wonnienyang

[wonnienyang]

˖*°࿐ •*⁀➷ 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐥?

➜ summary: what happens when your ex-best friend lawyers you into marrying him? exhibit a: the marriage contract you both wrote and signed when you were twelve.

pairing: lhs x f!reader, wc: 18k words , genre: work romance, fluff, slight angst (not really) w: rude jokes, cussing, kissing, implied sex

12 YEARS AGO

Twelve was a ridiculous age.

At twelve, you knew just enough to survive. Water was good. Hunger sucked. Sleep was non-negotiable. You understood that cereal could be dinner if no one stopped you, and that bruises from falling off your bike hurt less than the sting when Park Jongseong, your first middle school crush, told you your pigtails were uneven. For some reason, that hurt.

But love? Love was still the kind of thing you learnt from watching episodes of Phineas and Ferb when you were bored or whatever drama your mum had playing on the TV in the background. You didn’t really understand what it was.

All you knew was that it probably had the same colour and scent as Lee Heeseung.

It was the summer of 2014, and you were lying flat on your stomach across Heeseung’s bedroom carpet, the pattern of the rug imprinting little diamonds into your knees. The fan overhead creaked in slow, lazy circles. Outside, someone’s dog wouldn’t stop barking. Inside, Heeseung was twisting around with a new fidget toy he got from the dollar store. 

“Do you think I’ll have a boyfriend twelve years from now?” you asked, chewing the end of your pencil.

He didn’t even look up. “Beats me.”

“Hee, I’m serious,” you pressed.

With a groan as dramatic as his limbs were long, Heeseung finally glanced up. “What do you even want me to say?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, pencil now balanced horizontally between your upper lip and nose like a moustache. “I’m just thinking.”

Heeseung leaned back against the side of his bed, gaze flicking to the ceiling like the answer might be hidden in the fan’s creaky rotations. “Twelve years from now… we’d be—” He held up a hand, counting quietly. “Twenty-four.”

“That’s the age my parents got married,” you said, as if that somehow doomed you to a ticking clock.

Heeseung made a face. “Gross.”

You frowned, dramatic in the way only preteens could be. “I wanna get married.”

He clicked the fidget toy shut with a snap. “What is it with you and boyfriends lately?”

“I mean… twenty-four is old, Heeseung. Way old.”

“Barely,” he replied, then paused, his brow quirking slightly. “Besides, someone’ll like you.”

You cradled your face in both hands. “What if they don’t?”

He reached out and poked your cheek with the back of his knuckle. “You’re pretty. I’d like you.”

You blinked at him. “You would?”

“Sure.” He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “But not now. You’re weird.”

You cracked a smile. “Hm, so you think I’m pretty… that’s not what Park Jongseong said last week when I beat him at basketball. He said I looked like a ‘sweaty worm.’”

“Oh yeah.” Heeseung snorted, eyes crinkling. “That was funny.”

You launched a cushion at his face in retaliation. He caught it with one hand, barely blinking.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said, tone casual as he dropped the cushion to the floor. “When we’re twenty-four… we’ll get married.”

You blinked. “What? Why?”

“Just in case,” he replied with a shrug. “If you don’t have a boyfriend and I don’t have a girlfriend. Then we’ll get married.”

You stared at him, unsure if he was joking. Heeseung always said ridiculous things—like how he was going to invent a chocolate that never melted, or become the first person to skateboard across the ocean. But this? This was different.

“Really?” This time, you sat up properly, legs crossed beneath you, your heart doing something weird and fluttery in your chest.

“Yeah.” He nodded like it was the most reasonable thing in the world.

“Are you just saying that?”

Heeseung shook his head. “We can pinky swear on it.”

“A pinky swear?” you scoffed, arms folding. “That’s, like, so elementary school. We need something more binding.”

“Like what?”

You rummaged through your pencil case, digging out a crumpled sheet from your favorite Hello Kitty notebook, half-covered in doodles of stars and lopsided flowers. “A contract.”

Heeseung leaned closer, peering over your shoulder as you smoothed the page flat on the carpet. “You’re seriously writing this down?”

“Absolutely.” You grabbed a glitter gel pen and scribbled across the top in loopy, uneven letters: Marriage Pact – Do Not Ignore (Even If You’re Famous or Rich)

Heeseung burst into laughter. “What kind of title is that?”

“A legal one,” you replied seriously, already underlining it twice. “Sign here, please.”

Heeseung took the pen from your hand, tongue sticking out slightly as he wrote his name in slow, deliberate strokes. Then he passed it back.

You signed yours underneath, dotting the “i” in your name with a tiny heart.

And just like that, two twelve-year-olds, were legally bound by glitter ink.

-

12 YEARS LATER

You slammed your apartment mailbox shut with your foot, flipping through the envelopes as you climbed the stairs.

You sighed. “Electric. Insurance. Internet. Phone. Rent. Water,” you muttered, voice rising with each envelope. “Can’t believe we live in a world where they charge us for clean water.”

You shoved the stack under your arm and nudged the apartment door open with your hip, stepping inside and closing it behind you with the heel of your foot.

Jake looked up from the couch. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You held up the bills with a deadpan stare. “If ghosts came in white envelopes and demanded a fuck ton of money, then yeah. Paranormal as hell.”

Jake looked up from the couch, controller still in hand. “Again?”

“Yes, Jaeyun. Bills happen every month. That’s what we signed up for when we became roommates.”

You tossed the stack onto his lap. He sighed and paused his game, the TV screen freezing on a very intense moment in Mario Kart.

He flipped through the envelopes, brows furrowing as he read each one aloud. “Electric. Insurance. Internet. Phone. Rent. Water.”

He looked up at you with disbelief, “Can’t believe we live in a world where they charge us for clean water.”

“That’s what I said!” you replied, dropping your bag by the side of the couch and kicking off your shoes.

Jake was about to make another sarcastic comment, but then he paused.

He squinted at one of the envelopes, holding it up by its edge like it might bite. “What’s a Lee Heeseung?”

You stilled. “…What do you mean?”

Jake held it up with two fingers like it was radioactive. “Someone named Lee Heeseung addressed a letter to you. Wait…Lee Heeseung… sounds familiar. Isn’t this the guy who–”

You lunged forward, snatching the envelope out of his hands so fast the paper rustled.

He started to stand. “Wait—���

But you were already on your feet, clutching the envelope to your chest like it held state secrets.

“I’m going to my room,” you said quickly, already halfway down the hall.

Jake called after you, “You can’t just run away!”

But you were gone.

You dropped the envelope onto your desk and began pacing, feet dragging slightly over the worn hardwood floor. Back and forth. Hands on your hips, then rubbing the back of your neck, then up through your hair like you could physically scrape the panic out of your scalp.

Lee Heeseung.

You hadn’t heard that name in six years. Not since you were 18. What the hell was he doing sending you letters after 6 years of ghosting you? Letters, of all things. Not a text. Not an email. A letter.

You rubbed your face with both palms, fingers pressing into your temples. Your entire body felt tight with confusion. 

You stared at the envelope for a long second.

Should I open it? you asked yourself.

Your fingers twitched.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you were already tearing into the envelope, clumsily slicing the top open with your nail. The paper ripped slightly at the corner from how fast your hands moved. The letter slid out, crisp and neatly folded.

You read it, then stood in silence, blinking. Mouth open. Eyes wide. Brain empty. You were confused. Stunned. A little stoned but from shock. Absolutely floored. Like someone had drop-kicked your frontal lobe.

This letter is to formally present the enclosed documentation for legal execution of a prior agreement, namely a childhood contract between yourself and one Mr. Lee Heeseung. The aforementioned contract, signed voluntarily at age twelve, contained a clause regarding marital union at the age of twenty-four should both parties remain unwed.  Pursuant to this clause, Mr. Lee Heeseung has submitted the original document, legally notarized, and formally requests your signature on the attached marriage certificate to fulfil the terms of said agreement.  Please review the enclosed documents at your earliest convenience. For any clarifications, feel free to contact our office or Mr. Lee directly.

Your mouth moved but to be honest, all you could manage was:

“What the fuck is wrong with him.”

-

You were late.

You weren’t usually late. In fact, you were one of those annoying people who showed up fifteen minutes ahead of time and still apologised for making others wait. But today? Today was the one day you really didn’t want to be late.

Your first day at your big girl job and here you were, sprinting toward the building that held your future career by its palm.

​​Your shoulder bag bounced wildly against your side as you dodged a man holding a suspiciously large iced coffee, barely avoiding a full-blown caffeine collision. The turnstile doors loomed ahead sleek and metallic. You jabbed your access card against the reader. You slipped through and finally looked up.

And then you saw Jake.

“Hurry up!” he called, gesturing frantically as the elevator chimed. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into getting the bus without you.”

You jogged over, breathless. “Well you’d be late and you know I get the nervous poops.”

He glanced at his watch. “Yeah but couldn’t you have held it in? You know how they say the first impression counts.”

You rolled your eyes as you stepped in beside him. “They also say to surround yourself with supportive friends, but look how that turned out.”

Jake grinned, holding the door for you. “Touché.”

The elevator doors slid shut with a polished ding, sealing you and Jake into a box of brushed metal and awkward first-day jitters.

“I still can’t believe we got the last two spots at Aureum,” You said, “The Aureum.”

“Well,” Jake  said, trying to catch his breath, “we fought our way here and beat out that no-good Park Eunmi and her bratty—”

“Jake.” You shot him a warning look. “We’re adults now. We don’t go around talking shit about people we won’t even be seeing anymore.”

He blinked. “Weren’t you the same person who called her, and I quote, a ‘two-faced conniving bitch’ yesterday?”

“Like I said,” you replied, smoothing your blouse, “I’m an adult now.”

As two of the newest Junior Marketing Associates, you and Jake had beat out over a hundred applicants. A hundred other applicants who probably practiced their interview answers in the mirror a million times before. And somehow, two under-slept twenty-somethings from a shared apartment with a broken microwave made it through.

Your eyes flicked around the office, trying to drink it all in, endless cubicles with glowing monitors, people tapping away at keyboards like they were born doing it, voices murmuring through headsets, and behind closed doors, offices that belonged to people with email signatures way fancier than yours.

You clutched your lanyard a little tighter. 

“Come on in, guys. Sit down, sit down.” A man in a blazer and slacks stood by the doorway, gesturing everyone inside with brisk efficiency. His voice was clear, professional, and used to being listened to.

You followed Jake into the room, quietly settling into one of the twelve chairs arranged in a half-circle around a low conference table. The space was bright, glass walls on one side, soft overhead lighting, and a large flat-screen monitor mounted neatly in front. A clicker and laptop sat idle on the table. The chairs were surprisingly comfortable.

“I’m Park Jongseong,” the man announced once everyone had filtered in. “We’ll be starting orientation in about five minutes. We’re just waiting for the head of department to arrive, and then we’ll get going.”

The name hit you oddly. A little familiar. Park Jongseong. It tugged at the back of your memory, but you brushed it off. Probably a coincidence. Jongseong wasn’t exactly rare.

He continued, tone practised. “Before that, let’s take attendance. Please scan the QR code on the screen, log in using your company ID, and mark yourself as ‘present.’”

The screen flickered to display the code. A few people reached for their phones immediately.

“If you have any questions, feel free to ask,” he added, hands clasped in front of him, his expression neutral but approachable. The lanyard hanging around his neck read Human Resources – Manager. That explained the ease, the polished tone. He’d clearly done this many times before.

You unlocked your phone and scanned the code, fingers moving over the login screen. Jake leaned over slightly to peek at your screen, making sure he was doing the same thing right.

You tried to focus, but the name still lingered somewhere in your mind. Park Jongseong.

You shook your head, returning your attention to the task at hand.

It couldn’t be. Not that Jongseong. Right?

“Okay, he’s here,” Jongseong said, glancing toward the glass wall. He gave a quick nod to someone just out of sight. “Please use my company email if you have any HR-related issues. Thank you, and I’ll see all of you after this session.”

He stepped aside, and a man entered the room.

“Good morning everyone, I’m the head of department,” the newcomer said, tone cool and efficient. “For anything related to your job, your submissions, deadlines, or team responsibilities, they will come through me. Understood?”

A quiet chorus of nods followed. You nodded too, still focused on your phone screen. It was taking forever to load. You squinted, trying to figure out why, until you realised you’d typed your employee ID wrong. You had tapped 7 instead of 6.

You tapped back, correcting it, only half-hearing the voice that came next.

“Right,” came a quiet chuckle. The voice was warmer this time, slightly amused. Familiar. “Sorry—I forgot the intro bit. I’m Lee Heeseung. You can call me whatever feels comfortable."

Your finger froze on the screen.

The pen you had been holding slipped from your hand and hit the floor with a small clack. You stood up so quickly your chair scraped the polished floor, every eye in the room swivelling toward you.

Heeseung paused mid-sentence, glancing in your direction. His gaze landed on you and stayed.

Your breath caught. Your brain refused to supply anything useful, like words.

Heeseung blinked, the faintest trace of recognition crossing his face but he said nothing.

“Is there an issue?” Jongseong looked up from his tablet, glancing around before his eyes landed on you. His brow furrowed slightly. “Hey, aren’t you—”

“No.” You shook your head a little too quickly, a little too firmly. “Nope.”

“But you’re—”

“Not her.”

Jongseong paused. “You didn’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I’m not who you think I am,” you replied, already feeling the heat rise to your face.

“But how do you know who I’m thinking about?” he countered, eyes narrowing slightly.

There was a long, loaded beat of silence. You could feel Jake watching your exchange, an eyebrow raised.

You exhaled.

“Okay,” you muttered, shoulders slumping slightly. “I’m her.”

“I knew it,” Jongseong said with a grin, nudging Heeseung with his elbow. “I told you she looked familiar. Didn’t you just send her that stupid lawyer–”

Heeseung cut in, his voice even. “That’s enough.”

The room was silent. 

You cleared your throat, brushing your hair behind your ear and reaching for your pen like none of that had just happened. “Anyway. Please continue, Mr. Lee.”

“Of course,” he said smoothly, stepping to the front of the room. “Where were we?”

And just like that, orientation resumed.

You sat stiffly in your seat, eyes glued to the screen at the front, pretending to take notes on the company’s mission statement while internally drafting your resignation letter in all caps.

You could feel it.

That unmistakable weight of a stare, burning, pointed, patient. Heeseung’s gaze practically drilled through the crown of your head. And you couldn’t bring yourself to look up. Not once. Not even when Jake elbowed you under the table, trying to stifle a grin.

Unbelievable. Out of all the possible outcomes in this capitalist hellscape, this was what you got?

As if that wasn’t enough to emotionally flatten you, you'd also just received a letter from his lawyers three days ago.

Because apparently, a glitter-gel-penned contract you made when you were twelve still counted.

-

“What the fuck was that?” Jake hissed, yanking you halfway out of your new ergonomic chair before you could even take a seat.

You blinked up at him. “What do you mean?”

He gestured vaguely toward the hallway. “The whole thing with Mr. Lee and Park Jong… something.”

“Seong. It’s Park Jongseong,” you corrected, brushing down the front of your blouse as you stood properly this time.

“Yeah, that. What was that about?”

You glanced around quickly. The office floor was open-concept, dotted with neatly arranged cubicles, each one separated by low partitions and decorated with cheerful onboarding folders and branded pens. Too many ears. Too much glass.

“Could you not ask me about it when his office is right there?” you muttered, trying not to move your lips too much.

As if summoned, the two of you instinctively turned your heads.

Heeseung’s office sat just a few feet away. And through the transparent wall, you saw him.

Already looking. Directly at you.

You and Jake immediately snapped your heads back around like guilty children caught cheating on a test.

You could feel the heat rush to your face. Jake ran a hand through his hair and muttered, “He definitely saw that.”

“Of course he did,” you whispered.

“Okay. Lunch,” Jake said, already tugging on your sleeve. “You’re telling me everything.”

-

“Do you remember that guy I told you about… when we first met?” you began cautiously, already regretting this entire conversation.

Jake didn’t even blink. “The almost ex who broke your heart? The one who vanished without a word, no texts, no emails, just poof? The guy you cried over every night for the first two months we shared a dorm? That guy? The one who had you in sweatpants for so long our professor personally pulled you aside after our first group presentation to suggest dressing like you hadn’t just escaped a deadly house fire?”

You gritted your teeth. “You could’ve just said yes.”

“I like my answer better,” Jake replied, flashing that annoyingly smug grin of his.

You rolled your eyes, arms folding over your chest. “Fine. Yes. It’s… that guy.”

Jake’s eyes widened so fast. “Holy fuck. Wasn’t he the one who, correct me if I’m wrong, lawyered you into marrying him like 3 days ago?”

You nodded slowly. “I doubt it’s even legal, but… yes.”

Jake leaned back in his chair, the disbelief painted across his face shifting into something almost amused. “This is highly coincidental,” he said, voice rich with sarcasm. “Almost like…it's fate.”

You stared at him for a beat, then stabbed your spoon into your bowl and shoved a mouthful of meat in before mumbling through it, “If this is what fate is, then fate’s a fucking bitch.”

-

“Do you think they’re dating?” Heeseung asked, eyes fixed on the other side of the company cafeteria. 

Jongseong followed his line of sight.

Across the room, you and Jake were seated at a small corner table, trays pushed aside, both of you laughing, loud and unbothered.. You were leaned in close, practically in tears from whatever Jake had just said.

“Looks friendly to me,” Jongseong shrugged. “Don’t tell me you’re still in love with her. Thought you hated her.”

“I do,” Heeseung said quickly. “It’s just—I don’t know. I mean… she was right in some sense.”

Jongseong didn’t miss a beat. “Dude, she didn’t even show up at the airport. You waited there like an idiot until the last minute. You almost missed your flight.”

Heeseung gave a tight laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe she was busy…”

Jongseong raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, I don’t blame her,” Heeseung said quickly. “She was scared. She thought long distance would ruin us. That we’d fall apart, stop being friends, stop meaning something to each other.”

Jongseong turned his head, slow and deliberate, fixing him with that look, the one he always gave before saying something brutally true.

“Well,” he said, voice calm, “are you friends now?”

Heeseung said nothing.

“Didn’t think so,” Jongseong muttered, then grinned as he picked up a piece of kimchi. “Are you also forgetting who you video called the first hundred times you cried in Canada?”

“Why do you love bringing that up?” Heeseung groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

Jongseong took a long, smug sip of his drink, barely suppressing a grin. He turned back to his tray of cafeteria food before pointing his chopsticks at Heeseung like they were an accusation. “Because it’s funny.”

Heeseung didn’t respond, just glared at his soup.

Jongseong raised an eyebrow. “So by the looks of it, I’m guessing you really got Beomgyu to send that lawyer letter to scare her?”

“To be fair,” Heeseung muttered, “I didn’t know she’d end up under me.”

“You’re an idiot,” Jongseong said through a mouthful of rice, chuckling as he shook his head. “But if you wanna get all weirdly poetic about it, I guess this is kinda like destiny, isn’t it?”

Heeseung stared down at his tray, “Well,” he muttered, “if this is destiny then destiny’s a fucking bitch.”

-

Listen…Heeseung was smart.

He climbed Aureum’s corporate ladder in less than two years, thanks to an impressive portfolio born out of his time in Canada. Moving there had been a blessing in disguise. Academically, professionally, it launched him. He made the most of it. Graduated top of his class, turned internships into job offers, turned job offers into power.

But for all of Heeseung’s intelligence, his work ethic, and his calculated rise, if there was one thing he was consistently stupid about, it was you. He didn’t understand it. In fact, he couldn’t even explain it. You were the one area of his life that turned logic into mush and rationality into dust.

It started as a joke. A stupid, drunken mistake that should’ve stayed buried under the dim lights of some bar on a Thursday night.

It was happy hour. He and Jongseong were at their usual spot, a watering hole they swore they were too old for but kept returning to anyway. One tequila turned into four. Somewhere between rounds, Heeseung started rambling, slurred sentences about you, the past, and that dumb glitter-pen marriage pact you’d made when you were kids.

Jongseong, drunk and equally dumb, grinned and said, “Dude. You should actually send her something. Like get lawyers involved. Just to freak her out.”

Heeseung, handsome as ever and dumb as a fork, blinked. His eyes widened. “Wait. That’s… actually kind of funny.”

“No it’s not,” Jongseong had said, already laughing. “That’s what makes it brilliant.”

Which is how, somewhere around midnight, Heeseung scrolled through his contacts, called the first legal name he recognised, Choi Beomgyu, law school graduate, part-time legal consultant and said:

“Hey, can you help me draft a marriage contract?”

-

It had been two days since you started working at Aureum.

Coincidentally, it had also been two days since Heeseung had done any actual work.

Each morning, like clockwork, he walked in, tailored suit, briefcase in hand, and Prada shoes. He placed his bag neatly on the desk, powered on his computer, clicked into his emails… and then lost all sense of purpose. The first thing he did every morning was type a message to Jongseong. 

Subject: emergency i madonna die i mgona die shes lookihng voer pretty pretty u think shell love me back ohne day? Actually im jk i hate her but if hate why prtty? omg shes lookg voer...pretend teim oding work im doing many work work is fun work is cool Work . im work Best Regards Lee Heeseung Head of Marketing | Aureum & Co. 📞 +82-10-XXXX-XXXX ✉️ heeseung.lee@aureumcorp.kr 🌐 www.aureumcorp.kr “We don’t do average.”

He’d hit send. Then he'd type a second variation and send that too. On the first day, Jongseong had replied with “You good?” On the second, he didn’t respond at all. By day three, Heeseung didn’t even expect a reply. He was just venting into the void.

Heeseung told himself he just wanted a moment. A single conversation. A little closure. Maybe an opportunity to push your buttons, mess with you, throw you off your game. Because as far as he was concerned, you still owed him that. And now, here you were.

Still stupidly, infuriatingly pretty.

-

He sat behind his desk, legs crossed under the polished oak surface, sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms, eyes fixed on the list of new hires. 

But all Heeseung cared about was one thing: getting you alone.

He had crafted a plan that was equal parts desperate and genius, hosting a Getting to Know You session for each new employee. No one could question it. 

Nishimura Riki—Ni-ki. A boy with his hoodie still half-zipped, hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks like he was allergic to authority. He entered without knocking, took the seat opposite Heeseung with zero urgency, and stared blankly at the offered glass of water. Said maybe six words in ten minutes. Heeseung didn’t mind. He respected the quiet ones. Good for him.

Next came Kim Sunoo.

He bounced into the room like the sunlight had a personality and sat with both palms flat on the table like he was bracing for takeoff. Heeseung barely finished the question—“How’s working here so far?”—before Sunoo launched into a detailed narrative about his family, his dead turtle, and the emotional trauma of overwatering a succulent. At one point, he teared up. Heeseung slid the tissue box across the table silently. You know what, good for him too.

Then came Yang Jungwon.

Jungwon knocked twice, entered with a clipboard, and sat like a model intern. His back straight, pen ready, shoes perfectly aligned under the chair. He answered every question clearly, thoughtfully, and didn’t overshare once. Heeseung liked him. He even made a note in the corner of his notepad: Promotion material.

And then Jake Sim.

Jake entered all smiles and sunshine, like he was walking into a brunch spot instead of a corporate office. His tie was off-centre. Shirt sleeves rolled too high. Hair a little too perfect. He slid into the chair across from Heeseung, crossed one ankle over his knee like he owned the place, and grinned.

“Good afternoon, sir.”

The office suddenly felt hotter. Like the air conditioning had given up. Heeseung straightened the papers on his desk even though they were already perfectly aligned, mostly just to stop himself from flipping the table.

“So,” he started, lacing his fingers together and leaning forward with faux interest, “do you see yourself working here long?”

Jake nodded, no hesitation. “Yeah, working at Aureum is honestly a dream. It’s been on my list of dream companies since uni.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow. “One of your dream companies?”

Jake blinked. “Uh—well, yeah. I mean, I had a few, but Aureum was definitely—”

“So what you mean to say,” Heeseung said, leaning back slowly in his chair with a smile that was definitely not a smile, “is that you’re disloyal.”

Jake froze. “What? No! That’s not—”

Heeseung picked up his pen and made a note on the paper in front of him. It had nothing to do with Jake. He just wrote ‘boring. lame. has uglier hair than me.”

He didn’t hate Jake Sim.

He despised him.

No real reason, of course. Except that Jake seemed to be exactly the kind of person you were comfortable around. The kind you laughed too easily with. The kind you sat next to at lunch and leaned into like it was natural. Didn't help that Jake was incredibly suave and handsome. Damn it.

It wasn’t personal.

Except it completely was.

Heeseung exhaled as soon as Jake left the room, running a hand through his hair and glancing at the final name on the list.

Your name.

He cleared his throat, stood up, and walked to the small mirror near the bookshelf to fix his hair, like that would somehow fix everything else.

And for the first time all day, Heeseung felt nervous.

You cleared your throat, then knocked. Heeseung looked up instantly.

His smile appeared before he could stop it, quick and unguarded, warm enough to light the whole damn office. Then, as if remembering himself, it vanished just as fast. His expression flattened into something more controlled. Nonchalance, he reminded himself. Be cool.

But it was hard to be anything close to composed with you standing there. Your head poked through the doorway, eyes bright and curious. That little hairclip still holding your bangs to the side, the same way you used to wear it when you were younger. Your hair fell in soft waves over your shoulder, reaching just past your waist. It swayed slightly as you tilted your head.

“Can I come in?” you asked, voice soft.

“Yeah,” he said, sitting up straighter, shoving a file to the side like he hadn’t just been zoning out for ten full minutes. “Of course.”

Heeseung gestured to the chair across from him, and you made your way over, smoothing the front of your blouse before sitting down. The cushion dipped beneath you, and for a moment, you didn’t speak. Neither did he.

Heeseung cleared his throat. “Well… I already know you.”

You looked up.

A small pause.

“Do you want me to go?” you asked, half-standing.

“No!” he blurted, way too fast. He cleared his throat again, more controlled this time. 

Heeseung leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the desk, fingers tapping once against the wood before stilling. He glanced down at the paper in front of him, your employee profile probably and cleared his throat.

“So,” he began, voice measured, “you’ve been placed in the campaign strategy team.”

You nodded. “Yeah. That’s what the onboarding email said.”

He hummed, eyes scanning the paper like he didn’t already know what it said. “You’ll be working on the upcoming brand relaunch. A lot of external collaboration, internal pressure, long hours.”

“I’m okay with that.”

“You sure?” He looked up now, eyes sharp. “Because I need people who follow through. Who don’t just start strong and then bail when things get inconvenient.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

Heeseung shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “I’m asking if you’re the kind of person who sticks around when things get hard. Or if you’re more of a… run-and-disappear type.”

There was a pause. 

You stared at him, jaw tightening. “Is this about Aureum, or about us?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

And that was answer enough.

Something in your chest twisted. “Because if you want to drag the past into this, you better say it plainly. Don’t wrap it up in company protocol and pretend it’s part of my fucking job description.”

And then, quieter, more bitter, he added, “It’s just… I thought you were serious about things. But apparently, you were only serious when it was easy.”

The room felt colder.

You inhaled slowly, the words slipping out before your brain could catch up. “You left. Not me.”

Heeseung flinched but you caught it. That flicker of something raw behind his eyes. But then, just as quickly, his expression closed over, sharp and unreadable again.

“No,” he said flatly. “You left first.”

Your breath hitched. “How did I—?”

“I needed you,” he cut in, his voice low, rough, brimming with a bitterness that stung more than you were ready for. “I could’ve used support. A friend. Anything. But the girl I loved the most—” his jaw tightened, “—she left me first.”

“I—”

“So before you paint me out to be the villain,” he said, his eyes dark, voice thick with something between anger and heartbreak, “think about how you ignored me after I told you I loved you.”

Your mouth opened, then closed, your chest rising and falling too quickly. “I didn’t ignore you because of that—I…” The words caught in your throat like they were afraid to come out. “How was I supposed to react? We finally—finally—got together and then right after, you told me you were leaving.”

“It wasn’t my choice!” he shouted, the words shattering between you like glass.

There was silence after that. Not the passive kind, but the kind that stung, like a slap in the middle of a quiet room.

“Mr. Lee,” you said, tone cool, professional, clipped. “I would like to leave now, since this meeting has had nothing to do with my job and everything to do with some attempt to lower my pride or exert some kind of personal power play that I don’t want any part of.”

You reached for the doorknob. And that’s when he panicked.

His mind raced, grasping at anything, everything, until one sentence tumbled out of his mouth like the world’s worst reflex.

“You’re supposed to be marrying me.”

The words dropped heavy into the room like a weight you hadn’t seen coming. You froze, hand still on the doorknob, back turned, breath caught somewhere in your chest.

“Did you think that lawyer letter was a joke?” His voice was quieter now, but there was something about the way he said it—like he was testing the air between you, like he wasn’t sure if you’d laugh or scream.

Slowly, you turned around, brows drawn together, the confusion and disbelief etched across your face. “Heeseung, that was a contract from when we were kids. Do you really think I’m some kind of idiot?”

He didn’t flinch. “It still stands actually… unless you want to get sued.”

You blinked. “Are you fucking with me?”

Heeseung held your gaze, mouth twitching into a slow, lopsided smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Do I look like I’m fucking with you?”

And then, he started walking toward you. Steady, unhurried steps that somehow made the air feel thinner with every inch he closed between you. Your heart began to pound erratically in your chest, loud enough you were almost certain he could hear it. Damn him for looking like that—like a fucking model in fitted slacks and a shirt that clung just right to his frame.

He stopped in front of you, close enough for you to catch the faintest scent of his cologne, clean and a little woodsy. God, he was hot.

“Because I’m not.”

“You are insane!” you hissed, voice rising.

“I’m not the one yelling in a see-through office,” he replied, gesturing lazily to the glass walls.

You paused, suddenly aware of the four to five people from accounting who were staring directly at the scene. You cleared your throat and lowered your voice only slightly. “I am not marrying you, Heeseung.”

He clicked his tongue and placed his tea down. “Did you read the bottom? The fine print?”

“I’m not reading anything that came from you and your fuckass lawyer,” you snapped.

Heeseung sighed, took off his glasses, and rubbed his temples like you were the one being unreasonable. “If you bothered to read a very legal document, you’d know that... it’s either marriage,” he paused to take another sip, “or you pay $20,000.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“$20,000,” he repeated, a little too casually. “As outlined clearly in the exit clause.”

Your jaw dropped. “And where is a girl who JUST started working supposed to get that kind of money?”

Heeseung shrugged, stepping closer. His footsteps were slow, annoyingly calm. He stopped right in front of you and gently lifted your chin with two fingers, like he was mocking you. “Well,” he said, voice low and irritatingly smug, “that’s up to you.”

You swatted his hand away, hard. “I am not marrying you,” you repeated, practically growling.

“So you’re giving me the $20,000 then?” he offered again, tilting his head, lips forming a mock pout.

You narrowed your eyes, then without thinking, leaned in and bit his fingers.

“OW—what the f—” He jerked his hand back with a laugh. 

“I should’ve bit your face,” you muttered.

Heeseung grinned through the sting, shaking his hand. “Or... and I’m just spitballing here,” he said, stepping back with an exaggerated stretch, “I let you go—no marriage, no payment—if you do everything I say for one year.”

You stared at him like he’d grown three heads. “You’ve lost your mind.”

“Come on,” he said, tilting his head slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. “Just a year of doing whatever I say.”

You crossed your arms. “Three months.”

“Eight,” he shot back, without missing a beat.

“Four.”

“Six.”

You squinted at him. “Five and I don’t get you coffee.”

“Nope. Six, and you do exactly what I say.”

The air between you crackled, neither of you willing to back down. You stepped closer, closing the space between you with slow, deliberate steps until you were standing toe-to-toe in front of his desk. He didn’t flinch. If anything, he leaned in, eyes dark with challenge, the corners of his mouth curling like he was already claiming victory.

Your nose nearly brushed his. “Fine,” you hissed. “Six months. But if you so much as make me iron your stupid ass fancy Prada suit, I’m out.”

“Okay,” Heeseung said smoothly, his voice low and maddeningly smug. His breath fanned your face. “But you should know, I don’t wear wrinkled suits.”

-

And thus began the worst month of your life.

Day 1: He made you sort his alphabetised collection of business cards… in cursive. Handwritten. On new cards. With a quill. “It builds character,” he said..

Day 5: He scheduled a client meeting at 7am. You arrived. There was no client. He strolled in at 10 with a latte and said, “Wow. You’re early. How driven.”

Day 6: Assigned you to shadow a client. You followed a random man around a bookstore for 45 minutes before he texted: “Wrong guy btw.”

Day 9: Email subject line: “URGENT – FOOT EMERGENCY.” The body? “Buy me socks.” No context. Follow-up email: “With little cartoon frogs. The happier the better.”

Day 11: He asked you to water the plants in his office. None were real. One was a coat rack. You watered it anyway. He thanked you with a straight face.

Day 13: He demanded lunch delivered to his apartment. On your break. You found him mid-couch, watching Shrek 2 with subtitles and a face mask on. “Wanna join me?”

Day 16: Made you create a 23-slide presentation titled: “Why Lee Heeseung Is the Greatest Asset to This Company and Mankind.” You had to present it. To two confused interns and Park Jongseong, who heckled the whole time.

Day 18: Sent you to buy exactly 50 blueberries. “Not 49. Not 51. 50. Count them.” You did. The cashier thought you were insane.

Day 23: Assigned you to “reorganise the supply cabinet.” Inside was a single banana, a picture of himself and Jongseong’s car keys.

God. you hated Lee Heeseung.

-

The soft clink of chopsticks against a lunch container echoed across the sleek, minimal office. Jongseong sat casually on Heeseung’s guest couch, feet kicked up, poking at his lunch.

“You know,” Jongseong began between bites, “this little revenge you’ve got going on? Don’t you think it’s starting to get a little...much?”

Heeseung didn’t look up. “What’s much?”

“You made her pretend to be a floor tile last week.”

Heeseung barely blinked, expression flat.

“And to be fair, she was very convincing,” he muttered, like it was a genuine compliment.

Jongseong set his chopsticks down, suddenly serious. “Hee. Be honest. Are you trying to punish her, or are you just scared to talk to her like a normal human being?”

Heeseung’s lips parted, but no words came out. His jaw flexed. The silence stretched, and for the first time in weeks, he hesitated.

“I don’t know,” he finally said, voice lower than usual. 

Just then, the door swung open. You strode in without knocking, your eyes on fire and your movements sharper than necessary. You slammed a paper bag on his desk, the contents shifting loudly inside.

“Here’s your goddamn lunch,” you snapped, not sparing him a glance.

And before he could even process the noise, you turned on your heel and stormed out, leaving the door wide open in your wake.

A beat of stunned silence passed.

Jongseong blinked. “You sure she’s not poisoning that?”

Heeseung finally looked down at the crumpled paper bag, then at the door you’d stormed out through. He didn’t move for a moment, fingers hovering near the bag, like it might explode.

Then, with a low sigh, he leaned back in his chair, swivelling slightly toward Jongseong. “Can you check if she’s had lunch?”

Jongseong narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“I’m just saying, she’s been running around all morning like a lunatic. Maybe she skipped lunch.”

“Why don’t you check yourself?” Jongseong smirked, already enjoying this. “Or better yet, pack it for her next time. Maybe write a little note with hearts on it.”

Heeseung groaned and rubbed his face with one hand. “Jesus. I’m not in love with her.”

“I never said love,” Jongseong sang. “You did.”

Heeseung glared at him. “I’m just doing what a responsible boss would do. Basic leadership. Workforce efficiency. You know, keeping employees from fainting.”

“By micromanaging her blood sugar?”

Heeseung pointed at him, still scowling. “Shut up and just go check.”

Jongseong stood, grabbing his soda and grinning. “Whatever you say, boss.”

As he walked out, he muttered just loud enough for Heeseung to hear, “Bet if she skipped lunch, you’d hand-feed her a five-course meal.”

Heeseung didn’t respond. He just turned back to the lunch bag and quietly moved it a little closer to his side of the desk.

-

You were done. You hated Lee Heeseung with every fibre of your being.

You had been mid-task, setting up a fragile product display for a major investor walkthrough—when the shelf gave way beneath your hand. One of the glass panels slipped, and in your rush to keep it from shattering, your palm dragged hard against the sharp metal edge of the support frame. You hissed, sucking in a breath as pain bloomed across your skin, followed by a streak of red pooling fast..

It wasn’t life-threatening, but it was definitely more than a paper cut. You stood frozen for a second, blood dripping onto the glossy marble floor, the scent of antiseptic and showroom polish mixing unpleasantly in the air.

Heeseung was across the room but moved in an instant, almost stupidly concerned. “Are you okay?” he asked, voice sharp with something that sounded a lot like panic.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, clenching your hand as if squeezing the pain away.

“Let me see.” He was already digging in the drawer for the office first aid kit, grabbing a pack of antiseptic wipes and a bandage like it was muscle memory.

You pulled your hand away before he could touch you. “Can I go now?”

He froze. “I’m just trying to help. Stop being so stubborn.”

You stared at him, incredulous. “Are you serious right now? You’re the one who sent me to fix a million-dollar display alone. Don’t act like you suddenly care.”

Then you walked off without another word, your wound throbbing in time with the storm brewing behind your ribs.

Heeseung stood there, staring at the streak of blood you left behind on the polished floor. The silence in the showroom echoed louder than it should’ve. The first aid kit was still in his hands, unopened. For once, he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

Had he been too harsh?

The thought circled, bitter and biting. He meant to keep things light, or at least ridiculous. Make you squirm a little. Maybe even get back at you for leaving him all those years ago. But this? Watching you walk away, shoulders tense, hand bleeding—this didn’t feel like winning.

It felt like being the asshole.

He set the first aid kit down a little too hard on the nearest counter and exhaled slowly. Damn it. He hadn’t wanted to actually hurt you.

Maybe Jongseong was right. Maybe this whole thing was going too far.

And maybe, just maybe, he needed to stop acting like he wasn’t still in love with you.

But god, you made it so damn hard.

-

You hadn’t spoken to him. Not once. Not since that night.

You hated what he’d turned into, this cold, distant version of the boy who once knew you like the back of his hand. He was still familiar, his face carved a little finer now, his jaw set a little firmer, but everything else? Foreign. A stranger wrapped in the skin of someone you used to love.

He used to be yours.

The boy who’d race across districts just to find that one ridiculous snack you were obsessed with because the local mart ran out. The one who never let you cry alone, whose hoodie always smelled like laundry powder and peanuts, who sat silently beside you, his arm around your shoulder, steady as a heartbeat.

He wasn’t that boy anymore. He wasn’t the one who once turned to you, eyes soft and sure, and said, I love you.

Not anymore.

But somehow, even through the pounding in your chest and the sting behind your eyes, you couldn’t help but feel it, that awful, twisting weight in your stomach. Guilt.

Because he was right.

You had left him first. You had pulled away. When he needed you the most, you had shut down, locked the door, and disappeared behind your own fear.

He was scared. Of course he was. Scared of leaving everything behind. Scared of starting over in a place where no one knew his name or the way he liked his coffee or how he bit his lip when he was nervous. Scared of being alone in a country halfway across the world. And the only person he had counted on to be his constant, you, had walked away.

-

6 YEARS AGO

Heeseung’s palms were sweating. His grip on the bouquet tightened, the white petals of the daisies trembling ever so slightly, your favourite flower. He glanced at his watch, then at his shoes, then back again, heart pounding louder with each passing second. It was noon. You’d be here any moment.

And he felt like he might be sick.

Just yesterday, everything had changed. His parents had sat him down with carefully measured smiles and voices too gentle to be comforting, ‘We’re moving to Canada. It’s a good opportunity. It’s what’s best for the family.’

But what about him? What about you?

His throat turned dry, mouth full of words he didn’t know how to say.

Today was supposed to be your first date. The start of something new, something real. Just two days ago, he’d stood under the willow tree with shaking hands and a confession written at the back of his hand. Then, he’d told you he liked you. And you had kissed him for the first time. 

This day was meant to be perfect. But now, all he could feel was the weight of goodbye on his shoulders and it stunk.

And then there you were.

Pretty as ever, like he hadn't just found out his universe was crashing just the day before. You waltzed into view with a skip in your step, a loose, ribboned blouse tucked into jeans, your hair tied up in a ponytail that swayed with every bounce. Your eyes were wide, full of light, full of him, and everything in you screamed excitement for the day ahead.

“Flowers?” you grinned, raising a brow. “Didn’t think you were the type.”

Heeseung’s lips curved before he could stop them. “Then maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought.”

And just like that, the knot in his chest loosened. Just like that, he remembered how you always made him feel. Like everything was okay even when nothing was.

Then you smiled. And he was wrecked all over again.

You reached out, fingers finding his, lacing them together. “So…” you murmured as your hands swung between you, “where we going today?”

“I’m not one to spill secrets.”

“Oh? And is it a crime to wonder what my best friend has planned for our very first date?”

Heeseung winced playfully, biting his lip. “God, the word friend is starting to drive me insane.”

You laughed, soft and teasing. “Well, you haven’t actually asked, so I can’t just go around calling myself your girlfriend. That’d be… desperate.”

“You could reek of desperation,” he said, gaze steady, “and I think I’d still be in love with you.”

You let out a low whistle, raising a brow. “Damn. Dropping the L bomb already?” You leaned in with a crooked grin. “Didn’t peg you as a simp, Lee.”

“And I didn’t peg you as a hater,” Heeseung shot back, his smile matching yours.

Heeseung led you down a winding trail, hand in hand, until the trees parted to reveal a quiet creek. The afternoon sun filtered through the leaves. A few couples lounged on checkered blankets, laughter drifting through the breeze. It was peaceful, idyllic.

“Ta-da,” he said, stepping aside with a grin so wide it made your heart stutter.

Before you was his surprise: a small picnic set up just for the two of you. A rattan mat stretched across the grass, a modest basket nestled in the middle. Inside were some store-bought sandwiches, your favourite yoghurt drinks, and tucked beside it all, two small square canvases with a neat set of watercolours.

“We’re painting,” he announced proudly.

You stared at him, then burst into laughter. “So we’re being secretive and artsy now? Who are you and what have you done with Lee Heeseung?”

He nudged your shoulder, feigning offense. “Hey, I can be romantic.”

“Oh please, you totally stole this off Pinterest.”

“Guilty,” he admitted shamelessly. “Honestly, it’s a miracle I even got Jongseong to help set this up while I distracted you.”

As if summoned by name, Jongseong emerged from behind a tree with a dramatic sigh.

“I swear, I do the darndest things for you,” he muttered, stepping into view, brushing off invisible dirt. “Now enjoy, lovebirds. Just remember, if the ravens start circling and steal your food, don’t come crying to me.”

The two of you had spent hours painting and teasing, talking over each other, laughing so hard it echoed off the trees.

“That’s supposed to be me?” you scoffed, squinting at his canvas. “Why are my eyes two completely different sizes?”

“It’s a work in progress,” Heeseung said, scandalised, snatching the canvas back. “Stop looking at mine!”

“I can’t help it! It’s like watching a train wreck happen in slow motion.”

“Oh, like yours is any better?” he shot back, rolling his eyes. “Why are my eyes so far apart?”

“They’re not!”

“They’re a mile away from each other,” he groaned, holding his face dramatically.

You gasped. “I think they look nice!”

“You made me look like E.T.!”

“They look nice, you’re just picky!” you snapped, pointing at the eyes you’d painted. “They’ve got that same sparkle your eyes have! See? Both pretty.”

He blinked. Then his cheeks turned pink. “So you do think my eyes are pretty.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“You just said that.”

“No, I said my painting was pretty.”

“Oh, so now we’re pretending?” he drawled, a slow smile curving on his lips. “We kissed two days ago, and you’re back to acting like calling me pretty is a scandalous revelation? Pretending we’re just best friends again?”

His arm brushed behind you, anchoring against the mat, his body leaning a little closer, warm and steady beside yours.

You swallowed hard. “Well… you are my best friend.”

“Am I?” His voice was softer now, like velvet.

You nodded, a breath catching in your throat. “Y-Yes.”

He hummed, tilting his head. “That’s a pity. I really liked kissing you.”

Then he leaned in. His eyes flicked to your lips and you froze. You waited, heart pounding, lips parted slightly, breath shallow. Eyes fluttering closed.

And then…

Nothing.

You opened your eyes to find him gone, leaned back with a smug grin and the audacity to be laughing.

“You fucking asshole,” you hissed, shoving him with a pout, arms crossed tight across your chest.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” Heeseung wheezed, still laughing as he reached for your wrist, trying to pull you back.

You turned away, refusing. “You just love embarrassing me.”

“Aww, come on, I was joking.” He bumped his shoulder gently into yours, trying to peek at your face. “You looked so cute.”

“You just want to humiliate me for your own selfish amusement.”

“Aw, baby, please—I was kidding—”

You both froze.

Baby.

Your head turned slowly. “What did you just call me?”

“Nothing.”

“You called me the b word.”

“I’d never call you a bitch,” he said quickly.

“No, not that b word.”

“Best friend?”

“Heeseung.”

“Okay, okay,” Heeseung said, hands raised in surrender, the corners of his lips still twitching with that smug, boyish grin of his. “Fine.”

The silence that followed felt heavier than it should have, stretched tight between you like a string neither of you wanted to pull too hard in case it snapped. The leaves rustled above, a soft hush from the wind, but you couldn’t hear any of it over the way your heart was pounding.

You cleared your throat, trying to sound casual but your voice still came out sharper than planned. “If you’re not gonna ask me to be your girlfriend, then fuck it.”

He blinked, startled. “Huh?”

You turned your body fully to face him now, cheeks hot, but your eyes steady. “Heeseung?”

He straightened a little, eyes narrowing in confusion, like he wasn’t sure if he was being messed with. “What?”

Your lips curled upward, small but sure. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Heeseung stared.

And for a moment, there was nothing. No cheeky remark or flirty deflection. Just silence.

You hadn’t expected silence. You were bracing yourself for a grin, for the way he’d pull you into a hug and say yes like it was the easiest thing in the world. But he didn’t.

“Hee?” you said softly, your voice faltering, a knot of dread starting to twist in your chest. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

“I… can’t,” he whispered, barely audible.

You blinked. “What?”

Heeseung’s gaze dropped to the rattan mat between you. His fingers curled into the fabric like he could steady himself with something solid, something real, but the words still caught in his throat. How was he supposed to say it? How could he tell you now after everything? After the daisies. After telling you he loved you. After you asked him that question.

“I’m leaving,” he said, suddenly. The words spilled out like they’d been choking him.

You laughed, but it was hollow, disbelieving. “Leaving?"

“My dad,” he murmured, eyes still downcast. “He got a job offer. In Canada. We’re moving. I’m going with him.”

You sat there for a second, like the wind had been knocked out of you. And then you swallowed hard.

-

You hated reliving that memory.

It haunted you in quiet moments, when the house was too still, when a familiar song played, when someone said his name by accident and the air shifted. That gnawing, hollow ache of losing your best friend. The ache of watching someone who once felt like home turn into a goodbye you never got to say properly.

You’d stopped talking to him not out of cruelty, but because every word felt like watching him slip further away. Because you were scared. Because it hurt. Because loving him and losing him at the same time felt unbearable. You were selfish, and you understood that now. But he was leaving. And what did a couple of teenagers really know about long distance? About staying in love through time zones and silence?

You told him that. You stood there crying and told him it wouldn't work. That it was better to end it before it hurt more. He shook his head. He believed that if you loved each other enough, you could survive anything.

But what could you have given him that would make him stay?

You were no one special. Just a girl. And deep down, you’d convinced yourself he deserved better, someone who could give him everything he was reaching for.

Your own insecurities… they were the cracks that broke everything apart. And by the time you realised that, by the time the fog of fear cleared and you understood what you’d done, he was already gone.

Instead of blaming yourself, you clung to bitterness. You told yourself he was the one who left without saying goodbye. You told yourself he should’ve told you the date, that he should’ve made it clearer. You told yourself that if you had known, you would’ve run to him. That you would’ve fought harder.

But he didn’t tell you.

 And you didn’t ask.

 And that was the end of it.

You sent message after message after he left. DMs, texts, half-drafted emails, all swallowed by silence. No reply. No closure. You watched his life unfold through your screen. New friends. New places. A girlfriend.

He looked happy.

And in some twisted, aching way, you knew you had done the right thing. You had let him go.  And maybe he was never yours to keep.

-

PRESENT

“Did you eat the last cronut in the pantry?” you asked, narrowing your eyes as you kicked Jake’s shin under the table.

He flinched and gave you an innocent look that was anything but. “Nope. I think that Ni-ki kid did.”

“Aw, man,” you groaned, sinking further into your chair.

The two of you were slouched in the company conference room, half-heartedly going over the slides for a pitch that your project manager, Park Sunghoon, had asked you to prepare. The room was quiet except for the tapping of your laptop keys and Jake’s occasional groan of disapproval whenever a client email annoyed him.

Then your elbow nudged into his side. “Hey, do you think Park Sunghoon’s hot?”

Jake barely glanced up. “He’s alright.”

“Alright?” You stared at him like he had personally offended you. “Dude, look at him. Jawline? Chiseled. Eyes? Big and brooding. And those muscles—my God, I can see them through his shirt.”

You pointed through the glass wall of the conference room where Park Sunghoon stood in conversation with another colleague, Jungwon, looking far too polished for a Thursday.

Then a throat cleared behind you.

You froze. Jake froze.

The two of you slowly turned around to find Heeseung standing at the doorway, an unreadable expression on his face and a very prominent vein pulsing in his jaw.

Your squeal was high-pitched and unmistakably guilty.

“Mr Lee! We were just working,” Jake said quickly, voice smooth but eyes flickering with panic.

You didn’t say a word. Still not speaking to Heeseung. Not after what he had essentially made you do.

Heeseung shifted awkwardly in the doorway, scratching the back of his neck like he wished he’d knocked first. “I—uh—I need one of you to be my assistant for tomorrow’s meeting in Busan.”

“Busan?” Jake blinked, his brows lifting. “I can’t. I’ve got that strategy consult with Sunoo.”

Then Heeseung turned to you. His voice gentled, just slightly. “You?”

You nodded, keeping your eyes fixed on your laptop screen, fingers still tapping random nonsense into the spreadsheet just to look busy.

“I’ll get a car to pick you up at eight,” he said, hesitating like he wanted to say something else. But he didn’t.

You nodded again. Still didn’t look at him. And then he was gone.

The door clicked shut behind him, but his presence still hung heavy in the air like the scent of cologne he always wore.

Jake let out a long, low whistle. “You guys are so dead.”

-

Heeseung had told you to pack light. Light, as if you weren’t being dragged into a two-day conference in Busan with the human equivalent of the devil. Unfortunately, there was no suitcase small enough to prepare you for the storm of spending that much uninterrupted time with Lee Heeseung.

It was 6 in the morning, and the sky was still the kind of grey that made everything look sleepy and slightly unreal. You stood outside your apartment building, rubbing your eyes, a hat over your messy hair.

Jake stood beside you like a 1960’s housewife sending off her husband. Dressed in a hoodie tossed over his pyjamas, yawning every three minutes, he looked one gust of wind away from collapsing back into bed.

“You can go back inside and sleep, Jake.”

“I know,” he said, rubbing his eyes, “but I need to see you get into the car safely or I’ll assume someone kidnapped you and I can’t pay rent alone.”

“You could just say you care about me.”

“And where’s the fun in that?” Jake grinned. “God, you’re shivering,” he muttered, before shrugging off his jacket and draping it over your shoulders without another word.

Just then, a sleek black car pulled up to the curb. Right as Jake tucked the jacket around you, the window rolled down, revealing Heeseung behind the wheel.

You blinked. “I thought you were sending over a car.”

“He couldn’t make it,” Heeseung said coolly. “So I’m driving us there.”

Your jaw dropped. “You want me to sit in a rolling asylum with you for five hours?”

“Just get in,” he said with an eye roll, already unlocking the doors.

You turned to Jake dramatically. “If I don’t make it back, it means Heeseung has killed me and buried my body in the woods.”

Jake snorted. “Don’t be dramatic,” he said, before softening. “But seriously, text me every hour just so I know you’re alive.” He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Bye! Be safe!” he called out, watching as you reluctantly opened the passenger door and slid in, still wrapped in his jacket.

And just like that, the trip began.

-

The first hour passed in heavy silence, broken only by the occasional shuffle of your legs adjusting uncomfortably or the low hum of the road beneath the tyres. You stared out the window, arms folded, trying to pretend you weren’t painfully aware of Heeseung sitting just inches away.

Then, out of nowhere, he cleared his throat. “So… are you and Jake together?”

You choked on your own saliva, coughing into your elbow as you glared at him. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

Heeseung nodded, unbothered, eyes fixed on the road.

Another three minutes of silence wrapped around the car. You sighed, leaning your head against the window.

“But if you must know,” you muttered, “no. We’re not.”

“Oh,” he replied, nonchalant. “Could’ve fooled me.”

You turned to him, brow raised. “Never had a female friend before?”

His lips quirked. “Had one. Just like you. In fact, I think it was you.”

That shut you up.

-

You trailed behind Heeseung, dragging both your suitcase and his, the wheels rattling against the tiled floor. Somewhere along the line, you'd just… assumed this was your role for the trip. His assistant. His shadow. His indentured servant, thanks to that ridiculous contract or what would’ve been a $20,000 debt hanging over your head if you refused.

You didn’t complain. Not out loud, at least. But inside, you were already cursing every single decision that led you here.

But before you could even reach the hotel lobby, Heeseung turned around and without a word, took both suitcases straight out of your hands.

“I can do—” you started, blinking.

“Shh,” he said, not even looking at you as he cut you off with a single syllable, raising one hand dismissively.

You stared at him, stunned, as he coolly rolled the two bags into the hotel. Like you hadn’t spent the last hour building him up in your head as the undefeated king of petty power plays.

And now he was carrying your luggage.

You hated that your heart skipped a little.

“I have a reservation Under Lee?” Heeseung said to the hotel receptionist, casually placing both suitcases beside the counter.

You stood just behind him, twiddling your thumbs and trying not to look like someone being dragged into a hostage situation.

“Oh!” the receptionist squeaked, her eyes lighting up. “Lee Taehyun, right? This must be your beautiful new bride! You two look so good together!” She beamed, completely unaware of your soul leaving your body. “And for newlyweds, we actually have a special promotion going on, rose petal turndown service, champagne on ice, and, of course, a complimentary aphrodisiac dessert to spark the honeymoon magic.” She winked.

You sputtered. “No. No, no. Absolutely not. We’re not Lee Taehyun or Lee whatever-he-is. We are Lee Heeseung. Could you please check that instead? Thank you.”

Heeseung scoffed beside you. “Calm down.”

“Calm down?” you hissed, turning toward him with wide eyes. “She was about to sell us off to the forest spirits and feed us magical truffles so we could get pregnant and return here every anniversary for the rest of our cursed lives.”

Heeseung sighed, rubbing his temples like he’d heard this exact flavour of overthinking from you a hundred times before. “Still as dramatic as ever.”

You huffed, crossing your arms and looking away. Okay. Maybe you had gone a little off the rails with the cursed honeymoon fantasy, but still. Aphrodisiacs? Really?

“…Whatever.”

“Oh, right!” the receptionist chirped, tapping away at her keyboard. “Here we have it—a suite reserved for Mr Lee and his girlfriend.”

Heeseung blinked. “Suite?”

She nodded, all smiles. “Yes, sir. One king bed, ocean view, complimentary couple’s spa vouchers. Booked by a Mr Park Jongseong.”

Heeseung’s eye twitched. “No, that can’t be right. I got Jongseong to reserve two single rooms.”

She frowned, double-checking the screen. “I’m afraid this is all we have under your name. Mr Park Jongseong booked you a suite.”

Heeseung let out a slow exhale, the kind that clearly said I’m going to murder someone when this is over.

Fucking no-good Park Jongseong, he thought, gripping the edge of the counter. Ruining my life once again.

“Well, can you change it to two single rooms?” Heeseung asked, voice strained but still clinging to the last threads of patience.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the receptionist said with an apologetic smile. “That suite is the only room available tonight.”

“No, but—”

“It’ll be fine. Thank you!” you cut in brightly, grabbing the room key from the counter before he could dig himself deeper. You turned and started walking toward the elevators without looking back.

Heeseung followed, flabbergasted. “How is this fine?”

“Oh, relax,” you said, pressing the elevator button. “We’re just sharing a room.”

“Ten minutes ago, you looked horrified at the idea of someone thinking we were a couple, and now you’re suddenly fine with us sharing a bed?”

You turned to him with a sweet smile. “Oh, we’re not sharing a bed. You’re sleeping on the couch.”

He scoffed. “No, I’m not.”

“Oh yes, you are. I’m a woman.”

“And you also owe me $20,000.”

You turned your head sharply toward him, narrowing your eyes.

Heeseung smirked. The elevator doors slid open. This was going to be a very long trip.

-

This was one of the rare times you’d seen Heeseung serious and you hated to admit it, but it was kind of… annoyingly attractive. The way he stood there, hands tucked into his pockets, voice steady and low as he discussed strategy and projections like he actually cared. His posture, his tone, the faint crease between his brows, it all screamed quiet authority.

“I heard you’re quite the hopeless romantic, Mr Kim,” Heeseung joked mid-discussion, flashing a polite smile.

Mr Kim, a big-shot client who’d made waves in the industry, chuckled. He was currently planning to invest in a luxury jewellery company as a surprise anniversary gift for his wife. Conveniently, Aureum had just acquired one of the most prestigious jewellery lines in the country. Heeseung saw it as a win-win.

“Well, I’m sure you’d understand, Mr Lee,” Mr Kim replied, eyes glinting knowingly.

Heeseung cleared his throat. “Of course.”

The truth? He was bluffing. Completely. 

Heeseung had heard stories from others who’d worked with Mr Kim, he valued authenticity, sentiment, sincerity. The only reason the man was even entertaining a partnership with Aureum was because Heeseung had, against every corporate bone in his body, lied and said they were alike. That he too was deeply in love, devoted to his long-term partner.

Meanwhile, you were perfectly content by the buffet table, happily snacking on hors d’oeuvres. Free food, no responsibilities? You were thriving.

“I’d love to meet her,” Mr Kim said suddenly, sipping his drink. “You said you brought her here today?”

Heeseung hesitated for only a beat before nodding. “Uh, I did.”

Mr Kim looked around. “Where is she?”

There was a long, tense pause. Heeseung glanced around the room, praying for a miracle. Then his eyes landed on you, halfway through chewing a mini tart, looking entirely unbothered and, in his opinion, far too cute for your own good.

“There,” he said, pointing. “She’s right over there.”

Mr Kim followed his gaze and smiled. “She’s beautiful. Seems just like what your type would be.”

Heeseung forced a smile, hand loosening slightly around his glass.

God, you were gonna kill him.

Then you wandered over, completely unaware of everything, happily licking tart crumbs off your thumb. “Have you tried the tarts?” you said cheerfully. “They’re so good.”

Heeseung turned to you. “There you are,” he said, voice dripping with sudden warmth. It was…weird. You looked at him, eyebrows raised, but he was already putting on his best smile. “I was just talking about you to Mr Kim.”

You blinked, gaze shifting to the man in front of you. Oh. Mr Kim. You knew who he was. Big client. Even bigger deal.

You quickly bowed. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Ah,” Mr Kim said, smiling warmly. “Heeseung tells me about you all the time.”

Your head snapped toward Heeseung. “He has?”

“He told me you were beautiful,” Mr Kim continued, chuckling. “And I see now he didn’t lie.”

Your eyes narrowed just a fraction, head tilting. “He did?”

“You seem surprised,” Mr Kim said, raising a brow, clearly confused by the disconnect.

Then you felt a light poke on your back. Heeseung leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper against your ear. “Play along and I’ll let go of the $20,000.”

You straightened immediately, laughing a little too quickly. “Oh! I’m just surprised he talks about me, that’s all.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Mr Kim said warmly. “You’re beautiful. The two of you look beautiful together.”

And then you froze.

Beautiful together?

You gulped, lips twitching into a forced smile. 

Back in the hotel room, you slammed the door behind you, nearly tripping over your own suitcase.

“You’re insane,” you snapped, spinning on your heel to face Heeseung.

“Look,” he said calmly, shrugging off his blazer and tossing it onto the couch, “just do this for two days, and I let go of the twenty grand. Seems like a win-win, doesn’t it?”

You stared at him, jaw dropped. “I can’t even stand being in the same room as you for two days, and you want me to pretend I’m your fiancée? You are actually, clinically insane.”

Heeseung gave you a lazy smile, then leaned against the table. “The deal’s already done. Once these two days are over, you’re free. Mr Kim’s contract is worth a million dollars to the company. So either you suck it up and act like you're in love with me… or you pay me one million—plus the existing twenty thousand you already owe.”

You stared at him. Then blinked. Then stared some more.

Your brain scrambled for a response, but all it managed was a silent scream and a thousand curse words you couldn’t legally say out loud.

You gulped, glaring at him through gritted teeth. “…Fine.”

-

It was the night of the conference. The hotel ballroom was already packed, sleek suits, designer gowns, the clinking of wine glasses, and enough perfume to drown in. Just the thought of having to smile and lie to at least a hundred people about being Heeseung’s loving, devoted fiancée made your stomach twist.

Earlier, Heeseung had sent you to a nearby salon, muttering something about how he refused to walk in with someone who “looked like they just rolled out of a laundry pile.” You’d wanted to punch him. But now, walking out of the room, you… almost didn’t recognise yourself.

Your hair was done in a half-up ponytail, the rest curled into soft, elegant ringlets. The makeup was natural but glowing, and the pink dress they sent up fit so well, hugging the right places, flowing gracefully just at your knees. Pink ballet heels, delicate dangling earrings brushing your collarbones. You looked like you belonged here.

But you didn’t feel like it.

Heeseung had already left for the conference earlier, texting only once to tell you where to meet him and, of course, to not embarrass him.

Charming.

You stepped into the corridor, a bit dazed, and decided to take the longer route through the golf course. There was a lake just beyond the path. The air was crisp, the sky painted with fading pinks and purples. You’d never stayed anywhere this fancy before. It felt like walking through someone else’s life.

Then you spotted it.

A lady in a chef’s hat, sprinting awkwardly across the green grass, arms outstretched, chasing something. A blur of white darted ahead of her.

A rabbit.

Your eyes widened. Were they going to cook it? Serve it at dinner for the hotel guests? You knew people ate rabbit. You weren’t someone to judge—“let people eat what they want” was practically your moral code—but the way the rabbit bounced in terror, its tiny legs scrambling to escape?

No. Nope. Couldn’t do it.

Without hesitation, you lifted the hem of your dress and ran. Full sprint. Across the grass, heels sinking slightly into the dirt, heart thudding as you caught up. With an ungraceful lunge, you scooped the bunny into your arms.

“Please don’t kill him!” you cried, standing defensively in front of the chef.

The chef skidded to a stop, looking at you like you were the crazy one. “What?”

“I know he’s probably delicious, but please! Don’t do it!” You clutched the rabbit tighter. “He’s scared! Look at him!”

The woman blinked… then chuckled. “Miss.”

“I’ll give you money,” you blurted. “I don’t have much but I’ll transfer to you some, just please, let him go!”

She laughed harder now, motioning to the other side of the lawn. “Miss… the rabbit’s a family pet. We’re just trying to get her back into the hotel suite. You see?”

You followed her finger and saw another staff member standing sheepishly beside an open rabbit cage.

“Oh.”

The chef blinked at you for a second, startled, before her features slowly softened into a smile, wide, warm, the kind only older women could pull off.

You were still clutching the rabbit like it was a child in danger.

“Oh, sweetheart,” the older woman said, chuckling as she approached you gently, palms raised like she didn’t want to startle you this time. “We’re not gonna cook the bunny.”

You blinked, still catching your breath. “So… you’re really not going to cook him?”

She laughed, her whole frame shaking. “No, darling. This naughty girl escaped from our suite when the door was left open. We’ve been trying to catch her for the last twenty minutes. But thank you for your… enthusiasm.”

You looked down at the rabbit, who blinked lazily in your arms.

The chef stepped closer and gently took the bunny from your arms. But before she stepped away, she paused, looking at you with a fond smile.

“You’re too cute,” she said softly, tucking a loose curl behind your ear. “Such a kind heart, and so pretty too.”

And then the chef walked off, humming to herself, rabbit nestled contently in her arms like none of the chaos had just happened.

You glanced down at your watch—and froze.

“Crap!” you hissed, eyes widening. You were 10 minutes late. You were supposed to meet Heeseung 10 minutes ago, and knowing him, he probably already assumed you'd either bailed or spontaneously combusted. You lifted the hem of your dress and took off running, again, heels clicking wildly against the marble floor as you made a mad dash through the hotel.

-

Heeseung stood at the entrance of the ballroom, posture stiff, hands tucked into the pockets of his tailored suit. His tie was perfect, his expression… not. He had done the early rounds, greeted the important names, planted the seeds for tonight’s main pitch, and now all he needed was his fake fiancée.

He looked down at his watch for the fourth time. Then toward the entrance. Then back at his watch. He groaned under his breath, jaw tightening.

Of course you were late. Of course you’d leave him hanging, tonight of all nights. He was already imagining himself pulling out his phone to text you a series of snarky messages when the ballroom doors opened. 

And then you stepped in.

Heeseung's breath caught mid-sentence, mid-thought, mid-everything. Time didn’t slow down; it stopped. He swore the music dimmed just to make space for the sound of his heartbeat. There you were, framed by the golden light of the chandeliers, hair curled into soft, glimmering ringlets that fell perfectly over your shoulders. Your heels clicked gently against the floor, matching your earrings that caught the light with every step, brushing your collarbones like a secret. You looked perfect. 

And Heeseung? Heeseung forgot what air was. Forgot that this was a business event. Forgot that this was pretend. All he could think was that no one else in the room existed but you.

You made your way toward him, a little breathless, cheeks warm, your eyes meeting his with that familiar glint of mischief and irritation and something softer underneath. He cleared his throat, awkwardly adjusting his collar like it was suddenly suffocating him.

“You’re… late,” he muttered, voice low, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably—because all he could think was how the hell do you look this pretty and expect me to act normal?

“I was trying to save a bunny,” you said, completely serious. Your brows were drawn together in the most sincere little frown, concern written all over your face like you were still thinking about the damn rabbit.

Heeseung blinked.

You had that look in your eyes, the one where they went all wide and sparkly and impossibly earnest. 

He was this close to melting. Just folding into your arms right then and there, because what the hell. Who gave you the right to be this pretty and this adorable? He wanted to squeal. He wanted to throw a chair. He wanted to tuck you under his coat and never let you do anything dangerous or heartbreaking or normal ever again.

But instead, he cleared his throat, forced his lips into a flat line, and muttered, “Yeah, well… you were still late.”

Pathetic. Even his pretend-annoyed voice sounded whipped.

-

Heeseung found himself standing beside Mr Kim near the open bar, both nursing glasses of champagne. The conversation had drifted from projections and sales to something lighter, more personal but Heeseung’s shoulders were still stiff, his eyes constantly flicking toward the far side of the ballroom to you.

You were talking to people. Merging into a circle of clients and industry professionals as if you belonged there. He watched as you laughed politely at something someone said, nodding attentively, gesturing animatedly when it was your turn to speak. He caught the way someone leaned in closer when you talked, how another man offered you a drink with a too-eager smile.

He clenched his jaw and looked away.

“She’s quite charming,” Mr Kim said, following Heeseung’s gaze with a subtle smirk. “Looks like she’s handling herself just fine.”

Heeseung chuckled stiffly. “Yeah, she tends to make a good impression.”

Mr Kim smiled knowingly, taking another sip of his drink. “My wife was talking about someone like her earlier. Said she saw a girl in a pink dress out on the golf course and thought she was watching a Disney princess chase after a rabbit.”

Heeseung nearly choked on his drink.

“Begged the chef not to cook it,” Mr Kim added, clearly amused. “Turns out it was our family pet. Apparently your fiancée offered money to save it.”

Heeseung groaned under his breath, rubbing a hand over his mouth to hide the grin trying to creep up. “That sounds… exactly like her.”

“She’s adorable,” Mr Kim said warmly, his tone turning unexpectedly sincere. “Rare to see someone so real in a room full of people wearing masks.”

He paused for a beat, then added, “To be honest, I wasn’t sold on the jewellery deal at first. Didn’t see the heart in it. But my wife couldn’t stop talking about that girl—your fiancée. Said any company that attracts someone like her must be doing something right.”

Heeseung’s fingers tightened slightly around his glass. His eyes found yours across the ballroom, animated and smiling as you spoke to a small group. For a second, something soft bloomed in his chest, something he hadn’t meant to feel.

He nodded once. "She's perfect."

-

The conference had gone better than expected, and the energy in the room had shifted to celebration,champagne flutes half-filled, smiles looser, jackets coming off shoulders.

“If I may,” Mr Kim said, standing tall at the front of the ballroom, his voice warm but commanding enough to draw the attention of everyone in the room, “I’d like to invite someone very special to say a few words.”

The chatter died down instantly.

“Him and his fiancée are the reason I’ve decided to move forward with our partnership with Aureum,” Mr Kim continued, smiling. “It wasn’t just the impressive numbers, or the sleek portfolio, or even the pitch, which, I’ll admit, was still excellent. It was the authenticity. The human touch. In a world full of polished presentations and rehearsed lines, it’s rare to meet someone who speaks like they still believe in what they do and that’s why I’m here.”

Then Mr Kim’s eyes flicked toward him, his smile widening just a little. “Mr Lee. Would you join us for a quick toast? Perhaps say something about your lovely fiancée as well?”

Heeseung froze.

You almost choked on the crabcakes you were devouring.

Heeseung’s hand froze mid-air, fingers curled slightly around the stem of his glass. His eyes widened just a fraction, enough for you to see the panic ripple beneath the surface of his carefully maintained expression.

He stood slowly, giving you one last glance like he was walking straight into a firing squad, and made his way to the front of the room.

Mr Kim clapped him on the back. “I’ve always admired honesty, Mr Lee. Let’s hear what love sounds like from someone living it.”

Heeseung stepped up to the mic.

The room quieted. The seconds stretched. You watched his throat bob, watched the slight tremble in his fingers where they gripped the edge of the podium. He was freezing.

And Mr Kim noticed.

The man tilted his head, expression beginning to shift, curiosity folding into doubt.

You stood.

Heeseung’s eyes found yours immediately. And you didn’t think. You just walked.

You made your way up to the stage, your heels clicking softly against the ballroom floor, your heart pounding. You reached him, gently touched his arm, and turned to the mic. Heeseung stepped aside without a word, his jaw still tight.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice light but clear. “My fiancé’s not really used to a big crowd.  He’s the kind of guy who can negotiate million-dollar deals without blinking, but ask him to express a single human emotion in public and he acts like he’s being held hostage.”

A soft laugh rippled through the room.

You turned slightly, your gaze catching Heeseung’s from the corner of your eye. 

“Well...uh...Heeseung and I… we’ve been friends for as long as I can remember,” you began, “Then at the age of 18 left me for Canada. Canada. Can you imagine? Leaving this—” you gestured to yourself with mock offense, “—for Canada?”

The crowd laughed, a ripple of amusement breaking through the room.

You smiled, softer this time, your voice dipping gently. “We drifted after that—stopped talking, stopped being us. And then… he came back. Somehow, we reconnected, and, as fate would have it, he was actually even more insufferably annoying than I remembered.”

Another laugh bubbled from the audience, gentler this time.

“He knew exactly how to push my buttons. He was cocky, arrogant… God, I hated him. Made me do the dumbest things. Made me run the craziest errands. Like, have you ever seen someone counting exactly 50 blueberries in the middle of a supermarket? If you have, that was probably me.”

The room stilled, the laughter fading like it had never been there. The shift was subtle—just the way attention turned sharper, the way even the background music felt like it had lowered itself into a hush.

“But somehow…” you continued, your voice softer now, almost hesitant. You turned your head fully, locking eyes with Heeseung, and the noise of the room blurred around the edges.

“After all those years, after all the silence… I realised something.”

You drew in a breath, one that trembled slightly on the way out. “I blamed him for so much time lost. I blamed him for leaving, for not telling me when, for not trying harder. But I forgot…”

You paused. The truth sat heavy on your tongue, but it needed to be said.

“I forgot to blame myself,” you whispered. “And I never apologized.”

Your fingers tightened slightly around the mic. The words felt raw, too honest, and somehow… exactly why you had hated him back then. Because loving him hurt, and you didn’t know how to carry that without turning it into anger.

Heeseung’s expression shattered—composure gone, his eyes soft and stunned, like you’d touched a place inside him he thought you’d never reach again. There was something breaking open in his gaze. Something unspoken but unmistakable.

“Till now,” you finished, voice barely above a whisper.

And then, with the ache growing full in your chest, your eyes still locked on his, you breathed into the mic.

“I’m sorry.”

The word hung in the air louder than you intended. You wiped the single tear that rolled down your cheek, hoping no one noticed. But then it hit you, you were still on stage. Still holding the mic. Still standing under a literal spotlight in front of dozens of clients and colleagues.

You cleared your throat and plastered on a small, tight smile. “And of course,” you said lightly, forcing the laugh into your voice, “none of this would have happened if we weren’t madly in love and getting married in exactly” ,you glanced at your imaginary watch, “three months and four days. But who’s counting? Apparently, bridezilla herself!”

The crowd laughed. A few people even let out soft awws, and someone near the front clapped.

You gave a stiff little bow, muttered a quick “thank you,” and then got off the stage.

And ran.

You had somehow found your way back to the golf course. You walked faster, heart pounding, heels sinking slightly into the grass. You didn’t want him to find you. Not like this. Not when your walls were crumbling and your heart was screaming things you weren’t ready to say out loud.

But then, a hand gripped your wrist, gentle and firm, stopping you in your tracks. You spun around, startled, only to find Heeseung behind you. 

“What you said back there,” he said, voice low, shaking slightly, “did you mean it?”

“What?” you blinked. “I was just lying to get him off our backs. You know. I was doing my job as your fake fiancée, remember?” You tried to laugh it off, but it came out hollow.

Heeseung didn’t even flinch. “It didn’t seem like a lie.”

You scoffed, looking away. “I was just tryna get the $20,000 off my back, Heeseung.”

“You still love me,” he said, cutting you off. His voice was raw now.

You froze. “No, I don’t—”

“Stop lying to yourself!” Heeseung shouted, the words cutting through the quiet night, raw and ragged, like something inside him had finally broken loose. “Stop lying to me! I can’t take this anymore!”

His voice echoed across the empty golf course, full of something desperate and real, something that made your chest tighten and your breath catch.

“That girl…” he said, voice cracking, “that girl I was in love with… who I still am in love with—she’s in there somewhere. I refuse to believe she didn’t show up at the airport.”

“Heeseung,” you breathed, eyes wide, frozen in place.

“Why?” His voice wavered. “Why didn’t you come? Why didn’t you show up? Why did you just… shut me out after I told you I was leaving—”

“Because!” you snapped, your voice breaking as you finally let it spill. “Because I’m selfish!”

Heeseung paused, taken aback. His brows pulled together.

“I didn’t want to get hurt,” you whispered.

“That’s not the truth,” he said quietly.

“It is,” you insisted, but your voice wavered.

Heeseung shook his head, stepping closer, eyes locked on yours. “You’re lying.”

You ran a trembling hand through your hair, your voice cracking as you looked away. “Fine! You want the truth? You really want to hear it?”

Your chest rose with a sharp breath, the words clawing their way up. “It’s because I thought… I thought if you stayed, I’d ruin you.”

You turned, eyes burning as they met his. “You were 18, Heeseung. 18. You were so smart. You had this whole brilliant, blinding life ahead of you. A future so much bigger than anything I could give you. And me?” Your voice broke. “I was scared I’d be the reason you didn’t shine. That you’d look back one day and realise you settled.”

You swallowed hard, “So I let you go. Because it felt easier to lose you than to stay and watch you wake up one day and realise you made a mistake by choosing me.”

Heeseung’s breath caught, his entire body tensing. “Why?” he asked, voice cracking, his voice growing louder each with each second passing by. “Why would you think I’d ever regret choosing you?”

You turned your face away, “Because I was scared, okay? I was 18. I was still trying to figure out who I was, let alone what I meant to you. And then suddenly I had to make a decision that felt like it would shape the rest of your life.”

You faced him again, voice rising with the ache in your chest. “You were leaving for this big, shiny life. New country, new people, new everything. And I—” You choked. “I didn’t want to be the reason you stayed and resented it.”

He stared at you like he didn’t even know how to speak. “What was good for me?” he echoed quietly, like the words were something sacred. Then louder, sharper—“You! You were! I fucking loved you so much, how could you not see that?”

“Then why didn’t you tell me when you were leaving!” you cried, your voice breaking under the weight of years unsaid. “I would’ve come. I would’ve come, Heeseung. If I’d known—if you had just told me when—”

“Yes I did!” Heeseung’s voice cracked again. “I wrote it. In the letter.”

You froze. “What letter?”

“The letter I gave your mom,” he said, breathless. “The one I—God, I gave your mom a letter. I told her to give it to you.”

You stared at him, stunned.

“What fucking letter?” you whispered.

“I gave your mom a letter,” he said again, quieter this time. “It had everything. The date. The time. Everything. I thought you didn’t come because you chose not to.”

“My mom… never gave me a letter,” you said softly, the words tumbling out like a secret you hadn’t known you were holding.

Heeseung’s eyes widened. “What?”

“If I did know, I would’ve shown up,” you continued, your voice cracking at the edges. “I would’ve told you not to go. I would’ve begged you to stay.” Your throat burned.

“I didn’t mean to leave,” Heeseung said quickly, shaking his head, his voice full of urgency. “God, I didn’t just leave. I waited. I waited until the last possible second. I looked for you until they started calling my name for final boarding.”

Your eyes brimmed with tears, heart pounding. “Now I know you didn’t.”

Heeseung took a shaky step forward. “And now I know you didn’t ignore me. You didn’t walk away.”

You nodded slowly, unable to speak as the tears slipped down your cheeks. Before you could hide, before you could even wipe them away, Heeseung stepped forward and gently tugged you into him, his arms wrapping around you like they were made to.

He pressed your head to his chest, where his heart was beating fast and loud, just like yours. One hand cradled the back of your head while the other brushed against your cheek, wiping your tears.

Then, he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I never stopped loving you,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I’m sorry for the shit I put you through.”

And this time, you didn’t hold back.

“I should've asked. I'm sorry.” you whispered back.

You tilted your face up to him, eyes still wet but softer now, like the storm inside you had finally started to settle. Heeseung looked down, gaze flicking between your tear-streaked cheeks and the curve of your lips, his thumb still gently resting beneath your chin.

And then you leaned in.

The both of you were hesitant at first. But the second your lips met, everything else slipped away. His hands in your hair, your fingers gripping his tie.

The kiss deepened. His fingers curled around your waist. Then, without warning, he tapped your thigh twice.

You understood immediately, jumping up as he caught you with ease. Your legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, and he held you there, effortlessly.

Your lips never parted, not even as he turned and started walking, steady and sure. The golf course faded behind you, quiet except for the occasional rustle of wind.

He pulled back just enough to grin against your cheek. “As much as I like the idea of christening the 9th hole… I think we should take this somewhere less… open.”

-

The door clicked open behind you, but you barely registered it.

In one breath, Heeseung had you in his arms again, his hands firm at your waist, his lips crashing onto yours. There was nothing hesitant about it. Just years of built-up longing released in one desperate, searing kiss.

He guided you backwards gently, lips never parting from yours, until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed. You stumbled slightly, gasping into his mouth, and he caught you with a quiet laugh, pressing you down with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

“Jongseong’s gonna have a field day with this one,” he whispered, grinning against your skin.

You let out a soft laugh. “Well, Jake too.”

He pulled back just enough to raise an eyebrow at you. “Did you really have to mention Jake when I’m trying to put some moves on you?”

“You mentioned Jongseong first.”

“Yeah, but… Jake’s gross.”

“You’re just jealous.”

He scoffed. “What if I am?”

“Then you’re stupid, because Jake’s like a brother to me.”

“I wanna fire him.”

You snorted. “You can’t fire him without an actual reason, dumbass.”

Heeseung groaned, flopping onto the bed like the world had betrayed him personally. 

“This is so unfair. I fall for a girl and her emotional support dog comes in the same package.”

You rolled your eyes, hovering just above him with a smirk tugging at your lips. “Now are we making out, or are we gonna keep talking about our friends?”

“I definitely prefer the first option,” he muttered.

And then his hand slid to the back of your neck, and he pulled you down into him again, his lips meeting yours, firmer this time, no hesitation. Just heat and honesty and a kiss that felt like it had been years in the making.

-

Morning light spilled in through the hotel curtains, soft and golden, casting gentle shadows across the sheets tangled around your legs. You blinked slowly, the haze of sleep clinging to your lashes, the warmth beside you anchoring you to a reality that felt too perfect to be true.

Heeseung was still asleep, bare-chested, one arm slung lazily over your waist, hair a complete mess, lips parted slightly like he’d fallen asleep mid-sentence. His face, usually so composed and sharp, looked peaceful like this. 

You smiled, fingers brushing lightly over the curve of his shoulder.

Then you sat up. And screamed.

“Heeseung!” 

 He jolted awake like someone had lit a fire under him. “What? What—what’s wrong?”

“We’re late! The breakfast meeting!”

For a second, you both just stared at each other, completely frozen in chaos. The clock read 8:43. The meeting started at 9.

“Shit.”

You scrambled to untangle yourselves from the sheets, clothes flying across the room as you grabbed the first items in reach, your skirt halfway zipped, his shirt buttoned all wrong.

Heeseung stumbled while trying to put on his socks, nearly falling face-first into the carpet. “Why didn’t we set an alarm?!”

“Because someone was too busy whispering sweet shit in my ear and kissing my shoulder for an hour.”

“Well excuse me for being emotionally available for once!”

You both raced around the room like it was on fire, bumping into each other, yanking open suitcases, swearing under your breaths, and then suddenly, just as you were jamming a shoe onto your foot, Heeseung grabbed your wrist and spun you toward him.

“Wait,” he said, breathless. “Just one. Please.”

You blinked. “Hee, we don’t have time.”

“Just one,” he whispered, already leaning in. “One kiss.”

You sighed. Let your hands wrap around his collar as he kissed you, messy, rushed, and full of everything you’d both been too stubborn to say for years.

When you finally pulled away, both of you slightly dazed, Heeseung grinned. “Totally worth it.”

You smacked his arm. “Let’s go, idiot.”

And hand in hand, grinning like fools, you bolted for the elevator.

-

It’d been a few days since everything had changed. Since the night on the golf course. Since the hotel room. And since well, you and Heeseung had…done stuff. Multiple times.

You weren’t official but you were… together. Always orbiting each other like you were tethered by something invisible. No one knew. Not Jake. Not your team. And definitely not HR, which, unfortunately, was Park Jongseong himself, a man with a love for company policies and a suspicious sixth sense for office romance.

And so, here you were. In the office pantry with Jake, who was minding his coffee.

Jake nudged your elbow as he poured milk into his mug. “So, how was the trip with the devil himself?”

You sipped your coffee. “It was fine.”

“Fine? Really?” Jake squinted at you. “Damn, I thought you were coming back with at least three things I could use to file an anonymous complaint.”

You shrugged, avoiding eye contact. “Y’know… actually, he’s not that bad.”

Jake slowly turned to face you. “Not that bad? He made you pretend to be a floor tile.”

You winced. “Okay, yeah, but—look, we were both kind of crazy. I spat in his coffee once, so like… we’re even.”

Jake nearly dropped his mug. “Even?” He stared at you like you’d just told him you’d taken up sword-swallowing as a hobby. “Who are you right now—wait.” His eyes narrowed. “Wait, wait—oh no.”

You froze.

Jake’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god. The two of you hooked up, didn’t you?”

You opened your mouth then closed it. 

Jake looked personally betrayed, “I knew it. I knew you were all weird this week! Who the hell goes to the janitor closet for breaks?”

You froze mid-sip, eyes darting away.

Jake’s jaw dropped. “Heeseung was in there, wasn’t he?”

You blinked.

“Oh my god—you two did it in the janitor cl—EW!” Jake staggered back like the mental image physically harmed him. “I eat lunch near that hallway!”

You held up a hand. “First of all, we did not—”

“You hesitated! That was a hesitation!”

“Jake, if you don’t shut up, I swear I’m going to tell Jongseong you said his HR memo font choice was ugly.”

Jake rolled his eyes, lowering his voice only slightly. “Fine but just so you know, this doesn’t mean I like him. He’s still an asshole.”

You shrugged, sipping your coffee like this wasn’t the most ridiculous conversation you’ve had in weeks. “Good. Because he hates you too.”

Jake blinked. “What the fuck did I do?”

You shrugged, “Exist.”

-

Heeseung sat at his desk, fingers flying across the keyboard as he finalised the proposal for Mr Kim. It was clean, sharp, every slide perfectly aligned to close the deal he’d been working for almost half a year. A deal that, according to the company group chat, had already been deemed one of the most high-profit wins in Aureum’s history.

He should’ve been riding the high of corporate glory.

But none of it really mattered. Not compared to the fact that he’d come back with you.

He tried to stay focused but every few minutes his eyes drifted upward, toward your little cubicle across the hall. You were hunched slightly over your desk, tongue peeking out the corner of your mouth in concentration.

He rested his cheek on his palm, watching you like an idiot. You were so pretty.

And then you looked up.

Your eyes met his, and instead of pretending he hadn’t just been caught openly simping, Heeseung grinned because ever since the two of you were unofficially official, he didn’t even bother to hide it anymore.

You tilted your head, smirking. Then sent him a flying kiss.

Heeseung squealed. Audibly. And sent one right back with two hands like a dramatic fool.

And that was when the office door swung open.

“What the fuck are you doing?” came Park Jongseong’s voice, disgusted and traumatised all at once.

Right. Glass walls. Stupid, transparent, company-branded glass walls.

Heeseung sat up straight, clearing his throat. “I was… practicing.”

Jongseong blinked. “Practicing what, exactly?”

“…Nevermind."

Jongseong sighed and muttered "You're so weird,” before walking out.

Then the door opened again.

“Wait...I smell something,” Jongseong declared.

Heeseung didn’t even look up. “What?”

“A HR violation,” Jongseong said with a sniff, eyes narrowing.

As much as Heeseung loved Jongseong, god, the man could be such a self-righteous pain when it came to company policies.

“I don’t smell anything,” Heeseung said, typing without looking.

“No, no. I smell it. There’s a strong odor of office romance in the air and it reeks in here.”

“You must be sniffing yourself.”

“Oh please. This company only hires uglies.”

“You’re not the catch you think you are, Jongseong.”

“Yes I am,” he said with absolute confidence, “and I will find out who is reeking of romance. It’s horrendous.” Then, dramatically, he turned to Heeseung. “Is it you?”

Heeseung gulped, eyes twitching. “Couldn’t be me.”

Jongseong stared harder. “You’re right. You reek too much of a man who hasn’t gotten laid in three years because he’s been secretly in love with his subordinate.”

Heeseung blinked. Deeply offended, but smart enough not to give in. “Yeah sure. Whatever you say.”

Then, without warning, Jongseong spun and pointed directly at Jake, who had just walked in with his smoothie.

“It’s him!” Jongseong gasped. “He has the cheekbones for it. Look at him—he looks gorgeous. No way this man isn’t pulling chicks.”

“Cheekbones?” Heeseung scoffed. “They’re more like rotten apples. Don’t you think?”

“No. This man looks like he was carved by God himself.”

“Or the devil, actually.”

“No. Look at him,” Jongseong insisted, grabbing Heeseung’s shoulders and spinning him toward Jake. “He looks like a piece of Renaissance art with a gym membership.”

“He looks like three-day-old underwear.”

“You’re just jealous… because… oh my god.” Jongseong’s eyes widened, turning to face Heeseung fully. “He’s dating her, isn’t he?”

“What?” Heeseung looked at Jongseong like he’d just suggested he was secretly a lizard.

“That’s why you’re extra moody today,” Jongseong gasped. “Because Jake and her are together. And that leaves you all alone.”

Heeseung’s stomach flipped violently. He hated the image of you and Jake together. He hated the way Jongseong even said it like it made sense.

“They’re not together,” he snapped.

“Well, if they are, we could always just fire Jake,” Jongseong offered casually, sipping his coffee.

“We are not—” Heeseung paused. “Hold on. That’s a good idea.”

“Well, then she’d have to go too. Because, y’know, also dating Jake.”

“Oh. Right.” Heeseung grimaced. 

Jongseong raised a brow. “Not like you care though? You fucking hate her.”

“Actually, people change,” Heeseung muttered. “She apologized. She’s… not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” Jongseong repeated slowly, squinting.

He looked at you through the glass. Then at Heeseung. Then at you again. Then back at Heeseung.

His mouth dropped open.

“It’s you,” Jongseong gasped, pointing between the two of you like he’d just cracked a government conspiracy. “It's you two!”

Before another word could escape his mouth, Heeseung shot up from his chair and launched himself at him.

Jongseong barely had time to react before Heeseung had tackled him into a makeshift headlock, one hand slapped over his mouth as the two of them stumbled into the corner of the office.

“Let go of me!” Jongseong struggled, flailing under Heeseung’s grip. “I have rights!”

“Not until you promise you won’t say a word!” Heeseung hissed, tugging on Jongseong’s shoulders and trying to wrestle him into silence while Jongseong kicked wildly at the air.

Outside the office, you and Jake stood with your coffees, watching everything unfold behind the glass.

Jake blinked. “What the hell do you think is happening in there?”

You shrugged, casually sipping from your mug. “No clue. Glass walls don’t help if they built the place like a soundproof aquarium.”

Back inside, Jongseong finally managed to pull Heeseung’s hand from his mouth long enough to shout, “I am a man of the people! I have to report this monstrosity!”

“Calm the fuck down,” Heeseung gritted through his teeth, still trying to keep him pinned. “You’re a HR manager, not Captain America.”

Jongseong wheezed, flailing. “The people must know!”

“The people can suck it!” Heeseung growled, still halfway wrestling Jongseong into the carpet.

“Jongseong, I swear to God, if you’re the next obstacle to us getting back together, I’m never forgiving you.”

“I—I��” Jongseong wheezed, still pinned beneath Heeseung’s arm. “When the hell did you get—so—strong?”

Heeseung didn’t even flinch. “Pilates, bitch.”

Outside, you took another slow sip of your coffee, eyebrows raised. “Five bucks says Heeseung bribes him with cake to shut up.”

Jake nodded. “Ten if it’s that strawberry shortcake from the café downstairs.”

“Deal.”

Jongseong finally shoved him off, crawling backward until he could breathe. “Okay, fine!” he huffed, adjusting his rumpled blazer. “You seem pretty serious about her.”

Heeseung straightened, flicked his collar, and gave the smuggest little smirk. “I am.”

There was a pause.

Then, softer this time, “So please?” Heeseung added, meeting Jongseong’s eyes. “Could you just… keep it down?”

Jongseong looked at him. Then at you through the glass. Then back at Heeseung.

He sighed deeply, like he was about to betray his entire code of ethics. “Fine.”

Heeseung grinned. “Thank you.”

“But the second you start getting gross in meetings, I’m reporting both of you to HR which is me.”

“Deal,” Heeseung said, already pulling out his wallet. “Strawberry shortcake?”

Jongseong paused. “Extra whipped cream.”

Heeseung nodded. “Done.”

-

You knew it was a risk.

The moment Heeseung had grabbed your wrist in the hallway and tugged you into the janitor’s closet with that familiar look in his eyes, the one that always made your knees weak and better judgment nonexistent, you knew.

And yet here you were.

Pressed against the wall between a mop and a bucket, lips tangled with yours. His hands roamed your waist with urgency, and your fingers were tugging at his tie.

“This is your fault,” you whispered against his mouth.

“You kissed me first,” he murmured back, breathless, grinning.

“Because you looked hot during the finance meeting!”

“You said profit margin like it was a dirty word!”

You were about to argue when—

The door opened.

“Oh my GOD,” Jake’s voice rang out, horrified.

“What the hell—” Jongseong's words trailed off as he stepped in behind Jake, immediately shielding his eyes with a clipboard. “I knew it. I knew it! I’m reporting the two of you to HR.”

You scrambled to fix your blouse, cheeks burning. “Jake, shut the door!”

“You’ve scarred me. I need therapy.”

“Technically,” Heeseung said, calm as ever, “we’re on our ten-minute break.”

“That’s it,” Jongseong snapped. “This is the third time this week I’ve caught you two doing something borderline illegal in the fucking mop closet. I’m reporting you. I’ve been way too tolerant.”

“How about a hundred bucks and we pretend this never happened?” Heeseung offered smoothly.

Jongseong paused. Then grinned. “Damn. Didn’t know I could go blind for ten minutes, but apparently, I can. Nice doing business with you.”

Jake blinked. “Wait, how about me? I can still report this to HR too!”

“You’re lucky I don’t fire your ugly ass on the spot.”

Jake scoffed. “I told you two months ago—I don’t want your ratty-ass girlfriend. You can stop being weird about it.”

“Ratty?” you gasped, hand to your chest like you’d just been stabbed.

Jake rolled his eyes. “You know I’m exaggerating. You’re the prettiest princess in the entire damn kingdom.”

You giggled. “Hee, apologise to him.”

“Absolutely not. He just called you pretty right in front of me.”

“Am I not pretty?” you asked, feigning offence.

Heeseung groaned. “You’re very beautiful. Which is exactly why we’re in this situation in the first place!”

“Well, then, could you please apologise to Jake?”

Heeseung sighed, dramatically pained. “Fine. I’m sorry, and I don’t hate you.”

Jake blinked. “…Thanks?”

“Now,” Heeseung said, already tugging the door shut again, “can we have five more minutes?”

“NO!” they both shouted in unison.

The door slammed shut anyway.

Jake stared at it, traumatised. “I’m never opening a janitor’s closet again.”

Jongseong nodded solemnly. “I’ve seen things. I need bleach.”

“Join the club.”

[wonnienyang]

˖*°࿐ •*⁀➷ 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆❜𝒔 𝒏𝒐 𝒊 𝒊𝒏 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑

➜ summary: you don't really like jungwon. too bad, he likes you.

pairing: yjw x f!reader, wc: 13k words , genre: highschool, fluff, w: rude jokes, cussing

Yang Jungwon. Some claimed he was the greatest being to grace the earth since Albert Einstein. Others (okay, just you) thought he was stuck-up, snobby, and a walking narcissist.

Unfortunately, you fell squarely into the latter category. Fortunately, you were also the president, vice-president, and sole member of his anti-fan club. Uncontested views? Check. Lifelong grudge? Check. Emotional maturity? Debatable.

You couldn’t even remember exactly when your vendetta against him began. Maybe it was that time in fourth grade when he beat you in the spelling bee because you messed up the word “friendship.” Who knew there was an ‘i’ in friendship?  (Jungwon did. Of course he did.)

Or maybe—and this one still haunts your dreams—it was that fateful night at your first senior party. The lights were dim, the music was loud, and Jungwon spun the bottle. It landed on you. Everyone screamed. He looked you dead in the eye, let out a low chuckle, and said:

“I can’t take her first kiss like this.”

Cue the chorus of laughter that still echoes in your ears during your quiet poops.

So no. You didn’t like Jungwon. At all. Obviously.

You glanced up at the boys near the front of the classroom. They were crowded around the class skeleton, draping a hoodie over its shoulders and pretending it was a hot girl. You blinked once, then sighed long and hard. This was your peer group. Children. Absolute children. To your left, a group of girls giggled behind manicured hands, their eyes glued to their phones. You didn’t have to look twice to know they were texting their college boyfriends, acting like seventeen wasn’t a whole year away from knowing how taxes worked. 

Maybe you did, in fact, relate to that one viral Jaden Smith video. The one where he claimed his peers were all stupid and that he preferred to talk about the political and economic state of the world. Maybe you too wanted to host a philosophical podcast at lunch instead of watching Park Jongseong from the neighbouring class pretend the skeleton had an OnlyFans.

But the truth was: you were still in high school. Still surrounded by greasy cafeteria fries, half-hearted gossip, and teenage delusion. You had your own brand of immaturity—though you’d never admit it. You were far too busy judging everyone else to notice your own. Just like any other high schooler.

You turned back to Heeseung, who was slumped dramatically on his desk, face buried in his arms like the world had ended overnight.

“Hee,” you whispered—not exactly a whisper, more like a stage-whisper with yelling ambitions.

He groaned without lifting his head. “Didn’t get any sleep last night. Don’t bother me.”

“You son of a—this is important!”

“Now what,” he mumbled, “could possibly be more important than my beauty sleep?”

“It’s really not my fault you stayed up all night playing that wretched game of—”

“I was this close to Diamond again!” Heeseung sat up with a jolt, eyes wide and bloodshot with the weight of regret. He turned to you, serious as a man whose world had crumbled. “That stupid, no-good Park Sunghoon lost it for all of us.”

You scoffed. “Sure. Blame Sunghoon.”

Your eye roll was practically a full-body movement. Heeseung looked like he was about to launch into a passionate monologue about teamwork and betrayal, but just as he opened his mouth—

The classroom door creaked open.

And in walked the bane of your existence.

Well, not walked exactly. He sauntered in, with the kind of swagger reserved for people who peaked at seventeen. His hand went up lazily in greeting, a wave aimed toward the back of the class.

“Ni-ki!” he called out, voice way too loud for eight in the morning, like he was the only person who existed in this entire room.

You rolled your eyes so hard you could see your own brain. Could he not tell that other people were trying to have a breakdown in peace? Rude.

“Did you wake me up just to stare at Yang Jungwon?” Heeseung muttered..

“No. I actually wanted to ask if you were coming over after school. My mom misses you.”

Heeseung grinned as he stretched, cracking his neck like he was preparing for battle. “I guess even she prefers me over you.”

“I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

“And your mom will kill you for even thinking about laying hands on her precious son-in-law.”

“We’re not getting married, Lee.”

“I hope not. I’m trying to have good-looking children.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Aw, come on. You love me.”

You rolled your eyes again, but this time, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips before you could stop it.

Heeseung shifted, burying his face back into his arms like he was preparing for hibernation, then turned his head just slightly to glance at you.

“Y’know I was kidding, right?” he murmured.

“Huh?”

“You’re pretty,” he said, simple as breathing. “Before you start overthinking in there—” he lazily pointed to your forehead, “—I figured I’d clarify.”

You rolled your eyes, heat threatening to creep up your neck. “Yes, Heeseung. I know you’re joking.”

“Good,” he mumbled, eyes already closing again. “Because if anyone tells you otherwise, they’re stupid.”

And with a dramatic sigh and a yawn, he slipped right back into sleep.

You liked Heeseung. Like… liked liked him.

Maybe it was because he was the only guy friend you had who didn’t make you want to choke yourself with a charging cable. Or maybe it was the way he always knew how far to go with his jokes—never pushing too hard, never making you feel like the punchline. He just got you. Like he had some internal manual titled How to Handle You Without Ruining Everything. He was just… right.

You thought he was handsome. Kind. Genuinely funny. And yet, he never really seemed interested in dating anyone. Which was objectively bizarre, considering how many girls trailed after him.

But he’d just smile, ruffle their hair like an older brother, and say, “I’m sorry, I’m not really looking for anything right now. But thank you for being honest.” Then he’d say something so sweet—so emotionally intelligent—it almost cancelled out the heartbreak.

But it wasn’t like you were in love with the guy. That would be insane. It was just a silly little crush. Something that should’ve faded after a few weeks. Only… it had been six months.

You shrugged to yourself. It’s not like you’d ever act on it. Heeseung was eyeing some fancy art school in Seoul, while you were hoping for SNU, fingers crossed for a spot in English Language and Literature. You were both headed in opposite directions, and you’d made peace with that.

-

Jungwon wasn’t exactly sure when it started. All he knew was that you had been staring at him for the past few minutes. And not the accidental kind, either. The kind that lingered. 

At first, he thought maybe there was something on his face. Food, maybe. Ink? But no—he had checked. Twice. Then he thought you might be staring past him. But there was literally nothing behind him except a dead plant and Ni-ki trying to balance a pen on his nose.

So what was it?

He wasn’t trying to be narcissistic. God, no. Contrary to popular belief, he hated that reputation. He was just curious. Mildly intrigued. Intellectually invested, even. Then you stood up and walked out of the room, presumably to the toilet. And before he could stop himself, Jungwon was at your desk. Sitting in your seat.

He faced the direction you’d been looking, squinting slightly. His eyes landed on his own desk. Then his own chair. Then himself, reflected in the window across from where you sat.

Oh.

Interesting.

His gaze drifted downward. He didn’t mean to snoop. He really didn’t. But there, scribbled hastily at the top of your notebook, was a line repeated over and over in varying levels of despairing handwriting:

“You’ll only get hurt. Don’t fall for him. You’ll only get hurt. Don’t fall for him.”

His eyebrows slowly crept up his forehead.

Okay. Wow. That was a lot. Intense, even. Dramatic. A little poetic, if he was being honest.

And then—just to make things worse—his eyes fell on the side pocket of your pencil case. A doodle of a heart. Literally. A heart. With... a J scribbled next to it. Could've been anyone. But this was high school. It was always obvious.

He sat back, blinking in disbelief.

You liked him.

You liked him.

Holy shit.

He stood abruptly, knocking your chair back an inch. He didn’t mean to see all of that. God, he really didn’t. He ran a hand through his hair and muttered a quiet curse under his breath.

And just as he turned to walk away, he heard footsteps behind him. You. Coming back.

Panicked, he grabbed the first thing he saw—your eraser—and pretended to inspect it like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. You walked in just in time to see Jungwon squinting down at your strawberry-scented eraser like it held the secrets to the universe.

“What the hell are you doing?” you asked, blinking.

He looked up, face neutral, maybe a little smug. “Didn’t know you were so into cryptic love notes,” he said, voice maddeningly calm.

You froze. “Huh?”

He pointed casually at your notebook, then raised a brow. “You’re being kind of obvious, you know.”

“Obvious about what?” you snapped, walking back to your seat, already feeling that familiar sense of dread pooling in your stomach.

“Nothing,” he said, smile just barely twitching at the corners. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

And with that, he walked off with your eraser in hand.

-

For the rest of class, you could feel it, eyes burning into the back of your skull like laser beams. Yang Jungwon, for some reason only the gods could explain, wouldn’t stop staring at you.

You turned your head slightly, catching him in the act. His gaze snapped up, caught red-handed. You narrowed your eyes and offered him the most vicious glare you could muster, like you were trying to kill him with pure facial expression alone.

“Stop staring!"

-

After class, Heeseung shot out of his seat like a rocket, clutching his stomach and mumbling something about the milk he drank that morning definitely being expired.

“I swear to God, if I die like this—” he was already halfway out the door.

You snorted, laughing as you packed up your books, slinging your bag over one shoulder while checking your phone. Sunghoon, Jay, and Jake had already texted the group chat, promising to save you and Heeseung a seat at the cafeteria. You were halfway to freedom.

Until an arm blocked your exit.

“What do you want?”

He tilted his head at you, that same smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Y’know, I was wondering why you were playing this whole... thing. The game. The attitude. The icy act. And now I know.”

You blinked. “Know what?”

He grinned wider, like he was about to drop the world’s most obvious truth bomb. “Still playing dumb?”

“What?”

“Come on.” He nudged your shoulder lightly with his own. “Be honest.”

You stared at him, bewildered. “What are you talking about?”

Jungwon rolled his eyes, as if you were the one being dramatic. “Dude. It’s obvious. Just give it up.”

You blinked. Once. Twice. “What—are you on drugs?”

“No—! I—” He looked personally offended by the question, then let out a long-suffering sigh. “I know you like me.”

Silence.

You looked at Jungwon. Then at the floor. Then back at Jungwon.

And then, you burst out laughing.

“You think—” you gasped between giggles, “you think I like you?”

Another wave of uncontrollable laughter ripped through you. You clutched your side, barely able to breathe.

Jungwon blinked, watching you spiral, visibly unsure if he should be flattered or insulted.

By minute two of your personal stand-up comedy routine, his smile had disappeared completely. His arms crossed. His brows furrowed. The tips of his ears turned the faintest shade of pink.

“Okay,” he said, arms still crossed, watching you as your laughter finally died down into breathless wheezing. “You done?”

You wiped your eyes, still catching your breath. “I mean—seriously, Jungwon. Me? Like you? Be so serious right now.”

He stared at you like you were the one being delusional. “I am being serious.”

“You stare at me in class,” he said, casually following you. “A lot.”

You turned on your heel. “What? I glare at you in class.”

“Staring is staring,” he shrugged. “Even with murderous intent.”

“That doesn’t count—”

“You always roll your eyes at me”

“That’s because you deserve it.”

He stepped closer. “You laugh at my jokes.”

“They’re not even funny, it’s like pitiful laughter” you snapped.

“But you still laugh.”

You opened your mouth. Closed it.

Jungwon’s eyes glinted like he’d just scored a point in a very dumb game only he was playing. “You let me copy your notes.”

“That’s because you’d fail if I didn’t!”

“You scold me when I forget my umbrella, and you told Jay I shouldn’t drink soda after 10 p.m. because ‘some people are still growing.’”

“That was a general health comment I made once at a party!”

“Sure it was,” he said smugly.

You stared at him, half in disbelief, half… okay, maybe just a tiny bit panicked. Not because he was right. He wasn’t. Obviously. But because somehow, he had compiled a semi-coherent case of you being suspiciously human around him.

“Jungwon,” you said slowly, carefully, like explaining to a child. “I do not like you.”

He squinted at you, like you were a glitch in his very confident reality.

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I would rather set myself on fire.”

“And I would bring the marshmallows. But that doesn’t change the fact that you like me.”

-

You poked your chicken like it was the one who had personally accused you of emotional damage.

“The chicken’s already dead,” Jay said casually.

You looked up and scowled at him. He raised his hands in mock defence.

“Damn. The things I get for just saying stuff.”

“She looks on edge… Should we tell her the bad news now or later?” Jake whispered.

You turned your glare to him. “What bad news?”

“Nothing!” Jake’s voice shot up an octave. His eyes darted away.

You were terrifying when you were pissed. Like, hella terrifying. Only two people could handle you in that state: Heeseung and your mother.

“Sim Jaeyun, I will tear you up.”

Jake folded instantly. “The rumor! The one about you liking Jungwon and how he rejected you!”

You froze.

“What?!”

You looked at Jake, then at the rest of your friends who were now all suddenly very interested in the contents of their trays.

“Who started this rumour?”

“A few upperclassmen overheard your little... conversation,” Jake said, wincing.

“That conversation happened ten minutes ago.” you yelped. 

Jay shrugged, grimacing. “You know how this school is. Gossip moves fast.”

“So it’s true?” Sunghoon asked, brows raised.

“Ew no!” you snapped, gagging.

Your friends blinked at you in unison.

“The rumor… it’s kinda spreading through the school really fast,” Jake said carefully. “I tried to stop it.”

“Oh really?” you deadpanned. “What did you do?”

He glanced up, sheepish. “I said, ‘oh really?’”

You stared at him. “That’s your damage control?”

“I don’t know! I was just curious if it was true!”

You rubbed your temples. “Don’t you think you guys would know if it was true?”

Jake opened his mouth, but Heeseung beat him to it. “You rarely tell us anything about that secret crush you’re harboring. We just assumed it was him.”

That made you pause. Your head shot up. “What?”

“Oh, cut the crap,” Sunghoon said, leaning back in his seat. “We know you’re in love with someone.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Oh please,” Jay chimed in. “You’re always scribbling those cringe girly things in your textbooks.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I do not.”

“You literally wrote ‘love is a knife’ next to a drawing of a bleeding heart,” Sunghoon said.

“That was an artistic expression!”

“Was it?” Heeseung said through a mouthful of rice.

Jake nodded. “Also, you wrote ‘you’ll only get hurt, don’t fall for him’ like ten times on your English test paper.”

You clutched your tray like it was the only thing keeping you tethered to Earth. “Can we not dissect my mental breakdowns over lunch?!”

The table went quiet for two seconds. Then Jay asked, “So if it’s not Jungwon, then who is it?”

You blinked. Trying not to look over at Heeseung. Then stood up.

“Where are you going?” Jay called.

“To find out who started this rumor,” you said, already storming off.

The noise around you, the clatter of trays, the conversations, the squeak of sneakers on tile—faded into white noise. Your eyes were locked onto one person, and one person only: Yang Jungwon.

He sat at a table near the windows with Ni-ki and Sunoo, laughing at something on Ni-ki’s phone, chopsticks mid-air as he reached for a piece of meat. He didn’t even see you coming.

But he looked up just as your shadow fell over the table.

And the moment his eyes met yours?

It was done.

His expression shifted. Mouth slightly parted. Shock flashing across his face for just a split second before it was replaced by that annoyingly calm, infuriatingly confident smirk. Like he knew.

The entire cafeteria quieted. Forks paused midair. Conversations stopped mid-word. Every single person turned to look. It was like the first ten seconds of a movie scene, right before someone makes a very public mistake.

You didn’t care.

You reached down, grabbed the front of his uniform, and yanked his tie upward, forcing him to stand.

Jungwon stood slowly, the smirk never leaving his face. Your fists were tight in his tie. His face was close now and every pair of eyes in the room was on the two of you.

“We need to talk.”

-

“Well, whatever happened to ‘hello’?” Jungwon said, his voice laced with amusement as you dragged him out of the cafeteria.

You stopped just outside the doors, where the hallway was quiet and empty except for the vending machine humming in the corner. You turned to face him, still gripping his tie, though you finally let go with a dramatic flick of your wrist.

“Did you start that rumor?” you snapped.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow. “What rumor?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

He blinked. “You’re going to have to be more specific. There are a lot of rumors about me. I’m very mysterious.”

You let out a breath through your nose. “The one where I like you. You absolute—” You cut yourself off before your vocabulary got too colorful. “Did you spread it?”

“You think I started that rumor?” he asked, grinning as he leaned a shoulder casually against the wall. “Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know!” you snapped. “Maybe because your ego’s the size of the entire school—”

He held up a hand. “Think about it. Why would I spread the idea that you like me?” He looked at you, head tilted. 

You hated that he had a point.

You stared at him, lips pressed into a thin line. “Look. I don’t like you.”

“Mmm,” he said, pretending to ponder. “Sure.”

“I don’t.”

“Oh, no, totally. You glare at me because you’re overwhelmed with love.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I don’t even like you like that—”

“I know, I know,” Jungwon said, clearly enjoying himself. “It’s okay to be scared of your feelings. Happens to the best of—”

“For God’s sake, I like Heeseung!” you snapped, voice loud and sharp enough to slice through the air like a blade.

Silence.

Jungwon went completely still, the smirk wiped off his face so fast it was like it had never been there to begin with. He stared at you.

“I—” you tried.

But the words got stuck somewhere in your throat.

You looked at him. He looked at you.

And in that quiet hallway, you felt the air around you shift. Not because of what you’d said about him but because of what you’d accidentally admitted about someone else.

Your hand flew up, clamping over your mouth.

Too late.

You said it.

Jungwon blinked once, but didn’t speak. He just stood there, his tie slightly wrinkled, hair a little messy from when you’d grabbed him earlier, like the entire moment had punched a hole in whatever game the two of you had been playing.

You stormed off, heart pounding, fingers raking through your hair like they could somehow untangle the mess you’d just made.

“Whoa, you good?”

You looked up and nearly ran straight into Heeseung.

Perfect.

Just perfect.

He looked at you, one brow raised, concern etched across his features. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You opened your mouth, but your voice came out weird and high-pitched. “I’m fine.”

“Really?” he asked. “I saw you drag Jungwon outside. Thought you were gonna kill him.”

You forced a nod, your heart now beating even faster. Like it was trying to launch itself straight out of your ribcage. “Yeah. Totally fine.”

You tried to brush past him. “Anyway, I should get back to—”

“Wait.” He stepped in front of you gently, blocking your path. “You sure you're okay?”

“I said I’m—” You turned away, flustered, and ran a hand through your hair again, this time tugging a little at the roots. “God. This day is just—stupid.”

“You don’t get like this,” he said. “Not unless something actually gets to you. So are you sure you’re okay?”

You stilled before nodding again.

He watched you for another moment, like he was trying to read between the lines.

“Then… can I ask something?”

You hesitated. “Uh—sure?”

He didn’t look away from you. Didn’t even blink.

“This guy…” Heeseung said quietly. “The one you’ve been writing about. If it’s not Jungwon… then  is it someone I know?”

Your brain short-circuited.

“What?” you asked, like maybe if you pretended not to hear him, this wouldn’t be happening.

But Heeseung just looked at you. Really looked at you. And in that second, you could see it—he knew. Of course he did.

He wasn’t dumb. He noticed things. The way your voice shifted when you talked to him. The way you hovered around his desk longer than necessary. The way you went quiet every time he joked about dating someone. The way you scribbled the same damn line in your notebook like your brain couldn’t let it go.

And now he was standing there, trying to be kind about it. He was trying to let you down easy. Just like how he did with those random girls. 

He even smiled, just a little, just enough to soften the edges of what was coming. “Is it–”

“It’s me.”

Your head snapped toward the voice.

Jungwon.

“She likes me,” he repeated, like he was confirming a fact. “Didn’t you hear the rumor?”

Heeseung blinked, all the softness in his expression flickering into confusion. “Yeah, I heard. But… isn’t it an unfounded rumor?”

Jungwon pushed off the wall and stepped closer. “Well, it’s founded now.”

He looked at Heeseung, then at you. “She likes me.”

The way Jungwon looked at you. And for a second, you understood. And for the first time since this whole disaster started… he was trying to help you. So you nodded.

It was barely a movement, just a small dip of your chin. But Jungwon caught it. And something softened in his expression.

Tears pricked at your eyes, not from anything anyone had said, but from the rejection that hadn’t even come. From the moment you realized Heeseung had been preparing to let you down gently, and you’d beat him to it with a lie.

You turned your gaze toward Jungwon, voice quiet and raw.

“I lied before,” you said. “I like Jungwon.”

That caught Heeseung off guard. He blinked, his brows drawing together. “Hm?”

You couldn’t look at him anymore.

“We just… finished having a little chat, y’know?” Jungwon stepped in smoothly, voice light. “And we decided to give things a try.”

You didn’t speak.

You couldn’t.

Because now you were standing in a lie of your own making, held up only by Jungwon’s unexpected kindness. And somewhere deep down, it hurt more than if Heeseung had just said no.

You couldn’t look up at Heeseung.

You wanted to. You wanted to explain, to laugh it off, to make the world rewind ten minutes—but you couldn’t. You could only look at Jungwon. The boy you hated. The boy who annoyed you more than anyone else on Earth.

But right now?

He was your only hope.

And then you felt it.

His hand, slowly sliding into yours, warm and solid. His other arm came around your shoulder, holding you just enough to make it look real. 

You looked up at him, your back fully turned to Heeseung now, and mouthed, “Get me out of here.”

Jungwon’s fingers tightened around yours.

And for the first time since you'd met him, you saw something completely unfamiliar in his face. Just a quiet seriousness in the way he nodded. Like he understood. Like he knew exactly how badly this was hurting you.

He cleared his throat and looked back at Heeseung.

“Sorry, bro,” Jungwon said. “If it’s okay with you… I really need to tell her something in private. We haven’t really fine-tuned the specifics of our new relationship, so…”

He let the words trail off with a shrug, like this was nothing. 

Heeseung blinked, then nodded slowly.

“Yeah. Sure,” he said, and his voice was quieter now. Then, even softer, “You’re okay?”

“Mhm,” you managed, your voice barely there. “I am.”

“Good.”

You just let Jungwon lead you down the hall, your fingers still laced in his.

You were still crying, your face buried in the front of your mortal enemy’s uniform, and your fists clenched weakly into the fabric like you didn’t know where else to hold on. Your body trembled from the sobs you couldn’t seem to swallow, and it was humiliating in the kind of way that burned. But you couldn’t stop. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t believe you were falling apart like this in front of him.

And yet, there was Jungwon.

He didn’t say much. He didn’t tease, didn’t laugh, didn’t pull away like he normally would’ve if this had happened on any other day in any other world. He just stood there, arm wrapped around your shoulders, hand patting your back with the kind of clumsy way that said he had absolutely no idea what he was doing but he was doing it anyway. Slowly, his palm flattened, movements gentler, slower, as if he finally knew how to comfort you. His fingers brushed circles along your spine, and for some reason, it didn’t feel wrong. It didn’t feel like it was him.

You hiccupped between sobs, your voice muffled against his shirt. “I hate this.”

“I know,” he said softly, and you hated how kind his voice sounded. 

“I hate you,” you added, almost out of reflex, the words heavy and desperate and stupid.

That made him snort, and you felt the faintest rise of his chest with it. “You’re the one sobbing into me, not the other way around.”

You weakly punched his chest with the side of your fist, not even enough force to matter. “Shut up.”

Eventually, the tears stopped.

Not all at once, but slowly. Like your body had run out of grief for the moment and was now just tired. The shaking eased. Your breathing slowed. The front of Jungwon’s shirt was slightly damp where your face had been, and the realization of that sent a fresh wave of embarrassment crawling up your spine.

You pulled back just enough to wipe at your eyes with the sleeves of your uniform, not looking at him. His arm was still around your shoulder, though he loosened it a little like he wasn’t sure if it was still needed. He didn’t say anything right away. He gave you space to gather yourself.

Then you cleared your throat, “How bout that weather…” 

“You really don’t like talking about your feelings.”

“Not to you.” You said.

“Right…” He nodded.

Then he was quiet again, like he was letting you bask in the silence.

“You know,” he said slowly, resting his chin on his hand, “now it’s starting to make a little more sense.”

“What is?” you asked, wary.

He shrugged. “Y’know… the way you brighten up when Heeseung walks into the classroom—”

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you actively trying to push me down a slippery slope right now?”

“No but if it helps,” he added, “I think you handled it way better than I would’ve.”

-

You didn’t really speak to Jungwon for the rest of the day.

Not because you were mad at him. Not even because things were awkward. You just figured he’d already done enough for you. The least you could do was give him some space. Let him sit at his desk, laugh at whatever Ni-ki was whispering beside him, and pretend today had been normal.

But it was hard.

It was hard not to think about it when Lee Heeseung was sitting directly in front of you…existing.

You stared at the back of his head, trying to focus on anything else. The clock ticking too slow. The corner of your worksheet. The pen cap between your fingers. Anything.

And then it happened.

Another wave of emotion.

You felt it build in your chest rising fast, sharp and hot, wrapping around your lungs until it was hard to breathe. A quiet whimper slipped out before you could stop it. You slapped a hand over your mouth, eyes wide, panic rising.

Heeseung started to turn in his seat, halfway twisting to check on you. “Hey, are you—?”

You stood up abruptly.

Didn’t answer. Didn’t look at him. Just walked fast, unsteady, as you made your way across the classroom. Jungwon was at the back, hunched over his notebook, laughing at something Ni-ki had drawn in the margins.

You stopped beside his desk, eyes already glassy. He turned, mid-laugh, only to freeze when he saw your face. The smile fell. His eyes darted to your hands, then your face again, immediately reading the panic.

His chair scraped back as he stood.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly, voice lower now. 

You swallowed hard. “I felt emotion.”

He blinked. “That’s… great?”

“Negative emotion,” you clarified, your voice barely holding steady.

“Oh.”

He didn’t say anything else. Just stepped around his chair and gently took your wrist, guiding you away from the rows of desks, past curious glances and hushed whispers. You felt Ni-ki’s eyes follow you as Jungwon pulled you toward the door.

“Come on,” he murmured. 

And you followed.

Because even though he was the last person you ever imagined seeking comfort from…

He was the only one who actually knew what to do with you.

Jungwon didn’t say a word as he led you up the stairs, his grip on your wrist light but steady.

You just followed…past the classroom door, past curious stares, past whatever thoughts were trying to claw their way into your head. Up one flight of stairs, then another. The world narrowed to the sound of your footsteps and the quiet hum of the building.

When he pushed open the rooftop door, the breeze hit you first. You stepped out slowly, blinking at the sudden wash of sunlight, and Jungwon finally let go of your wrist. He walked ahead a few steps, then turned and sat on the short concrete ledge that wrapped around the rooftop’s edge. His shoulders relaxed, his usual energy fading into something quieter as he glanced toward the sky. For once, he didn’t fill the silence with teasing.

You stood there for a second, arms crossed over your chest, not sure if the tightness in your throat was going to come back or not.

Then you let out a breath and walked over to sit beside him.

He didn’t look at you. Just kept his eyes on the sky, one leg bouncing slightly against the ledge, like he was giving you space to start first—if you wanted to.

“I didn’t mean to cry,” you said eventually.

“Well…you’re processing all of this in just one day so I figured…you wouldn’t be too…okay.”

You turned to look at him. He was still facing forward, but there was something in the set of his jaw, the way his hands were folded loosely in his lap that told you he wasn’t brushing this off. He was listening.

After a moment, he tilted his head and finally looked at you.

“I get why you didn’t tell him,” he said. “Heeseung.”

Your shoulders tensed. “Do you?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “You didn’t want to ruin the thing you had. You liked the version of him that didn’t know. It was safer.”

You blinked.

He wasn’t wrong.

You looked down at your hands. “Is that stupid?”

“No,” he said. “You’re a good person.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You weren’t used to Jungwon being serious. You weren’t used to anyone being this gentle with you when you were messy and falling apart. You opened your mouth to say something but your voice didn’t come out.

Instead, you just sat there, next to the boy you hated. The boy who pretended to be your 2 minute boyfriend for the sake of your dignity. 

The wind picked up slightly, tousling your hair as you stared down at your hands, the silence between you and Jungwon finally feeling a little less heavy.

You didn’t expect it when he said, “Do you want a hug?”

You looked up, surprised. “What?”

He shifted a little, clearly second-guessing himself now that the words were out. “You know. Like—just if it helps. People do that. In sad movies and stuff.”

You gave him a look. “Are you insane? Why would I hug you?”

“Well… I’m sorry for offering one! I thought girls liked it—I watched a movie—”

“If I hug you, will you shut up?” you cut in, glaring.

“No. Now I don’t want to hug you anymore,” Jungwon said, crossing his arms.

“Oh please. You’re such a child.”

“Oh, I’m the child?” he scoffed. “Just accept the warm embrace of an acquaintance trying to help you.”

“Gross.”

“Oh, real mature,” he snapped.

“I’ll have you know I am mature,” you replied, poking a finger into his arm.

“Oh really?” he shot back. “Crying over someone and then not being brave enough to hug your mortal enemy who’s been helping you sounds super mature.”

Your eyes narrowed. “I am mature.”

“Prove it.”

“I will!”

“Go ahead, then!”

You stepped forward, arms raised like a dare. “Look. I’ll hug you right now!”

And just as you lunged forward—arms out, dramatically wrapping around Jungwon in the most half-committed, competitive embrace of all time—

“HEY!”

You both froze mid-hug, heads turning slowly toward the rooftop door where the school security guard was now standing, arms crossed and judgment fully loaded.

Jungwon's arms were still halfway around you. Your face was about three inches from his shoulder. Neither of you moved.

“You two!” the guard shouted. “You think I don’t see you?! This is a school, not a honeymoon!”

You jumped back so fast you nearly tripped over your own feet.

“Wait—no—we weren’t—!” you yelped.

“We don’t even like each other like that!” Jungwon added quickly, already putting space between you two like it would erase the entire situation.

The guard squinted. “Uh-huh. Down the stairs. Now.”

“But we didn’t even—”

“Go!”

-

You opened the door to your house and stepped inside, already dreading what fresh embarrassment awaited you. Kicking your shoes off at the door, you called out automatically, “I’m home!”

From the kitchen came your mom’s voice, loud and cheerful: “Did Heeseung come today?”

Your soul left your body.

“No,” you called back, grimacing. “I… brought another friend though.”

The word friend felt foreign and uncomfortable in your mouth. It sounded wrong.

Behind you, Jungwon stepped in, hands in his pockets, looking around curiously like he was touring a museum. His eyes skimmed over the hallway, the furniture, the wall of framed photos—until one in particular made him pause.

“Cute,” he said, pointing at a picture hung slightly crooked on the wall.

You turned your head.

It was you. Age six. Dressed in mismatched pajamas, standing in the backyard with a watermelon slice in both hands and two missing front teeth.

You groaned, already regretting everything about this.

Jungwon turned to you, grinning like he’d just discovered a secret.

“Don’t.”

“But it’s so cute.”

“I will push you down the stairs.”

Then your mom appeared in the hallway, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Oh! Is this him?” she beamed.

You didn’t even have time to introduce him before Jungwon stepped forward with a charming smile and said, “Hi Auntie, I’m Jungwon. It’s really nice to meet you.”

Instead, your mom smiled like she’d just met her future son-in-law and said, “Jungwon? The Yang Jungwon? My daughter talks about you all the time.”

Jungwon smirked, “She does? Good things, I hope.”

Your mom paused, visibly digging through memories.

“Well,” she said, thoughtfully, “he doesn’t look anything like you described.”

Your stomach dropped. “Mom.”

Jungwon tilted his head, curious. “Oh? How did she describe me?”

Your mom smiled warmly, like this was the most innocent conversation in the world. “Do you know that green monster? It’s this cartoon she used to love? What’s it called… Shrill…Shr…Shrek?”

Jungwon’s smile froze.

“Shrek?”

Your mom nodded, completely sincere. “Yes! But I don’t see it. You’re very handsome.”

Jungwon turned to you, eyebrows raised. “You think I look like Shrek?”

You stared at the ceiling, wishing for divine intervention. “Well. Are you forgetting that I hate you or–”

“Sweetheart,” your mom interjected, “we do not hate.”

You sighed. “You didn’t let me finish. I meant to say I don’t hate him anymore.”

Jungwon blinked. “Anymore?”

Your mom raised an eyebrow. “Wasn’t it just yesterday that you said you wanted to boil him alive?”

“Oh wow,” Jungwon muttered. “That’s awfully graphic.”

You gave her a look. “A day can change someone’s opinion.”

Your mom ignored you, looking over to Jungwon and beamed. “Would you like some oranges?”

You stood up immediately. “He’s probably busy, I’m walking him out.”

“Stay for dinner!” she called.

“She’s gonna kill me,” Jungwon whispered.

“Not on my watch,” your mom said, standing in front of the doorway like a tiny but terrifying general. “Stay for dinner. This is a demand.”

Jungwon blinked. “Okay.”

He nodded obediently, already kicking his shoes off. You stared at him, betrayed by the switch up. He looked over his shoulder and smiled at you. 

You glared. You knew he was enjoying this.

-

Ten minutes later, you were upstairs, towel in hand, trying to mentally detach yourself from the fact that Jungwon was in your kitchen. With your mom. Bonding.

You could still hear them through the floor vents.

The occasional “Oh, she did what?” from Jungwon that made you slam your door shut just a little louder than necessary.

Downstairs, Jungwon stood at the counter beside your mom, sleeves rolled up as he helped slice vegetables for dinner. It was strangely peaceful.

“She’s stubborn,” your mom said as she chopped green onions with practiced precision. “She gets it from her father.”

“Oh yeah,” Jungwon replied with a smirk. “She once refused to do group work unless we let her pick the team name.”

“She picked the name, didn’t she?”

“Friends 4ever. With the number four.’”

Your mom laughed.

“She’s a little difficult, you know,” she added, softer now. “Strong-willed. Always arguing.”

“She’s kind of like that at school, too,” he said. “Always trying to win every conversation. Gets dramatic about almost everything. Complains about anything.”

“But I guess…” he continued, glancing toward the stairs without meaning to, “she’s also the first person to offer you her charger when your phone’s dying. Or send you the notes even when you didn’t ask. She’ll grumble the whole time, but she’ll do it. Even if she claims she hates you.”

He paused. “She’s kind of… sweet. When no one’s watching.”

Your mom didn’t say anything, just quietly slid another cutting board toward him.

“And,” Jungwon said after a moment, his eyes flicking back to the tomatoes he was slicing, “she’s… really something.”

Your mom didn’t respond, just kept chopping, quiet and patient.

He kept going, almost like he was talking to himself now.

“She does this thing when she’s mad—flips her hair, real dramatic. It’s actually kind of funny. Like she’s about to fight someone. As if anyone could take her seriously.”

Your mom chuckled softly.

“And when she’s nervous,” Jungwon added, “she bites her finger. Not like the finer but just the nail. Like she doesn’t know she’s doing it which is probably why her nails are so brittle and short all the time.”

There was a small pause.

“And she has this smile,” he said, voice softer now, the rhythm of his chopping slowing. “It’s kinda crooked. Only shows on one side at first. And it only shows up when she thinks no one’s looking.”

He let out a quiet chuckle and shook his head.

“It’s cute.”

He didn’t even realize he’d said it.

Your mom didn’t say anything.

She just looked at him.

And for a split second, Jungwon realized he may have said a little too much.

But your mom just gave a small nod and turned back to her vegetables. She didn’t say anything, not then. Not about the way he’d talked about you. Not about the little smile that had curled at the corner of his mouth without him noticing.

She just let it sit there.

Like maybe, just maybe, she knew.

Because whether he realized it or not…

Jungwon liked you.

-

Dinner was a mistake.

Not because the food wasn’t good, your mom had gone all out, as usual, and Jungwon, the absolute traitor, had already complimented the soup three separate times.

No. The mistake was sitting down across from both of them like you were the guest of those roasts celebrities did.

“She used to cry if her rice was touching the sauce so we had to separate it far apart,” your mom said, setting a bowl in front of Jungwon.

“I did not,” you muttered, stabbing a piece of tofu.

“You definitely did,” your mom confirmed.

“That explains so much,” Jungwon said, barely holding in a laugh.

You rolled your eyes. “I was five.”

“She was five and dramatic,” your mom added, sitting down beside you.

“She’s still dramatic,” Jungwon said under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

You glared at him across the table. “I can literally throw this bowl at your head.”

“She says that, but she won’t,” he smirked. “Too soft.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I am not soft.”

“Oh really?” he grinned, leaning over the table slightly. “Say it again without pouting.”

“I’m not—!”

But before you could finish, he reached forward and pinched both of your cheeks at once, squishing your face together.

“You’re adorable,” he said in the most irritatingly smug voice you’d ever heard.

“Yang Jung–” You burst into laughter, batting his hands away while trying to keep a straight face. “Get off me!”

He sat back, grinning, while you glared at him through the tail end of your laughter.

And then it hit you, your mom had gone silent.

You both turned at the same time.

She was watching the two of you with her chin in her hand, smiling.

“What?” you and Jungwon said in unison.

She didn’t answer. Just smiled.

After helping your mom with the dishes, Jungwon stood by the door, sliding his shoes back on with the same efficiency he did everything else.

You hovered near the entryway, arms crossed lightly over your chest. The words were already building in your throat, but when they finally came out, they sounded more like a mumble.

“Thanks… for today.”

He looked up mid–shoelace knot, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re surprisingly fun to hang out with,” you added, slightly louder, refusing to make eye contact.

“Oh really now?” Jungwon grinned.

“I’m not repeating it.”

“Didn’t say you had to,” he said, pulling the knot tight and standing up with a sigh.

He glanced down at you, smile softer now. “Not gonna lie… I had fun today too.”

You nodded. “It was… a little dramatic. But fun. Even though half the day was me crying.”

“You’re taking today better than anyone would’ve,” he said.

“Well, yeah. Because I’m strong.” You smiled, baring your teeth just a little like it was part joke, part fact.

“You are,” he said without missing a beat. “You did really good today.”

You blinked. Your smile faded, just slightly, the air around you going a little still.

Because he wasn’t joking.

He wasn’t teasing, or playing, or waiting to say something sarcastic afterward.

And for some reason, that made your chest ache in a way that was hard to explain.

You nodded, looking down at your socks. “Right. Thanks.”

“It’s fine,” he said, rocking on his heels. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

“Friends?” you echoed. A slow, skeptical smile crept onto your face. “I’m friends with Yang Jungwon?”

He smirked. “Surprise, surprise. Turns out I’m actually real fun and a decent guy. The things you find out when your first love breaks your heart.”

Your smile dropped instantly into a frown.

He winced. “Too soon?”

“You think?” you deadpanned.

Jungwon laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, fair. Poor timing.”

You shook your head, the edge of a reluctant smile tugging at your lips again despite yourself. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Still your friend, though,” he said, nudging your shoulder lightly with his own.

-

The next few days were… funny.

Suddenly, all eyes were on you and Jungwon. Whispered questions trailed behind you in the hallways. Side glances turned into straight-up stares. Were the two of you really dating? Was it serious? Were you holding hands after school or just walking next to each other by accident?

You didn’t bother answering. Neither did Jungwon.

Let them wonder.

And maybe that was the problem. Because you weren’t exactly doing anything to make it look less real.

You hung out with him more now. A lot more. Every lunch break, after eating with your usual group, you’d pick up your tray and walk over to his table like it was muscle memory. You’d sit beside him, sometimes across, depending on the day. And it never felt weird.

In fact, it felt... easy.

Your friends didn’t say much. They’d just exchange glances or smile knowingly as you wandered off with your tray, all of them clearly under the impression that the two of you were trying to date. Trying to “work it out.”

And you let them think that.

Maybe because correcting them would mean explaining how stupid your first heartbreak (if you could even call it that) felt.

And if you thought about it too hard, about how Jungwon always saved you a seat without asking, or how he passed you the parts of his lunch you liked without a word, or how he said things like "you look tired today" in a voice that made you feel seen.

You were sure you didn’t have any feelings for Jungwon. None. Whatsoever. The idea was laughable, really. Besides, you were still emotionally recuperating from your extremely inconvenient, mildly soul-crushing crush on Heeseung. It had been a whole month since the incident. You were healing. You were doing so much better now. You could even look at Heeseung and have a full conversation without tearing your eyelids off or biting your tongue in half. That was progress. Real, mature, adult-level progress.

And okay, so maybe you hung out with Jungwon a lot. And maybe he texted you dumb TikToks at 2 a.m. and maybe you always answered. And maybe you knew his favorite bubble tea order by heart now and maybe he always ate the cherry tomato from your lunch when you didn’t want it. But that didn’t mean anything.

-

Lunch was loud as usual, someone shouting across the cafeteria, trays clattering, a wave of laughter erupting from one of the far tables. You tuned most of it out as you made your way to the back, tray in hand, moving on autopilot.

You didn’t even ask if you could sit next to him anymore. You just did.

Jungwon was already mid-conversation with Ni-ki, hands moving as he animatedly reenacted something ridiculous like Sunoo falling down the stairs again. You set your tray down next to his, plopped into the seat, and sighed.

“Aw man, I forgot my banana milk.”

You didn’t expect anyone to answer. You hadn’t even meant to say it out loud.

But without missing a beat, Jungwon reached into the side pocket of his backpack, pulled out a packet of banana milk, and slid it across the table toward you, all while still talking to Ni-ki.

“Oh, yay!” You mumbled.

He just nodded like it was nothing, like this was routine, like he hadn’t just read your mind.

You opened the straw, eyes still on him, quietly puzzled.

Then he reached for the pair of disposable chopsticks sitting on your tray. Snapped them clean in one quick motion. Rubbed them together, precisely three times, just the way you did when you thought they felt too splintery.

Again, he didn’t say anything. Just broke the chopsticks and placed them neatly back on your tray before going back to his story.

And you were still sitting there, watching him.

Then came the final hit: your tonkatsu.

You hadn’t even started eating yet. Just poking at the rice absentmindedly, eyes wandering around the cafeteria while you waited for your brain to feel like food. But Jungwon, with his fork already halfway through his own meal, glanced at your tray and casually reached over with your knife cutting up your tonkatsu into neat little pieces before you even realized it.

He didn’t even look.

He just did it.

All while telling Ni-ki about how someone had nearly set the chem lab on fire.

You sat there, twiddling your thumbs, watching him work through your tray like he’d done it a hundred times before. Like it was muscle memory. Like it was natural.

And that was the moment it hit you.

He knew you.

Not just the surface-level stuff. Not just your favorite color or your star sign or your Instagram handle.

He knew how you liked your chopsticks. Knew your go-to drink without asking. Knew when you weren’t feeling hungry enough to start on your food, but still wanted it ready.

You didn’t even know when he started paying attention.

But he had.

You stared at him.

He looked up mid-sentence and blinked. “What?”

You shook your head quickly. “Nothing.”

-

It wasn’t supposed to turn into a routine.

But it did.

Ever since that one dinner at your house, Jungwon had started coming over. At first, once. Then again. Then twice a week. Now, it was just expected. Part of the schedule.

Your mom adored him. Naturally.

And somehow, your dad, who was barely home before 9 p.m. most days, knew him too. Not in the passing, handshake-and-small-talk kind of way. No. He knew him. Asked him about his classes. Invited him to stay for dessert. Offered him beer once. Jungwon declined politely, of course, but still. You weren’t sure your dad even knew your blood type, and yet he knew Jungwon’s college plans.

He was a crowd favorite in your house.

And he made himself at home like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He knew where everything went now. The moment you stepped into the entryway after school, he’d lean down, take your coat off your shoulders without being asked, and hang it by the door while placing his shoes neatly on the rack. Then he’d stroll into the kitchen to greet your mom with the same cheery “Hi, Auntie!” like he lived there.

He’d wait for you to finish showering..

And by the time you came out, hair damp, wrapped in your towel robe, your favorite show would already be playing on the living room TV. He’d set a hot cup of tea in front of the couch, carefully positioned at your usual spot. He never drank it himself. Just made it for you. Every time.

You never had to ask.

Then he’d return to the kitchen to help your mom with dinner, sleeves rolled up, chopping and washing and stirring like he belonged in that apron. You could hear them from the living room. Talking. Giggling over some ridiculous story he’d tell about you at school. How you tripped over your own shoelaces in front of the vending machine. How you pretended to be allergic to gym just to avoid running.

Your mom loved it. Ate it all up.

And then came dinner.

He’d set the table without being asked. Laid out all your favorite dishes in front of your seat. Your favorite part of the chicken already on your plate—deboned. The kimchi snipped into bite-sized pieces with the kitchen scissors, just the way you liked it. 

You sat down, glanced at your plate, and everything was already done.

He didn’t even sit until you did.

And you never asked him to do any of it.

He just did.

Like he'd been watching and learning you this whole time.

And it was easy, so, so easy to pretend it was normal.

But every now and then, while sipping your tea and watching him laugh with your family like he was part of it, you’d get this strange feeling in your chest.

Dinner was normal. Jungwon was helping your dad refill side dishes, your mom was happily recounting a story from her work, and you were comfortably tucked into the rhythm of your usual meal. For a while, everything felt good.

Until, mid-bite, your mom looked up and said, “By the way, sweetheart… how’s Heeseung?”

You froze.

It wasn’t even a pointed question. Just a casual thought, dropped innocently into the center of the table like it wasn’t going to crack everything open.

She laughed a little, smiling to herself. “I still remember how the two of you kept saying you’d marry each other when you grew up. Now I rarely see him.” She sighed, fond and wistful. “Kids grow up so fast, huh, dear?”

Your dad chuckled, nodding in agreement. “Ah, well. He’s a smart boy. Probably busy studying.”

You nodded, careful to keep your voice light. “Yeah. I’ll ask him to come over with the others next time they’re free.”

“Oh, please do,” your mom said. “I miss them.”

You nodded again, forcing a smile, trying to say all the right things because that’s what you did. 

But then your eyes drifted across the table.

To Jungwon.

He was quietly playing with a piece of chicken on his plate. Not eating. Not listening.

Just moving it around like it didn’t matter.

Like he didn’t want to be there.

And it bothered you.

“Won,” you said softly, “you okay?”

He looked up quickly, blinking like you’d snapped him out of something. His expression didn’t falter, not even for a second. A smile appeared right on cue—bright, easy.

“Yeah,” he said, voice smooth. “I’m good!”

Then, without missing a beat, he popped the chicken into his mouth and turned to your dad with a question about soccer, like the moment had never happened.

Like he hadn’t just gone completely silent.

Like the name Heeseung hadn’t changed the entire air around him.

You stared for a moment longer, something tight curling in your stomach.

He was acting normal.

And that was the most unconvincing part of all.

-

You were laying on your stomach, sprawled across your bed like roadkill, head buried halfway into your pillow and the corners of your math textbook stabbing your ribs. The numbers blurred in and out of focus. Functions, graphs, equations, you were pretty sure none of this was going to help you in your actual future unless you somehow grew up to become a calculator.

“This is actual torture,” you groaned.

Jungwon, who had been spinning gently in your roller chair like he lived there, snorted. “Oh, c’mon. There’s literally two more questions.”

“That’s two more than I want to do,” you grumbled.

He rolled over beside you and reached out to poke your side, right where he knew you were ticklish. You flinched with a squeak, kicking your leg back without looking.

“Fine!” you whined dramatically, lifting your head just enough to glare at the textbook. “But I genuinely think they should’ve used math for death row instead of the guillotine.”

Jungwon just laughed and started reading out the next question aloud, voice low and casual. He mumbled through the word problem, pausing here and there as he tried to figure it out, assuming you were listening.

But you weren’t.

Not really.

Because at some point, your eyes had drifted toward him and they hadn’t moved since.

You watched the way his lips moved around, soft and easy, every syllable deliberate. You noticed the way his eyebrows furrowed when he got stuck, how his eyes went wider when something clicked. How he bit his lip when he was trying to remember a formula. How he licked the corner of his mouth absentmindedly when he was really thinking.

You blinked.

And then blinked again.

Because suddenly you were no longer hearing anything he was saying.

Instead, all you could think about was how close he was. How warm his voice was. How much you wanted to lean forward and—

Your heart stuttered. You blinked hard and sat up a little too quickly, grabbing your pencil like it was some sort of emotional grounding stick.

Did you just—?

Were you actually just thinking about kissing Jungwon? Yang Jungwon.

You stared at your textbook in horror, the numbers looking even worse now.

You were in trouble.

“Okay, seriously,” Jungwon sighed, dragging his chair closer. “You’re just not listening at this point.”

“I am listening,” you lied, gripping your pencil tightly.

“You’ve been stuck on the same question for more than five minutes.”

You blinked at him, heart still racing from your earlier thoughts. “Well, maybe if math was as interesting as, I don’t know, literally anything else—”

“Okay, that’s it,” he muttered, rolling his chair right up to your bedside and leaning over your textbook. “Come here. I’m showing you.”

Before you could protest, he was right there, sliding the textbook toward both of you, one hand pressed casually beside your arm, the other using his pen to point at the equation. His voice was low, focused.

“So here, this part,” he said, tapping the numbers, “you just need to factor this term and then move it to the other side.”

You tried to follow.

You really did.

But your brain had fully abandoned you. All you could focus on was how close he was. The warm brush of his arm against yours. The subtle scent of his shampoo—something citrusy and soft. His lips moved just inches from your face, forming words you couldn’t process. His eyelashes flicked downward, dark and long, as he concentrated.

And then he paused, glancing up when he noticed your lack of response.

“Are you even—”

He turned to look at you.

And you were already looking at him.

The movement brought your faces dangerously close, just an inch between your mouths. Close enough to feel his breath catch. Close enough to notice the way his lips parted slightly in surprise. Close enough that if either of you tilted just a little, you’d be kissing.

Everything around you faded, the ticking of your clock, the noise outside, the textbook lying open and ignored between you. 

He didn’t move.

Neither did you.

The space between you was impossibly small—an inch, maybe less. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your lips. Your heart thudded so loudly you were convinced he could hear it. He wasn’t smiling anymore. Neither were you. 

Jungwon’s eyes dropped briefly to your mouth.

Your breath hitched.

And then, softly, gently his hand came up, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered at your jaw, featherlight.

“Would it be stupid if I kissed you?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Your throat tightened.You shook your head.

He leaned in the tiniest bit, like the air between you was magnetic, like maybe you were already meeting halfway—

Knock knock knock

“My love, I cut some oranges!”

You both flinched, violently.

You practically fell off the bed. Jungwon shot back in his chair so fast it nearly rolled into the wall.

There was a beat of stunned silence.

Then your mom’s voice called again, cheerful and oblivious: “Should I bring them in?”

“No!” you and Jungwon shouted at the same time.

Another beat of silence.

“…Okay, then,” she replied, still chipper, her footsteps padding back down the hallway.

You stared at the floor, heart hammering, trying to remember how to breathe.

Jungwon cleared his throat.

You still couldn’t look at him.

He still wasn’t looking at you.

Neither of you spoke.

You just turned back to the math textbook.

But suddenly, you couldn’t remember what the question was anymore.

Jungwon was the first to move.

Fast.

Too fast.

He stood up abruptly, muttering something about homework and his mom probably texting him. He was already grabbing his bag, already rolling his sleeves back down, already not looking at you.

You blinked.

He didn’t even say goodbye.

Just a quick, “See you tomorrow,” tossed over his shoulder like it meant nothing. Like you weren’t both still sitting in the ruins of something that almost happened.

And then the door shut behind him.

-

The next day at school, neither of you said a word.

You saw him across the courtyard that morning, maybe thirty feet away. Normally, you would’ve walked beside him, bumped shoulders, made some snarky comment about his bed hair. But today?

You turned the other way.

By the time Math class rolled around, your nerves were already shot.

You walked into the classroom a few minutes early, automatically glancing toward his seat.

Empty.

Good.

You sat down, keeping your eyes locked on your desk. Your stomach felt weird. 

Jungwon came in two minutes later, quietly slipping into his seat like a ghost. Not a single glance in your direction. Not even the usual eye-roll or quiet hey.

You didn't look at him either.

Not once.

And then the teacher began going through the homework questions.

“Alright,” she said, tapping her marker against the whiteboard. “Now for question eight. Let’s go over this together. Anyone want to walk me through it?”

Your eyes dropped to your open textbook.

There it was.

Question eight.

The one he was explaining. The one you weren’t listening to. The one you didn’t hear a single word of because you were too busy staring at his mouth and imagining something that never happened.

“I need to go to the bathroom!”

“I need to go to the bathroom!”

Both of you said it at the exact same time.

The entire class turned.

Even the teacher paused, marker still in hand, eyebrows rising slowly.

You didn’t dare look at him. Not directly. But out of the corner of your eye, you could see Jungwon frozen mid-shuffle, eyes slightly wide, caught in the same panic as you.

A beat of silence passed.

“...Is there something wrong with the school water?” your teacher asked dryly.

No one laughed.

No one said anything.

You both stood there like two idiots sharing one brain cell, equally horrified that you’d spoken in sync, equally determined not to explain why.

“Fine,” your teacher sighed after a moment and then waved her hand. “Go.”

You didn’t wait.

The next thing you knew, you both bolted out of the room like you were fleeing a crime scene.

You kept walking. He kept walking. Until finally, both of you turned a corner—empty corridor, cold tile, no witnesses.

“We need to talk.”

Jungwon was the first to speak, voice quiet but steady. 

You shifted your weight, eyes flicking away. “About what?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You know what.”

You crossed your arms. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

“I do,” he said, firmer this time. “I don’t know about you, but you’ve become a routine to me. So I can’t possibly pretend nothing’s wrong. Because it’ll feel weird if I can’t… do things for you. If I can’t be next to you.”

You blinked, throat tightening. “Jungwon—school barely started.”

“And we didn’t even go into class together.”

His voice cracked just slightly at the end.

You finally looked at him.

He wasn’t mad. He wasn’t even pushing. He just looked... lost. Like he didn’t know where to put any of this.

“I didn’t know if I should say hi,” he added quietly. “I didn’t know if I should sit next to you. If I should look at you. And that’s the part that freaked me out the most.”

“Look,” Jungwon said, his voice lower now, more careful. “We can pretend it didn’t happen last night.”

You blinked at him, heart stalling.

“Like we didn’t almost kiss,” he added, like saying it out loud might make it less real. “If it makes you feel better.”

You stayed quiet.

Not because you didn’t have anything to say.

But because you didn’t know how to say it. Because the word almost hit harder than it should’ve. Because it hadn’t happened but it almost did. And that almost felt like a confession in its own right.

Jungwon rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s fine. I mean—it was late. We were tired. You were upset. It’s probably better we didn’t—”

“Don’t,” you said suddenly.

He froze. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t try to explain it away like it didn’t mean anything.”

He looked at you then. Really looked. And for a second, neither of you breathed.

“I’m not saying it meant something,” you added quickly, heart pounding now. “I’m just saying… don’t pretend like it didn’t almost…happen..”

Jungwon swallowed hard. Nodded once. “Then…should we talk about it?”

You were about to nod–

“Hey,” Heeseung’s voice called out, casual and bright, like he hadn’t just stepped straight into the middle of something fragile. “You ready to head to the next class?”

You jolted upright. Your body moved before your mind could catch up. The sudden intrusion cracked the moment like glass underfoot. Jungwon stiffened beside you, his eyes flicking to Heeseung, then back to you.

He didn’t say anything.

Didn’t smile.

Didn’t offer even a quiet “see you later.”

Something in him shifted. A flicker of hesitation. A wall going up too fast to stop. You weren’t sure what it was, not exactly but it made your stomach twist, cold and tight. He just looked at you, a beat too long, like he was deciding whether or not to say something. And then he didn’t. He turned and walked away.

But just before he rounded the corner, he looked back.

That one glance hit harder than anything else he could’ve done. You met his eyes. For half a second, neither of you blinked.

Then you shook your head.

And you followed Heeseung.

He didn’t seem to notice at first. Just walked next to you, casual as always, your shoulder brushing his in the way it used to feel comforting. Today it felt like pressure.

It was silent for a while. Then, gently, Heeseung asked, “Are you okay?”

Your throat tightened. The honest answer formed before you could lie.

“No,” you said, quiet and shaky.

He stopped walking. Turned to face you fully, brows furrowed now. “Does this have something to do with… Jungwon?”

You didn’t answer immediately. You couldn’t. There was a sharp sting in your chest. A lump in your throat you couldn’t seem to swallow down. Because it wasn’t just the almost-kiss or the silence or the way he couldn’t look at you in class. It was the fact that you didn’t want to pretend anymore. And it was terrifying.

You nodded.

Just once.

And suddenly the hallway felt too long, and your next class felt impossibly far away, and your heart… didn’t know what to do with itself anymore.

-

Jungwon shouldn’t have looked back.

He knew it the second he did, that one glance over his shoulder felt like walking into the very thing he was trying to leave behind. But he looked anyway.

And there you were. Standing beside Heeseung. Nodding. Following.

Not him.

Jungwon’s jaw clenched. He turned back around quickly, the hallway ahead of him blurring around the edges. He didn’t know what he’d been hoping to see. That you’d hesitate? That you’d stop? That maybe you’d chase him?

But you didn’t.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to breathe through the pressure that had started building in his chest. It was stupid. All of it. You weren’t even dating. The fake thing had never meant to go this far. 

Except.

He was ready.

Or at least, he had been right up until Heeseung showed up and you nodded like he was the one you wanted to follow. Like he was still the center of your universe, even after everything. And now Jungwon wasn’t sure if he was more mad at himself… or at the situation.

Because if he hadn’t hesitated last night…

If he’d just kissed you…

Would you still have walked away?

-

You stopped walking.

Just like that, your feet rooted themselves to the floor.

“I like him,” you murmured, so low it felt more like an admission to yourself than anyone else.

Heeseung turned back instantly, confused. “What?”

Your eyes were fixed on the floor now. You didn’t move, didn’t blink. Your voice was steadier the second time, but your heart pounded so loud you could barely hear yourself speak.

“I like Jungwon.”

Heeseung stared at you. There was no shock in his expression, not really.

“Yeah,” he said gently, nodding once. “I know. I thought we cleared that up.”

You shook your head. “No. Heeseung, you don’t get it.”

You looked up, finally meeting his eyes.

“I really like him.”

The words were soft.

“I was pretending at first—like it was funny, like it was just to get past the whole thing with you, or the rumor, or whatever. And I told myself it didn’t mean anything. I kept saying it didn’t. But now…” You paused, your voice catching in your throat.

“Now I don’t think I’m pretending anymore,” you whispered. “I think I actually… really do like him.”

The hallway was quiet.

So quiet, it almost scared you.

Heeseung didn’t say anything at first. He just stood there, letting the weight of your words settle between you. And then, very softly, he exhaled.

You looked down, your throat tight.

“He probably needs to hear it, too.”

You hesitated. “What if—”

“If you keep thinking about what ifs instead of doing something about it,” he interrupted gently, but firmly, “then nothing’s ever going to come out of it.”

“You’ve been brave for other people before,” he added, watching you closely. “Try being brave for yourself this time.”

That broke something in you.

Your heart clenched, your feet already itching to move. Because he was right. Because this wasn’t about timing anymore, it was about trying.

You met his eyes.

And then you ran.

Your shoes hit the floor hard as you bolted down the corridor, barely registering the blur of students and teachers around you. You didn’t know what you were going to say. You didn’t have a speech. You just knew you had to find him. 

You checked his next class first, flinging the door open with more force than necessary. A few students looked up. The teacher hadn’t arrived yet. But Jungwon wasn’t there.

“Have you seen Jungwon?” you asked, eyes wide, voice tight. The girl closest to the door shook her head, confused, and that was all you needed to be gone again.

You searched the cafeteria—empty. The courtyard—quiet. The stairwell, the science wing, even the vending machines by the old lockers. Nowhere.

He wasn’t anywhere.

Finally, you reached the rooftop. Your last hope.

You pushed open the door so hard it banged against the wall with a clang that echoed across the open space.

But no one answered.

The wind rushed past your ears as you stepped forward slowly, chest heaving.

The rooftop was empty.

You stood alone on the rooftop, surrounded by silence and cold metal railings, your breath forming quick clouds in the crisp afternoon air. Your fingers curled tightly into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you tried to swallow down the frustration bubbling in your chest.

"God," you muttered under your breath, voice cracking at the edges. Your hand shot up, dragging through your hair with shaky frustration. The wind whipped around you, rustling your sleeves and your thoughts and every shaky breath you couldn’t get under control.

Without thinking, you turned toward the nearest thing, an old dented metal trash can by the wall and kicked it as hard as you could.

And then—

“...Woah, woah, woah, you okay?”

Your body froze mid-breath. Your heart stopped, then slammed against your ribs with dizzying force.

Slowly, you turned.

And there he was.

Jungwon.

Standing in the doorway like he’d just stumbled into the middle of your breakdown. His hand still rested on the handle, backpack slung over one shoulder, eyes wide. He looked caught, unsure, surprised. Like he wasn’t sure if he should take a step closer or stay exactly where he was.

Your eyes locked.

Neither of you moved.

Your hands hung at your sides, fingers twitching with adrenaline. His brows were slightly furrowed, like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how. 

And something inside you snapped.

Your feet hit the ground hard as you ran toward him, closing the distance in seconds. His eyes widened again, but he didn’t move. He didn’t flinch.

You reached up, grabbing the front of his hoodie with both hands and pulled him down to you. Your breath was uneven. His eyes searched yours for only a second before you leaned in, closing the space, and kissed him.

Then he kissed you back.

His hands came up one finding your waist, the other cupping the side of your face, his thumb brushing just beneath your jaw. His grip was gentle, but grounding. Like he’d been holding back for far too long. Like this was the thing that had been waiting between you for weeks, quietly demanding to be acknowledged.

“Damn,” he said. “So you like me.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him.

“What?”

His lips curved.

Your face twisted in mock offense, eyes narrowing as you pulled back slightly to look at him properly. “Oh, you wanna play that game?”

His grin widened, cocky and boyish.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve had a crush on me even before I did,” you said, crossing your arms even as your smile betrayed you.

Jungwon blinked, deadpan. “You’re not wrong.”

His expression contorted for half a second, like admitting it physically hurt, then melted into something a little sheepish, a little too real.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face.

“Obvious to who, exactly?”

He exhaled like it was the most dramatic moment of his life. “Who do you think I’ve been venting to about you for the past month?”

You paused.

Your smile faded into something wary. “Wait. Who?”

He looked at you.

You blinked, slowly putting two and two together.

Then your eyes widened in horror.

“No. No way.”

“She’s the only one who listened without judging me!”

“You’ve been telling my mom?! About your feelings?! For me?!”

And then it all made sense.

-

It was the night before.

Your mom was finishing up some dishes in the kitchen, and you’d just excused yourself to the bathroom, disappearing down the hallway.

Jungwon stayed where he was, sitting politely on the couch in the living room, hands clasped, trying not to look too out of place in a home that had started to feel painfully too familiar. He glanced toward the hallway once, then back at the TV that was playing some cooking show on mute. He didn’t expect your mom to come sit next to him.

But she did.

Not with her usual teasing smile or nosy aunt energy, this time, it was softer. Almost… concerned.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked suddenly, her voice gentle. “When I brought Heeseung up earlier?”

Jungwon blinked. “What?”

She smiled kindly, her eyes scanning his face. “You got quiet. I didn’t mean to make things awkward.”

“Oh. No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “No! Never. I just… it wasn’t that.”

She looked at him knowingly. “You know… it doesn’t take a scientist to figure out that you like my daughter.”

Jungwon let out a quiet groan, dropping his face into his hands. “Is it that obvious?”

“Very,” she said with a laugh. “But the good thing is…my daughter is completely oblivious.”

He exhaled a helpless little laugh, dragging his hands down his face. “I don’t know how to make it more obvious if I tried, Auntie. I swear, I’ve done everything short of confessing.”

“Telling her  wouldn’t kill you,” she teased, nudging his arm. 

He gave her a small, sheepish smile. “I just… I figured she’s still got feelings for Heeseung.”

Your mom shook her head, eyes twinkling like she’d been waiting for this exact moment. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

“Am I?”

She turned toward him fully, folding her arms, her voice more certain now. “Do you really think I don’t know my own daughter? I’ve seen her with her friends. She’s never been like this with anyone.”

Jungwon raised his eyebrows slightly. “Like what?”

“Comfortable. Herself. She looks at you like you’re the only person in the world,” she said, matter-of-fact. “She lets her walls down around you. You don’t know how rare that is.”

Jungwon blinked. His throat tightened a little.

“And let me ask you something,” she said, leaning in like she was telling a secret. “Do you really think she wakes up at five in the morning to go grocery shopping with me just for fun?”

He frowned. “What?”

Your mom grinned. “She goes with me just to pick up ingredients for your favorite dishes and she prioritizes sleep more than anything in this world.”

“She does?”

“Every time you come over. You think it’s a coincidence we always happen to have your favorites? No, Jungwon. She picks them out.”

Jungwon stared at her, completely still.

“Oh.”

Your mom reached over and patted his hand gently, smiling. “You’re in deeper than you think, sweetheart.”

-

“Remember that day at your place… when I stayed for dinner the first time?”

You opened your eyes, looking up at him. “Yeah?”

“She told me,” Jungwon went on, his eyes crinkling, “that you wake up early to go grocery shopping with her before school. Just so you could cook the things I like for dinner.”

You blinked. Heat rushed to your cheeks.

“Honestly, I was still trying to figure out how to tell you I liked you,” he said, laughing softly, “while your mom was out here practically planning our wedding.”

Your mouth fell open slightly, words stuck in your throat.

He looked down at you. His gaze was steady, open, entirely unreadable in the way that meant it was everything all at once. “I’ve liked you since the beginning,” he said quietly, and this time he didn’t laugh. “Even when you said you hated me. Even when you swore you’d never like me back.”

“Wait,” you said slowly, voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve been crushing on me… this whole time?”

Jungwon tilted his head.

“Since the spelling bee,” he said, laughing.

You choked. “Fourth grade?!”

“Friendship,” he mimicked, grinning like the devil himself. “F–R–E–N–D–S–H–I–P.”

“You’re evil,” you said flatly, staring at him like you were trying to set him on fire with your mind.

“While we’re reminiscing,” Jungwon said, his voice tilting cocky again. “I guess I did end up taking your first kiss after all.”

You blinked.

And suddenly, the rooftop wasn’t cold anymore.

Your mind flashed back, months ago, during that stupid party, during that even stupider game of spin the bottle. You remembered the way the bottle had landed on you. The way he’d chuckled. The way he’d leaned in only to pause, shake his head, and say, “I can’t take her first kiss like this.” 

Now, you looked at him again. Really looked.

“You could’ve just done it then,” you said, softer now. “Gotten it over with.”

He shrugged, almost shy. “Felt like it’d be unfair if your first kiss happened in some stupid spin-the-bottle game. In front of all those idiots.”

You searched his face, your voice barely above a whisper. “How are you so sure that was my first kiss?”

“Because,” he said quietly, “I knew you’d be mine.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Oh, come on,” he said, laughing softly. “You really think I’ve kissed someone?”

“Uh—yeah?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Do I look like I kiss random people at parties?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. He looked at you, all teasing faded now.

“I was saving it,” he said simply, like it wasn’t the most heart-stopping thing he’d ever confessed. “For someone special.”

And suddenly you weren’t breathing.

He looked back at you like it was obvious. 

You reached for his hoodie again, your fingers twisting into the fabric without even thinking. “You’re an idiot,” you whispered.

His eyes crinkled, you tugged on the strings of his hoodie. Pulled him closer. Close enough to see the flutter in his lashes. Close enough that his breath hitched when your noses brushed.

And then you kissed him again.

His arms tightened around your waist immediately, pulling you in, deeper this time. It was slow and certain and everything that had been waiting between you for weeks—months, really. The rooftop wind curled around the two of you, but it didn’t matter. He was warm.

And then—

“Are you kidding me?! You two again?!”

You froze.

Jungwon jerked back so fast you almost stumbled.

You turned slowly, lips still tingling, and there he was—again.

The same security guard from the last time. Hands on his hips. Brow raised.

“Now I know for sure you’re kissing,” he said, squinting at both of you. “Don’t even try that hug excuse again.”

“We weren’t—” you started.

“It was windy,” Jungwon said quickly, brushing his hair out of his face. “And she almost fell—”

“Into your mouth?” the guard snapped.

You opened your mouth. Closed it.

Jungwon cleared his throat.

“Uh. We’re dating,” he finally said, sheepish, a little proud. “Officially. So.”

The guard narrowed his eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Congratulations. Now get off the rooftop before I call your principal.”

“Yes, sir,” you both muttered in unison, scrambling for your bags.

As you walked down the stairs side by side, shoulder bumping into his, you could feel your face burning. But when you looked up at Jungwon, he was smiling like it had all been worth it.

“We should’ve made out in the library,” he whispered.

“You’re the worst,” you muttered, shoving him lightly.

[wonnienyang]

˖*°࿐ •*⁀➷ 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧!

➜ summary: you just moved into a new building, right across from three loud guys. two said sorry and the third couldn’t care less.

pairing: pshx f!reader,wc: 14k words , genre: enemies to lovers ish, neighbor!au, fluff, romcom w: rude jokes, cussing, kissing

The elevator doors swung open, and soon you stepped out into the third floor hallway. You looked like you were moving in, which in your defense…you were. The oversized hoodie slipping off one shoulder, arms hugging a stack of takeout containers and a cactus you had that had pricked you far too many times, but that didn’t matter. You were finally on your own.

Unit 3B. That was you now. 

Your keys jingled in your palm as you found the door, nudged it open with one knee, and stepped into the apartment you’d stared at for months on rental listings. It wasn’t huge, but it had a little kitchen with enough space for your mum’s rice cooker, and a balcony that caught the sun in the morning. You spun around in the centre of the room, grinning, almost knocking the cactus you had just placed on the counter in the process.

And by nightfall, the place felt like yours. Your fairy lights were strung up across your living room. Your fridge held exactly a bottle of soda, some tuna you had eaten an hour ago and a bag of unwashed grapes. You lit a vanilla candle, the one your best friend, Jungwon, made you promise to use so you'd remember him… even while being so far apart.  But Jungwon hated travelling, so in his mind, you'd basically moved to another continent. 

Jungwon dramatically declared, “You’re practically moving to another country.”

“Jungwon, I’m literally a two-hour train ride away.”

“That’s basically Europe.”

You rolled your eyes at the memory, smiling to yourself.

Still, you were glad you’d made the decision to move. Three years ahead of you… of being on your own, of learning to be independent, part-time jobs, and what you hoped…a future incoming relationship. It should be easy. It should be peaceful. It should be—

“DUDE!!!”

A scream ripped through your wall.

It came from the wall to your right, a thin wall nudged between you and your neighbours. You could hear celebrations. A voice shouted, “THAT WAS INSANE!” followed by a loud thump like someone had jumped off the sofa.

You tried ignoring it at first, burying yourself under the blanket like it could block out noise. But 20 minutes in, another screamed “HE’S OFFSIDE, YOU DUMB—” loud enough to rattle the walls, you snapped.

You threw on your hoodie, jammed your feet into slippers, and marched out the front door like you were storming a battlefield. The hallway was dim and quiet, except for the muffled party behind door 3C. You knocked, hard, but polite.

The door creaked open mid-laughter, revealing three guys mid-snack, mid-game.

“Hi,” you said, tight smile. “Sorry to bother you, but… would you mind keeping it down a little? I’ve got a test tomorrow and it’s kinda hard to focus with all the screaming.”

The one with fluffy hair, cute little eyes, nodded immediately. “Shit. Sorry, sorry. Totally our bad.”

Another one, long lashes and a goofy smile, actually winced. “Didn’t realise it was that loud. We’ll keep it down, promise.”

“Are you new here?” the first one asked.

You nodded. “I just moved in today, actually.”

“Oh shit. Mrs Kim moved out?”

“Damn, we’re not getting her kimchi anymore, that’s for sure.”

“We gotta eat those store-bought ones that taste like ass.”

The second boy looked at you again, more focused this time. “Oh right! I’m Jake! It���s great to meet you! I’m sorry it happened under… unfortunate circumstances. But we’ll be quieter!”

“I’m Jay, by the way,” the first one added with a small grin, pushing his hair back.

You nodded, smiling slightly. At least they were nice about it. Well, two out of three, anyway.

You glanced past both of them, eyes landing on the third boy slouched on the couch, still holding the controller, gaze fixed on the paused screen like you weren’t even there. His jaw clenched once. No name. No hello. Just a subtle, annoyed glance in your direction before he looked away again.

Cool. So he hates you. That’s cool with you.

The third guy didn’t say anything. Just glanced at you once, then turned back toward the TV.

“Uh, thanks,” you said, lips tight, already backing away.

You returned to your apartment and for a blessed thirty minutes, it was quiet.

Then someone scored a goal and the wall shook again.

You blinked slowly at your ceiling, arms folded under your head like the weight of your patience was finally starting to crush your ribs. Okay. So that’s how it was going to be. You frowned.

And that was literally… how war started.

The next morning, fuelled by petty vengeance and two hours of sleep, you grabbed your pastel pink sticky notes and wrote:

“Dear 3C, I’ve played FIFA before. It is not that damn fun for you to be out here screaming. Please tone it down. Regards, the zombie in 3B.”

You slapped it on their door. Nothing changed.

And the next day:

“Dear 3C, I can’t sleep. Kindly shut up <3 With love, the girl one more sleepless night away from writing to the landlord. 3B.”

You half expected them to ignore it. Instead, you found your note missing by mid-afternoon. Gone. 

For a moment, you felt powerful. Maybe they’d actually listened.

Then 8:43 p.m. hit and someone in 3C scored a goal so loud you swore the bass from their TV made your candle flicker.

Alright. So it was personal now.

You stormed over to their door again, hands on your hips.. It wasn’t that late. You weren’t unreasonable. You believed in joy. In freedom. But right now? Rage was the only thing pumping through your system.

You shuffled down the hall with your bunny slippers slapping against the floor, hair in a claw clip that was giving up. You looked deranged. And for the first time, you were fine with that. You banged on their door.

The door cracked open a second later, revealing Jake blinking like a deer in headlights. His hair was messy. He looked mildly afraid.

“Were… we being loud again?”

You stared at him, deadpan. “Ya think?”

Jake rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, okay. I’m so sorry. It’s Sunghoon. He keeps saying it’s not that loud and we were mid-tournament and—”

“Tell Sunghoon that his ego’s not the only thing echoing through these walls,” you snapped, arms crossed. “Some of us are trying to study.”

Behind Jake, you heard a familiar scoff followed by a smug voice yelling, “God, she’s so annoying. We were literally whispering.”

You leaned to the side, locking eyes with the third boy slouched on the couch, controller in hand, feet on the coffee table like the world owed him something. He didn’t even pause the game this time.

You didn’t know what it was about his stupidly symmetrical face but your blood boiled.

“Tell this Sunghoon guy…his whispering sounds like a screeching cat,” you said flatly, before spinning on your heel and marching back toward your door when you heard his aggravating voice.

“Tell her she’s overreacting over a couple of friends simply trying to have fun,” Sunghoon fired back from the couch, not even raising his voice. 

You turned your head just enough to glare over your shoulder. “Well, tell him, his shirt doesn’t match his fucking pants.”

Jake looked helpless, standing between you both like a middle child caught in a divorce.

And then, with that same bored tone, Sunghoon called out again, “Well, tell her… those slippers are the best thing she’s worn all week.”

You stopped.

Jake sucked in a breath.

You slowly turned, eyes narrowing. “Tell him he wouldn’t know good fashion if it came with a user manual and punched him in his freaking face.”

Sunghoon finally glanced away from the TV, meeting your eyes for the first time that night. His lips curved into the most irritating half-smile you’d ever seen.

“Tell her–”

Jake stepped in between again, hands raised. “Okay! Okay. We’re gonna turn the volume down. Like, way down. Like you can’t even hear us tiptoe. Right, Sunghoon?”

Sunghoon leaned back against the couch and shrugged. “Whatever. I’m not the one annoying my neighbors at 9pm on a Friday night. Get some friends.” 

You slammed your door shut.

War was back on.

-

The next morning, your plan was simple. A little petty, sure, but necessary.

You stood outside their door in your pyjamas, holding a fresh pack of neon yellow Post-its since your previous ones were used up by the ongoing Post-It war.The hallway was empty. Your bunny slippers made no sound as you padded up to 3C and stuck the first one of the week dead-centre on the door.

“Dear 3C, just a gentle reminder that FIFA will not feed you, clothe you, or give you money. Kindly shut up. PLEASE. Warmest regards, 3B.”

You smiled to yourself and floated back to your apartment.

That night? For the first time…? Silence. Beautiful, blissful silence. You actually managed to revise two chapters and fall asleep before midnight. You woke up in the morning feeling like a changed woman.

But then you opened your front door.

There, taped neatly to your door, was a blue sticky note with surprisingly neat handwriting.

“Dear 3B, you sound like you narrate your life out loud. – 3C.”

Your jaw dropped.

“Narrate your life out loud?” you muttered. “That’s literally called thinking.”

You marched back into your apartment, flung open your stationery drawer.

“Dear 3C, apologies if my internal monologue disrupted your daily FIFA championship. I only talk to myself because your volume settings make it impossible to hear my own thoughts. With all due respect (and ear damage), 3B."

That afternoon, Jay knocked on your door. You hesitated, then opened it a crack. He was holding a bag of convenience store pancakes in one hand.

“Peace offering,” he said. “Also, I think your notes are hilarious. Jake’s been collecting them. I think he’s making a scrapbook.”

You blinked. “Is this a joke or something?”

Jay shrugged, leaning casually against the doorframe. “No! Honestly, it’s kinda refreshing.”

Jake popped his head in from behind, grinning. “Also, your handwriting’s really neat.”

You opened the door a little wider, cautious then shrugged. “You want some… uh… spaghetti? I made it this morning.”

“Spaghetti?” Jay tilted his head.

You nodded. “Yeah. I usually experiment with food. I’m…uh…in culinary school.”

Jake’s eyes widened. “Wait, so you’re like… a chef?”

“Trying to be.,” you said with a shrug, suddenly a little self-conscious.

They exchanged a quick look before barging in like you'd personally handed them invites at the door.

“That’s so cool,” Jake said, practically bouncing as he flopped onto your beanbag. “I burnt instant noodles last week. Twice.”

Jay wandered deeper into your living room, his gaze landing on the dusty old guitar leaning against your bookshelf. “Dude, check it out! She plays the guitar.”

You rubbed the back of your neck, awkward. “It’s just for fun. I’m not that good.”

“I’m sure you’re great,” Jake said, already chewing through a mouthful of spaghetti he’d somehow found, and served himself in a bowl you didn’t remember offering.

You blinked at him. “Did you just—?”

“Plate was right there,” he said through a mouthful. “I took it as a sign.”

Jay nodded solemnly. “She feeds us and plays guitar. She’s better than Mrs. Kim already.”

You sighed and closed the door behind them. “I’m starting to think Mrs. Kim left because of the three of you.”

In between bites, Jake nodded without hesitation. “I think so too.”

“We can be loud,” Jay added, helping himself to another serving.

“Have you thought of… not being loud?”

“We do,” Jay said. “But then we get loud again.”

You rolled your eyes. “Guys, some of us have school and—”

“We have school too,” Jake chimed in, mouth full.

“Okay… some of us care about sleep.”

Jay perked up. “That’s why we got you this.”

He dug into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a tiny box, dropping it into your hands.

You squinted at it. “What’s this?”

“They’re sleep buds,” he said proudly. “They go in your ears and play white noise and, like… ocean sounds or something. Blocks everything out. Even us.”

You stared at the box, then at them.

“Instead of compromising, you got me gear?”

Jake grinned. “Yeah. We like you. We want you to be able to sleep… through us.”

Jay gave you a thumbs-up. “It’s called adaptation.”

You looked down at the sleep buds in your hands and then back up at the two of them absolutely inhaling your spaghetti like they hadn’t eaten in weeks.

You didn’t know whether to kick them out or thank them.

So you just sighed, defeated. “You guys are the weirdest neighbours I’ve ever had.”

Jake beamed. “Aww. You’re the weirdest too.”

And somehow… the next day… they were back.

You opened the door mid-knock, confused, only to find Jay grinning at you.

“What’s for lunch today, boss?” he asked, already halfway through the doorway.

You blinked. “How’d you know I made something?”

“We could smell it,” Jake said, stepping in right behind him, holding up a comically large spoon. “Smells so good. Brought my big spoon today. Came prepared.”

“Uh… I made chowder?”

Jake’s eyes lit up. “Oh my god, I love chowder.”

Jay had already plopped onto the floor cushion, flipping through your Spotify like he owned your iPad. “What kind? Clam? Corn? Pumpkin? Wait… do people put pumpkin in chowder?”

You stared at them, ladle in hand.

“Corn,” you muttered, shuffling back into the kitchen.

Then the day after that… they came again. At this point, it felt less like a surprise and more like a recurring appointment.

“No fucking way. Kimchi stew? This shit is so good!. Jay, you need to try the beef. It’s so soft. How— how’d you get it so soft? Is this like one of those expensive beef? Wakoo?”

“It’s Wagyu, Jake.” You corrected.

“Wagyu~” He sang.

Jay, already mid-bite, nodded with a full mouth. “Can I havefth thefth reshepee?”

You wiped your hands on a dish towel, leaning against the counter with one brow raised. “Do you guys ever eat in your own apartment?”

Jake didn’t miss a beat. “Not when you cook like this.”

Jay pointed his chopsticks at you like he was making a closing argument in court. “This is technically your fault. You fed us once. That’s basically a binding contract. We’re best friends now. Aren’t we, Jake?”

Jake nodded, mouth full. “Mhmff. Whatever he said.”

You sighed, setting your elbow on the table and dropping your chin into your hand. “If you’re gonna keep doing this, at least wash the dishes after.”

Jake saluted you with his spoon like you were the captain of a very tiny, soup-based army. “Yes, chef.”

You looked at the two of them, one already on his third helping, the other stealing more beef straight from the pot, and shook your head.

This wasn’t how your independent, put-together, college life was supposed to go. You were meant to be focused. The mysterious girl on the third floor who only ever came out for groceries and exams.

But maybe… with the two of them barging in uninvited, eating like they hadn’t seen food in years, and treating your living room like it was theirs…

Maybe you wouldn’t feel so lonely after all.

-

It was 9 p.m. Strangely quiet.

Usually, by now, there’d be at least one goal celebration shaking the walls or someone shouting about a missed penalty. But tonight? Nothing. You didn’t let it bother you. You took it as a win.

The balcony door slid open with a soft scrape. You stepped out into the cool night, cradling your little scissors and spray bottle like sacred tools. Your succulents were arranged in a neat line. A few leaves had started to curl. You knelt down, snipping the dead ends carefully.

You should’ve felt peaceful.

But tonight, something tugged at your chest. 

You missed Jungwon. You missed your mom’s mismatched cutlery and the way your dad always forgot he’d already asked about your grades. Maybe even your pet fish, the one that never did much except float around looking confused.

Jay and Jake were friendly, sure. But they weren’t yours. They weren��t part of your before. They didn’t know the town you came from or the versions of you that existed before now.

And even though you thought you’d settled in... even though you were coping...you were lonely.

Without meaning to, you started speaking out loud — just like you always did.

“It’s fine. You’ll do better tomorrow. Tomorrow you won’t feel as lonely,” you said softly as you misted the leaves. “You’ll be stronger. You’re gonna get used to this. You can do it.”

But the lie caught in your throat.

Because you were crying already.

You wiped your cheek with the sleeve of your hoodie, frustrated, betrayed by your own body. You reached for your phone without thinking and hit the contact you swore you wouldn’t keep calling every time you got overwhelmed.

Jungwon answered on the first ring.

“What’s up?” he asked, casual as ever.

“Won…” you breathed out.

There was a pause. Then: “Are you crying?”

“No?”

“I can hear you sniffling, you shit.”

“It’s just—” your voice cracked. “It’s hard. I’m alone all the time. I’ve got no friends. I’ve got no one to talk to. I’m alone, Won.”

“I know,” he said gently. “I know…”

There was a pause. You could hear him shifting in bed, his voice soft and serious now. “But think about it this way, okay? You’re barely in your first month. You’re gonna get used to it. You’re gonna find people. You’re gonna build something here. It just takes time.”

You bit your lip. “You’ll visit if you can, right?”

“I’ll visit,” he promised. “Even if it takes two bloody hours.”

“But you hate traveling.”

“For you, I’d suffer.”

You sniffled. “You’re just saying that so I’ll hang up.”

“You’re right because I’m exhausted from basketball. But also… I love you.”

“Fine,” you mumbled. “I love you too.”

“Chin up. You’re talented and you deserve to be there. You can do this. We’re all counting on you.”

“I know.” You exhaled slowly. “Goodnight, Wonnie.”

“Night.”

You ended the call and sat in silence for a moment, letting the cool night air settle on your skin. The tears had stopped. Your hands still smelled like mint and basil and the faint sweetness of the spray bottle. You stared at your succulents, wondering if they ever got lonely too.

Unbeknownst to you, just a few feet away, out on the connected balcony, hidden by the divider, someone had heard everything.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He’d stepped out earlier, just needing air, needing quiet, needing to be somewhere still for once. And then he’d heard your voice. The words that were not meant for anyone else.

And for the first time, Sunghoon didn’t roll his eyes or make a sarcastic comment.

He just stood there in the dark, one hand gripping the railing, heart a little heavier than before.

He understood more than you thought.

And somewhere between your tears and Jungwon’s voice, he changed his mind about you.

-

The next few days, there was absolute silence. Maybe the food had finally worked some psychological warfare on Jay and Jake. Maybe it was their way of returning the favour. Either way, you weren’t about to question it.

You were grateful, to say the least.

Because for the past week, you’d been moping around your apartment. Living alone and striking out as an “independent bachelorette” sounded empowering in theory, but in practice? Maybe you weren’t one of those girlies after all…y’know the ones on Instagram who made solitude look like a season of self-discovery instead of a series of breakdowns.

It was Saturday. You’d spent the entire morning in bed watching a Netflix documentary about some guy swindling people on Tinder, surrounded by crumpled tissue and scented candle smoke that had long turned suffocating. You were still in yesterday’s hoodie, blanket tangled around your legs.

Three knocks echoed at the door.

You lifted your head from the pillow with a groan, barely alive. The sound came again.

Dragging yourself across the living room, you cracked the door open just a sliver, just wide enough to peek through but not enough to reveal the disaster that was your face, your hair, or your pride.

“Uh.” The voice was hesitant. Familiar.

You squinted.

Sunghoon.

You blinked. “What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice hoarse from crying and a full night of narrating your own spiral.

“There was a mix-up with the mail,” he said, holding up a small stack of envelopes.

“Oh.” You extended your arm awkwardly through the tiny gap in the door and grabbed the letters. “Thanks.”

There was a pause, “I can see your puffy eyes through the gap.”

You scoffed, immediately pulling the door closer. “You just have to be a smartass about everything, don’t you?”

He shrugged, completely unbothered, hands in the pockets of his hoodie. Still standing there. 

“…Are Jake and Jay home?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

His expression twitched, almost amused. “Why? Trying to steal my best friends again or—”

“No,” you deadpanned. “I was just wondering. It’s been… quiet this whole week.”

“They went home to visit their families.”

Oh. Right. Come to think of it, maybe that explained why everything felt extra heavy lately. It was the time of year people usually went home. People surrounded themselves with comfort and familiarity. And here you were, stuck in the city because the train ticket home was just slightly out of budget.

“You didn’t go?” you asked softly.

“Can’t,” he shrugged.

“Oh.”

There was a beat of silence. Then he tilted his head.

“Well,” Sunghoon said slowly, “if you ever need someone to emotionally rejuvenate you by pointing out your hair looks like a rat’s nest, you know where to find me.”

The words came with the usual venom but the message behind them landed differently.

You stared at him through the gap in the door. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to be funny, or… sincere, in his own weird, backhanded way. It was strange. You’d only had  three full conversations with the guy. And every single one ended in a WWE tournament.

You narrowed your eyes slightly. “Are you… being nice to me?”

He clicked his tongue. “Don’t ruin it.”

And with that, he turned and walked back.

-

You finally got up.

There was no movie-worthy breakthrough moment. Just the dull ache in your head from crying too much and the feeling that if you shed one more tear, your eyeballs might actually eject themselves from their sockets. So you moved. You stripped your bed, tossed the mountain of tissues into a trash bag, sprayed half a bottle of disinfectant in the air, and opened every window.

Your apartment looked like it had survived an apocalypse, which, to be fair, was accurate. But you scrubbed it back to life.

By the time you were in the kitchen, your eyes were still a little swollen, but you’d pressed them with cool spoons and a sad little compress until you could see straight again. Kind of.

You pulled out ingredients from your fridge one by one, lining them up like you were preparing for war. Slicing, boiling, julienning, stir-frying. The sound of the pan crackling beneath the glass noodles filled the silence of your apartment. It smelled exactly like it did when your mom used to make it.

You plated it in a wide, shallow bowl. It was delicious. Of course it was. You took pride in it. You always had. Jungwon used to tease you, calling your hands “blessed by Gordon Ramsay” like everything you touched turned into comfort food. You’d swat his arm, trying not to smile as he reached for second helpings before you’d even sat down.

You missed him. You missed your family. You missed not having to eat alone on a day like this.

Your eyes drifted to the door.

Would it be stupid? To bring food to Sunghoon? You’d never really done anything kind for him. Most of your interactions were lined with sarcasm and insults. And yet… that one line of his kept replaying in your head, “If you ever need someone to emotionally rejuvenate you by pointing out your hair looks like a rat’s nest, you know where to find me.”

So maybe…maybe he meant it. Or maybe you were just desperate for company and your noodles were starting to get cold.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you packed the noodles into a clean container, wrapped a rubber band around it, and found yourself standing in front of 3C. Your feet had walked you here without permission. Your hand hovered in the air, ready to knock, but now… you hesitated. You weren’t here to complain. You weren’t here to yell. And that made it harder.

And just before your knuckles could land on the door, it swung open.

Sunghoon stood in front of you, coat already on, scarf looped lazily around his neck. There was a little shine to his hair like he’d styled it, and he looked surprised, mildly confused to find you on his doorstep without any anger evident in your eyes.

“What?” he said, voice dry.

You blinked, staring at him. You’d never really looked at him properly before. Not when he was this put-together. The gel in his hair, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his scarf sat slightly off-center like he’d thrown it on in a rush. You knew he was attractive. You weren’t blind. But seeing him now?

Sunghoon was actually… pretty handsome.

“I—uh—” you stammered.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Spit it out.”

“I—uh—I made some… stir-fried glass noodles,” you said, stumbling over every syllable. “And I know how much it sucks being alone on a day like this, so I thought… maybe it’d bring you some kind of familiarity. From home, or something.”

You didn’t let yourself overthink it. You shoved the container into his hands, heart pounding.

“Bye,” you mumbled, before immediately turning around and marching back to your apartment like you’d just robbed a bank. The door clicked shut behind you.

You pressed your back to it, eyes wide.

Shit.

Was Sunghoon actually hot?

-

Sunghoon stood in the hallway, unmoving. The container in his hands was warm and he stared down at it for a couple of seconds longer than he probably should’ve.

Jake and Jay had been raving about your cooking for weeks. At first, he thought they were exaggerating. How good could someone’s food be that it made two of the loudest people he knew voluntarily whisper through a FIFA match?

But he’d seen it with his own eyes, Jake silently fist-pumping the air, mouthing “LET’S FUCKING GO” after a goal, and Jay barely reacting as he scored. They even created a rule: first one to speak puts a dollar in the Silence Jar. A literal jar. With money.

Sunghoon didn’t get it.

And he didn’t particularly care to. Not then.

But now, standing in the hallway in his coat and scarf, staring at the gift you shoved into his hands with flushed cheeks, something felt different.

He had been on his way out, actually. There was a bar nearby, nothing special, just a dim-lit spot with quiet music and decent food where no one bothered him. He usually went there whenever Jay and Jake went back home, like they did this time every year. It wasn’t that he didn’t have family—he did. It just wasn’t… warm. They were always busy. Always somewhere else, even when they were in the same room.

He peeled off his scarf, feet dragging a little as he headed back into the apartment, the door clicking shut behind him. He set the container on the kitchen counter, grabbed a pair of chopsticks from the drawer, and opened the lid.

Steam wafted up instantly, sesame oil, soy sauce, garlic, something subtly sweet he couldn’t name. The noodles glistened. They looked homemade. No, they felt homemade.

He picked up a strand and gave it a tentative taste.

His eyes widened before he could even help it.

It was good. Like stupid good. Like how the hell is this girl not running her own restaurant kind of good. Better than anything he would’ve paid for at that bar tonight.

He stood there in silence, chopsticks hovering mid-air, thinking back.

He wasn’t proud of how he’d treated you. Three encounters, three arguments. He remembered each one too clearly. The snark in his voice. The way your expression hardened. The notes on the door. 

But it wasn’t really about you.

He hated being called out. Hated being the problem. Maybe it was ego, or maybe it was the way he’d always felt like he had to be put-together or to say the least…controlled. Your presence threw him off. You were loud in a way that was sincere. You didn’t filter your emotions. You wore your annoyance on your sleeve and your feelings on your face.

It irritated him. It also… made him feel something.

And then there was that night on the balcony.

He hadn’t meant to listen. But when he heard your voice cracking through the divider, talking to someone…maybe it was your boyfriend? Your best friend? Whoever it was about how lonely you were, it hit him harder than it should’ve.

Because he got it.

He felt it too.

Being alone in a crowd. Having people around but never really with you. That weight in your chest that didn’t come from sadness exactly…just the absence of warmth.

Sunghoon felt it more often than he cared to admit. He loved Jake and Jay, loved them to pieces. They were the kind of people who filled a room with noise and an energy he couldn’t really place and who made him laugh even when he didn’t want to.

He wanted something more. Something real.

Someone who just… saw him.

He sat at his kitchen counter, staring at the container of glass noodles still warm with steam curling from the lid. He wasn’t usually impulsive. He didn’t do gestures. But maybe tonight called for something a little uncharacteristic.

He stood and reached up, opening the top cupboard where Jake and Jay kept what they called their “emergency date plates.”. The kind of plates you used to impress someone. They only ever brought them out when trying to convince girls they were not, in fact, living in a borderline condemned apartment flat.

He grabbed two.

And then, before he could second guess it, he walked out into the hallway and knocked. 

Your door creaked open a few seconds later.

You blinked at him, confused. “What?”

It almost felt like deja vu. Except now, he was you…awkward at the door.

And then it hit him.

He looked at you…like, really looked at you, and for the first time, he realised he’d never actually seen you before. 

You were wearing a soft pink sleeveless dress, the fabric loose and falling just above your knees, cinched slightly at the waist. Your hair was tied into a side braid, fringe swept slightly to the side, with a few delicate strands left loose to frame your face. You looked like you belonged in a pastel painting.

Shit.

Were you actually—pretty?

Nope. Nope. Stop that. Sunghoon blinked hard, trying to erase the thought.

Damn it.

You probably had a boyfriend. Someone smart and warm and emotionally available who FaceTimed you every night and wrote you good morning texts. Someone who missed you from back home.

And besides…someone who could cook like you? You could probably bag Jake and Jay at the same time in under a minute if you wanted. Not that you would. But still.

He cleared his throat.

“I, uh…” He held up the plates slightly. “I thought maybe… you could join me?”

He wasn’t good at this. But his voice was steady.

“Only if you want to,” he added, quickly. “I just figured. Y’know. Glass noodles taste better on… plates that aren’t plastic.”

His eyes met yours.

He was trying.

And this time, it was your turn to blink in disbelief.

-

Sunghoon had returned with the container of glass noodles, now a little colder, a little stickier, but still giving off the faint aroma of sesame oil and soy sauce. You’d reheated it and plated it up, slightly embarrassed that the presentation wasn’t what it had been fresh off the stove, but he didn’t seem to care. Or maybe he did, but you couldn’t tell, because for the first five minutes, you didn’t look at each other.

The clink of chopsticks, the occasional scrape of ceramic, and your ceiling fan. It was awkward. You wondered why he even came. Why he asked in the first place, if he was just going to eat in silence.

“So,” you said.

“So,” he said.

You paused.

“You first.”

“No, you—”

“Okay, I’ll go first,” he said, cutting himself off. He cleared his throat and set his chopsticks down. “I—uh—I just wanted to say thanks. For the meal.”

You blinked. “Okay.” You nodded slowly. “You’re… shockingly formal when you’re not pissed.”

“I—” Sunghoon let out a breath and leaned back a little in the chair. “I was never pissed.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, nodding, eyes narrowed. “Sure.”

“I was annoyed, sure. Who likes being called out?”

“I wasn’t trying to call you out,” you said, tilting your head. “But put yourself in my shoes. I have to wake up at stupid o’clock to learn how to make a soufflé or whatever, and meanwhile, I’m treated to surround sound yelling and the occasional ceiling vibration.”

He gave a small shrug. “Well, we haven’t done it in a while.”

“And I’m grateful,” you replied, lips twitching. “Truly.”

“We got a silence jar and everything,” he muttered, almost like he didn’t want to admit it.

Your eyebrows shot up. “A silence jar?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Jay implemented it. He said if we keep it up, we’ll have enough for extra toppings on our next pizza night.”

You burst into laughter, the sound surprising even yourself. It came out light and real, and you covered your mouth halfway through. “That’s… honestly? A decent plan.”

“It can be,” he said with a grin starting to pull at the corner of his mouth. “Until everyone starts trying to play FIFA like it’s an ASMR video.”

“You guys actually whisper?” you asked, incredulous.

“Well, yeah. You told us to.”

“I didn’t think you would listen,” you said, pointing your chopsticks at him.

Sunghoon shrugged again, his eyes dropping to the plate in front of him. “Well… they changed my mind, so.”

He didn’t say what he was really thinking.

That it wasn’t Jake or Jay who changed his mind. It was that night. The way your voice had carried through the gap in the balcony, fragile and cracking. The way you’d said I’m alone, Won like it was something that had been sitting inside you for too long, waiting to spill. He’d realised then maybe he wasn’t just an annoying neighbour to you. Maybe he was part of the problem. Maybe he’d been making things harder for someone who was already trying to hold it all together.

“So…” he said quietly, eyes on his plate, “why are you alone during the holidays anyway?”

“Couldn’t afford a train ticket,” you said eventually. “I mean—I could have, technically. But that’d mean I wouldn’t have enough money left to buy ingredients for my assignments the next few weeks.”

Sunghoon winced. “Oof. That’s rough. Must suck.”

You gave a little shrug. “Yeah. It’s fine though.”

He knew it wasn’t.

There was a pause. He glanced sideways at you.

“If you ever… feel like you need someone to talk to,” he started, voice casual, “you could just knock. I have FIFA.”

You snorted. “Oh, like I’d willingly join that mess.”

“It’s actually really fun.”

“How fun can flinging a ball across a screen with your thumbs be?”

“It is!” he defended, turning fully toward you.

You raised a brow. “I tried once with my friend and it was so boring.”

“That’s ‘cause you weren’t playing it right,” he insisted, already standing up. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

“I’m not playing FIFA with you.”

“Come onnn,” he whined, grabbing your wrist and tugging you lightly toward his door.

“God, this is gonna be so stupid,” you muttered, dragging your feet even as you followed him out.

Inside his apartment, the lights were warm, the couch sunken in like it had been through a war. You sat reluctantly, tucking your knees up as he handed you the controller.

“Alright,” he said, sliding in beside you. “This is you—Team Two. All you have to do is use the left joystick to move, the right one to look around. This button to pass, this one to shoot.”

You blinked. “So many buttons.”

“It’s easy! Just follow what I say.”

“Okay… so now I just—?” You pressed a button and immediately kicked the ball out of bounds.

“No, no—move left. Left.”

“I am moving left!”

He glanced over. Your tongue was sticking out slightly in concentration, eyes squinted, brows furrowed. He chuckled before he could stop himself, quickly looking away.

Then you screamed, “I DID IT! DID I DO IT?!”

He turned back just in time to see you score.

Sunghoon yelled, jumping up. “Yeah! That was it!”

You stared at the screen, jaw dropping. “Holy shit. I’m amazing.”

He looked at you again, this time longer. Your eyes were glowing, still locked on the TV. Your fingers tapped at the buttons like you already got it down. You bit your lip when you were focused, tongue sticking out just slightly when you were thinking.

And you were cute. So fucking cute.

The match picked up pace. Suddenly it was 2–2, and both of you were leaning in like your lives depended on it. You were yelling at the controller. He was shouting advice. At one point, your knees knocked, but neither of you noticed. The room was loud, just your voices and the music from the game and the way your laughter filled every corner of his flat.

Then it happened.

You scored. 

You screamed, controller tossed onto the couch, and before Sunghoon could register what was happening, your arms were around his neck, squeezing him tight as you jumped slightly in place.

“I WON! DID YOU SEE THAT?!”

He froze. Your cheek brushed his jaw, your warmth right up against him. His hands hovered midair like he didn’t know whether to hold you back or not.

And then you let go, plopped back onto the couch, and grabbed the controller again like nothing had happened.

Sunghoon didn’t move.

For the first time in what felt like forever, his heartbeat stuttered. Sped up like it had been woken from a long, indifferent sleep.

He sat there, silent, staring at you as you shouted at your pixelated team.

And all he could think was well that…he hadn’t planned on crushing on the new girl based on one single positive interaction.

God, he was so screwed.

-

The next few days passed in a blur of almost-conversations.

You and Sunghoon didn’t talk much. Not like that night. Just a few polite waves across the hallway, a quiet “hey” if you caught the elevator at the same time. Respectful nods. The occasional awkward glance if your eyes met for too long.

And then Jake and Jay came back.

And of course, Jake being Jake, invited himself into your apartment before you could even say no.

“I missed your cooking while I was gone,” he sighed dramatically, sinking into the dining chair like he’d returned from war.

“Well, today’s your lucky day,” you said, flipping through your assignment folder and squinting at the week’s task. “Because for today’s assignment, I’m supposed to…” you paused. “Make a really mean chicken pot pie.”

Jake’s eyes lit up. He clapped his hands, nearly tipping his chair over. “CHICKEN POT PIE?!”

Before you could even blink, he leapt up, yanked your door open, and sprinted into the hallway.

“JAY! IT’S CHICKEN POT PIE!” he yelled like it was a fire drill.

From across the hall, Jay’s voice rang out. “WHAT?! NO WAY!”

And then—another voice joined them.

A quieter one.

“Chicken pot pie?”

You didn’t even have time to react before you were suddenly hosting three grown men in your kitchen, all leaning over your counter.

“Guys,” you said, elbow-deep in flour. “I can’t focus if you’re all staring at me like that.”

“We’re just excited,” Jake grinned, chin in his hands.

“Well don’t be. I’ve never made this before. It might taste like ass.”

“Your hands are basically blessed by Gordon Ramsay,” Jay declared, grabbing a slice of carrot from the cutting board. “It’s impossible for it to taste like ass.”

You laughed, the sound soft and unexpected even to yourself. “Jungwon used to tell me that all the time.”

“Oh he did?” Jay echoed, voice teasing.

Sunghoon stood a few steps back from the others, arms crossed loosely, leaning against your fridge. He hadn’t said much since stepping into your place, but now he watched the three of you.

The way you smiled when Jay made a joke. The way Jake knew where you kept your mixing bowls. The way your eyes sparkled, just slightly, when you laughed about something from home. The way they got it. The way they knew you.

And the way he didn’t.

Sunghoon couldn’t explain it but it made his stomach twist. Tight and strange and uncomfortable.

And then he heard it again.

Jungwon.

Who the hell was Jungwon?

His name sounded too casual. Too affectionate. The kind of name you didn’t just drop without meaning.

Sunghoon didn’t say anything. He just looked down at your countertop, at the flour dusting your hands and the delicate way your fingers shaped the crust, and all he could think was—

Why the fuck did he care so much?

You moved around your kitchen with the kind of ease that made it impossible not to watch. Sunghoon’s eyes were locked on you, the way your hair swayed behind your back as you leaned forward to stir something in the pot, the way your sleeves were pushed up. 

His heart pounded harder than it should’ve. He tried to brush it off. Maybe he was just hungry. Maybe it was just the smell of garlic and butter making him lightheaded. That had to be it, right?

Except no.

He hadn’t planned on feeling like this today. Not when he woke up. Not when he brushed his teeth and went on his phone and told himself he’d stay in his apartment. He hadn’t even planned on coming over. And that night the two of you shared noodles? He’d chalked it up to vulnerability. Nighttime feelings. Nothing serious.

But now it was noon. He was awake. Sober. And you were still somehow making his chest tighten just by existing within ten feet of him.

God. He hated having a crush.

He didn’t even realise how lost he looked until Jake spoke up from the side, breaking the spell.

“So, is Jungwon finally coming?”

This guy again.

Sunghoon’s head whipped toward Jake so fast it might’ve snapped his neck.

You perked up at the mention, a smile blooming across your face without even trying. “Yeah! He’s coming in two weeks! I actually told him about you guys. He’s kinda excited to meet you.”

That smile. It wasn’t fake. It wasn’t forced. You looked like someone who meant it. Someone who missed this guy. Someone who talked to him often.

Sunghoon clenched his jaw and looked away, grabbing a water bottle off your counter just to do something with his hands. He twisted the cap a little too hard.

He didn’t know who the hell Jungwon was.

But he already didn’t like him.

“He’s coming over?” Jay asked, his mouth still half-full of pie filling.

“Yeah,” you said casually, brushing a stray hair behind your ear as you peeked into the oven. “He’s staying at my place for the week he’s here.”

Staying at your place?

Sunghoon blinked.

He looked around your apartment, eyes scanning every corner like they were going to magically reveal a hidden guest room. But there wasn’t one. You lived in a studio. Everything was in one space. Your bed, your desk, your kitchen, your couch. Except… there wasn’t even a real couch. Just a throw-covered loveseat that barely seated two.

No air mattress in sight. No hidden folding cot. No suspicious lumpy bags that might hold a spare futon.

Just one bed.

His chest tightened.

Where the hell was Jungwon gonna sleep? With you?

He picked at the label on his water bottle, teeth grinding quietly as he stared down at the floor, like it held answers. It didn’t.

He wasn’t even involved with you. This shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t bother him.

But it did. In the most uncomfortable, teeth-clenching, mind-racing kind of way.

-

You stood in front of the three boys, arms crossed, heart racing slightly under your apron. The chicken pot pie sat on the table…golden brown crust, just the right amount of bubbling over on the sides, the smell of thyme and butter and garlic filling your apartment.

Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon each took a spoonful at the same time like they’d rehearsed it. You watched them, nervous, scanning their faces.

One by one, their expressions lit up. Jake’s eyes widened, Jay let out a satisfied groan. Well… except Sunghoon. Of course.

He stayed still. Always unreadable. But you caught it. The tiny pause, the way his brows lifted just a fraction. He liked it. He just didn’t show it like the others.

“So—” Jake started.

“Good,” Jay finished, already reaching for more.

Your eyes flicked to Sunghoon. Somehow, his opinion was the one you were waiting on. The one you needed.

“So?” you asked, staring at him.

He blinked. “What?”

“How is it?”

“It’s good,” he said, nodding once, tone flat as ever.

Your smile dropped. You frowned. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

“What? I just said it’s good.”

“No, you said ‘good’ and then frowned and put your spoon down. Usually it’s ‘It’s good,’ then a second bite. Right, boys?”

Jake nodded enthusiastically, chicken still in his mouth. “She’s right.”

“Totally right,” Jay added, already helping himself to more.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, leaning back slightly. “You’re all being dramatic.”

You scoffed, insulted. “I guess you don’t want seconds then. Tch.”

You clicked your tongue and turned on your heel, storming off toward the kitchen, grumbling under your breath. Your apron fluttered behind you as you moved, and you didn’t look back.

Sunghoon watched your little pout, the way your shoulders stiffened, how you exaggerated every step. He didn’t know why, but he liked your reaction. No, he loved it. He found it ridiculously cute. Too cute, actually. That slight wrinkle in your forehead. The way your voice got higher when you were mad. The tiny stomp in your step.

The moment your back turned, his lips twitched upward. 

When lunch ended and the three of them stood by your front door, Jake and Jay turned to hug you dramatically.

“Never move out,” Jake said into your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re just saying that because you get free food.”

“And precisely why we don’t want you to move out,” Jay replied, squeezing you once more before the two of them shuffled out, bickering as they made their way into their apartment across the hall.

Sunghoon lingered. Just behind you.

You turned, raising a brow. “Aren’t you leaving?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” He stepped back slowly, hands in his pockets, gaze flicking to the floor before settling back on you. Then he paused. Like he wasn’t sure if he should say what he was about to say.

“The chicken pot pie was good. I think…” he exhaled, voice quieter, “I think it was one of the best things I’ve ever had.”

You blinked, caught off guard.

“It reminded me of home,” he added, eyes still on you now, a little softer than usual. “Not in the way where it’s about the taste or anything… it’s just… you cook like home. If that makes any sense.”

You hadn’t expected that.

Your cheeks flushed immediately. You turned away before he could see it, pretending to fiddle with a dish on the counter, fingers uselessly adjusting an already-clean plate.

“Thank you,” you murmured, voice low, almost shy.

He lingered for a second longer like he wanted to say more. Then he gave a quiet nod and walked out the door.

-

It was raining.

It was only 4 p.m., but the sky had turned an eerie charcoal grey, clouds rolling thick above the city. Thunder cracked so loud you felt it in your chest, and the wind howled between the buildings, slamming against your windows.

You hated this.

You hated how much you still feared storms even at your age. How useless independence felt when you were stuffing tissues in your ears and jamming earmuffs over your head like you were five again. You turned on every single light in your apartment, lamps, fairy lights, even your microwave light and cocooned yourself under your thickest blanket, barely breathing, eyes wide.

Then the whole building shuddered.

The lights flickered.

And then everything went dark.

You screamed.

Your apartment disappeared into a blanket of pitch black, shadows curling up the walls like ink. Your heart pounded. You scrambled up from the couch, tearing off your earmuffs and patting the walls with shaky hands, trying to find a light switch like that would fix anything.

“Shit,” you whispered, voice trembling. “Shit shit shit.”

You fumbled for your phone. A message popped up from your landlord.

“The building is experiencing a temporary blackout due to the storm. Electricity should resume in an hour. Thank you for your patience.”

An hour? Alone? In this? In the dark? Absolutely fucking not.

You jumped at another violent crack of thunder and instantly rushed out into the hallway. Your blanket trailed behind you like a cape. You beelined for the only door you knew.

You knocked. The door swung open almost immediately.

“No time to explain but I’m shitting bricks here,” you said all at once.

It wasn’t Jake or Jay.

It was Sunghoon.

His brows raised. “The thunderstorm?”

You nodded frantically. “Are Jake or Jay here?”

“They’re asleep.” He glanced behind him, then back at you. “But I could… stay with you. If you want. Until it passes.”

You hesitated.

Then thunder cracked again, louder this time, right above your building.

You flinched. “Okay,” you breathed, defeated.

The two of you sat cross-legged on your couch, sharing a single candle as your only source of light. It flickered between you, casting long, warm shadows on the walls.

“Seems like you’re scared of the thunder,” he said gently.

“Well,” you sighed, voice tight. “I’ve been scared of it since I was younger. It just… gets to me.”

He nodded. “It’s okay.”

You noticed it then…the subtle tremble in his shoulders. He was shivering. From the cold, probably. Your heater wasn’t working without electricity, and the apartment was steadily turning into a fridge. You were wrapped up like a burrito, but he’d come in without anything but a hoodie.

Feeling guilty, you shifted toward him and lifted one side of your blanket.

“Uh…” he looked at you like he wasn’t sure if he was being pranked.

“Relax. I can see you shivering like a dog,” you muttered.

“Oh.” He blinked, then grabbed the other end of the blanket and scooted in beside you.

Now under the same blanket, his body heat pressed faintly against yours. You sat side by side, knees pulled to your chests.

And then, in a whisper, he said, “You know…”

You looked over at him, startled by the sudden softness in his voice.

“I know I’m not as close to you as Jay and Jake are,” he said, eyes trained on the candle, “but… you don’t always have to find them for help.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“I’m saying…” he sighed, eyes flicking up toward you, and then away again. “Never mind.”

“No, what? Just spit it out.”

He exhaled through his nose like it physically hurt to get the words out. “I’m just saying… you could ask me for help too.”

You stared at him, your eyes adjusting to the candlelight flickering between you.

“Oh,” you said softly.

There was a beat of silence. You weren’t really sure what to do with that. But you didn’t want to leave it hanging either.

“I’ll be sure to think of you the next time,” you mumbled, barely louder than the rain still pelting the windows outside.

You felt him nod beside you.

You turned your head slowly, resting your cheek against your knees, eyes drifting toward him. His face was tilted down, lashes long and dark as they blinked now and then, just slow enough for you to notice. His jaw had softened a little. He looked calm, in a way you weren’t used to seeing him.

“Would you rather have a million dollars,” you said suddenly, “or have no problems in the world?”

He blinked, confused for a second, then turned his head toward you. His chin was on his knees now too, and with the two of you curled up in the same blanket, inches apart, it felt almost like whispering under covers at a sleepover.

“What kind of question is that?”

“A good one,” you replied, lips twitching. “So answer it.”

He scoffed a little under his breath. “Uh… maybe no problems in the world?”

“Smart answer. Why?”

He paused, “I think people ruin themselves trying to solve problems that shouldn’t be theirs. If I had no problems, maybe I wouldn’t waste time worrying about all the stuff that doesn’t matter.”

You blinked at him. That was… not the answer you were expecting. It was a good one. Way too good, actually.

“Right,” you said softly, giving him a small nod.

He looked at you for a second longer before his eyes flicked down. “Your turn. Would you rather go back in time or go into the future?”

You puffed your cheeks out, thinking. “Hmm… that’s a toughie.”

Then your eyes widened, the way they always did when you had a lightbulb moment. “Go back in time!”

“Why’s that?”

“So maybe I’d really weigh the pros and cons of moving to a city where I know no one,” you said with a grin, but it faded slightly at the end.

Sunghoon stayed quiet. 

“You must really feel alone,” he said.

You blinked, startled. “What?”

“I hear you talking about it sometimes. On your balcony. When you think no one’s listening. You talk about how moving here feels like a mistake.”

You looked away, embarrassed. “It’s not a mistake. I just… miss everything back home.”

“I get it,” he said after a second. “I was like you. Back when I was home, I wanted to leave so badly. Thought being somewhere else would fix everything. But now that I’m here… yeah, I have Jay and Jake, and they’re great, but sometimes I come back to the apartment and everything’s fine and normal and still—I just feel… empty. And I don’t even know why.”

You didn’t say anything for a long time.

You just watched him. His face had turned thoughtful, distant. His eyes unfocused, drifting somewhere past the flickering candle, past your walls, like he was staring right through the quiet that lived in his chest.

You mumbled, “Well, yeah. But… I also don’t regret it. Not one bit.”

“Really?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I mean—I’m here doing what I love. Not many people get to do that. And I made friends with three incredibly annoying people in this building.”

He turned toward you again, eyes narrowing playfully. “So we’re friends now?”

Your cheeks heated up instantly. You glanced away, pretending to roll your eyes. “Are we not?”

He let out a low chuckle, the kind that rumbled softly at the back of his throat. “I’m glad you think we are.”

“So,” you said, tilting your head, “does this mean you’ll finally be nice to me now? Or is that too much character development for one night?”

Sunghoon smirked, eyes flicking to you with a teasing glint. “You want nice? From me?”

“Yeah. Like a full sentence without sarcasm. I feel like that’s a reward I’ve earned by now.”

“You earned a participation medal at best.”

You laughed, nudging him with your knee. “Unbelievable.”

He was already looking at you again—closer this time.

“Hold on,” he said softly, “you have an eyelash on your cheek.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

Before you could move, he leaned in.

His face hovered inches from yours as his thumb brushed gently against your cheek, his touch soft but sure. The pads of his fingers were warm. His eyes, now impossibly close, scanned your face with a kind of quiet focus you hadn’t felt from him before. You swallowed.

Neither of you moved.

Your gaze locked, and the space between you slowly disappeared…inch by inch, breath by breath. It wasn’t planned. It just… happened.

Then suddenly, his lips were on yours.

Then it deepened. His other hand pushed the blanket off his head, dropping behind your neck to pull you in, and your hands found their way to his thighs, then to the curve of his jaw. His lips parted just enough, and your pulse jumped as he moved against you.

His hands slid to your waist. He lifted you slightly and shifted you into his lap in one smooth motion. You were now straddling him, knees on either side of his thighs, and he didn’t stop kissing you, not even for a second.

The kiss grew stronger. He tilted his head, hand moving to your chin to pull you even closer, his mouth parting yours with a low inhale as his tongue brushed against yours.

Your hands moved back down, gripping at the soft cotton of his hoodie, when—

Click.

The lights flickered on.

You both froze.

Your faces were still inches apart. 

You slowly pulled back, still on his lap. He blinked, eyes searching yours like he wasn’t sure what just happened. Like part of him wanted to keep going, and the other part… couldn’t believe you just kissed him like that.

You stared at each other, the silence heavy now.

His hands were still resting lightly on your waist. Yours were still fisted in the fabric of his hoodie. Both of you breathless. 

“I need to go back home,” Sunghoon said suddenly, voice low but rushed. His eyes darted everywhere except at you.

You blinked. “Right. Of course!” you said quickly, nodding way too fast. “Yeah. No—totally.”

He shifted awkwardly underneath you, face flushing as he cleared his throat and muttered, “Probably… need a pillow or something.”

It took you a second.

Then you saw the way he was subtly covering his lap with the edge of the blanket.

“Oh.” Your voice came out small. You quickly scrambled off his lap, cheeks burning so hot they could’ve powered your apartment during the blackout.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, already halfway to your door.

And then, Sunghoon stormed out of your apartment.

-

It had been a couple of days since you last properly spoke to Sunghoon. Not for lack of trying. You had…more than once. But each time, he’d give you a quick nod, maybe a polite smile if you were lucky, before promptly power-walking away.

Maybe he just wasn’t feeling what you were feeling. Maybe that kiss was a fluke, something in the heat of the moment. Maybe your little new crush was painfully one-sided.

But you pushed it aside. You had bigger things to focus on.

Jungwon was coming today.

You’d spent the entire morning rearranging your apartment, cleaning it from top to bottom, fluffing cushions and spraying perfume not just on yourself but into the air like it could somehow mask how nervous you were. You even did your hair the way he liked it, soft curls and a side part.

And then, there he was.

The door swung open and your best friend stood in the hallway, suitcase in hand and a grin already on his face.

“WON!” you squealed, running up to him and leaping into his arms.

“Hello, idiot,” he said, his voice fond as he hugged you back, lifting you off the ground with ease.

The shout must’ve startled the boys in 3C, because right on cue, the door across the hall creaked open and out came Jake and Jay, both peeking out.

They spotted you clinging to Jungwon like a koala.

You beamed. “Guys! It’s him!”

“The famous Jungwon,” Jay said, nodding in approval as he stepped out.

“And you must be Jake and Jay,” Jungwon said smoothly, setting you down.

Then came the third.

Sunghoon.

He didn’t move from the doorway. Just stood there, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

Jungwon turned to him, a friendly smile still on his lips, chuckling. “You must be Sunghoon, then.”

Sunghoon’s gaze narrowed slightly. “What’s so funny?”

Jungwon blinked, caught off guard. “Nothing,” he said, clearing his throat. “She just… told me you were like this.”

“Like what?” Sunghoon asked sharply, the scoff nearly audible in his tone.

Jungwon scratched the back of his neck. “Nothing. She just said you were cool,” he said with a shrug, throwing you a teasing look.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes.

You stood there, suddenly awkward, unsure what the hell had crawled up Sunghoon’s ass. The hostility was as thick as the tension in the air and you hadn’t done anything. Not really.

At least you didn’t think you had.

Just stood there, arms crossed, a stiff expression on his face while Jake and Jay welcomed Jungwon like he was already part of the group. Jungwon, ever the social butterfly, fit in easily, throwing a few jokes around, complimenting the apartment despite its questionable decor, and even teasing Jake about the ugly dinosaur pyjamas he was wearing in broad daylight.

But Sunghoon?

He was frowning the entire time.

You couldn’t figure it out. His jaw was tight, his responses were clipped, and every time Jungwon so much as glanced your way, you saw Sunghoon’s eye twitch.

You walked back to your apartment with Jungwon beside you, chatting excitedly about dinner plans and all the places he wanted to visit during his stay. But when you turned back, just for a second, you caught Sunghoon still watching. Still standing in the hallway.

His arms were still crossed.

And he didn’t look away.

-

Sunghoon stood there, arms folded across his chest like they were the only things keeping him together. He stared ahead blankly, jaw tight, doing everything in his power not to glare a hole through the wall. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling.

Sure, he knew he had a crush on you. He’d known since the chicken pot pie, probably. Or maybe since you wrapped that blanket around his shoulders. Or maybe long before that. But what he didn’t know was who the fuck Jungwon was, and why he was walking into your apartment.

“Dude,” Jake muttered, throwing him a sideways look. “You could’ve at least smiled.”

“I did,” Sunghoon growled, not bothering to hide his scowl.

Jay snorted. “That was barely a smile. You looked like you were in the middle of passing a kidney stone.”

“Why do I even have to be nice?” Sunghoon snapped. “I don’t know him.”

“Because your crush’s boyfriend just came into town,” Jake replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Sunghoon's head snapped to him so fast you’d think he got whiplash. “Boyfriend?”

Jay raised a brow. “Not denying the crush though.”

Sunghoon ignored him. “Let me ask you again. Boyfriend?”

Jake shrugged. “I mean… yeah, I guess?”

“What the fuck do you mean you guess?” Sunghoon hissed, dragging a hand down his face. “He can’t be her boyfriend.”

“But he is,” Jay said with a shrug and an infuriatingly smug smile.

“No, he’s not. He can’t be. Because she and I…” he paused, realising too late what was about to fall out of his mouth. “…kissed. Three nights ago.”

Jake’s mouth dropped open. Jay blinked.

“I’m sorry, what?” Jake finally blurted.

“Nothing,” Sunghoon muttered quickly, suddenly desperate to eat his words.

“You can’t say nothing when you just said everything!” Jake shouted, grabbing Sunghoon’s shoulders and shaking him.

“Tell us right now!” Jay begged dramatically, gripping his own hair.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, flustered. “I—we—kissed. That’s it.”

Jay blinked. “You know we were kidding about the boyfriend thing, right?”

Jake grinned. “Jungwon’s just her best friend.”

“We just wanted to see if you’d admit you liked her,” Jay added, eyes sparkling with way too much joy. “Which you did.”

“No, I didn’t,” Sunghoon argued weakly. “I just said we kissed.”

“Okay, Mr Visceral Reaction every time we mention Jungwon,” Jake teased.

Jay smirked. “Say it. Say you like her.”

Sunghoon groaned, eyes shut tight as if the ceiling could swallow him whole. Then, finally—quietly, begrudgingly—

“Okay. So what if I like her?”

Jay and Jake immediately turned to each other with identical gasps, smacking each other’s arms excitedly.

“Oh my god, he admitted it,” Jay whispered dramatically.

Jake clutched his chest. “It’s happening.”

“You guys are disgusting,” Sunghoon groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And if you keep acting like this, I’m never telling you anything again.”

“Okay, okay.” Jake raised both hands, trying to suppress a grin. “We’ll behave.”

“BUT I’M SO EXCITED,” Jay squealed.

Jake smacked him on the shoulder. “Starting now.”

Jay nodded solemnly, rubbing his arm. “Sorry. That one slipped.”

Sunghoon sighed and leaned against the counter, arms crossed again. “I started liking her last month… when you guys went back home for the week. She cooked me stir-fried noodles, and we ate together. Played FIFA. I don’t know. I just… developed a crush on her.”

“That’s so cute,” Jay and Jake said in unison, stars in their eyes.

“Seriously, can the two of you act normal for like three minutes?”

Jake shrugged, still smiling. “I just didn’t expect you to have a girlfriend before me.”

Jay patted his shoulder. “You’ll get there, buddy.”

Jake tilted his head. “You think?”

“Yeah, you have nice eyes. Great personality.”

Jake beamed. “That’s so kind.”

“Can we please get back to my problem for like a minute?” Sunghoon cut in, glaring at both of them.

“Oh. Right.”

Jay cleared his throat and finally looked serious. “Look. We like her. She’s hilarious, and she makes good fucking food. And let’s be real, you’ve never liked anyone. We’ve been trying to get you to double date with us for years and you just stare at your phone all the time. But with her? You’re like... a guy with actual feelings.”

“But now I’m losing to Jung… whatever his name is.” Sunghoon sighed.

“Jungwon,” Jake said. “And no, you’re not.”

“How do you know she doesn’t like him?” Sunghoon muttered, staring down at the floor.

“Because,” Jay said, “if she did, she wouldn’t have kissed you.”

“Unless she’s indecisive or confused or something. I don’t know.” Sunghoon exhaled hard, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe I was just… a moment. And he’s her person.”

Jake shook his head. “I’m telling you—just talk to her.”

“Yeah,” Jay added. “Before you spiral even harder and start writing love songs about her. But if you do, I haved like a couple of guitars you could borrow.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. But somewhere, deep down… a part of him hoped they were right.

-

You were pacing back and forth on your cheap IKEA rug, while Jungwon was laid out dramatically on your bed, arms folded behind his head, thoroughly enjoying the show.

“I’m telling you, he’s avoiding me,” you snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at no one in particular. “We kissed—KISSED, Jungwon—and now he won’t even look at me! I wave, he nods. I say hi, he nods. I breathe in his direction, he—guess what—nods!”

Jungwon hummed, annoyingly calm. “Maybe he’s nervous. Or maybe he wants you to go to him.”

“I do go to him! And then he speed-walks away like I’m the plague!” You groaned, pressing your fingers to your temples. “I’m gonna lose it.”

“Maybe…” he tapped his chin thoughtfully, “you’re just a shit kisser.”

You whipped around and chucked a throw pillow directly at his smug face.

“Asshole.”

He caught it with a grin, clutching it to his chest dramatically. “I’m just saying. Maybe you scared him off.”

“You’re lucky I haven’t strangled you with this blanket,” you muttered, grabbing another pillow just in case.

Jungwon sat up, brushing imaginary dust off his shirt. “You know, sometimes I forget we grew up together because you’re so unpredictable now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He snorted. “You used to be fearless. Remember that Heeseung guy you had a crush on in middle school?”

You blinked. “What about him?”

“You were six, and you walked up to him at recess, said ‘I like your lunchbox,’ then kissed his cheek and ran off.”

“Ah,” you said flatly, “the good old days. That girl’s dead now.”

“She’s not dead,” Jungwon argued, grabbing your wrists and tugging you to sit beside him on the bed. “She’s just… overthinking everything. Look, if Sunghoon doesn’t like you—whatever. But if he does? You’re missing out just because you’re too chicken to tell him.”

You glared. “I hate it when you make sense.”

“I know.” He grinned. “It’s my worst trait.”

“I just—” you exhaled, flopping back beside him. “What if it ruins everything? We literally just got closer. What if I say something and it all goes to shit?”

“Okay, counter-offer.” He sat up straighter. “You tell him, or I will. I will walk down the hallway, knock on his door, and go ‘Hi, my best friend has feelings for you, she also has performance anxiety but can cook a great bowl of chicken noodle soup.’”

“You wouldn’t,” you hissed, swatting at his arm.

“Then do it yourself!” he laughed, dodging your attacks. “Before I start printing flyers and pasting them in the apartment lobby.”

God. Why did he always have to be right?

“Fine.”

Your hand was already on the doorknob, breath caught in your throat, just about to leave when the door across from yours had swung open at the exact same time.

And there he was.

Sunghoon.

You both froze, hands still gripping the doorknobs, blinking.

You cleared your throat first. “Sunghoon.”

He blinked like he hadn’t already been staring. “What?”

You squinted. “Is that the only word you know how to say when I call your name?”

He paused. “Sorry.”

You opened your mouth to say something else but were rudely interrupted by muffled snorts from behind Sunghoon. Jay and Jake’s heads popped out from their doorway like nosy meerkats.

“Hoon,” Jay said in a loud, exaggerated voice, “we need more eggs.”

“Desperately,” Jake added, nodding like this was a national emergency. “Go to the store.”

Then Jungwon peeked out from behind you with an equally suspicious grin. “Oh, and while you’re there, can you grab some ice cream too?”

You and Sunghoon looked at each other.

“What is happening right now,” you said flatly.

Before either of you could respond, four hands shoved the both of you toward the elevator. You stumbled in, the doors sliding shut just as Jay yelled out, “Don’t come back without snacks!”

The elevator stopped at your floor.

Your shoulders brushed as you stood side by side, awkwardly watching the floor numbers light up.

Then, finally, you broke it. “About that day—”

Sunghoon shook his head quickly. “Don’t worry about it. I won’t tell Jungwon.”

You blinked. “What do you mean you won’t tell Jungwon?”

He looked away. “Well, aren’t you like… crushing on him? I wouldn’t want what we did to, you know… ruin your chances or something.”

Your entire face scrunched up. “Won and I? What? Ew. God, no. We’re friends. We grew up together. Thinking about him that way would be like incest or something.”

And just like that, Sunghoon felt like he’d been hit by a shooting star and given a second chance at life. His heart did a full backflip. You were single. You were available. 

He couldn’t help it. He smiled.

“Why do you suddenly look so happy?” you asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“I’m not.”

“You’re literally smiling.”

“I’m not.”

“We’ve hung out a couple of times and if I’m being honest, I’ve never seen you smile this—”

“Cut it out.” He tried to brush it off, biting back the grin. “I’m just glad.”

“Glad about?”

“Glad that I didn’t ruin your chances,” he said nonchalantly, looking up like he hadn’t just panicked thirty seconds ago.

“Mhm.” You narrowed your eyes at him, the golden-orange glow of the sunset casting warmth across his cheekbones. He was handsome. Frustratingly so. “Well… because I actually like this other guy.”

Sunghoon’s smile faltered.

“I haven’t known him that long,” you continued casually, “but he seems cool. I don’t really know much about him yet.”

“That’s… nice.” Sunghoon turned away quickly, jaw tight. He was definitely grimacing. Please don’t let her see that I’m grimacing, he begged internally.

“Yeah, he’s really tall. Really handsome, too.”

“That’s just…” he exhaled. “Great.”

“He doesn’t seem super friendly but he has a big heart. Even if he tries really hard not to show it.”

“Seems like a swell fuckin’ guy,” he muttered bitterly.

“It’s a pity though,” you sighed dramatically, still watching him. “I wish I could get to know him better.”

“Well… anyone’s lucky to get to know you.” He tried to smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. “I know I am.”

You tilted your head. “Not to mention… he lives really close to me.”

Sunghoon’s eyes darted to you. “He does?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, heartbeat accelerating.

“Like how close?”

You took a slow step toward him. “Like… just across the hall close.”

“Oh.” He blinked. “That close.”

Silence settled in the small elevator. You both just stood there, not looking at each other, tension hanging in the air like humidity.

Then, out of nowhere—

“I’m just saying,” Sunghoon said, dead serious, “but Jake sleeps with the lights on and Jay doesn’t wash his hair as often as you think he does.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“I sleep normal,” he added quickly. “I wash my hair. I do proper haircare—shampoo, conditioner, mask, mist. I could do your routine too. For you. If you want.”

You stared.

“I can’t cook, but I’ll try. I can figure skate. I can spin twice in the air. Jay and Jake? Not even one spin. Jay can play guitar, Jake can sing but I can spin, okay? Without getting dizzy too.”

“Sunghoon.”

“And those idiots never clean up after eating your food. Jay doesn’t use coasters. Jake never makes his bed.”

“SUNGHOON!”

He looked at you, breathless. “What?”

You stepped forward. Slowly. Then, you mumbled, “It’s you.”

He blinked. “What?”

“I like you.”

And for once, Park Sunghoon had absolutely nothing to say.

“Okay,” he said. “Cool. Okay. I—wow. Okay.”

You raised a brow. “That’s it?”

He nodded dumbly. “No. Yes. I don’t know. I just—holy shit. You like me.”

You smirked, the smile slowly stretching across your face. “Yes. I like you.”

The elevator dinged. Neither of you moved.

He looked at you again, still dazed. “Hold on, I kinda need a minute.”

You both stepped out into the empty lobby. The sun outside had just dipped below the skyline, casting a pinkish-orange glow through the glass doors. The streetlights flickered on. But you waited.

“It’s been a minute,” you said.

“I know,” he exhaled, hand raking through his hair. “But you like me back, so I kinda need, like… a long minute.”

“Back?” You grinned, the corners of your mouth lifting all the way to your eyes. “So you like me too?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I thought it was obvious from the, uh… word vomit.”

“Well yeah,” you shrugged. “But I didn’t want to assume. Didn’t wanna be narcissistic.”

“I think even if you were,” he muttered, “I’d still think you were pretty cute.”

You blinked. “Did you just—”

“Gross, I know,” he said quickly, face flushing. “I just said that out loud, didn’t I?”

You laughed. “Yeah. But you kinda can’t take it back now.”

“Fine,” he said, pretending to groan. “You’re cute. Ugh. I said it again.”

-

A MONTH LATER

Jay and Jake found it fundamentally unfair. They were the ones who got close to you first. They were the ones who complimented you, made you laugh, showed up when you needed help. They loved you first or at least, that’s what they told themselves. But here you were, doors locked for the first time in three months, cooking a full-course meal for Sunghoon to celebrate your one-month anniversary.

“You’re not allowed to come,” Sunghoon told them flatly before slamming the door shut.

“But—!” they shouted in unison, already mourning the steak they wouldn’t get to taste.

Word on the hallway was that you were cooking the perfect medium-rare T-bone steak, paired with your signature brown sauce and a vegetable medley so crunchy and flavourful. Meanwhile, Jay and Jake sat hunched on the couch, scrolling through a food delivery app.

“Isn’t it funny,” Jake said, arms folded, “how we were the ones who befriended her first, and now we’re stuck with Burger King?”

“Life’s unfair, bud.”

Back in your apartment, things were a little more romantic. You’d decorated with fairy lights and candles, the room dimly lit. You were still being frugal, splitting every cost you could. But you’d managed to steal two T-bone steaks from the diner you part-timed at.

Sunghoon showed up in a black and white tuxedo, looking like he’d taken the prom theme you had placed as a joke a little too seriously.

“You look absolutely gorgeous,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“And you look absolutely handsome,” you grinned.

He walked over to the table and took in the spread. “Okay, what do we have?”

“I made the steaks, obviously, and then there’s the vegetable medley… and your favourite—mashed potatoes,” you giggled.

Sunghoon exhaled, shaking his head with a disbelieving smile. “How did I get so lucky?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know either.”

He laughed. “The guys are pissed, by the way. You made me all this, and they’re over there with cold fries.”

“What?” you said, surprised. “I made them something too! Don’t worry.”

“You did?” he raised a brow.

“I had a feeling they’d be hungry if you were over here.”

“Babe, you didn’t have to do that. They’re grown men.”

“Yeah, but technically my assignment this week was pasta and I have too many leftovers.”

“They’re spoiled by you.”

“And so are you.”

“True, but I’m your boyfriend. They’re just two annoying shitheads constantly trying to butt in.”

“I’ll be quick. I’ll just drop the dish off and come back.”

“No,” he said, standing. “I’ll do it. You stay here.”

He kissed your forehead, grabbing the lasagna you’d tucked into the fridge. “You’re too sweet, you know that?”

“He walked across the hall and opened the door to Unit 3C.

Inside, Jay was mid-rant. “I just don’t get it. Sunghoon isn’t even that hot.”

“I mean, he is,” Jake added, “but she deserves better, you know?”

Sunghoon cleared his throat. “I can hear you two idiots.”

They both froze, turning around sheepishly. “We were just joking. We love you, man.”

He held up the dish. “And to think I came here bearing gifts from my girlfriend.”

Jake’s eyes widened. “Wait—is that lasagna?”

“She felt bad we were eating good without you, so she made you dinner.”

“Oh my god,” Jay gasped. “Sunghoon, I don’t mean to be pushy, but please marry her.”

“I can’t,” Sunghoon muttered. “Not when you two are constantly inserting yourselves into my relationship.”

“Okay, okay, we’ll back off. Just—can we have the lasagna?”

“And can you tell her we love her?”

“I am not telling my girlfriend you love her,” Sunghoon snapped. “I’ve barely worked up the nerve to tell her that myself.”

“Wait,” Jake said suddenly, “you haven’t told her you love her yet?”

“It’s only been a month.”

“So… you don’t love her?”

“I do,” Sunghoon replied, almost too quickly. “I just don’t want to come on too strong if she’s not ready.”

Jay and Jake shared a glance before shrugging.

“What?” Sunghoon asked, frowning. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jake cleared his throat. “It’s just… she already said it.”

Sunghoon looked up. “What?”

“Yeah,” Jake replied casually. “You texted her about picking up those heat packs for her cramps, and she went all soft and whispered, ‘God, I love him so much.’ Her words. Not mine.”

Sunghoon stood frozen in the doorway, the dish in his hands suddenly weightless.

You loved him.

“So… you’re saying I should tell her?” he asked, voice quiet, almost unsure.

Jay and Jake both nodded enthusiastically. “Definitely. Especially if it makes her our sister-in-law,” Jay added, grinning.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “God, the two of you can be so annoying.”

“But you still love us,” Jay shrugged. “So what’s the point of complaining?”

He hated that Jay was right.

Back in your apartment, Sunghoon sat across from you, completely transfixed. You were dressed in a soft pink satin dress that shimmered every time you moved. It hugged your shoulders delicately, the neckline simple, elegant. Your hair was curled softly, pinned loosely on one side with a vintage clip, and your lips were glossed just enough to make him stare longer than he should’ve.

And God, you looked so beautiful.

He tried to pay attention. He really did. But his heart was too loud, his thoughts too full. How was he supposed to say it?

Sunghoon had never told anyone he loved them before. Not seriously. Maybe to his mom years ago, right before he left for the city. But this? This felt entirely new.

Because sitting in front of him was someone who made every quiet part of his life feel loud again. You filled in the spaces he didn’t even know were missing. You made his apartment feel less cold, his world a little less grey. And the way he loved you—God, it wasn’t something small. It wasn’t a flicker or a passing crush. It was all-consuming and terrifying and the best damn thing he’d ever felt.

He loved you like it was muscle memory. Like even if he forgot everything else, his hands would still reach for yours and only yours.

“Hoonie,” you interrupted gently, frowning. “You’re not listening.”

He blinked back into focus. “Sorry,” he murmured, smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I was just thinking about something.”

“What?” you looked up at him, ur big eyes shining. 

Sunghoon unknowingly smiled, his eyes dripping with honey, god he loved you. He wanted to say that. So badly.

“I…I just–uh–feel…that,” His voice trailed off. “You look really beautiful tonight. I mean, you always do. But especially tonight.” He hesitated, the words stuck behind his teeth.

You smiled. “Thank you. You look very handsome too.”

-

Later that night, the two of you were in Sunghoon’s apartment along with Jay and Jake for the usual game night. 

You were sitting cross-legged on the floor, your prom-night dress bunched awkwardly around your knees, mascara slightly smudged from earlier laughter, hair pinned half-up. Sunghoon sat slouched in the beanbag beside you, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, brow furrowed in concentration. Jake was lying on his stomach, legs swinging in the air, and Jay had somehow made himself horizontal on the couch.

You and Jake were a team. Sunghoon and Jay were not handling that well.

“Revive me!” Sunghoon yelled.

Jay shouted back, “I’m busy trying not to die, dumbass!”

Button mashing intensified. Trash talk flew across the room.

“VICTORY!” Jake screamed, leaping up like a madman.

You followed suit, springing to your feet and clambering up onto the coffee table in your dress. “GET WRECKED, LOSERS!” you yelled, pointing dramatically at Sunghoon. “THAT’S RIGHT, LOSERS!”

Jake joined you on the table, doing a badly timed robot dance. The two of you jumped in sync, yelling in triumph, while Jay groaned into a throw pillow and Sunghoon watched with a hand covering his mouth, half to hide his smile, half to suppress a laugh.

“You’re all bark, no bite!” you called, face flushed, hair falling loose. “Your character died fourteen times, Hoonie.”

“I let you win!” he shot back, grinning as he sat up straighter. “I was being a gentleman.”

“Sure,” you scoffed, sticking your tongue out at him. “Real chivalrous of you, sir died-14-fucking-times.”

He chuckled under his breath, eyes lingering on you for a second longer than usual. Then, without a word, he stood and walked out of the room.

You blinked. That was...odd. 

You gave Jake a gentle shove off the table and followed Sunghoon into the hallway. He was pacing outside, one hand in his hair, the other fiddling with the watch on his wrist.

“Hoon?” you asked, stepping out and gently closing the door behind you.

He jumped slightly, turning toward you. “You scared me.”

“You okay? You just left so sudden…”

“I—uh—yeah. I was just trying to figure out how to say something.”

You tilted your head, arms crossing over your chest. “Say what?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled with a shrug.

Your expression softened. “Are you mad at me?” You sighed. Maybe your little victory dance had been a bit much. “Hoonie?”

“No, baby, I could never be mad at you,” he said quickly, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just…”

You stepped closer, teasing lightly, “Do you want me to redo my victory dance? I could. You just have to beatbox, and I’ll take it from there.”

That made him laugh.

“Come on,” you grinned, starting to move your body in the most ridiculous way. “I’m pretty sure I should’ve been a dancer instead of a chef.”

He laughed again, this time louder and then, before he could stop himself, the words slipped out.

“Oh my god, I love you.”

You blinked. Your smile faded. Your brain, for one impossible second, completely short-circuited.

“Did you just say you love me?” you asked, heart hammering.

His eyes widened in sheer panic. “No?”

“I heard it.”

“You misheard.”

“Oh my god,” you gasped, practically vibrating. “You love me. You love me!”

“Fine!” he burst out, throwing his hands up like he was under arrest. “I do! I love you, okay?”

You smiled, “You do?”

“Of course! I love the way you talk too fast when you’re excited. I love how you make my idiot friends feel like they matter. I love that you make me feel whole. That when I’m with you, I don’t feel hollow anymore. You… you make me feel like I’m not empty.”

You grinned so wide it hurt. “That’s because you’re not.”

“I used to be,” he said helplessly, gesturing vaguely like he was mourning his past self. “I was mysterious. Brooding. Sexy, even. And now? Now I smile at cat videos you send me on TikTok. Look what you’ve done to me. This is all your fault.”

You scoffed, “My fault?”

“Yes! Who else could it be?” he said, breathless, like the truth had been waiting at the edge of his tongue for too long. “You walk into my life with that stupidly perfect smile, that laugh that makes everything feel lighter, those eyes that somehow hold the whole damn sky and now I’ve got feelings. Big ones.”

He took a shaky breath, pausing for a minute.

“I used to think I was fine on my own. But now? I get out of bed just because I know I might see you. I hear your knock and my whole day lights up. For the first time, I feel like I know what living really means. It’s you. Loving you. That’s it.”

You leaned in and kissed him right in the middle of his rant.

He blinked, dazed.

“You sure talk a lot for someone who usually says nothing,” you murmured, forehead resting against his.

“I do it when I’m nervous,” Sunghoon whispered, and then kissed you again.

“I find it cute,” you mumbled between kisses.

Sunghoon grinned into the next kiss, backing you up step by step toward your apartment door, his hands finding your waist. “God,” kiss “I love you,” another kiss “so much.”

You let out a breathless laugh. “You’re very handsy for someone who claimed to be brooding and mysteriou.”

“I told you,” he whispered, lips brushing your jaw as he reached behind you, fumbling for the door handle, “you ruined me.”

Your back hit the door with a thud. He fumbled with the knob like he was drunk on you, eventually pushing it open and guiding you inside.

He kicked the door shut with the back of his foot.

You were still laughing into his kiss. He walked you backward until your knees hit the bed and you dropped onto it with a squeak.

He climbed over you, hands on either side of your waist, face flushed, heart in his throat.

“I fucking love you,” he said again, like it wasn’t real until he repeated it.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, eyes sparkling. “I love you too.”

[wonnienyang]

DELETED DRABBLES:

(thank u to whoever i stalked to get these back..)

u and hee after a fight (smut)

being a brat to niki

cranky reader -- heeseung babying u

you and heeseung at a party (drunk reader)

heeseung w morning wood (smut)

jay making u realize that sunghoon is a toxic bf

sunghoon w a gf whos pretty when she cries

toxic ex sunghoon

EXTRAS ON MY PAGE:

soft dom hee eating u out for the first time -> part two (both smut)

dad!heeseung

jake babying reader after losing his notebook

jake overstimulating reader (smut)

heeseung helping u out the shower -- heeseung babying u

heeseung with another morning wood!! (Smut)

[wonnienyang]

cranky, are we? — [L.HS]

heeseung with typical spoiled reader — around memebers (jaykehoonki) 𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･ | ᡣ𐭩 ᯓ fluff, comfort, babying | wc: 0.5k | marea talks: sorry for the inactivity guys.. moving was way more exhausting than I expected and I’m still doing my closet as we speak

You started to stir in Heeseung’s lap, your face scrunching up as a tiny whine left your lips. Heeseung immediately looked down, rubbing your back gently.

“What is it, baby?” he asked softly, his voice filled with concern.

You squirmed slightly, burying your face deeper into his chest. “M’not comfy,” you mumbled, your voice small and petulant.

The members glanced over, clearly amused.

“Here we go,” Sunghoon muttered, earning a playful shove from Jake.

Heeseung sighed softly and shifted you in his lap, trying to find a position that might soothe you. “You’re not comfy because you’re cranky, my little princess,” he said, brushing your hair back. “You didn’t nap long enough.”

You pouted, rubbing your eyes as you sat up slightly. “But the couch is scratchy,” you complained, tugging on the blanket he had wrapped around you. “And it’s too loud.”

“It’s not loud at all,” Niki said, grinning as he leaned against the wall. “You’re just fussy.”

You turned your head to glare at him, but the pout on your lips only made you look more adorable.

“Don’t tease her,” Heeseung warned, giving Niki a pointed look before turning his attention back to you. “Do you want me to move you somewhere else, baby? Maybe to a bed?”

You shook your head, clutching onto his shirt. “No… wanna stay with you.”

His heart melted at how soft and clingy you were. “Okay, okay,” he murmured, pulling you closer. “We’ll stay right here then. Just try to rest, hmm?”

But you didn’t settle. You kept shifting in his lap, letting out little huffs and whines that made the members glance at each other in amusement.

“Princess,” Heeseung said softly, cupping your cheek to make you look at him. “You’re getting yourself all worked up. What do you need? Tell me, my sweet girl.”

You blinked at him, your bottom lip jutting out. “I don’t know,” you mumbled, your voice shaky.

Heeseung sighed and kissed your forehead, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You’re just overtired, angel,” he whispered. “Let me help, okay?”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “How does he put up with her when she’s like this?”

“He spoils her,” Jay said with a shrug.

“You’d spoil her too if she was curled up in your lap, looking like that,” Sunghoon said, nodding toward you.

Heeseung chuckled softly, overhearing them. “She’s perfect, that’s why,” he said, cradling your head against his chest. “Even when she’s cranky.”

You closed your eyes, letting his gentle words and soft touches soothe you. The members fell quiet, watching as you finally started to relax in Heeseung’s arms.

“See?” Heeseung said, smiling down at you. “All you needed was a little attention, huh, my princess?”

[wonnienyang]

You thought things would calm down after the confessions, the crying, the sex. After fists were thrown and secrets dragged out into the open. But Jake is still mean, Sunghoon is still quiet, and now you're still stuck somewhere in the middle—aching for something that feels like love but tastes like possession.

• minors do not interact

• pairing: sunghoon x afab reader x jake

• wc: 45k (yikes)

• content tags: SMUT, polyamory, angst, found family vibes, messy relationship dynamics, emotional hurt/comfort, intense group drama, mention of cheating, heavy emotional themes, jealousy, slut shaming, verbal degradation, crying, physical altercation, unhealthy coping mechanisms, complex feelings, mentions of sexuality, power imbalance, reader calls the boys hoonie and yunnie sometimes, mentions of enhypen’s jay, jungwon and heeseung and lesserafim’s yunjin and chaewon. not proofread.

WARNINGS: emotional whiplash, heavy angst, themes of cheating, heartbreak, yelling, crying, drinking, graphic, talks of weight loss/gain, depictions of sex, slut-shaming (called out), toxic relationships, emotional manipulation, intense emotional vulnerability, hurt/comfort, slow burn healing. please read with care 💕, also i need everyone to remember that this is FICTION!

• a/n: yes i know it took me forever to write this, yes it nearly emotionally destroyed me in the process and yes, i hope it emotionally destroys you too enjoy the chaos, again and the crying, and the filthy ass smut.

• nsfw warnings under the cut

threesome (mfm), established relationship, emotionally charged sex, oral (f and m receiving), praise kink, slight breeding kink, slight dacryphilia (crying during sex), anal, slight hair pulling, face sitting, spanking, themes of voyeurism, squirting, possession/claiming, lots of kissing and touching, switch!jake and dom!sunghoon, sub!reader, double the aftercare, shared bed, reader is doted on completely, lots of “mine” and “ours,” intense eye contact, and deep emotional intimacy wrapped in filth. let me know if i missed any.

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You weren't even supposed to come tonight. Again. You'd said as much when Sunghoon offered to pick you up, voice hushed over the phone, socked feet curled under you on the couch, saying, "I don't think I'm in a party mood." He didn't push. He never really does. He just said, "You'll be with us," like it was that simple. "It's someone's birthday, right?" you asked after a beat. "I don't even know the birthday boy."

"Jungwon won't mind." You blinked. "Who even is Jungwon?" And then, faintly, over the phone, not even on the call with you, Jake's voice rang out in the background like a war cry. "Ugh! Just come, Y/N!!"

So now you're here. Three drinks in and sunk into a velvet-cornered couch, nursing a half-empty cup while Jake makes eyes at you from across the room, he probably thinks you've been talking to Yunjin for too long now. You didn't even know she'd be here tonight. You're trying so desperately trying to listen to what she's saying, something about how things have changed with Heeseung, how he's not the same, how you’ve barely been at your apartment, but it's hard to when Jake's stare is making heat crawl up your spine. It's different now with you and him, with you and them. There's no official label, no posts or promises. Just this unspoken closeness, a quiet claiming that's bled into everything. It sits under your skin like warmth after a fever. You're still you, still the girl who people-watches from corners, still awkward when they touch you too long, but now, when Jake calls you pretty, you roll your eyes and tell him to shut up instead of looking away.

And he lives for it, he watches you the way you watch people, he notices you. Notices when you excuse yourself from Yunjin's presence and head to the kitchen. "You staring again, sweetheart?" Jake's voice cuts through the low music, dragging your attention away from the stranger in the corner who's been arguing with a girl in black boots for the past fifteen minutes. You blink up at him. He's leaning against the wall beside you now, eyes lazy, lips pink from whatever cocktail someone handed him earlier. His shirt is half-unbuttoned already.

"I wasn't staring," you mumble, even though you were. "I was observing." Jake laughs, that boyish little tilt of his head when he knows he's caught you in a lie. "Mm. Observing. Right." He reaches for your cup and takes a sip without asking, then makes a face. "What is that?"

"I don't know. Someone handed it to me and said it tasted like juice." Jake hums, leaning closer. "It tastes like trauma.” You hear Sunghoon snort as he approaches both of you and it makes your cheeks warm, not just from Jake's teasing, "I was watching that couple over there," you mutter, nodding toward the argument in the corner. Jake follows your gaze. "Oof. Been there." "You're so mean," you say, sipping from your cup just to have something to do with your hands. "I'm honest," he counters, brushing your hair out of your face. "You think he cheated?" Your eyes flick back to the couple. The girl's arms are crossed, the guy's face twisted in the kind of guilt you can't fake. "Definitely. He looks like he left his phone face-down one too many times." Jake hums in agreement, and then—"You know who else used to leave her phone face-down?" You glance at him, slow. "Who?" Jake's grin sharpens. "You." Your mouth parts, ready to protest, but he just winks, smug and playful, and says, "It's okay, baby. We already know you're the heartbreaker now."

"I am not—" you start, but you don't get to finish. Because Sunghoon, who's been silent the entire time, watching the exchange with a faint smirk, suddenly pulls you to his side and plants a kiss to the side of your head. You gasp, caught off guard, hand flying up to steady yourself against his chest. "You're letting him get cocky," Sunghoon murmurs near your ear. His voice is quiet and casual, but it melts down your spine. "He's gonna think you like him."

"I don't," you say, but it's breathless and Jake's grin widens like he knows better. "You so do," he says, brushing his fingers along the rim of your cup. "Admit it." Your face burns. Sunghoon chuckles beside you—a rare, genuine sound. "Let her breathe, Jaeyun. You're scaring her." "She likes when I scare her."

"I like when you shut up," you snap, heart thumping too fast—and both of them freeze. And then Jake's mouth drops open, affronted. "Oh, you've changed."

"I told you," Sunghoon murmurs, dragging his hand over the small of your back. It's new—all of it. The teasing, the way you don't fold under their attention anymore, not as easily. The way you lean into Sunghoon's chest like you belong there. Like you've finally accepted that, in some strange, broken way, you do. The music starts to shift to something bass-heavy and dark, pouring in from the open sliding doors that lead to the patio. You barely notice when Sunghoon moves. He's smooth like that, so quiet, so deliberate in the way he pulls you deeper into the house, away from the center of noise and heat. His palm stays at your lower back, anchoring you like a leash.

It's only when you blink and glance around that you realize the people around you have thinned. This side of the house is dimmer, quieter. A hallway leads off to what you assume is a guest bedroom, but you're tucked into a low couch that's slightly hidden by tall shelving and shadow. The music still thrums through the walls, but here, it's softer. Private. Sunghoon pulls you into his lap sideways—your legs draping across his thighs as he settles back, one arm slung across the back of the couch behind you, the other resting possessively on your outer thigh.

Jake flops down beside him, his knee bumping against yours, completely unfazed by the way you're curled into Sunghoon's body like a second skin. You feel dizzy, not from alcohol, but from the shift in atmosphere. From how real this feels. Jake's fingers trail lazily down your shin before they reach your ankle, his expression curious. "When'd you get these?" he asks, tone unreadable. You glance at him, confused. "You bought them." Jake's eyes lift. "I did?"

"Last week." He tilts his head, mouth twitching like he's somewhere between amused and disturbed. "Was I blacked out?"

"No," you say quietly, "you were just... distracted." Sunghoon exhales through his nose. You feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back. The silence that follows feels weighted. "I should introduce you to Jungwon," Sunghoon murmurs then, his voice almost lost in the thrum of the music spilling from the other end of the house. His hand slides higher up your thigh, not rushed, just steady. Intimate. Your fingers curl around his wrist. "Stop—people will see."

"So?"

"Yunjin might walk in."

Jake's jaw twitches. He leans forward, casually prying your hand off Sunghoon's like he's done it a hundred times. "Who gives a fuck about Yunjin," he mutters, eyes still on your foot, thumb brushing a slow line up your calf. "She always shows up uninvited anyway." The bitterness in his voice is quiet but undeniable. It slithers into your chest like smoke. "I don't want to meet Jungwon," you say, not even sure why. Jake shrugs. "He's harmless."

"He's also Jake's golden boy," Sunghoon adds. "Little too sweet. Makes me uncomfortable." You don't even have time to fully process what that means before Jake scoffs, fingers tightening a fraction where they're brushing your calf. "Says the one who fucked him," he mutters, not even looking up. You blink. "What?" The word slips out of you in a gasp before you can stop it. Your voice isn't loud, but it cuts straight through the air between all three of you. Sunghoon doesn't flinch. Doesn't blink. Just tilts his head slightly like the memory is irrelevant now. Jake finally meets your eyes. "Yeah. That's how it works with Hoon, baby. He breaks them in, and gets bored of them."

It's a joke. But not really. You glance at Sunghoon, expecting something—denial, annoyance, anything. But he just shrugs one shoulder, casual. "He was curious," he says simply, like he's talking about something as mundane as loaning someone a lighter. Jake snorts. "He was obsessed with you for weeks."

"And then he wasn't." Silence settles again. You sit there stunned, a little breathless, wrapped in Sunghoon's lap and Jake's stare, while this entire new side of their past unfurls around you. And now Jungwon is walking toward you, pretty and bright and completely unaware that you just found out both the man beneath you has slept with him. You don't know what shocks you more—the reveal, or how unbothered they are by it. "He's a literal angel," Jake says, annoyed. "And he's been asking about her." Before you can respond, someone steps into view. You glance up—startled by how young the boy looks. Pretty. Too clean. Too bright for the shadowed space you're in. Jake doesn't even look surprised. "Hi, birthday boy." Jungwon stops short when he sees you. And you see it. The shift. "Oh," he says, his voice soft with wonder. "Are you...Y/N?" The way he says your name, like he already knows it. Like he's said it before, makes you stiffen slightly.

Jake smiles, slow. "Told you she was real." Jungwon looks at you like you're unreal anyway. "I've... heard a lot about you," he says gently. Sunghoon hasn't said a word. But his hand is still on your thigh. His fingers tap twice—almost like a warning. You try to remember how to breathe. "Happy birthday," you say finally, voice small. Jungwon smiles. "This might be the best part of it." You don't know what to say to that. You don't look at Jake and you don't dare look at Sunghoon. It hits you all at once—how this thing between the three of you lives just under the surface. Like a current humming in the walls. Invisible, but undeniable. And Jungwon, for all his innocence, is standing at the edge of it. Jake lets out a small sound. Not quite a laugh. "C'mon, Wonnie. Don't be creepy." Jungwon scratches the back of his neck, flushed. "Sorry. Just... surprised."

You nod, almost imperceptibly. You feel like a surprise too. An anomaly in this world you're still not sure you belong in. But they keep pulling you deeper, neither of them ever ask if you're ready. You're starting to think they don't care. Jungwon fits in too easily, you think. He stays after the introductions, laughter light in his voice and gaze too warm when it lands on Jake. The way he leans closer when Jake talks, how he seems to know exactly how to make him laugh. Their rhythm is natural, almost flirtatious but familiar and you're not sure what that says about anything. It's not just the ease between them, it's the way Jungwon looks at you sometimes, asking questions like he genuinely wants to know the answers. You can't meet his eyes when he does, you kind of just stare just past his shoulder, nod a little too much, sip your drink like it'll save you. Sunghoon notices. His palm smooths up your side, and he leans in, his lips brushing your ear when he murmurs, "Why won't you look at him?" You hesitate, maybe you'll lie or tell the truth. But then you see it—just beyond Sunghoon's shoulder, in the dim-lit corner of the living room.

Yunjin. Arguing with Heeseung. They're too far for you to hear anything, but her hands are moving fast, her expression sharp with something that doesn't belong at a birthday party. Heeseung's jaw is tight, head ducked, like he's trying to keep things quiet. You shift, body twitching in instinct. Sunghoon's lap suddenly feels like too much. You move to rise, but his hand presses against your thigh, holding you there like a lock. "Don't," he says lowly. Your breath catches. "I just—" But it's too late, Yunjin's eyes snap in your direction. You feel it before you see it—the freeze, the flicker of disdain that crosses her face. She's still mid-sentence with Heeseung, but her attention splinters, zeroing in on you, not just you, but you nestled in Sunghoon's lap like it's second nature, while Jake absentmindedly rubs circles into the arch of your foot, his fingers tangled around the heel he just remembered buying you. She looks at you like she's witnessing something sordid. Her lip curls before she catches herself.

Jake follows your gaze, eyes flicking to Yunjin. "Tch," he breathes out, a wry smirk forming. "Oh no. She's short-circuiting." Sunghoon doesn't say anything. He just tugs you a little closer, turning your body inward, his hand resting between your legs like it belongs there. You feel exposed. Not just physically, emotionally, like someone's cracked the glass and now everyone can see the dirt beneath. "She's gonna say something," you whisper. "Let her," Jake says, not even looking away from the way his fingers trace the shape of your ankle. "She was never good at behaving herself anyway." You don't know what he means by that, but you don't get the chance to ask. Because Yunjin is already making her way toward you, and Sunghoon hasn't let go of your thigh. And suddenly you remember why you never liked parties in the first place. She walks up like a storm that forgot how to be subtle, heels sharp against the marble as her eyes fix on you with a kind of disbelief that makes your stomach churn.

"What's this?" Yunjin demands, voice cutting clean through the music and conversation like it was always meant to be heard. "I'm sorry, I'm just—confused." You blink at her, already shrinking in Sunghoon's lap, but he doesn't let you move. His hand on your thigh tightens just slightly. "I mean..." She gestures vaguely, like the sight of you is something foul. "Weren't they—harassing you? Not that long ago? And now you're perched on him like some little—"

She falters. Her jaw clenches and you brace. "...Whore."

It's not even yelled. It's worse—it's quiet, mean and even measured. You gasp, feeling you whole body go cold all over, your mouth parting in shock. She's never spoken to you like that. Not in all your life. Not even when you fought as kids and now you don't even know what to say.

Sunghoon does. "Be careful," he says flatly, but the threat is unmistakable beneath his calm. Yunjin's head snaps toward him, fury building in the curve of her brow. "What is this? Huh?" She scoffs bitterly. "Are you fucking my cousin?" She says it loud enough for the room to tilt. Jake, who'd been lazily toying with the buckle on your heel, leans back on one elbow and smirks. "Why do you care so much?" It hits a nerve. You see it happen—Yunjin's entire body stills for a half-second, her expression shifting just enough that something unsettles in your chest. Like there's a history here you don't know, a door you've never been allowed to open. She covers quickly. "Because Heeseung will kill you," she says, pointing toward Sunghoon. "You know he will. If he finds out." Sunghoon's gaze drifts, slow and unfazed, to where Heeseung still stands where she left him, hands in his pockets, eyes watching but unreadable. "Hm," he hums. "He doesn't really look like he cares." Jake snorts. "Yeah, we were thinking the same. Pretty sure there's something else he'd actually care about." He says it at the exact moment Heeseung begins walking over. You feel it happen in slow motion—the drop in Yunjin's shoulders, the way her breath stalls, the look she throws Jake like he just put a loaded gun on the table and dared someone to pull the trigger.

You glance around. Jungwon, who had been sitting nearby, freezes where he is. His eyes flick between everyone, between you, Jake, Sunghoon, Yunjin, then down to his drink like it might explain what the fuck he just walked into. He's the only other person, besides you, not folded into whatever war is quietly being waged in plain sight.

Yunjin's voice is thin now. "Don't."

Heeseung's steps are slow and Jake's still smirking, but Sunghoon has gone still beneath you, like a predator who sees the snare coming. And you? You can feel your pulse in your throat, making you feel like something is about to break. Heeseung walks up like he didn't just argue with Yunjin in the hallway moments ago, like he didn't nearly rip his watch strap off adjusting it too tightly, jaw still twitching beneath the calm. "Hey," he greets, nodding at the three of you. His voice is level, his tone careful—too casual for the way his eyes keep flicking between where you're curled in Sunghoon's lap and where Jake is still playing idly with the ankle strap of your heel. Sunghoon speaks before anyone else can. "Heeseung," he says, calm as a lake, one hand sliding leisurely up your hip. "I'm kind of with Y/N now. Is that okay?" And then, he thrusts his hips up, enough to jostle you in his lap, enough to make a surprised squeak escape your lips. The sheer shamelessness of it makes Jake bark out a laugh, head tipping back against the couch.

Heeseung blinks. Once. A breath passes. Then, slowly, his brows lift—not in outrage, not in disapproval, but with a vague kind of curiosity. "Uh... sure?" He shrugs, as if that was all it took. "Yeah. Congrats or whatever.” Yunjin's face crumbles. She whirls to face him. "Are you serious right now?" Jake tilts his head, all mock-innocence. "See, Yunjin?" he says. "He doesn't care. So why do you?" That's the final nail. You can see it hit her all at once—the humiliation, the realization that whatever reaction she thought she could provoke just isn't coming. Not from Heeseung or any of them.

She doesn't say a word. Just spins on her heel and storms off, shoving through the crowd like she can disappear if she moves fast enough. You jolt, instinct kicking in. "I should—"

"No," Sunghoon says simply, tightening his hold. "You're not chasing after someone who just called you a whore." You freeze. He says it so calmly, like it's fact, like it's beneath even arguing about. Jake lets out a low hum beside you, fingers now trailing soft circles along the arch of your foot. "Sunghoon's right," he murmurs. "She said what she said." You exhale shakily. But then—Heeseung shifts, shoves his hands in his pockets and gives Sunghoon a look. "Can I talk to you for a sec?"

Sunghoon doesn't even hesitate. He lifts you without a word and places you in Jake's lap like you weigh nothing, like it's second nature. Jake grins, catching you easily, one arm looping around your waist. Heeseung doesn't even look twice. Not at the transfer, at you or at the soft gasp you let out when Jake's hand settles over the front of your stomach like it belongs there. He just turns and walks off, Sunghoon falling into step beside him. The second they're gone, Jake presses a kiss behind your ear. You don't even realize you're still tense until he speaks—low, warm, curling through you. "You okay, baby?" You nod, even though your chest feels tight, nerves still rattled. Jake pinches your inner thigh lightly. "You didn't even notice Jungwon's gone, huh?"

You glance at him. "What?" You blink, gaze flicking around. It's true. You hadn't even noticed him leave. Jake grins, sharp and too pleased with himself. "You've been too busy dripping all over Sunghoon's jeans to notice anything." You start to protest, but then his voice drops, low and filthy against your ear. "I know you're soaked. I could see it every time he moved his hand. You were clenching your thighs so tight for what, baby? You think we're not gonna take care of that the second we get you home?" Your breath hitches as you feel his smirk against your cheek. "Yeah. That's what I thought." Your breath stutters, lips parting like maybe you'll deny it or maybe beg, but Jake doesn't give you the chance. His hand trails from your thigh up, up, and then he slips his fingers between your legs.

Right there in his lap, under the sheer fabric of your dress, his fingertips press against your panties, soaked through, warm and slick with want. You jolt, eyes widening. Jake just hums, like he's satisfied with himself. His fingers don't linger. He gives one slow stroke and pulls away, eyes dark as he raises his hand up to show you the dampness on his fingers. "You don't even know what you do to us," he says softly. "Look at this. Fuck." You flush so hard it burns, mouth open but no words coming out. Jake leans in, brushing his lips to the shell of your ear, the faintest trace of amusement in his voice. "Think Sunghoon felt this too when you were grinding all over him like that?" He presses a kiss to your cheek. "You're lucky we're in public, baby."

Jake's fingers still glisten when he lifts them and you know what he's about to do before he even does it. You shake your head, weakly, breath caught somewhere between protest and anticipation. But he's already slipping his fingers into his mouth, eyes never leaving yours. His lips close around them with slow deliberation, tongue curling, sucking your taste off with a soft pop when he pulls them out again. He looks wrecked—pupils blown, lips parted, smiling like he's just won something. You're barely holding on, heart thudding in your throat, when a shadow falls over the two of you.

"Wanna head out?" Sunghoon's voice cuts in smoothly, low and direct, like he didn't just interrupt something that was about to spiral. "I've got something to handle with Heeseung, but I'll meet you at home." Jake answers before you can even breathe. "Yes," he says quickly, hand already sliding possessively over your knee. "We're going." But you hesitate, glancing up at Sunghoon, eyes searching his unreadable expression. Something about the way he said handle something makes your stomach twist. And maybe you don't realize it, but you're biting your lip, worried. Sunghoon notices. His features soften almost imperceptibly as he leans down just a bit, voice dipping into something only you'll catch.

"It's alright, baby," he murmurs. "Go with Jake. I'll meet you at home." He presses a kiss to your temple, warm, reassuring and final, he straightens, already walking off before you can argue. Jake's hand slides up your back and pulls you in closer.

"You worry too much," he mutters, almost smug again now that Sunghoon's gone. "C'mon. I already need you again." And just like that, the air shifts again. The front door clicks shut behind you and Jake doesn't waste a second. His hand wraps around your wrist firmly, leading you out of the house like you're on borrowed time. You cast one last glance over your shoulder. The house is still humming behind you. Music bleeding into the night air. Voices echoing off the brick. But Sunghoon's already gone, disappeared somewhere deeper inside with Heeseung, and the absence of him makes everything around you feel a little too loud. A little too chaotic.

Jake doesn't say a word until you're outside. He unlocks his blue Jeep Wrangler with one sharp click, opens the passenger side for you, and ushers you in with a look that borders on don't test me. You scramble in, clutching the hem of your dress when it rides up, only to feel Jake's hand on your thigh again the moment he slides into the driver's seat. He doesn't start the car right away. You feel his eyes on you first, burning, frustrated, reverent. Then his hand slides higher, then higher, until his knuckles brush just beneath your dress. "You're still wet," he mutters, more to himself than to you. You nod before you even realize it.

His head thumps back against the headrest and he groans. "Fuck, I can't—Hoon’s so fucking slow about everything. I don't know how he does it. You were in my lap for two seconds and I almost lost it." You try to tease him, "You always almost lose it." But he's not laughing. He leans in suddenly, hand sliding to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss that's messy and rushed and a little too hot for the passenger seat of his car. You whimper into his mouth and Jake swears against your lips. "I was about to fuck you right there in front of him." Your breath catches. "He just sits there. Like composed. Like he didn't watch me taste you with his fingers in your mouth last week—like he doesn't know." He shakes his head, pulling back only slightly, thumb dragging along your bottom lip.

"I'm not like him, you know?" he says, quieter now. "I don't do that... waiting shit. I want you now." The engine roars to life under his hand. "Seatbelt," he adds, but it sounds more like a growl than a reminder. You barely manage to click it in before he's backing out of the driveway, one hand on the wheel, the other firmly gripping your thigh. Streetlights flicker across his face as he speeds down the empty road, and you catch the way his jaw clenches—tight, impatient. Jake is chaos, restless, always on the verge of something dangerous, Sunghoon is a storm you never see coming. And you’re stuck in the middle as the fuse between them.

Jake doesn't even bother locking the Jeep when you arrive. He's out and rounding the car before you've even reached for the handle, pulling your door open with one hand and tugging you toward the building with the other. There's urgency in everything he does—his pace, his touch, the way his fingers keep twitching against your wrist like he's resisting the urge to stop and press you up against the elevator wall. The second the door to their apartment swings open, it hits the wall with a thud. Jake doesn't care. He's already kissing you. Clumsy. Messy. His mouth finds yours the moment you're inside, and he moans into it like he's already losing control. It's not a soft sound. It's greedy, almost needy. You can feel how badly he wants it, how wrecked he already is just from kissing you. He's all hands—up your sides, over your hips, under your dress. You barely get a word in before your feet leave the ground.

"Jake—" you gasp, arms winding around his neck as he lifts you. "I got you," he breathes, kissing along your jaw now, stumbling toward the hallway. "Fuck—I got you, baby." The walk through the apartment is clumsy at best. Jake's grip on your waist is iron-tight, his mouth never straying far from your neck, pressing wet kisses under your ear, murmuring things that don't even make sense, just sounds of want, of need, of everything he's been holding in all night. His fingers fumble with the zipper of your dress, like he doesn't know whether to undress you here in the hallway or wait until the bedroom.

"Why are you so—fuck—soft everywhere?" he mutters against your throat, and it's half accusation, half worship. "You know I can't handle it." He kicks the bedroom door open, not even his own, you realize hazily, as your back hits the edge of Sunghoon's bed. Your breath catches in your throat, but Jake doesn't notice. Or maybe he does, and he just doesn't care.

His hands are already dragging your dress up your thighs. "You wore this for me, didn't you?" he breathes, like he needs to believe it. "Tell me you did."

Your lips part, but the words come out soft. "I did."

Jake stares at you in awe like you just handed him the heavens and the earth. "I fucking love you." You can't even respond before his mouth is back on yours, his hands sliding down the backs of your thighs, gripping tight. He groans as he lifts you and lays you back on the bed, one knee braced between yours, nudging your legs apart. He hovers above you, forehead to forehead, breathing heavy. His eyes are blown out with want, but he's not moving fast now, not anymore. Now, he's just looking at you. "Do you even know," he says, "how fucking pretty you are when you let me in like this?"

He runs a palm down your side, slow and firm, until his fingers skim the hem of your panties. He doesn't yank them off, not yet, just traces the edge, pressing the lightest touch where you ache most. You jerk under his touch. Jake moans at your reaction. "Shit. That's all it takes, huh?"

He dips his fingers under the fabric and slides them between your folds, slow, testing, and groans when he feels the wetness pooling there. "Oh my God." The groan that leaves him is obscene. "Sunghoon's gonna kill me," he mutters, half-laughing as he leans down and kisses your cheek, your jaw, your collarbone. "But I don't care. I can't wait anymore. Can't." He's talking more to himself now, barely coherent. Then he's falling back onto the bed, eyes glassy, lips red, his voice lower now, almost pleading. "Come here." He tugs you closer by your hips. "Sit on my face."

You blink. "What?" Jake lets out a breathless laugh, voice curling into a grin even as his eyes burn serious. "You heard me. Don't act shy now, not after the way you were whispering in Hoon's ear with his hand on your thigh like that." You feel your heart pound, legs unsteady. "Jake—"

"I wanna make you feel good," he says. "Need to. Don't you get it? I'll lose my mind if I don't taste you right now." He's so eager. So sincere in the worst way. You try to keep your balance as he pulls you up over him, backlit by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Jake's hands never leave your body, dragging you gently forward until your knees are planted beside his head, thighs trembling with anticipation. He looks up at you like you're everything he's ever wanted. "Please," he whispers, eyes locking with yours. "Be good for me."

Your breath catches as you lower yourself slowly onto him, and Jake groans the moment your heat grazes his tongue, hands gripping your thighs like you're divine, like he's anchoring himself to reality through you alone. Jake looks up at you from below like he's been waiting for this, like nothing else truly matters. His fingers trail up the back of your thighs slowly, not rushing, not even speaking. Just waiting for you to settle into place. The warmth of his breath against your skin makes your stomach flutter, nerves tight and trembling. You lower yourself gradually, hesitant, but he doesn't pull—just holds you steady, his hands open and patient on your hips. The moment your pussy brushes his lips, he exhales like he's been holding his breath for minutes.

You're not sure when your hands found his hair, but they do, threading in soft, slow strokes through the strands as his mouth opens against you. At first, it's light, just the gentle press of his lips and the lazy flick of his tongue, almost like he's memorizing. His grip tightens, grounding you with just enough pressure to keep you still. "Ah!—Ja—"

He groans lowly, the sound vibrating against your skin, and it makes your entire body shudder. His hands flex at your hips, encouraging you to move, more, deeper, harder. "Yeah, that's it," he murmurs, breathless against you. "Just like that... come on." Your thighs tighten around his head as you grind down again, unable to help the shaky moan that slips from your lips. "Jake! Please!" He doesn't let up. If anything, he holds you tighter, more devoted in the way he pulls you closer, like he can't bear even an inch of distance between his mouth and the warm pulse of your body. Every breath is shaky, every movement desperate. Your legs tense. You can't help the way you shift forward, barely grinding down into his mouth, and he responds with a hum so soft you almost miss it. His arms wrap fully around your waist now, anchoring you closer. He starts to move you, slow and controlled, as if he's savoring the weight of you, the way you tremble. There's a quiet desperation in the way he works his mouth against you—never frantic, but focused. His eyes flutter shut, brow creasing in concentration. The kind of devotion he shows you in this moment feels dangerous. Like he's addicted, like nothing else could ever be enough.

Your breathing hitches as your hips move again, your choice this time, and his hands slide further, brushing up your back, fingers pressing lightly between your shoulder blades. The gesture is tender, grounding. He doesn't say anything else, but the look in his eyes when they open again is a plea. You grip tighter to his hair, tilting his head just so. You whisper something—his name, maybe, or just a broken sound—and his mouth chases the movement of your body like instinct. "Jakey! Uh uhn," you gasp, "I'm—I'm so close," you whisper, arching as the pressure builds. His palms smooth up your spine in a steady rhythm, anchoring you, calming and arousing all at once. And when you shake in his hold, trembling, he just tilts his face up, unbothered and patient, and takes every last ounce of you with a quiet, satisfied hum, not even flinching when you press down and shudder through it, clutching at.

You barely realize he hasn't taken a breath until he finally exhales, lips still brushing warm against your skin, his fingers still stroking softly at your waist like he's in no rush to let you go. "Jaeyun—" you breathe, already trembling from the comedown, but he doesn't stop. His hand stays right there, coaxing another slow rise from you, pulling your pleasure taut again. "I'm not done," he murmurs, voice rough and hungry. He kisses up your thigh as you lift off him slightly, still panting, still dazed. He's flushed, lips wet, eyes darker than you've ever seen them. "C'mere," he says, guiding you down to straddle his lap this time, pulling you into a deep, messy kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue, feel the eager pull of his hands under your thighs as he ruts up slowly against you, still fully clothed.

That's when the door opens, making the air shift instantly. Jake doesn't stop kissing you, not at first. He moans into your mouth, lost in it, until he hears the soft click of the door closing again behind whoever walked in. And then a quiet voice breaks the haze, "So this is what I come home to?" You jolt, your head turning, lips still slick from Jake's mouth, and your eyes meet Sunghoon's. He's leaning against the wall like he's been standing there longer than you realized. His eyes are dark, unreadable, drifting slowly from your flushed face to the way Jake's hands are gripping your waist. You suddenly feel everything, the sticky mess between your thighs, the sharp press of Jake's belt buckle under you, the faint tremble in your knees.

Jake sighs against your shoulder, lazy and smug. "You said to take her home." Sunghoon hums, not in amusement or anger, but something in between, something sharp and quiet. "I didn't say ruin her in my bed." You feel Jake's fingers flex where they rest on your hips, but he doesn't argue. He just grins. "You're the one who said she looked pretty tonight," Jake says, his voice low. "You should've known better."

There's a pause. You can't look at either of them. Then, "Did she cum?" Sunghoon asks. The question makes your stomach tighten, shame blooming in your chest. But Jake only chuckles, tilting his head to look up at you, brushing his thumb over the curve of your cheek. "She did," he says softly. "But I think she could do it again, don't you?" Sunghoon pushes off the wall. The way he walks over is unhurried. The way he looks at you is careful, like he's deciding what to do with you now. His hand brushes your arm, fingers skating up the side of your neck until he tilts your chin toward him. Jake doesn't move, he just watches, eyes half-lidded, breath slowing. "You okay?" Sunghoon asks you.

You nod.

"Words."

"Yes." He studies you for a second longer. Then he leans in, not to kiss you, but to press his lips to the corner of your mouth. Gentle and possessive. "Good," he murmurs. "Now get off him." Jake lets out a frustrated breath, but he doesn't fight it cause he knows Sunghoon is in control now. His hands don't leave your waist though. You feel the way he twitches beneath you, the faint roll of his hips like he's chasing friction, even now. He wants you, he always wants you, but it's Sunghoon's presence that stills him. That centers the room again. Sunghoon stands just behind, one hand sliding into his pocket, his other resting lightly on the edge of the bedframe. "Were you going to make her ride you?" he asks Jake quietly. Jake glances up at you, then back to Sunghoon. There's no guilt, just honesty. "Yeah."

Sunghoon hums, slow and deep. His gaze cuts to you.

"She looks tired." You blink. "I'm not—"

"Shh," he interrupts, not unkindly, and brings a finger to his lips. "I didn't ask." Jake watches you with blown pupils, his chest rising and falling like he's just run a mile. He doesn't say anything, just waits. Sunghoon's voice dips a little lower. "Do it right, Jaeyun." Jake groans at that, like the words alone are a reward. He sits up just slightly, lips brushing your collarbone, eyes fluttering closed at the praise. "Yes, sir," he murmurs, almost to himself.

"And be gentle with her. Okay?" You feel the flush race up your chest, spreading over your neck, your ears. Jake presses his mouth to your shoulder like he's trying to calm himself down, whispering soft nothings between the kisses. "I can ride him, Hoonie" you say quietly, voice shaky but sincere. "I want to. I'm not—"

Sunghoon tilts his head, dark eyes narrowing just slightly as he moves closer. His fingers brush your chin again, thumb pressing against your bottom lip this time. "No," he murmurs. "Not this time." He leans down, mouth nearly grazing your ear. "Let Jake take care of you, hm?"

Your breath catches, knees tightening on either side of Jake's hips. Jake notices. He grins and cups the back of your thigh, fingers slipping higher. "Lay back, baby," Jake says, voice still rough from earlier. "Let me take care of you." You're melting into it before you even know it, back arching, thighs trembling, the room closing in around just the three of you. Sunghoon still hasn't sat down, still hasn't touched beyond your face, but you can feel the weight of his presence like a second heat. Jake guides you down with gentle hands and even gentler eyes, and you hear him whisper against your neck, "Perfect girl." And behind him, Sunghoon finally speaks again, quiet and unwavering.

"Don't stop until she cries."

Jake settles over you like a promise, warm, flushed, breathing heavily as he kisses his way down your jaw. You feel every bit of him, the heat of his body pressed against yours, the roughness of his voice murmuring in your ear as his fingers trail over your waist. "So fucking soft," he breathes, kissing down your throat. Across the room, the old leather chair creaks. You tilt your head just enough to catch a glimpse of Sunghoon lowering himself into it, one long leg crossing over the other, fingers laced loosely in his lap. He doesn't say anything, you know he doesn't need to. The atmosphere changes the moment he sits down. Jake feels it too, you can tell by the way his hands still on your body for just a second, by the deep breath he takes against your shoulder before looking over his shoulder and locking eyes with Sunghoon.

Then he turns back to you, slower now. "Look at me," he says softly. His fingers brush your cheek. "You with me, baby?" You nod. "Good girl." He kisses you, open-mouthed and heady, and as he shifts down between your legs again, he parts them with careful hands like he's opening a gift. His cock rubs between your folds, and he groans, low and ragged. "Fuck, so wet," he murmurs, dragging himself through the mess he already made earlier, and glancing back toward Sunghoon again. "She's dripping." Sunghoon gives a slow nod. "She should be." Jake doesn't need more instruction than that. He lines himself up and rests his weight on one forearm, his free hand still petting your thigh, brushing hair from your face. His lips ghost over your ear. "Tell me if it's too much," he says.

You nod again, voice gone somewhere too far to reach. He pushes in slowly, so slowly, keeping eye contact with you until you gasp and clutch his shoulders. "Fuck—" Jake moans, lips parting as he bottoms out, hips shaking just a little. "You feel unreal. So warm, so tight—fuck." You hear the leather shift again. Sunghoon's watching. You know he is, but he hasn't said anotner word. Jake pulls back, then rocks in again, shallow, precise thrusts that make your legs tighten around his waist.

His voice breaks again. "Taking me so good, princess. So good. You were made for this, you know that? This pussy—fuck, it's ours." He leans down, presses a kiss to your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. "I need you," he whispers. "So bad. Always do." His pace is unhurried but deep, dragging every inch of himself through you, letting you feel everything. One of his hands slips between your bodies, finding your clit, pressing soft, slow circles. You gasp, hips jumping. "Oh shit!"

"That's it," he pants. "Let me make you cum. Come on, pretty girl. Just for me." You cry out softly, fingers digging into his back, and behind him, he knows you're close and he moans like he's proud, like it's the highest compliment he's ever received. He kisses you hard. "You're so good for me. You gonna cum, baby? Gonna soak me?" You nod frantically, the build-up sharp and fast, pressure mounting under his hand, under his hips. The moment's stretching, tightening, ready to snap. And as it does, Jake groans your name, holding you through it as your legs shake and your eyes squeeze shut.

But through your moans and breathless whimpers, you still hear Sunghoon, steady, observant, and controlled.

"Think you can give him another one?" Jake's body is already moving, hips rolling into you with a steady, deliberate rhythm, but now his eyes keep straying, flicking toward the chair in the corner where Sunghoon sits, silent and composed. The man hasn't said anotner word, but he doesn't really have to. Just being there changes the way Jake touches you, the way he moves inside you.

At first, it had been about you, about the way your lips parted, the way you whispered his name in breathless moans. But now Jake's losing focus. His breath stutters every time he feels Sunghoon's gaze on him, burning low and unreadable. Jake starts fucking you harder without realizing it, like he's performing now, or proving something. The weight of Sunghoon's silence makes him want to impress. You notice the shift too, how Jake goes deeper, the way he grits his teeth. His hand wraps tighter around your thigh. He's chasing something, and it's not just your second orgasm. He groans again, forehead brushing against yours, and you feel how wound up he is. It's not just need, there's reverence there.

Jake had never considered himself submissive, well that was until he met Sunghoon. To Jake, there just seemed to be something about Sunghoon that made him want to be that way for him, made him want to do everything Sunghoon said, even before he said it. If Jake believed in religion, Sunghoon would be his god, maybe that would explain why he's currently fucking his cock into you but his mind is elsewhere. His mind is entirely on Sunghoon in particular, where he's sat across the bed from you two. Jake is moaning like it hurts, he's starving for praise like that might be the only thing keeping him alive.

"Sunghoon," he gasps, hips rocking into you with enough force to jolt the headboard, "fuck—look at me. Please—please look at me." Sunghoon doesn't flinch. He's still. Unbothered. Sitting in the corner chair like he's been there forever, long legs spread now, jaw in his hand, eyes flicking lazily across the room—but not to Jake. Never to Jake. Jake whines, desperate and pretty, breath fanning across your collarbone as he buries himself deeper, chasing something he'll never get from the man who made him this way. "Am I doing it right?" he pants, fucking you harder. "Tell me I'm doing it right—tell me I'm good—please—"

Sunghoon hums. His gaze lands on you this time. Controlled. Careful. "You're such a slut for praise, Jake," he says, voice low and faintly amused. "Shouldn't you be asking her that?" And Jake does. So fast. So broken. "Baby—" His voice cracks. "Am I good? Am I making you feel good?" You try to answer, lips parting on a moan—but Sunghoon stops you before a sound can fall. "Don't answer him." Your body tightens under Jake's, your back arching instinctively toward the voice that denies and commands you.

And Jake feels it. "Fuck," he grits, pulling back to look at your face, but you're already looking past him. Already whining for someone else.

It doesn't matter that Jake had already pulled two orgasms out of you, with his mouth, with his words, with the frantic way his fingers curled like he was searching for something only Sunghoon could name. It doesn't matter that you're still trembling underneath him, that your skin is hot and your limbs boneless from how hard you came the last time.

Because now Sunghoon is here. Watching. And somehow that makes everything feel different. Jake feels it too, the shift in the air, the weight of Sunghoon's presence behind every stroke. He's still buried deep inside you, his chest slick and flushed, and his pace is no longer thoughtful or controlled. It's gone, whatever composure he had left. His thrusts are rough now, fast and unforgiving, like he's trying to chase something only Sunghoon can give him permission to have. "Jake," you breathe, nails dragging lightly down his back as he keeps rutting into you. "Wait—" You whimper again, barely able to breathe through the rhythm, your body rocked back into the bed with every movement. "Slow down, please—" But he doesn't, he probably doesn't even hear you.

His hand fists the sheets beside your head, and his other grabs your thigh and hikes it higher like he needs more of you, like he could crawl inside you and still not get enough. That's when your head tilts, eyes catching the one person who always sees everything. Sunghoon hasn't moved from the chair. His elbows are on the armrests now, fingers steepled under his chin. He looks calm, maddeningly calm, but you know better.

Your eyes plead with him silently, lips parted, breath shaky. One more thrust from Jake and you gasp, "Hoon—" It's barely a whisper. But it's all he really needs.

In an instant, Sunghoon is up. He doesn't raise his voice. He doesn't even look at Jake at first. He comes to your side, brushing his knuckles softly over your cheek, grounding you before turning his head to the man still buried inside you. "That's enough," he says, voice low but firm. Controlled. Jake stills. It's like a switch flips in him—his hips freezing, his chest heaving with ragged breaths, but his eyes glassy as they lock onto Sunghoon like he's been waiting for that command all along. "I didn't mean to," Jake mumbles, his voice hoarse and desperate. "I know," Sunghoon replies, cool and quiet, like he's the only one in the room who understands Jake completely. He slips his hand down, gentle where Jake was frenzied, fingers brushing over your thigh and easing it down. "But she asked you to slow down. Didn't she?"

Jake swallows hard, nodding like a reprimanded boy.

Sunghoon's hand lingers on your knee. "You alright, love?" You nod back, heart thudding, already calmer just from his presence. Jake's still inside you, but now he isn't moving, he’s waiting, watching Sunghoon like he needs permission to breathe. That's when it becomes clear to you like it always does—Jake might be the one fucking you, but it's Sunghoon who hold all the power. And he always has been.

"I can keep going," you whisper, still catching your breath, voice fragile but filled with certainty. "I want to." Jake exhales like he's been given permission to live again, but you're not looking at him. Your eyes are locked on Sunghoon. "I want you to touch me too," you say, barely above a breath. Your fingers curl at the sheets, as if grounding yourself to keep from pulling him in by force. "Please."

It's the only word that finally breaks him. You see the moment his composure wavers, his eyes flinch, his jaw tightens, and for the first time tonight, Sunghoon hesitates. He's never been able to deny you anything. Not when you ask like that. Not when your voice sounds that soft, that raw. A long silence stretches between the three of you, thick with your need, Jake's restless grip still holding your hips in place, and Sunghoon's stare flickering across your face, from your eyes, to your swollen lips, to the soft, quivering part of you that just begged for him.

Then, finally, Sunghoon gives a quiet nod. "Get on top," he murmurs, voice steady again, but you can feel the shift underneath it. Jake nearly groans in relief as you move, lifting your legs and sliding up to straddle him. His hands find your thighs immediately, squeezing like he's been starving, but it's your eyes on Sunghoon again, watching him sit at the edge of the bed now, close enough to touch, close enough to kiss.

And so he does. The first press of his mouth to yours makes your whole body flinch, not in surprise, but in something sharper. His lips are slow, claiming, so deep that you feel your toes curl as your hips rock down on Jake. Jake's moans muffle in your throat as Sunghoon kisses you again. And again. Every time you roll your hips forward on Jake, Sunghoon meets you with his mouth. His tongue slides past your lips like he's determined to keep you tethered to him no matter who's inside of you. The heat of Jake's hands, the way he moves beneath you, it all melts together in the haze of Sunghoon's kiss.

You try to reach for more of him, hands desperate at the hem of his shirt, tugging, frustrated that he's still fully clothed while you're bare, being touched and watched and used. Your fingertips find the warm skin under the fabric, sliding under his shirt, desperate to feel more. Sunghoon doesn't stop you. He lets you feel. Lets you explore. Even if he hasn't moved to undress, even if he's holding back, you aren't. And your hips don't stop moving. Not once. You ride Jake slow, languid, your rhythm set by the rise and fall of Sunghoon's mouth on yours, the ebb and flow of his tongue pulling you under like a tide. It makes you dizzy, being loved like this by one man while kissing the other, being watched and touched and given the space to want everything.

And god, you want everything.

Jake pants beneath you, clutching at your thighs like he might fall through the mattress, and you never break the kiss, not even as you start to tremble again, not even as Sunghoon finally whispers, voice low against your lips, "Just like that, princess." You barely realize how fast it's building again until your thighs begin to shake. Jake's grip on you has turned possessive, hands gripping your hips like he's guiding you through the end of the world. He's a mess beneath you, all panting breaths and ruined whimpers, his head thrown back against the pillow as he mouths your name like a prayer he's barely worthy of.

And you, you're still tangled in Sunghoon. His lips trail slow and steady along your jaw now, your neck, your shoulder, mouth warm and coaxing even as his hands stay maddeningly still on your thighs, letting Jake have you while he simply watches. Letting you ache for more of him, and only giving you his voice in return. "You're so perfect," he murmurs against your skin. "So, so pretty when you take it like this." Jake's moan cuts through the room high, broken. “Nghh—I—M’gonna cum!” You can feel the tension coil in him, that telltale snap of his rhythm turning erratic beneath you. He's close. You know it. Sunghoon knows it too.

"Look at him," Sunghoon murmurs in your ear, dragging his lips just below it, "he's already breaking." And Jake is, shaking, crying out, hips jolting up once, twice, a third time before he completely breaks under you, spilling inside with a noise so wrecked it makes your head spin. His arms wrap tight around your waist, pulling you flush to his chest, as if he doesn't know what else to cling to but you. That's when it happens. As Jake's high crashes into him and his body goes slack, his hand slides blindly out, not even looking, just reaching and palms over Sunghoon's clothed cock. Just once. Just a rough, mindless squeeze like instinct, like habit. Sunghoon finally breathes like it hurt. His hand shoots out to Jake's wrist, gripping it tight.

"Jake." It's a warning. Low and dangerous. But Jake only smiles, breathless and utterly undone. He nuzzles your chest like he doesn't have a single thought in his head, eyes glazed, body limp beneath you. "Sorry," he murmurs, eyes fluttering open just barely as he looks up at Sunghoon. "Couldn't help it." You're still catching your breath when you look at Sunghoon, and the heat you find there steals whatever air you had left. Jake's chest rises and falls beneath you in exhausted waves, his eyes barely open as he blinks up at the ceiling, dazed. Your body's still trembling faintly, skin damp and flushed, caught somewhere between overstimulation and deep, floating warmth. But it's Sunghoon's hands that ground you again, firm at your waist, lifting you before you can even register the shift.

You gasp softly, clinging on instinct. Your arms loop around his shoulders. Your legs wrap around his waist. And he catches all of you like he was always meant to.

He doesn't flinch when he feels it, the wetness between your thighs painting into the front of his clothes. Jake's cum, still leaking, smearing onto him with every shift of your weight. Sunghoon doesn't even blink. He only adjusts you a little higher in his arms, one hand cupping the back of your thigh, the other firm at the base of your spine, keeping you close. "Come on," he says, glancing at Jake without stopping his stride. His voice is quiet, but it leaves no room for negotiation. "You too." Jake groans but pushes himself up slowly, limbs still boneless as he stumbles to follow. And Sunghoon, ever composed and in control, carries you straight to the bathroom, never once loosening his grip. Never once looking away. Because you're done for now, yes.

The water is long gone now, turned off with soft, sluggish movements, steam lingering in the air. Towels exchanged between fingers like unspoken reassurances. No words needed. Not yet. You're clean, finally. A little sore. A little dizzy. But warm. Sunghoon's hoodie is draped over your shoulders, sleeves long enough to swallow your fingers. Jake had laughed watching you tug it on, muttering that Sunghoon always brings out your bratty side, but his voice was half-asleep even then, eyes puffy and red around the edges.

So now here you are. Tucked in Jake's bed instead of Sunghoon's, a rare deviation none of you had energy to question. The sheets still carry Jake's detergent, softer, citrusy, a little too clean for how he usually acts and your limbs are caught in a tangle of body heat.

Sunghoon lies on his back beside you, one arm folded under his head, the other stretched along the curve of your side. You're tucked in close, nose nearly brushing his shoulder as you breathe him in. His pulse is slow under your cheek. His fingers lightly drag up and down your spine, rhythmic, gentle, like he's drawing shapes just for himself. Jake, meanwhile, is curled up on the other side of you, head heavy on your stomach, cheek pressed to your bare skin. You're stroking his hair without even realizing it, combing the strands back gently as his breathing deepens, softer and slower with each pass. The room is quiet. The kind of quiet where the world feels far away. Just three of you, bodies finally settled, the ache of heat and noise replaced with something heavier and tender.

You stare at the ceiling for a moment. Then at Sunghoon. "Can I ask something?" His fingers pause for a split second before continuing, slower now. "Mm."

"The thing earlier," you murmur, voice barely above a whisper. "With Yunjin. What was that?" There's a pause. A very long one. You feel the shift in his breath before you hear the words. "It's nothing," he says finally, calm. Even. "I'll tell you later." But something in the way he says it makes your stomach turn. Sunghoon never lies, but he does withhold. And this doesn't feel like nothing. Not when his jaw ticks like that. Not when his hand drifts up your spine again, a little tighter, like he's grounding himself. Not when he won't look at you, even now.

You nod, because you don't want to push. But you don't miss how Jake stirs slightly at the sound, how he snuggles closer, pressing a kiss to your skin without even lifting his head. He's already halfway into sleep, and you know he won't remember it. But it's comfort. His way of keeping you close. So you let it go. For now.

Even if the silence feels heavier this time. Even as Sunghoon's fingers slide higher and rest at the nape of your neck. Even as you try to believe him. Even as the weight of that later starts to hang in the air between you.

The first thing you hear is the quiet hum of Jake's voice, muffled, amused, talking shit over his headset somewhere in the living room. You recognize the cadence of it, the rise and fall of his tone, the clack of his controller buttons, the way he leans into his game with too much energy for this hour. The second thing you feel is warmth. Heavy, slow warmth. Sunghoon. You're tucked into his chest, half-under the covers, skin against skin, the room still dim and quiet. The sunlight is creeping in just enough to make his collarbones glow. His breathing is steady and warm at your nape. One of his legs is thrown over both of yours. His arm is firm around your middle, too firm, actually. You shift slowly, turning your face into his chest before you lift your head just slightly, blinking your eyes open. There's a moment where you forget everything else. Your body is still sore in a pleasant way. Your mind is fogged with sleep. There's no urgency.

You stretch, or at least, you try to. You start to lift your arm, shift your hips to sit up and that's when you feel his arm tightens around you like a vice. His hand flattens against your side, keeping you exactly where you are. "Sunghoon?" you whisper, voice thick with sleep. "Don't go yet." His voice is rough and quiet. "Just for a little longer." You glance up and he's already awake, eyes barely open, lashes low and heavy. His mouth is slack and soft from sleep, but the grip he has on you is anything but. You try to smile. "I was just gonna brush my teeth."

"I don't care."

"Okay..."

"Talk to me," he says next, a little firmer. "Anything."

You pause. The tone is familiar, the softness threaded under something else. A kind of vulnerability he rarely shows unless it's quiet like this, unless you're alone.

You hum. "Like...about what?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Why?" He exhales. Shifts just enough to bury his nose in your hair. "You already know," he says quietly. "Your voice calms me." And he's right. You do know. This isn't new. It's happened more than a few times, after hard days, after silence-filled dinners, after that one fight with his father where he didn't even speak for hours. You remember the first time, when he told you in a low voice that your talking about anything, about everything, made him feel like the world wasn't closing in. You'd said you were honored. You still are. So you relax back into him, shifting your head slightly against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. You let your eyes close again.

And then you speak.

"You always say that," you whisper, voice low as you rest your hand against Sunghoon's chest, just over his heart. His eyes are closed again now, and his lashes twitch a little when you brush your thumb across his skin. "That my voice calms you." Your lips quirk slightly as you exhale a fond breath. "But you never tell me why. Is it the tone? The dumb things I say? Or just because I don't shut up when you need a distraction? You smile to yourself when he makes a quiet hum something between agreement and a dozing sigh. "I could talk about the weather, you know," you say lightly. "Like, it's supposed to rain today. Probably later. Jake's gonna forget he left the top of his Jeep down and get mad about it and pretend it wasn't his fault."

You feel the faintest breath of amusement in Sunghoon's chest, even as his grip slackens just a little. "Or I could tell you about the list of groceries we forgot to buy again. Or how Jake definitely used my shampoo even though he swore he didn't." You brush a gentle hand over Sunghoon's hair. "Or how we really need to wash your sheets after last night but we're all too lazy. Or how..." you trail off softly, your voice thinning as his breathing deepens. You pause to look up at him eyes closed, jaw relaxed, the smallest crease between his brows finally softening. You press a kiss just below his collarbone. "I'll still be here," you whisper. "Always."

And then carefully, slowly, you untangle yourself from his limbs. He stirs for a second, brows furrowing as if his body knows you're leaving even if he doesn't fully wake. But you hush him softly, running your fingers through his hair once more. "I'll be right back." Then you slip out from under the blanket, padding quietly across the cool floor, and make your way down the hall toward the soft noise of game chatter and clicking buttons. Just as you suspected, Jake is curled up on the couch in the living room, headset askew, legs sprawled wide and controller in hand. He's in a hoodie and boxers, hair still messy from sleep, and the moment he sees you, his whole face lights up.

"There's my girl," he beams, dropping the controller to the side and opening his arms. You don't even hesitate, you crawl straight into his lap, straddling him in a tight hug as he wraps you up with both arms. He smells like your body wash and leftover cologne, and you breathe him in as he peppers kisses along your cheeks. "Hi, hi, hi," he murmurs between kisses. "God, you're warm. You sleep okay, baby? You sore?" You nod into his shoulder, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck. "A little sore," you admit softly. "But good sore." Jake grins against your cheek and pulls back just enough to cup your face in his hands. "Yeah?" he says, tilting his head. "You need me to kiss it better?" You laugh softly, tapping his chest.

"Maybe later," you say. "Sunghoon's still asleep."

Jake gives you a look like when is he not? “We should make breakfast.” You say, but instantly almost regret saying we.

The kitchen is quiet at first, just the low clatter of pans and the hum of the fridge. You're barefoot as you move around the space with practiced ease, cracking eggs and flipping pancakes with a gentle rhythm.Jake's at your side, or more accurately, in your way. "Wait, wait, baby—should I stir this?" he asks, already grabbing the whisk in a bowl you very much do not need stirred. "No—Jake, that's pancake batter, it's done."

"Oh," he says, sheepish, setting the whisk down like it's fragile. "Well, what about the toast? Should I flip that?"

You pause. "You don't flip toast, Jake."

"Oh." You shoot him a look over your shoulder, and he holds his hands up in surrender, grinning like he's already planning his next move. "I'm helping."

"You're talking," you counter. "Very loudly. While putting things in the wrong place. Which is... the opposite of helping." Jake leans into the counter with a whine. "I'm moral support."

"Sure you are."

"You're bossy when you cook," he says with a smug tilt of his lips. "It kinda turns me on." You shoot him a flat stare, eyebrows raised. "Oh my god," you mutter, jabbing a finger toward the stool behind him. "Sit. Down. Don't touch anything else." His eyes gleam like he's just been handed the best gift of his life. "Yes, chef." He drops into the seat with exaggerated obedience, resting his chin in his hands, staring at you with something between adoration and mischief. "Tell me what to do next, I'll be so good." You roll your eyes and smirk as you turn back to the stove. "You're such a sub." Jake laughs, then pushes up to his feet just long enough to wrap his arms around your waist and kiss the corner of your mouth. "Only for you." “And Sunghoon.”

The moment is cut short by the sound of a low, groggy voice from the hallway. "It's way too early for you to be turned on, Jake," Sunghoon grumbles, padding into the kitchen with hair still messy from sleep. He rubs at his eyes with the back of his hand and leans over to kiss you, a slow, languid kiss that tastes like morning and comfort. Then he tilts his head and breathes in, eyes fluttering half open. "Smells good." Before you can respond, he slips his arms around your waist and lifts you off the ground, placing you on the counter like you weigh nothing. The kiss that follows is just as effortless slow and soft, his hands firm at your hips, lips brushing yours again and again until you sigh into his mouth.

Jake lets out a dramatic sigh. Sunghoon turns without missing a beat, leans in, and kisses Jake too. Just a soft press of lips, but it's affectionate and familiar and Jake grins like it's nothing new. "Hi," Sunghoon murmurs, then turns back to you, gently grabbing your foot and rubbing it in his hand. "You sore?" The question is quiet, spoken like he already knows the answer. You nod just slightly, and his thumb brushes over your ankle, kneading a spot there as Jake scoots closer to run his hand down your thigh. "You both asked the same thing," you say with a sleepy smile, watching them move around you like you're the center of gravity.

Jake beams. "Team effort." You lean your head back against the cabinet and breathe in the warmth of it all, the scent of eggs and pancakes, the press of Sunghoon's palm on your skin, the sound of Jake humming some off-key tune as he steals a piece of fruit from the cutting board. It's so domestic. So easy and so far from where you started. The three of you tucked in the glow of the morning—half-eaten pancakes on the counter, music playing low from Jake's phone, and your legs swinging gently where Sunghoon set you on the kitchen island. But eventually, the thought creeps in. You should go back to your place. You don't really want to—not when the air here feels like something warm and worn-in. Not when Jake keeps grazing your waist when he passes, or when Sunghoon's fingers are still loosely wrapped around your ankle, absently rubbing. Still, your laundry's piling up, your textbooks are somewhere under your bed, and you haven't touched your own skincare in four days. You shift on the counter. "I should head back for a bit," you say quietly. Jake stops mid-chew and frowns. "Now?"

"Just for a while," you shrug, playing with the hem of the oversized hoodie you'd slept in. "I need more clothes. And my laptop." There's a pause. You don't say it out loud, but you're both thinking it—Yunjin might be there. Jake is the first to break the silence. "I'll go with you." You glance over at him. He's already standing up, wiping his hands on a paper towel, as if it's already decided.

"You don't have to," you say gently, not wanting to seem cold, but knowing how much heavier it'll feel if he's there, how much more obvious your tension with Yunjin will be with him watching. "Really. I'll be fine."

Jake frowns, but you can tell it's not from offense, it's from concern. Sunghoon finally speaks, voice quiet as always. "Let him drive you." You turn your head. He's not looking at you, just brushing the crumbs off his hands and walking to the sink, like it's a casual suggestion — but it isn't. You know Sunghoon too well to miss the weight behind his words.

"I'll be okay," you repeat. He dries his hands and finally meets your eyes. "I know. But you shouldn't have to be." That lands heavier than you expect. It silences you for a beat. Jake doesn't gloat. Doesn't push. He just rests his hand on your thigh and says, softer this time, "Let me take you. Just the ride, yeah? I won't come up." And the way he says it, not begging or pleading, just offering, makes it impossible to say no.

You nod. "Okay." Jake grins. "Cool. I'll grab my keys."

As he disappears into the hallway, you feel Sunghoon step close again. He tilts your chin up with one finger, expression unreadable, the way it always is when he's being careful with his words. "Don't let her get under your skin," he says quietly.

"I'm not—"

"I know you," he interrupts, brushing his thumb against your cheek. "And I know how much space you make for people, even the ones who don't deserve it."

Your throat tightens. "You should go back cause you want to," he adds. "Not just because you feel like you have to." You lean into his touch for a second longer, just until you hear Jake's footsteps returning. Sunghoon drops his hand, presses a kiss to your temple, and steps away.

The car is warm, the windows slightly cracked as the wind hums in soft bursts. You’d reminded him to put the top back on and now he’s got one hand on the wheel, the other gesturing animatedly as he tells you some story about a mutual friend from class, something about a failed group project and a spilled drink, but your eyes aren't really on him. You're watching the road blur past. Listening, but not really.

The smile on your face is faint, polite, not the kind Jake's used to pulling from you. He's halfway through a joke when you finally cut in, voice gentle, almost unsure. "What did you mean... back at the party," you start slowly, "when you said Yunjin doesn't behave herself?" His hand stills on the wheel. You see the way his jaw tightens, barely noticeable, but you catch it.

He exhales through his nose, gaze fixed on the road. "Did you ask Sunghoon?" You hesitate, thinking maybe you should lie. Then, quietly, "I did." Jake hums once, like he's not surprised. "What'd he say?" You shake your head a little, turning to face him more. "He said it was nothing. Or that he'd tell me later." Jake chuckles dryly, shifting gears at a light. "That sounds like him."

"Is it nothing?" There's a pause. Jake finally glances at you, just for a second, then looks back at the road. "You should listen to Sunghoon," he says, not unkindly. "It's not a big deal." But the way he says it, almost rehearsed. Like he's been told to say that before. You turn back to the window, chewing on your lip, silence slipping between you two again. Jake drums his fingers on the steering wheel, probably trying to think of something else to talk about. Something easier. But the question still lingers between you both. It still doesn't feel like nothing, and you can tell he knows that. You can’t really say much, especially when he’s already pulling up to your building and parking, leaving over to kiss you and tell you not too take too long.

You shut the door of your apartment quietly behind you, already feeling the weight of the air inside your apartment. Yunjin's sitting on the couch, just as you expected, arms crossed and eyes glued to her phone, but it's the tension in her shoulders that tells you everything. "Hey," you say softly, setting your bag down. No response. You glance at her again. "Yunjin." She finally looks up, expression unreadable. "Oh. You're back." You stop, taken aback by the tone. "Yeah... just came to grab a few things." She nods slowly, like she's pretending to think about that. "Right. Cause you live at Sunghoon and Jake's now." Her smile doesn't reach her eyes. "Or maybe you're still trying to decide which bed you like more."

That lands hard. You pause in place, uncertain if you heard her right. "What?" She stands up, folding her arms. "Don't look so shocked. People talk, you know? And I'm not blind. You're staying over there constantly. You walk around campus like it's normal—like it's fine."

"Yunjin—"

"Are you sleeping with both of them?" she snaps, making you go stiff. "What—what kind of question is that?" you ask, trying to keep your voice level. "It's not a question," she says coolly. "It's what everyone already thinks. Don't act like you're some innocent victim here. You know what you're doing."

You stare at her, heart pounding. "Why are you saying this to me?"

"Because I'm your cousin, basically your sister," she spits. "And you clearly need someone to knock some sense into you." The silence afterward is awful. Heavy and bitter. She doesn't back down, doesn't blink, doesn't seem to notice how much she's just hurt you. You open your mouth even though nothing comes out. But then door opens with a clean, sharp sound that cuts right through the silence. You and Yunjin both turn your heads toward it, startled. Jake steps in casually, holding your phone between two fingers like he's done nothing but walk into a peaceful room. His face, though, says otherwise. His eyes lock on Yunjin's instantly—calm but tight around the edges, like a lit match held too close to something flammable.

"You forgot this," he says, voice low as he looks to you. He holds the phone out gently, not breaking eye contact with Yunjin until you reach to take it.

"Jake—" you start, confused, because you'd watched him drive off. He had class, he told you he did. He cuts you off, gaze still fixed on Yunjin. "This conversation? Not your business," he says quietly, but the threat in his tone is unmistakable. "And the way you're talking to her? You're crossing a line you don't want to cross."

Yunjin blinks like she can't believe what she's hearing. "Is that a threat?" Jake raises a brow. "It's a warning. You don't get to speak to her like that. Not anymore."

"Oh, I'm so scared," she snaps, arms folding. "What are you gonna do? Have Sunghoon glower at me until I cry?" It's meant to be biting. But Jake doesn't even flinch. He tilts his head just slightly, his tone flat. "You think this is about me and Sunghoon?" He looks down at you then, eyes softening just a little. His voice drops, quieter now. "I was already driving off when I noticed your phone. But something told me to come up anyway." He looks at Yunjin again, no longer trying to hide the coldness in his stare. "Guess I figured right."

You're still frozen, unsure what just shifted. Jake's still Jake—but this edge to him? The steel behind the softness? It's disorienting, like watching something gentle catch fire.

Yunjin stares at him, and for the first time—she doesn't have anything to say. And you're left even more confused than before. Because none of this feels random, none of this feels new to them. Jake doesn't say anything at first. He just steps inside and closes the door behind him, the sound oddly calm despite the storm in his expression. His eyes flick to you, then to Yunjin. You watch the shift in his face as he registers how stiff you look, how shaken. "Go grab your things," he says, eyes still on your cousin. You hesitate. "Jake—"

He turns his head slowly and looks at you—really looks. And the intensity there, the weight behind it, makes your mouth go dry. "Y/n." That's all it takes.

You move, legs shaky as you head down the hallway toward your room, but you can hear them behind you. Muffled voices, low but clipped. You pause just past the corner, just out of view. The voices sharpen. "I'm warning you," Yunjin snaps. "You wouldn't dare—"

"Just fucking try me, I’m begging you." Jake's voice is all grit and steel, low enough to be a growl, and for a moment you don't recognize him. You can't make out what Yunjin says after that because Jake's footsteps are suddenly coming down the hall. You dart into your room and pretend to be mid-pack when he walks in, though your fingers are barely curled around the strap of your duffle. He doesn't speak right away. Just stands there, jaw clenched, pulling his phone from his back pocket and dialing. "Yeah, it's me," he says as soon as the line connects. His eyes don't leave yours. "She's coming back now. Yunjin opened her fucking mouth."

A pause. You can faintly hear Sunghoon on the other end, but you're too disoriented to register the words.

Jake drags a hand through his hair and exhales harshly. "Yeah. In a bit." He hangs up and lowers the phone, finally glancing at your duffle. "You're so slow sometimes," he mutters, stepping closer. "Sit down."

You blink. "What—"

"Sit," he repeats, already prying the bag from your grip.

You lower yourself to the edge of your bed as he starts grabbing clothes. No rhyme or reason to it. Shirts, hoodies, underwear, shorts, your phone charger. You watch him shove them all into the bag. He grabs a pair of your panties off the floor near your laundry basket and pauses. You watch his gaze drag slowly over them, then flick up to meet your eyes. A smirk curves at his lips, playful and a little wicked. "These are mine now." You stare at him in disbelief. He slips them into his pocket and grabs your wrist with zero shame. "Let's go, baby."

"Jake, wait—"

"No," he cuts in quickly, jaw set, hand still wrapped around your wrist. "You don't need to see her again right now." Your feet scramble to keep up as he leads you down the hall, the bag slung over his shoulder, his grip unwavering. You pass the living room, the couch, the kitchen, but Yunjin isn't there. Or maybe she is and she's just gone silent again—but you don't dare look.

Jake doesn't stop. He pulls open the door, steps out, and keeps going, guiding you down the stairs like every second you spend in that apartment is dangerous. Like something might snap if you linger any longer. You barely remember locking the door. You barely remember making it down the last step before he's helping you into the passenger seat, shutting the door behind you, circling the car to the driver's side.

It's not until he throws the duffle in the back seat and starts the engine that you finally speak.

"I didn't... I didn't know she could speak to me like that…ever." Jake looks straight ahead as he pulls onto the street, the muscle in his jaw twitching. "Neither did I."

Jake's car pulling into the student lot like it owns the pavement isn’t anything new. The late morning sun always glints off the blue of the hood, windows rolled down, your laughter blending with Jake's dramatics. He's in the middle of reenacting a scene you half-remember from four months ago—something he'd called you, something filthy and ridiculous, and something that still makes your stomach twist in the best way now. "'She’s a free use toy now, remember?'" you repeat in his voice, pitching it low and overly serious. "'That's what you said, baby.'" You slap his arm, your face flushed, the both of you nearly wheezing with laughter now. Jake grins like an idiot behind the wheel, almost pleased with himself. "I don’t even know why I said that! You looked so sad, my heart clenched." He pouts.

"Mine too," Sunghoon chimes dryly from the back seat. His tone is flat, but there's a hint of amusement there—just enough to make you glance back at him with a small smile. "Yeah, yeah," Jake mutters, shifting into park as the three of you pull into a spot. "Let’s just think of it like post sex dirty talk."

“What!?”

"I don't need dirty talk," Sunghoon replies as he opens the door. "You two are loud enough for all three of us." The car shuts off. Jake practically bounds out, his words already flowing again, this time about the stats class he’s trying not to fail. You reach for the door handle but don't get far—Sunghoon is already there, pulling it open, steadying your hand with his. "Careful," he murmurs, not for show. His fingers smooth the hem of your skirt, and it's automatic, the way he does it. The way his hand lingers at your hip for a second too long. You barely notice. Or rather, you're used to it now. Jake's still talking, walking ahead, phone in hand, gesturing like someone gave him a stage.

And then something quieter and sharper hits you. You glance up and realize...people are staring. Not just glancing. Staring. A pair of girls by the outdoor vending machine pause mid conversation. A guy you recognize from your elective class does a double take. You catch a couple seated at the stone benches near the quad, both turning their heads as the three of you walk by. And suddenly nothing is funny anymore. Suddenly, you're aware of how close you're standing to Sunghoon, how his hand is still faintly at your lower back. You think about the night before, about the way Jake's voice sounded when he was spilling himself inside you while Sunghoon kissed your mouth shut. You think about how many times this week you've stayed over and how you barely even sleep at your own place anymore. You hear Yunjin's voice like she's walking beside you. People talk, you know?

You're not sure what they're saying, but they're saying something. Your stomach tightens as your face goes hot. Sunghoon's arm starts to rise, curling over your shoulders like it always does, and you react before you can think. You shrug him off. Not so gently that it makes him pause mid-step. Jake even stops talking. It's a blink, a beat, but the air shifts instantly. You can feel both of them watching you. Sunghoon's brows draw in the tiniest amount and Jake's confusion is very obvious. You swallow and force your eyes ahead, tucking your hair behind your ear like that'll explain everything. "Sorry," you mumble. "It's just hot." But even you don't sound convinced. Neither of them says anything right away. You all keep walking and you don't dare look back.

It suddenly feels like you're very, very alone, as the crowd thickens the closer you get to the central quad. Jake has started chattering beside you again, walking a step ahead just so he can turn and face you with that boyish grin. "So then I was thinking—after your econ class, you come back with us. We'll order from that place you like. The one with the overpriced pasta. Sunghoon's paying."

"Am I?" Sunghoon says flatly from your other side, barely looking up from his phone. "Yes, because I paid last time and I don’t even think she’s seen her credit card in a hot minute." He points his thumb at you. “Hey!” You shove at his shoulder, “It’s okay, princess. We like spending our money on you.” You offer a weak smile, eyes flicking around again. You can feel people staring, you're not imagining it this time. It's in the way they don't just glance, they linger. A few of them lean into each other to whisper. You almost think you hear your name, or maybe you don't. You wrap your arms around yourself, stepping slightly out of Jake's reach when he goes to grab your arm. He doesn't catch the shift at first. But he does the second time you do it.

He stops mid-sentence. Frowns. "Hey..." His voice softens just slightly. "What's going on?"

You don't answer right away. You feel both their eyes on you now. Jake reaches for your hand this time, slower, gentler—and you hesitate before you let him take it. Only for a second. You pull it away under the pretense of adjusting your bag strap. You look at them both, then down at your shoes and then up again. "They're staring," you finally say. The words are small. Almost swallowed. "People are...looking." Jake blinks at you, like he's trying to understand something that doesn't make any sense. "So?" His voice is light but it holds something sharper underneath. A note of come on threaded through. "So," you repeat, eyes flashing up to him, "it's not just glances, Jake. It's—people are probably saying things. About me. About...us."

Jake exhales. Not quite a sigh, not quite a scoff. "Okay? Let them. Who gives a shit?"

"Jake," Sunghoon warns, quiet and even. Jake looks between you two, his jaw ticking. "What? I'm serious. We’re not doing anything wrong."

"That doesn't mean it's easy for her," Sunghoon says, more to Jake than to you. "She's clearly struggling. Let's talk about it tonight." He steps closer to you, brushing his knuckles against your cheek in a way that makes you want to close your eyes, if only for a second. "You're okay," he murmurs. "Alright? We'll figure it out." Then he leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. You don't push him away this time. You let him. Jake still looks tense. Like he's trying to hold back a million things he wants to say. But he keeps quiet, watching you carefully as you shift your weight on your feet, hands tucked in the sleeves of your sweater now.

You give a small nod. "I'll see you guys later," you say, already backing away toward the path that leads to your building. "Text me when you're out," Sunghoon says. Jake doesn't say anything. You turn around to walk away. Two steps away, just as you're passing a line of trees along the sidewalk, you feel a sharp little pinch right where your skirt ends. You nearly jump. You spin around and Jake's already grinning like he didn't just grope you in public.

"Mine," he mouths, poking at his chest. You flush instantly, whipping back around, and walking fast—heat rising up your neck, and somehow, a little lighter than before.

The rest of your day unspools in a blur. Your econ class dragged on longer than it had any right to, the professor's voice somehow more monotone than usual, each slide heavier with graphs you couldn't focus on. You kept blinking at the same sentence in your notes, rereading it until the words lost meaning entirely. Yunjin still hadn't replied to any of your messages. Not even the short one you sent during your break, Can we talk later? Just us. It stayed marked as delivered. The silence sat with you all day like a knot behind your ribs.

Jake, on the other hand, had sent you seven messages before your class even ended. “hey pretty” “people suck” “but i love you” “sunghoon says i'm being annoying” “but he's cranky, maybe he's hungry” “i miss you rn” “you miss me?” Meanwhile, Sunghoon had sent one. “You okay?”

That was it. Just two words. But you stared at the message for a while, and somehow it made your chest ache in a different way.

And now here you are, exactly where you knew you’d end up again today—melted into the center of Jake and Sunghoon's couch, Jake sprawled entirely on top of you like a human-sized heat pack, half-crushing your lungs while he scrolls through videos with the volume too high. His chin is resting on your chest, legs tangled with yours, one arm wrapped lazily under your back like he never intends to move again. "I'm going to suffocate," you murmur, voice muffled against his shoulder. "No you're not," Jake replies without looking up. "You love this." You do. You hate how much you do. Sunghoon's voice drifts in from the kitchen. "Jaeyun, get off her. You're going to fold her in half."

"I’m like her weighted blanket," Jake replies, one leg tightening around you like a boa constrictor. Sunghoon sighs but doesn't argue further. "I'm ordering," he says over his shoulder. "Same thing as last time?"

"Yes," you say. "Please." He glances over at you, eyes scanning from where your arms are wrapped tightly around Jake's back to the way your ankles hook around his hips. He shakes his head once. Jake grins and kisses your chin, finally looking up. You smile faintly. "You're heavy."

"And warm," he adds. "And comforting. And sweet. And sexy."

"I didn't even say any of that." You roll your eyes and bury your nose into the soft fabric of his shirt, ignoring the fact that the last twenty-four hours felt like emotional whiplash. Right now, right here, you're okay. Sandwiched between chaos and calm, with Jake's weight grounding you and Sunghoon's voice surrounding the space you’re in. You let yourself breathe.

The food arrives with a knock at the door and a soft "thank you" from Sunghoon as he takes the bags. You and Jake are still tangled up on the couch until the smell of your favorite order drifts into the room, and you already know what's about to happen. You feel it in the way Sunghoon lingers a little too long in the kitchen—organizing containers, silently placing utensils beside napkins. He's thinking about what to say. He's going to ask. He's going to start that conversation.

So you beat him to it. "What's the deal with Yunjin?" you ask suddenly, sitting up straighter, brushing Jake's hair from your face. Jake pauses—his entire body freezing like someone hit pause on the app he was scrolling through. He lifts himself off you slowly, sitting up beside you now, looking over at Sunghoon like he's waiting too. Like this part isn't his to answer. Sunghoon doesn't look surprised. He sighs, quiet and composed as always, reaching for one of the containers and placing it in front of you. "Don't worry about her," he says evenly, sliding a fork into your hand. "It's not important." Jake nods like that's final. "Seriously. She's not a problem."

"She kind of was yesterday," you say gently. "And no one's telling me why." Sunghoon's eyes flicker to Jake's, something unspoken passing between them, but neither of them says anything else. It's like hitting a wall. One you didn't know was there until you crashed into it. So you nod once, deciding to let it go for now. But it turns out you can't let go of everything. Because Jake, still trying to smooth the air, says softly, "About earlier—when you said people were staring."

"I just—" you start, but it's like the dam breaks before you can control it. "What is this?" Both of them look at you. Jake stops mid-bite, brows furrowing. Sunghoon sets his drink down, posture straightening slightly like he already knows where you're going. "What are we doing?" you continue. "Like, what is this even supposed to be? Am I...your girlfriend? Am I both your girlfriends? Are you my boyfriends?" Sunghoon blinks slowly, lips parting—but nothing comes out just yet.

"Because sometimes it feels like I'm a pet or something," you say quickly, before either of them can answer. "Like, you feed me and you cuddle me and you both say you want me—but no one's saying what this actually is. And I get it, I do, this started as a mess—but I just need to know."

"Pet?" Sunghoon repeats under his breath, tone unreadable. Jake makes a small, soft noise beside you. Almost like a laugh, but not quite. There's something guilty in it. "Like I'm just something cute you feed and play with and keep around for your convenience," you say, voice shaking a little. "I don't know what I'm allowed to call this. What I'm allowed to feel. You both keep—fucking me, touching me, taking care of me but not saying anything. And I've just been going along with it, but now people are talking and I don't even know what to say to myself, let alone anyone else." Jake raises both his hands a little, a weak smile pulling at his mouth. "Well, you fuck us too, baby."

You whip your head toward him. The glare you give is cold enough to shut him up immediately. Jake winces. "Okay. Bad timing." You blink hard, trying not to cry. "I'm serious." Sunghoon steps in gently, always calm, always composed. "We know." Jake shifts uncomfortably. "She's right. We should've said something. We've been...we've been enjoying it too much to pause and check in. That's on us."

"I need to know," you whisper. "Before this goes any deeper than it already has." Sunghoon reaches across the table, brushing your knuckles with his fingers. "You're not a pet. You're not some thing we keep around. You're someone we care about. Deeply."

Jake's voice comes in low, sincere. "And if you need it defined, then yeah. You're our girlfriend. Mine. Sunghoon's too.” He looks at Sunghoon, who nods once, no hesitation. "You're ours. And we're yours," Sunghoon says simply. "If you want that." Jake leans in again, resting his chin on your shoulder, quieter this time. "And if anyone gives you shit about it...let us handle it." The silence that follows feels different now. Like an exhale. You're still unsure, still scared—but at least you're not alone in it. Jake notices you starting to crumble again, your arms still wrapped around your legs like a shield, your forehead resting on your knee like you're trying to disappear. You've stopped talking, but your eyes are wet, and the silence is loud. So he does what Jake always does when emotions get too raw—he leans in with a grin and says something that makes you want to both kiss and strangle him.

"Okay, but if you were just our pet or our toy or whatever—would we let you ride us like that?" You blink. "Jake—"

"I'm serious," he grins, full of teeth now. "The way you get on top? That shit's not recreational. That's religious. Cowgirl of the century. If we were just using you, you'd be flat on your back all the time."

"Jake," Sunghoon says, without looking up from his container. "Read the room."

"I am reading the room," Jake shrugs, nudging you again. "It's tense. I'm easing it." You shoot him a look that's somewhere between exasperated and fond. "And the way you moan?" he keeps going, ignoring Sunghoon's sigh. "Half the building probably thinks we're filming amateur porn. And I'm not even mad."

Your cheeks flush instantly. Then Sunghoon finally glances up, chewing slowly. "You done?" Jake looks over at him, unbothered. "Not even close.” But when he sees the heat rising in your cheeks—your breath caught in your throat, lips parted but silent—he backs off just a little, gaze softening as he runs his thumb over the spot he touched.

"I'm just saying," he says, a bit quieter now. "Don't say we're using you when you fuck us like you own us."

You look at him. Then Sunghoon adds, so dry it's almost funny, "And you call me possessive." Jake just smirks and shrugs. "She started it." You're sit there, stunned and blushing, legs curled up beneath you as Jake licks his lips like he didn't just casually obliterate your emotional stability with his mouth. Sunghoon's watching you both now, quiet but not in that unreadable way he always does, he's leaned back with one arm thrown over the back of the couch, chewing slowly as if he's giving you space to recover. But his eyes don't leave you. You don't even realize you're staring into your lap until Jake shifts again beside you. The warmth of his hand on your lower back is grounding this time, not teasing. When he speaks again, his tone is lighter. Not softer exactly—but easier.

"Okay. Let's change the subject before Sunghoon murders me." Sunghoon just lifts a brow. Jake grins at him, then turns back to you. "What do you think about us going away next month?" You blink. "What?"

"For Sunghoon's birthday," he clarifies. "It's just after midterms. I figured we could do something—just us. Like, leave the city. Rent a cabin. Go up north. Or maybe a beach town if the weather isn't shit." You turn your head slowly. "It's your birthday next month?"

Sunghoon nods as he chews, like it's not a big deal. Jake scoffs. "See? He wasn't even going to say anything. He never does. He hates celebrating, but I think that's mostly because no one's ever done it right." Your eyes linger on Sunghoon. He's looking at the coffee table now, suddenly preoccupied with peeling a label off the water bottle he hasn't even opened. There's the faintest tightness around his mouth. You realize with a quiet kind of ache that Jake's probably right. "I didn't know," you say, quiet.

Sunghoon shrugs. "It's not important." Jake mutters, "It is to me." There's a pause. Jake leans forward slightly, voice losing its usual lilt. "It should be to you too." Your chest tightens. "Of course it is. I didn't mean—" You stop. Breathe. "I just didn't know." Sunghoon nods once. "Now you do." Jake leans back, brushing his hair out of his face. "So? What do you think? We go away for a few days, just the three of us. No classes. No campus. No one watching us like we're weird."

You nod before you can talk yourself out of it. "Yeah. I'd like that." Sunghoon doesn't say anything at first. Then he murmurs, "We'll see how midterms go." Jake rolls his eyes. "Don't act like you're not already ahead in every class."

"I'm not failing," Sunghoon allows, glancing at you now. "You?"

"I'm managing," you say, and it's true—but just barely. It's hard to focus with everything going on. Yunjin's silence. Campus whispers. The heaviness that lingers even when you're safe on their couch, fed and warm and wanted. Jake nudges your side gently. "Then we're going. You need a break, birthday boy needs attention, and I—" He grins. "I'm just trying to see you in a bikini." Sunghoon scoffs, but you catch the way his mouth twitches. Jake keeps going. "We'll get a place with a hot tub. Or one of those outdoor tubs. Imagine the three of us in that. Steam. Moonlight. Maybe a bottle of wine."

You raise a brow. "Who's bringing the wine?"

"I'm twenty-two," Jake says, smug. "I can get alcohol."

You snort despite yourself. Sunghoon finally smirks.

And for a second, it's just quiet again. Easy. You settle back into the couch. Jake picks up a fry. Sunghoon pulls the food containers closer. And for the first time all day, the weight in your chest feels a little lighter.

You don't know what you are to them. Not yet. But you know they want you here, they're not letting go, and maybe for now, that's enough. Jake starts going on about beach towns and hot tubs and "aesthetically pleasing coastal interiors," but his excitement is infectious. The way he grins as he talks about planning something for Sunghoon—for the three of you—makes you feel warmer than the wine in your glass. Sunghoon's leaned back into the couch cushion beside you, watching Jake with that quiet fondness of his. Your bare knee brushes against his thigh when you shift, and he doesn't move away. "I want to show you something," he says suddenly, voice low but certain.

You look at him, curious. "Right now?"

He stands. "Yeah. Come." Jake raises an eyebrow. "Are we about to witness a murder or a surprise?" You follow Sunghoon anyway, trailing behind him through the apartment with Jake padding along behind you, still chewing on the last of a chocolate-covered strawberry like this is some late-night drama reveal.

It feels a little strange, walking into Sunghoon's room again. You haven't been in here since the three of you had sex on that very bed two nights ago. The room looks the same at first glance, neat and clean, the sheets are changed now, curtains drawn halfway and his nightstand exactly as minimal as you remembered. But then you see it. Against the far wall, in the corner that used to be empty, right next to his bed, stands a newly assembled vanity mirror. Soft, diffused bulbs line the frame. The surface gleams. And on top of it—your favorite skincare bottles, your foundation and lip oils, the mascara you lost weeks ago. There's even a small gold dish with your rings and earrings placed just right.

You take a slow step closer, stunned. Jake leans against the doorframe behind you. "He made me go with him to pick out that mirror. Swore the first one was 'too cheap-looking.' We've been hiding this for, like, two days." Sunghoon, still behind you, shifts a little awkwardly. "It's for... when you're getting ready here. Or, I don't know. If you wanna leave your stuff. Or—"

"Or if you just wanna live here," Jake finishes easily. "With us." You blink. "Wait—what?" He shrugs. "This is us being emotionally responsible adults. You already stay over like five nights a week, baby." Sunghoon nods, but he's quieter. "You haven't been in my room since...that night. So we figured if you did come back in, we wanted it to feel like yours too." Your throat tightens. You look back at the vanity—at how thoughtful it is. How deliberate. "I don't even have a drawer here," you mumble, a little breathless.

Jake laughs. "Yes, you do. Sunghoon emptied half his closet for you." Sunghoon shrugs like it's nothing, but his ears are a little pink. You turn toward them, voice soft. "You guys did this in two days?"

"We would've done it in one," Jake says, "but someone had to rearrange the lighting three times."

"I wanted it to look good," Sunghoon mutters. You don't realize your eyes are glassy until you blink down and one tear slides to your cheek. It's not sadness, not exactly—just that unbearable feeling when people love you with more care than you know how to process in the moment. Jake's already stepping forward. "Hey—hey. You crying?" You wipe at your face quickly, laughing through it. "No. Yes. I'm fine. It's just—this is really... a lot."

"It's okay," Sunghoon says, stepping closer too. "It's meant to be." He reaches up to tuck your hair gently behind your ear. You lean into the touch before you can stop yourself. Jake wraps an arm around your waist from behind and rests his chin on your shoulder. "So? Wanna move in, baby?" You look at them—your quiet, steady Sunghoon. Your chaotic, tender Jake. The mirror. The space. Your heart answers before your mouth can. "Yeah," you whisper. "Yeah. I do."

Jake's arm stays wrapped around your waist, fingers tapping lightly like he's buzzing with unused energy, when he pulls back just slightly to grin at you. "So," he says, dragging out the word. "Who wants to shower with me?" You open your mouth, ready to tease him for being predictably himself, when Sunghoon's phone buzzes in his pocket. He checks the screen, and for a split second, something shifts in his expression, a subtle flicker of recognition that tightens his jaw just a bit. "I'll be back," he says quietly, already turning away as he answers the call. "Hey, Heeseung." It's faint, but you catch the way he murmurs the name low under his breath like he didn't mean for you to hear. He walks out of the room with the phone pressed to his ear, voice dipping even softer as he disappears into the hallway. Your brows knit together for just a second. Heeseung?

But before you can dwell on it, you feel Jake's hands slip under your thighs, and with a sudden lurch, he's thrown you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing.

"Jake—!" you squeal, laughing as the blood rushes to your head. "Put me down!"

"Nope," he says, marching toward the bathroom with all the determination of someone carrying a trophy. "You're showering with me. You cried a little and now I have to bathe you like a princess."

"Is that the rule?" you protest, squirming as he smacks your thigh playfully. He hums, nonchalant. "That's my rule. Plus, you smell like strawberry body lotion and decision-making fatigue." He kicks the bathroom door open and steps inside, still holding you like a sack of sugar and setting you down gently on the countertop. His eyes scan over you with a rare kind of softness. "You okay?" he asks, voice quieter now, thumb brushing over your knee. "Really okay?" You nod, the earlier emotion still lingering like warmth in your chest. "Yeah. I am."

"Good," he murmurs, already reaching behind you to turn on the shower. "Let me take care of you a little."

There's a beat, a quiet moment between the sound of water filling the tub and the faint echo of Sunghoon's voice somewhere deeper in the apartment, still on that call. And you can't help but wonder. What was that about? But right now, Jake is tugging at the hem of your shirt with that boyish grin he always gets when he's about to undress you like it's a present he's unwrapping. And for now, you let the questions go and step into the tub holding Jake’s hand. The water is warm, scented faintly with eucalyptus and something sweeter, probably one of the overpriced oils Jake had tossed into the basket when he dragged you through the skincare aisle last week. You didn't expect to use it like this, not tonight, not like this, not with Jake pressed up behind you in the oversized bathtub, your spine resting against his chest and his arms looped around your waist like he's anchoring you there.

He hums low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your back as he presses a lazy kiss to your shoulder. You feel his fingers skim across your arms and settle over your hands, gently guiding them to float over the surface of the water. "Relax," he says, softly. "You've been tense all day."

"I've had a weird couple of weeks," you murmur, voice dry. "I think I'm allowed to be tense." Jake chuckles behind you, his nose brushing against your neck before he plants another kiss there. "Fair." His fingers interlace with yours underwater, and for a long minute, neither of you says anything. He just holds your hands in his and lets the water cradle you both, his thumbs brushing slow, thoughtful circles against your knuckles. "Hey," you ask after a while, voice quiet. "How do you guys even afford this place?" Jake doesn't answer right away. He exhales slowly, his chin resting on your shoulder. "Sunghoon's dad bought it for him. His 21st birthday gift. He actually owns the whole place." Your eyes widen a little. "Wait, he owns it?"

"Mhm," Jake hums. "Straight up. Title deed and all. I just moved in junior year because my last apartment had a black mold problem and I was too lazy to apartment hunt."

"Of course you were," you mutter.

"Hey," he says, laughing as he splashes water against your side. "It was life or death. I was being slowly poisoned." You lean back against him, more relaxed than you've felt all day. He keeps kissing your neck in quiet intervals, like he's reminding himself you're real and here and his. "Okay," you ask again, slower now, "How did you and Sunghoon... start?" Jake's hands pause just slightly, but then he resumes the soft movements, this time sliding his palms up your arms in long, comforting strokes. "Freshman year," he says. "We were in the same dorm building. Total strangers. I thought he was an asshole at first—he barely talked, always wore headphones."

"Sounds like him."

Jake grins. "Yeah. He caught me making out with someone in the stairwell and said something like, 'You know the walls are thin, right?' Thought he was judging me. Then two nights later, he kissed me at a party." You blink. "Wait—he made the first move?"

"Surprised?" Jake says, tilting his head.

"Yes?" Jake laughs again, pressing a hand to your stomach and gently pulling you closer to him in the water. "Yeah, he kissed me first. I think he was just curious, honestly. But it wasn't a one-time thing. It turned into more." You stay quiet for a second. "Do your parents know?"

"Mine don't ask questions," Jake says, tone losing some of its earlier playfulness. "I don't think they'd care much as long as I keep up appearances. Sunghoon's... kind of complicated. His dad is—well. He wouldn't be thrilled." You frown at that, looking down at where your hands are still tangled in his beneath the water. Your chest tightens just slightly. You tilt your head back a little more, resting it against his collarbone. His skin is warm, and his breath stays steady against your neck, like he's completely at peace.

"You said it started freshman year," you murmur. "Just the two of you. So when did you start... inviting girls into your bed?" Jake's fingers still on your waist for just a moment. Then he smiles softly against your skin. "Not just girls, baby," he murmurs. "Guys too."

You blink, surprised. "Oh...right. Sorry."

"No need to be sorry," he says gently, reaching for your hand under the water again. He's tracing along your knuckles now, thumb moving slow. "It's not something we talked about at first. It kind of...happened. One time at a party, it always starts at a fucking party, we found out this girl was flirting with both of us at the same time."

"And you didn't mind?" you ask.

Jake huffs out a laugh. "Nope. If anything, it kind of turned us on? We realized we didn't care about sharing. At least not like that. So it became a thing — a little game." You're quiet, processing that. You think about how they are with you, all teasing, overwhelming, indulgent. But also careful. Also...real.

Jake nudges your chin with his nose, coaxing you back into the present. "You okay?" he asks. You nod slowly. "Yeah. Just... it makes sense. I guess I never really thought about it." He's quiet for a beat. "We weren't looking for anything serious," he says, voice softer now. "Not until you." Your chest stutters a little at that.

"And you're both...?"

"I'm pansexual," Jake says easily. "And Hoonie’s bi."

You chew on that for a moment, staring down at the water, the way it ripples with the movement of your legs still loosely tangled with Jake's. He doesn't press you. Just kisses your shoulder again and waits. "Have you ever thought about being with a girl?" he asks finally, tone light but curious. "Like, would you ever—?"

"My first kiss was with a girl," you say before you can stop yourself. Jake jerks slightly behind you. "Wait. What?"

You laugh a little, shrinking down in the water. "It was in middle school. Truth or dare. We were twelve."

"Oh my god." Jake sounds absolutely delighted. "Why is this the first I'm hearing of this?"

"Because it's not a big deal!" you say quickly, cheeks warming. "It was just a kiss."

"Still," Jake says, turning your face toward his. He's grinning like you just told him the most interesting thing in the world. "I feel like this changes everything."

You roll your eyes. "It really doesn't." Jake leans in and kisses your cheek anyway. "Tell me everything," he says, still smiling. "Name, zodiac sign, where is she now—" You splash water at him and he yelps, laughing, pulling you closer again like he can't help himself.

You sigh, content and warm against him, the water lapping gently against your skin. His arms are lazily wrapped around your waist, one hand trailing idle circles over your stomach as the other continues to play with your fingers underwater. "Can I tell you something kinda embarrassing?" you murmur. Jake hums, his lips brushing your shoulder. "Always."

"I used to hear all these rumors about you and Sunghoon on campus...before I even knew either of you." That perks him up. You can sense his smirk forming before you even glance back. "Oh yeah?" he says, already amused. "Like what?" You grin. "Like how you two were rich and lived in some crazy off-campus apartment with a private elevator and heated floors."

Jake snorts. "Okay, yeah, it’s just an elevator. Heated floors, though... only in the bathrooms." You giggle a little. "I still can’t believe he got an apartment for his birthday?" Jake nods like it's normal. "He wanted a Ducati. His dad said no. So, apartment." You blink. "That's...not how my parents work." He chuckles. "Same." You nudge his thigh with yours, warming up. "And they said you drive a Jeep Wrangler—red—with custom rims. Supposedly a reward for agreeing to study business." Jake actually throws his head back and laughs at that.

"I wish," he says through laughter. "I do drive a Wrangler, but it's clearly blue. And I got it for my high school graduation, not because of some lame agreement. My parents still think I'm gonna take over my dad's law firm one day." You grin. "So the business degree is...?"

"Mostly for show," he shrugs. "And to keep them off my ass." You turn your head a little, looking up at him. "Okay, but there was also this one rumor about how you and Sunghoon were like...always hooking up with people. Together. Like some weird team." Jake pauses. Then slowly raises a brow. "I mean... that one's not entirely false." You lean your head back again, smiling up at the ceiling. "Okay, wait, there were so many."

Jake chuckles behind you, arms still snug around your waist. "I'm listening." You start ticking them off on your fingers. "There was one that said you and Sunghoon had a no-dating policy because you didn't want to catch feelings and ruin the—quote—dynamic."

Jake laughs low in your ear. "Okay, that's dramatic. We just didn't want to deal with drama. If someone got clingy, it was a hard no. But no official policy. We're not a corporation." You hum. "Someone once told me Sunghoon broke up a couple because the girl hooked up with him and her boyfriend got jealous." Jake snorts. "That one's true. Not even Hoon's fault though. She lied. Said she was single." Your jaw drops. "He broke up a whole relationship?!"

Jake shrugs. "To be fair, the guy should've been mad at her, not us. Hoon didn't even remember her name the next day." You giggle, letting the warm water slosh a little as you shift. "There was this insane rumor that you—you—ran a finsta where you used to post thirst traps for Sunghoon just to mess with people." Jake breaks into a full grin. "Okay. That one's only a little true."

"WHAT."

He laughs, smug. "I didn't run a finsta, but I did post some stupid clips of Hoon dancing or shirtless after the gym. Just for fun. Girls in the comments used to fight over him. He hated it."

You gasp, delighted. "That's evil." He kisses the side of your neck, smirking. "I'm misunderstood." You continue, "Someone said you two once threw a party where you only let people in if they were hot enough, and you made out with two different people at the same time on the couch." Jake's shoulders shake with laughter behind you. "That party was a disaster. Sunghoon got drunk and made everyone leave because someone puked in his room. And that three-way kiss wasn't planned. They just... went for it."

Jake tilts his head, grinning at you. "What else did they say, hmm?" You bite your lip, pretending to think. "That you only ever go for people you can't have."

He quiets for a beat. His arms tighten slightly around your waist, and when he speaks next, it's softer. "Guess I broke that one too."

"Okay, but this one? Someone told me you guys had a third roommate that no one ever saw but was apparently just there for sex. Like, they called her your house pet." Jake nearly chokes. "Oh my god—what?! That's so fucked up."

"You're not denying it fast enough."

"I'm laughing too hard to defend myself!" he said, voice still warm with amusement. "That's complete bullshit. We didn't even have a third roommate, let alone a pet girl. Sunghoon would never let just anyone into his space like that. What do they think we were doing—running a harem out of a student housing lease?"

You tilted your head, smirking. "I mean..." He lightly bit your shoulder and you squealed. Jake grinned into your neck. "Don't get smart, baby. You're not a pet in this house now, remember?" Your stomach fluttered. "That...somehow doesn't make it better."

"Admit it," he said, voice lower, more teasing, "you'd have believed it if I hadn't told you otherwise."

You turned your face toward his. "Oh, I totally believed it." His grin was shameless. "You still do." You didn't answer, and instead just let your fingers float in the water—because maybe you did. Just a little. Because now that you were here, inside this impossibly expensive, stupidly sexy apartment, with Jake all over you and Sunghoon's voice faint in the hallway...none of it really felt like a rumor anymore. It felt real, cause you were in it now, and you knew they wanted you to stay.

You’re trying to hold back a grin as you continue talking. "There was another one that said you both had fake names on Tinder and used to catfish freshmen just for fun." Jake raises his hands like he's offended. "Now that is slander. I didn't even use dating apps. That was always Hoon's department." You snort. "Oh yeah? Cause I heard Sunghoon only swiped right on people who had either modeling portfolios or mutuals at Ivy Leagues."

Jake pauses. "Okay. That one might be true." You both break into laughter. "Someone said you once skipped a midterm because you got invited to Cannes."

Jake stretches lazily behind you. "Nah, it was the Canary islands. And it wasn’t like we were randomly invited. It was my brothers wedding." “Plus it was after midterms”

"Okay. Well that makes more sense"

"Exactly." You blink, turning to glance at him again—but just then, the bathroom door opens.

Sunghoon walks in, without a word, dropping onto the closed toilet seat, thighs spreading as he rests his elbows on them. The motion draws your eyes before you can stop yourself, gaze dragging to the vee of his hips and the way his muscles flex under his skin. He notices. He always notices.

"Do you guys ever use your bathroom?" he asks casually, voice low and warm with amusement. Jake doesn't look away from you, but he grins. "Yours is bigger."

"Mm," Sunghoon hums, eyes flicking to you now. "That why she always ends up in here looking like this?"

You swallow, cheeks hot again. You feel Jake's smile against your shoulder. Sunghoon leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees now. His eyes drag over your bare shoulders, your wet hair clinging to your collarbone, the way you're pressed against Jake's chest in the water like you're trying to disappear—but not really. "You're so fucking beautiful," he says it like a whisper, like it's not the first time he's thought it today. Or the fifth. Your breath stutters in your throat.

You try to look away but you can’t and neither does he.

Jake's arms tighten around you, a little possessive. A little indulgent. His voice is softer when he speaks, like he already knows what Sunghoon's words did to you.

"She is," Jake murmurs, brushing a kiss behind your ear, and then down the slope of your neck. "So perfect." And the air shifts—warm steam and something heavier threading between all three of you. The kind of quiet where want lives, curling slow and inevitable at the base of your spine. You can feel the weight of Sunghoon's gaze like fingertips against your skin, almost like a promise. You're still flushed from Sunghoon's compliment when you hear the faint sound of fabric being peeled away—the unmistakable rustle of clothes hitting the floor.

You glance up and Sunghoon's undressing, slow and unrushed, pulling his shirt over his head like it's no big deal that you're both watching, because it isn’t. He tosses it to the side before pushing his sweats down, stepping out of them with a calm, practiced ease. And then he heads toward the standing shower opposite the tub like this is the most natural thing in the world. Jake kisses your cheek as if he didn't just tighten his hold on you again. Your eyes follow Sunghoon shamelessly—the strong line of his back, the clean muscles of his thighs, the way he turns the water on and steps under the spray without even glancing back.

"Do you guys ever fight over dick size?" you blurt, half-giddy, half-curious. There's a beat of stunned silence. And then Sunghoon barks out a laugh. Like, actually laughs. Full-bodied, head tilted back, water pouring down his chest as he scrubs body wash into his skin. Even Jake snorts behind you, chin resting on your shoulder. "Oh my god," Sunghoon says between little breathless huffs, rubbing his hand down his face like he's trying to compose himself, "what the fuck, why would you ask that?"

You're giggling now, hands covering your burning face. "I don't know! You guys are both hot and stupidly confident. It's a valid question!" Jake chuckles against your ear. "We haven't fought about it, no," he says with faux solemnity. "We've definitely compared, though."

Sunghoon hums, lifting his brows under the spray. "Weird way of saying I won."

"Please," Jake scoffs. "We're basically the same size."

"Exactly," Sunghoon replies smoothly, rinsing his chest, "and I'm taller, so it looks bigger." That earns another laugh from you, and Jake presses his face into your neck with an affectionate groan like this is his life now.

The water's still a little warm when Sunghoon reaches out a hand for you. "C'mere," he murmurs, voice low and gentle. You let him help you out of the tub, fingers curling around his forearm for balance as he steadies you. Jake's already in the shower by the time your feet touch the floor, letting the spray soak through his hair. He reaches for you the second you're close enough, tugging you under the water between them. It's quiet, almost tender—the rinse off. Just soft hands gliding over your skin, fingers brushing your shoulders, your waist. Sunghoon kisses your forehead at one point. Jake rubs shampoo into your scalp with the gentlest touch, humming something low while water slicks down your back. Afterward, Jake wraps a thick towel around you like it's second nature, tugging it snug and pressing a kiss to your cheek with a little "you did good, baby," like you just ran a marathon instead of... taking a bath.

By the time you're settled in front of the new vanity, in Jake's oversized shirt that hangs halfway down your thighs and Sunghoon's boxers peeking out beneath, you feel extra warm in more ways than one. "This is still crazy," you mumble, eyes sweeping over the glossy surface, the perfect lighting, the neat rows of your favorite products already set out like you've lived here forever. "I didn't even know you two noticed what I use." Jake's sprawled out on the bed beside you, chin resting on his forearm, watching you like he's studying a piece in a museum. He reaches lazily for a bottle near your elbow. "What's this one?" he asks, holding it up to the light. "Retinol," you mumble through a layer of moisturizer.

"What's that do?"

"Helps with texture, aging, breakouts..." Jake squints at the label, then back at you. "You don't need it. Your skin's already perfect."

You roll your eyes, smiling as Sunghoon strolls in from the en-suite bathroom with his iPad in hand, his hair still damp from the shower and slightly curled at the ends. "So," he says, casual but decisive, "if we're doing the trip for my birthday, we need to start looking now. Summer houses go fast—especially the good ones."

You glance at him in the mirror. "Should I pitch in?"

Jake doesn't even let you finish the sentence before he lets out this loud, incredulous laugh—one of those half-snorted ones where he buries his face in the bedspread like he can't believe what he's hearing. "Oh my god," he wheezes. You blink. "What?" Jake props himself up on one elbow, smirking at you with faux seriousness. "Baby. Sunghoon would rather die. Like, full-stop, cease to exist rather than let you drop a cent on something." Sunghoon doesn't even deny it. He just stands there, arms crossed, and lifts a brow like, obviously. You narrow your eyes, trying to fight back a smile. "That's not really fair—"

"It's not about fair," Sunghoon says calmly. "It's my birthday. My trip. And I want to pay for it." Jake nods solemnly behind you. "He's been rich and repressed since birth, princess. Let him use his trauma the way he wants." You giggle despite yourself. "But I can contribute—"

"No," Sunghoon interrupts, voice a touch firmer, but his gaze is soft. "You don't have to. That's the whole point." Jake whistles low under his breath. "You're not gonna win this one. He's gonna book some insane beach mansion with like...six bedrooms, two hot tubs, and a private chef, and you're just gonna have to sit there looking pretty and being spoiled." He grins like he lives for that visual. Sunghoon meets your eyes through the mirror, tilting his head. "Exactly."

And yeah, it's hard to keep arguing when they both look at you like you're the best part of every plan they've ever made.

The warm light glows softly against your skin as you sit at the vanity, carefully patting essence into your cheeks, lips slightly parted in focus again. Sunghoon is now pacing slowly across the room with his iPad in one hand, thumb scrolling as he mumbles something about beach rentals and peak season prices. You're only half-listening to Jake's little rant about why citrus scents are superior to woody ones in candles when the thought blurts out of you, calm and curious. "What's your body count?" Jake groans like he's been wounded, falling back onto the mattress with a dramatic flail. "Jesus, baby. You've been on a roll with these questions tonight."

Sunghoon just looks up from his iPad, lips quirking into a small smile. He doesn't speak right away, just watches you for a second, like he's unsure if you're being serious or poking at them again. "I'm just curious," you hum, flipping open your lip mask container, totally nonchalant. Jake shifts onto his side, watching you. "You curious or you looking for a reason to judge us?" You smirk at his tone, deliberately slow as you apply the lip mask. "Why would I judge? I already know you were a menace." Sunghoon makes a soft snorting sound behind you.

You glance over your shoulder at him. "Well?"

"I think I liked it better when you asked if we ever fought over dick size," he replies dryly, eyes back on the iPad but the edge of his mouth betrays a smile.

Jake's still watching you, lips twitching up but still withholding the answer. You roll your eyes and pout at the mirror. "Fine. Mine's three."

The room goes silent. You glance back just in time to watch Jake's face fall. His smile slips first, just a twitch of confusion that spreads into something heavier. His brows draw together, mouth parting. Sunghoon doesn't even move at first, doesn't blink—he's frozen mid-scroll, his eyes flicking up to you.

Jake is the first to speak. Quiet, disbelieving. "Th—Three?" And Sunghoon, voice low, strained, "Who was the third?" You stare at them both, blankly for a second, before, "Oh my god," you burst out, laughing as you spin around on the stool. "I'm joking!"

Jake exhales so hard he practically deflates, his palm dragging down his face. "You—holy shit, that's not funny." Sunghoon finally sets the iPad down, closing his eyes with a visible exhale of tension. "Don't do that." You're still giggling, covering your mouth. "You should've seen your faces. I've never seen you two panic that fast." Jake groans again. "Don't say three like that. You really scared me."

"Well, I didn't know you cared," you tease, stretching your foot to where Jake is on the bed and he grabs it, just like you knew he would. Sunghoon walks past the end of the bed toward the mini-fridge in the corner, murmuring, "It's not about caring. It's about...statistics."

"Statistics?" you echo, raising a brow. "Yeah," Jake mutters beside you, eyes closed as he drops back again. "Statistically, if there was a third, one of us missed something big." You lean your chin into your hand, watching them both fondly. "You guys are—I don’t even know." Sunghoon returns to his pacing, water bottle in one hand, iPad in the other, and then suddenly turns on his heel. "Okay, what do we think of this one?" he asks, stepping toward the bed. He walks over to you and Jake and crouches just enough to tilt the screen toward you both. On display is a photo of a stunning beach house—sleek, modern, with huge windows and a private pool overlooking the ocean. The kind of place that makes you instinctively lean forward and say, "Wait, what?"

Your eyes widen, immediately suspicious. "This is gorgeous. But..." You squint at the corner of the screen, where Sunghoon's finger is very deliberately planted. "Why is your finger covering the price?" Jake lets out a low chuckle beside you, already sensing where this is going. Sunghoon's mouth pulls into a faint, sly smile. "Do you like it or not?"

"Sunghoon."

"I'm serious. Just say if you like it."

"I do, but—how much is it?"

"That's not relevant." Jake actually laughs this time, dropping his head back on the mattress with a soft thud. "Oh, he's doing that thing again." You glance between them. "What thing?" Jake lifts a hand toward Sunghoon, still chuckling. "The thing where he hides the cost because he knows if you see it, you'll freak out and say no, and he'd rather just book it and deal with your protests later." Sunghoon doesn't deny it. He just gives you a long, measured look. "It's a nice house. Very private. Ocean access. You won't have to see a single stranger all weekend unless you want to."

"But how—"

"Do you like it or not," he repeats, firmer this time but still calm. You gape at him, baffled and kind of impressed by the level of audacity. "I mean, yeah, it's beautiful, but—Sunghoon, seriously, how much is it?"

He just blinks, completely unfazed. "Would you rather stay in a motel with sand in the sheets and a rusty AC unit?" Jake raises a hand in mock surrender. "He's got a point." You shoot Jake a half-hearted glare, but he just grins at you lazily, clearly enjoying the whole exchange. Sunghoon finally relents with a small smirk, standing back up. "Look. If you hate it, we'll find something else. But I want you to relax. This trip is supposed to be good for us." Jake hums in agreement, nudging your ankle with his foot. "Yeah, no stress. Let richie rich do his thing." You narrow your eyes. "I feel like I'm being manipulated." Sunghoon leans down just enough to press a kiss to the top of your head as he murmurs, "You are. Now pick out a swimsuit or something." Jake snorts into his arm. "She's not even packed yet and you're telling her to pick out swimwear." Sunghoon shrugs, walking back toward the desk. "Manifesting." Jake shifts a little closer on the bed, pulling out his phone with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Alright," he says, unlocking it, "if Hoon's gonna bully us into luxury accommodations, I think it's only fair I get to pick your bikinis."

You blink. "My bikinis?" He smirks. "For the trip. You're gonna need some new ones, right?" Before you can protest, he's already scrolling through some sleek, minimalist swimwear site—gorgeous models, sun-drenched beaches, and little strings that don't look like they'd cover much more than a scrunchie. You sigh but lean in anyway, your shoulder brushing his, your chin nearly on his shoulder as you settle beside him. "Okay fine," you murmur, cozy, the back of your hand skimming his thigh as you try to keep up with the screen. Jake grins when he feels you cuddle into him. "I knew that'd get you." He scrolls a bit more, swiping through a few options until one catches his eye—a baby blue bikini, simple but flattering, with gold rings on the sides. "Ooh, this one would look good on you—what's your favorite color, by the way?" He raises his voice slightly. "Hoonie, come check this one out." From the desk, Sunghoon glances up briefly, mildly curious but still scrolling. "Send it to me."

Jake doesn't get the chance. Because you go very still beside him, eyes narrowing at the price listed under the bikini set. "Jake," you say flatly. "Why are the bikinis two hundred and fifty dollars?" Jake pauses mid-scroll. "Huh?" You reach over and point, jabbing the screen. "That. Right there. That's the top. Just the top. It's one hundred and thirty-two before taxes." Jake blinks, then slowly turns his head to you with a sheepish little grin. "Should I have hidden the prices too?" You gape. "What do you mean too?!"

Sunghoon, without even turning around, mutters, "I warned you." You groan and drop your head into Jake's shoulder. "You guys live in an alternate reality."

Jake laughs, deep and warm, sliding his arm around your waist to tug you closer. "Yeah, well, welcome to it." You shake your head, still appalled. "Two hundred fifty dollars for something that covers maybe three square inches."

Jake grins. "Two inches if I'm lucky."

"Jake."

"I'm just saying." He holds the phone up again, brows raised. "So... you like the blue one or should I keep scrolling?" You sigh but nuzzle deeper into his side, warm and soft against him. "Keep scrolling." Sunghoon finally gets up and walks over, standing behind the two of you. "Get her the black one," he says casually, pointing. "It'll look better with her skin tone."

You look up at him. "Do I get a say in this?"

"No," they both say at the same time. You groan again but it's drowned by Jake's quiet chuckle and the gentle way Sunghoon's fingers come down to brush your jaw for a moment, his voice a little softer now, "It's gonna be a good trip."

Midterms came and went in a whirlwind of caffeine, group study sessions, and the constant shuffle of flashcards and highlighters. The apartment felt more like a war zone than a shared living space with Sunghoon's untouched protein shakes gathering condensation beside his laptop while he grumbled over math formulas, and Jake flopped dramatically on the living room rug muttering, "If I get a single A this semester, that'll be my miracle."

When results finally came in, Jake stared at his laptop in disbelief for a good ten seconds before deadpanning, "I think I actually got Cs on all of them. Which is kind of impressive, in a way." He was mostly kidding, he passed everything, but not by the margins his parents would've hoped for. He celebrated anyway, calling himself a smarty pants while Sunghoon shushed him from across the room.

Yunjin still wasn't speaking to you. Not when you passed her in the library. Not when you held the elevator for her. Not even when you sent her a short, cautious message letting her know you'd be out of town for a few days. She'd read it, left you on delivered for a day and then read, but never replied. And maybe that was fine. Maybe it wasn't. Either way, there wasn't time to sit with it for too long.

The week passed quickly, and then suddenly, it was Thursday. The morning of the trip bloomed early and bright. You packed the last of your things before sunrise, half-listening to Jake and Sunghoon move around the apartment like shadows. There was laughter, a few yells about someone forgetting the charger or where the sunscreen was packed, and a loud debate about whether to bring the little Bluetooth speaker. You left just after 10 a.m. Jake's Jeep Wrangler waited outside like something out of a summer movie—top off, back loaded with bags and coolers, Sunghoon's sunglasses already perched on his nose as he leaned against the passenger door checking the GPS. Jake wore a sleeveless white tank and black cargos, all golden skin and lazy smiles as he helped you into the front seat like it was some kind of ritual. Your dress—a soft, floaty sundress with thin straps and a neckline that made Jake do a double take—billowed slightly in the breeze.

"Got everything?" he asked, sliding into the driver's seat. "Yep," you nodded, adjusting your sunglasses.

"You look like trouble," he grinned, and when you rolled your eyes, he added under his breath, "The best kind." The road stretched out endlessly ahead, smooth and wide and sun-warmed. You passed gas stations and tiny roadside diners, the hum of tires and the low thrum of music from the speakers wrapping around you like a slow lullaby. It was loud sometimes—Jake drumming on the steering wheel, Sunghoon reading out Yelp reviews for lunch spots in voices that made you giggle—but there were soft moments too. Fingers brushing your knee. Jake tilting his head back to soak in the wind. Sunghoon stretching out his arm to rest over the backseat casually, turning to look at you both when he thought you weren't paying attention.

Three hours in, you stopped for gas and iced coffee. Sunghoon traded places with Jake—who immediately beelined for the passenger seat and pulled you with him. You were still blinking sleepily from the lull of the drive, half-curled into the corner of the front seat when Jake caught your wrist gently and tugged you down.

"C'mere, baby," he murmured, spreading his legs slightly and settling you between them. His shirt was bunched behind your back now, arms wrapped around your waist like a seatbelt as he got you comfortable in his lap. "Shouldn't I be wearing a seatbelt?" you mumbled, nose brushing his throat. "Nah," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss just behind your ear, "I've got you." He smelled like sunscreen and leather and the faint citrus of whatever body wash he used, and you sighed into him as the Jeep started moving again, the road stretching farther and the sun tilting golden through your sunglasses. Wind tangled your hair. Jake's hand smoothed over your thigh lazily, his other arm looped around your waist as he hummed to the music. You dozed like that for a while, safe and warm in his arms, your sundress brushing the edge of his shorts, your head tucked under his chin, Sunghoon's voice a calm rhythm in the background as he drove.

And just like that, the weekend had begun. Sunghoon's birthday was only two days away. The vacation was waiting. The waves. The slow, decadent hours that would stretch between now and Monday. You didn't know what was coming yet. But for now, in that Jeep, sun-soaked and held like something precious, everything was still whole. The house was huge, washed in soft ivory paint and modern wood accents with high windows that opened to a view of the ocean so blue it looked stunning. It sat perched on a soft cliffside, where a private wooden path led down to the sand. Inside, the space was open and breezy, clean, modern, but cozy too. You all wandered room to room, calling dibs and tossing bags around, the boys marveling at the sound system and built-in grill while you gasped at the oversized bathroom mirror.

Thursday evening passed lazily. You all sat out on the back patio with drinks and takeout from the only decent place you could find nearby. Jake turned on music from his phone and danced around with a glass of Coke while Sunghoon grilled shrimp skewers and told you both to stop acting like children. You stayed up past midnight, bare-faced, barefoot, skin glowing from the salty breeze, and not a care in the world. Now it was Friday afternoon, and your vibe was completely different. You were standing in front of the mirror, a bright green bikini top clinging to your chest like a second skin. It was cuteor it would've been if it fit properly. But it was a full two sizes too small. You'd only just now realized that the sizes on the site had been in European metrics. All of them. Every single one Jake had ordered with you. The bottoms were worse—low rise and barely-there, and the top? Let's just say one good wave and you were going to be the entertainment for the whole beach.

Downstairs, you could hear the impatient tapping of flip-flops and Jake's familiar voice calling out, "Baby? Seriously? The sun's gonna set before we get there if you don't hurry." You panicked. "Can you guys come up here?" your voice carried, laced with confusion and mild distress. A beat passed before the footsteps and then Jake's voice again. "Why? What's—oh. Oh." He stopped in the doorway. You turned around slowly, crossing your arms over your chest instinctively. "They're all like this," you muttered. "All the bikinis. Every single one is...I don't even know how." Jake blinked at you like he couldn't decide whether to laugh or melt into the ground. "I—okay. Wait. Wait. Let me see."

"Jake—"

"No, seriously. I just...I need a second." He stepped in fully, eyes wide, gaze raking over you, then darting away. "Oh fuck." At that moment, Sunghoon appeared in the doorway too. "What's taking so—" His words cut off the second he laid eyes on you and he visibly froze.

His hand tightened on the frame of the door, and his brows lifted just slightly before he glanced at Jake and then back at you. "Is that the one I picked?" he asked carefully. You blinked. "They're all like this." A long silence passed. Then, Sunghoon, lips twitching like he was fighting back a smirk, looked straight at Jake and deadpanned, "Did you do this on purpose?" Jake barked a laugh. "No! Obviously not. Do you think I want her to get heat stroke because her ass is basically out?"

"You don't seem that mad about it," you said, narrowing your eyes. "I'm not mad about how it looks," Jake said shamelessly. "I'm mad we're going to be late because now I'm thinking about pushing the whole beach day back until tomorrow." Sunghoon walked in slowly now, finally getting his composure back, though his eyes still lingered. "You're not wearing that out there," he murmured, reaching forward to tug one of the straps gently, watching it snap back into place with a disapproving shake of his head. "You'll be on some guy's Snapchat story before you even touch the sand."

"But we don't have anything else," you groaned. "And the stores here are so overpriced—" Jake was already pulling out his phone. "We can order you something express. Overnight delivery. Worst case, we drive into the town in the morning." Sunghoon exhaled and nodded. "For today...you can wear one of our shirts and your shorts to the beach. That way you still get sun, and you don't have to worry about this whole wardrobe malfunction thing." You huffed. "I was supposed to be hot today." Jake leaned down, pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder. "You are hot today." Sunghoon's voice, quiet and amused, "Too hot, actually." Jake sighed dramatically. "Okay, beach. Let's move.

The beach was almost eerily perfect, in a way that made you feel like you were dreaming, it was secluded, sun-drenched, and quiet save for the gentle lap of waves and the occasional distant laugh from another couple several cabanas down. The air smelled like coconut sunscreen and salt, and the sand was warm enough to sink your toes into without flinching. Sunghoon had splurged on the fanciest cabana available, of course—sleek wooden framing, gauzy white curtains, plush daybeds. It looked like something out of a magazine editorial, and Jake had immediately stretched out on one of the loungers like he owned the place. You'd barely set your tote down before Jake grinned and took off running. "Jake—!" You blinked, startled, before chasing after him barefoot through the sand, laughing as you ran. Sunghoon didn't say a word, just shook his head with a rare, fond smile and then took off behind you both, his long legs easily overtaking yours. Jake was first and Sunghoon let you win.

You all collapsed on the sand, breathless and red-faced from laughter. You caught a glimpse of Sunghoon genuinely laughing, his head tipped back, hair messy from the ocean breeze, and your heart hurt a little. You didn't realize how rare it was for you to see him like that. "I don't run unless I'm getting paid," he muttered, sand stuck to his chest and forearms. You eventually made your way to the water. Sunghoon didn't wait, he came up behind you, arms around your waist, and with an effortless lift, carried you into the ocean. Your legs instinctively wrapped around him, and he grinned, saltwater dripping from his lashes.

"This is cheating," you whispered breathlessly, hands tangled in his wet hair. He kissed you once, then again—slow, easy, like you weren't waist-deep in ocean water. When you pulled back, dazed, you noticed Jake watching from a few feet away, not with jealousy or anything of the sort, but with admiration. He looked like he was thanking every god for this getaway and it drew you to him, kissing him too, this one more playful, mouths smiling into each other, noses bumping. His hands were warm on your back despite the chill of the ocean. It didn't take long before both boys were getting competitive again, scooping sand in their palms and chasing you up the beach with it. You shrieked, half-laughing, half-running, but they were faster, and grinning so evil when they caught up. Two sandy handprints landed square on your ass, one slightly higher than the other. "Seriously?" you gasped.

"Matching set," Jake grinned, brushing more sand onto the curve of your hip for symmetry. Later, you found out Jake had posted a picture on his private Instagram story—just your back, bikini bottoms, and two very clear sandy handprints with no caption. The sun was setting when the three of you made your way back up the private trail to the beach house on foot, flip-flops dangling from your fingers, towels wrapped lazily around your waists. You were sandy and soaked and sun-drunk. The sky was pink now. Sunghoon opened the door for you, but you were already tugging your bikini straps down under Jake's shirt before you even crossed the threshold. "I am not getting sand all over this house," you muttered, stepping out of your bottoms and shaking them out before dropping them by the door. Jake laughed from behind you, watching you shimmy out of your bikini top, wearing nothing but his oversized shirt from earlier in the day.

"Hmm," he hummed, walking up behind you. You barely had time to register the heat in his voice before his hands were on your waist, pulling you back against him. Sunghoon lingered in the corner, towel slung over one shoulder, watching quietly, but his eyes were dark, tracking the way Jake kissed down your neck, how you arched a little when Jake's hands slipped under the hem of his own shirt. "You're really just—doing this right here?" Sunghoon asked, but his voice was low, interested, not judging.

Jake glanced back at him, smirking. "What, you're shy now?" He asked as he drags you to the couch, and pressing you there, it's deliberate with his knee between your legs and his hands in your hair. His lips are warm and persistent, tongue sliding against yours like he's coaxing you open for him, like he has all the time in the world and he's planning to use it. Sunghoon's still nearby. You feel his presence before you feel his touch, his arm brushing against yours as he settles in behind you. His hand finds your bare thigh, warm and steady, sliding up just enough to make you breathe a little harder. Jake breaks the kiss to look at him. "You're just gonna sit there?" Sunghoon smirks a little. "You were busy."

"She's not just mine, you know?" Jake says, turning back to you, his mouth already hovering close again. "Let him kiss you, baby." You blink up at him, flushed, and then turn your head to Sunghoon. He doesn't ask. Just leans in and kisses you, slower than Jake, deeper, like he's learning you all over again. His hand rests on your cheek, fingers brushing your jaw. When Jake's hand slides under his shirt, teasing your nipples, Sunghoon deepens the kiss, swallowing the sound you make in your throat. Jake laughs quietly. "So obedient," he murmurs against your neck, biting gently. "You always let him kiss you like that when I'm watching?" You can't even answer. Their hands are everywhere now, Jake is palming your breast, Sunghoon's thumb stroking your thigh, pushing the hem of your shirt higher, higher. You shiver. Sunghoon pulls away just enough to look at you. "You okay?"

You nod quickly. "Yeah. I—yeah." Jake's grin sharpens. He leans in again, brushing his lips against your ear.

"Wanna show him what you got him for his birthday?"

You go still. Your breath catches hard in your throat. "Jake—" Sunghoon looks confused at first. "What?" Jake's voice is low now, hot against your ear. "Come on. Don't be shy. He's been so good today. You know he'll love it." You hesitate, heart pounding, your skin prickling as heat floods through you. Jake's fingers trail down your spine, featherlight.

"You said you wanted to be his gift, his birthday is in a few hours," he whispers, "so give it to him." You glance at Sunghoon. He's watching you closely now, his expression a mix of curiosity and hunger, like he's not sure what you're about to do but he wants it. Badly. So you shift on your knees, above Jake, and with shaky hands, you pull down the waistband of your shorts just enough. Enough for him to see it. The soft, glinting edge of the buttplug catches the light—delicate, blush pink, shaped like a bow. It fits snug between the curve of your cheeks, resting there with perfect intention. You shift slightly, thighs pressing together, back arched just enough.. "Is that...?"

"You can fuck her here, baby," Jake says behind you, tapping your ass cheek with one finger, his voice proud as he brushes your hair off your shoulder so he can kiss your neck. "Kept her like that all week. For you." Sunghoon doesn't move for a second. He's stunned. And then he exhales, almost like a groan, dragging a hand through his hair as his gaze drops to your ass again. "You're kidding," he mutters. "You actually..."

"She wanted to," Jake says, dragging his hand down your back, then squeezing. "She asked. You should've seen her last week, all squirmy and shy and so fucking wet the second I put it in. Had to eat her pussy so she'd stop whining." Sunghoon looks dazed. "Holy shit." You feel Jake smile against your shoulder. There's a long pause. Then the pad of Sunghoon's thumb trails lightly down the curve of your spine, featherlight, until he reaches just above the plug. He doesn't touch it. Not yet. He just lets his hand rest there.

"You've never done this before." It's not a question. He already knows. You shake your head, glancing at him over your shoulder. "No." Something in his expression shifts—something slow and low and almost solemn, like he's trying not to break something delicate in front of him. Jake watches him carefully. "Well?" he prompts. "You gonna thank her, birthday boy?" Sunghoon smiles faintly. It's crooked, quiet, full of everything he doesn't say out loud. "With you sitting over there like a smug little shit?"

Jake just grins wider. "Then come get your girl, Hoon."

"Told you he'd like it, baby." Jake says, nuzzling his nose in your neck. "Best birthday ever?"

"Best fucking birthday ever." Sunghoon muttered as he got on his knees, behind you, pressing you further into Jake so you were perfectly arched, with your ass and pussy directly in his face. He stared at the buttplug for a second longer before pulling it out slowly, watching how your body reacted to the object being removed from you. And audibly groaning at the whimper you make. The moment his tongue made contact with your dripping heat, your entire body tensed, a quiet gasp slipping from your lips as your nails dug into Jake's shoulders. "Shit," he hissed under his breath, his voice vibrating against your skin. "You're unreal."

Your lashes fluttered as you melted into the feeling, a soft moan escaping while your hips instinctively rolled toward his mouth. Sunghoon shifted lower, tongue diving deep before dragging back up slowly, deliberately. Then he started mouthing at you—messy, open-mouthed kisses that left your thighs trembling. His tongue circled your clit lazily, then slid back down again, tasting everything. "I didn't even know I wanted this," he murmured, voice husky, sending a chill up your spine. One of his hands splayed across your lower back, gently coaxing you closer to Jake, who held you steady like an anchor in the storm.

"Easy," Jake whispered, brushing a kiss to your temple. "Just breathe, baby."

Then Sunghoon's tongue slipped somewhere new—somewhere you thought the plug had prepared you for. A startled cry ripped from your throat as your body jolted, clutching at Jake in shock. The sensation was foreign, startling, and then the pleasure began to bloom. Sunghoon held you open with both hands, tongue exploring without hesitation, while Jake's fingers found your clit and started working slow, maddening circles over it. "That's it," Jake murmured, watching your expression melt. "That's my good girl. You like that?" You tried to respond, to say anything, but then Sunghoon pushed deeper, his tongue breaching you completely, and a broken, helpless moan tore free from your chest.

"Ah—Hoonie!" The feeling was indescribable—so intense and overwhelming, your mind could barely keep up. He moved between your openings with practiced ease—one second his tongue was circling your tightest rim, the next he was dragging a slow, obscene lick down to your soaked pussy. A low groan rumbled from his chest, lips slick as he devoured everything you gave him, like he couldn't get enough.

"Can I use my finger?" he asked, voice rough with want. You nodded with a shaky inhale, and Jake brushed another kiss to your cheek, his fingers still rubbing tight, unrelenting circles over your clit that made your thighs tremble.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Sunghoon muttered, one slick-coated finger gently circling your puckered entrance, playing with the sensitive muscle but holding back from fully pushing in—just yet.

When your body finally softens against Sunghoon's, he eases a finger in, pushing just past the entrance before pausing. "Do you want me to stop?" he asks, his voice quieter than usual, checking your reaction. Your answer was muffled, your face buried in the curve of Jake's neck, a quiet, shaky, "No." Jake lifts his head to speak for you. "She said no." Sunghoon's finger presses in deeper, slick with your arousal as he gently works you open. His movements are slow, precise, and devoted—though the way his jaw clenched betrays just how badly he wanted to lose control. He lets out a sharp breath through his nose as he watches the way your spine arcs, your body pressed close to Jake's, the tight clench of muscle around his finger making his cock twitch in anticipation.

"Just like that," he murmurs. You inhale sharply when a second finger slips in beside the first, stretching you further. The sensation is unfamiliar, even bordering on too much—but his patience grounds you. Jake's fingers lazily circle your clit while his mouth trails along your collarbone, muttering soft praise against your skin. "Perfect, baby. You're doing so perfect." The moment Sunghoon is confident you're ready, and satisfied with how pilant you've become, he withdraws with shaking hands and fumbles at the waistband of his shorts. His cock sprang free, red and swollen, the tension in his body palpable as he positions himself behind you. One hand sliding to your lower back, gently pushing you down into Jake's chest while his mouth ghosted over your shoulder.

"Go slow, Hoonie," Jake whispers, tilting your face to his and licking at your bottom lip in a sweet distraction. Sunghoon gives him a subtle nod, and for a moment, it really looked like he'd listen—until his palm lands hard across your ass with a sharp slap. "Ah!"

"You've been walking around with a plug in you all week like a filthy little slut," he growled. "You knew I'd lose my mind over it, didn't you, baby?" One hand grips your waist firmly while the other guides his cock to your entrance. The first press of him inside has you whimpering instantly. Jake was quick to soothe you though, brushing his lips against your ear. "It's okay, princess," "it's gonna feel so good real soon, I promise." He lowers his head to capture your nipple in his mouth, gently sucking as you try to catch your breath. Behind you, Sunghoon groans, full-bodied and desperate. "Fucking hell. So tight—Jesus Christ." His restraint was unraveling by the second. Jake's hand trails down, spreading you wider to give Sunghoon better access, and the sound that tears from him is downright feral. "Oh, fuck—Jake—yeah, just like that."

Jake doesn't stop. One hand holds you open while the other resumes slow, deliberate circles over your clit, making your thighs tremble. "Yunnie—" you gasp, voice cracking as you whine his name into his ear.

He smiles against your cheek. "Yeah, pretty girl? You like that?" "You like Hoonie fucking your tight little hole open?" You nod frantically, eyes glassy and unfocused, pleasure washing over your features like a   fever. Jake coos sweetly, lips ghosting over your cheek.

"Aww, does it feel good, baby?" he asks, fingers never slowing on your clit. Your voice comes out barely above a whisper, breathless and shaky. "Faster..." That one word sends a ripple through the air. Neither of them ask who you're talking to—both of them just react. Jake's fingers quicken, pressing tighter, circling faster, more precise. Behind you, Sunghoon grunts low in his throat and adjusts his grip on your hips, driving into you with sharper, deeper thrusts now, dragging loud moans from your throat with every push. The stretch has your legs trembling, your body sandwiched between them, completely overwhelmed. Jake kisses the corner of your mouth, not breaking rhythm for a second. "So needy, huh? You want both of us to ruin you, is that it?"

Sunghoon's fingers dig harder into your waist. "Look at her," he rasps. "Can barely keep her eyes open." Your breath stutters again as Jake slides two fingers into your mouth, letting you suck them automatically. "That's it," Jake whispered. "Good girl. Just take it."

Sunghoon's hips snap harder now, every thrust making your body jolt forward into Jake's chest. He hisses at the feel of you clenching, practically growling through his teeth. "She's squeezing me so tight."

"Because she's close," Jake smirked, pulling his fingers from your mouth to pinch your nipple. "Aren't you, pretty baby?" You can't even speak—just another frantic nod, a sob of pleasure tearing out of your throat as the pace refuses to let up. It's too much, but you don't want it to stop. You can't even imagine asking them to stop. And neither of them plan to. Just as your legs begin to shake, as the pleasure surging to unbearable heights, Sunghoon grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks you upright off Jake's chest with startling ease. You gasp, dizzy from the sudden movement, your body still fluttering from the stimulation. "Open your mouth, baby" he orders, voice dark and low. "Suck Yunnie off." Jake's eyes widen for a split second, but he was already pulling his shorts down, cock flushed and leaking. He guides it to your lips, and the second you part them, he groans—loud, shameless, head tilting back as he sinks into your warmth. "Fuck—so obedient, baby," Jake pants, cupping your face as you take him deeper. "God, you're perfect. Just like that." You moan around him, tongue swirling, letting him fuck into your mouth with shallow thrusts. But the moment is cut sharp when Sunghoon's palm lands on your ass again—hard and punishing. You jolt, muffled whimper vibrating around Jake's cock. "She's so good," Sunghoon mumbles behind you like he can't believe it, voice wrecked, hips slamming into you now with barely restrained aggression. "Tight little hole—fuck, I can't..."

Your body is bouncing between them, stretched, full, completely claimed. Jake is panting through gritted teeth, hands trembling as he tries to control himself. "She's gonna make me cum—shit, you're gonna make me—" Sunghoon growls, wrapping an arm around your waist and driving into you so deep your entire body shudders. "Don't you dare finish before her." Jake groans like it physically hurts to stop but pulls back slightly, just enough for you to suck the tip, desperate and messy, while Sunghoon fucks you into the edge.

"You close, baby?" Sunghoon asks, voice broken. "You gonna cum all over my cock like a good little slut?"

Your moan is the only answer he needs. Sunghoon reaches down himself to circle your clit with practiced fingers and you absolutely break—body tensing, legs trembling, a high-pitch cry escaping past Jake's cock as your orgasm rips through you like a violent wave. "That's it," Jake whispers, watching your eyes roll back, "Good girl, fuck—look at you."

Sunghoon curses under his breath, hips stuttering as he finally lets go, spilling deep inside you with a loud moan, his forehead pressed to your shoulder. You're a trembling, boneless mess between them—used, adored, completely undone. But your mouth never stops sucking Jake off, his grip tightens in your hair as your lips work over him, cheeks hollowed, eyes glassy from overstimulation. He was already close—your tongue too eager, your mouth too warm, and your throat too obedient. "Fuck—gonna cum," he says, trying to pull back, but you suck harder, moaning around him as if daring him to finish there. "Wait—baby, swallow it—like I like—" Too late. You already were. Your throat bobs with each swallow, taking every last drop before he even finishes the command. Jake stares down at you, chest heaving. "Jesus Christ," he breathes, his cock twitching in your mouth. "That was so fucking hot."

When he finally slips free, you look dazed, lips swollen and glossy with spit, eyes fluttering as if trying to hold on to consciousness. Sunghoon still has you gripped by the waist, slowly pulling out, and you whimper from the sheer sensitivity, his cum immediately beginning to drip from your hole. Your legs give out but they catch you before you hit the floor, gently guiding you down onto the couch. You collapse sideways, chest rising and falling fast, totally limp, dazed and trembling. Neither of them speak for a second—both staring at the way Sunghoon's cum leaks from your freshly used hole, trailing slow and thick down your thighs and onto the leather. Jake adjusts himself, sweat-slick and still catching his breath, watching you like you were art. "Fuck," he whispers. "That's—Fuck."

Sunghoon stays crouched beside you, thumb brushing gently over your hip. He doesn’t say anything at first. Just watches. Quiet and intense with his jaw clenched.

Your breathing is shallow now, your body utterly spent, limbs heavy and tingling from the overstimulation. The room is silent save for Jake's slow, steady breaths where he's slumped back against the couch, almost half-asleep and completely blissed out. Sunghoon doesn’t say anything at first. He just looks at you—really looks at you, eyes slowly sweeping over your trembling frame, the marks on your hips, the slick mess between your thighs. Then he moves gently, one arm sliding beneath your knees, the other curling behind your back.

You can’t even protest as he picked you up, bridal-style, tucking your head against his chest. "Are you sore?" he murmurs as he carries you into the bathroom. His voice has lost all its edge, soft and concerned now, like every piece of him is now tuned to you. "Do you need anything? Water?" You shake your head sleepily, just clinging to him. He kisses the top of your head pulling you into the warm shower. He’s so careful with you, moving slowly, running his soapy hands down your back and legs, washing your hair, and massaging your scalp, whispering how good you were, how proud he is of you. You barely say a word, just hum softly and lean into him, letting him take care of everything.

Afterward, he towel-dries you with gentle strokes, slips one of his oversized shirts over your head, and helps you into bed. He comes back out into the living room freshly showered in only his sweats, glancing over at the couch where Jake is still out cold. "Jake," he calls, voice low but firm. "Go shower. Come to bed." Jake grumbles, half-laughs, but drags himself up, muttering something about needing ten minutes and a gallon of water. By the time he joins you both in bed, the lights were dim, and Sunghoon has you cradled against his chest, your body finally starting to relax in the warmth and comfort of his hold. Jake slides in behind you, arm draped lazily over your waist. You blink up at Sunghoon, your lips brushing his cheek in a slow, grateful kiss. "Happy birthday, Hoonie." He stills. And then he smiles—soft and rare, a kind of vulnerable happiness blooming in his eyes as he looks down at you. "You really are everything, baby." He whispers back.

The light spilling in through the white linen curtains is soft and golden, the kind that only happens near the ocean—quiet, slow, and drenched in warmth. You wake to the scent of salt and boyish musk, buried between the two people you've come to crave like breath. Jake is sprawled on your left, arm thrown haphazardly around your waist, his cheek smushed against the pillow. Sunghoon is to your right, chest bare, lashes fluttering ever so slightly as he sleeps. You feel the dull ache between your thighs—the kind you've come to love, the kind that reminds you of everything they did to you the night before. It's intimate, almost sweet in its soreness. Like a love letter written in bruises and breathless moans.

Carefully, you shift to sit up, brushing your hair from your face. But in your movement, your hand slips just slightly across the waistband of Sunghoon's boxers, pressing against the very obvious morning effect there. He groans softly through a smirk, eyes still closed. "Didn't get enough yesterday, pretty girl?" His voice is deep and gravelly with sleep, thick like honey. You flush but smile, heart fluttering. Leaning down, you kiss him gently, your lips brushing his like a secret. "Happy birthday, baby," you whisper, fingers brushing his hair back. He finally opens his eyes, they're glassy with sleep but locked on you. One hand snakes around your waist and pulls you down so you're flush against his chest, sprawled on top of him. "Thank you," he murmurs, hands splayed across your back. "You're the best gift I've ever gotten."

Behind you, Jake groans and stretches, the sheets rustling. "Ugh, what time is it?" he mumbles, voice muffled against the pillow. Then he turns, eyes still half-shut, and reaches over your body to cup Sunghoon's jaw. He leans in and kisses him, lazy and affectionate. "Happy birthday, babe," he mutters, his voice low and warm. Sunghoon chuckles beneath you, the vibration rippling through your chest. "Best way to wake up," he says. You're wrapped up in limbs and heat and love—one boy beneath you, one boy beside you, both of them looking at you like you're theirs. And you are, you can tell in the way  Sunghoon's fingers are lazy where they trace patterns on your bare back, and you're still laying on top of him when he speaks, voice muffled slightly by your hair. "So," he hums, "what should we do today?" You lift your head just a little, looking down at him, lips brushing his jaw. Jake's arm tightens around your waist from behind, like he doesn't want to give you up just yet. You hum too, thinking, but Jake's the one who answers first.

"We could invite a few of our friends up," he says casually, his voice still thick with sleep. "Just something chill. Intimate." Sunghoon snorts beneath you. "No one's gonna drive six hours to celebrate my birthday." You stifle a laugh and mumble, "I don't even have any friends," your tone a little too dry, the snort at the end giving away how little you care. Jake groans like you've personally offended him. "That's not true," he sighs, leaning up on one elbow to look at you, brow furrowed. "You have us." You twist around to meet his eyes and raise a brow. "You're not my friends." Your tone is calm, almost thoughtful. "Actually, I've been thinking...I kind of want to make new ones. Maybe girls, I need to be around less testosterone."

There's a pause. Sunghoon grunts underneath you like he's just been stabbed, his hands tightening ever so slightly on your hips. Jake scoffs. "You say girls like we'd allow it be guys."

"Jungwon's cool," Jake adds after a beat, tone a little brighter, like he's offering a genuine solution. "We could all hang out more with him when we get back." That earns an actual laugh from Sunghoon, sharp and smug. "Why are you pushing this Jungwon agenda so hard?" Jake's head snaps to him. "Because he's sweet," he says, almost defensive, like he's ready to argue. "And normal. He's not weirdly obsessed with stock prices or adrenaline or—" he gestures toward Sunghoon, "—being emotionally constipated." You groan and start crawling over Sunghoon's chest, pushing your hair back as you rise up on your knees. "I'll pass on Jungwon, I want girlfriends, " you say with a sigh, standing at the edge of the bed and stretching, "also because I can't even look him in the eye without picturing you—" You turn and point at Sunghoon, "—bending him over." Jake chokes on a laugh while Sunghoon groans, covering his face with a pillow. You grin wickedly, bend at the waist in full theatrical performance, and moan, "Sunghoon—ahh, fuck, right there!" tossing your head back dramatically like you imagine Jungwon must've. Jake loses it, flopping onto his back in laughter, and Sunghoon pulls the pillow off just to glare playfully at you.

"Minx," he mutters. Jake props himself up against the headboard, sheet sliding low on his hips, eyes still a little puffy with sleep but already gleaming with mischief. "Okay but seriously," he starts, raking a hand through his hair. "If we do invite people, it could be fun. Just a small thing. Jay, maybe. Jungwon. Heeseung, obviously." my Sunghoon groans again. "Obviously." Jake shrugs. "And I guess that means Yunjin would have to come too," he tacks on, his voice dropping into something heavier—flat, reluctant, with a bitterness he doesn't bother hiding. You pause mid-stretch in the doorway, your hand frozen on the bathroom doorframe. The annoyance bubbles up before you can swallow it. "Okay, can one of you just say it already?" Jake lifts a brow, watching you. You cross your arms. "What is it with you two and Yunjin? You act like she poisoned your drinks every time her name comes up." Sunghoon doesn't answer—just makes a face and throws his arm over his eyes like he can't even deal with the subject.

Jake, on the other hand, doesn't miss a beat. He stretches both arms over his head, tone dry, "Aside from the fact that she called you a whore to your face and is a raging cunt?" He glances at you, all faux innocence. "Not much, really." Your jaw drops a little. "Jake."

"What?" he says, eyes wide. "You were there. You heard her." Sunghoon lifts his arm from his face just to mutter, "He's not wrong."

Jake points. "See? Thank you." You roll your eyes and walk back over to the bed, standing at the foot of it now, arms still crossed. "She's my cousin."

"She's a bitch," Jake corrects smoothly, laying back against the headboard again. "Family ties don't exempt her from that." Sunghoon nods in agreement, lips tugging into a little smirk like he's secretly enjoying your disbelief. Jake squints at you, suddenly more serious. "You know we'd never say anything if it wasn't about you. You're too nice to call her out, so someone has to." You blink, caught off guard. Their protectiveness always hits a little harder when you're not expecting it. Jake sighs dramatically, kicking the sheet off his legs. "Just think about it, okay? Birthday gathering. Limited guest list. Preferably minus raging narcissists."

Sunghoon chimes in, eyes still closed, "She can come. As long as she stays six feet away from my girl and doesn't speak unless spoken to." Jake lifts his hand like he's making a pact. "Seconded." You mutter under your breath, turning for the bathroom again. "I can't even deal with you two right now." And from behind you, with a laugh in his voice—Jake calls out to you, "Baby! Come back!"

Turns out Jake was right—there is a very short list of things people wouldn't do for Sunghoon. Even driving six hours just because Jake sent out a half-assed invite to a beach house birthday? Not off the table, apparently. Only a handful of people came—it was still intimate, just louder now. Warmer. A little more chaotic. Heeseung showed up first, of course, with Yunjin clinging to his arm and sunglasses on despite it being overcast. You'd said hi to her, trying to be polite, trying to keep things smooth, and she didn't not respond...she just sort of tilted her head and said, "Bold outfit choice," before letting her eyes skim you up and down like you were something she'd never choose from the rack. And when you'd mentioned casually that Sunghoon had picked it out, she made that face. The one that was all tight-lipped and pinched like she'd just bitten into something sour and needed everyone to know.

Jake had seen it too. Of course he had. And he'd pulled you away before you could respond, guiding you across the patio by the small of your back with a too-sweet, "Let's get you away from the rotting energy, yeah?" He introduced you to Jay next—smirking a little as he did it, like he was proud to show you off. Jay had been polite, chill, charming in that low-effort way that felt like it came naturally to him. You liked him instantly. Then Jungwon pulled up, a little later, looking tan and soft and friendly, and you weren't sure what you were expecting—but it wasn't the way he smiled when he saw you. It was easy, bright, like he actually wanted to be there. Like he wanted to talk to you. He complimented your outfit right away. "You look amazing, by the way," he even asked how you were like he meant it. And you wanted to like him. You almost did. But every time he looked at you with those kind eyes, all you could think about was Sunghoon's hands on him, Sunghoon's mouth on his neck, the sound he must've made when he came and that was the problem.

No matter how nice he was, you couldn't unsee it. You couldn't unknow it.

It’s well into the afternoon now, the sun has started its slow descent over the ocean, and the birthday energy has shifted from sleepy and sweet to loose-limbed and sticky with alcohol. You're at the drinks table trying to stop Jake from going too hard, fingers wrapped around his wrist as he sloppily pours a round of shots he doesn't need. "Jake," you murmur, half-laughing, half-serious, "no more." He grins at you with that dangerous twinkle in his eye, the one that always means trouble, and holds a full shot glass just out of your reach. "But it's a celebration," he says with a mock pout, swaying slightly as he clutches the edge of the table for balance. You reach up to snatch the glass, and just then, he accidentally tilts it forward, spilling cold liquor straight onto your bare chest, where the low-cut neckline of your bikini top leaves skin exposed. "Oh nooo," he says, faux-gasping with a shit-eating grin before he dips his head low, mouth hot and wet against your skin as he licks the shot clean with a giggle. "Can't waste good tequila."

"Jake!" you squeal, swatting at him while laughing. You're barely able to regain control of the situation when Sunghoon appears at Jake's side, calm and unimpressed as he hands him a bottle of water. "That's enough," he says, low and even. Jake—drunk and flushed and still grinning—immediately drops the shot glass and takes the water with a nod, like Sunghoon's word is law. "Okay," he says softly, like a scolded dog who doesn't mind being scolded. He flops down onto a nearby stool, still sipping, and you follow, your fingers brushing gently through his hair. He hums under your touch, his lashes fluttering. Then, out of nowhere, he mumbles, "I love you. So much." It's quiet but genuine, a little slurred but certain. You smile, brushing his bangs off his forehead, your chest warm with it. But then out of the corner of your eye you see her. Yunjin. Leaning a little too close to Jay on the terrace chairs, her fingers brushing his arm like she doesn't even realize she's doing it. Her legs crossed just so, laughing a little too loudly at whatever he said. And Jay's not exactly pulling away either. Your gaze shifts instinctively and catches Sunghoon's. He's already looking, but not at you. His eyes are locked on Heeseung, who's walking toward the pair now with a stiff jaw and a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

He comes to a stop in front of them, looking down at Jay like he's trying to make sense of it. "Dude," Heeseung says, his voice casual but cold, "why are you so all over my girlfriend?" Jay blinks up at him, smile faltering. And just like that, the tension at the table spikes—sharp, quiet, and full of all the things that haven't been said yet. Jay's eyes flick to Heeseung's, expression hardening into something mean and brash, so different from the charming guy you met just hours ago, the one Jake had introduced so proudly. "I'm all over your girlfriend?" Jay scoffs, standing now, his tone loud and sharp enough to cut through the sound of the waves. "She's the one who came onto me. She always comes onto me." There's a shift. A drop in pressure like the air's been sucked out of the house. Jake, still perched on the stool beside you, squints and lets out a half-drunk, "Uh oh." You slap your hand over his mouth without even looking.

Heeseung's jaw flexes. "What the fuck do you mean always? She always comes onto you?" Jay throws his hands up, exasperated. "Come on, Heeseung. Everyone knows your girlfriend is a fucking slut. You're just the only one too blind to see it." Gasps break out like shattering glass. Someone actually says "Oh my god." The music comically stutters to a stop. And Yunjin? She just blinks but doesn't even deny it. Your pulse is thudding in your ears as Jay keeps going, eyes lit up like he's been holding this in for way too long. "Why are you even coming after me?" he snaps, stepping forward, "You didn't seem to have a problem when she threw herself at Sunghoon too."

Silence. Your feel your body go ice cold, turning your head slowly toward Sunghoon, your mouth dry, your breath caught somewhere deep in your throat. But he's already looking at you. Already shaking his head, already panicking. "Baby," he says, voice trembling for the first time ever, "I swear—it didn't happen. She tried, yeah, but it didn't fucking happen." He turns to Jay, eyes wild. "Jay! Are you fucking kidding me right now!?" But it's too late. Heeseung steps back like he's been physically hit, eyes wide and locked on Sunghoon now. "Are you fucking serious?" he breathes, voice deadly quiet. "You knew?" You can feel it, the moment the entire mood shatters—cracking open into something ugly and raw. Everyone's watching now. No one's moving. No one dares to breathe. And you’re standing there, still stuck on that single, damning word. Tried.

Jake, still half-drunk and slow on the uptake, lets out another one of his too-loud, too-poorly-timed laughs. "I mean...Yunjin is kind of a slut," he mumbles with a shrug, like that'll somehow ease the tension. It doesn't. Yunjin snaps her gaze to him so fast her sunglasses nearly fall off. And that's when it breaks. That last thread holding her in place. "I'm the slut?" she hisses, taking a step forward and jabbing a finger in your direction. "Not my cousin who you and Sunghoon turned into your fucking sex slave?" The air splits. Everyone flinches. Jake immediately sobers like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over his head. He stands, voice low and sharp, "Watch your fucking mouth." Sunghoon's right behind him, jaw clenched. "Don't you dare talk about her like that." But you're already stepping back. Heart pounding. Face burning. Stomach lurching. The words crawl under your skin like fire, because this—this sick, twisted narrative—is what they've been hiding. What they've been keeping from you. Your voice comes out clipped, shaking. "Don't. Don't defend me."

Yunjin smirks like a predator who's smelled blood. "Ooou," she purrs mockingly, "look who finally grew a spine. All it took was getting dicked down, uh?" Your fists curl at your sides, and Jake growls something under his breath, but Yunjin's not finished. "You're so fucking pathetic," she spits. "You let them touch you. You let them fuck you after everything they did. You think that makes you powerful now? Makes you special? Please. You were a joke before, and now you're just a joke who moans." There's a second where no one says anything—where it feels like the whole world tilts, and even the ocean forgets to crash. But then someone speaks, "Come on, Yunjin." Jungwon. Calm, smooth, and a little amused. Arms crossed. Leaning casually against the side of the bar like he's been watching a game unfold. "You're just jealous," he says with a laugh. "You couldn't have either of them if you tried." He smiles, then adds, just to twist the knife, "And turns out—you did."

Jungwon’s words don’t seem to stop her though, it seems like she can’t stop, like she’s smelled your weakness. Spitting venom with a bitter little smile, fully convinced that out of everyone here, you're the easiest to break. "You act so fucking innocent," she snaps, taking a step closer, "but you're just as desperate as the rest of us. Probably worse. Newsflash, cousin—being passed between two guys doesn't make you liberated. It makes you a fucking whore." For a beat, it seems like no one will say anything, no one will move. But you do. You calmly step forward and Yunjin barely has time to react before your hand flies across her face, hard and open-handed. The crack of the slap echoes over the stunned silence of the house. She gasps, stumbling slightly, blinking like she can't quite believe it happened. But she recovers quickly, her face twisting in fury as she lunges at you, teeth bared, hands reaching like claws. Sunghoon is faster than her though, throwing himself between you just as she lashes out, his back turned to her. She slams her hands against his shoulders, but he doesn't budge. His only focus is you. His eyes find yours instantly, wild and pleading. "I can't believe you," you whisper, voice low and shaking and full of heartbreak. Then you turn and walk away. "Baby—wait, Y/N!" Sunghoon calls after you, voice cracking. He spins to follow, panic flooding his face. Jake plants a hand on Yunjin's shoulder and shoves her back, firm but not cruel. "Get a grip," he mutters, then glances toward Heeseung, voice low. "Get your girl." But Heeseung just lets out a short, bitter laugh. "I'm done with this bitch," he says, already walking toward the edge of the deck. "Jay can have her. Or Sunghoon. Or whoever the fuck else she tried to fuck while we were together." He doesn't look back. Just walks straight toward the path that leads out of the house. And behind you, everything collapses.

The drive back from the beach house feels interminable. You're curled up in the back seat, forehead pressed to the window, headphones in, eyes trained on nothing. Every few minutes, Jake glances at you through the rearview mirror. Sunghoon tries to look back, but you never meet his eyes. The tension is so thick it might as well be physical, like a wall separating you from them. They try though, Jake's voice is quiet at first. "You okay back there?" You don't respond. "Do you want something to eat?" Sunghoon adds. "We could stop somewhere."

"Not hungry," you mumble. Jake sighs after a long pause. "Princess, come on. Just talk to us." You don't, you plug your headphones in tighter and shut your eyes, trying to tune them out. And the silence stretches all the way home. Arriving at the apartment, you still don't say a word. You're out of the car and up the elevator before they've even made out of the car. You beeline for Sunghoon’s bedroom, flinging open the closet, and yanking clothes off hangers, fast and frantic. Your suitcase hits the bed with a thud. Shoes. Pajamas. Toothbrush. Anything you might need. "Wait—baby," Sunghoon's voice rushes in from the doorway. "What are you doing?" You don't answer, you don't even look at him. "Don't do this. Please," he says, stepping closer, voice almost cracking just a little. "We can talk about it. We can work through this."

Jake appears behind him, brows furrowed. "Don't let what Yunjin said get in your head. She's just jealous. Jungwon said it—she was trying to get a rise out of you." You freeze, your back to them. One breath. Then another. "It's not just about Yunjin," you snap, spinning around. "It's everything." They both fall silent. "We’re about to go back to school and you think people won't talk? You think they won't look at me like I'm just some kind of—" your voice breaks, "—some kind of toy you two share?" Sunghoon flinches. Jake's eyes go wide. "There was never any time for me to adjust. I was just—thrown into your world. Your friends, your rules, your dynamic. And I thought I could keep up. I really did." You're breathless now. Holding back tears. You zip up your bag with trembling hands. "I just—" you whisper, barely audible, "—I just need space to figure things out."

Jake takes a step forward, jaw clenched. "You can't do that." But before he can finish, Sunghoon cuts in gently, "Where will you go?" His voice is full of worry. "You can't seriously be thinking of going back to your apartment. Not with Yunjin still there—"

"I'm going to my parents'," you say.

You're zipping your overnight bag when you feel their eyes on you again. They don't say anything at first. Just watch you move, like they still can't believe this is happening. Sunghoon breaks the silence. Quiet. Heavy. "Fine." Jake snaps his head toward him. "Fine?" You can’t look at either of them. Jake steps forward. "For how long?" he asks you, voice low, desperate. "A few days? A week? What does space even mean?" Before you can respond, Sunghoon speaks again—steady, but restrained, like it's costing him something. "I'll drop you off at the train station." Jake turns on him. "Are you kidding me, Sunghoon?"

Sunghoon doesn't waver. "She said she needs space." Jake scoffs, almost laughing in disbelief. "So that's it? You're just gonna let her leave?"

"She's not a prisoner, Jake," Sunghoon says, and for the first time, there's a faint edge in his voice. "She said she needs space, so we give her space." Jake doesn't reply. His jaw tightens, like he's fighting the urge to yell, cry, beg—maybe all three. You swallow the lump in your throat and finally lift your eyes. "Thank you," you whisper to Sunghoon. He nods once, jaw clenched, eyes never leaving yours. Jake's arms fall to his sides. He looks so small all of a sudden, like he knows it’s been decided.

You genuinely don't remember much of the drive to the train station. Not the hum of the engine, not the silence in the car, not the way Sunghoon kept glancing at you like he was memorizing you for the last time.

You just remember the feeling. That sinking ache in your chest like guilt and grief wrapped into one, mix with the fear that you were doing the wrong thing, even though every part of you screamed that it was the only thing you could do. Sunghoon carried your bag to the platform. Jake didn't come. When your train pulled in, Sunghoon hugged you so tightly you could barely breathe, and whispered, "Please come back soon," like it physically hurt him to let go. You cried quietly the whole ride home, cheek pressed to the cold window. Your phone buzzed the moment the train started moving.

yunnie: I'm sorry. Please don't shut me out. We love you. I love you.

You didn't respond, just cause you didn’t know what to say. When your parents picked you up, it was like nothing had happened. Like you hadn't fallen apart. Like you weren't carrying pieces of your broken heart in your duffel bag. They were warm, soft and so blissfully unaware. Your mom made your favorite dinner that night. Your dad teased you about how pale you looked. They smiled. They laughed. They welcomed you home. And for a second, you almost believed you could pretend again. That none of it had happened. That you were just a girl coming home from school for a break. But then you lay in your old bed, and the tears came again. Every night, you scrolled through their messages—Jake's in the beginning, desperate and unfiltered. Sunghoon's every single day without fail, soft voice notes whispering I miss you, angel. I miss you so much. Sometimes he told you what he ate that day or he’d tell you a memory that reminded him of you. Other times he just said goodnight.

You read every word. Listened to every audio. And then, you locked your phone, turned your face to your pillow. And let your heartbreak sit with you like a ghost in your childhood room.

It's been weeks, maybe. Jake has lost track of time.

Sunghoon marks every day by your silence. You're gone—and everything's gone quiet in the worst way. The apartment feels too big without your voice, without your footsteps, without the soft way you'd call for one of them from the kitchen or the bedroom or the shower. Without you, it all feels cold. Stale. Off.

Sunghoon texts you every morning and every night.

He sends voice notes sometimes—soft, unpolished things that trail off at the end because he doesn't know how to stop talking to you without hearing something back. You rarely reply. When you do, it's polite. Surface-level. Enough to let him know you're alive, but not enough to let him in.

Jake tried too, at first. Tried calling, texting, joking, even begging. The first few days, he camped out on the couch, checking his phone every five minutes, voice breaking whenever he mentioned your name. He left your favorite snacks on the counter, like you'd somehow walk through the door and see them and forget everything. But after a week of silence, he started to withdraw. Got quieter. Moodier. By the second week, he stopped texting altogether. He still keeps your contact pinned at the top of his phone—still opens your thread sometimes just to stare at the last message you sent—but he doesn't send anything new.

Sunghoon notices. They don't say it, but something in them has started to split. They used to move in sync—choreographed without trying. Now, they barely speak unless it's about logistics. Dinners are eaten in silence. The living room feels colder, they both start sleeping in their own rooms instead of choosing one randomly to sleep in like when you were around. You were the thing holding it all together and now that you're gone, nothing feels right. It seems like neither of them know how to fix it without you.

The apartment is dark when Jake stumbles in, the front door clicking shut behind him with a careless thud. He kicks off his shoes, jacket half hanging off his shoulder, cologne and alcohol clinging to him like a second skin. Sunghoon is on the couch, still awake. The TV is on, but the screen's silent—just soft blue light casting shadows across his face. His jaw clenches when he hears Jake. "What time is it?" he asks, not turning his head. Jake scoffs, sways a little as he heads toward the kitchen. "Relax, dad."

"You've been out every night this week." Jake yanks open the fridge, grabs a water, slams it shut. "So?"

Sunghoon finally stands, voice sharp now. "Jake. What the fuck are you doing?" Jake turns to him, eyes glassy but burning. "What do you mean what am I doing?"

"You're spiraling," Sunghoon bites out. "Coming home drunk, ignoring everyone, ignoring me—" Jake throws his hands up. "Oh my god, fuck off."

"What happened to fighting for her?" Sunghoon's voice cracks around the edges. "What happened to not giving up—?"

"She left, Sunghoon!" Jake explodes. "She abandoned us. You think I'm acting out? No. I'm reacting. To the fact that the girl I love walked away and she's probably not fucking coming back!" Sunghoon flinches. But he holds his ground. Steps forward. "We can't give up." Jake laughs bitterly. "We already lost her. You just haven't admitted it to yourself."

"No," Sunghoon snaps. "You're giving up because that's easier than sitting in the pain. Because if you stay fucking drunk and distracted, you don't have to feel how much it hurts. But I do. Every second of every day." Jake says nothing, he truly can’t. And for a long moment, the only sound in the apartment is both of them breathing hard, like they've been fighting for hours. Like the heartbreak is something they're choking on. "She's not gone," Sunghoon whispers finally, more to himself than Jake. "She's just...figuring things out." Jake doesn't respond. He just walks past him and disappears into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Sunghoon's eyes fall to his phone on the coffee table, where one more message sits unsent. He hits send anyway. "Goodnight, baby. We miss you."

Sunghoon loves Jake. He really does. But these days, he can barely look at him without feeling like he might snap. He knows Jake's hurting too, but it's different. Jake hurts like a wildfire—chaotic, messy, scorching everything in its path. Sunghoon's hurt is quieter. Slower. The kind that sits in the corners of a room and never really leaves. He now spends most of his days avoiding the apartment. There's a small café down the street—one with frosted windows and chipped mugs, where the baristas don't ask questions and let him linger too long. He sits there for hours, headphones in, untouched coffee cooling in front of him. Watching people walk by the window. Wondering if you're eating enough. If you've made new friends like you said you wanted to. If you miss him. He wonders what he could’ve done better, over and over, until the memory of Jake's voice in the middle of that fight resurfaces, she left, Sunghoon. And he hates it—because maybe Jake's right. You did leave and maybe you're not coming back. He's staring blankly at his phone when it buzzes against the tabletop. One message. Your name. Your contact photo. His breath catches, his heart slipping straight to the pit of his stomach. He fumbles unlocking the screen, hands shaking so badly he nearly drops it. And there it is.

You: hi hoonie.

Two words is all it takes to make the whole café blur, to make his vision fog, dissolving the noise and shifting his entire world back into place—just two words. He stares at the screen like it might disappear if he blinks too hard. Then he types back, trembling, teeth clenched, breath caught somewhere in his throat.

Hoon: hi baby. god i missed you.

And for the first time in weeks, he feels like maybe he's not drowning anymore. His fingers are flying to type the second your reply comes in.

You: i missed you too. and jake. how's he been?

Sunghoon stares at the screen, his chest tight. His thumb hovers, unsure how to answer. He could lie, he could protect Jake a little. But he knows you deserve more than that.

Hoon: not good. we're not good without you.

He hesitates a little before adding typing more,

Hoon: i've been missing you so bad, baby. did you listen to the messages?

There's a pause. He watches the three dots blink in and out for what feels like hours. Then your response lights up the screen:

You: yes. i listened to all of them. every single one.

And then another message comes in

You: if you still want me, i think i'm ready to come home.

His breath catches so hard it almost hurts. He doesn't even realize he's already typing, his hands trembling, a sound of pure relief breaking in his chest like a dam cracked wide open.

Hoon: of course baby girl. yes. yes please. come home. please. what time should i come get you from the station? i'll be there early. i'll wait. just tell me.

He stares at your name on the screen, eyes glassy, smiling like he hasn't in weeks. For the first time in what feels like forever, the ache in his chest finally eases cause you’re coming home.

The train hisses behind you as it pulls away, the last trace of your long, quiet ride home vanishing down the track. You stand there on the platform, suitcase at your side, arms wrapped tightly around yourself—not because it's cold, but because your heart is beating so hard, it needs something to hold onto. You see him before he sees you. Sunghoon steps out of his car and into the station, black hoodie pulled low, hands stuffed into his pockets. He looks around like he's searching for air. His eyes are sharp, darting across the crowd with a kind of frantic hope. You watch him scan the line of waiting people, his lips pressed into a tight line, until his gaze catches on you. And it looks like everything in him melts. His shoulders drop, face softening instantly, mouth parting slightly as he takes a single breath and then starts walking—fast. Not running, but fast, like he's afraid you'll disappear if he takes too long. You don't move. You just watch him close the distance, watch the way his eyes don't leave yours even for a second. And when he reaches you, he doesn't say anything right away. He just pulls you in.

His arms are around you in a heartbeat, strong and warm and all-consuming. Your feet barely stay on the ground. His hand is at the back of your head, fingers slipping into your hair like he's trying to relish the shape of you again. And then his lips are everywhere.

A kiss to your cheek. Another to your forehead. Then your jaw, your temple, your nose. Each one broken by a breathless whisper, "I missed you." "I missed you so much." "God, my baby—I missed you." You feel it in your throat, the way your eyes sting, your whole chest pressing into his like it's desperate to get even closer. You don't even realize you've started crying until he pulls back just enough to look at you and says softly, "Don't cry, baby. It’s okay." Sunghoon barely makes it out of the station parking lot before his hand finds yours again. It's like he can't help it—like the distance from your skin is unbearable now that he's got you back. His palm covers yours on your thigh, his thumb stroking gentle lines across your knuckles. And then, as the car slows at a red light, he lifts your hand to his lips and kisses it softly, like it's something sacred.

He doesn't let go after that. One hand on the wheel, one hand curled around yours, fingers laced tightly together like if he lets go, you'll change your mind. You glance at him from the passenger seat, your heart already softening all over again. He's smiling, really smiling. Not the tight, polite one he wore when he dropped you off at the station. Not the sad, faraway one you imagined he wore every time he texted you and heard nothing back. This one is warm open and alive. "You look prettier than I remember," he says suddenly, stealing a glance at you. You laugh softly, looking away, but his grip on your hand tightens gently. "I'm serious," he says. "You were gone so long I started thinking I made you up." You shake your head, lips parting to say something but then he speaks again, quieter this time. "Jake's gonna lose his mind when he sees you." That makes your stomach twist. You look down at your joined hands, and Sunghoon must feel the change in your silence because he turns toward you slightly, his voice soft. "He's been...not himself, without you. He's gonna be really happy. We both are."

You nod slowly, chewing on the inside of your cheek, and Sunghoon lifts your hand again, pressing it to his chest, right over his heart. It's beating fast, you can feel it. "We're gonna fix this," he whispers, eyes on the road. "All of it." And he squeezes your hand like a promise.

The underground parking lot is dim and quiet, the hum of Sunghoon's car engine the only real sound as he pulls into his usual spot. He shifts into park, and the headlights click off. You stay seated for a moment, just looking out at the elevator in the distance, heart suddenly thudding in your chest like it knows something your brain hasn't caught up to yet.

But then you feel it—Sunghoon's fingers slipping between yours again, warm and almost overwhelming but grounding. "You ready?" he asks softly, eyes gentle.

You nod. He leans over the center console to kiss you—slow and smiling, like it's the first kiss of a new chapter. Then he's getting out, grabbing your suitcase from the trunk and waiting patiently as you slide out of the car. It's quiet as you walk together toward the elevator, your suitcase wheels echoing softly across the concrete.

In the elevator, Sunghoon stands behind you, arms circling your waist from behind, resting his chin lightly on your shoulder. He rocks you side to side a little. "Jake's gonna freak out," he murmurs, lips brushing your skin. "He's been such a mess." You smile faintly. But your palms are sweating. The elevator dings and it almost makes you flinch. Sunghoon pulls you toward the apartment with that same soft excitement from earlier. He's already pulling out his key, fumbling a little because he's balancing your suitcase and trying to be quick about it. "You want to shower first or eat? I can order while you—"

He opens the door and everything changes. The hallway is dim, the apartment lit only by the yellow glow of the kitchen underlight. At first, it's quiet—almost deceptively so. But then you hear movement. The soft shuffle of hurried footsteps. And Jake's voice, low and rushed, "Wait—hold on, just grab your stuff."

Sunghoon's body stiffens in front of you. You try to peek past him, heart in your throat. Then you see him.

A shirtless Jake, hair sticking up like he's been in bed.

A red scratch blooming fresh across the side of his chest. And behind him, a girl, half-dressed, tangled in a button up shirt that clearly isn’t hers, carrying her shoes in one hand and her phone in the other, head ducked like she's trying not to be seen.

Your breath leaves your body like you've been hit. Not pushed—hit. The girl brushes past Sunghoon with a muttered "Sorry" and ducks around you too fast to even register your presence. Jake hasn't even seen you yet. His eyes are locked on Sunghoon. Wide. Caught. Guilt flashing so hard it nearly knocks the color from his face. Then he sees you. And it’s like his entire world collapses in on itself. He doesn't say your name. Doesn't dare breathe it. He just stares. Horrified.

Your whisper is small. Fragile. Like glass held up to a storm, "Oh my god."

His mouth opens. "No—no, no, no—fuck—you weren't supposed to—," he stammers, stepping forward, eyes begging, chest rising and falling fast. "I didn't—fuck, this isn't—it didn't mean anything—I swear to God, it didn't mean anything—"

You haven't moved. You can't seem to. You're standing there in your little travel outfit, bag rolling gently between you and Sunghoon, and all the warmth you gathered in the car, in the elevator, on Sunghoon's lip drains out of your body in one awful, slow wave. Jake is still stammering. Still frozen half-naked in the middle of the room like he hasn't decided whether to run or fall to his knees. And Sunghoon hasn't looked at you yet. He hasn't looked away from Jake. He's standing stone-still in the doorway, the suitcase handle loose in his hand. The hurt in his face is so quiet, so deep, it almost doesn't register at first. But then you see the way his jaw is locked, how his throat bobs when he swallows, the way his fingers tremble around the suitcase handle. He steps forward. Slowly. Eyes still locked on Jake like he's trying to force an explanation out of him with just his stare. "Tell me this isn't what it looks like," he says, voice sharp with warning, but soft underneath, cracked at the edges. "Tell me you didn't do this." Jake takes another half-step forward, still frantic. "I didn't know she was coming today—Sunghoon, fuck, I wasn't thinking, I didn't plan this, it just—she texted me, and I said yes without thinking, and—" He falters. Because Sunghoon finally turns to look at you.

And your face. Your face absolutely ruins him, it’s not because you’re crying or yelling—you’re not. You just look like someone blew a hole through your chest and walked away. Like something broke open in you that will never close again. And all Sunghoon can do is whisper your name.

"...Baby." You blink once, taking one small step back.

And he follows. "Wait—no—baby, please—" That's when he drops the suitcase handle and everything begins to unravel. Your shoes make almost no sound as you turn and walk out the door. It's not fast or dramatic. You just...leave. Like your body is on autopilot, like if you stay even one second longer, your chest might actually crack open. But you don't make it far. The hallway is dim, humming with ceiling light, and you're maybe ten steps from the apartment door before you hear him.

"Y/n—" Sunghoon's voice. A rough, broken thing. "Y/n, wait, please—" Then arms around you. Strong and warm and trembling. He turns you gently—carefully—and pulls you into his chest, both arms locking around your back like he's trying to hold the pieces of you together. You resist at first, trying to push him away.

But he doesn’t let you. "Shh—no, no—please—please don't do this—just let me—please let me hold you," he begs, voice cracking as he buries his face into your hair. "I didn't know. I didn't fucking know. I swear to God, baby, I would've told you. I would've never brought you back if I knew—" And that's when you break, right there in the hallway. You shatter—into him, onto him.

A sob rips out of you, ugly and raw, and your fingers claw at his hoodie as he pulls you tighter against his chest. Your legs shake, your shoulders heave, and you can barely even breathe through the sound of it. Sunghoon holds you like he's never going to let go again.

"I didn't know," he keeps whispering, over and over, like maybe if he says it enough, the truth will rearrange itself. "I didn't know. I didn't fucking know." You're still sobbing. Still trembling. He moves both of you toward the wall, pressing your body gently there, shielding you from the rest of the world with his own.

"I don't believe it," he murmurs fiercely, like he needs you to believe him. "I can’t believe he did this. He was broken without you—he couldn't even look at your stuff, he was crying all the fucking time—he loves you. He loves us. There's no way he'd—"

"But he did," you whisper, and your voice isn’t loud or sharp, it’s just final. Sunghoon pulls back to look at you. And you see it, finally—his tears. Silent and warm, streaking down his cheeks like he didn't even notice they were falling. You shake your head, barely able to get the words out.

"How could he do this…to us?" Your voice breaks on the last word. Sunghoon's lip wobbles a little as he cups your face, thumbing away the tears that just keep coming. "I don't know," he whispers. "I really don’t know." And for a moment, neither of you say anything.

There's just the sound of your breathing, labored and broken, and the way your tears soak through the front of his hoodie as he holds you. "I can't—I can’t go back in there," you whisper. "I know."

"I can't even look at him."

"I'll take you somewhere," he says immediately. "Anywhere. A hotel, my parents house—I'll get the car, right now, I swear—" You shake your head again. "Just...please don't leave me alone."

"I won't," he says, voice steady despite the tears. "Never again." And he doesn't let go. Not for a long, long time. He doesn't let go of your hand. Not as he leads you down the hallway, not as you both reach the elevator in silence, not even when the doors close and the dull hum of descent wraps around you. You're shaking. Still numb and in shock. But he keeps his fingers tangled with yours like it's the only thing saving him. When the elevator hits the underground level, he walks you carefully to the car, opens the door for you like he always does. But before getting in himself, he hesitates. "I'll be right back, okay?" he whispers, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. "I'm just gonna grab your suitcase." You nod faintly. He runs. Actually runs back toward the elevator, disappears inside the building again. You wait. Five minutes. Maybe seven. And then the trunk thumps shut and Sunghoon's slipping into the driver's seat beside you, breathing a little hard but managing a quiet, "Got it."

He starts the engine. Drives. Doesn't ask where you want to go, he doesn't need to. The silence in the car is thick. You don't look at him. You don't look out the window either. Just stare at your lap like you can still see the image burned into your eyes—Jake's face, his bare chest, the girl's body slipping past you, the disbelief on Sunghoon's face. He keeps glancing at you.

Keeps checking to see if you're okay. Keeps seeing that you're not. It's a long drive, longer than you expect, and it isn't until he pulls into the circular driveway of a hotel, glass exterior glittering under city lights, that you even realize where he's brought you. He parks. Hops out quickly. Rounds the car to open your door for you again. Still doesn't let go of your hand. Inside, the lobby is quiet, marble floors echoing beneath your feet. The concierge says nothing when Sunghoon pulls out his wallet, only asks for your name and smiles gently at your silence. "Six nights," Sunghoon tells him firmly. "Maybe more. We'll see."

You're in another elevator again. He's holding your suitcase with your hand is still in his. Neither of you speak. The hotel room is warm with neutral tones, high thread count linens and soft lighting. But it all feels far away, like a set from a movie you're not in the mood to watch. Sunghoon wheels the suitcase inside. Sets it beside the closet, watching you sit on the edge of the bed, still not speaking or crying. Until you are, like it just hits you all at once. A sob punches its way out of your throat and you fold over, shoulders curled in, hands digging into your lap as the tears crash down. You don't even try to stop them. It's too much. Everything feels too much. And he's beside you in a second dropping to his knees in front of you, arms around your waist, pressing his forehead to your stomach like he’s going to fall apart too. "Princess," he whispers, voice already breaking. "Please—please don't cry. I can't—I can't handle it—"

But you do. And he lets you. He shushes you gently, murmuring soft little promises into the curve of your waist as his hands rub your back, as he slowly coaxes you sideways onto the bed. You curl into him instinctively, face hidden in his chest. He pulls you closer, wrapping himself around you. One hand cradling the back of your head, the other strokes slow, steady circles into your spine. "It’s okay," he whispers. "You're okay. I've got you. I'm not leaving." You don't know when you stop crying. You don't even remember falling asleep. But when you eventually do, you're warm. And Sunghoon's arms are still around you, his lips still brushing your hair, his chest rising and falling under your cheek like you're the only thing keeping his heart beating at all.

You wake to silence. A thick, weighted kind—the kind that makes you feel like the world has stopped turning while you slept. Your clothes are still the same from yesterday. Wrinkled, cold and you feel them stick to your skin when you shift slightly under the hotel blanket, cheeks stiff and tight with the dried remnants of your tears. Your head is buried in Sunghoon's chest.

His shirt is damp where you cried. His arms are still around you, the hand on your back still gently cupping the curve of your spine like he never loosened his grip all night. You stir and he doesn't move, doesn’t flinch.

But you can feel the tension in his body. The way he holds his breath. Like he's afraid that if he moves too quickly, the whole thing might shatter all over again.

His eyes are open, red-rimmed and tired. Fixed on the ceiling above, jaw clenched, lips pressed into a thin, unreadable line. You shift a little more, trying to sit up. He doesn't stop you, but his arm stays loosely wrapped around your waist. The room smells faintly of hotel soap and skin and sadness. You whisper, "Did you sleep at all?" He finally looks at you.

And that's when you see how broken he looks. Like someone carved a hollow right into his chest and filled it with silence. "No," he murmurs softly. “Couldn’t." You nod faintly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. You cling tighter. Like you know something's coming. And you’re right. You can feel it in the shift of his breathing. His throat bobs, and then he says, barely a whisper, "I need to talk to him." You blink up at him, brows drawing together. Your throat aches like you're about to cry again, but the tears haven't reached your eyes yet. "Oh."

"I just—" His voice is soft as he sits up, finally pulling away from you, though it's reluctant. "I need to make sense of this. What happened. Why he did it. How it even happened." You just look at him for a moment. Then you say, "I don't want to be alone." His expression crumples at that. He reaches for your hand again. Grips it tightly. "I won't be gone long," he promises, forehead pressing to yours. "Just an hour or two, baby. I'll come right back. I swear."

You bite your bottom lip, nodding slowly. He kisses your forehead, your temple, the side of your nose—soft, lingering kisses like little apologies for leaving. Then he pulls away again. And this time, you let him go. The door closes behind him with a dull, final-sounding click. And you're alone, wrapped in a hotel comforter, in the aftermath of something you're still trying to understand, while down the hall or across the city already Sunghoon walks into the fire. Into Jake, into whatever comes next.

The drive home is a blur for Sunghoon, he doesn't even remember closing the hotel door behind him. Doesn't remember the walk through the lobby or the way the valet stared at him like he recognized the storm cloud brewing behind his eyes. The world outside the windshield flies past in streaks of color, but he isn't really seeing it. He's trying to make sense of the situation at hand. Jake. Jake. He must've misunderstood. Maybe she was a friend. Maybe it was a mistake. But no. There was nothing accidental about what they saw.

The girl was buttoning her shirt—Jake’s shirt, as she walked out of his bedroom. Jake was shirtless, wide-eyed and guilty. It wasn't a maybe. It wasn't a blur. It was a fucking betrayal. And Sunghoon can't stop thinking about the way you crumbled in his arms—how you cried into his chest like the air had been stolen from your lungs. He parks the car in a daze and makes his way upstairs. Every footstep down the hallway echoes louder than the last. The door isn't locked, as he just walks in to find Jake on the couch. Head bowed. Shoulders slumped with his phone in his hand, talking softly into the speaker.

Sunghoon hears it just before it stops recording. "...I know I fucked up, but I swear I love you. I love you. Please just—just come back." Jake's thumb hovers over the send button. But he doesn't press it. He knows he can't. Not now. Not after what he's done. He looks up when he hears Sunghoon close the door. But he doesn't say anything, he doesn't try to explain. He just looks... ruined. Like a child caught red-handed, trembling and ashamed, waiting to be punished. Sunghoon stares at him for a long moment, "You couldn't even wait?" His voice is ice. Jake flinches a little, his eyes dropping again. He doesn't try to fight it. "I thought she wasn't coming back," Jake says quietly. "I thought—" Sunghoon cuts him off before he can finish. "So what? You thought she wasn't coming back, so you stuck your dick in the next girl you saw? That's your excuse?"

"I felt abandoned—" Sunghoon slams his hand down on the back of the armchair. "I was abandoned too!" he yells. "She left me too! Jake. You think it didn't break me? You think I didn't want to give up every night while texting her because I didn't know if she'd ever respond? You think I didn't miss her so fucking bad I couldn't sleep?"

Jake's chest rises and falls rapidly. "I know—"

"No, you don't," Sunghoon spits. "You don't fucking know, because instead of hurting and staying loyal, you went and fucked someone else. You cheated. On us."

Jake's lower lip trembles. His fingers are digging into his knees like he's trying to keep himself from collapsing completely. "It didn't mean anything," he whispers. "I was out of my mind. I—I regretted it the second it happened."

"Yeah?" Sunghoon snaps. "Too bad regret doesn't make her unsee it. Doesn't undo what you did." Jake wipes at his eyes, sniffling hard. "You think I don't hate myself for it? You think I'm not dying inside?"

"You don't get to die inside," Sunghoon growls. "She gets to die inside. We do. You made that choice. We live with the fucking aftermath." Jake tries to say something, tries to open his mouth, but no words come out. He looks like he's seconds from collapsing. From crumbling into nothing. But Sunghoon doesn't care. Not right now. Because he remembers the way you sobbed against his chest. The way your voice cracked when you whispered "how could he do this to us?" And no amount of guilt can take that back. Jake doesn't move, he sits there like a kicked dog, face blotchy, hands shaking, eyes rimmed red with guilt. He opens his mouth to speak, but Sunghoon cuts in before he can even try. "No," Sunghoon says sharply, chest heaving. "You don't get to do this, Jake."

His voice isn't loud, but it's dangerous now. Cold and trembling and laced with too much grief to contain. "I texted her every single day," he says through gritted teeth. "I left her voice notes every morning and every night, telling her that I missed her, that we loved her, that it was safe to come home. I promised her, Jake. I begged her to believe that everything would be okay."

Jake stares at him, lips parted. Breathing hard, like he’s on the edge of shattering. "I brought her back," Sunghoon continues, voice cracking. "I kissed her hand in the car and told her how happy you'd be to see her. I told her we'd protect her better this time, that she wasn't alone anymore. And the second I opened that door, you were standing there—shirtless, with some girl rushing out of your room." He pauses, nostrils flaring, trying to collect himself. "You don't know how hard I had to stop myself," Sunghoon whispers, eyes sharp and glassy. "From dragging you out into the hallway and beating the fucking life out of you right then and there."

Jake lets out a strangled sob. He brings both hands up to his face like he's trying to block the words out, but they keep coming—because Sunghoon can't stop. "She cried herself to sleep," he says, quieter now, more broken. "On a fucking hotel bed. In the clothes she travelled all the way back to us in. I had to hold to her while she did, and keep telling her it would be okay even though I knew it wouldn't."

Jake lets out a breath like it hurts to exhale. "I can fix it," he chokes. "I swear—I can fix it. Please, Hoon. Things can still go back to normal—" Sunghoon laughs, but it’s not funny. It's bitter and dry and devastating. "Can they?" he spits, stepping closer. "Can they really?"

Jake doesn't answer. He just sits there—pathetic, ashamed and drenched in regret. And that look of utter helplessness, of you tell me what to do and I'll do it, like he's not the one who burned it all to the ground, that’s what finally breaks Sunghoon completely. His voice drops. Barely a whisper. "If she doesn't come back to us—" he swallows hard, tears stinging at his eyes. "If she never forgives us..." Sunghoon's jaw clenches. "I will never forgive you," he says, eyes glassy. "Do you hear me?" Jake doesn't respond but his shoulders shake with the force of his sobs. "Not ever," Sunghoon breathes. "Jaeyun." Jake flinches at his name like it's some curse. And Sunghoon stares at him one last time, broken, furious and devastated before turning and walking away.

The hotel room is dim—just the golden lamp on the nightstand casting a soft glow over the bed. Sunghoon is lying next to you now, one arm folded behind his head, the other resting limp beside yours. He hasn't said much since he got back, just quiet sighs now and then, like he's still trying to sort through everything swirling in his chest. It's nighttime now and you reach out without a word, slipping your fingers into his, your thumb brushing over his knuckles gently. It's not a grand gesture, but his breath hitches when you do it.

He squeezes your hand—tentative, "I missed this," he says softly, like a confession. "Just being able to touch you." You swallow hard, your voice a whisper. "Me too." There's a long silence after that. A kind of peace that's not perfect, but quieter than it's been in days.

Then Sunghoon speaks, voice low and tired. "Did you...make any new friends while you were home?"

You actually let out a soft laugh, dry and almost shy. "No. I didn't really leave the house. I barely left my room. I think my parents were getting worried I was turning into a ghost." Sunghoon's smile is faint but real. "They're probably just happy to have you close."

You nod, your voice quieter now. "They were. I missed them so much." He glances over at you. His thumb rubs along the side of your hand again, slower this time. You hesitate before speaking again, "Jungwon texted me." You feel his body go still. "When?" he asks, trying to keep his voice neutral. "Couple days after I got home," you murmur. "He just...asked if I was okay. Said Jake told him I left."

Sunghoon sighs heavily, but not in surprise, more of acceptance. He stares up at the ceiling for a moment before turning his head to you. "You don't have to be friends with Jungwon if you don't want to," he says quietly, with a sort of tired conviction. "Not after everything. I know he's Jake's friend, but you don't owe him anything." You nod. "I know." He squeezes your hand again, tighter this time. Like he's silently vowing to protect you from all of it—Jake's betrayal, Yunjin's cruelty, even the pieces of yourself still bruised from everything.

You lie there in the quiet, his hand still held in yours, warm and grounding. The room feels suspended in time—just the two of you tucked into this little pocket of the world where nothing hurts quite as loudly, where the betrayal and the heartbreak and the ache haven't disappeared, but at least, for now, they're muffled. You shift your head on the pillow, angling your gaze toward him. His jaw is tight, his lashes casting soft shadows on his cheeks as he blinks slowly at the ceiling. You speak gently. "What about you?" His eyes flick to yours. "What did you get up to? Other than all the things you told me...the café, your parents..." you trail off. He hesitates, his mouth parting just slightly before closing again. Then, he exhales slowly through his nose, voice hushed and vulnerable. "I didn't really...get up to much." Your fingers tighten slightly around his.

"I tried, at first," he says, "to keep moving. To keep pretending like I was okay." He lets out a humorless laugh. "But my world kind of...slowed. When you were gone." Your heart tugs painfully in your chest. "I'd wake up and just—lie there. For hours sometimes." He swallows. "Didn't even want to shower. Or eat. I'd sit in that café down the block like I told you, every afternoon. Just staring out the window."

"Waiting for me to text," you whisper. He nods once, eyes still fixed on the ceiling like looking at you might break him. "Yeah." There's something so quietly devastating about the way he says it. Like existing without you took everything out of him, left him hollow in a way no one else could fill. You lean a little closer, pressing your forehead to his arm. "I missed you every second." His eyes finally meet yours. They're glossy again, but he blinks the tears back, determined not to cry this time. "Don't leave again," he whispers. "Please."

"I really don't want to," you say softly. "But how do we even get past this? We're in a hotel room right now, Hoon." He nods like he knows, stroking his thumb over the back of your hand. The silence between you is soft now—no longer heavy with pain but full of something else, something tentative and warm, like a newly bandaged wound. Then, out of nowhere, he murmurs, "You lost weight." You pout, looking up at him "Huh?"

He frowns a little. "Your face...and your arms. You feel smaller when I hold you." You roll your eyes. "Oh wow, thanks."

"No," he says, turning toward you, serious. "It's not a compliment, baby. I don't like it. You're gonna eat more." You snort. "Well, I wasn't exactly in the mood for takeout and ice cream while crying into my pillow." He shakes his head, already sitting up and stretching a little. "No, no, that won't work. I'm putting you on a schedule. Three meals a day. Snacks. Maybe I'll cook. You want pasta? I'm ordering pasta right now." You watch as he starts patting down his pockets for his phone, already mumbling about how much he's going to make you eat. "Something creamy. High calorie. Carbs. Dessert too—maybe cake or like a pie? Yeah, we'll start slow." You laugh quietly, heart swelling a little at his chaotic determination. But then there's a knock at the door and it interrupts the moment, making you both halt.  The sound is polite but firm. One knock. Two. Then silence. You glance at each other. "You expecting someone?" he asks, brow furrowed.

You shake your head. "No. You? Could be room service?" Sunghoon slowly rises to his feet. He hesitates, then quietly pads toward the door, shoulders tensing as he approaches. The hotel room is quiet, and your own breath seems too loud in your ears. He looks back at you once, a cautious warning in his eyes, then reaches for the handle and opens the door. And there Jake is. Standing in the hallway, hands in the pockets of his jeans, face pale, jaw tight, eyes rimmed red—but dry, for now. You sit up slowly. Jake doesn't even look at Sunghoon at first. His eyes seem to be trained on you as if he didn't dare believe you were really behind that door until now. Sunghoon's body shifts in front of the threshold like a quiet barrier, unmoving. Jake finally blinks, mouth twitching like he wants to speak but doesn't know where to start. "I'm not here to fight," he says softly. "I just... I just need to talk to her."

Sunghoon's hand grips the edge of the door just a little tighter.

"How did you even know she was here?" he asks, voice low, cautious. Jake doesn't flinch, or even blink. "I've always had both your locations," he says, eyes still locked on you. "Since the beginning. I just...never stopped checking." Sunghoon's jaw tightens. He doesn't say anything for a moment. You can tell he wants to slam the door shut—protect you, protect whatever little peace you've managed to find here. But after a long beat of tense silence, he sighs. And steps aside, letting Jake walk in like a ghost. Like someone quietly being lowered into a grave. His shoes barely make a sound on the marble floor. His hands are still shoved deep into his pockets like he's trying to keep himself from shaking. And still, his eyes never leave yours. He stops a few feet in front of the bed, like he knows better than to come closer.

"I won't take long," he says, voice thin, tired. "You don't have to say anything. You just have to listen."

Your throat feels tight. You don't trust your voice even if you wanted to say something. "I'm sorry." Jake's voice cracks on the second word. "I'm sorry for doing this to you. For hurting you. For hurting Sunghoon. I don't have anything to defend myself with. There's no excuse. I was scared. I was selfish. And I was fucking stupid." "There isn't a version of this story where I'm the victim, I know that." His hands come out of his pockets now, trembling at his sides.

"If there's even the smallest chance, a one in a million chance that you two can be happy without me, then I won't get in the way. I'll let it happen. I'll walk away. You should take this chance. You should be with Sunghoon." Sunghoon shifts behind Jake, still by the door, but watching, listening. Jaw locked. You can feel the weight of his silence too. Jake's eyes fill with tears, but none fall. He blinks fast and swallows hard. "He said..." He continues glancing back toward Sunghoon for just a moment, like it hurts to even repeat it. "He said he'd never forgive me if you didn't come back to us. So please..." He looks at you again, eyes wet and raw. "Forgive him. Just him. Even if you can't look at me again, even if I'm the last person you ever want to see, please don't shut him out because of what I did."

You feel your chest splinter under the weight of his words.

He takes a single step back. "I'll disappear from both your lives forever if that's what it takes. But don't make him pay for my mistake." Jake's voice is quieter now. Smaller. Almost as if each word is chipped off a block of pain lodged deep in his throat. "You should come back to the apartment," he says, not meeting your eyes this time. He stares at the floor like if he looks at you too long, he might break apart right there in front of you. "I'll move out. I've already been looking at places—just shitty little studio listings bookmarked in a folder like that's gonna fix anything but...I don't care. I'll go."

He swallows hard. The muscles in his throat twitch as he forces the next words out. "Just come back. Be with Sunghoon. You two can still have something beautiful. Real. I mean..." he lets out a bitter, breathy laugh and finally glances back at Sunghoon, "You always deserved better than me anyway. He is better. You love him and he really does love you." You press your palm to your mouth like it'll stop the ache from leaking out. Jake sees it, sees the tremble in your fingers, and rushes to finish before he breaks apart completely. "No one will look at you weird. No one will whisper anymore. It'll be normal. Easy. Just the two of you. You can have a happy relationship without people talking or judging or wondering how it all happened."

There's silence. Heavy and full. Jake shakes his head once, tears threatening again, and wipes at his face like he's disgusted with himself for crying at all. "Please..." His voice cracks. "Just don't throw it all away because of me." And then, quietly, so broken you almost don't hear it. "I already lost you. I won't survive knowing I cost him you too."

There's a long, soul-crushing pause. Jake stands there, waiting, breath caught like a thread in his throat. The silence screams in his ears—no crying, no yelling, no footsteps chasing after him. Just silence. So he takes it for what it is—understanding, maybe not forgiveness, but acceptance. Resignation. And it's enough for him to turn. He starts to walk away, but your voice, quiet and trembling, slices right through him. "But..."

Jake freezes. You take a shaky breath, eyes brimming.

"I don't want to be without you, Jake." He turns slowly, stunned. His face twists in confusion at first, like he can't believe what he heard—but then he sees you stepping toward him, the tears sliding freely down your cheeks, and he breaks. The tears he's been holding back finally fall, trailing hot and fast down his cheeks. His lips part like he wants to say something, but you're already speaking again. "I don't want to be with just Sunghoon." Your voice is louder now, clearly and it cracks, but not from doubt—from honesty. "I love both of you." Jake's mouth opens just slightly, like the words hit him so hard he forgot how to breathe. "I'm so mad at you," you whisper through the sobs you've been holding in. "You really hurt me, Jake. You hurt Sunghoon too. You almost ruined everything."

He nods like he's ready to take the hit, like he knows he deserves it. But you're still walking closer. "But I still love you," you say, tears choking every syllable. "God, I love you so much. And the thought of my life without either of you—that's what hurts the most." He takes a step forward, eyes glassy, lips trembling, hands half-raised like he's scared to reach for you, scared he'll shatter this moment. "And if—if you're willing to work through it with us," your voice trembles again, "if you're willing to fight—really fight for me and for Sunghoon..." You reach him. Your hand brushes his chest. "Then we can start from somewhere. At least."

His face crumples. And without another word, he pulls you into his arms like his whole life depends on it—because it does. You fall into his arms without thinking, the distance between you evaporating the second your body presses against his. His breath catches, chest rising sharply beneath your touch, and for a moment he just stands there, frozen, as though your embrace is the last thing he ever expected—but the only thing he's ever wanted.

He wraps his arms around you with a desperation that nearly steals your balance. One hand grips the small of your back, the other trembles against your shoulder, holding you to him as though the weight of your grief might pull you both under. His face buries in the crook of your neck, breath uneven, and you feel it—the warmth of a tear against your skin, quickly followed by another. "I'm sorry," he whispers, the words cracked and hoarse, spoken into your collarbone like a confession into church pews. "I'm so fucking sorry."

You pull back just enough to see him. His face is flushed and tear-stained, eyes glassy, wide with disbelief. You cradle his jaw gently, your fingertips brushing over the ridges of his cheekbones, thumb wiping away the tears he hasn't stopped shedding since you walked into his arms. He leans into your palm as though it steadies him. "Jake," you murmur, voice barely formed.

His gaze locks on yours, heavy with every unsaid word, every sleepless night, every regret that's burned through him since the day you walked away. Your foreheads touch. Then your noses. And when your lips meet, it's a slow unfolding—painful in its tenderness, soaked with everything you've both endured. He doesn't rush. He doesn't pull. He just kisses you—soft and reverent—his lips moving with the ache of someone who still can't believe he's allowed to. The kiss tastes of salt and apologies. Of longing that never stopped growing. Of love that never left, even after everything. But it deepens before you can even think. It's not so soft anymore. It's heat and ache and months of silence collapsing into motion. Jake's hands roam, no longer trembling but gripping—your jaw first, then sliding down to your neck, the pads of his thumbs brushing your skin. He kisses you again, and again, and again, mouth moving with bruising need, barely giving you room to breathe.

His fingers slip beneath your jaw, tilting your head just enough to fit his lips better against yours. Your hands fist into the fabric of his shirt, clutching him tightly. His touch grows more frantic, less careful. One hand cups the back of your head, holding you still, while the other traces down to your waist, gripping there like the thought of distance is unbearable. There's an audible exhale when he presses closer, chests flush, and he pulls away only for a second—just enough to whisper, "I missed you so fucking much," voice rough, breaking apart in the center. Then he's kissing you again, and this time you feel it down to your knees. He kisses you like he's starving.

Like he spent every night since you left trying to remember how your mouth felt against his. He kisses you like the world ended and this is the only piece of it left that he still wants. And you let him. Because you missed him, too. Because despite the pain, despite the betrayal, there's something magnetic and familiar in the shape of him pressed to you, in the way his breath stutters every time you touch him back. You moan into his mouth when he sucks at your bottom lip, hands climbing his chest, slipping into his hair. He groans softly at the feeling, hips barely shifting forward before he stops himself, foreheads pressed tight. "I shouldn't—" he starts, breathless. But your fingers tug at his shirt. "I want you to."

You don't hear Sunghoon approach at first. You only feel the tremble in Jake's breath as it fans across your cheek, his lips hovering over yours. Then Sunghoon speaks softly behind him, voice tight with concern. "Are you sure you want this?" Jake freezes. His head dips, forearms braced against either side of you, almost holding himself up. He doesn't say anything, doesn't look back—he's too afraid the answer will break him.

Sunghoon continues, stepping forward until he's close enough that you can feel his presence wrap around both of you. "We can wait. For as long as you need. This was never about the sex. You know that, right?"

You turn your head, catching Sunghoon's gaze from over Jake's shoulder. His eyes search yours—not for permission, but for peace. And there's nothing but reverence in them.

You give him a smile. Not a trembling one, not one born of pressure or uncertainty. It's steady and soft. The kind that says I know what I want. Then your fingers drift to the hem of Jake's shirt. You tug gently.

Jake glances down, stunned, until you meet his eyes again and whisper, "I want it." Your fingers trail up his bare skin as you lift the shirt off him, your gaze flicking between his and Sunghoon's. "I missed your hands. Both of you." Jake lets out a broken sound, something between a sigh and a groan, like the weight of your forgiveness is too heavy to hold and too sacred to drop.

Sunghoon's chest rises, then falls with a shaky breath.

Jake's forehead presses to yours again, eyes squeezed shut. There's no more rushing, only three people breathing each other in like air after drowning for so long.

Jake's breath hitches the moment he feels Sunghoon's lips against his neck. It's gentle at first —a brush of mouth over skin, nothing more. But Jake still jolts, gasping softly, muscles tense under your palms. You're still pressed against his chest, your hands dragging slowly over the ridges of his abs, the curve of his waist, but his eyes flutter shut only when Sunghoon speaks.

"I should hate you," Sunghoon murmurs into his skin, voice raw and low, every syllable burned into the space between Jake's ribs. "You really fucking hurt us."

Jake's knees nearly give. You watch it happen, how his body caves just a little between your hands, how his throat bobs with a swallow, guilt rising like bile. His mouth parts, ready to apologize again, but Sunghoon doesn't let him speak. "But tonight," Sunghoon says, breath hot and firm on Jake's neck, his tone sharpening to something unshakable, unmovable, "you're going to do whatever she says." It's really not a request. Jake exhales a trembling sound, so affected by the command it comes out closer to a whimper than a breath. His hand instinctively finds your hip, squeezing like he needs to hold onto something real. His other arm tries to reach back, grasping at Sunghoon's thigh, but he can't find purchase. Can't find anything at all.

He's unraveling, your hands don't stop moving. They coast up his chest, over his heart, one curling around the back of his neck while the other trails lower, teasing the edge of his waistband. Forgiveness tastes strange when it's this tender. When it's handed to you wrapped in heat and hunger, in soft lips and firmer words. Sunghoon's mouth is still pressed to Jake's throat, kissing softly now, possessively. His palm slides down Jake's spine, slow and steady. He’s caught between your warmth in front of him and Sunghoon's control behind, blinking up at the ceiling like he's not sure this is real. He feels dizzy with it. Drunk off the way you touch him, how soft your lips are when you kiss the corner of his mouth, how your forgiveness feels like salvation. He lets out a broken, shaking sound and doesn't even realize he's nodding. "Yes," he whispers, barely audible. "Anything."

"Anything?" you echo, tilting your head with a small, breathy laugh, soft but taunting, sweet but sharp. Jake swallows hard, noticing how your voice has teeth now.

You brush your fingers across his chest, nails grazing where his heart is hammering beneath skin. He's trembling under your touch, still catching his breath from Sunghoon's mouth on his neck, but you keep your eyes on his, watching every flicker of emotion that passes through him—the regret, the longing, the want.

"Anything," he repeats, voice hoarse, and it makes you smile, even though it doesn't quite reach your eyes. "What if I told you..." You lean closer, lips brushing his ear, voice a whisper now. "That I didn't want you to touch me at all?" You never thought it was possible to watch someone break in real time, to watch the weight of that sentence crush him from the inside. His shoulders sag, chest tight and heaving, mouth parting in a stunned silence. He wants to speak, to beg, to say something that might undo the sentence, but nothing comes out. And then Sunghoon sinks his teeth into the side of Jake's neck—hard, causing him to help. “Ah!”

It's not pain though, not really. It's submission in its purest form. The sudden rush of breath he takes in is sharp and desperate. Sunghoon pulls back slowly, his lips stained red from the pressure, a blooming bruise already forming beneath the skin. You coo, cupping Jake's face between your palms, stroking your thumbs along his jaw. "Oh, poor baby," you murmur, soft and almost mocking. "That hurt?" You take a step back, fingers still curled around his chin, guiding him until he stumbles forward, pliant and stunned. "Get on the bed," you say simply. Jake obeys. It's not graceful. He trips a little on the edge of the mattress, palms catching himself as he falls onto it. His knees follow, sinking into the sheets, wide-eyed and breathless and completely undone. The mark on his neck already deepening in color.

Sunghoon steps behind you, his hands warm at your waist, watching with a quiet, unreadable intensity as Jake looks up from the bed, mouth parted, eyes shining, completely at your mercy. Then you reach for Jake's waistband, slow and deliberate. "If I say you don't get to touch me...you won't. Understood?"

Jake nods, instantly. But it isn't enough, especially not for Sunghoon, "Use your words," he murmurs from behind you. Jake breathes out, broken and obedient.

"Yes. I understand." You turn away from Jake, slowly, deliberately, your body still humming from the control you'd just exerted over him. You tilt your head up to face Sunghoon, lips parted, voice soft and honey-sweet.

"Wanna ride you, Hoonie," you murmur, eyes full of something heady and bright. Sunghoon's lips twitch into a smile that barely hides the hunger behind it. His hands are already on your waist, sliding under your shirt, touch reverent and greedy all at once. "Yeah?" he breathes, eyes darkening as he leans in, mouth brushing against yours. "Anything you want, pretty girl."

His kisses are deep and languid, like he wants to make you feel everything at once—his hands moving with purpose, stripping you bare with a kind of ease that only comes from knowing you. He peels the shirt off your shoulders, your bra next, then bends to mouth at your collarbones. You giggle when he lifts you clean off the floor with a low grunt, effortlessly strong, still kissing you like he can't get enough. He spins you gently in his arms, your laughter catching in your throat as he lays down beside Jake, pulling you into his lap so your legs straddle his hips. The shift in the room is immediate—charged with heat. Jake's eyes are glued to you, still kneeling on the bed, chest rising and falling with sharp, uneven breaths. His hands are clenched into fists on his thighs. He doesn't speak—but the look in his eyes, the desperation and hunger, says everything.

You lock eyes with him. And while holding his gaze, you reach down between your bodies, hook your fingers into the waistband of Sunghoon's pants, and tug them down just enough that his cock springs free—hot and hard, flushed a deep red. Your breath catches.

You shift your panties to the side, slowly, letting Jake watch everything—your fingers slipping under the fabric, revealing your wetness, your want. His jaw tightens as his gaze flickers down, then back to your face. You line Sunghoon up, the head of him brushing against you. Still holding Jake's stare, you whisper, "Watch me."

Then you sink down. Sunghoon groans, head falling back against the pillows, hands tightening around your waist—but your eyes don't leave Jake's, not for a second. He looks ruined already, lips parted, chest heaving, pupils blown wide as you start to move slowly, rolling your hips in small circles, your hands planted on Sunghoon's chest for balance. His eyes are locked on your face, mouth parted in awe, the way your lashes flutter when he hits the deepest part of you already making him groan. "Fuck, Yunnie," you breathe, barely able to get the words out through the sheer fullness, "Hoonie’s so big—it's too much, he's stretching me out—"

Sunghoon lets out a choked laugh, hands sliding up your back, keeping you grounded as you bounce slow and sweet. "You can take it, pretty girl," he says, breathless, "you always take it so good." Then he turns his head, eyes finding Jake across the bed—Jake, who looks completely undone, lips bitten raw, arms tense in his lap as he watches you fuck Sunghoon right in front of him. "You remember, don't you?" Sunghoon says, voice low and dark, words dragging like smoke. "How fucking tight she is?"

Jake swallows hard, nodding cause he does remember, he knows. Sunghoon's hand moves to your ass, spreading you a little wider on his lap as he grinds up into you. "She's still that tight," he murmurs. "Still squeezin' around me like she doesn't know what to do with it." You whimper, head falling forward, your rhythm stuttering for a second from the delicious drag of him inside you. You look over at Jake, flushed and panting and visibly hard under his jeans. You see the way his fingers dig into the sheets now, holding himself back. "You remember, don't you, Jake?" you whisper, your voice laced with something wicked and wet and wanting. "You remember how good I feel?" He nods again—once, sharp, desperate.

You moan when Sunghoon hits the right spot again, and you can't help it, you start to ride him harder, bouncing now, your hands gripping his shoulders, head tilted back with every gasp. “Oh shit! Sunghoon!”

Jake can't tear his eyes away. "Please," he says, voice hoarse, finally cracking. "Please let me touch you."

Sunghoon growls under you, but it's not anger—it's something else, something dark and territorial and charged with the thrill of control. "You gonna be good?" he asks, eyes narrowing. "You gonna do whatever she says?" Jake nods again, this time slower, breath catching when your eyes meet his and you smile, "Then crawl over here," "and rub my clit," you tell him, barely more than a breath between gasps, and Jake obeys instantly, crawling in close, his hands almost shaking as he reaches for you. His fingers find you, and the moment he starts to move in slow, practiced circles, your entire body trembles. The pleasure is sharp and sudden, slicing through your core and making you moan louder. You clutch Jake's shoulders to stay grounded, your forehead resting against his as you shudder. "God," you whisper, nails dragging down his arms. "Just like that."

Jake's eyes are wide, hungry and reverent all at once. "I missed you," he says, voice cracking. "Missed you so much." Then you kiss him, desperate and unrestrained. Your mouths crash together, teeth clashing, breath caught in your throat as his hands never stop rubbing. Your fingers go straight to his waistband, fumbling with the button of his jeans, tugging at the denim, hungry to feel him again, every part of him. He groans into your mouth when you finally free his cock, hips twitching, his hands pausing for only a second before he goes right back to rubbing soft circles against your clit, coaxing another shiver from your spine.

Under you, Sunghoon's hands are on your waist, fucking up into you, watching with heavy eyes as you and Jake melt together in front of him—two puzzle pieces trying desperately to fit again, despite everything. "Are you gonna let him in?" Sunghoon murmurs low beneath you. "Or do you want to keep teasing him first?" You glance down at him, then at Jake, lips swollen and pupils blown, still panting like a prayer's caught in his throat. But then Sunghoon starts unraveling beneath you. His hands are gripping your waist tighter now, fingers digging in deep. Each thrust up into you is deeper, rougher, his hips snapping with a need he's been swallowing down for weeks. "F–fuck, baby," he gasps, voice guttural. "I can't... you feel so good—I'm not gonna last—"

You're trembling, dizzy, your hands scrambling to hold on to Jake's shoulders for balance, for anything, and he's still touching you, still rubbing soft, perfect circles between your thighs, watching you with wide eyes that burn with something deeper than lust. Worship. Longing. Love. "I—I can't," you whimper, your voice barely recognizable, caught somewhere between a sob and a plea. "It's—Hoonie, it's too much—"

"I've got you," he breathes. "You can take it. You're so good for me, baby." And when you cry out, breath catching sharp and sudden in your throat, both of them hear it—hear the way your voice shatters as you cum. You barely manage to warn them, half-choking out a "I'm gonna—Hoonie, I'm—" before your body locks up. Everything crashes. Your orgasm rips through you in waves—sharp, overwhelming, dizzying. Jake holds your hands tighter, whispering, "That's it, baby, so good," while Sunghoon helps guide your hips, slowing your movements just enough to keep you from falling apart completely, easing you through the tremors. You don't even know what's happening at first. One second you're clinging to Jake's shoulders, trying to catch your breath, trying to come down from the orgasm that shattered your whole body, and the next your thighs are shaking all over again. Sunghoon is still moving beneath you, slower now, grinding up into the heat of your overstimulated cunt like he can't stop, won't stop—not until he's buried so deep inside you he disappears.

"Oh my god—" you gasp, body jolting forward. You feel it before you even realize it's happening. A gush, a rush, a sudden burst of pressure that leaves your thighs soaked and trembling and your breath punched clean from your lungs. "Holy shit," Sunghoon mumbles beneath you, stunned, voice half-wrecked with awe. His grip loosens for just a second, and then he's dragging you back down hard onto him, hips snapping up, chasing his own high now, greedy for it. Jake stares like he's seen a miracle. His hand is still between your legs, slick and shaking, frozen in place until Sunghoon growls low in his throat and knocks it away. "She's mine right now," Sunghoon mutters, almost possessive, his eyes half-lidded and dark with something primal. He pulls you back against his chest and buries his face in your neck. "Just for a second—just let me—"

And he thrusts once more, hard and deep, moaning against your skin as he finally loses control, cumming deep inside you. You're both a mess—your body shaking, hips twitching from the overstimulation, and Sunghoon gasping through his orgasm, arms wrapped around your middle, holding you to him so tight you can feel the tremor in his spine. Jake's hands move to your back, rubbing you gently as he presses a kiss to your spine, voice rough as he whispers, "You okay?"

You nod, dazed, shaky and a little broken up. Trying to catch your breath when Jake leans in again, kissing your shoulder, your back, trailing soft apologies into your skin. His eyes are wide and desperate when they meet yours, like he's still afraid this will be ripped away from him because he doesn't deserve to be here.

Sunghoon catches that look too. And he smiles—slow and deliberate—before reaching over, curling his fingers around Jake's jaw. "You're not touching her again until she says so," Sunghoon murmurs, voice still thick and wrecked from how hard you just made him cum. "Matter of fact... you're not coming until we say so either." Jake's breath catches and his whole body tightens. You cup his flushed face between your hands, nodding slowly, your lips brushing his as you whisper, "We're gonna make you beg, baby."

And oh, does he beg. The night stretches out in sweat-slick sheets and bitten lips and whispered commands. Every time Jake gets close to cumming, one of you pulls away—hands vanishing, mouths retreating, leaving him cursing under his breath, pleading for more. You ride him just enough to ruin him, then slide off with a wicked little smile, watching the way he shudders. Sunghoon kisses him through the whimpers, soothing and cruel at once, murmuring, "Not yet. You don't get to cum yet. You don't get to cum until she says so."

Jake obeys. All night long he obeys. And when you finally let him cum, when you finally look down at him hours later and whisper "You can cum now, baby" he sobs with it and thank you, over and over again.

It's not perfect yet and it might never be. But it's good now, better now. There are still moments that hurt—old memories that sometimes sneak in without warning, a passing comment or a flicker in one of their eyes that reminds you how bad it once got. But it's not sharp anymore. The edges have dulled with time, with effort and love. You trust them again. And they trust you. Jake doesn't flinch when you pull away to gather your thoughts. Sunghoon doesn't shut down when he's overwhelmed. You kiss one, then the other, and neither of them cares who sees anymore. There are still stares, whispers, but you're truly past it. The world can look because you know what you have. And that's all that matters to all of you.

Right now, you're doubled over in a sun-drenched corner booth at a café you never thought to go to until Sunghoon took you there, it’s the same one he used to haunt when you were gone. Now it's your spot. Yours and Chaewon's. She's wiping tears from her eyes from laughing so hard, one hand holding her half-empty iced coffee, the other gesturing wildly as she wheezes, "No but actually—He said that? Like what does that even mean?" You're clinging to your stomach, giggling uncontrollably. "I don't know—I don't know why it's so funny—but it is!"

That's when a familiar voice hums warmly behind you.

"Hi baby." Sunghoon's fingers sweep through your hair as he kisses the top of your head, his palm settling on your shoulder with a light squeeze. You tilt your head back to up at him, already reaching for his hand.

"You ready to go? Jake’s outside." he says, then turns his gaze to Chaewon, eyebrows lifting curiously. "And who's this?" "Oh—!" You twist in your seat, eyes still a little crinkled with laughter. "This is Chaewon, from the seminar. Chaewon, this is my boyfriend Sunghoon."

Sunghoon gives her a small, polite smile. "Nice to finally meet you. I've heard nothing but chaotic things." Chaewon grins, wide and proud. "I plead the fifth." He chuckles, then glances down at you again with something that softens all the angles of his face. You know that look. He's happy. Happy you finally made that friend you were talking about, happy you're laughing again, happy you're here.

You suddenly hear Jake’s voice before you even see him approaching, "Baby," Jake calls out, spotting you across the café with a grin already tugging at his lips, "you still wanna go to the Canary Islands—?" He stops in his tracks as his eyes land on Chaewon. You can see the calculation happening behind his gaze. He blinks once, then points between you two. "Who's this?"

Before you can answer, Sunghoon wraps an arm around your shoulders from behind and offers coolly, "Chaewon. She's her friend." Jake nods slowly, glancing between you, Sunghoon, and the girl seated beside you. Then he says, deadpan, "Cool. Chaewon, do you wanna come to the Canary Islands with us?"

You and Chaewon both burst out laughing at the same time, hers more bewildered, yours fondly exasperated. "Jake—what?!" He just shrugs, smile stretching wider, unapologetically smug. "I already bought three tickets. What's one more?" Sunghoon sighs through his nose, pinching the bridge of it. "You're not supposed to just... collect people."

Jake throws a smile at Chaewon. "It's not collecting if she's fun."

"She is fun," you defend. "Also, you're insane." But Jake only smiles more softly now, like he's seeing something you haven't yet. "Yeah. But you're laughing again."

That shuts you up for a second. Because you are laughing, you’re whole in a way you haven't been in months. Sunghoon leans down, brushing your temple with a kiss. Jake slips into the booth across from you and steals a sip of your drink before wrinkling his nose. "You still drink this garbage?" Chaewon side-eyes you. "You're letting him bully your coffee order?" You shake your head with a grin and glance between the two boys—your boys. You know you'll still have days where things feel hard, moments when the past creeps up, nights where you'll have to talk it out again, cry it out again, try again. But you'll do it. All of you will.

Because this is what it looks like now. Jake pulls his phone out of his jacket pocket showing you the email confirmation. "The hotel has ocean views and a private plunge pool. I'm thinking we leave Wednesday, We’ll that’s when the flights are booked for anyway." Sunghoon rests his chin on your shoulder, murmuring, "You've always wanted to go." You smile at him and nod.

"Let's go to the Canary Islands."

════════════════════════════

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[wonnienyang]

The Sun that Always Burns | CH.3

sim jaeyun x fem!reader warnings: hurt and lots of yearning, mentions of alcohol and panic attack, honestly i think thats it! anything else lmk w.c: 13.2k synopsis: it has been four years since you left your old life and started building a new one. you have settled, found new friends, just about to graduate university. things are looking up. but when your best friend invites you to her sisters wedding, your new life if about to be flipped upside down. a/n: hi! it has been a loooong time but chapter 3 is here <33 a massive thank you for all your patience, i know you guys have probably forgot all about this but since i have written this part and having posted in like 3 months, it's only right i give you guys smthn! it's also my birthday so take this as a present. this chapter has no smut since it's a story arc but there are looots of emotion and plot in here so i hope you all enjoy it the same <3

chapter 2 | masterlist | chapter 4

Four years have passed since you left. Four years without a word to your family beyond a carefully chosen Christmas card, one without a return address or landmark, just enough to let them know you are alive but not enough to invite a response. Sometimes you stare at the cards before you send them, turning them over in your hands, wondering if it would make a difference if you added something more - just a sentence, a small glimpse into your life now. But you never do. You’re not sure they’d want to hear it. Or maybe you’re just afraid they wouldn’t.

Do they hate you for what you did? Would they slam the door in your face for leaving so abruptly? It’s a constant fear for you to imagine them cold and bitter because of your reckless decision.

You miss them in ways that are difficult to put into words, in the quiet moments that catch you off guard - the smell of your mother’s cooking that no restaurant has ever quite been able to replicate, the sound of your father’s laughter when he’s trying not to, the way your childhood bedroom always had a slight chill no matter the season. You missed every part of it, of your old life. 

Sometimes you allow yourself to imagine going back, just for a visit, just to see them again. For your mum’s birthday, maybe, just to see how they’ve aged if at all, changed in any way. But the thought of it makes your chest tighten. You aren’t the person they remember. They knew the girl who ran, not the woman who’s learned how to stand still on her own.

College changed you. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. And you like to think it was for the better.

Eunseo had a lot to do with that. She was the first person to make you feel like you belonged in Avanti, sweeping into your life on the first day you moved in like a summer storm, full of light and noise, already knowing where everything was, who to avoid, which cafés made the best coffee. She was god sent. 

You were a mess then, a crying, dismantled version of yourself, and she took you in without hesitation. At first, you thought she pitied you. Maybe she did. But as time went on, it became clear - Eunseo was simply the kind of person who loved with her whole heart, who saw someone in need and decided to stay.

You wouldn’t have made it without her.

Even after she graduated last year, she stayed close, finding a job nearby to remain in the city she loved. You see her often, and every time, you are more than grateful. Grateful for the nights she held you together when you thought you were falling apart after one too many pity parties, for the mornings she dragged you out of bed when all you wanted was to disappear into the blankets. She managed to turn the dark cloud that hovered over you into one with a rainbow, helping you appreciate that there is still some light even in bad weather.

Your college years have been full in the way you hoped they would be - studying late into the night, stumbling into parties you swore you wouldn’t go to, making the kind of questionable choices that are excused by your youth and recklessness. 

But one thing you couldn’t do was fall in love.

You started having flings in your second year. Just casual fuck arounds - one-night stands, situationships that never turned into anything real. It was just to get the itch out of your system. A girl has needs and even your broken spirit needed a good fucking every so often - even if it is with questionable men that have so many red flags that you could stitch them together and lure in a bull to the pen. 

Eunseo never questioned it either. “I support women’s rights,” she’d say, raising her glass with a smirk, “but more importantly, I support women’s wrongs.”

She never asked why you never settled down despite clearly being someone who craves love more than lust, she never pried, and you’re thankful for that. She was good like that.

However, even if she didn’t pry, your brain did a good job of keeping your reasoning for abandoning love at the forefront of your mind.

Jaeyun’s name hasn’t passed your lips in 1,460 days. A choice you made the moment you stepped off the bus in Pyeongchang. Yet, despite your best efforts, he never really left you. His name lived in the spaces between your thoughts, in the way every touch from another felt hollow, in the way no words ever settled in your chest the way his did. You learned to ignore it. To push it down. But it never disappeared.

Your heart still beats to the sound of his soul.

Still, you’ve built something for yourself here. You’re in your final year of University and oh so content with at least this aspect of your life. Happy, even. You found your way into film by accident, stumbling into a passion you hadn’t expected but now couldn’t imagine letting go of. An internship at Lift Media loomed on the horizon, the kind of opportunity you wouldn’t have dared to dream of before. For once, things felt like they were falling into place.

And yet, as much as your heart is filling up with other loves, you can’t shake the puppy-eyed boy out. He’s always going to take up space within your chest, always there, always loved by you.

You still thought about him every day. Wondered if he was happy. If he was enjoying Busan. If he had moved on. That last thought is the one you try to avoid, the one that leaves an ache in your chest when it creeps in late at night. You want him to be happy. Of course, you do. But selfishly, you don’t want to know if that happiness is because of someone else.

Someone who isn’t you.

“Helloooo? Y/N? Are you even listening?”

Eunseo waves a hand in front of your face, pulling you back to the present. You blink, realising you’ve been staring out of the café window, watching the way the autumn leaves gather in piles along the pavement, so free but connected. You turn back to her, sheepish.

“Of course,” you say, not very convincingly. “You were saying how much you love me and that we should get married.”

Eunseo scoffs, but her eyes are full of amusement. “Weirdly, you’re close.”

Your brow furrows as you set down your coffee. “Wait, really?” You love Eunseo, you do, but you’re not sure marrying her is on your bucket list. Sharing a bed with her for the rest of your life as she kicks purple bruises onto your skin doesn’t sound so appealing.  

“Well, not us.” She gestures vaguely, fingers splaying in the air like she’s conjuring an image. “Marriage is involved, though.”

Your stomach drops. “Please don’t tell me you’re marrying Serim after, like, three dates.”

Park Serim; strong, devoted, and the only man who has been insane enough to put up with all of Eunseo’s schemes. She likes to vet her men before committing and it is a gruelling process - another reason you don’t want to tie the knot with her. But Serim is up for the challenge it seems, not phased by the silent treatment, her list of pros and cons that she literally sent to him so he could analyse and add on anything he thought she missed…he’s a perfect match for her.

She barks out a laugh, smacking the table. A few heads turn at her sudden outburst, but she doesn’t care. “I like him, but I’m not that insane. He hasn’t even passed the pussy eating test yet,” she smirks, “I’m testing that out next week.” Her pussy eating test, aka, he can make her cum at least two times from his tongue alone. 

You shake your head as you pick up your coffee, taking a long contemplative sip. “So full of romance and wonder, Eunseo.” Your tone is light and carefree as she grunts, knowing you’ll never understand her process of finding a husband.

“Whatever, Y/N,” she leans forward, eyes burning with intent. “It’s my sister getting married.”

You nod, placing your coffee down on the table, remembering her mentioning it in passing. Eunseo doesn’t speak much about her family. Not because she doesn’t want to, but because she knows that it’s a touchy subject for you. You deflect at the mention of family or anything to do with your past, to be honest, so she doesn’t spout too much about the ins and outs of her own.

“She’s a control freak,” Eunseo continues. “Wants everything planned down to the last detail. And someone dropped out, which means there’s a spare seat at the wedding. And guess what? You’re free that weekend.”

You hesitate. You’ve never met her family. Despite her keeping her conversations about family to a minimum, she has invited you to gatherings before out of politeness, but you always declined, not wanting to impose. Or maybe, deep down, you weren’t ready to be surrounded by something that felt too much like home.

Eunseo reads your hesitation immediately, knowing you like her favourite recipe. “Come on, Y/N. Just this once. I checked your schedule and you have nothing on. I even have a dress for you. And you owe me one.”

Your eyes narrow. “For what?”

“Well, not yet,” she admits, grinning. “But I heard the best man is single, older than you and has these ridiculously big eyes that could melt stone. I’m setting you up with him.” Her face is smug and bright as she divulges her plan to you.

“So let me get this straight,” you quirk a brow, “I owe you for something that hasn’t even happened yet?”

“Details, details.” She waves a hand. “Please, Y/N. I want you to meet my family. Think of them as yours, yeah?”

That tugs at your heart a little. Your best friend offering you a place in her family is a privilege you don’t feel worthy of.

“Eunseo-” You’re about to decline, the words on the very tip of your tongue, but she’s already pouting, eyes big and imploring. She knows how to get you. You sigh, knowing you’ve lost before you’ve even begun. “Fine. I’ll come.”

The sun shifts, its light spilling through the window, warming your skin.

“Great!” Eunseo claps, practically bouncing in her seat. “We leave tomorrow.”

Your head snaps up. “Tomorrow?”

“Yep.” She stands, grabbing her bag. “We need to be there early for fittings and all that wedding stuff.”

You groan. “I thought the wedding wasn’t until Saturday?”

“Yeah, but I figured I’d drag you along early. Or, you know, you could drive yourself.” Her grin is wicked and knowing, teasing you.

You deadpan as you stand up to meet her eye level. “Fuck you. You know I can’t drive.”

She laughs, taking your hand. “And I still don’t understand how you’re 23 and can’t even handle a go-kart.”

You roll your eyes but smile. Maybe this will be good for you. Maybe, for once, you can let love surround you without thinking about…

Him.

___________

You fold the last of your clothes with carelessness, stuffing them into your suitcase as if cramming fabric into the confined space might also quiet the noise in your head. It’s been years since you last packed for anything, and as you stand in your small flat, staring down at the open case, it occurs to you how little you’ve really needed to.

Pyeongchang became your sanctuary once you left. The mountains, the crisp air, the rhythm of city life on the outskirts of something wild and untamed. It gave you a semblance of purpose or at least the illusion of one. Between coursework, bakery shifts, and your occasional attempts at being social, you never felt the urge to leave nor have you had the time. Every corner of this place holds something new, something untouched by your past. 

And yet, here you are, packing. Again.

Your fingers brush over the worn handle of your suitcase, the same one you clutched so tightly four years ago when you boarded that bus and never looked back. It’s one of the few relics you’ve kept from that life, the only piece of baggage - literal or otherwise - that made the journey with you. Even now, just the sight of it stirs something uneasy in your stomach. The ghost of who you were then lingers in its scuffed corners and fading stitching, a silent witness to your agony.

Something about packing and the memories of your teenage self resurfacing makes you queasy and regretful that you accepted the invitation from Eunseo.

A wedding. Love. Commitment. Things that once felt sonin reach, but now only seem distant and abstract. Love, as you once knew it, is buried within the past, and the thought of surrounding yourself with it, watching people promise forever, eels like an exercise in masochism.

You experienced a love so potent with Jaeyun that it became part of your DNA, something that rooted itself in your bones and refused to let go, like a ghost haunting the walls of their old house as it tries to find its purpose before crossing over to death. It was unfiltered, all-consuming. It was real. Now, you see couples around you, holding hands in coffee shops, sharing quiet laughter in the bakery queue, and it all feels…less. Their love is not your love, not close. It never will be. You tell yourself it’s unfair to think this way, that you’re projecting a lost love onto theirs, planning the failure of each couple in your head to make you feel better about your own dead relationship, but that doesn’t stop the feeling from creeping in.

The ‘what ifs’ come next, as they always do. What if you had stayed? What if you had gone with him? Would you have a ring on your finger? A life mapped out together? Would you be standing in Eunseo’s sister’s place, preparing for your own wedding instead of just attending one? It’s a dangerous path to wander down, and you force yourself to step away before you drown in it.

You check the clock. 10:23am. That gives you roughly seven minutes until Eunseo arrives.

Your eyes drift across the room, checking for any loose ends before landing on the navy hoodie draped over the back of your chair. CERRITOS, bold and white, emblazoned across the chest. You don’t even remember putting it there - it usually stays tucked away, hidden from sight. Out of sight, out of mind. But of course, it never really is.

This was Jaeyun’s. His favourite. The one he pulled over your head when you were cold, the one he gave you after long nights tangled in his sheets, the one that smelled of him long after he stopped holding you. Eventually, it became yours in a quiet, unspoken exchange. He never asked for it back, only ever taking it to refresh his scent on the fabric before returning it to you, as if making sure his presence lingered even when he wasn’t there. He liked knowing you smelled like him - he told you once, with a grin and a kiss to your shoulder, that it made him feel like a wolf marking his mate.

Now, the fabric has lost its scent, but not its hold over you. You still wear it on the nights you miss him most, wrapping yourself in memories you can’t seem to shed. You tell yourself it’s just a hoodie. Just an object. But it’s not, and it never has been.

Your hands tighten around the fabric, pressing it to your chest for just a moment before you throw it into the suitcase. If this trip is going to be difficult - and you already know it will be - you at least deserve some small comfort.

Then, before your mind can spiral further, a car horn blares outside, the sound lingering just a second too long.

Eunseo.

You snap the suitcase shut, zipping it up with a finality that feels like sealing away something far heavier than clothing. With a deep breath, you grab the handle and step towards the door, forcing your feet to move forward. Whatever awaits you at this wedding, you’ll face it head-on.

Or at least, you’ll try.

_____

The drive to Eunseo’s parents’ house is smooth, the kind of journey that allows your mind to wander without urgency. The road bends gently, framed by towering trees that murmur in the summer breeze, their rustling leaves forming a soundscape of whispers - soft and full of life. You roll down the window, resting your head on your arm, letting the wind tangle through your messy hair. The air is thick with the scent of sun-warmed earth and pine, soothing in a way that makes your chest feel lighter, if only for a moment.

Eunseo is quiet when she drives, her usual stream of chatter absent. It’s one of the rare times she lets silence settle between you without filling it. You appreciate that about her - the way she understands when to pull you into her world of relentless energy and when to let you sit in your own thoughts. She knows you love a quiet drive, taking the time to just be. She hums under her breath to the Noah Kahan album she selected as she steers with one hand, the other drumming lightly against the wheel.

The further you go, the more the city thins out. Towering buildings are replaced with green fields, the occasional farmhouse dotting the landscape. It’s the kind of place that makes you forget about deadlines, unread messages, the gnawing ache of old memories. The sun feels warmer here, sinking golden fingers into your skin. You wonder if it’s always like this or if your nerves are just making you hyper-aware of everything.

By the time Eunseo pulls up to her family home, your breath catches.

House doesn’t feel like the right word. Estate, maybe. Mansion. Something too grand for you to comprehend. The building is decorated in cool ash-coloured stone, its towering windows reflecting the afternoon light. Ivy creeps up the sides in a random sprawl, woven with clusters of pink flowers that look bright and inviting. The driveway is lined with cherry blossom trees, their petals fluttering like confetti as Eunseo’s car disturbs the stillness.

The sheer scale of it is mesmerising. You knew Eunseo came from money - she’s joked about it often enough - but you didn’t realise she was this kind of rich. The kind that makes your worn-down suitcase - and you - feel even smaller against the backdrop of something so opulent.

Perhaps you should have known you were walking into boujee territory when you were passing by houses with more than one car in the driveway. 

She grins at your expression, tapping the steering wheel. “We’re here!” Her voice is alight with excitement, eyes gleaming. You nod, making a silent promise to mirror her enthusiasm, even if a part of you still feels like you don’t belong here, or want to be here; you can’t ruin her time by being a debbie-downer 

You step out, stretching your legs that grew stiff from the drive. The stairs leading up to the entrance are wide, a pristine white door waiting at the top like something out of a film. There’s a moment - just a passing flicker - where the sight of it triggers a memory. Not of this place, but of a conversation.

Those rich bitch houses are so ugly with their grand doors that look like you’re reaching heaven. I want as small a house as possible so I’m always close to you, no matter what room I’m in.

Jaeyun’s voice is so clear in your head it makes you pause mid-step. His bright smile and promise of a future you ripped away from him sit heavy on your heart. But you shake him off quickly, forcing your legs to move, dragging your suitcase up each step while holding your dress bag straight. Halfway up, you curse every rich person’s need to be extra and bigger to flaunt their money because your thighs are already burning.

The door swings open before you reach the top, revealing a broad-shouldered man with a beaming smile. “My baby!” Eunseo’s father’s voice booms, warm and full of unmistakable joy. He pulls her into a hug so tight you wonder if she can breathe.

You miss your father. It’s not a thought you allow yourself to dwell on often, but moments like this make it impossible to ignore. His comforting words, the piggyback rides, the way his oddly spiced cinnamon body wash would cling to his clothes - things you never realised you’d long for until they were no longer within reach.

“This must be Y/N! It only took four years to meet you,” Eunseo’s father laughs, deep and rich, before pulling you into a hug just as tight as the one he gave his daughter. There’s something about the way he embraces you that makes your throat tighten - a quiet kindness, an unspoken welcome. You return the hug with one arm, the other stretched outward to keep your dress from creasing.

“Thank you for having me. It’s an honour to be part of your daughter’s big day.” The words are easy, overly polite, but genuine. He steps back, his eyes crinkling with a warmth that makes you feel fuzzy inside. You understand where Eunseo gets her kindness from.

“You’re more than welcome here. Our home is yours.” He says it so definitely that you can’t help but feel for even a second that you belong here. “The party is in a few hours,” he tells you, gesturing towards the house. “The happy couple aren’t here, off running last-minute errands, but you’ll meet them tonight.” Then he turns, pointing up the grand staircase inside. “Eunseo will show you where you’re sleeping. If you need anything, me and the wife will be hovering around.”

She didn’t mention a party.

You barely have time to react before Eunseo grabs your wrist, practically vibrating with excitement. “You’re going to love them,” she gushes, dragging you inside. “They’re super nice, especially her man, literally like someone out of a hot cowboy Elsie Silver book - minus the cowboy and more geeky.”

You smile at her description. It’s nice that her sister has found someone with so many green flags. You’re not really one to hang around with good men these days, your rendezvous is strictly for men who don’t expect anything more from you than a quick fuck.

Although, if they’re as good as your best friend makes them out to be, you’re in for one loved-up week…Not the greatest outcome considering you still can’t look at a heart themed anything without bursting into tears at what could have been for you.

Still, you push it down, letting her pull you along and up the mansion’s stairs, her voice spilling over with enthusiasm as she titters about the night ahead.

Despite yourself, you smile. Maybe, just for tonight, you can let yourself exist without the weight of the past pressing down on you.

___

A few hours later, the hum of conversation and clinking flutes drifts up from the party below, a telltale sign that the engagement celebration is on full blast. Laughter rises but up here, in the quiet sanctuary of the bedroom, Eunseo is focused, curling a wispy strand of your hair with precision. The soft scent of heat and hairspray lingers between you.

You glance up at her, taking in how effortlessly beautiful she is. The way her bangs frame her face, how her naturally pouty lips curve into a smirk - she’s flawless in that unbothered way only she can be. You’re jealous.

“If you keep staring, I’ll literally take you on the bed,” she teases, flicking your forehead gently.

You laugh, shoving her shoulder in protest. “You wish.”

Puckering her lips dramatically, she leans in close as if she’s about to kiss you. You play along, tilting your chin up just enough to humour her. Life is easy with Eunseo, like floating down a calm river in a dingy, no effort, just the gentle push of the current guiding you forward. You used to be this way with Jaeyun.

Perhaps it’s the similarities between them that make you gravitate towards the girl so effortlessly. 

“Alright, go get changed. I need to see my masterpiece complete.” She steps back, admiring her handiwork before marching over to grab the dress. Without warning, she thrusts it against your chest, eyes gleaming. “You’re gonna look amazing. That babe of a best man is gonna fall at your feet. Now, go.” She shoos you toward the ensuite with an exaggerated wave of her hand.

As you take the dress from her, a thought creeps into your mind. You hesitate, gripping the fabric a little tighter before asking, “How many people are actually going to be at this party?”

Eunseo turns back to you with an innocent blink, lips pursed as if contemplating how to break something gently. “Oh, you know,” she hums, twisting a curl of her own hair between her fingers, “just a few people.”

You narrow your eyes. “Eunseo.”

“Okay, okay, fine.” She throws up her hands. “A lot of people. Like, a lot a lot. The bride and groom are crazy popular. And I mean, not just with family - we’re talking old classmates, colleagues, some of their industry friends, all of our cousins… It’s basically a mini wedding before the wedding.” She claps her hands together in excitement.

Your stomach tightens. “Eunseo, I thought this was just a small gathering. Like, a family thing.”

“Oops?” She grins, clearly unbothered by the panic creeping into your expression. “Come on, it’s gonna be fun, and a good 80% of these people are only here for the party tonight, not the entire time.” The reassurance is welcomed but lacks the impact you need. If there are a lot of people down there, you need to find the quietest corner and hope the night passes quickly. 

Parties are fine, you like them. It’s the ones where you can’t get wasted and fall over your own feet that are the issue.

“You’ll be the hottest one there, aside from me, obviously,” Eunseo smirks, eyes landing on the bag that contains the mystery dress. You let her pick it because you’re semi-hopeless at picking appropriate clothes for special events. Even in high school, if Yeji wasn’t picking your outfits for occasions, you were not going.

That’s one thing that hasn’t changed.

You groan, pressing your fingers against your temples. “I swear you do this on purpose.”

“Of course I do.” She winks. “Now, get changed before I dress you myself.”

You sigh but comply, stepping inside and locking the door behind you. The mirror greets you, reflecting the version of yourself that Eunseo has carefully crafted tonight.

Never in your life have you looked this beautiful.

For a moment, you just stare, taking it all in. The soft curls, the expertly blended makeup, the way your features seem more refined yet still wholly your own. It’s strange. You feel like you’ve shed something - some old version of yourself left behind to make way for…this.

With careful fingers, you unzip the garment bag. The fabric spills out in a cascade of deep, sultry red. You gasp.

“Um, Eunseo?” you call out hesitantly, holding the dress up against your body. It’s stunning. Silky, form-fitting, allure dripping from the seams - but far too sexy for a family event. “This dress is…”

“Hot,” she finishes for you from the other side of the door. “Now shut up and put it on. My cousins will be wearing something way sluttier, so you’re fine.”

Her nonchalant tone does little to reassure you, but it’s either this or the more conservative dress meant for the actual wedding. So, with a deep breath, you slip it on. The material hugs you in all the right places, cinching at the waist and draping over your hips like liquid. It’s been months, more like years,  since you’ve worn anything this beautiful, since you’ve felt this beautiful.

Your fingers absentmindedly reach for your necklace, the familiar weight of the sun settling against your collarbone. The gold glows softly against the red fabric, a stark reminder of everything you’ve carried with you, even when you tried to leave it behind.

Honestly, you wanted to get rid of the necklace and replace it with something that had far less meaning than the burning orb and etched date attached to it. But you couldn’t. This wasn’t a massive blue diamond that you could through into the ocean, this was much more. This represented love.

When you open the door, Eunseo is waiting, now changed into a pastel blue dress that fits her like a glove. It’s modest in the arms and neckline, but a daring slit runs high up her thigh. Your jaw nearly drops at the sight of her.

She eyes you up and down with an approving nod. “Look at you! A literal goddess.” She takes your hands, giving them a little squeeze. “You ready to upstage my sister at her own engagement party?”

Your stomach flips. “Eunseo…you didn’t pick these outfits just to stand out, did you?”

She scoffs, feigning innocence. “Of course not! We’re just naturally hotter than everyone here - including her.” She grins mischievously before grabbing a shoebox from the bed. Inside is a pair of gold heels - the exact ones you had admired earlier while she was unpacking. She holds them out to you.

“Take these. You can kick them off whenever, but for the grand entrance, you need to be complete.” She waves a hand over you like an artist admiring their finished painting.

You shake your head with a chuckle, but there’s warmth spreading in your chest. Maybe, just for tonight, you can let yourself feel good about being seen.

Putting on the gold heels, you instantly gain four inches, rising to Eunseo’s eye level. You wobble slightly, adjusting to the unfamiliar height, but she steadies you with a firm grip on your arm.

“Ready to rock this bitch?” she asks, flashing you a devilish grin.

You take a deep breath, smoothing down the silky fabric of your dress before giving a resolute nod. Without hesitation, she latches onto your arm and drags you toward the staircase.

The moment you descend, you feel it. A shift in the air. Eyes - far too many of them - turning toward you with quiet intrigue. Conversations falter for the briefest moment, and though it lasts no more than a heartbeat, it’s enough to make your skin prickle. You feel like Hilary Duff when she cascades down the stairs at the Halloween Dance - beautiful and awe-stopping 

Some gazes are appreciative, admiring even, but others linger in a way that makes your stomach turn. The ones that belong to men at least twice your age. The way they lick their lips makes you recoil. You resist the urge to fold your arms over your chest and focus on the buzz surrounding you instead.

God, you could use some Tequila Rose right about now.

It’s a scene straight out of a film - elegant and absurdly extravagant. Waiters weave effortlessly through the room, trays balanced with hors d’oeuvres so delicate they look like they belong in an art exhibit rather than in someone’s mouth. Champagne flutes glimmer under the glow of a massive chandelier, its crystals refracting light like a sky full of stars. Every surface is polished to perfection, from the marble floors beneath your heels to the sleek, gold-trimmed furniture arranged in intimate clusters throughout the space.

You try not to think about how much this all costs. The thought alone makes your bank account whimper in greed...or is it envy? 

“This is insane,” you murmur under your breath, leaning slightly toward Eunseo.

She hums in agreement, though with far less concern . “Yeah, my parents don’t half-arse anything. Wait till you see the wedding.”

You scan the room, taking in the sea of impeccably dressed guests. Men in tailored suits and women draped in silks, their jewellery glinting as they gesture animatedly in conversation. The hum of laughter and clinking glasses creates a steady, lively backdrop.

Your eyes land on an older couple near the grand piano, deep in discussion. The woman wears a string of pearls that likely cost more than your entire tuition, and for a brief moment, you wonder if there’s anyone here generous - or drunk - enough to pay off your student loans.

“Don’t even think about it,” Eunseo says, nudging you playfully. She had a knack for reading your mind and as soon as she sees your eyes bulge out with dollar signs, she knows exactly what you’re thinking.

You scoff. “What? One of these rich dudes could be my knight in shining Prada.”

Eunseo barks out a laugh before snatching two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter, pressing one into your hand. “If you pull that off, I’ll personally bow at your feet and kindly ask you to get your new money bank to pay off my credit cards.”

Perhaps that’s one reason why you never knew just how wealthy Eunseo is. She never got handouts, everything was in her name which meant everything she bought, everything she owned, was entirely through her own hard work. She could easily ask her father for money -  you can see that quite evidently now as you stand in the grand living room - but she never does.

Grinning, you clink your glass against hers before taking a tentative sip. The bubbles tickle your tongue. Definitely not the cheap kind you’re used to. You don’t know if you can go back to Tesco’s extra dry prosecco.

“Hey, Eunseo?” Your voice is steady, curious. “I just realised…I don’t know Yeoreum’s fiancé’s name.”

She pauses mid-sip of her champagne, then bursts out laughing, smacking your arm lightly. How could she forget to tell you? “Oh, that’s right! It’s Jaeyun.”

Your heart stutters. There are a lot of Jaeyuns in Korea. Jaeyun from TO1 could walk through that door for all you know. The name alone isn’t enough to set you off balance, not yet.

“Jake is what he goes by, though,” she adds, completely unaware that she has just set off a grenade inside you.

Jake.

Your stomach drops, so fast and so violently you feel like you might actually be sick. There might be a hundred Jaeyuns in this country, but how many also go by Jake? The odds feel astronomically slim, but you tell yourself, desperately, that maybe - fucking hopefully - it’s just a really strange coincidence. Maybe it’s some other Jake. Some other Jaeyun.

But then, the voices in the archway grow louder, and you know you’re out of time.

Yeoreum enters first, radiant and poised, her beauty effortlessly eclipsing every photograph Eunseo had shown you. And then behind her.. he steps in. Jaeyun.

Your Jaeyun.

The air leaves your lungs. Static floods your ears, drowning out the noise of distant conversation and glee. He’s greeting guests, shaking hands, smiling that easy, beautiful smile and all you can do is stand there as panic claws up your throat, like a cat clinging on to a curtain for dear life. Each step he takes towards you feels like a countdown to something catastrophic.

If your body would listen to you, you would be running, bolting out of the nearest exit, disappearing before he could see you. But you can’t move. You can’t breathe. You can only watch, helpless, as he draws closer.

He looks different, yet exactly the same somehow. Sharper, his boyish softness long gone. His face has hardened in the way time does to people, more defined now, but those eyes, fuck, they haven’t changed at all. He’s wearing a black suit, tailored to perfection, he’s wearing no shirt under his low-cut v-neck blazer, exposing tanned skin and the chain resting against his collarbone - the same chain you’ve had dangling in your face as he made love to you. His hair is slicked back, though a few strands have rebelliously fallen forward, framing his face in the way they haven’t before

He looks expensive. He looks effortless.

He looks like home.

Eunseo says something to you, her voice getting lost to the sound of your thumping heart. Because now, Jaeyun’s gaze lands on you, and in an instant, everything shifts.

His body stills. His expression freezes, and just for a second a flicker of recognition, disbelief, and unreadable awe falls over his features. He turns toward you instinctively, as if the force pulling you two together still exists, still lingers after all this time. And that realisation terrifies you.

“Eunseo!” Yeoreum’s voice breaks through the tension, bright and oblivious to the cloud of thick anguish as she rushes forward, throwing her arms around her sister. “Oh my god, I missed you!”

Eunseo grins, squeezing her back. “Missed you too, brat.”

“Jakey, come here,” Yeoreum calls, beckoning Jaeyun closer. He moves without breaking eye contact with you, his steps measured, cautious, like he’s approaching something fragile. He doesn’t quite believe you’re real, you can tell it in the way his eyes are screaming in confusion and adoration, like you’re some sick pre-wedding prank.

“You must be Y/N,” Yeoreum says, beaming at you. “Eunseo talks about you all the time!”

She is stunning. Warm and kind in a way that feels effortless, her presence somehow golden, just like her sister. She is perfect. 

Perfect for him.

The realisation claws at your insides, and you feel like you might actually fall apart at any moment.

Still, you plaster on a smile, pushing every emotion deep, deep down. “It’s so nice to finally meet you,” you say, voice just barely holding steady. You hug her lightly, stealing one last glance at Jaeyun while she can’t see you. His expression is unreadable, his lips parted slightly like he wants to say something, but no words come out. His eyes…they are still the same. Still looking at you like you are everything.

You force yourself to turn back to Yeoreum, ignoring the burning in your throat. “Congratulations,” you say quickly, like ripping off a plaster, your skin tearing as the word leaves your lips. How can you be happy when she’s the one holding the love of your life’s heart in their hands.

“Aw, thank you!” she smiles so appreciatively, and you want to scream.

It’s too much. All of it. The weight of the past, the suffocating closeness of him, the way your body still reacts to him like no time has passed at all. It’s too much.

“Excuse me,” you blurt, already stepping back. “I’m just going to the restroom, I’ll be right back.”

You don’t wait for a response. You don’t care if anyone calls after you. You just turn and leave, weaving through the crowd, heart pounding in your ears. Each breath feels too shallow, your chest tightening as you break into a near-run up the stairs.

The moment you reach the guest room, you push the door open and slip inside, shutting it quickly behind you. And then finally, you allow yourself to exhale. A shuddering, ragged breath as you clutch your chest, fingers trembling.

How? How out of every man in this world, out of every best friend’s sister’s fiancé, did it have to be him?

You stand in the middle of the room, eyes squeezed shut as you replay the last five minutes over and over again, like a nightmare on a continuous loop. The sound of his voice, the way he looked at you, the way your body responded before your mind could catch up.

The past was supposed to stay buried. But now, it’s here. It’s him. And there is nowhere left to run.

“Y/N?”

The Australian accent cuts through the air like a blade, sharp and unrelenting. You turn slowly because moving too fast might shatter you, seeing him too quickly might make your bones dissolve and heart shatter all over again. And then there he is. 

Jaeyun. The boy you once knew, now a man, standing mere inches away. His eyes lock onto yours, widening in disbelief, and before you can react, his hands are on your face, fingers trembling as they cradle your cheeks, his palms pulsing with fear and excitement, joy and apprehension. His body presses against yours, so close you can feel the warmth of him, the steady, aching pulse of a heart that once beat only for you.

“Baby,” he breathes, the word breaking apart in the space between you. His eyes scan your face like he’s trying to commit you to memory, to prove to himself that you’re not a cruel hallucination. “Where did you go?”

The anguish in his voice nearly undoes you. It’s raw, unguarded, desperate. That way this is his first question, no anger or disdain towards you in the slightest - even if you did deserve it. No. It’s pure love still laced in every syllable. Somehow, you wonder if it would be easier if he just blew up, told you to fuck off and never come back because right now, the way he’s drinking you in like you’re his entire world still, makes everything much harder.

Instinctively, your hands fly up, gripping his wrists as you squeeze your eyes shut. The weight of the years crashes over you, the memories pressing into every crevice of your being. You have missed his touch. Although his hands are a little rougher, they still hold the gentle fondness they used to.

“Princess,” he whispers out the pet name so easily, like not a moment has passed. His forehead presses against yours, his breath unsteady as he finds words to plead. “Please talk to me.”

Jaeyun’s hands drift from your face, tracing down your shoulders, his touch hesitant, reverent yet firm like he’s afraid you might disappear again. His eyes flicker over your features, drinking in the changes, the subtle marks of time. You are older, wiser, perhaps a little more guarded, but you are still you. Still the girl he once loved. The girl he still-

His voice cracks. “What happened? Why did you leave?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, fighting to steady your breath. And then, finally, you speak, holding in a gigantic sob. “You’re...engaged.”

Probably not the first thing he was expecting you to say after four years.

The words land between you like a grenade, blowing up the fairytale and bringing him back to reality. His hands drop from your skin, leaving behind a coldness that seeps into your bones. He stares at you, mouth parted slightly, struggling to process the weight of your statement. 

He can’t deny it or pretend it’s not happening. He is marrying someone. Someone who isn’t you. The last time he looked into your eyes, felt you under his fingertips, he had promised you were the girl he would get on one knee for - he even gave you a ring as a placeholder for when the day would come. 

“She seems nice,” you add, voice barely above a whisper as you try and act put together.

His jaw tightens. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend.” His voice is quiet, but there’s a storm of anguish brewing beneath the surface. “Don’t act like this doesn’t hurt you too. Don’t make it seem like I’m the only one breaking right now.”

Your breath catches. He’s so raw with his feelings and you can still read every single one of them. He’s upset, delirious, confused, and still stricken with love. That’s why it hurts to watch you pretend that this isn’t affecting you too. In fact, this should be affecting you more yet he’s the one with trembling hands and a bruised heart.

Jaeyun exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair before gesturing helplessly toward you. “I looked for you everywhere,” he says, his voice raw. “I spent months trying to find you.”

You knew that already. Of course, you did. Deep down you would have guessed that his threat to search over the country for you was more than a false promise. But for months? You thought maybe a few weeks, a couple of sleepless nights before he would have left for Busan and moved on. But months?

His voice wavers. “What did I do?”

Your heart clenches. “Nothing.” It’s the first question you truly answer and it only leads to more queries in his fragile heart.

Jaeyun shakes his head as he refuses to accept the answer. “You don’t just abandon people you love, Y/N. Not like that. Not us.” He hesitates, his eyes searching yours. “There had to be something I did to make you fall out of-”

“Jake!”

The voice cuts through the moment like a knife though distant in the hallway. You flinch, your head bowing instinctively as your heart pounds against your ribs.

Jaeyun turns slightly, his body still half-angled toward you as if reluctant to pull away completely. His eyes beg you for something - an answer, an excuse, anything. But you have nothing left to give him.

“Y/N, please,” Jaeyun wants to hold you, kiss you, to have you wrapped up in his embrace the way you should be. He needs to understand what happened but he can’t. Not right now. Not at his fucking engagement party. “Don’t leave me again, baby, please.” His voice is quiet, despair etched within his tone as he cuts you off. He cannot lose you again, not without some semblance of an answer.

His gaze flickers downward, landing on the delicate gold chain around your neck. His chain. The one he gave you years ago, the one you never stopped wearing. He inhales sharply, his eyes tracing the familiar shape of the pendant. There is still some hope within him, the gleam of the necklace in the light mirroring his faith that you still love him somehow. When he looks back up at you, he looks undone but resolute.

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs as though it’s a secret just for you, scared that the girl he’s promised his name to downstairs might overhear. “Just like always.”

“Jake, your dad’s about to give a speech-”

Heeseung’s voice carries through the room but Jaeyun doesn’t move. Neither do you. 

Stepping inside, Heeseung’s footsteps falter as his eyes land on you. He freezes, his expression shifting from confusion to something darker. For years, Heeseung tried to let go of his anger, convinced himself that seeing Jaeyun happy with Yeoreum was enough to forgive the past. But now, the resentment simmers beneath his skin, clawing its way back up as he stares at you. The audacity of you.

“Y/N?” His tone is cutthroat, his disbelief barely contained. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

You don’t look at him. You don’t dare.

“You should go,” you murmur, forcing the words past the lump in your throat. “I’ll leave in the morning.”

“Don’t,” Jaeyun pleads, eyes blown out with panic. “Don’t walk away again…”

You shut your eyes. You can’t do this. Not now. Not here.

Brushing past him and Heeseung, you make your way to the door, ignoring the way Jaeyun’s fingers graze your wrist in a desperate attempt to hold onto you. You don’t stop. You don’t look back.

The moment you step out into the hallway, the world feels unbearably loud. His family is here. His friends. People from a past you wanted to erase. Your vision blurs, the weight of it all pressing down on you as you rush down the stairs, each step echoing in your ears.

You aren’t paying attention when you collide with someone at the base of the staircase, the impact jolting you back into reality.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, bowing quickly, hands trembling at your sides.

“Y/N?”

This time, it’s Mr. Sim’s voice that grabs your attention. It quivers with astonishment, his eyes widening as they land on you. “What are you doing here?” He steps closer, his head tilting slightly to level with yours as if trying to confirm that you are, in fact, real, much like Jaeyun had just done. “What-” His voice falters, words escaping him as he looks at the girl he once believed would marry his son.

You swallow thickly, forcing yourself to bow respectfully. “Mr. Sim, it’s nice to see you again.” You speak evenly, though you avoid his eyes. “I’m sure you’re very proud of Jaeyun.”

“Sweetheart, we thought something awful had happened to you.” The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, forcing you to meet his gaze. Heartache carves deep lines into his features, the weight of unspoken words pressing between you. “Your mum and dad haven’t stopped worrying about you.”

Those words almost cause you to break, hearing about the pain you’ve put your parents through, but luckily a gentle hand touches your shoulder, grounding you. Eunseo - your saving grace.

��Girl, there you are! You took one long bathroom break.” She laughs, blissfully unaware of the storm swirling inside you. She bows politely to Mr. Sim. “Ready for your speech, Sir?”

Mr. Sim studies you a moment longer before returning Eunseo’s bow. “I’ve been preparing this speech for years,” he says with a tight-lipped smile, “only needed a few minor tweaks.”

His eyes flicker over you one last time before he heads down the stairs. You know. You know exactly what he meant - he had once imagined giving this speech at your engagement party, the one that everyone who knew you and Jaeyun had already planned - he didn’t think someone else would be in your place. 

Eunseo’s grip tightens on your hand, guiding you toward the dining hall, where the room is fully alive, unaware of the inner turmoil you’re facing. Your chest tightens as Jaeyun strolls in behind Heeseung, hands casually tucked in his pockets - until he sees her. His future wife - Yeoreum. A soft smile graces his lips as he pulls her into his side. The action is effortless, instinctive.

And it shatters you.

It should be you.

You should be marrying him, taking his second name, waking up to him every morning for the rest of your life. Your body quakes with a need to be close to him, that quick taste of his touch on your skin clearly not enough to curb your appetite for his love.

A fork clinks against a wine glass, drawing everyone’s attention. Mr. Sim clears his throat, a warm smile spreading across his face. “Thank you, everyone, for coming. I’ll keep this short, considering I’m sure you’re all sick of us talking - especially with a free bar in the room.” Laughter erupts, and you watch as Yeoreum beams up at Jaeyun.

It’s unbearable.

“My son,” Mr. Sim continues, “has always been someone who wears his heart on his sleeve, who gives one hundred percent of himself to the person he loves.” His eyes find yours, and you stop breathing. “Jaeyun deserves someone who loves him unconditionally, without prejudice, without pride, and always with his best interest in mind. And I believe he’s found that.”

The walls close in. Your vision blurs, and suddenly, the air is too thick, the weight of the past and present crushing you all at once.

You bolt.

Bursting through the entrance of the house, you gasp for air, chest rising and falling in erratic movements. Your fingers claw at your collarbone as if that alone will release the unbearable pressure, but nothing helps. The panic sets in quickly and you find yourself falling onto the steps, the cold stone under you doing little to wake you from this nightmare.

This cannot be happening. It can’t be. You’re sick, you’re hurt…and it’s all your fucking fault.

A hand touches your shoulder, warm and steady. Words reach your ears, muffled by the chaos in your head. You don’t understand them at first, but then the voice becomes clearer.

“Breathe for me, Y/N. He-He-Hoo, or whatever.”

You blink, dazed, as you look up to find Heeseung crouched in front of you. His Bambi-like eyes soften as he rubs soothing circles into your arms. “That’s it,” he murmurs. “Just keep breathing.” The world slowly steadies and your vision clears enough to focus on him. “Keep doing that for me, okay?”

Tears well in your eyes, the lingering pressure of it all threatening to drown you. Heeseung notices. He always does somehow. “Hey, look at me, Y/N. Tell me about that band you used to love back in the day.” His voice is gentle, coaxing you away from the edge - it’s a contrast to how he acted a mere few minutes ago in the room. “The one Jaeyun was always jealous of because you had that rapper as your lock screen?”

A small, watery laugh escapes you. “Monsta X?”

His lips twitch into a grin. “Yeah, them. They still together?”

You nod, sniffing as you wipe at your face. “Yeah, some are still in the military though.” Your voice is quieter now, calmer as you focus on something other than the hell surrounding you. 

“Sucks, doesn’t it? I felt the same about ONF.” He chuckles, and somehow, you do too - though it’s accompanied by a sharp, aching sob.

“I didn’t mean to come here, Hee,” you confess, voice cracking. “Her sister is my best friend.”

His expression shifts, a flicker of understanding crossing his face before he removes his jacket, placing it over your shivering shoulders. “Y/N,” he sighs, knowing that his next words will tear you open and leave you bleeding on the cobbles, “you can’t be here. He finally moved on.” His voice is heavy with meaning, with quiet pleading. As much as he is angry at you, he still harbours a fondness for you from all those years ago. 

“He’s happy.”

A lump forms in your throat because every piece of your heart has just fallen from you, mushed together, and formed a suffocating clog that you can’t dislodge. So instead of words, you nod and pretend to accept it. What else can you do? You know he’s right, Jaeyun is happy, if he wasn’t happy, he wouldn’t be set to marry Yeoreum on Saturday. He moved on.

“Heeseung?”

Jaeyun’s voice strikes you like lightning. Your body tenses, the warmth of Heeseung’s jacket no longer providing a comforting warmth as chills creep up your spine.

“Can I talk to her?”

Heeseung sighs, standing to face his best friend. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, man.”

They speak like you’re not even here, like this doesn’t involve you at all. But you can’t bring yourself to interrupt. The tension thickens between them, and for a moment, you think Jaeyun might argue. He’s always been stubborn when it comes to you.

But tonight, at least, he listens. 

His gaze lingers on you - just for a second - before he turns back inside. You watch as he disappears into the crowd, as if this moment between you had never happened at all. And it kills you.

Because for the first time in four years, you saw the love still lingering in his eyes.

And for the first time in four years, you knew it didn’t belong to you anymore.

The party continues without you. The laughter, the speeches, the celebration - it all blurs into background noise as you make your way to the guest bedroom, brushing off questions with a simple, “I’m just tired from travelling.”

But the truth is, the real exhaustion isn’t from the journey.

It’s from loving him.

And knowing you can never have him back.

________

The house is silent now. That heavy silence that comes after a long night of music, laughter, and regret. You wake up abruptly, your throat gasping for a drink and your lips dry because even in sleep, your body has been fighting against itself. You can’t remember your dream - or nightmare - but your body feels heavy enough for you to work out that it involved a certain someone.

For a moment, you think the past couple of hours have been a delusion, you forget where you are as you glance around the spacious room. The unfamiliar plushness of the mattress beneath you, the gentle sway of the curtains in the night breeze, the faint scent of Eunseo’s lingering perfume in the air - it takes a second too long to piece it together. The guest room. The party. Him.

It wasn’t just a dream, unfortunately. 

A dull ache pulses behind your ribcage, a reminder of the past few hours, of the words left unspoken and the memories that had clawed their way back to the surface. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the thoughts away, but it’s useless. Heeseung’s voice echoes, Jaeyun’s eyes blaze into yours - the weight of it all clings to you like damp clothes.

You sigh, shifting onto your side, trying to force yourself back into sleep but the dryness in your throat is unbearable now, no amount of conjured-up saliva doing the the trick. You need water…and a gun at this point.

Slipping out of bed, your feet meet the cool hardwood, a biting contrast to the warmth of the thick duvet. The house feels different now - no longer alive with conversation and celebration, but resting, like a small village unfearing of a giant. The floorboards don’t creak under your careful steps, but the occasional rustle of your own movements sounds far too loud. Everything sounds louder when it’s quiet.

The hallway is dimly lit by the moon, the only illumination coming from the large windows at the end of the corridor. Shadows stretch long across the walls, elongating the picture frames that hold memories of a family that isn’t yours. You see Yeoreum, Eusneo, and their parents in different life scenarios - ones you can’t relate back to your own family. They’re so far removed from you in every way. 

As you pass by the slightly ajar door of the bedroom, you hesitate. For no real reason, no real thought, just a flicker of something deep in your chest. You know this is Jaeyun and Yeoreum’s room, you heard them retreat into it after a long night of smiles and congratulations. 

You move past it quickly, refusing to let your brain make the decision to barge in and confess your love for the engaged boy and kidnap him back to your boring, mundane life. Honestly, you didn’t think you had a simpleton life but after speaking with the Son family and seeing the extravagant guests tell their stories about weekends to the Maldives and owning football clubs, you realise very quickly that you’re just…normal.

Maybe that’s why fate put Jaeyun into Yeoreum’s arms. Because she is far from normal.

The stairs are bare now as you take them slowly, gripping the polished wooden bannister to alleviate some of the pressure from your feet. Each step is measured to not cause loud creeks. The house is old, and though elegant, it has its age showcased in the wood.

When you reach the bottom, the remnants of the night come into full view. Empty wine glasses left abandoned on tables, a few smudged lipstick stains marking their rims. The long banquet table by the staircase is littered with stray napkins and a couple of shattered glasses, carefully lined up as if waiting to be dealt with in the morning.

It must have been a wonderful night for them. And if things were different, you might have enjoyed it too.

Your fingers tighten slightly around the fabric of your sleeve as your eyes drift toward the kitchen. A leak of light bleeds from the space, a soft glow pooling onto the fancy marble floors. Probably an under-cabinet light left on, a small remaining spark of the party’s electricity. You step forward, your feet scuffing lightly against the cold tiles, but the moment you enter the threshold, you stop short.

A broad back stands in front of the sink, shoulders slightly hunched, head tilted downward. The navy and yellow plaid pyjama bottoms he’s wearing are loose around his hips, contrasting the casual black T-shirt that clings to his form. They don’t match - not in style, not in intent - just something he must’ve grabbed without thinking before bed.

A creak sounds beneath you, alerting them to your presence. The figure stiffens before slowly turning around.

Jaeyun.

His face is softened by the haze of sleep, one eye still half-shut, the other squinting slightly as if trying to determine whether you’re real or just some cruel trick of his half-awake mind. His dark hair is tousled, flattened in places but still holding onto the remnants of styling wax from earlier. There’s something achingly familiar about him like this - undone, caught in a moment where he’s just Jaeyun. Just yours.

Except, he isn’t.

The air shifts between you, thick with words neither of you can say. His gaze never wavers, locked onto you with an intensity that tightens your chest.

“Hi,” you whisper, breaking the stillness as you step past him toward the fridge. 

It’s safer this way. To act like this is nothing. Like his presence doesn’t send electricity skittering all over your body. Like Heeseung wasn’t right when he warned you that this conversation - any conversation - was a bad idea. Because Jaeyun was never the kind to yell, never the kind to explode in anger. That wasn’t his way.

No. His love was always the dangerous part.

“It’s late,” he murmurs still hoarse with sleep. It reminds you of early morning rises for school where he kept you in his arms for just ‘5 more minutes’. 

“Or early.” You shrug, focusing on pouring yourself a glass of filtered water. “I guess it depends on whether you went to sleep or not.”

Your attempt at small talk feels flimsy and hollow, but it’s all you have. Anything else would break the fragile thread keeping you tethered to reason. You know it will be far too easy to just fall back into his arms. You saw how quickly he went to being your teenage love in that room.

When he held your face in your hands, he looked like he would still give you the entire world, still move mountains to make everything simple for you, and still love you despite your betrayal. It’s better to just…pretend.

Jaeyun watches you, unmoving as he memorises the way your fingers curl around the glass, the way the light catches on your cheekbone, the way your shoulders rise and fall with the shallow gulps.

For him, this moment feels unreal. You - standing here in this kitchen, looking like you belong, like no time has passed, like his world hadn’t crumbled all those years ago. It’s a cruel illusion, a cosmic joke. Because as much as you haunt him, he has never felt more at home than he does right now.

Just you. Just here.

“When did you get engaged?”

The question lands between you like a strike to his chest, knocking the breath from his lungs. It forces him back into reality. 

With his head hanging low, Jaeyun traces the rim of his coffee mug with his middle finger, the slow, absent-minded motion showing his hesitation. He exhales sharply, the weight of his own words is too heavy to bear.

“A few months ago.” His voice is quiet, not wanting to admit his new relationship out loud. 

He feels like he’s cheating on you. When you left, he didn’t get closure. All he got was a ripped-open heart and no materials to heal it, wounds left open for the world to hack away at. When he started dating Yeoreum, she patched some of those holes but just your presence in this house has opened it all back up again.

His heart bleeding for you.

You nod, lips pressing together as you grip the cool glass of water in your hands. There’s a tremor in your fingers, but you ignore it. You have no right to feel this way, no right to let your heart ache at the revelation. He’s engaged. You knew this. And yet, hearing him say it makes it all the more real. 

Jaeyun shifts slightly in his seat, his knuckles tightening around the ceramic mug before he exhales again. “What about you?” He hesitates, scared of the answer. “You seeing anyone?”

“No.”

It’s sharp, clipped, too direct to be casual. You don’t want to elaborate, don’t want to give away the truth - that there hasn’t been anyone, that no one else has ever felt right. That even after four years, even after all this time, he is still the measure against which all others have failed.

Jaeyun sucks in a breath, his Adam’s apple bobbing as if he wants to say something. Tell you he’s relieved? That it makes him happy you’re not with someone. That’s too cruel considering he’s the one promised to another. 

In his hesitation, you find your own voice instead. “Eunseo…she’s my best friend,” you offer, the words tumbling out like an explanation, almost an apology. “I didn’t know it was you getting married to Yeoreum. I promise. I’m not…I don’t want…”

You will him to look at you, to see the sincerity in your eyes as your words fail you. But he doesn’t. He just nods, slow and mechanical. 

“I’ll make up an excuse to get out of here before the wedding.”

At that, his fingers still. The room, once thick with words made of small talk and tip-toeing around the main issue, suddenly feels suffocating. And then, his voice sparks up, soft but laced with something raw, something close to heartbreak.

“Why did you leave, Y/N?”

The question freezes you in place.

“Tell me why,” he continues, breaking at the edges. “Because for four fucking years, I still haven’t been able to figure it out.”

Your lips part, but no words come out. You don’t even know where to begin. How do you begin? You couldn’t tell him when you needed to most, so how could you now? 

Instead, you bite down on your bottom lip, forcing yourself to steady the tremble in your breath. Suddenly, the thought of him looking at you is unbearable. But of course, now - now of all times - his eyes are locked onto you, unwavering.

“You owe me that much.”

Your fingers tighten around the edge of the counter as you grip it, focusing on the feel of it as your mind twists and turns. The glass of water is forgotten as you force yourself to speak.

“I…” The word barely makes it out, caught in the tightness of your throat. “I just left.”

“Bullshit, Y/N.” Jaeyun’s voice is sharper now, frustration creeping in. He shakes his head, his jaw clenching as he leans forward. “You don’t just leave. You don’t just disappear without a word, without a fucking explanation to the people you love.” His hands press against the counter, knuckles paling as they mirror your terrified ones. “I waited. I called, I texted - I even went searching. I thought something happened to you at first.”

His voice dips lower, quieter, but it doesn’t soften the way it cuts through you. “I thought you were hurt. I thought you were dead because that was the only way my mind could comprehend you leaving me. Leaving us”

Your breath catches.

“Then your mum showed me that letter and I…I still can’t wrap my head around it Y/N. We were so fucking happy. Then poof! You’re gone without another word. I have lived four years of my life worrying about you, wishing that you would call. I haven’t even changed my number just in case you finally decided to reach out and we could be us again.”

The hurt in his words fill you with dread. You hadn’t thought about how it must have taken it’s toll at first, but you didn’t really think about how it would still effect him, not in the way he must have lived through it. The sleepless nights. The unanswered questions. The fear.

You feel like a fucking idiot. A selfish one at that. 

 “I didn’t get into any colleges that I applied for. None near Busan.” Saying it to him, admitting it after all this time feels…less significant than it did when you were eighteen. 

Jaeyun’s brows knit together, confusion crossing his face. “What do you mean? I thought you only applied to schools near Apollo. We had planned-”

“My grades weren’t good enough to get into any colleges in Busan.” There’s venom in your tone, but it isn’t directed at him - it’s at yourself.

You inhale sharply, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “If I had told you I wasn’t going with you, I was scared you’d give up your dream school. That you’d just - fuck it all off to be with me.” Your voice wavers, but you push through. “And you would have, Jaeyun. You would have thrown everything away if I asked. I couldn’t do that to you. I would’ve lived with the guilt every day, watching you settle for something less than what you deserved. I loved you, Jaeyun - I couldn’t do that to you.”

Jaeyun flinches at the past tense in your confession. 

But he doesn’t linger on it. Instead, he rewinds, his mind struggling to make sense of it all. “So you left our relationship because…it would be long distance?”

You swallow hard. “Jaeyun, it wasn’t just that. I thought about it, I did. But I knew you would grow at college without me. And I kept thinking about what you said…”

His expression shifts slightly, confusion washing over his features. “What I said?”

You nod, blinking against the stinging in your eyes. “About how people grow apart when they’re in different places. How they slowly break away from each other because they become different people.” You laugh, but it’s hollow, tinged with pain. “You said ‘I can’t do long distance’ and it got in my head. I couldn’t bear to slowly lose you. So I-”

“So you thought leaving me without a word was the right way to go?” His voice cracks and the hurt is so evident; the way his eyes are shaking, his voicebox now with a slight trill, the ragged breath escaping from his chest.

Jaeyun stands up, pushing his chair back with a quiet scrape that sounds like a foghorn in the dead night. He crosses the small space between you, hesitant yet resolute. His hands flex at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to reach for you, to touch you. He made that mistake earlier, your soft skin leaving a lasting impression on the palms of his hands and tips of his fingers.

God, he missed how you feel.

“Y/N,” his voice is lower now, pushing his urges down. “We could have worked it out. We would have found a way.”

His hand moves before he can stop it, despite the screaming in his head to tell him to back off. His fingers brush against your cheek -  reverent, afraid you’ll recoil. But you don’t pull away and his heart skips. A single tear slips down your cheek, and his thumb twitches, resisting the urge to wipe it away, the act feeling too intimate. 

Shaking your head, you finally look up at him, eyes glazed in regret. “I was stupid,” you admit in a whisper. “I didn’t want you to worry about me. You already had so much going on - school, work, your whole future ahead of you.”

Jaeyun says nothing, just watches you with that same tragic expression.

You inhale shakily, willing your heart to stop pounding. “But look at you,” you say, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “You went to college. You grew up. You moved on. Look at what you have.” Your hands gesture weakly upstairs, to where Yeoreum sleeps peacefully, unaware of the storm brewing in the kitchen below.

Jaeyun doesn’t look toward where his bride-to-be sleeps.

He just looks at you. Always at you.

“We could have had this, Y/N.” His voice is meek but the meaning behind his words is heavy. “You could be the one I’m marrying - if you just let me take care of you like a partner is supposed to. If you trusted me enough.”

Your stomach knots, your fingers curling into your palms painfully. “I did trust you, Jaeyun.”

“Not enough.” Jaeyun exhales, frustration bleeding into his words. “Not enough to tell me what was going on when I gave you that ring.”

You look away because you know he’s right. You hate that he’s right. That night when he gave you that ring, that is when you should have confessed your plans and worries. It was cruel of you to promise him a happily ever after and then ditch him the next morning.

That is something you will never forgive yourself for.

“Y/N,” He huffs out loudly and drags a hand through his hair, his chest rising and falling with a deep breath. “That should have been your opening to talk to me about all this. I love you so much - I would have made long distance work.” His voice is edged with desperation, his dark eyes searching yours in the dim kitchen, waiting for something. Maybe a sign that you regret it, maybe a sign that you still love him the way he so clearly still loves you. “When I gave you that ring and made that promise to be yours forever, I wasn’t fucking around, okay? I meant it.”

You don’t realise you’re shaking your head until he lets out a dry laugh, reaching for your hands.

His fingers slide over your skin, warm and familiar, and you hate how easily you let him hold you. Hate how your body reacts to him before your mind can protest. This is a man who is getting married and yet your body thinks he still belongs to you.

“Baby,” he murmurs, voice softer now, raw. “I love you.”

Your breath stutters. Each time he says he loves you it’s in the now, not the past. Your thoughts twist and turn, reading between every line. It’s obvious his feelings are heightened with the shock of you, that’s why he’s acting this way…not because he actually means it.

Right?

“Jaeyun…” you whisper, but there’s nothing else you can say.

The kitchen hums with an unbearable silence, save for the soft buzzing of the refrigerator and the sound of your own pulse roaring in your ears. Jaeyun notices the way your gaze flickers down to his lips, sees the way your breath shudders as he licks them wet.

He leans in, just enough that his breath fans against yours.

If he kisses you, if you let him - there will be no going back. You’ll melt into him, you mere ice and him the burning sunlight. 

His forehead almost brushes yours, your hands still locked together, his fingers tightening like he’s afraid you’ll slip away again. He doesn’t want you to leave him. Not again.

Your heart lurches. This is wrong. You know it is. Yet, that gravitational pull brings your lips impossibly close to his.

And then - footsteps. Loud and unexpected, echoing into the suffocating quiet.

Your body reacts before your mind catches up. You push Jaeyun away, stumbling back a step just as another presence enters the kitchen.

Jaeyun barely moves. Even with the interruption, his gaze doesn’t leave yours. Your eyes are glassy, tears threatening to spill, and his lips part like he wants to say something - to call you back to him, to fix this. 

But he doesn’t get the chance.

“Baby,” he whispers, just loud enough for you to hear.

You shake your head, barely able to breathe. Without another word, you turn on your heel, shouldering past him and heading back to the guest room.

“Y/N?” His tone is defeated, lacking hope.

Your feet falter for the briefest moment, but you don’t turn around. You’ve made a lot of mistakes when it comes to Jaeyun - you can’t make this one.

Jaeyun begins to move, following you, reckless abandonment overtaking his better judgment, but an arm shoots out, gripping his shoulder and halting him in place.

Jaeyun looks up, breathless, still reeling from everything that just happened.

Heeseung, his best friend, stands there with an expression that immediately sends a wave of nausea through Jaeyun’s stomach. Heeseung’s grip is firm. Unrelenting. He didn’t need to be present for the conversation to know what transpired. He can feel the electric charge that still lingers in the room. He can see the heartbreaking gaze in his friend’s iris’. He can feel love bouncing off the tiles.

“Jake,” he murmurs, warning him. “Don’t.”

“Heeseung-”

“No.” Heeseung shakes his head, his hand tightening briefly before he lets go. “Not tonight.”

Jaeyun’s jaw clenches. “You don’t get it.”

Heeseung’s eyes flicker toward the doorway where you just disappeared, then back to Jaeyun, something knowing and sad in them.

“I do,” he says. “That’s the problem.”

Heeseung knows better than anyone the connection you both have. It’s all consuming and the kind people go to war for. That kind of love is dangerous, especially in this environment.

Jaeyun sucks in a breath, his fingers tugging at his already-messy hair. His body is still warm from where you touched him, from where he held you, and he hates how much he still feels you even when you’re no longer in the room.

Heeseung watches him carefully before sighing, rubbing a hand over his face.

“She’s here because of Eunseo,” Heeseung says. “Not you. Not…this.” He gestures vaguely between Jaeyun and the empty space where you stood just moments ago. “She’s not part of your life anymore, Jake. She hasn’t been for a long time.”

Jaeyun looks away, swallowing the lump in his throat. “You think I don’t know that?”

Heeseung doesn’t answer.

For a long moment, neither of them say anything. The moment envelopes them thick in the air. How the fuck did all of you end up in this situation? 

Then, Heeseung sighs again, softer this time. “Come on,” he says, voice gentler. “You should get some sleep. Back to your fiance.” His eyes are stern albeit understanding.

Jaeyun lets out a humourless chuckle at the not-so-subtle reminder. “Yeah. Sure.”

Despite his need to see you, to keep talking this out with you - to kiss you - he retreats, ready to fall back into bed. But sleep is the last thing he’s going to get tonight.

---

taglist: @yzzyhee @dollyyun @sunpov @dreamy-carat

@ioveseong @katarinamae @viagumi @jakeswifez

@shuichi-sama @m1kkso @no1likeneo @pshfan0812

@fancypeacepersona @hoonieyun @jaepen @lovingvoidgoatee

@parksunghoonsgf @capri-cuntz @yvnempire @mei3425

@enhastolemyheart @ikeulove @riribelle @nshmrarki

@firstclassjaylee @ikeuwoniee @ang0308 @jaykesgirl @addictedtohobi

@jayeoniee @jakessrealwife @zyvlxqht

[wonnienyang]

CUMMING OF AGE

bsfs brother!Heeseung x f!reader - when you ask him to teach you how to masturbate. (pure porn with plot. MDNI 18+, explicit, masturbation, cunnilingus, phone sex, ANGST, fluff too so its fine.) “If she’s not cumming, she’s not listening to her pussy.” “And if she won’t listen…” “I’ll make her.”

You’ve always had a hate-hate relationship with masturbation.

Not the “haha I don’t know what I’m doing” kind. Not the shy, innocent kind. The kind where you tried, over and over again, and every time it ended in that same aching, pathetic way—panties soaked, fingers numb, pussy throbbing, and absolutely nothing to show for it.

No finish. No orgasm. Not even a fucking twitch of satisfaction.

You rubbed and rubbed, like everyone said to. You found your clit. You circled it. Pressed it. Flicked it. Tried soft and slow, then fast and desperate. Tried with spit, with lotion, with fucking coconut oil once. But nothing ever felt right. Just this frustrating hum of almost. Like your body was teetering on the edge of something big and just… refused to jump.

You’d end up sore. Agitated. Your legs would shake, but not the good kind. Your pussy would swell, throbbing like she was mocking you for trying.

It made you feel broken. Or worse—boring. Like your body was wired wrong. Like you’d missed the most basic feminine skill everyone else seemed to be born with.

Girls talked about cumming like it was breathing. Like they could do it in five minutes flat with one hand and a good imagination. You’d hear them talk about shaking through the sheets, arching off the bed, seeing stars—and you’d smile and nod and laugh along, pretending like you got it, like you knew what it was like to get wrecked by your own hand.

You’d never even come close.

You tried toys. You bought a vibrator and nearly cried when it did nothing but make your arms go numb. You tried grinding on pillows until the friction made you raw. You tried porn. You even tried watching yourself once in the mirror like some kind of twisted self-help therapy. Nothing worked.

You’d touch and touch and chase and beg for it in your head—please, just this once, just let me finish, please—and still end up breathless, sticky, empty.

You’d cry sometimes. Just a little. From the frustration of it. From the absolute humiliation of being so fucking horny and not being able to do anything about it.

You hated that about yourself. Hated the way your body seemed to enjoy the build and not the release. Hated the way your clit would throb for attention and then get overwhelmed the second you gave her any. Hated the need. The noise. The mess with no reward.

But the worst part—the actual worst part—was how much you still wanted it. How much you still tried. Like a dog chasing its own tail. Like some needy little loser who couldn’t leave it alone.

You were eighteen, for fuck’s sake. You were supposed to know your body by now. You were supposed to be able to make yourself cum. You were supposed to own your pleasure.

Instead, you were stuck with a pussy that got wet at the idea of being touched and then shut down the second you did.

It made you feel fucking insane.

So you gave up. Mostly. You still touched yourself when you needed to—when it built up too much and made your thighs ache. But it wasn’t about cumming anymore. It was maintenance. A reset button. A pressure valve. You did it in the dark, quietly, quickly, just to shut your body up.

You didn’t even think about pleasure anymore.

You didn’t dare.

-

Evie—Heejoo, but you only ever called her that when you wanted to piss her off—was your best friend in the world. Ride-or-die since ninth grade, bonded over a shared hatred of your chem teacher and the fact that neither of you fit into your school’s carefully manicured social circles.

Where you were sharp and quick with your mouth, she was soft-spoken and wide-eyed, just sweet enough to disarm anyone who got too close. You balanced each other out. She calmed your storm. You stirred hers.

You were over at her house so often it barely felt like visiting anymore. You knew the code to their garage door. You had your own toothbrush in her bathroom. Her mom kept your favorite cereal in the pantry like clockwork. You even had a drawer in her room, mostly old hoodies and stolen pajama shorts that smelled like her perfume.

It wasn’t unusual for you to spend the weekend there, or three nights in a row, or an entire spring break. Her parents didn’t mind. They liked knowing where you both were—liked having an extra body in the house, even if they never said it out loud.

And then there was Heeseung.

Her older brother. Four years up. Barely a presence.

When you were younger, he was just the older guy who sulked in his room and stole her chargers. Sometimes he’d give you a ride when Evie asked, sometimes he’d walk past you in the kitchen and grunt a greeting, but that was about it. He was there, and then he wasn’t—off to college, off to god knows where, vanishing from your life as quickly as he’d drifted through it.

You had a tiny crush on him once, freshman year. The kind that sparked quick and stupid, fed by his lazy smirk and the way he wore his backwards cap while fixing his car in the driveway. It died fast—suffocated by time and distance and his complete disinterest in acknowledging your existence beyond a nod or a side-eye.

By the time he moved back home post-grad, you barely noticed. He was older now, busier, always in his room with the door closed, voice low behind it, like he was on constant phone calls or late-night games or… something.

You didn’t think about him much. He was just Evie’s brother. Part of the background. White noise.

Your focus was always Evie.

She was the one who held your hair when you puked. The one who lent you a dress before every shitty date. The one who knocked on the bathroom door when you were taking too long and said, “You better not be edge-cumming again, bitch,” like it was the most normal sentence in the world.

She talked about sex like it was just part of the air. Blunt. Effortless. She could make herself cum in three minutes flat. She said it with confidence, like breathing.

You hated how easily it came to her. You loved her anyway.

You always felt safe in her house. Safe in her bed, tangled up under a shared blanket, legs overlapping like twins born too far apart. Her room smelled like vanilla and lip gloss and safety. It felt like yours.

-

The house settled around you like it always did—quiet, gentle, familiar in a way that made your muscles loosen and your brain drift. Even the silence felt padded here. The hum of the fridge downstairs, the occasional pop of cooling pipes, the subtle click of the thermostat shifting—background noise you’d grown so used to, it almost felt like home.

Evie was out cold beside you, one arm thrown carelessly across your stomach, her breath hot against your ribs. She always slept fast after wine. She always slept on you, too—like her body never quite understood boundaries even after all these years. You didn’t mind. It was comforting, the weight of her. Like a grounding wire for the anxious, electric static building low in your belly.

Sleep wasn’t coming for you, though.

You’d been lying there in the dark for the better part of an hour, phone dimmed to nearly unreadable brightness, eyes burning from the glow. Nothing on your feed caught your attention. You’d scrolled past the same content three times already, thumb swiping out of pure muscle memory.

Something restless twisted beneath your skin, persistent and irritating. Not quite horniness, not quite insomnia—just that same pulsing tension that had been sitting heavy between your legs all night. Like your body was trying to tell you something without using words. You shifted under the blanket, trying not to disturb Evie, thighs pressing tighter together to relieve the dull ache. It only made it worse.

The urge to do something about it had been growing for hours.

You’d thought about sneaking off to the bathroom. You’d done it before—quiet, quick, businesslike. Just enough friction to take the edge off before falling asleep, still unsatisfied but too tired to care. The idea barely tempted you anymore. You already knew how it would end: the usual mess of spit-slick fingers, your clit swollen and sore, pussy wet and pulsing and still refusing to give you anything real.

Just the thought of trying again made you clench your jaw.

It was pathetic, the way your body teased you. Wet for no reason. Needy without payout. Over and over again, like clockwork. Like punishment.

You turned your phone off with a quiet sigh and let the screen go black.

For a moment, all you could hear was the creak of the floorboards expanding under the weight of a settling house. A branch tapping against the window. The subtle drag of Evie’s breathing. You stared at the ceiling, tired but tense, willing yourself to shut down the frustration building behind your ribs.

A man’s voice, deep and casual, barely audible through the cracked bedroom doors. Not enough to make out words. Not yet. Just the soft cadence of speech, rising and falling like a secret being shared too close to the edge of the world.

Heeseung’s door was open. Or cracked. Just enough to let a sliver of sound spill out. You hadn’t even realized he was home tonight.

Your body stilled, like it always did when you felt watched—except this time, you were the one doing the watching. Listening, technically. Just barely.

There was a pause, then a laugh. Not his. Another voice. Someone else. Male. Maybe one of his friends from school, the ones who came and went without warning. You couldn’t place the sound, and you didn’t care.

Your focus sharpened the second Heeseung spoke again.

“It’s not that hard. Girls make it harder than it is."

“If she’s not cumming, she’s not listening to her pussy.”

The sentence dropped like a stone in the middle of your chest.

Not whispered. Not dirty. Just… stated. Like a law. Like fact.

Your fingers flexed unconsciously against the blanket. Heat flushed your neck and settled low in your belly, familiar and unwelcome. You didn’t move. Couldn’t.

There was something about the way he said it. Not performative. Not like he was trying to sound cool. Just calm. Confident. Like the kind of guy who got women off without effort and never thought twice about why.

Every hair on your arm lifted. He didn’t stop there.

“And if she won’t listen…I’ll make her.”

No laughter followed that. No teasing. Just a quiet moment where it hung in the air, unchallenged.

You lay frozen in the dark, heart thudding, mouth slightly open. Your legs ached under the blanket, thighs tense and pressed together. You weren’t just turned on—you were caught. Cornered by something you weren’t supposed to hear and couldn’t let go of.

Something clicked. Not like a revelation, not some dramatic internal monologue, just… a shift. A tilt in the floor beneath your feet. A door opening in a room you didn’t realize you were trapped in.

You didn’t even know what you wanted in that moment.

But for the first time in your life, you wondered—really wondered—what your body would feel like under instructions that weren’t your own.

-

You tried not to think about it for the rest of the day. Swore you wouldn’t spiral.

You kept the overheard words tucked somewhere tight in your chest, smothered under fake laughter and half-listened stories while Evie walked you through her latest dating app disasters. You made it through brunch, through an entire Target run, through two face masks and one trashy Netflix documentary—and you almost convinced yourself you were over it.

But when the house quieted again that night—when Evie fell asleep curled up on the far side of the bed with her arm draped over a pillow instead of you—you gave in.

You waited a while. Just in case she wasn’t fully out. The kind of sleep that could crack open with the creak of floorboards.

And when her breathing evened out, soft and deep and oblivious, you slid out from under the blanket, grabbed your phone, and slipped into the hallway.

The bathroom door closed with a soft click behind you.

You didn’t turn the light on right away. Just stood there for a second in the dark, breathing.

The air was cooler here. The tiles cold against your feet. The smell of Evie’s shampoo still clung to the room—vanilla and something floral, sticky-sweet. You stared at your reflection in the mirror above the sink, barely visible in the silver sliver of hallway light. Your face looked flushed. Too open. Like something had already been peeled back.

You sat on the closed toilet lid, tugged your hoodie over your thighs, and pulled your phone into your lap.

No buildup. No browsing. You knew what you were looking for.

The video you always came back to. The closest thing you’d ever found to what worked. A deep voice. Slow instructions. Just audio—nothing to watch, nothing to focus on but sound.

It wasn’t him, but it didn’t have to be. Not yet.

Your underwear stuck to the heat between your thighs as you slid it down. Still wet from the tension that had been building since that morning. From the second you saw Heeseung in the kitchen and felt your legs press together automatically.

The wetness should’ve been a good sign.

But you already knew how this would go.

You played the video. Turned the volume down low. Closed your eyes.

Your fingers found your clit easily. Rubbed gentle circles, the way the voice said. You tried to breathe through it, tried to slow down, to listen.

There was too much pressure too soon. Your skin twitched with every touch. The angle was wrong. The rhythm never quite synced. Your body jerked between feeling almost there and feeling absolutely nothing.

You tried harder.

Tried picturing something—someone. His voice. His mouth. The way he looked at you this morning like you weren’t just Evie’s friend, like he saw something else.

That made your fingers move faster. Your hips twitch up from the seat, trying to find something—anything—that would tip you over.

But it never came.

Just heat. Just sweat. Just the same stinging tension in your thighs and the wave that built up, crested, and refused to break.

Your hand dropped. Your chest heaved with a breath that sounded too much like a sob.

You sat there for a full minute in silence, pussy swollen, twitching, soaking your hand—and still nothing. You hadn’t cum. Not even close.

Not even fucking close.

Your palm dragged across your inner thigh as you reached for toilet paper, the wet slick of your own arousal catching against your skin, obscene and bitter and useless. You wiped your hand clean, flushed, washed it under the tap in a daze.

Your reflection stared back at you in the mirror, flushed cheeks, wild eyes, bottom lip bitten raw.

This wasn’t working.

You couldn’t do this by yourself. Not anymore.

The shame didn’t even hit you until you opened the door, stepped back into the hall, and looked toward Heeseung’s room.

You didn’t remember walking from the bathroom to his door. Not really. Your body moved on instinct, fingers still damp with failure, breath shallow and uneven like you’d been running—not down a hallway, but in circles inside your own skin. Everything felt hot and wrong, like you were standing too close to something dangerous and still leaning closer.

The light from under his door was soft, pale blue. The kind of glow that came from a computer screen and sleepless hours. It made the hallway feel colder. Your skin felt clammy beneath your hoodie, thighs still tacky with your own arousal, pulse thudding hard behind your ears. You didn’t even try to calm yourself before raising your hand. There wasn’t enough time. There wasn’t enough anything left.

You knocked.

Soft, quick. Regretted it immediately.

Nothing.

The silence on the other side stretched just long enough to make you feel stupid. You should’ve gone back to Evie’s room. Should’ve locked the bathroom door and buried your face in your hands like you always did. Should’ve swallowed the shame and left it to rot where it always did: at the bottom of your throat.

Your hand was already dropping when the doorknob turned.

Heeseung opened the door halfway, leaning into the frame, and for a second you couldn’t speak. You weren’t expecting him to look like that—hoodie sleeves pushed up to his forearms, collar askew, hair a damp mess like he’d run his hands through it one too many times. His sweatshorts hung low on his hips, legs bare, skin flushed warm like he’d just come out of the shower… or just come. You had no way of knowing which. And it made your brain short-circuit either way.

He didn’t look surprised to see you. Just confused.

His eyes dragged down your body with a slow kind of calculation, and you swore you saw the moment they caught on the way your thighs were pressed together, your bare legs twitching under the hem of your hoodie. The way your breath hitched in your throat. The way your fingers—still wet, still trembling—curled tighter at your side.

He blinked once, brows pulling in slightly.

“You good?”

The question was simple, quiet. But it hit like an echo in a room with no furniture. You were not good. Not even close.

Your voice came out before you could soften it. Flat, direct. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

He blinked again. Caught off guard this time.

“…What?”

“I just need to know,” you said quickly, words tumbling over each other. “Before I say anything. It matters.”

He stared at you for a beat, mouth twitching like he wasn’t sure if he should be amused or suspicious.

“No. I don’t.”

You exhaled like someone had untied a knot inside your chest.

“Fuck.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “What?”

“If you said yes,” you muttered, eyes darting to the floor, “I would’ve had an excuse not to ask you.”

That made him pause.

He shifted his weight, crossed his arms over his chest, leaned into the doorframe like he was settling in. His voice was a little lower when he asked, “Ask me what?”

Your whole body burned. There was no easy way to say it. No casual phrasing. No safe distance between you and the truth anymore. You didn’t have the energy to dance around it.

“You said something last night,” you started, forcing yourself to look at him. “About girls who can’t finish. About how they’re not listening to their bodies.”

He watched you carefully. No expression, just the slow, measured study of a man waiting for the rest.

“I heard it,” you added. “By accident. But it’s been stuck in my head. And I thought—I don’t know, I thought maybe you were right.”

Still nothing. Just his gaze crawling over your face, down to your knees, like he was trying to see where this was going before letting himself speak.

You swallowed, the taste of failure still thick in your throat. “I tried again tonight. Bathroom. Just now. I’ve been trying for years, and it’s always the same. Nothing works. I can’t finish. I touch myself, and it just—goes nowhere.”

Your cheeks burned. You didn’t even know why you were telling him all this. You barely knew the guy. The last time you’d had a real conversation was probably three birthdays ago when he offered you a ride and you said no because he smelled like weed and fuckboy cologne.

But here you were. Standing in front of him like some half-dressed, sweat-slick confession, spilling everything.

And he still hadn’t said a word.

Your next breath shook as it left you.

“I don’t want you to touch me,” you said, quieter now. “I just want to ask… if you’d tell me what to do.”

That got something out of him. A small breath through his nose, not quite a laugh, not quite disbelief. His eyes dropped—lower this time—to your legs again, to the edge of your hoodie, to the bare skin flushed and prickling under the hallway air.

He nodded once toward you, chin tilting. “Your hand’s still wet.”

You froze.

His voice was low, unreadable. “You tried that hard, huh?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

He stepped back.

Just a few inches. Just enough to open the door wider. The light from inside poured out around him, cool and soft and full of static.

He held your gaze.

 “Come in. Close the door behind you.”

The door shuts with a soft click behind you, and just like that, the house disappears. Evie’s room, the hallway, your entire carefully contained world—it all drops away. There’s only the low glow of his monitor casting pale blue light across the carpet and the quiet hum of something electric in the corner, like the room itself is holding its breath.

You hover near the door for a second, not sure what to do with your hands, your legs, your shame.

Heeseung’s already sitting, legs wide in his desk chair, turned toward you like he was waiting the whole night for this. He shifts, pushes himself up slightly, and drags the chair forward—lazily, unbothered—until it sits right in front of the bed. Close enough that if you spread your legs, he’d have a front-row seat.

Then he flips the chair around, straddling it backwards like some cocky delinquent in detention, arms crossed over the backrest, chin resting casually on top. His expression doesn’t change. He just watches you.

“Go ahead,” he says, voice calm and low, like this is just another Tuesday night. “Sit.”

You make your way to the bed, legs tense, breath shallow, and perch at the edge like it might bite. Your thighs clench on instinct, hoodie pulled low, trying to shield what you already know he’s seen. You’re still warm from the bathroom. Still soaked. Still aching.

His eyes drift down. Slow. Lazy. No shame.

You fidget.

Heeseung doesn’t move. “Don’t get shy on me now. You came in here asking for a masturbation lesson, not a bedtime story.”

Your lips twitch. You almost laugh. Almost.

He lifts his chin. “Tell me what you usually do.”

The question lands harder than it should. Not because it’s dirty, but because it’s so simple.

You blink. “Like… where I touch?”

“Yeah.”

You hesitate. “I usually just go straight to my clit.”

“Figures.” He doesn’t miss a beat. “And then what? Rub the fuck out of it ‘til it gets sore and wonder why it doesn’t work?”

Your mouth falls open in a small gasp. “Excuse me?”

He shrugs one shoulder, unbothered. “Don’t take it personal. That’s what most girls do. It’s not your fault you think the goal is speed over sense.”

You don’t respond, but your silence is answer enough.

He leans in a little, forearms resting on the chair back, gaze glued to your bare thighs. There’s no hunger in it—not yet. Just observation. Like he’s assessing you.

“If your pussy had a voice,” he says smoothly, “she’d be screaming at you to chill the fuck out.”

You’re quiet for a long second. Because the worst part is… he’s not wrong.

He watches you squirm, and something like amusement passes over his features. Not cruel, but smug.

“Take your time,” he says, gentler now. “You rush her, she locks up. Doesn’t matter how wet you are.”

“…She?” you murmur, lifting a brow.

Heeseung shrugs again, like it’s obvious. “Yeah. She.” His eyes flick to yours. “You don’t gotta name her or write poetry about her, but you should probably stop treating her like a vending machine.”

Your laugh breaks before you can stop it. Quick and sharp, nerves bleeding out of your throat. “You’re so annoying.”

“And yet, you’re still here,” he says with a smirk, eyes dark. “Go on. Show me how you start.”

Everything tightens. You feel the weight of his voice low in your belly.

You don’t move right away.

He raises a brow. “You said you didn’t want me to touch you. That’s cool. But I need to see what you’re doing wrong.”

Your breath hitches.

Your hand moves on instinct—slow, shaky—and dips beneath the hem of your hoodie, then under the band of your panties. You’re already wet. Embarrassingly wet. And when your fingers graze over your clit, you flinch. It’s too sensitive. Too much. Your hips jerk a little, and you pretend not to notice the way his eyes follow the motion.

You rub. Once. Twice. It’s not bad. It’s what you always do.

But still—nothing clicks.

Heeseung tilts his head. “You’re too stiff.”

“I’m nervous,” you admit quietly.

“Don’t be.” His voice drops half an octave. “You look hot.”

The way he says it—it doesn’t sound like a compliment. Just a fact. Like he’s telling you what time it is. Like your soaked fingers and clenched thighs are something he’s been picturing all night.

“You’re thinking too much,” he adds. “Trying to force it instead of feel it.”

Your hand stills.

He leans forward slightly, his voice quieter now, more intimate. “Try this. Press your hand flat. Just hold her. No rubbing. No tapping. Just… feel her.”

You hesitate, then obey.

The flat of your hand settles between your legs, heat blooming up your arm from the contact. Your whole body clenches around it.

“Feel that?”

You nod. Barely.

“That’s what she likes,” he murmurs. “You’ve been poking at her like she’s a fucking keyboard. No wonder she’s not putting out.”

You let out a breathy laugh—half scandalized, half aroused. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re soaking through your panties,” he says, deadpan.

Your breath catches. Heeseung doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t look away.

He sits there like he’s got all the time in the world. Like he’s doing you a favor. Like he’s enjoying this. You’re not even sure he’s hard yet—but he will be. You can feel it building. Between you. In you.

He lets the moment hang.

Then: “Now—slow circles. Don’t speed up unless she tells you to.”

“She doesn’t talk,” you whisper, teasing without confidence.

His gaze is heavy. Steady.

“She does,” he says, voice like heat sliding under your skin. “You just haven’t been listening.”

The room feels hotter now.

Not just the air—your skin, your mouth, your thighs. Sweat clings to the backs of your knees, damp beneath the bunched-up hoodie, and your panties are so wet they’re practically glued to one thigh. Your hips keep twitching without your permission, rolling up slightly with every pass of your fingers. It’s not graceful. It’s not some porn fantasy. It’s messy and uneven and real, and Heeseung is watching every second of it like it’s the only thing worth watching.

You keep thinking you should feel embarrassed. Ashamed. You’re spread open on his bed, hand stuffed between your legs, whining softly every time you stroke a little too hard and have to ease back again—but you’re too far gone now to stop. Your cheeks are flushed, lashes wet, lips parted, and you can’t look away from him.

He hasn’t blinked once.

Heeseung is still straddling the backward chair, elbows resting on the top, chin on one hand like this is casual. Normal. Like you’re just some half-naked girl jerking off in front of him for practice and he’s your substitute teacher for the night.

The only thing that’s changed is his posture.

His knees are spread wider than before. His forearms are tense. One hand grips the edge of the chair a little tighter every time your body jerks, and you don’t miss the way his jaw flexes every time your breath stutters or your voice cracks.

You’re doing this to him.

But not enough.

Not enough to make it stop hurting. Not enough to make the ache go away. Not enough to finish.

You’re trying. God, you’re trying.

Your fingers rub in slow circles, not too fast now. You’re listening. You are. But your body keeps tensing at the edge, like it’s scared to fall off the cliff it’s been building for years. Your hand’s cramping. Your clit throbs. Your stomach clenches like you’re close—and then it dips, again and again.

It’s good. So good.

But it’s not enough.

You choke on a frustrated sound, somewhere between a sob and a moan, and your free hand fists the blanket beneath you like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

Heeseung speaks, finally, voice low and steady. “Still rushing her.”

“I’m not,” you whisper.

“You are. I can see it.”

You shake your head, breath stuttering. “I’m not trying to—I swear, I’m—” You gasp. “It’s just—it’s not—”

You stop. Words catch in your throat. Your hips are rocking now, involuntarily, chasing a sensation that keeps pulling away the second you get close. Your fingers are wet, your pussy’s pulsing, and it still feels like you’re just rubbing up against a wall.

“It’s not enough,” you breathe out, broken. “I—I can’t—fuck—she’s not listening.”

Heeseung leans forward slightly, something sharp flashing in his eyes.

“Oh, she’s listening,” he says. “You’re just not talking to her the right way.”

You whimper. “Then tell me what to say.”

That makes his mouth twitch—just barely. Like he’s been waiting for that.

“Tell me what she’s feeling first.”

“I—” Your voice cracks. “She’s tight. Warm. I feel her—pulsing. Like she wants something but—she’s not opening.”

He tilts his head slightly, gaze dark. “She wants to be filled.”

You nod.

“No,” he says. “Say it.”

Your chest heaves. Your hand hasn’t stopped moving, rubbing slow, desperate circles around your clit. “She wants to be filled.”

“Say it like you mean it.”

“She wants to be fucking filled,” you whine. “She’s throbbing—she’s soaking—fuck, I can feel her squeezing nothing.”

Heeseung exhales slowly, eyes flicking down between your legs again.

“There you go,” he murmurs. “Now she’s talking.”

Your fingers glide lower, catching more slick and sliding back up. Everything’s soaked. You’re dripping down onto the sheets, and your thighs are trembling from the strain of keeping your hips lifted just right.

“She needs more,” you pant. “She’s clenching—she’s starving—”

Heeseung’s hand flexes around the edge of the chair again. His voice drops, almost to a growl. “So feed her.”

You moan—high and breathy—and press harder, circling your clit faster now, the way your body wants. Your lips are wet, your fingers slipping, but it doesn’t matter. Everything is slick and hot and alive.

“You’re soaked,” he mutters, eyes burning into you. “Look at your fucking fingers.”

You do. It’s obscene. Your hand shines in the light, your fingers coated in slick. You barely recognize your own body like this. Ruined. Responsive.

“She’s begging,” he says softly. “And you’re finally listening.”

You whine, eyes squeezing shut. Your free hand presses against your lower belly, trying to hold the heat in. Your pussy twitches at the pressure.

“She’s so fucking greedy,” you gasp. “She won’t stop pulling—I can’t—I can’t keep up—”

“You don’t have to,” he says. “She knows what she’s doing. Let her take it.”

You don’t even realize how loud you’ve gotten until you hear yourself moan again—shameless, cracked open, shaking from the inside out.

Your legs spread wider. You’re not trying to hide anymore. Not from him. Not from yourself.

You’re right there.

You’re going to break.

He’s just watching. Like it’s his favorite thing he’s ever seen.

You’re right on the edge, and this time it’s not teasing.

It’s sharp. Fast. Inevitable.

Your legs are trembling now, hips jerking with every motion, and your fingers are soaked—slipping against your clit, coating your inner thighs, dripping down the crease of your ass like your body’s trying to fuck itself open. Every stroke sends another wave of tension through you, and there’s no holding it anymore. Your body is begging. Your pussy’s leaking, twitching, clenching around nothing—and Heeseung watches like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You don’t even realize you’re moaning until you hear it echo back at you in the small room. High-pitched. Desperate. Wet.

The sound of your pussy is louder now too. Sticky and obscene, each rub slicker than the last. You can hear it every time you roll your hips into your palm.

Heeseung doesn’t say a word for a second too long.

You lift your head, eyes glazed over, panting.

His eyes are darker now. Half-lidded. Focused on your pussy like he’s reading it better than your face.

He shifts in his chair. Spreads his knees wider. His hand dips into the front of his sweatshorts, slow and casual, like he can’t ignore it anymore. You catch a glimpse of his fingers wrapping around himself—and your breath catches so hard your vision blurs.

He’s so hard.

His voice comes out deeper. Filthy. Measured like it’s the only thing anchoring him in the room.

“Look at that messy little cunt.”

Your body jerks at the word. You’ve never heard it said like that. Never felt it hit like that.

Heeseung strokes himself once, slow and firm under the fabric.

“She’s drooling all over your fingers. So fucking hungry. Bet she’s never been this loud for you before.”

“She hasn’t,” you breathe. “She never—she never—”

“You’ve been starving her,” he says, still jerking himself lazily. “Touching her like she’s a problem instead of a fucking meal.”

Your hand speeds up, and he sees it. Hears the slap of slick. You’re humping into your fingers now, sloppy and desperate and so close you could scream.

Heeseung leans forward, one elbow braced against the back of the chair.

“You wanna cum, baby?”

You nod frantically, but it’s not enough.

“Use your words.”

Your voice comes out cracked. “Yes. Please—I wanna cum—I need it—”

“Need what?” he pushes.

“I need her to fucking break,” you sob. “She’s clenching—she’s begging—she needs to cum, she needs it—”

“Then let her,” he growls. “Don’t fucking hold it. Let her make a mess.”

You whimper, fingers frantic, back arching off the bed.

And that’s when he says it—low and hot and foul.

“Let her fuck your fingers, slut.”

You snap.

Your body locks up, then shatters. You cum so hard your legs shake, hips jerking forward, thighs squeezing around your own hand as your pussy gushes over your fingers in sticky, messy waves. The moan that rips from your throat is broken, cracked, half-wet from tears.

It doesn’t hit you right away.

At first, there’s just white. Blinding. A full-body seizure of pleasure as your cunt clenches around nothing, soaking your own fingers, mouth open in a moan that doesn’t even sound like you.

It crashes over you fast. Wet. Messy.

You cum harder than you ever have in your life—harder than you thought was even possible—and your body just keeps going, hips jerking, slick dripping past your knuckles, your voice cracking on every gasp.

Heeseung is still there.

You know he is. You can feel his eyes on you, feel his breath in the space between your bodies, but you can’t look at him. Not right now. Not like this.

And then it fades.

That warm, bright static in your brain flickers out. Your thighs twitch. Your hand finally drops, fingers soaked, wrist aching, clit too sensitive to touch again.

What’s left is the sound of your breathing. The slick, wet mess beneath your hips. The embarrassment flooding in all at once like a second wave.

Reality slams back into you hard.

You’re laid out across his bed—sweaty, flushed, thighs spread wide and soaked all the way down to the crease of your ass. Your pussy’s still twitching, swollen and glistening, your panties bunched at one knee, hoodie halfway pushed up your stomach.

Your fingers shine in the low light. Still wet. Still shaking.

You sit up fast, panic sweeping over your skin like ice water. “Shit—fuck.”

Your hand fumbles to pull your hoodie down, yanking it over your thighs, shoving your panties back into place even though they’re absolutely soaked through. The fabric clings wetly to your pussy and only makes the mess feel worse.

Heeseung hasn’t moved.

Still in the chair. Still one hand inside his shorts. He looks completely unbothered. Calm. Like you didn’t just cum your entire soul out in front of him.

You can’t meet his eyes.

He watches you fuss with the hem of your hoodie, your hands still trembling slightly as you try to make yourself look decent.

“Didn’t say stop,” he says mildly.

You glare at him, cheeks burning. “I came. Pretty sure that’s the goal, right?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “Just surprised you’re acting all shy now. That pussy was practically talking thirty seconds ago.”

“Jesus—” you squeeze your eyes shut, bury your face in your hands.

Heeseung grins. Not mean. Not mocking. Just amused.

“You do realize how loud you were, right?” he adds. “I thought the bed was gonna snap in half.”

“Please stop talking,” you groan, voice muffled.

“You were crying,” he says like it’s a compliment, hand still lazily palming himself under his shorts. “That shit was beautiful.”

You peek at him through your fingers. He’s still hard. Still watching you with that same steady calm, like this is fine. Like this is normal.

He doesn’t even seem fazed.

That somehow makes the ache between your legs flare again. Weak, overstimulated, but greedy.

You clear your throat. “I didn’t realize I—um. That I could… do that.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Cum?”

You shoot him a look.

Heeseung laughs, finally letting go of himself. “You’ve been fighting her for years. All I did was give you directions.”

You tuck your knees up into your chest, arms wrapped around them. You feel like you just stripped naked in front of someone who stayed fully clothed—and now he’s just lounging there like you didn’t just show him the most private part of yourself.

You sit in that awkward silence for a few seconds longer.

Heeseung stretches, chair creaking slightly. “So,” he says, tone casual. “Lesson two tomorrow?”

You blink.

“…There’s a second lesson?”

He smiles slow, eyes dropping to your thighs again. “You think she’s done learning?”

Your pussy twitches beneath your soaked panties.

-

Your legs are still weak from the first night when you leave.

Just a few days back home. Just a quick visit. You didn’t think it would matter—but the second you cross the county line, your pussy starts aching like she knows she’s been abandoned. Like she misses his voice already.

You think about texting him before you even unpack your overnight bag.

 It starts that fast—barely through the front door, barely through dinner with your parents, barely through pretending to care about someone’s new side hustle or whatever cousin just had a baby, and already your mind is slipping. 

Already you’re restless. Already your body feels too awake. You can still feel the slick sticking to the inside of your thighs from last night, from the way he sat in that chair like he was doing you a favor while you touched yourself for the first time like it meant something. It hasn’t gone away. The ache stayed with you. 

That trembling throb between your legs that didn’t fade after one orgasm—or two—or three. And now, here you are. Sitting in your childhood bedroom like you didn’t just learn how to listen to your pussy in someone else’s bed with someone else’s voice in your ear.

You last all of twelve hours. Maybe thirteen if you count sleep, but that’s cheating. You keep checking your phone like a freak. Not even for a message—just to see his name.

 You scroll through the notifications like maybe he’ll magically show up. You open his contact. Stare at the little circle icon. You type a text. Delete it. 

Type again. Delete. Pace the room. Pull your hair up. Let it fall. Lie on the bed. Toss the blanket off. Roll onto your stomach, then your back, then sit up again because your body’s too hot and your thoughts won’t stop dragging back to the sound of his voice saying “Good girl. She’s listening now.”

You try to distract yourself. Put music on. Stare at the ceiling. Scroll through reels. But the tension is building and it’s not casual. It’s deep. It’s mean. 

Like your pussy’s crawling up your spine and whispering call him over and over again. And finally, like a fucking addict, you give in.

You don’t try to be subtle. Your fingers tremble as you type the message—“Can I call you?”—and hit send before you can regret it. Your breath catches in your throat. Heart pounding. Shame twisting in your gut like you’ve already crossed a line and he hasn’t even replied. But then your phone buzzes. Two texts in a row. You click without thinking.

No. I’ll call you.

Speaker on. Hands ready. Nothing else.

You don’t even get a second to prepare. The call comes in instantly, and you fumble to answer it, press speaker, toss the phone onto your pillow and sit back, legs shaking under your blanket. You’re wearing nothing but a big t-shirt—no bra, no panties. Like your body already knew what was coming.

His voice is in your ear the second the line connects.

Low. Thick. Wrecked.

“You waited all day just to fuck yourself to my voice, didn’t you?”

The sound alone makes your thighs clamp together. You can’t answer. You don’t know what to say. You feel called out, ruined, exposed, and he hasn’t even seen you.

“You’re pathetic,” he breathes, and it’s not cruel—it’s reverent. Like he’s turned on by the depth of your desperation. “You left for less than twenty-four hours and she’s already starving.”

Your breath comes out shaky. “She hasn’t shut up.”

“I bet. That little pussy’s been crying for attention, hasn’t she? Soaking your panties, throbbing for no reason. Did you even try to touch her?”

Your hand slides down your stomach. Shame floods your chest. “I tried last night.”

“And?”

Your fingers drift over your mound, soft and slow.

“…Didn’t work.”

“Of course it didn’t.” He doesn’t miss a beat. “Because she’s not trained to your fingers. She’s trained to my voice.”

You nearly choke.

“Take the blanket off.”

You do.

“T-shirt stays. I want you messy under it. Like a filthy little secret.”

You obey, chest rising. The air hits your bare skin and your nipples pebble instantly under the thin cotton. You slide your hand under the hem and find yourself dripping already—your folds slippery and warm, your clit throbbing at the first brush.

“Fuck. You’re already wet.”

You don’t answer.

“Don’t ignore me. Say it.”

You whimper. “I’m wet.”

“Where?”

Your hand slides lower. “Everywhere.”

“Let me hear it.”

You drag your fingers through your folds, then lift them to the mic.

Squish. Slick. Wet.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes. “She’s fucking leaking for me.”

“She won’t stop,” you pant. “She’s been clenching—she’s needy. I can’t—I can’t even think straight.”

“She doesn’t need you to think. She needs you to listen.”

You nod like he can see you.

“You touching your clit yet?”

“No,” you whisper. “Just teasing.”

“Don’t tease her. Feed her.”

You obey. Your fingers find your clit and press slow, warm circles into the swollen skin. Your hips twitch immediately. Your body jolts with relief. Like it’s been waiting for this.

“Fuck. That’s it. Let her roll her hips. Let her grind on your fingers.”

You do.

And you moan. Loud. Wet. Pathetic.

“You sound like you’re crying.”

“I might be,” you choke out. “I’m—I’ve been on edge all day. She’s screaming—”

“Then shut her up.”

Your fingers move faster. Your breath turns ragged. The slick is everywhere now—coating your palm, sliding down your ass, soaking the sheets beneath you. You can hear it—slap, slap, slap—and you know he can too.

“God, listen to her,” he says. “She’s fucking talking again. Slapping wet, loud as hell, crying to be filled.”

Your thighs start to shake.

“Don’t you dare stop.”

“Heeseung—fuck, I’m close—”

“She wants to cum. So let her.”

You cum hard, back arching, legs tensed, voice cracking open around a sob as your pussy convulses around nothing—just your fingers, just your shame, just his voice dragging it out of you with nothing but command.

“Again,” he growls. “Don’t you dare take your hand off her. You begged for this. You waited all fucking day for it.”

You keep going. Because you can’t stop. Because this is his now.

-

You don’t get a break.

Heeseung doesn’t let you.

After that first call—the one where you came so hard you swore you saw stars—you thought maybe the tension would ease up. Maybe you’d get to breathe. But you don’t. Because the second you wake up the next morning, there’s already a text waiting for you.

Morning. She hungry?

Your pussy clenches on reflex.

You bite your lip, cheeks flushing under the covers.

Yes.

His reply is instant.

Good. edge yourself until you’re shaking. No cumming. No cheating. You’ll send me a pic of your fingers when you’re done.

That’s it. No teasing. No sweet talk. Just commands. Direct. Cruel. And of course—you obey.

You finger yourself that morning with shaking hands, grinding into your palm in the silence of your old bedroom with one hand over your mouth to muffle your cries. You stop just short of release three times. Your panties are soaked. The sheets beneath you are ruined.

You send the photo.

Two slick fingers, gleaming. One droplet hanging from your wrist like a taunt.

He doesn’t reply until hours later.

Beautiful. Don’t clean her up. Let her stick to your skin. I want her to haunt you all day.

That’s how it starts.

Sometimes it’s a call. Sometimes it’s just a photo prompt. Sometimes it’s voice notes—low, slow, whispered filth that you replay in the bathroom on full volume with your thighs clenched so tight you can barely breathe.

Another day: make a mess on your favorite pair of panties. Send proof. Don’t wash them. Fold them and put them in your drawer like a secret. Like she remembers.

When you can’t call—family dinners, company in the house, a wedding event—he doesn’t complain. He just adapts.

He sends you three voice notes in a row, each one filthier than the last.

“Are you wearing panties right now?”

“She’s wet just from this, isn’t she?”

“Put your phone between your legs. Let my voice buzz against her while you grind.”

You do. In the middle of the day. On the edge of your childhood bed. With the door locked and your hand clamped over your mouth to muffle the sound of you cumming on command.

Every time you text him, he knows what you need before you say it.

On your knees. Two fingers. Say my name when you finish. That’s all.

You cum like a trained animal.

By the end of the fourth day, you’re overstimulated and aching. Your cunt stays warm. Your clit stays swollen. You can’t think straight without hearing his voice. You can’t fall asleep without a pillow between your legs and your phone under your ear, replaying the way he said your name like it tasted good.

He doesn’t let you get comfortable.

I want her ruined by the time you get back. Wet stains on your thighs. Bruised from your own fingers. No excuses. You belong to me now, yeah?

-

You’re at the dinner table when the text comes in.

There’s a bowl of pasta in front of you. Your uncle’s talking about traffic. Your mom’s pouring more wine. And your phone buzzes in your lap—one tiny, harmless vibration you almost ignore until you see the name on your lockscreen.

Heeseung.

Your chest tightens immediately. A hot ripple runs down your spine. You unlock it under the table, heart already picking up speed, thighs pressed tight together like that’s gonna help anything.

You expect a voice note. Maybe an instruction. Instead, it’s just a single message.

Don’t open this here. I’m serious.

You excuse yourself. Bathroom. You try to walk casually, but your legs feel unstable, like your body knows what’s coming and is bracing for it. You shut the door. Lock it. Sit down on the closed toilet seat. And then you open the message.

It’s not a photo. Not a voice note. Just a block of text.

And it destroys you.

I want you dripping. Right now. I want your thighs sticky. I want your pussy hot and twitching and swollen like she’s just been edged for an hour and she’s still not allowed to cum. I want her pulsing around nothing. Squeezing air. Leaking like she misses my cock even though she’s never had it. That’s how good I want her trained. That she misses me even though I’ve never fucked her. I want you to slide your hand into your panties and feel her spit for me. Feel how filthy she’s gotten just from reading my words. Not even hearing my voice. Just letters on a screen and she’s frothing like a brainless little thing. I want her throbbing. Sore. Pink. Aching. I want you to pull your panties to the side and look at what I’ve done to you. How she opens for nothing. How she clenches for nothing. How she cries, fucking cries, when she doesn’t get touched. I want her messy. Slutty. Wet enough to embarrass you. Wet enough you can’t clean it up with one tissue. Wet enough that if someone walked into that bathroom right now, they’d smell her. No fingers. Not yet. Just pressure. Palm down. Let her hump. Let her grind. Let her get yourself dirty. She knows what to do. She doesn’t need permission anymore. You’re gonna leak down your leg just reading this, aren’t you? She’s already twitching. Already soaking. She knows what she is now. A thing that exists to be used. To be made wet. To be trained.

You stare at your screen. Eyes wide. Chest heaving.

And you feel it—that slow, steady drip.

You slide your hand down between your legs and whimper when your fingers meet your panties—soaked through. Hot and sticky, your folds puffy and swollen, everything throbbing with need.

You spread your legs wider. There’s no stopping it. You have to.

You push your panties aside, just like he said, and when you look down, your cunt is shining. Slick lips parted, clit swollen and begging, a string of wet clinging between your folds when you breathe too hard.

You cup her with your whole palm and rock once.

You grind again. Harder. The heel of your hand pressing directly on your clit. Your hips move faster, panting now, forehead pressed against your bent knee as your pussy humps your own hand like she’s starved.

You’re fucking yourself with no fingers. Just pressure. Just filth. Just his words rotting your brain and your pussy loving it.

You don’t stop until your legs lock, jaw clenched tight to muffle the moan that rips through your throat. Your pussy convulses, grinding down hard, cumming in waves against your own palm until you’re crying silently, thighs soaked, panties a mess, body twitching from the force of it.

When it’s over, you’re wrecked. You sit there in silence. Breathing heavy. Panties still pulled to the side, hand drenched, cunt gaping and twitching like she’s still looking for him.

You snap a photo.

Not of your face. Just your hand. Soaked. Ruined. Slick covering your wrist, dripping down your knuckles.

You send it. No caption. A minute later, his reply lights up your screen.

That’s how she’s supposed to look. Every day until you get home.

-

You don’t even knock.

You could, but what’s the point? He told you to come over as soon as you got back. No texts. No warning. Just a short message yesterday night:

You better show up dripping.

And you are.

The shorts you wore are damp at the crotch, your hoodie clinging to the sweat on your lower back. Every shift of your thighs against the car seat on the drive over made you squirm. By the time you’re standing in front of his door, your cunt is throbbing. Empty. Trained. Starving.

He opens it like he already knew you were there.

Barefoot. Hoodie. Nothing underneath.

He stares at you for a second, quiet. His eyes drop to your legs, to the way you’re fidgeting, clenching, trying not to press your thighs together. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t speak.

Just opens the door wider and lets you in.

You step past him. Silent. Heat prickling under your skin. His presence is loud, even without words. You can feel the pressure building already—your pussy knows. She’s aware. Aware of the air, of the scent of him, of how close he is now after five days of only hearing him through a speaker.

He closes the door behind you. And waits.

You turn to him, hands still curled into your sleeves. “I did everything.”

He lifts a brow. “Yeah?”

You nod. Swallow hard. “Every day.”

Heeseung steps forward slowly. Stops in front of you. His eyes flick down, over your body, like he’s looking for confirmation.

“You leaking?”

Your breath catches. “Yes.”

“Prove it.”

Your heart slams against your ribs. But you don’t hesitate.

Your fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts and tug them down in one smooth motion. They hit the floor and you step out of them, bare underneath, thighs sticky and glistening. Your hoodie barely covers your hips now. One inch higher and he’d see everything.

He doesn’t touch you.

“Show me,” he says, voice low.

Your breath hitches again—but you drop to your knees. Not because he asked. Because your body knows what to do now.

You kneel between his feet on the hardwood floor, hands moving to part your thighs so he can see. You pull the hoodie up to your waist and slide two fingers between your folds—dripping. It spreads so easily. Glossy. Viscous. Your pussy folds open for your own touch like it’s nothing new. Like she’s been practicing all week.

You keep your eyes on him the whole time.

And when your fingers come back up, soaked and glistening, you hold them out. Heeseung watches you in silence.

Then leans forward, slow and deliberate. He takes your fingers into his mouth and sucks—deep, slow, tongue curling around them like it’s a reward.

Your hips jerk slightly. Your cunt clenches hard. He pulls off with a wet pop and stares down at you.

“She tastes trained.”

You nod.

“She beg yet?”

You exhale. “She never shut up.”

He clicks his tongue. “Yeah?”

Then he grabs your jaw. Fingers firm but not rough, tilting your face up to his.

“You want her filled?”

You nod again. “Please.”

“Not yet,” he says. “She’s not ready.”

“I’m ready—she’s so ready, I’ve been—”

“I don’t care what you think. You’re not here to make decisions. You’re here to do what I say.” He lets go of your face. “You wanna get fed? Earn it. Lay down. Show me how she begs.”

You scramble onto the bed.

Flat on your back. Legs spread. Cunt on display. Dripping.

You’re already on your back, knees drawn up, thighs spread and trembling, cunt pulsing with heat that’s been building all week. You don’t try to hide it. You can’t. Your pussy’s wet. Loud. Lips glossy and parted, folds flushed and twitching like she knows the moment has finally come. She’s been teased. Trained. Denied. You’ve been filling her with fingers and pressure and your own voice, but never this. Never him. And now he’s standing at the edge of the bed, staring down at you like he’s finally ready to eat.

But he doesn’t touch you first.

He picks your shorts up off the floor, turns them inside out—and finds your soaked panties tangled in the legs. He peels them out slowly, sticky with your slick, the thin fabric darkened and clinging to itself. You watch, breath caught, legs still open, burning with shame as he brings them up to his face.

And sniffs.

Deep.

He inhales like it’s a fucking ritual. Eyes half-lidded. Thumb pressing into the crotch to smear the wetness around before dragging it across his lip. His tongue flicks out—tastes it.

“Jesus fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “She’s been marinating in this.”

Your body jolts. Your hands fist the sheets.

“She’s loud, too.” His voice drops lower. “I haven’t even touched her and she’s already talking. Look at her. Fucking twitching. Dripping. Spreading herself open like she knows who she belongs to.”

“Heeseung—” You whimper.

“Shut up.”

He tosses your panties to the side and climbs onto the bed, slow and smooth, eyes never leaving your cunt. He settles between your legs and just kneels there for a moment. Breathing her in. Hands on your thighs. Pushing them wider. Spreading you so open you can feel the air hit your slick.

You’re soaked. You know it. You can feel it, the slick sliding down into the dip of your ass, the way your folds part with every breath, your clit poking out, hot and swollen.

He just stares.

“You fucking trained her like this,” he mutters, almost to himself. “You really did it. Came like a good little slut every night just to keep her hungry.”

“She’s starving,” you whisper, voice shaking.

“I can see that.”

His thumbs press into the crease of your thighs, holding you open. His face lowers. Inches away. His breath hits your folds and your hips twitch violently.

He doesn’t lick you.

Not yet.

He just hovers. His nose skims your inner thigh. Then up. Right up the slick slit, dragging his breath across your folds until your body shudders. He breathes her in again—this time slower. Longer. Right at the source.

“God,” he mutters. “She fucking smells like obedience.”

You sob.

And then he spits.

Right on your pussy.

Hot. Heavy. Messy.

It splashes over your clit, drips between your folds, mixes with your slick and makes everything worse.

Your hips roll. You can’t stop it.

“Don’t you fucking move,” he growls. “She’s getting attention. She better stay still.”

And finally—finally—his tongue drags up your slit. A long, slow lick from hole to clit that ends with his mouth wrapped around it, sucking hard.

Your hands fly to his hair. Your spine arches off the bed.

But he pins you with one forearm across your stomach and doesn’t stop.

He eats you like a man starved. Like you’ve been feeding her for him. Keeping her ready. Keeping her needy. His mouth is everywhere—tongue licking up everything you’ve been saving, spit and slick and mess pooling under your ass while he moans into you.

“That’s it,” he groans against your clit. “Let me taste five fucking days of begging.”

You cry out, thighs clenching.

But he slaps your pussy with his hand—sharp, wet, punishing.

“Open.”

You go limp. You can’t fight it. You don’t want to.

He eats you like it’s personal. Tongue flat. Licking. Circling. Spitting again. Your clit’s too swollen, too sensitive, but he doesn’t care. He mumbles into you—filth you can barely understand because he’s too focused on devouring.

“She’s so fucking loud. She won’t shut up. You hear that?”

You do.

Your pussy makes noise with every lick—squelching, wet, obscene.

“I didn’t even fuck her yet,” he growls. “And she’s already creaming.”

You try to cum. You try.

But he pulls back just as your thighs start to shake, just as your stomach seizes.

“Nope. She’s not getting fed all the way until I’ve felt her on my cock.”

You nod frantically, fingers gripping the sheets, desperate.

Heeseung leans back, licking his lips, chin soaked, eyes wild.

“She’s ready,” he says. “She’s starving.”

He’s already got two fingers hooked inside you when he tells you to open your mouth.

Not to kiss him. Not to speak. Just to take it.

He shoves his fingers past your lips—soaked in your own slick, the same fingers he’s been curling deep inside your cunt, dragging against that spot that makes your eyes roll back. You gag around them, moaning as the taste floods your tongue—salty, sour, yours. He pushes them down onto your tongue, presses hard until your spit leaks out around them and drips down your chin.

“Swallow it,” he mutters, eyes locked on your face. “That’s what obedience tastes like.”

You do. Of course you do.

Because you’d do anything he says.

And he knows it.

He wipes the slick from your lips with his thumb, drags it down your throat, then shifts forward—kneeling between your trembling thighs, lining himself up with your soaked entrance like he’s been waiting years for this moment.

You stare down at his cock, thick and flushed and leaking at the tip, and your whole body tenses. You’re already open, already dripping, already fucked dumb—but none of it’s going to prepare you for this.

“Look at her,” he mutters under his breath, dragging the head of his cock through your folds, smearing pre-cum across your clit. “She’s fucking begging.”

“She wants it,” you pant, voice shaking. “Please—”

He doesn’t give you time to finish.

He presses in—slow, deep, cruel.

The stretch hits you all at once. Your back arches. Your breath leaves you in a choked gasp, and your pussy clenches hardaround him, sucking him in inch by inch like she never wants to let him go.

“Ohhh, fuck,” he groans. “She’s trained alright.”

You moan. Loud. Desperate. Writhing beneath him as he bottoms out, his hips flush against your ass, his cock buried all the way to the base.

She’s full.

Finally fucking full.

Your cunt grips him tight, fluttering around his cock like she’s been starving for it—and she has. Every inch of him hits something you didn’t know existed. Your body shakes under the pressure. You’re soaked. Stuffed. Used. And you want more.

“Say it,” he growls. “Say what she is.”

“She’s yours,” you gasp. “She’s a hole—your hole—she’s been waiting for this—”

He pulls out halfway, then slams back in.

You scream.

“You’re goddamn right she’s mine,” he snarls. “You trained her just to take my cock.”

You nod frantically, crying now, pleasure too thick in your throat to hold back.

He starts to fuck you in earnest—hard, relentless, loud. Skin slapping skin. His cock slick from your wetness, dragging through every twitch and squeeze, pressing deep, deeper, forcing your body to stay open for him. You feel it in your stomach. Your spine. Your fucking brain.

Every thrust knocks your thoughts loose. And you want to thank him. You want to feel him. You want to taste him.

So you lift your head—try to kiss him.

You lean up, lips parting, mouth open and begging.

He pulls back.

His hand grabs your throat, presses you flat into the mattress. You gasp, eyes wide, blinking up at him in confusion. He smiles. Cruel. Mocking.

“No,” he says coldly. “You don’t deserve to be kissed.”

Your breath shatters.

“Kisses are for good girls,” he spits. “You’re just a trained little hole.”

Your pussy clenches around him so violently he groans.

“That’s all you are now, isn’t it?” he sneers. “A stupid little cunt that opens on command. You get used, not kissed.”

Tears spill over your cheeks.

And you cum. Just like that.

From the words. From the shame. From the humiliation.

Your pussy spasms around his cock, soaking both of you as you scream into his hand still wrapped around your throat. Your hips jerk. Your vision goes white. But he doesn’t stop.

He fucks you through it, hips pounding, cock punching into your oversensitive cunt like he’s trying to reprogram you from the inside out.

“That’s it,” he pants. “Let her milk me. Let her show me how much she needed this.”

You’re sobbing. Gasping. Too wrecked to speak.

“Fucking knew it,” he groans. “You were never gonna be satisfied until you got split open.”

He leans down, mouth right by your ear.

“But don’t ever reach for a kiss again. Sluts like you don’t get kissed.”

You’re already limp when he flips you.

Your body gives out so easily—shoulders pressed into the mattress, arms numb, legs trembling, hips cocked up on instinct the second he yanks you onto your stomach. His hands drag you by the waist like a ragdoll. Like something boneless, brainless, ruined. Your face is buried in the pillow. Your cheek sticks to the fabric. You’re crying, still, but there’s no shame left. Just the raw ache of your cunt pulsing around nothing—because he pulled out.

You whine, pathetic and wordless, hips rolling back into the air, leaking down your thighs.

“Still hungry?” he mutters behind you.

You nod into the pillow.

“Say it.”

“She’s empty,” you whimper. “She’s twitching—she wants you back in—she’s not done—she’s never done—”

You gasp when the head of his cock slides back in. Just the tip.

He doesn’t give you the rest.

You wiggle. Cry. Press your ass back against him and moan when your folds stretch again, split open all over his length.

“You trained her to take it,” he says. “Now you’re gonna train her to keep it.”

He presses forward.

His cock buries to the hilt in one brutal thrust, and your whole body spasms. Your hands claw at the sheets. Your cunt clenches so violently it forces a sob out of your chest, high-pitched and broken. You’re still sensitive. Still throbbing from the last orgasm. But he doesn’t care.

He starts fucking you again like he owns you.

The slap of skin echoes in the room, wet and obscene, his cock pounding into your raw pussy like she’s just a hole to conquer. You don’t even try to move anymore. Your body takes it. Open, obedient, used.

“You like that?” he pants. “You like being my little fucktoy?”

“Yeah, you do. You’re trained now. A good little cocksleeve who comes when she’s told. Cries when she’s full. Cums from being humiliated.”

“I do,” you choke out. “I’m yours—I’m your toy—just your fucktoy—use me—use her—”

“That’s it,” he growls. “That’s what she wanted, isn’t it? Not kindness. Not kisses. Just cock. Just someone to shove it in and remind her she’s nothing but a messy, wet little pussy.”

He thrusts harder. You scream into the sheets.

“She’s so loud,” he snarls. “So fucking wet. She’s gushing. Every time I pull out she cries.”

You don’t even recognize your own voice when you cum again.

It’s raw. Ugly. Loud.

You scream—clawing at the sheets, nails ripping fabric, your body wracked with spasms as you squirt all over his cock, wet exploding out of you in waves, soaking the bed, your stomach, your thighs. You can’t stop it. You don’t want to.

He fucks you through it—harder.

“Let her break,” he growls. “Let her fucking split.”

And when your body finally collapses, hips falling, spine trembling, Heeseung doesn’t even slow down.

He grabs your hips, hauls you up, and drives in deep one more time—and stays there. His cock pulses inside you. Thick. Hot. Flooding you.

You feel it. You feel his cum shoot deep, thick ropes filling your already ruined pussy until your belly aches with it.

He stays inside. Keeps you cockwarmed, plugged full, hands rubbing down your spine like this is the aftercare.

Not words. Not love. Just being kept full. Like you should be.

You barely breathe. Your eyes are glassy. Your mouth’s open. You feel him lean over you. Feel the slow drag of his lips against your ear.

“You’re not starved anymore,” he whispers. “She’s fed now. Finally.”

You nod. Barely. Weak. Fucked out. His cock twitches.

“She’s still twitching,” he murmurs. “She wants to sleep like this.”

-

You wake up to the burn in your thighs.

The stretch. The ache. That slick-dried, too-sensitive sting between your legs from being filled for hours without a break. Your skin’s flushed. Clammy. You shift slightly under the covers, still half-asleep, and you feel it—him.

Still there. Still inside you.

You blink. Breathe. Try to make sense of your body—but the pressure between your legs is still warm. Your cunt clenches instinctively, and his cock twitches in response.

A slow, deep ache spreads in your gut.

His arm is draped over your waist. His chest is pressed against your back. He’s asleep—soft breaths on your shoulder, jaw resting against the side of your head. And his cock is still buried to the base in your pussy. Warm. Heavy. Plugging you full like it belongs there.

But something else creeps in too.

You lie there for a moment. Silent. Still. Pussy fluttering, heartbeat slowing, and that awful little ache growing in your chest. The one that started the second he pulled away last night. The one that settled into your ribs when you reached for him and he said “You don’t deserve to be kissed.”

You swallow. You whisper it before you even think about it.

“Are you really not gonna kiss me?”

It’s soft. Not needy. Just… there.

His breath shifts against your skin. His arm tightens slightly around your waist.

You almost regret asking.

Until he exhales through his nose and mutters, voice rough and low and real, “I’m still fucking inside you, you brat. You think I’m gonna spend the whole night cockwarming my favorite pussy and not kiss her in the morning?”

You twist under him, face flushed, and turn your head over your shoulder—and his mouth is already there.

No hesitation. He kisses you hard.

Mouth slanting over yours, tongue sliding in with no patience, lips full and hot and filthy with morning breath and spit. You moan into it, deep and broken, cunt clenching around his cock again like she’s reacting to the kiss like it’s touch.

His hand grips your jaw, thumb dragging over your cheek as he devours your mouth. He licks into you like he means it—like you’ve earned it—like he’s been wanting to do it since before he ever called you a slut.

You’re whimpering into his mouth when it happens.

Your lips slide against his, sticky with spit, your breath still uneven from how long you spent crying into the pillow, your cunt still fluttering weakly around his cock. He hasn’t pulled out. He’s still inside you. Still twitching, half-hard again already, thick and warm, stretching your still-leaking pussy while your body curls back into him, needy and clingy and soft in a way you didn’t get to be last night.

His hand cups your jaw now. Gentle. Finally. His thumb drags along your lower lip, slow and possessive, like he’s re-learning your mouth after denying it. His tongue pushes into you with unhurried filth, and your hips shift just barely, like your cunt’s trying to pull more of him in. Like she doesn’t even know how to be empty anymore.

And then you hear it.

“Heeseung?”

It’s distant. Not loud. Sleepy. But your blood freezes.

“Hey—have you seen Y/N?”

Evie. She’s awake. The breath dies in your throat.

Your eyes fly open. Heeseung’s hand freezes on your jaw. Your whole body locks. His cock is still deep inside you, softening now, but still heavy. Still leaking. You can feel him dripping down your inner thighs as your brain flips inside out with panic.

“Shit,” you mouth, barely audible.

Heeseung exhales through his nose, calm, but his arm is already tightening around your waist like he’s trying to figure out his next move in real time.

“Y/N?” she calls again. “Where’d you go?”

You scramble out of the bed like you’ve been shot. Legs wobbly. Pussy sore. You trip over the blanket as you reach for your discarded clothes, yanking your hoodie on over your head, trying not to scream as your shorts catch on your ankle. You’re still soaked, your panties still twisted around your thigh from where he shoved them earlier, and you can feel his cum still inside you, wet and hot and fucking obvious.

Heeseung’s already sitting up, dragging his hoodie on, running a hand through his hair to make it look like he just woke up.

You’re panicking. “Do I go back to her room? What do I do—what if she’s in the hallway—?”

Heeseung stands up, grabs your shoulders, kisses your forehead once—quick, mocking, cocky—like this is funny to him.

“Bathroom. Now.”

You sprint for it. Just as he opens his door.

His voice is casual. Sleep-rough.

“Yo.”

“You seen Y/N? I woke up and she wasn’t in bed. Her stuff’s still there though.”

Heeseung stretches in the doorway, voice smooth as fucking silk.

“Nah, haven’t seen her. She probably went to the bathroom.”

“She didn’t text me.”

“She probably didn’t want to wake you.”

You’re crouched in the bathroom, hands over your mouth, hoodie soaked at the hem, thighs still trembling. You glance down and see a smear of his cum on your leg, glistening in the morning light like a neon sign of guilt.

“Whatever. Tell her I’m making pancakes.”

“Will do.”

Door shuts. Heeseung turns, leans into the bathroom, finds you crouched by the sink.

“You owe me.”

You punch his chest.

He grabs your wrist. Kisses it.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, voice low. “You’ll pay me back tonight."

-

It’s early.

Evie’s downstairs making coffee. You can hear the clinking of mugs, the stupid hum of whatever playlist she plays when she’s in a good mood.

You’re in Heeseung’s lap. Hoodie on. No underwear. His back’s against the headboard, his cock deep inside you, and you’re grinding slowly—hips circling, cunt fluttering, hands pressed to his chest to keep yourself upright.

You’re not allowed to bounce. Not allowed to moan.

Just slow, controlled rolls—like you’re milking him without giving yourself away.

“You sound like you want her to know,” he whispers against your throat.

You shake your head. Breathe through your nose. Keep moving.

“Then be quiet, baby. Or I’ll hold your mouth and your hips still, and you won’t cum at all.”

You almost cry. He grabs your ass. Tilts your hips just right.

“If she walks in, you better keep her name off your lips while I fill you up.”

You do. Barely.

You cum with your hand clamped over your mouth, twitching around his cock like you were made for it—and Heeseung cums seconds later, low and quiet, mouth on your collarbone.

Downstairs?

Evie sings along to the chorus.

-

It’s disgusting.

There’s no other word for it.

You’re on all fours, face buried in Heeseung’s mattress, drooling, moaning, thighs trembling with every wet squelch of his fingers plunging into you from behind. His mouth is glued to your cunt, spit running down his chin, tongue working your clit in slow, sloppy laps while one hand spreads you open—and the other, lower, slick with your cum, is rubbing tight circles around your asshole.

You’re whining his name. Filthy. Wordless. Brain-melted.

“Fuck, she’s drooling for it,” he mutters into your pussy. “She wants both. She’s ready. One in her ass, two in her cunt—you wanna be stretched like a proper little hole, huh?”

Your face is soaked. Your body’s trembling. Your pussy flutters around his fingers, slick squelching with every slow drag in and out. Your rim clenches, raw and wet from the friction. You try to answer, but all that comes out is a pathetic sob.

“Say it,” he growls. “Say what she wants.”

“I want it,” you gasp, voice cracking. “I want you to open my ass—wanna be full, wanna cum like a fucktoy—please—please—”

And then—

“Y/N?”

You hear your name like it’s being spoken through a tunnel.

You freeze.

Every muscle in your body locks.

Heeseung doesn’t move.

You can feel his tongue hovering right at your clit. His finger is still circling your asshole.

And then you both look up.

In the doorway. Mouth open. Eyes wide. Chest heaving.

Evie.

Her face doesn’t go red. It goes white. Like her blood just dropped to her feet.

She stares at your body—at your back arched, knees wide, your ass open, Heeseung’s hand buried between your cheeks, your best friend’s brother with his mouth on you and your spit in his beard.

And then she gags. Audibly. Violently.

Her whole body jolts forward like she’s about to puke right there in the hallway.

“Oh my—fucking—god—” she chokes. “What the—what the FUCK—”

She turns. Presses her palm to the wall. Leans into it. Her other hand clamps over her mouth and you see her shoulders jerk. Once. Twice. A horrible, broken sound crawls out of her throat.

“No—no—no—no, no, no—”

She’s panicking.

Can’t breathe. Her body is shaking so hard you think she might collapse.

“Evie—” you start, voice already wet. “Evie, please—please just listen—”

“DON’T.”

The scream hits like a slap.

“Don’t talk to me. Don’t—don’t even say my fucking name—”

You’re sobbing now. Reaching for the blanket. Falling off the bed. Barely able to pull your hoodie down over your sticky, twitching body.

Heeseung moves. Not fast enough. Still shirtless. Still hard. His fingers still glistening.

“Heejoo—”

“DON’T. CALL ME THAT.” Her voice is shrill, raw, wrecked. “You’re my fucking brother.”

She looks at you. Like she doesn’t even know you.

And then her expression cracks completely.

Her face contorts—pain, betrayal, disgust, hatred—all in one devastating collapse.

“You were inside her,” she whispers, and her voice breaks. “You had your—your—you were licking her while you were fingering her ass—”

“You’re both fucking insane.”

You crawl toward her. Not thinking. Just begging. Your knees burn. Your hands shake.

“Evie—please—please just let me explain—”

She flinches.

Flinches.

Like your voice touched her skin. Then she goes still. Her breathing slows. Her hands drop to her sides.

She looks empty.

“Don’t come near me.”

Her voice is flat now. Robotic.

“Don’t talk to me. Don’t look at me. Don’t even fucking breathe in my direction.”

You can’t speak. Can’t move. She steps back.

Looks at Heeseung. Then at you.

“You’re both dead to me.”

-

​​You don’t remember the walk home.

You don’t remember grabbing your phone, or leaving the house, or what the weather was like. You don’t remember how long you cried, or how many people stared, or how fucking long it took for the heat between your legs to fade into something cold and ugly. You just remember sitting on your bedroom floor—hoodie still wet between your thighs, your underwear balled up in your pocket—and trying to breathe without choking on it.

Because it doesn’t stop. The image. Her face.

Evie, hand over her mouth. Evie, gagging. Evie, stepping back like you were something dirty.

She meant it. Every word.

“Don’t talk to me. Don’t look at me. Don’t fucking breathe in my direction.”

She meant it.

You try to text her that night. You don’t even know what to say. There are three different messages in your drafts: one with just her name. One that says “I’m sorry.” One that says nothing at all.

They don’t send. You’ve been blocked.

He doesn’t text either. You don’t even know if he can.

The silence is so big it feels like a second death. You lie in bed every night with your phone face-up on your pillow, waiting for it to light up with anything. A call. A voice note. Just a name.

It never comes.

But you still feel him. In your body. In your bones.

Every time you try to sleep, your body curls like it’s expecting to be filled.

Some nights you wake up sweating—panting, pussy twitching—because you dreamed of his voice again.

You still miss him. Even after all of it. Even after how it ended.

Even after Evie’s face broke in half at the sight of you—wet, spread open, her brother’s finger sliding into your ass while you begged for more.

You still miss him. And that’s the part that makes you sick.

-

It’s been nearly two weeks since you watched Evie recoil in that doorway, hand clamped over her mouth like she was actually going to vomit.

You can’t erase the memory of her face—how disgust bled into betrayal, how her gaze slid right past you like you didn’t exist, then landed on Heeseung as if he were some twisted stranger in her own home. You tried to bury the image, tried to make it small and unimportant, but it lives in your chest now, swelling every time you breathe.

You haven’t talked to either of them since. Not one word to her, not a single text to him.

It’s as if the world paused on that moment: her voice ripping through the room, your body half-naked, his spit drying on your thighs, your stomach churning with guilt.

Now the doorbell rings, and somehow you already know who’s on the other side.

You open it slowly, hesitation weighing on every movement of your hand.

Heeseung stands there in a wrinkled hoodie, dark circles stamped beneath his eyes. He looks thinner—like the shape of him has caved in from the inside out. His hair is unstyled, his shoulders hunched, and the way he stares at you feels desperate.

Neither of you speak for a few seconds, the silence pressing into your lungs.

Then you break it, because you can’t handle him looking at you like that. “Why are you here?” Your voice comes out flat, echoing the numbness you’ve been living in.

Heeseung swallows, gaze skittering between your face and the ground.

“I had to see you.”

The words feel like they’re meant to fix something, but all they do is twist the knife. You give a hollow laugh, but there’s no humor in it.

“You already saw enough.”

He exhales shakily, bringing a hand up to scrub at the back of his neck.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” he says, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “I know that’s not—there’s nothing I can—” He trails off, struggling, guilt carved into every line of his face. When he finally speaks again, his voice strains.

“You think we haven’t replayed it a hundred fucking times?” he asks. “The door. The blanket. You moaning. Me—God—we were still fucking with each other right there, even when she—”

“Stop.” Your voice cracks. “Don’t say it.”

“We saw her face,” his voice keeps going, low and fast and pained. “We saw it, and we still didn’t stop, like fucking animals. I see it every time I close my eyes. I hear her say my name like I was never hers, like you were never her friend.”

You speak,

“I can’t look at you without hearing her gag.”

The confession slashes the air, and his lips part like you’ve slapped him.

“I can’t hear your name without remembering what it felt like to be in her house, in her family, doing… that, while she thought I was asleep down the hall.”

For a moment, neither of you breathe. Then he forces himself to speak, voice cracking.

“I know. I fucking know, and I hate that we didn’t let go even when we heard her. I hate that she looked at us like we were monsters. I hate that part of me still wanted to stay inside you, and part of you still wanted me there, when we should’ve both stopped.”

You close your eyes, replaying Evie’s strangled gasp in your head, recalling the numb disbelief that followed when she told you not to speak, not to look, not to fucking breathe in her direction.

“I can’t talk to you,” you whisper, voice trembling despite your best efforts. “I can’t even hear your name without feeling sick.”

He swallows and nods, like he’s been waiting for those exact words. “I’m sorry,” he says, and he sounds like he’s about to shatter. “I won’t—if you never want to see me again, I understand.” He drags in a breath that rattles in his chest. “I just needed to know you were… alive.”

For a moment, you want to ask him if he’s okay too, if he’s been eating or sleeping, if he wakes up sweating like you do. But you lock it down, because you can’t afford to care right now.

“Well,” you say, and your voice is colder than you intend, “now you’ve seen me. Congratulations.”

A faint tremor passes through him, and he nods once. There’s nothing else. No lecture, no pleading. He just steps back, shoulders slumped, and turns away.

-

It happens in the grocery store, of all places. You’re pushing a half-empty cart down the cereal aisle, trying not to think about how much quieter life has been since you lost your best friend and the boy you broke her heart with. You’re scanning the shelves for something to distract you when you catch sight of a familiar figure at the other end of the row. 

Your heart lurches, your fingers tightening on the cart handle as your stomach flips. 

Because there, frowning at the boxes of cereal, is Evie—or Heejoo, or however she wants to be called now. You don’t have time to decide whether you should turn and run or force a hollow smile. She glances up, and your eyes meet. Neither of you moves.

 The aisle feels too narrow. Her cart sits between you, an invisible barrier.

She looks different—her hair is shorter or maybe just pulled back in a careless ponytail, dark smudges under her eyes, shoulders tense. She seems hollowed out in the same way you feel. 

Some part of you wants to say hey or I miss you or please talk to me, but the words dissolve in your throat. She’s the one who steps forward first, letting her cart roll behind her. Her heels click on the tile, echoing your every heartbeat.

“Having fun?” she asks, and it doesn’t sound like a question so much as a thinly-veiled jab.

You grip the handle of your cart, mouth suddenly too dry to speak.

“Evie—”

“Don’t call me that,” she snaps, eyes flicking away like the name itself stings. “You don’t get to pretend we’re okay. You don’t get to act like we’re still friends.”

Her arms fold across her chest, nostrils flaring with each breath, and you feel your own pulse jump in your neck. “I—I’m sorry,” you manage, voice trembling. It’s not enough, you know that.

She scoffs, a breathy, humorless sound. “That’s it? You’re sorry? You think that magically fixes everything?” She gestures sharply, and you notice how tightly she’s clenching her fists. “You screwed around with my brother like it was nothing, and I walked in on—” Her voice breaks, face twisting as she fights off the memory. “I was just the idiot friend who never saw it coming, right?”

Shame flares in your cheeks. You hold your ground, though it hurts to meet her eyes. “I know I betrayed you,” you say. “We—God, I don’t even have the words for how messed up it was. We both knew better. We both let it happen.”

Her hand lifts to cut you off, shaking with the effort. “You think it’s just that you hurt me?” Her voice wobbles between anger and heartbreak. “You hurt him too, you realize that? He was my brother, you were my best friend, and you both blew yourselves up in front of me. Like you had no idea what it would cost.”

Your stomach knots in a way you haven’t felt before. She’s right. It wasn’t just her—it wasn’t just you. It was all three of you, tangling and twisting until it snapped. “I know,” you say more quietly. “And we’re all paying for it. He’s… he’s not okay. I’m not okay. And you’re definitely not okay. There’s no part of this that isn’t broken.”

She lets out a short, bitter laugh. “Do you think that helps? Hearing you say it’s broken doesn’t change the fact that I can’t even look at either of you without wanting to scream.”

You bow your head, voice almost inaudible. “I wish I could take it back.”

She swallows, and for a fraction of a second, the hostility in her eyes flickers with pain. “Well, you can’t.” Her grip tightens on the cart handle until her knuckles whiten, and she exhales shakily. 

“I want my brother back, you know. I want my friend back. But I don’t get either of those things, because you two decided to… to destroy what we had.”

Your throat closes up, tears pricking at your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

She stares for another few seconds, jaw clenched as she holds herself together. Then she moves around you, snatching her cart by the handle, the wheels squeaking in protest. 

“Enjoy the produce,” she mutters under her breath, voice dripping with bitterness as she passes.

-

It doesn’t happen overnight.

 There’s no single conversation that wipes the slate clean, no perfect gesture that makes Evie’s betrayal vanish, no magic wand that repairs the gaping wound in your chest. 

But over time—slow, grudging, step by hesitant step—you all begin to realize that staying in this darkness is killing you. Staying strangers, orbiting the same guilt without looking one another in the eye, is worse than facing the truth. And that truth is messy, fragile, and riddled with scars.

It begins with Evie texting you, late at night, a week after the grocery store encounter. 

Just three words: We need to talk.

You stare at the screen for a solid minute, heart pounding like it’s trying to break out of your chest. 

Your hands shake as you reply, Yeah, okay. 

That’s all. No apology, no second-guessing, just acceptance. You wait for her to say when or where, but she doesn’t text back until the next afternoon, telling you to meet her at the park near her house. 

And then she clarifies: Just you.

You show up after sunset, nerves jangling in every limb, expecting hostility, or silence, or both. 

Instead, you find Evie sitting on a faded wooden bench under a flickering streetlight. She looks smaller than you remember, knees drawn up under her chin, arms hugging herself for warmth. As you approach, you open your mouth to say something—anything—but she holds up a hand, shaking her head.

“Don’t,” she says, voice tight. “Not yet.”

You stand there, awkward and guilty, waiting for her permission to speak.

She lowers her hand and sighs, staring at a patch of dead grass near her feet. “I asked you here because… this is killing me,” she mutters. “Being this angry all the time. Hating you. Hating him. I can’t keep up with it. It’s turning me into someone I don’t recognize.”

Her words break something inside your chest, and your throat goes thick. You sit down on the far edge of the bench, leaving a wide space between you, unsure if you’re allowed to be any closer. “I… I know,” you manage, voice unsteady. “I feel it too. It’s like I’m rotting on the inside.”

She nods once, gaze flicking to you before sliding away again. “I’m not saying I forgive you,” she warns, and you nod, heart pounding. “I’m just saying I don’t want this to be my life anymore. This—rage. It’s not me.”

She exhales, shoulders curling inward. “And I loved you. You were my best friend. And he… he’s my brother, and I loved him too. So how did we all end up here?”

Silence lingers. You fight back tears that threaten to spill. 

“We messed up,” you whisper, voice cracking. “We both did. Me and him. We used your house, your trust, your everything for our own messed-up… needs, and it was stupid and selfish and we ended up shattering everything.” You swallow a lump in your throat. “I know none of that fixes it. But I swear to you, we never wanted to hurt you.”

Evie laughs bitterly, a hollow sound. “Well, you did. And I can’t pretend you didn’t.” 

Her gaze shifts to the distance, to the halo of light under the streetlamp. “But I don’t know if I can keep hating you. Or him.” 

She hesitates, words coming out slow. “I saw him last week. He looked—God, I hardly recognized him. Like a ghost of himself.”

You nod, biting back the urge to defend him or to ask a dozen questions. “He’s… not doing great,” you say simply, remembering his hollow cheeks, the way his voice cracked when he said he couldn’t sleep.

She wraps her arms tighter around herself, rocking slightly. “Neither are we,” she points out. “None of us are okay. And I guess that’s what I’m realizing. That we’re all stuck in the same crater, staring at the same wreckage. Maybe we shouldn’t be trying to fix it on our own.”

Your eyes burn with unshed tears. “What do you want to do?” you ask, feeling the weight of her words press into your chest.

She’s quiet for a long moment. Then she looks directly at you, tears shimmering at the edges of her eyes. “I want us to talk,” she says. “All three of us. In one place. I want us to put it all on the table, no hiding, no running out. Because if there’s any chance of moving forward—together or apart—we have to face it."

“I’ll text him,” she says, voice ragged. “Don’t expect miracles. But I can’t do this alone.”

A teardrop escapes your lashes and slips down your cheek. “Neither can I,” you whisper. “Thank you.”

She doesn’t respond, just stands up and motions for you to follow. 

-

Evie’s living room is dimly lit, and the air feels thicker than it should—as if everything you’ve said to each other in the last hour is still hovering in the space between. Outside, it’s already dark, the muffled hum of passing cars bleeding in through the windows. You’re all drained—physically, emotionally—yet no one moves to leave. Not yet. It’s not finished.

Evie is perched on the armchair, knees drawn close to her chest. You’re on one end of the couch, Heeseung on the other, and there’s still a gulf of guilt and confusion separating you. But you can feel the conversation building toward something bigger than apologies or confessions of regret.

Evie tugs at the sleeves of her sweater. She glances between you and her brother, mouth pinched tight, but her voice is gentler than before.

“I’m not pretending this is easy,” she begins, clearing her throat. “We’ve all hurt each other. I just want to know what you… what you both actually feel.” Her gaze settles on you, question clear in her eyes. “Do you two even care about each other beyond… beyond whatever it was you were doing?”

You swallow, your mouth dry. This is the moment you’ve been pushing down for weeks, refusing to think about. The reason you woke up gasping sometimes, alone in your bed, missing a warmth you never should have craved in the first place. You take a shaky breath, feeling your pulse hammer in your temples.

“I—” you begin, then stop. Your voice wavers, but you force yourself to speak. “I’m in love with him.”

It comes out bare, unpolished, stripped of excuses. You feel the words echo in your chest, leaving you vulnerable. Across the room, Evie’s eyes widen for half a second, and you can see her guard tighten, just a bit.

Heeseung exhales sharply, his head snapping up. You can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. Instead, you focus on the floor, heart pounding.

“I know,” you continue, voice trembling, “that he might not feel the same way. I know we started this all wrong, that I messed up your trust, that I hurt you”—you glance at Evie—“and maybe I don’t deserve a happy ending. But I can’t keep pretending I don’t love him just because I’m ashamed of how we got here.”

Evie inhales like she’s bracing for another blow, her arms tightening around her knees.

“You’re saying you love him, even if he doesn’t love you back?” she asks, carefully, like she’s afraid of the answer.

You let out a breath that feels like it’s been caged in your ribs for months.

“Yes. It’s not… it’s not his responsibility. If it’s one-sided, that’s on me.” You glance fleetingly at Heeseung, face flushing. “I don’t expect anything from him, or from you. I just—” Your voice cracks. “I needed to say it out loud.”

Silence envelops the room, charged with tension. Heeseung is staring at you, eyes wide and glossy, like you’ve knocked the air from his lungs. Evie shifts, chewing on the inside of her lip.

Heeseung finally speaks, voice rough.

“You… love me?”

You manage a small, trembling nod. “I do,” you say, meeting his gaze at last. “And if you don’t love me back, that’s okay. I know how messed up this is. I’m ready to… to accept that.”

He looks startled, as if no part of him expected you to be okay with that possibility. His hands flex on his knees, knuckles blanching. Then he breathes out, shoulders sagging.

“God,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievably stupid.”

You flinch, heart jolting—though there’s no real malice in his tone, only a shaky awe and raw disbelief that seems to be tying him in knots. He forces himself to meet Evie’s eyes for a flicker of a second, as if silently asking for permission to go on.

“Don’t call her that,” Evie snaps, voice quivering at the edges. She fixes him with a sharp glare, arms folded tight across her chest. “I don’t care how you meant it—she’s not stupid, and you don’t get to insult her in front of me.”

“Shut the fuck up Evie, one second,” He turns to you, “Because you think I’m not in love with you? That I’d leave you hanging with all this guilt?”

Your heart stutters, the floor tilting under you. “Heeseung…”

“I’m in love with you too,” he says, and the words hang in the air with tangible weight. “I can’t believe you’d be ready to walk away, believing it was one-sided. That you’d… accept it. God, do you have any idea how much it hurts to see you in so much pain, thinking I don’t feel the same?”

A soft sound escapes your throat—some blend of relief and shock—and tears gather at the edges of your vision. Across the room, Evie exhales shakily, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. You can see the swirl of emotions crossing her features: anger, hurt, jealousy, and underneath it all, a lingering care for you both.

Heeseung scrubs a hand over his face, then looks to Evie, voice trembling.

“I love her. I know I messed up. We messed up. We never should’ve lied. But I can’t take back how I feel.”

Evie drags in a deep breath. She pushes herself up from the armchair, pacing a short line across the living room. Her head is down, hands in her hair. When she finally looks at you both, there’s pain in her eyes, but not the same raw fury as before.

“Jesus,” she mutters. “You two…” She chews the inside of her cheek. “I hate what you did. I hate how you did it. But if you love each other—really love each other—I can’t tell you not to.”

 Her shoulders slump. “I want to be angry forever, but… seeing you like this, I—” She presses her lips together, tears brimming, then sets her jaw. “I guess I just want us to find a way to exist without destroying each other.”

A thick silence fills the space. Your chest feels ready to burst from conflicting emotions—gratitude, guilt, longing, terror. You look at Evie and see the ghost of the best friend you once knew, who might be willing to stand beside you again one day, even if it won’t ever be the same.

You open your mouth.

“I know it won’t be easy,” you say softly. “I don’t expect you to forgive everything in one night. But maybe… maybe we can start moving forward?”

Evie dashes a tear off her cheek and gives a tiny nod.

“Yeah,” she whispers. “Maybe.”

Heeseung watches her, watches you, then rises from the couch. He hesitates, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch you. You stand up, heart pounding, and drift closer. Neither of you quite meets in the middle, leaving a careful gap where all your remorse hangs. But it’s less than before.

Evie clears her throat, hugging herself.

“I can’t stay down here with you two being… whatever you are. I need time, okay?”

You nod quickly.

“Of course.”

Heeseung nods as well, voice soft.

“Anything you need.”

She steps back, wiping her eyes, and there’s a hint of a weary smile ghosting across her face, like she’s relieved but not sure how to show it.

“You two can talk, or… or go, or do whatever. I just…” Her breath catches. “I’m gonna go upstairs. That’s all I can handle right now.”

You don’t stop her.

Then you turn to him, tears slipping down your cheeks, a tremulous hope fluttering in your chest. He lifts a hand—tentative, like he’s scared to break you—and cups your cheek, thumb brushing your damp skin.

He exhales shakily.

“I love you,” he murmurs, the words raw with emotion. “I’m sorry for everything.”

You nod, voice catching in your throat as you rest your hand over his.

“I’m sorry too,” you whisper. “But I love you, and maybe… that’s something we can start with.”

His eyes close in something like relief, and he presses a soft, uncertain kiss to your temple. It isn’t a triumphant moment, not the kind of romantic victory you might’ve once imagined. It’s tender, laced with guilt and fear. But it’s also real—genuine and fragile, the only piece of warmth you’ve had in a long time.

-

Things shift slowly, almost imperceptibly at first. You and Heeseung start keeping your distance whenever Evie’s around—no subtle hand-holding, no lingering touches, certainly no sneaking off to lock yourselves behind the nearest door. 

It’s not that you’re ashamed of each other; it’s that you can’t stand the thought of rubbing your relationship in her face. You both know you’re lucky she’s even letting you in the same room without storming out.

So you dial it back. You let your bodies stop running the show. 

It’s harder than you expect—he still sets your nerves on fire by simply looking at you—but you remind yourself that Evie’s feelings matter, that you owe her more than just half-hearted consideration. You give her space, which means giving yourselves space too. 

No sex. No heavy make-out sessions. No pressed-up-against-a-wall confessions. Just… time and gentle contact.

Heeseung seems as restless as you. 

Sometimes, when it’s late and you’re on a phone call—whispering so Evie won’t hear through the walls—he sounds downright desperate. 

You can hear his breath catch when you say you miss him, can practically feel the tension radiating through the receiver. 

Yet both of you agree: this is how it has to be for now. If you want Evie to believe that what you have is more than just an addiction to each other’s bodies, you need to show her you can exist outside a bed.

So you go on dates. Real dates. Movie theaters, yes, but also bookstore trips, late-night drives to nowhere, strolling through a local fair when it rolls into town. 

You hold hands only if you’re well away from Evie’s neighborhood—fearful that any small sign of affection might break the thin thread of tolerance she’s extended. 

The first time you walk along the riverside in the evening, sipping cheap coffee from a convenience store, it hits you that you’ve never really done this part before: the tentative, day-to-day romance of building a real relationship. It’s both comforting and nerve-wracking. 

You can feel the charge sparking under your skin every time he smiles at you, like you’re seconds away from losing your careful resolve. 

But you don’t. Neither of you wants to risk undoing the fragile progress with Evie.

And that progress is slow, but present. 

She doesn’t cringe as much when you and Heeseung enter a room together. 

She no longer flinches if you happen to stand on the same side of the kitchen.

 Maybe sometimes she rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t snap. You see the tension in her shoulders when you’re all in the same space, though—like she’s bracing for some new betrayal. 

You can’t blame her. You still offer to leave the moment you sense her discomfort rising. Surprisingly, she’s started telling you to stay.

But the real sign that things might be healing comes one weekend night when Evie texts you, out of the blue:

Girls’ night?

She doesn’t dress it up with a cute emoji or an explanation; it’s bare bones, almost clinical. And you stare at your phone with your heart hammering, wondering if this is a test, or maybe a begrudging olive branch. 

You answer with a shaky yes, and spend the next few hours trying not to read too much into it. You tell Heeseung you’ll be hanging out with Evie, and he just smiles—wide and genuine, telling you to have fun, to text him if you need anything.

Evie’s room hasn’t changed much since the night you snuck out of it to see Heeseung. The layout is the same, the posters the same, the bedspread the same. It all feels loaded with history. 

She sits cross-legged on her bed, handing you a soda—no alcohol tonight, no false bravado. You sense she wants you both stone-cold sober for whatever might be said. 

There’s an awkward pause, and then she gestures for you to sit, too.

For a while, conversation comes in bursts: updates about random classmates, stories from her day at work, small talk about the show you both used to binge-watch together. It’s stiff, but not hostile. 

She picks at her blanket, and you notice how she won’t hold your gaze for too long. Yet each minute that passes without snapping or bitterness feels like a victory.

Eventually, she slides a bag of nail polish across the bed toward you. “You, um… you still like doing this, right? It’s been a while,” she mumbles, glancing at your nails. 

It’s such a small gesture, but it makes your throat tighten. You nod, and she exhales something that might be relief. 

For a solid hour, the two of you paint and chatter, as if practicing how to be friends again. Her shoulders are less rigid. You’re careful not to misstep. Neither of you mentions Heeseung.

At least not directly. But you feel his presence in the air, the unspoken pivot point around which your every interaction revolves. It’s only when Evie finally fixes you with a long, assessing look, half-concern and half-uncertainty, that the moment arrives.

“Are you two, like… okay?” she asks. Her voice is laced with discomfort, but there’s no hatred in it. “You said no more sneaking around. But are you—happy?”

You swallow hard, carefully blowing on your newly painted nails. “We’re… doing our best,” you say. “Trying to be good for each other. Not just physically.”

She nods, lips twisting like she’s turning over your words in her mind. “I guess… that’s what I wanted to know,” she admits softly. “It still weirds me out sometimes, but I’d rather it matter to you than be some… fling.”

A wave of gratitude surges in your chest, making it hard to speak. You nod. “It matters,” you whisper. “I swear.”

She blinks a few times, then sets her nail polish aside. The tension in her shoulders relaxes just enough that her spine curves against the headboard, more comfortable than you’ve seen her in weeks. “Good,” she murmurs, tone stilted but earnest. “Don’t… don’t make me regret trying to rebuild this, okay?”

Your own shoulders slump in relief. “I won’t,” you promise. Your voice shakes with the weight of it. “And if I ever do, you can—and should—kick my ass.”

That draws a small, genuine laugh from her—a sound you haven’t heard in what feels like ages. She nods, letting the humor fill the space that was once suffocating with tension. “Deal,” she says.

You stay up later than expected—talking about nonsense, painting your nails in mismatched colors, occasionally lapsing into awkward silences. 

But each time, one of you breaks it before the air can go stale. By the time midnight rolls around, you’ve settled into a strange new normal: not quite what you were before the betrayal, but not strangers anymore. Something between you is mending, fragile but real.

When you leave, she walks you to the front door. It’s still weird, stepping out into the hallway where so much damage happened. 

But Evie’s behind you, not in front, and you can’t help feeling that the dynamic has changed in a way that actually might last. You glance back at her, and though she still looks tired, she doesn’t look hostile or betrayed. Maybe just… cautious. It’s enough.

“Night,” she says, one hand resting on the doorknob.

“Night,” you reply, voice quiet. “Thanks, again.”

She nods and closes the door gently behind you—no slamming, no huffing. Just a simple, private goodbye.

 As you slip into the night, you realize you’re smiling, mind already whirring with what you’ll tell Heeseung when you see him next. You catch yourself wondering if you’ll meet up for another date soon. Or if you’ll just call him on the way home, excitedly spilling the details of your slow but tangible progress with Evie.

-

The new place is barely furnished. A couch that’s still covered in plastic. A mattress on the floor. Takeout containers littering the kitchen counter. The floorboards creak with every step. The windows are wide open, and there are no curtains yet. It’s not home—not really—but it’s his. 

And most importantly, it’s finally, blessedly, fucking private.

When he opens the door and lets you in, he doesn’t kiss you right away. He just watches you step inside like you’re something he’s trying to memorize. His hands stay in the pocket of his hoodie. His jaw’s tight. His eyes flicker to the bag in your hand, then to your shoes, then up your legs so slowly it makes you feel exposed even though you’re still fully dressed.

You don’t say anything at first. You set the wine down on the counter. You take in the space—empty and echoing—but your skin’s already buzzing. You hear the door close behind you with a soft click, and something shifts.

He clears his throat.

“I haven’t kissed you yet,” he says, voice low. “Not really.”

You turn to look at him. “No.”

There’s a beat.

“Can I?”

You nod.

And that’s it. That’s all it takes.

His hands are on your face before you can blink, warm and rough and needing. The kiss starts soft, but only for a breath. Then it turns—hungry, desperate, filthy. Your back hits the counter with a thud, his tongue already in your mouth, his body pressing into yours like he’s trying to crawl inside you through your lips.

You moan into him, and he groans, deep in his throat, like the sound broke whatever shred of self-control he was hanging onto.

“You have no idea,” he pants, mouth hot against your jaw, “how long I’ve wanted to ruin you in peace.”

Your shirt’s pulled up before you can answer, his mouth already sucking marks down your neck. His hands are everywhere—gripping your tits through your bra, unbuttoning your jeans, fingers slipping into your waistband like he owns the place. Like he owns you.

You gasp as his hand slides between your legs, cupping you through your underwear, his breath catching when he feels the heat there.

“Already wet?” he mutters, voice ragged. “Fucking knew it.”

He yanks your jeans down to your ankles, then sinks to his knees on the kitchen tile without another word. His hands push your legs apart, pulling one up to rest over his shoulder. And when his mouth presses to the soaked fabric of your panties, you cry out—sharp, helpless, needy.

“You wore these knowing I’d take them off with my teeth, didn’t you?” he growls, dragging the fabric aside with his nose, his tongue already lapping through your folds like he’s been waiting for this for months.

You can barely breathe. One hand flies to the counter for balance, the other fists in his hair. He licks you with obscene, wet sounds, groaning into your pussy like the taste is sending him over the edge. You grind against his face shamelessly, whining when he flattens his tongue and drags it up through your slit, over and over again.

“Fuck, Heeseung—please—”

He pulls back just enough to spit directly on your clit. “What do you need, baby?” he pants, thumb spreading it around with tight, deliberate pressure. “You want me to make you cum with my mouth like a good little whore? Is that it?”

You nod frantically, hips rocking against his hand.

“I missed this pussy,” he mutters, diving back in. “Missed how fucking loud she is.”

And she is. Your pussy’s wet, sloppy, noisy, every flick of his tongue echoing off the bare walls. You cum hard, legs shaking around his shoulders, crying out his name as your vision blurs.

But he’s not done.

He stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, then grabs you by the waist and turns you around, bending you over the counter.

“No more pretending,” he growls in your ear. “No more quiet. You’re gonna scream for me this time.”

He pulls your panties down and spreads you open, groaning like a man unhinged.

“God, you’re dripping. You fucking missed this too, didn’t you?”

You try to answer, but he’s already stroking his cock against your folds, rubbing the head through the mess between your legs, smearing it everywhere.

“Say it,” he demands.

“Yes—yes, I missed it—fuck, Heeseung, I missed your cock—”

He sinks into you in one sharp, brutal thrust, and you wail.

No condom. No pause. Just the stretch of him filling you up in one smooth, devastating stroke.

“Oh my God,” he groans. “You’re fucking swallowing me.”

You’re moaning, writhing, drooling onto the counter. He doesn’t start slow. He doesn’t give you time. He fucks you—relentless, pounding, like he’s been waiting to do this since the moment you first touched him.

Your ass slaps against his thighs with every thrust. Your pussy is loud, the kind of wet, messy squelch that would embarrass you if you could think.

He slaps your ass hard, making you jolt forward. “Listen to her,” he growls. “She’s been crying for me.”

You don’t stop him. You beg for more.

He grabs your arms and pulls you back onto him, using your own body to fuck you harder.

“Keep taking it,” he snarls. “Be my good little cumrag, just like you used to be.”

You scream. You scream for him.

You cum again, sobbing into the crook of your arm, your entire body trembling.

He pulls out and flips you around, lifts you up onto the counter again, and kisses you like he’s devouring you from the inside out. Your legs are trembling so hard you can barely hold them up, but he spreads them open and spits straight onto your cunt, rubbing it in with two fingers, moaning when you jolt at the sensitivity.

“Wanna fuck you on the floor next,” he mutters against your lips. “Wanna fuck you on the mattress, on the couch, against every wall. Wanna ruin this apartment with the sound of your pussy screaming for me.”

You grab his face, breath ragged. “Then do it.”

He throws you over his shoulder and carries you to the mattress on the floor, where he fucks you in every position he’s ever imagined. He keeps you cockdrunk and leaking. When your voice gives out, he fucks you in silence. When your legs stop working, he props them up and keeps going. And when he finally cums—inside you, deep, claiming—he doesn’t pull out.

He just collapses on top of you, both of you drenched in sweat and slick and the aftermath of something feral.

You can’t move.

You don’t want to.

You just lie there, shaking, full, used, satisfied in a way that makes you dizzy.

Heeseung kisses your shoulder and whispers against your skin.

“I’m never being patient again.”

-

TL: @naurwayyyyy @ziiao @somuchdard @ijustwannareadstuff20 @ddolleri @beariegyu @zzhengyu @annybah @seonhoon @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @mellowgalaxystrawberry @inlovewithningning @vveebee @m3wkledreamy @lovelycassy @highway-143 @koizekomi @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @cristy-101 @bloomiize @dearestdreamies @enhaverse713586 @cybe4ss @starniras @wonuziex @sol3chu @simj4k3

[wonnienyang]

taste of indulgence - sjy, pjs

CHAPTER 5 - TOO SWEET

They say three’s a crowd, but for Jay, Jake, and you—it’s starting to feel something closer to home. Love was never meant to be this simple, this natural, but with them, it’s loud in the best ways, a little chaotic, deeply tender, and a little too sweet to ever let go.

content tags: slice of life, established relationship, mc backstory, jayke backstory, fluff, fluff and little bit of angst, then fluff. timeskip, this chapter is corny but at least it's happy ending. and! take time to read my note at the end pls.

explicit content (smut): vaginal and anal fingering, cunnilingus, rimming, unprotected sex, threesome (dom jake, dom jay x sub reader) somnophilia, blowjob, slightly dub con, double penetration, unprotected anal sex (fxm), mxm scenes, multiple sex position. MDNI. WC: 18.2K

want a taste?

4 YEARS AGO

JAKE grinned ear to ear, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as his gaze swept over the crowd. The music was loud, the lights erratic, and people were already spilling drinks and laughing too loud but Jake loved it.

This was exactly what he pictured college to be.

"Baby, are you excited for the first day of school?" he asked brightly, turning to face his boyfriend. Jay stood beside him with a disinterested scowl, arms loosely crossed, his eyes scanning the mass of dancing bodies with veiled judgment.

Jake bumped his shoulder playfully, trying to coax a smile out of him. "Come on. Parties like this existed in high school too. Don't act like you've never seen drunk teenagers twerking to bad remixes."

Jay raised an eyebrow at him, deadpan. "I didn't attend parties. This is my first time."

Jake blinked, surprised. "Wait, seriously?"

Jay nodded, then glanced back toward the crowd with a look of mild disgust. "And it's gross."

Jake laughed, slinging an arm over his shoulder. "You're such a grandpa. Come on, just pretend you're having fun."

Jay sighed but didn't resist when Jake intertwined their fingers, pulling him gently through the throng of sweaty bodies and flashing lights. His grip tightened protectively as people bumped into them left and right.

Then came the chant from the far end of the room, loud and synchronized over the music: "Go, bad bitch, go bad bitch go! Go, bad bitch, go bad bitch go!"

Jake's eyes lit up immediately, he grinned, tugging Jay toward the source of the chaos. Jay hesitated for a split second, but followed.

The crowd had formed a loose circle around the center of the living room. Phones were out, people laughing and cheering, hyping up whoever was in the spotlight. And there, in the middle—was you.

You were lying flat on a makeshift bar table, skin glowing under the colored lights, a lime wedge resting between your lips. Two other girls leaned in, each on either side of you. One was licking a trail of salt up from your stomach, the other from the base of your neck. The moment the salt was gone, they dove in, mouths finding yours together to take the lime between their teeth.

The crowd erupted. Phones flashed. Drunken hollers echoed. Someone near Jay screamed, "Holy fuck, she's wild!"

Jake whooped, clapping his hands. Jay, on the other hand, just stood there, his mouth slightly ajar. And neither of them looked away.

The rest of the party blurred by after that. And somehow, Jake stayed surprisingly clear-headed. His tolerance had always been higher than most. Jay kept his hands shoved in his pockets, back pressed to the wall, his usual role as Jake's quiet shadow. He didn't like parties, but he stayed—for Jake.

Later that night, as the house began to quiet and bodies thinned, a senior stumbled down the hallway, trying to prop you up in his arms. You were clearly out of it—eyes half-lidded, mumbling incoherently, limbs too loose.

"Please," the senior slurred, gesturing to the others with one hand while the other barely kept you upright. "Her dorm's just across from the school. My car's full. I can't take her."

Jay narrowed his eyes instantly. Then another guy tried to step in. "Hey! I don't trust my best friend with some stranger. You're dumb as hell. I'll take her." His hand slid around your waist but missed its mark as he nearly toppled over himself.

Jake was already moving. "Alright," he said smoothly, stepping between you and the two drunks. "We've got her."

"Don't worry about it," Jay said flatly, already reaching for your arm.

Jake crouched in front of you, grinning softly. "Hey there, party queen. Time to go, yeah?" You blinked slowly, confused, but didn't resist when Jake turned and let you slump over his back. He hooked his arms under your thighs, carrying you.

Sunoo appeared around the corner at that exact moment, also tipsy and clinging to Jay's shoulder for balance. "H-hey! Don't forget about me, you assholes," he slurred, his cheek pressed to Jay's arm.

Jay sighed, feeling Sunoo's weight. He looked at Jake, who was now adjusting you more securely onto his back.

"This is not how I thought tonight would go," Jay muttered, earning a soft laugh from Jake.

But still, neither of them complained.

"That was you?!"

Your eyes widened in disbelief as you stared at Jake, who was casually popping a marshmallow into his mouth, already mid-laugh.

"Yup!" he said, chewing with a grin. "I didn't even remember it until Jay brought it up again. He was the one who recognized you."

You let out a breathless laugh, pointing at him with an accusing finger. "Oh my God—that's so weird! There's a name for that, right? When something connects later, after the fact..."

Jake raised an eyebrow, still grinning. "You mean fate?"

"No, no, not fate. Like... a theory. Something about timing, or patterns—ugh, what is it called?" You tapped your temple, your brows furrowed as you struggled to catch the slippery thought.

Jay, who had been quietly lounging nearby, finally spoke up in his usual calm, dry tone. "Red string theory?"

You turned toward him, eyes lighting up. "Yes! That! The one about people being connected by an invisible red string, right? No matter the time, place, or circumstances."

Jake raised an eyebrow, smirking around the marshmallow he was chewing. "Wow, look at Jay getting all romantic."

Jay rolled his eyes but didn't deny it. "Just answering the question."

You grinned, leaning back on your hands as the warmth from the fire flickered across your face. "Kind of wild, though. Like... what are the chances that it was you two who carried me back that night? I didn't even remember your faces."

Jake let out a laugh, tossing another marshmallow into his mouth. "Yeah, but that's so corny."

You whipped your head toward him, offended. "Excuse me? The nerve of you to even say the word corny to me!"

Jake only grinned wider, catching you in one of his spontaneous bear hugs, nuzzling his cold nose against your cheek. A habit of his.

It had been two months now since you'd made it official—the three of you. A real relationship. And it still felt surreal sometimes, like you were walking through someone else's dream. But the dream never burst. It just kept unfolding, piece by piece.

Unlike the early days, you had begun to notice more. More about them.

Jake always nuzzled his nose against your cheek when he was especially happy or needy. It was his way of grounding himself. He still clung like a koala in his sleep, and the more affectionate he was during the day, the more clingy he became at night.

Jay, on the other hand, didn't smother. But he paid attention. He remembered the flavor of non-coffee drink you liked without asking. Always gave you the last bite. Always checked if your charger was plugged in or if you had your meds in your bag. He wouldn't say sweet words often, but it showed in the quietest ways—like warming your side of the bed when you went to shower, or silently making your favorite coffee just the way you liked it without a word.

Though you still lived separately, your things had slowly begun to gather in their apartment—spare clothes folded in their drawers, your skincare beside the sink. Most of your nights ended there, tangled in the sheets of Jay's bed, wrapped between the two of them.

Finals were over. You were technically on break now, waiting for your internship assignments to be announced. It gave you more time with them.

Polyamory still wasn't something you felt fully comfortable sharing publicly. People had opinions. Judgments. And while you weren't ashamed of your relationship, you weren't ready to offer it up for scrutiny either. But Jake and Jay—God, they made sure you never had to feel small or hidden.

If you held Jake's hand in public, Jay held your other. If someone stared too long, Jay would narrow his eyes and Jake would kiss your cheek just to spite them. They protected you from the outside world in quiet ways. And somehow, that made it easier to keep going.

Because every relationship needs communication.

But yours needed more than that.

You were the type of girl who overthought everything. The kind who cried over imaginary scenarios at 2 a.m., the kind who spiraled in her head over a misread emoji. But Jay and Jake had never once made you feel like a third wheel—never once made you question if you were wanted.

If anything, they had a way of anchoring you when your own mind started pulling you under.

Jake was always the first to notice. He'd tilt his head, study your face for a few seconds, and then, without saying a word, climb into your lap, wrap himself around you, and whisper something stupid like, "You look like you're thinking evil thoughts again." And somehow, his playful teasing would melt the anxiety before it could take root.

Jay's approach was different. He didn't ask what was wrong. He'd just pull you to his side, rest your head on his chest, and let his fingers stroke your hair until the noise in your brain dulled to a hum. He wouldn't pry, but if you started to talk, he'd listen. Not interrupt. Not dismiss. Just... listen.

That's how it worked, somehow.

Jake was sunshine, so warm, chaotic, and always moving.

Jay was moonlight, so quiet, steady, and always present.

And you... you were still trying to understand how two people like that had managed to wrap themselves around your life so effortlessly.

It wasn't always easy. Sometimes, you panicked over little things—if they spent too much time alone without you, if they didn't text back fast enough, if Jake seemed too tired or Jay seemed too distant.

But then Jake would crawl into your lap during movie night and demand kisses like a spoiled puppy, or Jay would press a coffee into your hands in the morning and quietly say, "It's been steeped for five minutes. I know you like it stronger," and all the doubt would dissolve.

They never made you ask for love. They just gave it. In ways you were still learning how to receive without guilt.

Sometimes you would lie in bed between them, one of Jake's arms draped across your waist, Jay's fingers brushing the curve of your thigh, and you'd just stare at the ceiling and wonder how the hell this became your life.

How the hell you went from crying alone in your dorm bed, convinced love wasn't something that came easily for girls like you... to waking up between two people who made you feel like the sun never set when you were around.

In your relationship, solo moments with each of them were fine—you'd communicated that early on. Sometimes, it was just you and Jay, or just you and Jake. But what you loved most was when the three of you were together. That's when it felt the most whole. The most right.

Sex was inevitable, of course. Desire had long since stopped being subtle between the three of you. But you preferred it when it was all of you, when they were both there, touching you, watching each other, and you.

You were sprawled across Jay's mattress, your breath catching as you blinked up at the ceiling. Sweat clung to your skin, the aftershocks of your orgasm still tingling through your limbs. Jake lay beside you, flushed and grinning, his chest rising and falling in slow rhythm.

"Huh? We're not going to do another round?" you asked breathlessly, lifting your head as your arm flopped over Jake's chest. "I still have energy..."

Jay, who was already standing by the bed, glanced over his shoulder with a raised brow. "You say that now, but you were shaking ten minutes ago."

"I always shake after!" you countered, voice pitching up into a whine. "I can go again. Please?"

Jay shook his head with an amused exhale, grabbing a towel and returning to the bed. He knelt beside you, gently guiding you to lie on your back. "You got diagnosed with low blood sugar last month, remember?" he murmured, dabbing sweat from your brow. "We're not pushing it. Not tonight."

"But I'm not even that tired," you pouted, reaching out to tug at his wrist as he wiped you down. Your eyes flicked toward Jake, who just burst out laughing.

"She's doing it again," Jake chuckled, brushing your hair back from your face. "Trying to act all bratty after coming twice."

You stuck your tongue out at him, still sulking. "It's not bratty if I mean it. I'm literally telling you what I want."

"Yeah?" Jay leaned down, lips brushing your temple. "Well, I want you to stop being hardheaded."

You huffed. "That's unfair."

In those times, you noticed how Jay and Jake would always bicker over the smallest things. At first, you thought Jay was too mature to even entertain those petty arguments. He always carried himself with such calm, measured detachment. But that image of him shifted entirely the day they started fighting over a Lego set you had randomly bought for fun.

It was supposed to be a relaxing evening, just the three of you lounging around the apartment after dinner. You pulled out the box with a grin, half-joking when you said, "Let's see if we can finish this without throwing hands."  You had no idea you were basically handing them a fuse and a match.

Jake immediately dived into the pieces like an overexcited child, sorting bricks. "We're starting with the base," he declared, laying out the instructions.

"No, we should build the smaller sections first," Jay countered, already pulling pieces aside, ignoring Jake entirely.

"Jay," Jake said slowly, narrowing his eyes, "you always do this. We follow my lead, and the thing turns out perfect."

"Says the guy who made the Millennium Falcon with an upside-down cockpit," Jay replied dryly, not even looking up.

You sat back on the floor, biting your lip to stifle a laugh as they bickered like a married couple over Lego.

Jay's brows were furrowed in intense concentration, silently studying the instruction manual. Meanwhile, Jake grew more animated by the second, gesturing with tiny plastic bricks in his hand.

"That piece doesn't go there," Jay said flatly, not looking up.

Jake scoffed. "It's a spaceship. We can be creative."

"This isn't abstract expressionism, it's an architectural set. You can't just freestyle a spaceship onto a French café."

"It's called innovation," Jake replied, sticking the rogue brick in anyway with a triumphant grin.

You sipped your drink, amused, watching the war unfold.

But it didn't end with Lego. No, their domestic chaos knew no bounds.

Take cooking, for example.

It always started with innocent intentions—"Let's cook dinner together," Jake would chirp, and you'd foolishly think it was a good idea.

Until Jay started cutting the vegetables.

"You're cutting it wrong," Jake muttered one time, hovering behind him.

Jay paused, knife halfway through a carrot. "There's a wrong way to cut something into cubes?"

"Yeah," Jake said, grabbing another knife. "You're not respecting the angles. Look—like this."

Jay raised an eyebrow. "It's dinner,"

You tried to offer a diplomatic smile as both of them now had knives and were demonstrating their cutting styles with increasing passive-aggression. Jake's "angles" turned into tiny artistic cubes. Jay's "efficiency" turned into thick slices. And somehow, in the end, you were the one cleaning up carrot peels from the floor while both of them stood back, arms crossed, debating culinary theory.

They fought like cats in a paper bag over the most ridiculous things but it was all in good fun. It never lasted. The bickering always ended with Jay rolling his eyes, Jake kissing his cheek with an exaggerated mwah, and you sandwiched between the two of them, watching it all.

You loved it. You loved the chaos, the noise, the warmth of it all. And maybe, you thought, that's what love looked like for the three of you.

A little loud. A little messy. And just right.

Well, in every relationship, there comes a time when a little space becomes necessary. A moment to breathe, to realize that even when you move as a unit, sometimes individual paths need to unfold.

You hadn't realized how tightly the three of you had wound yourselves together, how naturally it had become "we" instead of "I" until now.

"You're not going to continue the internship?" you asked, blinking in surprise, staring at Jake.

Jake adjusted his glasses nervously, avoiding your gaze. You turned toward Jay, who stood silently halfway up the stairs, one hand braced on the railing. He met your gaze with a resigned shrug, as if he didn't have the right words either.

"You passed the exam," you said gently, trying to piece it together. "Jay's the only one assigned to a different clinic. Why, baby? Is something bothering you?"

Jake exhaled a long breath, his shoulders drooping. Without a word, he plopped onto the sofa, his lips pressing into a tight pout. Behind his glasses, you saw the familiar shimmer of tears. He was trying to keep it together, but his emotions betrayed him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, voice cracking at the edges.

Your heart clenched painfully. You quickly sat down next to him, your hand instinctively reaching for his.

"Fifteen to twenty hours per week," you said softly, squeezing his hand. "We can do that. Are you... are you getting anxious again?"

You knew Jake's history with his own self-doubt, how sometimes he spiraled into believing he wasn't good enough no matter what he did. How the pressure to "keep up" gnawed at him until he felt hollow.

He hesitated for a long moment before finally speaking. "I don't think I like Psychology anymore," he admitted, his voice so small it barely made it to your ears.

"But Jake, it's only one year left—" The words stumbled out automatically, and the moment they left your mouth, you wished you could snatch them back.

Jake's face crumpled slightly, and you mentally slapped yourself. God, stupid. He doesn't need pressure. He needs understanding.

You exhaled shakily, leaning your forehead against his shoulder. "I'm sorry," you whispered. "I didn't mean that. You're allowed to change your mind. You're allowed to choose what's right for you."

Jay came down the stairs slowly, sitting on Jake's other side without a word. Jake sniffled, rubbing the sleeve of his hoodie against his nose. "I just feel like... like I'm failing," he mumbled.

"You're not failing," Jay said. "You're just being honest with yourself. That's a hell of a lot braver than forcing yourself to stay somewhere you don't belong."

You nodded against Jake's shoulder, feeling the truth of Jay's words settle deep in your chest.

Jake hiccupped a little laugh through his tears, shaking his head. His hands twisted nervously in the hem of his hoodie, and you hated the way he looked so small in that moment, like a boy trying too hard to be okay.

"I'm sorry," Jake whispered, his voice breaking again. "I know we planned everything. We talked about graduating together. About celebrating at the beach after..." His words trailed off, his eyes glossing over with more tears that slipped freely down his cheeks.

Without thinking, you reached up, adjusting his glasses with careful fingers, brushing the tears from his face. Your thumb swiped under his eyes gently.

"We can still do that," you said firmly, giving him the softest smile. "Graduation. The beach. All of it. Nothing has to change just because your path does."

Jake blinked at you, as if the possibility of still being loved, still being included, hadn't even crossed his mind. "You're not leaving us behind," you added, a little choked up yourself. "We're still doing everything, together. Always."

Jake let out a shaky breath, finally tipping forward, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His arms came around you tightly. Jay shifted closer, one large hand resting between Jake's shoulder blades, his other hand found yours where it rested against Jake's back, linking your fingers together.

You closed your eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by the swell in your chest. "I love you," you whispered, so quietly you weren't sure at first if they heard it.

Jake pulled back instantly, his eyes wide and stunned, still glistening with tears that clung stubbornly to his lashes.

"D-Did you just say you love me?!" he burst out, his voice wobbling, a new kind of shine lighting up his whole face.

You blinked at him, your own tears slipping down freely now. "Why?" you sniffed, wiping your nose clumsily. "Did I never say those words before?"

Jake immediately turned his head toward Jay, still clutching your hand, his whole body practically vibrating with emotion. "No! She never said it! Right, babe?"

Jay, who usually kept his emotions tucked neatly behind a cool exterior, looked just as rattled. He gave a small, stunned nod, his lips parting like he couldn't believe it either.

"Say it again!" Jake begged, bouncing a little in place. You laughed through your tears, your heart swelling, cracking wide open as you threw your arms around both of them.

"I love you!" you shouted, your voice ringing out.

Jake made a choked sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh, tackling you backward onto the couch, peppering kisses all over your cheeks, forehead, anywhere he could reach.

Jay leaned over you both, quieter but smiling that rare, soft smile you loved so much. He cupped your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze.

"I love you too," he murmured, his thumb brushing tenderly across your cheek. "Both of you."

You had gotten so used to the three of you moving along the same path—same direction, same goals—that it almost felt foreign now to see it change.

But love wasn't about charging toward the same finish line at the same speed. It wasn't a race. It was about adjusting your pace, slowing down when someone needed more time, waiting without resentment, walking forward together even when the road split for a while.

And that was okay.

"So, he's planning on taking Physics now?" Sunoo mumbled around a mouthful of sandwich, crumbs spilling onto his sleeve as you walked together across the campus avenue, the late afternoon sun dipping low behind the buildings.

"Technically, he's not exactly back to being a first-year," Wonyoung pointed out, sipping on her milk tea as she balanced her phone in her other hand. "Most of his minor subjects are credited. He just has to take the major ones now."

"Irregular student life," Sunghoon grumbled beside Sunoo, gnawing on his chicken skewer. He squinted up at the sky like the very thought of coursework exhausted him. "He'll do fine though. He looks like the quiet, hardworking type."

Sunoo turned his head with a dramatic blink. "Silent? Who are you even talking about?"

"Jake? One of her boyfriends," Sunghoon said casually, waving his skewer toward you. "The one with the birthmark on his neck?"

You opened your mouth to correct him but Sunoo beat you to it, rolling his eyes so hard. "That's Jay, dumbass. Jake's the one who won't shut up about fucking Pokémon."

Wonyoung snorted into her drink, while you just laughed. They were teasing, sure. But there was something grounding about it, too. Like your relationship, no matter how unconventional, It was accepted without any weirdness among your closest friends.

Maybe that's what love looked like too. Not just inside the relationship, but outside of it—the way it wove itself into the spaces between you and the people you cared about.

You exhaled, a small, breathless laugh escaping you. "Sigh, I can't believe we're graduating," you said, shifting the strap higher on your shoulder as the four of you—Sunoo, Wonyoung, Sunghoon, and you—strolled toward the parking lot.

"I can't believe I survived without strangling a professor," Sunoo deadpanned, earning a chuckle from Wonyoung.

It was surreal. You still remembered crying in a ramen aisle. That version of you felt so far away now, like someone else entirely. Not because things were magically easy, but because you'd made it through, with them.

Time passed. Like it always does. Jay and you dove into your internships, different clinics, and long hours. Meanwhile, Jake transferred universities and somehow made himself busier, picking up part-time hours at a convenience store near campus, despite not needing the money.

"For experience," he'd said with a casual shrug when you asked. Then ruffled your hair and kissed your forehead before slipping out the door.

On a rainy Wednesday, you found yourself in Jay's apartment, the air filled with the scent of steak that he cooked and the faint hum of your laptop fan. You were standing behind him, your thumbs digging into his shoulders as he sat at the edge of the bed, posture slouched, brows drawn tight in pure exhaustion.

"Where are you even assigned?" you asked with your voice soft. "You look like you've been carrying the entire hospital on your back."

Jay groaned low in his throat as you hit a particularly stiff knot. His eyes fluttered closed, and he tilted his head slightly to the side. "Intake assessments and psych evaluations," he muttered. "A couple of the psychologists are already hinting they want me on the team."

You raised a brow, intrigued. "So... master's track?"

He tilted his chin up just enough to meet your gaze. "I don't know," he admitted. "Honestly? I only took psychology in the first place because I wanted to follow Jake. I never really had a plan past that."

Your hands slowed, thumbs stilling on his skin as you searched for the right words. Vulnerability wasn't something Jay handed out freely and it made this moment feel heavier, more fragile.

"You don't have to decide now," you said softly, stepping closer so your chest touched his back. "Let's just take the licensure exam together first. You can figure the rest out after."

Jay didn't say anything at first, but his hand reached up to find yours, his fingers lacing through yours in a quiet thank you. It was one of those moments where everything felt deeper than words.

You rested your cheek against his shoulder, wrapping your arms fully around him in a warm back hug. "It's been a while since we let ourselves just rest," you whispered, nuzzling gently into the curve of his neck. "Let's take it slow today."

Jay hummed in agreement, leaning into your touch. "We can go shopping tomorrow," he said after a beat. "Jake doesn't have class, and I noticed your skincare stash is pretty much empty."

You smiled against his skin, the corners of your mouth lifting. "I still have a few things left at the dorm."

"But not the good stuff," he teased, and you could hear the soft smile in his voice.

The next few months followed the same rhythm—routine, steady, exhausting. Your days blurred together in a cycle of early mornings and late shifts, and while your body pushed forward, it was starting to show the weight of everything. The kind of tired that sleep couldn't fix began to settle into your bones.

But at the end of every long day, there they were.

Jake stood at the edge of the sidewalk in his uniform, his name tag slightly crooked, his smile brighter than the streetlights flickering on around him. Jay leaned beside him in his white clinical coat.

Jake spotted you first, as always, and waved with both hands like he hadn't seen you in years.

And just like that, the heavy tiredness cracked open.

You smiled without even realizing it, quickening your pace as you crossed the street. Your bag slipped from your shoulder as your arms went around both of their necks, pulling them in close. You stood on your tiptoes, pressing your face into the space between their shoulders, breathing them in—Jake's warm scent of citrus and soap, Jay's subtle cologne and hospital linen.

Their arms wrapped around you instantly. You felt Jake press a kiss into your hair, heard Jay sigh softly as he pulled you in tighter.

"I missed you," Jake whispered, like he hadn't already texted you seventeen times that day.

You loved them. With every piece of your heart.

And finally. After everything, the sleepless nights, the breakdowns, the internships, and all the moments you wanted to quit—you stood here.

Your hair had grown down to your neck again, long enough for Sunoo to curl it into loose mermaid waves that bounced as you moved. You adjusted your toga, smoothing the fabric over your shoulders, and reapplied a layer of lip gloss while the ceremony rolled on in the background.

You glanced over your shoulder, eyes scanning the rows until they landed on him.

Jay was seated a few rows behind you, already in his cap and gown, his posture perfect as always. But when he noticed you looking, his expression softened. A small smile tugged at his lips, and he gave you a gentle wave. You couldn't help but grin back, lifting your hand to blow him a subtle, playful kiss. His ears turned pink almost instantly.

It still didn't feel real—graduation. But the weight of the cap on your head, the neat fold of the sash across your chest, and the buzzing excitement in the air around you made it sink in slowly. You did it. All of you did.

You'd earned Latin honors, your name printed in gold in the program. And Jay, unsurprisingly graduated as Magna Cum Laude, plus extra recognition for his work with a mental health advocacy organization.

The moment his name was called, the crowd burst into polite applause but that was completely drowned out by a very loud, very familiar voice near the back.

"THAT'S MY BOYFRIEND!!" Jake yelled, hands cupped around his mouth. Several heads turned. You laughed as you lifted your phone to capture the moment, zooming in to record Jay's furrowed brows and flushed ears as he made his way across the stage with practiced composure, pretending not to hear Jake's scream.

When the ceremony ended, you barely made it a few feet outside the venue before you were tackled into a tight, warm hug.

"Congrats, my lovers!!!" Jake beamed, pulling both you and Jay into his arms. He squeezed tightly before finally pulling back and grinning from ear to ear.

"Tadaaa!" he sang, revealing a bouquet in each hand—peonies and sunflowers for you, and a crisp arrangement of white roses and eucalyptus for Jay.

Jay shook his head with a small laugh, eyes fond as he accepted the flowers. You blinked against the sting of happy tears, clutching yours to your chest.

"Thank you, I love you," you sobbed, planting a loud kiss on his cheek.

"I love you more," he whined, hugging you back and forth.

"Sunoo! Take a picture of us!" Jake shouted, still hugging you.

A few steps ahead, Sunoo didn't even turn around—his face crumpled with exasperation as he raised a middle finger in your direction. Jake was still clinging to you, and Jay was trying to untangle himself from the three-way hug without knocking anyone over.

"Sunoo, please!" you called between giggles, clutching your bouquet in one hand and trying to shove Jake off with the other. "Come on, just one picture!"

Sunoo finally turned around, his expression the perfect blend of annoyance and affection. "You're all disgusting," he muttered, but he was already pulling his phone from his pocket, lining up the shot.

"Okay! Say 'I wasted my youth on a degree I'll never use!'"

You laughed and tugged Jake into the middle. Jay slid an arm around Jake's shoulder while you leaned in from the other side, flashing a peace sign and pouting your lips just in time for the shutter.

For the next pose, Jake was the one to yank you into the center. You wrapped your arms around both of them, grinning at the camera. Right as the second flash went off, they leaned in at the same time, planting kisses on both of your cheeks.

Sunoo made a dramatic gagging noise behind the camera, but you were too caught off guard to react—until a wide smile broke across your face. You lifted your hands, cupping their jaws gently, holding them there as if to say: stay. Stay in this moment.

Just like they'd plan for your upcoming anniversary, Jay and Jake had organized a trip to the beach.

And, of course, Sunoo was coming too.

"Bitch, I am not going to sit with you," Sunoo scoffed, rolling his eyes as he hauled his tote bag into the car.

"Well, Jay's driving, and I'm more of a backseat guy anyway," Jake said with a lazy grin, already adjusting his neck pillow. "If you want the front so bad, go ahead."

"No way, dude!" Sunoo scrunched his nose, then reached forward to tug your hair playfully as you buckled yourself into the passenger seat.

"Please, sit beside me!" he whined dramatically.

Jay leaned over to adjust your seatbelt, giving it a final click before gently brushing his fingers over your shoulder. You tilted your head to glance at the two of them in the backseat.

"It's only a three-hour drive," you said gently. "You'll survive."

Sunoo leaned back in the seat with a sigh, arms crossed, his face scrunched up. "Three hours in a moving tin can with him?" he muttered, jabbing a thumb toward Jake. "Barely."

Jay started the engine with a quiet sigh, already bracing himself. The soft murmur of the playlist filled the car as you pulled onto the open road, the city gradually melting into stretches of sun-washed highway and scattered trees.

For a few blissful minutes, the car was calm. Then, predictably, Jake opened his mouth.

"So," he began, sitting up a little straighter. "Did you guys know that if you accelerate fast enough, time literally moves slower for you? Like, time dilation."

You looked over your shoulder with raised brows. "Here we go."

"No, no—listen! Think about it. If Jay drives fast enough, like, close to the speed of light fast—then technically this three-hour trip would feel way shorter for him than for us."

"Except we'd all be dead because we'd vaporize before hitting Mach 1," Sunoo muttered under his breath, pulling his hoodie up over his head. "God, why are you like this?"

"But just imagine," Jake went on, eyes sparkling. "If we had a car that could do that. Like, space road trips. Time gets all wibbly. Three hours for us could be ten years for someone else. We could be out here vibing to music and come back to Earth and everything's changed."

Jay stared forward in silence, his grip on the wheel tightening fractionally.

"Jake," he said, voice low. "Please stop talking about bending time while I'm trying to figure out which exit to take."

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. "Is this your subtle way of saying we should be grateful Jay drives us through time and space at a safe 90 kilometers an hour?"

"Exactly!" Jake said brightly. "He's basically our chauffeur and a physics miracle."

Jay let out a long, slow exhale. "If I start accelerating at light speed, it's going to be straight into a wall."

Jake gasped. "That's momentum, babe."

Sunoo groaned louder this time, slapping a hand over his face.

When the three of you finally arrived at the beachside hotel, the sun was already dipping low on the horizon, casting streaks of amber and rose across the ocean.

You'd booked a one-room suite that came with a connected layout—two separate bedrooms, one shared living space, and a wide balcony overlooking the waves.

Without hesitation, you decided to bunk with Sunoo. After all, you were the one who insisted he come along in the first place. You didn't want him feeling like a fourth wheel. Jake had whined dramatically when you made the decision, slumping onto the couch with his arms flung over his face.

But the moment Sunoo turned to glare at him, Jake shut up immediately.

"Wow," Sunoo gasped as he threw his overnight bag onto the nearest bed. "How much did you spend on this? This is fucking luxurious!"

He flopped down like a satisfied cat, legs in the air, starfish-style, bouncing on the mattress.

You dropped your backpack near the dresser and laughed. "I don't know. I tried to give Jay money for it, but he just told me not to worry about it. Said he'd take care of everything."

Sunoo sat up, his expression half-impressed, half-scandalized. "I know he's rich—but this rich?"

You walked over to the vanity and opened one of the drawers, expecting it to be empty. It wasn't. It was stocked with complimentary skincare in glass jars that looked expensive. You didn't even recognize the brand.

"Yeah," you muttered with a shake of your head. "He's always been kind of... low-key about it."

And it was true. Jay never talked much about money, or his family, or what exactly his parents did. You knew it was something in finance, he'd mentioned it in passing once, but never with any detail. Not that you pried. That wasn't really your thing, and he always had this quiet way of changing the subject that made it clear there were lines he didn't want to cross.

You'd only met his father twice. Once at some formal dinner event where you weren't even introduced as his girlfriend—just as Jay's "close friend," which, at the time, didn't bother you as much as it probably should have. The second time had been more casual, a short visit when his father was in town.

You knew Jake's family ran a business too—something equally stable, equally well-off. Money had never been a problem for either of them. You'd met Jake's mother once, and she'd been warm and lively, like him.  His older brother, you'd spoken with more than a few times—he went to the same university as you, and was easy to talk to, open in a way that made Jake's background feel a little less distant.

You opened the sliding door to the balcony, just to breathe in the sea air. Below, people were still wandering the shoreline, some with towels slung over their shoulders, others in flip-flops with dripping ice cream cones.

You leaned your forearms on the railing and exhaled, breathing deep, your thoughts drifted somewhere you usually avoided: your family.

You trusted them. They weren't conservative. Not in a way that would ever make you feel unsafe. But still... you couldn't help but wonder how it would go. Really go.

Introducing Jay and Jake as both of your boyfriend? Something about that still made your stomach twist, not because it felt wrong, but because it was different. Not a lie. Just not the kind of story your parents would expect to hear over dinner.

You imagined it. Sitting across the table. Your mom would probably ask how school was, then what Jay was majoring in, then what Jake was doing after graduation. Then maybe, when the moment came, you'd say it—"they're both my boyfriends."

You winced at the thought, fingers tightening slightly on the railing. It wasn't shame, it wasn't even fear, not really. It was that strange vulnerability, the kind that comes when you love something so much, you're terrified to watch someone else misunderstand it.

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the wind thread through your hair. Maybe not now. Maybe not yet. But eventually, you'd have to tell them. Eventually, you'd have to share this part of your world.

"Hey."

Your eyes fluttered open at the familiar voice. You turned your head to find Jay standing just inside the doorway, backlit by the warm light of the room. Behind him, you caught a glimpse of Jake barging in, already diving onto the bed with zero regard for personal space, promptly tugging at Sunoo's legs and earning a dramatic scream in return.

You smiled, the kind that bloomed slow and soft, turning back toward the sea. "Hey," you echoed.

You felt Jay step closer, then, warm arms circled your waist from behind. His chin came to rest lightly on top of your head, and you leaned back into his chest without thinking

"Are you okay?" he murmured, soft enough for just you to hear. "Do you like it?"

"Of course," you said with a small laugh, tilting your head slightly to brush against him. "I love it, Jay. Thank you."

His nose nudging gently into your hair before his lips pressed the lightest kiss to your temple. The kind that made everything pause for just a second. The kind that left your heart fluttering.

Even now—after a year of being with them—this feeling hadn't faded.

That sweet, silly rush in your stomach. It was all still there. Still new, still dizzying in the best way.

Jay held you a little closer, his thumbs stroking slow circles against your sides. Behind you, Jake's cackling echoed through the room as Sunoo threatened to throw him off the balcony.

A minute later, Jake came barreling out onto the balcony, full of loud energy and bright eyes. Without warning, he wrapped you in a rough, bouncing hug and started peppering kisses all over your face—forehead, cheek, nose, chin, each one louder and messier than the last.

You squealed in protest through your laughter, half-heartedly trying to push him away, but Jake only grinned wider. Jay let out a small chuckle and pulled him in too, arms closing around both of you. He kissed the top of Jake's head, then yours. And just barely, beneath the breath of the breeze and the rustle of waves below, you heard him whisper:

"I love you. Both of you."

Since the sun was already beginning its slow descent, the four of you decided to wander the local beach town and hunt down some fresh seafood. It should've been easy, but nothing ever was when it came to your group.

It was, well—how would you describe it? Chaotic. Definitely chaotic.

Because somehow, none of you knew how to properly eat lobster. Except Jay. Of course Jay did. He sat there effortlessly cracking shells and separating the meat for the three of you. Meanwhile, Jake had nearly launched half his shrimp into Sunoo's lap.

By the end of the night, your table was covered in seafood scraps, crumpled napkins, and three different sauces spilled onto your pants. You wouldn't have changed a thing.

The next morning arrived, you'd planned this day from the start—beach time.

Down by the shore, the sun was still soft in the sky, the sand warm beneath bare feet. Sunoo and Jake were already out on a big inflatable air bed, lazily drifting in the shallows, drinks in hand and sunglasses slightly too big for their faces.

Jay had volunteered to stay on the beach, a towel draped over his lap, focused on a portable grill he'd set up in the shade of a beach umbrella. He was flipping skewers of marinated meat and pineapple slices.

You had your body half in the water, arms hooked over the edge of the air bed, letting yourself float lazily beside it. The sun warmed your back, and you listened with half a smile to the conversation between the two clowns above you.

"I still don't understand how you can't swim," Sunoo said, voice shaded with judgment.

"I can swim," Jake replied. "I just... choose not to, for safety reasons."

"You panic the moment your feet don't touch sand!"

"Which is a valid fear, Sunoo! Ever heard of deep sea creatures?"

You rolled your eyes fondly and, with a quiet grin, began gently pushing the air bed farther out from the shore with your arms. Inch by inch. They didn't notice at first.

"H-Huh? Where are you taking us?!" Sunoo suddenly sat up, eyes darting to the now noticeably deeper blue beneath him. "I can't see clear water anymore!"

Jake peeked over the edge, alarm rising in his voice. "H-Hey! T-This isn't funny!"

You couldn't help but laugh, water sloshing against your shoulders. "Relax, we're still like twenty feet from the shore."

"Twenty feet too many!" Sunoo snapped. "Turn this raft around or I'm throwing Jake into the sea and sacrificing him to Poseidon."

"Excuse me?!" Jake gasped. "We made friendship bracelets yesterday!"

"I've already cut mine off," Sunoo declared with no hesitation.

You snorted, pulling the float gently back toward the beach as Jake and Sunoo continued bickering above you.

The rest of the day passed in a soft, golden blur. Jake and Sunoo spent most of it constructing a ridiculous, over-the-top sandcastle complete with seashell gates and a moat that kept getting trampled by passing kids. You stuck close to Jay, helping him with the food, handing him skewers and snacks while sneaking bites every time he wasn't looking.

Since Jake and Sunoo both flat-out refused to venture into deeper water, you and Jay decided to try something a little more thrilling: the banana boat.

Your heart pounded with excitement as you slathered sunscreen across Jay's back, he stood still beneath your touch. You gave his shoulder a playful squeeze before pulling your hands away and practically bouncing toward the dock, already grinning.

Clad in your two-piece swimsuit and secured in a bright life jacket, you tugged off your beach shorts and tossed them into the pile of bags before climbing onto the giant inflatable banana, you gripped the side handles for balance.

Jay climbed on right behind you. You felt the boat shift under his weight as he settled into place and then, as expected, his arms slipped around your waist, tugging you flush against him.

You turned your head just enough to catch his face over your shoulder, raising a brow. "Hey," you said, teasing. "Your hands should be on the boat, not on me."

Jay gave you that infuriatingly soft, crooked grin of his. "They'll get there," he murmured, but his hands lingered a second longer—fingers trailing gently along your ribs, dangerously close to your chest—before finally letting go and grabbing the side handles.

You gave a dramatic sigh, rolling your eyes, but you couldn't stop the smile that tugged at your lips.

The instructor gave a thumbs-up from the front, and moments later, the speedboat roared to life, tugging the banana boat forward in a sudden burst. You shrieked with laughter as the inflatable jerked forward, bouncing across the waves like a bucking bronco.

Salt spray hit your face. The wind whipped past your ears. Behind you, Jay's laughter rang out, arms tightening around your waist every time you caught air.

The boat twisted, turned sharply, and for a moment you were sure you'd fly off. But Jay held on, and you did too, screaming and laughing.

By the time it slowed, you were breathless, soaked to the bone, and still grinning like a fool. You turned slightly, cheeks flushed, and met Jay's gaze. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and his eyes were shining.

"I want to go again," he said, already leaning in to kiss your cheek.

You smacked him lightly on the arm. "Hands on the boat, remember?"

He just laughed.

Later that evening, with dinner long over and the sky outside dark, you ended up sprawled in the other room with Jake, watching a random thriller movie on TV.

Jake's head rested comfortably on your chest, his arms lazily wrapped around your waist. Your fingers combed idly through his hair as your eyes stayed fixed on the screen.

"The fuck?! So he's the killer all along?!" Jake sat up a little, his voice loud.

You barely bit back a laugh, already expecting the outburst. "It was all in his head," you said calmly, brushing a stray strand of hair away from his face. "He's addicted to propofol. It's one of those unreliable narrator things."

Jake groaned like the world betrayed him. "This movie is a scam. We wasted two hours for a hallucination ending?"

"You watched it on hotel cable," you pointed out.

But Jake didn't respond. A few minutes later, you realized his breathing had evened out, and soft snores were puffing against your shirt. You looked down to find him completely passed out, you smiled softly.

The bathroom door clicked open, and Jay stepped out, hair damp and towel slung over his shoulder. He paused at the doorway, eyes softening when he saw the scene on the bed. Then he crossed the room, leaned over, and pressed a kiss to your lips.

"I think I need to join Sunoo," you whispered, careful not to disturb the sleeping Jake.

Jay's hand slipped around your waist as he climbed into bed beside you. "Can you stay a little longer?" he murmured, pulling you close without even shifting Jake.

You chuckled, forehead resting briefly against his. "I'm already tired. Why? You're acting needy today, hmm?"

He smiled faintly, shaking his head, and leaned in to kiss your neck. His lips traced a path up toward your jaw, each kiss a little more lingering than the last.

"Not needy," he said softly. "Just... wanting to hold you both a little longer."

Eventually, after a long minute of coaxing and playful protest, Jay finally let you go but not before you caught the way his gaze lingered as you slipped out the door, like he was already thinking about pulling you right back in. Jay was usually calm, it was Jake who would've actually pouted and clung to your arm if denied his nightly cuddles.

You quietly padded across the hall and slipped into the other room. Sunoo was already passed out on the bed, one leg kicked free from the blanket, a silky eye mask perfectly in place despite his softly parted lips and gentle snores.

With a quiet sigh, you crawled into bed next to him and let the weight of the day sink into the mattress. The room was cool and quiet, and eventually, your eyes fluttered shut.

But somewhere in the blur between dreams and the gentle pull of sleep, you felt the bed shift behind you.

An arm slid around your waist, pulling you gently back against a solid chest.

You hummed softly, eyes still half-lidded as you turned your head slightly, blinking against the dim glow from the room.

"Jay?" you whispered, voice scratchy with sleep.

Jay pressed closer, nuzzling into the curve of your neck. His hand drifted over your waist and down to your stomach, fingers brushing the hem of your shirt before slipping underneath.

"What's wrong?" you murmured, trying to sound stern, but your voice was too soft. You risked a glance toward Sunoo, still blissfully asleep and completely unaware. Then your gaze returned to Jay, whose lips now grazed your shoulder.

"Nothing," he said quietly.

But his hand told a different story. It moved slowly beneath your shirt, calloused fingertips gliding across the bare skin of your stomach, tracing idle shapes.

You exhaled a quiet breath, lips parting slightly. "Jay..." you warned.

"Sorry," he murmured, but the apology was quickly eclipsed by the press of his lips to your neck. His mouth moved, grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. Then his hand shifted upward. You sucked in a quiet gasp when his palm brushed over your breast, fingers curling to cup it gently.

"Jay, s-stop," you whispered again, glancing anxiously toward Sunoo. He had turned in his sleep, now facing away, the soft rise and fall of his breathing steady and undisturbed.

Jay's hand didn't still. "I miss you," he breathed, thumb teasing over your nipple in a slow, deliberate flick that made your back subtly arch against him. His other hand tightened around your waist, pulling you closer until you could feel him pressed against you, the firm outline in his sweatpants grinding lightly against your hips.

"It's been so long," he murmured.

And it had. Between the internships, late-night assignments, and Jake's nonstop academic grind, the three of you had barely touched each other in weeks.

But you hadn't expected Jay to be the one like this tonight. He was always the composed one, the patient one. Jake was usually the one who gave in first, always craving touch, always clinging. Jay had control.

Usually.

"Jay, wait..." you whispered, your voice a rushed hush as you felt his other hand slipping lower, beneath the waistband of your shorts. His fingers moved slow, grazing over your folds, teasing the delicate skin. A low breath escaped him the moment he felt how wet you already were.

You swallowed, pulse quickening.

"I've been so horny all day thinking 'bout you," he whispered. That quiet, whiny edge in his tone made your core clench instinctively

Maybe it was the softness of his voice, or the fact that it was Jay who is usually so composed, now whispering filthy truths into your ear.

His fingers traced the seam of your labia, before one slowly pushed inside. You whimpered at the stretch, your walls clenching around him as your body instinctively responded. Despite the risky position, your legs parted a little wider under the sheets, silently begging for more.

"Please," he whispered, voice tinged with that desperate, breathy edge that made your heart race.

You tilted your head, meeting his mouth with yours, pressing your lips to his. He moaned against you, his mouth parting eagerly to deepen the kiss. His tongue slid past your lips matching the rhythm of his finger as it began to move—slowly thrusting in and out, curling just enough to make you shiver.

The kiss grew messier as his hand worked between your thighs. Your breaths tangled. Every quiet sound you made, he swallowed with his mouth.

Jay pressed closer against your back, his body molding to yours, breath hot against your cheek. Then he broke the kiss, slowly pulling his finger from your core, his eyes locked on yours the entire time. You whimpered when you saw him bring it to his lips, slipping it into his mouth.

He exhaled, clearly it wasn't enough. Then, without a word, he sat up and carefully lifted you into his arms.

You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, legs curling slightly as he carried you out of the room.

By the time he stepped into the other room, Jake was still sound asleep—sprawled out, one arm flung across the pillow.

Jay laid you down gently on the bed, his hands lingering on your sides. "Been thinking about eating this pussy ever since you wore that damn swimsuit," he whispered.

Before you could reply, he was already tugging your shorts down, exposing the heat between your thighs. The rush of cool air on your skin made your back arch, a soft gasp slipping from your lips.

"I think we're gonna wake Jake up," you whispered, voice breathless.

Jay was already on his knees. He hooked your legs over his shoulders, fingers curling around your thighs to keep them parted. Slowly, he leaned in and licked a long, slow stripe up your folds.

Your hips jerked at the contact, a moan slipping from your mouth. You reached down, fingers sinking into his hair, holding on as he buried himself deeper between your legs.

"Missed eating this pretty pussy," Jay groaned into you, he tilted his head slightly, adjusting the angle as he dragged his tongue in slow circles, then pushed it inside, the wet heat of it driving you mad.

You clung to him, biting your lip hard to stifle the sounds threatening to escape, but it was getting harder—impossible, even. Your body trembled beneath his mouth, hips shifting uncontrollably as Jay devoured you without pause.

He alternated between slow, languid licks and deep, greedy sucks, lapping up every bit of your arousal, then going back to swirling his tongue.

You tried to stay still, but it was too much. You couldn't stop moving, hips jerking. Every time you gasped, every time your legs twitched, Jay just held on tighter.

At your side, Jake stirred slightly in his sleep, mumbling something incoherent as he shifted. You froze for a beat, heart pounding then another sharp flick of Jay's tongue made your hips buck again.

"I'm cumming," you breathed out in a desperate whisper, thighs shaking. Your hands gripped the sheets as your hips tried to rise off the bed, but Jay only pressed you down harder, his palms firm on your waist, pinning you in place as he buried his face deeper into your cunt.

"Jay—Jay, I'm cumming, I'm cumming—" you sobbed, unable to stop the way your body trembled violently beneath him. He groaned at your words, grinding his nose against your clit, tongue plunging and swirling until the pressure snapped all at once.

Your back arched, eyes rolling back as your orgasm surged through you. The scream that left your lips was silent, lost somewhere in your chest, trapped between needing release and needing to stay quiet.

Jay didn't stop. Even as your thighs trembled and your whole body clenched around the pleasure, he kept licking, drinking you in, chasing every last drop while your limbs went slack around him.

"J-Jay... stop," you whimpered, voice cracking from the overstimulation. "Stop for a minute, p-please..."

You could barely breathe. The pleasure had gone white-hot, your body sensitive, twitching with every flick of his tongue.

Finally, he slowed. His mouth softened, his tongue easing into gentle strokes until he stilled completely.

He pressed one last kiss to your inner thigh before rising slowly, crawling up your body. His hands pushed your shirt up to your collarbone, and his lips followed, kissing along your stomach, trailing upward until he reached your chest.

He caught your nipple between his lips, tongue flicking softly as he sucked. Your fingers tangled weakly in his hair, still dazed.

Then his mouth moved higher, brushing along your collarbone, up the line of your throat, until he finally captured your lips.

You taste yourself while kissing him, tongue desparately shoving down to yours, only adding to the intensity as his tongue moved with yours.

Without breaking the kiss, he shifted your position, gently guiding you onto your side. Now spooning you from behind, he pressed flush against you, the heat of him seeping into your skin as his thigh tucked between yours.

You glanced at Jake who was still fast asleep.

Jay exhaled against your neck, then reached down with one hand to push his sweatpants just low enough to free himself. You felt him, hot and hard, nudging against your backside. A shiver ran through you as his hand slid along your inner thigh, coaxing it forward, lifting just enough to open you to him. You instinctively pressed your hips back, the thick weight of his cock nestling against your folds.

"Jay," you breathed, tilting your head. Your foreheads touched, noses brushing as his hand slid up to cup your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple in slow, teasing circles.

"Keep your eyes on me, baby," he whispered. Your lashes fluttered as he ground his cock slowly against your center, dragging it along your slit without entering.

"We're gonna wake Jake up," you repeated, forehead still pressed to his, breath mingling.

Jay just smiled, the curve of his lips brushing your cheek as he whispered back, "It's okay... he can join anyway."

Before you could respond, his hips shifted and the thick head of his cock pressed into your entrance. Your mouth fell open, a gasp escaping as he filled you in one smooth, unhurried thrust. The stretch was full. You dug your nails into his forearm where it wrapped around your waist

He kissed you again, catching your breath with his mouth as he began to move, slow at first, each roll of his hips drawing a quiet moan from your throat. His hand never left your breast, kneading gently, thumb circling and flicking your sensitive peak in rhythm with his thrusts.

You broke the kiss, eyes half-lidded, both of you breathing heavily now, sharing the same air, bodies locked together as his pace gradually built.

He pulled out until only his tip remained, then pushed back in harder, hips snapping forward with more pressure.

"Ahhh!"

"Wanna go rough," he muttered against your neck. His eyes fluttered shut for a second, his grip tightening. "Can I? You'd like that, right, baby? Right?"

You nodded, unable to form words.

A low, needy moan left his throat as he picked up the pace, his thrusts turns faster and deeper. The soft mattress bounced beneath you with every movement, muffling the sound but not the intensity. You gripped the sheets, trying to stay quiet, but the way he filled you, the way his cock dragged perfectly along every inch of your walls—it was too much.

"Fuck," he groaned, burying his face in your shoulder.

"Jaaay..." you gasped out his name, drawing it long and needy as pleasure pulsed through you.

His grip on your thigh shifted, releasing only to find your hand, fingers lacing with yours as he gently pushed your upper body forward, angling your hips just right. You followed without resistance, the motion letting him reach even deeper.

Then he hit it—that spot—and your mouth fell open in a silent cry.

Your eyes fluttered shut, lip caught between your teeth as your body clenched around him. You could hear the sharp breath he sucked in behind you, the tremble in his exhale as you tightened.

He was getting close. You could feel it in the way his rhythm faltered for a second.

"Good, baby?" he whispered against your ear, that soft, breathy tone he only used when he was holding back.

You smiled through another moan, the sound catching in your throat as you tilted your head slightly to find his lips. The kiss was short, a sweet, heated peck that melted into a soft whimper as he thrust into you again.

"Yes," you breathed, barely able to get the words out. "So good—haah—so deep..."

Jay rested his forehead against the back of your head, lips brushing your hair as he kept moving.

Jay pulled out. Your brows knit in confusion, lips parting, but Jay was already grabbing your hips, repositioning you. He dragged you to the edge of the bed, bending you forward as he laid you across Jake's sleeping form. Your back arched instinctively as your body adjusted to the shift.

"Wake him," Jay murmured as he settled behind you again, his hands spreading your cheeks.

You fumbled with Jake's pajama waistband, tugging both the fabric and his boxers down until his cock— still soft but stirring was exposed to the cool air.

Jay's fingers brushed against your rim. "You clean here?" he asked, his thumb circling the sensitive entrance.

A soft, involuntary whimper left your lips, your hips twitching backward toward his touch. You leaned down, pressing a trail of kisses along the length of Jake's cock, feeling it twitch beneath your lips.

"Answer me, baby," Jay said, punctuating the demand with a slap to your ass. The sharp sting made you flinch.

"Yes! I—I clean every day," you gasped.

Jay groaned in frustration. "Fuck. No lube."

You glanced over your shoulder to see him already sinking to his knees behind you.

He didn't hesitate—his tongue found your rim and began working. You moaned, body trembling as your knees weakened under the heat of his mouth.

You returned your attention to Jake, licking along the underside of his shaft up to the tip. He shifted slightly beneath you, a quiet sound escaping him, not yet fully awake but already growing hard in your mouth.

Jay's tongue pressed in deeper, spit slicking your rim as he worked you open. You groaned around Jake's cock, the vibration sending a jolt through him. His hips jerked upward instinctively, pushing his now-hard length deeper past your lips.

You took him in greedily, eyes fluttering shut as you pushed your ass back into Jay's face.

Jay stood suddenly, spreading your cheeks wide and guiding himself into your slick pussy with one firm thrust.

"Hmmph!" Your body jolted, a strangled moan escaping around Jake's cock. Jay grabbed your hips again, this time angling your body forward just enough to press your mouth deeper onto Jake's shaft, brushing the back of your throat.

Jake stirred fully now, groggy eyes blinking open.

He felt it first—the wet heat of your mouth wrapped around his cock and then he saw it.

Jay was behind you, fucking you, your body sandwiched between them, head bobbing in his lap.

Jake's stomach tightened at the sight. Jay looked up at him and grinned.

"Hey, baby," he said smoothly, driving in harder, making you moan louder and push yourself down even further on Jake's cock.

Jake reached out, still dazed but growing harder by the second, brushing a hand through your hair as your moans vibrated around him.

"G'evening...?" he mumbled, voice hoarse with confusion and arousal. He gently tugged you off his cock, watching a thin strand of saliva stretch from your lips to his tip.

Behind you, Jay didn't stop. He bent lower, lips brushing the back of your shoulder as he licked his middle finger, eyes locked on the tight ring of muscle between your cheeks. Slowly, he pressed his finger to your rim, circling once before slipping inside.

You jolted at the intrusion, hips twitching against him, a gasp escaping your lips. Jay didn't stop thrusting—he just matched the rhythm of his cock with the push of his finger, stretching you gradually, his free hand gripping your waist to hold you in place as you writhed beneath them both.

Jake shifted on the bed, pushing himself upright onto his knees, positioning himself in front of you. His hand wrapped around his cock, pumping slowly as he brought it back to your mouth.

"You want it back, sweetheart?" Jake asked softly, he tapped the head of his cock against your lips, smearing pre-cum along your mouth.

You opened willingly, tongue flicking out to taste him, your moan muffled as he slid back in. Jake groaned, hips twitching as your lips sealed around him again.

Jay curled his finger inside you, pushing deeper, and your whole body tensed at the double sensation — your throat filled with Jake's cock, your ass stretching slowly around Jay's finger as he fucked you with deep, rolling thrusts.

Jake leaned forward, hands gripping the curve of your ass as he spread you open wider, eyes fixed on the way you pulsed around Jay's fingers. He exhaled a shaky breath, mouth slightly parted.

Jay slipped a second finger inside you, the added stretch pulling a sharp gasp from your lips. It burned just enough to make your eyes sting but you didn't ask them to stop.

Because you missed this. Missed the ache, the fullness, the way they both used your body for their pleasure.

Moans overlapped in the room, Jay's soft growls as he felt you tighten around his fingers, Jake's ragged gasps as your mouth moved faster, your head bobbing on his cock.

You arched deeper, forcing yourself further onto Jake's length, the wet sounds of your mouth and their breathing tangled with the slap of skin and the creak of the bed. Your throat flexed as you took him in, your tongue working along the underside of his shaft, matching the pace of Jay's fingers stretching you open.

Jay slowed his thrusts behind you, his breath hitching as he reached the edge again, hips grinding into your ass with just enough pressure to keep himself teetering. Edging on purpose.

He looked up, meeting Jake's eyes over the curve of your back. Jake leaned forward, their mouths crashing together in a kiss that was anything but gentle. Teeth and tongue crashing.

Their bodies moved in tandem—Jay driving into you again and each push sent you forward, impaling your mouth on Jake's cock.

Jay's fingers slid out just as his cock pushed deeper inside. Jake's hand cupped the back of your head, guiding your rhythm, his hips snapping forward in short bursts, each one pushing into the tight heat of your throat.

"Ahh, fuck. Jay," Jake groaned, breaking the kiss. His breath fanned across Jay's cheek as he leaned in, trailing kisses down the side of Jay's neck. His lips found skin, then teeth followed, scraping lightly before soothing with his tongue.

Your lungs screamed for air. The pressure at the back of your throat blurred into dizzying deprivation, your nails scraped down Jake's thigh to signal him.

Jake pulled back in an instant, your lips slipping from his cock with a wet gasp. He leaned down, catching your mouth in a kiss. His hand cradled your jaw, wiping a trail of drool from your chin with his thumb.

Your chest heaved against the mattress, breath coming in stuttering bursts. Your vision swam, lashes heavy, lips swollen. You could feel your body moving but your mind floated, clinging to the feeling rather than the shape of it.

Jay groaned, breath shuddering as he pulled out, only to grip your hips hard enough to bruise—and drive himself into your ass with one single, brutal thrust.

"Ahhhh! Fuck!" Your scream tore through the room, your body convulsing under the intrusion.

Jay groaned loudly behind you. Your legs trembled, toes curling tight as pain bloomed through your spine. Tears spilled without permission, streaking hot down your cheeks.

"Hey... still with us?" Jake's voice broke through the haze.

He knelt beside you, brushing your hair out of your face, his lips soft against the damp trail of your tears. He kissed you again, slower this time, anchoring you as you shook beneath them both.

Jay bent over you, his chest pressed to your back. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, lips peppering kisses across your skin, his cock twitching deep inside your ass. His breath was ragged.

"Sorry, baby," he whispered, moving one hand up from your hip to your breast, cupping it gently. His thumb circled your nipple while the other hand steadied you. "Shhh... I got you. Just breathe."

But your lips trembled, a sob slipping through as you buried your face in the sheets. It hurt. Your body throbbed from the stretch, the shock of how deep he was, how sudden. Jake caught your hand, holding it gently, kissing the back of your palm.

"Talk to me," he said softly. "Does it hurt?"

You nodded, tears still falling, throat too tight to speak.

Jay froze. "I'm sorry," he whispered again. His hands softened, his hips still. He leaned back a little, pulling out carefully, guilt etched in every line of his body.

"No!" your voice cracked out, panicked, reaching blindly behind you. Your fingers curled around his hip, clutching. "D-Don't stop... I... I can take it."

Jake's brows furrowed, watching your face closely. "You sure?" he murmured, his thumb brushing along your wrist, eyes locked to yours.

You nodded, swallowing down the ache. "Please."

Jay didn't move yet. He stayed pressed close, his forehead resting against your spine, just breathing with you. Slowly, he guided his cock back, sliding just the tip inside before pausing. His hand smoothed over your side, your ribs, your hip.

"Okay," he breathed. "We go slow this time."

And when he pushed back in, it was careful, patient—his hands trembling with restraint as you stretched around him again.

And despite the sting, the burn, your body opened for him.

Jake leaned in and kissed you, his tongue teased your bottom lip, then slid past it. His hand cradled your jaw, tilting your face just the way he liked it, deepening the kiss as your mouth opened willingly for him.

Behind you, Jay didn't stop moving. His hips kept a slow, steady rhythm as he fucked into your ass, stretching you open all over again. You didn't expect the sudden shift not when he slipped free and thrust himself into your soaked pussy without warning. Your whole body jolted at the change, a moan catching in your throat, only to be swallowed by Jake's mouth.

Jay didn't stay there. He pulled out, slick with your arousal, and pushed back into your ass. You cried out into Jake's mouth, fingers digging into his shoulders as Jay started alternating between your holes, back and forth.

His groans grew louder with each pass, his cock coated with your slickness making the transitions smooth. Every thrust into your ass felt deeper now,  and once he was satisfied with the slickness, he stayed there—burying himself fully and starting to fuck you.

Your moans were helplessly muffled against Jake's lips. You clung to him as your body rocked from the force of Jay's pace, the bed creaking under the rhythm of their bodies working in sync.

Then Jay moved. His arms wrapped around your torso, lifting you effortlessly off Jake, carrying you as though you weighed nothing.

Jake fell back onto the bed, cock still hard and slick between his thighs, stroking himself as he watched Jay position you above him. Your body trembled in Jay's grip, your breath coming in fast, erratic gasps, eyes glassy and unfocused.

"Still with us?" Jake asked. His gaze locked onto your flushed face as he slowly fisted his cock, watching your lips part in a silent moan.

You tried to nod but squealed instead as Jay shifted behind you—straightening your spine, pulling you tight to his chest. And then Jake pressed the tip of his cock into your entrance, pushing into your dripping pussy.

Your hands were caught behind your back in Jay's grip, leaving you fully exposed, you gasped as Jake bottomed out inside you.

"God, so tight," Jake groaned as his hands slid up your belly, caressing the trembling muscles beneath your skin.

Jay held you steady, arms firm around your waist, as Jake began moving—rocking into you, using your slick heat to guide each stroke. Your hips rolled with his rhythm, your moans turning to desperate little gasps as you felt yourself being tugged and used like a doll between them.

Jay hissed behind you, resting his forehead against your shoulder. "Missed this," he growled, though he stopped his hips, letting Jake take over the motion for now, letting himself feel you clench around both of them with every bounce of your body.

Your head lolled back onto Jay's shoulder, mouth open in a silent scream as Jake's cock drove up into you from below, and Jay's cock filled your ass to the hilt.

And then Jay started again. He let go of your bound hands only to slide his arms around your chest, cupping your breasts, holding you in place as he started thrusting again. Faster and rougher.

Your mind spun. Your body thrashed. The friction, the pressure, your pussy squeezing Jake while your ass clung to Jay, was too much.

The bubbling heat in your stomach snapped. You came hard, your whole body seizing as the orgasm ripped through you, crying out shamelessly between them. Your walls clamped down, legs twitching.

"Shhh, Sunoo's sleeping." Jake moaned as he held your hips, anchoring you as he fucked up into you faster. Jay grunted, his arms tightening as his pace grew erratic, cock pulsing inside you as he pounded into your ass.

Behind you, Jay's control was unraveling. His rhythm stuttered, breath ragged in your ear. His arms tightened around you, holding you in place as his cock throbbed. "C-Close," he ground out before pushing you forward into Jake's chest, hands flattening against your back to hold you still as he drove in harder.

The pressure built again, your vision blurring at the edges. You could barely distinguish the sounds around you anymore—Jake's sharp gasps near your ear, the slap of skin, the wet drag of their cocks inside you, your own breathless moans.

And then Jay came. You felt the twitch, the sudden warmth deep inside as he groaned, head dropping to your shoulder. His teeth grazed your skin as he rode out his release, fingers digging into your sides.

Jay pulled out, only for Jake to shift suddenly beneath you. He flipped your body over, and before you could even register the new position, he was pushing into your ass.

You cried out, your voice raw from earlier but still rising to meet the intensity. Your senses were waterlogged, every drag of skin, every shift of their bodies, blurred into one endless stream of stimulation.

You writhed, helpless beneath Jake, your ass clenched tight around him as he buried himself deep, grinding his hips, gritting his teeth at the feel of you.

And then, in the haze of it all, you saw Jay again—on his knees, eyes glazed over as he wrapped his lips around Jake's cock the moment it slipped free, tongue tracing the length, savoring the taste of you and him mixed together.

Your mouth fell open, but no words came. They moved you again, bodies switching places.

Jay lifted your legs over his shoulders while Jake held your wrists above your head, mouths exploring. Jay's teeth found your shoulder, your neck, your ribs—sharp nips that left heat in their wake. Jake's hands were everywhere—palming your breasts, your hips, one hand buried in your hair, tugging just enough to make your breath hitch.

Your throat was raw from screaming, your voice reduced to ragged whimpers. Your body is so overstimulated, so far past the edge—moved only because they moved you.

They shifted you again.

Your body was gently rolled onto its side, limbs trembling, eyes fluttering as they adjusted your position.  Jay pressed against your back, he curled one arm beneath your body. In front of you, Jake wrapped your leg over his shoulder, one hand cupping the back of your knee, the other guiding his cock back into your swollen cunt.

Jay pushed into your ass again at the same moment Jake slid inside you.

You made a broken sound, your fingers curled uselessly into the sheets as they moved in sync—slow at first, as though they both knew you were at your limit, then gradually picking up pace, chasing their own pleasure while coaxing the last shreds of sensation from your spent body.

"Almost there, baby... just stay with us..."

"So good for us. Always take us so well..."

Their hands didn't stop. They kept touching, even when you could no longer respond—Jake's fingers tracing lazy lines down your thigh, Jay's palm sliding up to cradle your breast, thumbing your nipple with the barest pressure, just enough to make your hips twitch.

You didn't know how long they kept going—minutes or hours?

When they came for the fourth time,  their moans were strained, filled with relief and release. Jay's hips stuttered as he emptied himself inside you once more, while Jake buried himself, his breath hitching as his cum spilled into your cunt.

They stayed still afterward, breathing heavy, their bodies wrapped around you. You whimpered softly, every part of you drenched in sweat and cum, your holes leaking, your thighs trembling.

Jake was the first to move. He brushed damp hair away from your face and kissed you. "Happy anniversary, baby," he whispered against your mouth, "I love you."

Jay nuzzled into your neck from behind, his hand still splayed over your stomach. "I love you," he whisper to your ear.

A soft smile lingered on your lips as sleep began to pull you under, your body finally giving in to exhaustion. Jay noticed the way your breathing slowed, the way your hand slackened in his. Panic flickered across his face for a second, concerned he might've pushed you too far, been too much.

But then he heard your first soft snore.

He let out a quiet sigh of relief, brushing a few strands of hair from your face before pulling the blanket gently over your body. His lips pressed to your shoulder in a tender kiss, before kissing also Jake whispering "I love you," before he allowed himself to relax.

You became the unintentional reason why the long-planned island hopping trip was canceled the next day.

You'd barely moved from the bed.

At some point, Sunoo had burst into the room, sunglasses still on despite being indoors, holding a half-eaten banana and a very dramatic frown.

"You've got to be kidding me," he said, hands on his hips. "One night, one night of freedom, and the three of you manage to destroy my entire itinerary."

You groaned from under the sheets, your face buried in a pillow.  Everything hurt.

Jay offered an apologetic look from the other side of the room, while Jake just laughed into his juice box.

"She's not going anywhere today," Jake said cheerfully, lounging at the foot of the bed. "She couldn't even walk straight coming out of the bathroom."

"Stop talking," you mumbled into the pillow, smacking Jake's thigh without lifting your head.

Sunoo threw his arms up. "I planned a whole route! A cute lunch spot! Coordinated swimwear! And now my best friend is basically bedridden and you two—" he pointed accusingly at Jay and Jake, "—have the audacity to sit there like you're innocent!"

Jake ended up tagging along with Sunoo that afternoon, following him through local shops as he hunted for souvenirs and spent half the time helping him find the perfect lighting for his Instagram shots. You'd seen the selfies later, Sunoo in oversized sunglasses, Jake photobombing with goofy peace signs, and couldn't help but smile.

When you returned from the vacation, back to reality, back to the hum of city life, you decided to take a breath and visit your hometown. Your family.

The first night home, you found yourself seated at the dinner table, the scent of home-cooked food familiar but somehow distant. Your mother passed you the rice bowl before sitting back in her seat with a sigh.

"We're sorry we couldn't come to your graduation," she said, not looking directly at you. "Your sister had her moving-up ceremony too, and I couldn't leave your brother alone."

You just smiled.

"So... what's next for you?"

You shifted in your seat, pushing the rice around your plate with your spoon. "I'm reviewing for the psychometrician licensure exam," you said calmly. "If I pass, I want to work in hospitals—maybe start looking into master's programs too."

"That's good," she replied, then went quiet.

The conversation ended there, just like that. The sound of utensils against plates took over the room. You weren't sure if they didn't know what to say... or if they simply didn't care enough to ask more.

Your parents had always been like this, distant and distracted. Your older brother had been a handful since childhood, always in trouble, always needing someone to clean up after him. The second eldest was the star: awards, medals, top of the class. Then your little sister came along, the one your mom adored, who got praised for even the smallest thing. And you... you were somewhere in the middle.

Never a problem. Never the pride. Just quietly capable. They assumed you could handle things. And you did. But being the one who always "figured it out" left you invisible more often than not.

You looked up from your plate, watching your mother refill your father's glass. He hadn't said much beyond a grunt of acknowledgment when you walked in earlier. You thought about what it would take to pierce the silence.

"I have boyfriends," you wanted to say.

Jake, who lights up every room and kisses your face. Jay whose love is in every thoughtful gesture, every look. You wanted to say it. You wanted to say they make you feel seen in a way your own family never did.

Your father might freak out. Or not. He might just wave it off the way he always did, tucked into his chair and his silence. Your mother might purse her lips, ask questions with careful tones and measured words.

You didn't expect celebration. So why was it so hard to say?

Your hands stilled on the table, spoon resting against your plate. The words sat on your tongue, but somehow they wouldn't come out.

Moving back in with Jay and Jake should've felt like comfort after being away too long. And in some ways, it did.

But the train of thought that had started back home refused to leave.

You couldn't shake it. Not even after unpacking. Not even after lying on the couch with the TV on and your phone buzzing somewhere out of reach. You stared at the screen blankly, not really watching, your mind circling around the same thought like it had nowhere else to go.

You'd missed your chance.

That window—that perfect, ordinary moment at dinner—you let it pass. And now it would be a long time before you saw them again. Maybe longer than you'd like to admit.

You'd wanted to share your life. The love you had. The people who saw you fully. But instead, you played your part again, the reliable one, the good daughter, the girl who doesn't ask for much.

You didn't hear the door open or close. Only the soft thud of a backpack hitting the floor pulled you from your thoughts.

"Hey."

Jake's voice snapped you gently out of your spiral, and you blinked to find him standing there in a rumpled hoodie and jeans, casual as ever, a tired smile on his face. He dropped his bag by the table and made his way to you.

You stood automatically, meeting him halfway to press a quick kiss to his lips before sinking back into the couch.

"Where's Jay?" he asked, dropping down beside you with a long, theatrical sigh. He leaned over without hesitation, wrapping an arm around your waist before settling his head in your lap.

"Helping his dad with something for the business," you murmured, threading your fingers through his hair.

Jake huffed, and you chuckled softly.

"Tired?" you asked, even though the answer was already clear.

He nodded into your thigh, lips pouty. "I want you two to cuddle me. Physics is actually killing me."

You smiled and leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. He hummed contentedly, his hand lightly rubbing circles into your hip as the quiet returned between you. But then, softly, Jake asked. "Are you okay?"

You blinked, and looked down at him. His eyes were still closed, lashes brushing his cheeks.

You didn't know what to say. You looked away from him, eyes drifting back to the glowing TV screen you hadn't been watching at all.

"I..." you started quietly. Jake opened his eyes, turning his face slightly against your lap to really look at you now.

You drew in a shaky breath. "I just realized... it's really hard for me to share my life with others. Even with people I love. Even with you two."

Jake didn't rush you, just let his hand smooth down along your waist in slow strokes, thumb tracing small circles like he was quietly urging you to go on.

"I know you and Jay... you'd introduce me to your families tomorrow if I asked. Like it's nothing. Like it's natural," you said. "But I couldn't stop thinking about it when I went home. I sat there at dinner, thinking about how I wanted to tell them. Tell them about you. About Jay. About us. And I didn't." You laughed softly.

Jake's hand stilled for a moment on your waist, then continued its gentle motion.

"I guess," you swallowed, "I started thinking that maybe... maybe I'm the one who doesn't belong here. That I shouldn't be in this. That, you know, three's a crowd."

Jake shifted, just a little, enough to slide his other arm around your hips so he could hold you properly now, his head still in your lap but his gaze completely focused on you. He took a long breath, then shifted again—just enough to sit up, turning his body to face you properly. One hand reached for yours, the other cupped your cheek.

"Baby," he murmured, "you're not taking up space. Okay? You belong here."

You looked at him, your throat tight, vision already beginning to blur at the edges. His eyes didn't waver, and before you could blink away the sting behind your lashes, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"We love you," he continued softly, "because of who you are. Not because of what you do, or how easy it is to explain you to other people. You don't owe anyone your story until you're ready to share it."

A single tear slipped down your cheek. Jake caught it with his thumb, brushing it away without a word.

"And I don't care how long it takes," he whispered. "You've already shared yourself with us. That's more than enough."

You let out a shaky breath, one hand still clinging to his. "I know this relationship isn't... normal," you said after a moment, your eyes dropping to your lap. "Not the way people expect love to look. I watch other couples making plans—talking about weddings, houses, kids. And I wonder if we'll ever get to have that, or if people like us... always have to fight just to be happy."

Jake didn't interrupt. He just listened, his thumb now gently stroking the back of your hand.

You kept going, because once it started, it felt impossible to stop. "I think about the future, and how there's this path laid out—what everyone thinks is the right way. And I wonder if we even can fit into it. Or if one day... you'll both get tired of trying. Because we'll always be the ones people don't understand." Your voice cracked slightly at the end.

Jake leaned forward, his brow pressing gently against yours. "You're right," he said. "This isn't the kind of relationship most people are used to. It's different. But that doesn't make it less real. It doesn't make it less ours."

He pulled back just enough to look at you. "We want all of that too," he said. "The commitment. The life. The forever kind of thing. We just get to write the rules together. And yeah, it's scary sometimes. But it's also kind of beautiful, don't you think?"

You nodded slowly, a tear sliding silently down your cheek. Jake caught that one too.

"We've been together for a year, baby," he said quietly. "We don't have to follow anyone else's path. We get to make our own. Just us."

You nodded again, letting your head rest against his shoulder. Jake leaned his head against yours too.

"Jay's planning to start his master's soon. You are too," he said softly. "Once I graduate, I'm gonna become an engineer. Then we'll buy a big house."

You let out a breath of a laugh, the smallest smile tugging at your lips. "Oh, yeah?"

He grinned, proud of himself. "Huge backyard. Real quiet neighborhood. Sunoo will live next door, but we won't tell him that's not a coincidence."

You chuckled, and Jake grinned wider, encouraged.

"We'll get dogs—three, no, five. You can name them. And then..." He paused dramatically. "How many kids do you want? Seven? I can give you that."

You pulled back just enough to look at him, eyebrows raised. "Seven? Are you out of your mind?"

He shrugged, mock serious. "I'm just saying. I have range."

You laughed properly then, the sound shaking loose the last of the heaviness in your chest. Jake's smile softened, eyes crinkling at the corners as he watched you.

"I don't care how many," you said eventually. "As long as it's with you. With Jay."

He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then one to your cheek. Jake wrapped his arms tighter around you.

You rested there for a while, wrapped up in each other. The future still felt uncertain, but it didn't feel so scary anymore. Not when you knew love could be quiet and messy and not look like anyone else's—and still be yours.

You and Jay passed the licensure exam. Together.

Sunoo had passed too, his proud shriek over the group call still echoed in your memory. Sunghoon aced the nursing boards, and Wonyoung, unsurprisingly, had done the same. There'd been celebratory dinners, messy group selfies, and a lot of ugly crying—Sunoo's, mostly.

Jake, meanwhile, was still deep in the trenches of college life. Balancing lectures, labs, and papers while hopping between part-time jobs, and on top of that, helping with his family's business whenever he could. It was exhausting just watching him move but somehow, he made it work, flashing his usual grin with "I'm just built different."

Jay, of course, had offers left and right. Hospitals, clinics, even research institutions. The kind of attention you weren't surprised by. You, on the other hand, didn't have a waiting line of clinics calling your name. And that was okay. You never expected to be him. You started where you could—sending out resumes, attending interviews, building your confidence one step at a time.

Still, it stung a little when you didn't get placed with him. Again.

You kicked the gravel beneath your feet, hugging yourself closer to Jay as the two of you walked side by side outside the exam center where you'd just finalized your paperwork.

"We're on different clinics. Again," you muttered, leaning into him dramatically.

Jay chuckled, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you in. "It's not the end of the world."

"It's the end of our synchronized lunch breaks," you huffed, resting your head against his chest.

"You just want to steal my snacks."

"You have better snacks," you mumbled. "And hotter coworkers. It's not fair."

He laughed quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "You're the only one I flirt with at work, you know that."

You looked up at him. "Oh, so you do flirt at work?"

Jay smiled. That crooked, boyish smile he only gave when he knew he was pushing your buttons on purpose.

You rolled your eyes, but your grin betrayed you. The wind tugged at your hair, but Jay's hand reached up to tuck a strand behind your ear.

"I know it sucks," he said quietly. "Starting from different places. But it doesn't mean we're going in different directions."

You looked at him, heart softening.

"I want you to take your time," he continued. "Find a clinic that feels right for you. Not just the one that happens to be next to mine."

You bit the inside of your cheek. "I guess I just... wanted to keep walking this part with you. Like we did before."

"You still are," he said, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "Just on your own lane. Doesn't mean you're not right beside me."

You leaned into his touch, warmth settling in your chest.

"And hey," he added with a gentle nudge. "At least now we'll have stories to share over dinner."

"Only if you bring the snacks."

"I'll bring you the whole damn pantry."

EPILOGUE

You learn a lot as you grow older.

Not just the kind of learning that comes from books or exams or degrees but the quiet kind. The kind that sneaks up on you in the middle of doing laundry, or while you're watching someone you love stir sugar into your tea exactly the way you like it.

As someone who graduated in the field of Psychology, you'd always known the theories—Maslow, Erikson, Skinner, all the frameworks for understanding behavior, emotion, trauma. But living it? That was a different education.

And love, in its realest form, had taught you as much as any textbook ever could.

Jay taught you patience not the kind that's passive, but the kind that waits with intention. He showed you how to pause, breathe, and choose your words instead of reacting. How to say "I'm sorry" without defensiveness. How to sit in silence when you needed to, and how that silence could say, I'm here. You don't have to rush.

Jake taught you joy. Not just happiness, but real joy, the kind that dances around a room with no music and makes jokes even when things are hard. He reminded you that you didn't have to be polished or perfect to be worthy of love. That vulnerability wasn't a flaw. That laughter could be healing in a way few things could.

And you... you learned that your role wasn't to be the center or the glue, but the space between—the breath before the storm, the bridge between Jay's quiet logic and Jake's loud, chaotic warmth. A stabilizer. A mirror. Over time, you stopped wondering where you belonged because you realized you weren't just part of it.

You were what made it whole.

The three of you sat on the floor that evening, legs tangled in blankets, surrounded by the half-unpacked mess of your shared apartment. A movie was playing quietly in the background.

"Do you remember when Jay used to get all sour around you?" Jake laughed suddenly, tossing a marshmallow in the air and catching it in his mouth.

From the kitchen, Jay's voice rang out. "Stop bringing that up!"

Jake only laughed harder.

You grinned, poking a marshmallow onto a stick before lowering it into the tiny tabletop burner you were using like a makeshift campfire.

"And what about our first big fight?" Jake continued, more softly this time. "When Jay and I got into it, and you tried to step in, and we just... turned it on you. God, we were assholes."

You nodded, laughing a little under your breath at the memory. It wasn't a good fight—messy words, hurt feelings, doors closed a little too hard. But it taught you something.

Jake leaned closer, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and resting his chin on top of your head. "You didn't get mad at us," he said. "Even after all that. We said stuff that wasn't fair. But you never yelled. Why?"

You looked at him, brows raised in mock offense. "You think I didn't want to throw both of you into the hallway?"

He grinned, but waited for the real answer. You sighed softly, looking down at the marshmallow as it turned golden in the firelight.

"I had a part in it," you said. "I confronted you both at the wrong time. Too soon. When emotions were still too high."

You glanced over at Jay, who had now joined you on the floor.

"We learned this in school, remember?" you said, the corners of your mouth lifting. "It's in our nature, when we're overstimulated, emotionally hijacked—our brains go into fight or flight. Logic takes a back seat. We say things we don't mean because we're trying to protect something inside ourselves."

Jay reached out and brushed his thumb over your hand.

"And I realized," you continued, "it's not about avoiding conflict. It's about knowing when to approach it. Timing matters. So does tone. So does intention."

Jake hummed in agreement, then shot a look at Jay, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Even though Jay's taking his master's, sometimes he forgets he's not a robot."

Jay looked up from where he was refolding a blanket, unimpressed. "Excuse me?"

Jake grinned. "You isolate your feelings like you're submitting them for peer review."

You laughed, tugging both of them closer until their shoulders bumped yours on either side. The warmth of being between them never got old.

"It's true, though," you added, resting your chin briefly on Jay's shoulder. "When Jay bottles things up, it builds. So when he does get upset, it's like—boom."

Jay rolled his eyes, but the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth gave him away.

You slipped your arm around his waist, squeezing gently. "But he's working on it. Right, baby? Remember our promise?"

Jay didn't say anything at first, but the glance he gave you was soft. Then he sighed dramatically, leaning into your side with mock defeat.

"I remember," he muttered. "Self-awareness and emotional regulation.

Jake gave him a proud pat on the back.

Love isn't perfect. People aren't either. But love doesn't require perfection. Only presence and growth. The choice to stay and try again, even when things get hard.

It was Jake's graduation day.

You were in the shower when he opened the door without warning—completely naked, grinning with that boyish charm that always disarmed you.

"I'm going to wash your back," he said, stepping in, water misting his skin. "And you can wash mine too." He wrapped his arms around you from behind, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.

Before long, your bodies were tangled together, steam rising as he thrust into you, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. The sound of your moans echoed against the bathroom, mixing with the splash of water and heavy breathing.

A knock at the door snapped the spell.

"Jake! You're gonna be late to your own damn graduation!" Jay's voice came through.

Jake sighed, forehead resting against yours. "I'll be quick."

Later, as you stood in front of the mirror doing the final touches on your makeup, Jay appeared behind you. His hands found your hips, and he leaned down, brushing his lips against your neck.

"You're glowing," he murmured.

You turned to face him, teasing, "You're just horny."

He smirked, guiding your mouth to his. The kiss deepened fast, he lifted you onto the counter and soon enough, you were breathless all over again.

By the time you arrived at the ceremony, your legs still trembled faintly under your dress. Jake found you in the crowd and grabbed your hand.

"Hey," he said, eyes hopeful. "Is it okay... if I introduce you to Mom? As my girlfriend?"

Your heart skipped. It had been three years of your relationship, you'd spoken to his parents plenty of times at their family shop, but never like this.

"S-sure," you said, then quickly added, "Unless you're not ready—"

"I'm ready if you are," Jake said softly.

You smiled, interlacing your fingers with his. "Tell them I'm yours."

As you walked toward his family, your chest tightened. Jay stood beside you, his palm smoothing over your lower back in a calming, familiar gesture.

"Congratulations, my boy!" Jake's mother exclaimed, kissing his cheek. She greeted both you and Jay with cheek-to-cheek kisses.

"Engineer Sim Jaeyun. Sounds official," Jake's brother said, fist-bumping him.

Conversation buzzed around, full of laughter and pride. Jake pulled you closer, one hand resting on your waist.

"Mom," he said clearly. "This is my girlfriend."

The group went quiet. Your mind rushed with a thousand thoughts. They'll judge you. They'll think you're a slut. They'll ask why both sons are wrapped around one girl.

Jake's mother looked down, eyes catching both Jake's and Jay's hands on you. "We know," she said gently. "Even Jay's father knows."

Both boys froze.

Her gaze turned to you. "Thank you for taking good care of my sons," she said, reaching up to tuck a damp strand of hair behind your ear.

Emotion caught in your throat. Your eyes stung. "I-I..." you tried to laugh. "They're the ones taking care of me, ma'am."

"You silly girl," she laughed, pulling you into a light embrace. "I know the stress of managing two men back and forth."

Her voice was teasing, but kind. And in that moment, the tightness in your chest, the quiet anxiety that had been sitting there all day finally softened.

You let yourself lean into the hug, if only for a second, and thought about your own family.

Would they react like this? With ease, with lightness? With kindness, even if they didn't understand?

You didn't know. Because you hadn't tried.

And maybe you weren't ready yet. Not today. Maybe not for a while.

But that was okay. Some truths take time. Some stories need space. And when you're ready, you'll tell it in your own way, on your own terms.

Until then, love doesn't stop growing just because it's quiet.

Jake’s family had invited the three of you to a formal dinner. You sat between Jake and Jay at the long table, surrounded by his parents, a few cousins, and an uncle who occasionally asked the waiter for another bottle of wine.

It wasn’t long before the discussion shifted to futures—careers, plans, and everything in between.

Jay was answering questions about his master’s program, explaining something about clinical data and research work. Jake jumped in right after, talking about his final year, his capstone project, and his tentative plans to help expand his family’s business once he had more experience under his belt.

“And then,” Jake added, grinning, “we’re thinking about buying a house, one with a good view, and I want a big yard.”

“A home for the three of you?” his cousin asked, a little curious. Jake just smiled. “Eventually.”

There was laughter, clinking glasses, someone said something about property taxes, and the conversation flowed easily.

Then Jake’s mother turned her gaze toward you with a warm smile. “And what about you, dear? You’re not taking your master’s yet?”

You smiled politely, meeting her eyes for a second before looking back down at your plate. You cut into your steak,  giving yourself a breath before answering.  “Maybe soon, ma’am,” you said gently. “But I’ve changed plans.”

“Oh?” she asked, curious but kind.

You nodded, glancing toward Jay and Jake, then back to her. “I want to teach.”

“I thought a lot about continuing on the clinical side,” you explained, “but lately, I’ve been drawn to education. To helping students find their footing the way I was helped. I think... there’s something powerful about shaping understanding, especially in psychology."

Jake’s mother’s expression softened, her hand folding neatly over her napkin.

“Well,” she said, “that sounds like exactly the kind of voice students need.”

You felt Jay’s fingers brush lightly against yours under the table. Jake, already proud, leaned back in his chair with a smug little grin, like your answer had personally earned him points.

“And who knows,” you added, a bit more lightheartedly now, “maybe I’ll take my master’s once I’ve had a classroom full of teenagers to humble me.”

There was soft laughter around the table, and the conversation moved on—back to housing prices, travel plans, the dessert menu. 

“I want to order something sweet,” Jake whispered, leaning over to you. You were still staring at the dessert menu, half-reading, half-dreaming. Jay leaned in on your other side, his curiosity piqued as he peered over your shoulder.

“There’s no corn there,” Jake teased, bumping Jay’s arm.

You giggled. Jay, unamused but barely hiding his smirk, reached over to pinch Jake’s shoulder.

You pointed at the menu: Strawberry cake.

Jake sighed with awe. “You’re such a softie.”

“You’ll thank me later,” you replied.

And he would. He always did.

The night ended softly.

The three of you returned to the apartment in quiet contentment, no one talked much. You changed out of your formal clothes, brushing your teeth half-asleep, moving in sync the way people who know each other too well do.

And when you finally collapsed into bed. You just lay there, all of you staring up at the star stickers you’d stubbornly stuck to the ceiling months ago. Most had stayed. A few had fallen. The glow had faded, but not completely. It was faint, but still there.

“I love the both of you,” you said, voice soft. 

Jay shifted first, curling closer, his arm wrapping gently around your waist. Jake, as usual, flopped without ceremony, resting his head on your chest and letting out a content sigh.

There was a long pause.

“…Did the dessert have something in it?” Jake asked suddenly.

You snorted and tugged lightly at his hair in warning. He laughed, Jay did too, muffled against your side.

They say love is supposed to follow a pattern. Meet someone, fall, build a life. A straight line—clear and recognizable. Love that fits neatly inside boxes, easy to explain, easier to accept.

But your story was never built that way.

They say love like this shouldn’t last. That it’s too unconventional, too complicated, too much to hold. But you’ve learned that the best things in life rarely follow a script. 

"We don't have to follow anyone else's path."

It stuck with you. And he was right. This love—yours, Jay’s, and Jake’s—it was never meant to fit into the lines drawn by someone else.

Love, you’ve learned, is not about being easy. It’s about being worth it.

And this—this messy, gentle, beautifully unexpected life you’ve built—is more than just worth it.

Unwritten. Unconventional. Undeniably full.

And maybe, just maybe… too sweet.

NOTE:

Here’s a quick but important sex ed reminder:

This is fiction. That means some of the things the characters do aren’t meant to be copied in real life. One important example: going from anal sex to vaginal sex without cleaning in between is not safe.

Why? Because the anus and the vagina have totally different bacteria. The rectum naturally contains bacteria like E. coli, which, while usually harmless in the gut, can cause infections if they get into the vagina. This can lead to issues like bacterial vaginosis, urinary tract infections (UTIs), or even more serious complications.

So in real life, always clean up before switching between anal and vaginal sex — either by using a new condom or thoroughly washing first. Always, always practice safe sex.

[wonnienyang]

𝙐𝙣𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙮 | 𝙋.𝙅.

Pairing — Crush Best Friend! Park Jongseong x (F) Reader

Synopsis — You’ve always had a crush on Lee Heeseung ever since he gave you a note, also considering the fact he was one of the most popular boys in school. Considering being popular yourself, you just can’t seem to get his attention no matter what you do. So you decide to fake date Jay, Heeseung's best friend, to get Heeseungs attention. Despite thinking that Jay hates you, you go along with the plan, hoping that Heeseung will finally notice you. As the charade progresses, you found out Heeseung is attracted to people who are experienced. However, you’re a virgin. So why not ask Jay to take your virginity? No feelings will be involved, right?

Genre — Smut, High School au, Angst, Fluff

Warnings — MINORS DNI!!!, Cursing, Partying, One sided love, Crying, Drinking, Miscommunications, Jealousy, Break ups, Misunderstanding, Lying, Eating out, Breath play, Grinding, Hickeys, Slow sex, Phone sex, Fingering, Jerking off, Dirty talk, Humiliation, Overstimulation (f), Dom! Jay x Sub! Reader, Missionary, No protection (wrap it up), Aftercare, Receiving (m&f), Jealous sex, Making out, Doggy style, Spanking, Hair pulling, Orgasm Control, Rough sex, Name calling (Good girl, Babe, etc.), Choking, Multiple orgasms, Breeding kink, Blowjob, lmk if I missed any!

W.c — 16.8k

A/n — I had to rewrite so many of this because I wasn’t satisfied but I finally finished it! I never made a fic that has more than one sex scene so bear with me on that ^^ If you would like to be on the perm tag list, click here! Like, reblog, comment, etc.! Hope you enjoy! Not proofread!

Masterlist here!

The school courtyard was buzzing with energy as students milled about, chatting and laughing. You, being one of the popular students, were used to the attention and the constant buzz around you.

Today, however, felt different. You decided to take a moment for yourself and sat down on one of the benches, enjoying the brief respite from the chaos.

As you were scrolling through your phone, lost in your own world, a shadow fell over you. Looking up, you saw a guy you vaguely recognized from one of your classes. He was holding something in his hand, and he looked a bit teasing.

"Hey," he said, shifting from foot to foot, “This is for you."

You raised an eyebrow, curious, “From who?"

He pointed across the courtyard, and your eyes followed his gesture. There, standing with a group of his friends, was Lee Heeseung, one of the school's star basketball players. He was tall, with an athletic build, and a smile that could light up a room. Your heart skipped a beat as you took in his appearance. He was undeniably attractive.

The guy handed you a small envelope and quickly walked away, leaving you to process what had just happened. You looked down at the envelope, your curiosity piqued. Opening it, you found a simple note inside:

Hey, I noticed you sitting here and thought you might like this.

You glanced back at Heeseung, who was now looking your way. When your eyes met, he gave you a small, confident smile and a nod. You felt your cheeks heat up, and your heart leaped in your chest. You gave him back a shy smile and waved. It wasn't every day that someone like Lee Heeseung noticed you, let alone sent you a note and a candy bar.

For the rest of the day, you couldn't get Heeseung out of your mind. His smile, the way he carried himself, and the fact that he had gone out of his way to send you a note – it all made your heart race. You found yourself looking forward to seeing him again, wondering if there might be more to this unexpected connection.

That happened about a month ago. Now, you’re still here waiting for him to make a move, and yet he hasn’t. You thought he was just a shy guy which was probably why he gave you a note, but you smiled back at him. So wouldn’t that give him a hint?

You were sitting in the library, deeply engrossed in your studies. The upcoming exams were looming over you, and you wanted to make sure you were fully prepared. The library was quiet, with only the soft rustling of pages and the occasional whisper breaking the silence. You were so focused on your work that you didn't notice Kazuha approaching until she was right beside you.

“Hey, are you going to the bonfire this weekend?" Kazuha asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

You looked up from your books, a bit surprised by her sudden appearance, “I wish I could, but I can't," You replied, sighing, "I have so much to study for, and I really need to focus."

Kazuha pouted, clearly disappointed, "Come on, you need a break! You've been studying non-stop. Plus, it's going to be so much fun. Everyone's going to be there!"

You hesitated, knowing she was right. You had been pushing yourself hard, and a little break wouldn't hurt. But the thought of falling behind on your studies made you nervous, "I don't know, Kazuha. I really need to do well on these exams."

Kazuha wasn't giving up that easily. She leaned in closer, her eyes pleading, “Please? Just for a few hours? You deserve to have some fun too.”

Seeing your hesitation, Kazuha pressed on, “Come on, it'll be great. You can study all you want after the party. Just think about it – a chance to finally talk to Heeseung!"

You sighed, feeling the weight of your decision, "Alright, fine. I'll go to the bonfire," You said, finally giving in, "But only for a little while."

Kazuha's face lit up with joy, "Yes! You won't regret it, I promise. It's going to be amazing."

As the weekend approached, you found yourself getting more and more excited about the bonfire. You spent extra time picking out an outfit, hoping to make a good impression. When the night of the party finally arrived, you felt a mix of nerves and anticipation.

The bonfire was located at the beach. The ocean flowed softly together as the moon shone over the people. There was loud music playing and it was filled with people dancing and laughing. You scanned the crowd, looking for Heeseung. After a few minutes, you spotted him sitting down at the bonfire, talking to a group of friends.

You jumped when you suddenly felt hands around your arms, “You made it!” Kazuha squealed. You gave her a chimed smile.

“I did.” You replied. She grabbed your arm and took you to the bonfire where Heeseung was sitting and sat you across from him.

“I’ll be right back! Here’s a drink.” She said. She gave you a red cup and walked past people, disappearing into the crowd.

You sipped your drink as you scanned the faces illuminated by the flickering flames. Your eyes landed on Heeseung, who was sitting across from you, engrossed in a conversation with his friends. Despite the noise and the number of people around, he hadn’t seemed to notice you.

You decided to just look for Kazuha. You maneuvered through the crowd, your eyes scanning for Kazuha. The salty breeze carried the scent of the ocean, mingling with the smoky aroma of the bonfire.

As you rounded a corner, your attention momentarily diverted by a burst of laughter, you collided with someone. Your drink splashed out of your cup, drenching the front of a pristine white shirt. You looked up, your heart sinking as you recognized the face glaring down at you. It was Jay, and he did not look pleased.

"Watch where you're going," He snapped, his voice laced with irritation as he wiped at the damp stain spreading across his shirt.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, "Maybe you should watch where you're standing," You retorted, matching his tone with an edge of your own. It wasn't the first time you'd clashed with Jay, and it seemed like he always had an attitude with you.

Jay's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening, "Just be more careful next time," He said curtly before turning away, leaving you standing there with a mix of frustration and confusion.

As you walked away, you couldn't help but wonder why Jay always seemed to have it out for you. He was your crush's best friend, after all, and you couldn't understand why he always seemed so annoyed whenever you were around.

The thought lingered in your mind, adding a layer of complexity to the evening's events. The bonfire continued to burn brightly, but your thoughts were clouded with questions about Jay and his inexplicable attitude towards you. And how the hell Heeseung is friends with him.

You finally spotted Kazuha near the edge of the ocean, chatting with a few friends. Relief washed over you as you approached her, still feeling the sting of your encounter with Jay. Kazuha greeted you with a bright smile, but it quickly faded when she saw the look on your face.

"What's wrong?" She asked, concern evident in her voice.

You sighed, glancing around to make sure no one else was listening, "I'm just going to head home, Kazuha. Heeseung isn't paying any attention to me, and I just had a run-in with Jay. It's been a rough night."

Kazuha frowned, shaking her head, "No way, you're not leaving yet. I have an idea." Her eyes lit up with a mischievous glint, and before you could protest, she grabbed your hand and started pulling you back towards the bonfire.

"Kazuha, what are you doing?" You asked, trying to keep up with her determined pace.

"We're going to play Spin the Bottle," She announced loudly as you both reached the group. The chatter around the fire died down as everyone turned to look at her, "Come on, it'll be fun!"

You sighed, knowing there was no arguing with Kazuha when she got an idea in her head. Reluctantly, you sat down in the circle forming around the bonfire. Your eyes scanned the faces around you, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw Jay sitting next to Heeseung. He had thrown a flannel over his stained shirt, but you could still see the remnants of your drink on the fabric.

Jay's gaze met yours for a brief moment, and you quickly looked away, feeling a mix of embarrassment and annoyance. Heeseung, oblivious to the tension, seemed excited about the game, his smile lighting up the night.

As the bottle was placed in the center and the first spin began, you couldn't help but feel a sense of dread and anticipation. As you glanced at Kazuha, her encouraging smile gave you a bit of comfort.

The game of Spin the Bottle was in full swing, and you watched as the bottle spun and landed on different people around the circle. Laughter and cheers filled the air each time someone was chosen, but so far, the bottle hadn't landed on you. You tried to keep your cool, but the anticipation was starting to get to you. Kazuha, sitting beside you, noticed your growing unease and gave you a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry, your turn will come," She whispered.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the bottle slowed and came to a stop, pointing directly at you. Your heart raced as all eyes turned to you. Before you could react, Kazuha stood up and clapped her hands to get everyone's attention.

"Okay, since I started the game, I get to choose who she kisses!" She declared. A chorus of groans and protests erupted from the group.

"That's not fair!" Someone shouted.

"You can't just make up rules!" Another voice chimed in.

Kazuha held up her hands to calm everyone down, "Come on, it's just one time. Let me have this," She pleaded, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Reluctantly, the group quieted down, and Kazuha turned to you with a knowing smile.

"I choose Heeseung," She said triumphantly. Your heart skipped a beat as you looked over at Heeseung. He met your gaze, and you saw a smirk slowly spread across his face. For a moment, you thought he was going to stand up and come over to you, but then he turned his head and looked at Jay.

"Actually, I think Jay should do it," Heeseung said, his voice filled with amusement.

The entire circle fell silent, and you could feel the shock ripple through the group. Kazuha's mouth fell open, and you were just as stunned. Jay, sitting next to Heeseung, looked equally surprised, his eyes wide as he glanced between you and Heeseung.

"Uh, what?" Jay stammered, clearly caught off guard.

Heeseung's smirk grew wider, "You heard me. Go ahead, Jay."

You felt a mix of emotions swirling inside you—confusion, embarrassment, and a strange sense of curiosity. Jay didn’t stand up and it seemed like forever.

Kazuha immediately tried to interject, "No, Heeseung, I really think—"

But before she could finish, Jay stood up abruptly, "I'll do it," He said firmly, cutting her off. The determination in his voice shocked everyone, especially you. Your heart pounded in your chest as Jay walked towards you, each step making you more nervous.

As Jay got closer, you could feel your palms getting sweaty. The room seemed to close in around you, and your mind raced with a thousand thoughts. Just as he was leaning in, his eyes locked onto yours, you felt a surge of panic. You couldn't do this.

Without thinking, you bolted up from your seat and ran from the scene. You heard Kazuha calling your name, but you ignored her, your feet moving faster than ever. You pushed through other group of people and sprinted to your car, fumbling with your keys in your haste. Finally, you unlocked the door, jumped in, and slammed it shut behind you.

Sitting in the driver's seat, you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. You didn’t know why you felt so nervous to kiss Jay. Maybe it was because of the incident? You weren’t sure as you started your car and drove him.

As you drive home, the city lights blur past your window, casting a warm glow inside your car. The hum of the engine is a comforting background noise, and you find yourself lost in thought about the day's events. The streets are quiet, and you feel a sense of calm as you pull into your driveway.

Once inside, you kick off your shoes and head straight to your room. As you settle down, you notice a missed call from Kazuha. You quickly dial her back, and she picks up almost immediately.

“Hey, are you okay?” Kazuha’s concerned voice comes through the line.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You reply, though your mind is still racing, “I just didn’t know what to do.”

Kazuha sighs softly, “Jay didn’t seem mad that you left, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You pause, biting your lip, “Why would Heeseung want Jay to kiss me, though?”

“I don’t know,” Kazuha admits, “Heeseung seemed normal about it, but he left after a while.”

You nod, even though she can’t see you, “Thanks, Kazuha. I’m just going to head to bed now. Talk tomorrow?”

“Of course. Goodnight,” She says.

“Goodnight,” You reply, ending the call. You lie down, thoughts still swirling but feeling a bit more at ease. Tomorrow is a new day. You close your eyes, anticipation and confusion bubbling within you as you drift off to sleep.

The next morning, you wake up with a mix of excitement. After a quick shower, you pick out a cute but comfortable outfit, knowing you'll be out for a while. As you're finishing up, you get a text from Kazuha saying she's on her way to pick you up for a shopping trip.

When Kazuha arrives, you hop into her car, and you both chat about random things on the way to the mall. The mall is bustling with people, and the two of you dive into various stores, trying on clothes and laughing at some of the more outrageous fashion choices.

After a couple of hours, you both decide to take a break and stop at a cozy coffee shop. As you sip on your drink, Kazuha turns to you with a serious look.

“So, are you ever gonna shoot your shot with Heeseung?” She asks, raising an eyebrow.

You sigh, stirring your drink absentmindedly, “I don’t know how to get closer to him.”

Kazuha taps her chin, then suddenly her eyes light up, “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you fake date someone close to him? That’s like one of the top things people do.”

You blink, processing her suggestion, “Who?”

Kazuha rolls her eyes at your cluelessness, “Jay, duh.”

You choke on your drink in shock, staring at her, “I can’t ask that of Jay after that incident!”

Kazuha just shrugs, “Why not? You talk to Jay the most out of Heeseung’s friends.”

You shake your head, feeling overwhelmed, “Jay hates me.”

Kazuha leans back, a smirk playing on her lips, “He was gonna kiss you either way. Just try.”

You sit there, thinking about it. The idea is crazy, but maybe it’s just crazy enough to work. You glance at Kazuha, who’s watching you expectantly, and nod slowly, “Okay, I’ll try.”

Kazuha grins, and you feel a flutter of anticipation. You weren’t sure if this stupid plan was gonna work, but as Kazuha says, she’s always right.

After spending the day shopping and chatting with Kazuha, you finally head back home, bags in hand and a lot on your mind. Kazuha's words echo in your head: "Just try." You can't help but think about how crazy the idea is, but a part of you is curious about what might happen if you actually went through with it.

As you flop onto your bed, you decide to check your phone. There's a message from Kazuha with a link to Jay's Instagram. Your heart races as you open the app and see his profile. You feel a wave of nervousness wash over you, but you remember Kazuha's encouragement. Taking a deep breath, you decide to go for it. You hit the follow button and then, with trembling fingers, you start typing a message.

l/n.y/n: Jay, are you single?

You type, wincing at how blunt it sounds. But it's too late to back out now. You hit send and toss your phone aside, feeling a mix of dread and anticipation.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzes. You pick it up and see a notification from Instagram. It's a message from Jay. Your heart pounds as you open it, wondering what his response will be.

js_park_: What do you want

You pouted at his bluntness. This was gonna be harder than expected. You decided to just go along and get it over with.

l/n.y/n: I need your help. Like really bad. This may come out weird to you, but I need you to fake date me cause I have a crush on Heeseung and he just doesn’t seem to notice me and since your a good friend of his I was hoping you would go along with it. Once he likes me back you don’t have to talk to me at all or even see my existence! So what do you say?

He read it almost immediately making your heart skip a beat. About a few seconds later he responded back.

js_park_: I’d see you all the time then if you date Heeseung. So no.

You groaned stressed out. He was making this way to hard for you. You knew you couldn’t ask any of his other friends. Jake’s taken, and Sunghoon just straight seems like he doesn’t want no fake dating or a real relationship. You tried to think of another idea. That’s when you suddenly remembered something. You quickly texted back urgently.

l/n.y/n: I’ll get you that guitar you’ve been talking about in class.

js_park_: Cost a lot of money, but if you insist. So when are we starting?

You pumped your fist up in victory. You decided to just start as quick as possible and texted him the details.

l/n.y/n: Tomorrow. Pick me up first thing in the morning and we NEED to show PDA. I don’t like it either but if we need to get Heeseung attention then that’s what we should do. Oh and also, no kissing.

js_park_: Or, we could exchange numbers instead of texting here? It’s weird.

You rolled your eyes.

l/n.y/n: [xxx-xxx-xxxx]. That’s my number.

js_park_: Alright, text you tomorrow.

l/n.y/n: 👍

Seen

You took a deep breath in and out. All you have to do is just show PDA. Nothing too serious. And besides, no kissing will be involved, so you have nothing to worry about. Right?

You wake up to the sound of your phone ringing. Still groggy, you reach over and grab it, expecting to see Kazuha's name on the screen. Instead, you're surprised to see Jay's name flashing. Confused, you answer the call.

"Hello?" you mumble, rubbing your eyes.

"Hey, where do you live?" Jay's voice comes through the speaker, sounding wide awake and slightly amused.

“Jay? What?" you ask, still half-asleep and trying to make sense of the situation, "It's early," You add, glancing at the clock. It's barely past dawn.

"Yeah, I don't know if you knew, but I have morning basketball practice," He replies sarcastically, making you smile despite your confusion.

"Oh, right," You say, suddenly remembering, "Uh, my address is [123 Address Name]."

"Great, I'm on my way," He says before hanging up.

You sit up in bed, trying to shake off the last remnants of sleep. Realizing you don't have much time, you quickly get dressed, throwing on your uniform and running a brush through your hair. Just as you're finishing up, your phone buzzes again.

Jay: I'm here.

You take a deep breath and head outside, finding Jay's car parked in front of your house. You walk over and open the passenger door, sliding in.

"Morning," You say, still a bit dazed but excited.

"Morning," Jay replies with a grin, "Ready to start the day?"

You nod, giving him a tired smile. Jay starts the car, and you both drive towards the school. The early morning streets are quiet, and the sun is just beginning to rise, casting a soft glow over everything. You can't help but feel a little nervous but also excited about this unexpected start to your day.

When you arrive at the school, Jay parks the car, and you both get out. He leads the way to the gym, where you can already hear the faint sounds of basketballs bouncing and sneakers squeaking on the court. As you enter the gym, you see some of Jay's teammates warming up and chatting.

Jay turns to you with a teasing smile, "So, are you gonna give me a hug goodbye?" He asks, clearly enjoying your embarrassment.

You feel your cheeks heat up, but you step forward and give him a quick hug. As you pull away, you hear Jake's voice ring out, "Since when did you guys start dating?"

You glance over and see Jake looking at you both with wide eyes, and Heeseung is there too, watching intently along with the rest of the team. You quickly say goodbye to Jay, avoiding Jake's question.

"Bye, babe," Jay says jokingly, earning a narrow glare from you before you turn to leave.

As you walk away, you hear Jake ask Jay again, "Seriously, dude, what's going on?"

Jay just pats Jake's shoulder with a knowing grin, "Don't worry about it," He says, leaving Jake and the others looking dumbfounded as he jogs over to join the rest of the team for practice.

You walked to the school doors, your heart racing with embarrassment. The plan to make Heeseung notice you has officially begun, and you can't help but feel a sense of anticipation for what will happen next.

Later that day, you finally have a class with Jay. As you both settle into your seats, you decide to fill him in on the rest of your plan.

"So, here's the deal," You begin, pulling out your schedule, "These are my classes, and I need you to walk me to each of them."

Jay groans, leaning back in his chair, "Do I really have to do all of that?"

"Yes," You insist, "I pass by Heeseung a lot between classes, and he'll definitely notice if we're always together."

Jay rolls his eyes but eventually relents, "Whatever," he mutters, clearly not thrilled but willing to go along with it.

As the class begins, you find it hard to focus. Your mind keeps drifting to the plan and how it might play out. Will Heeseung really notice? And if he does, will he care? You glance over at Jay, who seems more interested in doodling in his notebook than paying attention to the lecture.

Despite his nonchalant attitude, you can't help but feel grateful that he's willing to help you out, even if it means going through the motions of fake dating.

The rest of the class passes in a blur as you continue to mull over your thoughts. By the time the bell rings, signaling the end of the period, you've resolved to stick to the plan and see it through. You gather your things and look over at Jay, who gives you a small nod.

"Ready for the next class?" He asks, standing up and slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

"Yeah," You reply, feeling a renewed sense of determination. As you both walk out of the classroom holding hands, you noticed a lot of students whispering and looking at you guys. This was gonna be a lot tougher than you thought.

Jay walks you to your next class, and just as you're about to enter, you spot Heeseung walking past. Your heart leaps when he gives Jay a friendly smile. Then, Heeseung looks at you, and for a moment, everything seems to slow down. He nods, and you manage to return a nervous smile, feeling a mixture of excitement and anxiety.

Jay leaves with a casual wave, but not without giving a knowing smirk. You rolled your eyes and headed into the classroom, still replaying the brief interaction with Heeseung in your mind. You try to focus on your work, but your thoughts keep drifting back to that smile and nod. It feels like a small victory, a sign that your plan might actually be working.

When the bell rings, you gather your things and head to the cafeteria for lunch. You spot Kazuha sitting at your usual table and quickly make your way over to her.

"Hey, Kazuha," You say, sliding into the seat across from her. "You won't believe what just happened."

She looks up from her phone, curiosity piqued, "What happened?"

You recount the events of the morning, from Jay walking you to class to the moment with Heeseung. Kazuha listens intently, her eyes widening in surprise.

"I'm shocked Jay actually followed through," She says, shaking her head in disbelief.

You laugh, “Yeah, well, he's doing it for a guitar. But I'm definitely going to get on his nerves with this."

Kazuha chuckles, "Just make sure you don't drive him too crazy, We still need him for the plan."

You nod, feeling a bit more confident, "Don't worry, I won't. But I have to admit, it's kind of fun seeing him so annoyed."

As you both continue to chat and eat lunch, you feel a sense of anticipation building. The plan is in motion, and with a little luck, Heeseung will notice you more and more. For now, though, you're just glad to have Kazuha by your side, sharing in the excitement and uncertainty of it all.

After school, you meet up with Jay, so he can drive you home. As you settle into the passenger seat, Jay starts talking about a party Jake is hosting that night.

"Hey, there's a party at Jake's tonight. Do you want to come?" Jay asks casually, glancing over at you.

Before you can answer, he adds, "Heeseung is gonna be there."

Your heart skips a beat, and you quickly say, "Yes, I'll come."

Jay nods, a small smile playing on his lips, "Great. I'll pick you up at eight."

He drops you off at your house, and you head inside, already thinking about what to wear. Knowing you take a while to get dressed, you decide to start getting ready right away. As you rummage through your closet, you text Jay to ask if Kazuha can come too. A few minutes later, your phone buzzes with his reply.

Jay: Sure, she can come.

You feel a bit more at ease knowing your friend will be there. You call her up and tell her and she says she’ll be there.

After what feels like an eternity of trying on different outfits and experimenting with your makeup, you finally settle on a look that makes you feel confident. Just as you finish, you hear a car horn outside.

You grab your things and head out to find Jay waiting for you. He looks up as you approach, and you notice a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

"Do I look okay?" You ask, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious.

Jay gives you a once-over and nods, "You look fine," He says, though there's a hint of something more in his tone.

You smile, feeling a bit reassured, and hop into the car. As Jay drives to the party, you can't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. Tonight could be a turning point in your plan, you could only hope.

You and Jay finally make it to the party, and it's packed with people. The music is loud, and the atmosphere is electric. As you step inside, you see Jake making his way over to you. He dabs up Jay and then turns to you with a big smile.

"Glad you guys made it!" Jake shouts over the music.

You smile back, feeling a bit more relaxed. Jay suggests getting some drinks, and you follow him to the kitchen. As you chat and sip on your drinks, you suddenly spot Kazuha across the room. You wave her over and give her a big hug when she reaches you.

"Where's Heeseung?" Kazuha asks, glancing around.

You shrug, genuinely not knowing. Jay chimes in, "He might be in the living room."

"I'll go see," You say, eager to find him.

You make your way through the crowded house, but there's no sign of Heeseung in the living room. Just as you're about to turn back, you bump into someone. You look up and see Heeseung standing right in front of you.

"Oh, hey," He says, looking a bit surprised, "Where's Jay?"

"He's in the kitchen," You reply quickly. Then, thinking on your feet, you add, "I was just trying to get some fresh air.”

Heeseung nods and says, "Follow me."

Though you're unsure, you decide to follow him. You glance back, knowing Jay and Kazuha are waiting for you, but curiosity gets the better of you. Heeseung leads you through the house, and you can't help but wonder what he wants to talk about.

Heeseung leads you through the house, weaving past groups of people until you reach a quiet balcony. He gestures for you to go out first, and you step into the cool night air. Heeseung follows and sits down on one of the chairs, and you take a seat next to him.

He takes a sip of his drink and then looks at you, "So, what made you wanna date Jay?" He asks, his eyes searching yours.

You feel a pang of nervousness but manage to lie smoothly, "Oh, you know, he was always a handsome guy. And because we had a connection with the class we both chose, and it just felt right."

Heeseung hums thoughtfully and takes another sip of his drink, “Have you and him already had sex?" He asks casually.

You choke on your drink, coughing a bit before managing to say, "No, no, we haven’t."

He chuckles softly, "I knew it."

Confused, you look at him and ask, "Why do you say that?"

Heeseung leans back in his chair, a small smile playing on his lips, “Because," He begins, "I can tell when Jay has sex with someone, he gets more clingy to them if you know what I mean. And to you, he stays quite far, and yet almost close. Unless, you’re a virgin and taking it slow?"

Your heart races as you try to process his words. The plan you and Jay concocted to make Heeseung notice you seems to be unraveling right before your eyes. The night air feels colder, and the anticipation of what Heeseung said hangs heavily between you.

But not only were you thinking that, you were also thinking about Heeseung referring you as a virgin. Which, he is not wrong. You are a virgin, and you aren’t really proud to say that in front of him for some reason. You couldn’t help but question wether Heeseung liked virgins. So, you decided to fuck it and ask.

“Do you like virgins?” You questioned, your voice tinged with curiosity. Heeseung averts his gaze to you. His narrow eyes making you nervous, but he just scoffed.

“They’re alright. I guess it could be exciting in bed, teaching them what to do. But I prefer an experienced person. Because they know what they're doing in bed, and that’s a turn on.” He replied. You felt your mouth parting. Heeseung liked experienced people. And you were nowhere near experienced. You haven’t even had your first kiss.

You slowly nodded your head, “That's interesting.” You muttered and sipped your drink.

Heeseung let out a low chuckle, “So are you a virgin?”

You gulped harshly and stared down. You felt the air getting hotter and that’s when you decided to just lie, “No. I already had sex with someone.”

Heeseung whistled and leaned in closer to you, “L/n Y/n already had sex? Wonder who if it’s not Jay.” He joked. You let out a nervous laugh.

Before you could say something else, the glass door slid open revealing Jay. He catches you and Heeseung on the balcony, his eyes narrowing slightly, "I've been looking for you," He says, his gaze shifting between you and Heeseung, “Am I interrupting something?"

Heeseung smirks at you before standing up, "No, not at all," He replies smoothly, "I'll leave you two alone." With that, he walks back inside, leaving you and Jay alone on the balcony.

You remain quiet, the weight of the conversation with Heeseung still fresh in your mind. Jay looks at you with concern, “Are you okay?" He asks gently.

You force a small smile and nod, "Yeah, I'm just tired. I think I want to go home."

Jay nods understandingly, “Okay, let's go."

You both make your way back through the house, saying goodbye to your friends. You stop by Kazuha and tell her, "I'll text you when I get home."

She nods and waves, "Drive safe!"

As you and Jay get into the car, the silence feels heavy. Jay starts driving, and you suddenly blurt out, "Jay, about Heeseung..."

He glances at you briefly before focusing back on the road, "What about him?"

You hesitate, unsure of how to express the confusion and emotions swirling inside you. The plan to make Heeseung notice you has taken an unexpected turn, and you're not sure if you can ask Jay a personal question. You finally took a deep breath and faced Jay.

“Can you take my virginity?”

Jay slams the brakes, causing the car to jolt to a sudden stop. He stares at you in shock, his eyes wide, “What?" He says loudly, making you flinch.

You take another deep breath and repeat, "Can you take my virginity?”

Jay takes a moment to process your words, then tells you, "Wait a second." He pulls over to the side of the road and turns to face you fully, "What's wrong? What did you and Heeseung talk about?"

You bite your lip and explain everything to him—the plan to make Heeseung notice you, the unexpected feelings that surfaced, and the confusion you're feeling now. Jay just stares at you, taking it all in. He sighs deeply and says, "You should wait for the right person."

You shake your head, feeling a surge of determination, "I want it to be with you, Jay."

Jay thinks for a long minute, his expression serious. Finally, he asks, "Are you sure?"

You nod confidently, "Yes."

"When?" He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Today," You reply firmly, "Come inside my house."

Jay takes a deep breath and starts the car again. The drive to your house is filled with a charged silence, both of you processing the gravity of what was just said.

As you pull into your driveway, you feel a mix of nervousness. Jay parks the car and turns to you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, you both step out of the car, heading to your door.

Jay follows you inside your house, and you both take off your shoes and jackets, placing them neatly by the door. Jay glances around and asks, "Before we do anything, is your mom home?"

You shake your head, "No, she's on a business trip."

Jay nods, seeming to relax a bit. "Are you thirsty?" You ask, trying to break the tension.

He shakes his head, "No, I'm good."

You lead him up to your room, and he takes a moment to examine it, looking at the posters on the walls and the books on your shelves. You sit on your bed, feeling the weight of the moment.

Jay turns to you and asks, "Have you changed your mind at all?"

You look him straight in the eyes and say firmly, "No."

Jay nods, taking a deep breath. The room is filled with a charged silence, the air thick with anticipation. He moves closer, sitting beside you on the bed, his expression serious and thoughtful.

“You said no kissing, right?” He asks. You slowly nodded your head, but his lips did look kissable right now.

“Then this is gonna be somewhat awkward then.” He admits. You giggle and wrap your arms around his neck.

“J-Just start somewhere, please.” You whisper. Jay cursed and wrapped his hands firmly on your waist. You closed your eyes, waiting for him to do something.

You gasped when you suddenly felt his soft lips on your neck. It started off slow, his lips moving along your neck, giving it pecks here and there. You leaned your head more back to grant him access.

You felt his lips form a grin before he opened his mouth and gave you a gentle bite on your neck, giving it a soft suck. You let out breathy sighs feeling him getting a bit harsher and pushed you back. His lips never leave your neck.

He sucked all around your neck and jaw. You wrapped your legs around his waist and bucked. He let out a growl and pushed your hips back making you whine. He faced you and lowered his eyes to your lips that were parted. God, did he want to make them plump and red.

Instead of doing it, he went to your chest and kissed it. He slowly traced your back before unzipping the back of your dress. You felt nervous and urgent, lifting yourself up a bit to let your dress come off. You took the straps off revealing your bra and underwear.

You shyly bit your finger as Jay stared. You couldn’t help but feel his eyes wandering around your whole body like hands. He suddenly lifted a hand to fondle with your breast making you let out a gasp and eyes closed shut. His other hand rubbing your cloth core.

You moaned and squirmed against his hold, trying to get away, but he held you down.

“Just relax pretty.” He whispered in your ear. You nodded your head although your breathing was saying otherwise. Jay felt your wet pussy clenching around nothing making him chuckle. You really were urgent.

He unclasped your bra revealing your perky breasts. He leaned down and flicked his tongue against one of your breasts causing you to grip his soft jet black hair, “ah- jay!” You cried out.

The flicking soon turned into sucking harshly. You snaked, not knowing what to do yourself. He gave attention to the other one by fondling it.

Your breathing was ragged and breathless. Your eyes were teary, and he didn’t even put his dick in yet. You guessed you now knew what Heeseung meant by experienced people who are better in bed.

Jay lets go of your breast and leans over your cloth pussy. He planted soft kisses and put your legs over his shoulders, pulling you softly against his body. He moved your panties to the side revealing your slick pussy. You tried to close your legs in embarrassment, but he forced them back open.

“Don’t be shy now. You wanted this, remember?” He teased. You let out a quiet whine. It all went too fast when you suddenly felt a hot wet sensation licking your pussy slow. Your eyes rolled back, feeling Jay's tongue going deep in your pussy and sucking on your bud. Your moans could no longer be held back, letting them out freely for the neighbors to hear.

“J-Jay ah- wait!” You cried out feeling your orgasm coming faster than you anticipated. Jay didn’t stop, feeling your pussy tighten and open and before he knew it too, his tongue was getting covered by your juices. You shook lightly and jerked when he flicked his tongue on your bud teasingly.

He latched his mouth off your pussy and licked his lips while staring at you breathing deeply. Jay loved the view, your hair messy, eyes teary, mouth agape with saliva trailing down, mascara streaks on your cheeks. He wanted to ruin you more.

As he took off his shirt, you noticed his body was pretty toned. You’d have to ask him later if he workout often. He took off his pants with his boxers finally revealing his dick. You gasp at his size. Is that even gonna fit? You gulped nervously.

Jay noticed your face and smiled, “It’s okay, I’ll go slow. For now.” He said. You nodded and slowly put your hand on your pussy, opening your folds to let Jay see your hole.

Jay's eyes widened at your sudden confidence for a second before his eyes turned dark, “Someone getting confident? I should lower that.” He mumbled. Before you could ask what he meant, he leaned over you and positioned his dick at your hole and slowly pushed in.

You felt the air get knocked out your lungs and immediately wrapped your arms around his neck. You squeezed around him tightly making him hiss, “Shit, relax will you?” He complained.

“I-It’s not my fault you suddenly did that!” You snapped, still feeling pain. Slowly, you tried to relax your breathing and soon enough, he was fully in.

You let out a ragged breath feeling him in you. He felt so big and you felt so full. Jay watched your face, making sure he wasn’t hurting you in any way. He knows he’s big.

“M-Move.” You panted. Jay nodded even though you probably didn’t see him and slowly he moved. He kept a slow steady pace, watching your every move and facials. He saw your eyebrows furrow and you lolled your head back.

That’s when Jay started going at a faster pace and soon you both were moaning and panting against each other. Both of your bodies are sweaty and sticking together. The sound of skin slapping, the bed creaking, and your unison moans were heard all over your room.

Jay gripped your waist and lifted his upper body up, leaving you to clench your sheets as he thrusted up into you. You felt your eyes roll back feeling his mushroom tip hit against just the right spots.

Jay groaned, feeling you squeezing around him. He felt his orgasm coming quicker than usual. Probably considering he hasn’t had sex in a while or your pussy just felt too good. He thinks it’s the second one.

You felt your orgasm coming and whimpered, “I-I think I’m c-cumming- hah!” You moaned and shut your eyes. Jay let out a breathy laugh and slowed down his thrusting, going harder and deeper. And that’s when your orgasm came.

You let out a silent moan feeling him still thrusting into you hard. You squirmed harshly and overstimulated before he took out his dick and stroked it on your stomach, his cum spurting out on you.

You both panted at the intense orgasm before Jay got off your bed and went to your bathroom. He came back with a washcloth and slowly cleaned you up. Your breathing calmed feeling him lay beside you and rubbing your back softly.

“I can’t believe we had sex.” You said. Jay snorted and leaned on his hand.

“You’re just now thinking that? I can’t believe you wanted me to be your first.” He admitted. You stared at him before giggling. You both soon started laughing together.

You suddenly felt your eyes get droopy and yawned. Jay noticed and smiled, “You can sleep.”

You pouted, “Are you leaving?”

He shook his head, “I can stay a while longer if you want me too.” You nodded and cuddled against his warm body. He held your waist, seeing your eyes finally closing and hearing soft snores leave your mouth.

He slowly leaned in, but stopped. He has to stick with the plan. He furrowed his eyebrows and slowly got off your bed, putting your blanket over your naked body. He got dressed and gave you one last look before softly shutting your door.

The next morning, you wake up with a start, realizing you're late for school. You quickly grab your phone and call Jay. His groggy voice answers, confirming he also overslept.

"Hey, you awake?" You ask, still feeling the remnants of sleep.

“Yeah, just woke up," Jay replies, his voice thick with sleep. You giggled hearing his tired voice. You heard a slight hum from him.

“We’re late Jay.” You said, not sure if he knows. It takes a few seconds before he finally understand and curses, saying he’ll pick you up soon.

You quickly get dressed in your uniform, noticing a slight soreness from the previous day. You get a text from Jay and you rush outside to find Jay already waiting in his car. You hop in, and he gives you a sympathetic look.

"Rough morning, huh?" He says with a small smile.

"Yeah, you could say that," You reply, buckling your seatbelt.

The drive to school is quick, both of you silently cursing your luck for waking up late. Jay pulls into the school parking lot and parks the car, "I'll see you later," He says, giving you a reassuring nod as you head to your class.

You walk into your classroom, feeling the eyes of your classmates on you. Your teacher looks up from her desk and says, "You're late."

You feel a wave of embarrassment wash over you as you mumble an apology and quickly take your seat. You start to work, trying to focus on the lesson and ignore the feeling of everyone's eyes on you.

Class went by fast as you quickly pack your stuff and heading out the hallway only to bump into someone, “Agh! Sorry! I wasn’t looking-“ Your eyes widened seeing Heeseung.

He gave you a knowing grin, “Someone looks like they didn’t get good sleep last night.”

You blushed and shook your head, “I just stayed up late studying! T-That’s all!” You ranted. Heeseung chuckled and leaned near your space, feeling his hot breath on you.

“It’s okay to be honest. I know what you did.” He said before leaning back, walking past you. You stared into nowhere where he was just at, your eyes wide. Does he really know? Did Jay tell him?

As you looked around you finally caught a glimpse of Jay walking towards you, “Hey, sorry for the wait. Jake was nagging-“

“Did you tell Heeseung what we did?” You ask, feeling nervous. Jay eyebrows furrowed.

“Uh, no? Why?” He replied. You shook your head, ignoring his question. You say never mind as you both head to your next class. You were now hoping Heeseung was just joking.

Class went by smoothly with Jay by your side. Both of you partners for an upcoming project. When it's finally lunch, you meet Kazuha in the cafeteria. She takes one look at you and asks, "Are you okay? You look like you're constipated."

You glare at her, feeling a mix of irritation and embarrassment, “Gee, thanks for the concern," You reply sarcastically. You then let out a sigh, “Don’t freak out, but I had sex with Jay last night.”

Kazuha raises an eyebrow for a few seconds before yelling, “You had sex with who?” She shouts.

It catches you completely off guard. You can't help but let out a yell, drawing the attention of nearby students hearing you guys yell, “Shhh! Be quiet!" You hiss, trying to calm the situation.

"Why?" Kazuha asks, genuinely curious.

You lean in closer and whisper, "It's because of Heeseung."

Kazuha's eyes widen in surprise. "Wait, was it good?" She asks, a smirk forming on her lips.

You nod, a small smile playing on your face, “Yeah, it was really good."

Kazuha chuckles, shaking her head. "As expected of Jay," She says, and you both burst into laughter.

As lunch comes to an end, Kazuha turns to you and asks, "Hey, do you want to hang out at my house after school?"

You smile and nod. "Yeah, that sounds great."

After school, you find Jay near the parking lot and tell him, "Hey, I'm gonna ride with Kazuha today."

Jay nods, looking relieved. "Good, I have basketball practice and didn't want you waiting around for me."

You smile and wave, "Bye, Jay. See you later!"

You head over to Kazuha, who is waiting by her car, "Ready to go?" She asks with a grin.

"Yeah, let's go," You reply, hopping into her car.

As you drive to Kazuha's house, she mentions, "There's gonna be a basketball game soon. Are you gonna go?"

You hesitate for a moment before saying, "Maybe." In truth, you know you're definitely going because Heeseung is playing. But as your mind wanders, you also think about Jay and quickly shake off the thought.

Once you arrive at Kazuha's house, you both decide to make cookies. The kitchen fills with the sweet aroma of baking as you mix ingredients and laugh about the day's events. After the cookies are in the oven, you settle down in the living room to watch some romance movies.

You both get completely absorbed in the films, crying at the sad parts and cheering at the happy endings. The evening flies by in a mix of emotions and laughter.

By the time the cookies are ready, you both enjoy the warm, gooey treats while discussing the characters and plot twists. It's a perfect way to unwind and forget about the day's drama, even if just for a little while.

As you and Kazuha were gossiping, Kazuha asks you a question that catches you off guard, “So, you and Jay huh? You like him?” She asks. You stare at her confused.

“What are you talking about? I don’t like him.” You say, although for some reason you felt your heart race. Kazuha grins and playfully pushes you.

“Then why out of all people would you want him to take your virginity?” She adds. You thought for a moment.

“Because, I don’t know. I just felt comfortable with him.” You admitted. Kazuha stares at you for a moment before nodding.

“You like Heeseung, not Jay.” She said. And for some reason, that statement felt weird to you.

Before you could speak, you suddenly felt your phone vibrate and curiously looked at the caller ID. It was Jay. You answered while laughing at what Kazuha said about his photo you saved of him.

“Hey, what’s up?” You ask while taking a bite out of your cookie.

“I got done with practice. Was just wondering if you need a ride back home.” He admitted. You let out a hum and looked over at Kazuha before answering.

“Yeah that’s fine.” You beamed.

“Alright, send me the address and I’ll be on my way.” He spoke. You said okay and hung up.

Jay arrives at Kazuha's house and you give Kazuha a big hug and say, "Thanks for today, it was so much fun! See you later!"

"Anytime! Bye!" Kazuha waves as you head to Jay's car.

You slide into the passenger seat and start chatting about your day, "Kazuha and I made cookies and watched some romance movies. We cried so much at the endings!"

Jay listens attentively, a small smile playing on his lips. Suddenly, he reaches over and swipes something off your lips with his thumb, “You had a bit of chocolate there," He says, licking his fingers, "Next time, make some for me too."

You blush, feeling your cheeks heat up, “Okay, I will," You mumble, a shy smile forming on your face.

The rest of the ride is filled with comfortable silence, and soon enough, you arrive at your house. You turn to Jay and say, "Thanks for the ride. See you tomorrow!"

“Anytime," Jay replies with a wink, "Goodnight."

You giggled and stepped out of the car, heading inside, your heart fluttering from the unexpected moment. You gripped your shirt. What is wrong with you?

Once you came inside, you decided to take a shower to relax. After finishing your shower, you wrap yourself in a cozy towel and head to your room. Just as you're about to get dressed, your phone rings. It's Jay calling. You quickly answer, "Hey, Jay. What's up?"

"Hey, are you going to the basketball game tomorrow?" He asks, sounding eager.

“Yeah, I am," You reply, smiling to yourself.

"Great! Maybe we can hang out after?" He suggests. You giggle how happy he sounded.

"Sure, sounds fun," You say, feeling a flutter in your stomach at his idea. As the conversation continues, you both start chatting about random things, laughing as he talks about Jake and Sunghoon play fighting at practice.

Suddenly, a memory of what happened in your room with Jay flashes in your mind, and you can't help but blush. Your words start to stumble, and you stutter, "Um, uh, yeah... funny, um..."

Jay's tone shifts to concern, “Hey, what's wrong?"

"N-nothing," You quickly reply, trying to shake off the embarrassment.

There's a brief silence on the other end before Jay says, "Is this about your bedroom?"

His words shock you, how the hell did he know? You then responded a little too fast, "No!"

Jay chuckles softly, "You sure? You sound pretty flustered."

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, "I'm fine, really.”

Silence was left on the other side, you nervously gulped, “Jay?”

No answer. You felt nervousness creep on you. Shit, what if he found it weird that you were thinking dirty? As you were about to say something, Jay cut you to it.

“Do you finger yourself?” He suddenly asked. You felt your breathing stop.

“W-What?” You ask. Jay let out a low breath. You could tell he was holding himself back. You weren’t sure from what though.

“I said, do you finger yourself? When you’re alone at home.” He asks again, but adding on. You felt your cheeks heat up and twirled your hair nervously. You wouldn’t say you do, but you thought of it more than once.

“N-Not really? I-I mean I think about it, but I don’t do it.” You admit. You heard a chuckle in the other line.

“Why not do it now that I’m on call with you?” He suddenly said, you blinked. He wants you to finger yourself, while he’s on call with you?

“How does that work?” You mumbled. Jay hummed and you heard rustling on the other line, as if he was getting comfy.

“Simple. You just finger yourself while I’m on call with you. Either you just do it alone, or I can guide you through while saying stuff to you. I might jerk off though.” He states. You thought for a moment, how is that simple? You’re gonna finger yourself on call with him? And he’s gonna jerk off? It’s already hard enough to talk through calls.

Jay noticed your quietness, “You don’t have too. It was just something to occupy ourselves-“

“Okay. I’ll do it.” You shyly said. Jay made a noise, as if he was surprised you actually said okay before he chuckled.

Jay's voice comes through the phone, "Are you on your bed right now?"

You glance around and realize you're still standing by your dresser, “Uh, no, not yet," You admit, feeling a bit flustered.

"Go to it," He instructs, his voice gentle but firm.

You walk over to your bed and sit down, the soft mattress sinking slightly under your weight, “Okay, I'm on my bed now."

"Good," Jay says, a hint of satisfaction in his tone, "Now, I want you to lie down and relax."

You feel a wave of nervousness wash over you but comply, lying down and staring at the ceiling, "Alright, I'm lying down."

"Perfect," He continues, “Now, I want you to close your eyes and just listen to my voice. Let me do all the talking, okay?"

You nod, even though he can't see you, "Okay," You say softly, feeling a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

“I want you to take deep breaths, remember how I felt against you that night.” He spoke softly. You let out a anxious sigh and remembered that night. How his tongue felt against you. His hands move so smoothly against your skin. His lips were plump and soft when he was kissing and sucking your neck.

Slowly, you lower your hand to your pussy and softly rub your bud. You let out a gasp and let out a quiet moan. You heard a sigh coming from Jay and heard ruffling against the line.

“W-What are you doing?” You breathed out, still rubbing your bud.

“Mind if I jerk off?” He casually said. You bit your lip and nodded before you replied yes. You cursed at yourself for being distracted. You heard the pants of Jays unzip fast and heard a soft hiss.

“What do I do now?” You muttered.

“Now imagine me between your legs, use your fingers and rub your folds. Then add a finger in. You can do that, yeah?” He breathed out. You let out a high moan listening to what he’s saying.

You rubbed your folds at a natural pace, feeling your juices squelching. You're sure Jay can hear because you heard a low groan from him and hearing skin slapping of his balls and his hand.

You imagined him laying on his bed, one phone in his hand while the other is wrapped around his hard dick. His body starts to sweat as his breathing gets uneven.

You shoved a finger in your hole and arched your back, letting out a pained moan. You forgot how tight you were. You slowly relaxed your breathing, remembering Jay’s voice when he told you too. Soon you started feeling pleasure and started fingering faster.

You forgot Jay was on the other line until you heard him letting out moans himself and hearing squelchy noises. You bit your lip and panted feeling an orgasm coming.

“J-Jay, want you in me.” You whispered. You added a second finger and cried out.

“F-Fuck! Yeah, want me in you? Want my dick to ruin your tight pussy?” He snapped. You nodded your head frantically even though he couldn't see you and came right on your fingers. You then heard Jay cursing one last time before hearing him breathe in and out unevenly.

After a few seconds you let out a giggle, "You were really good at this," you murmur, feeling a bit shy.

"Really? It’s my first time having phone sex," Jay replies, his voice filled with warmth and lust. Your eyes widened a little. You were his first phone sex? You felt a bit of pride knowing you were his first before chuckling.

“For some reason that makes me happy to hear.” You admit. You heard Jay chuckling and heard a yawn.

“If you’re tired, go to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You mumbled. Jay hummed before saying bye and hanging up after you said bye. You laid in bed staring at the ceiling. You can’t believe you had phone sex with him.

The next morning, you were already dressed for school. You twirled a little to make sure you look good. With a small smile, you grab your backpack and head out the door, making your way to Jay's car.

Jay is leaning against his car, waiting for you with a playful grin on his face, "Morning, sleepyhead. How'd you sleep after our little chat last night?" He teases.

You feel your cheeks heat up as you remember the night before, “Shut up, Jay," You mutter, trying to hide your embarrassment.

He just laughs, clearly enjoying your reaction, "Come on, let's get to school."

The drive is filled with light banter, and soon enough, you pull into the school parking lot. As you step out of the car, you suddenly spot Heeseung standing near the entrance, looking around as if he's waiting for someone.

You exchange a confused glance with Jay, who just shrugs, "What's Heeseung doing here?" You wonder aloud.

Before Jay can respond, Heeseung spots you guys and walks over to you guys, "Hey, I just got here and thought I'd walk to first period with you," He says, looking directly at you.

You feel your heart skip a beat and your face flushes, "O-Okay," You stammer, before Jay has a chance to say anything.

Jay raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment, simply giving you a knowing look. The three of you start walking together, and you can't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness.

As you walk, you catch Jay's amused expression out of the corner of your eye, but he remains silent, letting you enjoy the moment with Heeseung. What you don’t know though, is the swirling jealousy he feels too.

The school day flew by in a blur. Classes with Jay were the usual mix of teasing and casual conversation, nothing out of the ordinary. Lunchtime with Kazuha was also routine, filled with chatter about assignments and weekend plans. Before you knew it, the end of the school day approached, and you and Kazuha started getting ready for the basketball game.

As you enter the gym, the familiar sounds of sneakers squeaking on the floor and basketballs bouncing fill the air. You spot Jay practicing with his team, his focus intense. When he notices you, he breaks into a wide smile, and you can't help but smile back.

But then, out of the corner of your eye, you see Heeseung staring at you. His gaze is intense, almost as if he's trying to figure something out. The moment your eyes meet, he quickly looks away, leaving you feeling puzzled and a little flustered.

"Hey, the game's about to start," Kazuha's voice snaps you out of your thoughts. You turn to her, nodding as you push the confusing encounter with Heeseung to the back of your mind. Together, you find your seats and settle in, ready to cheer for the team.

The game was in full swing, and it was hard to tell which team would come out on top. You and Kazuha were on the edge of your seats, cheering enthusiastically along with the other spectators. Every basket, every pass, and every block were followed by shouts and applause from the crowd.

The score was tied, and the tension in the air was palpable. Jay was on the court, focused and determined. Every time he got the ball, the gym filled with excitement. The crowd roared, and you and Kazuha were no exception, shouting his name and clapping vigorously.

Finally, in the last few seconds of the game, Jay received the ball and, with an impressive maneuver, scored the final point. The sound of the whistle marked the end of the game, and the gym erupted in cheers. Your team had won.

You jumped out of your seat along with everyone else, clapping and shouting with joy. Jay, drenched in sweat but with a triumphant smile, looked over to where you were. He raised a finger, signaling number one, and you smiled back at him, feeling incredibly proud.

After the game, the gym began to empty out. Some people left, while others stayed behind to talk to the teammates. You noticed Jake and his girlfriend chatting near the bleachers. As you were watching them, someone suddenly jumped from behind you, making you jump in surprise. You thought it was Jay, but when you turned around, you saw it was Heeseung.

"How did I do?" Heeseung asked with a playful smile.

Out of kindness and sincerely, you responded, "You did amazing." Your heart leaped when he smiled at you, his eyes lighting up with genuine appreciation.

"Jay's in the locker room changing," Heeseung informed you.

“Okay," you replied, feeling a mix of emotions.

Heeseung seemed like he was about to ask you something, but before he could, Jay appeared, interrupting the moment.

“Hey, ready to go?” He asked. Heeseung closed his mouth and offered a grin to Jay. You nodded your head, but also confused about what Heeseung was gonna say.

“What were you gonna say Heeseung?” You said. Heeseung stared at you but then shook his head.

“Nothing. Have fun you two.” He teased before turning away and leaving to his other teammates.

You look over at Jay and shrugged. You both walked out while saying bye to the team. As you guys walked to his car, you couldn’t help but feel happy that they won.

“You guys did amazing! I mean especially with you! You did amazing out there Jay.” You smiled. Jay stared at you for a second before facing you. Your smile faltered a bit. Is he okay? You watched as he slowly started leaning in. You didn’t know what to do, but slowly, you closed your eyes.

And yet, nothing came. You opened your eyes to see that Jay was backed up and just stared at the ground, “I’ll drop you off home.” He spoke before going towards his car. You watched frozen. Were you actually gonna let him kiss you?

The car ride was filled with an awkward silence, both of you thinking about the incident where he almost kissed you. The tension was palpable, and neither of you knew how to break it.

When you finally reached your house, you turned to him and said, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah," He replied, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

"Congrats on the win, one more time," You added before getting out of the car.

"Thanks," Jay said, giving you a small smile.

You shut the door behind you and let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in. You made your way to your room, your mind racing. As you lay on your bed, you couldn't help but think about your feelings for Jay.

Maybe it was because you guys had spent so much time together recently, or maybe it was sex. Whatever it was, it had you feeling confused and unsure about what to do next. It didn’t matter though. You liked Heeseung and only Heeseung. Jay is just there to help.

It was getting dark when you were woken up by the sound of your phone ringing. Groggily, you reached over and answered it.

"Hello?" You mumbled, still half-asleep.

"Hey, were you sleeping?" Jay's familiar voice came through the line.

"Yeah, I was," You replied, sitting up and rubbing your eyes.

"Well, I was wondering if you wanted to go to a party tonight. Since we won and all," Jay said, sounding a bit excited. "This time, Heeseung is hosting it."

You thought about it for a moment, considering the invitation. The idea of seeing Heeseung again made your heart race a little, but you also felt a bit nervous about the whole thing. After a brief hesitation, you decided to go for it.

"Sure, why not," You said, trying to sound more awake and enthusiastic.

"Okay, I'll pick you up soon," Jay responded, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

You hung up the phone and quickly got out of bed, heading to your closet to find something to wear. As you got dressed, you couldn't help but think about your feelings with everything. Maybe the party won’t hurt.

As you finished getting dressed you got a text from Jay saying he was here. You grabbed your jacket and headed to his car. The drive was filled with chatting about random things.

Once you and Jay arrived at the party, the atmosphere was buzzing with energy. As you walked inside, you saw people dancing to the music. You turned to Jay and asked, "Do you want to dance for fun?"

"Sure," Jay replied with a smile.

Both of you joined the crowd and started moving to the beat of the music. You felt carefree and happy, enjoying the moment with Jay. Jay grabbed your waist and moved with you. You felt your heart beating faster and stared at him before smiling.

After a while, Jay leaned in and said, "I'm going to get some drinks. Do you want anything?"

"Okay, thanks," You responded, and Jay walked away toward the drinks table.

You continued dancing, letting the music take over. Suddenly, you felt someone behind you. Turning around, you saw Heeseung, which made you jump a little.

"You scared me!" You exclaimed, placing a hand on your chest.

"Sorry," Heeseung said with a grin, "Do you want to go somewhere so we can talk?"

You glanced around, looking for Jay, and told Heeseung, "I'm waiting for Jay."

"Oh, you're with Jay? I thought you guys broke up or something cause he’s with another girl," Heeseung said, pointing towards the drinks table.

Your eyebrows furrowed before you look over. There, Jay was standing with a cup in his hand, but another girl was talking to him. She laughed and touched up his arm and he let her. He seemed to be laughing too. For some reason, you felt a pang of hurt in your chest upon hearing that. Still, you nodded and said, "Okay, let's go."

Heeseung led you to a room upstairs. As you walked in, you looked around, examining the space. It was a cozy and well-decorated room.

"This is my room," Heeseung said, watching you, "I never let people in here. You're the first."

You felt surprised and a bit special hearing that, wondering what Heeseung wanted to tell you in private. So, you sat next to him.

You took a deep breath and turned to Heeseung, feeling a mix of curiosity and nervousness. "So, what did you want to talk about?" You asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Heeseung looked at you intently, his expression serious, "I wanted to ask you something," He began, "Are you and Jay really dating? Because it looks real, but not real enough to me."

You felt your heart race at his question. You were at a loss for words, trying to find a way to cover up the fake dating situation, "Uh, yeah, we are," you stammered, but Heeseung's piercing gaze told you he wasn't convinced.

"I can tell it's fake," He said softly, stepping closer to you. You stare down. You then felt a hand come up to your cheek, "If your relationship is not real, is it okay if I do this?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Before you could respond, he leaned in and kissed you. You could taste the faint hint of alcohol on his lips, and your mind went blank, not knowing how to react.

Just then, the door swung open, and you saw Jay standing there, his eyes wide with surprise, "Jay, I can explain," You blurted out, panic rising in your chest.

Jay held up a hand, cutting you off, "It's fine," He said, a strange look in his eyes, "You finally got him." With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you and Heeseung alone.

Heeseung looked confused, trying to process what Jay meant. But you couldn't stay any longer. You had to go after Jay, "I need to go," you said to Heeseung, rushing out of the room to find Jay and explain everything.

You rushed out of the room, your heart pounding as you pushed past people at the party. The music and chatter seemed like a distant hum as you focused solely on finding Jay. You finally spotted him near the exit, and you quickened your pace, calling out his name, “Jay, wait!"

He stopped and turned around, his expression unreadable. You caught up to him, breathless, "I didn't know what to do," You said, your voice trembling, “I didn't expect Heeseung to kiss me."

Jay looked at you, his eyes hardening, "Why are you so scared? Our relationship didn't mean anything," He said flatly.

His words stung, and you felt a pang of hurt. "Be honest with me, Jay," You demanded, your voice breaking, “Do you like me?"

There was a heavy silence as he looked at you, his face devoid of emotion. After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, "I never did."

You stood there, stunned, as he turned and walked towards his car. You watched him drive away, feeling a lump form in your throat. For some odd reason, you felt tears welling up in your eyes, and you stood there, heartbroken and alone.

You wiped your teary eyes, trying to compose yourself before heading back inside. The party was still in full swing, but everything felt different now. You spotted Heeseung across the room and made your way over to him, your heart heavy with mixed emotions.

Heeseung noticed you immediately, concern etched on his face, "Hey, are you okay?" he asked softly.

You ignored his question, your mind racing, "Heeseung, do you like me?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Heeseung looked at you, his eyes sincere, "I do," He said, "I really like you. And I want to make it official, if that's okay with you."

A small smile tugged at your lips as you nodded, "Yes, Heeseung. I'd like that."

Heeseung's face lit up with relief and happiness. He pulled you into a warm hug, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours. But as he kissed you, something felt off. The kiss was gentle and sweet, but it didn't stir the emotions you expected. There was a hollowness, a sense that something was missing.

You pulled away slightly, looking into Heeseung's eyes. He smiled at you, completely unaware of the turmoil inside you. You forced a smile back, trying to push away the lingering doubts. For now, you were with Heeseung, and that was what mattered.

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of your phone ringing. Half asleep, you glanced at the screen and, for a moment, thought it was Jay. But when you saw Heeseung's name, you remembered giving him your number the night before.

"Hello," You answered, trying to sound awake.

"Good morning," Heeseung replied cheerfully, "Can I pick you up? I'd like to take you to school."

"Sure," You said, sending him your address. You got out of bed and started getting ready, but something didn't feel right.

As you brushed your hair and picked out your clothes, you couldn't stop thinking about how it would feel if it were Jay calling you. The idea of hearing his voice on the other line filled you with a mix of nostalgia and sadness.

Finally, you were ready and went downstairs to wait for Heeseung. As you waited, you couldn't help but feel that something was missing. The excitement and spark you felt with Jay weren't there. But you tried to push those thoughts aside and focus on the present.

When Heeseung arrived, he greeted you with a big smile and a warm hug. You got into his car, trying to leave your doubts behind and enjoy the moment. But deep down, you couldn't ignore the feeling that something just didn't quite fit.

Heeseung drove you to school, the morning sun casting a warm glow over the streets. As you pulled into the parking lot, you noticed students glancing your way. Whispers and curious looks followed you both as you walked through the halls. It seemed like everyone had heard about you and Jay, and now seeing you with Heeseung was stirring up even more gossip.

You tried to ignore the stares and focused on Heeseung, who was chatting with you about the upcoming day. His presence was comforting, but the curious eyes around you made it hard to relax. As you reached your classroom, Heeseung turned to you with a smile.

"I'll see you later," He said, giving you a quick wave before heading off to his own class.

"Bye," You replied, watching him go. You took a deep breath and stepped into the classroom, trying to shake off the feeling of being watched.

The morning passed by in a blur of classes and assignments. What surprised you is that you didn’t see Jay in your second period. You just assumed he didn’t wanna see you.

When lunchtime finally arrived, you were gathering your things when Heeseung appeared at your classroom door.

“Hey, do you want to eat lunch with me, Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon?" He asked casually.

At the mention of Jay's name, you froze for a moment. Your mind raced, but you forced a smile and nodded, "Sure, that sounds great."

You shoot Kazuha a text before following Heeseung to the cafeteria, your heart pounding a little faster with each step. When you reached the table, you noticed Jay wasn't there. Jake and Sunghoon greeted you both with smiles, but you couldn't help but wonder where Jay was.

"Where's Jay?" Heeseung asked, looking around.

Sunghoon shrugged, "I called him, but he said he didn't want to come to school today."

Heeseung seemed to brush it off, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. As you sat down and joined the conversation, your thoughts kept drifting back to Jay. Why hadn't he come to school? The question lingered in your mind, even as you tried to focus on the friends around you.

After school, you approached Heeseung and told him you were going shopping with Kazuha and that she would give you a ride. Heeseung nodded and smiled at you.

"Okay, I’ll call you later," He said, waving goodbye.

You walked over to Kazuha, who was waiting for you in her car. Seeing you, she frowned with concern.

"Are you okay? You seem a bit down lately, even though you got Heeseung in the end," Kazuha commented as you got into the car.

"Yeah, I'm fine," You replied, trying to sound convincing.

The drive to the mall was quiet, with Kazuha chatting about the latest news while you nodded distractedly. When you arrived, Kazuha followed you as you walked towards a guitar shop.

"What are we doing here?" She asked, visibly confused.

Without responding, you headed straight to the guitar section and picked out an expensive guitar that you knew Jay had always wanted. Kazuha looked at you with wide eyes as you paid for it.

"Why did you buy that?" She asked, still in shock.

"I promised Jay I'd give him the guitar he always wanted," You explained, remembering the promise you had made.

Kazuha nodded slowly, recalling, "You're a good person," She said softly.

But inside, you couldn't help but feel differently. As you both left the store, you felt the guitar in your hands, and a weight in your heart.

For the past few days, you had been spending a lot of time with Heeseung. Everything seemed perfect, but you couldn't help but notice how distant Jay had become.

He barely acknowledged you in class, and it felt like he was avoiding both you and Heeseung. The once warm and friendly interactions had turned cold and distant, leaving you feeling uneasy.

One morning, as you finished your first period, Heeseung approached you with a smile, "Hey, did you know it's Jay's birthday today?" He asked casually.

You nodded, feeling a pang of sadness, "Yeah, I know," You replied.

"Well, he's having a small get-together after school, and he said you should come too," Heeseung continued, watching your reaction.

You were taken aback, "He said that?" You asked, surprised. Given how Jay had been ignoring you lately, you found it hard to believe he would want you at his birthday celebration.

"Yeah, he did. He said it's fine," Heeseung reassured you, sensing your hesitation.

You were still skeptical but decided to trust Heeseung, "Okay, I'll come," You agreed, hoping that maybe this could be a chance to mend things with Jay.

The school day passed slowly, with Jay continuing to ignore you in class. The tension was palpable, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. When the final bell rang, you met up with Heeseung, who seemed excited about the party.

As you and Heeseung drove to Jay's house together, you couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. There was a part of you that was nervous about seeing Jay, but another part that hoped this could be a turning point. When you arrived, you were greeted by a few of Jay's close friends, but Jay himself was nowhere to be seen.

Heeseung led you inside, and after a few minutes, Jay finally appeared. He looked surprised to see you but didn't say anything. Instead, he just gave you a small nod before turning his attention to Heeseung.

The party went on, but you couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place. Jay's distant behavior was confusing, and you wondered if coming here was a mistake.

However, as the night progressed, you noticed Jay stealing glances at you, almost as if he was trying to figure out what to say.

Finally, as the party was winding down, you decided it was time to give Jay his gift. Nervously, you approached him and handed him the case, "Happy birthday, Jay," You said softly.

Jay's eyes widened in surprise as he opened the case and saw the guitar, "You actually got this for me?" He asked, clearly stunned.

You nodded, "Yeah, I did. It's the least I could do after you helped me get Heeseung."

Jay looked at you, his expression softening, "I can't take this," He said, shaking his head.

"Please, take it. You deserve it," You insisted.

Jay finally accepted the guitar, his eyes filled with gratitude, "Thank you," He said sincerely.

You just smiled and went back to Heeseung, feeling a mix of emotions. Soon, the party ended, and as you and Heeseung were leaving, Jay called out, "Take care."

Heeseung gave Jay a hug, and Jay just gave you a smile. You smiled back, but deep down, you missed the warmth of the old Jay, the one who used to be close to you.

"Of course," You replied, trying to sound cheerful, "Happy birthday, Jay."

He gave you a small smile, and for a moment, it felt like things might be okay. But the distance between you was still there, and you couldn't help but think you had caused it in the first place.

The evening sky was painted with hues of orange and pink as Heeseung pulled up in front of your house. The car ride had been filled with comfortable silence, the kind that spoke volumes without needing words. As he turned off the engine, you hesitated for a moment before speaking.

"Do you want to come inside for a bit?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Heeseung looked at you, a small smile playing on his lips, “Sure, why not?"

You both got out of the car and walked to the front door. Once inside, you offered him a drink, and he accepted. The two of you settled on the couch, drinks in hand, and started talking about everything and nothing. As the conversation flowed, you couldn't help but bring up the question that had been nagging at you for a while.

"Heeseung, can I ask you something?" You began, your eyes searching his.

"Of course," He replied, leaning in slightly, his expression attentive.

“Why did it take you so long to talk to me?" You asked, your voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of sadness.

Heeseung looked taken aback for a moment, “What do you mean?"

"You know, before I started dating Jay," you clarified, “When we played spin the bottle.”

Heeseung shrugged bashfully, “To be honest, I’m not really sure. I was drunk and I was just saying whatever the hell. But I'm glad he didn’t kiss you.”

You giggled until you thought of another one, “It was cute though when you gave me that note."

Heeseung's face went from shy to confused, "What note?"

You got up and went to your room, returning with a small piece of paper, "This one," You said, handing it to him, "You gave it to me a few months ago."

Heeseung unfolded the note and read it, his brow furrowing, "I never gave this to you," He said, looking genuinely puzzled.

You frowned, "But a boy gave it to me and said it was from you."

Heeseung shook his head slowly, "I never wrote this."

A thought suddenly struck you, and you grabbed the note from Heeseung, examining it closely, "Wait a minute," You said, your eyes widening as realization dawned on you, "This looks like Jay's handwriting."

Heeseung's eyes widened in surprise, “Jay? Are you serious?"

You remember how his handwriting was when you guys passed notes back and forth in class out of boredom. You just didn’t look at the note for those past months. Everything suddenly clicked into place.

That boy that had given you the note, he was pointing at Jay, not Heeseung. Your heart raced as you pieced together the puzzle, feeling a mix of confusion and betrayal.

"It wasn't you," You whispered, more to yourself than to Heeseung, "It was Jay."

Heeseung reached out and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, "I'm sorry you had to go through that misunderstanding," He said softly, "But I'm here now."

You looked up at him, gratitude and warmth filling your chest. But at the same time, you couldn’t stop thinking about Jay, “H-Heeseung thank you, but the only reason why I liked you, was because I thought you gave me this note, and you liked me that long too.”

Heeseung's smile faltered. It was silent for a few seconds before he let out a sigh, “You like Jay, don’t you? All those times spent together really helped you find your one.”

“I guess I didn’t really know at all.” You muttered. Heeseung cupped your face, staring into your eyes. You could tell the sadness in his eyes.

“I don’t blame you for liking Jay, I blame myself for loving you too late.” He sadly smiled. You hugged him tightly, he wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his head in your neck.

As you stood there, the warmth of Heeseung's embrace enveloping you, you felt a mix of emotions swirling inside. Heeseung gently pulled back, looking into your eyes with a serious expression.

"You need to tell Jay," He said softly.

You nodded, understanding the weight of his words. Heeseung gave you one last reassuring smile before turning and walking away. You watched him leave, feeling a sense of finality.

Taking a deep breath, you pulled out your phone and dialed Jay's number. He picked up after a few rings, his voice laced with confusion, "Hey, what's up? Why are you calling?"

"Can you come over?" You asked, your voice trembling slightly.

Jay hesitated, "I don't think I should... because of Heeseung."

"We broke up," You said, your voice steadying. There was a pause on the other end, and then Jay spoke again, his confusion evident, "Wait, what? You broke up?"

"Just come over, please," You urged. You hanged up not wanting to hear him talk.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on your door. You opened it to find Jay standing there, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. Before he could say anything, you closed the distance between you and kissed him. Jay was taken aback but quickly responded, his arms wrapping around you.

When you finally pulled away, you looked up at him and said, "You were the one who gave me the note."

Jay's eyes widened in surprise, "How did you know?"

You chuckled softly, "Because only you would do something cheesy like that."

Jay laughed, the sound warm and genuine. How you missed it. "Guilty as charged."

Before you could say anything else, Jay leaned in and kissed you again, this time with more confidence. The kiss deepened, and soon you found yourselves lost in each other, the world outside forgotten.

The kiss became hot feeling , feeling Jay's tongue hot inside your mouth. You let out tiny moans when he began pushing you on the couch nearby. You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to make the kiss deeper.

Jay broke the kiss and connected foreheads with you, both of you panting, “Been wanting to do that since we started this deal.” He panted. You smiled and pecked his lips.

“Surprised you didn’t wanna do it before that. But then again, you did hate me.” You teased. Jay scoffed and kissed your lips again.

“I didn’t hate you. Just didn’t wanna get rejected.” He admitted. You furrowed your eyebrows and rubbed his cheek with your hand.

“I’m sorry you felt that way. But you have me now, and I’m all yours.” You whispered.

“All mine.” He replied. He kissed along your jaw and sucked on it. You moaned softly and threw your head back.

He suddenly stopped leaving you confused before he flips you over in your stomach. He lifted your sweater up and off you. You arched your back, your ass hitting his groin. That earned a slap making you whimper. He then slowly slid your shorts off with your underwear.

You felt the cold air hitting your wet pussy and clenched. Jay fingers dipped easily inside you from behind causing you to arch your back while clenching a nearby pillow. His long thick fingers going in and out so smooth because of your dripping pussy.

You tried grinding down on them, but let out a sharp scream feeling your hair being pulled back, “You’re gonna take what I fucking give you.” He rasped out. You tried nodding your head, but couldn’t with the tightness of his grip on your hair.

He went a fast pace, however then went at a slow pace teasingly. You whined wanting him to go faster, “P-Please Jay!” You cried out. Jay didn’t listen to you and took his fingers out. You panted hard wanting to cum and being upset with the loss of contact.

You heard rustling behind you and turned your head back and saw Jay taking off his clothes too. You bit your lip, drooling over his dick. He stroked it slow and steady, “Ready?” He said. You nodded frantically and sticked your ass out more to him.

He gripped your waist and slowly, he entered. You both moaned in unison. He cursed feeling your hot walls engulf him tightly. You gasped for air feeling his dick fill you up.

He didn’t waste anytime and started going at a fast pace. You let out a squeal feeling his balls slapping against your pussy, adding a big amount of pleasure.

“Hah! Slow down J-Jay!” You wailed out. Jay chuckled and wrapped his hand around your neck, pushing your head down against the couch. You felt it hard to breathe, nonetheless it felt so good being manhandled.

“Pussy feels so good. Such a good girl for me~” He breathed out.

“Y-Yes! O-Only for you.” You moaned. Jay hummed, approving. And he’s never gonna let you go again.

You felt your orgasm coming, “G-Gonna cum! cumming, cumming!-“ You felt your jaw go slack feeling your orgasm. Jay didn’t stop. He continued fucking you through your orgasm leaving you shaking.

“You’ll be a good girl and wait? Gonna fucking breed this pussy till it’s full of my cum.” Jay groaned. You look behind you and gave Jay a seductive look.

“Please cum inside me.” You pleaded. That’s all it took before you felt warm cum filling you. Your eyes rolled back before you came again. Jay cursed and took his dick out, surprised you came again.

You panted heavenly and felt Jay wrap his arms around you, “Are you okay?” He asked, kissing the nape of your neck.

You smiled and nodded, “Just fine.” You responded. He chuckled and placed his head on top of yours. You both didn’t say anything else as sleep overtook both of you and soon you both fell asleep in each others warmth.

The next morning, you woke up on the couch, feeling a bit disoriented. As you rubbed your eyes, the memories of last night came flooding back, and a smile crept onto your face. You noticed you were clean and wearing fresh clothes, which made you wonder how that happened. Then, a delicious aroma wafted through the air, drawing you towards the kitchen.

You walked in to find Jay standing by the stove, cooking. He turned and saw you, a warm smile spreading across his face, "Hey, I hope you don't mind that I'm using your kitchen," He said.

"It's fine," You replied, feeling a surge of affection. You walked up to him and wrapped your arms around his waist from behind. Jay chuckled, clearly amused.

"What are you doing?" He asked, his voice light and teasing.

"You're warm," You said simply, resting your head against his back.

Jay laughed softly, "Well, breakfast is almost done."

You just smiled, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. This was a moment you wanted to hold onto forever.

After finishing the delicious breakfast Jay had prepared, you both cleaned up the kitchen together, sharing light conversation and laughter. Once everything was tidied up, you suggested watching a movie, and Jay agreed with a smile. You both settled on the couch, picking a movie that you both liked.

After the movie, Jay turned to you with a mischievous smile, "I have a surprise for you," He said, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

You tilted your head, feeling a mix of curiosity and confusion, "A surprise? What is it?"

Jay chuckled softly, "You'll see. Just get ready. Wear something comfortable."

You nodded, the anticipation building as you went to your room to change. After a few minutes, you returned, dressed and ready. Jay took your hand and led you to his car. The drive was filled with light chatter and laughter, but Jay kept the destination a secret.

When you finally arrived, Jay parked the car and turned to you with a playful grin, "Okay, now for the fun part," He said, pulling out a blindfold.

You raised an eyebrow, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness, "A blindfold? Really?"

Jay nodded, his grin widening, "Trust me, it'll be worth it."

You allowed him to tie the blindfold around your eyes, plunging you into darkness. Jay took your hand again, guiding you out of the car. As you walked, you felt the ground change beneath your feet, from pavement to something softer. Sand. You couldn't help but ask, "Where are we?"

Jay only chuckled, continuing to lead you forward. After a few more steps, he stopped, "Okay, you can take off the blindfold now."

You removed the blindfold and gasped. Before you was a beautiful picnic setup on the beach. The very same beach where you had once spilled your drink on Jay, a moment that had been both awkward and endearing. The sight was breathtaking—blankets, cushions, and a spread of delicious-looking food, all laid out under the soft glow of fairy lights.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you took it all in, "Jay, this is... this is beautiful," You said, your voice trembling with emotion.

Jay smiled, his eyes filled with tenderness, “Just like you," He replied softly.

You wiped away a tear, still in awe, "How did you do all this?"

Jay chuckled, looking a bit sheepish, “I had some help. Jake, Sunghoon, and Heeseung pitched in."

You couldn't help but smile, knowing that even Heeseung had helped out. You turned to Jay, feeling a surge of affection, "Thank you," You whispered, leaning in to kiss him.

The kiss was sweet and filled with gratitude. You both settled down on the blankets, enjoying the food and each other's company. The sound of the waves crashing gently against the shore added to the magic of the evening.

As you ate, you couldn't help but steal glances at Jay, feeling incredibly lucky to have him in your life. The surprise, the effort, and the thoughtfulness behind it all made you realize just how much he cared. And in that moment, surrounded by the beauty of the beach and the warmth of Jay's presence, you felt truly happy.

As you guys finished eating and now watching the ocean crashing together with a beautiful sound, you found yourself glancing at Jay more than the scenery. The warmth of his presence and the memory of last night filled your mind.

You couldn't ignore the growing urge to close the distance between you two. Taking a deep breath, you turned towards Jay, who noticed your gaze and looked at you with curiosity.

Without overthinking it, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. Jay's eyes widened in surprise for a moment, but then he responded, kissing you back gently. Encouraged by his response, you deepened the kiss, pouring all the emotions you had been feeling into it.

Jay's arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer. The kiss grew more passionate, and you found yourself climbing onto his lap, straddling him. You continued kissing him, feeling the intensity of the moment building. Jay's hands roamed your back, holding you tightly as if he never wanted to let go.

You broke the kiss briefly to catch your breath, your foreheads resting against each other. Jay looked into your eyes, his expression a mix of happiness and something deeper. You smiled, and without a word, you leaned in to kiss him again. This time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate, as if you were both savoring every second.

The ocean and seagulls made noise in the background, but neither of you paid attention to it. All that mattered was the lust you felt in that moment, the unspoken feeling that Jay also feels. You continued kissing Jay, feeling a sense of rightness and contentment that you had never felt before.

You then broke the kiss again and suddenly went between his legs. Jay stares confused, but you just smiled innocently and stoked his cloth dick. He groaned and slowly threw his head back. You felt his dick becoming hard fast and played with the strap bands of his sweats.

You pulled them down softly with the help of him by lifting up his lower body. His dick slapped against his lower stomach. You drooled, staring at it and gently took it in your hands. He moaned and bit his lip. You gave it kitten licks before going to the tip, sucking it just a little, but giving it enough for Jay to want more.

You watched his expressions. His brows furrowed, his eyes hazed, hair still messy from last night, his mouth open and wanting to be kissed, his shirt sticking with sweat. You decided to stop the teasing and engulfed his dick fully. Jay let out a loud moan and held your head, trying to steady himself. You sucked it hard and slow making his head feel dizzy.

“Ah- Fuck! Have you done this before?” Jay questioned. If you haven’t, you're pretty good for a beginner. You looked up at him with those pretty eyes almost making him cum right then and there, but he held back. You tried shaking your head with his dick still in your mouth making him sigh feeling you bob against it.

You felt his balls tighten against your hands indicating he was gonna cum. Jay thrust up a few times making you gag before he finally came. Spurts of his cum going down your throat. He panted while still holding your head. You let go of his dick and wiped your mouth, “Did I do good?”

“You did amazing.” He smiled. You giggled and stood up. You watched Jay pull his boxers and sweatpants back up before grabbing your wrist making you lay right on top of him.

The only sound heard was the water splashing and Jay's heartbeat. You closed your eyes hearing it. It sounded so loud, and yet so calm. You couldn’t help but say those three words, “I love you.”

You felt Jay froze as he looked down at you. He then smiled and leaned to kiss you, “I love you too, pretty.” He said. You smiled back.

As you both continued watching the scenery, you felt a surge of happiness fill through your body. You loved Jay, since the moment he agreed to fake date you. You were glad that happened, unless none of this would have happened.

And as you looked at Jay once more, you knew he was the right man for you, and for the rest of your life.

taglist: @laylasbunbunny @umsivsworld @woofie-nctzen-fanarts @yoongisbaguetteshoes @enhypenlovre @melancholy-z @minghaosimp @dudewhoism @honeychocos @hearts4hee @tlnyjoong @1013club @yagsoobin @mrsjohnnysuh @heekilrvs @enhasrii @prettygurlnikittie @jakeswifez @yunhoswrldddd @seokseokjinkim @whateverhoon @noturmommasstuff @love4hee @ddeonuu4me @selleprotection @jenn-ieverse @babyy-bambii @nikiswifiee @rjssierjrie @sweetshinypuppy @moonpri @harukayoiiiiiiizzz @jayjw16enxp @aanniikkaa

[wonnienyang]

𝒹runk ──── 𝒸onfessions

。 when you have too much to drink (around your crush)

이희승 x fem!reader ❤︎ fluff 1236 wc ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ) alcohal consumption drunk behavior soft chao mild suggestiveness (humorous) mutual pining inspired by a scene from "the first frost"

【 more like this ᰔᩚ 】

the world wasn’t spinning, but it was doing a cute little waltz. a gentle sway every time you blinked too hard. heeseung had one arm around your shoulders as he helped you outside the wedding hall, and you kept giggling into his sleeve like he was telling you the funniest joke you’d ever heard.

(he wasn’t. he was dead silent. but he smelled really good, and that was funny for some reason.)

“heeseung,” you sing-songed, leaning dramatically against him, “be honest—did you spike my drink just to make me fall in love with you?”

he glanced down, clearly trying not to smile. “why would i do that?”

“because it’s working,” you whispered like it was a secret. “you evil little man.”

heeseung huffed out a laugh, hand steadying you by the waist. “you’re ridiculous.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you echoed, poking his chest. “ridiculously pretty. unfair, really. someone should arrest you.”

“is that the alcohol talking?”

“it’s me talking. just… very bravely.”

he guided you to sit on a bench just outside the venue, the cool night air brushing over your skin. you immediately flopped over, head resting on his shoulder, legs swinging off the edge of the bench like a bored child.

“ugh. my feet hate me.”

“you took your heels off thirty minutes ago.”

“they’re emotionally still mad.”

heeseung snorted, shaking his head. “want some water?”

you ignored the question, sitting up with a sudden burst of energy. “you know what?” you said, pointing a finger at him. “i’ve decided i’m gonna start saving up.”

“for what?”

“for you, obviously.” your eyes were wide, serious, dramatic. “so i can keep you. like—buy you a nice apartment with big windows and feed you strawberries and make sure you never smile at another girl ever again.”

he blinked. “you’re going to keep me?”

you nodded solemnly. “don’t act like you didn’t know this was coming. i’ve been chasing you for months.”

heeseung turned his head away to hide his smile, but you noticed anyway. “have you now?”

“mhm.” you leaned forward, poking his cheek. “karaoke night? you smiled at me after i sang that taylor swift song. i almost passed out. i googled ‘symptoms of being in love’ that night.”

heeseung chuckled, eyes soft. “and?”

“the internet said i should hydrate. so here i am. still thirsty. but now it’s for you.”

he lost it at that, full-on laughing now. your eyes widened at the sound—warm and boyish and completely unguarded.

“you’re unbelievable,” he said, smiling down at you.

“i’m charming,” you corrected, swaying slightly as you tried to stand. heeseung immediately steadied you by the elbow, and you grinned at him. “see? you’re already acting like my boyfriend.”

“someone’s gotta keep you from falling flat on your face.”

“so dramatic,” you whispered. “just admit you like me, lee heeseung.”

he paused for a moment, gaze flicking down to yours. the smile didn’t fade, but something about it softened—like he was deciding something quietly in his head.

“maybe i do,” he said.

you blinked. “wait, for real?”

“you won’t remember this in the morning.”

“yes i will,” you argued, pointing a wobbly finger at him. “unless i don’t. in which case, you should remind me. preferably with a kiss.”

he laughed again, hiding his face in his hand. “get in the car, y/n.”

you stuck your tongue out at him. “fine. but only because you’re cute.”

he helped you into the car, buckled your seatbelt like you were a child, and shook his head as you started humming the chorus of the song you’d sung earlier.

and then—just as heeseung exhaled, finally thinking the chaos had passed—

you started tugging at your dress and muttering, “too many buttons… pants. i need pants.”

heeseung blinked. “wait—what are you—y/n, what are you doing?”

you waved him off. “just changing real quick! don’t look!”

“i’m not!” he yelped, immediately reaching for a shopping bag on the seat to act as a barrier. he turned away, shielding his face with one hand. “oh my god, please—just warn me next time—”

“don’t be dramatic,” you muttered, rustling around. “almost done.”

“done what?”

“buttoning. my pants. duh.”

he sat frozen like a statue, bag still held between you. finally, after a few more seconds of shuffling fabric and your quiet humming, you announced triumphantly:

“okay. pants secured. crisis over.”

heeseung cautiously peeked from behind the bag. “are you fully dressed?”

you rolled your eyes and patted your legs. “yes, heeseung. i’m not a heathen.”

he sighed deeply, tossing the bag aside and muttering something about needing hazard pay.

and maybe you wouldn’t remember the entire night when you woke up.

but heeseung would.

enhypen taglist :: @ash-engen @chrrific @cheruphic @jungwonbropls @ijustreallylike2read

© callikari — all rights reserved

[wonnienyang]

TEENAGE DIRTBAG

﹙混蛋﹚───── is riki really that irritated by you or perhaps is it your boyfriend ?

니시무라 리키 & fem!reader wc: 4693 cw: toxic relationships, rude riki, cheating (not reader), mention of inuries, mentions of smoking, light skinship, kissing

𝓜 anas notes: finally !! some of these were in my drafts for so long until i got a request from @woniefication MWAH THANK YOU

It was another day in Mr. Choi's history class, and you could already tell it was going to be a long one. The room was filled with the usual chatter of your classmates - the popular kids laughing obnoxiously at the back, the nerds trying to keep to themselves, and you, somewhere in the middle, just trying to get through another class.

You barely registered Mr. Choi’s lecture, too caught up in the swirling mess of your own thoughts. You were used to it now, the constant tension between you and your boyfriend, Jae. He was always in and out of your life, making empty promises that he never kept. He was the classic jerk - popular, arrogant. He had a way of making you feel like you were just another girl in his collection. You knew you should've ended it a long time ago, but his persistence, maybe even something else, however toxic it was - had worn you down.

But today, you weren’t thinking about Jae. Your thoughts were, as usual, drifting to the one person who was always present — Riki.

He was a few rows ahead of you, lounging in his seat in his usual cocky way. His black leather jacket was draped over the back of his chair, and his headphones rested around his neck. Riki was everything Jake wasn't - mysterious, musing, and undeniably attractive in a way that made you want to get closer, even though he was the last person you'd ever admit you were drawn to.

As Mr. Choi continued on, you noticed Riki glance toward you. His eyes lingered just a second longer than they should have, and for the briefest moment, you thought you saw something in his gaze. But then, as always, he quickly looked away. It was like he had this quiet fascination with you, but he was too proud to show it.

And that’s what pissed you off about him. He was just like Jae in the sense that he never gave a care about anyone, always too cool for school, playing the part of the ''bad boy.''

"Y/N," Mr. Choi's voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back into the moment. "Care to tell the class the answer?"

You blinked, suddenly aware that everyone’s eyes were on you.

You hadn’t heard a word of the lesson.

Riki chuckled quietly from the front, the sound low and almost mocking. "I guess she's not paying attention. Typical."

You rolled your eyes, ignoring him as best as you could. "Sorry, Mr. Choi. Can you repeat the question?"

He sighed, clearly annoyed. "I said, what year did the Civil War end?"

"1865," you replied, without missing a beat.

"Correct," Mr. Choi muttered, before turning back to his lecture.

As class continued, Riki's eyes were on you again, just out of your line of vision. You hated how his attention made your heart race, even though you’d never admit it out loud. Riki was trouble. The kind of trouble you didn’t need in your life. You already had enough with Jae

But that didn't stop you from noticing him every chance you got. You couldn’t help but wonder - if he’d ever stop pretending to be so mean, what would he be like? Was he really the jerk everyone said he was, or was it just a act?

The bell rang, snapping you out of your thoughts. You grabbed your things and hurried out of the classroom, avoiding eye contact with Riki as best as you could.

The bell rang, signaling the end of another class. You shuffled through your papers, gathering your stuff, hoping for a peaceful exit. The tension from the gaze of Riki from yesterday still lingered, but you figured it was just another day. Another day of dealing with the mind games that seemed to follow you everywhere.

You were on your way out of class when you heard the sound of shoes shuffling on the floor behind you.

Of course, you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. But you kept walking, pretending you didn’t notice him following you down the hallway.

"Where’s your boyfriend?" Riki’s voice cut through the silence, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Did he finally get tired of you?"

You kept your eyes straight ahead, the words stinging more than they should. He had a way of pushing buttons that made you want to snap, but you kept your cool.

"He’s busy," you muttered, not bothering to explain further.

Riki snorted. "Yeah, I bet he’s busy with some other girl. He’s a real prize, huh?" His voice was laced with mockery, but there was something almost... too pointed about it.

You clenched your jaw, trying to keep your composure. "What do you care?" you shot back, glancing at him.

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something — was it amusement? Frustration? It was hard to tell. He leaned against the locker, crossing his arms. "Just curious," he said, shrugging. "Wouldn’t want you to get too attached to a loser like him. He’s not even worth the breath you waste on him."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "You’re a real piece of work, you know that?"

Riki raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. "What’s the matter, huh? Can’t handle a little truth?" His words were like a jab to your chest. The way he looked at you, like you were some kind of puzzle he was trying to solve, made your stomach twist with confusion.

You felt a wave of frustration hit you. "You don’t know anything about me," you snapped, your patience wearing thin.

"Do I not?" Riki’s voice dropped to a low, almost dangerous tone. He was standing right in front of you now. His eyes glinted with something unreadable. "I know enough."

Before you could respond, Riki pushed himself off the locker and turned, as if the conversation was over. "You’re just another girl caught up in a bad relationship. No different from all the others."

"Yeah, well, maybe I’ll get tired of it," you muttered under your breath. "Maybe I’ll just walk away."

Riki’s smirk deepened as he glanced back over his shoulder. "Wouldn’t surprise me. You don’t seem the type to stick around when things get real."

You gritted your teeth, fists clenched. He was right about one thing — you were done with Jae, and maybe... maybe you were done with Riki’s games too.

"You think you know me?" you said, your voice cold. "You don’t. So keep your opinion to yourself."

Riki only glanced with a intense gaze, before walking off, leaving you there, heart racing with frustration.

But even as you were mad, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe — just maybe — he wasn’t wrong.

The circle of friends was loud — someone passed around a bag of chips, someone else was retelling a story that probably wasn’t as funny as everyone made it. Laughter echoed through the group, but your smile was forced. You sat close to Jae, his arm casually slung over your shoulder like it was some kind of ownership tag.

You tried not to roll your eyes at his touch, but it felt heavier than usual. He leaned in, whispered something into your ear — probably a bad joke or some half-assed compliment — and laughed like he was so charming.

Across the group, you caught Riki watching.

He sat slouched in a chair, legs stretched out, rings glinting under the string lights. His expression was unreadable — the perfect mask of disinterest — but his eyes told another story.

You could feel the way they trailed over Jake’s arm around your shoulders, the way they narrowed ever so slightly when Jake brushed a thumb along your collarbone. Riki wasn’t saying a word, but he didn’t have to.

His stare said everything.

You tried not to look at him too long, but it was magnetic. You glanced back, just for a second, and met his eyes.

Big mistake.

His gaze locked onto yours, sharp. His jaw clenched, his tongue poked the inside of his cheek in that cocky, irritated way he always did when he was holding something back. A smirk ghosted across his face — bitter, amused.

Jae didn’t notice a thing. He just leaned closer, voice louder now, trying to dominate the conversation. '' You cold, babe?'' he asked, loud enough for the others to hear. '' You’re kinda tense.''

You laughed lightly, brushing him off. '' I’m fine.''

But Riki was still watching.

His fingers drummed against his knee, his eyes not moving once from the two of you. Then he spoke — finally.

'' You're pretty good at pretending'' he said, low and smooth, like a threat carefully prepared.

Everyone paused. The conversation hiccupped. A few heads turned. Someone chuckled awkwardly, thinking he was just being edgy. But you knew better.

Your eyes snapped to him.

''What’s that supposed to mean?'' you asked, tone sharper than you meant it to be.

He just raised a brow and tilted his head. '' Nothing. Just an observation. Didn’t mean to ruin the moment.''

Jae scoffed. ''You good, bro? Sounding a little bitter.''

Riki grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. ''Nah, just bored.''

And with that, he leaned back and looked away — but not before shooting you one last glance. The kind that made your stomach twist. The kind that said: You know I’m right.

You looked down at Jae's hand still on you and suddenly, it felt even heavier.

The metro was packed, bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, heat and noise filling every inch of space — except the one between you and Riki.

He stood inches from you, one hand gripping the rail above your head, eyes locked on yours like the chaos around you didn’t exist. No smirk this time. No teasing.

Just that look.

Heavy. Quiet. Intense.

Your breath caught as the train jolted, bringing you even closer. He didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Just kept watching like he was trying to read your thoughts — or bury his own.

You swallowed hard, pulse hammering in your throat.

Neither of you said a word.

Didn’t need to. His eyes were loud enough.

And when the train screeched into the next stop, he still didn’t look away — not until the doors opened, and you both pretended nothing happened.

But it did.

God, it did.

The school rooftop was your only escape.

Hardly anyone ever came here, afterall, it was a old forgotten place. You’d started sneaking up there between classes just to breathe.

The rooftop was your escape - until today.

You pushed open the heavy door and froze.

Riki was already there, leaned against the low concrete wall, cigarette dangling from his fingers, smoke curling lazily in the breeze. His eyes flicked up at the sound of the door creaking, and for once, he didn’t have that stupid smirk on his pretty face.

''Seriously?'' you muttered. ''You’ve got the whole damn school to haunt. Why here?''

He shrugged, taking a slow drag. ''Didn’t realize you had it reserved.''

You walked to the far side, trying to ignore his stare — the way it always dug under your skin. But today, you snapped.

''You've got some nerve, you know that?'' you said sharply, turning on him. ''You follow me around like some smug parasite, making those cryptic comments, for what? To make me miserable?

He blinked slowly. ''If I’m making your life worse, you’re doing a pretty damn good job of sticking around for it.''

Your fists clenched. ''You’re unbelievable.''

He scoffed, flicking the cigarette. ''Why? Because I don’t lie to you? Because I don’t play sweet like your golden boy boyfriend?''

You stepped toward him, fury bubbling up from your chest. ''Don’t talk about Jae.''

''I’ll talk about whoever the hell I want,” Riki shot back. “Especially the guy who treats you like garbage and gets away with it because you’re too scared to leave.''

That hit hard. Too hard.

''You don’t know anything about me,'' you hissed, your voice shaking.

''I know enough,'' he said, stepping forward. ''I know you act like none of this bothers you. I know you date losers because it’s easier than admitting you don’t know what you want. And I know you look at me like you hate me — but you haven’t stopped looking away, have you?''

Your breath caught.

''You’re such an self absorbed asshole','' you whispered. ''You say all this crap like you know me, like you’re better than him. But you’re not. You’re just meaner. Colder. At least he pretends to care.''

That did something. His jaw tightened.

He stepped even closer, now barely inches away, his voice low and sharp. ''You think I don’t care?'' he spat. ''You think this is easy for me? Watching you run back to him every time he screws up? Watching you let him walk all over you when-''

''When what, Riki?'' you challenged, heart pounding. ''What, you’d treat me better? Between all your insults and dirty looks, where exactly was the part where I was supposed to feel wanted?''

Silence.

The wind whipped around you, tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Then he muttered, almost too quietly, ''I never wanted to want you.''

Silence. Your heart dropped. This wasn't a joke?

''I push you away,'' he said quietly, ''because if I didn’t, I’d be too close.''

You swallowed, hard. For a second, neither of you spoke. And then—

''Don’t,'' you said, voice barely above a whisper. ''Don’t say things like that unless you mean them.''

Riki stepped back like the moment had burned him, but he didn’t take it back.

He looked at you like he did.

And for once, didn’t hide it.

Your phone buzzed twice, then again. The third time, you finally checked it.

Jae. Another girl. His hands all over her, lips tangled, right there in the corner of some dim party room.

Reactions flooded in - shock, laughing emojis, ''omg''s, and ''yo wtf''s - but you just stared at the screen, thumb frozen over your phone. Your stomach twisted, but not out of surprise.

You were used to this part. The disappointment. The quiet, dull ache that never really left.

No message from him. No explanation. Not that you were expecting one. You’d been waiting - waiting for him to end it, to at least have the decency to say it to your face. But maybe this was it.

You sighed, slow and tired, and threw your phone across the room.

Grabbing your jacket, you pulled it over your shoulders. It hung heavy. Your legs were bare under your skirt, and the cold air bit at your skin the second you stepped outside. You didn’t care. The numbness was louder than the wind.

The sky was dark, thick with clouds. A silence hung in the empty streets, broken only by the crunch of gravel under your shoes.

Then you heard it — a low, familiar rumble cutting through the stillness. A motorcycle.

You paused, looking up just as it came closer, headlights flashing briefly in your direction. The bike slowed, coming to a stop a few feet away. The rider pulled off his helmet, and there he was.

Riki.

Hair messy from the helmet, brows pulled together in something dangerously close to concern.

His eyes scanned you — the jacket thrown hastily over your outfit, the bare legs, the way you weren’t even pretending to be okay.

''You shouldn’t be out here like this,'' he said, voice low but cutting through the quiet.

You didn’t respond right away. Just tucked your arms tighter around yourself, eyes fixed on some point over his shoulder.

''Guess Jae finally did me a favor,'' you muttered.

He didn’t ask. Didn’t need to. Whatever had happened, he’d clearly already heard.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Just stood there, one hand still on the bike, the other flexing by his side like he didn’t know what to do with it.

Then, softer, ''You want a ride?''

You looked at him.

The part of you that would usually roll your eyes or spit something defensive was quiet now. You were too tired to fight. Too cold to pretend.

So you nodded.

And for the first time that night, you felt a little less alone.

Jae hadn’t even read your text.

We’re over. Sent at 11:42 p.m. last night

And yet there he was again the next day, strutting down the corridor as if you had done something wrong, gaze intense, jaw tight and fists clenched.

You’d been laughing at something one of your friends said, just a passing joke — harmless, light. But Jae didn’t see that. Or didn’t want to.

''What the hell is this?'' he snapped, voice sharp and too loud, drawing a few glances from nearby students.

You turned slowly, spine straightening. ''What are you talking about?''

''You’re out here, all over other guys, are you cheating on me?'' he accused.

You wanted to laugh, bitter and sad. But you didn’t.

''Cheating?'' you repeated, raising an eyebrow. ''Jae, you cheated on me. I saw the picture. The picture that got sent around.''

His face went pale for a moment before turning bright red with rage.

''That’s not the same thing,'' he hissed, fists clenching. ''You think I care about some stupid—''

''You care about it now, don’t you?'' you shot back, voice rising. ''You don’t even know how to break up with someone, so you just-'

Your words were cut short as he shoved your arm aside, stepping into your space, furious. His hand was raised, the tension in the air thick and crackling with something dark.

Before you could even react, someone moved fast from the side. Riki.

He appeared in a swift motion, stepping between you and Jae with a sharpness that cut through the tension.

He stood there, tall and confident, his posture straight, his eyes dark but calm, locking with Jae’s. ''You better lower your hand,''

Jae blinked, caught off guard, as if he hadn’t expected anyone to step in. ''What are you doing, Riki?'' he snarled.

Riki didn’t flinch. ''What the hell do you think you’re doing?'' he replied, voice low but heavy with something dangerous. ''Because this? This is crossing a line.''

You thought it was over.

Jae had stormed off after Riki stepped in, and you’d figured that’d be the end of it.

But oh boy were you wrong.

A few days later, you found yourself sitting in the school nurse's office, frowning down at Riki’s face.

''Seriously, Riki?'' you said, irritation rising as you grabbed a cotton ball and dabbed it into disinfectant. ''You couldn’t just walk away, could you?''

He winced when you dabbed the cotton over the cut lip. "I'm fine," he growled, trying to be cool like it was nothing, but you caught the way his jaw tightened, the minute tension on his shoulders giving him away.

''No, you’re not fine,'' you shot back, carefully applying bandages. ''You got yourself hurt because you couldn’t let him walk away with it. What were you trying to prove?''

Riki just smiled weakly, but it never quite made it to his eyes. "Maybe I was proving something to you.".

''You’re lucky I’m not slapping you,'' you grumbled, trying to hold back the anger that kept creeping in. ''You’re an idiot. Why didn’t you just walk away from Jae?''

He didn’t answer at first, his eyes locked on your hands as you worked. Then, quietly, he said, ''Because you’re worth it.''

You stood there, frozen, the words cutting you harder than they had any right to. You glared at him, but he didn't look at you. Instead, his eyes were fixed over your shoulder, face expressionless.

"Why do you always do that?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper now. "Why do you say things like that if you don't mean them?''

"I never said I didn't mean them," he replied, his eyes locking on you then, his eyes darkening from earlier. There was something there, something unspoken between the two of you.

You didn’t know what to say. The moment hung thick in the air, the tension palpable.

''Alright, you’re done,'' you muttered, pulling away. You grabbed a bandage and wrapped it around his arm, trying to keep your hands steady. ''Don’t get yourself into more trouble.''

Riki just nodded, his expression unreadable, but there was a slight curve to his lips that almost looked like a smile. ''You always say that, but I think you’re the one who’s gonna get into trouble if you keep hanging around me.''

You didn’t answer. Instead, you finished bandaging him up and turned to leave, but then you stopped and glanced over your shoulder.

''You still owe me an explanation,'' you said, voice quieter now.

He raised an eyebrow, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. ''Maybe. But some things are better left unsaid.''

With that, he stood up, and for the first time in days, you weren’t sure where either of you stood.

The silence between you was thick, but it didn’t feel as awkward as it should. Maybe it never had.

It was late.

Most of the school was dark, except for the faint buzz of lights in the empty classroom — the one you found him in.

Riki sat on the windowsill, notebook balanced on his knee. His hood was down for once, hair messy, head tilted like he didn’t hear you come in.

You hesitated at the doorway.

“You break in?” you asked softly, lips twitching.

He didn’t look up. “Didn’t need to. Left the window open last time.”

You stepped inside, slow and quiet, watching the way his pencil moved across the page — steady, focused, way more careful than anyone would guess. “What are you even writing?”

Riki finally looked over, gaze catching yours, lingering a second too long. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

You rolled your eyes and crossed the room until you were beside him, peeking at the notebook. “Let me see.”

He shifted it just slightly away from your view. “Nope.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Afraid I’ll see all the little hearts with my name in them?”

That actually got a small laugh out of him. “You wish.”

The silence that followed was warm, comfortable in a way it hadn’t always been. You leaned against the window next to him, arms crossed, your shoulder brushing his. Neither of you moved.

After a minute, you said, quieter, “You know... prom’s coming.”

Riki glanced at you. “So I’ve heard.”

“You thinking of going?”

He paused, then shrugged. “Only if there’s a reason to.”

You bit your lip, heart fluttering with something you didn’t want to name yet. “What if there was?”

He looked at you again, eyes darker now — focused. “Are you trying to ask me something, or just over the edge?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. “...Maybe both.”

He smiled — just barely — and looked away, back out the window like he needed a second to cool off whatever just passed between you.

You didn’t say anything else. Neither did he. You just stayed there, shoulder to shoulder, both pretending you weren’t waiting for the other to make a move.

And you didn’t know it then, but that was the moment you’d end up thinking about when you finally gave him those tickets.

The moment when almost was already everything.

Prom was coming up.

Every hallway was plastered with glittery posters and cheesy hashtags. People were buzzing with dates and dresses and afterparty plans. You’d told yourself you didn’t care — that it was overrated, dramatic, not your thing.

But then there was Riki.

And the fact that despite all the tension, all the biting comments and late-night moments that felt way too close, he hadn’t asked anyone. He hadn’t even mentioned it.

So when you saw him leaning against his usual spot by the back stairwell, headphones around his neck, hood half-up like he was trying not to exist — you decided.

You walked up, heart thudding stupidly hard, something clutched behind your back.

He looked up at you with that lazy gaze, one brow quirking. “What?”

You cleared your throat. “I, um… I got something.”

Riki blinked, a little amused already. “For me?”

You pulled your hand around and held it out — two folded pieces of paper. “Concert tickets.”

He looked down at them, then back at you, waiting.

“They’re for a night before prom,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “I figured, it'd be weird to not have dates, so we could use these as an opportunity to get closer and not be so awkward togehter at prom - because like mabye we could go as a pair?”

Something flickered in his expression — surprise, interest, maybe even something softer.

You hurried to add, “I mean, unless you were planning to not go. Or already have a date. Or—”

“Are you asking me out?” he interrupted, eyes narrowing with a half-smile.

You faltered. “I—what? No. I mean yes. Kinda. Not like that, just—”

He stepped closer, just a bit, enough that you could see the amusement tugging at his lips. “You could’ve just said you wanted to go with me. You didn’t have to bribe me with front-row tickets.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m trying to be nice here, you absolute jerk.”

Riki laughed — a real one, low and warm. Then he took the tickets from your hand, carefully, like they were something rare.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll go with you.”

You blinked. “Just like that?”

He shrugged. “You’ve been making moves on me for weeks. I was wondering how long it’d take you to admit it.”

Your jaw dropped. “I have not—”

“You literally patched me up in the nurse’s office like a rom-com lead,” he teased, tucking the tickets into his back pocket. “It was very touching.”

You shoved his shoulder, cheeks burning. “I hate you.”

He grinned. “No, you don’t.”

And as he turned to walk beside you, hands in his pockets, you kind of hated that he was right.

It happened weeks after prom.

You were both sitting on the bench after yet another date. Heart lighter than it'd had been in weeks. The streetlamps cast a soft glow on Riki’s face as he leaned back on his palms, gaze tilted up toward the sky.

It was quiet. Calm. The kind of peace that usually didn’t last long with him.

Then he spoke.

“So,” he said, almost too casually. “Are you gonna keep pretending this isn’t a thing? Or are you finally gonna let me call you my girl?”

You turned to look at him, heartbeat stumbling in that annoying way it did whenever he got serious. “You’re asking me out?”

“I’m saying,” he drawled, “officially, that I want this. You. No games, no half-truths. Just us. If you want it, too.”

You stared at him, trying not to smile too hard, trying not to let him see how much that meant — how much he meant.

“Okay,” you said softly. “On one condition.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Condition?”

You nodded. “You stop smoking.”

That actually made him pause.

Then he laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “You know,” he said, “that day on the rooftop? The cigarette?” He glanced over at you, smirking a little. “It was fake.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Dead serious. I wasn’t even smoking. It wasn’t lit. I just... thought it looked cool.” He shrugged, clearly a little embarrassed now. “I was trying to seem badass. Impress you or something.”

You stared at him, incredulous. “You’re kidding.”

He held up a hand. “Swear on my life. It was literally just for show. Didn’t even inhale. I nearly choked.”

You burst out laughing, the image too perfect — Riki, fake-smoking to get your attention, acting like he didn’t care when he clearly did.

“Alright,” you said, still smiling. “Then yeah. I’ll be your girl.”

He leaned in, face close, grin tugging at his lips. “Finally pretty.”

And when he kissed you — soft, careful, like he was making a promise — you believed him.

Because

Riki had proved he wasn't like Jae or any other guy.

He was willing to change. To let go of that stupid image.

For you, his Y/N.

lovliezᡣ𐭩: @chrrific @saemisic @heeaara @ltfirecracker @woniefication @lezleeferguson-120 @fleurhoons

[wonnienyang]

Between love and revenge

*pairing: alpha leader Heeseung x omega Girl

*trope: : Forbidden love/Enemies to lovers/Dark romance

*synopsis: Y/n, an omega, has avoided an unhappy marriage with Jiwon thanks to the intervention of Heeseung, an alpha who, driven by revenge against his father, has bonded her to him. Despite the bond, Y/n struggles with anger and resentment towards Heeseung, feeling trapped between hatred and a growing passion. Their relationship develops amidst Y/n's inner conflict and Heeseung's determination to show her that, beyond revenge, there is a deeper connection. But between secrets, lies, and the weight of the past, both are forced to confront the truth of their emotions and the meaning of the bond that unites them.

Between lust and revenge <- I recommend that you read Part 1.

*tags: A lot of tension, Heeseung slowly becomes downbad for her, Y/n discovers a secret that will upset his life, lies, obsession, kisses, bites, unprotected sex (in the woods) traformation of Heeseung in alpha, double annotation, unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) (normal sex-doggy sex) tamper with your feelings, +18 *(reference to a pregnancy to violate the laws between alpha and omega by Y/n’s father raping an alpha girl)

You had always thought that the worst moment of your life would be the day of your marriage to Jiwon. The idea of being chained to an omega who treated you like an object to possess, who dreamed of breaking your wings to force you into a golden cage, made you sick to your stomach. But now… the worst was over. Or at least, that’s what you believed. You walked towards the college cafeteria with a heavy heart and a head full of questions. The bond with Heeseung had been real. Raw. Powerful. Your body still carried the marks from the night before. But your mind? It was a battlefield. You had given everything, even what you never thought you’d offer anyone. And now… you would be watched. Judged. Commented on. You entered the grand Victorian cafeteria, and the silence was almost deafening. Everyone was looking at you. Some with their mouths hanging open, others already whispering among themselves, throwing glances your way. You could feel every unspoken word like a blade on your skin. You lifted your chin. You had to. They wouldn’t see shame, not today. You walked as if every step was a declaration: “I’m here, and I don’t regret it.”

It was then that the voice of your best friend, an Alpha, broke the tension. She ran toward you with a smile that clashed with the coldness of the atmosphere. She hugged you tightly, as only someone who truly knew you could. 'Y/n… how did it go?' she whispered in your ear, her voice full of real emotion. Then she pulled back slightly and sniffed the air. 'Oh my God… you smell like him. I can sense him everywhere.' You smiled faintly, your eyes already burning. “It was amazing,” you answered in a hoarse but honest voice. Too amazing. And at that moment, you hated yourself for still having feelings for him. She caressed your face. 'You were so brave. The Alphas… the elders… they’ll want to honor you. They’re already preparing a ceremony—' She didn’t finish. A scream cut through the air. “Y/N!”

You stiffened. Your blood froze in your veins. You turned slowly… and you saw him. Jiwon. He was walking toward you, furious, his eyes bloodshot with rage. He yelled at you, words full of venom. <WHORE! You got bonded to that piece of shit just to avoid marrying me?!> he shouted, his voice echoing off the ancient walls. You trembled. Not from his words, but from his hatred. He stopped five steps away, suddenly panting. He put a hand to his nose, disgusted. <You stink… you smell like him. That fucking Alpha!> You forced yourself to stand tall. “At least Heeseung… will let me study. Go out with my friends. Live.” <Live?!> he laughed bitterly. <You’re an Omega! Your duty is to stay at home, give birth, serve. It’s the man who works, who commands. It’s nature!> You stared at him. “It’s not mine. I don’t want that.” He looked down at you, degrading you with his gaze. As if you were just a mistake. <Your father will kill you for this.>

-No, he won’t.- The voice came from behind. Cold. Sure. Deadly. Sunghoon. One of Heeseung’s best friends. A feared and respected Alpha. He stepped forward, positioned himself between you and Jiwon. He looked down at him. -She is one of us now. Part of our family. No man will touch her again. And if any of them tries… they’ll die before they even get the chance.- Jiwon clenched his jaw, but took a step back. <It’s not over,> he hissed. He looked at you one last time… and walked away. You stood there, your heart in your throat, Heeseung’s scent still on you, your body tense, and your mind screaming. But had you won? Or at least, had you begun to?

Sunghoon looked at you with a cold, cutting gaze. There was no compassion, only a chilling, unrelenting authority. -Take her to her room,- he said to your best friend. -It’s better for her safety.- She let out a soft sigh, pulling you close. 'Hoon, don’t you think you’re overdoing it? She’s already under enough pressure. There’s no need to treat her like she’s in danger—' But he interrupted her with a cynical look. -The problem isn’t her. It’s the others.- Then he turned to both of you, his tone ice-cold: -From now on, move in pairs. And don’t open the door to anyone who doesn’t carry our mark.- It wasn’t a request. Your friend nodded, holding your hand tightly and pulling you away, away from those inquisitive eyes. As soon as the door to your room closed behind you, you collapsed onto the bed, your gaze fixed on the ceiling. You whispered quietly, almost not wanting to hear the answer: "I’ve messed up, haven’t I?" Absolutely.

Your phone had been vibrating for hours. Every relative, every branch of the family, every Omega who knew you… wanted to know if it was true. And when you answered yes, insults, threats, screams, and spit flew through the screen. They’d called you a disgrace. A traitor. A broken piece. But still, no call had come from your father. The door opened slowly. Your mother entered in silence, as though knowing she had to measure each step, each word. She sat down beside you on the bed, gently stroking your hair. 'You were brave,' she said softly. 'I’m proud of you.' You looked at her, surprised. "Did you know I didn’t want to marry Jiwon?" you asked, your voice cracking. She smiled bitterly. 'I’ve known for years. I just hoped that… time would fix everything. But you’re not like me, Y/n. You don’t bend. Never.' You swallowed hard. "Did I do the right thing?" There was a long silence. Then she said: 'There’s no right answer. But if Heeseung bonded you without killing you… it means that, somehow, you’re his. Almost like you’re soulmates.' You jumped to your feet, your heart racing. "Don’t say nonsense, mom. Heeseung hates me. He did it just for revenge." But inside, deep down… a tiny spark. A stupid, fragile hope that there was more to it. That touch, that caress at the end of the knot… had been real, especially the kiss he’d given you on your forehead…

The moment was abruptly interrupted by a firm knock on the door. The headmaster. He entered with the solemnity of a judge. 'Y/n. I need you to come with me. The royal hall has been called to order.' Your blood froze. You didn’t even have time to ask why. You followed him. The hallway seemed endless. When you entered, every important figure on campus — Alpha, Omega, Beta — was there. The clans were gathered. And at the end of the room… there he was. Heeseung. Standing still, motionless, with his clan surrounding him. He was looking at you. Dark, deep, unreadable eyes. But he was looking at you. He made a slow, barely perceptible nod. It froze your blood, and then you saw him. Sitting in the middle row. Your father. The world crashed down. He couldn’t look you in the face. When he did… it was only to spew words full of hatred. ---You’ve dishonored me. You’ve humiliated me in front of everyone. You were supposed to be a wife, a mother. And instead… you allowed yourself to be marked by a murderer! By that bastard!-- Every word was a dagger. --You’re no longer my daughter. You are nothing. You are a damn disgrace.-- You didn’t know what to say, but Heeseung’s laughter was dry, muffled, yet it exploded like a gunshot in the council hall. A sound so out of place that it broke the silence, making even the oldest leaders flinch. You spun around quickly. You watched him rise slowly from the throne reserved for the supreme Alphas. His clan was silent, united, eyes focused on him, and some on you, like Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Jay.

With confident strides, Heeseung stepped forward. Every movement seemed calculated. Lethal. He stopped in front of you, his body almost brushing against yours. One breath, and you would be enveloped in his scent. But he didn’t turn. His gaze was fixed straight on your father. "The only murderer in this room is you," he said, his voice sharp as glass. "You killed my brother. Not for revenge. Not for survival. But because he was stronger than you. Because you couldn’t tolerate another Alpha being superior to you." A murmur spread among the crowd. You were short of breath, your hands shaking. "And now you play the moralist?" Heeseung continued, his look full of pure contempt. "Y/n doesn’t belong to you. She never did. And she will be mine. Because inside her, there’s not only Omega blood… but Alpha blood as well." The silence became deafening. Some leaders whispered, others stared at you in disbelief. You didn’t understand. You stammered, "W-what is he saying? I… I don’t—" Heeseung laughed again. A fiercer sound, almost amused. "Your father has never spoken to you, except for duties. He has never touched you with a gesture of affection. And you know why? Because he knew you weren’t his wife’s daughter."

You turned towards your father. His eyes were filled with hatred. With blind rage. But also… with something that seemed like fear. "It was you who came to me," Heeseung continued, his tone now harsher. "You were the one who sought me out. Because something inside you knew. That becoming the wife of an Omega would have killed you. It would have taken everything from you. Including your soothing powers." A roar rose. Someone stood up. The others looked at your father, shocked. You felt like you were drowning. "ENOUGH!" your father shouted. And in a reckless gesture… he drew a sword. Panic spread. You didn't think: you immediately took refuge behind Heeseung, your heart pounding furiously. He didn't move. He didn't step back even an inch. "Say it," Heeseung hissed, his eyes fixed on that man who had ruined two generations. "Say it in front of everyone. Confess the truth." Silence fell again like a curtain. "That Y/n… is not the daughter of your mate. But the result of your sick experiment." The eyes of the council were fixed on him. Some already knew. Others didn't want to believe it. Heeseung continued, relentless.

"You raped an Alpha. Because you wanted to prove that an Omega like you could break the natural law. You wanted to see if an Alpha, and my brother’s future wife, could accept the knot of an Omega. And when the result... was Y/n... you hid everything. But she is not your mistake. She is your sentence."

Your father shouted. But no one listened. The leaders stood up, one after the other. The guards moved, and you, amidst it all... felt your knees buckle. Your eyes burned. The truths fell down on you like avalanches, the tears carved your face like burning blades. You couldn’t breathe, nor think. Only one question, desperate and raw, exploded in your throat.

"Is it true?!" you screamed, your voice cracking with anguish. "I’m not my mother’s daughter?! I was never loved because... because I was just the result of an experiment?!"

Your father didn’t speak.

But it didn’t matter. Silence is consent. The law was clear. The room was a witness. And you had just lost every foundation of your existence.

You collapsed to the floor, on your knees. Your hands on your face, your body shaken with sobs. Everyone was watching you. The leaders. The clans. The elders. But no one moved. Except for her.

Your best friend, the only one who, in that moment, could have pulled you away from that hell. She ran towards you but stopped suddenly. Not because she didn’t want to reach you.

But because of him, Heeseung.

Still there, unmoving, tall, cold. One look—just one, icy, full of command—was enough to stop her. And she obeyed. She stopped a few steps from you, bitten by pain, but helpless.

You kept crying, silently screaming. In your mind, all the lies played out, all the moments when you’d only asked for a caress, a hug, a word of love... and you had received only coldness. Now everything made sense. A horrible, sick sense, then, in the chaos of your collapse, a hand. A warm hand, placed on your back. A slow, almost imperceptible touch. It drew circles, small, continuous. Trying to calm you. To support you, and you... felt it. Him.

His scent. The one you now knew all too well. The one you had burned into your skin. Heeseung. You froze because in that gesture, there was too much. Too much warmth for someone who hated you. Too much sweetness for someone who had used you. Too many contradictions, now you understood it.

You hadn’t just been his revenge. You hadn’t just been the daughter of the man who had killed his brother. You had become the perfect pawn. His way to prove to the world that an Omega could be strong, that the rules could be rewritten... but also a weapon to mask his own needs. His desire to dominate... and maybe, something more.

You suddenly stood up. Eyes swollen, but proud, you looked at him, your voice trembling, but clear.

"I don’t want to be touched by anyone, especially not by you, Lee Heeseung."

He didn’t move. He didn’t stop you. He didn’t say a word and you... ran away.

Leaving it all behind: the lies, the council, your family... and him. But not the feelings. Those, like the knot... you carried them inside.

In those days, you hated everyone.

From the first to the last. There was no face, no name, that didn’t make your blood boil. Discovering that all the Alphas knew the truth was like receiving a second knot, this time in your soul. Not just Heeseung, not just your father: even the others. All those proud, arrogant faces, who had always looked down on you... they knew, and they kept silent. Your "mother" had tried to talk to you in every possible way. She knocked softly on the door. She left letters under your teacup. Sometimes she sat outside your room, in silence, just to let you know she was there. But you... couldn’t even look at her. You had been given a new room, closer to your best friend's, in the section reserved for Alphas. An exception granted only because of your bond with Heeseung, but you didn’t feel like an Alpha. You only felt the echo of his knot inside you. A mark. A call. A sentence. The Omega aura that surrounded you had become stronger, more palpable, and at that moment... more painful. That afternoon, however, you gave in. You opened the door, and she entered in silence. Red eyes. A tired gaze. She told you everything. She said she loved you. That she had always loved you. That, even though you hadn’t come from her womb, you were her only daughter.

"I couldn’t have children," she confessed, her voice cracked. "And when your father told me that... that he had found an infant, I... I thought she was the daughter of his previous partner. That she had died in an accident. I never knew the truth. Not until much later. But when I held you in my arms... you became mine." You looked at her. In silence. "Do you know my real mother?" you asked. You didn’t even know where that calm voice had come from. She shook her head. "No. Only the Alphas know her. Only them... and Heeseung." Your stomach tightened. You nodded slowly. No tears. Just exhaustion.

You saw him every day. Heeseung. In class. In the cafeteria. In the halls. Everywhere. Always with that leader-like posture, with that inscrutable gaze and slow, dominating steps. But there was something different. A subtle tension. A crack in his usual control. He tried to talk to you. He waited for you outside the classroom. He got closer when you were taking notes. Sometimes he let you pass in front of him in line, as if it were casual. But it wasn’t. Once, he brushed your wrist when you both reached for the same book in the library. "Y/n..." he murmured. And you gave him only a blank stare, your eyes frozen. And you left him there. Another time, after a class, he followed you all the way to the courtyard.

"You can’t avoid me forever," he said, his voice low, controlled. You didn’t stop.

"Look how you managed to do it for twenty-two years," you replied without turning around. You saw him stiffen. But he didn’t respond.

Every gesture of his was poison. Every attempt, every look, reminded you that he had lied to you.

He had pretended to hate you to justify his control. He had used your desire for freedom to take revenge. He had known everything. About your birth. About your identity, and yet... he had tied the knot with you. He had chosen you, and you couldn’t understand if it was yet another lie or the cruelest truth of all.

A month had passed. Four weeks of silence. Of walls built up. Of coldness that burned more than any knot. You only spoke to his cousin, your best friend, and with the teachers, you only answered when absolutely necessary. A word here, a nod there. And the rest? Silence.

He watched you. Always. He followed you with his gaze in class. He looked for an excuse to brush past you in the hallways. Occasionally, he would place his tray near yours in the cafeteria, but you’d change tables before he could even open his mouth. Everyone had started whispering. That maybe Heeseung had made a mistake. That maybe choosing to knot with you had been a mistake. An Alpha chasing his mate, a half-Alpha Omega, and being ignored like any other student. An embarrassment. A reversal of roles that no one understood… except you. In class, you threw sharp barbs. Once, while discussing bonds and compatibility, you raised your hand:

"Professor, what happens if an Alpha deludes himself into thinking he can control an Omega just because he’s marked her body, but not her heart?" The class erupted in laughter. Heeseung didn’t move a muscle. But his fingers, under the desk, clenched until they turned white.

Another time, while discussing leadership: "There’s a difference between commanding and knowing how to lead. Some Alphas think arrogance is charisma, when it’s actually just… weakness disguised." And there you looked at him. Straight in the eyes, with contempt.

That evening, however, something in him snapped. Heeseung knocked on your door. Once. Twice. Ten times. "Y/n!" Silence, he knocked harder. "Open up, damn it!" The door next to yours suddenly opened. His cousin, your best friend, popped out in pajamas, looking annoyed.

"What do you want, Heeseung?" she huffed. "Where is she?!" he growled. "Where the hell has she gone?!" She shrugged, leaning against the doorframe with feigned calm. "Maybe she doesn’t want to be found." "Don’t play games with me, ___!" He snapped at her, approaching menacingly. "Tell me right now where the hell she is!" But she didn’t back down. She looked him in the eyes and teased him with a sharp smile. "What’s wrong, does it bother you that now she gets to decide where and with whom she stays? That she’s ignoring you like a first-year girl who’s regretted it?" "Enough!" Heeseung growled. He grabbed her wrist, but without force. Only desperation. "You know her better than anyone. Where could she be?!" She lowered her gaze for a moment, sighed. Then, she looked him in the eyes. "If you know her at all... you’ll know where to find her." He stopped. His mind was in chaos. Three places. Three memories.

- "The classroom where we kissed for the first time..." A whisper. - "The waterfalls... no. Too far." And finally: - "The lake... beneath the university. On the edge of the forest." He said it in a half voice. His eyes full of panic.

"You’re crazy!" He shouted at his cousin. "You let her go there alone?! At this time?!" She pulled away from him with a sharp motion. She looked at him proudly. "She’s not just an Omega. She’s half Alpha, Hee. Like me. She knows what she’s doing." Then, with a cutting tone: "But you... do you even know what you want to do with her? Or do you just want her to come back to you to fill the emptiness you’ve created yourself?"

Heeseung ran down the castle stairs. But halfway down... he was no longer human. His bones cracked and rebuilt themselves, his clothes shredded to pieces, and his breath became sharper, deeper, wilder. The transformation was instinctive, necessary — his true Alpha nature broke free from all control. He sniffed. The evening wind immediately brought the scent. Your scent — a mix of Omega and Alpha, a fragrance that no one in the world had ever had, and within that aroma was his. Imprinted, mixed, fused. The knot was still inside you, still alive. Still his. The garden opened before him. His paws sank into the wet ground. He ran as fast as he could, between the hedges and the night flowers, sliding toward the lake like a shadow among the stars. When he neared the water... he howled. A desperate, raw, primal howl — a call. A lament. A cry of love and anger together. Where are you...? Then... he saw you. Sitting.

On that wrought-iron chair facing the lake. Still. Hair in the wind, face absent, the aura powerful — a creature born to exist between two worlds and hated by both. Heeseung ran. He jumped between the bushes, lowered his muzzle, felt the beat of your heart even from afar. When he was only a few steps away from you, your aura reacted. You turned. You looked at him and stood up abruptly to leave. No. Not this time. With a leap, he trapped you. He pushed you against the chair, with both gentleness and force, using his animal body to hold you in place. He sniffed you. Everywhere. Your neck, your wrists, your heart. Then he began to lick you. A warm, slow, adoring tongue. On your neck. Under your ear. Your jaw. Your cheek. Your chin. Every lick was a confession. A "I miss you," a "forgive me," a "you're mine," and your body… began to give in. "Heeseung…" you murmured. His name came from you like a stifled sob. He stopped. Pulled away. And in an instant, he was human again. Naked, trembling, vulnerable — his eyes… were not the same as before. A mix of deep brown and blood red. The animal soul and the human one merged within him. And all of it was directed at you. "Y/n…" he whispered. But before he could say anything else… "I hate you." The words came out like an open wound. They weren’t just anger. They were pain — a "you broke me." He stayed there, naked under the moon, silent. And for the first time… he didn’t know what to say. You spat out your anger. "You disgust me." "You're just a bastard." "You used my body for revenge, and now what? Do you want me to forgive you?!"

Each insult was a wound. But he didn’t stop. He bit your skin, with delicate animal-like tenderness. As if to say, "I’m here. Still. Even if you hate me." Then he changed. He slowly transformed. His paws became hands. His muzzle took the form of his face. His chest rose and fell in search of breath. But his eyes remained those of the Leader. The eyes of the Alpha who had marked you but also those of the boy who, maybe, had chosen you. "Stop…" he whispered. He held you tighter, pressing you against his bare chest. "Stop trying to be strong alone. Stop thinking that only you are suffering." You lifted your face, your eyes watery, full of rage. "And what do you know? You who plays at being the savior. You’re weak too, Heeseung." He closed his eyes, as if those words had hit him square in the chest, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he caressed your back, then your side. Slowly. As if he didn’t want to scare you, but to make you crumble. "I wanted to make you suffer… truly." Your voice trembled. "I thought about ending it. So you’d never be able to knot anyone. Not love. Not forget me." Silence. Only the lake. Only the heartbeat. Heeseung paled. His eyes widened. Then he screamed.

"Never say something like that again!" He grabbed you by the arms, and with slow movements, he took off your sweater. Every inch he uncovered, he kissed. He bit with gentle ferocity, not as punishment, but as a confession. A plea. A "forgive me" without words. His voice lowered, broken, angry. "You’re mine. But not because of possession. Because I feel you in every breath. In every dream. In every damn part of my being." And in the silence that followed, while his teeth left an imperceptible mark on your shoulder, you... stayed. His lips were everywhere on your neck, your chest, between your shoulder blades, along the fragile line of your soul. And his bites... Oh, his bites made you moan. Not only for the primal pleasure that set every nerve on fire, but for the dull pain you had been carrying inside for weeks. It was as if his body wanted to heal you. As if each lick, each kiss, each press of his tongue meant: "Stay. Breathe. Come back."

Your hands gripped his strong arms, the pulsing veins of his bare chest, illuminated only by the full moon. He looked like a vision, a nightmare and a dream fused together. "I can't take it anymore…" he whispered, his voice broken, labored. His fingers trembled slightly on your skin. "I want to feel your lips on mine again." You stopped him. You looked him in the eyes, those eyes so familiar yet so foreign. And you warned him. "You didn’t come to save me. You came to ease your conscience, Heeseung. You don’t want me… you want to forgive yourself." For a moment, even the wind stopped. His breath slowed, his body still wrapped in yours, but his soul laid bare. "I'm sorry…" he whispered. "I'm really sorry. I want to make up for everything…" And that’s when you screamed. With all the pain. With all the truth. "I want to forget! I want to forget all of this, Heeseung! I want it to never have happened! I want you to have never touched me! Never looked at me! Never chosen me!" He snapped. He grabbed your face in his hands, gently but roughly. His eyes, wet and furious, pierced through your soul. "NO, the most beautiful thing in my life… the only thing I don't want to forget… is you." He looked at you as if you were his entire universe. As if all the chaos that had built him had been created for this moment alone. "You were my ruin and my salvation. The only moment I felt peace was when I knotted you. When you fell asleep in my arms, naked, fragile… mine. Even when I pretended to be cold, distant, cruel with you… I wanted you. For years. It wasn't revenge, Y/n. It was desire. It was love I didn’t want to admit." And there, in the silence that followed, only the moon dared to watch you. Only the lake reflected your truth, and without thinking any longer, you crashed your lips onto his. It was like setting the night on fire.

Heeseung grunted against your mouth, a deep, animalistic, primal sound. His hands tightened around your waist as his tongue invaded your mouth with a hunger that seemed to have been held back for centuries. You clung to him, straddling his legs, feeling the warmth and strength vibrating from his body beneath you. You pulled him toward you, hard, as if you wanted to fuse together. You bit his lower lip with a sweet cruelty, and he admonished you with a low growl. But you, with your voice broken and venomous, degraded him with a cold whisper. "I hate you... and you know it well." But your hands spoke a different language, an ancient one, made of repressed desire and anger that burned hotter than love. Heeseung didn’t stop. He continued to kiss you, deeper, more desperately, while his fingers lifted your sweater. In a few seconds, you were left with only a thin tank top and your bra. His eyes, now red and filled with Alpha aura, scrutinized you like prey.

He also slid the tank top off you with a slow, almost ritual gesture, and when he saw your breasts covered only by fabric, something in him changed.

As if he was possessed.

His mouth fell on your chest, between bites and feverish kisses that made you moan, scratch him, pull his hair.

«You bastard... you are just my knot, nothing else.»

Yet your voice trembled, for every bite of it left you confused, every lick made you long again.

He sucked your breasts out of his bra with ardor, and you kept pulling his hair with your aura as a submissive omega, but also as a ruthless alpha. A fragile balance, perfect and then... click.

The hook of the bra gave way under his fingers.

Your breast leaped free in the crisp air of night. The nipples hardened instantly for the cold and her hungry look.

He panted, almost lost and you, with a filthy but sweet voice, whispered into his ear:

«Don’t pretend, Heeseung... you’ve always wanted me, right? Even when you said you hated me.» His hands trembled on your hips and he answered with a roaring voice:

«I wanted you... even before I knew you were mine.»

The forest was in a vibrant penumbra, only the moon filtered through the branches, drawing silvery shadows on the nody logs. The air was saturated with smells: musk, moist earth... and its scent. The spicy and pungent one of an Alpha in full call.

You didn’t have time to react.

He lifted you without warning.

«Ah!» you screamed, surprised, as your body was pushed against the trunk of a tree. His arms squeezed you with a fierce possession, as if that moment had been written in his flesh.

«Do you hear it?» he whispered against your ear, his voice crusty, broken by longing. «Your pussy is rubbing against my cock, and it’s looking for it even if you keep telling me that you hate me.»

«I... I can’t take it anymore!» you froze, trembling. «I hate you... I really do...»

But even as you were saying it, your pelvis moved imperceptibly against his, seeking that heat, that pressure.

He laughed, gloomy, deep, with a grin that was pure sin.

«No, darling. It’s not just your body that wants me. It’s every part of you. Even the one who lies to herself.»

He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes lit up with an animalistic glow, and then - without further preambles - slowly slid her fingers under your skirt. The panties came down with a swift movement, and his fingers found at once the proof of your surrender.

«Already wet? So much?» he growled softly, as he stroked you with expert fingers. «I would have taken my time... Open you up, get ready, get yelled at while you were enjoying. But fuck... I can’t resist. I just want to sink into you, tie you and leave you full. Only mine.»

Your eyes were filled with confused tears: desire, anger, fear... and longing.

Your trembling hands, driven by a primitive instinct, pulled off his boxer shorts with ardor. His member was hard, imposing, pulsating with warmth. Your breath was cut off.

The wood seemed to hold your breath. Only your sighs broke the silence.

«Tell me,» he whispered against your neck. «Tell me you want me, even if you hate me. Tell me that your body belongs to me, even if it drives you crazy.»

«I hate you... but I fucking love you!» you shouted, your heart racing. «You drive me crazy, but my body... can’t stop.»

«Good little omega confused...» he muttered. And then howled, a primordial sound that shook the fronds above you.

In a single movement, it sank into you.

A moan will tear your lips, long, deep. The nails dug into his back as he began to move with force, with a wild but precise rhythm. Each shot was a message, a claim, a mark.

«I will keep you here,» he growled. «I will fertilize you, I will keep you tied up... until you learn that you can no longer run from me.»

The moon was the only witness of your bond. United bodies, broken breaths, souls entwined in a darkness that was more desire than shadow.

His impulses were bestial, ferocious, as if he was trying to erase every space within you that did not belong to him.

Each stroke of his cock made you scream, and your screams were mixed between extreme pleasure and uncontrollable tears. You cried, yes, but it was not pain - it was too intense, it was a pleasure so deep that everything shook. You felt split in two and at the same time more alive than ever.

«I hate you!» you shouted at them, with a broken voice, your face wet with tears and sweat. «You’re a bastard!»

He growled softly, squeezing you with a force that made you groan.

«And you are a little half omega and half alpha in heat, mine... always mine. Even when you insult me, your body calls me.»

Your words were full of poison and need, each offense a crooked, animalistic cry of love, which smelled something deeper. He bit your neck, strong, leaving the mark, and then sucked you slowly, mixing violence and tenderness as only an Alpha knows how to do with his mate.

Every push made you jump, your body stretched and broke under him, but you looked for it, you wanted it. His name exploded between your lips as a wave of heat swept you away, that primordial feeling that made you groan like never before.

«Keep on...» you whisper with a broken voice, almost praying. «Please tie me up. Make me yours for real.»

He grunted against your ear, going deeper.

«I want you tied to me. Tight. Filled. Possessed.»

You felt his knot begin to swell inside of you, slow, insistent, and the scream that came up from your throat was no longer contained. Your body bent to his, accepting everything, every pulsation, every wave of pleasure that spread like fire in the veins.

«Yes... yes, so... I want your knot, I want to feel full...» you sigh.

He stopped only when it was completely knotted within you, your tight bodies, fused into an indissoluble bond. His hands caressed you now with sweetness, the breathless breath mixed to yours but the pushes became stronger and deeper, as if he wanted to cross every border of your body and engrave his name inside you. He held you firmly, completely in his power, while the knot kept swelling inside you, and your belly began to stretch, full... full of him.

«Look how my knot is swelling...» he growled against your neck. «Your body accepts everything, wants it, begs for it.»

The words struck you like a hot and violent wave. You babbled between sobs and cut breath.

«It’s too... too deep inside... you’re... you’re filling me up... I can’t think...»

«You must not think,» he replied. «You must only hear.»

And it sank again. Deeper, stronger.

He lifted you with a single gesture, as if you were light as air, bouncing you against his chest. The friction was unbearable, sweet and fierce at the same time. And then... his finger found your most sensitive spot. A pinch, a precise touch, and the world exploded.

A scream escaped from your lips, your body trembled in a wave of uncontrollable pleasure, while the knot felt it pulsating more and more inside you, while your orgasm passed through you like lightning, hot and blinding.

«Good girl, come for me, all over me...» he murmured with a broken voice, adoring you.

You felt your excitement slide down, cover it, drip on your joined bodies. And he did not stop.

«I want you tied, filled. I will bind you again, mark you with my seed, leave you full of me, so much that every breath of yours knows of me.»

With a deep growl, you felt his movements become even slower, more powerful. And then... the heat

A liquid explosion inside you, very long, unstoppable, while the knot pulsed with violence, pushing that pleasure even deeper. You screamed, again, as you felt it fill you completely, so much that you lost the sense of time.

And for a long moment, the world stood still. Only the moon looked at you. Two wild souls, broken, chained by desire and something that neither of them had ever dared to call his real name.

Then, with studious slowness, he made you come down from his arms. Your legs shook as soon as they touched the ground but her touch didn’t leave you for a second.

His hands were fast and strong, they turned you with force and pushed you slightly forward, bent in front of him, the back arched. His gaze burned on exposed skin.

«Get your beautiful ass up,» he ordered in a roaring voice. «I’m not done with you yet.»

You were anxious. «It’s too much...» you protested with a little voice, but didn’t move.

He approached, fingers running down the curve of your hips. «You played the rebel for too long, my companion. Now you learn. You are mine. And I... am yours. That’s how the bond works.»

You sighed, but your legs did not move. His hands caressed the stretched skin, then slipped between your thighs and stopped.

«Look how beautiful you are...» she murmured. «Shine. Swell up. And you’re still leaking my seed.»

Closed your eyes, your breath broken. Yoy did not make in time to reply.

With a single leap, he was again inside you. A cry escaped from your lips, wild, uncontrollable. The pleasure hit you like a slap. The feeling of fullness, after the knot, was even more violent. Each movement was an electric shock, a liquid fire that went through your entire belly.

«Do you hear it?» he growled, sinking with ever greater force. «You take it so well, my little one. Half omega, half alpha... yet your body knows exactly who it belongs to.»

You were stuttering, unable to find sensible words. The sentences broke on your lips, between sobs and groans.

«It’s... too much... inside... too hot...»

He grabbed your hips with force. «And it will be even more. Because I want you completely. With another knot, another mark. I want you to not even walk without feeling me inside of you.»

Each push was deeper than the previous, as the words died out in your throat. Your body trembled, bending to the rhythm. And when you felt the pressure grow again, that second knot that swelled slowly, groaned his name in a broken voice, as if he were praying.

He praised you in a low voice, with words full of desire.

«So good... so mine. My perfect companion. And now you come again. I want to hear you hug me as I fill you up again.»

A few pushes were enough. Your body became stiff, then it was shaken by a violent, uncontrollable pleasure. A scream burst from your lips as she felt it everywhere - inside, around, in every fiber. And when he exploded inside you, you felt it all: the warmth, the depth, the strength. His seed filled you again, warm, abundant, and you groaned again, letting go completely.

The bodies remained united, once again merged under the full moon. There were no more words. Only breath. Only beats. Only them.

That morning, you woke up wrapped in a strange kind of warmth.

It wasn’t just the blankets—it was something deeper, more visceral… a heat pulsing beneath your skin, between your ribs, and in your thoughts.

The air carried a scent you knew all too well by now: wild mint and tobacco—the scent of his skin, his presence.

When you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was his red hair—messy and soft—resting against your neck like a silent promise.

You were wearing one of his oversized shirts, hanging down to mid-thigh, and his arms were wrapped around you with a quiet, natural possessiveness—as if he had never known a world where you weren’t his.

You moved gently, trying to slip away without waking him, but his voice reached you in a low, sleepy murmur.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Your heart skipped in your chest.

You blushed, inevitably, at the memory of the night before—the moon, the moans, the knot, your bodies tangled in the woods like creatures born to vanish into the wild.

“I just… wanted to get up,” you mumbled, but the words faded as you watched him slowly sit up.

He looked at you seriously, but with a soft light in his eyes.

“Do you feel okay?” he asked, one hand brushing over your side.

You shook your head slightly. “No… just a bit… full, maybe.”

He laughed quietly, almost amused, but his gaze fell immediately to one of the marks he’d left on your neck—a deep, dark bite, still faintly sore.

He touched it gently, a caress that clashed with the roughness of the mark.

You gave him a mock scolding look, more amused than anything.

“You told me you’d only mark me like that after we got married.”

He shrugged, carefree.

“To me, you’re already mine. No ceremony. No fuss.”

“So this is your romantic way of telling me you love me?” you teased, a smile playing on your lips.

He stared at you for a moment, then tilted his head slightly.

“I’ve already told you I love you. The thing is—you haven’t said it back yet.”

His words hung in the air like a sweet blade.

They stole your breath for a moment.

You chuckled, shyly, but he didn’t smile.

He looked at you with that disarming seriousness, his heart written plainly in his eyes.

“Hey… I’m really sorry. For everything you’ve had to go through these past few weeks… and for these 22 years of your life,” he murmured.

And before you could answer, his lips were everywhere—your neck, your shoulders, your cheeks, your forehead.

He kissed you like he wanted to erase every doubt, every hesitation, every unspoken word.

And only then, between one kiss and the next, in the softest voice—like a confession you could no longer keep—you said it.

“I love you too.”

The world seemed to stop.

He froze for just a second—long enough to look into your eyes.

And the smile that bloomed on his lips was so real, so raw, it made you forget everything else.

Taglist: @stwrlightt @hearts4cheol @lovenha7 @in-somnias-world @heeseungxo @luvyeni @jayjw16enxp @jvngwni @jooniesbears-blog @gguk-n @cloudykim @enhaverse713586 @stormy1408 @jakesw82 @misssparklyprincess @bamguetismee @jaylajakey @arclviie @strxwbloody @steddie-steddie @jungwoosbaey @laurenmia65 @tasnemluvs @lovellydisaster @simj4k3 @numnommz @sspidermanss @vixialuvs @smlbch @xylatox @ikeulove @nishikio @ancnymcnzjy @sofiafromvenus @kayjiguki @annovaz @kkamismom12 @forrds @inishij @amortenha @sunnysidesins @isagistar @schniti-is-in-the-house @nyxiebabyyy @rubylace @petalsofink @asteriscoverde @azzy02 @sievenderz @reading-wh0re

[wonnienyang]

can anyone rec me any enha fics for me (series/shorts/genre) IM DESPERATE TO READ IM SO BORED😭😭😔😔😔😓😓😓🫠🫠🫠🫠

[wonnienyang]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨enha!hyung line as ur stepdad/brother୧⋆ ˚｡

𐙚 paring : stepcast!enha hyung line x fem!reader

𐙚 genre : smut (MDNI) not proofread so tell me if I made any mistakes ^^

𐙚 warnings : dom!enha hyung line, sub!female reader, stepcast, non-con, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap ur willy), virgin!reader, oral sex (both f and m. receiving), orgasm, nipple play, sunghoon is obsessed with tits, muncher!jake, pantiesstealer!jake, daddy kink, pregnancy, masturbating, cheating, big dick!enha hyung line, kitchen sex, hymen tearing, blood, hair pulling, name calling (bitch, slut, good girl, princess, sweetheart, baby, whore), clit sucking, spanking, slapping, doggystyle, missionary, reader is a naive bitch, sugardaddy!jay, swallowing cum, sex without prep, creampie in all of them :3

𐙚 word count : 1.8k

stepdad!heeseung who is dating your mom and getting close to you so he can fuck your dumb little brains out.

stepdad!heeseung coming into your room and giving you night cuddles while your mom is still at work but also enjoying the way your nightgown reveals your cleavage and the way his bulge is right up against your ass.

“such a good girl, aren’t you? go to sleep, princess. daddy will stay here for you, m’okay?”he would whisper sweet things to you, watching you sleep while fisting his hard cock, staring at your tits and groaning when he sees your nipples poking against the thin layer of your nightgown.

stepdad!heeseung who finally has the chance to make you his cock sleeve when your mother is out of town.

stepdad!heeseung barging into your room, tearing your clothes, positioning his pink throbbing tip against your folds, you whining at the thickness of his cock.

“s’okay, baby. just a little bit. my little girl can take it for daddy. I’m gonna fuck you so dumb, yeah?” he coos, trying to soothe you while pushing inch by inch, groaning at your whimpers and sobs.

stepdad!heeseung tearing up your hymen in no second, blood and your juices coating his cock as he continued to thrust against you, not slowing down once. you sobbed against his neck, nails digging deep into his shoulders as your tears painted his neck. It hurts so bad but hurts so good..

stepdad!heeseung who got used to fucking you so he didn’t hesitate to have sex even if your mom is in the next room, completely oblivious to what is going on with her daughter and the man she is dating.

stepdad!heeseung who got you pregnant after you forgot to take your birth control pills, leaving you wailing in his arms while he rubs your back, trying to soothe you that it’s okay.

“shhh, ‘s okay, princess. don’t you even worry a thing. I’ll deal with your fussy mom. just be a little pretty house wife for me, got it?” he comforted, kissing away your tears and later, rewarding you with his cum in your mouth and all around your face.

stepbrother!jake who moved in a month ago and ever since then, he was obsessed with you, ogling you with no shame, checking your ass out while gripping his own cock.

stepbrother!jake comes into your room every night while you’re sleeping and steals one of your lace panties, going straight into the bathroom, placing the cloth right on his nose, sniffing deeply while stroking his cock to the thought of eating you out until you shake.

stepbrother!jake who lies when you ask him about your missing clothes and panties, knowing damn well he stole them. he pouted his puffy plump lips, shaking his head that made you forgot about ur stolen panties easily.

stepbrother!jake was shocked when you asked him to eat you out, saying that you had a date next week and wanted to be prepared. jake wasted no time pushing you on the bed and kneeling down between your thighs like a puppy, pushing your legs away before he removes your panties in one go.

stepbrother!jake who eats you out like a dog, lapping against your slit, sucking your clit and delicate pink folds, whining desperately at the taste of your juices, his chin and mouth covered with your stickiness.

“pussy taste s’ good, can’t live a day without this..” his voice was muffled by your legs squeezing his head between your thighs, pulling his hair as you threw your head back, moaning loudly as he kept going round after round until you’re a crying mess.

stepbrother!jake who made you forget your date and told you to block him, saying that no one will eat you out just like the way he did. and you obeyed, blocking the guy for good.

he leaned closer against your ears while his theee fingers were knuckles deep inside your puffy pussy which was sore from the three orgasms. “you trust me, don’t you? better be a good little girl and listen to daddy, m’okay? ‘m gonna make you feel ‘s good, sweetheart.”

stepbrother!jake who is obsessed with your ass, always groping and squeezing on your asscheeks like they would disappear if he let go. he would take you from behind, fucking you in doggystyle, groaning at the sight of your ass shaking with each thrust and enjoying the way your asscheeks bounce when you ride him with you back turned from him, spanking and slapping your pretty pink butt :(

stepdad!jay who spoils you more than his soon to be wife, your mom. he would take you for shopping sprees and letting you buy whatever you want, taking you out on 5 starts restaurants and on his yacht, taking you to maldives and bora bora instead of your mom, the woman being upset with jay but jay couldn’t care less, his mind wandering to the time where you wore that bikini on the yacht.

stepdad!jay buys you lingeries, nightgowns, revealing clothes from Victoria’s Secret and letting you try it on, putting a show on for him. you naively accepted, trying on the tight lingerie, your tits spilled out, nipples sticking out from the barely covered bra which was more like a string. the lace panties completely crotchless and just a string of cloth to cover your butthole, making your ass visible.

“fuck, such a pretty doll for daddy. come here and show me what that ass can do.” jay said, his voice more commanding than a request. you would squeak when you sat down on his hard bulge, whining at the length of his cock as he just let out a raspy chuckle.

stepdad!jay who finally lost it when he saw you in the kitchen one day, lazing around with his oversized shirt and nothing but the panties he bought not so long ago. jay walked over and picked you up, stilling you on the cold marble counter and ripping the panties off.

stepdad!jay slipped his big cock in your folds without any prep, enjoying the moans that left your mouth. tears filled your eyes as you cried out in pain and both pleasure, his hand pulling your hair back.

“stop fussing, fuck, feels so fucking good. such a whore like your mommy, yeah? but so much better than that whiny bitch.” he spat, thrusting into you much deeper and faster.

stepdad!jay who takes care of you after, gently sprawling you down on the couch and cleaning your puffy used folds with a warm towel like he wasn’t fucking your brains out just a few moments ago.

“how you feeling’ , sweetheart? did daddy hurt you too much? I apologize, baby.” he said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, making you melt at his gesture that you almost forgot that you were probably bedridden for 2 days.

stepdad!jay who took you out for the sadina beach on his private yacht as a reward, fucking you nice and slowly in your pink little bikini, enjoying the view (the view of your legs spread and not the ocean view).

stepbrother!sunghoon who takes advantage of you since you were only 19 and a virgin. his mom married your dad and you guys moved in about two weeks ago. you noticed sunghoon not taking his eyes off you when you guys first met but being the dumb little whore you are didn’t think of anything and smiled at him sweetly.

stepbrother!sunghoon who offered to take your luggages into your new room and help you unpack, glaring at your chest to your cleavage that was showing due to your low cut top. he licked his lips, his fingers tightening on the desk as he moved it to the place for you liking. when you guys moved past each other, he didn’t hesitate to brush his knuckles against your clothed chest, silently moaning at the touch of your tits.

“you wanna come to my room later and watch a movie?” he asked, a mischievous grin on his that he was up to no good again. but you just wanted to spend time with your step brother so you nodded your head, hopping into the shower while he watched the way your boobs bounced with each step.

stepbrother!sunghoon who welcomed you into his room and locked the door behind him, watching you lay down comfortably on his bed, already picking a movie. he laid down beside you, his arm coming up to rest on your thigh but you didn’t mind, not that you know anything about sex or intimate gestures.

stepbrother!sunghoon brushes his hand against your clothes chest, glancing down at your cleavage in your ivory nightgown that you decided to wear. he then got a little bold as he slipped his hand inside your nightgown, groaning lowly when he felt your nipples right away and that you weren’t wearing a bra.

“hooniee..what are you doing?” you asked innocently, looking up at him with a pout on your face. he shook his head and leans in close, teasing your now hardened nipples. “shushh, ‘m just trying to make you feel good, princess. now stay quiet for me, yeah?”

you immediately whined when he twirled your nipples around with his hard calloused fingers, whimpers muffled quick when he placed a hand over your mouth since your parents were just downstairs.

“shut up, you little bitch. you don’t wanna get caught, right? so stay still and be the dumb who’re you are.” he leans in, pushing your nightgown pass your shoulders and capturing one of your pink little nipples in his mouth, tongue rolling against the sensitive bud.

stepbrother!sunghoon who made you suck his fingers, making you gag when his long fingers met the end of your throat, enjoying the way your face scrunches up and the little noises you made you gagged pathetically around his fingers, instantly making him hard in his pants.

stepbrother!sunghoon making you suck his big thick hard dick, watching the way your lips closed around the tip and your head bobbing up and down while he played with you nipples, throwing his head back at the feeling.

“good girl, keep sucking and I’ll give you a reward by fucking you hard and deep and if you don’t obey me, oh, be ready for your punishment, slut.” sunghoon said, filling your mouth up with his slimy hot ropes or cum, moaning as he watched you swallowed it just like the dumb little girl you are.

© ivyleyun, all rights reserved, do not copy.

a/n : well there goes my first ever head canons ≽^•⩊•^≼ this was so fun to write i love writing so so muchiee but there’s one problem TT im on my period and i was so horny writing this and i cant even finger myself ˙◠˙life is so unfair hmph

tag lists : @smlbch @vampzwon

if u wanna get tagged in the upcoming fics, please click here !

[wonnienyang]

taste of indulgence - sjy, pjs

CHAPTER 4 — SHOW ME SPICY

— Avoidance was your only way to move forward, but Jay and Jake weren’t about to let you slip away so easily. How could you pretend you didn’t want them when your body told a different story? If you wanted to play stubborn, fine. But brats don’t get to run—they get put in their place. And they were more than ready to show you exactly what spicy really meant.

content tags: everyone is gay or fruity!!! angst! reader is self sabotaging, she made jake cry, jay is angry (and stressed), let's play back to friends by sombr, psych majors who don't know how to communicate, reader assume sunghoon's sexuality, reader cuts her hair short, jay's pov, sunoo is just sunoo.

explicit content (smut): uhm threesome (switch jake, dom jay, sub reader), public sex, unprotected sex, humiliation (?), dacryphilia, rough throat fucking, cunillingus, jake tried to be angry but went soft, overstimulation, double vaginal penetration, creampie, anal sex (mxm). MDNI! WC: 21.5K

want a taste?

"I think red nails would look good on me, don't you think?" You flipped your hand over, inspecting your nails with a thoughtful look.

Sunoo barely glanced up from his phone before reaching out to grab your hand, tilting it side to side. "Hmm... Maroon, definitely. With silver designs," he decided with a nod.

"Almond shape?" you asked, watching his expression closely.

Sunoo furrowed his brows, eyes drifting toward the ceiling as he considered. "Square could work too... gives that classic, clean look. But yeah, almond is a solid choice. It'll look good when you're, like, casually reaching for things."

"Okay, I should set an appointment with the nail tech Wonyoung keeps talking about," you mused, already pulling out your phone. As you both walked past a full-length mirror in the store, you stopped in your tracks, turning your head slightly to get a better look at yourself.

"Maybe I should cut my hair, no?" You ran your fingers through the strands, tilting your head as if trying to picture it. "Or maybe I should dye it? What color do you suggest?"

Sunoo looked up from his phone, finally giving you his full attention. His mouth was slightly open, eyes squinting as he observed you.

"I tried a new makeup style today," you continued, adjusting your reflection with your fingers. "I don't know if it suits me yet, but if I cut my hair, maybe it would. This length would be good, right?" You pointed just below your ears, mentally mapping out the bob cut you were suddenly considering.

Sunoo blinked, then gasped dramatically. "You're planning to get a bob cut, bitch? Are you fucking serious?!"

You raised an eyebrow at his tone. "What? You don't think it would look good?"

He placed both hands on your shoulders like he was about to shake some sense into you. "Do you have any idea what a bob cut means?"

You laughed, shaking him off. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Short hair on a hot girl?" Sunoo huffed, crossing his arms. "That's a crisis cut. A post-breakup cut. A someone just emotionally wrecked me and I need a fresh start cut!"

You rolled your eyes, but your smile faltered slightly. "Maybe I just want a change."

Sunoo wasn't buying it. He crossed his arms, his expression shifting into something more serious. "Yeah, right." He paused before adding, "By the way, Jake keeps texting me, asking when our vacant period is. He says you're not replying to them."

Your steps faltered, but you quickly regained composure. "I already told them I'm busy," you said, forcing a casual shrug. "Our internship is coming up next year, so I have to start networking now. I need professors to recommend me to the best hospitals—ones that actually offer jobs after the internship."

Sunoo narrowed his eyes. "That's a solid excuse, I'll give you that. But babe, you're literally ghosting them."

"I'm not ghosting."

"Bitch." Sunoo deadpanned. "You left them on read for two weeks."

"Because I'm not in the mood to fuck them anymore," you said flatly, resuming your pace.

Sunoo gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. "Oh my god. The coldness. The absolute heartlessness." Then, his voice softened. "Babe, you sound like a total bitch right now, but I know you. And I know there's a reason you cried that night."

You exhaled sharply, staring straight ahead.

"I'm your friend," Sunoo continued, his tone gentler now. "You can tell me if they hurt you. Did they do something? Say something? I mean, yeah, they're my friends too now, but you know I'll always have your back first. So tell me."

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "It's not like that. They didn't do anything."

"I just... I don't know, Sunoo." You stopped walking, running a frustrated hand through your hair. "I thought I could handle it. I thought it would be easy to keep things casual. But the longer I stayed, the harder it got. Now, it just fucking hurts."

Sunoo crossed his arms, watching you carefully. "You like them."

"Sunoo—"

"You like them," he repeated, this time with certainty. "Not just one of them. Both of them."

Your throat felt tight. "It doesn't matter."

Sunoo scoffed. "It matters if it's eating you up like this."

You swallowed, avoiding his gaze. "I was never supposed to catch feelings."

Sunoo let out a long breath, his expression softening. "You're human, dumbass. Not a fucking robot. It was bound to happen."

"It doesn't change anything." Your fingers clenched at the hem of your uniform. "It's just—fuck. I don't even know where I stand with them. I mean, they're sweet, they treat me so well. Who wouldn't fall for them?" You let out a bitter chuckle. "But that's the thing, isn't it? I don't know if it means anything."

Sunoo tilted his head, watching you carefully. "Have you told them how you feel?"

"What for?" You scoffed. "So I can humiliate myself? So I can hear them say, 'Oh, that's cute, but we never actually saw you that way'?" You let out a hollow laugh. "No, thanks."

Sunoo pursed his lips. "You don't know that's what they'd say."

You exhaled sharply, tilting your head back. "It doesn't matter, Sunoo. Because even if—if—they felt something, it wouldn't change the fact that I'm still just an extra in their relationship. They've had each other for years. I'm just..." Your voice faltered, and you forced a small smile. "Temporary."

"Babe," Sunoo frowned. "That's a really shitty way to look at it."

"Is it?" You met his eyes, voice quieter now. "Or is it just reality?"

Sunoo sighed, rubbing his temple. "I'm saying, maybe just tell them what you feel. Communicate—"

"No." You cut him off, shaking your head. "It's better to just move forward. Cut them off and be done with it." Your voice wavered, but you quickly steadied yourself. "As I said, even if they did feel something, it wouldn't change anything." You swallowed the lump in your throat, "I'll just consider them a hookup. That's all they were supposed to be anyway."

Sunoo huffed. "Look, babe. You wouldn't be spiraling over them, trying to change your hair, your nails, your entire damn life just to get away from the way they made you feel." He sighed again. "I get it. Feelings suck. But lying to yourself? That's worse."

You exhaled sharply, looking away. "It doesn't matter, Sunoo."

"It does matter." He poked your forehead. "And sooner or later, you're gonna have to face it."

Well, too bad because Sunoo didn't have a choice but to deal with your stubbornness. He had seen you shut down before, had watched you bury your emotions so deep that even you forgot they existed.

Avoidance was the only way. Cutting them off was the only way. If you ever told them the truth, it wouldn't change anything. If they did feel something for you, it still wouldn't matter. Because being together with two guys? It wasn't realistic.

Jake and Jay were perfect together—enough for each other. Their love was already deep, already established, already real.

You were just an afterthought, a temporary distraction, a spice added to their relationship to make things more exciting for a while.

That was why you had to let it go. Because holding on would only break you more.

Avoidance was the only option. But that didn't mean it was easy.

You shared three majors with them, which meant there was no real escape. Every time Jay or Jake tried to talk to you, you scrambled for a half-baked excuse, something—anything—to put distance between you.

And you felt guilty. Because at this point, you weren't just avoiding them, you were leaving Sunoo to deal with the fallout.

Every. Single. Time.

"Sorry, I already made plans to get my nails done," you said, forcing a smile as Jake grabbed your arm after your laboratory class, trying to pull you toward the arcade.

"We can just go with you!" Jake perked up immediately, his eyes practically sparkling at the idea. He turned to Jay, beaming. "Right?!"

Jay, as always, was quieter, but his gaze was on you.

You resisted the urge to sigh. "Uh—actually, I'm going with my other friends."

Beside you, Sunoo tensed, trying not to roll his eyes so hard they got stuck.

"Then Sunoo can go with you guys," you added quickly, shoving the attention onto him.

Sunoo's head snapped toward you so fast,  "Excuse me?" His expression was pure betrayal.

Jake blinked, tilting his head. "Wait. Sunoo's not going with you to get your nails done?"

"Nope!" Sunoo answered before you could. "Because I'll be with you guys. Losing all my money on rigged machines. Can't wait!"

He hooked his arms through Jake and Jay's, dragging them away before you could say another word. But not before shooting you a sharp, knowing look.

Avoidance was the only option, but it was hard.

It was almost funny, how desperately you were trying to erase them from your life, only for your own mind to betray you at every turn.

Jay's lips were always dry. Did he ever listen and start using the lip balm you recommended? Or was he still stubborn about it?

Jake had a terrible habit of not drinking enough water, always running on boundless energy until he inevitably crashed. You wondered if Jay kept that in mind—if he reminded him to drink more, if he handed him a bottle without a word, the way you used to.

Not your problem anymore.

"Your nails are so pretty!!!" Wonyoung screeched, grabbing your hand and turning it under the flashing club lights. The silver designs shimmered, catching every flicker of neon.

"Thank you," you muttered, tipping back your drink without hesitation. The alcohol burned down your throat, but you welcomed it. Anything to dull the edges. Sunoo sat beside you, talking how he wants to have sex tonight.

Another drink. Then another. By the time the rest of your friends arrived, your head was already buzzing, you can't even keep up with the conversation anymore. You laughed at the right moments, nodded when necessary, but your mind was elsewhere.

"Can you recommend a good waterproof mascara?" you mumbled, resting your head against Sunghoon's shoulder.

He exhaled through his nose, clearly unimpressed with your state. "I don't know? Maybelline, I guess? Or some Japanese brand—those are good too."

"You're gay," you giggled, voice slightly slurred.

Sunghoon scoffed, shifting slightly so you didn't slide off him. "How the fuck is that gay?"

"You just know things." You poked his chest, eyes drooping.

"It's called having sisters, dumbass," he deadpanned.

You giggled, the alcohol making everything funnier than it should be. "Hehehe, ever since you joined our group, you've had this, like... boy love energy."

"I'm not into boy love," he muttered, taking a sip of his drink.

You gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your chest. "Oh my god. You're homophobic."

Sunghoon choked on his drink so hard he nearly spit it out. "What?! Where the fuck did you get that from?"

"How are you not into boy love?" You slurred, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "Boy love is great. It's wholesome, it's cute, it's—"

Your voice cracked and your lips wobbled, remembering Jay and Jake. Suddenly, your eyes burned.

You sniffled. Sunghoon, who had been mid-rant about how you made no sense, suddenly froze. He stared at you, wide-eyed.

"Hey... are you—are you crying?"

You sniffled, waving a hand dramatically. "I miss them."

Sunghoon blinked. "Miss who?"

"Boy love!" you wailed, smacking the table. "Boy love is so cute! It makes me so jealous! Agh—fuck! How can you not like boy love?! I miss seeing some boy love, but it hurts seeing some boy love!"

"Bro, what the fuck are you talking about?"

You sniffled harder, rubbing your eyes aggressively. "It's so unfair. Why are they so perfect together? Why can't I just be happy watching them be happy?!"

Sunghoon, still utterly baffled, slowly turned his head, scanning the club for someone or anyone to deal with your mess. His gaze landed on Sunoo, who was currently twerking in the middle of the dance floor, hyping himself up with your other friends.

"It's really hard to avoid them," you hiccupped, wiping at your face with the back of your hand. "I miss them."

Sunghoon let out a slow breath. "Uh-huh."

"I'm making the right decision, right?" you asked, eyes wide and desperate, like you were begging him to validate your self-sabotage.

He scratched his head awkwardly. "Uh... yeah?"

"Yes," you repeated, sniffling. "I'm right. They'll stop. They'll forget me. They'll live happily ever after."

Sunghoon nodded again, then you let out a wobbly sigh. "I will also forget about them," you declared, before promptly bursting into tears again.

You wiped your nose aggressively. "I'll just go back to my old self. No more stupid feelings, no more heartbreak, no more—no more them."

He gave you a cautious thumbs-up. "Sounds... healthy."

"I'll just masturbate with my vibrator," you continued, completely ignoring him. "At least my vibrator doesn't make my heart hurt."

Sunghoon groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Jesus Christ."

"Women can over-complicate things, and that's because they go deeper—sometimes too deep, admittedly."

Yes. Exactly. To avoid over-complicating things, avoidance was the only solution.

You were just walking down the hallway, minding your own business, when a hand suddenly grabbed yours.

You yelped, eyes widening. "What the—?!"

Before you could even react, you were being pulled, not roughly, but firmly, until you stumbled into an empty mini-theater room. The door clicked shut behind you, and your heart pounded as you whipped around.

"Jake?"

He was standing there, hand still wrapped around your wrist, brows furrowed, lips pressed into a tight line. His usual playful energy was nowhere to be found.

The room was too quiet and intimate. The only sound was the distant hum of the campus outside, muffled by thick walls, the kind that trapped secrets and held them hostage. Your pulse was a dull roar in your ears as you stared at him.

God, you missed him. The playful lilt of his voice, the way he always smelled like clean laundry and something unmistakably Jake. You missed the way he touched you—soft, then rough, then soft again. You missed them. Him and Jay.

Your chest tightened, instead you swallowed, immediately trying to pull away. "Jake. Let go."

His fingers twitched against your skin, like he was debating something—like he wanted to hold on a second longer, just in case you changed your mind. But then, finally, he released you, but he didn't step back.

He was still too close.

"You are avoiding us." He said, wounded by frustration. "Why?"

Panic coiled inside you, what the fuck. You weren't ready for this. Your thoughts scrambled, reaching for an excuse, anything—anything—that would make him back off. Think. Think. Think.

But then Jake's face softened, and he exhaled shakily, rubbing a hand over his mouth. "I'm sorry if we did something wrong," he said. "Just—please, talk to us. If you don't want to have sex anymore, that's okay. I understand. We understand." He took a step closer, voice cracking slightly. "Just don't shut us out, please."

Fuck. You almost caved. Jake have this eyes that knew exactly how to weaken you, but you spent enough time to hardened yourself. Pulled your walls up so high that even you couldn't see over them.

Lied through your fucking teeth.

You crossed your arms, forcing a blank expression. "I'm busy, Jake. I don't have time to play around with you two anymore."

Jake blinked, hurt was flashed across his face. "P-Play around?, I-Is that what this was to you?"

You scoffed, "What else would it be?"

Jake's expression twisted, like your words had physically knocked the breath out of him. Good. Maybe he'd finally get the hint.

"Look, Jake." You forced yourself to keep your voice steady, swallowing down the lump clawing its way up your throat. "I don't want to be mean, but get a fucking clue. Okay? Yes, I'm avoiding you. You and Jay were fun. The sex was good. But that's all it ever was."

Jake inhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. His eyes, still locked onto yours. "Just explain to us, why?"

"I don't owe you an explanation in the first place!" you snapped, voice rising despite yourself. You could feel your resolve cracking, your emotions clawing their way to the surface. But you couldn't let them win. You couldn't let him see you break.

Lied through your fucking teeth.

"I got tired of it, okay?!"

Jake's breath came out unsteady. "You could've just told us," he said, "I-Instead of... this—instead of just shutting us out like we never meant anything. We're friends, r-right?"

That last word came out, and his voice cracking, and that was what almost broke you.

Because Jake was looking at you like he was desperate to understand, like he needed you to say something—anything that could make this all make sense.

"Friends?" You let out a cold, hollow laugh, tilting your head like he'd just said something stupid. "Jake, we were never friends."

The second the words left your mouth, Jake flinched, his breath stuttering. His entire body stiffened, his shoulders curling inward.

"Don't say that," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "You don't mean that."

You clenched your jaw so hard it ached. "I do."

Jake swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he stared at you like he was trying to see through the wall you'd just slammed between you. Like if he looked hard enough, he'd find something—some sign that you were lying.

But he wouldn't. Because you were good at this. You were good at pretending.

"Just tell me why," he tried again, softer this time, more pleading than before. "If you ever cared about us at all, just... tell me why you're doing this."

Your hands curled into fists at your sides, nails biting into your palms, your entire body screamed at you to stop, to take it all back, to fix this.

But you couldn't. You forced out a sigh, rolling your eyes. "God, Jake, you're so clingy." Jake flinched, and you saw the exact moment something in him cracked.

"You took everything way too seriously," you continued. "It was just sex. I don't know what the fuck you thought this was, but it wasn't deep."

"You were convenient," you added, twisting the knife deeper. "That's all. And now? I'm over it."

Jake sucked in a breath, his shoulders stiffening. You noticed the way his lips trembled. And then slowly—he nodded.

Tears streaked his cheeks, but he didn't wipe them away. He didn't lash out. He didn't beg. He just looked at you—looked through you—his expression heartbreakingly soft despite everything.

Jake didn't yell. He didn't curse you out, didn't demand answers or call you a liar. Instead, he just stood there, letting the weight of your words settle between you. His eyes were soft—too soft, filled with a quiet kind of devastation that made your stomach churn.

Without another word, he turned and walked away. The door clicked shut behind him, and that was it.

Your body sagged the moment he was gone, like the strings holding you together had been severed. You sucked in a breath, trying to steady yourself, but the air felt suffocating. Your hands trembled at your sides, your fingers twitching like they wanted to reach out, to pull him back.

Don't break down. Don't be weak. You did what needed to be done.

One minute. Just one minute to get yourself together.

Your heart pounded against your ribs, your throat burned from holding back something that wanted to crawl out, guilt, regret, longing, you didn't know. Didn't want to know.

Then, finally, you exhaled. Straightened your back. Set your shoulders and walked out.

The hallway was quiet, but not empty.

Your steps faltered as you saw them—Jake, standing there with his back slightly hunched, his hands gripping the hem of Jay's uniform. His shoulders shook and his breathing uneven.

And Jay stood right in front of him, tense and rigid, watching him with a concern expression. His fists were clenched, but his hands hovered just slightly—like he wanted to touch Jake, to comfort him, but didn't know how.

And when he looked up, his eyes found yours. The softness that was there for Jake was gone.

Jay's gaze was dark, sharp, and cold in a way that made your breath hitch. There was no visible anger, just an overwhelming quiet rage simmering.

Your pulse kicked up, you immediately turned away to avoid his gaze.

Spun on your heel and walked in the opposite direction, forcing your steps to be even, controlled. Ignoring the way your chest ached, the way your throat felt tight, the way your lungs felt like they couldn't get enough air.

You did the right thing.

BACK in high school, Jay never really liked being around too many people. He wasn't exactly antisocial, he could hold a conversation when needed, and he got along fine with classmates.

But having a solid group of friends wasn't his thing. Socializing felt like a chore, something that drained him. It was exhausting trying to keep up with people's expectations, their small talk, their unnecessary drama. So, he kept his distance, floating between different groups without ever fully settling in.

Girls, especially, were a whole different kind of exhausting. He wasn't clueless—he knew most of the guys in his class were obsessed with them, always whispering about who had the best tits, passing around porn links like they were trading cards.

Sure, Jay could admit that women were attractive. Sexy, even. Tits were nice, pussy was great. But in his experience, being around women felt more like a headache than a pleasure.

They were too complex, too hard to figure out. One moment they were sweet, the next they were upset over something he didn't even understand. And somehow, he was always expected to know why. It was frustrating. The high-pitched screeching in the hallways, the emotional rollercoasters, the way they'd take out their bad moods on him for no reason—it was all too much.

So, he stayed detached. Women were beautiful, but from a distance. Up close, they were just another thing he didn't have the patience to deal with.

"Did I just... get rejected?"

Jay barely had a second to process before the words came tumbling out from the stranger standing in front of him. The guy was wearing a soccer jersey, his eyes red-rimmed like he'd been crying for a while.

Jay raised an eyebrow, not sure why he was being dragged into this. He didn't even know the guy.

"Do you think I'm ugly?" the stranger asked, pouting up at him like some kicked puppy.

Jay gave him a once-over. The guy was about his height, maybe a little smaller, with messy hair and wide, golden-retriever eyes that only made his pathetic expression worse.

"She said I give the best head," the guy continued, sniffling. "But, continue to say some monologue that it's not me, it's her. What does it even mean?"

Jay sighed, running a hand down his face as he stared at the sky. Out of all the people this guy could've dumped his sob story on, why him? He just wanted to go home, lay in bed, and maybe practice a few guitar solos, not babysit some heartbroken stranger.

And that's how he met Jake.

If Jay was being honest, Jake could be a lot to handle. He was loud, clingy, and had the attention span of a golden retriever, but somehow, they just worked.

They balanced each other out in a way Jay never expected. They didn't argue much, jealousy was never an issue, and even when they weren't in the mood to deal with each other, they just shrugged it off—no drama, no unnecessary fights.

And Jay loved him. So much that he followed him to university, enrolling in the same classes just to be with him.

That was why, when Jake first brought up the idea of a threesome, Jay had been flabbergasted. He wasn't the sharing type. He was possessive by nature, and the thought of someone else touching his Jake made his blood boil. But Jake was patient, communicating his feelings in the only way he knew how: between tangled sheets.

It took months for Jay to even consider it. He didn't know what to think, didn't know if he'd be okay with it. Whether it was another guy or a girl, the thought of it made him wary.

Then, one day, he and Jake went out to his favorite café, and that's when he noticed you.

You weren't looking at him. You were looking at Jake. Staring—too long, too obvious.

Jay's eyebrow twitched. He knew exactly where he had seen you before.

You were the girl at the freshmen welcoming party, kissing random girls like it was nothing, completely lost in the haze of alcohol. He remembered the way you moaned when two girls did body shots off your stomach. You were that drunk—so far gone that, by the end of the night, it was him and Jake who had been instructed to carry you back to your dorm.

And now here you were, staring at his boyfriend.

You like guys too?

He huffed, raising an eyebrow when he caught you looking.

Then there was the train ride during the retreat. Another moment. Another time you stared at Jake when you thought no one was looking.

Jay had noticed.

"Do you think she's into threesomes?" Jake had whispered to him that night, curiosity practically dripping from his voice. He was always like this—open, playful, intrigued by new experiences.

Jay had just sighed, brushing the thought aside. "How would I know?"

He didn't think about it much after that. At least, not until he saw you sneak out of the drinking room at the retreat.

And for some reason, he followed.

He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was suspicion, or maybe it was something else. And that's when he saw you grinding against some guy named Heeseung, lips locked in a messy kiss, your whimpers barely muffled by the night air.

Jay's fists clenched at his sides. He should've turned back. Should've left. But instead, he stood there, watching.

And fuck, he didn't expect his pants to feel this tight.

Jay thought you were beautiful. Not just in the obvious way—yeah, you had the kind of face that turned heads, but it was more than that. You had this energy, this pull, something that made people gravitate toward you like you were a magnet. And Jay had always been the type to keep his distance, to stay in control, but even he wasn't immune to it.

And he knew Jake wasn't either.

Jake was naturally affectionate, clingy even, but with you, it was different. He paid attention in a way Jay had never seen before, like he was cataloging every little thing about you.

"She likes soft textures," Jake mused, scanning the shelves of the convenience store. He grabbed a puff pastry filled with chocolate and strawberry, tossing it into their basket. "She'd like this."

Jay raised a brow, watching as Jake continued down the aisle, muttering to himself.

"I think we should get makeup wipes," Jake said, grabbing a pack without hesitation. "She uses this brand, right?"

Jay exhaled through his nose, amused. "Since when did you memorize her entire skincare routine?"

Jake shrugged, grinning. "Since she started leaving her stuff at our place."

That part was true. At first, it had been little things, a stray hair tie, a forgotten hoodie—but now there was a whole section of their bathroom cabinet stocked with your products. Your shampoo was in their shower. Your chapstick was on the nightstand. Your presence was everywhere, lingering like the scent of your perfume.

It annoyed him, how easily you captured Jake's attention, how effortlessly you slipped into their dynamic like you'd always belonged there. Jay had never been the jealous type, not really, but something about the way Jake gravitated toward you, the way he paid attention to you in ways that felt too careful made something uneasy settle in his chest.

But over time, Jay realized it wasn't just Jake.

He found himself watching you more often than he cared to admit, listening when you talked, remembering the small details about you without even trying.

He started noticing things—how you always smelled like vanilla and something sweet, how your nose scrunched up when you were focused, how your lips parted slightly when you were about to tease someone. It wasn't just Jake who was drawn to you. Jay was, too.

"Men have different parts in their brain," their professor droned on at the front of the lecture hall, pacing slowly as he gestured to the board. "It's an anatomical difference that affects communication—"

Jay barely heard the rest. Instead, his attention drifted to you, slumped against Sunoo's shoulder, your mouth slightly open as you slept. Sunoo was just as bad, his head tilted against yours, completely knocked out.

Jay huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

The two of you looked ridiculous, but for some reason, he felt that same annoying warmth in his chest that he'd been trying to ignore. The same feeling that made him buy your favorite snacks at the convenience store without thinking. The same feeling that had him listening a little too intently whenever Jake talked about you.

"Anatomical difference, my ass. Men just use their dicks instead of their mouths, that's why they're assholes," Yunjin muttered, typing away on her laptop while half-listening to the lecture.

Jay didn't agree with that. He knew men communicated—just differently. Maybe not with words the way women did, but through actions and through presence.

Like how Jake never outright said he wanted you, but always found an excuse to bring you up in conversations, to keep you close.

Like how Jay himself never said much at all, but still, for some reason, his attention always gravitated toward you.

They just had different ways of showing affection, and for a while, Jay thought that was enough.

Until it wasn't.

"It's freezing. What are you doing out here?" Jay asked, stepping onto the snow-covered porch where Jake sat curled in on himself. The night air was sharp, biting against his skin, but Jake didn't seem to notice.

Jay's eyes trailed over him—his red nose, the slight tremble in his fingers, the way his eyes were swollen and glassy.

"Were you crying?" Jay frowned, reaching out to tilt Jake's face toward him.

Jake flinched, but he didn't pull away. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

"Baby, talk to me," Jay said, firmer this time.

"I—I..." Jake's voice wavered. His breath came out in a shaky cloud, visible against the cold air. "I'm sorry."

Jay's brows furrowed. "For what?"

Jake squeezed his eyes shut, as if saying it out loud would break him.

"I like her, Jay."

Jay's breath hitched at the confession, Jake had always been expressive—his love was loud, easy, all-consuming. But maybe, just maybe, Jay had never truly listened. Never truly looked. Because if he had, he would've seen this coming.

Jay let out a slow breath, steadying himself. Then, without hesitation, he cupped Jake's face, thumb brushing away the tear that slipped down his cheek.

"I'm sorry, I know it's wrong —"

"You don't have to be sorry," Jay murmured.

Jake sniffled, confused. "But—"

Jay shook his head, cutting him off. "I like her too."

Jake stilled. His grip on Jay's jacket loosened slightly, as if he didn't believe what he just heard.

Jay exhaled, looking past Jake for a moment, toward the snow-covered street, the dim porch light casting a soft glow around them. It had taken him too long to realize it, but now that the words were out, they felt right.

"I didn't want to admit it, but I get it. I get why you feel this way."

Jake's lips parted slightly, his breath hitching. "Then why did we—" He hesitated. "Why didn't we talk about this sooner?"

Jay fell silent, because that was the problem, wasn't it?

Their entire relationship had been built on silent understandings, unspoken words, actions instead of conversations. It had always been enough—until it really wasn't.

Jay wasn't the type to talk about feelings, and Jake... well, Jake always just went with whatever Jay was willing to give.

Jay sighed, finally meeting Jake's gaze again. "Because we never really talk about things, do we?"

Jake let out a breathy, broken laugh, shaking his head. "No. We really don't."

Jay reached up, threading his fingers through Jake's hair, pulling him into a slow, grounding hug. Jake melted into him instantly. For a while, neither of them spoke. The cold wind bit at their skin, the snow crunching softly beneath their feet as they shifted slightly in place. But neither moved to go inside.

"I miss her," Jake finally whispered. His voice was small, fragile in a way that Jay rarely ever heard. "Is it right to tell her how we feel?"

Jay stiffened slightly at the question, that was the real problem. It wasn't just about their feelings anymore—it was about yours too.

He wasn't an idiot. He had noticed the shift in your energy, the way you had started pulling away, the way your texts had become shorter, emptier.

Maybe you felt it too. Maybe you had been trying to fight it just as much as he had.

But unlike him, you had chosen to run.

And Jay hated that.

Because the truth was, he had spent so much of his life avoiding unnecessary complications, keeping people at arm's length to protect himself from feelings he didn't know how to deal with. Relationships were easy when they were just sex, when there were clear boundaries that everyone followed.

But you had blurred every single one of those lines.

He had spent months trying to ignore the way he felt, convincing himself that this was nothing more than what it started as — just a bit of fun. But then you wormed your way into their lives in ways he never anticipated.

It was in the way you laughed at Jake's stupid jokes, in the way you pout your lips at certain foods, in the way you always took extra time to make sure Jake was drinking enough water or that Jay wasn't skipping meals.

It was in the way you would fall asleep on their couch, curled up like you belonged there, as if you had carved a space for yourself in their world without even realizing it.

And yet, they had never said anything. They had never talked about what any of this meant, never acknowledged the growing weight of their emotions.

"I don't know," Jay admitted, "but I know I don't want to lose her."

Jake swallowed hard, his grip on Jay tightening. "Me neither."

He wasn't sure how to approach this, wasn't sure how to untangle the mess they had all made. But one thing was certain—he and Jake wanted you.

And if there was even the slightest chance that you wanted them too, Jay would figure out a way to make this work.

Poly relationships existed, didn't they?

And if that was the way to keep you, then Jay would do everything in his power to make you stay.

...

Except you were acting like a fucking bitch.

Despite all the planning, about how to approach this properly, Jake had gone ahead and done the one thing Jay told him not to do—talk to you without a plan. Without giving you time. Without preparing himself for the worst.

And now Jake was curled up in Jay's arms, shaking, trying to choke back his sobs while Jay clenched his jaw so tightly.

Jake was impatient, and you were pushing them away.

Jay's head was going to fucking explode. He didn't know how to handle this. He hated seeing Jake cry, hated the way his hands trembled as he held onto him. Hated the way you had shut them out like they didn't mean a goddamn thing to you.

Well, he knew that they meant something to you.

Jay's patience had been stretched thin for weeks now. Every time he thought he might have a chance to talk to you, you slipped away like smoke between his fingers. It was pissing him off. He could feel you pulling back, putting up walls he hadn't even realized were there. And the worst part is he had no fucking idea how to break them down.

He wasn't the kind of guy who begged. He wasn't the kind of guy who chased. But for you? For you, he was losing his goddamn mind.

"Hey, shhh, it's okay, I'll talk to her," Jay murmured, his voice steady despite the frustration simmering beneath the surface. Jake sniffled, his face buried in Jay's shoulder, but his grip didn't loosen. His whole body shook, fingers digging into Jay's back.

Jay sighed, bringing a hand up to wipe Jake's wet cheeks with the pad of his thumb. Jake's lips trembled.

"She's not even giving us a chance."

Yeah, he fucking noticed.

And it pissed him off. Not just because you were avoiding them, not just because you were pushing Jake away—but because Jake wasn't even mad about it. He wasn't angry; he was hurt. Both of them knew you didn't mean what you had said that day. But what could they do when you refused to talk? When you were so hell-bent on running?

"...Many individuals engage in self-sabotage not because they don't want happiness, but because they fear it."

Jay blinked at the professor's voice, his jaw tightening as he focused on the lecture.

"Fear of commitment, avoidance of intimacy, and reluctance to accept positive emotions often stem from deep-seated insecurities. This can manifest as pushing people away when they get too close, fixating on imperfections to justify emotional distance, or convincing oneself that they are 'better off alone.'"

He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face.

"To put it simply," the professor continued, leaning against his desk, "people self-sabotage when they don't believe they deserve good things. They anticipate failure or abandonment, so they preemptively destroy what could be good before it has the chance to hurt them."

Jay's head instinctively turned to where you usually sat. Your seat was empty. Of course, it was.

His fingers drummed against the desk, irritation flaring in his chest. He already knew you were avoiding them, but it was becoming worse. First, it was the silent treatment, then skipping plans, ignoring texts. Now, you were barely showing up to class. What the fuck were you thinking? Were you really about to fail a major subject just to get away from them?

Jake nudged him lightly, his eyes worried. "She's really doing this, huh?"

Jay clenched his jaw. "Fucking ridiculous," he muttered.

He didn't understand. Why were you acting like this? They had never once made you feel unwanted. Never treated you like an afterthought.

The professor moved on, but Jay wasn't listening anymore. His mind was spinning, the weight of your absence pressing heavily against him.

Prelims came and went. And still—no shadow of you.

Jay barely glanced at his exam paper as he turned it in. He had spent the past hour only half-focused, tapping his pen against the desk in frustration, mind elsewhere. He already knew his score wouldn't be his best. Not with the way you were consuming his every thought.

Outside the exam hall, Sunoo approached him hesitantly. Jay didn't miss the way he shifted awkwardly on his feet, fingers twisting together like he was debating whether to speak.

"I'm sorry," Sunoo finally said, sighing. "I hope... whatever's happening with you guys, you'll be patient with her."

Jay exhaled sharply through his nose. Yeah. He was trying to be patient, but patience was running thin when you wouldn't even look at them anymore.

Sunoo hesitated again before glancing around, making sure no one was listening. "It's not my story to tell," he admitted carefully, voice softer, "but she likes the both of you." He shook his head, lips pressing together. "She just... she's being negative."

Jay's grip tightened on his exam booklet. Of course, he fucking knew that. It wasn't just obvious—it was the only explanation that made sense. But hearing it from Sunoo, having someone else confirm it, should have made him feel better. It didn't.

Because knowing that you wanted them didn't change the fact that you were pushing them away. It didn't change the fact that you were choosing to ruin this before they even had a chance to prove to you that it could work.

Sunoo studied Jay's face, reading his silence before sighing. "She's just scared," he muttered. "That's how she is."

Jay huffed out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah? Well, I'm getting really fucking tired of watching her run."

Sunoo gave him a look, almost as if to say, then catch her.

Fine. He would. One thing was clear—this avoidance shit? It needed to end.

They had to talk. They had to communicate. Well, they had been trying. But talking to you was like grasping at smoke. Jay had tried to contact you, but it was clear you had soft-blocked them both. His messages stayed unread. Calls went straight to voicemail.

Jay had tried to find you. But every time he did, you ran. Midterms came. Jay was exhausted, irritated, and so fucking done with the distance.

And then, he saw you. Laughing like nothing had happened, like you hadn't disappeared off the face of the fucking earth. You were standing outside the library with a group of friends, flexing your nails dramatically as the others fussed over them. Jay's steps slowed. Your hair was different, it was short.

A bob cut. The sight of it made his chest tighten. It wasn't a bad thing—hell, it looked good. But it was different. You were different.

He inhaled sharply and stepped forward, but before he could close the distance, your gaze flickered up. And you saw him for a second your expression froze.

Then, before Jay could even process it, someone else entered the scene.

Some guy. That fucking guy and his girlfriend.

Jay watched as they approached you, watched as the girl kissed your cheek, Heeseung slinging an arm around your shoulder.

And you let them. You let them pull you away before Jay could even reach you. No fucking way.

"Do you think we should give up?" Jake had asked once. Jay only shook his head. No.

Communication is key—but with the way you're acting, they need a different strategy to reach you.

You don't get to run. Not anymore. Men speak in different ways they said, and if the softest way doesn't get through to you then he'll have to go rough.

"Oh my God, this is the most chaotic event ever," Sunoo complained loudly, fanning himself dramatically with his schedule sheet. "Who in their right mind thinks it's a good idea to hold university games when summer is practically melting us alive? That's actual insanity."

Sweat clung to your forehead, your clothes sticking uncomfortably to your skin. All around you, students were sprawled across the open field, desperately searching for shade or breeze.

Sunghoon turned on his small turbo fan and aimed it toward you and Sunoo. A soft hum filled the air, and you immediately leaned into the stream of cool air.

"Bless your soul," you moaned, eyes fluttering shut as the breeze hit your face.

Meanwhile, Wonyoung sat cross-legged on the grass nearby, sipping water with a serene expression, completely unbothered by the scorching sun.

"This is actually so unfair," you muttered, glancing at her in disbelief. "I look like a soggy dog, and she's out here looking like a skincare commercial."

"She's probably not human," Sunoo said flatly.

You slumped dramatically closer to the turbo fan, shoulders sagging with defeat. "Why did you even register us for dodgeball?!" you whined, voice muffled as you practically shoved your face into the breeze. "I look like I've been through five stages of grief, I don't even barely survive now that we don't do anything, then what about tomorrow."

Sunoo shrugged, unapologetic. "It's tradition. And it's the only time I get to legally throw a ball at people I don't like."

You gave him a flat look, lifting your face just enough to mutter, "That includes me, doesn't it?"

"Depends on how much more you complain," he deadpanned, eyes hidden behind his oversized sunglasses.

Sunghoon leaned slightly forward with a furrowed brow. "Hey, your mascara is kind of melting. Like... a lot."

You gasped, sitting up straight. "No! No, no, no—" You fumbled through your bag in a mild panic, fishing out your phone. The moment your reflection came into view, you groaned. "I look like a raccoon who just got dumped."

"You always say that," Wonyoung chimed in with a lazy smile, finally acknowledging the conversation as she shifted beneath her sun umbrella. "And yet somehow you still pull."

"Not in this heat I don't," you grumbled, pressing a tissue to the corner of your eye. The moment you pulled it back, it was smudged black. "Great. I look like I'm melting from the inside out."

You leaned into the mirror on your phone, trying to fix the damage but the more you dabbed and adjusted, the worse it got. The eyeliner smeared into your under-eye, and your lashes clumped at odd angles. You cursed softly under your breath, cheeks hot with both embarrassment and the unforgiving sun.

"I need to go to the bathroom," you muttered, standing quickly and brushing off the back of your shorts. "This is a mess—I need to fix this before I look like I got dumped and then thrown into a fire."

"I told you to change your mascara," Sunoo mumbled. "Waterproof isn't just a suggestion in this weather."

"I didn't think it'd get this bad!" you hissed, reaching for your bag—which, naturally, was hanging from Sunghoon's overburdened shoulder. He handed it off without complaint, arms already full of Wonyoung and Sunoo's things too.

"Where are you going?" Wonyoung asked without moving.

"To salvage my face," you said over your shoulder. "If I don't come back, assume I drowned in the sink."

You didn't wait for a reply, slipping away from the group as your shoes scuffed against the hot pavement. The chatter of students faded behind you, replaced by the distant hum of activity inside the university. The moment you entered the shaded hallway, the temperature dropped just enough for you to breathe.

Your footsteps echoed lightly as you made your way toward the restroom, the cold tile of the building cooling the soles of your feet through your sneakers. You exhaled a long, slow breath—finally out of the noise and the sun.

You pushed open the bathroom door and slipped inside, letting it close behind you with a soft click.

You dropped your bag on the counter, you pulled out your makeup, eyeing the smudged disaster on your face. Carefully, you began dabbing away the ruined mascara and eyeliner, patting concealer beneath your eyes and slowly rebuilding the illusion of composure. Your lashes clumped slightly as you reapplied your mascara, and you leaned in closer to the mirror to separate them.

You were just about finished when a voice cut through.

"Figured I'd find you here."

You jumped, nearly knocking your makeup pouch off the counter. Your head whipped toward the door—where Jay stood, leaning against the frame.

"This is the girls' restroom," you snapped, the panic slipping into your voice. The last thing you wanted was to be cornered by him. And God, of all the times, why did he have to look so fucking good in that damn denim jacket?

Jay didn't flinch. He just stared. "It's not like I haven't seen everything already," he said, stepping inside and letting the door swing shut behind him with a low thud.

You scoffed, hard, grabbing your bag off the counter. "Right. And that gives you a free pass to stalk me now? Is that how it works?"

Jay's jaw tightened, but his voice stayed low. "I didn't stalk you. I came to talk. Since you're ghosting every call, and message, avoiding us, and you made Jake cry," he added, emphasizing the last part.

"Maybe because I don't want to talk," you bit out, slamming a lipstick back into your bag. "I already told your boyfriend—I'm done with the both of you. So stop. Stop being so fucking annoying."

You tried to storm past him, but his hand shot out fast, gripping your shoulder, forcing you back.

"What the hell is your problem?!" you snapped, "You think cornering me like this is gonna change anything?"

Jay's eyes darkened, his voice dropping a notch. "Yeah. Maybe it will. Since the version where I let you push us away didn't work."

"You don't get to decide how I feel," you hissed, shoving at his chest. "You don't get to show up like this just because you're pissed I won't answer you."

"And you don't get to shut down every time something doesn't go your way," he shot back. "You act like you don't care, but if that were true, you wouldn't be shaking right now."

Jay's eyes dropped to your arm, the subtle tremble giving you away. You quickly swallowed the lump rising in your throat and tucked your arm behind your back.

He raised a brow. "Can you stop being a brat for five seconds and just hear me out?"

You scoffed, biting down the sting in your chest. "I told you—I'm not interested anymore. Why are you so damn pushy?!"

"Because we fucking like you!" Jay snapped, you stiffened, the silence that followed hitting louder than his voice had. Your breath caught. His jaw clenched, and the space between you suddenly felt way too small.

Being with them isn't realistic.

Push them away.

Lied through your fucking teeth.

"Wow. Great. That's your excuse?" you spat, though your voice shook just enough to betray you. "You like me, so now I'm supposed to just roll over and forget everything? Grow up, Jay. That's not how this works."

Jay stepped forward slowly. You instinctively backed up, your spine hitting the cold edge of the counter.

"You felt something too," he said, eyes fixed on you. "Don't bullshit me."

"Shut up," you shot back too fast, and too obviously defensive.

He didn't stop. His gaze locked on yours, footsteps steady. "You can act cold, pretend you're done, like we didn't get under your skin. But I know better."

You pressed harder into the counter. "You don't know shit," you hissed. "It was a mistake. A phase. Whatever the hell you thought you saw—it wasn't real."

Jay's mouth curled, smirking. "Funny. That 'phase' made you tremble like that? That mistake had you gasping my name?"

Your chest rose and fell fast, your heart thundering behind your ribs like it wanted out.

He leaned in, close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath. "You're not scared of us. You're scared of how real it felt. You're scared because it meant something—and you don't know what the hell to do with that."

"Shut up," you repeated, but your voice cracked on the edge of it this time.

Jay went still and finally, he heard it. That tiny crack in your armor, the one you didn't mean to let slip. The one he'd been waiting for.

His expression shifted, the usual smirk gone. What was left was quiet, focus and dangerous stare.

"You can keep pushing us away. Say it was fake. Say it was a lie. But you and I both know—" his voice dipped, "—it was the most real thing you've ever felt."

You clenched your jaw, refusing to look at him. If you met his eyes now, it was over, you knew it. So you stared at the floor, at the sink, at anywhere but him.

"Look at me," he said.

You didn't. So he grabbed your jaw, rough, and tilted your face toward his. Your pulse pounded in your ears as you locked eyes with him. And that was it. The moment cracked open, revealing everything you hadn't said.

His gaze bore into you, not blinking, not softening. "You gonna keep pretending this meant nothing?" he murmured, breath ghosting over your cheek. "You gonna keep walking around like you're not haunted by us every fucking night?"

You said nothing because you couldn't. Jay stepped in closer, so close the space between you vanished, the scent of his cologne hitting you hard, that familiar deep and musky. Your legs wobbled, barely holding you up, and you cursed your body for betraying you.

He leaned in, his hand still holding your face, thumb brushing the edge of your lip. "You really think you can just move on? That someone else is gonna touch you the way we did? Know you the way we do?"

His voice dropped even lower, a growl at the edge of it. "You think you're just gonna give that cunt to someone else?" His hand slid down, slow, dragging along your throat, pressing just enough to make your breath catch. "You think it's gonna listen to them?"

Your thighs clenched on instinct. Fuck.

Jay caught the reaction—he always noticed. His lips curved just barely. "Your body doesn't lie," he said, "It remembers us. The way you moaned. The way you begged. That pussy listens when we speak. You know it. I know it."

His hand rested just above your chest now, feeling your heartbeat racing beneath it.

"You can lie all you want," he said, eyes dark and locked on you. "But your body's telling the truth."

You were frozen, pulse slamming in your throat, heat spreading beneath your skin. Jay's lips brushed the shell of your ear. "Say it didn't mean anything. Look me in the eye and say it."

A soft, broken gasp—no, worse. A moan left your mouth. You felt the slow smile curl against your skin, felt the change in the air as his grip shifted.

"There she is," he murmured. "Couldn't hold it in, could you?"

"Fuck you," you choked, breathless, humiliated, every inch of your skin lit up with heat and shame.

His hand slid from your chest to your neck again, thumb brushing your jaw as he tilted your head up. "You already did," he said. "And you fucking loved it."

His other hand slid to your hip, fingers digging in just hard enough to make you gasp. Then he stepped in fully, pressing his body flush against yours, pinning you between the counter and him.

"Push me away," he said, his forehead resting against yours, breath mingling, eyes locked on you like a hunter cornering prey.

But you couldn't look away. His scent coiled around you, and your legs barely held you up. You felt it, the warmth blooming between your thighs, the traitorous ache soaking into your panties, and you hated how much he could still do this to you with so little.

"Push me away," Jay repeated. "Make me cry the way you fucking did to Jake."

His hand tightened around your throat suddenly. Your hands flew to his wrist on reflex, clutching him but you didn't push. You didn't even try. A squeak escaped your lips, your fingers just held him there, trembling, as the air caught in your throat and heat flared down your spine.

"Stop talking," you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut, as if you could block out the sound of his voice.

But his grip on your throat only tightened. "Why?" Jay murmured, his tone taunting. "Can't take it?"

Your lips parted, breath ragged. "I—I'm s-sorry, okay? I'm sorry," you gasped.

Jay's eyes narrowed, and a sharp, mocking smile curled at his lips. "Sorry?" he echoed. "Now you're sorry?"

"No. You don't get to say sorry and pretend that fixes this," he snarled. "You lied. You ran. You made Jake cry. You threw us away —and now look at you."

"Look at yourself," he hissed. "Pathetic little whimper in your throat every time I speak."

You tried to shake your head, but he didn't let you. "No. Don't look away now," Jay growled, fingers still wrapped tight around your throat, forcing your eyes up to meet his. "You wanna play cold? Strong? Then own it. Stand tall. Push me off. Say it was all a fucking lie."

Your lips trembled. You tried. You tried to hold it in—but everything broke at once. "It's not!" you cried, voice cracking, hands shaking against his wrist. "It's not! I'm sorry!"

Your chest heaved. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to—I just—" your voice splintered into breathless pieces, eyes glassy, vision blurring, "please just—just—fuck!"

You grabbed his shirt, knuckles white.

"Touch me, please!"

The words left your mouth like a scream torn from your core, soaked in shame, in need.

"There's the truth." His grip released your throat to slide lower, hands now on your waist. Your hips met his, and the hardness pressing against your core made your breath stutter, arousal flooding you so hard your legs gave a twitch.

"You begged," he whispered, eyes never leaving yours. "Say it again."

You swallowed hard, breath catching, lips parted and trembling.

"Say it," he repeated like a command. "Say it so you remember how low you got."

You hesitated, just for a second, but the ache between your legs, the fire in your belly, the heat in your cheeks—it was too much.

"Please..." you whispered, eyes wide, voice shaking. "Touch me."

Jay tilted his head slightly, then leaned in to your ear again, mouth brushing your skin. "Louder."

You shut your eyes, biting your lip, humiliated but so fucking far gone. "Please," you gasped, louder now, every word dripping with shame, "touch me. I need it. I need you."

Jay didn't answer immediately. He let the silence hang heavy, waiting—making you sweat in it. Then he leaned closer again. "Think you deserve it?"

Your breath caught. "No..." you whispered. "N-No. I don't."

Jay smiled. "Exactly." And then, without another word, he pulled away. Just let go of you and stepped back, turning his back.

"H-Huh?" you breathed, the air suddenly cold without his touch. "Where are you going?"

"Back to the field," he said flatly. "You don't deserve shit—not after all the stupid games you played."

Panic flared so violently inside you it made your knees weak. The throbbing heat between your legs was unbearable now, your panties soaked, your stomach aching from how badly you needed release. But worse than the arousal was the cold pit of humiliation, of abandonment.

You lunged forward, clutching his wrist with both hands. "No, no—please! I'm sorry!" your voice cracked. "Please, I'm sorry, I just— I got jealous. With you and Jake, I— I like you. I like both of you, I just thought..."

You were sobbing now, tears spilling hot and fast down your cheeks. "I thought it would be better if I was out of the picture. I didn't know what to do. I miss you! I— I need you. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

Jay turned slowly. "And you acted like a bitch because you thought it'd be better?" he hissed. "We chased you for three fucking months."

You froze, mouth parted, lips trembling. "And what did you do?" Jay continued, voice rising. "Blocked us. Ignored us. Walked away like we were nothing. Like you didn't feel anything."

"I did," you whispered. "I did."

He stared down at you, breathing hard, chest rising and falling, eyes locked on your tear-soaked face and the hands still clutching his wrist

"You're going to earn your place back," he said coldly. "We're not just taking you back. You'll crawl for it. You'll beg for it."

You stood there, frozen, tears still fresh on your cheeks. Shame burned through you, and the arousal between your legs was only getting worse.

"You want me to touch you?" he asked, his voice low, mocking. "You think I'll give that to you just like that? Just because you cried a little? Because you finally admitted you fucked up?"

You shook your head slowly, lip trembling. "N-No..." you whispered.

"No?" he echoed, lips curling. "Then why are you still standing like you're in control?"

You blinked at him, confused for half a heartbeat. And then the word dropped. "Kneel."

You flinched. Your legs almost didn't respond but your body knew. Knew the command, knew his tone, knew exactly what was expected. Your knees buckled beneath you, and you sank slowly to the floor, the cold tile biting into your skin.

Jay towered over you now, looking down with nothing but cold amusement in his eyes. "Pathetic," he muttered. "You were so full of fire. So quick to run your mouth. What happened to all that attitude, huh?"

You kept your head down, cheeks flushed hot, hands trembling in your lap.

He stepped in close behind you, hand fisting in your hair and yanking your head back just enough for you to gasp. "I should make you wait longer," he said, staring down into your eyes. "Should make you watch me walk away again. But then I'd miss watching you break. And I like this view too much."

Your lips parted, breath caught between a sob and a moan.

"You know what I should do?" Jay whispered. "I should call Jake. Let him see what's left of the girl who told him she was 'done.' Let him see you begging on your knees, soaked and broken. You think he'd feel sorry for you?"

You shook your head again, tears welling up all over, and yet—your thighs pressed together.

Jay smirked. "Yeah. That's what I thought."

He released your hair, let you slump forward just slightly. "You're going to stay right here," he said. "On your knees. Hands behind your back. You don't get to touch. You don't get to beg again unless I say."

"Yes..." you whispered, eyes shut, heart racing. "Yes, okay..."

You heard the soft rustle of denim—Jay pulling off his jacket and tossing it carelessly onto the counter. The metallic click of a belt followed, then the slow grind of a zipper sliding down. The sounds alone made your pulse spike.

Jay stood above you, fingers resting at his waistband. His gaze dropped down to meet yours and the look in his eyes made your stomach twist in the most helpless, humiliating way.

He shifted his stance slightly, drawing closer, one hand sliding into the front of his jeans, adjusting himself as his breath hitched low in his chest. A dark patch spread along the front of his briefs, Jay let out a low hiss through his teeth, his jaw tightening as he watched you watching him.

Jay's thumb brushed your bottom lip, dragging the soft flesh down just enough to part your mouth. With one hand, he pushed his briefs down just enough to free himself, fingers wrapping around the thick base of his cock. The head was flushed, already wet at the tip, and he slowly angled it toward your waiting mouth.

You opened for him without hesitation, lips parting wide, tongue slightly curled. You saw the flicker in his expression, by the way his breath hitched sharply, his brows twitching together.

"Fuck..." he muttered under his breath, just before his hips surged forward. The sudden thrust made your throat constrict, a choked gasp escaping you as you adjusted, eyes watering.

Both of his hands moved to your head now, fingers splaying through your hair, rough and needy. He let his fingertips glide against your scalp at first, almost soothing, before his grip tightened. A sharp tug followed.

"Why'd you cut your hair, anyway?" he asked, breathless, but the question was half a growl, half a genuine bite of irritation. His fingers tangled in your shorter strands, clearly missing the length he used to wrap his fists in.

Tears blurred your vision, slipping down your cheeks, but you didn't stop. Your throat worked hard around him, swallowing, adjusting, the wet sounds of gulp, gulp, gulp are echoing against the tile walls of the bathroom.

Your lips stayed stretched around him, tongue coiling beneath the shaft, dragging slow and deliberate from the base upward as you swallowed him again and again.

The world outside the bathroom didn't exist. You'd forgotten where you were, forgotten the echo of distant footsteps, the fact that the tiled walls weren't just enclosing heat and pleasure but public space. You were too far gone in the taste of him, in the stretch of your lips, in the burn of each breathless gasp you took through your nose.

Then—knock knock. A sharp, sudden rap on the door snapped. You flinched, instantly trying to pull back, eyes wide in panic, throat clenching around him. But Jay didn't let you go.

"Shh," he murmured. His fingers tightened in your hair, the other hand sliding to the back of your neck. Before you could react, he forced you down—all the way. His cock sank into your throat in one sharp, complete thrust, your nose pressed flat against the skin of his pelvis. The breath caught in your lungs. Your eyes watered harder. You were choking, but you stayed, frozen, as his grip held you exactly where he wanted.

The door creaked open.

"It's just me," came a soft, casual familiar voice.

You heard the unmistakable click of the lock sliding into place behind him. A moment later, you could feel the weight of Jake's stare, as he stood there, just inside the bathroom door, watching.

Jake's tone was edged with uncertainty, but not surprise. "You said you were just gonna talk," he said as he took in the scene—your knees on the cold tile, face flushed, cheeks hollowed, and Jay buried deep in your throat.

Jay exhaled through his teeth, head tilting back slightly, his grip finally loosening just enough for you to breathe again. But he didn't pull out.

"That's her way of apologizing," Jay hissed, his hips rolled forward again with purpose, forcing another wet choke from you. "Isn't that right?"

His hand remained in your hair, holding you steady, guiding your mouth with every thrust. His other hand slipped down to your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your lips, smearing the spit that clung there like gloss.

You looked up and there was Jake.

You'd always remembered Jake as soft-spoken, the kind of boy smiled too gently. Sweet to a fault. The kind of person who would've cupped your cheek and whispered it was okay, would've helped you up and kissed the tears from your face.

But not now. Now his eyes weren't soft. They were cold, sharp and predatory.

Even through the blur of your lashes and the sting of fresh tears, you saw it: the shift. The hunger.

"You're crying," Jake said. He tilted his head, studying your face. "She's crying, Jay."

And how you remembered, too well, the way he had this thing with you crying every time he fucked you. A fascination of your tears.

"She should be," he said flatly. "After the shit she pulled? She should be sobbing." He thrust forward again, slow and deep, watching your throat stretch to take it.

Jake didn't blink. His expression didn't soften. He just knelt lower beside you, one hand resting casually on his knee as he leaned in a little closer. His eyes were fixed on your tear-streaked face, watching every twitch of your mouth, every breath you struggled to take around Jay's cock.

His cock twitched in his pants. There was a fire building in his chest stoked by the sight of you like this—on your knees, choking, tears running, all for his boyfriend. And yet... all he could think about was that moment. That time he tried talking to you, voice soft, reaching out with patience, and you'd barely looked at him. Just shrugged him off.

Maybe he'd been too kind. No—he had been too kind.

Jake didn't know exactly what he was feeling as he watched Jay drive himself deeper into your mouth, but it wasn't softness. Not anymore. A new edge in his blood he hadn't recognized before. Every time your throat clenched, every time another tear slipped down your cheek, something inside him twisted tighter.

"You're so unfair," Jake said. He stood slowly, eyes never leaving your face.

Jay reached up, hand curling around the back of Jake's neck, fingers threading into his hair. He pulled him down, and their mouths met in a slow kiss.

You whimpered around Jay's cock, your voice small and choked as your eyes followed the scene unfolding above you.

They didn't look at you. Their kiss deepened quickly, mouths open, tongues sliding together in a messy, hungry rhythm. Jay tilted his head, humming low against Jake's mouth, and Jake responded with a moan that vibrated through him—a sound that made Jay's grip on your hair tighten just slightly.

Their bodies leaned into each other, mouths devouring, heat bleeding off them like they'd forgotten you were even there. You whimpered again, louder this time, throat sore, nose running, your jaw aching, but they still didn't acknowledge you.

Then you sobbed, your body trembling as another wave of tears spilled down your cheeks. Jake pulled back from the kiss, breathless, lips slick.

"Stop being dramatic," he muttered as he looked down at you. His hand came down with no hesitation, fingers sliding into your hair alongside Jay's to push you further.

You whimpered one last time, cut off by the sudden pressure as your head was forced forward. Your nose pressed flush to Jay's skin again, throat stretched to its limit.

"Shut up," Jake said quietly. Jay hissed through his teeth, his body jerking slightly as your throat took him again, deeper now under Jake's added weight.

You gagged again, but Jake didn't flinch. He just turned his head and watched his boyfriend with a crooked smile. before leaning in to kiss him again. Their mouths met above you, hot and open, tongues sliding as if you weren't there.

You couldn't breathe.

Your throat burned, raw and stretched too wide, and your jaw felt like it was splitting apart under the unrelenting ache. Jay's pace had become erratic now, his stomach bouncing against your nose with each desperate thrust. You could feel the tightness in your chest spreading, oxygen slipping further and further out of reach.

Your lungs screamed. Your eyes streamed. But neither of them looked down.

And just when you felt his cock throb in warning, when your body tensed in anticipation of the inevitable—

Jake pulled you off.

You gasped as you were suddenly released, choking, coughing, collapsing sideways onto the cold tile floor. Your body folded, weak and trembling, chest heaving as you dragged in greedy, ragged breaths. Your lips were swollen, spit-slick and trembling, and the back of your throat felt like it had been clawed raw.

You barely had time to lift yourself onto your elbows when you saw Jake move again.

He dropped to his knees smoothly in front of Jay, his mouth opened without a word, and he took Jay in deep, his jaw relaxed. You watched through bleary, tear-streaked eyes as Jake's head began to bob, slow and sinuous, his lips wrapped around the same cock that had just brutalized your throat.

Jay groaned, one hand bracing against the counter, the other curling in Jake's hair. His hips jerked once, twice—and then he came.

Jake didn't flinch. He swallowed it all, his throat working silently, eyes fluttering shut as if savoring it. His fingers dug into Jay's hips, keeping him in place as the last tremors rolled through him.

You stayed on the floor, trembling, watching through a curtain of tears you couldn't stop.

Jake pulled back with a wet drag of his mouth, lips glossy, tongue flicking out to catch the last trace of Jay's release. He looked up at him with hooded eyes, mouth still parted slightly, breath heavy. Jay let out a soft, breathless laugh, brushing Jake's hair back from his face.

Something in you twisted again. Bitter. Ugly. It crawled up your chest and sat there. You wiped your face with the back of your trembling hand, smearing the tears more than cleaning them. The other reached up shakily, trying to push your hair out of your eyes, trying to regain some kind of dignity.

But Jake didn't give you the chance. He turned to you slowly, head cocked, still licking the corner of his mouth. His gaze locked onto you, that same hunger was still in his eyes.

"You think you're done?" he asked. Jay's hand dropped from Jake's hair, and looked down on you again. 

Jake stood and approached you with the lazy certainty of someone who already knew you wouldn't resist.  He crouched in front of you, his face level with yours. He reached out and brushed your hair back

Your lips trembled as you tried to speak. "I-I'm sorry, Jake..." you whispered, barely able to meet his eyes. "Both of you mean something to me. I just... I didn't know how to handle it. I miss you. I didn't mean to make you cry. You're precious to me, baby."

Jake stilled. For a moment, he didn't blink. His gaze searching yours. His breath hitched, just enough to give him away, his jaw tightening as his face flickered with softness. Behind you, Jay leaned back against the wall with a soft exhale, arms crossing over his chest. His eyes flicked between the two of you.

Jake's hand hover near your cheek, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. You leaned into it simply to feel him again. Just that brief, tender contact that used to come so easily. Your skin brushed his fingertips, and he didn't pull away.

"I'm so sorry," you sobbed. Your body trembled, shoulders shaking, the emotion too big to contain any longer.

Jake exhaled sharply, his entire demeanor going soft suddenly. "Shhh..." he finally whispered, pulling you into him.

His arms wrapped around you tightly, and he tucked his face into the side of your head. His nose pressed gently to your temple. One hand moved to your back, slowly rubbing up and down.

"You meant it?" he murmured. "All of it?"

You nodded into his shoulder, arms tightening around his waist as you clung to him. "I meant it," you whispered, breath hitching. "Every word."

Jake didn't move right away. He just held you there, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other drawing slow, rhythmic circles against your spine. You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, faster than it should've been.

For a moment, everything else faded— the ache in your throat, the sting of your tears, even Jay's quiet presence nearby. It was just Jake. Just the closeness you hadn't had in too long.

"I should be angry," Jake murmured after a pause. "But I missed you too much." He pulled back just slightly, enough to look at you. "Don't lie to me again. Don't run." he said softly.

"I won't," you whispered. "Let me fix things." The moment the answer left your lips, Jake moved, he hooked his arms beneath you, lifting you up.

You let out a small gasp as he turned, setting you down on the cold counter behind you. Your back hit the mirror with a soft thud, the glass cool against your scalp as your legs instinctively parted to accommodate him stepping in between them.

He kept his eyes on yours, even as his hands moved to the waistband of your shorts, his fingers working them down. "Let's fix things, huh?" he murmured, dragging your shorts down in one motion. "You want to make things right?"

You nodded again, barely able to breathe as the air hit your wet skin.

"Then spread those pretty thighs," Jake growled under his breath. He dropped the fabric carelessly to the floor, hands sliding up your inner thighs, his eyes landed on the soaked fabric of your panties before he pushed them aside.

"Already dripping," he muttered. His fingers pressed against your folds through the soaked cotton, dragging slowly up your slit, teasing you. The friction of the fabric sent jolts through your core. He pressed a little harder, making your hips twitch in response.

Another presence pressed close—Jay. He moved in behind Jake. "You're spoiling her again," Jay said as he leaned in, his breath warm against your neck.

His hands slid up your body from behind, palms rough, until they found your breasts. He cupped them through your top, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they stiffened beneath the fabric. He gave a sharp little pinch that made you whine, your body jolting forward as your thighs tensed around Jake.

"I don't think she's learned her lesson though," Jay muttered, rolling your nipples between his fingers lazily.

"She looks sorry," Jake said, but his eyes were locked on your glistening cunt. "But I don't think that mouth means anything until it's begging."

Jake dropped to his knees between your legs, mouth already parting as he pressed it against your heat. He pushed the fabric aside with one hand and gave your folds a slow, deliberate lick that made your head fall back against the mirror.

"I'm sorry," you choked out, voice shaking. "I mean it—please. I'm really sorry!"

Jake didn't answer. He just groaned against your pussy, his tongue flicking against your clit. The vibrations made your thighs clench around his head, but he held you in place, grip firm, unmoved by your squirming.

Jay chuckled above you. "That's one. Keep counting." He leaned in closer, lips brushing your ear. "You don't get to say you're sorry once and expect it's over, sweetheart."

"I am, I swear—" you gasped as Jake sucked your clit into his mouth, making your hips jerk. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Jake. Jay, please—please forgive me..."

Jay's hand slid lower, fingers trailing a heated path down your trembling stomach. His hand slipped between your thighs, right above Jake's head, and his fingers found your clit in seconds, rubbing slow, tight circles in contrast to the deeper movements of Jake's tongue.

The combination made your head tilt back, a cry caught in your throat.

Jake groaned against you, the sound buzzing through your core as he pushed his tongue into your hole, fucking you with slow, deep strokes. His nose nudged against Jay's fingers as he worked in tandem.

Jay's free hand found your breast again, making your shirt up to your collarbone and exposing your skin. His fingers found your nipple in your bra, pinching it between his knuckles until your back arched involuntarily.

Jake pulled back just enough to speak. "She tastes like guilt," he muttered before dipping back in. This time, his tongue flattened against your slit, licking long and firm, each pass rougher than the last.

"I am guilty!" you cried out, voice cracking as your fingers clutched the edge of the counter. "I fucked up—I know I did, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—I missed you, both of you—"

Jay didn't respond right away. His thumb rose to your throat, brushing the hollow there gently, deceptively.  "You're not forgiven yet," he said calmly. "But keep begging. Maybe we'll believe you."

Jake moaned into your cunt, tongue working harder, faster, burying himself in your heat while his grip on your thighs tightened, nails biting into your flesh to keep you still.

Your body arched reflexively, head pressed hard against the mirror behind you. The cold glass was a cruel contrast to the fever building inside you, the friction between their mouths and fingers making your thoughts blur and your words tumble out in desperate, breathless gasps.

"I'm sorry—please, I'm so sorry—Jake, Jay—don't stop, please—don't leave me—I'll do anything—"

"You will do anything," Jay murmured, lips brushing your jaw as he kept one hand working your clit and the other still wrapped around your throat. "But that doesn't mean we're done punishing you."

Jake pulled back just long enough to spit on your cunt, watching it drip down before diving back in.

"Y-Yes, yes, yes..." you breathed. A few strands of your hair had fallen across your face, clinging to your flushed cheeks. Jay tsked under his breath, brushing the messy hair away with care. His fingers swept your temple, tucking the strands behind your ear to clear the view. He wanted to watch your face, every twitch, every tremble, every silent plea written across your features.

Jake's tongue flicked over your clit again, followed by a slow, deep press inside. Your thighs shook against his shoulders, toes curling over the edge of the counter.

"You don't even know which one of us you're moaning for, do you?" Jay whispered.

"I c-can't—" you whimpered, breath stuttering. "I'm sorry—Jake, Jay—I'm sorry, I swear—please..."

Jake growled softly between your legs, like your apology alone made him want more. He shifted his angle, tongue plunging deep as his nose rubbed against your clit, creating friction that made your spine arch and your head knock back into the mirror again with a dull thud.

Jay caught your head this time, hand sliding behind your skull, fingers threading through your hair.

"You'll come like this," Jay murmured, his lips brushing yours without closing the distance. "On his tongue, with my hand around your throat, and every breath you take will be ours."

"Jake—fuck!—Jay—I'm—" You choked on your own voice, the climax coiling inside you about to snap.

Jake didn't slow. His tongue moved in steady, ruthless strokes. His grip on your thighs tightened, keeping you anchored, legs trembling under the weight of everything he was drawing from you.

Jay's hand remained firm around your throat, not choking but holding. His thumb pressed lightly just beneath your jaw, grounding you as the rest of your body lost control. His eyes stayed locked on yours, watching every flicker of surrender build in your face.

"Look at me," he ordered softly. "Don't look away."

You tried—God, you tried—but your vision blurred with tears and white-hot pleasure, your eyes fluttering, lashes damp as you clung to consciousness. "I—can't—" you gasped, every breath shallow, high-pitched.

Jay leaned in, brushing his mouth against yours without kissing you. "You can," he whispered. "You will."

Jake's mouth locked around your clit, sucking hard, his tongue flicking fast, perfectly cruel. One hand slid beneath your ass, lifting you just enough to change the angle, and the pressure hit exactly where you needed it. The world around you fractured.

Your entire body arched.

A scream tore from your throat as Jay's hand held your windpipe and Jake's tongue forced you over the edge. Your vision went white behind your eyelids, every nerve in your body seizing with the violence of your orgasm. Your thighs clamped around Jake's head involuntarily, hips grinding into his mouth.

"There it is," Jay growled, watching the climax crash through you. "Fuck, that's it. That's what sorry looks like."

You sobbed, mouth open and shaking as aftershocks rolled through you, making your legs twitch, your fingers slip on the counter's edge.

Jake didn't stop right away. He licked you through it, each drag of his tongue coaxing every last tremor from your core. Only when your body jerked from overstimulation did he finally pull away, mouth slick, chin wet, his breath ragged.

"Goddamn," he muttered, voice rough as he looked up at you from between your legs. "Still the sweetest fucking thing I've ever tasted."

Jay eased his grip on your throat and let your head fall forward against his shoulder. You collapsed into the space between them, boneless, panting, your body trembling and used, your voice lost somewhere.

Jake rose, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he reached for his waistband. He was flushed, breath ragged, hands already moving to undo his pants. You lifted your head weakly, eyes wide, still dazed as you looked up at Jay. "A-Are we really doing this? In here?"

Jay arched a brow. "Jake just had his mouth buried in your pussy," he said smoothly. "Don't start playing modest now. Don't be selfish."

Jake let out a sharp breath as he freed himself, hissing softly as his hand wrapped around his cock.

Your breathing hitched when he stepped in closer. He lined himself up with you, the swollen head of his cock teasing your entrance, sliding up through your folds, collecting the wetness there before grinding it against your clit.

You whimpered at the friction. "My back hurts..." you managed to stammer out. "It's... it's uncomfortable."

Jake didn't even flinch, he pushed in his whole length into you in one motion. You both moaned at the feeling.

"We'll make it comfortable." Jake growled, breath hot against your cheek as he gripped your waist. 

Without warning, he lifted you off the counter, his hands strong under your thighs. You let out a startled gasp, your legs instinctively locking around his hips as he held you up with ease. His cock stayed buried inside you as he adjusted his grip, settling you in against him.

"Ahh—Jake!" you cried out as he began to move, bouncing you on his cock. Every thrust drove him deeper, the sound of skin on skin echoing sharp against the cold tile walls. Jay moved without a word. He slipped in behind you, one hand found your hip, steadying you as your body jolted from Jake's pounding pace, while the other reached up, sliding to seize your breast.

"God, fuck—" Jake groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your damp skin before he started kissing and biting, not caring about the sweat.

Jay's mouth found your shoulder first, then your throat, trailing wet kisses up your jaw until he reached your lips. Your head lolled back against him, mouth already open, and he took full advantage—tongue slipping between your lips, swallowing the moans Jake was forcing from your chest.

You whimpered into Jay's mouth, his cock grinding against your lower back, the friction syncing with every bounce of your hips. Your body moved helplessly between them, each movement rubbing him against you, closer... lower...

"You're so fucking wet," Jake growled against your throat. "I can feel it all over me." He thrust harder, teeth grazing your shoulder as he panted.

Jay broke the kiss with a sharp nip to your bottom lip, tugging until you gasped. "I think we'll fit," he said, voice low, eyes flicking down to where your bodies met. "Don't you think?"

Your heart lurched.

Your eyes widened as you felt Jake adjust his stance, your weight shifting in his arms. Your body tensed immediately, the pressure at your core tightening to near-panic. "Wait! W-Wait—!" you stammered, breath catching in your throat.

Jay was already positioning himself, one hand on your lower back, the other on Jake's hip for balance as he leaned in. You barely had a moment to catch your breath before you felt it—his cockhead, thick and hard, pressing lower just beneath where Jake was already buried inside you.

The angle was careful. Slick with your arousal and the lingering wetness of Jake's earlier mouthwork, Jay began to push slow his shaft grinding against Jake's through the tight squeeze of your entrance, the pressure unbearable even before he was fully inside.

Jake slowed immediately, holding you tighter in his arms, breath ragged against your cheek. His voice was low, firm, grounding.

"Relax for him. Breathe. You can take it."

But your body was shaking, the stretch is too intense, and too foreign.

"Fuck! I can't—" The words tore from your throat, panic bleeding into your tone—cut off almost instantly when Jake surged forward and kissed you. His mouth swallowed your cry as Jay began to sink in, splitting you further, claiming space that wasn't there.

Your entire body tensed, clutching, pulsing, your walls clamping down instinctively on both cocks as they shifted inside you, working together to make room.

Both men moaned low in your ears. "Shit," Jake gasped into your mouth, breaking the kiss just to breathe. "Fuck, she's tight—Jay—go slow."

Jay's groan was more guttural, his lips brushing your shoulder. "I am—she's gripping us like she's trying to push us out."

You whimpered as your body was forced to take it—all of it. The thick drag of Jay's cock sliding in alongside Jake's, every inch of your walls stretched to their absolute limit, friction pressing between them, heat building inside you so violently it made your toes curl.

Their hips pressed in unison, the base of their cocks grinding together deep inside you, buried to the hilt. You could feel them inside each other through you, the shared space, the impossible pressure, the slow pulse of them twitching inside your cunt, both thick and deep and so full it.

Jay hissed, forehead pressed to your back. Your mouth hung open, panting. All you could do was hold on—legs locked around Jake's waist, arms limp around his shoulders, your body trembling violently between them.

You couldn't tell where the pain ended and the pleasure began.

Jake's head dropped to your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. "I can feel him," he whispered. "Fuck, I can feel him moving through you."

Jay's hand shifted from your hip to Jake's jaw, guiding his face upward. Their bodies pressed so close, only you between them, joined not just through you, but with you.

Jay leaned in, lips met Jake's, tongues brushing, mouths sliding together as their hips shifted slightly, still buried inside you. Their kiss deepened quickly, tongues pressing hard, teeth grazing. Jake groaned into it, when he pulled back from Jay only to kiss you next.

His lips claimed yours fast, almost needy—salt and sweat and desperation—and Jay didn't wait. He was already kissing along your neck, up behind your ear, while his hand slid between you to stroke your clit with slow circles.

The shift in pace was dizzying. They weren't pounding into you. Not yet. They were just holding you. Deep, warm, kissing, mouths trading between you and each other.

Jake finally broke the kiss, forehead pressed to yours as he whispered, "You feel like heaven right now."

Jay's mouth brushed your shoulder again. "She's shaking. Poor thing's too full to even speak."

Your fingers digging into Jake's shoulders, back arching slowly. The pressure of them both still lodged inside you kept your body humming with tension.

Jay kissed the side of Jake's mouth again before murmuring, "Move with me, baby."

Jake nodded once. They shifted. And then, slowly, carefully, they began to move.

One would pull back while the other pressed in, your body stretching and clenching around the rhythm. It was slower than before, more controlled, but no less overwhelming. The glide of two thick cocks inside you, perfectly in sync, had your body twitching, tears pricking your lashes again.

Their mouths kept moving, on your throat, on each other, across flushed skin and slick shoulders. They didn't speak much, just low moans, shuddered breaths, the soft slap of bodies finding rhythm again. Jay's hand never left your clit. Jake's arms held you close.

"Stay with us," Jake whispered into your mouth, the tip of his nose brushing yours.

"Don't run next time," Jay added, his voice deep in your ear. "We just want to keep you." And their cocks kept moving, slow and deep and together, keeping you open, full, and exactly where you belonged.

Jake shifted slightly beneath you, adjusting his stance, the grip on your thighs tightening as he found more control in his movement. The slow rhythm gave way to more deeper, and faster, his hips slapping up with wet, rhythmic sounds that bounced off the walls.

The moans pouring from you grew louder. You were unraveling again, overstimulated, but your legs refused to stop twitching, clinging around Jake's waist as your hands clawed at anything for purchase—his shoulders, Jay's neck, the edge of the mirror behind you.

A sudden sound echoing outside, footstep and people murmuring as they pass by. Panic stabbed into your chest. You froze for a moment, instinct flaring, shame bubbling up behind your ribs. The reality of where you were hit hard—legs wrapped around one man, another flush to your back, both of them inside you, fucking you, right there in the university bathroom.

But the pleasure didn't stop. You twitched, thighs squeezing reflexively, a cry caught in your throat. "Someone's—"

Jay's hand came up instantly, cupping the side of your face as he leaned in, swallowing your next sound with a kiss. His mouth sealed over yours just as Jake drove up harder, his thrust knocking the breath from your lungs, forcing the moan straight into Jay's waiting tongue.

"Let them hear," Jake hissed, voice rough against your skin, his pace unrelenting now. "Let them wonder who's making you sound like that."

The footsteps outside faded, but your heartbeat didn't slow. It thundered in your chest, driven by both fear and the savage pleasure coursing through your nerves.

Jay broke the kiss with a strand of spit between your lips, eyes half-lidded, and flushed. "You're squeezing us like you want to get caught," he murmured, fingers slipping between your bodies to rub your clit again, drawing a fresh, keening whimper from your throat.

Every drag of their shafts against each other inside your overstretched cunt sent aftershocks through your core, your body trembling violently with each grind and press. The feeling of them rubbing together inside you, separated only by the thin, spasming walls of your body, wasn't just overwhelming—it was ruinous.

"F-Fuck," Jake choked, hips jolting up hard. The impact of his thrust slammed you forward into Jay's chest, your breath ripped from you as your body tried—and failed—to brace for the intensity.

Jay grunted, catching your body easily, his hand fisting your hair as he held you in place. His cock surged deeper alongside Jake's, the slick sound of their movements inside you impossibly loud in the quiet space.

"Can't hold it," Jake panted, sweat dripping from his temple, breath stuttering. "She's—she's so tight I can feel you through her—fuck, Jay—"

Jay growled, his own control shattering with every convulsion of your clenching walls. You could barely think anymore—your mouth hung open, no words left, only broken gasps and sobs as your body tightened around them again. The pressure had built too fast. It rolled up from your core, cresting so high you couldn't breathe.

Your orgasm hit hard. It exploded through your abdomen, a pulsing, electric burst of heat that seized every muscle. You screamed, not even a word, just sound—your voice breaking as your cunt clenched violently around them, walls spasming uncontrollably.

"Fuck—" Jake snarled, the rhythm of his hips shattering.

He slammed in once more, his cock jerking violently inside you as he came with a rough moan, hot pulses of cum flooding your cunt. You felt every spurt, thick and hot and deep, and the sensation of being filled only sent another shiver of pleasure rolling through your already-fractured nerves.

Jay wasn't far behind. Your body's violent squeezing around both cocks at once pushed him over the edge—his thrusts turned erratic, hard, his breath tearing through his chest.

"Gonna fill you up," he groaned against your throat, voice ragged, hips pressing as deep as they could go. "You're gonna take all of it."

Then he came. You felt the way his cock throbbed next to Jake's inside you, the rush of hot fluid spilling in, mixing with Jake's release, both of them pouring into the same aching space. Their hips jerked in sync, involuntary tremors shaking them as your body held them tight, refusing to let go.

Your own climax still burned through you, wave after wave wracking your limbs, your nails digging into Jake's shoulders as your vision blurred.

You were just there, caught between their shaking bodies. They didn't pull out. They stayed inside you, panting, foreheads pressed to your skin, arms wrapped tight around your waist. The room was filled with the sounds of heavy breathing, the soft whisper of sweat-slicked skin, the occasional stuttered groan as aftershocks rolled through all three of you.

Jake leaned his forehead against yours. "Fuck," he breathed. "You're so beautiful."

Jay's hand came up to stroke your side. "No more running, okay?" he murmured, his lips brushing your temple as he spoke. "We're going to talk this time. Really talk."

You tried to nod, but your head only shifted slightly. A soft, low hum escaped your throat as your vision swam and your body slumped against Jake's chest. Everything ached. You weren't sure if your legs were still attached, or if you'd ever feel your core without that deep, burning throb again.

It had been so long since you'd let yourself be used like that... and even longer since it had ever felt like this. Safe. Claimed. Held.

Jake was the first to move, easing himself out of you. You whimpered faintly at the loss, but even that sound felt distant in your own ears.

"Hey," he whispered, fingertips brushing your cheek. He tapped gently, calling your name. "Hey, come back to me, baby."

But you couldn't answer. Your eyes were half-open, glazed with exhaustion. Your body limp between them. There was no strength left in your limbs just the slow throb of overstimulation and the deep, quiet ache that said you'd been pushed right to the edge of yourself.

Jake's expression changed instantly. "Shit—she's out of it," he muttered, voice sharp with guilt.

Jay's brows furrowed. "She's overwhelmed. Fuck."

Together, they moved quickly, shifting their grips. Jake bent to retrieve his pants, tugging them up with one arm while the other held you carefully to his chest. Your body sagged against him, boneless but trusting, your cheek pressed to the slick skin of his shoulder. "I've got her," Jake said quietly.

Jay adjusted himself quickly, stepping in to help. His hands cupped your thighs, his gaze scanning your face. "We need to get her cleaned up. Somewhere soft."

"Yeah," Jake agreed, his hand smoothing the back of your hair.

You couldn't speak—not really. You were too far gone, too worn down in the sweetest, most bone-deep way.

But you felt them. You felt the tissue as they wiped between your legs, cleaning their combined mess from your trembling thighs. Another passed over your face, cool and damp, brushing away the sticky sheen of sweat and the tears you didn't remember shedding. Fingers were tender as they tucked your hair back, smoothing it down, and you sighed softly into the sensation.

Jake carried you effortlessly, holding you to his chest. You felt Jay beside you, one hand steadying your legs as they moved together. Their voices were hushed now, murmurs exchanged just beyond your hearing, their steps soft against the tile.

When the door opened, the shift in air hit instantly—cool and dry from the hallway's air conditioning, raising goosebumps across your flushed skin.

You managed one last, drowsy breath as the cool air washed over you. Then your eyelids dropped.

You stirred slowly, the first thing you felt was warmth. A soft bed cradled your body, the sheets cool against your bare skin, but it was the sensation wrapped around your waist that anchored you. The scent pressing against your back was just as recognizable—clean sweat, faint cologne, and something uniquely him.

You blinked slowly, your lashes fluttering against your cheeks before you opened your eyes fully.

Your head was nestled into the crook of someone’s neck. His skin was warm beneath your cheek, his heartbeat a steady thrum beneath your ear. You shifted slightly, body still sore and heavy, and looked up.

Jake was watching you, eyes soft. He rubbed slow circles against your side with the pad of his thumb, his other hand still resting gently across your waist, holding you close.

“Hi,” he whispered. 

You managed a small, sleepy smile. “Hi. How long was I out?” you asked, blinking again to clear the haze still lingering behind your eyes.

Jake exhaled through his nose, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “About an hour,” he murmured. 

Your brows knit faintly, and he brushed a thumb along your temple. “Don’t worry,” he added with a soft smile. “We covered for you. Told them you fainted because of the heat—overexerted, nothing serious.”

You let out a quiet laugh, the sound dry in your throat. “Technically not a lie…”

Jake’s grin widened just slightly, a playful glint flickering behind the softness in his eyes. “Mm. They don’t need the exact details.”

You gave a breath of a laugh, but it faded quickly as your gaze lingered on his face—the gentle curve of his smile, the creases near his eyes, the way he was watching you so closely.

 “Jake…” your voice came out small.

He stilled, but his thumb never stopped moving on your side. “Yeah?”

You hesitated, the flood of everything you’d been trying to suppress surged up your throat. You swallowed it down once, then let it rise.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “For avoiding you. For running off. For shutting down instead of just…” You trailed off, sighing as your brows pulled together. “I was scared.”

Jake’s lips parted slightly, his grip on you tightening for a moment before he pulled you in closer, pressing your cheek against his chest. You felt the beat of his heart against your skin.

“I didn’t know what to do with what I was feeling,” you continued. "I started… caring. And that made everything messy. Because you and Jay—you’re already whole. You don’t need someone like me getting in the middle of that.”

Jake was silent, listening, his hand still tracing soft patterns into your skin.

“And I kept thinking…” You swallowed hard. “If I let myself fall deeper, I’ll only be the one who ends up hurt. Like I’d ruin what you both already have. That I didn’t deserve it, any of it.”

He finally spoke, his voice low. “Why didn’t you just tell us that?”

“I didn’t know how,” you admitted. “And then when I saw the two of you together, being so perfect—it made me realize how small my place in this is. Or… was.”

Jake shook his head, exhaling as he tilted your face up gently with his fingers. “You think we’re perfect?” he said, a sad sort of smile curling at the corners of his lips. “We’re not. We’ve made mistakes. We didn’t talk about a lot of things. But one thing we were sure of?” His thumb brushed across your cheekbone. “We both want you.”

Jake's thumbs caressed the apples of your cheeks, his gaze never leaving yours. His breath was warm as he leaned his forehead against yours, eyes closing briefly. “I’m sorry we didn’t make it clearer,” he whispered. “We thought we were showing you—through touch, through time, through every little thing we did. But we never said it. And maybe that’s where we messed up.”

You blinked back the heat behind your eyes, your throat tightening. Jake’s fingers brushed under your jaw, coaxing you to look at him again.

“We want you,” he said, “In every way. Not just in our bed. Not just when it’s convenient. We want you in our life. You’ve already made space in it—you didn’t ruin anything.”

You let out a shaky breath, and before you could stop yourself, you pressed your face into the crook of his neck again, seeking warmth, shelter, reassurance. His arms wrapped tighter around you.

“And Jay?” you asked quietly, voice muffled against his skin.

Jake chuckled softly, the sound a little choked. “Jay’s downstairs trying to pretend he’s not pacing. He’s been wanting to talk to you too. But I asked him to give me this moment first.” He pulled back just enough to brush your hair from your face. “You mean more to him than you think.” 

The soft knock came, Jake didn’t move right away, just held your gaze, giving you a choice without saying a word. When you gave the smallest nod, he leaned over and called out gently, “It’s okay. Come in.”

The door cracked open, and Jay stepped inside. His eyes immediately found yours, and the moment they did, the edge in his posture melted. He wasn’t guarded like he usually was.

“You’re awake,” he said softly, stepping closer.

Jake shifted slightly to make space on the bed, and Jay took it without question. He sat on the edge first, then leaned in beside you, bracing one hand on the mattress near your hip.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. “Sore,” you said, voice raspy with sleep. “Like I got hit by a very… affectionate truck.”

That pulled a laugh from both of them. Jake’s body vibrated behind you with the sound, and Jay let out a quiet chuckle as he rubbed a hand gently over your knee, his thumb brushing just above where the blanket had slipped.

“Sorry,” Jay murmured, though the smirk was playing at his mouth now. “Not sorry.”

You rolled your eyes but leaned into him when he bent down and pressed a kiss to your temple. His lips lingered there for a beat longer than expected. When he pulled back, he looked more serious. 

“No more running,” he said quietly, “I’m not great with… talking. Feelings. All that shit.” He scratched the back of his neck, eyes flicking down briefly before returning to yours. “But I want this. I want you."

Jake let out a quiet huff behind you, shifting closer as he nuzzled the back of your shoulder. “He’s always like that,” he whispered, “I was the one who confessed first. Initiated the first kiss. First sex.”

Jay’s head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. “You asshole,” he muttered.

“You blushed when I touched your wrist,” Jake added, grinning now.

“I was cold,” Jay shot back. You laughed then soft, but real—and both of them stilled like they’d been waiting for the sound. Jake’s smile softened, and Jay, still glaring at his boyfriend.

Jake grinned wider. “He literally couldn’t make eye contact for twenty-four hours after we slept together the first time.”

“I hate you,” Jay muttered, but he was already reaching for you again, hand slipping beneath the blanket to rest on your stomach, drawing you back toward him as he curled in behind.

“You don’t,” Jake replied, smirking as he met your gaze. “He just never knows how to say the nice shit.”

“I will push you off this bed,” Jay warned to keep Jake from opening his mouth again. “Then we’ll fall together,” Jake countered smoothly, wrapping an arm tighter around your waist.

You sank into their warmth, nestled between their bodies. You turned your face slightly, resting your cheek against Jay’s collarbone while one of your hands found Jake’s under the blanket.

For a long, comforting moment, no one spoke. Then, quietly, Jay’s voice rumbled near your ear. “Were we too rough earlier?”

You shook your head without hesitation, cheek still pressed to his collarbone. “No. I needed it,” you murmured, honest and calm. “It pushed me out of my head. That’s what I needed.”

Jake’s hand tightened slightly around yours, and he smiled softly. “So… are we okay now?”

You turned your head toward him, lips curving with amusement. “That depends,” you said. “Was that makeup sex?”

Jake raised a brow, mouth twitching. “Wait—that wasn’t?”

Jay snorted behind you. “If that was just a warm-up, I’m scared to know what the actual makeup sex is supposed to look like.”

You laughed, low and a little breathless, the sound making both of them smile wider.

“I guess we’ll have to do it again,” Jake said, voice dropping just enough to make the tease linger. “Y’know. For clarity.”

It didn’t take long. Clothes were shed, tossed carelessly across the floor—shirts half-inside out, underwear tangled near the foot of the bed. You were on your back with Jake above you, his mouth on yours, his tongue moving with a tenderness that made your body ache all over again.

Then Jay moved. You barely had time to gasp before his hand curled into Jake’s hair, tugging sharply. Jake groaned into your mouth, the kiss breaking as Jay pulled him back.

“Not so fast,” Jay said, “You had your turn.”

He dragged Jake down the length of the bed, making him twist and arch, until Jake’s head was between your thighs, his back curved beautifully under Jay’s grip. Jake didn’t resist—he melted into the position, groaning as he inhaled the scent of you, mouth finding your cunt.

You gasped, your legs parting without thought. The sting from earlier still lingered, but it was chased by the familiar, glorious heat of Jake’s mouth. He licked into you slowly at first, tongue stroking over your clit.

Your back arched as he moaned against your folds, his face buried deeper. “F-fuck, Jake—” you whimpered, fingers tangling in his hair, hips twitching against his face.

Jay watched from behind him, one hand stroking down Jake’s spine, the other trailing lower. You didn’t see the moment he slipped his fingers between Jake’s cheeks, but you felt the way Jake moaned louder against your cunt, hips jerking slightly as Jay began working him open.

“Want to see you fuck him,” you breathed, voice cracked with need. “Please. I want to watch.”

Jake whimpered into your pussy, tongue fucking you deeper in response. Jay’s eyes lifted to yours. His fingers were slowly pushing into Jake. “She wants a show,” he said, leaning in to kiss Jake’s neck. “You gonna be good for her?”

Jake moaned again, his voice muffled by your cunt, and you tightened your grip in his hair, nails dragging across his scalp.

Jay’s hand slid away briefly, and you heard the soft click of the drawer beside the bed opening. A moment later, the quiet sound of a bottle opening filled the space. Cool lube met skin, and Jay didn’t hesitate—he returned to Jake’s body with a steady hand, working the slick between his cheeks.

Jake whimpered again, body shuddering beneath both of you. Jay kept stretching him, fingers moving in slow, deep circles, curling and scissoring in a rhythm that made Jake pant harder against your pussy. His mouth never stopped licking, sucking, groaning into your folds with more desperation the more he was opened up.

You looked down and nearly lost your breath at the sight: Jake’s flushed face buried between your legs, his lips wet and glistening, while Jay knelt behind him, eyes dark, and focused as his fingers slick, sliding in and out of Jake’s ass with increasing ease.

Jake was trembling now, his thighs twitched against the sheets, and you could hear the breathless hitch in his throat each time Jay’s fingers pressed just right inside him.

“She’s gonna see how good you take it." Jake moaned hard against your clit, and you cried out—your hips bucking into his face. He didn’t stop. If anything, he devoured you harder, tongue working you open.

Jay leaned forward, pressing a kiss between Jake’s shoulder blades. “You ready for me, sweetheart?”

Jake’s reply was only a ragged whine, and it made your pulse spike.

“Please,” you said softly, the only voice in the room not breaking. Jay’s eyes flicked to yours, gaze locking for one searing moment. Then he leaned forward, hand steady on Jake’s lower back, and began to push in.

Jake let out a strangled groan against your cunt, his tongue faltering for a heartbeat before diving back in with renewed force. Your legs tightened around his head, your hips rising helplessly into his mouth.

“Good boy,” Jay breathed, voice thick as he slid deeper. “Keep eating her.”

Jake moaned again, the vibration pulsing through your clit as Jay’s cock pressed deeper inside him. You could feel Jake struggling to hold rhythm, overwhelmed by the dual sensations—his mouth locked to your cunt while Jay slowly filled him from behind.

Jake’s fingers were clutching your hips, knuckles pale, his lips slick with your arousal as he flicked his tongue over your clit again and again—desperate, hungry, obedient. Behind him, Jay moved with a slow, grinding pace, hips rolling forward, burying himself inch by inch into Jake’s tight, slicked hole.

“Shit,” Jay groaned, head dropping for a second as his hands gripped Jake’s waist.

Jake whined against you, hips pushing back to meet Jay’s thrusts even as his mouth stayed locked on you, his tongue circling your clit in dizzying spirals. You could feel him moaning again and again.

Your hand threaded deeper into Jake’s hair, pulling tight, guiding his mouth where you needed him as your hips rolled shamelessly against his face. His moans were frantic now, high-pitched, especially when Jay snapped his hips forward harder—burying himself to the hilt. 

His tongue was relentless, and the pressure was building again in your core, fast and burning, pulled taut by every flick of his mouth, every grind of Jay’s cock rocking through him from behind.

You were right on the edge—suspended between pleasure and the raw thrill of watching them together.

Jay’s rhythm grew rougher, his groans more ragged. One hand slipped from Jake’s hip to curl around his waist, holding him in place, deepening every thrust. The wet slap of skin filled the room, matched by the obscene, eager sounds of Jake’s mouth on your cunt.

Your back arched. Your breath hitched. “I’m—fuck—Jake!” you cried, your orgasm tearing through you. 

Jake moaned loud and deep into you as you came, your body spasming under his tongue, your legs clamping around his head as your hands tangled tight in his hair. You rode it out on his mouth, grinding into him, the pressure of Jay’s thrusts making Jake groan right through your high, pushing you even further.

Your body melted into the sheets, chest heaving, but your eyes stayed locked on the scene unraveling in front of you.

Jay didn’t relent. He adjusted his grip, arms slipping under Jake’s chest to haul him higher, fucking into him harder from behind with a pace that was nothing short of brutal. His skin slapped against Jake’s ass with wet, relentless rhythm, and Jake took it beautifully—his moans muffled, body twitching with every deep thrust.

You watched them, your lips parted, breath shallow. Both their faces were flushed and wild, lost in each other. And instead of jealousy, the sight only fed the fire already burning in your gut. The ache that never really went away around them now pulsed hotter, deeper.

Jake’s voice broke as he moaned loud enough to echo through the room. “Jay, baby—oh fuck!”

Jay reached up, tangled a fist in Jake’s hair, and yanked him back just enough to crush their mouths together. The kiss was messy, desperate, teeth clashing, tongues sliding, both of them breathing into each other’s mouths.

The noise of it made you whine. You couldn’t stay still. You crawled forward on shaky limbs, eyes locked on Jake’s cock, thick and flushed and bouncing wildly with every one of Jay’s thrusts.

Your hand wrapped around it in one slow, sure stroke, and Jake shouted into Jay’s mouth. Jay pulled back just slightly, his eyes flicking down to see your hand wrapped tightly around Jake’s length, pumping him in time with the rhythm of their bodies.

Jake’s head fell back, hips jerking forward into your touch, his stomach tight and trembling. His mouth opened in a silent gasp, then a broken moan when you dragged your thumb over his leaking tip, smearing the precum down his shaft.

“Fuck,” he choked, voice shaking. “That—God, that feels so good.”

Jay groaned behind him, his rhythm stuttering just for a second at the sight in front of him. His gaze dropped to where your fingers wrapped around Jake’s cock—your nails catching the light, long and perfectly shaped, moving over him in steady, merciless pumps.

He hissed through his teeth, fucking into Jake harder. Jake moaned again, louder this time, his whole body pushing back into Jay while thrusting forward into your hand. His eyes fluttered open, hazy and wild as they met yours, lips parted.

Jay’s voice cut. “Lay down, baby.”

You blinked, heart pounding. You released Jake’s cock with one last stroke, watching his hips twitch at the loss, and moved backward on the bed without a word. You lay back across the pillows, your legs parting instinctively as you settled into the space, your body already pulsing in anticipation.

Jay pulled out of Jake with a slick, wet sound, his hand curling around Jake’s hip to steady him. “Come on,” he said, gaze flicking to Jake, then to you. “Enter that pussy and ride my dick.”

Jake didn’t wait. He crawled over you immediately, his hands braced on either side of your shoulders, and with one fluid motion, he lined himself up and sank into you.

You gasped, hands flying to his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as the stretch hit you hard all over again. Your walls were still sensitive, still twitching from your last orgasm, and now he was filling you again.

Behind him, Jay didn’t waste time. He adjusted, positioned himself, and with one slow, deliberate push, slid back into Jake’s ass.

"Ahhh!" Jake’s whole body jolted. A strangled sound caught in his throat, mouth crashing into yours in a kiss that was sloppy, all tongue and open breath. His hips began to move almost immediately, short shallow thrusts between your legs while Jay drove into him from behind.

“F-fuck,” Jake moaned into your mouth, pulling back only to drop his lips to your throat. He bit down hard—just enough to make you cry out—then dragged his mouth lower, tongue hot on your skin as he kissed, licked, and bit his way down to your collarbone.

Your fingers clutched at his back, and every time he thrust forward into you, it was followed by the shock of Jay’s cock driving him forward again—his motion caught between both your bodies.

Jake was trembling, moaning louder than ever, his rhythm completely overtaken by Jay’s pace. Every thrust from behind forced him deeper into you, the sensation nearly too much. His moans spilled against your throat, turning into helpless gasps as his cock slid in and out of your soaked cunt.

His voice broke in short, frantic cries. “Jay! Jay—please, baby, oh God—”

His mouth returned to your neck, teeth scraping the skin before he latched on, biting down with desperate force. The sharp sting drew a gasp from you, the pain blooming into pleasure just as Jake’s hips jolted forward again, burying himself to the base.

He held there for a moment—frozen, panting, his breath hot against your skin. His back was slick with sweat beneath your palms, muscles twitching under your touch.

Then he pulled back, just enough for you to see his face. His lips parted, breath shaky and shallow. His eyes were unfocused, lashes wet, the flush across his cheeks deep and burning. He looked wrecked, and completely beautiful—mouth closed now.

You clenched around him involuntarily. “You’re so beautiful,” you whispered, voice trembling with emotion. “So fucked-out.”

Your hips rose instinctively, pushing up into him, your body begging for more, for all of it.

Jake let out a shuddering groan. He rolled his hips again, slow and deep, and the way you took him made him press his forehead to yours.

Behind him, Jay didn’t slow. He was pounding into him with brutal control, groaning with every thrust, his grip locked tight around Jake’s hips to keep him in place. You could feel each stroke reverberate through Jake's body, transferring into yours.

“F-Feels so good—ahh, fuck—feel so good!” Jake cried out, voice cracking, mouth open in a moan that bordered on a sob.

You reached up with a shaky hand, brushing the damp strands of hair from his face, your thumb stroking gently along his cheekbone. He leaned into the touch, lips trembling, eyes half-lidded and glassy.

Your body clenched again, the pressure cresting high, unbearable and exquisite.

“I’m gonna cum,” you gasped, hips lifting to meet his every desperate thrust. “Jake—cum with me, please—ahh—now!”

Jake’s breath hitched, his hips faltered before he slammed into you one final time, burying himself deep. His entire body seized, a loud, gasping moan torn from his chest as he came hard, cock pulsing inside you with wave after wave of heat.

You fell with him, your orgasm ripped through you, stealing the breath from your lungs as your cunt clenched around him, milking every drop of his release. Your cry echoed into his mouth as he kissed you again.

“Fuck—both of you are so hot—God—”

Jay’s pace grew rougher, deeper, his restraint unraveling with every breathless sound spilling from Jake’s lips, every clench of your cunt around Jake’s cock. He watched you both, panting, his hands gripping Jake’s hips so tightly his knuckles had gone pale.

“Fucking hell,” Jay growled. Jake moaned again, overstimulated and soft, his forehead still resting against yours as Jay buried himself one last time with a low groan, 

You felt it in Jake’s shudder, the way his breath stilled as Jay’s cock throbbed deep inside him. The sound Jay made as he emptied himself, his body pressing tight to Jake’s back.

Jay was the first to exhale, his lips ghosting over the back of Jake’s neck as he slowly eased out. Jake let out a soft whimper, his body twitching from the sensitivity, and you wrapped your arms tighter around him, one hand sliding over his spine.

Jake collapsed onto you gently, his full weight cushioned by your body, his cheek pressed to your shoulder as he panted, still flushed and wet with heat. You stroked his hair, letting your fingers card slowly through the damp strands.

Jay shifted beside you, climbing up the bed on unsteady arms before dropping down on your other side. His chest was heaving, he wrapped one arm around your waist, hand splayed across your stomach, fingers brushing softly against your skin.

Jake tilted his face up to look at you. “You okay?” he whispered, voice hoarse.

You nodded, stroking his cheek. “Yeah,” you breathed. “Better than okay.”

Jake gave a breathless laugh, burying his face briefly into the crook of your neck. “Fuck,” he groaned, still catching his breath. “That was the most delicious orgasm I’ve ever had."

You chuckled, breath hitching a little as you threaded your fingers into his hair again.

Jay leaned in from your other side, his body pressing close, his mouth trailing a soft kiss along your shoulder before brushing Jake’s temple. His arm wrapped around the both of you, pulling you tighter into the warmth of him. Your legs tangled instinctively, bodies nestled under the sheets that now clung to the lingering heat of sex and skin.

None of you spoke for a moment, the silence stretching comfortably between heartbeats and shallow breaths.

Then you glanced between them, your voice still breathless. “So…” you murmured, a small smile pulling at your lips. “Does this mean I have two boyfriends now?”

Jake’s head popped up slightly, a crooked grin forming. “Only if you’re okay being heavily spoiled and never allowed to escape.”

Jay made a quiet sound of amusement beside you, his thumb brushing a lazy line along your hip. “We’re clingy,” he said, voice low, eyes half-lidded but sincere. “Terrible at sharing. Lucky for us, we just want the same person.”

You laughed, letting yourself melt back into the weight of them, your body still pulsing with quiet aftershocks and warmth. “I think I can live with that,” you said softly, eyes fluttering closed as their hands continued to drift gently over your skin.

And then you suddenly remember something. Your eyes snapped open as panic surged through your chest.

“Shit—Sunoo!”

You shot up so fast that the blanket fell off your chest and Jake practically flinched, startled, his sleepy post-orgasm daze completely shattered. Jay blinked at you from behind, frowning in confusion. Then he realizes what you meant.

“Sunoo!!!”

Jake’s voice echoed across the grassy field the next day, dramatically over-the-top as he broke into a slow-motion sprint—arms wide, expression exaggerated with mock desperation.

You couldn’t help but laugh under your breath, trailing behind him with your fingers laced through Jay’s. Sunoo, on the other hand, stood perfectly still ahead, arms crossed, expression locked in a glare.

Just as Jake went in for a hug, Sunoo’s palm came up and smacked him square across the face—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to jolt the dramatics right out of him. Jake stumbled back, blinking.

“You didn’t text, you didn’t call, and my best friend just disappeared with you two?” Sunoo snapped, pointing an accusing finger toward you and Jay. 

You smiled awkwardly, offering a sheepish little wave behind Jake’s shoulder.

“She fainted!” Jake explained, hands flying up. “We were busy assisting her. Medical-grade care. You should be grateful your best friend fell into the right hands.”

Sunoo’s eyebrow arched so high. His gaze slowly dropped to your neck… and then narrowed. “Yeah, right,” he said dryly, arms crossing again. “That why she’s covered in poorly hidden hickeys?”

Jake blinked, he slowly reached out and bit his own finger, eyes wide as he turned to stare at you. “Babe,” he whispered. “You said you’d cover those.”

You flushed, dragging the collar of your shirt higher with a quick tug. “I did! Jay distracted me!”

Sunoo rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Dodgeball’s starting now—don’t actually faint this time.”

Your fingers gently slipped away from Jay’s, reaching out to Sunoo instead. You slid your arm through his as you began walking beside him, your shoulder brushing his. He let you lean into him without hesitation.

“I assume the three of you are okay now,” Sunoo said after a pause, voice lighter, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.

You leaned your head against his shoulder. “I’m still scared,” you admitted. “But… as long as I’m with them, I think I’ll be fine.”

Sunoo gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “Yeah, well. You’ve got me at your back too.”

Jake popped up beside Sunoo, slinging an arm over his shoulder with a wide grin, pressing in close to you on the other side. Jay followed right behind, falling into step beside you with that calm, quiet presence that always made you feel anchored.

“So,” Jake said casually, stretching his arms above his head before locking them behind his neck. “What do you guys want to eat later? Because I’m seriously craving some Samyang Buldak noodles.”

Sunoo stared at him, blinking once. Then, flatly: “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jake blinked back, innocent. “What?”

“It’s thirty-four degrees,” Sunoo said, gesturing wildly to the sky like the sun itself was his witness. “And your dumbass is out here craving spicy death noodles? Are you okay? Do we need to check for brain damage?”

"Well, I love spicy!" Jake scoffed, throwing his hands up. 

Their voices quickly dissolved into muffled bickering again—Jake insisting it was about heat and thrill, Sunoo arguing that eating molten fire under the sun was a cry for help.

Jay exhaled a quiet laugh beside you, his fingers brushing against yours. You felt the heat of it—not from the sun, not from the air, but from them.

From all of this. And as you watched your best friend and your boyfriend argue, with Jay steady at your side and your pulse still echoing from the day before, you couldn’t help the smile curling at your lips.

Maybe Jake was right. 

Maybe a little spicy-ness was exactly what made life interesting.

[wonnienyang]

Between lust and revenge

*pairing: Leader alpha Heeseung x omega Girl

*trope: Forbidden love/Enemies to lovers

*synopsis: In an exclusive academy where alphas, omegas and betas coexist, Y/n, a sweet and pretty omega, is forced to marry Jiwon, an omega who does not love and treats her with contempt. But when she finds herself trapped in a fate she has not chosen, the only way out seems to be Heeseung, an alpha tormented by revenge for his brother’s death, caused by the family of Y/n. In despair, Y/n offers herself to Heeseung, asking him to knot her to escape a loveless marriage and the tyranny of her future husband. Despite his resentment towards his family, Heeseung accepts the proposal, but with one condition: he will never love her. As the bond between the two becomes more and more intense and dangerous, Y/n finds herself fighting not only for her own freedom, but also for a love that seems impossible.

*tags: Heeseung is the leader of his 6 younger brothers and whole alpha of the new generation, at first he is really cold and throws darts to Y/n, Y/n is a sweet omega but with a nice character, preliminaries, a lot of kisses, sucking, masturbation, fingering, unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) knotting,filling, pet names (princess,little omega,slut) (Hee,alpha)

12.7k (♥️)

(English is not my native language)

The golden lights of the sunset filtered through the wide glass windows of the greenhouse, dancing among the climbing plants and blooming flowers that filled the air with sweet notes of jasmine and mint. The air was warm, scented with spring and anticipation. You stood there, behind a half-open glass door, your heartbeat echoing through your temples. On the other side of the greenhouse, among the shadows of the foliage, he was there. The boy with amber eyes who had never spared you a long look, but whose mere gaze on yours could make your knees tremble. Heeseung. Alpha. Damnably untouchable. And yet, there you were, spying on him as if just seeing him could be enough to make you breathe.

Your fiery red dress clung to your curves with elegance, the light silk swaying with every breath as your heels hesitated on the stone floor. Your hair, smooth as silk, slipped over your shoulders, and your lips, tinged with a soft red, trembled with unspoken thoughts. The heart-shaped necklace your mother had given you seemed to glow with its own light as if reminding you where you came from. But the ring… the ring that Jiwon had ordered for you, that one you didn’t wear. You didn’t want it. Only your bracelets, colorful and mismatched, truly spoke of who you were: a girl who dreamed of freedom, carrying with her fragments of every summer, every laugh, every escape.

"I can’t do it… I can’t marry him. Not Jiwon, that damn omega who never respected me, never respected my family’s name, and would have locked me in a cage as if I were an animal."

Your fingers clenched the edge of the door. Your heart was pounding, too loudly. Not because of the imminent wedding, but because of the tall, lean figure immersed among the greenhouse plants. Heeseung looked like a noble, deadly shadow, and yet there was something in him that gave you relief. Perhaps because, despite the resentment he held against your family, he had never looked at you as an object. In truth, he had hardly ever looked at you, but when he did… he saw your soul.

"He hates me. I know. But he's the only alpha who could break this curse. The only one strong enough to mark me. The only one who could not be controlled by Jiwon or my father."

You, a gentle omega, delicate, raised to smile, to not disturb, to say thank you, and remain composed. Your aura was faint, like the scent of lavender on a summer evening. People said your presence calmed the air, that your gaze brought peace. But they had no idea of the fire that smoldered within your heart. Of how your soul screamed every time Jiwon touched you with those predatory eyes.

Heeseung was dangerous, with fire and poison and silence. But he didn’t scare you. Because beneath his cold mask, you felt something. As if he, too, was waiting for a way to save himself.

"I wasn’t born to be a bride. Not for an omega like him. If only Heeseung would touch me... if only he would agree to bind himself to me... I could break it all."

The black tuxedo clung to his broad shoulders with almost cruel precision. The seams traced his form as if they had been stitched directly onto his skin, and the high collar barely revealed a vein that pulsed faintly on his neck. Heeseung stood with his back to you, still, like a statue of black marble planted among the shadows of the greenhouse. He seemed part of the landscape, as though nature itself had embraced him as a sovereign.

You bit your lower lip. A nervous gesture, but also one filled with awareness.

Did he hate me? Probably.

If someone from my family had killed one of my brothers, I would have hated to death anyone who bore that blood too.

Your fingers trembled as they brushed against the iron handle of the glass door. You lowered it carefully, and a faint click broke the silence, heavy with humidity and suspended petals. You stepped inside. No sound from him. Not even a breath. Only your gentle aura, warm and light like a caress in the dark, making its way into his realm. The scent of your skin—vanilla and wild honey—spread slowly throughout the greenhouse.

Then, after a few seconds, his voice.

That voice.

Low. Rich with a dangerous echo. A voice you had only heard during shared lessons, and even then, it made the hairs on your neck stand on end.

“A scent so sweet for an omega… Do you come into my territory? What have I done to deserve the presence of a single omega… unprotected… and, by the way, not even accompanied by anyone?” The air changed around him. As if he had pulled the strings of the world itself with those words. You lifted your gaze slowly. Your wide, shining eyes met his back, still turned. It felt like you were looking at a wall you could never scale. Heeseung was a true alpha. Not just any alpha. His aura was like a silent storm: strong, regal, impenetrable. He could pick up every single scent, every emotion, every nuance of your essence. And you were there, trembling, with your innocent air and humble gaze. A perfect prey. A gentle omega, with an aura soft as a nest of feathers, but a heart full of storms. With a nervous touch on your arms, you brushed against the bracelets you’d worn since childhood. They were your colorful armor. Light memories in a world that now seemed to crush you. You squeezed them tight. Then, with a clear voice, but with a thread of hesitation, you said: “I need your help, Heeseung.” His shoulders stiffened just slightly. Nothing visible to the untrained eye, but you felt it. He felt that voice. Sweet. Polite. Humble. But the same voice he hated with all his being. The voice of the daughter of the man who had taken his brother from him, the voice of enemy blood. Slowly, he turned around, and his gaze was an abyss of amber. Predator’s eyes. Contained coldness, the tuxedo jacket barely moving with his motion, his steps slow, controlled. When his eyes met yours, they didn’t see a threat. They saw a harmless creature. They saw prey, and you, there in your red dress, looked almost out of place, like a delicate flower in the middle of a fire.

What were you doing there? The daughter of the man who killed his brother, a sweet omega who, instead of kneeling to ask for forgiveness, dared to ask for help. From him.

You fiddled with your bracelets, making the beads you had collected over the years softly jingle as if their sound could calm you. But it didn’t work. Not with him in front of you. Not with those eyes. You observed him. Red hair, as if every strand had been kissed by fire. It fell messily over his forehead, but perfectly so. Amber eyes were so intense they seemed to bore into you. And yet… they didn’t scare you. No. They seemed like doe’s eyes, deep, glossy… melancholic. His face was sculpted with almost cruel precision: straight nose, full lips, a jawline that seemed carved by a tired god. His alpha frame made him imposing, much taller than you—and you, at barely 1.70 cm, felt like a feather before a storm. You took a deep breath, then spoke with a calm but sincere voice: “I know you hate me. And I swear… I hate myself too for what my father did to your brother. I don’t forgive him, not even I. But I… I am here to offer you a deal. A revenge you could use against him. Against the entire omega lineage and—” “NO.” His roar hit you like a sudden gust of wind. Sharp. Clear. Inviolable. He turned away as if you were nothing. As if your heart, right there on the table, wasn’t worthy of even a glance. He returned to his herbs, his hands mixing lavender and calendula in a black mortar with precision. The scent of flowers and rare plants filled the greenhouse, and yet you only smelled the rejection in the air. You sighed softly. A part of you wanted to leave, to cry in silence like a well-behaved omega, but the other part… the part that was tired of being commanded… took a step forward. You entered deeper into the wolf’s den. You approached his table and, with a sweet but firm voice, pointed at what he was doing. “You’re mixing lavender to soothe wounds… you’re adding arnica root. It’s for bites. To heal a wounded alpha… or a victim of an attack. Who are you trying to heal, Heeseung?” Finally, he lifted his gaze and he did it with a growl. “Out. Not another word from you. Not in my territory.” His voice was sharp, deep, filled with contained venom. But you…you didn’t move. Your eyes remained locked on his, and your fingers lightly rested on the edge of the table, between his herbs and his silence. “I’m not leaving.” You said, and a heady silence fell, where the only sounds were the distant trickle of a stream and the rustle of animals.

Heeseung stared at you, his aura growing dense, almost suffocating. The king of alphas was beginning to get irritated. Yet… beneath his coldness, something shifted. A tiny crack. A curiosity he didn't want to admit. "You're a problem, you know that?" His voice was as hard as stone. But his eyes… they were studying you. You, however, barely smiled. With sweetness, a smile that wasn't a provocation… it was a gentle challenge. It was that quiet strength only an omega like you could possess. "And you're so good at solving problems. Maybe… I could be your favorite." Heeseung's gaze darkened. But he didn’t speak. His fingers continued to mix the herbs, but the movements were no longer as confident as before. He was disturbed. Annoyed. Intrigued, and you knew it. Heeseung observed you. Not with the distracted look of someone who notices something pretty, but with the cold, calculating gaze of an alpha who scrutinizes, evaluates… and hates himself for what’s stirring inside him. He didn’t want to admit it, not even to himself. But you were beautiful: one of those rare omegas, born to make even the most stable alphas tremble. He would have wanted to — with his entire body, but not his mind — nurture you, tame you, mark you, bind you to him with the force of an eternal bond, sink every sign of his power into you. And yes… impregnate you, but he couldn’t. He shouldn’t. He knew how delicate the balance between omega and alpha was, how few couples truly worked, how easy it was to ruin a life just to satisfy an impulse. And then… you were the daughter of his enemy. Yet, it wasn’t fear he saw trembling in your fingers, it was awareness. A fear all your own. Not for him… but for what you were about to ask.

“You have two minutes,” he said abruptly, his tone cold but his gaze lit by something he couldn’t extinguish. “And then I want you out of here.” A smile appeared on your face. You clapped your hands softly, like a child who had just been permitted to enter an enchanted forest. He raised an eyebrow, irritated. “You’ve already lost five seconds, now it’s one fifty-five.” You sighed softly, but the smile didn’t completely fade. With a gentle yet firm voice, you spoke. “I don’t want to marry Jiwon. I don’t love him. I don’t respect him. And I already know what awaits me if I become his: a house, a bed, and a future made of nothing but pregnancies and silences. I want to be bound, yes, but I also want the freedom to choose, to study, and to live my life. And the only one strong enough to protect me… the only one Jiwon could never challenge… is you, Lee Heeseung.” He didn’t say anything. You swallowed, your heart racing but your gaze clear. “I know you hate me. And that’s fine. But you can use this resentment, this anger inside you… you can use it against my father. Against my bloodline. You can take revenge… with me.” An incredible silence fell over the greenhouse, the herbs seemed to hold their breath. Heeseung was shocked, staring at you with those amber eyes wide open, his jaw clenched. Then he burst out laughing, but it wasn’t a real laugh. It was a brief, incredulous explosion. “You’re crazy.” You turned slightly, your face serious yet soft, your tone sweet… but sincere. “No, I’m dead serious.”

He looked at you as if trying to find a crack in your apparent calm. But there was none. And that’s what truly unsettled him. “You want to offer me your body… your virginity… as a pact for revenge? Is that what you’re proposing? To be branded by me, tied, used… so that you don’t end up in Jiwon’s hands?” You didn’t look away. “In a sense, yes, and you’re the only way to do it, no alpha has your power, and if I’m tied to you, your scent and your fragrance will be all over my body and no male will approach me, only you, Heeseung.” Heeseung’s lips curled into a half-cynical smile. His eyes narrowed, dangerous. “Too bad I’ve never been the type to save princesses.” He took a step toward you, slow and ethereal. “Especially those who carry the blood of my worst enemy.” You lowered your gaze. Your fingers tightened around your bracelets as if they could save you from yourself. “The only one who can save me… is you,” you whispered. “You can take revenge… on your brother… by tying me to you.” But you didn’t manage to finish. His voice cut you off, sharp like a slap: “Pathetic.” You froze. A silent tear slipped down your cheek slowly. It slid along your face like an unsaid confession. Your omega aura blossomed, finally free, like a sweet and fragile scent that expanded in the room. You felt it, but he thought it much more. It was soft, welcoming, instinctively submissive but with a core of dignity impossible to extinguish. “You’re right…” you whispered, your voice low. “The two minutes are over.”

You turned slowly. And walked away, trying not to give in to the shame, or the pain, but then something happened. “Stop.” His voice was an order. A command, and you… you stopped. Not out of fear. Not because you wanted to. But because something in your omega nature forced you to obey. Omegas live to follow. To feel they belong. And with that voice… your body reacted before your mind. You turned slowly. “You’re pathetic, but also… brave.” He took a few steps toward you, his eyes still burning with distrust, but also something else. Something that tightened his chest. “No one has ever faced me like this. No one. Least of all an omega.” He stopped in front of you, his body just inches away. His warmth was overwhelming, and his eyes, now darker, locked onto yours. “Do you know what happens to an omega… when they’re tied by an alpha?” You swallowed. Your legs trembled. But you didn’t look away. “Yes,” you murmured. “Tell me.” You swallowed again, and with an uncertain but sincere voice, you said: “When an alpha ties an omega, his knot swells inside her… locking in for minutes, sometimes even half an hour. During that time… the omega loses complete control.” You said, looking at him with desperate eyes. “The body opens, surrenders. The scent changes. The orgasm is violent… uncontrollable. The bond forms. And… the omega can get pregnant at the first attempt if the alpha desires. But if the omega isn’t ready… if she’s afraid… her body may react badly. The pain can become too much and yes… in extreme cases… she could die.” The silence that followed was different from all the ones before. Heeseung stared at you as if you were saying the most absurd thing… and at the same time, the truest. “And despite all of that… you want to risk being tied by me?” “Yes.” you said, sure of your words.

Heeseung was stunned. For the first time in years, he didn't know what to do. Your words echoed in his ears, so sweet and desperate that they made him clench his fists. What would his brothers say? Him. Lee Heeseung. The most respected alpha at the Academy. Him, tying an omega. Not just any omega. But the daughter of the man who had wiped out his family. "If I bind you," he said quietly, with a hard voice, "you'll be mine forever, there’s no turning back. The bond will be eternal. Your body, your soul… everything will belong to me." You nodded, the tears threatening to fall, but with your eyes shining. "I know." Then, in an even quieter, almost broken voice, you said: "And I'll do everything you want, Heeseung. Even… even get pregnant. If that’s what you desire from me." The alpha's breath caught in his throat. Those words… offered so sincerely, without malice, without strategy… they were like a blade to the chest. “If you do this,” he thought, “your family will disown you. They’ll cast you out. They’ll cut you off.” But a voice inside him whispered: "Good. Let them. She’ll find a new family. Mine." You looked at him again, standing tall even though your body trembled.

"I… I can become your perfect revenge. Imagine my father’s face when he finds out that an alpha has bound me. That his perfect little girl has been taken, tied, marked… and maybe even impregnated. He’ll be furious. Humiliated, and I… I’ll be free from a forced marriage between two families pretending to support each other." Heeseung gritted his teeth, fighting with himself. "And you think I would give you freedom?" he said bitterly. You smiled, this time bitter but sincere. "I know you don’t like me, Heeseung. You don’t have to. But you… you and I are the best at herbology. No one beats us. And yet they always pit us against each other because they want to see us break. But I’ve always seen you. Always respected you. And I know that when alphas choose a mate, they love her. They protect her. They let her… live. Better than in a gilded cage with Jiwon. Better than being just a breeder to be showcased for my beauty and my calming power over people." Silence.

Heeseung’s breath was broken, his gaze fierce but filled with torment, looking at you as if you were poison and remedy at the same time. Desire and destruction. He took a step closer, then another. Now he was so close you could feel his hot breath on your face. "And if I marked you now?" he whispered. "If I pushed you against that table and bound you mercilessly… in front of these plants… while you cry, but not from fear… just because you’re finally free?" Your breath hitched. Your omega inside was trembling. You looked into his eyes, even though your heart was pounding, and the omega aura crackled in the air, ready to bend, ready to follow… but you didn’t look away. "I'm not ready yet," you murmured. His lips curled into a bitter sneer. "Pathetic," he hissed. "Not even for a kiss?" The tone was venomous and harsh. But you felt it… it wasn’t real. It was self-defense. It was fear. It was broken pride. Heeseung knew you were right. No one was truly ready for the bond of a knot. Not even him. And yet… as your omega scent mixed with his natural alpha fragrance – strong, resinous, with hints of musk and spices – something in the air became dangerously sweet; a mutual intoxication. Lethal but also… irresistible. He took a few steps forward. His voice was low, rasping as if scratched by pain. "Your father… killed my brother. Like a dog. He left him there… eyes open. And blood painting the end on the floor, and you… you’re here. Crying. Asking to be saved." You didn’t answer. You just listened, the tears now free, warm, slipping down your cheeks. Your heart screamed, but your mouth remained silent. He noticed. And for a moment, he softened. He sighed, running a hand through his fiery red hair that he was trying to smother. “…I’ll think about it," he finally said. "I don’t promise anything." Your eyes lit up. And with a light, almost ironic voice, but sincere, you said: “At least it’s not a hard ‘no’…” He looked at you, raising an eyebrow, both irritated and amused at the same time. "I’ve had enough for tonight. Go back to the dance. Surely your ‘perfect omega’ is looking for you. You wouldn’t want to disappoint him, would you?" You looked at him sweetly, with that touch of innocent defiance that only an omega like you could afford. "When will you decide?" Heeseung stared at you for a moment, then looked away. But his words struck straight to your chest: "You’ll know soon enough, and prepare yourself mentally, princess… because if I decide to knot you and make you mine, it won’t be for play." You nodded, feeling every word resonate inside you. You bowed, in the ancient silence of the greenhouse, and you left. Light heels, uncertain steps, a heart-pounding wildly, but behind your chest… a small flame had taken a life, and you knew, as you stepped out into the cold night, that not everything was lost.

Three days had passed, seventy-two hours, four thousand three hundred and twenty minutes. Not that you were counting, of course. Every time you crossed paths with him in the Academy's hallways, or during Herbology class, Heeseung didn't even spare you a glance. He was icy, impassive, as if that night in the greenhouse had never happened, yet… you could feel it. His scent. His fleeting gaze. His breath changing every time you entered the room. In the meantime, you had searched for everything there was about knotting between an alpha and an omega.

“The knot can last from twenty to forty-five minutes.”

“During the mating, the omega enters a state of controlled instinctive heat, where the body completely surrenders.”

“The alpha, if compatible, can permanently mark the omega, leaving an irreversible spiritual, emotional, and physical bond.”

“Fertilization is highly likely if the omega does not take the contraceptive pill, even during non-fertile days, due to the high release of pheromones.”

Every time you read something like this, your thighs clenched involuntarily, as if trying to hold something back. A strange, warm, pulsing sensation. Your body knew. Your body wanted. But your mind was scared. Your best friend was an alpha, Heeseung's cousin, and a small genetic miracle: daughter of a male omega and a female alpha. Like you, she had never been knotted. That afternoon, you both lay under the willow in the inner courtyard, your bare feet in the cold grass, talking softly. "My mom told me it's like… being branded by fire. It hurts. It's ecstasy and tearing together. But also that after, you can never live without him, especially if you start to have feelings during the act." You lowered your gaze, playing with the bracelets on your wrist. "I don't know if I'm ready… but I keep thinking about what he had to go through because of my family, the omega bloodline, and I don’t even know if he truly hates me. I just know that… I'm so sorry. Truly sorry. For him. For what he's lived through." She hugged you gently. Her embrace was warm, and reassuring. Familiar. "Heeseung… suffered more than anyone. You have no idea. He was just a boy when it happened. And since then, he hasn’t let anyone touch him. He’s never been close to an omega. Not even one." You looked at her, your eyes misty, but determined. "I know. And you know what the worst part is? That… I’m jealous." She chuckled softly, nudging you with her shoulder. "Jealous of what, idiot?" she laughed, though also intrigued by your candid confession. "That you can choose whoever you want, whenever you want. No one forces you. But I’ve already got a predetermined fate… unless…" you said, looking at the enchanted clearing in front of you. "Unless you rebel," she finished, hugging you. "Unless you choose who you want to be and refuse to give yourself to a man who will never satisfy you. You know that’s the easiest path, but if you give yourself fully to Heeseung, you know it will be the hardest road, but also the one where you can live and show who you are, not just a docile omega." You smiled and, to lighten the mood, teased her: "So, who would you like to knot you or, I don’t know, go out with someone? Come on, tell me. Jake? Jay? Or… Sunghoon? You’ve got three good options!" She blushed up to her ears and covered her face. "Don’t start!" You winked at her at the mention of Sunghoon's name, and she collapsed onto the grass with an exasperated groan, telling you not to start because she couldn’t stand that guy who looked like a human ice cube. Then, as you both laughed, you felt your phone vibrate. A single message.

One sender: Heeseung. "Friday. 21:30 PM. Classroom above the astronomical tower."

Your breath caught in your throat. You had been summoned, like an ancient ritual, a call that could not be ignored. Your mother had always told you that when an alpha wants you… you feel it, but no one had prepared you to feel it like this.

Friday evening had arrived. Too fast, too slow. Every hour that passed that day seemed to melt into your skin like hot wax. Anxiety? No, it was a deeper bubbling. It was the awareness that in just a few hours, your destiny would change forever or perhaps… you would truly become yours for the first time. You wore something simple but carefully chosen: a loose ivory sweater, slightly faded jeans, and your lucky bracelets. Your fingers trembled a little as you closed the door behind you. It wasn’t fear; it was awareness. You arrived before the set time, but he… was already there. The large classroom at the top of the astronomical tower was bathed in silence. Heeseung was sitting on the couch by the huge window, his back straight, hands in his pockets, his gaze lost in the lake where the moon reflected like a broken dream. His silhouette seemed drawn by the light: red hair like domesticated fire, broad shoulders, an imposing back. A true alpha. A king awaiting his new queen. You didn’t say a word. You entered quietly and sat next to him, fiddling with the bracelets on your wrist to hold back the heart that was beating too fast. Then you looked at him. His perfect profile, straight nose, long lashes, taut jaw. “Have you decided?” you asked, your voice low and sincere. He didn’t look at you, not immediately, and continued staring at the water. “Are you sure?” His voice was rough, low, like a dull blade, and you nodded. “Yes, only your cousin knows, my best friend. No one else.” Heeseung slowly turned towards you, his amber eyes piercing through you. “My brothers know. All six of them: Jay, Jake, Hoon, Sunoo, Jungwon, and Niki.” You swallowed hard. His “brothers,” as Heeseung called them, weren’t his blood brothers, but they had grown up together, seven of them, as a real family. All seven were alphas with true marks and supernatural powers, and Heeseung had been elected as their leader for his aura, his flawless hunting skills, always perfect and borderline survival, but he always made it, one way or another. Two years ago, he had been elected and crowned the leader of the new generation of alphas. You gathered your courage and asked him. “And… what did they say?” You knew some might have turned their noses up, like Sunghoon and Ni-Ki, but others could have pushed him to accept, like Jake, Sunoo, and Jungwon. But the one he trusted most was Jay. He turned fully towards you, leaning against the couch with his arms crossed.

“They said I’d be crazy to do it. That you’re a risk. An emotional bomb. That you carry a dirty past with you. That you don’t deserve a bond with our family.” Your heart clenched… until he added, coldly: “But Jay pointed out something: your family is on the verge of ruin, and they have land in the city that… is worth a lot of money. That’s why they want to marry you off to that scoundrel omega, because with his construction company, he can use his connections, but also benefit from your name. If you were to knot, and then… marry… those lands would become mine, ours, and my family would come out even stronger.” You stayed silent for a moment before interrupting him. “Wait, wait, did you just say Marriage?!”

Heeseung looked at you and shrugged. "You know, after a year of knotting… all bound couples get married. It’s law. It’s culture. It’s biology." You lowered your gaze, your fingers tightening around the bracelets, then lifted your eyes, unsure. "So… is this a yes? Are you telling me yes? That you want to knot me and marry me?" Heeseung studied you carefully for a long time, his gaze so deep it made you tremble inside, as though he could see every crack in you. Then he spoke: "Yes. But I won’t love you. Never. This isn’t a fairytale. There will be no love, no hearts, no ribbons. I’ll give you the freedom you want. I’ll rip you away from your destiny, but my heart… remains mine." His words were a punch to the stomach, but also… salvation. You looked at him with a small spark in your eyes. "I don’t ask for your heart, Heeseung, just the choice, the freedom to be myself." And he nodded. "Then prepare yourself, because when an alpha decides… there’s no turning back." As his words faded between you—cold, sharp, definitive—you didn’t think twice. You hugged him with small, trembling arms but full of courage. He was rigid, cold, like a statue carved from black stone… but you sank into him anyway. You sank into his chest, feeling the tension, the anger… and the heartbeat. That powerful alpha heartbeat that echoed against yours. "Tsk, what’s this, now omegas throw themselves into the arms of their enemies? How pathetic, cliché," he sneered. His tone was cynical, dismissive, but his words didn’t move you. You stayed there. With your forehead resting on his shoulder, eyes closed, and a breath that kicked inside you like a prayer. "I’ll thank you forever, Heeseung… I was more afraid of ending up in the hands of an omega like Jiwon, who doesn’t respect women… than being knotted, fertilized, reproduced, and maybe even dying." Your words were sincere, raw, and the truth made something inside him tremble.

Under his skin, in his blood, and then his heart raced. Unexpectedly, you felt a large hand rest on your back, a hesitant touch, almost instinctive, his fingers moving lightly in small circles.

A caress, a primitive form of contact that felt more like comfort than possession. And it was true what they said about you. A warm aura, made of light and peace, a gentle omega’s touch that soothed the soul, even before the flesh.

When you pulled away, Heeseung immediately felt the emptiness, as though you had torn away an invisible part of him. You lowered your gaze, rummaging in your bag, and handed him a folded sheet of paper.

He took it, perplexed, and opened it:

Medical certificate of Y/n (your surname)

Signature of the university gynecologist, and there were specific words written:

No illness.

Still a virgin.

Stable aura.

Mental and physical healing abilities.

Perfect response to stimulation from alpha, omega, or beta.

Adaptable to repeated knotting.

Receptive to imprinting and consensual domination.

He lifted his gaze to you, an eyebrow raised.

"Wow. My little elite virgin is already ready for the marriage packaging, huh? All that’s left is a pink bow and a tag that says ‘fertilize me, I’m pure.’"

He teased you, of course, with that sharp sarcasm from an alpha who didn’t want to give in.

But this time… there was a different tone, a hint of something not just irony.

It was interest, it was respect, and despite everything, it was… dangerously close to admiration.

You stuck out your tongue at him, playful but sweet, and were about to say something—but you didn’t have time.

His fingers gently took your chin, and for a moment…

those amber eyes—eyes of a deer and a predator combined—studied you like an enigma no one had ever dared to solve, and then he kissed you, without warning, without control.

The kiss wasn’t just a kiss — it was a restrained bite, a bite on instinct.

Heeseung wasn’t just anyone. He was the Alpha of all Alphas. Born to dominate, to protect, to take. And right in front of him stood the perfect embodiment of everything he was meant to destroy… and yet, he wanted to possess it.

You whimpered softly under his touch, and that alone was enough to awaken the darkest part of him — that hunger. That urge to explore every inch of you.

He pressed your shoulders with one hand and gently laid you down on the couch, slowly, almost like a predator who takes his time before devouring his prey. He leaned over you, barely giving you space to breathe.

His Alpha scent was overwhelming. Warm like fire, sharp like pepper. You trembled — not out of fear.

Your body was beginning to accept the inevitable.

Heeseung stared at you, and in his eyes, there was raw hunger.

Not just the desire to kiss you, but to tear away your control, and melt your resistance.

To see you fall apart under his touch and then… cry, call for him, beg for him.

"So small. So pure. I’d only need to spread her legs and she'd already be mine. One thrust, one knot, and her whole life would change. She was made to be filled, born to take me in, to be only mine," he thought as he heard your moan.

“Moaning from just a kiss? Pathetic…” he murmured against your lips, with that crooked, cursed smile — but he didn’t pull away.

He deepened the kiss, opening your mouth again and sliding his tongue in further — exploring, taking, claiming.

And you let him. As if you had been waiting for this all along.

Your bodies moved against each other without shame.

His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them slightly — just enough for you to understand that he could.

That if he wanted to, he could knot you right there.

“You’re not even ready for my kiss — let alone my knot,” he whispered in your ear, voice hoarse, while you trembled beneath him.

“Your thighs squeeze shut every time I get close, you know? I can feel it. Your body begs for me… and you don’t even realize it.”

You gasped, cheeks flushed, throat dry.

“I want it to be beautiful…” you managed to whisper, voice broken.

He laughed. A low, wicked laugh, thick with promises.

“It won’t be beautiful. It’ll be unforgettable. But let me warn you, little omega…”

He moved a strand of hair from your face, looking precisely where he’d mark you.

“When I knot you, I’ll do it properly. I’ll make you tremble. Cry. Come. Not just once. Every time I want it. I’ll train your body to welcome me until you beg to be bred.”

He paused, eyes blazing.

“Because when I want you, I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. No excuses. And you… will thank me.”

You nodded slowly, lips parted, unable to speak — only to feel.

“Good,” he whispered again, leaning close once more. “Then start taking the pill. Because if you forget even once… I swear I’ll knock you up and keep you tied to me forever.”

Classroom near the tower – the fourth day before the knotting

Time seemed to bend every time you entered that room. There was something about the scent Heeseung left on the walls, the curtains, even the wood of the desk — it made your thighs clench just crossing the threshold.

When he entered, silent as always, the air tightened.

You were already there, sitting with your hands on your knees, head lowered, your pleated skirt barely revealing the soft skin of your thighs.

But he saw you and chuckled softly.

“So good. Like a little puppy waiting for its master.”

His voice was velvet and venom. It hit you straight in the gut.

“I’m not a dog,” you murmured. But you didn’t lift your gaze. Never before he allowed it.

“Oh no?” he stepped closer, one slow step at a time. “Then why are you crouched here every time, ready to let me touch anything I want?”

You swallowed.

“Because that’s the deal, Heeseung. If you don’t touch me, don’t train me, I might die.”

He was on you in a second. His body pressed against yours, and his hand grabbed your face firmly, forcing you to look at him.

Those eyes — dark, liquid, hungry. “Stop pretending you're doing this just for the agreement. You don’t tremble like that every time I touch you out of duty.”

“I... I do it to survive, and you know perfectly well what my fate would be otherwise, Heeseung.” A smirk appeared on his lips as he brushed your mouth with his thumb.

“Then surviving turns you on, omega?” You wanted to answer, but you couldn’t. Because he was right. Your body spoke louder than your words.

With a jerk, he turned you around and bent you forward against the desk. Your cheek pressed against the cold wood. You could feel his breath behind you.

“Look at yourself. So obedient. So submissive. You didn’t even ask what I’m going to do to you today.”

“What… what will you do to me today, Alpha?” Your voice trembled.

“I’m prepping you, as always. But today… you’ll be on your knees. With your mouth this time. I need to know if you can take me there too.” Your heart stopped for a second.

Then you nodded slowly. “Yes, Alpha. As you wish.”

“Good little obedient omega.”

His voice dripped sweet poison, and you drank it like water. He made you kneel between his legs. He stroked your hair with slow irony like one would pet a domesticated animal.

“Look how docile my revenge prize is. The father kills my brother, and the daughter kneels for me. There is justice in this world after all.”

You wanted to talk back. You looked up at him, your breath already shaky.

“You don’t own me… yet.”

“But you act like I do. So tell me, little one — who’s in charge here?”

“You… Alpha.”

He made you stand again. Pressed you against the wall, his body locked into yours. His hands were everywhere: on your throat, your hips, under your skirt. He kissed you violently, and then his voice dropped.

“In just a few days, I’ll knot you. And it won’t be sweet. I want to feel your tears, I want to hear your voice begging for more. You asked for revenge… but you served it to me on a silver platter.”

His teeth sank into your neck.

Not to mark you — not yet. But to show he was close.

You gasped, your bare breasts pressed to his warm chest.

“Alpha… thank you… for not breaking me yet.”

He chuckled against your skin.

“Oh, princess… who told you I haven’t already?”

The dining room was bathed in golden light, the chandeliers casting a soft glow across the space. The guests' murmurs wove together in a steady hum. The long, dark wooden table was meticulously set, adorned with nothing but forced smiles and carefully measured words.

You sat poised, hands resting on your lap, back straight, cheeks lightly brushed with makeup. Beside you sat your “future husband”: Jiwon, leader of the new generation of omegas—perfect in looks, rotten in soul. His fake smile stung every time his elbow brushed against yours as if to remind you that you belonged to him.

But that wasn’t true.

In two days, Heeseung would claim you. He would mark you—make you his and none of the people seated at that table knew it.

Your father raised his glass toward you, a proud smile on his lips.

'You look beautiful, Y/n. I can’t wait to see you at the altar. You’ll be the purest bride this clan has ever seen.'

You nodded with a gentle smile.

Pure.

If only he had seen your bruised knees, your reddened neck, and the bites Heeseung had left on you just two nights ago.

Jiwon grinned and added in a smug voice, “Yeah, I’m excited too. Maybe we should put a collar on her to keep her from running off the altar—like she does every time I try to kiss her!”

Scattered laughter rippled among the guests, but the air grew noticeably colder.

You smiled politely, though deep down you wanted to rip his tongue out.

Then Jiwon’s mother, seated across the table, chimed in with a sweet voice and a probing tone.

-And you, Y/n? Where would you like to get married? Something simple, I imagine? A nice garden near the countryside, perhaps. Nothing too extravagant…-

You answered her gracefully, eyes lowered in a courteous smile.

“I’ve always dreamed of getting married at the White Peak Falls. It's wrapped in mist—like it’s floating in the sky. It feels... intimate.”

The woman frowned, clearly displeased.

-Too damp. It would ruin the hair and makeup. Better something classic, like the Hidden Rose Pavilion. At least there, you can breathe nobility.-

Before you could respond, Jiwon shifted in his seat and raised his voice just enough to draw attention.

“Anyway, there’s still time. The wedding can only happen a year after the bonding ceremony, and I haven’t exactly… left my mark on her yet.”

Silence fell for a moment.

Your cheeks flushed—not from embarrassment, but from the searing memory of Heeseung’s hands gripping your waist, his warm tongue on your skin, his raspy voice calling you his "well-behaved little omega" as he bent you to his will.

To everyone else, you seemed so naïve. So obedient. So inexperienced.

But they knew nothing.

You knew how to ignite desire. How to stroke an Alpha’s pride without bruising it. How to touch not just the body—but the mind.

And you had learned it all from the Alpha among Alphas.

You smiled sweetly and raised your gaze.

“Well, a year may sound long... but time flies when one is busy... learning.”

Jiwon looked at you with a flicker of surprise and curiosity, as if the double meaning had taken him a moment to register. Then, he smiled.

He leaned in and took your hand, kissing it in front of everyone—slowly, with exaggerated elegance.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Soon... I’ll be the one teaching you. And you’ll be all mine.”

You shivered. Not with desire— But with disgust.

And under the table, your nails dug into the skin of your palm, just to stop yourself from screaming the truth that burned in your throat:

“No. I already belong to him.”

The night was thick and humid, the fog still clinging to the air, and the faint glow of the streetlamps seemed to float in midair. Every step you took was a risk—sneaking past the night guard, entering the male quarters where omegas weren’t allowed without permission—but you didn’t care. He was waiting for you. When you turned the corner of the main hallway, you saw him. Heeseung was there, leaning against his doorway, hands in his pockets, that usual look in his eyes—slow, dark, like the night itself. “Took you forever,” he said, his voice slipping under your skin. “There’s fog and it’s damp… I even straightened my hair and got ready,” you murmured with a soft huff, tucking a strand behind your ear. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head, smirking. “What a waste. I’ll have my hands in that hair soon… and you might end up sweating, too.” You rolled your eyes, but didn’t bother hiding the heat rising in your cheeks. “You’re awful.” “And yet you still came.” His room took you by surprise. It wasn’t what you’d expected from an Alpha like him—no hunting trophies or flexed muscles covering every wall. Instead, shelves lined with collectible Legos, a wall of perfectly arranged video games, a music console with headphones hanging neatly… and then—the bed. Massive. Dark. With rumpled sheets and heavy blankets. The room was dim, yes, but it radiated him. That blend of dominance and stillness. Controlled chaos just beneath the skin. It crept over you like a chill. “Sit.” His voice was lower now, closer. You looked him in the eyes and obeyed—like a true omega. You sat at the edge of the bed, hands in your lap, back straight, heart in chaos. He stood in front of you, his hands placed on either side of your legs, his body bending forward just enough to make you feel small—just how he liked it. He stared at you for a long moment, then spoke, quiet and serious. “One last time. Are you sure?” You met his eyes—no hesitation left in yours. “Yes. I want this. I want you.” Slowly, he lifted a hand and brushed your cheek with his knuckles. The touch was warm, certain. Then he smiled. Not the soft kind—but the sharp one. The one that sent every nerve on high alert. “To think… out of everyone, you looked the most innocent. The purest. And yet here you are, sitting on an Alpha’s bed, ready to be knotted like a good little obedient doll.” Your breath hitched, but your gaze didn’t falter. His finger ran over your lips, parting them just slightly. “But don’t worry, sweetheart. Tonight, I’ll teach you how to ask for pleasure. And how to receive it… only when I decide.” You nodded shyly, though your heart pounded like a drum. Heeseung sat beside you on the bed with the calm danger of someone who knows exactly what they want. “Kiss me.” You didn’t hesitate. You leaned in, kneeling on the edge of the bed, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him close with that sweetness that tasted of surrender… and need. Your omega scent mixed with the damp air, and your lips sought his—quietly desperate, respectful, hungry.

The kiss was slow, like a silent plea for permission in every touch. But Heeseung… Heeseung was different.He kissed you with teeth, with tongue, like he was taking something from you.

Like every moan you gave was a small revenge pressed into your skin.

His hands gripped your waist, pulling you tighter, and then he chuckled against your mouth.

“Mmh. So good… so hungry… you’re like one of those sweet little dolls, just waiting to be unwrapped.”

You blushed but didn’t get the chance to reply. His hands grabbed your ass, lifting you swiftly to straddle his lap, your body fitting perfectly against his.

Beneath your light skirt, his hands roamed upward, shameless.

“And underneath… what’s my little liar wearing, hmm?” His fingers brushed along the curve of your backside, finding the edge of the fabric.

“Panties…” you whispered, voice barely audible.

“What color?” His voice was poison and honey, the Alpha demanding truth… and control.

“Blue and white… with a little bow.”

He let out a low, amused laugh.

“Well, would you look at that? Do you really want me to take you while you’re still wearing those good-girl panties?

Tsk… you’re just a little omega dressed up as temptation.”

You flushed again but didn’t move.

You stayed still, just like a well-trained omega, breath trembling, lips slightly parted.

Heeseung leaned in again, kissing you with more hunger, more claim.

One hand gripped your hips, holding you in place; the other slid up your back, under your shirt.

Then it moved down—his lips trailing your neck, stopping at the exact point between your jaw and shoulder.

A soft, choked moan escaped you—honest, fragile.

Your body recognized him. Craved him. He smiled against your skin.

“Oh, listen to that moan… so easy, so sweet. Baby, we haven’t even started. And you’re already melting.”

He took your chin in two fingers, making you look into his eyes.

His lips were everywhere along your neck—warm, deliberate, hungry.

Each bite, and each suck left you gasping quietly.

And when you tried to speak, you stuttered.

“H-Hee… y-you’re…”

“What?” he whispered against your damp skin, that teasing tone of someone who already knew.

“Omegas are always so submissive… but you? You’re something else.

You stutter just from me brushing your neck?”

You wanted to reply with something sharp—but another moan betrayed you.

He laughed.

“Pathetic. I haven’t even touched you properly yet.”

Still, your voice—trembling—came through, laced with that spark he always liked.

“You talk a lot… but if I wasn’t worth it, you’d never have wanted me in your bed.”

He paused for a second.

Then looked you dead in the eyes, a half-feral grin on his lips.

“Touché.”

His hand slid up your arm, fingers hooking into the edge of your sweater.

“Take it off.”

Of course, you obeyed. Like every well-behaved omega.

Like his omega.

You slipped the sweater off slowly, revealing your bare shoulders and a simple white lace bralette—delicate, but elegant.

Heeseung whistled low, that crooked grin still playing on his lips.

“Cute. But without it… you'd be perfect.”

And without waiting for permission, he unclasped it with one fluid motion.

The fabric slipped away, and your bare breasts rose with each shaky breath.

He bit his lip, eyes locked on you.

“Would you look at that… so sweet, so full… like they’ve been waiting just for me.” He teased you but didn’t give you time to reply. He leaned down over you, his mouth capturing one of your sensitive buds, sucking slowly, savoring the way you trembled, the way your fingers clung to his shoulders. His hand kept you still, but then slid down, grabbing between your legs with sudden force. “H-Heeseung… it’s t-too much…” You whispered, voice trembling between a moan and a gasp. He stopped. Looked at you with a sharp, amused expression. “Too much? What, is my Omega fragile?” Then he nodded, voice dropping lower. “Alright. I’ll go easy… for now.” His hand changed pace—slow, almost gentle. But his mouth didn’t stop. It moved from one breast to the other, licking and nibbling with a hunger he no longer cared to hide. “This skin… this body…” he murmured against you, “—soon it’ll all be mine. Completely. And no one will ever touch you again.”

His lips didn’t stop. They were everywhere on your body: your neck, already marked by his kisses, your aching breasts, then lower… down past your belly button. You trembled not only from his touch but from what it meant. From what was about to happen. Heeseung noticed. He stopped. His hands rested on your hips, his gaze climbing up to your eyes. “Don’t be afraid of me,” he said, voice low, almost dark. You nodded, hands still clutching the sheets beneath you. “I know… it’s just… I didn’t expect any of this. I feel like a lamb laid out for slaughter.” A crooked smile tugged at his lips. Cruel. Tender. Heeseung was everything and it was the opposite. “That’s exactly what you are. A sweet, fragile little omega… too good for this world.” Then his tone shifted, more serious. “But you forgot—there were only two choices: me or Jiwon.” You didn’t hesitate. “I want you.” His eyes narrowed. Something flickered inside him, fast like lightning. Maybe pride. Maybe… something more. “Good girl,” he murmured. “That’s how you answer an Alpha.”

Gently, he laid you down on the bed. Your body sank into the dark sheets, your skin already hot from every touch of his. He knelt in front of you, bare chest rising and falling with deep breaths. He reached out and stroked your cheek—a soft gesture. Unusual. Disarming. As if, just for a moment… he wanted to be something more than your master. Then he leaned down again, this time pressing his lips to your belly button. He kissed you there slowly, and you… giggled softly. A small, unexpected sound. Fragile. Childlike. He stopped and looked at you. “Did you just laugh?” His voice was surprised, but not harsh. Almost… amused. “You tickled me there,” you murmured, hands moving to cover your face in embarrassment. Heeseung shook his head and gave you a light slap on the thigh—a playful scolding. “This is the preparation for the knot, and you’re laughing? Are you disrespecting me, little Omega?” But his tone was no longer just dominant. It was… something else. He stared at you like he didn’t know anymore if he just wanted to mark you… or protect you. And you felt it. Something was changing in the way he touched you, in the way he looked at you, in how he took care of your body… without rushing, without fully dominating. As if he, too, needed to feel something. Not just vengeance. And inside your chest… fear mixed with another feeling. “Now,” he murmured, voice rough and deep, “I’m taking this skirt off.” And it wasn’t a request. With one swift, impatient motion, he pulled it down your hips. The fabric gave way with a sharp tear, and in an instant, you were exposed to the cool air of the room, bare skin tense beneath his gaze. Instinctively, you closed your legs. Too exposed. Too vulnerable. But he didn’t allow it. “Keep them open for me,” he growled, grabbing your knees and spreading them with fierce slowness. “Your scent is everywhere. Do you know how much you’re dripping for me, little Omega?”

He leaned down. His hot breath on your core made every part of you jolt. “Mmh, panties already soaked?” He smiled. The smile of a predator. “You’re really that desperate for me, huh? How cute…” He started kissing your thighs, slowly, with warm lips and a slow tongue, like he wanted to mark you there too, inch by inch. But every now and then he’d graze a sensitive spot, and you… you’d squirm, tremble, giggle quietly. “S-stop… you’re tickling me…” “Tsk,” he muttered, lifting his eyes with mock disapproval. “No girl laughs this much before being knotted. Are you mocking me, Omega?” You looked up at him, breathing in short gasps. Your eyes glimmered with shame and wonder. “Maybe I’m special.” For a moment, the silence was thick. Heeseung stared at you, and something in his gaze shifted.

The pure Alpha mask cracked—just a little. Maybe from pride. Maybe because deep down… he really thought you were special. Then he lowered himself again between your thighs, his fingers slowly trailing along your panties. “Special or not,” he murmured, voice rough like sandpaper, tonight you’re mine. To the last drop of your scent. Until no other man dares to even look at you.”

Heeseung took off his hoodie with a slow but determined motion, and you watched him — you couldn’t help but stare. His body was sculpted, and strong, radiating that raw energy only a powerful Alpha could possess. But what truly struck you were the scars. They ran across his chest, his biceps… old, some of them deep. Painful even to look at. Your hand rose on its own, hesitant, brushing one of the faded lines on his arm. He tensed. For a second, he seemed to hold his breath, even as his lips were still on your skin, right there between your thighs. “Don’t touch those,” he said, voice rough, almost harsh — but you didn’t pull back immediately. You looked at him, with a tenderness you hadn’t expected from yourself. “Who did this to you…?” Heeseung didn’t answer. But he didn’t move away either. Instead, he lowered his head again — and this time, there was no more gentleness. With one sharp move, he tore off your panties too, leaving you completely exposed under his gaze. “Don’t talk about the past. Not now.”

His voice had turned harder. Hungrier. He spread your legs again, and his warm breath made you shiver. Then — without a warning, without a word — he spit slowly between your thighs, and the wet, hot sensation made you jolt. Your breath caught, and a moan escaped your lips. His mouth followed right after — hungry, relentless. “H-Heeseung…!”

You stammered, hands clutching at the sheets, your body trying to hold back a tidal wave you'd never felt before. “Wa–wait… I… it’s too much…” “Too much?” he growled against you. “We haven’t even started.” He looked up at you from below, eyes gleaming with desire and domination. “I’m going to fill you. First with my fingers, then with my cock — and you’ll thank me for every second.” You nodded. You couldn’t do anything else. And then you felt the first finger sink into you — your body tensed, breath catching for a moment, and your mouth tried to form some kind of response: “I-it feels… it’s warm… it’s overwhelming… but I like it…” He smirked, a fierce whisper at your ear. “Look how you open up for me. Such a good little Omega, so desperate. I thought you’d resist at least a little… but you're already trembling from just one finger.” The movement grew deeper, slower, exploring every inch of you — then, without warning, he added another. You moaned loudly. Almost a cry. Of pleasure, of shame, of surrender. And Heeseung watched you, like he was already carving your name under his skin. His fingers moved slowly but with purpose, sinking deeper between your thighs with increasing confidence. Heeseung stared at you like he owned every breath you took, every shiver that ran through you. When he added a third finger, your body arched toward him, and the words tumbled from your lips, a trembling whisper: “It’s… beautiful…” Heeseung laughed softly — a low, sharp sound. “Listen to you talk, little thing. Falling in love with something so simple. You really are an Omega… born to be beneath, born to entertain me.” His tone was cruel, but his voice scratched like molten honey. Already warm and vulnerable, you whimpered as he dipped down again, kissing you slowly, savoring every reaction he could pull from you. You grabbed his hair, tugging with a broken moan — and for the first time, you heard him… groan. A low, animalistic sound, while still buried deep inside you. Your body started to tremble. You knew it. You felt it building. “Hee… I… I’m about to…” He didn’t wait. He pushed you over the edge, adding a third finger, thrusting into you with firm, confident strokes — not even asking for permission. You screamed. And he smiled against your skin, while your body exploded beneath his control. “Look how you come for me…” he murmured, voice low and dangerous. “A little Omega who gives in so easily. So wet, so desperate. You were made to be filled by me.” You were gasping, still trembling, voice shattered by pleasure and surrender. “Only you… only for you, Heeseung. I’m your Omega…” He didn’t answer right away. He just stayed between your thighs, savoring every wave that still shook you. Then he rose slowly, his chest rising and falling, and his lips crashed onto yours with hunger. The kiss was raw. Wet. Tongues searching, claiming. No sweetness. Just possession. Instinct. “Can you taste what surrender feels like?” he whispered against your lips. “It’s sweet. It’s mine.” And you — breathless, shameless — kissed him again.

The room was immersed in a warm pre-shade, imbued with a tense silence. Heeseung slowly pulled off his pants, dropping them at the foot of the bed, and you couldn't take your eyes off him. The boer When he lowered them, your breath froze for a moment. It was like you had heard about the alphas: imposing, thick, damp at the end. You bit your lip slightly, instinctively, without even realizing it. His eyes rested on yours, and in a hoarse voice he asked you: "You want to touch it?»

You barely nodded, and with trembling fingers you brushed him, caressing him shyly, starting a slow movement. He whispered: "Are you sure?"

"One hundred percent," you replied, without hesitation. A satisfied growl came out of his throat. "Well. Then stay still." His hand slid between your legs, touching you with that confidence that only an Alpha like him could afford. he used his length to tease you, rubbing it on your clit until you shivered. "Put your hands on my shoulders. Squeeze, if it hurts." You nodded, your heart beating like crazy. Then, with a single shot, he entered you. Deep. Hot. Too.

Your body stretched, your eyes filled with tears ... but you did not protest. Not a word, just a broken groan. "Good, little omega," he whispered in his ear. "Now you are mine." His cock was completely inside you, and you were shaking under him, thighs slightly apart, hands clinging to his shoulders. Every muscle of yours tightened it with pure instinct, as if your body was born only to welcome it. Heeseung stood still, deeply immersed within you, his chest rising and falling slowly, his eyes nailed to yours. "Look how you're taking it," he growled. "I'll fill you up... and still you can hold me so well." You gasped slowly, your cheeks hot and red. "It's too much... you're like that... large...»

He raised an eyebrow, his smile crooked and dismissive. "Does it really surprise you? What did you think, princess? That the Alphas were delicate?" You shook your head slowly, your eyes shining. "No... it's just ... I didn't think I would like it so much ... and that it was so big" His expression changed. Darker. More intense. He bowed to you, his lips almost against your ear. "Do you like it? Feeling full? To know that you can't run away from me, that I took you all in and I won't let you go until you're branded?"

"Yes..." you whispered in a trembling voice. "I like it, Alpha..." "So you talk," he said, and pushed out slowly, leaving you empty for a moment. But before you could even complain, it came back into you forcefully, making you moan. "M-move ... but ... slowly, please..." Your voice was low, subdued. He laughed. "No. Now I decide. You made the deal, remember? You asked me to tie you. This is the price. And you'll be mine all night." His thrusts became slow but decisive, deep, calibrated to destroy you with sweetness. Every time you heard him go back inside, you moaned against his neck, hungry, surrendering.

"You squeeze so tight ... fuck ..." he muttered as he looked at you from above. "I didn't know an omega could take it this way."

"Because ... because I'm yours..." Those words came out to you without thinking, spontaneous, and had an immediate effect on him. "Repeat," he ordered, grabbing your chin, forcing you to look at him. "I'm... yours, Hee..." He looked at you, growled softly and pushed harder, deeper. Your legs tightened around his waist, your body was looking for his, desperate. "So good... so obedient ... A perfect little omega..." He ducked again, kissing you with hunger, as his cock filled and tamed you, one blow after another.

"And now... get ready, because when I knot you, it will be forever." His cock was so huge that you felt him press high, in the stomach, every push deeper than the previous one. Each blow barely lifted your pelvis, snatched an increasingly messy moan from you. Your legs closed around his hips with force, trying to hold him inside you as if you were afraid that he might leave. But Heeseung was not going anywhere. He was there to destroy you. "C-fuck... It's too much... you're too big ... I'm ... I'm— " you stammered, eyes half-closed, clouded with pleasure.

"What are you doing, huh? Tell me, little omega, are you breaking for my cock?» His voice was hoarse, deep, dripping with enjoyment. "S-yes ... Alpha ... I'm-I'm going crazy..." Your breath was broken, words broken with pleasure. "I can't... you're too much... you're filling me up too much..." Heeseung growled with satisfaction, sweat dripping from his temple as he continued to push into you with increasingly full blows.

"That's what you wanted, isn't it? Get fucked like a real omega. And now look how you're taking me ... you're my fucking prey.»

And you were. Your body had become one with his. Every fiber of yours vibrated to the rhythm of its thrusts. You felt the effect of Alpha running through your veins-hot, searing, like lava. Your muscles tightened more and more around him, held him, welcomed him. Then, suddenly, you felt him hitting something in you. A deeper, more sensitive area. Explosion.

"A-AH! HEESEUNG!"you screamed, your voice broken, as you clung with your fingernails to his back. "Oh God ... it's too ... too hot..." you stammered, trembling under him. He smiled against your neck, as he kept pushing against that precise point. "It's your body that's getting ready, baby. You're knotting. Your uterus ... feels it. And he wants me everything."

You felt your belly swell slightly. A sense of fullness that went beyond the physical. It was the bond that was forming, the knot that was coming. "A-Ah... Alpha... be—" The words came out to you with difficulty, as if you were drowning in pleasure. "I'm ... coming... you're draining me..."

"Very good. Come while I'm knotting you. I want to hear you squeeze it until the last shot."

His breathing became more labored, his thrusts slower but deeper. His hands held you still, and you, completely open to him, stammered only his name, like a desperate mantra. His knot began to swell inside you, slowly but surely, until it filled you in a way no one else could. Each push made it grow even more, and with each lunge your body strained more, unable to handle that superhuman pleasure. "Do you feel how big it is now?" he growled against your skin. "My knot is branding you from within. No one else can ever catch you. You're mine. Mine forever." He kept pushing hard into you, and you could only scream, the body shaken by continuous tremors, the legs clutching him with all the force. "Yes! Yes, I'm yours, Alpha! Only yours!"

"Good omega," he demoted you, in a rough voice.

"Now everyone will know. You're mine to take you in every way. Mine to fertilize you whenever I want. Your pussy is mine. Your body is mine. Every moan you make is for me." The knot was completely swollen now, blocking your every exit, and the feeling was driving you crazy. A heat wave swept over you, you screamed and scratched his back.

"I'm coming! Hee,—" His hand slid down, quick, and he started teasing your clit with expert fingers. You almost screamed from the overload. "N-no... I can't resist ... s-I'm ... I'm exploding!" you stammered between groans. "Your cock ... destroyed me! You're filling me up too much... too much... Heeseung!" Your body strained into a violent orgasm, a real mess that trickled down his knotted cock inside you. You writhed under him, not being able to stop the moans, completely consumed by pleasure.

"Look at you ... a good slut with all my knot in it. You messed up all over my cock.»

He praised you, but his hips did not stop. "And I'm not done yet... I can't stop, baby. The knot is swollen... but I want everything. To the last drop."

"Then give it to me..." you whispered, gasping for breath. "I want everything, I want to hear you... I want you to stay inside. Fill me up, Alpha ... make me yours ... all the way.» Heeseung looked at you with a dirty grin, eyes shining with animal instinct.

"I want you swollen with me. I want you full, smashed, marked. And when you're tired, I'll use you again." And with those words, he pushed again, slow but firm, as the knot throbbed inside you. His viscous cum slowly trickled out of your poor, hot, swollen, still pulsating pussy after knotting. But he didn't stop. He kept pushing inside you, slow, deep, with the knot still stuck, enjoying the way your body shook under his.

"I'm about to fill you again," he whispered in a broken voice, his breath warm against your ear. "You are mine. And I want you to feel it, deep inside." You moaned, the body already tired but still hungry, and then you screamed, bent with pleasure as you felt him ejaculating inside you with force, wave after wave, a boiling river that seemed to never end. Your belly swelled slightly, and your breathing became short. "It's too much... Hee ... it's so much ... you're ... filling me all..."

"You must be. I have to be sure." His thrusts became slower, almost sweet. But he didn't stop until he was sure he had branded you thoroughly.

When the knot finally began to deflate, Heeseung slipped out with a low, deep groan. The hot liquid dripped down your thighs, dirty, impudent. He took you by the hips with a force still present, but no longer violent. He drew you to himself. You huddled against him, your forehead against his bare, sweaty chest, and your body trembled, overwhelmed. Heeseung gently stroked your side, still slightly panting.

"Are you okay?" he asked, the voice calmer, but still hoarse. Nod quietly, without speaking. But after a few seconds, the silence was broken by a sob. One. Then another. Your shoulders trembled, your eyes filled with silent tears. He stiffened for a moment. Then he trembled.

"Did I hurt you?"he asked in a whisper, almost frightened by what he might have caused. He lifted a little on one elbow, looking for your gaze. "Look at me" But you didn't. For the first time, you did not obey. You huddled more, confused, vulnerable, fragile. Then he took you by the chin gently, but with his usual authority.

"princess... look at me. Now." And you, with tears in your eyes, finally looked up. Your eyes met. And without saying anything, you kissed him. A trembling kiss, which smelled of salt and surrender. Heeseung stood still for a moment, surprised. Then he reciprocated, slowly, sweeter than he had ever done. His hands clasped your face as your mouths merged into something new. Between kisses, you whispered: «Thank…» He just peeled off, his lips still close to yours, and laughed quietly, almost in disbelief. "I thought I had broken you... and instead you thank me?»

He shook his head, and stroked your side again, this time more slowly, almost protective. "You're really weird little omega." he said stroking your cheek "It was... beautiful," you whispered against his chest, still short of breath, his voice tired but sincere. Heeseung raised an eyebrow, a half-smile on his lips. "Beautiful, huh? You just got fucked until you lost your voice and now you're talking like you're out of a romantic movie."

You snorted softly, hiding your face in his arms, and he laughed. But that laugh was no longer sharp, nor cynical. It was soft, true. He stroked your hair with his fingers, then said in a lower voice: "You were brave, princess. To trust an Alpha like that... is not for everyone." You were silent for a moment, then you spoke in a low voice. "I didn't want to suffer. I didn't want to be used anymore..." He stiffened slightly, then took you by the chin and forced you to look into his eyes. "I can't promise you you won't suffer, omega. But one thing I can promise you: from now on you are mine.» His voice was deep, definitive.

"You have a new home, a new family. In my eyes you will always be an omega — but not just any omega. Inside you is my seed. My knot. And no male omega can get closer to you. Not even trying." You got a shudder. Not of fear, but of awareness. That connection was real now. Heeseung leaned slowly, her lips warm on your skin. He licked away his sperm that was still dripping between your thighs, slow, precise, as if he wanted to clean you and at the same time remind you that it was all his. His tongue moved where you had the marks of his bites, and he soothed them with moist, warm kisses.

"Hee… it tickles..." you whispered, chuckling softly. He paused for a moment and looked at you with a little grin. "You’re really strange, you know?" He lightly bit your thigh, pretending, then moved up and pulled you into his arms. "I’m sleeping with you tonight." He said it as if it were obvious. You looked at him, surprised. "Really? I thought... once we were knotted, I’d leave." He huffed, as if you’d said something silly. "You still don’t get it, little omega. You’re tied to me now. And I’m tied to you. We’re sleeping together. End of story." He pulled you against him, his broad chest against your back, and wrapped his arms around you, fitting you perfectly into his body. "Close your eyes. We’ll think about everything tomorrow. Now... sleep." And for the first time, you felt truly safe.

You woke up surrounded by a warm, almost reassuring sensation. The sheets were still damp from what you’d done the night before, and your lower belly throbbed slightly, a twinge that reminded you of every thrust, every moan, every possessive whisper that had broken and rebuilt you. You slowly turned and found him there. Heeseung. He was sleeping as if the world outside didn’t exist. His lips, slightly parted, formed an almost tender pout. His nose, large but perfectly proportioned, barely moved with his steady breathing. His red hair was a total mess: it fell messily over his forehead, and you remembered perfectly how you had tugged at it the night before, lost in pleasure. You blushed involuntarily. The little moles on his face seemed to be drawn by hand. And his arms—strong, warm, dominant—still held you close, as if he wanted to make sure you couldn’t escape even in your sleep. Then, without opening his eyes, he whispered in a hoarse voice: "Stop staring at me like that, or you’ll end up falling in love." You lifted your gaze, sighing. "You have an ego as big as your knot, you know that?" He opened one eye, then chuckled softly, that deep laugh that made you tremble even without meaning to. He pulled you closer, pressing you even more into his chest. "And it seems you liked both of them, princess." You sighed, even though you couldn’t deny it. Then, with a more serious tone, you asked him: "And now? What happens?" Heeseung gently caressed your back, his fingers slow, distracted. "Now, when you walk out that door, your scent will have changed. Everyone will smell it. Every alpha will know you’ve been knotted. Every male omega will keep their distance. And no one will dare touch you… because the scent will be mine." You swallowed. "And if... if Jiwon still tries?" Heeseung paused for a brief moment, then looked at you. "Are you more afraid of him... or your father?" You stayed silent, then whispered softly: "My father." He moved, pressing his forehead against yours. "He won’t do anything. Not as long as I’m here or my brothers are. You’re mine now. And no one touches what’s mine." You nodded slowly, but a small knot formed in your throat. Heeseung seemed to notice, but didn’t say anything. He slowly stood up, his muscles flexing as he stretched, and looked at you. "It’s time to see what’s happening outside this room." You were about to get up, but he stopped you. He bent down slowly and left a kiss on your forehead, unexpectedly tender. You looked at him, surprised. "And this?" He shrugged almost indifferently, though his tone was softer. "Post-knot ritual. All alphas do it with their mates." He was lying. And you knew it, but you didn’t say anything, even though you had seen something in his eyes that wasn’t there the night before: something strange, something dangerously close to a feeling.

PT2?

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