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tsukheeshima · 23 hours ago

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JAYFLRT JUST U WAIT. I WILL BE GRABBING 3 CANS OF HEINEKEN AND MY MARLBORO RED FOR A SEC I WILL BE BACK THIS IS MY BEDTIME STORY I love YOU Dont die

implausible deniability

❝ don't spin this on me. this is about you jerking off to your best friend's sister, you freak. ❞

PAIRING ▸ jake sim x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ smut, crack, fluff, college au, brother's best friend au, academic rivals to lovers au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, alcohol, weed, lots of banter, sexual tension, dry humping, dirty talk, teasing, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (m. receiving), semi public sex, jayhoon bullying jake

SUMMARY ▸ in which jake comes to the horrifying realization that he might have somewhat of a masochistic streak. case in point: he can't stop himself from getting turned on whenever you argue with him.

WORD COUNT ▸ 12,652 words

PLAYLIST ▸ sweet lies by exo • damn right by jennie, childish gambino, kali uchis • red angel by s.e.s. • thirsty by tinashe

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ this was written on a whim because of that weverse live clip of jake nerding out lol hope u like it!!

JAKE SIM WAS CURRENTLY EXPERIENCING A MAJOR PREDICAMENT THAT PROBABLY WOULDN’T SURVIVE MOST FRIENDSHIPS.

To preface, when it came down to it, he respected Lee Heeseung a whole lot (although he would rather die than admit this out loud). There was something special about having a childhood friend—someone who was there for him at the awkward stages of puberty and lowest points of his life—and Jake would’ve been a fool to ever take that for granted. For their tight-knit friendship to carry into university made their bond irreplaceable to Jake. He genuinely trusted that he and Heeseung would be friends even when they were old and cheating at bingo together in a retirement home.

That being said, the chances of that happening were looking bleak now that you, Heeseung’s younger sister, were constantly occupying a space in Jake’s head that was strictly reserved for something more… impure.

It was strictly lust; however, that somehow made matters much worse because how could he possibly lust after his best friend’s sister? If it was some complicated emotion like love, then at least Jake could tuck his heart away and hide his feelings until the day he died.

Hiding a boner, though—that was difficult.

Even more so because you were in the same Engineering & Society seminar as Jake, and since the course was structured for small group debates, the two of you were often at each other’s throats in heated arguments. Of course, Jake tried to approach you as civilly as possible, so their professor believed the intense back-and-forth was simply a healthy dialogue, but neither of you would back down once it started.

The problem only made itself clear last month, despite how many excuses Jake made for himself to deny your involvement. It took him three more weeks to accept that his hard-ons were your doing and not simply a standing ovation out of respect for the debate (which was one of his worst possible reasons, to be honest).

And the cherry on top was that they always happened when you two were quarreling.

You two could be insults deep in what was supposed to be a casual discussion about greenwashing in product engineering, and Jake would, without fail, feel all the blood rush to his dick until it was uncomfortably stiff.

Unsexy thoughts, unsexy thoughts, unsexy thoughts, he kept chanting to himself, attempting to force an image in his head of Heeseung kicking his sorry ass. Unfortunately, it did very little to prove effective against the scarily overwhelming libido that tented his pants.

Jake was ashamed to admit that he was also mildly turned on by the idea of being caught, which made absolutely no sense because that was also his biggest fear.

So, to summarize, Jake now found himself horny in situations where:

he was pissed off

he was in the middle of a heated argument

he was potentially going to get beat up

It wasn’t looking good for him, to say the least.

Now, there was a justifiable reason as to why Jake was under the assumption that Heeseung was going to punch the living daylights out of him. Although you were only a year younger than your brother, he was awfully protective of you because a little sister was all he ever wanted.

Back when they were middle schoolers, running over to each other’s houses across the street to show each other their new comic books, Heeseung would always bring you around. Jake had nothing going on in his head but Spider-Man and legos back then, so he wasn’t very pleased with you constantly trailing behind them like a lost puppy. Naturally, that led to you and Jake often bickering about your annoying, lingering presence.

The last time Jake ever complained about you hanging around them was when he blew up on you for following them to the corner store. That place was practically their sanctuary back then. The 99 cent AriZona iced tea was like uncut cocaine to him. The fact that you, a mere fifth grader, encroached on their safe haven was an insult—a disgrace! The reputation of the fine establishment simply didn't allow for puny elementary kids to come and go as they pleased (in Jake’s head, at least).

“Quit following us, Y/N,” eleven-year-old Jake muttered back then, throwing you a glower over his shoulder. “Don’t you have other friends to bother?”

“Not really.”

“Yeah, I can tell, so stop trying to steal mine.”

Although you were all pigtails and Barbie dolls back then, you were surprisingly sharp-tongued for an elementary schooler. “Sure, Jake. You can have my brother and the rest of your imaginary friends.”

He wasn’t even the type to get angry. In fact, Jake had glowing reviews about his personality; moms loved him, the guys always picked him first for sports teams, and he even caught the attention of some of the girls at school. It wasn’t like him to get so riled up over something so small and petty, but he always happened to blow his top when it came to you.

It was rather unbecoming of him (considering Park Sunghoon later deemed him Mommy’s Little Misogynist for this one), but Jake was boiling with so much anger that he wound up chugging the rest of his iced tea in one go, crumpling up the aluminum into a disc, and throwing the empty can straight at your forehead. The force of his throw, normally reserved for intense sessions of Four Square on the playground, left behind an angry red mark that quickly brought you to tears.

Before Jake could even stutter out an apology, he was met with a blow to his gut that had him doubling over Heeseung’s fist. It was then that Jake realized that his friend did not take any disrespect toward his sister lightly.

This carried on into high school, too, where Jake got to witness Heeseung hunt down your first ever boyfriend for cheating on you. It was quite the scene, full of threats and rather creative insults, but Jake realized that he was only let off the hook because of his close friendship with Heeseung.

Over the years, he learned he could bicker with you all he wanted—Heeseung finally realized that you could stand up for yourself—but to lust after you so shamelessly was a death wish. It was the pinnacle of disrespect toward you. If your brother ever found out, Jake was a dead man.

That was why he was now fiercely determined to get through the rest of his seminar without having to cross his legs and hide the deplorable tension in his jeans.

Today, he prepared himself by starting his day off with a bowl of Corn Flakes, intended to curb sexual desires by John Harvey Kellogg himself. Then, he devoured a handful of graham crackers before class, which Jake wasn't quite sure would be useful as an anaphrodisiac, but it was worth a shot. Actually, he wasn't very confident with either of these options, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

The question they were tackling today was whether engineers were to be held accountable for how their inventions were used, such as facial recognition for surveillance or military drones. Thought-provoking, for sure. Jake made a mental note to discuss it with the professor at office hours—anything he could do to suck up to the guy to compensate for his crass behavior during discussions.

“You can’t just start something potentially dangerous and walk away from the consequences,” you claimed, that challenging look in your eyes daring anyone to speak against you.

Usually, no one other than Jake dared to oppose you, so the silence that followed after was thick with anticipation, stuck in their throats like honey. Your gaze met Jake’s for a split second, eyebrows lifting in mild surprise. He would usually be standing up by now, but he didn’t feel the need to. To be quite honest, Jake agreed with your point this time, so there was no reason for him to come up with some half-baked counterargument for the sake of participating. Plus, it was far too risky to argue with you; he was already determinedly set on making it through this class without his blood rushing to rather inappropriate regions.

Still, the way you were looking at him, waiting for him to argue back with those sickeningly adorable eyes, had him rising to his feet, anyway. What a weak-willed man he was. Sunghoon would laugh right in his face.

“But if someone misuses the technology, that’s on them, not the people who created it,” he countered, surprisingly convincing for someone who didn’t believe a word he was saying. “The engineers can’t control how their technology is used once it’s sold to whoever.”

“But don’t you see how technology’s being used? You really think mass surveillance keeps improving because engineers are just super passionate about innovation? It’s all about the money, isn’t it?” He could hear the emotion rising in your voice; you were just an overly-passionate person when it came to these things, but you sucked in a breath to collect yourself. “If they know the harm their inventions cause and keep going, they should be held accountable for what they make!”

This was honestly ridiculous. Jake fully agreed with you, yet here he was, scrambling to think of a rebuttal so that he could watch the irritation grow on your face.

“Then what about the ones built with good intentions? Should they be held responsible because their honest work was manipulated?”

“Impact over intent,” you replied with a firmness intended to shut him up. “Honest work only goes so far. Would you be okay with the vision for your product getting warped into something else entirely?”

“So, you think if someone designed tracking features on a health app or some shit, they should be held responsible if that data gets sold or used by the government?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I think.”

Well, yeah, that checked out.

Jake raised a brow. “How are they supposed to know? Most engineers are working on small parts of these big projects.”

“Seriously? Look at Boeing! All these sloppy engineering decisions resulted in those plane crashes.” There was a hint of venom in your tone and your eyes were sharp. Jake could tell you were getting to that level of frustration that he couldn’t help but get excited over. “Over three hundred people died because of plain negligence. Who’s to blame, then?”

“I just wanna ask where you think the line should be drawn,” he said. “If we hold every single engineer accountable for how their work gets used, then no one’s gonna build anything. You just end up driving them all into a corner.”

“Are you trying to be an engineer for the money, or are you in it for meaningful work?”

“Uh… yeah, the meaningful work, of course.” And the six-figure starting salary. That was beside the point, though.

“Then shouldn’t you be approaching what you create with some more tact? You can’t just mindlessly build whatever without thinking beyond your creation.”

“Are we still talking about engineers here, or are you just coming for me now?”

“Well, if the shoe fits.”

“The most I’ve done is code a calculator. I don’t think the government’s interested.”

“I’m clearly not talking about that. I’m talking about—”

“This is a seminar, Y/N. We’re supposed to be talking about society here.”

“Are you not part of society anymore, Jake? I sincerely apologize for assuming.” There was nothing sincere about your tone, though. “What? You’ve got nothing else to say?”

And, like clockwork, there was that telltale strain once again as Jake felt his chest grow hot. He reached behind him to grab the head of his chair and sit back down, slowly crossing one leg over the other. You frowned as you watched him concede, and Jake felt rather pathetic that everyone was under the impression that he surrendered. There was a chill in the room—whether it was from a draft or the tension from the conversation, he couldn’t tell.

“I think I’m done, but I agree with you, by the way,” he said, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Just wanted to participate.”

A few snickers rose from some of their classmates. You scoffed, partly out of amusement and partly out of exasperation, and slumped back in your seat with your arms crossed. The seething look on your face wasn’t doing him any favors, nor did the Corn Flakes and graham crackers, apparently.

“Okay, good stuff, good stuff,” said Jay Park, Jake’s longtime friend and current TA for the semester. “Anyone who isn’t Y/N or Jake wanna give it a go? Hopefully without making the rest of us painfully uncomfortable.”

He unfortunately had to bear witness to every single one of the showdowns between you and Jake, but he always kept his mouth shut in front of Heeseung because, as Jay put it, the feud between the two was “too messy to escalate.” Jake was just glad he didn’t have to resort to blackmail to shut Jay up.

It turned out that people were, in fact, willing to participate as long as you and Jake weren’t involved. Jake got to sit back for the rest of class and grit his teeth, willing his hard-on to go away before they were all dismissed. What made that quite the feat was the fact that you kept watching him for the rest of class with calculating eyes, as if you were peering into his very soul.

By the time class ended, Jake felt relief flood his chest. He needed to get a mile away from you before your eye contact made his situation a whole lot worse. As he was zipping his backpack back up, Jake saw your perfectly manicured fingernail dragging across the grain of his desk through the corner of his eye.

You were standing right in front of him.

He looked up, alarmed. From behind you, Jay, who was about to approach him, was backing up slowly, shooting his friend a grimace and opting to duck out the door instead. As the last few people in the classroom were filing out, Jake realized he was now left alone with you.

Fuck.

Jake cleared his throat. “Can I help you?”

“You can start by explaining why you keep going out of your way to get on my bad side,” you said. “If you agreed with me that entire time, why were you purposely trying to piss me off?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call it going out of my way,” he retorted. “Class participation is a requirement. All I did was stand up.”

“And refute every single point you believed in?”

He clicked his tongue. “What can I say? I do it for the love of the game.”

“Uh-huh.” Completely unconvinced, you looked him up and down. Your demand was simple, yet downright mortifying: “Uncross your legs.”

Jake froze.

“Odd request, don’t you think?”

Your gaze dropped for a split second—not long enough for it to be obvious, but Jake caught it in time. “I don’t think so. We’ve known each other since, like, forever. I think we’re at the point where I can make odd requests.”

He felt his mouth going dry. What were you even on about? Sure, Jake was probably close to you in a forced proximity sort of way, but that didn’t mean you two were suddenly buddy-buddy. You two were close in the sense that Jake went to your high school graduation (as per Heeseung’s invite, of course) and drove you to your tennis practices whenever your brother was busy—not whatever this was.

But who was he kidding? Nothing about this conversation screamed buddy-buddy. You were clearly onto him, and all Jake could do was think of every sad movie he’d ever watched to get rid of the growing erection in his pants.

Jake swallowed thickly. “You want me to uncross my legs,” he stated matter-of-factly, and you snorted.

“What, didn’t hear it the first time?”

“Can’t do that,” was all could say in response—strained, like something was lodged in his throat.

“You can’t… move your leg?”

“Nope—arthritis.”

“Arthritis,” you repeated blankly.

“Yeah. Runs in my family.”

You shook your head, seeing right through his attempt to steer the conversation back into calmer waters. “You’re a terrible liar, Jake.”

“Really? I thought I was doing a pretty good job earlier.”

“Mmhm. A real Oscar-winning performance for someone arguing against his own opinion—truly,” you said. “Also, you’re stalling.”

“Here,” he bit out, and slowly—deliberately—Jake uncrossed his legs for you to see. The bulge in his pants had effectively gone down with much mental gymnastics, and you simply stared down at his groin with a frown settling on your lips. “Happy now, you pervert?”

All you did was look at him with a beady gaze, raising a perfectly arched brow before pulling your phone out of your bag. Jake could only return a look of absolute bewilderment as you flipped your hair over your shoulder and tapped away furiously, the glow from the screen illuminating your features just enough for you to look even more radiant.

“I see. So, uh… Heeseung’s gonna be out of town for his hockey tournament and I need a ride to Kazuha’s place tonight. She’s throwing this huge party, and I was planning on pregaming before I head over, but I’m not about to drunk drive, for obvious reasons.” You wouldn’t even look up as you spoke, keeping your eyes trained on the text messages that seemed to be delivering in a flurry. Notification after notification—Jesus, would it kill you to turn your ringer off? “Pick me up at eight?”

Jake blinked slowly—a few more times, for good measure. He couldn’t believe his ears. You just grilled him to a crisp, and now you were acting as if nothing happened? He was fighting his own blood from pumping to his dick, and you were just casually changing the topic?

But—whatever. As long as the attention wasn’t on his crotch anymore, he could roll with this.

He scowled. “Kazuha’s? Hey, I’m not your chauffeur.”

But you were already walking out the door. “Yeah, yeah. So, eight?”

A retired sigh fell from his lips. “Sure—fine, whatever. I’ll be there.”

In a happy world, Jake’s schedule was packed with classes all day so that he wouldn’t have to run into Heeseung right after that not-so-fun encounter with you.

In the real world, however, Jake’s schedule was specifically structured so that he and Heeseung had the same breaks between classes. They planned this out well in advance so that they could meet up once they were done with class. Of course, this didn't always work out because of overlapping course times, but the two of them happened to luck out this semester (although it wasn't exactly working in Jake’s favor right now). Just as he walked out of his classroom, his friend was making his way down the hallway to get to him.

“Yo,” Heeseung greeted. He had his hockey stick slung over his shoulder; for weekend tournaments like these, Heeseung would usually leave campus early so that he could commute before nightfall. “I thought you’d be at our table already. Jay isn’t with you?”

“I was hanging back for, uh… homework help,” he lied, hoping it came out smooth enough to convince his friend.

“Couldn’t you just ask Jay?”

Well, he had a point there. Jake settled for saying, “Nah. Fuck that guy.”

To his relief, Heeseung just laughed. “Yeah, true. That fucker goes on for hours if you get him to start explaining something. I asked him one question about my calc homework the other night, and I swear the sun was coming up by the time he was done.”

“That’s why you come to me first.”

“I tried. Your ass was knocked out, so all I had was Jay.” Then, Heeseung added, “By the way, since I’m gonna be out this weekend, I need you to do me a favor.”

“Yeah?”

“Y/N said she needed a ride to this… I don’t know—I guess Danielle’s sorority’s hosting something? A charity event or some shit like that. Anyway, I won’t be here, but she needs a ride. Are you free? It’s Saturday afternoon.”

“I’m already—” Jake stopped himself. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to disclose the minor detail that he was also going to be driving you to Kazuha’s party tonight. As hard as he racked his brain for an excuse, he couldn’t think of anything productive he’d be doing the next day. “Yeah, it’s no problem.”

“Appreciate it, man,” Heeseung said, thumping Jake’s chest with the back of his hand.

Their chatter continued out of the science building, pushing open the doors to be hit with a gust of cold wind. Heeseung then stopped dead in his tracks, looking down at his phone before throwing his head back in exasperation.

“Coach wants us to meet in the gym before we leave,” he told Jake with a resigned shrug. “I’ll see you on Monday, okay? Tell Sunghoon and Jay I said bye.”

The one thing Jake despised in the world was saying goodbye to people. He got far too emotional over a gesture that really wasn’t that dramatic, and he hated how seriously he took them. Still, acting as if he was a normal person who knew how to act normally about such matters, he clapped his friend on the back and wished him good luck before watching him walk off.

Seriously, he felt like a military wife sending off his husband.

When Jake found the table that Sunghoon and Jay were sitting at, scarfing down their sandwiches at record speed. Jake dropped his bag on the ground and collapsed into the seat next to Sunghoon. He reached over to grab one of Jay’s curly fries, twirling it around in his finger before he nibbled on it.

“Heeseung’s gone,” he told them.

“Oh. His tournament?” Jay took an obnoxiously loud sip from his drink. “You phrased that like he died.”

“He said bye.”

Sunghoon nodded wistfully. “He will be missed—mostly ‘cause he always does the dishes. Now we’re responsible. Ugh.”

With his elbow on the table and chin sunk into his palm, Jake nodded along to Sunghoon’s words, still stuck in some strange sort of daze.

Sunghoon shot him a questioning look before turning to Jay. “Okay, I'll bite: What’s up with Sadness?”

“Dunno.” Jay covered his mouth to finish chewing the rest of his bite. “He and Y/N were getting into it during class today.” He looked up from his food to turn back to Jake. “What happened after she cornered you after class?”

“Cornered?” Sunghoon asked with sudden intrigue.

To state his concerns as vaguely as possible, Jake groaned feebly into his hands and said, “I’m in deep shit, you guys.”

The two men were dumbfounded to hear Jake Sim, who had a shiny record of being a perfect son and perfect student all his life, make such a claim. (Well, perfect enough to make his parents proud; there were surely several imperfections that wouldn’t earn Jake his Perfect Son badge if they were ever to find out. Exhibit A: whatever was happening to him because of you.) Not once had he gotten a detention or even a warning. Jake was a poster child all his life, which was why he felt especially embarrassed that he was acting so shamefully when it came to you.

“You didn’t make her cry, right?” Jay asked.

“No!” he exclaimed. In fact, you almost made him cry. “I just…” He sighed and straightened up, his voice taking on an edge of seriousness. “You can’t tell Heeseung.”

Jay raised a brow. “What’d you do, throw a book at her?”

Sunghoon let out a low whistle. “Mommy’s Little Misogynist strikes again.”

“I got a boner, okay?” Jake blurted out, sick of their mindless assumptions, even though his confession was probably a one-way ticket to the deepest circle of Hell.

At first, there was silence. Then, a scream—an obnoxious, garbled sort of scream that Jake almost thought was a squawk. Sunghoon and Jay doubled over in laughter, dropping their sandwiches to swat at each other as they were unable to contain themselves. Jake sat there for a good two minutes, a deadpan expression on his face while he waited for them to calm down.

“A boner?” Sunghoon clarified, a Cheshire-like grin plastered across his face. “A stiffy? A hard-on? An erec—?”

“Okay, Merriam-Webster, I don’t need every single synonym,” Jake snapped. “But, yes, I’ve been getting hard during class because of her, it’s—”

Jay spluttered out, “Been—!” And then they exploded into a fit of laughter again, collapsing into each other and wheezing from the absolute joy of their friend’s humiliation. With tears now spilling from his waterline, Jay rose up and pointed a finger at Sunghoon in utter glee. “Multiple times!”

“Multiple times!” Sunghoon cried back, pounding his fist on the table.

Jake was not amused in the slightest. “Okay, I feel like you guys are just overreacting now.”

It took Sunghoon and Jay quite a few minutes to pull themselves together after laughing hysterically for what felt like forever, so Jake took it upon himself to steal a couple more of Jay’s fries as revenge.

“It’s fine, dude, seriously,” Sunghoon placated, as if he hadn’t been losing it moments earlier. He sucked in a deep breath to collect himself while Jay’s shoulders were still shaking.

“You guys were just making fun of me!”

“Did we laugh? Yes. Do we think you’re kind of a freak? Also yes.” Sunghoon shrugged. “But do we have your back? No.”

At that, Jay straightened up. “I think you messed that up.”

“I think so, too.”

“I’d assume we do have his back.”

“Should I change it to—”

“Okay! I get what you’re saying—very heartwarming, I think,” Jake interjected. “But am I seriously in the wrong here? No matter how much Y/N pisses me off sometimes, I’d never want to disrespect her. It feels weird, you know… getting hard over her, of all people. I mean, she’s Heeseung’s sister!”

“So you popped a boner over her—who cares?” Sunghoon placated. Jake fought back the urge to roll his eyes; they clearly cared when they were cackling like hyenas. “I’ve gotten hard in situations I probably shouldn’t get hard in. It happens to the best of us. It’s fine.”

“What kind of situations?” Jake questioned.

“Don’t spin this on me. This is about you popping a boner to your best friend’s sister, you freak.”

“But you said it was fine!”

“That was before you pissed me off. Now I’ve changed my mind: Heeseung’s gonna kick your nasty ass straight to Hell.”

Frustrated, Jake tugged a hand through his dark hair. “Jay, do you have anything to contribute? Preferably anything that shuts Sunghoon up.”

“I knew this day would come.” Jay wiped the stray tears from under his eyes with his thumb. “See, Jake, when a man and a woman, or a man and a man, or a woman and a woman, or a person and a per—”

“Yes, I’m aware of all the possibilities on the spectrum,” Jake interjected. “Continue.”

“When a man and a woman love each other very much, they—”

“Oh my God,” Jake cut in once again, digging the heels of his palms into the hollows of his eyes. “I’m a grown man. I don’t need the sex talk—and I’m not gonna have sex with her, either!”

“You’re not?”

“No!”

“You don’t think she’s hot?”

“Well—I… I mean—that’s no reason—”

“You’re not getting a boner over someone you’re not physically attracted to, that’s for sure,” Jay said, clearly tired of his friend by now.

“I’m calling for plausible deniability,” Jake announced.

“Implausible. Vetoed.”

“Wait,” Sunghoon chimed in before looking at Jay, “how did you not notice?”

“Notice what?”

“His boner, dude.”

“Are you crazy? I have better things to do than stare at Jake’s dick all class,” Jay answered. Recollection seemed to hit him like a slap, his hand raising halfway to his mouth. “Actually… now that I think about it, I did think it was weird that you sat back down before you finished your debate… and your legs were crossed for the rest of class!”

(“So you did stare at Jake’s dick all class,” Sunghoon said.)

Jake threw him a withering look. “Yeah, I know. That’s probably why she caught me.”

Sunghoon’s jaw froze mid-bite, and without any respect to the onions that were falling off his bread, he dropped his sandwich and exclaimed, “She caught you?” Jay, who was equally as shocked, seemed to also be struggling to hide how gleeful he was about the drama.

“Well, almost,” he corrected. “It was more of a suspicion, but I didn’t give in—and I called her a pervert! It feels good to win.”

“Cool! What’d you win?” The unexpected voice nearly made Jake jump; thanks to years of working on a collected composure, though, chills ran up his spine instead. Sunghoon and Jay were both caught off guard, too, judging by their nearly imperceptible jolts that had them pulling their shoulders back.

He turned to see you with a hand on your hip, a curious smile on your lips. If his expression didn’t give it away, surely knocking over Jay’s curly fries was a sure sign of Jake’s nervousness.

“Uh… League? League match—nothing important—yeah, um… so—what’re you—what’re you doing here?”

Real smooth, Jake.

Jay, who looked as if the scene before him was physically painful to witness, valiantly chimed in to save Jake’s skin, “Are you looking for Heeseung? He already left for his tournament.”

“Nope,” you said, walking over to stand behind Jake so you could card your fingers through his hair. He remained frightfully still and tried not to think about your fingernails against his skin. Your sharp, manicured fingernails… dragging across his—okay, his mind really needed to stop wandering. “I have a quiz next class, so I came here to ask for a calculator. I just need it for my next class.”

Jake’s TI-83 was most definitely tucked away in his backpack, but he was reluctant to move with the way you were running your fingers through his hair. Albeit how he had to fight to keep his mind out of the gutter, Jake could also admit that this was rather… soothing. He could stay like this all afternoon and he wouldn’t mind at all.

Sunghoon started, “Oh, I’ve got—”

“I got it,” Jake, with a deep edge of unease, spoke over his friend. Sunghoon didn’t seem to look upset about being cut off, though; in fact, the senior was trying to hide a growing smirk that he had to cover with his hand. Jake dug into his backpack, sifting through each of the pockets haphazardly, before pulling out his graphing calculator and handing it to you. “You can just give it back to me later.”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll find an opportunity,” you replied before turning on your heel. “See you guys later!”

After their goodbyes, the three boys lapsed into silence. Jake wondered if they were all thinking about that interaction with you and how strange it was. The three of them took high school graduation pictures with you, went over for Thanksgiving dinner at your house, and even awkwardly lingered about in Victoria’s Secret while you were trying on bras—but this? This change in behavior was something none of them would’ve ever expected from you.

Sunghoon was the first to break the silence, saying, “That was weird.”

“Indeed,” Jay agreed, perplexed.

“She was all over you,” Sunghoon observed. “Like, I’m almost convinced that Y/N was replaced with a horny clone last night.”

“Jake, at this rate, you might—”

“Don’t say it,” Jake pleaded. “Don’t say anything about me and her. I swear, I just need to get back on Tinder or something, and I’ll forget all about Y/N—probably.”

Jay gave his shoulder a weak punch. “Yeah, I believe you, man.”

He did not, however, sound like he believed in his friend at all.

Jake didn’t quite fit the partying archetype.

Heeseung was a social butterfly, Jay and Sunghoon could get by as long as they could slip away to recharge from time to time, but Jake always looked for a way to get out of such events. Whether it was a project or a supposed family emergency, he played any card he could—although it was usually a fruitless attempt. Plus, Jake was strictly herbal; he wasn’t a big drinker like his friends were, especially when it came to his mortal enemy (Everclear).

So, now, while he was watching you stumble down your driveway to get into the passenger seat of his car, Jake was already trying to do the math in his head to calculate when he’d be back in the comfort of his room.

Tonight, you were dressed up a little more than usual. Your strappy black stilettos were dangerously high, and paired with the little black skirt that stopped halfway down your thighs, Jake found it difficult to pull his gaze away from you.

“How’re you getting back home?” he asked as he pulled out of your driveway. Jake recalled several occasions where Heeseung had to do a U-turn to pick you up from Kazuha’s, so he was quite familiar with the route. “Uber?”

“—and he was trying to get with me, even though I know he has a girlfriend! Isn’t that crazy? I literally have the same lab section as her, like, I could walk up to her and tell her everything. Are men just stupid? Like, I can literally ruin his relationship—I mean, he pretty much did that on his own—but I could just expedite the process, you know? Ugh, and he wasn't even cute—so mid, like, not my type at all,” the lilting voice through your phone kept rattling on.

You shot Jake an apologetic look before you kept trying to calm down Hanni Pham, who he often saw you with. Well, he supposed small talk was out of the question now, which Jake didn’t mind one bit. Still, lowering the volume of Kendrick Lamar’s new album just to listen to Hanni’s incessant ranting for the rest of the ride was starting to drive Jake insane.

Finally, you made a quick excuse to Hanni before ending the call, and Jake waited a few more moments before he raised the volume again. He kept his eyes trained on the road, for if they wandered in your direction, Jake was sure he wouldn’t get away with crossing his legs in this situation.

“You didn’t have to hang up,” he said.

“I didn’t?” You gave him a knowing look. “You kept looking over at me like you were in agony, so I thought I’d put you out of your misery.”

A sheepish grin tugged at the corners of his lips. “Thanks for that. Who’s the guy she was talking about, anyway?”

“Wow, so now you wanna hear more?”

He shrugged. “You could at least repay me for the ride by entertaining me.”

“Entertaining you?” This time, you were grinning. Jake felt a bit nervous as you leaned over the center console. “If you want entertainment, then come to Kazuha’s with me.”

“Really?” Jake kept his tone light as he looked for street parking, and then he pulled over to the sidewalk to let you out. You had the door half-open, looking at him expectantly. “I’ll pass, then. Have fun.”

You leveled him with a glower. “You’re seriously not coming?”

“I’ve got, uh, homework.”

“Homework? It’s a Friday night, Jake. Just do it over the weekend.”

“Just get inside already, Y/N. It’s cold.”

“Fine,” you said, curt. There was little gratitude in your tone when you added, “Thanks for the ride,” and flung the door shut, too.

Jake sat back with a sigh, hoping that the solitude would aid in unclouding his judgement. He couldn’t just go to that party with you; things were weird between you two, and that was only putting it as simply as he could. But, on the other hand, maybe he should’ve just gone. There was no harm in showing face for a while, and it wasn't like Kazuha was a complete stranger, either.

He let one opportunity fall right through his fingers; another presented itself right in front of Jake.

Your phone.

You left it on the seat before you left, whether it was intentional or not. The polaroid of you, Hanni, and Danielle showed through the back of its clear case, and Jake stared at your (admittedly charming) smile before he unbuckled his seatbelt in defeat.

One hour. That was all he’d give himself in there.

He was sure the duration of his decision-making process wouldn’t keep him from catching up to you in time, but that wasn’t the case at all. Jake couldn’t spot you at all, not even after he did a lap around the first floor. You must’ve noticed your phone was missing by now, so where were you?

Cramped, narrow hallways. Blaring music. Flashing lights. Sweaty people packed together. The lingering stench of booze.

It was dreadful.

Jake had to take a break in the kitchen, leaning against the countertop where someone’s bluetooth speaker was blowing out his eardrums. To his knowledge, Kazuha was renting next to an elderly couple with low tolerance for noise. How she could get away with throwing parties like these was beyond Jake.

“Oh, shit,” a familiar voice called out. “You’re here, too? Thank fuck.”

Jake turned to see Choi Beomgyu walking over to him, cradling a red solo cup. Perfect. Jake was dreading the very idea of being sober right now, and he knew Beomgyu would have the fix he needed. Last time he saw Beomgyu, the guy was canisters deep in whippets; it would’ve been impossible to tell he was conscious if his hand didn’t keep inching inside of Jake’s bag of chips.

“I was supposed to sell Yeonjun some weed, but where the fuck is he?” Beomgyu went on to complain, setting his empty cup down and flicking it across the counter with little care. “When’d you get here? Just now?”

“Yeah, have you seen Y/N?” Jake shouted over the music. Beomgyu gave him a little shake of the head, and a weary breath escaped Jake’s lips. His eyebrows lifted as he then suggested, “Smoke break?”

“Hell yeah.”

It just so happened that Jake was already breaking his one hour rule. At one minute past his self-mandated curfew, he was not in a state to be driving at all.

All thanks to Beomgyu, he was blazed out of his mind now, moving through the house with an air of indifference this time. Normally, Jake felt like his brain was buzzing constantly, like a hurricane that never stopped raging. But when that sweet Mary Jane filled his lungs, he felt more in control of himself. It felt almost as if he was underwater, weightless and drifting along with the current. For someone who swam desperately his whole life, he liked that he could just float.

And, because the universe apparently decided that weed was the answer to all of Jake’s problems, he eventually wandered back into the kitchen and found you.

Minor problem: There was a man right next to you.

But Jake, floating about in a blissful daze, strolled right up to you without a second thought about interrupting your conversation.

“... fucked up how she curves, it’s usually—oh, what the hell?” You did a double-take when you saw Jake walk up beside you, noticing his red and glassy eyes almost instantly. Your attention was immediately pulled from the unmemorable man beside you, which was not good because this was a horrible time to stroke Jake’s ego, and you grabbed onto the sleeve of his leather jacket. He took a step back to avoid your drink sloshing onto his clothes. “I thought you went home!”

Another minor (or maybe major) problem that Jake forgot about prior to his smoke break: Weed only made it easier for him to get turned on.

That—coupled with standing so close to you—was sure to be disastrous.

“Changed my mind, I guess,” he answered. “Were you two busy? I can leave.”

“Oh, uh, we were just talking,” you said, looking between Jake and the other dude (whose name still remained a mystery) a couple of times before clearing your throat. The guy, who earlier had a hopeful glint in his eyes, seemed to wilt a bit. In a more cheerful tone, you added, “He’s an old classmate. We both had Robbins for O-chem.”

Robbins for O-chem. Sounded like a cheap excuse to talk you up, was what Jake thought. Last year he had physics with Kim Minji, but he wasn’t cornering her in the living room to talk about the good old days of wave mechanics.

Jake gave you a smug look. “Robbins? What was that about the curve, then?”

“Someone scored a hundred and screwed the rest of us up.” You scoffed. “Always that one kid.”

“Ah. That was me.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, that’s why I didn’t show anyone my score—except Jay, but he said he felt sick looking at it.”

“I feel sick hearing about it. You should’ve just kept that to yourself forever.”

That was the plan, actually, but Jake strangely felt the need to impress you in comparison to Background Character #1 and his unremarkable presence. Well, considering all he achieved was pissing you off, he supposed it wasn’t going too well.

“That was the plan.” Slightly miffed, he leaned back against the counter with his arms folded over his chest. “But I earned that hundred. I didn’t sleep for three whole days to study for that final.”

“Oh, boo-hoo. I stayed up, too—and got a sixty.”

Jake simply shrugged. “You passed the class, didn’t you? That’s all that matters.”

“Easy for you to say! You got a perfect score!”

“I don’t think that—”

But you weren’t backing down, cutting Jake off to ask, “What’d you put for the cyclobutene question?”

Jake scowled at you. He thought one or two drinks in your system would calm you down, the same way weed did for him, but you were pushier than ever.

By now, he also realized that Guy-whose-face-he-now-forgot was long gone. He probably realized that there was no hope in trying to hit on you after seeing how your full attention was captivated by Jake. He wasn’t trying to boast—he was just calling it like he saw it.

“Seriously? That was a whole year ago, Y/N.”

He felt the weight of your incredulous stare. “But you remember your answer, don’t you?”

To be honest, he did.

“Conrotatory ring opening under thermal conditions,” he answered after a minute of spacing off to remember what he put down (and ignore your blatant staring). “Four pi electrons.”

“Wait, no, then it wouldn’t follow the Woodward-Hoffman rules. 4n would be antiaromatic in the transition state, so it would be forced to be a disrotatory mo—”

“Nope, the 4n system makes it conrotatory. Disrotatory would misalign the orbitals. Dude, I’m telling you, I remember it perfectly. I drew it out and everything.”

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, and Jake found great pleasure in watching you flounder for a response. Moreover, he was starting to imagine very dangerous things that involved his body pressed up against yours—preferably somewhere private, but he was almost tempted to pull you closer right now.

“But… but then the cis product—”

“Stays as is,” Jake finished for you. “I can even draw the diagram for you. I’m sure there’s a paper and pen somewhere.”

“Ugh, don’t bother. I’m pissed off.” You shook your head, frustrated, and a lazy smile stretched across Jake’s face. “Why are you so smart when…”

It took him a moment to even notice that you stopped in the middle of your sentence, dragging the syllabus an octave deeper than usual. Jake thought that he finally pushed you to your limit, that you were going to stop talking to him altogether, but the reality was much, much worse.

You jabbed your elbow sharply into his side, hard enough to make him wince in pain.

“Okay, ow. What’s—?” Then he looked down.

Oh.

Jake’s lips parted, framing an apology that he couldn’t bring himself to utter. He was caught somewhere between alarm and shame, hardly able to move as the cold reality sank in that you just saw his growing bulge.

It was dark enough so that only you were aware of it, but fuck, Jake couldn’t even get himself out of this one.

He looked down at you to say something—anything that would save him from this horrible situation, really—but there were no words to explain himself. Jake looked helplessly to the side for some escape route out of this situation, or perhaps even his Deus ex Machina: Beomgyu. Before he could open his mouth, you smoothly stepped in front of Jake, effectively cornering him in the kitchen and shielding him from onlookers.

Heroic, truly—except your thigh was now pressing firmly against the tent in his pants.

His blood ran cold when he saw the twinkle in your eyes, as if you were getting a kick out of this. Meanwhile, Jake made a mental apology to Jay and Sunghoon, who were going to be very disappointed that Jake didn’t take any steps toward forgetting all about you. It proved rather difficult when you were as intoxicating as the drugs in his system.

“I fucking knew it,” you whispered, triumph tugging your lips into a smirk. “You were hard during class today, too, weren’t you?”

This time, Jake was the one at a loss for words, flailing for any excuse that would defuse the tension, but he was already a lost cause. In less than twenty-four hours, Jake managed to expose his deepest, darkest secret to the one person who was never supposed to find out. All he could do now was accept slow, torturous suffering as the jaws of social suicide ripped into him.

“Y/N, p-please, I can—”

You threw your head back to laugh, delighted. “What? Are you trying to apologize for a boner?”

He stammered, “No—I mean, yes—but… I…” One more brush of your leg against his clothed cock had Jake holding onto your shoulders, trying to keep his lust at bay. “Y/N, stop. You’re Heeseung’s sister.”

“Excellent observation. Wouldn’t have figured that one out.”

“I mean, this”—he gestured between him and you—“isn’t gonna work out.”

You blinked. “Why not?”

“W-what do you mean, why not? Heeseung and I have been friends for years. I can’t just… I can’t do that to—”

“Oh, give it a rest. Why are you even bringing him up right now?” you asked in a snippy voice, waving his qualms off.

“Because—”

“Anyway, I’ve put together a little theory, and I think I’m right.”

Jake raised his brows at that, slightly intrigued to what you could’ve possibly pieced together in the past twelve hours. If it had anything to do with why he was getting turned on, he was certain that you would be completely off the mark.

“You get horny when we argue, don’t you?” you asked.

Oh, so you were spot on. Fantastic.

He let out a desperate, wanting breath, trying to cover it up as a sound of misery. The kitchen was mostly cleared out since everyone gathered in the living room to play beer pong, but Jake lowered his voice to speak, anyway.

“Pretty much. Nothing sexual—just attracted to the mind, is all. Debates can be stimulating, you know?”

“Nothing sexual about your dick getting hard?”

In a rather strangled voice, he answered, “Normal physiological reaction, really.”

He felt your hand smooth over his chest, your fingers splaying out before you dragged your hand lower and lower. He shivered as he felt your fingertips run across his abs, tracing each groove of muscle before your hand dipped to the front of his pants. Jake screwed his eyes shut when your palm pressed against his stiff, aching cock.

You simpered. “Really? So you don’t need my help getting you off?”

He suppressed a growl at the back of his throat, opting to loop his fingers in your belt loops and pull you closer instead. “Don’t.”

“Hm?”

“Not here. We’re in public.”

But your other hand was snaking around his neck, playing with the ends of his dark hair that fell to his nape. Jake could feel his body trembling as he restrained himself from holding you close and kissing you like his life depended on it.

I shouldn’t, he told himself, forcing the words to burn into his skull (and still, they would not stick). I shouldn’t, I shouldn’t, I shouldn’t—

But, fuck, the way you were looking at him. It was enough to drive a sane man to the brink of madness.

Well, Jake presumed he had always been a bit out of his mind when it came to you.

After an unsteady breath, Jake slid one hand up your waist, up your arm, and then across your shoulder to hold your neck. Your chest swelled before you leaned into his touch. Jake found his thumb straying from where his hand cradled your jaw. He traced the outline of your lips with careful precision, charting each curve and line in his course.

He kissed you once, light and fleeting—just enough to taste you.

The sweet second of contact lost its grace soon after. He wet his lips, chasing what was left of your lipstick. With one more look into your eyes, all the nerves that gripped him seemed to melt away in a breath. Jake held your gaze before reaching up to hold the sides of your face and pulling you in for a searing kiss. It had been merely one taste—one press of his lips against yours—and jagged splinters of desperation tore into him, burying deep in his flesh.

Jake, with a heavy heart, wished he could formally apologize to everyone who was bearing witness to their sloppy makeout session. He simply couldn’t help that you were both intoxicated, turned on, and extremely riled up from bickering. He shoved his tongue past your lips, messy and eager, sating a hunger that had him starved for longer than he thought.

It soon slipped Jake’s mind entirely that he was making out with you in the kitchen. His cock throbbed in his jeans, pulsating each time your hips made contact with his. You were slowly rolling your hips over his—subtle enough to go undetected, but it was driving him wild. Honestly, though, if Jake truly wanted to stop you from moving against him that way, he would’ve let go of your hip by now.

You were an insanely good kisser. Jake felt a small pang of jealousy upon recollecting all the times he witnessed you kissing someone before him—your first boyfriend, your senior prom date, your college situationships. He never thought too deeply about how he felt in the moment, but it was like he had locked up all those messy feelings bordering on jealousy. They were all spilling out now, like a crack in the dam, threatening to make Jake feel something for you that he hadn't felt before.

He broke from the kiss to leave gentle pecks along your jawline and down your neck, each one leaving you sighing happily. “Let’s go upstairs, yeah?” he whispered against the shell of your ear, leaving a featherlight kiss in its wake. His drawl was stronger when he lowered his voice to a murmur, “Don’t go shy on me now, sweetheart.”

“Shy? I’m not shy.”

“Oh, yeah? Look me in the eyes, then.”

“Shut… shut up—and follow behind me, unless you want everyone here seeing your di—”

“Okay, that’s enough.”

You, being his knight in shining armor now, led the way upstairs, allowing for Jake to stand directly behind you and hide his boner. He kept his arms wrapped loosely around your waist, trying to focus on anything but the nape of your neck. Having his bulge pressed up against your body was making his senses go haywire.

(Also—and he wasn’t quite brave enough to admit this to himself just yet—he kind of wanted to lace his fingers with yours.)

Jake hastily wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He was sure he must’ve looked like an absolute douchebag walking around like that, considering the amount of lipstick he had just rubbed off.

The first empty room was theirs for the taking. Jake sported a wolfish grin as he closed the door to whoever’s bedroom they locked themselves in. You, however, looked uncertain.

“I’d feel bad doing it on their bed,” you confessed.

Jake, who didn’t realize he was going to encounter a moral dilemma amidst getting his dick wet, blinked slowly.

“That’s true,” he agreed. Sure, yeah, he would probably kill his friends if any of them hooked up with someone in his bed. Jake made his way to you slowly; at first, you didn’t budge, but then you let him walk you backward once he grabbed your hips. “I wouldn’t feel as bad doing it against their wall, though.”

Your fingers tugged at the hem of his shirt, as if you were about to peel it right off him. “Then how about I suck you off first? Make up for all those debates?”

“Really?” he spluttered out, gawking at you as you turned him around so that his back was against the wall.

You hastily undid the buttons on his jeans, all the while maintaining eye contact with him. “You’re too cute. Don’t tell me you weren’t waiting for this.”

His gaze darkened slightly.

He joined you immediately in getting rid of his pants. Jake couldn’t help but let out a blissful sigh as he pulled his boxers down and his cock sprang up. Seeing you slide down to your knees to wrap your hands around his length nearly made his knees buckle under him. His hand moved to the back of your head, tangling his fingers through your hair.

Just like that, Jake Sim lost all willpower to keep himself away from Lee Heeseung’s sister.

“I don’t know if I can fit all of it in my mouth,” you told him, lips ghosting the tip of his cock.

“That’s okay, baby.” He tightened his grip in your hair. “Take however much you can.”

You started with a gentle kiss to his tip, and it was enough to make Jake shudder. He watched you in wonderment, eyes glued to your mouth and how his cock disappeared past your lips. With one hand holding onto his hip for leverage, you ducked your head to lick from base to tip, running your tongue along a rather thick vein that wrapped around the side.

Jake was thankful for the pounding music below; although he prided himself on his self-control (prior to Y/Ngate), he was never good at being quiet in the throes of pleasure. Slowly, you sucked on the tip, earning a drawn-out moan from Jake that he hardly bothered muffling.

And then, you were hollowing your cheeks to take more of him in, and a flicker of intensity flashed in his eyes when he felt his cock hit the back of your mouth. Jake had to hold onto the nearby dresser for support, his knuckles going white. You gagged a little as his head brushed against your uvula, and then a few tears sprang in your eyes.

Jake watched them pool at your waterline, and he wiped at them with his thumb, cooing at you sympathetically.

“Just like that, baby,” he murmured, stifling a groan. He closed his eyes and tightened his grip on the back of your head to thrust into your mouth—careful, experimental. “Ah—fuck, your mouth feels so fucking good.”

Despite the unbelievably erotic image of you blowing him, Jake could also detect some smugness. As you bobbed your head, each motion driving Jake closer and closer to a release, you could pick up on the effect you were having on him.

His eyes, glazed over with lust, were threatening to roll back, but he was determined to keep them on you now. He couldn’t get enough of watching how you were taking him in, how you were so quick to pleasure him.

Then, as Jake felt heat burning under his skin, he gently pulled back, holding your jaw securely to keep you from chasing his cock. You looked up at him with a frown, head cocked to the side.

“What’s wrong?” you asked as he wordlessly helped you back up to your feet.

Jake switched your positions, backing you into the wall again. He slid his hand under your thigh, pulling it up so that your leg wrapped around his hip.

“My turn,” he said. “I’d rather be inside you when I cum.”

A needy little moan escaped your lips, and suddenly the both of you were a mess of hands, clawing and tearing to get each other’s clothes off. You yanked at Jake’s shirt, shoving it up and over his head, and he didn’t let it go unnoticed that your gaze dropped to the lines of his chest. You didn’t get much time to ogle, though, because Jake was quick to get rid of your clothes next, even snapping your bra off in one go. Your underwear, however, was pulled down with slow reverence. Jake had to take a minute to admire your breathtaking body in all its glory.

He never imagined this. All this overwhelming passion. Your body pressed flush against his—no walls up between either of you.

Jake almost felt like all of this was dreamlike as his finger skimmed your folds, moving to rub your clit in a slow, languid motion. A shaky whine fell from your lips.

“You’re already soaked, sweetheart,” he said. He slipped a finger inside you as you were opening your mouth, and your words died on your tongue. “You’re just as filthy as me, aren’t you?”

All he got in response was another petulant whine, like music to his ears. Jake added another finger, pumping it inside you while his thumb pressed against your clit. You squirmed in his hold, but Jake held you steady, keeping you pinned to the wall as he fingered your cunt.

“I thought about this so many times,” you gasped out, much to Jake’s surprise. He raised a brow while speeding up his ministrations. This only made it harder for you to get your words out coherently, so it took you a while to add, “Thought about you fucking me after those stupid arguments, just like this.”

Jake, a simple man, wasn’t built to handle such words; he would’ve come on the spot, untouched, if he wasn’t so eager to bury his cock in you.

Jake guided his cock to your slit, and the two of you moaned simultaneously as he pushed inside you. The room went a little fuzzy for a moment—something high-pitched seemed to be ringing in his ears—and then Jake’s hips met yours, drawing shuddering breaths and whimpers from you two.

Shit. He felt like he was on fire and your every moan was ice.

Caging you in his grip, he gave a shallow thrust, rousing a gasp from you. In turn, your leg curled tighter around his hip. Jake had to bury his face in your neck to suppress his groans, his hot breath fanning your skin as he littered kisses and bites along your supple skin. He just hoped your makeup could conceal the marks that were blooming along the tender column of your neck.

Another thrust—deeper, this time. He seemed to hit a spot that sent stars glittering behind your eyelids, judging by the dazed look that clouded your expression.

“M-more,” you begged, your voice catching on the end of the sentence.

"More? You want more?"

Your response came out in a breath. "Please."

Your hand threaded into his hair, pulling him down for another kiss, like it was all you could hold onto. The position your leg was in was strained at this angle, but you didn’t seem to care, clawing at Jake’s back to keep him closer.

His tongue slipped into your mouth without hesitation, and he was pretty sure he was getting drunk off the liquor on your tongue. Slowly, like he was taking off the training wheels, Jake’s hips started to move at a steady rhythm—shallow thrusts going deeper and deeper.

As Jake relentlessly thrusted into you, he left no place untouched, each stroke dragging inside you a little longer. It drew out the prettiest whines from you, so he couldn’t help but tease you a little longer. His otherwise consistent rhythm, however, faltered as you clenched around him tightly.

“I-I’m close,” you gasped out, pulling from the kiss to watch where his cock disappeared inside you.

“I've got you, sweetheart,” he replied gently, honey dripping from his words, and Jake held you tightly in his arms as he sped up his pace to bring you closer to your orgasm.

He was getting there, too—real close, actually. Jake felt like he was unravelling, his nerve endings alight, skin buzzing, and his breath trapped in his lungs. With a couple more thrusts, you shattered with his name on your lips, crying over the music. Jake had to cover your mouth with his hand to keep you quiet, but he couldn’t deny that he was loving how responsive you were. He followed after you with a loud groan, making sure to pull out before his cum spilled all over his hands.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Jake watched as your chest rose and fell for a couple of minutes. He tried to ground himself—convince himself that what just happened wasn’t a dream.

For the rest of the night, neither of you addressed how the next kiss held something deeper—something that reached beyond lust. Jake was sure you felt it, too, lingering like a secret between your lips, but he wouldn’t dare give that feeling a name just yet.

“Jake would be the type to catch feelings after hooking up.”

Park Sunghoon was the one to make this outrageous statement, effectively snapping Jake out of whatever dreamy daze he was in. Ever since he had sex with you hours ago, Jake couldn’t stop thinking about how you felt around him. He thought FaceTiming his friends would help clear his mind, but he was starting to believe that they were, in fact, the problem.

He didn’t return home immediately. Jake had to pretend like he didn’t just blow your back out when he went downstairs to talk to Kazuha and her very drunk roommates. One of them was so obviously flirting with Jake that you cornered him later to leave a prominent hickey on his collarbone. Then, after he sobered up enough to drive you home, you didn’t seem to have your heart set on getting back; you requested that Jake stop at a parking lot on two separate occasions (during a fifteen minute drive) so that he could eat you out in the backseat.

After that, there was a lot more kissing on the way to your doorstep, a lot of heavy petting as he carried you to your room, and you graciously offered to ride him before he drove back home.

When Jake recounted all of this to Jay and Sunghoon, he left to get himself a midnight snack because they were laughing their heads off for a record-breaking amount of time. It started to feel like a humiliation ritual.

At the end of the call, Jay spouted some bullshit like, “Heeseung won’t even care, trust me.”

Jake refused to even consider that as a possibility, but he vowed to keep his distance from you to make sure last night wouldn’t happen again. (It was important to note that he laughed right after because even he couldn’t believe that.)

Despite the shame that bubbled in Jake’s gut, he had to honor the commitment he made to Heeseung, even though it was a terrible idea to see you again. (No, it’s a wonderful idea! those feel-good neurotransmitters in his stupid, horny brain argued. Viagra in your future! Always prioritize sex! Get laid quick!) So, the next day, there he was—at 5:00 p.m. sharp—parked outside of your house with a sinking feeling that you were going to greet him in a way that would make your older brother faint on the spot.

The sky was splotched with peach and lavender, like a watercolor painting that dried into soft, muted hues. There was a dreamy glow out on the horizon, but when Jake turned to see you walking out of his house, there was the sun—ablaze with brilliant light.

Your eyes caught, and he felt suspended in time for a few seconds. Jake’s stupid, pathetic heart pumped out blood a bit too quickly.

Something was off, though.

You were wearing cotton shorts and an oversized t-shirt with Snoopy printed on the front—more fitting for a sleepover than a charity event, no offense. Jake understood that plenty of people prioritized comfort in their outfit choices; although he was quite surprised that you, of all people, would fall in that category. He recalled that blink-182 concert where he had to take turns with Sunghoon to give you a piggyback ride back to the parking lot because you were so damn adamant on wearing your death trap high heels. Your ankles, of course, suffered the consequences.

But maybe this was a good thing. Maybe this meant that you felt comfortable around him… and whoever else was going to be at that charity event, he supposed.

Would it be so wrong to ask for clarification on the event, though? But what if he came across like he was prying too deeply into your personal life?

No—he would not dare make one comment about it.

So he didn’t. Until he realized that he made a grave mistake.

“A Love Island watch party? Heeseung told me this was a charity event!” Jake exclaimed, utterly baffled.

“Yeah, the winners get a hundred grand,” you replied casually, as if you hadn’t been withholding crucial information that would’ve changed Jake’s mind about following you into the house. “Voting for your favorite couple is basically charity work, if you think about it.”

Jake groaned. This was a set-up, and he was not about to stay over at Danielle’s to watch Love Island, of all shows.

But then, you leaned over to press a chaste kiss to Jake’s cheek. “If you don’t vote for Nicolandria, you’re dead to me, by the way,” you whispered. Although your choice of words weren’t exactly tempting, Jake found himself unbuckling his seatbelt and following you into the house. The effect you had on him was absurd.

To his surprise, though, he was thoroughly entertained for the night. Sure, he was the only guy in a room full of girls that had enough Stanley cups to beat him to death, but Jake almost felt like he was in his element. When Kim Minji went on a five minute rant to explain why Nicolandria deserved to be the winning couple, Jake was so intrigued that he ended up agreeing to join their Love Island nights until the season ended.

(He later discovered that Love Island released a new episode five days a week, but that didn’t dash his plans to attend.)

In a tangled mess of feelings and desire, Jake was now making plans to keep seeing you. He only hoped that he could muster up the courage to tell his friend everything before things got serious with you.

Heeseung’s return didn’t change much, to be honest.

Jake was under the impression that he’d be far too paranoid to be messing around with you once your brother was back, but it seemed to be the exact opposite. He couldn’t get enough of you these days. Although you two were keeping things under wraps for now, Jake found it hard to not reach for your hand and think about how it would be if he could keep you by his side for longer. Whenever he woke up in your bed, he wanted time to freeze so that he could hold you until the moon came out again.

Oh, and their seminars.

You ended up proposing a solution to Jake’s problem. It wasn’t anything very sophisticated, but as soon as class ended, you’d be dragging Jake somewhere private to ease the tension growing in his jeans.

Or, when he was really done for, Jake would be the one pulling you along.

“No way,” you mouthed once as Jake grabbed your wrist right as soon as you walked out of the classroom. A smirk was creeping up your lips as you kept your eyes trained on him, effectively cracking through his impassive facade. Jake’s eyes flitted away before you could see any color bloom on his face. “Horny already? And to think I was holding back…”

Jake, who was too busy looking for the closest enclosed space that offered enough privacy, was walking so fast that you were nearly stumbling to keep up with him. He flung open the door to an empty lab. It seemed too risky to simply close the blinds when there was no lock on the door, but there was, however, an equipment room in the back. He pulled you over by the wrist, ushering you inside.

“Yeah,” he finally replied, turning the lock on the handle, “I was holding back, too.”

And then he fucked you against the door with one hand bruising your waist and the other wrapped around your throat.

He truly didn’t think this would be the course of his love life. Not that Jake was complaining, but he wished that being with you didn’t involve the daunting feat of confronting Heeseung. Not only could the interaction go disastrously, but Jake was terrified that Heeseung would look at him differently for going after his sister. He didn’t want to be the guy that Heeseung should’ve watched out for.

Jake willed himself to break the news to Heeseung after spending a Friday night with you, curled up on your bed and catching up on the latest season of Love Island. Jake had to admit that he was too deeply invested in the contestants’ storylines.

While he played with your hair, he heard you ask, “Can you ever see us dating? Like, officially going out?”

“Yeah,” he murmured back. “That’s the plan, isn’t it?”

The first time you told Jake you wanted things to get serious, he outright told you no. However, his body betrayed him when he nodded enthusiastically along with his refusal, making you even more confused. Now, though, Jake was determined to get that conversation with Heeseung out of the way. Leading you on would break his heart more than not getting your brother’s approval.

When Jake decided to fess up to Heeseung, though, he made sure Jay and Sunghoon were right with him. They knew how honest Jake’s intentions were—kind of—and they would surely have his back when it came down to it.

Unfortunately, he forgot that Jay and Sunghoon were the two worst people for this sort of situation.

“This is the worst boba consistency I’ve ever had,” Sunghoon complained, stabbing at the last of the boba pearls in his taro milk tea. “Sorry, Heeseung, what were you saying? You made the basket or whatever.”

(“Oh, Heeseung, I need to tell you something,” Jake mumbled as quietly as possible, although the wind successfully drowned him out.)

“Close—that would be basketball,” Heeseung replied. “But, yeah, I made the winning goal. Whoever wants to ride my dick is going on a waitlist.”

(“Speaking of…”)

“Shit. Put me on the waitlist,” Sunghoon said. “Priority reservation, please.”

(“Heeseung…”)

“I’ll get to you eventually, Twenty-Six.”

(“Heeseung?”)

Jay pounded a fist on the table. “Jake has something to say!” After witnessing his friend moping about and mumbling for so long, it was only a matter of time before he snapped.

Heeseung looked alarmed for a moment before asking, “What’s up?”

Jake only had a few seconds to shoot Jay a death glare before he had to fix his face and explain, “Right, um… I kind of have to tell you something.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s really not that bad if you think about it.”

“Okay…”

“And, actually, it should be more reassuring that it’s me and not—”

Heeseung scratched the side of his head. “Uh, I’m still gonna need context.”

“I’m, uh… so, I’m…” Jake sucked in a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “So, I’m kinda seeing Y/N.”

There it was. The truth was out and Jake could stop skirting around it. He knew it would be near impossible to keep hiding it because Jake discovered that he was becoming far more endeared by you with each coming day. Absolutely terrifying, really, considering that he was already endeared at an incomprehensible level.

Heeseung’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “You and Y/N?”

As if the whole thing couldn’t get any more awkward, you walked right out of the boba shop that the four of them were just in. To be fair, Heeseung was the one that called you over because he put in a request for a breakfast wrap after stalking your location, but of course you had to come out right this minute.

“Damn,” you said, scrunching your nose up in distaste. “Garbage boba consistency.”

“Right!” Sunghoon exclaimed. Jake was starting to think that he should’ve just met up with Heeseung on his own. “All I taste is disappointment when I drink this.”

Jake was petrified as Heeseung, completely unfazed by your arrival, stared at Jake in utter disbelief. He couldn’t peel his eyes away, even after you dropped his breakfast wrap onto the table in front of him. “Wait, hold on—before anyone says anything else—did you just say that you’re seeing Y/N? Y/N, my sister?” He practically flung his arm to point at you. “Her?”

Jake swallowed thickly, but you casually answered for him, “Yeah, he is.”

The air around him thickened, pressing down on his chest like a weight. Jake’s thoughts were spiraling by now, imagining countless scenarios of Heeseung dropping him as a friend and forever plagued by his betrayal. Jake knew his friend deeply, and he knew that when Heeseung was hurt, he’d—

“Nice,” Heeseung drawled, raising his fist so that you could fist-bump it. “About time, too.”

What?

“You’re not mad?” Jake blurted out, floored by the response. Now this was a turn of events that he didn’t prepare for in the countless scenes he practiced in his head.

“I asked you to drive her to Danielle’s for a reason, dude. She could’ve just taken an Uber.”

“Wait… you were in on this?”

“I wouldn’t say I was in on anything, but I knew she had a thing for you. I was just glad she’s interested in you and not, like, Sunghoon.”

“Hey,” Sunghoon piped up, sounding stung, but he seemed to recover quickly. “I’m saving myself for you, Heeseung.”

“Twenty-six—remember that.”

“See? I told you, you had nothing to worry about,” you said as you slid into the bench next to Jake, reaching over to squeeze his hands. “Now you can stop denying that it’s perfectly fine for us to date.”

“I guess I was a little in over my head.” Jake returned a sheepish—and frankly, lovesick—grin, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your temple. Now that Jake had you, despite his friends cringing before him, he didn’t want to let you go.

He could probably also admit to himself that he had liked you all along.

That, he supposed, was what Jay meant about implausible deniability.

AUTHOR'S NOTE ▸ the jake brainrot really got to me this time 🚬 thank you for reading this if you made it all the way here !! i'm so so grateful if you chose to give this fic a chance so i hope you enjoyed :') also contrary to how the summary sounds, jake is too babygirl for me to not make him a loverboy <33 i swear something about him just screams Yearning

TAG LIST ▸ @allthesqueaks @pshnoona @wvnkoi @dearestdreamies @notleclerc @nyxtwixx @sucrosxi @rubyunie @m1kkso @remgeolli @seokjinthescientist @zzzsunghoon @nithxhoon @radcustoms @katseye4mimi @niniissus @averieee19 @yuniesluv @hoonkishoe @choeryyxyz @fancypeacepersona @v1shwa-xo @vantxx95 @wonnieswife @heesdazed @k1ttyjwon @rosebarzallo @jakeslvt

#fuckkkk #shit bout to go down #fuck meeeeee #FUCK ME PLS #LETS FUCKING GO

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tsukheeshima · 1 day ago

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i love drunk hee so much u dont know it good lord even on my fics, i make him extraaaa extra adorbs and hot and cute and swrrt and clingy when hes under the influence hzjhcshgs I LOVE THIS

LIKE A TATTOO .☘︎ ݁˖ – 18 computer science with a side of beer and family trauma

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previous | next chapter | masterlist

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author's note: hai... long time no update... heh. i'm SORRY guys i've been so busy but i am BACK!! also, forgot to mention this in the last chapter but i wrote a behind smau of jake, you can read that here! also yes, idk if anyone noticed but the past 7 chapters took place within 48 hours LMFAOOOOO

TAGLIST [CLOSED]

⟢ @primroselover @deobitifull @sourkiki @heesexual74 @enhxlvr @jaysguitarstring @smlbch @likeafeverrr @lisamrrth @all4moi @itzbangchan333 @ddolleri @mheretoreadff @tbyangel @beomgyus11 @httpenhoon @jellymiki @juliejulesjule @luvnaomixo @lalalalawon @cripplinghooman @pandoraskisses @galbiyun @jjongsha @enhanoa @makeme1cream @yenienha @bambi-lia @dwusfg @teenagecheesecakereview @osakinanadesu @moonlitregulus @lys2hee @hoonieangel @norihoyeon @yuyita-rosier @lvvrikss @ellitheghost @vamphee @lionzyon @chaerinmin @jakeznii @hereforchifuyu @heejamas @wenomakiluvr @lovenha7 @jakessrealwife @val-luvs @haechology @iyoonjh

#lee heeseung #enhypen smau #heeseung #lee heeseung x reader #holy fuck #im having a moment

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tsukheeshima · 1 day ago

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hahaha heeseung 🤝🏻 me

fuck people, really. and fuck family who loves to play family all of a suddrn when ure already doing so fine on your own. i feel for him in this chapter so much. thank you for this @bambiens :)

LIKE A TATTOO .☘︎ ݁˖ – 17 unexpected visitor

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previous | next chapter | masterlist

warnings ⟢ profanity, family issues, mentions of mental illness (depression), mature themes/serious topics. please read with caution.

[word count: ~1.3k, 3 screenshots at the end] ignore timestamps!

the room stood still.

“cut the bullshit, i asked you what you were doing here,” heeseung snapped.

he stared at jay in the back, whose head remained down the entire time out of shame.

“why are you always like this,” the voice groaned, “what, i can’t visit my little brother?”

heeseung rolls his eyes. he turns around to flip the open sign to closed.

jay watches heeseung step towards his brother, checking into his shoulder maliciously as he walks towards the reception desk in an attempt to look busy.

heeseung’s brother clutches onto his shoulder teasingly, “ouch.”

heeseung finally looks up at him now, “what do you want heedo?” his brother turns his head over his shoulder, body still stationary, “i know you don’t give a shit about me, did mom and dad send you over?” heeseung spat.

heedo lee, heeseung’s brother, the first-born son, the overachiever, the stellar child, the child that every parent wanted, the child that made all of his peer’s parents’ compare their kids to – the one heeseung’s own parents constantly compared him to.

ever since heeseung had been born, all he could remember was the unspoken rivalry he had with his older brother. throughout every life stage, he had always been right behind him – never in front; “look at your brother, he doesn’t get into any trouble doesn’t he?” “your brother was valedictorian, what are you?” “your brother is taking over the business soon, and you? you just want to draw shit and play with tattoo guns like this is some kind of fucking joke.”

your brother, your brother, your brother – god, heeseung was sick of it. hearing that over and over again felt like listening to a broken record play on repeat, unable to drown out the sound no matter how hard he tried.

but heeseung will admit, there was once a time where he tried to amount to his brother’s success. he tried. but the gap between them just kept growing and growing until he finally gave up trying to be on par with him. when his parents realized he had given up, all he got in return was inexplicable disappointment, just taunt after taunt, always reminding heeseung of what he’ll never be; his older brother.

“i’m here for business, they asked me to check up on your little… shop,” heedo replied mockingly, choosing the perfect words to say to try to belittle heeseung, “see if you were still alive and well or what not.”

heeseung rolled his eyes, again, “well, you’ve seen me right? i’m still here, doing the same shit. now you can go report back to dad like you always do you fucking lackey – could’ve just sent me a text.”

heedo just laughs at his words, turning around to face heeseung fully, “not that easy, they wanna stay up to date with you – they want me to see what you’ve been up to.”

heeseung hated how smug and unfazed his older brother was. even if heedo wasn’t doing anything on purpose, he constantly felt inferior within his presence. so he gave in, tried to be the bigger person this time – tried to not always act like this incompetent little kid he always felt like.

he pauses before he replies, “fine. we can talk over dinner.”

.☘︎ ݁˖

heeseung sat there playing with his dinner; shuffling his food to the side of the plate with his fork, slumped over the table – the same way he did when he was 7 at family dinners.

of course, the one time he tried to take charge, his brother ended up taking over – insisted he drove his own car there, chose some stupid five-star michelin restaurant, and ordered the things only he liked, completely disregarding heeseung.

truthfully, heeseung had lost his appetite the second he walked into his shop. and the entire time the two of them waited for the food to come in silence, he had been beating himself up internally – wondering why he decided to try to act like the mature one in the first place.

so now, he was stuck there, flipping peas into the corner of the china while his brother took sips of wine from his glass.

heedo carefully placed his glass down and started cutting into his food, never looking up once, “they wanted me to ask if you were still taking your medication daily – and if you were still seeing that girl, the doctor or something.”

heeseung looked up though, “medication? yeah,” he turns his focus back to balancing two peas on top of each other, “my therapist? no. haven’t seen her in over a year. i don’t see the need to anymore.”

“you cured of your depression now or something?” heedo asked amusingly, as if this was some sort of entertainment for him.

heeseung glared at him, “no, just been away from you guys long enough.”

heedo paused, placing his cutlery to the side, swallowing his food, “why do you act like this?”

heeseung says nothing.

his brother continued, “you’ve always been so ungrateful – acting like you were living in misery and never had a choice. all you had to do growing up was listen to mom and dad. you didn’t want to work at dad’s, so they gave you an ultimatum instead to just finish university and get a degree – even if it was that useless arts degree. that’s all they wanted left from you.” heeseung’s eyes stayed fixated on him, still unspoken, “you didn’t even want to do just that. you chose to just take off from home one day like some fuckin’ stray cat. what was so wrong about your life, huh? i don’t get it.”

“of course you don’t get it.” heeseung muttered under his breath.

heeseung was sick of this. typical sibling outshining the other. he left home to get away from this, he didn’t leave just to get regular check-ups from his older brother whom he had resented his entire life.

heeseung even scoffed at the fact that his parents made his brother do all the work so they wouldn’t have to see him. this was useless. this was pointless.

heedo raised an eyebrow, “what?”

“my entire life, when mom and dad kept ridiculing and belittling me – you never said anything about it. you always sat there in the back, just letting them say all those things to me. you don’t care. you never did. so why and try act like it now? this is stupid. are you just doing this to earn even more brownie points from dad?”

heedo sat back on his chair with the same smug look he had on his face whenever heeseung got reprimanded by their parents growing up.

heeseung let the last word out before he got up and left in a rage, “some things just never fucking change.”

.☘︎ ݁˖

HEESEUNG’S GRADUATION, MAY 2021.

after the ceremony had concluded, heeseung remained sat on his seat, graduation cap still sitting on his head, diploma laying on his lap. even after the roaring crowd of his graduation class had subdued, he stayed in the same spot.

he stared at all the caps his peers hadn’t bothered to pick up, then looked up at all the parents hugging their children, holding flowers to commemorate a “new start” of their lives after high school – celebrating this milestone with them.

but heeseung had no one.

no one had bothered to show up to his graduation. not his parents, not his brother.

heeseung just sat there like he was waiting for something, waiting for someone to come – waiting for someone to care.

he felt a looming sadness wash over him after he came to the realization that no one was going to be there for him. no one ever will.

so he got up and drove himself home after everyone had left – knowing that no one would be there waiting for him when he got back.

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author's note: this chapter was so u guys could get some background info about heeseung’s character, i know most of u probably thought it was soobin or his “ex” oops plot twist!!!😅 also we are slowly… reaching the climax…. slowly tho.

TAGLIST [CLOSED]

#fuck trump

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tsukheeshima · 2 days ago

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tsukheeshima · 2 days ago

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maybe we should fuck again to find out

HELP?!?!?!?#^@&$^!&#^ HAHDHAH THATS so real.

hii could you do bsf riki and reader sharing a bed, and reader wants him super bad, so she pretends to have a wet dream while theyre sharing a bed to see if he wants her back/would help her get off🫣

──── DO YOU WANT IT TOO?

── 𝒲arnings / smut , p in v , masterbaiting , fingering , unprotected (ruh roh) , mention of feeling guilt and shame

ℛ ℐ ℛ ℐ is typing . . . 💬 ꪔ̤̮ i decided to go back to my old writing style that i used to do on my old wattpad account thats still up ( good luck finding it ) but yeah don’t be afraid to request more things while i work on some stories that will be coming soon !

YOU FELT FILTHY, disgusted even, with yourself. touching yourself while sharing a bed with your best friend, pretending like you’re having a wet dream about him.

but it wasn’t pretend, was it?

your fingers were moving with purpose. slow, hesitant— a rush of guilt crawling down to your core, almost making everything feel like heaven.

but the shape of his body next to you, the steady rhythm in the way he breathed, the soft sound he made when he moved just a bit. you’d memorized that sound, filing it away in your head for later. the days he was only a memory, a lingering memory for you and your hands to remember.

tonight, he was here. not a memory.

his arm draped across his pillow. so close to your cheek you could almost pretend he was reaching for you.

you shouldn’t have been looking. shouldn’t have noticed how his t-shirt rode up a bit to reveal a small sliver of bare skin above his boxers.

you were supposed to be his best friend. not this. and yet you didn’t stop.

not until you bit down on your bottom lip to stifle a moan. a moan that sounded all too much like his name.

you hadn’t even heard the shift in his breathing. too far gone — hips tilted, your hand buried beneath the thin blanket, mouth parting around a silent gasp as you tried desperately to stay quiet. every brush of your fingers sent a wave crashing through you. raw, wrong and so stupidly good.

then the mattress moved. too deliberately to be a toss in sleep.

his voice cut through the haze, low and not nearly as groggy as it should’ve been. “are you touching yourself?”

your blood turned to ice.

frozen, fingers still pressed between your thighs. caught in the act. your heart thudding loud enough to drown out every rational thought.

you didn’t answer.

couldn’t.

he shifted behind you. getting closer. he said something, a little quieter. quiet enough that you couldn’t decipher it.

all you could do was swallow and let your eyes stare into the darkness ahead of you. you could feel his body heat now. his breath grazed your shoulder making you shiver when he leaned in a bit more.

“i-i thought you were asleep.” you whisper, voice hoarse with shame.

“i was.” he exhaled, slow and steady. “until you started moaning my name.”

shame was thick and sharp in your throat as you repeatedly tried to drag out apologies. until he stopped you.

he didn’t use words to stop you. he sat up slightly, blanket shifting with him. you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. but then you felt his fingers on your wrist. gentle. firm.

he slid your damp hand out from beneath the blanket. cheeks burning, yet he didn’t let go.

still no words.

just moving your hand. bringing it to your chest. then lower. his body was warm, tense under your touch. and hard.

your lips parted. no sound came out.

softly, he kissed the corner of your jaw, just once. “do you want me now?”

you turned to face him. eyes wide, lip trembling as you nodded.

“yes.”

he didn’t hesitate. his hands were on you in the next second. his mouth was on yours. swallowing your guilt with the kind of kiss that made the world fall away.

his hand slid under the blanket. and this time it wasn’t a sinful, shameful thing. this time it was his fingers. not yours. easing between your thighs like they belonged there.

like they knew what they were doing.

and they did.

you moaned into riki’s mouth, his fingers finding how wet you are. he groans low in his throat, the feel of you soaked knocking something loose in him.

his fingers stroked through your folds, slow and confident, every pass brushing your clit just enough to make your thighs tremble. you couldn’t stop yourself from arching towards him, breath catching when he slid one thick finger inside you.

“you’re so fucking wet.” riki mutters, his voice gone dark and reverent. “jesus.”

your hips rolled into his hand, as he pushed deeper, curling that finger just right. and then another joined it, the stretch burning sweetly, your body clenched around him like you’d been waiting for this exact moment. you whimpered, burying your face against his shoulder.

he moved faster, his fingers fucking you with deep, wet sounds the filled the silence between your gasps.

“is this what you wanted…?” he whispers to you, his voice soft despite the dirty words coming out his mouth. “me, inside you like this?”

you nodded frantically, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. “yes— god, yes—”

you rocked against him, chasing the edge, your body already so close from before that you were unraveling fast.

his thumb found your clit and circled hard and tight, and that was it—you shattered around him with a cry you couldn’t hold back, thighs squeezing his wrist as your orgasm pulsed through you like lightning.

he didn’t stop.

he slowed, but didn’t stop.

riki drew it out, kept working you through it, whispering filth and sweetness against your skin.

“fuck, that was beautiful,” he murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth. “you’re so fucking perfect.”

and then you felt it—his hardness pressing against your thigh, thick and hot and ready.

you reached down without thinking, fingers curling around the length of him through his boxers.

he hissed a breath through his teeth, hips jerking forward into your palm.

you looked up at him, your voice soft and wrecked. “I want you inside me.”

that was all it took.

he shoved the blanket down, stripping off his boxers in one swift motion. you caught your first full look at him—thick, flushed, tip already leaking. your mouth watered. but you wanted him inside now.

deep. filling. real.

he leaned over you, kissing you again—slower this time, reverent. then he settled between your thighs, one hand guiding himself to your entrance.

he paused.

“tell me if you want me to stop.”

“i don’t,” you whispered. “please. i need you, riki.”

he pushed in.

the stretch was everything. full like he was splitting you open and making you whole all at once.

your nails dug into his shoulders, your breath caught in your throat as he sank in deeper.

deeper.

until he was buried to the hilt, forehead pressed against yours.

“fuck,” he groaned. “You feel… so good.”

you whimpered his name, clenching around him, body fluttering and needy already.

he started to move.

slow at first—long, deep thrusts that dragged every inch of him against your walls.

you could feel everything. every twitch of his cock, every grind of his hips, every tremble in his arms as he held himself back.

but you didn’t want him to hold back.

“harder, riki…” you begged. “please.”

he growled something into your neck and snapped his hips forward. the pace changed instantly—rougher now, desperate.

his thrusts rocked the bed, your bodies slamming together with slick, hot sounds. each one knocking noises of pleasure low in your throat.

he grabbed your thigh and hiked it higher around his waist, changing the angle—and damn, you saw stars.

“there?” riki asked, panting.

you nodded wildly. “right there—”

he kept fucking into you, faster now, chasing his own release, the sounds of skin against skin filling the room.

“you feel so good,” he groans. “so tight. can’t believe i’ve been sleeping next to you, pretending i didn’t want this.”

you were close again. you could feel it building—tight, hot.

right at the edge.

“i’m gonna come,” you gasped.

“give it to me,” he whispered, fucking you harder. “i wanna feel you—come on, baby—”

and you did.

you came hard, clenching around him, crying out his name as the orgasm tore through you. riki followed seconds later, a broken groan in your ear as he spilled inside you.

hips jerking.

cock pulsing deep.

he collapsed on top of you, breath hot and ragged against your skin.

for a moment, there was nothing but your bodies

sweat-slicked.

tangled.

spent.

then riki’s lips brushed your cheek.

“i guess we aren’t really friends anymore…” he mutters, pulling out slowly with a hiss. the mattress dips as he lies down on it. his breath slowly falling into a more steady rhythm.

“yeah. i guess we aren’t.”

“what does that make us, then?”

you sigh, still dazed from the orgasm, but respond regardless. “what do you want us to be?”

“i… don’t know,” riki answers back. “maybe we should fuck again to find out?”

#heol #what the fuck #fuck my pussi #mentally fucked

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tsukheeshima · 2 days ago

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that sunghoon one is too accurate

hiii i luv luv hr readings and i luv the effort!! stares back at my 26 undone readings in my inbox i said I would do last month im on break :((

could u do a what kind of feminine enha leans towards? What they like?

sexy? Cute? Soft?

hiii my love, tysm!! i hope you can finish ur readings soon 💕

i loveee this question so much i got so excited lol because i feel like i could picture each one of these girls so well

i know it’s a little hard to fully understand the type of energy that i want you guys to picture, so i gave exemples of the girls that would fit the ENERGY (not talking about physical appearance here)

enhypen preference on feminine energies reading

if you like this reading and would be interested to book a more personal one or ask something about your favorite idol, check my ko-fi on my pinned!! <3

sunghoon: ace of sword + 5 of swords

he likes a cold feminine energy, girls with a bit of a poker face, that naturally have a vibe that will leave you wondering if they hate you or not, but not because they’re rude or because they want you to feel bad, it’s simply their personality, and once you get to fully know them you see that they’re actually pretty nice

feminine energy exemple: irene/jennie/wonyoung

jay: knight of wands + king of pentacles

jay likes successful feminine energy. someone who’s confident, go after what she wants and sort of have a type of “i always win” vibe and mentality. independent girls definitely win him over.

feminine energy exemple: angelina jolie in mrs and ms smith but make it less dangerous lol

heeseung: the world + temperance

the fact that this matches so well with him is so funny but its basically a type of girl that you look at her and she just seems to have everything under control. shes nice, shes pretty, she’s successful, everyone likes her, she’s everything but also not exaggerated in any aspect (?) not super extroverted but also not super introverted, just sooo well balanced.

feminine energy exemple: zendaya

sunoo: 3 of pentacles + page of swords

im so excited for this one because i could picture THE PERFECT EXEMPLE YOU GUYS WILL SEE

sunoo likes girls that are smart and clever with her surroundings. i dont mean like academically smart or anything like that, i mean girls that are always attentive, looking out for others, good at making friends, so curious, ambitious and even looks cute (could be short too)

feminine energy exemple: emma watson (hermione would also fit here so well 😭)

jungwon: 5 of wands + 2 of cups

straightforward girls!!! girls that are not afraid to be like “i disagree with you”, tell him he’s wrong or even be like “hey, i like you. do you like me back?” a feminine energy that will treat him as >>equal<<

feminine energy exemple: kat stratford (10 things i hate about you)

jake: strength + the devil

he likes a sexy energy. a girl that could drive him crazy just by looking at him without doing anything properly sexual or vulgar. a girl that would even dominate him but not in a bdsm way, that’s not what i mean. i mean like a mental sexy domination idk 😭 tell me you understand 😭

feminine energy exemple: megan fox. istg shes the perfect exemple and he may even think about her as his ideal type bc even when i was writing his ideal type reading, she came to mind when i said he likes girls with pale skin, dark hair that would look good with red lipstick

niki: the star + 10 of swords

he likes a melancholic energy in girls. sensible/ sensitive girls that look so tender but have a melancholy/ sadness surrounding them. he could be into artistic girls. reminded me sm of girls that like poetry, the moon and stuff like that

feminine energy exemple: lana del rey

#holy fuck

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tsukheeshima · 2 days ago

Text

hello ITS HERE

FROM UTOPIA AND BACK ˒˒ 이희승

PART ONE 一 EPHEMERAL

〔 𝒾 〕 You promised yourself one thing this semester, and that was to avoid Lee Heeseung at all costs. Your situationship ended months ago, you've put your past behind you with a new boyfriend to show for it. Heeseung was nothing but a fuckup and a bad influence. Or at least that's what you have to tell yourself to stay away, your carefully concocted good girl persona and squeaky-clean image like a house of cards ready to fall at any moment with any more slip ups. But of course Heeseung slides right back into your life like he had never left it, and you hate yourself for letting him back in again with so little fight. You hate that you know why you're so weak. You hate how much you crave his touch.

♫ listen to the playlist!

pairing。 » lee heeseung x fem!reader 𓄵ft。 unnamed oc boyfriend, more to come in later parts

genre。⋆ angst, smut, porn with plot

content warning。» explicit language and sexual content, drug use, mentions of marijuana and prescription pills, dealer!heeseung, good girl!reader, college au, fraternities and sororities, ex fwbs to ???, dubcon, sex under the influence, corruption kink, vaginal fingering, squirting, dirty talk, praise kink, cheating/infidelity, dom!heeseung, no aftercare, semi-public sex, car sex. everything is terrible and everyone sucks. ╱ wc。8 . 8 k

bambii's note。» you guys voted and decided that you wanted this fic to be broken down into parts! FUAB will be three parts in full. this stupid fic is literally my baby and i really hope you guys enjoy this first part!!! expect the second around early august ^_^ disclaimer that i do not condone any of the actions of any of the characters in this story. this is purely a work of fiction and the characters are not an accurate representation of the idols they are based on.

masterlist ╱ next

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ FEEDBACK 𓇼 REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

You watch the ice cubes in your red solo cup swirl around in your liquor, the cheap, off-brand cola doing nothing to soothe the burn when you take a sip. Keeping your head down was the only thing you could do to keep your growing headache at bay– the music was so loud you swore the entire building shook with it, the bass pulsating through you like an anxious heartbeat. All the talking and the laughing and the yelling weren’t doing you any favors, either, not even the brief pauses between indistinguishable songs giving you any relief from the endless droning, deafening noise. Wafts of smoke hung thick in the air, stinging your eyes and nose, clouding your vision; the overwhelming crowd of bobbing and weaving bodies surrounding you looking more and more like a stormy sea the waterier your eyes became. The waves crashed around you and pulled you under, and you desperately gasped for air as you drowned.

Not a few months ago, you wouldn’t have been caught dead at a party like this. It’s not as if you had changed in any way, running through every possible thing you would rather be doing as you perch stiff as a board on this uncomfortable sofa; if it was up to you, you would have been tucked comfy and warm in bed hours ago, scanning over your notes in preparation for your classes the next day. But Jinyoung had begged and pleaded with you until his face turned blue, promised you that he would make it all worthwhile, that his luck on the basketball field demanded it.

You haven’t seen him in over half an hour. He had kissed your temple and mumbled something about going and grabbing another round of drinks– you could only assume that he had gotten caught up with one of his teammates on the journey there.

Typical. You’d only been seeing each other for a few months and he’s done this at every stupid frat party he’s dragged you to since the fall semester started. You don’t know why you keep agreeing to go anymore, though you had a feeling that it was because it was incredibly difficult to say no to him when he flashed you those big puppy dog eyes of his.

The spot he left next to you on the sofa feels a mile wide, isolating you even further from all of the students packed to the teeth in Jinyoung’s frat house. You don’t even like anyone there, athletes and cheerleaders and every single classmate of yours that got on your nerves. You’re tempted to pull out your blackberry and call your roommate to come pick you up, but that just felt cruel.

When the spot next to you finally gets filled up again, a large warm body that tosses itself across the cushions and settles up against you awfully intimately, you turn to them with a bright, relieved smile. You’re fully expecting to see your smiling boyfriend with more solo cups clutched in his hands and a half-baked apology spilling from his lips.

It’s not your boyfriend. It’s not even a stranger. A stranger wouldn’t have had your heart sinking in your chest and your face falling into a repulsed scowl.

“Heeseung!?” you hiss, recoiling away from the way his arm comes to settle on the back of the sofa behind your head. “What the fuck are you doing here?!”

That was a stupid question, and you regret it the second it leaves your mouth. Why wouldn’t he be here? This was exactly the place you should have expected him to be lurking around– not only was this practically a business conference for him, but he was one of Jinyoung’s teammates and fraternity brothers. He had his own bedroom on the second floor, though he treated it more like a storage closet with a futon.

It pisses you off that you didn’t even consider that he would be hiding somewhere in the crowd. Maybe if you did you would’ve had the balls to turn Jinyoung down for once.

Heeseung doesn’t even dignify you with an answer, quirking his brow up at you condescendingly. The nasty scoff you give him makes him snicker, the tips of his fingers barely grazing over your shoulder as he leans up close to you. The touch electrifies you, a spark from a faulty outlet. It makes your teeth hurt.

He used to sling his arm around you just like this all of the time. You used to crave it.

“I should be asking you the same thing.” he laughs. “Never thought I’d see the day you’d come to one of these. Looking for me?”

“You fucking wish.” you spit, shoving his arm off. The last thing you need is someone seeing him all over you like this– especially Jinyoung, who could pop back up any second now. The thought sends a shiver down your spine. “I thought I told you to leave me alone.”

“Yeah, but that was months ago.” he replies offhandedly, his lazy grin never faltering. “Thought maybe you would change your mind once classes started up again.”

You can hardly see his eyes behind the mop of hair that sticks out of his beanie, but you know that they’re droopy and red– the skunk stench of weed clings to his hoodie, mixing with his musky cologne into a heady, sickeningly familiar perfume that leaves you feeling lightheaded and drunk.

You didn’t appreciate how well he seemed to know you, because you had been thinking about changing your mind. At least, you had been before Jinyoung put a stop to it. You had turned to Heeseung all those months ago to deal with all the stress from studying, risking your reputation to buy pot off of him just to make the headaches go away. But those secret meetings had slowly turned from business deals to something else entirely.

You had fallen into this infamous player’s trap, thinking like an idiot that you were simply too good to get hurt. But you did, just like every other girl he’s gone through, and the humiliation followed you around everywhere. As far away from him as possible wouldn’t be far enough.

But midterms were coming up, looming over you like a dark shadow, and those headaches were coming back in full force. You had become dependent on him, and now you didn’t know how else to cope.

“Fuck off.” you snarl, averting your eyes from the way his grey sweatpants hang low on his hips, exposing the waistband of his boxers. “You’re sitting in my boyfriend’s seat.”

“Boyfriend?” Heeseung echoes incredulously, his carefree grin faltering for a fraction of a second, miniscule enough that you’re half convinced you had imagined it. “Which sorry sack of shit asked your uppity ass out?”

It pisses you off just how much his words sting, how you’re barely able to hide it. The disgusted curl of your lip doesn’t feel convincing enough. Uppity is far from the worst thing he’s called you, but it ignites a painful memory– that night last spring still tugs at your chest like an open, gaping wound, replays in your head nonstop like a broken record. You can still hear the yelling, all the insults you had fired at eachother like ammunition.

You take another bullet.

“None of your business.” you retort flatly. “Get out of his seat before I tell him you’re harassing me.”

Heeseung laughs again, directly in your face this time. “Yeah? You’re gonna send your little boyfriend to go beat my ass? Ooooh, I’m so scared!”

“He’s your team captain!” you say before you can stop yourself, cringing inwardly the second it leaves your lips. God, could you have said anything more childish? You’re supposed to be the mature one here.

Heeseung at least seems to find it funny, because his stupid stoner laugh grows even louder. “You’re dating Jinyoung? That’s rich. Gonna have him kick me off the team? Make me sit on the bleachers?” His heart-shaped grin drops when you don’t start laughing along. “…Wait, you’re being serious?! Jinyoung?! … Why? Since when?”

“We met during summer classes,” you explain in a small voice, “It’ll be four months in a week.”

“What the hell were you doing taking summer classes with that idiot? You’ve got better grades than anyone in this damn place.”

You don’t know why you’re still humoring him. “I’m trying to graduate in the winter. I just needed to get some things in order– and he’s not an idiot. It’s really none of your business.”

Heeseung sighs, quickly looking over his shoulder before leaning closer. “Listen, I’ll leave you alone in a minute. I have an offer.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do, you ass. You come over here, when I specifically told you to never stick your nose into my business ever again, just to try and sell me some weed?!” your blood boils over so quickly and sharply that your ears ring from it, face hot and hands trembling, your fingers gripping the red solo cup to the point it bends and creaks. “I don’t even smoke anymore. And, even if I did, I wouldn’t be buying it from you! I told you, I’m never associating myself with you and your bullshit ever again. Not for weed, not for anything.”

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even react, just stares at you for an uncomfortably long time. His expression is blank and unreadable, his eyes scanning your face as if he were searching intently for something. He always used to tell you he could read you like a book, and you suppose he still could, because he seems to find whatever it was that he was looking for in your flushed, angry face. Recoiling back as if you had just leaned forward and spit on him, contempt and disgust evident all over his face, he sneers; “That loser made you quit, didn’t he?”

You can’t make yourself open your mouth to reply, all of your retorts dying on your tongue as you squirm and avert your eyes. It’s an answer enough.

“Fucker.” Heeseung mutters under his breath. “Got a stick so far up his ass I bet he can taste the wood. Who does he think he is?”

“He’s just looking out for me.” you finally manage to choke out, feeble and unconvincing.

“No he’s not. He’s looking after himself. Doesn’t want you to ruin his perfect image.”

“If anything, he’s worried about my image! You know what could happen if my dad finds out I’ve been smoking.”

Heeseung snorts. “Yeah, yeah. He’d stop paying your tuition and your bills, take you off the will, disown you, exile you to some deserted island somewhere. You’d never recover. Whatever, you little trust fund baby.”

“You say that as if you aren’t one yourself, Hee.” you mumble, scowling. The nickname comes out naturally, without thinking, as easy as breathing. It makes your stomach turn, but Heeseung doesn’t seem to even notice.

“At least I don’t spend my life kissing my dad’s ass like you do. You’re a grown woman, you could start acting like one for a change.”

He still knows just what to say to get under your skin. There’s not a single person on this planet that could make you as angry as quickly and effortlessly as Heeseung can. “That’s because your dad has no choice but to put up with your stupid, annoying ass! If I make one wrong move, one mistake, I might as well be dead. They’re finally happy with me for once, that I’m dating a good, respectable man! That’s something you couldn’t even dream of being– you’re a bad fucking influence on me. Make me do shit I wouldn’t ever do.”

In an alternate universe, where Heeseung wasn’t who he was, your parents might have actually encouraged you to stick around him. His father was the founder of an extremely successful real estate firms, and was a close business partner to your own dad. An alumni of the university and the former president of Heeseung’s own fraternity, along with being personal friends with the dean– without his dad pulling strings behind the curtains, you’re absolutely certain Heeseung would have either flunked out or been expelled by now. Anything for the heir to his company, you suppose, no matter how incompetent he was.

“You love it.” Heeseung laughs, though he winces as if it hurts to push out. “I make you feel alive, remember?”

“No, I don’t.” Yes, you do. “Get out of my sight. I’m sure there's plenty of other customers here you can shill your pot and pills onto.”

Heeseung grins crookedly, irritatingly handsome even dressed like a bum. You’d be convinced he didn’t make any money at all off of his drugs with his wardrobe, if it wasn’t for the shiny silver rings and chains he liked to wear, or the name brand shoes and jackets he collects like trophies. It could just be his daddy’s money, but Heeseung had confided in you a while ago that he had stopped sending him any after he had to bail him out of jail.

“Yeah, but you’re still my favorite.” he croons. “It seriously pisses me off that your little piece of shit boyfriend is going around telling you what you can and can’t do– if you’re graduating this semester, you’re taking your finals during midterms, right?”

“Yeah…?” you don’t like where he’s going with this.

“I bet you’re freaking the fuck out then, like you always do, even though you could probably ace that thing with your eyes closed. Need some real chronic shit to get you through all that studying, yeah?”

“Heeseung, I told you I’m not–”

“I’m just offering! Looking out for you, and all that. An eighth, I’ll even give you a discount— actually, fuck the discount, I’ll give it to you for free, but if you end up wanting more you’re gonna have to pay. Meet me by my car, Monday morning before class, okay? Or don’t. It’s up to you.”

“I’m not… We’re not doing this again.” you plead more than demand, your voice small and weak. You can’t let him in again, can’t let him back in just to fuck everything up again. Not when you might finally have everything working out—

“I didn’t say I was going to fuck you, did I? I said I was going to give you some weed. That’s it.”

“You promise that’s it? You’re not trying to trick me, or, like—” a flash of a familiar jersey catches the corner of your eye, your heart falling straight to the pit of your stomach; Jinyoung was finally coming back, weaving through the crowd laughing loudly with the teammates he had walking beside him.

You push Heeseung so hard he falls off the sofa onto his ass, the man letting out a rather feminine squeal before shooting you a half-victimized, half-confused glare. “Hey—! What the fuck was that for?”

“He’s coming back! Get the fuck out of here, Hee, before he sees you with me!”

Heeseung lingers for just a second, his gaze softening into something that feels almost like regret, but he scrambles up off of the floor and disappears into the crowd before you can fully process it. Hardly even a minute later, Jinyoung approaches you with a goofy, drunken smile, and sits back down onto the spot Heeseung had just been sitting.

“Hey baby,” he greets, leaning over to give you a wet, drunken kiss. “Did you miss me?”

“Can you take me home?” is your abrupt answer.

Jinyoung’s face falls immediately, confusion and disappointment written all over his features. “Aw, what? Why? We just got here!”

Guilt swirls in your gut so thick you’re afraid you might get nauseous. If it was because of upsetting Jinyoung, or something else entirely, you weren’t sure. “I… I just don’t feel good. My head hurts.”

He pouts but agrees, and you’re so anxious to get out of the building that you nearly lose him in the crowd.

It’s not until a little while later, curled up alone in your bed, that you realize Jinyoung hadn’t gotten you a drink like he had promised he would. That doesn’t bother you nearly as much as the other thing you had noticed; back at the party, underneath the burnt cigarette smell clinging to his jersey, you caught a whiff of women’s perfume.

—

You’d decided before you even made it to Jinyoung’s car that there was no way in hell you would take Heeseung up on his offer. He had to have been lying about not having any ulterior motives in giving you free weed; nearly everything he did had some self-serving intentions. Plus, he never gives out his stuff for free. You’ve seen him charge people by the puff before when he’s smoked in rotation, and nearly get into a fistfight with one of his customers over five dollars. He’s always too focused on maximizing his profits… Except when he had given you that ounce for your birthday, or the times he had let you smoke off of his roaches when you used to spend your afternoons studying at his apartment…

But those were then, and this is now. You knew him too well to trust him, especially after what he’s done.

By midnight, you aren’t nearly as steadfast. You had lied awake for hours mulling it over, unable to put your mind at ease. As much as you hated it, he was right— you were in over your head, far too deep for you to be able to pull yourself out. When it was offered to you last semester, graduating early sounded like a great idea, but quickly those extra classes and credit hours started to pile up. You had to skip summer break to catch up on your credits, but you’re still falling behind; you have two extra classes this semester than you had planned for, your brief moments of free time growing shorter and farther apart as your finals grew nearer. You studied every day, but that still didn’t feel like enough. There was still so much to cram in before the end of the year, essays and projects you haven’t started yet, exams creeping around the corner… the only reason you didn’t spend every second of your time holed up in the library was because of Jinyoung, always so adamant that you needed a break when you really could have gone another chapter. It would be sweet, if his own personal idea of “unwinding” wasn’t as starkly different than yours. All of the bars, clubs, and house parties he drags you to just leave you with a headache.

You feel on the verge of breaking down every day. Like one more insignificant inconvenience could tip you over the edge.

Even though you prayed the entire weekend that Monday wouldn’t come, it does. Jinyoung drives you to campus like usual, his convertible’s top down so that the early fall breeze flows through your hair. It works better at waking you up than the two cups of coffee you slammed back did, and alongside a deep, not at all campus-friendly kiss from your boyfriend when he drops you off in the parking lot, you nearly forget all about Heeseung and his stupid offer.

It lasts all of two seconds. There, parked perfectly in between you and the building like some kind of obstacle, was Heeseung’s bright cherry red Firebird. That stupid car was like his baby, he spent more time and money cleaning and modifying it than he did anything else he owned. You still vividly remember when he installed that custom V8 engine he spent an entire semester pushing product to save up for. He took you on a joyride through the backroads, letting that engine roar as loud as he could. You’ve never been one to care much about cars, but that night you think you started to understand.

Wherever his Firebird is, Heeseung is never far away. You quickly spot him leaning back against the hood, his eyes already on you from beneath his hoodie as he blew a thick cloud of cigarette smoke into the air. You could have turned around, you should have turned around, but you didn’t. Your body moves without your consent, walking right up to him as you clutched your handbag for comfort. Coming up to him like this, in broad daylight, where anyone could see— you must have lost your mind.

“Couldn’t stay away, could you?” Heeseung laughs when you reach him, tossing his half-smoked cigarette onto the asphalt and stomping it out with his shoe. “I knew you’d show up.”

“Shut up.” you retort intelligently. Your eyes scan nervously around the parking lot for any other students who could possibly spot you. “I’m not here to talk. Just give me the stuff and I’ll be on my way. I’ve got class in twenty minutes.”

Heeseung’s other hand was stuffed in the pocket of his hoodie, fiddling with something small and compact— likely the baggie of green he’s promised you, but when you reach your hand out for it he just looks down and snickers at your empty palm. “Would it kill you to be a little nicer? I don’t go around giving out free shit to anyone.”

“I know you don’t. That’s why I want you to hand it over so I can get the fuck out of here. You’re up to something. I can feel it.”

“Maybe I just think you should show some hospitality to the person who’s giving you free weed. Behind your little boyfriend’s back, mind you.” Heeseung does relent, though, pulling out a small baggie from his pocket and tossing it over to you. You couldn’t have caught it with any less grace if you tried. “Twenty minutes is plenty of time to light one up— catch up, reminisce on the old days and all that.”

He slides an arm behind himself to open the back door of the Firebird; you’re backing away before he even finishes the sentence.

“I’m not getting in that fucking car with you.”

Heeseung finds that funny. Of course he does. “I told you I’m not going to fuck you. I just want to smoke with you. It’s been months.”

You’ve been on your back in that backseat more times than you care to count or admit. Just looking at the immaculately kept interior makes your stomach twist and turn. Heeseung used to complain all the time about how expensive it was to get cum stains out of the black leather— how many times since you’ve last spoken to him has he had to get the Firebird detailed again? How many stains has some poor detailer had to scrub off the seats, from how many other women? You fight down the sudden urge to vomit. “I’m not showing up to my classes high, Hee.”

“You used to be fine with that.”

“I’m not who I was last year.” You say simply, shoving the baggie as far down in your purse as you can and crossing your arms. “Besides, there’s nothing to ‘catch up’ with you. Stop trying to get me to–to open up to you, or whatever it is you want. You don’t really give a shit about me.”

Heeseung cocks his head like he’s genuinely confused. “What makes you think that?”

“Oh, I don’t know, the fact that you’ve never seemed to care about me before when it came to anything that wasn’t what was between my legs. When I said I wasn’t doing this again, I fucking meant it. Have a good day.”

You spin around sharply to leave, but Heeseung stops you with a strong, large hand coming down hard on your shoulder. “Wait, wait, hold on a second.”

“What?” you hiss venomously, turning your head to eye him sideways.

“I know you haven’t noticed, genius, but campus security pulled up right behind us when you first came over here. They’re following me around constantly, I swear— they’re probably watching us right now, knowin’ exactly what we’re up to.” He laughs again, cool and seemingly unbothered by the constant surveillance. “If you leave, they’re gonna stop you and search your bag. You don’t want that, do you? I don’t— that shit’s worth like a third of my rent.”

You curse. Now that you’re looking, you see the unmarked security car clearly, parked in an empty parking space a few spots away from where the Firebird was. The last thing you want is to be stuck alone with Heeseung, but you might not have any choice. The only thing that could possibly be any worse than one of your sorority sisters seeing you with him was getting caught with his weed on you.

Reluctantly, you slide into the backseat with him. The interior is nice and warm, his heated seats extremely welcome on your cold skin. You sit in awkward silence for a moment, watching through the back windshield as the security vehicle sits for a few moments before pulling out and driving away; the moment that it turns the corner Heeseung is reaching over into his center console, digging out a pack of rolling papers and a lighter. “Mind handing me that bud?” he asks, pulling a paper out of the pack and prepping it with his fingers.

“Can’t you use some of your own?” you gripe. You didn’t feel like it was worth fighting it anymore— hell, smoking might be the only way you could get yourself through this.

Heeseung shoots you an exasperated look. “You think I gave you free flower to not smoke it? Give it here.”

You roll your eyes and open your purse. Heeseung’s the fastest roller you’ve ever seen, and before you can even blink he’s placing a perfectly rolled joint between your fingertips, nice and thin, just how you like it. You haven’t smoked in so long that it feels alien to place it between your lips, like you were doing something distasteful and wrong— you suppose you were, even if it came a little too naturally to you to tip your head up so Heeseung could bring the lighter to your lips.

He lights the joint for you without a word or question, just like he always had done; you’re brought back to countless nights alone with him in his apartment, how you’d never had to lift a finger when it came to smoking with him. He’d roll all your joints and pack all of your bowls for you before you would even have to ask, have a lighter lit and ready for you by the time anything’s reached your lips. It’s nostalgic, in a way, how the two of you fall into routine even after all of these months apart, though the pangs of anger and betrayal still eat away at your chest. All of those moments were before Heeseung broke your heart like it meant nothing to him. You’re pretty sure it never did, even when he wrote your name on his Zippo in Sharpie because, you quote, ‘his best lighter needed to be reserved for his best customer’. He had a particularly evil way of making you feel special when you really weren’t.

That was something you didn’t come to understand until later. But you understand it now, and you won’t let yourself get roped back in like you were then.

“So, tell me about Jinyoung.” Heeseung says after a long moment of silence, just the sound of deep breaths as you pass the joint between the two of you.

You consider ignoring him, but he sounded so oddly sincere, looking over at you with big, wide eyes like he was genuinely interested in you and your boyfriend’s love story. It unsettled you enough that you spoke. “There’s not much to say, really. I told you we met during summer classes.”

“When did you start going out?”

“Well, he… he asked me out that first day, actually.” you smile at the memory. The car was quickly getting foggy, but neither of you dare roll down the windows; you simply add more smoke with a shaky exhale. “I said no. I was there for my major, you know, not for fun. But he was insistent, and after a while I gave him a chance.”

Heeseung grimaces. “Does he not know how to take a hint?”

You smack his arm lightly after handing him over the joint. “It’s not like that. I was interested too, I was just… busy. And there was a lot on my mind.” You and Heeseung had just broken things off barely two months prior. “I told him he shouldn’t bother with me, ‘cause I wasn’t much fun. But he said that fun wasn’t what he wanted.”

“What did he want, then?”

“Stability.” you sigh dreamily. “He wanted something real. Someone to settle down with after graduating, build a future with. It was like— it’s hard to explain. My parents, they’ve been wanting something like that for me my entire life, but I found it on my own, without their help. And in a man I actually want, not a family friend or the son of a business partner, somebody they picked out for me. He makes me feel so… in control. Like I’ve finally gotten everything where I want it, you know?”

Heeseung doesn’t reply, just shakes his head and blows a fat cloud of smoke out the corner of his mouth. You desperately want to catch his gaze, just to see if you can piece together what he’s thinking, but his hoodie keeps his face mostly obscured. You’re scared that what he’s hiding is a smile.

In the entire time you’ve known him, he only ever seemed to view love as some sort of transaction, with affection as currency. He only acts like he cares because there’s something he wants out of it; sex, drugs, status. Nothing was unconditional for him, not in the way love was supposed to be. Not in the way that you’ve dreamed since you were young, read in all of your fairy tales.

That was part of why you needed to get away from him, find someone else. Heeseung could never give you what you needed; something real.

You tell yourself that it’s not his fault he thinks this way. It was all he’s ever known, grew up around, his parents and siblings marrying for money and power and not for love.

But so did yours.

The bitterness rising in your throat makes your face sour. “Go ahead and laugh. I know you’re just dying to.”

“I’m not.” he says with surprising sincerity. “I’m just… surprised. None of that sounds like anything Jinyoung would say.”

Your scowl deepens. “You just don’t know him.”

“I’ve known him longer than you have. He’s one of my brothers and my captain, has been for years. I know him better than almost anybody.”

“Well, clearly you don’t!” you hiss, voice rising. “You don’t really know him, not like I do. You just think he’s some walking stereotype when he’s not! He’s so much more than that.”

Heeseung finally turns to look at you, and the storm that’s brewing behind his big brown eyes is startling. You’ve never seen him show much emotion at all, even when you were crying and screaming at him, and while his face stays perfectly stoic his eyes blaze with an anger you can’t wrap your head around. What was it about Jinyoung that made him so unlike himself?

“If he’s all that, why did he make you quit? After all the good it’s done you. Shouldn’t he want what’s best for you?”

“He does want what’s best for me! And what’s best for me isn’t relying on drugs just to get through the fucking day! It’s not healthy.”

Heeseung scoffs. “Within a month of meeting me you stopped having those panic attacks, remember? All those migraines you complained about? They’ve come back, haven’t they? ‘Cause your sweet boyfriend only cares about what makes him look good.”

You don’t want to admit it. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction. “It stifles my intelligence. Walking around in a haze all day.”

“Says who? Him?”

Your heart sinks. You need a smoke.

The joint’s long gone out, but you snatch it from Heeseung’s hand and light it yourself— something you don’t think you’ve ever done before, now that you’re thinking about it. You take a long drag with a deep inhale, letting the smoke pour from your nose as you sigh in defeat.

“I think pot makes you even smarter.” he says after a pause, eyes softening. “Some of the things you’ve said while fucked up… I still think about them.”

You look up at him meekly, feeling especially small in Jinyoung’s sweater. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You think too hard about things. But it kind of helps me, you know? ‘Cause I don’t feel like I think at all sometimes.”

“You don’t.” you tell him honestly. He laughs out loud.

“Do you remember when you were freaking out over this essay you had in psychology? The one you hated because you didn’t get the prompt you wanted? You invited yourself over and smoked, like, half my stash.”

“God, that was humiliating.” you cringe. That day definitely wasn’t one of your finer moments. “I still owe you money for that, don’t I?”

“No, no, I’m happy you did. I’ve always told you that you can come to me whenever you feel stressed out. You told me then that you felt like you were in a competition with yourself. That no matter what you did, you’d come both first and last. I don’t know why, but that stuck with me.”

See, it was shit like this that made Heeseung so dangerous. You always think you have him finally figured out, and then he goes and does something you weren’t prepared for. When you used to spend your afternoons in his apartment, you always thought you were just rambling to yourself, and that Heeseung wasn’t ever listening. Not only did he listen, but he remembers.

You try your best to hide the way your heart flips behind your ribcage. “That sounds stupid. I can’t believe I said that.”

“I don’t think it’s stupid. Smarter than anything Jinyoung’s said while off his face.”

It takes a second for Heeseung’s words to register, shooting up in your seat when it clicks. “Wait— What?! Jinyoung smokes?”

“One of my highest paying customers. Only ever at parties, though. I don’t think he remembers a single one of our championships, ‘cause of all the afterparties— probably why his game is ass.”

“You’re fucking with me. You’re lying.” It’s not even that you’re surprised. You just don’t want to accept it.

“I can show you all the pictures, if that’s what you want.” Usually you can tell when Heeseung’s messing with you, but he’s stone-faced and dead serious. The joint’s nothing but ashes because you let it sit and burn, and while staring at the ash falling onto your new skirt, you just now realize just how high you are.

Your vision’s blurred and your head’s fuzzy, thoughts coming slow and far between. It’s difficult for you to process what Heeseung’s just said, too out of it to decipher the sinking feeling in your chest.

Heeseung’s lied to you before. He’ll likely do it again, think of something else as equally earth shattering to spit out at you. But you can’t bring yourself to ask to for the photos, because a frighteningly large part of you is really expecting to see them.

“Maybe he stopped for me.” you rationalize, voice timid. “The semester’s just started, you must be talking about last year.”

Heeseung looks like he really wants to say something, but he doesn’t. His eyes are just as red as yours probably are, looking you up and down with an unreadable expression.

Your blackberry buzzes in your purse, the loud piercing sound shocking you into reality. You’ve been here with Heeseung for far longer than twenty minutes, and your friends are probably wondering where you are. “Fuck, Hee, I’m late!” you curse, twisting your fingers in your hair. “I can’t go to class looking like this!”

“Then don’t.” he replies cooly, a nonchalant smile spreading across his face. He leans back in his carseat with his arm slung across the rear dashboard, legs parted invitingly. Clad in his usual grey sweatpants, you can see the perfect outline of the bulge in his Calvin Kleins. He’s not even hard. “Stay here and ride it out with me ‘til you’re sober enough to leave.”

“I’ve never just not shown up to class. Everyone’s probably wondering where I am— fuck, everyone’s going to get suspicious… what if they tell Jinyoung?!” Your brain’s screaming at you to just get up and leave, but you can’t get yourself to move. Your limbs feel too heavy to lift, as if it would take every bit of energy you had to open the car door and stand on your feet. Walking all the way to class like this seemed like an insurmountable task, and your head swam nauseatingly just at the thought.

If you were sober, you would be in full blown panic mode, but the weed is making it difficult to really care. It wasn’t as if you were missing some big test or anything, and Heeseung skipped class all of the time and no one ever batted an eye… and maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want this moment to end. You and Heeseung together in his car like nothing had ever happened between you, like everything was just as it was when you thought you had his heart.

“This is what I mean when I say you think too much.” Heeseung shakes his head and lights thankfully not another joint but a cigarette. “Nobody cares if you don’t show up to a class or two. Just tell them you were sick or something if they’re really that nosy. Besides, we’re the only people on this side of the parking lot right now. It’s not like somebody’s going to see you.”

“I don’t know, Hee…”

“Come on, stay with me a little longer. Just until you’re sober. I missed you.” and there he goes again, with his big, sparkly Bambi eyes, gazing down at you like he needs your permission to breathe. You hate him, hate how manipulative he is and how good he is at it. You hate how confident you were that you could beat him at his own game, yet here you are, falling for the same old tricks like you never learned your lesson.

“I haven’t missed you.” you mutter petulantly. It doesn’t sound believable even to your own ears.

Heeseung grins like it was a compliment. “Oh, yeah? Jinyoung keeping you satisfied?”

He spreads his legs wider, to the point it’s almost obscene. You swallow hard and avert your eyes from his very inviting lap. Memories of being perched on that lap tug at you like unraveling threads, slowly breaking you down; grinding up against him in this very backseat, moaning into each other's hot mouths, sliding your hands along his built thighs when you got on your knees for him, only because the touch made him shudder. How easily he made you feel like you never had before, cocky and laidback and effortless as if he wasn’t even trying. How he would talk you through it, the words branded into your brain, ringing in your ears when you’re touching yourself at night. You’ve made yourself cum to the memory of what “good girl” sounded like coming from his lips.

“He is keeping me satisfied, actually.” you insist. Somehow, you sound even less believable than you did before. “I’ve been getting out of my shell more now that we’re together; he keeps me from rotting away in my bedroom every day.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause Friday night you looked fucking miserable.” Heeseung cocks his head, eyes glittering with mirth. “Anyway, that’s not the kind of satisfied I’m talking about.”

You stiffen, a rising heat flushing your neck and cheeks. “Heeseung.” you warn him, though it sounds more like a desperate plea.

“I’m just asking. Is it wrong to be curious?” he croons, grin widening. It’s not hard to imagine the pitchfork and the horns, red and twisted and hiding underneath his equally red hair. “He must be fucking you right if you’re defending him this much.”

“I’m not having this fucking conversation with you, Lee.” you wish you had more control over your voice, like Heeseung did. You wish you didn’t sound so cornered and weak.

“Does he make you feel good? Better than me?” Heeseung leans in and his thick, musky cologne invades your senses, clouds your mind worse than the weed. The familiar, enticing scent works through you as if you were one of Pavolv’s dogs, notes of wood and amber with a hint of marijuana and cigarette smoke, so unmistakingly Heeseung that it makes your thighs clench. It reminds you of nights you used to spend with him, twisted together on his mattress, wearing his clothes like he and you were something more than… you weren’t even friends. Confidants, maybe. Business partners. Two strangers in a deal; you wanted his drugs and he wanted your body.

He still wants your body. He tells you as much with his arms caging you against the headrest, heavy on top of you and staring you down like a predator. His sultry gaze sets your skin on fire, the heat settling deep in your gut. “Does he fuck you every night like I did? Does he make you squirt as easily as I can? Does he eat your pussy the way you like?”

You whimper and squirm underneath him, unable to meet his eyes. It’s agonizing just how easily he can turn you on, your belly fluttering with hot, sticky arousal from hardly anything at all. “You’re disgusting.” you spit at him, though you don’t sound nearly as angry as you would like. It’s just what Heeseung was hoping you would say.

He beams. “Oh fuck, he doesn’t, does he? Parades you around like a trophy but can’t even please you right— do you put up with it for the stability? Fake moaning in his ear so he feels like a man?”

You shake your head violently, too overwhelmed to speak.

“Can he even make you cum?”

You don’t stop shaking your head.

Heeseung laughs, a sharp, startling bark directly in your face. He forces you to look up at him with his fingers gripped tight around your chin, his calloused fingertips digging into the fat of your cheeks. There’s a fire burning in his eyes, hungry and dangerous, all consuming with how the burning heat of his gaze overtakes your body. “I knew it. I’ve been listening to girls complain about how bad of a lay he was for years. Bet he talked big game, too. How long have you been having to finish yourself off after he falls asleep? Are your fingers even enough anymore or did you get some toys? Do you still think of me when you’re fucking yourself? Wishing it was me between those thighs?”

“Heeseung, stop.” you plead with him again, but you make no move to stop him when his hand comes to rest heavy on your inner thigh.

“Now that’s disgusting. It’s fucking criminal, having you like that and not ruining you.” he continues, warm breath tickling your ear and nose. The smell of ash on his lips tempts you for a taste. “You’re so fucking pretty when you’re falling apart. Used to make you cum until you couldn’t anymore, remember baby? Poor, smart girl all stressed out and needing me to fuck her stupid. ‘Til your sweet little head’s all empty and your pussy’s shaped like me. Fuck, that’s why you’re really here, isn’t it? You’re all pent up, seeking any kind of release— it’s not really my weed you want, baby. You need me to make you cum.”

His hand slides higher, underneath your skirt and your sweater, pinky finger ghosting over the gusset of your panties. You want to fight him, push him off and away, but you’re frozen underneath his searing touch. Just the tips of his fingers and the ghost of his lips across your jaw is enough to get your pussy soaking, dampening your panties and making your hips twitch. Heeseung can no doubt feel the wet spot, growing bolder with two of his long thick fingers tracing the outline of your pussy lips. You grab ahold of his hoodie sleeve, clutching desperately to ground yourself and keep from grinding up into his hand.

“We can’t,” you mewl pathetically, baked brain spinning from how fast your carefully constructed walls are coming down. It’s a shame. You spent months working on them.

Still, even as you deny him, you don’t try to stop him when he cups your hot, throbbing cunt in his palm and presses down, rewarding your gasp with a deceptively chaste kiss to your neck. “Just say it and I’ll give you what you want, princess. Tell me what you need from me.”

You tell yourself that it’s the weed. It’s the weed that’s making you pull him closer and plant his lips onto yours. It’s the weed that’s causing your legs to part just enough for him to slip his hand between them, Heeseung devouring your breathy gasp when you feel his fingertips slide inside the gusset of your panties.

He admires your wetness with a low whistle, spreading your slick across your folds and wetting your aching clit. He doesn’t touch you any further, barely pressing down on the pert bud enough to even be felt, then glides down your slit to ghost around the rim of your opening before moving back up to repeat the cycle. He’s waiting for your word, breaking the kiss just to grin at you devilishly; this is a game you know far too well, and one you always lose.

“Touch me,” you whisper, a barely audible plea into the fabric of Heeseung’s hoodie. He gently tilts your head up to face him, his thumb caressing your chin.

“You gotta speak up, baby. I can’t hear you.” he laughs breathlessly in your ear. You know it’s a lie, you know he’s just fucking with you, but you’re too far gone to fight back anymore.

“Please touch me.” you repeat, a little bit louder, a little more pathetically. Your pussy makes an obscene wet sound when his fingers dip between your sticky folds.

“I am touching you, baby.” he responds smoothly, once again running loose circles around your clit. God, you hate him. You can’t stand him.

“Fucking— fucking put them in!” you snap, pulling weakly at his hoodie sleeves. “Your fingers, need them inside, please!”

Heeseung’s grin drips with honeyed venom. “You missed these fingers, huh? Missed how I stretched this pussy out ‘til you’re squirting all over me?”

You bury your face in his chest and shake your head vigorously. Heeseung’s having none of it.

“Tell me you missed this.” he insists, dark and dirty, his breath hot against your neck. “Tell me you missed this just as much as I have.”

You don’t want to answer, don’t want to give him the satisfaction… but you’re so wet and empty that it’s beginning to ache. “I missed you.” you finally admit to him, like it was a secret and not horribly, embarrassingly obvious. “Missed you inside of me. On top of me. Around me.”

You don’t just miss the sex. You miss his smile, his laugh, the way he would comfort you when you were having a bad day. You miss his apartment, the way it always smells like bud, his broken-in thrift store couch where you sat and explored each other. You miss his sense of humor, his gifts, his wild stories and the animated, engaging way he would tell them.

It tore your heart in two when he insisted on keeping the strings unattached, keeping you at arm's length, not quite friends but not quite lovers. It hurt even worse to pretend that you were fine with it, even when you didn’t have to. You just couldn’t risk losing him.

He wasn’t yours to lose. That was something you didn’t realize until it was too late.

Heeseung gives you what he promised, and two long, thick and familiar fingers slide knuckle deep inside of you. Your pulsing, greedy walls welcome him home in delight.

It almost seems like it’s muscle memory for him, how easily he finds your sweet spot and curls his fingertips against it in just the right way. You’re completely under his control in an instant, his soft lips against your neck and the heel of his palm grinding down onto your clit; he plays your body as if it were an instrument, conducts your whimpers and quiet keens into a crescendo of high pitched moans. Another finger prods at your entrance, and Heeseung’s other hand leaves your hips to grab roughly at your breast, fisting it through the thick fabric of your sweater and squeezing. Your nipples pebble underneath the material, hard enough that you’re sure he can feel them even through your bra and clothes.

“Hee!” you cry out, thighs shaking; it’s impossible to keep up with how fast his fingers plunge in and out of your pussy, so wet that slick dribbles down your ass and onto the car seat, soaks Heeseung’s hand and hoodie. The car’s interior echoes with obscene, wet shlick, shlick, shlick noises, so filthy that it rings in your ears and flushes your cheeks. “Hee, you gotta slow down, or I’m gonna–!”

“Cum? You’re gonna cum? Already?” Heeseung mocks, though his voice is soft at the edges. “Damn, you really did miss this, huh?”

He doesn’t slow down; in fact, he goes even faster, his smug grin infuriating and oh-so-kissable. You want to bite that plump bottom lip, if just to stifle your noises— the pressure in your belly rises with a molten heat, inching closer and closer to volcanic eruption, your entire body alight with overwhelming pleasure. You’re so close, so so close…

Heeseung kisses the tears on your cheeks, and you realize belatedly that you’re crying. “My poor baby girl. Needed a real man to come and take care of her, yeah? Crying for me so pretty— fuck, your pussy’s crying too, baby, she’s begging. She wants to cum so fucking bad, doesn’t she?”

“Hee!” His name is the only thing you can think to say.

“Give her what she wants. Cum. Cum for me.”

You do. You cum so hard you see stars, the tight knot in your womb snapping in an explosion of ecstasy. It shoots through you and out of you like a bolt of lightning, your cunt spasming around Heeseung’s fingers and drenching him with a spray of warm, sticky liquid.

“Good girl.” he groans into the hollow of your collarbone. His kisses have diminished to open-mouth panting and lazy laps from his hot tongue, his spit coating your neck and soaking into the collar of your sweater. “You’re such a good girl. Fuck, that’s so hot.”

You pant desperately, trying to catch your breath. Heeseung doesn’t let you, instead surging upwards to capture your lips in a deep, hungry kiss— you ride out the last weakening waves of your orgasm with his tongue against your teeth, devouring you and possessing you entirely. He kisses you like he’s searching for something.

Your blackberry chimes again, tossed aside and abandoned on the floorboards. It’s as if you were doused with a bucket of ice cold water, reality crashing back down on you the moment your head clears— you tear yourself away from Heeseung and push his chest hard, shoving him off of you and against the passenger seat.

“Fuck.” you gather your things in a hurry, snatching your phone and purse and shoving them under your arm, your heart thundering in your ears. “Fuck.”

Heeseung doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even try to stop you when you launch yourself out of the Firebird and out into the empty parking lot, stumbling over yourself with weak legs. You can’t fucking believe yourself; you have to go home. There’s nothing else you can do. You can’t possibly go to class now, looking and smelling like sex and sin. You can’t let anyone see you like this.

Jinyoung can’t see you like this.

You don’t stop stumbling until you make it to the bus stop, your hands trembling so bad you can’t find your bus pass. What is wrong with you?! How could you do this?! This is all Heeseung’s fault, he seduced you, he tricked you, he coerced you into this. Filled your head up with smoke and took advantage of your addled mind. You’re a good girlfriend, you would never do this to Jinyoung—

You remember with a sickening start that you’re still wearing Jinyoung’s sweater.

── 𝓽aglist

@filmnings , @heartikeu, @innocygnet, @tinycatharsis, @enigmaticaphrodite , @jellymochii , @dwaekkicidal , @11vr1 , @filmsbyun, @arcturus444, @love-ning, @prkhaven, @jaylaxies, @xylatox, @ssanhwatto, @mikeeel, @rosepetals09 , @theyluvjake , @norihoyeon, @seokjinthescientist

please send me an ask to be added to either my permanent taglist or to the FUAB taglist!

#im sat #holy shit #its here #heol #what the fuck #fuck my pussi #stone room #imma light this joint

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tsukheeshima · 3 days ago

Text

Let Loose

Making out with a stranger in the closet seemed like a fun idea—until the morning after when you realized it was your friend…

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: Drinking, mentions of being drunk, making out, fingering, grinding, cumming in pants, just drunk and dirty xx

authors note: someone else gotta react to this in my dms and text me while reading this cause my pookie can’t cause this is her bro 😔💔

You finally finish getting ready—after changing your outfit a couple of times. You grab your bag, lock the door behind you, and head outside where Heeseung’s car is already waiting at the curb. He honks twice, and you roll your eyes with a smile as you jog over.

But when you open the car door, you freeze.

“Are you serious right now?”

Jake is sitting comfortably in the front seat, turned halfway around to grin at you.

“Heyyy,” he says like it’s all good.

In the backseat, Riki and Jungwon are already lounging with way too much leg space—spread out like they own the place.

“You’re sitting in the middle,” Riki announces.

You look at Heeseung through the open window. “Hee, are you kidding me? They always manspread. I’m going to be squished.”

“You’ll live,” Heeseung says with a smirk. “The others already left in Jay’s car.”

You groan but climb in anyway, squeezing yourself into the tiny space between Jungwon’s knee and Riki’s thigh.

“I swear, if one of you squishes me when we turn, I’m jumping out of this car.”

Riki just grins. “No promises.”

You slump into the middle seat with a dramatic sigh, adjusting your bag on your lap like a barrier between you and the two taking up all the space.

“Move your leg,” you mumble, nudging Riki with your elbow.

“This is me trying to give you space,” he says, deadpan.

Jungwon chuckles. “You act like we’re doing this on purpose.”

“You are doing this on purpose,” you shoot back. “I’m not even sitting—I’m hovering.”

“Sounds like a skill issue,” Jake calls from the front, looking back to flash you a grin.

“Jake, don’t make me climb over this seat and switch with you.”

“Go ahead,” he shrugs. “You’ll have to fight Heeseung, though.”

You glance at Heeseung, who’s smirking as he pulls away from the curb.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” you say.

“Me?” He raises a brow. “I just drive. I don’t control the seating chart.”

“You picked me up last,” you mutter, trying to adjust yourself between the two human space heaters beside you.

“We knew you’d take forever getting ready,” Jungwon says casually.

You give him a deadpan look. “That’s why I look better than all of you combined.”

That earns a round of laughter.

Riki throws his arm over the back of the seat like he’s making himself even more comfortable.

You look at Heeseung in the mirror. “Please tell me the place isn’t far.”

“Only like… twenty minutes.”

You groan.

“Hey, could be worse,” Heeseung adds.

“How?”

“You could’ve been stuck in Jay’s car with Sunghoon on aux.”

You blink. “…Never mind, I’m good here.”

The car ride is halfway over when Jake suddenly turns around in his seat again, grinning like he just won the lottery.

“Okay, so I’m just saying,” he starts, “I know I’m pulling tonight.”

You squint at him. “Pulling what? A muscle?”

Heeseung snorts.

Jake ignores you. “No, like—this girl said she’s gonna be at the party, and we’ve been DMing all week. It’s on tonight.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, dropping your head back against the seat. “Can someone else besides Jake get laid for once?”

Riki raises his eyebrows. “You trying to hook up tonight?”

“I better,” you say, throwing your hands up. “I need to let loose. My brain is full of nonsense and stress, and I feel so pent up.

“That’s the spirit,” Heeseung says, nodding like a proud mentor.

“Thank you,” you say dramatically. “I am tired of being normal. I want to kiss someone and not worry about it later.”

Jungwon chokes on a laugh. “Who are you?”

“I’m free,” you reply. “Finally done with everything.”

Riki smirks. “You’re gonna be crazy tonight, huh?”

“Yep,” you say.

Jake laughs. “Now that’s the energy I like. Let’s all be crazy.”

“Speak for yourselves,” Jungwon says. “I’m minding my business.”

“Lame,” you and Riki say at the same time, then high-five over your lap.

After what felt like the longest (and most cramped) car ride of your life, Heeseung finally pulls up outside the house. Music is already spilling out from somewhere inside, bass thumping hard enough to rattle the windows.

“Freedom,” you mutter, trying to untangle your legs from Riki and Jungwon’s.

“Okay, don’t act like we kidnapped you,” Riki says, stretching like he wasn’t squishing you the whole time.

“You did kidnap my personal space,” you reply, scooting toward the door.

But before you can fully crawl over Jungwon’s knee and faceplant into the grass, Riki slides out first and turns around, holding out a hand.

“Come on, menace,” he says, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Before you dislocate something.”

You hesitate for a split second. Not because you need help—but because his hand is there, open and waiting, like it’s normal. Like this isn’t a rare soft moment from the guy who is always joking around with you.

You grab it anyway.

He pulls you up easily, steadying you when your shoe hits a weird patch of gravel. He puts a hand on your waist to catch you.

“Don’t go getting hurt already. I need you around to tell me all about everything tomorrow.”

It doesn’t take long for the drinks to kick in. Two cups of something bright red, a shot you immediately regretted, and one very intense round of karaoke later—you’re leaning against the wall, giggling to yourself as you wander through the crowded house looking for someone you know.

“Why is this hallway moving?” you mutter, narrowing your eyes at the floor like it personally betrayed you.

You stumble around a corner and nearly walk straight into someone’s back.

“Heeseung!” you say, relieved, grabbing the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline.

He turns, eyebrows lifting when he sees your face.

“Y/N,” he says slowly, holding your elbows to steady you. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” you say, smiling like a proud disaster. “I’m drunk. Like… bad decisions drunk.”

Jay, standing beside Heeseung, just laughs.

“Yikes.”

“Shut up, Jay,” you say, pointing at him with absolutely no aim. “You don’t know my life.”

“This is what she wanted,” Heeseung tells him with a grin, then looks back at you. “You good?” You nod dramatically. “I’ve been flirting with a houseplant for ten minutes. I’m great.”

Heeseung chuckles. “God, we left you alone for two seconds.”

“I was looking for you!” you say, poking his chest. “You said I had to make a bad decision tonight, remember?”

He blinks. Then suddenly remembers, “Oh—wait.”

You stare up at him, swaying a little. “What.”

“You just missed it.”

“Missed what?”

He shares a look with Jay before turning back to you, clearly trying not to laugh.

“There was a round of seven minutes in heaven.”

Your jaw drops. “You’re kidding.”

He shakes his head. “I’m so serious. Like—literally just ended five minutes ago.”

You gasp like he just told you the worst news ever.

“Noooo. That could’ve been my moment!”

“I know,” he says, still grinning. “You missed your shot to make out with someone in a closet.”

You pout. “I was so ready for that.”

Jay raises a brow. “You could start your own round.”

You glance between them, mischievous now.

“…That’s actually not a bad idea.”

Heeseung narrows his eyes. “You better not pick a houseplant.”

“Hey! It was a nice houseplant,” you say, already spinning on your heel. “If the ficus calls me pretty, it’s on.”

You’re still mid-pout when Jay suddenly tilts his head, clearly up to no good.

“You know what?” he says slowly, eyes flicking to Heeseung. “Let’s make this easy.”

Heeseung grins, catching on, “Y/N, go wait in the closet.”

You blink. “…Excuse me?”

“You said you wanted to hook up with someone tonight,” Heeseung reminds you, gently turning you by the shoulders. “Consider this a favor.”

Jay’s already moving. “I’ll find someone for her.”

“Wait, what?! I didn’t agree to this—”

“You did,” Heeseung lies smoothly, pushing you toward a random door.

“Just now. You practically begged.”

“I—barely begged—” you protest, tipsy and dramatic as he opens the door to some random dark closet off the hallway.

“Y/N.” He gives you a look. “Trust the process.”

You squint at him. “If you lock me in here and run away, I swear to God—”

“We won’t.”

Jay peeks back around the corner. “Give us like thirty seconds. I’m gonna pick someone.”

“Pick someone hot!” you shout as Heeseung gently—but firmly—guides you into the closet.

“You’re tipsy. Your standards aren’t high. Anyone will seem hot.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the door is already closing.

Click.

You’re in the dark. In a closet. With the smell of old coats and someone’s spilled cologne.

You sigh.

“This is either going to be the best or worst thing I’ve ever done.”

Outside, you can hear Heeseung and Jay walking away down the hall.

“She’s going to kill us,” Jay mutters.

Heeseung just laughs.

“Only if she remembers.”

You’re leaning against the back wall of the closet, head tipped back, still a little buzzed and warm all over.

The door creaks open behind you.

Footsteps. A body. Then—slam. The door shuts again.

You don’t turn around.

You don’t even think.

Instead, you push off the wall, spin, and grab the figure in front of you by the front of their shirt.

He barely has time to react.

Your mouth finds his like you’ve been waiting all night—like this was the point of the entire party. Because to you, it was.

He stumbles back a step, surprised, but his hands catch your waist automatically. Strong and steady.

You press in closer, chasing the heat, the rush. Fingers in his hair. Breath short. It’s dark. Too dark to see, too loud in your head to care.

He kisses you back.

Harder than expected

Faster than he should.

Neither of you speak.

You tug him down by his collar and he doesn’t hesitate. His hands slide lower, gripping your hips like he means it. Your bodies slot together without thinking.

You don’t know who it is.

And honestly? Right now, you don’t want to.

His hoodie bunches in your fists as you pull him in again, mouths meeting with even more urgency than before. It’s all instinct and heat—no words, no questions, just movement.

The closet is too small, too warm, too quiet except for the soft rustle of clothes on the hangers and the uneven sound of breathing between kisses.

His hand slides up your back, slow, a little unsure—like he’s still catching up to what’s happening. Your fingers find his jaw, thumb brushing over skin, his hand full of rings.

Your back hits the wall again, and he follows, pressing in like he can’t stay away. He smells like something expensive you recognize but can’t place. It pulls at the edge of your mind, but you push it away, drunk on the moment.

He exhales sharply when your hands dip under his hoodie, fingertips grazing warm skin. His grip tightens, lips dragging down the side of your neck.

You tilt your head back, biting your lip to keep quiet.

There’s a moment—one small breath—where you almost pull back. The shape of his mouth, the way his fingers curl against your waist, the way his body fits against yours…

Who is he?

But then his mouth finds yours again, and just like that, you forget the question.

You forget everything, only focused on your growing heat.

His hands move from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you into him with a hunger that matches your own. The kiss deepens, each movement more urgent and passionate than the last. As you press against him, he lets out a low groan, his grip tightening as if he never wants to let go.

Without breaking the kiss, he guides you both as you slide down the wall together, finding a better position. Your body molds against his perfectly.

Lost in the moment, you instinctively start grinding against his leg. He lets out a quiet growl of approval, meeting your move with one of his own.

His hand curls around the back of your neck, guiding your mouth back to his with a kind of desperation that sends a jolt straight through you. It’s messy now—teeth grazing, breaths tangled, your hips rolling without rhythm, just need.

Your dress has ridden up slightly, and the friction between you is dangerously addicting. His thigh shifts beneath you again, drawing out a soft whimper that you don’t have time to regret because his lips are already swallowing it whole.

You feel him shudder under your touch when your hands explore under his hoodie again, nails dragging lightly over his stomach. His muscles twitch beneath your fingertips, and you smile against his lips—drunk off his reaction as much as the alcohol.

Then, without warning, you shift your focus. Your lips trail away from his, down the line of his jaw and to the side of his neck. He freezes for a half second, breath hitching, before his head tilts slightly, like he’s offering more of himself without needing to ask.

You press soft, open-mouthed kisses to his skin, tasting the faint mix of sweat and expensive cologne. He smells warm, familiar, addictive. Your hands slide up his sides while your mouth explores the curve of his throat, and when your teeth graze the sensitive spot just below his ear, he exhales sharply—almost a moan, barely contained.

The sound fuels you.

You suck gently at the spot, then harder, determined now—like you want to leave something behind, some kind of proof this happened. A mark. A secret. Something he’ll see in the mirror tomorrow and remember exactly how you felt pressed against him in the dark.

He curses under his breath, hands tightening on your thighs, pulling you impossibly closer.

“Fuck...”

The way he groans only makes you go slower. More deliberate. You kiss down the side of his neck, peppering small bruises across his skin like you're signing your name in the dark.

As you shift in his lap, your dress rides higher—bunched up around your hips now, forgotten in the heat of it all. The air kisses your skin, cool against the warmth radiating from where his hands roam.

He notices.

His grip trails lower, fingers ghosting over the soft skin of your thighs before settling just shy of where you want him most. He pauses, breathing hard, like he's waiting for permission even as his hands slide inward—thumbs teasing at the hem of your underwear, stroking along the crease where thigh meets hip.

You gasp softly, your hips instinctively pressing forward, searching for friction. He chuckles low in his throat, a sound that rumbles against your collarbone as he dips his head again, lips brushing your neck.

His hands move with maddening patience, kneading the soft flesh near your entrance, fingers pressing just enough to make your legs tense around him.

“You’re soaked,” he murmurs, voice rough and a little awed, like he wasn’t expecting it but can’t get enough now that he knows. His fingers tease at the edge of your underwear, never quite crossing the line—but so close your entire body shakes with anticipation.

You bury your face in his shoulder, lips parted, breath coming in soft pants as your fingers clutch at his hoodie.

He pulls back just enough to tilt your chin up, finding your mouth again like he can’t stand the distance. And just as your lips meet, his fingers shift—

Lower.

Slower.

Right where you need them.

You gasp into his mouth, and he swallows the sound like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

His fingers circle deliberately, just outside the place you’re aching for him most—so close it’s maddening, not nearly enough. Your hips rock into his touch, chasing more, needing more, but he keeps the pace slow, teasing, like he’s savoring every second of watching you come undone.

You bury your face in his neck, voice a strained whisper.

“Please…”

He stiffens slightly, like the word hits him somewhere deep. But still—he doesn’t move faster. His fingers keep tracing those maddening circles, and your thighs tremble from how badly you want him.

You breathe, lips brushing his skin.

“Please, touch me there.”

That’s all it takes.

His restraint slips.

His hand finally slides beneath the last barrier of fabric between you, fingers dipping down, and you gasp—a sharp, breathy sound that you try to muffle against his neck. He groans at how wet you are, how easily his fingers find where you're pulsing with need.

“You’re driving me insane,” he growls against your ear, his voice low and wrecked. “You feel so—fuck—”

You cut him off with a whimper, grinding into his hand now, desperate for every ounce of friction.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper, voice cracking. “Please don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t.

His mouth finds yours again—sloppier now, deeper—kisses that leave you dizzy as his fingers work you slowly, expertly, like he knows exactly what you need. One hand grips your thigh to steady you while the other strokes you with growing urgency, each pass pulling a new sound from your lips.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmurs between kisses, forehead pressed to yours. “Sound so fucking pretty.”

You’re unraveling in his hands, every nerve alight, every breath shallow. The closet feels too small now, like the air is thick.

You’re moving against his hand now—chasing every stroke, every flick of his fingers, your body trembling from how close you are. The heat between you is unbearable, the air thick with your combined breaths, and the soft rustle of clothes.

“Just like that,” he murmurs, his voice ragged. “God, just—keep going…”

But you need more.

You can feel him, hard beneath you, his restraint fraying with every second. You shift forward in his lap, grinding down against him as your hands clutch his shoulders for balance. The friction sends shockwaves through your entire body—and his too.

He stutters out a curse, eyes fluttering shut as your movements become more desperate. You’re not even thinking anymore—just feeling, letting the rhythm take over. The soft drag of your body against his, the slick heat of his hand still moving against you—it’s too much, not enough, all at once.

“Fuck, baby—” he hisses, and you feel it—the way his grip tightens, the way his whole body tenses beneath you.

You freeze for half a second, breath catching.

Then it happens.

A shudder runs through him, low and sharp. His jaw clenches. His forehead drops to your shoulder. And he groans—long and low—body jerking once beneath yours as he comes, completely undone under you.

The realization hits you like lightning.

His arms wrapped around you as he tries to recover, chest heaving. You stay still, eyes wide, heart pounding in your throat.

Neither of you says anything right away.

And in the quiet dark of the closet, all you can hear is the sound of your own breathing—and his, uneven and shaky, still wrapped around you like he doesn’t want to let go.

You don’t know how long you’ve been in there.

You’re breathless, hot, and sweaty. Your lips are swollen. And the air in the closet feels like it’s on fire.

His hand brushes the edge of your jaw, thumb gently grazing your cheek. For a second, everything slows—his forehead leans into yours, both of you catching your breath, still pressed close, your fingers tangled in the front of his hoodie.

Then—click.

The door bursts open, flooding the closet with light.

“WHOA—uh—” A stranger’s voice.

Definitely not Jay. Not Heeseung. Or anyone you know.

Some random guy from the party totally ruined the moment, barging in like he’d just stumbled onto a crime scene.

“Oh my god,” you mutter, shielding your eyes from the sudden brightness, heart thudding.

“Privacy???”

“Damn, my bad,” the guy says, backing up fast with his hands raised. “Thought this was a bathroom.”

You immediately twist away from the guy you were just pressed up against, turning your face to the wall like that’ll somehow erase the last ten minutes.

He steps back too, one hand running through his hair. You don’t look at him. Neither of you says anything.

The guy at the door lets out an awkward laugh.

“Y’all good? Should I—?”

“Leave,” you say quickly.

“Right. Sorry. Uh… carry on.”

He disappears, the door left cracked behind him now.

The closet feels different suddenly. Too bright. Too quiet.

You let out a breath and tug at the hem of your top, still not turning around.

“I should go,” you mumble.

The guy clears his throat. “Yeah. Me too.”

You step out without looking back.

He waits a second, then slips out behind you in the opposite direction.

No names.

No faces.

Everything after the closet is a blur.

The music got louder. The lights got hazier. You remember someone handing you a half-melted popsicle. You think you danced with a girl named Sammy—or maybe she just braided your hair and disappeared. You can’t remember.

There were voices. Laughter. Someone yelled about pizza.

And then—

Darkness.

Until you wake up to the smell of bacon.

Your eyes crack open against the soft glare of daylight, your head pounding gently like it’s keeping its own slow, painful beat.

You’re on a couch.

Not your couch.

You shift and groan softly, the blanket someone tossed over you sliding to the floor. You’re wearing the same clothes from last night. Your mouth is dry. Your hair’s a mess. Your earring is gone.

Across the room, at the dining table, you hear voices and the unmistakable sound of forks scraping against plates.

“He looks like he got hit by a bus,” Jake says with a mouthful of food.

“That’s because he drank like a bus,” Heeseung replies, sipping from a mug, unbothered.

Sunghoon sighs, flipping them off. “Can we stop talking about buses?”

You slowly sit up and blink at them, still half-dreaming. “...Where am I?”

Jungwon looks up from his toast. “Our place.”

You look around, finally registering the layout. You’ve crashed here once before—Jay and Jungwon’s shared off-campus apartment. Warm lighting, mismatched chairs, the lingering scent of Febreze.

Heeseung turns in his seat, giving you a crooked smile. “Well, well. Sleeping Beauty rises.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, pulling your knees to your chest. “I think my soul is still drunk.”

Jake tosses you a granola bar without warning. You catch it—barely.

“What happened last night?” you ask, squinting at them. “Like, after midnight?”

They all glance at each other.

Jay shrugs. “You danced. You yelled at the ceiling fan. You knocked over a lamp.”

“You also tried to fight a Roomba,” Jungwon adds.

“I what?”

“You lost,” Heeseung says, sipping his coffee.

You groan and flop back onto the couch. “So no hookup?” you ask with a sad tone, staring up at the ceiling like it betrayed you.

The table goes quiet for a second.

Then Sunghoon chokes on his juice. “You were trying to hook up last night?”

You throw an arm over your eyes. “Don’t act surprised. I told everyone.”

Heeseung snorts. “You also told a lamp it was the love of your life.”

“It was a nice lamp.”

Jake leans back in his chair, grinning. “So, wait. You seriously didn’t at least make out with anyone?”

“I don’t think so,” you say slowly. “There was a lot of… red lighting. I kept losing my phone. And my dignity.”

Jungwon hums, thinking. “You did disappear for a while though.”

Your arm moves off your face. “I did?”

Jay nods. “Yeah, you vanished around the time the closet game started.”

Your stomach flips.

Closet.

You blink. Mouth opens. Then closes.

Heeseung narrows his eyes. “Wait… wait. You were in the closet, weren’t you?”

You sit up too fast. “I was put there.”

You glance around at them. Their faces are all amused, a little shocked, but definitely unaware.

You clear your throat. “Maybe for like… a minute.”

“Alone?” Jungwon asks, raising a brow.

You pause. “…Maybe.”

They all howl.

Jake slaps the table. “You so made out with someone and don’t even know who it was.”

“No I didn’t!”

“Y/N,” Jay says, pointing at you like a detective, “your lipstick was completely gone, your hair was ruined, and you were missing a shoe.”

You freeze.

Heeseung just smirks. “That closet wasn’t empty.”

Your brain short-circuits. You remember hands. A shirt. A mouth. But the rest? Blurry. Too dark. Too fast.

“Oh my god,” you whisper.

“Wait,” Jungwon says. “So who was in there with you?”

You open your mouth—then stop.

You don’t know.

The guys are still laughing when Jay suddenly squints, fork frozen halfway to his mouth.

“…Wait.”

You glance up from your spot on the couch, warily. “What?”

He looks at Heeseung. “Dude. The closet. Remember what we said last night?”

Heeseung raises a brow, clearly trying to dig through the fog of tequila and sleep deprivation. “What did we say?”

“You know,” Jay says, gesturing vaguely. “When Y/N was all like, ‘I need to kiss someone,’ and you said—”

“‘Go wait in the closet,’” Heeseung says suddenly, eyes widening.

You blink. “Okay, rude.”

“No—you did!” Jay laughs. “You were like, ‘I got you,’ and literally shoved her into that hallway closet.”

Heeseung bursts out laughing, almost dropping his toast. “Oh my god, that wasn’t a dream?? I actually did that??”

“Yes!” Jay says, cracking up. “And then I went to find someone to send in there with her.”

Your heart skips.

Heeseung leans back, eyes wide. “You did? Who?”

Jay’s smile falters. His brows furrow. “…I don’t remember.”

Heeseung pauses. “You don’t remember?”

Jake leans in. “You’re joking.”

Jay shakes his head slowly, realizing it in real time. “I swear, I was looking, but I got distracted… but I told Sunoo to put a guy in the closet. So I guess he did.”

The guest room door creaks open.

Riki steps out, one sock missing, hoodie half-zipped, hair a complete mess. He squints at the light like it personally offended him.

Everything’s too loud. His head’s pounding. His throat’s dry.

He shuffles toward the kitchen, grabs a bottle of water, and pauses—hand still on the fridge door.

His eyes widen.

He takes a step back from the fridge like it just burned him.

“…Wait.”

“Morning, lover boy,” Jake calls from the dining table, already noticing marks on his neck.

Riki doesn’t respond. He lifts his hand to his mouth, like that’ll stop the memory from crawling back.

Someone's lips. The way she kissed him like she’d been waiting her whole life to do it. The way she knew what she wanted. The way she never said her name.

He walks to the mirror near the hallway, wiping under his eyes—and that’s when he sees it.

The faint purple bruises blooming just below his jaw.

His heart skips.

Jake leans over, eyebrows lifting. “Riki… what the hell were you doing last night?”

“I—” he starts, but stops. “I don’t know…”

Heeseung eyes him, curious now. “What do you remember?”

Riki’s voice is low, almost like he’s admitting something sacred. “I was in a closet… and I ended up fingering some chick.”

The room goes still.

“You played Seven Minutes in Heaven?” Jay asks, stunned.

Riki shrugs, rubbing his eyes. “I guess? I didn’t know I was playing. I went into a closet and then boom—girl on me.”

Heeseung snorts. “Sounds like you won.”

Jake leans forward. “Wait, for real? Who was she?”

“No idea,” Riki says, already grinning. “Didn’t say her name. Didn’t see her face. It was dark. All I remember is she was hot as hell and clearly needy.”

You peek out from under the blanket, blinking. “Damn, okay, you got lucky.”

“She kissed me like we were in some porno,” Riki goes on, laughing softly. “Clung to me like I was a lifeline. Whiny, needy, insane. I barely survived.”

The boys start howling, half impressed, half curious about who this girl was.

You push the blanket down and sit up, still groggy but amused. “Wow. So you got some and I missed my chance? This is sexist.”

Jay grins. “You had to have hooked up with someone…”

You shake your head. “Not that I remember.”

Riki lets out a laugh.

Right on cue, the hallway door swings open and Sunoo strolls into the kitchen, looking way too awake for someone who witnessed last night’s chaos. His shirt is spotless. His hair somehow perfect. He looks like he got twelve hours of sleep and a therapy session.

“Morning, animals,” he says sweetly, grabbing a piece of toast from Jay’s plate without asking.

Jay glares. “You didn’t even sleep here.”

“Nope,” Sunoo replies, chewing. “I went home after I picked everyone up. That party was getting too crazy.”

He points at each of you as he speaks, like he’s reading out a crime scene report.

“Sunghoon was crying in a corner with a beer in his hand—again. Jungwon kept trying to give him water like he was an emotional support nurse.”

Jungwon groans and drops his head to the table. “He kept saying ‘no hydration can fix this.’”

Sunoo keeps going. “Heeseung and Jay were trying to flirt with a pair of girls from the dance team, but then Jake came out of nowhere, shirt half unbuttoned, talking about crypto and scared them off.”

Jake looks genuinely offended. “I did not mention crypto.”

“You absolutely said something about ‘investing in yourself,’” Jay mutters.

Sunoo continues, calm as ever. “Y/N went feral—flirted with a plant, told someone she was gonna get ‘emotionally wrecked tonight,’ and then someone told me she was trapped in a closet.”

You cover your face. “Oh my god.”

“And Riki,” Sunoo says, spinning to point at him, “got shoved into said closet and fingered a girl during Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

Silence.

Riki chokes on his water.

Jake starts laughing so hard he nearly falls off his chair.

“Bro,” Heeseung wheezes. “Sunoo, how do you say that so casually?”

Sunoo shrugs. “I’m just stating facts.”

Riki coughs, wiping his mouth, ears turning red. “W-Wait—how do you know that?”

“Someone opened the closet looking for a vape and ran away screaming,” Sunoo says, unbothered. “Pretty sure it was some guy named Mark.”

Sunoo hums, then takes another bite of toast. “Anyway, I hope whoever that girl was is okay.”

“She’s fine,” Jake jokes. “Spiritually altered, maybe.”

You laugh, sipping from your water. “Honestly? Same. Should talk to plants more often.”

Jay suddenly frowns, eyes narrowing. “Wait—hold on.”

Everyone turns to look at him.

He points at Sunoo. “You. I told you to shove someone into the closet. For Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

Sunoo nods easily. “Yeah. I remember.”

“Who’d you pick?” Jake asks.

Sunoo chews, swallows, then says it like it’s nothing: “Riki.”

The room goes dead silent.

You freeze mid-sip.

Riki’s bottle slips in his grip.

Jay leans forward. “Wait. You picked Riki?”

“Yeah,” Sunoo says, nodding. “He was just standing near the kitchen. I didn’t see who was in the closet already, but you said pick a guy and toss him in, so I did.”

“…I was in the closet,” you say slowly, staring at him.

Sunoo blinks. “You were?”

You nod.

Sunoo turns to Riki. “And you were the guy I shoved in.”

Riki nods once, eyes wide.

The realization hits the table like a bomb.

“Oh my god,” Jake breathes.

Jay’s jaw drops. “No way.”

Heeseung just bursts into laughter, falling back in his chair. “You two??”

You stare at Riki.

Riki stares at you.

And suddenly—the hoodie, the way he moved, the way he kissed—it all falls into place.

Your stomach flips so hard you feel dizzy. “Oh my god.”

Riki’s ears go red. “Oh my god.”

Jungwon gasps like it’s the season finale of a drama. “WAIT. So it’s true?!”

“I didn’t know!” you shout, covering your face.

Riki leans back in his chair, horrified. “I said she was hot and whiny.”

Jake is crying with laughter. “Bro, you were talking about y/n the entire time!”

Heeseung’s wheezing. “And you—” he points at you— “you were like, ‘Congrats to us!’ like you weren’t congratulating each other!”

You groan and drop your head to the table.

Riki covers his face with both hands, groaning. “I said so much. I’m gonna evaporate.”

“YOU FINGERED HER,” Sunoo screams, pointing in shock.

“SUNOO!!” you yell.

Everyone absolutely loses it.

You storm down the hallway—heart pounding, face hot, feet practically stomping with every step. Behind you, Riki follows—equally flustered, but a little too quiet.

You duck into the first open room and flop face-first onto the bed.

Riki lingers in the doorway for a second, then steps in and shuts the door behind him.

Silence.

You groan into the sheets. “They’re never gonna let us live this down.”

“Nope,” he agrees.

You turn your head to glare at him. “You said I was whiny, Riki.”

“You were,” he says with a half-smirk.

You sit up, squinting. “Don’t.”

He holds up his hands innocently. “Hey. I’m just saying. You were all— ‘closer’—” He mocks a breathy voice, fluttering his lashes. “‘Touch me there—don’t stop—’”

You throw a pillow at his face. “Oh my god!! Shut up!!”

He laughs, catching it. “You started it!”

You groan. “You gave them everything. I could’ve gone my whole life without hearing Sunoo yell the word ‘fingered’ like that.”

He shrugs, grinning. “At least I didn’t tell them you were humping my leg.”

Your jaw drops. “I was not!!”

He leans against the dresser, arms crossed, clearly enjoying himself. “Pretty sure you were. Desperate little thing.”

You grab another pillow. “I will end you.”

He holds his hands up again, but he’s laughing—quiet, cocky, way too smug now that the shock’s worn off.

You narrow your eyes. Then pause.

And smirk.

“Oh yeah?” you say casually, loud enough for your voice to carry.

From the hallway, muffled voices are still chatting. Probably waiting to eavesdrop.

You throw the door open dramatically and shout:

“Riki finished in his pants!!”

The house goes silent.

And then—screams.

“Noooo way!”

“BROOOOOO—”

“HE DID??”

“YOU COULDN'T EVEN WAIT??”

“Not the jeans!!”

Riki’s eyes go wide. “Y/N!!”

You grin like the devil herself and slam the door shut in his face.

“That didn’t even happen!!” he yells through the door.

You’re already laughing, dropping to the floor as the house erupts.

Outside, the guys are screaming with laughter. Jay’s banging on the wall. Jake’s yelling, “YOU SAID YOU BLACKED OUT, NOT BUSTED OUT!”

Riki buries his face in his hands, groaning. “You are so dead.”

You grin up at him from the floor, eyes sparkling. “Guess we’re even now.”

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