#warnings: player relationships

[kflixnet]

Soon on KFLIXNET: check out our member Xin's series!

THE CAR’S OUTSIDE ⊹ · YJW 양정원 WORK OF FICTION

000 ┊ PRELUDE ! 𝗦𝖤𝖱𝖨𝖤𝖲 𝗖𝖮𝖬𝖨𝖭𝖦 𝐒𝖮𝖮𝖭. ‎ 🎀 ໒꒰ྀི˃ ⌑ ˂ഃ ꒱ྀི১ playlist‎

🗯️ ━━━ ever since middle school , you’ve had feelings for your sweet childhood best friend , jungwon . and it didn’t change all throughout your high school life . even when he had suddenly turned against you and created a new ‘ player ’ reputation ?! 📺

⦂ 3𝓀 𝘄𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝗰𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍. 🐇 신 𝗟𝖮𝖵𝖤𝖲 𝗬𝖮𝖴!

YOU FROWNED AND GLANCED AT HIM, who was still pouting rubbing the spot you hit on his arm.

You felt a bit of guilt, well—the amount of guilt a seven-year-old could feel.. and you held his hand again slowly and dragged the both of you upstairs to your room. He raised his eyebrows and followed you.

Jungwon whimpered again when you got to your room, with you closing the door immediately. You let go of his hand and he sat down on the bed, sniffling and pouting as little tears fell down his cheeks.

You huffed and came back with a shin chan bandaid, sitting next to him and taking his arm. He raised his eyebrows again in surprise, but let you continue.

Opening up the bandaid, you put it up on the little cut on his arm and patted it gently. You pouted in embarrassment and looked down.

“I’m sorry..” you muttered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.. well- I did, but.. you know..”

he looked away but then back at you, gulping as he nodded. “I’m sorry too..” he said quietly, making you look back up at him and wrap your arms around him.

he did the same.. hugging after every argument was a thing your moms made you do and something you both had grown accustomed too at this point..

you pulled away with an excited smile again.

“So you’ll play dress up with me again?”

He rolled his eyes at your words.. but started nodding slowly. You giggled and jumped, holding his hand and taking him to your closet again.

Jungwon chuckled slightly with a pinkish hue on his soft cheeks as he wiped his tears and followed you, bringing his hand up to you and fixing the slanted tiara on your messy head of hair..

“LOSER!”

“WIMP!”

“CRYBABY!”

were the cheers jungwon heard by the crowd of elementary school kids around him.. as Cho Yoonsik, a boy three times larger than him, pushed him back and laughed at him, making jungwon fall to the ground with tears in his eyes.

reason for ridicule?

because Jungwon made the terrible, elementary school mistake..

of snitching.

He was scared when Yoonsik threatened him for the answers before yesterday’s quiz. and he did give them the answers during the test..

but when you found out, you got angry and told jungwon to immediately tell the teachers.

Yoonsik got in trouble, Jungwon got in trouble.. but Yoonsik has to redo the test tomorrow.. the same time he has a taekwondo competition.

Jungwon was lankier, and was too shy to fight back even if they were both in the same taekwondo class. there was nothing he could do about it..

and Yoonsik found Jungwon’s pink lunch box that his grandmother left for him, a bit amusing.

“Are you a girl? With your pretty, pink lunchbox~?” Yoonsik teased in a funny, mocking voice, making the rest of his friends and the crowd laugh.

Jungwon’s eyes filled with tears as he felt the sharp pain of being ridiculed and embarrassed like this..

“I..” Jungwon stuttered, his pouted lip trembling.

Yoonsik raised his eyebrows and chuckled. “What? Can the sad girl not fight back?” He said as he leaned down and started kicking the boy’s side, making Jungwon whimper and let the tears fall down his cheeks.

“This’ll teach you to not snitch, wimp!” Yoonsik spoke angrily, but with a little smirk on his face. All the other students around laughed and cheered along, some of them were even throwing their snacks on the poor Jungwon. ( out of fear to get on Yoonsik’s good side )

Jungwon wanted to crawl into a little hole and die. His breathing was ragged and shaky from crying, he felt like a mess,

his clean clothes that his grandmother had just bought for him were all dirty.. he did feel like a wimp.

jungwon felt like there was no point in doing the right thing, listening to you and telling the teacher, when this was the outcome.

That was until — he suddenly felt the kicks and pushes stop, and instead heard gasps of the crowd and a yelp from Yoonsik.

Jungwon opened his eyes slowly, covering himself for any more impact just in case and looked to his side, where everyone had shifted.

There he saw Yoonsik.. and

you?!

Maybe his eyes were blurry.. because there was no way that was you.. on Yoonsik’s back..

one arm around his neck to balance, your other arm hitting his head. Your legs wrapped around Yoonsik’s hips while kicking his sides.

“YAH! Who the hell— OW!!” Yoonsik exclaimed, shutting his eyes as you pushed him down to the ground, hitting his hard chest and taking off his denim cap to slap him with it.

Jungwon rubbed his eyes in shock and they went wide..

yeah, that was definitely you..

“Why are you hurting my best friend?!” You yelled, your little-girl screams hurting Yoon’s ears as he winced and shut them quickly with his hands, but had to put them on his chest again to shield away from you.

“I have a pretty pink lunchbox too! You wanna call him a girl again??!” The other kids were gasping and talking amongst themselves, not knowing what to say to not anger Yoonsik later..

The boy winced and shook his head as he gritted his teeth in annoyance.

“N—no! ..eugh..

STOP IT, YOU LITTLE-!”

Yoonsik yelled again, trying to stop you, the other students laughing at Yoon’s urgency to swear and how a little girl, half his size was beating him up.

Jungwon gulped.. he wanted to go up and help. But he didn’t think you were the one who needed help..

Suddenly, he saw you coming up to him, your fingers pinching Yoonsik’s ear and dragging him.

“Apologise to him!” You exclaimed again.. pointing your finger to jungwon.

Yoonsik hissed at the pain and huffed, panting in struggle. You furrowed your eyebrows and pouted, slapping his back again.

“OW! S—sorry! I’m sorry..” Yoonsik spoke finally, his face red from anger and embarrassment.

Jungwon widened his eyes and gulped, nodding hesitantly as he looked at Yoonsik up and down. “Y—yeah..”

he could only mutter back as he quickly got up..

“That’s right! Now— hey!”

and grabbed you by the shoulders, pushing you away from Yoonsik and slightly pulling on his ear.

“Don’t do that again..” Jungwon muttered, pursing his lips and sitting you down on another park bench. “Do what? Save your life?” You said in annoyance with a pout.

Jungwon sighed and rolled his eyes, kneeling down on the rough floor and looking eye-level at you. “Did you get hurt..?” He asked gently, tucking your hair back to check for wounds or scars.

You shook your head with a frustrated look. “You’re the one who’s hurt!” you huffed, making him sigh and take his hand away with a gulp..

“I’m sorry.. just don’t be mad at me..” Jungwon said quietly, looking up at you and pouting.

You shook your head and rolled your eyes with a loud, dramatic huff.

“You are a loser.”

He only furrowed his eyebrows and pouted, not fully grasping that your words were sarcastic.

“C’mon, let’s go to the nurses office, she’ll give us both ice cream!” You exclaimed, taking his hand and running back into the school.

Jungwon’s pout vanished and his eyes sparkled the moment he heard ‘ice cream’.

But deep in his mind, he thought you were really cool out there, defending him like that.

Y/n-ah.. you’re really cool.

JUNGWON SOMETIMES HATED YOUR SWEET TOOTH. How after playing, you ran to the candy store, even after being so sweaty and tired. How you left him alone and sprinted in the direction of the ice cream truck when you heard the familiar tune. How you got so energetic right after, and he had to deal with your sugar-highs.

“You’re really gonna be a sugar-addict.” Jungwon said, rolling his eyes. You ignored his words and opened the wrapper of the lollipop, sitting down next to the sweets he got for you with the 1000 Won note he found in his pocket..

( he actually hadn’t just randomly found it, his mom gave it for him to get something to eat if he got hungry after.. he just lied so you wouldn’t get mad. you looked too happy earlier, you were practically drooling at the selection.. )

“Whatever..” you muttered, climbing up on some ledge near the park, leaning your elbows on your crossed legs and leaning down as you smiled at the other sweets you put down.

He leaned close, putting his arms down on the stony ledge next to your candies and scoffed with a chuckle, shaking his head slightly. nonetheless, a genuine smile crossed his lips when he looked up at how giddy you looked at the sweet and sour taste.

“Is that strawberry?” He muttered, his voice a bit muffled from how he rested his chin on his hand.

You nodded and hummed in response, busy looking elsewhere at the passersby. He took the opportunity and smirked.. before you knew it, his arm had reached up and snatched the lollipop from your mouth, making you gasp.

“Hey!” you whined, trying to take it back but he already plopped it in his mouth, giggling and climbing up on the ledge as well, sitting next to you. Hmph.. an annoyed pout reaching your lips as you huffed.

Jungwon chuckled and put his palms behind him as he leaned back on them, his cap all lopsided. he looked at you, slouching a bit with your elbows on your knees.. he reached his hand out again and took one of the ends of your braids in his fingers, twirling it.

He sighed softly and chuckled. “Don’t be mad at me~” Jungwon cooed, pinching your cheek as he leaned closer again, a hand to your chin as he made you look back.

You raised an eyebrow at his actions, not expecting him to be so touchy.. well—he was always comfortable around you, but why did it.. feel different to you now?

Jungwon smiled again and took the lollipop out of his mouth with a pop sound, placing it between your teeth again, the round shape now stretching your cheek.

Eyes widening again, you furrowed your eyebrows and froze at his action. “Ew.. cooties.” You joked, taking out the lollipop with a chuckle, trying to act casual.

But even jungwon noticed how your face and ears burned up and reddened. He just blamed it on the sunburn..

As silence filled the conversation, the same blush flushed on his face.. as a thought crossed his mind.

Jungwon pushed it back.. trying to not think of it.

“We’re practically kissing..” That was — until, of course, you just had to speak his thoughts out loud.

He hated a lot of things about you. Like how you could read his mind, how calm you seemed about that apparent.. indirect lollipop kissing.

“Yeah.. so?” Jungwon said, clearing his throat and trying to act indifferent. You scoffed and rolled your eyes, drawing little circles on the stony ledge.

Until you looked back at him and hummed softly. “Have you had your first kiss yet?” You asked quietly, making Jungwon’s eyes turn as wide as sauce pans and his face redden like a tomato.

When he looked up, he hated how his gaze went to your lips, coated in strawberry glossiness from the lollipop.

Jungwon cleared his throat and looked down again, trying to act casual. “Y-yeah, of course..” he spoke, pouting slightly and sighing. Almost all of his friends had had their first kisses already.. it was like 13 was the special age for kissing.

You scoffed and raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. It was obvious he was lying..

maybe he was a bit jealous since there were rumours about you already having your first kiss. He always felt the need to remind you that he was just as cool — no, cooler than you.

“Really? With who?” Jungwon froze again.. knowing you caught him. You and him both knew he was completely scared of girls.

He cleared his throat again and furrowed his eyebrows. “M-moka..!” Jungwon blurted out.

“Moka~? The Japanese exchange student who’s dating Haruto?” You cooed, teasing him in a mockingly gentle tone. He grumbled and looked down.

“Just because you already had your first kiss, doesn’t mean you can be cocky..” his words made your expression soften slightly as you paused and looked down. “I haven’t had my first kiss either..”

He raised his eyebrows and looked up at you, blushing slightly again at your words. watching as the wind blew the loose hairs of your braids softly. Awkward silence filled the air, he had no idea what to say to that..

but a bit of relief filled him when you said you hadn’t had your first kiss either.

“Do you ever just wonder if.. maybe people are making such a big deal about it?” You spoke up, turning your head back to him. “Like.. you’ve been waiting too long that you just wanna get it over with?”

Jungwon looked up at you again and gulped, his cheeks puffing up slightly as he nodded. “Mhm..” he could only say.. he felt like he was going to have a word-vomit moment if he spoke up about how he just wanted to have the experience already.

He knew he was still young, but his friends made it such a big deal.. Jungwon couldn’t help but yearn for a feeling like it too.

You tilted your head and hummed, looking at him, how his eyes teared away from you and shifted anywhere else.. his cheeks reddening crazily and his lips pursing again — that habit of his you recognised by now.

“Jungwon.. can I kiss you?”

WHAT?!

Jungwon’s breath stopped, his head shooting up as his mind ran, his heat racing. “Wh���what..?” He whispered, something in his neck stopping his volume from going higher.

You smirked and turned, shifting your position to sit in front of him and now face him. “We’ll be each other’s first kisses.. we’re already comfortable around each other, it won’t be weird.. it’s just to get our first times out of the way!”

The cogs in Jungwon’s brain were still turning, his heart beating like crazy. But he thought about your offer.. it sounded pretty reasonable, right? You were his best friend, his person.. he could talk to you about anything.

And if you seemed so cool about it, shouldn’t he be as well? He should be just as cool as you, anyway..

Jungwon looked up, his sparkly eyes nervous and his lips trembling.

“..do you wanna kiss me?” he asked.

idiot.

not even he knew what was going through his head when he asked that. he blushed in embarrassment..

The corners of your mouth raised a bit, a chuckle leaving your lips. “Do you?” You repeated his question, in a teasing and quiet voice. He gulped and looked down, getting off of leaning against his palms and slouching down, his face closer to yours..

He pursed his lips and looked down, “Maybe..” jungwon whispered, making you raise your eyebrows again. You blushed slightly but smiled, looking down again and gulping.

Your position shifted, now moving to sit facing him. He continued looking down, not wanting to look up and face you.. but before he knew it, he felt a pair of plush lips against his own..

He widened his eyes.. not expecting your lips to feel so soft.. he remembered what he saw in those romantic movies his sister made him watch.. what his friends said, ‘Dude, just relax and like.. hold her waist, girls totally love that!’

Jungwon fluttered his eyes shut, awkwardly not moving his lips, as his hand went to waist to pull you closer. You giggled and pulled away at his awkward, nervous movements.

“You really are a loser~” you said with a giggle, your cheeks still a bit flushed as your fingers went to his round cheeks to pinch and pull on them.

“Hey..” he muttered, whining quietly and closing his eyes shut as you pull on his cheeks.. his hands still on your back and waist gently, holding you closer.

He’d usually be annoyed when you’d tease him like this and pulled on his cheeks. your touch would hurt sometimes — making him swat your hand away.

But when he opened his eyes again.. something about right now..

he couldn’t find himself to care if it hurt, or it was annoying. he just found himself staring a bit too much..

and when you looked back into his eyes.. his own immediately widened, as his face turned completely red.

he looked down immediately and took his hands away from your sides. he gulped and squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment, crossing his arms.

“Tsk.. You’re unbelievable..” you scoffed and teased with a gentle smirk on your lips again, not realising he was caught off guard by something else, something other than your teasing and pulling.

He turned back straight and pouted, trying to calm himself down. His head was still lowered to hide his red face “Sh—shut up..”

why was his heart beating so fast and loud? could you hear it? the last time he felt like this was when he was reading the new volume of wonder woman and he had a massive crush on her.

was the reason for his racing heart.. the same..? he looked at you again, but.. you were gone?

Gasp!

before he could say anything else, your eyes had brightened, you had gotten off the ledge and ran to the ice cream truck — following the lively tune. “ICE CREAM!”

you exclaimed, running to your heaven. Jungwon’s romance-high was put to halt as he rolled his eyes and took all the sweets in a bag. he picked up your cap that had fallen while you were running and quickly ran up to you.

“I already bought you a thousand sweets!”

but he knew his words were deaf on your sugar-addicted ears.

nonetheless, jungwon still felt his heart thump when you took the ice cream excitedly. he couldn’t even find it in him to reach his hand forward and wipe the ice cream off your cheek or pat your head — like he always did, but without that weird stomach—ache feeling..

“Thank you for paying again!” you exclaimed, making him roll his eyes again with a slight chuckle. “Of course~” he sarcastically cooed. you smiled anyway and crossed your arm around his and started skipping back home.

“You’re my best friend—I’ll love you forever! ..m-more than ice cream!” you said in a sing-song tone, making him giggle again as he walked with you.

jungwon pushed back the stomach-ache feeling again when he was with you.

he didn’t know what it was. he liked the feeling, but he didn’t like having it.

then again — he didn’t mind spending his childhood years with it, if it meant having you to protect him, to protect and to eat ice cream with, by his side.

❪ BUNNY TALK ❫ are my jungwon lovers here??? the predebut release of the cars outside is here !! hope you guys enjoy it a lot ^^ have a good day ><

❪ OO1 TAGLIST ❫ OPEN! fill in this google form, send an ask or comment on this post to be added! 🐇🪽

❪ PERM TAGLIST ❫ @w3bqrl @boowoowho @ahnneyong @kynrki @ixomiyu @yunki4evr @flwoie @bubblytaetae @ja4hyvn @dimplewonie @xiaoderrrr @trsrina @adajoemaya @stepout-09-15 zzegarki @ineedaherosavemeenow @lcv3lies @violetinferno @mijuuv @enhapocketz @hoonics @bubblytaetae @isoobie @dolldhn @jiaant11 @yeomha @mosssi @j-wyoung @artstaeh @spilled-coffee-cup @cowsmicwu @nishislcve @laylasbunbunny @greentulip @enhacolor @miumura @firstclassjaylee @wensurr

[jessamine-rose]

So I finally found the time to read Chapter 5 + the Hades event of What in Hell is Bad? and AAHHH LEVIATHAN?!! God, his character is so interesting and I can’t wait to see more of him.

Idk I just find his personality and cold attitude towards MC quite refreshing. Not to mention that he has such a lovely voice and beautiful appearance…….aaahhh he’s so intriguing <3

AND LEVIATHAN’S H SCENE?? Let’s just say that my inner sadist was very happy with how it turned out. Honestly, we need more characters who are masochist + power bottom ψ(｀∇´)ψ

[tropicalcontinental]

Trying to draw the curse but rain worldified (still figuring out a solid design)

[lazysublimeengineer]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Blue Lock (Manga), Blue Lock (Anime), 小市民シリーズ | Shoshimin: How to Become Ordinary (Anime) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Kobato Jougorou/Isagi Yoichi Characters: Kobato Jougorou, Isagi Yoichi Additional Tags: Minor Spoilers, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, an outstanding detective who wants to become ordinary versus an ordinary soccer player who wants to become the number one striker, Crossover, Explicit Sexual Content, Ambiguous Relationships, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Character Study, Relationship Study, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Cross-Posted on Quotev Summary:

You want a real taste, at least I'm not a fake.

- It’s like looking into an inverted mirror of himself every time he gazed into his chartreuse eyes.

[hoshiros]

—✯ TRY IT, BITE IT, LICK IT, SPIT IT

cw. 18+ mdni. all chars 20+, pro-player!rin, afab!reader, oral (f!receiving), praise, petnames, established relationship, inspired by that one leaked panel of rin because what the hell

When ITOSHI RIN wins a game, your face is always the first one he wants to see.

Oftentimes, he'll search for you in the crowd with your embarrassingly noisy neon poster boards cheering him on. Other times, you'll already be waiting for him at the gates with your arms opened wide for him to run into.

For the last four weeks, though, he’s had to suffer the agony of your absence.

Rin called you incessantly while in France, reminding you of how many days separated him from being in your arms. "Wait for me. I'll be home soon," he said. "And be good," he'd add on, almost cheekily.

His promises were always sincere and lethally calculated. He wanted you to need him so badly that you'd fall apart on his tongue in minutes. Then he'd do it again, and again, and again, until he was satisfied.

When he finally came home, you barely had time to breathe before his lips were crashing into yours. You wanted to ask him if his flight was alright, if he had dinner yet, but then he licked himself into your mouth and the entire thought vanished.

And now you're being devoured by a monster.

Rin's been between your legs for so long that you're dizzy, head airy and light as he fucks into you with his tongue.

"Stay still," he warns sharply, words muffled as he stuffs his face closer into your sopping cunt. His warning is followed with his hands circling around your thighs, palms flat against the skin and leaving seas of heat along it.

You whine pathetically when he presses your hips down into the mattress, forcing you to be still for him.

"Can't—" you choke, spine curling from the bed so far that your head tilts backward. "Slow down, Rin!"

"Slow down?" He murmurs roughly. Rin furrows his brows, like he genuinely can't comprehend your request. "Actin' like it's your first time," he mocks, finishing his sentence by wrapping his lips around your clit.

You squeal, hand shooting down to shove his head back. He almost laughs when your weak attempt only pushes the bangs out of his eyes, giving him an even better view of you.

Rin pulls back enough to click his tongue, amused by your squirming but equally frustrated at your protests. He draws away from you. You feel cold as he does, the space he occupied suddenly devoid of his warmth.

"M'sorry princess," he coos, trying to coax you into relaxing. Peppering light kisses up your thigh until he gets to the spot resting on his shoulder, Rin can feel every shiver as you recover. "Too rough?"

You take a moment to catch your breath, waves of overstimulation crashing in your stomach. Finally, your gaze slowly drifts down to him, roaming over his face.

Your pussy clenches around nothing at the sight.

Sweat gleams across his forehead, stray strands of hair stuck to the skin as he also finds his breath. The entire bottom half of his face is so wet. You did that. You did.

"Hmm?" Rin hums, trying to get an answer. He looks so fucking cocky. So hungry. His tongue runs across his lips as if he can't stand not tasting you for even a second longer.

You shake your head, fingers still in his hair tugging lightly until he groans. "I can take it," you sniffle, guiding him back down closer to your heat.

"I know, baby. You're so good."

Rin dives back in as if he's starving for you, lathering your cunt in rough, long licks until you're shuddering. His hands travel down to the base of your thighs once again, pulling your body closer so that he can finish his meal.

You cry out softly, aching hole desperately trying to squeeze his tongue. He was the one who was so good to you. You dare to gaze at him again, just to admire his beautiful face.

Your breath hitches.

Rin has that same look on his face as he does on a football field—like a winner chasing a goal he knows he'll always get.

[enhani-ki]

fuckboy!ni-ki x reader

warnings : smut, nsfw, cursing, mentions of killing, etc.

read part two

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki likes to lie and waste time.

a game player, smooth talker, and a liar when it suited him.

ni-ki knew exactly what to say to get what he wanted. he'd tell a girl she was the only one, that she was special, that he couldn't stop thinking about her, only to turn around and send the same message to someone else.

when he got what he wanted? he gets bored.

it was always the same: a few weeks, maybe a month if they were lucky, then he'd just start pulling away. no more sweet words, no more playful texts, it's dry responses and distance until they finally took the hint.

girls will cry, get angry, some even tried to plot revenge... but ni-ki? he never felt guilty.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki doesn't believe in love.

he won't date and won't do relationships. he wasn't interested doing those late-night calls or good-morning texts, and the thought of commitment made him want to laugh.

he just likes a little flirting, a little fun, love songs, fucking then moving on before things got too serious.

they liked the chase, thinking they could be the one to change him, and the idea of being the exception.

but there are no exceptions. he'd rather catch a body than catch feelings for somebody he barely knows.

ni-ki was always clear about what he wanted, even if they refused to believe him.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki was impatient.

he's leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and tight jaw. his fuck buddy is late and he hates waiting. it's not his style to sit around for anyone.

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. then, he spotted a familiar silhouette approaching.

finally.

and without hesitation, he reached out, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you into the shadows.

"you took your sweet time." he muttered, his lips already brushing against your ear. "i should make you pay for making me wait, don't you think?" then ni-ki started talking dirty.

your body stiffened in his grasp.

ni-ki smirked. he loves it when someone gets shy because of him but something was off.

there's no giggle or eager hands slipping on his body... only silence.

ni-ki pulled back, his eyes locked on your wide, terrified eyes.

you're a face he had never seen before.

"who the fuck are you?!" he blurted out.

"i- i'm sorry!" you stammered, breathing heavily in shock.

ni-ki's mouth opened to say something but before he could, you ran away, you ran so fast that your belongings spilled onto the floor in your rush to escape.

ni-ki cursed under his breath, running a hand down his face.

fuck.

not only he's not gonna have sex but he also accidentally just harassed a complete stranger.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki got mad, completely ghosting and blocked his fuck buddy's number.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki wasn't the type to dwell on things. if he ever made a mistake, he moved on. he's that simple.

but what happened with you? that bothered him.

maybe it was the way your eyes looked at him, it was pure fear, like he was some kind of monster... or maybe it was because he had never been the kind of guy to force himself onto someone.

he's cocky, sure. shameless, absolutely. but he never needed to resort to shit like that and now, he just left a random girl traumatized.

great.

ni-ki took your abandoned things from his bag, staring at them in irritation. he could've just tossed this somewhere and let you deal with it but it's the least he could do, right?

he looked for you everywhere and when he finally spotted you walking down the hall, he didn't hesitate to approach.

"hey."

your body stiffened instantly when you saw him, you gulped and turned, ready to leave.

ni-ki rolled his eyes and reached out, catching your wrist before you could escape. "relax," he sighed. "i'm just here to give you these…"

you hesitated but quickly grabbed your things and muttered, "thanks."

he let go but he's also expecting you to run again and he's not letting you off easily.

his fingers wrapped around your wrist again, "i'm not done..." he said. "why are you in such a hurry?"

"i gotta go…"

"oh, really?" ni-ki scoffed but released his grip. "fine. look, i'm sorry about earlier. i thought you were someone else."

"your girlfriend?"

ni-ki chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "no, i don't do girlfriends." he teased but it wasn't meant to joke or seduce. "you forgive me?"

you smiled slightly before nodding but then you tilted your head, curious. "...but why would you say something like that to someone who isn't your girlfriend?"

he smirked and leaned in again, so close you could smell his cologne.

"mind your own business, won't you?" he said and walked away.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki found you at his playground.

parties were all the same. loud music, flashing lights, people pressed up against each other like they forgot what personal space was.

ni-ki was used to it, it's his playground.

he's sitting with his friends. there's a smirk on his face while some girl clung to his arm, twirling her hair and giggling at everything he said even though he wasn't even trying to be funny.

"so, ni-ki..." she purred, leaning in close, "when are we getting out of here?"

ni-ki exhaled, he's not in the mood yet and he's ready to give a half-assed answer until his eyes flickered to the entrance where you walked in.

"huh."

you walked in, looking... insanely good wearing a dress that hugged all the right places that it made ni-ki's fuck boy brain short-circuit for a second.

the girl beside him was still talking but he wasn't listening anymore, his interest became completely derailed.

"wait here..." ni-ki muttered, removing the girl's arms off of him without another word.

she sputtered in protest but ni-ki was already gone, slipping through the crowd, with eyes locked on you.

he "accidentally" bumped into you, almost knocking you off balance then his hands instinctively gripped your waist to steady you.

"wow… you're-"

you covered yourself quickly, you crossed your arms over your chest and sent him a glare before he could even think about finishing that sentence

"what do you want?" you asked, unimpressed.

he blinked, momentarily thrown off.

"nothing." he recovered quickly, slipping his hands into his pockets.

you sighed. "have you seen my friend, f/n?"

ni-ki shook his head. "i have no idea who that is," he replied, then quickly added, "i'll help you look."

his hand landed on your shoulder but you instantly shrugged it. ni-ki scoffed at your unfriendly action, "seriously?" he asked, rolling his eyes but followed anyway, trailing beside you like he's trying to find his friend too.

his eyes kept drifting back to you. the way your hips swayed slightly as you walked, the way your hair swung when you turned your head... it was so distracting and ni-ki found himself grinning.

he was enjoying himself, honestly and he wasn't even gonna try to flirt anymore, he was just already thrilled to be by your side.

you stopped in a less crowded part of the house, scanning the room then you were pulling at your dress subtly, adjusting the hem like you're clearly uncomfortable.

ni-ki clicked his tongue "w- why are you wearing that if you're uncomfortable?"

you turned to him sharply, eyes narrowing. "why do you care?!"

"why are you so mad at me?"

"'cause i don't know what you're trying to do."

"i'm not trying do do anything to you!"

you glared at him again, adjusting your dress.

"tch." ni-ki removed his jacket and threw it at your face.

"what the hell-"

ni-ki rolled his eyes, already regretting being nice. "wear that, idiot."

you hesitated.

he sighed and turned away, "do whatever you want."

you slipped the jacket over your shoulders then ni-ki peeked at you from the corner of his eyes where he saw you practically drowning in his jacket. you looked so tiny in it, he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling.

you finally spotted your friend near the drinks table, "f/n!" you called out, relieved.

your friend turned with a smile then her eyes immediately widened when she saw who was standing beside you.

"oh. my. God." she gasped, barely even acknowledging you because she's looking at ni-ki.

ni-ki smirked at her reaction, clearly used to it. "hi. what's up?"

you friend actually looked starstruck for a second before shaking herself out of it.

"why are you with him?" she whisper-yelled at you, leaning in like you just brought home a stray cat but the dangerous kind.

"he just helped me find you." you replied and without another word, you grabbed her arm and dragged her towards the exit.

"bye, ni-ki!" your friend waved at him.

ni-ki chuckled, grinning while watching the two of you rush off.

as soon as you and your friend stepped outside, she immediately started her interrogation with gleaming eyes.

"okay," she breathed, grabbing your shoulders. "do you know how many girls would kill to be in your position?!"

you groaned. "it's not what you think!"

she gasped, dramatically covering her mouth. "wait… did you do it?"

you blinked. "what do you mean by it?"

she wiggled her eyebrows and giggled, playfully slapping your arm. "you know what I mean~"

you eyes widened in disgust. "i would never do it with anyone!"

she laughed as you pushed her lightly, still giggling like a schoolgirl.

"okay, okay, i believe you..." she teased. "but still, damn. ni-ki even gave you his jacket?"

she said, snatching the sleeve of the jacket and sniffed it.

you grabbed it back.

she gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. "it smells expensive… sexy, actually."

you gave her a disgusted look again and tightened the jacket around you, trying to ignore the fact that, yeah, it did smell good.

"don't get so weird about this." you warned.

she only laughed, linking her arm through yours. "now tell me more about you and ni-ki."

"there is no me and ni-ki!"

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki suddenly wants to prove that he wasn't actually the asshole you thought he was but ended messing it up.

he told himself it was over. he gave back your stuff, apologized (which, honestly, he never did for anyone), even gave you his jacket, and that should've been the end of it.

he tried not to be pushy 'cause he knew better now, but he still found ways to be around you. if he saw you at school, he'd just give a casual nod. if you were in the cafeteria, he'd sit nearby, pretending it was a coincidence. and if you caught him looking, you'd glare and he would quickly look away.

he was used to people chasing him, used to girls who always wants something from him, not someone who wanted nothing to do with him. and when you made it clear, he said "you really think the worst of me, huh?"

you crossed your arms. "can you blame me?"

ni-ki huffed a laugh. "i don't even do shit to you."

but then, you might just be playing hard to get, right?

he smirked, grabbing your phone and held it high.

"ni-ki, i swear- give it back!"

you jumped, reaching for it, but he was way taller. he tilted his head, watching you struggle, and then...

fuck it.

because he's ni-ki, he's reckless, stupid and didn't think things through... he kissed you.

it was quick, barely even a brush of lips.

he pulled back, expecting a reaction, but not the one he got.

your face twisted in disbelief before you hit him.

you smacked his chest repeatedly, pushing him, "what is wrong with you?! that was my first kiss, stupid!"

ni-ki's eyes widened. "wait- what? seriously?"

you fought back your tears, shoving him one last time before storming off. "don't talk to me ever again!"

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki is doing something completely out of character.

he didn't plan to kiss you. it just happened like some dumb, impulsive thought he acted on before his brain could catch up.

he wanted to reach out but what the hell was he even supposed to say?

"hey, my bad for stealing your first kiss lol?"

"i didn't think it'd be that big of a deal."

"wait, you really never kissed anyone before?"

shit, no. that was all dumb as hell.

for the next few days, ni-ki is not being himself.

he forgot his usual girls, he hadn't even been with anyone ever since he met you.

"dude, what's up with you?" one of his friends asked.

ni-ki just shrugged, flipping his phone in his hands. "nothing."

you were avoiding him like he was some virus. you look the other way when he walked past or really refusing to even glance in his direction.

so, fine. he swallowed his pride and showed up at your house.

you opened the door, immediately frowning when you saw him. "what do you want?"

ni-ki exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.

"i'm sorry, alright?" he said quickly. "i was being an idiot, i didn't think, and..."

"you're apologizing?"

ni-ki groaned, shoving his hands in his pockets. "yeah..."

you crossed your arms, unimpressed. "took you long enough."

he sighed, stepping closer. "i didn't know it was your first kiss..."

you rolled your eyes, "whatever."

then ni-ki hugged you.

you gasped, trying to make him let go. "what- what are you doing?!"

ni-ki just chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder. "saying sorry?"

"by hugging me?!"

"would you rather i kiss you again?"

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

he laughed again, pulling back slightly to look at your flustered expression.

you scowled. "you're such a pervert."

his smirk returned, teasing. "you liked being hugged though."

you smacked his chest hard. "GO HOME, NI-KI."

he grinned, backing away "but we're good now, right?"

you didn't answer, just slammed the door in his face.

ni-ki chuckled to himself, breathing in relief as he walked away.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki is trying his best to please you... and hold himself back from being a fuck boy.

ni-ki has a serious problem. these days, he found himself doing things that were completely out of character.

like waiting outside your classroom when he swore he was just going to pass by, remembering your usual order at the café near school and handing it to you in front of everyone like it was no big deal, then making sure you got home safe after study sessions.

he wasn't even trying to get anything out of it because for once in his life, he actually wanted to do things the right way. he wanted to get a girlfr- girl friend. a friend that's a girl. that's all.

totally normal. nothing weird.

but it's so frustrating because you weren't even making it easy for him.

you still roll your eyes at him when he tried to be nice. you still gave him unimpressed looks when he offered to carry your things. and the other day, when he casually said you looked cute, you hit him with a deadpan, "what do you want?"

like, damn. he was actually trying here.

then… you'll also do things that completely messed him up.

your cheeks puff out whenever you concentrate, making him desperately want to bite them.

or how we would notice your tits slightly jiggle and move whenever you're running or simply writing. suddenly, he would have to leave the room for fresh air.

when you got mad at him, all fiery and stubborn, he had the worst urge to just shut you up, not in a way that was appropriate for a friend.

ni-ki groaned, running a hand down his face.

his first thought?

"God, i wanna touch."

his second thought?

"i need help."

you left something at school. suddenly, he showed up at your door, handing your things back along with a bottle of your favorite drink.

you looked at him confused, ni-ki rolled his eyes, pushing the bag into your hands.

"you… bought this for me?"

"don't be weird!" he grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "just take it."

you stared at him for a long moment before stepping aside. "you wanna come in?"

ni-ki shook his head, he knew himself. he knew that the second he got too comfortable, his usual instincts would kick in... he would start flirting, the way he always found a way to get what he wanted.

instead of smirking and stepping inside like he usually would, he just shoved his hands in his pockets, exhaling.

"nah," he said. "i'll just see you tomorrow, okay?"

a small smile formed at your lips. "thanks, ni-ki."

he turned away quickly, waving a hand over his shoulder while his heart raced so fast. "welcome."

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki can't figure out if you're just a damsel in distress or actually bossing him around

ni-ki likes to think he's a pretty capable guy. he's used to girls needing him for things... carrying their bags, opening their drinks, giving them rides home. he didn't mind. it boosted his ego.

but every time you asked for his help, he couldn't tell if you were actually helpless or if you're just treating him like some personal assistant.

you handed him your backpack without a word while texting on your phone.

ni-ki blinked. "uh… am i supposed to carry this?"

"yeah." you replied without even looking at him.

"…please?"

you gave him a look. "i could say please, but you're already holding it."

then later you stared at a vending machine like it had personally offended you.

"what, it didn't give you your snack?"

"no..." you huffed, crossing your arms. "it won't take my bill."

ni-ki sighed, pulling out his own money and sliding in a new bill. the machine beeped, and he pressed your selection.

then the snack dropped, you grabbed it, turned on your heel, and walked away.

the way you pouted when you struggled with something, how your brows furrowed in concentration, the tiny pleased smile you gave when things worked out in your favor... it pleased him too.

so when you showed up next to him one day, shaking your phone with an exaggerated sigh, ni-ki already knew what was coming.

"my phone is dead," you said.

he smiled "finally."

you glared, "give me your charger."

ni-ki scoffed in disbelief. "you don't even pretend to be polite anymore!"

you pouted. "please?"

his eye twitched. you're so annoying. cute but mostly annoying.

ni-ki pulled out his charger and handed it to you. "i swear, don't lose it."

"i never lose things." you said, already plugging it in.

"liar." he shook his head. "you lost your AirPods case last week."

you laughed and waved him off. "that was one time."

ni-ki smiled, he felt that stupid warmth creep up his neck again when he heard your laugh.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki asked you to work out with him.

you regret this.

you had never worked out before but when ni-ki said, "come on, i'll go easy on you." you refused to back down.

big mistake.

now, here you are, struggling to breathe properly while ni-ki, just finished another set of weights, stood there looking like some Greek god.

sweat clung to his skin, his black shirt sticking slightly to his toned torso. his hair was pushed back from his forehead and sharp jawline got even more defined.

you gulped.

then he caught you staring. his lips curled into a grin. "like what you see?"

you quickly looked away. "shut up."

he only laughed.

later, back in your room, you are dying.

your muscles ached in places you didn't even know existed. you lay on your bed, groaning while ni-ki sat next to you, arms crossed.

"you're overreacting." he said.

"you tricked me," you accused. "you said you'd go easy."

"i did!" he defended, snickering.

you groaned again, moving slightly only to wince at the soreness in your legs.

ni-ki smiled. "want a massage?"

you looked at him. "you give massages?"

he smirked. "i'm really good with my hands."

you squinted and he laughed. ni-ki began to straddle your back, hands pressing into your tense shoulders.

the moment he started kneading your muscles, your body melted.

"oh… that's so good…" you whispered, voice airy.

ni-ki chuckled. "i am good, huh?"

"ah, ye- yeah, it feels so good." you mumbled, already slipping into a relaxed haze.

ni-ki's hands stilled for a second.

your voice sounded… weirdly suggestive.

he bit back a laugh. he knew you were just tired, but hearing you say that in such a soft, breathy tone? hmm.

he kept massaging, feeling the tension slowly leave your body. it wasn't long before your breathing evened out.

"…did you just fall asleep?" he muttered.

silence.

ni-ki shook his head, you looked so peaceful, face slightly turned to the side, lips were slightly parted.

his eyes trailed to your exposed neck, heart pounding while reaching out to gently brush your hair aside.

and before he could stop himself, he leaned in, pressing soft, featherlight kisses along the curve of your nape up to your neck.

your body reacted on instinct, tilting slightly, like giving him more access.

a soft, sleepy moan escaped your lips.

ni-ki's eyes widened, heart slamming against his ribs.

"…a- are you awake?" he asked.

silence.

panic surged through him. he quickly grabbed the blanket and draped it over you, standing up so fast he nearly tripped.

ni-ki ran home and the second his front door swung open, he stumbled inside, slamming it shut behind him. his fingers went straight to the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging at it while his mind still clouded with you.

the soft moan you let out, the way your body naturally tilted into his touch, the warmth of your skin beneath his lips.

his jaw clenched as he glanced down at his cock, his sweatpants doing a poor job at hiding the evidence of just how badly he was losing control.

ni-ki groaned, balling his fists, fighting the instinct to just take care of it.

he grabbed his phone, scrolling through his contacts.

the phone barely rang before a familiar, flirty voice answered.

"hey, ni-"

"how fast can you get here?"

the girl on the other end giggled. "mhm, about 30, 40 minutes-"

click. that's too late.

ni-ki exhaled sharply, tossing his phone onto his bed. his hand ran through his hair, feeling the frustration throughout his body. he pulled his sweatpants back up, shaking off the temptation.

and even though he had just worked out, he grabbed another set of weights and dropped to the floor, blasting music at full volume.

push-ups. sit-ups. anything to burn the tension off.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki looked like shit the next day.

you burst out laughing the moment you saw him.

he looked rough. dark circles under his eyes, hair a mess, slouched in his chair like he barely made it out of bed.

"what happened to you?" you grinned, poking his arm.

ni-ki groaned, brushing you off. "it's your fault."

"wha- my fault? what did i do?"

he turned his head away, eyes shutting like he couldn't even look at you right now. "just… drop it."

you leaned in, pushing him playfully. "come on, tell meee." you pouted. "fine, then at least let me make it up to you! what can I do?"

ni-ki scoffed, tilting his head back against the chair. "there's nothing you can do."

when class ended and you followed him towards the gym storage room.

"ni-ki!" you called, slipping inside right behind him.

he turned around just as the door slammed shut. the click of the lock echoed through the small space.

"…are you kidding me?" ni-ki muttered.

you tried the handle. locked.

ni-ki groaned, he sat and started rubbing his face. "i really don't have the energy for this right now."

you stepped in front of him, with hands on your hips. "you seriously won't tell me what's wrong?"

and instead of answering, ni-ki suddenly reached out, gripping your waist and pulling you close.

you froze as he rested his head against your stomach, arms wrapped around you.

"just shut up, will you?" he murmured, voice muffled against your shirt.

you brought your hand to his hair, your fingers brushing the strands. you began to comb through them slowly, your touch gentle and rhythmic.

his body relaxed against you, the tension in his grip softening. ni-ki hummed.

you began to smile while playing with his hair, twirling a few strands between your fingers before smoothing them out.

it's sweet... but your legs were starting to ache.

"okay... maybe just a little longer." you thought, shifting your weight slightly to ease the pressure on your feet.

ni-ki didn't move. if anything, his grip on your hips tightened, like a sleepy child clutching a favorite pillow.

your legs began to tremble faintly, you hoped ni-ki would notice.

but nothing, he was like a cat curled up in the perfect sunbeam.

you sighed quietly, glancing down at him. your hands still in his hair as you debated your options. "maybe if i lean a little, he'll..."

ni-ki let out a low hum, his grip loosening just slightly as he shifted his head. for a split second, you thought your prayer had been answered, until he wrapped his arms fully around your waist, pulling you down to his lap.

"ni-ki!" you hissed, barely catching yourself with your hands as you stumble forward.

his eyes cracked open, a sleepy smirk tugging at his lips. "why are you so tense?"

"because you're treating me like a body pillow!"

"you're comfy."

you groaned, glaring at the top of his head. ni-ki added "you should've leave me alone." the smirk of his returned as his arms tightened around you once more.

"you know..." he began, "let's just skip class, you wanna sleep with me?"

your eyes widened, your brain short-circuiting at his words. "wha-what do you mean sleep with you?" you stuttered, leaning back instinctively.

ni-ki flicked your forehead lightly, his smirk growing. "not like that, you idiot." he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "i meant just sleeping. me, you, sleeping here. eyes closed. that's it."

you laughed awkwardly. "right..."

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki realized that he doesn't want to be your friend.

ni-ki got annoyed the second you started talking about jungwon. he had just introduced him but he noticed the way your eyes stared at his friend.

ni-ki subtly stepped in front of your view, blocking jungwon from your sight.

"hey! move!" you hissed, trying to peer around him.

and instead of budging, ni-ki covered your eyes with his hands.

"what the?!" you immediately grabbed at his wrists, struggling.

he kept his hands firmly in place, waiting until his jungwon hyung was completely out of sight.

and when he finally let go, you blinked, looking around. "where is he?"

ni-ki smirked. "i killed him."

you smacked his arm.

later, he was sitting on his bed while you lounged across from him, "he was really nice," you said, kicking your feet. "and kinda cute too, like a cat don't you think?"

"who do you like better, me or him?"

you blinked, confused. "what kind of question is that?"

"just answer."

"i like you," you said casually. "as my friend."

ni-ki scoffed. maybe he did want to be your friend before but that isn't the case anymore.

"i'm not your friend."

"yes, you are."

ni-ki grabbed your face with both hands, tilting your head up before slamming his lips onto yours, aggressively like he was trying to erase every thought you had of jungwon. "friends don't do this."

rough and desperate, his fingers pressed into your cheeks as he devoured your mouth, refusing to let you breathe while angling your head exactly how he wanted..

you gripped his shoulders, a muffled gasp escaping your lips as he deepened the kiss.

but ni-ki wasn't just kissing you, he was already claiming you.

he groaned against your lips, hands sliding to the back of your neck. holding you in place like he didn't want you slipping away and the second your lips parted slightly, he will deepen the kiss even more, biting at your bottom lip like he wanted to ruin you.

and when ni-ki finally pulled away, his lips were already swollen.

"you were saying?" ni-ki muttered, still holding your face.

you stared at him, breathless, lips tingling.

"…huh?"

he smirked, wiping his thumb over your lower lip before leaning in again.

"that's what i thought."

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki can't keep his hands off you.

you used to slap his hands away.

his arm over your shoulder? gone.

sneaking his hands around your waist? not happening.

grabbing your wrist to pull you closer? absolutely not.

but after the kiss, you started letting him and ni-ki noticed... of course, he did.

the first time you didn't push him away when he rested an arm around your shoulders, he almost did a double take.

you also didn't immediately escape when he pulled you onto his lap and when he linked his fingers with yours? he was expecting you to smack his hands, but you didn't.

"you're getting too comfortable," you muttered, feeling the warmth of his palm against yours.

ni-ki only smirked, giving your hand a squeeze.

"you're spoiling me, you know." he murmured against your ear, his breath sending a shiver down your spine. "if you keep this up, i'll start thinking you actually like me."

you scoffed, pushing his face half-heartedly.

ni-ki chuckled, leaning in like he was about to kiss you again. you froze, expecting the warmth of his lips- but he only brushed his nose against yours.

he pulled back, satisfied at the way you reacted. "see?"

your cheeks burned, frustration bubbling in your chest. you freed yourself from his grip and walked away, annoyed.

ni-ki watched you go with amusement. "where are you going?"

"far away from you."

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki ready to be yours.

"go put on a nice dress." ni-ki said over the phone.

you raised a brow. "why?"

he grinned. "because we're going to a restaurant."

you narrowed your eyes. "we are?"

"yeah." replied. "i made a reservation."

you got ready anyway. and when you stepped out in your dress, ni-ki scanned you up and down, "pretty." he murmured, before grabbing your hand and leading you outside.

before you both enter the restaurant, he suddenly intertwined his fingers with yours, "this is a date, okay?" he said, watching your reaction.

you blinked, caught off guard. "a what?"

ni-ki just grinned and dragged you inside.

your eyes widened as you looked around the table. all your favorite foods were there, plated beautifully under the dim, warm lights.

you turned to him, speechless.

ni-ki simply pulled out a chair for you, nodding at the seat.

the dinner was nice. way more than nice. he talked, he listened, and laughed with you.

"is this real? are you actually asking me out?"

"yes," ni-ki said, nodding. "i'm serious."

your chest tightened. you wanted to believe him but a part of you was scared.

what if he change his mind? what if you let yourself fall, only for him to break your heart once you bit into it?

ni-ki noticed your hesitation. he hated that you had to doubt him but he can't also blame why, though he wasn't just playing around.

he reached for your hand, bringing it to his lips. "just a bit more of your trust, okay?" he whispered against your skin.

you stared at him for a moment before finally leaning in to hug him.

he held you close, his lips curving against your shoulder. "you were mine the first time i kissed you."

you pulled back and laughed, playfully slapping his arm as you remembered how he stole your first kiss.

at his house, ni-ki captured your lips in a slow, passionate kiss. his mouth moved against yours, savoring every moment. he then pressed soft kisses along your jaw and down the column of your neck.

he found that sensitive spot that made you moan, he latched on and sucked harder, relishing the sound of your pleasure.

ni-ki started guiding you towards his bedroom, never breaking the kiss. once inside, he gently laid you down the bed, his body still pressed against yours.

he looked up at you with intense desire in his eyes, he asked breathlessly, "can i?" his eyes flicked down to your heaving chest.

you nodded, granting him permission. ni-ki didn't hesitate, slipping his hands under your shirt to fondle and tease your sensitive nipples through the thin fabric of your bra.

you arched into his touch, panting softly. he swallowed down your needy moans as he devoured your lips again, his tongue delving deep to clash against yours.

"friends won't do this, right?" ni-ki gasped between heated kisses. he tugged your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside. his mouth moved, licking and sucking at your bare breasts.

your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him against you as he lavished all attention on your tits.

then ni-ki trailed kisses down to your stomach. hooking his fingers in your panties, he groaned at feeling soaked folds. "fuck, you're so wet for me already," he murmured, tracing his finger along your slit.

he buried his face between your thighs and began eating you out with your panties on. the fabric added delicious friction when his mouth sucked the sensitive bud, lapping at your clit.

you cried out, ni-ki removed your panties. the first swipe of his tongue directly on your pussy made you both moan. you taste even better than he imagined.

ni-ki growled. diving in for more like a starving man. his talented mouth had you writhing and gasping within moments.

he couldn't help but picture how tightly your virgin pussy would squeeze his cock when he finally got to slide inside you. he just know he wouldn't last long once he felt your walls gripping him.

his tongue darted in and out of your slick folds, making you to tug on his hair harshly.

ni-ki's fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs as he licked and sucked your clit with sloppy, desperate motions. sounds of your moans and gasps only served to fuel his own growing arousal with every passing second.

but he promised himself he could wait, for now, he was content to focus solely on pleasuring you, determined to make you feel as good as possible.

he sealed his lips around your clit and suckled hard, pressing two fingers inside as listened to the squelching sounds of your tight cunt.

you cried out, your back arching off the bed as he pumped them in and out. "ni-ki, i...i think I'm going to...ahhh!" your words dissolved into a wordless moan as he curled his fingers just right.

soon, your thighs clamped around his head as you came, your pussy clenching down on his fingers in rhythm.

ni-ki crawled up your trembling body to capture your lips in a deep kiss. "you taste so good," he murmured against your mouth. "i can't wait to be inside you." he said as he positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing the thick head of his cock at your wet folds "i'll be gentle, baby."

"tell me if it hurts too much." he added, slowly pushing forward when he felt your walls relaxed slightly.

you let out whimpers and sharp gasps, the sting of pain clouded your eyes with tears. ni-ki paused, giving you a moment to adjust to the new feeling of being filled inside completely.

the sensation of your pussy squeezing him was unlike anything else. he wanted to fuck the shit out of you, claim you so thoroughly that you'd never forget your first time but he loves you so he has to be patient and gentle with your innocent body.

your whimpers and moans filled the room, ni-ki's heart swelled seeing you like this, breathless, desperate... he can't believe that your body is his for the taking.

your cunt began to welcome him inch by inch.

"fuck, you feel amazing." he groaned, fighting the urge to hammer into you wildly.

starting with shallow thrusts, he gradually increased his pace, still mindful of your pain. and as ni-ki doing it deeper, he leaned down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. "you're taking my cock so well..." he praised. "so fucking sexy."

your eyes fluttered shut and you tilted your head back in bliss, lost to the new pleasure and pressure building inside you. ni-ki felt your walls fluttering around him erratically. "ni-ki, i think- i'm- again..."

he knew you were close.

he increased his pace, deep strokes hitting that special spot inside you with every thrust. his hands gripped your hips enough to bruise as he fucked his dick into you, grunting with the effort of holding himself back from his own release.

and with a strangled cry, you came undone beneath him. ni-ki followed soon after with a moan of your name, pulling out before spilling his cum all over your thighs.

after cleaning up, ni-ki crawled back into bed and pulled you to his chest, kissing your face and neck but you moved and positioned yourself in his hips, where his hardening cock already poking on your sensitive, beaten entrance. "ready again?" he chuckled, wrapping his arms on your waist, his face nuzzling on your neck.

you giggled and sank down on him with a gasp. ni-ki groaned at the slick heat enveloping him again, making love with more confidence this time around.

rounds later, you're all sweaty and tired. ni-ki wondered dazedly if he'd turned his sweet, innocent girl into a sex addict. "you're so good, ni-ki..." you said, kissing him. to ni-ki, you looked like a sex god, your lips kiss-swollen, chest full of hickeys, your hair is a mess...

completely wrecked by him.

he wrapped his arms around your limp form and rolled to the side, careful not to dislodge from where he was still buried inside you.

and you're there thinking about worshipping ni-ki's body for the rest of your life.

"i'm going to fuck you all over again in the shower." he declared with a wicked grin. you answered with a moan that tells him it sounds like the perfect plan.

never knew sex could hit this different when it was out of love.

a/n: this is too long lol! enjoy <3 read part two

similar: Nishimura Riki as your boyfriend & Nishimura Riki as your classmate

masterlist: マスターリストm.list

[mssorceressupreme]

Under Your Control

———

Pairing: In ho x reader

Summary: you wake up almost bare one night, away from the other players, tried to someone’s bed in an all too luxurious bedroom.

only to discover that the person you loved, young-il was the frontman and he would stop at nothing to gain information out of you.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, dom!inho, sub!reader, non-con touch, age gap, oral f!receiving, fingering, hickeys, use of ropes/tied up, betrayal, stripping, toxic relationship, orgasm denial

———

The first thing you noticed was the softness beneath you—luxurious sheets that felt entirely foreign after the cold, hard floor of the hall. Blinking awake, your arms tugged instinctively, only to be met with resistance. Your wrists were tied to the bedposts, the smooth silk of the restraints deceptively gentle against your skin but firm enough to hold you in place. Panic bubbled in your chest as your eyes darted around the room.

It wasn’t like anywhere else you’d seen in this nightmare of a game. The room was extravagant, draped in rich fabrics and gilded accents, a far cry from the stark, utilitarian halls where the other players remained. The flickering light from a crystal chandelier above cast shifting shadows on the walls, adding to the eerie stillness.

“Where… where am I?” you murmured, your voice trembling. The silence pressed against you, broken only by the distant hum of machinery. You tugged harder against the restraints, your breath quickening. “Let me go!” you called out to no one in particular.

A creak at the far end of the room made your head snap toward the sound. A figure stepped into view, cloaked in black, their face hidden behind the sleek, metallic mask that sent chills through you. The mask’s emotionless design contrasted cruelly with the humanity you desperately searched for.

“Who are you?” you demanded, your voice rising despite the fear knotting in your throat. “Where am I? What’s going on?” You struggled against the restraints, the silk cutting slightly into your wrists.

The figure tilted their head, the movement slow, calculated. They took a step closer, then another, the weight of their presence suffocating. Finally, their gloved hand reached up, gripping the edge of the mask.

Time seemed to slow as they pulled it off, revealing a face you knew all too well.

“Young-il?” you breathed, disbelief flooding every syllable. Your heart twisted painfully, as though the air had been stolen from your lungs.

He smirked, the expression sharp, almost cruel, and yet it sent an unwelcome flutter through your chest. “Surprised, angel?” he said, his voice low and smooth, like honey laced with poison.

The nickname, one he’d used during the games, felt like a blade twisting in your heart. It was a cruel reminder of who you thought he was—the ally who had stood by your side, shared quiet moments of understanding, and made you feel safe.

And yet here he was, towering over you, not as a fellow player but as something far more sinister.

“You…” Your voice cracked as you stared at him, your emotions tangling into a knot of betrayal and heartbreak. “You lied to us. To me. You’re one of them.”

He chuckled softly, a sound that felt like a mockery of all the warmth you once thought he possessed. “Don’t be so dramatic,” he said, his tone playful but undercut with a dangerous edge. “I was doing what I had to. We all are.”

Your lip trembled, but you set your jaw, glaring at him even as your chest ached. “I trusted you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “...I loved you.”

His smirk faltered for a split second, a flicker of something softer passing through his eyes. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by that same icy exterior. He moved closer after taking off his coat to reveal a black tight fitted shirt underneath.

The mattress dipped under his weight as he hovered over your tied-up vulnerable body, both his legs on either side of your hips.

“I’m not here to talk about feelings, Y/N,” he said, leaning in just enough that his breath brushed against your cheek. “I need information.”

You turned your head away, refusing to meet his gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His hand cupped your jaw, gently but firmly turning your face back to him. The touch sent a jolt through you, confusing and unwelcome. “Don’t lie to me,” he said, his voice a quiet warning. “I know you’re close to Gi-hun. He trusts you. Now, tell me about that plan he told you.”

“No,” you said, the word shaking but resolute. “I won’t betray him. I won’t betray them.”

His lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. “Oh, angel,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.”

Before you could protest, his lips captured yours in a kiss that stole your breath. It was unexpected, overwhelming, and despite everything, it ignited something in you that you couldn’t suppress. Your resolve wavered as his hand moved to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss.

When he pulled away, you were left reeling, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. “Now,” he said, his voice softer but no less commanding, “tell me.”

You shook your head, biting your lip to keep from speaking. He tilted his head, his eyes scanning your body up and down, beneath him. He then caressed the side of your upper body, his hand making his way to your jacket zipper.

Shit, you weren't wearing a bra underneath today, nor a shirt, because it was supposedly bedtime. Slowly, he undid your zipper, exposing your cloth-less skin. "No bra?"

You laid beneath him shaking your head slightly, now bare, even more vulnerable.

"Look at you, so fucking pretty..." He then leaned in, "I might have to be rough if you don't tell me what I want..." He cooed, almost mockingly. His lips ghosting over yours, teasing, before pressing another kiss to them, sucking lightly. This time, your body betrayed you entirely, melting into him despite the storm of emotions crashing within you. Straightening himself up, he pulled your pants down while still hovering over you, leaving you in your undies. He pressed his thumb to your throbbing clit, with pressure before slowly stroking your folds over the fabric of your undies.

“Stop,” you whispered, though the word lacked conviction. “Please...” Yet, he continued, slipping two fingers inside your undies before stroking your folds again. You tried to resist his touch, you hated this, you hated him for betraying you guys. But your body felt differently. Trying to resist the pleasure, you forced yourself to not react, however, your body kept twitching under his touch and from all the pleasure building up.

“Then talk,” he murmured against your lips, his voice a velvet threat.

The push and pull was too much. Your heart warred with your mind, your love for him tangling with the sharp sting of his betrayal. "I won't." You spat, and he responded by inserting two fingers harshly inside you. You moaned, tilting your head back, panting heavily as he began pumping in and out of you. "Stop..." You pleaded, whimpering as he picked up his pace. Your breathing was heavy, gosh, he managed to make you feel so good, you were like putty under his control. "You tell me to stop, yet your body tells me otherwise...." His voice was low, sensual, "...so fucking wet for me..."

You felt your climax near approaching, your heartbeat quickening, you were close. "Young-il..." You plead, once more. "I'm gonna....I'm getting close..." Barely a whisper came out, your eyes shut tightly, body melting under his touch. "I'm gonna cum..."

He continued, pumping deeper and faster, and your climax was getting close and closer until...

He pulled his fingers out.

"Don't stop please..." You begged, "please Young-il I need you..." You mentally slapped yourself for sounding so needy, begging for more. No matter how mad you were, a part of you still wanted him. He smirked, seeing how needy you were for him which also fuelled his own desire. His bulge was evident, pressing against your thigh.

Young-il stroked your cheeks softly, "Oh Y/N, you'll get what you want...once you tell me his plan."

"I already told you I won't." You retort. "Such a stubborn, pretty mouth, hm?" He gazed into your eyes, filled with lust. He wanted you so bad, he'd do anything to make his name fall from your pretty mouth again.

He bent down, planting sloppy kisses on your collarbone down to your stomach. Sucking harshly till he left a bruise, "You'll look even more gorgeous with my marks all over you." Shifting down, Young-il moved closer to your cunt, making eye contact while he licked your folds.

"Young-il..." You moaned, body involuntarily arching, bucking your hips up into his face. Placing his hands on the velvety part of your inner thighs, he parted your legs wider before leaning in again to place kitten licks on your cunt.

"You taste so good angel..." He murmured into you.

He made sure to suck on your clit, with extra pressure, licking between the folds, slowly but sensually. "Young-il please..." You whimpered.

He pulled away slightly, "You want me to let you cum?"

"Please..." You begged, breathing heavily.

"Please what?" He retorted, "Use your words beautiful."

"Please make me cum..." You whined, before he continued, licking your whole slit, your became wetter by the second, body begging for more.

"The plan." He demanded you to tell him, "Now." Before pulling away again.

You groaned, wanting more, needing more. Your body so close filled with arousal, yet so far from a climax.

He leaned down once more, sucking on your clit again.

"The guards!-" You cried aloud, overwhelmed with pleasure. "An attack at midnight..." You moaned softly.

"Anything else?" Young-il smirked, knowing the control he had over you. "That's Gi-hun's plan...attack management at midnight when they've assumed we're asleep." You blurt out, which you immediately regretted. You told him what he wanted to know—about Gi-hun’s plan, the uprising, the desperate hope for freedom. Satisfied, Young-il sucked harder, licking every inch of your cunt with fervour. You moaned loudly, panting heavily as you came closer to a climax.

"I'm so close...gonna cum..." You arched your back further, "I'm gonna..." Then it washed over you, your body jerking harshly as it filled with pleasure. Your walls throbbed, and you felt a rush to your core; you let out a moan, hands tangling in Young-il's hair as you came.

When you finished, he pulled back, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. He reached out, brushing a hair from your face with a gentleness that felt like a cruel mockery. “Good girl,” he said softly.

You turned your face away, tears slipping silently down your cheeks as guilt and shame consumed you. He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, "See that wasn't so hard was it." Young-il zipped up your jacket and helped you put on your track pants but still leaving you tied up.

He stood up, getting off the bed, “Not a word of this to anyone,” he said, his voice cold and unfeeling once more. “If you do, they’ll die. Every last one of them.”

You nodded, unable to speak. "Sleep here for tonight, the bed is more comfortable." He spoke while putting on his jacket, "When you wake up tomorrow, you'll be back in the hall with the others. I'll see you there angel." He winked, placing the mask back over his face before walking away.

Your body tremlbed as the door closed behind him.

Despite everything, your heart still ached for him. And that, more than anything, was the cruelest twist of all.

[zreamy]

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

permanent tag list: @asahicore @ikeublr @loverseon @dreamy-carat @littlefluu @cherrymxxnie @mrloverboy3000 @blooqz @immortalonie @enhastolemyheart @fancypeacepersona @heatrache @kxwinasblog @kimjkejyy @anofi

[fear-is-truth]

BEING IN A POLY RELATIONSHIP WITH THANOS & NAM-GYU l headcanons

pairing — thanos x reader x nam-gyu warnings — (mild) s2 spoilers. smut author’s note — i wrote some corny lyrics for this lol

──⟢  fear-is-truth — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

thanos recruited you into his “team” because of his attraction to you. the rapper didn’t try to hide that he found you hot, and he made sure you knew it, throwing compliments your way. his flirting was over-the-top and shameless. he’d call you “senorita” or “babe” in a sing-song voice, leaning in close to make sure you couldn’t ignore him. his favourite move was to serenade you with cheesy raps that made everyone cringe.

one day, thanos sidles up to you, a wide, cocky-ass smirk plastered on his face. he’s got his hands on his hips, like he’s about to drop the hottest bars in the universe. “yo, senorita,” he starts, “you’re the queen of my world, can’t you see? ain’t no one gonna take my throne, you and me, together, baby, we’re destiny!” while nam-gyu, in the background, is rolling his eyes so hard he could probably see the back of his skull. but thanos keeps going, totally into it, “baby, we can rule the game, you and i, got them all thinking i’m the reason they’ll die. you’ll be my queen, i’ll be your king, together we’ll make this whole thing sing!” it’s a miracle you don’t combust from secondhand embarrassment.

nam-gyu, as thanos’s second-in-command, was pissed from the start. in the beginning, it seemed like he was just territorial—angry that you were disrupting the group dynamic. he’d throw side comments like, “oh, great, now we’ve got a distraction,” and give you cold, assessing looks. his irritation was obvious, especially when thanos started giving you preferential treatment, like sitting beside you during meals or casually throwing an arm over your shoulder during group talks.

he tried to act more “mature” than thanos (spoiler: he wasn’t). his idea of flirting was to act tough, which mostly involved bullying weaker players to look impressive. it was like watching a middle schooler try to flex for their crush. in reality, he just looks like an asshole, and you feel annoyed by his attempts to bully someone into submission to show off. he catches your disapproving glare and immediately tries to backtrack, but it just makes it worse.

thanos wasn’t subtle about his future plans for you. “after we win this thing, you’re coming with me,” he promised you confidently. “i’ll make you my official girl. the fans will eat it up—thanos and his queen.” he didn’t ask if you wanted that, just assumed you’d go along with it lol. nam-gyu, on the other hand, played dirtier. when thanos wasn’t around, he tried to plant seeds of doubt in your mind, leaning in to whisper confidentially. “he’s a scumbag, you know. all talk, no loyalty. don’t let him fool you,”

during meals, both of them insisted on sitting next to you, even if it meant practically wrestling each other to the ground. there were no tables, just groups eating near the bunk beds or stairs leading up to them, and you always ended up sandwiched between the two guys. thanos would slouch with his arm around your shoulders, smirking at anyone who looked your way. nam-gyu would mutter snide comments under his breath, low enough for you to hear, but not enough for thanos to notice.

then came the game “mingle,” where the players had to group up based on a random number announced over the PA system. when the voice said “two,” both thanos and nam-gyu grabbed your arm at the same time. “she’s going with me,” thanos barked, pulling you toward him. “what the fuck about me?” nam-gyu shot back, tugging you in the opposite direction. if it hadn’t been for se-mi, who quickly pulled you into a room with her (the two boys found a room next to you), the four of you would’ve fucking died.

the tension escalated at night. at first, both of them insisted on sleeping next to your bunk bed. but as time went on, they started fighting over who got to sleep in your bed. it started as bickering—“move, she doesn’t want you here,” nam-gyu would snap, trying to shove thanos aside. “speak for yourself, bro,” thanos would shoot back, climbing up anyway. it’s like a power struggle between two self-proclaimed alpha males, but it’s over you, which just feels awkward. each one tries to subtly imply their superiority by making the argument about who has the better “qualifications” to be your bunkmate. eventually, the rivalry reached its peak when they both tried to squeeze into your bed at the same time. you ended up stuck between them, neither willing to back down, and neither particularly caring how uncomfortable it made you.

despite the rivalry, the situation eventually settles into some sort of… equilibrium. neither thanos nor nam-gyu backed down completely, but they seemed to reach an unspoken agreement. the two of them started “sharing” you, like some fucked up custody arrangement.

you start to realise that maybe—just maybe—this unholy triangle might not be such a bad thing after all. meal time turned into a prelude for something else entirely. when everyone was distracted, one of them would catch your eye, silently signaling for you to follow. you’d find yourself slipping away to meet them in the bathroom stall.

thanos is all energy, and unable to shut up—being balls deep inside you, his dirty talk came easily, an endless stream of words that tumbled out in rapid succession, that had you equal parts flustered and irritated. especially with how careless he was. you’d have to kiss him just to silence him, pressing your lips to his until his words were replaced by muffled groans. whenever you grabbed his hair, his reaction was instant—a breathy whimper that only seemed to spur him on more. but almost as quickly as the sound left his lips, he was smirking, leaning in to tease you. “don’t mess it up, baby,” he’d warn, his voice playful yet smug. “this shit cost a lot to style.”

nam-gyu, in contrast, was rougher and far less interested in theatrics. he wasn’t one for words—far too focused to waste time on anything unnecessary. he had you pinned firmly against the partition wall, the cool surface digging into your back as beads of perspiration formed along his brow. the thin structure trembled violently under the sheer force of his movements, creaking with every thrust as though it might give way at any second. the silence between you was broken only by a few curses and grunts that escaped him.

[fics-lovebot]

enhypen fic recs pt.5

main masterlist - pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4

· · ♡ · · tysm to the amazing creative minds of the writers for giving me sevaral moments of joy reading your creations

these are my personal favs, so pls reblog if you like any of my recs❤️

kiss me, he´s watching - ( @enhaflixer ) smut, fake bf!Heeseung x being stalked!reader - You kissed Heeseung to escape your stalker’s gaze—this is diffferentttt, i loved reading it sm, felt like a movie

cherry trees - ( @enhaflixer ) smut, angst, fluff, second chandce rom, arranged husband!Jungwon x trophy wife!reader - WHEWWWW this was intenssee, I LOVE WHEN MEN FUCK UP AND THEN GO INSANE :p. also, the whole plot felt real, like hard work was being put in to fix everything. deff one of my jungwon favs out there

change your ticket - ( @demusewriter ) so much fluff, Idol!Jungwon x Non-idol!reader. yESSSss, loved the yearning

the grinch that stole my… pants? - ( @mandukkul ) fluff, crack. bf!ni-ki x fIreader, established relationship. nahh this is so cute, reader is valid af

quacked up - ( @veilstqr ) downbad!ni-ki, fluff and crack x ni-ki being whipped and the members not letting him breathe. jungwon is so wrong for that lmao, poor niki

rich boy enha - ( @blairbliss ) fluff, rich!ot7, this is like my dream come true. rICH PRETTY MEN IN LOVE, THAT´S WHAT IM ABOUT

faces and sounds they make - ( @enhaflixer ) smut, ot7. YESSSSSSSSSSSSS, i have no words. this had me grinning like a gremling. yall know that one freaky sonic gif? yeah.

between the shelves - ( @liuhsng ) fluff, strangers to lover, soulmate au, alpha!jake, omega!reader, alpha!enha. I LOVEDDD THISSSSSSS, jake´s so dreamy cool and collected, got me giggling and kicking my feet

perv!sunghoon - ( @urlovebot ) smut. MY JAW IS ON THE FLOOR. this is crrraazzzzyyyyyyyyyyyyy

the price of perfection - ( @woniedarlin ) angst, fluff, academic rival!jake, academic pressure. now now, i know i said i hate those academy rivals, work rivals, enemies to lovers tropes, and i do!, BUUTTT this one´s differente. They aren´t really rivals, she´s just jealouse and jake´s just vibing lmao, but they end up being what each other´s need

king of tears - ( @enhaflixer ) ANGST, fluff, smut. Chaebol Husband!Sunghoon, slow burn, second chance rom. WHAT COMES AFTER 7???? this is honestly amazing, i´ve never read a kdrama inspired fic like this one, so so good. and as the Angsty Fic Ambassador, i aprove tf out of this skdjfkjf, also SUNOO AND NIKI HAD ME CACKLING. After you´re done, read this one too

heavy little love - ( @hazelira ) fluff :´(. dad!heeseung, this is so wholesome, so beautiful. i also believe he´s such a boy dad idk idk.

i´ll never let that happen again - ( @semisasseater ) fluff, angst, protective bf!niki. this one´s for my delulu riki stans, ik you´ll like it :p

take me back! - ( @heeseung64 ) text au, suggestive. desperate ex!hee, bad bitch!reader as she should. sdfkjskj this ones funny af, i do like them a lil crazy anyway

the dollmaker - ( @faeyun ) smut, fluff lowk, husband!sunghoon, dark gothic heavy themes (read warnings). YUUUPPPP, this is an art piece right here. wowwww, author i love ur brain, i´ve never read anything like this!

wrong contact - ( @heeseung64 ) text au, best friend!enha. love love accidental confessiones sjdskjf had me giggling and kicking my feet like the delulu ass bitch i am

off the ice - ( @luvsicktyun ) angst, smut, fluff. hockey player!jake, pregnant!reader, college au, accidental pregnancy trope. this is gewddd, i love how this is written. reader feelings are so so valid and real, getting pregg after a ons by a man who´s future doesn´t seem to include being a father whatsoever is scary af, luckily this is sim jake we´re talking about

beneath the blue - ( @enjakey ) fluff, smut, the plot is EVERYTHING. marine engineer!Jake x marine biologist!Fem!Reade. HOW DOESNT THIS HAVE LIKE +30K NOTES??????? THIS IS A WHOLE MOVIE, ARE YOU KIDDING ME????? people really don´t appreciate lengthy, detailed, beautifully written fics with a thick-interesting-innovating plot anymore and that´s fucking sad. author, this is a MASTERPIECE

caught in my web - ( @fatalhoon ) fluff, crack. spiderman!jake, loser!jake, bsf!reader, school au. this is so cuuteeee and jake aint sleek at all lmao

just married - ( @bywons ) FLUFF, down bad!sunghoon (YOU ALREADY KNOW IM EATING TS UPPP), drunk!sunghoon, not him wanting to elope and get married after breakdancing at a friend´s wedding, i love this sm

hoodie thief - ( @tobiosbbyghorl ) smut, fluff, roomamate!sunghoon, he´s a total boobs guy (canon) so him losing it over them isn´t strange lmao, loved this

richman´s world - ( @okwonyo ) text au, fluff, ceo!jay. ahaha i´m gonna crash tf oUT bc wdym HE´S RICH AF AND GETS TURNED ON BY YOU SPENDING HIS MONEYYYDSLFLSKJFHSKJH and he´s dOWN BAD TOO????? you´re done.

let´s play - ( @fgumi ) crack, fluff. not heeseung getting humbled by his own gf on LOL lmao

loser in a hot man´s body - ( @fgumi ) fluff, school/college au, loser bf!hee (LETSFUCKINGGOOOO) x hot popular!gf. i LOVEEEEEEEEE a hot man with a quirky personality who´s down bad for his gf, i eat it up EVERY TIME

my kind of girl - ( @okwonyo ) scenarios of bf!enha getting on their knees for you. wait why ni-ki kinda,,, afhalksfjhlajfhlah, i love this

[urprettylildoe]

𝒮𝒽𝒶𝒸𝓀𝓁ℯ𝒹

♡ yandere football player x fem reader ♡ Every girl wanted to be with him and every guy wanted to be him, and to everyone around the world he was considered the embodiment of perfection. But there's more to what meets the eye, and you're one of the only people who know that very well. ♡ word count: 1.9k words ♡ warnings: yandere/obsessive behaviour, dependency, toxic relationship, kidnapping, attempted drugging, very brief and implied self-harm, nsfw (non-con)

His team had won yet again.

Critics weren't just analysing the performance itself but one particular figure that always made his presence known; whether it was deliberate or natural.

Looks, money, charisma, talent; what characteristic didn't the renowned football star possess?

Blake's motivator was his love for things that kept him on his toes and sent a rush of excitement through his veins.

The constant chanting of his name from the crowds was like music to his ears. He waved and shot them a pretty smile adorned with dimples that would surely make magazine covers.

Cameras zoomed in on each of the team players as they walked out of the field. Pushing the hair out of his eyes, he stared into the camera.

The world out there didn't know that it was reserved for one particular person, and they knew who they were.

A message.

I know you're watching.

♡

"And how do you feel about today's performance?" The lady smiled almost too brightly, holding the microphone up towards him.

"I think we gave it our all today and I couldn't have done without my team," he enthusiastically recited as if he hadn't been practising with his manager for the perfect PR response to the questions. Blake was a natural in front of the camera — he threw in some jokes and made sure to flash those pearly whites every now and then.

The interviewer chuckled, "Oh please, don't be so modest. You were amazing out there, Blake. Give yourself some credit, will ya?"

A few more minutes passed with them going back and forth before he was finally asked million dollar question:

"so, we're all dying to know, any relationship updates we should be aware of?"

For a split second, his flawless facade cracked and his smile faltered, his jaw ticking with something unpleasant. Then, almost as if nothing happened, his expression turned carefully neutral and he maintained a polite smile, "my personal life is just that, personal."

Translation: i'm not answering that. In any other situation, he'd have no problem saying it directly, but he'd rather not listen to his agent talking his ear off about it later.

But the woman obviously did not pick up on the implication and if she did, she didn't mention it. Instead, she leaned in and brushed her hand against his bicep at an attempt of subtle flirting, "Oh, come on. You're one of the most eligible bachelors in the country. Surely there's someone special in your life?"

He feigned embarrassment rather than expressing his anger and scratched the back of his head, "you're really putting me on the spot here." He paused, then added, "i'm just focused on my career at the moment. And as they say, good things come to those who wait, right?"

His answer shut the interviewer down and the last line did have some truth to it. Patience is a virtue.

♡

Pushing the bathroom door open, his hands gripped one of the sinks and he took a moment to calm his nerves.

They don't know. They don't know. It's okay.

His gaze dropped to the scar marring his otherwise perfect skin in the mirror, right under his bottom lip. Yet, instead of frustration like his manager had expressed with utter disappointment, warmth he was all too familiar with fluttered in his chest.

This was no burden, but a gift from his favourite little songbird after one of her many tantrums of be let out of the golden cage. Though it is a hassle to calm her back down, he did cherish the mark imprinted on his skin.

Blake tutted, eyes narrowing as he scrutinised it further. It was fading; he'll need to fix that up soon enough.

He shrugged on a jacket and drove home in his sleek car, ready to finally relax. The day drained him of all his energy.

Or perhaps it didn't, because when he reached his home, all of the anger bubbled up to the surface. Patience was not a virtue, because his had reached its limit because of a certain dove.

♡

Tonight was the night.

The night where you would finally be free of the shackles that bound you to that horrible, horrible man.

Blake.

To his fans and the world, he's a passionate and talented athlete. To you? He's a monster. One that stripped you off everything you've known, one that kept you for his selfish desires, one that held a warped version of 'love' in his heart.

You wanted to flee. Not even tell the police, just run far, far away where he couldn't reach you, where you would be your own person and not some pretty ornament he'd come home to admire every day.

Sanity hanging by a thread, you slipped down the marble stairs in just your socks and cute pajamas. Any captive should have injuries and tattered clothes. Except, your captor wasn't normal. And while you didn't have any physical injuries, you were still hurt.

You were supposed to be asleep, if everything went according to his plan (which usually did). The opportunity was too good to pass up; he was leaving for a match for hours. When he had given you the pill with a fond smile, you returned it and made an act of swallowing, all while keeping it under your tongue. The doors were locked due to his paranoia so you couldn't escape through there. Not to mention your hands and feet were tied, so you spent time on those too.

Finally, the makeshift rope was ready. Hours of twisting bedsheets together finally paid off and now you were ready.

One look out the window and you were already nauseous. It was such a high drop and you weren't willing to die, not yet at least. The rope tumbled down till it nearly reached the bottom, only a few feet off the garden grounds.

In and out. Nothing is going to happen.

Wrapping your limbs around the clothing, your hands clenched around it. Your eyes closed and you let yourself slide. Breathing fresh air felt true bliss, like this was your first time.

When you reached the bottom, your knees trembled with the gravity of what's going on. The closest thing you let out to a relieved sigh was a choked sound out of your throat.

You were free. You. Were. Free.

No more punishments, no more suffering, no more of his constricting love, no more-

maniacal laughter rings through the air sharply, making you halt. No.

You'd recognise it anywhere, even if you didn't want to.

"Wow, I leave for a few hours and come back to this?" He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye in amusement, though you caught a vein in his forehead throbbing. "You surprise me every time, baby. Though I gotta admit i'm a little...hurt."

Your heart stopped and you took a step back, whipping around to face him. Such beauty he had, but so undeserving of it. Your nails had dug blood out of your palms, making them dully ache however not as deep as his confessions of 'love' would pierce your heart.

He didn't have nothing in that chest but rotting flesh.

"Now, now, none of that." He grinned as he followed your steps with his longer, stronger legs and you could only pray that he showed mercy. "You really didn't think you'd get away, did you? You truly do underestimate the lengths I'd go for you.

I give you the most beautiful home, the finest foods — my love. And this is how you repay? By running away from me? From us?"

His voice progressively got louder with each word. You really pushed him to the limits.

"I-I'm sorry-"

Cutting you off, large hands shaky with barely concealed raged cluched either sides of your head, "shh, I know you are. But sorry isn't enough anymore."

It wasn't a normal, torturous kind of punishment — no, you wished it was. You wondered if falling from the window was a better fate than this.

His voice softened at your sniffles, almost as if he was comforting you, shielding from a danger that nothing seemed to poise but him. "Hey, hey, don't cry. C'mon, my dove. If you're good, I won't go too hard on you."

Cries spilled past your lips, begging him that you were sorry and that you weren't going to do it again.

And really, you were never going to. Not after what he did to you afterwards.

You were reduced to a small ball to shivers and hiccups underneath Blake on the soft, fluid-stained sheets. The pink sleepwear was discarded on the floor. Equally bare, his muscles from all the training were on display. He was now beaming affectionately as he watched your tuckered out expression.

This wasn't the first time you've been violated, obviously. But this time it felt worse, like the pain of reality came crashing down on you like a tsunami ten times harder than before. It didn't help that he kept on whispering sweet threats in your ear.

He had branded your skin roughly and taken you, only to cradle you gently with a lover's touch. The drug he had injected you with made you a willing participant in his game, made you ache with desire for the one being you wanted to hate.

You slurred like a broken record, unsure of what was even going on anymore, "m'sorry, I didn't mean to...hic"

"It's okay, it's okay" he sang softly, brushing your sweaty hair out of your eyes, "y'know punishing you hurts me more than it does you, but I had to do this, you were trying to leave me, sweet thing."

A small, hidden part of you still wanted to fight for your freedom, to save yourself.

"you're so silly, thinking anyone would believe you if you ran away." He cooed, peppering loving kisses all over your face.

You closed your eyes and weakly whimpered. They would believe you, they would. Wouldn't they?

"Sometimes, the thoughts become too much for that pretty little head, don't they? You can't possible take all of it at once. But that's why i'm here. To protect you from every bad thing in the world."

His hand cupped your cheek as he tilted his head down, pressing his lips against your forehead, "I'll give you the world. Just — promise not to leave me again"

The sentences tumbling out his mouth just made you feel even more horrible.

You were broken. You had tried to convince yourself otherwise, but it was all in vain. He had shattered you into pieces and rebuilt you to fit his preferences. If you looked into the mirror right now, you don't think you would recognise yourself.

Maybe he was right. Maybe you weren't cut out for the world, maybe there were dangerous things out to get you, maybe safety was in his arms.

"Rest, i'll take care of you"

You let your eyes droop shut. Yeah, that sounded about right. He'll take care of you.

Once you finally nestled against the comfort of his chest with tiny snores, was he finally able to celebrate another accomplishment. He can't remember the last time he didn't have something he wanted, even if his beautiful dove was putting up a fight against him.

♡

Copyright © 2025 urprettylildoe. All rights reserved.

Yours truly,

@urprettylildoe

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

One hell of a team | In-ho x Wife!Reader |

Summary: You will follow your husband anywhere.

Warnings: S2 Spoilers - Violence - Different back story for In-ho - Blood - Death - Use of (Y/N) - Reader gets called "love" -

The Frontman, the man with the most power within the island, to who the guards obey without question.

Was currently trembling under his wife pointed look.

"You want to enter the games?" You asked him, your tone cold and almost jugdmental.

In-ho calmed himself down. It was an idea that stayed with him after the death of the Chairman and even more with how player 456 had insisted the last two years in finding them. He had played before and won, he knew how terrible others could be, he had walked out like a new man, used the money for himself and you. Never really gave much thought on how many lives were lost.

But, for some reason he wanted to go again.

"Im going with you"

His glass of wishky fell onto the floor, the loud crash did nothing to bother you while you ate.

"No, thats not happening. I need you here to control the games and guards" In-ho started trying to get a valid reason to why you defenetly should not come.

"Oh, you need me to? Well I need you here. With me. With our family. How do you think I would do seeing you there ? I still remember how you got when you came back from these the first time"

"That was different" The Frontman said taking a deep breath "I wont be just one more player, it will be like when the Chairman went in"

"That still does not ease my mind" (Y/N) responded "Till death do us a part and follow you anywhere" you recited showing him your weeding ring. "Remember?"

In-ho felt his chest got thight at the sight and the memory of the small yet full of love weeding you two had back when life was more simple.

"Alright, you can come with me. Its not like you would wait for my approval" he responded smiling at the end "But no one must know that we are married, you understand that ?" He added now serious

"Of course, its what makes more sense, we will just casually meet there and see how it plays" You nodded to him "And please, better clean up that glass before someone steps on it"

"On it, love"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

For the most part pretending not to know each other was easier than expected. While you knew the guards knew who you two were you were still a bit scared. Specially during the green and red light, since both of you had got separated and now you were froze in your spot.

"You need to move" In-ho said from behind his arm playing along "Follow me in the next sing, alright? Just take my hand"

"Im scared, im sorry" You said feeling guilty over wanting to be there with him and starting to fail on the first game no less.

"I know, I was too. But im here, just follow me"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

You had to hide your smirk when he pressed the circle to go on with the games, you knew he would do it just to piss off Player 456 and make things more cahotic.

He went with the rest and stood besides you trying himself not to smile at you.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

The first approach to Gi-huns team was tense to say the least. You two had voted circle and even worse In-ho had been the vote that ended the tie.

But with his own charisma and yours you two got to be on his good side.

Till In-ho decided to talk, really you sometimes forgot who sassy he could be.

"And some picked umbrella?" He asked faking suprise when he had seen it on first hand. "Most of them died I assume"

You could see the look on player 456 and decided to be more sensitive

"Hey, dont be like that. Im sure they went in blind and did not know what it was about" You said keeping a safe distance so no one would think you two were together or knew each other before the games.

In-ho was having too much fun.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

That first night they both were in their respective beds. Still keeping their false relationship. However once (Y/N) was sure all were asleep she went towards In-ho who was awake like he knew she would be coming to him.

"Are you alright?" He asked in a whisper, worried that for her this would be too much.

"Im fine, I wanted to see if you were fine"

He nodded not saying a thing but taking her hand.

"Also, I saw you break that fight, really ? When did you even learn to do that ?" This made him smile and hold her hand thighter "Really! I only see you in your office all the time"

"You think I would come in here without knowing how to defend myself or you?"

She smiled at him, blushing in the dark. "No....I just thought all you did was be in your office and give orders"

In-ho rolled his eyes "Just wait till we are out of here, i will show you just how fit im"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

The six legs game was both a chaos and funny. Honeslty you could not help yourself on hugging him and player 456 (who was slowly getting on your soft side) as you saw a team win.

However the shoots that came for these who did not survive were too much. You would swear In-ho gave the guards a cold stare because you would flinch sometimes.

"Hey, dont worry they wont shoot the ones who havent played" Player 456 reassured you with a calm tone

You nodded, knowing that even if you lost they wont shoot you or In-ho. It was still sweet to see him trying to calm you down.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

"Not a word" He said during the night when you two were able to talk again.

"I was not going to say a thing, but you did in on purpose or were you really missing ?"

In-ho closed his eyes knowing you would later get the recording of him missing during the game and use it against him.

"It was all planned" he said trying to sound as convincing as he could.

"Whatever you say Honey"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

The game of making pairs gave you nausea because of the carousel kept spinning around. And the rounds were stress again. The worse part was getting separated from In-ho who find you seeing how two players were dragging you so they could have the number they needed.

You havent see him get that angry in years, his protective self being on as he pulled one from the neck and punched the other one.

He kept punching almost forgetting there was a game you two were supposed to play.

"Leave him we still need two more" You urged only for a guard to shove two confused and scared players besides you and In-ho.

"We got them" He assured getting your hand and going to one room.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

"In-ho!! (Y/N)!!" The worried screams of Gi-hun filled the place as he looked for both of you.

Even if he had promised to try and dont get attached to new players and survive he could not help but feel a connection with both of you.

"Gi-hun!" In-ho's voice called making him look over and see him coming towards the rest with you by hand something that made him curious but decided not to ask.

"Im glad to see you two alright" Gi-hun said seeing just a few bruises on you, and noticing blood on In-ho knuckles.

You catched his eyes and went to explain "He saved me" you told the rest looking at them then at In-ho who was looking back at you "I would have not made it otherwise"

The look of love you two shared was so genuine, some wonder if you two were together but trying to be discrete to protect yourselfs.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

"They will most likely attack us tonight" Gi-hun explained as he showed the fork the guards had left when the food was given.

The idea only assented itself when the men returned from the bathroom, with blood on them. 

"And what do you propouse us to do?" In-ho asked all of the Xs were in a circle trying to listen to what Gi-hun had to say.

Gi-hun told the others his plan, honestly you thoguht it was nusts, it wont work. They were far suprassed on numbers but you had to shut yourself up.

You could tell your husband was both amazed by it and even kind of respecting it. Or at least that what he showed to him. He needed Gi-hun's trust after all.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

"Hide well" In-ho said besides you in a low tone "We can trust the guards but till they get here we cant trust the others"

You nodded knowing that very well since this was a typical phase of the game for years.

"We will be safe" You said holding his shoulder. "Do what you have to do, dont worry about me" You tried to make him feel at ease but he could not. The only thing that scared him more than anything were the other players trying to get to you.

"Just hang in there" He responded his forehead against yours.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

The fight was on its hot spot. The players were killing each other without a second thought.

Nothing like living it, even if you have seen this type of thing multiple times. Its was unnerving to see them just going at each others troath. The screams and cries were too much for a moment, the dark did nothing to help.

Thats when you felt it. Someone had dragged you out from under the bed and was now on top of you. You saw the player move their left hand ready to Strike at you. You tried to punch and defend yourself but the person on top was too strong.

A cold scream left your mouth as the fork pierced your shoulder.

You could not help it, the adrenaline and anxiety was getting on you.

"In-ho! In-ho help me please" You screamed for him, your husband the love of your life.

"Shut up, the next one will be your neck" The person said and for a moment you saw it. Dying in here and leaving In-ho.

Till you felt the person being pushed and the screams of them. You blinked trying to make sense.

It was In-ho, he had taken the fork from the player and was now piercing the neck of the player, not even leaving a chance for them to survive.

"GO HIDE NOW!!" In-ho ordered, he being scared himself and angry. He saw red when you were dragged and it was for the brutal grip Gi-hun had on his arm that he did not move faster.

You did as told getting under another bed and making sure no one could reach you.

"You fucking scum! How dare you lay hands on my wife" In-ho almost screamed too angry to see that the player was now dead. All his face and hands where covered in blood.

"Stop it!! They are dead, we need to continue the plan, the lights will be back soon" Gi-hun said taking him and pulling him away from the dead player.

"Get (Y/N), and be ready" Gi-hun told him trying to keep himself calm even when he was close to jump over and save you and In-ho. He wondered if he had hear it right, you were his wife?

In-ho did not waste time, searching for you in the dark till he noticed you. He went quick, pulling yourself out from the bed telling you its was him.

"Shh shh its me, its over dont cry Love" He said trying to make you feel better.

"In-ho?" He nodded and you cried harder "In-ho I was so scared"

"I know love I know, just a bit more alright? It will be over soon. Listen once the guards come in and we follow Gi-huns plan do not come. Someone will come and get you"

"Im going with you, im not leaving you in a bullet fight!"

"You know nothings gonna happen to me, I want you here, safe, alright?"

Finally you accepted.

"I love you In-ho"

"I love you too Love"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

As In-ho had said when the guards got back after the fight one took you, Player 120 tried to protest but was put back in her place by other guard.

"You are under suspect of have been part of the riot. You are now eliminated from the games"

The guard said playing his role, starting to get you out of the room while you screamed following the act.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

"Apologies Madam, orders from the Front Man" The guard said bowing once you two were outside and out of reach from the others players.

Even if you were still breathing hard you nodded. "Dont worry, just take me to him". The guard nodded.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

He knew he was needed in the control room but refused to let you alone like that. He went to your share room, his heart broke at your image, bruises and blood over you. A guard was checking your shoulder but left after he order them to.

Silence fell over both of you as he went to you and hugged you careful not to hurt your shoulder.

He removed his mask to look at you properly.

"Im sorry, I should have never let you come, I should have stopped this sooner" He said with pain in his voice

"Dont blame yourself, I told you I was going in with you. This was not your fault In-ho" You reassured him feeling sad and worried over him.

"I cant not blame myself" He gently passed his hand over your cheeck "You are the best thing in my life and I almost lost you because of my own desires, never again"

You two kissed softly grounding yourselfs. You two were safe and together nothing else matters from now. Only the love and devotion you two had for each other.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

[jakedustry]

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐔𝐓 - 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐌

IN WHICH Jake Sim loves hockey, he loves it so much he is willing to spend his every free minute on the ice skating, but he also finds himself falling in love with you—the only girl his coach doesn't want him to date. But with the way you look at him, can he stay far enough to keep his position as the captain?

pairing– hockey captain!Jake x fem!reader

featuring– Enhypen members, Dani and Manon of katseye, Taehyun and Huening of txt, Keeho and Intak of piwon

genre– Fluff, Smut, slightly angst

warnings/contains– SMUT, simp!jake, kinda love at first sight, protective father, good relationships with parents, food mentions, Jake is very much a dream boyfriend, jake has a license, lots of teasing and flirting, secrete relationship, reader is told to be slightly shorter than Jake, nicknames/pet names used, parents get in the way of their relationship, masturbation (m & f), sexting, nudes exchange, oral (m & f), unprotected and protected sex, not proofread

word count– 25.5k

playlist »» ❝ It took five seconds to fall in love and two more to make you mine ❞ — Elijah Woods

↪ izzy adds... I've spend a good amount of time just looking at this picture of Jake instead of writing but honestly...can you blame me? It's the way he looks at me, I just can't adalhdlad Anyways, i'm glad to finally show you my baby because I've been meaning to write a hockey romance for sooo long. And what better present could I give myself than finally publishing it AND with Jake as the star character haha

m.list

Ice. Water. They were the same thing, right? And if water was a necessity, ice was as well, wasn’t it? Because truly, it was. 

There is no difference. Ice is simply frozen water, something we need to survive. 

And you needed ice to survive. The feeling of freedom when you moved around, the way your skates clung to your feet perfectly, and especially the memories the ice held. You couldn’t just give up on them, no matter how much you tried to. 

It wasn’t because you wouldn’t want to, in fact, you’d do anything to be able to step on the ice rink again, but it wasn’t within your capabilities to argue about the matter. It was overnight, without any previous warnings or discussions, and as you were picking up your things to leave for the ice rink before school, your dad stopped you, and your whole world had crumbled down. I don’t want you on my ice anymore. His words ring in your ears to this day, making you feel worse each time.

When you were younger, it was part of your daily routine to spend the afternoon there, hanging around with the players until late nights. One of the perks of being the NHL player’s daughter, you suppose. But then, in the blink of an eye, the father-daughter moments you loved so much, suddenly stopped. 

At first, he tried to excuse it by telling you you needed to focus on your studies, but the more time passed, the more obvious it became that he simply didn’t want you around. Whenever you asked him if you could join him when he had training, he brushed you off without any good reason. It didn’t matter who was on the ice, if he had a lesson with the kids or people your age—you just couldn’t go. 

It’s been four months since you last got to skate, and it felt like a part of you was missing. 

“Why don’t you just go when he isn’t around then?” Your roommate, Daniela, asks, her eyes softening when she notices your tired expression as you stare at your phone, looking through old pictures. “I don’t want to go behind his back,” you mumble without glancing up at her. 

“But you want to skate,” your other roommate, Manon, reminds you. You nod, putting down your phone and sighing as you notice the worried looks on their faces. “Well, then, how about we all go together? I might be able to get us in after closing hours,” you offer.

“I’m sorry, angel, I need to finish this project by midnight, so I can’t,” Manon excuses herself, and Dani follows soon after, saying she has two exams in the morning. “But you should still go,” she encourages you. “Go and have fun. We know how much it means to you,” Manon agrees with her, and you know you can’t back away now. You’ll definitely go tonight. 

As soon as your feet stepped on the ice rink, it felt as if everything was back to how it was supposed to be. The cold air hit your face and all your worries, all the stress you were feeling in the past few days, have washed off. You moved quickly, the blades of your skates cutting through the ice with ease. 

In that moment, you knew there was nothing else you needed. As long as you had the ability to skate, nothing else mattered. 

So, just like that, it became a routine. Every day, shortly after ten, you’ve gone to the ice rink, borrowing the keys from the manager and staying there for an hour at least. Daniela went with you from time to time, keeping you company as much as she could but at the end, you realized it was more convenient to just go alone, without having to worry about the time you’d leave or come back. 

You didn’t mind. You were skating again and that was enough. 

“Hello, Mr. Park,” you greet him with a smile, just like you had many times before. “You’re earlier than usual,” he comments, putting on his jacket and taking out a bunch of keys from his pocket. You smile, grabbing the keys from him. “I needed to get out,” you shrug. 

“You kids seem to do that a lot,” he shakes his head slightly. “School is a lot on you, huh?” You don’t answer, knowing just one look is enough as a response. When was it not a lot? “I see,” he nods, understanding. “In that case, I hope it helps you clear your head. Both of you.” 

“Both of us?” You frown as you tug the keys into your pocket. “Dani isn’t with me today, I’m alone.” 

You catch a change in his expression, a small yet visible flicker in his eyes, and it almost feels like he is planning something, as if there was something meaningful behind his actions. “Mr. Park,” you narrow your eyes at him, trying to see through him. He chuckles, sending you a warm smile before patting your shoulder and walking away. 

You watch him confusedly until his figure disappears and you turn around again. That was…weird, to say the least. Still, you decide not to pay it much attention and do what you always do—go on the ice. 

You smile, letting the feeling sink in before you furrow your eyebrows, the loud movement of the puck ringing in your ears. You look around, your eyes following the hockey player on the other side. You stare at the number 4 on his back, frowning when you realize you don’t recognize him. You always knew the names of every player on the team, their practice schedules, positions, and even the rankings your dad had for them. But now…you had no idea who this one was. 

A part of you hated your dad for it. 

You hated him for taking it from you. For taking the excitement you felt when you watched hockey players or figure skaters. Now, you felt like there was nothing connecting you to those sports. 

You take a seat on the closest bench, switching your shoes to your skates. You’re tying the laces when a loud pank interrupts you, the sound of the puck hitting the plexiglass making you flinch. You raise your head, watching as the boy stops in front of you when he sees you. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, pulling his helmet off with his empty hand, his hair sweaty. “That wasn’t meant to attack you or anything.” 

“I’m fine,” you brush it off, standing up with a casual shrug. “It’s not me you should be worried about, though. But rather your aim,” you point out. “And that stop didn’t look exactly stable, either.” You see him scoff, and slowly make your way toward the nearest entrance to the ice, your skates cutting through the surface with ease. 

“And who are you to judge? What exactly makes you think you know better than me?” he challenges you, his voice dripping with amusement as he leans on his hockey stick. 

You chuckle, turning slightly to look over your shoulder. You smirk. “Should I show you?” you tease, not bothered to wait for his answer as you swiftly push, gliding towards him, picking up your speed. 

His dark eyes widen in surprise and he drops his stick, his helmet following right after, expecting you to bump into him. However, you’re ready for that. With a swift movement, you take a sharp turn around him, coming to a perfect stop just behind him. “How’s that?” you ask, your voice filled with playful confidence. 

“Pretty good,” he breaths out, laughing in awe as he turns around to face you. “What’s your name, figure skater?” He asks, the mockery at the words ‘figure skater’ painfully obvious. “I’m not a figure skater,” you clarify, your movements precise as you pick up his dropped hockey stick. “I can handle the puck just as well,” you grin, imitating his moves from before and quickly scoring into the net. You strike a mockingly exaggerated bow, your name slipping past your lips, almost like a laugh in his face. 

What an introduction. 

“I’m Jake,” he says before picking up his helmet from the ground. You smile, skating backward away from him with his hockey stick still in your hands. He follows right away, and it’d be impossible not to notice the grin on his face. 

You take a few rounds around the rink, joking around with him as you skate backwards so you can see him. He has a cocky grin on his face, and for the first time, you don’t mind. You always hated seeing that look on men’s faces, when they thought they were above you, above everyone. But for some reason, his smirk didn’t look the same. 

At that moment, you think it might have hit both of you. The spark, the flame burning deep down in your stomach as you laugh together over nothing. 

You slow down so he can catch up to you. “Are you on the hockey team?” You ask even though you already know the answer. Of course, he is. The jersey made you figure out as much. “Yeah,” he nods. “The captain himself,” Jake laughs, speeding up to get in front of you and get the roles switched. “But I guess the coach made a mistake if there is so much I still need to develop.” 

“I mean, you’re decent,” you smile. “Oh, thank you. I appreciate that, figure skater,” he teases you again, but this time, you don’t hear any annoying mockery in his voice. “And anyway, the coach doesn’t make mistakes. He must have had something in mind when he made you the captain, number four.” 

“You seem to know a thing or two about him, huh?” You shrug. For a moment, your focus fades away as you think about your dad. You could have known the team sooner. You could have hung out with them just like with any of the other guys your dad trained. Sure, back then, you were a kid, so it was mostly just them looking after you, but you loved it nonetheless. You would give anything to feel that again. 

Jake uses the lack of your attention, grabbing the bottom part of his hockey stick and pulling you with him. You snap out of your thoughts, holding on tighter so you wouldn’t fall, letting him drag you around the ice rink. 

You stumble forward when he pulls with his full strength and you let go of the stick to be ready for the fall but before you hit the ground, his arms catch you, spinning you around as if it was a part of a performance. You end up laughing again. Honestly, you lost count of the amount of times he had made you laugh. 

“Thank you,” you mumble when he stops again, sending him a grateful smile. “For everything.” Jake shakes his head, “I didn’t do anything.” — “You did everything,” you correct him. “I needed this. So, thank you for reminding me why I love skating again.” 

Jake’s bag swings over his shoulder as he walks out of the ice rink with you, your bag in his other hand, despite all your protests. He insisted on carrying it for you, saying something along the lines of wanting to be gentleman-like. So you let him. 

“What exactly are you actually, figure skater? If you don’t play ice hockey or figure skate either, then what do you do?” He wonders as you lock the door behind you. “Nothing and everything,” you proclaim. “I grew up on this ice. I watched every game the Tigers played for the past thirteen years,” you shrug as if it was completely normal. It was normal, though. For you, at least. 

“So, are you some sort of Mowgli of the ice?” Jake laughs, causing you to do the same. “I guess you could say that. Even though it were still people who raised me, sometimes I feel like the ice rink had a big part in it too.” He nods, humming in response.

Jake ends up walking you to your dorm that night. You never mention who your dad is, nor what your last name is, because you don’t think it’s important. You talk about everything else with him—from your major, through your childhood hobbies, to your friends. You tell him all about it, and he tells you all about everything that he can think of at the moment as well. 

“Then, I’ll see you around, figure skater?” He wonders as he hands you back your bag, running his fingers through his hair. “Maybe,” you smile. “I hope you learn to stop more smoothly until we meet again, number four.” He chuckles, nodding. “I’ll do my best,” he promises, awkwardly snapping his fingers as he points at you and swallows what he wants to say next. You raise your eyebrows, questioning what it is, but he shakes his head, not saying anything else. He sends you one last smile before turning around on his heel. “Good night, figure skater.” 

“Night,” you mumble softly, smiling when you open your dorm door. 

“You’re acting weird,” Manon comments, eyeing you from across the room. You look up from your notes in your lap, raising an eyebrow at her in confusion. “What do you mean?” 

“Your book is upside down,” Dani points out and your eyes immediately fall down again. You quickly turn the book around, embarrassed. “For the last few days, you’ve been completely out of it. Why?” 

“I just can’t focus,” you sigh, resting your head against the headboard of your bed tiredly. “Tests?” Manon asks, but you’re not sure, honestly. Ever since that night, since you’ve met Jake, you couldn’t get him out of your head. You couldn’t stop thinking about how the hockey team was doing this season, who was on the team, and if your dad was still just as strict with them as before. 

You just wanted to be a part of the life again. 

“Boys?” Daniela chimes in. You give her a look—almost a warning one, but it only creates a smirk on her face. “Bingo.” 

“What boys? What do I not know about?” Manon’s eyes widen, searching for answers in your eyes. “Nothing,” you shoot back. “There’s no one. I’m thinking about the Tigers.” 

“Those, Angel, are men as well,” she reminds you with a teasing grin. “Some fine ones, may I add.” You roll your eyes at her, but you don’t argue. You might have only met one of them so far but if his teammates looked anything like him, it was only another reason to meet the team. 

You needed to convince your dad soon, no matter what. 

“So, what about the Tigers?” Dani asks, the study notes on her desk long forgotten as she turns all her attention to you. “I’ve heard they are doing pretty well this season. Apparently some good first years joined this year.” You hum in response, thinking about it for a second. 

“I met their captain a few days ago, he was training when I got to the ice rink so we skated together,” you admit, watching their eyes widen in excitement. “It was nothing like that,” you roll your eyes at them even though a part of you knows it was like that. You can’t forget about the way he made you feel that day. “It just got me to miss them even more. You know, watching their trainings and stuff.” 

Their eyes soften and you shake your head when you notice the pity in their expressions. “Good thing Uni is keeping me busy anyway,” you joke, but the sadness in your voice is painfully obvious. Still, they don’t press you any more, understanding when it’s the time to just stay quiet.

It’d be silly to say Jake found his love at first sight. 

Still, he can’t seem to get you out of his head, and it’s getting to the point it disturbs his everyday life. 

“How about you stop thinking about getting your dick wet and focus, captain?” Jake’s roommate asks, dropping his notes in front of him. The black-haired boy snaps out of his thoughts, picking up the small notebook. “What’s this?” He frowns, opening the first page. “Ideas for our next game’s tactics. Discuss it with the coach if you like any of it.”

“And really, start paying attention. If you fail your exam just because of some stupid girl and we lose our captain, I’m going to beat you up.” Jake laughs, nodding. “I’ll pass, Jay. I’ve been studying,” he assures him, but the snort that leaves Sunghoon’s lips on the other side of the room makes Jay worry again. “What?” He raises his hands in the air in defence when he sees Jake glare at him. “I didn’t say anything.” 

“You didn’t need to,” Jake rolls his eyes. 

“Look, guys, you don’t get it. You should have seen her! She was so cocky! She thought she could skate better than me!” He exclaims, a smile appearing on his lips as he thinks about the girl he met two weeks ago. “Honestly, she might have been better,” he chuckles. “I just know I was supposed to meet her there.” 

“And here he goes again with the fate thing,” Sunghoon scoffs, turning around on his chair to focus on his new skating choreography instead. “If you two are fated as you say, why haven’t you met again, huh?” Jay shakes his head at him, sighing. “Just look over the game plans. I’m going to the library,” he waves his two roommates a quick bye, grabbing his bag from the floor and leaving the dorm. 

The room falls silent for a moment before Jake speaks up again. “What if I went to see her?” 

“Oh God,” Sunghoon groans. There was nothing good that could come out of this. No matter how he looks at it, Jake’s sudden obsession could only go left. Still, it didn’t stop him. Before Sunghoon could say anything else, try to explain why it wasn’t the best idea, Jake was already up on his toes, packing up his laptop and some books for his afternoon lesson. 

“It’ll be fine,” he proclaims when he sees his roommate’s face, chuckling at his worries. “I’ll just say a quick hi to her, maybe get her number, and then I’ll go. I have math anyway, remember?” Sunghoon sighs, shaking his head. He lets him go, though, deciding to leave it up to him to deal with whatever he is planning to start. 

Jake hesitates as he stands in front of the same door he last saw you at, debating what he wants to say. Just as he reaches his hand up to knock on the door, the wooden furniture flies open and he almost bumps into a blond that tries to leave the dorm. He quickly blinks a few times, asking her if she’s okay. 

“Yeah, no worries,” she brushes it off, her eyes wandering all over his face curiously. “I feel like I’ve seen you before.” 

“Ah,” he offers his hand for a handshake with a smile. “Jake Sim. I, uhm, am the captain of the hockey team.” She chuckles as she shakes his hand, connecting the dots. “Daniella Avanzini.” 

Jake awkwardly rubs the back of his neck as he looks at her, realizing that he really had no plan at all when he came here. She, however, just smiles at him, and as if she knew what was going on through his head, she informs him you’re not home at the moment. He nods, quickly apologizing as he turns on his heel to leave. 

“Wait,” she stops him, her grin somehow mischievous. “She mentioned you before, just so you know. If you want, she plans to go skate at ten tonight again. I need to study so I can’t go with her, maybe you could keep her company.” 

Without realizing what he is doing, Jake’s lips turn into a smile and he nods, saying his goodbye quickly and running to his lesson. 

It’s six when Jake arrives at the ice rink, cursing himself out for being late. Coach was going to kill him sooner or later. He does his best to change as fast as possible but when he steps on the ice, it’s already 6:12. 

“Sim, you’re late!” Coach yells at him from across the rink, only sparing him a mare look before turning his attention back to the boys in front of him, watching them closely. “Practice speed drills,” he proclaims, quickly entrusting for Jay to lead it as he walks towards the team captain. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” Jake apologizes without hesitation. “I got caught up in school work but I’ll make sure I’m on time from now on.” Coach scoffs, shaking his head slightly and patting his shoulder. “I get it kid, don’t worry about it.” Jake confusedly glances Jay’s way but he is too busy with his own thing to notice. Something feels wrong. He shouldn’t be this understanding. 

“You–You do?” 

Coach chuckles, nodding. “I have a kid myself, I know how hard it can be for you youngsters.” 

Jake’s brows furrow but he nods anyway. He isn’t sure why he is so calm about it but if Coach is in a happy mood, he doesn’t need to piss him off. “Right, thank you,” he mumbles, offering a small smile before putting on his helmet and joining the others. 

“Dude, how are you this late and still alive and breathing?” One of the guys, Huening, asks as he comes to a stop right before the captain. Jake simply shrugs, glancing back at the coach again. “Not sure, but not complaining either,” he says, patting Kai’s shoulder slightly as he looks around to see how everyone’s doing. 

“Okay, I need to warm up. Jay, you got it for a bit?” He calls at the older man, receiving a simple nod in return. “Okay! No more lazing around, let’s go!” Coach yells at the same time as Jake starts moving again, tilting his head slightly. This seemed more like the coach he knew so well. 

The training goes on; from passing, through rebound drills to a full practice game where Jake almost curses out one of his closest friends, Heeseung, after they collide together and both bump into the plexiglass, causing Jake’s vision to blur for a few seconds. And when they finish, they all skate to one side where Coach is already waiting for them, a pen and notebook in his hands. 

Jake groans, tiredly plopping down onto the ice and taking down his helmet, brushing his sweaty hair back so they won’t get in front of his eyes. The rest of the team follows shortly after, until it’s only the coach standing. 

“Okay, first off, you all did well today, and I’m sure you know what you each need to work on so I’m going to make it short,” he says before handing his notes of the practice to the captain so he can go through them with his teammates later. “I won’t be able to be here on Friday so please, practice just as if I was and focus on the things I pointed out,” he continues, signaling to the notebook Jake is holding. “And after you’re done, you’ll find videos from some games in my office, take it as your homework and study them before our next game.” 

They all chant in unison, assuring him they will. “Alright, any questions or suggestions from anyone?” Jake looks around. “Well, actually,” Huening clears his throat nervously. “I’ve been thinking– I mean, we’ve been thinking,” he directs to a few guys around him. “A lot of teams gain their popularity online and you know, we only have our instagram account that no one really visits anyway. Maybe…we could get a media girl or something?” 

“A media girl?” Coach questions. 

“Someone who would film videos for us, take pictures and take care of our media for us,” Taehyun explains simply. 

“More people would know about us that way which also means more people to cheer for us at games,” Heeseung joins in. “More pretty girls thirsting over us,” he adds with a laugh, high-fiving with Keeho beside him. 

The coach tilts his head, watching the boys in front of him as he thinks about it, eventually nodding. “Sure, if you can find someone who’s willing to, then why not,” he approves and the guys cheer quietly. 

Jake’s eyes widen as it hits him, immediately raising his head to join the conversation. “I think I know of someone.” Jay catches the small spark in his eyes and shakes his head, knowing damn well what he was thinking about. He wasn’t even surprised. 

“So, who are you thinking about?” Keeho asks as he takes off his gear in the locker room. Jake’s lips turn up into a smile just at the thought of you, and that’s enough for all the guys to corner him, questioning him about this someone on his mind. “What? Are you too scared one of them is going to flirt with her before you can?” Jay teases, shaking his head as he walks into the showers, a towel wrapped around his waist. 

“Oh? So your girl?” Heeseung wraps his hand around Jake’s shoulder but he escapes right after, grabbing his towel quickly to run to the shower instead. “Not my girl. Yet, at least,” he finally speaks up, disappearing before anyone can say anything else. 

Jake might not be the most responsible person on Earth or the most punctual, but when he knows a girl he can’t stop thinking about will be somewhere at ten, you can be sure he will be on time. 

Your eyes widen when you notice him sitting at one of the benches, a phone in his hands and his skates ready on his feet. Unlike the other day, this time he isn’t wearing his gear. He has a simple dark grey hoodie on with black pants, and you can’t help but smile. 

“You got lost, number four?” You ask as you slowly approach him. He looks up from his phone, grinning as he puts it aside. “My name is Jake, figure skater,” he reminds you while still keeping up. He watches you as you sit down next to him, putting on your skates. “And I am not a figure skater, Jake,” you say, unable to contract your smile as you glance at him again. 

“Guess I’ll have to think of a new nickname for you then.” 

“I guess you will,” you nod, standing up when you finish lacing your skates. “I’m not sure what you’re doing here but…first to be on the other side wins?” you suggest playfully, already stepping on the ice before he can even register your words. As soon as he does, he quickly tries to catch up to you, putting all his skills to use just to be faster than you. 

And he manages, even though it’s not the way he’d want. 

Just as he catches up to you, you step badly and the next thing he knows, you’re on the ice and he is turning around to get to you again as fast as he can. “Are you okay?” He asks, the worry in his voice painfully obvious. You take his hand when he offers, standing back up awkwardly. “I’m good.” 

He sighs in relief, shaking his head at you slightly. He ruffles your hair and you yell immediately, making him laugh. “Alright, bambi, I think I won. What’s my reward?” He teases, the nickname making you frown. “Bambi?” He only smirks, slowly skating away from you, not taking his eyes off you in the process. “Fine, what do you want?” You ask, your skates cutting through the ice once again as you follow him. 

“We need a media girl,” he admits without a second thought. “I said I would find one. And I want you.” His words send shivers down your spine. You bite your bottom lip, watching him nervously while thinking about it. But really, if Jake tells you he wants you, can you refuse? 

“The coach agreed to this?” You ask before giving him an answer. As much as you’d love to hold onto this excuse to be on the rink, you still don’t want to just go behind your dad’s back like this. “Yeah, he said I can handle it. He has a big thrust in me, you know,” he says proudly, making you chuckle. “I’m sure he does.” 

“We have practice on Friday. Come by, I’ll introduce you to the team and you can decide then. I’ll understand if they piss you so much you won’t want to work with them,” he jokes. 

“And what if you’ll be the one annoying me so much that I decide not to?” You grin and he rolls his eyes. You manage to do a full lap by then, still following him around the ice rink. 

“Also, I want two rewards,” he proclaims all of a sudden before stopping. You mimic his movement with a raised eyebrow. “And why exactly should you get two?” 

“Because I’m amazing?” Despite his lame act, a chuckle escapes your lips and he knows he’s already winning. “Egoist maybe, yeah,” you smirk, scanning his face with your eyes. “Okay, what is it? I warn you though, if it’s stupid, I’ll kick you to the balls.” 

“Not my kids!” He fake-gasps dramatically, putting his hands in front of his crotch to prove his point. You laugh again, shaking your head. He smiles when he sees you, and the moment you notice it, you feel like something shifts between you. You swallow a lump in your throat, prompting him to finally tell you what he wants. You know you will definitely think about that smile of his later, though. 

“Okay, jokes aside, I want your number,” he admits, your eyes widening. “Why?” He chuckles. “What do you mean ‘why’? I want to be able to talk to you. I mean, what if I decide to stay late for training and need a goalie?” 

“So that’s what I’m good for, huh?” 

“That and maybe…just in case I feel a bit lonely here all alone,” he whispers, skating away again before you can say anything. You take a deep breath, sorting out your thoughts before you follow him, taking a turn towards the exit while he takes another lap around. 

You grab his phone from the bench, showing it to him. “Come here and unlock it if you want it!” You don’t have to say more. Jake doesn’t show any signs of hesitation before rushing to you, barely stepping off the ice as he takes the phone away from you. You chuckle at how determined he is, writing down your number when he hands you the phone again. 

“Why exactly am I a bambi now?” You frown as you watch him add a contact name. “Smile,” he says instead of answering, positioning the phone right in front of his eyes to get a picture of you from his perspective. He isn’t much taller than you but you still look up, forming an awkward smile. You’re not sure why, but there is a smile on his lips when he lowers his phone again. A smile so adorable you want to savor it. 

“Bambi is a cute animal,” he proclaims suddenly, making you blink a few times. “And even though you scared the shit out of me for a moment when you fell down, you were kind of like a bambi.” 

“I’m not sure what that means or if I like it.” 

“I’m telling you you’re cute,” he clarifies and a blush creeps up your cheeks. “See?” He shows you the picture of you he just took and your cheeks just redden. You do look pretty cute in that. “Thanks,” you mumble, avoiding eye contact with him and trying to get past him on the ice again. He laughs quietly at that but still steps aside to let you go, putting his phone back down. As he turns around to join you again he stops for a second, simply admiring you as you spin around, doing a few tricks as you have the space now. 

A part of him wishes to watch you like this forever. 

“Did you know I’d be here?” You ask as you walk side by side with him outside, your hands in your hoodie pocket to keep them warm. “I did,” he admits. “I met Daniela earlier today when I stopped by your dorm and she told me you’d be here at ten.” Dani, I need to thank you for the rest of my life, you think, chuckling softly. “I see.” 

“She seems nice.” 

“She is,” you agree. “And so is Manon.” Jake smiles, fixing the strap of your bag as it falls off his shoulder. “Wait, shit, that means they’ll ask me about you,” you groan at the realization. Maybe you weren’t going to thank Dani for so long after all. Yes, you did enjoy your time with him but that didn’t mean you were ready for their questions when you got back. Honestly, a part of you wanted to keep it just between the two of you. A secret only you two knew about. 

“Oh, yeah? What are you going to tell them?” He teases, leaning slightly down to reach your ear. You roll your eyes at how cheeky he sounds, pushing him off again. “That you’re childish.” 

He chuckles. “And? What else?” 

“That you still can’t skate.” He fake-gasps. You bite your bottom lip, rethinking your words as you remember the moments you spent with him on the ice. “And, maybe, that I enjoyed tonight,” you mumble, so quietly he almost doesn’t hear you. 

“So you do like me!” He grins, clenching his fist in excitement as if he had just won a match against the strongest team in the league. You scoff, shaking your head at him. “You’re an idiot.” 

“Idiot you might consider going out with?” Jake asks, turning his head to face you, the hope in his eyes obvious. Your breath catches in your throat, the question loud and clear. Your eyes widen and you quickly glance at him to see if he’s being serious or just joking around. When you gaze into his eyes, you get your answer. 

“Maybe,” you mumble, averting your gaze again. “If you try hard enough.” 

And he does. He tries as hard as he can. Not only does he walk you to your door again, almost being dragged in by Manon when she sees him, but when he gets to his own dorm, he’s already texting you. It’s a stupid question, one that makes you raise your eyebrow, but it gets the job done, and you end up texting him for the rest of the night. 

You don’t think you’d be able to hide the smile he creates on your face even if you wanted to. 

Especially when he keeps sending you random pictures. Of his face, his roommates, of the notes he is studying at the moment, anything and everything. He’s cute, you have to give him that. 

Your Thursday lessons pass by in the blink of an eye and Friday rolls in faster than you’d expect. Jake provided you with the team practice schedule the day before and you were never this happy to know most of your lessons were in the morning and didn’t collide with any of their practice hours. 

You weren’t sure how you’d face your dad just yet, but that was a fight for your future self. Right now, the first thing on your list was to get out of your room as fast as possible so you can still make it to class on time. 

“You know, just saying like, you don’t need any makeup. So maybe, if you just ditched that, you won’t have to rush so much now,” Jake comments, watching you as you sit at your table, finishing up your hair. You glare at him. “I’m not letting you here again,” you warn him and he immediately raises his hands in surrender. “I got you coffee, come on!” You avert your gaze again so he wouldn’t see your smile. Because he did, and god damn. Who would have thought a man showing up at your door in the morning with a cup of coffee could be so fucking attractive? 

Manon and Dani left shortly after he came but they didn’t forget to mimic kissing together before they walked out of the door. You had to roll your eyes at them because even though Jake’s lips looked attractive, you weren’t just going to make out with him in your room when you were already running behind so much. 

“Okay, let’s go,” you proclaim, quickly collecting your books into a bag as you glance at him. He’s smiling when his eyes lock with yours, and it makes you melt just a bit more. “What?” you question, feeling slightly embarrassed with his eyes on you. “You’re pretty,” he says, standing up from your bed and handing you your cup of coffee. You blink a few times but before you can say anything, he is already out of the door. 

“Jake, you’re impossible,” you mumble, feeling your cheeks heat up. 

You catch up to him quickly, sipping on your drink as you walk side by side with him, sneaking glances at him until he calls you out on it. “You can just say you like my face and I’ll let you look at it all day but don’t be this secretive about it. You’re not good at it anyway,” he chuckles and you close your eyes in regret. You weren’t sure if letting Jake into your life was such a good idea after all. 

What even were you doing, honestly? Skating together at night, texting all day and at night where you should be long asleep, and now this. Why exactly did he just turn up at your door unannounced with your favorite coffee order as if it was normal? As if he’s been doing it for ages. 

But no matter how weird or rushed it might seem, it felt somehow right. You didn’t mind the attention he was giving you, and you definitely didn’t want him to stop. If anything, a part of you was just waiting for him to take a step forward. 

“I’m not looking at you,” you argue, averting your eyes. 

“Right, and I’m absolutely terrible at hockey,” he scoffs, shaking his head. “It’s fine, you can steal glances all you want. But just because it’s you.” 

You feel your heart skipping a beat at his words. He had his way of gently flirting with you and it was making you crazy. You knew he was interested in you, you’d be blind not to notice that, but you still didn’t know what to do with his compliments and flirting, how to react to them. 

When you got to class, you thought that was your moment, a free minute to think about everything and figure it out, figure Jake out, but you’ve barely settled down in the class when your phone buzzed, announcing a message from no one else but the lost puppy himself. 

Jake: one attachment You: what exactly am I looking at?  Jake: flowers You: yes, I see that You: but why? You: also don’t you have a lesson?  Jake: oh, no, I’m free for another hour so I’m just walking around campus Jake: saw these and thought of you

You stared at the messages, a blush spreading across your face. He couldn’t get any better. Everything he did, every little comment or action, made you feel important, seen. And honestly, you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep talking to him without pulling him into a kiss and claiming him yours. 

Because right now, there was nothing you wanted to do more. 

At five, you arrived at the ice rink, the loud chatter of the boys from the locker room reaching you right after you stepped inside. You chuckle at it, the familiar feeling making you at ease. You sit down at one of the benches, pulling out your phone and scrolling through your messages—a few emails from the school, a message from your girls, wishing you good luck, and also a text from your mom. You quickly open the text, smiling softly as your eyes land on a picture of your mom in a red dress, asking you if she looks good. You immediately tell her that she’s beautiful and ask her what she’s getting ready for. 

Just as you do, the guys’ voices grow louder and you look up, watching them step on the ice one after another. You immediately find Jake with your eyes, your smile widening as he waves at you, skating to the plexiglass in front of you. “Come here, I’ll introduce you.” 

You step on the ice in your sneakers, awkwardly smiling at the few boys staring at you. “Coach is out today, said he’s got something with his wife. He might seem a bit scary at first but he is nice, the biggest Tiger of us all,” he explains with a smile, his hair falling in front of his eyes. So that’s what mom is getting ready for, you realize. 

“Oh, wait, you probably know him already, right? Would be weird if you haven’t after, what, thirteen years, huh?” He laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, quietly cursing at himself to just shut up. You chuckle, sending him a reassuring smile, your heart making a little flip at the way he remembers your words. 

“Okay, well, these are the tigers. Boys, our new media girl,” your name sounds fancy on his lips, little too good, honestly. You scan the faces in front of you, a few familiar ones you remember from the hallways or parties. “If you need any help, feel free to text me,” a taller guy skates towards you, reaching his hand out. You grab it hesitantly, your eyes narrowing at the smug smirk on his face. 

“Back it off, Hee,” Jake warns him, almost pushing him out of the way, which only gets the older man to laugh. “No need to worry. I’m not stealing your girl,” Heeseung chuckles, turning his head towards Jay with a knowing grin. They exchange a few words but you don’t catch them anymore, not when Jake starts talking to you, mumbling a quiet sorry. 

“It’s fine,” you shake your head. “But…” a smile spreads across your lips as you gaze into his eyes, tilting your head slightly. “Your girl? How come I don’t know about that?” The worry in his eyes disappears, a hint of mischief replacing it. “They can probably just see the look in your eyes,” he proclaims, leaning in closer to reach your ear. “You’re basically undressing me with your gaze, Bambi.” 

You scoff, but before you can say anything, Jake is already skating away, leading their training and you have no other choice but to go back to the bench and think about it, about him. Were you doing that? Surely not… right? 

You watch Jake lead the practice and something in your shifts. As if he wasn’t already attractive enough, seeing him like this, helping everyone out and yelling at them what to do, he felt somehow hotter. 

Maybe you were actually undressing him with your eyes when you thought about it. 

And as if that wasn’t already enough on its own, every chance he got, he found a way over to you, asking you what you thought about them, if you were enjoying yourself, and also occasionally just saying a stupid joke that just came to mind. You laughed each time. Because no matter how stupid the joke might be, you weren’t thinking straight at the moment. 

“So, what do you think? Am I good?” He leans against the plexiglass, a smug smile on his lips. You shake your head with a chuckle, stepping closer to him. For a moment, you completely forgot about the other guys on the other side of the rink, only focusing on the golden retriever in front of you. “You’re not too bad.” 

“In that case,” he starts, quickly glancing around to make sure none of his teammates are standing behind him, ready to tease him to death the moment they hear him say the words out loud. “Can I finally take you out? Who wouldn’t want to date the greatest player on the hockey team?” 

You roll your eyes at his confidence but don’t refuse. Instead, you think. “Alright, Manon and Dani will be gone for the weekend but I said I’d stay at the dorm. If you want, you can come over and we can watch something.” 

He narrows his eyes, shaking his head. “No.” 

“No?” 

“I want a proper date with you. Not fuck you on the couch with a movie in the background just because you have an empty place,” he states, gazing into your eyes. Even though, if he was honest, he could still fuck you on the couch after the date if you wanted. 

Your breath hitches just so slightly as you look at him, averting your eyes. God damn it, Jake. He was better and better each second, and if he was in for the long game, so were you. “Fine, then pick me up,” you mumble, refusing to look at him again. But Jake doesn’t mind because he heard what he wanted, and he couldn’t be happier at the moment. 

You groan and close your eyes as you hear Jake turn around and yell “She said yes!” at his teammates, regretting your choice of date for a second. But when he glances at you again with his little boyish grin, you completely forget about it, telling him to get back to practice with a smile on your face. 

When the practice wraps up, your phone is full of pictures you took of the boys as they practice (most of them of Jake because every time he saw you pulling out your phone, he got into the shot), and it makes you smile again. Just being here with them makes you happy. Watching them bicker and tease each other, it was exactly what you were missing before. 

A few of the guys pat your shoulder as they leave, something about wishing you good luck but honestly, Jake is the only one you can focus on again. “Undressing me again, aren’t we?” He teases and you roll your eyes. “You’re on thin ice, boy. Might have to reconsider our date,” you warn him and he immediately raises his hands in surrender. 

“Okay, my mouth is shut,” he says, getting off the ice as well. He takes off his helmet, his lips turning up in a smile again as he watches you. “Wait for me? I’ll be quick.” You nod without a second thought, agreeing. 

It’s the third time he walks you back to your dorm from the ice rink. It might seem like a simple gesture, and really it is, but you still feel the warmth in your chest. You find yourself opening up to him more than night, sharing a few of your dreams and places you want to visit with him and he doesn’t miss out on the opportunity to offer you to go there with you. You brush him off but honestly, when you think about it, it doesn’t sound bad at all. 

“Darling, we haven’t seen you in so long. I miss you.” You smile gently as you listen to your mother’s voice, sipping on your morning coffee. At eleven. “I know, I’m sorry. But I have a break in a month, I’ll definitely come home then, I promise,” you say, a part of you feeling sorry that you haven’t been around for so long. Your mom sighs, putting her hand over the phone microphone as she shares the information with your dad. You catch a glimpse of his voice in the background but it’s not loud enough so you could make out words out of it. 

“And why not this weekend, Angel? I’ll make your favorite food.” You hesitate for a second, debating on if you should tell her or not. But in the end, honesty wins. After all, it’s your mother who you’re talking about. The same woman who held you in a tight hug after your first breakup, who told you stories about princes, saying she wishes you nothing less than a charming prince who would love you dearly. You knew she’d be happy to hear about it. Even if it means you won’t come home this weekend. 

“I’ve actually got a date later tonight,” you mumble and the soft gasp that leaves her lips makes you chuckle. “Oh my! Who is the lucky boy?” 

“He’s…” a smile spreads on your lips as you think back to the puppy-like-boy who’s been flirting with you since you first met him on the ice rink. “An engineering student. He…He’s nice to me, mom. And makes me smile a lot. I like him.” 

“That’s great,” she nods, approving quietly. “In that case, I hope you’ll have fun tonight. And, darling.” You narrow your eyes, catching the suspicious tone in her voice. She has something planned and whatever it is, it can’t be good. “If it works out, bring him with you next time. I’d like to see him.” And you were right. Even though you knew your mom would love Jake if she met him and that Jake would love your mom, thinking about bringing him to meet your parents when you haven’t even had one date yet wasn’t something you wanted to do. 

Still, you force a smile, almost as if she could see you through the phone. “Of course. I’ll see how it goes.” 

The conversation changes shortly after as she asks about Manon and Dani. You tell her about how they are doing in school, how you are holding up, and the conversation just flows naturally after that. 

At one point, she hands the phone to your dad and you repeat everything you just said, well, except for the fact you were going on a date. While your mom was always excited when you told her about boys you were interested in, you saw the way your dad’s jaw clenched just at a mention of a boy’s name. And while you loved being his little princess while you were little, you thought his overprotectiveness now was unnecessary. 

It’s around five when you hear the knock on the door. You get up from the chair you’ve been sitting in and open the door, your eyes falling on Jake immediately. He is wearing jeans and a simple white shirt with his denim jacket over it but god, he looks fine. 

“Why didn’t you call or text? I would have gotten ready first,” you mumble, stepping aside so he can walk inside. He just shakes his head, saying something about being able to be with you for longer like this. You sigh, closing the door behind him. “Alright then, how fancy do you want me?” He smiles, glancing back at you. “I want you comfortable,” he proclaims and this time it’s you shaking your head. Alright, fancy it is. 

Jake settles down on your bed, his eyes following you as you scan the clothes in your closet. Then, finally, your eyes land on a brown dress, one you know hugs your body well. You glance at him with a teasing smile before grabbing the piece and disappearing into the bathroom to get dressed. 

When you walk out again, Jake’s jaw is practically on the floor and he has to hold himself back as he leans against the wall, watching you from the comfort of your bed. “God,” he breathes out and you chuckle, whispering a quiet thank you as you sit down at the table beside him so you could do your makeup. “You’re beautiful, gorgeous.” 

A smile spreads across your lips without you being able to control it, looking at him through your mirror. “You already convinced me to go on a date with you, no need to try so much anymore.” He only shakes his head at your words, “I’m not trying for anything. I mean it. You look amazing, love.” The nickname sends a shiver down your spine but you don’t let it show, applying your makeup and trying to ignore the blush creeping up your cheeks. 

“Alright, let’s go,” you say, turning to face him. He smiles when you do, averting his eyes from you for the first time since you sat down as he gets up, offering you his hand immediately. You roll your eyes at how cheesy he is but hold his hand nonetheless, letting him lead you out of your dorm. 

“Where are we going?” You wonder, following him to his car. You walk slightly ahead of him, trying to open the car door but it’s locked. He chuckles, shaking his head as he reaches you, unlocking the car with a simple click of a button and then opening the door for you. “You think I’d let you open that on your own?” You blink a few times, sliding into the passenger seat without another word. You weren’t sure how you were going to survive the night if he had your heart racing so much already. 

The drive is calm, quiet, with jvke playing on the radio, only setting the mood for what’s to come. You softly hum to the songs as you look out the window, smiling. You weren’t even doing anything yet and it already felt nice. Just being with him, spending time together, was enough. 

When the car stops again and you try to open the door to step out, Jake sends you a warning glare, making you chuckle. Your hand falls back to your side while he walks around the car, opening the door for you and offering you his hand to help you step out. You shake your head at him, squeezing his hand tighter as he locks his car. “You really don’t have to do all that.” 

“Opening the door for you is the least I can do,” he assures you, the puppy eyes he gives you making your heart skip a beat. “Let’s go, everything is prepared already,” he says, taking you towards one of the buildings beside you. 

Your mouth falls open in awe as you step on the empty rooftop, your eyes landing on the blanket set in the middle with two baskets full of—how you assumed—food. You glance at him immediately, your eyes wide as you search for anything that might prove this isn’t real. Because honestly, how could it be? How lucky did you have to be to meet this man? 

“How did you–” 

“I have connections,” he shrugs, smirking when he sees your face. The innocent smile, with those wide eyes of yours was something he could look at forever. “I wasn’t sure what you would like but I thought dinner couldn’t go wrong, right?” He asks, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. You don’t answer him immediately. Instead, you move your hand to his forearm, squeezing it tightly as you stand on your tiptoes, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. 

Jake has to blink a few times to process what’s happening and before he can do anything, grab your waist, kiss you on the lips, smile, respond, anything, you’re already walking away, sitting down on the blanket he prepared earlier. 

He chuckles, shaking his head in awe as he comes to sit down beside you. You smile as you watch him, genuinely happy. “This is amazing, Jake. You couldn’t have made the first date better.” He smiles as well, opening the basket and taking out a bottle of wine. “I assure you it will be even better with this wine.” You laugh, taking out two glasses out of the basket and moving them towards him so he could pour the wine. 

The night went on with Jake feeding you all sorts of fruits he brought after you ate a dinner he ordered, drinking wine under the moonlight and watching the stars appear in the sky as you talked about all sorts of things. You’ve found a comfort rhythm together, making it feel easy to talk to him. And honestly, it felt almost like you were an old couple already, on your tenth date as least. It was a comfortable feeling. 

“Do you have any plans for the upcoming break?” You ask, taking a bite of a strawberry. “I was planning to go home, be with my parents and hang out with the guys. Riki has been bothering me about wanting to go out play basketball lately,” he laughs quietly at the thought, his smile turning into a teasing grin when his eyes land on yours again. “Why? Want to do something together?” 

You hesitate, rethinking if it was an appropriate topic of conversation when it was only your first date but the look in his eyes reassured you that whatever you want to say, he isn’t going to run away. “I might have mentioned you to my mom earlier today,” you admit and his eyes immediately light up. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “Said that you’re an annoying little puppy that has been following me around for weeks,” you stick out your tongue, making him laugh. “Yeah, and what else?” He teases, leaning back on his elbows. Your eyes shift to something more serious but the smile on your lips never leaves. “That I like you, and hope this works out.” 

“I like you too,” he says without a second of hesitation and you can feel your cheeks heating up. He said it as if it was easy, no big deal. “She told me to bring you with me,” you add, searching for any sign of discomfort in his eyes. He doesn’t budge a bit though, his smile only growing wider as he nods. “I’d like that, for sure. Riki and his basketball can wait.” 

“Are you sure? You should probably be with your family. And if Riki has been asking you for so long–” 

Your name leaves his lips, interrupting you. Your cheeks flush pink and you gaze into his eyes again, swallowing a lump in your throat. God, why does your name sound so good coming from his mouth? “I’d let Riki wait for the rest of my life if it means being able to spend more time with you.” 

“He probably wouldn’t like hearing that,” you say, trying to mask the fact your heart is practically about to jump out of your chest. Because Jake? He had a way with words. But not only that. In the end, it came down to him as a whole. The way his eyes wandered over your body, the way he always knew what to say and do, the way he put so much effort into your first date—yeah, you did want to bring him to meet your mom. Who cared that this was only your first date? You knew it wasn’t the last. 

“That’s fine. I only care about what you like hearing.” You roll your eyes at him playfully, finishing the rest of the wine you had in your glass before standing up, walking to the rooftop edge. You lean forward, looking down at the street beneath you, watching the cars drive through and people walk to their homes. 

Jake admires you for a second before getting up as well, walking over to you. He hesitates for a second but then hooks his arm around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder with a smile. You freeze for a moment, slowly turning your head towards him. “Jake,” you whisper, your breath landing right on his lips. “Yeah?” Your breath hitches as you gaze into his eyes, his close presence sending shivers down your spine. Not in a bad way, though. A far from it, actually. 

Your eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips and that’s all Jake needs before quickly spinning you around so your body would face him. He doesn’t wait for anything anymore and crashes his lips with yours, his hands coming to hold your head. His thumb brushes over your cheek as he pulls you closer to himself, kissing you as if you were the air he breathes. As if you were the only person in the world. 

And you kiss him back with just as much passion, one of your hands resting on his chest while the other holds onto his shirt, keeping him as close as possible. His right hand slowly moves down to explore the curves of your body, fingers digging into the skin on your waist in an almost possessive way. You moan under his touch, never pulling away, not even as his hand slides lower, wandering over your thigh before holding onto it, making you raise your leg and wrap it around him. 

“Fuck, wait,” Jake is the first to pull away, breathles as his fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh, still holding your leg around his waist. “Wait,” he repeats, resting his forehead against yours. He closes his eyes, a soft groan leaving his lips. Your eyes widen, and even though he told you to wait, you kiss him again, the little sound he left out driving you crazy. 

Your body fits perfectly with his and you melt into him, the movements so natural you forget this is the first time your lips met him for a moment. Jake pulls away again, stopping you before things can turn in the wrong direction. Because fuck. He felt that kiss in every part of his body. 

“What’s wrong?” You frown, slowly standing on both of your feet again. “Nothing!” He panics immediately, his eyes shooting up to meet yours. “No, this was– This was perfect, like I can’t even–” You chuckle as he stutters, trying to find the right words. His cheeks have turned pink, making him cuter than you’d admit. “I just,” he clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. “I don’t want our first date to go like that.” 

You raise an eyebrow at that before it finally clicks and you realize what he’s referring to. Your eyes soften, your lips turning into a smile. You can see it all in his eyes, the way he holds himself back, the way he eats your whole body with his eyes and yet, still only thinks about how to make your date perfect. 

“Alright, but what if I want to kiss you again?” 

“Then I’ll try really hard not to get hard.” 

You chuckle, the smile staying on your lips as you watch him. “Come here,” you say and he closes the space between you again. You place a soft kiss on his cheek, your hands resting on his shoulders. “Thank you. For trying so hard and making this the best first date I’ve been on.” You pull back again, scanning his features for a second. He looks proud of himself but also genuinely happy, his cheeks still slightly pink. You walk past him, getting back to the blanket while he stands still, thinking about everything that just happened. 

You glance over your shoulder at him, smiling. “Let’s go?” He nods, catching up to you and casually throwing his jacket over your shoulders as you crouch down to clean up. “Come on, I got it,” he says, squatting beside you and filling the baskets again with the food you haven’t finished. 

“You’re going to be cold,” you mumble as you stand up again and let him pick it all up. He only throws you a glance and you squeeze the jacket around your shoulder tighter, ignoring the way your heart tries to get out of your chest. 

Jake leaves everything in his car and walks you up to your dorm, lingering in the doorway. “If you want to come inside, I wouldn’t mind,” you offer, opening your door. He smiles as he looks you up and down, taking the sight of you into his head once more. “I’ll come inside another time. If we win our next game. I can promise you that,” he answers, and you roll your eyes at him, masking the fact that maybe you wouldn’t mind that. 

“You’ll have to dream about that.” 

“Oh, trust me, I will.” 

You smile, “Good night, Jake.” 

Jake smiles as well, a soft genuine smile you could find yourself falling for. “Good night, love.” 

On Monday afternoon, you spend a little too long in the bathroom and your roommates notice, watching you from the doorway with curious expressions. You sigh, turning to them. “I’m overthinking it,” you breathe out and Manon nods immediately. “What’s going on?” 

“This is the first time I’m going to see Jake since our date. I don’t know, I’m nervous!” You explain, groaning. Daniella only laughs at you, shaking her head. “So? You’ll watch him be all hot on the ice, take a few funny videos and then you can make out with him against the plexiglass. What’s the big deal?” 

You roll your eyes at her, pushing past them and stepping out of the bathroom. “How am I supposed to just be there and act all normal around him? What if his teammates know?” You quickly shoot them a glance, making the two girls laugh. “Oh they definitely know,” Manon assures you. “You think he wouldn’t brag about absolutely winning you over with that date?” 

“And even if he didn’t tell them, one look at you and they’ll all see you’re absolutely head over heels for him,” Dani adds, plopping down onto her bed. 

“Just kill me,” you whine, jumping onto your bed as well. 

But honestly, Jake should be the one you worry about the least. Because it wasn’t him who was going to be surprised to see you on the ice. 

Shortly after, a loud knock on the door echoes through the dorm and Manon goes to open it, stepping aside immediately when her eyes land on the hockey captain. You hear his chuckle when he comes closer to you and when you open your eyes to look at him, his hand is reached out towards you, helping you get up. “Let’s go. I can’t be late,” his voice is soft, causing a blush to creep up your cheeks as you gently hold onto his hand. He laces your fingers together, offering your roommates a quick hello with a smile before walking off with you by his side. 

You’re laughing when you enter the ice rink. Jake quickly disappears into the changing rooms but doesn’t forget to kiss you before he does, making you freeze in your place for a second as you watch him. Suddenly, you don’t feel so scared about how things were going to look like. Because with Jake, it felt easy. 

Except it wasn’t. 

Because as you enter the playground, your eyes fall to a person you completely forgot would be here today—your dad. Oh god. Okay. You take a deep breath as you walk towards him, preparing what you were going to say. He doesn’t notice you approaching as he focuses on his conversation with the goalie, Intak if you remember correctly. You clear your throat nervously, getting their attention. “Sorry to interrupt,” you start, watching as your dad’s eyes widen when he realizes you’re there. “I just wanted to say that I’m here.” 

Intak smiles at you immediately, greeting you warmly before skating off to warm up, assuring you their conversation already ended. You finally look your dad in the eyes, catching the mixture of emotions in them. Is he mad, glad to see you, or even disappointed? You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to find the right words to say. Then, his lips curl into a smile and he pulls you into a hug, making all your worries vanish. 

“What are you doing here, darling?” He asks as he takes a step back again. “Well, I know you said– I know you don’t want me here, for whatever reasons but…the guys asked me to be their media girl and I thought– it was a way to get back again,” you start blurting out words, unsure if they even make sense, avoiding eye contact as you wonder what he’s going to do. Kick you out, remind you you’re not supposed to be here? Whatever it is, you don’t want to hear it. 

But then he says what you least expected. “Angel, it’s fine,” he chuckles. “I know I…told you not to come here anymore but I’m glad you’re here.” 

“You are?” Your eyes lit up with a spark of hope. “How could I not be? You’re my daughter, I’m not going to say no to hanging out with you. And also, your mom has been all over me lately, telling me I’ve gone too far and should let you come here when the ice is free,” he sighs. 

“Why didn’t you want me here in the first place?” You wonder hesitantly, watching his smile fall, catching a spark of regret in his expression. “It was stupid,” he admits. “I’ve realized that right after I’ve done it. I just thought that now you’re all grown up you…” 

Before he can finish, another voice interrupts him and you feel a familiar arm hook around your waist. “Coach! I see you’re already getting to know our new addition to the team, this is–” 

“Hands off my daughter, Sim. Immediately,” your dad commands, his eyes darkening as he watches his captain pull you close so naturally. 

Jake’s eyes widen and he obeys right away, blinking a few times as he places the pieces together. “Your daughter?” He asks, trying to remain calm. But honestly, he was far from that. “You didn’t know?” He frowns, scanning the boy with his dark eyes. “Uhm, no, sir,” Jake answers, quickly glancing at you for some sort of explanation. You just swallow a lump in your throat, trying to figure out what even is the right thing to say at the moment. 

“Dad, stop. He did nothing wrong.” 

“This is exactly why I didn’t want you on my ice.” 

You frown, a part of you mad at your dad again. Because what did that even mean? That his reason behind forbidding you to skate was even stupider than he made it seem seconds ago? “What, Jake? The guys? You can’t be serious, right?” 

“I am serious. These guys are exactly what I’ve tried to keep you away. I know them, know what they are like. These players scream trouble.” 

You scoff, “ironic coming from a NHL player, don’t you think?” Unbelievable. You turn to face Jake, ready to assure him, tell him to ignore your dad, but before you can even as much reach for his hand, he steps away, his gaze fixated on his coach. “I’m sorry. I’m gonna…start the practice,” he excuses himself quickly, disappearing without a single glance in your direction. 

If you were mad before? You’re furious now. “Great. Really great, dad. Thanks for ruining all the good things in my life. As if taking skating from me for months wasn’t already enough.” Before he can say anything, argue or apologize, you’re already on your way out of the complex, ignoring his calls after you. 

You manage to bump into Heeseung on your way out, mumbling a quiet sorry as you try to move past him. He frowns, stopping you. “You okay?” He asks but you just brush him off, sparing him just one simple glance before he moves aside, letting you leave. When you step out, you realize it was so easy because there are tears in your eyes. 

You wipe them off with the back of your hand, cursing yourself out. You’re not sure why you’re crying, if it’s all the frustration building up in you, your hormones making fun of you, or because Jake, the boy who made you feel so good in the past few weeks, has just acted like he barely knew you. 

You hated the feeling. 

Heeseung quickly blurts out an apology as he steps on the ice, frowning when he sees no one is paying him any attention. He skates towards the others, raising an eyebrow confusedly at the way the coach’s eyes stay glued to Jake, following his every movement. “Jake!” He calls after him, bringing him back to reality. “What?” Jake blinks a few times, subconsciously glancing at the coach nervously before focusing on his friend. 

“What did you do? Why did I just see your girlfriend run out of here crying?” He questions and Jake’s eyes widen immediately. He doesn’t even care to correct Heeseung that you’re not his girlfriend as he asks a different question, “she was crying?” 

“Yeah, man. I don’t know what happened but she looked…sad, broken I’d say even.” Jake’s hand clenches into a fist, partly mad at himself for disappearing like that before and partly just…worried. Whatever it is that got you feeling like this, he hates it. And he hates himself even more, knowing he might be the reason. 

Jake is out of focus for the rest of the training, too lost to even notice the coach yelling at him for being on a completely different side than he should be. It’s all in a blur, the whole training, the way he crashes with Taehyun as they do speed drills (Jake’s fault, no doubt), and even the way some of the guys ask him why you’re not here and if you’ve already decided you don’t want to be their media girl. 

His head is fully occupied with the thought of you, the way you tried to reach for his hand before but he just stepped back, the way you looked at him when the coach said something about Jake not being good enough (he didn’t but that was how Jake interpreted it), and the way you had kissed him just a few days ago. 

So, naturally, when practice came to an end, he tried to get off the ice as soon as possible, needing to see you, talk to you, apologize, and kiss you again. 

But he had to freeze mid movement as the coach’s voice rang in his ears, calling after him. Jake made a spin, a soft sigh escaping his lips when he saw the look on his face. “Get changed and come see me in my office, Sim.” 

“Yes, sir,” Jake mumbles back, no questions needed. It was way too obvious what he wanted to talk about. 

“What did you do?” Keeho asks curiously, glancing at the captain as he takes his gear off. “Don’t even ask,” Jake groans, sitting down in his place. “Did you guys know she is his daughter?” He shoots them all a look, the hidden desperation to find out he wasn’t the only one out of the picture passing by unnoticed. “Who?” Kai frowns confusedly. 

“Guess. Maybe the only girl Jake ever flirted with?” Taehyun chuckles, making Jake roll his eyes. “She isn’t the only girl I ever flirted with,” he argues but Taehyun doesn’t care enough to argue back. He just shakes his head, gently patting his shoulder as he moves to the showers. 

“She’s the coach’s daughter?” Jay speaks up, getting Jake’s attention immediately as he nods fiercely. “Apparently! He almost killed me when I put my hand around her waist earlier!” 

“And what did you do?” Intak eyed him from across the room. “Left,” he answers, so quietly the guys around him almost don’t hear him. Heeseung, however, catches it, his eyes widening. “You what?! Is that why she was crying?” 

“I don’t know!” Jake groans, hiding his face in his hands. “And now coach wants to speak with me as well. I don’t want to speak to him! What if he kills me?” 

“Should have thought about that before you made moves,” Intak snickers, disappearing into the showers as well. 

Slowly, everyone gets into the showers so they can be back at their dorms sooner but Jake takes his sweet time, delaying the meeting for as long as possible. However, when Huening peeks back into the dressing room a few minutes after he’s left to inform Jake about the fact the coach looks impatient, he collects his things and finally makes his way out of the dressing room. 

“You wanted to see me?” Jake says awkwardly as he steps into the office, placing his bag on the floor near the door but not sitting in the empty chair in front of him. All of a sudden, it didn’t feel the same as when he came into the office after practice to discuss game tactics. “You can sit down, Jake,” he says, more calm this time. 

The hockey player nods hesitantly, taking a few steps forward and then sliding into the chair. He stares down at the table, thinking about what he was supposed to say, how he would explain himself. “So,” the man clears his throat and Jake finally looks up. “You’ve been…seeing my daughter?” 

“Uhm,” Jake hesitates but when he sees the look on his face, he realizes lying isn’t going to get him anywhere. “Yes, I’ve– We met here a few weeks ago when I stayed late after practice to train some more.” 

He hums in response, eyeing him up and down. Jake swallows a lump in his throat. “And I’d like to keep getting to know her if that’s okay with you.” The coach stays quiet for a while, his brows furrowed into the same thoughtful look he always had while watching a team’s gameplay and figuring out what they could do to stop them. It makes Jake nervous. 

“And you’re the guy my wife told me about before? The one she had a date with this weekend?” 

“That would be me,” he nods. 

“What did you do?” 

“We had dinner together, sir.” 

“And then?” 

“I…took her back to her dorm. Walk her to the door and then we parted ways.” 

“You didn’t come in?” 

“No, sir,” Jake answers, frowning slightly. “I was respectful the whole time,” he adds, leaving out the fact he almost got a boner after kissing you. That definitely wasn’t something he’d want to discuss with your father. 

He hums again, not saying anything else. 

“I want you to keep your distance,” he proclaims suddenly, making Jake’s eyes widen. “What?” 

“You heard me, didn’t you? You have games to focus on, tactics to go through and teammates that rely on you. You need to have a clear head with no distractions if you want to take it somewhere.” 

Jake wants to argue, say that you’re not a distraction, that he can easily play as well as he did until now and still be a good boyfriend to you, but when he sees the firm look on his coach’s face, one telling him that it’s already decided and he can’t do anything about it, he only squeezes his hand into a fist, gripping tightly onto his pants as if that could possibly ground him. 

“You can go now,” he says but it’s more like a command, telling him to get out of his sight. “I’ll see you on Wednesday, rest well.” 

“Right,” Jake mumbles, the sound coming out more grumpy than he’d intended for it to. He doesn’t care to apologize though, pushing the chair back and getting out of the office as soon as he can, almost forgetting to grab his bag on his way out.

Jake [19:52]: I’m sorry Jake [19:52]: for brushing you off like that before

You stare at his messages for a few seconds, squeezing the phone tight in your hands as if that could make them go away. Well, maybe if you squeeze hard enough they will. You sigh, turning it off. You’re not even sure what or who you’re mad at but the feeling sits on your shoulders, reading the messages with you and it makes you feel even worse. 

Manon looks at you from across the room, glancing at Daniella before they both walk over to you, sitting on your side each and pulling you into a hug. You chuckle softly but in reality, it comes out broken. “Men are idiots.” 

“Absolutely,” Manon agrees, her grip tightening just a little. You smile, allowing yourself to melt in their warm embrace. “Yeah but one of them is my dad and the other a boy I really want to keep in my life.” 

“And that’s fine, just–” before Dani can finish her sentence, probably say something about how there will be more men interested in you and that Jake doesn’t have to be the one you settle for, your phone lights up again with another message from him. 

Jake [19:55]: Your dad held me after practice, wanted to talk to me

You blink, ignoring Daniella’s frown and unlocking your phone immediately. 

you [19:55]: About?  Jake [19:55]: Us Jake [19:55]: He asked me about our date Jake [19:55]: What we did and then basically if we slept together you [19:56]: what did you tell him? Jake [19:56]: The truth Jake [19:56]: That I took you back home and left immediately after you [19:57]: hm  Jake [19:57]: I’m sorry, Bambi Jake [19:57]: I planned on running to you right after practice  you [19:59]: But you didn’t Jake [19:59]: your dad told me to stop seeing you 

Your heart drops when you read the last text, part of you mad at your father, the other just disappointed. Because if your dad telling him to stop was enough for him to actually do so, then maybe you were wrong about him all along. 

Jake [20:00]: he practically told me that if I want to play I have to 

“My dad is officially not an actual person,” you groan dramatically, showing the text messages to your two friends. Dani reads through them with a frown, judging every word silently. 

you [20:01]: Are you going to listen to him? Jake [20:01]: I don’t know 

You want to tell him that if he’s even thinking about it then you should put an end to whatever it is that’s between you two, you should tell him that but as you watch the three dots appear and disappear all over again, you decide you can’t. 

So instead, you change the topic of your discussion, acting as if nothing happened. You can sense that Jake is somewhat relieved when you do but it lingers in the air for the rest of the conversation. How could it not? 

You know Dani judges you when she sits at her bed again and focuses back on her work but you try to ignore it, focusing on Manon’s support as she encourages you to text him, and then eventually, when the clock hits eleven, forcing you to talk about the elephant in the room as well. 

You sigh but listen anyway, your fingers hesitantly moving across your phone keyboard. And so, you talk about it. About what your father said, how you feel about it, and how Jake wants to do the complete opposite of what his coach told him to. It makes you smile. 

you [23:26]: How about this you [23:26]: We can pretend to listen to him Jake [23:26]: I’m listening Jake [23:26]: Enlighten me princess you [23:27]: Shut up you [23:27]: Around him, I can pretend I’m mad at you you [23:27]: And we won’t talk you [23:27]: You’ll simply act like he asked you to you [23:28]: while in private… Jake [23:28]: We continue seeing each other you [23:28]: exactly Jake [23:28]: I can definitely work with that Jake [23:29]: it’s not like I want him around on our dates anyway Jake [23:29]: Even less if I’m coming in you like I promised 

You roll your eyes at him, ignoring the smile that spreads across your lips as you read his messages. Who cares what your father thinks. If Jake is supposed to scream trouble, you’ll gladly listen to it all. 

The following days pass by exactly how you planned. You stay as the team’s media girl, talking to your dad as if nothing ever happened and acting as if Jake didn’t exist. And then, in private, you make use of all the time you can get together. 

“Missed you,” Jake mumbles as his lips crash with yours, guiding you towards his bed. You smile into the kiss, your hand finding a few hair strands and tugging at them slightly. He groans, sending a shiver down your spine. “You were with me the whole evening,” you remind him, holding onto his collar as you sit down on his bed, bringing him down with you. “That’s different,” he argues, stealing another kiss from you. 

His hand grips onto your waist, keeping you as close as possible, his lips never leaving yours. “Well, if you want to be with me more, feel free to tell my dad,” you smirk, pushing him off slightly. He frowns, “don’t talk about my coach while being in my bed.” You giggle, a soft sound that makes Jake’s heart skip a beat. 

“Then talk about what you want to talk about,” you tease, moving back until your back hits the wall. He immediately moves to sit in front of you, his hands gently parting your legs so he can move between them, coming closer as he kisses you again with so much need it causes a moan to escape your lips. 

“Be my girlfriend,” he says between kisses, squeezing your tights firmly. Your eyes widen immediately but the surprise vanishes when you see his sincere eyes, waiting for your answer, his thumb gently stroking your skin. “That’s how you ask a girl you like?” You tease him, trying to ignore the butterflies forming in your stomach. 

“Please,” your name on his lips makes you weak every time but now that he has that look in his eyes—the one that makes you want to kiss him until neither of you is able to breathe—it makes it even harder for you not to jump him immediately. “Let me take care of you, cherish you, and make you smile every day as your boyfriend. Because as much as I love this, I want to be yours completely.” 

By the time he finishes his sentence, you’re already pulling him in for another kiss, your cheeks completely red and your heart beating faster than before. Because, god, Jake Sim was going to be the end of you. “Yeah, I’d like that,” you say and he immediately cups your face, pulling you even closer than before, his body fully on yours now. 

His hand moves down again, his fingers gently wandering under your shirt when the door swings open and you quickly push him off, turning your head to see who came in. “God, get your own room for this,” Jay groans, closing the door behind himself. Jake sighs, running a hand through his hair before glancing at you, giving you one of his boyish grins. Your breath hitches for just a second before you clear your throat, recollecting yourself. 

“I thought you would be out,” Jake shrugs, moving to sit beside you, casually hooking his arm around your shoulders. You smile at him and shake your head slightly. “It’s fine, I should go anyway. I still have stuff to learn.” He turns his head to you to argue but when he sees your soft, reassuring smile, he just nods. “Text me later?” 

“Of course,” you nod, leaning closer to place one last kiss on his lips before standing up. “Don’t kill Jay while I’m gone.” 

“I’ll try,” Jake promises with a laugh, watching you leave the dorm with a smile. 

“Sorry, man. I didn’t know you two would be here. Put a sock on the knob next time or something,” Jay sighs, throwing his bag onto his bed. Jake just shakes his head, brushing him off by saying it’s fine. “Sunghoon has practice later and I have a date so if you want, the room will be free then.” 

“You’ve heard the lady, she has work to do,” Jake chuckles. “But thanks, I’ll figure something out.” 

Jake must have been the luckiest person to ever live because what were the chances of having an empty dorm and a girlfriend who loves to make him go crazy? 

Jake [21:05]: Still studying? 

He waits for an answer for a few minutes, trying to focus on his own work but honestly, it’s impossible. He reaches for his phone to check his messages when it suddenly lights up, announcing that you answered. He doesn’t hesitate at all as he opens your conversation, his eyes widening when he sees the picture you’ve sent him. 

It’s simple; you lying in your bed, your hair a mess on your pillow with your lips slightly parted, your eyes piercing at him through the screen. He groans as he watches you, his eyes falling to your bare shoulders. You’re in a white tank top, the straps falling off your shoulders enough for him to picture how you’d look with nothing to cover your body. 

Before he can do anything about it, he remembers how you laid in his bed just mere hours ago, thinking about how it’d feel to have you here again. You, bend over this very desk he’s been sitting at for the past hours, when he finally gets to touch you in a way he dreamed of from the very first moment he laid his eyes on you. He can hear you moaning his name and groans, sliding his hand between his legs. 

 He palms himself at the thought of you, your pretty eyes looking at him as he slides his tongue between your folds, knowing you taste incredible. He closes his eyes shut, his brows furrowing as he thinks about you in his bed, screaming for him to slow down to loudly all the kids on this floor would know just how good he makes you feel. 

He thinks about you in every part of his dorm, the shower, where he helps you wash up just for his cock to find your hole again, at the entrance where you’re so impatient you can’t even wait to get to his bed before you wrap yourself around him, even on the floor, sucking him off under the table while he tries to focus on the new hockey tactics you helped him come up with before. 

He chases his high as he thinks about what kind of face you make when you come, his hand moving faster, with more force. Soft moans leave his lips as he reaches the edge, his cock twitching in his hand and your name falling off his tongue before he releases, imagining it’s your mouth wrapped around him, your lips that swallow his sperm. 

“Fuck,” he curses, his head falling back as he catches his breath, pushing all the dirty thoughts that still hang in his head aside as he looks at your photo again, typing his answer. 

Jake [21:17]: That’s my pretty girl you [21:17]: Took you a while to answer for someone whose I’m supposed to be Jake [21:17: had a problem I needed to take care of, sorry baby

Your cheeks flush red immediately when you read his message, your mind going blank. Daniella notices the shift in your behaviour but before she can say anything, you run away to the bathroom, locking the door behind you as you slide to the floor against the door, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. 

you [21:18]: Show? 

You bite the inside of your cheek as you wait for his response, the room getting hotter when you see a picture he sent you. You swallow hard, feeling your pussy clench around nothing but thin air as you stare at the picture of his hard cock in his hand, catching a glimpse of his cum. God. 

He’s big, bigger than you expected. You slide your pants down with ease, your fingers finding your clit immediately. You bite onto your bottom lip so you wouldn’t let out any sounds, keeping your eyes on his picture. 

Jake [21:20]: Feels good?

He sends the questions as he palms himself again, watching the three dots appear and disappear again. He smirks, knowing damn well what he’s doing to you. 

you [21:20]: yeah

You send him a quick picture of you sitting on the floor, two fingers deep in your hole while your thumb presses against your clit. Your face is out of the picture but you know he won’t mind that, not when he now has a better material to jerk off to. 

You keep your eyes on your phone, reading through his new messages as he praises you while also trying to guide you through it. It works. Too damn much, if you’re honest. You close your eyes as you feel your orgasm building up, the thought of his long fingers (that you fantasized so much about before) replacing yours sending you over the edge. 

You sigh, your breathing heavy as you text him again, trying to calm down. If you don’t find a time when no one will be at the dorm quickly, you’re sure to go crazy soon. 

The following Saturday you find yourself standing in the coaching box alongside your dad, watching your boyfriend and his team skate around the rink. It’s the second period already and Tigers are winning by three points but you can’t help but feel nervous every time they lose the puck. Maybe because it’s the first game you’re watching as a girlfriend of one of the players, or maybe because you know there are scouts watching the game and this could be a great opportunity for Jake (or any of his teammates). 

You yell excitedly, cheering them on as you see the number four pass by two defenders all alone, the nervousness building up in you as you watch Jake make it to the goal. “Come on, come on,” you mumble as he shoots, praying for the puck to make it in. “Yes!” The whole team yells at the same time as Jake scores another point for them. 

The buzzer announcing the period end rings in your ear and you watch Jake skate towards the bench as quickly as he can, wishing to do nothing more than to pull you into the warmest hug he can. However, before he can do anything stupid, his coach pulls him into a hug instead, patting Jake’s back while praising him about the goal he just made. 

Still, his eyes stay glued to you, his coach’s words passing unnoticed by him. You smile at him, jokingly rolling your eyes when you see your dad. Jake chuckles, taking a step back and finally looking at the coach. 

“Thanks, coach,” he laughs before his teammates pull him into another hug. Your dad walks back to you, smiling proudly. “He’s going to take it far. If he’s lucky the scouts are all already writing his name down.” You smile as well, glancing at Jake for a brief second before you mask your excitement again. “Yeah, he isn’t all bad,” you mumble, making sure not to pay him more attention than absolutely necessary. Because if Jake’s truly lucky, your dad won’t notice the way his eyes linger on you throughout the whole fifteen minute break. 

The third period passes in a blur, ending with the Tigers’ win eventually. You watch as Jake and Heeseung find each other when the game ends, laughing as they pull each other into a hug. Huening and Jay skate to them immediately after, the rest of the guys following as soon as they can, jumping from the bench and skating to them to celebrate. You smile, a proud genuine smile your dad hasn’t seen on your face in what feels like ages. At that moment, it was completely clear to him that forbidding you from stepping on the ice was a bad idea all along. Because this was where you belonged, in the stands, watching his team take home another win just like you always had. 

“God, you were so pretty standing there and cheering me on,” Jake mumbles against your lips as he kisses you again, his hands wandering under your shirt. Your back hits the wall as he cups your breast in his hand, moving to kiss your jaw. “Are you sure no one’s here?” You ask, tilting your head slightly to give him more space as he moves lower, placing wet kisses on your neck. 

“The guys are all long gone. I told them not to wait for me,” he says and you gasp as you feel his teeth on your skin. The game ended almost an hour ago, no one should be at the rink anymore. Yet, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that you could get caught any minute. Even though the changing rooms were more private than the game area, it still felt too exposed. You just want to take him back home with you but you know that isn’t possible, not when both of your roommates are there. 

With the way he sucks onto your neck he’ll definitely leave hickeys but you’re not in the right mind to care enough, so, instead of telling him to be careful not to leave any visible marks, your hand finds his hair and you keep him in place, a soft moan escaping your lips at the feeling. He smirks, rolling up your shirt to get a better view. “Remember my promise?” 

“That you’d come inside of me if you win the game? Very clearly,” you assure him, your breath hitching when his cold fingers wander over your bare skin. He smirks as he watches you, his hand moving to your back, holding onto your bra clips. “Can I take this off?” You nod, your eyes following his every movement. He’s hot with his hair still wet from his previous shower, standing in front of you in that annoyingly handsome tank top of his. 

He unclips your bra, letting it fall to the floor. He groans at the sight, feeling his cock twitch in his pants. But just as he leans down, cupping one of your breasts with his hand and kissing the other one, the door swings open and he is quick to fix your shirt so that whoever just walked in won’t see what’s meant for his eyes only. Probably a cleaning lady, he forgot about the possibility of one of them coming in. Still though, how unlucky did he have to be to be interrupted both times he was about to be intimate with you? 

He opens his eyes, ready to apologize to the lady for still being here but he stops when his eyes land on a male figure instead, the words catching in his throat. 

“What the hell is going on here?” Your father’s voice rings in your ears and you quickly stumble forward to collect your bra from the floor, hiding behind your boyfriend to put it back on. Jake clears his throat in the meantime, opening his mouth and closing it again because truly, he had no idea what the appropriate answer to that question was. 

“Sim?” His voice is stronger now, sending shivers down Jake’s spine. “We uhm– this isn’t–” he tries to figure something out but when he comes to the conclusion there’s no possible way out of this, he closes his mouth again. 

He calls out your name next and you squeeze your eyes shut as you take a step forward again, standing by Jake’s side. “We are going home. Now. And you, Sim,” he turns to him again, staring a hole in the middle of his eyes. “We will talk about this later. I thought you had a good shot at making it somewhere but you– don’t expect to play on my team again.” 

“What?!” You and Jake shout at the same time. You immediately look at him, your eyes full of regret while his just show…fear, vulnerability. You hate seeing that. “You can’t be serious!” you yell, looking at your father again. “You can’t– He is your best player! You’ve seen him play today! You hugged him and called him son!” you remind him but your dad just scoffs. “I’m not talking to you about this. Take your things and get to the car. End of discussion.” 

“No, you–” you try to argue again but Jake stops you, holding your hand in his and making you look at him. “It’s fine, darling,” he assures you, giving you one of his smiles, except this time it not only feels but also looks forced. You open your mouth again but he leans down and presses his lips on yours, squeezing your hand tightly so you’d know he is there. “I don’t regret you in the tiniest bit,” he says gently, slowly letting you go. The pain in his eyes makes it feel like your heart is being ripped out of your chest and there is nothing you can do about it. You hate the feeling. 

“Go,” he nods, mouthing the words “text you” as he places his hand on your lower back and guides you forward until you finally move on your own, stopping only once you reach your dad. “Fuck you,” you look him straight in the eyes with not a single care in the world before walking past him to get outside. 

Jake exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair. “I love her,” he proclaims confidently, catching his coach off guard. Your dad stands at the door, still trying to make sense of what just happened and if you really cussed him out. He focuses on Jake again, his glare never falling. “And honestly, I don’t care if you won’t let me play because of it. But we both know Heeseung won’t perform that well without his duo and it’ll only be a matter of time before the team falls.” 

“Are you threatening me?” He raises an eyebrow in disbelief. 

“No. That’s your hobby lately, don’t you think?” Jake doesn’t say anything else, taking all his things along with your jacket that you left just lying on one of the benches and making his way past the coach. He stops again in the doorway, hesitating for a second. “I won’t stop seeing her.” 

“Right,” the coach mumbles but all the confidence he had while yelling at the two before is gone, replaced with uncertainty and fear. “Good luck with the rest of the season,” Jake adds, the genuinity in his voice only pissing off the coach more. 

The door closes again and just like that, he’s standing there alone. He needs to blink a few times to gain control again because everything about this conversation was only proving him of the fact he had no control anymore. His little girl was growing up faster than he could comprehend, and his team was slipping through his fingers just as fast. He knew what Jake was like and that he had a great potential to continue with hockey and honestly, he wasn’t sure if he was protecting his daughter’s future on Jake’s. 

“Darling,” he breathes out as he slides into the driver’s seat. You don’t turn to look at your dad though, focusing solely on the game on your phone. He sighs, running a hand through his hair before fastening his seatbelt. “I’m just looking out for you. You have the whole life ahead of you, so many opportunities and goals to still achieve.” 

You scoff, ending the game and switching to instagram to scroll through new posts, not paying him the slightest bit of attention. Your childhood nickname falls from his lips and you squeeze your phone tighter, holding onto the last bit of strength you had. He sighs again, starting the car and driving off the parking lot. 

You sit in silence, still on your phone and texting Jake to even notice the road you’re taking, ignoring the way you catch your dad’s eyes in the rearview mirror every now and then. 

you [14:26]: The worst card ride ever Jake [14:26]: it’ll be fine love  Jake [14:26]: you just need to make it back to the dorm and then we can go out Jake [14:26]: I’ll take you out on dinner, hm? Jake [14:26]: what do you say? you [14:27]: I say that I’d absolutely love that Jake [14:27]: okay good <3  Jake [14:27]: I need to give you back your jacket anyway

It’s only then that you notice the missing piece of clothes, smiling as you read his messages. No matter how mad you were seconds ago, he managed to calm you down in the single minute you talked with him. And that was something you weren’t giving up on, no matter how much your dad wanted you to. 

you [14:28]: Shouldn’t it be me stealing your clothes sir? Jake [14:28]: Just say a word and all my hoodies are yours Jake [14:28]: I’d actually kill to see you in my clothes Jake [14:28]: Please

You giggle, stretching your legs slightly. Your dad looks at you immediately, the grip he has on the steering wheel tightening as he notices Jake’s name on your screen, a mix of emotions rushing through him. He wants to be happy for you, cheer you on in your relationship if he had you smiling like this, but he just can’t push aside the thoughts of what the future holds. You being with Jake could make him give up his career for you or it could make you give up on your dreams in order to support him just like your mom did, and he would hate for that to happen. 

you [14:29]: That could be arranged  you [14:29]: If we happen to go back to your dorm after dinner and casually decide to sleep over I’ll need to wear something Jake [14:29]: I’m telling the guys to find a different place to sleep at tonight Jake [14:29]: Can’t let them see that

The smile on your lips never leaves, not even when you finally look up from your phone and see the unfamiliar road, frowning. “Where are you taking me?” 

“Home,” he answers simply and it takes you a second he isn’t talking about your dorm. “What? I have plans, I don’t have time to drive home and back.” 

“You should have thought about that before I saw you half naked with my player,” he says through gritted teeth, more judging than he intended. He’s not sure why he says it in the first place. He really wants to reconcile with you, forget about the whole thing and act like nothing happened but for some reason, every time he opens his mouth, the wrong words come out. 

“I’m an adult!” you remind him, looking at the time on your phone. “You can’t be fucking serious.” 

“Language!” You huff, taking a deep breath as you finally turn your head to face him fully. “The fact you’re mad at me doesn’t mean you’ll be speaking to me like that.” 

You don’t say anything back, writing Jake a quick text explaining the situation before turning your phone off and placing it down in your lap, crossing your arms as you watch the road ahead. If he wanted to kidnap you then so be it. It’s not like you would sit around saying nothing forever. 

“Honey, how come you’re so late?” Your mother’s voice makes you look up as you step out of the car, her eyes lighting up immediately the moment she sees you. You smile, greeting her warmly and walking over to her. “What are you doing here? I need to cook something for dinner! You’re staying, right?” She asks, hopeful and excited. You chuckle, nodding. “I didn’t plan on visiting this weekend but dad kidnapped me so I had no choice,” you shoot him a look but he ignores it, taking his things from the car and coming to greet his wife with a kiss. 

“Kidnapped her?” She asks confusedly but he just brushes it off, saying that you’re talking nonsense. You scoff, moving past both of your parents inside the house. It’s been around a month since you last came by, with school and Jake keeping you busy, there wasn’t a chance for it before. And even though you didn’t want to be here, you would be lying if you said you don’t like being home. 

You pull out your phone again, glancing back to make sure your parents are still outside before you start a video call. You don’t even have a chance to fix your hair or make sure you look good when the call goes through, Jake’s face lighting up your screen immediately. You smile, a soft “hi” leaving your lips. “You ran away or something?” He asks after a greeting. 

Rolling your eyes, you glance behind yourself again before walking towards your room. “No, I successfully made it home. Want to see my room?” You ask but before he can even answer you enter the room, giving him a quick tour when he says he needs to see every corner, mentioning something about how a childhood bedroom creates a character and he needs to see everything. He’s a bit weird but honestly, you couldn’t find him more attractive. 

You sit down on your bed, resting your head against the headboard, watching him talk about how the guys jumped at him the moment he stepped into his room, congratulating him on his play. The excitement in his eyes as he talks about hockey makes your heart melt, until you remember your dad’s words. Don’t expect to play on my team again. 

Hockey was his whole life, the thing he was the most excited about, something he spent every free minute thinking about, you couldn’t be the reason why it was taken from him. You’d rather never step on the ice again yourself if it meant he could still play. 

“Heeseung said that he spoke to one of the scouts after the game, apparently they are thinking about me!” He grins and you can’t help but smile. “That’s amazing, Jake. I knew you could do it from the moment I first saw you.” He gives you a look but the smile never leaves his lips. “You told me I’m terrible and need to fix everything.” 

You shrug, laughing. “Yeah, that was me telling you I think you’re amazing.” 

“So you were in love with me back then,” he teases, making you roll your eyes again. You open your mouth to answer but a soft knock on the door interrupts you. You give Jake a quick look so he stays quiet and watch the door open, your mom walking in with her usual gentle smile. 

“Is that the boyfriend of yours?” She asks, immediately noticing the cause of your smile. You nod, biting the inside of your cheek. She walks over to you, sitting down on the edge of your bed. “Can I?” You don’t hesitate before moving closer to her, holding the phone so Jake could see both of you. He immediately greets her, the boyish grin on his face making you roll your eyes. “Jake, was it?” she questions and he introduces himself fully, saying that he’d offer her a hand as well had it been a different situation. It’s lame but she laughs nonetheless. “Well, we can shake hands when you come to visit next week. My daughter told you about it, right?” 

“She did,” he nods. “And I’d love to come, if I’m welcome to, I mean.” 

“Dear, of course! I wouldn’t have invited you if you weren’t.” 

“Dad isn’t a big fan,” you mumble, causing Jake to chuckle and your mom turn to you. “He met him before I could?” There’s a hint of betrayal in her voice but you already know that once she knows the full story it will be replaced with something else—disappointment. Not towards you, but your father. 

“Jake is on his team, the captain.” 

“Was,” Jake corrects and you roll your eyes again. “I was on the team, but Coach kicked me out today.” 

Your mother’s brows furrow, already sensing something iffy about it. “Why would he do that?” 

“Ask him, I’d love to know the reason as well,” you say, getting more and more annoyed as you speak. You sigh, running a hand through your hair to calm yourself. “Let’s not talk about it now, though. And for your information,” you turn towards Jake again, a shy smile spread across your face. “I’d love to have you here.” 

“Then I’ll definitely come,” he assures both of you, watching as your mom’s smile grows wider. She sits there with you for a bit longer, asking Jake about all sorts of things and watching you interact together, somehow feeling proud. She always wished you the best in life, and from what she saw in the short moments, Jake was exactly that. 

She goes to leave the room but stops again as her hand grabs the doorknob, glancing back at you one last time. “I’m not sure what you and your dad did to each other but I don’t want to stir the pot even more so, honey, try to cover that hickey of yours so he doesn’t have a reason to freak out,” she winks at you before disappearing from the room. 

Your cheeks grow red from embarrassment as you lean closer to your phone, looking at the hickey Jake has left on your neck in your front camera. He laughs on the other side of the phone, saying that it looks great but you only send him a pointed look. You groan, “I’m going to strangle you, Jake Sim.” It’s a threat, but he smiles. “With your thighs I hope.” 

You close your eyes, exhaling tiredly but Jake notices your lips twitch as you try to hold back your smile. He knows he’s got you exactly where he wants. 

You spend another thirty minutes on the call with him before finally stumbling out of your room as the smell of chicken hits your nose. Your dad tells you to sit that as he plates everything so you do, playing with your sleeve awkwardly. 

The food is set on the table soon after and your parents both sit opposite you, your mom asking you about exams and friends casually while your dad eats in silence, humming sometimes as a form of response. 

You stare at your plate for a few seconds before deciding to look up, catching your dad’s eyes at the same time. He sighs, visibly exhausted. You’re not sure if it’s because of the continuous arguing with you or just today’s game, though. “You didn’t mean it, did you? That you’re not going to let him play anymore.” 

Something flickers in his eyes, a moment of hesitance, regret maybe, you don’t know. He doesn’t answer, just putting another piece of meat into his mouth. You don’t just let it go like he seems to want, though. “He is your best player and you know it. You can’t kick him out just because he is dating your daughter instead of being fucking happy for me.” 

That seems to work because he winces, finally looking at you, really looking at you. “Darling,” your mom coos softly, tilting her head slightly, almost as if to tell you to calm down. You shake your head, refusing to drop the conversation. “I’ll…I won’t go on the ice ever again like you wanted, I won’t be near when you have practices and I’ll stop coming to games just please.” The plea sends a shiver down his spine, making him drop his fork on the table. 

“I don’t want you to give up on skating for him.” 

“So you’d rather make him give up on his whole future for me? Because we both know he doesn’t plan on leaving. If he did, he wouldn’t have talked to me again after you told him to stop seeing me the first time. And honestly, I don’t want to leave either.” 

“You did what?” Your mother turns her attention to your dad immediately, slapping him across his shoulder. “That poor boy does nothing but make our daughter happy and you told him to stop seeing her?” You knew that if someone was going to have your back it’d be your mom but you didn’t expect her to be so into it. She didn’t know Jake. There was no reason for her to get all worked up and start a whole argument with him. 

But, you weren’t going to stop her. 

You watch your parents argue for a while, your mom telling your dad he’s unreasonable and should finally realize you’re an adult while he tells her something about thinking about the future of the both of you, which only makes things worse. They start arguing about how their situation used to be similar and he doesn’t want you to go through the same thing your mom did but you disappear then, figuring that’s not a conversation you should be a part of. 

Later that night, a knock on the door makes you look up from your phone. You expect it to be your mom, after all, it’s always been her who talked to you after they had arguments when you were little, wanting you to know it was all okay and you didn’t need to worry about anything, but when the door opens, it’s your dad you see standing there. You sit up, nodding for him to come in. He sighs, closing the door behind himself as he pulls out a chair from your table, placing it right in front of your bed and taking a seat. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. You frown, not saying anything as you watch him, waiting for him to say more, explain himself. “I know it’s stupid and unreasonable,” he repeats your mother’s words, his brows furrowing in a way that tells you he doesn’t completely agree with it. “You know I love you, right?” He finally looks up to meet your eyes and you nod, a part of you feeling bad when you see the look on his face. The regret you thought you saw before is now way more visible, accompanied with a sign of simple care. “And I love the boys on my team, all of them. I think…Jake is a great kid, darling.” 

His words catch you off guard but you still stay quiet, knowing that’s not all he wants to say. “When me and your mom met we were around the same age as you, did you know that?” He doesn’t give you enough time to answer before he continues. “She wanted to be a doctor, she had her whole life figured out while the only thing I knew was that all I wanted to do was skate and be with her.” You smile, the thought of your parents at your age warming your heart. You can see yourself and Jake in their place. You can see Jake loving you all the years later just like your father loves your mom. 

“Then I got an offer, a contract with a team I really wanted to join. It was on the other side of the country and your mom…she dropped everything without thinking about it so she could go with me. I know she doesn’t regret it now, and neither do I, but knowing she gave up her future plan for me ate me alive for years.” 

“I never wanted to see you go through the same, so I did what I thought was the best at the time; told you not to skate so you couldn’t meet any hockey players that could mess with your future. I know it’s stupid, that it’s up to you what you do with your life I just…I simply didn’t want hockey to be the reason for another girl I love to lose something she’s passionate about.” 

You stand up from your bed, regretting all the bad words you said about your dad in the past few days. He watches you walk over to him, waiting for you to say something, anything, but you just pull him into a hug. “I love you too, dad,” you mumble. “And I’m sorry for cussing you out before.” He chuckles softly as he pulls back, shaking his head. “I deserved it.” 

“I’m not going to force Jake to leave my team, by the way. I’d be incredibly stupid to let that sort of talent escape.” You grin proudly, thanking him. “And…if it’s something you both want then,” he clears his throat, visibly stalling as he thinks it over. “Then I’d like to see him come with you next time,” he nods slightly, almost as if he was approving of his own words. “But just, please, promise me you won’t make your whole life about hockey, his games and plans. Promise me that if you stay together, you’ll figure something out while you both do what you love, even if it means being away from each other for a while.” 

You nod, it’s the least you can do. “We will,” you agree. 

Not having to hide a whole hockey player from your dad feels great. You still have to stay professional while filming the guys and limit Jake’s neediness while being around your dad but that’s understandable. And Jake knows that as well, still, he loves pushing the limits. 

“So, you’re going to be at our game tomorrow, right?” Jake asks, his hands resting on each side of you on the bench, trapping you in. He hovers over you, and even though you want nothing more than to pull him into a make out session when he gives you that boyish grin of his again, the presence of your father next to you reminds you to think straight. 

“Yeah,” you nod slightly, unable to take your eyes off him. He smirks, quickly glancing at his coach before leaning closer to you, stopping just below your ear. “And then you’ll let me go for as many rounds as I score.” He says it like it’s a deal you agreed to before but when he backs up again, there’s a question in his eyes, mixing with a sign of hope and mischief. “You better score a lot then,” you smirk, pressing your hand on his chest and pushing him off gently. “Go practice.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he does a little prince bow, winking at you once more before putting on his helmet and skating away, joining the others. 

“Is Jake going to drive you afterwards or should I wait and take both of you?” Your dad asks, keeping his eyes on the boys while sitting down beside you now that Jake’s gone. “Jake will drive. I agreed to go grab some food with the team after the game so we’ll drive on our own.” He nods, glancing at you again. “And he’ll be staying the whole week?” 

“The whole week,” you agree, causing a sigh to leave your dad’s lips. “In your room?” You roll your eyes, “yes, in my room. And in my bed, you’re not expecting me to make him sleep on the floor or something, are you?” 

“No,” he answers through gritted teeth, making sure you know he isn’t exactly happy with the arrangements. “Just don’t…no, nevermind, I’m not talking about this,” he shakes his head aggressively. “I’ll talk to Jake instead.” Your eyes widen, realization hitting you. “Don’t talk about sex with my boyfriend!” you smack his arm. 

“I need to talk to him as a worried coach to make sure my player doesn’t get a girl pregnant in his prime year,” he shoots you a pointed look and you sigh. The following week was going to test your strength and love for your father a lot. 

8:00 am lights up your phone before you knock on Jake’s door, watching as it swings open immediately. Jake doesn’t hesitate before grabbing your hand and pulling you against him, your bodies colliding together. “What’s going on?” you ask, blinking a few times. “Why was I supposed to come?” 

“The guys are out, they went for breakfast as Jay’s pregame ritual,” he explains, still holding your hand as he takes you towards his bed. “I’d like to start a pregame tradition with you as well,” he explains, his eyes glinting with need. “Oh?” Your lips curl into a smirk as you sit on the bed. “And what might that be?” 

Jake kneels down in front of you on the floor, gently pushing your legs open, keeping his hands on your inner thighs as he looks up at you. And god damn is he the hottest person you’ve ever seen. “Can I eat you out?” You blink, feeling hotter just at the thought of that. You bite your bottom lip, slowly nodding. His smile grows wider, his eyes lighting up as if he was a little kid whose parents allowed him to eat ice cream before dinner. 

He stays on the floor, sliding off your jeans, groaning quietly as his eyes land on your panties. “God, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this,” he sounds desperate and your body responds immediately. He runs his fingers over your clothed cunt and the whine that leaves his lips makes a shiver run down your spine. If this was his reaction to barely seeing you, how loud on earth was he going to be during the whole deal? 

It takes no time for him to slide your panties down to your ankles, moving his head closer to you immediately, keeping his eyes on yours as he licks a long strap from your hole to your clit. “Fuck,” you moan quietly, grinding your hips against his face. He smirks, his grip on your thighs tightening as he holds you in place, firm enough so you can’t move on your own. “Relax, baby. I’m going to take my sweet time with your little pussy.” 

And he does. He absolutely fucking does, to the point it drives you crazy. Your legs shake and you squirm under him as he lazily sucks on your clit. It’s torture but god, he’s also the greatest pussy eater you’ve met, definitely the most eager one from everyone you’ve been with. His whines and groans fill your ear and the only thing you can focus on is how he sounds against your wet cunt. “I’m gonna–” your breath hitches and he sucks harder. “Wait just a bit longer, baby.” 

Jake’s hand slides to his pants, pulling out his throbbing cock and slowly palming himself while he brings you closer to your orgasm, his free hand still digging into the flesh of your thigh. “Need you to hold it in, love. Want to cum together,” he groans, his tongue flicking between your folds. “God, your pussy is so good.” 

You whine, your eyes closed as your hand finds his head, pushing him closer against your clit, needing the release. You feel him smirk, letting his cock free for a minute as he holds you with both hands again, opening your legs wider. “Jake!” 

“Fuck,” he whines again, pulling away from you completely which only causes you to whimper. “Say it again.” 

“What?” You shoot your eyes to him again, shaking your head as you try to bring him closer again. You fail. “Say my name again, say it over and over again and I’ll let you cum, okay?” You nod, his name leaving your lips in a broken whine. “That’s my girl,” he smirks before dipping in again. You gasp at his harsh suck but you definitely don’t complain. “Jake, Jak–Jake–mhm.” 

“Yes, baby, it’s me. I’m making you feel all good, aren’t I?” You nod fiercely, throwing your head back as you tug on his hair lightly. He whines again, finally bringing you to your climax with one last lick. Your legs tremble around his head but he doesn’t seem to mind at all, giving you a few more licks so you can ride it out before coming up to you, stealing a kiss from you immediately. “You taste fucking amazing, you feel that?” 

The taste of your own cum on his lips feels weird but you never pull away from him, only deepening the kiss. You glance down quickly, finding his hand palming over his length again as he kisses you, trying to reach his own climax. You wrap your hand around his and he smirks against your lips. “Want to help with that?” 

Your mouth is wrapped around his tip quickly, looking up at him as you move your head for some sort of reassurance. Which is exactly what you get as he cups your face, moaning loudly at the sight of you. He could watch you forever, especially when you’re stuffed with his cock. 

“God, baby, have I told you you’re absolutely gorgeous?” He groans again and you only suck harder instead of responding. He starts blabbing things after that, soft praises leaving his lips as if it was the only thing he knew how to do. You stop paying attention to them in the middle of it but your body still responds, your pussy getting wet again. 

You pull back slightly just to tease him but Jake doesn’t seem to like it much as he thrusts back into your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat. You gag but don’t pull back again, relaxing your mouth completely and letting him gently thrust into you on his own. He doesn’t care, closing his eyes and gently brushing his thumb on your cheek just to feel himself. 

He comes down your throat slowly after and you gag again, pulling back completely before swallowing. He praises you again and again, kissing you as if you are the air he breathes. Because to him, you are. Your bodies wrap together as your kisses turn gentler, more loving. 

You just lay in the bed for a while, leaving wet kisses all over each other’s bodies, leaving marks behind before Jake’s alarm rings and he takes you to the bathroom, helping you clean up in the shower. When both of you are done washing he throws a jersey over your head, making you glance down confusedly. You had your own team clothes to wear with the team logo and everything but before you could protest your eyes land on the number on the jersey, realizing it’s his. 

“You want me to wear this?” 

“I want everyone at the rink to know my gorgeous, talented, lovely and smart girlfriend already belongs to someone,” he whispers, capturing your lips in another kiss. You smile, nodding slightly. In that case, you were going to wear his jersey for the rest of your life.

As soon as the game ends Jake runs into your arms, picking you up and spinning around before pushing his lips against yours. You giggle, wrapping your hands around his neck and pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. 

Tigers won 5-2, three of those points scored by Jake because as you later found out, he told Heeseung about your little deal and so he helped him get as many goals as possible. You don’t even care, for all you care he could have scored zero and you’d still let him have whatever he wants. 

Your dad clears his throat behind you and Jake gently places you back to the ground, grinning happily. “How was that?” 

“Amazing,” Taehyun pats his back from behind, the other guys slowly joining in. “As the MVP today you’re buying, right?” Heeseung wiggles his eyebrows as he wraps his arm around Jake’s shoulder, making him scoff. “I only buy food for my lover and myself, I don’t think you fit in either of those categories,” Jake shakes him off quickly. You shake your head at the interaction, the smile on your face never leaving as you congratulate them all. 

Jake wraps his hand around your waist, keeping you close as he talks to his team about the game. You don’t mind at all. You wrap your arm around him as well, smiling back at his friends when they give you a teasing, knowing look. This time, your dad seems to have the same smile on his face, looking at Jake more proudly than as if it was a warning. 

“Okay, go change quickly so we can go,” you say, placing a quick peck on his cheek to which Heeseung laughs with a whistle, taking your boyfriend from you. Jake mumbles something under his breath but you don’t pay it any attention, watching him leave with a smile. 

“The jersey suits you,” your dad speaks all of a sudden, making you turn to him. “Yeah?” You bite your lip nervously, looking down. “Thank you. For accepting him,” you smile, looking at him again. He rolls his eyes, almost as if that wasn’t exactly true, yet. “He still needs to work for it. I’ll have my eye on him during the whole week.” You chuckle, nodding. “Have fun with that.” 

It’s four pm when you finally part ways with the rest of the guys, your fingers laced with Jake’s as you walk towards his car, sliding into the passenger seat after he opens the door for you. He settles in the driver’s position, looking around. “Did you have fun?” He wonders, his voice soft, soothing. You smile, reaching for his hand again as you assure him it was great. 

“But next time, let’s eat alone, just the two of us, yeah?” 

You agree, squeezing his hand in his. “I’d love that.” 

“Good,” Jake smiles, leaning in and capturing your lips with his. “How about dinner tomorrow?” He asks between kisses, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. You hum against his lips, agreeing. Your fingers tangle in his hair, keeping him close as you deepen the kiss, enjoying the alone time with him. You were definitely going to make use of all the time you have during this break, with no roommates standing in your way and no exams watching over your back. 

You stay in the parking lot for a few more minutes, sharing kisses and light touches with soft giggles that make you fall for him just a bit more. “I like you so much,” you mumble and Jake’s grip on your waist tightens. “Yeah?” He teases, a smirk forming on his lips. You roll your eyes at his reaction, kissing him again. “I like you a lot too,” he says and even though you’ve heard him say it many times before, it warms your heart in a way that makes you feel like he just said the other L-word for the first time. 

“Let’s go,” Jake leans back in his seat, finally starting the car and driving off. His right hand rests on your thigh soon after, his eyes focused on the road. You smile, stealing glances at your boyfriend as he drives you home. You could definitely get used to this. 

Jake grabs your bags from the truck of his car while you open the front door of your house, greeting your parents before running out again to help him. However, when you reach him, asking him to give you one of the bags so he doesn’t carry it all on his own, he just brushes you off, saying he’s got it. You know he does, that he could easily pick you up as well but you still want to help. 

“Love, just go inside and watch me with your pretty eyes, yeah? I’m not gonna have you carry some bags when there’s no reason for you to.” 

You roll your eyes but still listen, walking in empty-handed with your boyfriend right behind you. “Dear, go help the poor boy,” your mum nudges your father immediately when her eyes land on Jake. He however shakes his head, still refusing any help. Your dad scoffs but there’s a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Which room is yours?” You point towards a door and he nods, leaving you in the hallway alone. 

“He’s more handsome in person,” your mom teases immediately, making you roll your eyes with a smile and your dad grumble something. “Please, just let him breathe. Both of you.” You mom giggles, taking your dad with herself back to the kitchen so they can resume cooking and you quickly run to your room. 

Jake is sitting on your bed and looking around the room when you come inside. His eyes immediately flicker to you and he opens his arms with a smile, telling you to come closer. You step between his legs, letting him wrap his arms around your waist and rest his head on your stomach. 

The two of you settle in your bed, laptop opened on Jake’s lap as you watch a movie, cuddling together. The moment is sweet, relaxing, something he’s been craving after the intense game earlier. When your mom comes into the room to tell you dinner is almost ready, Jake immediately jumps out, offering his help. 

You watch him joke around with your mom as he moves around the kitchen, helping her finish up. He starts a conversation about today’s game with your dad as well, listening to all his feedback. It makes your heart ache. It’s like he belongs there, in the small space of the kitchen, in your family, in your life. You experienced relationships and grew to realize they weren’t easy, they were hard, with obstacles on every corner but with Jake, it was the opposite. You thought it would be hard, and it was for a while at first but now, it just seemed like this was how things were supposed to be. 

“How many points did you score today?” Your mom asks curiously, setting down a plate in front of Jake. He smirks, glancing at you for a brief moment before answering. “Three. But I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t score anything if it wasn’t for your daughter cheering me on the whole time.” Your mom smiles proudly and you blush, kicking his feet under the table. He chuckles, his hand finding a way to your thigh and giving it a tight squeeze. You stay quiet after that. 

The conversation flows naturally as you continue eating. Your mom talks about memories from your childhood, family vacations, how you first started skating, and even some of your more embarrassing stories you’d rather forget. Your cheeks flush red and it takes everything in you not to shut down the conversation immediately. However, when the familiar sounds of Jake’s quiet laugh rings in your ears and you notice the happiness on his face, you stop yourself. The embarrassment you felt slowly turns into something softer, more gentle. 

Jake eases into the rhythm of your family quickly, assuring your father of his good intentions every time he feels the warry in his eyes, joking around with your mother as she sets the picture of little you into his head. He bets you were the cutest kid. 

He offers to help with cleaning the dishes but your mom refuses, telling him to go spend more time with you, which he happily agrees to. You roll your eyes when you hear their conversation but lead Jake back to your room nonetheless. 

“Your mom loves me,” Jake grins proudly, closing the door shut behind you. You smile, shaking your head. “Don’t let it get into your pretty head, captain. That doesn’t mean you’re not being watched by my father all the time,” you close the space between you, your voice teasing. When you look up at him, he’s smirking. “Call me that again,” something flickers in his eyes as his hands find your hips, pressing your body against his. 

“Captain?” you raise an eyebrow at his request but the tease in your voice never falls. “Is that what turns you on?” you whisper, pressing onto him more until his back reaches the door. “Maybe,” he leans closer, claiming your lips with his as his hands wander to your lower back, taking in every inch of your body as he moves lower, giving your ass a tight squeeze before lifting you up as if you weigh nothing. 

You wrap your legs around his hips, your fingers tangling in his hair as you deepen the kiss, a soft moan escaping your lips. “God, you’re absolutely beautiful.” A shiver runs down your spine as he says your name. “Tell me what you want, baby. What you want me to do.” No words leave your mouth as you press your lips on his again, pressing your hips on his harder as a form of answer. He smirks again, walking over to your bed where he drops you. You gasp but can’t help and laugh as he comes closer, spreading your legs and settling between them. 

“Words, love. I want words from you.” You moan again as he presses himself against you, feeling his bulge through the layers of clothing you’re both wearing. “Anything, everything–” you gasp when he rolls his hips against yours in a slow, teasing motion. “You promised three rounds, Captain.” 

Jake grins, watching your lips part as his hands wander over your body again. Gentle touch on your shoulder, his fingers brushing over the skin of your arms, his hands coming under your shoulder to trace over your stomach and breast. Your breath shakes as you watch him, your eyes following his every movement. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long,” he mumbles, kissing you hungrily, the kiss able to convey all his feelings. “Dreamed of you like this.” His right hand moves lower, stopping between your legs and pressing it over your core. 

“Jake,” you gasp as his lips move lower, leaving wet kisses and marks over your jaw and neck. He hums against your skin, pulling off your pants with ease. “Yes, baby?” He asks as he slides your panties to the side, his fingers flicking between your folds. “What do you need, tell me.” 

You grind your hips against him on an instinct, a soft whimper of his name leaving your lips. “Need you, need– fuck,” you whine, looking up at him. “Come here, closer. Need you closer.” He smirks, leaning down and holding your chin with his left hand, making you look at him. “That’s it, baby. Use your words,” he kisses you again, his tongue fighting with yours as he rips your panties away, making you yelp. 

You barely register him pulling his pants off as he cups your breast in his hands, massaging them as he waits for your every reaction. His mind is clouded with thoughts of you, what he’s going to do, what kind of pleasure he would bring you. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. He needs to hold himself back not to cum untouched just from the way you look at him. 

“In, Jake, please,” you beg and something in him flickers. He moans, the sound sending a shiver through your whole body, and pushes your legs up, making you hold them. His eyes focus on your cunt, aligning his cock with your entrance. “God, you’re so fucking wet, darling. I can just slide into you–” he pushes his tip in, making you gasp, “with ease.”  

Your nails dig into his shoulders, your mouth wide open, the only sounds leaving your lips being a few broken gasps, barely audible once. Yet, they are loud enough for Jake. He leans closer, placing a few open-mouthed kisses on your collarbone. “So good,” he moans against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. “It’s like you were made for me entirely,” he praises, his kisses lowering to your breast. He lets out a silent grunt as your nails dig deeper but he never backs away. 

“I–” I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you. The words are loud and clear in his head, the urge to say them out loud for the whole world to hear so strong he has to bite down his tongue not to do so. But, god, does he want nothing more. “I need you so bad,” he says in the end instead, listening to your quiet moans as he thrusts into you, quickening his pace. 

Your eyes roll back, one of your hands squeezing the sheets beneath you while the other finds Jake’s, lacing your fingers together. Your bodies move against each other, the room getting hotter each second as you get closer to your climax. “So good,” he praises you again, his teeth digging into the soft skin of your shoulder. “Jake, I’m gonna–” You don’t even get to finish your sentence as he thrusts harder into you, making you gasp. It only takes a few more quick hip movements before your breath shakes and you reach your orgasm. 

Jake pulls out right after, cursing under his breath as he palms himself over your stomach, finding his release as well. “Mhm–more,” you beg, holding onto his wrist. He goes crazy over your words, flipping you onto your stomach with ease. “You want more?” he asks with a smirk, pressing his body against your back as he leans to your ear. “You better have a condom on hand then because I do not want to be pulling out again.” 

Your whole body trembles as you point towards a drawer beside your bed, watching his hand reach for it. It takes a few seconds but the same hand rests on your back soon, tracing his fingers across your spine, making you arch your back. He chuckles when you raise your ass, your breast pressing against your mattress. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mumbles, giving your ass a tight squeeze once again before he feel him enter you from behind again. 

You lose track of time, how long it takes for Jake to bring you to your climax again, how much time passes before he goes down on you, encouraging you on your third release of that night, you don’t remember how many times you truly come on his tongue either, everything getting blurry in your head, the only thing you can focus on being Jake’s moans and whines. It’s music to your ears, just as much as your moans are to his based on what he tells you. 

I love you. Jake fights the words back again as he rests on top of you, gazing into your eyes as if you were the only thing he could see. Because to him, you were. “You did so well,” he says, cupping your cheek and brushing a few sweaty strands of your hair off your face. “You weren’t so bad yourself, Captain,” you smile back, pressing your lips on yours in a soft, gentle kiss. 

“Let me help you wash up?” You nod and he immediately stands up, ready to get to work. 

The rest of the week goes on like a dream. Jake takes you out every day, on dates, night strolls, buying you flowers or sweets the moment he sets his eyes on a shop for even a mere second. You certainly can’t say you’d mind. And somehow, in the mix of the days you spend with him, you notice a shift in your parents behaviour, mostly your dad’s. His intense stares, the ones supposed to dig a hole in the middle of Jake’s forehead, slowly turn softer, watching him with much more appreciation you’d dare to say. 

“You need to come back soon, dear,” your mother says, making you roll your eyes as she eagerly holds Jake’s hands. “Shouldn’t you be saying that to your own daughter?” You question, watching as your boyfriend leaves out a soft laugh. “I’d love to visit soon again, I’m sure we can arrange something,” he agrees and she finally lets go of his hands. You replace his spot, hugging her goodbye with a promise of finding time to visit. 

“Sir,” Jake smiles as he steps in front of your father. They stay silent for a moment, watching each other before they both laugh, your dad pulling him into a hug, as if he was the son he called him before he became your boyfriend again. “I’d like to say you surprised me but I always knew you would be good to her.” 

“Did not seem like it before,” you comment, watching their exchange. Your dad sends you a look but doesn’t say anything. “Just…continue treating her right,” your dad turns his attention back to Jake, “otherwise, your death can still be arranged.” Your mom slaps his shoulder but Jake only laughs, nodding. “I promise to treat her like a princess,” he assures him, mocking a prince’s bow to prove his point. You shake your head at him, locking his arm with yours. “Let’s go.” 

He listens well, that’s something you’ve learnt over the past few days. Your bag swings over his shoulder as he laces his fingers with you, saying one last goodbye to your mom before leaving the house, taking you to his car. 

And as if the dream was to never end, the attention he pays to you, the care he holds for you, never disappears, only growing each day. He keeps to his promise and with every longing look from across the rink, every touch of his when you find yourselves back in your room, and every word he says to you, you find yourself falling for him more and more. 

“Oh but that’s not all,” he laughs, forming a grimace similar to disgust. “As if the whole conversation with Jay wasn’t weird enough on its own, I walk into the bathroom and boom, a lady hiding in there,” he says, skating ahead. You chuckle, following him with ease and listening to his stories. “I ran off immediately and called Sunghoon not to come back to the dorm anytime soon. Something Jay should have done for sure.” 

“But there’s a good thing that comes from it,” he turns around to face you, one of his boyish grins on again. “It gave me a reason not to be in my dorm studying, and also an excuse to see you.” You shake your head slightly, quickening your movements slightly to reach him. He offers you his hand immediately and you hold it without hesitation, letting him pull you closer. “I missed you.” 

“We’ve seen each other earlier today,” you remind him. 

“Not the same. Far from it.” 

You smile, not saying anything for a while as you simply let him guide you around the rink, your eyes locked with his. It’s quiet and yet, it feels like everything about the moment is loud and clear, letting the emotions you’ve been feeling for a while come out. 

“I love you,” you whisper. 

Jake’s eyes widen and he stops in his tracks, making you bump into him. “Say it again,” he begs, his eyes flickering from yours to your lips. “Please.” 

You smile, cupping his cheek. “I love you, Jake.” 

“God,” he breaths out, his arms wrapping around your waist as he picks you off the ground and spins around. “You just made me the happiest man on earth, you know that?” You laugh, telling him to put you back down. The moment he does, his lips find yours in a tender kiss, telling you everything you need to know. He pulls back and smiles, pressing his forehead on yours, “I love you.” 

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[societyfolklore]

Not Ready Yet

Title: Not Ready Yet Pairing: Steve Roger x Female Reader

Summary: Steve Rogers has been nothing but the perfect gentleman- sweet, attentive, patient. He’s made you feel special from the moment you met, like something rare and cherished. So when he finally invites you over for dinner after two months of slow-burning romance, you think you know what’s coming. You don’t…

Word Count: 6.1K

Warnings:  / Explicit Content /18+, Minors DNI, Dom!Steve, Vaginal Fisting, Gentleman-to-Deviant Vibe (Soft Dom-to-Darker Shift), Size Kink & Super Soldier Strength, Manipulation (Soft-Edged, Coaxing Control), Dubious Consent, Pleasure-Drunk, Praise Kink, Your Naive but Steve is Calculated, Internal Conflict (Bliss-to-Dread Arc), Overstimulation, Pain & Stretching (Mixed with Pleasure), Aftercare Used to Maintain Power, alcohol Mention (Wine During Dinner)

A/N: my entry for  @avengers-assemble-bingo  for April Kinky Bingo... this one was something else.. Square: A2- Fisting Card Number: KB003

You had never felt so cherished in your life.

Steve Rogers was everything they said he was, and more. Gallant. Polite. A little shy, even. The kind of man who bought fresh flowers from the Saturday market just because he thought of you when he passed them. Who walked you home every time you went out together. Who kissed you on the cheek that first night, even when you'd leaned in hopeful, wanting, to meet his lips.

It had taken three dates for him to finally kiss you properly. But when he had? You'd felt it in your bones. Like your body had been waiting for it, your skin leaning in before your mind could even catch up. That first real kiss had been soft, reverent, almost hesitant and yet it lingered in your memory like something carved into marble.

You’d been seeing him for a little over two months now. Slow and steady. Holding hands, forehead kisses, flirty looks. And then tonight- tonight, he invited you to his place for dinner.

The idea that something might happen tonight left a flutter of nerves dancing in your belly. You weren’t sure what to expect, but everything about Steve made you feel safe. Respected. Treasured. If anyone was going to be your first in this new relationship, you were glad it would be him.

When you arrived, he greeted you at the door with a soft smile and a warm kiss. The table was already set. The apartment smelled amazing- garlic, herbs, something comforting and homey wafting in from the kitchen. The lighting was low, the music quiet and jazzy in the background. You felt wrapped in a cocoon of calm.

He’d made grilled salmon, roasted vegetables, and some kind of lemony couscous that was surprisingly addictive. Not too heavy. Just right. He poured you wine, told stories that made you laugh, reached across the table to touch your hand or tuck your hair behind your ear. Every move was effortless. Intimate.

By the time the plates were cleared and you were curled up beside him on the couch, your chest was warm with wine and quiet wanting. Every part of the evening had been like something out of a dream- his arm curled around your shoulders, your cheek resting on his chest, the subtle way his fingers traced lazy circles on your arm. The soft jazz playing from his record player gave the moment a haze of golden nostalgia. You felt drunk- but not from the wine. From him. From the weight of his presence and the way it wrapped around you like something you could sink into and never climb back out of.

The kisses started sweet- just lips brushing lips. Then longer, deeper. The kind of kisses that made your heart race and your thighs clench. His hand slid to your hip, your thigh, the small of your back, always steady, always sure. His body was so much bigger than yours, all heat and strength and solidity, and yet he touched you like he thought you might break. Like he was holding something rare and delicate.

You expected him to guide you gently to the bedroom, maybe with a soft smile and an outstretched hand. Maybe he’d whisper something tender, lace your fingers together, and lead you into the next chapter of this perfect, storybook evening.

But when he picked you up? When he rose from the couch with you in his arms like you weighed nothing, like he’d been waiting for the moment to show you just how strong he really was?

Your heart all but stopped.

You clutched at his shoulders, eyes wide, breath caught in your throat. His body was everything you imagined and more- solid, warm, impossibly strong. Your fingers curled instinctively over the thick muscle of his shoulders, feeling the effortless strength in the way he held you. His chest was broad and firm beneath your cheek, rising and falling in a steady rhythm, like nothing in the world could shake him.

But he didn’t falter. Didn’t tease. His movements were purposeful, sure- like your body was meant to be in his arms, like it belonged there. He held you with the same reverence he gave you when he looked at you across candlelit tables and brought you fresh flowers- only now there was heat threaded through it. A quiet intensity.

You could feel the flex of his biceps with every shift of his arms, the stability in his grasp as his large hands supported you with perfect ease. The sheer size of him around you made you feel small, delicate- utterly encompassed. His warmth bled into you, wrapping around your spine, your ribs, your heart.

As he carried you through the apartment, you found yourself clutching tighter, unsure if you were afraid of falling or simply overwhelmed by the feeling of being so completely handled. The hallway lights cast a golden glow over his profile, and the sound of your own heartbeat filled your ears.

He carried you like you were something fragile. Like something he owned. Like something he was finally claiming.

"You okay?" he murmured, glancing down at you as he pushed open the bedroom door, voice low and warm against your skin, and something in his tone made your spine tingle.

You nodded, heart fluttering like a bird in a cage. "Yeah."

His smile was small but warm, but there was a flicker in his eyes- like a spark catching light. "Good. Been wanting this for a long time."

The bed was already turned down. Soft lighting spilled in from the hallway as he set you gently atop the sheets and knelt between your legs. His big hands slid up your thighs, slow and reverent. Then he leaned over you, covering your mouth with his again, coaxing another kiss that deepened into something hot and breath-stealing. You sighed into it, fingers tangling in the front of his shirt.

He didn’t rush. Every kiss was deliberate. His mouth moved over yours, then to your jaw, then your neck, trailing heat and want everywhere it touched. You arched into him without thinking, thighs parting as his body hovered above you.

His hands explored slowly, like he had all the time in the world. Over your shoulders, your arms, your breasts- pausing there, cupping them with reverence and a barely-there squeeze that made your nipples tighten under your bra. You gasped into his mouth, and he smiled against your lips like he’d been waiting for that sound.

With slow, practiced ease, he began to undress you. You let him. Let him peel your clothes away like unwrapping something precious. And when your shaking fingers reached up to unbutton his shirt, he didn’t stop you. He watched, eyes dark and fixed on your face, as you tugged each button loose one by one, revealing more golden skin and hard muscle than your starry mind could handle.

You ran your palms over his chest, tracing every ridge and curve. He let you explore, let you marvel, even leaned into your touch like it thrilled him just as much.

By the time he had you down to nothing, he didn’t go straight for where you ached. Instead, he kissed along your ribs, your belly, your hips. He inhaled softly at your inner thigh, fingers trailing just shy of where you needed them.

"You’re already getting there," he murmured, voice like velvet and heat. "Want you soaked for me before I even touch you there. Wanna feel you melt around my fingers."

Then he kissed you again, and when he pulled back, there was something new in his eyes.

Intent.

His voice stayed low, almost reverent, like this moment meant as much to him as it did to you. He slicked his fingers slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving your face. You could feel the weight of his attention, how focused he was. Not just on your body, but on your reactions. Watching the rise and fall of your chest, the way your thighs parted, the flush creeping across your skin.

"Been thinking about this," he admitted softly. "About how you'd feel... how warm you'd be."

He smiled, just the barest hint of it, like he was already savoring the moment before it began. "Finally get to feel you, sweetheart."

Your breath hitched.

Oh.

You swallowed. Nodded. Your thighs shifted, welcoming.

Steve slicked his fingers slowly, watching you the whole time.

"We’ll take this nice and slow…" he said, settling between your knees. "We’ve got all night."

Then his fingers found you- slow at first, not pushing in, just toying with your entrance. The pad of his finger circled there, teasing, tracing the slick heat of you while he watched your face for every flicker of response. Your body fluttered around him, clenching reflexively at the mere suggestion of penetration. He murmured something low and pleased under his breath as your hole twitched, pulsing at the gentle pressure. He could feel how badly your body wanted to be filled, even if he was taking his time giving it to you.

The first one slid in easy, and you gasped at the sudden intrusion. Warm. Thick. He moved it gently, curling just enough to make your hips twitch. His thumb rested against your mound, still and grounding, until it started to move.

A slow, deliberate brush over your clit. Featherlight at first. A single circle that made your breath hitch. Another, firmer, that drew a moan from your throat before you could stop it.

"There she is," Steve looked at you smiling, like he’d just discovered a secret. "You’re already so soft for me."

He didn’t rush.

His finger stroked in and out while his thumb teased gentle circles, the rhythm enough to make your legs tremble. Then he started to curve that finger upward on every slow stroke, dragging it along the top wall until it hit something inside you that made your whole body jolt.

Your moan spilled out loud and helpless, your hands flying to your own skin- gripping your thighs, sliding up your belly, unsure where to hold onto the heat that bloomed between your legs. Every time he curled his finger into that soft, spongy cluster of nerves, your walls fluttered around him, tighter, wetter, like your body was trying to pull him in deeper.

He did it again. And again. Unhurried. Precise.

"That's it," Steve murmured, voice like silk and sin. "Feel that, sweetheart? Right there."

You nodded, eyes glassy, already halfway gone.

The second finger came after a minute of slow strokes, coaxing your body open. You felt it- every new inch. Wider. Fuller. The stretch just enough to make your toes curl.

His thumb never left your clit.

With two fingers buried inside you, he started to move them- not in and out, but apart. A slow, gentle scissoring motion that made your breath stutter and your hips lift instinctively. The stretch deepened, and you could feel every subtle shift of pressure, every widening sweep as he worked you open from the inside out.

"Still doing okay?"

You nodded, biting your lip. "Yeah. Just… big."

It was more than just the stretch- it was him. His fingers felt impossibly full inside you, so much more than your own ever had. The way they moved, the way they filled and stroked, finding every sensitive inch like they were made for your body- it was overwhelming. Your fingers could never curl quite like that, never press up against that perfect spot with such patience, such purpose.

He dragged them back over your sweet spot again, slow and unrelenting, and your thighs twitched helplessly.

He smiled. Kissed the inside of your thigh.

"That’s just two, honey. You’re doing so good. Opening up so pretty for me."

You barely heard him over the sound of your own moan.

Steve shifted slightly, and you felt the gentle nudge of a third finger teasing at your entrance, slick and warm and heavy with promise. Your breath caught. He hadn’t pushed in yet- just let it sit there, letting you feel the potential of it.

"Steve," you gasped, one hand grabbing at the sheets, the other curling at your side. "I- I’m good. Two is… so good."

And it was. It felt incredible. Like he was everywhere already, like your body could barely keep up with the stretch of just his two thick fingers dragging over your sweet spot again and again, stroking deep in ways you’d never reached on your own. You didn’t need more- your brain was already fogging, your thighs trembling. You felt full. So close to ruined.

Steve didn’t argue. Not right away. He just hummed, like he understood.

When you looked up at him, your breath caught for a whole new reason. His brows were slightly pinched, lips parted like he might say something but wasn’t sure how. There was something in his face- not heat, not hunger, but concern. A flicker of worry. The sharp, clear blue of his eyes had darkened "I know, sweetheart. I know it’s a lot. But I need to make sure you’re ready for me. Really ready. Gotta stretch you to fit me." he murmured, reaching for a bottle of lube on the nightstand. "Can’t have you breaking when I finally have you."

His fingers didn’t push all at once. First, he went back to stroking over that spot inside you, slow and deliberate, keeping your head spinning and your legs loose. Every drag of his fingers over that aching bundle of nerves sent another wave through you, your breath catching, your thoughts scattering. You tried to focus- on his voice, on his eyes- but it was impossible when every nerve ending was lighting up with sensation.

As he began to work the third finger in, the pressure built fast. Your mouth dropped open, a broken moan escaping as the stretch deepened- more than you thought you could take, more than you thought you wanted, but so achingly full it made your toes curl. His fingers were slow, steady, coaxing you open inch by inch, and the third felt like so much. It wasn't just the width- it was the way he pushed up, dragging over that tender, swollen cluster of nerves inside you like he knew exactly where it was. And he did. Again. And again.

"You're taking me so well," Steve murmured, his voice rasping low as he leaned over you. "Feels good, doesn’t it? I know it does. Can feel you clenching, baby... greedy little thing."

You barely registered the soft crack of a lid opening. You were too far gone to notice the subtle shift as he poured a little more slick over you, letting it drip down over his fingers, your entrance, mixing with the wetness already flooding you. It made everything easier. Smoother. Filthier.

He hummed, thumb circling again as he worked those three thick fingers in deeper. "So slick for me now. You needed this, didn’t you? Been so patient."

He leaned in close, breath warm against your ear. "You're so tight around me, baby. So small. Look at you- trying to take all this. You're doing so good."

His voice was soft, almost coaxing, but there was a weight behind it, a possessive edge that made your core flutter even harder. "I know it’s a stretch. I know it’s a lot. But I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’m just looking after you."

He twisted his fingers again, rubbing up into that spot that had you arching, crying out. "Gotta open you up right. Make sure you’re ready. You trust me, don’t you? Let me take care of you."

You felt yourself build- your breath catching, hips twitching, thighs quivering like another orgasm was already crawling its way toward you. Not a full one, not yet- but something small and devastating, the kind that made you want to cry.

"Don’t hold back," he whispered, voice thick with pride and hunger. "I want to feel every part of it. Every flutter. Every little break."

And just as you started to fall into it, Steve spread his fingers apart in a slow, deliberate fan. The stretch lit your nerves like a firework, and your voice cracked into a sob.

"There you go." he breathed. "God, just look at you..."

Then he brought them back together, pressing deeper, making you take it. All of it.

It was slow. Careful. But when the knuckle passed, your breath caught in your throat. Your hips shifted, thighs trembling. The stretch was so intense, so deep, and yet the pleasure lingered like a haze across your skin. You felt dazed- drunk on it. Drunk on him. Each drag of his fingers inside you made your body sing, your breath come shallow, your thoughts slip further from your grasp.

His free hand moved then, sliding down your thigh with the same maddening patience. Gentle. Soothing. But it wasn’t just comfort- it was control. His palm gripped your leg, grounding and commanding, keeping you spread just the way he wanted.

"C’mon, just one more," Steve said softly, almost coaxing. "Make sure you’re gonna be safe. Want you to enjoy it when I take you, yeah?"

You whimpered. Nodded. What else could you do? He had you unraveling with just his hands- and you trusted him to ruin you completely.

"Yeah, one more," Steve whispered. "Just my pinky. It's my smallest finger. You'll feel so good."

You didn’t even get a chance to think. His hand shifted smoothly, his fingers forming into a cone. The moment he pressed forward, your back arched off the bed, a soft gasp breaking free from your lips. It was instinctive- offering him a better angle as your body yielded.

The pressure flared white-hot as he pushed, all four fingers breaching you past the second knuckle. You panted hard, the stretch intense and dizzying, like you could feel every ridge of every finger working you open from the inside.

His fingers twisted gently, stretching you wider than you’d ever been. But your body wasn’t quite ready to take the final push- not yet. You felt the resistance, the way your muscles fluttered and clung around his knuckles, not letting him all the way in. It was too much. Too deep.

Steve didn’t force it. He didn’t even pause. His hand moved from your thigh to your clit again, rubbing in slow, purposeful circles- soft at first, then firmer, matching your panting breaths. You whimpered, hips twitching under the renewed stimulation. Your arousal was building again, thick and hot, the ache inside you sharpened by the way he was working you open.

Then he moved. Bent low, fingers still buried in you, and took your nipple into his mouth. He suckled gently at first, letting his tongue flick over the tight peak, then deeper, wetter, his mouth hot and hungry as his fingers never stopped moving. You cried out, arching into him, overwhelmed by sensation.

The wine buzzed low in your blood, making everything feel hazy and soft around the edges- but your body was humming. On fire. Your skin tingled under his lips, your core clenched around his hand, and still he coaxed you further.

"There we go," he murmured around your breast. "That’s it, baby. Let me in. Let me feel all of you."

And slowly, as he kissed and played and rubbed every tender part of you, your body gave. The tension melted just enough to let him press that final set of knuckles in, your walls stretching wide to accommodate him.

"Let me in, honey," he whispered.  The sensation was blinding. You moaned, raw and high, as your body finally let him sink in all the way- his knuckles pressing flush at your entrance. Your eyes rolled back at the overwhelming stretch, your mouth falling open as a wrecked sound tore from your throat. You could feel every inch of him inside you, the fullness deep and dizzying, stretching your limits and then some.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he rotated the hand buried inside you- turning so his palm was facing up. You felt everything shift, the pressure rearranging into something unbearable and glorious. He sat back slightly on his heels to watch, eyes dark, jaw tight, chest rising and falling in controlled, hungry breaths.

"God, baby," he muttered, dragging his thumb gently over your skin, just below your navel. "You're so wet. Can feel you dripping all around me."

He pushed in further, and you could feel it- the weight of him, the slow slide of his hand breaching you deeper, his fingers curling slightly as he explored every inch. Your body clenched around him, a helpless, reflexive squeeze that made his breath catch. His other hand pressed to your belly, firm and possessive. Then he pressed down, just enough for you to feel the pressure echo through your core- and then, with a slow, wicked smile, he wiggled his fingers inside you.

The sensation made your whole body jerk. Your breath hitched sharply as you felt the movement from both directions- inside and out.

"Can feel you now from both sides," he murmured, eyes locked on your face as your body trembled. The idea of it- of being so thoroughly filled that his hand was something you could feel through your own skin- was almost too much. It nearly made you come right there.

His fourth finger shifted, spreading wider. You gasped as your skin and muscles moved with him, stretched for him, obeyed the rhythm of his hand without resistance. Every flutter, every tiny ripple of sensation, rolled through you like waves you couldn't stop riding. He just smiled, calm and hungry, soaking in the sight of you coming undone under the weight of his touch.

You couldn’t answer. You were dumb with it. Flushed, panting, wine-fogged and pleasure-drunk. You stared up at the ceiling, glassy-eyed, mind floating somewhere between surrender and bliss as he watched you come undone around him, completely open and filled. His hand pulled back slightly, easing out just enough that you could breathe- but it only made the absence sharper, made your body clench harder in protest. He shifted his hand just so, tucking his thumb in tight beside the rest.

Then you heard it- the soft click of the lube bottle again. He didn’t rush, didn’t ask. He just poured more slick over your pussy, letting it drip down over his hand, easing everything. The sensation of the cool gel against your overheated skin made you shiver, and when his hand slid back in- slow, sure, claiming- it went easier. Smoother. Wetter.

Then his other hand was sliding down between your legs.

You barely had time to react before his fingers were back on your clit, rubbing in slow, steady circles designed to undo you all over again. You whimpered, breath stuttering, thighs twitching. It was too much and not enough all at once.

And somewhere through the haze, a thought tried to rise to the surface- Wasn’t this just supposed to be about getting you ready to take him? It wasn’t a protest, not really. Just a wobbly breath and a slurred, "Steve… do you really… need to go this far?"

You felt his body still, just for a beat. Then you felt it- the subtle pressure of his thumb beginning to press inward, joining the rest.

"Shh, baby," he cooed, the sweetness of his voice wrapping around you like silk and chains. "You’re doing so good for me. Just a little more. This is all for you, remember? So I don’t hurt you later. You trust me, don’t you?"

His thumb kept pushing, slow but firm, as his fingers curled again and rubbed your clit in soft, hypnotic circles. "Almost there. That’s it, sweetheart. Let me take care of everything.. Just need to relax, breathe for me.." he voice soothing but firm, like he was easing you through something important. "Just need you a little wetter. A little softer.

"You’re almost there anyway," he murmured. "Just a little further. You’re my best girl, right? You can give me this…"

His hand slid up to your chest again, thumb flicking your nipple before he bent low to mouth at it- suckling slow and deep while his hand remained buried inside you, the stretch lingering. You felt yourself melting beneath him, your blood hot from the wine, your brain cotton-soft and floaty.

Then he started to press deeper. You felt it- every inch, every widening push- as he slowly worked his hand further inside you. His fingers brushed your cervix, just a whisper of contact that made your hips buck and your breath stall. He dragged against your walls, firm and careful, stretching and spreading you with the thickest part of his hand, inch by inch. The pressure bloomed everywhere.

Your breathing turned ragged. Stilled. Each inhale caught at the back of your throat, a desperate little gasp as your body tried to reconcile the impossible fullness with the endless heat. It was too much.

Steve could hear it- your pulse pounding, your heartbeat racing beneath his hand. He paused, just enough to press his palm flat against your belly again, soothing and steady. "Shh, baby," he murmured, rubbing your clit with slow, coaxing circles. "You're doing so good for me. I’ve got you."

He twisted his hand slowly, working the angle, easing in more- his thumb still tucked tight. The shift made you cry out, thighs trembling, back arching. Your body writhed beneath him, sweat beginning to gather at your temples and between your breasts.

"That’s it, sweetheart," Steve murmured, voice warm and firm, grounded in command. "You’re doing so good. Just breathe through it for me, okay? In… and out. With me now."

He slowed the movement of his hand, letting the pressure at your entrance stay constant, steady. You felt every twitch of muscle, every strained stretch as his hand shifted inside you. It stung- but the pleasure was right there underneath it, riding the edge of each breath.

“Deep breath in,” he said again, his other hand sliding along your thigh, keeping you grounded. “Exhale. That’s it. Keep going. I can feel you trying to take me.”

You whimpered, voice breaking on the inhale, but you obeyed- moaning on the exhale as he gently pulled his fingers apart again, spreading you around the bulk of his hand. It burned. It thrilled.

Your muscles fluttered, tight and frantic around the stretch, and Steve’s thumb pressed soft circles to your clit as his hand slowly rotated again inside you.

"You're so close, baby. I can feel it. Just let go. Let me in."

He watched you- every shift in your expression, every tremble in your breath- with rapt attention, like the sight of your body trying to take him was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

And Steve just watched- entranced and hungry. His gaze swept over you like he couldn’t decide where to focus. Your face, flushed and lost. Your chest, heaving. Your pussy, stretched impossibly wide around his hand. "Steve?" 

He looked like a man utterly ruined by the sight of you taking him.

"Just a little more- yeah, like that. Deep breath in… and exhale."

Then came the push.

Thicker. Deeper.

Your body relented to his invasion.

Your feet kicked and slid over the bed, legs tensing and heels dragging against the sheets as your body scrambled for somewhere to put the sensation. It was involuntary- your muscles seizing, shifting, trying to escape and welcome the stretch all at once.

A whine bubbled up from your throat, high and thin, and Steve shushed you gently.

"I know, sweetheart. It’s intense, isn’t it?" he murmured, eyes locked on yours, steady as stone. "But you’re doing so good. Almost there. Just keep breathing."

The resistance gave way, your walls opening around him- wide and slick- as Steve pressed his whole hand inside you, slow and reverent, like he was slipping into something sacred. It felt like you swallowed him, your body stretching to take every inch. The thickest part of his hand pushed past your entrance, and you felt it all- knuckles, knotted pressure, heat blooming through your spine.

A guttural noise ripped from your throat, unbidden, broken. You were panting now, sweat clinging to your skin, your vision swimming.

And Steve? He stilled. Just held there, buried to the wrist, drinking it in like a man watching sunrise break over battlefield ruins.

He looked down at you with a quiet intensity, breath shallow, lips parted, like he was drinking in the sight of you stretched around him. Not just awe- something deeper. Hungrier. His eyes flicked over your face, your trembling body, like he was trying to memorize the moment before it slipped away. There was no need for words- his expression said everything. You were his. Entirely.

The way you clenched around him said it all.

"So full you can’t even breathe, huh?" Steve murmured, the hunger in his voice barely restrained. "Thought it hurt? But then I touched you and you just- " he chuckled darkly, "clenched down like you need it."

Your body twitched again, whimpering as his fingers rolled over your clit in tight, maddening circles. You were so stretched, so overwhelmed- and he loved it.

"Wish I had a mirror," he whispered, dragging his lips across your temple. "Wish you could see what you look like taking me like this."

Slowly, he began to curl his fingers, forming a fist inside you inch by inch. Your eyes rolled back in your head, your mouth falling open in a soundless gasp. Your head slammed back against the bed, back bowing high from the mattress. You’d never- never- been this full.

Steve twisted his wrist, gently at first, then deeper. You could feel every ridge of every knuckle moving inside you.

"Look at you. My perfect girl. So fucking deep… and still stretching for more."

He guided your hand down, easing it toward his wrist where you could feel the impossible stretch for yourself- your imagination catching up with reality, picturing just how deep he truly was. The thought alone made your walls flutter. You couldn’t even close your fingers around it his wrist..

"Oh, you like it, don’t you?" he murmured, voice dark and pleased.

It did something to you, knowing where he ended and you began- feeling exactly where your body had engulfed him, where he filled you to the brim. That connection, raw and surreal, made your head spin. The way you touched him let you feel the impossible, and it only made you clench harder. His fist seated deep inside you. Your fingers barely curled around it, trembling with the effort, the contact making the moment even more surreal.

"That’s all of me inside you. You’re mine now. Captain America’s little hand puppet, huh?"

Then, in a cruel little twist of sweetness, he took the hand you'd just had on his wrist and gently moved it down, guiding it up to your clit. His own hand covered yours for a moment, pressing your trembling fingers into motion. "Rub for me now, honey. Just like that. Let me see how needy you are."

Your fingers shook as they obeyed, drawing shaky little circles as he reached for the lube again- cool slick dripping over your skin as he coated his wrist. You could feel the tension build, feel his hand shift again inside you, pushing deeper- then easing back, the catch of his knuckles tugging against your entrance before he slid back in slow.

"Now, put your other hand on your tummy, baby," Steve instructed, your shaking hand going to where he'd pressed before.. "Feel that? That bulge right there- that’s me. That’s my fist, moving under your skin."

Your moan broke into pieces as the sensation took over everything. Your mind was unraveling, thoughts slipping through your fingers like sand. You were too full to think, too stretched to breathe. Every time you clenched down- every flutter, every squeeze- his hand was forced deeper, and it made the pressure sharper, more unbearable.

"Who knew you'd be such a good girl," Steve rasped, voice thick with pride and hunger. "So greedy for your Captain..."

He leaned closer, voice low and rough at your ear. "You have no idea how good you are, sweetheart. No one’s ever done this for me. They all cry and beg- but not you. You want this. Want me to ruin you. Stretch you out so all you fit is me."

You couldn’t even form words anymore. Just soft, broken sounds that spilled from your lips as your body writhed under him, nerves singing, muscles fluttering.

He started moving his hand- slowly pulling his fist out, then pressing it back in again, inch by inch. Deeper this time. His wrist following with every push until the blunt base of it met your slick entrance, stretching you wider, reshaping you around the sheer size of him.

You felt him press into your cervix, nudging it upward with every inward roll of his fist. It should’ve hurt- but it didn’t. It was all pressure. Endless, rolling pressure that sent your vision spinning.

"Going to stretch you out like this," Steve growled softly, voice thick and reverent. "Then you’re gonna take my cock, yeah? That’s a good girl… you’re so close, aren’t you? You just wanna cum all over my fucking fist, don’t you?"

You moaned, broken and desperate, your whole body arching into him. Every time you clenched down on his hand, it drove him deeper- your body trying to keep him, to take him, to never let him go.

Then he started to move faster- just a little. Using the strength in his arm to pump his fist in slow, firm strokes. The drag was heavy, relentless, the catch of his knuckles tugging at your entrance only to be followed by the obscene stretch of him sinking in again.

“That's it, baby,” Steve growled, watching you like you were the most precious, filthy thing he’d ever seen. “Just come for me. Just come and I’ll take it out…”

Your fingers obeyed on instinct, moving in tighter, desperate circles over your clit- just the way he’d shown you. Each pass sent a shock of pleasure through your body, your thighs twitching, your vision hazing at the edges. It was too much. It was everything. The pressure built like a storm in your gut- hot, unbearable, perfect.

And Steve kept moving. Pushing deeper. Pulling out. Letting the weight of his hand crash into your core until your hips jerked with every thrust. The squelch of lube, the slap of his palm against your overstretched entrance- it was obscene. Messy. Perfect.

You couldn’t even make sounds anymore. Your mouth opened, but nothing came out- just choked gasps and strangled breaths. The only sound in the room was Steve’s panting, his breath growing ragged with every tight clench of your body around his fist. He growled softly, low in his throat, watching you unravel beneath him.

Your body was shaking. It was too much. Too deep. Too intense. You tried to speak, to cry, but your voice was gone. You couldn’t do it-

And then you did.

You broke.

Your body snapped taut, back arching off the bed as you bucked and thrashed, thighs locking around his arm, cunt fluttering in desperate, helpless spasms around his fist.

Steve’s free hand came down hard across your belly, pinning you in place as you rode it out. "That’s it, baby," he whispered, eyes wide and reverent, watching every second of your collapse. "Take it. Take all of it. Fuck, look at you… squeezing me so tight. You were made for this."

You came in silence, eyes rolled back, mouth open on a wordless scream, your muscles seizing around him like your body never wanted to let go. Your body shook with aftershocks, thighs quivering, breath hitched in your throat as your arms flopped helplessly to the bed. You were light-headed, dizzy, your vision pulsing with black at the edges. Your muscles gave out.

You went limp.

Your limbs fell heavy against the sheets, chest rising in short, shallow bursts. The room spun softly around you, dim and warm, your body floating in the aftermath of something that had pulled you apart and left you scattered. Every inch of you pulsed with aftershocks, too spent to flinch, too full to even think.

Only then did Steve start to move again. Slowly, carefully, he began to ease his hand from your body- inch by inch, his fist sliding free from your ruined, fluttering walls. The sensation made you whimper, twitch, overstimulated and boneless. Your eyes fluttered half-shut, dazed and cloudy, as you watched him lift his hand.

It glistened with your slick. Wet. Shining. Marked by everything he'd just pulled from you.

He brought it to his mouth.

And licked.

One long, slow drag of his tongue over the curve of his knuckles. He didn’t look away from you. He watched you while he did it- watched your broken expression and blissed-out face as he tasted your release from his skin like he was savoring the finest dessert.

"So good for me," he purred, voice low, soothing as his clean hand gently moved yours away from your core. You flinched from the touch, but he only pressed his palm there- warm, grounding, firm.

"You’re gaping now, honey," he murmured, almost like he was cooing it. "Your abused little hole’s all twitchy, trying to remember how to close. That’s okay. You did so good."

He reached for the nightstand, offered you a glass of water, his voice still tender. "Sip, baby. Just sip for me."

You blinked slowly, dazed. You didn’t even realize when he moved again- just felt the shift in air as he settled between your legs, gaze dropping low.

"Oh god," he breathed. "You’re so open..."

He ran a single finger around your entrance, the slick noise obscene and wet as your hole fluttered around nothing. You whimpered.

"Want you to try and squeeze closed," he whispered.

You didn’t know why. But you did.

Your body tried. Weakly. Muscles trembling as you worked to draw yourself back together. He pushed his finger back in and you winced trying to hold it. 

"There you go," he praised softly. "Nothing permanent."

You barely had time to process the relief before he stood up from the bed.

Your dazed eyes followed him in slow, horror-tinged disbelief- watching as his hands moved to the button of his pants. This was supposed to be over. Your body was still twitching, your insides aching, stretched to their limit. But the way he looked at you- so calm, so sure- made something sharp twist in your chest. He hadn't lied.

As he stared down at the stretch of your slowly closing cunt, something dark flickered behind his eyes- satisfaction, maybe. Anticipation.

Then his gaze met yours.

"Told you," he murmured, unzipping slowly. "This was just to get you ready. We’re not done."

[zaczenemiji]

I really wanted to ask if you could do like a GN! It can be fem too it doesn’t really matter—

The Reader where like Ultraman can transform bigger too but they're more inspired by Mothra (like a mothra suit). I think it would've been like so cute to see Emi go all awe and clingy to the reader because how bright and heavenly they look💕

Kenji gets all jealous seeing his kajju daughter prefer the reader over him a lil bit. tall parents raising baby monster

Emi’s Favorite

Kenji Sato x Reader

Word Count: 1,546

Genre/Warning: Established Relationship, Family Dynamics, Jealousy (very slight)

Author’s Note: Loved this idea so much, thank you for this first request! Emi with a moth mommy ⋆˚ʚɞ

MASTERLIST

Something about your boyfriend changed the night after Gigantron’s “attack” on Tokyo Dome. That night, you were supposed to help him fend the kaiju off but he insisted he’d do it on his own.

For some reason, you were glad you did not join in because (1) their fight became a pursuit in the sky, and (2) you could not zoom in the air the same way Ultraman does. The only reason you’re able to fly is because of your wings—moth wings on your suit, which would put you at a disadvantage in the case of an air chase.

You were supposed to come over to his place that night to check on him because you were sure that the skirmish had caused more damage to his already injured shoulder. However, your calls were left answered by Mina, telling you that Kenji had already fallen asleep.

Deciding not to disturb him, you simply let him be. But in the days that followed, something surely wasn’t right. He couldn’t focus on his games, he looked so fatigued and restless all the time, and oh good gracious, there were now dark circles under his eyes.

He just looks so stressed and you were so upset with the fact that he didn’t want to tell you what’s going on with him. The time he got into a fight with the other players was the end of the line for you.

You barged into his house, finding him by his bathtub, in front of a TV, watching the news about him. The usually peaceful atmosphere in his house was now charged with tension as you made your way towards him. At that moment, Kenji was praying so hard the kaiju in his basement would keep still.

He still wouldn’t tell you what’s wrong. “It’s not about us. It’s about…” he said, “…something bigger. Something I’m not ready to share yet.”

Your eyes softened at his response, though the ache in your chest remained. You made him promise to talk to you when he’s ready and he agreed. You can’t stand seeing the love of your life like that but at the same time, you didn’t want to force him to do anything against his will. Taking up Ultraman was already enough of that.

Almost two months, after the incident, he seemed back to his old shape. Better, even. And thank heavens, finally, he could now tell you about what happened.

“There’s a what below?!” You asked in disbelief. The two of you were standing in front of the elevator and for a moment, you think your ears are playing tricks on you.

“A baby kaiju,” he replied and went on to explain everything. Still in disbelief, you took in everything with a nod. He placed his hand on the small of your back as he guided you into the elevator.

The moment you saw the big pink baby, you gasped. Emi made happy noises as you approached. However, upon noticing you, she suddenly began to cry.

Kenji was tapping on the glass containment in an attempt to shush her. But to no avail, Emi just cried harder.

“I’m sorry, she doesn’t know you yet,” Kenji apologized. “But I assure you, she’s a sweet big baby.”

Remembering how, at first, Emi only recognized Kenji when he was Ultraman, you decided to try something.

“(Y/n), what are you—“ Before Kenji finished, a soft glow enveloped you, and moments later, you emerged in your giant form. Your wings spread wide, shimmering with black patterns and warm tones of yellow and orange.

Emi’s cries slowed, her curiosity piqued by the sudden change. She opened her eyes, sobs turning to soft hiccups as she stared up at you in wonder. Her claws tapped the glass as she reached out, trying to grasp your wings.

Kenji watched in awe as Emi’s distress melted away. “I think it’s working,” he whispered.

“May I?” You asked, gesturing to the lid of the containment unit. Kenji gave a nod of approval. Carefully, you turned it before lifting it off.

You lowered yourself closer to Emi, your wings fluttering softly as she climbed up her containment. The gentle breeze they created seemed to soothe her further.

Emi let out a delighted squeal, her earlier tears forgotten. She toddled closer to you, her claws gently touching the edge of your wing. She let out a happy chirp, eyes sparkling with joy.

Kenji stepped closer, a relieved smile spreading across his face. “Wow, she loves you in this form,” he said.

You smiled down at him. “She’s just like her dad,” you replied. “She knows a good thing when she sees it.”

Kenji chuckled before he himself transformed into Ultraman. He sat beside you with Emi in between the two of you.

Your wings gently enveloped Emi in a comforting embrace. She was now calm and happy as she traced the pattern of your wings with her claw.

“Gentle, baby,” Kenji said as he rubbed her head.

She continued walking around you and playing with your wings until she tired herself out. She walked in front of you and climbed on your lap, nestling her head on your stomach.

“Awww, baby,” you cooed. You gently picked her up into your arms and gently swayed.

Kenji moved close to you, wrapping an arm around you. You nestled into his arm, head resting on the junction of his neck and shoulders. The three of you slept like that for the night.

The next morning when Emi awoke, she immediately looked for you. Realizing that the moth lady was missing, she cried. Mina was quick to assist her, playing videos of cartoons and Kenji to calm her. To Mina’s surprise, none of them worked.

“Who’s making my baby cry?” Kenji asked as he approached. He expected her crying to cease once she saw him. However, that is not the case.

“Huh?” He questioned. Emi always calms when she sees him. “Mina, try showing her pictures of (y/n).”

Mina did as told and as miraculously as yesterday, Emi stopped crying. “It seems like she got herself a new mother,” Mina commented.

With Emi’s growing fondness of you, you found yourself frequenting at Kenji’s house more than ever. She was just so cute; like a live plushie when you’re in your giant form.

“Hi babyyyy,” you cooed as you transformed into your giant form. You scooped her up, her head nuzzling against you. Her earlier play was abandoned in favor of your presence.

You walked in on Kenji and Emi playing baseball together. And you didn’t mean to interrupt but when you saw her walking towards you, you knew you had to transform.

Kenji smiled at the scene. “She really loves you, you know,” he said.

You smiled back, feeling a warm glow inside. “I love her too,” you replied. “She’s such a sweetheart.”

Emi chirped happily as she climbed up your torso and onto your shoulder where she could watch and touch your wings.

Kenji watched the interaction, his smile fading slightly as a twinge of jealousy crept in. His baby kaiju shows a different kind of joy when you’re around.

He loved Emi dearly, but lately, it seemed like she preferred your company over his. He couldn’t help but feel a bit sidelined.

“She really lights up when you’re here,” Kenji said, trying to keep his tone light.

You glanced at him, noticing the slight edge in his voice. “She lights up when you’re here too, Kenji,” you replied. “She loves you.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know, but… it feels like she’s more excited to see you than me sometimes.”

You tapped the space on the floor beside you, gesturing for him to switch to Ultraman. Thankfully, he did not resist.

You moved close to him as he sat beside you, his hand finding its way to your thigh. Your head automatically rested on his shoulder.

“You’re her dad, Kenji,” you said. “She loves you so much. Maybe she’s just fascinated by my wings right now.”

You felt Kenji nod, although the jealousy still lingered within him. “Yeah, maybe,” he replied. “I just want to be enough for her.”

You leaned back to look at him. Your other hand which was not holding Emi on your shoulder, moved up to hold his face. “You are enough. You’re everything to her,” you said. “And to me.”

Emi squirmed out of your hand, gently jumping off your shoulder and landing on your lap. She toddled over to Kenji. He looked down at her, his heart melting as she reached up, wanting to be held. He picked her up, and she nuzzled against his chest, purring softly.

“See?” You asked with a smile. “She adores you.”

Kenji hugged Emi close, his jealousy fading into thin air. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess you’re right.”

You spent the rest of the day playing with Emi, taking turns holding her and making her laugh. By the time evening rolled around, she was content and sleepy in Kenji’s arms.

Before reverting to your original form, you kissed Emi’s head and then leaned in to kiss Kenji. “I’ll be back soon,” you said. “Take care of our little one.”

Kenji smiled, his earlier worries forgotten. “We’ll be here, waiting.”

Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna be tagged on future Kenji oneshots

@scribble0rat

[player042]

HEARTBEAT | kang dae-ho.

pairing: kang dae-ho (player 388) x reader

summary: during the third game you reunite with dae-ho who is everything but thrilled to have his pregnant girlfriend surrounded by death. requested here.

warning: pregnant!reader, established relationship, hot baby daddy dae-ho 😫 angsty and emotional, mention of financial struggles, survival themes, please enjoy ♥️

word count: 2.8k

The door slammed shut behind you, the loud clank of the mechanism sealing you and Dae-ho inside the small, dimly lit room just as the timer hit zero. For a moment, the air felt charged, thick with all the words left unspoken. You stood frozen near the wall, your hands instinctively cradling your belly, while Dae-ho's tall frame loomed near the door. His jaw was clenched tight as you heard gunshots and screaming coming from the other side of the door, his eyes were fixated on the floor as if forcing himself to maintain composure.

Neither of you had so much as exchanged a meaningful glance in front of the others, too scared of what even a flicker of familiarity might invite in this place where alliances were fragile, and vulnerability was a target. But here, in this room, with no one else watching...

"Dae-ho," you breathed, the sound of his name cracking the tension like a dam breaking.

His head snapped up, and within seconds, he crossed the distance between you, his hands cupping your face as he kissed you fiercely, desperately. It wasn't soft or tender, it was raw, like he'd been holding his breath for days and could finally exhale. His lips moved against yours as if trying to drink in everything he'd been forced to repress since seeing you again.

"You're here," he murmured against your lips, his voice trembling as he pulled back just enough to look at you. His hands slid to your shoulders, down your arms, as though reassuring himself that you were real. "God, you're really here."

Your breath hitched, your chest tightening as the weight of his words hit you. "I didn't want you to know," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"That's obvious," he said bitterly, his thumb brushing over your cheek. His gaze softened, his worry bleeding through the anger. "You shouldn't be here. What the hell were you thinking? You're pregnant. And you joined this… this hell?"

Tears stung your eyes as you turned your head away, breaking his gaze. "What choice did I have?" you said, your voice cracking. "We're drowning in debt, Dae-ho. The baby needs a future. What else was I supposed to do?"

"You were supposed to rely on me," he snapped, his hands dropping to his sides, his frustration spilling over. "I would've-" He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair as he paced the small room. "I would've done something. Anything. But you just- You didn't even tell me. You just left me out of this."

"I didn't want to drag you down," you said, your voice trembling. "You've already done so much for us, Dae-ho. I couldn't-"

"Don't," he interrupted, his voice low but sharp. "Don't give me that. You didn't drag me down. You're the one thing in my life that kept me sane." He stopped pacing and turned back to you, his gaze piercing. "And now you're here, risking not just your life but our child's. Do you have any idea what it felt like seeing you out there? Pretending I didn't know you? Pretending I didn't care?"

"I didn't want to need you," you confessed, "Because needing you… it scared me. It still does."

His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking as he looked away, his hands balled to fists before he relaxed them again. "You can need me, damn it," he said softly, his voice low but fierce. "You think I don't need you just as much?"

You pressed a hand to your stomach, the guilt and fear twisting inside you, whispering,"If they know we're connected, they could-"

"I don't care what they do to me," he cut in quickly, his voice rising. "You should've thought about what it would do to me if something happens to you. If something happens to our baby."

The silence that followed was heavy, the air between you thick with regrets. Finally, Dae-ho took a deep breath and stepped closer, his hands finding your shoulders again. His voice softened, though the edge of desperation still lingered. "We'll figure this out, okay? We'll keep our distance in front of the others, but I need you to promise me something."

You looked up at him, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his eyes. "What?"

"You don't take unnecessary risks," he said firmly. "You stick to the safest options. You stay out of the way whenever you can. And if there's even a hint of danger, you let me handle it. Got it?"

You hesitated, the weight of his words pressing down on you. "I'll try," you said finally, knowing it was the best promise you could give.

He exhaled, his forehead dropping to rest against yours. "That's not good enough," he murmured. "But it'll have to do."

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, holding onto each other as the reality of your situation loomed over you. His arms wrapped around you gently, one hand resting protectively over your belly.

"I'll get you out of here," he said softly, his voice full of conviction. "You and the baby. I swear it."

Dae-ho held you close for a moment longer before stepping back, his hands still lingering around your waist. His gaze softened, though the worry didn't leave his eyes.

"You should stick to Jun-hee," he said, his voice firm but kind.

You blinked at him, confused. "What?"

"She's part of my team and she's pregnant too," he explained. "If you two stick together, it'll make it easier for me to keep an eye on you. I know I can't be obvious about us, but at least this way, I'll know you're not alone. And I can look out for both of you without drawing attention."

You opened your mouth to argue, but something about the way he looked at you, pleading, almost desperate, made you pause. "You're really planning to take care of two pregnant women in a place like this?"

He huffed a humorless laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's just… what I do. I can't not try to help. You know that about me."

"That's not an excuse," you said back, your frustration bubbling to the surface. "You're acting like this is all on me, but what about you? Why are you even here, Dae-ho? You didn't exactly tell me you were planning on joining these games either!"

His expression faltered, guilt flashing across his face. "I was trying to protect you," he admitted quietly. "I didn't want you to know. I thought I could-"

"Could what?" you interrupted, "Fix everything? Take on the world by yourself? You think that's what I wanted? You think I wouldn't have tried to stop you if I knew?"

"I didn't want you to stop me," his shoulders slumped, "I thought if I could win… I could pay off everything. For both of us. For the baby. I didn't want you to worry about anything anymore."

You stared at him, your heart aching at the sincerity in his voice, but the frustration didn't subside entirely. "So you thought it was okay to risk your life without telling me but not okay if I want to do the same? That's not protecting me, Dae-ho. That's keeping me in the dark."

"I know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But when I saw you here…" He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily. "I didn't know whether to be furious or terrified. And now we're both in this mess."

The silence stretched between you, heavy and tense. Finally, you sighed, the fight draining out of you. "As you said, we're in this together now," you said, your voice quieter. "Whether we like it or not."

He nodded, his eyes locking with yours. "And as I said, I'll make sure you make it out of here," he said firmly. "You and the baby. No matter what."

"And what about you?" you asked, your voice trembling. "What happens to you, Dae-ho?"

"That doesn't matter," he said without hesitation. "What matters is that you survive."

The conviction in his voice made your chest tighten, and you shook your head. "I'm not letting you sacrifice yourself for me. Not again."

"We'll figure it out," he assured softly, reaching out to take your hand. "One game at a time. But for now, promise me you'll stick with Jun-hee. Please."

You hesitated, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. Finally, you nodded. "Fine. But promise me something too."

"Anything," he said without missing a beat.

"You don't do anything reckless," you said, your voice firm. "No heroics, no self-sacrificing. If we're getting out of here, we're doing it together."

His lips curved into a faint smile, though his eyes remained serious. "Deal."

For the first time since joining these games and for the first time for a very long time, you felt a flicker of hope, fragile, but real. Whatever came next, at least you weren't alone.

Dae-ho let out a shaky breath, and before you could say another word, he sank to his knees in front of you. The sudden movement caught you off guard, but it wasn't until his arms wrapped gently around your waist that your breath hitched. He rested his forehead lightly against your stomach, his large hands cradling your sides with the utmost care, as though you might break.

"Dae-ho," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.

He didn't respond immediately, just stayed there, holding you as if you were the most fragile, precious thing in the world. After a moment, he tilted his head slightly, his cheek pressing against your belly. His warm breath fanned through the fabric of your shirt, and when he spoke, his voice was soft, tender, almost reverent.

"I can't believe it," he murmured, his gaze softening as it dropped to your stomach. He placed a hand there, his palm warm and loving. "There's a piece of us right here." You couldn't help but smile.

His voice was quiet when he spoke again, the words almost a prayer.

"Hey, little one," he murmured, his words directed at the life growing inside you. "It's me… your dad."

Your hands moved instinctively, threading through his hair. The soft strands slipped between your fingers, grounding you in this surreal moment. Dae-ho closed his eyes at your touch, leaning into it like a man starved for comfort.

"You probably can't hear me yet, but…," he continued, his voice trembling slightly, "I need you to be strong, okay? Just like your mom. And I promise,  I'm going to do everything I can to keep you two safe. You're my whole world now, you know that? Both of you."

A lump formed in your throat as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You hadn't expected this, this unfiltered love pouring from him. It made the weight of your circumstances feel both heavier and lighter at the same time.

"I bet you're going to be just like her," he said with a small chuckle, his hand gently rubbing your side. "Strong, smart, way too stubborn for your own good."

You let out a teary laugh, your fingers tightening in his hair. "Hey, don't encourage that."

He tilted his head back slightly, looking up at you with a crooked grin that melted your heart. "Can't help it. It's in the genes."

His gaze softened as he looked back at your stomach, and he pressed a gentle kiss to the fabric of your shirt, his lips lingering for a long moment. The action was so tender, so full of love, that it nearly brought you to your knees as well. He rested his forehead there again, his arms tightening around you.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "For everything. For not being there when you needed me. For making you feel like you had to do this alone."

"Dae-ho," you whispered, your own voice cracking as you cupped his face, guiding him to look up at you. "You're with us. That's all that matters."

He swallowed hard, nodding as his hands slid down to hold yours. "I swear to you, I'm not going anywhere. I'll fight through hell if I have to. I'll keep you safe, no matter what it takes."

The tears you'd been holding back finally spilled over, and you knelt down with him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pressed your forehead against his. 

"We'll survive this," he repeated softly, his breath warm against your temple. "And when we get out… we'll make a real life together. The three of us."

You hesitated, your heart hammering as you realized it was the moment to tell him. "Four," you said softly, your hand covering his where it rested protectively over your stomach.

His body stiffened slightly, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Four?" His voice was cautious, almost as if he were afraid to hope.

You nodded, your throat tightening as emotion swelled. "Before I came here, I had a doctor's appointment, and… we're having twins, Dae-ho."

The silence that followed was deafening, his stillness unnerving. For a moment, you worried you'd broken him, but then he slightly leaned back on his knees, his eyes wide and glassy as they searched yours.

"Twins?" he repeated, the word barely audible. His hand shifted, trembling slightly as it moved to cradle your stomach. He said nothing for a while, just staring at you as if trying to comprehend what you'd just revealed. His lips parted, a shaky exhale escaping as his thumb traced over the fabric covering your belly.

"Twins," he repeated again, this time with a mix of wonder and disbelief. "We're having twins?"

A small smile tugged at your lips, despite the tears streaming down your face. "Yes. I wasn't sure how to tell you… or when. But yeah. Two little ones."

His head dropped, forehead again pressing gently against your stomach as he let out a quiet, shaky laugh. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. "Two," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't know whether to cry or laugh."

Your fingers softly tucked a strand of hair away from his beautiful face, "You can do both," you said gently, "I did."

He tilted his head up to look at you, and the raw emotion in his eyes took your breath away. His lips curved into a faint smile, one that didn't quite hide the tears slipping down his cheeks. "Twins," he said again, shaking his head slightly. "I didn't even know how I was going to handle one. Now there are two of them. Two little… us."

The way he said it, so in awe, so full of wonder, made your chest ache. "I wasn't planning on telling you here," you admitted, "Not in this nightmare. But I couldn't… I couldn't keep it to myself anymore."

"I'm glad you didn't," he said, his voice steadying. He cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears you didn't even realize had fallen. "No matter what happens in this hellhole, no matter how dark it gets, knowing they're waiting for us? It's everything."

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Dae-ho, we can't let this place take us."

"It won't," he said firmly, his jaw tightening. "I won't let it. We'll make it. I'll make damn sure of it."

His hands slipped back down to your waist, his fingers splaying over your belly as though he could somehow shield the life growing inside you from the horrors outside. "Two little heartbeats," he murmured, his voice softening. "Do you know what that means?"

You tilted your head, a small smile playing on your lips. "What?"

"It means we're going to need twice the strength," his gaze locked with yours, "But it also means we've got twice the reason to fight. Twice the reason to win."

You leaned forward, your noses almost touching, your hands covering his on your stomach. "We'll do it together," you assured quietly. "The four of us."

"The four of us," he echoed, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss so tender it left you breathless. "You're stuck with me now. Forever."

You let out another teary laugh, the sound mingling with his soft chuckle. "I've been stuck with you for years, Dae-ho. And I wouldn't have it any other way."

For a moment, the world outside that room, the horrors of the games, didn't exist. It was just two lovers holding onto each other and the heartwarming hope bound on a fragile string of the future that was worth fighting for. You allowed yourselves to feel it, this unwavering love, this promising hope that had been buried beneath the fear. It wasn't much, but it was enough to remind you both why you were fighting, to survive, to protect, and to make it out of this nightmare as a family.

And whatever came next, you knew you wouldn't face it alone.