k e n z i e

jake's gf [real]

[fqirysim]

attention, please !

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐫, 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐬 (𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩), 𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝, 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐮 (𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐚)

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫!𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐭. 𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 (𝐢𝐯𝐞)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏𝟎.𝟕𝐤 (𝐢 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭'𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 (𝐞𝐱: 𝐣𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰)

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦-- 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞; 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐛𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐝, 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐦, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐰, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭!! 𝐢 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢'𝐦 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬!! 𝐢 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐢 𝐝𝐨 <𝟑. 𝐨𝐛𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐚'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞! 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥. 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢'𝐦 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐜, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐭. 𝐢𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @yunhoswrldddd @aubaee @kim2005bomi

—-----

sunghoon was never one to get rejected. he was the most handsome guy on campus, after all. he was charming and handsome, and people would come watch your university team play hockey just to see him. who else would they come see? (well, maybe some of them came to see his best friend heeseung, but sunghoon chose to believe everyone came to see him.)

all his life, sunghoon had always gotten what he wanted, the person that he liked at the time or whatever expensive item he eyed in the store window. being the handsome son of a ceo had its perks. 

so you can imagine the shock that shot through sunghoon when you were the first person in his life to tell him no. 

he had talked to you all night at one of yeonjun’s parties after noticing you in his class earlier that week. he remembered talking to his best friend heeseung about you, and the bet that soon followed after; if he could get you to fall for him, heeseung would have to do sunghoon’s laundry for a month. but if sunghoon lost, he would have to give heeseung $500. 

of course, $500 was pocket change for sunghoon, but he was never one to turn down a bet– especially one he knew he would win. and plus, not doing laundry for a month (especially during hockey season), was a blessing if sunghoon had ever seen one. 

sunghoon had observed you beforehand; you were cute, quiet, timid. you sat in class and took your notes like the good little girl you were, and even though sunghoon pretended not to notice, he saw you glancing at him throughout class.

he believed that it would have been easy to get you to follow him upstairs, to spend the night with him and fall in love with him like every other girl he hooked up with. 

he would soon find out that this was not easy at all. 

when he reached for your hand, you instead drew back. you didn’t jump into his arms the first chance you got. you didn’t even lean in for a kiss. 

you instead told him, “sorry, i’m not interested.” 

you weren’t interested in park sunghoon? 

he was the son of a ceo, he was handsome, he was charming, he was funny, and he chose to flirt with you all night yet you still weren’t interested? were you not stealing glances at sunghoon during class after all? if you weren’t looking at him, what else would you be looking at? surely there was nothing else interesting enough to look at. unless you were taking glances at the clock that was hung up on the wall behind him. and was that pity on your face? 

there was an awkward silence that fell upon you as sunghoon tried to compose himself. 

sunghoon had never lost his cool, and he definitely had never been rejected before. this seemed even more obvious to you as he nervously chuckled, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. 

the tips of his ears started to turn pink as sunghoon opened his mouth to make up some sort of excuse, anything to get rid of this awkward atmosphere. anything to redeem himself and his reputation. 

before he could come up with anything, you muttered “it was nice talking to you,” with an awkward smile and bowed your head politely, before weaving through the crowd of bodies dancing together.  

sunghoon watched as you walked away, approaching a boy in one of his other classes. his eyes narrowed as he saw you talking to jake sim, your smile bright and face slightly flushed. 

“hey sunghoon,” a familiar voice yelled over the loud music. heeseung was making his way over, a red solo cup in hand. he stumbled a bit on the way over, regaining his balance with the help of a girl on the dance floor. 

finally making his way over, he leaned against the wall next to sunghoon, taking a sip of his drink. 

“what happened to the girl you said you were gonna make fall in love with you?” he teased, his words slightly slurred. his breath reeked of alcohol. 

“ew heeseung, how much did you drink?” sunghoon grimaced, pushing heeseung’s face away from his. “she said she wasn’t interested.”

sunghoon had mumbled the last part, too embarrassed to say it loud enough for anyone to hear. the music blasting throughout the house was (thankfully) loud enough to drown sunghoon’s voice out, leaving a confused look on heeseung’s face. “she what? i can’t hear you, the music’s too loud!”

“i’ll tell you in the morning,” sunghoon replied. he didn’t want to have this conversation with a drunk heeseung. 

“who’s that guy?” sunghoon instead asked, feigning ignorance. he nodded his head at jake sim who still had your every bit of attention as he talked, which only annoyed sunghoon more. when sunghoon talked to you, you seemed like you were waiting for someone to show up. 

seems like now i know who it was, sunghoon thought bitterly.

“who, jake?” heeseung asked. 

“jake? is he american?” sunghoon replied. 

“no, australian,” heeseung responded, ignoring the scoff in sunghoon’s voice. “korean-australian to be exact.”

“he’s a cool guy, hoon,” heeseung continued, noticing the sour expression on his friend’s face. “he got in with a soccer scholarship, was the class president at his high school, got the highest grades, and from what i heard, he still does. i’ve hung out with him and his friends once, they’re really cool.”

“well who is he friends with?” sunghoon snapped. 

“jay, and some freshman named jungwon.”

sunghoon said nothing in response, watching as riki came to talk to heeseung, dragging him over to the dance floor. 

sunghoon bitterly took a sip of his drink, watching you once again as you talked to jake. he was now handing you a drink, a smile on his face as he said something, causing you to laugh. 

sunghoon couldn’t quite put his finger on the feeling he felt, watching as jake made you laugh. sunghoon wanted to be the one to do that, to make you laugh and smile and flutter your eyelashes.

it seemed like jake could feel his gaze on them, glancing over at sunghoon and nodding his head in greeting. sunghoon chose to ignore him, and chugged the rest of his drink before he went to get sunoo and heeseung to tell them it was time they went home to their apartment. 

—-----

monday morning, sunghoon was ready to go to his first class of the day. his first class was at 8 in the morning, which was usually not a good thing, but as he sat in his usual seat, a row behind jake, he found himself picking the boy in front of him apart. 

what did this boy have that he didn’t? what made you blush and giggle in ways that sunghoon apparently couldn’t do for you? 

sure, jake could speak fluent english with that stupid accent of his, and he can get the best grades in the class and play soccer. but sunghoon could do all of those things if he really tried! 

he could hire a tutor to teach him english and he could be fluent in a month if he really put his mind to it! sunghoon could be studious like him! he could get good grades and become top of his class in no time.

as if the timing couldn’t get any better, his professor placed a piece of paper on the table in front of him, mouth downturned into a frown.

a feeling of dread filled sunghoon as he picked up his paper, seeing a bright red 65 at the top of the page. he just barely passed. 

“what did you get?” jake whispered to the girl sitting beside him. her face turned a slight pink as she blushed. she was so obviously into him.

“just an 85, what about you?” 

jake showed her his paper with a wide smile, a bright red 98 on his paper. “if you need help with anything let me know, i don’t mind studying together!” 

if sunghoon said this, he would’ve sounded like he was flirting. but when jake said it, it sounded like he meant it. he seemed so earnest, so nice. 

the girl’s face reddened even more as she nodded her head before turning her attention back to the front, fixing her hair so that her hair was pushed back behind her ear. 

sunghoon watched in disbelief. 

sunghoon felt annoyed as he thought of you. why did he care so much about what you thought of him, anyway? you were just one girl out of hundreds that he could flirt with. 

but his thoughts kept drifting to you, your smile as you looked up at jake at the party, your head thrown back in laughter at something he said. how pretty you looked that night with all the jewelry you wore. 

he jolted out of his thoughts as he heard students packing their things up, signaling the end of class. he shook his head at his previous thoughts, chalking them up to just wanting to win his bet with heeseung. 

sunghoon hastily grabbed his things and threw them in his bag to leave before jake did. 

he knew it was immature, to make everything a one-sided competition with the boy, but he couldn’t help it as he speed-walked out of the class, even though his next class wasn’t until 11. 

—-------

you sat in your usual seat for your class at 11 am, taking out your laptop and supplies for the lesson ahead. 

you hated this class and cursed whoever invented it. you hated how it seemed like when you were in this class the minutes would just drag on and on and on. 

you glanced to your left as you heard someone take the seat next to you, a familiar cologne drifting in the air. it was none other than park sunghoon, his hair and clothes styled to perfection per usual, pulling a notebook out of his bag. 

you looked at him quizzically, wondering why he was sitting next to you. you knew he usually sat in the back so that your professor wouldn’t be able to notice him on his phone. not that you paid attention to him, of course. or so you said. 

you didn’t go out of your way to pay attention to every single thing sunghoon did, but you couldn’t say you weren’t the tiniest bit interested in him. maybe you would’ve been crushing on him instead of jake if he weren’t such a player. 

“you wouldn’t happen to have a pen i could borrow, do you?” sunghoon whispered to you, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

“yeah, here,” you handed him a pen from your pencil case. you tried to turn your attention back to the lecture but couldn’t help from stealing a couple of looks at sunghoon. 

your gaze worked its way down from the top of his head to his beautiful side profile, to the perfect angle of his jawline, and then eventually to the notebook in front of him. 

it was empty. it was opened to the first page and it was completely empty.

 not a single note was taken, and you were almost quite certain that he hadn’t even opened the book before today. you were halfway through the semester and it was like sunghoon wasn’t even in your class. 

he looked so confused at everything that your professor was saying that you felt a little bit bad for him. not too bad though. that’s what he deserved for worrying more about partying and girls than his academics. 

your class came to an end quicker than it usually seemed, with you rushing to leave with the other students in your class. “hey, y/n, wait up!” you turned to see sunghoon speed walking to catch up with you, hair slightly frazzled and only one strap of his backpack on.  

“hey sunghoon, what’s up?” you replied nonchalantly, hoping he wouldn’t bring up yeonjun’s party. you had hoped that he was just drunk, that you were just there and he forgot all about you rejecting him. but why else would he sit next to you in class? you had nothing in common with the boy in front of you. 

with his pretty boy features, shiny hair, and designer clothes he was almost your complete opposite. with how much you’ve been studying you were sure that the bags under your eyes weren’t hard to spot, and you couldn’t remember the last time you washed the sweater you were wearing right now. 

“about yeonjun’s party,” sunghoon started. 

“oh yea, yeonjun’s party! crazy night am i right?” you cut him off, starting to walk towards the direction of your dorm. 

“yeah no for sure it was a blast,” he chuckled awkwardly, keeping pace with you as you walked. “i just wanted to apologize, i think i came off a bit too strong.” 

you glanced over at him, hoping he wasn’t looking at you. of course, with your luck, you made eye contact with him, your face starting to feel hot as you felt his gaze continue. 

you composed yourself, standing up a bit straighter, “sunghoon, i meant what i said. i’m sorry, but i’m really not interested.” with an awkward smile and a bow, for the second time within two days, you were walking away from sunghoon’s advances.

“come on y/n one date, i’m begging,” you heard him shout after you. 

“never gonna happen sunghoon!” you replied, without even turning around to look back. 

—-------

sunghoon was hurt to say the least. or, well his ego was hurt. there was no way you weren’t into him. so sunghoon would have to be persistent, no big deal. but in order to do so, he would have to go to greater lengths than he ever had before.

“jungwon! over here!” sunghoon waved the boy over to where he was sitting in the cafe he was at.

the young boy looked over quizzically before he started to make his way over, “um, hi?” 

sunghoon had never cared for the younger boy, but he knew that yang jungwon was his ticket to a date with y/n. jungwon was her best friend, and he remembered that heeseung said the boy was also friends with jake. this was the best strategic thought sunghoon could’ve ever come up with. 

“why don’t you take a seat? let’s catch up! i haven’t seen you since high school, you’ve gotten so tall!” 

“we never talked in high school.” jungwon deadpanned. “what do you actually want sunghoon?” 

sunghoon sighed, “it’s y/n. i have this big crush on her, and she’s done nothing but reject my advances. i need help winning her over.” sunghoon internally cringed at his own sigh, hoping it didn’t sound too dramatic or too obvious that he didn’t mean the words he said. 

with a quizzical expression, jungwon finally took a seat, his interest piqued. hook, line, and sinker sunghoon thought. this will be a piece of cake. 

“are you sure we’re thinking of the same y/n? she just seems…” jungwon paused, trying to piece his words together in a polite way. “...a little too good for you.” 

“she is too good for me which is why i’m trying to win her over. jungwon PLEASE, i need your help.” sunghoon pleaded, his hands held together. “i need to know what she likes, what she dislikes, her hopes and dreams her everything PLEASE, I’M BEGGING.”

jungwon cringed at the volume of sunghoon’s voice, feelings the eyes of the strangers around him. “if i say yes, will you shut up?”

—-------

as you walked to your seat you realized that there was something sitting on your desk. glancing around, you noticed sunghoon sitting in the seat next to yours with a bright smile on his face. 

“good morning gorgeous!” he exclaimed. 

“oh shut up,” feeling your face heat up as you took your seat and examined the drink in front of you. it was a full cup of iced coffee, and from the looks of it, it was your usual coffee order. 

“i got that for you on the way here,” sunghoon said sheepishly, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “i asked your friend jungwon what you liked, and he told me that you like iced coffee so i figured i’d grab you one.” 

“oh… well thank you,” you replied, taking a tentative sip. you weren’t going to lie, it was sweet of him to reach out to jungwon and to get you coffee. you don’t think anyone other than your friends ever bought coffee for you. surely, not your cheating ex boyfriend, you thought bitterly. 

 your eyes widened slightly as you took that first sip; he had gotten your order down to how much sugar you liked and with extra caramel. 

sunghoon watched as you sipped on your drink, throwing a smile your way in response to your thank you. i’ve got her exactly where i want her, he thought, turning his attention back to the professor. 

as the class went by, sunghoon tried his best to stay awake, feeling his eyelids getting droopy. he had been up all night trying to decide which date he would take you on. even now he was thinking of how pretty you’d look, and how good you smell, and how pretty your smile was, and oh no why did his heart beat a little faster at the thought of you?

he was suddenly wide awake and extremely cautious about how loud his heart was beating when he looked over at you. he shook his head at his thoughts, reminding himself that this was just a bet he wanted to win. he was just confusing real feelings with fake ones. that had to be the only reason why he thought about your (hypothetical) date so much. right? 

as your class came to an end, sunghoon started to pack up his things, as your professor announced, “guys please don’t forget to study for our upcoming midterm exam next friday! i wish you all good luck with your studies!” 

sunghoon felt a his heart drop to his stomach. what exam? since when did they have an exam? he racked his brain trying to remember your professor say anything about an exam prior to this day. 

he had a faint memory of her saying something about an exam while he was scrolling through tiktok on his phone last week. oh i’m cooked, sunghoon thought. 

“hey, did you maybe wanna study together?” he heard you ask. he was so grateful that you offered to study that he thought he heard angels singing. “it’s just that on monday i couldn’t help but glance over and saw your notebook was empty, and i wanted to repay you for the coffee today.” 

sunghoon felt his face heat up from embarrassment. instead of admitting his embarrassment though, he instead said, “yeah of course you were paying attention to me, you want me so bad.”

“yea, nevermind about the studying then, fend for yourself,” you deadpanned, grabbing your bag. 

“wait, sorry i was just kidding, please help me study, i need help desperately,” sunghoon pleaded, grabbing onto your wrist before you could walk off. 

you ignored the tingles that were sent throughout your body from the physical touch and replied, “fine. meet me at the library at 3 today. i’ll be in one of the study rooms.” 

you walked away before he could say anything else, knowing if he flirted with you again, you might just fold. sure, he never would want a serious relationship with you of all people, but damn was that man good looking. 

you let your thoughts drift towards sunghoon as you made your way to your dorm. you thought of the coffee you were holding in your hand, and his hand around yours. you thought of his pretty smile and how tall he was, before you pushed those thoughts away. he quite literally did the bare minimum and you were blushing over that? he’d have to try harder to gain your attention (not that he didn’t have it already, you realized with embarrassment).

as you arrived at your dorm, you let yourself in with your key, seeing a familiar figure sitting at your desk. “hey jungwon.” 

“hey, wonyoung let me in before she left for class,” he mentioned your roommate, just barely glancing up from his phone as you set your coffee on the desk he was sitting at. 

 “you stopped to get coffee on the way here?” jungwon asked.

“no, sunghoon actually got it for me,” you replied nonchalantly, absentmindedly twirling the ends of your hair around your finger. 

“sunghoon? he was asking me about you the other day. is there anything going on between you two?” jungwon asked suggestively, nudging you lightly with his shoulder. 

“no? kinda? i mean, it was sweet of him to ask you about my coffee order i guess, and he’s definitely not an ugly guy, and then there’s also jake, but i mean i don’t know,” you answered honestly. your thoughts were so scrambled you felt like you were talking in circles. “i just don’t wanna be another one of those girls that he messes with for a month and then moves onto the next.”

jungwon nodded his head solemnly in response, “yeah when he asked me about you i was definitely very skeptical because of what we’ve heard of him, but he wanted to know about you like really bad so i don’t know. technically you don’t really have to take him too serious either, you know. you’re young, pretty and single, you should flirt around a bit! you can’t put all your eggs in one basket with jake.”

“ugh i know,” you groaned as you laid on your bed with a slight thump. “it’s like that guy’s oblivious to everything. you know, i asked him if he wanted to go out for dinner, and i show up to the restaurant and he brought jay with him! like i did my hair and makeup all nice and i put on my prettiest outfit and instead of being on a date i'm third wheeling him and jay!"

"yeah jake might be a little… slow. but i mean other than that he's the perfect package, right?" jungwon asked, turning in his seat so he was facing you. 

"honestly i don't even know anymore, i feel like i'm going crazy. all i've thought of today was sunghoon, and i'm seeing him later to study, jungwon what am i gonna do?"

"oh no you got it bad," jungwon sighed. 

"please don't say that i think i'll have to throw myself off a cliff."

"oh don't say that, he seemed like he genuinely wanted to get to know you when i was talking to him," jungwon shrugged. "he practically begged me for info on you."

"i don't know, i'll just see how it goes, play it by ear. i'll keep you updated," you sighed. 

—-------

you had been waiting for sunghoon for 20 minutes now and he still hasn't shown. you didn't have his number and you certainly didn't know his socials so you didn't have any way to text him. 

you felt a little humiliated as you started to pack your things up. why would sunghoon actually be taking this class serious? of course he didn’t care about this class, you felt stupid for even thinking so. 

you knew deep down this wasn’t about studying for an exam for a gen ed class. you knew you were hurt because a tiny part of you was excited to see sunghoon. as obnoxious as the boy was, he was very easy on the eyes. and in some small way, you felt like if he took this seriously maybe he'd take you seriously as well.

you might have been reading too much into it though.

just as you had zipped your bag up, sunghoon rushed into the study room, his hair messed up like he just woke up from bed. 

"sorry i'm late, i took a nap and my alarm didn't go off and i've never been to this side of the library so i had a bit of a hard time finding where you were," he apologized. 

"sunghoon if you didn't wanna study with me that's fine but if that's the case can you just tell me beforehand so that you don't waste my time?" you snapped. "if you don't wanna take your studies seriously then i really can’t help you."

"i am taking this seriously!" he exclaimed frantically, worried you'd leave. "i really am sorry i swear, i really really need your help please, y/n." 

you felt your heart flutter as you heard your name escape his lips. "fine, but you better pay attention or i'm never helping you again."

"thank you so much," he sighed in relief. "i'm not gonna lie, i haven't been paying attention at all in that class and i need all the help i can get."

"yeah, i can tell," you replied, before you could think your words through. "not saying you're dumb or anything i just noticed how you were on your phone like all the time."

"oh so you did notice me?" sunghoon asked, an eyebrow raised in question. "i don't know y/n, sounds to me like you're in love with me."

"whatever," you replied, choosing to ignore his comments as you pulled your notes out. "alright, we've got a week until our midterm, so we've gotta lock in if you wanna pass."

of course, that was easier said than done. 

sunghoon couldn't focus on the material when you were sitting right next to him, with your pretty hair and pretty smile and pretty lips and god did he wanna kiss you right then and there. 

"sunghoon? are you paying attention?" 

"yea of course," he answered, picking up his pen to pretend he knew what you were talking about. 

you narrowed your eyes but shrugged it off. you had been there for 2 hours, and sunghoon felt like it was going nowhere. it wasn't your fault though, it was his. 

it was like all he could think about was you. he had never ever felt this way about anyone. i'm going insane, he thought. 

"alright, so that wraps up the first three chapters. she'll be testing us on only chapters 1-5 so you're lucky. i'd recommend reviewing what we went over together just in case and we can meet up on monday if you want?" you asked. 

"yea no of course," sunghoon answered. "actually why don't i give you my number," he muttered, scribbling his number down on a sheet of paper. 

he ripped it off and handed it to you with a grin. "thanks for everything today y/n, you're a lifesaver."

"yeah, you're welcome," you replied quickly, looking away before he realized just how nervous you were. 

of course, he didn't notice though. he was worried that you would notice how nervous he was. and worried about teaching himself chapters 1-3 since he was being an idiot and wasn't paying attention. 

"i'll just uh text you when i get back to my dorm." you gave him a little smile and a wave before you left. 

thinking about sunghoon once again, you suddenly couldn't wait until monday.

—-------

friday you arrived at your class with sunghoon, a slight skip in your step. you sat in your usual seat, slightly awaiting his arrival (not that you’d ever tell him). as the start of class started to near, you found yourself looking for sunghoon, wondering where he was. 

you thought of texting him, picking up your phone to ask him where he was, but suddenly stopped yourself. no, you were not going to fold. you barely knew sunghoon, and just because he bought you coffee once doesn’t mean anything. 

just as your professor was getting started, you heard the door open, glancing over to see sunghoon hastily walk over to the seat beside you, two cups of coffee in hand. 

“sorry i was running late, i went to grab coffee for us and it was crazy busy at the cafe,” he whispered as he started to take his notes out. 

he handed you your cup, your exact order sitting before you. “sunghoon, you really didn’t have to.” 

he was now searching his bag for a pen, a pencil, hell even a highlighter to write his notes with. he had never cared for this class, but for some reason he wanted to impress you. “yeah yeah, i know i’m the greatest, do you have a pen by any chance?” 

“oh wow look at you sunghoon, i don’t think i’ve ever seen you care about this class so much,” you grinned, handing him a pencil from your bag. “but seriously, thanks. you don’t have to buy me coffee everyday.”

“it’s no biggie, we’re friends, aren’t we?” sunghoon smiled at you. he usually said this to girls to get in their pants, but with you, he meant it. he found himself wanting to be sincere and honest whenever he was with you. “and plus, you’re a saint for helping me study.”

he wanted to throw up with how sickeningly sweet you made him feel. 

“sure,” you replied, turning back to the lecture. 

you didn’t believe sunghoon. he may be pretty, but not pretty enough for you believe everything he said. he reminded you of your ex– willing to say and do anything to get what he wanted. sure, sunghoon hadn’t done anything bad to you, yet. you weren’t quite sure what sunghoon wanted, but you weren’t going to be one of his victims. you refused to be. 

“hey do you want to get dinner tonight? give us a break from studying?” he whispered. 

“dinner? oh how forward of you sunghoon, if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you liked me,” you chuckled, not bothering to look up from the notes you were taking.

“who said i didn’t?”

you turned your head to see he was already looking at you, a small smile on his face. he had to be lying, you deduced. he hadn’t even known your name three weeks ago and it’s not like the class you were in was huge. there was maybe less than 30 kids present. 

sunghoon himself felt a little nervous as the words slipped. he wasn’t sure why though. sunghoon had been in this situation millions of times, and he was always successful in getting what he wanted, so why the hell were you making him nervous?

“yeah whatever,” you shrugged him off. “if you like me so much, pick me up at 8.” 

“it’s a date.”

he was so quick with his flirtatious responses. too quick, you thought. that’s how you know he’s done this countless times. “whatever sunghoon, don’t make it weird, we’re just friends.”

“right…” he trailed off. friends? he pretty much asked you on a date and you friendzoned him? of course sunghoon could just stop pursuing you, but oh how he liked a challenge (and your smile and perfume and your laugh and the sound of your voice). 

you on the other hand, could feel your palms starting to sweat as you thought of your (somewhat?) date with sunghoon. what were you going to wear, where would you go to eat, what did he want with you, was this even a real date?

—--------

sitting at your local thai restaurant, silence surrounded you and sunghoon as you sipped on your thai tea. you had spent the past hour getting to know each other, talking about your classes, your friends, your families. you talked about your favorite movies, foods, music. at this point, you felt like you knew everything about him. you were the only people left in the restaurant, your food waiting to be boxed up.

“hi, i’ll take the check,” you said to your server as they dropped off some to-go boxes. 

“oh, it was already taken care of.”

you shot a betrayed look at sunghoon as your server walked away, telling you to have a nice night! “sunghoon, i told you i’d take care of the bill,” you huffed, packing up your food. 

“this is a date, y/n. a date that i asked you on, i’m not gonna let you pay,” sunghoon responded, as if this were obvious. “you can pay for our next date.”

“whatever,” you replied, trying to hide the small smile creeping on your face. 

“oh, so this is a date?” sunghoon asked, eyebrow raised. 

“i didn’t say that.”

“okay but you didn’t deny it when i called it that.”

you chose to ignore what he said. 

“and you didn’t say no when i brought up a second one?”

“oh in your dreams, hoon.”

hoon? you were already on a nickname basis? sunghoon thought. hearing his name come from your mouth had to be the most beautiful thing he ever heard. 

“come on, let me take you out again,” he pleaded, pouting. you sat for a moment in thought. 

“i’ll think about it.” 

“how come you don’t have a boyfriend already?” sunghoon asked. 

“not trying to say you’re like undateable or anything,” he rambled after he glanced up at you. “i just mean, a girl as great as you, i don’t see how you aren’t taken already.”

a minute passed, and then two as you tried to figure out if you wanted to dive into your baggage with the boy sitting in front of you. you decided that sunghoon really wasn’t as bad as you thought. not a bad enough person to make fun of you, at least.

“yea well, with a cheating ex boyfriend, it’s kinda hard for me to get back into dating. now i just feel like every guy i meet is gonna fuck me over somehow, you know? it’s just hard to find someone new when the last time i fell in love, i got my heart stomped on.” 

sunghoon let your words process in his mind, watching as you swirled the straw in your cup around, almost absentmindedly as you sat in thought. you hated feeling vulnerable. you don’t think you told anyone but jungwon about your ex. as you glanced up at sunghoon, you saw his gaze soften. 

“i get that,” he responded. “i was also cheated on.”

you looked at him quizzically, because who was dumb enough to cheat on park sunghoon? sure, he was a little annoying and cocky sometimes, and he was a player. but he seemed nice and funny, and he was rich and good looking. he was almost the complete package. if anything, you expected him to be the cheater. 

you immediately felt guilty after that thought, feeling that maybe you had judged sunghoon too soon.

“yea it was back in high school and um,” he paused, trying to gather his thoughts. you waited patiently as he did so, taking a sip of your drink. 

“she was my everything at the time. i mean, i know i was in high school, but i thought i would like, end up marrying her,” he continued with a dry chuckle. “but then i found out she was hooking up with some guy from a different school. i caught them at a party she thought i couldn’t go to. i know dating around is a horrible way to cope with heartbreak, but i can’t get my heart broken again if i break the other person’s heart first, right?” 

you sat in silence for a bit. you started to feel a bond start to form between the two of you as you let what he said sink in. maybe sunghoon was right about how dating around wasn’t good, but at least he’s self aware! he just didn’t want to get hurt, and in a way, didn’t that make him like you?

you reached your hand across the table to hold onto his out of comfort, sending tingles throughout his body as he looked up at you,“i’m sorry, hoon. it sucks, i know. and thanks for sharing this with me. you can always talk to me about anything anytime, okay?”

a small smile formed on his face as he looked at you; so caring, so understanding, so perfect. 

“hey, y/n, sunghoon!” you heard a familiar voice exclaim. you could recognize that voice from anywhere, you realized as you turned to see jake making his way towards you. jungwon followed behind him, eyebrows raised at the sight of you and sunghoon together outside of a school setting. you quickly retracted your hand from his, fixing your hair, tucking your hair behind your ears. 

this didn’t go unnoticed by sunghoon, who felt a twinge of jealousy. just when he thought he had make a break through, here comes jake.

“what a coincidence bumping into you guys!” jake smiled. “i didn’t know you guys knew each other.” 

“oh yea, it seems like you know each other very well,” jungwon replied suggestively. you had never wanted to beat jungwon up so bad in your entire life. “are you guys here on a date?”

“no.”

“yes.” 

you and sunghoon both answered at the same time. you could feel sunghoon’s betrayed gaze on you as your face started to warm up. “no, we’re not on a date, we’ve just been studying so much we figured we’d get some dinner as a reward. as friends. because that’s what sunghoon and i are, just friends.” 

you felt your face get even warmer as you rambled on, wishing someone would stop you from talking. 

“oh okay!” jake exclaimed. “well jungwon and i were just picking up some food, and we were gonna head to my apartment if you guys wanted to stop by after your dinner? we’re doing a movie night.”

you glanced over at sunghoon, taking a second to try to decipher what he was thinking. you could tell he was upset that you said you weren’t on a date, but to be fair, was this even really a date? you were still trying to figure that out yourself.

“uh, no thanks jake. sunghoon and i are probably going out for dessert after this,” you replied. 

sunghoon’s head snapped up. you were saying no to hanging out with jake?

you on the other hand, had remembered what jungwon had told you earlier this week– how you shouldn’t put all of your eggs in jake’s basket. jungwon seemed to remember this as well as he gave you a smile and a small thumbs up. you only smiled and shook your head in response. 

being with sunghoon tonight just felt so right. in every way possible. you wanted to see where this would lead. sunghoon didn’t seem as bad as everyone else painted him out to be. 

“oh well that’s alright, there’s always some other time,” jake replied. “we’ll get going then, see you later guys!”

you waved the duo goodbye and waited until they were out of earshot before you turned to sunghoon. “so, wanna get ice cream or something? i’ll pay this time.”

“no, it’s okay,” sunghoon shook his head in response. “i think i’m just gonna go home, go to bed early.”

was that hurt that you saw on his face?

“hoon, i’m sorry-,”

“no, it’s okay,” he replied. “this wasn’t a date anyways, right? no hard feelings at all.”

there were hard feelings, you could tell. “i’ll drive you back to your dorm.”

as hurt as sunghoon was, he wasn’t going to let you walk home alone in the middle of the night. 

the car ride was quick. you felt like the drive home was faster than the drive to the restaurant, but you weren’t sure if it was because sunghoon didn’t want to be in the same space as you, or if you were simply overthinking.

there was a tense silence surrounding you as he pulled into your dorm building parking lot. “thanks for tonight hoon, i had fun,” you finally said as he put his car into park. “i guess i’ll see you monday? so that we can go over chapters 4 and 5?” 

your heart raced at the thought of seeing him again, your fingers moving to fiddle with the little charm you had hanging off your tote bag. you were nervous. you hadn’t even left his car yet and you were already getting excited to see him again. 

“i actually think i’ll be okay,” sunghoon responded, avoiding eye contact with you. “i’ll just see you in class.”

“oh,” you replied. you felt a wave of disappointment hit you as you unbuckled your seatbelt. “well then i’ll see you around.” 

sunghoon watched to make sure you got inside safely before backing out of his parking spot, driving back in the direction of his apartment. 

he felt like maybe he was acting a bit overdramatic, but he couldn’t help the hurt he felt when you were flirting with him not even two minutes before jake showed up, and then you wanted to act like you were nothing more than study buddies. or in your words, just friends! he was vulnerable with you, and he felt like maybe there was something between you now.

apparently not, he thought bitterly.

sunghoon knew he shouldn’t feel so hurt, because at the end of the day, he didn’t have the best intentions when he approached you at yeonjun’s party. he felt guilt wash over him as he remembered what you said about your ex, and then thought of the bet he had made with heeseung.

maybe this was a bad idea after all, he thought. sunghoon had never cared for any of the girls he met before you, and now suddenly you were all he cared about; he wore his nicest clothes when he knew he’d see you, spray his fancy cologne, do his hair extra nice. he’d even went out of his way every morning to get you his favorite coffee even though your favorite cafe was in the opposite direction of your school. 

oh, sunghoon had it bad. 

—--------

sunghoon had been avoiding you since your (sorta) date. you still weren’t even sure what it was, you just knew that being with him was fun. he was nicer than you thought he’d be, and he was really funny. to say you were surprised was an understatement. you had even had the same taste in music and movies. it felt like he was you in another body.

monday had rolled by and just as sunghoon said, he didn’t show up to the library. he didn’t even sit next to you in class earlier that day. you had tried to wave him over to take the seat next you, tried to catch up with him in the halls, but he had just avoided your gaze and sped-walked away. 

of course, any kind of rejection would hurt, but you took a hard blow to this especially. you weren’t sure why. you didn’t know sunghoon for long, but you never felt so close to someone in such a short span of time. you don’t think you’ve felt this way since your ex.

thursday, you sat in your usual spot at the library, doing some last minute cramming for your midterm the next day. it was late at night, and you had been studying for hours on end. you decided you studied enough, and that there was only so much you could do, as you started to pack your laptop and notebooks into your bag. 

“hey,” you heard a familiar voice say in front of you. 

you looked up and saw sunghoon, out of breath. 

“hey.”

“sorry, give me a second, i ran here from your dorm.”

“how’d you know i’d be here?” you asked as you put your bag on. 

“your roommate told me where you were after i wouldn’t stop knocking on your door. and i knew the library closed soon and i just needed to see you now, before i regret not saying this.” 

“hoon, the library’s open all night now, they changed the hours like a month ago. what did you need to say-,”

“i’m sorry about how our date ended,” he cut you off. 

“okay wait, i’m not sorry for being hurt,” he backtracked. “but i am sorry about how i handled it. i just haven’t been on a serious date in a long time. so when you were talking to jake, i got jealous and i was hurt that you said that we were just friends, when to me it felt like we had something more. i should’ve told you then, like an adult, instead of icing you out, and i’m sorry.”

you felt guilt wash over you as you remembered how you acted, “hoon i’m really-,” 

“wait, let me finish first, please,” he interrupted yet again. you only nodded in response as he continued. “i was wondering why i was so hurt, and it dawned on me that i like you, a lot more than i thought i would. i think you’re funny, and one of the smartest and nicest people in the world if you would offer to tutor an idiot like me. i think you’re the only person i’ve wanted to take serious since high school, and i just hope that maybe you felt the same way?” 

he searched your face for a sign, any indication that you felt the same way. your expression was unreadable, still processing everything sunghoon had just said. 

at this point, everyone else in the library had left. a minute had passed, then two before sunghoon sighed. “it’s alright, you don’t have to give me an answer now.” he turned to do the walk of shame, already feeling the tips of his ears turning pink. well at least i went for it.

“wait,” you called after him, grabbing onto his wrist. he turned back around to face you, your face heating up as you continued. “i’m sorry for the way i acted. i was being an idiot. i think that night was the most fun i’ve had in a while, and i don’t think i’ve ever been so comfortable with someone who wasn’t jungwon. i just panicked when jake and jungwon saw us together, and i am so so sorry. i’m sorry if i made you feel like i was leading you on.” 

you don’t think you ever felt your heart beat so fast, and you really hoped your hands weren’t sweaty. you’ve never felt so nervous in your life, and you felt terrible for how you made sunghoon feel. you felt like the guilt was going to eat you alive if he didn’t forgive you. 

“it’s alright, i forgive you,” sunghoon smiled, much to your relief. god, his smile was perfect. 

“good,” you smiled, a sigh of relief escaping your lips. 

“you didn’t tell me if you felt the same way,” sunghoon responded.

you interlocked your fingers with his, hoping your hands weren’t as clammy as you thought they were, “i thought it was obvious.”

“apparently not obvious enough,” sunghoon grinned. 

—--------

it had been six months since that day and you were the happiest girl in the world. sunghoon was everything you ever wanted in a partner. nice, smart, funny. not only did he treat you well, but he also treated your family well. visiting your parents with him, he always helped clean up after dinner, always brought a bouquet of flowers for your mother, always helped your dad with anything he needed. 

everything was perfect. you even thought you were falling in love with him. you didn’t tell sunghoon this just yet though, out of fear that he didn’t feel the same way. 

you decided tonight would be the night though. after a night out with friends you were spending the night at sunghoon’s apartment, and that was when you would tell him, in the comfort of his home. to you, it didn’t have to be a big proclamation, it didn’t have to be at some fancy dinner or at some fancy event. to you, it was all about the little things, and as long as you were with sunghoon, nothing else mattered. 

so here you were, laughing at some joke heeseung had just made. the night was coming to an end, the rest of your friends had already left, leaving you and sunghoon alone with heeseung in his apartment. 

this wasn’t the first time you had hung out with sunghoon’s friends. they were all nice and funny, despite their horrendous reputations around campus. you found that just like sunghoon, they grew on you over time.

“you ready to go, my love?” sunghoon asked you. 

“yea, i just need to run to the bathroom before we go,” you answered, giving his hand a little squeeze before getting up. 

once heeseung heard the bathroom door close, he pretended to gag. “god, you guys are so gross.” 

“whatever,” sunghoon rolled his eyes. “i think you’re just jealous.”

these past six months have been the best of sunghoon’s life. he didn’t think he was even capable of being this happy. he loved you; every single thing about you. you were the sun that he revolved around and the air that he breathed. you were his everything. 

“so when are you gonna dump her?” heeseung asked, snapping sunghoon out of his thoughts of you. heeseung asked this so casually, as if he didn’t just ask when sunghoon would break up with the love of his life. 

“what are you talking about?”

“dude, do you not remember how this whole thing even started?” heeseung chuckled. “i thought you were just with her for our bet.”

“no that’s not-,”

“you won, by the way. honestly, i was scared you’d bring the bet back up, but now that hockey’s over i don’t think i’ll mind doing your laundry too much.” heeseung cut him off. “she is completely in love with you. like, she looks like she’d do anything for you man. now that you’ve won, you can just dump her. wasn’t that what you were gonna do anyways?”

sunghoon heard heeseung’s front door open and close, the sound of rapid footsteps following it immediately after. 

you had heard what heeseung had said. 

“fuck,” sunghoon muttered. he raced to grab his things and to follow after you, ignoring whatever else heeseung had to say. nothing else in the world mattered now, because how the fuck was sunghoon going to explain this to you?

you, on the other hand, felt like an idiot. of course park sunghoon wasn’t actually into you. of course you were a bet because what other reason could there be? you weren’t some fabulous daughter of a ceo, you weren’t a division one athlete, you weren’t even top of your class. nothing about you stood out, so why would he want to be with you of all people? 

“y/n please,” you heard sunghoon shout after you. you chose to ignore him, hearing rapid footsteps as he jogged to catch up to you, “y/n, stop please.” 

his hand wrapped around your wrist. you hated that even now, your heart fluttered as you heard your name leave his mouth, butterflies in your stomach at the physical contact of his hand around yours. 

“i know you’re mad at me, but let me drive you home.”

“i’d rather walk then get in a car with you, park sunghoon,” you snapped, snatching your hand out of his. he shrinked at the sound of his full name coming out of your mouth. you hadn’t called him that since before your first date. 

it started to drizzle at this point, and you weren’t sure if what you felt on your face was the rain or your own tears. 

“you’re so full of yourself. all you know is how to manipulate and hook up with whoever throws themself at you. you’re nothing but a pathetic loser who doesn’t know how to love because no one’s ever loved you.”

“but i thought you loved me,” he breathed, his eyes searching yours. of course, this wasn’t something that was spoken upfront. it was never confirmed by you, but you didn’t need to say it. he just knew that you loved him because he loved you. he was desperate now, eyes searching all over your face for some sort of confirmation, a small smile, a nod, anything, that indicated that you loved him. 

a wave of deja vu washed over the two of you, the moment almost exactly mirroring your moment at the library; the lingering touches, the desperate gazes. that was one of the happiest days of your life, and now you didn’t even know if sunghoon meant what he said that day or if he was just saying what you wanted to hear. how the fuck did the two of year get here?

“i don’t love you sunghoon. i never did and i never will. you’re an idiot if you think i’d love someone like you.”

you felt sick to your stomach. you didn’t mean what you were saying. it was like you couldn’t stop the words coming from your mouth, like you weren’t even in control of your own body. the words escaped your mouth so fast you couldn’t even process what you were saying. you couldn’t even register the guilt you were feeling until you took in sunghoon’s hurt expression; eyes wide with tears, nose starting to turn red and stuffy. 

“oh,” he replied, so softly that you could barely hear him. 

he sounded so small now, a stark contrast to how he seemed; tall, confident, outspoken. now he was like a lost little boy, and your heart physically felt like it was hurting knowing you were the one that made him feel this way.

it had started pouring by this point. you were gonna get sick if you stayed out in the rain, sunghoon thought. even when you were tearing his heart out, all he could think of was you. all he cared about was you. 

“i see how it is then, y/n,” he started to back away from you, eyes searching yours once again, giving you one final chance to take back what you said. he thought you had loved him, and he was so so sure he felt the same, because why else did it feel like his heart was being stepped on? why else did he feel like jumping off the face of the earth? why else did he feel so hurt?

“sunghoon i didn’t-,”

“yes you did,” he cut you off. “you meant all of it. and you were right. all i do is manipulate and hook up with people, but you? you are- were,” he corrected himself, taking a deep breath between words.  “you were the realest relationship i’ve ever had.” 

you took a deep breath as you felt yourself start to sob, your vision blurring as sunghoon continued, “i shouldn’t have made that stupid bet with heeseung, and i apologize for that. what we had might have started off fake, but trust me when i say that somewhere along the line, i really did fall for you. it was like one day you were suddenly everywhere; you’re the earth that keeps me grounded, you’re in every love song i listen to and you’re the air that i breathe. you’re my everything, y/n.”

you were never one to cry, but now you were bawling your eyes out, wanting so so desperately to tell sunghoon that you felt the same way, that he was your everything, that he was the only person for you, that he wasn’t perfect, but perfect for you. that he was made for you and you were made for him and that you forgave him and you loved him and all you wanted to do was be with him.

but how could you believe him? after what you found out tonight how could you know he wasn’t just lying to your face again? you felt like your head was spinning and you had a thousand thoughts running through your mind at once. you wanted to hug him, kiss his tears away, tell him that you loved him, that everything will be fixed and everything will be okay. 

instead of doing so, you stood your ground.

 “goodbye sunghoon.”

sunghoon let you walk away, despite the fact that he felt like he was dying. your goodbye sounded so final, you were slipping away and sunghoon was going to let you. he was letting you walk away because he loved you. god, he loved you more than the moon loved the stars and more than romeo had loved juliet. he loved you so much that he realized that he wasn’t good for you. that in order for you to be happy, he would have to disappear from your life. 

which is exactly what he did. 

—--------

a month had passed, and jungwon was begging you to go to yeonjun’s end of the year party.

you had kept to yourself after the breakup, focusing on your studies, basically living at the library now. you avoided heeseung and sunghoon, and everytime you had heard one of their names being mentioned by your peers, you simply tuned it out, not wanting to hear if sunghoon had already moved on or not. 

you were still not over sunghoon. it hurt hearing his name, hurt seeing old pictures of you two together, even thinking about him ruined the remainder of your day. you knew you were supposed to be mad at him. he lied to you, he betrayed your trust, he dated you for a bet. all of this made you feel guilty for missing him. 

you missed waking up next to him, you missed taking his dog on walks together. you missed visiting your parents together (who you didn’t have the heart to tell that you and sunghoon were no longer dating), you missed going out to that thai restaurant every friday night, and you missed fighting with him over who would pay the bill. you missed the way he looked at you, the way he’d play with your hair until you fell asleep. you missed his everything. 

yet here jungwon was, dragging you out of your dorm after finally convincing you to go to yeonjun’s party. “you know what they say! the only way to get over somebody is to hook up with somebody else.”

“i doubt i’m going home with anyone tonight,” you scoffed as you arrived to yeonjun’s house, the sound of music being heard through the front door. “you know i suck at having one night stands.”

“even if you don’t, i just want you to have fun,” jungwon replied earnestly. “i haven’t seen you happy in a while. you deserve to be.” 

you felt tears prick your eyes at his kind words, which you blinked away, “whatever, let’s just get to partying!”

an hour in, and you were already regretting your decision to come. you had lost jungwon somewhere in the crowd, and you didn’t have the energy to look around for him. yeonjun’s house was so big that there was no way you could find jungwon on your first try. 

you instead opted to explore the house you were in until you stumbled upon a bedroom which was (thankfully) empty. 

this is probably yeonjun’s room, you thought as you sat on the edge of his bed, making sure you didn’t mess up his sheets. as you looked around at the decor yeonjun had hung up on his walls, you heard the door open. 

your eyes met sunghoon’s and it was almost like the wind got knocked out of you. you didn’t need to look at the rest of him to know it was him. you knew his eyes from anywhere.

breaking eye contact, you studied the rest of him. he looked as good as ever, not a single hair out of place. 

“hey,” you said lamely, watching as his face sunk as he looked at you. ouch. “i can leave if you want, if you’re like, looking to hook up with someone or something.” those words physically pained you to say. leaving a room you were hiding in first so that your ex boyfriend could hook up with someone else? it sounded pathetic.

you started to grab your drink and your bag before sunghoon stopped you. “no it’s okay, i just needed to get away from the party and i was just spooked to see you. i didn’t think i’d see you again. and plus, i haven’t been seeing anyone since us.” 

us. you felt your heart squeeze a bit at the single word. you were so sure that sunghoon would start seeing other people after your breakup, and you felt like a loser for rotting in bed while you assumed he was out with other people. 

“oh,” you muttered.

you sat in silence for a bit, with you sat on the edge of the bed, and sunghoon stood by the door, looking as if he’d leave whenever you wanted him to.

“you can come sit if you want,” you patted the bed beside you. “there’s enough room for both of us.”

sunghoon raised his eyebrow in question but didn’t hesitate to sit beside you, his familiar cologne hitting you. 

“hoon, i miss you.”

sunghoon wasn’t sure if you meant what you were saying or if you had one too many drinks. he didn’t want to get his hopes up. 

“are you sure you haven’t had too much to drink?” he chuckled dryly.

“no, this is just sprite, i didn’t wanna get too drunk, i have a final i still need to study for,” you responded. 

the awkward tension sitting between the two of you made you want to jump out a window. things were never awkward between you and sunghoon before and you hated that it was awkward now. fuck, why isn’t he saying anything? you thought. does he not miss me? this is so embarrassing. 

before you could stop yourself, just like the night of your break up, you suddenly started talking faster than your brain could process.

“i’m sorry for what i said the last time we saw each other. i was hurt and i also felt betrayed that you would do that to me because i loved you and you knew about my ex, so it kinda felt like a slap to the face,” you rambled. “but i miss you. there hasn’t been a day that i haven’t missed you, hoon.”

sunghoon didn’t know what to say. he felt like he was dreaming. you missed him?

“you loved me?” sunghoon asked instead, not believing his ears. he needed to hear you say it again, needed to hear those three words fall from your lips one more time. he needed this reassurance that his feelings were reciprocated.  

“i still love you, i think. it’s just hard for me to fall for you again when things ended the way they did,” you continued. “hoon, if we do this again, i need you to be honest with me. about everything.”

he slowly inched his hands toward yours, scared that if he moved too fast you’d leave. when he saw you weren’t moving away, he grasped your hands in his, the feeling of your hands interlocked was the feeling he had missed most of all. 

“i promise things will be different this time,” he said earnestly, his eyes searching yours for any sort of uncertainty at the words he spoke. “i meant every single thing i said that night. i love you y/n, with every fiber of my being. i know we can’t immediately go back to the way things were, but i will do everything i can to gain your trust back. i’ll get on my knees right now and start begging if i have to.”

“well that doesn’t seem like a bad idea,” you teased. “do you really love me?” 

“i thought it was obvious.”

“apparently not obvious enough.”

[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.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Hi lovelies! If you made it all the way to the end I hope you enjoyed. I’ve had a few people ask for a drabble or two based off this. if you want to see this click this and comment below your suggestions and what you want to see.

anyway thanks for reading!!💛

[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

[swiftjay23]

RENT-FREE! -> enhypen hyung line's favourite roommate!

ROOM FOR RENT — ONE FEMALE ROOMMATE WANTED Cheap rent, expensive consequences, first come, first served, unless you're too busy getting railed to answer the text! No refunds! RULES ON THE FRIDGE: -Panties banned after 8 p.m. -Movie nights on someone’s lap. -Counter sex while dinner cooks. -Daily spankings, gropes, throat-fucks, and creampies like it’s rent payment. INSPIRED BY 'YOUR TURN' STARRING @mssishipi!

pairing: roommates!hyungline x reader !

warnings: poly relationship strong language possessiveness jealousy alcohol mild power imbalance crashing dates fights slight drama between the guys porn with plot

warnings (smut): read if you're okay with filthy shit (mama them men are real big idiots) free use spit roasting gangbang creampie breeding kink cumplay degradation size kink squirting overstimulation edging spit play choking unprotected sex double penetration anal sex aftercare cumplay titjob titplay blowjob handjob cunnilingus oral (both f and m rec) mean doms choking manhandling rough sex recording overstimulation aftercare heavy

playlist: High for This by The Weeknd [] Friends by Chase Atlantic [] Oxytocin by Billie Eilish [] Swim by Chase Atlantic []

likes and reblogs for a cookie!

☆ WORD COUNT: 24.9K!

(Masterlist)

THE FLYER WAS TAPED CROOKED TO THE COMMUNITY BOARD in the lobby of your old building, curling at one corner like it had tried to escape and given up halfway through. The corkboard itself was a graveyard of desperation, lost cats with blurry photos, guitar lessons from a man named Reginald who swore he toured “almost professionally,” a babysitting offer written in glitter pen. But this one, this violently neon pink rectangle, felt different.

Black Sharpie, pressed hard enough to dent the cardstock.

ROOM FOR RENT — ONE FEMALE ROOMMATE WANTED

- 5-bedroom apartment downtown. Utilities split 5 ways. No pets, no drama, no bullshit. - Must be clean, chill, and okay with guys. Serious inquiries only. - Four guys already here, all employed, clean(ish), no drama. Serious inquiries only. - Text 82-10-XXXX-XXXX. First come, first served. 

Don't waste our time.

No photos. No bullet points about ‘respectful boundaries’ or ‘shared Netflix password.’ Just that blunt, cocky little block of text, like they knew exactly what kind of person would bite anyway. The rent figure was unreal, half what you'd been paying for your shoebox studio that smelled faintly of regret and yesterday's takeout. You stared at it for a full minute, thumb hovering over your phone screen, heart doing that stupid flutter thing it does when you're about to make a decision that's either genius or catastrophic.  

And then there was the line written in red pen, scrawled untidily, looking like a disastrous attempt at cursive.

“She better be hot lol”

Crossed out once, aggressively. Then underlined twice, like whoever wrote it had second thoughts about the shame and decided to recommit. You stared at that part the longest.

Your current apartment smelled like damp carpet and stale air no matter how many candles you burned. The windows rattled every time the train passed. Your landlord had the audacity to send out a mass email about a “maintenance fee adjustment” that was definitely just code for I bought a new car and you’re helping pay for it.

Rent had started to feel like a chokehold. And this, four guys, one girl, big downtown apartment, utilities split five ways, was a stupidly good number. Too good. Which should have been your first red flag. 

Your reflection in the lobby mirror looked tired. A little reckless. The kind of girl who was one bad decision away from either ruining her life or improving it dramatically. You took a picture of the flyer. You hesitated.

You zoomed in on the red scribble. You told yourself you were an adult. That you could handle four random men in a shared space. That this was just housing, not a horror movie opening scene.  Then you texted the number before your common sense could wrestle your thumbs away.

You: Hi, saw the flyer for the roommate spot. Still available? Interested if the details match up. What's the move-in date?

The three dots appeared almost instantly. Then disappeared. Then appeared again. Your stomach did that awful, fluttery dip it does before you step into something you can’t undo.

Unknown: yeah it's open. u got a name sweetheart?

Sweetheart. You actually rolled your eyes. You told yourself you rolled your eyes. But something warm slid low in your stomach anyway. Casual ownership. Teasing. A test.

You: Y/N. And yeah, I do. When can I come see it?

The typing bubbles came back. Stayed. Disappeared. Came back again. Then your phone vibrated with a voice note instead of text. You stared at it for a full second.

Who the fuck sends voice notes to strangers?

You slipped in one earbud like you were about to overhear something you weren’t meant to. You hit play. Chaos. Not the polite kind. Not the muffled, distant kind. The kind that sounds like bodies moving and furniture scraping and too many voices in one space.

“—told you the flyer was too obvious, dumbass—”

“Shut the fuck up, she texted, didn’t she?”

“Bet she’s mid. Fifty says she’s mid.”

“Fifty says she’s a freak who’ll cry after one night.”

Explosive laughter. Low and rough and layered. Someone swore. There was a thud like someone got shoved into a couch. Another voice yelling, “Give me the phone—”

Your pulse was in your throat. It felt intrusive. Intimate. Like you were already inside their space, hearing something raw and unfiltered. Then the chaos snapped. Cut clean. A different presence took over. Closer to the mic. Lower.

“...Y/N, right?” Your name sounded slower in his mouth. Like he’d rolled it around once before saying it.

“This is Heeseung.”

The way he said it wasn’t introduction. It was declaration. The background noise dimmed, not because the room got quieter, but because he stepped away from it. You could picture it without trying: him turning his back to the others, leaning against something, one hand braced on a counter, phone lifted close enough that his breath ghosted the mic.

The kind of voice that didn’t rush. The kind that didn’t need to. “Place is still open. Come by tomorrow. 7 p.m. sharp. We’ll be here.”

We’ll be here. Not I’ll be here. A collective. A warning. There was a beat of silence. Not awkward. Deliberate. “Bring your shit if you like what you see. We don’t do second viewings.”

And then it ended. No goodbye. No emoji. No softening. Just the click of the recording stopping, leaving his voice hanging in your ear like smoke in a closed room. You sat on your sagging futon with the cheap springs poking through the cushion and replayed it. Twice.

The arguing in the background. The laughter. The careless comments. The way he had cut through all of it like a knife sliding into silk. You told yourself they sounded like idiots. You told yourself this was exactly the kind of environment you’d sworn you’d never put yourself in. But your thighs pressed together anyway, tension curling low and restless, not quite fear and not quite excitement.

You imagined the apartment. Exposed brick. Too much space. Music playing too loud. A kitchen that actually had room to breathe in. Four men who moved through it like they owned it. And one empty room.

Waiting. You should have blocked the number. Should have deleted the thread. Should have found a nice, quiet girls-only share in the suburbs where the biggest drama would be someone stealing your almond milk. Instead, you typed back.

You: 7 p.m. tomorrow. Address?

The reply came faster this time.

Heeseung: [pinned location]Don’t be late, sweetheart. We hate waiting.

You read that last line more than once. We hate waiting. It sounded less like a preference and more like a rule. You packed that night with a strange kind of calm. One duffel bag. Just enough clothes to rotate for a few days. Toiletries. Charger. The essentials. You folded each item slowly, like you were preparing for something bigger than just a new address.

Your studio looked even smaller with your things missing. The walls felt closer. The air heavier. You stood in the middle of it and imagined tomorrow. The elevator ride up. The door opening. Four sets of eyes. The apartment smelling like expensive cologne and something darker. Smoke, maybe. Leather. Ego.

You imagined him. Them. All four of them. Either unfairly good-looking men who were complete assholes, or unimpressive men who were still complete assholes. The asshole part was a constant. The hotness was the only variable.

Not that it mattered. Of course it didn’t.

You didn’t know his face, but you knew the voice. Low. Steady. Amused. The kind of voice that didn’t rush for anyone.

You imagined the smirk you’d heard through the speaker, lazy, confident, practiced. Probably rich, too. Not new-money loud, but old-money careless. Daddy’s money had a look. It looked like never checking price tags.

You zipped the duffel closed. This was reckless. Stupid, even. The kind of decision that looked sensible only from far away, like a bruise that passed for lavender in low light. Rent had been pressing in for months, a dull gray weight at the base of your skull, constant as weather. You told yourself that was all this was. Survival. Logistics. Math.

But that wasn’t the whole truth. There was something about his voice. Not the depth of it, not even the amusement. It was the contrast, the velvet laid carefully over something serrated. Chaos humming behind glass. Control presented like a gift.

It had sounded dark blue through the speaker. Not navy. Not midnight. Something electric and expensive. The kind of blue that didn’t apologize for swallowing light. You should have been afraid of it.

Maybe you were. But the risk didn’t feel like falling. Falling was abrupt. Colorless. Final. This felt different. It felt like stepping across the gold line in a painting, the one the artist never meant anyone to cross. Like touching wet paint just to see if it would stain. Like walking into a story that had already decided what to do with you.

7 p.m. Sharp. You arrive at 6:58 p.m.

Not because you’re punctual by nature, but because something about Don’t be late. We hate waiting. lodged under your skin and stayed there all day.

The building is taller than you expected. Glass-fronted. Industrial. The kind of place that tries to look effortless and ends up looking expensive instead. The lobby smells faintly of artificially scented cleaner, probably lemon, and polished concrete. Exposed brick climbs one wall in a deliberate, curated way that says urban charm instead of structural compromise.

You stand in front of the elevator with your duffel bag hooked over one shoulder and a medium-sized suitcase at your side. You told yourself you’d bring only what you needed for a week.

You lied.

The elevator doors slide open with a soft metallic sigh. You step inside. Your reflection in the mirrored walls looks smaller than you feel. Lip gloss reapplied in the car. Hair brushed back into place. A quiet, deliberate choice in your outfit, effortless enough to pretend you didn’t try, fitted enough to know you did.

The numbers climb. Your pulse climbs with them. You tell yourself this is housing. Just housing. Four men sharing rent in a five-bedroom apartment isn’t unheard of. This isn’t a cult. This isn’t a frat house. This isn’t—

The elevator dings. The doors part. And the first thing you hear is laughter. It spills into the hallway like it lives there. Low, overlapping, careless. The door to their unit is already open. You don’t knock. You step inside.

The apartment is bigger than the pictures could’ve shown. High ceilings with steel beams running across them. Floor-to-ceiling windows pouring in late afternoon light that turns everything gold. A massive sectional couch in charcoal gray dominates the living space. There’s a long dining table made of reclaimed wood, scuffed in places that look intentional.

Music hums low from somewhere, bass-heavy, lazy. And then, you see them. All four of them. Shirtless. You stop walking. They’re scattered across the living area in a way that suggests they were doing something physical, lifting, maybe, but not something that required shirts. One is crouched by a stack of flattened cardboard boxes. Another leans against the kitchen island with a bottle of water tipped to his lips. Someone else stands near the couch, forearms flexed as he adjusts the hem of his joggers.

They notice you at the same time. Conversation dies. It’s not dramatic. Not loud. It just… stops. Four pairs of eyes land on you. And stay there. You feel it before you process it. The weight of being looked at. Not glanced. Not politely assessed. Looked at. Slowly. Thoroughly. Like you’re an answer to a question they’ve already been debating.

The one by the kitchen island lowers his bottle first. He’s tall. Lean muscle, not bulky. Collarbone sharp under the light. Damp hair pushed back from his forehead like he’s just showered or run a hand through it too many times. His gaze drags over you without apology. From your shoes. Up your legs.

To your waist. Your chest. Your mouth. Your eyes. He doesn’t look away when you meet his stare. That has to be Heeseung. The voice fits.

“Y/N.”

It isn’t a question. Your name sounds different in the open air of the apartment. Deeper. Warmer. More tangible. “Yeah.” Your voice comes out steady, which surprises you.

He pushes off the island and walks toward you. The other three follow slower, not crowding but not retreating either. You become aware of everything at once. The quiet click of your suitcase wheels settling. The way your fingers tighten around the strap of your duffel. The faint sheen of sweat along their collarbones.

They must’ve been moving furniture. Or maybe they just wanted an excuse to be shirtless when you arrived. The thought hits you uninvited. And then,  you realize you’re staring, too. One of them, broader shoulders, dark hair falling into his eyes, lets out a low whistle.

“Not mid,” he mutters.

The guy beside him elbows his ribs. A cocky grin already spreading over his lips nonetheless before he disrupts it by caging his lower lip between his teeth. “Shut up.” Heat crawls up your neck.

Heeseung stops about three feet in front of you. Close enough that you can see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw. Close enough to smell something clean and subtle, soap, maybe, or skin warmed by movement. He tilts his head slightly.

“You’re on time.”

“I said I would be.”

A corner of his mouth lifts. Behind him, one of the others steps forward and grabs your suitcase handle before you can protest. “We’ll take that.”

It’s said casually, but there’s something about the way he says we again that makes your stomach dip. The fourth one finally speaks. “You bring everything?”

“Just enough to survive a week,” you reply.

He laughs. “Smart.” They move around you with unsettling ease. Not touching you. Not yet. But close enough that the air shifts when they pass. You step fully into the apartment as your suitcase is rolled toward the hallway. The door shuts behind you with a quiet click that feels louder than it should. You turn slowly, taking in the space.

The kitchen is massive, marble countertops, stainless steel appliances, open shelving that somehow looks organized despite the presence of four men. There are plants near the windows. A guitar propped casually against the wall.

This isn’t a mess. It isn’t chaotic. It’s lived-in. Comfortable. Dangerously comfortable. “Room’s down the hall,” Heeseung says. “Last one on the right.”

You nod, but you don’t move yet. Because they’re still looking at you. Not in a way that feels crude. But undeniably… interested. Assessing. One of them, taller than the rest, sharper features, leans back against the wall and crosses his arms. His eyes crinkle,  “So,” he says slowly. “You cool living with guys?” The question isn’t innocent. You lift your chin slightly.

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

His gaze flickers, approval, maybe. The broad-shouldered one smirks.

“You get easily offended?”

“No.”

“You snore?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Got a boyfriend?”

The question lands differently. You glance at Heeseung. He hasn’t spoken. He’s watching you. Waiting. You meet his eyes and answer evenly, “No.”

The silence that follows is subtle, but it shifts something. Like a door quietly unlocking. Heeseung gestures down the hall. “Come see your room.”

You follow. The hallway is lined with closed doors. Music grows fainter as you move away from the main space. Your suitcase wheels roll softly against polished concrete. He opens the last door and steps aside to let you in first. The room is bigger than you expected.

Large window. Soft gray walls. A queen-sized bed frame already assembled. A desk near the corner. Closet doors sliding open to reveal empty hangers. It doesn’t feel like someone just left it. It feels like it was waiting.

You step inside. He follows. The others hover at the doorway, leaning casually against the frame like they’re watching a show. “Well?” one of them asks. You set your duffel down on the bed.

“It’s… really nice.” Heeseung walks to the window and pulls the curtain slightly, letting more light in.

“Told you. No bullshit.” He turns to face you fully. There’s something different now that you’re in a smaller space. More contained. More charged. You can feel the other three just outside the room. Listening. You cross your arms loosely.

“What’s the actual catch?”

One of the guys snorts from the hallway. Heeseung’s lips twitch. “No catch.”

“Four guys, one girl, cheap rent, no second viewings. There’s always a catch.”

He steps closer. Not enough to trap you. Just enough to make you aware of proximity. “We don’t like flakes,” he says quietly. “We don’t like drama. We don’t like people who pretend they’re chill and then aren’t.”

“And if I’m not?”

“Then you won’t last.”

The words aren’t cruel. They’re factual. You swallow. “Is that a threat?”

His gaze drops briefly to your mouth. Then back up. “It’s information.”

The other three laugh softly behind him. “You scared?” someone calls.

You step closer instead of back. “No.” And that’s the truth. You’re not scared. You’re wired. There’s a difference. He studies you for a long second. Then nods once.

“Good.” He steps back, creating space again. “You can move in tonight if you want.” Your heartbeat stutters.

“That was the deal.” One of them pushes off the doorframe. “Guess we’ve got a new roommate.” The broad-shouldered one grins. “Welcome to the madhouse.”

They disperse slightly after that. Not fully. But enough to let you breathe. You kneel on the bed to unzip your duffel, aware of eyes tracking the movement. A shirt comes out. Toiletry bag. A pair of heels you probably won’t need but packed anyway.

From the hallway, a voice says quietly, “She’s staying.”

“Obviously,” another replies.

You pretend not to hear. But your skin hums. Because beneath the jokes. Beneath the cocky questions. There’s something else. A tension that hasn’t snapped yet. An understanding that this isn’t just about splitting rent. You don’t know the rules. You don’t know the lines. But you feel them. Drawn. Invisible. Waiting. You stand and smooth your hands down your sides.

“I’ll bring the rest tomorrow.” Heeseung leans against the wall now, arms crossed. “Take your time.”

Your gaze locks again. The eye contact lingers too long to be accidental. Too steady to be polite. It’s not crude. It’s not rushed. It’s slow. Deliberate. Like he’s memorizing you.

And maybe, you’re memorizing him, too.

Friday night settles in outside the window, the sky deepening from gold to blue. You came here for cheap rent. For square footage. For practical reasons. But as the music in the living room turns louder and someone calls your name like you’ve always belonged here, you realize something quietly, dangerously simple. This wasn’t just a listing.

It was an invitation. And you accepted it. The kitchen island becomes your first battlefield.

Someone, Jay, you learn later, has already spread out a chaotic spread of takeout: greasy fried chicken in red-and-white buckets, japchae tangled in sesame oil, bulging containers of tteokbokki still steaming, a few lonely mandu that look like they've been fought over. Plastic forks and chopsticks clatter. No plates. No pretense of civility.

You slide onto one of the high stools, thighs sticking slightly to the leather from the heat still clinging to your skin after the move. Your thin white tank clings in all the wrong-right places, damp from nerves and the apartment's lazy, cold thermostat. No bra underneath because you'd changed into "comfy" clothes after unpacking the bare minimum. Big mistake.

Or the best one you've made all week. They circle like sharks who've already scented blood. Heeseung claims the stool right beside you without asking. His bare knee knocks yours under the island the second you settle. He doesn't move it. Neither do you. Jay drops onto the one across from you, broad shoulders taking up too much real estate. He leans forward on his elbows, forearms corded, watching you like you're the next thing on the menu.

Jake sprawls next to him, legs spread wide under the counter, one foot hooking casually around your ankle like it's always belonged there. He grins, pretty, boyish, filthy.

Sunghoon perches at the end like a king on his throne, long legs stretched out, one hand already tearing into a chicken wing. He licks sauce off his thumb slowly, eyes never leaving the front of your tank.

"Alright," Heeseung says, voice low and amused as he pops open a beer and slides one toward you without asking if you drink. "Introductions, since you're staying."

He drags a knuckle down your bare arm, slow, deliberate, like he's testing how soft you are. Goosebumps erupt instantly. "I'm Heeseung." His fingers linger at your wrist, thumb pressing your pulse point. "You already knew that." You nod, throat dry. Take a sip of the beer. It's cold. Sharp. Does nothing to cool the heat pooling between your legs.

Jay jerks his chin up. "Park Jongseong. Jay." He reaches across the island, grabs a piece of tteokbokki with his fingers, holds it out to you. "Open." You hesitate half a second. He raises one brow. "Don't make me feed you like a baby, sweetheart."

Your lips part. He pushes the sticky rice cake inside, thumb brushing your bottom lip as he pulls back. Sauce smears. He doesn't wipe it off. Just watches it glisten there.

"Jake Sim," the one with the foot around your ankle says. He leans in, elbow on the counter, chin in hand. His gaze drops blatantly to your chest. Your nipples have pebbled hard against the thin cotton, traitorous little peaks begging for attention. He bites his lip, lets out a soft, appreciative hum. "Fuck, you're not wearing a bra. Bold move, roomie."

Heat floods your face. Also lower. Sunghoon doesn't bother with words at first. He just stares, cold, assessing, predatory. Then he speaks, voice velvet and mean.

"Park Sunghoon." He drags a fry through sauce, offers it to you the same way Jay did. When you lean forward to take it, he pulls it back at the last second, makes you chase. You feel ridiculous. Wet. "Good girl." The praise lands like a slap. Your thighs clench.

Heeseung chuckles low beside you. His hand finds your knee under the island, big, warm, possessive. Slides up your inner thigh slow enough that you could stop him. You don't. His fingers stop just shy of where your shorts end, thumb stroking the crease where thigh meets hip. Back and forth. Lazy. Teasing the edge of your underwear.

"So," Jay says around a mouthful of chicken, eyes locked on the outline of your nipples like they're speaking to him personally. "What's your deal, Y/N? You always this easy to read?"

Jake snorts. Leans closer. "Bet she's already soaked just from us looking."

"Shut up," you mutter, but it comes out breathy. Weak.

Heeseung's thumb presses harder. "She is," he says quietly, like it's a fact he's confirming for the group. His other hand reaches up, casual, like he's reaching for more food, and brushes the side of your breast through the tank. The pad of his thumb grazes your nipple. Circles once. 

You gasp. Small. Involuntary. Sunghoon smirks. "Told you. Instant slut for attention." Jay exchanges a look with Jake, dirty, conspiratorial. They both laugh under their breath.

"Pass her the spicy one," Jake says. "See if she cries."

Heeseung finally pulls his hand from between your legs, only to slide it around your waist instead. Tugs you closer until your side is flush against his bare chest. Skin on skin. Heat on heat. "Eat," he murmurs against your ear. Breath hot. "You're gonna need the energy."

You pick up a piece of chicken with shaking fingers. They watch every bite like it's porn. Sunghoon leans forward. "Question." You meet his eyes. Dark. Unblinking.

"You gonna pretend you're not dripping for us all night, or can we skip the bullshit and get to the part where you spread on the counter?"

Your chopsticks freeze halfway to your mouth. Jake groans softly. "Hyung—"

"What?" Sunghoon shrugs. "We're all thinking it. She's sitting here with her tits out, clit probably throbbing, acting like she didn't come here to get fucked stupid by four guys who don't even know her last name."

Heeseung's hand slides higher again, this time under your tank. Palm flat against your bare stomach. Fingers splay wide. Claiming territory. Jay licks sauce off his lips. Slow. "Rent-free, remember? That pussy's been ours since you texted back."

Jake's foot slides higher up your calf. "Bet she clenches just hearing that." You do. They know. Heeseung's thumb finds your nipple again, pinches lightly through the fabric. Rolls it.

"Finish eating," he says, voice deceptively gentle. "Then we're gonna show you how we collect rent around here."

The words are disgusting. The way your body responds is worse. You swallow hard. Sauce still sticky on your lip. They wait. Patient. Filthy. Certain. Because they already know, you're not leaving this island until every inch of you is marked.

And the food? It's barely started getting cold. The takeout disappears faster than it should, mostly because your mouth is never empty for long.

Jay keeps tearing off pieces of chicken, dipping them in sauce, holding them to your lips like it's his personal mission to keep you full. His fingers linger every time, brushing your tongue, smearing gloss and grease across your chin until you're sticky and flushed. "Good girl," he murmurs once, low enough that only you hear it, but loud enough that the others smirk.

Heeseung never stops touching. His hand starts at your knee again, then climbs, slow, shameless, until it's high on your inner thigh, thumb tracing lazy circles over the damp cotton of your shorts. When you shift, trying to close your legs, he just spreads them wider with his knee. Casual. Like adjusting furniture. His other hand stays under your tank, palm flat against your stomach, fingers occasionally drifting up to pluck at your nipples like he's testing how hard they can get before you whimper.

They do get hard. Painfully so. The thin fabric does nothing to hide it.

Sunghoon leans back, legs spread, one hand lazily palming himself through his sweats while he watches. "Bet she's clenching every time Jay feeds her," he says, voice dripping. "Like a little hungry bird. Open wide, princess, here comes the next load."

Jake laughs, soft and filthy, leaning so close his breath fans your ear. "You're so fucking cute when you're pretending not to like it, baby. Look at you, your body is begging, thighs shaking. You gonna come just from us looking at you like the slut you are?" He drags his tongue along the shell of your ear. "Say 'please' and maybe we'll let you grind on the stool till you soak it."

You don't say please.

You just swallow another bite Jay pushes past your lips, choke a little when Heeseung's fingers slip under the leg of your shorts and graze the edge of your folds, wet, swollen, traitorous. They all hear the tiny, broken sound you make.

Sunghoon groans. "Fuck. That's the sound I wanna hear when she's choking on my dick later."

Dinner ends like that, messy, humiliating, electric.

When the last container is shoved aside, you mumble something about needing to unpack. Your voice is wrecked. Legs unsteady as you slide off the stool.

Heeseung's hand finally leaves your body, but not before he gives your ass a firm, possessive squeeze. "Go on, sweetheart. Get settled."

Their laughter follows you down the hallway, low, overlapping, knowing. "She's dripping down her thighs, I can smell it from here."

"Bet she locks the door and fingers herself thinking about us."

"Door stays unlocked from now on. House rule."

You shut yourself in the bedroom anyway. Heart hammering. Cheeks burning. Cunt throbbing so hard it hurts. You tell yourself you're just going to unpack. You don't.

The apartment feels smaller now, the air thicker, like the walls themselves are breathing. You’re still sprawled on the edge of the mattress, knees wide, thin cotton shorts shoved down just far enough that the waistband bites into the tops of your thighs. Your tank top has ridden up under your breasts, nipples stiff and visible through the damp fabric. Two fingers are buried inside you, knuckle-deep, curling, pumping, while your thumb mashes frantic, messy circles over your swollen clit. Every stroke pulls a slick, obscene sound from between your legs. You can’t stop. You don’t want to stop.

The apartment is quiet for maybe ten minutes. Then you hear it. From the living room, muffled at first, then unmistakable. Low grunts. Wet, rhythmic sounds. Skin on skin. "New roommate's pussy looked so fucking tight," Jake's voice, breathy. "Bet she'd cry if I went in raw."

Jay, rougher: "I'd make her ride me reverse so I could watch that ass bounce while Heeseung fucks her throat."

Sunghoon, colder, meaner: "I'm breaking that little cunt open first. Gonna make her squirt all over the couch before the night's over."

Heeseung's voice cuts through, low, controlled, dangerous. "We're breaking her in slow. Let her think she has control for a day or two. Then we take turns stretching her till she forgets her own name."

More groans. Faster strokes. Someone swears. Someone moans your name, your actual fucking name, like it's already theirs. Your cunt clenches hard around your fingers at the memory. A fresh gush of wetness coats your palm. You’re dripping onto the sheet now, dark spot spreading beneath your ass. You try to muffle the next whimper by biting the inside of your cheek, but it still leaks out, high and broken.

You come hard. Silent at first, then a choked whimper slips out when your fingers push inside, chasing the aftershocks. Your thighs shake. The bed creaks. The apartment has been dead silent for thirty seconds.

Then, floorboards creak. Not fast. Not rushed. Slow. Measured. One deliberate step after another. Your heart slams against your ribs so violently you’re sure they can hear it through the thin walls. You freeze, fingers still stuffed inside you, walls fluttering helplessly around them. You don’t dare pull them out. Don’t dare move. Every nerve feels peeled open, raw, screaming.

The footsteps stop right outside your door. You hold your breath. The knob turns. No knock. No warning. The door swings inward on silent hinges. Heeseung fills the frame.

No shirt. Sweatpants slung obscenely low, the thick ridge of his cock still half-hard and outlined against the gray cotton like it’s trying to tear through. A faint sheen of sweat glistens along his collarbones, down the cut of his abs. His hair is wrecked, fingers-raked, damp at the temples. His eyes are black, pupils blown, and the corner of his mouth curls in something that isn’t quite a smile. It’s possession wearing amusement like a mask.

He doesn’t step inside. Not yet. He just leans one bare shoulder against the doorframe, arms loosely crossed, and lets his gaze drag over you, slow, deliberate, filthy. From the way your thighs tremble, to the hand still buried in your shorts, to the wet spot darkening the sheet, to your bitten-raw lip and glassy eyes.

“Caught you,” he murmurs. Voice so low it vibrates in your chest. Your fingers twitch involuntarily inside yourself. A tiny, helpless pump. You can’t help it. His voice alone is enough to make your cunt spasm. He notices. Of course he notices. His head tilts. “You didn’t even lock the door, baby.”

The endearment lands like a slap and a caress at once. Your mouth opens, maybe to deny, maybe to beg, maybe just to breathe, but nothing comes out except a shaky exhale.

He takes one step forward. The floor creaks under his weight. Another step. Your pulse is in your throat, your clit, your fingertips. You’re so wet it’s obscene, every tiny shift of your hips makes a slick sound you’re sure he can hear.

He stops at the foot of the bed. Close enough that you can smell him, clean sweat, faint cologne, the dark musk of arousal still clinging to his skin from whatever they were doing out there.

“Look at you,” he says softly. Almost tender. “Legs spread like you were waiting for an audience. Fingers stuffed in that greedy little hole while you listened to us talk about ruining you.” His eyes flick to where your hand disappears into your shorts. “Did you come thinking about Sunghoon splitting you open? Or Jay making you bounce on his cock while I fucked your throat raw?”

You make a sound, half sob, half moan. Your hips jerk up without permission, chasing your own fingers. Heeseung’s gaze darkens. “Don’t stop.”

Your breath hitches. “Keep fucking yourself,” he orders, voice dropping into something darker, quieter, more dangerous. “Let me watch how desperate you got listening to us plan all the ways we’re gonna break you.”

Your fingers move before your brain catches up, slow at first, then faster, wetter, louder. The heel of your palm grinds against your clit with every thrust. Your other hand claws at the sheet. Your thighs shake so hard the bed frame rattles. Heeseung doesn’t touch you. He just watches.

Eyes heavy-lidded. Breathing slow and controlled while yours comes in ragged little pants. The outline of his cock has thickened again, straining harder against the sweats. A dark spot blooms at the tip. "You were moaning our names," he says, tilting his head. "Heard you clear as day."

You open your mouth. Nothing comes out. He walks closer. Stops at the edge of the bed. Looks down at you, spread, flushed, fingers still glistening.

"First rule of the house," he says, voice velvet and final. He reaches down, grips your chin, tilts your face up so you have to meet his eyes. "If we hear you moaning our names, if you touch that pretty pussy thinking about us, you don't get to come alone anymore."

His thumb drags across your bottom lip, collecting the spit and gloss there. "You finish with one of us inside you. Or on you. Or watching. Your choice."

He leans in until his mouth is a breath from yours. "But tonight?" He smirks, slow, filthy, victorious. "Tonight you go to sleep wet and aching. No more touching. That's rule two."

He straightens. Steps back. "Get some rest, sweetheart."

He turns for the door. Pauses. Looks over his shoulder. "And tomorrow?" His smile is all teeth. "Rent's due."

The door clicks shut behind him. You lie back on the bed, heart slamming, thighs slick, body screaming. You don't touch yourself again. Not because you don't want to. But because you know, he's right outside. And they're all waiting for the next time you break.

Your gasp rips through the dim bedroom like a blade, but it’s not fear that claws up your throat, it’s the raw, electric shock of Jake’s iron grip clamping around your upper arm, yanking you upright so violently the mattress squeaks in protest. Your eyes fly open to the sight of his wicked grin, teeth flashing white in the pale morning light filtering through half-drawn blinds. The sheets are torn away in one savage sweep, cool air slamming against your overheated skin like a slap. Your thin tank top is already bunched uselessly under your tits, the fabric twisted tight around your ribs, while your tiny sleep shorts have ridden so high they barely cover the swell of your ass cheeks, the crotch seam digging intently into your folds.

“Morning, roomie,” Jake purrs, voice dripping with mock sweetness and pure venom. He drags you out of bed like a ragdoll, your bare feet scrambling for purchase on the icy concrete floor, toes curling against the chill. His free hand instantly mauls your left tit, thick fingers sinking deep into the soft, heavy flesh, squeezing so hard your nipple hardens between his knuckles like a ripe berry. His thumb flicks it once, twice, three times, fast and brutal, like he’s punishing a disobedient little button. Pain blooms hot and sharp, shooting straight to your clit, and you hiss through clenched teeth, back arching involuntarily, pushing your chest further into his greedy palm.

He laughs, low, filthy, delighted, and crashes his mouth against your cheek in a wet, sloppy kiss that’s all tongue and teeth. The flat of his tongue drags slow and deliberate across your flushed skin, leaving a thick trail of spit that cools instantly. He pulls back with a loud smack, lips shiny, eyes glittering with mischief.

“Breakfast’s waiting, princess. And you’re the main fucking course.”

He hauls you down the hallway, your legs stumbling, tits bouncing freely under the ruined tank, shorts still tangled around one thigh. The living room hits you like a fever dream: thick with the scent of fresh-brewed coffee, printer ink, and the unmistakable musk of four horny men who’ve already been stroking themselves thinking about this exact moment. Jay’s lounging like a king on the massive sectional sofa, legs spread wide in nothing but gray sweats that do nothing to hide the monstrous bulge tenting the fabric, one arm slung lazily over the backrest, the other lazily palming his cock through the material. He doesn’t even stand. Just crooks two fingers at you, slow and commanding, a lazy smirk playing on his full lips.

Jake shoves you forward hard. You stumble straight into Jay’s waiting hands, rough, calloused palms gripping your hips like vices, and he yanks you down onto his lap in one fluid, possessive motion. Your bare ass cheeks land flush against the scorching heat of his massive morning wood, the thick ridge of it nestling perfectly between your cheeks through the thin sweats. He groans deep in his chest and rocks up once, grinding his fat cock against you so you feel every throbbing inch, every vein, the blunt head nudging right against your folds like a promise.

“Sit pretty for me, slut,” Jay growls hot against the shell of your ear, breath smelling like mint and sin. One thick arm snakes around your waist, locking you down like a seatbelt made of steel. His other hand shoves up under your tank top, claiming your right tit fully, squeezing, kneading, rolling the nipple between rough fingers until it’s swollen and aching. You squirm helplessly, already leaking slick down your thighs, but he just chuckles darkly and pinches harder. “That’s it. Feel how hard you make me first thing in the goddamn morning?”

Heeseung leans against the kitchen island like a statue carved from ice and hunger, arms crossed over his broad chest, black tank stretched tight across his muscles, sweatpants slung low enough to show the deep V of his hips. His dark eyes drink you in with that calm, terrifying amusement, lips curled in the barest smirk. Sunghoon’s perched on the arm of the couch like a predator in repose, long legs dangling, one hand already shoved inside his boxers, slowly fisting his long, pretty cock, tip flushed angry red, leaking precum in shiny beads that he smears down the shaft with lazy twists.

A single crisp sheet of paper is taped to the stainless-steel fridge, bold black Arial bullet points screaming authority.

Roommate Rules.

Jake claps once, sharp and theatrical, the sound cracking through the room like a whip. “New roommate orientation, baby! Time to learn the house rules. Stand up, oh wait.” He grins viciously as Jay’s arm tightens, keeping you impaled on his lap, grinding slow circles so the ridge of his cock drags deliciously against your dripping cunt. “Never mind. Stay right there.”

Jay doesn’t let you move an inch. Jake rips the paper free and slaps it into your trembling hands. “Read it. Out. Loud. Every word.”

Heeseung’s voice cuts through like velvet over steel. “And don’t you dare stop.”

Your fingers shake so badly the paper rattles. Jay’s free hand dives straight down, past the waistband of your shorts, two thick fingers spearing into your soaked cunt without mercy, no teasing, no warmup. They curl viciously against your G-spot instantly, pumping in and out with wet, filthy squelching sounds that echo obscenely. Your walls clamp down greedily, sucking him deeper, and you choke on the first syllable.

“R-Rule… one…” Your voice cracks into a broken moan as Jay adds a third finger on the next thrust, stretching you wide, scissoring brutally. “N-No panties… in the apartment… after 8 p.m. Fuck—ahh!”

Sunghoon hums low, shoving his boxers down to his thighs, his long cock springing free, veiny, curved slightly, glistening as he strokes faster, thumb swiping over the leaking slit. “Louder, whore. Let us hear how wet that rule makes you.”

Jake drops to his knees between your spread thighs like he’s worshipping at an altar. He rips your shorts down your legs in one violent yank, tossing them across the room, leaving you completely bare from the waist down on Jay’s lap, pussy lips puffy and shining, clit throbbing visibly. He spreads your thighs wider with both hands, thumbs digging into soft flesh, and leans in. His tongue, hot, flat, and obscene, drags from your dripping hole all the way up to your swollen clit in one long, sloppy stripe. He sucks your clit into his mouth like it’s candy, tongue flicking rapid-fire while Jay’s fingers keep moving.

“Rule two,” you sob, hips jerking wildly, trying to ride both sensations at once. “You… sit on someone’s lap… during movie nights, oh god, Jake, please—ahh!”

Jake pulls back just enough to spit a thick glob of saliva right onto your clit, watching it drip down to mix with your juices coating Jay’s knuckles. “Good fucking girl. Keep reading while I eat this sloppy cunt like breakfast.”

Your voice is pure wreckage now, high, breathy, broken. “Rule three… Whoever cooks… the others get to fuck you… on the counter… while dinner’s in the oven, fuck, I’m gonna—”

Jay slams his fingers deeper, adding a fourth, stretching you to the burning limit. Your pussy gushes around him, slick squirting out in messy pulses that soak his sweats and the couch beneath you. The wet sounds are pornographic, schlick-schlick-schlick, loud enough to drown out your whimpers.

Heeseung is stroking himself now, thick, heavy, perfectly shaped, veins pulsing as he strokes slow and controlled, eyes locked on your face like he’s memorizing every twitch of humiliation and pleasure. “Almost there, sweetheart. Finish it. Then we give you the welcome gift you’ve been dripping for since you moved in.”

Jake stands, shoving his shorts down. His cock slaps heavy against his abs, thick, girthy, the head red and angry, already drooling precum in long strings. He strokes himself right in front of your face, the wet sound of his fist mixing with Jay’s fingers destroying your cunt. The tip keeps brushing your cheek, smearing precum across your skin like war paint.

You force the last words out between guttural moans, tears of overwhelming pleasure streaking your face. “First… official use… read the rules out loud… while being used—nnngh! And… and it ends with all four… cumming on your face… and tits… as welcome gift, please, I can’t—!”

Silence crashes down for half a second, only the obscene sounds of fingers plunging into soaked pussy and four men stroking their cocks. Then Jay rips his fingers out with a wet pop. You whine pathetically at the sudden emptiness, pussy clenching around nothing, a gush of your own slick dripping down your thighs onto the carpet.

Heeseung steps forward first, voice calm as death. “On your knees, cumdump.” Jay lifts you like you weigh nothing, strong arms tossing you onto the floor between them. The rough carpet bites into your knees as you kneel, back straight, tits heaving, cunt visibly throbbing and empty. They circle you like wolves, four towering, muscular bodies, cocks hard and leaking, surrounding you in a filthy halo of dominance.

Heeseung speaks, low and final. “Welcome to the house, sweetheart. Open that pretty mouth and take what you earned.” They don’t ask permission. They just ruin you.

Jake goes first, groaning loud and theatrical, fist flying as thick, ropey jets of cum erupt across your face. One stripe lands right across your open mouth, coating your tongue in salty heat. Another paints your left cheek, dripping down to your jaw. A third splatters across your forehead, sliding into your hair. He milks every drop, slapping his spent cock against your lips. “Swallow what you can, baby. The rest stays.”

Sunghoon’s next, quiet, intense, eyes dark as midnight. He aims low, long powerful spurts painting your tits in pearly white. Thick globs land on your left nipple, sliding down the curve of your breast like icing. Another heavy rope coats the valley between them, dripping down your stomach. He keeps stroking through it, smearing the head of his cock through the mess on your skin, marking you deeper.

Jay growls your name like a curse, “Fuck, look at you”—and unloads across the right side of your face. Hot cum hits your cheekbone, your eyelid, your lips, mixing with Jake’s in sticky rivers that drip off your chin onto your cum-glazed tits. One stray shot lands directly on your tongue and you moan, swallowing reflexively.

Heeseung saves the best for last. He steps closest, tipping your chin up with two fingers so your teary eyes lock onto his. “Eyes on me while I paint my new toy.” His strokes stay slow, deliberate, until the first powerful pulse shoots straight across your lips, forcing you to taste him, thick, bitter-sweet, coating your tongue. The next stripes your chest, adding fresh layers over Sunghoon’s mess, dripping off your nipples in heavy rivulets. He keeps coming, pulse after pulse, until your entire face and tits are a glistening, ruined masterpiece of four loads, cum sliding down your body in obscene trails, pooling in the hollow of your throat and between your thighs.

When they finally step back, you’re a trembling, kneeling wreck, face and chest absolutely drenched, lips parted, tongue still out like a good little cumslut, thighs shaking, pussy clenching and dripping onto the carpet in desperate need.

Heeseung crouches, thumb scooping a thick glob of mixed cum from your bottom lip. He pushes it deep into your mouth. “Suck. Clean every drop like the rules say.” You do, hollowing your cheeks, sucking his thumb clean with a wet pop, eyes fluttering as the salty, musky taste of all four of them floods your senses. He smiles, slow, dark, satisfied. “Rules are rules, baby.”

Jake laughs, tucking his cock away with a satisfied sigh. “Shower’s down the hall, princess. But we won’t mind if you don’t shower today. Or ever again.”

Jay leans down, pressing an almost tender kiss to the top of your cum-matted hair. “Welcome home, roomie.”

Sunghoon just stares, licking his lips as you instinctively drag your tongue across them, chasing every stray drop. “Rent’s cheap as fuck now, huh? But you are gonna pay every single day.”

You can’t speak, voice wrecked, body owned. But your cunt is already fluttering, aching, dripping for the next rule they’ll break you with. And they know it. They always will.

The rest of the day unravels like a slow, deliberate fever dream, every ordinary second laced with the kind of casual, relentless violation that makes your pulse thunder and your cunt throb like a second heartbeat. You try so fucking hard to pretend it’s just another lazy Saturday. That the thick, salty ghosts of their cum aren’t still drying in flaky trails across your tits and cheeks no matter how hard you scrubbed in the shower. That the taste of all four of them, bitter, musky, addictively filthy, doesn’t coat the back of your throat every single time you swallow.  

The shower is a war zone. Scalding water pounds against skin still blooming with faint red handprints and fingertip bruises, steam thick enough to choke on. You soap yourself raw, trying to erase the evidence, but every glide of your own hands over your sore nipples, your swollen clit, your tender skin just reminds you how easily they marked you. When you finally step out, the oversized black tee you pull on clings to your still-damp skin like a surrender flag, hem barely skimming the bottom curve of your ass, nipples already stiff and obvious against the thin cotton, pussy lips puffy and exposed every time you move. No bra. No panties. It’s not even close to 8 p.m., but the rule is already branded into your brain like a collar. You tell yourself it’s just comfort. Practicality. Not the first step in learning to live with your holes on permanent display.

They let you cling to that lie for exactly twenty-three minutes.

You’re in the kitchen, stretching up on tiptoes to grab a glass from the top shelf, the tee riding all the way up to expose the full, bare globes of your ass and the slick shine already coating your inner thighs, when the first crack lands.

Jake’s palm connects with your right cheek like a gunshot, sharp, loud, viciously playful. The sound ricochets off the marble counters. Your whole body jolts forward, glass clattering against the shelf, and a hot bloom of pain explodes across your skin. Before you can even gasp, he’s right there, chest pressed to your back, hips grinding his half-hard cock against the cleft of your ass through his sweats.

“Careful, princess,” he drawls, voice syrupy and mean. Both hands shove up under the tee from behind, claiming your tits like they were built for his palms, squeezing the soft, heavy flesh until it bulges between his fingers, thumbs and forefingers rolling your nipples in tight, cruel pinches that send lightning straight to your clit. “Wouldn’t want you breaking shit on your first full day. Or maybe we should make you clean it up on your knees.”

You white-knuckle the counter, breath sawing out of you, thighs pressing together uselessly as fresh slick drips down your legs.

Heeseung strolls past like he’s fetching orange juice, not even sparing you a glance, until his arm snaps out mid-stride and his open palm cracks across your left cheek so hard the sting blooms white-hot and immediate. Your knees buckle. He keeps walking, cool as ever, but you catch the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Jay’s waiting when you bend over to grab a yogurt from the bottom drawer of the fridge. The oversized tee flips up completely, baring your dripping cunt and the pink handprints already decorating your ass. His bare foot hooks your ankle, yanking your legs apart with zero warning. Then his hand comes down, once, twice, three brutal, stinging slaps in rapid succession, each one harder than the last, the wet smack of skin on wet skin echoing obscenely. Your pussy clenches visibly with every impact, a humiliating string of slick stretching from your hole to the floor.

“Good reach, roomie,” he mutters, already back to scrolling his phone like he didn’t just turn your ass into a throbbing, cherry-red masterpiece. “Keep bending over like that and I might have to test how deep that pretty throat is before dinner.”

Sunghoon doesn’t bother with words. He simply appears behind you while you’re loading the dishwasher, hips slamming forward to pin you bent over the open rack, his massive erection grinding slow and filthy between your spread cheeks. One arm bands around your waist, the other shoves under the tee to grope your tits with lazy, proprietary thoroughness, palms rolling the soft mounds like ripe fruit, fingers tugging and twisting your nipples until they’re swollen, aching peaks. He pinches so hard you cry out, then releases you with a low whistle, walking away like he just checked the mail.

It never stops.

Every single movement is an invitation they cash immediately. Reaching for the remote? Jake’s fingers plunge between your thighs from behind, two thick digits sliding through your soaked folds just long enough to coat themselves before he pulls away, sucking them clean with a wink. Bending to pick up a dropped spoon? Jay’s palm cracks down again, then stays, middle finger dipping into your cunt, pumping once, twice, curling against your G-spot until your knees shake, then withdrawing with a wet pop and a casual “oops.” Stretching up to dust the top shelf? Heeseung’s mouth finds the back of your neck, teeth grazing, one hand sliding between your legs to flick your clit in rapid, teasing circles until you’re whimpering, then he’s gone, leaving you edged and gasping.

By late afternoon you’re a walking wreck, skin flushed scarlet, ass a lattice of overlapping handprints burning with every step, nipples raw and hypersensitive against the cotton, cunt so swollen and empty it aches like a bruise. Your thighs are shiny with constant slick. Your brain is fogged with need. You’re trying, failing, to fold laundry on the living room couch when Jake decides he’s done playing.

He doesn’t ask. Doesn’t warn. He simply drops to his knees in front of you like a man starved for weeks, hooks your trembling legs over his broad shoulders, and buries his face in your dripping pussy with a guttural groan that vibrates straight through your clit.

No warmup. No mercy.

His tongue is everywhere at once, broad, flat, filthy laps from your clenching hole all the way up to your throbbing clit, then sucking the swollen bud between his lips like he’s trying to pull your soul out through it. He alternates, hard, punishing suction that makes your back bow off the cushions, then soft, fluttering licks that leave you sobbing. Two thick fingers spear into you without resistance, curling viciously against that spongy spot inside while his tongue flicks your clit in rapid, relentless strokes. The wet sounds are deafening, your slick gushing around his knuckles, dripping down his chin, soaking the couch beneath you.

You grab fistfuls of his hair, half trying to rip him off, half grinding your cunt against his face desperate for release. “J-Jake, fuck—too much—ahh!”

He growls into your pussy, the vibration making your vision spark white. Three fingers now, stretching you wide, pumping brutally, thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit while his tongue spears inside you, fucking you in shallow, messy thrusts. Your thighs clamp around his head like a vice. Your back arches so hard you nearly levitate. The orgasm rips through you like lightning, violent, shattering, squirting messily all over his face as you scream, walls convulsing, vision whiting out completely.

He doesn’t stop. He rides you through it, through the aftershocks, through the oversensitive whimpers and the frantic pushing at his head, tongue and fingers relentless until you’re a sobbing, twitching wreck, another smaller orgasm crashing over you before the first even fades.

Only then does he pull back, face glistening, lips swollen, chin dripping with your cum like he just won a war. He climbs up your body slow, caging you against the cushions with his powerful frame, cock heavy and leaking against your thigh through his sweats. Then he kisses you. Not the brutal, claiming way you expect after he just devoured your cunt like a starving animal.

Sweet. Devastatingly soft. His mouth moves against yours like a promise, gentle, coaxing, tongue sliding in lazy, velvet strokes that taste like your own slick and his spit. One hand cups your cheek with shocking tenderness, thumb stroking your jawbone like you’re fragile, precious. The other rests low on your belly, warm, possessive, fingers splayed like he’s claiming the space where his cock will eventually live.

It breaks something in you. Filthy-sweet. Disorienting. Dangerous. When he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, breath mingling, eyes half-lidded and shining. “Good girl,” he whispers, so soft it feels like a secret. “Tasted so fucking sweet. Could eat this pussy for every meal.”

Then he’s gone, standing, wiping his shiny face with the back of his hand, flashing that boyish, wicked grin like he didn’t just ruin you twice in five minutes. You lie there panting, legs still hooked open and shaking, lips tingling, cunt still fluttering and leaking onto the ruined couch. The others don’t even pretend to look away anymore.

Heeseung glances over from the armchair, dark eyes gleaming, one brow raised in quiet approval. Jay keeps scrolling, but his free hand is palming the massive bulge in his sweats. Sunghoon licks his lips slowly, deliberately, like he’s already tasting his turn. You yank the tee down over your trembling thighs with shaking hands, trying to catch your breath, trying to remember how to be a person.

The clock on the wall glows 7:42 p.m. Eighteen minutes until the first rule locks in for the night. And every single one of them is watching the seconds tick down with hungry, patient eyes.

The day was “normal.”

But normal in this house means your body is their favorite toy, teased, slapped, groped, eaten, and edged until you’re dripping and desperate. The night hasn’t even started.

The apartment is shrouded in that heavy, post-midnight hush, only the low, constant hum of the AC and the faint, faraway pulse of city traffic bleeding through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The clock on the wall glows 12:34 a.m. Your panties have been gone for hours, the rule now a permanent, throbbing law between your legs. Every step you take reminds you: bare, slick, exposed, owned.

You’re trying to ghost down the hallway like a shadow, bare feet silent on the cool hardwood, oversized tee clutched in one fist to keep the hem from riding up, when Heeseung materializes out of nowhere. His long fingers wrap around your wrist like a steel cuff, firm but not cruel, and he yanks you sideways without a single word. The door to his room swings open, swallows you both, and clicks shut with the finality of a prison gate. The lock engages with a soft, damning thunk.

The second the bolt slides home, the mask drops. Heeseung spins you around and slams you back against the door so hard the wood rattles in its frame. His mouth crashes into yours, teeth clashing, tongues battling, no sweetness, just raw, starving hunger. One big hand fists your hair, yanking your head back so he can devour your throat, sucking bruises into the skin while the other shoves up under your tee and finds your already dripping cunt.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he growls against your pulse point, two thick fingers spearing straight into you without warning. “Been walking around all night with this greedy little hole empty? Bad girl.”

You moan brokenly, hips jerking into his hand. He adds a third finger instantly, stretching you wide, scissoring brutally while his thumb grinds hard circles on your swollen clit. Your knees buckle; he doesn’t let you fall. Just pins you to the door with his body and finger-fucks you so viciously the sound echoes louder than your gasps.

He rips the tee over your head in one motion, leaving you completely naked. Then he’s spinning you again, bending you over the edge of his massive bed, face pressed into the black silk sheets that smell like him, dark, expensive, masculine. He kicks your legs wider, slaps your ass once, twice, hard enough to make the flesh jiggle and bloom pink.

“Look at this pretty cunt clenching for me,” he snarls, lining up the fat, leaking head of his cock and slamming in to the hilt in one brutal thrust. The stretch burns so good you scream into the mattress. He doesn’t give you time to adjust, just grips your hips hard enough to bruise and starts pounding.

Skin slaps skin like thunder. His heavy balls smack your clit with every savage thrust. The bed creaks violently under the assault. He fucks you like he’s trying to split you in half—deep, punishing strokes that drag against every sensitive ridge inside you, the thick head battering your cervix on every inward slam.

“Take it,” he grunts, one hand fisting your hair to arch your back, the other reaching around to slap your clit in time with his thrusts. “This is what you signed up for, roomie. This cunt belongs to the house now, belongs to me tonight.”

You’re sobbing, drooling onto the sheets, pussy gushing around his cock so loudly it’s embarrassing. He reaches down and spreads your ass cheeks wider, watching his thick shaft disappear into your stretched hole, the creamy ring of your arousal coating every inch.

“Fuck, look at that. Greedy little slut sucking me in.”

He pulls out suddenly, flips you onto your back, and hooks your legs over his shoulders. The new angle lets him drive even deeper. His hips snap forward like a machine, relentless, punishing, perfect. Your tits bounce wildly with every thrust. He leans down and sucks one swollen nipple into his mouth, biting hard enough to make you wail, then soothes it with his tongue before moving to the other.

You come first, hard, screaming, walls clamping down on him like a vice, squirting messily around his cock as your whole body seizes. He doesn’t slow. Just fucks you straight through it, growling praises and filth into your ear.

“That’s it, milk my cock, baby. Give me another. Come on this dick again like the house whore you are.”

You do, second orgasm ripping through you even harder, vision whiting out, nails raking bloody lines down his back. Heeseung follows with a guttural groan, burying himself to the hilt and flooding you with thick, hot ropes of cum, pulse after pulse until it’s leaking out around his cock, dripping down your ass and soaking the sheets.

He stays buried inside you for a long moment, both of you heaving, sweat-slick bodies glued together. Then he pulls out slowly, watching with dark satisfaction as his cum pours from your ruined hole in a creamy waterfall.

But the brutality ends there.

Heeseung rolls off you with surprising grace, chest still rising and falling hard. He sits up, runs a hand through his wrecked hair, then stands, completely naked, still half-hard and shining with your combined mess. You lie there boneless, thighs trembling, cum leaking steadily onto the bed, mind completely blank.

He disappears into the attached bathroom. You hear the faucet run, the soft clink of glass. When he returns, he’s carrying a warm, damp cloth and a small bottle of something. You flinch when he kneels between your spread thighs again, instinct, not fear, but he just shushes you softly.

“Easy, baby.”

The cloth is blissfully warm. He starts at your inner thighs, wiping away the sticky trails of cum with slow, careful strokes. Then higher, between your folds, dabbing gently at your swollen, puffy entrance. You hiss when the fabric brushes your oversensitive clit; he pauses instantly, waiting until you relax before continuing. He cleans every inch of you with the patience of a man who’s done this before, thorough, reverent, almost worshipful. When he’s satisfied, he sets the cloth aside and pours a small amount of cool, soothing lotion onto his fingers, massaging it gently into the red handprints on your hips, your ass, the bite marks on your breasts.

You can only stare at him, wide-eyed, lips parted, heart hammering in a way that has nothing to do with the orgasms.

Heeseung meets your gaze, those dark eyes steady, unreadable for a heartbeat, then the corner of his mouth lifts in something softer than a smirk. “I may be an asshole, baby,” he says, voice low and gravel-rough from how loud he’d moaned your name, “but I know how to treat what’s mine right after I break it.”

He finishes with the lotion, then grabs a clean, fluffy towel from the dresser and drapes it gently over your hips like a blanket. Pulls the black silk sheet up to your waist, tucking it around you with careful hands. Finally, he leans down, brushes sweat-damp strands of hair off your forehead with his knuckles, light, almost sweet, and presses the softest kiss to your temple.

“Get some sleep,” he murmurs against your skin. “You’re gonna need every ounce of strength for what the rest of them have planned tomorrow.”

He doesn’t stay. Just stands, flicks off the bedside lamp with a soft click, and pads out of the room, leaving the door cracked just enough that a thin, golden line of hallway light spills across the floor like an invitation… or a warning.

You lie there in the dark, body aching in the most delicious, ruined way, pussy still fluttering with aftershocks, skin tingling from his gentle hands, mind spinning in dizzy circles.

Because he is an asshole. A cruel, rule-making, cum-painting, pussy-destroying asshole. But tonight, for the first time since you moved in, you’re terrifyingly certain that’s not all he is. And that single, dangerous crack in the armor?

It scares you more than every filthy rule they’ve written on that fridge. Because if Heeseung can fuck you like a toy and then care for you like something precious…

What the hell are the other three capable of? You get your answer somewhere around an hour after Heeseung leaves.

The apartment has gone quiet, city lights bleeding through the blinds in faint orange stripes, the distant hum of traffic like white noise. You’re half-asleep in your own bed again, body still humming from earlier, skin too sensitive, mind too full of everything that’s happened since you walked through the front door. The sheets feel cool against the faint bruises blooming on your hips.

You don’t hear the door open. Just feel the mattress dip behind you, slow, careful, like whoever it is doesn’t want to startle you awake. Then warmth. Jay’s chest presses to your back, not crowding, not possessive in the usual way. Just… there. Solid. His arm slides around your waist from behind, palm flattening low on your stomach. Fingers splay wide, covering as much skin as they can without gripping.

He doesn’t speak at first. Just breathes, slow, even, against the nape of your neck. His nose brushes the baby hairs there once, twice. Then his thumb starts moving.

Slow circles. Lazy, deliberate swirls over the soft skin just below your navel. The kind of touch that feels like he’s tracing something fragile. Like you’re made of blown glass, or spun sugar, or something that might crack if he presses too hard.

It’s nothing like the way they’ve touched you all day. No slaps. No gropes. No mocking whispers or filthy promises. Just this. Quiet. Steady. Almost reverent. You tense for half a second, waiting for the punchline, the shift into something meaner.

It doesn’t come. Instead, his lips find the curve where your shoulder meets your neck. Not a kiss. Just a resting place. Warm breath fanning over your skin in time with the slow rub of his thumb. “You okay?” he murmurs eventually. Voice low, rough from sleep and whatever else he’s been doing in the dark. Not demanding an answer. Just… checking.

You don’t know what to say. Your throat feels tight. You nod once, small, barely there. His hand keeps moving. Same rhythm. Same gentleness. Circles widening a little, then tightening again, like he’s memorizing the shape of you under his palm.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he says against your skin. “Any of it. Tonight. Tomorrow. Whenever.”

The words hang there, simple, quiet, sincere in a way that doesn’t match the asshole roommates who printed rules on the fridge and came on your face like it was a housewarming tradition. You swallow. “I’m… okay,” you whisper. It’s the truth, mostly. The rest is too tangled to name.

He hums once, soft, approving. His arm tightens just enough to pull you closer, back flush to his chest. No grind. No wandering hands. Just holding. The circles don’t stop. Slow. Soothing. Like he’s trying to rub the tension out of you molecule by molecule. You feel your breathing start to match his, deeper, slower. The ache between your legs dulls to a low throb instead of a sharp pulse. Your eyelids grow heavy again. Jay doesn’t move to leave.

Doesn’t push for more. Just stays. Palm warm on your waist. Thumb still drawing those endless, careful circles. Like you’re something worth being gentle with. Even here. Even now. You fall asleep to the rhythm of it, his heartbeat steady against your spine, his breath even against your neck, the soft scrape of calluses on your skin.

And for the first time since you moved in, the apartment doesn’t feel quite so dangerous.

Sunlight slices through the half-open blinds in thin, golden bars across your bare back. You wake slowly, first to the sensation of heat, then weight, then the unmistakable press of something thick and heavy sliding past your lips before your eyes are even open.

Heeseung. He’s already there, kneeling at the edge of the mattress, one hand braced on the headboard, the other cradling the back of your skull with surprising care. His cock is hard, morning wood, thick and flushed, veins prominent under the skin, and he’s feeding it to you slowly, not thrusting, just… settling. Like he’s been waiting for you to wake up around him.

Your lashes flutter. A soft, sleepy sound escapes your throat, half protest, half surrender, as your mouth stretches to accommodate him. He doesn’t push deeper than you can take. Just holds still once the head bumps the back of your tongue, letting you adjust.

“Shh,” he murmurs above you, thumb stroking the hinge of your jaw. “Morning, baby.”

His voice is gravel-rough from sleep, softer than it has any right to be. You blink up at him through damp lashes. He’s shirtless, hair a wreck, eyes dark but not cruel. There’s something almost apologetic in the way he looks down at you, like he knows exactly how many times he’s already used this mouth, this body, in the last forty-eight hours and still can’t stop.

You don’t pull away. Instead, you flatten your tongue along the underside, hollow your cheeks just enough to make him hiss quietly. His hips twitch once, small, involuntary, then still again.

“Good girl,” he breathes. Not mocking. Quiet. Almost reverent.

That’s when you feel the mattress dip on either side. Jake slides in behind you first, warm chest pressing to your back, knees nudging yours apart. His cock, already leaking, slides between your thighs, not inside yet, just rocking slow and lazy along your folds. He kisses the nape of your neck, open-mouthed and gentle, like he’s tasting sleep-warmed skin instead of claiming territory.

“Morning, princess,” he whispers against your ear. One hand slips under you, cupping your breast, not squeezing, just holding. Palm warm. Fingers splayed. Thumb brushing the nipple in slow, soothing circles.

Sunghoon appears on your other side, long limbs unfolding gracefully. He doesn’t speak at first. Just watches your face while Heeseung rocks shallowly into your mouth. Then he leans in, presses a soft, lingering kiss to your temple. The gesture is so unexpectedly tender your breath hitches around Heeseung’s length.

Sunghoon’s hand finds your hip. Strokes down the curve of your waist, then back up. Like he’s memorizing every dip and swell. Like he’s sorry for every bruise he’s left there. Jay’s the last to join.

He’s fully dressed, gray sweats, black tee, hair still damp from a shower, sitting in the armchair across from the bed with a steaming mug of black coffee in one hand and his phone in the other. Vertical hold. Red recording dot blinking steadily.

He doesn’t say anything filthy. Doesn’t bark orders. Just watches. Sips. The corner of his mouth lifts when your eyes meet his over Heeseung’s shoulder. Not a smirk. Something quieter. Almost fond. “Pretty,” he mouths. No sound. Just the shape of the word.

Heeseung starts moving then, slow, shallow rolls of his hips. Never deep enough to choke you. Just enough to fill your mouth, to let you taste the salt and musk of him. Your hands come up instinctively, fingers curling around the base he can’t fit, stroking what your lips can’t reach.

Jake shifts behind you. Lines himself up. Presses in, slow. So slow. The stretch is lazy, unhurried, like he has all morning to sink into you. When he bottoms out, he stays there. Doesn’t thrust. Just grinds in tiny, rolling circles, letting you feel every inch pressed against that spot inside that makes your toes curl.

Sunghoon’s hand slides between you and the mattress. Finds your clit. Circles it with the same gentle pressure Jake’s using on your nipple. No frantic rubbing. No pinching. Just soft, steady friction that builds slow and syrupy.

You moan around Heeseung, muffled, needy. The vibration makes him groan low in his throat.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “That’s it.”

They move like they’ve rehearsed it. Like they’ve agreed, silently, somewhere in the dark hours after Jay held you last night, that today they won’t break you. Not more than they already have.

Jake rocks into you in time with Heeseung’s shallow thrusts. Sunghoon’s fingers never falter, patient, coaxing. Your body starts to tremble, not from overstimulation, but from the slow, relentless climb they’re building together.

Jay’s phone stays steady. He tilts it slightly, capturing the way your back arches, the way Jake’s hand splays protectively over your stomach, the way Sunghoon’s lips brush your shoulder every few seconds like he can’t help himself.

Heeseung’s breathing grows ragged first. “Gonna come,” he warns, voice strained, almost pleading. “Where do you want it, baby?” You can’t answer with words. Just tighten your lips around him, suck harder, look up at him with wide, glassy eyes.

He swears under his breath. Pulls out at the last second, strokes himself twice, and spills across your tongue in thick, warm pulses. You swallow what you can; the rest drips from the corner of your mouth. Heeseung catches it with his thumb, pushes it back between your lips.

“Good girl,” he whispers again. This time his voice cracks. Jake’s rhythm falters behind you. His forehead drops to your shoulder. “Fuck—can I—inside?”

You nod frantically, around Heeseung’s softening cock still resting on your tongue.

He groans, long, low, broken, and buries himself deep. Comes with a shudder that rocks through both of you. Hot. Thick. Filling you until it leaks out around him, down your thighs. He doesn’t pull out right away. Just stays seated, grinding lazily through the aftershocks, letting you clench around him like he’s trying to keep every drop where it belongs.

Sunghoon’s fingers speed up just enough, still gentle, still careful, and you come like a wave breaking slow. No scream. No violent shaking. Just a long, trembling release that leaves you boneless, whimpering softly into Heeseung’s thigh.

They don’t rush to move.

Jake stays inside you, softening but not leaving. Sunghoon keeps petting your clit through the aftershocks, light, soothing touches now. Heeseung strokes your hair back from your face, tucking strands behind your ear.

Jay finally lowers the phone. Stops recording. Sets the mug on the side table. Walks over. He kneels on the edge of the bed, still fully clothed, and cups your cheek. Thumb swipes away the last trace of Heeseung from your lip.

“You okay?” he asks quietly. You nod. Eyes heavy. Body humming. He leans down. Kisses your forehead, soft. Lingering. Then he looks at the others. “Group chat,” he says simply. “She’s gonna want to see it later.”

Jake chuckles, soft, breathless, against your neck. “She’s gonna come again just watching.” Sunghoon finally pulls his hand away. Presses one last kiss to your shoulder blade. Heeseung helps ease you onto your side, careful, like you might shatter. Jake slips out slowly, both of you hissing at the loss. Cum leaks immediately, thick, white, obscene. Jay grabs a clean towel from the nightstand, wipes between your thighs with the same gentle care Heeseung used last night.

No one speaks for a minute. Just breathing. Skin cooling. Hearts slowing. Then Heeseung breaks the quiet. “We were… a lot,” he says. Voice rough. Eyes on yours. “Yesterday. The day before. If it’s too much—”

You shake your head before he can finish. Reach up. Curl your fingers around his wrist. “I’m here,” you whisper. “I’m staying.” Something flickers across his face, relief, maybe. Guilt, definitely.

Jay’s hand finds yours. Squeezes once. Jake presses his lips to the back of your neck, soft, apologetic. Sunghoon just watches you. Then leans in. Kisses the corner of your mouth. Slow. Sweet. “Breakfast,” Jay says eventually. “In bed. No rules for the next hour.”

You laugh, small, wrecked, real. They move like they’ve been given permission to be soft. And for the first time since you moved in, you let yourself believe they might actually mean it. The rest of the day unfolds like something borrowed from another life.

No one touches you. Not in the hungry, claiming way you’ve come to expect. No wandering hands under your shirt while you’re making toast. No casual spanks when you bend to pick up a stray sock. No one pins you against the counter or drags you onto a lap. The rules, those printed, obscene bullet points on the fridge, might as well be written in invisible ink for how irrelevant they feel in the soft, lazy hours that follow breakfast.

They just… stay.

All four of them orbit you without crowding. The living room becomes this strange, sunlit island: blankets dragged from bedrooms, pillows piled into a makeshift nest on the sectional, takeout containers from last night still scattered like evidence of a truce. Someone puts on music, low-fi beats, nothing aggressive, just enough rhythm to fill the quiet without demanding attention. Jake sprawls across the floor with his head in your lap, scrolling memes on his phone and reading the funniest ones out loud in increasingly ridiculous voices until you snort-laugh and accidentally knee him in the ribs.

“Ow, princess, you trying to murder me?” he whines, but he’s grinning, grabbing your hand to press a dramatic kiss to your knuckles before going right back to his phone.

Jay sits cross-legged at the other end of the couch, one of your feet in his lap. He massages your ankle absentmindedly while he argues with Heeseung about whether the new season of some crime drama is trash or genius. Every time you shift, he squeezes your calf once, gentle, grounding, like a silent check-in.

Heeseung’s on the armchair opposite, legs kicked up on the coffee table, nursing the same lukewarm coffee from this morning. He catches your eye every so often and just… holds it. No smirk. No heat. Just a small, almost shy tilt of his mouth, like he’s still surprised you’re still here.

Sunghoon is the quietest. He’s tucked into the corner of the sectional, long legs stretched out, one arm slung over the backrest behind you. He doesn’t say much, just watches. Watches you laugh at Jake’s dumb jokes. Watches the way your shoulders slowly unclench. Watches the way the afternoon light turns your skin gold.

You keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Every time someone shifts closer, every time a hand brushes your arm or knee, your body tenses on instinct, bracing for the grab, the grope, the inevitable slide into filth. But it never comes.

Instead: Jake starts a pillow fight that lasts exactly thirty five seconds before Jay declares himself referee and tackles Jake into the cushions. Heeseung orders fried chicken and insists on feeding you the first piece, holding it to your lips like Jay used to, but this time there’s no sauce-smeared thumb, no dirty promise in his eyes. Just a soft “Open up, baby,” and when you do, he smiles like you’ve given him something precious.

Sunghoon eventually migrates closer. Not crowding. Just enough that his thigh presses warm against yours. You glance at him, skeptical, guarded, still half-expecting the mask to slip. He notices. Of course he does. His hand lifts, slow, telegraphing every movement so you can pull away if you want. You don’t.

Fingers gentle, he reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch lingers there, knuckles grazing the shell lightly, before he lets his palm cup the side of your face for half a heartbeat. You freeze. He smiles. Not the cold, cutting one he usually wears. Something smaller. Softer. Almost sad.

“You are our friend, sweetheart,” he says quietly. His voice is low enough that the others have to strain to hear, but they do. The room quiets around the words like they’re something fragile. You blink. Throat tight. Sunghoon’s thumb brushes your cheekbone once, barely there.

“We fucked this up from the start,” he continues, softer still. “We saw you walk through that door looking like you were ready to bolt at the first wrong move… and we made sure every move was wrong. On purpose.” His gaze drops to where his hand still rests against your skin. “Thought it’d be easier if you hated us. If you left on your own. If we never had to admit we wanted you to stay for more than just—”

He stops. Swallows. “—for more than just the easy parts.” The confession hangs there, heavy and unpolished. Jake’s head is still in your lap; he’s gone unnaturally still, staring up at the ceiling like he’s afraid to interrupt. Jay’s thumb has paused on your ankle.

Heeseung sets his coffee down. Slowly. You look around at them, all four, and for the first time you see it: the guilt. Not performative. Not a tactic. Real. Raw. Sitting under their skin like a bruise they’ve been ignoring. Sunghoon’s hand finally drops from your face, but he doesn’t move away.

“We’re not asking for forgiveness,” he says. “We don’t deserve it. Not yet. But we’re not gonna keep treating you like—” He exhales through his nose. “—like you’re disposable. Not anymore.” Silence stretches. Then Jake, sweet, chaotic Jake, breaks it by pressing the softest kiss to the inside of your wrist.

“Friends can still cuddle, right?” he mumbles against your skin. “Because I’m not moving. My head’s too comfy.” A tiny, surprised laugh bubbles out of you. Jay squeezes your calf once. “We’ve got time,” he says simply. “No rush. No rules today.”

Heeseung leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Tell us what you want,” he says. “Right now. Anything. We’ll listen.” You look at them, really look. The assholes who printed rules on the fridge. The ones who marked you, used you, laughed while they did it. The ones who just spent an entire day proving they know how to be gentle when they choose to be. You swallow.

“I want…” Your voice is small at first. Then steadier. “I want to believe you.” Sunghoon’s eyes soften. “Then we’ll keep showing you,” he says. “Until you do.”

Jake nuzzles closer into your lap like a cat claiming territory. Jay resumes the slow massage on your ankle. Heeseung picks up the remote, queues up some mindless comedy you’ve all seen a hundred times.

And Sunghoon, quiet, beautiful, regretful Sunghoon, leans in just enough to rest his forehead against your temple. “Friends,” he whispers again. Like a promise.

Like a beginning. The afternoon bleeds into evening. No one fucks you. No one even tries. They just stay. Laughing. Joking. Touching you like you matter. And for the first time since you moved in, you let yourself lean into it.

Just a little. Just enough to see what happens when the rules stop mattering and the people start to.

The apartment feels different when the others are gone, quieter, yes, but not the hollow kind of quiet that echoes off the walls. It’s softer, warmer, like the whole space exhales once Heeseung, Jay, and Sunghoon finally slip out the door with their jackets half-zipped and promises of “real food” still lingering in the air. Twenty minutes ago they each pressed a kiss to your forehead, Heeseung’s lingering the longest, his thumb sweeping slow circles over your cheekbone as if he still couldn’t quite believe you were letting all four of them stay, Jay’s quick and teasing with a wink, Sunghoon’s almost shy, lips brushing your skin like a secret. They told Jake to behave, and the second the door clicked shut behind them, Jake’s grin turned wicked, golden-retriever energy dialed up to eleven, like the instruction itself was foreplay.

He’s been orbiting you ever since, turning half-hearted chores into an excuse to stay glued to your side. You’re folding laundry on the couch, and he keeps “helping” by snatching shirts out of your hands just to hold them up like trophies before tossing them back in a messy pile. In the kitchen he hip-checks you every time you reach for a dish towel, laughing low and bright when you swat at his chest. The late-afternoon sun pours through the big windows in thick golden slabs, catching on the fine hairs of his arms, turning his skin warm and honeyed. You’re both a little sweaty from moving around, the faint scent of his cologne, something clean, mixing with the laundry detergent and the leftover smell of last night’s fried chicken still clinging to the air. 

“You’re terrible at this,” you say, watching him wrestle a fitted sheet into something that vaguely resembles a rectangle. The elastic corners keep snapping back at him like they have a personal grudge.

Jake flashes that devastating, all-teeth smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m excellent at distractions. Watch this, baby.”

Before you can protest, he shakes the sheet out with dramatic flair, like a matador taunting a bull, then whips it over both your heads in one smooth motion. The world narrows instantly to white cotton filtered sunlight, the fabric draping around you like a private tent. You’re both laughing before you can stop it, deep, helpless belly laughs that make your ribs ache and your eyes water. The sheet muffles everything, turning the sound intimate and close. Jake’s body is right there, heat radiating off him, chest brushing yours with every breathless chuckle. He tugs you deeper under the fabric, arms wrapping loosely around your waist, and suddenly the playful game shifts. His nose nudges yours. You feel the brush of his lashes against your cheek. The laughter fades into something heavier, warmer, the air between you thickening like honey.

“See?” he murmurs, voice low and rougher now. “Masterclass in procrastination.”

You roll your eyes, but your hands are already sliding up his chest, fingers curling into the soft cotton of his t-shirt. You don’t push him away. You pull him closer.

The sheet eventually slips to the floor in a crumpled heap, forgotten. You move down the hallway together, the basket of clean clothes balanced on your hip, Jake trailing so close his fingers keep ghosting the small of your back. You bend over to grab a stray sock that’s escaped onto the floor, nothing exaggerated, just a natural lean, your thin cotton shorts riding up just enough to expose the curve where thigh meets hip. Behind you, Jake sucks in a sharp, punched-out breath, like the sight physically winds him.

You freeze.

His hand settles on your hip, palm broad and hot, fingers spreading wide over the soft flesh through the fabric. Not a slap, not a grope. Just… claiming. Resting there with deliberate weight, thumb stroking a slow, lazy circle that makes your skin prickle. You feel every callus on his fingertips, the faint tremble in his touch like he’s fighting the urge to squeeze harder. Heat blooms low in your belly, liquid and slow.

You straighten up slowly, deliberately, and his hand stays glued to you, sliding with the motion so it ends up cupping the full cheek. He turns you around with the gentlest pressure on your hip, like you’re made of glass he’s terrified of cracking. Your back meets the cool wall of the hallway with a soft thud. Jake crowds in immediately, but not aggressively, his body cages you without trapping, one forearm braced beside your head, the other hand still kneading your ass with slow, possessive squeezes that make your breath hitch.

His eyes have gone dark, almost black, pupils blown wide. Not the usual playful hunger. Something deeper. Hungrier. Worshipful.

“Hey,” he breathes, voice gravel-rough. “You good? Still with me?” You nod, small and shaky, because the air has turned thick, syrupy, every inhale dragging like molasses. Your nipples are already tight against your shirt, and you know he can see it. He leans in like he’s giving you every chance to stop him. The first kiss is feather-light, barely a brush of lips, testing, asking. You answer by tilting your head, parting your mouth just enough, tongue flicking out to taste him. That’s all the permission he needs.

Jake kisses you like he’s been starving for it since the day you moved in, like every shared glance and late-night movie marathon has been foreplay leading to this exact second. Slow. So fucking slow. His lips are plush and warm, sliding against yours with wet, deliberate pressure. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, tongue tracing the seam until you open wider, then he licks inside, deep, lazy strokes that map every inch of you like he’s memorizing the taste. You moan softly into his mouth and he answers with a low, guttural groan that vibrates straight down to your clit. His hand on your ass tightens, pulling you flush against him so you can feel exactly how hard he already is, thick, heavy ridge straining against his sweatpants, pressing right against your lower belly.

One of his hands cradles your jaw, thumb stroking your cheekbone while the other slides up under your shirt, palm flat and scorching against the bare skin of your stomach. He doesn’t rush. His fingers splay wide, stroking up your ribs, tracing the underside of your breasts with reverent touches. When his thumb finally brushes over your nipple, already pebbled and aching, he circles it slowly, pinching just hard enough to make you gasp and arch into him. He swallows the sound, kissing you deeper, tongue fucking into your mouth in filthy, rhythmic strokes that mimic exactly what you wish his cock was doing somewhere else.

You’re grinding on his thigh now, small, helpless rolls of your hips that drag your soaked pussy along the hard muscle. The thin fabric of your shorts is useless; you can feel how wet you’ve gotten, the slickness coating your inner thighs, probably leaving a damp spot on his sweats. Jake breaks the kiss only to drag his open mouth down your jaw, sucking wet, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. He bites down gently, then soothes it with his tongue, leaving faint red marks that bloom under his lips. You tilt your head back against the wall, exposing more of your throat, and he takes full advantage, licking a hot stripe down to your collarbone, sucking hard enough that you know there’ll be bruises tomorrow, little purple galaxies only the four of them will see.

“Fuck, you taste so fucking good,” he groans against your skin, voice wrecked. “Sweet. Like you’ve been waiting for me to do this all day.”

His hand leaves your breast only to slide down, cupping your pussy through your shorts. He doesn’t push inside, just rubs the heel of his palm in slow, firm circles right over your clit, feeling how soaked the fabric is. You whimper, hips jerking, and he chuckles darkly into your neck.

“Yeah? That feel good, baby? You’re dripping for me already.”

You can’t answer with words, just a broken moan as two of his fingers slip under the hem of your shorts, tracing your slick folds without pushing in, spreading your wetness up to your clit and rubbing tight, teasing circles. Your hands are frantic now, one fisted in his hair, the other palming the thick length of his cock through his sweats, squeezing and stroking him until he’s panting against your mouth, hips twitching like he’s fighting not to rut into your hand.

You kiss for what feels like hours, messy, spit-slick, tongues tangled and sliding. Your lips are swollen and tingling, jaw aching in the best way. He keeps breaking away only to come right back, sucking on your tongue, biting your bottom lip, whispering filthy little praises between kisses.

“So fucking pretty when you’re desperate like this… making those sweet little sounds for me… gonna ruin me, baby, you know that?”

Your legs are trembling. He notices, always notices, and presses his thigh harder between yours, letting you ride it properly now, the friction perfect and relentless. His fingers keep working your clit in lazy strokes, dipping just inside your entrance to gather more slick before sliding back up, never giving you enough to come, just keeping you right on the edge, trembling and whimpering into his mouth.

When he finally pulls back, forehead resting against yours, both of you are breathing like you’ve run miles, chests heaving, lips shiny and red, his hair a complete mess from your fingers. His eyes are glassy, cheeks flushed, cock throbbing visibly against your palm.

“Shit,” he laughs, breathless and shaky. “I didn’t mean to… fuck, I just—”

You cut him off with another kiss, slow, deep, pouring everything you’re feeling into it. When you pull away, you whisper against his swollen lips, “I know. I wanted it too.”

He smiles, that crooked, boyish, heart-stopping smile, and kisses the tip of your nose, then your forehead, then pulls you tight into his chest. His arms wrap around you completely, one hand still cupping your ass possessively, the other stroking soothing circles up and down your spine. You can feel his heart hammering against yours, his cock still hard and insistent between you, but he doesn’t push. Doesn’t grind. Just holds you there in the hallway, the distant hum of the fridge and the faint city traffic the only sounds left.

You stay like that for a long, indulgent stretch of minutes, bodies pressed together, breaths syncing, the ache between your legs still pulsing but somehow perfectly satisfied by the simple fact of being wrapped up in him. His lips brush your temple.

“Friends can make out, right?” he murmurs, echoing the joke from earlier, voice warm with affection and something deeper.

You laugh softly against his chest, the sound muffled and content. “Yeah, Jake. Friends can definitely make out.”

And for now, for this golden, sun-drenched afternoon, that’s more than enough. The others will be back soon, but right now the apartment is yours and his, and he just keeps holding you like he never wants to let go.

The hallway still smells faintly of Jake’s cologne, clean and warm skin, and the soft, powdery scent of laundry detergent clinging to the crumpled clothes you never quite finished putting away. His lips are swollen and glossy from the long, lazy make-out against the wall, cheeks flushed a deep pink, pupils blown so wide the pretty hazel is almost gone. He’s breathing hard through his nose, forehead pressed to yours like he needs the contact to stay grounded, hands still shoved up under your shirt, palms hot and broad against the small of your back, thumbs tracing slow, idle arcs that make your spine tingle.

“Fuck,” he whispers, voice wrecked and soft all at once, raw like he’s been shouting your name for hours even though he hasn’t. “I need you on me, princess. Need to feel that pretty pussy sliding down my cock right fucking now.”

The words drop straight into your belly, heavy and molten. You swallow hard, thighs pressing together on instinct, and he feels the tiny clench, grins against the side of your neck, boyish and filthy at the same time.

He doesn’t beg. Doesn’t grab. Just brushes his mouth over the shell of your ear, hot breath ghosting, voice a low rasp that curls straight between your legs.

“Ride me. Please. On the couch. Slow. Let me feel every inch of you taking me like you own it.”

Your cunt throbs at the plea. You nod before you even realize you’re doing it.

Jake laces his fingers through yours, gentle, almost sweet, and leads you back down the hall like you’re going for a Sunday stroll, not about to fuck him stupid in the middle of the living room. The late-afternoon light has shifted, pouring across the big sectional in thick, golden rivers; the cushions are still dented from earlier folding sessions, the air warm and lazy. He drops onto the couch first, sprawling wide, legs splayed, grey sweats already tented, the thick outline of his cock straining against the fabric like it’s trying to escape.

He then hooks his fingers against the edge of your shorts and drags them down, along with your panties. His eyes darken as he gulps and looks up at you.

He pats his thigh once, slow, inviting, eyes locked on yours with that crooked, heart-melting grin.

You don’t hesitate. You climb on, knees sinking into the cushions on either side of his hips, and the first slow grind of your bare, soaked cunt against the hard, hot length of him through the thin material rips a twin hiss from both your throats. You’re dripping, have been since he pinned you to the hallway wall, and the fabric is already darkening under you, slick. Jake’s hands settle on your hips, not guiding yet, just holding, thumbs stroking the skin right above the waistband of your shorts like he’s memorizing the feel of you.

You start slow. Torturously slow. Tiny, rolling rocks of your hips that drag your swollen clit along the rigid ridge of his cock again and again. The friction is perfect, wet, hot, teasing. Every pass makes the fabric cling tighter, the head of his dick bumping right where you need it. Jake’s head falls back against the couch, throat working on a low, broken groan, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Goddamn, baby… look at you. Already so fucking wet you’re soaking through my sweats. That little pussy weeping for me.”

You giggle, breathless, giddy, almost embarrassed at how turned on you are, and lean down to kiss him. Soft at first, just lips brushing, then deeper: tongues sliding lazy and messy, tasting the faint salt of his skin and the sweetness of the iced americano he had earlier. His hands slide back under your shirt, palms scalding against your ribs, thumbs circling the undersides of your breasts in slow, reverent strokes until your nipples are tight, aching peaks. He pinches them gently, rolls them between thumb and forefinger, and you arch into his touch with a whimper that makes him smile against your mouth.

“You’re so fucking soft,” he mumbles between kisses, voice thick. “So perfect. Been dreaming about this tight little cunt wrapped around me since the second you walked through that door and smiled at all of us like we hung the moon. Gonna let me feel it now, princess? Gonna sit on my cock and ride me nice and slow?”

You lift just enough to shove his sweats down his thighs. His cock springs free, thick, flushed dark, veins standing out, the tip already glistening with a fat bead of pre-cum that streaks down the shaft when you wrap your fingers around him. One slow, firm stroke from base to head has him groaning, hips twitching up into your fist. You line him up, notch the blunt head against your dripping entrance, and sink down.

The first inch is heaven.

You both moan, long, filthy sounds, as he stretches you open, thick and hot and perfect, splitting you so deliciously slow you feel every ridge, every vein. Your mouth falls open, eyes fluttering shut. He bottoms out with your ass flush to his thighs, balls pressed tight against you, and the fullness is so overwhelming your walls flutter around him like you’re already close.

“Fuuuuck,” Jake breathes, hands flexing hard on your hips, fingers digging in just enough to bruise. “That’s it. Take every fucking inch, princess. Look at you, swallowing me like you were made for it. So goddamn tight and wet and perfect.”

You start riding him properly, long, deliberate lifts and sinks, rolling your hips on every downstroke so your clit grinds against his pelvis. The sounds of your cunt taking him echo in the quiet apartment: slick, filthy squelches every time you drop down, his cock glistening with your arousal when you rise. Jake’s eyes are glued to where you’re joined, watching himself disappear inside you over and over with something like awe.

“Listen to that,” he groans, voice cracking. “That sloppy little sound every time you take me. You’re dripping down my balls, baby, making such a pretty mess all over me. Gonna stain the couch and I don’t even care.”

You bury your face in his neck for a second, flushed and turned on beyond words, then bite down on the skin there, light, teasing. He jolts, cock twitching hard inside you, and groans louder.

“Fuck, do that again. Mark me up, princess. Want the others to see who got to have you first.”

You do, sucking a faint pink bloom into his throat while you ride him harder, faster, breasts bouncing under your thin shirt. His mouth finds your nipple through the fabric, sucking hard, teeth grazing, soaking the cotton until it’s transparent and clinging. You cry out, high and needy, hips snapping down faster now, chasing the heat coiling tighter and tighter in your belly.

Jake’s losing it beautifully, head thrown back, throat exposed, hands gripping your ass and spreading you wider so he can watch every inch of his cock sliding in and out of your greedy cunt.

“Shit, ride it harder, baby. Fuck yourself on me. Use my cock like the greedy little slut you are. Come all over it, wanna feel this pussy milk me dry.”

The filthy words spoken in that sweet, reverent tone send you spiraling. You slam down harder, clit grinding relentlessly, thighs burning. He slides one hand between you, thumb finding your swollen clit and rubbing fast, firm circles.

“Come on, princess. Give it to me. Soak my cock. Make it messy. Wanna feel you gush.”

You shatter with a broken cry, head thrown back, back arching, clamping down around him in hard, pulsing waves. Your vision whites out. Thighs shake violently. You gush around him, slick flooding out around his base, soaking his balls and the couch beneath you. Jake swears, low and guttural, hips stuttering up once, twice, burying himself to the hilt as he comes, thick, hot ropes of cum painting your walls, filling you so full it leaks out immediately around his throbbing length.

He holds you flush against him through every aftershock, arms banded tight around your waist, forehead pressed to your collarbone, breathing ragged and shaky. You stay like that, sweaty, trembling, his softening cock still buried deep inside you, cum slowly trickling out, while he kisses your shoulder, your neck, the corner of your mouth with soft, lazy presses.

“Best fucking ride of my life,” he mumbles, voice hoarse and sated, nuzzling into your hair.

You laugh, soft, spent, glowing, and nuzzle back. “Friends can do that too, right?”

He chuckles, kissing your temple. “Friends can do whatever the fuck they want.” You’re still seated on him, his cock twitching occasionally inside your cum-filled pussy, when the front door clicks open.

Neither of you moves fast enough. Sunghoon steps in first, grocery bags dangling from one hand, keys in the other, the faint scent of fresh produce and restaurant takeout wafting in with him. He freezes mid-step. Eyes lock on the scene: you straddling Jake on the couch, shirt rucked up to your collarbones, thighs spread obscenely wide, Jake’s cock still half-hard and buried inside you, thick white cum already leaking in slow, creamy rivulets down his balls and onto the cushion.

The bags hit the floor with a heavy, forgotten thud. A carton of eggs probably cracks, but no one cares. Sunghoon’s jaw tightens so hard you hear the sharp click of his teeth. His eyes, usually cool and calm, go black, dangerous, glittering with something possessive and furious.

“What. The. Fuck.”

His voice is ice wrapped in velvet. Low. Deadly calm. Jake startles, arms tightening around you protectively, but he doesn’t dare pull out. Doesn’t even try to cover you.

“Hyung—wait, it’s not—”

Sunghoon crosses the room in three long strides, towering over both of you. He doesn’t yell. Doesn’t shove Jake. Just reaches down, grips your chin between thumb and forefinger, firm, not bruising, and tilts your face up to meet his gaze. His thumb drags slow and deliberate across your bottom lip, then presses inside. You suck instinctively, tongue swirling around the digit, tasting the faint salt of his skin.

His eyes flick to Jake, cold as winter.

“Get out from under her. Now.”

Jake hesitates half a second. Sunghoon’s voice drops even lower, lethal.

“I said now.”

Jake lifts you carefully with a wet, filthy sound that makes Sunghoon’s nostrils flare. The moment he slips free, a thick gush of his cum pours out of you, sliding down your inner thighs in white trails. Jake stays seated on the couch, chest heaving as he watches warily.

Sunghoon never looks away from you. He steps closer, one hand sliding to the nape of your neck, thumb pressing right over your racing pulse, while the other grips your hip hard enough to anchor you. “You let him fuck you the second we walked out the door?” he murmurs, voice velvet and venom, lips brushing your ear. “Spread this pretty pussy for whoever was home first? Without waiting for me? Without even texting?”

You shake your head, small, instinctive, breath caught in your throat. “No?”

He leans in closer, breath hot against your skin. “Then why the fuck are you stuffed so full of him, hmm?”

Two of his long fingers dip between your thighs without warning, sliding deep into your cum-slick cunt with a wet squelch. You gasp, knees buckling. He curls them slowly, deliberately, scissoring, feeling the warm, sticky mess Jake left behind, pushing it deeper before dragging it out again. When he pulls his fingers free they’re coated thick and white. He holds them up between you, shiny, dripping, then brings them to your mouth.

“Clean.”

You open obediently. Suck his fingers clean, tongue swirling, tasting yourself and Jake and the faint metallic tang of Sunghoon’s skin, moaning around them while he watches with dark, unblinking eyes.

“Good girl,” he praises, voice low and rough. Then, suddenly, he yanks you forward by the neck and kisses you, hard, possessive, teeth clashing, tongue fucking into your mouth like he’s erasing every trace of Jake’s kisses. When he pulls back his lips are wet, eyes blazing with jealousy and hunger.

“Bedroom. Now.”

He doesn’t wait for you to walk. Just scoops you up like you weigh nothing, your legs wrapping around his waist, arms around his neck, cum still dripping down your thighs and onto his shirt. Jake scrambles up and follows, sweats tugged up haphazardly.

Sunghoon kicks the bedroom door shut behind the three of you with a bang that rattles the frame. He drops you onto the bed, gentle enough not to hurt, rough enough that you bounce, thighs splaying open automatically. He looms over you, tall and broad and radiating controlled fury.

“Strip. Everything off. Let me see exactly what he got to play with while I was gone.”

You obey instantly, tugging your shirt over your head, shoving your shorts down, kicking them aside until you’re completely bare, pussy puffy and glistening.

His gaze rakes over every inch of you, slow, possessive, furious, hungry. He licks his lips. “You’re mine tonight, princess. All fucking mine. And you’re going to feel exactly who this cunt belongs to until you can’t remember anyone else’s name.”

He glances at Jake, standing frozen by the door, eyes wide and cock twitching in his sweats.

“You can watch,” Sunghoon says coldly, voice like a blade. “But you don’t touch. Not until I say so. You sit there and watch me take back what’s mine.”

Jake swallows hard. Nods once. Sinks into the chair in the corner, hand already palming himself through his sweats like he can’t help it.

Sunghoon turns back to you. Grabs your thighs in both hands and spreads them wide, wide enough that your folds spread, dripping. He lowers his head slowly, eyes locked on yours the entire time.

The first long, vicious swipe of his tongue through your folds is punishing, hot, wet, claiming, licking every drop of Jake’s cum straight out of you like he’s erasing the evidence. You arch off the bed with a sharp cry, hands flying to his hair. Sunghoon doesn’t stop. He eats you like a man starved, tongue fucking deep inside your cum-filled hole, sucking noisily, swallowing every filthy mix of you and Jake with low, possessive growls that vibrate straight to your clit. He sucks your swollen folds into his mouth, tongue flicking mercilessly over your clit, then dives back in to lap at the creamy mess still oozing out of you.

You’re moaning, loud, broken, shameless, hips grinding against his face while he devours you, chin and lips shiny with cum and your fresh slick. He pulls back just long enough to growl against your thigh,

“Gonna lick every last drop of him out of this pussy until it only tastes like me. And then I’m going to fuck you so deep you’ll still feel me tomorrow when the others take their turns.”

His mouth seals back over your clit, sucking hard, two fingers plunging deep, and the jealousy is only just beginning.

The bedroom is thick with the sounds of Sunghoon’s mouth devouring you, long, filthy drags of his tongue through your cum-slick folds, sucking Jake’s release out of your fluttering hole like he’s personally insulted by every drop. He’s relentless, humming low against your clit, two fingers curled deep inside you, scissoring and stroking that spongy spot that makes your thighs quake around his ears. Your back is arched off the bed, hands fisted in his dark hair, moans spilling out broken and shameless as another orgasm teeters right on the edge.

Then the door bangs open.

Heeseung fills the frame like a storm cloud, broad shoulders tight, jaw locked, one hand fisted in the back of Jake’s t-shirt. Jake looks wrecked already: lips kiss-swollen, cheeks flushed crimson, cock still half-hard and shiny with your slick, the cocky little grin from earlier completely wiped away. Heeseung doesn’t even glance at you at first. His voice is low, calm, the kind of calm that makes the air feel heavier.

“Living room. Now.”

Jake opens his mouth, probably to whine, to joke, to try and charm his way out of it, but Heeseung’s grip tightens, fabric stretching across Jake’s shoulders. Jake stumbles forward instead, casting one last wide-eyed look at you before they disappear down the hall. The living-room door shuts with a soft, deliberate click that somehow feels louder than a slam.

You’re left panting, chest heaving, Sunghoon’s tongue still lazily circling your clit like the interruption was nothing more than background noise. He presses one last open-mouthed kiss to your dripping pussy, then pulls back slowly, lips glossy, chin glistening with a messy mix of you and Jake. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, slow and deliberate, eyes dark and glittering with dark amusement as he rises to his knees between your spread thighs.

“Looks like someone earned himself a timeout,” he murmurs, voice velvet-rough, thumb brushing a lazy stripe up your inner thigh to collect the fresh slick still leaking out of you. His gaze flicks toward the hallway, then back to your flushed, trembling body. “Guess that leaves the three of us to remind you exactly how this works, princess.”

Jay appears in the doorway a heartbeat later, arms crossed over his chest, shoulder propped against the frame, eyes raking over you with that cool, assessing hunger that always makes your stomach flip. He takes his time stepping inside, shutting the door behind him with a quiet snick, the lock clicking into place like a promise.

You try to push yourself up on your elbows, instinct, nerves, the sudden awareness of how exposed and messy you are, but Sunghoon’s large hand plants flat on your sternum and pushes you right back down into the mattress. Firm. Unyielding. Possessive.

“Stay right there,” he says softly, almost sweet, but the edge underneath it makes your cunt clench around nothing. “We’re not done with you yet.”

Jay stops at the foot of the bed, looking down at the obscene picture you make: completely naked, skin flushed pink, thighs shiny with slick and cum, nipples tight and begging, pussy puffy and still leaking. He reaches out, fingers threading through the hair at your scalp, tightening until your breath hitches. He yanks your head back just enough to expose the long line of your throat, thumb stroking once over your racing pulse.

“You let him fuck you raw the second we left,” Jay says, voice low and dangerously even. “Without asking. Without waiting. Without even a text to let us know our pretty little slut was getting her cunt filled.”

His free hand slides down your body, possessive, claiming, cupping your soaked pussy like it belongs to him. Two thick fingers push inside without warning, rough and deep, curling hard against that spot that makes white sparks burst behind your eyes. You cry out, hips jerking, walls fluttering greedily around the intrusion.

Sunghoon watches with a mean little smile, one hand lazily stroking his own thick cock. “This pussy,” Jay continues, voice dropping to a growl as he pumps his fingers faster, “is ours. All of ours. You don’t get to decide who fills it first when we’re not here. Understand?”

You nod frantically, tears of overwhelming pleasure already pricking your eyes. “Y-yes—fuck—yes, it’s yours—”

Sunghoon’s hand replaces Jay’s on your throat, long fingers wrapping around the column, squeezing just enough to make the edges of your vision sparkle and your cunt gush around Jay’s fingers. Not cutting off air. Just reminding you who’s in control.

“Good girl,” Sunghoon breathes against your ear, leaning down to bite your earlobe. “Now prove it.”

They move like they’ve choreographed this a hundred times in their heads.

Jay flips you onto your stomach in one smooth motion, face pressed into the sheets that already smell like sex, ass up high, back arched deep. He keeps one hand fisted tight in your hair, yanking your head back until your spine bends in that perfect, aching curve. Sunghoon shoves your thighs wider apart, knees sinking into the mattress as he kneels behind you. His cock is flushed dark, angry, veins throbbing, pre-cum beading at the tip as he lines up and slams in, deep, brutal, one single punishing thrust that punches the air straight out of your lungs.

You scream into the sheets, the stretch burning so good it borders on too much. Sunghoon doesn’t give you time to adjust. He sets a ruthless pace immediately, hips snapping forward, balls slapping wetly against your clit with every brutal drive, the wet squelch of your cum-filled pussy echoing obscenely. Jay releases your hair only to wrap his hand around your throat from the front instead, squeezing in perfect time with Sunghoon’s thrusts, thumb pressing under your jaw so you feel every heartbeat.

“Take it,” Jay growls, voice rough with arousal. “Every fucking inch. You wanted cock so bad you couldn’t even wait for all of us? Then you’re gonna take everything we give you, princess. Gonna let us ruin this greedy little hole until you remember who it belongs to.”

Sunghoon leans over your back, chest slick with sweat against your spine, one hand fisting your hair now while the other reaches around to slap your clit, sharp, stinging little taps that make you clench and sob. Jay’s free hand comes down hard on your ass, once, twice, three times, each smack leaving a bright red handprint that blooms hot across your skin.

“Whose pussy is this?” Jay demands, voice low and filthy.

“Yours—” you sob, voice cracking. “Yours—fuck—yours—Sunghoon—Jay—please—”

Sunghoon yanks your head back harder, lips brushing your ear as he pounds into you. “Say it louder. Let the whole fucking apartment hear who owns this cunt.”

The rhythmic slap of skin on skin, your choked moans, Sunghoon’s low possessive growls—“This tight little pussy is fucking mine”—carry clearly down the hallway.

In the living room, Heeseung has Jake pinned against the wall by the collar, fist raised, knuckles white with restraint. The first muffled scream from the bedroom makes them both freeze. Then another, higher, broken, needy. The unmistakable wet slap of Sunghoon’s hips. Jay’s dark chuckle. Your desperate, gagged whimpers around whatever they’re doing to your mouth now.

Heeseung’s fist slowly lowers. Jake’s eyes go wide, cock twitching visibly in his sweats.

Heeseung turns toward the bedroom door, expression unreadable but eyes burning.

Then they’re both moving, fast. 

They burst through the door just as Sunghoon buries himself to the hilt with a guttural groan. You’re a complete wreck: face down, ass up, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth, tears streaking your cheeks, ass glowing red from Jay’s handprints, cunt stretched obscenely around Sunghoon’s thick cock, creamy cum from Jake and your own slick coating your thighs.

Heeseung stops at the foot of the bed, takes one long, possessive look at the scene, then climbs on without a word. 

“Move,” he tells Sunghoon, voice low and lethal.

Sunghoon slows just enough to pull out with a wet, filthy pop, thick strings of cum and slick connecting his cock to your gaping hole. Heeseung grabs your hips, flips you onto your back like you weigh nothing, and hooks your legs over his arms, folding you in half until your knees are by your ears. He lines up and slams in, harder, deeper, angrier than Sunghoon, bottoming out in one brutal thrust that makes you scream his name.

Jay pulls back from where he’d been feeding you his cock, letting you gasp for air, then moves behind you. Sunghoon shifts to your side, hand wrapping around your throat again, thumb stroking your pulse almost tenderly now.

Jay presses the blunt head of his cock against your ass, already slick from the mess dripping down, and pushes in slow, relentless, the burn intense and overwhelming as he stretches you open around him. Heeseung stays buried to the hilt in your pussy, holding perfectly still while Jay sinks deeper, until both of them are fully seated inside you, rubbing against each other through the thin wall, filling you so completely you can feel them in your throat.

You’re sobbing, overwhelmed, stretched to your limit, pleasure so sharp it hurts, in the best possible way.

“Breathe, baby,” Sunghoon murmurs, voice softer now, fingers loosening just enough on your throat. “You’re taking us so fucking well. Such a good girl for us.”

They start moving, slow at first, testing, letting you adjust to the impossible fullness. Then harder. Deeper. Alternating thrusts, Heeseung driving in while Jay pulls out, Jay slamming home while Heeseung retreats, until the rhythm syncs and they’re both fucking into you at the same time, stretching you open on two thick cocks with every synchronized thrust.

Jake stands frozen by the door, cock rock-hard again, hand wrapped tight around it, stroking himself slow and desperate, eyes wide and glassy with guilt and raw arousal. Sunghoon notices. His voice cuts through the wet sounds of flesh. “Watch, Jake. You started this. Now you get to watch how we remind her exactly who she belongs to.”

Jay’s fingers find your swollen, oversensitive clit, rubbing fast, rough circles that make your vision spark white.

“Come,” he orders, voice rough. “Come on both our cocks. Milk us. Show us who this perfect body belongs to.”

You shatter harder than you ever have, screaming, back bowing, spasming violently around both cocks, gushing slick down Heeseung’s shaft as your orgasm rips through you in endless waves. Heeseung comes first with a deep, broken growl of your name, flooding your pussy with hot, thick pulses. Jay follows seconds later, burying himself deep in your ass and filling you with rope after rope until it leaks out around his base. Sunghoon strokes himself twice, fast and rough, then spills across your stomach and tits in long, creamy stripes, marking you visibly.

They don’t pull out right away.

Just stay buried deep inside you, panting, sweating, chests heaving, holding you between them like something precious and thoroughly, beautifully ruined.

Heeseung leans down first, pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to your tear-streaked cheek. “Mine,” he whispers against your skin.

Jay echoes it against your shoulder, lips brushing the fresh bite mark Sunghoon left earlier. “Mine.”

Sunghoon’s fingers loosen completely on your throat, turning into gentle strokes along your jaw. “Mine too, princess. Always.”

You’re trembling, wrecked, full to overflowing, claimed in every possible way. And Jake, still standing by the door, cock leaking in his fist, eyes shiny with regret and desperate need, looks like he’s never wanted forgiveness more in his life.

The entire room smells like sex and sweat and something deeper, something dangerously close to devotion. None of them move to let you go. Not yet.

The room is thick with the aftermath, sweat, sex, the faint metallic tang of overstimulation hanging in the air like smoke. Your body feels liquid and heavy, every muscle spent, every inch of skin marked in some way: fingerprints blooming on your hips, faint red lines from Sunghoon’s grip on your throat, the slow leak of them all still inside you, warm and obscene between your thighs.

No one moves right away.

Heeseung is the first to shift. He eases out of you carefully, slow, deliberate, hissing softly at the drag. Jay follows, pulling out with the same measured gentleness, both of them watching your face for any flicker of pain. Sunghoon’s hand leaves your throat last, fingers trailing down your sternum in a soothing path before he sits back on his heels.

You’re trembling, small, involuntary shivers that ripple through you like aftershocks. Jay notices first. He reaches over the side of the bed, grabs the soft throw blanket that’s been kicked to the floor sometime in the last hour. Drapes it over your lower half, tucking it around your waist like he’s wrapping something fragile.

“Easy,” he murmurs. Voice low, rough from use. “We’ve got you.”

Heeseung slides off the bed, still naked, still glistening, and disappears into the en-suite bathroom. Water runs. A minute later he returns with two warm, damp cloths. One for your face, one for between your legs.

He kneels beside you. Presses the cloth to your cheek first, gentle swipes over tear tracks, then your swollen lips. You lean into it without thinking. Heeseung’s free hand cups the back of your head, thumb stroking the base of your skull in slow circles.

Sunghoon moves to your other side. Takes the second cloth from Heeseung when he’s done with your face. Parts your thighs carefully, murmurs a soft “shh” when you flinch at the cool air, and cleans you with careful strokes. Between your folds, down your thighs, over the sticky mess on your stomach and chest. He’s thorough. Patient. Every pass of the cloth feels like an apology he doesn’t know how to say out loud.

Jake is still hovering near the door, shirtless now, sweats low on his hips, looking like he’s not sure he’s allowed to come closer. Heeseung glances at him once. Sharp. Then softer.

“Water,” Heeseung says. Not an order. Just a word. Jake nods, quick, grateful, and bolts. Heeseung turns back to you.

“Can you sit up a little?” You nod, weak, but willing. Jay helps, arm around your shoulders, easing you against the headboard. Pillows get rearranged behind your back until you’re propped comfortably. The blanket stays tucked around your waist; someone (Sunghoon) pulls the sheet up to cover your chest without smothering you.

Jake returns with a tall glass of water and, somehow, a small tray he must have grabbed from the kitchen. On it: a bowl of cut fruit (strawberries, mango, grapes, someone’s idea of “recovery food”), a few pieces of the chocolate they keep stashed in the fridge, a packet of electrolyte powder already stirred into a second glass.

He sets it on the nightstand. Doesn’t try to climb on the bed yet. Just stands there, hands in his pockets, looking at you like you might vanish if he blinks.

Jay picks up a strawberry first. Holds it to your lips.

“Open.”

You do. The fruit is cold, sweet, bursting on your tongue. Jay feeds you slowly, another strawberry, then a piece of mango. His fingers brush your bottom lip each time, wiping away juice with his thumb.

Sunghoon takes over with the chocolate. Breaks off a small square, places it on your tongue. Watches you melt it slowly, eyes dark but soft.

“You did so good,” he says quietly. Almost to himself. “Took everything we gave you.”

Heeseung handles the water, holds the glass to your lips, tips it carefully so you can sip without spilling. When you’ve had enough, he sets it aside and wipes your mouth with the edge of the sheet.

Jake finally moves closer, slow, like he’s approaching something skittish. He perches on the very edge of the mattress.

“I’m sorry,” he says. Voice small. “For earlier. For not waiting. For—” Heeseung cuts him off with a look. Not angry. Tired.

“Later,” Heeseung says. “She needs rest now.” Jake nods. Swallows hard. Jay reaches over, squeezes Jake’s shoulder once, firm, forgiving, then turns back to you.

“More?” he asks, nodding at the tray.

You shake your head. Full. Heavy-lidded. The ache between your legs has dulled to a low, satisfied throb; your limbs feel like warm honey.

Sunghoon takes the tray away. Sets it on the dresser.

Heeseung pulls the covers up higher, tucking them around your shoulders, smoothing the fabric over your chest. Jay adjusts the pillows again so you’re lying flat but elevated just enough. They surround you, four bodies, four sources of warmth, without crowding.

Heeseung lies on your left. Arm draped loosely over your waist. Not possessive. Protective. Jay on your right. Hand resting on your hip under the blanket. Thumb stroking idle arcs. Sunghoon stretches out at the foot of the bed, long legs hanging off the edge, head pillowed on your thigh like it’s the most natural place in the world.

Jake curls up against your legs, face tucked into the crook of your knee, one arm thrown over your shins like he’s anchoring himself there. No one speaks for a long minute. Just breathing. Slow. In sync.

Heeseung’s fingers find yours under the blanket. Laces them together. Squeezes once. “Sleep,” he murmurs against your temple. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Jay presses a kiss to your shoulder, soft, lingering. Sunghoon’s hand strokes down your calf, slow, soothing.

Jake mumbles something sleepy against your skin, too quiet to catch, but it feels like “thank you.” Your eyes flutter closed. The room smells like them, all of them, mixed with clean sheets and the faint sweetness of fruit. Just warm bodies. Gentle hands. Quiet promises. And the steady rhythm of four heartbeats lulling you under.

The idea starts innocently enough.

It’s been three days since the jealousy the three had that they claimed was just ‘heat of the moment’ but you knew better, and the apartment has settled into something dangerously close to domestic. Mornings are soft now, coffee passed hand-to-hand, lazy kisses traded over toast, rules quietly ignored unless someone’s feeling particularly mean. The fridge note is still taped up, but no one’s enforced them. It’s almost… normal.

Almost. Jay is the one who brings it up first. You’re sprawled across his lap on the sectional Sunday afternoon, legs tangled with Sunghoon’s, Jake’s head pillowed on your stomach while Heeseung scrolls through takeout apps from the armchair. Jay’s fingers are tracing idle patterns on your bare thigh, higher than friendly,lower than any action, when he says it.

“I want to take you out.”

The room stills. You lift your head from Jake’s hair. “Like… a date?” Jay’s mouth quirks. “Yeah. A date. Just you and me. Dinner. Somewhere nice. No roommates crashing.”

Sunghoon snorts without looking up from his phone. “Good luck with that.”

Heeseung glances over the top of his screen. “You’re asking permission?”

Jay shrugs. “I’m telling you. Friday night. She’s mine for the evening.”

Jake sits up slowly, blinking sleep from his eyes. “Wait—solo? Like, no sharing?”

Jay’s hand tightens on your thigh. “No sharing. One night. My rules.”

You feel the shift immediately, the air thickening with something possessive and unspoken. Heeseung’s jaw ticks once. Sunghoon finally looks up, eyes narrowing. Jake just pouts. But no one argues. Friday comes fast.

Jay picks the restaurant himself, small, upscale Italian place downtown. Dim lighting, velvet booths, candles that cost more than your old rent. He texts you the address at 6:45 p.m. sharp.

Jay: Wear something pretty baby ;) preferably no panties sweetheart

You roll your eyes at the winky face and the last obligation, but you obey anyway.

The dress is black, silk, short enough to make you nervous when you sit. Heels that click satisfyingly on the pavement. Hair down, lips red. When Jay arrives to pick you up, he stops dead in the doorway.

“Fuck,” he breathes. Steps close. Cups your face with both hands and kisses you slow, deep, claiming, tasting like mint and want. “You’re killing me.”

The drive is quiet. His hand rests high on your thigh the whole way, thumb stroking the inside seam, never quite reaching where you’re already wet. He doesn’t speak. Just smiles every time you squirm.

The restaurant is perfect.

A corner booth. Wine list thicker than a novel. Jay orders for both of you, pasta, seared scallops, tiramisu for later. His knee presses against yours under the table. His fingers brush yours when he passes the bread. It feels… romantic. Normal. Like you’re a real couple on a real date.

You’re laughing at some stupid story he’s telling about Sunghoon trying to cook once when the first text comes through.

Jake: picture of him pouting on the couch  

Jake: miss u already princess 😩

You snort. Show Jay. He rolls his eyes. “Ignore them.”

Another buzz.

Sunghoon: timestamped selfie, him shirtless in the kitchen, knife in hand, looking bored  

Sunghoon: hurry up. food’s getting cold here

Jay exhales through his nose. “They’re children.” Heeseung’s text is last.

Heeseung: Enjoy your date. We’ll behave.  

Heeseung: …mostly.

Your not sure what that means, you’re not sure if you want to find out. You laugh, soft, nervous, and slip your phone face-down. Jay reaches across the table. Takes your hand. Laces your fingers. “I meant it,” he says quietly. “Tonight’s just us. No crashing. No rules. Just you and me.”

You believe him. For about seven more minutes. The scallops arrive. Perfectly seared. You’re mid-bite when the restaurant door opens. And four familiar silhouettes step inside. Jake first, grinning like he invented mischief. Sunghoon behind him, hands in pockets, expression unreadable. Heeseung last, calm, collected, scanning the room until his eyes land on you.

Jay’s fork pauses halfway to his mouth.

“Motherfuckers,” he mutters.

They don’t hesitate. Jake slides into the booth beside you first, arm slung casually over the backrest, fingers immediately finding the nape of your neck. “Hey, princess. Fancy seeing you here.”

Sunghoon takes the seat next to Jay, long legs stretching out, forcing Jay to shift. “Nice place. Bit pretentious, though.”

Heeseung pulls up a chair from a nearby table, unapologetic, sits at the end like he owns the booth. “We were in the neighborhood.”

Jay’s jaw is so tight you’re worried it’ll crack.

“You said you would behave.”

Heeseung shrugs. “We are. We’re not fucking her on the table. Yet.”

Your face burns. Jake laughs, bright, delighted, leans in and kisses your cheek. Loud. Wet. “You look so pretty. Red lipstick’s a nice touch.”

Sunghoon reaches across Jay to steal a scallop off your plate. “He’s right. You do look fuckable.” Jay slams his fork down.

“That’s enough.” The table goes quiet.

Jay’s voice is low. Dangerous. “I said one night. Just me and her. You had your turns. Back off.”

Heeseung leans forward. Elbows on the table. “We’re not here to take her. We’re here to watch you try to have her all to yourself.” His gaze flicks to you, dark, heated. “And see how long it takes before she’s begging for the rest of us.”

Jake’s fingers tighten on your neck. “C’mon, hyung. Don’t be dramatic. We can share the appetizer.”

Sunghoon smirks. “Or the main course.”

You’re throbbing under the table. The silk dress feels too tight. The wine too warm in your veins. Jay looks at you, really looks. “Are you okay with this?”

You swallow. Meet his eyes. Then glance at the others. Then back to him. “I’m okay,” you whisper. “But… maybe we skip dessert here.”

Jay exhales, half-laugh, half-snarl. “Bathroom,” he says. “Now.” He stands. Pulls you up with him. The others don’t move. They just exchange knowing glances. Jake just grins. “We’ll keep watch.”

Jay drags you through the restaurant, hand firm on your lower back, past the bar, down the narrow hallway, into the single-stall bathroom at the end.

He locks the door. Spins you around. Pushes you forward until your palms slap the sink. The mirror is huge. You watch your own reflection, lips parted, chest heaving, dress already rucked up to your hips.

Jay’s behind you, fly open, cock hard and leaking. He doesn’t speak. Just yanks your dress higher, notches himself at your entrance, and thrusts in, hard. Deep. One brutal stroke that makes you cry out.

“Quiet,” he growls against your ear. Hand clamps over your mouth. “They can hear.” He fucks you like he’s proving a point. Fast. Rough. Hips snapping. The sink rattles. Your tits bounce with every thrust. His other hand fists your hair, yanks your head back so you’re watching yourself in the mirror.

“Look at you,” he pants. “Taking it so good. Even when they crash. Even when I try to keep you to myself.”

You moan into his palm, muffled, desperate.

He reaches around. Finds your clit. Pinches. Rolls. Hard.

“Come,” he orders. “Come on my cock before they barge in.”

You do, fast, violent, clenching around him so hard he swears. He follows seconds later, burying deep, spilling hot inside you with a choked groan.

He doesn’t pull out right away. Just holds you there, chest to your back,breathing ragged. Then he kisses your shoulder. Soft. Apologetic. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “Couldn’t help it.” You laugh, shaky, wrecked.

He pulls out slowly. Fixes your dress. Wipes between your thighs with paper towels from the dispenser. When you open the door, Jake’s leaning against the opposite wall. Arms crossed. Smirking. “Took you long enough.”

Jay glares. Jake pushes off the wall. Steps close. Kisses you, quick, filthy, tasting Jay on your tongue. “My turn to watch the door,” he says. “Go wait in the car. Round two’s on us.”

Jay takes your hand. Leads you out, past the hostess who definitely knows what just happened, into the cool night air.

The car is parked in the back lot, tinted windows, engine already running. Sunghoon’s in the driver’s seat. Heeseung in the passenger. Both turn when you climb in the back. Sunghoon’s eyes drop to the wet spot on your dress. Smiles, slow, predatory.

“Missed the show?” Heeseung reaches back. Pulls you onto his lap. “Plenty of time for round two,” he murmurs against your neck. Jay slides in beside you. Jake climbs in last, locks the doors. The engine starts. And the night? The night is far from over.

The black SUV idles in the shadowed back lot behind the restaurant, engine a low, steady rumble beneath the distant pulse of music leaking from the outdoor speakers. Tinted windows seal the interior into a private world, leather seats already radiating warmth, the air heavy with Jay’s cologne, the sharp bite of expensive whiskey on their breath, and the unmistakable, intimate musk of sex that still clings to your skin.

You’re straddling Heeseung in the center of the back seat, silk dress shoved up around your waist, thighs spread wide over his hips. His dark jeans are damp where your leaking cunt has pressed against him. Heeseung doesn’t flinch. His hands are beneath the fabric, broad palms cupping your bare ass, fingers spreading you open with deliberate care, holding you exposed and vulnerable in the dim glow filtering through the windows.

Jay sits to your left, shirt untucked, collarbones still flushed, lips swollen and red from the way he’d fucked you against the marble sink in the bathroom minutes earlier. Sunghoon occupies the right side, long legs stretched out, one hand already working the thick outline of his cock through tailored slacks, eyes fixed on the sight between your thighs. Jake has twisted around in the front passenger seat, forearm braced on the headrest, gaze dark and unblinking.

For several long seconds, no one speaks.

Only the rhythm of heavy breathing, the soft creak of leather as bodies shift, the faint metallic tick of the cooling engine. Then Heeseung’s voice, low, gravel-rough, breaks the silence against the shell of your ear.

“You’re still dripping him,” he murmurs, one hand sliding from your ass to slip between your legs from behind. Two fingers push into the slick, swollen heat of your cunt, gathering Jay’s release and pressing it back inside with slow, unhurried strokes. The wet sound is obscene in the confined space. “Can feel it leaking out. Can’t let that go to waste.”

Your body reacts before your mind can catch up, inner walls fluttering, a soft, helpless whimper slipping past your lips as your hips twitch forward. Jay’s hand joins Heeseung’s without hesitation. Four fingers now, stretching you wider, scooping the thick cum deeper, curling against the front wall until your breath hitches sharply.

“He’s right,” Jay says, voice quiet but edged with something darker, more possessive. “We should keep you full. All night. Every time one of us finishes, the next one pushes it right back in.”

Sunghoon leans in closer, breath ghosting hot along the side of your neck. His voice is velvet and steel. “Full until it takes. Until you’re so thoroughly bred there’s no question who put it there.”

The words hit like a physical blow, low in your belly, sharp and electric. Your cunt clenches hard around their fingers, a fresh gush of slick coating their knuckles.

Jake’s eyes widen in the front seat. “Fuck—did you just—”

“I said,” Sunghoon repeats, slower, darker, each syllable deliberate, “full until it takes. Until this perfect little cunt is swollen and leaking and carrying exactly what we give it.”

Heeseung’s free hand slides up to cradle the front of your throat, not squeezing, simply holding, thumb resting over your racing pulse. “You like that thought, don’t you?” he asks softly, lips brushing the sensitive skin behind your ear. “All four of us pumping you full, one right after the other. No pulling out. No wasting a single drop. Just letting it stay deep until your body has no choice but to keep it.”

You nod, frantic, tears already gathering at the corners of your eyes because the fantasy is suddenly too vivid, too real, too close to everything your body has been silently begging for.

Jay’s fingers crook harder, pressing ruthlessly against that spot that makes your vision blur. “Use your words.” 

“I want it,” you gasp, voice cracking. “Want you to, to breed me. Fill me until I can’t take any more. Until it’s all inside me. Please—”

A chorus of low, guttural groans fills the car. Heeseung lifts you just high enough to shove his jeans and briefs down his thighs. His cock springs free, thick, flushed dark, already leaking at the tip. He doesn’t tease. He simply guides you down onto him in one long, controlled descent, stretching you open around his length until your ass meets his hips and he’s buried to the hilt.

You cry out, head falling back against his shoulder, nails digging into his forearms.

“That’s it,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Take every inch. Take every fucking drop I’m about to give you.” He begins to move, deep, rolling thrusts that grind the head of his cock against your cervix with punishing precision. Jay’s hand stays between your legs, fingers circling your clit in tight, relentless loops while Heeseung fucks up into you with measured force.

Sunghoon has already freed himself completely, long, elegant fingers wrapped around his shaft, stroking slowly, eyes never leaving the place where Heeseung disappears inside you over and over. “My turn comes next,” he says, voice low and certain. “I’m going to add to it. Make sure nothing escapes.”

Jake’s hand is inside his own pants now, stroking himself in perfect time with Heeseung’s rhythm, breath coming in short, ragged pants. “Look at her,” he mutters, almost reverent. “So fucking desperate to be filled. Greedy little thing.”

Heeseung’s pace builds, hips snapping up harder, faster, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the car. “I’m going to come inside you,” he warns, voice strained. “Going to flood this tight cunt until it’s overflowing. You ready for it?”

“Yes—please—Heeseung—”

He buries himself as deep as possible and comes with a long, broken groan, hot, thick pulses painting your walls, filling you so completely you feel the pressure build behind your navel. Even as you clench down hard, trying to keep it all in, the excess begins to leak out around his base, coating his balls and dripping onto the leather.

He doesn’t pull out. He simply holds you there, still hard, still buried deep, while Jay shifts.

Jay moves to kneel on the seat beside you, one knee braced against the cushion. He nudges Heeseung’s softening length aside just enough to press his own cock against your already-stretched entrance. The stretch is immediate, two thick cocks forcing their way inside the same slick channel, rubbing against each other through the thin barrier of your walls. You scream, muffled against Heeseung’s shoulder, body shaking violently.

Jay fucks into you with short, brutal thrusts, the friction almost unbearable. “This pussy is going to take all of us tonight,” he growls, voice rough with possession. “Going to be so full of cum you’ll feel it moving inside you every time you breathe.”

Sunghoon reaches over, fingers finding your clit again, pinching, rolling, tugging, pushing you higher and higher while Jay pounds relentlessly.

The orgasm crashes through you without warning, sharp, blinding, walls spasming so violently around both cocks that Jay swears under his breath. His hips stutter, then slam forward one last time as he comes, hot spurts mixing with Heeseung’s release until you’re overflowing, thick rivulets running down your thighs and soaking the seat beneath you.

Sunghoon doesn’t give you time to recover.

He yanks you off both of them, strong hands manhandling you onto all fours across the wide back seat, ass presented high, face pressed into Heeseung’s lap. He lines up and drives in with one punishing thrust, burying himself to the hilt in a single motion that forces the air from your lungs.

“This cunt is getting bred tonight,” he snarls, voice low and dangerous. “I’m going to pump you so full you’ll be leaking for days. Every step you take tomorrow, you’ll feel us still inside you.”

He fucks like it’s a claiming, like he needs to imprint himself deeper than the others. One hand fists your hair, yanking your head back until your spine arches sharply. The car rocks with the force of his thrusts.

Jake climbs over the center console into the back, kneeling in front of your face. He guides his cock to your lips. You open for him immediately, taking him deep, sucking with sloppy, desperate hunger while Sunghoon rails you from behind.

Sunghoon comes with a guttural sound, hips locked flush against your ass, flooding you with another hot load until it spills out around his base and runs in sticky trails down your inner thighs.

Jake pulls free from your mouth, strokes himself twice, and spills across your lower back in thick, warm ropes, marking your skin. They rotate again, Heeseung sliding back in, then Jay, then Sunghoon, each one adding more, fucking it deeper, pushing it against your cervix with every thrust until you’re trembling, sobbing, body overwhelmed and exquisitely full.

When the final round ends, Sunghoon pulling out with a wet, filthy sound, a fresh gush of cum following, your legs give out completely. You collapse forward onto Heeseung’s chest, shaking, panting, utterly spent.

Jay reaches into the center console and withdraws a small black velvet pouch. Inside are three plugs, smooth black silicone, flared bases, graduated sizes. Heeseung selects the largest, coats it generously in the creamy mess still leaking from you, then presses the blunt tip against your swollen entrance.

“Gonna keep every drop where it belongs,” he murmurs, voice soft now, almost reverent. He works the plug in slowly, watching your face the entire time, until it pops past the rim and settles deep, the weight immediate and grounding.

Jay takes the smaller one, slicks it with the same care, and presses it gently but firmly into your ass. The dual fullness is overwhelming, possessive, complete.

Sunghoon cleans between your thighs with a packet of wipes from the glovebox, slow, careful strokes that feel almost tender after everything. Then he helps you sit up, smoothing your dress back down over your hips, fingers combing gently through your tangled hair. The car falls quiet again. They surround you, Heeseung’s arms wrapped securely around your waist, Jay’s hand resting warm and steady on your thigh, Sunghoon’s fingers tracing idle patterns along your arm, Jake leaning over the seat to press close from the front. After a long stretch of silence, Jake speaks, voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it. “We don’t want anyone else,” he says simply. “Not ever. Not like this.”

Jay nods once. “You’re not just something we fuck. You’re ours. Completely. For everything.”

Sunghoon’s fingertips brush the line of your jaw, tilting your face toward him. “We thought we could keep it light. Keep some distance. Pretend it didn’t matter.” He exhales, the sound almost pained. “We were wrong.”

Heeseung’s hold tightens, lips brushing your temple. “No one else touches you. No one else fills you. No one else gets to love you the way we do.” The word, love,lands soft and heavy, undeniable. You turn your face into the warm curve of Heeseung’s neck, feel the first tear slip free, not from pain, not from overwhelm, but from the sudden, terrifying certainty that this is exactly where you want to be.

“I don’t want anyone else either,” you whisper against his skin. They exhale as one, like they’ve been waiting weeks to hear it. Jake leans farther over the seat, presses a gentle kiss to your temple. “Good.” Jay draws you closer, tucking your head beneath his chin.

Sunghoon drapes his suit jacket over your shoulders, still warm from his body, carrying his scent. Heeseung climbs over the console, settling in the driver’s seat, he glances up at you through the rear view mirror, starts the engine, and pulls out of the lot with careful precision. The drive home is quiet. The plugs shift inside you with every turn, constant, heavy reminders. Their hands stay on you, gentle now, grounding.

When you reach the apartment they carry you inside, Heeseung’s arms strong and sure, straight to the largest bed. They undress you slowly, silk peeled away, heels slipped off, every movement careful and deliberate. They clean you again, warm washcloths, soft touches that linger.

Then they slide into bed around you, skin on skin, bodies fitting together like they were made for it. Heeseung at your front, chest pressed to yours, one leg thrown possessively over your hip. Jay at your back, arm wrapped securely around your waist, lips brushing your shoulder. Sunghoon curled lower, head resting on your thigh, long fingers tracing soothing circles. Jake pressed to your side, fingers laced tightly with yours.

No words. Just the slow, even rhythm of their breathing syncing with yours. Until the plugs feel less like possession and more like quiet promise. Until sleep finally claims you, safe, full, irrevocably claimed. Your dreams aren’t about running. They’re about staying.

perm taglist:

@hellomynameis-jessica @svvtvenom @saeivra @chaebbys @wonswrl @rianzysworld @bxldak @liloaeu @seungsoftly @enstarzzi @slut4heespam @freakseung2001 @strawberrykkkl @hoonsocks @rikifishh @onlynkfans @gardenwonn @saccharinezennie @yjwpout @kpopishgirlie @minamores @chario1397 @astronomicalastro-blog1

[arelyvn]

ALL THE RIGHT PARTS - Y.JW

You dreaded going to the mechanic shop after messing up your car. Until you meet the extremely hot worker there, who does a whole lot more than just fix it for you.

yang jungwon x fem!reader

content warnings: smut, teasing, degrading, slut shaming, dirty talk, oral (m), unprotected sex, pussy eating, spanking, panty sniffing, car sex? (on the car..), mentions of alcohol, reader's a spoiled brat who needs to be put in her place, and Jungwons willing to, porn with a plot..let me know if I missed anything!

word count: 6k

bonus here!

As soon as he saw the Aston Martin DB9 Voltane, silver exterior, pink interior, with heavy damage in the front from most likely a rear end collision pull up, he knew exactly what kind of customer he was dealing with.

Wiping his hands on his jeans, the ones he has several pairs of, so he doesnt care if they get messy or not, he watches as you step out of the car. 

Predictable. Denim mini skirt, light pink baby doll top, hair freshly blown out, full face of makeup, and to top it off, playboy bunny heels.

He looks across the mechanic garage at Jay, who's already looking at him with a knowing eyebrow raised.

You grab your designer purse, looking around the garage, the smell of oil, and metal lingering in the air. You curse your father for making you do this by yourself. 

Watching as none of the workers here make any move to come forward and help you, you scoff. Typical of these low lifes.

“Does anyone actually work here?” You say, attitude leaking from your voice

He shakes his head stifling a laugh before making his way to you from across the garage.

You watch as a man, probably around your age approaches you, immediately noting how handsome he is, dark hair, defined features, cat like eyes that draw you in.

“How can we help you today?” He asks, tone calm, collected.

“Well clearly the bumper’s fucked up.” You say, hand signaling to the front of your car

His eyebrows raise slightly at your straight foward attitude.

“Yeah, I can see that.” His eyes drop to your tits for a split second, how could he not when they're practically spilling out of your little top

“So I need you to like, fix it” You say like its the most obvious thing, which it clearly is.

He walks around to the front, crouching to look closer at the damage, you watch his face

“yikes..” He says through his teeth, making a slight panic bubble in your chest

“What?” You ask, urgently needing an answer

“This baby’s gonna need some work that's for sure.” He stands up, walking around the car to check for any more damage

“Sensors are definitely damaged, we’re gonna have to order a new bumper, for this specific car it could be hard to find one. You might need a new engine too.” He looks at you, reaching into the front seat, finger hovering over the hood button “May I?” you nod

He pops the hood before going back around to look at the engine, you watch as another man comes to look at it, he must also work here. “Shit– V12 too, that's gonna cost a fortune to fix” The third party adds.

“Since it uses aluminum body panels, it's going to be harder to fix than steel.” The first one says, hand rubbing his jaw in thought, you look at them confused as ever because you don't know what the hell they are saying.

“I don't even know what that means. Can you fix it or not?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest, completely oblivious to the way you're pushing your tits up more, and to the way both of their gazes drop to look at them.

“Yeah, I can fix it. But it's not gonna be cheap.” He says

“How much?” You ask, tone uncaring, this is just information your father needs to know anyway.

“It's not definitely not minor damage, parts are probably gonna have to be shipped from out of state, so maybe around 20-25 grand?” He estimates in his head

You don't bat an eye, “How long will it take then?” You ask impatiently 

“Well it sure as hell isn't going to be ready tomorrow, I'm thinking 3-5 weeks.” He says calmly

“That's like almost a month!” practically shouting at him

“Like I said, parts from out of state.” He adds, watching the way you pull out your phone, swiping frantically on it, you don't excuse yourself before walking a good 5 feet away to call your father.

He picks up on the 4th ring 

“Yes Y/n?” he says, bothered 

“Dad, they said it's going to take almost a month to fix it!” You say in your phone, completely unaware of how Jungwon and Jay can hear your conversation perfectly clear.

Typical, you have no sense of space either.

“Well that's what happens when you get your car wrecked.” he says

“But I can't survive a whole month-”

“Well you're going to have to, maybe if you weren't so careless with your speeding, and texting while driving, you wouldn't be in this situation at all.” You quiet down as he continues

“Ill have the driver pick you up, sign whatever papers they give you. You have my card right?” 

‘Yes.” You reply clipped, anger seeping in your tone

“Use it. I don't care for the cost” He adds, you hear the sound of papers shuffling in the back, knowing that the reason for his straight forward attitude is because he's at his office. 

“Fine.” 

“And y/n?”, "Don't be rude.” He adds before hanging up the phone, you bring it down to look at the screen, scoffing before shoving it in your bag and walking back towards the annoyingly hot workers.

They are both looking at your engine when you walk back towards them, you watch the first one look up, before he tells the other one to grab the papers.

He comes back with a clip board and hands it to you with a pen, you scan it, looking at the first box, ‘Mechanic Name’, you look up at him

"What's your name?” tone bored

“Jungwon.” He says, you repeat the name in your head. Leaning against the side of your car to fill out the rest of the form, rolling your eyes as you check off the boxes for the reasoning of your visit. The other worker is already back working on one of the other cars.

You hand him the clipboard without a word, watching his eyes skim over it before he lets a smirk show, what the fuck is he smirking at.

“What?” You ask rudely, making him stifle a laugh. 

“Nothin’ I just knew it’d be a rear end.” He says, pulling out a business card from his pocket

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Your nostrils flaring at the way he’s speaking to you.

“Just means girls like you are predictable.” He watches your face, ignoring the glare you’re giving him before continuing “Let me guess, you were on your phone”

You open your mouth to speak, to defend yourself but close it, because that's the exact reason why. He grins at that, knowing he’s right.

“Right. I'm gonna see exactly what she’s gonna need, and I'll message you the exact cost so you can come back and pay.” He says, handing you his business card

You take it reluctantly, hating the fact that you actually have to come back here again. You look down at the way his hand is still held out, looking down at the oil stained flesh in disgust before glancing up at his ridiculously perfect face

“What? Do you want me to hold your hand or something?” 

He chuckles lightly, “I need the car keys, princess.” You hide your embarrassment, obviously he needs the keys. You lean into your car, bending enough that your mini skirt rises slightly higher than necessary, revealing the pink lace panties from Victoria's Secret's spring collection, he ignores the way his cock jumps at the sight.

You hand him the keys, he looks down at them, resisting the urge to laugh at your key chains, the mini chanel heel, to the pink fluffy pom pom ball, before bring them down, finger hooking around the key ring

“kay’ so is that all?” You ask impatiently, kitten heel tapping on the ground lightly, “For now.” He says, shamelessly dropping his eyes to your glossy lips before turning around and walking back to his tool table.

You roll your eyes, making sure you grabbed everything out of your car before walking out of the garage, the faint smell of oil sticking to you. Yeah you're taking a long shower when you get home. 

“Y’know, you could've just got her card on file” Jay mutters, walking over to him

“Whats the fun in that?” Jungwon says, looking at the papers you signed, y/n. Pretty name.

-

People often referred to you as the ‘spoiled daddy’s girl’ type, to be fair you didn't deny it. Your father did spoil you rotten, after all he was one of the wealthiest men in the country. Obviously you took advantage of it, from the designer clothes, and bags, your whole closet screamed it. Your friends were rich too, naturally. You didn't want to surround yourself with people who leech off your money.

It had been three days since you saw your car, three days since you saw that sexy ass mechanic.

So what if you wore this outfit just for this specific occasion, you weren't completely clueless. You could tell when a man knew how to fuck, simply by his attitude, and Jungwon was screaming big dick energy.

You reapply your shiny lipgloss on your lips, as your driver pulls up to the shop. Looking down at your outfit, from the tight denim shorts to the white baby tee, you purposely didn't put a bra on with.

You smile sweetly at your driver before stepping out, your dior bag in one hand, and strawberry beverage in the other before walking in the shop.

You look around the shop trying to spot Jungwon, he had messaged you that he was able to find all the parts, and needed to double check with you to confirm the payment.

You don't like when people make you wait either. 

“God, this place is fucking slow.” You say before walking to your car, you pause when you him stand up from working on the engine of your car

“Sorry to keep you waiting princess” He says, putting the wrench in his hand down, dusting his hands off and standing up, he’s wearing a white tank top. Biceps, those biceps are all you can think about right now.

He runs his hand through his hair, pushing the messy strands back before walking past you. You try not to act shocked when he doesn’t even glance at your outfit– guy’s would fucking kill to see you in this. 

You hesitate a beat before following him to what you're guessing is some kind of break room..looking around from the desk, to the couch, to the ash tray sitting on the table in the center.

“Is this like a man cave or something?” You ask, stepping in the room like the floor would burn you, he lets out a low chuckle before sitting down at his desk, and pulling up the website for you to pay. 

You look down at his concentrated face before leaning over his shoulder to get a better look at it, slightly brushing your tits on the side of his face. He freezes for a split second before speaking without looking at you. “I need your card.” 

Standing up straight you reach in your purse pulling out your fathers black card and handing it to him. He scoffs, typing the numbers in “Daddy’s money huh?” He says, voice low before handing it back to you.

You roll your eyes, but you don't deny it either.

“Alright that's all I need from you.” He says, standing up and going back out to the main garage, passing Jay as he works on the engine for another customer. 

You watch him walk away, tossing your finished beverage in his office trashcan "That's all?” You say approaching him again.

“What do you mean ‘thats all’?” He turns to look at you

“You came here for somethin’ else princess?” Using that nickname again. 

He lets his eyes fall to your body, he knew you weren't wearing a bra the second he saw you. Not to mention those tiny shorts that don't leave shit to the imagination.

You must be fucking desperate to shown up looking like that here.

“No–I just thought” You huff out a frustrated breath, before pulling out your phone to text your driver to come back. 

He looks over your shoulder, no sign of Jay. He probably went to the office to smoke anyway.

“Thought what?” He watches the way you shove your phone in your bag, irritation on your features, even though he knows exactly what you thought. Plenty of girls think the same thing.

When you cross your arms over your chest like a spoiled brat he chuckles. “Thought I’d want you just cause’ you show up looking like a slut?” 

Your face switches from irritation to straight up anger “Fuck you-” 

“Yeah I'm sure you’d want that huh?” He smirks, not missing the way your nipples harden under his stare

You look past his shoulder to see the familiar black SUV pull up before looking back at him in his stupid tank top that shows off his stupidly big biceps.

You know what, fine. You're not wasting any more time on this asshole. 

“Dont scratch my car.” You say before walking out, he watches the way your hips sway, your ass begging to be let out of those tight shorts, pushing his tongue against his cheek before getting back to work on your car.

-

“You have got to be kidding me.” It had been a week since you last saw him. Yet here he is, at your favorite club..dancing.

You look at the girl he’s dancing with, the way she slides her hand under his shirt–of course he has fucking abs.

You're pulled from your thoughts when your friend taps your shoulder “Girl, what's going on?” 

“What? Nothing, I just need a drink. Bad.” You walk to the bar, flashing a smile that has the bartender immediately catering to you. 

You can't help but let your eyes stray back to the dance floor, to see Jungwon's hands on that bitches waist, smiling against her ear. You try to ignore the ting of jealousy you feel, what does she have that you don't?

After downing whatever your friend ordered for the both of you, and something more, you turn to face her “I wanna dance” you say, dragging her on the dance floor with you

You don't miss the look of recognition that passes along his face when he sees you walking towards the dance floor, the surprise making you grin.

Took less then 3 minutes to feel a pair of strong hands on your waist, you recognize the rough look of them immediately.

“Got bored of that little whore?” You say, purposely grinding your ass back against him

He chuckles against your ear, “Jealous?”

You scoff at that, which makes him tighten his hands on your waist, for a mechanic he sure can move his hips, hitting every beat with each roll against your body 

“You wanted it to be you huh?” he whispers, voice low

“Why would I voluntarily want to grind against your small dick?” you snap, earning a low chuckle from him

“Small?” He says turning you around to face him “Princess, I promise you nothing about my dick is small.” 

“Yeah?” You say, brow raised, looking up and down his form like he was your next Chanel purchase, “Prove it.” 

He smirks looking down then looking back up at your face, “You asked for it.” He rests his hand on your lower back before leading you two out of the club, you look at him curiously before he drags you into an empty alley, you can still hear the music from out here.

“What? Are you gonna fuck me here?” Your face shows irritation. Even though your heart is nearly beating out of your chest.

“No.” He watches your face, stepping closer till your faces are less than an inch apart, the rough brick of the club building digging into your head.

He trails his lips along your neck, breathing your scent in. You can't help the shivers that go down your spine, and straight to your core at the attention

He presses his hardening cock against your thigh, your breath slightly hitches at the contact

“You feel that?” He whispers against your neck

“What’s that, like 2 inches?” still not letting go of your bitchy attitude.

He chuckles low, but it's not jokingly, it's dangerous, knowing.

“Get on your knees, brat.” you hesitate a second before lowering yourself on the hard concrete. He almost could laugh at how quickly you listen

“Look at you, spoiled rich girl on her knees.” He looks down at you, the way your face is asking for specific instructions

“Go on.”

You hate that your hands are shaking when you lift them to unbuckle his belt, your tongue darting out to lick your lips before you look up at him, he nods, watching as you pull down his jeans and boxers in one go.

You nearly gasp at the way his thick, flushed cock springs out, slapping his abdomen with how long it is. Definitely not 2 inches. 

“You really are a slut huh? On the ground in the middle of some alley, just to suck dick.” He caresses the side of your face, in such a gentle way you would think he’s comforting you, his thumb swipes over your bottom lip urging you to open your mouth

You stick out your tongue for him, letting him stick his thumb down your throat, closing your lips around it, he pushes it in farther earning a small gag from you

“Oh sweetheart, if you can't handle this, how will you take my cock?” He says condensendly, pulling his thumb out of your mouth and wiping it on the side of your face.

His eyebrows raise slightly when you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, and bring him closer to your mouth before wrapping your lips around the tip, the taste of his pre cum coating your tongue. He lets out a groan at how warm your mouth is, his hand coming down to grip your hair in his hand.

“Suck it like the slut you are.” His mouth hangs open slightly as he looks down at you

You mumble around his dick before taking more of him in your mouth, curling your toes in your heels to not gag, because then you would be proving his exact point.

Closing your eyes to concentrate, you take him slightly deeper, you whine when you see he’s not even fully in your mouth, making him chuckle at your desperate state.

“Let me help you out, yeah?” he says before gripping the back of your head harder and thrusting his cock into your mouth further, till your nose kisses his pelvis, he lets the most guttural groan at the way your throat convulses around his length, his other hand coming up to steady himself on the brick wall behind you.

You brace your hands on his thighs, gagging around his cock, before he pulls it out of your mouth, looking down at the way your saliva coats it, “Who’s small now huh?” He doesn't give you time to reply before shoving himself back in your mouth, biting his lip at the way you attempt to adjust to the length. 

You look up at him, the way his head is thrown back, the slight shine of his sweat coating his neck, before moving your hand down to cup his balls in your hand, the sound he lets out is fucking insane. 

“F-fuck–yeah just like that” He breathes out, watching the way you sloppily take him in your mouth, You swirl your tongue around the base, before sucking on the head of his cock sharply, massaging his heavy balls in your hand, when his grip on your hair loosens slightly, you know hes about to come.

“Can you s..swallow like a good girl for me?” He says through a moan, the vibration that comes from your mouth is your answer, he brings his hand down from the wall, gripping the back of your head with both his hands, before pushing himself deep in your throat, making you gag as he spills his warm load into you. He tries to stifle how loud he is, but fails miserably, he looks down at you, pulling his cock out of your mouth slowly, watching the way you swallow his come.

“Fuck that was hot.” He lets go of your hair, admiring the fucked out look on your face

“Should’ve came on your face though.” He says, stepping back, tucking himself in his pants and fixing his belt. 

You stand up wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, fixing the way your mini dress slid up your thighs

“That's all?” you ask, watching him finish buckling his belt before looking at you

He steps closer until your back hits the wall, lips ghosting over yours, you close your eyes slightly, waiting for the kiss, he smirks at that.

“I still have a car to work on sweetheart.” He says slyly, pulling back, not sparing you a glance before he walks out of the alley way. Leaving you, confused, and absolutely soaked. And that just won't do. 

-

You've been told countless times before that you have no shame, but you say it's just because you're bold. You know what you want, and you'll get it no matter what.

Which is exactly why you went back to the mechanic shop, claiming you left something in your car and needed it urgently. When you really just wanted to slip a little something into the center console, and you did just that.

“Jungwon” You watch as he works on your car's engine, sleeves rolled up, hair slick with sweat due to the spike in temperature today.

“Princess.” He replies back, casually. Like this is normal

“I think there's something wrong inside the car, can you look at it?” You ask sweetly, feigning innocence as he looks into the car, eyebrow raised

The vibration of your phone takes your attention, your drivers here. “You’ll know when you find it” You offer that smile that makes men go weak in their knees before walking out of the garage.

He watches you walk away, confusion etched on his face before looking in the cup holder, the second he opens the center console he feels the heat rush to his dick. His fingers wrap around the delicate lace.

He couldn't help but bring them to his nose throughout the day, just to inhale your scent, he swears he could get high off it.

Fine then. If you want to offer yourself on a golden platter to him, then he’s going to take it.

-

9:34

Jungwon: Your cars ready

You: Okay?

He chuckles down at his phone, already sensing your attitude through the damn screen

Jungwon: So, you can pick it up

You: Isn’t it a little late for me to come

Jungwon: Come get your car y/n.

You cant help the small laugh the slips past your lips at the message

You: Fine.

Yes, you purposely aren't wearing panties under your mini skirt, because if you're right, then you're not going to need them. 

The main garage doors of the shop are closed, so you opt for the regular one, the lights are slightly dimmer then usual, but you also haven't been here at night before. You pass by the other cars in the garage, the silence being odd for a place like this, except for the sound of your heels clicking on the ground with every step you take to your car.

Its completely fixed. The bumper is brand new, it honestly looks how it did when your father first bought you it.

You walk around the front of the car to take a closer look, when something solid, No. Someone solid presses against you, a gasp slips past your lips at the contact

“Can’t believe you actually came princess” He says, smiling against the back of your ear, his breath on your skin making you shiver

“You said the car was ready, so obviously I did.” You roll your eyes, even though he cant see it. But he senses it.

His hand trails down your body, resting on your lower stomach “Is that why you're not wearing any panties?” He asks, voice low, a rasp in it you recognize from the alley

“Coming in here with your pussy out. Like a slut. You're lucky it's only me here tonight." He brings his hands back up, cupping your tits in his hand

The filthy words he’s saying only making you all the more wet. You can feel the slick dripping on your inner thigh

A breathy sound slips past your slips as he kneads the flesh in his hands over your tank top “I knew they’d feel like this too” He pulls your tank top neckline down so he can really feel you, the way it slightly pushes your tits up more makes his dick harden in his jeans. “So fuckin’ soft” He knips at your ear before pinching your nipples with his fingers, you whimper at the touch

“Aw, so sensitive already?” He smirks, rutting his hips against your ass, making you have to brace one of your hands on the hood of your car

“Just..F-fuck me already” You say through a breathy moan as he bounces your tits in his hands

He laughs at that, actually fucking laughs. Nothing is funny when you’re in this state of desperation, in need of being filled so badly.

“God, you're actually so desperate it's embarrassing” He says, before pushing you down against the hood of your car, earning a gasp that sounded a whole lot like a moan from you.

He just looks down at you for a second, spoiled rich girl bent over your own fucking car, at his mercy. “Are you just gonna stand there-” You don't even get to finish your sentence when he yanks your skirt down your legs, the air hitting your pussy immediately

You spread your legs the best you can, just to show off for him. “Holy shit, it looks like you fucking pissed yourself” He drags a finger through your folds, collected the slick on his fingers, making you moan into the cold steel of your car

“I knew you’d be this wet, could smell it the second you walked in.” he says, plaming your ass in his hand, making your body jolt when you feel a sharp slap “The fuck-” You start but immeditly shut up when he pinches your clit inbetween his fingers

“Got even more wet from that huh? You like this shit.” He chuckles low before landing another sharp slap to your ass, the sound echoing in the garage

He soothes the burn with his hand, you look behind you, straining your neck when you see him get on his knees behind you, he’s not even looking at your face, his gaze is right on the way your hole clenches around nothing

He spreads your ass just to get a better look, you push yourself back against his face slightly “Stop being greedy.” He says, the tone in his voice asserting his authority, how much power he has in this right now.

You dont have time to come up with a bratty reply when he licks a strip up your pussy, collecting your juices on his tounge “knew you’d taste this fucking good too” He mutters into your pussy before burying his nose in your folds, absolutely inhaling your scent, his dick throbbing in his pants. “Oh my–fuck..” You breathe the words out at the feeling of his nose aligning perfectly. 

He smiles against your pussy before plunging his tongue in your hole making your hands attempt to claw at the hard surface beneath you, “Jungwon-!” You yell out, when his thumb comes up to rub small circles on your clit

He flicks his tongue against you, enjoying the way you squirm

“Want you to come like this” He mumbles into your cunt, fucking his tounge in and out of you at a criminally fast speed

You’re a moaning mess against the car, his name on your lips everytime you’re able to speak.

“m’ gonna come–” You breathe out as his finger speeds up its teasing on your sensitive bud, your juices are dripping on his chin, he sucks whatever you give him, the tight pressure making your legs tremble

If you weren’t bent over this car right now you’d definitely collapse.

You cry out when his tongue hits deep inside you, flicking in your pussy as you come on his face, he presses his thumb against your clit as he licks everything, taking his mouth off your cunt with a pop. 

You’re slouched against the car, knees weak trying to comprehend what the fuck just happened.

He stands up, licking his lips, not giving you any time to react before he flips you onto your back, “No thank you?” He tilts his head to the side slightly, studying your face

You look at him like he has two heads, even when you’re spread infront of him like his next meal, you still have a fucking attitude.

“Oh, but you want me to fuck you right?” He scoffs, before stepping closer to you, fitting right between your legs.

If he just presses against you more, you'll feel the hard bulge in his pants that you can see so clearly right now.

You nod at his question

“You’re so fucking spoiled.” He says before leaning down against you, rocking his hips into you, letting his clothed dick grind on your pussy

You whine at the feeling. He presses small kisses to your neck, trailing up your jaw, he watches your face, the way your eyebrows furrow, like it’s killing you that he’s not inside you right now.

He doesnt think before pressing his lips to yours, Its not sweet, or loving, its fucking unhinged.

You immediately let him in, arms coming up to wrap around his neck to pull him closer, his chest brushing against your hardened nipples, when his hand comes up to twist them in his fingers you moan into his mouth. “Fuck me Jungwon- please” you cry out desperately making him smile

“Yeah? Spoiled brat wants to be fucked on her fancy car?” He looks down at you as you nod frantically

“Words or else you're not getting shit.” He stands up straight, sliding off his shirt with practiced ease before unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down, along with his boxers.

You watch as his cock hits his abdomen, the tip flushed red, you practically drool at the sight of it, at the familiar memory of sucking him off , a memory that has replayed every night since.

“Yes, I want you to fuck me, right here—please” Your face mimicks a pout that has him bringing his hand down to stroke himself in his hand 

“Like the slut you are?” He presses, wanting to hear you say more

“Only for you” You say, biting your lip at the way he squeezes his length in his hand

You watch him line the head of his cock with your hole,coating his dick in your arousal from earlier, and the new wetness thats fomed since, you’re so fucking easy to get wet its insane.

He brings his hand to hold down your hips, to anchor himself before he slides into your pussy, he watches as you squirm, trying to adjust to his cock, his mouth hangs open as he bottoms out,

“You’re so tight holy shit-” He breathes out, doing small movements with his hips to get you to adjust better

You can't even think right now with the way he’s stuffing you so full. He pulls out slowly before stamming back into you, watching the way your tits bounce at the movement.

“mmm..faster “ You say through a moan, he thrusts into you slow, teasing, even if it is taking everything in him to not absolutely drill into your tight cunt.

You let out a frustrated sound, that has his eyes leaving where you two connect, and up to your face, He thrusts into you harder, just see your tits bounce, before he brings his hand up from your hip to squeeze one in his hand. “You want me to go faster?” He asks, voice rough, strained.

“Yes–fuck-” You nearly scream when he delivers a harsh slap to your tit, the sting making you arch your back off the car, He smirks down at you, as the flesh turns a light shade of pink

“Use your manners.” He smooths over the flesh with his hand, fingers grazing lightly over your nipple

“Please..faster Jungwon–please.” You whine out, thats all it takes before hes lifting your leg to rest on his shoulder and ruthlessly pounding into you.

You cant even keep your eyes open as he fucks into you, the only sound being the ones coming from both of your mouths, and your wet pussy squelching around his cock as his balls slap your ass over and over again.

He watches the tears that swell in your eyes “Are you fucking crying?” He teases, thumb coming up to swipe the tear threatening to fall.

He feels the way your hole flutters around his cock, “S-shit princess” He groans out, leaning down to take you in his mouth, you immediately kiss him back

he swallows the moans you let out, letting you wrap your legs around his hips to pull him imposisbly closer

“I-im gonna come–fuck-” You manage to say, moaning into his mouth like a damn pornstar.

“Fuck yeah, come on my cock princess” He says through desperate pants of his own, when he feels you clench down even harder he thrusts into you deeper, letting your pussy suck in his cock as you reach your high, the feeling making him shoot his warm load inside of you, the sounds that leave both your mouths completing it.

His head is buried in the crook of your neck, you feel him start to soften inside you, a major part of you proud of yourself for making him come.

“That was–fuck, you’re perfect.” He whispers, pulling out slowly, the sensitivetly making you wince slightly, using his hands to help him get up, he looks down at you, the fucked out expression on your face before grabbing his jeans and putting them on, you watch him, before moving to get up but he stops you “What are you doing?” he looks at you like you're crazy “I- I was going to leave..” You say sitting up

“No you’re not.” Is all he says before picking up his shirt and using it to clean you “What-” 

“Im not a complete asshole princess.” He mutters, fixing your tank top and grabbing your skirt from the ground

“Plus, I want you to come back.” he adds, watching you put your skirt on

“To fuck?” You ask, tucking a strand of hair behind your ears

He can't help the small smile that paints his lips, watching you act like this, so clueless.

“And incase you rear end someone else.” he shrugs, watching the way your face instantly changes to irritation

“You fucking-” he pulls you to him, shutting you up with a hard kiss against your lips before pulling back

“Dont finish that sentence, because im perfectly fine with fucking you dumb again.” He warns, tone serious

That familiar playful look on your face tells him everything he needs to know, as you finish what you were saying.

-

Yesyesyes freaky won give him to me NOW

Okay hope you enjoyed <3

[jaysbaefie]

AITA? | psh

synopsis: in which you post about the most insufferable guy in your class on an AITA thread, only to find someone in the comments defending him a little too passionately.

genre: enemies to lovers??

pairing: insufferable!sunghoon x menace!reader

warnings: sexual tension, so many gawddamn arguments, some eye fucking from sunghoon’s behalf, lowkey bratty!reader, dom!hoon, semi-public sex, washroom sex, spitting, choking, oral (m rec.), fingering, biting, mirror sex, so much degrading, begging, spanking, slapping, teasing, unprotected p in v (don’t do it…), creampie, light cum play…i think that’s it…

wc: 13k

a/n: i love me some enemies to lovers i feel ashamed 😔😋 anyways after almost 3 months ya gurl is back w anotha banger 😛😛 warning, this isn’t edited properly i did like a quick read over or 2 and ran out of patience. ill sit down months later to revise it (no i wont). as always, notes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. enjoy :p

˙𐃷˙

the literature lecture hall buzzed quietly with the usual sounds of a monday morning class—keyboard typing, coffee lids snapping shut, chairs dragging lazily across the floor.

rain streaked against the tall windows beside you, grey light spilling across rows of half-awake university students while professor choi clicked through his lecture slides at the front.

this class was your last pick and you were barely listening until the next discussion question appeared on the board.

what does meursault's emotional detachment represent?

professor choi adjusted his thick framed circle glasses.

"thoughts?"

and then, unfortunately, park sunghoon raised his hand.

you already knew this was about to piss you off. your face twisting into one of pure disgust before the man even opened his mouth.

sunghoon sat three rows ahead of you, posture relaxed, one arm slung over the back of his chair like he owned the lecture hall. he didn't even look interested in the discussion, which somehow made it more annoying whenever he spoke and everyone listened anyway.

professor choi nodded toward him."go ahead."

sunghoon spoke evenly, like a corrupt politician who was going to promise world peace. like he was delivering some groundbreaking intellectual revelation instead of absolute nonsense.

"i think the novel critiques performative emotion more than emotional detachment itself."

you narrowed your eyes immediately. all you could hear was blah blah blah meh meh meh.

sunghoon continued, his tongue jutting out to wet his lips so the bullshit he was going to spew would come out smoother.

"society condemns meursault not because he committed murder, but because he doesn't react the way people expect him to emotionally. he refuses to fake grief, guilt, remorse—"

"because he doesn't have any," you interrupted flatly.

a few heads turned instantly, students giving each other knowing looks.  sunghoon glanced over his shoulder at you.

not irritated. oh no no, worse. he was amused.

"that's an oversimplification." he clicked, leaning his head back to the front to give professor choi a lazy look that basically said 'you see what's happening here?'

"no," you said. "you're just romanticizing emotional incompetence because the author used fancy wording."

a quiet snort came from somewhere behind you causing sunghoon to turn fully in his seat now. "you think the entire point of the novel is that he's a bad person?"

"i think the point is that detachment isn't inherently profound just because a man is quiet."

that got a reaction, small and subtle. a couple students trying not to laugh, their binders going up to hide their facial expressions as professor choi gave them a warning look.

sunghoon's eyes narrowed slightly for the first time.

finally.

"you're reducing existentialism to a personality flaw."

"and you're treating basic human empathy like it's optional."

professor choi opened his mouth and closed it again. probably deciding it was safer not to interfere yet.

sunghoon rested his arm against the desk beside him. "the novel literally argues that societal expectations of emotion are artificial."

"okay, but there's a difference between rejecting social performance and acting like a disconnected freak."

sunghoon gave you a look at the last word, "interesting choice of wording."

"oh please," you scoffed. "you're acting like meursault is some misunderstood visionary when really he's just emotionally constipated."

someone coughed to hide a laugh and sunghoon's jaw ticked slightly.

barely noticeable, but you noticed. because you notice everything about park sunghoon, the good and the bad. unfortunately, more of the good which was all physical. nothing mental of course, the man had an IQ of a turnip.

arguing with park sunghoon had become a skill you'd accidentally perfected over the past two years. he always looked composed, always calm. but there were little tells and small cracks. tiny expressions that appeared when you pushed hard enough.

and right now? he was getting annoyed.

good.

"you're too emotionally reactive to engage with the text objectively," he said, his dark eyes boring into your own as if he was trying to get under your skin.

which, to be fair, he was. you knew that, and he definitely knew that.

you let out a short laugh. "and you think sounding detached makes you intelligent."

his gaze held yours for a second too long. steady and sharp. "maybe i just know how to separate emotion from analysis."

"maybe you just enjoy hearing yourself talk."

sunghoon tilted his head slightly, "you've interrupted me four times."

"because every sentence somehow gets worse."

a few quiet laughs spread through the room again. you saw professor choi pinch the bridge of his nose from the corner of your eye.

sunghoon looked entirely unbothered by the class watching. if anything, he looked more focused now.

like he enjoyed this, he enjoyed the attention he was receiving. the perfect spotlight to argue with a classmate. which made you irrationally angrier. "you're intentionally ignoring nuance."

"and you're intentionally making this deeper than it actually is."

"literature is supposed to be analyzed deeply."

"not every quiet man with a god complex is philosophically revolutionary, sunghoon."

that one landed, hard. his brows lifted slightly and the room went quieter. you could practically feel everyone pretending not to listen now.

sunghoon leaned back slowly in his chair. still staring at you, not daring to break eye contact.

"you know," he said lightly, "for someone who claims i'm insufferable, you spend an impressive amount of time thinking about my opinions."

your stomach flipped in annoyance. strictly annoyance.

"trust me," you replied sweetly, "criticizing you is not a difficult intellectual exercise."

the corner of his mouth twitched, almost a smile. which only irritated you more because why did he look entertained right now?

"you get weirdly passionate whenever i disagree with you."

"because you say insane things with unnecessary confidence."

"and yet you always argue back."

you opened your mouth immediately. "because someone has to humble you."

sunghoon's eyes flicked briefly down toward your mouth before returning to your eyes so quickly you almost thought you imagined it.

almost.

then he said quietly, "you've been trying for two years."

your heartbeat stumbled once, completely involuntary by the way. and judging by the sudden silence in the lecture hall, several other people noticed the shift too.

professor choi finally sighed loudly enough to cut through the tension.

"well," he muttered dryly, "this has certainly been more engaging than most of your discussion contributions."

a few students laughed softly.

you tore your gaze away from sunghoon first, reaching for your pen like your pulse hadn't just betrayed you for absolutely no reason.

meanwhile, across the room, sunghoon leaned back in his chair again.

looking entirely too pleased with himself.

˙𐃷˙

by the time professor choi dismissed the class, the atmosphere in the lecture hall felt weirdly charged.

like everyone had just witnessed something they definitely shouldn't have.

chairs scraped against the floor as students packed up their bags, conversations immediately erupting around the room.

you shoved your laptop into your tote aggressively, muttering curses about the boy who shall not be named.

mostly because you could still feel park sunghoon's smug expression somewhere in your peripheral vision.

you hated him and his stupid fucking beautiful face.

the worst part was that he never even looked genuinely angry during your arguments. no matter how heated things got, sunghoon always stayed calm—relaxed posture, steady voice, slightly amused expression like he was watching you self-destruct for entertainment.

it was infuriating.

sunoo appeared beside your desk, slinging his bag over one shoulder. "you know," he said casually, "that was kind of the highlight of my week."

you glared at your so called best friend, "you're sick."

"no seriously," sunoo grinned. "when you called him emotionally constipated i almost started clapping."

you huffed, standing up. "he deserved worse." together, you and sunoo started toward the lecture hall doors with the crowd of students funneling out into the hallway.

except—someone was standing near the exit.

waiting, wearing a black hoodie. arms crossed loosely.

park sunghoon.

of course he was, because the argument that had erupted during class just wasn't enough for this troll doll. your steps slowed instinctively and sunoo noticed immediately, his smile widened, ear to ear.

fucking traitor.

sunghoon's eyes found yours through the crowd almost instantly. calm as ever and annoyingly unreadable.

then, as you got closer, he pushed himself off the wall.

you already knew he was about to say something irritating, you could feel it.

sunghoon stepped aside just enough to let other students pass before leaning slightly closer toward you.

close enough that you caught the clean scent of his cologne beneath the lingering smell of coffee and rain.

"for someone who hates my opinions," he murmured quietly, "you seem obsessed with hearing them."

you stopped walking and slowly turned your head toward him. you hated how you had to crank your head up to make eye contact with him, the height difference between you two surrendering your loss.

"and for someone who claims to be emotionally detached," you replied sweetly, "you sure spend a lot of time trying to get my attention."

sunghoon's mouth twitched, that stupid almost-smile again. he looked down at you at with this look that you couldn't quite identify.

"see you monday." you hope one of you don't make it to monday, preferably him.

you stared at him for one long second, really stared. at his stupid face. his stupid sharp jawline. his stupid pretty mouth that constantly said the most unbearable things imaginable.

then you walked away before you committed a felony.

sunoo was already laughing beside you. "OH my god," he breathed. "you two are unbelievable."

"he's unbelievable," you snapped immediately, a faint flush covering your face and neck.

sunoo hummed, clearly unconvinced. he was your best friend since elementary school, he knew exactly what this was.

the hallway buzzed with students moving between lectures while rain hammered softly against the windows lining the corridor. you shoved through the doors toward the outside courtyard, irritation simmering hotter with every passing second.

"i genuinely cannot wait until i graduate," you muttered. "the second i get my degree i'm never seeing that freak again."

sunoo snorted, looking at your pink tinted cheeks with a grin. "you still have two years left."

your eye twitched at the realization.

right.

two more years.

two more years of literature classes and discussion boards and seeing park sunghoon sitting three rows ahead of you looking annoyingly composed all the time.

you groaned dramatically. "i can't do this anymore."

sunoo bumped your shoulder lightly. "you've survived two years already."

"barely."

the more you thought about him, the angrier you got. because sunghoon was the exact type of person that's easy to hate.

too calm. too smug. too aware of how intelligent he was. and worst of all—too attractive for absolutely no reason.

everything about him irritated you.

his stupid perfect smile whenever he thought he'd won an argument. his stupidly long fingers tapping against his desk during lectures. the way his hoodies stretched across his broad shoulders.

the fact that he somehow looked composed even when everyone else looked exhausted during midterms.

it was deeply, deeply annoying.

you physically smacked yourself in the forehead.

sunoo blinked at your sudden outburst. "what was that for?"

"nothing."

sunoo narrowed his eyes. then slowly—dangerously—he smiled. "oh my god."

you frowned immediately, not liking the way he was smiling down at you. "what."

"i think you might be the issue."

you stopped walking so abruptly someone nearly walked into your shoulder. "excuse me?"

sunoo shrugged innocently. "i'm just saying."

"how the hell am i the issue?"

"you do start a lot of the arguments."

you stared at him in betrayal. "because he says ridiculous things."

"sometimes."

"all the time."

sunoo hummed thoughtfully, not agreeing, which was offensive. why is your best friend not blindly supporting you even when you're probably wrong, which you aren't, but even if you were—the fuck?

you scoffed loudly. "sunghoon is literally the one who started this whole thing."

and he had, freshman year. first semester.

he'd corrected one of your points during a class discussion with that calm, mildly condescending tone of his and something inside you had immediately gone: absolutely not.

listen you can take criticism, just not from that man specifically.

ever since then, every interaction between you had turned into some kind of competition. you couldn't help it. sunghoon always acted so composed, so polished, so annoyingly perfect that it made you want to knock him down a level, or several.

sunoo shoved his hands into his pockets. "okay but maybe if you stopped interacting with him—"

"impossible."

"you didn't even let me finish."

"because you're wrong."

sunoo laughed softly, knowing damn well that nothing he was going to say would penetrate through your thick skull. "you could just ignore him."

you looked at him like he'd suggested murder.

ignore park sunghoon? absolutely not.

that sounded suspiciously like losing. sunoo noticed your expression immediately and burst out laughing. "see? that's exactly what i mean."

you crossed your arms. "i am not the problem here."

sunoo just gave you a look. one of those deeply irritating best friend looks that implied he knew you better than you knew yourself.

which, unfortunately, he probably did.

you pulled your phone out of your pocket causing sunoo to raise a brow.

"what are you doing?"

"i'm getting unbiased opinions."

"from who?"

you opened reddit with complete confidence and sunoo immediately groaned.

"oh no."

˙𐃷˙

your dorm room was suspiciously quiet except for the aggressive tapping of your keyboard.

sunoo sat cross-legged at the end of your bed eating gummy bears straight from the bag while watching you with the exact same expression people have witnessing a public breakup.

concern mixed with entertainment.

you ignored him. because right now you were busy crafting the most objectively accurate reddit post ever written.

the glow from your laptop lit your face as you reread the title for the fifth time.

AITA for telling a guy in my class to shut up because he thinks he's always right?

perfect. concise. truthful.

you cracked your knuckles dramatically before continuing to type. sunoo snorted from the other side, picking out all the red gummies before stuffing them into his mouth.

- there's this guy in one of my university classes and he is genuinely one of the most irritating people i've ever met.

he's quiet but in a pretentious way? like he thinks being emotionally constipated makes him intelligent. he corrects EVERYONE during discussions and somehow always sounds smug even when he's technically being polite.

the worst part is that he's annoyingly good at everything. presentations? perfect. essays? perfect. participation? professor's favourite somehow.

one time i got a question wrong during class and this man literally smirked at me. SMIRKED. like a disney villain.

today we got into an argument during lecture because he was saying some pseudo intellectual nonsense and i told him to shut up because nobody cares about his superiority complex anymore.

now some people are saying i overreacted but i genuinely think he needed to be humbled.

AITA? -

you hit post.

then immediately grabbed your phone while bouncing slightly in your seat.

sunoo stared at you with mild distaste. "you look like you just launched a cyber attack."

"i'm right and soon the public will confirm it."

sunoo snorted. "you're insane."

the first comment appeared almost instantly.

you gasped dramatically. "OH MY GOD." sunoo leaned over slightly as you opened it, rolling his eyes as soon as he read the first word.

- NTA this guy sounds like if a philosophy podcast became a person. -

you slapped sunoo's arm excitedly."SEE?"

another comment appeared.

- girl stand UP. why are you letting a man who's probably named after a victorian disease humble you in public -

you folded over laughing, sunghoon was a disease alright. a disease that would rot and corrupt your brain before leading you to your own destruction.

sunoo grabbed your laptop before you dropped it off the bed. "okay that one was funny."

more comments flooded in rapidly and sunoo watched as your expression morphed into one of pure joy. like a kid who had just walked into a candy shop with an unlimited budget and no parental supervision.

- NTA he sounds insufferable. - ESH you both sound annoying but in a sexual tension way. -

you frowned, "what does that even mean?"

sunoo looked away suspiciously fast, hiding his smirk.

another one.

- i know EXACTLY the type of man you're talking about. probably wears silver jewelry and thinks eye contact is a personality trait. -

your jaw dropped. "THEY GET ME."

sunoo popped another gummy bear into his mouth, eyeing you. "or maybe you're describing every business major ever."

you ignored him because the comments were getting better by the second.

- does he perchance look like this: 🗿 -

"OH MY GOD." he totally does.

- girl he likes you. ⤷ no literally this sounds like academic enemies to lovers fanfiction. -

"okay why does everyone keep saying that," you muttered, a deep frown now etched on your face. you were beginning to not like where these comments were headed.

sunoo made a noncommittal noise. you narrowed your eyes at him briefly before scrolling again.

- i'm crying at "emotionally constipated." please cook him again. - next class hit him with "you're not beating the pretentious allegations." - ask him if he learned emotional intelligence from patrick bateman edits and sigma bro podcasts lol. -

you physically wheezed, your body folding over in laughter. sunoo shook his head slowly, watching you upvote every single comment that dissed sunghoon.

"you're enjoying this way too much."

"because i'm finally being validated."

you pointed accusingly at him. "unlike SOME people."

sunoo rolled his eyes before muttering, "whatever bitch."

another comment appeared.

- INFO: is he actually arrogant or are you just threatened because he's smarter than you? -

your smile vanished instantly. "BOOOOO."

you downvoted it immediately, sunoo burst out laughing. "you are NOT supposed to interact emotionally with the comments."

"they interacted emotionally with ME first."

you kept scrolling, feeling increasingly euphoric as strangers across the internet continued confirming what you'd known all along: park sunghoon was deeply irritating.

the comments only got more ridiculous from there.

- "he smirked at you after you got a question wrong" oh huny he wants you BAD. - this sounds less like hatred and more like unresolved yearning. - enemies to lovers ahh post. -

"unresolved yearning?" you repeated aloud in horror.

oh fuck no.

sunoo was smiling now. not laughing. no no, he was smiling.

which was somehow worse, you turned your head slowly to shoot him a glare, "what."

he shrugged. "nothing."

you narrowed your eyes suspiciously then looked back at your screen.

another comment. this one longer.

- honestly i think you're leaving out context. from your own description, it sounds like he was trying to engage in discussion normally and you took it personally because you already dislike him. -

your smile faltered slightly.

who the fuck was this? and why the fuck do they think they know the situation?

the comment continued:

- correcting people during literary discussions isn't arrogance if he's contributing meaningful analysis. also, calling someone "emotionally constipated" because they interpret a book differently than you is kind of ironic. -

you scoffed loudly. "OH BROTHER." get a load of this guy, why don't they just go and suck sunghoon's dick at this point.

sunoo leaned closer, reading the comment out loud "wait that one kinda—"

"no."

you clicked reply immediately, your fingers flying across the keyboard.

- if you defend people like this i just KNOW nobody likes you in real life. -

sunoo let out a disbelieving laugh. "you're fighting civilians now?"

"they started it."

your reply posted and within less than thirty seconds— the person responded.

- bold assumption coming from someone who wrote an entire essay about a classmate because he annoyed her. -

you froze and slowly sat up straighter. you felt your face tense in what you can only identify as pure raw anger.

sunoo noticed instantly when your face went from. mildly annoyed to baboon ass red. "what."

your eyes narrowed at the screen. something about the reply irritated you immediately. the tone. calm. slightly condescending. annoyingly articulate.

...absolutely not. no way.

you started typing again with renewed aggression. you stared at the username with pure hatred.

notniceprince02

your eye twitched, something about it already annoyed you. the reply sat there on your screen like a personal attack.

calm and smug. condescending in a weirdly articulate way that made you want to throw your laptop across the room.

sunoo leaned closer from beside you. "what happened?"

you pointed aggressively at the screen. "this person thinks i'm the problem."

sunoo made a face. "well..."

you slowly turned toward him eyes like slits and your mouth scrunched. "choose your next words carefully." sunoo immediately looked back down at his gummy bears.

fucking coward.

you cracked your fingers dramatically before typing a response.

- sorry i didn't realize his defense attorney was in the comments section. should i call you next time he starts acting like a rejected sherlock holmes adaptation? -

you hit reply with satisfaction, finally letting out the breath of anger you had taken earlier,

sunoo blinked. "you type like you're in a duel."

"because i am."

less than a minute later—another response.

- maybe people correct you often because you're wrong often. -

you gasped so loudly sunoo nearly dropped the gummy bear bag. "OH this bitch."

you didn't know who this person was but you are not the one to be fucked with like this. your fingers flew over the keyboard with new found passion.

- and maybe you defend emotionally detached weirdos online because you see yourself in him. -

reply posted and the response came back almost immediately.

- emotionally detached = calm emotional instability = writing reddit essays because a guy disagreed with you in class -

sunoo physically leaned forward now the gummy bears had been abandoned.

"okay wait," he said slowly. "this is getting good."

you ignored him, mostly because your blood pressure was rising.

- if being calm means acting like a pretentious AI generated philosophy quote then congratulations i guess. -

reply and instant response.

- if being intelligent sounds pretentious to you that might be a personal issue. -

your jaw dropped. "PERSONAL ISSUE?"

sunoo was trying not to laugh, badly. you glared at him before pushing at his shoulder hard enough to have him almost fall of your bed. unlucky for you, he managed to catch his balance and stay seated next to you with a dumb grin on his face.

"i'm sorry but they kinda cooked you there."

"whose side are you on?" fucking twink.

"the entertainment's."

traitor.

you sat up straighter on the bed, narrowing your eyes at the screen like notniceprince02 had personally wronged your entire bloodline.

- you sound exactly like the guy i'm talking about btw. same superiority complex. same "i think i'm the smartest person in every room" energy. -

the response appeared almost immediately, which somehow irritated you more. did this person have no life? fighting with strangers on the internet like a loser.

this doesn't apply to you of course.

- maybe you're just intimidated by people who challenge you intellectually. -

you stared at the screen in disbelief.

sunoo let out a quiet whistle. "they hit a nerve?"

"i'm going to hit THEM."

you typed furiously, your thumbs cramping up but you don't let weak things like this stop you.

- intellectually challenge me? please. this man raises his hand in class like he's announcing a new world order then says the most pseudo intellectual nonsense you've ever heard. -

response.

- interesting. you seem to remember his class participation very vividly. -

you froze for like half a second and then scoffed loudly.

because it's TRAUMATIZING. not because you care enough to remember, but because it's shocked itself into the crevices of your brain.

sunoo snorted while you kept going.

- he literally smirks when people get answers wrong. do you know how deeply punchable that is? -

response.

- maybe he smirks because your reactions are dramatic. -

you narrowed your eyes dangerously. this conversation, more like argument, felt more natural that you'd like to admit.

- okay now i KNOW you're him. -

sunoo's brows shot up immediately. hold on...

you pointed at the screen frantically. "LOOK AT HOW HE TYPES."

sunoo leaned closer, the two of you stared silently at the replies for a moment. then—sunoo slowly looked at you. "that actually does sound like him."

"THANK YOU." validation surged through your body instantly. you pointed aggressively at the laptop. "RIGHT? the annoying calmness? the fake intellectual wording? the superiority complex?"

sunoo tilted his head, a shit eating grin plastered on his porcelain face. "you know him disturbingly well."

"unfortunately."

another reply appeared.

- i think it's funny how much attention you pay to someone you supposedly dislike. -

you barked out a laugh, completely humorless.

- oh my god. you ARE him. -

response.

- and if i was? -

you sat there, staring. sunoo sat there too, also staring. the room suddenly felt strangely quiet as you squinted at the screen.

"why did that make me mad."

sunoo was smiling again, that knowing smile. you hated that smile.

"because you think it might actually be him."

"it's not him."

"mhm."

"it's just some annoying reddit user." another response appeared before you could keep ranting.

- for the record, if this guy really is as arrogant as you claim, why do you keep engaging with him? -

you rolled your eyes instantly.

- because someone has to humble him. -

reply.

- sounds more like obsession. -

you gasped, like actually gasped. you? obsessed with sunghoon? out of all the people in this world? fuck no.

sunoo folded over laughing. "OH MY GOD."

"OBSESSION?" you typed so aggressively the keyboard started clacking violently.

- you people see a man and woman arguing and immediately think there's romantic tension. have you considered that i simply think he's irritating and unfortunate-looking? -

sunoo looked at you, slowly. "unfortunate-looking?"

you avoided eye contact because unfortunately that part wasn't true. at all. which was deeply annoying. you hated how you couldn't get away with dissing his appearance because as much as you hate to admit it, there was nothing to pick at.

another reply.

- unfortunate-looking yet you described his facial expressions in detail. -

you froze. sunoo froze. your eyes slowly widened as you stared at sunoo who looked equally as surprised as you.

"..."

sunoo pointed at the screen. "THAT IS ABSOLUTELY HIM."

"SHUT UP."

˙𐃷˙

by the next morning, your hatred for user notniceprince02 had evolved into something genuinely concerning.

your phone had been vibrating nonstop since eight in the morning.

every. two. seconds.

ping.

ping.

PING.

another reply. another argument. another smug paragraph typed in that calm, annoyingly articulate tone that made your blood pressure spike on sight.

you sat in the student lounge with your laptop open and your phone in your hand simultaneously, responding across two devices like a woman fighting in active warfare.

sunoo sat across from you, fully invested now. having the thread opened on his laptop as he watched you type out responses like it was war.

classes? irrelevant. education? secondary.

this reddit argument had become the main event.

"you've replied to him thirty-seven times just in this past hour " sunoo said.

"thirty-eight." you hit send aggressively and sunoo blinked in pure shock.

"that was immediate."

"because he's wrong." your phone buzzed again and you looked down instantly.

- notniceprince02: "you keep proving my point by reacting emotionally to everything." -

you scoffed so loudly the two people at the next table glanced over.

"OH my god." your fingers slammed against the keyboard.

- sorry i forgot being emotionally unavailable is apparently a personality trait now. -

send.

and would you look at that, a response within seconds.

- no, but making hating one guy your entire personality definitely is. -

you stared at the screen with a scowl etched on your face. offended, deeply offended.

sunoo leaned over your shoulder to see you clutching your phone was a grip that would shatter your screen. then immediately started laughing. "okay no because why does this genuinely sound like sunghoon."

"it's NOT him."

"__."

"it's just some weird sigma male ass kisser who probably listens to podcasts hosted by divorced men."

sunoo snorted. "that sounds exactly like something you'd accuse sunghoon of."

you ignored him because your phone buzzed again—another reply.

- you seem weirdly committed to misunderstanding him. -

you rolled your eyes so hard it physically hurt. at this point you wondered how many people at the library thought something was mentally wrong with you.

- and you seem weirdly committed to defending him. is this his burner account or are you just in love with him? -

send.

sunoo nearly choked. "OH?"

"what?"

"you're spiraling."

"i'm WINNING."

sunoo pointed at your screen, a thread of reddit beef that's exceeded an appropriate limit. "this does not look like winning."

you frowned at the ongoing thread. unfortunately, it had become one of the top comments under your post. people were fully invested now with random users jumping into the argument just to spectate.

some were taking sides while others were making it worse, much worse.

- y'all are literally flirting. - this is the most enemies to lovers thing i've ever read. - somebody invite me to the wedding. - "irl academic rivals is CRAZY." -

you physically recoiled at the thought of being shipped with that garden troll of a man. "what is WRONG with people?"

sunoo looked way too entertained. "they kinda have a point."

"they absolutely do not."

another comment:

- at this point just kiss and get it over with.    ⤷ i would rather chew denim. -

you typed immediately, brows furrowed and jaw clenched. this was the last thing you had expected as an outcome when you posted on reddit.

sunoo burst out laughing. "chew denim?"

"i'm emotional."

your phone buzzed again.

- notniceprince02: "that's dramatic." -

your eye twitched as you read the message out loud. "HE KEEPS SAYING THAT." people had now physically turned on their seats to look at the two of you with curious and annoyed looks in their eyes.

sunoo pointed accusingly at you while gives others a apologetic smile.  "because you ARE dramatic." he whispered to you harshly all while motioning you to shut the fuck up.

"you're both against me."

"no," sunoo corrected. "i just think this is the funniest thing that's happened all semester."

you glared at him before standing abruptly, grabbing your phone. "i'm going to the washroom."

if sunoo wasn't going to appreciate this properly, then some girl in the stall next to you will.  sunoo hummed absently. "tell your boyfriend i said hi if he replies again."

"die."

you walked off before he could keep talking.

the hallways buzzed with students moving between lectures, conversations overlapping with the sound of footsteps and lockers shutting nearby.

your phone buzzed again and without looking up, you immediately started typing.

- no, because at this point you're defending him like you want him carnally. -

send.

you turned the corner toward the washrooms—and slammed directly into someone.

hard.

your shoulder collided with a solid chest and your phone nearly flew out of your hand.

"shit—"

steady hands caught your arms before you stumbled backward. familiar hands. long fingers curling briefly around your sleeves.

your stomach dropped instantly, because of course.

of fucking COURSE.

park sunghoon looked down at you with mild surprise, dark hair slightly messy like he'd been running his hands through it all morning. a pair of headphones rested around his neck, black hoodie sleeves pushed to his forearms.

and unfortunately—unfairly—he looked really good today.

which immediately irritated you, because how dare he have a shit personality and look good while ruining your mood by just breathing in your vicinity.

sunghoon glanced at your death grip on your phone before meeting your eyes again, a small smirk playing on his pink plush lips.

"you should probably watch where you're going." his voice was calm, low and slightly amused.

you narrowed your eyes instantly. "maybe people would move if they weren't standing in the middle of hallways like decorative statues."

one corner of his mouth lifted slightly. there it was, that stupid almost-smile. you hated that stupid almost-smile.

sunghoon's gaze flicked downward briefly. to your phone screen which was still open to reddit. your heart stopped for half a second because the thread was visible. very visible. and at the top of the screen sat a fresh notification from—notniceprince02 replied to your comment

sunghoon's eyes lingered on the notification then slowly lifted back to yours.

silence. your brain short-circuited instantly, no. absolutely not. there was no way. sunghoon looked at you for one long second before asking casually, "still fighting with strangers online?"

your entire body went still, just for a second. because there was absolutely no way—no actual way.

sunghoon stood there holding your arm loosely, thumb brushing the fabric of your sleeve while your phone screen glowed between you both like evidence in a criminal investigation.

notniceprince02 replied to your comment.

your brain was buffering. loading. malfunctioning.

sunghoon's expression remained frustratingly neutral but there was something there. something subtle: amusement.

your eyes narrowed immediately. "why are you looking at my phone?"

smooth. good recovery. yup yup.

sunghoon let go of your arm slowly, way too slowly. "hard not to when you almost tackled me with it."

you scoffed, "you were standing in my way."

"you walked directly into me."

"semantics."

sunghoon hummed quietly as his gaze flicked toward your screen again and then back to you.

"so," he said lightly, "what stranger online managed to upset you this badly?"

your grip tightened around your phone instantly. absolutely not. you were NOT about to entertain sunoo's ridiculous theory.

"nobody."

sunghoon raised a brow, "you look homicidal."

"maybe that's just your effect on people." you retorted back almost automatically. you wonder if you've ever responded to sunghoon in a normal way.

that stupid almost-smile appeared again. small and annoyingly attractive. you hated it, like actually hated it.

sunghoon tilted his head slightly. "you know," he murmured, "you get strangely defensive whenever i ask simple questions."

your stomach flipped in irritation, strictly irritation. "and you get strangely nosy for someone who acts emotionally detached all the time."

his eyes held yours for a second longer than necessary, steady and focused. like he was trying to figure something out.

the hallway around you blurred into noise and somehow you were still standing there.

too close to him, way too close.

you noticed stupid things at the worst possible times, like the faint scent of his cologne or the tiny mole near his neck. or the fact that his hair fell into his eyes slightly when he looked down at you like this.

deeply irritating.

sunghoon's gaze flicked briefly toward your mouth before returning upward so quickly you almost thought you imagined it.

almost.

"what?" you snapped immediately. you could feel a small flush cover your cheeks and neck at the thought of sunghoon sneaking glances at your lips. maybe he thought you looked really slapable right now, or really kissable. it hurt your ego to think that either one of those things were deemed acceptable to you.

his brows lifted slightly. "nothing."

liar.

you narrowed your eyes harder. "you're being weird."

"you say that every time you don't know how to respond."

your jaw dropped at his audacity. "i always know how to respond."

"mhm."

that stupid calm tone again. you wanted to bite him. which—bad wording. very bad wording.

sunghoon watched your expression shift in real time and something in his face changed slightly. like he noticed the exact moment your thoughts betrayed you.

horrifying. absolutely horrifying.

you recovered immediately, sort of. "why are you even talking to me right now?" you asked. "don't you have some freshmen discussion group to intellectually terrorize?"

sunghoon laughed quietly under his breath—actually laughed. and it caught you so off guard that you momentarily forgot to stay angry.

which made you angrier. "you're the one who ran into me."

"unfortunately."

"yet you're still standing here."

you opened your mouth then closed it. sunghoon noticed, of course he noticed. the only thing he doesn't seem to notice is his mouth opening and closing with cow noises spilling out during class.

the corner of his mouth twitched again. "that's new," he said softly.

"what is?"

"you being speechless." your face heated instantly, not because of him.

obviously.

you crossed your arms defensively. "you're unbelievably annoying."

"and yet," sunghoon said calmly, stepping slightly closer, "you keep talking to me."

your heartbeat stumbled. just once. which was unacceptable.

because now he was close enough that you could see every tiny detail in his expression—the faint curve of amusement in his eyes, the way his lips kept threatening to smile fully.

he looked way too pleased with himself. you hated that too. a group of students walked past nearby and one of them whispered: "there's no way they're not dating."

you whipped your head around instantly. "WE'RE NOT—"

sunghoon's hand suddenly landed lightly against the wall beside your head. not trapping you, but enough to make your words catch awkwardly in your throat.

his expression remained perfectly calm which somehow made the gesture worse. "you're loud when you're flustered," he said quietly.

your brain short-circuited. flustered? FLUSTERED?

you stared at him in disbelief. "i am not flustered."

sunghoon hummed, completely unconvinced as he reached into his pocket to slip out his phone. your pulse was going insane now for reasons you refused to examine.

then—your phone buzzed loudly between you both.

the notification lit up the screen and your head snapped down, unlocking your phone to see something that only made your heart drop to your gut.

- notniceprince02: "you still haven't answered my question." -

silence.

sunghoon looked down at the notification then slowly back up at you. and this time—this time he smiled properly.

small. sharp. dangerous.

your stomach dropped straight to hell. because suddenly—suddenly you knew.

oh my god.

it WAS him.

your soul briefly left your body. there was no other explanation for the horrifying full-body shutdown you experienced standing there in the middle of the hallway.

because park sunghoon was smiling at you. actually smiling. not the tiny smug almost-smirk he usually wore during arguments.

a real smile. sharp at the edges. dangerously entertained. and your phone was still glowing between you both with the notification from: notniceprince02

oh my god. OH my god.

you stared at him, sunghoon stared back. this fucker was playing with you this entire time and he had the audacity to look calm, composed and completely evil all at the same time.

your voice came out accusing immediately. "you're insane." sunghoon's smile widened slightly. which honestly should've been illegal because why did he suddenly look—no.

absolutely not.

"that's a strong reaction," he said mildly.

"you've been fighting with me online for like fourteen hours."

"thirteen, actually."

you blinked up at him, horrified.

sunghoon tilted his head slightly. "you stopped replying around three in the morning."

your jaw physically dropped. "YOU KEPT TRACK?"

"you type aggressively when you're tired."

you looked genuinely offended. "that is such a weird thing to notice."

"you notice weird things about me too."

silence. dangerous silence. because unfortunately—unfortunately he was right. and judging by the look on his face? he knew he was right too.

you recovered immediately or at least attempted to. "okay first of all," you started, pointing at him aggressively, "using a burner account to argue with me on reddit is psychotic behavior."

sunghoon crossed his arms loosely still way too relaxed. "you made an entire public post about me."

"i didn't SAY your name."

"you described me like a wanted criminal."

"because you're irritating."

"it was weirdly detailed."

your eye twitched. "you're unbelievable."

sunghoon leaned slightly closer, close enough that your stupid heart started acting weird again. "you wrote three paragraphs about my facial expressions."

heat crawled up your neck instantly. because in hindsight—mentioning the smirking might've been a mistake.

"that was for CONTEXT."

sunghoon hummed not buying it for a second. "right....right"

you hated how calm he sounded. like this entire situation entertained him more than anything else. which made sense, considering the man apparently spent his free time anonymously provoking you online.

actual freak behavior.

"and YOU," you shot back, "were defending yourself in the comments like a loser."

sunghoon's brows lifted. "i was defending myself because you compared me to a podcast for divorced men."

"because you talk like one."

"you literally accused me of wanting attention 'carnally.'" your face heated instantly, sunghoon looked way too pleased saying that out loud. "that was BEFORE i knew it was you."

"does that make it better?"

"a little."

his mouth twitched again. you wanted to throw him into traffic. respectfully.

sunghoon glanced down at your phone screen where the reddit thread was still open. hundreds of notifications flooded the post now. people were still replying, still arguing and still shipping you both for reasons you refused to acknowledge.

sunghoon read one of the comments over your shoulder, then laughed quietly. "someone said we have 'academic rivals to lovers tension.'"

you looked horrified, shooting him a quick glare before downvoting on the comment. "don't read those."

"why not?" he asked lightly. "they seem passionate about us."

"there is no 'us.'" you snapped back.

sunghoon's gaze flicked back to yours, steady—focused. "you sure?"

your stomach dropped. hard. something about the way he said it felt unfairly intentional. like he knew exactly what he was doing now. which—he probably did.

you crossed your arms tighter, defensive. "you're enjoying this way too much."

"you started it."

"you kept replying."

"so did you."

"because i don't lose arguments."

sunghoon stepped closer again, just slightly. enough that your back nearly brushed the wall behind you.

"is that what this is?" he asked softly.

you frowned. "what."

"you needing to win." his voice had gotten quieter somehow, lower and suddenly the hallway noise around you felt distant again.

students walked past constantly but it barely registered. because sunghoon was standing too close and looking at you like he'd figured something out.

you swallowed once, annoyed at yourself for even noticing. "obviously," you replied.

sunghoon watched you for another second. then, "i think you just like arguing with me."

you let out a disbelieving laugh immediately. "that is genuinely the dumbest thing you've ever said."

"is it?"

"yes."

"then why do you always look excited before you disagree with me?"

your mouth opened. closed. opened again. nothing came out. because that was—that was not the point. like fuck, you caught me i guess.

sunghoon noticed your silence instantly, of course he did. his expression shifted into something smugger and more dangerous. "there it is again."

"what."

"speechless."

you hated him, like actually hated him. especially because he looked so unfairly good right now standing there with messy dark hair and that stupid smug expression like he'd won something.

you narrowed your eyes. "you know what? maybe people only think you're smart because you say things confidently."

sunghoon leaned one shoulder casually against the wall beside you. completely cornering you now without actually touching you.

"maybe," he said calmly, "you only argue with me because i'm the only person who argues back."

your heartbeat betrayed you again. you stared at him, sunghoon stared back. then—your phone buzzed loudly again between you both.

another reddit notification, sunghoon glanced down before taking your phone into his own hands then read aloud: "'just kiss already and save us all the trouble.'"

you lunged for your phone instantly. "give me that." sunghoon lifted it out of reach easily and your eyes widened. "park sunghoon."

he looked down at you with blatant amusement. "that's the first time you've said my full name without sounding homicidal."

"i AM homicidal."

"mhm."

you reached for your phone again, sunghoon caught your wrist lightly before you could grab it. everything stopped. your breath. your thoughts. your functioning nervous system.

his fingers wrapped loosely around your wrist, warm and firm. and suddenly you became painfully aware of how close he actually was.

sunghoon looked down briefly at where he was holding you and then back at your face. his expression changed slightly, less teasing and more—dangerous.

your pulse went absolutely insane. then quietly—way too quietly—he said, "you know... you're a lot less mean when you're flustered."

your brain completely stopped functioning. like genuinely. because park sunghoon was still holding your wrist, still standing way too close, still looking at you with that horribly calm expression while your pulse was actively trying to kill you.

and the worst part? he knew. you could tell he knew. his thumb shifted slightly against your wrist and your stomach flipped so violently it made you angry.

sunghoon's eyes flicked briefly to your mouth again. then back up, slowly and deliberately.

"you know," he murmured, "the comments might be onto something."

your brows furrowed instantly. "what comments."

his mouth twitched. "'just kiss already and save us all the trouble.'"

you stared at him in disbelief. "absolutely not."

"why not?"

"because i'd rather die."

sunghoon hummed thoughtfully. "dramatic."

"you make me dramatic." that slipped out before you could stop it, the silence was thick.

sunghoon's expression shifted almost imperceptibly. something darker settling beneath the amusement. your face heated instantly. great. excellent. love that for you.

you tried pulling your wrist back but he didn't let go. not fully, he just loosened his grip slightly. enough to remind you he could let go if he wanted to, but wasn't.

"you know what i think?" he asked quietly.

"i don't care."

"i think you enjoy this."

you scoffed immediately. "arguing with you is psychologically damaging."

"yet you keep doing it."

"because someone needs to humble you."

sunghoon smiled slowly, that smile should've come with a warning label. "you've been saying that for two years, i don't think you're making much progress, __."

your stomach twisted, you hated how softly he said it. like he'd been thinking about it too, absolutely disgusting.

you crossed your arms tighter, or tried to. hard to look intimidating when he still had your wrist trapped loosely in his hand. "you're weirdly obsessed with me for someone who acts emotionally detached all the time."

sunghoon tilted his head slightly. "says the girl who wrote a public essay about me." at this point the both of you were repeating yourselves for the nth time, none of you progressing anywhere.

"because you're irritating."

"and handsome?"

you nearly choked. "WHEN did i say that?"

"you didn't have to."

you looked genuinely appalled, sunghoon laughed quietly under his breath. the sound went straight through you in the most irritating way imaginable.

you hated that too, everything about him irritated you. his stupid voice, his stupid face, his stupidly long fingers still wrapped around your wrist.

"you're insufferable."

"you like that word."

"because it applies to you constantly." you say sweetly, batting your eyelashes in the most dramatic way you could possibly pull off.

sunghoon leaned closer, close enough that your back finally brushed against the wall behind you.

you swallowed hard, annoyed. deeply annoyed.

"you know," he said softly, "for someone who claims to hate me, you stare at me a lot."

your jaw dropped. "you stare at ME."

"because you're loud."

"and you're annoying."

"yet here we are."

your heart was beating so hard you were convinced he could hear it. which was humiliating, especially because he looked entirely unaffected.

calm. steady. composed. which is what his heart monitor would read after you ran him over with your car.  you wanted to ruin that composure so badly. sunghoon's gaze dropped to your mouth again, this time slower and less subtle. your breathing hitched involuntarily and that smug bastard noticed immediately.

his eyes darkened slightly. "there it is," he murmured.

"what."

"that look."

"what look?"

sunghoon smiled faintly. "the one you get before you start losing an argument."

you pushed against his shoulder instantly, hard. or at least hard enough to make a point but sunghoon barely moved. which only irritated you more. "i never lose."

"sure."

"i'm serious."

"mhm."

you glared at him, sunghoon stared back. then quietly— way too calmly—he said, "maybe we should give people what they want."

your stomach dropped. "what."

his fingers tightened slightly around your wrist before he stepped closer again, completely boxing you in now. "the comments seem very invested in us."

"there is no 'us.'" you repeated for the nth time.

"you keep saying that."

"because it's true."

sunghoon looked at you for one long second, then his voice dropped lower, dangerously soft. "then how about we start with the kiss?"

your brain short-circuited so violently you physically stopped breathing. "excuse me?"

sunghoon's expression remained infuriatingly calm. but his eyes—his eyes looked anything but calm now. "you heard me."

heat exploded across your face instantly. "you are OUT of your mind."

"probably."

"i would never kiss you."

sunghoon leaned down slightly, close enough that his voice brushed against your skin. "you keep saying things your body language disagrees with."

your stomach flipped violently. you hated him, because he sounded so certain, so unfairly confident. you opened your mouth to argue again but footsteps echoed nearby and a group of students rounded the corner laughing loudly.

both of you glanced over instinctively, the moment broke slightly. just enough, except sunghoon didn't move away. instead, his gaze flicked briefly down the hall toward the nearby family washroom.

then back to you and your pulse spiked instantly. "sunghoon—"

before you could finish, he tugged lightly on your wrist. your breath caught as he pulled you forward down the hall.

"what are you DOING?"

sunghoon glanced back at you once, that same dangerous almost-smile pulling at his mouth.

"proving a point."

your stomach dropped straight to hell. your sneakers squeaked slightly against the floor as sunghoon pulled you down the hallway.

not fast enough to look suspicious, which somehow made it worse. his hand stayed wrapped around your wrist the entire time—warm, firm, steady—like he already knew you wouldn't actually pull away.

which was irritating, deeply irritating. "park sunghoon—"

"you say my full name a lot when you're nervous."

"i'm not nervous." he glanced back at you briefly, that smug look again.

"sure."

you swore out his entire bloodline at this moment as your heart was currently beating like you'd just sprinted across campus. sunghoon stopped outside the family washroom and pushed the door open casually before looking back at you expectantly.

your eyes widened immediately. "oh my god."

"what?"

"you're insane."

"you've said that already."

"because you keep proving it."

sunghoon's mouth twitched then he gently tugged your wrist again. you should've walked away, seriously. you should've told him to go to hell and left immediately.

instead—you followed him inside. which honestly felt like a personal failure.

the door clicked shut behind you.

the washroom was too bright and too small. and now sunghoon was standing directly in front of you with nowhere to escape to, hoodie sleeves pushed up his forearms and dark hair slightly falling into his eyes.

you became painfully aware of every inch of space between you both, which unfortunately (fortunately) wasn't much.

your pulse went insane. sunghoon leaned back lightly against the sink counter, still watching you with that same unreadable expression. except now there was something sharper underneath it, something heated.

you crossed your arms immediately, defensive. "if you murder me in here i'm haunting you."

sunghoon laughed quietly, the sound bounced softly off the tiled walls. "you think i'd need to drag you into a bathroom to kill you?"

"probably not. you'd do it in a psychologically manipulative way."

"interesting that you've thought about it."

"i think about punching you constantly."

sunghoon hummed. "violent."

"you bring it out in me."

his gaze held yours for a second too long. then, "i know."

your stomach flipped, you hated how low his voice sounded in here. hated how every tiny expression felt amplified now that you were alone. you needed to regain control of this conversation immediately.

"so what exactly was your master plan here?" you asked. "corner me in a public washroom and continue being annoying?"

sunghoon tilted his head slightly. "you came willingly."

well, he got you there. "against my better judgment."

"yet still willingly."

you rolled your eyes aggressively. "you're obsessed with having the last word."

"that's rich coming from you."

"i'm right most of the time." sunghoon smiled slowly, there it was again. that stupid smile that made you irrationally aware of how attractive he was.

you hated that too, everything about him was annoying. the way he stood, the way he talked. the way his hands and forearms looked resting against the sink behind him—okay.

you needed to stop thinking immediately. sunghoon noticed your brief lapse in concentration. his eyes narrowed slightly, amused.

"what happened?" he asked softly. "lost your train of thought?"

"i'm deciding how much jail time i'd get for assault." good cover up!

"probably less if you looked this cute during the mugshot."

your brain completely blue-screened, you stared at him. sunghoon stared back. completely calm after saying the most insane thing imaginable.

"you—" nothing, your thoughts evaporated.

sunghoon pushed off the sink slowly, one step closer. then another. your back instinctively hit the door behind you.

oh my god.

"what?" he asked quietly. you swallowed hard, annoyed at yourself.

"you can't just say things like that."

"why not?"

"because it's weird."

"you're flustered again."

"I AM NOT FLUSTERED."

sunghoon looked down at you for a long second then his gaze flicked to your mouth again. slowly and deliberately. your stomach twisted so hard it physically hurt and you wondered what would happen if you just threw up your guts onto him. how pretty would he look with a bacon egg and cheese splashed onto him?

"you know," he murmured, "for someone who claims to hate me, you let me get very close to you."

"you cornered me." you snap.

"you could move." you opened your mouth then closed it. because—well technically. he wasn't wrong. you absolutely could move, but instead you stayed exactly where you were.

sunghoon noticed immediately, that smug look returned. "there it is."

"stop saying that."

"then stop proving me right."

you glared at him, he stared back. neither of you moved. the tension in the room felt ridiculous now. thick enough to choke on.

and the worst part? sunghoon still looked calm. slightly amused, even. like he was waiting for you to figure something out.

your phone buzzed loudly in your pocket. both of you glanced downward instinctively. another reddit notification, causing sunghoon laughed softly. "they're probably asking if we kissed yet."

your face heated instantly. "they're delusional."

"mhm."

"stop doing that."

"doing what?"

"looking at me like that."

his brows lifted slightly. "like what?"

you gestured vaguely, frustrated. "like you know something i don't."

sunghoon stepped closer again, barely any space left between you now. his voice dropped lower, quieter. "maybe i do."

your breath caught, his hand lifted slowly toward your face. you froze up, completely. sunghoon's fingers brushed lightly against your jaw, gentle and careful. somehow that made it worse. your heartbeat was so loud you were convinced the entire campus could hear it.

sunghoon looked at you for one long second. then quietly—almost teasing—he murmured "still think you'd rather die than kiss me?"

your brain was screaming because park sunghoon's hand was on your jaw right now. his thumb resting lightly against your skin while he looked at you like this —calm on the surface, but with something much more dangerous underneath.

and the worst part? you still hadn't moved away.

your back pressed against the door behind you as your pulse absolutely lost its mind. sunghoon waited patiently for an answer.

that smug bastard. "well?" he murmured softly. you swallowed hard. "you're very confident for someone who uses reddit burner accounts."

the corner of his mouth lifted immediately. there you were, finally talking again.

"deflecting already?"

"i'm not deflecting."

"mhm."

you hated that sound. hated how he kept looking at you like he could see directly through every thought in your head. because right now those thoughts were actively betraying you.

you were suddenly hyperaware of everything, the warmth of his hand, the faint scent of his cologne, the way his hoodie sleeves stretched around his forearms when he shifted closer.

deeply irritating. you narrowed your eyes, trying desperately to regain control of the situation.

"you know what your problem is?"

sunghoon hummed softly, looking down at you with an unreadable glint in his dark eyes. "you think everyone secretly likes you."

"not everyone."

his thumb brushed your jaw slightly as he spoke and your stomach flipped violently.

"just you."

your breath caught embarrassingly fast. sunghoon noticed instantly and his eyes darkened slightly. suddenly the teasing atmosphere shifted into something heavier, quieter.

you hated how good he was at this. "you're unbelievable," you muttered.

"you've said that too."

"because you keep acting insane."

sunghoon leaned down slightly, close enough now that his voice felt warm against your skin.

"you haven't told me to stop."

your brain short-circuited. because—because technically—you hadn't. you opened your mouth immediately. "stop."

sunghoon smiled faintly, but didn't move. "that sounded forced."

you glared at him. "you're annoying."

"and yet you're still here." he kept doing that. kept pointing out things you didn't want to acknowledge. like the fact that you could absolutely shove him away right now if you wanted to.

except you didn't, which felt like a massive personal failure. your phone buzzed again in your pocket making sunghoon laughed quietly under his breath. "persistent audience."

"they need hobbies."

"says the girl who argued with me online for thirteen hours."

"because you were WRONG."

"about what exactly?"

"everything."

sunghoon's brows lifted slightly. "including the part where you're obviously attracted to me?"

your jaw dropped. silence. violent silence. your entire nervous system shut down. "you—"

nothing came out and sunghoon looked way too pleased with himself. "there it is again."

"if you say 'speechless' one more time i'm calling campus security."

he laughed again, soft and genuine. and it hit you in the chest in the most irritating way imaginable because you'd never heard him laugh like this before.

not during class, not during arguments. this was different, warmer, more relaxed. like he was actually enjoying himself.

you stared at him suspiciously, sunghoon noticed immediately. "what?"

"why are you smiling like that."

"like what?"

"like you're having fun." his gaze held yours for a second, then, "i am."

your stomach twisted again, it felt as if your body was actively betraying you . you looked away first this time, suddenly very interested in the tiled floor beneath you. sunghoon's hand shifted slightly, fingers brushing gently beneath your chin.

guiding your attention back to him and your heart nearly exploded.

"don't do that," you muttered weakly.

"do what?"

"that."

"very descriptive."

you glared at him, or attempted to. hard to look intimidating when your face was hot and your heartbeat sounded like a construction site.

sunghoon studied your expression quietly for a moment. then smiled slightly, smaller this time and less teasing. "you know what i think?"

"i think you should stop thinking entirely." you spat out weakly.

"i think," he continued calmly ignoring what you just said, "you've spent two years picking fights with me because it's the only time you stop pretending not to care what i think."

your stomach dropped straight to hell you stared at him only to see him look at you with a look you were afraid to identify.  and somehow that was worse than the teasing, because he sounded genuine now.

which felt unfair.

you recovered immediately through anger, your favorite defense mechanism.

"oh my god you are SO full of yourself."

"am i wrong?"

"yes."

"then why are you blushing?"

you slapped your hands over your face instantly, and sunghoon actually laughed. fully this time and the sound was so unexpectedly attractive it made you want to walk directly into traffic.

"stop laughing."

"you're cute when you're angry."

"you're making me angrier."

"i know." his voice softened slightly on the last two words, your hands slowly lowered from your face.

sunghoon was still standing impossibly close. still looking at you like he wanted to see what you'd do next. your heartbeat wouldn't calm down and neither would your thoughts.

and then his gaze dropped to your mouth again, slowly—intentionally.

your breath caught again and sunghoon noticed. again. his hand slid lightly from your jaw to the side of your neck.

you completely stopped functioning. "sunghoon," you whispered, first name only this time. this was probably the first time in the two years you knew him that you had said his name with such softness.

something shifted in his expression immediately and his eyes darkened. his thumb pressed lightly against your neck.

"yeah?" he murmured.

oh.

oh this was bad.

his thumb pressed gently against the pulse hammering in your throat. that single point of contact felt like a live wire.

"yeah?" he murmured again, his voice dropping into a register you'd never heard, low and rough and utterly dismantling. you had no witty retort, no clever insult. your brain was static, every neuron firing toward the heat of his hand, the dark focus in his eyes.

he saw the surrender you hadn't even voiced. his other hand came up, fingers threading through your hair to cradle the back of your head, and then he was closing the last inch of space.

his mouth was on yours.

it wasn't tentative. it wasn't a question. it was a firm, smooth claim that stole the breath from your lungs and the strength from your knees. his lips moved against yours with a confident pressure that was instantly dizzying. he tasted like mint and something darker, something uniquely him.

a soft, surprised sound escaped you, swallowed immediately by his kiss. he angled your head, deepening it, his tongue sweeping past your lips to tangle with yours.

it was an argument you couldn't win, a debate settled with a devastating, sensual finality. your hands, which had been balled into fists at your sides, came up to clutch at the fabric of his hoodie.

he broke the kiss just long enough to whisper against your swollen lips, "finally." then he was moving again, his body pressing you firmly back against the cool door. you felt your heart pounding in your chest like you had ran a mile, his one word stealing the strength from your legs.

in one fluid, shockingly strong motion, he captured both your wrists in one of his large hands and pinned them above your head. you gasped, a thrill of helplessness shooting straight to your core. his other hand returned to your throat, not squeezing, just holding, a dominant, possessive weight.

"always so loud," he breathed, his lips trailing down your jaw. "so much to say." you could feel the hard, undeniable ridge of his dick pressing against your stomach through both your clothes. the evidence of his desire was a shockwave that made you whimper. he smirked against your skin. "what's wrong? no clever comeback?"

he leaned in again, but instead of kissing you, he hovered. his gaze locked on yours, dark and intense. then he gathered a bit of saliva on his tongue and let it fall, slow and deliberate, past his own lips and onto yours.

the warm, wet intimacy of it made your eyes flutter closed for a second. "open," he commanded softly. dazed, you did. he sealed his mouth over yours again, sharing the wetness, the kiss turning filthy and deep.

you drank him in, your earlier defiance melting into a desperate, aching need. you could feel your underwear stick to you uncomfortably, shifting slighting only to have sunghoon's large body pin you against the door harder. his bulge pushing into your stomach firmer, you could feel him grind against you.

he pulled back, his breathing slightly ragged, and began to mouth down the column of your throat. his teeth scraped lightly, then bit down, not hard enough to truly hurt, but enough to make you cry out and arch against him. he soothed the spot with his tongue before sucking hard, leaving a brand you knew would bloom purple.

he admired his work, then the dizzy, wrecked look on your face. "look at you. all that fire, reduced to this." his free hand slid down, grabbing the hem of your shirt. "all those essays about my emotional incompetence," he said, tugging the fabric up. you shivered as cool air hit your stomach.

"all that time you spent thinking about me." the shirt went over your head, discarded somewhere on the floor. his eyes raked over your bra. "and for what? to end up here."

"you're—you're still insufferable," you managed to pant, even as you pressed your chest toward him—urging him to take it off.

"i know," he said, his fingers deftly finding the clasp of your bra. it came undone. "and you're still obsessed." the bra straps slid down your arms, still trapped in his grasp. he let go of your wrists just long enough to pull the garment away and toss it aside. immediately, his hand returned, clamping back down.

you used your momentary freedom to grab the bottom of his hoodie, pushing it up. he helped, releasing you to yank it and his shirt off in one impatient move.

then he was back on you, skin to searing skin. he was a biter, just as you'd imagined. his mouth latched onto the swell of your breast, teeth grazing your nipple before he sucked it deep.

you cried out, your head thumping back against the door. "if you can do it," you gasped, twisting to reach his shoulder with your mouth. you sank your teeth into the hard muscle there, a retaliatory claim. "then i can too."

"fuck." he groaned, the sound vibrating through your entire body. you think you just gushed and ruined your panties.

a competition of marks began. he left a trail of bruises and blooming red patches down your chest, over your ribs. you reciprocated on his neck, his collarbone, his pectoral, each bite earning a sharper gasp or a low, approving growl from him.

the pain was a bright, sharp pleasure, a physical manifestation of all your tangled, furious energy. suddenly, he was pushing you down. a firm hand on your shoulder guided you to your knees on the cold tile.

you looked up at him, dazed. he loomed over you, his expression one of dark, predatory amusement. he undid his belt buckle, the click obscenely loud in the small room.

"i wonder," he mused, his voice thick, "how much shit you can talk with your mouth full of me."

he popped the button of his jeans, lowered the zipper. the outline of his cock straining against his boxers made your mouth water. "hands behind your back," he ordered.

you hesitated, glaring up at him. with a frustrated noise, you reached for his waistband. he caught your wrist instantly. "ah-ah." his other hand came up and delivered a firm, almost casual pat against your cheek. it wasn't a hard slap, but it was a stinging, dominant correction that made your eyes widen and your clit throb. "i said, no hands."

swallowing your pride, you leaned forward. you nuzzled against the fabric of his boxers, feeling the hard heat beneath. using your teeth, you caught the elastic waistband and tugged it down, revealing him.

he was thick and fully hard, the tip already glistening. you licked a slow stripe from base to tip, looking up at him through your lashes. his jaw tightened as you took him into your mouth, slowly, relishing the salty, clean taste of him, the way his hips gave a tiny, involuntary jerk.

he let you set the pace for a moment, his hands fisting in your hair. "that's it," he breathed, his composure fraying. "all that attitude... fucking gone." you hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper, until he hit the back of your throat.

you relaxed, letting him slide further, tears pricking your eyes. the rhythm became faster, harder, driven by the soft, choked sounds he was making above you. his grip in your hair tightened, guiding you.

you could feel his hips shudder and his pace falter as he peered down to see his cock disappear in your mouth. he felt his chest swell just at the sight of you, eyes watering and face red.

"gonna cum," he warned, his voice ragged. you didn't pull away. with a sharp, guttural groan, he spilled hot and bitter over your tongue and across your chest, painting stripes over your skin.

he took a second to admire the mess he had made of you, your skin flushed a pretty pink with his cum coating you like icing on a cake.

he pulled you to your feet, his own legs seemingly unsteady. he pushed your pants and panties down in one rough motion, his fingers immediately finding your slick heat.

he pushed your soaked underwear aside, sliding two fingers through your folds. "so wet," he laughed, a dark, triumphant sound. he brought his glistening fingers to your lips. "and for me. after all that."

he turned you around, bending you over the sink. your reflection was a shock—flushed face, bruised lips, hair a mess, his marks covering your skin. he positioned himself behind you, one hand wrapping around your throat again, pulling you back against his chest. the other hand rubbed tight, demanding circles over your clit.

"look," he whispered harshly in your ear, nodding at the mirror. "look at how silly you look. falling apart on my fingers when just hours ago you were calling me a 'rejected sherlock holmes adaptation' on the internet." the overstimulation was maddening. pleasure coiled tight in your belly.

"the comments... were idiots," you panted, even as you pushed back against his fingers trying to get him to slip them inside your needy weeping hole.

he chuckled, the sound vibrating against your back. "they saw right through you." he pushed a finger inside you, then another, curling them. you gasped, your knees buckling. "admit it. you wanted this every time you picked a fight."

"i wanted to win," you moaned, the words torn from you. he hooked his fingers in you, rubbing your gummy walls while his thumb continued to rub circles against your needy clit.

"you are winning," he breathed, nipping your earlobe. "look at you. you won my full, undivided attention." he removed his fingers, and you felt the blunt, hot pressure of his cock at your entrance.

he pushed in, slowly, inch by devastating inch, filling you completely. the stretch was divine. he held you there, both of you panting, watching in the mirror. he almost came at the sight of your fucked out face, his hands gripping your waist with pressure that would surely bruise.

he began to move, a slow, filthy grind that had you seeing stars. his hand on your throat kept you upright, the other hand sliding around to rub your clit in time with his thrusts. "beg for it," he murmured, his eyes locked on yours in the reflection. "beg me to let you cum."

you didn't answer, trying to avoid his gaze in the mirror only for a particularly rough thrust and his blunt nails digging into your face to swiftly put you back in your place.

"no," you gritted out, even as your body shook. he spanked you once, hard, on the ass cheek. the sharp sting made you cry out and clench around him. "beg."

"sunghoon—"

another spank. his fingers on your clit became relentless. you were so close, teetering on the edge, but he held you there, his thrusts measured and deep.

"you're so stubborn. just like online. all that typing." he punctuated each word with a thrust. "just. give. in." the pleasure was a tidal wave, held back by his will alone. you were so overstimulated, so desperate, your pride the only thing left. he leaned forward, his mouth at your ear. "come on, sweetheart. let go. tell me you need it."

as much as it killed you to beg, it also killed you to not cum all over his stupidly thick cock. you could feel the coil in your stomach tighten up as you try to push yourself back to meet his strong and unrelenting thrusts.

sunghoon smirks when he notices your desperation, slowing down on purpose. "c'mon, sweetheart. you don't wanna cum f'me?"

the pet name, the raw need in his own voice, broke you. "please," you sobbed, the word barely audible. "please, sunghoon, let me cum."

"good girl," he purred, and his rhythm became punishing and his fingers began to rub punishingly against your swollen clit. "now."

the orgasm ripped through you, blinding and violent. you screamed, your body convulsing around him as he fucked you through it, his own groans joining yours.

you felt his warm cum flood your cunt as you twitched with the aftershocks of your high.  he watched you fall apart in the mirror, his expression one of fierce, possessive satisfaction.

as your spasms began to subside, he slowed, still buried deep inside you. he was breathing heavily against your neck.

he planted soft kisses on your shoulder blade and neck, his dick still in you—twitching. your body trembled slightly, refusing to look into the mirror because then you would see the aftermath of what sunghoon had done to you.

the silence afterward felt strange.

not awkward. not exactly.

just... different.

like something between you had shifted permanently and neither of you quite knew how to deal with it yet.

the fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead while rain tapped faintly against the tiny washroom window. your heart still hadn't calmed down properly, which was deeply irritating considering park sunghoon looked entirely too composed standing in front of you when you had finally found your guts to look.

his dark hair was messy now, lips pink from kissing you. his body was covered in a thin layer of sweat that gave his pale skin a beautiful glow.

which—you immediately looked away.

absolutely not.

sunghoon noticed, of course. he noticed everything.

"you're quiet," he said softly.

you scoffed weakly, body twitching when you feel sunghoon grow hard in you. "this is emotionally traumatic for me."

the corner of his mouth lifted, that stupid almost-smile again. except now it looked softer somehow and less smug.

you attempted to move only for his body to keep you caged between the sink and him. you looked down for a moment to see his cum that had escaped from you dripping down your thigh, a shaky breath leaving your bruised lips.

"don't look at me like that."

"like what?"

"like you just won something, you didn't win shit."

sunghoon leaned back lightly against the door of the washroom eyes still fixed on you. "maybe i did."

your stomach flipped and you frowned immediately, just because you two fucked doesn't mean that you would admit defeat to sunghoon and his annoying antics. "you're so annoying."

"you keep saying that."

"because you keep being annoying."

sunghoon laughed quietly under his breath, shaking his head slightly. the sound hit you straight in the chest in the most irritating way imaginable.

silence settled again for a moment, except this time it didn't feel sharp or tense like your usual arguments.

it felt warm, which was arguably more terrifying.

your eyes narrowed suddenly. "sunoo is never letting me live this down."

sunghoon's smile widened immediately. "he already thought you liked me."

"he's delusional."

"mhm."

you pointed at him instantly. "stop doing that."

"doing what?" he snickers as he finally pulls out, a small whimper escaping your parted lips and sunghoon swears he could cum from that little sound alone.

"that fake calm thing."

"it's not fake."

"that somehow makes it worse."

sunghoon pushed himself off of you before turning you around so your back faced the mirror and stepped closer again.

not cornering you this time, just close enough that your pulse started acting stupid all over again. his gaze dropped briefly to your mouth, then your thighs that were trembling before returning to your eyes.

"so what now?" he asked quietly, his hands coming out to grab on to your hips.

you folded your arms tighter, defensive reflex.

"what do you mean."

"are you still gonna argue with me in class?"

you stared at him like that was the dumbest question ever asked.

"obviously."

sunghoon laughed softly. "figured."

"just because i fucked you doesn't mean your opinions suddenly got better."

"ouch."

"you still sound pretentious."

"and you still interrupt me constantly."

"because you're wrong constantly."

sunghoon shook his head, smiling now. his hand reaching down to push the cum that was trailing down your inner thigh back up—rubbing your swollen cunt with his remnants.

you squeaked out at the feeling, grabbing a hold of his wrist as he watched you with a lazy smile. you hated how much better he looked when he smiled properly.

your phone buzzed loudly against the counter beside you.

then again and again.

you looked down at the endless reddit notifications flooding your screen and groaned dramatically.

"i genuinely hate everyone on that app." sunghoon glanced at your phone before looking back at you, his fingers leaving your cunt to rest back on your hips again much to your dismay.

amusement flickered across his face immediately. "they were pretty accurate though."

"don't start."

"'enemies to lovers' seemed popular."

"they're unemployed."

sunghoon laughed again and you stared at him suspiciously for a second, then narrowed your eyes. "you know this is all your fault."

"interesting argument."

"you replied first."

"you made the post first."

"because you're irritating."

"and yet here you are."

your face heated instantly, sunghoon noticed. his expression softened slightly after that, teasing fading into something quieter.

more careful, he looked at you for a long second close enough that your heartbeat immediately betrayed you again. then, with that same smug little smile returning to his mouth, he tilted his head slightly and murmured, "so."

you narrowed your eyes immediately. "so what."

sunghoon's gaze held yours, steady, amused and dangerously warm.

"do you still think i'm the asshole?"

— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!

[fqirysim]

new carrd alert 😛😛 still working on casual (ngl i have not even made a dent in it), sorry its taking so long!! school and work has had me SWAMPED.

[siredbykat]

absolutely sickening. this poor, poor girl. god please don't let the system fail her and let her get the justice she deserves.

[fqirysim]

as a nctzen i am horrified by what has come out about taeil. if you are defending him or still choose to support him UNFOLLOW me and BLOCK me rn, because if i see anyone that i follow supporting him, i will block you myself.

idc if he "doesn't seem like he would". he committed a disgusting and vile crime and that is not someone i will be supporting.

his victim was born in 2006. and this has gone on for 6 YEARS. she is only a year younger than me and she was 12 when this started. she was 12 and he was 24. she was TWELVE and he was TWENTY FOUR. he was DOUBLE HER AGE. let that fucking sink in.

this goes to show that we know NOTHING about these men. we don't know what goes on when the cameras are off. we don't know how these men really are in their day to day lives, and i hope that you guys realize this as well.

as a victim of sa, and as a woman, i hope moon taeil rots in hell. i hope the rest of his life is miserable and he feels all of the pain that he inflicted on his victims.

and to his victims, his mother, and his sister, i hope they all heal and find peace.

[hana-loves-bumblebees]

“Is it okay if I draw fanart of your fanfic?👉🏼👈🏼”

My brother in Christ we shall have a spring wedding

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

I want everyone to know that this is me every time someone drops a comment on something I've written:

[everoutoftouch]

If you have Spotify reblog this and tag what your number one song on your “on repeat” playlist is.

[fqirysim]

ATTENTION PLEASE AT 900 NOTES????

[fqirysim]

attention, please !

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐫, 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐬 (𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩), 𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝, 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐮 (𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐚)

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫!𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐭. 𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 (𝐢𝐯𝐞)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏𝟎.𝟕𝐤 (𝐢 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭'𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 (𝐞𝐱: 𝐣𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰)

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦-- 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞; 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐛𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐝, 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐦, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐰, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭!! 𝐢 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢'𝐦 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬!! 𝐢 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐢 𝐝𝐨 <𝟑. 𝐨𝐛𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐚'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞! 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥. 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢'𝐦 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐜, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐭. 𝐢𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @yunhoswrldddd @aubaee @kim2005bomi

—-----

sunghoon was never one to get rejected. he was the most handsome guy on campus, after all. he was charming and handsome, and people would come watch your university team play hockey just to see him. who else would they come see? (well, maybe some of them came to see his best friend heeseung, but sunghoon chose to believe everyone came to see him.)

all his life, sunghoon had always gotten what he wanted, the person that he liked at the time or whatever expensive item he eyed in the store window. being the handsome son of a ceo had its perks. 

so you can imagine the shock that shot through sunghoon when you were the first person in his life to tell him no. 

he had talked to you all night at one of yeonjun’s parties after noticing you in his class earlier that week. he remembered talking to his best friend heeseung about you, and the bet that soon followed after; if he could get you to fall for him, heeseung would have to do sunghoon’s laundry for a month. but if sunghoon lost, he would have to give heeseung $500. 

of course, $500 was pocket change for sunghoon, but he was never one to turn down a bet– especially one he knew he would win. and plus, not doing laundry for a month (especially during hockey season), was a blessing if sunghoon had ever seen one. 

sunghoon had observed you beforehand; you were cute, quiet, timid. you sat in class and took your notes like the good little girl you were, and even though sunghoon pretended not to notice, he saw you glancing at him throughout class.

he believed that it would have been easy to get you to follow him upstairs, to spend the night with him and fall in love with him like every other girl he hooked up with. 

he would soon find out that this was not easy at all. 

when he reached for your hand, you instead drew back. you didn’t jump into his arms the first chance you got. you didn’t even lean in for a kiss. 

you instead told him, “sorry, i’m not interested.” 

you weren’t interested in park sunghoon? 

he was the son of a ceo, he was handsome, he was charming, he was funny, and he chose to flirt with you all night yet you still weren’t interested? were you not stealing glances at sunghoon during class after all? if you weren’t looking at him, what else would you be looking at? surely there was nothing else interesting enough to look at. unless you were taking glances at the clock that was hung up on the wall behind him. and was that pity on your face? 

there was an awkward silence that fell upon you as sunghoon tried to compose himself. 

sunghoon had never lost his cool, and he definitely had never been rejected before. this seemed even more obvious to you as he nervously chuckled, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. 

the tips of his ears started to turn pink as sunghoon opened his mouth to make up some sort of excuse, anything to get rid of this awkward atmosphere. anything to redeem himself and his reputation. 

before he could come up with anything, you muttered “it was nice talking to you,” with an awkward smile and bowed your head politely, before weaving through the crowd of bodies dancing together.  

sunghoon watched as you walked away, approaching a boy in one of his other classes. his eyes narrowed as he saw you talking to jake sim, your smile bright and face slightly flushed. 

“hey sunghoon,” a familiar voice yelled over the loud music. heeseung was making his way over, a red solo cup in hand. he stumbled a bit on the way over, regaining his balance with the help of a girl on the dance floor. 

finally making his way over, he leaned against the wall next to sunghoon, taking a sip of his drink. 

“what happened to the girl you said you were gonna make fall in love with you?” he teased, his words slightly slurred. his breath reeked of alcohol. 

“ew heeseung, how much did you drink?” sunghoon grimaced, pushing heeseung’s face away from his. “she said she wasn’t interested.”

sunghoon had mumbled the last part, too embarrassed to say it loud enough for anyone to hear. the music blasting throughout the house was (thankfully) loud enough to drown sunghoon’s voice out, leaving a confused look on heeseung’s face. “she what? i can’t hear you, the music’s too loud!”

“i’ll tell you in the morning,” sunghoon replied. he didn’t want to have this conversation with a drunk heeseung. 

“who’s that guy?” sunghoon instead asked, feigning ignorance. he nodded his head at jake sim who still had your every bit of attention as he talked, which only annoyed sunghoon more. when sunghoon talked to you, you seemed like you were waiting for someone to show up. 

seems like now i know who it was, sunghoon thought bitterly.

“who, jake?” heeseung asked. 

“jake? is he american?” sunghoon replied. 

“no, australian,” heeseung responded, ignoring the scoff in sunghoon’s voice. “korean-australian to be exact.”

“he’s a cool guy, hoon,” heeseung continued, noticing the sour expression on his friend’s face. “he got in with a soccer scholarship, was the class president at his high school, got the highest grades, and from what i heard, he still does. i’ve hung out with him and his friends once, they’re really cool.”

“well who is he friends with?” sunghoon snapped. 

“jay, and some freshman named jungwon.”

sunghoon said nothing in response, watching as riki came to talk to heeseung, dragging him over to the dance floor. 

sunghoon bitterly took a sip of his drink, watching you once again as you talked to jake. he was now handing you a drink, a smile on his face as he said something, causing you to laugh. 

sunghoon couldn’t quite put his finger on the feeling he felt, watching as jake made you laugh. sunghoon wanted to be the one to do that, to make you laugh and smile and flutter your eyelashes.

it seemed like jake could feel his gaze on them, glancing over at sunghoon and nodding his head in greeting. sunghoon chose to ignore him, and chugged the rest of his drink before he went to get sunoo and heeseung to tell them it was time they went home to their apartment. 

—-----

monday morning, sunghoon was ready to go to his first class of the day. his first class was at 8 in the morning, which was usually not a good thing, but as he sat in his usual seat, a row behind jake, he found himself picking the boy in front of him apart. 

what did this boy have that he didn’t? what made you blush and giggle in ways that sunghoon apparently couldn’t do for you? 

sure, jake could speak fluent english with that stupid accent of his, and he can get the best grades in the class and play soccer. but sunghoon could do all of those things if he really tried! 

he could hire a tutor to teach him english and he could be fluent in a month if he really put his mind to it! sunghoon could be studious like him! he could get good grades and become top of his class in no time.

as if the timing couldn’t get any better, his professor placed a piece of paper on the table in front of him, mouth downturned into a frown.

a feeling of dread filled sunghoon as he picked up his paper, seeing a bright red 65 at the top of the page. he just barely passed. 

“what did you get?” jake whispered to the girl sitting beside him. her face turned a slight pink as she blushed. she was so obviously into him.

“just an 85, what about you?” 

jake showed her his paper with a wide smile, a bright red 98 on his paper. “if you need help with anything let me know, i don’t mind studying together!” 

if sunghoon said this, he would’ve sounded like he was flirting. but when jake said it, it sounded like he meant it. he seemed so earnest, so nice. 

the girl’s face reddened even more as she nodded her head before turning her attention back to the front, fixing her hair so that her hair was pushed back behind her ear. 

sunghoon watched in disbelief. 

sunghoon felt annoyed as he thought of you. why did he care so much about what you thought of him, anyway? you were just one girl out of hundreds that he could flirt with. 

but his thoughts kept drifting to you, your smile as you looked up at jake at the party, your head thrown back in laughter at something he said. how pretty you looked that night with all the jewelry you wore. 

he jolted out of his thoughts as he heard students packing their things up, signaling the end of class. he shook his head at his previous thoughts, chalking them up to just wanting to win his bet with heeseung. 

sunghoon hastily grabbed his things and threw them in his bag to leave before jake did. 

he knew it was immature, to make everything a one-sided competition with the boy, but he couldn’t help it as he speed-walked out of the class, even though his next class wasn’t until 11. 

—-------

you sat in your usual seat for your class at 11 am, taking out your laptop and supplies for the lesson ahead. 

you hated this class and cursed whoever invented it. you hated how it seemed like when you were in this class the minutes would just drag on and on and on. 

you glanced to your left as you heard someone take the seat next to you, a familiar cologne drifting in the air. it was none other than park sunghoon, his hair and clothes styled to perfection per usual, pulling a notebook out of his bag. 

you looked at him quizzically, wondering why he was sitting next to you. you knew he usually sat in the back so that your professor wouldn’t be able to notice him on his phone. not that you paid attention to him, of course. or so you said. 

you didn’t go out of your way to pay attention to every single thing sunghoon did, but you couldn’t say you weren’t the tiniest bit interested in him. maybe you would’ve been crushing on him instead of jake if he weren’t such a player. 

“you wouldn’t happen to have a pen i could borrow, do you?” sunghoon whispered to you, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

“yeah, here,” you handed him a pen from your pencil case. you tried to turn your attention back to the lecture but couldn’t help from stealing a couple of looks at sunghoon. 

your gaze worked its way down from the top of his head to his beautiful side profile, to the perfect angle of his jawline, and then eventually to the notebook in front of him. 

it was empty. it was opened to the first page and it was completely empty.

 not a single note was taken, and you were almost quite certain that he hadn’t even opened the book before today. you were halfway through the semester and it was like sunghoon wasn’t even in your class. 

he looked so confused at everything that your professor was saying that you felt a little bit bad for him. not too bad though. that’s what he deserved for worrying more about partying and girls than his academics. 

your class came to an end quicker than it usually seemed, with you rushing to leave with the other students in your class. “hey, y/n, wait up!” you turned to see sunghoon speed walking to catch up with you, hair slightly frazzled and only one strap of his backpack on.  

“hey sunghoon, what’s up?” you replied nonchalantly, hoping he wouldn’t bring up yeonjun’s party. you had hoped that he was just drunk, that you were just there and he forgot all about you rejecting him. but why else would he sit next to you in class? you had nothing in common with the boy in front of you. 

with his pretty boy features, shiny hair, and designer clothes he was almost your complete opposite. with how much you’ve been studying you were sure that the bags under your eyes weren’t hard to spot, and you couldn’t remember the last time you washed the sweater you were wearing right now. 

“about yeonjun’s party,” sunghoon started. 

“oh yea, yeonjun’s party! crazy night am i right?” you cut him off, starting to walk towards the direction of your dorm. 

“yeah no for sure it was a blast,” he chuckled awkwardly, keeping pace with you as you walked. “i just wanted to apologize, i think i came off a bit too strong.” 

you glanced over at him, hoping he wasn’t looking at you. of course, with your luck, you made eye contact with him, your face starting to feel hot as you felt his gaze continue. 

you composed yourself, standing up a bit straighter, “sunghoon, i meant what i said. i’m sorry, but i’m really not interested.” with an awkward smile and a bow, for the second time within two days, you were walking away from sunghoon’s advances.

“come on y/n one date, i’m begging,” you heard him shout after you. 

“never gonna happen sunghoon!” you replied, without even turning around to look back. 

—-------

sunghoon was hurt to say the least. or, well his ego was hurt. there was no way you weren’t into him. so sunghoon would have to be persistent, no big deal. but in order to do so, he would have to go to greater lengths than he ever had before.

“jungwon! over here!” sunghoon waved the boy over to where he was sitting in the cafe he was at.

the young boy looked over quizzically before he started to make his way over, “um, hi?” 

sunghoon had never cared for the younger boy, but he knew that yang jungwon was his ticket to a date with y/n. jungwon was her best friend, and he remembered that heeseung said the boy was also friends with jake. this was the best strategic thought sunghoon could’ve ever come up with. 

“why don’t you take a seat? let’s catch up! i haven’t seen you since high school, you’ve gotten so tall!” 

“we never talked in high school.” jungwon deadpanned. “what do you actually want sunghoon?” 

sunghoon sighed, “it’s y/n. i have this big crush on her, and she’s done nothing but reject my advances. i need help winning her over.” sunghoon internally cringed at his own sigh, hoping it didn’t sound too dramatic or too obvious that he didn’t mean the words he said. 

with a quizzical expression, jungwon finally took a seat, his interest piqued. hook, line, and sinker sunghoon thought. this will be a piece of cake. 

“are you sure we’re thinking of the same y/n? she just seems…” jungwon paused, trying to piece his words together in a polite way. “...a little too good for you.” 

“she is too good for me which is why i’m trying to win her over. jungwon PLEASE, i need your help.” sunghoon pleaded, his hands held together. “i need to know what she likes, what she dislikes, her hopes and dreams her everything PLEASE, I’M BEGGING.”

jungwon cringed at the volume of sunghoon’s voice, feelings the eyes of the strangers around him. “if i say yes, will you shut up?”

—-------

as you walked to your seat you realized that there was something sitting on your desk. glancing around, you noticed sunghoon sitting in the seat next to yours with a bright smile on his face. 

“good morning gorgeous!” he exclaimed. 

“oh shut up,” feeling your face heat up as you took your seat and examined the drink in front of you. it was a full cup of iced coffee, and from the looks of it, it was your usual coffee order. 

“i got that for you on the way here,” sunghoon said sheepishly, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “i asked your friend jungwon what you liked, and he told me that you like iced coffee so i figured i’d grab you one.” 

“oh… well thank you,” you replied, taking a tentative sip. you weren’t going to lie, it was sweet of him to reach out to jungwon and to get you coffee. you don’t think anyone other than your friends ever bought coffee for you. surely, not your cheating ex boyfriend, you thought bitterly. 

 your eyes widened slightly as you took that first sip; he had gotten your order down to how much sugar you liked and with extra caramel. 

sunghoon watched as you sipped on your drink, throwing a smile your way in response to your thank you. i’ve got her exactly where i want her, he thought, turning his attention back to the professor. 

as the class went by, sunghoon tried his best to stay awake, feeling his eyelids getting droopy. he had been up all night trying to decide which date he would take you on. even now he was thinking of how pretty you’d look, and how good you smell, and how pretty your smile was, and oh no why did his heart beat a little faster at the thought of you?

he was suddenly wide awake and extremely cautious about how loud his heart was beating when he looked over at you. he shook his head at his thoughts, reminding himself that this was just a bet he wanted to win. he was just confusing real feelings with fake ones. that had to be the only reason why he thought about your (hypothetical) date so much. right? 

as your class came to an end, sunghoon started to pack up his things, as your professor announced, “guys please don’t forget to study for our upcoming midterm exam next friday! i wish you all good luck with your studies!” 

sunghoon felt a his heart drop to his stomach. what exam? since when did they have an exam? he racked his brain trying to remember your professor say anything about an exam prior to this day. 

he had a faint memory of her saying something about an exam while he was scrolling through tiktok on his phone last week. oh i’m cooked, sunghoon thought. 

“hey, did you maybe wanna study together?” he heard you ask. he was so grateful that you offered to study that he thought he heard angels singing. “it’s just that on monday i couldn’t help but glance over and saw your notebook was empty, and i wanted to repay you for the coffee today.” 

sunghoon felt his face heat up from embarrassment. instead of admitting his embarrassment though, he instead said, “yeah of course you were paying attention to me, you want me so bad.”

“yea, nevermind about the studying then, fend for yourself,” you deadpanned, grabbing your bag. 

“wait, sorry i was just kidding, please help me study, i need help desperately,” sunghoon pleaded, grabbing onto your wrist before you could walk off. 

you ignored the tingles that were sent throughout your body from the physical touch and replied, “fine. meet me at the library at 3 today. i’ll be in one of the study rooms.” 

you walked away before he could say anything else, knowing if he flirted with you again, you might just fold. sure, he never would want a serious relationship with you of all people, but damn was that man good looking. 

you let your thoughts drift towards sunghoon as you made your way to your dorm. you thought of the coffee you were holding in your hand, and his hand around yours. you thought of his pretty smile and how tall he was, before you pushed those thoughts away. he quite literally did the bare minimum and you were blushing over that? he’d have to try harder to gain your attention (not that he didn’t have it already, you realized with embarrassment).

as you arrived at your dorm, you let yourself in with your key, seeing a familiar figure sitting at your desk. “hey jungwon.” 

“hey, wonyoung let me in before she left for class,” he mentioned your roommate, just barely glancing up from his phone as you set your coffee on the desk he was sitting at. 

 “you stopped to get coffee on the way here?” jungwon asked.

“no, sunghoon actually got it for me,” you replied nonchalantly, absentmindedly twirling the ends of your hair around your finger. 

“sunghoon? he was asking me about you the other day. is there anything going on between you two?” jungwon asked suggestively, nudging you lightly with his shoulder. 

“no? kinda? i mean, it was sweet of him to ask you about my coffee order i guess, and he’s definitely not an ugly guy, and then there’s also jake, but i mean i don’t know,” you answered honestly. your thoughts were so scrambled you felt like you were talking in circles. “i just don’t wanna be another one of those girls that he messes with for a month and then moves onto the next.”

jungwon nodded his head solemnly in response, “yeah when he asked me about you i was definitely very skeptical because of what we’ve heard of him, but he wanted to know about you like really bad so i don’t know. technically you don’t really have to take him too serious either, you know. you’re young, pretty and single, you should flirt around a bit! you can’t put all your eggs in one basket with jake.”

“ugh i know,” you groaned as you laid on your bed with a slight thump. “it’s like that guy’s oblivious to everything. you know, i asked him if he wanted to go out for dinner, and i show up to the restaurant and he brought jay with him! like i did my hair and makeup all nice and i put on my prettiest outfit and instead of being on a date i'm third wheeling him and jay!"

"yeah jake might be a little… slow. but i mean other than that he's the perfect package, right?" jungwon asked, turning in his seat so he was facing you. 

"honestly i don't even know anymore, i feel like i'm going crazy. all i've thought of today was sunghoon, and i'm seeing him later to study, jungwon what am i gonna do?"

"oh no you got it bad," jungwon sighed. 

"please don't say that i think i'll have to throw myself off a cliff."

"oh don't say that, he seemed like he genuinely wanted to get to know you when i was talking to him," jungwon shrugged. "he practically begged me for info on you."

"i don't know, i'll just see how it goes, play it by ear. i'll keep you updated," you sighed. 

—-------

you had been waiting for sunghoon for 20 minutes now and he still hasn't shown. you didn't have his number and you certainly didn't know his socials so you didn't have any way to text him. 

you felt a little humiliated as you started to pack your things up. why would sunghoon actually be taking this class serious? of course he didn’t care about this class, you felt stupid for even thinking so. 

you knew deep down this wasn’t about studying for an exam for a gen ed class. you knew you were hurt because a tiny part of you was excited to see sunghoon. as obnoxious as the boy was, he was very easy on the eyes. and in some small way, you felt like if he took this seriously maybe he'd take you seriously as well.

you might have been reading too much into it though.

just as you had zipped your bag up, sunghoon rushed into the study room, his hair messed up like he just woke up from bed. 

"sorry i'm late, i took a nap and my alarm didn't go off and i've never been to this side of the library so i had a bit of a hard time finding where you were," he apologized. 

"sunghoon if you didn't wanna study with me that's fine but if that's the case can you just tell me beforehand so that you don't waste my time?" you snapped. "if you don't wanna take your studies seriously then i really can’t help you."

"i am taking this seriously!" he exclaimed frantically, worried you'd leave. "i really am sorry i swear, i really really need your help please, y/n." 

you felt your heart flutter as you heard your name escape his lips. "fine, but you better pay attention or i'm never helping you again."

"thank you so much," he sighed in relief. "i'm not gonna lie, i haven't been paying attention at all in that class and i need all the help i can get."

"yeah, i can tell," you replied, before you could think your words through. "not saying you're dumb or anything i just noticed how you were on your phone like all the time."

"oh so you did notice me?" sunghoon asked, an eyebrow raised in question. "i don't know y/n, sounds to me like you're in love with me."

"whatever," you replied, choosing to ignore his comments as you pulled your notes out. "alright, we've got a week until our midterm, so we've gotta lock in if you wanna pass."

of course, that was easier said than done. 

sunghoon couldn't focus on the material when you were sitting right next to him, with your pretty hair and pretty smile and pretty lips and god did he wanna kiss you right then and there. 

"sunghoon? are you paying attention?" 

"yea of course," he answered, picking up his pen to pretend he knew what you were talking about. 

you narrowed your eyes but shrugged it off. you had been there for 2 hours, and sunghoon felt like it was going nowhere. it wasn't your fault though, it was his. 

it was like all he could think about was you. he had never ever felt this way about anyone. i'm going insane, he thought. 

"alright, so that wraps up the first three chapters. she'll be testing us on only chapters 1-5 so you're lucky. i'd recommend reviewing what we went over together just in case and we can meet up on monday if you want?" you asked. 

"yea no of course," sunghoon answered. "actually why don't i give you my number," he muttered, scribbling his number down on a sheet of paper. 

he ripped it off and handed it to you with a grin. "thanks for everything today y/n, you're a lifesaver."

"yeah, you're welcome," you replied quickly, looking away before he realized just how nervous you were. 

of course, he didn't notice though. he was worried that you would notice how nervous he was. and worried about teaching himself chapters 1-3 since he was being an idiot and wasn't paying attention. 

"i'll just uh text you when i get back to my dorm." you gave him a little smile and a wave before you left. 

thinking about sunghoon once again, you suddenly couldn't wait until monday.

—-------

friday you arrived at your class with sunghoon, a slight skip in your step. you sat in your usual seat, slightly awaiting his arrival (not that you’d ever tell him). as the start of class started to near, you found yourself looking for sunghoon, wondering where he was. 

you thought of texting him, picking up your phone to ask him where he was, but suddenly stopped yourself. no, you were not going to fold. you barely knew sunghoon, and just because he bought you coffee once doesn’t mean anything. 

just as your professor was getting started, you heard the door open, glancing over to see sunghoon hastily walk over to the seat beside you, two cups of coffee in hand. 

“sorry i was running late, i went to grab coffee for us and it was crazy busy at the cafe,” he whispered as he started to take his notes out. 

he handed you your cup, your exact order sitting before you. “sunghoon, you really didn’t have to.” 

he was now searching his bag for a pen, a pencil, hell even a highlighter to write his notes with. he had never cared for this class, but for some reason he wanted to impress you. “yeah yeah, i know i’m the greatest, do you have a pen by any chance?” 

“oh wow look at you sunghoon, i don’t think i’ve ever seen you care about this class so much,” you grinned, handing him a pencil from your bag. “but seriously, thanks. you don’t have to buy me coffee everyday.”

“it’s no biggie, we’re friends, aren’t we?” sunghoon smiled at you. he usually said this to girls to get in their pants, but with you, he meant it. he found himself wanting to be sincere and honest whenever he was with you. “and plus, you’re a saint for helping me study.”

he wanted to throw up with how sickeningly sweet you made him feel. 

“sure,” you replied, turning back to the lecture. 

you didn’t believe sunghoon. he may be pretty, but not pretty enough for you believe everything he said. he reminded you of your ex– willing to say and do anything to get what he wanted. sure, sunghoon hadn’t done anything bad to you, yet. you weren’t quite sure what sunghoon wanted, but you weren’t going to be one of his victims. you refused to be. 

“hey do you want to get dinner tonight? give us a break from studying?” he whispered. 

“dinner? oh how forward of you sunghoon, if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you liked me,” you chuckled, not bothering to look up from the notes you were taking.

“who said i didn’t?”

you turned your head to see he was already looking at you, a small smile on his face. he had to be lying, you deduced. he hadn’t even known your name three weeks ago and it’s not like the class you were in was huge. there was maybe less than 30 kids present. 

sunghoon himself felt a little nervous as the words slipped. he wasn’t sure why though. sunghoon had been in this situation millions of times, and he was always successful in getting what he wanted, so why the hell were you making him nervous?

“yeah whatever,” you shrugged him off. “if you like me so much, pick me up at 8.” 

“it’s a date.”

he was so quick with his flirtatious responses. too quick, you thought. that’s how you know he’s done this countless times. “whatever sunghoon, don’t make it weird, we’re just friends.”

“right…” he trailed off. friends? he pretty much asked you on a date and you friendzoned him? of course sunghoon could just stop pursuing you, but oh how he liked a challenge (and your smile and perfume and your laugh and the sound of your voice). 

you on the other hand, could feel your palms starting to sweat as you thought of your (somewhat?) date with sunghoon. what were you going to wear, where would you go to eat, what did he want with you, was this even a real date?

—--------

sitting at your local thai restaurant, silence surrounded you and sunghoon as you sipped on your thai tea. you had spent the past hour getting to know each other, talking about your classes, your friends, your families. you talked about your favorite movies, foods, music. at this point, you felt like you knew everything about him. you were the only people left in the restaurant, your food waiting to be boxed up.

“hi, i’ll take the check,” you said to your server as they dropped off some to-go boxes. 

“oh, it was already taken care of.”

you shot a betrayed look at sunghoon as your server walked away, telling you to have a nice night! “sunghoon, i told you i’d take care of the bill,” you huffed, packing up your food. 

“this is a date, y/n. a date that i asked you on, i’m not gonna let you pay,” sunghoon responded, as if this were obvious. “you can pay for our next date.”

“whatever,” you replied, trying to hide the small smile creeping on your face. 

“oh, so this is a date?” sunghoon asked, eyebrow raised. 

“i didn’t say that.”

“okay but you didn’t deny it when i called it that.”

you chose to ignore what he said. 

“and you didn’t say no when i brought up a second one?”

“oh in your dreams, hoon.”

hoon? you were already on a nickname basis? sunghoon thought. hearing his name come from your mouth had to be the most beautiful thing he ever heard. 

“come on, let me take you out again,” he pleaded, pouting. you sat for a moment in thought. 

“i’ll think about it.” 

“how come you don’t have a boyfriend already?” sunghoon asked. 

“not trying to say you’re like undateable or anything,” he rambled after he glanced up at you. “i just mean, a girl as great as you, i don’t see how you aren’t taken already.”

a minute passed, and then two as you tried to figure out if you wanted to dive into your baggage with the boy sitting in front of you. you decided that sunghoon really wasn’t as bad as you thought. not a bad enough person to make fun of you, at least.

“yea well, with a cheating ex boyfriend, it’s kinda hard for me to get back into dating. now i just feel like every guy i meet is gonna fuck me over somehow, you know? it’s just hard to find someone new when the last time i fell in love, i got my heart stomped on.” 

sunghoon let your words process in his mind, watching as you swirled the straw in your cup around, almost absentmindedly as you sat in thought. you hated feeling vulnerable. you don’t think you told anyone but jungwon about your ex. as you glanced up at sunghoon, you saw his gaze soften. 

“i get that,” he responded. “i was also cheated on.”

you looked at him quizzically, because who was dumb enough to cheat on park sunghoon? sure, he was a little annoying and cocky sometimes, and he was a player. but he seemed nice and funny, and he was rich and good looking. he was almost the complete package. if anything, you expected him to be the cheater. 

you immediately felt guilty after that thought, feeling that maybe you had judged sunghoon too soon.

“yea it was back in high school and um,” he paused, trying to gather his thoughts. you waited patiently as he did so, taking a sip of your drink. 

“she was my everything at the time. i mean, i know i was in high school, but i thought i would like, end up marrying her,” he continued with a dry chuckle. “but then i found out she was hooking up with some guy from a different school. i caught them at a party she thought i couldn’t go to. i know dating around is a horrible way to cope with heartbreak, but i can’t get my heart broken again if i break the other person’s heart first, right?” 

you sat in silence for a bit. you started to feel a bond start to form between the two of you as you let what he said sink in. maybe sunghoon was right about how dating around wasn’t good, but at least he’s self aware! he just didn’t want to get hurt, and in a way, didn’t that make him like you?

you reached your hand across the table to hold onto his out of comfort, sending tingles throughout his body as he looked up at you,“i’m sorry, hoon. it sucks, i know. and thanks for sharing this with me. you can always talk to me about anything anytime, okay?”

a small smile formed on his face as he looked at you; so caring, so understanding, so perfect. 

“hey, y/n, sunghoon!” you heard a familiar voice exclaim. you could recognize that voice from anywhere, you realized as you turned to see jake making his way towards you. jungwon followed behind him, eyebrows raised at the sight of you and sunghoon together outside of a school setting. you quickly retracted your hand from his, fixing your hair, tucking your hair behind your ears. 

this didn’t go unnoticed by sunghoon, who felt a twinge of jealousy. just when he thought he had make a break through, here comes jake.

“what a coincidence bumping into you guys!” jake smiled. “i didn’t know you guys knew each other.” 

“oh yea, it seems like you know each other very well,” jungwon replied suggestively. you had never wanted to beat jungwon up so bad in your entire life. “are you guys here on a date?”

“no.”

“yes.” 

you and sunghoon both answered at the same time. you could feel sunghoon’s betrayed gaze on you as your face started to warm up. “no, we’re not on a date, we’ve just been studying so much we figured we’d get some dinner as a reward. as friends. because that’s what sunghoon and i are, just friends.” 

you felt your face get even warmer as you rambled on, wishing someone would stop you from talking. 

“oh okay!” jake exclaimed. “well jungwon and i were just picking up some food, and we were gonna head to my apartment if you guys wanted to stop by after your dinner? we’re doing a movie night.”

you glanced over at sunghoon, taking a second to try to decipher what he was thinking. you could tell he was upset that you said you weren’t on a date, but to be fair, was this even really a date? you were still trying to figure that out yourself.

“uh, no thanks jake. sunghoon and i are probably going out for dessert after this,” you replied. 

sunghoon’s head snapped up. you were saying no to hanging out with jake?

you on the other hand, had remembered what jungwon had told you earlier this week– how you shouldn’t put all of your eggs in jake’s basket. jungwon seemed to remember this as well as he gave you a smile and a small thumbs up. you only smiled and shook your head in response. 

being with sunghoon tonight just felt so right. in every way possible. you wanted to see where this would lead. sunghoon didn’t seem as bad as everyone else painted him out to be. 

“oh well that’s alright, there’s always some other time,” jake replied. “we’ll get going then, see you later guys!”

you waved the duo goodbye and waited until they were out of earshot before you turned to sunghoon. “so, wanna get ice cream or something? i’ll pay this time.”

“no, it’s okay,” sunghoon shook his head in response. “i think i’m just gonna go home, go to bed early.”

was that hurt that you saw on his face?

“hoon, i’m sorry-,”

“no, it’s okay,” he replied. “this wasn’t a date anyways, right? no hard feelings at all.”

there were hard feelings, you could tell. “i’ll drive you back to your dorm.”

as hurt as sunghoon was, he wasn’t going to let you walk home alone in the middle of the night. 

the car ride was quick. you felt like the drive home was faster than the drive to the restaurant, but you weren’t sure if it was because sunghoon didn’t want to be in the same space as you, or if you were simply overthinking.

there was a tense silence surrounding you as he pulled into your dorm building parking lot. “thanks for tonight hoon, i had fun,” you finally said as he put his car into park. “i guess i’ll see you monday? so that we can go over chapters 4 and 5?” 

your heart raced at the thought of seeing him again, your fingers moving to fiddle with the little charm you had hanging off your tote bag. you were nervous. you hadn’t even left his car yet and you were already getting excited to see him again. 

“i actually think i’ll be okay,” sunghoon responded, avoiding eye contact with you. “i’ll just see you in class.”

“oh,” you replied. you felt a wave of disappointment hit you as you unbuckled your seatbelt. “well then i’ll see you around.” 

sunghoon watched to make sure you got inside safely before backing out of his parking spot, driving back in the direction of his apartment. 

he felt like maybe he was acting a bit overdramatic, but he couldn’t help the hurt he felt when you were flirting with him not even two minutes before jake showed up, and then you wanted to act like you were nothing more than study buddies. or in your words, just friends! he was vulnerable with you, and he felt like maybe there was something between you now.

apparently not, he thought bitterly.

sunghoon knew he shouldn’t feel so hurt, because at the end of the day, he didn’t have the best intentions when he approached you at yeonjun’s party. he felt guilt wash over him as he remembered what you said about your ex, and then thought of the bet he had made with heeseung.

maybe this was a bad idea after all, he thought. sunghoon had never cared for any of the girls he met before you, and now suddenly you were all he cared about; he wore his nicest clothes when he knew he’d see you, spray his fancy cologne, do his hair extra nice. he’d even went out of his way every morning to get you his favorite coffee even though your favorite cafe was in the opposite direction of your school. 

oh, sunghoon had it bad. 

—--------

sunghoon had been avoiding you since your (sorta) date. you still weren’t even sure what it was, you just knew that being with him was fun. he was nicer than you thought he’d be, and he was really funny. to say you were surprised was an understatement. you had even had the same taste in music and movies. it felt like he was you in another body.

monday had rolled by and just as sunghoon said, he didn’t show up to the library. he didn’t even sit next to you in class earlier that day. you had tried to wave him over to take the seat next you, tried to catch up with him in the halls, but he had just avoided your gaze and sped-walked away. 

of course, any kind of rejection would hurt, but you took a hard blow to this especially. you weren’t sure why. you didn’t know sunghoon for long, but you never felt so close to someone in such a short span of time. you don’t think you’ve felt this way since your ex.

thursday, you sat in your usual spot at the library, doing some last minute cramming for your midterm the next day. it was late at night, and you had been studying for hours on end. you decided you studied enough, and that there was only so much you could do, as you started to pack your laptop and notebooks into your bag. 

“hey,” you heard a familiar voice say in front of you. 

you looked up and saw sunghoon, out of breath. 

“hey.”

“sorry, give me a second, i ran here from your dorm.”

“how’d you know i’d be here?” you asked as you put your bag on. 

“your roommate told me where you were after i wouldn’t stop knocking on your door. and i knew the library closed soon and i just needed to see you now, before i regret not saying this.” 

“hoon, the library’s open all night now, they changed the hours like a month ago. what did you need to say-,”

“i’m sorry about how our date ended,” he cut you off. 

“okay wait, i’m not sorry for being hurt,” he backtracked. “but i am sorry about how i handled it. i just haven’t been on a serious date in a long time. so when you were talking to jake, i got jealous and i was hurt that you said that we were just friends, when to me it felt like we had something more. i should’ve told you then, like an adult, instead of icing you out, and i’m sorry.”

you felt guilt wash over you as you remembered how you acted, “hoon i’m really-,” 

“wait, let me finish first, please,” he interrupted yet again. you only nodded in response as he continued. “i was wondering why i was so hurt, and it dawned on me that i like you, a lot more than i thought i would. i think you’re funny, and one of the smartest and nicest people in the world if you would offer to tutor an idiot like me. i think you’re the only person i’ve wanted to take serious since high school, and i just hope that maybe you felt the same way?” 

he searched your face for a sign, any indication that you felt the same way. your expression was unreadable, still processing everything sunghoon had just said. 

at this point, everyone else in the library had left. a minute had passed, then two before sunghoon sighed. “it’s alright, you don’t have to give me an answer now.” he turned to do the walk of shame, already feeling the tips of his ears turning pink. well at least i went for it.

“wait,” you called after him, grabbing onto his wrist. he turned back around to face you, your face heating up as you continued. “i’m sorry for the way i acted. i was being an idiot. i think that night was the most fun i’ve had in a while, and i don’t think i’ve ever been so comfortable with someone who wasn’t jungwon. i just panicked when jake and jungwon saw us together, and i am so so sorry. i’m sorry if i made you feel like i was leading you on.” 

you don’t think you ever felt your heart beat so fast, and you really hoped your hands weren’t sweaty. you’ve never felt so nervous in your life, and you felt terrible for how you made sunghoon feel. you felt like the guilt was going to eat you alive if he didn’t forgive you. 

“it’s alright, i forgive you,” sunghoon smiled, much to your relief. god, his smile was perfect. 

“good,” you smiled, a sigh of relief escaping your lips. 

“you didn’t tell me if you felt the same way,” sunghoon responded.

you interlocked your fingers with his, hoping your hands weren’t as clammy as you thought they were, “i thought it was obvious.”

“apparently not obvious enough,” sunghoon grinned. 

—--------

it had been six months since that day and you were the happiest girl in the world. sunghoon was everything you ever wanted in a partner. nice, smart, funny. not only did he treat you well, but he also treated your family well. visiting your parents with him, he always helped clean up after dinner, always brought a bouquet of flowers for your mother, always helped your dad with anything he needed. 

everything was perfect. you even thought you were falling in love with him. you didn’t tell sunghoon this just yet though, out of fear that he didn’t feel the same way. 

you decided tonight would be the night though. after a night out with friends you were spending the night at sunghoon’s apartment, and that was when you would tell him, in the comfort of his home. to you, it didn’t have to be a big proclamation, it didn’t have to be at some fancy dinner or at some fancy event. to you, it was all about the little things, and as long as you were with sunghoon, nothing else mattered. 

so here you were, laughing at some joke heeseung had just made. the night was coming to an end, the rest of your friends had already left, leaving you and sunghoon alone with heeseung in his apartment. 

this wasn’t the first time you had hung out with sunghoon’s friends. they were all nice and funny, despite their horrendous reputations around campus. you found that just like sunghoon, they grew on you over time.

“you ready to go, my love?” sunghoon asked you. 

“yea, i just need to run to the bathroom before we go,” you answered, giving his hand a little squeeze before getting up. 

once heeseung heard the bathroom door close, he pretended to gag. “god, you guys are so gross.” 

“whatever,” sunghoon rolled his eyes. “i think you’re just jealous.”

these past six months have been the best of sunghoon’s life. he didn’t think he was even capable of being this happy. he loved you; every single thing about you. you were the sun that he revolved around and the air that he breathed. you were his everything. 

“so when are you gonna dump her?” heeseung asked, snapping sunghoon out of his thoughts of you. heeseung asked this so casually, as if he didn’t just ask when sunghoon would break up with the love of his life. 

“what are you talking about?”

“dude, do you not remember how this whole thing even started?” heeseung chuckled. “i thought you were just with her for our bet.”

“no that’s not-,”

“you won, by the way. honestly, i was scared you’d bring the bet back up, but now that hockey’s over i don’t think i’ll mind doing your laundry too much.” heeseung cut him off. “she is completely in love with you. like, she looks like she’d do anything for you man. now that you’ve won, you can just dump her. wasn’t that what you were gonna do anyways?”

sunghoon heard heeseung’s front door open and close, the sound of rapid footsteps following it immediately after. 

you had heard what heeseung had said. 

“fuck,” sunghoon muttered. he raced to grab his things and to follow after you, ignoring whatever else heeseung had to say. nothing else in the world mattered now, because how the fuck was sunghoon going to explain this to you?

you, on the other hand, felt like an idiot. of course park sunghoon wasn’t actually into you. of course you were a bet because what other reason could there be? you weren’t some fabulous daughter of a ceo, you weren’t a division one athlete, you weren’t even top of your class. nothing about you stood out, so why would he want to be with you of all people? 

“y/n please,” you heard sunghoon shout after you. you chose to ignore him, hearing rapid footsteps as he jogged to catch up to you, “y/n, stop please.” 

his hand wrapped around your wrist. you hated that even now, your heart fluttered as you heard your name leave his mouth, butterflies in your stomach at the physical contact of his hand around yours. 

“i know you’re mad at me, but let me drive you home.”

“i’d rather walk then get in a car with you, park sunghoon,” you snapped, snatching your hand out of his. he shrinked at the sound of his full name coming out of your mouth. you hadn’t called him that since before your first date. 

it started to drizzle at this point, and you weren’t sure if what you felt on your face was the rain or your own tears. 

“you’re so full of yourself. all you know is how to manipulate and hook up with whoever throws themself at you. you’re nothing but a pathetic loser who doesn’t know how to love because no one’s ever loved you.”

“but i thought you loved me,” he breathed, his eyes searching yours. of course, this wasn’t something that was spoken upfront. it was never confirmed by you, but you didn’t need to say it. he just knew that you loved him because he loved you. he was desperate now, eyes searching all over your face for some sort of confirmation, a small smile, a nod, anything, that indicated that you loved him. 

a wave of deja vu washed over the two of you, the moment almost exactly mirroring your moment at the library; the lingering touches, the desperate gazes. that was one of the happiest days of your life, and now you didn’t even know if sunghoon meant what he said that day or if he was just saying what you wanted to hear. how the fuck did the two of year get here?

“i don’t love you sunghoon. i never did and i never will. you’re an idiot if you think i’d love someone like you.”

you felt sick to your stomach. you didn’t mean what you were saying. it was like you couldn’t stop the words coming from your mouth, like you weren’t even in control of your own body. the words escaped your mouth so fast you couldn’t even process what you were saying. you couldn’t even register the guilt you were feeling until you took in sunghoon’s hurt expression; eyes wide with tears, nose starting to turn red and stuffy. 

“oh,” he replied, so softly that you could barely hear him. 

he sounded so small now, a stark contrast to how he seemed; tall, confident, outspoken. now he was like a lost little boy, and your heart physically felt like it was hurting knowing you were the one that made him feel this way.

it had started pouring by this point. you were gonna get sick if you stayed out in the rain, sunghoon thought. even when you were tearing his heart out, all he could think of was you. all he cared about was you. 

“i see how it is then, y/n,” he started to back away from you, eyes searching yours once again, giving you one final chance to take back what you said. he thought you had loved him, and he was so so sure he felt the same, because why else did it feel like his heart was being stepped on? why else did he feel like jumping off the face of the earth? why else did he feel so hurt?

“sunghoon i didn’t-,”

“yes you did,” he cut you off. “you meant all of it. and you were right. all i do is manipulate and hook up with people, but you? you are- were,” he corrected himself, taking a deep breath between words.  “you were the realest relationship i’ve ever had.” 

you took a deep breath as you felt yourself start to sob, your vision blurring as sunghoon continued, “i shouldn’t have made that stupid bet with heeseung, and i apologize for that. what we had might have started off fake, but trust me when i say that somewhere along the line, i really did fall for you. it was like one day you were suddenly everywhere; you’re the earth that keeps me grounded, you’re in every love song i listen to and you’re the air that i breathe. you’re my everything, y/n.”

you were never one to cry, but now you were bawling your eyes out, wanting so so desperately to tell sunghoon that you felt the same way, that he was your everything, that he was the only person for you, that he wasn’t perfect, but perfect for you. that he was made for you and you were made for him and that you forgave him and you loved him and all you wanted to do was be with him.

but how could you believe him? after what you found out tonight how could you know he wasn’t just lying to your face again? you felt like your head was spinning and you had a thousand thoughts running through your mind at once. you wanted to hug him, kiss his tears away, tell him that you loved him, that everything will be fixed and everything will be okay. 

instead of doing so, you stood your ground.

 “goodbye sunghoon.”

sunghoon let you walk away, despite the fact that he felt like he was dying. your goodbye sounded so final, you were slipping away and sunghoon was going to let you. he was letting you walk away because he loved you. god, he loved you more than the moon loved the stars and more than romeo had loved juliet. he loved you so much that he realized that he wasn’t good for you. that in order for you to be happy, he would have to disappear from your life. 

which is exactly what he did. 

—--------

a month had passed, and jungwon was begging you to go to yeonjun’s end of the year party.

you had kept to yourself after the breakup, focusing on your studies, basically living at the library now. you avoided heeseung and sunghoon, and everytime you had heard one of their names being mentioned by your peers, you simply tuned it out, not wanting to hear if sunghoon had already moved on or not. 

you were still not over sunghoon. it hurt hearing his name, hurt seeing old pictures of you two together, even thinking about him ruined the remainder of your day. you knew you were supposed to be mad at him. he lied to you, he betrayed your trust, he dated you for a bet. all of this made you feel guilty for missing him. 

you missed waking up next to him, you missed taking his dog on walks together. you missed visiting your parents together (who you didn’t have the heart to tell that you and sunghoon were no longer dating), you missed going out to that thai restaurant every friday night, and you missed fighting with him over who would pay the bill. you missed the way he looked at you, the way he’d play with your hair until you fell asleep. you missed his everything. 

yet here jungwon was, dragging you out of your dorm after finally convincing you to go to yeonjun’s party. “you know what they say! the only way to get over somebody is to hook up with somebody else.”

“i doubt i’m going home with anyone tonight,” you scoffed as you arrived to yeonjun’s house, the sound of music being heard through the front door. “you know i suck at having one night stands.”

“even if you don’t, i just want you to have fun,” jungwon replied earnestly. “i haven’t seen you happy in a while. you deserve to be.” 

you felt tears prick your eyes at his kind words, which you blinked away, “whatever, let’s just get to partying!”

an hour in, and you were already regretting your decision to come. you had lost jungwon somewhere in the crowd, and you didn’t have the energy to look around for him. yeonjun’s house was so big that there was no way you could find jungwon on your first try. 

you instead opted to explore the house you were in until you stumbled upon a bedroom which was (thankfully) empty. 

this is probably yeonjun’s room, you thought as you sat on the edge of his bed, making sure you didn’t mess up his sheets. as you looked around at the decor yeonjun had hung up on his walls, you heard the door open. 

your eyes met sunghoon’s and it was almost like the wind got knocked out of you. you didn’t need to look at the rest of him to know it was him. you knew his eyes from anywhere.

breaking eye contact, you studied the rest of him. he looked as good as ever, not a single hair out of place. 

“hey,” you said lamely, watching as his face sunk as he looked at you. ouch. “i can leave if you want, if you’re like, looking to hook up with someone or something.” those words physically pained you to say. leaving a room you were hiding in first so that your ex boyfriend could hook up with someone else? it sounded pathetic.

you started to grab your drink and your bag before sunghoon stopped you. “no it’s okay, i just needed to get away from the party and i was just spooked to see you. i didn’t think i’d see you again. and plus, i haven’t been seeing anyone since us.” 

us. you felt your heart squeeze a bit at the single word. you were so sure that sunghoon would start seeing other people after your breakup, and you felt like a loser for rotting in bed while you assumed he was out with other people. 

“oh,” you muttered.

you sat in silence for a bit, with you sat on the edge of the bed, and sunghoon stood by the door, looking as if he’d leave whenever you wanted him to.

“you can come sit if you want,” you patted the bed beside you. “there’s enough room for both of us.”

sunghoon raised his eyebrow in question but didn’t hesitate to sit beside you, his familiar cologne hitting you. 

“hoon, i miss you.”

sunghoon wasn’t sure if you meant what you were saying or if you had one too many drinks. he didn’t want to get his hopes up. 

“are you sure you haven’t had too much to drink?” he chuckled dryly.

“no, this is just sprite, i didn’t wanna get too drunk, i have a final i still need to study for,” you responded. 

the awkward tension sitting between the two of you made you want to jump out a window. things were never awkward between you and sunghoon before and you hated that it was awkward now. fuck, why isn’t he saying anything? you thought. does he not miss me? this is so embarrassing. 

before you could stop yourself, just like the night of your break up, you suddenly started talking faster than your brain could process.

“i’m sorry for what i said the last time we saw each other. i was hurt and i also felt betrayed that you would do that to me because i loved you and you knew about my ex, so it kinda felt like a slap to the face,” you rambled. “but i miss you. there hasn’t been a day that i haven’t missed you, hoon.”

sunghoon didn’t know what to say. he felt like he was dreaming. you missed him?

“you loved me?” sunghoon asked instead, not believing his ears. he needed to hear you say it again, needed to hear those three words fall from your lips one more time. he needed this reassurance that his feelings were reciprocated.  

“i still love you, i think. it’s just hard for me to fall for you again when things ended the way they did,” you continued. “hoon, if we do this again, i need you to be honest with me. about everything.”

he slowly inched his hands toward yours, scared that if he moved too fast you’d leave. when he saw you weren’t moving away, he grasped your hands in his, the feeling of your hands interlocked was the feeling he had missed most of all. 

“i promise things will be different this time,” he said earnestly, his eyes searching yours for any sort of uncertainty at the words he spoke. “i meant every single thing i said that night. i love you y/n, with every fiber of my being. i know we can’t immediately go back to the way things were, but i will do everything i can to gain your trust back. i’ll get on my knees right now and start begging if i have to.”

“well that doesn’t seem like a bad idea,” you teased. “do you really love me?” 

“i thought it was obvious.”

“apparently not obvious enough.”

[fqirysim]

reblogging to say thank you guys for reading this!! all the likes and reblogs are appreciated and I love you all so much ☹️☹️

[sunny-sourzii]

I made a "which mutual am I" thing so here you go💥💥💥

This was fun to make actually :]

[avemikesszz]

[fqirysim]

LITERALLY ME WITH PRESS PLAY OMG

[glassfrogforest]