Niya

this blog is mainly just me being in love with park jay . she/her. 22.

[simjakedly]

the summer i got horny - s.jy

main masterlist

summary. nerdy sim jaeyun is sweating buckets when the baddie he's been crushing on sits in his lap on a two-hour road trip.

pairing. nerdy!jake x baddie!female reader

genre(s). oneshot, smut, big porn with a small plot

warnings. MDNI, jake is a professional yearner, jake is very shy and repressed (and a bit insecure), masturbation, pervert!jake, unprotected sex (pls don’t), subby switch!jake, top or bottom he's always a sub, reader is a bit mean, jake cries a lot and begs a lot, slight sunsunki if you squint, handjob, blowjob, nose-riding, jake eats her out as well, reverse cowgirl, cowgirl, missionary, BRO WHY IS IT NEVER-ENDING, but like it's messy, EDGING EDGING EDGINGGGG, reader calls him jaeyun, reader is jealous and possessive, implied aftercare, enhypen ensemble, hmm please let me know if i missed anything! not beta read we die like injang

word count. 14,807 words

note. oh boy! this used to be a veeeery old, 8k-word draft, my take on nerdy jake that i decided to polish and give life to. it is also a gift for my bestie and fellow jake's wife: dr. @twocupsofsuga 🫶🏼 congratulations on passing medschool! you're so smart mhm here's my lap dance for you 😏

Women make Sim Jaeyun nervous.

Especially someone as bold and confident like you.

There's something about the soft lilt of your voice that makes him feel ashamed to even speak in your presence. There's something about your enticing eyes that makes him stutter and stumble with his own words, his grammar-police persona flying out the window. There's something about the sure sway of your hips that makes him want to avert his gaze and look more all the same time; like something sinful he shouldn't want but crave for anyway.

You're the kind of woman that makes Sim Jaeyun nervous.

Park Jongseong's cousin from the States that always comes to visit for summer, with that bold show of your body that'll usually often get frowned upon in his neighbourhood, that honey tint of your skin that's far from the local society's beauty standard. You're upfront and so unapologetically you, something he admires and makes him overly conscious if his hair looks nice or not.

It's another summer and you're here again. You're always a welcome addition to their annual trip to Jay's beach house, a road trip that's usually joined by the other five plus you and him. But this year, Nishimura Riki had a last minute decision to cancel his flight to Japan and opted to spend the summer with them instead of with his family.

Which leaves all of you with no space for one person inside Jay's SUV.

"I call dibs on the rear seats," Heeseung says before anyone gets the chance to and disappears into the car. Riki opens his mouth, about to follow the eldest of the group, when Jungwon shoots him a sharp look and blocks his way with his hand.

"No, Riki. You're not getting a seat."

Riki's face morphs into horror. "What?! Am I excluded from this trip?"

"You cancelled your flight this morning. You were never included in the trip."

Seeing the look of hurt on his face, Sunoo actually takes pity on Riki. Peering inside, the blonde mumbles with a pout when he sees a small ice box sitting beside Heeseung. "Surely we can squeeze him into the rear seat, right…?"

"All of his six-feet-one ass? I'd like to see you try, Sunoo hyung." Jungwon shakes his head. He leans on the passenger door, already the assigned co-pilot of the car, in charge of Spotify playlist and Waze and moral support to his Jay hyung. "Either one of you sits in another's lap, or we can Uber Riki to the beach house."

Hearing that, Riki immediately throws his hands. "It's a two-hour drive, hyung, I might just be paying for the Uber's car loan! It's gonna be so expensive!"

"If you can afford cancelling your flight with no refunds, then I think you can afford an Uber to Sokcho."

Riki whips his head to his Sunoo and Jake hyung, jutting out his lips in a pout that's borderline pitiful. Jake mirrors his expression, not really having the power to go against Jungwon's verdict—as if anybody could. Jake pities him, really, but it's Yang Jungwon. There's a whole menace behind those cute dimples and boba eyes.

Beside him, Sunghoon lets out a long sigh. "Then one of us will have to sit in another's lap."

It's an option that has everybody darting their eyes around, afraid that any eye contact with Jungwon will make them become the sacrificial thighs for the two-hour road trip. They're all men packed with mass and muscles, a result of a gym routine that unexpectedly becomes a problem today. Each of them at least weighs one hundred-forty pounds. Jake's sure that if he was chosen, he'd lose his legs by the time they exit Seoul.

Just in time, a loud thud is heard from the car boot. You and Jay walk into the scene, just having finished loading all of their stuff into the car. Jake adjusts his glasses instinctively, unknowingly fixing his appearence when his eyes land on you.

You've abandoned your cardigan, now only wearing a yellow camisole top that only reaches your belly button and a pair of jeans shorts that ends at the bottom swell of your ass. Your outfit choice hides nothing about your figure—your perfect body that admittedly has always been on his mind.

Jake gulps and lets his eyes trail down to your legs. You're seriously one of the most beautiful and hottest girls he's ever seen, and unfortunately, he has a severe problem of having a crush on baddies who are completely out of his nerdy league. You're definitely one of them.

When he looks up, Jake almost faints when your gaze catches his eyes with an unreadable expression. He quickly averts his eyes, adjusting the thick black rims of his glasses that didn't need adjusting.

Did you notice him staring?

"Car seat problem?" Jay asks when he senses the tension among the boys, already foreseeing this issue the moment Riki told him that he was joining their road trip over the phone this morning. They hesitantly nod.

"So what's the solution?"

"Riki takes an Uber to Sokcho—"

"Which will cost him his tuition fees," Jay comments, ever the hyperbole-user.

"—Or someone has to sit in another's lap."

Judging from the expression on Jay's face, he, too, doesn't think it's a comfortable position to be sitting in on a two-hour road trip.

But apparently, someone thinks otherwise.

"Oh, then let's do that!" You pipe in, flashing them with your charming smile. "I don't mind doing it!"

There's an elephant silence that follows your statement. Upon seeing their gaped expression, your smile slowly dies down, unsure if you had said the right thing.

"…Or not."

"Or yes!" Riki interrupts, relief flooding his senses. His eyes lit up as he looks around at each one of his friends. "Guys, she's offered to sit in anyone's lap. We can do that, right?"

Jungwon narrows his eyes. "It's a two-hour drive."

Riki blinks nervously. "But noona wants it."

"Then let Y/N noona sit in your lap."

Now, there's a rosy blush blooming across Riki's cheeks. Jake frowns. Lucky bastard. "I-I mean—"

"Not him," you cut in, a small smile playing on your lips. Jake can feel the exact moment everyone holds their breath, as if the air pauses on its own accord and waits for the rest of your sentence. Either they're anticipating or dreading to be your exclusive seat in the car—he's not sure. He's certain that he's the former, but he's also certain you'd pick someone more your type—Sunghoon or Riki, who are loyal gym buddies that possess strong thighs for you to sit on—or even Heeseung who's abandoned his nap and is eavesdropping the conversation now.

He doesn't know why, but surely someone hot like you would pick someone just as hot, right? And hot in Sim Jaeyun's definition is someone who matches your confidence (not him), someone who has a good body and is not shy to show them (Jake thinks his body is nice, but he's also always wearing long-sleeves), or just anyone but him.

Jay pinches the bridge of his nose. "Then who?"

When your eyes meet Jake's, the brown-haired boy almost loses his breath.

A smile curves up your lips. Jake thinks he's hallucinating because there's no way you are smirking at him.

"With Jaeyun."

There's a ripple of gasps, disbelief and shock mixing with a hint of betrayal (no doubt from Riki). Jay's brow disappears behind his hair.

"Seriously, Y/N? You don't have to—Riki's rich enough to pay for the Uber."

Riki's protest is muffled when Jungwon pulls him into a chokehold and slaps a hand over his mouth. Jake wants to pity him, really, but this time he thinks he's the one who needs help because what do you mean? There's no way—

"I'm serious. Jaeyun-ah."

—Oh my fucking God. Jaeyun. Jaeyun. Who's Jaeyun? Who the fuck is Jaeyun?

Jake has a trouble hearing you over the loud roar of his blood, heart threatening to jump out of his throat. But he manages a small, airy, 'Hm?' when all eyes are on him.

You tilt your head slightly, eyes never letting go of his, holding him hostage in your gaze alone. This, paired with the way you call his government name—a name you prefer over Jake because 'it's cuter' (according to you, not him) when he first introduced himself to you four years ago, and Jake had let you because he could never say no to you—are the most perfect, never-before-seen formula to unravel the physics genius Sim Jaeyun.

Yeah. Jake is a goner. And will soon have a boner if no one stops you from picking him as today's sacrificial thighs.

"Can I sit with you, Jaeyunnie?"

Someone please say no. Someone please stop you. Someone please tell this Jaeyun to say no because—because why him? Is this some kind of a cliché ploy that popular girls do to play with men's feelings, especially a physics nerd like him? Because if it is, Jake hates to admit that he'd be a willing participant (even if it'd break his heart a little).

"Yes, sure," he squeaks, finally recognising that Jaeyun is his name. He's still trying to process that you chose him—not Sunghoon with his ridiculous broad shoulders, or Riki with his ridiculous long legs, or Heeseung with his ridiculous charm—but him, who's sweating buckets and dampening his armpits underneath his long-sleeved T-shirt. His glasses almost glide down his nose from how sticky it is.

"It's settled, then!" Sunoo claps once, already red and irritated from having to stand under the unforgiving sun for longer than necessary. "Jake hyung and Y/N will sit together. So I will be sitting with—"

"Me!"

"Me!"

Sunoo ignores Sunghoon and Riki, and walks straight to the rear seats. "With Heeseung hyung!"

Soon, there's shuffling and then everyone's already inside the car. Riki sits in the middle with a pout, a penalty for causing the minor disruption and losing rock-paper-scissors to Sunghoon and Jake. Sunghoon is happily humming to a song from the 80s, occassionally turning around to tease Sunoo who's been trying to join Heeseung in his mandatory road-trip nap. Jay and Jungwon have settled into their designated seats as the drivers of the day, already talking about the route they're taking and traffic condition. While Jake—well, he's preparing himself for the inevitable.

You're still standing by the door, overseeing the situation at hand, and Jake tries to ignore the way his cheeks burn under your weighted gaze.

"Can I sit now?" You softly ask. Jake hesitates a moment before nodding his head frantically.

"Y-Yes."

You, on the other hand, do not hesitate at all. Jake instinctively spreads his legs when you climb into the car, already aiming his lap as your throne for the next 120-minute of the ride. His senses heighten, overly aware of his friends' eyes watching his every move, and the soft scent of peach from your body wash that invades his nose when your weight finally settles on him.

In a split second, Jake goes from never daring to touch you to having you resting your ass comfortably on his clothed dick, thanks to a certain Japanese who's now queueing songs like he didn't just commit a fatal crime against his Aussie hyung.

His slightly longer thighs bracket your exposed ones in a hesitant cage, every point of your skin meeting his seems to burn through the fabric of his jeans. Your hair and neck are one breath away from his nose now, where he's inhaling lungfuls of peaches and creams and your vanilla-ish perfume, and Jake chooses to blink at the ceiling to avoid looking over your shoulders and possibly flashing himself with the swell of your chest under that thin camisole top. The already-cramped space feels even smaller, and Jake doesn't think he can breathe properly.

While at it, Jake hopes his prayers could break through the car roof and reach the heavens.

God, please have mercy on me and let my other head not have a brain of its own.

God answers him shortly in the form of you shifting around.

"You comfortable?" You ask innocently, adjusting yourself on his lap. Jake nearly inhales his tongue, feeling blood rush to his ears and south. A strangled noise escapes his throat instead.

"Mhm."

From the front, he can hear a snort coming from none other than Jay. "You sound constipated, dude."

'Try having a pretty girl sit on your dick then!', is what Jake wishes he could say to his friend, but he knows that this is more of a him-problem. Someone like Jay won't get flustered in this kind of situation—at least not as bad as he is, who doesn't even fucking know where to put his hands, hovering in the air like he's about to conduct a choral speaking.

So, Jake resorts to conveying his rage through the rearview mirror instead, hoping that his glare and frown are enough to make Jay feel bad. (They don't, Jay finds him cute instead).

Jungwon comes to save the day as he turns to the backseat. "Do you have everything with you?" All of them except Jake hum. He thinks he doesn't have his sanity anymore, but of course the younger boy pretends to ignore him.

Jungwon eyes each one of his friends, his gaze stopping longer at the sight of Jake gripping the leather seat, the white of his knuckles almost matching his face, and you smiling innocently at him. Jungwon badly wants to laugh.

Jake widens his eyes at Jungwon. Help me!

The younger boy gives him an indecipherable look before turning to face the front. "Alright. We're not turning back for you even if you forgot your PlayStation."

Jake wants to say that they might want to leave a certain Sim Jaeyun to save him from this misery, but all words are gone from his mind when the car starts forward with a sharp jolt. Your back meets his chest in a soft thud, punching air out of his lungs. Your ass pushes deeper into his lap and Jake nearly pierces the leather with his nails from how desperately hard he's gripping it.

"Oops, sorry!" Jay chimes from the driver seat, sounding far from sorry.

You straighten up and turn around, looking more sorry than your cousin. "You okay? Sorry about that, Jaeyunnie."

Oh, fuck. Please don't use that voice on him when he's one bump away from kissing your lips. You're so close it feels like you're breathing in the same air he exhales, so close he can see the faint, tiny freckles dusting your cheeks and the bridge of your nose.

"Yeah," he manages, voice hoarse like he's just swallowed a bucket of sand. "I'm okay."

There's a halt in your movement, like you're actually seeing him through the calm façade he's exuding. His breath catches when your eyes drop to his lips briefly, the bitten-red skin tingles under your heated gaze.

Then, after a moment, you smile at him so easily; as if the tension never existed, as if the pull was only one-sided.

"If you say so."

When he's met with your shiny hair again, Jake lets out a breath he unknowlingly held. Your voice fills up the space softly as you begin talking to Jungwon and Jay, all cheery and unrestrained while he's exerting mental training equivalent to physical labour of a building constructor to stop his dick from hardening every time you move.

He hears a snicker from his left and immediately meets with Riki's mischievous eyes. The younger boy mouths something that has Jake closing his eyes and leaning on the headrest in defeat.

'Don't get horny now, Jake hyung.'

Jake is worried that if it's not now, it'll be the next time Jay hits a bump.

Instead of a road bump, Jake's personal enemy turns out to be you.

Ten minutes in, everything is still going fine. Jake is still breathing, alive, and hasn't popped a boner that could traumatise you and get him banned from the car permanently. You also seem okay, still engrossed in a conversation with the cat-duo driving the car, talking about college and your winter trip to Japan.

For a moment, Jake selfishly thinks if his lap was that…sitable, seeing as you haven't shown any signs of discomfort yet. Or, to be fair, it has been barely ten minutes since they're en route, and though those minutes are enough to pull the others into a car nap, ten minutes feel like one round of orbit around the Sun when he has you sitting on his lap.

Jake can feel himself melt into the seat. Maybe this isn't so bad at all. Maybe he can make it to Sokcho without having to cut his dick off before anyone could see his hard-on. He just has to sit really quietly and will his mind to avoid teetering dangerous territory.

Yeap. Everything is fine.

Not until you decide to put your hands on his thighs.

Jake almost jolts at the contact, flexing his thighs instinctively when you place your perfectly manicured fingers on the surface of his jeans. It's a brief touch, one that can pass as accidental, but the lingering heat it leaves behind feels almost physical.

His eyes dart to the back of your head, trembling with nerves nearly frayed at the edges, gauging your reaction, and bites the bottom of his lips when you resume your conversation as if nothing happened. Or nothing really happened to you.

It's just a touch, for God's sake. Calm your dick down.

If a simple touch from you could unravel him this fast, what about other things? What if you hug him, or-or if you hold his hand, or—wait, is he wishing for other things to happen between you and him? (He does, but he knows that it won't happen.)

Jake gulps harshly and decides to enjoy the scenery instead. He stares hard out the window, so intense like he's memorising every species of the trees they pass by, mind lost in a whirlwind of horny thoughts clashing with rationality, when you do something again.

This time, it isn't an innocent touch on his thigh. It's an innocent move to hear Jungwon better. You lean forward, pushing your ass deeper into his lap simultaneously, offering your ear to Jungwon who seems to be sharing a secret about Jay. Jake's breath hitches and his hands almost come up to hold your waist, the friction sending heat through his body.

Fuck. He peels his eyes away from the window forcefully and follows down the dip of your spine to where your ass meets his crotch. Your position highlights the narrow of your waist and the width of your hips, all sinful curves that have him swallowing harder, something inside his pants threatening to stir alive. Jake closes his eyes.

Think of Jesus, Jake. Think of Layla. He absentmindedly fixes his glasses. Think of quantum physics. Think of—

"—Oh!" You squirm excitedly, round butt wiggling slightly against his cock. "Yes, I met her before!"

Jake hisses before he can stop himself, the sound serving like a knife cutting the conversation. You and Jungwon instantly turn to look at him, the latter wearing a mischievous expression when he sees the heat painting Jake's face red.

"Are you okay?" You prompt in concern, noticing how stiffly Jake is nodding at you.

"Y-Yeah. Good. I'm horgoony."

Freudian slip is gonna be the death of him.

Jay and Jungwon burst out laughing, catching the slip as fast as any dirty-minded man would. Jake's face turns a darker shade of red, avoiding your eyes whose brows now pinching in confusion.

"Horgoony?" You echo, pretty confident you have never heard of that strange word spoken before. Jake immediately shakes his head, panic creeping into his chest when Jungwon shows a sign of opening his mouth.

No! Do not let that orange cat speak! Jungwon only cares about his downfall!

"I feel horribly good! Yeah," Jake stammers, to hell with any logical reasoning. "Like, I feel good because we're on a road trip. But also kind of horrible because I get motion sickness sometimes."

Now that the string of the sentences has flowed out of his mouth, Jake thinks he is kind of making sense. Satisfaction blooms in his chest when you nod in understanding, because two conflicting emotions—feeling good and horrible—can exist simultaneously, right? Like the way he wants to push you from his lap and hide in the deepest part of the Sokcho forest forever but also craves to just grab your hips and pull you close and have his way with you—wait stop.

What a horrible, horny, nothing-good man you are, Sim Jaeyun.

"That does sound horrible." Jake snaps out of his thoughts when he registers your voice, nodding fervently to amplify the faux pity that he's just orchestrated.

You give him a sorry look, the one where it pulls the corners of your mouth down into a frown. Jake sighs in relief. You bought it. Thank God for his smart brain.

"Yeah. I think I'm just gonna take a nap," he adds, voice turning softer when you still look at him in concern. He feels a strange need to overexplain.

"Motion sickness happens because your eyes see one thing while your inner ears and muscles feel another. If I take a nap, it'll eliminate the visual stimuli that causes the conflict…" Jake trails off, catching himself before he could go on and on and on on why humans experience motion sickness, and possibly bore you to death. He shakes his head imperceptibly. "So—yeah. I should take a nap."

To his surprise, you only give him a warm smile. "I never knew that, Jaeyun. Then what's the correlation between motion sickness and playing your phone in a moving vehicle?"

Jake blinks behind his glasses, genuinely taken aback that you're actually listening instead of zoning out halfway through his rambling.

"Oh. Um." He clears his throat. "It's kind of the same concept. Your eyes are focused on something stationary—your phone—but your body still feels the movement of the car."

You hum softly, leaning back against him slightly, prompting him to continue. Jake immediately forgets how lungs work.

"S-So your brain gets confused because the signals don't match," he continues weakly. "Your eyes tell your brain you're sitting still, but your inner ears are like, 'No, we're moving.' It's like mixed signals, and our body doesn't like mixed signals."

His ears are warming up from how true the words are to the situation he's having with you.

"And right now you're seeing my stationary body while the car's moving," you continue with a subtle tilt of your mouth, "so you're nauseous and all dizzy now, right?"

Jake almost chokes to death. Did you know about his little problem? He blinks at you rapidly, hand itching to touch his glasses in a fit of nerves.

Oh my God. He's going to die. He's going to die and Jungwon will write 'Sim Jaeyun was a smart friend, died a horny man with a dick that never went down, a standing ovation to his contribution to Seoul National University' as his headstone epitaph. You know about it so Jake is going to die!

He stumbles with his own words. "I-I mean—It's actually—"

You give him a cheeky smile. "I'm just joking with you, Jaeyun. You're probably sick because you're having me on your lap like this."

You start digging into your front pocket, frowning when it's empty. Jake holds his breath when your hands move to your back pocket, looking for whatever it is that gets you so determined and his dick so excited whenever your finger brushes against his crotch. Jake is almost blue from not breathing.

He thinks this time he's really going to die.

"Found it!"

You offer your palm to him, where two mint candies sit idly on the soft surface. Jake's chest slowly feels lighter as air rushes in, no longer collapsing under the pressure of your searching hand accidentally brushing against him moments ago. He clears his throat.

You beam at him. "These will soothe your sickness, Jaeyunnie. Please take them."

Jake studies your face.

Do you know what you're doing to him? Was everything done on purpose, or are you really oblivious to everything?

He swallows and forces a nod, taking the candies from your palm, feeling a spark of electricity in his system when his fingers brush your skin.

"Thank you, Y/N."

You turn your back on him, resuming your conversation with Jungwon and Jay. All sweet and cotton candy, unaware of the turmoil he's going through. Jake stares at the candies in his hand, a mocking sign to his misery, and heaves out a quiet sigh. He glances at his wristwatch.

It feels like two world wars had happened but it's only been twenty minutes into the drive. An hour and forty minutes of horny torture remains for Sim Jaeyun to endure, and he's not sure if he's going to survive.

He slowly closes his eyes. Maybe sleep can help with horniness, too.

It does, but only for a moment, because Jake could swear he just blinked when you tap his shoulder a few times.

Jake blinks, half-groggy and half-alert. Did he have a wet dream of you and get hard in his unconsciousness? Is that why you woke him up?

But he's met with your apologetic face instead. "I'm sorry for waking you up," you whisper, trying not to wake other boys who are fast asleep. "But my back's sore. Can I lean on you for a moment?"

In a flash, all incoherent thoughts fly out the window. Guilt starts lodging in his chest as he realises—glancing at his watch—that you've been sitting straight for one hour. Before he knows it, Jake is already nodding at you, adjusting his seat to accommodate the new position.

"Y-Yes, you can."

God, he's such a loser. The word 'no' seems to disappear from his dictionary whenever you're around.

You reward him with an appreciative smile and waste no time to turn around and lean back softly on him. The moment your back touches his chest, Jake can feel his system kick start, a chemical reaction that he can never understand no matter how hard he studies Biology.

You physically relax into his chest. "This is so much better," you sigh, a dreamy smile on your face, resting your head in the crook of his neck. Then you tilt your head upwards to glance at him. "Is this okay for you?"

Jake hopes you can't feel how fast his heart is beating through the fabric of his shirt. The brown-haired boy nods wordlessly. "More than okay."

For a moment, you just stare at him, brilliant eyes holding his in a soft gaze. It's a silent minute full of everything unspoken, rendering him speechless and even more restless because no matter how smart he is, he could never decipher the meaning behind this look you're giving him. There's something you hide that he feels like he should know, like an open secret waiting for the right time for him to catch.

This time, Jake is even sure that you can hear his heartbeat.

Then, as if that moment never happened, you close your eyes and get comfortable.

"We should sleep, Jaeyun. Don't want you to get carsick again."

You nuzzle closer and Jake holds his breath, feeling the silky strands of your hair brushing against his jaw. His hands hover, not knowing where to land, though the pinch of your waist is where he wants to hold the most. Eventually, Jake settles on his thighs, watching the difference between his veiny hands and the smooth span of your thighs.

Is he still sleeping? Is he dreaming or are you really sleeping on his chest?

It seems that sitting in his lap really tired you out, because you're fast asleep in less than five minutes. The guilt in his chest amplifies at the sight of your closed eyes, breathing evening out as sleep overtakes your being. Jake bites his lips.

He's so shameless, napping to avoid getting turned on instead of caring for your being. He’s so horrible, worrying more about his hard-on than the fact that you’ve been uncomfortable for an hour. Jake wants to cry so bad.

Jake spends the rest of the ride watching you sleep. He fixes your hair when it falls over your face, tucking it behind your ear carefully, and then smiles to himself when he sees your pout. He blocks the sunlight with his hand when it's glaring on your skin through the window, not minding letting his hand redden from the harsh light. He instinctively holds your waist at a sharp turn, firm and secure, though he lets go just as fast as if it burns, afraid that it's not a touch you'd receive had you been conscious.

Other than the carnal desire he has suppressed for you, this road trip also makes him realise the depth of the feelings he actually harbours for you. He's so doomed. He's so doomed because in what universe would a hot, sweet, popular California girl like yourself, return back the feelings of a bland, studious, quiet Korean-Aussie boy like him?

In fictions. In another lifetime. But not in Sim Jaeyun's current universe right now.

However, the Sim Jaeyun in this universe also will never know peace.

Because just as he's getting comfortable with the you-watching routine that he just recently discovered, the road has another plan for him when Jay finally, and actually, hits a bump this time.

The first bump is a mild surprise. Jake gathers it's a small bump, one that Jay overlooks while getting excited over Bon Jovi playing on the rodeo. But the aftermath brings you settling deeper into him, pressing on him in a way that has his breath hitching. Jake holds your waist on instinct.

"Oh my God, I didn't see that," Jay mutters from the front.

Jake tries to steady his breath. That's…a shock. One that shatters the soft atmosphere he created while watching you, now replaced with the same tension he's been fighting the last hour.

Jake lets go of your waist when he assumes that it's just a one-time thing. But then the bump happens again, and instead of a solid, big one—it's shaky, like they're sliding through endless, tiny jagged rocks.

"Damn bro, this road needs fixing," Jay makes another commentary. He glances at the rearview mirror. "You good, Jake?"

Jake doesn't know what to answer. "I think I am," he mumbles, voice clipped.

Is it good that you're practically bouncing in his lap, adding more pressure with almost no interval for him to recover mentally? He thinks not. But Jay doesn't have to know that.

"We're almost there," Jungwon chimes in, navigating the map. There's a shakiness in his voice that comes from the vibration caused by the bumps. "Fifteen minutes at most. We found a shorter route just now and traffic was smooth."

Fifteen minutes.

Jake thinks he might actually die in fifteen minutes.

Another bump sends your body rocking against him softly, your sleeping face scrunching for a brief second before relaxing. His grip tightens.

Fuck.

If Jay doesn't stop the car and fix this damn road himself then he's definitely going to pop a boner soon.

Jake squeezes his eyes shut when another bump rattles through the car, and then again, and again, and again until Jake can barely separate one sensation from another anymore. Until he doesn't know where he starts and where you end anymore. You shift unconsciously, settling heavier against his chest before Jay hits another bump.

This time, Jake makes a mistake of looking down at you.

He didn't notice it before, too lost in his sappy, romantic feelings for you. But right now, it's actually so damn obvious that the angle from where he sits taller than you and you lean against him, he can easily see your cleavage past the neckline of your camisole.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The road doesn't stop shaking beneath the tires, and so does his pulse as he watches your breasts bounce with every bump that comes their way. Jake averts his eyes, so stiff and so strained, but can't help letting his gaze drift back to watch the soft mounds shake.

This is bad. This is very, very bad, and Jake is nothing but a bad fucking pervert.

A particularly rough patch of road sends the entire car jolting. Your body bounces against him harder this time, more pressure and more friction that Jake almost whimpers. He tips his head back, gulping harshly as the line of his long neck glistens with a sheen of sweat.

Inside his jeans, he can feel his cock kick.

Oh, fuck—he's definitely hard now.

Oh my fucking God.

"This is the last one, promise!"

Jake doesn't even register Jay's words, or the way your head hits his jaw from impact, because his internal system is flooded with horny-filled panic. He can feel it: his dick twitching and getting semi-hard from the continuous stimulation from your bouncing. He doesn't even realise that he's now clawing at his own thighs, seeking strength that could neutralise his blooming lust, or that you are finally awake.

"Are we almost there?" You ask groggily, blissfully unaware of the raging boner forming under your ass. You sit up when the coastal view greets your blurry vision, mouth gaping in awe.

"Oh, wow!" You gasp, always excited to visit Sokcho no matter how many times you've been there. "It's beautiful as always!"

The road is smooth now, but Jake's final torture arrives in the form of you bouncing, excitedly and consciously, in his lap. You wiggle in enthusiasm, urging Jungwon to pass your phone that's been charging at the front to take some pictures and send it to the family groupchat.

"Jungwon, Jaeyun, look at those seagulls!"

Jake is seeing no seagulls. He's only seeing white hot, painful pleasure as you move in his lap, his brain dissolving into useless static. His fingers twitch, itching to grab your waist and force you to stay still, but you're so excited that he almost didn't have the heart to do it.

"Did you see that?" You lean to the window, and then shift happily when you spot kites in the sky. "We should do that too! Hey, Jay, do you think you can—"

Jake finally has had enough.

The restraint that he's been holding onto finally breaks like a taut wire getting cut. His hands snap to your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, hips almost bucking up from the delicious friction alone. His lips drop to the shell of your ears, hot, ragged breath brushing the sensitive skin as his voice lowers an octave.

"Y/N," Jake licks his dry lips, the tip of his tongue peeking through. He watches with dark eyes as the hair on your neck stands straight under his unforgiving proximity.

"Stop fucking moving."

And that's the moment you feel it.

A bulge, hard and rigid and big, poking your ass from where you rest in his lap.

Oh my fucking God.

Sim Jaeyun is hard.

You freeze, breath hitching.

Neither of you dare to move. Not even your excitement of being back to your uncle's beach house, or Jay's questioning look from where you cut your sentence, can bring you to move. No.

You couldn't, not when Jake's hard dick is nudging at you right now, so tangible and unmistakably his.

The brown-haired boy is still panting in your ear, shooting tingles through your system. His grip on your waist is almost bruising, like he's trying very, very hard to hold back from overstepping lines that shouldn't be overstepped.

You hadn't meant for this to happen. Sure, Jake is fun to tease. That boy is all broken words and nervous glances whenever you're in his proximity, and it can't be helped when he blushes prettily too.

You just can't stop yourself from seeking his attention in your own way, because aside from being a pretty boy, Jake is also such a sweetheart and so, so smart. And in an age where intellligence is a scarcity, you absolutely adore smart guys.

Especially the one who isn't condescending and is actually eager to help people like him.

So, really—you hadn't meant for this to happen. Offering to become the one without a seat is a decision you made when you consider yourself to be lighter than most of the guys, but offering to sit in Jake's lap is definitely a decision born from personal bias. You kind of knew what it would cause—seeing how stiff and awkward Jake had been—but you let it go halfway through when the soreness in your back outweighs your desire to tease.

Which has now brought you to this situation.

The car's still moving like nothing happened, and the boys are slowly stirring to life one by one. Everything is normal, except for the nails digging into your waist and the deep timbre in your ear.

You swallow harshly, not daring to move. Jake is so close, so close that you can feel every movement of his chest. You sit still in his hold, trying not to wince from how hard he's gripping your hips, and how hot you find the situation is.

His dick, despite no movement is being made, only hardens further. Jake gasps almost imperceptibly, almost matching the way your breath leaves your mouth when you notice, again, just how big he is.

Fuck. Fuck, that's so hot. Sim Jaeyun is so hot and you can feel yourself slowly getting turned on.

Without any warning, as if driven by an invisible force that urges to look at him, you finally turn around.

And Jake looks absolutely wrecked.

Beads of sweat dot on his forehead, the furrow of his eyebrows showing restraint and constraint. His lips are red from how hard he's biting them, and his previously clean, smooth glasses are now fogged up and hazy. His eyes, glazed over with tamed lust, lock into yours, half-lidded and dark.

A breath catches in your throat.

This is not the Jaeyun you know.

Or, more accurately, this is not the Jaeyun he usually shows.

This is another side of him, like seeing Jake wearing short-sleeves and showing his arms for the first time. Gone are his round, puppy eyes, now replaced with this narrowed, slit gaze that makes you shiver under his heated stare. He used to be so nervous around you, and you can feel that he's nervous now, too, but his pent-up sexual frustration seems to outweigh any rational daily-Jake thoughts.

This is still Sim Jaeyun. Just a different, never-before-seen side of Sim Jaeyun.

"Are we finally there?" Riki, the last one to awaken, stretches beside the two of you. You don't even notice that the car has pulled up into the driveway of Jay's ridiculously huge beach house from how piercing Jake's gaze is holding your eyes captive now.

Jake bites his lips, the fog in his head slowly clearing up now that the car has stopped. As if snapping out of a daze, he quickly maneuvers you into Riki's lap instead, showcasing his strength that he often hides. The latter yelps at the sudden weight and grabs your waist on instinct, before Jake darts out of the car without looking back.

"Sim Jaeyun! Bring your own fucking luggage!" Jay shouts from the car boot, but the brown-haired boy has already disappeared behind the door.

You sit, stunned in silence, still frozen and unable to speak. Not until Riki nudges at you, Heeseung and Sunoo impatiently asking the both of you to move so that they can get out.

"Are you okay, noona? Is hyung okay?"

You nod. You give the youngest a strained smile as you slowly move out of his lap and out of the car, careful not to start another war of hormones.

"We're okay."

The lie tastes bitter on your tongue.

Jake is avoiding you.

It's a foreseeable aftermath. It's inevitable. But it pains you regardless.

It gets to the point where he straight up refuses sitting next to you at dinner, which raises some eyebrows and teasing from the boys. But you know better.

He is deliberately avoiding you.

It frustrates you, really. Because every summer, it is your thing with Jake to sit in silence in the morning and read at the porch, enjoying the sunrise over wordless, comfortable silence. But now he purposely sleeps in, waking up later than usual, leaving you alone in the cold of dawn, your paperback copy of The Inheritance Games left untouched on your thighs.

At movie nights, he'll be the last one to join, just to see where you sit first to avoid being near you. He'll become extra quiet when you speak, acting like the floor is more interesting than your face, not even sparing you a glance.

And your patience is wearing thin. Almost thinner than the bikini you're wearing right now.

Fine. He can ignore you all he wants, act like he didn't just pop a boner after letting you sit in his lap. He can pretend like you never affected him, pretend like nothing happened, but one thing you know is that Jake could never betray his attraction for you.

So, be fucking it. You don't care if it's petty to pick the skimpiest bikini you own today, the one in hot pink that always contours the line of your cleavage, perfectly bunching up your tits and making them look rounder. The one that you know will drive Jake crazy from how bouncy your ass looks, basically confirmed when his eyes can't seem to stop trailing after you even after you dive into the pool.

You come to the surface with a gaping mouth, letting the water slide down the lines on your body, and make no show of hiding yourself from looking straight at Jake.

That coward has the nerves to look away after staring at you like a touch-deprived teenager.

"Is Sim Jaeyun single?"

The reason why you always agree to join the all-boys road trip is because it's not exactly all-boys. There are girls who live nearby. Girls you're acquainted with from how often you follow your cousin to his beach house every summer. Spoiled rich girls whose parents come from the same tax bracket as your and Jay's family.

And one of those girls is shamelessly checking Jake out now, hungry eyes drinking in the way his wet, long-sleeved shirt sticks to his torso, outlining the faint lines of his abdomen that he never shows. She's sitting on the edge of the pool, feet-dipping while you take a break from your swim.

You narrow your eyes, an ugly spark of jealousy blooming in your chest. You don't like the implication of the question, and you absolutely hate the way she's looking at him now.

"Don't even think about it."

Your neighbour only shrugs and continues her eye-fucking. "He's so my type. So nerdy, so smart. I wonder how he'll look like without the glasses?"

You will poke her eyes before she gets the chance to. "Use your own imagination," you hiss, almost bitter when you realise that you also have barely seen him without his glasses.

Jake has sensitive eyes that react badly to contact lenses, which explains his preference for thick glasses than going out without them. Even now, when everyone is fooling around Jay's enormous pool, his thick, black-rimmed glasses perch on the bridge of his tall nose—the nose you hope you can put into good use one day.

The girl only hums, half-listening to you. She sighs dreamily. "I can't believe that I have his number."

At this point, the jealousy has turned so ugly you're actually seeing green. Or red. Or whatever that Cortis song sounds like. "You have his number?"

She finally pays attention to you. "Yeap! I asked him yesterday. I don't know what I should say to start the conversation though," she pouts, glancing back at Jake who's now sitting on the side with Sunghoon, sipping on coconut water. "Should I ask him if I can join dinner at your house tonight?"

Jake gave his number to her?

You grit your teeth. The hurt has materialised into a knife, twisting in your chest in a sharp pain disguised in jealousy. So, while Jake's been avoiding you like a fucking plague, he's been spending his time giving away his number to any curious girl? He's been talking with other girls while leaving you with radio silence, one that you didn't deserve because it was him who popped that boner?!

You are the one who's supposed to ignore him—not the other way around!

What a fucking loser.

You can't stop the bitterness from leaking through your voice when you finally speak.

"It's me and Jay that you should ask—not Sim Jaeyun. And no, you cannot join dinner at my house tonight."

You leave her dumbfounded by the pool, seething in anger that the water on your skin could steam from the heat alone. You march to the slide doors, giving Jake and Sunghoon the nastiest side-eye you could ever give when the latter calls out to you, and slam the door behind.

Whatever. Or not whatever. Sim Jaeyun is a fucking pervert and a jerk and a coward, and stupidly hot while being so oblivious to how hot he actually is. Whatever! You don't care.

You don't care that he barely speaks a word to you. You don't care that he leaves any room you walk into. You don't care that he's flirting with other girls and giving away his number willingly when you had his on default for being Jay's younger cousin, and from Jay himself at that.

The corner of your eyes burn.

You wish you didn't care.

You're ignoring Jake.

Jake knows this the moment you no longer come to the porch to read. Instead, every morning is now spent in the garden with Jungwon, tending to Jay's mom's flowers. After, you'll brew some hibiscus tea that you pluck from the garden and share it with Sunoo and Riki.

And when he walks into the kitchen to get some food, you no longer meet his eyes, or save that apple that he knows you know he likes to eat for breakfast. You let Heeseung eat all of them! It's so—so unfair, because he likes apples and you know it!

It sends Jake to the end of a cliff. Why are you suddenly being like this?

His sanity is stretching thin as he tries to work his brain. Why the sudden change? Is it because of his silence? But he's just embarrassed to face you! Or—did you find out about it?

Genuine horror floods his mind when he thinks, oh no, you must've realised how disgusting he truly is. How dirty-minded and perverted he is, that every day he has to take cold showers three times a day whenever he catches a glimpse of you.

You in your sleepwear. You in your casual shirt. You in shorts.

You in bikini.

Jake has fallen out of any point of salvation, because God, could any man get this horny just from a mere look? In the back of his mind, he knows it's the image of you sitting in his lap that ignited the beginning of his undoing, but the continuous hard-on he gets whenever he's around you is definitely, entirely on him.

And Jake, oh so sweet Jake, doesn't dare touch himself to the thought of you. No. He'd rather leave his balls blue, take cold showers every morning, every evening, and every night, and let his dick go from standing tall like a national anthem was being played to becoming flaccid under the cold water without any action. He doesn't even have the guts to touch his own fucking dick, the guilt blocking him from doing anything to relieve himself.

So—did you find out about it? Because if you did, then Jake could understand the cold shoulders you're giving him.

But Jake is a mere man—maybe a bit perverted, and a bit too horny despite his image, so he couldn't stop himself from getting hard the moment he sees you walking into the living room in nothing but an oversized white tee that falls off your shoulder. He grabs the nearest cushion and places it on top of his crotch, blood already rushing south when he sees the strap of your black bra.

This is why he has to go to church sometimes; to balance everything out. Because Einstein never talked about the solution or formula to cure men's (Jake's) sexual desires that seem endless. And sexual desires that come from seeing a strap of a bra alone.

Whatever it is, Jake's soul has almost left his body, already tuning out of his surroundings. He doesn't even realise that Jay and Riki are wrestling for the TV remote, and accidentally sending said remote flying onto the floor just a few feet away from him.

He only comes to when you stand in front of him, back facing him, and bend over to pick up the remote.

You. Bend. Over. In. Front. Of. Him.

In a second, Jake has a full view of your ass. The shirt rides up slightly, revealing white shorts that stretches across the round flesh as you bend over to reach the remote and Jake feels like he's brought back to the car when he was fighting demons as you unintentionally ground his crotch with every movement.

His grip on the cushion tightens, head dizzy from the way you practically shove your butt in his face.

Jake releases a shaky exhale.

He can see the outline of your panties and wonders if it matches your black bra.

And he can see the outline of his doomed future if he stays in the living room any longer.

"Whose turn is it to pick the movie?" You casually ask, now straightening up as if you just didn't flash Jake with your perky ass.

"Jake hyung," Jungwon replies from the center of the long couch, carding his hand through Sunoo's silky hair, the blonde who's now laying down his head on his lap. "It's his turn."

Your face remains expressionless as you turn to the glasses boy. But instead of taking the remote from your hand, Jake stands up, avoiding eye contact and clutching the cushion tight over his crotch.

"I-I suddenly feel sick! Gonna skip tonight's movie, bye!"

Then he flees the living room, leaving behind six confused men and one very angry, very upset girl.

Jake thinks he deserves a medal for surviving the living room.

Or perhaps an exorcism.

The moment his bedroom door clicks shut behind him, Jake drops the cushion onto the floor and drags both hands down his face with a groan. His glasses nearly fall off his nose in the process.

What the fuck is wrong with him?

He paces once across the room, then twice.

Outside, he can still hear the muffled sounds of the movie downstairs—Riki yelling dramatically at a character, Sunoo complaining about spoilers, Jay laughing too loudly. Normal sounds. Normal people.

Meanwhile Jake feels like he's one accidental glimpse of your shoulder away from committing a crime.

His eyes squeeze shut.

That white shirt.

The black bra strap.

The way you bent over in front of him so casually, completely unaware that Jake nearly ascended right there on Jay's living room couch.

"Fuck," he whispers weakly to himself.

Jake drops onto the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees.

Maybe he should take another cold shower. That would make four today.

"I should sleep," he mutters to himself, breath shaky. "S-Sleep can help with motion sickness and horniness."

With a newfound resolution, he turns off the lamp and settles under the blanket. His movement is stiff and awkward, overly aware of the tent straining his shorts. Once he pulls the blanket over his chest, Jake closes his eyes, forcing sleep into his system.

Only, the image of you swimming in your hot pink bikini flashes behind his eyelids.

"No, stop. Not that," he whispers, brows scrunching in protest. He shakes his head, as if physically removing the image away, and tries again.

This time, the image of you in his lap comes back, stripped down to heated skin and soft breaths, your body moving against his in ways that make his stomach twist.

His eyes fly open. The image is so clear and vivid, thanks to his photographic memory and insane imagination—the very thing that's been saving him in the academic department now serving as the tool that brings him to his downfall.

His cock twitches involuntarily.

"N-No," he pants, chest moving rapidly. He grips the edge of the blanket, knuckles turning white. "I—Stop—"

Then he remembers just now: you bent over, giving him a delicious access to his ass-shaped sufferings, and Jake almost whimpers from the flashback alone.

The room rises in temperature, the air conditioner doing nothing to tone down the feverish lust spreading through his body. Jake finally relents and discards the blanket, glasses all fogged up as he stares at the bulge under his shorts.

"I'm sorry," he whimpers, slipping off his shorts and boxers until they bunch up around his knees. "I'm so fucking sorry."

His cock springs free, standing tall in the dimness of his room. The tip glistens, already drooling with precum that shows no sign of stopping. With shaky hands, hesitance still edging around his lust, Jake finaly touches himself.

He has to bite down hard on his lips to muffle the sound threatening to escape. His hand stutters, the feeling of finally rubbing some relief after days of holding back comes crashing down on him. His head spins from how heavy his cock is in his hold, veins protuding like they're going to combust.

He slowly starts moving his hand, lathering up precum to ease the glide. His head tips back, a strangled sound catches behind his throat.

"Oh, God," his head spins, sparks of lust bursting at the tip of his fingers. "Oh, fuck—"

Through his hazy gaze of the blurry lenses, Jake tightens his grip slightly. A moan escapes his lips at the force, his cock only getting heavier in his hand. He plays with the mushroom tip of his dick, thumbing the slit and hissing when it sends pleasure up his spine.

"Ngh—" his eyes squeeze shut, brain putting up pieces of his memory of you. His body jerks when the rough pad of his thumb touches the underside of his cock, and as if on cue, the image of your jiggly breasts inside the car flashes behind his closed eyes.

"Fuck—Y/N," Jake sobs, picking up his pace. His wrist turns and flicks, biceps flexing hard at the speed he's going. Guilt starts accumulating inside his chest the more he thinks of you, of your voice, of your gaze, of your scent—but guilt isn't enough to stop Jake from chasing his own release.

"'So sorry," he chokes, letting go of his bottom lip, bitten-red and swollen. He imagines it was your hand instead of his, smaller and softer, with those manicured nails that he loves so much. How tiny your hand would look around his hard dick, trying to grip his length in its fully erect state.

Jake isn't inexpereinced. He's had his own fair share of sexcapades with a few people, and he's always been told that he's bigger than average. The big dick that he hides under his pants, further concealed by his nervous persona that only certain girls find cute.

But seeing his state right now, Jake thinks he's the furthest thing from cute.

He's pathetic.

Pathetic and gross and disgusting, feeling bad for jerking off to the thoughts of you but still unable to retract his hand and stop. The sound of his cries that he fails to hide fills up the space, and for the first time in days he's very glad that he won paper-rock-scissors during room assignment.

"Oh, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N," he chants, mouth gaping open when he can feel himself close. His wrist is already tired and numb from the relentless pace he's set, the slick sound of his sinful act matching the roar of his blood rushing in his ears.

"Please, please, 'm gonna cum," he sobs, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. His hips lift off the mattress. "Please—"

"Do not fucking cum, Sim Jaeyun."

Jake's entire body locks up.

His wrist stills immediately, pleasure crashing into horror so fast it makes his stomach twist. For a second, he genuinely thinks his heart stops beating.

The room goes dead silent except for his ragged breathing.

Through fogged-up lenses and teary eyes, Jake stares at you standing by the door, unable to process the fact that you're actually here.

That you heard him.

That you saw him.

Oh my fucking God.

His hand jerks away from himself like he’s been burned, chest heaving violently as he scrambles to sit up straighter. The blanket tangles around his legs from how abruptly he moves.

"I—"

Nothing comes out.

Jake has never felt this level of humiliation before.

Not when he failed his chemistry olympiad in tenth grade. Not when he tripped in front of his entire lecture hall. Not even when Jungwon found his hidden Pokémon card collection at nineteen.

This is worse. So much worse.

Because it's you.

You, standing there in that oversized white shirt slipping off your shoulder again, eyes dark and unreadable as you look at him sprawled across the bed like something shameful.

Jake feels sick. His face burns so hot he thinks he might actually pass out.

"S-Sorry," he chokes out instinctively, because apologising is the only thing his brain knows how to do right now. "I didn't—I wasn't—I—"

His voice cracks miserably.

Jake is going to cry.

What should he even say in this situation? Sorry that you caught him jerking off to you? Sorry that he's such a nerd, such a loser that the only time he could talk smoothly with you was when he was defining what motion sickness was, but never had the courage to tell you how much he likes you and how much you affect me? Sorry that he's such a pervert that he thinks of you in positions way too inappropriate to be just friends?

The weight of his arousal sits heavy against his thigh, a testament to a newfound, lifelong embarrassment that he'll carry to his grave.

Jake squirms under your heated gaze, and quickly covers his crotch with his blanket when you slip into his bedroom wordlessly. The door clicks shut, the sound amplified by the heavy silence hanging in the air. His body tenses up.

Oh my God—he messed up, didn't he? Jake hangs his head low in shame, tears gathering along his lashlines.

"I'm sorry—I didn't mean to…"

His vision turns blurry. Fuck, you must hate him now.

"I-It's wrong—I know that—I'm sorry—ah!"

Jake looks up in surprise when your bold hand cups his erection. There's angry lines in your forehead, a sneer on your mouth, but the nasty look you're giving him does nothing to soothe down his arousal.

If anything, twisted as it is—it turns him on even more.

"Couldn't even look me in the eye downstairs," you begin, "but you here you are, jerking off to me like I wouldn't find out?"

The venom in your voice hurts him. You're being mean with your words, and it hurts his feelings but Jake couldn't care less. His mind is a messy jumbles of guilt and pleasure and shame, so all he does is cry and shake his head.

"I-I'm sorry, Y/N—"

"Are you really sorry?" you tighten your grip on his cock, one knee dipping into the mattress. "Your dick doesn't seem sorry though."

Jake wants to cry—oh, he's already crying. His hand curls into the sheets beneath him, unable to form coherent words when you start rocking the heel of your palm on his hard-on. The friction from the blanket and the pressure from your hand only spark electric pleasure through his system.

Within seconds, Jake is all hard again—even harder than before.

"Tell me, Jaeyunnie. Did all of this happen because I sat in your lap?"

Jake whimpers pathetically. You knew. Of course you knew. You're not only hot and pretty and kind, you're also smart like him, so in tune with your surroundings. You're a little mean right now, but it's okay because Jake believes that he deserves this after avoiding you without any explanation.

"Answer me, Sim Jaeyun."

"Yes," he croaks, shame burning his face red. His eyes screw shut. The admission sets his being on fire, skin flushed from embarrassment. "O-Oh, God, y-yes."

He cracks one eye open when you don't reply. Instead, he's met with your fiery gaze. The edges have softened with lust, like you're also affected by this, but you're good at keeping your control.

Unlike him, who's unraveling like a loose thread under your touch alone.

Jake almost whines when you retract your hand, but the sound is muffled with a gasp when you yank the blanket open. He instinctively closes his crotch area with his hands, but you're fast to slap his wrists away.

"I'm so pissed off, Jaeyun," you mutter, swinging your leg over his thighs so now you're straddling him. You fix him with your sharp eyes, hand finding his dick again.

"You've been acting like we're strangers and it hurts me so bad."

Jake's mouth hangs open as you gather his precum and start working your wrist around his cock. His brain barely registers your words, too lost in a cloud of lust, but when he finally processes it, he desperately shakes his head.

He wants to apologise again and again and again, because he is truly sorry—he didn't know how affected you were. How could he not, when you're always described as everything out of his league, but he's always described as everything that doesn't fit your type?

"I'm sorry, I was just—fuck—just ashamed—" he gasps, hips bucking into your touch. "Didn't mean to—t-to hurt y—ngh, Y/N, faster please."

You coo at him, feigning sympathy as you set a ruthless pace on his cock. Jake is big—something that isn't a surprise anymore since that day you sat in his lap—but the sheer size of him is enough to make your mouth water and your panties damp.

Damn these nerdy boys. Acting all shy and innocent when they have this monstrousity hiding behind those ugly glasses.

"Faster? You wanna cum, Jaeyunnie?" you tilt your head. Jake nods frantically. "I don't think you deserve it, though. Why not ask from those girls you gave your number to?"

Something sharp twists in his stomach. Jake's eyes fly open, almost cowering when you give him a distasteful look. He grabs your arms desperately and shakes his head.

"N-No! She asked me first—" you put more pressure and Jake damn near loses his mind. "—said she needs—help—w-with Physi—cs—"

You roll your eyes. It's that easy to fool him? Can't he see the way those girls fuck him with their eyes? Without waiting for his sentence to finish, you sink down and take him in your mouth.

"Oh, fuck!" Jake screams, accidentally thrusting up his hips. He bites his lips, glasses crooked on the bridge of his nose as you take him deeper, tracing the line of his veins with your sinful tongue. "Oh, Y/N—please."

You hum around his length, tongue swirling as you hollow your cheeks to deepen the suction. Jake nearly busts from that alone, mind melting into a puddle of your name, the wet heat of your mouth serving as a better pleasure than his own hand.

You start bobbing your head up and down, marveling in the way the weight of his dick sits on your tongue. He's so big that you're so close to choking, but you don't care. You need to remind Jake how stupid he's been acting and how stupid he is if he thinks that you were not just as attracted toward him.

Jake sobs into his hands, hips jerking with every touch of his tip hitting the back of your throat. His head is getting dizzier, he can feel the coil in his stomach getting tighter and he knows that anytime soon, he will come undone on your skillful tongue.

But just as he's about to reach that high, you let go of him with a pop.

"No!" Jake whines, tears sliding down his cheeks. You're so mean. "P-Please let me cum."

"Not yet, nerdy boy." You mutter, red lips slick with saliva and precum. Jake can only sob, dick throbbing in need and desperation.

This is the punishment he deserves for being a jerk. He knows that, but he can't seem to stop crying. God, he's so pathetic.

Then he feels movement on his thighs. He blinks through the foggy lenses and lets out a breathless moan when you lift up your shirt and shorts and discard them away, leaving you in nothing but a pair of bra and panties. His mouth starts salivating at the display of your beautiful body, and Jake swears he almost cums when he sees that you're indeed wearing black panties.

Oh, fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Just as he imagined—God, you're so perfect he wants to kiss you.

But instead of a kiss, you push his at his chest instead. "Lie down."

And like the obedient puppy that he is, Jake follows your word, carefully descending his back onto the mattress. He's still sniffling from the previous denial, but now it's mixed with anticipation of what's to come when you hover above him.

You trace a gentle finger along the tall bridge of his nose, a barely-there touch that makes him shiver. With a slow tap on the tip of his nose, you finally speak.

"Did anyone ever ride your nose, Jaeyunnie?"

H-His nose?

Girls always compliment his nose, but he's never given it many thoughts as to why they did that. "N-No. Never."

There's a wicked smile on your face as you stand on your knees. Jake watches with a mouth gaping open as you make a show of shimmying down your panties, painfully and traitorously slowly that he almost rips it with his hand.

"Ah, what a shame," you sigh dreamily. "Guess I have to be the first one then."

Once your panties are out of the picture, Jake is instanly hit with a wave of your arousal. Your pussy glistens under the moonlight, soaked with slick and dripping with need. Jake inhales shakily, stopping himself from darting out his tongue to get a taste.

Fuck. He's sure he has actually died in the car and this is heaven because not even in his wildest dream did he get to have you like this.

Too lost in his reverie, Jake belatedly notices that you have removed his glasses. Despite your mean words and your mean actions, the caresses of your thumb on his cheeks are so gentle that he thinks he's hallucinating.

"You're so handsome, Jaeyun," you murmur. "But I bet you'll look better buried between my thighs."

You give him no time to recover from your crude words when you slowly move to straddle his head. Then, with a hand in his hair, you descend, letting the tip of his nose nudge at your clit.

And oh my fucking God—you smell so divine.

"Ah, Jaeyunnie," you moan, rocking your hips slowly to test the waters. "Your nose feels so good."

You sound even more divine. Jake's eyes roll to the back, savouring the way your sinful moans fall on his ears as you use his nose to get off. The bridge of his nose slides through your folds—wet and sticky and so sweet that he can't get enough of it.

Jake wraps his arms around your thighs to give you support, and another moan escapes your lips upon seeing his veiny arms around your supple skin. He stares at you through half-lidded eyes, groaning despite your cunt suffocating him, the vibration sending jolts of pleasure to your system.

"Ngh—Jaeyun—"

He can't breathe, and he can't hear properly from how hard you're clamping his head with your legs, but he can't deny that this is the best way to die. Being suffocated by your leaking pussy sounds like a dream death compared to dying in Jay's old SUV.

You keep your rhythm, rocking your hips back and forth, grinding your clit on his nose and dragging your folds on the tall bridge until the sharp tip of his nose catches at your hole. The grip you have in his hair hurts his scalp, but everything is worth the pain when Jake can watch you fall apart on his face, his own cock pulsing with a trembling need to cum.

"Ah—ah—Jaeyun oppa—"

Fuck. Fuck that sacred nickname.

The dynamics between you two often makes Jake forget the fact that he is indeed older than you. Coming from the States, it's uncommon for you to address people with such honorifics.

But right now, using that very honorific against him ignites something inside him; a carnal desire that's been thrumming low in his guts, waiting to be unleashed.

This time, Jake barely stops himself from stealing a taste. He darts out his tongue, prodding your hole with the tip, and hums in satisfaction when your stance falters slightly.

"Don't," you hiss, but there's no heat in it. Jake takes it as a sign to continue, licking more into your weeping cunt until your pace turns sloppy.

He doesn't care. You're probably gonna be so mad at him and punish him more, but whatever it is you have prepared can wait. Right now, Jake is having the best pussy of his life—barely breathing but still eating so, so fucking well.

"Jaeyun—stop—"

"No," Jake protests when you try to get up, pulling you down until the full weight of your body rests on his face.

Oh God, choking on pussy has never felt so good.

"Sim Jaeyun!" You squirm, feeling the stirring inside your belly getting wilder. Despite your weak attempts, your hips keeps grinding on his nose, showing no signs of stopping. You throw your head back.

You knew his nose would be the best thing to ride on, but hearing the slurps of your slick and his saliva—the sinful noises of him feasting on your cunt—makes you almost regret not letting him eat you out first.

"Ngh—Jaeyun—I'm close—"

Jake pulls your hips harder, letting you grind your clit on the tip of his nose as his tongue pushes into your hole mercilessly. You let out a high-pitched scream, muscles pulling tight at his ministrations. The double stimulations are fast pushing you over the edge.

Soon, white hot pleasure crashes into you, your vision turning black momentarily. It's so blurry and messy that you haven't realised that you've been screaming his name raw, hips unrelenting to chase the high. Jake swallows every drop of your sweet nectar, moaning into your spasming hole as he licks it clean.

Fuck. He's already desperate to have another round.

When you come down from your orgasm, hair matted to your forehead, you look down at him furiously.

"Let me go! I told you not to do it!" You attempt to sit up, but Jake doesn't let go, shaking his head with a pout. His nose and chin are drenched with your release, it's so sinful and filthy and you can't lie that you like seeing him so wrecked and fucked over like this.

"Can I have more? Please," he begs, kissing your inner thigh unhurriedly. He's already so addicted to the taste of you, Jake thinks he's gonna die if he doesn't have another fill. "I'll be so good to you, Y/N. Wanna eat you out so bad."

You grit your teeth, pushing away the temptation to save your pride. "No. Get up, Jaeyun."

But Jake is stubborn. He's so desperate to have more of you that he doesn't mind if he's leaving his own cock neglected and balls blue. "Please, I need it bad," he nudges at your pussy with his finger, pupils blown wide at the strings of sticky cum decorating your folds. "Fuck, please, Y/N, I want to eat you out."

"I said get up, Jaeyun."

"Y/N—"

"Jake."

The sharpness in your voice cuts through the haze instantly.

Jake stills immediately.

The desperation in his eyes flickers into something softer, more uncertain, like a scolded puppy finally realising he’s crossed a line. His grip on your thighs loosens at once, chest rising and falling hard beneath you.

The sound of his English name on your tongue feels foreign and almost painful, because it lacks the usual warmth and intimacy that your 'Jaeyun' usually holds. Yet, something inside him pulses harder, liking the change more than he'd like to admit.

“S-Sorry,” he whispers automatically, voice rough. “I just…”

He doesn’t even know how to explain it. How could he? That hearing you moan his name made him lose every coherent thought in his brain? That he’s spent days trying to stay away from you only to end up here, beneath you, completely ruined anyway?

You study him for a long moment before finally shifting off his face.

“Sit up.”

Jake obeys instantly.

The movement is clumsy and needy. His hair is a mess, lips swollen, face still flushed from lack of oxygen and desire. Without his glasses, his eyes look unbearably open like this—too honest, too vulnerable.

You cup his jaw gently, the touch losing its cruelty. Jake melts into it.

"There he is," you murmur softly, fixing his bangs that are obscuring his eyesight.

Jake can feel his heart stutter traitorously. This version of you—tender and sweet—a glimpse of the usual-you, is always more dangerous than any teasing.

Wordlessly, you tug at his shirt, and Jake obediently holds up his arms to let you peel away the fabric. Your eyes flick downward, amusement tugging at your lips.

"You know," you start, fingers trailing slowly down his sculpted chest, "for someone who acted terrified of touching me in the car…"

He groans softly, already embarrassed.

"…You were pretty damn desperate down there, Jaeyun."

His face burns hotter. Fine, he's just a touch-starved man, desperate for you in every way possible. But how could he not? Have you even looked at yourself?

"I-I can't help it…" His eyes drop to your lips. "You tasted so good."

A breathy chuckle escapes you, quiet and fond. But to Jake's ears, he's already hearing the wedding bells chime.

And suddenly the humiliation twisting in his chest eases into something warmer when you climb into his lap again, turning slowly until your back presses against his chest.

The exact same position. That fucking position in the car that has his mind on an endless frenzy that he thinks he was genuinely getting crazy.

Jake goes completely still beneath you.

“Oh,” you whisper, settling against him deliberately. “Now you’re quiet again?”

His hands hover uncertainly near your hips, like he still can’t believe he’s allowed to touch you.

“You’re mean,” he mumbles weakly against your shoulder. You laugh, one hand patting his hair as the other one aligning his neglected cock on your entrance.

"But I know you like it, Jaeyunnie."

At the same time you presses on the nickname, you sink onto his cock slowly, letting the bulbous head of his length spear you open.

The both of you moan simultaneously. Jake's hands find puchase on your waist, trying his best to stop from manhandling you to just fucking bounce on his dick and letting you adjust. You, on the other hand, let the stretch burn, your walls spasming to accommodate his length.

"S-So big," you stutter, taking him inch by inch. Jake drops his head on your shoulder, his own breathing ragged. "So—full—"

When he finally fits inside you to the brim, you let out a long, drawn-out moan. He fills you up so good that you can feel every vein against your walls, every pulse kissing your insides. It's a dizzying experience that prompts you to start moving your hips.

Jake’s fingers dig into your waist, trembling.

Not because he wants to stop you.

Because he’s trying so hard not to lose himself completely.

The position alone is enough to send him spiraling—your back against his chest, your body in his lap exactly like the car ride, except now there’s no seatbelt digging into his side, no boys teasing from the front seat, no restraint left between the two of you.

Just you and him.

And the devastating realisation that you wanted him too.

Jake lets out a broken sound against your shoulder when you move again, his forehead falling against your skin. His entire body feels feverish, overwhelmed by too much sensation and too many emotions crashing into him at once.

"Wasn't this what got you so hard, Jaeyunnie?" You pant between breathless moans. "Me in your lap, bouncing on your cock like this?"

"Ngh—" A strangled noise escapes his throat. Jake watches with bated breath as your hands find the clasp of your bra and finally let the two soft mounds free. Now, he badly wants you to turn around, eager to relive the scene of your bouncy breasts in Jay's car.

"Did you not—ah—crave this?"

You arch your back, pleasure tingling every nerves as his cock drags against your walls. Jake feels his dick throb inside your hole, the same position that ruined him now had him completely at your mercy.

"S-So tight," he whimpers, mouth falling open at the way you clench around his cock and roll your hips. "S-So fucking tight, Y/N, fuck."

Jake clings onto you desperately, bucking his hips to chase your movement. But you hold down a firm hand on his thigh, completely in charge.

"Don't," you warn, grinding down on him in a way that makes your ass ripple. "Or I'll get up and leave."

Jake freezes instantly.

The warning slices straight through him, sharp and effective. His hands tighten on your waist, but he forces his hips back against the mattress despite every instinct screaming at him to chase you harder.

“O-Okay,” he breathes quickly. “Okay. Sorry.”

God, he sounds wrecked.

You can feel the way his thighs tremble beneath yours, the strain in his breathing every time you move your hips slowly against him. Jake drops his forehead between your shoulder blades with a weak groan, like simply holding himself back is physically painful.

"I'm still mad at you," you murmur. You roll your hips again, faster this time, and Jake nearly whimpers into your shoulder. His jaw clenches so hard he might pop a vessel.

"Are you sure you're not the one—" you moan, your thighs burning from how fast you're exerting yourself. The wet sound of skin hitting skin starts getting louder the harder you slam down your hips. "The one who's being—mean?"

Jake sobs into your skin, half-regretting, half-dizzy. The tight heat of your cunt pulses and flutters around his dick and he genuinely feels horrible for only thinking using his other head now.

Even so, he still manages to apologise again. "I'm s-sorry—"

You clench around him on purpose. Jake digs his nails deeper. "Fuck—"

"Stop fucking apologising," you seethe, voice trembling as you feel your release getting near. "Delete her number or I'll sit in Sunghoon's lap when we get back to Seoul."

There's no bite in your threat. It's just a spur-of-the-moment kind of things, one that you say just to rile him up.

But Jake takes your words like a verdict. He snakes an arm around your waist, lips worshipping your skin in desperate, wet kisses.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, darling," he begs, tears clinging to his lashes. He bites his lips in an attempt to stop himself from moaning because he's so, so close. "I will block her. Fuck—I will delete her number. P-Please don't sit with S-Sunghoon—"

His speech is interrupted by a high-pitched whine. Jake hasn't come all night, he's nothing more than a thread waiting to snap. The moment you bounce harder and faster, the supple skin of your butt jiggling wilder, Jake can feel that he's about to come.

"Y/N—ah—p-puh—lease—" he whimpers, voice scratching at his throat. "'M close, 'm g-gonna cum—"

But he should've known that you're so, so mean.

The moment you lift off his cock, Jake genuinely sobs out loud, thrashing under you.

"No! No, please—" he chokes, hiding his crying face behind his hands, too shattered when his orgasm being denied again. "Please, no—I wanna cum, please."

You turn around and the sight of him—red-faced, wet cheeks, lips trembling—it softens your heart. You quickly pull his wrists and rest his hands on your hips, your own cupping his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, baby," you shush him, blowing kisses to the tip of his nose as you take him again. Jake whimpers quietly. "I'm so sorry—I'll let you cum this time, hm?"

Jake weakly nods, then lets out a soft moan at the familiar feeling of your walls enveloping him. You move again, already sore, but you no longer have it in you to torture your poor, poor Jaeyun. This time, you immediately begin with a fast pace, giving him a show of your tits bouncing with every thrust.

"Ah—fuck—Jaeyunnie—" you bite your lips, expression so erotic that it has the brown-haired boy drooling. "Glasses—like you better with glasses."

Jake is too dazed to register your words, so you pick the glasses on your own and put them on him. And there he is—your sweet, sweet boy, your Jaeyunnie that you adore so much, your Jaeyun that thinks it's bad for wanting you this much.

"S-So—handsome, Jaeyunnie," you roll your hips, chest arching into his face. "My nerdy boy, you're mine, hm?"

Jake physically cannot take it anymore. The sight of you on top of him, bouncing on his cock like your life depends on it, putting on his glasses and calling him yours—it's too much for Sim Jaeyun who's never been given this kind of attention and affection.

Especially from you.

His lips move, but you can barely hear him.

"Hm? What did you say?"

"I said I'm sorry, Y/N," his nails dig into your waist. "I'm so fucking sorry, please don't be mad at me."

Your brows furrow in confusion, but before you know it, Jake is already flipping you around, changing your position in one swift movement. You have half a second to gain your breath before the boy hovering over you pulls you closer by your ankles and throws your legs over his shoulders.

"I'm s-sorry," Jake stutters, slipping his dick back into your cunt and starts thrusting fast. "I-I can't hold it anymore."

Despite the showcase of his strength, Jake looks absolutely ruined. There's a flicker of guilt in his eyes, but from the pace he's railing you, you know that his lust ovverrides whatever little guilt he has.

Soon enough, the air smells so thickly of sex. The sound of his balls slapping your ass, accompanied by your high-pitched moans and his groans are the only one filling up the space, to the point that you're sure one of the boys must've heard you.

It's so hot and filthy that Jake's glasses are all fogged up again. His grip on your waist is now leaving bruises, but you don't care because all you can think of is Jake, Jake's big cock, Jake's stupid glasses and just Jake, Jake, Jake.

"F-f-f-fuck," he exhales shakily, splitting you open with his cock. "I-I'm so—close—"

You thrash around, fisting the sheets until it tears from the force of your nails. "Jaeyun—" you gasp when he keeps abusing that spot that has you seeing stars. "Oh, fuck—Jaeyun—harder—"

Jake leans forward, straining his arms on either side of your head. His glasses slide down his slick nose slightly when he bends down to capture your lips in his thick ones. You both moan into the kiss, finally getting the taste of each other, tongues already clashing for more.

Jake licks into your mouth, hips never faltering, and sucks on your bottom lip. You whimper, the sensation becoming too much until you're just breathing against his lips, all heat and teeth and saliva. Jake groans.

"I-I'm gonna—cum—" he gasps against your mouth, face scrunching in pleasure when you clench around him. "O-Oh my fucking God, Y/N, fuck—please let me cum inside."

His hands find your waist again, thrusting harder than before. His head drops to your shoulder as he begs, again and again.

"P-Please let me cum inside, please," he whimpers, voice needy and whiny. "Please—I'm gonna—I wanna—"

"Just cum," you moan when his teeth scrape against your skin. "Jae—Jaeyunnie—"

Jake groans. With last few, deliberate thrusts, he finally cums—a full-body orgasm that has him shuddering, his cock spurting out rope after thick rope of his release, painting your walls white.

You follow him just a second after, vision blurring for a moment as your second orgasm rips through your body. Your mouth falls open on a silent scream, eyes rolling back from how delicious your climax is.

Jake takes a long moment breathing into your ear, grinding his hips slowly before he's finally pulling out. He hisses as he drags out his cock, careful not to overstimulate you, and watches in awe as white fluid flowing out of your pulsing cunt.

"Oh my fucking God."

You breathe out a laugh, sounding breathless and disbelieving. Seeing Jake sitting still by your legs, you open your arms toward him.

"C'mere, Jaeyunnie. Let's cuddle for a moment before washing up—I'm too sore to walk."

Jake perks up at that. Gone is the hungry, lust-driven boy a few moments ago, now replaced with the shy, kicked puppy holding his tail between his legs.

"Cuddle?" he echoes, unsure. "Are you not mad at me?"

"I could never be mad at you for too long," you reply, giving him a reassuring smile.

It gives Jake a flicker of hope. He scoots closer, still cautious and observing, like approaching a scared animal.

"But I avoided you…"

You drop your arms and pretend to think, making a show of tapping your chin with a finger.

"You're right. You were mean for that. Why don't you carry me to the bathroom and clean me up so we can cuddle afterwards?"

Hearing that, Jake finally relaxes, his tight muscles loosening. With an eager smile, he scoops an arm under your knees and your back, and then lifts you up easily as if you weigh nothing.

"Your wish is my command, my princess."

The next morning, you receive knowing looks from the boys. There are lingering stares on your neck from where Jake was mauling your skin last night, but you have no problem showing them off.

Jake, on the other hand, is on the edge of another breakdown.

"So, Jake," Jay starts, already planning a mischievous teasing inside his head. "How did it feel like to get railed—"

"I did not get railed!" he squeaks, ears blushing red. "I-I was the one who railed her! Right, Y/N?"

There's a laugh bubbling inside your chest as you watch Jake squirm under the relentless teasing of his friends. It felt good to be the one in charge, but after that display of strength and the way he manhandled you last night?

You don't mind having him on top of you.

But the both of you know who's truly in charge.

And if you choose to sit in his lap again, this time grinding and shifting on purpose that he gets hard until the car reaches Seoul, nobody has to know that.

Well, maybe Riki knows. But who cares.

wow okay

permanent taglist: @kristynaaah @seungiesdoll @in-somnias-world @rikismists @loviseamms @ikeupop @k3nza @heezeunx @ot7archives @petulapetula

dividers from: @/diviniyae

[lac4ygal]

PROOF IN 4K ⋆˙⟡ ── 박종성 18+

1259 ──ᝰ. rough/dom jay consensual filming praise/‎ degradation multiple orgasms strong language

(박종성) x 𝒻 rea ⤷ established ‎ relationship ✶⋆.˚ ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛꜱ

🍵 laceys note ; this is pure smut, jay is rough and dom but its hot also second post tonight #feelingactive 😝 hope you all enjoys lovelies!!!

The bedroom was bathed in a soft, amber glow from the ring light Jay had meticulously positioned in the corner, casting perfect shadows across the rumpled silk sheets and the tripod-mounted phone that blinked its red recording light to life.

“Yeah, take it baby,” Jay growled, his voice low and rough with unrestrained hunger, his large hands gripping your hips with bruising force as he held you impaled deep on his cock.

The stretch burned exquisitely, your walls fluttering desperately around every thick, veined inch of him, the sheer size of him splitting you open in the most delicious way.

You were positioned in reverse cowgirl for the camera, your body arched beautifully, ass bouncing hypnotically with each brutal thrust upward, tits spilling out of the lace bra you’d worn just for him, face turned just enough to capture your parted lips gasping his name in the frame.

No one ever suspected this side of Jay.

To the world—especially your friend group—he was the epitome of sweet, loving perfection.

The boyfriend who held doors open without fail, sent good morning texts with heart emojis every single day, baked chocolate chip cookies from scratch on rainy afternoons when you were stressed about midterms, and always had a gentle hand on your lower back during group hangouts.

Girls in your circle sighed enviously over his arm-candy status, whispering doubts behind cupped hands like:

“Jay? Rough in bed? No way—he’s too soft.”

He’d laugh it off in public, dimples flashing innocently, but in private, the switch flipped like a thunderclap.

You knew the truth.

God, did he fuck you good.

Tonight, he wanted proof—irrefutable, filmed evidence to shut down the doubters forever.

“Gonna record how I ruin my pretty little girl,” he’d murmured earlier that evening, his lips brushing your neck in that deceptively soft way before the grip on your waist turned possessive.

“Next time someone questions if I can handle you proper, I’ll show them exactly how you scream for me.”

Now, his hips snapped up with brutal precision—cock slamming deep into you over and over and over, balls slapping against your ass with wet smack-smack-smack that echoed through the room.

“Look at that greedy pussy,” Jay rasped, voice dripping, one hand sliding up your spine to fist your hair and yank your head back, forcing you to arch even deeper for the camera.

“Gripping my cock so fucking tight, creaming all over it already. You were made for this—made to take every inch like the perfect slut you are for me.”

The dirtiness of it all stoked fire in your core as cream frothed at the base of his shaft, glossy and obscene, your thighs quaking uncontrollably from the relentless pace.

Your fingers flew to your clit, circling viciously to chase the sparks, moans tearing from your throat, so desperate.

Jay sat up suddenly behind you, his abs flexing against your back as his arms wrapped around your waist like steel bands.

In one fluid, powerful motion, he flipped your positions—seamless and commanding—laying you out in missionary with your legs and ankles-by-ears, knees pressed to the mattress beside your head.

The camera auto-zoomed perfectly, capturing the close-up of your face now: eyes glassy and blown wide with lust, lips swollen and bitten red, drool slicking your chin from the intensity.

“Tell the fucking camera who owns this pussy,” he commanded, thrusting slow and deliberate now—dragging every ridged inch of himself out to the tip before slamming back in, the head kissing your cervix with that sweet-sting burn that made stars burst behind your eyelids.

“You—fuck, Jay, only you,” you sobbed, arching off the bed as nails raked down his chest, leaving angry red trails that bloomed instantly.

“Ruin me, please—fuck me stupid.”

“Good fucking girl,” he praised, voice gravelly with approval, pace exploding into wreckage—hips pistoning with pornographic force, slam-slam-slam shaking the bedframe against the wall in rhythmic bangs.

One hand pinned both your wrists overhead in an iron grip, the other diving between your legs to thumb your clit in brutal, unrelenting circles.

“Cum for me right now—soak my cock like the messy slut you are. Show the camera how you gush when I fuck you deep.”

Your first orgasm hit explosively, vision whiting out completely as your walls convulsed in violent spasms, milking him while a gush jetted across his abs in endless, drenching spurts.

Your scream ripped raw from your throat—“Jay—oh God, Jay!”—thighs clamping like a vise around his waist, cream frothing into a puddle on the sheets beneath you.

But Jay didn’t stop.

He never did.

“That’s one,” he growled, eyes dark and feral, cock still buried deep and thrusting through your spasms without mercy.

“Gonna make you cum again—over and over until you’re crying, until this pussy’s ruined for anyone else.”

The overstimulation was immediate and merciless—your clit throbbing under his thumb, nerves screaming as he fucked into you harder, deeper, the wet schlick-schlick-schlick of your combined arousal filling the room obscenely.

“Feel that? Still so tight, squeezing me like you can’t get enough. Dirty little thing—love when I do this, don’t you? Begging for my cock even when you’re shaking.”

Tears pricked your eyes from the intensity, pleasure-pain blurring as a second orgasm built viciously fast.

“Jay—too much—fuck, please—” But your hips bucked up desperate anyway, chasing it, walls fluttering wildly around him.

“Too much? Nah, baby— take it so good,” he taunted, releasing your wrists to grab your throat—not choking, just holding firm, thumb stroking your pulse possessively.

“Cum again. Drench me. Let the camera see how I break my pretty girl.”

His free hand pinched your nipple viciously, twisting just enough to spark lightning down your spine. The second climax crashed harder—body seizing, another squirt soaking his pelvis and the sheets, scream hoarse and broken as overstimulation tore you apart.

Jay groaned guttural, pace faltering but never stopping, feeding off of your destruction.

He flipped you again without pulling out—rough hands manhandling you onto all fours, ass up high for the camera’s perfect view.

“Look at this ass,” he rasped, spanking hard—crack—red handprint blooming instant. “Bouncing so pretty while I fuck you raw. Who’s my good girl? Say it.”

“Me—your good girl—fuck, Jay!” you wailed, pushing back to impale yourself deeper, the angle hitting that spot relentless now.

Overstimulation made every thrust electric and almost like torture—clit throbbing, nerves fried, hot tears streaming freely down your flushed cheeks.

Jay leaned over your back, chest to spine, one hand fisting your hair to yank your head toward the camera. “Smile for it, baby—show how wrecked you are.” His thrusts turned punishing—snap-snap-snap—balls slapping your clit with each brutal drive.

“Third one’s coming—feel it building? Gonna squirt all over my cock again, aren’t you? Filthy fucking mess for me.”

You shattered then for the third time—convulsing violently, squirt spraying once again back to drench his thighs, scream devolving to sobs as overstimulation peaked to almost unbearable.

Jay finally chased his own end— he groaned animalistic from his chest, hips stuttering as he flooded you deep with thick, hot ropes, pulse after endless pulse, grinding to milk every drop into your spasming walls.

“Take it all—fuck, perfect pussy—mine—”

He collapsed over you panting, cock softening now so intimate as hs still buried in you, his kisses trailed your shoulder blades soft now, contrast to the ruin.

The camera rolled on forty-two minutes of pure destruction.

Jay reached lazy, ending the recording with a satisfied swipe.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, stroking your hair tenderly, rolling you into his chest for aftercare.

“My pretty girl—fucked so good. Love you.”

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ perm 𝓉𝒶𝑔list. @kristynaaah @yuudaiinhs @urlocalengene @woninlove @n4n4files @jimineepaboya @grdientlips @hooniluhv @afanok @engenewilstaykon @yumi-yearns @seungiesdoll @vivienne2000 @rinforu @isa942572 @ride-a-nishimura @florarua @baedreamverse @softblaqn @rikisloverrr @kittyvalr @ellushic @dimples264493 @kimmm02 @kiwicup @jakebitez @mystgene @baek-some-cake @betagalactose @kookiesnkim @honeyvelvetinez @violetteaismyfavourite @meowza1 @abbyssful @yandere-stories @imminentcodexcore @mlink64 @k4y-sh @rubadubdubinthetub @jungwno ( just ask to be added to perm taglist lovelies)

[simjakedly]

mark me yours - l.hs (part 3)

— a spin-off from love me (k)not

main masterlist | part 1 | part 2

synopsis. heeseung finally knows the taste of betrayal.

pairing. alpha!heeseung x omega!female reader

genre(s). omegaverse, fated mates, strangers-to-lovers, fluff, angst, smut

warnings. MDNI (there'll be a warning cut), heavy angst, alpha!jay being our target again i'm so sorry this is the last time i promise!, tw: nosebleed, softdom!heeseung because i love soft doms, p in v, fingering, missionary AND doggy because why not, unprotected sex (haih pls just don't), loss of virginity, nipple sucking, body worshipping, BITING, MARKING, BITE-MARK, heeseung cries a lot good lord but he deserves it lowkey, LIKE BONNIE AND CLYDE MAKIN' LOVEEE (insert hoonwon's voice), yes they make love your honour, and yes it's a happy ending your honour, not beta read we die like injang, tumblr pls stop with your 1000 blocks limit im gna come at you!!! lmk if i missed anything :>

word count. 15,175 words

note. i'm sorryyyyyyy for the delay sjshidshk here's the last part!!! thank you for showing this series your love and support <3

It’s finally the day of the competition.

Yet you haven’t heard from Heeseung for days.

You try not to make it obvious, nor to show how much you care. Not when Jungwon wouldn’t say anything either.

The younger alpha has been replacing Heeseung instead, walking you home while chatting about anything but the elephant in the room.  

Or, in your case, the wolf in your universe.

There’s a lump of disappointment lodging in your chest whenever you think about it. You think that Heeseung has finally given up on trying to make up. You think that you’ve been too indifferent and unintentionally have pushed him away further than the two of you have ever been.

You don’t know why the thought makes you feel bitter.

“Our pitching is next,” Jungwon whispers next to you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You watch the group before you begin their pitching presentation.

In the first stage, the pitching was done in separate rooms to make it less time-consuming. But your group has advanced to the final stage, and now you have to convince five professionals from the business industry why your business idea is better than three other groups in front of hundreds of audience.

The image makes your blazer suddenly feel too tight around your ribs. You shift, trying not to think about the eyes watching every movement of the participants sitting on the far end of the stage.

Where the hell did this many people come from, anyway? You never see this crowd in lecture halls!

“Y/N. You’re nervous.”

“I’m relaxed.”

“Well, you don’t really smell like you’re relaxed right now.”

You purse your lips. Jungwon is right, of course, except you actually feel like your nerves are on the edge of bursting.

You’re not exactly good with stage fright. Especially in front of all these people whose names sound way too dramatic, like they don’t belong to the normal citizens like you. Their eyes are too penetrative, like they’re already figuring out every single doubt and nerves in your body, ready to tackle with impossible-to-answer questions.

You move in your seat again, trying to find comfort. But the seat is too hard for your tailbone. Beside you, Jungwon leans closer, speaking over the speaker blasting by your ears.

“Are you going to Jake hyung’s after party tonight?”

“His after party?” your eyebrows shoot up. Then you remember the invitation and something inside you sinks.

“Oh. Right. It’s his birthday today, right?”

And Heeseung must be there, you think bitterly, unaware of the withering daisies now wafting from your neck. They’re close friends, after all.

You don’t understand why, or you maybe actually do, but the lump in your chest only gets bigger. Really, you shouldn’t expect much by a man. They’ll always prioritise their homeboys over you in every way, your brain adds to the fuel.

Jungwon chuckles when he sees your frown, showing off his perfect dimples that could disarm any opponent. 

Something clicks in your mind. Yeap. That’s right. You just need to force Jungwon to smile in front of the judges and surely—

“Relax, Heeseung hyung’s daisy. Look to your right.”

You don’t know why. Maybe it’s because of his name finally being mentioned by the younger alpha, or the flutter in your chest at being called his daisy—but your head whips so fast in that direction, heart ramming behind your ribs.

Seated at the front row, standing out too much due to his handsome features and not-so-subtle hair colour, is Lee Heeseung. From where you sit, you can’t really make out his expression. 

But the alpha is already staring at you, burgundy hair swept back neatly to expose his forehead. A small curve of his lips quirks up like he’s been expecting you to notice him.

You sit dumbly as he gives you a tiny wave, not sure what to do now that the alpha is actually here. 

Here. To watch your group presentation and not there: To celebrate Jake’s birthday at his party.

For the first time in weeks, you feel your omega stirs and you almost choke.

“It’s our turn!” 

You inhale sharply, snapping your eyes back to the centre of the stage. The previous group is already receiving applause and walking towards the other end of the stage to join the audience. 

Okay. It’s actually your turn.

You feel sick to your stomach. You almost miss it when Jungwon nudges at you to stand, smoothing down his own blazer as he shoots you a dimpled smile. On the way to the centre of the stage, your mind is nothing more than a whirlwind of overthinking.

Trailing after Jungwon in your heels is nerve-wracking because what if you trip?

Bowing down to greet the judges and audience is scary because what if you lose your balance?

Staring back at the audience is distressing because what if they silently judge your makeup?

But all thoughts fly out the window when you meet eyes with Heeseung again.

As if the noise in your head suddenly vanishes, you can feel your frantic mind quieting down and your breathing, previously quite erratic, steadies without so much effort. 

And it only happens when Heeseung holds your gaze, trusting and comforting all at the same time.

It’s like the stage was a tidal wave and Heeseung was the shore that keeps you safe.

Your omega stirs again.

Before you know it, Jungwon is already passing the mic to you. You take in a shaky breath, sweaty palms almost slippery, and imagine that every cell in your brain is filing up your speech in a neat line.

Despite your worries, everything goes well.

Your presentation goes on without a hitch and it ends exactly the way your best-scenario imagination does. You even manage to answer one out of five questions from the panel, and you can’t help the pride swelling in your chest when your group is announced as the first runner-up of the competition.

It’s a national-level competition, so being in the top three is already satisfactory for you and your group members, who were lowballing to only bring home participation certificates.

“First runner up is good enough! Congrats!” you squeal, almost hugging Jungwon in your excitement. The alpha dodges you as if you were a bullet, eyes darting to somewhere behind your head.

“Hey. You dodged my hug,” you huff.

“I have no intention to challenge a dominant alpha,” Jungwon gives you a teasing smile and wiggles his eyebrows. You raise yours, and before you can ask what he means by that, Jungwon is already raising his hand and waving at someone.  

“Heeseung hyung! Your daisy is here!”

Your daisy. Heeseung hyung’s daisy. 

His daisy.

Crimson red blooms across your cheeks, and your heart decides to skip a few beats you think it’s going to fall to the floor from how fast it's pounding.

Jungwon is fast to grab your shoulders and turn you around, like a proud parent introducing their child to their conglomerate friends. Your protest dies in your throat once your eyes settle on Heeseung’s approaching figure.

He’s donning a white dress shirt with slightly rolled-up sleeves, exposing his smooth forearms and athin silver bracelet. A dark gray vest, tailored and buttoned neatly hugs his frame snugly, showing off his narrow waist. There’s a big bouquet of pink roses held close to his chest, handled delicately like it’s something sacred.

His eyes, round and soft around the edges, are already trained on you. A wide smile curves up his lips, charming and disarming you’re sure the omegas around you are stealing glances.

Inside, your omega stirs again.

“Hi, Y/N.” He holds out the bouquet to you, his smiling turning shy. “For you.”

You take it slowly, admiring the beautiful petals. There are tiny daisies filling up the spaces between the roses and you feel something tug at your heartstring.

 “Thank you, Heeseung. How’ve you been?”

Closer, only now do you notice the lack of colour in his face. His cheeks are losing its radiant flush, and his lips are void of its usual pinkish hue. There’s a slight delay before he responds and his smile comes slower than usual.

Something feels off. Not obvious enough to name, but it’s enough to make your chest tighten.

As if noticing your stare, Heeseung tries to cover his face. He raises his hand and pretends to cough.

“I was quite sick,” he says after a moment, trying to sound casual. He gives you a reassuring smile. “I’m sorry that I didn’t show up without any updates.”

“It’s okay,” you softly say. You don’t know if it’s truly okay, though, because now your heart thinks that there’s something wrong. 

Is he hiding something from you?

“I came to see you,” he says, like it’s the only place he’s ever meant to be. “I didn’t want to miss it. Congratulations, Y/N.”

He really came for you. Not for Jungwon or anyone. Not to Jake or anyone. But for you.

You can faintly hear your omega murmuring something, but your racing heart is louder than any noise in your head.

You’re about to reply when Jungwon inserts himself into the conversation, announcing his presence like a royal entering a ball.

“Thank you, hyung! I know we were great.” Jungwon says way too loudly, forcing Heeseung to shake hands with him. You let out a laugh while Heeseung only rolls his eyes.

“You too, Jungwon.”

“Anyway, why don’t we take a picture?” Jungwon, ever the trusted wingman, wiggles an eyebrow at Heeseung, hoping that you won’t notice. You actually do, but for some reason, you don’t say anything against it.

Heeseung studies your face. “Can I take a picture with you, Y/N?”

You hesitate for a second, heat sweeping across your cheeks before you nod. “Sure.”

Jungwon instantly pushes you in Heeseung’s direction. The dominant alpha, not expecting his accomplice to take such a bold move, catches you by the elbows instinctively. His fast reflexes are proving to be useful in the situation.

“Okay, look at the camera. Y/N, don’t be so stiff!”

Jungwon, that menace. One of these days you’re gonna beat his ass for sure.

“Heeseung hyung, is that a GDP gap? Get closer!”

“I’m sorry about him,” Heeseung whispers into your ears and chuckles breathily. Something kicks in your heart. “He’s a bit annoying, right?”

You just cannot hold your tongue. “He is, and I had to stick around with him when you weren’t around,” you catch yourself saying and silently curse yourself. Beside you, Heeseung stills for a second.

Why are you already whining to him? Fuck these stupid feelings, man. You’re still mad at him!

But Heeseung doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, his grin only gets wider. He leans down further, hot breath brushing against the shell of your ears.

“I’ll keep trying,” he murmurs, edged with his usual determination. “Even if you don’t let me.”

You try not to notice that Jungwon has been silently snapping the candid moments. You also try to ignore the way your heart beats like a war drum. You try not to think too much about the manly pheromones coming from Heeseung—the cinnamon and sea salt that are awakening old memories, and the way his taller shoulder brushes yours.

“On three!” Jungwon interrupts, a boyish smirk on his face. You quickly clear your throat and smile at the camera.

“Two!”

Heeseung’s left shoulder bumps into you softly from behind, angling his body to face you. His hand hovers a safe distance from the back of your waist, not touching you even by accident like he’s afraid even that would be too much.

“One!”

As the flash goes off and you hold the bouquet dearly to your chest, you quietly wonder when it stopped hurting so much.

The next morning, you’re awakened by the sound of Yujin squealing and thumping on your door.

“Y/N! Get your fucking ass out now!”

The urgency in her voice makes you jolt awake and scramble to your feet. With sleepiness still clinging to your lashes, you stumble to the door, mentally preparing yourself to punch a robber.

“Yujin! What is it?!” you ask, voice hoarse but still laced with panic.

“Did you already make up with Heeseung?!”

You pause and stand there dumbly, hazy mind slowly clearing up at her sudden interrogation. With the biggest question mark on your face, you blurt out, “Huh?”

“Heeseung posted you on his Instagram!”

“Huh?”

“Y/N! He never posted girls on his account!” Yujin screams in your face, looking more excited than ever. “Fucking hell, open your damn phone!”

Yujin rushes into your room, flipping your pillows where she knows you always keep your phone despite the electromagnet radiation that she warns you about. She unlocks the screen by shoving it into your bleary face and hits the pink-purple-orange gradient icon quickly.

“There!”

You blink the blurriness away from your eyes, adjusting to the bright screen in your face. Yujin waits impatiently, gauging your reaction with wide eyes.

On the screen is the picture you took last night. You haven’t checked the result yet because you were quickly ushered away to take group pictures with other participants after and by the time you reached home, you were out the moment your head hit the pillow.

But now, you realise, the picture turns out really well. 

Heeseung stands taller than you, a close-lipped smile spreading wide across his face as he stood proud and protective beside you. You have a similar smile mirroring his, leaned into him in a way that hinted at familiarity and domesticity. The pop of colour from the roses makes the picture look more alive, and the colour filter he used makes it look almost nostalgic.

An ancient feeling, like a prophecy waiting to be fulfilled, blooms in your chest. You stare at the picture longer than intended, then read the caption he typed in cursive.

‘smarty daisy did it again.’

You re-read it once. Then twice. The soft declaration, the hints on intimacy makes your omega purr in delight. Nobody has ever called you daisy, especially their daisy, but here Heeseung is: calling you his daisy like he’s just found a new favourite flower.

“Yujin…”

To your surprise, Yujin replies with a sniffle. When you look up, her eyes are already glossed over.

“Yujin? Why are you…”

“I’m sorry I got emotional,” Yujin cuts in, laughing it off like a funny joke with a shaky voice. 

“It’s just—I never met true mates. And while the circumstances between you two weren’t great, I’m just so glad  that you have an alpha willing to amend his mistakes.”

You can already feel your eyes watering.

“Yujin…”

Yujin takes your hands in her hold and urges you to sit on the mattress with her. It’s silent for a moment, and you take the chance to stare at the picture again.

It’s an Instagram story, but there is already a long line of comments. You read through each one of them, curiosity getting the best of you.

narin.kim no fucking way

jakesimisimiya hey so u ditched me ON MY BDAY

jeyipark @jakesimisimiya talk to me i am his lawyer

just.jungwon cute cute cuteeeee wonder who took the pic tho

evanlee @just.jungwon she is cute

nishimurariki welcome to the simp club

sunooyaa it’s time to ask me if my back hurts from carrying this ship

Every comment makes your breath feel shorter. You try hard to bite back a smile and ignore the small flutter in your chest, not noticing the way Yujin observes everything. When she eventually speaks, her voice has dropped to a serious tone.

“Have you forgiven him?”

You tear your eyes away from your phone, taking a moment to reply. Then, with a shake of your head, you reply, “No. Not yet, I think.”

It’s not a whole lie. While the human part of you has already forgiven him, your omega is still giving you radio silence. But for now, you decide to keep it to yourself first—the way your omega has been more responsive these days, albeit slowly and slightly.

“That’s good,” Yujin nods. “Forgiveness should come from your heart. You shouldn’t force it just because you feel bad for him.”

The words land like a gentle reminder tucking you in a warm blanket. You don’t say anything and look back at the screen, thumb hovering over the reply box. The gears of your mind start turning, looking for a polite way to thank the alpha.

Then, softly, Yujin continues, making your head spin with the weight of her words for the rest of the day.

“But when it’s really time to forgive him, I hope you don’t run away from it too.”

You end up reposting Heeseung’s story and hide.

The attention is quite heavy for you, to be honest. You’ve never been the centre of that many eyes, not since in the backyard of Jake’s frat house.

You never dare ask Heeseung as well. A reply of, ‘Thank you Heeseung’ is all you can manage, keeping the rest of the sentence to yourself.

‘Why did you post only me?’

You’re not blind. You see the chaos he created from that single post. The notorious alpha who doesn’t do relationships, who always prioritises his friends over girls is suddenly skipping Jake’s birthday to see a boring competition and posting a picture with the omega he came for. You become a hot sensation overnight—people just can’t stop talking about it.

Because of that, thoughts about him become even more frequent and inevitably, your heart starts to melt at how persistent he is.

It’s been more than a month yet Heeseung doesn’t falter. He keeps choosing you in routine. He keeps choosing you in public.

And, apparently, he chooses you in private, too.

You don’t mean to overhear the conversation, really. You’re just leaving the restroom during practice break, about to have lunch with Rei when you see two shadows disappearing around the corner. Your heart almost stops.

Seeing Heeseung and Narin together brings back old wounds that almost makes you lose your mind. Your quiet omega has been tugging you to follow, to see what the alpha is doing with the omega that your wolf has marked with a red ink on her forehead.

So you follow them quietly, covering your scent gland with a hand in hope to hide your presence. With your back to the wall, you hold your breath as you hear the conversation between the two of them.

“—on, Heeseung. You left things unfinished that night.” Narin’s voice is the one you hear first, frustration spilling into her tone.

“I don’t intend to finish it,” Heeseung replies, always sounding calm and composed. It painfully reminds you of the talk you had with him after the tournament.

“Why? You always sleep with different people. Why did I never get a chance?” Narin scoffs, disbelieving. “And they've been saying that you’ve stopped!”

“I have. I don’t do that anymore.”

“Is it because of Y/N?”

Your ear perks up. Damn bro, they’re now talking about you. It slips from your mind sometimes, about how childish Narin can be. Something akin to anticipation builds up in your chest, waiting for Heeseung’s reply.

“Yes,” he answers, firm and fast. “I’m pursuing her right now. I hope that’s clear.”

There is silence from Narin, but the spike in her scent sours the atmosphere almost instantly. While you, well, you try not to feel so giddy about it.

“Are you stupid? Her? Didn’t she cut the—”

“What happened between Y/N and I is a private matter of our hearts. It’s not your business,” Heeseung cuts in sharply with a bite to his voice. Your omega shifts inside you. “Are you done? Because I’m leaving.”

Panic ensues in your system at the thought of being caught eavesdropping. Your mind scrambles for escape, so without thinking you almost sprint to the vending machine at the end of the hallway and pretend to buy a drink.

Acting like you don’t notice them while catching your breath proves to be the hardest sport for you yet. You stare blankly at the vending machine, unaware of the grape juice sitting right under your nose and fully aware of the manly pheromones approaching you.

Thank Goddess that he smells like himself only. You think you’re going to break down if Narin’s scent clings onto him.

“Are you thinking of a different drink?” Heeseung murmurs softly, standing beside you and mimicking you staring at the machine.

You steal a glance at him, feeling the movement of your wolf becoming more responsive and bold. Behind your ribs, your heart is galloping like a horse.

“No. I still like grape juice.”

“Mhm, okay,” Heeseung fishes out his wallet and makes the purchase like it’s routine. The impact of the can dropping can’t even beat the loud pulse racing in your ears. Heeseung opens the can with one hand.

“For you.”

“Thank you.”

You take it, fingers brushing his. You try not to overthink the sparks the touch sends to your system and quietly drink, feeling his eyes boring into the side of your face.

“Y/N, I have something to tell you,” he begins, this time sounding slightly nervous. “Narin and I talked just now.”

Oh. Okay. He’s actually coming clean about it.

You didn’t expect that at all.

You nod, still not looking at him. Heeseung takes a second to himself, like he’s plotting something, then before you know it, he’s already moving to stand in front of you, bending his body to be on your eye-level. 

You almost choke and take a step back.

“Heeseung?”

“I need you to look into my eyes,” he licks his lips, holding your eyes with his intense gaze. “Because I need you to know that you’re the only omega I like and I’m pursuing.”

The sincerity in his voice is almost too much, but you find savouring it instead.

“And I made that clear to her just now.”

Is he trying to reassure you?

You search his face, and all you can see in those dark eyes is utter devotion and determination.

It makes your chest tighten.

“I’m serious, Y/N. I will keep trying no matter what.”

You can only hum and nod, failing to find your voice.

“Okay.”

Heeseung shoots you with a small grin and straightens up. He glances at his smartwatch and frowns.

“I have to skip tonight’s practice. There’s a meeting about the upcoming music festival,” he says, looking at you with furrowed eyebrows. “I’ll find someone to walk you home.”

“It’s okay. I’ll use the Safe Night Walk service,” you politely decline, already sick of hearing Jungwon talking about his lifelong crush on some noona that won’t see him as a man every time he walks you home.

Seriously, you don’t blame that omega. Jungwon is really cute, it’s hard to see him more than a kitty cat.

Heeseung’s face, on the other hand, twists into confusion before a look of understanding crosses his face. 

Safe Night Walk is a service provided by the omega activist club of your university. The purpose is pretty self-explanatory, where any omega who’d like to go home at night can request an alpha to keep them safe. It’s pretty well-known for how rigid the alpha selection process is, seeing as the new president of the club is the fiercest to hold the title yet, making the service the most credible it has ever been.

Which is probably why Heeseung agrees to it too easily.

“Oh, right. Jay also tried for the selection, but he never told me if he passed or not,” Heeseung pauses, pondering about something.

“Sunghoon also signed up for it and we know each other. Do you want me to contact him?”

You wave a hand. “It’s fine. I’ll get someone when it’s time to go home.”

It’s quite hard to convince the alpha that you don’t need his friend’s service, but Heeseung eventually relents. He gives you a fond smile, walking backwards and not breaking eye contact.

“Call me if no alpha is available.”

“Okay.”

“I will run to you in ten minutes. No—five minutes.”

Your heart stutters, but your face remains neutral. “As if you can do that.”

Heeseung grins. The easy affection etched in his features is almost too scary for you to bear.

“For you, I will.”

The shared apartment is quiet save for the track playing from his producer room. Heeseung lies down on his couch, staring at the ceiling in silence. His lyrics notebook sits idly on the coffee table, open and now forgotten. Outside, the rain pouring down does nothing to wash down his guilt.

He had lied to you.

He just came back from a doctor appointment, not a meeting about any festival. A checkup meant to follow up with his condition after the night he collapsed in Jay’s arms.

‘You only have two weeks to win the omega back. If nothing succeeds, you must cut the one-sided bond, Heeseung-ssi.”

Heeseung only wants to do one thing and cutting the bond is not an option. 

It’s better for him to die being yours than to live being nothing to you.

“I’m sorry,” he quietly mutters to the empty space.

“I ran away again,” he swallows thickly. “I’m still the old Heeseung in some ways. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

The pitter-patter of the rain is the only sound he receives back, thickening the guilt spilling over his chest.

He grazes the scent gland with the tip of his finger. It pulses slowly, faintly, like a calm before a storm. A storm that is just turning the key and entering the door.

“I’m home,” Jay announces, toeing off his shoes. There are tiny droplets of rain in his hoodie, but that’s not what catches Heeseung’s attention.

It’s the scent that lingers in his citrusy pheromones.

Soft daisies and sweet honey—unmistakingly you.

Jay smells like you.

Something churns violently in his stomach. 

Every silent breakdown, every secret insecurity of his best friend comes crashing down on him. His blood roars in his ears that Heeseung believes he’s seeing red.

In that one single sniff that he picks up with his sensitive nose, Heeseung almost thinks that the floor holding his weight is crumbling down. 

He springs up to sit, eyes narrowing down in his friend’s direction. His alpha is already growling, ready to take the other alpha down in a fight.

Jay, still oblivious to the storm building inside the house, throws Heeseung a smile. 

“Hee, just now—”

“Park Jongseong,” Heeseung starts slowly, trying to hide the hurt in his voice as he stands and approaches him slowly. “Why the fuck do you smell like her?”

Jay’s expression turns into confusion. He sniffs at the collar of his hoodie and—oh.

Oh.

Heeseung can’t stand the look of realisation on his face. It’s like being left out of something that should be his, something that only he should know and have. His chest twists sharply and before he can stop himself, he’s already shoving Jay into the wall, fists trembling with restraint.

“Jay,” he breathes out, his voice treading the edges of fear and heartbreak. “Please tell me why the fuck am I smelling Y/N on your right now.”

Despite his anger, Heeseung’s voice sounds way too broken. Anxiety cracks through his demeanour, and for a moment, Heeseung’s not sure if he wants to hear Jay’s answer. There is a thin veil of tears glossing over his eyes and his scent gland is throbbing violently, shooting pain all over his body.

It’s almost like he was back in the backyard, watching you scream in pain as you smelled another woman on him. Heeseung sobs, hating himself even more than he ever did.

Was this how you felt that night?

Jay claws at the hands around his collar, almost gasping for air.

“Heeseung—it’s not what you think—”

“Then tell me! Fuck!” he shouts, eyes pleading Jay desperately to prove him wrong.

The longer he smells the blend of your scent with Jay’s pheromones, the dizzier his head gets. His frantic heart is buzzing with the thoughts of being replaced, of losing yet another chance to make things right, of losing you.

His self-esteem, already in pieces since that tragic night, is filled with doubt and uncertainty to the brim.

Not you, please. Heeseung quietly prays. Please not you, Jay.

“I walked her home!” Jay yells, face red from how tight Heeseung’s gripping his collar. His wolf whines at the unexpected aggression from his closest alpha, confused and wounded from being treated like an enemy. “She used the Safe Night Walk service and I was one of the alphas on duty.”

Hearing that, Heeseung’s grip loosens a fraction, trying desperately to believe his friend.

“It’s raining so I lent her my hoodie.” Jay quietly mutters, losing the previous edge. There’s a look of hurt on his face now that he fails to mask. He searches Heeseung’s tearful face, dread growing in his chest.

Despite the aggression, Jay cannot find it in him to be upset when all he can see in his friend is fear and hurt.

“Please, Heeseung. I will never betray you like that.”

Heeseung bites his lips until it bleeds and finally lets go. Jay almost drops down to the floor, clawing at his throat for relief. His neck has turned deep red, bruised from Heeseung’s grip. 

Heeseung is strong even when he never admits it, the dominant traits in him giving him the advantage when his wolf is riled up. Jay is lucky that Heeseung didn’t use his commanding voice—he would’ve been helpless if it happened.

But deep down, Jay knows that Heeseung would never do that to him. They’re best friends, after all.

The air is thick and heavy with a dominant alpha’s wrath. Heeseung doesn’t even realise how sharp his scent has turned until he finds himself struggling to breathe.

There’s a ringing silence between the two alphas. Jay is still on the floor, chest heaving rapidly as he tries to process. Heeseung, on the other hand, is on the verge of breaking apart.

Quietly, the alpha mutters an apology.

“I’m sorry.”

Heeseung leaves the house in a storm of cinnamon and tearful bergamot, slamming the door so hard the frame rattles.

He’s never felt closer to death than tonight.

You take your time with your skincare. Or rather, you’re actually zoning out while tapping toner into your skin.

Your conversation with Jay still lingers in the back of your mind.

“Thank you for giving him a chance, Y/N. I was scared that you wouldn’t.”

What would happen if you didn’t?

You sigh and stare into the mirror. You’re freshly out of the shower and in your comfiest pajamas, yet a hint of Jay’s pheromones is still there. It seems that the rain doesn’t wash it away; it only makes it stick longer.

Inside, your omega shifts uncomfortably, unsettled by the scent of the foreign alpha. You roll your eyes.

“I know you hate it, but it can’t be helped when we haven’t forgiven him yet.” You grunt, capping your bottled product. “I mean, I already did, but since you’re like, my other half, I can’t just—”

Forgiven.

The toner slips from your hand and clatters on the floor. 

Your lungs freeze. 

“...What?”

I want to forgive him.

Slowly, a habit that you’re already accustomed to since that night, you place a hand on your chest. Your omega’s presence is more tangible now, like she’s finally arose from her deep slumber.

And she’s finally talking to you.

“Are you sure?” you start slowly, not wanting to offend the fragile soul. “We can take more time, you don’t have to feel rushed—”

I want my alpha, Y/N. I forgive him and I hope you do, too.

Every word fails you in that moment. You stand alone in your room, with only your wolf as your lifelong companion. There’s a strange feeling in your heart.

Something ancient. Something sacred. Something freeing.

A ghost of a smile grazes your lips.

“Idiot. I told you, didn’t I? The stubborn one out of the two of us is you.”

He hurt us badly, Y/N. Of course I had to stand on business.

“It’s better that you did,” you hum, finally feeling like a weight has been lifted off your shoulder. “Or else I probably won’t see this side of him and will only remember him as a bad alpha.”

Your omega doesn’t reply. In return, there’s a soft pulsing in your scent gland; something that hasn’t occurred in so long. You gasp.

But before you can process it, your phone rings, the noise slicing through the atmosphere sharply. You frown when you see that it’s your next-door neighbour, a fellow floormate that likes to borrow your detergent.

“Hello?”

“Y/N, oh my Goddess. Don’t come out!” she whisper-shouts, panic evident in her voice. “There’s an alpha outside of your door right now and he smells so bad. I think he’s dangerous. We’re about to call the security.”

Your heart drops. “What? Who?”

There’s a sound of movement and whispering before you hear a gasp.

“Okay, what the hell. It’s actually Heeseung and he’s crying,” your floormate says in disbelief. You, on the other hand, are in bigger disbelief.

Heeseung? Didn’t Yujin already let him know that you’re home?

Your feet are already padding across the tiles of your apartment, heart beating in your lungs. 

“Y/N…I think you need to come out. He’s not moving at all.”

“Okay. Thanks for letting me know.”

Your sweaty palm trembles at the doorknob. Heeseung’s pheromones, thick and definitely smells distressed—which explains why your neighbour said that he smells bad—seeps through the gap between the door and the floor. But he doesn’t knock, like he’s here only to feel your presence.

Your omega whines, restless from the distressed pheromones, eager to comfort. You take a deep breath before you yank the door open.

The scene that greets you almost makes you speechless.

Heeseung stands in front of you, head hanging low like he’s trying to make himself smaller. The hallways are filled with slightly open doors and heads peeking out; all the omegas and betas living on this floor are definitely curious about the distress-smelling alpha and his omega.

“Heeseung?”

He doesn’t respond at first. His breaths come out uneven—too sharp, too shallow—like his lungs have forgotten to work properly. For a second, you think he doesn’t hear you.

But then, he lifts his gaze slightly, holding back a storm behind his eyes as he looks into yours. His nose flares, and then his scent turns more sour.

“Heeseung?”

There, lingering too faintly under your body wash, your lotion, and your own scent like it’s already fading out slowly—is Jay’s pheromones.

Something finally shatters in his chest.

“You smell like him.”

His voice is grim and shaky, tugging at your heartstrings. You immediately know what he’s referring to and for some reason, an ugly feeling twists in yiur gut.

But before you can respond, Heeseung already drops to his knees. 

A chorus of gasps is heard across the hallways. The bystanders are no longer caring about being seen eavesdropping. You think you even see a phone directed your way, but it’s the least of your concern now.

“Heeseung—”

“I can take anything you do to me,” Heeseung’s voice cracks, barely holding it together. “I can take any punishment you want to give me but not this.”

Heeseung cranes his neck. Trails of tears clinging to his lashes are falling his nose, his cheeks, the side of his face, down to the floor.

“Please, not him. Please—I beg you.”

His face crumples, like he’s imagining the sight of you and Jay together in his mind.

“I can’t—” his breath stutters, chest heaving like it’s caving in on itself. “I can’t do it, Y/N. I thought I could take it. I thought I deserved it, but—”

His fingers curl into the fabric of his pants, knuckles turning white.

“It hurts,” he chokes out, voice breaking into something almost unrecognisable. “It hurts so fucking bad.”

Your heart lurches.

Because you know.

You know exactly what he’s feeling.

The suffocating ache. The betrayal that sits in your lungs and refuses to let you breathe. The way your mind spirals, painting images you don’t want to see but can’t stop imagining.

It’s the same pain.

The same one he put you through.

Heeseung lets out a broken sound, shaking his head like he’s trying to rid himself of it.

“I get it now,” he whispers, more to himself than to you. “I get why you looked at me like that. I get why you—”

Heeseung cuts himself off. This time, a more pained, more broken noise slips past his lips.

“I get why you ended it.”

Everything hurts. His scent gland is angry red, throbbing endlessly like a sign of the real ending. His head pounds sharply and his lungs—oh Goddess, Heeseung can’t breathe.

His body sways. Instinctively, you crouch down to his level and catch him before he can fall. Panic fills up your system when a trickle of crimson blood starts peeking out of his nose.

No. No, please no. Not this again.

You cup his face, thumbs brushing his cheeks shakily. You turn your face and shout at your neighbour to call the ambulance or anyone—you just can’t let this happen.

You can’t let Heeseung go through the same pain you did.

“Heeseung, please don’t close your eyes.”

His head weighs heavier as he lolls forward, eyes almost snapping shut. You let his head rest on your shoulder, not caring about the blood now staining your shirt. Hot tears brim along your lashline.

“Heeseung, please—”

“Please forgive me,” Heeseung whispers weakly into your ears. The pain is unbearable, crushing his bones and penetrating his system like a sharp-end disease—an inevitable reaction from smelling another alpha on you.

So this is what you went through, he thinks wistfully. You must be in so much pain.

“Please forgive me, Y/N.”

“Where’s the ambulance?!” You finally break, cheeks wet with tears. Heeseung has completely gone still in your embrace, adding panic to your system. You reach out to hold his face.

“No, no, please.”

The lower part of his face is smudged red. His eyes close shut, still leaking out his tears even in his unconsciousness.

You let out an ugly sob, feeling utterly broken and scared.

“I forgive you, Heeseung. Please.”

You’re so fucking scared. Scared of losing yet another life you could’ve had when you were so close to having it.

Scared of not having the chance to love and to be loved again, this time with the person your soul chooses and not because fate says so.

“Please don’t leave me again.”

When Heeseung comes to, you’re holding his hands, zoning out.

There’s a distant look in your expression. A thin air of sad, wilted daisies lingers, no doubt wafting from you. His wolf, having just woken up like him, immediately shifts restlessly in his chest at the scent.

Your thumb brushes over his knuckles absentmindedly, tracing the veins like you’re memorising something before it disappears again.

He stays quiet, letting his eyes trace every curve of your features. The pretty slope of your nose, the soft swell of your cheeks, the petals of your lips. Then they stop at your puffy eyes.

Something inside him twists uncomfortably.

Why does he always make you cry?

You don’t even notice that he’s awake yet, too lost in your head as you stare at the beige wall of the ward. Not until he squeezes your hand back, eager and nervous to see if you’ll return it back or let go.

When you feel the grip tighten, your eyes snap back to him. And then, like a small win that heals something in his heart, you squeeze his hand back.

Heeseung almost breaks down.

“You’re awake,” you say in relief and move to stand. “I’ll get the doctor.”

Heeseung obeys, never finding it in him to go against your words anymore. But his hand never lets go. He savours every second that you let him hold you—the closest he’s ever touched you since the night he saved you.

He doesn’t let go even as the doctor does a checkup on him. The doctor comes in with Jay, who looks as disheveled as he is. There’s an awkward atmosphere between the two alphas, but neither dares to say anything and lets the doctor do his job.

He was unconscious for twelve hours, apparently.

“The scenting from your omega helped speed up the recovery process,” the doctor elaborates. Heeseung steals a glance at you, gauging your reaction, but your face remains neutral. 

It’s no wonder that he’s been feeling at peace since waking up—you had been scenting him when he was out.

“You just need to stay for a blood test and then you’re good to go,” the doctor continues, flashing him with a reassuring smile.

Murmurs of thank-yous ripple in the room as the three of you watch the doctor take his leave. Shortly after, the tension returns, and it’s almost obvious to you that the suffocating air comes from the two best friends.

Jay shifts on his feet awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. “I’m gonna grab us lunch.”

Which leaves him alone with you in the room.

Heeseung braves himself and takes a look at you, but you’re already staring at him. Your stare unsettles him, like you’re waiting for him to confess for a crime he didn’t know yet he committed.

“How are you feeling?” you ask instead.

“I—I think I’m good. Yeah,” Heeseung says quickly, a bit taken aback. He watches as you nod, then inspect his face by blinking closer, oblivious to the way he almost explodes from the proximity.

When satisfied, you lean back slightly, but still keep a close distance with him.

“Heeseung.”

The temperature suddenly drops, and the serious look on your face damn near makes him cry. Heeseung tries to mask his panic.

Did he do something wrong again? Fuck. He messed up, didn’t he?

“Hm?”

You take a shaky breath. “Jay told me about everything.”

Heeseung freezes. Everything?

Everything as in the fight that almost broke out last night? Everything as in how pathetic he is for you, which shouldn’t be so shocking or earth-shattering because he is pathetic and a loser for you?

Or everything as in his worsening health condition?

For a moment, you just stare at him. But the more seconds pass, the more obvious it is that you’re holding back tears.

“About the two options you had.”

Heeseung stops breathing. True to his speculation, it is about his health condition. About the fate that he has to choose, about the options that stand between mercy and cruelty.

“Why didn't you tell me? No—” you shake your head, your grip on his hand trembling greatly. His lips remain shut.

“Why didn’t you just cut the bond?”

The sadness dripping in your scent feels almost physical. You hang your head low, enveloping the two of you with the distressed scent of your pheromones. A low whine echoes in your chest, not heard but felt. Your omega is just as destroyed as you are, utterly horrified from the choice he made.

What if you never forgive him? What would become of him? 

Heeseung brushes his thumb over your hand consciously, trying to seep his own calming pheromones into your troubled scent. It helps, he notices, as the tremble in your hands subsides, breath evening out.

Then, with a raw honesty, he answers.

“Because I didn’t want a life where you don’t exist in it.”

There’s a lump in your throat but you swallow it down, refusing to break now that you have the chance to understand. To understand the equally wounded alpha in front of you, flawed yet still trying. 

“I know that sounds selfish,” he adds quickly. “It is. I was choosing myself when I said that.”

You shake your head, tears threatening to escape. “You could’ve died, no—you almost died, Heeseung.” 

“I know.”

Heeseung doesn’t argue. He looks down to your joined hands, branding his brain with the image. A soft smile appears on his lips. He wishes he could hold your hands more often.

“I just…” he exhales shakily. “I thought if I let go of the bond, it would be like I never got the chance to love you at all.”

You squeeze his hand. Your alpha, you realise, is just as soft as you are. He’s always been. It was just misunderstood and misdirected—his flaws that almost cost you your life. You resented him for it, ran from him to avoid it, made it hard for him to save yourself.

But in the end, quietly, tenderly—you find yourself forgiving him.

You understand now; what he was afraid of.

For Heeseung who used to live in short-lived attachments and practiced detachment, loving someone would sound like a too-big responsibility for him. Too lost in his own fear—fear of loving someone so much they could have power over you—he made choices that hurt you.

It doesn’t justify his actions, nor did it undo everything. But understanding him softens the pain.

“You’re so stupid,” you finally whisper, but it breaks halfway through. Heeseung looks almost hurt from your comment.

“I already forgave you.”

His head snaps up but you don’t look at him.

You take your time to speak. “I already did for a while. I was just waiting for my omega to open up her heart,” you chance him a glance and smile wistfully. 

“And she did just before you came to my door last night.”

A beat of silence passes by. Heeseung can’t seem to find his voice, too stunned with the sudden grace being granted upon him. 

He searches your face. For any lies, for any possible fabrication. He’s desperate to know if this was all just fragments of his dream, if you were just a manifestation of his desperation to be forgiven.

But you’re real. You’re breathing, and you’re telling him that you’ve forgiven him.

“Is this…true?” he asks, voice sounding breathy. “Don’t forgive me just because you feel bad, Y/N. I can’t live with that.”

“No, you didn’t force me,” you shake your head, returning his gaze with built-up courage.

“You earned it.”

Your scent softens, sweeter now that you finally let it out. Like the anger finally loosens its grip on your chest, you can feel your omega melts, her walls crumbling piece by piece.

Heeseung stares at you, mouth slightly agape. The weight he’s been carrying finally cracks and finally, finally—breathing finally comes easy for him now that his chest loosens.

His alpha paws at him in joy.

“Thank you, Y/N. I—” his voice cracks, and so do the tears he’s been holding back. “Oh my Goddess—thank you for forgiving me.”

Heeseung hesitates before he slowly wraps an arm around your shoulder, gauging your reaction. When you don’t push him away, he pulls you closer and you let yourself fall into his embrace.

Heeseung buries his nose in your hair, and the familiar scent of daisies and honey and your hair wash only makes him sob harder.

“Can we try again? Please?”

You nod, wrapping your arms around his waist, smiling into the hug.

“Mhm. Let’s try again.”

Trying again with Heeseung is soft and gentle.

Heeseung doesn’t change. If anything, he becomes more present than ever. If there was hesitation in his action before, he seems more confident to initiate things now.

Holding hands when you’re together. Tucking your hair behind your ears because ‘it hides your beautiful face’. Carrying your bag before you can even greet him properly. Bringing you food and trying to bake, even when you receive complaints from Jay about his oven almost catching on fire. But honestly, out of every failed experiments he did in the kitchen, it’s his ramyeon that you love the most.

And you always get it for free, presented like a five-star Michelin with radish and perfectly-made half-boiled egg. ‘Girlfriend privileges’ is what Sunoo called it, as he and the other alphas eat from their cup noodles.

With forgiveness, conversations come easy. Talking about everything and nothing with Heeseung is like trying to map a land. You finally get to know the story behind his jersey number. 

‘My mom always tells me that I’m her number one,’ he told you when you asked, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. ‘It sticks until now, but I know that he said that only because I was sulking about being the second son—they love my brother more, to be fair!’

You never thought that Heeseung could be cute and adorable. But the two now fit his description perfectly.

Sometimes, his old habits crawl back. Heeseung still finds it hard to tell you about things that bother him, still trying to run away from ugly emotions that make him feel vulnerable.

Just like right now, Heeseung is trying so hard not to pout as he watches his teammates grab a cookie from the Tupperware you bring.

When Riki reaches for a third, his resolve finally cracks and he slaps the alpha’s hand away.

“That’s enough, you greedy alpha. Shoo!”

You stifle a laugh, basking in the rare occasion where Heeseung shows his emotion almost openly like this. He doesn’t like sharing, of course, but he says nothing—which unsettles you a bit.

“Are you mad?” You finally ask after pulling him out for some privacy.

He doesn’t reply. Heeseung takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, then shakes his head.

“I’m not mad.”

“Please tell me what’s wrong,” you coax him again, reminding yourself that Heeseung is still trying to unlearn some of his bad habits. “I can’t fix anything if you don’t tell me.”

Heeseung gnaws at his lips and avoids your eyes. He knows, with a devastating resignation, that he could never refuse if he looks. So he doesn’t look.

But your scent does the same damage anyway. It’s sweet, it’s too intoxicating and Heeseung can feel himself melt even before he can protest.

He finally relents. “Okay,” he sighs.

Heeseung reaches out and takes your fingers in his, clutching at your smaller ones like a lifeline.

“Y/N…” he starts, contemplating his words, unconsciously pouting. “Can’t you bake only for me and not…share?”

You bite back a grin.

“See? It isn’t hard to tell me,” you squeeze his hand. “You can tell me anything, Heeseung. I will always listen.”

Heeseung gives you a pouty nod.

As for him, Heeseung thinks he was never happier than he is right now. 

There’s a strange satisfaction blooming in his chest every time he does something for you. 

Be it walking you home, or waiting at the lobby of your apartment to walk to the campus together. Or feeding you food and having a can of grape juice always ready for you. 

All the things he used to avoid—doing domestic things, having one person to devote all his attention and affection to—they become things that bring his heart at ease now.

And Heeseung loves being taller than you. He loves when you have to look up to talk to him, or the way you can easily hide your face in his chest when he says something corny. The way he can reach the higher shelf for you and become useful to you. He loves towering over you because every time he does it, he can’t help but notice the sweet spike in your scent.

You love it too.

Over time, the two of you get closer than ever. Every brush of hands, every bump of shoulders, every laughter shared—they only bring you back to him, and him to you. And slowly, like a prophecy finally meeting its destiny, the red thread finds its way back to you.

“Are you sure about this?”

You’re now standing in between his legs while Heeseung sits on the mattress of his bed, craning his neck to search your face.

Your fingers pause in his hair when you feel a faint pulse beneath his skin. 

A reminder that he’s still hurting from the one-sided bond. A reminder of the weight of fate tying the two of you.

Heeseung could’ve walked away like you did. He could’ve defied his wolf and cut the bond. But he did nothing of those.

He’s still here, still choosing you in every way you keep choosing him.

“I want this, Heeseung,” you whisper back, carding your fingers through his burgundy hair.  “I’ve never been so sure.”

One of the things that the both of you learn more about the relationship is the importance of the sacred bond. This time, you’re no longer running away or denying it—you and Heeseung take time to learn about its history, about the nature of the bond—and in your case, about how to fix the broken bond.

“It must come from your wolves,” you remember Jay’s mom saying. “And only then can you commemorate the bond and heal it for good.”

Commemorating, in this context, is to finally mate with your alpha. 

It’s a big leap in the relationship, especially since you’re every way inexperienced. Heeseung knows this; which is why he never rushed you and let himself take the hit of the broken bond.

To the Goddess, without the commemoration, the bond is still considered one-sided. It results in Heeseung still experiencing pain from time to time and, after another nosebleed pre-game and out of care for your alpha, you decide you’re done taking your own time.

Your omega holds the sentiment as you, not having the heart to let the alpha suffer for your own sake.

Noticing your silence, Heeseung grabs your wrist gently and brings it to his nose. He starts nosing at the tender skin, pumping out his calm pheromones as he bathes you in his scent.

“Have you been with anyone else before?”

You hesitate. Then, with a shy smile, you shake your head.

“No.”

Contrary to your expectation, Heeseung stills immediately. His face crumples slightly and his phereomones—previously calming and comforting—suddenly takes a sour turn.

You frown. “Heeseung?” You hold his face, heart clenching at his trembling lips. “What’s wrong?”

When he looks up to you, there are silent tears spilling down his cheeks. It alerts you almost immediately.

“Hee?”

“I—” Heeseung takes a deep breath, but his lips wobble, betraying his effort to remain calm.

“I touched people like it didn’t mean anything,” his voice breaks. Heeseung closes his eyes, like the mere looking into your eyes was too much for him to bear. “And now you’re standing here like this is something sacred and I—” 

When you understand what he means, you can feel your own heart breaking.

“Heeseung…”

“Why are you letting me handle something this—precious? I—I don’t deserve you, Y/N. I never did.”

“Please don’t say that,” you coo at him, wiping his tears with the pad of your thumb. 

“I chose you knowing everything you’ve done,” you whisper. “Not because you’re perfect, but because you’re trying.” 

Heeseung leans into your touch, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t. Like the warmth of your touch is the only thing that keeps him grounded. A comfortable silence falls upon you two, full of warm understanding and acceptance.

“Thank you,” Heeseung kisses your palm, long and gentle. “Thank you, Y/N. I mean it.”

A smile creeps up your face. You lean down to kiss his forehead.

“Come and sit here,” Heeseung pats his thighs. You pause for a moment, already getting shy from the proximity. But deep down, you can’t deny that you want this.

Slowly, you descend onto his lap, straddling his thighs. Heeseung pulls you closer by your hips, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips. He lets out a breathy chuckle.

“Are you comfortable?” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. 

“Yeah,” then you pause. “I’m not heavy, am I? Are you comfortable?”

Heeseung hums. “Your weight is perfect for me, baby.”

The term of endearment makes warmth bloom across your cheeks. Heeseung gazes at you fondly, his nose already inching closer to where your scent smells the strongest.

He takes a lungful of your sweet scent—daisies and honey—and almost groans from the feeling of it. His favourite scent in the world. It’s been so long since he got to have you like this, so he keeps scenting you like he’s taking his fill.

“Your scent—you smell so good, Y/N.”

He lets his nose graze your scent gland. Once, twice, before brushing it with small, slow licks. You clutch at his shoulders, sparks bursting from the touch.

“Mhh!”

Heeseung trails up wet kisses up the column of your neck, dragging his tongue along your skin, savouring the soft gasps leaving your parted lips. His grip on your waist tightens, nails digging into your camisole while you try not to lose your mind over the foreign sensation.

Everywhere Heeseung touches with his lips is hot, sending strange, tingly feelings up your spine. It’s wet and it should make you recoil, but you find yourself loving it, already wanting more.

Heeseung stops when he reaches your lips, hot breath brushing against the soft pair. His eyes, now hooded and dark, are losing their round shape, like he, too, is already unraveling from just this.

“I’m gonna kiss you now, my daisy,” he murmurs, eyes dropping to your parted lips, open and so inviting. Something churns inside your stomach, always keening when being called his daisy.

Then you nod, granting him permission.

“Please kiss me, Heeseung.”

There’s a tiny quirk of a smile, before he finally closes the gap between your mouths. He’s careful, caressing the plump of your lips with his own, tentatively and slowly at first, before he captures your mouth in his. You close your eyes.

Heeseung kisses you like it’s sacred. He moves slowly, allowing you to follow his pace and getting used to the feeling of his mouth on yours. It’s gentle and sweet. It’s everything you have imagined sharing a kiss with a lover. 

His lips, soft and wider than yours, easily dominate the kiss with a flick of his tongue.

Your lips part in a gasp and Heeseung takes the chance to prod his tongue in, licking into every corner of your mouth like he’s been starved for you. You clasp a hand in his hair, losing your pace as Heeseung takes over.

With each passing second, the kiss turns into a needier one and you grow hotter. It’s messy now, with drool leaking down your chin and the noises you make getting louder. When you start to feel lightheaded, you tap his shoulders, lungs burning from the lack of breath. 

Heeseung lingers for a second, as if he never wants to let go, before detaching from your lips.

He looks absolutely wrecked. His lips are shiny with spit, panting into your mouth like he needs more.

“Need some air?” he whispers, voice hoarse, caressing your waist tenderly. You nod, catching your breath before you lean in and try to kiss him again.

This time, Heeseung lets you take the lead, grabbing your hips tight enough to ground himself. You mouth at the corner of his lips, peppering kisses across the pinkish skin before he loses his patience and starts kissing back, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth.

Pulling you flush against his own hips, Heeseung is desperate to feel you closer. The scent of his pheromones is taking a richer, darker tone, dripping with building arousal. He wants to stay like this forever—wants to memorise every taste, every curve of your lips, and carve it into his memory.

You’re unraveling just as fast. Driven by a deeper need to feel each other and more, you pool your arms around his neck and pull him closer, instinctively bucking your hips to soothe the ache between your legs.

Beneath you, Heeseung freezes. A strangled groan catches at the back of his throat, his fingers digging into your hips. His head is on cloud nine; he can’t believe you just did what you did, feeling his own lust slowly getting thicker.

Then, as if testing, you roll your hips again.

This time, the sound that leaves his throat is deep and ragged. Heeseung bites his lips, brows pinched together, his restraint visible through the veins popping in his neck.

“Y/N,” he rasps, voice strained. “Good? Comfortable?"

Your eyes, dazed and glossed over, look into his eyes and you nod. You move your hips again, chasing the delicious friction like a lifeline. “More.”

“Fuck,” Heeseung curses under his breath. 

Wordlessly, he snakes an arm around your waist and flips your position. Your back meets the mattress before you can process it, the impact punching a breath out of your lungs. Heeseung hovers over you, chest heaving rapidly, heated gaze raking over your body like he’s already dreamed of this many times.

“Heeseung,” you sigh, lifting your arms to his nape, already hating the distance. “Want you closer.”

Heeseung thinks he’s still in a dreamland, because there’s no way you’re lying down under him, hair splayed like a halo, asking him for more. Your lips, kiss-bruised and bitten-raw from the previous makeout session, are parted in a soft gasp, looking every bit like his wet dream.

No. This is better than any of his dreams.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes out as if he’s in a daze, a willing hostage to your magical spell. “Fuck, I just—I just love you so much.”

The confession lands like a feather drifting through the air. Your breath catches in your throat, searching for Heeseung’s eyes and almost tearing up when you see only devotion and sincerity in his gaze.

“Heeseung…”

“My precious daisy,” Heeseung lowers down and gives a smooch to the back of your ear. Your breath hitches. “My sweet, sweet honey.”

Another wave of heat pools between your legs. His voice—oh Goddess, his sweet and sultry voice in your ears, accompanied by such adoration is almost too much. You whine, clutching his shirt in a desperate grip.

“What do you need, baby?” Heeseung breathes hard into your ears, his own voice almost cracking from restraint. “Tell me, hm?”

“Need you to touch me.”

He barely stops nibbling on the sensitive skin of your earlobe. “Where do you need me?”

You grab one of his wrists and bring it to where you need him most. The moment his fingers touch your soaked sweatpants, Heeseung lets out a deep, throaty groan. He pulls away slightly just to catch the expression you make—mouth agape, eyes closing shut—as he presses a finger on your cunt.

“Here? You like it here?”

“Y-Yes—” You purse your lips, pleading eyes peering into his dark gaze. “Please—More, please.”

Heeseung holds back a smirk. “You’re so good to me,” he purrs, his alpha swelling with pride and arousal. “I’m gonna give you everything you ask for, hm?”

Heeseung slips his hand into your panties and curses out loud at the wet sensation on his fingers. 

“Fuck, Y/N—you’re leaking.”

He props himself on one arm. His long, slender fingers stroke your folds, the wet sound of your arousal filling the room. You claw at his upper arms and arch your hips, letting out a broken breath.

“H-Heeseung!” 

A deep growl rumbles in his chest. Heeseung leans down and peppers kisses all over your cheeks as he flicks his thumb over your clit. The high-pitched, whiny moan that you let out makes his twitching cock kick and drool, already begging to be freed.

“Does that feel good?” he rasps, nudging at your hole with the tip of finger. The tight hole is almost sucking his finger in, eliciting a breathless moan out of your lungs.

You nod frantically, desperate to feel anything inside.

“‘Feels so good, alpha.”

“Mhm,” he purrs, circling your gaping hole lightly, teasingly. “I’m gonna put it in slow and nice for you and you’re gonna take it, ‘kay?”

You suck in your bottom lips, heat pooling low in your stomach at the deep timbre of his voice.

“Yes. Please give it to me.”

Heeseung almost melts at the big eyes you’re giving him. He gives you a soft peck and speaks against your mouth, “Tell me if it hurts, Y/N. I will stop immediately.”

When you give him the green light to go, Heeseung slowly pushes his middle finger in, fighting back a loud moan at the feeling of your walls sucking him in. He pauses for a moment, gauging for any discomfort in your face, and then starts pumping in and out gently when he sees only pleasure.

It feels strange and uncomfortable at first; having something inside you. But the subtle feeling of pain is slowly disappearing the longer he shoves his finger in. His thumb, eager to please you, keeps circling your swollen nub, adding to the building sensation in your stomach.

Before you know it, you’re already leaking out more slick. Your head thrashes to your left and right, breathy moans spilling out of your lips.

“Ngh—fuck—Hee—“

Heeseung forces himself to stay still; forces himself to breathe at the sight of you unraveling and so, so pliant under his touch, even when all he wants to do is ruin you. He inserts another finger, the additional stretch burns so good that you almost cry.

“Heeseung!”

The alpha lets out a heavy, ragged breath as his fingers skillfully scissor you open, willing your walls to loosen for him. His lips fall open as he watches you fist the mattress with a tight grip, eyes fluttering shut from pleasure.

Heeseung thinks he’s about to come just from watching your erotic expressions alone.

“Ah—ah—ngh!” You squirm and whine and writhe, throat scratchy from how long you’ve been keeping your mouth open. 

Heeseung’s eyes darken as he takes in the way the straps of your camisole fall down your shoulders. The soft swell of your chest moves up and down in a rapid breathing, nipples peeking out just enough to tease.

Fuck—you’re a sight to behold.

He can’t think straight, not when every sense is filled up with your thick, heady scent. Your slick, where it smells the strongest, is now pouring out of your gaping hole in waves and drenching his fingers down to his wrist, making the tent in his pants tighten painfully.

“I’m gonna add one more—fuck,” Heeseung almost chuckles in disbelief at the way your body sucks him in. “Your cunt is a little greedy, baby. Might just take all my fingers in.”

You’re already a mess of broken moans and high-pitched, ‘ah—ah—fuck’. The sensation is becoming too much. You have fingered yourself before, but they don’t have the girth of Heeseung’s long and slender ones; reaching deep inside where you can’t get before, or the roughness of the pad of his thumb circling on your clit relentlessly—bringing you closer to the edge faster than you can think.

Heeseung can already feel it. Your greedy little hole is catching at his fingers even tighter, signalling how close you are to cumming. He leans down, latching his mouth on your neck and littering it with bruising kisses that are going to leave marks, increasing the speed of his wrist until your hips lift off the mattress.

“H-Hee—! I’m—God, fuck—“

“Give it to me, my daisy,” he whispers, voice hoarse and rough from arousal, thumb flicking faster. “That’s it. Give everything to me.”

Heeseung watches closely as you close your eyes and mouth falls open as you come, the erotica of everything almost makes his neglected cock bust out. A feeling of intense ecstasy floods your system, crashing through your body, slick gushing out in waves upon delicious waves.

The alpha slows down the movements of his wrist, thumb circling lazily as he lets you ride out the high. He’s already dizzy from your pheromones, so sweet and inviting, that he almost pushes you into oversensitivity.

He plops out his fingers and puts it into his mouth, tongue lapping at the nectarine of your slick like a thirsty dog. His alpha hums in satisfaction at the sweet taste of his omega’s come, all drenched and warm just for him.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Heeseung hovers over your body again, now kissing you hard in pent-up hunger. “I wanna eat you out so badly but I just can’t wait anymore.”

You hum into the kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. Heeseung parts for a moment, jagged breathing hitting your lips warm as he stares into your eyes. His gaze softens.

“Are you okay?”

You nod. “‘M’kay.”

Heeseung nuzzles his cheek against yours, hands sliding up and down your waist before slipping under your camisole and cups your breasts. You let out a half-shocked gasp.

“Can you take more, baby?” He murmurs against your ears, teetering on the edge of sanity as he listens to the sinful sounds leaving your mouth. “Can you take my big, fat knot this time?”

You can’t find your voice, too lost in pleasure as Heeseung kneads your breasts and plays with your nipples. Heeseung drags his tongue along your earlobe, desperate to hear you more.

“Look at these perky tits,” he says as he drags down your camisole, letting it bunch around your waist. His mouth gapes at the way the plump flesh spilling over his fingers, so soft and yielding. “Fuck—you’re so beautiful, Y/N, I will fucking cry.”

“Nnggh!” You cry out when he latches his mouth on your left nub. He sucks and grazes his teeth on your hardened nipple, never breaking eye contact, the wet sensation sending heat straight to your core. 

“Hee!” Your hand flies into his hair when he sucks particularly hard at the bottom swell of your breast, marking his territory. His rough fingers fondle your right tit, rolling the perky nub with reverent attention that makes you clamp your thighs shut.

You squirm, feeling another pool of slick gathering. “H-Heeseung—!”

“Oh, fuck, baby,” he lets go with a pop, lips shiny and slick with his own spit. “Please say my name like that again,” he requests, simultaneously rolling his hips to gauge your reaction.

As he expected—your body, so sensitive and pliant in his hold—immediately writhes from the friction. Heeseung watches with awe, nose twitching as another wave of your scent floods the room, mixing with the sultry accent of his cinnamon and seasalt almost too perfectly.

“Heeseung!”

Heeseung feels so dizzy. His thoughts are only filled with your name, your voice, and your pretty, pretty face that contorts in pleasure when he grinds more. His crotch area is already so fucking wet from pre-cum and your arousal that he thinks he’s losing a chance at any decent and coherent thoughts.

He gives you another roll, and when the name that leaves your swollen lips comes out broken and high-pitched, Heeseung decides that he can’t take it anymore.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, my daisy,” he rasps, leaving one last mark on your cleavage before sitting up. He helps you out of your clothes, marvelling in the way your body trusts him completely.

You’re all soft lines and gentle curves. Heeseung loses his breath as he traces his eyes from the soft mounds of your chest—littered red from his markings, to the narrow pinch of your waist, and the flare of your hips. He caresses the flesh with his hands, gripping it like a love handle as he revels in the contrast of his tanned, big hands on your soft, unblemished skin.

And your pussy—fuck, it’s still glistening from your previous climax and his ministrations, and is now getting wetter under his heated gaze alone.

But it’s the look in your eyes that completely undoes him—pure trust and devotion only for him that he so damn near cries.

“So beautiful,” he praises again, unable to stop the word from flowing out of his mouth. He slides down his hands down your thighs, groping the supple flesh, almost moaning from the sheer softness of it.

“Every inch of you is perfect, baby,” he husks, intoxicated by your pheromones invading his senses.

You hold your breath, peering up at the dominant alpha through your lashes. In a moment of such vulnerability, your chest is filled with affection and trust only for the man now handling your body with care, as if your body was made of porcelain.

My alpha, your wolf purrs inside, heart pounding into your chest.

You spread your thighs wider, so inviting and pliant.

“Alpha,” you mewl, nervously looking up at him. “Please.”

Heeseung can feel his dick twitching from the sight alone. With a swift movement, his shirt is already discarded, thrown somewhere on the floor.

“Say it clearly, baby. Tell me what you need.”

Heeseung fumbles with the strings of his sweatpants as his hooded gaze bores into your hazy one, hissing when his aching cock is finally springing free from the confines of his pants. 

You almost drool at the sight of his weeping cock, standing tall and proud against his abdomen. Its tip is angry red, leaking precum down the length of prominent, bulging veins. Your hole flutters with dripping need.

The words come out so easily now that your pussy is pulsing with an aching need to be filled.

“Please fuck me, Heeseung.”

Heeseung’s lips are bitten raw from restraint, his jaw tight as he forces himself not to move—not to give in to the urge to push forward and lose himself inside you. But before he can move to get a condom from the drawer, your hand snaps to his wrist, shaking your head no.

“Just—just do it,” you bite your lips trying not to squirm under his darkening gaze. “I want to feel you.”

It takes everything in him to stay still—to not reach for you, not pull you back, not ruin this by losing control. Heeseung looks for any doubt in your face.

“Are you sure, baby?”

“Mhm,” you tug at his wrist, guiding his hand to cup your pussy. Heeseung almost combusts right then and there.

“Quick, Heeseung. Need you here.”

“Oh my fucking God—” Heeseung curses under his breath, trying to remain calm. But his body betrays him, his muscles tensing, breath unsteady, as he forces himself to stay where he is.  

He sits taller, his thumb rubbing your clit teasingly. His other hand strokes his cock lazily, flicking his wrist around the erection and hisses when more precum drools out.

The whole time, he doesn’t let go of your eyes, taking in every micro-expressions you make like a greedy man. You’re so sensitive, so expressive, and so, so wet—always so eager to shower him with more slick and more of your sultry moaning.

He aligns his cock in between your folds, grinding the bulbous head against your swollen clit. A choked moan escapes both of you, too fucked over the pleasure. Another gush of slick trickles down your hole, intensifying your scent.

“Heeseung—”

“Shh, baby, I know,” Heeseung coos at the tears pooling along your lashline. He reaches out to wipe it, torn between guilt and absolutely fucking pleasure that he feels from seeing you break apart at his hand like this.

“I’m gonna be gentle, yeah?” He rasps, still rolling his hips, gathering your slick around the tip of his cock. 

He trails his fingers down your wrists before pinning them over your head, hovering over you completely like an eclipse. Then, after what felt like a lifetime, Heeseung finally pushes in.

He doesn’t move after that.

A broken breath leaves him, forehead dropping to your shoulder as if the effort of holding himself back is physically weighing on him. His grip on your wrists tightens just slightly, seeking something to ground him to the moment. Beneath him, you’re trembling from the mix of pain and pleasure, the latter outweighing the former.

“Y/N…” he exhales, voice rough, almost unsteady. “Look at me.”

There’s something in the way he says it. It’s not commanding or urgent, like  he really needs to see you or he’ll fall apart.

You turn your head, meeting his gaze, your expression soft but overwhelmed, lips parted as you try to steady your breathing. It stings, but not enough for you to pull away. Heeseung did a good job at preparing you.

He searches your face like it’s the only thing anchoring him.

“Am I—” he swallows, jaw tightening. “Am I hurting you?”

You shake your head, even though the feeling is new, intense, more than you expected. But the way he’s holding himself back, the way he’s watching you like this could fall apart at any second—it steadies you. Heeseung is so careful, so scared of hurting you that it almost makes you cry.

“It’s… okay,” you whisper, fingers twitching under his hold. “Don’t stop.”

His eyes squeeze shut for a second, like he’s bracing himself, like your trust is something he has to deserve in real time.

“Slow,” he mutters to himself more than to you. “Gotta go slow…”

He barely shifts, testing, careful, measured. Like every movement is something he has to think through instead of give in to. He sinks in another inch, mind floating from the tight sensation of your hole. A strained sound slips past his lips, low and wrecked, his control slipping just enough to show.

“God…” he breathes, almost shaking. “You feel—”

He cuts himself off, jaw clenching hard, like even finishing that sentence would push him too far.

Instead, his hand comes down to your waist, grounding himself there, thumb brushing absentmindedly against your skin like he needs something soft to hold onto.

You can feel it—how much he’s holding back. Not just physically, but everything. The way his body tenses with every tiny movement, the way his breathing keeps stuttering like he’s constantly pulling himself back from the edge as he pushes inside, inch by inch.

And something in your chest tightens.

“You can move,” you murmur softly, a little unsure, but still wanting. Wanting him, wanting every side of him and not just this careful version of him.

His head lifts immediately.

“No,” he says, almost too quickly. Then his voice grows softer. “Not if you’re not ready.”

Your brows knit slightly, a small shake of your head.

“I am,” you insist, voice quiet but certain. “I trust you.”

Your declaration hits deeper than anything else.

For a moment, he just looks at you—really looks—like he’s trying to understand how you can still say that to him. Then his grip tightens again; a firm grip that anchors you to the moment.

“Okay,” he breathes.

And this time, when he moves, it’s still slow—but there’s something underneath it now. Not just restraint, but a crack in it. A quiet, dangerous edge that slips through no matter how hard he tries to hold it back.

His forehead presses to yours, breaths tangling, uneven.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs, softer now. “Anything—you tell me, yeah?”

You nod, already clutching onto him, already feeling yourself giving in to the rhythm he’s so carefully trying to control.

God, Heeseung tries not to lose himself completely. Chanting ‘Go slow, go fucking slow,’ like a mantra in his head is proving to be the hardest test he’s ever been through.

But he still tries—even when it starts slipping crack by crack.

You can feel it in the way his pace stays measured, like every pound into your walls is a calculated move. It makes your heart flutter, really, but you want more. 

You don’t know how to say it without sounding desperate, but your body knows you better. Instinctively, you clench around his cock. The action is not fully registered in your head until Heeseung’s rhythm falters.

“Y/N…” he exhales, your name catching in his throat like it’s too much for him to hold.

“More,” your fingers tighten around his arms, pulling him impossibly closer. “More, please.”

You tighten your walls again, drawing a shuddering gasp from him. His head drops forward as his control stutters, cock twitching inside you.

“Don’t,” he starts, half-warning and half-whining, “Don’t do that or I’m—”

You can’t stand it anymore. You meet his thrust, hitting his navel with yours, gasping because the sensation feels too good. A broken groan leaves him, deep and absolutely fucking wrecked.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes, gripping your hips tighter. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Heeseung kisses up the length of your neck, leaving more marks before he props his arms. When you catch his eyes, something flickers in that heated gaze, like his control is finally slipping away, snapping with the way he pistons his cock into you. You choke out a breath.

“Okay?” he asks, still worrying. You nod frantically, desperately. 

“Yes—please—more—”

Heeseung does it again. Again and again and again until all there’s left is the sound of your broken gasps and the wet, filthy noise of his balls hitting your hole. 

“Still—fuck—still okay?” he asks, voice rough, barely held together.

You can’t form any coherent thoughts, so you nod again, breathless and more certain this time. “Please…don’t stop.”

Heeseung lets out a curse, lifting your hips slightly before continuing pounding into you, faster and harder. A high-pitched moan rips from your throat, the new angle hitting the spot that has you seeing stars.

He watches your face, his own contorting in pleasure, setting a pace that has you blabbering out broken words and more drool.

You feel so full. His cock is so deep inside you, filling you up to the hilt. It’s a strange feeling, but it’s also so, so addictive that you just want more, more, and more. It’s the only thing you can ask for: “More, more—Heeseung—ah—please.”

Heeseung leans down, taking your earlobe into his mouth, alternating his pace between achingly slow rolls of his hips and harsh, sharp thrusts, whispering hotly into your ears.

“You’re taking me so well.”

“So fucking tight, baby, fuck.”

“My daisy. My honey. My everything.”

The heat in your stomach intensifies, building up like a tidal wave waiting to crash. Your nails dig into his biceps, meeting his heated gaze with your glassy one.

“Mate with me, Heeseung. Please.”

Heeseung almost stops, but you’re fast to hook your legs around his waist, urging him to continue. He continues with slower grinding, locking eyes with you.

It’s finally time to seal the bond for good. But even in the haze of pleasure and nirvana, all Heeseung cares about is your well-being.

“Now, baby?” he whispers in between thrusts. He catches your jaw in his hand, thumb brushing your cheeks softly. He knows it’s bound to happen tonight anyway, but if he can save you from the pain longer, he will. “It will sting, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You nod, never felt more sure than now. You lean up to kiss him, breath mingling hotly before you look into his eyes.

“I trust you, Heeseung,” you whisper back. You grind back into him, hips stuttering when his cock thrusts almost sharply into your cunt. 

With broken gasps, you finally say it. “Please mark me yours.”

Heeseung almost tears up from the sheer weight of your words. 

Trust. Yours. Mine.

Something that the old him would’ve never imagined wanting and needing.

But here, as your starry eyes gazing into his teary gaze, Heeseung’s never felt so full and complete. He doesn’t even know that he was capable of loving someone this much; of this overwhelming affection that he has only for you.

A single drop of tears slides down his cheek as he kisses you again, trying to convey his emotions into the sweet touch. You respond just as reverent, understanding him without words being spoken.

“Do you trust me?” he murmurs against your mouth. His hips are slowing down, getting lost in the warm sensation of your breath and your sweetening scent.

You give him a peck. “I do.”

Heeseung smiles fondly. He leaves one last kiss on your forehead before he sits up,  pulling out of you at the same time. You almost whine at the loss of touch, but he’s quick to reassure you.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”

Then, with a dominating strength that makes your stomach flutter, he grabs your waist and flips you over. You arch your back almost instinctively, shoving your ass in the air. Heeseung groans, his alpha howling in pride at seeing his omega presenting like this. His jaw clenches from restraint, absolutely close to losing his mind over this sight of you.

His cock slips back in easily. Heeseung splays a hand over the skin between your shoulders, pushing you gently into the mattress.

You glance over your shoulders, wiggling your ass and pushing it further into his face. “Like this, Heeseungie?”

Heeseung bites his lips, mouth salivating from the sight. “Yeah, baby.” He is so fucking turned on. “I’m gonna move now, yeah?”

At the single movement of your head, Heeseung is already thrusting inside, barely holding himself back. The new angle gives more access to his cock to hit places you didn’t know exist in your walls, sending sparks of electricity to your nerves.

“Ah, ah—nnghh!! Heeseungie!” 

“Keep saying my name like that, baby,” Heeseung drools over the jiggles of your round ass. He kneads the flesh with his thick fingers, moaning at the dimples his nails make by digging into it.

“So soft. So beautiful,” he grinds and rolls his hips, leaning down to bite down on your buttcheeks. You clench around him. “So responsive for me. God—you’re perfect, Y/N.”

“I’m—I’m close—”

“Oh, I can feel it, baby,” Heeseung grunts through his teeth. Your walls keep sucking him back in, as if refusing to let go. “I’m close too—fuck.”

Heeseung picks up his pace, his muscles flexing as he, too, almost reaches his high. He leans down, broad chest meeting your back and noses at your pulsing scent gland, sweat dripping down his chin.

It’s intoxicating, the way your scent blends in with his pheromones, like a perfect match made in heaven—which might not be so far from the truth. He is your true mate, after all, written in the prophecy for God knows how long.

He can feel how close you’re getting, your whining turning needier and messier. His canines sharpen slowly, readying himself to mark you.

You drool into the mattress, incoherent words leaving your mouth. The coil in your stomach tightens, so close to snapping, so close to bringing you over the edge.

And it’s with a flick of his thumb over your clit that you finally give. You go still, shockwaves of your release rippling through your body, pulling Heeseung with you as he cums, spraying your insides white.

Following his promise, Heeseung chooses that exact moment to sink his teeth in your nape, right over where your scent gland is. You yelp, body trembling from the intense feeling of pain and pleasure.

The feeling is otherworldly—like something inside you finally clicks into place.

A warmth blooms from where he’s marked you, spreading through your body in slow, overwhelming waves. It’s not just the sensation—it’s him. You can feel him in a way you’ve never felt before, like his presence has settled beneath your skin, threading into every part of you. 

Your fingers clutch at the sheets, breath stuttering as something inside you tightens and softens. You feel complete, like the quiet ache you never noticed has finally disappeared.

Heeseung groans softly against your skin, almost like he feels it too—like the bond snaps into place just as strongly on his end. His hold on you tightens, not possessive, but grounding, as if he needs to make sure you’re real, that this is real.

He quickly laps at the blood and the wound, tongue gentle now, almost reverent as he soothes the mark he’s just made. His hips slow down, now grinding into you lazily to ride out the wave before you mewl from oversensitivity.

He pulls out after a while and gently turns you back to face him. As soon as he locks eyes with you, Heeseung’s composure breaks instantly, tears spilling down his cheeks. He catches your lips in a wet kiss.

“My daisy,” he cries, cradling your jaw and never intending to let go. “Oh Goddess—I love you so much.”

His voice, broken and gasping with gratitude and relief, moves your heart in ways that unravel you just the same. You kiss back just as hard, heart finally full and complete.

Your omega purrs in satisfaction, and to your surprise, you can almost hear another wolf echoing back to yours. 

It doesn’t take a genius to know that it’s Heeseung’s wolf—your alpha, finally and wholly yours.

Heeseung breaks the kiss only to rest his forehead against yours. Your scent gland pulses, but this time, it’s gentle and grounding, like a mark of a new beginning; a bond now finally healed and sealed.

“Y/N,” he breathes out against your mouth. “Don’t get tired of me yet, okay? I… I cherish you so much. ‘I love you’ doesn’t feel like enough.” 

You let out a soft giggle and pull him closer, sealing your lips with his again.

“Then don’t say anything. Show me, my alpha…show me that we belong to each other.”

As moonlight spills into the bedroom, a blessing from the Goddess for the mated pair, the sheets bear witness to the moment two fractured souls finally become one.

You wake up before Heeseung.

Trying to remove his arms from your waist proves to be a real challenge; the alpha refuses to let you go even in his sleep. You chuckle softly and plant a kiss on his forehead before slipping out of the blanket.

Standing on slightly wobbly legs, you drift into the kitchen, your throat screaming for water. You let the sunshine hit your skin, highlighting your afterglow, as you down a whole glass of water.

The house is quiet. Jay, with the intention to give the two of you privacy, has gone to visit his parents for the weekend. You silently thank him for it. You don’t want to know how awkward it’d be if he has to hear all the noises you made last night.

Just as you’re about to return to Heeseung’s warm embrace, your eyes catch a sign on another door. It’s located at the end of the hallway, a few paces away from Heeseung’s and Jay’s bedrooms. It’s almost unnoticeable, but the name on the sign is what intrigues you to go closer.

EVAN LEE

Evan? That’s Heeseung’s English name.

You know it’s an invasion of privacy, but your wolf is nagging at you to go. So, with almost zero reluctancy, you let yourself inside.

It’s his producer room, you guess, judging from the equipment filling up the space. You let your eyes roam, smiling to yourself when you catch random things that just scream Heeseung.

There are two frames of pictures hanging on the wall, one of his family and another one of him and Jay. The two looked younger, more reckless, a given when you notice the uniform they were wearing. High-school Jay with a neat shirt, tucked in and collar buttoned up while high-school Heeseung was missing his tie. They were smiling bright, already so handsome from such a young age.

You look at the random stickers on his PC—basketball, white cats, and alphabet stickers that are arranged into ‘NI-KI’. 

A pair of headphones sit on the table, each ear decorated with different aesthetics. The left one is full of flowers, tiny stickers of ‘ddeonu’ are left as watermark, while the other is just one big orange cat sticker, and instead of leaving his name in a way that doesn’t stain, Jungwon actually signed with a marker pen.

You laugh, wondering what might be Heeseung’s reaction when that menace did that. It’s Sony, after all, and judging from the sleek design—it’s definitely pricey. But knowing how soft Heeseung is for Jungwon, he probably just let it slide because ‘Jungwonnie is cute’.

This room is so full of everything Heeseung loves. His passion for music and basketball, his affection for his close friends. A thought, not unkindly or bitter, crosses your mind: you cannot wait to leave traces of you here, too—something of yours, beside everything he already loves. 

Just as you’re about to leave, something in the corner stops you in your tracks. It’s a notebook, hidden under a keyboard, like it’s never meant to be found.

You walk over and look at the notebook, breath catching in your throat when you read the cover.

For my daisy.

Is this for you?

With trembling fingers—a result from your pounding heart—you flip the cover. There’s handwriting, unmistakably Heeseung’s, filling up the first page.

These are my silent apologies to the girl I lost. I was too late to love you when you still loved me, but I promise myself that I will start and continue loving you, even when I can no longer hear your echo until the very end.

P.s. park jongseong stop making fun of me this will become a hit album TRUST!

Just like what the note has said, the notebook is full of song lyrics. Each line, each intended melody, each scribble left in the margin—every one of them is meant for you, intended for you, and just for you.

Your vision blurs, heart tightening so painfully it almost aches—because this wasn’t just regret. It was love. Quiet, enduring, and yours all along. 

Heeseung didn’t know how to stay or to cherish—but he’s been unlearning every single bad habit for you. Through your resentment, through your tears, through your silences, until finally, your omega was willing to open up and give him another chance at love.

Your chest swells with affection and pride, echoing with only the name of the alpha.

You reach for a pen and flip back to the first page, leaving your first ever trace in his producer room.

p.s. i love you more, my cinnamon alpha. 

andddd that's the end of it!!1 thank you once again and until next time <3

dividers from: @cursed-carmine <3

permanent taglist: @kristynaaah @seungiesdoll @in-somnias-world @rikismists @loviseamms @ikeupop

fic taglist 1: @bingka @twocupsofsuga @rayofsunshineeee @all4moi @cutehoons02 @barbiecuedotcom @kitteaasstuff @sosocide @lhspeachie @sooooobean @vmpiricou @st4rg1rlies @itsmesofia @dazedinadream @yenienha @fullsunncity @kookieterry @isa942572 @jikookvfans @corroprisz @taesnumber1 @goosemantheweeb @wndrlndhee @jakey1115 @d0llddeonu @zijoan @mheretoreadff @ezekiel-bublz @pomeranyan @mono-for-real

[simjakedly]

fic taglist 2: @ateez-atiny380 @veemegatron @moonlitmyg @savahnaa @heebambilee @graythecoffeebean @vtyb23 @mailovesreading @mimisxs @littleswettea-aine @miamoari @i4zty @hanjisdoll @jetaimz @jungwonswife-real @loveydoveyez @nkmuraxx @zyllynx @pompompurin624 @cstark3000 @matcha-mageee @cyphercii @petulapetula @dark-starry-nubula  @lostgirlysstuff @vissnipherwifey @stickykittendetective @yaragohae @cherryblossom1818 @fantastical54 @taliyotomare @skepticalrogueshrine @b1tterestbeachh @yunjinsart @enbtsbp75 @violetteaismyfavourite @isizzy102 @k3nza @sunsetgenie @hannahlovesenhypen @h0neylemon @scoupsonlycherry @aesolacee @dmstoyangyang @engene12z @sarahtarannum @sisakoekiee @strwyun @skzenhalove @imnotsop @miffikeuu @xllance @heezeunx @rjssierjrie

[simjakedly]

mark me yours - l.hs (part 2)

— a spin-off from love me (k)not

main masterlist | part 1

synopsis. heeseung regrets everything, but his regret comes too late.

pairing. alpha!heeseung x omega!female reader

genre(s). omegaverse, fated mates, strangers-to-lovers, fluff, angst, smut

warnings. MDNI (there will be a warning cut), angst angst angst!!, everyone cries a lot, heavy angst..., slowburn, vomiting, insecurity, depressive behaviour, hyperventilation and panic attacks, attempts (just one attempt), heeseung is so fucking desperate, featuring: alpha!jay (our target again), alpha!jungwon, wolf hybrid!sunghoon, fake-omega!sunoo (pls i love him), beta!jake, beta!ahn yujin, omega!rei, not beta read we die like injang, ok just hmu if i miss anything!!!

word count. 19,810

note. girl wtf tumblr didn't let me post the whole fic!!! im crying, part 3 coming right up!!

For the first time in his life, Heeseung wants to stay.

No. He wants you to stay.

But he doesn’t dare say anything. He doesn’t even know if he deserves to open his mouth. It’s like a knot of uneasiness has lodged itself in his throat, preventing him from moving even an inch of his muscle.

Not that he can even move, honestly. His entire body is on fire, his scent gland is pulsing in pain. But nothing, nothing can compare to the hollowness in his chest.

Nothing comes close to the gravity of the situation, slowly settling in his mind.

Heeseung can’t breathe.

Across from him, you’re leaning on your cheerleader friend for support. Someone he vaguely recognises as Riki’s cousin—Rei, if he’s not mistaken. She has rushed out of the crowd when people had stopped dancing to watch a literal romance suicide happening in the backyard.

“Oh my Goddess—you’re bleeding—Riki! Call the ambulance!”

“Let’s just drive her to the hospital,” Jake, a beta who belongs to the frat house, emerges from behind Riki, looking more sober than the other guests. “It’s faster.”

Among the chaos, of people murmuring in surprise, of your friend and his friend fussing over your condition, you stand there silently. If you were pale before, you’re looking even more ghostly now that if someone were to cut your cheek, there’d be no blood coming out.

He watches you, eyes never leaving your face, begging, pleading through his gaze for you to meet his eyes. But you never do. 

You keep your head low and let Rei and Jake usher you away, steps wobbly and unsteady.

Heeseung can’t breathe.

It feels like he’s underwater and his lungs have turned to bricks.

“—seung! Breathe!”

Heeseung snaps out of his thoughts and realises that his knees have finally given up. He’s on the ground, the tiles bruising his knees as Jay crouches beside him, shaking his shoulders. He realises, as his chest burns and moves rapidly, that he’s been hyperventilating.

Heeseung can’t breathe.

“Oh God—” he chokes, clawing at his burning throat. Sweat dots on his forehead, his face turning red with each passing second. Beside him, Jay is shouting at someone over his head, but the sound is muffled to his ears.

All he can hear is the echo of your voice.

‘I ended it.’

The pain cracks through his chest. The tears are unstoppable now.

‘There’s nothing between us anymore.’

Heeseung thinks he might die.

A violent sob racks through his chest, both of his palms touching the ground. He can faintly sense Riki’s presence around him, the younger trying to lift him up with the help of Jay, but Heeseung’s body is dead weight.

His wolf refuses to move.

This is all your fault, his alpha growls in his mind. 

You defied fate and now we lost her. This is your fault, Lee Heeseung.

Heeseung covers his face, feeling the wetness on his cheeks. His body shakes with every sob, showing no signs of stopping. On either side of him, Jay and Riki have given up on trying to help him stand. The two watch as their friend cries his heart out.

Out of sorrow. Out of grief.

Out of regret.

“I’m sorry,”  Heeseung sobs to no one, the words dripping with remorse.

He looks up, chasing the ghost of you with his guilty eyes—but you’re long since gone. The weight of the abandoned bond now sits heavy on his chest, pulsing in pitiful longing.

“I’m really sorry.”

The space swallows his words, the emptiness a permanent reminder of his too-late apology.

Hospitals aren’t exactly a place you look forward to visiting. 

But right now, you are willing to take anything to escape the eyes. You silently curse yourself for pulling that scene in a place where privacy is a luxury, but at least now you have escaped from it. 

From Heeseung.

Most importantly, from the consequences of your actions.

You bring your finger to your nape and graze the scent gland gently. The pain it has borne for the last two weeks has finally stopped. It brings great relief to you, really—not having to feel the slow death of being an unwanted mate. But freedom has its cost.

You’ve never felt so empty.

You don’t know how your omega did it, but the bond is severed. Traces of Heeseung’s pheromones are nowhere to be found. Gone are the warm, spicy cinnamon and the cool, salty sea air that used to linger around your sweet scent faintly.

You no longer smell like him. You no longer feel the need to see him. You no longer feel the agonising pain shooting up your spine every time he kisses someone who isn’t you.

Yet you feel empty.

You expected more pain. You expected longing. But your body feels quiet. Your omega, previously hysterical and loud, is dead silent inside. A protest to the Goddess or she’s just genuinely exhausted, you don’t know. You can’t put it past her if it’s both.

You sigh, dropping your hand on your lap as you stare at the blood stain on the sleeves of your cardigan. You pay no mind to the nurses and patients passing by in front of you. Jake and Rei left not too long ago, after you managed to convince them that you’ll be okay and that Yujin is on her way.

As if on cue, your nose picks up the smell of green tea among the sterile and sharp odour of the hallway. Yujin.

“Y/N!” 

Your friend greets you with a slightly breathless voice, clearly running her way into the hospital. She bends down and immediately makes a show of inspecting you, turning your body left and right frantically. When her eyes drop on the dried blood staining your sleeves, she nearly shrieks.

“Who the fuck must I kill?!”

“Shh! Keep your voice down!” You hush her, sending apologetic looks to the nearby people who have become alert of Yujin’s death threat. “And no, you’re not killing anybody.”

“Please tell me what happened before I lose my mind,” Yujin pleads, the worry on her face softening her features. You halt. 

Before you know it, your eyes have turned glassy. The weight of everything—the constant pain, the relief, the broken bond—you finally feel the full force of it. As if the gate has been completely destroyed, it’s so easy to cry now.

You let yourself get pulled into a hug, clutching at the fabric of Yujin’s shirt desperately.

Your bitter scent washes over her, smelling of heartbreak and guilt. You think of Heeseung; of how devastated he looked when you broke the bond, like he had lost something precious—which should be a lie, shouldn’t it? He never acknowledged the bond. He never admitted to it.

Then you think of yourself; of the way you used to carry the pieces of your heart everywhere, begging for him to see the bond that used to tie the two of you together. The bond that you treasured, the bond that bloomed hope in your heart, making you believe in a future together with someone who was supposed to love you. 

Something inside you breaks again.

You had lost something precious.

“I—I ended the bond with him,” you choke, the words struggling to get out. “It’s over. Yujin, it’s over.”

You feel Yujin freeze for a moment before she tightens the hug, feeling her lips touch your hairline.

“But why does it still hurt?” Your chest heaves with a new wave of tears, voice completely broken. “Why does it hurt so fucking much? I ended it, and—and he hurt me,” you hiccup, trying to arrange the string of your sentence properly.

“But I still want to hug him,” you whisper wetly, feeling your wolf stir inside you. “I still want to hold him and tell him I’m sorry for doing this to him.”

Yujin remains quiet, rubbing a hand at your back in an attempt to comfort you. 

“It’s okay, Y/N. You did the right thing.”

She holds you and never lets go. She holds you the way that you wish you could’ve done to Heeseung; in the way that you wish he could’ve done to you.

That night, you let yourself surrender to the grief of something that you almost had. The grief of the tale of true mates that you used to hold close to your heart, longing for the wreckage of potential love that is damaged beyond repair.

You grieve for the love you could’ve shared, the life you could’ve had if only the world was on your side.

You grieve for Heeseung.

For the past of the warm embrace that he once gave you and for the pain he inflicted on you.

Heeseung never knew how hard it was to find you outside of the court and practice room until now.

He realises, with a regret that has become all-too-familiar now, that he knows almost nothing about you. Other than the fact that you can bake, that you’re friends with almost everyone on the cheerleader squad—he doesn’t know much about you.

And it kills him.

It takes him two days of losing sleep, of dragging his legs to classes, of forcing the pain in his chest down, before he finally catches a glimpse of you.

It’s completely accidental. He’s on his way to a group discussion, walking past the cafeteria when a breeze of air passes by him, carrying the soft scent of your pheromones.

Light, blooming daisies and sticky, sweet honey.

Heeseung halts in his steps, his alpha already whining in longing. 

Across the hall, at one of the tables, you sit with your friends. A pair of chopsticks presses against your lips as you listen to your friend animatedly talking about her clumsy professor—something that’s only possible for Heeseung to hear had it not been for his dominant trait.

Heeseung doesn’t know what to expect once he sees you.

A small part of him foolishly hopes that you’d look back to him just as quickly, the way you used to do whenever he steps into the same room as you before.

Another part of him wishes that when he senses your scent, the usual undertone of his own scent would still linger underneath.

But you do nothing of those, completely oblivious to his presence, to his scent—like the mere his walking into the same space as you’re in doesn’t affect you anymore. And your scent is completely bare from any traces of his pheromones, the daisies and honey are completely and only you.

Right, Heeseung swallows thickly. Of course you can’t feel him.

The bond is no longer there.

You cut it a couple of days ago.

The wound is still fresh, pulsing in his scent gland like a reminder of his sin. His heart squeezes painfully, but Heeseung only presses his lips. Not a sound comes out of his mouth. Not even a breath.

He lets the pain course through his body, enduring it for as long as he can. He deserves this, he quietly thinks.

He deserves watching you from afar, feeling the one-sided bond punish every fibre of his being.

He deserves this; sensing your scent whenever you’re near, but no longer having the privilege to hold your eyes and share the same feeling only true mates understand.

Deserves the silence. Deserves you not looking up. Deserves being nothing to you.

There’s a gaping hole in his heart when he realises that nothing is tying him to you anymore. There’s no safety net of the Goddess of the Moon’s fated mates tale. There’s no longer the string that connects the two of you—no reason he can find to be anything to you.

A stronger, more desperate part of him forces him to take the leap. To just take over and charge. His feet shift forward slightly, the dominant alpha in him wanting to just grab you and tell you how sorry he is. He’d beg on his knees if he must, so long as you’d at least spare a glance his way, even if it meant you would look down on him forever.

But you look happier.

His eyes trace the curve of your lips as you laugh at something your friend says. The selfish part of him stubbornly stays to steal the moment, letting his undeserving ears hear your voice like a secret.

You look happier.

Heeseung takes a step back, angling his body to leave. He looks at you one last time, hoping to catch your gaze at least once. Just something—anything to soothe his anxious wolf, even when he doesn’t deserve it.

But you never look back. And something inside him cracks. 

He can feel it—the incoming suffocation building up in his chest, like a storm waiting to happen. Before his scent could turn bitter, Heeseung forces himself to leave, eyes frantically searching for exit.

Heeseung is slowly breaking apart, and he does nothing to stop it.

“You’re so—” Jay stops himself, then sighs loudly. “I’ve called you stupid way too many times that I’m actually starting to feel bad now. Why did you skip your group discussion? Jungwon won’t stop asking me for you.”

Heeseung doesn’t react. After catching sight of you at the cafeteria, he’s rushed back to his house, deliberately skipping the group discussion with an apology over a text. The hyperventilation—an occurrence that is frequent now—comes back, and Heeseung doesn’t intend for you to see him unravel like that.

Not out of pride or shame. God, no, there’s nothing left of him to care about those. Heeseung just doesn’t want you to feel bad seeing him like that. Because you shouldn’t feel bad for cutting off the bond.

After all, he did hurt you to the point of death.

Jay studies his friend, watching as Heeseung sits in his producer chair and stares blankly at the monitor. He was just about to go for a gym session with Riki, but decided to stay at home after Heeseung burst through the door, gasping for air with a red face. And it broke his heart.

Calling out Heeseung for his ignorance is one thing that he’s not sorry for, but seeing him in this condition? It kills him. He just wants everyone to stop hurting each other. But first of all, he knows he has to start with Heeseung.

“Hee,” he calls, but Heeseung barely moves. Jay presses his lips. “Hee—”

“I saw her.”

Jay pauses, holding back his tongue when he hears his voice. He waits patiently, giving Heeseung the space he needs. 

But Heeseung doesn’t say another word for a few extended seconds, just sitting there like he was talking to himself. If it weren’t for the small movement of his chest, Jay would’ve panicked and thought that he’d lost his friend. 

It is quiet until his voice, smaller and quieter, echoes inside the room again.

“She always looks prettier than the last time I see her.”

There’s a heavy silence between them. Jay takes the chance to look around the room. 

It’s Heeseung’s producer room, the room Jay let him take to do whatever he wanted with it. The lighting inside this room is moody, dim purple and blue LED lights alternating every minute. 

The glow washes over everything in slow pulses—across the mixing console, the twin monitors, the mess he never bothered to clean. Cables snake along the floor like they’ve settled there for good, curling around the legs of the desk. A track sits paused on the screen, its waveform frozen mid-breath, like it, too, is waiting for something to break.

Jay slowly exhales, his chest tightening as his gaze drifts from a closed notebook to the abandoned headphones hanging at the edge of the console. This room feels less alive—not like what he last remembers of it.

It used to pulse with passion. Whenever he walked in, Heeseung was always up to something. The bass would play like a behind the scene, his sweet voice would sometimes blend with the strum of his newly-bought acoustic. There’d be balls of crumpled papers rolling on the floor, rejected lyrics that he’d still pick up and look back before he went to sleep.

But now, the room is too clean. Ever since he carried Heeseung on his back from Jake’s frat house a few days ago, this producer room has been nothing more than a haunted house.

And at the center of it, is his dying friend.

“Hee,” Jay starts, breaking the silence. He gives his words a lot of thoughts, carefully curated to make it clear that he cares. “Heeseung, you must do something. Or you’ll die, and I won’t let you die.”

Jay grabs his shoulder and turns him around, the chair spinning to face him. Heeseung’s face is void of any colour, sunken eyes looking like faded embers. His lips are dry and chapped, his skin dull and grey. Inevitably, something sharp twists in his chest at seeing his best friend in this state.

“God,” Jay breathes out, trying to hide the tremble in his voice. He’s so fucking scared. “You’re dying, Heeseung, and I—”

Jay hangs his head low, closing his eyes as he tries his best to compose himself. Heeseung needs me, he whispers in his head, Heeseung needs me.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Jay takes a deep breath and lifts his gaze. Heeseung is looking away, blank face staring lifelessly at the wall like a portrait of emptiness and grief. His grip on his shoulder tightens.

“I talked to my parents,” Jay tries again, “there is a way to fix this. Two, actually.” 

The moment stretches without any reaction from Heeseung. Jay takes it as a sign to continue.

“We can save this if you…if you can win her back and make her omega want to patch the bond back up.”

The tiniest flicker of something crosses Heeseung’s eyes. His jaw twitches almost imperceptibly. 

“Or,”  Jay licks his lips, preparing himself. “You can cut the bond from your side, too,” he finishes. 

Heeseung turns his head to look at him, wide eyes watering with unshed tears.

“Cut it clean once and for all, Heeseung.”

His lips part, but nothing comes out. Despite his passive façade, Heeseung’s mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and regret.

Fix the bond and face you, which he doesn’t think he deserves.

Or cut it off and lose you for good.

For the first time in his life, Heeseung doesn’t know which option is worse.

The nightclub is still as noisy as he remembers it. Blinding lights that hurt his eyes, loud bass that pierces his ears. People are dancing with their company, seeking friction and heat between slicked bodies.

Heeseung used to be in the center of it all, basking in the attention of perfectly-manicured nails on his chest and the alluring scents enveloping him. A perfect distraction from a rejected demo. A relief for his frustration over a losing game.

The escape he always chose to run from facing negative emotions. 

But tonight, he stands motionless in a corner, lips pulled in a tight line. 

There’s an old pull coming from the crowd. After all, having people worship your body does feel addictive at one point—and Heeseung is no exception to that. He’s used to showcasing his dominance whether it was on the court or in a bedroom, a drug he kept feeding his alpha to the point of no return. He’s used to command and dominate, a trait that helps him as a captain and as a pleaser.

Like facing a withdrawal, his hands twitch by his sides, itching to inch forward.

You are feeling bad now, a voice whispers in his head. Go on. There are plenty of omegas that can make you feel better.

Heeseung forces his gaze down. No, he counters.

No more of that life.

Heeseung is dominant in every aspect of his existence—from biological traits down to his own personality and mindset. But when his mind drifts back to the thoughts of you, he finds himself crumbling in submission.

It hurts his pride. God, it hurts so much.

But the ache doesn’t compare to the look on your pale face when you break the bond you shared with him, like cutting an infected part of a root that’d destroy your field of daisies.

Nothing hurts more than being the reason you had to resort to such a critical decision, that might cost you your own life.

The urge finally quiets down after a few seconds of redirecting his thoughts to the more pressing matters at hand. Heeseung smooths down his clothes in an attempt to calm himself.

He’s wearing one of his baggy graphic T-shirts, black and bigger than his frame. A picture of The Strokes, stretched and scratched from use clings to the fabric. Beside him, Jay stands tall in his usual button-up, always looking out of place in the nightclub thanks to his distinguished gentleman image.

On the other side of him, is a cute menace.

“Okay!” Sunoo claps his hand, adjusting the collar of his yellow sweater. “This is a bad idea, but since you’re a masochist, let’s do what we’re here for!”

The sass in his speech doesn’t go unnoticed by both alphas. Jay lets out a big sigh, already massaging his temple, while Heeseung only gives him a side-eye, hardly offended by his words. 

He’s right, of course. Sunoo’s never wrong.

The brown-haired boy, feigning ignorance to the stares he’s receiving, continues. “Since you want to cut the bond clean—”

Jay interrupts sharply. “Try to cut it clean.”

“Right,” Sunoo gives a small smile. “Since we want to try cutting it off clean,” he makes a show of slicing the air with his hand, “let’s find you an omega and see if you can kiss her or him without throwing up.”

Heeseung lets the bass swallow his voice, already hating the idea inside his head. Which is ironic, because just a few days ago, he was adamant on trying to convince himself that he didn’t have a mate.

Oh, well. Just look at him now.

Jay seems to share the same sentiment as him. “This can either turn worse or better. Are you sure you’re doing this?” Jay looks back from Heeseung to Sunoo. “Can’t we find other ways?”

Sunoo taps his chin, looking serious for the first time that night. 

“I don’t think we can. The one breaking the bond should be his wolf,” he starts, pointing to Heeseung’s chest. “And since he’s been giving Heeseung a silent treatment, we have no idea where he stands now. This is the only way to trigger a reaction.”

Heeseung thinks he’s had enough of being talked about like a case study. “What do you mean? We don’t know where he stands now?”

Sunoo pats his shoulder, understanding his confusion. “Yeap. We don’t know whether your wolf is okay with cutting the bond with Y/N and finding another mate, or if he still wants Y/N and wants to fix the bond with her.”

Heeseung blinks, confused. “But she’s already cut—”

“It’s one-sided, Heeseungie hyung. Your wolf didn’t agree with the breakup,” Sunoo then lowers his voice, now talking softly when he notices the gloomy look on his face. “That’s why we either cut it or fix it,” the alpha fidgets with the sleeves of his sweater, already feeling emotional. 

“Or you could die, hyung. That’s the reality of true mates.”

He’s right. Heeseung knows, despite being a little devil that he is, Sunoo will never lie about something as serious as this. Especially when it involves life and death.

But Heeseung hasn’t been on good terms with his wolf. They’ve been clashing since the night that he met you, always debating whether you were his fated mate or not. And each time, it was Heeseung who never listened. It was Heeseung who refused to give in, in denial to the possibility of a mate and…love.

Even tonight.

“Let’s just cut it off,” he grunts, his voice grim and clipped. Sunoo and Jay whirl around and look at him like he’s just lost one eye.

“I just told you, we can’t just—”

“He’s not responding, and he never will,” Heeseung exhales through his nose, frustration spilling into his scent. “My wolf—”

“That’s because you never wanted to listen to him, Hee.” Jay finally speaks up, cutting the conversation short. Heeseung pauses, his voice dying in his throat.

From his left, Jay’s citrusy pheromones—bergamot and lime with a soft undertone of amber and metal—swirls into his senses with an air of authority. Heeseung recognises this. It’s the accent that Jay uses when he wants someone to relax and listen to him. 

The dark-haired alpha plays with his whiskey, watching the liquid swirl and the ice spin as he speaks. 

“Or to me. To us.”

He lets the words linger, as if begging Heeseung to finally understand. Jay meets his eyes, looking into him with desperation. There is a flicker of something there; something that makes the wall inside him rattle.

“Please. Just tonight. Please try for us. For you,” his voice is lower, shaky, “I don’t want to lose you, Hee. Please.”

“I just don’t want to hurt her anymore.” Heeseung hesitates. “What if I touch another omega and I hurt her again?”

“You won’t,” Sunoo convinces. He nudges Heeseung’s shoulder with his. “For now, she won’t feel anything because the tie is broken. It won’t be easy, but saving yourself means saving her too.”

A heavy silence falls upon them, filled with unspoken tension and pleading eyes. Jay and Sunoo share a look, each of them on the edges of their nerves waiting for Heeseung’s answer.

At last, Heeseung finally relents. A small sigh escapes his lips and he takes a step forward.

“Okay. Let’s give this a shot.”

It isn’t hard to find someone to kiss. It was never hard for Heeseung. He manages to mask his gloomy scent that could shoo people away from him and gets into his flirty mode. His smile, though a little strained on the edges, still looks pretty as ever.

Soon enough, he already has an omega in his arms, tucked away in a dimmed corner near the bar. Sunoo and Jay keep a safe distance from him, not too close to intrude but not too far out of his sight.

“You’re so tall,” the omega purrs, gliding her pretty nail up his arm. Heeseung barely responds. “Tall and so handsome.”

His heart is telling him how out-of-place the touch feels. The familiar feeling comes back. The same feeling he ignored for two weeks in fear of confronting his own destiny. The same feeling he buried for the sake of proving to no one but himself that he’d do fine without you; without the sacred bond that connected you both.

He wants to flee. He wants to push her away and scratch at the spot where she’s touched him. Where her skin meets his skin, Heeseung feels the strongest urge to recoil. The same nausea returns, clouded by her scent that doesn’t sit well in his nose. 

But his rational mind reminds him of the intention behind this.

“Yeah?” He tries, struggling to look her in the eyes. He tightens his grip on her waist and hesitates before pulling her slightly closer. “I’ll need to bend down to kiss you, then.”

The girl lets out an airy giggle. She circles her arms around his neck and pulls him down, peering at him through her lashes seductively. “Mhm, bent down enough?”

Heeseung freezes. It’s going to happen. Heeseung fights the urge to turn his face away, but Sunoo’s words serve as a reminder that stops him from doing so. 

Saving yourself means saving her, too.

Shakily, he exhales, closing the gap between their lips as slowly as he can. His heart is angry behind his ribs, his pulse rushing loudly in his ears. Heeseung braces himself until the pout of her lips brushes against his.

The kiss starts gently, mainly initiated by her. Heeseung tries to follow, tries to lead, but the feeling of her mouth on his feels so wrong. It doesn’t feel right. It’s like fitting a triangle puzzle with round pieces.

He opens his mouth, trying to deepen his kiss when something inside him stirs.

No. His wolf finally speaks. It’s no longer distant and muffled.

Like a wolf being reborn from the first death, this time, his voice is sharp and clear. 

Not her.

Heeseung closes his eyes, feeling a bile rising behind his throat. But instead of darkness, what he sees instead is an image of you. Your soft features, your silky hair, and your pretty, pretty eyes that he can only see in his memory. 

The eyes that used to look at him with sparkles of hope, waiting for him to notice the magnetic force of a bond that you shared with him. The same grateful eyes that looked at him under the moonlight, when the convenience store was empty except for the two of you.

His stomach turns sharply he might actually be sick.

Oh Goddess, what has he done to you? Why did he do you so wrong? Why did he think so highly of himself that he thought he was above love and fate?

A drop of tears slips down his cheek.

Before he knows it, Heeseung is already crying into the kiss. Hot, fresh tears seeps into the lock of their mouths, making the kiss taste like salt and grief; just like how his scent smells right now.

I want Y/N. His wolf echoes again, firmer than he’s ever been. We want Y/N.

At last, after weeks of battling himself, Heeseung finally listens to his wolf.

He breaks the kiss with a breath, pushing her gently by the shoulders and putting a distance between them. Head dipping low, Heeseung lets himself cry, watching the tears drop from the tip of his nose to the sticky floor. The omega is left confused, but she doesn’t say a word.

If anything, Heeseung looks so pitiful that she forgets about feeling upset.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m sorry,” he hiccups, bringing his hands to his face. He doesn’t realise how hard he’s shaking until she places her hand on his shoulders. “I’m so sorry, I can’t do this—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” the girl convinces, pursing her lips into a straight line. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Heeseung doesn’t answer. Drops of grief and regret keep pouring out like a broken faucet, staining his cheeks wet. The sound that leaves him isn’t even a sob; it’s something raw, broken, pulled straight out of his chest.

“My heart belongs to her.”

Heeseung feels his wolf paw at him, finally winning the prolonged war of love and pride. A war whose price may be greater than the sin he’s committed. 

His scent gland is pulsing even harder, as if reminding him of the bond still barely alive. 

With a shaky exhale, like he’s at last allowed himself to be free, Heeseung tries to let it out.

“I think…” his voice breaks, softer now, like he’s afraid of the truth even as he says it. 

“I think I finally accepted that my heart has always belonged to her.”

For the first time, Heeseung doesn’t try to deny it. His wolf purrs, almost crying from relief. 

“And she doesn’t want it anymore.”

It is very early in the morning. Rays of orange glow cracks through the horizon, bleeding light into the ground. Somewhere in the distance, the moon is slowly getting swallowed by the sky and soon enough, the sun is proudly ascending.

It’s a Saturday, which means, there’s no classes scheduled today. But Heeseung finds himself stepping foot on the campus ground. Faintly, from where he’s standing at the car park, he can hear whistles coming from the field. His wolf, who’s done giving him the silent treatment, nudges him to hurry. 

Right. He’s here, abandoning his usual sleep-in on the weekend to find you. It’s the only place he knows where you’d be and he might’ve just bribed Jake to tell him when his football friendly match is going to be.

Taking a deep breath, Heeseung finally moves his legs. His ribs rattle with how fast his heart is beating. He purposely chooses to come fifteen minutes before the match ends—he’s not exactly here to see Jake play (sorry dude). He doesn’t know what to do with himself if he has to wait around for hours just to talk to you. He might go crazy.

Well. That is, if you want to talk to him.

“Don’t discourage me now, you dog,” he mutters under his breath, berating his alpha. 

The field is not that far from where he parked his (Jay’s) car. A few paces more and he’s going to see the vast green-grassed space where a bunch of alphas are running around chasing a ball using their legs.

But to his surprise, the field and the bleachers are almost empty.

“Fuck,” Heeseung curses under his breath and checks his watch. He still has three minutes left before the game ends—if what Jake told him was true. Did they end it earlier than planned? He could’ve sworn he heard whistles just now!

You spent too much time on your pep talk, his wolf rolls his eyes.

Heeseung doesn’t waste time. He whirls around and forces his brain to think quicker. His legs move faster, turning corner after a corner in search of you. 

Where would the cheerleaders go after a game? To the locker room? No, that’s for the athletes. To the car park? That’s possible, but he didn’t cross paths with anyone on the way here. To the practice room? He rounds a corner. Okay, that actually—

A subtle wave of daisies and honey washes over him almost instantly. Heeseung immediately stops, his breath catching in his throat. 

Standing in front of the vending machine, just a few feet away from him, is you. You’re wearing your usual costume—sleeveless top that cuts right at your waist and pleated skirt that ends just above your mid-thigh. But today, the theme seems to be pink. You have your hair up in an updo, a blue ribbon—the official representative colour of the college—is tied neatly around the silky strands of your hair.

There’s only a glimpse of your side profile visible to him, but it’s enough to quiet the prideful alpha in him. He’s not even sure if he’s said it enough, but every time his eyes land on you, you just get prettier. 

For a second, Heeseung thinks he doesn’t mind dying at that moment.

You don’t look up to him instantly, or sensing his presence by his pheromones—another reminder of the broken bond that you used to share. Heeseung gulps down the hurt, clenching his sweaty palms into fists.

A clang of a can dropping in the vending machine booms through the hallway. You bend down to take it.

Call her name. His wolf urges. Idiot, just call her name!

Heeseung gathers his breath.

“Y/N?” Your name leaves his name like a sacred prayer, tender and delicate, like a whisper only the Goddess can hear. You freeze in your spot, finger brushing the can only a fraction.

The silence stretches for a few seconds. In waiting, Heeseung holds back his breath, afraid that another sound from him will scare you away.

But you only straighten up, abandoning your can of drink and turn to him. The edges of your eyes harden at the sight of him. 

You hold his gaze, lips unmoving before you finally say his name.

“Heeseung.”

It’s flat. It’s polite. It’s cold. It’s nothing like the night when you ran into his arms. It’s not warm like the way you called his name before falling asleep on his shoulders, back when your wolf trusted him with your life.

Back when the bond was still there. Back when his name was still written in the stars beside yours.

Heeseung thinks this is worse than death.

“Can I…” he pauses, already fearing your rejection mid-sentence. 

Saving yourself means saving her, too.

He pushes through.

“Can I talk to you?”

The words finally leave his lips, and Heeseung doesn’t move. It’s as if he was intruding; like he was poking your safe bubble and he wasn’t allowed to move without your permission. 

Your eyes assess him, like you’re deciding if he was a threat. Then, with a firm tone he never heard from you, you reply. “I have practice.”

“I won’t take long,” he rushes out, the words tripping over each other. “Please—just for a moment. Please.”

Please.

The one word you’d never expect coming from a dominant alpha like him. Someone who seems prideful in everything he does, who commands attention wherever he goes with his voice alone.

So he does have the courage to talk to you. He does know what he did was wrong on so many levels—and yet.

Yet it took you almost dying for him to learn. 

Yet it took you bleeding on the floor for him to realise.

For once, you really thought you could be the bigger person. You really believed that your heart, as soft as it always has been, would fold and melt the moment his honeyed-voice greets your senses again.

But you were wrong.

Your resentment still lingers, caging your chest in a protective embrace, not daring to lose its heartbeat for the second time.

“No.”

You take a step back, and this time, you make sure it is a line being drawn.

“I don’t want to talk to you.”  

Your verdict echoes like a gavel tapping against a sound block. It’s straightforward. It’s clear. But to Heeseung, it’s a punishment too small to what he did to you.

He tries his best to school his expression, swallowing the lump in his throat with force. He then nods, weakly, then a bit too fast.

His wolf cries, not willing for him to back down so easily. His human part, on the other hand, is split into two. 

Old Heeseung is ready to isolate and never reach out again. Same old habits that used to bring him comfort and distractions. 

This is why you don’t do commitments. Just forget about this.

Another Heeseung, a new side that feels awkward but is still slowly growing, is trying to rationalise your decision and understand your boundaries.

Give her time, Heeseung. The wound is still so fresh.

“Okay.” He finally breathes out, the heavy word weirdly sending relief to his system. “Okay. I understand.”

You don’t move for a moment, just staring at him blankly like he might change his mind, before you nod. You honestly don’t know what to expect, but this is a pleasant surprise. You don’t think you can handle a pushy alpha now—especially the same alpha who had pushed you too far.

You leave without another word, feeling his eyes boring into the back of your head as you round the corner. Once out of his sight, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding,, gripping the wall for support. 

Your heart pounds like a war drum, threatening to break out of your chest. Seeing his face after actively avoiding him seems to be harder than you’d thought. You didn’t know he’d come looking for you on the weekends like this.

The Heeseung you remember always leaves first.

You put a hand over your chest, trying to calm your frantic heart, and realise one thing with a sinking feeling.

Your quiet omega is still silent, lips sealed shut. Not even a word was heard from her since that tragic night.

You sigh. Heeseung’s got a really long way to go.

On the other side of the wall, Heeseung trails after your steps with his gaze—longing, hopeful, and sorrowful.

He’ll wait. He doesn’t know if he’s allowed yet, but he’ll wait.

Heeseung heaves out a long sigh, his throat feeling dry. The vending machine suddenly looks interesting to him. Rows of canned drinks lined up the interior but Heeseung already has his mind set on his go-to Zero Coke.

The can drops with a loud clang. Heeseung reaches down, ready to feel the coldness of the red-canned drink, only to pause when he sees green instead.

Grape juice.

Oh, right. You forgot your drink.

He takes both cans, but his attention on his Zero Coke is long gone. He inspects your drink instead, eyes lingering on the brand like it’s something precious, his fingers wet from condensation.

So you like grape juice.

Heeseung finally learns something about you today.

But waiting is easier said than done. 

Anxiety lives under his skin, prickling in his system like thorns in flesh. Every time he closes his eyes, the memory of you bleeding in the frat house haunts him back. He’d wake up gasping, lungs burning like he just survived a drowning.

Your silence has turned his longingness into a desperation so deep you practically could smell it on him. Heeseung can’t be with himself, not when he’s been spending every hour fighting every instinct to scream your name and throw up.

And that’s exactly how Heeseung finds himself lingering around the business building not long after the last time spoke to you.

He doesn’t know your schedule, he doesn’t know what classes you’re in, or the circle of friends you have other than the cheerleaders. He only knows where you live because he sent you home the night you fell asleep on his shoulders—but he doesn’t think going to your house is appropriate. It’s too private and he doesn’t want to stain your safe abode with his presence. 

Which is why he decided to wait at the campus, at the building he’s not familiar with.

Heeseung never hated himself more than he does now.

Fuck. How ignorant had he been towards the person who was supposed to be his mate?

Is it too late to learn about you now? Is it too late to knock on your door and hold his heart in his hand like a beggar right now?

So Heeseung spends hours waiting for you without even knowing if you’d come to campus today. He messaged Sunoo for help, but it has slipped from his mind just how busy a med student can be. Sunoo’s probably losing his mind over human anatomy again. The text remains delivered until the night falls.

Black sky takes over the horizon, only lending lights from the moon and the stars as a mercy. Heeseung’s feet are numb from walking around and standing for too long. He looks around the emptying hallways, not sure where exactly he is other than the fact that he’s at the business compound—a path where most students use to get to their classes.

He glances at his watch. It’s almost 8 pm. Most classes have already ended, and the last session would have ended half an hour ago. 

You’re probably not here anymore.

Heeseung bites back a groan, licking his dry lips as he turns around to leave. Meeting you at the court is not possible until a few weeks more for a friendly match with that eastern university team again. He can’t possibly wait until then—so he’ll come back tomorrow.

Heeseung knows that he’s a walking contradiction. He vows to respect your decision, to let things go with time. To step back when he’s asked to, to wait around until the tide dies.

However, wasn’t this the way he lost you?

For being too passive. For being too cowardly. For running away.

Heeseung really wants to give you time, but at the same time, he doesn’t know if your ‘no’ yesterday is still applicable today. He should at least try today, right? Or should he wait more?

Fuck. With self-hatred thicker than before, Heeseung curses himself for not knowing. For not understanding. He’s only well-versed about omegas when it comes to sex, but other than that, he doesn’t fucking know. His carelessness and ignorance are biting him hard in the ass right now.

Though, the desperation persists.

He just needs one thing: closure.

Not for himself, but rather for you.

You deserve to know only the truth.

But it’s getting late, and the thin layers he’s wearing aren’t doing a good job to protect him from the chill. Now, he hopes you’re already home, safe and tucked in warmly in your room.

He will try again tomorrow.

Just as he’s about to leave, as if the Moon Goddess finally hears his prayers, Heeseung catches the sound of your voice drifting down the hallway. 

You’re here.

God, you’re actually here.

Before he can overthink it, Heeseung is already on his feet, following the trail of daisies and honey using his sharp senses. And he sees you—just rounding the corner, talking to your classmates while heading towards the exit.

He can no longer hold back the instinct to call your name.

“Y/N.”

You freeze in your spot, recognising his voice in a heartbeat. You hate that you do.

He’s already on his way, closing the distance between the two of you with a look of desperation that seems foreign when he wears it. Beside you, your classmates are already whispering, equally surprised as you are.

“Is that Lee Heeseung?”

“Isn’t the music faculty so far from here?”

You pretend you don’t hear anything and frown instead.

“What are you doing here?”

“Can we talk?” Heeseung blurts out the moment he’s close enough. There’s still an elephant distance between you and him, but he doesn’t dare step closer. 

Can he even be near you? Is he allowed to? 

When there’s no answer from you, he tries again. “Please, can I please talk to you?”

“Just go home, Heeseung.” You mutter, already walking away. You send an apologetic look to your classmates and start to leave, but Heeseung is already hot on your tail.

“Y/N,” he croaks out, the tremble in his voice almost going unnoticed. “I just need ten minutes. No—give me five minutes, please.” 

No response from you. You don’t even know where you’re going anymore, taking a turn after a turn to lose him. 

How did he know where you were? Did he find out your schedule from someone else? What is he doing here? How long has he been waiting for you?

It doesn’t seem like he has another reason to be here. So did he wait around for you?

You bite your lip, not entirely prepared for the inevitable confrontation to happen so fast.

But you underestimate how desperate Heeseung is because he keeps following you like a lost puppy, long legs slowing down slightly so as to not crowd you from behind. Being this close to him allows your nose to pick up on his sense—eye-watering cinnamon spiking with anxiousness with an undertone of a brewing sea storm. 

Heeseung can’t stand the silence any longer.

“I was wrong.” Fuck. If you won’t even look at him, that’s fine. But he needs you to know how sorry he is. “I know what I did was terrible and I—”

“Terrible?” You finally come to a stop and whirl around, your scent brimming with anger. “Terrible? I almost died, Heeseung!”

Heeseung catches himself before he crashes into you. He stares at you, wide-eyed, as you crane your neck to look up at him. The unwanted memory comes flashing back—of blood and tears and regret he’d never move past. 

Your eyes glisten with angry tears, fists trembling by your sides.

“What you did was almost criminal.”

Heeseung flinches. He doesn’t expect the word to land so heavy in his chest, so sharply in his gut. His hand flexes by his side, urging him to cradle your soft, soft face in his hold and pour out every single apology he’s been carrying but he stops himself.

“I know, and I’m not asking you to forgive me,” Heeseung murmurs, suddenly unable to meet your eyes. “I just want you to allow me to fix the bond.”

You let out a laugh. A hollow, humourless laugh. The emptiness doesn’t even echo in the air.

“So now the bond is real to you?” You spit out, venom leaking into your voice. “Wasn’t it all just in my head, Heeseung? Wasn’t it all just my heat messing with me.”

Heeseung is hit with a pang of shame, not expecting you to throw his words back at him. He cowers and lets the full impact of his hurtful choice of words consume him to the bone.

You put a fist over your heaving chest, your tongue getting loose now that the inevitable has come. 

“I thought I was losing my mind,” your voice trembles slightly, treading along something dangerously close to a breakdown. “I thought something was wrong with me. I was sick for weeks and none of the doctors could cure me! And the whole time it was just…”

You swallow, blinking back tears furiously.

“The whole time it was just you choosing someone else over me.”

It’s like sand has filled up his mouth. Every answer tastes wrong and bitter on his tongue. He doesn’t even know what to say to that for how true it is.

How was he supposed to atone for a sin that nearly killed his mate?

“I know,” is the only thing he can whisper. Shame spreads across his chest like a disease. “I know. I—I did that. I’m sorry for not choosing you, Y/N.”

There it is. The truth, bare as it is, lies there like a final verdict. It feels almost tangible for how suffocating it is. It feels almost too cruel for how much it hurts you. It feels almost alive for how hard it is pulsing in your ears.

The dam finally breaks. “How long have you known that we—” your voice catches, silent tears gliding down your cheeks. “That we were fated mates?”

Guilt gnaws at his chest. “Two weeks before the tournament,” he quietly answers, already feeling small.

So since the beginning of your streak of pain. 

You feel sick to your stomach.

“How many of them?”

“What?”

“How many omegas did you fuck to convince yourself that I wasn’t your mate?”

Defensiveness flares up in his chest. “I didn’t fuck them. I couldn’t. I tried—”

“But you still stayed there, trying to prove to everyone in this world that that’s what you wanted and not me!” Your voice booms, no longer holding back on the pain.

Silence rings so loud afterwards, it stretches and stretches until the tension is left in a tight thread waiting to snap.

You stand there, shoulders shaking from sobbing quietly. Long, silky hair cascades around your face as you look down, biting back any sound. 

And every hitch of your voice rips his heart apart.

His wolf, wounded as he is, thrashes inside. Shivering daisies and acrid honey droops around him, eliciting another whine from his alpha. Heeseung braves another step forward, hesitation edging on his heels.

“I messed up. I hurt you all because I tried to prove to myself that I didn’t need you.”

His hands twitch, hovering mindlessly on his sides. 

Heeseung has promised himself that he’d only say the truth from now on. Harsh as it is, bitter as it is—it’s the only thing you deserve to hear. He couldn’t conjure any more lies to protect himself.

God. Even his lies are killing him now.

“I never slept with them. I couldn’t touch them without feeling like I was about to throw up,” he goes on, voice softening around the edges. “I couldn’t even walk into a room without hoping that it’d be you.”

You shake your head. “But you still did.”

He nods weakly. “That doesn’t erase the fact that I did. I  chose to run away because I couldn’t handle the fact that our fate is bigger than what I was willing to hold.”

Our fate.

Heeseung inhales shakily.

“I forced myself to enjoy the touch because I was so fucking busy proving the Goddess wrong.”

A sob escapes your lips.

Why does our fate have to be so tragic, Heeseung?

“I was dying, Heeseung,” you whisper wetly. “Your actions were killing me.”

Heeseung bites his tongue. “I know. I was wrong.”

A minute passes without any words. The hallway is only filled with the soft sobs and sniffles coming from your lips. Heeseung stands, wretched and torn. One leg is urging him to go to you and hold you. Another leg is forcing him to stay because he doesn’t think he deserves to touch you.

What he knows, for sure, is that this image of you crying in front of him will haunt him in his sleep.

After a moment, you finally speak, your voice hoarse.

“I don’t think we can ever come back from this.”

Heeseung’s throat closes up, a sudden stab lodging its pointy end into his chest. No, his wolf cries out. Please, no.

He lifts his hand, longing to touch you, but then decides to drop it. “Y/N. Please—”

“I don’t even know how we can fix this,” you sniffle, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand. “My omega has been silent since the day she cut the bond.”

In response, his wolf whines, trying to get a reaction. But you feel nothing.

Not a stir. Not even a shift. Your omega is deadly unresponsive. If it’s not for your beating heart, you’d think that you’d been dead since that night.

“I don’t know if she still wants this or not. This—bond. You.”

“But do you?” Heeseung can hear his voice cracking, and he thinks his heart is facing the same fate too. He’s sure of it. 

“Do you still want this?”

You are silent for a moment and it’s the longest second Heeseung has ever gone through.

“I—I don’t know,” you quietly mutter. “You hurt me more than anyone ever did, Heeseung.”

Heeseung would have preferred you shout at him than this. He’d rather have the heat of your hatred than this.

This cold winter of your uncertainty. This soft, subtle turndown, like you’re already resigned to the fate of not having him in your life anymore.

Heeseung’s knees hit the ground with a thud before you can stop him. 

It’s not weak, or pathetic. It’s utter devotion, surrendering his heart stripped bare from pride and lies to you. It’s complete submission, one that his dominant side has always found it hard to do but done it so easily when it comes to you.

Heeseung doesn’t do worship, but you’re the only altar he will ever kneel to.

His head hangs low, burgundy hair falling over his eyes as his shoulders shake once.

“I know,” he mutters, sounding wrecked.

Heeseung has his hands fisted on his lap, as though it’s his only source of strength, shaking from the overwhelming desperation brimming in his scent.

“I was a coward.”

You gasp, not expecting such action. “Heeseung, get up—“

“Not until you hear me out,” he pleads.

He lifts his head. Heeseung’s wide, bambi eyes look up at you, veiled with a thick layer of tears. 

“I fought the bond because I was afraid. I was so fucking scared. I was always the one to leave first, to run and detach fast, but you, Y/N…”

His fingers twitch, fighting the urge to reach out.

“You made me want to stay.”

Your breath catches.

“I’m scared because giving in would mean finally belonging to someone.”

His eyes find yours again, looking soft and destroyed all over. Your heart traitorously skips a beat.

“But right now, I’d give up everything to belong to you.”

His vulnerability, raw and edged with hopelessness, tugs at your wounded heartstrings. You instinctively step back from the sheer weight of it.

“Y/N, please. If your omega never forgives me,” he chokes out, feeling the distance like a slap in the face. He bites back the instinct to take your hand, but he doesn’t dare touch you.

Not until you allow him to.

“If she never forgives me, I’ll spend the rest of my life earning forgiveness from you.”

A teardrop spills from his lash line, staining his cheeks wet. 

You give a helpless shake of your head, your resolve slowly crumbling. 

“Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

“Then I’ll show you. I’ll show you that I mean this.”

His knees scrape against the floor as he inches closer. Tears stream down his face in relentless waves, the lower part of his lips trembling greatly.

“I’m not asking you to take me back. I just need permission from you,” he begs, almost sobbing into his speech.

“Please let me try. I want to become the man that deserves you, Y/N.”

Your lips part, a ghost of a shaky breath escaping your lips.

You’re not used to this kind of devotion. 

Not from those alphas who wanted you because they thought having the shy girl who barely talks to men was trophy-worthy. Not from those men who see you as nothing more than their kink fantasies. Not from those guys who thought you were boring and not exciting.

But tonight, as moonlight leaks through the glass of the windows and spills across the floor as if the Moon Goddess has decreed this to happen herself—Heeseung sits there, bruising knees digging into the marble tiles, and begs you to give him a chance.

You’re not used to this kind of devotion, yet you let a small part of your heart, a traitor that it is—flutters from the impact of his words.

You take another step backward, as if being physically away from him would help recover your resolve.

“I…” you can’t find your voice, not when he’s looking at you with regret spilling from his round eyes. Not when he’s gazing up at you like he was a sinner and you were his only saviour.

“I don’t understand, Heeseung,” is the only thing you can whisper, deciding to be truthful. “You were so—so hellbent on trying to deny the bond. You even went to Narin after I confronted you,” you lick your lips, gut twisting sharply at the mention of your captain. You still haven’t spoken to her until this day.

“Why now? Why…change your mind? I already made it easier for you—I cut the bond!” 

Heeseung flinches. The reality slaps him in the face again, presenting him with the consequences of his actions on the table. 

He knew it won’t be easy, but God—hearing the hurt in your voice pains him more than the ache in his knees.

Heeseung almost crawls forward.

“I’m a coward, Y/N,” he breathes out. “Losing you made me realise that I was never trying to escape the bond.”

His head dips lower, shaking it slowly to himself.

“I was trying to escape what the bond demanded of me.”

Heeseung lifts his gaze, raising his hands, gesturing to you like a priceless painting. There’s a sad smile on his face.

“Settling down, staying, being devoted only to you…those are the only things you deserve. Nothing less.”

His voice is somehow louder than the racing pulse in your ears. You know what’s coming, yet you’re still not prepared for the sting of the truth.

“I am everything less than that,” he finishes. He closes his eyes, not willing to see the look you might wear on your face.

There’s a long pause. The world is quiet outside, not even a sound of cars passing by can be heard. Heeseung doesn’t know how late it already is, or how long he’s been on his knees, but he doesn’t care. 

Hurting his knees is the kindest punishment you can ever give him.

You, on the other hand, are beyond devastated. Truly, you don’t think Heeseung could ever hurt you more than he already did. But his confession—fuck.

Heeseung wasn’t ready to step up and become the love that you deserve and it’s killing you that he chose to run instead of try.

It’s killing you that you weren’t an option until fate decided to twist everything around.

With resentment and resignation, you finally decide. 

“The bond is no longer there. You can just forget about this, Heeseung.”

Heeseung thinks being shot to death would hurt less than this.

You, however, are already shutting him out.

“If you need closure, just know that one day I will forgive you. It’s not now, not next week, and probably not in months.” Or years. “But I will.”

There’s a strange ache blooming in your chest. One that comes as a price of letting something precious go.

“I hope that’ll help ease your mind.”

God, the bond was precious to you. Heeseung was precious to you.

How did it come to this?

Across from you, Heeseung is crumbling down.

“No, please—” he chokes, scrambling for some air. He can’t breathe.

“Please, Y/N. Give me a chance to be forgiven.”

“You don’t have to try so hard, Heeseung. The bond is gone.”

“I don’t care about the bond!” He hits his chest with a fist, the pain becoming unbearable. “I hurt you, Y/N. With or without the bond, nothing can change the fact that I hurt you and I can’t live with myself knowing that I hurt someone innocent.”

Heeseung can feel the sting of his nails digging into his palm. Anytime now and he’ll be drawing blood from how hard he’s fisting it.

The tears are welling up in your eyes again but you hold your ground. 

“Please, I beg you, and I beg you hard, Y/N.”

Heeseung clasps his hands, the pink of his nails turning white from how hard he’s doing it.

“I beg you—please let me try to fix this. Please let me earn your forgiveness. Please, Y/N.”

Your heart breaks at the determination in his voice. 

“It won’t be easy.”

“However long it takes,” he pushes, searching your eyes with his glistening ones, his voice raw with urgency.

“I won’t wait for you.”

His eyes burn with more hot tears. 

He’s lost you for good, hasn’t he?

“You don’t have to,” he quietly whispers. “I just need your permission to try.”

You swallow down the urge to scream. His promise sounds bigger than his whole existence, yet your heart foolishly roots for him.

“You can try. But I can’t promise you anything.”

You don’t wait for his reply. Quickly, as if your heels were on fire, you turn around and leave him. 

Alone, still kneeling. Traces of his regret are still wet on his cheeks. 

You hear him sniffle, but you don’t look back.

Heeseung sits alone in the darkness of his producer room.

The space resembles a shipwreck. If Jay didn’t see any crumpled papers the last time he was here, he’d be surprised to see the growing pile of them now. 

Heeseung has tried to write something. Or anything that could get this remorse out of his system. He wants to translate his grief into something that is at least listenable. Not whatever mess he is inside.

But nothing really comes out. 

The bullpoint of his pen ends up writing your name instead. In round letters, in cursive. In shaky hands, and in tears. 

Y/N.

I’m sorry, Y/N…please forgive me.

A word of your name turns into long written words of regret and silent confession. Letters that he will crumple and throw, then pick it up to read back and add more. 

There is a dull ache in his knees, turning purple from the time he spent on the floor for you. He lets the bruise pulse, making no attempts to ice it or stop it. It’s a reminder to him. 

A reminder of the ticket of mercy you barely granted him.

A reminder of the bond still hanging limply by his finger.

It’s not even a pain if he put it beside the suffering you went through because of him.

You’re a coward.

His wolf suddenly speaks, adding salt to the wound. 

Heeseung closes his eyes shut.

“Shut up,” he grumbles, not appreciating being reprimanded when he’s already a wreck. But his wolf, justifyingly so, seems to hold a grudge against him because he doesn’t stop.

I lost my mate because of you. You ran away from her.

“Yes, I did. I know that,” he grunts. He already resents himself for it, why is he wolf making it harder for him as if they weren’t two halves of one soul?

Knowing isn’t enough. Remember the night you made her bleed.

The memory, as if summoned, crawls its way back into his mind. As if he was brought back to that fateful night, Heeseung can feel his gut twisting sharply inside.

Remember the night she trembled and cut the bond because you went too far.

“Stop,” Heeseung whisper-shouts. 

It feels like the room is shrinking and the walls are closing in on him because the air can’t seem to reach his lungs. Heeseung cowers, covering his ears with both hands. The sting of hot tears starts to burn at the corners of his eyes.

Your face, pale and ghostly, haunts the edges of his thoughts. He still recalls how hard you shook from shock. He still recalls the tremble in your legs as you hold onto the door for dear life.

He really went too far.

And if proving his point, his wolf taunts more.

Remember the omegas you touched while she was dying when I kept telling you to stop.

The pen drops and clatters on the floor. Heeseung stands and sways, his vision blurry from unshed tears.

He remembers it.

The nights he spent trying to bury any attachment towards you and the bond. The nights he spent pleasing other omegas despite not enjoying it at all. The nights he spent ignoring the ache in his chest, the voice of his wolf—as if running away would ever be enough to excuse him from his fate.

While all the time, you had been suffering alone.

Nausea creeps up the back of his throat.

“No, please stop—”

His wolf snarls, pent-up anger and frustration finally spilling out.

She could be in someone else’s arms now. Someone gentler. Someone braver than you.

The nausea punches  through his chest.

Heeseung scrambles for the door, yanking it open and stumbles out of his producer room to the bathroom. He barely makes it before his stomach churns violently and doubles over.

He throws up his long-forgotten lunch because he missed his dinner, the bile unforgiving to the spasms in his gut.  Heeseung knees over the toilet until his stomach empties and grief starts to taste metallic on his tongue.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and slumps onto the floor. It’s a ringing silence in his ears before a sob escapes his lips.

Then another.

Before he knows it, it has turned into a full-on wailing. The tears are finally giving up, now streaming endlessly down his cheeks like tiny rivers. 

Heeseung lets himself remember the faces of the omegas he touched. A betrayal of the bond he’ll never forgive himself for.

Heeseung lets himself remember the person you are—someone who deserves protection and affection. Someone who can be literally with anyone; any deserving alpha who knows how to treat you right.

Anyone in this world. Anyone from his campus. Anyone from his team. Anyone from his house.

Heeseung is fast to turn around and vomits again. The image of Jay being the perfect alpha for you makes his chest caves and breaks.

Fuck. Fuck, no. Please—no.

He always made fun of Riki when the younger complained about their too-good alpha friend. He never really understood why Riki is still on edge whenever Jay is around his girlfriend, despite knowing that him agreeing to help with his girlfriend’s heat was purely out of kindness.

But now he knows. Now he fucking knows.

Jay is just too good to be true. Jay never touches omegas carelessly. Jay lowers his voice when he speaks to them. Jay likes taking care of people like they’re his own.

Jay also cares about you. He knows that. The punch he almost threw at Heeseung that night was proof enough.

And in a peak of complete crumbling from his desperation to be forgiven, from his humility to admit to his mistakes—a fast-growing insecurity is piling up in his chest.

Heeseung can’t breathe. 

He’s suffocating again.

A sudden thought flashes through his head. His frantic mind, desperate for some relief, entertains the thought without thinking further.

Just cut the bond too. End this suffering and cut the bond.

Heeseung raises his finger to his scent gland, still thudding violently from the rush of his emotions running in his veins. 

Could he really cut the bond?

Don’t you dare.

“But it’s too painful…” he cries.

She’s my mate! If you end it now, I will tear you apart myself. You will fucking die, Heeseung.

Heeseung folds in on himself, crouching lower on the floor. His whole body shakes from the force of his tears.

“Why her?” he whispers helplessly.

“Why someone so precious? Why her?”

His wolf doesn’t answer. Heeseung is left sobbing to himself, already resigned to his fate and the silence from his alpha.

Because he knows, only the Goddess of the Moon has the answer to that.

Only she knows why he was sent something holy when he’s too ruined to hold it.

You never would have expected to get hurt from the one thing you wanted the most.

Love.

The tale of true mates.

Maybe that’s the reason why most people dislike it. Maybe all this time, it wasn’t because of envy or ridicule. Maybe all this time, people had already realised how destructive it could be before you did.

Something intangible that can only be felt has the power to destroy you through someone else’s actions and decisions? It’s no wonder, really. 

You were just too blind and too delusional for even dreaming of it in the first place.

Life hasn’t been easy since the breaking of the bond. 

You went on autopilot for the first week, just trying to save yourself from a bad attendance record and getting kicked out of the cheerleader squad. The latter proved to be harder to overcome since the source of your pain and the current centre of your universe—Heeseung—was always there on the court, glancing at you at every chance he got.

It’s almost laughable, the way he’s trying to catch your gaze now when he used to avoid it so much.

You dated people a couple of times before, but the breakups were never this bad. They hurt, of course, but this bond seemed to amplify every emotion you felt for Heeseung and yourself. Again, one of the reasons you believe why most people started hating it.

The whole time, you only had yourself. Sometimes Yujin would come into your room to cuddle you and let you cry into her shoulders. She’d stay as long as a med student could—watching movies together, painting your nails, crying with you.

All the time when you thought you craved love, you sometimes forgot that love doesn’t always mean romantic relationships. Sometimes it comes in the form of Yujin waking up before her alarm to make you your favourite pancakes.

Sometimes love comes in the form of Rei, despite the two of you having only gotten closer recently, checking up on you every meal time to make sure you eat well.

Sometimes love comes through a phone call with your parents, asking about your day and showing you the small garden they’re growing in the backyard.

And slowly, eventually, you realise that love also means choosing yourself over the bond. 

Choosing yourself means stop clinging onto the bond. Choosing yourself means not waiting on Heeseung to get his acts right or for the right apology. Choosing yourself means you stop letting the bond and Heeseung dictate how you go about your life from now on.

Heeseung can try all he wants, and you might or might not see his efforts—but you won’t wait for him.

You’re done waiting.

Strangely, it doesn’t feel bitter. The thought of finally letting go of the bond sounds more freeing. Like the air is finally settling in your lungs after weeks of drowning.

You find your way back to the pieces of you since the bond broke. For the first time since you cut the thread, your world revolves around something other than pain.

Life comes back in fragments. In trying out pilates with Yujin and laughing when the instructor turns her back to you because Yujin just sucks at stretching.

In late-night convenience store runs with Rei to eat extra spicy noodles that’ll upset your stomach the next morning.

In falling back to your old study habits and excelling a difficult pop quiz.

In helping the squad choreograph for the upcoming routines—because alphas just run hot and can’t seem to stop challenging each other in sports.

You laugh freely now. You don’t have to spend the night worrying about a thread tugging at your ribs.

You don’t have to overthink about…Heeseung. Not anymore.

For a moment, he becomes a maybe. For a few days when you successfully avoid him, he becomes an ‘if only’. A background noise. A consequence.

A wound becoming scarred.

Nothing more.

Or so you tell yourself.

There’s been barely anything from Heeseung since he fell to his knees for you a few days ago. For a while, you think maybe you scared him too much—frightened him with the possibility that you may never come back, until he decided to let silence become his apology.

But apparently, you just don’t notice him trying.

Heeseung, you realise, moves in quiet devotion.

It starts with a can of your favourite grape juice sitting beside your tote bag every time you come back from the restroom. You assume it’s Rei being sweet as always—the omega has taken a great liking to you since the day you first spoke.

You don’t notice how consistent its appearance is with Heeseung’s promise.

You overlook the fact that it starts showing up the very next day after your painful conversation. 

“But how did he know?” you whisper to yourself, staring down the can like it’s a threat now. 

You turn it in your palm, feeling the coldness seep into your fingers. Then, faintly, you smell him.

His pheromones. Cinnamon and sea salt clings to the can like an afterthought. Like Heeseung didn’t mean to leave his traces but the scent lingers anyway.

It’s been quite a while since you smelled it. Ever since you cut the tie, you no longer can sense his pheromones from afar. It only happens when you’re in close proximity to him, which is very rare to happen now.

Now, as his scent drifts to your senses, you find yourself actually missing it. Missing the warmth and safety it used to offer. Missing the familiarity of it.

Your heart aches.

No matter how forward you’ve moved in your healing progress, there’ll always be a big why living in the back of your mind.

You really could’ve had it  all.

But you don’t let it get to you. In all honesty, it is a sweet gesture and a nice start, yes, but it’s not enough. Even your baby cousin knows that you’re crazy about grape juice. Heeseung didn’t exactly make a groundbreaking discovery with this one.

The thought still counts, though.

It slips from your mind faster than you’d like to admit. Apart from the upcoming great friendly match between your basketball team and their sworn rival the eastern university, you have a business case study pitching competition set in two weeks.

Meetings become more frequent, time spent at the library becomes longer. You wish they would pick another place to do the discussion because the library is literally an air conditioner reincarnate—always too cold for your body. 

The chill autumn air only worsens the cold. Winter is coming and you can’t help but keep adding more layers to your clothes each time you walk out of the apartment to visit the library.

Except today, there is someone already waiting by the library door. A face that you recognise with a single glance. Features that you memorise by heart, stopping you in your tracks before you reach the door.

Heeseung.

His body is adorned with a brown trench coat that reaches his calves, outlining his proportions and tall figure perfectly. He has one hand resting in one of the pockets, while another is holding a pink paper bag.

Burgundy hair curtains his forehead, a complement to his already-handsome features. But the look on his face is forlorn, distant eyes staring into space, looking lost in his own thoughts.

You try not to pay him any mind and start walking again.

As if he was wired to only sense your presence, Heeseung snaps out of his trance and whips his head to you. His eyes soften, lips parting slightly. You avert your eyes.

“Y/N.”

This time, you pretend you just notice him and give him a nod. “Heeseung,” you reply, already moving away to get inside. But Heeseung is fast to stop you.

“Wait! I–I have something for you.”

Heeseung holds out the paper bag to you, his own ears turning the same shade. You blink up at him before trying to peer inside, not yet accepting it.

“What is this?”

“Something to keep you warm,” he breathes out, like he can’t believe you’re actually talking to him. “It’s getting chiller. Please accept it.”

For a second, you just study his face. His round eyes look at you like he’s appreciating and memorising your face all at once. There is something about his expression that looks like he’s hopeful that you’d accept the paper bag, but at the same time, already expecting you to reject it.

After a few seconds of no signs of you accepting his gifts, Heeseung slowly lowers his extended arm. His face falls, but he quickly schools it into a neutral expression.

“It’s okay, Y/N. You don’t have to,” he licks his lips with a swipe of his tongue, already foreseeing the rejection.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask and instantly regret your tone. It’s unintentionally clipped, very unlike you. 

But Heeseung isn’t fazed. If anything, he looks shyer now.

“I don’t want you to catch a cold,” he mumbles, averting his eyes. The pink in his ears has turned bright red—from the cold or from his own shyness, you’re not sure.

One thing you know is that you’re not used to this side of the dominant alpha.

The side that he showed you once before he dipped. That night when he held a heat pack in your hand, insisting on keeping you warm. For a split second, you wonder if it was instinct or if he really meant it, already knowing the answer to it.

It was probably the former.

A gush of chill air passes by and you shiver. Right, you’re still standing outside of the library with two layers of sweater and are still trembling. 

Finally, you take the paper bag from him. Heeseung startles, not expecting the sudden gesture and definitely not expecting the graze of a touch of your finger brushing his. It makes him shudder, like your touch is bigger than the cold autumn air.

“Thank you,” you give him a tight-lipped smile, watching as his expression brightens up. Without waiting for his reply, you’re already heading to the door, ready to leave the alpha behind.

Before the door closes, you hear a whisper of his voice, carried by the bone-chilling air.

“Good luck with your competition, Y/N.”

You wonder how he knew about it, but the moment you sit at the table right in front of Jungwon—one of your teammates—you finally remember that they’re somehow friends. 

The alpha gives you a dimpled smile. “Hey, Y/N. You’re early.”

“You too.” You pause, weighing the words in your head. “Jungwon, do you know Heeseung?”

Jungwon doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he eyes the pink paper bag now placed on the table, then nods to himself.

“Yes. Please don’t get mad at me, though. I’m kind of rooting for him.” He peeks into the paper bag and whistles. “Wow, hyung really doesn’t play.”

You snatch the paper bag and put it on the chair beside you. You’ve peeked inside, and is it a surprise to say that you were surprised?

A bunch of heat packs. A pair of blue mittens. A pack of tissue. A minty inhaler. And the one that contributes the most weight—a can of grape juice, already unchilled. 

It’s that night all over again. The paracetamol that you downed because you did get a headache after a whole night of crying. The wet tissues that you used to wipe your tear-stained face. The heat pack that kept you warm the whole time you sat outside of the convenience store. 

Everything Heeseung picked out has always been too…thoughtful.

While waiting for the rest of your group members to arrive, with Jungwon already typing on his laptop and talking about something you’re too distracted to hear—you’re swamped with your own conflicting emotions again.

Heeseung has always had the capability to care for people. To care for you. He was gentle with you that night. And fuck, you still hate what he did to you—but even the day he called you delusional, he was very soft with the way he talked to you.

The cruelest part is that Heeseung was never incapable of tenderness.

He had simply been too afraid to offer it where it mattered most. 

He told you he wasn’t ready to step up to be the man that you deserved, but that sounds like a flimsy excuse now.

What was he so afraid of?

You really don’t want to make it easy for him, and you’re already ahead of the bond and the concept of love. You’ve already learned your lesson. You still remember the pain.

But, dear Goddess, sometimes you really wish that he was brave enough.

The rest of your group members arrive shortly after, each wearing thick layers like you do. As Jungwon begins the discussion that will continue on until late evening, you reach inside the paper bag and grab one of the heat packs.

Silently, you thank Heeseung in your head.

Just as you have expected, the discussion wraps up when night has already fallen. You stretch in your seat, taking your own sweet time as your group members tidy up.

Jungwon is the last one to leave, carrying his backpack on his wide shoulders. He looks at you finally standing up with a cheeky smile on his face.

“See you tomorrow for the consultation, Y/N. I would’ve offered to walk you home but I don’t wanna ruin the chance for a certain alpha.”

Your brows furrow, not really catching the meaning behind his teasing smile.

“What do you mean?”

“Just make sure to use the front door,” Jungwon is already walking away, giving you a dismissive wave of his hand. “Night!” 

You stare at his retreating figure and then something clicks in your mind. Like an instinct, your heart starts racing fast.

Did he mean Heeseung?

Your hands quickly gather your stuff and toss them into your tote bag. The paper bag from Heeseung hangs tightly in your grip as you near the entrance of the library.

True to your speculation, Heeseung is already waiting outside.  He has ditched his trench coat, now wearing his jersey that shows off his arms. The number ‘1’ and ‘HEESEUNG’ on the back of his jersey stares at you, unmistakingly him.

You quickly move past him as if you didn’t see him. Almost less than a second after, his footsteps are already echoing from behind you.

“Y/N, wait!”

Heeseung is barely panting in front of you, blocking your way home. You sport a blank expression despite the skips your heart is making.

“What are you doing here?”

“I,” Heeseung catches his breath, and you can’t help but notice the goosebumps in his skin. You almost frown. 

What the hell was he thinking, wearing that sleeveless jersey in this weather? The trench coat must be inside his duffle bag, because you don’t see it hanging in his arms.

But the thought remains in your mind. And will probably stay there forever.

You almost miss it when he continues.

“I want to walk you home. No.” Heeseung gathers his voice, now sounding softer, asking for permission.

 “Can I walk you home?”

Your answer is quick. “No.”

You can almost feel the pause in his breath. Heeseung blinks once, regaining his composure after a few seconds.

“...Okay,” he nods, eyes slightly distant like he’s not even sure if he means it. “Okay. But can you let me call you an Uber?”

You shake your head, standing your ground.

“My dorm is not far from here.”

“I’ll pay for it.”

“I want to walk.”

Silence passes by, along with the air that’s borderline freezing. You don’t know if alphas just naturally run hot, because you’re close to turning into ice despite the layers, but Heeseung doesn’t even flinch. 

He finally takes a step back, slightly dipping his head as he nods.

“Okay,” he says again, more like convincing himself. But then he meets your eyes, and the wistful glint of his gaze doesn't go unnoticed by you. Something tugs at your heart.

“At least let Jungwon know when you’re home. Please?” he pleads. “You don’t have to text me. I’ll just—hear from him.”

You purse your lips, giving the alpha a once-over before finally giving in.

“Fine. I will.”

The corner of his lips quirks up but Heeseung covers it quickly. He steps aside, clearing the path for you to go home. You don’t waste time and begin walking, feeling his eyes boring into your skull.

“Please be safe, Y/N.”

You never reply.

The next day, the alpha is not waiting by the door. Jungwon stands in his place instead, the paper bag now has been upgraded to a reusable lunch bag with flower motifs on it.

“Your alpha has a producer meeting today.”

You’re quick to deny.” He’s not my alpha.”

Jungwon ignores you like you’re a wall and opens the lunch bag for you to see.

“Two thermos there. One is chicken porridge, another is hot tea. Not sure if you’re a coffee-person or not, so Heeseung hyung wanted to be safe.” Jungwon speaks like he’s rehearsed it, and to be honest, he kind of did (Heeseung forced him, but you don’t have to know that).

You’re stunned. “What?”

“Don’t worry, it’s grape tea. I don’t know where he got it from, though,” Jungwon shrugs then continues his duty as Heeseung’s greatest accomplice. “More heat packs. I didn’t see you use the mittens yesterday so I told him maybe you didn’t like blue…? So he prepared the red pair for you.”

“Wait, Jungwon—”

“And lastly, a lunch bag with daisies prints, for his most precious daisy in this world.” Jungwon beams wide, dimples curving deep and shoves the lunch bag into your bag.

“How’s his performance?”

“You’re insufferable,” you scoff and snatch the lunch bag from his grasp. You quickly go inside, ignoring the warmth in your cheeks betraying your indifference.

Your mind, another traitor, is filled with the thoughts of Heeseung.

Is this him trying? 

You’re not sure how to feel about it, but your heart surely knows her shits—fluttering like you’re a virgin being courted.

Which, technically, in every way possible—you are.

You try to ignore it. During break, you remember to control your expression as you eat the porridge, aware of Jungwon’s hawking eyes gauging at your reaction.

Heeseung is sure smart to pick him as his wingman. That alpha is a persistent menace.

But no. You’re not going to fold easily. 

Your omega is still silent, and the damage has been too severe. For all you know, Heeseung might be just performing remorse. Only time can tell if he was really sincere and serious or not.

After all, consistency is a great telltale of devotion.

However, as if the world was suddenly eager to prove you wrong, Heeseung keeps showing up. 

He comes again at night, this time fully covered up and looking dashing in his white button up and loosened tie. You guess he just came back from the meeting, judging from the formality of the attire. But you can’t help but let your eyes linger longer on his face, suddenly too conscious of his height.

Okay, what the fuck. He’s always been handsome. There’s nothing surprising about it. 

“Can I walk you home?” 

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when his voice, low and soft, reaches your ears. You shake your head.

“No.” 

“I’ll keep my distance,” he says quickly. “You won’t even notice I’m there. Please?”

You keep your walls steady. “Why are you doing this?”

The question hangs in the air. Heeseung’s gaze softens, but there’s a cloud of doubt swirling behind his eyes now. For the first time, you see the alpha shivers in the cold.

“You gave me a chance,” he says, voice clear and crisp. Like it’s a conviction. Like it’s something he’s deliberately chosen.

“I want to try until you can forgive me. And I know it’ll never be enough. I know I’ll be too selfish to hope…” 

Heeseung swipes a tongue across his lips. He gives you a nervous glance, but seeing how attentive you look despite your indifference, Heeseung almost breaks down.

You’re still kind even in your resentment.

“But I still hope that one day you can accept me as your alpha.”

You hum, trying to sound unimpressed despite the loud thumping of your heart. The bitterness still leaks when you speak.

“You were my alpha.”

Heeseung shakes his head and gives you a humourless smile. 

“No, I wasn’t,” his voice is strained, like he’s holding a storm of emotions with his palm.

“The Goddess might’ve assigned me to be your alpha. But I failed my duties. You were just forced to deal with what fate had chosen for you.”

The moonlight shining on him highlights the tired lines at the edges of his eyes. For the past few weeks, you have no idea how Heeseung was doing. And you know no one can hold it over your head for not caring.

But something in him feels altered. Not gentler—Heeseung had always been gentle in ways he never admitted. 

He seems more humbled. Like the weight of pride is finally bowing his head down, his gaze always sanded down by grief. Every word now sounds chosen, as if he has learned the cost of speaking carelessly.

Heeseung holds your eyes, sincerity spilling over the edges.

“But now I want you to choose me. Not out of obligation, or because fate said so. I want to be chosen because you know I’m the right alpha for you.”

Isn’t it unfair?

You want the resentment to turn into fiery hatred, but your traitorous heart still melts at his devotion. How can you hate him when he makes you sound like you were the centre of his universe?

Still, you hold your ground.

“You know I won’t wait for you. What if I choose another deserving alpha?”

Heeseung’s face goes white. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows, but he still nods.

“I will break,” he admits, the most honest he’s ever been. “But I’ll still pray that he shows you the love I failed to give when I had the chance.”

The sheer weight of his speech almost renders you breathless. Remorse, as if it’s been a lifelong companion, drips heavy in his voice. For a short moment, you can’t hold his gaze—it looks so intense and longing, you don’t know if you can hold this newfound devotion. It’s too deep and full of regret.

It’s after a minute of silence that you finally find your voice.

“You can walk me home from behind.”

You turn around first before he can see the change in your face. Your stupid human heart, as if awakening from the slumber from weeks ago when things were still all butterflies and stolen glances—seems to recognise the alpha now trailing after you ten paces away and fluttering around shamelessly..

The moon shines exceptionally bright tonight, as if the Goddess herself is watching her war-torn lovers patching up the bridge once broken by pride and fear.

“Are you still angry?”

Once you’re home and stripped and showered, you stare at the dark ceiling of your bedroom. The moonlight cracks through the small space you leave open, decorating your bed with stripes of pale blue.

You put a palm over your heart, trying to feel your wolf.

“Are you still mad at him?”

Silence. There’s no response from your omega. You wait for a few breaths before sighing.

“You’ve always been the hard headed one out of the two of us,” you comment, suddenly missing the other half of your soul that’s been so long quiet.

“But it’s good that you are,” you slowly whisper. 

“Because if you’re as soft as I am, then Heeseung would be forgiven already.”

This time, there’s no resistance as the memory of the burgundy-haired alpha comes back—not that he ever left, anyway.

“I’m still mad at him, too.”

You remember the time Heeseung actively avoided your gaze. You used to wonder why, but knowing the answer also didn’t help ease the pain. Knowing that he avoided you because of the bond never makes the pain feel less hurtful.

But the way he searches your eyes now, holding your gaze with a tenderness you’ve never seen before…it softens the pain.

Where he used to run from you, he’s now seeking you every chance he gets. After practice, after meetings, after classes. In sleeveless jersey, in suit and tie, in his usual baggy graphic T-shirts.

Heeseung used to be nowhere to be found, but he’s everywhere now.

The reality of his efforts to try patching up the bond suddenly feels too scary. Because if he’s changed for good, if he’s really putting his all to win back your heart—are you confident that you still can move past everything?

The sufferings you endured. The omegas he slept with. The sleepless spent chanting his name in pain. The night when everything fell apart.

Can you really let them go? 

“I don’t know,” you whisper to no one, a knot of uneasiness tightening in your chest.

“I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

Heeseung seems to find you easily nowadays.

At first, you doubt the people around you. Everyone is suddenly related to him in some ways somehow. There must be an insider that tells him your whereabouts.

Whether it’s Jungwon or Yujin, you don’t know. You hope it’s not Yujin, though. You know she despises what Heeseung did to you, but the beta is also quietly rooting for him. She hid it well, too.

But her cover was blown one night when you were having a movie night in your bed. She was so close and she was typing something on her phone. You accidentally looked, but honest to Goddess your heart almost dropped when you saw Heeseung’s name.

“Why are you texting with Heeseung?” You forced your face into the screen, deliberately ignoring the sudden seeds of jealousy in your chest. 

Yujin scrambled to sit up, but it was too late. You had already seen them all.

Lee Heeseung

did she arrive home safely?

You

Yeap!

Safely tucked in bed!

“Yujin, you traitor!”

“Ow! Ow!” Yujin ducked the pillow you threw at her, but she wasn’t fast enough to avoid your punches. “Girl, hear me out first!”

“Why are you helping him?” you heaved out, glaring daggers at her. Yujin rubbed her arms, jutting out an apologetic pout.

“I’m so sorry…he just wants to know if you get home safe, Y/N. I don’t see anything wrong or invasive about that.”

Your heart stuttered. Did he really do that? But you feigned an angry look.

“So you just agreed to be his accomplice? You’re no different from Jungwon.”

“I mean, I lowkey ship you guys. But he has to grovel first, and I hope he’s been doing it right.”

You rolled your eyes and settled back under the covers. “How long has it been?”

“Don’t get mad at me please.”

“Yujin.”

“He’s been asking me if you reach home safely for more than two weeks now.”

Your breath hitched. 

That’s…since before he started appearing at the library.

And today, as you see Heeseung lingering around the business compound, donning a thin brown cardigan that highlights his body snugly, you’re contemplating whether to assault Jungwon or Yujin through the phone after this.

But there’s no time to think, as Heeseung—curse his dominant trait, really—easily senses your scent and catches your eyes. He gives you a small smile and walks up to you. The grip you have on the strap of your tote bag has turned knuckle-white.

“Y/N.”

“Hey.”

“Have you eaten yet?”

You swallow, trying not to fold. “Yeah, just now. You?”

Heeseung nods.”I have too.” Then he extends a hand towards your tote bag.

“Let me hold your bag and walk you home.”

You hesitate for a moment before giving in.

Fuck, you curse the universe.

Why is he so consistent?

Heeseung knows he’s not being slick when he suddenly makes a detour to the convenience store under the pretense of feeling hungry.

But you follow him anyway, gullible enough to believe that he has more space for more food. Which, actually, you’re not completely wrong. Heeseung loves food. But he’s not exactly here to eat.

He’s here to steal more time to be with you.

The fluorescent lamp hums overhead, the convenience store smells like cooked noodles and microwaved pastries. Under this light, you look shorter than him, reaching not taller than his chin. 

Heeseung holds back the urge to reach out and caress your head. He can’t ruin things now that you finally let him walk you home side by side. That’s progress. A couple of weeks ago, you didn't even let him follow. 

He really can’t afford to ruin it.

Heeseung trails after you to aisle number two where rows of snacks and chips line up the shelves. There’s something almost domestic about watching you hum as you skim through the options.

It feels more intimate than kneeling at your feet ever did.

“What do you usually get?” he asks, trying to sound casual.

You hold up a bag of snacks, a small grin unknowingly splits across your face.

“This one,” you shake the plastic with eyes shining bright. Heeseung thinks he’s lost his breath. “These seaweed tempeh chips.”

Heeseung stares at you like you just handed him a sacred relic, eyes dripping with silent, genuine surprise.

“These are your favourite?”

You blink and tilt your head, not sure how to make sense of his stunned reaction. “Yeah…?”

A small smile breaks on his mouth. Heeseung looks down at the bag of chips, feeling his chest tightens just from that simple information.

She likes grape juice. She likes tempeh chips.

God, I’m learning about her.

His silent meltdown goes unnoticed by you. You walk further and stop by the drinks fridge, already reaching for your favourite grape juice.

This time, Heeseung couldn’t stop the chuckle that leaves his lips. “You really love drinking that, don’t you?”

“I sure do,” you glance up at him. “Since kindergarten, by the way. It’s just so good and cheap. What about you?”

Heeseung’s heart nearly stops.

“I’m sorry?”

“What’s your favourite drink, Heeseung?”

Heeseung forces himself to reply when you’re already looking at him suspiciously.

“Zero Coke.”

“Ah,” you nod, then reach up to where a line of Zero Coke is put on display. You pluck the second can in the line and hand it to him.

“Hygiene tips: always take the second or the third can,” you casually say and tap on the can. “Because everybody touches the first one.”

Then you turn around, drifting toward the candy aisle, blissfully unaware of his turmoil. 

Leaving Heeseung stunned, standing like a statue of racing heart and quiet breakdown as he holds the can close to his chest.

Later that night, after sending you home safely, Heeseung enters his shared apartment wordlessly. He can hear the F1 sportscaster from the living room—Jay must haven’t gone to bed yet.

“Hey, Hee,” his friend greets, sprawled on the couch with a can of beer in one hand. But his focus on the television stops once he notices Heeseung’s red-rimmed eyes.

“Fuck. Heeseung!” Jay rushes to him and holds him just before his knees finally give up. 

The anchor of sorrow and grief that has been weighing heavier since the convenience store run is finally pulling him down. Heeseung drops to the floor, already feeling the tears wetting his cheeks.

“Hee, what’s wrong?” Jay asks, trying to keep the worry in his voice. “Did something happen? Tell me!”

Heeseung shakes his head, curling up into Jay’s hold and sobs even harder.

“Jay-ah,” Heeseung chokes, unable to hold back his sobs.

“Her favourite chips are seaweed tempeh.”

Jay is rendered speechless by the unexpected revelation. 

“...What?”

“Seaweed tempeh,” he sobs, voice cracking. “Seaweed tempeh chips, grape juice, gummy bears. She bakes when she’s stressed. She hates mornings but wakes up early. She has hygiene tips for canned drinks.”

His voice splinters, like a branch breaking down from the tree.

Jay blinks. “You’re sobbing over…basic information?”

“That I should’ve known.”

Heeseung clutches Jay’s shirt, the sadness now palpable.

“Simple things about her that I never made any effort to know because I was so fucking busy being an asshole.”

In that moment, it finally clicks in Jay’s mind. It was never about snacks.

“I was her mate and I didn’t know.”

It’s about regret.

Jay’s expression softens instantly, understanding settling in his features.  He sits on the floor with him, letting Heeseung cry into his shoulders, shaking like a dead leaf. The distressed accent of his spicy and salty pheromones is drenching the air, but Jay fights the urge to scowl. Alphas don’t exactly respond well to another alpha’s distressed pheromones.

Beside him, Heeseung is still sobbing like a child experiencing a trip of his foot for the first time.

“Somebody else could’ve been in my place,” he cries softly. “She could’ve been asking another alpha, ‘What’s your favourite drink?’ and I almost made it not me.”

Heeseung cries for what it’s worth. For the regret and grief of the what-ifs that could’ve happened if only he didn’t mess up. For the gratitude that you’re finally letting him the access to the information only privy to those who are close enough with you.

For the unexpected relief when you asked him back.

“So you’re crying because she let you know her,” Jay concludes once Heeseung has calmed down enough to talk properly.

They’re still sitting on the floor. The F1 show that Jay was watching prior to his sudden breakdown is now playing like background noise.

Heeseung nods weakly. “Yeah.”

“What did it feel like?”

Heeseung gives him a wistful smile.

“Disbelief. Because I can’t believe it feels so easy to just…have this affection for someone over knowing what their favourite drinks are.”

Heeseung looks into the distance, lost in thoughts and memory.

“I never feel this way for anybody. It’s scary, because now I want to know more.”

He stares into the space in front of him, absentmindedly playing with the hem of his cardigan.

“I want to know how she likes her eggs. I want to know which detergent she likes to use. What side of the bed she sleeps on,” Heeseung whispers, voice trembling. “I want to know everything about her and it’s so scary, Jay.”

There’s a pause before he looks down, sounding more broken than he has been tonight.

“It’s so scary because I realised it wasn’t the bond that terrified me.”

Heeseung remembers how happy he felt when you still rub your nose every time you get shy. How excited he felt when you cover your mouth as you laugh—little things he used to know about you that still makes you you.

“It wasn’t.”

Knowing someone has never felt this easy and freeing.

“It was how badly I could love her.”

The confession doesn’t land hard. It settles slowly, like a missing puzzle finally finding its place. His wolf stirs inside, yipping happily at the declaration.

Jay takes a moment to process everything before he sighs. He reaches out a hand and pats Heeseung on his shoulder.

“There, there. You’re making progress, Hee. You’re starting to see her more than the bond you guys shared.”

As if summoned, his scent gland pulses sharply. Heeseung yelps, clutching his nape with a quick hand. His scent spikes dangerously, spicy cinnamon burning the atmosphere.

“Hee!”

“It hurts,” Heeseung chokes, the pain quickly spreading to other parts of his body. “Fuck, Jay—”

Drip.

Both alphas instantly freeze. 

On the carpet where they sit, is a drop of blood, staining the cream-coloured material with crimson red.

Jay slowly looks up, heart beating fast, chanting ‘No, no, no. Please, not you, Heeseung. Please,’ in his mind.

To his horror, the blood came from Heeseung’s nose.

Jay can feel his gut sinking to the floor.

“Hee,” he grabs his shoulders, eyes trained on the trail of blood dripping down his philtrum and his chin. “Hee, listen to me and answer me, okay? Please don’t panic.” 

Inside, Jay is already panicking.

Heeseung tries not to, but his body feels scalding hot. The pain comes in waves, not once stopping even if he were to rip his heart open.

“Heeseung, answer me. Did you tell Y/N about the two options or not?”

Jay’s voice is muffled to his ears, but through his hazy mind and blurry vision, Heeseung can still make out the words.

He shakes his head. “No.”

“Why?” Jay whispers, breathless and shaken.

“I didn’t want to pressure her into thinking she has to choose me to save me.”

Heeseung’s unfocused eyes find him, desperate and so pitiful that his heart clenches painfully. Jay drops his head on his best friend’s shoulders, fear consuming his being.

“You idiot,” Jay sobs, the dam breaking almost instantly. “She might’ve chosen you anyway.”

Heeseung feels lightheaded. Jay’s voice is like a distant dream—something he’s not sure if he hears or not. Dark spots start appearing on the edges of his vision, almost turning black no matter how hard he blinks.

“Jay-ah…”

The last thing Heeseung remembers before he loses consciousness is Jay screaming his name, voice cracking and hoarse.

It’s finally the day of the competition.

Yet you haven’t heard from Heeseung for days.

You try not to make it obvious, nor to show how much you care. Not when Jungwon wouldn’t say anything either.

The younger alpha has been replacing Heeseung instead, walking you home while chatting about anything but the elephant in the room.  

Or, in your case, the wolf in your universe.

There’s a lump of disappointment lodging in your chest whenever you think about it. You think that Heeseung has finally given up on trying to make up. You think that you’ve been too indifferent and unintentionally have pushed him away further than the two of you have ever been.

You don’t know why the thought makes you feel bitter.

“Our pitching is next,” Jungwon whispers next to you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You watch the group before you begin their pitching presentation.

In the first stage, the pitching was done in separate rooms to make it less time-consuming. But your group has advanced to the final stage, and now you have to convince five professionals from the business industry why your business idea is better than three other groups in front of hundreds of audience.

The image makes your blazer suddenly feel too tight around your ribs. You shift, trying not to think about the eyes watching every movement of the participants sitting on the far end of the stage.

Where the hell did this many people come from, anyway? You never see this crowd in lecture halls!

“Y/N. You’re nervous.”

“I’m relaxed.”

“Well, you don’t really smell like you’re relaxed right now.”

You purse your lips. Jungwon is right, of course, except you actually feel like your nerves are on the edge of bursting.

You’re not exactly good with stage fright. Especially in front of all these people whose names sound way too dramatic, like they don’t belong to the normal citizens like you. Their eyes are too penetrative, like they’re already figuring out every single doubt and nerves in your body, ready to tackle with impossible-to-answer questions.

You move in your seat again, trying to find comfort. But the seat is too hard for your tailbone. Beside you, Jungwon leans closer, speaking over the speaker blasting by your ears.

“Are you going to Jake hyung’s after party tonight?”

“His after party?” your eyebrows shoot up. Then you remember the invitation and something inside you sinks.

“Oh. Right. It’s his birthday today, right?”

And Heeseung must be there, you think bitterly, unaware of the withering daisies now wafting from your neck. They’re close friends, after all.

You don’t understand why, or you maybe actually do, but the lump in your chest only gets bigger. Really, you shouldn’t expect much by a man. They’ll always prioritise their homeboys over you in every way, your brain adds to the fuel.

Jungwon chuckles when he sees your frown, showing off his perfect dimples that could disarm any opponent. 

Something clicks in your mind. Yeap. That’s right. You just need to force Jungwon to smile in front of the judges and surely—

“Relax, Heeseung hyung’s daisy. Look to your right.”

You don’t know why. Maybe it’s because of his name finally being mentioned by the younger alpha, or the flutter in your chest at being called his daisy—but your head whips so fast in that direction, heart ramming behind your ribs.

Seated at the front row, standing out too much due to his handsome features and not-so-subtle hair colour, is Lee Heeseung. From where you sit, you can’t really make out his expression. 

But the alpha is already staring at you, burgundy hair swept back neatly to expose his forehead. A small curve of his lips quirks up like he’s been expecting you to notice him.

You sit dumbly as he gives you a tiny wave, not sure what to do now that the alpha is actually here. 

Here. To watch your group presentation and not there: To celebrate Jake’s birthday at his party.

For the first time in weeks, you feel your omega stirs and you almost choke.

“It’s our turn!” 

You inhale sharply, snapping your eyes back to the centre of the stage. The previous group is already receiving applause and walking towards the other end of the stage to join the audience. 

Okay. It’s actually your turn.

You feel sick to your stomach. You almost miss it when Jungwon nudges at you to stand, smoothing down his own blazer as he shoots you a dimpled smile. On the way to the centre of the stage, your mind is nothing more than a whirlwind of overthinking.

Trailing after Jungwon in your heels is nerve-wracking because what if you trip?

Bowing down to greet the judges and audience is scary because what if you lose your balance?

Staring back at the audience is distressing because what if they silently judge your makeup?

But all thoughts fly out the window when you meet eyes with Heeseung again.

As if the noise in your head suddenly vanishes, you can feel your frantic mind quieting down and your breathing, previously quite erratic, steadies without so much effort. 

And it only happens when Heeseung holds your gaze, trusting and comforting all at the same time.

It’s like the stage was a tidal wave and Heeseung was the shore that keeps you safe.

Your omega stirs again.

Before you know it, Jungwon is already passing the mic to you. You take in a shaky breath, sweaty palms almost slippery, and imagine that every cell in your brain is filing up your speech in a neat line.

Despite your worries, everything goes well.

Your presentation goes on without a hitch and it ends exactly the way your best-scenario imagination does. You even manage to answer one out of five questions from the panel, and you can’t help the pride swelling in your chest when your group is announced as the first runner-up of the competition.

It’s a national-level competition, so being in the top three is already satisfactory for you and your group members, who were lowballing to only bring home participation certificates.

“First runner up is good enough! Congrats!” you squeal, almost hugging Jungwon in your excitement. The alpha dodges you as if you were a bullet, eyes darting to somewhere behind your head.

“Hey. You dodged my hug,” you huff.

“I have no intention to challenge a dominant alpha,” Jungwon gives you a teasing smile and wiggles his eyebrows. You raise yours, and before you can ask what he means by that, Jungwon is already raising his hand and waving at someone.  

“Heeseung hyung! Your daisy is here!”

Your daisy. Heeseung hyung’s daisy. 

His daisy.

Crimson red blooms across your cheeks, and your heart decides to skip a few beats you think it’s going to fall to the floor from how fast it's pounding.

Jungwon is fast to grab your shoulders and turn you around, like a proud parent introducing their child to their conglomerate friends. Your protest dies in your throat once your eyes settle on Heeseung’s approaching figure.

He’s donning a white dress shirt with slightly rolled-up sleeves, exposing his smooth forearms and athin silver bracelet. A dark gray vest, tailored and buttoned neatly hugs his frame snugly, showing off his narrow waist. There’s a big bouquet of pink roses held close to his chest, handled delicately like it’s something sacred.

His eyes, round and soft around the edges, are already trained on you. A wide smile curves up his lips, charming and disarming you’re sure the omegas around you are stealing glances.

Inside, your omega stirs again.

“Hi, Y/N.” He holds out the bouquet to you, his smiling turning shy. “For you.”

You take it slowly, admiring the beautiful petals. There are tiny daisies filling up the spaces between the roses and you feel something tug at your heartstring.

 “Thank you, Heeseung. How’ve you been?”

Closer, only now do you notice the lack of colour in his face. His cheeks are losing its radiant flush, and his lips are void of its usual pinkish hue. There’s a slight delay before he responds and his smile comes slower than usual.

Up close, something feels off. Not obvious enough to name, but it’s enough to make your chest tighten.

As if noticing your stare, Heeseung tries to cover his face. He raises his hand and pretends to cough.

“I was quite sick,” he says after a moment, trying to sound casual. He gives you a reassuring smile. “I’m sorry that I didn’t show up without any updates.”

“It’s okay,” you softly say. You don’t know if it’s truly okay, though, because now your heart thinks that there’s something wrong. 

Is he hiding something from you?

“I came to see you,” he says, like it’s the only place he’s ever meant to be. “I didn’t want to miss it. Congratulations, Y/N.”

He really came for you. Not for Jungwon or anyone. Not to Jake or anyone. But for you.

You can faintly hear your omega murmuring something, but your racing heart is louder than any noise in your head.

You’re about to reply when Jungwon inserts himself into the conversation, announcing his presence like a royal entering a ball.

“Thank you, hyung! I know we were great.” Jungwon says way too loudly, forcing Heeseung to shake hands with him. You let out a laugh while Heeseung only rolls his eyes.

“You too, Jungwon.”

“Anyway, why don’t we take a picture?” Jungwon, ever the trusted wingman, wiggles an eyebrow at Heeseung, hoping that you won’t notice. You actually do, but for some reason, you don’t say anything against it.

Heeseung studies your face. “Can I take a picture with you, Y/N?”

You hesitate for a second, heat sweeping across your cheeks before you nod. “Sure.”

Jungwon instantly pushes you in Heeseung’s direction. The dominant alpha, not expecting his accomplice to take such a bold move, catches you by the elbows instinctively. His fast reflexes are proving to be useful in the situation.

“Okay, look at the camera. Y/N, don’t be so stiff!”

Jungwon, that menace. One of these days you’re gonna beat his ass for sure.

“Heeseung hyung, is that a GDP gap? Get closer!”

“I’m sorry about him,” Heeseung whispers into your ears and chuckles breathily. Something kicks in your heart. “He’s a bit annoying, right?”

You just cannot hold your tongue. “He is, and I had to stick around with him when you weren’t around,” you catch yourself saying and silently curse yourself. Beside you, Heeseung stills for a second.

Why are you already whining to him? Fuck these stupid feelings, man. You’re still mad at him!

But Heeseung doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, his grin only gets wider. He leans down further, hot breath brushing against the shell of your ears.

“I’ll keep trying,” he murmurs, edged with his usual determination. “Even if you don’t let me.”

You try not to notice that Jungwon has been silently snapping the candid moments. You also try to ignore the way your heart beats like a war drum. You try not to think too much about the manly pheromones coming from Heeseung—the cinnamon and sea salt that are awakening old memories, and the way his taller shoulder brushes yours.

“On three!” Jungwon interrupts, a boyish smirk on his face. You quickly clear your throat and smile at the camera.

“Two!”

Heeseung’s left shoulder bumps into you softly from behind, angling his body to face you. His hand hovers a safe distance from the back of your waist, not touching you even by accident like he’s afraid even that would be too much.

“One!”

As the flash goes off and you hold the bouquet dearly to your chest, you quietly wonder when it stopped hurting so much.

okay dang tumblr said this post has reached its limits wtf im gna kms!!! anyway posting a part 3 real soon!!!

divider from: @cursed-carmine

permanent taglist: @kristynaaah @seungiesdoll @in-somnias-world @rikismists @loviseamms @ikeupop

[simjakedly]

taglist 1: @bingka @twocupsofsuga @rayofsunshineeee @all4moi @cutehoons02 @barbiecuedotcom @kitteaasstuff @sosocide @lhspeachie @sooooobean @vmpiricou @st4rf1rlies @itsmesofia @dazedinadream @yenienha @fullsunncity @kookieterry @isa942572 @jikookvfans @corroprisz @taesnumber1 @goosemantheweeb @wndrlndhee @jakey1115 @d0llddeonu @zijoan @mheretoreadff @ezekiel-bublz @pomeranyan @ateez-atiny380 @veemegatron @moonlitmyg @savahnaa @heebambilee @graythecoffeebean @vtyb23 @mailovesreading @mimisxs @littleswettea-aine @miamoari @i4zty @hanjisdoll @jetaimz @jungwonswife-real @loveydoveyez @nkmuraxx @zyllynx @pompompurin624 @cstark3000 @matcha-mageee  

damn bro that's a lot of you thank you for loving this silly little series 

[mssishipi]

YOUR TURN — hyung line

YOUR TURN — 1. A phrase used in a gangbang to tell the next person waiting that it’s time for them to step in and get involved. 2. A slut’s opportunity—the moment when it is finally her chance to act, indulge, and surrender herself after others have already taken theirs. The phrase emphasizes delayed gratification, where the receiver eagerly awaits her turn to be used or to participate after hearing others go before her.

content tags/warnings: hyung line x reader, reader is horny and desperate, men are assholes, inspired by the show series euphoria. explicit content (smut): porn with no plot at all, gangbang, face fucking, facials, nipple play, fingering, oral fixation, unprotected sex, degrading language, pet names (baby, sweetheart, darling etc), double penetration, protected anal sex, slapping, hentai like expressions, handjob, overstimulation, tits fucking, squirting, lack of verbal consent in some scenes, choking, pain play, creampie, this is straight up porn but have a potential romance at the end. lmk if i missed something. WC: 17.2K

It wasn't like you were some kind of slut, right?

Who were you kidding? Any girl with a working pussy would drool if she stood close enough to those four men. Not just because of their looks, not just because of the sharp edges of their jawlines or the way their eyes seemed to strip people down without touching them, but because how they confidently carried themselves. Their scent. That mix of cologne and sweat that made your throat dry the second they passed by. It wasn't normal, not the way your body reacted. Not the way your thighs pressed together when you thought of them. But you kept telling yourself it was. It had to be.

Lee Heeseung, Park Jongseong, Sim Jaeyun, and Park Sunghoon. 

Four names that rang louder than any lecture in your university halls. Four names whispered in bathrooms, shouted across freedom walls, written down in anonymous confessions like some fucking campus legends. Everyone knew them. Everyone wanted them. And everyone, at least once, wondered what it would be like to be touched by them.

People pretended to sneer at their lives, at the rumors tied around them, but the truth always leaked through—envy, hunger, the kind of desperate need nobody wanted to admit out loud. Because deep down, every damn rumor about them only made them more untouchable, more godlike.

And then there was that one rumor. The one that tore through the university like wildfire.

The gangbang story.

The most scandalous, dirtiest thing anyone had ever whispered, and yet nobody could stop talking about it.

Nobody could prove it. Nobody knew if it was just a story made up by someone bored, but fuck, if it had been real... if it had been real, then you weren't sure what was worse. The fact that people called it disgusting or the fact that it made your whole body clench with jealousy.

How fucking scandalous. How fucking disgusting.

And how fucking pathetic that every time you thought about it, your chest got tight, your mouth went dry, and all you could think was: if that rumor had ever been true, if those four had ever taken a girl like that, then why the fuck wasn't it you?

"Someone caught Jake making out with a girl from Tourism!"

"Someone said Sunghoon's been fucking that sophomore from another building!"

"Have you heard that Jay is smoking at the back of the building while the TA sucks him off? Geez, what a lucky girl."

"And that cheerleader said Heeseung likes girls who can spread their legs wide!"

Your hands gripped your pen tighter, knuckles turning pale, jaw clenched as the chatter bled into your ears. Every fucking sentence was the same—different girls, different places, different dirty details—but the same four names, always the same four names. It was exhausting, it was maddening, and it was starting to chew holes into your focus.

"Stop it," you hissed finally, snapping your head up to face the group of girls clustered near the corner. "There are people here who are trying to study. Maybe try doing that instead of running your mouths about men and their sex lives. Do you have no shame?"

The table went quiet, their smirks twitching as they shared quick glances between themselves. One girl rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath, but none of them pushed back. They just leaned back into their seats, whispering low but not low enough, as if they wanted you to hear every giggle, every stifled laugh.

You tried to turn back to your notes, but your pulse wouldn't settle. You're not annoyed that they were gossipping.

You were jealous.

Jealous that every rumor had someone else's name attached to it. Jealous that every filthy story, every detail, every moan that lived in their words belonged to another girl and not to you.

Fuck! It's unfair! It's so unfair! Why was it always someone else? Why did it have to be another girl they kissed, another girl they bent over, another girl who got to hear their voices from fucking?

You exhaled sharply through your nose, trying to drown it out, trying to stay steady. But every word of theirs came back to the same thing. Their dicks. Their moans. Their fucking. And all it did was remind you that you hadn't had a single taste of any of it, not even once.

Fuck it. When was it supposed to be your turn?

You tried. God, you fucking tried. You started dragging yourself to every fraternity party you caught wind of, even ones you had no business going to, all in hopes of catching just one of their eyes. You would push through sweaty bodies and strobe lights, pretending to dance, pretending to laugh, only to learn that Jay had already gotten bored and left long before you even stepped in. The disappointment would choke you, but you still kept showing up. 

Like some desperate puppy waiting for scraps.

You started waxing everything, every inch of your body, until your skin burned. You bought bottles of expensive perfume you couldn't even afford, ones that clung to your clothes and hair until it made you dizzy. You thought maybe, they liked girls who smelled clean, who looked like they had their shit together, but deep down you knew it didn't matter. Because how would they ever notice when you didn't even have the guts to open your mouth?

"Uh... do you know, like, how to talk to Heeseung?" you asked, trying to keep your voice casual while your eyes betrayed you, glued to the tall figure across the library.

He was sliding books off a shelf, completely unaware of the way your whole body went tense, your throat dry, your palms slick with sweat. Even from a distance you swore you could smell him, that same maddening warmth that clung to him whenever he walked past.

Your friend blinked, eyebrows raised as though she couldn't believe the words had actually come out of your mouth. "About what? You know damn well he doesn't talk to girls in public. People only talk about how he fucks them hard and then disappears. No contact. Nothing. Ever." She scoffed, dismissing it with a wave of her hand, before her gaze sharpened on you. A smirk tugged at her lips and she let out a loud laugh that made your ears burn. "Wait. Don't tell me you're actually planning something. You think you're gonna get him to fuck you?"

Her laughter made your eye twitch. You felt her gaze scan over you, up and down, picking apart everything you were, everything you weren't. She reached over, patting your shoulder in a way that only made you feel smaller.

"It's okay to dream big," she said, lips curving into a cruel little smile, "but let me shatter that for you. He would never, okay? Hmm?"

Something in your chest snapped at her words. Anger rose, clinging to your ribs until you thought you'd choke on it. How fucking dare she? How dare she look at you like that, laugh at you like you weren't even worth a second glance? How high did she think of herself, how low did she think of you?

But you swallowed it, burying the sharpness down where no one could see. You curved your lips into a laugh that sounded almost real, almost lighthearted, even though your nails dug into your palm under the table. "Silly you," you said sweetly, tilting your head like it didn't sting, "I was just trying to interview him for sports journalism. Don't get too talkative about fucking, though. It sounds like you're reflecting your own frustrations."

You smiled brighter, watching her expression falter for just a second before she scoffed again and turned back to her notes.

You needed to think. You needed to dig deeper into yourself, to find a way, any way, because you refused to lose. You refused to accept being invisible.

Every single morning became a routine.

You would drag yourself out of bed before the sun even touched the sky, forcing your heavy eyes open as you stood in front of the mirror. You styled your hair until not a single strand was out of place, you layered makeup carefully until your reflection looked like someone worth noticing, and you scrubbed your skin until it stung, until it shone smooth under your fingertips. Your closet was picked apart daily, clothes scattered across your floor, until you found the outfit that made you feel like you could walk down the hall with your head high, like you were worth a second glance.

And every time, when the clock struck the hour you knew they would be walking down the hallway, you stood ready. Shoulders straight, steps measured, chest tight with nerves as you waited for them to pass. You tried to look effortless, confident, perfect. But it shattered you every single time when none of them looked your way. Their eyes stayed forward, their voices low between themselves, their expressions unchanged as if you were nothing more than air. Your hands would grow limp at your sides, your confidence bleeding out of you as you glanced behind your shoulder, mouth parted slightly, helplessly staring at their broad shoulders moving further and further away from you.

The frustration followed you. At night, you laid in bed with their faces behind your eyelids, your thighs pressed together until you couldn't stand it anymore.

You touched yourself with the thought of them, not just one but all four, surrounding you, using you, making you theirs in every filthy way you had imagined. You came undone to fantasies of their hands pulling your hair, their voices groaning against your ear, your body stretched thin for them, and the pleasure left you gasping, sweating, shaking in the dark. Yet as soon as it ended, as soon as your heartbeat slowed, you already hated yourself. Because no matter how hard you wanted it, morning would come again, and the cycle would repeat. You'd wake up early, fix yourself to perfection, pass them in the hallway, and watch them ignore you.

The days blurred into each other, but the whispers always found you. Another rumor spread like fire, another story about them with another girl, and it burned you alive from the inside.

You wanted to scream at how unfair it was, how humiliating it felt that you couldn't stop aching for something you might never get. Sometimes you almost laughed at yourself, at how pathetic you must have looked, stuck between jealousy and desperation, unable to let go.

"Wow, what perfume do you use? You smell so good!" Your classmate's voice cut through your thoughts one day, her hand brushing casually across your arm. "And your lotion too? Your skin feels amazing."

The touch startled you, and the question almost made you snap. "It's just Victoria's Secret," you hissed automatically, jerking your hand slightly to free yourself. But the moment you saw her surprised face, you realized what you had done, and quickly masked it with a sweet smile. "Sorry, I'm in a bad mood, forgive me? It's Velvet Petals. But I exfoliate with Dove first. That's probably why."

Her lips curved into a bright smile, her eyes scanning you with something almost admiring. "It's okay! You look really, really, really pretty, you know? And you're so sweet. I just hope you don't fall into the wrong hands."

The way she said it made your stomach twist. You knew exactly who she was talking about, and the mocking tone in her voice when she mentioned "wrong hands" made it worse. Those fuckboys. That's what they all called them, as if the four of them weren't the most wanted men on campus, as if everyone's mouths didn't water at the thought of being ruined by them.

You held your smile, but inside, the anger returned, pulsing hotter than before. They all thought they were above you. They all thought they could talk about them like that and laugh at you for wanting something they secretly wanted too. They were liars, hypocrites, hiding their hunger under judgment while you carried yours openly in your chest.

You pressed your lips together, leaning closer to her so your words came out soft, almost playful. "Maybe falling into the wrong hands isn't always such a bad thing."

Her eyes widened slightly, confusion flickering across her face as you sat back again, smiling politely like nothing had happened.

But in your head, the thought echoed, louder, heavier, filthier.

If those hands were theirs, you would fall gladly.

The party was dragging, the music pounding but lifeless, the people are drunk but boring. You wondered for the tenth time why you even bothered showing up.

The whole campus had been buzzing about this night, everyone whispering about how it would be wild because they would be here. But the most boring part of it all was exactly that—they weren't.

No sign of the four men everyone was expecting. And for that, you hated yourself a little. You hated that you had wasted another expensive outfit, another spritz of your favorite perfume, another hour in front of the mirror just to sit there and look pretty for nothing.

Your cheek rested lazily against your hand as you swirled the watered-down alcohol in your glass. Your eyes lingered on the girl across the room, perched on the couch, laughing with a group of guys who had crowded her like she was the crown jewel of the night. She looked so damn proud of herself, flipping her hair and soaking up their attention like it was worth something.

You almost felt bad for her—because those men? God, they were fucking ugly. The kind of guys who had nothing going for them except being loud and drunk enough to fill her space. And she was pretty, too pretty for the trash sitting beside her, too wasted to notice she could do better.

You sighed, your eyes dropping back down to your glass, watching the last pieces of ice melt into nothing. Maybe you should leave. Maybe you should give up, call it another wasted night, drag yourself back to bed where you could rot under the covers and imagine what it would feel like if the four men ever actually noticed you.

"Hi."

The single word pierced through the noise around you. Your breath caught, and you nearly threw your glass across the table. Your back went ramrod straight as you turned, your heart slamming against your ribs so hard it hurt. When your eyes landed on the figures behind you, everything inside of you went still before spiraling into chaos.

Jake. Sunghoon.

Two of them. Standing there. Talking. To you.

Your throat closed, your tongue heavy, your thoughts shattering into broken pieces as if the universe had finally played its sick joke on you. What the fuck was happening? Jake and Sunghoon—out of everyone in this crowded room—were standing in front of you, looking at you, waiting for you.

"H-Hi?" The word slipped out, so small, so shaky you almost cringed at yourself.

Jake's smile spread, his gaze running over you like he was unwrapping you with his eyes. He didn't hide the way he lingered on the pink silk dress clinging to your body or the way his eyes glinted when he caught the gems glittering delicately across your skin. The weight of his stare made your thighs press together without you even thinking about it.

"Where's your friends?" He shifted his hands casually into his pockets, flashing a smile. "I organized this party, you know. I almost felt bad seeing you sitting here alone."

You swallowed hard, the words tangling on your tongue. This was the moment you'd been waiting for, the one you had begged for, dreamed of, touched yourself over. And yet, your body betrayed you, trembling as you almost flinched under the weight of their presence.

"M-My friends a-are... uh... there." Your shaky hand lifted, pointing weakly toward the dance floor, and the second you did it you wanted to melt into the floor and disappear.

Sunghoon's low laugh broke the air. He leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes fixed on you as if he could see straight through every flimsy layer of composure you were trying to hold together. "And they exclude you? What bad friends you have."

The closeness of him made your brain dissolve. His perfume, his cologne, the sharp tang of alcohol still lingering on his lips—God, you wanted to taste it, to drown in it. He didn't even touch you, but his nearness was enough to make your body tense, your lips parting before you realized it.

"Want to join us?" Sunghoon asked smoothly.

"W-Where?" you squeaked.

"Well, we can drink outside—" Sunghoon started, but Jake cut him off with a voice that left no room for argument.

"At Heeseung's private room." His tone was steady, certain, his stare locked on you, waiting for your reaction.

For a split second, Sunghoon's eyes widened at Jake's bluntness. You caught the quick glance he shot him, an unspoken message passing between them, before his smirk slid back into place. He didn't need to argue. He didn't need to say a thing. Because the moment the words "Heeseung's private room" left Jake's mouth, your body had already betrayed you.

Your lips trembled, your voice breaking into a whisper. "Yes."

And there it was—the one word that sealed everything.

Jake's smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he tilted his head ever so slightly, studying you like you had just handed yourself over. Sunghoon's grin widened, his teeth flashing as he straightened up, amusement flickering in his gaze.

"Good girl," Jake murmured under his breath.

Your chest tightened, your breath caught, and every ounce of you screamed that this was it. The moment you had been waiting for, the moment you had dreamed of, the moment you could never come back from.

And you didn't fucking care.

The door creaked open and Heeseung froze at the threshold, his tall frame stiffening instantly as his eyes landed on the scene.

Jake had one hand tangled in your hair, his cock buried between your lips, his head thrown back as he groaned through clenched teeth. Sunghoon was draped across your back, his chest pressing heavily against you, his hand pinching and rolling your nipples mercilessly while his lips brushed your skin, leaving icy trails that made you shiver.

Your body was positioned like some offering—hands and knees spread like a cat, ass swaying slightly with every thrust of Jake's hips.

"Seriously?" Heeseung's voice was carrying irritation. He shut the door, though he didn't walk away.

The noise made you whimper, muffled around Jake's cock, the vibration of your moan sending shudders up his spine. Jake gritted his teeth and hissed through a laugh, thrusting harder until the blunt head of his dick slammed against the back of your throat. He held you there with one firm grip in your hair, pushing until your nose bumped against the hard plane of his stomach. Your eyes watered, your chest heaved, but the desperation inside you drowned out every thought of resistance.

It hadn't started like this. At first, it was only drinks, games, laughter and teasing, until Jake leaned forward and suggested body shots. You hadn't even hesitated; the heat of their attention had already melted through you, and Jake had almost laughed at how quickly you had fallen into their hands.

And now, here you were, drooling and choking on his cock while Sunghoon twisted your nipples until your whole body jerked with every pinch.

"Your favorite member is here," Jake taunted, his gaze dropping down to you, then flicking toward the figure standing silently by the door. His smirk widened as he forced another thrust into your mouth. "Bro, she's been asking where the fuck you were. You took so long, she already came in her panties just from Sunghoon teasing her tits."

Heat shot through your face as the humiliation wrapped around you. Tears streamed freely down your cheeks, staining the gems near your eyes, but none of it stopped you from flattening your tongue against the base of his cock, licking every inch you could reach while your throat spasmed around him. The shame twisted into a  darker, sharper, more intoxicating feeling than you ever imagined.

This was it. This was the dream. The one you'd fucked yourself to in silence night after night, the one you had burned for. And now you were living it, choking, moaning, tears streaking your face, every filthy detail of it everything you had ever wanted.

You couldn't see Heeseung clearly from where you knelt, but you felt him. His gaze was heavy, dragging over you, making your pussy clench at nothing. You knew he was watching the way your lips stretched around Jake's cock, the way your chest heaved as Sunghoon tortured your nipples, the way you looked so fucked out and desperate already.

"The rumors about us are already spreading, and you have the guts to do this?" Heeseung's voice finally cut through with restrained anger. He stepped closer, his shoes quiet against the floor until his shadow stretched across you. You could feel his eyes on your crying, messy face, and it only made your cunt throb harder, soaking your panties.

Jake laughed through a groan, his hips grinding against your lips as his cock slid deeper. Sunghoon joined him with a low chuckle, his cold mouth pressing into your nape as his fingers tugged the straps of your dress down your shoulders. The silk slipped easily, baring your chest fully to Heeseung's view, your nipples stiff and swollen as Sunghoon's thumb and finger rolled them until you moaned around Jake's length.

"Come on," Sunghoon murmured against your ear, his voice is taunting. "You know we always love sharing." His lips traced your skin as his hand pushed your dress lower, exposing more, leaving nothing for modesty.

Heeseung's jaw tensed, but his eyes betrayed him. He couldn't look away. His cock stirred against his pants, hardening slowly with every sound that left you, with every pathetic little whimper muffled by Jake's cock. He watched the tears streak down your face, the way your hand lifted shakily from the floor, reaching for him.

Your fingers trembled as they hovered against his thigh, then slid higher until they brushed over the hard bulge in his pants. Your eyes lifted toward him, glassy, half-lidded, drowning in tears and lust, staring directly into his.

Heeseung exhaled sharply, his composure cracking.

And when your palm pressed firmer against him, stroking lightly through the fabric, his cock throbbed in response.

Your back arched off when Heeseung's hands moved to his belt. The sight alone was enough to make your chest tighten and your pussy throb, your body reacting with a hunger you couldn't disguise. Sunghoon caught it immediately, his laugh was low against your ear, mocking the way you looked so desperate without shame. He shifted off you, giving Heeseung room.

"Does Jay know about this?" Heeseung asked, his eyes shifting toward Jake and Sunghoon as if demanding an explanation even while his hands were already pulling at his clothes.

Jake's grin widened, still slick with your spit as he slid his cock from your mouth. "It's a surprise," he answered simply, as if that explained everything. His hand squeezed the back of your neck one last time before releasing you, and your body slumped against the mattress, chest heaving, throat raw. But before you could even recover, Heeseung's hands pressed against you, guiding your body flat onto your back, his touch so commanding you followed without question.

The world tilted when the fabric of your dress slipped from your shoulders, your body fully bared under their stares. Sunghoon leaned close again, his nose brushing your cheek as his voice dipped. "Look at those pretty eyes." His words curled into your skin, and you whimpered before turning toward him, your lips crashing into his. The kiss was messy, desperate, your mouth opening wide for him, your tongue tangling with his like you could pull the heat out of him and swallow it whole.

Jake's fingers hooked your panties and dragged them down your legs, his eyes glued to the slick mess between your thighs. The moment he saw your pussy clenching and unclenching around nothing, a growl broke from his throat.

Heeseung's response was just as guttural, his eyes narrowing as he dropped down onto his knees beside Jake, their shoulders brushing as if they were competing for the same prize. Without hesitation, they lifted your legs, spreading you shamelessly open, one of your thighs resting on each of their broad shoulders.

Sunghoon didn't let you breathe. His mouth consumed yours, his tongue pressing harder, his teeth tugging your bottom lip as his hand cradled your jaw, keeping you locked against him. You barely managed a moan into his mouth when the first hot lick dragged across your clit, the sudden sensation shooting up your spine that you tore yourself away from Sunghoon's kiss. Your eyes flew down, wide and dazed, only to meet Heeseung's sharp gaze staring up at you while his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking with deliberate, teasing pulls.

Your mouth fell open, your chest rising and falling rapidly, but you didn't dare blink. You couldn't miss the sight of his face buried between your legs, his tongue flattening against your sensitive bud and flicking so slowly it bordered on torture. Your thighs shook, trying to close, but his grip on your hips was unyielding.

"Hey," Sunghoon muttered, his fingers squeezing your chin until your eyes snapped back to him. His gaze was dark, narrowed, a flicker of jealousy twisting in it. "I was the one who found you. Give me some attention."

Your whimpers came small, but you still obeyed, your hand trembling as he guided it down between his legs. The hard ridge of his cock was burning against the fabric of his pants. The moment your palm pressed against him, your body shivered from the weight of him.

They were massive. You had heard the whispers from other girls, but no rumor had prepared you for the truth. Your fingers wrapped around him, squeezing gently through the fabric, and Sunghoon's lips parted, his breath catching as his hips rocked into your touch.

"Fuck," he groaned, head dropping to your shoulder, his teeth grazing your skin as if your touch alone was enough to push him toward the edge.

And then Jake bit down on your inner thigh, hard enough to make you cry out, his tongue following the sting with a wet, sucking kiss that left your skin marked. Heeseung's lips abandoned your clit, only to press lower, his tongue flattening against your dripping entrance before slurping noisily at the wetness pooling there. The sound was obscene, messy, and you moaned louder than you ever had, the combination of Jake's teeth marking your thighs and Heeseung's mouth devouring you unraveling every last thread of composure you had.

"Shh." Sunghoon's voice was ragged as his hand pressed against your jaw again, his hips grinding into your palm while his other hand fumbled with his belt. His pants dropped down his thighs, and when he freed himself, your eyes widened, your mouth watering instantly at the sight. His cock was flushed and heavy, the tip glistening with pre-cum, so thick it almost made your stomach flutter with fear.

Your legs were trembling uncontrollably, but you couldn't close them, not when Jake and Heeseung had you pinned wide open, their mouths swapping positions greedily between your clit and your entrance.

Jake was hungrier, reckless with the way his tongue plunged into you, his lips sucking against your folds so loudly it drowned out even the bass from the music downstairs. You could feel him moan against you, his hands gripping your thighs tighter, his whole face buried as if he wanted to drown in your pussy.

"Say ah," Sunghoon knelt in front of you, his cock gripped tightly in his hand. You obeyed instantly, your lips falling open, your eyes wide and locked on his face.

The expression he wore was enough to make your stomach twist—his brows drawn tight, his lips parted as if he were biting back a curse, his gaze focused entirely on your mouth as though nothing else in the world existed.

"So eager," he whispered hoarsely, his cock brushing against your lips as pre-cum smeared across them. "Fuck."

Heeseung rose slowly from between your thighs, his lips and chin slick with your wetness, his chest lifting heavily with each breath. His gaze drifted down over your trembling body, then to Sunghoon's cock hovering dangerously close to your lips, before his large hands moved to your chest. The weight of his touch was deliberate, kneading the softness of your breasts, his thumbs dragging over your nipples until they tightened again under his attention.

The combination was unbearable, your body jerking at every angle, twitching against their hands and mouths as if you no longer had control over it. Sunghoon's sudden pace had your cheeks hollowing, his cock stretching your lips as he thrust with low, restrained groans.

At the same time, Heeseung's fingers twisted your nipples mercilessly, sharp flicks that sent heat rushing to your core, and Jake's tongue was buried inside you, fucking your entrance with wet, eager strokes. Each movement pulled you in a different direction, your body caught in the middle of all three of them until you felt yourself unraveling at the seams.

Your head was spinning, dizzy from the sensation. The world tilted and blurred, your muffled moans spilling out against Sunghoon's cock, your tears streaking down your cheeks. It was overwhelming, but in the best way, better than anything you had ever experienced, better than every fumbling encounter that left you aching and unsatisfied.

This was hunger given form, this was desire being fed by three men who knew exactly how to break you. Every flick of Heeseung's fingers, every thrust of Jake's tongue, every push of Sunghoon's cock made your stomach coil tighter and tighter, until the knot inside you threatened to snap.

And then it did.

You came so hard it tore a strangled cry out of your throat, your body convulsing with the force of it. The orgasm crashed into you violently, your back arching off the bed, your legs trembling as Jake's hands clamped down on your thighs to keep you open.

You almost bit down on Sunghoon from the shock of it, your mouth clenching, your throat spasming, and he pulled back with a sharp hiss, his hand replacing himself on your lips to keep you from choking. But Jake didn't stop; he didn't even pause. His tongue twisted deep inside you, lapping greedily at everything you gave him, his head moving side to side as if he wanted to drink you dry. He held you down through every wave, prolonging the orgasm until you thought your body might tear apart from how hard you were shaking.

"Fuck, ah—fuck, shit," Sunghoon cursed above you, his voice breaking into a groan. His grip tightened on your jaw as his release hit suddenly, hot ropes of cum splattering across your face in quick, forceful bursts. Some streaked down your lips, some across your cheeks, and one stray spurt landed in your eye, stinging faintly but drowned out by the overwhelming tide of pleasure still wrecking your body.

You barely processed it, too lost in the pulsing aftershocks of your orgasm and the relentless flicks of Heeseung's thumbs still torturing your nipples. The sensation was too much, every nerve in your body stretched taut as Jake's mouth sealed back over your clit, his tongue circling lazily as he wanted to drag every last drop of climax from you.

Your sobs broke into gasps, your chest rising sharply, your face sticky with Sunghoon's cum, your throat raw from the moans you couldn't stop. And still, Heeseung's eyes stayed locked on you, darkly watching you writhe.

"I need to fuck her already," Heeseung finally muttered, already standing.

Jake stopped what he was doing and glared at him, his jaw clenched. "Who the fuck said you were gonna be first? I was the one who talked to her. I was the one who had her on her knees until now." His hands went to his shirt, ripping it over his head before shoving his pants down impatiently, his irritation burning through every motion.

Sunghoon sighed, throwing his head back, eyes half-lidded as he grabbed your shaky hand and wrapped it around his cock. "You two are always fighting about this shit," he muttered, ignoring the tension and letting you stroke him, his hips lifting slightly into your fist. His lashes fluttered shut as a low groan escaped him. "Fuck, that's it. Don't stop, baby. Just keep going. That's all I need."

"Fuck off," Heeseung snapped as he took a step closer. "You've both had enough time playing with her. I've been waiting, and I'm not standing here any longer."

Your eyes darted between them, your chest rising in short, desperate pulls of breath, before landing on Sunghoon again. He was still focused only on you, his hand over yours, guiding you up and down his thick cock. "Feels so fucking good," he groaned, his voice breaking, his neck exposed as his head fell back.

"That's why I get to be the first to fuck her," Jake shot back, standing tall now, his cock hard and throbbing against his stomach. His smirk was sharp, challenging. "You were late. I've been making her drip for me."

Sunghoon leaned closer to you, his breath hot against your ear, his lips brushing the corner of your jaw. "Ignore them, baby. Just focus on me." His other hand slid around your waist, tugging you closer until his lips pressed firmly against your neck. He kissed you hard, then nipped at your skin, his teeth dragging up to your jaw before biting again. You gasped at the sting, your hand stroking him faster, your wrist straining with the effort.

"Such a good girl," he moaned, his lips vibrating against your throat. His fingers slipped down your belly until they found your soaked pussy again, circling lazily around your entrance. The teasing pressure made you jolt, your moans tumbling out helplessly as he finally pushed one finger inside. Your walls clenched instantly, wrapping tight around him, and his sharp groan against your ear told you exactly how much he liked it. "So tight," he whispered, almost to himself, before sinking another finger inside.

"Sunghoon—" your voice broke, whimpering, the heat spreading too fast through your core as his hand worked inside you.

"Keep those pretty legs open for me, baby," he murmured, his lips dragging down to your shoulder, his teeth grazing the delicate skin. "Need to stretch this pussy for all of us. You want that, don't you? Want to take us all?"

Your only answer was a frantic nod, your lips trembling as your hand gripped his cock tighter, pumping him faster even as your own body shuddered from his fingers curling deep inside.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself too much, Sunghoon," Jake hissed, stepping forward. His hand shot out, pulling you roughly away from Sunghoon's grip.

You whined at the sudden loss, your body immediately protesting the absence of his fingers inside you.

"Shhh, darling," Jake cooed mockingly, wiping at your cum-stained face with his thumb before pressing his lips against yours in a hungry kiss. His mouth was demanding, tasting, his teeth nipping at your lower lip before pulling back with a smirk. "Me and Heeseung will make you feel so fucking good. You want that, don't you?"

"Yes," you whimpered without hesitation, nodding quickly, your desperation spilling through. You turned on your hands and knees before they could even tell you, body moving on instantly because you knew. You'd heard the whispers. You knew this was how Jake liked to fuck—rough, from behind, with no mercy. "Please."

Jake's laugh was low, almost breathless as he stared at your ass. "Fuck, you don't even need to be told. So hot like this." His palm cracked against your cheek, the sting making you moan as he spread you open with his hands.

Your eyes flicked up, catching Sunghoon again—he was watching with his lip caught between his teeth, his hand wrapped tight around his cock, stroking lazily as his gaze devoured you.

And then your eyes trailed higher, locking with Heeseung, who was standing in front of you, holding the base of his thick cock as if offering it to you. You opened your mouth instantly, ready to take him, but instead he grabbed your chin, tilting your head until you were forced to look up at him.

You sucked in a sharp breath when Jake's tip pressed against your soaked pussy, your entire body stiffening at the stretch before he even entered. His grip on your waist was bruising, anchoring you in place.

"Shit," Jake groaned under his breath, his voice breaking into a growl as he pushed in deeper. "How long has it been since you've been fucked like this? You're tight as fuck."

Your whimpers filled the air, your eyes locked on Heeseung's as he squished your cheeks between his large hand.

"Talk," Heeseung demanded, his eyes burning down into you. "Don't just sit there like a pretty little toy. Tell us what you want. Say it."

The moment he said it, Jake shoved his cock all the way inside you, the sudden fullness making your head drop forward with a cry.

"Moan louder. Scream our names. Tell us what to do to you," Heeseung ordered, pushing you to the edge as Jake's thrusts started to slam into you from behind.

"I—" you stammered through gasps, your body buckling under the rhythm. "I've been dreaming of this since first year." The confession tumbled out without filter, every word dripping with desperation.

Your honesty ripped a sound from both Jake and Sunghoon, low groans that mixed with the slick sound of your body being fucked. Heeseung's gaze hardened, his nostrils flaring as his jaw clenched. Jake's thrusts grew harsher, his hips snapping against you with punishing speed.

"W-want all of you to use me—fuck me, please!" you squealed, your voice cracking as Jake's cock found that spot inside you and hit it mercilessly.

Jake's laugh was cruel, his words spilling out between moans. "Yeah? That's why you gave in so fucking easy? Thought we'd have to drag it out of you, but you just spread those legs like the slut you are." His hand clamped down on your arms, dragging you back onto his cock as he fucked you harder, each thrust shaking your body forward.

Tears pooled again in your eyes as you shook your head weakly, your voice breaking between cries. "N-not a slut! D-don't call me that—ah, f-fuck! Jake!"

But he only thrust faster, slamming into you, groaning at how you clenched so tightly around him the harder he degraded you.

"Yeah?" Jake's voice dropped to a whisper, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot and ragged. "Then why the fuck are you here like this? Why are you dripping on me if you're not exactly what I called you?" His thrusts grew erratic, pounding straight into the softest spot inside you, making your knees tremble, making your nails dig into the sheets until your knuckles turned white.

You couldn't even answer him at first, because the way he was fucking you made your thoughts scatter, your mouth falling open as broken sounds spilled out. But then Heeseung was on you again, his hand fisting in your hair, pulling your head back so you had no choice but to meet his eyes.

"Come on," Heeseung murmured. His thumb brushed over your trembling bottom lip before tightening his grip on your hair, forcing your mouth open slightly. "Ignore him. Tell us what you need. Use that pretty voice."

Your chest heaved, your lashes fluttering, every nerve in your body screaming for more. "Want you—" your voice cracked, "want you all to fill m-my pussy up." The words came out broken, but loud enough for all of them to hear. Your body arched as another wave of Jake's thrusts sent shocks of heat through you, and you sobbed through your moan. "G-give me your biggest load, make me your toy for tonight—ahhh!"

Your scream broke off when Jake's hand slipped down, his fingers pinching your clit hard before slapping it over and over, sharp little bursts of pain crashing into the overwhelming pleasure. The mix had your eyes rolling back into your skull, your mouth falling open as drool slipped from the corner of your lips.

"Yes! Fuck, yes!" you squealed, your voice hoarse, your body jerking helplessly as the coil in your stomach twisted tight, tighter than before. Your thighs shook violently, your legs threatening to give out beneath you if it weren't for Jake's grip anchoring you in place. Every nerve screamed release, but he didn't stop, his cock drilling into you, his fingers punishing your clit until you were certain you'd break.

"Where do you want it?" Jake grunted against your neck, his thrusts almost brutal now, each one stealing the air from your lungs. "Where do you want me to cum, huh? Say it."

Heeseung tugged your hair harder, forcing your eyes to meet his again, his dark gaze pinning you as if daring you to answer wrong. Sunghoon's low groans filled the room behind them, the sound of his fist gliding over his cock only making the moment heavier.

Your lips trembled as you tried to form the words, every part of you shaking, drowning in pleasure, drowning in them.

"Anywhere," you gasped. "In my mouth, in my face, in my body, in my pussy—just fucking cum anywhere in me!"

"Fuck!" Jake groaned. His palm came down on your clit with a sharp slap that had your legs trembling so violently, your pussy clenching down on him with merciless tightness. The shock sent your body into another wave, your scream cutting through the air as you came hard around his cock, your walls fluttering, soaking him with everything you had.

The way you pulsed around him dragged him over the edge, his hips snapping forward with reckless speed until his cock throbbed and spilled, his hot cum spilling deep inside you in thick spurts that made your stomach twist with satisfaction. The moment you felt him paint your walls, you let out a long, broken moan, almost sobbing at how good it felt, how badly you'd needed it.

Heeseung finally let go of your hair, stepping back just far enough to watch you crumble under Jake. His eyes were locked on the mess between your legs, on the sight of Jake's cock still buried in you while his cum leaked out in slow, obscene drips.

His hand slid down his abdomen until he was stroking himself openly, his jaw tight, his breathing heavy. The look in his eyes told you he was seconds away from joining, and that thought made your clit twitch with aftershocks.

Sunghoon's chest rose and fell sharply as he leaned back, still stroking his cock at a steady rhythm, his gaze locked on you. His lips parted, his breathing uneven.

Jake's body eventually stilled, his forehead damp with sweat, his chest heaving with each breath as he looked down at your trembling frame. He pulled back slowly, letting his cock slide free from your swollen pussy. The moment he did, his cum began to spill out in a steady stream, dripping down your thighs and pooling between them.

He had never finished that hard before—he knew it, and from the stunned silence, so did the others. Even Heeseung's brows had furrowed at the sight, as if he couldn't believe how much you were leaking.

Your eyes fluttered half-lidded, your lashes wet with tears and sweat, your breaths shallow and uneven. Your body was heavy, limp from the storm that had wracked you, but somewhere deep inside, you found the strength to move your fingers, twitching weakly against the sheets. You weren't done. You couldn't be. You wanted more—you needed more. Your body begged for it, trembling but eager, your pussy clenching around nothing as if calling for another cock to fill you.

You forced your eyes open again, vision blurred with sweat and tears. And then—

"You're into this shit again?"

That voice. Deep, familiar voice, it cut through everything—the ringing in your ears, the haze in your mind, the pounding of your own heart.

Your pussy clenched instantly, as if your body recognized him before your brain could, a sharp rush of need flooding through you at just the sound.

"Took you long enough, Jay," Sunghoon muttered with a crooked smile, though his hand didn't stop stroking himself.

Jake looked up too, his chest still heaving, his hand dragging across his sweaty forehead, annoyance flickering across his features. Heeseung paused mid-stroke, his gaze narrowing, his jaw flexing as his attention shifted from you to the man at the door.

And you—your throat went dry, your lips parted, your heart slamming painfully against your ribs. Jay was here. Finally!

A soft, broken whine left your lips as your body shifted toward him. Jay's eyes sharpened, his expression was unreadable as he stepped fully inside, closing the door behind him. His gaze swept over the room, over Jake still breathless, Sunghoon stroking himself lazily, Heeseung looming above you, and finally, it landed on you—sweaty, trembling, your face flushed and messy, your eyes wide and glassy as they reached for him.

He didn't move immediately. He just stood there, silent, his jaw tight, demanding the others explain without him saying a word.

But Heeseung didn't give him the chance. He gripped your legs firmly, dragging you down the bed until you were flush beneath him, your body spread and waiting. Jay's eyes narrowed as he caught the sight of your hand twitching toward him, so close yet so far, the longing in your movement almost pathetic in its honesty.

Before you could call out, Heeseung pinned your arms above your head, his fingers curling around your wrists with unrelenting strength. His mouth brushed the shell of your ear, his voice low and taunting. "No more waiting. I've already held back long enough."

And then without warning, he pushed his cock all the way into you in one brutal thrust.

Your scream ripped through the air, your body arching violently as he bottomed out, stretching you so suddenly you could hardly think. The slick of Jake's cum inside you made it easier, made it wetter, but it didn't stop the sharp, overwhelming sting of being filled again so completely, so roughly.

"Fuck—yes," Heeseung groaned, his forehead pressing briefly to your temple as he steadied himself, though his hips didn't slow. "Need to bury my dick inside this pussy before anyone else tries to stop me. If I wait another second, I'll lose my goddamn mind."

He began to pound into you without mercy, each thrust shaking your body, pushing you deeper into the mattress. The sound of it mixed with his growls and your cries until it was all one desperate rhythm. His pace was punishing, desperate, as if he needed to erase the traces Jake left behind, like he needed to make sure you remembered him the most.

Your eyes flickered open through the haze, and there's Jay.

He was still standing where he'd closed the door, but now his chest rose heavily. He was watching you, not Heeseung, not Jake or Sunghoon, but you—his gaze locked on your face, on the way your lips trembled around moans, on the way your eyes begged for him even while another man fucked you senseless.

The sight of him like that—stoic, his stare pinning you harder than Heeseung's grip ever could—made your walls spasm tight around Heeseung's cock. You couldn't move forward, couldn't reach Jay the way you wanted, Heeseung's weight pinning you down just as Jake had before. It was maddening, being fucked this hard while Jay stood so close yet untouchable.

"Look at you," Heeseung groaned, his pace ruthless, his cock battering your soaked cunt. "You're dripping, squeezing me like you never want me to leave. You love it—you fucking love it."

And he wasn't wrong.

Your mind was spiraling, torn between the brutal pleasure flooding your body and the heat of Jay's eyes locked on you.

Heeseung's hand slid up the side of your face, his fingers pressing into your cheek as he tilted your head toward him. The moment your lips brushed against his, you melted, kissing him back feverishly, moaning into his mouth as he swallowed every sound. His thrusts didn't falter, his cock dragging mercilessly against that spot inside you that had you unraveling so quickly, another orgasm barreling through your overstimulated body before you could even brace yourself. Your legs shook violently, your cries muffled by his mouth as you shattered around him again.

Jake, still hard and needy, didn't wait any longer. He stepped closer, ignoring Jay's looming silence, his cock already heavy and dripping. Sunghoon followed, stroking himself lazily, his smirk curling as he looked down at your messy face and trembling body. Heeseung adjusted his body and hold, his hand locking tightly around your waist as he slowed just enough to grind into you deliberately, rolling his hips in a way that pressed cruelly against your swollen clit and that spongy spot inside, teasing you, forcing more whimpers from your lips even as your body tried to recover.

When Jake and Sunghoon moved to either side of your head, you reacted instantly. Both your hands reached out to wrap around them, your fingers straining around their girth. A muffled moan escaped you, your eyes fluttering, as Sunghoon leaned lower, his hand sliding to your breast, kneading it roughly.

The sensation made you gasp, your lips parting, and Jake took the opportunity to rub his cock against your tongue. You sighed in bliss, your throat vibrating as you licked the tip, your saliva mixing with the sticky fluid still clinging to him from earlier. You sucked eagerly, slurping him down before switching, letting Sunghoon feel your tongue glide along the underside of his length, licking from his base to his leaking tip. All the while, Heeseung's thrusts grew sharper, pounding harder, each one jarring your body as he lost the battle with his own restraint.

"Fuck, you really wanted this, huh?" Sunghoon groaned, watching your lips wrap around him before sliding free. His hand tangled in your hair, guiding you lower, feeding himself into your mouth as his hips rolled slowly, deliberately. "Moaning with three cocks on you, and enjoying every second of it."

Your eyes watered as you let him push deeper, your throat tightening, but the messy desperation in your moans proved his words right. You pulled off with a wet gasp, kissing the head of his cock, smearing saliva across it before whispering against him.

"Love your cock... so much," you breathed, your lips brushing the tip, your eyes flicking immediately past him—toward Jay. That gnawing ache inside you swelled, and before you could stop yourself, your whine tumbled out. "Is Jay not gonna join?"

The room stilled at your words.

Jake chuckled dryly, tugging your wrist tighter around his shaft before thrusting into your hand with rough, impatient strokes. "You've got three cocks already and still not enough for you?" His voice dropped lower, his pace quickening as he fucked into your fist. "Can't even handle us together, but you're begging for more. God, you're insatiable."

Heeseung growled low in his throat, his thrusts growing faster, harsher, punishing you for even speaking Jay's name. Sunghoon hissed through his teeth as your grip on him tightened, his thumb brushing your spit-slicked lips.

"S-sorry!" you squeaked, your back arching violently as the three of them claimed every inch of your body with greedy, unrelenting hands. The sensations collided into each other, overwhelming, making it impossible to tell where one touch ended and another began.

Your skin burned under their palms, every squeeze, every slap, every tug forcing your body to twitch and your chest to heave with broken sobs of pleasure.

"Focus on us, you fucking bitch," Heeseung growled, dangerous enough to make your cunt clench so tight around him that his hips stuttered. He cursed, gripping your waist harder, his cock slamming into you with renewed force, each thrust demanding your full attention, demanding that you forget everything but him, but them.

Your eyes rolled back, your lips trembling, but you couldn't stop glancing toward Jay, couldn't stop feeling that magnetic pull toward his stare.

Jake grunted, his hand tangling roughly in your hair, yanking your head toward him as his cock brushed against your lips again. "Ignore him. You hear me? He's not the one inside you right now—we are. So open your fucking mouth and focus," his cockhead smearing across your tongue before pushing in, forcing your throat to stretch around him again. The taste of him mixed with the mess already dripping down your chin, and you moaned around his length, gagging slightly when he pushed deeper, his hips jerking at the sound.

Sunghoon, never content to let the others take more than him, pressed closer, his fingers pinching your nipple until you whined. "That's right. You're ours tonight, baby. All ours."

His hand slid lower, spreading you wider for Heeseung's relentless thrusts, his fingers brushing your clit in circles that made you sob.

Your words came out slurred. "Y-yours! All yours! F-fuck—I can't—ahh, I can't take it—"

Heeseung cut you off with a growl, thrusting deeper, harder, the bed frame slamming into the wall with each movement. "Yes, you can, slut. You'll take everything I give you." Your walls clenched even tighter around him, milking his cock.

"I'm not a fucking slut!" The protest tore from your throat just as another orgasm ripped through you, your body spasming violently.

Your legs tried to slam shut against the unbearable pleasure, but Jake and Sunghoon caught them instantly, spreading you wider, keeping you open, holding you there as Heeseung continued pounding into you mercilessly. Your moan stretched high, long, broken in its desperation as tears streamed down your face.

Heeseung pulled out abruptly, your cunt fluttering around nothing, before plunging three of his fingers inside you. The sudden stretch made your entire body jolt upward, your scream breaking into sobs as he fucked his fingers into you with a brutal pace. His palm pressed hard against your clit with every thrust, his thumb flicking over the swollen bud, making your vision blur and your mind scatter.

Your body shook violently, your head thrashing from side to side, your voice rising in hysterical sobs that filled the room. "Stop! S-stop! I'm gonna—I'm go-going to pee! Stop, wait! Please, wait—!"

Your arms tried to push them off, tried to squirm free, but Jake and Sunghoon pinned you tighter, one hand on each wrist, one grip on each thigh, keeping you spread open for Heeseung's relentless assault.

Heeseung's eyes darkened, his jaw clenched as he kept driving into your pussy with his fingers, your slick coating his hand, dripping down his wrist, the sound of it loud and wet. His cock twitched angrily in his other hand as he stroked himself in slow pulls, groaning low in his chest. "Come on, sweetheart. Don't fight it. Let it out for us. Show us how much you need us."

Jake leaned closer, his lip caught between his teeth, his eyes fixed on the mess between your thighs. The obscene squelching filled his ears, making his cock ache again. "Fuck—listen to her pussy. She's about to—" His words cut off with a groan as his own hips rutted helplessly into the air.

Your high-pitched scream tore through the room as the dam inside you finally snapped. 

A gush of hot liquid burst from your pussy, splattering over your stomach, your thighs, the sheets beneath you, drenching Heeseung's hand and face as he ducked lower, moaning against the spray. The force of it made your ears ring, your vision blur, your body convulse helplessly.

It was humiliating, overwhelming, devastatingly good. You sobbed openly, your face slick with tears and spit, Sunghoon's cum already drying against your skin, and now your own release coating everything around you. Your body trembled uncontrollably, your legs twitching and kicking weakly until Jake and Sunghoon finally let them fall open to the side.

You curled inward, your arms wrapping protectively over your chest, your body folding small as though you could hide. But the sheets were soaked beneath you, the air heavy with the scent of sex, the room echoing with your broken cries.

"So good," Heeseung's lips parted against your soaked skin and licked at the mess you left on his face. His eyes fluttered shut, his strokes on his cock tightening, his hand gliding through the mixture of your slick and squirt.

"Get the fuck to the side. I'm going to taste it." Jake's hand already twitched toward you, greedy and impatient.

Sunghoon's laugh came rough and breathless, his chest rising and falling as he lazily stroked himself, his eyes locked on the wet ruin between your thighs. "Bro, shut the fuck up. You already had your turn. It's my turn now."

Sunghoon leaned forward, dragging his tongue over your cheek, licking at the tears that stained your skin before pressing a sloppy kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"Step aside. I'm not done yet." Heeseung shoved Sunghoon out of his way, his hand already on your thigh, forcing your legs apart with a strength that made your body jolt.

"W-wait—" your voice broke, a weak sniffle escaping as you tried to catch your breath, your chest heaving rapidly, overstimulation already threatening to unravel you further.

The stretch of your thighs, the way Heeseung's fingers pressed into your skin, it all made you flinch with both anticipation and fear. You weren't sure if you could take more, but your body betrayed you, your cunt twitching at the thought of him filling you again.

"Dude, no fun," Sunghoon muttered, irritation coloring his tone as he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, still tasting you there. His cock twitched in his fist, but he leaned back with a scowl.

"Three of you step back. You can't even take care of her." Jay's voice cut through the air, commanding, silencing all of them in an instant.

Your head turned instinctively toward him. The sound of his voice sent a violent shiver down your spine, your pussy clenching around nothing as though it had been waiting only for him. Your chest hitched, your lips parting on a desperate little whimper that you couldn't hold back. "J-Jay..."

Jake scoffed from the other side of the bed, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, but the flash of annoyance in his expression didn't hide the way his chest rose faster, as if even he knew Jay's presence shifted everything. "She's fine. Don't act like you're the savior now."

Jay's gaze flicked toward him, before returning to you. He moved closer until he stood at the edge of the bed, looking down at your trembling body. "She's more than fine. She's a mess. Look at her." His jaw tightened as his eyes roamed over you—your soaked thighs, your trembling legs, your chest that still rose and fell unevenly. His voice softened. "She's mine to take care of."

Heeseung growled low in his throat, clearly unwilling to back off, his body still hovering over you. "We've already broken her in. Don't come here acting like you own her now." His fingers dug into your thigh harder, spreading you wider as if to make his point.

Jay's expression didn't shift, though his eyes burned darker. "Then move. Or I'll make you."

You breathe heavily, looking at the both of them. And you—your body trembled violently, torn apart by the clash of their voices, but deep down you knew what you wanted. Your lips quivered, the words slipping out before you could stop yourself. "I... I want Jay..."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Heeseung froze above you, his eyes narrowing dangerously, while Jake let out a low laugh, though the jealousy in it was sharp. Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, biting his lip as though amused but also curious to see what Jay would do.

Jay leaned closer, his hand reaching out to brush your messy hair away from your face, his touch surprisingly gentle after all the roughness you'd endured. His thumb stroked over your damp cheek, wiping at the dried tears. His gaze softened as he looked at you.

"Here I thought I was your favorite," Heeseung muttered, finally releasing the tight grip he had on your leg. Beneath the teasing, a mix of bitterness and disappointment that made your chest ache even in your haze.

Jake snorted, throwing a smirk in Heeseung's direction. "Don't flatter yourself. She probably still thinks you're her number one. She just wants another cock inside her because that's what sluts do." His words were cruel, but his retreat was obvious, stepping back from you, his chest still heaving.

Heeseung only shrugged at that, but his eyes flicked to you once more before he turned his head away.

Your lips trembled, guilt and shame mixing with the raw need still burning inside you. You tilted your head toward Jay, your voice coming out as the weakest of whispers. "D-do you want me to clean up first?" The moment the words left your mouth, your chest tightened—afraid he might flinch, afraid he might see you the same way Jake just called you.

But Jay only smiled softly, shaking his head as though the thought was absurd. "It's alright, angel."

The simple reassurance broke something in you. Your eyes stung all over again, but before the tears could spill, his mouth was already moving lower, pressing a trail of unhurried kisses along your inner thigh. Each press of his lips lingered. By the time his lips hovered just above your swollen core, his pointed nose brushing lightly over your sensitive clit, your back had already arched off the sheets in anticipation.

You gasped softly, when his tongue finally slid against you. Hot, steady, and so focused, his tongue swirled around your folds before slipping inside you, teasing your oversensitive walls with a precision that made your breath catch in your throat. The contrast to the brutal pace you'd been enduring was staggering—he wasn't just eating you out, he was savoring you.

Your hands flew instinctively to his hair, trembling fingers tangling into his dark strands as you moaned helplessly, your chest rising and falling with every wave of sensation he drew from you. "J-Jay..." His name slipped from your lips brokenly.

He hummed against your cunt at the sound, the vibration making you twitch as his tongue moved deeper, stroking places inside you that made your toes curl. His grip on your hips tightened, holding you still when your thighs tried to clamp shut around his head from the overwhelming pleasure.

Behind him, you could feel the others watching—Heeseung's silence heavy, Jake's low scoff, Sunghoon's quiet hum of approval—but all of it blurred into the background when Jay moaned against you, drinking you down.

You whimpered, tugging at his hair as your hips bucked weakly into his mouth. "S-so good... I can't, I c-can't hold it—"

Jay pulled back just enough to glance up at you, his lips glistening with your slick, his eyes dark but soft. "Then don't. Let go for me, angel. Just me."

And with that, he dipped his head again, his tongue flicking against your clit with quick, precise strokes while his fingers slid inside you, curling expertly until you were screaming, until your body was trembling so hard you thought it might break apart.

Jay let go of your trembling body, his lips brushing once more against your temple before he finally shifted back. The bed dipped under his weight as he knelt at the edge, the leather of his belt creaking faintly as his fingers tugged at the buckle.

You knew the night had only just begun, but here in this room it already felt like you had been devoured whole, like there was no way out.

"Have you ever been fucked in the ass?" Jay's voice broke through, deceptively calm, his palm gliding down the curve of your thigh, rubbing in a slow rhythm as if coaxing you into trust.

Your lashes fluttered, your chest seizing as though his words had cut the air straight out of your lungs. "H-Huh?" Your voice cracked, eyes wide, searching his expression for some sign of softness that might match the way he'd just held you.

From your left, Jake let out a muffled laugh, the sound harsh against the fragile silence that followed your confusion.

Jay's hand didn't falter. He pressed a little higher on your thigh, the pads of his fingers stroking, teasing, until finally one circled lower, grazing a place that had never been touched this way before.

His tone was as gentle as before, almost sickeningly so. "I asked," he repeated slowly, "have you ever been fucked in your ass, angel?"

The tip of his finger brushed against your rim and you gasped, the breath caught sharp in your throat as heat and panic flared all at once. Your body jolted, betraying you. You couldn't even find the words, your head turning automatically toward the other three. Heeseung, Jake, and Sunghoon—all three watching you intently, not a single one offering you an escape.

You shook your head quickly, shame coloring your cheeks as your voice finally stumbled out. "N-No..."

Jay's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "On your arms and knees, then. I'll be gentle with you."

The smile was soft, but you could already feel the deception in it. You should've known by now—Jay only looked gentle when he wanted you to obey.

Your tears hadn't even dried when you felt his finger pressing more firmly at your rim, the tight, foreign intrusion making your body stiffen. The burn was immediate, sharp, a sensation your body didn't know how to handle. He twisted his finger slowly, deliberately, and the stretch made you whimper, your hands clawing desperately at the sheets.

"C-can't take it," you cried, shaking your head, your vision blurring again. Your body writhed under him, desperate for someone—anyone—to stop him.

"Hurts, Sunghoon. It hurts!" Your arm reached blindly for him, searching for comfort.

And Sunghoon leaned in instantly, catching your reaching hand, his lips brushing your temple in mock sympathy. "Shh," he cooed, the sound almost tender if not for the wicked edge beneath it. "I thought you were a good girl? You've been dreaming about us for so long, haven't you? This is what you wanted."

Your sobs shook your chest, but your body betrayed you again—clenching around Jay's finger, trembling from every deliberate twist.

On your other side, Heeseung moved closer, crouching low until his chest brushed against your arm. He caught your free hand and guided it toward him, pressing your palm around his cock.  "Come on, baby. Use those hands. Don't just cry. Make yourself useful while Jay breaks you in."

Jay's finger pushed deeper, the slow stretch pulling another ragged sob from your throat. He watched you closely, his jaw tight, his cock already heavy in his hand as he stroked it lazily. His lips curved again, "relax, angel. Breathe. I'll make it hurt less if you beg me properly."

When Jay finally pulled his finger free, your body sagged in relief—but it was short-lived. The sharp tear of foil reached your ears, and your stomach flipped as the sound registered. You forced your head to lift, desperate to see him, but Sunghoon's hand kept you locked in place, his grip so firm on your hair that you couldn't move. He angled you down toward Heeseung's cock again, your mouth spreading open around him until you gagged.

You heard the faint snap of latex as Jay rolled the condom down his thick length, the squirt of lube slicking the air before his fist wrapped around himself, stroking with slow pumps. You tried to tilt your head to catch a glimpse, but Sunghoon tugged hard, forcing you to choke around Heeseung's cock. Your throat tightened painfully as you coughed against the intrusion.

"Hmp—!" Your cry was muffled, spilling against Heeseung's cock as Jay pressed forward. The blunt head of his cock nudged against your rim, stretching you in ways you weren't prepared for.

Jay's groan vibrated through the room, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he pushed deeper, inch by inch. His hands gripped your ass, spreading you wider, making you tremble as the burn ignited again.

Your throat was stuffed with Heeseung's cock, and every shallow thrust into your mouth came with another humiliating gulp, gulp, gulp. Each noise mingled with Jay's ragged breathing as he sank himself slowly into your ass.

By the time his cock buried itself halfway, your hands had flown to Heeseung's thighs in desperation, nails scratching down his skin as your throat tried to adjust. Heeseung hissed sharply at the sting, then abruptly pulled out, your mouth gasping for air as you coughed and sobbed.

"Bitch," he spat, slapping your cheek with enough force to sting. Your head tilted from the impact, tears spilling harder as you whimpered against the mattress, your body trembling uncontrollably.

The sound of the slap cracked through the room—and the shift in the air was instant. Jay froze, his dark eyes snapping up, his jaw tight. Slowly, he leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back, his cock still halfway inside your ass as he fixed his glare on Heeseung.

"The fuck do you think you're doing?"

"She fucking scratched me—" Heeseung started.

Jay's glare sharpened, cutting him off. His hand curled around your hip, steadying you as he leaned closer until his lips brushed your ear, his words meant for both you and Heeseung. "Apologize. To her. Now."

Heeseung's jaw flexed, annoyance flashing in his eyes, but under Jay's burning stare, he finally muttered, "...Sorry."

You sniffled, your face pressed to the sheets, too shaken to respond. Jay's grip on your hip softened just enough for his thumb to caress you. "You okay, hmm?"

You swallowed hard, unable to find your voice, and forced yourself to nod against the sheets. Your chest rose and fell in shuddering waves, but you needed him to believe you could take it.

Jay hummed softly, almost like praise. "That's it. Breathe for me, angel. Let me in. Don't hold back." His hips pressed forward again. The intrusion stretched you open slowly, your body fighting to keep up with his size. The burn sharpened into an unbearable sting, and you screamed into the mattress, toes curling tight against the sheets as you struggled not to collapse.

Sunghoon's hand smoothed over your hair, patting your head with a tenderness, so comforting that make you whimper. "Good girl," he whispered, as though you needed his approval just to keep breathing.

Then Heeseung moved closer, his hand sliding between your thighs to press against your soaked pussy.

"Sorry, baby." His palm cupped you carefully, you flinched at first, but when he leaned in, his lips closing over your nipple, sucking hard, the sharp edge of pain dulled under a rush of pleasure. The shift made your back arch violently, the cry that tore from you high and desperate.

"Ahh! F-fuck!" you screamed, voice cracking, torn between pain and bliss.

Jay grunted at the way your body squeezed around him, his hand wrapping tightly around your arm to pull it back behind you like a lever. His other hand gripped your shoulder firmly, anchoring you while his hips snapped forward with force. Each thrust sent a wet smack echoing through the room, skin colliding with a punishing rhythm.

Heeseung groaned against your chest, his tongue flicking over your nipple as his fingers pressed harder into your clit, rubbing circles that sent shocks of sensation racing through your trembling body. The mixture of Jay's brutal thrusts and Heeseung's eager mouth had you thrashing.

You never thought being filled that way could drag such a storm out of you. The sting that had first made you sob now twisted into something overwhelming, a blend of fire and honey that made your body betray you with every clench. Each thrust blurred the line between pain and euphoria until you couldn't separate one from the other, only the dizzy rush that kept forcing cries from your throat.

At some point, you lost track of who was where.

You were a doll passed between them, shifted and handled, your body too pliant to resist, too consumed by sensation to understand the movement until it was already happening.

When Jay lifted you with an arm hooked under your ribs, carrying your trembling weight as though you were light as air, your limbs hung loose, hair falling forward like a curtain, your head lolling against his chest. The world was hazy, sound muffled except for their voices and the unrelenting rhythm of flesh against flesh.

You moaned uncontrollably, the sound spilling out of you even before Sunghoon pushed inside your swollen pussy. He didn't wait, he didn't tease—he slid in deep, and the stretch dragged another cry out of your throat.

Jake positioned himself over you, his hands squeezing your tits roughly, pressing them together around the length of his cock. He thrusted between them with a feral need, groaning at the slick heat as he forced you to keep your trembling arms raised so you couldn't rest, so none of them were ignored.

Your muscles screamed, the burn in your shoulders mixing with the fire between your legs. Yet the harder it became to hold on, the more your moans broke apart into helpless sobs.

"Shit! So fucking good!" Sunghoon moaned, usually he was silent, the one who held back while the others filled the air, but now his restraint had shattered. His moans came rough and guttural, pulled from his chest with every thrust, his expression twisting into something close to pure bliss. Each time his hips met yours, the sound that tore from his throat was louder, rawer, until you realized he was trembling too—losing himself in you just as much as you were unraveling under him.

Your vision blurred at the edges, tears clinging to your lashes, the ringing in your ears drowning out everything but their voices and the wet sounds of bodies colliding. Orgasms tore through you one after another, piling so fast you couldn't separate them anymore. You were trapped in the spiral of it, begging without thought, "Y-yes, fuck, yes—I can't stop—I need it—please, don't stop!"

Your body betrayed you completely, arching up even as you wanted to collapse. The adhesive gems clinging to your eyelids sparkled faintly under the light, miraculously still in place as your eyes rolled back, your tongue slipping free from your mouth with no strength left to hold it in. You were a mess, unrecognizable even to yourself, but they devoured every second of it.

Jake groaned low in his chest as his cock pulsed, spilling over your tits, hot ropes covering your skin until you were painted in him. He slapped your chest once more, watching it smear across your breasts before stumbling back, his body giving out as he dropped onto the mattress, panting heavily, drained but satisfied.

The moment you were freed from him, your lips were claimed again. Heeseung and Jay's mouths fought for space against yours, kissing you with different kinds of urgency—Jay deep and consuming, Heeseung sharp and demanding. Their lips pulled moans out of you you didn't even know you had left, your eyes shut tight as your mouth parted helplessly between them.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon's cock dragged deeper inside you, angling until it brushed that spot that made your whole body spasm. The rhythm of his thrusts grew steadier, more desperate, his hips slamming into you with a pace that made your chest heave and your breath hitch against the mouths kissing yours. He was unrelenting, he couldn't stop himself, your body had unlocked something in him he never wanted to let go of.

Sunghoon's control shattered first. His jaw clenched, veins standing out along his neck as he pushed deeper, his movements rough and unsteady, every thrust dragging a desperate sound from him. His eyes squeezed shut and his head tilted back, a moan ripping from his throat as his stomach tightened, the pleasure consuming him faster than he could handle. He bit down on his lip, but it wasn't enough to stifle the way his body shook while his cock throbbed violently inside you.

You felt the hot flood of his release filling you in long, uncontrollable spurts. It spread thick through your core, making your walls clench tighter as though your body wanted to keep him there, to hold every drop.

The sensation was so overwhelming that your back arched high into Jay's chest. He caught you easily, his large hand spreading over your breast and kneading. His lips swallowed your broken moans, his tongue sliding deep until you whimpered against him, unable to keep up.

Your hips jerked when Sunghoon finally spilled the last of his release, the force of it pushing some of his cum to seep out around his cock. He slumped forward, chest heaving, but his grip on your waist betrayed his reluctance to leave you. He wanted to stay buried, to keep claiming you—but his body gave out, and with a low groan he pulled free, his length glistening as it slid from your swollen cunt.

The loss of him left you trembling, and before you could even breathe, Heeseung was already there. His hand slid between your thighs, fingers parting your slick folds without hesitation. He rubbed over your swollen clit in tight circles, faster, sharper, and your lips tore away from Jay's kiss to scream, your cry echoing through the room as a new wave of sensation tore through you.

Sunghoon's cum was still dripping from your pussy when Heeseung's fingers slapped against your sensitive clit. The sharp sting made your hips spasm, jerking upward uncontrollably, the sound of the wet slap filling the room. Your thighs shook, but Jay's hand on your chest kept you pressed firmly against him, forcing you to take it all.

"So fucking hot," Jay groaned against your skin, his teeth grazing your neck before biting down just enough to leave a mark. He soothed the bite with his tongue before sucking at the spot, leaving his claim branded into your skin while you cried softly beneath him.

"Come on," Heeseung coaxed. He gave your clit another sharp slap that made you gasp, your entire body twitching. "Breathe. Deep. You've still got two cocks waiting for you."

Your body was trembling, the exhaustion in your muscles fighting against the need clawing through your veins. Every part of you screamed for a pause, a moment of stillness, but your lips betrayed you, spilling soft, broken words into the heated air.

"...cock... want more..." you whispered, not even sure if you meant to say it out loud, but the second it left your mouth, they moved.

They shifted you onto Heeseung first, his broad chest rising under your palms as he positioned himself at your entrance. Your thighs burned as you straddled him, but you couldn't stop yourself from lowering down, grinding until his thick tip slid past your folds, the friction making your entire body quiver.

Heeseung's eyes darkened immediately, his hands gripping your waist as he guided you, feeling the way your heat stretched around him.

Jay stood behind you, his movements methodical as he tore open another condom with his teeth. He rolled the latex down over his length with one hand, the other already spreading over your lower back, holding you steady. His touch was careful, deceptively gentle, even as you felt the blunt press of his cock teasing your other entrance.

The stretch made you scream, your head snapping back to his shoulder as his cock slowly pushed inside your ass. Your tits arched forward, bouncing in Heeseung's face, and he groaned like he was seeing heaven itself, his mouth immediately latching onto one nipple. His tongue flicked hard before he began sucking greedily, moaning against your skin, drowning himself in the taste of you might keep him from unraveling completely.

He told himself not to get attached, not to think beyond the raw act of it but as he looked up, catching the sight of your face twisted with both pain and euphoria, your lashes damp with tears, your lips parted, your flushed cheeks glowing, he was gone. So fucking pretty, too pretty for this. His chest tightened, his teeth sinking into his lip, half-lidded eyes watching you lose yourself while he thrust up into you.

"Ahh—fuck! S-so good! Feels so good!" you sobbed, your voice breaking as both of them found their rhythm inside you.

Jay's arm slid tighter around your middle, pulling you back against him, while his other hand anchored hard on your shoulder.

Each drive of his hips made your body lurch forward, and every time he withdrew, Heeseung thrust upward to meet you, their cocks colliding through the thin barrier inside you. The pressure was relentless, unbearable yet addicting. You felt so full, so completely wrecked, yet you didn't want them to stop.

Your head fell back against Jay's shoulder, your throat exposed, your lips trembling as the sounds poured out of you unrestrained. His gaze locked onto you, never wavering, watching every twitch of your brows, every flutter of your lashes, every blissful break in your voice.

His stomach coiled tight when he saw you smile through your moans, blissful grin that said you were floating in a haze beyond reason.

And then—when you let out a delirious laugh, drunk on cock and pleasure—both he and Heeseung nearly lost control.

"Shit... fuck, look at her," Heeseung moaned against your chest, thrusts erratic as your pussy clenched harder, milking him. His thumb found your clit again, circling with ruthless precision, making your hips twitch violently in their hold.

"Fucking cockdrunk," Jake muttered from the side, his voice strained, his hand already wrapped tight around his cock as he stroked himself, eyes devouring the sight of you stuffed full between Jay and Heeseung.

"Unbelievable..." Sunghoon hissed, though his body betrayed his words as his cock hardened again at the sight. His chest rose sharply, his jaw tightening as his eyes burned into you, unable to look away.

And you—you were flying. Your entire body trembled, sweat dripping down your back, every nerve set alight as two cocks pounded into you in perfect rhythm, stretching you in ways you never thought you could handle. You weren't just moaning anymore—you were laughing, delirious, euphoric, because nothing had ever felt this good. The world outside didn't exist. There was only this. Only them. Only the way your body sang under their hands, under their cocks.

You were living your best fucking life, and in that moment, you knew you never wanted it to end.

"Shit—I'm gonna cum," Heeseung groaned, his head falling back against the pillow as his thrusts grew uneven. You couldn't help yourself, couldn't stop your body from pushing back onto his cock, greedy for every last inch.

"Need it—please, I need you to cum inside me—don't hold back," you moaned.

Jay tightened his bicep around your throat, dragging you flush against him as his lips pressed against your temple. "Take it, angel. Take all of him."

The heat in your chest exploded when Heeseung moaned loud and emptied inside you. The sound of his voice made your heart lurch even as your own orgasm tore through you again. Your walls clenched so violently that his cock twitched helplessly, spilling thicker and thicker ropes of cum until you could feel the weight of it stretching your stomach. The mess spilled from the corners of your folds, warm streams dripping down your thighs.

But before the haze could settle, Jay's voice cut through. "Pull out, Heeseung. It's my turn—I want to cum in her too." His arm around your throat tightened, pulling you higher onto him, your back arching as his cock slid free from your ass, still painfully hard.

Heeseung hesitated, his chest heaving, his eyes narrowing like he didn't want to let go of the heat he'd buried himself in. He gave a sharp exhale of frustration but finally withdrew, his cock wet and shining as he let you slip from him.

Jay didn't waste a second. He yanked off the condom, tossing it carelessly aside, then pushed his length inside your pussy still dripping with Heeseung's load. The stretch burned, but the mix of fluids made him slide in effortlessly, and the sensation had your toes curling instantly.

"Fuck—fuck, she's so wet," Jay groaned, his forehead pressing against the side of your head. His pace was punishing, his hips snapping against your ass as his hand gripped your hip to anchor himself.

"Can't hold it—gonna fill you—"

The moment he buried himself deep, his body stiffened, and he spilled hot inside you. His growl vibrated against your ear, the sound of his release mixing with your own helpless moans. You could feel it, the pulse of his cock as he filled you so completely that the mix of him and Heeseung spilled back out, dripping into a sticky mess beneath you.

It took a long moment before they both released you, your body sagging limp between them. You barely had the strength to move when Jake stepped forward, his hand already pumping his length with urgency, his eyes locked on your face. Sunghoon moved with him, their cocks standing tall, both of them crowding your view as you were laid down on your back.

"Open up, baby," Jake ordered.

Your lips parted, tongue falling out on instinct, the salty taste of precum already smearing across it as they fisted themselves harder. Their groans overlapped as thick spurts painted your cheeks, your forehead, your lips, dripping down your neck and into your hair. You swallowed what you could, eyes rolling back at the sheer dirtiness of it, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each ragged breath.

You stared blankly at the ceiling, vision hazy, ears ringing so loud it felt like you were underwater. Your head was spinning, the room tilting, but your body was already being turned again.

Your limbs flopped uselessly as Jake forced his cock back to hardness, guiding himself to your ass, while Heeseung gripped your legs wide, holding you open as though your exhaustion didn't matter.

One by one, they took their turns again, each of them sliding into your abused body, spilling more inside until it felt like there wasn't any part of you left untouched. Your mind was gone, floating somewhere else, your mouth hanging open without sound, and still, they didn't stop.

The last thing you remembered was Sunghoon's icy hands spreading your folds, his voice low with awe as he stared at the mess dripping from your swollen used pussy—thick white streams still spurting.

And then you passed out, swallowed by the overwhelming haze of pleasure and exhaustion, your body twitching even in unconsciousness, your mind lost in the aftershocks of everything they had done.

You woke with a body that felt heavier than stone, every inch aching. The room was quiet except for the soft snores surrounding you.

You shivered, realizing the air was cold against your damp hair and clammy skin, only to notice the weight of arms draped over you—two different hands anchoring you in place. One was around your waist, pulling you back into a solid chest, the other rested lazily on your hip.

You blinked hard, trying to gather yourself, and only then did you notice you were clothed, though barely. Someone had slipped a shirt over you, but it was hiked up high, baring most of your thighs. Heart pounding, you tilted your head, your breath catching when you saw Jay's face so close to yours. His features were peaceful, his brows relaxed, lips parted just slightly as a soft groan escaped him. Even in sleep, he pulled you tighter into his chest.

"What the fuck..." you whispered under your breath, pulse racing as heat rushed to your cheeks.

Your gaze dropped lower and froze. Sunghoon's head rested against your chest, lips slack and still attached to your nipple. His hand was curled around your waist too, fingers twitching. The memory of his face twisted in pleasure, his voice breaking with moans, hit you so hard that your thighs clenched instinctively.

You stifled a sound, your whole face burning.

Carefully, with your fingers trembling, you began to pry their hands off one by one, moving Jay's arm and slipping Sunghoon's hand back over his own body. It felt like sneaking out of something you weren't supposed to survive. But before you could breathe in relief, your eyes darted downward—and you almost screamed.

At the foot of the bed, sprawled across like he owned the space, was Jake. His cheek was pressed into the mattress, lips parted as he breathed heavily, his bare chest rising and falling. He looked so soft like this, so far from the rough, taunting voice that had wrecked you just hours ago.

Your stomach flipped.

"What the hell..." you whispered again, a little louder this time, biting your lip as panic swirled in your chest. You couldn't stay here. Not with the memories flashing in your head.

Ignoring the deep ache in your thighs and the heaviness weighing down your limbs, you tiptoed around them, snatching your heels and dress from the table. The sound of the zipper sliding into place echoed too loudly in your ears as you tried to dress as quietly as possible.

When you finally slipped out and pulled the door shut behind you, you pressed your back against it, exhaling sharply. Relief barely lasted a second before you froze again.

Someone was sitting in the living room.

Heeseung was perched on the couch, phone in hand, his tall frame hunched slightly forward. The glow of the screen lit his sharp features, but the second the door clicked shut, his head snapped up. His eyes widened as if he hadn't expected you to actually walk out. In a blur, he was standing, pocketing his phone.

"Hey," his voice came out softer than you remembered.

Your whole body stiffened, eyes wide, your pulse hammering in your throat. The room was quiet but the weight of his presence filled it, and you could feel your heart fluttering in panic—or maybe dangerously close to longing.

"It's just five-thirty," he said, glancing briefly at the window where the faintest gray of dawn was creeping in. "We finished at four. Are you... already leaving?"

Your throat was dry. Fuck. He was talking to you. Just standing there, bare-faced and raw from the night before, his voice carrying none of the arrogance it once did. You wanted to respond, but your mouth betrayed you, stuck in silence. You could only stare at him, your gaze trembling before you forced it away, too shy, too ashamed, too overwhelmed.

Heeseung shifted his weight, his Adam's apple bobbing as though he was working up the nerve. Then, in a tone that was almost uncertain, he asked, "Were we too rough?"

You blinked up at him, startled.

"I..." you started, but the words stuck.

His jaw tightened, eyes flickering before he let out a low sigh. He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous gesture that didn't fit the man who had held you down hours earlier. His voice dropped lower, rough with regret. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to slap you like that. I just... I got carried away."

The sincerity in his tone, the way his eyes searched yours like he needed you to believe him, made your chest ache. You didn't trust yourself to speak, your throat felt raw, so you simply nodded, awkward and small, hoping it was enough.

"I—I... uh... shit." Heeseung's voice faltered.

He was fumbling, caught off guard by the weight of his own thoughts. For the first time, he seemed unsure.

Heeseung had always respected the girls they brought into this kind of mess, but responsibility was something he usually left to Jay, who carried gentleness. Yet with you, the urge was different. It was tugging at him in a way he couldn't ignore, and it unsettled him more than he'd ever admit.

His tongue darted over his lips, his brows knitting together as he shifted closer, still cautious of your fragile state. "Do you... want to leave? I—uh—I can get my car, or call someone, or—wait." He cut himself off, unsure what offer would make sense, what you even needed from him right now.

You shook your head quickly, your hands clinging to your heels. Your voice came out almost too small to hear, but you forced the words past your lips. "T-thank you. I-I can manage myself. Th-thank you... so much."

It was rushed, shaky, like you needed to get it out before your voice betrayed the truth of how fragile you felt. Without waiting for his response, you turned away, your bare feet carrying you in tiny, stumbling steps toward the door. Each step hurt, your body reminding you of everything from last night, but you pressed forward anyway, desperate to escape the heaviness in the room.

"Wait—what's your—" Heeseung started, his hand twitching forward as if he could reach you. But the words fell flat, caught in his throat, and he stopped himself before finishing. His lips pressed together in frustration, a quiet curse slipping under his breath. His eyes followed the curve of your back, the fragile sway of your shoulders, the sound of your unsteady footsteps echoing.

"...number."

The word left him softer than a whisper, too late, almost swallowed by the empty space you left behind.

He stood there for a long moment, staring at the door you'd just disappeared through, torn between running after you and letting you go. His jaw clenched, his hand raking through his hair as he sank back down onto the couch.

He couldn't shake the image of you—the way your eyes had rolled back in bliss, the way you had laughed in the middle of it all, the way you looked at him now as if you wanted to disappear.

And Heeseung felt a kind of defeat that left his chest heavy. First, he was pissed that Jay, of all people, had managed to pull your attention more than once that night. Second, he hadn't even gotten the chance to really enjoy you the way he wanted, not fully, not the way that would have been enough. And third—worst of all—he didn't even know your full name, or what department you were in, or anything beyond that single night where you'd let yourself unravel in his arms and under his hands.

"Fuck..." he muttered under his breath, dragging a hand over his face, frustrated at the gnawing ache in his chest. You were too pretty, too delicate, too intoxicating, and it infuriated him that Sunghoon and Jake had gotten their way with you first, splitting you open before he ever had the chance to claim you for himself. The thought of them having your "first" and sharing you so easily left a bitter taste in his mouth. He wanted you whole, wanted you alone, wanted more than the scraps of a night shared with three others.

Heeseung realized this wasn't just another nameless, faceless memory to throw away. He didn't want this to be the last time. He wanted more of you—your laugh, your trembling voice, your warmth pressed against him. The only thing he had left was the trace of your scent, still lingering faintly on his skin and in the air, that floral sweetness that he couldn't shake no matter how many showers he took. It drove him mad.

"Hey, I tried your perfume and it doesn't smell nearly as nice on me as it does on you." 

Your classmate pouted, watching you rub lotion into your arms after swim class. Her tone was playful, but her eyes lingered longer than usual, narrowing slightly at the fading bruises that scattered along your thighs.

"—Wait, are you okay? What's with all these marks?" she asked, her voice shifting, curious but edged with concern as her gaze dropped to your legs, then caught on your wrist where faint discoloration still traced your skin.

You forced a small smile, your hands moving carefully as though the weight of her stare could dig deeper into your body. "Anemia," you said lightly. "You know how it gets sometimes."

She frowned, unconvinced, but didn't press further. You focused on squeezing another bit of lotion into your palm, your thoughts drifting elsewhere. The bottle was nearly empty, and you hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should buy another or try something different.

It had been two weeks. Two weeks since your body had been pushed to its limit, since you had let yourself fall apart in the arms, mouths, and cocks of four men who you never should have gotten tangled with.

As much as it thrilled you to remember, you knew it wasn't something you could ever share. Not with your classmates, not with anyone. This was yours alone.

And so, you smiled at your friend, pretending everything was normal, while inside, you cherished the memory of a night you swore you'd never tell.

You tied your damp hair back, the strands clinging to your neck as you tugged on a sweatshirt and shorts. A light mist of perfume lingered as you sprayed your wrists, your throat, the curve of your shoulder, even down your spine as though you could drown yourself in that sweet comfort.

"God, you smell so good again," your friend whined, fanning herself dramatically. You only chuckled and brushed her off, slipping your bag onto your shoulder before following the group.

The conversation turned quickly, as it always seemed to these days.

"How come those fuckboys keep throwing parties and we never hear a word after? It's like magic," one girl scoffed, and the others broke into agreement, voices overlapping with laughter.

"Right? I swear they must be fucking someone every time," another chimed in, clapping her hands for emphasis. "No way they're just drinking. But no one ever talks. Like—ever."

Their voices carried ahead of you while you trailed behind, smiling faintly, shaking your head as if their words were just another baseless rumor. Inside, though, your chest tightened. If only they knew. If only they could imagine half of what had happened that night. But you weren't about to let them. You had no intention of ever telling a single soul.

That night was a secret carved into you, and the four of them had reputations built on silence—no communication, no strings, no trace.

You sighed, crouching down to fix your shoelace, the chatter of your classmates fading as they moved further down the hall. One of them called your name over their shoulder, urging you to hurry, but before you could respond, the sound of measured steps came closer. A shadow cut across the floor in front of you.

You froze.

Slowly, your gaze lifted from the shoes planted right in front of you. And your heart stopped.

"Found you," a low voice drawled, threaded with satisfaction, almost a taunt.

Gasps erupted behind you, your classmates halting in their tracks.

Your eyes widened. Heeseung was really there, standing over you in broad daylight, surrounded by people, breaking his own rules without hesitation. You couldn't move, couldn't breathe.

Then, without warning, he crouched down in front of you. The tall, untouchable Heeseung—the one who ignored every girl who chased after him, who made it clear he wanted nothing to do with messy attention—was kneeling, his long fingers brushing over your loose shoelace.

"I had a hard time finding you," he muttered, not loud enough for anyone but you to hear. His tone was casual, but his jaw was tight, his movements sharp with frustration as he tied the knot in one clean motion. "It really pissed me off, you know?"

Your throat went dry. Heat crawled up your neck, spreading across your face until you felt the tips of your ears burn.

Why? Why was he here? Why was he talking to you? This wasn't the Heeseung everyone else knew. He never lowered himself like this—not in front of everyone, not where people could see. He shut girls down without a glance, his cold indifference the very thing that made them chase harder. Yet here he was, focused on you with an intensity that made your stomach twist.

Around you, your classmates whispered furiously, unable to hide their shock. Some covered their mouths, others exchanged wide-eyed looks, but no one dared step closer.

"Can we talk?" His voice was steady, but softer than you expected, almost coaxing.

When you finally dared to look at him, his eyes caught yours. They weren't the eyes of the cold, untouchable Heeseung everyone claimed to know. No, they were gentle, wide, almost disarming, like he was looking through you and not just at you. He smiled—small, sweet, almost shy—and your lips trembled against the sudden wave of nerves.

"H-Huh?" Your voice cracked embarrassingly.

Before you could gather yourself, he reached forward and plucked your bag from your shoulder. His hand found yours in the same motion, his long fingers curling around your palm. The contact made your knees weaken, a sharp rush of heat flooding your chest.

Heeseung was holding your hand. Heeseung, who never even let girls close enough to breathe the same air without brushing them off, was lacing his fingers with yours in front of everyone!

"Let's get out of here first, hmm?" His tone carried a teasing lilt, but his grip on your hand was firm.

You could hardly process as he tugged you gently in the opposite direction, away from your frozen classmates whose whispers grew louder. Each step with him felt surreal, like walking straight into a dream you weren't ready for but couldn't pull away from.

Then, as if to seal the knot of heaviness swirling in your chest, his head tilted close, his breath warm against your ear.

"It's now my turn to have you all to myself."

perm taglist: @tender-is-the-moon @gabrielinhaa @dulcetnostalgia @simbabyikeu @dreamycarat-recs @skzenhalove @graythecoffeebean @kiikiisblog @denleave1088 @matchacake2 @wonsveese @l4nnisworld @sieunah @ikeuheartz @heeshlove @archivedrose @smlbch @middstape @angelhyuka @dazedhee @scaramionee @si3rren @rosepetals09 @roslayy @mangoescrazy @arclviie @fancypeacepersona @immelissaaa @ikaw-at-ikaw @won4me @kristynaaah @tunafishyfishylike @heesmiles

[cstark3000]

😼

[taeghi]

a lee heeseung series - 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞

[ their profiles ] (updated profiles) | [a playlist]

PAIRING ▸ lee heeseung x fem bodied!reader

SUMMARY ▸ realizing that jake won't fall in love with you after overhearing he's only into experienced girls is something that you thought would crush your chances for good- thankfully, heeseung is up to teach you a few things, even if he does hate you.

WORD COUNT ▸ 42,400

GENRE ▸ enemies 2 lovers, angst, SMUT ; handjobs, blowjobs, fingering, protected and unprotected sex, choking, biting, etc lol

TAGLIST ?? (lmk if u wanna tagged for this lol)

[part 𝘖𝘕𝘌] release date : sunday, june 26th 2022 @ 10pm EST

summary ▸ realizing that jake won't fall in love with you after overhearing he's only into experienced girls is something that you thought would crush your chances for good- thankfully, heeseung is up to teach you a few things, even if he does hate you.

word count ▸ 9,800

[part 𝘛𝘞𝘖] release date : sunday, july 3rd 2022 @ 10pm EST

summary ▸ getting isa and jake to fall in love with you and heeseung is harder than it seems to be- especially now when the whole school thinks you two are dating.

word count ▸ 11,264

[part 𝘛𝘏𝘙𝘌𝘌] release date : sunday, july 17th, 2022 @ 10:30 pm est

summary ▸ heeseung makes progress towards isa becoming his girlfriend- until he doesn't and you wonder if he made it backfire on purpose.

word count ▸ 10,956

[part FOUR] release date : sunday, july 31st, 2022 @ 10 pm est

summary ▸ you figure out your relationships with jake and heeseung.

word count ▸ 10,400

[paarksunghoon]

KISS IT BETTER — JONGSEONG

SUMMARY: park jongseong is the kind of guy who likes to put his back against the wall to observe everybody before him and he likes the calm high only marijuana can provide when jake forces him out of his bedroom to socialize. enter you: a beautiful enigma in a black mini skirt and the only person who could get him higher than his favorite drug.

NOTES: a purely self indulgent fic. happy birthday jongseong 🖤

WORD COUNT: 23.8K

WARNINGS: marijuana use, extensive dry humping, jay being equally obsessed with ass and tits, reader having a rack and a big ass, oral (m & f receiving), mild ass play if you squint, confident & slightly bratty mc, unprotected sex, mating press, solo masturbation (m), jay is a walking green flag. I wrote most of this while stoned so maybe that should be a warning in itself...

🎧 kiss it better — the playlist

Jay doesn't have to announce that he smokes; his clothes smell earthy with the faint scene of leaf and smoke that lingers on all of his shirts and jackets. He always keeps a lighter on him in case there's an opportunity to get high or help someone else achieve that euphoria. Most times, Jay smells of vanilla and sandalwood from his favorite cologne that he intentionally sprays on his body for the longest lasting effect. It masks the scent or marijuana and wafts through his jet black hair, which has been cut short as of a week ago. He keeps to himself mostly, often preferring not to mingle with people who don't know how to carry a conversation. Jay hates unnecessary small talk. He'd rather people call him recluse than subject himself to people who only talk to him out of obligation.

Despite his quiet and introverted tendencies, he's friends with Jake, who is almost always the loudest person in the room. Jake is the type of person who can crack a smile and start a conversation with anybody. He doesn't mind if the small talk is bland and boring, unlike Jay, who counts the seconds until it's over. Jake loves it when the attention is on him like any other twenty-year-old something who's just gotten used to leaving home for the first time.

Their apartment on the outskirts of Seoul is less of an apartment and more like a small house, courtesy of Jay's exceptionally rich parents who dropped an unprecedented amount of money into his bank account despite the fact that he has a job. They don't particularly love that he works at a guitar repair shop or that he occasionally teaches people how to play the instrument when he has a free weekend, but Jay's never been the kind of person to care about what other people think of him as long as he's doing what he loves.

Well, that's how he's been ever since he started smoking.

Some time back in high school during the summer before his third year, he'd somehow met a freshly graduated student looking to sell off the rest of his marijuana before moving away for college. No way he could pack that shit in his luggage and fly halfway across the world with it in his possession. The plug was a friend of a friend. On a hot Thursday summer night, Jay smoked from a bong for the first time. He coughed and coughed, grateful that neither his friend nor the plug laughed at him for too long. The high didn't kick in until the third try when Jay had learned how to properly inhale.

If he could describe that first taste of euphoria, Jay would probably say it felt like walking on cloud nine with his head feeling heavier than a rock while the rest of his body felt as light as a feather. He could finally focus on one thing at a time instead of his brain running with a million thoughts. This was what it meant to let loose and be in the present moment. His friends thought he spent too much time worrying about the future instead of basking in the here and now. Jay finally understood what they were talking about.

When you first catch his eye, it's in the basement of his apartment. You arrived forty minutes prior along with your friends, some of whom he knows from around campus, and he looks at your exceptionally short black skirt that hugs your curves. The weather is starting to warm up with summer approaching beyond the horizon, even during the nighttime. Jay's red, bloodshot eyes rake over the expanse of your exposed legs and stop at the hem of the fabric before he peeks at your top, which is surely too small to properly cover your chest. It's a wonder how you haven't noticed him blatantly checking you out, but then again, the music is loud and there's far too many people in this room to make him stand out.

You look at Jay when the rest of your friends start to gather around the couch he's sitting on. Jake, who has migrated towards the coffee table with bottles of beer and soju, puts the drinks on the surface and starts pouring shots like the alcohol will give everybody enough courage to fly if they tried hard enough. He watches as you take a look at him too. Jay wears loose fitting black jeans and an old grey t-shirt he's worn one too many times. He's ditched his signature leather jacket because the apartment is warm with all the bodies that move before him and because it's his place. There's no use putting one on when he can walk upstairs to his bedroom if he gets cold. He never does. Several silver necklaces adorn his neck accompanied with matching silver jewelry that somehow makes his fingers look much longer than when his hands are completely bare. The callouses on his fingertips wrap around the joint in his hands—which is halfway finished—by the time you walk around the coffee table and look down at him.

"Is this seat taken?" Jay shakes his head.

"All yours."

He hears your polite thank you amidst noise. There's far too much for him to focus on, namely the chatter of multiple conversations and Jake's twenty-seven hour long playlist he puts on shuffle every time he hosts a party. Now he has to add in your perfume into the mix, which smells something like almond and cherries. Jay doesn't mean to inhale your scent, but it's kind of hard not to when you're sitting so close to him. The couch is only so big, anyway. Your thigh might as well be pushing against his if you weren't so polite.

"I like you what you did with your hair," you say, turning your body to look at him.

"Hm?" Jay hums.

"You hair. I like what you did with it," you repeat, using your index finger to point at his gelled hair, which he styled last minute thanks to Jake's suggestion. "It looks good on you."

"You think so?" You nod a few times. Jay can tell you're drunk from pregaming and the drinks his roommate and your friends have been passing around for the last hour or so.

"You look…edgy."

"Edgy?"

"Like, way too cool to be here."

Jay nearly scoffs at that. Too cool. Nobody's ever used that phrase to describe him before. Most people think he's too quiet for his own good or that he's a bit of a snob because he refuses to be part of the crowd that goes along with anything for the sake of looking like he has friends. Jay is the kind of person who keeps to himself until he feels comfortable enough to open up. Being vulnerable is not his forte. He'd rather keep everything to himself until he's given a reason to spill his guts. People tend to compare him to Jake and always wonder how the two of them are so close despite being so different. His best friend's loudness complements his quiet nature, even if it gets to be too overwhelming sometimes.

You, on the other hand, are the epitome of cool. Jay's never spoken to you in his life, but he's seen you around before. You never walk around campus without somebody trailing after you and on the rare occasions you're alone, he's seen you call out to somebody as they pass by. Jay doesn't know if you're a natural socializing magnet or if people seek you out on purpose. He doesn't know if there's much of a difference. Jay has never found the appeal of having a large friend group because he'd rather find a few people who he can trust than entertain people who don't really care about him. He doesn't know you well enough to make any assumptions beyond what he's witnessed, but you're friends with the girl Jake is talking to, which means he's been seeing you more than he ever has.

With his joint still lit, Jay laughs and the sound vibrates deep within him as the high continues making him feel like his head is much heavier than the rest of his body, just how he likes it. "You flatter me."

"You're Jay, right?" You ask. You tell him your name, which he already knows, but he chooses not to tell you that.

"Yeah, I am. Jake's roommate."

"I've heard a lot about you."

"Have you?"

"Good things, I promise," you tell him with a sweet smile. Jay's eyes barely flicker to your lips. You'd notice if you were sober, but you aren't. "Jake told me you play guitar. I think that's really cool."

"Do you play too?"

You shake your head. "Nope. I grew up playing piano. My parents never let me learn guitar because they wanted me to become a pianist."

"How's that going for you?"

"I can play Tchaikovsky without sheet music, but I really like learning about astronomy."

"You're either a disappointment or an exceptional daughter."

You giggle. Jay doesn't think he's made anyone make that sound before.

"Maybe a little bit of both. I crushed their dreams of seeing me in Carnegie Hall, but they're happy I chose a hard science as my major. I'm planning on going to grad school after taking a gap year."

"You're…very confident."

"Is that a bad thing?" You ask with the tilt of your head.

"Not at all. I'm just surprised."

"You are the cute guy with a joint and enough jewelry to last a lifetime. You look pretty confident to me." Your eyes rake over his hands, which are adorned with an assortment of silver rings before passing up his neck and to his ears, both of which are tastefully decorated. Jay looks at you and notices you're decked out in jewelry too. The gold tones complements you well.

"I think people shouldn't be afraid of accessorizing," Jay says.

"Fuck the clean girl aesthetic." You laugh. "I'm just kidding. People can do what they want. But I don't feel like myself unless my eyes are caked in eyeliner." Your makeup looks expertly put on. It's messy in a tasteful way, like you didn't try too hard even though you probably took your time getting ready.

"It looks nice on you."

"You think so?"

Jay nods. "Makes you look like a rock star."

"You're one to talk," you say, letting your eyes fall again.

The joint burns quicker than he'd like and in lieu of a response, Jay takes another puff and hopes he doesn't come off as socially awkward. He inhales and holds it in his lungs as casually as he can before turning his head away to blow the smoke anywhere but in your face. Jay can feel your eyes watching his lips as he brings the joint to his mouth and feels his neck start to warm up.

"Do you want to take a hit?" He asks, holding the joint out for you.

"Do you care if I get lip gloss on it?"

As if he'd pass up the chance to taste it.

He pushes the joint closer to you until your nimble fingers take it from him and he watches intently as your lips enclose around the opening. You've already got your lip gloss on it, something he can only describe as cherry cola, but he doesn't really care. Maybe he's high or maybe he knows a thing or two about pretty girls who like to make their lips look real kissable, but Jay takes note of your brown lip liner that makes you look even more delectable than when you were standing across the room from him.

Like the polite girl you are, you turn your head away to blow the smoke out of your mouth. You take it like a champ, too. You inhaled quite a bit and he was sure he'd have to get up from his spot on the couch to grab you a glass of water—or make Jake do it—but you cough only once to clear your throat before turning back around and inspecting the lip gloss that's managed to taint the paper. You smile and laugh when you notice it, flicking your eyes back towards Jay as you pass the joint back to him.

"Sorry," you apologize. "I really tried not to get any on there."

"S'okay. It happens," he mumbles, trying not to become too transfixed with the way you rub your lips together.

"Do you always offer your joints to strangers you see at parties?"

"Only if they're pretty."

Jesus. He's never this bold when he's sober. Jay sees a flicker of bashfulness in your expression when he says it, though. He isn't used to talking to girls like Jake is because he's got more things to worry about than wondering when he'll get his dick wet. He's the kind of guy that likes to take things slow and only jumps in on opportunities if they happen naturally. Jake's tried to introduce him to a few girls in the past but it never felt right.

Something about you smoking the joint he rolled twenty minutes before this party began is making him feel differently.

"Do you think I'm pretty, Jay?" Caught between embarrassment and bravado, he chooses the latter.

"Very pretty."

"I think you're pretty too."

"Do you?"

You nod. "Always have. I've seen you around campus before. You've got this mysterious thing going on. It works for you."

"Did Jake put you up to this?" He asks, shaking his head before inhaling a small puff.

"He didn't," you tell him. "I'm not really friends with Jake. Well, we know each other because we've shared a few classes and because he's talking to my best friend. No colluding here."

You move closer to him only slightly, but Jay's high and the only thing he can focus on is your exposed thigh inching closer towards his own. Your skirt has already ridden up so far because of the position you're sitting in and because it's hard to fix your clothes when you aren't standing up. If he looked down, Jay would see your tits practically shoving themselves in his face because of the tight, low cut. But even when he's inebriated, Jay is a gentleman, so he maintains his composure and keeps a respectful distance.

"Can I have another hit?" He gives the joint back to you and tries his best not to gawk at your lips again. "This isn't your scene, is it?"

"It is if Jake asks me to come," he answers, watching you tilt your head back to exhale. "I'm not a party guy, but it's my house and it'll be just as loud in my bedroom."

"I see," you say with a hum, looking at the group of people that have gathered near the table at the far end of the room. "It's not really my scene either."

"It's not?"

You shake your head. "I go to these things because my friends like to and I like them. Don't get me wrong, I like going out, but I think I'd rather smoke with a few people in my apartment instead."

"What would you rather be doing?"

"Depends on my mood. Right now I'd rather be high on my roof stargazing. I also like watching anime a lot. I'd rather be doing that alone in my bedroom."

"You must really like your friends to come out tonight." You laugh and Jay thinks it sounds like his favorite melody.

"I have my moments where I want to go out. I think my introversion comes out sometimes, but it's my last year of university and who knows when I'll be able to see all my friends in one place. What about you? What would you rather be doing?"

"Is it obvious that I'm bored?"

"Well, you look like you'd rather hide in your room than stay down here."

"I don't know anyone well enough," Jay tells you. "Not bad company, everyone's just a stranger tonight."

"But not me, right?" You ask, leaning in closer to him.

His eyes flicker down to your lips before looking back at you.

"No. Not you," he murmurs. "I know you now."

"Come play beer pong!" Jake shouts, interrupting the conversation from halfway across the room. When Jay turns his head to look, everyone has migrated to the table with red solo cups perfectly aligned on both sides. Your friends call out for you and Jay assumes you must be really good at this game if they're this adamant about you playing.

"Come with me?" You ask him, standing up while outstretching your hand to him. He only hesitates for a second before putting the joint in his mouth and putting his hand in yours.

Already, he notes how soft your palms are and the long, pointy shape of your nails that have been painted a dark shade of purple. Jay tries not to stare at your joined hands for too long because he doesn't want to seem like he's gawking, especially when he's surrounded by people you know. You lead him towards the crowd as Jake pours beer in the remaining empty cups.

You don't drop his hands immediately. Instead, you turn towards him and look up, batting your eyelashes. "Can I have another hit? For good luck?"

"Won't that make you loose focus?"

"I'm really good at beer pong."

Instead of giving you the joint, Jay holds it up to your mouth and watches you envelope the tip into your mouth. He doesn't hide the fact that he's staring, nor do you hide the fact that you're looking at him as he looks at you. He can hear your friend telling you to hurry up but you don't, instead choosing to inhale as much as you can before pulling away, holding it in your lungs, and blowing the smoke behind you.

"You know the rules," Jake says, standing across from you with a ping pong ball in his hand. "No pushing or blocking. I want a clean, fair game."

"Until the next round," your friend says.

Jake smirks. "Until the next round."

You finally let go of his hand to stand next to your friend and Jay can't help but trail his eyes until he looks at your ass. Fuck. You look exceptional in that skirt. He pulls his gaze away to avoid looking like a creep checking you out while you're bending over, but can anyone blame him? With every move and every stop, your skirt rides up your incredible thighs and he almost wishes he could push the fabric up just to see what you look like underneath it.

True to your word, you're really good at beer pong. Jake is far more drunk than you and your friend and his partner is barely carrying his weight. You, on the other hand, manage to sink the ping pong ball into the cup every single time you throw it. Jay relishes in Jake's defeated expression when he has to drink out of a cup, partially because his best friend wouldn't allow him to hole himself in his bedroom all night, and partially because Jay finds your hand-eye coordination really attractive. He finishes the remainder of the joint and finds a spare ash tray somewhere behind him.

The game ends eventually. Jay watches you and your best friend share a celebratory embrace and he can't help but let a ghost of a smile adorn his lips when he sees how happy you are now that you've won. Half of your drinks are still on the table while Jake's cups are nearly empty. Your friend walks to the other side of the table to console his best friend, who asks to team up for the next round as an excuse to be close to her, when you grab a two of the red cups and lift one to his mouth.

"Drink with me?"

He doesn't say no. Jay's knees nearly buckle when you maintain eye contact over the rim of the cup until you finish yours, which prompts him to finish his own. He doesn't particularly like the taste of warm, cheap beer, but he'd drink the rest of it if that meant staying by your side.

"Congratulations on the win. Jake's really bad at beer pong and hasn't improved in the four years I've known him," Jay says somewhat awkwardly, too high to find the confidence to act like he's sober enough to have a proper conversation with you. You're faring much better than he is, but he thinks it's probably because you're naturally good with people.

"I've played him a few times and you're right, he's terrible at it," you say with a short laugh. "What about you? Are you any good?"

"I'm decent, but I prefer staying on the sidelines instead of playing."

"That's okay." You smile up at him. "You can be my cheerleader from now on."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm," you hum. You hold your hand up in front of him. "Give me your phone."

"My phone?"

"I wanna give you my number, silly."

Jay nearly chokes. You're really pretty. He'd have to be an idiot to deny your request.

He fishes his phone from his pocket, grateful for his past self that decided to bring it downstairs instead of leaving it in his room like he usually does. After unlocking it, he hands the device to you and watches the way your fingers wrap around the case as you type your number. He's surprised when you take a picture of yourself in front of him to have as your contact photo before you hand it back. Your contact name is simple, spelled in all lowercase with a singular black heart right next to it.

God, you're something.

"Don't be a stranger, okay?"

✧･ﾟ─────────── ✧･

It's been two weeks since then.

Sober Jay from the morning after somehow convinced himself that you weren't serious about him texting you. It must've been the weed, right? Or maybe it was the atmosphere at the party. Things like this happen to Jake, not him.

But here you are, walking towards him with a big smile on your face.

Lee Heeseung cocks his head and looks between the two of you. He watches Jay notice you from the corner of his eye, slowing his gait as if to check if it's really you, before looking ahead and taking another step forwards. Heeesung raises an eyebrow and pulls Jay by the arm.

"You shouldn't ignore a gorgeous girl who wants your attention," says Heeseung, clearly giving you a once over. You don't seem to notice because you're too busy trying to get Jay's to look at you. "Do you know her?"

"Barely," Jay mutters.

"It looks like she knows you."

"We met at a party a couple of weeks ago, is all. We barely know each other."

"I'll come over after work," Heeseung says, effectively patting Jay on the shoulder before he leaves.

"Heeseung—"

"Jay!" You say from beside him. He looks down at you, giving Heeseung the chance to slip away without saying a proper goodbye. "Who's your friend?"

"Nobody important," Jay mumbles. "What are you doing here?"

"In the public quad?" He tries not to let a blush form atop his cheeks. "You didn't text me."

There's no use in trying to come up with a cohesive answer. He opens his mouth like he's a fish out of water, but you keep looking at him like you're amused.

"I didn't think you were serious."

"I even added a contact picture."

It's a fucking good one too.

"Here," you say, pulling your phone out of your pocket. "Put your number in my phone."

"This feels like déjà vu."

"I thought about finding your Instagram or asking around for your number, but you could've ignored me there too. I figure I'd find you and ask you myself."

Jay's never had anybody this interested in him. He's had girlfriends in the past, but they always felt like placeholders. He's pretty sure his ex-girlfriends felt the same way about him too. You, on the other hand, have been bold and forward ever since the first time you laid your eyes on him. Ever since sharing that joint a couple of weeks ago, Jay's felt this strange sense of his heartstrings being pulled involuntarily.

The truth is, he hasn't stopped thinking about you since that night. In the evening, when Jake is asleep or gaming with his noise cancelling headphones, Jay would pull up your contact and stare at your image for hours. He'd fantasize about seeing you again before feeling embarrassment for conjuring such an image. There have been to many times where he'd draft a text message just to delete it altogether. Jay can't pinpoint why he refrained from reaching out to you, but deep down, he knows it's because he's scared of being rejected by you.

And yet, here you are, asking for his phone number.

you: hi jay!!

"Don't be a stranger. I mean it this time," you tell him as you pocket your phone and walk away.

"Fuck," he whispers. He's never felt such exhilaration in his entire life.

Jay does text you back. He texts back approximately four hours later (after conferring with Heeseung on what he should say) and settles on being just as direct as you. He figures dinner and a movie is a safe bet, especially since he doesn't know you well enough to know what you'd be interested in. Heeseung tells Jay he's overthinking and fuck, he knows that, but it's hard not to when he really wants to impress you and make you believe he's more than just some guy you got high with at one of Jake's parties.

Sometimes Jay wonders if he jumps off of the deep end too fast. He'd never purposely make you feel like you need to rush into anything with him right off the bat, but he can't deny that his feelings towards you compile into something that feels like a crush. Smoking with you didn't feel like a one-time thing, especially since you held his fucking hand and told him to join you during that beer pong match. You let everyone see you drag him to the group. You didn't drop his hand for the sake of not wanting to be seen with him, but because your teammate needed you to be laser focused to win against Jake and his partner.

He'd never admit that you're on his mind at every waking hour. Perhaps he's been such a loner for so long, but Jake and Heeseung both would argue that Jay isn't a loner per se. Rather, he's someone who takes his time and has impossibly high standards because he wants to be completely sure about a decision before he goes all in. He's always been a bit indecisive like that, even in childhood. But it's not his fault that he's a careful person. Jay's careful with his mind, body, and soul.

You came into his life like a fucking thunderstorm. You've unarmed all of Jay's senses and made him forget being cautious like he usually does despite having only spent a few hours with you a couple of weeks ago. There's no rhyme or reason for your existence in his life and all you've done is share a joint and talk to him like you've known him all your life. He loves people like that. Jay's first encounter with Jake was at orientation during their first year of university and the latter had struck up a conversation because he simply didn't know anybody at the time. It was alarming in the best kind of way and Jay decided to take a leap of faith to befriend Jake. The rest is history, as they say.

Is it pathetic that he's thinking about making space in his life for you when he barely knows who you are? He knows you're beautiful, you like to get high, and you're exceptional at beer pong. There's not much he can go off of when he allows himself to fantasize about what it would be like to call you his girlfriend. God, Jay must be truly fucked in the head to think that far ahead when he's only hung out with you once. He'd never call himself a hopeless romantic or the kind of guy who believes in love at first sight, but something about your wondrous self makes him think otherwise.

Eventually, the two of you sit across from one another in a late night diner after seeing The Drama.

"This whole movie was bullshit," you say, dipping french fries into a mixture of ketchup and hot sauce. "I mean, Emma didn't go through with her original plan. Her belief system was completely shaped after finding her friend group. Shouldn't that count for something? Everyone else at that table did some fucked up shit, but Emma was the only one who didn't."

"Rachel was a terrible friend," Jay says with a definite nod. "Her husband—what was his named again? Mike?—was useless the entire time. All of this could've been avoided if Emma and Charlie postponed the wedding to talk about it."

"I couldn't help but notice how everyone except for Emma showed their true personalities. Rachel locked that kid in a closet and didn't help him. She got spooked and let left him to the wolves, which is exactly how she treated her best friend. Mike was a pussy who used his ex-girlfriend as a human shield and he did that again by hiding behind Rachel, no? And Charlie…he didn't even know what happened to the kid he cyberbullied and wrestled with that until he got over it. All three of them repeated their mistakes but Emma was the only one who didn't."

Jay can't help but look at you in awe. Underneath the awful diner lighting, you look beautiful as you dive straight into your analysis and your late night dinner. He can get talkative too, something his parents used to scold him for, and part of him thinks they're the reason why he feels conditioned to keep his opinions and feelings to himself. There are a few people, like Jake and Heeseung, who naturally bring out his loquacious tendencies. Jay feels that way with you and he loves that you aren't afraid to tell him what you think, even if it isn't pleasant.

"How did you feel about the ending? When Charlie and Emma met up at the diner and pretended everything was okay?"

"I honestly don't even know," you say with an exasperated sigh. "If that were me, I would've advised both of them to postpone the wedding and get extensive couples therapy. You?"

"I would've done the same thing," he replies. "They didn't seem like a great fit to me from the start. I mean, why didn't Charlie just read the book before their first date?"

"Men are the worst," you say, rolling your eyes. Jay nods in agreement. Men really do suck.

"Hopefully our night will end better than theirs."

You raise an eyebrow. "With me in a wedding dress and you bloody and bruised?"

Picturing you in a wedding dress makes his heart skip a beat.

"No," he said with a slight blush. "I hope we enjoy our food and maybe you like me enough to want to do this again."

"Let's see how the night ends first," you say coyly. "But I'm having a great time, if that's any consolation. The movie might've been bad, but the company isn't."

Jay laughs and looks down at his plate. "You say things that make me think you're flirting with me."

"What if I am?"

He looks back up at you. "Aren't I the one supposed to make you blush?"

"We still have the whole night ahead of us, Jay. There's plenty of time for that."

"I was surprised when you came up to me at the party," Jay confesses. "I'm not the type of person to just…go up to people the way you do. I thought that was cool. I didn't want to fuck tonight up."

"You could've texted me sooner," you tease, grabbing a fry from his plate. "But it's fine. I'm the kind of person who believes in fate, or whatever you want to call it. Whatever happens is supposed to happen."

"That's a beautiful way of putting it."

"Do you remember what I said to you? I could've looked you up on Instagram or ask Jake but you could've ignored me there too." Jay blushes, shutting his eyes closed. You laugh when you see him and take a sip of your chocolate milkshake.

"God, I don't know why I convinced myself that you were joking."

"Well, I actually told myself that if I saw you in person, that would mean it's worth trying again."

"Really?" You shrug.

"Yup. Simple as that. I desire many things and let fate handle the rest."

"You are…extremely poetic."

"I'm not afraid to say what's on my mind," you tell him. "I think you could learn a thing or two from me."

"I think you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen," Jay says without missing a beat. He holds your gaze, which makes his fingers twitch, but he doesn't relent. It's your turn to be bashful now and he relishes in the sight of you breaking eye contact first.

"You really flatter me, Jay."

"I'm only saying what's on my mind. It's all I've been thinking about for the past two weeks, actually. I can't seem to get you out of my head and I can't tell if that's a good or bad thing."

"It's a good thing," you say. "Definitely a good thing."

Jay pays the entire bill. Your apartment isn't very far from here, just a short seven minute drive. With you sitting in his passenger seat, he has the itch to put his palm on your thigh as some kind of silent claim, but he doesn't because the two of you haven't even kissed.

The short drive ends quickly and you make a passing comment about how the night is still young because it's Friday and you don't have anywhere to be tomorrow morning. Jay decides to push his overthinking tendencies to the side, asking if you'd want to keep hanging out while he drives aimlessly all over down. You say yes and make a joke about how much gas he'd be wasting, but he tells you he doesn't mind it if you're the one he's driving with, and that makes you blush.

It's unfathomable how comfortable Jay is with you already. It's only been one date (two, if you count when you first met), but he's already falling in deep. You talk about life like you're excited to be alive and make him feel like there's something at the end of every tunnel. He learns so much about you by listening to all the things you aren't saying and asks question after question. You do the same, making him feel like he's part of the conversation instead of focusing solely on yourself and Jay gets the sense that you really want to get to know him too. Sometimes he thinks he can talk for hours without anyone interrupting and he feels like this habit of his annoys people around him. But not you, apparently. You hang onto every word and don't interrupt him.

After a near hour of driving, Jay finds himself back at your apartment and walks you to the front door like the gentleman he is.

"I had a really great time tonight," he says, looking down at you. It's unfair how beautiful you are underneath the moonlight.

"You surprised me, Jay."

"I did?"

"Mhm. I always thought you were the lonesome, brooding type. You're intimidating, you know that? Especially when you're smoking. You look…untouchable." He laughs at that.

"Is that a good thing?" Jay asks, looking at the way your eyes travel up and down his body. His neck feels warm all of the sudden.

"It's a really good thing," you say, pushing yourself closer to Jay. "You're too cool to be in most places."

"You're one to talk. You know exactly who you are. That's intimidating."

"I don't go out with just anyone, you know. I made an exception."

"For me?"

"For you."

His eyes flicker down to your lips. He can barely believe his life. Jay must look like he's fighting some invisible urge to remain the gentleman you deserve, but you aren't having that. "Kiss me, Jay."

He does.

God, your lips are so soft. The lip gloss rubbed off an while ago but he still tastes the remnants. Jay's already lost in the feeling of your mouth on his, carefully putting both of his hands on your hips. The feeling of pure adrenaline becomes more intense when he's kissing you with his eyes closed and Jay can only feel an exhilarated jolt in his body when he realizes you're kissing him back. The kiss is as polite as it can be for two semi-horny twenty-year-old-somethings making out in the dead of night, right where anyone could see the two of you. Jay doesn't care, though, and he doesn't think you do either.

It's short-lived because you drop your keys, startling the two of you until you both pull away.

"You taste incredible," Jay says without fully thinking.

"Come upstairs with me?" You ask him in a rush, bending over to pick up your fallen keys.

"Only if you want me to."

"I do, Jay. Come in."

Jay doesn't have time to look at the decor in the living room because you're hauling him past the dark kitchen and up the stairs. You drag him in such a haste that he stumbles as he takes his shoes off, unable to place them neatly by the door. For a second, Jay's worried that the two of you will wake up your roommate, but you open your door and pull him inside with brute force that he stops thinking with his brain and starts thinking with his cock.

Your room is cute. It's very you, dark with red and purple accents with posters and artwork covering every inch of you wall in a tasteful manner. Your desk is littered with makeup, your headphones, and other miscellaneous items Jay can't make out in the dark. The window by your bed provides a bit of moonlight for him to see and he's grateful for it because he's watching you take off your shirt. Your bra is midnight black. A push up, most likely, making your chest look like a cardinal sin. Jay can't help but let his eyes drop to your tits, his eyes watching you breathe heavily.

"Fuck me," Jay whispers. It cuts through the silence of the night and he's about to apologize when you pull him by his neck until his lips are back on yours.

The two of you tumble onto your queen sized bed, effectively pulling Jay's chest to fall flush against yours. He feels you try to push off his jacket, to which he pulls his arms out before tossing it somewhere behind him, while his lips chase after your plush ones. Your hands are all over his body and Jay's horny brain prevents him from holding back like he was when the two of you were outside your front door. You're kissing him just as enthusiastically, fingers clawing at his clothing as your hands explore his chest and abdomen, making Jay recoil at your sensitive touch.

He doesn't know what to focus on. Your voice is breathy and light and your mouth tastes like an invitation to sin underneath the moonlight. Jay can barely register your tits pressing up against his chest because his dick is starting to harden in his jeans with every second that passes. Your mouth leaves his own and he holds back a pathetic whine because he wants to keep kissing you while you're underneath him, but your wet lips attach to his hot neck. He almost forgot how good it feels to be touched by somebody he's actually excited about. Sex isn't always just sex to him and he thinks there must be something fundamentally wrong with him for being unable to truly live in the moment if he isn't completely attracted to the girl he's with. Hovering above your semi-naked body with your mouth sucking on his warm skin makes him feel like his soul is on fire burning with unashamed desire.

It's hard to keep still when you're kissing him like you're desperate for him too. His fingertips itch to move your bra and panties out of the way, but he doesn't want to ruin a good thing by acting out of haste. When you pull your head back, presumably from the discomfort of craning your head at an uncomfortable angle, Jay sees his opportunity to make you feel as good as you make him feel. His mouth presses long, wet kisses along your jawline until you're moaning straight into the air and right next to his eardrum.

God. You sound divine.

You sound like a siren luring him into the deep end. He's a sailor braving the storm when he hears your song echoing from the distance, turning his ship from the traveling course to sail wherever you are. Your breathy voice and rolling hips makes his dick impossibly hard and Jay never imagined he'd ever get like this over dry humping, but you seem to take him out of his element and reward him for it.

Jay has long since stopped asking for verbal permission because he keeps getting cut off by your eager lips. Your hands have found their way to the back of his head, tugging on his soft strands the more he travels down your neck. His mouth sucks on the spot just underneath your earlobe and the euphoric tension makes your legs wrap around his body, effectively trapping him right where he wants to be. Jay would never complain about you clinging onto him like this. In fact, he wants to be as close as he possibly can with you.

Tugging on his roots causes him to groan against your skin. Your silent room makes the combination of your moans sound like something out of an amateur lewd film and it makes Jay's senses go haywire. The more you tug on his hair, the more he pushes his covered dick against the fabric of your panties. He can feel you. Jay notices the way you push your lap straight into his like you're trying to feel his cock through his denim. He savors the way your body arches deeply when his tongue licks your earlobe, making your entire body shudder to the point where Jay's arm catches you before you roll over.

"Take your shirt off," you moan with an opened mouth, moving your hands from his head to underneath the hem. Jay grunts when your manicured nails scratch down his toned abdomen. Fuck, your touch might as well send him in a spiral.

The shirt comes off and it'll live on your bedroom floor for the foreseeable future because the only thing on Jay's mind is the pure desire that emanates from your gaze. You resemble that of a hungry feline ready to pounce on your prey and Jay doesn't care that your eyes are raking all over his body. In fact, he finds it incredibly sexy that you're objectifying him like this—is it objectification if he allows it?—because it turns him on. Knowing you want him as badly as he wants you is the very on top. When it comes to you, getting his dick wet means absolutely nothing if you aren't into him too.

He's caught off guard momentarily, allowing you to push him until his back hits your mattress. Jay follows your body, watching and feeling the way you climb onto his lap like you're its rightful owner. This moment is something out of his wildest wet dream—you in a black lace bra with panties pasted onto your pussy because of how wet you've made them. Jay could only guess how turned on you were but now that he has a clear view of you, he almost can't believe you're letting him see you like this.

Jay doesn't think when he brings his thumb to nudge at your wet center. You buck your hips at that and let out this soft, airy moan that makes his cock twitch. He's sure you can feel it but he doesn't particularly care, not when you're grinding again his thumb that's rubbing you right over your covered clit.

"You're so wet," Jay groans, pushing the pad of his thumb harder against your swollen bud. "Your panties are soaked."

"You turn me on," you confess unashamed, hands coming to the button of his jeans as you try to take them off. Your long nails prove to be troublesome, though. Jay chuckles at your frustration and unbuttons his pants as you lift off of him until he's able to push them down far enough to reveal his boxers and the hardened outline of his dick.

His jeans sit uncomfortably halfway down his legs but Jay can't bring himself to care when you're looking down at his lap like his cock is a piece of mean. Did you mean to lick your lips or was that a natural response? You marvel at it for a short moment before crawling your way back up until your clothed core drags along his boxers and for the first time in a while, he doesn't have to rely on his hand or a spare toy to get him off.

Feeling your warmth is enough to get Jay's blood pumping even harder. He feels the metronome that is his heartbeat pounding in his ears when your hands roam around his naked chest, feeling every ridge and dip his abdomen and pecs have to offer. You run your fingertips over his nipples and Jay visibly shudders at that, to which you smile wickedly and laugh like you find him amusing. Your hips don't stop moving either, slowly grinding your panties over his boxers as if you've decided to take your sweet time with him compared to when you latched your mouth onto his neck like a leech.

Every drag of your hips brings him closer to Heaven. Jay's grateful he's sober for two reasons: he'd probably cum in his pants the second he saw you in your bra and the feeling of your hand repositioning his dick in your boxers so that your clit can rub over his tip is sensational. Jay's never fucked a girl who was so intentional before. He's familiar with putting on this persona of the guy who wants to take care of every girl he sleeps with (that's true for the most part) but his heart isn't in it half the time. But you…you know exactly what you want and you aren't afraid to take it. It's what he's grown to like about you over the course of his date with you and Jay's experiencing what that's like right now.

"Drag your pussy over me like you mean it," he grunts, bringing his hands to your body as if to guide you in a steady rhythm.

"Fuck," you curse. "This feels so fucking good."

"Your body's phenomenal," he groans like it's a confession he wants you to hear. "Why have you been hiding these pretty tits from me?"

You laugh at him, arching your back to give his face a full view of your chest. "You like these?"

"I love them," he replies, digging his fingertips into your flesh. "Makes me wanna see them with your bra off."

You comply like the deviant you are, expertly unhooking your bra and tossing it somewhere onto your bed. Jay almost drools at the sight of your erect nipples, licking his lips involuntarily. You look like a beautiful, demonic succubus straight from the deepest pits of hell meant to seduce Jay. He'd gladly sell his soul if that means he gets to be the only one to experience you like this.

Watching you from below might as well be the last thing he sees before he dies. Your tits look phenomenal as they bounce the more you drag your covered pussy over his lap. The soiled fabric must feel so good against your bare, wet pussy because you're moaning like your life depends on it. Your vocal moans bring him closer and closer to the edge he's trying not to peer over, but you make it hard when you look and sound like that. Sexy beyond compare. Jay's pictured this exact moment every single night as his hands cup his dick without him realizing it most times. He finds that his body responds to yours in ways it's never responded to anyone before and at this rate, he's let his cock do the thinking for him. Every single rational thought he's had about being a gentleman tonight has been thrown out of your window, never to be seen again.

Jay yanks you down by your neck and pushes your lips with his own until your tongues collide and smash against one another. The wet spit makes the whole affair that much more erotic, especially when Jay's bending his legs and lifting them up and thrust his covered dick right against your panties, paying no mind to the fact that his jeans are technically caught at his ankles. You two must look like two desperate people rutting your laps against one another, if he had to guess. Fuck it. It feels so good. Grinding into you like this makes him feel like he's in a quick haste. He wishes he could do more, like peel your clothes off and kiss every inch of your skin until he memorizes what your body tastes like, but you're both too far gone to think about that right now. You moan hotly against his lips and push your tongue against him harder like you're trying to get underneath his skin. It's working and Jay grabs your ass cheeks, gripping onto your meaty flesh while he moans and thrusts his hips like a wild bull.

"I'm close, Jay. Fuck, keep doing that and you'll make me cum," you moan, grinding your ass back onto him. The way the tip of his cock hits your wet patch is indescribable. He wishes he could feel that with his raw cock instead.

"You feel me like that? The way my dick pushes against you?" Jay grunts, bucking his hips. "This is just a preview. I'm going to fuck your pussy until you crave me when I'm gone."

"Yes, fuck!"

"Gonna fuck that drooling pussy of yours." Something about one particular thrust makes you yelp, making you cling onto him like your life depends on it. "Cum for me," Jay moans, gripping your ass tighter until you're moaning louder. "That's so hot. You're so hot."

"Cumming, cumming!"

"I'm cumming too," he grunts in short breaths.

Your covered pussy pushed against him when you come and Jay follows soon after. He feels the way his hot seed shoots straight from his slit and onto his boxers, the sticky substance rubbing against his skin with every thrust. Jay feels like a teenager coming like this but it's worth it when he looks up to see your eyes closed shut, mouth hanging open as you catch your breath and relieve yourself from the incredible high. The sweat on his forehead starts to cool when his hips thrust haphazardly against you and Jay spills the last of his semen into his pants when you drop your head to his shoulder.

The sounds of your heavy breaths fill the quiet room. Jay strokes your back when you breathe against his neck in a silent attempt to calm you down from the dirty affair, readjusting himself to let you lay your head completely on his chest. He kisses the crown of your head as you curl your fist against him and the feeling of your mouth littering soft kisses on his naked body makes his heart flutter.

However, the moment is cut short when you receive a call on your phone, startling the both of you. You yelp in his arms and his heart rate skyrockets until you're both looking at each other and laughing at the absurd juxtaposition having made each other come to an orgasm before your phone rang. Jay reluctantly lets you go, but he watches the way you turn back to look at him before answering.

"Now?" He hears you say. "What? I'm not out of breath. I just ran up the stairs, though. Okay sue, fried rice is fine. I'll see you in fifteen. Drive safe."

"Who was that?" Jay asks when you hang up the phone.

"My roommate," you reply. "I thought she was gonna be out until tomorrow, but her plans changed and now she's coming home with takeout."

"Great roommate, awful timing."

You smile at him apologetically, walking towards him until you're standing in between his legs. He sits on the edge of your bed and places his hands on your hips to draw you in closer to him, neck craning to look up as you bend down to give him a kiss.

"I'm sorry, Jay," you apologize. "I don't want to kick you out, but she's going to question you like she's my mother. You remember the girl Jake's talking to, right? That's her."

"She seems nice, though."

"She's the best," you say with a smile against his mouth. "She's my best friend and she's really protective over me. I don't really want her first time meeting you to be like, well…this."

"We've met before, though?"

"Yeah, but not as the guy I'm seeing." Jay feels his heart bounce against his chest. He likes the sound of that.

"Don't worry about it," he says, rubbing the pads of his thumbs over your skin. "I had a great time tonight. The date and the sex."

"I can't believe we dry humped on my bed," you giggle, looking down at his naked torso. "You're really hot, Jay."

"You're hotter," he says, kissing you again. "I should probably get dressed, huh?"

You pout. "I don't want you to go."

"I don't want to go either, but your friend is coming back." Jay pecks your lips and pushes you to the side to grab his discarded clothes and to fix his pants. His come is sticky in his boxers but there's no time for him to clean himself up, so he decides he'll brace the uncomfortable drive home.

"Stop being such a green flag," you grumble cutely, eyebrows furrowing like you can't believe he has the audacity to be respectful.

"You're so cute," he admits without thinking, leaning down to kiss you again before kissing your temple.

The two of you put your clothes back on and he stumbles back down the stairs, pretending like his legs aren't jello from humping you ten minutes ago. Jay becomes a happier version of himself when you walk him to his car and he kisses you one last time, his hand cupping the back of your neck to keep you in place. He leaves soon after that, watching the way you touch your lips and smile to yourself in the rear view mirror.

You're so cute.

✧･ﾟ─────────── ✧･

Despite that incredible night, exams get in the way of spending alone time together.

The two of you hang out on campus more than not after realizing the pathway to your classes overlap. Jay doesn't mind these innocent run ins (that have turned into intentional dates spending time with one another) because he learns more about you the more you talk. And the more you talk, the deeper he falls.

There's something about the way you carry yourself. You embody confidence that makes Jay want to kiss you all over and let everybody know you're with him. They probably do, since the two of you have graduated to holding hands in public (so much so that Heeseung and Jake have since started teasing him for it). Life feels better with you in it. Jay's never been the kind of person who lives for other people, but you're a welcome presence that feels like a steady addition to his life instead of a burden. He wakes up in the morning looking forward to hearing your every thought until your lungs burn from talking so much. He could listen to your voice forever. And you listen to him too, letting him drone on and on about everything and nothing at the same time. The conversations don't feel forced or make him feel like he's supposed to be interested for the sake of being polite.

Everything happens for a reason, right? People fall into place when the universe aligns or some shit like that. That's what Jay thinks when he's high out of his mind, sitting on his bed as he watches anime on his TV. He's been having more of these sentimental epiphanies lately. It's like his mind focuses on the positives instead of what obstacles he has in front of him. He used to think you were a welcomed distraction, but now he thinks you're actually a perfect complement.

There's no stress with you. Jay lets himself fall deeply through your intuitive nature and all the subtle things he picks up. He loves that you're more considerate than you give off, always taking the temperature of the room and thinking before you speak. You're loud, animated, and entirely too whimsical to ever peak in university. You've got a million stories to tell him and he learns so much about you with every anecdote that passes through your lips. Jay notices how guarded you are and can't help but feel so special that he's an exception to this condition. It almost feels like he's in the inner circle, but the payoff has less to do with access to you and more to do with the fact that he's watching you grow softer. It's as if you're allowing yourself to fall for him too.

He'd never rush or make you choose him when you aren't ready. Jay's the kind of person who adapts and takes things for what they are instead of trying to find the deeper meaning when there is none. You're so delicate in Jay's eyes. He's stopped overthinking with you and started taking initiative for things like holding your hand or suggesting things to do when the two of you aren't getting stoned or studying. He tries not to look at you when he sees you blushing, but it's hard to ignore how cute you look when you're trying (and failing) to pretend you aren't affected by Jay's ability to read your mind. He's developed this canny ability to read you like an open book. It's adorable to see you opening up to him in ways you don't with other people.

The four-day weekend is exactly what Jay needs.

Something about a student-led event followed by a national holiday. It doesn't matter. Jay has no interest in keeping up with student life nor did he care about it in the first place, but he's grateful for it this year because that means getting to spend more time with you. On Thursday, the two of you spent the entire day at the aquarium whilst high on edibles. On Friday morning, he paid for breakfast. Now it's Saturday evening and your excuse for knocking on his door at nine in the evening is because apparently, your best friend and Jake were planning on hooking up at your place and forgot to tell you.

You come to Jay's apartment naturally. You say this to him like it's a no-brainier before he could ask you why Jake hadn't invite your friend over instead because he hates making people feel like they have to go the extra mile to get what they want. But you laugh, already a bit high from an edible you had taken earlier, and ask him to roll a joint to share. Either way, the two of you will be alone and it doesn't really matter the location, your place or his. It starts to make sense the second Jay's high kicks in because he's noticing the fact that you're wearing a shirt that lets him know you aren't wearing a bra.

His mind wanders and he thinks about all the selfies you've sent him where your tits are clearly on display. Somewhere along the way, you've graduated from sending photos of yourself to pictures of your body like you're trying to entice him. It always works, especially when the photo is just shy of a proper nude. He thinks it's sexier that way and he's grown enough confidence to send you things as a thank you, including shirtless photos, dick prints, and pictures of himself after getting out of the shower. He'd like to think you're using these to get off, imagining what you'd look like shoving your fingers inside of your pussy. Jay pictures your toes curling and eyebrows pinching when that final thrust makes you come, your free hand scrolling through all of the suggestive photos he's sent you as you orgasm.

It comes to a head one night when he received a picture of your ass when he asks you about the color of your nails since you had mentioned an appointment earlier that day. God. It looks just as plush as it does in real life. One of your hands cups your ass cheek, your perfectly manicured nails on display right next to your perfect ass. Jay grows rock hard in record time, his dick swelling in his sweats until he pulled it down just enough to reveal himself. He sat in the middle of his bed with his back against the headboard, one hand stroking himself as the other holds his phone so that he could stare at the image. Tugging on himself wasn't enough. Jay wanted you to be the one to do it. Dry humping can't be how far the two of you go. Imagining himself burying his face in your ass is what compels him to record a video of himself finishing, angling his dick towards his chest as he comes everywhere as he moans your name. He sends it to you without thinking and you call a minute later. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to realize the two of you ended up having phone sex.

And well, Jay is a man after all. This is all he can think about as you're sitting next to him on the very couch you sat on when he first met you. It doesn't help that he's high, which is making him laser focused on the image of you grinding on top of him.

With the ceiling fan turned on and Jake out of the house, Jay doesn't bother stepping outside to light his joint. Not that Jake would mind. Matter of fact, it does something to Jay's psyche knowing you're smoking his stuff and getting high off of it too. It makes him feel like he has some invisible claim on you, even if you're getting high with other people. He'd rather not think about that.

"What do you wanna watch?" Jay asks after blowing out a puff of smoke. He passes the joint to you as you sift through the abundance of movies and television shows, aimlessly scrolling past them without giving it too much thought.

"I'm in the mood to watch something supernatural," you say. He watches you look at his TV intently. "Have you ever watched Castlevania?"

"Can't say I've ever heard of it."

You turn your head like what he's said is completely outrageous. "You're lying."

"Sorry to disappoint."

"I need a hit after hearing that." You laugh, making Jay want to physically melt into the couch as if his skin and bones are made of butter. You inhale the smoke like a professional and tuck your legs underneath your body to make yourself more comfortable on his couch.

"Is it that good?"

"Jay, it's like, the best show I've ever watched. It's about this guy named Trevor—who comes from a long line of monster hunters, fighting Dracula because his wife was accused of being a witch and burned at the stake. Everyone's a vampire. It's sexy."

"You like the dark and supernatural, don't you?"

"It's only the best genres ever, Jay." You take another hit from the joint. "What kind of things do you like to watch?"

"Sports, mostly. I could get into a thriller every now and then. I'm more of a music person, honestly. I don't watch a lot of movies or TV."

"Hm," you hum. "You'll have to show me what kind of music you listen to someday."

"Yeah," Jay replies with his eyelids focusing on your pretty lips. "You should come over when I'm not stoned out of my mind so I could show you my records. I feel like a limp noodle right now."

"I'd really like that. I have a few vinyls but I don't have a record player. I should bring some over."

"I'll bet you have great taste in music."

"Duh," you say playfully, smoking from the joint. "We don't have to watch Castlevania if you aren't into it. I'm sure I can find something else."

Jay shakes his head. "I'd love to see what kind of things you're into." You turn towards him and cock your head to the side.

"Yeah?" Jay nods and you smile at him like you're amused. Maybe the marijuana is making him lost his mind more than it usually does. In actuality, this is how Jay feels when he's with you, stoned or sober.

It's really hard to focus on the screen in front of him when you're sitting so close. It started at a respectable distance with his arm resting by his sides. The last thing Jay wants to do is make you uncomfortable in any way, especially because he knows you're high. It's the first time you're hanging out at his place without a bunch of other people here too. The two of you are alone with nothing but the sound of Castlevania echoing in his living room and the lingering scent of marijuana in the air despite an opened window and the fan above.

Halfway through the episode, you make a comment about how cold it's gotten since you first arrived and Jay's quick to get on his feet and retrieve a spare blanket from his room. He drapes it over you like you're something precious he wants to tuck into bed, which makes you laugh, and Jay swears he could listen to you make that sound every day without getting tired of it. Just as he's about to sit down, you open the blanket and tell him it's big enough to share, and Jay's smart enough not to tell you he's actually overheating like a furnace because his body runs warm. He'd gladly let trickles of sweat collect on his forehead if that means getting to be next to you without a barrier holding him back.

It's difficult to pretend he hasn't been half-hard ever since he watched you take your first puff. Jay was somewhat grateful that you got cold enough for him to throw a blanket over you and even more grateful that you insisted on sharing it with him. You must be doing this on purpose, right? Or is this all in Jay's mind?

It doesn't really matter. Not when you're sliding to the floor, kneeling in front of him.

Jay almost feels sorry for you. Your favorite show is playing but your back is turned to it in favor of staring at the tent that's forming in his pants. These cursed grey sweats. Yeah, maybe he chose to wear them because he knows girls go crazy for dick prints. His mind wandered to the night you bounced yourself on his clothed lap until you came and didn't seem to mind that he was rutting himself against your covered pussy. Driving home was pure torture for him but he didn't want to overstay his welcome, especially with your roommate coming home.

So, yeah. Sue him. Jay isn't so naive to think you wouldn't have paid any attention to him with these particular pair of sweatpants on. In fact, you seem to look at him like you're hungry, barely paying attention to the way he's staring down at you like he's nervous for what you'll say or do.

You catch him off guard when you nuzzle yourself straight into his lap. He nearly jumps at the contact of your nose against his dick, feeling the way you drag it up before using your lips to feel him beneath the sweats. You're slow with your movements, kissing your way from his base to the tip, feeling the way he twitches against your touch. He's caught halfway, somewhere between embarrassed and shameless as he watches you push your face right into his lap. Jay's imagined what you giving him a blowjob more times that he can count and he's had so many wet dreams of you jerking him off with your hands instead of his own. But he never quite pictured you to be the kind of girl who truly savors her time. Maybe it's because you're both high or maybe, just maybe, you like him, but Jay can hardly believe you're pushing your face into his cock without taking his pants off.

He's starting to think you're way freakier than he could've ever imagined. It's making him horny.

Eventually, your fingers hook on the band of his pants. Jay gets the hint and lifts himself off of the couch just enough for you to completely pull the fabric off of him, letting them pool to his ankles before helping him step out of them completely. He doesn't know what you do with them as he's far too excited, if that isn't completely evident by the way his dick starts to stand at attention. He's on his way to being the hardest he's ever been, he thinks. You eye him like you're hungry and you might as well be drooling because you're licking your lips at the sight of his flushed tip.

Jay doesn't know what to expect. It's been a while since he's been this turned on and watching you arch your back and pucker your lips just to press the softest kiss to his tip makes his entire body shiver. He's masturbated while high a million times before and knows what kinds of things make him tick and reach his orgasmic peak quickly. It's different with other people, though, and much different with you.

You've managed to catch Jay by surprise in more ways than one. He's confident when it comes to his music and walking through life without thinking everybody who remotely looks in his general direction has it out for him, but when it comes to girls, he doesn't think he's as experienced as Jake. Yes, he's had sex and short flings before, but they've never held any merit to what he wants in life. Jay doesn't see the use in wasting his time having mediocre hookups or entertaining people because they clearly think he's the hot loner who looks sexy when he's high (which was the case of his last hookup and the reason why he swore off of sleeping with random girls he meets at parties Jake forces him to go to).

You seem to be the complete opposite of anyone he's ever met before. You're like him in some ways—paying no mind to outside opinion. Even prior to meeting you, he's seen the way you carry yourself when you walk and how you treat people like they're a close friend even if you've just met them. He felt that way the night he properly met you for the first time and it caught him by surprise when you admitted to being serious about wanting him to text you. In a way, it's almost like you're pursuing him, even though you aren't. All you're doing is asking him to hang out and he's saying yes like a puppy who follows its owner wherever she goes. In fact, Jay wants you more than you could ever imagine. It's just that, well, you're very fucking beautiful and he's afraid he'll mess it up if you found out how often he imagines you laying in his bed stuffed full with his semen.

That, and he's scared of what you'll think if he ever admits that he'd like to take you out for breakfast after he fucks you.

"You're bigger than I thought," you say in a near whisper. Jay twitches at that and you let out a breathy laugh. It hits his skin and he tilts his head back as it teases him.

"You can't just say things like that," says Jay, looking back down at you. "You're going to kill me someday."

"Death by orgasm. Doesn't sound too bad."

"You don't know how good you look right now."

"Oh, I think I do," you say confidently, pushing your head forward to lick his slit, to which he hisses. "I know I look good sucking dick, Jay. I'm really good at it too. Do you want to see what I can do?"

"You're an evil person," he says without thinking. But you laugh like you enjoy seeing him in such agony, knowing your warm and wet mouth is almost where he needs you the most.

"Give me the joint." Jay hands it to you, watches as you inhale some of it, and feels his eyes nearly roll to the back of his head when you exhale right on his cock.

Your mouth follows soon after. Without using your hands, you dip your head until your mouth catches his tip to envelope it into your mouth, letting his velvety texture become familiar with your tongue. You're intentional with your movements as if you're really trying to savor the feeling of his hardening dick as you push him inside little by little. Because the apartment is empty, Jay can be a little louder with his moans than usually. When he knows Jake's home, Jay shoves a pillow over his face to drown the sound of his deep, breathy moans to avoid an awkward encounter with his best friend once he's finished. He should be embarrassed that he's already making all kinds of sounds the more you get his dick wet, but he doesn't care. Not when this feels so fucking divine.

Curse your shorts. When he looks down and past your mouth on his dick, he looks at your plush ass as you arch your back to fully grasp him. Jay wishes he could reach down and take that stupid fabric off of your body and he supposes he could if he really wanted to, but the tone you've set is far more sensual than how he'd like to have you. He isn't picky, though. He'd rather endure your slow, sensual torture than scare you off by putting his dick inside of you right off the bat.

Your tight mouth takes him inch by inch at a snail's pace, but there more be a method to your madness because you make him wetter with each push and pull of your head. You periodically remove yourself from him to smoke from the joint before the leaf completely burns until you become tired of not being able to use your hands. Jay takes it from you and inhales a long, satisfying puff. It settles into the depths of his lungs and when your free hand cups his balls, his head tilts back and the smoke rises as he blows it out.

You're the devil reincarnate. Or you're a demon who's wickedly good with her tongue. Maybe you're some kind of angel whose sole purpose is making him come. Jay doesn't really know what you are, but he knows you know exactly what you're doing with his mouth. He doesn't want to think about how many people have experienced this side of you before because he'd rather pretend he's the only person you've ever treated like this.

The high is pure ecstasy. Jay looks down to see your beautiful mouth wrapped up in his cock, head pushing yourself down on his long, girthy dick until your mouth stretches around it. He loves that you aren't neglecting his sack either, rolling them between your fingers until it makes his toes curl. You hum in pleasure when he moans after your index finger traces the seam, making something shoot up his spine when you do. His thighs flex underneath your touch and he sees himself glistening with how much drool is coming from your lips. It makes the glide easier and he feels the way your throat constricts around him every time you push yourself further down.

The sight of his dick completely disappearing inside of your throat is fucking sinful. You push your nose against his pelvis until your choking around him and the gagging sound makes his balls tense up. Jay tries not to drop the joint and considers finding a nearby ash tray to put it out just to avoid accidentally dropping it onto the couch or, God forbid, you. Spit completely falls from the corners of your mouth but you don't give up either. He groans loudly and uses his free hand to stroke your head as if he's using you as an anchor.

"Oh my God," Jay moans. "Your mouth is so fucking tight. Fuck, you like to deep throat?"

You pull yourself off of him, not bothering to wipe any of the drool from your mouth. He watches the way the spit connects from his tip to your tongue before you break the chain to stroke him some more and it nearly puts him into a coma.

"I can do a lot more than that," you tell him. It's like you're trying to remain playful while simultaneously wanting to show him just what you can do. And fuck, Jay's more than willing to let you do whatever you want to him.

"Oh yeah?" Jay asks coyly. "What else can that mouth of yours do?"

You don't answer him with words. Instead, you lift his cock with your hands and bow your head until you're spitting leftover drool from deep throating him right onto his balls. He hisses when the warmth hits his most sensitive area and his next moan comes somewhere from deep within him. The surface of your tongue licks it up until you're lapping at him like a kitten drinking milk. He feels the pass of your wet muscle over and over again while your hand has started to move in tandem with your mouth, stroking him while you work on his balls.

He doesn't think he's ever experienced a girl pleasing him like this. Jay's has blowjobs in the past, but it always felt like the girls he'd sleep with viewed blowjobs like it was a chore to thank him for going down on them first. With you, Jay gets the sense that you like giving blowjobs and playing with his dick because it turns you on, not because you think it turns him on. God, he's so attracted to the fact that you don't really care about anyone but yourself. That's not completely true, and he knows it, but your ability to chase after what you want without caring what other people thinks turns him on more than seeing you sucking him off (which is a lie, Jay is so fucking horny).

"Holy shit," Jay curses under his breath. He shoves the tip of the joint in his mouth and savors the feeling of that initial inhale. He groans when the smoke leaves his mouth. "You're so fucking good at this. Treating my dick so well. Fuck."

You moan against his balls, rewarding him by pushing against him even harder and squeezing his cock at the same time. Your hand is so wet and the sound that echos the room sound better than Jay could've ever imagined. His own hand doesn't do him justice, not even when he gathers enough spit to pretend his palm is your warmth mouth as he fucks into his fist like his life depends on it.

His moans seem to motivate you to make him come faster because your mouth trails from his wet and swollen sack right back to his cock. Your hand hold him by the base before angling your mouth right over him and pushing his dick past your lips. Unlike before, you aren't slow with it. Instead, your head's moving at a faster rate until he feels the gentle scrape of your teeth along his sensitive veins and the way your tongue moves in a circle every time your reach his hip. He grunts every single time it passes against his slit and feels the pressure building in his balls as if he could finish at any moment, but he tries his best to keep going steady because he wants to draw this out for as long as humanly possible.

It's beautiful how your throat accommodates his cock. With your mouth completely stuffed the more you push your head down onto his exceptionally hard dick, you choke and gag without stopping. Jay feels fucking invincible right now.

"What a good mouth," he moans, legs widening as he slouches from how good you're making him feel. "You feel so fucking good around me. Your mouth is so tight and wet, fuckkk. Squeeze my balls too—yes, just like that. Shit, you're gonna make me cum soon. I'm so fucking close."

You moan around him and renders Jay completely fucking useless because of how good that vibration feels. He bucks his hips until the tip hits the back of your throat involuntarily but you don't stop your ministrations. You keep your fast pace as you squeeze his sack in your hands, letting the drool coat them as you push him closer to his climax. He thinks about cumming straight down your throat but thinks that might be a little too much for the first time you're blowing him. Would finishing on your face be more appropriate? Every single open seems more lewd than the next, but he can't deny that he'd like to see what you look like with his semen splashed all over your pretty cheeks and lips.

"I wanna cum on your face," he moans, fighting the urge to fuck your throat like he'd fuck your pussy. "I want to drown you in my cum."

You pull off from his mouth and use both of your hands to jerk him off with his tip angled right at your beautiful face. "Cum for me. Make a mess on my face."

"Fuck, you'd let me?" You nod rapidly.

"Cum on my fucking face, Jay. I want it so bad."

You don't have to tell him twice. When he feels his balls twitch for the last time, Jay's cum shoots from his slip and hits your cheek first. His semen splashes everywhere—your lips and across your nose—as he moans, holding tightly onto the joint to prevent it from falling. It's a wonder he's able to preserve it as he comes, his hips jerking as a consequence to the intense high as he climaxes all of your face. You take it like a fucking champ, too, smiling with your eyes closed as you feel his warm come seep right onto your face. You truly are a freak if you love this feeling. You're even laughing. Jay's never seen anything hotter in his entire life.

"Fuck me," he curses as his cock softens. He takes a short drag from the joint and stares at the beautiful mess on your face, nearly choking on it when he sees your tongue dart out of your mouth to lick the cum that has landed on the corners of your mouth. "You're a fucking fein. A fein for my cum, or something." You laugh again, scooping what's on your cheek with your fingers before sucking on them. "Yeah, you really know how to make a guy feel good. Stay right there. Let me clean you up."

Jay feels terrible and leaving you in his living room on your knees with his come all over your face, but he'd rather soak a wash cloth in warm water than let it dry all over you. He comes back quickly after having cleaned himself up in a haste and gentle swipes the fabric until you're clean.

"I have face wash if you want to use it," Jay says as he wipes the corner of your eye. "I don't want my come staining your gorgeous face."

"You're so thoughtful, Jay," you reply. The sincerity in your voice is a complete turnaround from your lewd acts just a few minutes prior. It makes something swell within his soul because he's suddenly picturing his future looking like this domestic, wonderful bliss with moments of eroticism.

You take him up on his offer and make a comment about how this expensive the face wash is. Jay's mom got him an entire line of skincare for Christmas and he's a bit reluctant to admit that his skin looks so much better now that's he's actively taking care of it. You reassure him, letting him know that there's nothing hotting than people being self sufficient and caring for themselves before swiping the face wash all over your face. It takes you a good minute to completely rid yourself of his come. Jay leans against the door frame with his hands crossed over his chest, smiling like an idiot at how domestic this all feels.

Call him crazy, but Jay's the type of person to fall fast. He's learned lessons the hard way, which typically entails falling for people who don't feel the same way about him, but spending time with you makes him think otherwise. Jay realizes you enjoy getting to know him too and you never silence him when he apologizes for talking so much. There's an equal balance of talking and listening on both ends, something Jay wishes he could achieve with every person he meets. He hates getting his hopes up just for things to fall through. It doesn't matter if it's a friendship or a relationship because it's mostly the same to him. He hates people who aren't honest and deceptive. College is the time to experiment and figure out who you are, sure, but Jay has always known that he's the kind of guy who values loyalty and transparency above all else.

Despite his best efforts, Jay manages to fall for you every time he holds himself back. Vulnerability is a hard thing to come by and he's more scared of being honest about himself than he lets on. It's scary to open his heart and share parts of himself to people who aren't guaranteed to stay forever. That's part of life, but it gets to a point where being vulnerable means getting his heart stomped all over in the name of having "fun." But it's not fun for Jay and he's as honest as they come. He'd rather be alone for the rest of his life than entertain people who don't have his best interest in mind, especially when they tell him they care about him but don't mean it.

Perhaps his general nonchalance about what other people are doing intimidates those who have deep seeded insecurities that can only be fixed by pretending to be someone they aren't. Jay has this crazy theory that probably isn't true aside to feed his own ego, but his friends have said he's a mirror. He reflects every beautiful and ugly trait right back to others, forcing people to confront who they are in the midst of standing right next to Jay, who accepts himself for who he is, faults and all. He's learned that people don't typically like it when they're reminding of things they'd rather forget. Jay is as open as they come, willing to experience things for a good story to look back on or learn from past mistakes. Learning how other people aren't as keen on growing into a better version of themselves made the world look absolutely bleak and meeting new people makes Jay weary from the get go.

Despite his brain telling him to be extra cautious, he can't help but give all of himself to you. Every conversation pulls him deeper into dangerous territory but for the first time in a while, Jay isn't so scared of the unknown. Even if, God forbid, this ends in heartbreak, Jay doesn't think he'll crumble into a hollow version of himself. He'd be sad, but he'd be content knowing he gave it a shot. The act of trying is better than being held back by fear.

The two of you smoke some more and restart the first episode at Jay's request and when his hand inches towards your lap to return the favor, you intertwine your fingers with his and kiss him on the lips. We've got all the time in the world, but I really want you to watch this first. You can eat my out afterwards, you say, smiling against his mouth before kissing him again. How could Jay say no to that? Besides, his brain is short-circuiting after receiving the most mind bending blowjob he's ever had in his life. A guy needs to recover from such an experience. The fact that you, someone who refrains from physical touch, is actively clinging onto his arm and cuddling against his side is far better than anything he could've ever hoped for.

He becomes engrossed in Castlevania and the two of you end up watching another episode. Jay glances down at you every once in a while and can't help but play with your fingers the more he watches the television. All of this feels so incredibly domestic and Jay has to force himself to stop smiling because he thinks you'll view him like a lovesick idiot. Maybe he is.

✧･ﾟ─────────── ✧･

"Do you want me to pick you guys up?" Jay asks on speakerphone as he fixes his hair with a little bit of styling gel.

"No, we're gonna split an Uber. No use coming when I'll see you anyway."

"You know I don't mind," he says casually.

"I know, baby. That's real sweet of you, but don't worry about it."

"You could spend the night and I can drive you back tomorrow morning, if you want. So you don't have to spend more money."

"Oh, Jongseong, do you want me to spend the night?"

"Of course I do," he says with a smile on his face as he hears you laugh. "I always want to spend time with you."

"You…Are such a little shit. Don't make me blush on the phone."

"Let me pick you up so I can make you blush in person."

"You two are disgustingly cute," your friend says from beside you. "Like, I've never seen her act so cutesy before."

"She's so cute when she's trying to be tough."

"That's true," says your friend. "But remember, she was mine first, okay?"

"Of course," Jay replies, "I'd never get in the way."

"Good! We'll be at your place in thirty."

"See you soon, Jay," you tell him before hanging up the phone.

You come in wearing the most gorgeous dress with golden accents all over your body. Jay can hear you before he sees you because your bracelets smack against one another every time you move and he thinks that's the sexiest thing a woman could ever do. Unlike the first time he met you, he isn't afraid to pull you by the waist and join your little parade as you walk around to greet every person you know, taking shot after shot along with the joint Jay's passing around to anyone who asks.

When you finally register Jay's presence beside you, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to see the way you're eyeing him like a piece of meat. His biceps are on display along with a nasty stack of rings that make him look like walking sin. There's something about Jay tonight that makes him look extra delectable and you're looking at him like you'd pounce if there weren't so many people around. You almost parade him around like he's arm candy or another accessory for your outfit. Even Jake, who usually has to force Jay to put a little effort into coming out of his bedroom, nods in approval.

You only leave his side for ten minutes when a girl you know is asking you to help her redo her eyeliner in the bathroom, apologizing to Jay before skipping off to help her. He doesn't mind, though. In fact, he loves that you're eager to help others and make yourself available for people who politely ask for your help. You're considerate and generous like that.

"You guys look cozy," Jake says, bumping his elbow against Jay's forearm. "I can't believe you actually wanted to come out of your room tonight."

"I only come if the company's good," Jay retorts, bringing his cup to his mouth.

"Hey!" The two of them share a laugh. "She's good for you, Jay. You light up every time she walks in the room."

"That's the corniest thing you could've ever said to me."

"It's true though. I know you, man. You need to get to know somebody before you like them and you like her. You'd be crazy not to ask her out officially."

"I was planning out asking her to be my girlfriend on our next date," Jay confesses. "She loves mini golfing and she's extremely casual about a lot of things. Hates fancy dinners and making a big show of things. I wanted to ask her when we get food, or something."

"That doesn't sound super romantic."

"Trust me, it is," Jay says. "She's the kind of person who can appreciate big gestures, but I know she loves it even more when people pick up on the small thing. She hates being the center of attention even if that's where she ends up, so I know she'd appreciate if I asked her casually. I mean, it's not casual, but it's not over-the-top, you know?"

"I totally get it," Jake says with a nod. "What's meaningful to her is more important than looking 'romantic.'"

"Exactly. Don't get me wrong, though. I'll wine and dine her as long as she lets me."

"I'm sure she'd appreciate that."

"But for now, I know she's got a lot on her plate and the last thing she needs is something to stress her out even more. She'd probably say no if I made a whole show of it."

"You're so attentive and I think that's probably why we're friends," Jake says, patting his friend on the shoulder. "You'll be a great boyfriend."

"This is oddly mushy."

"Yeah, it feels weird not to bicker with you." Jay tilts his head back and laughs when he sees you walking out of the bathroom.

"Are you boys up to no good?" You ask, leaning against the wall to look at the both of them.

"Depends what you mean by 'no good,'" Jake teases, raising his eyebrows at Jay before snickering to himself.

"Does he know something I don't?"

"No."

"Yes."

"Okay…" You trail off, squinting your eyes before laughing. "Whatever it is, I don't want to know unless I need to know."

"You're in good hands," Jake says, nodding at you before making an excuse to leave. He winks at Jay when you aren't looking and leaves to find your friend.

"Jake Sim is a weird motherfucker," you say against your cup. "But he's harmless, right?"

"As harmless as they come. I think he likes riling me up."

"We all do."

Jay laughs too. "You look beautiful tonight.

"I look hot, don't I?"

"I'm trying to be respectful here."

You kiss his cheek. "You are such a gentleman, Jongseong. But you don't need to be like that thing me all the time. I think we've crossed that line ages ago."

Well, shit. His cock might as well be stirring in his pants now that you've given him the mental image of all the times he's seen you naked.

"You look hot and I'm going to fuck you when you're ready to leave," he says in a low murmur, his voice steady like it's something he's something he's been thinking about all day. You press a small kiss to his jawline.

"I can't wait."

The two of you could technically make a break for his bedroom, but you're clearly having a lot of fun drinking with your friends and sharing Jay's joint with everyone who wants a hit. Jay, too, is enjoying himself for the first time in a while now that he recognizes some of the party goers. It's easy to have fun when the people he's surrounded with seem to want to talk to him too. You clue him in on inside jokes and he has the time of his life playing bartender, mixing drinks for strangers with the very limited knowledge he has after one summer bartending because he was bored. He's a hit with everyone who wants alcohol and he gets extra bonus points for having a stack of joints readily available in his pocket when the one he smokes runs out. It pays to be a man with marijuana and a lighter.

Jay's newfound role has garnered a lot of attention. From girls specifically, since tonight there seems to be double the amount of people than usual. Jay doesn't really pay much attention since he's too busy peeking at you from the corner of his eye, sending a wink your way with every drink he serves. You, however, have gravitated closer towards the bar station every single time a girl comes up to him to strike up a conversation or worse—touching his arm while trying to play it off as something casual. He'd shrug it off, of course. The only girl he wants is you.

You make haste and appear by his side in record time, handing off drinks like you're being paid to do it. Jay doesn't miss the way you squeeze your way in between himself and a stranger trying to fish for attention. It's kind of hot that you've pushed her away with the touch of your hip, barely intruding while smiling politely like you've done nothing wrong. He would've said something before you got there. It's not like the two of you haven't been draped all over each other all evening, so really, everyone here should know he's off limits.

Jay isn't oblivious to the sudden switch of your mood every time a girl comes up to him.

It's funny to think that a month earlier, girls usually pursued Jake. Jay knows he comes off as this aloof, barely-there kind of guy, like someone too intimidating to pay attention to for the fear of failing. He's the embodiment of the classic rock star: wickedly good at guitar and an attitude that screams do not fuck with me. Jake is an easygoing, open kind of guy. He'd take any chance to make a new friend. It's part of him charm, but it's not one he shares with Jay.

You're a very sweet person. Blunt? Yes, but you always say it like it is and don't coddle people to make them feel better when there's no use. Jay loves that about you. He doesn't have to guess where your head is at or question your intentions because you're upfront and honest. He can count on you to tell him the truth, which is a skill most people lack. It's refreshing to meet somebody who can put her heart on the line while maintaining integrity. People tend to say one thing but disregard it's meaning until it becomes something new entirely, but not you. You're Jay's safe space whether you realize it or not.

This new emotion—jealousy?—is something new for Jay to see in you. You both have breached the threshold of being touchy the first time you dry humped in your bedroom. You've been much bolder now, but it's only escalated to grabbing his hand and letting him hold yours. There's an unspoken line that has yet to be crossed, never mind the fact that you gave him the best head of his life not too long ago.

But tonight, you're clinging onto his arm like a koala and pressing your body against his side. It's because you're wearing a tank top, you muttered in disgust as you watched yet another girl cower away underneath your gaze. They're looking at your fucking biceps. And you're letting them.

Jay is thoroughly amused. You have an edge to you, even if this is a side you don't show anybody else. From the beginning, he got the sense that you were the type of person to keep vulnerability at arm's length. But the way you're acting tonight tells him you're jealous. You, the independent and secure girl he's crushing on, feel protective of Jay and his body. Entitled, even. But it's so fucking sexy to be desired by you. It boosts his ego, sure. He's a man who thinks with his cock sometimes and you're no exception. Mostly, Jay's turned on by how much you desire him too. It isn't the attention. It's you.

He wouldn't stoop so low to exploit that. Jay would've told these girls to fuck off if you hadn't said it on his behalf. It's kind of cute, honestly. You resemble a baby lion trying to roar for the first time. To these other girls, you bark like a guard dog. He doesn't even think you know how intimidating you look when girls lower their gaze to the floor and back away from the two of you cautiously. Serves them right, honestly. Can't they see that he clearly isn't interested?

"Freaks," you mutter under your breath. "They're all freaks for coming up to you when I'm right here."

"I probably should've worn a different shirt." You shake your head, hands running from his bare shoulders down to his bicep. You give him a squeeze and he feels the tips of your nails digging into his skin.

"You look really fucking good, Jay," you all but moan.

"Did those girls bother you, baby?" Jay asks, turning to face you. He sets his drink down on the counter and cages you in between his hands.

"They should know better than to talk to you," you say without stuttering, your lips barely touching his own. "I hate that they had the audacity to think they have a chance when I'm the one you want."

"You're the one I want," Jay whispers against your lips, stealing a soft peck. The innocent sound of lip smacking makes his cock ache and he can't help but pull you closer to try and relieve even an ounce of friction.

"These freaks can go fuck themselves." God, you found so sexy when you're jealous.

"You know what I think?"

"What do you think, Jay?"

"I think that we should ditch this party and go back to my room," he says, caressing your covered ass. "We can light a joint and smoke a little. Get away from the crowd. How does that sound?"

Your eyes dart from his lips to his eyes. "Take me to your bedroom, Jay."

He's grabbing your hand without another word and hauling you off upstairs. Jake sees the two of you pass him by and gives his friend and encouraging two thumbs up, to which Jay can't help but roll his eyes but he laughs anyway. The noise from the party subsides but a little bit, but he can hear the music and the murmur of the crowd even with the door closed.

There you are, looking like absolutely devious in your short and tight dress all up in his bedroom. You've been up here a few times and take perch on his bed like you always do when Jay walks towards his nightstand and opens his drawer to pull out marijuana and rolling paper.

"I was going to do this on our mini golfing date," Jay says, busying his hands with preparing another joint. He hears you move across the bed after having kicked off your heels, knees padding until he feels you right behind him. It calms his nerves to feel your arms wrap themselves around his shoulders, mouth pressing against his ear as you little his skin in soft little kisses.

"What were you going to do?"

"Ask you out. Properly, I mean."

"Are we not already going out?"

He stills, dropping the materials from his hands to turn around and face you. God, you look so gorgeous like this. By now, he's already learned that the black makeup around your eyes make you look like a sexy feline and the scent of your almond and cherry perfume make his senses go crazy. Jay would be absolutely crazy to think you'd stick around forever if he never communicated his feelings to you. With his hands now free, Jay pulls you close by your waist.

"I wanted to ask you to be my girlfriend on our mini golfing date," he admits. "I know you're not into big gestures because it puts you on the spot and I know you hate being put on the spot. I wanted to do is casually. Maybe after the last round or whenever we left to get food. I don't want to make you feel like being with me is just sex or getting high. Or anything other than dating, really. I like you a lot. I think I have since the night we met and I don't want you to think I'm interested in other girls because I'm not. I want you."

For as much as Jay thinks he knows you, his heart pounds in his chest like a beating drum that refuses to stop. Part of being vulnerable and putting himself on the line means being honest about his feelings and to his delight, a beautiful smile graces your lips until you're leaning forward to put your mouth on his. It's a soft, simple kiss that makes his head spin and you pull away with his lovesick glint in your eyes he's never seen before.

"I'm not the best with affection but it's different when it's with you, Jay." Your arms come to wrap themselves around his neck, pulling his face impossibly close to yours. "Being with you feels right. Like I never saw you coming, you know?"

"I know," he murmurs, softly pecking your lips. "I'll make up for this shitty confession, I promise. Be my girlfriend?"

"You're so stupid, but I think you're really cute," you whisper with a smile you can't seem to contain before kissing him again. "You were right by assuming I'd want you to ask in the most casual way."

Jay lets out a strained sound from his throat. "Yeah, but a bunch of girls tried it with you tonight and basically ruined my entire plan."

"Mm okay, I'm still mad those girls clearly couldn't see we're together. But I think being honest is more important than how you ask, you know?"

"You are a fucking dream, baby," Jay says, pushing his lips harder against you until you giggle into him. "It's real cute how you got so jealous."

"I wasn't jealous."

"Territorial, then."

"Mhm," you confirm with a single nod, smiling against him. "People need to know what's mine. That's all."

"Yours?" He asks with an amused grin. "I like the sound of that. I'll be your trophy husband."

"Husband," you say, testing the word on your tongue. "Awfully sexy of you to imagine me as your wife."

"I've been imagining taking a wedding dress off of you since our first date," he confesses without shame. "I don't mind being your trophy husband."

What starts off as an innocent kiss turns into something erotic quickly with your back resting comfortably on Jay's mattress while his body's on top of yours, reminiscent of the time he first saw your apartment. The kiss grows hungrier with every moment that passes by and the inebriated haze has slightly worn off because of the stone cold, sober truth of Jay's confession. He doesn't spare you another pass at being a gentleman because he's learned that you trust enough to allow him to take whatever wants. Jay knows you'll tell him to stop if it comes to it. And in turn, he's learned that it's okay to desire someone so much that he loses control.

Jay pulls away to catch his breath and the whine that escapes your lips makes his cock jump in his pants. He laughs at your neediness and laughs again at your immediate silence when you realize he's grabbing the marijuana to roll a joint for you.

"I wanna roll one on your body," Jay says, eyelids growing heavy the more he visualizes it.

"Fuck," you moan. "I think that's the hottest thing you've ever said to me."

"Can you take your clothes off for me, baby? I want to see that gorgeous body of yours."

The music thumping from downstairs serves as the soundtrack for tonight. You make haste and get off of the bed as Jay sits on the edge with his legs open as you face him. Jay's dick hardens during his own personal strip tease and he watches the way your soft hands run all over your body like you're the devil trying to seduce him. Your fingers catch underneath the hem of your short dress but you don't take it off like he thinks you will. No, instead you reach underneath to pull off your black thong until you pull it down your legs at an agonizingly slow pace before tossing it in his lap.

What's a guy to do? Jay grabs your panties and hears that melodic laugh of yours he loves so much. He squeezes it in his hand—is that a wet patch?—while the other palms himself through his pants the more you twirl around for him, making a show out of jutting your ass out the more you sway your hips to the muffled bass from outside. When you do finally take your dress off, Jay intently watches the way you slowly expose yourself to him. His eyes rake over the first peek at your bare pussy, your torso, your tits, and finally your face as you toss the dress somewhere behind you.

"Come here," he beckons, throwing your panties to the side when you take a step closer to him. He makes room for you in between his legs, using his hands to spread your own apart until he has a view of you from the front. Jay lifts his finger to run a single digit over your folds and relishes in the way you moan from above. "Have you been wet this entire time?"

"I've been wet since our phone call."

"My poor baby," he tuts, letting his finger slowly glide against your wet lips, occasionally grazing over your clit. Jay doesn't want to miss a single thing and looks at the way you struggle to maintain eye contact with him. It's so cute and hot at the same time. He lifts his finger to show you the wet glisten before licking it clean, groaning at the first taste. "Delicious as always."

"Fuck," comes your whine. Jay feels you trembling between him.

"Come lay on the bed for me. I want your ass facing me so I can use it as a table, yeah?"

You make haste and Jay hums in satisfaction, standing to grab his materials before making his way over to you. He feels the way your eyes watch him and looks at the way you're laying comfortably on his mattress, arms tucked underneath your head like you're in some kind of blissful state of mind. You look delectable like this. Jay has half a mind to pull his cock out and push it inside of you right now since you're wet enough, but he holds himself back because in his opinion, there's nothing better that drawing out orgasm after orgasm while high.

He doesn't immediately put the paper and marijuana on your body. He lets curiosity get the better of him and allows his fingertips to drag along your upper back, tracing an invisible line down the curve of your spine before he reaches your ass. You part your legs instinctively and Jay mutters a quiet good girl that makes you clench against absolutely nothing. It's so hot. He bends down and presses a kiss to your slit and licks your arousal right off of his lips before pulling back to grab his materials, letting them rest on your back as he gets to work.

You crane your neck to watch as he focuses on rolling the joint without spilling. Jay's done this a million times, but he's never had the pleasure of fixing one on the prettiest girl he knows. It's clean and quick. He's managed not to spill any of the marijuana as he grinds it, expertly placed the leaf inside of the rolling paper, then uses his fingers to push it into place until it's snug. Jay folds the tip of the joint before pushing the excess paper down and presents you the most gorgeous, fat joint you've ever seen in your entire life.

"You can do whatever you want to me," you blurt out.

"Whatever I want?"

"If you fuck me within the next minute, yes." Jay laughs and grabs his lighter, holding it up to the end of the joint until it lights up. He takes the first hit to ensure the joint burns properly before passing it along to you, happily watching as you eagerly inhale.

"I'll fuck you real good," he promises, taking his shirt and pants off the longer you smoke. "I want to do it my way. I want you to feel that aching burn between your legs until you can't think of anything but cumming on my cock. I want you needy and desperate for me."

He takes his clothes off and feels his dick throbbing when he watches you smoke on his bed. It's a sight right out of a wet dream and he's probably thought about this exact moment a million times over, using this exact fantasy to get himself off more times than he can count. You've maneuvered onto your back and Jay marvels at your gorgeous tits when you bring the joint back up to your lips. He puts both of his knees on the bed and knocks your legs open to put his body right where it belongs, stealing the joint from your hands before smoking it again. Your mouth welcomes his exhale when he leans above you. Like clockwork, the smoke travels from his mouth right into yours and Jay feels your chest arch right against him just as your lips touch. He's careful not to drop the weed as he watches the way your eyes become more red by the second. Jay's positive his eyes look exactly the same.

"I'm gonna eat you real good," he mumbles as he drags his mouth along the column of your neck, trailing wet kisses down your skin.

The cool drag causes goosebumps to arise, making you gasp right into the open air. Jay takes his time, stealing another smoke when he makes his way to your chest and he makes a pit stop, handing you the joint before using both of his hands to cup your tits. They spill over just the way he's always pictured and he brushes his thumbs against your perky, sensitive nipples. Jay marvels at the sight the more he toys with them. He becomes entranced from the high, zeroing in on the way your tits move and spill from his fingertips. Jay pinches your nipples and relishes in the way you gasp at his touch, which makes him laugh and lean down to lick one of them.

"Perfect tits, perfect body," Jay moans, attaching his mouth to your hardened bud. His tongue rolls right over it as he makes himself comfortable between your legs, his own body relaxing with his cock sandwiched between his torso and his mattress. The sound of his lips sucking on your nipple and his hands squeezing on your chest like they're his own personal stress toys makes you moan in deep pleasure, letting the high consume you like never before.

He moves onto the neglected bud with his eyes closed, moaning around your most sensitive area. He loves how responsive you are with your quiet moans and your chest pushing against his face. Jay's mind is in a haze the longer he has his mouth on you, dick swelling with every breath he takes like his life's purpose is to kiss every inch of your skin.

Jay doesn't stick around your tits for very long, especially not with the way you're accommodating his body by spreading your legs open for him. He kisses down the valley of your breasts and reluctantly lets go of your chest to venture down your torso, dragging his lips and leaving messy wet kisses in his wake. He grabs the joint from your hands and inhales before tapping it hard against his ash tray to kill it before gripping your thighs and blowing the smoke right against your wet hole.

The sound you make is indescribable. It's somewhere between primal and desperate, especially when the forced air makes contact with your wet lips. Jay watches the way your hole twitches in anticipation and sees the way your hands grab onto your chest for stability from the corner of his eye. Your arousal drips from you like a waterfall and he hastily licks a strip up your slit. When he reaches your clit, he lets the surface drag slowly with the kind of pressure that makes your legs shake in their place, allowing his tip to flick over the sensitive bud. Jay witnesses you throwing your head back like you're starring in your very own pornography film and the view of from below makes you look like walking sex.

Jay descends with his tongue lapping at your eager pussy. He tastes every crevice and fold you hide while gripping onto your thighs to keep your legs open for him. He feels your resistance and laughs against you like this whole affair is for his entertainment only. But really, knowing he could get you to fall apart on him like this is the cherry on top. You're the most put together person he knows. Watching you lose your mind on his tongue feels like his greatest accomplishment.

"I love watching you fall apart," Jay moans against you, pushing his tongue inside of you. He hears you cry out his name and grip his hair as you tug in response to the sudden intrusion, keeping his tongue stretched out to thrust it in and out of your wet hole. It's a tight fit and he can only image what it would feel like to slide his engorged cock inside of you.

Your arousal slips and falls from the corner of his mouth along with his spit when Jay starts to grind his dick against the bedsheets. Your hips start to roll against his tongue like you're chasing your own high too. It's so hard for you to keep still and for your legs to remain on the bed, that much Jay can tell for sure. You're writhing underneath his touch despite his best efforts to keep you in place, but his pride swells with every cry and moan. Jay pushes his mouth harder against you, sucking and slurping on your folds like he's trying to eat you alive. He doesn't care if spit dribbles down his chin nor does he particularly care about keeping this ordeal clean and tidy. Unlike rolling a joint, Jay wants sex with you to be messy. He wants the nasty, filthy, horny affair to feel raw.

The high makes his skin buzz and his body feels like it's at an all time high. It feels so good to rub his bare dick against the bed, listing to the loud moans escaping from your mouth. Never mind the fact that his room isn't technically sound proof, but the music is going a great job at drowning out the sounds from his bedroom. Not that Jay would mind, of course. He doesn't think you'd care either. In fact, you'd be happy knowing other girls could hear the way Jay's making you feel.

"Fuck Jay, your tongue feels so good. How did you learn to eat pussy like this?"

He chuckles, dragging his tongue to kitten lick your clit. "You like it when I have my mouth on you?"

"Yes—fuck!"

"Mm yeah, love it when you make that sound," Jay says after he spits directly on your clit. He lets his digits trace your folds, dipping the tip of his pointer finger tip into your hole. You tense up against him but he tuts, shaking his head. "I won't have that. Open up for me, baby. Relax and let me feel you."

"S-So sensitive," you mutter.

"Already? How are you gonna take my cock?" Jay mocks, pushing his finger inside of you until you adjust around him. He can feel your pussy squeezing around him already. "I need to make sure you get a taste of what's to come. Need to watch you fall apart on my mouth and fingers."

"Fuck!"

"Yeahhh. That's right, honey. Make those pretty noises for me." The pet name makes our eyes roll to the back of your head and your grab a fistful of his blankets the faster he pumps his finger inside of you. Jay adds another finger and fucks you faster, relishing in the way you're moaning like your life depends on it. He bends his head down to lick at your clit at the same time and the sensation is overwhelmingly euphoric for the both of you. From here, Jay watches your mouth hang open and your hands clutching his bedsheets like that'll give you stability. It's so hot the way you're falling apart on him.

Your orgasm completely washes over you the longer Jay laps at your clit. He stares at you as best as he can while trying to keep you still before him, but your rolling hips make it difficult for him to focus on helping you feel out your high. He tries, though, removing his fingers from your pussy to grip your thighs so hard that you buck against his face and rut all over him.

"You taste so good," Jay moans when your body finally subsides. He keeps licking the remnants of your orgasm, catching every last drop on his tongue before it gets the chance to escape him.

"I don't think I've ever had anyone eat me out like that," you say, catching your breath. "You're eager."

"Eager for you, yeah."

"So cheesy." Jay watches you hide your face in your arm like you're too shy to admit how much that turns you on. He laughs at your bashful nature and kisses his way up your body, temporarily stopping at your breasts to lick around your nipple and tug at them with his teeth. You reach down to grip his cock in your hands after you've spit directly into your palm, twisting your writ to jerk him off when he removes himself from your chest.

Jay looks down and watches your smaller hand around his girthy, thick cock. He can barely register his reality because of the marijuana and remembers he still has half the joint left. With the flick of his lighter, he's smoking once again and pushes his head back to blow the excess smoke towards his ceiling, moaning when you squeeze him.

His attention resumes on your hand when he feels you press the underside of his cock against your wet slit, watching the way your hips grind against his bare dick. The tip is just shy of breaching your hole every time you grind yourself against the head and Jay bucks his own hips in response. He gets a preview like this, watching exactly how far he'll disappear inside of you. It makes him crazy to see you like this, too. Pre-cum leaks from his slit the drips down your onto your pussy to make an ever wetter mess, the sound of the splash ringing in his ears the more the two of you grind against each other. He passes the joint to you and you eagerly accept, inhaling a long puff and expertly holding it in before exhaling.

You nearly drop it when Jay angles his dick to press the entirety of his cock into you. He catches you by surprise as he's able to grab it from your fingers before it falls onto the bed. The stretch is already unimaginable and he takes his sweet time pushing himself into you, allowing his gaze to fall where the two of you connect. Jay witnesses as your tight, velvety walls make room for his thickness and you're taking him like the champion he knows you to be. Jay drags his cock out and thrusts shallowly to let you get comfortable with his impressive size. His eyes roam across your body until they land on your plush lips and he bends down to steal a kiss while keeping the joint steady in his hands.

You eagerly kiss him back as if his mouth distracts you from the initial pain of his dick. Jay keeps fucking into you little by little, letting the sound of your shared arousal echo within the room. "You hear that? Baby. That's all you. You made us this wet." You tense around him and clench at his words, lips chasing his own in a messy kiss the more he pushes himself inside of you. "Your pussy's been aching for me, hasn't she? All the times we've fooled around prepared you for this, honey. Feel my cock. Feel it go in and out."

"It feels so good."

"I know it does," he says, kissing the corner of your mouth. "Feels so good when you're high, doesn't it?"

"Yes," you moan. "I'm so fucking horny, Jay."

"I know you are, baby. You're so wet."

He kills the joint for the last time before tossing it on the ashtray to focus on you. The last push of his cock feels like pure heaven as his balls hit your ass cheeks the second he bottoms out, and his tip hits the deepest part of you. Maybe it's the high or maybe it's because sex with you is no longer a mere fantasy, but Jay can feel every movement from your twitching hips to the way you're constantly clenching around his dick.

Fucking you is insanely different than fucking his hand at the thought of you. Your walls enclose around him like a vice meant to keep him addicted to you forever. Every single drag and thrust of his hips makes Jay lose his fucking mind because his dream girl is underneath him with her legs spread wide open for him to fuck. Jay collapses right on top of you the second your arms pull him by his neck. He doesn't fight, his body already soaring through his high like he has the ability to fly. The combination of Jay's attraction and the his inebriated state contributes to how his arousal that seems to be never ending.

Your hole is so slippery. How can one person be this wet? Jay thanks whatever god is listening to him the more he ruts himself against your lap like a crazed sex addict. Or, he sure feels that way since you're gripping him with your pussy and your arms, pulling him impossibly close to you like you're trying to become one with him. Jay doesn't mind feeling your sharp nails down his back. He grunts at the mental image of the red lines decorating his skin when he gets the chance to look at himself in the mirror. He'd do anything to see you get off on his cock.

Jay buries his face inside of your neck and lets his warm breath fan over your skin. The entire room smells like weed and sex, two very important things to Jay. He can't remember the last time he was so horny that he thought his dick would fall off the longer he fucks himself into a tight hole, but your wetness paired with your angelic moans continue to push Jay closer and closer to his first orgasm. He's determined to keep himself from coming too quickly, though. He kisses along your neck and doesn't care that he's probably moaning too loudly against your ear.

"Harder," you croak, voice dry from the marijuana and from the constant moaning. "Fuck me harder."

You don't have to tell him twice.

Jay positions your legs on both of his shoulders, admiring the way your tits look. They're big and round and they jiggle every time he moves your body to put you in the exact spot he wants you. The way your nipples move at every slight movements makes Jay kiss the back of his teeth and slot his cock right back into you before he pushes his cock and his chest forward, effectively bending you in half.

His cock reaches a whole new angle the more he's able to push himself down. You cry out a broken moan when his dick pierces a new depth and he silences your cry with a kiss to your lips. Spit falls everywhere the more your mouths mash together, tongues fighting like the two of you are locked in an intense battle. Jay repositions himself until his legs are spread wide, the balls of his feet planted on his mattress before lifting his hips just thrust into you with a newfound strength that makes your eyes squeeze shut.

He drinks up your moans like it's liquor. Jay's abdomen tenses as he holds this position, feeling the burn in his legs the longer he uses his strength to push and pull himself in and out of your body. The drag is delicious. It's so good that he hisses and closes his eyes to focus on the feeling of your wet cunt gripping onto him like you're afraid he'll leave if you aren't tight enough. Sweat has formed along his forehead and your bodies are slippery from the sexual workout, but it adds to the intensity of it all. Jay has never felt enamored with a girl like he is with you and the sheer magnitude of his attraction outweighs any drug he's tried in his lifetime. He'd happily quit smoking marijuana if you asked him too. But lucky for him, you can keep up.

"Tightest pussy in the world," Jay groans, slamming his cock into you and holding your body underneath him until you're pinned between the mattress and his chest. His cock is lodged deep into your pussy with no signs of letting up and the way you squeeze him from the inside out is enough to make Jay feel like he's seeing stars. "Are you always like this? Do you always make people feel so fucking crazy?"

"Just you," you say, barely able to speak from the intensity of the position.

"Just me," he repeats, grunting through his nose. "Only me, baby. Only I can make you feel like this."

"Only you."

"Only I can get you high like this," he grunts, lifting his hips to slam them back down onto you. You cry and it sounds like a fucking hymn. "I want you to cum like this. Can you do that for me, honey? Cum right on my dick."

And you do. It's like a command, almost. He knows you've been holding out and waiting for him, but you deserve to come as many times as you want without asking for his permission. He loves knowing he can get you to feel as free as you do without worrying about other people. It's so sexy that you're as considerate as you are, but as far as Jay's concerned, you could come on his cock a million times over and he wouldn't care about getting off it you were satisfied.

He feels the tension in your body as you focus on your orgasm. Jay moves in tandem with you, letting his cock impale your pussy and pushing past your hole when you clench around him. The tightness squeezes him until his tip is hitting the very spot that makes you scream out his name like it's a prayer, and you come like you've never experienced such an orgasmic high before. He feels you come. Jay savors the way your body arches as you reach your peak and it takes everything in him to stay as still as he is, his abdomen aching and his legs burning from holding this position. But it's worth it to watch the way you fall apart on him completely.

"You're so hot when you cum," Jay mumbles against your lips, letting your legs fall from his shoulders and allowing himself to break from his previous hold. He kisses over your lips to soothe you as he slowly rocks his hard cock in and out of your pussy, using your orgasm as lubricant. "It makes me wanna fuck you within an inch of your life."

"Do it," you taunt, smiling up at him with a fucked out grin that makes Jay think you're a succubus. Your lack of a refractory period is pure insanity. He can barely believe your pussy doesn't ache from his mouth, fingers, and his cock. Or maybe it does but you aren't saying anything. You're taking it like a fucking champ.

"Bend over," he instructs, pulling his cock out to stand while you turn your body over. He strokes himself in the meantime, watching as you spread your legs and arch your back like a feline waiting for its reward. Your pussy is on full display in front of him and he can't resist getting on his knees to shove his face in your lap again.

There is no rhyme or reason to it anymore. Jay has turned into a dirtier, hornier version of himself the more his high climbs up an invisible mountain. His tongue licks over your delicious folds and licks up every drop of your come like it's syrup spilling from a maple tree. Jay makes a complete mess of his face and slurps at your wetness, drinking your sweet nectar like it's the only thing he could ever imagine in his mouth.

He lets go of his cock to grip your ass cheeks and moans straight into your pussy when he ruts his cock against the side of the bed, thrusting every single time he pushes his tongue deeper into your wet hole. You moan before him and push your ass right against his face, making him bury himself deeper into your hole as though he never wants to leave. He doesn't, really. He'd be perfectly happy if he died with your pussy on his tongue.

Jay removes himself from your pussy when he feels himself get closer and closer to the edge. The soft material of his bedsheets would be enough to throw him off the deep end if he isn't careful. He gets back on his feet after licking up a stripe and pushes his tongue up your slit until he licks your wrinkled hole. Your body tenses at the strange sensation but you aren't completely turned off by it. In fact, Jay notices your legs spreading even wider as your back arches deeper like you're in some kind of trance. He takes his chance and spits directly into your tightest hole with a slow drip, listening to a moan that comes deep within your chest the second it hits you. He brings his thumb to gently rub it in, temporarily neglecting your pussy to watch the way you're writhing as he brushes his finger over your asshole. It's incredible how responsive and trusting you are. If he was a worse person, Jay would put the very tip of his cock right against your hole. But he isn't and he figures if you liked it enough to endure his curiosity, you might let him try putting his dick in there one day.

He lines himself with your pussy again, flicking the head across your folds to gather enough slick. Jay lets his tip pass over and over again until you're whining like you'll die without his dick. The desperation in your voice turns him on so much that he feels his balls twitch when you let our a particularly high-pitched noise. It's enough to make him sink back into your pussy, hands gripping your hips for stability. He feels his own legs shaking from the new angle and the sight of your back arching in front of him.

Without a single warning, Jay fucks you. It's the kind of pace that only occurs when he's so horny that he can't think about anything other than finishing himself off. You claw at his bedsheets and manage to grab one of his pillows to hold against your chest. His blunt nails dig themselves right into your meaty flesh as he brings his right hand to smack your right ass cheek. The sting is incredible and he must assume you love this kind of pain because the long, drawn out moan rings in his ears like it's Christmas. He smacks your ass again while he bucks his cock into you like a madman, spanking you over and over again until he feels a bit sorry for the pain he's causing you.

Jay's sack bounces against your puffy clit with every thrust and he's positive you've started whining because you feel another orgasm approaching. He wishes he could hold himself out longer too, but the two of you are higher than a pair of kites in the sky and your incredible moans and tight pussy push him to his limits. He clenches his ass to prolong this feeling, hissing at the intensity of your walls gliding against him every time he drags his cock out of you just to push it back inside your hole.

"One last time," Jay grunts, reaching one hand to toy with your clit and making you moan into his pillow. "Come for me one last time, yeah?"

"C-Come together," you barely manage to say.

"Yeah, baby. Let's come together. Fuck, give it to me and I'll give you my cum too."

Lost in the chase for his own orgasm, Jay's knees nearly lock when he's about to come. He braces himself at the very last second and falls until his cheek hits your upper back, feeling the way you clench around him before finishing for the third time. Jay follows soon after, spilling his seed directly into your hole without ceasing his hips from fucking it back into you. He doesn't care that the mixed cum starts to seep from where you're both connected, nor does he care that it's starting to drip down onto your thighs. He keeps thrusting until he's managed to overcome the peak and ruts into your hole.

When all is said and done, the only thing that registers is his heart beat and your breaths. Jay kisses the back of your neck with such tenderness that it pulls a satisfied moan from your throat. He can't help but laugh and twitch inside of you as his cock grows soft. You eventually push him out with a single clench, feeling the way his dick falls to your thigh as leftover semen seeps from his slit and onto your skin. The room is hot, wet, and far too overwhelming to properly come down from the insanity of tonight.

"You did so good, honey," Jay murmurs against your shoulder, peppering sweet kisses as you close your eyes. "My good girl. My sweet, sweet baby."

"I'm your baby," you whisper in a fucked out bliss.

"That's right." He nods and brings his face to yours, kissing you once before turning your body over to face him. Jay brushes your hair out of your face and cups your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. "Are you okay? You sounded a little dehydrated."

"It was the weed," you say with a quiet giggle. "So worth it, though. But I could go for some water."

In record speed, he's able to clean the both of you up and fetch some water from the kitchen without making too much conversation. He avoids Jake, who looks at him and whistles as he walks back to his bedroom. To his surprise, you're up on your feet and digging through his closet with one of his shirts draped over your body.

"Aren't you beautiful," he says, bringing the water up to your lips. You laugh at the absurdity but drink from his hand anyway.

"I can drink by myself, you know. I'm a big girl."

"Yeah, but I like the idea of taking care of you."

"Are you still high?"

"Yeah." Jay laughs. "But I'd tell you that sober too."

He beckons you to climb into bed next to him after he's opened all of his windows. After the intensity of sex, the softness of your head resting on his chest pulls a smile out of Jay. Your leg rests atop his own like a needy koala, but he doesn't mind. He loves it, in fact. He's positive you can hear how fast his heart is beating.

"Breakfast tomorrow?" You whisper already half-asleep. Jay kisses the crown of your head and pulls you closer to him.

"Sleep. I'll be here in the morning."

✧･ﾟ─────────── ✧･

please condsider reblogging and leaving a comment (or two!) x

[ofyoursilentreverie]

[cstark3000]

what stage of grief is it when u start crying to jopping

[cstark3000]

listening to nct rn hoping doyoung and haechans hooting and hollering will drown out the pain

[cstark3000]

it will not in fact help now!

[cstark3000]

fuck bro i literally haven’t seen peace all year

[cstark3000]

and then i was shot 127 times….

[tobiosbbyghorl]

accidentally booked! 🔞

- Two best friends go on a budget trip to Japan, only to accidentally book a love hotel for their entire stay. What starts as laughter and harmless fun slowly turns into lingering touches, stolen glances, and undeniable tension—until one night changes everything, and they’re forced to confront feelings they’ve been hiding for far too long.

tags: explicit sexual content, consensual sex, multiple rounds, oral sex (f receiving, m receiving), filming with consent, mirror sex, semi-public setting, overstimulation, light possessiveness, dirty talk, praise kink, body worship, breast fixation, shower/jacuzzi sex

wc: 11,900

rie's note: this was from last year>< so expect errors ahead! enjoy the ride! like,reblogs, and FEEDBACKS 👉🏻🥹👈🏻are highly appreciated :3 added more scenes hence the lil different writing style heh

You were halfway through your iced americano when Park Sunghoon slid into the seat across from you with the kind of urgency only someone who forgot to buy concert tickets would have.

“I did it,” he said, slightly breathless. “I found the cheapest possible hotel in Tokyo for five nights. I’m talking dirt-cheap.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And by ‘cheapest’ you mean we’ll be sharing a closet with a raccoon family or—?”

“No, no. This place looks fine. Clean. Themed. Cute. I think the rooms are based on trains or something.”

You blinked at him. “Trains?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, like that explained everything. “It’s called ‘Fantasy Express.’ Kind of a vibe, right?”

“…Doesn’t that sound like a porn parody of the Shinkansen?”

Sunghoon gave you a blank look. “You said budget. I delivered. Be grateful.”

You snorted and took a sip of your drink. “Right. This better not end with me cuddling you for warmth in a windowless shoebox.”

He grinned. “Is that a threat or a promise, bestie?”

You flipped him off, laughing. But deep down, you were buzzing with excitement — not just because of the trip, but because it had been years since you and Sunghoon got away together.

After college, everything changed. Jobs, time zones, relationships that fizzled out before they even began. But Sunghoon was constant. He was the one person who could make you laugh even when you were crying into your broken laptop at 2 a.m. He was the voice note at midnight, the “I made too much ramen, come over,” the comfort in chaos.

So when the two of you finally managed to book this long-overdue trip to Japan, it felt like pressing pause on real life. No deadlines. No drama. Just the two of you, trains, street food, and maybe — if the stars aligned — a little karaoke.

You’d been talking about it since your second year in college. A pinky promise made over shared takoyaki from a food stall on your campus lawn.

“One day, we’ll go. Just you and me. Tokyo, Kyoto, Osaka. A no-plan plan.”

You remembered that promise because Sunghoon never broke his.

Which is why you didn’t question it when he said he’d handle the hotel. And flights. And a few “must-see” locations, because even though you called it a “no-plan plan,” you both knew you were the chaotic one.

The night before your flight, Sunghoon came over to help you pack. In reality, he just sat on your bed, eating your snacks and judging your underwear choices.

“Why do you need seven pairs for five days?” he asked, mouth full of chips.

“In case I fall into a river. Or sweat. Or get possessed and pee myself. I don’t know, leave me alone.”

He laughed and reached over to zip your suitcase, fingers brushing yours for a second too long.

Neither of you mentioned it.

The flight was smooth. You watched a rom-com, he watched anime. You fell asleep on his shoulder. He didn’t move.

When you landed in Tokyo, everything felt surreal — the bright signs, the clean air, the sense that something new was about to happen.

The train ride to the hotel was quiet. You scrolled through Instagram while Sunghoon triple-checked the hotel address on Google Maps.

“We’re almost there,” he said, pointing to a small tucked-away building near the corner of a quiet street.

It looked decent. Small. Cozy. A glowing pink sign above the entrance read:

“Welcome to FANTASY EXPRESS — All Aboard the Love Line!”

You stared at it. Then at him.

“Hoon.”

“Yeah?”

“…Did you just book us into a love hotel?”

Sunghoon blinked. Looked back up at the sign. Back at you. “…No?” he tried, voice cracking halfway through. You deadpanned. “This is literally vibrating with sex energy.”

“I thought it was themed!”

“It is. The theme is fucking.”

He dropped his suitcase. “I swear on everything holy, I didn’t know. I just thought it was quirky. It said ‘train carriage rooms’ and had cute colors!”

You stared at him, unblinking. “You booked us into a love hotel. For five nights.”

A silence.

And then, slowly, the two of you burst into uncontrollable laughter — loud, ugly, bent-over laughter as passersby gave you weird looks.

Sunghoon wiped a tear from his eye. “Guess we’re really going on a ride.”

You shoved his shoulder, still laughing. “Idiot.”

The door slid open with a hiss, revealing the room Sunghoon had confidently reserved for five full nights.

You took one look inside and immediately stopped.

“…You’re joking.”

“Nope,” Sunghoon said in a flat voice, already sounding like he regretted every choice he’d ever made.

There were train handles hanging from the ceiling.

The walls had digital screens showing looped footage of Japanese countryside rolling past at high speed.

A faux train announcement played in the background every few minutes: “Next stop… pleasure.”

You turned slowly toward him. “Sunghoon.”

“Okay, wait—just hear me out.”

You stepped in and did a slow, horrified turn.

There was a chrome pole right in the middle of the room.

The bed looked like it was upholstered with actual train seats, complete with seat belts and tray tables. And worst of all, the mirrored ceiling had a blinking LED banner that read:

🚨 “ALL ABOARD — NONSTOP EXPRESS” 🚨

You gaped. “So its really is a love hotel.”

“No it’s not! …Okay maybe. Technically. But—look, I didn’t know! I thought it was just themed!”

“You thought this was a railway-themed budget capsule, and not a sex train hotel?!”

“I didn’t read that far down the listing, okay?! It was cheap and looked… clean! Plus the review said ‘lots of amenities!’”

“Sunghoon. There’s a vending machine for underwear's and condoms next to the door.”

He paused. Looked. “…Okay, I’ll give you that one. You sighed, dragging your suitcase in anyway. “We are going to get diseases just by existing here.”

Sunghoon followed behind sheepishly, dragging his bag. “You know, in a different light, this place is kind of hilarious.”

You turned to him and blinked. “We’re literally sleeping in a porn set.” “A very affordable porn set.”

You flopped dramatically onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling mirror.

He was right. It was funny. And the more you looked at the blinking lights, the mood lighting, and the suggestively placed towel basket beside the bed, the harder it was to stop laughing.

You both ended up bent over, wheezing from laughter as the fake train announcement repeated:

“Passengers, please hold on… for your own safety.”

Ten Minutes Later

“…Wait,” you muttered from the bathroom doorway. “Is that a jacuzzi?”

Sunghoon looked up from his phone. “A what?”

You pointed. “There’s a jacuzzi in here. And… no way. Is that a sauna?” He came over and peeked in. Sure enough, tucked behind the ridiculously clean glass partition was a legit two-person jacuzzi tub with sleek jets, LED lighting, and a discreet shelf of complimentary scented oils. And beside it? A cramped but actual mini sauna, already set to a cozy 45°C.

“Oh my god,” you whispered. “They really want people to… marinate before they—”

“Okay! I’m not letting this place win,” Sunghoon cut in. “We are taking full advantage. This shit is expensive in normal hotels.”

You looked at him in disbelief. “You want to use the sex jacuzzi?”

He shrugged. “It’s just a tub. The jets don’t know what’s going on. You want to spend the night pouting, or do you want a hot bath with free tea tree oil?”

You groaned. “I hate that you’re making sense.”

Twenty Minutes Later

You were in the tub first — submerged in warm water, hair tied up, sighing as the jets eased the travel ache out of your spine.

“I feel gross about how good this is,” you mumbled.

Sunghoon was sitting just outside the sauna, half-wrapped in a towel, drinking water. “Don’t get used to it. This is our peak. We’re about to suffer in a train-themed sex chamber for five nights.”

“You say that like it’s not your fault.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Fair.” You watched as steam curled off his shoulders, his skin flushed slightly pink from the sauna. He looked good. A little too good.

You quickly looked away and sank deeper into the water. Nope. Not thinking that.

You were best friends. The kind who shared hoodies and bitched about exes and had matching pajamas from a failed couples Halloween sale. You weren’t supposed to be noticing how broad his chest was, or how low his towel sat on his hips.

He caught you looking. You snapped your head the other way.

A pause. “You okay?” he asked, voice lower.

“Yup,” you replied, too fast. “Just tired.”

You heard him chuckle under his breath. “You’re a terrible liar.”

You splashed water at him. “Go back to your sauna.”

But the heat in your chest had nothing to do with steam.

You both climbed into the ridiculous velvet-upholstered bed and laid side by side, limbs awkwardly angled to avoid touching too much.

The train screen looped soft countryside visuals.

The LED sign above the mirror blinked softly:

“Don’t miss your stop…”

You stared at the ceiling. “Why does this feel like the foreplay part of a drama?”

Sunghoon’s voice was low. “Because everything here is designed for people to fuck.”

You both went quiet. Too quiet.

Then he added, a little too casually. “If you get cold tonight, just say something.”

You turned your head slightly. His profile glowed in the soft red light. “I won’t.”

“I know.” But neither of you moved. Not yet.

You woke up to the smell of grilled fish and miso soup.

Blinking groggily, you turned your head to find Sunghoon already sitting up in bed, hair messy, skin flushed from sleep, and a gleam of childlike wonder in his eyes.

“Room service,” he said simply, holding up a laminated card with neat checkboxes. “And it’s actually good. Like. Too good for this place.”

You sat up, blinking blearily at the silver-domed trays on the fold-out tray table. “Wait—this place has room service?”

“Apparently. I checked last night before sleeping. They serve breakfast to the room for ‘maximum comfort and pleasure.’” He did finger quotes around that last part. “Very suggestive. But also… delicious.”

He peeled the lid off one tray, and the smell immediately hit you: steaming rice, grilled salmon, soft tamagoyaki, pickled vegetables, and even a little matcha jelly cube for dessert.

Your stomach growled audibly.

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, crawling across the bed like a zombie. “I’m never leaving.”

He passed you chopsticks. “See? You talk a big game, but deep down, you’re just here for the perks.”

You dug in. “Mmf—if you booked this place on purpose for this breakfast alone, I forgive you.”

“I’ll take that as my official pardon,” he said, chewing on a piece of miso-glazed eggplant.

For a moment, the room was quiet — just soft clinks of chopsticks, muffled chewing, and the fake train sounds looping in the background.

And then, as always, came the banter.

“So,” you said, mid-bite, “you gonna keep walking around in that towel all morning or…?”

Sunghoon glanced down at himself — still shirtless, his towel hanging loose around his hips as if he were starring in a shampoo commercial. He smirked. “Jealous?”

You scoffed. “Of what? Your man boobs?”

“First of all,” he said, popping a grape into his mouth, “these are pecs. Try not to cry when you see me in real lighting.”

“I’ve seen you in fluorescent kitchen lights eating ramen at 2 a.m. I’ve survived worse.”

“I’ve also seen you drunk with a sheet mask on and mismatched socks, so don’t act superior.”

“Those socks were a fashion statement.”

He snorted. “A cry for help.”

After breakfast and a little too much matcha jelly, the two of you finally started getting dressed.

Or trying to, anyway.

You were standing at the small mirror near the door, brushing your teeth and fussing with your hair when you heard Sunghoon behind you, grunting in frustration.

“What’s your problem?” you asked, spitting out toothpaste.

“Where the hell is the other sock I packed?”

You glanced over and nearly choked — he was half-dressed, hair still wet from the shower, towel hanging on the rack, shirt hanging off one shoulder like a K-drama lead in distress.

You raised a brow. “Check your suitcase. Or maybe the laundry bag?”

He groaned dramatically and flopped onto the bed. “Why does this always happen to me?”

“Because your packing skills are trash.”

“You packed seven pairs of underwear for five nights!”

“Prepared. Not chaotic.”

“Psychotic.”

You tossed a sock at his face. “Shut up and wear this.”

He caught it, looked at the pattern — pastel pink with tiny peaches on them — and grinned.

“Wait… these are your socks.”

“They’re clean. Be grateful.”

He gave you a playful look. “If my feet feel too soft and feminine later, it’s your fault.”

You rolled your eyes. “You could use a little softness.” There was a beat of quiet as you both finished dressing.

And then, almost too casually, Sunghoon asked, “You good with the plan today? Shibuya, food, maybe teamLab Planets?”

You smiled. “Hell yeah. Let’s go get blinded by LED art and overpay for strawberry mochi.”

You grabbed your tote bag, he slung his camera over his shoulder, and together you stepped out into the Tokyo sunlight — blinking against the sudden warmth, the city buzzing with life all around you.

The love hotel’s sliding door closed behind you with a soft mechanical hiss.

“God, being outside feels illegal after that room,” you muttered, stretching.

Sunghoon yawned beside you. “We need to get out as much as possible. If we spend too long in there…”

“…we’ll end up using that pole, and not ironically.”

You said it jokingly, but the second it left your lips, you realized you were both thinking it.

You looked at him. He looked at you.

You both looked away.

Sunghoon cleared his throat and started walking. “Right. Food. Vibes. Let’s pretend we’re not staying in horny train hell.”

You followed, heart doing weird things.

By 10:30 a.m., you were already on your second iced drink and your fifth photo taken by Sunghoon.

"This one’s blurry,” you said, looking over his shoulder as he flipped through the camera roll.

“You moved,” he replied, flicking to the next one.

“I was mid-chew.”

“Exactly. Candid.”

“You got my molar in HD.”

He laughed, slinging the camera back over his shoulder. “You’re welcome. That’s raw content.”

You stuck your tongue out at him and tugged him toward the next street corner, where a little taiyaki cart was steaming golden fish-shaped cakes onto paper trays.

He bought one with custard and one with sweet potato, handing you the first without asking — he always remembered your favorite.

The day passed in a colorful, unfiltered blur.

From Asakusa’s temple streets to Ueno Park’s shaded paths, you strolled through the buzzing city under soft summer clouds, sharing bites of grilled yakitori, stopping at claw machines, and laughing until your stomach hurt every time Sunghoon got scammed by a vending machine.

“Bro,” he groaned as his Pocari Sweat got stuck halfway. “I just wanted electrolytes.”

“That’s what you get for bullying me about my socks.”

“They are ridiculous.”

“And now they’re your lucky socks, so shut up and suffer.”

He grinned, defeated, as you shook the machine for him until the drink finally dropped.

He brought the good camera — the one he only took out during special trips or when he really wanted to remember something.

At first, it was just the usual:

Colorful alleyways, Vintage signs, Cats in front of bookstores and Neon billboards starting to glow as dusk rolled in

But then the lens kept shifting toward you.

He’d tilt the viewfinder just slightly to the left whenever you were sipping your drink, or smiling up at a paper lantern, or holding up a peace sign in front of a giant tanuki statue.

He didn’t make a big deal out of it.

He never did.

Just snapped quietly, a small smile on his face, pretending to be adjusting settings every time you caught him in the act.

“Stop taking pictures of me looking ugly,” you said as you leaned against a vending machine at golden hour.

“You never look ugly,” he replied without thinking.

You blinked. He clicked his shutter.

You smacked his arm. “Flattery gets you nowhere, Park.”

“I was talking about the vending machine, actually.”

“Oh, screw you—”

By late afternoon, the two of you were barefoot, wading through glowing water and walking across mirrored floors.

The floating flowers, the endless lights, the reflection of stars above and below you — it all felt surreal.

Sunghoon was quiet most of the time, too busy adjusting focus, waiting for the exact second a projection shifted, or the water stilled, or your silhouette lined up against the light.

“Stay right there,” he murmured, crouching low.

You stood still, bathed in blue and purple.

A single glowing lily floated past your ankles.

Click.

When he finally looked up from the lens, his expression was soft, like he’d forgotten where you were — like the whole room was quiet just for a second.

You waved your arms. “Earth to perv?”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, standing up and brushing dust off his knees. “Just… this lighting’s good.”

“Mm-hmm. You’re not slick.”

Dinner was ramen from a tiny shop hidden in an alley where no one spoke English and the broth was so rich it felt illegal.

You walked off the food through quiet backstreets, with neon signs humming above your heads and laundry flapping on upper balconies.

Sunghoon carried your bag without saying anything.

You bought him an ice cream without asking.

It was so easy. The kind of night you wanted to fold up and keep in your pocket forever.

At one point, you stopped to take a photo of your own — just a snapshot of him in the warm city light, licking ice cream and grinning.

“Got you,” you said, triumphant.

He raised a brow. “You finally captured my beauty?”

“No. I finally got proof you like vanilla.”

“You said you wouldn’t judge.”

“Too late.”

The fake train ambiance greeted you again as you entered the room — soft station chimes, muffled track sounds looping on the hidden speakers. You kicked off your shoes with a groan and threw your bag down like it betrayed you.

Sunghoon collapsed face-first on the bed. “We’ve walked 23,000 steps. I checked.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“My knees are 47 years old now.”

You laughed as you peeled off your socks. “Okay, Grandpa. Want me to book us an onsen for tomorrow?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he lifted his head slowly, eyes narrowing at the frosted-glass door in the corner.

“…wait. We still haven’t used the sauna together.”

You followed his gaze.

The in-room sauna and jacuzzi setup was tucked into the corner like an afterthought — sleek, surprisingly clean, and wildly over-the-top for the price. You hadn’t dared touch it yet.

You raised a brow. “You serious?”

He was already standing.

“I’m not walking like a gremlin tomorrow. Sauna it is.”

The small wooden sauna heated up quickly — enough for the two of you to sit side by side, towels wrapped around your waists, foreheads already glistening.

It smelled like cedar and something citrusy.

“I feel like we’re in a rich person’s armpit,” you muttered.

Sunghoon cracked up, head tilted back, eyes closed. “I feel like we’re about to get a motivational TED Talk from a man named Daisuke about financial freedom.”

You snorted. “We are literally boiling ourselves in a love hotel sauna. What freedom?”

There was a pause.

Then—

“This is nice though,” he admitted. “Like… surprisingly.”

You hummed, wiping sweat from your brow. “We deserve it. That yakitori hunt was a whole workout.”

A beat passed.

“Also, you were sweating this much at the gacha machine, so I feel like this is just your brand.”

“Don’t come for my capsule toys. They bring me joy.”

“Your suitcase is full of tiny plastic sushi. Let that sink in.”

After the sauna, you both flopped into the jacuzzi — towels still on, bubbles swirling lazily, the overhead lighting dimmed to a soft purple glow.

You leaned back against the edge and sighed so dramatically that Sunghoon mimicked it seconds later.

“Haaaaa~”

“Haaaaa.”

“…Why do you sound like a dying anime girl?”

“Why do you sound like a wounded elk?”

You flicked a handful of bubbles at him, and he retaliated by splashing water into your face.

By the time you both settled down, your cheeks hurt from laughing.

He nudged your foot underwater. “Hey. For real.”

You looked over.

“This whole day was perfect. Thanks for not letting me book some sad capsule hotel instead.”

You smiled softly. “Thanks for accidentally giving us the weirdest five days of our lives.”

A pause.

You both sank a little deeper into the water, the bubbles rising quietly between you.

Nothing else needed to be said.

Not yet.

After the sauna and jacuzzi, everything felt heavier — your limbs loose, your muscles relaxed, your brain pleasantly fuzzy in the best way.

Sunghoon handed you your toothbrush like always. Same side of the sink. Same rhythm. You brushed shoulder to shoulder, bumping elbows whenever one of you leaned over to spit.

You wore your oversized shirt — the one with faded cartoon prints and sleeves too long for your arms.

He wore a black tank top and gray sweats, his hair still damp and curling a bit at the nape.

It looked domestic.

Dangerously so.

You didn’t comment on it.

The sheets were still warm when you both flopped down again — you on your side of the bed, Sunghoon sprawled diagonally, legs halfway off the edge like a kid after a sugar crash.

"What do we watch?” you mumbled, tugging the blanket over your legs.

“I found a channel earlier that only plays weird food documentaries,” he said. “One of them was about a guy in Osaka who makes noodles with his feet.”

You blinked.

“That sounds unappetizing.”

“And yet I couldn’t look away.”

He flipped on the TV, and soon enough, soft narration in Japanese filled the room. Onscreen, a slow montage showed close-ups of dough, broth, and a man lovingly caressing noodles like they were his own children.

You both stared.

Then:

“His foot game’s strong,” Sunghoon muttered.

You snorted, smacking his arm. “Stop.”

A second later, he tilted the screen toward you and snapped a photo of your mid-laugh face.

“Delete it,” you said.

“Nope.”

“Sunghoon—”

“That’s a top-tier smile. Archive-worthy.”

You reached for the camera.

He held it just out of reach, laughing as you tried to climb over him, only to lose your balance and flop onto his side of the bed.

He oofed softly as your elbow landed against his stomach.

And then…

You didn’t move.

Neither did he.

You were both breathing, barely, quiet again except for the soft murmur of the food show and the faint rumble of train sounds from the wall speaker — still looping, still somehow comforting.

Your head rested near his shoulder. His arm lay beside you, palm up.

You didn’t think about how easy it would be to lace your fingers through it.

Because that wasn’t the point.

Not tonight.

Eventually, you mumbled, “I’ll fall asleep right here.”

“Good.”

“Then you’ll complain that I drool.”

“I always do. Doesn’t stop you.”

“…True.”

A beat passed.

Then Sunghoon shifted slightly, pulled the blanket over you too, and said, soft as a sigh:

“Night, dummy.”

You smiled into the pillow.

“Night, Hoon.”

You both woke up later than planned.

To no one’s surprise, the blackout curtains plus the post-sauna coma plus the gentle train track sounds had knocked you both out cold.

When you opened your eyes, Sunghoon was already awake beside you, scrolling on his phone with bedhead and one eye squinting at the light.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he greeted without looking.

You groaned and threw the blanket over your face. “Why are you always so chipper in the morning?”

“I already ordered breakfast. It’ll be here in ten.”

That made you peek out

“Pretty good options. Surprisingly tasty too.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Did you ate already?”

“I may have had a mini croissant. For science.”

The tray rolled in like a hotel drama — miso soup, boiled eggs, tamagoyaki, rice, fruit, juice, and coffee, all neatly arranged in little porcelain dishes.

“This is way too fancy for a place with a pole in the corner,” you whispered.

Sunghoon burst out laughing. “We should eat on the pole.”

“Try it. Break your back.”

You sat cross-legged on the bed, carefully pouring soy sauce into the tiny saucer while Sunghoon buttered his toast like an old man at a countryside inn.

It was… cozy. Stupidly cozy.

He took a photo of the spread — and then one of you holding a strawberry between your lips.

“You’re so annoying,” you said.

“Smile,” he replied.

And you did.

You both dressed quickly — jeans and sneakers, matching windbreakers by accident (he insisted you copied him), camera packed again.

The plan today was Shimokitazawa, the artsy thrift-store-filled neighborhood that smelled like espresso, vinyl records, and dreams of quitting your job.

You wandered between secondhand shops and cafés, trying on sunglasses, picking up ugly mugs, posing in front of graffiti.

Sunghoon’s camera was out the entire time — and even though he pretended he was just testing settings, you saw how he always pointed it at you when you weren’t looking.

You caught him once.

He didn’t deny it.

“I like how you look when you’re not trying.”

You blinked.

He looked away, adjusting the lens. “Lighting’s better.”

“…Right.”

It was small.

You reached for a cold canned drink at the exact same moment.

Your fingers brushed his. Barely. Briefly.

But it lingered — just a half-second too long.

You felt it. So did he.

Neither of you said a thing.

You were sitting on a bench outside a vintage bookstore, sipping soda while he reviewed the photos on his camera.

“What are you deleting?”

“Blurry ones.”

“Let me see.”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“Because some are mine.”

“…Some?”

He paused.

Then smiled a little — not in a teasing way this time.

“Some are just for me.”

You didn’t ask what that meant.

You just let it sit there between you.

Warm. Quiet. Weightless.

But not really.

You returned to the hotel a little earlier than Day 1, shoes dusty, legs tired, hands full of little finds — enamel pins, a thrifted shirt, a random keychain he insisted matched your vibe.

In the jacuzzi again. This time quieter. You both leaned back and let the water do the talking.

Later, you brushed your teeth side by side again, yawning into your sleeves, shoulders bumping gently.

You climbed into bed first. This time, when he laid beside you, you noticed how close your hands were on the blanket.

Not touching.

Just… close enough. You didn’t pull away.

Neither did he. It started small.

Just a joke, really. After another long day out — this time at the Shibuya Sky deck and walking through Harajuku — you’d peeled off your jacket and complained about how sweaty you were.

“You’re melting,” Sunghoon commented, flopping dramatically onto the bed while you stood near the mirror, tying your hair up.

“You’d melt too if you had boobs trapping heat.”

He snorted. “Do you want me to confirm that or—” You threw a pillow at him.

“Okay, but real talk,” Sunghoon said as the door hissed shut behind him. “This sauna is saving my life. I’m starting a petition to install one back home.”

You chuckled, stepping inside after him in your towel, feeling the warm steam immediately cling to your skin.

Tonight felt hotter somehow — and not just because of the temperature.

Maybe it was how Sunghoon looked right now. Hair swept back slightly damp, skin already glowing, the soft edge of his collarbone visible. His towel was secure but low, and he sat with one arm resting over the wooden bench behind you, casual, almost… cocky.

“So,” he started, turning slightly toward you. “You gonna keep avoiding the fact that you made a noise when you sat down yesterday?”

“I did not.”

"You groaned like you were starring in a drama.”

You blinked at him. “Are you being flirty right now?”

He smirked. “Would it work?”

You gave him a look.

He laughed, leaning his head back against the wall. “Relax. I flirt with everyone.”

“…No, you don’t.”

He looked at you again, slower this time.

You felt it — that shift.

The quiet drawl in his tone when he said, “Right. I don’t.”

Ten minutes in, the steam got thicker.

You leaned forward to reach for your water bottle, not realizing your towel had come a little… loose.

You tugged it quickly and pressed it tighter to your chest, but the damage was done.

Sunghoon’s eyes had flicked down.

And then—back up.

He cleared his throat and smirked. “…Nice catch.”

You threw him a glare, cheeks hot, but not from the heat.

“Don’t be gross.”

“I’m not being gross,” he said, tilting his head lazily. “I’m just observant. It’s part of my charm.”

“Your charm is a menace.”

“Yeah?” he said, voice dropping just enough to make your skin prickle. “Still keeping me around, though.”

Later, while drying off, you were both laughing over a dumb quiz show playing on the love hotel TV, towels replaced with your usual comfy clothes. But the air still hadn’t gone back to normal.

You sat on the bed, brushing your hair.

He sat behind you, watching something on his phone, absently letting his fingers toy with the end of your shirt hem.

You didn’t realize he was doing it until he stilled.

Then—

“You always wear this one,” he said softly. “It’s got a little hole in the back.”

You turned to look at him.

“You’re really paying attention, huh?”

His gaze didn’t waver.

“I always do.”

There was no laugh this time. No grin. Just the warm glow from the room lamp and the way his eyes dropped for a second — from your face, to your lips, to your collarbone — before he looked back up.

You swallowed.

He looked way too close all of a sudden.

And yet, not close enough.

You stood up.

Quickly. Casually.

“I’m brushing my teeth.”

“Okay,” he said behind you, quiet… amused. “Run away, then.”The night settled in earlier than usual — maybe because you both agreed your legs needed a break, maybe because the city lights felt better admired from the bed with snacks and cold drinks.

You kicked your feet up, pulling the blanket over your lap while Sunghoon scrolled through the hotel TV’s library.

"We’re not watching something sad,” you warned.

“Why not?”

“Because every time we do, you start doing that emotional whisper voice after.”

He raised a brow, amused. “‘If I die, tell my cat I loved her’ isn’t emotional. It’s factual.”

You snorted and popped a grape into your mouth.

He settled on a coming-of-age romance film — something soft, slow, with golden lighting and friends-to-lovers tension that hit a little too close.

You didn’t comment.

Thirty minutes in, the movie faded into the background. You were half-focused, shoulder-to-shoulder with Sunghoon beneath the same blanket, a bowl of chips between you.

He reached over to grab one, and his fingers brushed yours again.

This time, you didn’t move away.

Neither did he.

You felt him glance at you — not a quick flick, but a lingering stare.

“…What?” you asked, not looking at him.

"Nothing.”

“You’re staring.”

“I’m admiring.”

Your heart thudded once.

“…What?”

He smiled slowly, eyes dropping to your mouth. “I said nothing.”

Somewhere between the third snack break and the movie credits, Sunghoon nudged your leg.

“Truth or dare?”

You looked at him sideways. “What are we, twelve?”

“Pick.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Truth.”

He leaned back against the headboard, one arm behind his head.

“Have you ever thought about kissing me?”

Your breath caught

He didn’t laugh this time. He didn’t smirk.

He just watched you — calm, unreadable.

You stared at him, pulse ticking louder.

“…Is that a real question?”

His voice dropped lower. “You chose ‘truth.’”

The silence stretched. You felt it thick in your throat, in the space between your knees touching beneath the blanket.

Then, softly—

“Once or twice,” you admitted.

His lips curved, slow and smug.

You shoved his shoulder, embarrassed. “Okay, your turn.”

“Dare,” he said immediately.

You blinked. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want to lie.”

You stared at him.

“…Fine. I dare you to—”

“Kiss me.”

Your breath stalled.

“What?”

“I dare you to kiss me.”

He said it casually, but you saw the way his hand gripped the blanket — the slight twitch in his jaw, the sharp inhale he tried to hide.

You licked your lips slowly.

“Sunghoon—”

"It’s just a game, right?” he said, voice velvet-soft.

You looked at him.

At his eyes. His mouth. His flushed cheeks and the way he was so close but not making a move.

Like he was giving you control.

And that scared you more than anything.

Because suddenly, the game didn’t feel like a game anymore.

You leaned in.

Just a little.

Just enough that he felt your breath.

But before your lips touched, you pulled back and whispered, “Next round.”

He exhaled sharply, a chuckle slipping out — part relief, part frustration.

“You’re evil.”

You smiled.

“Just playing the game.”

“I’m sleepy,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

The tension from the game still clung to your skin, warm and heavy. Your heart was doing too much—pounding like you just ran up a hill instead of almost-kissing your best friend.

You tugged the blanket up and turned on your side, facing away from him.

Or so you thought.

Because as you lay back on the pillows, eyes half-lidded and breath evening out, your gaze landed somewhere else.

Above you.

The mirror on the ceiling.

You blinked.

It was such a stupid, love-hotel thing to have, and you hadn’t even paid attention to it since the first day. But now?

Now you saw everything.

You.

Sunghoon.

Lying side by side, under the same blanket, bodies close enough to share heat.

His head tilted toward you slightly, lips parted like he was going to say something—but didn’t.

Your breath caught.

The image in the mirror wasn’t what friends looked like.

It wasn’t casual. It was intimate.

Too much.

Not enough.

You shifted, just barely.

And in the reflection, you watched Sunghoon do the same.

His hand moved above the blanket.

Closer.

Not touching you—but hovering near your waist.

You felt his knuckles brush the hem of your shirt, barely there.

Goosebumps rose instantly.

Your eyes flicked up again—to the mirror.

He was watching it too.

Watching you.

“…Sunghoon,” you said, barely audible.

He didn’t move his hand. Didn’t blink.

“I know,” he said softly, like he already knew what was in your chest. “You’re sleepy.”

But he still didn’t pull away.

Instead, he let his fingers rest lightly against your side—just enough pressure to make you feel it.

His voice dropped, rougher now.

“But if you weren’t…”

Your stomach twisted.

“If I wasn’t?” you asked.

He met your eyes in the mirror.

“I’d kiss you,” he murmured. “And this time, you wouldn’t stop me.”

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.

The air between you was thick. You felt the heat from his body, the blanket suddenly too warm. His words echoed, burning a hole into your chest.

Still, you didn’t move.

Not away.

Not toward him.

Just… there. Caught.

Heart racing.

Eyes locked in the reflection.

And then—

He pulled his hand away slowly.

A soft breath left your lips.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he whispered.

You closed your eyes.

But you didn’t sleep for a long, long time.

Not with his voice still in your ear.

Not with his hand still ghosting your skin.

And not with that mirror burning above you, showing you something you couldn’t unsee.

“C’mon,” Sunghoon said, tugging your wrist gently as you both stepped out of the taxi and into the Tokyo night. “We’re not leaving Japan without at least one club night. Live a little.”

You gave him a look. “You’re the one who googled ‘clubs that don’t have a cover fee’ and filtered by ‘low noise.’”

“Exactly,” he grinned. “I’m a responsible party animal.”

You snorted, but let him guide you in.

The club was tucked away under a neon sign and a set of stairs, with a cozy, crowded feel—dark corners, glowing drinks, and music that thudded deep in your chest.

He ordered you both something sweet and sparkling. The kind of drink that made your lips sticky and your smile looser.

It was supposed to be harmless.

Just a night out.

You wore a black dress—Sunghoon’s pick, actually, from earlier that day.

“I’m not letting you pack a bunch of oversized hoodies for a night out,” he said back in the hotel. “Show some skin. It’s Japan. Everyone’s hot.”

So you did.

And now?

Now you were paying for it.

Two drinks in, you danced near the edge of the floor, swaying with the beat, laughing with Sunghoon beside you. His hand hovered low on your back—not touching, but close enough to be there if you stumbled.

Until he stepped away for a second to use the bathroom.

And they showed up.

Two guys—tall, confident, clearly a little tipsy.

“Hey, you alone?” one of them asked, smiling too much, eyes dipping low.

You smiled politely, shaking your head. “I’m with someone.”

“Oh?” The second guy grinned. “Boyfriend?”

Before you could answer, you felt it—a hand on your waist. Warm. Familiar.

Sunghoon.

“No,” he said smoothly, his voice sharp behind you. “She’s with me.”

You blinked, surprised by the edge in his tone.

Sunghoon wasn’t the jealous type. Or at least, he’d never acted like it before. Not when guys checked you out. Not when they flirted harmlessly.

But tonight?

He wasn’t joking.

One look at his face and you knew.

The guys backed off, muttering something in Japanese you didn’t catch. But you didn’t care. Not when Sunghoon’s fingers stayed on your hip even after they were gone.

You turned to him.

“…You okay?”

He stared at you for a second.

Then he laughed—short, breathless.

“You have any idea how you look tonight?”

You blinked. “Sunghoon—”

“No,” he said, pulling you gently toward a quieter corner of the club. “I let you out in that dress and thought, yeah, sure, I’ll be normal about it. But then I see guys eyeing you like they have a shot and suddenly I’m—”

He cut himself off.

You stared.

“Suddenly you’re what?”

He looked at you. Really looked.

And for the first time tonight, there was no filter.

“I’m not normal about you,” he said simply. “Haven’t been for a long time.”

Your heart stuttered.

The music faded into nothing.

“…Sunghoon.”

“I know,” he said, eyes flicking to your lips. “We’re best friends. This whole trip’s been fun. Flirty. Safe. But tonight?”

He leaned in.

“Tonight, I want to make it clear.”

Your back hit the wall, gently.

Not rough.

Not rushed.

Just enough to make your breath hitch.

“You’re with me,” he whispered, lips barely brushing your jaw.

And you didn’t move.

Not away.

Not at all.

The cab ride back to the hotel was dead silent.

Not because there was nothing to say.

Because everything had already been said — in the way Sunghoon looked at you when those guys tried flirting at the club, in the way his hand gripped your waist like it belonged there.

And in the way he whispered, low and rough:

“You’re with me.”

The words looped in your head the whole ride. And when you stepped into your room — the one with the ridiculous train-themed decor, mood lighting, and giant mirror above the bed — it was over.

The second the door clicked shut—

He kissed you.

Not like a friend.

Not like someone testing the waters.

Like he knew what you tasted like.

Like he needed it.

His hands were everywhere — cupping your face, sliding down your waist, pressing into your lower back until your bodies were flush. You were barely able to keep up with his mouth — all tongue, teeth, urgency.

You gasped when his lips left yours to nip your jaw.

“Sunghoon—”

“I told you,” he growled, voice wrecked. “I’m not waiting anymore.”

He walked you backward toward the bed, kissing you between every step.

You fell onto the mattress, breathless, heart racing. The mirror above showed your reflection — the two of you tangled in shadows and heat, your thighs parting instinctively as Sunghoon leaned over you.

“You don’t know,” he whispered, nose brushing yours, “how many nights I’ve watched you sleep in this bed.”

His hand slid under your dress, fingertips grazing your thighs.

“Thinking about this.”

You gasped when he squeezed your leg, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You’re soaked through,” he murmured.

“I’ve been—thinking about it too,” you admitted, cheeks warm.

That was all he needed.

Sunghoon yanked off his shirt, revealing the hard lines of his chest, the trail of muscle down his abs — you stared shamelessly.

He noticed.

“Like what you see?”

You nodded.

“Use your words, baby.”

“I like it,” you whispered, eyes blown wide. “I want all of you.”

He groaned. “Fuck, you’re gonna kill me.”

Then he was kissing down your neck, tugging your dress off slowly, his mouth dragging over every new inch of skin.

“No bra?” he murmured against your chest.

“You told me to wear something easy to take off,” you whispered.

His eyes burned.

“I was joking,” he growled, “but fuck, that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever said.”

His tongue circled your nipple before sucking hard, making your hips buck.

“Sunghoon—”

“Be patient,” he said, sliding your panties off. “I’m going to make you cum on my tongue first.”

Then he was kneeling at the edge of the bed, pulling your legs over his shoulders, and diving in.

You cried out.

He licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit, groaning like he’d just tasted heaven.

Then again. Slower.

His fingers gripped your thighs, keeping you open as he licked you deep — tongue teasing your folds, swirling around your clit, then flattening with just enough pressure to make your legs shake.

You tangled your fingers in his hair. “Sunghoon, please—please—”

He paused, pulled back just enough to speak.

“Say it again.”

You moaned. “Please, Sunghoon—make me cum—please—”

“Good girl.”

He dove back in, and you were gone.

Your orgasm ripped through you, thighs clenching around his head as you came with a broken moan of his name.

He didn’t stop — he kept licking, slow and lazy now, lapping up everything you gave him until you were panting, trembling.

He crawled back up your body and kissed you — letting you taste yourself on his lips.

Then you felt him.

Hard. Heavy. Pressing against your thigh.

You reached down, wrapping your hand around him, and his head dropped to your shoulder with a groan.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “If you touch me like that, I’m gonna lose it.”

You smirked, kissing his jaw. “Then lose it.”

He laughed — low and rough — then pulled back to line himself up.

You were still soaked. Still twitching from your first orgasm.

He met your eyes, voice hoarse.

“Tell me you want this.”

“I want this,” you whispered. “I want you.”

He slid in with one deep thrust.

His hips rolled into you, slow and deep.

One thrust — thick, stretching, deliberate.

You gasped, hands gripping his shoulders as he filled you to the hilt.

“Fuck, Sunghoon—”

“I know,” he murmured, mouth brushing your ear. “You’re perfect like this.”

He stilled inside you, chest heaving. You could feel how hard he was — how much restraint he was using just to not lose control.

Then he pulled back.

And pushed in again.

Deeper.

Your breath hitched.

Above you, the mirror reflected everything — the way your body arched into him, how your mouth parted when he bottomed out, the tension in his jaw as he watched you take him like you were made for it.

You whimpered.

“Look up,” he said softly.

You did.

And your entire body shivered.

The sight was unreal.

His body between your legs.

The way your back curved.

The way your nails pressed into his skin.

Sunghoon leaned in close, lips dragging across your jaw.

“Now imagine if you could see this again.”

You blinked, dazed. “What?”

He reached for his phone.

Tossed a look toward the dresser, a sly smirk playing on his lips.

“I brought the tripod.”

Your stomach flipped.

“You’re joking—”

“Nope.” He was already sliding the legs out, adjusting the angle toward the bed. “Consent. One hundred percent. Just for us. Just for tonight. I want to remember everything.”

Your thighs instinctively squeezed around his waist.

He placed the phone on the stand, hit record, and returned to you.

Settled between your legs again.

Caged you in with his arms.

Kissed you like it would never be enough.

“This okay?” he whispered against your lips.

You nodded, eyes wide, chest rising.

“Say it, baby.”

You swallowed. “Yes. I want it. I want you.”

He groaned — guttural, raw.

Then he started moving.

Long, slow strokes at first.

His hips grinding into yours, dragging over every sensitive spot with maddening precision.

His hand slid under your lower back, lifting your hips slightly — angling you better, deeper — until you were gasping his name.

“God—Hoon—”

“You hear that?” he rasped, breathless. “That sound you make when I hit here—”

Thrust.

You cried out.

“—that’s going to ruin me.”

His thumb brushed your clit in tight circles while he fucked you, rhythm getting messier — your thighs slick, sheets twisted, the air thick with skin and heat and moans.

“Look at you,” he whispered. “Look at how fucking pretty you are when I’m inside you.”

You forced yourself to glance up at the mirror again—

And it was filthy.

Your eyes glassy.

Your body bouncing gently with every stroke.

Sunghoon — hair messy, jaw clenched, sweat slicking his chest — completely lost in you.

His thrusts got faster.

Your fingers clawed at his back.

You were getting close again. Too close.

“Sunghoon—Hoon—I’m—”

“Let go,” he growled. “I want to see it. Want to see you cum all over me.”

His hand gripped your thigh tighter, holding you in place as he slammed into you, dragging your orgasm out until you were moaning shamelessly, your body shaking under him.

You came hard.

Eyes rolling.

Toes curling.

He groaned loudly, head dropping to your shoulder.

Then he pulled out suddenly — tugged his cock in his fist once, twice—

“Where?” he panted.

“Stomach,” you gasped. “Please—”

And he spilled with a sharp grunt, hot ropes across your skin, your belly, his hips still twitching from the force.

The room was silent except for your panting.

You both stared at the mirror.

Then each other.

Sunghoon let out a soft, broken laugh.

“...We’re fucked.”

The room was still warm.

The soft buzz of fake train sounds from the speaker had long since faded into the background, replaced by only your uneven breathing and the low whirr of the air conditioner above the bed.

Your body was still tingling.

Muscles relaxed, core aching in the best way, thighs sticky with the aftermath of everything you just shared.

Sunghoon was lying beside you — one arm tucked under his head, the other draped lazily across your bare stomach. His fingers traced little, absent-minded shapes there, gliding through the mess he’d left on your skin like he couldn’t bear not to touch you.

He looked wrecked. Hair messy. Eyes soft. Lips red from kissing too hard.

But the way he was looking at you now?

Completely different.

Like the teasing and jokes were stripped away.

Like he was finally seeing you.

And maybe for the first time—you were really letting him.

“You okay?” he murmured.

His voice was soft, a little hoarse.

You turned your head slowly, looking at him. “Yeah. More than okay.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “Good.”

Then, quieter, “Because that... wasn’t just for fun.”

Your heart stuttered.

“I mean—” he rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, looking up at the ceiling. “I know we’ve been friends forever. I know this trip was supposed to be, like, low-budget ramen and chaotic sightseeing and those vending machines you’re obsessed with, and I definitely didn’t mean to—book a fucking love hotel—but—”

You cut him off with a quiet laugh, rolling over to face him. “Hoon.”

He looked at you, eyes wide.

Your fingers reached up, brushing his hair from his forehead.

“I know it wasn’t just for fun.”

You paused.

“...Did you really mean everything you said tonight? At the club? Back here?”

His gaze didn’t flinch.

“Every word.”

Your breath caught.

“You’ve... thought about this?” you asked, almost shy. “Us?”

He nodded slowly, like he was afraid he’d scare you off. “For longer than I should have.”

You swallowed, heart thudding.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

He smiled, soft and bittersweet. “Because I didn’t think I had a chance. You’re...you. You flirt with ramen vending machines.”

You laughed, burying your face in the pillow. “I do not.”

“You do,” he teased. “You called that one in Shibuya a good boy.”

You giggled.

Then his fingers stilled on your stomach.

“But the second I saw that guy at the club looking at you like you weren’t the most precious thing in the room... I snapped. I couldn’t keep pretending.”

You looked up at him. “And now?”

He leaned in, brushing his nose against yours.

“Now I want to be the only one who gets to touch you.”

Your breath caught.

“I want to take you on real dates. Hold your hand in public. Make you breakfast. Wake up beside you without wondering if I crossed a line the night before.”

Your chest ached — in the best way.

You wrapped your arm around his neck, pulling him closer.

“Then let’s do that.”

His brows lifted slightly.

“Yeah?” You nodded. “You idiot. I’ve wanted this too.”

He smiled — slow and real, the kind that reached his eyes.

And then? He kissed you again.

Gentle this time. Lingering. No rush.

Just the start of something real.

When you finally broke apart, curled in the sheets, your limbs tangled—

Sunghoon rested his cheek on your chest, humming softly.

“We’re kind of gross,” he mumbled sleepily.

You blinked. “What?”

He pointed up lazily.

You looked. And laughed. The mirror.

Still foggy. Still showing your bodies — flushed and messy and completely tangled up in each other.

“Let’s clean up,” you whispered.

Sunghoon groaned dramatically. “Can’t move. Dead. Died from your pussy.”

You smacked his arm with a pillow. “Romantic.”

He grinned.

Then he sat up—still shirtless, still glowing—and stretched.

As you slipped off the bed to grab your robe, something caught your eye.

That little panel near the bathroom. The one that looked just a little too clean. Too new.

You padded over, curiosity tugging.

Pushed it open— And found the train.

“Sunghoon…”

Your voice was breathless, laced with awe and disbelief as you stared into the hidden room tucked behind the bathroom mirror.

He came up behind you, still shirtless, eyes scanning the strange, atmospheric glow pouring out of the secret space.

“…What the hell?” he murmured, stepping in beside you. The small room looked exactly like the interior of a luxury train car.

Gold-trimmed velvet seats lined both sides.

The projected windows showed nighttime scenery rushing past, as if the whole place were actually moving.

And above it all? Mirrors. Full-length. Perfect angles.

“Did you book this on purpose?” you whispered.

Sunghoon laughed quietly, slipping his arm around your waist. “You’re giving me too much credit.”

You turned to look at him, still flushed, still warm and full from earlier.

He stared back at you—his gaze darker now, hungrier.

“You know,” he said, voice low, “we can’t just find a secret room like this and not do something stupid.”

You shivered.

“Define stupid.” His lips ghosted your neck.

“Take off your robe,” he murmured.

You blinked. “Here?”

“Here,” he said, nodding toward one of the seats. “There.”

Then he tilted your chin toward the mirror above.

“So you can watch.” Your stomach flipped.

He pulled you inside gently, guiding you toward the plush velvet seat like it was a throne.

“Sit,” he said, voice deeper now. “Right here. Legs open.”

You did. Robe sliding down your arms, bare underneath.

The second you sat, the coolness of the velvet against your thighs made you gasp.

Sunghoon dropped to his knees between your legs, spreading them wider, mouth just hovering over your center.

He looked up at you once—dark eyes, flushed cheeks, messy hair. Yours.

“I didn’t get enough of you earlier,” he murmured. “Wanna taste you right. Wanna take my time.”

You whimpered.

Then his tongue was on you. Sunghoon devoured you.

Tongue slow and firm, licking up every drop, nose pressed into your folds, mouth working you open until your head fell back and your hips jerked against his mouth.

You glanced up, dazed—and moaned when you caught the mirror reflection.

Everything. Your legs trembling. Your hands gripping the seat. His messy hair buried between your thighs.

He glanced up mid-lick, locking eyes with you through the mirror.

“Keep looking,” he said, mouth shiny. “I want you to see what you do to me.”

He sucked your clit into his mouth then—hard. You gasped, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

“Oh my god—Sunghoon—!”

“You gonna cum again, baby?” he whispered, licking slow circles again. “Right here, in this fucked-up train fantasy room?”

You moaned—loud, desperate.

“Say it.”

“Yes—please—yes, I’m gonna—fuck—”

He flicked his tongue in a perfect rhythm, and when his fingers slid inside you—two, slow, deep—you shattered.

You came on his tongue, thighs shaking around his head, crying out as he licked you through it, swallowing everything you gave him.

When you finally stopped shaking, he kissed the inside of your thighs, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and looked up.

Still on his knees. Still hard.

But now? Smiling. Smug. Possessive.

“Still alive?” he teased. You gave a breathless laugh. “Barely.”

“Good,” he said, standing. “Because I’m not done with you.” He pulled you up to your feet and spun you to face the mirror.

Your reflection was glowing—lips parted, chest heaving, legs weak.

Sunghoon pressed up behind you, cock dragging along your ass as he leaned in to whisper:

“Bend over the seat.”

You obeyed—bare hands gripping the backrest, legs shaking as he kicked your feet further apart.

He stroked himself behind you, tip brushing your folds.

“Look how ready you are,” he murmured. “Already dripping again.”

He slid in with one thrust. You both moaned. You watched in the mirror as he grabbed your hips and began to move—slow at first, letting you feel every thick inch inside.

Then harder. Faster. Filthy.

The sound of skin slapping, your breathy moans, his rough grunts—it was insane. His hand slid around to grip your throat gently, tipping your face toward the mirror again.

“Watch, baby. Watch me fuck you.” You did.

And it was the most erotic thing you’d ever seen.You—bent over, mouth open in shock. Him—behind you, wrecked, hips snapping, muscles straining.

And you couldn’t last. You were already so full. So overstimulated. So his. “I’m—gonna—again—”

“Do it,” he panted. “Cum for me. Make a mess. I’m right behind you.” You came again—harder this time, louder, a cry ripped from your throat as your body clenched around him.

And with a final groan—“Fuck, yes”—he came too, spilling deep inside you, his hips twitching, hands gripping your waist tight as he gave you everything. You collapsed onto the velvet seat, breathless, shaking.

Sunghoon leaned over you, arms wrapped around your waist from behind.

You both stared into the mirror. Sweaty. Marked. Ruined.

“…Best love hotel ever,” you mumbled.

Sunghoon laughed, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“Welcome to the last stops, baby.”

The water steamed around you, warm and humming, tiny waves lapping at your sides as you sank back into the love hotel’s private jacuzzi.

The bathroom light was dim, glowing low and amber, reflecting off the tiled walls like candlelight.

You barely had time to close your eyes before a pair of arms slipped around your waist from behind.

“Round three,” Sunghoon murmured into your shoulder.

“Already?” you whispered, dazed. “You’re serious?”

“You’re mine now,” he said simply. “I’m never gonna be done.”

You moaned as he pulled you back into his chest, your legs floating around his hips, his hands sliding across your stomach beneath the water.

Then higher.

Until he had your breasts cupped in both palms.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “I’m obsessed.”

You bit your lip, gasping as he started to play with them — thumbs brushing your nipples, squeezing gently like he’d been waiting to get his hands on them all night.

“I always noticed,” he confessed, pressing kisses to the back of your neck. “Every time you stretched in front of me, every time your shirt clung to them when it rained—"

“Sunghoon—”

“—and now they’re mine,” he said, voice rough with need. “So I’m gonna touch them whenever I want.”

His mouth trailed down your neck, then he reached around, shifting you to straddle his lap in the water.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he muttered, lowering his mouth to your chest.

Then he kissed your breasts—slow, wet kisses, tongue flicking across your nipple before he sucked it into his mouth.

You let out a soft moan, your hands burying in his wet hair. He groaned into your skin, pulling your body even closer until your tits were pressed to his face. His voice was muffled. “I could live right here.” You giggled breathlessly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m obsessed,” he corrected, licking again. “Let me worship you.” You felt his cock harden again beneath you, hot and heavy in the water.

“Sunghoon…”

“I’ll be gentle,” he whispered, mouth brushing your chest. “One more. Just one more.”

He reached under the water, lining himself up, and slowly eased you down onto him — warm water swirling around your waists as you sank onto his cock, inch by thick inch.

You both groaned. It felt so full like this. So warm. Slippery. Intimate. His forehead pressed to yours, hands gripping your waist.

“Move for me, baby,” he whispered. “Nice and slow.”

You rolled your hips, riding him gently in the water, the movement easy and fluid with the water supporting your weight. And he couldn’t stop watching your chest.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “Bounce for me, just like that. Look at them—"

Your tits bounced with every movement, droplets clinging to your nipples, glistening under the soft light. His hands returned to them again and again — massaging, squeezing, sucking one into his mouth as you moved on him.

You whined. “You’re too into this—”

“I warned you,” he growled. “They’re mine now.”

Then he grabbed your hips, took over the pace, thrusting up into you as the water splashed gently around you. Slow, deep strokes. His cock dragging against your sensitive walls, your body already so used to him but still twitching at the stretch. You clung to him, lips brushing his. “You feel so good.”

“I want you to cum on my cock like this,” he breathed. “Wanna feel you clench around me again.”

His hand slid between your bodies, thumb brushing over your clit under the water — slow, tight circles until you were gasping again.

“Cum for me, baby,” he whispered against your lips. “While I’m buried inside you. I want to feel it.”

You did. With a broken gasp, body trembling in the bubbling heat, your walls tightened around him, clenching so hard he swore under his breath—

“Fuck—yes—fuck, you’re perfect—”

And then he came too, moaning into your mouth as he spilled inside you again, his arms tightening around you as if he couldn’t let you go. You stayed there, clinging to him, your body spent and warm, water lapping gently against your skin.

He kissed your forehead. Then your nose. Then your boob. Again.

“Seriously?” “What?” he said innocently. “They’re the love of my life now.”

The water steamed around you, warm bubbles churning against your skin as Sunghoon's hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you flush against his hard body. His lips trailed hot kisses down your neck, teeth grazing just enough to send shivers racing through you despite the heat. "Mine" he growled low, voice rough with need, his cock already throbbing against your thigh, slick with the jacuzzi's warmth and his own arousal.

You arched into him, fingers digging into his shoulders as he lifted you slightly, the water sloshing around your waists. His mouth captured yours in a fierce kiss, tongue plunging deep, claiming every inch while one hand slid between your legs. Fingers parted your folds, stroking your clit with firm circles that made you gasp into his mouth. He didn't tease for long—Sunghoon never did when possession burned this hot. Two fingers pushed inside you, curling to hit that spot that had your walls clenching around him.

"Fuck, you're still so wet for me," he murmured against your lips, pumping his fingers faster, thumb grinding your clit. The water made everything slicker, hotter, your body responding with desperate bucks against his hand. But he wasn't done worshipping yet. Withdrawing his fingers, he brought them to your mouth, pressing them past your lips. "Taste yourself. Taste how much you want this." You sucked eagerly, tongue swirling around his digits, eyes locked on his darkened gaze.

Satisfaction flashed in his eyes as he pulled his hand away, replacing it with the thick head of his cock nudging at your entrance. But instead of thrusting in right there, he stood fully, water cascading off his toned chest and abs, muscles flexing as he hauled you up with him. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, the jacuzzi's edge pressing into your back for leverage. "Not like this," he said, voice husky. "I want to fuck you standing, feel every inch of you gripping me while I hold you open."

He shifted, one arm banding around your back to support you, the other guiding his cock. The tip breached you slowly at first, stretching your pussy with that delicious burn as he sank in inch by inch. You moaned, head falling back, the steam-filled air thick with the scent of sex and chlorine. Water lapped at your joined bodies, but it was nothing compared to the heat building where he filled you completely, balls pressing against your ass.

Sunghoon groaned, hips snapping forward in a sharp thrust that buried him to the hilt. "God, yes—tight like this, just for me." He started a rhythm, powerful and unrelenting, each drive lifting you slightly against him, your breasts bouncing with the force. His free hand roamed, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you cry out, then soothing it with his mouth, sucking the peak between his teeth. You clung to him, nails raking down his back, urging him deeper.

The standing position let him angle just right, his cock dragging along your inner walls, hitting your g-spot with every plunge. Water splashed around you as he fucked harder, possessive grunts escaping him. "No one else gets this. No one else fucks you like I do." His pace quickened, hips pistoning, the slap of wet skin echoing in the steamy enclosure. Your pussy fluttered around him, building toward that edge, clit grinding against his pelvis with each thrust.

He sensed it, shifting his hold to free a hand, fingers finding your clit again. He rubbed in tight, fast circles, matching his brutal rhythm. "Cum for me. Milk my cock while I fill you up." The command pushed you over, orgasm crashing through you like a wave, walls spasming as you screamed his name. Sunghoon followed seconds later, thrusting deep one last time, hot cum flooding your pussy in thick spurts. He held you there, both panting, his forehead pressed to yours as the aftershocks rippled through.

But even spent, his grip didn't loosen. "We're not done" he whispered, already hardening inside you again. "I want more".

Sunghoon's cock twitched inside your still-pulsing pussy, the mix of his cum and your juices leaking down your thighs into the bubbling water. He didn't pull out yet, instead rocking his hips in slow, deliberate grinds that kept the friction alive, his mouth crashing back onto yours. The kiss was messy, tongues tangling with renewed hunger, his teeth nipping at your lower lip as he swallowed your whimpers. "You feel that?" he rasped between breaths, one hand cupping your ass to tilt you higher on his shaft. "I'm gonna fuck you until you're ruined for anyone else."

He thrust up again, harder this time, the water churning wildly as he bounced you on his length. Your oversensitive walls clenched around him, every slide sending sparks of pleasure-pain through your core. You gasped into his mouth, breaking the kiss to beg, but he silenced you with another deep plunge, his free hand tangling in your wet hair to yank your head back. His lips attacked your throat, sucking marks into the skin—dark bruises that would linger as proof of his claim.

The rhythm built fast, his hips snapping with possessive force, cock stretching you wide with each entry. Your clit rubbed against his base, the pressure coiling tight despite the fresh ache from your first climax. "That's it, take it all," he growled, fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to bruise. You shattered again sooner than expected, body trembling as another orgasm ripped through you, but he didn't stop. Sunghoon kept pounding, chasing his own release while your pussy fluttered helplessly around him, overstimulated nerves firing wildly.

"Fuck, yes—squeeze me like that," he grunted, finally spilling inside you with a guttural moan, hot ropes of cum painting your walls anew. He held you impaled, panting against your shoulder, but his cock stayed buried deep, semi-hard and insistent. Slowly, he lowered you both back into the jacuzzi, the warm jets massaging your joined bodies as he pulled you onto his lap facing him.

His hands roamed your back, tracing the scratches you'd left earlier, before cupping your face for a slower makeout. Lips brushed softly at first, then deeper, his tongue exploring lazily while his hips shifted beneath you. You felt him thickening again, the third round stirring as he broke the kiss to murmur, "On your knees. Show me how much you need my cock."

You slid down eagerly, the water lapping at your chest as you positioned yourself between his spread thighs. His erection stood proud, veined and glistening with your combined fluids. Wrapping your hand around the base, you leaned in, tongue flicking out to lap at the slit, tasting the salty mix of cum and arousal. Sunghoon's fingers threaded through your hair, guiding you gently at first. "Suck it. Take me deep."

Your lips parted, sliding over the head, hollowing your cheeks as you bobbed down, taking more with each pass. The jacuzzi's bubbles tickled your skin, adding to the sensory overload as you worked him with your mouth—tongue swirling along the underside, hand stroking what you couldn't fit. He groaned, hips bucking slightly, fucking your face with controlled thrusts. "God, your mouth... so fucking good. Look at me while you do it."

Eyes locked on his, darkened with lust, you hummed around his length, the vibration drawing a hiss from him. Saliva dripped down your chin, mixing with the water, as you deepthroated him, throat relaxing to accommodate his girth. His grip tightened, possessive, holding you there for a moment before letting you pull back for air. "Enough." he said hoarsely, hauling you up for another searing kiss, tasting himself on your tongue.

He spun you around then, pressing your back to his chest, legs draped over his as he positioned you. One arm locked around your waist, the other parting your thighs wide. "Spread for me," he commanded, fingers dipping into your soaked pussy, scooping out some of his cum before rubbing it over your clit. You moaned too cock drunk to speak, arching into his touch, but he was already lining up his cock, slamming home in one fluid motion.

This angle let him go deeper, the head of his dick battering your cervix with every upward thrust. Water splashed over the jacuzzi's edge as he fucked you relentlessly, his mouth on your neck, biting and licking. "You're mine to use"he whispered hotly, fingers returning to your clit, pinching and rolling it until you were sobbing with overstimulation. Your body betrayed you, hips grinding back despite the intensity, chasing the building pressure. "Yours only-fuck— yours." You managed to replied back.

He didn't let up, pace brutal, cock dragging against your g-spot with precision. The coil snapped violently—your pussy gushed around him, squirting in forceful arcs that mixed with the jacuzzi water, soaking his thighs. "Fuck, yes—squirt for me, baby," he praised, thrusting through it, prolonging the waves until you were a trembling mess.

Sunghoon came with a roar, flooding you once more, his body shuddering against yours. He held you close through the aftershocks, kisses turning tender, lips brushing your temple, your jaw. "All mine,"he murmured, finally softening and slipping out, cum trickling from your abused pussy.

Exhausted, he lifted you effortlessly, wrapping you in a towel before carrying you to the nearby lounge chair. The steam still hung in the air as he settled beside you, pulling you into his chest. His arms encircled you possessively, one hand stroking your hair as your eyelids grew heavy. "Sleep now" he whispered, voice soft and kissing the top of your head. You drifted off to the rhythm of his heartbeat, safe and claimed in his embrace.

The scent of miso soup and freshly baked melonpan woke you before sunlight did.

You blinked against the soft morning glow spilling in through the patterned blinds.

The mirror above the bed was foggy now from the jacuzzi steam the night before — a quiet, ghostly reminder of everything you’d done in this ridiculous love hotel.

The sheets were wrapped around you like a cocoon, and when you turned over, the space beside you was empty. But only for a second. Because then Sunghoon walked in, shirtless, hair a mess, tray in hand. Room service.

“Good morning, superstar,” he grinned. You sat up slowly, rubbing your eyes. “You ordered food?”

“I ordered everything.”

He plopped the tray down on the bed — steaming rice bowls, tamagoyaki, cut fruit in flower shapes, and melonpan fresh enough that you could smell the butter. Two iced coffees sat sweating in the corner. You blinked. “You remembered melonpan?”

“You moaned about it in your sleep,” he teased, climbing back into bed. You slapped his chest lightly. “You’re lying.”

“Maybe,” he grinned. “Maybe I just like hearing you moan.”

You groaned, flopping face-first into a pillow. “Stop talking.”

He chuckled. “That’s rich, coming from someone who begged me in a fake train room last night.”

You threw the other pillow at him.

He caught it mid-air. “I’m keeping this one. Smells like your shampoo.”

You peeked out from under the sheets, still flushed.

“Are you… always like this in the morning?”

“Only when I wake up with my favorite person naked beside me.”

He leaned over to kiss your cheek.

Then your shoulder. Then your chest.

You shoved him back with a laugh. “Eat your breakfast.” “I’m trying, but my meal’s hiding under all those blankets—ow, okay, I’m done—!”

He handed you a cup of coffee like it was the holy grail. You drank. Grateful. Warm in more ways than one. After a moment of silence, your voice dropped.

“So… this isn’t just a one-time thing, right?”

Sunghoon didn’t hesitate.

“Babe. I came like a dozen times and cried into your neck. You’re not getting rid of me.” You snorted into your cup. He reached across the tray, brushing your fingers with his.

“I mean it. I want you. All the time. After we go home. Even when you’re being annoying.”

You narrowed your eyes. “When am I annoying?”

“Specially when your annoying,” he smiled. He reached for his phone and, without asking, snapped a picture of you wrapped in blankets, coffee cup in hand, cheeks flushed from laughter.

You groaned. “No—delete that—!”

“Nope,” he grinned, adding it to an album. “This is my favorite version of you. Hair messy, barely alive, and mine.”

You went still. Then softly, “Yours?”

He looked up. “Of course.” Then quieter.

“...Always hoped you’d be.” You leaned in and kissed him slow. Sleepy. Full of a new kind of sweetness.

“Okay,” you whispered. “So what now?”

Sunghoon leaned back against the headboard, arm around you.

“We’ll finish the trip,” he said. “Take more pictures. Eat ridiculous food.”

Then, with a cheeky grin:

“See if the other rooms here have different themes. Maybe one with clouds? A plane? Hospital bed—?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Okay, but hear me out—”

You shoved a piece of fruit into his mouth.

He chewed, smug.

Then he laced his fingers through yours.

“I want to do this every year,” he said seriously. “Travel. Get lost. End up somewhere weird.”

“With me?” you whispered.

“With you,” he said. “Always.”

@ tobiosbbyghorl 2026

series taglist: @vissnipherwifeey @jnsknls @tessa365 @acute4angel @seranghaesvt @blueluvies @missoxy @pastahoon @renatojr @katishot147 @nimeah @je-tsime @hyyhwriter @satorus-slut @simjakeyjake @choke-on-flowerz @enaesthetix @ynzyy @chromeheartsquartz @hoonsucker @bkatarina @zsrcx @rikidaze @f-nari @tia-08 @paleunhee @lisie-loves-u @nikidikiy @shadesodc00l @heehee67 @shaiimuraaa @la-choiblog @babbatt @et3rn4lmo0nl1ght @defnoterda @devilish-meangadh

permanent taglist: @ijustwannareadstuff20 @hoonielvv @rjssierjrie @firstclassjaylee @morganaawriterr @rikifever @daisyintherainsposts @kkamismom12 @pocketzlocket @semi-wife @soona-huh @laylasbunbunny @maveysoup @kirakun @aishigrey @multicolorfandoms @celestialensemble @kookiesnkim @lvskjen (open)

[enhypendata]

GENTLE MONSTER CIRCUIT COLLECTION with ENHYPEN JAY (via GQ Korea)

[heebambilee]

I missed and still miss my pretty baby so much :c ♡

[jaylaxies]

my meat started talking to me

[lac4ygal]

SUNFLOWER — s.jy

-ˋˏ⚘ pairing: jake sim x female reader

-ˋˏ⚘ genre: neighbors to lovers · single dad au · fluff · angst · smut · found family · slow burn

-ˋˏ⚘ summary: You have lived in apartment 3B for two years. You know your neighbors the way you know background characters — familiar, unremarkable, just part of the scenery. Which is why it’s strange that you’ve never properly noticed the man in 3A. Until 6:58 on a Tuesday morning when someone knocks on your door and you open it to find not him, but her. Small. Round-cheeked. Duck pajamas. Absolutely certain of herself. You fall for his daughter first. Jake is just the complication that comes after. But god, what a complication.

-ˋˏ⚘ word count: 21.1k

-ˋˏ⚘ content warnings: explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, oral sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, praise kink, soft dom/sub undertones, strong language, single parent theme, child abandonment (mother leaving), brief parental guilt, an absent parent reappearing, emotional manipulation attempt, jealousy, mention of custody, legal procedure, alcohol, crying, found family theme, a toddler who will ruin your life in the best way

-ˋˏ⚘ song: You Are The Best Thing by Ray LaMontage

-ˋˏ⚘ authors note: i started this fic because i wanted to write a soft single dad jake but the mia took over everything, she was supposed to be a supporting character but how can i make someone that cute not a main. she picked reader first and she always knew and i think that’s the whole story. jake deserved softness. reader deserved to be chosen. mia deserved a mama who showed up. everyone got what they deserved. if you’re reading this — thank you. comments, reblogs, feedback and likes keep me writing and i am so serious about that. enjoy💛

-ˋˏ⚘ my masterlist

You have lived in Apartment 3B of Wattle Grove Building for two years. You know Mrs. Kim in 1A leaves her recycling out on the wrong day every single week without fail. You know the guy in 2C plays guitar badly but enthusiastically every Sunday morning. You know the building super Danny will fix anything you need as long as you leave a coffee outside your door first.

You know your neighbors the way you know background characters in a movie you’ve seen too many times. Familiar. Unremarkable. Just part of the scenery.

Which is why it’s strange that you’ve never properly noticed the man in 3A. You’ve seen him, obviously. In passing. At the mailboxes. Once in the car park when you were both leaving at the same time and did that awkward thing where you both reached for the door simultaneously and then laughed and said sorry at the same time. He’s tall. Dark hair. Has a nice face in the vague way that you register nice faces without really looking at them.

He moved in about eight months ago. Keeps to himself. Quiet. You’ve never heard a peep through the wall you share, which you appreciate deeply after two years of listening to the previous tenant’s aggressive taste in late night television. You know his name is Jake because it’s on the mailbox.

That’s it. That’s the extent of your knowledge of the man in 3A. Until 6:58 on a Tuesday morning when someone knocks on your door.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

You are not a morning person. You are, in fact, the opposite of a morning person. You are someone who sets four alarms and ignores three of them and considers getting out of bed before eight a personal attack. Your first class doesn’t start until ten. You were planning to sleep until at least eight thirty, mainline coffee until nine, and leave with approximately four minutes to spare.

So when someone knocks on your door at 6:58 AM you lie there for a full thirty seconds convincing yourself you imagined it. Then it happens again. Small. Rhythmic. Insistent. knock knock knock

You groan into your pillow. Drag yourself upright. Pull on the hoodie hanging off your desk chair and shuffle to the door, hair catastrophic, eyes barely open, prepared to be deeply unpleasant to whoever is on the other side.

You open the door. There is no one there. You blink. Look left. Look right. The hallway is empty and quiet and— “Hi.”

You look down. There is a child sitting on the floor outside your door. She is approximately three years old, round-cheeked and bright-eyed, wearing a yellow pajama set covered in tiny ducks. Her dark hair is escaping from two lopsided pigtails. She has a serious expression on her face like she has somewhere important to be and is merely pausing here briefly.

She is, without any competition, the most adorable thing you have ever seen in your entire life. You stare at her. She stares back. “Hi,” she says again, very patient, like she’s giving you time to catch up.

“Hi,” you manage. “Um. Who are you?”

She considers this question with great seriousness. “Mia.”

“Okay. Hi Mia.” You look up and down the empty hallway again. “Where did you come from?” She points at the door directly across from yours. 3A. “Are you—” You crouch down to her level. “Did you come out of your apartment by yourself?”

“Mr. Bunny is lost,” she explains, as if this answers everything. And apparently, in her world, it does. She stands up, remarkably steady on her feet for someone so small, and peers past you into your apartment with undisguised curiosity. “Is he in there?”

“Is who— Mr. Bunny? I don’t think so, sweetheart. I haven’t seen any—”

“Can I look?”

“I— well—” She’s already walking past you into your apartment.

You stand in your doorway, blinking slowly, watching a three year old you have never met toddle into your living room and start investigating with the focused energy of a tiny detective. She checks under the coffee table. Behind the couch cushions. She picks up one of your throw pillows, examines it, puts it back. “He’s not here,” she announces, sounding genuinely disappointed.

“I’m sorry.” You’re fully awake now, adrenaline doing what four alarms couldn’t. “Mia, does your dad know where you are?”

She looks at you. Blinks. And then, for the first time, something flickers across her face that isn’t complete confidence. Something small and uncertain. “Daddy’s sleeping,” she says quietly.

Oh no. Oh no.

“Okay,” you say, very carefully, going into full calm adult mode even though internally you are having a minor crisis. “Okay, that’s okay. Let’s go wake daddy up, yeah?”

You take her hand — she gives it to you immediately, tiny fingers wrapping around yours with complete trust, and something in your chest does something weird and unexpected — and you walk her across the hall to 3A.

You knock. Nothing. You knock louder. A crash. Muffled swearing. Footsteps. The door flies open.

Jake Sim, your neighbor from 3A, looks absolutely terrible. He’s in gray sweatpants and no shirt, hair destroyed, eyes wild with the specific panic of a parent who has woken up to find their child missing. There’s a pillow crease down his left cheek. He looks like a man who has just experienced the worst thirty seconds of his life.

He looks down at Mia standing beside you, her hand still in yours, looking up at him with the expression of someone who has done absolutely nothing wrong. The relief that crosses his face is so profound it’s almost painful to witness. “Mia.” His voice comes out wrecked. He drops to his knees right there in the doorway, gathering her up, holding her against his chest. She pats his back tolerantly. “Mia, I— you can’t— how did you—”

“I was looking for Mr. Bunny,” she explains into his shoulder, very reasonable.

“You can’t leave the apartment by yourself, baby, I’ve told you—”

“But Mr. Bunny—”

“I don’t care about Mr. Bunny right now—”

“Daddy.” She pulls back to look at him, deeply offended. “Mr. Bunny cares.”

You press your lips together very hard to keep from smiling. Jake looks up at you over Mia’s head, and he looks so mortified you almost feel sorry for him. Almost. It would be easier to feel sorry for him if he didn’t look — even rumpled and panicked and creased from sleep — really quite unfairly attractive. You file that observation away to examine later, when a child is not present.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “I’m so, so sorry, she’s never done this before, I don’t know how she got the door open—”

“She knocked,” you tell him. “Very politely.”

He closes his eyes briefly. “Oh god.”

“I used my reaching stool,” Mia informs him helpfully. “For the handle.”

“We’re getting rid of the reaching stool,” Jake tells her.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Daddy, no—”

“Mia.” He pulls back to look at her properly, and his voice goes soft but serious. “You scared me. Really scared me, okay? You cannot leave without waking me up first. Ever. Do you understand?”

She looks at him. Her lip wobbles, just slightly. “I just wanted Mr. Bunny.”

“I know, baby.” He pulls her back in, pressing a kiss to her hair. “I know. But you have to wake me up. Promise me.”

“Promise,” she mumbles into his neck.

He holds her for another moment, and you feel like you’re witnessing something private. Something that belongs to them. You take a small step back. “I’ll let you—”

“Wait.” Jake stands, Mia on his hip, and looks at you with an expression that’s somehow equal parts exhausted and sincere. “I really am sorry. And thank you. Genuinely, thank you for— I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if she’d gone downstairs instead of just across the hall.”

“She was perfectly safe,” you say. “She was very focused on her investigation.”

“Mr. Bunny is lost,” Mia reminds both of you gravely.

“We’ll find him,” Jake tells her. Then to you: “I’m Jake, by the way. Since apparently we’ve been neighbors for eight months and I’ve never actually introduced myself, which is—”

“Terrible,” you supply.

“Yeah.” He winces. “Yeah, it really is. I’m sorry about that too.”

“Y/N,” you tell him. “3B.”

“I know. I’ve seen your name on the mailbox.” He shifts Mia on his hip. She has turned to look at you with renewed interest, the Mr. Bunny crisis temporarily suspended. “I kept meaning to knock and introduce myself properly but then time just—”

“It does that,” you agree.

He smiles. It’s a tired smile, still coming down from the panic, but it’s genuine. It does something to his face that you also file away for later. Mia is still staring at you. “You have pretty hair,” she announces.

“Mia—” Jake starts.

“Thank you,” you tell her seriously. “Yours is very pretty too.”

She reaches up and touches one of her lopsided pigtails, considering. “Daddy did it,” she says, with the tone of someone being very diplomatic about a disappointing situation.

You look at Jake. He looks back at you. The pigtails are genuinely quite bad. “I’m working on it,” he says.

“We could—” You stop yourself. You don’t even know this man. You’ve spoken to him for approximately four minutes. “Never mind.”

“No, what?”

“I was just going to say I could show you. If you wanted. It’s not— it’s easy once you know the trick.” You gesture vaguely. “But you probably have things to—”

“I would love that,” Jake says immediately. “Genuinely. Every morning is a disaster. She came home from daycare last week and her teacher had written a note that said ‘we love Mia’s creative hairstyles’ and I’m pretty sure that was a polite way of saying—”

“Daddy can’t do hair,” Mia explains to you, very straightforward.

“I cannot do hair,” Jake confirms.

You laugh. Actually laugh, fully awake now, standing in the hallway at seven in the morning in your old hoodie with your own hair catastrophic, and it surprises you a little. How easy it is. How natural. “Come over tomorrow morning,” you find yourself saying. “Before daycare. I’ll show you a couple of things.”

Jake looks at you like you’ve offered him something much more significant than a hair tutorial. “You don’t have to—”

“I know.” You crouch down to Mia’s level. “I hope you find Mr. Bunny.”

She studies you with those serious dark eyes. Then she reaches out and puts her small hand on your cheek, very gentle, the way toddlers sometimes do when they’re deciding something important about you. “You’re nice,” she declares.

“So are you,” you tell her. She nods, satisfied, like this has confirmed something she already suspected.

Then she tucks her face back into Jake’s neck, done with the interaction, and Jake gives you a helpless sort of smile over her head. “Thank you,” he says again. “Really.”

“Anytime.” You stand up and take a step back toward your own door. “And Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe put a chain lock on. Up high. Before tonight.”

He looks at the door. Looks at Mia. Looks back at you with the expression of a man who has just realized how many things there are to think about when you’re doing this alone. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Yeah, good call.”

You don’t go back to sleep. You make coffee and sit on your couch and think about the way Mia put her hand on your cheek like she was taking your measure. The way she gave you her hand without hesitating, tiny fingers trusting yours completely.

The way Jake held her when he found her safe. Like she was the most important thing in the world, which she obviously was, which was obvious in every single line of his body.

You think about his apartment, which you caught a glimpse of through the open door. The small pair of shoes by the entrance. The sticker on the light switch at toddler height. The general chaos of someone who is managing, but only just. You think about the note from the daycare teacher and the terrible pigtails and the way he said I’m working on it without a single drop of self pity.

You finish your coffee. Make another one. You have a feeling that next door is going to become a lot more complicated than background noise and a name on a mailbox.

You’re not sure yet if that’s a good thing. But when you close your eyes you can still feel the ghost of small fingers wrapped around yours and you think— yeah. Yeah, you’re probably already in trouble.

Mr. Bunny turns up two days later. He is in the freezer. Neither Jake nor Mia can explain how he got there.

You laugh about it for five minutes straight when Jake texts you, and then you look at your phone and realize you’ve been texting your neighbor for two days like it’s completely normal and you’ve known him for years. You put your phone down. Pick it up again. Type back: at least he’s preserved.

Jake sends back a string of crying laughing emojis and then: Mia wants me to tell you that Mr. Bunny says thank you for looking for him

You smile so hard your face hurts. You are, you realize, completely and utterly done for. And you haven’t even properly met him yet.

The hair tutorial happens on Wednesday morning. You hear them before you see them — Mia’s voice carrying clearly through the wall at seven fifteen, a stream of cheerful commentary about something, Jake’s lower voice responding, the particular domestic chaos of someone trying to get a toddler ready for daycare on a schedule. Then a knock at your door.

You open it to find Jake holding Mia like a football under one arm, a hairbrush in his free hand, and the expression of a man who has already lost this morning’s battle comprehensively.

Mia is upside down and completely unbothered. “Hi,” she says, from her inverted position.

“Hi,” you say. You step back and open the door wider. “Come in.”

They troop inside, Jake setting Mia down on her feet in your living room where she immediately begins a thorough reinvestigation of the space, picking up where she left off two days ago. She examines your bookshelf. Touches the small succulent on your windowsill very gently with one finger. “Plant,” she observes.

“His name is Gerald,” you tell her.

She looks at you. Looks at Gerald. Looks back at you with the gravity of someone receiving important information. “Hi Gerald,” she says politely. Jake makes a sound that might be him trying not to laugh.

“Okay.” You take the hairbrush from him. “Sit her up on the couch and I’ll show you.”

What follows is twenty minutes that you will think about for the rest of the week for reasons you can’t entirely explain.

Mia sits between your knees on the couch, remarkably patient once she’s settled, holding Gerald the succulent in her lap because she asked and you said yes and Jake gave you a look that suggested he has learned to pick his battles. You work through her hair slowly, showing Jake each step — how to section it, how to hold the hair so it doesn’t pull, how to make the pigtails sit even.

He watches with the focused attention of someone who is genuinely trying to learn this. Not just nodding along but asking questions, asking you to slow down, watching your hands. At one point he leans in close to see what you’re doing and you’re very aware of how near he is and the fact that he smells like clean laundry and something warm underneath.

You focus on Mia’s hair. “The trick,” you tell him, “is that you do both sides before you tie either one off. Otherwise the first one pulls when you do the second.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing wrong,” he says. He sounds genuinely relieved, like you’ve solved something that’s been bothering him for months. Which, apparently, you have. “I couldn’t work out why they always went lopsided.”

“They were very lopsided,” Mia agrees pleasantly.

“Thanks, Mia.”

“You’re welcome, Daddy.”

You finish, tying off the second pigtail with the elastic, and smooth a hand over her hair. Perfect and even and neat. She reaches up and touches them carefully. “Pretty?” she asks.

“Very pretty,” you confirm.

She twists to look up at you, satisfied. Then she holds Gerald out. “You can have him back.”

“Thank you for taking care of him.”

“He was scared,” she explains seriously. “He doesn’t know me yet.” She places him very carefully back on the windowsill, patting the pot once. “It’s okay Gerald. I’m nice.”

Jake is watching his daughter with this expression — quiet and soft and a little undone at the edges — and when he catches you looking at him he clears his throat and looks away. Picks up the hairbrush from the cushion beside him. “Right,” he says. “We should get going. Daycare at eight.”

“Nooooo,” Mia says, without any real conviction. She’s already moving toward the door with the pragmatic acceptance of someone who knows the schedule.

“Thank you,” Jake says to you. He means it. You can tell he means it in that way where the words are bigger than they sound. “Seriously. This was—”

“It’s just pigtails.”

“It’s not just—” He stops. Starts again. “She talks about you. Since Tuesday. You’re the pretty lady from across the hall.”

Your face warms. “That’s very generous of her.”

“She’s got good taste.” He says it simply, matter of fact, and then looks slightly like he didn’t mean to say it quite like that. “I mean— she’s a good judge of character. Generally.”

“Y/N,” Mia calls from the doorway where she is putting her shoes on the wrong feet with great confidence.

“Yeah?”

She looks up at you. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

Something squeezes in your chest. “Yeah, I’ll be here.”

She nods, satisfied, like this is settled. Like you have made a commitment and she is holding you to it. Then she holds her foot up at Jake. “Daddy. Shoes.”

Jake crouches down to fix them, and you lean against your doorframe and watch, and you think about what Liv said to you once about knowing when something is going to change your life. How you can feel it sometimes. The specific weight of a moment that’s about to matter.

You feel it now, watching Jake tie his daughter’s shoes in your doorway at seven forty in the morning while she holds your door handle for balance and hums something tuneless to herself. You feel it, and you file it away with everything else, and you tell yourself it’s too early for any of this and you need coffee.

You leave cookies outside 3A that afternoon. You don’t examine why. You made a batch because you were stress baking about an assignment and you made too many and they were just sitting there and Jake mentioned once — in the mailbox, months ago, one of those nothing conversations you’d forgotten until now — that Mia liked anything with chocolate.

You leave them outside the door in a container with a post it note that says for Mia (and you, if you want) and then you go back inside and finish your assignment and don’t think about it.

At nine fifteen that night your phone buzzes: jake 3a: she ate four before I could stop her and is now absolutely feral and won’t sleep. I’m blaming you

You grin at your phone. you: that’s fair

jake 3a: they were really good though like genuinely really good. Did you make them from scratch?

you: yes

jake 3a: of course you did

jake 3a: I’m sorry, I don’t know what that means, that came out weird. I just mean they were better than anything I could make. I’m a terrible baker.

you: how terrible?

jake 3a: I made Mia a birthday cake in August and it came out flat and she cried

you: oh no

jake 3a: not because of the cake. She thought it was funny. She cried laughing. It was actually one of the best moments of my life which probably tells you everything about my standards right now

You’re smiling at your phone like an idiot. you: I’ll make the cake next time. You send it before you’ve fully decided to, and then stare at it. It’s October. You’ve just committed to being in this man’s life until at least next August.

Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again. jake 3a: you really don’t have to

you: I want to. she told Gerald not to be scared because she was nice. I feel like she deserves a good birthday cake.

jake 3a: yeah she really does

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The drawing appears under your door on Thursday morning. You almost step on it when you come out of your bedroom, a folded piece of paper on your doormat. You pick it up and unfold it and find a crayon drawing — several figures of varying heights and proportions, all labeled in Jake’s handwriting because Mia clearly directed and he transcribed.

Mia. Daddy. Gerald. Mr Bunny. And then, on the end, slightly larger than the others, with yellow crayon hair: Y/N. She’s drawn you into her family portrait.

You stand in your kitchen holding a crayon drawing with yellow-haired you standing next to a rectangle that is apparently Gerald and you feel something crack open in your chest so softly and so completely that you have to sit down.

You take a photo of it. You put the original on your fridge. You text Jake a photo of it on the fridge and he doesn’t respond for ten minutes and when he does it just says: jake 3a: she worked on it for an hour last night

jake 3a: kept starting over because she wanted to get your hair right

You stare at that message for a long time. you: tell her I love it

jake 3a: she’s going to lose her mind. also she asked if you want to come to the park with us Saturday

Three dots. Then: jake 3a: I want that too, for what it’s worth. If you’re free.

You look at the drawing on your fridge. Yellow-haired you, standing in a row with Mia and Daddy and Gerald and Mr. Bunny like you’ve always been there. you: I’m free Saturday

Saturday at the park is easy in a way that surprises you. You’d half expected it to be awkward — the three of you, still essentially strangers, trying to fill silence in an open space. But Mia eliminates the possibility of silence entirely. She has opinions about the swings (good), the slide (excellent, requires multiple repetitions), and the ducks by the small pond at the park’s edge (deeply suspicious, do not approach).

“They’re just ducks,” Jake tells her.

“They’re watching,” she says.

“They’re not watching.”

“Daddy.” She gives him a very patient look. “They are watching.”

Jake looks at you. You shrug. “They do look pretty focused,” you offer.

He points at you. “Don’t encourage her.”

Mia takes your hand and pulls you toward the swings, away from the ducks and away from Jake’s protests, and you go because she’s three and determined and her hand is in yours and you’ve decided that’s reason enough for basically anything at this point.

You push her on the swings while Jake sits on the bench nearby, and you watch him watching the two of you. He has his elbows on his knees and his face is open in a way you’re starting to learn is rare for him — in a crowd or with strangers he goes carefully neutral, pleasant but contained. But here, watching Mia go higher and higher and shriek with delight, he looks unguarded. Younger, somehow. Like something in him relaxes when it’s just the three of you. “Higher!” Mia demands.

“You’re already very high,” you tell her.

“Higher.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Please.”

“Nice try.”

She cackles. Pure delighted toddler sound, head thrown back. And you find yourself laughing too, pushing her at this very reasonable height, and when you look over at Jake he’s smiling at you with an expression you don’t quite have a name for yet. You look away first.

After the swings, Mia finds a stick, which becomes the most important object in the world for the next twenty minutes. She examines rocks. She makes Jake carry her on his shoulders. She falls asleep on the walk home with her cheek on his head and one fist clutching his jacket, completely unconscious, utterly trusting.

Jake walks carefully, holding her legs, talking to you in a low voice so he doesn’t wake her. “She doesn’t do this with many people,” he says.

“Fall asleep?”

“Trust people.” He adjusts his grip on her. “She’s friendly, obviously, she’ll talk to anyone. But she doesn’t— she doesn’t hold hands with people she doesn’t know. She doesn’t draw people.” He pauses. “She drew you in four days.”

You don’t know what to say to that. So you say, “she’s special.”

“Yeah.” His voice is quiet. “She really is.”

You walk in silence for a moment, the easy kind. “How long has it been?” you ask. “Just the two of you.”

He doesn’t tense the way you half expect him to. Just exhales, slow and steady. “Since she was four months old. Her mom left.” He says it flat, without bitterness, which somehow makes it worse. Like he’s had a long time to practice saying it that way. “Just— left. Packed a bag while I was at work. By the time I got home it was just us.”

“Jake—”

“It’s fine now.” He glances at you sideways. “It wasn’t, for a long time. But it’s fine now. It’s good, actually. It’s really good.” He looks up at Mia’s sleeping face. “She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I didn’t know it was possible to love someone this much.”

You look at him. At the way he holds her. At the careful tenderness of it. “She knows,” you say softly. He looks at you. “That she’s loved like that. You can tell.” You hold his gaze. “She knows.”

Something moves through his expression. Quick and unguarded and gone before you can name it. “Thanks,” he says quietly.

You walk the rest of the way home in comfortable silence, Mia asleep above you, the afternoon sun going golden through the trees lining the street. It is, you think, a very good Saturday.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

It becomes a routine without either of you deciding it should. Wednesday mornings, Jake knocks with the hairbrush. You do Mia’s hair while she holds Gerald and narrates her thoughts about the day ahead. Jake makes coffee in your kitchen like he knows where everything is, which after three weeks he does.

Saturdays are the park, or the farmers market two streets over, or just the three of you on one of your balconies eating whatever Jake has cooked because it turns out that while he cannot bake to save his life he is an genuinely excellent cook and he seems to enjoy having someone to cook for.

Evenings sometimes, when Mia’s in bed and Jake knocks quietly and you sit on his couch and watch something and talk about nothing in particular until one of you falls asleep.

It is domestic and soft and easy. It is also, you are increasingly aware, becoming something that would hurt to lose.

Mia calls you her Y/N now. Not just Y/N. Her Y/N, possessive and certain, the way she says her daddy and her Mr. Bunny and her Gerald. You are hers in her taxonomy of the world and the certainty of it does something to your chest every single time.

She tells the woman at the bakery you buy her the jam scroll she likes every Saturday. She tells a child at the park. She tells Mrs. Kim from 1A who coos and looks between you and Jake with an expression that makes Jake find something fascinating to look at on the middle distance.

You’re folding laundry in your apartment on a Thursday evening, three weeks in, when Jake knocks. You open the door. He’s holding two containers of leftover pasta, still warm. He holds one out. “Made too much,” he says.

You take it. Step back to let him in. This is how it goes now. “Mia asleep?” you ask.

“Out cold. She had daycare and then apparently spent an hour reorganizing her stuffed animals by color.” He sits on your couch. “It took everything she had.”

You sit beside him, open the pasta. It’s good — it’s always good. “Did the reorganization meet her standards?”

“She made me come and approve it before bed.” He pauses. “Mr. Bunny is in the orange section even though he’s gray.”

“He has warm undertones,” you say seriously.

Jake looks at you. Starts laughing. Not the polite laugh of someone being friendly but the real one, the one that takes over his whole face, and you’ve been cataloguing that laugh for weeks now, the way it comes out surprised sometimes like he forgot he was allowed to do it.

You’re laughing too, both of you over toddler stuffed animal color theory at eight PM with pasta containers in your laps, and when the laughter settles it leaves something warm and quiet in its place.

Jake is looking at you. Not the quick sideways glances you’ve been trading for weeks. Really looking, steady and open, and you feel it the way you feel a change in weather. The pressure of it. The way the air shifts. “Y/N,” he says.

“Yeah?”

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Looks down at his pasta container, turning it in his hands. “Nothing. Never mind. It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.”

He looks at you again and this time he doesn’t look away. “I really like spending time with you.”

You hold his gaze. “I really like spending time with you too.”

“I haven’t—” He exhales. “I haven’t wanted to spend time with someone like this in a long time. Maybe ever. And I don’t know what to do with that.”

The honesty of it lands softly. No performance, no deflection. Just him, telling you the truth. “I don’t either,” you say. “But I don’t think I want to stop.”

He looks at you for a long moment. Then he leans in, slow and deliberate, giving you every opportunity to pull back. You don’t pull back.

His mouth finds yours, gentle at first, questioning, and then you lean into it and it stops being a question. It’s warm and unhurried and it tastes like the pasta and something underneath that is just him, and when you finally break apart you’re both quiet, foreheads almost touching.

“Okay,” he says softly.

“Okay,” you agree.

He pulls back just slightly. His expression is open and a little nervous and more serious than the moment requires, or maybe exactly as serious as it requires. “I need to say something,” he says.

“Okay.”

“If we—” He pauses, choosing his words. “Whatever this is. Whatever it becomes. Mia comes first. Always. That’s non negotiable for me. I need you to know that going in.”

You look at him. At the set of his jaw, the quiet certainty in his eyes. A man who has built his whole life around a three year old with lopsided pigtails and a stuffed rabbit and absolute confidence in the people she decides are hers. “Jake,” you say.

“Yeah.”

“I know.” You hold his gaze. “I love her. She’s— she put her hand on my face the first morning and I was gone. I was completely gone.” You shake your head a little. “I think I fell for her before I even fell for you.”

Something moves across his face. Deep and quiet and undone.“Yeah?” he says, and his voice is rough at the edges.

“Yeah.” He kisses you again. Softer this time. Like something has been settled, like the last lock has clicked open. His hand comes up to cup your jaw and you lean into it and outside the window the city is doing whatever cities do at eight o’clock on a Thursday and in here it is warm and quiet and it feels, very specifically, like the beginning of something.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The first time Mia is at the babysitter’s overnight, it’s an accident.

Not the overnight part — that’s planned. Sandy, Mia’s regular babysitter three streets over, has been asking for weeks if she can have Mia for a sleepover because her own grandchildren are visiting and Mia and the youngest, a boy named Theo, have formed the specific intense friendship that only exists between toddlers who have decided they are best friends after forty five minutes together at a playground.

Jake agrees because Mia asks with her whole body, bouncing on her toes, and because Sandy has been his lifeline for two and a half years and he trusts her completely. What’s accidental is what happens after.

He drops Mia off at four on a Friday afternoon. You’re not there — you have a late class — but when you get home at six thirty and knock on 3A because it’s become reflex, Jake opens the door and the apartment is quiet in a way it never is.

You’ve been in this apartment dozens of times now. You know its sounds. The particular creak of the second floorboard in the hall. The way the kitchen tap needs an extra turn to stop dripping. The constant ambient noise of Mia — her commentary, her singing, her negotiations with various stuffed animals about bedtime.

The silence is enormous. “Weird, right?” Jake says, reading your face.

“Really weird.” You step inside. “How long has she been gone?”

“Two hours.” He closes the door. “I’ve cleaned the whole apartment and reorganized the pantry and I don’t know what to do with myself.”

You look at the pantry, which is indeed immaculate. You look at Jake, who is in dark jeans and a simple white t-shirt and looks simultaneously very attractive and genuinely a little lost. “Have you eaten?” you ask.

“No.”

“Cook me something.”

Something in him settles. He moves into the kitchen, and you sit on the counter the way you’ve started doing, and he makes pasta — different from the other night, something with lemon and herbs — and you open the wine you brought from your apartment and it is easy, it is so easy, the way everything with him has become easy without you noticing it happening.

You eat at his kitchen table. You talk about your classes and his current project — branding for a new café opening in the city — and the book you’ve both apparently been meaning to read for months and never have. You talk about Mia, because you always talk about Mia, about the things she’s said recently that have floored you both. “She told me yesterday,” Jake says, “that she wants to be a paleontologist.”

“She’s three.”

“I know. I asked her what a paleontologist was and she said ‘a person who finds old bones’ and I have no idea where she learned that word.”

“That’s— that’s genuinely impressive.”

“She then said she also wants to be a cat.” He takes a sip of wine. “So. Range.” You’re laughing, and he’s laughing, and the kitchen is warm and the wine is good and at some point the laughter fades and you’re just looking at each other in the quiet.

It’s been two weeks since the kiss on your couch. Two weeks of nothing changing and everything changing — the same routine, the same easy rhythm, but with this new current running underneath it. His hand finding yours sometimes. The way he says goodbye now, at the door, that takes longer than it used to. The awareness of him that hums in your chest constantly, warm and insistent.

You haven’t had a night without Mia before. You’re both aware of it. “Y/N,” he says.

“Yeah.”

“Can I—” He stops. Starts again. His jaw works slightly, that tell you’ve learned. “I’ve been thinking about this. About us. And I want to— I want to do this properly. Take you on an actual date, not just—” He gestures at the table, the apartment, the comfortable domesticity of it. “Not just this. You deserve—”

“Jake.” You set down your glass. “I like this.”

“I know, but—”

“I mean I really like this.” You hold his gaze. “I don’t need a restaurant. I don’t need— I just want you. This. Whatever this is.” He looks at you for a long moment.

Then he pushes back from the table and crosses to you and kisses you like he’s been thinking about it all evening, one hand cupping your jaw, the other finding your waist. You slide off the counter and into him and he makes a low sound against your mouth that does something devastating to your concentration. “Stay tonight,” he says against your lips.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Okay.”

You end up on his bed.

It happens slowly, the way things happen when there’s no rush, when the whole night stretches ahead and neither of you is going anywhere. He takes his time, unhurried and thorough, like he wants to learn you. Like you’re something worth learning.

He lays you back against his pillows and looks at you for a moment, just looks, and something about being seen like that — careful and wanting and completely focused — makes heat pool low in your stomach before he’s even touched you. “Hi,” he says softly.

“Hi,” you say back.

He leans down and kisses you again, and it’s different from the doorway kisses and the couch kisses. Deeper. More deliberate. His hand slides up your side, pushing your shirt up, warm palm against your skin, and you shiver.“Cold?” he murmurs.

“Opposite.” He smiles against your mouth. Keeps moving, finding the hem of your shirt, and you lift your arms and let him pull it off. He sits back to look at you, and his expression is so openly appreciative, so uncomplicated in its wanting, that you feel heat rise to your face.

“Don’t,” he says quietly.

“Don’t what?”

“Look away.” His thumb traces your collarbone. “I want to look at you.” You keep his gaze. He keeps his.

He gets rid of his own shirt and you run your hands up his chest, his stomach, the way you’ve been wanting to since— longer than you’ll admit. He’s warm and solid and he watches your face as you touch him like your expression is telling him something important.

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing.” He catches your hands, pins them gently above your head, leans down to press his mouth to your jaw. Your neck. The soft skin below your ear. “Just thinking about how long I’ve been wanting this.”

“How long?”

He mouths at your pulse point and you gasp, arching up. “Longer than I should admit,” he murmurs. “Probably since the morning with Mia. You opened the door half asleep with terrible hair and you crouched down and talked to her like she was a real person and I thought—” He lifts his head to look at you. “I thought I was in serious trouble.”

“Your daughter was upside down under your arm,” you manage.

“I know. Terrible timing.” He releases your wrists, hands moving to the button of your jeans. “Is this okay?”

“Yes. God, yes.”

He undresses you slowly, pressing his mouth to each new piece of skin like punctuation. The inside of your wrist. Your hip. The soft skin of your inner thigh that makes you grip the sheets and breathe out his name. He looks up at you from there, chin resting on your thigh, expression somewhere between fond and wrecked. “Jake—”

“I’ve got you,” he says quietly. “Okay? I’ve got you.” And then his mouth is on you and your head falls back and you stop being able to think in complete sentences.

He takes his time the way he does everything — with complete attention, reading every sound you make, every shift of your hips, adjusting until he finds exactly what makes you come apart. He slides one finger inside you and then two, curling them just right while his tongue works your clit in slow, devastating circles, and you fist your hand in his hair and try to remember how to breathe.

“Jake— fuck— I’m—”

He doesn’t speed up. Doesn’t change what he’s doing. Just keeps that perfect steady rhythm like he has all the time in the world, like getting you there is the only thing on his agenda, and you come with your thighs clamped around his head and his name on your lips and it crashes through you in waves that don’t seem to stop.

He works you through every second of it, only easing off when you tug at his hair, oversensitive and shaking.

He moves up your body, pressing a kiss to your stomach, your sternum, your mouth. You can taste yourself on him and somehow that makes heat flare through you all over again. “Hi,” he says again, soft and amused.

“You,” you manage, “are very good at that.”

“Yeah?” He looks pleased.

“Don’t get smug about it.”

“I’m not smug.” He is a little smug. You find you don’t mind. “You okay?”

“More than okay.” You reach up, pull him down to kiss him properly, deep and unhurried. “Your turn.”

You get his jeans off, and his boxers, and you wrap your hand around him and he hisses through his teeth, hips jerking slightly.“Sorry—”

“Don’t apologize,” you tell him. You stroke him slowly, learning the weight of him, and he drops his forehead to yours and just breathes. “Tell me what you like.”

“That,” he says roughly. “Exactly that. Just—” He covers your hand with his, adjusts the pressure slightly. “Yeah. Like that.”

You watch his face — the way his jaw goes tight, the way his eyes flutter. He’s trying to stay composed and not quite managing it and you find that incredibly satisfying. “Y/N.” His voice has gone rough. “I want— can I—”

“Yes,” you say. “Please.”

He reaches into his nightstand drawer. You take the condom from him and roll it on yourself, slowly, which makes him close his eyes and exhale hard through his nose.“You’re going to kill me,” he says.

“You’ll be fine.”

He settles between your thighs and you feel him there, pressing in, and you both go still for a moment. He pushes forward, slow and careful, watching your face, and the stretch of him makes you exhale hard, fingers pressing into his shoulders. He stops halfway, checking. “Good?” he asks.

“So good.” You shift your hips, urging him on. “Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t stop. He seats himself fully and you both breathe through it, foreheads together, and then he starts to move and everything else falls away.

He fucks you slowly at first, deep and thorough, finding the angle that makes you gasp and then staying with it. His hand slides between your bodies, thumb finding your clit, and you make a sound that you’d be embarrassed about in any other context.“There?” he asks.

“There,” you confirm breathlessly.

He keeps going. Steady and focused and impossibly good, hitting that spot inside you on every stroke while his thumb works you in tight circles, and you can already feel it building again, embarrassingly fast. “Jake— fuck— already—”

“Let go,” he says against your temple. “I want to feel you.”

You come clenching around him, and he groans deep in his chest, the rhythm stuttering, and you feel him follow you over with your name on his lips, buried deep, shaking.

Afterward you lie tangled together in the quiet. He traces absent patterns on your arm. You listen to his heartbeat slow. “Hey,” he says eventually.

“Hey.”

“That was—”

“Yeah.” You tilt your head up. “It really was.” He presses a kiss to your hair. You feel him smile against it.

Outside, the city is doing its Friday night thing, indifferent and ongoing. In here the lamp is warm and the sheets are soft and Jake’s heartbeat is steady under your cheek and you think about the drawing on your fridge and the hand on your cheek and Mr. Bunny in the freezer and all the ordinary extraordinary things that have built this without you quite realizing. “Stay,” he says.

“I’m already here.”

“I mean—” He tightens his arm around you. “Stay. Not just tonight.”

You’re quiet for a moment. “You’re going to have to define that.”

“I know.” His thumb moves slow on your arm. “I’m working up to it.”

“Okay.” You settle back against him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Mia comes home at eleven the next morning. You’re still there.

You’re in Jake’s kitchen making coffee, wearing his hoodie and your underwear, when the front door opens and Sandy’s voice floats through — “here we are, my love, home sweet home” — and small feet thunder down the hall.

Mia appears in the kitchen doorway. She takes in the scene. You, in her daddy’s hoodie. The two coffee cups. The general evidence of your presence. Her face does something complicated and then completely simple. “My Y/N,” she says, delighted, and launches herself at your legs.

You crouch down and catch her, and she wraps around you like a koala, warm and sleep-soft and smelling like Sandy’s house, and you hold her and look up at Jake in the doorway and he’s looking at the two of you with that expression again. The one that’s bigger than his face can hold.

“Hi baby,” you say into Mia’s hair. “How was Theo’s?”

“We found a worm,” she says. “His name is Dave.”

“Did you bring Dave home?”

“Sandy said no.” A pause. “I think that was wrong.”

“Dave is probably very happy in Sandy’s garden.”

She considers this. “Okay.” Then, muffled against your shoulder: “Are you staying for breakfast?”

You look at Jake. He holds your gaze, steady and warm. “Yeah,” you say. “I’m staying for breakfast.”

Mia pulls back, satisfied. “Daddy makes good eggs.”

“I know he does.”

“You can sit next to me.”

“I would love that.”

She takes your hand and tows you toward the table with the authority of someone who has decided how this morning is going to go, and Jake moves to the stove, and outside the kitchen window the Saturday morning is doing its soft unhurried thing, and this— this is everything.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The weeks that follow are the best of your life. You don’t say that out loud. It feels too large, too exposed. But it’s true in the quiet way that the truest things are — not dramatic, not announced, just sitting solidly in your chest every time you’re aware of it.

The three of you fall into a rhythm so natural it’s almost hard to remember the before. Jake knocks on your door with the hairbrush and leaves with coffee. You come to theirs for dinner more nights than not. Mia insists on showing you everything — every drawing, every discovery, every development in the ongoing organization of her stuffed animal collection.

The farmers market becomes yours. Every Saturday, the three of you. Mia on Jake’s shoulders, small hands wrapped in his hair, pointing imperiously at things she wants to examine. You buy her a sunflower from the flower stall in week two and she carries it home with both hands like it’s precious, and after that it becomes the thing — every week, a sunflower for Mia, who has decided they are her favorite and cannot be argued with on this point.

Jake watches you with her constantly. You catch him doing it — that soft unguarded look — and he doesn’t stop when you catch him, just holds your gaze until you look away first, which you always do because the directness of it does something to your chest that you haven’t found words for yet.

Mia tells her daycare teacher about you. You know this because Jake texts you a screenshot of a drawing she brought home — the same configuration as before, Mia Daddy Gerald Mr Bunny Y/N, but this time you and Jake are holding hands.

jake 3a: her teacher asked who the people were, she said ‘that’s my daddy and my Y/N they’re in love’

You stare at the message. you: she’s three

jake 3a: three and apparently very perceptive

you: what did you tell the teacher

jake 3a: I said she wasn’t wrong

You put your phone face down on the desk and press both hands over your face and sit there for a full minute. Then you pick it up. you: jake

jake 3a: yeah?

you: are you in love with me

A pause. Longer than usual. Your heart does something complicated in the silence. jake 3a: I’ve been trying to find the right moment to say it properly not over text but yes, very much yes. I have been for a while

jake 3a: is that okay?

You read it three times. you: yes, it’s very okay. also I love you too

jake 3a: yeah?

you: yeah

jake 3a: okay, good. I’m going to say it properly tonight with Mia asleep so she doesn’t narrate it

you: she would absolutely narrate it

jake 3a: she would make it about herself somehow

you: she would bring Mr Bunny as a witness

jake 3a: he’d be very moved

You’re smiling so hard your face hurts, alone in your apartment at two in the afternoon, and you think about the morning you opened your door and found a small person sitting on your doormat in duck pajamas looking for her rabbit.

You think about tiny fingers in yours on the way back across the hall. You think about you’re nice delivered with complete certainty by someone who had known you for four minutes.

That night, after Mia is asleep, Jake says it properly. Standing in the kitchen, cup of tea going cold on the counter, both of you knowing it’s coming and neither of you in any rush because there’s no need to rush anymore.

“I love you,” he says. Simple and direct. “I love you and I love that she loves you and I don’t want to do any of this without you.”

“I love you too,” you say. “Both of you. The whole— all of it. Everything.”

He kisses you there in the kitchen and it tastes like coming home, which is a thing you didn’t know kitchens could taste like until now.

Later, in his bed, you press your face into his shoulder and listen to the particular quiet of the apartment at night — the creak of the building, the distant city, the soft sound of Mia breathing through the baby monitor on the nightstand. “Hey,” Jake says quietly. “You know what Mia asked me today?”

“What?”

“She asked if you were going to live with us.”

Your heart turns over. “What did you tell her?”

“I said I hoped so.” He tilts his head to look down at you. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” you say softly. “That’s okay.” He pulls you closer. You close your eyes. Outside, a siren somewhere. The building settling. Mia’s breathing through the monitor, slow and even and completely safe.

In here, you think. Everything is in here. You never see it coming. That’s the thing about a knock at the door when you’re happy. You don’t brace for it. You don’t clock the risk. You’re just— there. In the warm. Thinking about nothing that isn’t good.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

It’s a Sunday. Mia is at Sandy’s. Not overnight this time — just the afternoon, a regular arrangement while Jake works on a deadline.

Except Jake finished his deadline by noon and texted you and you came over and the afternoon became the best kind of afternoon, the kind that starts with coffee and talking and turns into something else entirely when Mia isn’t home, when there’s nowhere to be and no particular reason to leave the bedroom.

You’re in his bed. Late afternoon light coming gold through the curtains. His hand on your back tracing lazy patterns on your spine. You’re boneless and warm and half thinking about nothing and half thinking about whether Mia will want to show you the worm situation at Sandy’s when Jake picks her up.

“Sandy said she asked to bring Dave home three more times,” Jake says, like he’s reading your mind.

“Persistent.”

“She gets it from somewhere.” His hand moves up to the back of your neck, squeezing gently. “You hungry?” “Not yet.”

“Okay.” He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “We’ve got a couple of hours before I pick her up.” You hum. He pulls you closer. The afternoon light shifts.

Then someone knocks at the door. Jake’s hand stills on your back. “Expecting anyone?” you ask.

“No.” He frowns slightly. “Sandy would call.” He sits up, reaching for his t-shirt. “Probably Danny about the tap.”

You stretch out across the warm space he’s left, drowsy and content, listening to his footsteps down the hall. The sound of the door opening. Silence.

Not the brief silence of oh hi Danny it’s fine. A longer silence. A loaded one.

Then a voice you don’t recognize — a woman’s voice, careful and slightly uncertain — saying his name. “Jake.”

You go very still.

Jake says nothing for a long moment. When he speaks his voice is completely flat in a way you’ve never heard from him before. Like all the warmth has been removed surgically. “What are you doing here?”

“I just— I wanted to—” The woman’s voice. “Can I come in?”

“No. How did you find me?”

“Your mum. She didn’t— she thought I knew the address, I think. I don’t think she realized—”

“Why are you here.” Not a question. A demand.

A pause. “I want to see her,” the woman says. “I want to see Mia.”

The name lands in the apartment like something dropped. You sit up slowly, pulling the sheet around yourself, and the drowsy warmth of the afternoon has gone completely. In its place something cold and alert.

“You need to leave,” Jake says.

“I know I don’t have the right to—”

“You left,” Jake says, and his voice is still flat, but underneath the flatness there is something enormous being held very carefully in check. “She was four months old and you left. You’ve been gone for three years. You don’t get to knock on my door and say you want to see her like it’s a reasonable thing to say.”

“I know.” The woman’s voice cracks slightly. “I know that. I just— Jake, please, I just want—”

“To see her? Or to see me?” Silence. “Yeah,” Jake says quietly. “That’s what I thought.”

You get up. Quietly. You find your clothes in the soft afternoon mess of the room, pull them on, and you stand in the hallway outside his bedroom door and you look at the front door.

She’s standing in the doorway. Tall, dark-haired, pretty in a way that might have been beautiful before whatever she’s been carrying got into her face. She’s looking at Jake with an expression that mixes guilt and want in proportions you don’t have to be a genius to read.

She sees you. Her eyes move over you — your rumpled clothes, Jake’s apartment behind you, the obvious geography of the afternoon — and something hardens in her expression that you recognize. The specific hardening of someone who wanted to find a door open and has found it closed.

Jake turns. He sees you in the hallway. Something moves through his face — protective, apologetic, something else underneath that you don’t have time to read. “Y/N,” he says. “Hi.” You keep your voice steady. “I’ll— I can go.”

“You don’t have to—”

“It’s okay.” You look at him clearly, trying to say with your eyes what you can’t say in front of her: I’m fine. I’m not going far. Handle this. “I’ll be across the hall.”

He holds your gaze. His jaw is set, his eyes tight at the corners, but he gives you the smallest nod.

You pick up your keys from the bowl by the door — yours, in the bowl by Jake’s door, which happened so gradually you can’t remember it beginning — and you step past the woman in the doorway without looking at her.

You go into 3B. You close the door. You sit on your couch and you listen to the muffled sound of voices through the wall, and you hold yourself very carefully together, and you wait.

You sit on your couch for forty minutes. You know because you watch the clock. Not obsessively — you’re not counting seconds — but every time your eyes drift to it another chunk of time has passed and the voices through the wall have not stopped.

You make tea you don’t drink. You open your laptop and close it again. You pick up your phone three times and put it down without texting anyone because what would you even say.

My boyfriend’s ex showed up. The one who left when their daughter was four months old. She’s been there forty minutes and I’m sitting in my apartment trying not to think about the way she looked at him.

You put your phone face down on the cushion beside you.

The thing is — and you know this, you do — you trust Jake. That’s not the part that’s making your chest tight. You’ve watched him for months now. You know who he is. You know the way he holds his daughter and the way he laughs and the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not watching. You know he means what he says.

The part that’s making your chest tight is her face when she saw you. Not guilt. Not embarrassment at the intrusion. Something proprietary. Something that said what are you doing in my space even though she is the one who left. Even though she forfeited any claim to this apartment and this life and this man the day she packed a bag while her four month old daughter slept.

You’re familiar with that expression. You’ve worn it yourself, briefly, watching other women talk to Jake at the market or at the park. You know what it means. She wants him back. Mia is the reason she knocked. But she wants Jake back.

You’re still sitting with that when your phone buzzes. jake 3a: she’s gone, can you come back?

You’re across the hall before you’ve fully decided to move. He opens the door before you knock. He looks terrible. Not falling apart — Jake doesn’t fall apart, you’ve figured that out, he goes very still and very controlled when things get bad, which is almost worse — but there are lines around his eyes that weren’t there this morning and his jaw is set in that way that means he’s been holding something in for a while.

He steps back to let you in. Closes the door. You turn to face him and he looks at you for a moment like he’s checking that you’re real, that you’re still here, that the afternoon hasn’t completely dismantled itself. “You okay?” you ask.

“I should be asking you that.”

“I’m fine. I was across the hall.” You hold his gaze. “Are you okay?”

He exhales. Long and slow. Runs a hand through his hair. “She wants to see Mia. She says she’s been in therapy. That she’s been— working through things. That she made a mistake and she knows that and she just wants—” He stops. His jaw works. “She was here for forty minutes and Mia’s name came up maybe three times.”

Your stomach tightens. “What did the rest of it cover?” He looks at you with an expression that answers the question without words. “Jake—”

“I told her no,” he says. “To all of it. I told her— Mia doesn’t know her. She’s three years old, she has no memory of her, and showing up out of nowhere and announcing herself as her mother would be— I’m not doing that to her. I’m not letting someone walk in and blow up her world because they’ve decided they’re ready now.”

“That’s right,” you say quietly.

“Is it?” He looks genuinely uncertain, and that more than anything tells you how rattled he is. Jake is not an uncertain man. He’s careful, he’s considered, but when he’s decided something he holds it steady. Watching him doubt himself is unfamiliar and uncomfortable. “Because part of me thinks— she’s her mother. Biologically. Does Mia have a right to know her? At some point? And am I—”

“Jake.” You cross to him. Put your hand on his chest, flat over his heart, and look up at him. “You are the most present, devoted, thoughtful parent I have ever seen. You have been both of them for three years. Whatever you decide about this, it comes from that. Not from fear, not from jealousy. From knowing your daughter.” He looks down at you. His hand comes up to cover yours. “She’s not here because of Mia,” you say gently. “You know that.”

“Yeah.” His voice is rough. “Yeah, I know that.”

“So you handle the Mia question in your own time, with proper advice, on your terms. Not because she showed up at your door on a Sunday afternoon.”

He’s quiet for a moment. Then: “When did you get so—”

“Wise?”

“I was going to say steady.”

“Same thing.” You press your palm flatter against his chest. “You’re okay. Mia’s okay. This is just— a thing that happened on a Sunday. It doesn’t have to be more than that right now.”

He looks at you for a long moment. Something in his face shifts — the held-in thing loosening slightly, the lines around his eyes easing. “I really love you,” he says quietly.

“I know.” You reach up, press your hand briefly to his jaw. “I love you too. Go get your daughter.”

He comes back with Mia at five thirty. You’re in his kitchen making dinner — you’d found pasta and vegetables and half a block of good parmesan and it seemed like the right thing to do, to be here, to have something warm happening when they got home.

Mia comes through the door at full speed, as always, and finds you at the stove and absolutely loses her mind with delight. “My Y/N is here!”

“Hi, my Mia.” She barrels into your legs and you crouch down and catch her, and over her head you watch Jake close the front door and lean against it for just a second, eyes closed. Like he’s taking a breath. Like he’s counting the things still here and finding them all present.

Then he opens his eyes and sees you watching him and something in his face goes soft. “Dave update,” Mia says urgently against your neck.

“Tell me everything.”

“Sandy said he moved.” Her voice is full of significance. “She doesn’t know where he went.”

“Dave is living his life.”

“That’s what Sandy said.” She pulls back to look at you. “I think he went to find his family.”

“That’s a very hopeful interpretation.”

“Worms have families,” she tells you solemnly. “Probably.”

“Definitely,” you agree.

Jake has moved into the kitchen. He comes up behind you — Mia still in your arms — and presses a kiss to the side of your head. Quick and quiet. Gratitude and love in a single gesture. “Smells good,” he says.

“Twenty minutes.”

“Can I help?”

“You can set the table.”

“I want to help,” Mia announces.

“You can put the napkins out,” you tell her, and she accepts this responsibility with great seriousness, and Jake sets her down and gets the napkins and she carries them to the table one at a time with both hands like they’re fragile, and Jake catches your eye across the kitchen and mouths thank you and you shake your head slightly because there’s nothing to thank you for.

You’re exactly where you want to be.

Later, after dinner, after Mia’s bath, after two bedtime stories and one negotiation about the structural integrity of a fort she wants to construct in the living room (tomorrow, baby, it’s bedtime), after small arms around your neck and a kiss pressed very seriously to your cheek and night my Y/N into the dark—

You and Jake sit on his couch in the quiet. He has his legs stretched out on the coffee table. You’re tucked into his side, his arm around you. The lamp is the only light. The apartment has the particular peace of a small child asleep in the next room. “She’s going to come back,” Jake says quietly.

“Probably.”

“I’m going to talk to a lawyer. Get clear on where things stand legally before she does.” His thumb moves on your arm. “She signed over custody voluntarily. I don’t think she has grounds for anything. But I want to know for certain.”

“That’s smart.”

“I don’t want Mia to know about this until I do. I don’t want her picking up on anything.”

“She won’t hear it from me.”

He turns his head to press a kiss to your hair. “I know.” You sit in the quiet for a moment. “She looked at you,” he says. “The way she looked at you when she saw you there.” His arm tightens slightly. “I need you to know that whatever she came here wanting, it was never going to— she left, Y/N. She made her choice. There’s nothing there.”

“I know that too.”

“I just—” He exhales. “I don’t want you to have any doubt. About this. About us.”

You lift your head to look at him. His face in the lamplight, tired and earnest and completely, simply honest. “I don’t,” you tell him. “Not even a little.”

He holds your gaze. “Good,” he says quietly. He kisses you softly, and you let yourself melt into it, and outside the window the night is doing its ordinary thing, indifferent and ongoing.

When you break apart you settle back against his shoulder. “Stay,” he says.

“Obviously,” you say. He pulls you closer.

In the next room, Mia sleeps, completely safe, completely loved, completely unaware that someone knocked on the door today and was turned away.

She’ll know, eventually. Jake will tell her, carefully, at the right time, in the right way. That’s the kind of father he is. But tonight she just sleeps. And you and Jake stay on the couch until you both drift off, warm and quiet and whole.

The lawyer’s name is Ms. Park and she is very thorough.

Jake comes back from the meeting on a Wednesday looking lighter than he has all week. He finds you in his kitchen — where you are most afternoons now, it’s become accepted fact — and he leans in the doorway and says:

“She has no legal standing. She relinquished custody voluntarily and completely. If she wants any kind of access she would have to apply through the courts and demonstrate sustained rehabilitation and it would be a long process with no guarantee.”

You set down the mug you’re washing. “Okay.”

“She came here once and I turned her away and she hasn’t come back.” He exhales. “I don’t think she’s going to pursue it. I think she came here for me and when that didn’t work—”

“She has no reason to stay.” You cross the kitchen to him. Put your hands on his chest. “How do you feel?”

He thinks about it genuinely, the way he does. “Relieved,” he says. “And— sad, a little. That it’s this way. That Mia doesn’t have—” He stops.

“She has you,” you say. “She has Sandy and Mrs. Kim and the daycare teachers who love her and Theo the worm friend and—” You meet his eyes. “She has me. For as long as you’ll both have me.”

Something moves through his face. “Forever, then,” he says simply.

Your heart turns over. “Yeah,” you say softly. “Forever works.”

He kisses you there in the kitchen and it tastes like relief and sunlight and something settled and permanent. From the doorway comes a small voice. “Are you kissing again?”

You break apart to find Mia standing in the hallway in her socks, Mr. Bunny under her arm, regarding you both with the patient exhaustion of someone who has seen this many times and has opinions. “Sorry,” Jake says, not sounding sorry at all.

“It’s fine,” Mia says, generous. “You can kiss. But after can we do the fort?”

“We can do the fort,” you confirm. She nods, satisfied. Turns and toddles back down the hall.

Jake looks at you. You look at Jake.“The fort,” he says. You nod in agreement and follow him and your daughter down the hall.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Three months later, Mia stops calling you my Y/N. She starts calling you mama.

It happens on a Tuesday. Not a special Tuesday. Not a significant one. Just an ordinary Tuesday in February where the sky is doing that flat grey thing it does in late summer when the heat hasn’t broken yet and everything feels slightly sticky and slow.

You’re doing her hair. The Wednesday morning routine has migrated — it’s every morning now, most mornings, because somewhere between October and February the question of which apartment are you sleeping in stopped being a real question. You’re here. You live here, functionally, in every way that matters except the technical one. Your toothbrush is here. A drawer is yours. Gerald the succulent has been relocated to the kitchen windowsill where he gets better light and Mia waters him every second day with great ceremony.

Jake is in the kitchen. Coffee is happening. Mia is between your knees on the couch, holding Mr. Bunny, and you’re doing two neat braids because she has decided braids are her preference this week and you’ve been practicing. “Tighter,” she instructs.

“If I go tighter it’ll pull.”

“I want tight braids.”

“You want braids that feel comfortable and also look good.”

She considers this negotiation. “Okay,” she concedes.

You keep going. She hums something to herself, swinging her feet, and you work through the second braid, and it’s quiet in the good way, the way that only exists when everyone in a space is completely comfortable. “Mama,” Mia says.

“Hmm?” You tie off the braid.

“Can I wear the yellow dress today?”

You’re reaching for the second hair tie when it lands.

Mama.

She said it like it was nothing. Like it was the most natural word in the world. Like she’s been saying it her whole life, which — you realize, with your heart doing something enormous and unsteady in your chest — maybe in her head she has been.

“Yeah,” you manage, and your voice comes out almost normal. “Yeah, baby, we can find the yellow dress.”

She scrambles off the couch and heads to her room, completely unbothered, Mr. Bunny trailing from one hand. You sit there. In the kitchen, the coffee maker finishes its cycle.

Jake appears in the doorway with two mugs, takes one look at your face, and stops. “What happened? Are you okay? What—”

“She called me mama,” you say.

The mugs go onto the coffee table. Jake sits beside you and looks at you with an expression that is doing the same enormous unsteady thing yours probably is. “Just now?”

“Just now.” Your voice is not quite steady. “She asked if she could wear the yellow dress and she called me mama and then she just— walked off. Like it was nothing.”

“Y/N—”

“I’m not upset.” You turn to him, urgent, needing him to understand. “I’m not— I’m not upset, Jake, I just—” You press a hand to your chest. “I don’t know what to do with this.”

He looks at you for a long moment. Then he takes your face in both hands, careful and deliberate, and presses his forehead to yours. “I do,” he says quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He pulls back just enough to look at you. “You say yes. That’s what you do. You just— say yes.”

From down the hall: “Found it!” A pause. “Mama, can you do the buttons?”

You close your eyes. “Okay,” you breathe. Yeah.” You open your eyes. Look at him. “Yeah. Okay.”

He kisses you, quick and soft, and then you get up and go down the hall to do the buttons on a yellow dress, and Jake stands in the living room doorway watching and the expression on his face is the most complete thing you’ve ever seen on a human being.

That night, after Mia is asleep, Jake asks you to move in. Not impulsively. Not as a reaction to the morning. You can tell he’s been thinking about it for a while — there’s a particular quality to his stillness when he’s been working up to something, and you’ve learned it the way you’ve learned all of him, gradually and permanently.

You’re on the couch. Late. The lamp on, the city quiet outside. His hand in yours. “Move in,” he says. You look at him. “Properly,” he says. “Not the drawer and the toothbrush. All of it. Gerald and everything.”

“Gerald’s already here.”

“I know.” The corner of his mouth moves. “Consider it a trial run.”

You look at your joined hands. At the apartment that has been yours in every meaningful sense for months. At the hallway where Mia is sleeping with Mr. Bunny and her color-organized stuffed animals and absolute certainty that you will be here in the morning. “Yeah,” you say.

“Yeah?”

“Obviously yeah, Jake.” You lean over and kiss him. “Obviously.”

He pulls you in and holds you there, and you feel him exhale slowly against your hair. “She’s going to lose her mind,” he says.

“She’s going to tell Gerald first.”

“She’s going to tell Gerald, then Mrs. Kim, then Sandy, then everyone at daycare.”

“In that order.”

“In that exact order.”

You’re both laughing, quiet so you don’t wake her, and it settles into something warm and certain. “Hey,” Jake says. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You press your face into his shoulder. “Both of you. The whole thing.”

“The whole thing loves you back,” he says simply.

You tell Mia in the morning. Jake does it, at breakfast, with the careful measured approach of a man who has learned that toddlers receive important news better when they’re eating something. “Hey Mia. You know how Y/N stays here a lot?”

Mia looks up from her toast. Looks at you. Looks back at Jake. “Yes.”

“How would you feel if she stayed here all the time? Like, lived here. With us.”

Mia blinks. Puts down her toast. Looks at you with enormous serious eyes. “Like forever?” she asks.

“Like forever,” Jake confirms.

She stares at you for a long moment with the focused intensity of someone making a very important assessment.

Then she gets down from her chair, crosses to you, climbs into your lap uninvited and completely certain of her welcome, and wraps both arms around your neck. “Okay,” she says into your shoulder. “You can live here.”

“Thank you,” you manage, arms tight around her.

“Gerald will be happy,” she adds.

“He really will.”

She pulls back. Looks at your face. Puts her small hand on your cheek exactly the way she did on the very first morning, in the hallway, four months ago when she was looking for her rabbit. “Don’t cry,” she says kindly. “It’s good news.”

“I know.” You laugh, wet at the edges. “Happy tears.”

“Oh.” She considers this. “Okay.” Then, satisfied, she climbs back down, retrieves her toast, and resumes breakfast.

Jake is looking at you over her head with an expression that could power something. “Told you,” he mouths. You shake your head, still smiling, still blinking hard.

The whole thing loves you back. Yeah. Yeah it really does.

The move takes a weekend. It’s not a big move — your apartment was small and you’ve been migrating things gradually for months without meaning to — but there’s something significant about doing it officially. Carrying boxes across the hall. Hanging your clothes properly in the wardrobe. Arranging your books on the shelves beside Jake’s.

Mia supervises. She is a very involved supervisor, offering opinions on where everything should go and occasionally redirecting items she feels would be better placed in her room. You negotiate firmly on the throw blanket. You surrender the small lamp without a fight because she’s put it next to Mr. Bunny and it does look good there, objectively.

By Sunday evening the apartment is a comfortable chaos of rearrangement and you’re all sitting on the living room floor eating pizza from the box because no one has the energy to locate the table under the moving debris.

Mia is in your lap. Jake is beside you, shoulder to shoulder, pizza slice in hand, looking around the apartment that has shifted and expanded and settled into something new. “Looks different,” he says.

“Good different?”

He looks at you. “Yeah. Really good different.”

Mia tilts her head back to look up at you from your lap. “Can we build the fort now?”

“We live in a fort,” you tell her, gesturing at the surrounding box landscape.

Her eyes go wide. She looks around. Looks back at you. “We live in a fort,” she breathes.

“We live in a fort,” Jake confirms solemnly. She is overcome.

You and Jake look at each other over her head, laughing, and it is — this moment exactly, pizza and boxes and a delighted three year old and the lamp in the wrong place and Gerald on the windowsill — it is everything. Absolutely everything.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

A year later

The morning of the wedding, Mia wakes up at five forty-three AM. You know this because she comes and stands beside the bed and breathes on your face until you open your eyes. “It’s today,” she whispers.

“It is,” you confirm.

“I’m the flower girl.”

“You are.”

She absorbs this with great seriousness. Then: “I need to practice.”

“Mia, it’s not even six—”

“I need to practice.”

Jake makes a sound beside you that is him absolutely not laughing. You elbow him. “Okay,” you say. “But quietly. So we don’t wake the neighbors.”

She nods, solemn and focused, and turns and walks very slowly back down the hallway, scattering invisible petals with great ceremony, narrating under her breath — and then I walk here, and then here, and then I find mama—

You lie there in the early morning grey and stare at the ceiling and think about the word mama the way you have thought about it every day for the past year and a half. The way it still does something enormous to your chest. The way you don’t think it will ever stop.

Jake rolls toward you. Presses his face into your neck. “Morning,” he murmurs.

“Your daughter is practicing flower girl technique in the hallway.”

“She’s been planning this since we told her.” His arm comes around you. “She asked Sandy if she could practice at her house. She practiced at daycare. She made Theo be the groom so she could practice walking toward someone.”

“She’s extremely prepared.”

“She’s extremely her.” He presses a kiss to your jaw. “How are you feeling?”

“Good.” You turn to face him. His face in the early light, sleep-soft and certain and completely, permanently yours. “Really good. You?”

“Best day of my life,” he says simply. “After the day she was born. And the day you moved in. And the day you said yes when I asked.” He pauses. “Top five, at minimum.”

“That’s very good company.”

“You’re very good company.” He kisses you properly, slow and warm, and from the hallway comes the sound of small feet completing another practice lap.

“…and then I find mama, and she’s the prettiest—” You pull back from Jake, blinking hard. He looks at you. Reaches up and brushes his thumb under your eye, gentle.

“She’s not wrong,” he says.

“It’s five forty-five in the morning, I look terrible—”

“You look like the person I’m marrying today.” He holds your gaze. “Which means you look perfect.” You press your face into his shoulder and hold on for a moment.

From the hallway: “Okay I’m ready. Can we have breakfast now?”

Sandy comes at nine to take Mia for hair and getting dressed — a situation Mia has been anticipating with the focused excitement of someone who has been told she gets curls and a flower in her hair and has not stopped thinking about it since.

She submits to the process with remarkable patience, sitting very still while Sandy works, only turning her head twice to update you on developments. “It’s getting curlier,” she reports.

“I can see that.”

“Do I look like a princess?”

“You look exactly like a princess.” She nods, satisfied, and returns to stillness.

When it’s done she stands in front of the mirror in her small white dress — simple, with a yellow sash, because she requested yellow and you would move mountains before you’d say no to that — and looks at herself for a long, serious moment.“I look nice,” she concludes.

“You look incredible,” Sandy says.

“Yeah.” She turns to look at you. Her eyes go wide. “Mama. You look so pretty.”

You’re in your dress — simple, exactly what you wanted, nothing complicated — and your hair is done and you’re holding your bouquet and you’re trying very hard not to cry and failing slightly.“So do you,” you tell her.

She crosses to you. Reaches up and takes your hand, the way she did in a hallway a long time ago, completely certain of her welcome.“Don’t be nervous,” she tells you.

“I’m not nervous.”

“Good.” She squeezes your fingers. “Daddy loves you the most.”

“He loves you the most.”

She considers this with genuine fairness. “He loves us the same,” she decides. “Equal. Like a tie.”

“That’s exactly right.”

She nods. Pats your hand once, settling the matter. “Okay,” she says. “Let’s go get married.”

The venue is small and warm and full of people who love you.

Mrs. Kim is in the third row in her best jacket, already dabbing her eyes. Sandy is beside her. Jake’s parents flew in from Brisbane — his mother cried when she met you and his father shook your hand for a very long time and said thank you for making them happy and you’d had to excuse yourself to the bathroom for five minutes after that.

Your own family. Your friends. The people who have been the walls of your life. And at the end of the aisle, Jake.

In a dark suit, hands clasped in front of him, hair the way you like it. He’s talking quietly to the celebrant and then someone touches his arm and he looks up and sees Mia in the doorway.

His face does what it always does when he sees her. That open, completely unguarded thing. She waves at him. He waves back.

Then he sees you behind her and his face does something else entirely.

The music starts. Mia goes first. She has been told, approximately as many times as you can tell a four and a half year old anything, that flower girls walk slowly. Measured. Elegant. She lasts four steps.

Then she spots Jake at the end of the aisle and she goes — there is no other word for it — feral with excitement, sunflowers clutched in both fists, petals going in every direction except down, grinning so hard her whole face is the grin, half walking half skipping half something entirely her own.

“DADDY I FOUND HER” she announces at full volume to the entire assembled gathering. “I FOUND HER SHE’S HERE”

The room erupts. Not polite wedding laughter. Real laughter, the kind that comes from somewhere genuine, rippling through every row. Mrs. Kim is crying laughing. Sandy has her hand over her mouth. Jake’s mother is gripping his father’s arm.

Jake is crouching down to catch Mia as she reaches him, scooping her up, pressing a kiss to her chaotic curls, the flower in her hair somehow surviving the sprint. “Good job,” you hear him tell her.

“I practiced,” she says, very serious.

“I know you did, baby.” He sets her down. She takes her position with great dignity, as though the sprint did not happen, as though she has been standing here elegantly the entire time.

And then Jake looks up at you. You walk toward him. The room goes soft around the edges — not blurred, just quiet, the way things go when you’re paying attention to the only thing that matters. The faces on either side are warm and familiar and you see them without seeing them because you’re looking at Jake.

Jake, who opened his door on a panicked Tuesday morning and showed you his worst fear and his whole heart in the same thirty seconds.

Jake, who makes coffee before you ask and remembers every small thing and says what he means with a simplicity that still sometimes catches you off guard.

Jake, who watched you fall in love with his daughter before you fell in love with him and let it happen without trying to manage or protect or preempt it, because he trusted you, because he looked at you and knew.

You reach him. He takes your hand and holds it like he’s been holding it his whole life. “Hi,” he says quietly.

“Hi,” you say back.

Beside him, Mia has taken your other hand. She holds it with both of hers, feet planted, present and accounted for, witnessing this with the gravity it deserves.

The celebrant begins. The vows are Jake’s own words. You knew this. You wrote yours too, separately, privately, the way you’d agreed. But hearing them — in his voice, in this room, looking at his face — is different from knowing.

He talks about the morning Mia escaped into the hallway and how he stood in your doorway afterward watching you crouch down to his daughter’s level and felt something shift that he couldn’t name yet and didn’t try to.

He talks about Wednesday mornings with the hairbrush. About leftover pasta and late night texting and the drawing on the fridge.

He talks about the way you love Mia — not as a condition of loving him, not as an extension of it, but first, entirely and separately first, because that’s who you are.

She picked you, he says, before I had a chance to. And she has never once been wrong about anything important. Beside you, Mia straightens slightly at this. You feel her grip on your hand tighten.

I’m not a man who believed in easy, Jake says. I thought love was supposed to be something you work and worry at. And then you moved in across the hall and you were just — easy. Everything with you has just been easy. Not without difficulty. Not without fear. But easy the way breathing is easy. The way I can’t imagine not doing it. His voice has gone rough at the edges.

I love you. I loved you in October and I loved you in February and I love you today and I’m going to love you when Mia is grown and gone and it’s just us and I’m going to love you in every ordinary Tuesday that comes after this one because that’s where you live. In the ordinary Tuesdays. And I want every single one of them.

The room is very quiet. You are absolutely crying. You decided before today that you weren’t going to cry until after the vows at the earliest and you have failed completely. “Don’t cry,” Mia whispers, helpful. “It’s good news.”

Laughter moves through the room like a wave. Jake laughs too, wiping his eyes, and you laugh through yours, and it breaks the solemnity just enough, the way the best moments always do — serious and true and then suddenly full of light.

Your vows. You talk about duck pajamas and a stuffed rabbit and a small hand in yours in a hallway. You talk about a crayon drawing on a fridge and a child who put you in her family portrait before you knew you belonged there.

You talk about a man who carried his daughter on his shoulders through a farmers market and came home to make dinner and knocked on your door with leftover pasta and showed you what it looked like when someone decided that loving people well was the most important thing they could do.

You taught me that, you say. Both of you. You showed me what it looks like when love is a decision someone makes every single day without drama and without conditions. Mia does it for everyone she meets. You do it quietly and completely and I want to spend the rest of my life doing it back. You look at Jake.

I love you. I love our ordinary Tuesdays. I love Wednesday mornings and Saturday markets and bedtime stories and all the Gerald updates and every single version of this life we’ve built in an apartment across the hall from where I used to live alone. I love your daughter.

You look down at Mia. She is watching you with her whole face. Completely still, completely focused, taking this in with the seriousness it deserves.

She is the best thing, you say. She is the absolute best thing, and I promise her, today, in front of everyone who loves us, that I am here. I am not going anywhere. She is mine and I am hers and that is permanent and unconditional and nothing will ever change it.

Mia’s lip wobbles. Just slightly. You watch her decide, with great effort, not to cry, because she is a flower girl and flower girls are professionals and she has a reputation to maintain. She squeezes your hand instead. Very hard. You squeeze back.

I now pronounce you married.

Jake kisses you, and the room rises, and somewhere in the noise you hear Mia announce to no one in particular and everyone simultaneously:

“THAT’S MY MAMA NOW. THAT’S OFFICIALLY MY MAMA.”

And then, apparently satisfied that this has been adequately communicated, she inserts herself between the two of you and takes both your hands and holds on.

Jake looks at you over her head. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.

The reception is everything. Mrs. Kim dances with Mia for forty-five minutes straight and neither of them stops. Sandy cries every time someone gives a speech. Jake’s father gives a toast that makes the whole room laugh and then immediately cry. Your own people hold you and tell you they knew, they always knew, from the moment you started talking about the little girl next door like she’d hung the moon.

Jake dances with Mia first — tradition, he’d decided, she gets the first dance — and you stand at the edge of the floor and watch her stand on his feet, both of them swaying to something slow, her head against his chest, his hand spanning her whole back.

You take a photo. You will look at that photo for the rest of your life.

Then he passes her off to his mother and comes to find you, hand extended, and you take it and let him pull you out onto the floor. “Hi wife,” he says, like he’s trying the word out.

“Hi husband.”

He smiles. Pulls you closer. “How’s it feel?”

“Same,” you say honestly. “Exactly the same. Just— more settled.”

“Yeah.” His hand moves on your back. “Like it’s been true for a while and now the paperwork caught up.”

“Exactly like that.”

You dance. The room moves around you, warm and full of people you love, and Mia is somewhere in it, probably telling someone about Dave the worm or Gerald or the structural integrity of forts, and it is — all of it, every piece — everything. All of it everything.

She falls asleep at nine fifteen. Mid-sentence, apparently — Jake’s mother told you later she was explaining the color organization system for the stuffed animals and then she simply stopped explaining and was asleep, curled in the chair with her flower crown half off and her shoes long since abandoned and the last of her sunflowers still in her hand.

Jake carries her out to the car at the end of the night, limp and certain and completely trusting the way only sleeping children are, and you tuck the seatbelt around her and push the flower crown gently back from her face. She doesn’t wake up.

She won’t remember being carried, won’t remember the drive home, won’t remember being tucked in. But in the morning she’ll wake up and come and stand at the side of your bed and breathe on your face until you open your eyes, and you’ll ask her how she slept and she’ll say good and you’ll ask if she had fun at the wedding and she’ll say yes I was the flower girl with the proprietary satisfaction of someone who performed their role excellently and knows it. And she’ll be right. She was, without any competition, the best part.

Later. Much later. His penthouse — your penthouse, it still catches you sometimes — quiet and dark except for the city light through the windows. Mia asleep down the hall. The flower crown on the kitchen counter. Your bouquet in a glass of water because you couldn’t throw it, it was too pretty.

Jake’s jacket over the chair. Your heels by the door. You and Jake on the couch the way you’ve been a hundred times before, his arm around you, your head on his shoulder, the easy comfortable weight of each other. “Hey,” he says quietly.

“Hey.”

“Mia told Theo’s mum today that she picked you.”

You lift your head. “What?”

“At the reception. Apparently she walked up to Theo’s mum completely unprompted and said—” He’s smiling. “She said I picked her first. Before Daddy even knew.”

You stare at him. “She’s four and a half,” you say.

“I know. She’s extremely perceptive,” Jake says. “Always has been.”

You think about a Tuesday morning and duck pajamas and the end of a hallway. The hand on your cheek. You’re nice. The absolute certainty of it. The way she gave you her fingers without hesitating like she already knew. “She did pick me first,” you say softly.

“Yeah.” Jake presses a kiss to your hair. “She really did.”

The city does its quiet nighttime thing outside the windows. Down the hall, Mia sleeps. You and Jake stay where you are, warm and settled, in the ordinary extraordinary life you built one Tuesday at a time.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Three weeks later, on an ordinary Wednesday morning, Mia sits between your knees on the couch.

You’re doing her braids. Jake is in the kitchen. Coffee is happening. Gerald is on the windowsill. Mr. Bunny is in the orange section of the stuffed animal shelf. Everything exactly where it should be. “Mama,” Mia says.

“Hmm?”

“When I’m big can I be a flower girl again?”

“When you’re big you can be whatever you want.”

She considers this carefully. “I want to be a flower girl and a paleontologist and a cat.”

“All three?”

“On different days.”

“That seems manageable.” She nods, satisfied. Swings her feet.

From the kitchen, Jake: “Braids today?”

“Braids,” Mia confirms, with the authority of someone whose hair decisions are final. You finish the first one. Start the second. The morning does its ordinary thing around you.

Mia tilts her head back to look up at you, upside down, grinning. “I love you, mama.”

You smooth a hand over her hair. “I love you too, baby,” you say. “So much.” She rights herself. Goes back to swinging her feet.

Outside the window the morning is doing what mornings do, indifferent and ongoing and full of ordinary things.

In here it is warm. In here everyone is exactly where they are supposed to be. This is just the beginning. And it is everything.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆