mimi

☆ MATURE CONTENT

[wonarchy]

STRICTLY "BUSINESS" — Y.JW

ʚɞ pairing : nerd!jungwon x f!reader (feat. sunghoon of enhypen, yunah, minju, and wonhee of illit, wonbin of riize)

ʚɞ synopsis : in which yn needs the ultimate distraction to get her toxic ex off her back, and the school's cold academic club president is the prefect candidate for a fake relationship. the terms are strictly business, and the rules are clear. but when things get too real, neither of them know how to continue acting.

ʚɞ genre : fake dating, fluff, highschool!au (not proofread im so sorry)

ʚɞ wc : 14.3k

ʚɞ author's note : finally the long awaited nerd!won ficcccc. im so sry for taking long with this one. i had dozens of ideas for this specific pairing and i ended up switching like three times before finally settling on this one. i apologize if this seems rushed or like fast paced... ALSOO no hate for wonbin, he might be the culprit here but i have nothing against him at all. hope u all enjoy ♡

the words "i just really need to focus on myself right now, yn" were still ringing in your ears.

it had been exactly a week since wonbin sat you down by the school bleachers, looking terribly conflicted, and told you that he just didn't have the emotional bandwidth for a relationship. he claimed his classes were getting heavy, that he was tired of the constant emotional upkeep of dating, and that he needed to find himself.

you had cried. you had felt guilty for taking up his precious time. you had genuinely believed him.

which was exactly why the sight currently unfolding in front of you in the courtyard felt like a literal slap in the face.

there was wonbin. and braced against his side, laughing at something he muttered, was minju. wonbin wasn't looking tired of relationships at all. in fact, he looked perfectly energized as he reached down, tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, and intertwined his fingers with hers.

"are you kidding me?" your best friend, yunah, hissed from beside you. "he needed to fucking 'focus on himself'? is minju's name 'himself' now?"

your sadness evaporated in a single, scorching second, replaced by a wave of pure fury. your blood ran hot. it wasn't just the heartbreak anymore—it was the humiliation. he had played you for a fool, expecting you to sit around and pine while he easily moved into his next romance without missing a beat.

"he thinks i'm going to be just the sad ex who cries in the bathroom," you muttered, eyes following wonbin as he smiled at something minju said.

"what are you going to do?" yunah asked, looking at you with a mix of worry and excitement. "please tell me we're keying his car."

"no," you said, a dangerous plan instantly forming in your mind. "that gets us suspended. i need to hurt his pride. he thinks he's the best i can do? he think i'm going to spend the next month miserable? i'm going to show him exactly how fast i can move on."

yunah scoffed, "with who? every guy in our circle is friends with him. if you pick one of them, it'll just look like a messy rebound trap."

"then i won't pick someone from our circle," you responded simply.

your eyes scanned past the soccer field, past the popular kids crowding the benches, and landed on the quiet, shaded steps of the old building.

sitting there, completely unfazed by the lunchtime chaos, was yang jungwon.

he wasn't the type of nerd who hid in the back of the class making no eye contact. jungwon was the top of the class, the model student, and the president of the academic club. he was sharply dressed, his school blazer always perfectly pressed, and he carried himself with a quiet confidence that kept people from bothering him.

he was attractive, but in a structured, untouchable way. he simply didn't care about drama, which made him invisible to the popular crowd.

"jungwon?" yunah followed your gaze and gasped. "yang jungwon? the guy who corrected the calculus teacher last week? yn, he doesn't even look at girls. he looks at math equations."

"exactly," you said, a slow smirk spreading across your face. "he's perfect. no one would ever expect it. it'll drive wonbin insane trying to figure out how a guy like jungwon took his place."

"he's never going to agree to it. he doesn't do favors," yunah warned.

"everyone has a price, yunah," you muttered, turning on your heel and walking toward the old building. "i just have to find out what his is."

the old building was completely different from the loud, chaotic courtyard. it smelled like dusty book and whiteboard markers, and the hallway was dead silent.

you pushed open the heavy wooden door to the academic clubroom. the small click of the latch echoed loudly in the silent space.

sitting at the very back table, under the pale glow of the sun, was jungwon. he didn't look up immediately. he was leaning over a massive textbook, a pen moving smoothly across a sheet of grid paper. he looked like the definition of a model student.

you walked over, sneaker squeaking slightly on the floor, and stopped right in front of his desk.

jungwon capped his pen with a quiet click. he slowly lifted his head, sharp eyes blinking once, then twice, as he looked at you. there was no surprise on his face. he didn't get flustered seeing a popular student council member in his quiet room. he just looked at you like you were a minor distraction.

"are you lost?" he asked. his voice was calm and completely flat. "sorry, but this isn't the drama club."

"i'm not lost. i'm exactly where i want to be," you said, crossing your arms and trying to look confident, even though your heart was still hammering from the anger you felt. "i'm here for you, jungwon."

jungwon looked down at his watch, then back up at you. "you have exactly seven minutes left of lunch break. make it quick."

you took a deep breath, deciding to just lay it all out. "i need you to be my fake boyfriend."

the room went silent. jungwon didn't gasp, didn't blush, but stared at you for a long five seconds with his expression blank. then, he picked his pen back up, uncapped it, and looked back down at his book. "no," he answered.

"wait, what? you didn't even let me explain," you protested, leaning your hands on the edge of his desk.

"i don't need an explanation, yn," he responded, writing down another formula without skipping a beat. "playing pretend boyfriend is a waste of time. it doesn't help my grades, it doesn't look good on my college applications, and honestly, i don't care about whatever drama you have going on with wonbin."

your jaw dropped. "how do you even know about wonbin?"

"everyone knows. you guys are loud," he muttered, still not looking at you. "now, please leave. i need to finish this practice test before next period."

you bit your lip. yunah had been right. jungwon wasn't the type of guys you could just charm into doing a favor. he was like a wall of pure logic. but luckily, you had a secret weapon. you let out a soft laugh. "that's a real shame, jungwon. i guess you won't care about the student council's budget meeting next week either."

the pen paused. jungwon didn't move, but you could tell he was listening.

"what are you talking about?" he asked quietly.

"i'm the social media chair for the student council, remember?" you smirked. "i sit in on all the official meetings. yesterday, the treasurer went over the budget requests for next semester. i saw your club was on the list. you asked for quite a lot of money for a national competition and new math software."

jungwon slowly set his pen down and finally looked up. "go on."

"the request got rejected," you pouted, watching his expression carefully. "the treasurer said your club has zero student engagement. nobody joins, nobody comes to your events, and your social media page hasn't been updated since last year. the school thinks your club is dead weight. if things stay like this, they're cutting your funding completely by the end of the month."

his posture stiffened. you could tell this actually hit a nerve. he cared about this club more than anything.

"that's unfair," he frowned. "we do actual work here. we shouldn't lose our budget just because we don't throw parties like the sports teams."

"fair or not, that's how high school works," you replied, tilting your head. "but... i can fix it for you. i know exactly how to make this club look like the place to be. i can create a whole social media campaign, get people talking, and bring in new members. by two or three weeks, your engagement numbers will be so high the school won't have any choice but to give you the money."

jungwon leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. he looked at you, eyes scanning your face. "and in exchange, i have to pretend to date you so you can make your ex jealous."

"exactly," you nodded. "a simple trade. i save your club, you help me bruise wonbin's ego. it's a win-win."

jungwon was silent for a moment. you could practically see the gears turning in his head as he weighed the pros and cons. finally, he let out a soft sigh and shook his head with a tiny, reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his lips. he tore a clean sheet of paper out of his notebook, picked up his pen, and began to write.

"rule number one, no real feelings. this is a deal to get what we both need," he stated. "rule number two, we don't do pda unless it's necessary. and rule number three, don't text me after ten."

he spun the sheet around so it faced you. "sounds fair?" he asked with an easygoing smile plastered on his face.

you stared at the written rules, eyes scanning his neat handwriting. It felt surreal. just ten minutes ago, you were stressing out at your locker, and now you are signing a relationship "contract" with yang jungwon.

"fair," you muttered, picking up the pen and scribbling your signature at the bottom of the page. "but i have one condition to add."

jungwon tilted his head, "which is?"

"if wonbin or any of his friends try to slide a slick comment my way, you can't just stand there and ignore it. you have to actually act like you care," you said, handing the pen back to him. "a real boyfriend wouldn't just let his girlfriend get trash-talked."

jungwon took the pen and didn't hesitate as he wrote Rule #4 : Mutual Defense Protocol at the bottom of the sheet, signing his own name right next to yours.

the bell for the next class suddenly rang through the hallways, breaking the quiet tension in the room. you smiled, taking the pen back from him and stepping toward the door.

"i'll text you tonight, jungwon," you called out with a wink.

as the heavy wooden door clicked shut behind you, a rush of pure satisfaction washed over you. wonbin wanted to see you miserable? he was in for a very rude awakening.

that night, you were lying flat on your back in bed, staring blankly at your bedroom ceiling. the anger from earlier today had faded into a dull, restless energy. your phone buzzed against your stomach, making you flinch.

[yunah] : did you talk to him? is the nerd officially on the payroll?

[you] : it's official!!!! we signed a literal contract lmao

setting yunah's chat aside, you opened a new message window. you stared at the unsaved phone number jungwon had quickly scribbled on a sticky note before you left the clubroom. your thumb hovered over the keyboard for a minute.

what were you even supposed to say to a guy like jungwon?

you checked the digital clock on your nightstand, a glowing 9:55 p.m. nearly blinding you.

five minutes before his 10 p.m. rule, you thought, a small smirk playing on your lips. you quickly type out a text and hit send

[you] : hey, it's yn js checking in to plan out first public appearance u awake?

you threw the phone face-down on your comforter, fully expecting him to take an hour to reply, or maybe just ignore it until the morning. but barely thirty seconds later, your phone vibrated.

[jungwon] : Yeah, I'm awake. Still studying. You have 5 minutes before rule #3 goes in effect.

you let out a soft laugh, sitting up and leaning against your headboard. he was unbelievable.

[you] : wow okay direct much look, tmrw morning is the real test wonbin always hangs out by the courtyard before the first bell rings so we need to walk in together

there was a pause. the little typing bubble appeared, disappeared, then appeared again.

[jungwon] : Do you want me to meet you at the school gate?

[you] : yes!! meet me by the bus stop at 7:45 we walk through the gates together oh and make sure ur uniform looks nice not that it doesn't usually js look like a guy who is happy to see his gf

[jungwon] : My uniform always looks nice. And I don't know what a 'happy boyfriend' looks like. Should I smile?

you stared at the text, completely amused. was he seriously asking for instructions on how to smile?

[you] : yes jungwon smiling seems like a good idea when ur dating someone js act natural don't look like ur walking to an execution

[jungwon] : Understood. I will adjust my expressions accordingly.

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn't stop the small smile growing on your face. he talked like a literal robot, but there was something oddly charming about how seriously he was taking this.

[you] : perfect :) see u at 7:45 don't be late!!!!

[jungwon] : I'm never late. It's 9:59 PM now. Goodnight, yn. The communication window is now closed.

you burst out laughing, staring at the screen as the clock strick exactly 10:00 p.m. you didn't even bother replying, knowing he probably wouldn't read it anyway.

you locked your phone and tossed it onto your nightstand, pulling the blankets up to your chin. for the first time in a week, you didn't go to sleep thinking about wonbin or the hurt in your chest. instead, your mind was completely occupied by a sharp-tongued nerd who was adjusting his schedule to fit you into it.

the next morning, your adrenaline was already running on high. you stood by the bus stop across from the school gates, shifting your weight from foot to foot.

you had spent an extra ten minutes in front of the mirror that morning, making sure your hair looked effortless and your lip tint was perfectly applies. if you were going to debut a new relationship, you had to look flawless.

you checked your phone. 7:44 a.m.

"right on time," a calm voice muttered from behind you.

you jumped slightly, turning around to see jungwon standing there. true to his word, his uniform was immaculate. his tie was perfectly centered, his blazer was buttoned, and his backpack was slung neatly over one shoulder.

"good morning to you too," you greeted. "you didn't sneak up on me on purpose, did you?"

"no. you were just staring at your phone like you were preparing for battle," he pointed out casually. "are you ready? i reviewed the courtyard layout. if your ex sits where he usually does, we'll walk past him."

you stared at him, a mixture of disbelief and amusement bubbling up inside you. "did you seriously map out a route?"

"efficiency is key, yn," he replied simply, but a tiny smirk played at his lips. "let's go."

as you both crossed the street and walked through the grand stone gates of the school, the atmosphere instantly shifted. the courtyard was packed with students chatting, laughing, and ragging their feet before the first bell.

and right there, leaning against the main brick arches just like you predicted, was wonbin. his arm was casually looped around minju's shoulders, laughing loudly at something a guy on the soccer team said.

"don't look at him," jungwon mumbled. "look at me."

you blinked, turning your head to face him. before you could say anything, he reached down. his long fingers slid against yours, his palm warm against your slightly cold skin. he squeezed your hand firmly, intertwining his fingers with yours without a single shred of hesitation.

your heart gave a violent, erratic thud against your ribs. your breath completely hitched in your throat. you looked down at your joined hands, then up at his face in pure shock.

rule number two, you thought wildly. no unnecessary touching.

jungwon didn't look flustered at all. he just leaned down slightly, tilting his head toward yours, a calm smile plastered on his face. "smile," he muttered. "you're supposed to happy, remember?"

up close, you noticed how clear his eyes were, and you could smell the faint scent of fresh laundry soap that drifted off his uniform. your hand in his felt steady, sending a warm tingle up your arm.

you didn't even have to fake the smile anymore—a genuine, slightly breathless laugh escaped your lips. right on cue, jungwon let out a soft chuckle too, his eyes crinkling at the corners. to anyone else looking, you two looked like a couple completely wrapped up in their own world, holding hands on a crisp morning.

"hey, isn't that...?" a voice from a distance said.

the loud laughter around the arches abruptly stopped. you risked a glance past jungwon's shoulder.

wonbin was staring directly at your joined hands. his arm had completely dropped from minju's shoulder. his jaw was tight, eyes slightly wide with utter confusion and irritation as he watched the school's top model student holding hands with his fresh ex-girlfriend. the look of bruised pride on his face was a work of art.

"target acquired," jungwon whispered, a sharp little dimple popping up on his cheek as he noticed wonbin's reaction. "he looks like he just swallowed a lemon."

you laughed out loud this time, feeling a massive wave of triumph wash over your chest. "you're a natural at this, jungwon."

"don't get used to it," he replied quietly.

even though you had completely walked past wonbin and entered the main hallway where the crowd thinned out, jungwon didn't immediately drop your hand. his fingers stayed securely locked with yours, his warm palm grounding as he walked you all the way to your classroom door.

only when you reached your desk did he finally let go, sliding his hand casually into his blazer pocket.

"see you at lunch, yn," he said with a small nod before turning on his heel.

by the time the fourth period bell rang, your phone was buzzing nonstop from the amount of notifications you received. yunah had texted you in all caps at least fifteen times, and a few people your wider social circle had subtly tried to ask if the rumors were true.

but the most satisfying notification was the one that didn't matter anymore. wonbin had posted a strangely moody quote on his private story. it was working.

you wrapped up your student council duties a few minutes early and headed toward the cafeteria. the loud room was already packed to the brim with students buying food, gossiping, and trading seats.

you scanned the room, eyes automatically bypassing the middle section where the popular kids and athletes usually crowded. instead, you looked toward the quiet tables near the windows.

there jungwon was, sitting alone at a four-person table, his back straight a neat bento box open in front of him. true to form, he had a small book propped up against his water bottle, his eyes scanning the words while he chewed. he looked isolated form the rest of the noisy cafeteria. at least until you walked over.

the moment you pulled out the chair across from him, you could feel the eyes burning into your back.

jungwon didn't look up immediately. he calmly chewed on his food, swallowed, and then closed his book with a quiet snap. "you're late by two minutes," he said.

"i had to drop off some paperwork at the council room." you explained, sitting down and setting your lunch tray on the table. you leaned in a little closer, lowering your voice. "did you see the hallway earlier? people are literally staring at us right now.

"i noticed. three different people in my homeroom asked me if i was being blackmailed. one of them asked if you were holding my grades hostage."

you choked on your milk, letting out a sudden laugh. "are you serious? what did you tell them?"

"i told them you fell for my brains," jungwon replied smoothly. "it seemed like the most believable lie."

before you could respond, a shadow fell over your table.

"yn?"

you froze, looking up to see wonbin standing at the edge of your table. he didn't have minju with him this time. he was alone, holding an energy drink, and his eyebrows were knitted together in a tight frown. he looked out of place standing near the quiet window tables.

"hey, wonbin," you said, keeping your voice steady. "can i help you with something?"

wonbin's eyes darted sharply from you to jungwon, who was currently taking a slow sip of his water, acting as if wonbin were invisible. "can we talk for a second? privately?" he asked, voice dropping as he leaned in slightly. "i just... i saw you this morning. with him. is this some kind of joke?"

"a joke?" you tilted your head, letting out an amused smile. "why would it be a joke?"

"because it's him," he hissed, pointing a finger vaguely toward jungwon. "i broke up with you last week, yn. you told me you were devastated. and now you're suddenly holding hands with the president of the academic club? it doesn't make any sense."

your blood started to run hot. the sheer nerve of this guy—who had literally replaced you—questioning your timeline was infuriating. you opened your mouth to snap back, but before a single word could leave your lips, someone else spoke up.

"it makes perfect sense if you could think logically."

jungwon's voice wasn't loud, but it was clear, cutting right through wonbin's words. jungwon set his water bottle down on the table with a firm thud. he didn't look angry. if anything, he looked entitely bored, which made it ten times worse for wonbin's ego.

wonbin snapped his gaze to jungwon. "what did you just say?"

"i said it's simple, wonbin," jungwon repeated, leaning back in his chair. "she was wasting her time with a guy who couldn't balance his own life, so she upgraded to someone who can. you told her you were too tired and busy for a relationship, right? well, i have plenty of time. especially for her."

you stared at jungwon, jaw dropping slightly. you had forgotten about the rule you had added yesterday. he wasn't just acting. he was completely shutting wonbin down with a calm precision that left no room for argument.

wonbin's face turned a deep shade of red. he opened his mouth to say something slick, but jungwon didn't give him the chance.

jungwon reached across the small table, his warm fingers gently wrapping around your wrist, pulling your hand into his. he didn't look at wonbin anymore, he just looked directly at you as his thumb lightly brushed against the back of your knuckles in a way that felt entirely unscripted.

"eat your lunch, yn," jungwon murmured, voice softening just enough to make your heart skip a beat.

wonbin stood there for three agonizing seconds, looking back and forth between your hands and jungwon's face. realizing he had completely lost this round, he let out and angry curse under his breath and stormed back to his friends.

your eyes locked on jungwon, who was already letting go of your hand and picking up his chopsticks.

"rule number four," he added quietly. "mutual defense protocol. did i do okay?"

you swallowed, heart hammering against your rips for a whole different reason than revenge. "uh, yeah. you did perfect."

that evening, after the final plan, your brain was completely fried. you packed your bags and walked down to the school library, which was mostly empty except for a few students studying for exams.

you found jungwon tucked away in the very back corner. he already had his laptop open, a neat notebook placed beside it, and, to your surprise, two plastic cup sitting on the wooden table. one was a plain iced americano, and the other was a cold strawberry milk.

you pulled out the chair across from him and dropped your bag onto the floor. "is that for me?" you questioned, pointing at the strawberry milk.

his hand reached out and lightly pushed the cup toward you. "you didn't get to finish yours at lunch because of the interruption. i factored it into my budget for the day," he said. your heart did a tiny flip. you picked up the sweet drink, the cold plastic cooling down your warm hands. "thanks, jungwon. that's so sweet of you."

"don't read into it," he looked up at you. "if my fake girlfriend looks miserable and dehydrated, the rumors won't hold up. now, show me what we're working with."

you rolled your eyes as you sat down and pulled out your tablet. "alright, mr. logic. let's look at your club's official page."

for the next two hours, the school drama completely melted away. you showed jungwon the analytics, pointing out how the club's old posts were just blocks of boring text and blurry photos of whiteboards.

"see? no one wants to read a text wall of theories on their feed," you pointed out, leaning over the table to give him a clearer view. "we need aesthetic shots. soft lighting, candid photos of you guys studying, maybe some fun short videos. we need to make your club look like a cozy place to hang out."

jungwon watched your fingers move across the screen, listening intently. you noticed how focused he was. he didn't interrupt you once. he actually respected your expertise the same way you respected his intelligence.

"i see," he mumbled. he looked up and for a second, he just stared at you. "you're actually really good at this."

"of course i am," you whispered back, suddenly feeling a little breathless from how close he was sitting. "i don't just post selfies, jungwon. i know what i'm doing."

"clearly," he said softly. he cleared his throat and leaned back, breaking the intense eye contact. "the library closes in ten minutes. we should continue this over the weekend. there's a quiet café near the subway station. meet me there on saturday noon?"

"a saturday date?" you teased, raising an eyebrow. "is that allowed under the contract?"

jungwon chuckled lightly. "it's a mandatory strategy meeting, yn. dress comfortably."

and on saturday, the café was warm and smelled heavily of roasted coffee beans. it was a rainy afternoon, the drops tapping softly against the windows. you walked in wearing an oversized sweater and jeans, scanning the room until you spotted a familiar dark-haired boy sitting by the window.

jungwon was wearing a casual black hoodie, looking different without his stiff school uniform, he looked softer, and incredibly handsome.

as you approached the table, he looked up form his book. his eyes blinked, tracking you for a second, and his usual calm expression faltered just a tiny bit. he closed his book shut with a snap.

"hey," you smiled. "have you been waiting long?"

"no, just a few minutes," he answered, voice a little softer than usual. he cleared his throat, eyes lingering on your sweater before meeting your gaze. "you... look nice today. the sweater looks pretty on you."

your cheeks instantly flared up with a sudden, warm blush. you sat down quickly, trying to his your flustered face by adjusting your bag. "oh. thanks, jungwon. i didn't think you noticed things like clothes."

"just being observant," he murmured, a tiny bit of pink dusting the tip of his ears as he looked down at his coffee cup. "you're not wearing your blazer," you noted. he squinted his eyes playfully. "it's the weekend. even i don't wear uniform to bed."

you let out a genuine chuckle. "good to know," you said. "i kind of pictured you sleeping in a three-piece suit with a calculator in hand."

his shoulder shook a little as he laughed. "i'm a regular person, yn. i don't just eat, sleep, and breathe math equations."

as the afternoon passed, your laptops surprisingly stayed in your bags. you meant to work on the social media layout, but instead, you found yourself just talking.

you learned that jungwon disliked spicy food, loved listening to indie music, and was fiercely protective of his older sister. in return, you found yourself telling him about how stressed you were about your upcoming student council elections, and how much you feared failing people's expectations.

jungwon listened to you talk, his chin resting in his hand, eyes never leaving your face. there was no audience here. wonbin wasn't around to see. but jungwon was dialed in.

"you worry too much about what everyone else thinks," he commented quietly, breaking a short silence. his voice was gentle. "you're smart, and you work harder than anyone else in that council. you don't need to prove anything to people who don't matter."

you stared at him, heart skipping a massive beat. the smile he usually had was gone, replaced by a look of pure sincerity.

"thanks," you murmured, suddenly feeling very warm despite the chilly rain outside.

he blinked, suddenly realizing how intense the mood had gotten. he swallowed, pulling his phone out of his pocket to check the time. "it's... 4:30 already. we've been here for a while."

"we didn't even talk about the social media plan," you realized, looking at your bag.

jungwon stood up, pulling his hoodie over his head a bit more as he grabbed his things. he looked down at you, that small smirk returning to his face. "that's fine. we can call it a successful team-building exercise. see you on monday."

the next monday morning brought a weird, buzzing energy. sitting in third-period english class, you kept finding your eyes drifting toward the middle row where jungwon sat for it was the only class you had with him. but every time you remembered how soft he looked with his hoodie, or the way he murmured "the sweater looks pretty on you," your stomach did a little flutter.

"alright, quiet down," the teacher called out, clapping her hands. "for the next two weeks, we'll be doing a literature analysis project. i've already assigned your partners. look at the board."

a collective groan echoed through the room. you scanned the screen until you found your name.

yn and park sunghoon.

you blinked. sunghoon was one of wonbin's close friends from the varsity sports circle. he was effortlessly handsome, highly popular, and incredibly charismatic.

before you could even process it, sunghoon slid into the empty set next to you with a charming look on his face.

"hey, partner," he muttered, leaning his elbow on your desk. he leaned in a little closer than necessary. "looks like we're stuck together. don't worry about the heavy lifting, though, i'll handle the writing if you handle the presentation. deal?"

"oh. yeah, sure," you nodded, pulling your chair back a tiny bit to create some space. "that works."

"perfect," sunghoon pulled out his phone, sliding it across your desk with grin. "type your number in. you know, so we can... collaborate after hours."

across the classroom, the sharp snap of a lead pencil breaking echoed quietly.

you didn't notice, but it was jungwon's pencil. he stared down at his notebook, jaw tight as he stared at the broken piece of graphite. he didn't understand why his chest suddenly felt tight, or why he felt and urge to throw his notebook at the back sunghoon's head.

it's just an english project, jungwon told himself. she can talk to whoever she wants.

but as sunghoon leaned even closer, laughing at a quiet comment you made, jungwon's grip on his pen tightened until his knuckles turned white.

the moment the bell rang for lunch, sunghoon stood up, giving you a wink. "text me later."

as sunghoon walked out, jungwon was on his feet. he marched right up your desk, grabbing your bag before you could even reach for it. "hey!" you gasped. jungwon didn't say a word. he only gripped the strap, face an unreadable mask of irritation as he pulled out out into the hallway.

"jungwon, what's wrong with you?" you asked, trying to keep up with his fast strides as he led you toward the quieter hallway near the student council storage lockers. "why are you acting like this?"

he stopped abruptly, turning around to face you. "rule number four."

"what?"

"mutual defense protocol," he continued. "sunghoon is wonbin's friend. he was crowding your space on purpose to test the waters. a real boyfriend wouldn't just sit there and let another guy hit on his girlfriend right in front of him."

your frown deepened. "he was just asking for my number for the project, jungwon. were you... jealous?"

"i don't get jealous, yn. it's a useless emotion," he snapped quickly, though a faint hint of red rushed up his neck. "i'm simply executing the terms of our contract with the best i could give."

"right. the contract," you mumbled, feeling a sudden drop in your stomach.

the rest of the school day passed in a complete blur. but no matter how hard you tried to focus on your remaining classes, your mind kept looping back to the tight grip jungwon had on your bag and the tense tone of his voice.

you were still trying to untangle those thoughts after the final bell rang, having volunteered to help the council organize the old sports equipment storage room. you had also offered to lock up the room.

you clicked the padlock shut and turned around, only to freeze.

wonbin was standing at the end of the hall, hands stuffed into his pockets. he had been waiting for you.

"yn," he said, stepping forward. without his friends around, he looked less confident, but his voice still carried that annoying edge. "we need to talk."

"we have nothing to talk about, wonbin," you replied coldly before trying to walk past him.

wonbin stepped into your path, blocking the exit. "come on, stop playing games. i saw how sunghoon was looking at you during class today. and then the nerd dragged you out like he owned you. are you really going to keep up this pathetic act?"

"it's not an act," you snapped through gritted teeth, temper flaring.

"please," he scoffed, letting out a condescending laugh. "we both know you're just using him to get back at me. yang jungwon? the guy doesn't even know how to hold a conversation unless it's about studies. he's completely dry, yn. a girl like you is going to get bored of a robot like him in a week. he doesn't actually care about you. he probably doesn't even know how to care about someone."

the words stung, mostly because a small, insecure part of your brain feared he was right. you opened your mouth to yell at him, but a heavy step echoed from the stairwell.

"i know exactly how to care for what's mine," a voice cut through the tension.

you turned your head. jungwon walked out of the shadows of the stairwell. his blazer was unbuttoned, making him look surprisingly imposing. his face was completely devoid of its usual smirk. his eyes were pure, dark ice.

wonbin narrowed his eyes. "oh, look. the bodyguard arrived."

jungwon didn't even acknowledge wonbin's sarcasm. he walked straight past him, stopping right in front of you. before you could say a word, jungwon reached out. his hand slid firmly around your waist, strong fingers gripping your hip and pulling you flush against his side.

your breath caught completely in your throat. you were pressed so close to him you could feel the thud of his heartbeat. his touch was heavy and warm.

"i told you before, wonbin. my time is completely clear for her," jungwon repeated, voice dangerously low and quiet in the empty hallway. "that means i don't appreciate you cornering my girlfriend in empty halls. and i definitely don't appreciate a guy who couldn't even keep her loyalty trying to lecture me on how to treat her."

wonbin's jaw clenched, fists tightening in his pockets. he looked at jungwon's hand securely wrapped around your waist, then at how closely you were leaning to jungwon's chest. the dominance coming off jungwon was something wonbin clearly hadn't calculated.

"whatever," he backed down as his pride took another massive hit. "have fun with your charity case, yn." he turned on his heel and stormed out the back doors, slamming them behind him.

but jungwon didn't let you go.

his hand stayed firmly on your waist, keeping you anchored against him. you slowly lifted your head, eyes meeting his. his dark eyes were wide, his breathing a little shallow.

"jungwon..." you whispered, heart hammering wildly against your chest. "wonbin's gone. you can let go now."

jungwon stared down at your lips, then back up to your eyes. his fingers twitched against your waist, tightening just the littlest bit instead of releasing you. for a terrifying, beautiful second, it looked like he was going to lean down.

then, he blinked, as if suddenly waking up from a trance. he abruptly pulled his hand back, stepping half a foot away from you. he ran a hand through his hair, looking flustered for the first time since you met him.

"right," he muttered, voice slightly strained as he stared at the floor. "i'll walk you to the bus stop."

as you walked beside him in silence, you realized with absolute certainty that rule number one—no real feelings—was dead. and the scariest part?

you think jungwon knew it too.

the atmosphere in the academic clubroom the next afternoon was heavy with awkwardness. after the hallway incident yesterday, neither of you had quite figured out how to look each other in the eye.

"okay," you clapped your hands together to break the ice and setting your digital camera on the main table. "if we want to save the club's digital footprint, we need content. and since you're the club president, you will be the model."

jungwon, who had been neatly stacking books, froze. he looked at you with widened eyes. "model? yn, i am an academic competitor. i don't 'model.'"

"you do now," you smirked, pulling out a chair. "sit down. prop an open textbook in front of you and... i don't know, pretend you're reading. but look casual. don't grip the pen too tight."

jungwon let out a defeated sigh that puffed out his cheeks, but he followed your instructions anyway. he saw down, opened a thick calculus book, and gripped his pencil.

but the moment you raised the camera to your eye and looked through the viewfinder, his entire body locked up. his shoulders went completely rigid, his jaw clenched so tightly a small muscle feathered in his cheek, and he stared down at the pages like he was trying to burn a hole through the paper.

you lowered the camera, giggling. "jungwon, you look like you're under interrogation. relax your shoulders. look up at me."

he lifted his gaze. "i am relaxed. this is my studying posture."

"you look like a statue," you teased, stepping closer to the table. you leaned down slightly, the scent of his laundry soap drifting over you. "come on, yang jungwon. where's that smirk you always give me when you're quoting the contract or correcting my data? give me a little bit of that."

and for a second, his exterior completely cracked. a sudden, genuine laugh broke through his stiff expression, eyes crinkling tightly at the corners and that unmistakable dimple showing on his right cheek.

click.

"perfect!" you cheered, pulling the camera back to quickly check the screen. "see? look how good you look when you actually smile."

curiosity getting the better of him, jungwon stood up and walked around the table to stand right beside you. he leaned in close to peer at the tiny screen, his shoulder pressing firmly against yours. you could feel the heat radiating off his uniform blazer, the distance making your breath hitch.

"i look... strange," he murmured, voice low and vibrating right next to your ear.

but when you looked at him. he wasn't looking at the camera screen anymore. he was looking down at your profile, sharp eyes tracing the line of your jaw, completely focused. you swallowed, "you don't look strange. you look handsome, jungwon. the school's going to love it."

he cleared his throat, stepping back just a bit, though his eyes remained fixed on you. "if you say so. send me the drafts tonight. we need to approve the text before publishing."

"actually," you turned to face him and tapped the chair next to you. "sit. we'll filter them together right now. it saves us time."

jungwon hesitated for a split second before sitting on the chair so close that your knees occasionally brushed under the table. for the next thirty minutes, the fake relationship and the school drama completely faded into the background.

"no, we can't use that harsh white lighting," you argued, tilting the screen toward him. "it looks cold. we need a warm tone. it makes the club look cozy, like a place people actually want to spend their afternoons."

as you adjusted the settings to the picture, jungwon stayed quiet. unbeknownst to you, he was watching you rather than the camera. his head was tilted slightly, a soft expression settling over his face.

"see," you pointed at the results. "it looks comfortable somehow."

you turned your head only to find his eyes already locked on you. your fingers froze on the camera buttons. there was no audience here. wonbin wasn't hiding in the hallway, and there were no rumors to protect in an empty clubroom. but the way he was looking at you felt entirely unscripted.

he blinked furiously. "it's getting late. we should head out before the janitor locks the building."

"uh... yeah," you broke eye contact, glancing everywhere but him. and as you packed your camera into your bag, your hands were shaking just a little.

when you walked together out of the front doors, the sky had already turned a pretty shade of orange, the evening air cool against your skin after spending time in the warm room.

neither of spoke for the first few minutes, just walking side-by-side toward the main gates. but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. your shoulders occasionally brushed as you walked, and every time they did, a tiny spark of electricity seemed to bounce between you.

"the photos really turned out well," jungwon broke the silence as you both turned onto the sidewalk leading to the bus stop. "you're smart with that stuff."

"thanks," you smiled, glancing at him. "i just know what people like to see. i'll edit the best ones when i get home and type up some caption ideas."

"sounds good," he nodded, stopping as you both finally reached the bus stop shelter. "but don't send them to me via text. the quality drops too much."

you tilted your head. "then how should i show you?"

jungwon gulped, eyes briefly darting away to look at the street before meeting your gaze again. "just... video call me. facetime. that way you can share your screen and show me the edits in real-time."

you bit your lip to hid a grin. "okay. what time? you have that ten p.m. rule, remember?"

"let's do ten-thirty," jungwon said smoothly with a playful glint in his eyes. "i'll give us an official extension for club business. don't be late."

"i won't," you laughed.

right on cue, the loud hiss of brakes signaled the arrival of your bus. the large vehicle pulled up to the curb, its door sliding open with a heavy rattle. you gripped the strap of your backpack, suddenly feeling reluctant to leave. "well, that's my bus. i'll see you on screen at ten-thirty, jungwon."

"yeah," he muttered. "get home safely, yn."

you gave him one final wave, stepped onto the bus, and scanned your transit card. as the bus pulled away from the curb, you looked out the window. jungwon was still standing under the shelter, hands by his sides, waiting for your bus to leave.

by the time you arrived home, finished showering, changed into your pajamas, and ate a quick dinner, the clock on your desk read 10:20 p.m. you sat on your bed, propping your laptop on your knees and opening the editing software. the photos from earlier looked even better on the larger screen. jungwon's genuine smile radiated warmth.

you kept glancing at the bottom right corner of your screen, watching the minutes tick by.

10:27. 10:28. 10:29.

the exact second the clock flipped to 10:30 p.m., your phone began to buzz loudly against your comforter. the screen lit up with an upcoming video call from jungwon.

a nervous flutter erupted in your stomach. you quickly shook out your hair, took a deep breath, and pressed the green button to answer.

the screen stabilized, and your breath caught in your throat. jungwon was sitting cross-legged on his bed, leaning back against a pile of neat gray pillows. he looked entirely different from his daytime self. he was in a plain, fitted back tank top that made his shoulders look broad.

but the thing that made your heart skip a massive beat was his face—he was wearing a pair of round, thick-rimmed glasses that you had never seen before.

he looked devastatingly attractive.

"hey," he said. his voice sounded deeper and a little sleepy through the phone speaker. "let's just go straight to the photos."

for the next forty-five minutes, you worked together, but it felt cozy. you walked him through the aesthetic choices, zooming in on the warm, golden filters you had applied to the photos. and after a while, you finally wrote the perfect caption.

[STUDENT MEDIA EXCLUSIVE] Big things are happening! The Academic Club is hosting an Open House next Thursday after school in the Academic Clubroom. You won't want to miss what our Club President, Yang Jungwon, had in store. See you there! (Spoiler Alert : There will be snacks!)

"it's actually not that bad," he tilted his head.

"see? i told you to trust me," you teased before turning off the screen share. you rested your chin on your hand and stared at him on your screen. "i know what i'm doing."

the line went quiet for a moment. you could hear the faint sound of your air conditioner humming. you couldn't stop looking at his glasses. "you look different with those glasses," you pointed out. "i didn't know you needed them."

he tapped the side of his glasses. "i only wear them at night when my eyes are tired from reading. do they... look weird?"

"no," you whispered honestly. "they look really good on you, jungwon. you look soft."

through the screen, you could see the tips of his ears turn red. he looked away from the camera for a second. when he looked back at you, his eyes were gentle. "thank you."

he glanced at the clock on his wall, "it's eleven-fifteen. you should sleep. we have classes tomorrow, anyway."

and the next morning, the school was quiet as you walked through the main doors. it was still early, so the hallways weren't packed yet. only a few students were standing by their lockers, talking low voices. your shoes made soft tapping sounds as you walked toward the locker area.

you turned the corner and spotted a familiar figure standing there. he was already dressed perfectly in his uniform, school bag hanging neatly.

but as you got closer, you stopped in your tracks. your eyes widened.

jungwon had turned his head to look at you, and your jaw nearly dropped. he looked normal with his school uniform, but resting on the bridge of his nose were the exact same glasses he had worn on the video call last night.

in the bright, morning sunlight streaming through the windows, he looked breathtaking. the glasses softened his sharp features, making him look less like the untouchable top student and more like... a boy you could actually reach.

"jungwon?" you blinked, staring up at his face. "you're wearing your glasses. i thought you only wore them at night in your room."

jungwon's eyes darted around the hallway for a split second, a sudden hint of shyness passing over his face. he lifted his hand and adjusted the thick frames with his index finger, a faint pink blush creeping up his neck and dusting the tips of his ears.

"well, i did read this morning," he mumbles, his voice still a little scratchy. he looked down at you, dark eyes staring into your behind the lenses. "and... someone told me last night that they looked good. i decided to test the theory in daylight."

your heart did a joyful backflip. he had actually worn them to school just because you liked them.

before you could even think of a response, the heavy sound of footsteps echoed from the stairs. a group of people were walking down, laughing loudly and talking to each other.

suddenly, jungwon stepped to you. he didn't hesitate or look back. he closed the distance between your bodies, blocking the view of your face.

then he reached out. his hand rose slowly, his long, warm fingers gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. his touch didn't pull away immediately. instead, his knuckled lingered against the soft skin of your cheek, brushing against it with a tender warmth. he leaned down, bringing his face so close to yours that you could see the tiny reflection of yourself in his lenses.

"morning, pretty," he murmured. his voice was just loud enough for the passing students to hear, making sure everyone knew exactly who you belonged to. but his eyes were completely focused on you. "did you sleep well?"

you were so flustered, he had never used a pet name before. "y-yeah," you managed to whisper, your hands tightly gripping the straps of your backpack. "i slept well. did you?"

jungwon's eyes softened, and a knowing smirk touched the corner of his lips. he clearly enjoyed how shy you had become under his touch. "i did," he whispered back, his thumb giving your cheek one last gentle pat before he finally pulled his hand away. he didn't step back, though. he stayed standing right next to you, free hand nearly touching yours as he reached out to close his locker.

at lunchtime, your phone nearly melted in your blazer due to the stream of notifications you received. the caption you and jungwon finalized the night before, along with that gorgeous photo of him smiling had gone completely viral across the school.

as you walked down the hallway to head to the cafeteria, you didn't even need to look at your screen to know it was a hit. the chatter was everywhere.

"did you see the post about the academic club? since when is jungwon that handsome?" a sophomore girl squealed to her friend by the water fountain.

"look at his smile in that picture. the lighting makes him look like an idol," another student whispered, holding up her phone. "i'm definitely going to that open house just to see him."

you bit your lip, a proud smile tucking at your lips. your vision for the club page had worked perfectly.

when you walked into the cafeteria, you spotted jungwon sitting at his usual table. he looked totally overwhelmed, shoulders tense as he stared down at his phone with a look of disbelief. every few seconds, a a girl walking past his table would look over, giggle, or wave. jungwon would give them a stiff nod before looking back down at his screen.

the second you slid into the plastic seat across him, he looked up. his eyes screamed for help.

"yn," he sighed heavily. "my phone has been ringing since first period. the club's follower count increased by four hundred percent in less than twelve hours. what exactly did you do to that photo?"

"i didn't do anything crazy," you laughed, picking up your spoons. "i just told you the truth. i know how to make things look good. people love seeing a softer side of the scary top student. look at the comments!"

jungwon looked down at his screen again, thumb scrolling through the comments sections. "someone commented that they are skipping dance practice next thursday to attend our open house."

"see! everyone loves it. it's hype," you teased. then, your eyes drifted past his shoulder. "and speaking of hype... look behind you."

jungwon turned his head slightly. across the cafeteria, sitting at the big center table, was wonbin. he was surrounded by his circle, but he wasn't eating. he was staring directly at his phone with a furious expression, jaw clenched tightly. sunghoon was next to him, teasing him abouy how much attention your "nerd boyfriend" was getting.

wonbin looked up, his angry eyes moving to you and jungwon sitting together.

jungwon didn't flinch. he turned back around to face you, the lenses of his glasses catching the bright light. a smile spread across his face.

"your marketing logic is flawless, partner," he praised. he leaned forward a bit, eyes twinkling. "you completely ruined him without saying a single word to him. i have to admit, it's great work."

"hey, we're a team," you smiled, your heart fluttering at the word partner. "we're just getting started."

jungwon let out a quiet laugh, but then he paused. he looked down at his phones, scrolling through the comments again, and a sudden look of realization crossed his face. he tapped his fingers against the plastic table, clearly thinking about something.

"right, so... we might have a bit of a problem for next thursday," he said, looking at you.

"a problem?" you raised your eyebrows, pausing with your food. "what's wrong?"

"based on the likes and comments on the post, a ton of people are actually planning to show up to our open house," he explained. he rubbed the back of his neck, looking a little embarrassed. "the club's current snack supply is only three tea bags and a half-empty box of crackers. we don't have anything to give them."

you let out a rather loud laugh. "so the genius president remembers everything but the snacks?"

"well, i didn't expect so many people to care," jungwon defended himself quickly. his voice then dropped to a whisper. "i really need your help. if i go alone, i'll probably just buy plain crackers and bottled water. i have no idea what kind of snacks people actually want. will you come to the supermarket with me after school?"

a grocery store run. it sounded so sweet and domestic—like something a real boyfriend and girlfriend would do together on a random afternoon.

"an official snack mission?" you cocked an eyebrow.

he smiled at you, the dimple yet again showing on his cheek as he nodded. "exactly. i'll wait for you by the lockers later."

true to his word, jungwon was waiting by your locker after school, already there after you exited your classroom. he had his school slung over a shoulder, his uniform unbuttoned, and those glasses were still resting perfectly on his nose. "ready?" he questioned, a welcoming smile lighting up his face the second he saw you walking up. "ready," you grinned back.

when you stepped through the automatic glass doors of the supermarket, the cool, air-conditioned air hit your face. jungwon walked over to the neatly lined rows of shopping carts. he pulled one out and pushed it over to you, gripping the plastic handle with both hands.

"alright, guide me," he said, glancing around at the brightly lit aisles. "where do we start?"

"we need sweet things and salty things," you mentioned, taking the lead and walking toward the snack aisle. "since it's an event after school, people will be hungry after classes."

as you reached the chip area, he stopped and stared at the massive wall of colorful bags, looking completely lost. he tilted his head with a small frown. "there are too many options," he muttered, reaching out to pick up a bag of unsalted potato chips. "how about these?"

"no way," you chuckled, gently taking the bag out of his hand and putting it back on the shelf. "nobody wants plain chips. we need the spicy ones and the sour cream and onion ones."

you grabbed three large bags of the popular spicy chips and dropped them into the cart. "this is exactly why i brought you," he murmured. "left to my own devices, people would have hated me."

"they wouldn't hate you. they'd just think you're some kind of robot," you teased.

"ouch," he laughed quietly, playing along by placing a hand on his chest.

as you moved over to another aisle, you spotted a specific brand of chocolate-covered strawberries in the refrigerator—your favorite treat. you lingered in front of the glass door for a second, staring at them, but decided not to grab them since they weren't exactly "club snacks."

you turned back around to help jungwon choose some juice boxes and soda cans. jungwon was focused, carefully checking the prices and quantities, making sure there would be enough. it was cute seeing how seriously he took his role as president, even when it came to buying juice.

while you were busy comparing the orange juice brands, jungwon quietly stepped aside for a brief moment. you didn't think much of it until he walked back, pushing the cart with a straight face.

you looked down into the cart and nearly gasped. right on top of the soda boxes was the exact container of chocolate-covered strawberries you had been looking at earlier.

"jungwon?" you looked at him, heart doing a flutter. "what is this?"

jungwon bit the inside of his cheek, eyes darting to the side before locking back with yours. a red tint crept up his cheeks, contrasting beautifully with his dark hair. "i noticed you looking at them," he answered softly, voice a gentle register. he adjusted his glasses, looking a little shy but sincere. "consider it an extra payment for your excellent marketing services. and... because you worked hard. you deserve it."

you stared at him, speechless. here, there was nothing and no one for him to perform for. he had bought them simply because he saw you wanted them.

"thank you," you whispered, a massive smile spreading across your face.

"don't mention it," he murmured, the corners of his lips tucking up into a sweet smile. "let's go pay."

after paying for the massive bags of chips, juice boxes, soda cans, and your favorite chocolate strawberries, you and jungwon walked back to the school. it was completely quiet now, the hallways empty and peaceful in the dim evening light.

you both entered the academic clubroom and dumped the heavy plastic bags onto the main wooden table.

"wow," you sighed, stretching your arms out as you sat down on a chair. "that was a workout. at least we won't starve next thursday."

"indeed. the inventory is now full," jungwon grinned. he began organizing the juice boxes into a straight line on the shelf, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose.

watching him look so focused, you couldn't help but think about how much things had changed. you leaned your chin on your hand, staring at him. "you know, jungwon... you're actually being really nice about all of this. aren't you tired of dealing with my school drama?"

jungwon paused, a juice box still in hand. he turned to face you, leaning his hip against the shelf. "it's part of our arrangement," he replied. "the deal is to maintain the image of a couple to hurt wonbin's ego."

"i know," you murmured, playing with the edge of your blazer. "but we've only really been seen together at school. do you think people actually believe it? wonbin looks mad, sure. but i feel like he's waiting for us to slip up."

jungwon walked over to the table and sat on the chair right next to yours. he leaned a little closer. "i've been thinking about that too, actually," he admitted. "if we only hang out before classes and in the cafeteria, it looks a bit too convenient. real couples don't just exist inside the school. they also do things on the weekends."

you tilted your head, confusion washing over your expression. "what do you mean?"

"i mean we should take this outside of school," he shrugged, looking straight into your eyes. "we should go on a fake date this saturday. like the street festival downtown. we can take some photos together, post them on your personal feed, and give the people undeniable proof."

your stomach flipped. a date? even if it's fake?

"a weekend date?" you repeated. "just for the photos?"

"for visual evidence," jungwon nodded easily, though you noticed his ears turning a little red. "it'll completely solidify the narrative. it's the most logical next step for the contract."

you smiled, seeing right through his logic-talk. he was just as nervous as you were. "alright, president. if it's for the contract, i guess i can clear my saturday schedule for you."

and that saturday afternoon, the sun was bright when you met jungwon outside the train station. the plan for the day was simple, written down neatly in your shared document. since the open house was only a few days away, you needed a few casual but cute photos of the two of you out on a date to keep the rumors alive.

you were adjusting the strap of your digital camera when you heard footsteps.

"am i late?"

you looked up, and your heart did that familiar thud. jungwon was standing there, wearing a light gray knit sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, dark jeans, and clean white sneakers. and of course, not forgetting the glasses.

"right on time," you smiled, tucking your camera into your bag. "you look good today, president."

jungwon's eyes crinkled as a small smirk touched his lips. "you don't look too bad yourself, partner. let's go. the street festival is just two blocks away."

the festival was packed with people and filled with the smell of fried food, loud music, and colorful booths. for the first hour, you focused on the mission. you took photos of jungwon holding a snack, and he took photos of you smiling by a flower stall.

"we have enough options," jungwon said, leaning over your shoulder to look at the camera screen. "sure, but we need one together! come closer," you suggested, turning the camera toward both of your faces.

just as you were about to click the button, a loud voice cut through the crowd.

"wait, yn? jungwon?"

you both froze and turned around. standing there with a cup of iced tea was wonhee, a girl from your homeroom class who loved school gossip. perfect. her eyes were wide with excitement as she looked at the two of you. "oh my gosh, it is you guys! so you guys are actually dating?"

your breath hitched. but before you could panic further, jungwon moved. he didn't hesitate for a single second. he slid his arm around your waist, pulling you so your bodies were flushed together. his hand rested on your hip. "hey, wonhee," he greeted. he then glanced down at you with a gaze so sweet it made your brain short-circuit. "yeah, we wanted to spend some time together away from school today."

wonhee squealed. "wow, jungwon, ive never seen you look at anyone like that. you guys look so cute together!"

"thank you," you said, playing along. you leaned into his chest, resting your head on his sweater right over his heart. you could hear it beating fast against your ear. "we're just having a fun day."

"i won't ruin your date, promise. see you on monday!" she giggled, waving as she disappeared back into the crowd.

the second she was gone, jungwon's hand stayed on your waist for a long beat, thumb brushing against your side. when he finally stepped back, his neck was red. "that was a close call," he looked anywhere but at your face. "good acting."

"yeah," you mumbled, skin still tingling where his hand had been. "you too."

after that, your camera stayed in your bag. the "acting" had felt a little too real, and the rest of the afternoon, you both forgot about the deal entirely.

you dragged him over to a shooting gallery booth, where an adorable plush cat was hanging. "watch and learn, mr. president," you teased, confidently paying the booth vendor and lifting the plastic toy rifle. you took careful aim at the small targets, fired three times, and missed every single shot.

jungwon let out a quiet chuckle, leaning his shoulder against the booth frame as he watched you pout. "is that the social media committee technique? aiming for the wall?"

"i just wasn't focused!" you defended, face burning as you handed him the toy gun. "let's see you do it."

"easy. it's just basic trajectory," he confidently replied, a smirk playing on his lips. he adjusted his glasses, stepped up to the counter, and lifted the rifle. his posture became straight, eyes locking onto the targets with focus.

pop. pop. pop.

three shots, three perfect hits.

the vendor let out a whistle, along with an applause, and handed over the plush cat. jungwon took it with a triumphant grin, dimple popping up as he immediately tucked the plush under your arm.

"trajectory," he whispered playfully, leaning down close to your ear so only you could hear him. "you're welcome."

you hugged the fluffy cat to your chest, heart doing a foolish little flip. after that, you ate cotton candy together, laughing until your stomachs hurt when a gust of wind blew a piece of pink sugar right onto the tip of jungwon's nose.

you truly had the best time.

around five o'clock, the sky suddenly turned dark. within minutes, rain started pouring down. "shit!" you gasped, covering your head.

jungwon grabbed your wrist, his grip firm, and pulled you along as he ran toward a narrow alleyway between two brick buildings. it was a tiny, sheltered space under a concrete roof, just big enough to shield you both.

"too close," jungwon panted as you both burst into the small space. he took off his glasses, which were covered in raindrops, and used his sweater to wipe them clean.

when he put them back on and looked up, you realized just how small the space actually was. because of the pouring rain, jungwon had to be in your personal space. he was standing less than two inches away from you. you could feel the warmth of his breath and the scent of his cologne.

the world shrank down to just the two of you in the dim light.

"yn," he called. "yeah?" you murmured, heart beating so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

jungwon's eyes shifted down to you lips for a split second before returning to your eyes. his jaw clenched, as if he were fighting every single instinct to keep his distance. "it doesn't look like the rain's gonna stop any time soon."

you looked straight into his eyes. "i don't mind waiting here with you."

an unreadable look passed over jungwon's face. he leaned in as he looked out at the sheets of water splashing against the pavement, then scanned your face. "today... when wonhee saw us," he started. "i told her we wanted to spend time together away from school."

you nodded slowly, "yeah. it was a good excuse."

"it wasn't an excuse," he blurted before he could overthink it. "i really did want to. the contract just gave me a reason to ask."

your heart stopped for a beat. you stared up at him, trying to read the expression he had on. you swallowed nervously. "jungwon, are you saying...?"

"i enjoyed today," he interrupted softly. he tucked his hands into his jeans pockets, looking down at the space between your shoes to avoid eye contact. "more than i expected to. i usually find crowds a little stressful. but today, i didn't care about the crowd at all."

he didn't explicitly say 'i like being with you,' but the quiet confession hung in the air, heavier than the storm.

"i enjoyed it too," you offered a small smile. "especially the parts where we weren't taking photos."

jungwon gazed back up at you. the cold academic club president you knew was gone. slowly and hesitantly, he took a hand out of his pocket. his fingers hovered in the small space between you.

he didn't grab your hand this time. instead, his hand drifted closer until his pinky fingers gently brushed against yours.

you didn't pull away.

feeling your permission, jungwon slowly hooked his pinky around yours. his skin was warm and slightly trembling, his finger tightening just enough to lock yours in place. it was such a small touch, but it felt louder than any other public display of affection.

"then let's not think about the photos next time," he muttered. you smiled, blushing hard, making him giggle lightly at your face.

later that night, your phone vibrated against your mattress. you reached for it and your breath caught when you saw jungwon text you.

you unlocked the phone to see the text. he had sent an image file.

you tapped it, and a photo filled your screen. it was a candid picture he had taken of you when you were standing by the flower stall. you hadn't even realized he clicked the shutter at that exact moment. you were looking sideways, laughing at something he had said, with the sunlight hitting your hair perfectly. it looked soft, warm, and happy.

[jungwon] : I was looking through the pictures. I thought you should have this one.

a huge smile now plastered on your lips as you quickly began typing a reply.

[you] : i didn't know you took this lol the lighting is rly pretty

you watched the little typing bubbles appear almost instantly. your heart beat a little faster as you waited for his response.

[jungwon] : You look prettier.

and ever since that text message and the date at the festival, something shifted between you and jungwon. the invisible wall of the "contract" had completely melted away, replaced by a rhythm that neither of you felt the need to question.

one morning, the school's central heater was acting up, leaving the building freezing. you were standing by your classroom door, shivering slightly as you talked to a classmate. when jungwon walked past on his way to the bathroom.

without breaking his stride or even pausing his conversation with a friend walking next to him, he casually unzipped his thick jacket, slipped it off, and draped it over your shoulders as he brushed past you. it was so smooth, leaving you wrapped in his warm, oversized jacket that smelled faintly of his cologne while your classmate stared in shock.

that effortless closeness had also taken over the smallest things.

one time, jungwon walked into your classroom to drop off a flyer for the open house and found you slumped over at your desk, completely exhausted from studying for a history quiz.

he walked straight over. when you saw him and started groaning and complaining about the hard questions, he didn't say a word. instead, he reached down, long fingers gently combing through your messy hair, parting stray strands neatly away from your eyes. his thumb gave your forehead a tiny brush before he took his hand away.

even your mornings at the lockers had changed. there was a time when you walked right up to him while he was organizing his textbook. you took your hands and straightened the fabric of his collar before moving it up to tap the bridge of his glasses, pushing them up his nose where they belonged.

jungwon didn't flinch or look around to see who was watching. he only looked down at you, eyes soft and let out a happy hum.

and in the blink of an eye, thursday afternoon arrived with a chaotic rush. the post had worked entirely too well. by two o'clock, only half an hour after the last bell, the academic clubroom was packed to the brim with over fifty students. the room buzzed with sounds of chatter, laughter, and the constant crinkling of chip bags.

behind the main table, you and jungwon were moving like a single, well-oiled machine. you were frantically offering juice or soda to students while jungwon tidied the snacks.

even in the middle of the sweaty rush, the comfortable vibe you had built over the weeks didn't falter. every few minutes, jungwon would catch a quick glance down at you, silently making sure you weren't feeling overwhelmed by the crowd.

"you're doing great, pretty," he murmured quickly without the intention of saying the pet name, fingers lightly brushing against your wrist in a reassuring squeeze.

your heart did a flutter at the pet name, but you kept your cool. "we're a team, remember?" you smiled back, catching your breath as you handed a juice box to a waiting sophomore.

for the first hour, the open house was a whirlwind of activity. jungwon took the center of the room, confidently explaining the club's upcoming math and science curriculum, voice clear and steady despite the massive crowd.

he looked every bit the capable president, but whenever he made a point, his eyes would instinctively find yours across the room, tracking your reaction. you stayed busy running the snack bar and managing the sign-up sheet, watching with a proud grin as more than ten students wrote their names down to join.

but halfway through, the loud chatter near the doorway suddenly died down slightly. you looked up, and your stomach dropped. wonbin had just walked in, sharp eyes instantly stuck onto you.

a few minutes later, while jungwon was pulled away to a corner by a group of students asking about the registration deadlines, wonbin saw his chance. he strode through the crowd and cornered you with a mocking smirk. "so, you actually managed to pull off a crowd," he tilted his head, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

you tightened your grip on the edge of the table. "move away, wonbin. i'm busy."

"i'm just saying, it's pathetic," he spat, voice dripping with venom. "i'm sure jungwon's just doing his duty as president. the second this open house is done, you guys are done. he's nothing compared to me, yn. you're nothing to him."

before you could fire back, jungwon appeared out of nowhere.

he didn't say a word as he stepped directly between you and wonbin, broad shoulders shielding you from view. the movement was so sudden that wonbin took a step back, smirk faltering. "i think you need to leave." his voice was loud enough that the room fell quiet.

wonbin scoffed, trying to play it cool as he eyed the staring crowd. "relax, dude. i was just talking to—"

"i couldn't care less about what you were doing," he interrupted immediately. the protective instinct radiating off him was palpable. "you're making my girlfriend uncomfortable. and since this is my clubroom, i am telling you to get out."

the word girlfriend rolled off jungwon's tongue so naturally that the students watching started mumbling. wonbin's face turned a humiliated shade of red. realizing he was outnumbered and stripped of any power he thought he had over you, he glared at jungwon one last time before storming out of the room.

the second the heavy door slammed shut, the crowd started whispering loudly. but jungwon didn't care.

he turned around to face you in an instant. his hands reached out, holding your upper arms as his eyes searched your face with concern. "are you okay?" he whispered, his tone of voice completely different from the tone he had just seconds ago. "did he hurt you? what'd he say to you?"

"i'm okay," you breathed, heart thumping from the intensity of the moment. "thank you, won."

by 4 o'clock, the event had finally cleared out. the open house was a success, and the clubroom was dead quiet once again, bathed in the orange shadows of the setting sun. you were slowly wiping down the tables while jungwon stacked the chairs against the wall.

you swallowed a lump in your throat, a crashing wave of sadness washing over you as you forced yourself to say the words you knew you had to say. "so... i guess that means the contract is fulfilled. the fake relationship is done. we don't have to pretend anymore."

jungwon's jaw clenched slightly. he looked down at his hands, his fingers tightening against a chair until knuckles turned white.

inside his chest, his heart was screaming at him to reject the idea. he want to tell you that he didn't want it to end. he wanted to tell you that the way his heart raced when he held your hand at the festival and the way he felt when your pinkies locked in the rain were the most real things he had ever experienced.

but as he looked back up at you, his guarded defense mechanisms kicked right back in. he became terrified of rejection, terrified that you truly only saw this as a contract to solve your ex-boyfriend problem.

"right," he forced a smile onto his face. "the contract is done. we achieved the desired outcome with maximum efficiency."

your heart squeezed painfully at his logical words. so it really was just a contract to him. a math problem he solved.

"mhm. efficient to the end," you choked out, forcing a fake smile as you reached down to grab your bag. "i should probably get going then. see you around, jungwon." you turned around and took two steps toward the door.

"yn, wait."

you stopped in your tracks and turned back to look at him, heart skipping a beat as hope bloomed in your chest. jungwon had stepped away from the chairs, taking a few paces to you. his hands were clenched into fists at his sides. he looked like he was on the edge of throwing away all his logic and telling you exactly how much he needed you.

but then, he froze. his throat bobbed as he swallowed his words, shoulder dropping as his shyness won the battle inside his head.

"never mind," he mumbled gently, a slightly sad smile touching his lips. "thanks for today. and for everything else."

your chest pulled tight at the heavy, unspoken emotion hanging in the air. "thank you, jungwon."

the transition back to your normal life should have been easy.

the contract had achieved a prefect, one hundred percent success rate. wonbin wouldn't even look in your direction when you passed him in the hallways and you heard jungwon's appeal finally got accepted. jungwon got reached his goal, and you had your peace back.

but you realized you didn't care about the peace at all.

you were sitting at your desk during recess, staring blankly at your notebook. last week, this exact time of day was when jungwon walked into your classroom to drop off a flyer and gently brushes the messy hair out of your eyes.

the classroom door opened, and your head snapped up. but it wasn't him. it was just a group of students laughing at they walked in.

a heavy ache settled deep in your chest. you slumped against your desk, burying your face in your arms. it was ridiculous. you didn't care about wonbin anymore. the only thing consuming your thoughts and your entire heart was a quiet boy with thick-framed glasses and a dimpled smile.

across the building, the library was quiet. jungwon sat as his usual desk, surrounded by calculus books and a glowing laptop screen. the exams were only a few weeks away, and normally, this was where jungwon was most efficient.

but today, his brain was offline.

he stared at the same problem for twenty minutes, the numbers blurring together on the page. his right hand was resting on the table. every time he looked at it, he was dragged back to that alleyway in the pouring rain.

he let out a frustrated sigh, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"the contract is done. we achieved the desired outcome with maximum efficiency."

he wanted to punch himself for saying those words. he had let his stupid shyness build a wall between you right when he should have torn it down. he wanted anything but for you to leave.

he pulled out his phone and opened your chat, positioning his thumbs over the keyboard.

Are you busy after school today? The clubroom needs some organizing.

he stared at the draft. it was a lie. the clubroom was perfectly clean. he just wanted a reason, any reason to see you, to hear your laugh, and to breathe in the same air as you again.

his thumb hovered over the send button for a long minute. but his throat tightened as the familiar fear crept back in. what if she's glad the contract is over? what if she doesn't want to see me anymore?

with a sigh, jungwon deleted the text, locking his phone and dropping it face-down on the table. he leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling as a sense of loneliness washed over him.

and due to the receding sighting of you and jungwon together, a rumor spread faster than a wildfire.

The Academic Club president, Jungwon, and his girlfriend, yn, broke up!

you could hear the whispers trailing behind you all day, but you didn't have the energy to care, you walked out to the courtyard during lunch break, desperately needing a quiet place to breathe away.

"hey, yn."

you stifled a sigh as you saw wonbin walking toward you, a smug grin plastered across his face. "i heard the news," he stopped a few feet away from you. "so, the nerd couldn't keep up with you after all huh? i told you he was just doing his duty as president. the second the open house was over, he dropped you."

you stared at him, realizing how insignificant he truly was compared to the boy who stood up for you last week. "get to the point, wonbin."

he took a step closer, mistaking your exhaustion for sadness. "come on, don't be like that. i'm trying to help you. now that you're single again, i was thinking... maybe we can give it another shot. i'm willing to overlook the little stunt you pulled. you made your point, and i'm ready to take you back."

he reached his hand out, aiming to rest it on your shoulder, fully expecting you to melt right back into his arms.

but before his fingers could touch the fabric of your blazer, you sharply slapped his hand away. the crisp smack echoed in the quiet courtyard. wonbin's grin vanished as his eyes widened. "what the hell, yn?"

"don't touch me," you stepped forward, looking wonbin dead in the eye. "let me make this clear to you, because apparently, your brain can't process such small and simple facts. i didn't pull a stunt. and i am never getting back with you."

"are you serious?" his pride clearly took a massive hit. "you'd rather be miserable over a guy who only cared about his club than be with me?"

"jungwon didn't drop me, park wonbin. and even if he never speaks to me again, i would still choose a single second of his kindness over a lifetime of whatever it was i had with you."

wonbin's face twisted into a hideous expression of shock and humiliation. he opened his mouth to speak, but the fire in your eyes completely choked the words in his throat. "you're crazy," he muttered as he backed away. "you're out of your mind."

"maybe i am," you whispered. "now get out of my fucking sight."

you listened to the heavy, angry sound of his sneakers stomping away across the gravel until the courtyard fell into a beautiful silence.

what you didn't know was that a couple of juniors had been sitting on the nearby benches behind the bushes, eating their lunches. within an hour, word of you declaring that you would choose jungwon over anyone else spread.

when the last bell rang, the talk had reached the entire school. and for jungwon, that was the breaking point.

the wind was breezy as you sat alone at the bus stop just outside the school gates. the street was quiet, most of the students having already cleared out. you stared down at your shoes, heart heavy with a mixture of relief from shedding wonbin, and an ache because of missing jungwon.

your face burned as you remembered your own words from earlier. it was the truth, but a nagging fear in the back of your mind whispered that you might never get the chance to tell him.

suddenly, the sound of rapid footsteps echoed. you looked up, breath hitching.

jungwon was running toward the bus stop. his hair was completely windswept, his tie was loosened, and his blazer were unbuttoned. he looked breathless, chest heaving as he skidded to halt in front of you.

"jungwon?" you stood up from the bench. "what's wrong? what are you—?"

not giving you the chance to finish your sentence, jungwon closed the remaining distance between you in a single stride. his ling arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you against his chest.

your let out a soft gasp as your forehead bumped gently against his shoulder. he held you so tightly it almost took your breath away, his fingers digging into the fabric of your blazer as if he were trying to anchor himself to you. you could feel his heartbeat and his warm breath brushing past your ear.

"jungwon...?" you called, hands hovering in the air before tentatively resting on his back.

"i heard what you said," he muttered, voice thick with emotion. he buried his face deeper into your shoulder, grip tightening. "i heard what you told wonbin in the courtyard."

you blinked, heart fluttering. "you did?"

"every word," he mumbled. slowly, he loosened his grip just enough to pull back and look at you, though his hands stayed securely on your waist, refusing to let you step away. "i spent the last week trying to figure out how to live without you. i told myself it was what was best for you because the deal was over."

he let out a self-deprecating laugh, thumb rubbing circles against your side to ground himself.

"but i was wrong. so wrong. it was the worst assumption i've ever made in my life," he confessed. "i couldn't focus on my studies. i couldn't go to the clubroom without missing you. and when i heard what you said today, i realized i was being a coward."

you looked up at him, vision now slightly blurry. "won..."

"i don't want a contract anymore," he stepped even closer until there wasn't a single inch of space left between you. he reached up with one hand, fingers gently cupping your cheek, thumb wiping a tear. "i don't want to fake anything. i want to be your real boyfriend who can hold your hand, fix your hair, and walk you home every single day."

he breathed before adding, "yn, i am completely, hopelessly in love with you."

the confession hung beautifully in the air. a massive smile appeared on your face, heart bursting with happiness so profound it washed every single second of the sadness.

"you are actually terrible at math, jungwon," you laughed softly through your tears. "because it took you a whole week to realize something i've known since that street festival."

his signature dimple popped up as he grinned. "is that a yes?"

"it's a definitive, one hundred percent yes."

jungwon's breath caught in his throat. the last lingering bit of his restraint shattered. he didn't say anything else. his hand moved from your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers gently tangling into your hair to tilt your face up.

deliberately, he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours.

your eyes fluttered shut as a wave of electricity rushed straight to your core. the kiss was soft at first, hesitant and sweet. but as you stood on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck, jungwon let out a hum against your mouth and pulled you impossibly closer, deepening the kiss.

his lips were warm and firm against yours, filled with all the longing and unspoken feeling he had been locking away inside his chest.

the roaring engine of the bus pulled up to the curb, its headlights cutting through the twilight. the doors folded open, but neither of you moved. you were completely wrapped up in his warmth, oblivious to the world around you.

when jungwon finally broke the kiss, his forehead rested gently against yours. he kept his eyes closed for a second, a soft smile spreading across his face, simple cutting deep into his red cheeks. he slid his hand down your arm until his fingers slid between yours, locking his large hand securely with yours. "miss the bus for me?" he questioned. "i want to walk you home."

"i'd miss every bus for you, yang jungwon."

© 2026 wonarchy. all rights deserved.

— likes, comments. and reblogs are highly appreciated !!

[sjynlvr]

࣪ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ side effects may include love ✶ sjy

synopsis:

When your picky, angry, and an overall menace to veterinarian society of a cat takes a liking to the vet student interning at your local veterinary hospital, you find yourself visiting him more often because he's the only one who can handle Gus's 'cattitude.'

He's gentle, patient, and oh-so-passionate about getting Gus the care he needs, to the point he trusts Sim Jaeyun―or Jake to his friends―with belly flops and purring so loud it's hard to hear his heartbeat.

And maybe, amongst the disasters of vet visits and pet parent meet ups, Sir Asparagus Meownnaise the Second of the Artichoke-Broccoli Isles (Gus for short) isn't the only one who's grown absolutely fond of Jake and his fantastic matchmaker of a canine, Layla.

pairing: vet med major!sim jaeyun x marine biology major!f!reader (ft. layla and gus, marine bio major!sophia, law major!manon, psych major!lara, nutriscience major!sunghoon, film & media major!jay + two (2) mentions of nicholas)

genre: romcom, friends to lovers, slice of life, pets as matchmakers (sort of), kinda an academic setting…? it's just soft all around LMAO

word count: 22.9k (surprised it stayed below 30k actually)

warning(s): a bird accident in the first act (not reader's fault), OTTERS, gus is a grumpy menace to society (vets only, he's a sweetheart to other people), gus loves his personal space, and layla also loves gus's personal space, jake is whipped for layla (fork found in the kitchen omg), layla's tail wags at high speeds throughout the fic, lara, sophia and manon are Supportive Besties™, sunghoon & jay hold nick wilde hostage, 02z have a supportive friendship, sunghoon likes being chaos instigator & jay likes to continue said chaos, FLIRTING DISGUISED AS BANTER, jealousy (from gus, he's possessive of jake and his kisses), JEALOUSY (from jake, he has a little spiral bc he sees reader w a man that is NAWT him), manon is done with reader's bullshit and clocks it right away, jake's kinda possessive...? but he's a giant green flag so it kinda cancels out ig, it's just soft idiots in love LMAO, they're also very physically affectionate from the start... kinda down BAD for each other from the first meeting LOL 😜

asher's annotations: this fic is linked to & in the same universe as "in the mirror", but can still be read as a standalone fic! BUT u might find little easter egg references to that fic.. so u might wanna check it out hehe 😝 i loved, loved, loved writing for itm!jake & layla, so of course i had to give these sweethearts their own fic 🤭 the intro is a little (okay maybe more than a little) long BUT trust me, it's for the plot!! also pls ignore any inconsistencies abt these majors... i tried my best, okay? also i JUST realised how much i overused that trope of reader stumbling into jake when he pulls her up but it's too late to change it, so it is what it is 🫩 ANYWAYS please enjoy this humble offering from me while i go tackle two weeks' worth of exams from tomorrow... happy reading! i hope u enjoy nearly 23k of me yapping abt how much jake loves layla & thank u for ur patience in these trying times sigh... everything else aside, i really do hope u enjoy reading this fic! no use of y/n or any physical descriptors! reblogs and feedback are very very much appreciated <3

⚚ ACT ONE: EIGHT LIVES LEFT

You stare down at Gus's patient file in disbelief. The “Spice Level: Ghost Pepper™” and “Has an agenda against vets” notes in it are both infuriating and amusing, yet encapsulate Gus's personality at the vet rather accurately.

The culprit, rather unbothered by it, sits perched on top of his cat tree, licking himself clean with loud, wet sounds. Gus stares down at you from his throne above mortals, green eyes unblinking as he focuses on the vet file in your hands.

Then with the subtlety of a child with a hand bell, he hisses at it. Not at you―no, Gus was too much of a sap and lover boy with you to do that―but rather at the file stamped with the vet hospital's logo.

You snap the file shut, huffing at the fluffy orange and white menace. Gus immediately softens again as the logo disappears, meowing softly at you.

“Honestly, Gus,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “That's the tenth vet we've changed, and you've been alive for a grand total of five years. Why do you like to live life like you've got eight more lives left? Is this your first one or something?”

Gus only gives you a purr in response, as if ignoring everything you just said.

You sigh again. Tucking the file away under your arm, you begin to walk away from him. Gus jumps down from the top, leaping over the different branches of the cat tree, before finally landing on the floor with a soft jingle of the bell on his collar.

He follows behind you like a little orange shadow, right at your footsteps. “Hey, I don't really wanna be talking to you right now,” you glare at him, walking faster.

Gus, of course, promptly ignores that, and follows you anyways.

Letting out a soft “meow” that sounds half-pitiful, and half-like he's plotting your downfall, he immediately trots faster after you, tail stuck up straight.

When you come to a stop next to your bedroom door, Gus stands on his hind legs, and pulls the door open. You stare at him in disbelief, because you definitely don't remember teaching your cat to be able to open doors.

“You don't even have opposable thumbs,” you crouch to look at him closer. “How on earth did you do that, you little fish breath menace?”

Gus licks his mouth, before rubbing against your legs. He spins in a circle, before sitting down all eleven point nine pounds of him on the floor in front of you.

You meet his expectant gaze with a squint of your eyes. “You're not getting a treat for that.”

Gus meows once more, wide, pitiful boba-like eyes staring back at you.

You stare back, raising an eyebrow at him.

He increases the intensity of his expression, adding in a tilt of his head.

You hold his gaze, unblinking.

Gus decides it's time to up his game. He lets out a little “mrrp” and rolls to the floor, exposing his fluffy white belly.

You throw the towel and cave in.

Rubbing his belly, you grumble under your breath. “How am I supposed to stay mad at you if you're going to lure me in with that belly, hm? You know I can't resist it ― ow!”

Gus licks your hand to soothe over the nip he gave you, but the way his ears twitch twice tells you that he's rather content with the reaction he's pulled out of you. Adorable little piece of shit.

He twists his body, holding onto your wrist as he begins to groom your hand, and you wrinkle your nose at the smell of a cat's characteristic tuna breath. “Gus, I brush your teeth every third day, yet you still have that stinky tuna breath. I love you, Gus Gus, I really do, but I really don't want to be smelling like tuna.”

Despite all that, you don't pull your hand away from him, and Gus, content with where he is, continues to groom and lick your arm, even throwing a minor bite here and there for a “thorough” cleaning.

Then with a final hiss at the file on the table, he rolls away with a soft 'thump!' against the floor, his tail flicking in mild annoyance at something you're yet to figure out.

Sighing at him, you give him another scratch under the chin (which the furry bastard takes with great pleasure, purring loud enough for you to feel it in your bones), before heading off to shower, closing the bathroom door shut behind you.

Which happened to apparently (actually, definitely) be a crime worthy of death.

The moment you step into the shower, a pained yowl sounds behind the door, before being followed by frantic scratching and clawing at the wood.

Then a paw sneaks under the gap between the door and the floor, pink toe beans appearing and disappearing as he flexes his paw, before a second one joins in and begins to shred the door from the inside.

“... Really? Really?” you sigh in exasperation, hair still half-wet from the water, before swinging the door open. “Are you a velcro baby,” you mutter in amused exhaustion, “or are you just an opportunistic voyeur?”

Gus meows innocently at you, as if he wasn't the one screaming his lungs out like he was going to die if he was separated from you for a moment longer.

Then he brushes past you and into the bathroom, before jumping onto the counter, and resting next to the sink. When you raise an eyebrow at him, he gives you a slow blink, before returning his gaze towards the shower.

Sighing, you roll your shoulders, before stepping back into the shower, making sure to let the door stay open a little so that the little menace can “supervise” you in the water.

Midway through your shower, Gus willingly walks into the shower... just to stick his tongue out to drink some water. Very conveniently ignoring the existence of the three water fountains in various places around your apartment.

“I use mineral water for you, and you prefer to drink shower water? What is wrong with you?” you stare down at him, watching the way his tongue sticks out to catch the falling water.

He blinks, his head wet in the middle between his ears, from where the water falls on it, and makes no move to cease his “drinking” attempts.

“Oh? Is it your turn with the communal orange braincell today?” you sigh at him with fond exasperation.

The wide eyes, pointed ears, and straight tail tell you enough.

Then as if he remembers that he actually has a good water fountain, Gus jerks back like the water is scalding poison, and then hops out of the shower to go back to his original position on the bathroom counter.

After circling his spot twice, he sits down with a flop, and begins to lick away at the wet parts of his fur. With the orange demon out of the way, you're free to finish your shower.

When you step out of the shower, he's still sat in the bathroom, but has now climbed on top of the shelf, watching over you like a gargoyle on a cathedral's spire.

“How did you even climb up there ― you know what, nevermind. I don't want to know.” You groan, grabbing your towel and drying yourself off.

Gus watches you go through your routine, giving you slow blinks every time you make eye contact with him, green eyes disappearing for a bit, before reappearing.

When you pull out your hairbrush from the drawer, he jumps down to the counter, and comes to sit next to you for his part of your routine. When you brush through your hair once, he ducks his head so that you can “brush” him with the back of your hairbrush.

The entire back and forth continues till your hair no longer has any knots in it, while Gus's purring has reached the maximum possible decibel level for him.

When you do your makeup, you make sure to use the other brush to “blush” his cheeks, before doing your own. When you finish with your routine, Gus flops onto your makeup products, rolling twice as he asks for pets.

You obey His Clementine Majesty's demand with no question of refusal.

He tilts his head back for more chin scritches, almost knocking down your bottle of lotion into the trash can with how much he stretches.

He follows you out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, climbing onto the bed. He stays curled in your duvet, and patiently waits for you to lay out your three outfit options for the day.

When you give him the go ahead, he makes a big stretch, yawning for a moment, before he trots over to inspect the choices before him. Sniffing and testing them for durability with his claws, he finally picks a navy blue turtleneck and khaki slacks for your outfit of the day, nudging two rings out of your jewelry holder.

“For an animal that's supposed to have the IQ of a two year old toddler, you've got a rather refined sense of style,” you mutter, putting on the necklace that he gives a headbutt to.

Gus looks very proud of his choices for your OOTD as you put them on, and flops onto your bed again, demanding pets as payment for his very distinguished services. When he's satisfied with the praise and pets he receives for his payment, he jumps off of your bed, and heads towards the door.

He sits outside your bedroom, looking back at you, as if expecting you to follow him. You laugh at the sight, grabbing your backpack as you trail behind him, while he leads the way to your kitchen.

Breakfast is a quiet affair, with you eating your human only food (Gus did try to steal some of your eggs while you were cooking them, and almost did succeed in his endeavour.

Keyword being almost, because then he got smacked with the back end of the spatula, and then gave you betrayed looks the entire time), while Gus crunches on his cat food on the other end of the table, having insisted on joining you at the table with a loud, stretched out meow that demanded nothing but complete compliance from you.

Grabbing your university ID, you let the turquoise lanyard hang around your neck—the lanyard colour for the marine biology department had been unanimously chosen by the teachers and students alike—the fabric cool to the touch as it rests against your skin.

Slinging your backpack over your shoulder, you find Gus back up in his cat tree, in his little bed where he spends his mornings after you leave the apartment. Giving him one final pet, and kissing the top of his head (to which he gives you another round of purrs), you grab your car's keys, and head down into the parking lot.

Sophia, your best friend, texts you updates as you ride the elevator downstairs. The two of you had sat down together in one of the introductory classes to your major, and ever since then, you'd been absolutely inseparable. It

[Sophia the First]: Where are youuuuu?

[Sophia the First]: It's been ages since I saw you omg

You chuckle at her response, fingers swiping across the screen as you reply to her.

[You]: Oh my god. We just saw each other yesterday, Soph 🤭

[You]: And I'm on the way, cutie

[You]: I'll be over at the conservatory soon!

Her reply comes back almost instantaneously.

[Sophia the First]: Hurry up then, lady!

[Sophia the First]: I want to see your cute face again 😛

[Sophia the First]: It's a sea of olive green lanyards in here

[Sophia the First]: Vet med's taking over the conservatory

[Sophia the First]: Which is why we need our star student

[Sophia the First]: Aka YOU missy

[Sophia the First]: To fight back and win

[Sophia the First]: Everyone in favour of otter toe beans say aye

You chuckle at her messages, sending her a final text, before getting into your car.

[You]: Aye!

The drive to the Saltwater Conservatory from your apartment takes about half an hour, but the beachside road that leads to the conservatory makes up for the time it takes to get there.

The salty sea breeze blows through your hair, and the morning sun glints against the water in fractured ribbons of light. A lighthearted pop song plays from the console, the sound of seagulls squawking and the waves rolling onto the shore accompanying it as a background score. It's usually a peaceful, scenic drive.

Until it becomes no longer peaceful or scenic today, that is.

It all happens within a matter of seconds—one moment, you're driving happily along the road, humming along to the song playing, and the next moment, your windshield is ninety percent bird.

An albatross (which shouldn't even be in this urban area) is lying on your windshield. On a good day, you would've taken the time to admire the bird when you could catch a glimpse of it this close, but right now, the marine bird's massive wingspan stretches across the glass and virtually blocks all vision for you.

You hit the brakes immediately, pulling over, and leap out of your seat to go check up on it. Crouching low, so as to not startle it, you move just a bit closer to inspect the albatross as safely as you can for both you and the bird.

The animal, even as it lays across your car's hood now, is a majestic sight to behold. The long flight feathers shine against the sun, and the softer downy feathers puff out a little, as a breeze blows past. The beak is sharp and pointed—perfect for hunting prey from the waters. The sound of the bird crowing snaps you out of your daze.

Right. Not the time to be admiring it right now.

Shaking your head to get rid of the thoughts occupying your mind, you move to focus on the bird's possible injuries. From an immediate glance, you can tell that it has a broken wing—the angle at which the wing is bent is odd—but the wing seems to have been broken much before the bird had landed on your car. When the bird lets out another pained squawk, you immediately step back, not wanting to aggravate it.

Defensive animals rarely believed in peaceful conflict resolution.

The time you had spent at the conservatory had taught you enough about that.

Stepping back to put some more distance between you and the bird, you pull out your phone to call wildlife services, watching the bird keenly while the phone rings. After informing the rescue about the incident, you take a picture of the tracker attached to the bird's foot and forward it to them.

Then you move to sit down on the pavement by the road a little distance away from your car—but not too far that you couldn't observe the bird as was requested of you by the vet team at the rescue—you patiently wait for the rescue team's arrival.

The bird still lays on your car, probably exhausted, and you make no further move to approach it. The sound of the rolling waves, the seagulls, and the calls the albatross lets out from time to time remain the only sounds around you, carried away by the salty sea breeze with the scent of seaweed and wet sand. As you continue to wait for help to arrive, one thought lingers in your mind, as the initial panic and awe had begun to slowly ebb away with the tide.

There was no way that Sophia would believe the morning you've just had.

Sophia, it turns out, had been blatantly lying to you about the Great Veterinary Medicine Takeover of the Saltwater Conservatory.

When you'd finally arrived at the conservatory after sending the albatross off with the professionals that would give it the help it needed (they'd assured you of updates, and thankfully, your car had escaped the situation unscathed too), you were expecting to find yourself in a sea of olive green lanyards moving around the building.

But what you found instead were olive green lanyards moving around the building, yes, but there were only six of them.

Six.

Sure, for someone who's class strength was limited to twenty students a year it may have seemed more, but could a “takeover” occur with only six students? You didn't think so.

You find Sophia waiting for you by the otter enclosure's entrance, already dressed in her PPE and ready to go. She lights up when she spots you, and still not having worn her gloves yet, smacks you on the arm.

The sound echoes in the hallway, drawing a few curious chitters from the critters inside. “What on earth took you so long?! You told me you'd left your apartment over an hour ago!”

“You're not gonna believe me,” you say, walking into the locker room to grab your PPE kit, “but an albatross crash landed on my car's windshield on the drive over here.” She gapes at you, her eyes blown wide in sheer disbelief. “Of course I don't believe you! An albatross, in these parts?”

You slip on the coat, buttoning it up. “Right? That's what I thought too. I almost crashed because its wings were wide enough to cover my windshield.” Upon hearing that, Sophia's expression morphs into one of concern, and she reaches out to rub your arm. “Hey, that must've been terrifying—both for you and the bird.”

You give her a fond look, and wrap your arm around her in a side hug. “Soph, I'm fine. I pulled over immediately.” She huffs a sigh of relief, squeezing you in return. “Good. I would've been very sad otherwise.”

You smile at her. “I know, Soph, I know.” Sophia gives you another hug—a proper one this time—before letting go of you. “So, what happened next?”

You slip your gloves on as you continue telling her the story. “Then I stepped out, and inspected it. Found a broken wing and it was tagged, so I called wildlife protection services. They came pretty early to the scene, but took around forty-five minutes to decide what was the best way to transport it safely. They did assure me of updates on its progress, so I'm not too worried about it.”

Sophia hums at that, nodding seriously. “That's good, then. I'm glad nobody was hurt,” she pauses for a bit, before turning back to you. “You done?”

Checking yourself over in the full length mirror to catch any unbuttoned areas in your coat, you nod at her. “Yeah, I'm done. Let's go.” Her excitement returns again, as she claps her hands and leads you over to the door.

“I still can't believe we get to observe THE sea cats in person!” She squeals, before immediately quietening when the two of you are close enough to hear the noises and chirps of the animals inside. The door, now with a sign that reads 'Lontra felina (Marine otter/Sea cat)' in big, bold letters, is the only thing between the two of you and your current subject of study.

You share one final look of excitement with Sophia, before she pushes the door open extremely slowly. The two of you peek your heads around the metal, and there they are—two marine otters, members of the Lontra felina species, splashing around in the water right before your eyes.

They chirp and trill at each other, and it takes all you have to not squeal out loud, but you manage to pace yourself for the sake of the animals. No loud noises, you remind yourself. We're just here to observe their behaviours today. No contact.

Sophia does a little happy dance at the sight of them, but manages to do it while completely silent. Her shoulders shake with the brunt of her excitement, and you have to suppress a chuckle at the sight.

The sight of the usually composed Sophia vibrating with childish glee is not something you'd see on the regular, but with the context of the marine otters, it makes a lot of sense.

You think that her reaction to them was actually a more subdued one, considering that you'd screamed loud enough to scare Gus off of your desk when the email about your participation in the enclosure study from your professor had arrived.

Marine otters in the wild were an elusive, largely solitary species—seldom forming groups more than two or three individuals if they did—who often avoided contact with humans.

While historical records did show that they could be domesticated to live in freshwater pools, and were even used by fishermen to fish for them at some point of time, the practice had been discouraged due to the risk of illegal poaching and declining wild populations.

Currently an endangered species, to be able to get your hands on not one, but TWO individuals was like winning a lottery for someone like you, who was studying marine mammals.

You and Sophia tip toe your way around the enclosure, finding a space by the rocky outcroppings meant to mimic the tide pools in their natural habitats.

You pull out your notebook, having opted for a pen that uses a twist mechanism to open instead of the traditional cap or click mechanisms—completely preventing any possible source of noise. The smell of ink isn't strong, but with its high quality, it easily glides across the paper in vivid strokes, as you sketch and take notes of the otters' behaviours.

They use tools from their environment to crack open some of the shells “hidden” in the rocks for their enrichment, and even play with a large inflatable ball. The pair had been moved from the wildlife rescue to the conservatory after they had grown dependent on their human caretakers.

Since the rescue wouldn't have enough space to house them in a manner that would enrich them properly, the university had taken them in, having converted an empty enclosure into one that mimicked their natural habitats.

Their behaviour with their caretakers (they had arrived to start the otters on a three-month transitionary period) is similar to that of captive sea otters, and you and Sophia spend a good chunk of the next two hours documenting all their behaviours, individual personalities, social interactions, down to the smallest of quirks.

The male, Leonard, is more curious compared to the female, Yun, who while extroverted, tends to explore her surroundings slowly, one thing at a time.

By the time you finish up for the day, your fingers ache with the pain from long writing periods, but the sketches and data encapsulated in your notebook make up for it. While reading about the species in a textbook was one thing, seeing them with your own eyes had been a whole different thing.

Both you and Sophia are silent as you take off your PPE and place it in the designated laundry spot, still decompressing from the hours spent in the enclosure. When the two of you walk outside into the late afternoon sun, you're the one who breaks the silence first. “So.... That just happened.”

“Yeah,” she breathes, still in awe of the animals. “That just happened, and I still can't believe that it actually did.” Another beat of silence passes as you stand side by side, before the two of you turn to face each other, and let out loud squeals, finally being allowed to express your excitement. “Oh! Oh! Oh! We just saw sea cats! We just saw actual sea cats! Oh my gosh, we saw THE sea cats!”

The other people passing by the two of you give slightly odd looks, but neither you nor Sophia care about them, too busy jumping up and down. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, I need to mark today's date in my calendar. Like, I still can't believe that this is all real.”

You agree with her, but the ache in your fingers and wrist tells you that it was, in fact, very real. The two of you exchange your notes and observations for a bit longer, before finally parting ways.

“I'll see you on Thursday, then?” she tilts her head at you, a smile on her face. “We can head over, right after class.” You nod, reaching in for a hug. She obliges, squeezing you harder, before finally letting go, and walking over to her own car. You wave her goodbye, watching her drive away.

When you turn around to head to your own car, you bump into someone—the impact abrupt and solid—and the world tilts on its axis as you fall to the pavement behind you, hands flying to your nose. The sound of clattering pens and rustling papers follows right after, as warm hands—much larger than your own—wrap around your wrists, trying to move them away to inspect the damage.

“Oh shit—I am so, so sorry. Are you hurt? Is your nose bleeding?” A soft voice calls out, thick with concern and guilt. “I really didn't mean to bump into you, I can promise you that. I was just distracted by the thought of the porpoises I had been observing earlier—why am I even telling you all of this? Uh, are you really okay?”

An olive green lanyard comes into your view first, before its owner appears in your line of vision—with a pair of soft brown eyes, messy black hair, and a rounded pair of black spectacles that sit on his nose—he makes a rather handsome figure, something that you can recognise even through the pain.

The glare of the sun softening into a halo behind his head does not help in your perception of him, and as someone conditioned to make unhinged comments thanks to your proximity to animals (and a certain psych major named Lara), you end up blurting out the first thought that comes to your mind.

“Are you an actual angel, or am I just hallucinating your entire existence?”

The words leave your mouth before your dignity can give them the go ahead. He blinks at that, before letting out what seems to be a flattered chuckle. “Uh, sorry to break your heart, but I'm still unfortunately as human as you are. And no, you're not hallucinating... Or maybe you might be. Wait, how many fingers am I holding up?”

You mutter to yourself under your breath, but to him, it sounds like you're speaking gibberish, and his expression tightens, as if he's panicking internally.

“I swear she only hit her nose, but her speech seems to be impaired... Should I call Jungwon and ask him for help? I don't want to be medically irresponsible,” he muses to himself, glancing between you and his phone, unsure of what to do.

“Two, two,” you finally speak up, coughing into your fist as the pain finally begins to subside. “You are—uh, you were holding up two fingers.” He lets out an audible sigh of relief, setting his phone down.

“Thank goodness. I thought I was going to have to drive a half-conscious woman to the medbay, while trying to figure out a way to not get arrested.”

He gathers your fallen things before he gets his, arranging them neatly before he places them in one arm, and extends the other to you to help you up. When you place your hand in his, he pulls you up with almost little to no effort, and the force of the action nearly sends you tumbling into his chest again.

“Easy,” he says, steadying you. “I got you.” He lets go of you only when he's sure that you won't tip over again, watching you stand on your own feet.

Then he hands you your collected items and backpack, questioning you quietly now that he's calmer. “No dizziness or anything of the sort? You're not seeing doubles or triples?”

You shake your head—regretting the action for a moment as the slightest hint of vertigo creeps in—before standing normally again when the sensation fades away. “No multiples,” you answer, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

He notices your fallen notebook a bit further away from his feet, having missed it while he was gathering the rest of your stuff, and crouches down to pick it up.

He brushes the dust off of the cover, beginning to hand it back to you, when his eyes land on your sketches of the otters. His entire face lights up, and he turns to you excitedly. “Are these the sketches of the new arrivals at the conservatory?”

You blink for a moment, caught off guard, but a chance to gush about the little critters wasn't one you were about to miss. “Yeah! My friend and I were assigned to be their student caretakers! Today was our first session, so we just spent the four hours observing them.”

“Lucky girls, you two,” he whistles, eyes glancing between the book and you. “Mind if I just glance through this real quick?” You shake your head at him, happy to share your data with him. “Not at all. Go ahead!”

He reads through your notes, flipping through the pages with great care. He tries to suppress his little chuckles in the places where you've added your own funny little comments about the otters.

He pauses when he gets to a particular line about their feline resemblance. “.... similar to my 'land cat'? You have a cat?” He glances up at you, adjusting his glasses, as his eyes shine expectantly at you.

You, of course oblige his request, and pull up the entire folder in your camera roll dedicated to Gus. “Meet my little orange tyrant. Certified lover boy.”

He coos at the pictures, scrolling through them after he gets your permission. “Oh, he's adorable. Quite sassy at times, too. Seems like he's quite aware of who's in charge of who.”

You beam at him with the pride of a proud pet parent at his praises of your four legged child, when you notice the little keychain hanging from his scrub pants. “Is that your dog's picture?” you bend down to observe the ornament hanging at his waist more closely. He blinks, before a fond expression crosses his face. “Yeah. This is my baby, Layla.”

“Aw, she's adorable! What a cutie. The sunglasses are so cute on her!” He preens at the praise, immediately taking it off for you to inspect closely and praise his doggy daughter some more. “I know, right?! She's just so cute in everything she does. I seriously can't get enough of her.”

You observe it closely, handling it with careful fingers, before handing it back to him. “Oh, I need to make one with Gus's face too. This is so cute.” He tilts his head at that, an excited smile on his face. “I can give you the website I used to make this if you want.”

“Oh, please, please do. I could never have enough Gus Gus merch.” He chuckles at your enthusiasm, and holds his phone out to you. “Give me your number, and I'll send the details to you.” You restrain yourself from outright snatching his phone, and punch in your digits, before handing it back to him.

As he moves to save you contact, he pauses for a moment, before giving you a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I uh... Didn't ask for your name. Can't call you 'Otter Girl' in my head the entire time.”

You laugh at that, and give him your name, holding your hand out. He grabs a hold of it, and gives you a firm handshake as he grins. “I'm Jake. Nice to meet you. I'll require daily updates about Gus now that we're friends.”

“I'll oblige only if I get daily Layla updates too,” you tease, and he nods his head sagely. “Of course, of course. An equivalent exchange is a must.”

The two of you simply stare at each other for a few seconds, before bursting out into loud laughter. “What was that?” Jake mutters, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “Why did I sound like a mob boss making deals for pet pictures?”

“You wouldn't last a day as a mob boss,” you quip, and he gives you a look of faux offense, before laughing himself. “You're right. I actually wouldn't. That's not my cup of tea—it's more Gus's cup of tea, I'd assume?”

“A hundred points right there,” you smile, and he cheers. You laugh at him again, and he gives you an easy grin. “Well, if you don't mind excusing me, I have a daughter to pick up from my friends, or she'll sulk for the rest of the evening.”

You move out of the way, being slightly dramatic about it. “Why of course, make haste! Princess Layla must not be kept waiting!” He gives you a bow, before jogging off towards his car. As he runs, he calls out over his shoulder one last time: “Give my salutations to the tangerine terror!”

You laugh harder at that, watching him get into his car. He waves at you again, before actually driving away. You watch him go, his car slowly growing smaller as he crosses the distance. Shaking your head with a grin that hasn't left your face, you finally head back to your car.

Seems like the upcoming days at the conservatory would have a new friend joining you and Sophia. You did need a vet to join your study, anyways.

⚚ ACT TWO: EIGHT LIVES TOO MANY

Jake lights up like a child on Christmas morning when you bring up the question to him on Thursday morning.

“Of course I'd love to join the otter study!” he says, holding your hands tightly. “I've been dying to get a look at them ever since they arrived at the conservatory—I can't thank you enough for offering me a chance despite having met me only once before!”

You chuckle warmly at his enthusiasm, giving him a smile. “That single meeting was enough to tell me what kind of a person you are around animals—no, actually, the Layla keychain was the one that told me enough.”

“What can I say?” He gives you a bashful grin, glasses sitting a little crooked on his nose, and still holding onto your hands, his grip warm and comforting. “I just love my daughter.” You shake your head, giggling softly. “I could tell—anyone in vet med who was that obsessed with their fur baby would definitely be good with other animals.”

He gives you another shy smile, but the satisfied gleam in his eyes says enough about the subtle pride he takes in his ability to care for animals. “Of course, that's a given. Layla was the reason I picked vet med as a major.” His smile curls into something fonder at the thought of Layla.

You smile at the sight, before letting go of one of his hands to reach for your phone as it lights up in your jean's pocket. He looks curiously at you, but waits for you to tell him what's going on. “Oh, it's just Sophia,” you say, pocketing your phone again. “She's asking if you'd like to come with us to the docks. We're going to go observe some migrating whales.”

His eyes widen so much you think that they'll pop out of his head. “Like, actual, real whales? Some of the biggest mammals on earth kinda whales?” You nod at him, biting down on your lip to suppress the chuckle threatening to slip out of you. He stares at you for a beat longer, eyes still blown wide.

Then he pulls you into a big bear hug, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “Oh, I'd love to join! Thank you for inviting me, really!” His mop of messy hair brushes against your cheek as he squeezes you gently, and he's giggling in excitement as he pulls away. “I've been interested in whale migration patterns since a visit to the aquarium a few years ago, so an opportunity to observe them in their natural habitat isn't one that I'll turn down.”

You laugh, patting his shoulder as you gesture at him to follow you. “C'mon. Soph's already at the docks, prepping the gear. The bus will be leaving soon—we've to hurry if we want seats for the half an hour drive there.”

Jake doesn't need a second reminder, and he quickly follows after you, long limbs catching up to you with ease. Then he slows his pace down to match yours, his stride in step with yours. He's clutching onto the strap of his bag like it's a lifeline, and he clumsily adjusts his glasses as the bus comes into view. “Okay,” he breathes, patting his face. “This is happening. I'm going to go whale watching.”

You give him an amused grin, climbing inside. “Yeah, Sim Jake's going whale watching. Layla won't get jealous, right?” That comment seems to ease his nerves, and he gives you a look of faux annoyance, settling down next to you comfortably. “Hush. This stays between us, you hear? My daughter does not need to know about the existence of other animals in my periphery.”

The bus ride over is mildly bumpy, due to the recent stormy weather. During a particularly harsh bump, Jake nearly bumps into the seat in front of him, and he rubs his nose in mild annoyance. “Does the driver have an agenda against people in majors other than marine bio?”

“One of the vet med majors insulted his driving once. Yeah, he does have an agenda against olive green lanyards.” You whisper to him, and he gives you an unimpressed look. “And you couldn't tell me this earlier?”

You give him an innocent look, already standing up in your seat as the bus comes to a stop a little distance away from the piers. “You'd have run away if I had told you. Can't have my vet running away from me without permission.” He scoffs at that, but the grin tugging at his lips gives him away. “I wasn't aware that I was already a possessive object.”

“Well, you are now—woah!” you yelp, being tugged backwards as you move to get past him, and land on his lap. “Hey, easy,” he murmurs, hands reaching out to steady your shoulders. “What happened? Did you trip?”

You shake your head, still confused. “No, I didn't. I got tugged backwards, actually.” He blinks at that, and then he lets out a soft chuckle. “I think I know why you nearly fell.”

That earns him a confused look from you, and he looks at something between the two of you. You follow his gaze, only to find your lanyard tangled with his, turquoise bending and twisting around olive green.

“Oh,” you say, blinking at the sight. “The bumps must've tangled them together.” He hums at that, an amused gleam replacing the concerned one in his eyes. “... Maybe it did. Or maybe this was your way of making sure that I don't run away from you.”

“I would never resort to such underhanded tactics, thank you,” you huff, and he gives you a mildly dubious look at that. He watches as your fingers reach out to untangle the fabric.

“Why is this so tight? Even a sailor's knot would be easier to deal with than this.” He laughs at your complaint, and reaches out to help you, nimble fingers quickly helping you untangle the knot. You stare at him in mild awe, stepping down from your seats. “Now how did you do that?”

His hand rests on your back as he follows you through the alley, and his other one instinctively reaches out to block the sun from your view as the two of you step out of the vehicle. “Oh, it was nothing much. Hours of suturing practice does that to you.”

“Is that a flex, or was that merely an observation?” you tease, hopping down the steps. He chuckles, following after you, the dried twigs on the pier crunching under his shoes. “Why couldn't it be both? I did put in a lot of effort to make my skills as perfect as possible.”

“Touché,” you hum, and Sophia's loud yell draws your attention from him to her. “OI! HURRY UP PEOPLE! THE WHALES ARE GOING TO FLIPPER AWAY IF YOU DON'T!”

Jake blinks at her energy, before cupping his mouth and yelling back. “TELL THEM TO WAIT A LITTLE! EVOLUTION FROM WATER TO LAND NEEDS TO HAPPEN OVER A LONG TIME, NOT IN A SPAN OF HOURS!”

Sophia cackles at his response, immediately reaching out to wrap an arm around his shoulders. “Welcome to the crew! You've passed the first test!” Jake rolls his eyes at that. “There's more? Please, have mercy. I just gave like three exams two days ago.”

Sophia huffs, and hands him a safety vest, goggles and a helmet as a just in case. “The second and true test is going to be the seas, goldie. If you can stomach choppy waves, then you can stomach anything.” He takes them—and to his credit, as a first timer, puts them on okay—but the gear isn't secured properly.

So you wordlessly reach out, fingers brushing the fabric, and tighten the straps of his safety vest. He gives you a grateful glance as he puts the goggles on, shaking his head to push his hair out of his eyes. Sophia directs him to sit down in a safer corner of the boat, and he obeys quickly, sitting down with his arms braced on either side and clutching onto the railing.

You and Sophia mill about the vessel, tightening up any loose equipment and securing the rails, with Jake observing both of you and asking questions occasionally. About ten minutes later, Professor Han and Professor Neumann step on board, their faces mildly flushed from the winds beginning to blow.

Professor Neumann notices Jake first, and extends her hand out for a handshake. “Ah, you must be the vet med candidate that this one here,” she gestures to you, “recommended for the marine otter study. I've seen some of your work and I must say, you'd be a good addition to the team. I just hope you don't get too seasick.”

Jake gives her a bashful smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah, thank you. I've read some of your work, too—your research into pilot whale pod hierarchies and the social complexities within them was an interesting read.” Professor Neumann raises an eyebrow at that, surprise colouring her features. “You've read that? Most people know me for my work on sea turtles and orcas.”

Jake chuckles warmly at that, shaking his head. “It was a chance discovery, actually. I was looking up some information on some elective classes I wanted to take, when I found your paper. I found the topic rather interesting, since it contrasts with the examples of traditional social behaviours we have, like in wolf packs.”

Professor Han comes to stand between you and Sophia, her arms crossed over her chest. She gives you an amused look, nodding her head towards where Jake and Professor Neumann are engaged in a discussion about “non-linear hierarchies in mammals” and “how human sociology and stereotypes influence non-primate research.”

Sophia stifles a chuckle at the sight, and Professor Han herself lets out an amused, long suffering sigh. “I hope you don't have any other vet med candidates in mind,” she says, her eyes still fixed on the pair, “because Hilda will not approve anyone else after this.”

“Don't worry, Prof. We're not going to have any issues.” You chuckle at that, hands resting in your pockets. “No other candidates to be vetted for now.” Professor Han gives a satisfied nod at that, patting you and Sophia on a shoulder each. “Good job, then. You picked well, girls. The study should progress smoothly with him around.”

You watch as Professor Han joins in on their discussion, interjecting with a point that Sophia backs her up with, using a cited source. The boat rocks slowly with the movement of the shallow waves of the low tide, as birds circle the sky overhead.

The sun has softened to a gentle warmth, and the wind brushes your hair as you lean against the railing. The four of them discuss their points animatedly, each one bouncing off of the points of another.

Professor Han said that you'd chosen well by recommending Jake for the study. A smile tugs on your lips as you decide to keep the truth to yourself instead.

There had been no “other” candidates. Jake had been your first and last choice since the afternoon when you first bumped into him.

You hear the call of the whales before you catch sight of them.

It's a low, resonant sound—a series of chirps and clicks—that seem to vibrate in your body, down to every last cell in your bones. The wind whips through your hair, harsher this far out into the sea, but that doesn't stop you from running to the deck to see the massive animals glide alongside your boat.

The waves are stronger in these parts, further stirred by the powerful sweeps of the whales' tails, but Professor Han steers through them with ease, guided by her years of experience.

A shaky breath next to you draws your attention away from the animals for a second. Jake—now having abandoned his safe corner—stands next to you, his eyes locked on the pod as they swim through the water.

“They're... They're beautiful, really,” he murmurs softly, eyes beginning to glisten with unshed tears. “God. I've never felt this small, and I've stood next to a fully grown male African elephant before.” You smile at that, and keep the silence in between the two of you. The first sighting of the whales was something intimate and personal, after all.

“Beauties, aren't they?” Professor Neumann comes to stand on Jake's other side, an awed smile on her face. “No matter how many times I see them, it's like seeing them for the first time all over again. It never gets old.”

He glances at her, before returning his gaze to the animals, watching the young ones twirl and spin next to their much, much larger mothers. “No,” he breathes, still star-struck. “I doubt it could ever get old.”

Sophia brings up the instruments you need to collect data, and you help her and the two older women set them up. You notice that Jake lingers a little too close to the railing for your liking, and you call out to him, yelling to make yourself heard over the sounds of the winds, water, and whales.

“Jake! Step back a little! I'm not sure we have insurance for “death by whale tails” on our list of possible claims!” He blinks at that, and immediately shuffles himself backwards as a sheepish smile makes itself home on his face. “... Sorry. I didn't realise how close I'd gotten to the railing.”

Professor Han chuckles and hands him a pair of binoculars, as Professor Neumann reminds all of you to pull up the hoods on your raincoats.

“That's a rookie mistake, it's fine. The first sighting is always the most impactful one. Here, use these.” He gingerly takes them from her, and holds them up to his eyes to observe the animals.

A particularly hard swing of one of the whales' tails sends water splashing over the deck, seafoam spraying along with it, as everyone is drenched. The raincoat you're wearing does help a little, but some strands of hair still stick stubbornly to your face now that they're wet.

A hand reaches out to brush them away for you, since your own two are occupied with the equipment, and Jake's face—scrunched in careful concentration—appears in your line of sight. “Hold on for a sec. I'll get that for you.” He carefully tucks them away, the warmth of his hands a contrast to the cold from the sea spray.

“There. Potential professional hazard taken care of,” he says, a satisfied grin on his face. Then he reaches out to help steady the sensor you were holding up, his hands curling above yours, letting tops of your fingers brush against the undersides of his.

He stands steady by your side for the entire time you record the data, broad shoulders brushing against yours. The rocking of the boat sends him bumping at you a few times, and he apologises each time with a little sheepish smile and a raise of his eyebrow.

With him keeping the instrument steady, it becomes easier for you to adjust the settings, and you capture the readings without any hitch. Professor Han gives the two of you an approving nod, as she heads to help Sophia.

It's late afternoon when the entire field study is completed, and almost early evening by the time the boat reaches the piers again. Both your professors are extremely satisfied with the data you've collected, and invite Jake to all upcoming field studies in exchange for his help with gathering intel (Professor Neumann even mentions making a special access pass for him!).

Sophia parts ways with you early since she had to go pick up Lara from her university block, leaving you alone with Jake (something you didn't mind). He's brushing his hair to smooth it down, but the windswept strands refuse to cooperate.

In the end, he deems it a fight that he had no chance of winning, and gives up with a huff. “It's like my hair has a mind of its own,” he sighs, shaking his head as one last effort, but it ends up worsening things instead. He lets out a frustrated groan, and you laugh at him.

“Duck your head a little,” you say, and he gives you a confused glance, but complies nonetheless, lowering his head a bit. You run your hands through his hair, untangling the knots carefully, before smoothing it down. As you do, you notice how soft and shiny the locks are between your fingers, and you can't help the tease that slips out. “You sure you're using Layla's pet shampoo for her only? Your hair has a suspiciously glossy softness to it.”

He makes an offended noise at that, head snapping up almost immediately. “I do not! My parents just gave me good genes when it came to hair, thank you very much! And I take good care of my health, which is why my hair is healthy too!”

You laugh at that, hands leaving his hair to pinch his cheek. “Hmm, no. I don't believe you. Sounds like propaganda to me.” He sputters at that, half-annoyed, half-amused. “Propaganda for what, woman?! Haircare?!” You hum at his answer, and reach out to pinch his other cheek too. “It sounds like propaganda to conceal illegal shampoo usage to me.”

He reaches out to pinch both of your cheeks in retaliation, shaking your head from side to side. “You take that back right now, or I'll do much more than just pinch your cheeks.” He seems entirely serious about his threat.

So of course you decide to continue teasing him, and stick your tongue out at him. “No.” He blinks, not expecting your response, before finally letting go of you, and straightening to his full height. He adjusts his watch and ring with a near blank expression, save for a raise of his brow. “No? You're sure about that?”

You bite your lip to keep your grin down, and nod your head with mock seriousness. “I'm sure. It's a no.” He hums for a bit. “I can let you still think about it.” You pretend to give it a thought, before turning to him. “Hm, still a no.” He nods at your answer, sliding his watch back some more. “Okay. You asked for it, then.”

You don't get to question what you asked for, before Jake is grabbing you with an arm wrapped around your middle, and lifting you up into his arms, as he begins to run towards the beach.

You shriek at the sight of the water getting closer, and the bastard has the audacity to laugh at that. “Not so tough now, are we?! I gave you choices. Remember that when you go down!” You scream about your clothes getting wet. He just laughs harder.

When you reach the edge of the water, he pretends to drop you in, and you cling to him like a koala to a branch. He laughs at the sight of you clinging to him, and adjusts his glasses with one hand, while the other still holds you near the water.

“Take it back, and I'll let you go.” You shake your head, pride not allowing you to. “No way! I said what I said!” He raises a brow again, and drops you a little more closer to the water, the ends of your hair now wet from the proximity. “And if I drop you into the water, I did what I did.”

“Okay, okay, I take it back! I take it back!” you yell, and he pulls you to your feet, his arm still wrapped around your middle. “See?” he teases, giving you a lopsided grin, “that wasn't so hard, was it?” You grumble at that, batting at his shoulder like an annoyed cat.

He laughs and takes your hits without complaint, before reaching out to fix your hair again. “Well, are we done with business here, or do you still want to go for a spontaneous dip into the ocean?”

“Of course not,” you grumble, and his arm moves up to wrap around your shoulders instead, as the two of you walk back towards the bus. He huffs out a chuckle, and bends down to pick up your bag that he'd pulled off earlier, and slings it over his shoulder along with his own.

You blink at the sight, and reach for it. “Hey, I can carry it—” He cuts you off with a little 'tch,' holding your bag further away from you. “I know you can. I'm carrying it because I want to.”

“... Seriously?” you deadpan, and he simply flashes a megawatt smile at you. “We've reached the bus. Go on, board it. Ladies first,” he lets go of you and steps aside, gesturing to the open door with one of his hands.

You give him another exasperated look, but quickly climb in to prevent him from seeing the grin on your face. He follows right after, a warm shadow behind you.

Naturally, he takes the seat next to you again, and you raise an eyebrow at him. “The others haven't arrived yet—the entire bus is completely empty save for the two of us, and you still made the choice to sit next to me?”

He stretches languidly in his seat, but still remembers to remain mindful of your space. He answers you with a tilt of his head, like his answer was obvious. “Why wouldn't I sit next to you? I don't know anyone else here. However, I do know you.”

“You've known me for a grand total of two days,” you point out. He shrugs, unbothered. “And? You liked Layla as soon as you saw her picture. I trust anybody who likes my daughter at first glance.” You can't help but laugh at the absurdity of his logic.

“I could like Layla and still be a bad person.” He reaches out to flick your forehead for that, kissing his teeth. “My daughter attracts good vibes and good people only. Do not doubt the power of Sim Layla's cuteness.”

You roll your eyes at that, quietening down as others begin to climb aboard. Jake pulls out a video one of his friends had taken of Layla, and it has you blinking in surprise. “Why on earth is your dog using an Annabelle-lookalike as a chew toy?”

He snorts at your response, shaking his head. “I know, right? I almost had a heart attack when I saw it. But uh, one of my younger friends bought a doll off of the internet, and hung it up in another friend's apartment as a joke because he's absolutely terrified of ghosts.”

“What?” you laugh incredulously at that. “That's so mean!” He agrees with you. “It was! And he had Layla with him because he and another mutual take care of her on Wednesdays for my internship, so he gave it to her, and she turned it into a chew toy. I didn't mean to, but I ended up lecturing him for an hour and a half about letting my baby near suspicious looking things. Who knows what kind of diseases she could've contracted from using that thing as a toy?”

You blink at that. “I wouldn't let Gus near a doll like that because I wouldn't want a demon from hell possessing my sweet boy. I didn't even think about the potential of diseases.” He laughs so hard, he nearly falls off of his seat.

“Oh my god,” he breathes, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “You're going to love my friends then. They've got the exact same thought process that you do.” You roll your eyes at him, muttering under your breath. “He's friends with me for two days, and now he wants me to be friends with his other friends. Tell me you're a dog owner without telling me you're a dog owner.”

He grins at you, having heard what you were muttering. “Hey, anybody who likes Layla gets fast tracked into our friend group. She's our people filter.” You roll your eyes again, and he chuckles, wrapping an arm around your shoulders again. “Hey, don't knock it till you've seen my baby in action. You'll be amazed at what she can do.”

The rest of the bus ride—all the way back to the conservatory—turns into a debate over whether mackerels or sardines are a better source of nutrients for obligate carnivores such as cats, which then turns into you discussing the best method to preserve the nutrients in vegetables for facultative carnivores such as dogs.

The bus driver practically has to yell at the two of you to get down (which you do, with sheepish smiles), before coming to a halt next to your car. Jake finally returns your bag, placing it into the passenger seat, and pulling the seat belt over it so that it wouldn't fall.

“Well, you should get going then,” he finally says, watching as the evening slowly begins to ink the sky a deep shade of blue. “It's pretty late, and I doubt Gus will like it if you come home after your curfew.” You nod, chuckling at him.

“Mhm. I'll see you next week, then?” He gives you a soft smile, watching you get into the driver's seat. “Of course. Just text me what I need to prepare for, and I'll meet you by the otter enclosure.” He watches you pull out of the parking lot, waving you off as you begin to move past him.

The last thing you hear as you drive out of the conservatory is his smug, satisfied yell. “Oh, and I wasn't going to drop you in the water anyways! You gave up all on your own!”

An incredulous chuckle slips out of you before you can control it, but it's too late to turn around, so you just shake your head and drive away.

The audacity of this man, really. Maybe you should let Gus have a little go at him. Perhaps your vet-hating cat could humble him a little.

Gus, it turns out, does absolutely everything else at the veterinary hospital but despise Jake.

His latest vaccine appointment had landed at eleven on a Wednesday, coincidentally landing on one of your days off. Getting him into the carrier hadn't been much of a struggle, since he willingly went in—Lara had however still shown up for minor help and major moral support.

She'd stared blankly at the sight of Gus going into the carrier on his own, before shaking her head. “I wish my cats were this cooperative when it came to carriers.”

You sigh, patting her shoulder. “That's only for now. The Gus you see now, and the Gus at the vet are two different cats.” She snorts at the thought. “Oh, trust me, I know. Sophia's still traumatised from the last time she accompanied you and Gus. “It's like he wasn't Gus back then,” she said, word for word. “It was like a demon had temporarily possessed him.” She hadn't believed me when I told her that was a cat's normal response to a vet.”

You laugh at her words, shaking your head. When you place a blanket over Gus's carrier, he meows once before finally settling down, his purr reverberating in the enclosed space. Making sure to muffle the sound of the vet file, you place it into your bag, along with some treats and one of his favourite toys ― a little stuffed mouse with a feather tail.

Lara takes the bag and locks up behind you, as you take the carrier. The elevator ride is anything but silent, as Lara brings up one of her cats' escapade episodes at the vet. “I swear, she's going to get a spice warning like Gus in all caps in her patient file one of these days,” she sighs, staring at the carrier in your hand. “Why does he hate vets so much, anyways?”

“I'm not sure, but I think he just doesn't like the scent of other animals on them. Or maybe he had a stressful experience at the vet before I got him from the shelter, so there could also be that.”

Lara nods at that, intrigued. “Animal psychologists are so incredible for that,” she hums, “It's hard for us human ones with even talking clients sometimes, but they have to deal with ones that talk, but only in chirps, meows, squeaks or barks.”

“Why are you reflecting on your major all of a sudden?” you give her an incredulous look, as you walk to your car together. “Who are you and what have you done to one of my best friends?”

Lara waits until you safely buckle Gus's carrier into the backseat, before smacking your shoulder. “Can't a girl reminisce a little without being suspected of being three raccoons in a trench coat?”

“So at one point you were three raccoons in a trench coat,” you tease, ducking your head to dodge another whack from her swinging hands. “What? You were so specific, I had to be sure I was still talking to a human and not three raccoons in a trench coat!”

“Ugh. This is why I hate you,” she mutters under her breath. “I say anything ONCE, and you, Manon, and Sophia run with it for this lifetime and the next.” You roll your eyes at her, starting the car. “Yet you're the one who's always dragging us out for girl dates. For someone who “hates” us, you sure do love having us around.”

“Some things are not meant to be spoken out loud! I would've hit you if not for the fact that you're driving and my nephew is in the backseat,” Lara huffs, already pulling up her playlist for the drive. “Count yourself lucky.”

“Oh, fortune must be smiling upon me for sparing me from Lara's wrath,” you snark, turning right at the intersection near the vet hospital. “How blessed I am, truly.”

Lara snorts at that, but quietens down as you pull into the veterinary hospital's parking lot. She reaches out to place a hand on your shoulder, drawing your attention to her as she switches into serious psych major mode. “Okay,” she says, looking into your eyes. “You can do this. We can do this. We can and we will get Gus in and out of there without stressing him out.”

You nod at her with the seriousness of a mortal about to face divine (feline?) judgement, before getting out of the car and rounding to the back to grab the carrier. Gus, having sensed the shift in the air, lets out a low growl.

“Gus Gus, it's just one little injection... Please don't bite the vet,” you grunt, adjusting your grip, “... again.” He shifts in his carrier, spinning hard enough that you can feel it jerk. Lara rushes you across the compound, having already filled out the paperwork in the time while you were trying to calm Gus down.

The staff, used to Gus's volatility, immediately fast track you into the examination room so that Gus isn't more stressed out by the scents of other animals in the building.

The vet nurse, someone who's dealt with Gus since you got him as a little kitten, nods at you as she leaves the room after setting everything up. “We'll have a different vet for Gus today—he's still a student, but I promise you that he's quite competent at what he does. I think he'll do well with Gus.”

You open your mouth, about to request a different vet, but Lara shakes her head. “Hey, sometimes a person doesn't have to be a full-fledged professional to be good at their job. Maybe let's give this person a try? She's known Gus since he was a kitten, after all. I'd trust her judgement, but you're the owner, so it's your call.”

Sighing, you weigh your options. On one hand, a new vet—a student at that—could potentially stress him out more. But on the other hand, Nurse Kim had seen Gus go through vets like they were cardboard against his claws. So for her to personally recommend someone meant that they were good good at their job.

“Okay... Okay,” you nod at Lara, before turning to Gus, letting him sniff your finger through the carrier. “Let's see how this one goes. Who knows? Maybe you'll like coming to the vet after this, Gus Gus.”

Lara gives you a proud smile, before patting your back. “Yeah, there's no harm in giving it a shot. I'll be right here if things go south, okay? We'll call out the big guns if he commits vet-specific violence,” she glances at your bag, where the gabapentin is.

You snort at that, giving Gus a pet through the little window at the back of his carrier. “Just keep an eye out for escape attempts, yeah?” Lara nods at you, moving to sit on one of the chairs, nose wrinkling at the strong smell of disinfectant clinging to it. “... Did this thing just get sanitised? This smells suspiciously clean.”

You're about to reply to Lara when the door swings open gently, and your attention snaps to the doorway. You recognise him by his crocs before you see his face, and you blink at the sight of him. “Jake?”

He gives you a small smile as he adjusts his glasses, hair still just as messy, before walking in with Gus's patient file under his arm. Lara glances at you, then at Jake, then back to you again, before she claps her hands in realisation.

“You're that Jake? Whale evolution guy?” Jake blinks at the way she's referring to him, before laughing at the nickname. “In the flesh,” he gives her a soft grin, holding her hand out for a handshake, which she obliges. “You must be Lara, right? Sophia mentioned you a lot during the whale watch.”

“Oh my god. I made a joke about whale sharks once, and she's still quoting it to new people?” Lara groans, running a hand through her hair.

Jake simply laughs as he rounds the examination table to come stand next to you, his fingers brushing against yours as he sets Gus's file down. “If it helps, I thought it was a clever joke.” She gives him a look of faux offense, but the grin she has gives her away. “I know it's a good joke, but I just wish she'd stop quoting it everywhere.”

“That's just wishful thinking, unfortunately. They never stop once they start,” he says, reading through the file as Lara agrees with a chuckle of her own. “Spice level's ghost pepper, huh?” He continues to scan through the papers, before pausing at a detail in the papers.

His brows furrow just the slightest, and he turns to you, mildly offended. “You didn't tell me that I was dealing with a noble. I would've prepared a more grand welcome, y'know? Pulled out the Fancy Feast and everything.” You blink, flabbergasted for a second. “What?”

He holds up the file to let you see Gus's full legal name written in Lara's handwriting. “Sir Asparagus Meownnaise the Second of the Artichoke-Broccoli Isles. He deserves a welcome worthy of his title, doesn't he?” He shakes his head, as if very disappointed in you, before leaning down to talk to Gus through the carrier's gate.

“Hello, Sir Gus. My apologies for the substandard welcome you're receiving right now. I bet your mom didn't tell the other vets that you were a noble of great station too, right?” Gus meows at him—eyes still blown wide and ears pinned to his head—but already seems much more receptive to Jake.

Jake nods his head at Gus, a serious expression on his face. “A travesty, I know,” he gives you another look of disappointment, though his eyes twinkle with amusement.

“But it's okay. I can fix that.” He slowly pulls away the carrier's gate, and Lara steps up to take it from him. Grabbing a treat from the drawer, he places some onto the floor of Gus's carrier. “Fancy Feast. A cuisine as dignified as you are.”

Gus, never one to refuse food, sniffs hesitantly at the treat. With a little encouragement from you and Lara with a bit of praise, he finally eats some. Jake lets him finish one treat in the carriage, before drawing him out of it with another.

Gus finishes half of the second treat at a safe distance, before abandoning all hesitancy and grabbing Jake's arm with his paws to eat straight from his hands. “There we go. Good boy,” Jake praises him, petting his spine with smooth, long strokes, while you and Lara stare at Gus, gobsmacked.

For a second, you're not sure if it's even your cat that you're seeing right now.

“Did he just...” you whisper in disbelief, as Lara finishes your thought for you, “... tame the demon velociraptor Ragus?” Jake looks up to give both of you a confused look at the new name. “... Ragus?”

You share a look with Lara, and she explains it to him. “... That's what we call Gus's alter ego at the vet. The one that you... uh, seemingly tamed.” Jake blinks, before letting out a breezy laugh as he realises the name's origin. “Ah, “Ragus” from the last five letters of Asparagus. Surprisingly fitting to describe a demon.”

Gus, now having eaten his second treat, pulls away to lick at his mouth. Jake still remains crouched low, holding out a finger for him to sniff. The feline leans forward, sniffing thoroughly at his finger, before he meows softly. Jake pauses for a second, before reaching out with the same finger to scratch between Gus's ears.

Gus lets him do that, and much to your growing disbelief, even begins to purr. “Mhm, there we go. You're okay with this, cutie?” Jake murmurs, moving his hand to give your cat some chin scratches. You think you couldn't be even more surprised, but then Gus proves you wrong.

Catastrophically wrong. Lara lets out a loud gasp, her hands flying to her mouth as Gus pulls out the ultimate trust move: he flops down onto his side, demanding belly rubs from Jake with a long, stretched out meow.

“He isn't even getting nipped!” Lara whisper-yells to you, still mindful of her volume despite her utter disbelief as Jake gives Gus all the belly rubs he wants. “You're the person Gus loves the most in the whole wide world, but even you aren't spared from the bites! You're sure this guy isn't just three fairies in a trench coat or something?”

You snort at her, giving her an incredulous look. “What is it with you, the number three, and that trench coat?”

Lara flashes you a grin. “My signature catchphrase, of course. Manon says I need to have it patented at this point.” You roll your eyes at the mention of Lara's roommate, shaking your head.

“Of course the law major says that to you.” She shrugs, watching as Jake places a stethoscope on Gus, his expression turning to one of mild confusion. “.... Okay,” he finally says, pulling off the instrument, “... we have a little problem on our hands.”

You sit up straighter, concern flickering across your face, as Lara mirrors your expression. “What's wrong? Is he sick?” Jake shakes his head, rubbing his nape.

“No... It's just that he's purring too loud. I can't exactly hear his heartbeat through the steth.” You blink in disbelief, before standing up to grab the stuffed mouse from your bag.

“God. God, you cannot imagine how much I've yearned to have this problem on my hands.” Jake laughs at that, watching as Gus follows the movement of the toy in your hand. He immediately takes the opportunity to check and note the cat's pulse while Gus is still distracted. “Okay, he's good. Consistent rhythm and sound. Now for teeth...”

“Teeth are in good condition... How often do you brush them?” Gus lets Jake poke and prod at his teeth with his gloved finger, and he notes down his readings. “Once every three days, since I don't want to irritate him. I do give him dental treats, though.”

Jake nods at that, and moves to check other parameters like weight and general responsiveness. “Okay. He's doing well overall—you're doing a good job taking care of him. I don't feel any lumps or suspicious masses either, so he's clear in that department too. Today's visit is for a routine vaccination, yes?”

You nod, and he gestures for you to play with Gus. “He's just gone through an examination, so he won't like it if we poke him with a needle right away. The main goal right now is to desensitise whatever hard feelings he has against the vet's office for long term benefit, so let's give him a minute.”

He leans back against the counter, letting Gus run around the exam room as he chases the laser pointer that Lara had brought along. When he's deemed it okay, he crouches to gently stop Gus in his tracks, before picking him up. “Okay, buddy. You can have a conversation with your mom while we get your shots done.”

Gus makes a little “Mrrp!” at you, tucking his legs under him as he sits on the table. Lara taps her fingers against the edge of the metal, keeping Gus engaged, while Jake loads the syringes with practiced efficiency.

He glances at Lara once, before turning back to his work. “Give him a break in between. He might get too excited and pounce when I give him his vaccines.”

Lara nods, and slows the speed of her taps. You talk to Gus about watching Tom and Jerry after getting back home, while Jake discreetly uses an alcohol wipe on his hind leg under the guise of petting. When you get a slow blink from your cat, he quickly gives him the first vaccine before waiting to see his reaction.

When Gus doesn't become aggressive (and judging by the way he's rubbing against Lara's hands), you figure that he didn't realise that he got a shot. Jake gives him the second one on the other side, before finally patting Gus's head. “There we go. You're all done. Good boy, Gus Gus. Well done.”

Your shoulders sag with relief, and Nurse Kim peeks her head in when Jake rings the buzzer, a satisfied yet awed smile on her face. “So this is lover boy Gus? Oh, he's so sweet.” She steps in, reaching out for a pet.

Gus lets her, and also takes the little pocket treat she offers him, crunching away. She pats Jake on the back, a smile on her face. “Well, Doctor Sim, if you could be friends with one of our most notorious patients, I'm sure your internship will be smooth sailing from here onwards.”

Jake shakes his head with a bashful smile. “Gus should be credited for his cooperation, too. Seems he just wanted his aristocratic status to be acknowledged, is all.”

Nurse Kim laughs, giving him another pat on the back, before collecting the used instruments. “We don't have any other patients, so why don't you see Gus off? I'm sure he'd appreciate the send off.”

Jake nods, letting his coat rest on his arm, as he follows you and Lara out of the exam room. Gus sits contently in his carrier, a sight that still feels unreal to you—Lara notices, and takes the carrier from you.

“I'm going to go ahead and get his file updated, okay? See you at the receptionist's desk.” Before you can say anything, she's already off, rounding the corner with quick steps, leaving you alone with Jake in the hallway.

Jake laughs, walking in stride with you. “She's energetic,” he says, referring to Lara. “But she's a great aunt to Gus, I can tell.” You chuckle at that, shaking your head.

“She is, yeah. She, Sophia, and Manon—our other friend—spoil him rotten.” You glance at his waist, where there's no Layla keychain looped into his pant's belt loops. “No Layla accompanying you on duty today?”

He looks down, before laughing. “Unfortunately, no acrylic Layla joining me right now. I took a shower before Gus's appointment and got into fresh scrubs to remove any lingering scents, so I didn't clip it back.”

You hum, nodding at his answer. “But seriously, I can't thank you enough. That's the first time I've seen Gus and not Ragus at an appointment—now I'm even more sure that Leonard and Yun will love you. The otters have a soft spot for gentle people.”

He shakes his head, holding the door open for you. “Oh, please. I did what I had to do. A good rapport with my patients is important if I want to give them the best care possible. Gus is no exception to that, even if he was a little feral.”

“I'll see you tomorrow at the conservatory, then?” He follows after you, watching you sign the papers required to finish the appointment. You nod, giving him a smile, watching as he kisses Gus's head between the ears when he peeks out of his carrier. Lara tucks Gus back in, before heading off to the car. “Of course. Same time, same place. Give me a call if you get lost.”

Jake laughs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders in a side hug, as he pats your back. “Sure, sure. Just don't get too mad if I blow up your phone with calls.” You squeeze him gently, before pulling away. “I doubt I could be mad at you ever again. You're in my list of permanent people now.”

He raises a brow at that, a teasing smile on his face. “So I was in the temporary section the entire time? Good thing I'm friends with Gus now, so you can't demote me ever again.” You shake your head, and he gives your hand one final squeeze before heading off. “See you, then. Give me an update on Gus when you reach home, okay?”

When you get back to the car, Lara is adjusting her hair using the car's mirror, but her manner is far too nonchalant for her to be casual.

“So.... Jake, huh?” You give her a smile, as you buckle in your seatbelt. “Yeah, Jake.” She hums, leaning back into her seat. “He reminds me of a golden retriever. Cute, but also smart.”

Shaking your head, you start the car, pulling out of the parking lot. “You're willingly giving a man a compliment?” Lara rolls her eyes, her fingers tapping away at her phone's screen, possibly texting Sophia and Manon to catch them upto speed. “I give out compliments where they're desrved, alright? And he absolutely deserved one. He sent Ragus on vacation—that alone deserves two compliments.”

The music from Lara's playlist fills the car, as you drive back to your apartment. Lara is asleep in the passenger seat, knocked out from the day. The roads are covered in beams of oranges, reds and pinks from the setting sun, bathing everything in a warmth that feels familiar.

As you glance back at a sleeping Gus in the backseat, a small smile rests on your face, chest warm and full from something other than the mellow orange sunrays.

Good thing Lara convinced you to give Nurse Kim's suggestion a chance—Jake truly did deserve any and all compliments you could give him. Guess vet visits won't be such a battle against feline alter egos from now on, huh?

⚚ ACT THREE: EIGHT LIVES MEET ONE LIFE TO THE MAX

The first time you meet Jake outside of the conservatory corridors and vet visits, it's on a walk with Gus, while Layla accompanies him, tail wagging at speeds you've never seen on a dog before.

Gus, much like a canine, enjoyed his excursions out in the parks, though he did spend a lot more time basking in the sun than doing any actual walking. Armed with a bright, neon pink harness and matching leash—he'd picked it out himself at the pet store—he was constantly drawing attention simply because he was a cat who liked to behave more like a dog.

Yet, he enjoyed the attention thoroughly, purring and rolling over for strangers who wanted to pet him. He soaked up all the praise and coos of “Oh, my god, he's so friendly!” he got like a sponge to water, leaving you to wonder how a cat who loved people so much would turn into a literal nightmare at the vet's.

Until Jake showed up, that is.

Now all of Gus's vet appointments are scheduled for eleven on Wednesdays, the same day Jake drops by for his internship. Gus still purrs as loud as a motorbike, and Jake still pulls out the Fancy Feast treats for him, sometimes even throwing in a can of Royal Canin as a reward for good behaviour. Oh, and of course, no vet visit ended without a kiss to Gus's head from Jake, which was something the feline was shamelessly fond of.

You're leaning against an old oak tree, watching Gus sniff at a clover on the ground with the precision of a forensic investigator, when a familiar voice rings out. “Layla, baby, some of us still run on two legs only! Slow down a little!”

Gus perks up at the sound of his other favourite human's voice, ears swiveling in all directions as he tries to pinpoint Jake's location. A few rustling bushes nearby have you step away from the tree, and then out pops from the leaves a head of white fur you've seen in pictures so many times now.

Layla pants in what you assume to be excitement, before she jumps out of the shrubbery. Jake follows behind her, a few leaves stuck in his messy mop of hair, his glasses slightly askew.

Gus meows loudly at the sight of Jake, who immediately recognises him—and in turn, you—with a loud gasp. “Gus Gus! Are you out for a walk with mom today?”

Gus makes another loud, stretched out meow, his tail standing pin straight. Jake's still struggling with Layla's sudden burst of energy, but with a soft command of “Layla, be good,” he gets her to calm down just enough that the two of them can approach you.

He still makes sure to maintain an appropriate amount of distance between her and Gus, keeping a firm hold on her collar as he crouches down to let Gus sniff at his finger first.

Gus sniffs his finger for a mere fraction of a second, before he's already bumping his head against Jake's hand and flopping onto his side to ask for pets. Jake happily obliges him, even giving him some chin scratches without being prompted to, which makes the feline purr even louder in satisfaction.

In the meantime, Layla—despite the grip Jake has on her collar—steps closer to sniff at your shoes, before letting out a mellowed, curious bark. Her tail wags softly, brushing against your pants.

“Hi, Layla,” you coo, crouching down to give her head pats. She happily accepts them, and Jake, with a glance towards you and Layla, lets go of her collar, trusting her to behave.

Layla sits down in front of you, wet nose bumping into your hands as she takes all the pets she can get from you. “You're such a pretty girl. Did dad bring you out for a walk, sweetheart?”

She barks twice at that, tail wagging in excitement, before spinning in a little circle. “She insisted on deviating from our usual routine,” Jake explains, cradling Gus like a baby. “And somehow she led me to the two of you.”

You snort at the sight of your cat being carried around like a furry tangerine toddler, though Gus himself seems to have no qualms about the attention he's receiving.

“Are you sure it was Layla and not you who wanted to see me and Gus?” you tease, and Jake flushes slightly, a gentle red tint colouring his ears. “It wasn't me, it really was Layla—not that I don't want to see you two!”

You laugh, before yelping as Layla places her paws onto your legs so that she can give you doggy kisses. “Oh, Layla! That surprised me!” Jake laughs at the sight of it, giving you a smug smirk. “Told you, my daughter is an excellent people filter.” Gus looks down at you and Layla from his arms, letting out a little “Mrrp!” in curiosity.

Layla, once she's satisfied with the amount of kisses she's given you, steps back to sit next to Jake, just as Gus jumps down from his arms to brush against your legs.

He gives you a gentle headbutt, before turning to face Layla, who crouches down to sniff at him curiously. Perhaps finding Jake's scent all over him helps, because then she crouches low to the ground, tail still wagging, as she asks Gus to play with her.

Gus sniffs her cautiously, and Layla remembers to stay low so as to not startle him. He takes his sweet time, even placing one paw on hers to sniff at her fur better. When he's sure of what—or rather, who—he's smelling, he rolls over to lay in between her paws, resting his head against her.

Jake raises a brow at the two animals, before chuckling softly. “Of course they'd be friends,” he says, an amused yet affectionate gleam in his eyes. “Both of them like pink accessories. Look, they're even matching.” He points out the pink harnesses and leashes that both Gus and Layla are sporting. “Similar shades, too.”

You shake your head, pulling your phone out to snap a picture. “Guess we were meant to meet today, after all. Gosh, how cute. Layla, Gus! Look here!” Both the animals tilt their heads at the camera, and you quickly snap a picture.

Jake leans over your shoulder to see it better, and coos at the picture. “Oh, they're so cute. They even do the little head tilts like each other! Do you mind sending me that picture?”

“Of course not,” you reply, already pulling up his contact to forward the image to him. His phone lights up, and he immediately moves to set the picture as his profile.

“That looks good. Two of my favourite animals in the same photo is all that I needed.” When he looks back to see you, he blinks in confusion, tilting his head like Gus and Layla had done a moment ago. “... What are you laughing for?”

Biting down on your lip to suppress the grin on your face, you reach up to brush the leaves out of his hair. “You've got a little something in your hair. Trying to cosplay a tanuki, are we?” Jake blinks, before laughing as he bends down a little to let you get the rest of the leaves out of his hair.

“Ah, Layla, why did you have to run through the bushes like that? Now Dad has all sorts of leaves and twigs in his hair.” Layla barks at the sound of her name, before going back to playing with Gus, who's content to bat a paw at Layla to play. You laugh at the way Layla doesn't care about having her face squished, content to let your little orange boy play hide and seek with her fur.

“Am I going to find orange fur on my clothes now, like white wasn't enough already?” Jake sighs in fond annoyance, shaking his head at the thought of more visible fur showing up on his clothes.

Both Layla and Gus make little noises at him, before going back to rolling in the grass. “Gus, you're gonna get dust all over you!” you exclaim, watching in affectionate exasperation as your cat ignores your protests in favour of Layla.

Jake snorts quietly, before wordlessly handing you a wet wipe from the little backpack slung on his shoulder. He crouches down to wipe Layla's paws, before slipping on some dog booties onto her feet.

“This is why I always come prepared. There's no telling when Layla ropes in another pet into doing something she wants to,” he says, reaching out to adjust Gus's harness after you finish wiping his paws as well. “I think I still have a pair of Layla's booties from when she was smaller in the car—they should be able to fit Gus.”

“Gus doesn't really wear stuff like boots, unfortunately,” you sigh, and Jake gives you a quizzical look at that. “Really?” You nod, picking up Gus. “Really. Trust me, I've tried. He doesn't want to cooperate—he doesn't let me fasten the straps at all.” Jake hums, observing Gus for a moment, before standing up and brushing the dust off of his knees.

“Let me try once, then. No harm in giving it a try, right?” He flashes you a bright grin, before turning to Layla, tapping his thigh once. “Stay here for a second, okay? I'll be back.” Layla yips twice, before settling back down again—but this time she opts to sit closer to you. Jake returns a little while later, two tiny dog booties clutched in his hand.

He crouches back down, sitting in front of you, before reaching out to pet Gus. “Hey, Gus Gus. We're just gonna try something out, okay?” Gus licks his mouth, and watches Jake closely. It's kinda insulting at this point, really, how much your cat seems to adore Jake.

“Angle him downwards a little,” he says, and you follow, adjusting your grip on Gus. When you notice the type of boots he's holding, a little noise of acknowledgement escapes you.

“Are those the lacing kind?” Jake nods, quickly fastening the boots around Gus's feet. “Mhm. Layla doesn't like the velcro ones either. I assume she finds them very restrictive, so I think that's the problem for Gus as well.”

Gus meows once, flexing his feet in the boots. You let him down gently, and he makes two stomps, as if trying to get used to the foreign feeling of leather on his feet. Jake whistles softly, patting his thigh to draw Gus's attention towards him.

But before Gus can take another step towards him, Layla's already at Jake's side, licking his face and sending his glasses more off course. “Layla, baby, that wasn't a call for you,” he gasps, mid-laugh. Layla, however, couldn't care less, and continues her wet nosed assault of doggy kisses.

He finally manages to get her to sit next to him, and this time, he uses a different whistle to call for Gus's attention. “Come here, Gus Gus.” The feline takes a hesitant step, but when you praise him, he takes another step forward.

Slowly, he walks ahead, gaining more confidence with every word of encouragement he receives, before eventually reaching Jake.

He stands on two feet, rubbing against Jake's chin. “Good boy,” Jake smoothes a hand over Gus's spine, and the sound of purring echoes again. “You did very well, sweetie. Do you want a treat?” Gus meows at the word 'treat,' and runs back to you when he hears you pull out the treats from your bag.

You give him two of the pocket treats, and he crunches them up, licking your hand to get any last crumbs before sitting back on his haunches, rather content with himself.

Jake offers you a hand to help you—and just like the day at the beach—you end up stumbling into him due to the force he uses to pull you up. His arm comes to wrap around your middle, and he lets out a breathy laugh. “Easy there,” he holds you close, his grip firm to prevent any accidents. “Wouldn't want you eating grass like a herbivore, would we now?”

You open your mouth to retort, but those eyes of his, filled with just so much warmth, end up freezing you in place. You're close enough that you can smell the faint scent of his cologne—a light, airy fragrance, like coconut and cinnamon—and Jake's grip on you subtly tightens, fingers flexing just a little more to hold you closer. “What,” he teases, snickering softly, “did a little Gus get your tongue?”

Something in you decides that he needs to shut up. So you make him.

Reaching up to adjust his glasses, you feel the way his breathing gets heavier as your fingers brush against his skin. “Not really,” you hum, voice casual as you brush away some of his hair from his face, “just trying not to laugh at how stupid you can look with your glasses all messed up like that.”

He scoffs, a little smirk tugging at his mouth—one that he tries to tamp down by biting his lip—before turning to you again. “I look stupid, huh? Are you sure about that?”

Stupidly cute. Stupidly handsome. Yet the words don't leave your mouth—instead you flick his forehead, and he lets go of you with a yelp, hands reaching up to rub it. “Meanie,” he pouts, and you resist the urge to coo at him. “Gus, are you seeing this? Your mother's so mean to me.”

Layla barks once, before coming to sit next to you, as if taking your side. Jake stares in mild offense at her, his eye twitching just the slightest, and you have to try your hardest not to burst out laughing.

“Layla,” he whispers, “you've only known her for an hour. You're still gonna take her side over mine?” She only yips at him, before the border collie's nudging your hand for pets again. You laugh this time, as Jake stares at her in betrayal.

“Guess she likes me more,” you tease, and he shakes his head, pretending to be annoyed, but his grin gives him away. “Fine, fine. I suppose I can... concede first place in Layla's heart to you.” Then, as if to add salt to his metaphorical wounds, Gus also trots over to you, purring as he sits by your feet.

“Really?” Jake huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “You're gonna hog both of them?” You shrug, teasing him. “What can I say? Animals just love me.” He rolls his eyes at that, narrowing them dramatically at you. “Oh, do they? Let's see how much they love you...” he steps forward, a smirk on his face, “.... when I do this!”

Jake moves to grab you, but misses when you move to the side. He takes the momentary setback to his advantage instead, chasing you around the park.

“C'mere! I'm not letting you off today!” he hollers, pretending to swipe at you, while you shriek in laughter at him. Layla runs in circles around the two of you, tongue out and tail wagging at record speeds in her excitement, while Gus weaves in and out between your feet.

“Woah, watch out for Gus!” you yell, screaming again as you barely manage to get away, Jake's fingers brushing against your arm. He makes a quick glance at his feet, noting Gus's presence, before lunging at you again. “Nice try! You're not getting away this time!”

Layla seems to be on her dad's side this time, because before you notice it, she's already herded you back to Jake. “Gotcha,” he whispers, wrapping both arms around you from the back, as he lifts you up. “I always knew my daughter was gonna be on my side. Now what do we do with you, hm?”

You yell and kick your feet in the air, but he simply tightens his grip on you, heading away from the grass to the pathway. There, he sets you down on the concrete, but doesn't let go of you just yet.

“Oh, I know what we can do with you.” He grins, handing Gus's leash to you, fixing your tousled hair for you. “You and Gus are going to accompany Layla and I to the café down the second street. They make really good petcups.”

“Do I even get a choice?” you question, Gus on your left, already beginning to walk besides him. He flashes you a saccharine smile, as Layla takes the space to his right.

“No.” You roll your eyes, scoffing at him. “I figured.” He pokes your temple, then wraps his arm around your shoulders. “Smart girl. Now onwards! Their blueberry croissants sell out real fast, so chop chop!”

Layla and Gus walk a beat faster than the two of you, the two of them in step with each other, side by side in matching booties and harnesses. The late afternoon mellows the sunlight to something more pleasant, and the trees cast shadows with their leaves, leaving little pockets of light on the concrete that become a game for the two pets.

Jake draws you closer to him when someone passes the four of you, unapologetic about having you stay near him. He just gives you another innocent grin, leaving you shaking your head at him. His warmth curls around you in a comfortable way.

As you watch Gus and Layla chase the little patches of light, while Jake yells at them to be careful, a familiar feeling makes itself home, the same way it has been doing for the past few days—warm and fuzzy like cottony rabbits, gently resting in the hollow of your chest, right next to your fluttering heart.

Would this be a date? You're not sure. But it never hurt a girl to daydream, did it? Maybe this can remain between the two of you for a little while longer.

With a silent glance at each other, both Sunghoon and Jay decide that Jake's chipper-than-usual mood these past few days has been rather suspicious.

They stare at him, watching as he hums to himself while making popcorn for boys' night at Sunghoon's apartment. The others had been busy, swamped with assignments and deadlines, so it was just the three of them for tonight.

“He's been grinning like an idiot for twenty minutes more than he usually does,” Sunghoon whispers to Jay, giving Jake a side eye. “Also, he's being rather liberal with the salt on the popcorn... Wouldn't he have stopped adding it by now?”

Jay, still keeping the smile on his face so that Jake wouldn't be suspicious, whispers back. “Are you trying to figure out what's got him so happy, or are you trying to criticise his sodium intake?”

“Can't I do both?” Sunghoon shoots back, leaning against the counter casually as Jake passes by him. “I'm even more suspicious now because he hasn't asked to see Zootopia at all till now. He usually asks at least once every movie night, if Jungwon doesn't do it before him.”

Jay, unable to deny the truth in his words, simply sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So what do you want to do? Corner him? Go through his phone? Threaten to withhold any further screenings of Zootopia and Zootopia 2 till he cracks and confesses?”

“Exactly,” Sunghoon snaps his fingers at Jay, “banning screenings of Zootopia and Zootopia 2 will get him. And if it doesn't, Jungwon will get him before we do.” Jay facepalms, muttering an “I'm surrounded by idiots,” under his breath as he moves to grab the drinks.

Sunghoon, now sure that he must execute his plan, grabs the TV remote before anybody else does. He flops onto the couch, hoarding an entire blanket for himself, as he waits for Jay and Jake, who appear soon after, drinks and popcorn in hand.

Jake sets the bowl onto the table, sitting down in the middle, while Jay takes his other side, handing him and Sunghoon a cup of lemon soda each.

“What are we going to watch?” Jay questions, leaning back into his seat. Sunghoon catches his eye over Jake's head, gesturing to the remote in his hand.

Jay sighs, before finally speaking up, trying to be as casual as possible. “... So, Jake. That's... a cute new profile picture you have now.” Sunghoon cringes at his attempt at an interrogation, but Jake answers him anyways.

“Oh, that's Gus! He's one of my patients at the hospital, but his mom is a friend of mine. She took the picture, actually. We met by coincidence at the park, and Layla was smitten with him. She's good at photography, right? They're so cute, I had to immediately make it my profile.”

Sunghoon, having found his prey, sinks his fangs in. “She? Sim, you didn't tell me you had a girl friend.” Jake blinks at him, confused. “Hoon, she's... she's not my girlfriend.”

Jay coughs into his hand to stifle his laughter, while Sunghoon continues, a grin on his face. “I never said she was your girlfriend. I said she was your girl friend—a girl who's your friend. No one mentioned romance around here, so why are you bringing it up, hm?”

Jake chokes on his drink, coughing as Jay rubs his back. “I—I wasn't thinking about that,” he breathes out, wiping his mouth with a tissue. “No one said anything about dating.”

Jay takes the lead this time, sipping leisurely on his glass of soda. “Yeah, genius. We didn't say anything about dating. You're the only one bringing it up. You wanna share something with the class?”

Jake—to his credit—tries to deflect the topic, bringing up the fact they haven't picked a title to watch yet. “Yeah. What I wanna share is that we haven't picked anything to watch yet. If you two don't have any ideas, I nominate Zootopia 2.”

Sunghoon's grin widens, and he brandishes the remote like a trophy. “Confess, or we ban the Zootopia series till you do. Do you really want to fight an annoyed Jungwon, Jakey?”

Jake stares at him for a second, before groaning and holding his head in his hands. “Seriously, ah! I can't believe you'd hold Nick Wilde hostage of all things!” He squirms in his seat, sitting back up with a huff, blowing his bangs out of his face. “I hate you two.” Jay laughs, pinching his cheek. “So cute. We love you too, even if you behave like a sulking puppy at times.”

Sunghoon crowds into his space from the other side, wiggling his fingers in a pathetic attempt to “hypnotise” Jake. “Come on, come on. Spill it out. Spare no details.” Jake slaps his hands away, holding up a pillow like it's a shield.

“Get away, you nosy asses! Even Layla doesn't stick her nose into my stuff this much!” Jay snorts at that, giving Jake's cup a refill. “Layla sticks her nose into your things literally. We do it metaphorically. Now talk, Sim. Don't you want to see Mr Big and his skunk fur rug again?”

Jake groans, punching the pillow in his lap, before sitting up with a huff. “Fine. Fine, I'll talk!” Sunghoon and Jay cheer at that, giving each other a high five.

“So...” Sunghoon drawls, a teasing smirk on his face. “... You like her?” Jake flushes at the question, and Jay cackles loudly, clutching his stomach. “Oh my god! You must really like her to have your body answer before you do!”

“Hey, hey. Stop distracting him,” Sunghoon nudges Jay with his foot, before turning back to Jake. “Yeah, buddy. I'm gonna need more details than that. Where did you meet her? How long have you known her? Does she like Layla? Are you mentally ready to co-parent an orange cat?”

Jake blinks at the rapid influx of questions, but tries his best to answer them. “I met her at the conservatory, I've known her a few months now, she liked Layla without actually meeting her and... I'm already Gus's chosen vet.”

Both Sunghoon and Jay share a look of realisation at that. “Wait... She's the one who took you whale watching and recommended you for the otter study?” Jake nods, a bashful smile on his face. Jay slaps his shoulder, before pulling him into a side hug. “Ay, look at that grin he has! You're done for, dude. You're so done for.”

Sunghoon snaps his fingers, a teasing lilt to his voice. “So when do we get to meet future Mrs Sim? Do I have to plan a wedding already?” Jake groans at that, but the grin on his face tells another story. “Oh, shush. I don't even know if she likes me back!”

Jay rolls his eyes, but offers a comforting squeeze to Jake's shoulders. “Jake, I love you, I really do, but I can't sit here and watch you fumble this. She literally took you whale watching. That's got to be like... the most romantic thing in you guys' language. And you said she trusts you with her fur baby? You honestly can't be that blind.”

“Maybe we need to get him an extra pair of glasses,” Sunghoon grins, “preferably a rose tinted pair. Let him see the love in the air a little.” Jake sighs, but gives them another fond grin. “I really hate you guys.”

“We love you too, Jakey,” the two of them wink at him, already pulling up Zootopia 2 to watch. Sunghoon, now satisfied with the level of information he has, slings an arm over the back of the couch. “Now who's ready to see a bunny and a fox be the cutest pair of cops? Maybe they'll give you a little confession inspiration.”

He dodges the pillow thrown at his head, joining Jay who's already laughing. Jake huffs and shakes his head, biting down on his lip to hide his little smile as he settles down to finally watch the animated feature, Nick Wilde now no longer held hostage.

What a nosy, nosy pair of friends he had. Perhaps he could take their advice and take you out on a date—the new cat café downtown did have pretty good reviews, after all.

⚚ ACT FOUR: EIGHT LIVES VS ONE DOG WHO LOVES THEM ALL

When Jake joked about wanting to see Gus get jealous, he hadn't expected the universe to take that as a personal challenge.

It happened so fast, he didn't even have time to process what was going on. One moment he was speaking with you while you made tea in your kitchen (he'd brought Layla over to yours for a playdate with Gus), the next moment Gus was leaping onto the counter, a tuft of suspiciously Layla-like fur in his mouth.

He'd stared at the cat for a moment, turned to stare at you, before looking back at Gus again, taking in the sight of him holding up the fur like a little trophy. Then, he'd scrambled off of his seat, nearly dropping his tea mug in his haste to get to Layla.

“Layla! Layla!” he calls out, with you following right behind. The clicking of dog paws against floors rings out first, before Layla shows up looking... perfectly normal? His face furrows in confusion, but he kneels down to check up on her anyway.

“Oh my god, I'm so sorry! I didn't realise Gus would swipe at her since they were getting along so well! He usually does get along well with dogs... I don't know why he's doing this now,” you breathe out next to him, and the look of pure concern on your face for his four legged daughter has his heart doing somersaults at a perfectly inappropriate time.

“It's okay,” he says, running his hands over Layla—partly to check up on her, partly to avoid eye contact with you—and sighs in relief when he finds no blood or injuries. “I think they were just play fighting.”

As he runs his fingers through her fur, more tufts come free with each stroke, and he sighs at that. “She's... shedding. Gus pulled off a loose tuft—he didn't rip anything out. She's not hurt.” He hears you take an audible sigh of relief, holding a hand to your chest.

“Oh thank goodness. I thought he'd really hurt her.” He shakes his head, laughing softly as he cups Layla's little face in his hands. “Were you playing with Gus Gus, Layla?”

She yips at that, tail wagging faster at the mention of Gus's name. The cat himself comes to sit next to your leg, licking his mouth as he watches Jake and Layla with an intensity that's borderline obsessive.

“Woah, Gus. Why're you staring at him like that?” You blink at him, and Gus turns to give you a sweet slow blink, before returning his attention to Layla and Jake.

Layla's standing on her haunches now, front legs resting on his shoulders as she covers his face in doggy kisses, sending his glasses off-center with the loving force behind them.

“Layla, Layla,” Jake chuckles, being forced to sit down, as Layla uses the opportunity to plant more licks and kisses. “Easy, girl. Easy. Dad's okay. I was just worried about you.”

He scratches the fur under her baby pink collar, and her tail begins to nearly sweep your floor with how fast she's wagging it. You pet Gus, and he purrs, brushing his head against your knees, his tail standing pin straight.

Then, just as everything seems to have gone back to normal... it happens.

As soon as Jake cups Layla's face and plants a kiss between her ears, Gus—who'd been happily purring away by your feet—lets out a little hiss, his tail now swishing slowly in mild annoyance. Jake blinks in surprise at that, still holding Layla. “Is he... Is he hissing at me?” You glance at Jake, then at Gus, before looking back at Jake.

“... Pet Layla, would you?” Jake does as you say, smoothing his hands over the border collie's fur. Gus goes back to being calm, purring again. You watch him closely, before nodding at Jake again. “Now kiss her head like you did earlier.” Jake, although very much confused, kisses the top of Layla's head again.

The moment his lips touch the space between her ears, Gus bristles and lets out another hiss. Jake's brow furrows, and he kisses Layla's cheek. Gus is calm again, purring once more. Jake stares at him, and while maintaining eye contact with the feline, leans down to kiss her head again.

Gus reacts immediately, hissing again, his tail swishing rather wildly now. You reach out to pet and kiss Layla, but it doesn't elicit the same kind of reaction from the cat. Jake repeats the action of kissing Layla's head a few more times, and Gus hisses every single time. Finally, Jake pulls away, pushing his glasses back into place, reaches out to pick Gus up.

There's an amused lilt to his voice, as he coos at Gus, having figured out what's going on. “Aw, Gus Gus, are you jealous? You don't like it when I kiss Layla's head?” Gus immediately meows, paws reaching up to rest on Jake's face. He laughs, moving to cradle the cat.

You stare down at the feline, watching him in fond exasperation as he begins to purr louder, shamelessly getting his fill of kisses from Jake. “... Seriously? You're not mad that he's kissing Layla, but you're mad because he's kissing her head? Gus, you're so weird at times.”

Layla barks, crouching low, resting her head against Jake's thigh. Gus lets out a little “Mrow,” slumping over Jake's hands like liquid, before immediately beginning to groom Layla. He's annoyingly thorough with it too, placing a paw on her collar to keep her in place, as he leaves Jake's grip to have better posture.

“See? All good.” Jake gives you a lopsided grin—letting go of Gus, who curls into Layla's side—and scoots back to sit next to you, his back to the couch. His arm brushes against yours as he moves to sit comfortably, before resting his head against your shoulder.

He huffs out a chuckle at the sight of your pets playing together again—Layla nudges her favourite squeaky ball towards Gus, who flicks it for her to fetch—the sound warm, and rumbling through his chest.

He pulls out his phone to record a video of them, snorting under his breath when they do something particularly stupid. “Look at them,” he says, holding the device to show you the footage, “they're so cute. I'm so glad they get along so well.”

He clutches his chest dramatically when they curl up together in the dog bed you'd bought for Layla, his breath warm against your skin as he whispers to you, trying not to disturb the animals. “Oh my god. I'm going to die of cuteness... Ah, I just wanna squish them.”

You snort at that, pinching his cheek, whispering just as quietly. “Rein in that cuteness aggression, please. They'll never cuddle together again if you wake them up now.” He rolls his eyes, hand reaching out to play with your fingers, before he playfully pretends to nip at them.

“Oi! What's that for?” you huff, nudging his leg with yours. Jake lifts his head from your shoulder, teasing grin on his face. “Hey, I have to get this cuteness aggression out somehow. You're the perfect alternative outlet.”

You scoff, flicking his forehead again. “Idiot. You're lucky I find you endearing.” He raises a brow at that, sitting up straighter. “... That's interesting.”

You freeze for a moment at his tone, before turning your head to glare at him. “Jake.” He laughs at the threat in your voice, raising his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I'm sorry,” he chuckles, reaching out to wrap his arm around your shoulders and pulls you to his side. “I won't do it again.”

You roll your eyes again, resting your head on his chest, feeling the soft thumping of his heart against your ear. “... You're really an idiot.” He hums, carding his fingers through your hair, as he rests his head against the cushions.

“Yeah, I suppose I am an idiot.” The way he says it feels like there's more to the words, but when you finally lift your head to look up at him, he's already closed his eyes, breathing softly as he sleeps.

You sweep your gaze around your apartment, watching the way the late afternoon lights it up in hues of mellow white gold. Gus and Layla are cuddled together, exhausted from all the running and playing.

Jake slumbers at your side, his head now resting on top of yours, fingers wrapped around your arm. Huffing out a soft chuckle, you curl into his side again, and let the steady drumming of his heart lull you to sleep with the rest of them.

You'll have to apologise to Manon later, perhaps with a treat at the café. Lazy afternoons are indeed much more enjoyable, especially with the right people around.

⚚ EPILOGUE: NINE LIVES ONCE MORE

For a second, Jake wonders if his glasses have failed him. But when he takes them off, and still sees that man standing next to you like he belonged there—which he didn't, of course—he feels an ugly, heavy weight curl itself into the hollow of his chest.

He gives a half-hearted response to the classmate showing him a field report on her file, his gaze still locked on you from across the entrance hall of the marine biology building. He bristles when the man leans over your shoulder to take a better look at the papers in your hands, his arm coming around you to hold them up better.

Manon stands on your other side, dressed in a crisp suit, just having returned from a mock court. Her easygoing demeanour with the man tells him that you're familiar with him to some capacity as well, and the thought of it has his ears turning red in annoyance.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

The elective class he'd signed up for—Marine Mammalogy, Intermediate Level—was supposed to be one he shared with you. In fact, he should be sitting next to you right now, exchanging notes for the class.

Instead, he's stuck with the rest of his classmates (no offense to them, but they're kind of the last people he wants to see at the moment), just because Professor Choi decided that it would be a good idea to split the class based on their majors, since the methodology of teaching would be different depending on it. Curse interdisciplinary dynamics. They could burn in a pit for all he cared.

But even if Jake didn't care much about said methodologies, Sim Jaeyun did. So he rips his gaze away from you, turns back to his classmate, and tries to pretend that he can still hear her over the sound of his own heartbeat rushing in his ears.

“Yeah,” he smiles, all teeth and no warmth, gulping down the fury bubbling in his throat. “That's an interesting case. Fur seals do have an intricate foraging cycle. How'd you get your data?”

The girl preens at his praise, tucking her hair behind her ear as she begins to ramble about how hard it was to secure an opportunity to study the seals during an exchange programme.

Jake usually would've felt bad about not giving her his full attention—especially since he could see that she's clearly passionate about the topic—but at the moment he couldn't care any less, social courtesies be damned, because he can still see that man speaking to you from his peripheral vision.

Oh. Oh. He's making you laugh now.

“Hey,” he interrupts his peer, flashing her an apologetic smile and hopes that it would be convincing enough. “That's a great deal of care you've poured into your research—admirable, really—but I'm kinda busy at the moment. How about we catch up on it sometime later? I've still got my own studies to do on the marine otters.”

The girl blinks, before nodding at him, although very visibly disappointed. She wishes him luck for his own studies, and goes off to socialise with her friends with a “See you later, Jake!” that has him biting his cheek in irritation he doesn't quite understand.

He takes a deep breath, and rolls his shoulders in an attempt to calm down. It almost works, and he feels his elevated pulse slowly begin to descend—until his ears pick up on the sound of your loud laughter. Then his heart rate shoots back up, spiking into a crescendo of annoyance and fury.

He can hear Manon laugh with you, but it's the way you laugh that stands out to him. Loud, free, and most importantly, happy. He knows that laugh. It's the type of laughter that spills out of you when you're talking about Gus. It's the same laughter he's heard when you talk about Sophia, Lara and Manon. He's memorised it to be the sound of laughter that bubbles out when it comes to the people you love.

So why is this no-name bastard earning the privilege of being able to hear you laugh like that?

Against his will, he turns to look back at you. But instead of finding your eyes, it's Manon's that he finds. She raises an inquisitive brow at him, before she looks back at you, where you're still talking to that man.

Her gaze returns to Jake again, and he doesn't know what kind of expression he's making, but what he does know is that it's the reason why that stupid, smug smirk slowly curls onto her face. Then, to his confusion, she pretends that the entire interaction didn't occur, and turns to talk to you again.

The angle she's standing at blocks his view of you and the stranger, and he absolutely hates that he can't see your expressions any longer. He can't see those eyes that say more than what your mouth does. He can't see if you're grinning at him, or if you're giving him one of those teasing smirks he's come to be so fond of.

All he sees is the back of Manon's head, all he hears is the combined sound of another round of laughter, and it all drives him fucking crazy.

His head feels like it's being dunked underwater. He hates it. He wants to go to you, see what's actually going on. He wants to see those pretty eyes that shine with so much love and care for beings that don't speak the same language you do, yet you understand them all the same.

He wants to see you smile at him, tease him with that airy little lilt in your voice. He wants to listen to you talk for hours about Gus, and he wants to hold your hand through it all. Yet his feet feel heavy, like lead and metal have replaced bone and sinew, and he stays rooted to his spot.

He snaps out of his daze when Professor Choi calls for him, and with a final glance at you, the stranger, and Manon still engaged in conversation, he forces his feet to walk away, no matter how much he wants to stay. He greets the older man with a polite smile, and offers to carry the books he's carrying.

Professor Choi laughs and brushes him off with a clap on his shoulder, as he pulls Jake along with him to study sea lion skeletons. The sound of your laughter is one he can still hear, but the further he walks away, the more it fades away. And for some reason unbeknownst to him, for a moment, it really does feel like you're actually slipping through his fingers.

He shakes his head, giving the excuse of adjusting his vision to the low blue lights when the professor sends him a concerned glance. He holds the strap of his bag tighter, following him through the hallways, and into the specimen room.

Slipping the bag off and placing it onto a chair, he methodically washes his hands, before snapping on a pair of gloves. As Professor Choi takes the lead of the class, he lets his gaze wander over the various skeletons and preserved specimens in the jars on the shelves.

Hopefully the smell of formaldehyde would numb the ache in his chest better than the paltry reassurances he can offer himself ever could.

Manon's smug smirk is the first thing you see after sending off Nicholas.

“... What?” you ask warily, because the only time Manon ever wears that expression is when she's ready to cause trouble. “Oh, it's nothing,” she says, voice a little too airy to be casual. “Just came to the realisation that you have the spatial awareness of a three year old.”

“... What?” you echo, an incredulous look on your face. “Manon, I'm not sure I understand what you're talking about.” Manon clicks her teeth, before looping her arm through yours, and drags you to the café on the campus, her heels clicking against the floors with a sharp sound.

“I figured,” she says, steering you through the crowd of students, “and that's why I'm here—to stage an intervention, before you fumble this spectacularly. I thought Sophia and Lara were joking when they said it, but really, you're more deserving of the title of “Scaredy Cat” than Gus—the actual cat—ever will be.”

She pulls you inside the building, flashing the barista a charming smile, before she drags you over to the booths at the back and forces you to sit down. “Sit,” she practically forces you into the seat, before taking the one across from you. “What do you want to drink?”

The sudden change in her demeanour leaves you flabbergasted, but you tell her what you want anyways. She gives the waitress a smile as she tells her your orders. “An iced americano, and a mint lemonade, please.” The waitress notes them down, before leaving with the menu.

Manon turns back to you, and crosses her arms over her chest. Suddenly, you feel like you're on the witness stand, about to be cross-examined. Her expression is rather serious, and she crosses her ankles, leaning back into the seat.

“I'm going to ask you some questions,” she drawls, “and you're going to answer all of them. Honestly. Alright?” You nod nervously, pinned underneath her expectant stare.

“First question,” she lays her eyes on you, her expression completely blank. “Do you like him?”

You sputter at that, choking on your glass of water. “What the hell, Manon?!” She remains unaffected, and merely hands you a napkin before continuing her questioning.

“Answer the question. Do you, or do you not like Sim Jaeyun?” You stare at her, eye twitching in mild irritation. But you answer her anyways, clearing your throat rather obnoxiously. “... I do.”

Manon nods, tapping her fingers against her arm. “Second question. Why haven't you confessed to him yet?” Your eye twitches harder at that question. Manon raises an eyebrow at the way your grip tightens on the glass in your hand, but says nothing about it. “I'm not a hundred percent sure if he likes me back. I don't want to ruin what we have.”

“Liar,” Manon quips, a smile beginning to tug at her mouth, satisfied that you're right where she wants you to be. “I'll give you another chance. Answer honestly.” You sigh, shaking your head as you realise that there's no place you can hide in, without Manon digging away at your composure.

So you decide to be honest instead.

“I'm... scared,” you pause, watching your friend's expression closely, “of how much I like him. He's always there, like a lingering presence... And, and Gus loves him so much. I don't want him to lose that bond just because I read too much and too wrong into things.”

Manon's expression softens, and she reaches out to hold your hands in hers. “Hey, look at me.” She waits till you make proper eye contact with her, rubbing soothing circles into your palms. “You've always trusted your gut before, and it's helped you out so much. Why not trust in what you feel now as well?”

You let out a shaky breath, and Manon squeezes your fingers just a bit tighter. “.... What if I'm wrong?”

“What if you're right?” she doesn't hesitate, raising an eyebrow at you. “What if you're right, and you lose what you could have just because you're too into your head?” Your breath hitches, and you stare at her. The noise of the café begins to fade away into background noise, the firm grip Manon has on your fingers being the only thing keeping you from spiralling.

What if you were right? What if all the signs were right there, and you were just ignoring them on purpose?

“... Where is he?” you all but demand, and Manon lets go of you, a proud smile on her face. “Specimen room, I believe. The vet meds have their class with Professor Choi there.”

You down your lemonade in one go, the sourness of the drink washing away the last vestiges of your hesitation. “I'll take Sophia and Lara out instead,” Manon smiles, sipping on her iced americano. “I'm sure I can keep them occupied for one evening.”

“Thanks, Manon,” you breathe out, pulling her into a hug that she reciprocates with equal warmth. She pats your back once, and then you're off, shoes skidding against the pavement in search of a familiar mop of messy hair that belonged to a certain vet student.

The sunlight filtering through the leaves along the path creates little pockets of light, dazzling iridescence when your bracelet catches the light. The wind whips through your hair as you run, people moving to make way for you as they see your urgency.

You called him an idiot, but turns out you were one too. You just hope he's there when you reach that place.

Jake's standing by the docks, a can of lemon soda in hand, when you finally get there.

His head snaps up when he hears the screeching of your soles against the polish of the wood, surprise colouring his face. “Hey,” he says, reaching out to steady you as you skid to a stop a few inches before him. “Is something wrong? Did you run all the way here?”

You hunch over, hands on your knees, as you try to catch your breath. You hear the soft clink of metal as he sets the can aside, before his face, furrowed in concern, comes into view, as he crouches down to see you better.

“I...” you heave, holding up a hand, “I need to tell you something.” Jake nods, voice soft as he answers. “Okay. Tell me.” His hand rubs soft circles into the crook of your elbow, grounding you in his warmth. “... I'm listening.”

“I... I know Gus likes you a lot.” He raises an eyebrow at that, an amused yet incredulous laugh slipping out of him. “You ran all the way here, just to tell me that Gus likes me a lot?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, wiping the sweat at your jaw, “and I like you too.”

Jake freezes at that, going stiff as a board. He opens his mouth to speak, then shuts up right after—he does it a few times, trying to find the words to say what he wants to, but lets out a frustrated breath when he realises that it's a futile attempt, and more importantly, a complete waste of time.

So he does what he does best—with the grip he has on your elbow, he tugs you downwards, sending you stumbling into him. “Woah—hey!”

“Don't “Hey” me,” he finally says, face hidden in the crook of your neck, as one arm wraps around your waist, while the other buries itself into your hair as he holds you close in a mess of tangled limbs. “You can't just drop something so important on me like it's just another Wednesday and expect me to be normal about it.”

“Then don't,” you tighten your grip on his shoulders, “don't be normal about it. I'll still like you the same.” He laughs at that, the warm, breathy sound sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. “... That's a dangerous thought to entertain. I barely held myself back from pulling you away from that bastard you kept laughing with earlier.”

You blink at the admission, before bursting into a peal of laughter. Jake pulls away at that, confused at your reaction, as his hand drops down from your hair to rest at your waist. He tilts his head, but there's already a smile on his face just from seeing you laugh.

“... What's so funny, huh? Care to share, or do I have to find out myself?” You shake your head, wiping the tears at the corners of your eyes. “Oh, baby. You don't have to be jealous. Nicholas doesn't stand a chance against you.”

He gives you another raised eyebrow, but the pleased purr in his voice at your answer is unmistakable. “... Really? And why's that, hm?” You cup his face, placing your forehead against his. “Because,” you chuckle, placing a kiss to his forehead, “Nicholas is my cousin. He's family, Jake.”

He sighs at that, head dropping to rest against your clavicles. His ears burn a soft flush from his embarrassment, but the smile on his face is hard to hide against your skin. “... Oh. He's family,” he whispers, and you place another kiss to the top of his head. “No wonder you were laughing like that.”

“Laughing like what?” you question. He looks up again, and you feel your heart nearly stutter to a stop when you see the sheer adoration in his eyes. “You were laughing the way you do when you talk about Gus. When you tell me about Sophia, Lara, and Manon. You were laughing with him like he was one of the people you love—which makes sense, because now I know that he's your family.”

A watery chuckle slips out before you can tamp it down, and you fling yourself at him—he catches you, but the momentum sends him off-balance, and he ends up lying on the wood underneath you, his fluffy hair sticking out in all directions.

“You, sir,” you grin at him, letting your nose brush against his, “are going to be stuck with me for life just 'cause of that. There's no way I can let go of somebody who can differentiate between my laughter. You're a liability, but you're my liability now.”

“Gladly,” he hums, reaching up to tuck some of your hair behind your ear. “That's the only kind of liability I ever want to be.” He cups your face, thumb rubbing against your jaw in a comforting, steady brhythm. “... Can I kiss you?”

You feel your grin grow wider. “... Thought you'd never ask.” He laughs at that, glasses still askew, before he's leaning up to kiss you. It's sweet, soft and everything just as normal as it can be—because it's Jake who's kissing you.

It's the same boy who's carved himself a space in your life, the same person who earned Gus's trust over and over again, and it's the same Jake who found himself in your list of permanent people the day you met him. It's as familiar as it can get.

When you pull away, he lets you take a breath, before tugging you back in and kissing you again. He moves to pepper kisses along the side of your face, before finally, finally ending with a kiss on the top of your head. “... I like you so, so much. I'm glad I bumped into you at the conservatory that day.” You snicker, holding up your ID. “The tangled lanyards should've been the first sign.”

He reaches out to hold your hand, fingers sliding against yours before he holds them in place with a firm grip. He lifts your twined hands to place a kiss on your knuckles, grinning wildly. “Guess I need to start referring to myself as Layla and Gus's dad now.” You roll your eyes at that, scoffing playfully. “Does that make me Layla's mom now?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, pressing another kiss to your knuckles, “and then, I'll make you Mrs Sim in the future, because there's no way I can let go of you now.” That earns him a playful shove, and he laughs loudly.

“Already planning for the wedding, are we?” Jake shakes his head, pulling you up to stand with him. “Nah, Sunghoon's already got that covered for me. All we have to do is just show up at the wedding.”

“Now,” he snickers, as he sweeps you into his arms again while you shriek at him. “I believe we can squeeze in a date at the cat café downtown if we hurry.” He doesn't wait for your answer, already beginning to walk away, leaving you with no option but to take the opportunity to observe him.

His hair is messed up, there's a wide grin on his face and a pep in his step, his glasses still sit slightly askew—but most importantly, he looks like he's yours.

You curl into him, and he holds you tighter to his chest, letting the thrum of his heartbeat against your ear lull you to a familiar rhythm, as Jake begins to ramble to you about all the different cats at the café.

The scent of sea salt mingles with the breeze, as you close your eyes, letting his voice be the anchor that sinks in the realisation of everything that's been building for the past few months.

Yeah, dealing with a vet can be hard at times. Especially if you've got a pet who absolutely despises them. However, even then, there will always be a person who holds the greatest of passions, and a saintly amount of patience to earn said pet's trust.

There's a lot of stuff that goes on with a vet―exams, tests, diagnostics, and medications―some with even side effects.

But turns out, some of those side effects do include love—and of course, you wouldn't have it any other way.

taglist: @sparkcling @supahintohoon @tinyteezer @goosemantheweeb @simpikeu @kristynaaah

[twocupsofsuga]

· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ manspreading: a memoir ₊‎⚘⁺

ot7!enha x 8th f!member reader

there's only so much manspreading and manhandling you can handle before you finally loose it.

w.c.: 13k+

themes: sfw, cursing, humor, teasing, reader is enhypen's 8th female member, reader getting frustrated with the boys cuz they're being... ya know... boys lmao, reader gets hurt in the end from pain, the enha boys can be in any age range you want but just imagine you're around the same age as the jaykehoon trio

note: check out my other works! (masterlist) absolutely NO plagiarizing my work.

it's a friday night, which in theory means relief. the end of schedules, the end of alarms, the beginning of the sacred two-day illusion where you all pretend you're normal people with normal lives. heeseung had suggested a movie, and somehow that turned into all eight of you piling into the living room with popcorn, blankets, and the collective decision that tonight's choice would be legally blonde.

which should've been perfect.

it would've been perfect, actually, if you weren't currently being crushed to death.

you're sitting in the middle of the couch, because you made the fatal mistake of discovering weeks ago that the middle cushion is objectively the most comfortable. it's the one that doesn't sag, the one with the best view of the tv, the one where you can lean back without your neck doing that weird angle thing. you had claimed it innocently at first, not knowing it would become the most contested piece of real estate in the entire dorm.

now, on either side of you, are sunghoon and ni-ki.

sunghoon is long and heavy. that's the first problem. all limbs and broad shoulders and that effortless way of taking up space without even trying. ni-ki is worse, because he's not only tall, but restless, constantly shifting and stretching, slouching deeper into the couch like he's trying to merge with it on a molecular level. and somehow, despite there being a perfectly good amount of space on either side of them, both of them have decided that the optimal seating position is… directly on top of you.

not metaphorically, but literally physically.

their thighs press into yours, their shoulders lean in, their weight sinks into the cushions until you feel yourself being slowly absorbed by the sofa, compressed between two warm, heavy bodies like you're the filling in some extremely unfair human sandwich.

you glance around.

jay and jake are on the floor, backs against the couch, legs stretched out comfortably. jungwon has claimed an entire beanbag by himself, curled up like a cat. sunoo is cross-legged on a cushion, blanket neatly over his lap, and heeseung is lounging in an armchair with one leg hooked over the side like he owns the place.

everyone has space.

everyone looks relaxed.

everyone is laughing.

and you are fighting for oxygen.

you shift slightly, trying to reclaim at least one inch of personal space, but ni-ki just slouches more, his shoulder dipping further into yours. sunghoon, completely unbothered, leans back too, his arm brushing yours as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

you stare at the screen, where elle woods is doing something iconic and pink, and you realize you are the only person in the room not laughing.

mostly because you can't breathe properly.

you huff, not even trying to hide it. "can you both move. like. a lot?"

ni-ki doesn't even look at you. he snorts, eyes still on the movie, lips curling into that annoying grin. "huh? did you hear something?"

sunghoon hums in agreement, distracted with his gaze fixed on the screen. "yeah, i thought i heard something too."

ni-ki tilts his head slightly, fake-listening. "sunghoon-hyung… since when could this sofa talk?"

you turn your head slowly to look at him. "i'm not the sofa."

sunghoon finally glances down, blinking like he's just now registering your existence. "oh." he reaches over without moving his body at all, grabs a handful of popcorn from the bowl sitting on your lap, and casually pops it into his mouth. "was that you y/n? damn, i thought it was a mosquito."

you look down at the popcorn. then at sunghoon, then at ni-ki, who is now actively leaning more of his weight onto you, clearly entertained. you sink deeper into the couch, trapped between them with your arms pinned and legs squished. your role in this group suddenly very clear.

you are not a person.

you are a piece of furniture.

you start grumbling under your breath, shifting again, this time actually trying to shove at sunghoon's side with what little leverage you have. your elbow presses uselessly into his ribs, but all it earns you is an amused exhale through his nose, like your just as funny as the movie that their watching.

ni-ki clicks his tongue, finally looking down at you. "wow, you're so noisy noona. sofas these days are really high maintenance, huh."

you snap your head toward him, eyes narrowing, already lifting one leg with the very real intention of kicking him straight in the shin. you're halfway there when suddenly sunghoon's arm comes down around your shoulders, hooking you in easily like you weigh nothing and pulling you flush into his side.

it's unfair, actually. how easy it is for him. how your entire attempt at rebellion is instantly neutralized by one arm.

"be a dear and feed me some popcorn." he says, not even looking at you, his attention still on the screen.

you stare at him for a second, deadpan, before grabbing a single piece and launching it straight at his face.

it bounces off his cheek and falls into his lap.

sunghoon blinks. then he tuts, acting disappointed all while fighting a smile. "what happened, y/n-ya. you used to be so sweet to me."

you groan, tipping your head back against the couch like you're appealing to the universe itself. "i used to have personal space too."

ni-ki laughs, loud and obnoxious, clearly enjoying this way too much. you're about to argue back when you realize there is, in fact, one last card you can play.

"heeseung oppa!" you call out, raising your voice just enough. "tell these two to let me watch the movie in peace."

you look over at him with so much hope. he's the eldest. he's responsible. surely he'll be on your side.

heeseung doesn’t look away from the screen. "huh? what—yeah stop annoying her, you two—" he pauses, squinting at the tv. "oh my god, that guy is such a dick to elle."

everyone else laughs.

heeseung leans forward in his chair, fully invested now. "no because why would he say that to her. that’s actually insane."

you just stare at him. disbelief settling deep into your bones.

"oh my god." you mutter.

sunghoon's arm tightens slightly around you like he's getting more comfortable, and ni-ki's knee nudges into your thigh again. the popcorn bowl is still on your lap and your legs are still trapped. your backup plan has officially failed.

you sink back into the cushions defeated, surrounded by laughter and you think, not for the first time tonight, that being the only girl in a house full of boys means you are constantly outnumbered, outmatched, and—apparently—completely ignored.

the movie continues.

you're all out for dinner after what feels like the longest practice session known to mankind. the kind where your body is sore in places you didn't even know existed, where your brain feels like static, and the only thing keeping you upright is the promise of food. real food. warm food. possibly sweet food. the restaurant is small but cozy, tucked into a quiet street, and the moment you step inside, the smell hits you—fried, buttery, sweet, savory, everything all at once. it's enough to make all eight of your stomachs grumble in perfect, tragic unison. everyone practically collapses into a big table in the corner, far enough from the other customers that you can finally take off your hats and masks without worrying. jackets are draped over chairs, beanies tossed onto the table, shoulders relaxing for the first time all day. you slide into the seat between jake and jungwon, already feeling your mood improve just from the thought of eating something that isn't a protein bar or a convenience store sandwich.

the restaurant aunty waddles over with a notepad and the warmest smile you've ever seen, eyes lighting up the moment she see you all. "aiyo, so handsome! and pretty!" she gushes, looking around the table. "all of you, really good-looking."

everyone laughs politely and bow a little in thanks. you smile back at her, and while the others start listing off their orders—this, that, extra rice, no vegetables—you skim the menu again, your eyes immediately landing on the dessert section.

"um," you say softly, leaning forward a little. "do you still have the cheesecake aunty?"

the aunty hums, tapping her pen against the notepad. "ohh, the cheesecake ah? that one is very famous here you know. sells out almost every day." she looks genuinely thoughtful for a moment, then her face brightens. "but today… i think there is one piece left."

your eyes widen. "really?"

she nods, lowering her voice like she's about to tell you a secret. "since you all are idols, and you came to my restaurant, i am very honoured. i will save the last piece for you, okay?"

you visibly light up. "thank you so much!" you say immediately, probably a little too enthusiastically. "thank you thank you thank you, seriously, i really appreciate it."

you even do a tiny bow in your seat, hands pressed together dramatically and the aunty laughs, waving you off like you're adorable instead of exhausted and desperate for sugar.

"okay, okay." she says, scribbling it down. "last piece of cheesecake, just for you."

you watch her walk away, feeling like you've just won the lottery.

you turn back to the table, already smiling to yourself, mentally planning how slow you're going to eat it and how you're going to savour every bite. this is going to be your little reward for surviving the day.

sunoo hums at you. "cheesecake?"

you nod, visibly happy. "and the last slice too at that one."

jungwon looks impressed. "noice."

jake who's still next to you, suddenly tilts his body to face you and leans forward. he rests his elbows on the table, fingers steepled together in front of his face like he's about to negotiate a billion dollar business deal, eyes fixed on you with that stupidly serious expression he only ever uses when he's about to be annoying on purpose. he opens his mouth.

"you mean our cheesecake."

you look at him and your expression goes unimpressed. "don't you dare sim jaeyun."

he only shrugs, shoulders lifting lazily, but doesn't move from his position. his fingers stay pressed together. his posture stays firm, like this conversation is far from over.

"trade offer." he says smoothly. "three bites of your cheesecake, and i'll give you my side dishes."

you scoff, rolling your eyes. "you don't even like sweet things."

"true." he admits easily, not even pretending otherwise. "but even i won't deny how appetizing it looks on the menu."

you glance down at the picture printed there again, the glossy slice of cheesecake mocked up perfectly under warm lighting, and you sigh.

you sigh, already losing the will to fight. "you can have just one bite. one. because it looks small."

jake's eyes light up. "new trade offer." he says instantly. "one bite for jay's whole dinner."

you turn to look at jay who's sitting in front of you and halfway through scrolling on his phone, minding his own business.

"leave me alone bro." he says without even looking up.

"yeah, that's not happening." you snort waving a hand in jake's face.

jake doesn't miss a beat. "okay, okay," he says, fingers still steepled. "final offer."

you brace yourself.

"your whole cheesecake." he continues solemnly, "for a sip of my water."

there's a choked laugh from jungwon next to you and you narrow your eyes at the offensive offer.

"take a good look at my face and tell me what you think the answer to that is going to be jake."

jake studies you like he's genuinely considering it, gaze flicking over your expression.

he grins. "your face is telling me that i'm the most handsomest guy on earth and that it would be your pleasure to give me your cheesecake."

you let out a sound that's somewhere between a groan and a cry for help, tipping your head back against the booth. "you're actually unbearable."

conversation flows easily after that, just tired jokes and half-finished sentences and everyone talking over each other because no one actually has the energy to wait their turn anymore.

you're mid-laugh about something heeseung said when the restaurant aunty returns, waddling over with a tray balanced expertly on one arm, steam rising from the dishes like a promise.

"your food is here." she announces brightly.

one by one, she places the bowls down in front of everyone, warm and fragrant, the kind of food that feels heavy in a comforting way. rice, noodles, soup, side dishes filling the table until there's barely any space left.

and then she reaches you. she sets your bowl down first, then, very carefully, places a small plate beside it.

your cheesecake.

it looks exactly like the picture. maybe even better. creamy, pale, with a thin golden crust and a little drizzle on top that catches the light.

"there we go," she says fondly. "the last cheesecake. of the day."

you look up at her, eyes probably sparkling like a cartoon character.

she gives you a little wink. "enjoy, okay?"

"thank you so much." you say again, automatically, like you're afraid it might disappear if you don't express enough gratitude.

she laughs, patting the table once before waddling off to attend to other customers, leaving you staring at the plate like it's a sacred object.

jungwon clears his throat and lifts his glass. "okay everyone. we worked really hard today, so let's eat well. we still have practice tomorrow, so we need energy."

everyone groans but still follow his lead, lifting their glasses.

"cheers."

"to food."

"to surviving."

"to y/n's cheesecake."

you give jake a side eye.

glasses clink together in the middle of the table, a soft chorus of tired cheers, and then finally everyone digs in.

chopsticks move and spoons clink. conversations resume between mouthfuls of food. jay immediately comments on how good his dish is, sunoo starts talking about how hungry he was, ni-ki is already on his second bite before anyone else has even properly started.

you take your first bite of your meal, warmth spreading through you instantly, and for a brief beautiful moment, everything is perfect.

you glance down at your cheesecake again.

untouched and safe.

you relax a little in your seat, shoulders dropping as you focus on eating, telling yourself you'll save it for later as a reward. something to look forward to once you're done with the main course.

you take another bite of your food.

out of the corner of your eye, you see movement.

you look up to see jake's fork is hovering suspiciously close to your plate.

you clink your spoon down into your bowl. "jake, please."

he freezes for half a second, then immediately raises both his hands in surrender, palms facing you like he's being arrested.

"ok, ok, fine." he says, laughing lightly. "i won't."

you hold his gaze for a moment longer, still suspicious, then finally sigh and look back down at your bowl.

you take another bite, then another, letting yourself relax again, tuning back into the noise of the table around you. everyone's talking over each other, cutlery clinking, chairs shifting slightly in the cramped booth. it's warm and crowded, loud in a familiar way.

a few minutes pass and you're mid-chew when you feel something brush against your leg under the table.

you barely react. all eight of you are squeezed into the same booth, knees bumping, feet tangling, legs constantly nudging and shifting every time someone moves. it's been happening since the moment you all sat down, so you don't think much of it and you keep eating.

then it happens again.

this time the kick is a little firmer, more deliberate, pressing lightly against your shin instead of just accidentally bumping it.

you pause, spoon hovering near your mouth.

your brows knit together slightly as you lift your head.

sunoo is sitting directly in front of you, chopsticks in his hand, halfway through picking up another bite of his food. his lips are pressed together, like he's trying very hard not to smile.

he notices you looking and immediately glances to the side, then back at you, then to the side again, making obvious shifty eyes before subtly tilting his head towards your left.

towards jake.

confused, you follow his gaze and turn your head.

and you gasp.

like, actually gasp out loud.

jake has your cheesecake stabbed clean through with his fork lifted off the plate, and he's in the middle of lowering it straight into his mouth, which is already wide open like he's about to take the biggest bite of his life.

you cry out his name in pure shock, the sound loud and instinctive and immediately lunge forward, reaching out to grab the hand that's holding your cheesecake.

"jake—!"

your fingers barely graze him before he reacts, quick and infuriatingly smooth, switching the fork to his other hand—the one farther away from you—lifting it just out of reach. the cheesecake wobbles dangerously on the fork, and that only makes you panic more.

"give it back!" you gasp, already grabbing onto his arm, fingers curling into his sleeve as you try to pull him closer to you.

you grab onto his arm instead, your hand clutching at his sleeve as you try to drag him closer to you, stretching forward in your seat so you can reach for the other hand now.

jake bursts out laughing. like full-on laughing, shoulders shaking, clearly finding this way too entertaining.

"no way, no way," he says between laughs. "you're actually fighting me for it."

you lean over even more, half out of your seat now, trying desperately to reach around him. "your going to drop it!"

he shifts, and suddenly his free arm comes around your waist, firm and unyielding, holding you in place against his side. you freeze for half a second, completely caught off guard, and in that moment he stretches the other arm out, lifting the fork higher, further away from you, the cheesecake still skewered on the end.

"jAKE—" you whine, voice going higher with frustration. "you're so annoying—"

he's still laughing, not even struggling, not even using much effort, just casually keeping you trapped with one arm while holding your dessert out of reach with the other like it's nothing.

you try to twist out of his hold, pushing at his chest, squirming against his side, but it's useless. he doesn't even budge.

everyone else at the table is watching now, some of them laughing, some of them just staring like it's the most entertaining thing they've seen all night.

"you're literally stealing from me." you protest, trying again to grab his arm.

"i'm negotiating." he corrects, still smiling.

you let out another frustrated sound, half yell, half whine, your hands gripping his sleeve like that might somehow help. "you're manhandling me for cheesecake, this is insane."

he just tightens his hold slightly, effortless, still stretching the fork away from you.

"and you're losing." he says with a smirk.

jake hooks his leg over yours underneath the table, effectively pinning you in place. you squirm uselessly, your hands still clutching at his sleeve, but the combined force of his arm around your waist and his leg keeping yours trapped means you can’t move an inch.

jungwon, sitting nearby, glances at the cheesecake with a cautious expression. "uhhh… hyung, maybe you shouldn't wave it around like that—"

jake barely registers his warning before it happens.

in one horrifying instant, the cheesecake, suspended precariously on the fork, gives way. the delicate slice splits in half, wobbling for a heartbeat in the air, and then both pieces fall flat onto the table with a sickening little plop.

you freeze, mouth open, eyes glued to the ruined dessert.

jake blinks, momentarily silent, fork still in hand, staring at the fallen halves as if he can't believe it either.

you just stare at the cheesecake, or what's left of it.

your shoulders slump visibly, all the energy draining out of you at once, and you go quiet. just… small. defeated. your lips press into a thin line, a frown settling on your face as you reach for the tissue box on the table.

you don't say anything. you just pull out a few tissues and start carefully dabbing at the mess, wiping up the cream that's smeared across the table, gathering the broken pieces like you're cleaning up something fragile instead of just dessert.

around you, the table has gone strangely silent. everyone's watching, their eyes flick between you, the ruined cheesecake, and jake, who has completely stopped laughing now. his posture is different, shoulders a little stiff, mouth slightly open like he wants to say something but doesn't know how.

he swallows.

"uhm…" he starts, voice awkward. "i'm sorry?"

you don't respond. you keep your eyes on the table, on the tissues in your hands, focusing on cleaning instead of looking at him. the frown on your face doesn't go away.

sunghoon snorts quietly from beside you. "wow," he says amused. "you really did it now."

jake immediately shoots him a glare. "shut up."

jake exhales, running a hand through his hair, and then gently takes the tissues from your hands without saying anything. his movements are slower now, careful as he starts cleaning the table himself, wiping up the remaining mess in your stead.

you don't look at him. you just slump back into your chair, arms crossing loosely over your stomach, still visibly upset.

after a moment, jake glances at you, sending you a small guilty smile. "sorry," he says again, quieter this time. "i didn't mean to be so rough. with you… or the cake."

you don't reply.

he clears his throat. "i'll get you anything you want from the convenience store on the way home. i promise."

you finally sigh, the tension easing just a little, and shove his shoulder weakly with your own. not hard, just enough to show you're still annoyed.

he chuckles softly at that, relieved, and reaches over to ruffle your hair.

you let it go that night.

but deep down, you still wish you had gotten to eat that cheesecake.

you're all sitting in enhypen's waiting room, getting your last mic checks done before heading to the studio for the latest en o'clock episode.

the room is buzzing with life, the kind of controlled chaos that always happens right before filming. the director's voice carries across the room, calling out last-minute reminders about timing and segments, while staff move in and out, fixing hair, adjusting outfits and clipping on mics, making sure everyone looks presentable under studio lights.

you're sitting on one end of the sofa, sipping your favourite drink, the cold sweetness helping settle your nerves as you quietly pump yourself up in your head. you watch the others from where you are, half-listening to the noise around you, trying to stay in that calm, focused state before cameras turn on.

and then jay and heeseung drop down on either side of you.

they're both laughing about something, clearly mid-conversation and completely absorbed in whatever joke just happened. the sofa dips slightly under their weight, the space around you shrinking instantly.

on instinct, you draw your knees a little closer together, shifting subtly to make room for them.

big mistake.

over the next few minutes, without even realising it, both of them start to spread out. jay leans back, one leg sliding outward, his knee slowly drifting into your space. heeseung mirrors him on the other side, stretching his legs forward with his thigh pressing lightly against yours.

you stay still at first, thinking they'll notice.

they don't.

they keep talking and laughing, nodding along to each other, completely unaware of how much space they're slowly taking up. their shoulders relax, their posture gets looser, and you find yourself getting pushed further and further into the middle, your own space disappearing inch by inch.

your knees are now pressed tightly together, your legs trapped between theirs, your shoulders tucked in awkwardly while they sit comfortably, sprawled out like they own the entire sofa.

you glance down at your lap, then to the side, then back at the front, realising with a quiet, sinking feeling that once again, you've somehow become the smallest person in the biggest space, and neither of them has noticed at all.

you let out a loud, exaggerated sigh, the kind that's meant to be heard.

neither of them reacts.

you glance to your left then to your right. their knees are still creeping further apart, their thighs pressing closer into your space, and you're now practically folded into yourself in the middle.

"…excuse me?"

this time, they finally notice.

jay looks down first, then heeseung, both of them registering the way your knees are pressed together and how their legs have completely boxed you in. there's a split second of silence before they both grin.

instead of moving back, they do the exact opposite.

jay spreads his legs even wider. heeseung mirrors him immediately, leaning back like he's settling into a beach chair.

you stare at them in disbelief. "are you serious right now?"

they burst out laughing.

"stoppp." you say, louder now. "you're literally squashing me!"

still laughing, they finally close their legs again, shifting back into their seats. you huff dramatically, rolling your shoulders and leaning forward in your spot and bringing your drink up to your lips.

you take a sip, eyes narrowing. "children."

behind you, jay and heeseung have already laid back against the sofa, their conversation resuming like nothing happened, voices overlapping as they talk about the shoot.

and then you feel it again. a light knock against your thighs.

you freeze. slowly, you look down.

it's their knees. again.

somehow without realizing it, both of them have started spreading out once more, their legs drifting open until they're once again invading your space.

you whip your head around. "what the— what is wrong with you guys? you're doing it again!"

jay and heeseung pause mid-conversation and look at you.

there's a beat before they both start laughing.

heeseung, clearly enjoying this way too much, lifts the leg closest to you and casually throws it over yours.

you yelp as it lands, the sudden weight making you jerk forward, your drink sloshing dangerously close to spilling.

"oppa!"

you shoot him an incredulous look, eyes wide with one hand instinctively tightening around your cup. he just grins at you, completely unbothered, his leg still draped over yours like it belongs there.

jay decides to copy heeseung.

you feel it before you even see it, his leg lifting and then landing over your other leg, effectively trapping you completely. your head snaps to the other side, eyes wide as you stare at him.

"…really?"

jay just shrugs, lips twitching like he's proud of himself.

now you're fully stuck, both of their legs draped over yours with their combined weight pinning you in place while they sit there like this is the most natural thing in the world. you try to wiggle your knees, but there's literally nowhere to go.

from the corner of your eye, you notice movement.

a cameraman is approaching, camera already lifted, lens pointed straight at the three of you.

oh no.

you instantly recognise the look. this is definitely one of those behind-the-scenes shots, the kind that always end up in a separate clip with some stupidly cute title.

you slowly turn your head toward the camera, completely deadpan, then let your shoulders slump in defeat. you give it an exaggerated, tired look. "engenes… do you see what i have to deal with all the time?"

you pout slightly for effect, eyes flicking down at the situation and then back up at the lens.

the cameraman clearly finds this hilarious, because he starts moving around you in a dramatic little circle, zooming in and out like he's filming a documentary. first a close-up of your resigned face, then he tilts the camera down to your legs, zooming in on how both jay and heeseung have theirs thrown over yours like human seatbelts.

jay notices and laughs. "wow, this is gonna make the cut for sure."

heeseung leans closer to you, still not moving his leg. "you're welcome. free content."

you turn back to the camera, fully committing now, hands gesturing wildly as you start complaining.

"i'm serious, they don't even realise it." you say pointing down at their legs. "your favourite oppars love manspreading like it's their full-time job. nobody's business. zero shame—"

before you can finish, you suddenly feel hands on your shoulders.

"yah, come here." heeseung says, already pulling you back.

"don't lie to engenes." jay adds at the same time.

you barely have time to react. in a panic, you quickly lean forward and carefully place your drink on the small table in front of you before they drag you backwards, smushing you between them on the sofa.

you let out a long, dramatic groan. "oh my god—this is exactly what i mean!"

you're now fully squashed, your back pressed into heeseung's chest, jay leaning in from the other side, their legs still thrown over yours like nothing has changed.

both of them immediately turn to the camera, suddenly putting on the most ridiculous innocent voices.

"we do not do that." heeseung says, shaking his head like he's deeply offended.

"yeah, this is all acting." jay adds, nodding seriously. "she's exaggerating for content."

the cameraman zooms out, wide shot now, clearly capturing the full scene of you completely sandwiched between two tall men, legs overlapped and arms around you, zero personal space left.

the visual evidence is undeniable.

jay and heeseung see it on the small monitor and immediately start scrambling to save themselves.

heeseung laughs awkwardly. "okay but when you put it like this, it looks worse than it is—"

jay quickly adds, "it's the camera angle. bad angle."

you just stare at the lens with the most tired, betrayed expression.

the cameraman shakes slightly, clearly laughing behind the camera, while jay and heeseung continue talking over each other, desperately trying to explain themselves as you remain squished in the middle, completely proving your point.

you let out another sigh, one that's way too tired for someone who's supposed to be about to film a fun show and you look straight into the camera again.

"engenes, this is not the first time." you say seriously. "i swear i've seen a compilation on youtube before. like—" you squint a little, pretending to read an imaginary title in the air. "10 minutes of y/n from enhypen being the victim of manspreading."

jay's head snaps toward you instantly. "ain't no way that exists."

heeseung laughs in disbelief. "yeah, you're lying. nobody made that."

you slowly turn your head back to the camera, still stuck between them, and give it the most knowing look you possibly can. the kind that says 'we both know there is'.

the cameraman zooms in slightly on your face.

"it exists." you say in a flat tone.

jay scoffs. "no it doesn't."

"show me." heeseung adds, clearly still in denial.

you don't even argue or make a move. you just keep staring into the lens, deadpan, lips pressed together in a line.

the silence stretches for a second.

then jay mutters, "…why do i feel like it actually does."

pretty soon it's time to film, and all eight of you shuffle out into the studio, automatically forming a messy line in front of the dozens of cameras pointed your way. the backdrop is the usual clean white, but it's been dressed up with colourful banners and random furniture props, a bright carpet placed on the floor right behind you like it's waiting to become a battlefield.

today's concept is clearly another team game.

the moment the director explains it, the boys start hyping each other up like it's the olympics, and before you can even process what's happening, hands are suddenly slapping down on your shoulders from behind.

"let's gooo!"

you stumble forward a little as they shake you back and forth, completely unprepared for the force. "yah—!" you groan, trying to keep your balance. "why are you all so violent?"

you turn toward the director with a dramatic wince, rubbing your shoulders. "director-nim, please… we all know i get bruises. these boys do not play when it comes to games and prizes."

immediately, the air fills with noise.

"that's not true!"

"you're exaggerating again!"

"we're very gentle!"

sunghoon for some reason starts flexing his arms, rolling his shoulders like he's about to enter a bodybuilding competition.

ni-ki runs over in front of you, fists raised like a cartoon boxer. "come on noona, you know the drill!"

you just stare at him, then turn your head to look straight into the nearest camera, completely dead inside. your expression says it all.

behind the scenes, the director and staff burst out laughing, some of them already shaking their heads, while the cameras keep rolling, capturing the you in the middle, surrounded by seven overly competitive boys who look way too excited for what's supposed to be a "fun little game."

a good few rounds later, you honestly don't even remember what the original rules were anymore.

there were teams at the start. you're pretty sure of that. there was some kind of point system, maybe a timer, definitely props involved at some stage — but all of that has long been thrown out the window. somewhere along the way, the boys got too competitive, the teams dissolved, and now it's just pure disarray.

everyone is technically still cheering for their 'teammates', but at the same time, they're all fending for themselves, switching sides whenever it suits them while yelling contradictory advice across the studio.

the colourful carpet in the middle of the set has become the main battlefield. you're standing on it now, feet planted shakily, knees bent as you hunch closer to the ground like you're preparing for impact. your hands are raised in front of you instinctively, palms open, half defensive and half ready to block whatever's coming next.

sunoo is directly in front of you, mirroring your stance. both of you look equally uncertain.

at some point — you're not even sure when — the rules had apparently changed into this: whoever could get the other person on the ground the fastest.

you distinctly remember protesting. you remember sunoo protesting too. both of you had tried to speak up, voices overlapping as you told them that this was absolutely not what you signed up for. but your voices had been completely drowned out by six other boys shouting over each other, already hyped, already arguing about techniques like they were in a wrestling match.

the director had tried at first. there were warnings, there were half-hearted attempts to bring back the original rules, a few "guys, guys—" thrown into the air. but eventually, even she had given up.

with a resigned laugh, she'd waved her hand and told them, "if that's what you want to do, then… sure. just don't get injured."

and now here you are.

standing on soft, colourful carpet, surrounded by yelling, laughing, overly excited boys, watching you face off against sunoo like it's some kind of survival game you never agreed to be part of.

sunoo gives you a nervous little smile. "we can… go easy, right?"

you nod immediately. "yeah, easy. very easy."

jungwon's voice cuts through the noise, loud and clear as he starts counting down, everyone immediately joining in like it's some kind of sports event.

"three… two… one—"

"go!"

you and sunoo both freeze for half a second, just staring at each other.

then it starts.

if you could even call it that.

you both move at the same time, but it's awkward and hesitant, like two people who absolutely do not want to hurt each other. your hands reach out and land on his sleeves, his hands grip lightly at your wrists, and the two of you just… shuffle in place. there's no real force, no real strategy. just a lot of nervous laughter and uncoordinated limbs.

you try to push him a little, but your feet slide instead. sunoo tries to pull you, but immediately stops himself like he's afraid he’s being too rough.

to everyone watching, it's painfully obvious.

this is not a fight.

this is two people politely pretending to wrestle.

the boys around you start laughing almost instantly.

"what is this?"

"are they slow dancing?"

"this is actually so sad."

you and sunoo are still grabbing at each other, but it's clearly more comedic than competitive, both of you smiling, half-apologising every time you accidentally tug too hard.

and then—

"okay that's enough." sunghoon says.

before either of you can react, he just reaches out and pushes sunoo to the side with one hand. not aggressively, just casually, like he's moving a pillow out of the way.

sunoo stumbles a step. "hey!"

and suddenly, it's just you standing directly in front of sunghoon.

you look up at him slowly, warily, as he cracks his knuckles one by one, the sound way too loud in your ears.

you groan. "absolutely not."

without thinking twice, you turn on your heel and bolt, running straight to jake and hiding behind him like he's your personal human shield.

"there is no way in hell i'm going against him!" you yell, gripping onto jake's hoodie for dear life.

sunghoon, meanwhile, strikes his classic ridiculous bodybuilder pose, flexing dramatically for the cameras. he points one hand straight at you, chin lifted like he's in some kind of action movie.

"get your butt over here y/n."

you peek out from behind jake. "i'm obviously gonna lose!"

"i mean yeah that's true. but come here so i can prove it to the cameras first-hand."

you open your mouth to protest again, but you feel jake shift underneath you. you look up just in time to see him turning around, shooting you the biggest grin.

"sorry." he says, not sorry at all.

before you can react, he grabs you around the waist and lifts you clean off your feet. you yelp, instinctively kicking your legs in the air.

"jake! jAKE—put me down!"

he just laughs, waddling forward with you like you weigh nothing, carrying you straight toward sunghoon while you cling onto his shoulders, legs flailing uselessly.

the studio erupts into laughter, the cameras zooming in as you're literally being delivered to your doom.

jake plops you down gently on your feet right in front of sunghoon, and the second your toes touch the mat, your arms shoot up instinctively, palms out in defense. your stomach flips; you know exactly what's coming.

sunghoon turns slowly toward you, a glint in his eyes that screams mischief and determination all at once. there's hint of playfulness here, and instinctively you freeze for a second, trying to read him.

before you can even gather your thoughts or argue, jay's voice cuts through, loud and theatrical: "three… two… one—GO!"

sunghoon doesn't wait another second and lunges.

you yelp as his body collides with yours, knocking the wind out of you slightly, and you both tumble backward onto the soft, colorful mat the directors had wisely placed. your butt hits first with a loud uff, and then your arms and legs go into automatic defensive mode, scrambling for purchase.

the boys around you erupt with cheers, clapping and shouting, voices blending into a chaotic motivational chorus: "come on y/n! don't let him win!" "beat him!" "you got this!"

you immediately spring into action, shoving off the mat, twisting, pushing, trying to resist, trying to stay upright, anything to prevent him from getting the upper hand.

but sunghoon—oh god, sunghoon—is like a force of nature. he grabs your wrists, pulling your arms outward, trying to manipulate your body so he can gently but firmly roll you onto your back. every time you twist, every time you shift your weight, he adjusts instantly, his grip like iron but somehow smooth, almost effortless.

"hah—no!" you grunt, squirming, wriggling your legs like a frantic little crab. you're digging your heels into the mat, trying to create friction, trying to push him off, but his body weight presses down against yours, unrelenting.

he shifts his knee to pin one side of your torso, the other hand guiding your shoulder, inching you toward the mat. his strength is ridiculous—you can feel every muscle working under his skin as he maneuvers you, and try as you might, you're constantly being redirected, manhandled with terrifying precision.

"uh uh, not so fast." he mutters with a grin, clearly enjoying this far too much.

you're twisting and turning, trying to throw him off balance. your fingers clawing at his forearms. "i'm not—oh god—i'm not going down!" you yell, though your voice cracks under the effort.

sunghoon doesn't hold back. he's strong, precise, and mercilessly efficient as he maneuvers you across the mat. you twist, kick, and push with everything you've got, but his hands and body weight are unyielding. with one last push and a subtle shift of his hip, he finally gets you onto your back.

you land with a soft thud on the padded mat, and the sudden jolt makes you wince involuntarily. your back aches sharply, even through the padding, but sunghoon is already leaping to his feet, pumping the air and yelling with triumph. he's too busy celebrating to notice your discomfort.

jungwon, heeseung, and sunoo plop down beside you, trying to make it lighthearted. "hey, that was a good try!" heeseung says, patting your shoulders. sunoo laughs. "you fought well!"

but their hands pause mid-pat as they notice the way you're grimacing, your eyebrows furrowed and your back slightly tensing as you try to adjust. they exchange quick, concerned glances.

across the mat, sunghoon and the other boys are still cheering, laughing, and high-fiving each other over their 'victory.' sunghoon suddenly bounds over to you, chest puffed with pride, ready to brag about his win.

he stops abruptly, his eyes catching your slight wince as you shift on the mat. his smile fades instantly. "oh—y/n, wait." he says, crouching down beside you. "are you okay?"

his hands are gentle as he helps you sit up, one hand supporting your back and the other your arm. your back strains a little against his grip, making your eyebrows draw together involuntarily. you let out a small, tight sigh but wave your hand dismissively. "i'm fine, really." you tell him, forcing your voice casual.

he nods, still watching you carefully, then stands with you, letting the moment pass. the rest of the shoot continues as normal, cameras rolling, boys laughing and competing in other games.

you move through the rest of the activities with your usual energy, but you have to be careful not to let the pain in your back show on camera. your posture is slightly more guarded, your movements more careful, and your smiles just a touch less bright than usual.

though everything seems fine on screen, the soreness lingers, and your mood that day is dampened ever so slightly.

you're crouched down on one knee by the door, fingers fumbling with your shoelaces, focused on getting the knot just right. the morning sunlight filters through the dorm window, lighting up the room in warm hues. you're all about to head out for the night, when you hear a voice beside you.

"uh… y/n?"

you glance up, squinting slightly in surprise, and see heeseung standing next to you. there's a hint of confusion in his voice.

"that's… not how you tie your laces." he says, tilting his head, eyes focused on your shoes. "you should tie it like the way i do it, it's more efficient."

you blink at him from the ground, hands still holding the ends of your laces. "this is how i always do it." you reply softly, genuinely confused. it's worked for you every single time and it gets the job done just fine.

heeseung crouches a little, his expression earnest. "no, see, the right way—"

you wave him off gently. "it's alright, i've got it."

but before you can finish, you feel a sudden tug at your arm. you gasp instinctively as he pulls you up to your feet, steadying you with his hand. before you can react, he crouches down quickly, fingers deftly undoing your laces and starting to re-tie them in his 'correct' way.

"this," he says with a small nod, "is how you do it."

you glance down, seeing the top of his head as he leans close to your shoes all focused. your arm tingles from where he held it, and you instinctively rub it, a frown forming on your lips.

you decide not to say anything. he means well, you tell yourself. it's just one of those moments with heeseung — overly helpful, a little overbearing, but full of earnest intention. so you stay quiet, watching him work.

it's chilly the moment you all step outside.

the kind of cold that isn't biting, but enough that the air feels sharper in your lungs, enough that you can see faint clouds of breath when the boys talk. the night market is lit up with warm yellow lights, food stalls lining both sides of the street, the smell of fried snacks and sugar and spice mixing together in the air.

you're walking with the boys in a loose cluster, moving from stall to stall, stopping whenever something catches someone's eye. thankfully, it's less crowded than usual, so there aren't too many people around to recognize you all. just enough space to breathe and wander a little freely without being swarmed.

you stop at a stall selling those long spiral potatoes on sticks, all of you gathering around the front while the boys start talking over each other, asking the stall uncle about prices, flavours, whether they're freshly made.

you hang back slightly, standing behind them with your hands tucked into your jacket pockets, just looking around at the lights and people passing by.

your jacket isn't zipped. not because you forgot, you just genuinely don't feel cold.

you're perfectly fine like this.

then you hear, "y/n."

you turn your head over your shoulder and see jay looking at you from the stall. he's not even looking at the food anymore, just staring at your jacket, eyebrows a little furrowed.

he points at his own chest, then makes a zipping motion with his hand.

zip up.

you blink at him, then shake your head. "i'm not cold."

jay frowns immediately, like he doesn't believe you for a second. "the wind's picking up." he says, nodding toward the street. "zip it up."

you let out a small huff. "it's warm enough. i'm fine."

to prove your point, you pull one hand out of your pocket and hold up the little hot pack you've been carrying around. "see? i even have this. i'm good."

ay clicks his tongue softly, clearly unsatisfied, and before you realize what's happening, he tells the others, "wait." and steps away from the stall and goes straight toward you.

"jay—"

he stops right in front of you, eyes going straight to your jacket zipper. "you're gonna catch a cold."

"i'm literally not cold." you insist, backing up half a step. "you're being dramatic."

he doesn't listen.

instead, he reaches out, grabs your wrists gently but firmly, and pulls them out of your pockets.

you yelp, startled. "what are you doing?"

"stand still." he says, way too calm for someone who is actively invading your personal space.

you try to pull your hands back, but he's already using his body to block you, stepping closer, effectively trapping you between him and the cold night air.

"jay i can zip it myself." you protest, squirming a little.

"clearly you won't." he replies.

he uses one hand to hold your wrists together and with the other, he grabs the zipper of your jacket. you try to twist away, but he just steps closer again, one hand briefly pressing against your waist to keep you still while he zips the jacket up in one smooth motion, all the way to your chin.

"there." he says, satisfied.

you stare at him with eyes wide. "you literally just manhandled me."

he looks down at you, then at your now fully zipped jacket and shrugs. "now you won't get cold."

you tug at the collar, grumbling. "i was fine before."

jay ignores that, already turning back toward the stall. "you say that now."

you stand there for a second, jacket zipped to your neck, hands still mid-air where he left them, blinking in disbelief.

a grown woman. just forcibly zipped up like a toddler.

you grumble as you stomp up to the stall mildly offended, and when you reach jay you punch him lightly between the shoulder blades.

"you could've been gentler you know." you mutter, sulking as he and the others collect the freshly fried spiral potato sticks from the stall uncle.

jay turns around to respond, already opening his mouth, but then his eyes flick upward straight to your head.

"where's your hat?"

you physically deflate.

"oh my god." you groan, tilting your head back dramatically. "we are not doing this again."

before you can even elaborate, jake suddenly appears at your side like he's been summoned by the word hat.

"here, i've got it!" he says brightly, already pulling a beanie out of his pocket.

"no—wait—jake—"

too late.

he reaches up and tries to plop it straight onto your head. you yelp and duck instinctively, the beanie landing crooked over your forehead instead.

jake laughs, of course, because this is hilarious to him. "stand still!"

you try to back away but he follows you, one hand on your shoulder, the other trying to shove the beanie down over your head.

"jake, i swear—"

you push at his chest but he's stronger, and worse, he's determined. he grabs your wrists, lifts them up like you're a child being dressed, and uses the opportunity to tug the beanie down properly.

"why are you all obsessed with my body temperature?!" you complain, twisting and squirming.

"better safe than sorry." jake replies calmly, like this is a perfectly reasonable thing to say while physically restraining you.

the others are already eating their potato sticks, watching like it's free entertainment.

"this is better than the game on tv." sunoo comments.

"she's fighting for her life." jungwon adds, chewing.

you manage to shove jake's shoulder and almost break free, but he just wraps one arm loosely around your upper body and uses the other to finally force the beanie down over your head.

"got you."

you freeze and immediately reach up and touch your hair. "…why does it feel wrong."

jake lets go and steps back, proud of himself.

you look at your reflection in one of the stall's metal surfaces and groan out loud.

your hair is completely messed up, sticking out from every possible angle under the beanie. little strands poking out near your ears, fringe squashed weirdly, the back somehow puffed up.

"i look like a stressed hedgehog."

before you can fix it, sunghoon walks over.

"hold on." is all he says. and then, with way more force than necessary, he plants both hands on your head and aggressively shoves your hair back under the beanie, squishing it down like he's packing a pillow into a case.

"sunghoon!" you yell. "be gentle—"

but before you can continue your lecture, niki suddenly appears in front of you and casually shoves a potato stick into your mouth.

"eat first, complain later."

you blink, stunned, chewing automatically and everyone bursts out laughing.

you stand there, beanie slightly crooked, hair definitely still messed up, potato in your mouth, surrounded by seven boys who have collectively decided that your autonomy is optional.

and you can't even yell properly because you're too busy chewing, but the annoyance doesn't leave you.

your body is already protesting by the time the instructor finally calls for a break.

thirty minutes. that's all you get.

everyone immediately scatters around the dance practice room like they've been released from captivity. some of the boys drop flat onto the floor, others go for their bags, a few head straight for the mirrors to rewatch clips on the company phone.

you, on the other hand, make a slow beeline for one of the folding chairs by the wall.

the second you sit down, your posture collapses.

you hunch forward without even meaning to, one hand automatically going to your lower back, fingers pressing in gently as you start massaging the sore muscle. the movement makes you wince a little, breath hitching under your nose.

it's not just regular practice soreness. this is… extra.

your body feels heavy, tight in places it usually isn't, like every muscle is quietly screaming at you in its own language.

and honestly? you know exactly why.

last night flashes through your head.

you had all been peacefully having dinner at the dorm. genuinely peaceful. quiet even. everyone was tired, half-slumped over their plates, scrolling on their phones, just eating in silence like normal human beings.

and then somehow — for reasons you still cannot explain — it had turned into a full-blown boxing match.

no really. one second jake was shadowboxing in the living room as a joke, the next sunghoon was squaring up to him, then ni-ki jumped in, then jay, then suddenly everyone had too much energy and not enough self-control.

and of course, of course, they had dragged you into it.

you remember clearly saying, "i'm tired. i'm already sore from practice. please don't include me."

and you also remember how completely useless that had been. because to the boys, "no" just means "try harder to convince her".

hands had grabbed your wrists, someone had pulled you into the middle, you'd been laughing at first, trying to escape, but the roughhousing escalated so fast. too much pulling, too much lifting, too many limbs, too much weight being thrown around without anyone really thinking.

you hadn't gotten hurt exactly. but it had definitely been too much. and now, you were paying for it.

back in the practice room, you press your fingers into your back again, trying to work out the stiffness, but it only makes you hiss quietly.

your shoulders feel tight, your spine feels strained, even your legs feel heavier than usual.

you'd tried not to let it show during practice. you really had. you kept your face neutral, pushed through the choreography, matched everyone's energy as best as you could.

but with every jump, every turn, every time you had to drop low or snap back up, your body responded with a dull ache that just kept building.

now that you're sitting, the adrenaline is gone and it hits you all at once.

you lean forward more, elbows resting on your thighs, hand still at your back, head slightly lowered. your breathing is slower, more careful, like you're afraid one wrong movement will make something pull.

across the room, the boys are laughing about something again. loud, energetic, and completely fine.

you glance at them briefly, then look back down at the floor.

you don't want to complain. you don't want to be that person. but god is it getting harder to pretend you're okay.

each passing minute of practice feels heavier than the last, and for the first time in a while, you're very aware of just how tired your body really is. not just from today, but from everything piling up from recent events.

it hits you all at once.

not slowly, just this sudden heavy wave of frustration that crashes over you before you can even stop it.

because if you're being honest with yourself… you've been aching for a while now. not just today, not just from last night. it's been weeks, maybe longer, where there's always been something sore. your back, your shoulders, your thighs, your arms. some kind of dull pain lingering in the background no matter how much you stretch or rest.

and when you really think about it, when you trace every little ache back to its source, it all leads to the same place.

the boys.

the constant grabbing, pulling, lifting, wrestling, leaning, using you as a cushion, an armrest, a pillow, a joke. being dragged into games you didn't want to play, into chaos you were too tired for, into roughhousing you kept telling yourself was "just for fun".

you had ignored it at first because you knew they didn't mean any harm. because it was always playful, always accompanied by laughter and smiles and "we're just joking". because you didn't want to be over dramatic.

but it was taking a toll. your body was keeping score even if you weren't.

and you're not sure how much more of it you can actually take.

you're still hunched over on the folding chair, hand resting at your lower back, lost in your thoughts, when suddenly the chair beside you creaks.

ni-ki drops into it with a heavy sigh, slumping back like he's exhausted, legs immediately spreading wide.

too wide.

his knee knocks straight into your right knee, then presses further, digging into the inside of your thigh hard.

your body reacts before your brain does.

you suck in a sharp breath, shoulders tensing, eyes twitching at the sudden contact. the pressure sends a jolt straight up your leg, right into a spot that already feels bruised and sore.

because of course. of course it’s this too.

the manspreading. the constant lack of awareness. the way they take up space without even realising it, without ever checking if you have space.

you shift slightly, trying to ease away, but his leg just follows naturally, still pressed against yours.

you can almost feel last night in your bones. someone's elbow digging into your thigh, someone's knee knocking into your hip, hands grabbing your arms, your waist, your shoulders.

your jaw tightens.

ni-ki, completely oblivious, just slumps deeper into the chair, stretching his arms over his head with a yawn.

doesn't notice your reaction.

doesn’t notice your stiff posture.

doesn't notice the way your fingers curl slightly against your own leg.

you sit there, silent, his knee still digging into yours, your body sore and your patience thinning.

you shift slightly in your seat, the pressure on your thigh becoming too uncomfortable to ignore, and gently nudge ni-ki's knee with yours.

"ni-ki," you say quietly, low enough that only he can hear, "can you move a little? please? i'm kinda sore."

he lazily turns his head toward you, eyes half-lidded, and instead of actually looking at your face, really looking at it, he just smirks.

"wow, noona." he says, already grinning. "we literally just started practice. don't tell me you're tired already?"

you barely have time to respond before he leans closer and starts poking your sides with his fingers, light but sudden, like he's trying to tickle you into laughing.

"yah—stop." you mutter, instinctively curling in on yourself a little, shoulders tensing. your back protests immediately at the movement.

he laughs, completely amused. "you're getting old~"

you don't laugh.

you try to shift again subtly, hoping he'll finally get the hint and move his leg.

he doesn't.

his knee is still pressed firmly into yours, still digging into your thigh, his weight relaxed and unbothered, like he hasn't even registered that he's taking up your space. he's smiling playful, clearly just messing around in his own head, completely unaware of the tightness in your posture, the way your hand is still resting protectively at your back, the way your jaw is clenched just a little too hard.

you barely get the words out.

"it's not like that, i just—"

before you can finish, something rolls into your field of vision. literally.

jungwon slides across the floor on his back like he's in a movie, stopping right at your feet, propping himself up on his elbows with that familiar mischievous look on his face.

"noona~"

your heart drops a little.

"jungwon, please." you say immediately, voice already tired, already strained. "i'm really not feeling it today."

he doesn't even process the sentence because in one quick movement, he reaches up, grabs your arm and tugs hard.

you gasp as you're pulled off the chair, losing your balance instantly, your body tipping forward and down.

"jungwon—!"

you land on the floor on top of him, the impact jarring through your spine, and before you can even orient yourself, his arms are already locked around you, trapping you against his chest.

he's laughing. full, bright, carefree laughter.

"got you!"

you yelp, the sound sharp and unplanned as pain shoots through your body from the sudden movement. your back screams in protest, your muscles tightening reflexively.

"jungwon seriously—" you try, pushing against his shoulders, trying to lift yourself up.

but your arms feel heavier than usual. weaker.

you twist, trying to break free, but his grip is tight, secure, playful in his mind but overwhelming in your body.

he just laughs more, shifting his hold, accidentally tightening it.

"why are you so boring todayyy."

you turn your head to scold him, frustration and pain mixing in your chest.

"jungwon, i said—"

and then it happens.

a sharp, blooming pain explodes through your back. not dull. not manageable.

sharp.

it radiates up your spine, into your neck, down into your lower back, like something inside you just snapped the wrong way.

your breath catches violently in your throat.

"ah—!"

this time, the sound that leaves you isn't playful.

it's real.

a genuine cry of pain, raw and uncontrolled, your body stiffening in his arms as your face contorts, eyes squeezing shut instinctively.

everything goes wrong in that single second.

your hands clutch at his shirt, not to push him away anymore, but because your body can't process what just happened, the pain pulsing through you in waves.

jungwon's laughter dies instantly.

the room, which had been filled with noise and movement just moments ago, suddenly feels… too quiet.

because that sound you made?

that wasn't normal.

jungwon releases you instantly. it's like his body moves before his brain does, his arms unlock from around you and he pushes himself up on his hands, hovering over you as you curl in on yourself on the floor, your body stiff, instinctively trying to protect the pain.

"n–noona?" his voice comes out shaky.

one hand stays planted on the floor to hold himself up, the other hovers in the air above you, trembling, like he wants to touch you but is suddenly terrified.

you're curled slightly on your side now, one arm wrapped around your middle, the other pressed against the wooden floor, your face twisted in a way he's never seen before. not playful, not annoyed.

just… pure pain.

"wh–what's wrong?" he blurts out, panic already seeping into his tone. "did i... did i hurt you??"

you try to inhale properly but the breath stutters halfway, your chest rising and falling unevenly. the pain in your back pulses, sharp and deep, like something inside you has been pulled too far.

your face contorts again despite your efforts to control it, and that's when jungwon sees it.

the tears. just beading at the corners of your eyes, clinging to your lashes as you squeeze them shut, your lips trembling.

his own breath catches.

"you're crying." he whispers, voice cracking. "hey, hey, i'm sorry! i'm sorry, i didn't mean to—"

he turns his head suddenly, panic exploding outward.

"guys!" he calls, louder than he's ever sounded in the practice room. "guys, come here. something's wrong—"

the room reacts instantly. chairs scrape, laughter cuts off mid-sentence and footsteps rush toward you.

within seconds, all of them are crowded around, forming a messy circle on the floor, the atmosphere completely different from just moments ago. no teasing, no energy, no chaos.

just fear.

"what happened?" heeseung asks first, already kneeling down near your head.

"are you okay noona?" sunoo's voice is soft, almost afraid.

sunghoon crouches near your legs, hands hovering uselessly in the air like jungwon's had been.

ni-ki stands frozen for a second, guilt flashing across his face as he remembers how you'd asked him to move earlier.

"noona." jungwon says again, quieter now, his voice barely holding together. "tell us what's wrong, please."

you try to speak.

your mouth opens, but all that comes out at first is a shaky sound, halfway between a breath and a sob.

"i—" your voice cracks immediately, thin and trembling. you swallow, eyes squeezing shut again as another wave of pain rolls through your back. "it… it hurts…"

the boys freeze.

"where?" jay asks gently, one hand instinctively reaching toward your shoulder before stopping himself. "where does it hurt?"

your lips part again, another tear finally slipping free and rolling down the side of your face.

"my back." you whisper, and the word barely makes it out. "it's— it's killing me…"

your voice breaks on the last word. the moment the tears actually start falling.

"your back…?" jungwon repeats, his gaze dropping to where you're curled, remembering exactly how he pulled you and how you landed, just how tightly he'd been holding you.

"i'm sorry." he says immediately, words tumbling over each other. "i'm so sorry, i didn’t know, i swear i didn't know—"

you try to shake your head but even that tiny movement sends another sharp jolt through your spine and you gasp, fingers digging into the mat.

that sound — the involuntary one — makes all of them flinch.

you break.

the tears have been threatening for a while, but now they spill freely, your voice cracking as it finally bursts out.

"it's not just you, jungwon!" you cry, your body shaking, your back aching, chest rising and falling in harsh, uneven breaths. "it's all of you! i've been telling you for ages to just… just be gentle! you have no idea how rough you all can be sometimes! i'm not strong like you, i'm not tough all the time, and there's only so much… so much roughhousing i can take!"

the words come out faster than you can stop them, spilling like a dam breaking. every frustration, every sore muscle, every playful grab, every manspread, every time someone manhandled you in ways big or small — it all comes pouring out, raw and unfiltered.

the room goes quiet. the boys freeze mid-motion, faces shifting from concern to dawning realization, to absolute guilt.

for a moment, no one moves, as if the weight of your words has made the air itself heavy. then slowly, one by one, their hands reach for you. some hover for a heartbeat before touching your arms, gently rubbing where you've tensed up. heeseung swipes at the tears streaking down your cheeks. sunghoon's hand presses softly on your shoulder, hesitating just long enough to let you know he's sorry without crowding you. jungwon is still kneeling closest, one hand holding your wrist, thumb rubbing slow circles while his other hand hovers protectively above your back.

ni-ki crouches beside you, softly murmuring apologies, looking like he wishes he could shrink down and erase every time he'd been careless. jake, pale and sheepish, gently helps shift you upright, letting you lean against jay for support as though you're fragile porcelain, which in that moment feels painfully accurate. sunoo has already darted toward the door, his voice calling for someone, anyone, to get a manager.

the air is thick with regret. murmurs of "we're sorry" echo around you, a mixture of soft apologies and choked voices as each boy grapples with the sudden realization of how much they've underestimated the toll their playfulness — their strength, their energy, their oblivious roughness — has taken on you.

soon, a manager bursts into the practice room, her expression sharp at first, softening instantly when she sees you being supported, eyes teary, back tense. she directs two staff members immediately to carefully carry you from the folding chair, her voice firm but gentle.

"we're taking her to the medical office, now. practice is canceled today." she orders. the boys nod quickly, voices subdued, following her directions without question.

someone wraps their arms around you securely, making sure you don't put weight on your back, lifting you carefully as the others fall into step beside you. the warmth of their concern is a sharp contrast to the exhaustion and ache coursing through your body.

you lie there, flat on your back, staring at the ceiling with wide, unblinking eyes. the quiet of your room presses down on you, heavier than the weight of your own body. the soft hum of the city outside barely reaches you, muffled by the thick curtains, leaving only the faint ticking of the clock to mark the passage of time.

the nurse's words from earlier replay in your mind, over and over. "your body doesn't look like it can handle much strain at the moment. a few days of rest, please." you had nodded silently, too tired and sore to argue, and then been whisked away, the boys trailing behind, faces still tight with guilt, whispers of apology fading as you left the building.

it's night now. your room is dim, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting gentle shadows across the walls, shadows that only seem to make the space feel bigger, emptier. you've been staring at the ceiling for what feels like hours, letting your thoughts wander where they will.

and your thoughts, as always, wander back to them. to the boys.

and then, inevitably, your mind lands on yourself. on the moment when everything spilled out of you.

the burst of frustration, the words you'd shouted, the tears you'd finally let fall.

and you cringe. hard.

your fingers twitch as you lift them to your face, pressing your palms over your eyes. your cheeks burn, your ears feel hot. did i really just… explode like that? you whisper into your hands, voice barely audible. was that… too much?

you know the boys didn't mean harm. you know they were just being themselves, being playful, full of energy and oblivious to your limits. and yet, the memory of your own voice, raw and cracking, shouts of frustration mixed with real pain, sends a fresh wave of embarrassment rushing through you.

your fingers press harder against your face as you squeeze your eyes shut. they must think i'm ridiculous…

just as you're about to breathe out another shaky sigh, there's a soft knock at your door.

your head lifts slightly, peeking over your hands. the sound is quiet, polite, almost hesitant.

"y/n?", "noona?" familiar voices call out softly from the other side.

your stomach twists. your cheeks burn even hotter. your mind races as you wonder… did you really go too far?

your hand hovers over the edge of the blanket as your thoughts spin, heart fluttering in nervous anticipation.

you let out a "come in." your voice small and careful, unsure what to expect.

the door creaks open slowly, and one by one, the boys shuffle inside, eyes downcast, guilty expressions etched across their faces. the usual liveliness and the teasing smiles replaced by something heavier, more tentative.

jay enters first, holding a small packet in his hands. you squint at it, and your stomach twists slightly in relief and gratitude when you recognize it — heat patches. the kind that soothe sore muscles and warm aches. sunoo comes behind him, carefully balancing a tray with what you assume is your dinner. the faint scent of soup and rice wafts toward you, making your mouth water despite your lingering discomfort.

they maneuver around your bed with careful steps, making sure not to bump into furniture or each other. there's a strange, almost reverent hush as they find spots to sit close to you. jay perches himself at the edge of the bed looking serious, the playful spark in his eyes replaced with concern.

"i need to apply these," he says quietly, voice low and steady, as though even saying it loudly might hurt you. "to your back."

you nod wordlessly, unsure what to say, still feeling raw from earlier, still tense from the soreness. ni-ki leans closer and offers to help you turn over onto your stomach, his hands gentle and careful. you give a small, soft acknowledgment and slowly roll over, pressing your face into the pillow, trying not to flinch as your body adjusts.

jay lifts your shirt just enough to reveal your back, and you feel a heat pulse of embarrassment, even through your soreness, but it's tempered by gratitude. the sight of him, focused, hands steady, carefully peeling open the first patch, is strangely comforting. he applies it to the center of your lower back first, pressing it gently against your skin. the warmth spreads slowly, seeping into the tense muscles, and your body gives a tiny, involuntary shiver of relief.

he moves with quiet precision, applying each patch carefully along your back, smoothing them down with the pads of his fingers. his brow furrows slightly in concentration, lips pressed together, and you realize just how much he cares, how much he's internalized your pain and frustration from the past few days.

from the side, jake peers down at you, his usual smile gone, replaced with a softer concern. "how are you feeling?" he asks, voice gentle.

your face is still pressed into the pillow, the weight of the day and the ache in your muscles making words hard to find. you mumble quietly, voice muffled, "my body still feels a little sore."

he leans slightly closer, eyes scanning your posture, watching for any sudden flinch. his hand hovers near your arm, ready to offer support if needed, but he doesn't touch. not yet, not without your permission.

sunoo steps carefully toward your bedside, the tray balanced expertly in his hands. he sets it down gently on the small table beside you, making sure nothing clinks or wobbles, the faint aroma of your dinner immediately reaching your nose.

jay, having finished applying the patches, slowly tugs your pajama shirt back down over your back, smoothing the fabric carefully above the warm rectangles. his fingers linger for a moment, almost absentmindedly stroking the material, a solemn motion that carries more weight than just straightening clothing. the quietness of the gesture contrasts sharply with the events of the day, and for a fleeting second, you feel a wash of gratitude and guilt at the same time.

ni-ki kneels beside you again, hands gentle and steady, guiding you carefully to sit up. he adjusts the pillow behind your back, fluffing it until it's just the right height for support, and tucks the blanket back over your lap, making sure it sits comfortably. you let out a long, slow sigh, leaning back into the soft pillow, finally letting yourself feel the comforting heat of the patches seep into your sore muscles. it's almost intoxicating — warmth and relief mingling with exhaustion, letting you sink further into the bed.

your gaze drifts slowly around the room. the boys are scattered in little clusters, some sitting on the floor, others on chairs, but none of them meet your eyes. instead, they all keep their gazes lowered at their own fingers, the floor, or the edge of the bed. their usual confidence, their jokes, even their smiles, are gone. it's replaced with a quiet hesitation, an almost tangible weight of guilt hanging in the air.

you clear your throat softly, cheeks warming as you feel their eyes finally on you. your fingers fidget nervously in your lap, twisting and untwisting.

"i… i'm sorry." you begin, looking down at your hands, avoiding each of their gazes. "for the way i snapped at you earlier… i didn't mean to be so harsh, it's just… my back was really—really being annoying and…"

you trail off, unsure how to continue, hoping they understand without you needing to explain too much. the room feels heavy with silence for a moment, the only sound the faint hum of the city outside your window.

then, all at once, they start talking. not over each other, but in that simultaneous almost instinctive way that only they manage when they're serious.

"why are you apologizing?" jay says, shaking his head slightly.

"it's totally our fault." heeseung adds, voice calm but carrying weight, his eyes soft as they look at you.

"yeah." jungwon says quietly, "we… we just didn't realize. we should've noticed sooner, we… we really messed up."

sunghoon leans forward a little, elbows resting on his knees, his usual bravado gone. "we like playing around with you, yeah, it's fun for us, but if it actually hurts you, that's not a joke anymore. we get it now, regretfully a little too late, but still…"

ni-ki reaches over, lightly brushing your shoulder in a careful, tentative motion. "we're… really sorry, noona. we shouldn't have been so rough.”

even jake, who usually hides his concern behind teasing, shifts uncomfortably in his seat, eyes lowering to the floor. "we… we'll do better. promise."

you glance up at them, finally meeting their eyes, and for the first time that day, you see it — the sincerity, the remorse, the understanding. it's not just words. it's the way their bodies are slightly tense, how their voices wobble with guilt, how they sit closer yet keep a careful distance, unsure of how to make amends.

you feel a small warmth bloom in your chest as you finally lift your gaze, meeting each of their eyes with a shy, tentative smile.

"thank you, everyone." you say softly, your fingers twisting nervously in your lap for a moment before settling. "even though… yeah, this time may have ended like it did… i just… i really am fond of all of you. i love you all very much, so… it's okay, i don't mind it so much." your voice wavers slightly at the end, the embarrassment of saying it out loud making your cheeks warm. "i'm just asking… a little more gentleness next time, okay?"

the boys exchange glances for a heartbeat, then one by one, they immediately nod, voices chiming in almost in unison.

"swear."

"promise."

"absolutely.

"never again."

you can't help the small, relieved laugh that escapes you at their earnestness. sunoo scoots over beside you, carefully moving to place the dinner tray on your lap, and gently nudges it closer so that it sits perfectly on your thighs. then, with a grin that's equal parts mischief and apology, he leans in and whispers loudly, "don't worry noona, i'd never roughhouse you like the other brutes."

he pauses, eyes twinkling, voice soft but teasing, "but still, sorry about everything."

you can't help it. the corners of your lips twitch, and then a small light giggle escapes, bubbling up despite yourself. the sound is infectious, and for the first time since you'd gotten home, the room feels lighter, brighter.

the other boys groan and shout playful protests, pretending to be offended. the tension that had been so heavy just a little while ago finally dissolving into warmth and laughter.

you lean back into your pillow, still smiling, still a little shy, but for the first time that day, you feel at ease. the ache in your muscles remains, but it's softened, dulled by the presence of the boys who care, who are listening, who are trying. and as you take a tentative bite of your dinner, you feel in the quiet of your room that things are finally okay.

author's note: sigh i wish i could be manhandled by enhypen. i was initially gonna make them have like a big fight over this but then i realised that i'm already planning on writing something similar in that sense in another work so i just decided to scrap that idea and save it for later. hope this one was alright idk i feel like it could've turned out better, kinda hard thinking about different ways to be manhandled lmao.

reblog, like and comment if you liked this!

- ̗̀ ( ˶'ᵕ'˶) ̖́-

-twocups

divider credits: @saradika-graphics | @cursed-carmine | @pagedgaps

[hoonieyun-deactivated20260809]

want u to like me

pairing: park jongseong x reader genre: alien!jay x scientist!reader, strangers to lovers, romance, angst, betrayal, slowburn, futuristic au warnings: dubcon, profanity, kissing, alien fucker i guess... tentacle sex, virgin!jay, self fucking anal m!rec, switch!yn x switch!jay, experimenting on living organisms (aliens), yn's job is really mentally and emotionally draining, there are a lot of morally grey scientists that yn works with, violence, mentions of blood, big dick!jay, mutual oral, aphrodisiac sweat, hyperspermia/squirting, breeding kink, mentions of sedatives/tranquilization, needles/injections, dissecting living organisms, usage of restraints ie, shock collar and chains, confinements, sweat/scent kink, mind control, knotting, yn is an orphan, mentions of various weapons, minor character deaths, lmk if i forgot smth !! 18+ not proofread at all guys the typos are probably diabolical i wrote a lot of this half asleep

synopsis: jay, an alien on planet earth learns to love.

wc: 32868 (dont ask)

──────── shout out to @soulofsim @intromortal @s1rawb3rry @xylatox @heejamas for giving me so much encouragement to write this and helping me step out of my comfort zone. they were such great friends for supporting me and sharing their brains to help with ideas, plot points, and world building. i've really wanted to try to write something different and it's kinda my first time writing this type of fic ifykyk so i'm really excited to share it with all of you c: i hope you guys enjoy it <3

“this is dr. ln– the date is january 12th, 4044; time is 245am.” you say while glancing down at your watch, the bright cyan and white glow illuminating your face in the dim laboratory as the band on your wrist projects a holographic image of the current time of day alongside the weather, the date, and other irrelevant details that you never paid attention to.

it was another tireless night in your lab, a day filled with research and experiments that blended well into the night and eventually into the sunrise of the next morning. that was your routine, so much so that it consumed a great portion of your own personal life that there was nothing left of who you were outside of being a scientist.

a life's long dedication to research where you felt no other choice but to continue.

most days you wouldn’t care about the strenuous length of work because it was for the progression and study of alien life. your job as a scientist was to study behavioral patterns and alien species. you’ve dedicated your whole life to studying them ever since the incident with your family when you were a child, leaving you an orphan; it molded who you are as a person and the thing that took your family away was now filling every crevice of your mind.

you wanted to study them to get to know them better and with time maybe humans and aliens could reside on earth without fear or the need for violence. aliens became known to humankind just a little over 100 years ago and although subjectively 100 years is a long time, the knowledge we have on them didn't compare to 100 years of research.

aliens were smart— most of them— so they mostly resorted to leaving humans alone; aside from the occasional alien that found it's way onto earth who do one of two things. they either learn to adapt and try to hide among the humans

or they wreak havoc until government officials catch wind and a hunt to capture them begins. aliens weren't ever executed when captured. instead, they were taken to your research facility where you and several other scientists took part in researching them— most of the time it would result in their death,

but it was all in the name of science.

and for people on earth— that was enough to not give two shits about aliens. that and the fact that there are around 400 alien related deaths per year— and that's just what's recorded, not including all of the ones that go unheard of by the news.

like what happened to your parents and siblings all those years ago.

saying that you didn’t have any resentment for the type of alien that killed your family would be a lie, you were only doing this so you could figure out their way of life and in turn, understand how to eradicate them from the face of the universe.

but that was proving to be a tougher task than you anticipated. after years of work and university, long hours of studies and research, space expeditions that left you wandering in outer space for weeks on end you'd think that you would’ve encountered the alien species that attacked you and your family all those years ago— but nothing.

you’ve come in contact with almost 100 different alien species and yet none of them share any similar characteristics as the alien from that night. 100 alien species out of the unknown number of total aliens out there, all of them just scattered across the universe, some hidden in the darkness, some closer than you think. you were going to complete your research one way or another.

there was a burning flame inside of your chest that fueled you to keep going. a small flame that you've chosen to hide in the depths of your soul, afraid that if you ever let it burn too bright or too big that it would just result in you burning yourself.

and you didn't need that when you're still so far away from what you've been looking for.

"species identified as 'Arma-44' brought into the lab approximately 72 hours ago after being captured in central city. subject was living among humans— a barista— before a sudden outburst that led to the subject exposing itself as an alien to every patron inside of the establishment.

enforcement was contact immediately and the subject was contained." you continued to speak into the small device clipped to your lab coat, recording your voice for later referencing as you begin your routine check up on the alien that was laying unconscious on the cold silver table.

it's arms and legs were chained securely to avoid escaping if it ever came to— which would be difficult because all aliens undergo a 24 hour sedation process. when they arrive at the facility they're injected with 100cc's of tranquilizer once every 4 hours while they're chained up in a chamber that fills the room with a constant flow of sleep gas— only turning off when it's time to inject them again.

the species you were currently studying was called "Arma-44" a newer type of alien species only discovered this year, hence the number in it's species name. 'Arma' comes from it's similar characteristics to an armadillo, the alien has a protective outer shell that it uses as a defense and that's pretty much all you knew about it.

but it was your job to study the alien so that you could learn more.

you walk a few feet to reach for blue sterile gloves, sliding them over your fingers with a snap, cracking your knuckles as you head back to where the alien is laying. it's scales were still present as it was captured during it's original form, unable to shift back into it's human— more acceptable— form.

when the alien was captured and it was time for sedation, the extraction team broke almost 20 needles trying to penetrate it's skin— the outer shell proving to be very tough— but because they were focused on brute rather than brain, they didn't realize that if they just took one second to pay attention, the alien's neck was vulnerable and free of any protective scales.

you prodded around the base of the subject's neck, feeling around for where their pulse could be, surprisingly enough, like humans a lot of alien's have their pulse in similar places but this alien wasn't providing you with any as far as you know. you checked every common place you knew of, the spots that humans have them plus the spots that you've learned from other aliens— and nothing.

deciding that finding it the traditional way wasn't going to work, you chose to drag the alien across the room, using your feet to unlock the wheels of the table and pushing it towards the large x-ray machine tucked away in the corner of the lab.

the machine lights up with bright LED dots that blink in configuration before the artificial intelligence behind the machine comes to life, instructing you to place the alien in the empty space to begin the scan. the machine begins to close, covering the subject in a metal sheath as the x-ray begins, a low hum from the mechanism fills the room as you lean back on one of the various tables laid out in the lab.

a sigh slips past your lips when you remember the time, your sleep schedule wasn't even a schedule anymore these days, it was more random and sporadic, becoming difficult to fit sleep into your busy schedule as if it wasn't an important thing that someone needed to regularly have.

the bags under your eyes only prove the existence of your lack of sleep.

"doctor ln, still here?"

your head snaps upwards towards the voice as the automatic doors shut behind the owner of said voice. you can see the hallway chamber releasing a sanitizing gas behind him when the door closes. everyone had to go through several sterilization procedures before entering the lab— safety measure and what not.

your eyes followed dr. kim as he reached for gloves and slid them on like you did just moments ago. you hummed in response before telling him that you're behind on some research and chose to stay late to catch up— gesturing with your head to the alien being scanned in the x-ray machine.

dr. kim was quite new to the facility, he's only been here just a little under 6 months but he's shown great promise with his attention to detail, extensive knowledge on animals that have helped with identifying alien behavior and creating connections between other species, and above that— he was really kind.

much kinder than all of the other people in this place.

much kinder than you.

"i find it hard to believe that you— dr. ln— are behind on anything." he responds, walking over to a table just a few feet away, squinting his eyes at the different vials of various colored liquids. his fingers carefully hover over some of them, he reaches for one and gives it a slight shake and it shifts from a dark red color to a bright cyan.

it was the blood of another alien species— the Aeros-Cline; a bird like alien that constantly adapted with the slightest change of weather, making it more obvious that they're not human because they're continuously changing appearance. you had the most information about them in the files but lately dr. kim's been looking into them after hearing that their progression as a species was coming to a halt when he noticed that the most recent Aeros-Cline that was brought in had traits that weren't compatible with the current weather.

it's currently late winter yet the alien was showing signs of regression, it's features proving that it hadn't adapted since spring from the year before.

"aren't you the one who yelled at a senior scientist for sending out a file late? you had him so scared that he asked one of the officials to transfer him over to a different facility." he says while putting the vial back into it's place.

you laughed at the memory— it wasn't your fault that a majority of scientists here were not only incompetent— they were also men. you already had a repulsion towards men— minus dr. kim— and that fact that he was useless for a 'senior' just pissed you off. you needed that file sent over to a different facility because they had a small window before a species they were studying was going to reach the end of it's lifespan.

the idiot scientist didn't send it in time and therefore the window of time of research closed which meant they not only didn't get the information they needed from the alien but ever since then they've never run into that species again.

"not my fault that guy was an idiot. glad he's not here anymore." you responded and it makes the two of you giggle.

"careful… they're always listening." dr. kim whispers and the two of you avert your gaze to the security camera that was watching over the entire lab— it makes the two of you laugh because you of all people couldn't give any less of a shit when it came to things like that. you were quite the controversial addition to the facility when you were hired on at 18 and after facing a wave of doubt and misogynistic comments from your peers, you surely proved them wrong when you were merely promoted to head scientist two years later.

you and dr. kim became quite close very quickly when a few colleagues made homophobic comments about him— you were all having lunch when someone made a slick comment under their breath like you wouldn't hear it— but you did.

needless to say that guy not only never made a comment again, he also had to learn to breathe properly through his nose again when you grabbed him by the back of his lab coat and bashed his head into the white cafeteria table, staining it red.

"i can't believe they couldn't get that stain out—" dr. kim says after the two of you recall that memory. it was true; they never removed the stain off of the table, it was there as a constant reminder to not be a fucking asshole. it gave more of your colleagues a reason to be scared of you— which you didn't mind because you didn't want them speaking to you anyway.

"yeah, well if your boyfriend heard that he probably would've made a bigger scene than i did."

dr. kim smiles at your comment as his eyes wander upwards like he's having a dream sequence of his loving boyfriend— park sunghoon, head of security at your facility. he was a quiet guy, nice and treats dr. kim well; the two of them started dating just a little over a month of dr. kim getting assigned to this location.

it was quite evident that sunghoon had a crush on dr. kim when he let him slide for certain things that he otherwise would've given others penalties for like smoking inside the facility or accidentally leaking his PIN to get into the building.

sunghoon was ready to protect dr. kim in many ways and it was endearing to see them be that way.

"scan complete. stay clear of entrance— species active."

the machine whirs and both of your heads whip around towards the machine at the voice stating that the alien was now awake. it didn't make sense— just before you pulled the alien into the lab it had just received another dosage of tranquilizer, it shouldn't even wake up for another few days if you were to pause its dosage.

dr. kim is quick to come over to you, gently grabbing your elbow to pull you further away from the machine as the metal doors slide open, releasing a white gas after sterilizing the inside.

but nothing happened.

the alien was just laying there— still— just like it was when you put it inside the machine. you slowly walked over but dr. kim tries to hold you back, you turn around to give him a reassuring gaze, that it was fine and there was nothing to worry about.

you were fearless in ways dr. kim wasn't— he admired that about you.

as you got closer to the alien you could feel your heart pounding against your ribs more and more, you had no choice but to check on it, confirm it's awareness and then call for enforcement.

when you're finally close enough to see it's face, the alien's eyes are shut like it was before, no signs of activity of being awake. you turn to dr. kim to tell him that it was just a false alarm— the machine having an error of some sort but when you make eye contact with him his eyes widen in fear, causing you to turn back around to see the bubbling inside of the alien's chest.

there was merely seconds of you noticing the deformity and the alien's chest bursting open, giving you practically no time to react.

the alien's brightly colored blood spews across the machine, some of it splattering onto your lab coat and skin— a gasp rips from both of your lips as you stumble backwards to rejoin dr. kim who was reaching for you. the two of you run towards the safety lever that was on the other side of the room but you're both left frozen in your place when a high pitched screech cracks through your panic.

just a few feet away stood the alien, it's hard exterior left lying on the table as it drips in it's own blood— thick, slimy, radioactive in appearance.

the alien stares the both of you down as it stalks forward in your direction.

"sunoo, the lever!" you yell, pushing him away as the alien swipes at the two of you with sharp claws. you didn't even know that the alien had the ability to produce talon like fingers— something you'd later need to document once you're out of this mess.

you manage to dodge it's attack, falling to the ground with a groan.

the alien shrieks once again and it makes you shut your eyes in grimace— "fuck! sunoo, the lever!" you shout again just as he's smashing the glass casing open and pulling at the safety measure set in place specifically for this type of situation.

the room erupts in a blaring alarm as lights shift from a dim white glow to a blinking red flare.

sunoo quickly runs over to you, helping you off the ground as the alien staggers from the flashing lights and alarm. the two of you cover your ears as you try to run towards the exit but the alien is quick to ground itself and with a type of speed you'd never seen before in an alien, it's dashing towards the two of you— grabbing sunoo by the nape and tossing him towards the wall, knocking him unconscious.

meanwhile, it lunges at you once again.

you dodge it's attack like before but not the next one, it's talon slashes through your coat and cuts into your back, your blood painting the white fabric. a pained groan leaves your lips as you fall to the ground, scrambling backwards towards a wall while your eyes scan the room to find sunoo laying on the ground— not moving.

that small flame inside of your chest was beginning to burn just a bit hotter as your mind shifts from flight mode to fight. when your back hits the surface behind, you notice that it's a temperature chamber and with quick thinking it gives you an idea.

just as the alien swipes its talons at you again, you slide out of the way as it crashes into glass, breaking the door of the chamber. you take this as an opportunity to run towards sunoo, pulling him behind a shelf so that he's not just out in the open before running back over towards the alien who has already turned back towards your direction.

it begins running at you but you're able to stop it by quickly undoing the locks on another table and driving it towards the alien, the heavy material of the tables crashes into it's midsection. it shrieks once again at the pain as you grab a fire extinguisher from a shelf and swipe one of the vials from the temperature chamber. the alien falls onto it's back, writhing in pain as it tries to turn over back onto it's feet.

in one motion you smash the vial at the alien— the glass breaks and spills it's contents, the blood of an alien you studied just a week ago where you found that if not in a controlled space like the alien's body or inside of a temperature chamber, the blood begins to boil into the highest temperature; so high that in can burst into flames.

within just a few seconds the blood erupts into a bright green flame, latching onto the alien and burning it— it's piercing shrill echoing throughout the lab as it burns, charring it's skin that hasn't recovered fast enough from peeling it's previous exterior— not giving it the opportunity to protect itself without it's defensive mechanism built into its DNA.

just as the alien releases it's final hiss, a squad of officers file into the room, weapons at the ready, sunoo's boyfriend at the front of the group. he yells a string of commands to his team but you're quick to cut them off with the sound of the fire extinguisher putting out the flame.

due to it's insanely hot temperature it took longer to extinguish— using up almost all of the canister.

everyone stops when the smoke clears and reveals a burnt alien smashed into the ground, the table toppled over it's body, pinning it in place.

"you ok?" sunghoon asks and you brush him off, telling him to focus on his boyfriend who was just waking up. he rushes over to him, panic clear on his face but he wears it well— concealing his worry with a stone cold expression as he pulls his boyfriend into his arms, rubbing his back and asking a million times if he was okay.

"i'm fine, sunghoon. yn took care of it, look—" sunoo says, pointing at the alien when suddenly it's body lurches forward with a hiss, shocking everyone including the fire squad who hesitate at shooting it, but not you.

you snatch the gun out of the hands of the officer standing next to you and before he's able to protest, you're blasting the alien straight through the head with the beam of the gun. the laser like bullet piercing through it's skull with a squelching sound as it falls back down.

"now it's dead…" you say before shoving the gun back into the officer's hands.

you turn around to leave but sunghoon calls out for you.

"thanks for looking out for sun— i don't know what i would've done if i didn't get here in time and something happened to him."

sunghoon wasn't an emotional person— he was when it came to sunoo— but everything else? not at all.

you stop him, telling him that it's fine and he didn't need to thank you, that it was your duty as sunoo's senior to protect him anyway. "go take care of him— i know he hates it when the aliens die." you mutter and sunghoon turns around to find sunoo pouting at the site of the alien— who despite trying to kill him just a few moments ago and knocking him unconscious, still felt a type of guilt and empathy towards it.

he was so kind— you only wished you could have a fraction of the kindness he had.

"yn— where are you going?" sunoo calls out and you stop just before you enter the sanitation hallway.

"i'm covered in blood" was all you said before walking out of the lab and into the hallway.

sunoo and sunghoon watching through the small window of the door as the sanitation gas fills the hallway. "you okay?" sunghoon asks for the nth time as he wraps his arm around sunoo's shoulders. sunoo smiles at him and answers that he's just fine— answering the same way each time sunghoon asked him.

you wished for that type of love.

they're so perfect for each other despite being so different. their differences compliment each other so well that it seems like they've been together for ages. you envied them— not in a negative way though. you simply yearned for the time you're able to find someone like that.

someone, who despite being different from you, still matched you.

someone who would look out for you— protect you even though you were capable of protecting yourself.

someone who could show you what true love is.

as you enter the anteroom and slide off your dirty lab coat and change into a pair of clothes that aren't covered in blood, your mind travels to the wound on your back that was still oozing blood that's now drying onto your skin. you wince at the pain— adrenaline subsiding as the pain gets worse.

the pain was so unbearable that you had to force yourself to make your way to the medical wing, stumbling into through the doors as dr. sim watches with wide eyes at your state. your face looks drained, eyes reddening and struggling to stay open.

"dr. ln! what's wrong?" he asks in a panic but you're not able to respond when you fall forward, falling into his arms as his eyes land onto the large gash on your back, blood seeping through the fabric of your clothes as you fall unconscious from the loss of blood. dr. sim throws out orders to the medical staff to get you immediate help, concern in his gaze as he lightly taps your face, begging for you to open your eyes.

✶

when your eyes flutter open, you're greeted with a bright overhead light, so bright that you're forced to keep your eyes shut, moving your hand in front of you to block the light until you're able to open them just enough to look around.

"wake up sleepyhead."

you turn your head to the side to find a smiling dr. sim, stethoscope hanging around his neck, wire rimmed glasses pushed up over his hair, and twinkling eyes looking at you. "you've been out for a minute now— no worries though, dr. sim's got your back." he says before offering you his hand to help you sit up right, "no pun intended."

you wince slightly as you move, your back still aching from the events that took place earlier. you're thankful dr. sim was still on the clock when it happened, he was the only doctor at your facility and it would've been a whole different story if there wasn't anyone available from the medical team. "just relax– gonna run some final tests and you can go home, alright?" you nod as he brings his stethoscope to his ears and gently does his check up.

"scared us you know… we thought you were a goner…"

"c'mon dr. sim, give me more credit than that. some alien isn't gonna take me outta the game."

the two of you chuckle at your lighthearted response, dr. sim slightly shocked at how you could joke around after the attack but he figures humor was just your way of coping. dr. sim was another person at your facility you trusted and could be comfortable around— a friend one would say. he likes to call you his 'best friend' but if sunoo heard that he'd probably start an argument.

you were definitely one of the quieter ones at your job— most people would say you're intimidating, but the people you've grown close to at work definitely didn't care about any of that, they didn't let it stop them from befriending you and you were grateful for that. you've never been one to know how to make friends so knowing they wanted to become your friend despite not really showing any friendliness was sort of nice.

"woah… this is weird."

"what?" you furrowed your brows at dr. sim when you can see the clear confusion on his face. "you're— you're mutating…"

"what the fuck are you talking about? what do you mean mutating?" you were beginning to panic, hand grabbing dr. sim's arm, pleading for him to explain except all he does is laugh. your face only gets more confused as he continues laughing, wiping a tear away from how hard he's laughing at you— "what the fuck?"

"oh shit, you should've seen your face, yn! i'm fucking with you— thought we were joking around."

"are you fucking— fuck you, jake."

"that's dr. sim to you miss scientist."

"no it's dr. idiot— fuck off." you shake your head at him after flicking his forehead, he pretends it hurts and dramatically reacts by clutching his chain in pain even though that wasn't even where you hit him.

"okay okay— sorry, you're all good, yn. i'll send you home with some antibiotics and you should be good to go. keep your dressing dry and clean, change it out once a day and apply the ointment and you should be dandy." he says while helping you out of the bed, your hospital gown crinkling around you.

"if you need help changing it you, you know where to find me." he winks and you roll your eyes in response. jake was nice, he was funny, thoughtful, and handsome, maybe in another life you would've pursued him romantically but dating your colleague just seems like something you didn't want to be a part of– let alone have as your first ever relationship. he was always flirty with you— in a friendly type of way but he never stepped over any boundaries.

jake was just lovable in that type of way, he even flirts with sunoo sometimes to piss off sunghoon and you would all just laugh it off, except for sunghoon who would glare at jake with a pout as he wraps an arm around sunoo's waist, pulling him closer.

"i've got your keys and things from your office, let's go."

"what do you mean?"

jake turns around to look at you, "i'm driving you home. you think you're in any condition to drive? yeah, right."

he doesn't even let you protest before he's grabbing your belongings from a tiny cubby in the corner of the room and taking your hand in his, gently guiding you to the garage beneath the facility.

the elevator hums as you two descend below the facility, jake still carrying your things in addition to his own belongings, white lab coat still draped over his shoulders as you're standing in silence. your eyes are fixated on the cold metal floor of the elevator and jake takes notice of how you look like there's a million things running on your mind.

"penny for your thoughts?"

"what are you a grandpa?"

"what's that supposed to mean?"

"sorry— i feel like i've only ever heard 70 year old grandfathers use that phrase."

jake laughs at your explanation and patiently waits for you to answer regardless. "it's just— the attack reminded me a lot of what happened when i was a kid. it could've gone so much worse, i'm just glad sunoo wasn't hurt more than he already was." your voice was small and had a slight tremble. jake could tell it had shaken you up even if you tried your best not to make it seem that way.

"you're the reason sunoo's safe. you did one hell of a job protecting the two of you, i know it may not mean much but you should be proud of yourself the way you handled all of that. we watched the footage and the way you thought on your feet? the way you made sure sunoo was protected before you even chose to act? it was like watching a hero."

you scoff, "i'm far from a hero…"

there's a silence before either of you speak again.

"still— i know it must be traumatic but it's over now."

you nodded, eyes still glued to the floor.

your mind travels to that night all those years ago. the terror that took place in your childhood home, the blood of your family splattered on the walls, soaking the framed family photos that were hung up, their insides spilled onto the carpet, staining everything in red as you watched in horror.

an alien tearing through you family like they were pieces of paper being fed through a shredder.

"hey, we're here."

you snap out of your trance and realize the elevator doors were opened, jake standing just outside with his hand out, waiting for you to step out of the elevator so the two of you could head out for the day.

it's almost 7am when jake helps you step into the passenger side of your car. he carefully places your things and his in the trunk before jogging around and sliding into the driver's seat. you didn't even question why jake was doing this for you because you knew that he'd probably just say, "because i'm your friend." with that cheesy smile you couldn't deny was charming.

"alright, you call me if you need anything. stop acting like a stranger, we're passed that." jake reminds you as he's rummaging through your fridge to put your medicine away. he acts like the place is also his and you don't mind. he was right, you two have gotten quite close even though you didn't want to at first. "thanks jake.."

"a 'thank you' from miss yn? dr. ln? where is yn… what did you do to her— oh my god, you are mutating, aren't you?"

he jokes around and you laugh with a roll of your eyes, shoving him slightly and shooing him away to the door. "seriously though… you take care of yourself and you call me, or sunoo, or even sunghoon's bitchass if you need something." he looks at you with a stern gaze but his overall soft demeanor makes it look cute rather than intimidating.

"yes, doctor. i will." you respond just as his holo-cab is arriving. an invention from a few years ago that's basically your own personal cab driver that operates on a link system connected to the cloud where you can map out routes of your own choice like your workplace, home, etc.

"alright. you take care, yn. i'll see you in a few weeks."

"a few weeks?" you look at him, unsure of what he meant.

"are you going on vacation or something?"

"no, yn. you're injured and with the lab totally messed up, commander lee is putting your unit on hold until further notice— shit, i probably should've waited til you got the briefing on that."

you shut your eyes in frustration, telling jake that it's fine and he should go, "you're probably exhausted too. you should head home, thanks for everything, jake."

he smiles as he gets into his holo-cab, waving at you until he's too far away to be seen.

you huff as you shut your door behind you, a series of clicks and soft whirring sounds as it locks behind you with your biometric system. a security protocol you had set in place when you got your house built.

a lot of your life choices as an adult were a direct result of everything that happened to you as a child— especially after the night you lost your whole family.

you didn't even have any energy to figure out what jake was telling you about your unit being put on pause by commander lee. too exhausted to do anything and if commander lee was the one who set it in place, there was no use in arguing with the person who signs your checks. you figured you'll check your email when you can but for now, you're going to sleep for as long as you can.

you let out another sigh as you roll into bed, careful to not make any sudden or big movements to avoid reopening the stitches jake did on your back. you're phone is finally back on after losing battery several hours ago and you spend just a bit of time scrolling to make sure you don't miss any important messages.

there's a few from sunoo, asking if you're doing alright and telling you how grateful he was that you were there. he adds that he'd love to go to lunch with you when you're a lot better, saying that he wasn't going to take no for another. you send him a quick response to let him now you're home and that you'll take him up on his offer once your body was feeling better.

he responds almost instantly to tell you how worried he's been and that he's so happy to hear from you.

you even got a message from sunghoon, something short, just him thanking you for taking care of "his sunoo" and then wishing you a speedy recovery. you chuckle softly at the way he's always making it obvious how much he likes sunoo by doing things like saying sunoo is his, slipping it into normal conversation.

sleep soon takes over as your eyelids get heavy and it becomes harder to keep scrolling on your phone. a quiet yawn leads to your eyes fluttering closed, your phone slipping from your hand and landing next to your head as you drift off to sleep. no longer wanting to think about all of the things that transpired just some hours ago.

✶

what you expected to only be a week suddenly turned into a whole month of being away from work. at first you were starting to appreciate the time off since you've never really given yourself the grace to take any breaks, your days off at home were also filled with research, but the longer the hold went on, the more you got frustrated.

your studies and research were being left behind. samples and lab work have probably reached their expiration without anyone tending to them properly and months of research and studies are now lost because of what happened a few weeks ago. you curse at yourself for even letting it happen, blaming yourself for not being more diligent and aware that something like that could happen— even though nothing could've prepared you for it in the first place.

it was a lot like how you treated yourself after the incident.

you just hid while your family was slaughtered, fear striking you frozen as you watched your family been torn apart limb by limb, so afraid that a scream couldn't even escape your tiny body as the alien who took your family away from you dowsed itself in your mother's blood, drained your father's life through his skull, and fed off of the fear of your two siblings who weren't fortunate enough to get away like you did.

fortunate.

a lot of people liked to say that about you.

"yn, you're so fortunate to have gotten away."

"how lucky that you didn't get found."

"it's a really good thing that alien didn't get you too."

was it though?

were you all that lucky or fortunate to have gotten away knowing that you could've done something to help but instead you sat in fear as your family was killed right in front of your eyes while you cowered behind the flimsy door of the laundry room— wooden panels providing ample view of the horror that played out in your living room, right where you used to spend time as a family— whole, together; and then never again.

✶

"ready to get back to work?" sunoo asks as the two of you stand next to each other in the elevator. he had the same wide smile and blushing cheeks you saw on him just a few days ago when you got lunch together. the two of you met up after receiving an email that your facility was finally done being put back together after the alien attack and that there'd be a few changes happening moving forward— none of which they specified but if it didn't interfere with what research and study you were doing before then it didn't matter to you.

all you wanted to do was get back on track and continue your hunt— sure the month break was nice but the longer you were away the more you became restless and eager to come back.

"yeah— definitely been too long. my lab tests are all probably messed up now and i'll have to restart everything, gather new samples and just hope the extraction teams are doing their job and plucking aliens off the street instead of polishing their stupid guns…"

your response comes out long winded and sunoo's just staring at you with a blank stare, "sorry, i'm restless…" you sigh and he just laughs. "i can tell. don't worry, i'm sure you'll be able to pick back up wherever you left off— plus you have me as an extra pair of hands and another wrinkly brain to work with!" sunoo's relentless optimism would be annoying to some but you appreciated it even if your face didn't seem to show that.

"you're right… let's get back to work, dr. kim." you say just as the elevator rings and the metal doors slide open to reveal your new facility.

"let's do it, dr. ln!"

the two of you walk through the shiny new floors of the facility, now a dark obsidian black to avoid the visibility of stains on the previous white floors— from the blood. the ceilings were higher, the lighters were brighter, and the atmosphere was… different. you couldn't quite put your finger on it but there was a stark difference in the way things felt inside of the facility.

like there was something looming— impending– that was waiting for the final straw to break the camel's back. everyone smiled differently, greeted you differently, spoke differently, but no one could sense the difference besides you. sunoo was too focused on catching up with everyone to notice how some people's eyes

"lighten up, yn. the place looks great!" jake suddenly emerges from around the corner, glasses low on his nose, lab coat around his shoulders, and stethoscope in hand. you and sunoo turn towards him and jake's approaching the two of you as you're scanning your badges, a short beeping sound comes out of the mechanism as it scans your figures before opening the entrance to let you in.

"like the new stuff?" jake asks and you scoff.

"new stuff? like the unnecessary security system? you think an ID scanner is going to stop an alien from getting in here?"

sunoo and jake giggle at your remark, brushing off the fact that you're right and the new implementations they added to the facility doesn't really stand as a new line of defense but just a bunch of fancy bullshit to make it look like the corporation cares for the well-being of the people at the facility when they really didn't.

"plus— it's not like they actually care about protecting us; if they did they would've done more than a shitty lever that makes the whole building alarm." you added and suddenly there was an awkward shuffle between you and the boys.

"what would you like then? guns and combat training?" someone speaks up from a few steps away. a new voice in the conversation that you couldn't recognize nor cared to— but you were sure he was going to introduce himself even if you didn't really care.

you, sunoo, and jake turn your heads to find sunghoon and another guy walking by his side. his eyes were sharp, nose tall and lips pursed. the way the stranger's jaw line clenched and unclenched made no difference in it's sharpness and the way his eyes spoke of nothing but an unidentified determination that he kept close to his chest— that chest that gave the buttons of his white dress shirt a challenge to hold on. you blink your eyes as the two men get closer and you could feel the stiffness that takes over sunoo.

typically he'd be giddy and all smiles at the sight of his boyfriend but you figured the man at his side made him feel some type of way; like he couldn't be his usual self around the stranger.

"hello, dr. ln." he begins, extending his hand towards you.

you glance down at his hand before glancing back up at him, hand left unshaken— but he's not fazed by your reluctance and cold welcome.

he clears his throat as he retracts his hand, shoving it into his pocket.

"i'm park jongseong— you all can call me jay; i'm the new lab director for this division and after the incident one month ago i intend for things to change around here."

jay goes onto shake the hands of sunoo and jake as they exchange a few pleasantries. "director park here is the youngest person to ever become a director at the corporation. his initiation was broadcast to every facility in our nation. he'll be a great addition to our facility." sunghoon adds, patting jay on the shoulder and you can see it in jay's face that he wants to shove his arm off but he doesn't.

an attempt to create a welcoming rapport with everyone so that he doesn't raise any red flags with anyone.

sunghoon's about to continue his ramble of useless knowledge on jay but he's cut off by the man himself to let sunghoon know that his achievements have nothing to do with what he's doing there— "i'm here to create change. i hope we can all do that together." the group murmurs a mutual agreement but you remain silent, just observing and doing your best to not seem cold— and failing.

at some point you all finally part ways to get to work, sunoo and sunghoon going off on their own to do whatever it was, jake needing to take care of a patient— like jungwon or ni-ki from the junior enforcement team who went a little too hard during sparring. you're trying to get back into your old office but the new badge scanners prove to be an issue.

you've sighed 100 times in the last minute as you continue to be met with a buzzing red light every time your badge doesn't work.

"new badges will be given out later today. your previous badge will only work at the entrance and after your shift today it will no longer have access to anything in the building."

you're startled at the voice behind, jumping slightly to find jay standing a few feet away, hands folded behind his back and shoulders tall; gaze still unreadable.

"sorry— i didn't mean to creep up on you like that." he chuckles softly and for the first time his usual stoic face softens around the edges in a kind and unsuspecting smile.

"it's fine." you turn back around and try to scan your badge again and just like before, the buzzing red light emerges and denies you access— and that's when jay suddenly comes closer, shoulder slightly pressed against yours as his arm stretches around you, a badge of his own in his hands as he scans it and a green light beeps before the door to your office slides open.

you turn around to look at him and he's just staring at you, not in the type of way where he's waiting for a response or a thank you, but in the type of way where he was trying to read you, study you, and get to know you with just his eyes. no words exchanged but it was enough for jay to learn about you just from the way you stand a little too far, arms are tense, and the way your eyes flicker with a certain type of distaste.

"your new badge will be ready soon, yn. it's nice to meet you." jay reaches his hand out again for a handshake and you find yourself glancing down at his hand again.

just when jay thinks you're going to leave him hanging again, you reach out and place your hand into his, a solid grip with a singular shake to 'welcome' him. "—and jay?" his eyebrows raise in curiosity at the way you've said his name.

"it's dr. ln; and i'd appreciate it if you didn't have access to my office moving forward." you pull your hand away and retreat into your office— which has thankfully remained untouched. jay watches as your door slides closed, the small window into your office giving him enough vision of you're still standing there, eyes boring into with a gaze that says things should be left unspoken.

✶

"god— what the fuck– hello??" you let out what seemed to be the thousandth frustration filled sigh in the past hour. you've been on your computer in your office trying to look through your past documents and saved research to see where it was best to continue your study but unfamiliar protocols and programs have not only been put into place in the building but also the tech.

your computer asks for credentials almost at every checkpoint, even to open your own personal files, and there was no way to get around besides inputting the same string of 20 characters, an authentication test, and surpassing a pop up that wanted confirmation almost every 10 minutes.

it was tedious work that took up more of your time than actual work.

you tapped the side of your monitor in irritation and slumped back into your chair, it's wheels slightly rolling your backwards enough until the back hit the wall behind you with a soft thud. your eyes traveled to your old badge that was thrown haphazardly onto your desk after jay had left, his words about your new badge being ready rings in your head and as much as you didn't want to see him and just wanted to get work done, you figured it was the only thing getting in between you and your research.

with another frustrated sigh, you hauled yourself off of your chair, straightened out your lab coat and pushed your glasses up higher before making your way to the front office to ask if your badge was ready.

it had only been a little over an hour since you got there but if you had to beg— threaten even– someone to get your badge into your hands within the next 3 minutes, then you would. the walk from your office to speak to janice at the front desk was short but every step you took on the new floors felt like an uphill battle, like the facility you spent so many years in before was weirdly unfamiliar even if some of the changes were minor.

"hi janice—" you started, leaning elbows first onto the counter of her desk. "is my new badge ready? i've been running into so many complications trying to get access into my work stuff and my old badge isn't very helpful."

janice raises her head to respond, except it's not janice, it's a different lady who you didn't know and definitely didn't notice before when you got to work that day. "oh! i'm sorry, you're not janice—" you quickly apologize and the girl at the front desk laughs before responding.

"don't worry about it. i'm tina, janice actually left a few weeks ago and i'm her replacement."

you had no idea janice left and the fact that no one seemed to bat an eye at janice's departure was a bit strange to you since janice was practically known to be the most loved member of your whole facility. no one ever had issues with her, she was always kind, and often made baked goods for the whole office. you were a bit sad to know she was gone and made a mental note to reach out to her at some point when you've got the time.

"as for your badge, we actually need to you to meet with director park; he's made a notice of some of your information in our system being out of date and as for the new protocol we'll need you to update some things before we can get you that new badge."

tina's voice was calm but it didn't help with the burning frustration inside of you. great— another thing to have to get through that's just going to prolong your return to your research. none of these new protocols seemed to be doing anything but piss you off and now you have to spend more time with the one person you seem to have a grievance with despite only knowing him for less than 2 hours.

"i can schedule you an appointment to meet with director park, he's got an opening at— i'm good tina." you cut her off. she just smiles at you before getting back to work, hands moving quickly across her keyboard as she types out whatever it is onto her computer.

you give her a small thanks before walking off.

if you weren't going to get any work done today then you might as well familiarize yourself with the new protocols set in place— especially if they're proving to be more annoying than helpful like a certain director claims they are.

as you walk throughout the facility, you begin to notice small details that have changed and if you were to point them out to anyone, they'd probably call you crazy— like the way air feels different in different chambers, the fact that there were now less sanitizing stations, machines that usually made several sounds during startup and activity now made little to no sound out all, some parts of the facility were considerably colder than the rest— little things like that you noticed yet nobody else seemed to bat an eye at.

maybe you were just thinking too hard but if you were going to mention it to someone, there were two people at your job you knew would listen to you.

"the air is different? what are you gonna say that the walls smell different too?" jake jokes around as you gather in sunoo's office.

"shut up, jake. i'm being serious— like there are just certain things that feel… off." you tried to explain and jake just kept making jokes but sunoo gave you a comforting gaze.

"i get what you're trying to see, yn." he adds, patting your back.

"what? sunoo, you think the walls smell different too?" jake questions and you roll your eyes, "i don't think the walls smell different, i didn't even say that!" you begin to argue back but sunoo is quick to put a hand between you two.

"i'm going to be honest, i don't notice a lot of the differences that yn's pointed out but i do agree that there's something different here. maybe it's that jay is trying to make the environment different in some way, he did say things were going to change, so you're technically not wrong when you say that things are different now."

sunoo looks over at you and your eyes are glued to the floor, deep in though as you pondered on what sunoo just said.

"jay? you guys are on first name basis?" jake asks and sunoo throws a pencil at him, to which jake dodges and picks up, sticking a tongue out at the younger boy.

"well, he did say we can call him jay. i don't think he's too bad, he does look a little intimidating but i think he means well." sunoo adds. jake shifts across from you, crossing his legs as he sits down on the chair just a few feet away. "i don't know, something's off about that guy, can't quite put my finger on it but i feel it. he's probably a taurus or some shit."

you scoff at jake's remark, zodiac sign being completely irrelevant to the matter, "what? it's true, taurus men are like so intense." he says, hands out in front of him for emphasis that you nor sunoo are buying.

"whatever— i'm telling you guys, just watch." jake says, throwing his hands in the air in surrender before slumping backwards into the chair. your eyes went back to staring at the floor, mind simultaneously running with so many thoughts but also drawing blanks. "what's wrong, yn? why are you so worried about these changes?" sunoo asks.

"nothing— maybe i'm thinking too much about it…" you muttered and you could see out of the corner of your eye that jake and sunoo send each other glances but decide not to say anything.

"i'm gonna go— have to get some work done." you say, hopping off of sunoo's desk and heading towards the door.

"you gonna have lunch with us later?" jake asks and you turn around to them before leaving. "maybe? we'll see how much work i get done. bye guys— oh wait, did you guys know that janice left?" you stopped again just to add that last question, curious to see if they've noticed.

both boys nod and your brows furrow at their reaction.

"okay… bye!" you quickly made your exit and although their reaction didn't warrant any red flags, it still felt weird. why would janice just randomly leave? she always told you about how much she loved this job even if it was just simply working at the front desk. maybe something personal happened where she needed to leave but even then, you couldn't help but think that something was off.

you're mindlessly walking throughout the facility, trying to avoid noticing small changes and once again, failing. it's not until someone calls out from behind you that you're pulled out of your thoughts, your head swivels around to find the voice and it's none other than jay. head poking out of his office and his big eyes waiting for you to react.

"dr. ln, do you have time to meet with me right now?" he asks as he fully walks through his door, leaning onto the wall.

"you sure i don't need to make an appointment with tina first?" you try not to bite back but it's practically instinct. jay chuckles softly as he walks closer, hand slightly rubbing his chin as the other is placed on his hip, just above the brown leather belt tied around his slacks.

"dr. ln, you're a very decorated and intelligent scientist, i can assure you i'll always have time for you." his voice is smooth, no signs of a stutter, hesitation, his tone doesn't peak or drop— completely smooth.

"lead the way." is all you say before jay is turning around and letting you walk first, hand out in a gesture to allow for you to walk first, head slightly bowed. you don't know what to expect with jay, you thought you did when you first saw him earlier that morning but with this being your 3rd interaction, he's not exactly how you've expected him to be.

he's a lot calmer, quite warm, and gentle.

when you walk into his office the first thing that you notice was the temperature. it was cold and not in the type of cold that makes you tug your lab coat just a bit tighter around your body, but the type of cold where you can see your breath crystallize in front of you.

"is it always this cold where you're from?" you try to joke but you can sense jay slightly stiffen as he rounds the corner of his desk, taking a seat in his chair across from you. "certainly not. i just like having my space at this temperature." he answers as he straightens out his shirt.

there's no semblance of cold in jay however.

sure his face could give off that demeanor at first but it was more his reaction to the cold that you were focused on. you were rubbing your hands together, you could feel your skin get slightly stiffer, and your lips get drier; but jay? he was acting as if the temperature in his office was at a comfortable middle ground.

"is it too cold, dr. ln? i can adjust it for you if you'd like." jay offers and you're quick to decline. "there's no need for that. i'd like to just get my badge so i can continue my studies. it's been a month since and i'm behind on research and i'm going to need to start off on some and just hope the enforcement team is able to extract aliens so that i can continue where i left off."

jay just stares at you for a moment before he smiles and gets to typing on his computer. his fingers moved across the keyboard in a type of speed you hadn't seen before. sure, a lot of people were able to type quite fast, you included, but the longer you watched jay you began to notice that his fingers almost blurred at the speed he was typing.

"dr. ln–" he breaks you out of your thought and you make eye contact with him, thoroughly, and for the first time you're looking into his eyes without disdain or reluctance.

"ye– yes?" you stutter, eyes rapidly blinking at him.

"i hope you know i'm not here for any other reason but to make this place better. what happened one month ago could've been a lot worse and your quick thinking and bravery prevented it from being worse.

it's people like you that makes me hopeful. i want to make change and i'm sure you do too." you weren't sure where jay was going with this but you chose to remain silent, trying your best to not let your eyes squint at him in suspicion.

"so tell me, what is your goal, dr. ln?" he finishes his question by leaning forward onto his desk, elbows propped up as he rests his head onto his fists.

you can't help but notice his features when he got closer. the way his eyebrows anchored his face, the height of his nose paired with the curvature of his lips, and the way all of this almost draws you to his eyes; making you want to look into them.

for a second your eyes almost go unfocused and his pupils shift in shape but when you blink the blurriness away they've not changed at all.

"my goal?" you ask, a sudden wave of vulnerability washes over you and suddenly you're a little girl again being asked by endless adults what you were going to do now that you're whole family was gone.

your answer to these things never changed. ever since that day, you knew what you needed to do, and it was going to remain the same until you achieved that.

"my goal is remove every alien from the face of earth— and to make sure no other alien harms another human again." your voice came out icy and sharp, rivaling the temperature in the room and as you spoke, heat returned to your face like you were getting riled up just from that sentence alone.

"an interesting perspective, dr. ln— here's your badge." you stare at jay's hand which is yet again stretched forward but this time a rectangular piece of metal sits in it. he explains to you that this new badge will allow for you to have access to all authorized areas in the facility that's connected to your status within the team.

"it also has security measures to ensure that it can't be duplicated, a security encryption that will not only keep you safe but also the facility." jay adds.

"security measure? i don't think we need protection from people but aliens? definitely." you say while grabbing your badge from jay, hand slightly grazing his in the process.

"violence isn't the answer— i understand your past and i can assure you that nothing like that or the incident from a month ago will happen again. not under my watch." his remark made you angry, he was speaking like he knew the severity of what happened to you as a child and although it was public knowledge and you didn't care to hide it, no one will ever understand.

you stand up in haste before jay's even done speaking. "don't bring up my past again. i don't care what you think you know or what you've heard— i lived it and it's my purpose. thanks for the badge." was all you said before you walked out, lab coat floating effortlessly behind you and when you return to the hallway outside of jay's office and his door slides behind you, you feel like you can finally let out of breath of relief.

the warmth from outside finally returning as you try to shake away the cold air that clung to your skin like ice.

you didn't fully understand what this interaction was with jay. it felt like such an odd push and pull but only by you. jay didn't do anything to make you want to push nor pull, but you were doing it anyway, like you were doing it out of your own will because he just managed to bring that reaction out of you with the way he spoke or looked at you.

you tried to shake the frustration out of your head but it only gave you a slight headache, your vision doubling as you lose balance, leaning onto the wall beside you for support and just when you think you're about to lose consciousness, a pair of hands find your waist and raise you in support.

"dr. ln? can you hear me?" he asks and when you try to look up at him, your vision fails you. black and white spots fill your vision as objects continue to multiply and when you can't respond coherently, jay takes it upon himself to carry you— scooping your legs with one arm and the other securely across your back. his legs swiftly move to the med bay with ease, carefully setting you down on one of the beds before calling out for a doctor.

by now you've lost consciousness, jay doesn't leave your side as jake arrives, worry on his face when he sees you on his hospital bed once again. "what's wrong, director park?" he says in a rush, pulling his stethoscope over from his shoulders and into his ears as he carefully listens for your heartbeat.

jay explains that he found you passed out in the corridor outside of his office, choosing to omit any information aside from that.

"i can take care of her, director park. thank you for bringing her here." jake adds as he begins to run a few tests on you and when jay doesn't budge from his spot next to you, jake looks up at him.

"don't you have a facility to run? i can take it from here." jake adds, turning back to you as his fingers gently press across your arm to find a good place to insert an IV drip. "you're a great doctor, thank you for taking care of everyone, dr. sim." jay smiles at him and jake's guard is instantly down. whatever animosity he had towards jay had melted away just from the singular sentence. in all honesty he had no idea why he was so against jay in the first place, maybe he was just intimidated by another handsome face in the office or maybe it was just the gut feeling he had that he couldn't really explain.

either way, jake gave jay a reassuring nod before the director left, leaving jake to look after you once again and to try to figure out what made you faint. "come on, yn… what's going on with you?" he whispers to himself as he carefully sets up the IV drip.

jay watches from a distance, observing jake in his environment without getting noticed, taking note of how close you and jake must be, how he seems to care for you a lot more than other people at the facility, and how jake's heartbeat sped up tenfold when he saw you on the hospital bed. the way small beads of sweat appeared on jake's forehead and slid across the worry on his brows, or the way he was so quick to figure out what was wrong, and the way jake seemed protective over you.

it wasn't hard to notice, jay saw all of these things without even having to use his alien abilities but with his heightened hearing, the sound of jake's blood rushing through his body in a sea of worry at the state you were in was like putting a conch up to your ear and hearing the waves of the ocean.

loud and clear.

✶

when your eyes open you're met with a wave of de-ja vu as the bright lights of the medical wing are the first things you see. your head is slightly aching but definitely not in the same way it was before you fainted— everything before then was blurry and the last thing you remembered was hobbling into the hallway.

"second time this month—" jake says as he walks over to you. "i'm starting to think you're fainting on purpose just because you like being taken care of." he continues as he grabs his holo-pad, a piece of technology like a holographic tablet, on a stand next to you, jotting down some numbers as he checks the monitor you're currently hooked up to.

you scoff at his joke before asking him what happened and how long you've been out.

"yn… it's been a week since you fainted.." jake sighs and his eye droop just a tad when he tells you. at first you blink at him, how could you have fainted and been asleep for a whole week without any specific reason, but shortly after because jake is jake, a shit eating grin breaks out onto his face and you figure out he's joking. "nah, i'm fucking with you. you were only out for like an hour."

you reach over to try to punch him in the shoulder but he's quick to dodge your attempt.

"you missed lunch— had to sit through sunoo and sunghoon be a couple all by myself." he says with a forced pout and all you can do is roll your eyes. "you're just jealous they're in love and you're single." you mutter and he feigns offense. "well, there is this smart and pretty scientist at me job…" jake starts and you're quick to cut him off.

"not happening, sim."

"— you didn't let me finish. i was going to say, but she's too busy studying aliens and making fun of me to date." he continues and the two of you share a quick laugh. "i told you, i don't have time for dating when i've got my research— plus dating in the workplace gets messy, sunoo and sunghoon only work because everyone is scared of sunghoon." jake agrees as he finishes the last of his check up, quickly letting you know that he'll grab you some pain killers for your headache and you're good to go.

"i mean, i could give you scary dog privileges. that's practically what sunghoon is to sunoo."

you give him a deadpanned look but you silently agreed in your head.

"please, you're more like a stray dog that follows me around for food." you say while sitting up as jake takes out your IV drip and carefully bandages you.

"you wound me, dr. ln…"

again, the two of you share a laugh but there's a part of you that isn't 100% sure that jake is joking and a part of jake that wished you knew he was partially serious.

but you're right, workplace romance does get messy and after all of these instances where he's had to look after you on his hospital bed, it would only hurt more if your last name mirrored the one he had.

"am i all good to go, dr. sim?" you ask, raising your brows at him tauntingly and he playfully rolls his eyes at you before saying yes. adding that he'll have your painkillers brought to your office later and to take it easy on whatever you're doing that got you fainting. he figured it's just your mind taking on too much after a month off work and you may've just overworked yourself on the first day back and although you weren't completely sure that was the reason, you settled with it anyway.

"by the way, you might want to give director park a visit." jake adds just as you're about to leave. you turn around with a slight furrow in your brow, unsure of why jay was suddenly brought up, especially since the last time jake talked about him, he was agreeing that jay was slightly… off.

"why?"

"he's the one who brought you here."

oh.

you weren't aware of that. hell, you weren't even aware what made you faint in the first place. although your memory was still a bit hazy, you were starting remember that you did meet with jay just before you fainted in the hallway, your new badge tucked safely into your pocket proves as evidence of when you met with him. "right!" you said, a little too loud like you were trying to convince jake you knew that.

"thanks jake! see you around." you wave him off, quickly getting out of there so he wouldn't ask about your strange behavior and to jake, you were being strange indeed.

he brushes it off with a chuckle and a shake of his head, gathering new and clean supplies to replace the dressing on the hospital bed you were just on. jake smiles to himself at your relationship with him. sure, he wanted something more but he respected you enough to not push especially because of how much he knew you were dedicated to your work.

but it didn't mean he couldn't wish that love would find him in ways he's always hoped.

✶

for the next week or so, as you try to return back to your usual routine at work while adjusting to all of the new protocols that jay has set in place, you've also tried your best to avoid him but it proves all too well that wouldn't be possible when he just seemed to not only be everywhere but also appearing out of thin air.

no one ever notices when jay walks into a room not because he's not of significance, but simply just from the fact that he's light on his feet and very quiet. sometimes people only notice he's there when they actually see him or he speaks up, usually followed by a "you startled me" or something similar to that phrase.

when sunoo asked about why he's so quiet or how he's able to make such little noise, he explained that it was from his training at a military base where his commander focused on stealth rather than brute strength and almost instantly, sunghoon's ears perked up.

"yeah but strength is good. if you get caught being quiet how will you get out of that?" he asked and jay answered, "i don't get caught." before walking out of the cafeteria, an orange in his hand halfway peeled.

"he's so cool…" sunghoon whispered and everyone at the lunch table rolled their eyes at him. sunoo making a comment about how if he thought jay was so cool then he should go date him and sunghoon could only pout before he continued to eat his protein heavy and light on flavor lunch.

it was the end of the week when jay was able to finally catch you alone.

every other time you managed to slip past him before he could pull you to the side for a one on one, when he sent you emails to ask if you had any availability to have a meeting you'd show him your calendar that was filled minute to minute, and if he tried to strike up conversation during lunch you would just change the topic or keep your answers minimal.

you're back to working late at night, it's 3am when jay creeps up on you in the new laboratory that was built after the incident. new safety measures, new equipment, it was bigger and like most things lately, it was different; but you didn't mind it. it was one of the things you appreciated that came with the changes, it allowed you to be more efficient with your work and you found yourself getting more done with all of the new tech.

"working late, dr. ln?" he asks as he stands just a few feet behind you.

"jesus fuck!" you jump at the sudden voice. you turn around to find jay sliding on sterile gloves over his hands before he walks over to you.

"sorry, didn't mean to scare you." he apologizes as he stops right next to you. you can feel him watching as you organize the test tubes with various alien dna, writing down observations onto your holo-pad. "you don't scare me— is there anything i can do for you jay?" you ask, not bothering to raise your head at him as you continue to work even with him in the room even if you preferred for him not to be.

"do we have a problem dr. ln?"

this definitely makes you raise your head to look at him.

he's got the same unreadable expression on his face, his eyes occasionally blink at you as he waits for a response, and you almost feel bad, like you've treated him like shit since he got here and that question alone has made you question who you were as a person.

you knew you weren't the most friendly or the most kind, but were you unwelcoming? and the type of person to make others uncomfortable? you didn't want to admit it but you already knew the answer to that without having to give it much thought.

"n– no. no we don't, jay." you clear your throat awkwardly and jay smiles after.

"great. i was starting to think you hated me." he laughs with a sigh. you didn't hate him. at least you don't think so. maybe you're just not good with change and that's what jay was. change. he appeared out of no where— like he usually does— and things started to change. sure, it's been a week and the changes have proven to be quite helpful in the grand scheme of things but change wasn't easy for everyone.

change is the reason why you were so devoted to your research.

how your family changed from 4 to 1.

how you changed from a daughter to an orphan.

and how you changed from happy to whatever you were now.

"i'm sorry…" was all you could say and by the expression on jay's face, you could tell you caught him off guard. he wasn't expecting an apology and neither were you. "i just wasn't expecting all of these changes to happen after being away for a month and i'm not going to lie it caught me off guard but they've been more helpful than not.

i'm sorry if i seemed like i was unwelcome to you and… i'll try my best to be a better colleague— director park."

jay wasn't looking for this type of response. he wasn't sure what he was looking for actually, he just walked into the laboratory because he felt like it and you just happened to be here. jay liked to wander the halls of the facility sometimes, he'd visit the containment facility where aliens were kept when they aren't being actively worked on. he would sometimes even talk to them but never for too long and all under the guise of "research".

he couldn't get caught spending too much time with the aliens, afraid that it'll raise some red flags with people even if the field he does work in involves aliens.

not a single person or alien on planet earth knew that jay was an alien.

he hid it well and he planned to keep it that way.

no one's ever gotten close to figuring him out and he wasn't going to let that happen.

"you can still call me jay. director park is too formal and makes me look like a hardass." he says with a soft chuckle. jay was weirdly calm and comfortable with you— not that he was standoff-ish to everyone else but with you there was a certain type of ease even jay himself wasn't sure where it was coming from.

you took note of his easy going attitude around you despite you giving a cold welcome and tucked it away in the back of your mind where you kept details about people that you felt like would add reason later on. you forced yourself to smile at him even if you didn't need to, you met his warm eyes with a soft gaze and awkwardly raised the corners of your lips before returning your attention to the glass tubes in front of you.

"you're a very hard worker, dr. ln. i admire your dedication to this facility— you know i've heard of you way before i even switched over to this branch. you're quite popular among the higher ups for being the young and determined scientist whose got a keen eye for detail and a sharp tongue— that paired with a mind like yours you're easily the smartest person in this whole operation; not just this division." jay was speaking like he was telling you things you didn't know about yourself.

but he was wrong.

you knew how smart you were, you knew how much smarter you were than everyone else, and you knew full and well that your capabilities was a driving force within this whole ordeal— you just never said it out loud because arrogance was something you didn't need to add to the lengthy list of things snotty old male scientist already didn't like about you.

"sounds like i'm not the only one doing research. tell me, jay— do you look into all of your employees like this or am i the special one?" you raise one brow like you're halfway teasing and halfway trying to figure out why he knew so much about you and was reciting it to you like it was a commandment. "the latter" he simply puts and the two of you move in unison to a different side of the lab where there's machines and monitors that receive and store all of the data across several compositions within each division.

"and i don't like that word." jay pauses for a second as he pulls out a stool for you to sit on, right next to him. you look down at the chair and up at him then back at the chair before you take a seat, muttering a small thank you as you begin typing out observations into a never ending document. "employee— makes it seem like i'm way above all of you." he continues and once again you're raising your brow at him.

"you basically are. you're our boss, hence the 'director' in your title." you shake your head with a breathy chuckle and jay kept help but laugh alongside you because you were right. he was technically your boss but he wasn't ever one for superiority and hierarchy, it left a sour taste in his mouth.

"you me there but let's drop titles, hm? i want this to be a team not a pyramid, i don't care who is on top or the bottom, we should all be working together towards a better cause. plus— we're all equal here, aren't we?" he says with a shrug and you turn to him and just stare for a moment.

equal.

you knew that was the furthest from the truth, especially in a place where they treat seniority like a shiny badge on their chest that's an instant pass to authority to those below them rather than fair leadership.

"i don't know about equal but i guess i can be okay with dropping titles. you're very eager for that anyway and as my boss— who am i to argue?" you're teasing him and jay doesn't realize this at first until you're bursting out in laughter. "relax— it was a joke. thought we were easing up, jay?" you ask and he finally catches on, laughing alongside you but just a little too loud and a little too eager.

like he didn't fully understand the joke but laughed anyway.

"right. easing up! i hope we can continue making jokes together, yn!" he says almost as if he's never heard a joke before and he's excited for more to come. maybe jay wasn't as bad as you thought, a simple conversation like this was enough to get you to open to him— albeit barely— and it was… nice?

you hadn't made a friend in a while, all your friends worked with you, and now add jay, you were starting to be okay with the idea of having him around. weirdly enough it didn't take long for you to warm up to him but you figured it was better to do that than constantly push back, that wouldn't get you very far.

for the next few hours you and jay get to talking and weirdly enough, you both have quite a lot in common. you shared a lot of the same hobbies which consisted of staying indoors and lounging at home, both enjoy the same type of music, and even liked the same type of food.

it was a bit weird because you were the one stating the subject and jay would smile widely before saying he agreed or 'me too' in an enthusiastic voice. it was weird but not weird to the point where you thought he was lying, just weird in the type of way where you never expected to have so much in common with him.

neither of you realize how late is it until you yawn and jay checks the time and it reads 5am. the two of you are quite shocked how late— or early?— it was and it was like time just seemed to pass by so quickly the more the two of you got to talking and working together. jay wasn't doing much work, he'd do a little of logistical work every now and then, give you a hand in some research but for the most part he was kind of just there to be in your presence.

he didn't mind it though. he was really enjoying being around and getting to know more about you. it was a complete 180 from the way your first interaction went and he was grateful it took a turn for the better.

"yn– it's late, you should head home." he suggests and you're finishing your yawn and blinking the exhaustion away when you decide to agree. you nod, telling him that you're a lot more tired than you thought and although you wanted to work even more, jay used his 'boss powers' –his word not yours– to tell you to clock out for the day and to take the weekend to rest up.

"can't have my best employee too tired." he said, gently nudging you with his elbow. you furrowed your brows at him and he immediately straightened himself up as if you were the one in a position of authority. "it was joke! right? i thought we were making jokes with each other now?"

you can hear the panic in his voice just as clear as you can see it on his face.

"i'm just messing with you, jay. yes, we're making jokes now." it sounded weird coming out of your mouth. "and yeah, i should head home. i'll just finish up here and make sure i've got everything secured before i leave."

"no— i can do that. you can barely keep your eyes open, you've rubbed them four times in the last ten minutes. go home, yn— i'll close up." you try to protest but he's practically shoo-ing you out of the laboratory, telling you that you have nothing to worry about and he'll take care of everything before leaving for the night. "i've got it, yn. don't worry." he says with a reassuring smile and just like most things throughout the night, you're weirdly inclined to listen to him and believe that he's got it handled.

the walk from your office to the reception to the parking lot to your car and then the drive home felt longer than it should've. sleep was heavy on your mind but the only thing you've managed to put in front of that was jay.

you didn't expect for tonight to go this way and frankly, you didn't expect a lot of things when it came to jay overall, but here you were now, settling into your bed for the night even though it's almost six in the morning. you've got your blanket pulled up towards your chin and the silk of your pajamas hugged gently across your body and you've only got one thing on your mind before drifting off to a peaceful sleep.

how much you were looking forward to monday and seeing jay again.

✶

the weekend goes by quite fast and suddenly it's monday and you've got a weird excitement in your step as you walk out of your car and through the parking garage. the usual hum of the elevator fills your ears and there's a tiny smile on your lips as you think about the work week when really you're just in denial about looking forward to seeing jay again.

you're so in your head about things that you almost don't notice the blaring red light and booming alarms that fill the facility until you're further into the building. your eyes widen in a controlled type of panic when you see the emergency erupting through the facility.

your mind is instantly trying to piece things together about what is going on. with the way this feels like an urgent matter, there was a lack of people running in a panic. you quickly scanned your badge to be let it, pushing through the security gate and running throughout the facility to see what's going on.

the first place you think of looking is sunoo's office as you try to remember if you saw sunoo's car in the garage.

your feet pads through the red filled halls with haste as you try to get to sunoo's office when a pair of hands suddenly grab your arms and drags you into a random room. a shriek threatens to slip past your lips but a hand quickly covers your mouth as the door shuts behind you. you turn to face who was responsible and come face to face with jay who has now let go of your arm and brought a finger to his lips, encouraging you to remain silent.

"what is going on?" you ask in a hushed voice when he removes his hand from your face, skin cold to the touch. jay explains that a category 5 alien has broken out of the chambers and is now running rampant throughout the facility. "thankfully i got here just as it happened and there wasn't a lot of people here— did you not receive the alert i sent to all personnel?"

you shake your head and you can see the way his face hardens in a protective type of way. like he was now devoted to keeping you safe and out of harms way.

"which alien is it?"

"Tyran-X13"

it sends shivers down your spine. a type of fear that you only remember feeling years ago. the tyran-x13 was an alien species that was captured long ago and bared similarities to it's predecessor, the tyrannosaurus rex. an alien species was able to absorb it's DNA from the fossil of a t-rex that was stolen from a museum before you were even born.

through advanced alien technology and years of breeding on a planet far far away from earth, they were able to adapt the t-rex dna into their own and evolve into the dangerous predators they were now. not only were they extremely violent and cunning, but they had a type of consciousness that stood as a challenge for not only humanity— but also other alien species.

they were so dangerous that they had their own chamber in the alien wing, where alien's are held in captivity. there's an extensive security measure to get close to them and there's a team of 10 enforcement officers guarding the chamber at all times. you can only imagine that if it broke out, then that means the guards are long gone.

hoping that it meant they escaped rather than the more morbid— and obvious— assumption.

"why are you hiding in here? is no one from the main enforcement team coming?" you asked him as you settled across from jay, leaning back onto a wall behind you.

jay explains that sunghoon's enforcement team are doing scans of the building and slowly making their way throughout the whole facility to find the alien— but it's been almost an hour and more enforcement has yet to arrive even after jay called for them.

it didn't make sense.

someone of jay's authority could instantly have a whole army at his call if he needed. that's how decorated and respected he was as a director— yes, you did your own research over the weekend— and yet they were taking their sweet time like this wasn't the biggest threat any facility has seen in years.

"we have to make another call— there's no way we can just sit here while that thing is probably picking off the officers one by one. if sunghoon gets hurt in any type of way sunoo will be devastated and i can't handle seeing my best friend like that." you try to get up and slip out of the small room but jay's hand grabs onto your wrist to stop you.

"don't try to stop me— i have to do something." you plead and he pulls you back down with a persistent grip. "i agree, yn. i've been hiding out here because sunghoon said he can't afford for the director to get hurt but now that you're here we can work together to help them, but we need a plan. we can't just go out there without any preparation. for all we know it can be waiting around the corner for us.

we've got to work together."

you nod at his words and they somehow manage to calm you down. you were starting to feel the panic in your chest but with jay by your side and his oddly cold touch— you were able to breathe slower and think clearer.

"okay— here's what we'll do." you say after giving it a short thought.

you told jay about how you didn't see anyone on the main floor and there weren't any signs of the alien like scratch marks of any kind or the scent of sulfur— the alien's natural scent when it's hunting; which is practically all the time.

"we can make our way back to the front office, use the direct line at tina's desk to call for help and then use the elevator to get out of here. i'll use the intercom to notify sunghoon and his team of the plan and hopefully they'll know to just leave instead of trying to find that thing.

i don't want to run from this but i'm thinking that if we face it head on we'll lose more people than we know we've already lost."

jay watches as you wrap your mind around the situation. the way your glasses hang low on your nose as the lens frames your sharp eyes and fluttering lashes, he takes note of the way you use your middle finger to push them up higher as you continue explaining your plan. how you can easily curate a plan with the lack of information you had about the circumstance and the way your hard exterior seemed to crack into a protective barrier.

in a lot of ways your walls that you've placed around yourself was that protective barrier, he was just lucky enough to not have to break them down as you let him in freely. he admired how fast your mind worked, the way your eyes darted side to side as you were in deep thought, and the way you bit down on your lip after you said something risky like separating momentarily to clear the entire floor just in case anyone else was still here.

"jay— are you listening?" there's an edge to your voice. urgency and… fear?

he was trying to pick up on your emotions but your face was always unreadable. it's why jay was so adamant to speaking with you. he's never met anyone like you before and the best way to learn about anything is just talking, observing, and listening.

jay nods and reassures you that he understood everything. just before the two of you leave the room he grabs your wrist again, gentler this time, you look down at his icy hand on your skin and look up at him. "be safe, yn. please." is all he says before he's pushing himself in front of you, clearing the hallway before pulling you out with him, keeping you safely tucked to his side with a direct will power and singular goal: get you out of here safely.

the halls are filled with a terrifying red light, the alarm has consistently continued blaring, and an unnerving danger coated the walls which each careful step you and jay took. your feet moved in a quiet unison, urgency and caution with each breath as uncertainty of where danger lurked remained consistent.

you figured since jay was naturally a leader with the way he's kept you behind him, acting like the first point of contact if anything were to jump at the two of you, but what lingered on your mind aside from survival was his steadiness.

he didn't flinch, his breath remained controlled, and not once did it feel like he was afraid. worried? sure. uneasy? maybe. afraid? definitely not. your eyes would occasionally wander behind you to make sure nothing what creeping up on the two of you but each time you ended up turning back around, your eyes would land on the way jay's kept his fingers laced with yours.

this was the most contact you've had with anyone that wasn't jake who was patching you up from an injury.

it felt all too surreal in the situation the two of you were in right now but there wasn't a lot of time to give a thought as the hallway finally opened into a clearing and the front office was just a few feet away.

you and jay quickly go to working on the plan. scouting the area to make sure it was safe and there wasn't anyone else hiding. jay took it upon himself to clear surrounding rooms and areas where people could be hiding while you made your way to tina's desk, quickly punching in your code into a device and setting off a transmitter that would notify the main site of the breakout and call for urgency to send over reinforcement.

"all clear— there's no one on the floor." jay says as he rounds a corner just as you're picking up the microphone to announce to sunghoon the plan, hopefully he and his team— and anyone else who could possibly still be here will know what to do.

"wait!" jay says, reaching forward and stopping your from pressing the open mic button.

"what? what's wrong?" you ask and he explains that the alien is going to hear the announcement since it will play throughout the whole building and because of it's heightened intelligence there's a very strong chance that the alien will make it's way to the front exit and block anyone else who tries to escape. "fuck— you're right…" the two of you stand without another word as you try to think of another solution.

"i've got it." you say, meeting jay's eyes.

"with the alarms still going on, if we mix it with a low pitched frequency sound together it'll temporarily impair the alien's hearing." you explain and jay instantly catches. "that way after the sound has played for long enough you can send out the message without worrying about the alien hearing it. yn, you're a genius!" jay says enthusiastically, almost reaching forward to pull you in for a triumphant hug but he ultimately stops himself.

"exactly— except where are we going to find something that gives out a low frequency?"

road block. again.

"yn, you know this building better than i do. there must be something we can use." jay speaks over the alarms and although it's hard to hear him, his voice is clear enough to get you thinking. he's right, there has to be something but you aren't able to think as straight as you want with the sirens still on. "okay— change of plans. we turn off the alarms and head to security wing. there's a log in the main computer that shows when the last time a door is opened to each division of the facility.

we turn off the sirens with your authority bypass, monitor the log to figure out where anyone else could be, and then we exit through the southern exit. it's on the other side of the building but it's the only plan we've got now."

jay's eyes wander around for a moment as he thinks yet his face remains unreadable as always. you can't tell what he's thinking except the fact that he's got something he wants to say. "what? you don't think it's a good idea?" you ask and wipes his hand across his jaw before speaking.

"it's not that it's just— we can leave. it's sunghoon's job, it's the enforcement team's job to take care of this. they're meant to protect us, the exit is right there; we can leave."

your eyes furrow at him in disbelief. you couldn't believe the director of all things was encouraging you to turn your back on your team. sure, all you really cared about was sunghoon but at the end of the day you aren't as heartless as many like to believe. you care deeply, you just choose not to show that, and the last thing you're going to do is abandon people who need help when all your life that itself has plagued your existence.

"i don't know how you do things where you came from director park but i'm not abandoning anyone. you can either stay here or leave or— you can come with me and do the right thing." you don't know where this courage is coming from because in all honesty you knew your plan was risky. roaming the building while a dangerous alien was on the loose was practically a death sentence but the guilt you've harbored your whole life was heavy in your chest and you felt as though this was the only thing you could do.

you brush past jay but he grabs your wrist again to stop you just like before.

"director park, let me go— jay." he cuts you off with a low and stern voice. "it's jay. stop calling me director park. i'll go with you but the second this gets more dangerous it is now as your director i'm using my authority and dragging you out here myself. i can't lose you."

his words weigh more than they should. what did he mean he can't lose you? you've barely known each other for that long and the way he's determined to keep you protected even if you were once so cold to him. "fine— let's go." is all you say as you tug your arm out of his grip and get to moving to the south wing where the security division is.

it's tucked away all the way on the opposite end of the facility because it's much closer to where the aliens are held in confinement but as of lately, the idea of having the enforcement team somewhere more convenient for the whole building was starting to make more sense.

the way to the security wing is long and awkward. there's something hanging between you and jay. something that remained unsaid but you weren't sure who it should be uttered from. you're constantly keeping your head on a swivel, occasionally ducking into hidden spaces or behind corners when something feels a little too risk. carefully checking corners before entering another hall and keeping your footsteps quick and light— and eventually, you arrive at the security wing with jay close by.

"okay, you turn off the sirens and i'll check the logs." you instruct and jay follows along like you're the one in charge. jay scans his badge and inputs a string of characters into a holographic keypad while you scan your badge on the opposite side of him into the computer. your finger moves across the screen as you look for the logs within the last hour and there you find that the last entrances that were active are the one at the front— you and jay, the scanners near the medical wing and the scanner in the central tech unit.

your brows furrowed at the second log.

why was there a recent entry at the entrance. something got scanned in that area meaning there was someone there and unless it was sunghoon or any other enforcement team member, there was no reason to be down there unless…

"shit."

"why? what's wrong, yn?" jay asks and you show him the log.

"someone recently entered the tech unit— 2 minutes ago. i don't want to jump to conclusions but i doubt the enforcement team will waste time checking such a small space, which means it could possibly be the alien."

"what does that mean? why is that a problem, yn?"

before you can answer the lights in the whole building and the sirens all shut down. "fuck! that wasn't me!" jay groans as he continues pressing codes into the machine.

"jay— it's the alien. it's been looking for the tech unit so it can malfunction the building's wiring and leaves all of us with no tech— meaning all security doors are open." every cell that kept the alien's behind bars was now left unlocked and it also meant locking features on doors no longer worked, which meant that the very room you and jay were in could easily be opened by an alien.

jay opens his mouth to speak but a loud shrieking noise echos through the vents about the two of you before he has the opportunity to. you move your finger in front of your lips to let jay know to be quiet because that sound alone let you know that not only an alien was nearby but a dangerous alien at that.

the screech comes from a category 3 alien. it's nature isn't inherently violent however in high stress situations and unfamiliar terrain, it actives it's defense mechanism that's stored inside of it's gullet. this alien doesn't bare any comparisons or relation to an animal species from earth. it comes from a planet light years away from earth that's only been visited one time before being deemed to dangerous to land on.

why?

sound doesn't exist there. the alien species that inhabit that planet never make noise because of wave interference that completely eliminates the sound based on it's frequency. the planet itself is alive and any deliberate sound that's made, the land will counteract that sound to cancel it out but the alien species on that planet have adapted throughout the years and as their species began to hunt and gain more cognitive abilities, they developed their high pitched shrieking as not only as a way to hunt and protect, but communication.

their screeches can range in pitch, frequency, volume, all of it. meaning that they can control how loud it goes and you've seen the way the they've killed test subjects like rats and snakes when they sense danger and right now, although they are a danger to you and jay.

you are just as much a danger to them.

"yn— stay here. i'm going to see if i can find sunghoon or anyone from the enforcement team towards the medical wing and we'll come back for you. barricade the door and don't let anyone in unless it's me." jay instructs and you're about to protest when your vision suddenly gets blurry, shadows and minimal light blend together and jay's face is barely recognizable. "you can't go out there, it's too dangerous." you mumble.

jay grabs hold of your shoulders and rubs your arms gently, "i'll be fine. yn, as your director i command you to stay here and if you leave this room i won't have any choice but to terminate your involvement at this facility."

"you can't do that. jay we need to stick together, what if something happens to you before you can even find sunghoon?"

"trust me, yn. nothing is going to happen to me. please just stay here, i promise this will be over soon— just stay here. please say it."

"i— okay. i'll stay here."

he gives your arms a tender squeeze before heading towards the door but you call out for him just before he can leave. "jay— please be careful." your vision is back to normal and you can clearly see the way jay's face softens at your words. again, you find yourself unsure of why you're not only so warm to jay all of a sudden but there were more pressing issues than unidentified emotions between you and jay.

"i will, yn. don't worry about me."

✶

it's been about 10 minutes— or so you think, none of the technology in the room work anymore except for the small emergency light that outlines the ceiling in a low soft blue color. you barricaded the door with file cabinets, chairs, and whatever else you could find. it probably didn't provide much defense but at least you'll know if someone was trying to get in if the objects started to move.

you've probably let out a sigh every minute that jay has been gone. you don't know why you're so worried about him especially if you were so unwelcome to him just some time ago. why were you so suddenly so at ease around him? there was a weird magnetic pull that you felt with jay and the more you recall your interactions, you can remember that feeling at each one except for the very first time you met.

you didn't understand it.

jay was the first person to make you feel at ease and warm— you didn't even mean to feel that way towards him. sunoo and jake took some time to get you to even agree to eating lunch with them and yet you feel so familiar with jay in the short time you've known him.

there was a certain type of aura that surrounded jay. it was like he had a way of making you comply and listen to him. you were so against him at first but after just simple moments with him like chatting in the lab, you find yourself wanting to not only get to know more about him, but to be around him more often too.

the only way you could describe it was weird.

jay was weird. you're weird. your emotions are weird. all of this is so weird.

"get it together, yn ln." you say, lightly slapping your forehead with yet another sigh.

you're restless inside of the room that's meant to protect you but all you have on your mind is worry. anxiety was building inside of you the longer jay was gone and just when you were about to say fuck it and leave the room, a soft knock can be heard at the door.

"yn! it's jay, open up!" he says and you feel a wave of relief wash over you but before you could begin to move the objects blocking the door, the hairs on the back of your neck suddenly perk up, raising a red flag in your mind.

you slowly begin to back away from the door, fearing that the thing calling out from behind you isn't jay at all. you remain silent, afraid that it'll suddenly react violently if it hears you and judging from the assumption you have that this could be the copycat alien that has been in your custody for years, you could only imagine that animosity it has against you.

it was rude, played mind games with it's ability to shape shift into any living creature it's seen even for only one second, and can copy their voice.

unluckily for you, you aren't paying attention when you back away and knock over an object on the desk, causing the alien behind the door to bang on the door to be let in. "dr. ln i know you're in there! i've known you long enough to be able to hear your breathing pattern. i can hear the blood inside of you flowing through your veins— dr. ln i know it's you. LET ME IN." it's violent thrashing against the door is getting harder and harder and there was nothing you could use inside of the room to protect yourself.

you were beginning to feel just as helpless as you felt when you were a little girl all those years ago and that anxiety was beginning to boil over in bubbling rage.

the rattling at the door suddenly comes to a halt and there's only silence left. you begin to carefully walk towards the door again, hand slowly reaching forward for to move the objects out of the way but a voice calls out to you again. "yn! it's me. i promise it's me please, it's safe now. i promise."

it's jay.

or is it?

"i killed it— it's not out here anymore i promise." there was different tremble in his voice. you really couldn't decipher whether it was jay or the alien until another voice can be heard from the other side of the door.

sunghoon's.

"yn, it's clear. we're here to get you and get out of here. we need to go." his voice was stern and low, like the sunghoon you knew and although you couldn't decide if there was any inkling in your body that it couldn't be sunghoon, you chose to push aside the objects blocking the door and pull it open.

outside stood jay.

and only jay.

"shit—" suddenly hands are pressed against your throat and you're being slammed against a wall and raised into the air.

"fool." the alien says before shifting into it's natural appearance. prickly green skin with scales that are constantly moving in waves across it's muscles.

"let me go." you choke out as your hands grab onto the alien's wrist to try to pull yourself away but you prove to be much weaker than the creature. it laughs in your face with bitterness, flashing it's sharp teeth. "where's the fun in that, dr. ln? i've waited for this moment for years.

to get my hands on your human neck and squeeze tighter and tighter until the life slowly seeps out of your eyes. you and all those scientists tested on me until i could barely recognize myself anymore— do you know how hard that is for my kind?

you guys stole so much from me; it's only fair i do the same."

the grip gets tighter around your neck and you could feel your eyes beginning to bulge out of their sockets and breathing was beginning to feel like a far option. you try battering at it's arms, reaching for it's face to scratch at it but it just pretends to bite at you, laughing when you pull away in fear.

"keep trying little human. seeing your fight for survival disappear will make you taste all the better." their kind weren't even carnivores and yet the treatment they've received from the studies and research has driven it to resort to a savage violence that's uncommon in their nature.

utterly destroyed from their natural being and shaped into a violent creature because of they were treated by society, scientists— you.

"hey!" a voice shouts from the side and you both turn your heads to find jay standing there, eyes glowing red in a fiery glare as he rushes forward, tentacles breaking through the skin on his back and attacking the alien that's choking you half to death.

the alien's grip finally lets go of you and you fall to the ground gasping for air, hands reaching for your throat to soothe the pain as jay lunges forward against the alien. he uses his dark purple tentacles that reflect like silver and fights off the alien, clearly stronger as he tears the alien apart with ease, bright yellow blood splattering against the walls and on his skin as the alien who previously tried to kill you was nothing but lifeless pieces of muscle on the ground.

you're still trying to catch your breath when jay turns towards you, his once red eyes instantly dulling down and tentacles retreat back into his back like nothing.

that's when you realized something— the tentacles look more familiar than you were comfortable with.

"it's you… you're— you're the alien that killed my family." you say while scrambling on the floor, trying to create more distance between you and jay as he walks over to you like everything was normal. he was back to normal— but you're never getting the sight of his tentacles out of your head no matter how hard you tried.

"no– no! yn that wasn't me, i swear to you i would never hurt anyone you love. i just— fuck! i couldn't let that thing kill you, i'm sorry." jay was pleading to you like he was the one at your mercy but as he stood— towered— over you while your body trembled on the ground beneath him, there was a clear difference in power, titles aside.

"get the fuck away from me. you're a monster!" you began to shout, finally able to get on your feet so you can create more distance between the two of you but jay is relentless. he's got nothing but remorse on his face and for the first time you can read his expression.

it was almost like he was guilty. for what exactly? the fact that he was an alien and lied to you and probably countless others? or the fact that he had to expose himself.

"i promise you i'm not like all of them. yes, i'm an alien but i've never killed a human before, you have to believe. i'm not the alien that killed your family but it was my species. you have every right to be angry— angry?" your voice cuts him off like a blade.

"angry is the least of my emotions. you lied! you betrayed my trust, how fucking dare you try to plead for forgiveness when you stood in my face and looked me in the eyes while you told me yourself you knew what happened to my family.

what your kind did to my family.

you must be out of your mind if you think i have any other choice but to turn you in."

you can see the frustration on jay's face at your disgust towards him. it wasn't supposed to go this way. jay wasn't even meant to fall in love with you— that was the furthest thing he wanted. he didn't even know what love was and yet when he thought of the word that humans used with someone they held dear, the first person he could think of was you.

he didn't care that your time together has been short because the way you feel around him was unlike any other emotion he's tried to learn from the humans around him. you were different in the type of way he wanted to become a part of your life, wanted to learn endless things about you, and to learn what kind of future it would look like if you were by his side.

but he fucked it all up trying to save you even if he didn't regret saving your life, he had no idea what to do now that he's exposed himself to be an alien.

"please, yn. it's still me, i'm still jay."

"i don't even know you. we've barely known each other what makes you think i'm ever going to listen to anything you have to say now. you're lucky i have no weapons on me because i'd have you laid out on the ground by now." your voice cut sharper than his tentacles and jay would be lying if he said that your words didn't hurt.

he hated seeing you so afraid of you him but not only that, so disgusted.

were you simply just an alien to him? a monster, like you said?

jay tried to stutter another string of pleas but is cut off when sunghoon and his enforcement team round the corner. "sunghoon! get him! he's an alien!" you shout, hiding behind your friend who is shocked at your claims.

"what are you talking about? director park?" jungwon, a junior enforcement team member asks. you nod in response and they all take position, forming a human shield formation around you with blasters aimed at jay.

"enforcement team division beta as your director i command you to stand down." jay says but they all stand firm in their spots except one. ni-ki, another junior enforcement member who is torn between abiding by the laws of being an officer and continuing pursuit of protection against aliens or listening to his higher up.

"ni-ki, position. do not lower your weapon." sunghoon commands and the younger boy is instantly raising his gun again and steadying himself.

"yn– are you sure? how do you know?" sunghoon asks and you have no choice but to step in front of him to prove it. you snatch a weapon that's strapped to sunghoon's hip and push yourself in front of him, cutting him off when he tries to ask what you're doing.

"show them, jay." you say and he just stands there. staring you and everyone else down to try and prove you wrong. it was almost like you had no other choice to prove that jay was an alien so you aim your gun at him which makes sunghoon reach forward to try and stop you but you merely just shove him off. "do it, jay. fucking show them or else!"

"or else what, dr. ln? put the gun down please." he says while raising his hands in the air as if he's innocent.

once again– you feel like you have no other choice.

everyone assumed you were about to shoot jay but you do something else, catching them all off guard. you move the tip of the gun towards your temple and just before you're able to press on the trigger, a tentacle rips out of jay's back and snatches the gun away. you knew you could leverage yourself against him. for whatever reason, jay was inclined to protect you and you knew now that it was out of guilt.

you can hear gasps and strings of curses behind you at the spectacle of jay's tentacles reaching forward, the gun previously in your hand now wrapped in between a tentacle.

"i told you." you mutter as your gaze gets sharper.

"you guys have to understand that this is who i am. i'm not violent, i will never hurt any of you but please.

please. do not give me a reason to defend myself." jay says, taking one slow step back as he brings the gone closer to him and tosses it to the side before his tentacle retracts back into his body.

"then surrender. you don't want to hurt us?" you say while turning around again and grabbing something off of sunghoon's utility belt. "then surrender yourself and put this on. i can assure you that you may be strong and dangerous but you're not coming out of this without a scratch on you." you say before tossing something at his feet.

metal clanks against the marble floor and when jay looks down he sees a shock collar sliding towards him.

he couldn't believe it. you were treating him like every other alien you've ever encountered. jay knew about your history and yet he chose to get close to you anyone because of what he knew. was it guilt? partially. but was it a desire to change your opinion on aliens as a whole and to show you that if he could get close to you then you'll see that not all aliens posed as threat.

that aliens and humans can live in harmony together.

but it wasn't looking like that at all the longer he looked at the collar at his feet.

"put it on or im putting a bullet into your fucking head." you spit at him, patience wearing thing.

"i highly doubt that's possible, yn— but i will surrender because i do not want to hurt you. any of you." he says softly while leaning downwards to pick up the collar.

the tip of sunghoon's gun and everyone else's follows his movement with stable precision and you all watch as he opens the latch and wraps the collar around his neck, closing it with a click. jay opens his mouth to speak but writhes in pain at the shock it sends across his body. you're pressing onto the controller, shifting the intensity to the highest point to incapacitate jay until he's crumbling to his knees, begging for you to stop.

you walk over to him and kneel downwards so you're closer to his level before shutting off the collar.

"yn— please.." he breathes out and you scoff at him.

"pleading won't get you anywhere." is all you say before walking away and heading over to sunghoon. telling him that you all need to leave before more aliens arrive and that backup should arrive shortly to close off the building for lock down.

"and director park? what do we do with him?" he asks.

"he's an alien. there's no more director park— bring him with us. when the enforcement alpha gets here i'll have him transported to another facility." you explain as jungwon and ni-ki grab jay by the arms and drag him behind you all.

"what are you going to do with him yn?" you can sense worry in sunghoon's voice and it irks you in the slightest way. you didn't understand why there was a weird tone in his voice that made you feel like you were acting irrationally when you felt like you could've acted worse than you did.

"what i do with all aliens. throw them into a cage and study them until i know how to break them down."

✶

jay's cell is hot.

it felt like his home planet and he hated it. he found his way to earth just to get away from the heat, to get away from his animalistic relatives, and yet here he was chained inside of a cell like he was a savage.

sweat dripped across his body as his muscles tenses against the chains. it shined like stars against his skin, sweat cascading across his muscles like a river through mountains.

it's been exactly three days since it all happened. since the outbreak at the facility, since he exposed himself to you, since you saw him as the monster you wanted to see him as.

he hated that this is how it resulted but he couldn't do anything about it. all he wanted was to learn, to be more like a human, and to jay, that was you. you weren't perfect. you were didn't know the right things to say, your emotions weren't complete and your mind was filled with more than it can hold.

that's what made you human.

but your reactions also proved your humanity.

you treated jay like a monster because all your life that's what you knew aliens to be.

monsters.

he just wishes he could've done more to show you that he wasn't violent. that he wasn't a monster and that he was telling the truth when he said he would never hurt you.

nothing rings truer than that.

jay is deep in thought when the sound of heels tapping against the pavement outside of his cell gets closer and closer. at first he doesn't look up but when he hears your voice he quickly snaps his head towards your direction.

"yn…" he whispers just loud enough for you to hear.

he wasn't expecting to see you so soon. he thought that you'd take some time away to process all of this but you were here now. standing in front of him, heels on your feet, glasses low on your nose, and hair sleeked back out of your face.

"this is dr. ln, the time is 7AM on february 23rd. this is the first recording with new alien species, identification to be determined. logging research now. subject is conscious in confinement and responding to my presence." your voice was robotic.

jay is slightly offended that you're treating this like any other day.

like he was just some alien that's been captured on a random thursday that's been presented to you to study.

"yn— can we please just talk?" jay's voice is hoarse and low. the lack of hydration paired with the blazing heat that's being blasted into his cell has left him drained.

"subject is speaking fluently like a human. most likely due to years of exposure and assimilation." you say while walking closer, before taking a seat on the floor just outside of his cell, the glass separating the two of you. you're parallel from jay who is slightly elevated into the air by his chains as you cross your legs on the floor.

"please. let's just talk." he says again.

"don't worry, jay. we'll talk—" you pause for a second to make sure the gadget on your wrist is recording your conversation.

"tell me everything. from the beginning til the day at the facility and don't leave anything out or else i won't hesitate to use this." you say while pulling a device out of your pocket. it was similar to the controller that you used to activate the shock collar he was wearing before, only now he wasn't wearing one.

"i'm sure you're wondering what this is for. so, let me show you."

and suddenly there's an intense pain shooting through jay's body that started from his arms that make his muscles spasm as electricity shoots throughout the chains that's holstered around him.

"not so fun is it? i hope you know that pain doesn't even compare to the pain that i've had to face as a young girl seeing my family torn apart in front of my very eyes." you finally turn the device off and the shock of the electricity disappears but the pain remains on jay's skin like a reminder of his betrayal.

"you wanted to talk. so talk. tell me everything."

and he does.

jay tells you every detail about his life. his species of alien. even details that weren't helpful like how he got his job or shows he watched to learn the language of the humans he was surrounded by.

he did all of that alone.

jay told you about how at a young age he learned how to pilot a spaceship that his species had from his home planet and how he escaped to earth with no idea what to do next. once every few years his species sent out groups of aliens to come down to earth and live amongst humans with no other reason aside from the fact that they were no longer of use to the aliens back home.

it was either they stayed on their home planet and got killed or they got sent to a different planet with nothing else. a lot of the time the aliens sent away ended up dying, others assimilated like jay. he hated it. he hated how aggressive his kind was and from a young age his parents saw this in him.

they hated him for it.

ostracized him. called him weak. useless. worthless.

he managed to sneak onto a ship being sent out one day and the rest was history.

the same night that jay landed on earth was the same night your family met their demise. you later learned that with more detail from jay's arrival to earth.

he told you more about his home planet. how it's temperatures were unmatched, growing even hotter than venus itself. he never called it home though. jay would refer to his home planet as 'ustrina' and corrected you when you called it his home.

"that's not my home. earth is my home, yn…" you'd just ignore it, move on after because you didn't have the energy to argue with him about whether or not earth was his home or not. jay told you that ustrina was naturally very hot and because of it, his alien species developed a hunting skill that made them excellent predators.

their sweat.

the sweat that comes out of their pore glands acted as a sort of aphrodisiac. it made those close enough to smell it be allured and fall into a trance like state, almost following the scent until their close enough for the predator to lunge— because his planet was so hot his kind was always sweating and the more they were sweating, the stronger their scent became.

you didn't even know this when you had jay thrown into a cell. you simply remembered the way he was so cold before that you assumed temperature had something to do with his species, you just weren't sure what. in hindsight it wasn't very helpful to keep him in a cell that was thousands of degrees high where he's practically swimming in his own sweat but he told you that the affects don't work on his kind.

it almost felt like he was suggesting that it would work on you.

not suggesting. telling.

he was telling you that a singular whiff of his scent would work on your. you'd easily be prey to him.

"— but i like to be cold. i don't like be hot and sweaty because i don't like the way it leaves people unable to act for themselves. i don't want them to feel like i'm manipulating or taking advantage of them— of you. that's why i had my office so cold and overtime i learned that when i'm around someone i can trust, my body naturally cools down."

his words remind you of one of your first times meeting. when you shook his hand, skin cold as ice, and how his office was freezing. there was rhyme to his reasoning and it irritated you that his icy skin was because he found comfort in you despite not knowing you at all.

"i knew the second i met you that i could trust you even if i didn't know who you were. i was able to naturally let my guard down around you, that's why i was so cold. yn i would never lie to you, please believe me.

if you turn off the heat in here and touch my skin, i promise you that i will instantly cool down. you have to trust me— please…"

he was pleading again and although you wanted to keep your composure and not listen to what he says, your vision began to blur and you slowly stood from your seat on the ground and walked over to the keypad to the side of the door that led to his cell.

you're about to scan your badge but suddenly your vision comes back and your mind is no longer fuzzy.

"what the fuck was that?" you asked, clearly aggravated.

"that's another one of our traits. i can control your mind in different ways… sometimes it feels like just a small nudge to encourage you to do something, other times i can leave you completely unconscious and take over your body if i wanted to…"

"you've done this before to me haven't you?" you began to recall all the other times you felt that similar sensation and they all involved jay. the time in his office when you came to grab your badge, the time in the facility when he willed you to stay hidden while he scouted the building for sunghoon; it was him.

he was controlling your mind and yet, you weren't upset.

you were intrigued.

"fascinating…"

in all of your years of studying aliens, none of them have ever shown any capabilities of mind control. it was usually more physical traits and intelligence but mind control? never. that was a new discovery that you've now just stumbled upon and this new information only fueled your curiosity.

"if i walk in there and you try to use that on me again— i'll fucking kill you."

"i won't! i promise i won't— yn– i.."

jay is cut off by the sound of beeping and suddenly the door to cell opens. the once blazing heat coming from the ceiling is gone and he can feel slight relief on his skin.

when you walk into the cell, the residual heat fills the air but you're more focused on the floral yet musky scent that fills your nose. it was pleasant in a disarming type of way and the closer you walked over to jay whose bent forward on his knees, arms raised behind him like wings held into the air by the chains, the scent smells sweeter and sweeter.

"touch me…" is all he says before your hand presses against his bare chest.

it's covered in his sweat and it instantly soaks your hand when you touch him. his skin is warm but almost instantly the heat is gone and his skin begins to feel like ice. you jump back at the sudden change and look over at jay who's looking at you with big pleading eyes, mouth parted in exhaustion while his tongue lulls past his lips in a thirsty desperation.

you place your hand on his chest again and you can see the way his muscles relax. his skin no longer bore a blushing red from the heat and returned to it's natural color. your mouth slowly parted at the sight of jay's body, toned and muscular in all of the right places but he also had valleys of soft and tender flesh that felt equally reliable to settle yourself against.

your tongue darts past your lips to wet your bottom lip, teeth slowly biting down on the flesh.

"jay…" you whisper and his gaze intensifies in a way he's never even felt before. like he was looking at you like his prey the way his nature intended yet he felt no urge to destroy you— violently that is.

"what is this feeling.." you say, breathing getting heavier as you kneel down in front of him, hand still pressed firmly against his sweaty chest. jay meets your eyes at a common level and your face is a lot closer to his than you've ever been. he can count the lashes on your feathery eyes, he can see the slight quiver in your lip, and can feel something radiating off of you that he's never felt from anyone else.

"it's me— you're being lured in by my swear you need to leave— no!" you interrupt jay and he's taken aback. he wasn't expecting you to want to stay so close to him but that's what his scent does. dulls your senses so that all you think about is the sweet smell that you don't want to pull away from.

"it's so—" you swallow momentarily.

"so sweet…" and before jay can respond you're bringing your face closer to his and lick a stripe of his cheek. his sweat coating your tongue as your eyes close in pleasure. "i was right…" you whisper while licking your lips as if you were trying to taste more of jay with whatever could've stuck to your mouth.

"yn— this is.. you have to go you can't think straight right now." you cut him off with a kiss, tasting his sweat that's pooled around his mouth as your tongue licks at his skin like it was the most delicious thing you've ever tasted.

jay whimpers into your mouth and pulls a moan out of you as you continue lapping at his skin. tongue gently swiping across his cheek, nose, slurping at the sweat on his forehead.

he tries to tell you that you're not acting of the right mind and he's met with your hooded gaze. "i want it, jay… but i'll stop if you want me to."

"i— jay's torn between wanting to continue feeling you against his body and the idea that your mind is only feeling this way because of his scent.

"are you sure? you know that you only feel like this because of my scent, right? without you wouldn't feel so inclined to do… to do all of this." he says referring to the way your arms have now wrapped itself loosely around his neck while you're practically pushing your hips against his. "trust me… i want nothing more than to feel you." you whisper, lips gently touching his before you kiss him again. this time jay kisses back— hard.

his mouth explores yours like untouched territory, tongue fighting for dominance as they graze over your teeth, sweat continues to drip across his skin and it feels your senses in a euphoric way that makes you desperate for something more filling.

"let me taste you— please. you've tasted me, now it's my turn." jay says into the kiss before he bites down onto your bottom lip, tugging on it in a silent dominant way.

your body naturally moves with ease as you pull down your pants, tossing them aside with your feet as you stand up, jay's face perfectly leveled with your pussy that's now began to soak the soft white cotton panties you're wearing.

"you want to taste me? so do it." you've barely finished your sentence before jay is pressing his face against your clothed pussy, licking and biting at the fabric to taste your juices through the fabric, ringing out your slickness with his tongue. "just like that— fuck." you moan out, eyes slowly fluttering shut and head lulling backwards.

jay's teeth tear through the fabric in a desperate motion and the air blows against your exposed pussy that covered in your slick, jay quickly brings his tongue forward to catch it before it drips onto the floor wastefully— although he'd probably be more than willing to lick the ground to taste you.

he's sloppy in the way he's got his tongue lapping at your folds, collecting your sweetness into the curvature of his tongue while his lips suck at you in an inhuman way. his alien physique proving to be beneficial in intercourse as he continues eating you out, starved and deprived.

you're the first thing jay has taste in three days and my god were you the best thing he's ever tasted.

"fuck— jay i'm– gonna cum!" you bite down on your lip to muffle your moans and even though jay's been living among humans for a long time now, sex has never interested him in this way until you. he was eager to make you cum like how it happens in the books he's read or the movies he's seen— even porn he's watched out of pure curiosity.

"cum for me please. please cum, yn— please." he's begging you to cum all over his face like he was the one being pleasured but the with the way his eyes close in pleasure while eating your soaked pussy, jay was fill with pleasure more than you think.

he quickens his pace, tongue almost growing in size as it pushes further inside of you while his nose pokes at your clit at just the right amount of pressure to pull you over the edge. your pussy clenches around jay's tongue and he can feel the way your pussy floods with your sweetness that he can't help but to slurp up even quicker than before.

you're spitting pleasure filled curses as you cum, hand now gripping his hair for stability as your knees get weak from your orgasm, almost buckling beneath you but you manage to hold yourself up.

"fuck— jay that was… wow" you're breathless as jay pulls away from your pussy even if he doesn't want to. long sticky webs forming as he gets further away, his chin is soaked in your cum and you notice that he's no longer sweaty but the feeling still remains on your mind. "yn… are you ok?" he asks quietly while looking up at you.

you're deep in thought when you realize something. your pants are tossed to the side, your panties are ripped, and a mixture of your cum and jay's sweat coats your thighs but there's one thing you've now realized— something you aren't sure you want to say out loud.

was this for science? was this because of jay's hypnotizing scent?

or was this you finding a reason to justify the fact that you wanted to jay?

whatever it was— you were going to have to do a lot of thinking before you told jay anything you just said in your head.

"i have to go— um…" you say, looking around for your pants.

your heels click clack against the floor as you run over to them, slipping them on and trying to make yourself look composed before having to go back out there.

"jay—" you clear your throat before continuing.

"don't tell anyone this happened.. ok?"

he nods slowly, "okay, yn. i won't."

jay thinks that's all you have to say as he watches you leave and lock the door behind you but you walk back towards him, pressing your hand to the glass as he looks at you with an expecting gaze.

"i won't turn the heat back and i'll lower the temperature in here. i don't know what i'm feeling right now but i can tell you one thing…" you pause and jay bites his lip in anticipation.

"i think i want you in ways that i shouldn't."

✶

over the course of the next seven days, you and jay spend a lot more time with each other. you've created a personal authorization with his cell, meaning that only you have access to it.

you put it all under the guise of research and that you were studying him— and you were, even if sunoo, or sunghoon, or jake said that you seemed to be less angry at him— you kept telling them that this was all purely for science and that they should worry more about their jobs rather than what you're doing.

you are studying jay but that didn't mean you had to continue harboring resentment to him.

it was weird— like always.

just a week before today, you were angry and wanted him dead but now… you've told things to jay you've never even uttered out loud before.

today was like any other day. you've now moved past the chains as you and jay sit together, tucked away into a corner of his cell, his arm around your shoulder as your rest yourself against him.

you provided him better clothes and an even better atmosphere in his confinement. you did however, still had to chain him up after each meeting because you didn't want anyone to grow suspicious even if your friends were already questioning you.

"your skin is so soft…" jay mutters before pressing a kiss on your crown.

"it's called moisturizer, ever heard of it?" you tease and the two of you share a laugh. "alright, i may be an alien but i have lived on earth for long enough… i'm just saying it's so— so so so soft" he says, peppering kisses across your knuckles. it makes you giggle at how domestic it all felt. how just almost two months ago you wanted nothing to do with jay and now here you are, breaking a code of conduct with your job as your feelings begin to bloom for the alien you wanted dead before.

sometimes you still teased jay about it. calling him little nicknames like "my alien" and what not and he pretended to hate it but he secretly loved the way it made his heart pick up in speed.

only you can do that. only you could make him feel this way and he knew now that feeling he felt when he first saw you, that unidentified bond and attraction he never said out loud, the way you felt so comfortable with in such a short amount of time— it's because of this. the fact that you're a human learning about aliens and he's an alien learning about humans, it creates the perfect opportunity of two hearts coming to one.

that neither of you are perfect beings yet you learn about what perfection is and the scale of perfection that's gauged by the humanity that jay can learn from you and the humanity you can find in yourself because of jay.

jay watches as your hand moves towards your face, your gentle finger pushing your glasses up onto your face, and then back towards his hand to lace them together.

"i really like your glasses— they're… pretty." his voice is gentle like he was almost afraid to compliment you. "my glasses?" you ask slightly confused. you've never been complimented on them before so it was a bit surprising especially since they were simple wire rimmed glasses, nothing special.

"yeah— they're pretty like you. they capture your eyes really nicely like a framed picture."

you turn towards jay with a touched expression on your face, bottom lip slightly jutting forward. "that's.. that's so sweet, jay.." you say before placing a kiss onto his cheek and you can see the way it makes him blush.

jay smiles at you and suddenly your glasses are being snatched off of your face, his long tentacles taking them hostage as he pulls them away. "hey— jay, come on." you whine as you try to reach for them and he tauntingly moves it away just before you can grab it. "gotta try harder than that, dr. ln." he teases and you scoff at him.

"seriously?" you ask and he shrugs, sliding out and creating distance between the two of you. you try to chase after him but he's just too quick and his tentacles are way too long as they stretch upwards, bringing your glasses all the way up to the ceiling where you definitely cannot reach.

"that's not fair!" you huff with a pout and he eventually gives in, bringing his tentacle back down so he can return your glasses to you but before he can you're pouncing on top of him, the two of you falling backwards as jay uses his tentacles to break the fall.

"okay— THAT was unfair." he says, referring to you jumping on him while he's not paying attention, ultimately catching him off guard. his tentacle returns your glasses onto your face, the tip of the fleshy muscle pushing them up comfortably and you smile before muttering a thank you. "can i ask you something…" he says quietly, a bit timid.

you nod in response and he takes a minute to ask but something tells you that you already know where this was going as you can feel the hardness growing beneath you, his crotch pressed up against your abdomen.

"can— can i feel you?" jay asks, stuttering over his shyness but you found it endearing.

"feel me? in what way?"

"like— like how i tasted you before. i want you to taste me but—" he pauses and you smile at him with nothing but adoration in your eyes. "do you want me to suck you off, jay?"

"when you say it like that it sounds so vulgar.." he grumbles and looks away, making you laugh at his semi-prude behavior. "well that's exactly what you're asking for— except this time no mind control, no aphrodisiac sweat— do you want me to?" you ask and he turns back towards you.

"none of that. i want it but only if you want it. i don't want anything interfering with your perception. i shouldn't have ever let it get that far at first— i'm sorry."

you grab his face tenderly and place a kiss on his lips, "it's okay— as angry as i was at you before, deep down i wanted it just as bad." you slide across his body, hands trailing across his chest and stomach. his eyes hold your gaze as your face stops just above the waistband of his soft linen pants. "please don't make me wait…" he breathes out.

your fingers loop his waistband as you pull them down and just like you expected, he's hard.

jay's cock is one you've never seen before— even in your field of work where you examine alien bodies, none of them have ever had a member like jay's his cock was large— insanely big; it bulged in different areas, curved with thickness that pointed with a bulbous tip that was leaking with something just as sweet as his sweat.

"fuck—" you mutter and it makes jay panic.

"you don't have to if you don't want to! i'm so sorry— i'm being so selfish, i'm sorry." he says while scrambling to pull his pants back up but you reassure him that you want this and the sight of his massive alien cock makes you want him even more.

your mouth waters at him and the way you can see his member throb.

"i don't even know if this could fit…"

he looks at you bashfully like he's embarrassed by his large cock but you were just so amazed by it. "you'll make it fit, right?" jay says, voice low with fervor.

you nod at him as you begin to lick his tip. jay hisses at the contact of your warm tongue creating wetness around his cock with just a few licks. "shit—" he cusses as his hands form into fists. you try to work your throat open when you wrap your lips around his cock, you're only able to fit 1/5 of jay inside your mouth at first.

saliva drips from the sides of your mouth and coats jay's cock as you bob your head up and down, trying your best for him to fit more and more of his cock inside of your pretty mouth but he's just utterly too big for you— it makes you even think about how he'll fit if you eventually decide to have sex.

"that feels amazing— yn fuck!" he moans, punching the ground in pleasure.

"this is the best i've ever felt— please don't stop— shit! keep going, baby" you've never heard him this vulgar before especially considering how shy he was being just a moment ago. "i'm gonna push more inside, okay baby?" he says, raising his brows at you before his tentacle wraps around your head, from crown to chin; while another tentacle holds back the hair that's fallen loose from the way you're sucking him off with determination.

jay can feel his cock go deeper into your throat, stretching you open that you've managed to get just about half of him now inside of your mouth. he feels like he's in heaven and a sense of pride fills him when he hears the way you're whimpering and moaning against his cock, vibrations adding to the pleasure he's feeling.

the way your spit has moved past drooling and basically flooding out of your mouth, coating your chin and his thighs in soft white bubbles.

"i could die happy like this— fuck baby. you're perfect— so so perfect. doing so good taking that cock. you like it don't you, pretty?" he asks and uses his tentacles to nod for you as you're too occupied taking him into your mouth. jay's even more impressed by the way you've managed to breathe through your nose and not once asked to come up for air, it just makes him even harder.

something that he didn't mention was the fact that intense moments of pleasure— like right now; would make his cock grow. not only that, but his alien species cums. a lot.

so when jay starts singing pleasures and moans from delight, his cock grows inside of your mouth like no other. like a water balloon that's ready to burst from inflating too large, the sensation of his cum fills your throat like an endless waterfall.

hot, sticky, gooey, bioluminescent cum fills your mouth. you try to swallow it and to no surprise— it's sweet like everything about jay but it proves to be all too much as your eyes begin to water, patting his leg with urgency so he can let you go and he instantly does. even through his pleasure filled daze, he's attentive to your needs.

when you pull jay's cock out of your mouth he's still cumming. the hot glowing liquid squirts everywhere, majority landing onto your glasses that become sticky with his essence, decorating it like melting wax. there's puddles of his cum on the ground as they drip from your chin, your cheeks, forehead— everywhere.

his cum is almost never ending and because you want to show jay you're serious about him the way he is about you, you lick up the cum that's pooled around his thighs and stomach, lapping at it like a little kitty drinking milk.

jay's eyes are half lidded, mouth agape with heavy breaths as he looks down at you, face practically covered in his honey like cum. he tries his best to not let the sight of you covered in his essence make him harder but the way you're looking up at him through the small gaps in your glasses that aren't covered in cum just turns him on to no end— more cum shoots out of his tip that's now glowing with slickness and throbbing more than before.

"fuck me— i've never seen that much cum before.." you're breathless like jay is, your breathes matching in unison.

"i– well i don't think i've ever cum that much before." you giggle at his confession, licking another stripe along the underside of his cock from his balls to the tip, he shivers at the sensation and more cum dribbles out from his cock and perfectly lands on your tongue.

"we should probably get you cleaned up—" jay pauses for a second as his tentacles fully retract back into his body. "as much as i like seeing you like this; i don't think i can hold back if we keep going."

you ponder on what jay just said. 'keep going'

there's a sense of relief inside of you when you realize that he was thinking the same thing. he wanted it just as bad that's no denying and the fact that you want to keep going but know that you shouldn't says something about how you feel about one another. there's clearly something more between you two and that was enough to allow you to say the following words.

"we'll get there eventually. just not here— i know i'm the one that got you inside of this cage and i'll be the one to get you out." you pause for a second to adjust your glasses and it makes jay smile. your pretty glasses on your pretty face— maybe even prettier with the way his cum drips off of you.

"i promise, jay."

✶

the next day as jay sat in his cell, arms strung up by chains and back sore from the uncomfortable position he's been in for hours, he's still got a simmering smile on his lips as he waits for the hour that you arrive. he's been keeping track of the time in his head and at the hour on the hour, you arrive just when he's expecting you.

except now, you're not alone.

when jay raises his head to meet your figure walking down the long path to get to his cage, his smile fades when he sees you accompanied by two other people. officer sunghoon and commander lee heeseung who he hasn't seen in ages— way before he even switched over to this facility.

jay's never liked commander lee, he was abrasive, blunt, spoke with a condescending tone, and never took anyone seriously. heeseung thought he was way above everyone else and to him, he didn't care if it rubbed people the wrong way.

he knew he was smart, strong, and his role as a commander definitely went to his head.

you've only spoken to him a few times— met him once outside of right now, and like jay, you weren't a fan of heeseung. you shared the same opinion as jay without even knowing his own dislike for your boss. heeseung was the head of the alien studies program and although he appreciated a lot of your ideas and typically supported everything you wanted to do with your studies on alien species— you just couldn't ignore his brash attitude and unlikable demeanor.

"park jongseong— how disappointing to see such a gift mind like yours be contained like this." heeseung says, crossing his arms as he stares at jay through the glass. jay's glaring him down as you stand behind heeseung, sunghoon to the other side of the commander. you're looking at jay from the side with sympathetic eyes, your heart aches at the position he's in right now— because of you.

you didn't expect yourself to feel this way about jay, especially after everything and yet after spending a few days with him and learning everything about one another, you're more than willing to turn your back on the humans who have helped you fuel your hatred for aliens for the one alien wh has changed your mind on everything you thought you knew.

"commander lee.." jay says through gritted teeth, he hasn't looked at you once and he knows it should stay that way. he's afraid if he looks at you even the slightest that his face will give it away that the two of you have something you shouldn't. afraid that if he looks at your face, heeseung will see how his eyes will soften when looking at you which would put the two of you in a compromising position.

"doctor. ln; you said the alien has exhibited violent behavior and needs to be extracted correct?" heeseung asks, barely turning his head towards you, jay's eyes following even if he tries not to. he watches as your face sharpens at the way heeseung calls your name and you just give him a singular nod, eyes devoid of emotion. jay feels an ache in his chest when he sees how cold you are. "sunghoon—" heeseung says.

"prepare for the alien's transportation. we're moving him to the category 5 unit bunker."

that bunker was where they put alien's deemed to dangerous to society but aren't necessarily useless. they leave aliens down there until they need to be studied again or used in some sort of manipulative way like extracting their dna for scientific progression or using them as members of a task force of some kind.

"wh– what? why are you taking me there? yn? tell me that's not true!" jay's got no idea what's happening when a group of enforcement officers file into the room in a single line, guns tucked into their arms while sunghoon scans his badge to get access into the cell. jay's still calling for you, asking for you to explain and why you're doing this to him— heartbroken over seeing you not even bat an eyelash as sunghoon activates the electricity in the chains that's wrapped around him.

bolts of electricity shocking into his body until he's incapacitated enough to no longer speak, only able to watch as his eyes get blurry while watching your figure get smaller and smaller with commander lee at your side. you're trying your best to remain stoic like hearing jay's pained groans and pleads isn't shattering your heart, but because commander lee is right at your side, you can't do anything about it.

"great work doctor. ln. your contributions to the alien division are greatly appreciated, i'll be sure to tell the higher ups of everything you've done. at this rate you'll move up in ranks and be able to do what i do for mankind.

talk soon."

that's all heeseung says before he gives you an unwelcome pat on the shoulder that you try not to scoff at, watching him leave with a fake smile that you finally drop when he's no longer in view.

you wanted to turn around and run back inside of jay's cell block but you know that wasn't a good idea. you just wish that he won't hate you after this.

inside his cell, sunghoon's got a relentless grip on the controller that activates the electricity, jay who is strong tries his best to bare the pain of the shock but eventually his body just falls limp, eyes barely open. sunghoon finally turns it off and walks over to jay, crouching down to his level and whispering something into his ear.

"i'm going to give you something— grab it with your tentacle while no one's looking. it's on your back." he gives jay a harsh slap on the back that he disguises as 'punishment' for speaking back, trying to remain like a hard ass in front of the enforcement squad. jay's barely conscious when sunghoon tells him all of this but he manages to subtly grab the slip of paper that's stuck to his back, sliding it into his body where his tentacles reside just as he falls unconscious.

the last thing he hears is sunghoon shouting commands to grab the high grade cuffs and confinement tools to prepare jay for extraction.

✶

jay wakes up when the truck that he's in drives over a bump in the road, jolting him awake when his body shakes and thuds against the walls of the truck. he's got a state of the art biotech cuffs locked around his wrists, a shock collar on his neck, and electroshock braces strapped to his chest— the works.

all commands from you to make it seem like jay was the dangerous and unhinged alien monster that you've told heeseung he is.

except you aren't— you were wrong. jay's the furthest from a monster and you knew that now. it's why you were doing all of this in the first place. with trust placed into your friends, sunghoon, sunoo, and jake; they all took part in helping you break jay out of his cell.

sunghoon was the main person in this plan who helped you— sunoo and jake were just in on it just in case something were to happen. you trusted all of them and they could all see the way you spoke about jay and the emotion behind your eyes; they had never seen you this serious about anything aside from aliens and right now, there was one alien that needed helping.

jay.

you devised a plan with sunghoon that you knew would work without fail. why? because you came up with it after all. you would call commander lee with a request to extract and transfer jay to a different facility under sunghoon's supervision; during the transfer the truck would get 'attacked' and amongst the chaos, jay will escape.

sure— it paints jay as an escaped fugitive and would probably get him labeled as a category s, high risk danger alien on the loose; but it meant that he wasn't going to be confined anymore. you're the reason he was there and you were going to get him out even if it meant breaking several laws and putting multiple people's jobs at risk— sunoo said it himself when he say the way you talked about jay.

"it's all in the name of love."

so when jay blinks the blurriness away from his eyes and sees where he is, all he believes is that you've turned your back to him— completely forgetting about the note that sunghoon slipped into his tentacles before all of this, all jay could think about was the coldness in your eyes as you walked away from him like before; not recognizing how you're trying to hold it altogether.

"you good?" jay didn't even realize sunghoon was sitting next to him, black tactile suit on with a weapon strapped to his body. sunghoon's face was blank as he looked at the man he once respected— maybe still do; just a bit less perhaps. "sunghoon…" jay pauses for a beat before continuing, swallowing the dryness in his throat.

"you've got to listen to me— yn and i we're… she's— this is all a misunderstanding. please just let me talk to her."

"you don't have to worry, jay. you'll get to talk to her in just a few hours." sunghoon speaks in a hushed whisper and jay doesn't quite understand why until the younger of the two is leaning forward. "i'm going to 'accidentally' let go of your restraints and you're going to get the fuck out of here. use the note i left you to find yn. don't look back, don't think twice— just go." and with that jay hears a few clicks and beeps and his restraints come undone and fall off of his body.

"subject is lose!" sunghoon suddenly shouts and the officers at the front of the truck can be heard shouting back— the truck coming to a halt. sunghoon gives him a nod, letting him know that it's okay and if he needed to use force against him, then do it. "just don't fuck this up. she's waiting for you— and mind my face, ok? sunoo'll get upset if you leave a scar."

jay chuckles for a second before his tentacle cracks from his spine and it lashes towards sunghoon, trying his best to make it believable that he knocked him out while the doors to the back of the truck fly open, revealing three guards with weapons already pointed at jay. he's got no choice but to protect himself and just like he does with sunghoon, he uses his tentacles to hit them only hard enough to knock them out and not do any major damage.

he quickly scrambles out of the truck but not before turning around and looking at sunghoon who is watching him, "thank you" jay says and sunghoon shakes his head at him.

"what did i say? don't look back— go!" sunghoon says through an aggravated whisper and watches as jay smirks at his friend and dashes away, using his tentacles to reach for branches and swing from tree to tree until he's far enough into the forest that surrounded the city to take a break and gather his bearings.

"this is officer park— the alien escaped and is on the run. i've got no idea where he's headed, three other officers are currently unconscious; notify doctor ln and send in medical backup. over."

sunghoon's transmitter crackles momentarily before a voice on the other side confirms his request and he's left to do nothing but wait and hope that this plan of yours doesn't come back to bite any of you in the ass.

✶

when jay finally feels he's far enough into the dense forest to take a break, he's breathless. he doesn't know how long he's been swinging amongst the trees and running from nothing. he doesn't even know if he's being chased after, he's just listening to what sunghoon said and getting out of there before something could happen.

he finds a small clearing in the trees where he sees a tree that's fallen to the ground, using it as a place to rest for just a moment— just to catch his breath and think of what to do, like what you would. you've always came up with great plans and he admired that about you, you're intelligent in ways that surprised him even if he came from a planet with technology and knowledge far superior to humans.

and that's when he remembers the note.

the skin on his back crack open and one of his tentacles wraps forward with the note at the tip of the flesh. it's folded neatly with just a few stains from his body's essence and when he opens it, he realizes it's a letter from you.

it reads:

to jay,

if you're reading this letter it means that i've turned you in once again— but this time it's within reason outside of my disdain for aliens.

it's because of you and doing what's right. in the time that i've known you, i've learned more about myself than i have ever learned in the years that i've been alive. i thought i knew everything and because i was constantly searching for answers in the aliens that i studied, i thought that i was untouchable in ways that no one would understand.

but you did.

you barely knew me and yet it felt like you knew exactly who i was as a person. you never judged me for being a flawed human when i so harshly treated you like a monster for something you had no control over— and for that i'm sorry.

right now, as you're reading this that means that my plan to get you out of confinement is working. sunghoon must've told you everything you needed to know about what's going; i worked with him, sunoo, and jake to get you out. they're my friends and i trust them like i trust you— they thought i was crazy for all of this but i guess at the end of the day they believed me enough to help.

this was the only way i could see you getting out of the cell. i would request for you to be transferred to a different facility and during that time you and sunghoon would stage the whole thing like you miraculously broke out but it would just be sunghoon letting you free.

i've attached where you can find me at the bottom of this letter and i'm sorry for keeping you in the dark with all of this, it's already been hard enough to think about and i just know it'll be even more difficult seeing your face when you hear about everything. i wanted to have you in on the plan but i didn't want to risk anything especially with commander lee present— i'm sorry and i hope that you can find it in yourself to forgive me when we're together again.

you can find me at these coordinates: 47.606° N, 122.332° W or 47°39' N, 122°18' W

i'll be waiting for you.

sincerely and apologetically yours, doctor ln.

the letter ends with a faint pink kiss mark, jay's thumb hovers over and he can feel his heart begin to beat faster just at the thought of finally having you without constraint or laws. he memorizes the coordinates and brings the letter close to his chest, closing his eyes and steadies his breath before his tentacles reappear and he's quickly making time to head to wherever you're waiting for him.

"i'll be there soon. thank you for waiting for me." he mutters to himself as the wind flies past his skin, blowing through the air as he clears the forest and eventually makes his way through the city, using the darkness of the night and shadows to remain hidden, afraid that by now there must be a warrant for his arrest and an ongoing search to capture him.

✶

you're sitting on your couch in the living room with your knees tucked close to your body as you watch the news, they've already sent out a nationwide alert of him escaping and he's being treated like a monster and it was all your fault. you couldn't imagine how he must be feeling and it was starting to fuck with your head how bad a person you must be compared to jay, an alien who you previously called a monster and now everyone would be calling him one too.

except jay didn't care.

he couldn't give any less of a fuck of what others thought about him when he's tried so hard to bare himself to you. he knows you feel remorseful but right now all you can feel is pain. hurting from the fact that you hurt him in ways that he never would've done to you— that you were more of a monster than you are human.

your eyes are trained on the screen in front of you as the clueless news reporter calls jay inaccurate words, describing him as vile, dangerous, and a flesh eating monster when he's been nothing but gentle to you. you've seen humans— kids– much more violent than jay is. you feel your eyes begin to water when a shadow dashes past your window.

the tears in your eyes suddenly dry up as you begin to wonder if what you just saw was a figure of your imagination or something lurking in the shadows outside of your home.

you get up to check it out, slowly walking towards the window you saw the movement and sure enough, there's another shadow that moves quickly past the glass. you gasp, stepping back in shock, almost running into your dining table but when the shadow reappears and stands right in front of you, on the opposite side of the glass it reminds you of just how you and jay were the first day of his confinement.

each of you on opposite ends of the glass, one looking in the other looking out; yet you both still felt the connection that was developing between denial of the truth and wanting to remain loyal to the nature you understand but ultimately choosing love over law.

when the shadow lurks forward, the moonlight shines just enough across his face to reveal jay with tired eyes and craved lips. "yn— please let me in." he didn't even need to ask before you're sliding your window open and helping him inside, not a care in the world for the dirt he tracks into your home or the fact that he looks like he's been through hell.

"jay—" he cuts you off with a kiss, hands cupping your face in a desperate act to hold you close like you'd be gone if he didn't do it in that exact second. the kiss isn't any like you've shared before. it's passionate and laced with a spirited type of devotion that you've never bore into anyone you knew.

jay kissed you like it was his last, tongue against flesh, teeth pressed against teeth, and breath so close they'd become one.

"i fucking missed you—" jay says in between kisses, tongue darting forward to twist with yours and you can feel the way his tongue grows in length, almost falling into the your throat and traveling down your esophagus. your fingers fisted the thin shirt he's wearing that's now covered in dirt and sweat— his sweet sweet scent that you've grown addicted to but you wanted jay in so many different ways that you didn't even need his scent or his mind control to act.

this was all your own doing. your own will. your own mind.

jay doesn't let go of your face even when he pulls away from the kiss, both your lips a tad swollen and covered in each other's spit. "i'm so sorry, jay. i'm sorry for all i did to you i—"

"hey.. hey… it's okay. it's okay." he hushes you with a hug, pulling you into his big arms and resting your face against his chest like his body was armor to protect you. he whispers in your ear everything you need to hear while rubbing your back, soothing the hurricane of worry and doubt in your head.

"there's nothing to be sorry for. i've forgiven you before you even apologized. you didn't even need to, i know how you must be feeling and i hold nothing against you. i promise, baby. you're good. i'm good. we're good. okay?" he says, grabbing your face gently again to make you look up at him, round glassy eyes that he just loves so much— even without your glasses.

"okay?" he asks again and you finally nod, reaching upward to kiss him again.

"can— can i make love to you, yn?"

you pause when he asks you. even now— even when he's just run from his captors and into your arms, the person who is responsible and the very reason why he's on the run in the first place, he's put you first, asking to make love to you in the gentlest voice and kindest eyes. even now, he wants you despite how you've treated him but that's because jay can see the humanity in your eyes.

not the kind of humanity that made you hateful and violent towards alien, but the kind of humanity that's rooted in empathy and guilt that makes one want to become better for someone else— then for yourself.

"yes."

the simple three letter word falls from your lips like an anchor and it drags your faces together again, lips locking in a heated kiss that moves the two of you in a stumble towards your bedroom, knocking over paintings and framed pictures off the walls; bedroom door slamming open as you fumble with the doorknob and eventually, your back lands softly on your mattress with jay on top of you with nothing but unadulterated lust in his eyes.

a whiny gasp leaves your lips when you fall onto your bed, jay takes in the way you're laid out underneath him, he's breathing with his lips pulled apart like he can't breathe unless you're pressed against his mouth, tongue on skin, muscles against flesh.

jay tears at your clothes easily, ripping the silk fabric with swiftness and hunger, quick to get rid of the fragile barrier of your body and his possession on your skin. "mine. mine. mine. mine." he says in between placing kisses from the center of your chest and down your stomach.

small wet kisses trail down your body as jay stops just above your pussy, the fabric of your soft pink underwear already soaking at the touch of jay's mouth against your body. "so wet for me, aren't you? bet you want me to eat you up, huh?" jay asks teasingly, slightly biting into the flesh of your thighs, earning him a whimper and a slight nudge of your hand as you play with his hair.

"jay– don't tease me please." you whine and he laughs at how desperate you are even if he hasn't done much. "don't worry baby, i'll give it all to you but right now, i want to try something, you trust me right?"

you nod rapidly, biting down on your lip; "words baby."

"yes, jay. i trust you just — please do something." you're bucking your hips upwards in an attempt to feel anything aside from his warmth breath on your sensitivity. you can hear the way his back splits open and a singular tentacle— long, thick, and covered in his essence stretches from behind and slowly slithers along your body.

jay uses his tentacle to massage your tits, covering them in a thick goo-like substance before it tugs your panties down, your hips instinctually raising so it's easier to remove them. he crawls over your body, stopping right when his crotch is hovered over your face and before you can let out another whine, jay's tentacle flexes at your folds, the squishy yet firm tip prodding at your pussy before it pushes inside of you, stretching you open as it gets thicker the further it goes down from the tip.

"fuck— jay fuck fuck fuck" is all you can say as his tentacle pushes deeper and deeper. the way you're getting wet allows for him to get inside of you with ease, sopping wet sounds fill the room partnered with your foul curses as jay uses his tentacle to fuck you. "you like that? such a filthy mouth— have i ever told you that?" jay asks, tilting his head mockingly.

you can't even respond because jay's pressing his aching cock against your lips, asking for entry. "let me in baby— let me in that filthy mouth of yours." your lips pull apart to take him inside of you, tears pooling at your lashes as jay fucks into your mouth, nose pressed against his skin.

"god– you're fuckin filthy. always saying so much with that pretty mouth of yours; finally got you to shut up with a cock in your mouth, huh?"

you don't know where this attitude of jay's came from but by the way your clenching around his tentacles and your back is arching, you both can tell it's making you feel real real good.

"yeah, baby— just like that. got you so fucking stuffed, don't i?"

jay pulls his cock out of your mouth, you're gasping for air as he leans down to your face, grabbing you by the hair and pressing your lips together in a sloppy and spit filled kiss. "m'close jay.." you whimper against his mouth and he smiles into the kiss.

"cum for me, baby. want you to soak me again, i've missed it." he says before crouching over and placing his face at your pussy, replacing his tentacle with his tongue, lapping and sucking at your pussy that's been stretched wide for him. jay hooks his arms underneath your thighs to pull you closer to him while his tentacle finds your neck, squeezing lightly; the other massaging your breasts— putting you into a position that's got your body restrained by his in a pleasure filled disposition.

your pussy clenches around and you're barely able to moan out his name because of the tentacle wrapped your throat as you cum, juices squirting over jay's face as he drinks up every ounce like it's water from the fountain of youth. "pussy tastes so good— could eat you for hours– fuck." jay groans against your pussy, stickiness pressed against his face as he goes back in for more.

jay's long tongue stretches out of his mouth as he licks your cum off of his face, once again crawling over your shaking body as he stops when his face is just above yours. "i'm gonna fuck this pussy full— you think you can take that, baby?" you reach forward and pull his face down into a kiss, you can taste yourself on his tongue and it drives the two of you insane. "jay?" you ask, breath heavy.

"yes, baby?"

"have you ever fucked yourself?"

jay blinks at you, unsure if he heard you right. "wh– what?" he asks.

"the way you fucked me just now with your tentacle— have you ever done that to yourself?"

"i don't think i can say i have– why? do you want me to?"

you nod shyly, "fuck me with your cock while you fuck yourself— we'll be tied up like we're one." you whisper such nasty things in such a sweet tone that jay finds himself getting excited, cock growing and growing inside of his pants that it's begun to poke out of the waistband.

"i've never done that before but for you? i'll do anything, baby." he says, placing another kiss on your lips before removing his own clothes. he's situated on top of you but you stop him just as he's positioning his cock at your entrance.

"what's wrong?" he asks.

"i want to ride you— you'll fit inside me better if i ride you; i want to feel all of you."

fuck. you're going to be the death of him.

jay's tentacles wrap around the two of you, flipping you both over with swiftness with you now straddling his hips, your pussy soaking his cock as they rub against each other. jay's got his knees propped up as you hover above him, grabbing his massive cock that needs more than your own two hands to even wrap around it. his cock is huge in an unserious way, comically large that it leaves you laughing at it's size being so unreal yet intimidating.

"just ease onto it, baby. it's my first time too— we're in this together." jay says, referring to your first time fucking an alien and when you push the tip of his cock slightly into your folds, the stretch from before allows you to slide down just enough— about a third of the way before you find yourself grabbing on his knees for support.

his tentacles grab hold of your waist and arms, securely holding you above him so that you won't have to do too much of the work and after some encouraging words that jay coos at you with swollen lips and his tentacle padding at your clit, you finally feel the way the thick base of his cock leaves you gaping and stretched open— taking all of jay's cock inside you to the point the silhouette of his cock is very apparent against your stomach.

"shit— that's me right there." jay says while using his hand to trail the outline of his cock inside of you. "i— i don't think i can move."

"it's okay, baby. let's— let's do what you said, hmm?"

one of jay's tentacles moves towards the softness of his ass and he hesitates for a moment, looking over at you for reassurance and you nod at him with half lidded eyes, your bottom lip in between your teeth in a quiet excitement; jay's cock still buried deep inside of your cunt that you swear you can feel him near your heart.

jay slowly pushes his tentacle into his ass, his hole stretching open slowly like he did to you and he can't lie and say it felt bad because the way his eyes rolled backwards and a whimper left his lips the more he felt his tentacle go deeper inside of him the more he became a moaning mess.

"feel good, jay?" you ask and he's whimpering and moaning like no other, body vibrating so much that you can feel the way his muscles are contracting inside of you— hips rutting into your pussy, digging into your guts in a routine motion of jay's hips moving so that he can fuck you and himself at the same time— an overwhelming pleasure that neither of you want to end.

"so— so fucking good, baby."

jay's got you elevated into the air, the one wrapped around your waist moving you up and down on his cock with ease as he bucks his hips, wet noises filling the space as he fucks you and himself like a cycle. you're both clenching, holes wet and sopping; moaning each other's name like gospel and prayers.

"fucking nasty for me— fucking yourself while you fuck me 'cause you like me so much don't you? so. fucking. nasty." you say with each of jay's thrusts as your bodies fight for control over the other.

he's got another tentacle that slithers across your body before it wraps itself around your neck, tip opening your mouth to fill your holes in a possessive way where jay wants you to be filled with nothing but him.

you're barely able to breathe as jay's in absolution— face filled with bliss and pleasure as his eyes lock yours, hips moving faster and faster as he pounds into you from below, tip of his cock pushing at your insides to make room for him like he was going to find permanent residence inside of you.

"feel s'good jay— don't stop please don't stop." you manage to mumble past the grip of his tentacle around your neck, back arching as your hips ass bounces on jay as he uses his tentacles to fuck you like some sex toy he can just manhandle into any position to fuck you as much as he wants.

jay can feel you clenching around him and it drives him over the edge— "shit– don't do that you're gonna make me cum— fuck!"

"cum– cum in me jay. please i need it— i want you to fill me please please."

his incredible physique helps in the way he's fucking you faster and faster, the two of you now too fucked out to even say any words— just gasps, whiny moans, and broken whimpers blend together as your bodies move in concert.

jay's cock grows and throbs inside of you as he pumps his cum deep inside of you, painting your insides with his sticky and glowing cum, rutting and knotting your pussy so that he can make sure he fucks his cum so deep that you'll be leaking for hours and feel the indent of his cock inside you for days.

"fuuuck" you both huff as he presses you firmly against himself, skin to skin as he pumps his cum into you in an never ending stream that begins to cream at the base of his cock, spurting from your pussy and bubbling at your thighs the more he fucks into you.

the two of you come down from your high even if neither of you want to. breathing in unison as your chest falls and rises together— skin damp in sweat with jay's scent filling your nose in an addictive nature. his tentacles finally let go of you and you fall forward and onto jay's chest, he catches you with secure arms; hugging you like a quiet celebration. "did so good, baby. good job." he says, brushing your hair and pressing a kiss on your temple.

"did you like it, jay?" you ask, referring to jay doing anal on himself with his own tentacle and he's been in so much lustful pleasure that he's forgotten about the way his ass is filled with himself. he moans in your ear as he pulls out, the empty feeling leaving him wanting more and expecting more in the future. "i loved it, baby— you're so fucking filthy; i love it."

you can feel the way his cum leaks out of you, sheets soaked and coating the both of your legs. "should we clean up?" jay suggests and he feels you shake your head against his bare chest. "no— let's just sleep… i don't want to let you go." you're so soft for him, body pressed and molded to his as he hugs you closer to his body— "i won't let go. never."

✶

the next morning when you wake up with your face pressed against jay's chest and the blanket pulled over your bodies, the sun lightly beaming through the blinds, you feel like nothing could be better than this.

"you awake?" jay asks, yawning and blinking at the light in his face.

you hum in response as the two of you sit up against your headboard, blanket clinging to your bodies. "you feeling alright?" and before you can even answer everything else comes flooding inside of your brain— the momentary bliss of laying in silence in jay's arms cracks when you think about how you got here in the first place.

"hey— hey, what's wrong?" he asks, reaching forward and grabbing your hands, massaging them. "i just— what are we going to do now? you're wanted and i'm scared they're going to take you away from— jay i can't let that happen. i won't."

"it's okay— i'm not leaving i promise. i won't leave you i won't let them take me away. they can try all the want but nothing is tearing us apart. i'll spill blood if i have to."

there's a moment in everyone's relationship where something happens that compares to an attempt of saying "i love you" when you know it's too early to say it. some couples will show this type of devotion in physical actions, heartfelt words, or meaningful moments— for you and jay it was just a bit different.

you both know that love lies between the two of you for longer than you may've known but when you chose to turn your back against everything you knew about yourself and chose an alien over humanity in a flawed type of fashion that contradicts the law you raised yourself in and when jay told you that he would kill and spill blood in order to keep the two of you together when he said himself that he hated his species natural violent ways, there was a silent agreement that this was the way you both showed love to each other.

"can i ask you something, jay?" you say, looking down at your hands, jay's thumb rubbing calming circles on your knuckles. "anything."

"why don't you hate me?"

jay wasn't expecting that but he knew the answer right away.

he smiles at you tenderly as he looks at the small pout on your lips. "because you're not someone to be hated. you're you— unapologetically and that's what i like about you. i could never hate you for anything because you taught me humanity even if you didn't know it."

"but i'm a terrible person— i treated you so terribly, you should hate me"

"but i don't. i told you you're not someone to be hated, you're someone to be loved despite what flaws you think you have. i want to show you how i've learned to love because i knew you and—" he pauses for a second as your eyes meet together.

"i just want you to like me— regardless of who i am."

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ❤︎ @pagemiah @jiiyen @jnysaln @xh01bri @rairaiblog @laurradoesloveu @firstclassjaylee @kristynaaah @17ericas @heeseung64 @leipforggy @s1rawb3rry @ddeonuswife @orxngebloods @xylatox @saccharinezennie @yooonjnng @lookingforsnacks @smollbean42905 @intromortal @taesnumber1 @noirxraa @ikeu05 @delma-x @ardlolic @softblaqn @seungsoftly @vatterie @dr1diot

© hoonieyun all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

[hoonieangel]

love

[si3rren-deactivated20260204]

hi its me can i request a fic where reader edges jake😫 random idea i got in middle of class

OH MY GOD????I LOVE THIS AHHH

Edge Of You —- SIM JAEYUN

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switch!jake x obsessive!fem reader | stalker turns captor | Jake doesn’t want it… until he does | edging & restraint as emotional warfare | filthy handjobs + grinding + breathplay | psychological dominance | tearful begging | reader moaning just to tease | “you’re mine now” energy | twisted mutual obsession by the end | DARK CONTENT AHEAD

masterlist | wattpad

wc: 4432

summary: You stole him—sweet, golden Jake. Tied him up, blindfolded him, made him beg. But games like these? They never go quite how you plan.

warnings: kidnapping fantasy · bondage (wrist + chair) · blindfolding · edging · orgasm denial · manipulation · power play · obsessive behavior · psychological control · spit play · sub!jake (initially) · switch dynamics · dom!reader to dom!jake reversal · rough handling · degradation + praise mix · crying kink · consensual non-consent (CNC vibes) · intense sexual tension · blurred consent themes · revenge sex energy · possessiveness

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The first thing Jake feels is heat. A warm, flickering heat, brushing over his cheeks.

Then—

Silk. Tight against his wrists, behind his back. His legs, spread and locked by the firm wooden structure of a chair. Ankles bound.

His tongue is dry.

His shirt’s missing.

And his eyes—

He can’t open them.

Because they’re blindfolded.

A low hum cuts through the air, something soft and jazzy, playing on repeat from an old speaker.

He tries to speak. “Hello—?”

But it comes out broken. Hoarse. Too dry. His voice shakes.

Then:

He hears footsteps.

Click. Click. Click.

Slow, deliberate. He tenses, every muscle locked.

You don’t speak at first.

You just… watch him.

From across the room, standing barefoot in your oversized hoodie, candlelight painting your face in soft, deceiving warmth.

He jerks in place. “W-Who are you? What the fuck is this?”

You tilt your head, as if genuinely curious about his reaction.

“You don’t recognize me?”

Your voice is light. Pretty, even.

Terrifying.

“I—I don’t—what do you want? Please—just—” he swallows hard, “—just let me go.”

“You always sound this pretty when you beg?” you murmur.

He freezes.

You step forward. Slowly. Calmly. Like nothing about this is insane. Like this is the natural order of things.

You crouch beside him, not touching—just watching. “You smell like vanilla. I always knew you would.”

His breath catches.

“I saw your cologne in the locker room once,” you continue, dreamily. “Had to walk past three other guys to get close enough. Worth it. I memorized it.”

He tries to turn his face away. He can’t. You place your fingers beneath his chin and gently tilt his face toward yours.

Even blindfolded, he can feel the heat of your stare.

“You—this is—you’re insane.”

Jake’s voice breaks on the last word.

You smile. “You think so?”

“I—I don’t even know you—”

You hum softly. “You do, though. You just don’t remember. Back row, Philosophy 202. Tuesdays and Thursdays. I always sat behind you.”

Jake’s chest rises and falls faster now. “What—what do you want?”

“Time,” you whisper. “With you. That’s all. To talk. To listen. To watch you squirm a little.”

You lean closer, your breath brushing his ear.

“So pretty when you’re helpless.”

Jake flinches. His breathing is ragged now. You can see the sweat at his temples.

He tries again. “Please. Just—untie me. I won’t tell anyone, I swear—”

Your expression doesn’t change. “You think I’d let you go just because you said please?”

He freezes.

You walk away. Not out of the room—just around him. Slowly. Letting the floor creak on purpose. Letting him listen. Letting him guess what’s coming next.

“Do you know what it feels like,” you murmur, “to sit behind someone for an entire semester and wonder if they even know you breathe the same air?”

Silence.

“I watched the way your hands moved when you wrote. How you bit your lip when you were thinking. You dropped your pen once. It rolled to my foot. You said ‘thanks’ when I passed it back.”

He says nothing.

You stop behind him.

“That was the best day of my year.”

The silence now is deafening.

Jake’s breathing is shallow. “You’ve been—watching me—this whole time?”

“Yes.”

Said plainly. Proudly. No shame.

He shifts again, wrists tugging at the fabric binding them. “This is fucking insane. You—you kidnapped me—”

“No,” you say sweetly. “I saved you.”

He stops moving.

You step closer. Hands on the back of the chair. “You never seemed happy, Jake. Always smiling, always polite. But no one saw you. Not really. Not like I did.”

He doesn’t respond.

So you lean down, whispering against the shell of his ear.

“I saw everything.”

______

You circle him again. Slow. Measured.

Like a gallery piece. Like prey. Jake doesn’t speak now. Just breathes. Short, shallow. His shoulders tremble where he’s tied to the chair. The blindfold’s starting to slip.

You step closer. One finger slides up his jaw, over the edge of the fabric.

“You don’t get to look at me yet,” you murmur, almost thoughtfully. “You haven’t earned that.” Your voice is soft. Kind. Crueler than a knife.

But then—

You hesitate.

And slowly, deliberately, you untie the blindfold. The silk falls. For a moment… nothing. Then he blinks.

Eyes adjusting. And he sees you. You’re prepared for fear. Confusion. Rage. And at first, it’s there. His brows knit. His breath stutters. His lips part like he’s about to ask—why.

But then—

Just for a second—

Something else. Something hotter. Something that flashes and vanishes so quickly, you don’t even register it.

A flicker. Of something dark. Like he’s seen you before. Like he wanted this.

But you’re still speaking, still pacing, still caught in the rhythm of your obsession—and so you don’t notice it. Not really.

But he does. And the look he gives you now? Not fear. Calculation. But it’s gone in an instant. Because he knows how to play this. He always did. He drops his eyes. Shakes his head. Swallows.

“What do you want from me?” he whispers.

And just like that—you fall right back into control.

You kneel in front of him, eyes locked on his, and whisper:

“Everything.”

______

The room is still warm. Jake’s breathing is louder now — not panicked anymore, just… uneven.

You kneel between his legs. Not touching. Not yet.

“You’re being good now,” you whisper. “Quieter. Listening.”

His lips part, but he says nothing.

His cheeks are flushed. His chest rises, falls, rises again. You lean in closer, letting your breath fan across his collarbone.

“I wonder how long that’ll last.”

And then, you do something simple. You shift. Onto your knees. In front of him. Eyes level with the waistband of his jeans.

He twitches. Just once. You smile.

“You’re still scared,” you murmur. “But not as much as before.”

Your nails trail up the inside of his thigh—not touching him, just dragging slowly across the denim. He flinches again.

“Cute,” you say softly. “So reactive.”

He opens his mouth. “Please…”

You tilt your head. “Please what?”

“I don’t—” he swallows, hard, “—I don’t know.”

“Oh, you do.”

You rise slightly on your knees. One hand presses gently against his chest. “Your body knows.”

His eyes are blown wide. Hands still tied behind the chair, completely exposed. Helpless. Beautiful.

You place your hand at your own thigh this time. Drag it slowly under the hem of your oversized hoodie. Let your fingers dip between your own legs — just enough to make him stare.

His jaw goes slack. His throat bobs. “Does this make you nervous?” you ask, voice still calm, still curious.

He nods. You smirk. “But you’re not looking away.”

He doesn’t respond.

You pull your hand back out. Wet. Glowing in the candlelight. You step closer—real slow—and place your palm against his cheek.

He jerks, breathing hard.

You stroke your fingers down his jawline. Not harsh. Not fast. Just enough.

“You’re doing so well,” you whisper. “Being so quiet. So still.”

You lean close, lips at his ear.

“You want to be good for me, don’t you?”

Jake chokes out a sound that’s halfway between a nod and a whimper.

You hum. Like you already knew the answer.

_________

You lean in. Closer. Jake’s breathing has changed again — no longer shallow and panicked.

Now it’s heavier. Like he doesn’t know what to do with the way his body is reacting.

He watches you—eyes wide, lips parted, pupils dark with something dangerous building behind them.

But he says nothing. Not even when your knees press to either side of his thighs and you crawl into his lap, slow as silk.

Still not touching anything… but your face is inches from his.

“You’re being so good,” you murmur. “So still. So obedient.”

He shudders.

You tilt your head. “Do you want me to kiss you, Jake?”

He blinks. Hesitates. Then nods, slowly. You smile like you just won something.

“Good boy.”

And then—

you kiss him. Not soft. Not gentle. You kiss him like you’re trying to own his mouth. Like it was made for you.

His lips are warm. Hesitant at first — but it only takes one roll of your hips forward, one hand wrapped behind his neck, to make him break.

And then-

He moans.Into your mouth. Like he’s ashamed of it. It vibrates against your tongue. Makes you kiss him deeper.

You pull back for half a breath—

just enough to spit into his mouth. His lips are parted and gasping when you do it, so it lands right on his tongue. Hot. Wet. Intentional.

He chokes on the gasp that follows, eyes fluttering, completely gone.

“Swallow.”

He obeys. You kiss him again. Even messier this time. Spit smeared between your mouths, your tongue licking into him like it belongs there. You press your body against him, grind once—light, teasing.

And again—

He moans.

Like a whimper. Like it escapes without permission.

You smile against his lips, whispering:

“There it is.”

_________

You pull back from his mouth, both of you breathless—but only one of you in control.

Jake’s head lolls slightly against the back of the chair, lips still wet, cheeks flushed.

Eyes glassy.

“Look at you,” you whisper. “Already falling apart. And I haven’t even touched you yet.”

He whimpers—actually whimpers—and you grin.

You lean forward again. But this time, you don’t go for his lips. You lick a long, slow stripe up the side of his face.

From the corner of his jaw, up over his cheekbone, to just beneath his eye. Wet, slow, possessive.

He gasps. Chokes. Moans again. His head jerks, but he can’t move much. The ropes won’t let him.

“You taste like fear,” you whisper, your tongue still brushing his skin. “And sweat. And something sweeter underneath. You’re delicious, Jake.”

He tries to say something—maybe beg, maybe plead—but it turns into a sharp breath the moment your hand moves between his legs.

You palm him once, lightly, just over the jeans.

He jolts.

“Ohh,” you murmur. “So hard already. Is this all for me?”

Your fingers trace the outline slowly. No rush. Just enough to let him feel it. He bucks slightly into your palm, desperate.

“Tsk.” You lick his cheek again. “Be still.”

He moans again, breathless and soaked with need. You feel the throb under your hand even through the fabric.

You undo the button. Slowly. Then the zipper. The sound slices through the room. He’s panting now. Silently begging. Hands still tied, body shaking.

And then—

your hand wraps around him. Skin to skin. Jake cries out. Loud. Raw. Desperate. You smile, dragging your palm up his cock, slow and deliberate, while your tongue flicks over his cheek again.

“I told you,” you whisper into his ear. “You don’t get to finish. Not yet. Not until I say.”

_______________

Your hand is already around him — hot, slick, needy in your palm.

He whimpers. Hips twitch. Head thrown back. You tighten your grip—just a little.

And then start stroking. Not soft. Not slow. Rough. Purposeful. Cruel.

“Shit—!” Jake gasps, eyes fluttering, the ropes behind him going taut as he instinctively tries to move. Tries to thrust into your fist. Tries to chase the friction.

But you’re in charge. And you don’t let him have it that easy. Your pace is fast—twisting at the top, squeezing at the base. Each stroke calculated. Sloppy. Cruel.

You lean close, tongue dragging along his jaw again, spit slicking his cheek.

He’s already panting. Whining. His thighs trembling beneath you.

“Fuck—please—” he gasps.

“Oh?” You don’t slow. “Are you gonna cum?.”

He nods, frantic. “Yes, yes, please—please let me—“

And that’s when you stop.

Completely. Your hand pulls away. You press your palm flat against his lower stomach instead. Jake chokes on the scream in his throat. His entire body shudders.

“W-why did you—fuck—”

He’s shaking. Sweat dripping down his temple. His cock throbbing—desperate and untouched.

You grin. “I didn’t say you could.”

He groans—loud, frustrated, broken.

“Poor baby,” you whisper, licking your way back to his mouth. “You thought I was doing this for you?”

And then—

You do it again.

You take him back in your hand. Stroke him fast, wet, rough—his hips stuttering, mouth falling open as a moan tears through him.

He’s right there. You feel it.

The tension in his abdomen. The twitching in your palm. His voice cracking.

And again—

You stop.

Jake screams.

Head back, chest heaving, thighs jerking under you.

He’s ruined. Crying. His cock is dripping. His voice gone.

And you? You’re calm.

“You’ll cum when I say, Jake.”

Your fingers trail through the mess on his tip, just barely brushing. “And not a second before.”

______

He’s shaking now.

You’ve edged him so many times his thighs won’t stop twitching. His chest is flushed pink. Cock angry and slick and aching in your grip.

But you’re not done.

Not even close.

You lower your mouth.

Let your tongue flick against the head—slow, messy licks. Let it drip down the sides.

Your fist never stops moving.

Jake howls—his voice breaking.

“F-fuck—please—I can’t—”

He’s babbling. Whimpering. His hips jerking up even though he’s tied down.

And you?

You smile against the tip of his cock, let your tongue swirl around it like it’s a lollipop you own.

“You’re still not allowed, baby,” you murmur. “Not until I say.”

He sobs. Head tipped back, throat exposed, tears streaking his cheeks. Your tongue flattens against the underside. You edge him again. You suck just enough. Stroke just fast enough.

Until you feel the way his whole body coils, the orgasm building—tighter, closer—right there—and you pull away again.

He screams. Loud. Broken.

And you laugh.

“You love this,” you whisper. “You’re so pretty like this.”

He’s gasping for air. Trembling. Absolutely gone.

But—

Behind the chair—

His fingers have been working. Slow. Careful.

The knot is almost undone now. One more twist. One more second. You don’t notice. Because you’re too busy licking the precum from his tip like it’s honey.

Too obsessed with the way he twitches when you breathe against him.

And in front of you? Jake’s face is contorted in desperation.

But—

If you looked closer—

You’d see something else. Just for a second. That flicker again.

Not fear. Not need. Not pain. A smirk. Small. Dangerous. Gone the second you look up. But it was there. And the rope behind the chair?

Almost off.

_____

He’s trembling in your lap. Cock flushed and dripping. Chest streaked with tears. Mouth open, voice broken. You’re licking him again.

Sucking slow. Stroking rough. Whispering praise and mockery into the slick space between his moans.

“You’re gonna cry for me again, aren’t you?”

You kiss the head. Lap up another drop. “Pretty thing.”

Jake sobs.

“Please… please… I can’t…”

You smile. “Not yet.”

And you don’t see it.

You don’t see it.

Behind the chair, the rope around his wrists has already gone loose.

It hangs, limp and forgotten. The knot you tied? Picked open fifteen minutes ago.

He stayed there. Let you ruin him. Because he wanted you distracted. Obsessed. Busy. And now? Now his fingers are curling behind his back. His wrists flex. He rolls his shoulders once. Cracks his neck. And lets you keep going.

Your tongue is on him again — sloppy, loving, rough.

Your hand jerks his cock just right. His body jolts.

He moans again, soft and desperate. “Y-Yes… fuck—yes—”

You don’t see it yet. But the look in his eyes is different. Not broken. Not submissive. Patient. He watches your face while you stroke him. Watches how hungry you look. How far you’ve slipped into your own fantasy.

You think he’s crying. You don’t notice he’s smiling.

And then—

he moves. One hand rises. Slow. Quiet. It lands on the back of your head. You freeze. Your lips are still parted. Still hovering over the flushed tip of his cock.

“Wha—?”

You don’t finish the word.

His other hand grips your jaw.

Gentle… but firm.

You blink.

And now his eyes are wide open.

Clear. Controlled. Focused.

He tilts your face up to meet his.

And he smiles.

Not soft.

Not sweet.

Sharp.

“I think,” Jake says, voice low and steady, “you’ve had your turn.”

________

Your lips are still slick with spit.

Your hand’s still wrapped around him.

Trembling now. Not from power — but from shock.

Because Jake’s hand is cupping your jaw. Holding it tight.

And his other hand is free.

He’s no longer tied.

You are.

Not physically.

Not yet.

But you feel it. In the way his fingers press, in the way his stare sharpens.

“Let go,” he says.

You hesitate.

“Let. Go.”

You release his cock, slowly. Your hand drops to your lap.

You try to rise.

He pushes you back down.

Not hard. Not violent.

Just enough.

Your knees hit the floor again.

Mouth still parted in surprise. Chest heaving.

Jake tilts his head.

“You had your fun,” he says, voice steady now. “You made me beg. You made me cry.”

A pause.

“You made me yours.”

His thumb brushes over your bottom lip.

“But you made one mistake.”

You swallow.

Jake leans down. His mouth inches from yours.

“You didn’t ask yourself what I wanted.”

Then—

His hand slides into your hair. Fist closing.

Tugging your head back hard.

You gasp. Eyes wide. Neck bared.

“I should ruin you right now,” he murmurs. “Make you take it. Make you fucking choke on it.”

You don’t speak.

You can’t.

Jake steps forward, his cock inches from your lips again. Fully hard. Veins prominent. Angry.

He slaps the head against your mouth—once.

“You like spit so much?”

Another slap. “Beg for it.”

You blink, still trying to understand the shift. Still trying to catch your breath.

He doesn’t wait.

He grabs your jaw again—fingers digging in—and spits into your mouth.

“Swallow.”

You do.

“Now open again.”

You obey.

Jake smirks.

“There she is. My good little fucking slut.”

________

You’re still on your knees.

His spit on your tongue. His grip in your hair.

And then—he pulls you.

Up.

With one strong arm, Jake yanks you into his lap, your back pressed flush against his chest. His thighs wide beneath you, keeping yours spread. His breath hot at your neck.

You try to speak—say something, anything—but his hand is already sliding under your hoodie. Fingers slow. Warm. Possessive.

“You thought you were watching me, huh?” he whispers against your ear. “You thought you had control?”

His fingers dip between your legs.

You freeze. Shudder. Moan—soft and broken.

“But you never even noticed the camera in your bathroom mirror, did you?”

Your breath catches.

“I put it there two weeks ago. Right after I followed you home for the first time.”

His middle finger drags through your folds. Slow. Testing.

“You smell the same in real life as you did in my bed sheets.”

Your body jolts. Your hips press down into his hand instinctively.

Jake chuckles. Dark. Gentle. Cruel.

“You broke into my head,” he murmurs. “So I broke into your world.”

Two fingers slide into you. Deep.

You arch against him, hands gripping his thighs now, mouth falling open.

“You were always so fucking obsessed,” he says softly, pumping his fingers slow. “Tying me up. Making me beg. Ruining me.”

He curls them.

You cry out.

“But guess what, baby?”

His lips graze your neck. Fingers stroking harder now, faster—knowing exactly where to press.

“I liked it.”

You choke on a gasp. Eyes rolling back.

“You thought I was scared?” he breathes. “I let you. Every second. Because I wanted to feel how far you’d go.”

Your hips are grinding against his hand now. Wet. Desperate. Needy.

“I memorized your class schedule before you even noticed me,” he whispers. “I watched you through your window. I came in your underwear drawer.”

You shatter.

A moan breaks from your throat. A deep, trembling wave surges through you—but he doesn’t stop. His fingers keep moving, dragging it out, making it worse.

You can’t speak.

But you love it.

You love every word. Every twist of his fingers. Every time he tells you the things you should be horrified by.

And Jake?

He knows.

“That’s it,” he whispers, voice shaking from how hard he’s holding himself back. “You like it. Don’t you?”

You nod, frantic. Pathetic.

“You like that I’m just as fucked up as you.”

______

You’re still breathing hard when he slides his fingers out of you.

Slick. Shiny. Dripping.

“Open,” Jake says, his voice flat but dark with heat. “Now.”

You do. Lips parted, throat tight, eyes glassy.

He slides both fingers past your tongue.

Deep.

His other hand is wrapped tight around your throat now, not squeezing—just holding you still. Guiding your head back against his shoulder.

“Clean them,” he says. “I want you to taste how desperate you are.”

You moan around his fingers, sucking hard—swirling your tongue around the knuckles like it’s instinct. Like you’ve done it before.

Jake watches. His eyes half-lidded, lip caught between his teeth. His cock presses hard against your lower back through his jeans, twitching every time you whimper.

“God, you’re such a mess for me,” he mutters. “You pretend you had control. But this—”

He grinds once against your ass. You shudder.

“This is what you really wanted, wasn’t it?”

You whine.

He pulls his fingers from your mouth, slick and shining with spit. Brings them back down to your pussy—just once. One slow drag. Just to make you twitch.

Then he lifts you slightly—arms strong under your thighs—and shifts your position, guiding you down onto him.

No warning.

No prep.

Just your soaked pussy and the stretch of his cock as he splits you open from below.

You cry out—sharp and breathless—and he groans into your shoulder, his voice low and wrecked.

“Fuck—so tight—you were waiting for this, weren’t you?”

He stays still for a second. Letting you feel it. Letting you take every inch while you tremble in his lap.

His hands hold your thighs open, locking you down. His cock deep, unmoving, twitching inside you.

Then he starts to move.

Slow thrusts at first—deep, dragging, grinding.

You moan, head falling back. His name breaking off your lips.

He fucks up into you from below, rhythm brutal and steady. The sound of skin on skin echoing through the candlelit room.

“Fuck—fuck—” you sob. “Jake—please—”

He leans in, voice in your ear.

“Beg louder.”

He thrusts harder.

Your pussy clamps around him, loud wet slaps filling the room. His hands hold your hips down, forcing you to take it, over and over.

His balls slap against your ass. Heavy. Relentless.

Every moan he drags from you only makes him rougher.

“Say you love it,” he growls. “Say you wanted me watching.”

“I—fuck—yes—yes—”

“Say you’re mine.”

“I’m—yours—I’m yours, Jake—”

And he fucks you through it—head tipped back, mouth open, groaning your name into the dark like a prayer and a curse.

You’re not dominating anymore.

You’re not in control.

You’re ruined in his lap, crying out, cumming around him, while he holds your body down and keeps thrusting.

_______

You’re limp in his lap now.

Sweat-slick, twitching, breath still catching every few seconds.

Your back’s still pressed to his chest, your legs spread wide where he forced them apart.

His cock softening inside you, still buried deep.

Your thighs soaked and trembling.

You can’t speak.

You can barely think.

And Jake?

He holds you.

Arms locked around your waist like a vice.

His mouth pressed just behind your ear, breathing steady now.

Not moaning anymore.

Whispering.

“You’re not leaving me,” he murmurs.

You blink slowly. You don’t even try to pull away.

His hand slides down to your thigh again, fingers dragging through the mess he made between your legs.

“Not after this. Not after what you did. Not after what I did.”

You whimper.

Jake smiles against your skin. You feel it.

“You were watching me like I belonged to you.”

He kisses your neck.

“But you never asked if I already knew.”

His fingers rub your clit again—lazy, circular, soft.

You jolt, twitching, overstimulated. But you don’t stop him.

“You thought you were breaking me, huh?” he breathes. “Tying me up. Taking control.”

He licks behind your ear. You shiver.

“But I let you do that. Every bit of it. Because I wanted to see if you could take it when I gave it back.”

His fingers dip inside you again.

You whine—exhausted, raw—but your hips roll without meaning to. You hate how much you still need it.

“Now here’s how this works,” Jake murmurs.

His free hand grips your jaw again, turning your face toward his.

“You’re going to listen when I tell you to open your mouth.”

You nod. Barely.

“You’re going to keep your window unlocked.”

Another nod.

“You’ll wear what I like. You’ll touch yourself only when I say. And you’ll keep pretending you’re the one in control—because I know you like it better that way.”

Your chest rises and falls, your pulse out of control. But you say it. Weak. Honest.

“Yes.”

Jake kisses your cheek. Gentle. Almost sweet.

Then he says it.

“You’re mine now.”

_________ THANK YOU FOR THIS DELICIOUS REQ BB I HOPE THIS WAS PERFECT <3

perm taglist - @yourislandgirl @luvr4gyu @staarflowerr @whattlulu @chae-rries @mariegibeau @wonuziex @iris65 @toastmenace @saraabbas @kaykay11sworld @en-boyz @strawberrykkk1 @nshmrarki @xoseos @rosepetalsO9 @candidupped

© si3rren 2025. all rights reserved.

[hoonieangel]

holy shit

[hoonieangel]

THIS ALBUM IS SO GOOD

[gyuuberryy]

user error

pairing: nerd!jake x reader

genre: college au, eventual simp x simp dynamic, smut, slow burn

synopsis: getting partnered with jake, the tall awkward nerd from on of your computer science classes, should've been simple—work on the project, get your grade, move on. except now you're completely obsessed with him and he's totally clueless about it. between tutoring sessions you definitely don't need and "coincidental" dorm hall run-ins, you're pulling out all the stops. too bad jake's more interested in his textbooks than your very obvious flirting.

you've never been rejected before, so this should be fine. …right?

warnings (MDNI 18+ only!!) : smut (oral sex(f. and m. receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, size difference, big dick!jake, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, pussy drunk!jake, dry humping, heavy makeout, whiny!jake), cursing, mild alcohol use, emotional manipulation, jealousy, themes of insecurity, angst, lots computer science related terms(i kind of geeked out here), reader's kind of delulu and a jerk

note: i'm back to my writing style for lighthearted fics for this one hehe. i lovelovelove nerdy shy men tropes sooo much. i did try to keep it a little realistic though. i hope you like this! enjoyyy

word count: 21.8k

taglist | more works!

you were alone in the computer science lab at nearly midnight, which wasn't unusual. assignments had a way of turning the building into a second home. but tonight felt wrong. everything felt too much. the lights buzzed too loud, drilling into your skull with that persistent electrical hum. your eyes burned from staring at your screen for four hours straight, vision going fuzzy at the edges. somewhere around hour three, you'd stopped actually processing code and started just staring through it.

your cold coffee sat forgotten beside your laptop, abandoned but still somehow necessary because the alternative was admitting defeat and going back to your dorm where your roommate and her boyfriend were probably still taking up the entire common space. you'd rather deal with this. the overstimulation. the way every tiny sound felt amplified in the empty lab. the aggressive brightness of your laptop screen. the uncomfortable pressure building behind your eyes that meant you were about to either cry or throw your laptop across the room. probably both.

your code wasn't working. hadn't been working for two days, and you'd tried everything. every forum suggestion, every stack overflow solution, every pathetic office hours visit where you'd explained your problem three times and still left confused. the cursor blinked at you on line two thousand and forty seven, mocking. the compiler kept throwing errors you didn't understand, and you'd rewritten that function six times already. your hands shook slightly from too much caffeine and not enough food. that tight, hot feeling crept up your throat. the one that signalled imminent breakdown.

you pressed your palms against your eyes until you saw spots, trying to reset something in your overwhelmed nervous system. didn't work. nothing worked tonight.

the silence in the lab was the worst part, it was so quiet that it made you hyper-aware of your own breathing, your heartbeat, the small wet sound your tongue made against the roof of your mouth when you swallowed. you hated it.

then suddenly, the power cut out. total darkness that swallowed everything in an instant, your laptop screen going black, even the emergency exit signs disappearing. your heart kicked into overdrive, adrenaline flooding so fast you felt dizzy. you reached out instinctively for your laptop, fingers scrabbling across the desk, needing to confirm it was still there, that everything you'd been working on wasn't just gone.

suddenly you heard footsteps. someone else was in the lab. you hadn't known anyone else was here. the realisation sent fear spiking through your chest because you'd been so certain you were alone. now there was someone moving closer, footsteps uneven and hurried like they couldn't see any better than you. you opened your mouth to say something, but before you could form words there was sudden pressure against your shoulder, hard and unexpected, and then there was the splash of cold liquid, spreading across your lap and chest.

your coffee. the cup tipped and spilt, liquid soaking through your jeans, spreading sticky and uncomfortable across your thighs. panic hit first, pure and primal, because for a split second all you could think was laptop, everything's gone, hours of work, my entire project. your hands flew out in the darkness, patting frantically at the desk, trying to assess the damage. your chest was so tight you couldn't get a full breath.

then came the anger. fast and hot and overwhelming, rising from somewhere deep in your stomach. you wanted to scream. wanted to grab whoever crashed into you and shake them. wanted to cry from sheer frustration because this was exactly what you didn't need tonight, not when you were already hanging on by a thread.

"oh my god, oh my god, i'm so sorry, i didn't see you, i didn't think anyone else was here, i'm so sorry." the voice came rapid-fire from somewhere to your left. male, young, pitched higher than normal with genuine distress. 

he kept apologising, words tumbling over each other, and there was something in his tone that didn't sound rehearsed. he sounded actually afraid, like he'd just committed some unforgivable sin. 

"i didn't mean to, i couldn't see, the power just went out and i was trying to get to the door and i'm so sorry, did it get on your laptop? please tell me it didn't get on your laptop."

you took a breath, trying to force words past the tightness in your throat, trying to formulate some response that matched the fury still coursing through your veins. your mouth opened, something sharp and cutting right on the edge of your tongue.

the emergency lighting kicked in. not much, just pale green strips along the baseboards casting everything in eerie, insufficient glow. enough to see by. enough to make out shapes, faces.

the guy who'd run into you stood about two feet away, and the first thing you noticed was his hands. hovering in the air between you, trembling visibly even in the dim light, fingers spread like he wanted to help but didn't dare touch anything. he was tall and lean, dark hair stuck up in odd directions like he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly. glasses had slipped down his nose, and behind them his eyes were wide. genuinely panicked in a way that didn't feel performed at all.

"your laptop," he said, voice still shaking with that same desperate concern. "what model is it? did the coffee get on it? the keyboard is the main concern, if liquid got into the keyboard we need to shut it down immediately and flip it over to drain, we need to know if you had everything backed up." 

he was already moving closer, trembling hands reaching toward your desk, and you realised with a start that he hadn't even looked at you properly yet. his entire focus was on your laptop. on the problem he'd created. on fixing it.

"it's fine," you managed, voice coming out rougher than intended. you looked down at your computer. sitting safely to the right of where your coffee had been, completely dry and unharmed. "it didn't get on it."

the relief that washed over his face was so profound you almost felt embarrassed witnessing it. his shoulders sagged. his hands finally dropped to his sides. he let out a long, shaky breath like he'd been holding it since the collision.

 "okay. okay, that's good, that's really good." then, almost as an afterthought, his eyes finally moved to actually look at you. taking in your coffee-soaked lap, your tense posture, your expression which you were sure wasn't friendly. "are you okay? did you get burned? that coffee looked hot, if it was hot we should get you to a sink, run cold water on it."

"it was cold," you said. true, but didn't make the situation better. your jeans were soaked through, fabric clinging uncomfortably to your skin, coffee starting to seep into your chair. you were sticky and irritated and still running on too much adrenaline. but he looked so genuinely distressed that some of your anger started deflating despite yourself.

"cold coffee is still a problem," he said, already pulling his backpack off his shoulder, unzipping it with fumbling fingers. "the sugar content means it'll get sticky when it dries, and it can stain, especially on lighter fabrics. i have napkins, i think, or maybe paper towels, i definitely have something." 

he was rummaging through his bag now, pulling out crumpled papers, a graphing calculator, several pens, tangled earbuds, talking the entire time in that same rapid, anxious way. 

"i'm really sorry, i should have been more careful, i knew the power was out, i should have used my phone flashlight, i just thought i knew the layout well enough to navigate in the dark but obviously i was wrong."

you watched him. something uncomfortable shifted in your chest. you'd been prepared to snap at him, to unleash all your accumulated frustration on whoever had been careless enough to run into you. but he wasn't making excuses. wasn't trying to minimise what he'd done or deflect blame or make some joke to lighten the mood. he was just genuinely, almost painfully concerned about the problem he'd created. the way he kept apologising, kept trying to fix things, made it very hard to stay angry.

"here," he said triumphantly, producing a small pack of tissues from the bottom of his bag. he held them out, then seemed to realise how inadequate they were and let out a frustrated sound. "these aren't going to be enough. we should go to the bathroom, get some actual paper towels. or maybe the kitchen area on the second floor, they have those industrial dispensers that are way more absorbent." 

he paused, finally seeming to register that you hadn't moved, that you were just sitting there watching him. his ears went red, visible even in the dim green emergency lighting. "sorry, i'm sorry, i'm doing it again. my sister always tells me i go into problem-solving mode when i'm anxious and it makes people feel like i'm not actually listening to them. are you okay? like, actually okay, not just physically okay?"

the question caught you off guard. nobody had asked you that in days. maybe weeks. everyone just assumed you were fine because you were handling things, meeting deadlines, showing up to class. but this stranger who'd just spilt coffee all over you was looking at you with genuine concern, waiting for a real answer. something in your chest felt suddenly too tight.

"i'm fine," you said, softer than intended. you took the tissues from him, dabbing uselessly at your jeans. he was right. they weren't nearly enough. but the gesture felt important somehow. "it's been a long night."

"assignments?" he asked. when you nodded he made a sympathetic noise. "yeah, same. i've been here since six. had a project deadline at midnight but then the power went out fifteen minutes before and now i don't know if my submission went through because the wifi died with the electricity." he pushed his glasses up his nose. nervous gesture you got the impression he did frequently. 

"i'm jake, by the way. jake sim. i feel like i should probably introduce myself since i just, like, assaulted you with your own beverage."

despite everything, ruined jeans and exhaustion and broken code, you felt the corner of your mouth twitch. not quite a smile, but close. "assaulted me with my own beverage?"

"well, yeah," he said, looking vaguely embarrassed. "i mean, i weaponised your coffee against you. that's technically assault, right? or maybe battery? i always get those mixed up. my roommate's a poli-sci major, he'd know."

 he was rambling now, words spilling out in that same anxious rush, and there was something almost endearing about how completely lacking in artifice it was. he wasn't trying to be charming. wasn't trying to be funny. just genuinely nervous and dealing with it by talking too much.

you told him your name. he repeated it carefully, like he was committing it to memory. "i really am sorry," he said again, quieter this time. "what were you working on? before i interrupted?"

"data structures project," you said. just thinking about it made your shoulders tense again. "it's due tomorrow and there's a bug i can't figure out and i've been staring at it for hours."

his eyes lit up behind his glasses, spark of interest that transformed his whole face. "what kind of bug? runtime error? logic error? is it a pointer issue? those are always the worst, especially with linked lists."

 he was already moving closer to your laptop, stopping himself at the last second like he'd realised he was being presumptuous. "sorry, i mean, i could take a look if you want? i'm pretty good with data structures. it's kind of my thing. i'm a TA for comp 201 actually, so i see a lot of common bugs. but also totally no pressure, i know i just dumped coffee on you so you probably don't want my help."

you should have said no. didn't know this guy, didn't owe him anything. you'd been managing just fine on your own. except you hadn't been managing fine. you'd been on the verge of a breakdown in an empty lab at midnight. now here was this nervous, rambling stranger offering help without expecting anything in return, looking at you like your problem was genuinely important to him.

it was disorienting. how quickly your anger had evaporated, replaced by something you couldn't quite name. you found yourself noticing details you shouldn't care about. the way he kept pushing his glasses up. the way his hands had finally stopped shaking now that he had something concrete to focus on.

"okay," you heard yourself say. his whole face brightened in a way that made something flutter uncomfortably in your stomach. "yeah, if you don't mind looking at it."

"i don't mind at all," he said quickly, already pulling up a chair. he left careful distance between you though, hyper-aware of not invading your space again. "show me what you've got."

you turned your laptop toward him. he leaned in, eyes scanning the lines with immediate focus. his expression shifted into something concentrated, intense. this was probably what he looked like when he wasn't tripping over people in the dark and panicking about it. he started asking questions about your implementation, your logic, what you'd already tried. his voice had lost that nervous edge. this was clearly where he was comfortable. in the clean logic of code, in problems that had solutions.

you answered his questions. watched as he nodded, occasionally pushing his glasses up, finger tracing lines of code on the screen without quite touching it. the emergency lighting cast strange shadows across his face, highlighting his cheekbones, the strong line of his jaw, the way his brow furrowed in concentration.

you were noticing things you shouldn't notice. but you told yourself it wasn't because you found him attractive. you were just paying attention because he was helping. because he'd disrupted your solitary misery and replaced it with something else. something that felt almost like companionship.

"there," he said suddenly, pointing to a line in the middle of your function. "you're incrementing the counter before you check the condition, but you need to check the condition first. it's causing an off-by-one error. see? you're accessing index n when your array only goes up to n minus one."

you stared at the line he was indicating. slowly, horribly, you realised he was right. such a simple mistake, the kind of thing you should have caught hours ago. but you'd been too tired, too frustrated, too deep in your own head to see it. "oh my god," you said quietly. "that's it. that's the whole problem."

"easy fix," jake said, smiling now. a real smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "just move that line down two spaces and add the conditional check first. you want me to...?" he gestured at your keyboard, asking permission. you nodded, watched as he made the adjustment with quick, confident keystrokes. "there. try running it now."

you hit compile, holding your breath. for the first time in two days the program ran without errors. the output printed exactly the way it was supposed to. clean and correct and perfect. relief flooded through you so intensely you felt dizzy with it, all the tension you'd been carrying suddenly releasing at once. "thank you," you said, voice more emotional than intended. "seriously, thank you, i've been losing my mind over this."

"it happens to everyone," jake said gently. "sometimes you just need fresh eyes. i've definitely been there." he leaned back in his chair, that nervous energy returning now that the immediate problem was solved. "your code is really clean, by the way. like, really well-structured. that bug was literally the only issue, everything else is solid."

the compliment settled warm in your chest. you realised with a start that you felt calm. actually calm, for the first time all night. your heart rate had slowed. your hands were steady. the overwhelming pressure behind your eyes had eased.

the lab was still too quiet, the emergency lighting still eerie and insufficient, your jeans still soaked with cold coffee. but somehow none of it felt as unbearable as it had fifteen minutes ago. and that was because of him. because jake had crashed into you in the dark and apologised too much and fixed your code and made you feel less alone in this empty building at midnight.

jake was gathering his things, shoving papers and pens back into his backpack with the same energy he'd had while searching for tissues. "i should probably try to find someone about the power situation," he said. "and you should probably change before that coffee stains permanently. there's a campus store in the student centre that's open twenty-four hours, they have overpriced sweatpants but at least they're dry."

"yeah," you said, surprised to find you didn't want him to leave yet. "yeah, i probably should."

he stood up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder, and hesitated. "hey, um. if you ever need help with code stuff again, or if you just want to work in the lab at the same time, i'm here most nights. usually not spilling beverages on people, but, you know. tonight was special." he smiled awkwardly. you found yourself smiling back, a real smile this time.

"i might take you up on that," you said. meant it.

jake's expression brightened again. that same transformation you'd noticed earlier. he nodded. "cool. yeah, that would be cool. okay. i'm gonna go now before i accidentally break something else." he gave you a small wave, started toward the door, then turned back. "your code really is good, by the way. i wasn't just saying that."

then he was gone, disappearing into the dark hallway beyond the lab. you were alone again. but that realisation, that awareness that a stranger's clumsy kindness had affected you so much, sat uncomfortable and warm in your chest as you saved your work and finally, finally, packed up to leave.

you walked into your lecture the next morning running on four hours of sleep and caffeine-induced alertness that felt vaguely hallucinogenic. your jeans from last night were balled up in your laundry basket, probably stained beyond saving, and you'd thrown on the first clean thing you could find. 

you slid into your usual spot next to yunjin, who was already comparing notes with beomgyu across the aisle. they were your people. your safe zone. the ones you'd suffered through intro courses with, pulled all-nighters with, shared desperate pre-exam breakdowns with.

"you look like death," yunjin said cheerfully, not looking up from her phone.

"thanks. love you too."

"late night?" beomgyu leaned over, stealing one of yunjin's chips. "you missed the group chat meltdown about the algorithms homework."

you hummed noncommittally, pulling out your laptop. your code from last night was still open, that perfect, error-free output staring back at you. you'd submitted it at 12:47 am, seventeen minutes after jake had fixed it. seventeen minutes after he'd disappeared down that dark hallway.

you hadn't told yunjin and beomgyu about any of it. the power outage, the coffee, jake. especially jake. it felt somehow private, like explaining it would cheapen it or make it feel less significant than it had been in the moment.

professor kim walked in, and the room settled into that particular brand of restless attention that morning lectures always had. "alright, alright," she said, pulling up a slide that made half the room groan in unison. "i know you're all thrilled to hear this, but it's time to discuss your semester-long project."

chairs scraped against floors as people twisted around to look at their friends. voices overlapped, people already calling out names, forming pairs out of habit and convenience. you felt yunjin's hand on your arm at the same time beomgyu leaned over.

"partners?" yunjin said.

"obviously we're doing a group," beomgyu added. "the three of us, right?"

you nodded, half-listening, your attention already drifting across the lecture hall. you weren't sure what you were looking for until you found it. him. jake was sitting near the back with a small group of guys you vaguely recognised from other cs classes. he was hunched slightly over his notebook, pen moving across the page, taking notes while everyone else was busy forming alliances. his hair was even messier today, sticking up on one side like he'd rolled out of bed. his glasses kept sliding down his nose and he kept pushing them back up with his index finger, that same nervous gesture from last night.

he looked small somehow, despite being tall. like he was trying to take up less space. one of his friends said something and laughed, nudging jake's shoulder, but jake just smiled politely without really engaging. his attention stayed on his notebook.

you watched him for a moment longer than necessary. watched the way his shoulders curved inward, the way he held his pen, the concentrated furrow of his brow. something in your chest did an uncomfortable little flip.

"so we're agreed then?" yunjin was saying. "i'll handle the frontend, beomgyu can do the database stuff, and you can—"

you stood up. the decision happened before you'd fully processed it, your body moving on instinct or impulse or something you didn't want to examine too closely. your chair scraped loud enough that a few people glanced over.

"actually," you said, already stepping past beomgyu into the aisle. "i'm gonna partner with someone else."

"what?" yunjin's voice pitched up in genuine confusion. "who?"

but you were already walking. moving up the steps toward the back of the lecture hall, weaving between people who were still negotiating partnerships and arguing about skill distributions. you were aware of people watching. of yunjin and beomgyu's matching expressions of confusion. of the way conversations paused as you passed.

jake's friends noticed you first. one of them, a guy with bleached hair, nudged jake's arm and nodded in your direction. another one went quiet mid-sentence, eyes tracking your approach with unconcealed curiosity. jake looked up last, following their gazes, and when his eyes met yours he froze. actually froze, pen suspended over his notebook, lips slightly parted like he'd been about to say something and forgotten how.

you stopped at the edge of their row. suddenly hyperaware of how many people were definitely watching this interaction. "hey," you said, aiming for casual and landing somewhere near awkward. "you have a partner yet?"

jake blinked. once, twice. his friends were staring at him now, then at you, then back at him like they were watching a tennis match. "i—what?"

"for the project," you clarified, gesturing vaguely at professor kim who was still explaining requirements at the front of the room. "do you have a partner?"

"i—" jake's hand came up to push his glasses up his nose even though they hadn't moved. his ears were already turning red. "no? i mean, no, i don't, but—" he glanced at his friends, then back at you, looking genuinely lost. "are you—do you mean—"

"i'm asking if you want to partner up," you said, more directly this time. your heart was doing something weird and arrhythmic in your chest. "for the semester project."

the guy with bleached hair made a noise that might have been a strangled laugh. another one of jake's friends just gaped openly. jake himself looked like you'd just spoken to him in a language he only half understood. "you want to—with me?"

"yeah."

"but—" he gestured helplessly toward where yunjin and beomgyu were sitting, both of them now watching with unconcealed shock. "don't you usually work with your friends? i thought—"

"i'm asking you," you said, cutting him off before he could talk himself out of it or before you could overthink what you were doing. "if you already have other plans it's fine, i just thought—" you paused, scrambling for justification that didn't sound insane. "you're good at this stuff. you're a TA. you knew exactly what was wrong with my code last night in like, five seconds. it makes sense. strategically."

strategically. god, you sounded unhinged.

jake stared at you. his friends stared at you. half the lecture hall was probably staring at you at this point. "i—" jake swallowed visibly. "yeah. yes. i mean, if you want to, then—yeah. okay."

"yeah?"

"yeah." he nodded, more firmly this time, though he still looked vaguely shell-shocked. "we can—yeah. that would be—yeah."

his friends exchanged glances that were absolutely loaded with unspoken communication. the bleached hair guy, jungwon you think, was grinning now, looking between you and jake like he'd just witnessed something phenomenal. "well," he said, voice thick with amusement, "this is interesting."

you ignored him. "cool. we should probably meet up sometime this week to go over the requirements?"

"yeah, definitely," jake said quickly, already pulling out his phone with hands that trembled slightly. "i can—do you want my number? or i can get yours, or—we could use email if that's easier—"

"number's fine." you rattled it off, watching him type it into his contacts with endearing focus, tongue poking slightly between his teeth. when he looked up his expression was softer, less panicked. almost shy.

"okay," he said. "i'll text you?"

"sounds good."

you turned to head back down to your seat, acutely aware of the weight of multiple stares following your retreat. yunjin grabbed your arm the second you sat down, eyes wide with questions, but professor kim chose that moment to actually start the lecture and yunjin had to settle for furious whisper-hissing "what the hell was that?" while you studiously ignored her.

you pulled up your laptop, pretending to focus on the slides about project requirements and grading rubrics. but your attention kept drifting. you could feel it, that awareness of jake sitting several rows behind you. you wondered if he was taking notes. if his friends were grilling him. if his ears were still red.

you told yourself this was practical. logical. jake was skilled, focused, clearly knew his stuff. working with him made sense from a grades perspective, from an efficiency perspective. it was a smart choice. strategic, like you'd said.

but the justification felt thin even as you repeated it to yourself. because practical partnerships didn't make your pulse spike like this. strategic choices didn't leave you feeling weirdly breathless, or hyperaware of your phone in your pocket, waiting for a text that might come in an hour or a day. smart decisions didn't come with this flutter of satisfaction sitting warm and dangerous in your chest, the kind that felt unearned and a little reckless.

you'd just chosen jake over your actual friends for a semester-long project. you'd walked across the entire lecture hall in front of everyone to ask him specifically. you'd done it without planning it, without fully understanding why, acting on instinct alone.

your phone buzzed. you grabbed it maybe too quickly, ignoring yunjin's pointed look.

unknown number: hi, it's jake. from the lab? and also from just now. obviously. you know who i am. anyway this is my number. unknown number: we can meet whenever works for you btw. i'm pretty flexible. unknown number: sorry i'm rambling over text now apparently. i'll stop.

despite everything, despite the weirdness of the entire situation, you felt yourself smile. properly smile, which made yunjin lean over and whisper, "oh my god, you're blushing," which you absolutely were not.

you saved his number. typed out a response. deleted it. typed it again.

you: library tomorrow at 6?

his reply came almost instantly.

jake: perfect. i'll see you there.

yeah. perfect. that's exactly what this was.

you'd gotten there ten minutes early, which was ridiculous and you knew it, but you'd told yourself it was just to secure a good table. not because you were nervous. definitely not because you'd changed your shirt three times.

jake showed up at 6:02, slightly out of breath like he'd been rushing, backpack slung over one shoulder and hair even messier than usual. 

"sorry, sorry," he said, sliding into the chair across from you. "my last class ran over and then i couldn't find my charger and—" he stopped himself, ears going pink. "sorry. you don't need the full explanation. i'm here now."

"you're fine," you said, surprised by how much you meant it. "i just got here too."

it was a lie, but whatever.

he pulled out his laptop, a slightly battered thing covered in tech company stickers, and immediately opened what looked like a meticulously organised project folder. 

"so i was thinking we could start by breaking down the requirements," he said, already pulling up the assignment sheet. "if we divide it into modules we can work on different parts simultaneously and then integrate everything at the end. i made a rough outline last night, but obviously we can change whatever you want."

you blinked at him. "you made an outline? already?"

"i—yeah?" he looked uncertain suddenly, like he'd done something wrong. "was that—should i not have? i just thought it would be helpful to have a starting point, but if you wanted to plan it together—"

"no, that's—" you leaned closer to look at his screen, close enough that you could smell whatever soap or shampoo he used. something clean and faintly citrusy. "that's really good actually. you're like, super organised."

"oh." he pushed his glasses up, not quite meeting your eyes. "thanks. i just like having things structured, it makes the actual coding part less chaotic."

you shifted your chair around the table, closing the distance between you under the pretence of seeing his screen better. your knees almost touched under the table. jake didn't seem to notice, already walking you through his outline with the kind of focused enthusiasm that made his whole face more animated. he talked with his hands a little, you realised. small gestures that punctuated his explanations.

it was kind of endearing. he was kind of endearing, in this unpolished, genuine way that made you want to keep watching him talk even though you should probably be paying attention to the actual content of what he was saying.

"—so if we use that framework it'll save us a ton of time on the backend. does that make sense?" he glanced at you, expectant.

"yeah, totally," you said, even though you'd caught maybe half of it. "you're really good at this."

"at what?"

"explaining things. breaking stuff down." you let your voice soften deliberately, the kind of tone you'd use on someone you were interested in. testing. "you must be a really good TA."

jake's expression brightened with genuine pleasure, completely innocent. "oh, thanks! i really like teaching actually. it's really satisfying when something clicks for someone, you know?" he turned back to his laptop. "okay so for the first module, i was thinking we could—"

you felt something deflate slightly in your chest. he'd just. moved on. thanked you politely and redirected straight back to work like you'd commented on the weather.

you tried again twenty minutes later, when he'd finished explaining the database architecture. "seriously, how is your brain even wired like this?" you said, letting your hand rest on the table between you, close enough to his that moving a few inches would mean touching. "like, this would've taken me hours to figure out and you just see it."

"i mean, i've been coding since i was like twelve," jake said, smiling in that self-deprecating way that made your stomach flip. "my dad's a software engineer so i kind of grew up around it. you'd be just as good if you'd had the same exposure." 

he grabbed his water bottle, took a sip, completely oblivious to the way you were looking at him. "anyway, should we start on the initial setup? i can handle the repository if you want to draft the pseudocode for the first function?"

"sure," you said, trying not to sound as frustrated as you felt.

it continued like that. you'd find little ways to compliment him, to touch his arm when he said something funny, to lean into his space. and every single time jake would light up with friendly appreciation and then just. keep going. keep working. keep being nice in this utterly platonic way that was starting to drive you slightly insane.

when you suggested taking a break and offered to buy him coffee, he'd said "oh that's so sweet, but i'm good, i don't want to lose momentum." when you'd asked about his hobbies, trying to find some common ground beyond code, he'd given you a genuine answer about gaming and soccer and then immediately asked about your hobbies with the same earnest interest he gave to literally everything.

he wasn't being cold. wasn't being dismissive. he was just. friendly. sincerely friendly in a way that suggested he thought you were also just being friendly and nothing more. the idea that you might be flirting with him clearly hadn't even crossed his mind.

it shouldn't have bothered you. it was one study session. you barely knew him. but there was something about the way he was so completely unaffected that made you want to push harder, try more obviously, make him see you the way you were apparently seeing him.

which was insane. you were being insane.

"okay i think that's a good stopping point," jake said eventually, glancing at his phone. "we got through way more than i expected, honestly. you're really fast at this."

"we work well together," you said, maybe too much emphasis on the together part.

"yeah," he agreed easily, already packing up his stuff. "this is gonna be way less painful than i thought. usually group projects are a nightmare but i think we're pretty compatible."

compatible. he said it like he was talking about software versions.

you packed up your own stuff, trying to shake off whatever weird frustrated feeling had settled in your chest. this was good. you had a competent partner who was easy to work with. that's what mattered. not whether he noticed when you laughed at his jokes or sat closer than strictly necessary.

the library had gotten dark outside while you'd been working, the early winter darkness that feeking too heavy for eight pm. you pushed through the doors together, the cold air immediately biting at your face.

"which way are you headed?" jake asked, adjusting his backpack.

you pointed toward the east side of campus. "miller hall."

jake stopped walking. just fully stopped and stared at you. "wait, seriously?"

"yeah?"

"i'm in miller," he said, and his face did this thing, this open, delighted thing like you'd just told him something genuinely exciting. "i'm on the fourth floor. what floor are you?"

"third," you said, trying to keep your voice normal even though your brain was already racing ahead. same building. same building. you lived in the same building and you hadn't known. "that's—what are the odds?"

"i know, right?" jake fell into step beside you, and he seemed more relaxed now, less formal than he'd been in the library. "i can't believe we haven't run into each other before. though i guess i'm not around that much, i'm usually either in class or the lab or—" he laughed. "okay i'm making myself sound really boring."

"no you're not," you said, maybe too quickly. "i'm the same way. especially during midterms."

"the worst," he agreed. "hey, at least now if we need to meet up for the project it's super convenient. we can literally just knock on each other's doors."

he said it so casually. so normally, like it was just a nice logistical benefit and nothing more. meanwhile your mind was already cataloguing possibilities. you could time your meals to match his schedule. figure out when he usually left for class. find reasons to be in the common areas when he might pass through. it would look natural, coincidental. just friendly neighbors running into each other.

you were already strategising.

the realisation made something uncomfortable twist in your stomach. this was. this was too much maybe. you were thinking about him too much, cataloguing details about him like you were studying for an exam. getting frustrated when he didn't respond to your flirting even though you had no actual reason to expect him to. you'd had one late-night interaction and now one study session and somehow you were already rearranging your mental map of campus to accommodate his presence in it.

"you good?" jake asked, and you realised you'd gone quiet.

"yeah, just tired."

"same." he smiled at you, easy and warm. "thanks for picking me as your partner, by the way. i know you could've worked with your friends and i'm—i'm really glad you asked me instead. i think this is gonna be fun."

fun. he was looking forward to the project because he thought it would be fun. because he liked coding and teaching and he probably thought you were a cool person to work with. he was just. happy to have company. happy to make a new friend.

meanwhile you were over here planning imaginary coincidental run-ins and getting weirdly possessive over someone who didn't even know you liked him.

god, you were pathetic.

"yeah," you managed. "me too."

you reached miller hall, and jake held the door open for you, still talking about some technique he wanted to try for the project. you half-listened, watching the way his hair flopped over his forehead, the animated way he gestured when he got excited about something.

the elevator ride to your floor felt too short. jake got off with you, said he'd just walk up the extra flight of stairs for the exercise. "text me if you think of anything for the project," he said, already heading toward the stairwell. "or honestly just text me whenever. i'm always on my phone."

then he was gone, and you were standing alone in the hallway outside your door, feeling weirdly deflated and wired at the same time.

your phone buzzed before you'd even gotten your key out.

jake: forgot to say this but your idea for the UI was really smart. i think it's gonna make the whole thing way more intuitive. jake: ok NOW i'm done bothering you. have a good night!

you stared at the messages, that dangerous warm feeling spreading through your chest again. he'd texted you immediately to compliment your idea. with absolutely no prompting.

you were smiling at your phone like an idiot.

yeah. you were definitely pathetic.

"i'm just saying, he's clearly not interested," yunjin said, stabbing her salad with more force than necessary. "like, you've tried everything."

you were sitting in the dining hall, picking at your food while yunjin and beomgyu conducted what was essentially an intervention about your jake situation. an intervention you hadn't asked for and definitely didn't want.

"maybe he's just shy," you said, defensive.

beomgyu snorted. "shy guys still notice when someone's flirting with them. they just get weird about it. this guy sounds like he genuinely has no idea."

"which means he's not into you," yunjin added, gentler now. "and that's fine, you know? you can just be project partners. you don't have to keep torturing yourself."

except the thing was, you weren't entirely convinced jake wasn't interested. or maybe you just didn't want to accept it yet. because he texted you unprompted sometimes, sent you memes he thought you'd find funny, always smiled when he saw you in the hallway. that had to mean something, right?

"i'm not torturing myself," you muttered.

"you've mentioned him like fifteen times in the past hour," beomgyu pointed out.

"have not."

"you literally just told us about how he holds his pen. his pen."

okay. maybe you were torturing yourself a little.

you left the dining hall feeling irritated and restless, your friends' words circling in your head. he's not interested. he has no idea. you're torturing yourself. maybe they were right. probably they were right. you should just focus on the project, get a good grade, and move on like a normal person.

you were cutting through the student centre, not really paying attention to where you were going, when you passed the community bulletin board. the usual chaos of flyers and posters, study abroad programs, club meetings, someone selling a barely-used microwave. your eyes skimmed over it automatically, not really looking.

then you saw his name.

TUTORING AVAILABLE - COMP 101, 201, 301

patient, experienced, flexible schedule

contact: jake sim

there was a row of little tear-off tabs at the bottom with his phone number. several were already missing. the flyer itself was simple, almost plain. you stared at it. people flowed around you, conversations and footsteps and the ambient noise of the student centre, but you just stood there staring at jake's handwritten flyer.

you didn't need tutoring. your grades were fine. good, even. you and jake were in the same advanced class, for god's sake. he'd probably seen your test scores when he was TAing. this would be…obvious. wouldn't it? taking a tab would be transparent and desperate and—

your hand moved before you'd fully decided. the paper tore with a soft sound that felt too loud. you stared at the little strip in your palm, jake's number printed in his neat handwriting even though you already had it saved in your phone.

what were you doing?

you shoved the tab in your pocket and walked away quickly, like someone might have witnessed you doing something incriminating. your heart was beating too fast. this was insane. this was transparent. he was going to see right through it.

but.

but it was also legitimate, wasn't it? people got tutoring all the time, even when their grades were fine. wanting to understand the material better, wanting a different perspective, wanting to be extra prepared. those were all valid reasons. normal reasons. and yeah, maybe you had ulterior motives, but the cover story was solid enough that you could maintain plausible deniability. to him. to yourself.

you made it back to your dorm before you pulled out your phone.

you: hey! i saw your tutoring flyer in the student centre. do you still have availability?

you hit send before you could overthink it. then immediately started overthinking it anyway. he was going to ask why. he was going to point out that you clearly didn't need help. he was going to—

your phone buzzed.

jake<3: oh hey! yeah i have some slots open. but wait, aren't you doing pretty well in class? i've seen your test scores when i'm grading and you're like, consistently in the top range jake<3: not that you CAN'T get tutoring obviously! everyone can benefit from extra help jake<3: i just want to make sure you actually need it and aren't just being nice or something

god, he was even considerate about this. checking in to make sure you weren't wasting your time or money on something you didn't need. being thoughtful and genuine while you were over here manipulating the situation to manufacture more time with him.

you felt a twinge of something uncomfortable. guilt maybe. but you pushed it down.

you: i mean yeah my grades are okay, but i feel like i'm just memorising patterns without really UNDERSTANDING the concepts you know? like i can solve the problems but i couldn't explain WHY you: i just want to make sure i actually get it. especially since the material keeps building on itself

it wasn't entirely a lie. you did sometimes feel like you were pattern-matching your way through assignments. and deeper understanding was always good. these were reasonable concerns. the fact that they weren't your primary motivation didn't make them untrue.

jake<3: oh yeah that makes total sense actually. i see that a lot with students. they can execute but the underlying logic isn't solid jake<3: okay yeah we can definitely work on that! my rate is $20/hour but honestly for you i'd be happy to just do it for free? since we're already working together on the project anyway

you: no way i'm paying you. you're already helping me so much with the project

jake<3: the project is a two person thing, you're helping me just as much jake<3: but okay we can argue about payment later. when works for you?

you felt that warm, dangerous flutter again. he'd offered to tutor you for free. just casually, like it was no big deal. like spending extra time with you was something he actively wanted to do, even without compensation.

you: i'm pretty flexible. whenever you have time

jake<3: thursdays at 7? we could do the library again or somewhere on our floor if you want somewhere quieter jake<3: also i promise i'll actually TEACH and not just fix your code for you like last time lol

you smiled at your phone. somewhere on your floor. which meant his room or yours. which meant private, just the two of you, no other students around.

you: thursdays work for me! 

jake<3: cool! we can switch off. i'll bring snacks jake<3: this'll be fun :)

he'd sent a smiley face. an actual emoticon. it shouldn't have made your heart skip but it did.

you locked your phone and sat on your bed, that satisfaction settling warm in your chest. you'd done it. you'd created a legitimate, recurring excuse to see jake outside of project work. an hour a week, minimum, where you'd have his complete attention. where you could sit close to him in the privacy of a dorm room, help him help you, let those boundaries get just a little bit blurrier.

it was harmless. he was offering tutoring anyway, you were just taking him up on it. and yeah, maybe your motivations weren't entirely pure, but you weren't lying to him. not really. you did want to understand the material better. the fact that you also wanted to be around him more was just. additional context. secondary reasoning.

you were being smart about this, honestly. creating opportunities without being pushy. letting things develop naturally within structures that already existed.

you ignored the small, quiet voice in the back of your mind that whispered this was too much. that you were engineering situations and manufacturing proximity and maybe that wasn't as harmless as you wanted to believe. that jake was offering to help you in good faith while you had an agenda he knew nothing about.

you were good at ignoring that voice.

your phone buzzed again.

jake<3: btw i've been thinking about the database structure and i had an idea

and just like that you were smiling again, typing back, that uncomfortable feeling dissolving into something easier and warmer and more immediately gratifying.

it was fine. everything was fine. this was just tutoring. just spending time with someone you enjoyed being around. there was nothing wrong with that.

nothing wrong with it at all.

you'd been doing the tutoring sessions for three weeks when your roommate officially moved out. well, not officially officially. her stuff was still there, her side of the room still technically occupied. but she'd been spending every night at her boyfriend's off-campus apartment for the past month, and one day she just stopped pretending she was coming back.

"i'm still paying rent," she'd said, shoving clothes into a duffel bag. "so like, it's still my room. i'll probably crash here sometimes. but you basically have the place to yourself."

you'd nodded sympathetically while internally celebrating. your own space. privacy. no need to coordinate schedules or deal with her boyfriend's annoying habits. it was perfect.

it took you less than a day to realise it was perfect for other reasons too.

the next tutoring session was supposed to be in the library. thursday at seven, like always. but you'd been sitting in your empty apartment that afternoon, looking at your space with new eyes, and the idea had planted itself so naturally you'd almost convinced yourself it was practical.

you: hey, would you maybe want to do tutoring at my place tonight instead? my roommate moved in with her boyfriend so it's way quieter than the library you: totally fine if you prefer the library though!

the response took longer than usual. long enough that you started second-guessing yourself. maybe this was too much. too obvious. crossing some line from study partner into something else.

jake<3: oh jake<3: um jake<3: yeah that's fine. if you're sure? jake<3: i don't want to like. intrude or anything jake<3: but yeah quieter is definitely better for focusing

you: you're not intruding i literally invited you haha you: i'm in 3B. just come by at 7

jake<3: okay! see you then

you spent the next two hours in a cleaning frenzy you absolutely did not want to examine too closely. you weren't trying to impress him. you just wanted the place to look nice and presentable. the fact that you changed your clothes twice and lit a candle that made the whole apartment smell like vanilla and sandalwood was just. coincidence.

the knock came at exactly seven. jake was annoyingly punctual.

you opened the door to find him standing in the hallway looking uncertain, backpack slung over one shoulder, holding a bag of chips. "hi," he said. "i brought snacks. i didn't know what you liked so i just got the variety pack."

"you didn't have to do that."

"i know, but—" he shifted his weight. "i don't know, it felt weird showing up empty-handed."

you stepped back to let him in, watching as he moved into your space with obvious hesitation. he didn't walk in so much as carefully entered, like he was worried about disturbing something. his eyes went immediately to your walls, taking in the art prints you'd hung, the string lights, the bookshelf crammed with novels and textbooks. then to your desk setup, the small kitchen area, the couch that your roommate had left behind.

"wow," he said quietly. "this is. really nice."

"it's just a dorm apartment."

"no, i know, but—" he gestured vaguely at everything. "it's decorated. like, actually decorated. my place looks like a prison cell compared to this." he was still standing near the door, like he hadn't fully committed to being here. "is that an original print?"

you glanced at the framed artwork he was pointing at. "yeah. local artist. i got it at a campus market thing."

"it's really cool." he finally took a few more steps inside, setting his backpack down carefully on the floor like he was afraid it might scuff something. his attention caught on your kitchen counter, where you'd left out the fancy coffee you'd bought yesterday. the expensive cheese and crackers. the fruit you'd pre-cut and arranged in a bowl because apparently you were that person now.

jake went quiet for a second. then he laughed, but it sounded a little uncomfortable. "okay i have to ask. are you like, rich?"

you felt your face heat. "what? no."

"because this—" he gestured at your apartment again, at the candle burning on your coffee table, the throw blanket artfully draped over your couch, the general aesthetic coherence of the space. "this seems like. i don't know. very put together for a college student."

"i just like my space to feel nice," you said, defensive. "there's nothing wrong with that."

"no, definitely not! i didn't mean—" he ran a hand through his hair, flustered. "i just meant. my room has like, a bed and a desk and some clothes on the floor. this looks like an apartment from a magazine. in a good way," he added quickly. "it's impressive. i'm just. you know. mildly intimidated."

"don't be intimidated," you said, softer now. trying for casual. "seriously, make yourself comfortable. do you want something to drink? i have coffee, tea, juice, those fancy sparkling waters—"

"you have fancy sparkling water?"

"they were on sale."

they were absolutely not on sale. you'd bought them specifically because you remembered jake mentioning he liked trying different flavours. but he didn't need to know that.

"um, sure. i'll try one." he was still standing awkwardly in the middle of your living room, like he couldn't figure out where he was allowed to exist.

you grabbed two cans from the fridge, handing him one and gesturing toward the couch. "we can work there if you want. or the desk. whatever's comfortable."

"couch is good," he said, finally sitting down and immediately looking slightly less tense. he opened the sparkling water, took a sip, and made a surprised noise. "oh this is actually really good."

"told you." you sat next to him, closer than you would have in the library. not touching, but close enough that you could feel the warmth of him next to you. close enough that when he leaned forward to pull his laptop out of his backpack, you caught that familiar scent of soap and citrus.

he pulled up the lesson he'd prepared, something about optimisation algorithms, and fell into his teaching rhythm. you'd noticed this about jake before. when he was explaining code, he became more confident. less apologetic. his hands moved as he talked, tracing invisible diagrams in the air, and his whole face became more animated.

you were trying to focus. really, you were. but you kept getting distracted by the fact that he was here, in your space, sitting on your couch. his knee bumped yours at one point and he apologised even though it was barely contact. you told him it was fine. his handwriting was neat when he sketched out examples in your notebook. he had a small scar on his left hand you'd never noticed before.

"are you following?" he asked, glancing over at you.

"yeah," you said, snapping back to attention. "sorry. just thinking."

"it's kind of a dense topic," he said, apologetic again. "we can take a break if you need."

"no, keep going. you're good at this."

something in his expression softened. "thanks. i—i actually really like doing this. the tutoring, i mean. it's nice having someone to talk through concepts with who actually cares about understanding them properly." he paused, looking around your apartment again like he was seeing it with fresh eyes. "and this is. yeah. this is better than the library for sure."

"yeah?"

"the library's always so loud, even in the quiet sections. and people keep interrupting to ask if they can take chairs from our table." he settled back into your couch slightly, his shoulders loosening. "this is way better. i can actually think here."

you felt that dangerous satisfaction bloom in your chest. this is better. i can actually think here. he was comfortable. in your space. comfortable enough to relax, to take up room, to exist without that careful hesitation he'd had when he first arrived.

"we should do all our sessions here," you said, trying to sound casual. "if you're cool with it."

jake glanced at you, then around the apartment again. for a second you thought he might question it. might recognise this for what it was. but then he just smiled, easy and genuine. "yeah, i'd like that. this is really nice."

"cool," you said. your heart was doing that annoying fluttery thing again.

you went back to the lesson, jake's voice steady and patient as he walked you through increasingly complex problems. his knee stayed pressed against yours. he'd stopped apologising for taking up space. he reached for the fancy crackers you'd set out without asking if it was okay first, just casual and comfortable like he belonged here.

and god help you, you liked seeing him like this. liked having him in your space, surrounded by your things, relaxed and focused and entirely unaware of how much thought you'd put into creating this exact scenario.

he was more comfortable here than he should be. settling into your life with an ease that should have alarmed you but instead just made you want to pull him deeper.

you were playing a game he didn't know existed. creating intimacy in careful increments. manufacturing closeness that felt organic to him but was entirely designed by you.

"okay your turn," jake said, pushing your laptop toward you. "try implementing that function we just talked through."

you pulled the computer into your lap, fingers moving over the keys, hyper-aware of jake watching. of his presence next to you, patient and encouraging. of how easy it would be to let this become routine. thursday nights on your couch, just the two of you, the rest of the world locked outside.

professor kim handed back midterms on a wednesday, and the energy in the lecture hall was exactly what you'd expect. nervous shuffling, people immediately comparing scores, that girl in the front row who always cried regardless of her grade already tearing up.

you flipped your exam over and saw the 100 staring back at you. perfect score. you felt a flush of satisfaction that had nothing to do with the grade itself and everything to do with the fact that jake would see it.

"holy shit," yunjin whispered, leaning over to look. "you got a perfect score?"

"apparently."

"that's insane. i got an 87 and i thought i did well." she shook her head, impressed and maybe slightly annoyed. "what did jake think? he must be so proud, that's basically a direct result of his tutoring."

speaking of jake, he was two rows behind you, and you could hear his friends' voices carrying.

"dude, you got a 98," one of them said. "that's insane."

"i missed this one question," jake said, and he sounded genuinely disappointed. "i can't believe i mixed up the time complexity."

you turned around without really thinking about it, catching his eye. he was already looking at you, and his face did this thing, this hopeful uncertain thing. "how'd you do?"

you held up your exam. his eyes widened.

"you got a hundred?" he said it loud enough that a few people glanced over. then he was standing up, moving past his friends, coming down to your row with his exam still in his hand. "holy shit, that's—that's amazing. you—" he stopped himself, looking almost embarrassed by his own enthusiasm. "sorry, i'm like. weirdly excited about this."

"don't apologise," you said, smiling despite yourself. "you sound more excited than i am."

"because i—" he gestured at your exam, then at you. "you understood it. like really understood it. i could tell during our sessions that things were clicking but seeing it actually translate to a perfect score is just—" he ran his hand through his hair, grinning in a way that made your stomach flip. "i'm really proud of you."

the words hit you weird. i'm proud of you. said with such genuine warmth, such unironic sincerity. like your success was somehow his success too. like he was personally invested in your performance because he'd helped you get there.

except you hadn't really needed the help. you'd manufactured the entire situation. you'd been doing fine before the tutoring started and you'd probably have gotten a perfect score regardless. jake's proud smile was based on a false premise. he thought he'd helped you achieve something when really you'd just. used him. used his time and his patience and his genuine desire to help people, all so you could sit close to him once a week.

something uncomfortable twisted in your chest. you shoved it down.

"i couldn't have done it without you," you said, because that's what you were supposed to say. what he expected to hear. even if it made you feel slightly sick.

"i know, i know. it's a good grade. i just hate making careless mistakes." he smiled at you again, softer this time. "but seriously, i'm really happy for you. you worked really hard for this."

"we should celebrate," you said, before you could second-guess it. "both of us. good scores, successful tutoring, whatever. come over tonight? i'll make dinner, we can watch a movie. my treat, as a thank you."

jake hesitated, just for a second. "you don't have to thank me."

"i want to," you said firmly with a smile. "you've been helping me for weeks and not accepting any payment. the least i can do is feed you."

"when you put it that way." he was smiling again, that easy smile that made your heart do stupid things. "yeah, okay. what time?"

"seven?"

"perfect."

...

you went slightly overboard with dinner. not crazy overboard, just. more effort than was strictly necessary for a casual thank-you meal. homemade pasta, the good parmesan, a salad that actually had more than three ingredients. you'd also bought wine, which felt very adult and sophisticated until you remembered you were literally just having your study partner over.

jake showed up at seven on the dot, holding a bag of cookies from the expensive bakery near campus. "i know you said your treat, but i can't show up empty-handed," he explained, handing them over. "it's like, physically impossible for me."

"you're ridiculous."

"i've been told." he stepped inside, immediately more comfortable than he'd been that first time. he knew where to put his shoes now, where to set his bag. he went straight for the couch like he belonged there.

dinner was easy. conversation flowed naturally, jumping from classes to campus gossip to a debate about whether the dining hall pizza was underrated or genuinely terrible. jake argued passionately for underrated, gesturing with his fork, getting sauce on his chin that he didn't notice until you pointed it out. he laughed, embarrassed, wiping it away.

"wine?" you offered, after you'd cleared the plates.

"oh, um. sure?" he looked uncertain. "i'm not really a big drinker."

"me neither. but we're celebrating, right?"

"right." he accepted the glass you poured, taking a small sip and making a face. "god, why do people like this? it tastes like someone made juice go bad on purpose."

you laughed despite yourself. "it's an acquired taste."

"that's what people say about things that are objectively bad." but he took another sip anyway, settling back into the couch as you pulled up netflix.

you ended up on some action movie neither of you had seen, the kind with improbable stunts and a plot that didn't require much attention. which was good, because you weren't really watching it. you were too aware of jake next to you, closer than he needed to be, his shoulder occasionally brushing yours. he'd finished his wine faster than you expected and seemed looser now, more animated. he kept making commentary on the movie, pointing out plot holes and questionable physics, his hands moving as he talked.

"—and there's no way that building would still be structurally sound after that explosion," he was saying, gesturing at the screen. "like, basic engineering, you know?"

"you're thinking too hard about it."

"i can't help it. my brain won't turn off." he glanced at you, something warm in his expression. "this is nice though. just hanging out. we're always studying or talking about the project, it's cool to just…exist. without an agenda."

without an agenda. the words hit harder than they should have. because you did have an agenda. you'd had one this entire time. this whole evening was carefully constructed, from the homemade dinner to the wine to the deliberately casual intimacy of it all.

"yeah," you managed. "it's nice."

the movie continued. jake shifted closer, his thigh pressing against yours. you didn't move away. his arm ended up along the back of the couch, not quite around your shoulders but close enough that you could feel the warmth of it. neither of you acknowledged it, but neither of you adjusted either.

"can i ask you something?" jake said during a particularly slow part of the movie.

"sure."

"why did you pick me? for the project, i mean." he was looking at you now instead of the screen, his expression curious and open. "you could've worked with your friends. people you already knew. but you walked all the way across the lecture hall to ask me."

your heart kicked up. "i told you. you're good at this stuff."

"yeah, but." he paused, like he was trying to figure out how to phrase something. "it felt like. i don't know. like you went out of your way. and i've been trying to figure out if i'm reading too much into it or if there was something else."

the air felt suddenly thinner. "something else like what?"

"i don't know." he laughed, self-conscious. "i'm probably being weird. forget i said anything."

"jake."

"i just—" he met your eyes, and there was something vulnerable in his expression that made your breath catch. "i really like spending time with you. like, more than i probably should for someone who's just a project partner and tutoring student. and sometimes i think maybe you. i don't know, feel the same? but i'm also really bad at reading these things so i'm probably completely wrong."

oh. oh.

"you're not wrong," you said quietly.

his eyes widened slightly. "i'm not?"

instead of answering, you leaned in. gave him enough time to pull back, to stop this, but he didn't. he met you halfway, his lips soft and uncertain against yours. for a second neither of you moved, the kiss chaste and almost careful. then something shifted. his hand came up to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone, and you pressed closer, your fingers curling into his shirt.

jake made a soft sound against your mouth, surprise or maybe pleasure, and kissed you back with more confidence. his other hand found your waist, tentative at first then firmer, pulling you closer. you ended up in his lap somehow, his hands spanning your back, your fingers threading through his hair. he tasted like wine and something sweet from the cookies he'd brought.

"is this okay?" he whispered against your lips, breathing hard.

"yes," you said, and kissed him again before he could second-guess it.

his hands moved under your shirt, warm against your skin, and you felt him shiver when you rolled your hips experimentally. "god," he breathed, sounding almost pained. "we should—are we really—"

"do you want to stop?"

"no. god, no. i just—" he looked up at you, pupils blown, lips kiss-swollen. "i didn't think this would happen. i'm not. i don't usually."

"it's okay," you said softly, meaning it. "we don't have to do anything you don't want."

jake didn’t stop you. instead, he seemed to melt into the contact, his hands trembling as they slid further up your back, skin hot through the thin fabric of your shirt. when you moved to guide him off the couch and onto the rug, he followed with a sort of dazed compliance, his glasses slightly askew on his face.

you knelt between his legs, and the shift in atmosphere was immediate. the movie was still playing—some distant sound of tires screeching—but all you could hear was the ragged, uneven hitch of jake’s breath. when you reached for the button of his jeans, his hand flew to your wrist, not to stop you, but just to steady himself. his knuckles were white.

"are you sure?" he whispered, his voice cracking. "i—i'm not... i don't want to mess this up. our project, the tutoring... i don't want to make things weird for you."

"jake," you said, looking up at him through your lashes. "shut up and let me."

he let out a shaky, half-strangled laugh, his head hitting the base of the couch as he let go of your wrist. "okay. okay, yeah. shutting up."

as you eased his jeans down, you realised the lanky, awkward way he carried himself in the halls was a massive deception. he was built with a surprising, heavy sturdiness that the oversized hoodies always hid. his legs were long, his thighs thick with the kind of muscle that suggested he actually did play soccer as more than just a hobby. and when you finally freed him, you couldn't help the small, sharp intake of breath that escaped you.

"jake," you breathed, your eyes widening. "holy..."

he groaned, the sound vibrating deep in his chest, and covered his eyes with his forearm. "don't. don't look at me like that. i know. i'm sorry, is it... is it too much? i can—"

"it's perfect," you cut him off, reaching out to touch him. his skin was searing, and the moment your fingers closed around him, his entire body jolted like he’d been hit with a live wire.

when you leaned forward to take him into your mouth, jake’s reaction was explosive. he arched off the floor, his fingers tangling desperately in your hair, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. he was so sensitive, so completely overwhelmed by the sensation that it felt like he was losing his grip on reality.

"oh god," he choked out, his voice high and strained. "wait, wait—that's—you’re so... the pressure, i can't—"

you didn't slow down. you liked the way he lost his composure, the way the articulate, logical TA was reduced to incoherent stutters. you used your hands to keep him steady, your tongue swirling around the head of him, and jake’s hips began to move in a frantic, uncoordinated rhythm. he was trying to keep some semblance of control, trying to stay "polite," but the sheer intensity of it was breaking him.

"i'm gonna... i'm actually gonna..." he gasped, his hands tightening in your hair, pulling you closer until he was practically burying himself in you. "please, don't stop. don't stop, just like that—right there—"

he hit his limit with a loud, guttural shout that was muffled only by the back of his hand as he bit down on his own knuckles to stay quiet. his body went rigid, muscles in his arms and chest standing out in sharp relief as he came, the force of it leaving him limp and shuddering against the couch.

it took him a long time to come back down. for several minutes, the only sound in the room was his heavy, labouring breath and the flickering light of the tv. you pulled back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, feeling a fierce, glowing sense of triumph. he looked completely wrecked—hair a disaster, glasses hanging off one ear, chest heaving.

you felt powerful. you’d spent weeks engineering this, calculating every move, and seeing him like this—totally undone by you—was better than any perfect exam score.

"you okay?" you asked, leaning your chin on his knee.

jake let out a long, shaky exhale, finally moving his arm to look at you. his eyes were hazy, his face flushed a deep, beautiful red. "i... think my brain just short-circuited," he whispered, a small, dazed smile tugging at his lips. 

"in a good way?"

"in the best way." he reached out, his fingers trembling as he tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. "thank you. seriously. i don't—i don't even know what to say."

you smiled, leaning into his touch. the apartment was warm, the air still smelling of vanilla. "you don't have to say anything. you should just stay."

the words were soft, natural. it felt like the obvious next step. but the second they left your mouth, you felt the shift.

it was subtle at first—the way jake’s fingers went still against your skin. then his pupils, which had been blown wide with pleasure, suddenly constricted. he blinked, the haziness clearing as his internal "problem-solving mode" kicked back in with a vengeance.

"stay?" he repeated, his voice sounding suddenly small.

"yeah. it's late, and it's cold out. just stay over. we can... i don't know, wake up and have coffee. maybe look at the project again."

jake’s eyes darted toward his hands, then to his backpack, then to the door. the relaxation in his shoulders vanished, replaced by a rigid, frantic tension. he looked like he’d just realised he was standing in the middle of a minefield.

"i—" he started, scrambling to pull his jeans up. he was moving so fast he almost tripped over his own feet. "i can't. i mean, i should... i have that grading to finish. for kim. and i—i didn't bring my toothbrush. or my meds. and my roommate, he—he'll wonder where i am. he gets worried."

"jake, it’s fine, you can borrow—"

"no!" he said, a bit too loudly. he was fumbling with his belt, his fingers shaking so badly he could barely loop it through. he wouldn't look at you. his face wasn't flushed with pleasure anymore; it was pale, his expression twisted into something that looked dangerously like panic. "no, i really should go. i’m sorry. i just... i realised the time. i have to go."

you stood up, feeling a cold, hollow pit open in your stomach. "did i do something wrong? was it... was it too much?"

"no! no, it was... it was amazing," he said, finally getting his shoes on, not even bothering to tie the laces. he grabbed his backpack, clutching it to his chest like a shield. "it was too amazing. that's the... that's the problem. i'm—i'm not good at this. i think i need to... i need to think. logically. about the implications."

"the implications?" you asked, your voice rising with a sharp, hurt edge. "it was just a night, jake. it doesn't have to be a 'logical problem' to solve."

"i know, i know. i'm sorry. i’m just... i'm a mess." he backed toward the door, his hand fumbling for the handle behind his back. "i'll text you? about the project? we still have that deadline on tuesday."

"jake—"

"goodnight! thank you for dinner. the pasta was really... the texture was perfect. okay. bye."

he practically fell out of the door, the sound of his hurried footsteps echoing down the hallway as he sprinted toward the stairs.

the click of the door closing felt final. you stood in the centre of your perfectly decorated, candle-lit apartment, surrounded by the remnants of the dinner you’d spent hours on. the half-empty wine glasses, the bag of expensive cookies, the rumpled rug.

you felt a hot, stinging prickle behind your eyes. you’d done everything right. you’d been strategic, patient, and kind. you’d gotten him to open up, to trust you, to want you. and yet, watching him run away like you were a bug in his code—something to be deleted or fixed—hurt more than any midterm failure ever could.

you sat back down on the couch, the silence of the room suddenly feeling just as oppressive as it had back in the computer lab. you picked up your phone, looking at his last text. this'll be fun :)

you threw the phone onto the cushions and buried your face in your hands, the smell of his citrus shampoo still clinging to your skin, mocking you.

jake didn't text.

you stared at your phone for the entire next day, watching the screen like you could will a message into existence. the "i'll text you" he'd thrown over his shoulder before fleeing felt increasingly like a polite lie. by saturday afternoon you broke first.

you: hey, you okay?

the message sat there. delivered, but no response.

you tried again sunday morning, going for casual.

you: still on for project work this week?

still no response.

by monday you'd moved past confusion into something that felt uncomfortably like panic. this wasn't how things worked. people didn't just. stop responding to you. they didn't ignore you or avoid you or remove you from their orbit like you were some problem to be managed. you were used to being wanted, pursued, the one who had to let people down gently. this reversed dynamic was unfamiliar and honestly humiliating.

you saw him in the dining hall on tuesday. he was with his friends, laughing at something one of them said, looking completely normal. like nothing had happened. like he hadn't been on your couch four days ago falling apart under your touch.

you started walking toward their table before you could think better of it, but jake's eyes flicked up, met yours for a fraction of a second, and then he was standing, gathering his tray, saying something to his friends. they all got up and left. just. left. walked out the side exit while you stood there holding your lunch like an idiot.

yunjin grabbed your arm. "okay, what the hell was that?"

"nothing," you said, but your voice came out wrong. 

"that was not nothing. did something happen with you and jake?"

"no. i don't know. it's complicated."

it wasn't complicated. it was actually pretty simple. you'd pushed too hard and now he wanted nothing to do with you.

wednesday he wasn't in his usual spot in lecture. you spent the entire class scanning the room, finally spotting him in the very back corner, a place he'd never sat before. he kept his eyes on his laptop the entire time, didn't look up once. when class ended he was the first one out the door.

thursday was supposed to be tutoring. seven pm, his room or yours, the standing appointment you'd had for weeks now. you waited in your apartment, laptop open to the half-finished project, telling yourself he'd show up. he was responsible and dedicated. he wouldn't just bail without saying anything.

seven came and went. then seven-thirty. by eight you accepted he wasn't coming.

you: are we still working together on the project? i need to know so i can plan accordingly.

again, no response.

friday morning you were walking to class when you saw him ahead of you on the path. for once he hadn't spotted you first. you sped up, closing the distance, and watched in real time as he seemed to sense your presence. his shoulders tensed. then he took a sharp left turn down a path that definitely wasn't toward any of his classes. he was actively avoiding you. taking different routes. altering his entire routine just to not run into you.

something hot and humiliated burned in your chest.

by next week, you'd had enough. you knew his schedule. knew he had algorithms right before lunch on mondays, in the engineering building, third floor. you positioned yourself outside the classroom before class ended, ignoring the curious looks from other students filing out. you spotted jake immediately when the doors opened. he saw you at the same moment and actually stopped walking, causing someone behind him to bump into his back.

"we need to talk," you said.

"i have—i need to get to—"

"jake." your voice came out sharper than intended. "five minutes. please."

something in his expression shifted. resignation maybe. he nodded once, following you to an empty study room down the hall. you closed the door. the small space suddenly felt suffocating.

"you've been ignoring me," you said.

"i know."

"for a week. you didn't text, you didn't show up to tutoring, you're literally avoiding me on campus."

"i know," he said again, quieter. he wasn't looking at you, his eyes fixed somewhere around your shoulder. "i'm sorry. that wasn't— i should have communicated better."

"so communicate now. what's going on?"

jake was quiet for a long moment. when he finally spoke, his voice was careful. measured. "what happened last week. that crossed a line for me."

"we both wanted it."

"did we?" he looked at you now, and there was something in his expression that made your stomach drop. "because i've been thinking about it a lot. about how we got there. and i feel like. i don't know. like maybe i missed something."

"what do you mean?"

"the tutoring," he said. "you didn't actually need it, did you? your grades were already good. and the project. you had friends you could have worked with. people you actually knew. but you picked me." he paused. "why did you pick me?"

the question hung in the air between you. you could lie. deflect. but something about the way he was looking at you, patient and a little sad, made it feel pointless.

"i liked you," you said finally. "i wanted to spend time with you."

"okay." he nodded slowly. "so the tutoring was. what. an excuse? a way to manufacture time together?"

"it wasn't like that."

"wasn't it though?" there was no anger in his voice. just. tiredness. "because from my perspective, i thought i was helping someone who needed help. i thought we were becoming friends. and then suddenly we're… doing that. and i'm trying to figure out when the shift happened and i can't. because maybe there was no shift. maybe that's what you wanted the whole time and i just didn't see it."

"i did want to be your friend," you said, defensive now. "i wasn't. it's not like i was using you."

"weren't you?"

the words hit harder than they should have. because he wasn't wrong. you had used him. used his kindness, his eagerness to help, his complete inability to see through your motivations. you'd engineered situations and manufactured proximity and told yourself it was harmless.

"i like you," jake said, and somehow that made it worse. "i really do. but i feel. god, i don't even know how to explain it. exposed? like you saw something in me that made me an easy target and you just. went for it. and i didn't even realise what was happening until it had already happened."

"that's not—"

"and the thing is," he continued, talking over you gently, "you're so far out of my league. like, objectively. you're smart and pretty and confident and you have your shit together. and i'm just. me. i'm awkward and i ramble and i spend friday nights debugging code for fun. so the fact that you were interested never made sense. i kept waiting for it to click, for me to understand why, and now i think i do. it wasn't about me. it was about. i don't know. the chase? the conquest? i was a project to you."

"no," you said, but your voice came out weak. "jake, that's not true. you weren't a project."

"then what was i?"

you didn't have an answer. or you did, but it was complicated and messy and saying it out loud would mean admitting things you didn't want to admit.

jake sighed. "i'm not trying to be cruel. i'm really not. but being around you right now makes me feel uncomfortable. like i can't trust my own judgement because i didn't see any of this coming. and that's. that's my issue to work through. but i need space to do it."

"what about the class project?"

"we can do it over email. divide up the work, combine it at the end. we don't have to see each other."

"and tutoring?"

"i think we should stop. you don't actually need it anyway."

each sentence felt like a door closing. practical, reasonable, and completely final.

"i'm sorry," you said, and meant it. "i didn't mean to. i wasn't trying to hurt you."

"i know," jake said, and he sounded sincere. "i don't think you set out to do anything malicious. i just think you didn't really consider how it would feel from my side. and now we're here."

"so that's it? we just stop talking?"

"for now, yeah. maybe later we can be normal around each other. but right now i need. distance."

he moved toward the door, his hand on the handle. you wanted to say something, anything that would fix this. some argument that would make him see you differently. but looking at his face, at the quiet certainty there, you knew there was nothing you could say. he'd made up his mind. he'd set a boundary. and you had no choice but to respect it.

"i really am sorry," you said again.

"i know," jake said. "me too."

then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him with that same horrible finality. you stood there in the empty study room, staring at the space where he'd been.

you couldn't even argue with his reasoning. everything he'd said was true. you had manufactured situations. you had used his kindness and his obliviousness to get what you wanted. you'd told yourself it was harmless, that your feelings were real even if your methods were questionable.

but intent didn't matter when the impact was someone feeling manipulated and exposed.

you left the study room feeling hollowed out. the campus looked the same. people laughed and talked and went about their days. somewhere out there jake was probably headed to lunch with his friends, relieved to have finally said what he needed to say.

and you were just. alone. with the sharp realisation that you'd ruined something before it even had a chance to be real.

the party was exactly the kind of loud, chaotic mess you needed. bass thrumming through the floors, bodies packed into every available space, the air thick with sweat and cheap alcohol and too many competing perfumes. yunjin had dragged you here, insisting you needed to "get out of your head" after moping around for two weeks straight.

so here you were. red cup in hand, smile fixed in place, laughing at jokes you weren't really hearing. performing normalcy while your brain kept circling the same thoughts on loop. jake's face in that study room. the careful way he'd said i need space. the hollow feeling that had taken up permanent residence in your chest.

"you good?" beomgyu asked, leaning close to be heard over the music.

"yeah, great," you said automatically, taking another drink.

you were on your third. or fourth. you'd stopped counting. the alcohol sat warm in your stomach but hadn't managed to quiet your thoughts yet. maybe if you drank enough you'd stop replaying every conversation with jake, analysing every moment for signs you'd missed, evidence of how thoroughly you'd fucked everything up.

"i'm gonna get another drink," you said to no one in particular, pushing through the crowd toward the kitchen.

that's when you saw him.

jake. standing near the makeshift bar someone had set up on the counter, red cup in hand, talking to a girl you didn't recognise. and he was laughing. actually laughing, head thrown back, completely at ease in a way that made something hot and ugly twist in your chest.

because he never looked like that with you. even before everything went wrong, even during those tutoring sessions in your apartment when you'd thought you were building something real, he'd always been slightly careful and polite, like he was containing himself. but now he was loose and animated, gesturing with his free hand while the girl laughed at whatever he was saying, her hand resting on his arm.

her hand was on his arm.

you watched as she leaned closer, saying something that made jake grin. that specific grin, the one where his eyes crinkled at the corners and you could see his perfect teeth on display. you'd thought that smile was special. something you'd earned. but apparently he was just like this, with everyone who wasn't you.

the jealousy hit so hard it felt physical. burning through your chest, turning your vision sharp and focused. you were moving before you'd decided to, weaving through people, your jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

jake saw you coming. his smile faltered, something uncertain crossing his face. "hey—"

"who's this?" you said, gesturing at the girl. your voice came out sharper than you'd intended, heavy with something you couldn't quite name.

the girl looked between you and jake, confused. "i'm mina. jungwon's sister remember? we just met like ten minutes ago."

"oh right." you focused on jake, ignoring her entirely. "you look like you're having fun."

"i—yeah?" jake's eyebrows drew together. "it's a party?"

"funny how you can make time for parties but couldn't respond to any of my texts about the assignment."

"i told you we could do it over email—"

"is that what you're doing right now? project work?" you knew you sounded irrational, accusatory, but you couldn't stop. the words kept spilling out, poisoned by alcohol and jealousy and two weeks of feeling like you'd been the only one affected by any of this. 

"or are you just. moving on? found someone new to—"

"okay, i'm gonna go," mina said, backing away with her hands up. "this seems like. a thing. nice meeting you, jake."

she disappeared into the crowd. jake stared at you, his expression shifting from confused to something harder. "what the hell was that?"

"you tell me. you've been ignoring me for two weeks and now you're here flirting with random girls?"

"flirting?" jake's voice pitched up slightly. "flirting? i was literally just talking to her. she asked where the bathroom was and then we started chatting about the music. that's—that's not flirting, that's called being polite."

"she had her hand on your arm."

"so?" jake looked genuinely baffled now. "people touch arms when they talk. that doesn't mean anything. and even if it did—" he stopped himself, jaw tightening. "i don't owe you an explanation. you don't get to. we're not together. we're not anything."

the words hit exactly where they were meant to. "right. because you decided we're not."

"no, because you decided we weren't, like a month ago when you started playing games instead of just being honest." his voice was rising now, frustration bleeding through. "and now you're mad because i'm talking to someone else? you don't get to do that. you don't get to manipulate me into something and then act possessive when i try to move on."

"i'm not—" you started, but stopped. because he was right. you were being possessive and irrational. reading intent into a harmless conversation because you wanted there to be something there. wanted confirmation that jake was thinking about you as much as you were thinking about him.

but he wasn't. he was just living his life. talking to people at parties. laughing easily with strangers. completely unaffected while you spiralled.

"i wasn't flirting with her," jake said, quieter now. tired. "i was just being friendly. that's what normal people do. they don't engineer entire relationships or manufacture situations. they just exist around each other."

"i know," you said, your voice coming out smaller than you wanted. "i'm sorry. i shouldn't have. that was out of line."

jake nodded once, already turning away. "yeah. it was."

you watched him disappear back into the crowd, leaving you standing alone by the kitchen counter. your hands were shaking. you downed the rest of your drink in one go, the burn doing nothing to quiet the noise in your head.

you'd just proven everything he'd said about you. possessive. manipulative. unable to let go. you'd projected your own feelings onto a completely innocent interaction and made a scene because you couldn't handle seeing him okay when you were so thoroughly not okay.

you'd been so certain. so sure he was flirting, that the girl meant something, that you'd caught him in some kind of lie. but you'd been wrong. completely, embarrassingly wrong. because you didn't actually know what jake was thinking. you never had. you'd just assumed, projected, filled in the gaps with your own narrative.

and now he was probably telling his friends what a psycho you were. probably regretting he'd ever let you into his life in the first place.

you grabbed another drink.

…

the party had devolved into that late-night haze where everything blurred together. people you didn't recognise, conversations you weren't part of, music that had gotten somehow both quieter and more invasive. you'd lost track of yunjin and beomgyu somewhere around drink number six. or seven. the room tilted slightly when you moved too fast.

you were trying to find your jacket, ready to call it a night, when you spotted him. jake. sitting alone on a couch in the corner, looking absolutely exhausted. his head kept drooping forward like he was fighting to stay conscious, then jerking back up. his eyes were half-closed, his usual careful posture completely abandoned.

you should walk past him. nothing good could come from another interaction tonight. you'd already embarrassed yourself once. but your feet carried you closer anyway, some magnetic pull you couldn't quite resist even knowing it was a bad idea.

you were almost past him when his hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your wrist. "don't," he said, not looking at you. his voice was rough, slurred slightly. "don't leave."

you stopped. "jake—"

"been trying," he mumbled, his grip loosening but not releasing. "trying so hard. but you make it impossible."

"what are you talking about?"

he finally looked up at you, and his eyes were unfocused, glassy with alcohol. "you. i'm talking about you. can't stop thinking about you. it's driving me insane."

your heart lurched. "you're drunk."

"i know but so are you," he said, like that explained everything. "that's the only reason i'm saying this. because sober me knows better. sober me has self-control and boundaries and all that shit." he pulled gently on your wrist, making you stumble slightly closer. "but drunk me is tired. so tired of pretending i don't want you."

"you said you needed space."

"i do need space. because when i'm around you i can't think straight. i can't trust myself." his words were coming out uneven, tripping over each other. "you think i was avoiding you because i was mad? i was avoiding you because if i saw you i'd—" he made a frustrated noise. "i'd do something stupid. like this. this is stupid."

you sat down next to him, his hand still wrapped around your wrist. "jake—"

"you're so pretty," he said, almost accusatory. "and you smell good. and you're smart, like actually smart, not just good at school. and when you laugh it's. it does things to me. and i hate it. i hate that you have this much power over me when i don't even know if you actually like me or if i'm just… convenient."

"i do like you," you said quietly. "i've liked you the whole time."

"but do you?" he turned to face you more fully, his eyes searching yours even though he seemed to be having trouble focusing. "or do you like the idea of me? the nerdy guy you can manipulate? your little project?"

"that's not—" you stopped. "it wasn't like that. it's not like that."

"then what is it like?" he was still holding your wrist, his thumb pressing against your pulse point. "because i've been trying to figure it out for weeks and i can't. i can't understand why you'd want me. what you get out of this. and maybe i'm just stupid but i need you to tell me. plainly. what do you want from me?"

"you," you said, the word coming out more honest than you'd intended. "just. you."

jake laughed, bitter and tired. "that doesn't make sense."

"i know."

"i'm not interesting. i'm not cool or funny or—"

"you are though," you interrupted. "you are all of those things. you just don't see it."

he went quiet for a long moment. then, so quietly you almost missed it: "i've been trying so hard not to want you back. because i knew—i know it's not good for me. but i can't stop. and i'm so tired of trying."

his hand slid from your wrist to your hand, fingers threading through yours. the touch was so much gentler than you expected, almost reverent. "i deleted your texts without reading them," he admitted. "because if i read them i'd respond. and if i responded i'd end up right back where i started. wanting you. letting you in. getting hurt."

"i don't want to hurt you."

"i know. that's what makes it worse." he leaned his head back against the couch, eyes closing. "you don't mean to. you just. do."

you didn't know what to say to that. didn't know how to fix the damage you'd done or convince him that your feelings were real when your actions had been so calculated. so you just sat there, holding his hand, feeling the warmth of him next to you.

"i missed you," jake said, so quiet you barely heard it over the music. "i fucking missed you and i hated myself for it."

"i missed you too."

"yeah?" he opened his eyes, looking at you with something raw and unguarded. "you missed manipulating me?"

"that's not fair."

"isn't it though?" but there was no heat in his words. just exhaustion. "god, i'm so tired. tired of being angry. tired of trying to stay away from you. tired of pretending i don't want you so badly it hurts."

the confession hung in the air between you. jake was looking at you like he was waiting for something, permission or rejection or maybe just confirmation that you'd heard him.

you leaned in. gave him time to pull away, to remember all the reasons this was a bad idea. but he didn't. he met you halfway, his lips crashing against yours with none of the careful hesitation from before. this was messy and desperate, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. he kissed you like he'd been holding back for too long, like all that careful control had finally snapped.

you shifted closer, practically climbing into his lap, and he made a sound against your mouth that went straight through you. his hands were everywhere, spanning your waist, sliding up your back, gripping like he was afraid you'd disappear if he loosened his hold even slightly.

"been thinking about this," he mumbled against your lips, barely pulling back enough to speak. "every night. hated myself for it but couldn't stop."

"me too," you admitted, kissing along his jaw. "i couldn't sleep. kept replaying everything."

"i lied about the texts i didn't respond to," he said, tilting his head to give you better access. "i read them. all of them before deleting. at like three am. read them over and over."

"why didn't you answer?"

"because i wanted to say things i shouldn't say. like how much i missed you. how i kept going to the lab hoping you'd be there. how seeing you at the party tonight fucking destroyed me even though i pretended i was fine." his hands tightened on your waist. "how i've been so fucking miserable without you."

you kissed him again, harder this time, swallowing his words. he responded immediately, pulling you fully into his lap now, and you could feel how much he wanted this, wanted you. it was overwhelming. intoxicating. the desperation in every touch, every small sound he made.

"we should," he said between kisses, "we should probably stop."

"do you want to stop?"

"no. god no." he pulled back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown, lips swollen. "but i'm drunk and you're drunk and tomorrow we're gonna regret—"

"i won't," you said firmly. "i won't regret this."

something shifted in his expression. softened. he touched your face with a gentleness that made your chest ache, thumb brushing across your cheekbone. "you're gonna break my heart," he said, not quite a question.

"i'm not."

"you will." but he kissed you anyway, softer this time. slower. like he was memorising the feel of you. "and i'm gonna let you. because i'm weak and pathetic and i want you so much i don't even care anymore."

"you're not weak."

"i am though." he rested his forehead against yours, eyes closing. "i'm so weak for you. it's embarrassing."

you could feel his exhaustion creeping in, the way his body was getting heavier against yours, his movements slowing. "come on," you said softly, standing and pulling him up with you. "let's get you somewhere you can actually sleep."

"don't wanna sleep," he protested, but let you guide him anyway. "wanna stay with you."

"you will. i'm not going anywhere."

you found an empty bedroom on the second floor, the door unlocked and the bed mercifully unoccupied. jake collapsed onto it immediately, pulling you down with him. he was asleep within minutes, his arms wrapped around you, face buried in your neck. his breathing evened out, deep and steady.

you should probably feel guilty. taking advantage of his drunken honesty, letting him confess things he'd normally keep locked away. but you were too tired, too overwhelmed by everything he'd said. i want you so badly it hurts. i've been so fucking miserable without you. you're gonna break my heart and i'm gonna let you.

you didn't have answers. didn't have promises you could make. didn't know how to fix the fundamental imbalance between you, the manipulation and hurt that had gotten you here.

but for now, in this quiet room with jake's warmth pressed against you, you could pretend tomorrow didn't exist. could pretend this was simple. just two people who wanted each other, tangled together in the dark, nothing more complicated than that.

you fell asleep still wearing your shoes, jake's arms tight around you, his heartbeat steady against your chest.

you woke to pale morning light filtering through unfamiliar curtains and the warm weight of jake still wrapped around you. for a disorienting moment you couldn't place where you were. then it came back in pieces. the party. the confrontation. jake's drunken confessions. falling asleep tangled together.

jake stirred against you, his breath catching as he woke. you felt the exact moment awareness returned, the way his body went tense. slowly, carefully, he pulled back just enough to look at you. his hair was a disaster, sticking up in every direction. his glasses sat crooked on the nightstand. his eyes were cautious but clear.

"hi," he said quietly.

"hi."

he didn't let go of you. didn't immediately scramble away or apologise or retreat into panic like last time. he just looked at you, searching your face for something.

"i said a lot of things last night," he finally said.

"yeah."

"i meant them." his voice was serious, steady despite the embarrassment colouring his cheeks. "i know i was drunk, and i probably shouldn't have said half of it, but. i meant it. all of it."

your heart kicked up. "jake—"

"i like you," he said, cutting you off gently. "i've liked you since that first night in the lab when you were stressed about your code and i got to actually help you with something. and it's been killing me trying to stay away from you because every time i see you i just. want you. so much that it scares me."

"why does it scare you?"

"because i don't know how to want someone this much and still protect myself." he shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow so he could see you better. "last time i didn't protect myself at all. i just. gave in. and then i panicked because it felt too big, too fast, and i didn't know how to handle it."

"and now?"

"now i'm still terrified," he admitted. "but i'm more scared of not trying. of walking away and spending the rest of college wondering what could have happened if i'd just. been brave enough to give you a real chance."

you felt something tight in your chest start to loosen. "i want that. a real chance. i want to do this right."

"yeah?"

"yeah." you reached up, brushing his messy hair back from his forehead. "i'm sorry. for all of it. the manipulation, the games, not being honest about what i wanted. you deserved better than that."

"i know," jake said simply. then, softer: "but i also know you were scared too. just in a different way."

he leaned down, kissing you with a gentleness that made your chest ache. different from last night's desperate intensity. this was slow, careful, almost questioning. you kissed him back, trying to pour everything you couldn't quite say into it. apology and promise and want all tangled together.

when he pulled back his eyes were dark, pupils blown. "i want to try again," he said. "properly this time. but i need you to be honest with me. about what you want. about what this is."

"i want you," you said. "not as a project or a conquest or whatever i convinced myself it was before. just you jake."

something in his expression softened. "okay," he said. "okay. we can work with that."

he kissed you again, deeper this time, and you felt his weight settle more fully over you. "i want to make it up to you," he murmured against your lips. "for running away before. for making you feel like you did something wrong when i was just scared."

"you don't have to—"

"i want to." he was already kissing down your neck, hands sliding under your shirt. "let me. please."

there was something in his voice, almost pleading, that made you nod. he smiled against your skin, helping you out of your clothes with more confidence than he'd had before. when you were bare beneath him he just. looked. taking his time, hands mapping your body like he was memorising every detail.

"you're so pretty," he said, almost reverent. "i thought about this. about you. so many times."

then he was moving lower, pressing kisses down your stomach, your hip bones, the inside of your thighs. when his breath ghosted over where you needed him most you couldn't help the small sound that escaped.

"tell me if anything's too much," he said, glancing up at you. then he lowered his mouth to you and your brain short-circuited.

he started slowly, almost tentatively, like he was learning you. his tongue moved in careful strokes, testing what made you gasp, what made your hips shift toward him. when he found the rhythm that had your fingers tightening in his hair, he made a low, satisfied sound against you that you felt everywhere.

"jake," you breathed, and he looked up at you through his lashes, pupils blown wide, lips glistening with your arousal.

"tell me," he said, voice rough. "tell me what feels good."

"that—" your words cut off as he did it again, tongue flicking over your clit with that same perfect pressure. "right there. just like that."

he was a quick learner. always had been. he catalogued every reaction, every sound you made, adjusting and refining. except this wasn't detached or analytical. this was hungry. desperate. he sucked your clit into his mouth and you moaned, loud and unrestrained, your thighs trembling on either side of his head.

"fuck, jake—"

"god, you taste so good," he mumbled against your pussy, barely pulling back enough to speak. his chin was wet, his glasses fogged slightly. "been thinking about this. wanted to do this right last time."

he was getting lost in it now, the careful control slipping into something messier, greedier. he alternated between focused attention on your clit and broad, indulgent strokes through your folds, like he couldn't decide between making you fall apart and simply savouring you. his tongue pushed inside you and you keened, your back arching off the bed.

"oh my god," you gasped. "jake, your mouth—"

he moaned against you, the vibration making your thighs clench around his head. he didn't seem to mind, just gripped your hips harder, pulled you closer, like he wanted to suffocate in your pussy. when his fingers joined his mouth, sliding through your wetness before pressing inside, you nearly sobbed.

"so wet," he murmured, almost to himself.

he crooked his fingers, finding that spot inside you that made you cry out, and worked it mercilessly while his tongue circled your clit. the dual sensation was overwhelming, pleasure building so fast you couldn't catch your breath. your fingers tightened in his hair, probably painful, but he just groaned and doubled his efforts.

"jake, i'm—fuck, i'm gonna—"

"i know," he said against you, his voice wrecked. "i can feel it. let go for me."

his fingers thrust deeper, faster, his mouth sucking hard on your clit, and you shattered. your orgasm hit like a shockwave, your whole body going taut as pleasure whited out your vision. you were dimly aware of the sounds you were making—high, desperate whimpers and moans—but you couldn't stop them.

jake moaned against you, the sound vibrating through your core, and he didn't let up. he worked you through it with devastating patience, his tongue lapping up everything you gave him like he was starving for it.

"jake," you gasped, trying to push at his head. "too much—"

but he just whined—actually whined—and gripped your thighs tighter, keeping them spread. "please," he mumbled against your pussy, his words muffled and desperate. "please, just one more. need to feel you come again. please."

"i can't—" but your protest died as he sealed his lips around your clit again, sucking gently, his fingers still working inside you. the overstimulation was almost painful but it was already shifting into something else, something that had you gasping and arching into his mouth instead of away from it.

he was making sounds now—desperate, needy whimpers and moans that vibrated against you. he was rutting against the mattress, you realised dimly, seeking friction while he lost himself in eating you out. his hair was a mess from your fingers, and he looked absolutely wrecked.

"so good," he whined between licks. "taste so good. could do this forever. please let me—need to make you come again—"

he was babbling now, drunk on you, his movements getting messier and more desperate. his tongue worked your clit in frantic circles while his fingers curled inside you, and the pleasure was building again impossibly fast. you were so sensitive that every touch felt electric, overwhelming.

"that's it," he gasped, feeling you start to tighten around his fingers. "yeah, give it to me. please, please—"

your second orgasm hit even harder than the first, ripping through you with an intensity that had you crying out his name, your thighs clamping around his head. jake moaned like he was the one coming, his hips jerking against the mattress as he worked you through it, tongue lapping up everything, fingers gentling but not stopping until you were actually sobbing from oversensitivity.

only then did he pull back, and when he finally lifted his head he looked completely gone. his face was flushed and wet, his eyes glazed and unfocused, his lips swollen and red. he looked drunk on you, his eyes unfocused and dark.

"fuck," he breathed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "you're so hot when you come. the sounds you make—"

you pulled him up into a kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue, feeling the way he groaned into your mouth. his cock was rock hard against your thigh, leaking and desperate.

"your turn," you said, reaching down to wrap your hand around him.

he hissed at the contact, his hips jerking forward. "you don't have to—"

"i want to." you stroked him slowly, base to tip, feeling how hot and heavy he was in your palm. precum leaked from the slit and you used it to ease the glide. "you're so hard, jake. does eating my pussy turn you on that much?"

"fuck—" his voice broke. "yes. god, yes. you have no idea."

"tell me." you tightened your grip slightly and he whimpered. actually whimpered. "tell me what you were thinking about."

"i was thinking—" he gasped when your thumb swept over the sensitive head. "thinking about how good you taste. how you were shaking. how i could feel you clenching and i wanted—wanted to be inside you—"

"yeah?" you stroked him faster, loving the way his abs tensed, the way his thighs trembled. "you want to fuck me, jake?"

"so bad," he choked out.

you guided him between your legs, not quite inside yet, just letting the head of his cock slide through your wetness. he made a strangled sound, his whole body shuddering.

"we should—do you have—" he was trying to think through the haze of arousal, being responsible even now. "condom?"

"pill," you said. "i'm on the pill. and i'm clean. tested recently."

"me too. clean, i mean." his cock twitched against you, smearing precum through your folds. "can i—fuck, can i feel you bare?"

"yes," you breathed. "want to feel all of you."

he positioned himself at your entrance, the thick head pressing against you, and even that felt like too much. he pushed in slowly, so slowly, and the stretch was intense. you were wet enough that he slid in smoothly at first, but the sheer size of him was overwhelming.

"oh fuck," you gasped, your hands flying to his shoulders. "jake, you're so—you're so big—"

"i know, i'm sorry—" he froze, only halfway in. "am i hurting you?"

"no, don't stop," you urged, your legs wrapping around his hips to pull him deeper. "just—go slow. need to adjust."

he sank in another inch and you both moaned. he was splitting you open, stretching you so full you could barely breathe. when he finally bottomed out, buried completely inside you, he dropped his forehead to yours.

"oh my god," he choked out. "you're so tight. so fucking tight and wet and—i can't—"

"don't move yet," you managed, clenching around him involuntarily. he was so deep you could feel him everywhere, pressing against spots that made your toes curl. "just let me—fuck—"

"you feel incredible," he said, his voice shaking. "i've never—nothing compares to this."

you tightened around him experimentally and he swore, his hips jerking forward. "sorry, sorry," he gasped. "i'm trying to hold still but when you do that i want to—"

"want to what?" you rolled your hips slightly and he groaned, deep and guttural.

"want to move," he admitted, his control clearly fraying. "want to fuck you."

"then do it," you said.

something in him snapped. he pulled almost all the way out and thrust back in hard, the force of it punching a cry from your lips. he did it again, and again, finding a rhythm that was deep and relentless. the bed creaked beneath you, the headboard hitting the wall with each thrust.

"yes," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. "just like that—don't stop—"

"god," he panted, his voice wrecked. "you feel so good."

you looked down between your bodies and moaned at the sight—his thick cock disappearing into you, glistening with your wetness, stretching you obscenely. "jake, oh my god—"

"feel how deep i am?" he thrust particularly hard and you keened.

"yes—fuck yes—"

he wasn't being careful anymore, wasn't being gentle. he fucked into you with abandon, each thrust hitting that spot inside you that made sparks shoot up your spine. the sounds were obscene—skin slapping against skin, the wet slide of his cock, his grunts mixing with your moans.

"wanted this," he said against your neck, his breath hot. "wanted you. for so long."

"tell me more," you demanded, loving this unfiltered version of him.

"thought about this constantly," he admitted, his thrusts getting harder. "thought about having you like this. making you feel good. hearing you say my name."

"jake—" you were getting close again, that familiar tension building low in your belly.

"touch yourself," he said. "want to feel you come on my cock. need it. please."

you slid your hand between your bodies, finding your clit, already swollen and sensitive. the added stimulation made you clench around him and he swore, his rhythm faltering.

"that's it," he encouraged, his eyes fixed on where your fingers worked. "fuck, that's so hot. you're so hot. make yourself cum. let me feel it."

you worked your clit in tight circles, the pressure building faster with each thrust of his cock. he was so deep, hitting all the right spots, the slide of him inside you absolutely perfect. you were making sounds you'd never made before—high, desperate whines and gasps.

"close," you managed. "so close—"

"come for me," he urged, his voice strained. "squeeze my cock. want to feel your pussy milk me. come on, baby, let me feel it—"

the orgasm hit you like lightning, sudden and intense. you cried out his name, your whole body convulsing, your pussy clamping down on him rhythmically. waves of pleasure crashed over you, so intense you forgot how to breathe.

"oh fuck," jake choked out, his hips stuttering. "you're—i can feel you—i'm gonna—"

he tried to last, you could see it in the tension of his jaw, the way his arms were shaking. but your pussy was still fluttering around him, still clenching in aftershocks, and it was too much. he buried himself deep with a broken moan, his cock pulsing inside you as he came. you felt the warmth of it, felt him fill you up, and the intimacy of it made something in your chest crack open.

"fuck," he gasped, collapsing on top of you. "oh my god. that was—i've never—"

you wrapped your arms around him, both of you breathing hard, hearts racing in sync. he was still inside you, softening slowly, and you could feel his release leaking out around his cock.

"that was amazing," you said when you could finally speak. "you were amazing."

he lifted his head to look at you, his expression soft and vulnerable. "i think i might be falling for you," he said quietly. "is that okay? am i allowed to say that?"

your throat felt tight with emotion. "yeah. that's okay."

"good." he kissed you gently, sweetly. "because i don't think i could stop even if you told me to."

he pulled out carefully and you both hissed at the sensitivity. immediately he was gathering you into his arms, pulling you against his chest like he couldn't stand not touching you. you fit there perfectly, your head tucked under his chin.

"we should probably talk about this," you said after a while. "about us."

"we will," jake promised, his fingers tracing patterns on your spine. "but can we just stay like this for a bit first?"

"yeah." you pressed closer, breathing in the scent of him. "we can stay like this."

and you did. stayed tangled together as the morning light grew stronger, as the sounds of people leaving the party filtered up through the floor. his cum was still leaking out of you, making a mess on your thighs, but neither of you moved to clean up. you just held each other in this new, tentative peace.

jake changed almost overnight once you started dating. it was like giving him permission to want you openly had flipped some switch in his brain. suddenly he was everywhere.

he'd show up at your door before your 9 am lecture with coffee, your exact order memorised, his hair still messy from sleep because he'd woken up early just to see you. he'd kiss you goodbye and then text you five minutes later with some random thought he forgot to mention. did you know that octopuses have three hearts? just learnt that. thought you should know.

in class he'd sit next to you instead of in his usual back corner spot, his knee always pressed against yours under the desk. sometimes his hand would find its way to your thigh, just resting there, his thumb tracing absent patterns while he tried to focus on the lecture. you'd catch him staring at you instead of his laptop, and when you'd raise an eyebrow he'd just smile, unashamed.

"you're distracting," he'd whisper.

"i'm literally just sitting here."

"i know. it's very distracting."

study sessions became impossible. you'd be explaining a concept and he'd lean over to kiss your shoulder, your neck, the corner of your mouth. "jake, i'm trying to help you."

"i know, keep going," he'd say, already doing it again.

"you're not even listening."

"i am. you were talking about. um." he'd grin sheepishly. "okay i wasn't listening. but you're just so pretty when you're focused."

your friends noticed immediately. yunjin had taken one look at jake's arm slung around your shoulders at lunch, the way he was playing with your hair while talking to beomgyu, and pulled you aside.

"okay so he's like. obsessed with you," she said. "it's actually kind of cute. in a golden retriever kind of way."

"he's not obsessed."

"babe, he just offered to carry your bag even though your apartment is literally three minutes away. and he's been smiling at you for the past ten minutes like you hung the moon. it's obsessed behaviour."

but she said it fondly, and later you caught her telling beomgyu that she'd never seen you this relaxed before. "she's not performing," yunjin had said. "she's just. being."

and she was right. with jake you didn't have to strategise or calculate or perform anything. he wanted you. obviously, openly, without games or subtext. when you showed up to his place in sweats and no makeup, he'd light up like you'd dressed up specifically for him. when you stole his hoodies, he'd just buy more so you could steal those too.

"i like seeing you in my clothes," he'd admitted once, pulling you close. "makes me feel like. i don't know. like you're mine."

"possessive," you'd teased.

"is that bad?"

"no," you'd said, kissing him. "i like it."

jake's friends had their own reactions. you'd been nervous meeting them properly, remembering that disastrous first encounter at the party. but they'd welcomed you easily, even if they did give jake endless shit.

"dude, you're so whipped," his roommate said, watching jake immediately get up to refill your drink without being asked.

"and?" jake had said, completely unbothered.

"and nothing, it's just funny. remember when you said you'd never be that guy who drops everything for someone? and now you're literally—"

"finish that sentence and i'm not helping you with discrete math anymore."

but he was smiling when he said it, and later his roommate told you that jake talked about you constantly. "it's honestly annoying how happy he is."

the thing was, you were happy too. unexpectedly, overwhelmingly happy. jake made you sharper somehow, more focused. when you studied together you actually retained information because he made learning feel collaborative instead of competitive. he celebrated your successes like they were his own, staying up with you before big presentations, bringing you stress-relief snacks, sending you encouraging texts.

and you did the same for him. learnt his patterns, his tells when he was overwhelmed. you'd show up at the lab with dinner when you knew he'd been working for hours. you'd run your fingers through his hair when he was stressed, and he'd melt into your touch, all that tension draining away.

"you make everything easier," he'd told you once, late at night when you were both too tired to filter. "like the world's less heavy when you're around."

"that's the cheesiest thing you've ever said."

"i know. i mean it though."

weeks blurred together in the best way. stolen kisses between classes. jake's hand always finding yours. the way he'd kiss you goodbye at your door and then text you goodnight five minutes later even though he lived one floor up. movie nights that turned into makeout sessions on your couch, jake's glasses getting in the way until you carefully removed them, setting them aside so you could kiss him properly.

he got clingy when he was tired, wrapping around you like a koala, mumbling into your neck. "don't leave."

"i'm just going to get water."

"too far. stay."

"jake, i'll be gone thirty seconds."

"thirty seconds too long."

you'd laugh, running your fingers through his hair until he fell asleep, and feel something warm and settled in your chest. this was what it was supposed to feel like.

the beach had been jake's idea. "there's supposed to be a meteor shower tonight," he'd said, eyes lighting up behind his glasses. "and i know this spot that's perfect for stargazing. barely any light pollution. we could bring blankets, make a whole thing of it?"

so here you were, sitting on a blanket in the sand while the ocean crashed softly in the background. the sky was impossibly clear, stars scattered across it like someone had spilt diamonds. jake lay with his head in your lap, one of your hands playing with his hair while he pointed up at the sky.

"okay, so see those seven stars there?" he traced a pattern with his finger. "that's the big dipper, which is part of ursa major. but if you follow those two stars at the edge, they point directly to polaris. the north star."

you hummed, only half listening to the actual words. you were too busy watching him. the way his eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, how animated his expressions were when he talked about something he loved. the moonlight caught on his features, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the soft curve of his lips.

"and that one—" he was still going, completely absorbed. "that's cassiopeia. she was a queen in greek mythology who bragged about being more beautiful than the sea nymphs, so poseidon punished her by placing her in the sky upside down. you can see how the constellation kind of looks like a W? that's her throne."

"jake," you said softly.

"oh, and if you look over there, that really bright one? that's actually venus, not a star. common misconception. planets don't twinkle like stars do because—"

you leaned down and kissed him, cutting off his rambling mid-sentence. he made a surprised sound but responded immediately, his hand coming up to cup the back of your neck. when you pulled back he followed your lips automatically, trying to chase another kiss.

"you were saying?" you teased.

"i—" he blinked up at you, slightly dazed. "what was i saying?"

"something about venus."

"right. venus. because of the. um." he lost his train of thought as you leaned down again, kissing him slower this time. "you're distracting me from the meteor shower."

"am i?"

"yeah. very effectively." but he was smiling, pulling you down for another kiss.

you shifted, moving to straddle his lap properly. jake's hands immediately found your waist, sliding under your shirt to rest against bare skin. 

the kissing turned heated quickly. jake made these small, needy sounds that drove you crazy, his hands roaming over your back, your sides, anywhere he could reach. when you rolled your hips experimentally he gasped into your mouth, his grip tightening.

"fuck," he whispered. "you're gonna kill me."

you kissed down his jaw, his neck, feeling his pulse racing under your lips. his hands had moved to your hips now, guiding your movements, and you could feel how affected he was. "still thinking about the stars?" you teased.

"what stars?" he pulled you down for another bruising kiss, one hand tangling in your hair. "can't think about anything except you."

you ground down harder and jake made a sound that was almost a whine, his head falling back against the blanket. "please," he gasped. "please, i need—"

suddenly, the loud, insistent beeping of his watch interrupted the moment.

you both froze.

jake's face went bright red as he fumbled with his wrist. "oh my god. oh my god. it's my fitness watch. it thinks i'm exercising because my heart rate—" another beep. "make it stop."

you couldn't help it. you burst out laughing, burying your face in his shoulder while his watch continued its concerned beeping about his elevated heart rate. "it's not funny," jake groaned, still trying to silence the watch. "this is so embarrassing."

"it's a little funny."

"my watch just cockblocked me. there's nothing funny about that."

you kissed his jaw, still giggling. "i think it's cute. your heart rate got that high just from kissing me?"

"you were not just kissing me, you were—" he made a frustrated noise. "yes. okay. yes. you have that effect on me. are you happy?"

"very." you settled against his chest, feeling his heartbeat still racing under your ear. the watch had finally stopped beeping. "for what it's worth, my heart's doing the same thing."

"yeah?" he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close.

"yeah."

you lay there together, the ocean providing a steady soundtrack, the stars scattered above you. jake pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "i love you," he said softly. "in case that wasn't obvious from the way my watch literally staged an intervention."

you lifted your head to look at him. his eyes were soft, open, vulnerable in the moonlight. "i love you too," you said, meaning it completely.

he smiled, that full, genuine smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. then he kissed you again, sweet and unhurried, his hands gentle on your face.

"we should probably head back soon," you murmured eventually. "it's getting late."

"five more minutes," jake said, pulling you closer. "just. let me hold you for five more minutes."

you settled back against him, his arms wrapped securely around you, both of you looking up at the vast sky. you'd come here to watch a meteor shower but you'd been too distracted by each other to notice if any had passed.

somehow, you didn't mind at all.

"hey," jake said softly. "thank you."

"for what?"

"for giving me another chance. for being patient with me while i figured my shit out. for. this. all of it." his arms tightened around you. "i know i was difficult at first."

"you weren't difficult. you were protecting yourself. i get it now."

"still. you could have given up on me. but you didn't."

"of course i didn't," you said, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "you're worth it. you've always been worth it."

jake made a soft, overwhelmed sound, burying his face in your hair. "i'm gonna marry you someday," he mumbled. "just so you know."

"jake—"

"not now. obviously not now. but someday. when we've graduated and figured our lives out and i can actually afford a ring. i'm gonna marry you."

you felt your chest go tight with emotion. "okay," you whispered. "someday."

"yeah. someday."

you stayed like that until the cold started seeping in, until you were both shivering despite being pressed together. finally, reluctantly, you packed up the blanket and headed back to campus. jake held your hand the entire walk, occasionally pulling you close to kiss you at random intervals.

"what was that for?" you asked after the third surprise kiss.

"just because," he said, smiling. "because i can. because i love you. do i need more reasons?"

"no," you said, kissing him back. "no more reasons needed."

if you liked this please comment or reblog to give me your feedback! <3

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr ˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

[intromortal]

⭑ AS YOU ARE ⸻ lee heeseung

no matter what you tell yourself in moments of insecurity, your boyfriend is there to remind you that he loves you just as you are.

this work contains ⋆ smut ⋆ minors do not interact ⋆ hurt/comfort, so much overthinking, discussions of depression and low self esteem, body image issues, nothing too specific but weight is hinted once, family issues, jealousy, mentions of misogyny, yuna is hee's bestie but we love her trust, reader is insecure and hee is here to help, this is really just me projecting, unprotected sex, creampie, ceiling mirror, praise, like so much praise, body worship, oral f!rec, fingering, full nelson, choking, marking ⸻ rules m.list

length ⋆ one shot ⸻ 15.3k words

✷ NIA — if you know me you know i went through the circles of hell while writing this. is this good? some parts, maybe. probably not, generally speaking. but it's okay because it's mine! and that's what the fic is about. this is for my own personal polar star, @venomhee <3

The thing about finding refuge in a person's presence is that you never know how long you'll be able to keep doing it.

Stuff like the stars, that's eternal. No matter what the next day might bring, night always comes. Emotions are fleeting, people even more so. They change and lie and deceive.

That could be never be Heeseung.

"I'll be your polar star, when you need me to be," he'd said with his back resting on the stringy grass of his backyard, when for the first time you tried to explain why you find so much comfort in the stars.

Whenever you lose hold of your own self, he's there to guide you gently to shore again. Loving Heeseung feels very much like the summer sun kissing your skin from the comfort of land, toes wiggling into the warm, never too hot, sand.

He pays very close attention to you, no matter what it is. It's been clear from the very start, like when he remembers the brands of chocolate he should avoid buying because you find them too artificially sweet. Or how he walks into the bathroom while you shower to bring you towels long before you realize you need them, because you somehow always forget your own. He knows all your orders by heart, and when you feel like switching it up he can easily tell you which items on the menu you would like and which ones you wouldn't. And if by chance you're really stubborn and still order something he knows you will hate, he gets your usual order for himself as a backup. (He's always right, and you end up eating your usual more than you'd like to admit.)

You joke he keeps a notepad with info about you readily available for him to consult, but he insists he doesn't need instructions to love you because he knows you. He knows you and your mind and understands how you think. You don't need to check your navigator for directions when you're driving down a road you know by heart.

So no, Heeseung would never deceive you, do you wrong. But your brain will. It spills venom wherever there's space for it to fit. In the little time before you get a text back, in the fleeting sentences he doesn't even think twice about but you spend the day deconstructing in your mind, trying to find a clue. There must be a catch, not because Heeseung is insincere or worse, but because you're so not worth it. Your thoughts are poison and it slowly clouds your vision until you barely recognize your surroundings anymore, they dull your senses until they're the only thing you're able to perceive.

He's the best thing that's ever happened to you, and as the saying goes those are the ones that never last. So how long do you have left? You watch your steps as if to prolong his stay in your life, watch your words so carefully around his friends—lest you upset them and they tell him to pick a side—put on your best facade and try to be the best girlfriend possible for him. Try to be a little more like his best friend.

You know it's petty, and she's nothing but respectful of your relationship and kind to you, but that makes it so much worse. If only she could be mean, snarky, jealous, and all those things evil girl best friends are supposed to be in stories like yours and Heeseung's, resenting her would be so much easier. It would feel okay.

Instead she welcomes you right in whenever she sees you, hugging you so tightly someone walking down the road would think you two are best friends reuniting after months, asking you all the right questions to keep the conversation going no matter how uncharming and awkward your answers are, no matter how hard it is for you to find the right words or how long you take. You're not very good with words, so you're also not very good with people, since all people are is an intricate braid made out of their favorite words and conversations.

You imagine the words she's made up of must all be positive and quirky in the way a fairy is, graceful and light, floating across the room and from person to person, each one in her wake with a lingering smile dancing on their lip by the time she's sprinkling her fairy dust on someone else. You don't dwell on what the words you're made out of are, you're not really interested in finding out, but you know Heeseung's name is probably out there in bold letters and underlined in gel glitter pen, sticking out like a sore thumb next to all the other more boring ones.

She's all these things you're not, and she's all the things Heeseung deserves but you can't be, no matter how hard you try.

Of course, it's Heeseung, so he sees right through it every time.

"Almost ready?" A knock on the wooden door frame wakes you up from the daydreaming you hadn't even realizing you were doing, and suddenly you're back in your room.

You turn towards the voice, finding your boyfriend leaning against the door frame. He looks beautiful, his hair messy and wavy and the white shirt he's wearing perfectly complementing his skin tone. You think it's a little unfair for some people to just look like this effortlessly, but it adds to Heeseung's charm. You wish it would be as easy for you to look presentable, no matter the steps you take day to day, you're never fully satisfied with what you see reflected in the mirror by the time you have to leave. It's especially worse when you're in a sour mood to begin with. Even looks that would've been okay any other day suddenly you find horrendous.

"Hee? No baby?" He pouts, stepping into your very messy room. There are clothes flung everywhere, one might think a tornado ran through your closet, but an annoyed you incapable of figuring out what to wear is a far more destructive force, one Heeseung is very familiar with. He quickly glances your way, and you're still in your pajamas, fighting with a makeup brush and with deep expression lines highlighting exactly how you feel. There's a small pout on your lips and Heeseung thinks it might be the cutest thing he has ever seen. "It's okay if we run a little late, baby. Take your time and don't rush too much."

You know he means well, and he's honest in his comforting words. You know he would rather you take an additional half hour instead of seeing you stressed over something as silly as the outfit you're gonna wear at a simple friend gathering. You also know Heeseung would love every single outfit you end up putting together. These are things you should know, and you try to remind that to yourself.

Heeseung loves you.

Heeseung is not annoyed.

Heeseung thinks you're beautiful, even when you don't.

But when you look into the mirror you're facing, with your legs crossed on the cold tile floor, and you find what feels like a stranger staring back at you, you don't know whether you believe those words anymore.

Tears well up in your eyes as you put down the makeup brush, tiny indents littering your palm from how tight you were holding it. You want to fight back the tears, at least in front of Heeseung, but it's hard when you're so frustrated.

Frustrated because you always make a big deal out of nothing, because all it takes to break the composure you so badly try to maintain is a simple sentence no one else would mistake for a jab. Frustrated because now you're gonna ruin Heeseung's night, one he has been looking forward to all week, because you're just so insecure it's almost pathetic. Frustrated because of course he's gonna spend his time consoling you instead of having fun. You know he will because he loves you. Because it's Heeseung.

He loves you and you know it but it feels like reciting words off a script, facts you memorized from a history book. You say the words in your mind but your heart stings because you don't let yourself believe them even when he tries his best to make you feel them.

You're unlovable, still he adores you. And here you are, so undeserving of it.

"Baby?"

A pang of guilt shoots you like an arrow through your heart at the soft concerned tone he calls to you with. He's the most soft spoken man you've ever met, that goes when he's interacting with anyone. Yet there's an almost cautious edge to his voice when he speaks to you in moments like this, an underlying vulnerability that's easy to miss if not paying close attention to it. It says: "talk to me with your heart on your sleeve, but if needed, I'll rip mine out of my chest and hand it to you to hold, if that makes you feel less uneasy at all."

You try to recollect yourself as best as you can before replying, taking deep breaths to slow down your heartbeat, but the pit in your stomach grows bolder with each one. You should tell him you're not feeling your best, maybe you ate something off, maybe you should've worn a scarf that one time he suggested you bundle up and you didn't. You should tell him to go enjoy his night with his friends, you'll stay home and maybe get started on that book you've been meaning to read.

Those are all things you would like to say, but your inner voice doesn't reach your lips, blocked by all the thorns growing from your heart into your throat.

"Do you want to throw on one of my hoodies? I know you like wearing those," Heeseung says from behind you, your heart leaping when his warm breath hits your neck before you even hear his words. He moves your hair away, softly kneading your shoulders with his thumbs, his mouth moving to press a kiss to the top of your head.

It takes all the courage hidden in your body to speak up, "Maybe you should… just go Hee. I'm not feeling it today." You immediately regret it, because he's sitting on the right beside you the second you finish your sentence. And if his touch was soft and caring before, now it's downright concerned as he pulls you into his lap.

"Why's that, pretty? Is something wrong?"

Avoiding his eyes is hard, even more so when he grabs your face so carefully, thumbs wiping away tears you hadn't even noticed slipping away. You want to speak, want to lay it all out. You want to make a cocoon out of Heeseung's warmth and scent, to lay in his hold and never think about any negative thing ever again. It doesn't matter where you are as long as he's cradling you to his chest.

Heeseung senses your hesitation, a new wound in his heart each time he catches one of your sniffles. "You can tell me anything, baby. We don't have to go, we can stay—" he stops as you shake your head vehemently. Absolutely no way you're gonna ruin his night, you refuse to.

"You go, Heeseung. No reason to stay here." Your voice cracks while speaking, and you internally cringe at how nasal you sound.

"No reason? I can't just leave you here like this."

"Your friends are waiting for you."

"Our friends are waiting for both of us."

"They are your friends, Heeseung. I'm their acquaintance because we're dating, I'm sure it makes no difference to them. Whether I'm there or not." You shrug, trying to ignore the knot forming back up in your throat, like your vocal chords are fumbling and getting all tied up with every word you speak. "And, you've been looking forward to this all week. Don't let me ruin it."

"Ruin it?" He shakes his head slightly, brows furrowing as he moves to make eye contact with you again. "What are you talking about?"

He searches your eyes for a hint of something, anything, to tell him you don't believe what you're saying. His shoulders slump when all he finds in those beautiful eyes he's come to think of as a safe haven is hurt. "Our friends love you, baby. I can barely get a word in before they ask me about you. They're always so excited to see you."

"I don't like feeling like I'm intruding constantly."

"You're never—"

"You guys have your own inside jokes, and things you've been meaning to see, stuff you've been meaning to do together. You're childhood friends. And I know we are too, but I'm not their friend. I'm just… there."

"Jungwon's joined recently too, Jay brought him in. I only got to know him last month and look. It's like he's always been there."

Tears well up in your eyes, and Heeseung's expression shifts to one of quiet panic, but the words tumble out of your mouth before he can take it back. "That's the thing. Jungwon is bright, charming, funny, so easy going. He fits in everywhere. But I always feel like I'm both too much and never enough at the same time. I don't want anyone to feel like they have to be my friend because-because I'm dating you."

"Of course my friends care for you. Anyone would be stupid not to. You belong right next to me. I love you. If you feel like you have nowhere, that's not true. You have me."

"It's just… I'm always so in my head. Why did I say that? I sounded so dumb. Why didn't I say that? It was a funny joke. Can I even say anything right now? It's not my place to. I spend all day and all night worrying about how I'm coming off to other people and by the end of it I wonder if anyone noticed I was even there in the first place. It's not just strangers or your friends. I feel like I'm this ghost, but then I get comfortable and I'm still all over the place. Like I have counted words until someone closer—or you, even you—gets tired of me. Like with every wrong step I take I'm suffocating any good opinion someone might have of me. I'm this object that's supposed to be disposable but you try to use more times anyway and then think 'Wow. Yeah. That's why.'"

You're still cradled against Heeseung's chest, perhaps the only place that's ever made you feel anything akin to a sense of belonging, but right now you wonder if you're even worthy of it. The urgency you felt while speaking, while finally letting out a taste of what's been plaguing your mind, vanishes as quietness envelops you both for a few moments.

Why did you suddenly blow up like that? You shouldn't have, not when your boyfriend was just trying to comfort you. You always do this. Think and think and think too much, just to go ahead say the wrong thing at the wrong time. All you do is overthink, except when it really matters. If you just learned to—

"I wish you could see yourself with my own eyes just for once." His breath tickles your forehead, his lips ghosting on it and every word a kiss. "When you think no one notices you, in the kitchen with your headphones on and too lost in your head to notice the music's been off for a while and you've already grazed your fingertips with the knife one too many times." He brings your hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to your fingers as if to kiss them better, even if they sport no wound. The knife twists in your heart instead.

"You do this thing sometimes," Heeseung continues. "When you're around new people, or people you barely see. Your voice gets so small, you speak quieter and slower, like it could offend someone, like you hope you're not heard at all. But then when you let loose, it gets louder, you get bolder. You brighten up. It's my favorite sight, and it's my favorite sound. And when you've laughed so much it turns squeaky, that's my favorite feeling in the world. You think no one notices, I do. If you spend the entire time worrying, I spend it watching you, watching the people around you slowly uncover you. When you think no one's noticed you, know I did. I see you."

"I know," you sniffle. And you do, you know Heeseung has never once given you reason to doubt it. It's just that sometimes it's easy to forget.

Like always, he reads your mind. "And I know you know. Okay? I love you."

"I love you too."

"And so do your friends."

"Your frien—"

"Yours. No arguing. If Jay heard you right now he'd be so offended."

He kisses your forehead again when doubt morphs your features, before you can even get a word in. "How's Y/n? Is she eating well?" he says against your hair, his hand scratching lightly along your nape, the motion sending chills down your spine. "I trust you're treating her well, or I'll have to beat your ass—yes that one's Sunghoon," he laughs, the sound reverberating against your head. You feel every vibration, but it's not the same as when he's carefree and cuddled up in bed next to you, or when his head is on your chest while you two are watching the stars. That one is light and airy, it's ticklish almost, it's a laugh that makes you smile too. This one is thick with sadness, and you can't believe you've managed to make Heeseung's laugh into something somber. You seem to strip even the most cheerful people out of their color, it's precisely why you should stay home tonight.

Heeseung still feels the doubt radiate off of you even while he recounts some of the instances in which your friends have shown care for you, even when you weren't there to see it. He knows it's easy for you to slip into insecurities, even when they couldn't be farther from the truth. But like he'd said all that time back, he's there to guide you back to shore no matter what, until your toes can wiggle in the sand, and your lungs can fill with air properly.

"They all care for you, and they enjoy your company. I can promise you that. Didn't Jake text you about wanting to show you the shots he took the other night?"

You nod. He'd indeed done just that, but then refused to elaborate, adding that he was in his 'mysterious era' or whatever.

"Well, he found a new spot to use his Better More Dashing Dakota, and has been dying to gush to you about the results, but he insisted he wanted to see your live reactions, a text back wouldn't do it for him." Heeseung rolls his eyes as he mentions Jake's telescope and the stupid name he'd given to it. Jay got his dream car before Jake saved up enough for his dream telescope, and named it Dakota, which pissed Jake off, because that was the name he wanted to use too. Of course, not all inanimate objects need a name, but Jake is very particular about stuff like this. He even went out of his way to get a red telescope—same color of Jay's car—instead of the blue one he wanted as a way to get back at him. Not that Jay cared in the slightest, he now calls them twins actually, which only irritates Jake more.

You make a sound that is supposed to be a laugh but is much closer to a sniffle, and your heart clenches while thinking about Heeseung's friends—your friends, people you've come to love and cherish—and their ridiculous antics. You do miss them, but that little insecure monster is gnawing at your heart still.

"Aaand," he continues, "I've been waiting for tonight because I wanted to spend time with you. Sure, I miss my friends, but we've both been so busy with our schedules I honestly don't mind canceling so we can stay in. Just thought you wanted to go."

"I guess. But Yuna's there." You don't mean to sound bitter, but the venom spills out of your mouth before you have time to stop it. So there it is, the cat's out of the bag.

Heeseung takes a few seconds to process, and when he pulls back to look at you again, you can see pure, raw confusion fleeting behind his eyes. Something you've never seen. It makes your stomach fold in on itself.

"Yeah, just like the other guys will—oh. Oh no. Baby?" The realization is sudden, of course it doesn't take long to put two and two together. He starts to anxiously try to pinpoint a moment, something, that could've made you feel the way that you do. "Since when? Is it something I said? Or did? I would never want you to misunderstand our friendship in a billion years. I—"

You try to interrupt his rambling, so you can explain that no, he's not an asshole—

"Was it her? Babe, did she do something to make you second guess anything?"

—Nor is it Yuna. And now you're making him be suspicious of his best friend, the same girl who convinced him he was supposed to give money to the tooth fairy when he lost a tooth, and then told him she could give the five dollar bill to her herself when they were eight. So no, the asshole might just be you.

You hate how remembering that little fact about their friendship makes you burst into tears.

It's so not fair to Heeseung. Not when he gives you all the love in the world, does the absolute best he can to make you happy and secure in your relationship with him. He can't help it that's he's perfect and his best friend is the exact girl one would think he'd end up with. Girly, and always cheerful, and so confident but never arrogant, and loved by everyone, and drop dead gorgeous, and you could go on and on but it would only make you feel worse.

"Angel? Here, here." Heeseung is patient in a way that you don't think you deserve, big warm hand soothing as he massages your back and holds you even tighter, scared you might get up any moment. "I love you so, so much. Please never forget that."

"It's just—" your voice betrays you, whiny but you don't care anymore. You only care about explaining yourself so that he stops questioning himself, or Yuna, or anyone else, when it's all your fault for this big mess.

"It's okay, it's okay baby. I got you. Take your time, mhh?" He breathes deeply, calming his racing heart down because the last thing you need when you're crying in his arms is to see him so affected because of it. To Heeseung, it's always about how you feel. If you're ready to talk about certain things that he can see bother you from time to time but he won't push to know. It's all about giving you time to articulate yourself, because he knows firsthand sometimes finding the words can be just as hard as feeling them, and he thinks you're the most courageous person ever for even trying to.

He loves you so much, and while he knows he's your personal Polar Star—or tries to be—you might very well be his personal Sun, and he can't stand it when it gets cloudy.

He rocks you back and forth, until the mascara on his shirt is dry and your nails aren't digging into his shoulders quite as hard, until you giggle lightly into his shirt in that self deprecating way you do when you think you overreacted. "God. That was so stupid. I'm dumb, sorry. I know you're just friends."

"Hey. Don't say that. You're not dumb, and your feelings are not stupid."

"Really, I don't even know where that came from."

Heeseung turns your head and watches your eyes intently, scanning them for any sign of lingering doubt. His thumb swipes on your tear stricken face, then adjusts your hair ever so gently. "It came from somewhere."

"I'm not gonna sit here and have you overthink your friendships, Hee."

"Then help me understand."

His voice is firm, decisive. The look on his face anything but. You can't recall a single time you've seen him this clueless. Usually he allows you to work through whatever you're feeling, and by the time you open up he's already pieced it together with the trail of tiny and vague hints you leave behind without even noticing. Sometimes it feels like he can read your mind. In a sick, selfish way, you wish he could. You wouldn't have to sit here and openly talk about how you compare yourself to his friend who has no fault other than existing near such an insecure being as yourself.

"It's nothing you or her do. She's great. She treats me like we've been friends forever, even though I struggle to feel part of the group, she tries her best to make me feel included. I can see it."

Heeseung's shoulders visibly relax at that.

"I think you deserve better, and I know you love me. Or you wouldn't be here. I know that. I just can't wrap my head around why."

"Do I need a reason to?"

You recoil just the slightest, but it doesn't go unnoticed. He knows it's not the answer you expect, but it's the one you need to hear.

"I can sit here and list all the things I love about you, all the reasons my heart chose you, and always will. I can do that all night." His gaze somehow softens even more as he makes sure you listen to every single word. You see it, the love. The way his entire being chooses you again and again, second after second, even as he speaks. It never stops, every heartbeat a confirmation. "You don't need to give me a reason to be worthy of my love. Whatever mean thought you throw at yourself, all nasty lies your brain tells you, I know I can't just make them disappear into thin air. I wish I could. I wish I could take it all away right now, but I know I can't. We can try together, but it won't happen overnight. I just need you know, no matter how lowly you think of yourself, I love you as you are, and nothing will ever change that. You're my half, and I love all the uneven ridges. You think I need this perfect piece—which doesn't even exist—to complete me but the truth is that it wouldn't fit anyway. You do, and that's all the reason I'll ever need. It's okay if you don't think you're perfect, the truth is you're perfect for me."

By the time Heeseung stops to catch his breath, you're misty eyed, looking into his wild, blown up pupils. "I just feel like it's so hard to love me sometimes."

"I'll forget how to breathe before I forget to love you. Something so instinctual I need it to survive cannot possibly be hard. I think you're the easiest to love a human being has ever been."

You fall into a comfortable silence, different from the ones that preceded it. Heeseung rocks you back and worth in his embrace while you settle all the remaining ugly feelings. They're still there, but the buzzing is subsiding while Heeseung's love for you takes up the space. It's not that it grew louder, it doesn't need to, you just needed to pay more attention to it.

"I'm sorry," you say. The hardest part about opening up has always been the embarrassment coating you in a sticky sheen after, like an oil stain you can't quite scrub off. Like there is any shame in proving yourself to be human.

"Mhh," Heeseung purrs, his arms tightening their hold on you. "No need to be."

"I really hate causing a fuss about my feelings, but it seems to happen every time anyway."

"That's because you let them fester."

"I guess so. I just don't want to hurt other people with them."

"See? You need to stop doing that. They're your feelings and you're the one experiencing them. No matter how much you think talking about them will hurt other people for whatever reason, you're still gonna feel them anyway. And the more you bottle them up the worse they get. So doing that is definitely not a solution."

Heeseung is right, of course. Everything is more difficult because you're fully aware of the fact that you have a little bit of an overthinking problem going on, so you feel twice as bad for assigning intentions to actions and things someone has said in passing when there was no need for that at all. You're always on edge, but you know that you are. How do you even begin to address something you know you're blowing out of proportion?

Heeseung smoothens the wrinkles formed between your brows with his thumb. "You need to stop doing this too."

"Huh?"

"You think too much. You forget you're allowed to feel things regardless of the reason. You can feel, you don't need to find explanations for everything." He presses a quick kiss to the top of your head. "You can ask for reassurance, it's okay and we all need it sometimes. You have a doubt, you have an ugly little inkling in the back of your head, you come to me with it so we can get rid of it before it gets even worse. If I can do anything to make it better for you, I want to."

"Okay," you whisper. And a little bit of weight instantly lifts off your shoulders because you mean it. It won't be easy, and you might need some time before it's the default and not the exception when you cannot physically hold it together any longer, but it's a start and that's what matters.

Heeseung holds his pinky out for you, and you giggle, swatting his hand away when he brings it even closer to your face.

"I said i will!"

"Nuh-uh. Not enough."

You roll your eyes towards the ceiling, but comply anyway.

"Then?" Heeseung says, encouraging you to make the promise while your pinkies are intertwined.

"Fine," you sigh. "I promise to always come to you when something is off. No matter how stupid i think it is and no matter how infuriatingly perfect you are in comparison."

"Good." Heeseung seems to hesitate for a spare second. "I will too."

"What could Mr. Perfect even worry about?" You watch him as he gets up, groaning when he finally moves his limbs out of the position they've been in for the best part of the last hour. "Old age?"

"So funny." He stretches his arms, lifting his white shirt with the motion just enough to give you a peek of the hair leading down to his quite low waisted belt. "Plenty things. I lack so much, baby. You don't think so because I'm perfect for you, just as you're perfect for me. You're not alone in feeling the way that you do, I'm gonna start being more open about it because it wouldn't be fair to you if I didn't." The thought of your boyfriend hurting like you do is almost unbearable, and suddenly you understand why he's so hell bent on having you open up to him. You too want to help him.

He bends down again to press a fleeting kiss to your lips. "I see you the way you see me."

And somehow that's the nicest thing you've ever been told.

Good resolutions are only as good as resolutions get: useless if not put into practice.

Like Heeseung said, stopping from thinking so lowly about yourself isn't something you can do overnight. You already knew that in the heat of the moment, and even though you made a promise, sticking to it revealed to be harder than anticipated.

Two weeks passed from the day you broke down in tears in the middle of your room, and while that's not nearly enough time for any substantial change to have occurred, things have been overwhelmingly mundane for how big making that promise felt.

Wake up. Worry about how you look. Live life. Wow you don't deserve Heeseung. Fuck you said some stupid shit didn't you. Rinse and repeat.

And while Heeseung started sharing some of his worries with you here and there, trying to hopefully also get you to do it (who would have thought you needed a how to be a human tutorial? Actually, scratch that. That's so on brand.) you still struggle. Some things are way too dumb to even entertain the possibility of voicing out loud, while others are so deep rooted and complicated you don't even know where to start.

So you do what you've always done, squeeze more than you can handle into your flimsy human body, barely held together like a dam with a duct-taped gaping hole.

"Growing up, I used to wish I had a big extended family like yours. Loud, fun, so filled with love." Heeseung sits on his bed with a soft thud, head thrown back to look at his reflection on the ceiling mirror, a sad smile on his lips. "I spent most of my childhood alone, watching those sappy Christmas movies even though it was August, waiting for my parents to come home. I wish I had that so fucking badly. Aunt was never really around though, but I guess mom and dad weren't really either, so it couldn't be helped. I wonder why they don't make sappy big family summer vacation movies."

"No one would buy it," you say, swiping the cotton pad soaked in makeup remover beneath your eyes. "For some reason families getting along is more believable if it's the Holidays. Must be the Christmas spirit or something. But let me tell you, it's all bullshit."

"I guess so," Heeseung lays back, putting his weight on his elbow, and this time his focus is solely on you. Your back is turned to him, sat down on the soft rug. The dress you wore to dinner with your family is discarded on his gaming chair, and as unfortunate as that is, you're now wrapped in a baggy hoodie of his, so every cloud has a silver lining. Dress or hoodie, you look perfectly his. "You're the big extended family expert, not me. The grass is greener or whatever."

"The grass is dead on both sides."

"I suppose it is."

The room falls into silence while you finish taking off the remains of your makeup, the scent oozing from the hoodie wrapped around your body slowly soothing your nerves. Heeseung is still looking at you.

"You're creepy," you say, getting up to throw away the used cotton. You miss the trash can by quite a lot, so you pick it up again and toss it right in. "You and these low lights."

"You're pretty. And don't blame my choice of lighting for your piss poor aim."

Your knee dips into the soft mattress of Heeseung's bed, and he scoots closer to the edge to make room for you. "It really is the low lights."

Heeseung's hoodie, Heeseung's bed, and just Heeseung next to you. He's everywhere around you, and you wouldn't have it any other way. You're exhausted from the rough week you had, and as if that wasn't enough, the family dinner you'd dreaded the entire month drained you of whatever will to live you had left. You love your family, of course you do. You love them in the way children love their parents unconditionally, but not like you love the people you choose to keep in your life everyday. Growing up you were taught to value blood ties over any other relationship in your life, and the older you get, the more you realize it's because blood is the only thing you and your family have in common, the only thing keeping you together.

"Penny for your thought?" Heeseung whispers into your ear, his warm breath fanning your cheekbone.

"Families are complicated."

"Mh. Very true."

You turn your head ever so slightly, just enough to brush his nose with yours. He takes it as an invitation, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest wordlessly. By the way your shoulders relax the second his warmth is on you, you know he knows it was the right thing to do. His heartbeat drums against your shoulder, steady and comforting, so you try to match your breathing to it. His lips twitch a few times, and you can tell he's holding something back. "What's the matter?"

"I was wondering, you can always not tell me if you don't want to, and maybe I'm making a big deal out of nothing but—I was wondering if something happened in the kitchen, after you went to help with the dessert and the dishes. I know you weren't exactly excited for tonight, but everything seemed good until… until you came out of there." Heeseung looks into your eyes for a sign of something—what exactly you don't know—but he seems to find it right away, because his grip on you tightens, and with it so does the knot in your throat.

"Nothing out of the ordinary." You look away, his gaze too much too bear, and you clear your throat. The mirror above you reflects the dim, warm lights of Heeseung's bedroom, and with them, both of your figures. Even when you look away from him, you see the way he's completely focused on you, it's like you can't escape the sight of it no matter which direction you turn your eyes to. Heeseung knows, Heeseung sees, and his entire room makes sure you don't forget. "Aunt makes some comments… she always has. It hurts me, everyone tells me she doesn't know better."

"And what do you think? Does she know it hurts you?"

"I'm not sure."

You think about it sometimes. Your family makes off handed comments, says things you would never dare say to anyone, yet you're expected to always take it. It's not even about forgiving time and time again, because to them there's nothing to forgive. If you complain or express your hurt, you're too sensitive. They're older, from another generation, they don't know any better. But you're an adult too now, and you've grown as a person with every passing year, you've learned from your mistakes. How come they never do? If you give them a single droplet of their own medicine, they call it disrespect, they call it being mean to your elders. They know it's wrong, just not when it comes to you.

"I used to think they were jokes when I was a child, but now I look at other kids and I would never make fun of them that way. It's not even things I notice, who picks on children for the way they sit, they laugh, they talk, for the way they look? It doesn't even cross my mind. Then the comments keep going, you see me for the first time in months and the first thing you tell me is that the color of my dress looks bad on me. I don't understand."

"She told you that?" Heeseung's hand wraps around yours, touch light but steady, and brings it to his lips when you nod.

"That, and so much more. When I finally make some progress, when I start being kinder to myself, a simple visit to my family undoes it all in the matter of hours. I tell myself all of these thoughts I have… they're mine and no one else's. I tell myself I scrutinize too hard, that no one else sees me this way or even notices me long enough to pick up on this stuff. But then my family just—they just crack my head open and use all of it against me. Like they can read my mind—which they can't do—so really, maybe all of these thoughts are just the way things are."

A tear slips down your cheek, but Heeseung's lips are on it before you can flick it away yourself. He lingers on your skin, hand still secure around yours, while the other scratches at your head gently, waiting for you to get it all off your chest.

So you do, even when the tiny voice inside your brain yells at you to stop, tells you you sound whiny and annoying, bothering him with things that are not really that important in the grand scheme of things, even when you know he wants to know. He wants to help. Everything in your body is begging you to just shut up, but you don't. You've shut up for a long, long time, and what good did it bring you?

"I was ten years old, begging mom to leave me home because I'd put a bit of weight on and I knew that would be the first thing my aunt would comment on. It was always like this, not a 'hi', not an 'i missed you'. Just straight to 'we need to put you on a diet'. My cousins got the opposite, and we'd stay up all night talking about how anxious visiting aunt made us. Then I was sixteen, and was growing into a woman, so all I got was comparisons. I watched them—aunts and older cousins—rank us younger ones from prettiest to least. Even back then I remember thinking how fucked up that was. Really, who the fuck does that? The guys never got any of this. Growing up, it brought us closer. Now that we're older, I think it pulled us further apart. I hear them make the same jabs that would have them crying in my arms a few years back, to the younger ones, like it's some sort of rite of passage. I want to scream at them, I see the effects they have on the kids, but I'm no mother, and definitely not theirs. I fear they're gonna grow up to be like me."

"That would be the best thing that could possibly happen," Heeseung says, and he means it. You see it in his starry eyes, the way he looks at you like you hold the truth of the world within you. While being adored like this is not something one can get used to, it's a truth you're passively aware of, and that sometimes fades in the back and blends with everything else. Because it doesn't burn brightly and fast, it's composed, a soft murmur in the background, until it zaps you out of nowhere in moments like this. It's paralyzing, a scoff the only response you can manage. "Really. I mean it."

Sometimes you think it would be easier if you didn't believe it.

"Then I was twenty, and everyone but me got into relationships. The running opinion was that I'm just too hard to deal with, not worth the trouble. For some too quiet and shy, for others too emotional and with a real bad temper. Too bitchy. My biggest mistake and fault was being human when perfection was the minimum required out of the women in my family. It feels worse because that's where all the vitriol comes from, even if in different ways, they all went through this. How do you grow up like this and not know better? They spent evenings dissecting every part of me and building me back up in their minds into this being that had nothing to do with me. They made assumptions based on how I sat, how I greeted strangers, how I hosted, never once stopped to have a conversation with me. They decided I'm no good for a man and held it against me, as if that's where all our worth as women lays."

The lamp flickers once, then twice, but Heeseung's attention on you never falters. He listens to you like nothing but the words dripping out of your lips matters, his hold on you tight when it needs to be, and soft when your chest heaves a little too much.

"Then you came, and I thought I'd finally proven them wrong, but they think it was just luck, they thought we wouldn't last."

"But we did."

"We did. And they're almost bitter about it." You shift to lay your head on Heeseung's chest, and he presses another kiss to the top of your head. Your heart is lighter but somehow tighter in your chest, sharing your burdens with someone else does feel good, but it doesn't take away from the pain, or the childish wish that things were different.

"Then we keep proving them wrong," Heeseung says. "And make them even more bitter."

You let out a humorless laugh. "You have nothing to prove, they adore you. You could wake up and cheat tomorrow and they'd find a way to blame me for fumbling you."

"You don't have to prove them wrong either. You can if you want to, because we both know you're so much more than they give you credit for, but it's not something you have to do. Their opinion doesn't define you. Even if they randomly decide to rethink all of it, you'd still be the same person."

You hum, deep and rich from within. "You're right, I still chase for their approval in everything I do."

"We don't have to go to these dinners all the time if it's best for you to stay away from your family for a little. You can take a little distance." Heeseung looks down at you when you move upwards to rest your cheek on the juncture between his neck and shoulder. You pout, pondering on how helpful that would be but also knowing your presence is expected regardless of your feelings or well being.

"It's not exactly optional."

"Why?" He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, when to you it's the wildest possible option.

"Family comes before everything."

"Even when you're hurt like this?"

You nod before thinking, like it's seared into your DNA, a notion that shouldn't be challenged no matter what. It would hurt your parents, cause problems and drama for the relatives you actually like. It's not like it's all dark and bleak, if it was, things would be so much easier in a way, taking your space would feel justified.

"You don't have to just disappear, you know. It's your family, and it's your choice, but maybe sometimes you should establish harsher boundaries, and if they're not respected that's enough reason to skip a dinner or visit here and there. Hell, you don't even need a reason. If you don't feel like going, that's enough." Heeseung gives you a long look. "Please stop putting everyone else above what you truly want and need. No one's sitting here thanking you for the sacrifices you make. I'd say they're not even noticed. Think of yourself first, try it just one time."

It's harsh, but you it's what you need to hear. Some sick part of you wants to take some of your words back, find a way to defend their behavior. You smother the fire before you lose control of it.

"Okay." You take a deep breath, maybe the most important you have ever taken, and your shoulders feel lighter while the weight on your chest makes dent. Nonetheless, you do what's right for you. "I will."

"I know. Yes. I'm sorry, I really can't make it this time." You throw an exasperated look towards Heeseung, who is in the middle of eating all the seeded grapes you hate out of your fruit salad. "Something came up—"

"What could possibly be more important?" Your mom's voice on the other end of the call is accusatory in a way that would have anyone recoil at the sound of it, but to you, that's just regular schedule.

"Not more important, just—"

"What will everyone think? You're gonna embarrass us."

There it is. You'd spent the entire week worrying about upsetting your mom, when really all she cared about was making a good impression on everyone else. You feel for her, it must be exhausting to always put a performance on for the same people that are supposed to know you like the back of their hand, love you regardless of anything. She was raised like this, it's all she's ever known, but that doesn't mean you have to perform as well. You don't have to, and Heeseung's been helping you break away from the chains adults have put on you since you were a kid.

He reaches his hand towards you, whispering a quiet "I'll handle it."

You're thankful for his intervention, handing him the phone like it would burn to hold it any longer, but a part of you is sad that you couldn't hold your ground until the very end of the call. He leaves the room briefly, and you sit there picking at the fruit salad, your stomach closed from the stress telling your mom you refuse to go to the family dinner scheduled for the weekend brought you.

You abandon the plastic container on the nightstand, crawling into the bed and lowering the sleeves of your boyfriend's hoodie until they cover your palms completely. The headboard is uncomfortable behind your head, but all you care about is distracting yourself from the soft conversation happening in the other room. You breathe loudly through your mouth, sing random tunes inside your head, try to think of anything other than the disappointment you've caused today.

"My god," Heeseung walks into his room again, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "They need to add you to the calendar of saints."

"She's gonna hold a grudge. I'll be fifty and she'll still take any chance to mention today."

"Well, she better get used to this, because from now on, we'll skip all the gatherings you want." Heeseung sits on the end of his bed, his warm hand caressing the exposed skin of your ankle. The slightest touch of his soothes you, and as always the realization of just how much power he has on you makes your stomach flutter in both fear and delight.

"Thank you for talking to her for me. I was starting to think that maybe I should get over myself and just go."

"Anytime, baby. I hope I didn't take away your moment or anything."

You let out a laugh that is halfway to a scoff. As if. Your boyfriend has the incredible gift of knowing when to leave you alone in handling your shit, and when you need him to help you, without needing a single word from you. Had he not intervened today, you would've folded just to make your mom happy, even if it meant going through hours of what you would in all honestly call psychological horror.

Aunt's harsh words from last time still poison your mind from time to time, the last thing you need is a second course of them before you can even get over the first. To be frank, you would only see your family during the Holidays if it were up to you. And it is, that's Heeseung's whole point, one would assume everyone knows they possess free will, but apparently you need to manually learn to make use of it. Thinking about it, you're not even sure if you'd spend the Holidays with your family out of your own want, or only as a way to make Heeseung happy, since it's something he's always yearned for, and he has no real family now to go back home to. Other than you and his friends, that is.

"I wish I could let their judgment roll off my back. Then there would be no need to go to such lengths. I feel like a teenager skipping class." You play with the strings of Heeseung's hoodie, rolling them between your fingers absentmindedly. You could always just get up and start getting ready, but the weight in the pit of your stomach at the thought of it crushes you still. Too cowardly to face your own mother and set boundaries, too scared to straighten your shoulders and walk through that door with your head held up high. Fear freezes you in place, and you wish you could stop time for a little. "I feel disgusting enough as it is, I don't need a night long reminder of how not pretty I am."

You gave Heeseung an idea of what happened last time you two visited your family, when you wandered into the kitchen with nothing but good intentions, and accidentally set foot into a trap. But you didn't really go into heavy detail. Your aunt saw the group pictures you and everyone else took at Heeseung's birthday party. That day, you'd spent hours dolling yourself up for him, planned the look for so long admitting it out loud was humiliating. For the first time in very long, you felt beautiful. Not just pretty, or cute, but beautiful. All of that, only for your aunt to pull out the pictures right there in front of you and point Yuna out. If that alone didn't hurt you—it did, considering how inferior you already felt when it came to her—worry not! Because she went on to comment on how real gorgeous girls don't need to overdo it to draw all the attention on themselves, an obvious jab. She spared no words for you, other than telling you to pick a more flattering color next time, before Heeseung realizes he's out of your league, and then to really add salt to injury, mentioned how good they would look together.

Despite how beautiful you felt on his birthday, that interaction completely destroyed the confidence you had left.

When you're not spending the night at Heeseung's, you lay awake picking your appearance apart in those same pictures. Suddenly the dress is ill fitting, your makeup a little messy from all the dancing, your hair not as well styled as you thought it to be. You notice how your lipstick settles into the lines of your lips and how the polish on one of your nails is chipped, how your hair got puffier and how your nose crinkled in a way you don't like when you smile too wide. Yuna looks flawless, her smile bright as ever, picture perfect like she just rolled out of a salon even when caught off guard in a more candid shot. It makes sense for her to be perfect like that, you however? The more you spend time analyzing every little detail you never noticed before, the more it starts to look like a mask with cracks littered all over it, imperfections peeking through even the most desperate attempt to hide them.

You never talked about it with Heeseung, even after the day he made you promise to always let him into your mind when you needed someone to help you sort through your thoughts, too afraid to taint the memory of such an happy night. But it weighs you down, tremendously so. If by day you busy yourself too much to overthink your appearance, by night the demon on your shoulder yells too loud for you to ignore it.

"What?"

The worst part of it, is that Heeseung is genuinely confused. Like you questioning your looks is some kind of outlandish joke. You really wish it was.

"You? Disgusting? Are you out of your mind?" he says, and yeah, by his reaction, out of your mind sounds about right.

"It's just sometimes, we all have our moments, you know—I don't even have enough time to worry about it that much!" You downplay your feelings towards the flesh cage you call body, because fuck if that's not the most embarrassing thing to talk about with someone else ever. At least top three.

"Why have you never brought this up?"

"I don't know. It feels stupid. Superficial." And it is. You would never waste Heeseung's time like this.

"It's as untrue as all the other things." He inches closer to you, barely, but you notice it, hyper aware of the warmth radiating off of him.

"I told you growing up, I didn't really stand out. I guess this is why I feel the like this."

"But you're the most gorgeous woman I've ever my laid eyes on," Heeseung says, bending down to press his lips against your exposed calf, his thumb still massaging your ankle.

The sight of your boyfriend quite literally at your feet makes your chest erupt from within, and you'd be lying if you said it doesn't make you feel things someone who was just lamenting about the body, the mind and state of things tm shouldn't feel. Damn Heeseung and the effect he has on you.

"In the morning before you get to fix your hair," he says against your skin, lips light and barely ghosting over your skin but his words searing. He moves up, slow and deliberate, taking all the time in the world. His palm moves to the back of your leg, tugging it towards his mouth as he keeps kissing up to your knee, his eyes never leaving yours. "With your makeup experiments before a shower, and with water dripping off of you after." His kisses turn wetter, open mouthed and give space for his tongue to taste the saltiness of your skin when you least expect it.

Breath hitches in your throat when he reaches your thighs, watching the sweet man from mere moments ago turn into danger right before your eyes. "Hee—"

"Mh-mh. I haven't done my part as well as I thought I did if you have a single doubt about your beauty left." His voice demands all attention to be on him, and with every words he speaks the room seems to get smaller, a cage for you and him, one you hope to never leave. "My beautiful baby, when our schedules clash—" He skips over your upper thighs, catching you by surprise. Instead, he lifts the hoodie covering your waist and wraps his hands around all he can get, greedy as ever. He places soft pecks on pecks on your lower stomach even when you recoil back just the slightest bit, taken by surprise. "And I come back to you sleeping so prettily in my bed, even when I'm exhausted, I stay awake as long as I can. You look so peaceful, so cozy, in my bed. And most of the time you have my clothes on—fuck. You don't know what it does to me."

You tug weakly at his hair, but it only spurs him on. He licks a stripe from your lower tummy to right below your belly button, and you audibly gasp at this. You're ticklish, you've always been, so your legs kick a bit, yet you can't help but part them further to make space for your boyfriend. His heartbeat is pressed right on your heat, only a thin shirt of his and your even thinner underwear diving you two.

He presses a quick fluttering kiss to your belly button, and your torso lifts off the bed and pushes against him in response. It earns a laugh from him, airy and boyish just like you know his happy laugh to be. "You're so cute. I want to eat you right up." His hands keep lifting the hoodie, facilitating the trail of kisses he's giving you, but the higher he goes, the wetter and messier it gets. By the time he reaches your bra your skin is glistening, and his open mouthed worship turns into small little nibbles that have your back arching against him. "Can I?" Heeseung rests his head on your covered chest, looking up at you so innocently you almost get whiplash. His hands are behind your back, toying with the clasp of your bra, and every time they intentionally ghost on your bare skin there your whole body erupts in goosebumps.

"Only if you hurry up and touch me where I really need you to." Your fingers thread through the strands on his head again, this time gentler, and you almost coo at the way he nuzzles further into your touch.

"In due time, baby," he says as he slides the hoodie off of you. Before you can lay back on the bed, he pulls you into a languid kiss. Your breathing is uneven, even when all you've done is lay there and let him mouth at your body. A small moan escapes you when he bites your lip and pulls it gently, the press of his already hard cock against your core anything but. "Be patient for me, yeah?"

You're eager to please, nodding your head before he can finish the sentence fully, sitting up with your elbow digging into the white sheets just enough to allow him space to rid you of your bra. He unclasps it with one hand, a quick motion that's become routine by now, but never fails to have need pool violently in your lower belly. Your thighs clench around his hips, and the cocky smile Heeseung rewards you with knocks the breath—or what's left of it—out of yours lungs.

"You're so good for me. Fuck—look at these." Heeseung's voice breaks into a whiny tone, and it's the hottest it has ever sounded.

His head dips down immediately, not caring to see where the bra lands after he throws it, and his tongue flicks your nipple a few times, playfully testing the waters and tasting your skin. The second you give him what he want, the cute little gasps of pleasure he adores so much, he latches his mouth on you completely, switching between sucking and rolling your nipple between his lips just when you think he's built a steady rhythm he's satisfied with.

He keeps you on your toes, one hand rubbing circles on your waist while the other swipes gently on the nipple his mouth is not occupied with. He kisses, licks, switches to the other and moans around it when your fingers pull his hair like you need it to ground yourself. His teeth graze your most sensitive spot every so often and knowing he could bite harder but doesn't sends electricity coursing through you from head to toe and then back to your head again, until all the things that filled your mind fade into the back, replaced by him and his scent and his mouth on you.

You throw your head back against Heeseung's pillow, and the scent of his green apple shampoo envelopes you completely. You sigh softly, more relief than pleasure but mostly a mix of both, giving him free reign over and your body. You allow him to love it, you allow him to love you. Part of you might even think you deserve it, after all the stress you've put yourself through.

"There we go, sweetness." Heeseung detaches from your sensitive nipple, slick threads of spit following him while his hand keeps kneading the other. "Relax and let me do the work, alright? I don't want you to worry about a single thing." He kisses along your jaw, soothes the pulse of your neck with his tongue, until he reaches your lobe. His voice is steamy against your ear when he speaks, his hands dipping lower so he can hook his thumbs on your panties. "We're gonna take these off too, yeah? You've made a mess of them, baby. But I wanna see your pretty pussy bare. Will you let me?"

"Please—please take them off, Hee," you say, angling your head towards his mouth, searching for his lips with yours once again. "Please, I wanna feel you."

He gives in to both requests, worded and silent alike. He slides the panties off your hips while kissing the air out of you. It's messy, open mouthed and wet, closer to an exchange of spit than anything else, but you love it. You let Heeseung know just how much by suckling on this tongue.

"You're so hot, such a doll." He bites your lip to remind you who's in charge, but you don't miss the groan that leaves him or the way his eyebrows scrunch tighter.

Cold air hits your pussy when Heeseung lowers the fabric slowly, dragging out the action more than usual. He reluctantly leaves your lips, but the sight that greets him makes up for it tenfold. "Prettiest fucking pussy on the planet."

"You've seen all of them?" You giggle, but it dies down when you notice the expression on his face.

Lip caught between his teeth, eyes dark pools of lust, he watches the way you twitch in anticipation and drip all over his sheets. The curve of your hip, the swell of your tits, the marks of his bites all over your stomach, your beautiful face and your lips bitten raw. He takes it all in with no urgency, like he has all the time in the world to do so. You see it then, how he looks at you like you're the most precious piece of art, a masterpiece gifted to him, and the marks he leaves on you the perfect finishing touches.

"I don't know how you don't get horny when you see yourself in a mirror."

This time, you laugh. "Mh. Nothing of the sort."

"It's okay. We can work on that."

Heeseung undoes his brown leather belt, the loud sound of metal clinking enough to make you push your hips towards his. He is about to unbutton his jeans when the unmistakable ringtone you picked out for your mom specifically fills the room.

Your heart leaps into your throat for a second, like it does every time she calls, like you've come to expect nothing good out of it. If Heeseung is annoyed, he doesn't show it, simply reaching into his back pocket for your phone, and silencing it right there and then.

"I should probably get—"

"I don't think you should. I won't stop you, but I really don't think you should." He pins you down to the bed with his eyes alone, as if challenging you to disobey. You know your mom is only calling you again to persuade you to go to the gathering, hoping enough time passed from the conversation she had with Heeseung for you two to not be around each other anymore. She counts on you to fold when he's not backing you up, and while you'd agree with her if she were to tell you that your spine is made out of jello when it comes to your family, you realize you have had enough. Today you decide to prove her wrong.

"I don't want to answer that," you say, and for once your voice doesn't shake, you don't sound unsure of the words coming out of you.

"Good call, my love." He sets the phone face down on the nightstand, then guides your back down on the bed again. "It's only me and you right now, okay? No need to worry about anything else." He finally kicks his jeans off, giving you the perfect sight of his hard bulge fighting against the constraints of his light gray boxers. There's a wet spot, darker than the rest of the fabric, right where his tip is nestled, and you get lightheaded at the thought of him being this turned on by simply kissing up your body, by simply seeing you the way you are. He hovers over your body, but you tug at his shirt before he can fully reposition himself.

"Off, please. I wanna see you too."

The shirt comes off in one swift motion, and you get a moment to gawk at your boyfriend while he discards it somewhere on the floor. His shoulders look even broader naked, and his figure is very softly shaded by the lighting peeking through the window. Your eyes trail from his dark shaded nipples, all the way down to the tuff of hair fading into his boxers.

"I know, baby. You know exactly how it feels like." Heeseung spreads your thighs apart with a secure grip, bending them towards you to get the clearest view of your cunt possible. "I want to make sure the only thing in that little evil head of yours is how beautiful you are. You already know I think it, but I think it's time I remind you."

A surprised gasp leaves you when his lips collide with the plush skin of your thighs, legs slowly pushed open more, until they start aching in that burning way that you don't mind at all. Heeseung kisses all over them, leaving no inch of you unloved, and you wish he would reserve some of that mercy for your fluttering hole that is begging for any attention at all. If he's loving and devoted to your thighs, he's cruel to your pussy. "Hee, please—"

The sound he makes is barely one of acknowledgement, more admonishing. Taking his sweet sweet time in giving what you want isn't something new for Heeseung, when it comes to sex, that is. In the moment, all you want to so is complain, and whine, and annoy him until he hurries up and gives in, but that doesn't exactly get you anywhere most of the time, especially when he's so hell bent on proving a point as he is today. All is good though, because he has never once skipped on delivering you exactly what you need and more.

So really, the only option left is to lay there and let him do his thing until he's had his fill.

His mouth skirts across the expanse of your skin, kissing and licking, gently nibbling here and there until he finds a spot he likes enough to suck marks on. He blooms you up in shades of deep reds and purples, and when even that isn't enough to convey just how he feels about your thighs, he bites on your flesh hard enough for your hips to twitch in his face, but never enough to actually bring harm. His teeth leave tiny indents he's instantly obsessed with, his tongue lapping them up to sooth the sting. He watches you as he does it, holding your eyes through it like he's reminding you he's holding himself back from swallowing you whole.

"And when you'll wear those flimsy mini skirts and dresses I know you keep hidden in the back of your closet, too afraid to be judged," Heeseung says as he inches closer to your core, breath that was warm against your skin turning colder and colder the closer he gets. Your pussy is feverish against his lips when they brush faintly over it, gone in one second. Your whine is loud and with a bratty edge to it, so it goes ignored as he continues. "The ones that make my cock so fucking hard when you give me a little show after you shop with your girl friends—yeah, those ones."

You try your best to not chase his mouth, really, you do. But he makes it impossibly hard with the way every words hits your most sensitive part after every single syllable. Almost like a test where he set you up for failure, and when you do, lower back lifting off the bed without your permission, he giggles into it with such devastating sweetness you're actually glad for your body's betrayal. The vibrations of his laugh have you pressing into him further, and he places a tender kiss on your clit to placate you. "When you wear them, not if or maybes, I want to show you off to everyone around us. I want them all to look at these marks and know how fucking much I love your thighs, how badly obsessed I am with you and every inch of you."

Your hand slides back into his hair, trying to will him closer. You want more, need more. Now that he gave you an inch, you want to take the whole arm.

"Greedy thing, you are." Heeseung spreads your folds with his fingers, biting into his bottom lip so hard it could bleed any second. Wetness seeps out of you, and before it's wasted, his tongue laps it up like it's worth gold. "Taste as good as you look. Mhh, baby. You're so fucking wet for me." Another lick, from your hole to your clit, complete with a gentle suckle on it. He flicks it with his tongue a few time, enough to get you moaning and panting, with your free hand clawing at the bedsheets and then at his shoulder. "You love it when I tease you, right?"

"Mhh, no—fuck." You moan when his front teeth touch your clit, the light show it fires inside of you making your back arch off the mattress.

"But you do. The proof is right here," Heeseung says it with that faux condescension that makes your head spin and your cunt wetter. His thumb plays with the slick pooling at your entrance, and when your hips move too much for his liking, he holds them down with no room for wiggling with his free arm. He gathers all the slick he can, this time ignoring your poor little bundle of nerves, and pops his thumb into his mouth, licking it clean like a man starved.

"Heeseung, oh my god. Please just fucking do something." You grumble lightly and yank his hair, tired of his attention being pulled away from your wet core. You have to stifle a moan when he groans from the pain.

"This pussy is so needy, baby. Trust that I know it. But if I'm gonna make her happy, I need you to do something first."

That piques your interest, and your fingers release the death grip hold you have on his poor hair. His scalp must be sore by now. He wordlessly positions himself behind you, your side pushing onto the bed and your other shoulder warmed by the pants leaving his mouth. His hand rubs down you side, to the curve of your hip and into your inner thigh, spreading you open with the help of his knee. His hard cock is nestled right against your ass, incredibly distracting and inviting, the hand gripping your thigh just as bad.

"You see that?" Heeseung kisses your neck before angling your had with his free hand, digits digging but not quite into your cheeks, so you can see the reflection on the mirror installed into the ceiling. "I want you to praise yourself while you watch."

"That—Heeseung, that's humiliating."

"Then why did I feel you push your ass back on me, mhh? Why did you twitch like that?"

"Hee, I really can't. I don't even believ–"

"Oh, you will. You'll do it until you believe what you say."

What you see in the mirror is downright nasty. Your entire body exposed right there, it's almost wrong to see it in such an erotic scene, the same pile of flesh and nerve endings that more often than not causes you so much pain and misery. Most of Heeseung's body is covered by yours, and it feels wrong in a way, but you suspect it's intentional.

Your heart drums hard against your ribcage, uncertainty gnawing in your belly. "I don't know where to start."

Heeseung presses a long kiss behind your ear, thumb swiping on your inner thigh in reassurance. "We'll take it slow, okay? Let's go stop by step." He waits for you to nod, before continuing, "What's your favorite feature, baby?"

You think about, once, twice, rack your brain for an answer that is both heartfelt and not humiliating, but have nothing to show for. Heeseung is patient, never once rushing you, never once demanding more than you can handle. When you speak again, your voice is smaller, more fragile. Vulnerable. Something you've always been terrified of being. "I don't—I don't have one. What's yours?"

"Not the point right now, my love. It has to be yours." Heeseung's fingers, already dangerously close, slip even higher up your thigh, until you can barely focus on the question you're supposed to be answering.

"My eyes!" you blurt out, and regret it the second it leaves your lips, yeah the most cliche answer you could've gone with, definitely not what Heeseung wants to—

"The prettiest eyes ever, you're right my love." He taps the fingers that were holding your jaw next to your eye. "Watch your reflection, just like that, mh mh. Tell that to yourself in the mirror. I'm right here, okay?"

And you do. "I have pretty eyes." You swallow hard, but despite how embarrassed you are, you can't deny saying it does feel good.

"You're doing so well for me, baby. So fucking well. Give me another one, mhh? What else."

The second time around is easier, the answer slipping out of you before you have time to really think too hard about it. "My lips, I like them."

"Mhh." Heeseung pecks them, both to reinforce your positive thought and as a thank you for the kind words coming out of them, which he has not heard in a while. "Gorgeous. I want to kiss you all day. When you bite them, play with them while focusing, you have no idea what that does to me." Heat rushes to your cheeks, or well, all over you. His hand finally cups your heat fully, making your hips chase for more friction. "Tell me more, keep going."

The third time, you falter. Talking about the individual features on your face is one thing, but the entirety of it? Or worse, your body?

"Heeseung," you plead, feeling the familiar sting of tears and itchiness behind your nose quickly build up.

"You asked me what my favorite part of you is, right? Well baby, what would you say? What do you think mine is?"

"I have no idea, Hee—"

"That's right. I don't have one. It's you, the entirety of you. I love it all because I love you, the parts you like and the ones you don't." His finger dips between your folds, collecting your slick carefully before pushing in. The moan you give him is the best reward, but still, he needs more from you. "It's hard, my love, I understand. So repeat after me, alright? Just please, allow yourself to believe it." The finger inside you slowly withdraws, before entering you again, and Heeseung sets a pace between torture and pleasure. "You have the most beautiful face on the planet, my gorgeous. I stop to look at you whenever I have the chance. When you're doing the dishes, when I'm doing the dishes and you waltz into the room with a blanket wrapped around you because you get cold so ridiculously fast. When you're laying in bed scrolling aimlessly through your phone until you come across something that excites you so much you have to take a quick walk around the room. You light up in ways I can't put into words, and you're always the most beautiful, but somehow you're even more so when you have this look of happiness you can't contain, before you try to quiet it down for the sake of no one."

Everything is overwhelming when he's touching you like no one else will ever know how to, talking right into your ear with his tone rough and raw from restraint, saying things no one else will ever know to say. Another finger joins the one slowly fucking you open, your legs spreading wider in response. He's hot, thick and throbbing against your bottom half, and by now you don't need to take another look at the precum pooling through the fabric to know it's there. It drags almost imperceptibly against you, his hips moving on their own accord to find any friction. Heeseung is a very, very patient man, unbearably so, but even he can go only so long neglecting his needs.

You reach behind yourself for his cock, palming it through the thin fabric caging it. As clumsy as your movements are, it's enough for him to push harder against your palm, giving you the hottest pleasured breaths right next to your ear.

"'Wanna feel you, Hee." You moan, throwing your head back into his mouth that's licking stripes all over your neck. The hand between your thighs keeps working you up, and when he adds the brush of his thumb over your clit, you forget what you're supposed to be doing.

"Me too, baby. Want to fill you up so fucking bad." He bites your earlobe, pressing his hips harder and harder into you, the pace of his fingers never faltering. "But you have something to say first. Tell me how pretty your face is."

You want to curse him for being so damn stubborn, but that wouldn't change the fact that you agreed to do it, so now you must. "My face is pretty."

"Not quite there. Eyes open and on the mirror. Again." The circles he's drawing on your tiny nerve bundle grow faster, making focusing on what Heeseung says and his instructions get harder as well.

"My face—fuck, Hee—my face is so pretty." You lock eyes with yourself through the mirror, then travel down to the sight of Heeseung's fingers pumping in and out of you, the squelching noises that you would've found mortifying, now turning you on more than you already are.

"The prettiest." Heeseung encourages.

"The prettiest. My face is the prettiest."

"What a good girl. You're right. So fucking perfect. You deserve a reward for this, yeah?"

You nod enthusiastically when he pulls away, lowering his boxers and kicking them off, then turning back to find you already looking at him with your lip between your teeth. He's heavy, thick and veiny, a darker shade than the rest of his body, and his tip flushed with a red tint. He fists it a few time, before adjusting himself underneath you, this time both of his knees completely spreading your legs open from below, his chest flush with back.

The position he puts you in leaves you no choice but take every single inch of your exposed body in. His hand is back on your jaw to your gaze steady in front of you, closing your eyes the only way to escape it, but the way he watches you through the mirror like a hawk tells you that's not an option either.

"You're gonna tire yourself out too much holding me like—"

"I have a confession to make," he whispers wet close to your cheek. His free hand aligning the tip of his cock to your entrance, a guttural laugh vibrating through him and on your back when your hole tries to suck him in the second you feel the heaviness push into you. "The night of my birthday—mhh, fuck baby. You're so tight." He pushes in more and more, the stretch setting, your sounds a mix between a moan and a hiss. "I almost cancelled the whole party, just to spend the night with you. That's how good you looked." Your senses are on overdrive, and the sight of Heeseung slowly reach the deepest he can, his balls snug against your pussy lips, smeared in your essence. He starts pushing out, hand on your waist to prop you up so he can bend his knees for leverage and work towards setting a pace, still slow to not overwhelm you completely. "The pic of you in that dress I keep in my wallet? I've fucked my fist to it more times that I can count."

Your entire body feels the effects of his words, shivering, twitching everywhere like he's tickling you, your toes bending inwards to try to keep it together. Your sounds grow louder, his thrusts getting harsher the more you try to stifle them.

"Do I sound crazy?" He grazes hit teeth along the pulse point of your neck, and your breath gets stuck in your throat like it hurts to let it out. "You make me this way."

"Oh my god, Hee."

"Feels good?"

"So good, fuck."

"That's what I like to hear. You were made for me, beautiful doll handcrafted down to the details. Fuck, I'm obsessed."

The sound of skin slapping, wet smacking and pleasured moans fills the room in a sinful fog, and the perfect background for the pornographic image your boyfriend is delighting you with. When it's Heeseung's arms around you, his marks all over your skin, even with sweaty mess for hair and spit slobbering down your chin for makeup, you don't dislike the way you look. You might find it hot, even. Somehow, you find the bounce of your tits with every thrust of his hips hypnotizing, the stretchmarks around your hips a decoration instead of a flaw, and maybe, just maybe, you see what he means for once.

"Keep looking at how sexy you are like this, for the two us. Not just when you're all dolled up, I'm crazy for you every single day of my life, my mind is plagued by you no matter what I do. And I love it."

Your mouth hangs open when his thumb finds your clit again, the circles he draws on it lazy, on the slower side, the complete opposite of his precise thrusts.

"Do you have any idea how many wet dreams I have about you? And you wanna sit here and tell me you're not hot?" Your walls flutter, constricting his thick length enough for a broken hum to leave him. His voice gets scratchier, more desperate as he speaks, but he never finishes before you do, so he slows down the pace a little, opting for deeper strokes. "I wake up with your perfect ass on my cock and I have to get myself off in the shower before you even wake up every other day, when either of us is staying over. You go about your day without thinking twice about having my hoodie on, licking breakfast out of a spoon—you're so cruel, baby. It takes me everything, every single fucking thing to not bend you over the counter and have my way with you all day long."

Your head is slumped against Heeseung, and it's lighter than it's ever been. You struggle to keep your eyes open, wanting nothing more than to close them and let the physical sensations swallow you fully. The fire burning behind your chest is where it all starts, but your entire body feels the warmth of it, all of your limbs tingling like you can tell apart every drop of blood from the others. Keeping your sounds in is no longer an option, freeing them the only form of anchor you have left to reality. It's so, so good, better than it's ever been. Too good, even.

Heeseung's hand leaves your jaw and descends to wrap around your neck, firm but not harsh or pushy, and your pussy squeezes his cock so hard he barely stops from getting pushed out. "You like this, mhh? Of course you do." The circles he's simultaneously drawing on your clit speed up, actively working to get you to cum all around him. "This, is how it feels to see you." Fingers start to put pressure on the sides of your neck, squeezing just enough to cut any thought off. "You have me breathless."

The mirror turns hazy as your vision blurs, and if you though you couldn't float to a higher space, you were wrong, because nothing has ever made you feel so airy and empty in the best way possible. No worries, no thoughts running through your mind for sport, nothing but full, thick and otherworldly pleasure.

"I'm close, fuck, close, sosososo close." You warn Heeseung just before it all comes crashing down on you, your vision already blurry from the hold on your neck turning a blackout white, your juices spilling everywhere and making a mess of the sheets beneath you. Your legs shake, cunt fluttering harder than it ever has around your boyfriend's cock. Your weight drops on him, and he uses it to his advantage, allowing himself to fuck into you from below with all the strength he possesses, pistoning in and out of you, your slick gushing and squelching with each move.

You're still coming by the time he bites down on your shoulder as he comes inside you in thick spurts, stuffing you full to the brim. He comes so much, even when his thrusts—sloppy after the orgasm, just trying ride both of your heights out as best as he could—eventually slow down, his cum is still leaking out of you and down his balls, dripping on the soaked sheets.

"Holy fuck," Heeseung mutters, forehead pressed on your shoulder, so sweaty but you have no clue wether it's you or him, most likely both. The room stinks and so do you. "You make me cum so much." He moves to your side, but when he's about to get up, you yank him down again.

"You haven't even caught your breath yet," you say, voice hoarse. "Besides, you owe me cuddles, that was…"

His eyes flash with concern when you trail off. "Too much? Did I hurt you, baby? Was I too rough? I'll go run—"

"The best orgasm of my life."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"You tend to have that effect on people, must've been your sight."

You throw a dirty look at him, but he doesn't catch it because he's too busy turning your phone around to look at your lock screen. It's a picture of Heeseung holding your cat like a baby, matching vests and everything, which, for the record, can't even be seen at the moment because the screen is covered by a slew of notifications. Mostly calls, mostly from the same sender.

"Oh." This time it's you saying it.

"Yeah."

BONUS

"Can't we at least get rid of the cum stained sheets before we have a photo shoot?"

"Not a photo shoot, just one photo." Heeseung is standing on the bed, baby blue polaroid camera in hand as he finds the perfect angle. He cleaned you up, gave you a shirt of his, cleaned himself up, then napped with you until you woke up to a sunset, and more notifications. Then decided that he needed a pic of you like this to add to his wallet, next to the birthday one.

"Sure, hurry up. I'm cold."

"I can see it, your nipples are so hard right now. Pull the shirt up higher."

You roll your eyes, but you do. "Is this angle really necessary?"

He hums. "Gotta get the view from above like in the mirror."

And when the polaroid is ready, you peek your head over his shoulder to take a look, and this time you really cannot deny it. "That does look really good."

[hoonieangel]

now i don’t know how the flip you write so freakin well. i feel like i felt every single emotion that you were trying to convey throughout the whole damn story. this was so good, heeseung is an angel 🥹🤧

[wenosluv]

if one of my irl friends finds this account i’m gonna bury myself alive…

[iclimbjungwon]

[when i’m angry] — yang jungwon

description: your boyfriend’s a bit like the hulk, but with a twist — when he’s angry, his dick gets bigger. as any rational girlfriend would, you decide to rile him up, just so you can encounter that mean, fucking machine — although, to your fortune, he’s certainly not green. and you might actually like him when he’s angry. ═══════ warnings: cervix fucking (eventual womb penetration), brat tamer won, big daddy won, breeding, inhumane stretching, size kink, use of tools ie. a spreader bar & a speculum, shock collar, reader and won are fully immersed in ddlg dynamics, belt use, masturbation (m&f), alcohol consumption, mentions of violence, lotus position, unrealistic but ofc it is // jungwon’s dick is already huge but it grows! he’s hungwon.exe & WC: 19.3k

⿻ vi’s note: i’ve never had a breakdown while writing a fic until This one #teehee but i’ve also never been more excited (or more nervous rip) to post one either. i promised to post this in december and here i am posting it on the very last day (it still is for me at least) 👻 anyhow i hope u all enjoy dada and his supernatural cock and tysm for being patient w my slow writing ass <3 i planned for this to be 10k idk what happened

with jungwon’s creation, it was as though a higher force transferred it’s own divinity to him; by every facet of the word, he’s angelic, and even the molecules residing within his blood left celestial traces through every motion. every molecular portion of him which contributed to every cell within every pore of his body seemed to consider their surroundings a privilege. though from jungwon’s perspective, when faced with the purpose of his own creation, those ‘angelic’ cells only had his demise in mind.

any genetic lottery winner would be a damper to their own fortune – other eyes may see them as breathtaking, with details to dissect upon every glance, whereas their own gaze falls upon those same details with more a sense of clinical scrutiny. however, jungwon’s dispute with his own genetics – bad blood with his own blood, if you will – didn’t come from a repulsion with his appearance, as in that particular subject he’s more than assured. rather, a biological anomaly. in this case, the anomaly lay in his body’s reaction to certain stimuli; the stimuli which roused the presence of his anger.

once he’s angry, all those lovely genes which aided his ever-charming looks direct all that adrenaline to his dick. not his heart, not his muscles, his dick. to others, this may register as the most fortunate stroke of cell mutation ever recorded, making jungwon the richest genetic lottery winner to ever exist – though only jungwon has ever experienced it, and knows that these ‘riches’ have only delivered shame as far as luxuries. 

the first sighting of such shame dates back to his tender age of ten, as the dawn of puberty invited the dawn of his special talent – if diseases were considered talents. an argument with his sister soon devolved into her concerned outburst of ‘what’s happening to you?! jungwon, your pants!’ with the circumstances of his leftover food’s mysterious disappearance muddled in the fray. a literal, and figurative fray, as the sudden expansion beneath his boxers made itself known with the fabric as a casualty.

with his father soon involved, and a voyage to the emergency room in tow, jungwon was certain his life would deviate extensively from the path of any man before him. the nature of his life’s tasks were soon sharpened into form – master emotional management, invest in fully-elastic boxers, and avoid sincere attachments to women. 

though with all things considered, he did. until you became his life’s second anomaly. 

prior to you, jungwon never found himself entangled with another woman aside from physicality’s sake. as he saw it, without the time to allow for an emotional brewing – which was only bound to flow over the brim – there would be no space for harm. no harm, no foul. sounds easy, reads easy. though with the pressure of your beautiful face, the escape hatch within his self-imposed barriers only became more intriguing. he was only a man, after all – how could he ever be expected to resist you? the ease of your charm, the warmth of your smile which felt like a direct caress to every nerve within his stomach; it all surpassed attraction, evolving into a physical lure to your soul. a lure that captured him with such fervor, he was convinced your soul was designed as the northern pole of his own, sharing the same magnetic field.

he wouldn’t have ever known, had he never entered that tiny, vacant convenience store at the same time as you one night. a fateful night, laying the cornerstone for the rest of his life; the only effort it required was a ‘quite the sweet tooth you have,’ from him, and that signature, breathtaking – though he never had the breath to spare in your presence, anyway – smile from you as your eyes descended to your basket, which was abundant in nothing other than sweets. then his phone soon grew abundant with the digits of your number, your presence in a shared home soon to follow. 

the sensation you flooded him in easily surpassed physical attraction – though you certainly sent him to his knees in that subject – and morphed into what could only be described as obsession. an obsession with more than just the outer shell of you – a need to own your mind, learn your body, and rewire your soul, which could never be satisfied by a fleeting physical encounter. 

now, with three years of dedication to mastering the subject of you, he’s learned to balance his own emotion and your safety. if it meant seeing you smile, even lifting a car with his bare hands seemed simple enough – though that action would only earn him further comparison to a certain green mutant. as it stands, you’ve never roused his temper enough to fully awaken his ‘gift,’ even with your knowledge of it. an anger intense enough to harm you has never been directed towards you. that, and he’s been all-too-explicit with his refusal to ever weaponize his dick against you. 

regardless, he knows you wouldn’t ever brew such an intense rage within him, nor would you even ponder such a greedy desire – never his sweet, sweet girl. disregard to his feelings, flippancy in the face of his rules – it’s all very uncharacteristic of you. 

“we’re leaving in ten minutes, babydoll. your dress is on the bed.” 

his voice was gentle with the reminder, as was his demeanor; his frame appeared within that of the bathroom door, fastening the buttons of his black dress shirt as he watched you. only tender sentiments hazed his eyes, responsibility lying in the fact that his brain had nothing else to offer as a reaction to you. especially now, with only his shirt cradling your body as you treated your hair with final adjustments. 

you turn to face him, since acknowledgement through the bathroom’s mirror would never suffice when it came to your daddy. “i’m almost done, daddy. i promise. just want my hair to look pretty,” your face stretched with a smile.

such a silly phrase, he almost wonders if you’ve misspoken. as though any part of you ever required a debate for beautiful, or not beautiful – let alone speak of ‘pretty,’ as you’ve easily ruptured the confines of that word. a smile discovers his face, a subtle sway of his head and the huff of a fond chuckle to complement it. “you’re always beautiful, babydoll. that’s just a given. you don’t ever need to worry yourself with that.”

your smile only expands with enough space to earn him the pleasure of seeing your teeth. your reaction served as time and effort’s evidence, as the version of you three years prior would’ve obscured the sight with a meek pout. as he sees it, he’s fortunate to have earned such trust from you that your smile is no longer a secret. 

his frame replaces the position of your own as he enters the bathroom’s space, and you depart to see which dress he’s chosen for you. 

the bedroom’s carpet yields to your steps as you enter. the dress lay, relaxed upon the blankets – it’s body wore the same color as his own clothing for the night, though white polka dots offered distinction from the otherwise dark fabric. it’s ends stretched outward, a subtle frill embellishing the skirt which yearned to conceal your upper thigh, at the very least. 

you acknowledge the dress, you truly do. your fingers even visit the straps which jungwon certainly intended to bind around your neck once he emerged from the bathroom. though even through your attempts to suppress it, your curiosity in the face of jungwon’s anger has tipped the scales in it’s own favor, surpassing even your instincts to obey jungwon’s every command. an understandable craving, as you see it — or as your attempts at justification tell you. thoughts of ‘i’m just a woman, can you blame me?’ and ‘its natural to be curious, right?’ only offer hollow consolation.

though beneath every platitude remains the truth – you’re disregarding jungwon’s boundaries, in search of your own gratification. however, an acknowledgement of your sentiments does not seem to discourage you; and just as you’ve ignored your conscience, you plan to ignore the dress your daddy has set out for you. two separate transgressions, with a common goal – light the fire beneath jungwon’s anger until it boils. though in his specific case, that anger will bloom. even then, you want to keep nourishing it. 

the dress remains in the same position jungwon placed it in.

you face the closet’s direction instead; you briefly visit — and dismiss — only a fraction of the dresses jungwon has purchased for you over the course of your relationship until you discover your target. a search made easy by the fact that he’s organized all of your clothing by color. you lift the dress from it’s stupor to bask in how seamlessly it fits the role in the performance you’ve orchestrated for tonight – it’s majority is satin, if any bit of it could be described as majority, it’s upper design scant enough to mimic one of your bras, and the portion meant to adorn your waist sported only sheen fabric and laced flowers in the subject of concealing your skin; a subject it didn’t excel at, to say the least.

upon purchasing this dress for you, jungwon was sure to relay the parameters, meeting your lips with a whisper of ‘this will only ever be for my eyes, you know?’ as he allowed himself to be submerged, whelmed by the sight of you in it. though even with his devotion to keeping certain traces of you under a veil which only he could lift, you couldn’t find enough reluctance to form deterrence. the dress was too ideal for the situation – you clung to the fact that every sacrifice made in pursuit of the treasure wouldn’t matter so much once you received the treasure itself. the ‘treasure’ being your daddy’s freak of a cock, of course. 

therefore, you battled no hesitance in putting it on. 

the dress conformed to you as it traveled along your body, conforming to your devious intentions, all the same – it almost validated you, with every step you took out of the closet. the only validation you’d ever receive.

a reality which only set in further as jungwon laid eyes on you, a man who would never extend a single breath of validation to your little scheme, beyond any trace of doubt. he presented himself in the doorway, his eyes moving between you and the bed providing the only bit of movement to his otherwise still body. the neglected dress seemed to present itself as an object of abandonment – your abandonment to the subject of obedience, a subject which you’d always received full marks in.

“what are you wearing?”

the words accompanied the air, the absence of warmth within them seeming to send the room’s temperature into descent. though that could also be attributed to your near absence of attire. as they lay crossed upon his chest, his arms seem to conduct themselves as a barrier to the anger you’ve begun to rouse. though in his case, that barrier will need to establish itself a bit further south. 

your hand surrounds the hanger of the deserted dress, lifting it from the bed. “what, daddy?” though as you respond, a clasp of his own surrounds your hips – his fingers constrict by the result of displeasure, possession, and a fragment of anger. though it seems he’d spared the carpet of their intensity, because the sound of footsteps hadn’t even reached you.

“i-i’ve never gotten to wear this dress out,” the tone of your justification is as weary as the merit of it. even a shift in proximity swayed your convictions – you certainly were not practiced in being devious, to say the least. 

“yeah, there’s a reason for that,” one hand departs your hip, punctuating it’s return with one, two firm taps against the flesh. “turn around.” 

with the urge of his hands, your body shifts until his frame decorates the space in front of you. such a typical course of action for him — laying out instructions for you, though completing it himself anyway. 

“this isn’t what i picked out for you. i told you when i bought this, that no one else would ever see you in it other than me.”

if only ‘territorial’ could describe the series of jolts currently pulsing though his every neuron, within each fiber of him, making their travels with demands of ‘consume her, conceal her,’ in tow. maybe if the feeling could be named, processing it would come easier. but he couldn’t discover even a syllable of description for this feeling.

though even in the presence of his nameless ‘anger,’ your beauty stood ever-apparent. precious by mere existence – and jungwon felt the inclination, the inner demand to protect it, as with anything precious. though as he saw it, you weren’t just ‘anything,’ and he was propelled by something far more significant than natural instinct. he loved and owned you. so a scene as beautiful as you in this dress must remain in his lone gaze. 

“why didn’t you put this one on?” he revokes the warmth of his hand from your hip, tracing the dress between the two of you. it now functioned as your only protection from the nudge of his cock against your tummy — such a unique indication of anger.

“i… i just wanted to be comfortable. that dress makes me feel kinda… silly,” a blatant lie which even your lips grew skeptical of as they formed it.

though your strategy rings effective, proven in the way the subtle crease between his eyebrows began to relax. as did the indication that his anger was beginning to bloom, even without the self-taught anger-management strategies he typically clung to. the mention of your comfort expelled those feelings before his mind could even begin to request them. as he’s always seen it, his own satisfaction will never be prioritized over your comfort – his urge to accommodate you is the most effective calming technique he could ever receive.

if only he knew of the insincerity planted in the words you spoke.

“and what if my friends get ideas about you in this dress? hm? i don’t want them even looking at you,” his thumb cascades in the silk upon your hip, the reluctance beneath his eyes preparing for resignation.

you return the dress to it’s original position atop the bed, forsaking it for the final time. instead, you invite his hand into the company of your own. “it’s okay, daddy. i’ll be next to you all night.”

the shred of reluctance within his eyes withers – it didn’t present much resistance to the pressure your smaller hands shrouded a single hand of his within. as far as the hope within your eyes, he forfeited before it could even be considered a contest. 

his breath enters the space between you with the heft of a sigh. “alright, fine. but if anyone even looks at you wrong, they’ll regret it.” 

you always worried about his karma when he said things like that, though you never doubted his protection.

as it appears to him, the stretch of a smile across your face seems to be the only benefit in what he’s just permitted — along with your arms around his torso, which cradled him without hesitance upon his agreement. he’s just forfeited his sanity, but at least his sweet girl is hugging him. right? 

“thank you daddy!”

his arms return your fervor, surrounding you by reflex as his hand discovers the back of your head, urging you further into the refuge of his chest. “of course, baby. now let’s head out before we’re late. and before i change my mind.”

his hand descends to the lower curve of your back, setting the both of you on a brief trek to the car; his hand persists upon the primarily bare portion of your skin there, as though in training for the night of establishing his ownership which loitered ahead.

that he knew for certain. 

upon arrival, the night’s genre began painting itself like an omen; the perpetrators for his impending spike in blood pressure – or in his case, a change in his blood’s location – sat at a clothed table at the restaurant’s center. yes, he’s convicting them before they even have the chance to speak. he knows them after all. one side of the table owned the presence of heeseung and jake, the other wielding sunghoon’s – their attire mimicked his own, just as it did on a typical working day at jungwon’s company, the only difference lying in the variation of color. though as jungwon saw it, their seating arrangements and formal attire were trivial matters nested within a larger issue – even the twinkle of the silverware beneath the restaurant’s dim lighting wasn’t enough to sway their attention from the sight of you. 

his hand’s tender presence upon your back deviates for a moment as his fingers slip beneath the hem of your dress’ cutout. “stay close, baby,” the caress of his breath against your ear seems to be the most gentle delivery of a warning he could offer. 

such a hypocrite, he is – worried about you looking too enticing, though only making matters worse with the nature of his wandering hand. 

the seat beside sunghoon soon becomes yours, jungwon’s guidance inescapable once he’s decided a place for you. a reality which applied to several elements of your life together, not just his decision for your seating. the greetings drift and eventually disperse within the air around you as jungwon ushers your chair closer to the table, and discovers his own seat beside you. 

his hand latches to the seat of your chair as he tugs it into a more intimate position with his own. even his thigh is possessive, considering how close it was to yours. the champagne’s pour soon replaces the fond greetings within the air as he floods your glass, then duplicates the action with his own. delight makes it’s appearance on your face with a smile, and his features soon transform into an affectionate echo of your expression. how sweet are you, excited over a little champagne. the ease in achieving your excitement always sent affection to his eyes – his baby loves a little alcohol, that’s for certain. he just thinks the sight of your happiness is the most reliable proof that the world makes beautiful things.

though the sight of heeseung’s appreciative scan over your body reminded him that the world has vile creations, too. 

“keep your fucking eyes to yourself, heeseung,” the adoration flees from jungwon’s features to allow space for the incoming irritation. an emotion which he made no secret of, as long as the steel he pierced heeseung’s eyes with provided enough representation. 

the huff of heeseung’s chuckle rings as a signal to his surrender, as does the salute he extends to jungwon with his champagne glass. your troubles with concealing your smile are soon buried, as sunghoon presents himself as the next contender in the game of ‘let’s piss of jungwon.’ a strong contender indeed.

his gaze is more commanding, as he’s right beside you. “damn, jungwon. i feel like i’m seeing things i shouldn’t be allowed to see.”

his eyes retain the freedom to immerse themselves in details of your body which jungwon always hoped would be too obscured to even be considered hidden. as though you were a niche fixation which he was the sole consumer of. 

your teeth plunging into the flesh of your lip does not fulfill it’s purpose – it never could, not with your daddy around. jungwon’s ability to detect the nature of your habits, the reasoning behind them, surpasses even your own. he notices your attempt to suppress your smile, though he doesn’t yet address it. 

“what exactly are you seeing that you shouldn’t be allowed to see, sunghoon?” his chest swells as he brings one of his most reliable anger-management techniques into practice – breathe in, hold for four seconds, breathe out. your glass of champagne is suddenly intriguing as you guide it to your lips.

“oh, nothing. just the fact that your girl is sitting here looking ready to eat. and i’m hungry,” the pad of his thumb skims his jaw, his elbows finding comfort on the table. such casual demeanor for a man who just created war in jungwon’s body — a war between what’s rational, and what’s tempting. right now, he’s tempted to brutalize sunghoon so badly that he can never form another word. even more so, because sunghoon’s eyes didn’t meet his as he spoke — they remained fastened to you. 

your smile in the matter only has jungwon implementing the breathing technique for the second time. 

“thank you, hoon.” 

your nerve to formulate such a response absolutely nullifies it. his hand compresses your jaw, directing your gaze back to his own with an undercurrent of ‘you know where your eyes should be.’ 

sunghoon’s smile is only fueled by gratification. it was patently clear that he derived several forms of enjoyment from the situation; though needless to say, that was a less-than-accurate reality for jungwon.

“watch yourself, sunghoon. i’m not kidding,” his eyes refuse to depart from sunghoon’s, and he remains unaware of the way your eyes descend lower — the way you glance at his pants as though checking your progress. 

sunghoon lifts his hand in an attempt at placation. “relax, jungwon. i’m just appreciating your girl’s… style. you know i’d never actually try anything,” though his words made it clear that his remarks gathered no inspiration from your ‘style.’ his gaze descends, allowing himself to absorb the sight of your thighs – they bore no form of protection from his eyes, as far as your dress was concerned. “unless she’s offering, of course.” 

if the words were insufficient in electrifying jungwon’s blood, the wink provided more than enough of a shock. 

the chime of your giggle, however, nearly shatters the function of his prefrontal cortex entirely. “she’s not offering anything to anyone but me, bastard,” the pressure of his hand surrounds your thigh, oppressive enough to tug you closer if the two of you weren’t already a tier away from merging. his breath nestles your ear, as he delivers words only meant for you. “and if she knows what’s good for her, she’ll stop fucking smiling like that.” 

your autonomy commands you before your impulses even receive a voice in the matter. the smile vanishes from your lips as though it feared the repercussions more than you did. though in this moment, you absolutely did not know what was good for you. 

sunghoon’s recklessness mirrored your own, it seemed — the only acknowledgment he offered to jungwon’s response was a laugh punctuated by the sway of his head. more dismissal than acknowledgment, such nerve.

“why don’t we get some more food for the table?”

the only words aside from greetings contributed by jake thus far into the night. jungwon has nothing but gratitude to offer back, as he’s just rended the dome of tension beginning to enclose the table. that, and he’s given his brain a topic of focus aside from signaling the release of adrenaline into his blood stream – which would only encourage his junior to grow. 

the muscles in his hand devolve from taut to gentle, though it remains upon your thigh. he engages himself with studying the menu, perusing each offered item with your preferences in mind above his own. such devotion from him – and there you sit beside him, a mind teeming with plans for his torment. the waiter revisits the table, moving his pen in time with the requests of steak and salmon his presence earns. only your voice remains a mystery to him, since your daddy orders on your behalf. only nature, for the two of you. 

“actually, could we have another bottle of champagne?” sunghoon concludes the exchange in response to the waiter’s courtesy of ‘can i get you anything else?’ a pleasantry which typically remained rhetorical in the sense that it doesn’t truly communicate anything aside from politeness. though leave it to sunghoon to interpret it as an invitation to request something which would only pile onto jungwon’s stress.

the waiter makes his departure, though not without an appreciative smile at the sight of you. gosh, even the waiter was going to piss him off. as though reveling in his handiwork, sunghoon reclines further against his chair. jungwon almost hoped it would topple over. 

at a rate which raised the question of impressive customer service versus haphazard preparation, the waiter returns with a fresh bottle of champagne and the requested meals in tow. as each plate encounters it’s owner, you enjoy the final traces of champagne in your glass – each bubble travels your throat with a trail of mischief as company. as though mischief was something you lacked. 

“daddy, can i have some more champagne?” 

no, no you absolutely cannot, only narrowly remains within the confines of his lips. though with movements equally as stiff as the chair he sat upon, he tilts the bottle to replenish your glass. anything to see your smile, right?

“there you go, princess.” 

a moment never occurred in which you heard the word ‘princess’ sound so dull – nevermind coming from your daddy. though the both of you seemed to be involved in new experiences tonight, because he’s never seen such defiance in the face of his boundaries from you.

the champagne remains dormant, obtaining more time to settle as your hand soothes the course of his arm instead. “is daddy okay?”

your touch, typically a wand of healing which seemed to transport him to a place of repose, now only merited responsibility for the tension beneath his skin. every aspect of this night was so far from the mark of ‘typical.’ his muscles were taut beneath that velvet touch, as though responding to an intrusion. “daddy’s fucking great, baby. drink your champagne.” 

still dull.

your hand retreats from his arm to invite your glass to your lips instead. though your eyes refuse to follow a similar path – you study him, ingesting every trace of the stress that you planted within his expression. an echo of ‘this might be too cruel,’ visits you, guilt in tandem – though a shout of ‘this is playing out so, so perfectly,’ evicts any remnants of it.

the plate of food before you remains undisturbed, though the way sunghoon ate you up with his gaze was enough to sate the entire table. each pass of champagne over your lips has jungwon wishing he could shatter the glass with his mind alone. 

“food, baby.” 

your giggle sends a jolt through his pores, his blood. “not hungry, daddy.”

his eyes vanish beneath his lids for one, two moments before reappearing. “i said eat something. before i shove it into your mouth myself.”

sunghoon’s amusement stills the rise of a protest within your throat. “i don’t know, man. she seems more thirsty, to me,” the bottle’s condensation relents to his hand as he lifts it, gesturing it toward your direction. 

“she’s drinking enough already,” jungwon fractures the implication of his words, hoping to demolish the action’s course completely. the bottle receives the comfort of his own hand as he yanks it from sunghoon’s – the action deriving motivation from the abundance of frustration he’s already gathered. “i know my baby girl. the last thing she needs is more fucking alcohol.”

he’s unable to staunch the flow of his territorial nature, traces of it bleeding into his words – he’s definitely seething now. still, the realization doesn’t brew deterrence within you. only drive. the bottle of champagne now resides within your palm, though only as a form of transportation back to sunghoon’s. 

breathe in, hold for four seconds, breathe out. even a double execution of the strategy cannot prevent the layer of blood beneath his neck, altering his skin’s color in faint degree. however, he’s just grateful his dick hasn’t caught wind yet. sunghoon’s face stretches to accommodate his smile – and the smug satisfaction within it. when another fucking wink accompanies it, jungwon scarcely manages to suppress the impulse to make it permanent. sunghoon has no clue of his luck.

as sunghoon tilts the bottle toward your glass, you only busy your head with a shake in disapproval. not for the reason jungwon hoped, however – because your next action is a signal towards your open mouth by the tap of your finger. 

the invitation is far too enticing to earn rejection from any man, especially the likes of sunghoon. so naturally – if human nature sufficed in justifying this shameful act – his fingers sail to the back of your head, providing you comfort as you tilt it back. the bottle’s ridge skims your lips as the alcohol surges into your mouth with a tilt of his own. such a view inspires his thoughts of another ridge he could skim your lips with – and of what else he might flood your mouth with. 

silence intrudes the table.

though jake doesn’t voice his thoughts, he doesn’t need to – his reaction of ‘what the fuck?’ is painted along every feature upon his face. 

in this moment, it’s as though jungwon’s amygdala demands every other functioning component of his brain into silence. his eyes chase each rush of the fluid as it drifts from the bottle and into your throat – the final remnants of his rational thought seem to accompany it. 

“that’s enough.”

your eyes don’t have enough time to land on him before he’s seized the bottle, ending it’s joyride – and yours – with a snatch. “i said that’s enough champagne for you.”

his tone commands your body’s obedience, before your brain has the opportunity to ingest the words joining it. the focus which the both of your eyes devote to each other seems to blur the relevance of even your closest surroundings. that is, until your lips intrude upon their privacy with the subtle curve of a smirk. 

your teeth’s punishment to your bottom lip do nothing to rescue you from the situation. jungwon’s hand seizes your arm with more pressure than even the champagne bottle was met with, and the restaurant’s environment becomes only a whir as he tugs you in his company. toward your execution, if you had to guess. 

your legs are only granted a reprieve from his pace as the bathroom door greets its frame with a click – a sound which never carried the significance of death knells, until tonight.

“what the fuck was that out there?”

his hands land on your hips, shoving you to the counter’s edge. those hands typically guaranteed you safety; right now, they’re only a showcase of his strength’s advantage. your eyes deviate from his for a moment — from the heat within them — before returning with reluctance. “w-what?” 

the poor attempt at confusion in your tone only removes another layer between his control, and his impulse – his hand sails from your hip, only to capture your jaw instead. “don’t play stupid with me,” the sudden jolt of his arm forces your head to replicate the movement. “why the fuck were you letting sunghoon pour champagne into your mouth?” his voice demands it’s escape once more, this time with a lift in volume. "why the fuck did you even want him to touch you?”

but a sudden physical greeting from the visitor you’d aimed to meet this evening receives the best of your attention. your mind was void of any acceptable answer to his question, regardless. 

“daddy, you’re mad.”

observant as ever, you are. every thread in his slacks was plagued by an urgent yearning to maintain their bond, even in the face of the oncoming threat – his dick, of course. that daunting heft of his asserted itself against the chain of his zipper, the dig of the metal’s every ridge only pissing him off more. which only makes his dick press further into his zipper. 

“daddy let’s… let’s do the breathing exercises–”

a laugh would escape him, if he weren’t so pissed. every breath in his lungs was reserved for the words he’d use to admonish you. “fuck the breathing exercises,” a certain gravel visits his tone, despite it’s unfamiliarity. “i’ll vent my anger a better way.” 

even the movements he executes to remove his belt appear to him as inconveniences delaying the use of it. his pulses argued with his limbs, urging them to fold the belt faster, spin you around faster, force you against the counter faster. each action concludes with urgency, demands of fasterfasterfaster seeping into the fibers of his tendons until the chill of the marble grants a shock to your skin, victorious in it’s self-imposed race against the huff you offered as testament to your surprise. 

“which rules did you break?” 

the question’s insistence visits you before the shock even lingers enough to settle. his fingers nest beneath the hem of your dress as he slides it upward to bare the skin of your ass. “i…i can’t–” 

a sting which could only ever be attributed to leather meets your skin — the intensity of it, however, could only be attributed to the symptoms of narrowly subdued rage. 

“try again,” the even delivery of his words only reminds you of the mayhem lying a sole layer beneath it. “which rules?”

now, the words come with ease. all you needed was a little motivation. “let… let another man touch me.”

the belt greets your flesh once more, as though in agreeance with the accusation you placed upon yourself. agreeance which only delivered a higher level of pain. “and? keep going.”

the bathroom’s walls return the sound of the leather meeting your skin as he extends another swat in attempt to spur your memory, it seems. “d-drank… when you told me to stop.”

a whine sails from the confines of your throat, the only form of retaliation you can offer as he rewards your skin with another strike. 

“and what else?” 

your first tear falls to adorn the marble beneath you, a cornerstone for an entire village of them soon to come. “i… i talked back.” 

the mottle of welts upon your skin are raised in such a polite welcoming gesture to the next one, which joins them with another whisk of leather. your skin has been in this predicament enough times to learn to expect company. “fucking right you did,” his voice nearly mimics the belt’s hiss. “and?”

“didn’t… didn’t eat when you told me to.”

his arm completes a rise and fall in rapid succession, the effort he expends with the action appearing in the immediate mark it leaves on your skin. “yeah, you didn’t,” his hand rests upon your back, a gesture which usually held implications of comfort, though now only appears as a threat for even the thought of movement. “but you’re forgetting one thing.”

your mind works to revisit the events which had only just unfolded – every giggle, every smile, every egg you threw at sunghoon. every action was intentional, and you found no struggle in  remembering them – much less in admitting to them – because you orchestrated their execution. hadn’t you already confessed to it all?

the counter’s marble loses the warmth of your skin as you strain your neck to face him. “w-what? no i’m–”

the belt speaks against the air, interrupting you with its whisper – though this time, it strikes your mouth. a swat on the ass would’ve done well in silencing you; though as it meets your lips, even your eyes seem to shy away from him like they’re afraid to be next. “don’t look at me.”

you wouldn’t, even if you wanted to. look at that, you obeyed his command before it even left his lips. 

"there’s one more rule you broke.”

the marble’s surface now accommodates your rush of tears, only to be expected once it received the likes of one. with one comes many, as even counters seem to know. your hand itches with the pulse to console your mouth’s pain, but his own neglects it’s position on your back to trap it instead. now he’s just being cruel. 

“think,” his belt raises, even the leather seeming to jump with enthusiasm at the possibility of another strike. your tears accomplish nothing in the field of stoking his anger. the hand unoccupied by the belt revokes the enclosement it posed to your own, and encloses a handful of your hair instead. he tugs your head back to force eye contact with you from the mirror. now, he wants you to look at him. 

the cold of the countertop is no match for the cold behind his gaze. never has your daddy settled with meeting your gaze through something as detached, vacant as a mirror. but you treated him with those sentiments, all night. “daddy… i-i’m really not sure,” your voice is weary with the weight of a confession, though you only offered honesty to him.

the grip he seized your hair with slackens, before allowing your head to fall forward entirely. “then let me remind you,” the hand surrounding his belt tightens, “you lied to me.”

your features react with a subtle furrow in confusion. though you retract it just as quickly, for the fear of being punished further if he detects it as defiance. “when… when did i–”

the belt whips your thighs, only just avoiding your pussy, extending the courtesy of bruises to the skin there, too. “don’t you remember? you pretended to be concerned about me,” his tone alone could be attributed to the constriction in your throat, though the rise of your tears also had a voice in the matter. “that was a lie. you were enjoying it. and you didn’t give a single fuck–” the belt’s sound against your skin interrupts even him now, landing in junction with the word. “–about how mad i was getting.” 

the particular fervor within the swat coerces your eyes into squeezing shut. at least they could protect themselves. 

now, there seems to be no evidence of an end or even beginning. the lines of phases, and limits, and thresholds fade into irrelevancy as it all bleeds into pain. when he started mattered just as much as when he stopped – which wasn’t at all – because all your mind could produce was echoes of just how much it hurt. your skin felt it with every strike, your flesh absorbing the remnants beneath it; your tears felt it in the simmer of your skin, though they were fortunate enough to escape. his attacks rained one, after the other, and his belt reigned full control of your body as it dictated whether the next cree rang for relief, or for distress. 

the punishment no longer extended to your body alone – he’s ensuring your mind and soul will linger with it’s effects too, the strikes reaching them with his anger’s depth, every layer. 

“you think i’m a joke? is my anger funny to you?”

by miracle, your response reaches him. “no…”

any chance for another thought, another word – though you certainly had none – is chased away by the fury of the belt’s leather. “no what?” an immediate strike to punctuate his question, as though the tone didn’t suffice. “say it right.”

your only motivation to speak is derived from your ache to see the end of this complete lashing. “no daddy. it’s not.”

the sound of his exertion becomes the only sign of hope that your punishment is reaching it’s end; the huffs of his breath provide the only proper sound for breathing, as the strain of cries emerging from your throat could hardly be considered as such. 

you couldn’t see it, though a clink of metal as it dangles serves as a clear indicator that he’s retired the belt to his side. “then what the fuck was that about?”

the truth remains dormant atop your tongue. of course, you could admit to the motivation behind every dishonor you’d forced him to sustain from the moment your fingers traced the silk of your dress – and you should. if the disappointment – and the pain, needless to say — behind every strike he’d just laid into you with presented any omen to the fact that you’ve gone too far, you would stop. though it couldn’t be helped that it doubled as symbol of how far you’ve come, how much you’ve accomplished in your operation to undo him completely. you’re only thinking optimistically, right?

your lungs collect a breath in preparation for your lie. you really didn’t know what was good for you. “i like… i like seeing you get protective over me.”

not entirely a lie.

his eyes shrink to slits for only a moment, before relaxing. they don a newfound haze – no longer rage, no longer displeasure, but a tinge satisfaction. “is that right?” his voice is much kinder to the air, though still gruff. “you like seeing me get protective?”

your nod disgraces every moral instinct within you – as does the way your features conform into remorse. the remorse wasn’t exactly dishonest, only misplaced. “i’m sorry, daddy…”

his scan for deception processes in his mind with a result of none. so uncharacteristic of him, as any inconsistency in your demeanor typically registers to him without the need to expend any effort in it. though you’ve also never been so deft in lying to him. you’ve never disgraced him with more severity than indulging in more sweets than he allowed you. this field was fresh for you both.

the chime of his sigh joins the groan of his belt as he slides it back into the loops. “damn it, baby. don’t lie to me next time. i don’t want my baby girl to perform for me. i want her to be honest with me.”

with a grasp on your arm, tender in its intentions, he tugs your body from the counter. his eyes chain themselves to yours, discovering every trace of guilt within those beautiful eyes as you gaze up at him. with hands wandering from your waist to your back, he slides your dress back down, sending it to conceal the marks he gave you with a touch even more delicate than the silk. if your guilt doesn’t soften him, the remnants of your tears complete the task with even more sufficiency. 

“come here.”

his arms surround you, pulling you toward the consolation his chest had always provided you. both his hand, and the pressure of his chin lay in your hair’s comfort, his other hand tending to your back with a gentle rub. even the lingering bits of irritation have withered, by now. the punishment he administered allowed him to release its majority, though your presence truly restores order to his senses. 

“i really am sorry, daddy…”

his fingers tighten against your hair, flooding you with more reassurance than even the most accurate words ever could. his other hand skims along your back until landing upon your ass, rubbing the flesh he punished moments ago. “shh, i know baby,” the breath of his words reach you in a murmur. “i just hate to see you acting like that. you’re my sweet baby girl.”

you would shatter like glass, if you were transparent enough. the words, the reminder bludgeons you in the most vulnerable place you’ve built during your relationship with him – your need to make your daddy proud. from the moment he rewarded you with the words during your move-in together, you’ve never wished to appear to him in any form other than his sweet, precious, obedient baby girl. his sweet baby girl, who always made him proud – though here she was, forsaking every trace of the merited title, betraying every bit of promise and respect in the face of her daddy’s boundaries to entertain a purpose as selfish as curiosity. and carrying a secret in the form of guilt, which you’ve convinced him to believe false sentiments of. you’ve disowned the realm of sweet – you were a disappointment if they’ve ever existed. 

the sob escapes you with the ease of a breath. 

“hey, hey… baby,” your tears’ sudden intensity fills him with a sense of alarm, worry. worry for the sweet girl who was always honest with her daddy, and plagued by regret in the disobedience she just burdened him with. a worry which wasn’t for you. his thumb feathers along your backside, extending an apology with each movement over the concealed welts he composed. an apology for the girl who maintains her lie, even now. “daddy’s got you, okay? daddy’s not mad anymore.”

though he absolutely should be.

his shirt absorbs your tears as they well in your eyes, rushing out to make room for the newcomers. each tear emerges with a motive, though dies only in vain – you still latched to the hope that the outcome would assign a purpose to every bit of your regret, every tear. 

as jungwon retreats, his eyes fall to the trace of blood swelling upon your lip – he’d allowed the punishment to carry him here. “shit,” the whisper leaves him in muted panic, his thumb gentling the wound with a single touch. “baby, let me clean you up.”

he retrieves a paper towel, hovering it beneath the faucet’s stream before returning to you, probing at the wound with that trademark softness he always presents to you. his lips meet the spot once he’s erased all remnants of blood. “there’s my baby girl,” his kiss trails to the top of your head. “all better now.”

as he gathers the vaseline from his pocket, his eyes drift over you – he studies your face, your expression, your demeanor for the sake of ensuring your safety and comfort. he would never neglect you by that measure. “now,” his fingers apply the ointment, gentle as his voice. his eyes debate between your eyes and the wound upon your lip, though lean primarily into the more captivating of the two. “when we go back out there, what are you gonna do?” 

your eyes remain in the repose of his own. “’m gonna… eat something and behave,” spoken with such obedience, though formed by a mind which leaned more into the idea of defiance.

his approval travels to you with a nod, the warmth of his hand cascading your waist, then cradling your backside in a squeeze which solidifies the sentiment. “good girl. that’s what daddy likes to hear.”

with his hand shrouding your own, he guides you to the table once more. though this time, he’s sure to take his seat between you and sunghoon. he assists you in settling within your seat, before reclaiming his own – his hand plants itself upon your thigh in a squeeze, urging you with the reminder to behave. just as you’d promised.

as sunghoon faces you – with no regard for jungwon’s position – he attempts to engage you in conversation with a less-than-innocent inquiry of “you alright there, princess?”

jungwon’s fingers only burrow deeper into your thigh’s flesh as he cages sunghoon in his gaze. “she’s eating. and she’s not your princess. she’s mine.”

before a wise remark from sunghoon receives enough time to brew, heeseung addresses jungwon with the tease of a smile – his eyes bore a certain suspicion as company. “where did you two disappear to?” 

sunghoon’s features accommodate a wider grin, while jake only huffs a chuckle into his champagne glass. though jungwon’s answer remains equally as casual as the actions preceding it, despite the perception threaded within them. “just a bathroom break.”

nothing had occurred which could be described by the word ‘just.’ and the table’s awareness of that fact persists, as their hesitance to believe his answer reveals itself in various forms of muted laughter.

almost in an attempt to regain his affection, you gesture your knife and fork toward him – a prompt for him to cut your steak, an action he would’ve completed by impulse, even without your offer. regardless of the situation, he never revokes his devotion to you. 

the veins within his forearms dance as he reduces your steak to bite-sized pieces. “here you go, baby,” his eyes receive the traces of that fond smile on his face. typically, he’d face no hesitance in feeding you, though even he bears limitations to the extent of the dynamics he reveals. “eat up.”

abandoning the harmony of your regret, you do anything but. your eyes sift the table in search of the champagne, tuning instead into the frequency of your initial plan for the night. 

“you’re not slick, baby.”

of course he’s discovered you. your eyes return to your plate as though the table somehow frightened you – his voice ignites a reaction with more haste than even your instincts. his breath cradles your ear, urging even your skin’s undivided attention as he whispers against it. “keep your eyes on your plate. i’m not warning you anymore.”

you lift your fork as though it were your only form of rescue. he enjoys his own meal, though derives bounds more of enjoyment from the sight of your obedience as you begin to eat. his lips discover your ear again, though only just avoid bonding completely. “good girl. eating so nicely.”

though the words don’t sheath you in the same encouragement they typically do. instead, irritation seeps into every pore on your skin. your face doesn’t seem to perform well in concealing it, as your expression lures the focus of sunghoon’s eyes – you’d have lured it even without any shift in your features, truthfully. the mischief in his demeanor is still apparent, though softened by concern. “hey, what’s wrong? you’re barely smiling anymore.”

heeseung and jake’s attention follow the path of sunghoon’s among his observation. the amount of eyes on you, the sudden focus each of them met you with – each aspect of this moment seemed to unfold that possessive cloak jungwon always wore, urging him to veil you in it. 

“she’s fine,” the firm tone of his voice accomplishes more in placing a claim on you than anything tangible ever could – it does absolutely no injustice to that figurative cloak. 

though it only nurtures the growth of your annoyance, in place of tending to your sense of protection. “he wasn’t talking to you,” your eyes remain on the contents of your plate as the hushed retaliation leaves you. 

jungwon would never allow such a bold display to be diluted by your lack of eye contact; he’s drawn to its roots, and it’s defiance. as he sees it, the delivery is meaningless when the words are so indicative. “watch your tone,” he interrupts any further avoidance in the form of moving your steak along your plate as he captures your forearm, voice low.

the subtle presence of a smile stretching along your face is almost a method in obscuring the guilt for you – though for him, it’s a representation of your mischief’s return. your focus, your conviction realigns with the task you’ve centered every trace of your behavior around – riling your daddy up to learn just what a fifteen inch dick might feel like inside of you. it would be disgraceful to lose sight of your goal now, wouldn’t it? 

“i’m just saying,” your eyes lose interest in the sight of his grip upon your wrist, finding it again in his own. “i could’ve answered that question myself. it was meant for me, after all. not you.”

he’s never been more grateful for a table cloth than in this moment – his dick, that uncanny center of his anger is beginning to swell, meeting even his elastic boxers with a threat which they may not bear the facilities for. that stretch of white fabric may serve as his only shield in the battle against humiliation.

he leans close, the breath of his words scalding your ear with an intent that certainly couldn’t be categorized by gentle. “and i could choke you out right here and now, for that attitude,” his lips move languidly, deliberately with each syllable – though they saturate you with a certain heaviness in the fact that you know of the truth within them. the back of your neck relents to his fingers as he stills it with a clamp. an action which does well in reminding you just how large it is. “you’re pushing your luck, little girl.”

an endearment only meant to patronize you. your eyes expand under his method in calming you, gazing in his direction as he allows your neck the privilege of mercy. though as you do, you gain notice of where his hand travels next – the glass of champagne in front of him. another strategy he implements to placate his anger; holding onto something cold to shock his nervous system, ground him to physical sensation rather than the chaos of his thoughts. he only turns to it when the breathing technique has failed him. 

“i think you’re the one pushing yours.”

the chill from the glass wanes beneath his own palm. it’s an entirely fruitless method, now – any interruption to his anger only dwindles as it regains momentum, the sole contender against it now melting away as streams of condensation roll down the glass, his remnants of self-control in company. the attempt in regulation he’d clung to with such desperation is only snatched from him as he sends it to dissolve beneath his hand. it does nothing to cool even his body, much less his emotion. and much less now, amid your mockery.

the glass is almost relieved, for the fact that he hasn’t shattered it. though the pressure in his grip certainly brings realism to that possibility. “careful what you say next.” 

your eyes visit his own, before you nod in the direction of his hand. “careful or you’ll break that glass.”

his eyes receive his fury – the connection in your gazes becomes infected by it, as though electrocuted. though he does retract his grip from the glass, allowing his tendons a reprieve for only a moment before he applies the same pressure to your throat. “you want to see me break something? keep fucking talking.” 

anyone with situational awareness would yield under a seething hand around their throat, a graveled tone against their ear. you do possess it, though it only solidifies your determination. “break what? your seams?”

his mind devolves into a flurry of every recommended anger-management strategy he’s ever consulted in the duration of his life – echoes of ‘will this matter in a week?’ to the likes of ‘try naming five things around you,’ rush to his prefrontal cortex as though attempting to contain an infestation. though their travels are only sterile, as the best of it has already spread past the realms of any chance in self-restraint. 

a breathing exercise is out of the question.

the tug on your arm hardly precedes the haul of your body over his shoulder, as it all seems to meld into a single motion. the expressions on heeseung, sunghoon, and jake’s faces become undetectable to you as they fuse with the other surroundings you abandon at the steady, heedless pace which jungwon’s legs decide for the both of you. 

you’re only relieved of the silence as he opens the car door, a single arm bracing your figure. he sends you to the comfort of the passenger seat, though it only provides the sensation physically – no aspect of your current situation brings you a sense of anything even adjacent to comfort. the seatbelt reaches it’s destination with a click, becoming your oppressor. it rests over your chest as a symbol to your reality; trapped in the confines of a car, a gesture of distance between you and the man who wouldn’t allow himself to look at you, for the possibility, the fear that he’d hurt you.

even his baby girl’s face couldn’t aid in quelling his anger – as it is now, you’d only fuel it.

during the car ride, even your subtle shift as face him seems amplified. his emotion seems to occupy more of the space in the car than even the two of you – his knuckles protrude as he clings to the wheel, and he breathes in a deliberate pattern of inhale, hold for four seconds, exhale for six. the same technique he’d implemented when he caught some jerk trying to be discreet in taking photos of you during your vacation last summer. after giving him a less-than-discreet earful, of course. 

you clear your throat, though it feels like a transgression to the air. “da–”

“shut the fuck up.”

his voice sends even your pores into submission, still silencing you through it’s strain. the sound of the car’s wheels skimming along the driveway only further bind the knots within your stomach, as though they weren’t already tangled irredeemably. 

he exits the car without even a consideration toward your direction, opening your door with a snatch against the handle. the reality comes rushing, in path with the night’s air – you’re alone with him now. no interruptions from his friends to diffuse the tension, no public atmosphere to lighten the situation’s impact – only him, and you. a circumstance which never sowed fear within you, only security. though tonight was different, an anomaly of sorts; but you built these circumstances, and you must live them. even so, you were certain this wouldn’t be the only anomaly you encountered tonight.  

the press of his thumb against your seatbelt interrupts your thoughts. “get out,” his voice trembles as it’s layered by demand. “inside.” 

even as you expected it, the slam of the front door against the frame lures a jolt from your body. his words only reinforce the sentiments, arriving with fury despite his low tone. 

“what the fuck is wrong with you?”

you don’t allow your determination to waver – his words retreat from the air in humiliation as they fail to halt your steps, and you continue to the kitchen. his pace is steady in kind, as he only follows you. 

“what are you doing now?” he persists.

“none of your concern,” your reply is equally as brief as the sound of the cabinet opening.

“everything about you is my concern,” his words are joined by a slam as his hand meets the counter behind you. the sound resonates in your body with a flinch, the glass you’d collected from the cabinet nearly tumbling to the floor, nearly shattering as an omen to your conviction. you turn to face him, though not in search of his eyes; your gaze descends to his pants, his anger’s development. it’s well-developed to say the least, because it looks like he’s stuffed a forty ounce beer can in them. 

too late to change your mind. though you still didn’t want to. 

“and i’m talking to you,” no endearment, no princess, no baby girl. just the hollow center of his words. his fingers meet your chin with more restraint than you’d braced for, lifting the direction of your eyes. “so that means you should be looking at me.”

when you’ve pushed jungwon this far, the familiar brightness swirling within his eyes seems to dim with an overcast of grim intention – his stare almost becomes oppressive.

though needless to say, jungwon loves you – despite the surplus poured upon you, he insists on tickling your heart with verbal reminders among the various ways he indulges and pampers you with each effortless day. the days fade out in equally effortless measure for the both of you; in spite of the energy he expends, any action meant to nurture you, his sweet, sweet girl, is merely instinctual by now. though the intensity, the sincerity of his chivalry-abundant ocean may overwhelm you, he figures an ocean of love is the sweetest way for his baby to drown. 

in kindred ties with his boundless love, jungwon provides you discipline – the ache to straighten your path, your manner, fills him just as naturally as the ache to aid your hand in completing even the simplest of actions. through jungwon’s caregiving eyes, discipline and doting are certainly not mutually exclusive; in fact, neither can even exist without the presence of the other, not when love is involved. especially with jungwon’s case, with his peculiar gift, and with the extent he loves you – and right now, with the blatant disregard you’ve shown to his boundaries, he’s going to remind you just how much he loves you. 

“you can’t control me,” the words are joined by the clanging of your metal straw in the glass of chai you’ve prepared; from the dictation of your tipsy cravings, no less. as though you need to be energized any further.  

the concept of that thought even visiting your brain is hilarious to him – because yes, he can. and several doors behind the blockades of grumpiness you’ve built within your mind, you absolutely know he can, too. 

despite the absence of humor in his expression, a dry chuckle erupts from his chest. “we both know that’s far from the truth,” he traverses the small distance between you and seizes your wrist – he removes the tea from your grasp to place it upon the counter instead. you certainly don’t deserve something so sweet right now, not when your own sweetness is concealed. his eyes pierce your own with a presence far more debilitating than a mere warning – his gaze carries a plea, a final request for your behavior to soften before he must face the option to soften your petulance himself with punishment. 

your arm lingers in his clutch, his hold unyielding. “this is me trying to warn you right now. don’t make me break my own rule.”

that rule, you’re well aware — the manner his anger takes refuge down south, the obtrusive, distinctive way his cock blooms as though extending an invitation, even in light of jungwon’s attempt to present it as a warning. even through mere peripherals, the threat of his ‘anger’s’ emergence strains against his pants’ decorative captivity. as though your intentions lay in peeving him further — though, they certainly do — you snatch your wrist from the clasp of his fingers with a dauntless roll of your eyes. a mistake which even you could recognize at once, though your rationale could not view anything beyond your curiosity’s obstruction. “oh, shut up, jungwon. you’re not scaring anyone.” 

he absolutely was, though not just in the obvious likes of you. he frightened himself, too.

the air surrounding the two of you gains the opportunity to settle for nearly an entire minute before jungwon finds the words to occupy it again. she’s tipsy, he attempts to justify. she’s not usually like this, he tries once more. any attempts of self-placation, any reminders to persist in his heedfully tended patience with you only seem to bounce faultlessly among the floors of his brain. he’s almost convinced that a sound echoes in his ears as the remnants of his composure wither in the presence of his frustration. sure, he’s attentive to your emotions, sure, your safety earns the number one spot of his priorities, and sure, he can bear the brunt of your cranky moods in their rarity – what he cannot accept, however, is your refusal to budge from the behavior you’ve displayed all evening, and the blatant, disobedient pass of his name through your lips when you know how he expects you to address him instead. 

jungwon graces himself a step closer to you, the silence in his step amplified by the brewing promise of control in his demeanor. the dim command within his eyes seems to pin your body to the counter behind you before his palms even greet the space. as the silk of his lips yearn to meet your ear, his shoulders peak by consequence of the proximity. “you just crossed a fucking line i don’t tolerate,” a particularly harsh breath meets your neck in tribute to his narrow restraint. “if you keep pushing me like this, do you think i’ll be the one crying?”

the result of his anger presents itself to you, pressing right against you; the seat of his pants have begun to dissolve in a fray, and those ever-reliable elastic boxers only plead with him to make a last-ditch effort in self-regulation. the scales of this one-sided contest have tipped in your favor.

“no, but… i think you’ll be the one bursting,” your eyes make no attempt in concealing their objective as they visit his pant’s dilemma once more. “that’s about eleven inches now, isn’t it?”

there it is. the glide of his fingers along the countertop only provide brief comfort to the otherwise silence as he recedes in a single step. though even an action as easy as a single step backward bears the weight of every planet, with regard to the realization you just hurled upon him. every wrinkle in his brain reforms, collaborates in a reverse spiral of every action you’d displayed that night, every decision you’d made, and adjusts to the new light they create by result of your confession.

any previous suspicion couldn’t glance upon even a window within his mind, because he’d never place any facet of suspicion toward his baby girl – not ever in that subject. as he sees it – as he’s always seen it – he faced no hesitation in laying his trust with you. from the moment he’d lifted the dome surrounding his secret, revealing it to you, to someone who always sheltered him in a sense of security, certainty – he hadn’t reflected on his confession with a sense of regret. in light of you, nothing even nurtured the soils to bloom regret. you’d never processed his disorder as a joke, never processed his decree of ‘i’ll never hurt you with his, baby. ever,’ with anything aside from genuine reception, concern. now you’re the one doing the lifting, paring back a layer to the enclosure of a girl he’s never seen. 

and you’re smiling.

his expression contorts with every component responsible for the absolute conglomeration of emotion – hurt, shock, grief, and his anger’s graduation to wrath. they all rush to a common location, further obliterating the thread of his slacks which no longer presented resistance. his words consider themselves fortunate to escape the turmoil. 

“that’s… that’s what you wanted? that’s what it’s been about, this entire time,” his tone is coated in an ache you cannot place. it’s unlike any other sound his chest has produced before, and you’d held the belief that you heard them all. “you wanted me to fuck you when i’m angry.”

he wants to protect you from his anger, wants to restrict the urge to shout at you for the knowledge of how your mind will only freeze once confronted by the sound, but you don’t ease the process at all. you have no idea of his fear in truly hurting you – even more so now, as the probability has surged marginally.

“did it work?”

to you, it’s still a game – your question proves every bit of it, with assistance from the trace of a smile you still wore. 

though he doesn’t engage. not entirely, at least – his hands don’t snap around your arm to yank you forward, his arms don’t surround you with the intention of lifting you as he did at the restaurant. he only draws closer until he’s beside you, easing his hand between the connection of your lower back and the counter, then ushers you toward the stairs with a gentle command. 

with great power comes great responsibility – sure, though he would accept no responsibility for what would occur next.

the walk upstairs is uncomfortable, if the word could describe the hostility each nerve on the back of your neck defended themselves against. they stood to face him as though ensuring your safety. words would soothe your body with a sense of comfort in this moment, though he refused to utter a single one. even a shout would fare better than the silence – the absence of any insight to the nature of his thoughts was more frightening than you could prepare for.

though he hovered just under a foot behind you, an insistent poke from his cock still reached the swell of your ass.

rather than the slam you’d expected to suffer under the chime of, jungwon closes the bedroom door with a tender click. his hand encloses your wrist as he turns you to face him, the rapid swell and withdraw of his chest the only indicator to the feeling brewing within – his expression certainly carried no traces of it.

“you wanted this?” his voice arrives to you much steadier than you’d heard moments earlier, though still foreboding. with a tilt of his head, he gestures toward his cock, which protruded even his boxer’s pursuit in a barrier. it’s heft possesses a much more daunting presence than you’d hoped to encounter, specifically for the fact that it’s growth still had limits to surpass.

your eyes lift themselves from the sight of his pants’ massacre, the knots within your stomach seeming to bind even your limbs. 

“come on, be honest. did you want this?” even without a gesture, there’s no mistake to be made about what ‘this’ refers to – his cock would litter even a real elephant in a room with shame. 

“i… did,” your words almost want to apologize for insulting the air.

your admission harrows his features with a shadow, though he’d already faced the reality without any confirmation. though as it sails to his ears, with more betrayal than he’d ever witnessed, he urges himself closer to you, sending your body toward the bed’s direction by simply walking, his hands bracing your shoulders.

the plush of the blanket swaddles you in the only form of comfort you were set to encounter. his hands return to the skin of your shoulders, the touch careful not to reveal the intention beneath it – he lifts your upper body to hover just above the bed’s solace, sliding you upward until the pillow cradled you. the way he’d maneuvered you almost made you feel just like it. by ordinary course, your current position would lull you with every bit of safety his presence alone had conditioned your senses into expecting. though as he loomed before you, the broad expanse of his shoulders achieving more intimidation than consolation, every echo of safety was dismissed by fear. 

you avoid his eyes as though they reminded you of a promise you couldn’t keep. though with all things considered, they did. “i’m… i’m sorry…”

his jaw dances, further highlighting it’s prominence. though as replacement for any verbal response, his fingers task themselves in freeing each button upon his shirt. each pump of your heart arrives in quicker succession than the previous, and each pump of his own transfers more blood to the very, very significant object set to conduct your body’s destruction.

the carpet welcomes his shirt, accepting any trace of clothing obscuring his torso with gratitude. as much as you’d wanted them to, your eyes couldn’t navigate the trepidation to skim his body with the awe which they usually did. in this moment, you’re only in awe of the fact that he’s garnered enough restraint over the urge to snap your neck.

his belt scrapes the loops, the whisper as it mingles with the fabric donating to your fear as it forces you to reminisce. though you’d accept any of those punishments with delight if it were guaranteed to replace what he’s preparing for you in this moment. he unbuttons his pants – it were a miracle the button even remained – sending them to accompany his shirt in a heap of among the floor.

every snap of thread bore a testament to his composure, his reluctance in truly ever causing harm to his sweet girl. yet you’re his sweet girl who lied with such fluidity. therefore, his boxers’ removal faced no delay – though in their state, he would only be mocking them in continuing to wear them. 

you expect his next action to come with haste – you expect him to strip you naked, and pierce you with that weapon he calls a dick in tandem with the sound of his boxers’ remains hitting the carpet. you expect him even to bind your wrists with rope, obscuring your eyes with the silk of a blindfold. though your expectations have only demonstrated inaccuracy thus far. you don’t expect the sudden disturbance among the mattress as his body joins yours, lying beside you. more than anything, however, your mind couldn’t have dreamed of preparing a single shred of expectation for the words trailing his action. 

“take your clothes off. all of them.”

those words have never even considered traversing his tongue in the three years you’ve been with him. he’d always treated even the least taxing of actions as an opportunity to alleviate your ‘burden,’ to condition your mind into relying upon his assistance instead. to an even greater degree with intimacy – he’s never granted you the permission to remove his clothing during sex, much less your own. he’s punished you, without a glimmer of doubt – you’ve endured the trials of the saint andrew’s cross, shock collar, and cane on more frequent occasions than other men would deem suitable. though complete neglect in the face of your disobedience, your betrayal – you’ve never experienced anything quite like it. 

even so, you comply – compliance, and submission are your only options. the dress glides along your skin with a sensation that almost seems to burn you. only hours prior, it had embarked upon the same journey with every devious intention you’d graced it’s silk in. now, however, it seems to ridicule you in it’s descent to the carpet – once an accomplice to every atrocity you’d committed during the night, now a traitor as it evades punishment, free of every charge you were set to face on it’s behalf.  

still, it was all your fault.

your thong leaves you next, joining your dress in deliverance from the wrath of the man beside you. as your eyes desert the sight of your clothing, they return to him – your senses are only met by a startled chill, as it becomes apparent to you that he hadn’t taken his eyes off you once. though it wasn’t your eyes he relished in the sight of. rather, it was your pussy. 

his hand cradles you beneath your knee, lifting your leg to spread you, to render your pussy defenseless to his gaze and the cool tinge of the air in turn. his fingers don’t glide along the skin of your thigh, or trace your folds with such heed that you can feel every pattern within every pad of them; he only travels a direct path to his target, your fluid. he doesn’t extend his touch in a chase of your pleasure, only his own – he swipes his fingers between your folds, collecting your fluids in one, two scoops until it poses the risk of fleeing from his palm. you’ve never experienced such an aversion to his touch – though he hasn’t ever touched your pussy this way, like he’s neutral to her. like she’s only a bridge to something more important. 

as he withdraws his hand, he only returns it to his cock, lathering his head in your gracious contribution and distributing it along his heft’s entirety. 

his eyes remain in pursuit of yours, though your eyes remain on the sight of his cock – it’s enormous, needless to say, and you figure it would penetrate your womb in similar manner to the material of his slacks. his bulk rivals even the diameter of a soda can, and his length only narrowly misses that of a two liter bottle. even his own hand – his own large hand – finds it taxing to enclose the magnitude as he discovers a pattern of strokes. yet the most daunting of the revelations, is that he’s not even finished growing.

“daddy it’s… really big,” you observe as his fingers hardly find success in meeting. you meet his eyes, in search of any shred of reluctance, of mercy. 

“yeah, i told you it was. but you were just so curious, weren’t you,” his tone doesn’t hold the lilt a question would. 

your eyes glue themselves to his hand, to the rise and fall of it’s movement, the pace of twists he replicates along his cock – if it could even fall into that category anymore. you follow the traces of your own arousal, the sheen it adorns each unearthly vein in. it accumulates beneath the ridge of his tip, though such sights only encourage your pussy to brace with apprehension, rather than tighten in longing of being filled. you’ve only ever been filled by dicks, or dildos – never by the likes of a supernatural, otherworldly relic. 

“daddy’s not gonna touch me?”

his motions waver for a moment, before he renews them. his hand constricts his tip as he meets it – as much as his hand will allow, for that matter – aching to replicate that restrictive squeeze your pussy hugs him in when he’s emotionally regulated. and of his original size. 

“no,” the syllable leaves him with ease, mirroring disregard. “i’m not going to touch you.”

your pout blooms before you extend an attempt in repressing it, it’s arrival bleeding into your voice. “but…”

the veins along his forearm grow taut as he strokes himself faster, with more vigor. “but what? you thought you could just piss me off enough to fuck you when i could tear your body open? you thought i’d just go along with it? just forget about my own rule?”

“i just–”

his interruption comes with more speed than your thoughts can compensate. “you’re wondering why i’m not touching you?” a glint of sweat decorates the skin just above his lip as he speaks, his bicep swelling with the exertion each stroke demands. “you think i’m gonna reward you after you tried to manipulate me? lied to me? after you hurt your daddy?”

the only punishment which reigned successful in this situation was the removal of access to himself, to his reactions, to the safety of predictability. he’s all too aware of the fact that you enjoy several punishments – the ones you can predict, at least. this time, he figures he’ll remove that luxury, that semblance of control, and punish you with a method you’d never anticipate. with deprivation. swiping the ground from beneath your feet, extinguishing any light, any guidance until you’re isolated, drifting in a void with nothing to adhere to aside from seclusion and despair.

because he loves you, of course. 

your throat begins to prepare for the presence of tears. “i’m sorry daddy… i–”

any use of your breath – aside from breathing itself – was only fruitless in the face of the rage his words are propelled by. “you what? wanted me to fuck you? put your body in danger?” his hand retracts from his dick, halting his movements. though his eyes already drilled you, he adjusts his position on the bed to ensure you were burdened by every facet of his conviction. “do you care about your safety at all? do you care about how i feel about hurting you at all?” 

the last of his words carry gentler volume than the rest, by a generous margin. though his dick braces the gravity of his outburst, throbbing, pulsing at his veins as it matures by another inch. his head only sways in a gesture of exasperation. “and don’t even think about saying sorry to me again. you don’t know what sorry is right now. not yet.”

the state of your bodies bear such a juxtaposition to the extent of the feelings surging through the both of you. the arrival of tears along the brim of your eyelids only amplify it. “i’ve just always been… curious, daddy. and i thought,” your throat places restrictions on your next words. “i thought maybe i could handle it.”

his features don’t contort to a display of compassion, or much less sympathy as your tears spread to your face – his convictions don’t soften, nor does his dick. with the nature of your words, the recklessness they allude to, the fury within every trace of his face remains dormant. as he saw it, nurturing you in his typical manner would only validate the danger lacing your words.

he sends one hand to cradle your jaw, guiding you to face the other which braced his shaft. “this,” he emphasizes his unnatural girth as he jostles it. “isn’t a fucking fairytale. this will hurt you. and i mean irreparable harm,” he dismisses your jaw with a force alluding to the confinement of more. “do you understand that? or do you just care about getting fucked by a giant dick?”

your fingers draw in a collection of the blanket, garnering a sense of support. “i’ve just always thought that… if we were careful–”

the volume of his voice reaches it’s peak for the night. “careful? do you think i make rules for no fucking reason?” his hands sail to your face, nestling it with more ferocity than comfort could ever provide – though even anger couldn’t spur his fingers with the drive that desperation could. “don’t you realize i’m trying to protect you?”

your own volume crescendos, surpassing the degree of any subtle raise of your voice you’d ever addressed your daddy with. perhaps it’s the way he seems to talk down on you, as though even dust posed a threat to you. or the way he seems to classify you as a half-wit whore despite knowing the depths of you. regardless, you’ve grown weary of the relentless interruptions. 

“maybe… maybe i don’t always need your protection!”

his shoulders tense, then his forearms, then his hands, which surrounded your face. it plagues him again, the narrow restraint to just hurt you. though only for a brief moment, until they’re sliding from your face, a dry chuckle in attendance. “you don’t, huh? you know what,” the mattress begins to readjust as his body abandons it. “if you’re curious enough to betray your daddy, then maybe i’ll just show you.”

he treks the brief distance to the closet, his time spent among the space equally as brief – his movements are laced with intent, and he returns with the familiar traces of a shock collar among his grasp; though also the traces of an object you questioned his ability to even possess. more accurately, you almost questioned it – your daddy’s punishment devices knew no bounds.

though you weren’t sure of it’s name, you were more than acquainted with it’s purpose – it’s that silver, metal object which faintly resembled pliers your doctor relied on for seeing your cervix during vaginal exams. though jungwon’s intentions with it harrowed your body with more alarm than any visit to the doctor could. 

“isn’t that–”

the snap of the shock collar urges a jolt from you as it shrouds your neck. it generally wouldn’t, though the tension has induced many reactions which neither of you have ever exhibited. 

then, his next commands arrive in only their most concise form. “lay back.”

you scoot forward atop the bed to allow yourself the space to fully recline. 

“legs up.”

you legs immediately comply, bending as they long to meet your chest. though the warmth of his hand meets the back of your thigh, urging it forward to complete it’s journey. “all the way. both of them.”

your fingers rest on the back of your thigh, nestling between the fold of your legs. your calf soothes them as it relaxes atop each one. 

upon your obedience, his figure retreats to the closet once more. he returns with the company of an object that spurs no recognition to your brain. it’s entirely unfamiliar to you; it’s a long, metal rod – only a few inches longer than his dick, ironically – attended by two leather cuffs on either of it’s ends. this man was the tony stark of DDLG dynamics with no contenders. 

he begins to fasten each of the cuffs just below each of your knees, the leather tightening against your skin under the dictation of the buckles before you gain opportunity to express your hesitation. your hesitation would only appear in vain, anyway. 

“what’s this for?”

his eyes offer you no consolation as he adjusts the cuffs, ensuring their security. though his voice emerges, dormant as his expression. “this is for when you try to close your legs, tell me it’s too much. it’s called a spreader bar. and this,” he summons the other metal tool. “this is called a speculum.”

of course he fucking knows what it’s called. 

his body returns to the plush of the bed, though this time he sits atop it’s edge, adjusting his position to face you. he sends the speculum toward your entrance – the metal of it’s prongs skim the flesh of your opening, riddling you in its menace in the form of a chill traveling among your skin’s surface. 

“now we’re going to see how much you can really handle.”

the speculum begins to enter you, opening your walls to it’s intrusion with a seamless glide – though it doesn’t visit you with pain in tow, it’s joined instead by the companionship of paranoia.

“daddy… how far can this open?” 

he doesn’t halt its entrance – not halting your mind’s barrage of anxious questions, in turn – sliding it throughout the lubrication your walls offered until it plateaus, it’s metal extending as far within you as it’s handle will allow. it’s prongs yearned to reach that ever-reactive spot your upper walls offered, though it’s fortune ran short just shy of it. sure, it’s length was less than daunting, to understate it – but the potential of it’s expansion is what had your stomach discovering another knot to bind, just for it’s sake. and your pussy latching to it, with such irony.

“as far as it needs to,” his eyes return to your own, so detached from his warmth that they almost seemed to be draped in clinicals. “comfortable?” though his tone didn’t carry enough concern to rival even a doctor. 

for that reason, you offer his question no answer – you know he didn’t truly expect one. you only spare your eyes of the sterile assessment within his own, sending your nails to imprint the skin of your thighs further. which seemed to be the only semblance of comfort you were set to receive. 

just as each of your tendons wind themselves tighter, he does it. the speculum’s first click resounds the confines of the room, it’s handle relenting to the pressure of his hand. though the sound bears more terror than the event it describes, because it hasn’t yet stretched you to the range that his normal cock does.

“you know, for someone who wanted to handle it, you’re being pretty silent,” he ruptures those diagnostic-prepared features for only a moment, relenting to the stretch of a smirk. 

“i’m… focusing,” the steady ascent, and descent of your chest solidifies that statement. look at you, left to rely on the breathing techniques now.

pride at your ability to govern your composure would fill him, if not for the nature of the situation. “focusing, huh?” another click rattles your chest, ruling your body with a jolt. “i hope you can maintain it.”

the metal certainly forces your walls to surpass the width of his cock, now – the stretch still remains within the realm of manageable, though even a hair’s breadth wider would cross the threshold separating tolerance and pain. he notices the way your fingers tense against your skin, holding onto your thighs as though the bar separating them wasn’t already fulfilling that purpose. even the way the space between your brows twitches, creases with enough subtlety to evade notice. though he discovers every facet of your reactions, and he bears the knowledge that your limit is approaching — and so soon, at that. 

his hand tightens on the speculum’s handle, urging it to open further. another click as the soundtrack to your walls expanding past their limits. the stretch easily exceeds his cock, which only delivers slight discomfort as it parts your walls to it’s intrusion. the tears brimming your eyes are only a symptom to the sting, the threat of rupture that this object forces onto your walls.

he immerses himself in your eyes, in your attempt at preventing your tears departure. nothing rends his heart more than the sight of your pain – your genuine, unfettered pain. even so, the ache within his chest doesn’t hinder his conviction. with all laid bare, you begged for this, summoned this. you hadn’t realized what you’d be unleashing as you cast the spell, though with every sip of champagne, every syllable of mockery, you wished for this – and even now, he’s only issued a fraction of the repercussions.

“touch yourself,” his tone almost instills the command more than the words.

your eyes fly from his hand, to his own. you visit the possibility that you’ve misheard him, but the words rang clear. “what?”

he only tightens his hand against the speculum, though not with enough pressure to earn a click – only extend an incentive. “go on, touch yourself. you’re getting off to this, right? so do it.”

“but–”

“do it,” the interruption blooms from his impatience. 

no other options present themselves to you. you weren’t getting off to to this, without a trace of doubt – your fingers are digging into your thighs as though a reprieve from the pain were embedded within the flesh, your tears are only scarcely clinging to the ledge your eyelids offered, and the walls of your pussy were passing the limits of their elasticity, drawing thin under momentum that only a snap could interrupt. 

nonetheless, it’s an order. you certainly wanted to prevent the situation from worsening, in any manner you could.

one of your hands departs your thigh, the skin beneath it receiving a chill in it’s absence. with a pace hindered by hesitance, you send your fingers to your clit, circling it with such reluctance that it truly honored just how delicate the bundle was. he seems to accept your gentle movements, if another click from the speculum provided enough evidence. 

though as the pain urges you to falter, his voice rings. “keep going. don’t let the pain stop you. isn’t it exactly what you wanted?”

your tears descend from the ledge, joining the skin upon your face in a glimmering trail. however, you oblige to his command – your fingers resume their motion, circling your clit with the burden of torture rather than hesitance, now. needless to say, you derived no pleasure from the sensation. it only served as an extension to the pain seeping into every over-extended tissue within your walls.

“daddy, stop! please, stop… i can’t–”

the remote within his other palm awakens, his thumb pressing the button which sends the currents of a shock to harrow your body, your every pore. the skin of your neck sears beneath the collar, each trace of your blood receiving it’s remnants. 

“can’t what? can’t handle it?” his expression relents to desperation’s return, even in its subtlety. “what were you thinking, getting yourself into this?” 

your breathing loses it’s momentum in the race of steady – it trembles under the collateral effects of your tears, disturbing the otherwise silence with its wavers. “it hurts! and i… i didn’t think–”

his swift inhale joins your breath as the only sounds in the room, his head swaying in a faint shake. “you didn’t think it would hurt? is that it? you thought it was going to feel good?”

the speculum expands further as his hand ignites the movement – your eyelids draw together as though searching for comfort in each other, prodding more tears to join the sea among your face. “no! no more!”

though your plea serves as no contender to the shield his resolve posed. he wouldn’t ease his instincts in protecting you, demonstrating his reasons in creating barriers for you, even if he was the catalyst in the pain you received. “you like seeing me get protective? this is as protective as i’ll ever get.”

under his hand’s coercion against the handle, the speculum releases another click – the final, as it’s evolution has now reached its peak, the prongs fully realizing their potential as they discover their hilt. it’s always been a mystery to you, whether or not the vagina produces a sound when being torn – though now you know it doesn’t. it just happens, sending a fissure through every fiber your walls could offer, moving with enough speed that it’s occurrence shocks you, though enough drag that you could feel every progression of it.

a shriek isn’t even provided the space to flee from your throat, as your chest and throat assist each other in latching to it. your tears accomplish little in the field of communicating your pain; the expression on your face, however, absorbs every trace of it – your eyelids hugging in such taut measure, your lips raised to unveil a glimpse of your teeth, your nose adorned by creases which typically communicated your displeasure.

though this transcended any description befitting displeasure – it was a pain you couldn’t have ever wished to avoid experiencing, because you weren’t even aware of its existence. an agony which every bit of your body seems to plead for escape from in the form of your tears, your breaths, your echoes of shouts. the rod of the spreader bar asserts itself against your skin as you send pressure against it, almost negotiating with it to allow you to close your legs. 

the speculum retracts, the handle freed from the pressure of his hand as he removes it from your walls, the pull brewing remnants of the pain you’d only just experienced a moment’s reprieve in. 

“if that hurt you, then my dick is going to kill you.”

his body departs from the bed, favoring the closet’s direction as he returns to it. a muted clang which could only be attributed to the speculum disturbs the rhythm of your breath as you jump. that damned tool had even wounded you psychollogically. 

he emerges to remove your shock collar, his fingers tasking themselves in loosening the buckles. the fact that you were wearing it had escaped from your memory completely, though you were sure many other things followed a similar path under the ambush of such pain. 

your voice coats the gentle sounds of the spreader bar’s removal. “you don’t… you don’t care about me.”

the demand within his eyes stills you like a physical touch. his movements halt, his fingers pausing in their journey of releasing the buckle which constricted your left knee. “what? you really think i don’t?” 

warmth spreads along the skin of your left knee, as his hand just rests there. your voice only reaches him by the grace of the room’s otherwise silence. “you said you wouldn’t hurt me. you just hurt me worse than ever.”

your knee is granted with a chill, as his hand withdraws from it. the second cuff of the spreader bar remains partially fastened to your knee, though his interest lay in matters of more importance. the pillow yields to the press of his hands which occupied either side of your head. “i care about you so much, that i’m teaching you a lesson,” his elbows relent to his weight as he leans closer to you. “that’s more care than you can get from anyone else.”

as your eyes only signal to resignation among realization, and pain, his lips separate to allow a sigh’s escape. with a subtle shove against the pillow, he abandons it. his fingers return to the spreader bar’s final cuff, unfastening it’s latches. “you’re the one who wanted it. so badly, that you’d manipulate me. i was only giving you a glimpse of what it would feel like.”

the cuff slides from your knee, concluding it’s removal. the tension, the residuals of tears seem to constrict your vocal chords. though any emergence of words would only come in the form of revelations to your guilt.

he returns the spreader bar to it’s haven among the closet, the broad expanse of his back concealing itself once more as his gaze returns to you. his hands discover your wrists – though only with gentle intentions – parting them from the refuge they’d discovered upon your thighs, urging your legs to unwind, descend to the plush of the blanket. in your haze of tension, you hadn’t realized just how unwavering you’d remained in the position. the shift rouses an echo to the pain your pussy had endured. 

his fingers sail up your arms, extending their travels to the course of your waist before stilling there in a tender clasp. “now we’re going to find out,” the compression of his hands guide you from the bed, your own hands hurrying to discover his shoulders. those ever-dependable shoulders, showcasing their strength against you rather than for you.

your throat concedes to your protest. “but, daddy i’m bleeding,” as he adjusts you to join the sanctuary his arms provide, and your legs adhere to his torso, the blood from your pussy provides it’s warmth to the ridges of his torso. 

though he remains fixed in purpose – the arrival of your blood was no surprise to him. with the nature of his dimensions, he only expects you to bleed more tonight.  “yeah, you are. but it might actually help you.”

you were already more than sure that your daddy was a human anomaly if you’ve ever known one. but suggesting that blood could simulate lube was peculiar, even in regards to him.

the blankets adjust to his body as he returns to them, sitting atop the bed with you in tow. his legs extend the along the bed’s vacancy in front of him, your own remaining content with his body in their clutches. the positioning he adjusted both of your bodies to the captivity of was daunting by mere existence – sure, he’s had you like this before, though it was never bundled with a foot of solid dick nestled between your stomachs, and it certainly never entailed the imminent event of it impaling you.

your expression must betray every sentiment of your wariness with more success than even your lips could – his hands enclose your waist with more fervor, urging your eyes to share the space of his own. “if we’re gonna do this, then this is the only way we can.”

though the fright, the aversion attempted to bargain with you, to ward you from your current track with a deluge of reminders – reminders of the speculum’s pain (and the reality that his dick would only supersede it), the extent of the provocation required to arrive upon your current circumstances (which should’ve succeeded in warding you, on it’s own), the fact that his heft currently prods at the skin just below your ribcage, without entry. even so, the exhibit of memories only aid in cementing your determination further – the determination you’d latched so fiercely to, longing for inspiration in every action, every decision you’d made tonight. you couldn’t abandon your hunt, not when the treasure stood just before you.  

your words ensue a measured breath, and entail an unfolding of events you’ve never navigated. “alright, daddy.”

at your word – though he didn’t truly require it – he begins to lift you from the refuge of his thighs, sending you to sail ever-upward, in voyage to the tip of his cock. though the duration seemed to rival even the ascent of a roller coaster in search of it’s peak. as you saw it, however, the peak which you were set too descend from was much more thrilling than anything an amusement park could offer. 

“you can’t be tense, baby girl. okay? gotta make space for daddy,” and there it was, the return of the endearment he was adept in providing you with – you were certain he wouldn’t deprive you of it’s reassurance, not in a moment you required it the most. 

each tendon across the expanse of your body seems to soften as the endearment seeps into them. even the muscles within your waist seem to slacken beneath his hands. with the wordless confirmation, he begins – your body hovers just above his dick, the threat of it’s intrusion, and he leads you to it. his tip begins to part you, breaching your entrance with more intensity than any stretch that’s ever crossed it. even the speculum hadn’t prepared you.

the escape of your breath as a signal, a plea in discomfort halts any further movement from him, your body hovering above him with only his tip in it’s depths. “hey, just look at me. just keep your eyes on daddy, the whole time.”

you follow his instructions, as you’ve been conditioned to do, returning to your autonomy despite the deviations you’d made tonight. he sends you further into descent, onto the intrusion of his cock which eclipses his original size, without even a thought – every facet of your lower body aids your walls in accommodating the entry of a sensation they’ve never felt, a force they’ve never been separated by, a stretch they couldn’t propose any comparison to. his every ridge, his every inch in diameter seems to rekindle the pain of the stretch you’d endured only moments prior, skimming without mercy along the fissures your walls were now adorned in, collecting the blood you’d previously shed to ease its own access. your eyes dwell the space within his own, unwilling to visit the scene of his insertion, for worry that the sight may serve to amplify the pain. though your tears begin to blur even the sight of him.

“is it… am i close? to the end…”

you wouldn’t like his answer. his eyes retreat behind his eyelids for only a moment, before he opens them with a steady exhale. “not even halfway yet, baby.”

you hoped he would confess that he was lying, only jesting with you to alleviate the discomfort. though he doesn’t, and you’re left to navigate the fact that he currently nudged against the barrier of your cervix, ripped through your walls with a width you never had the facilities to imagine, though he wasn’t even halfway in yet.

“we’re getting there baby, alright?” his voice is strained, just as his cock is – the compression of your pussy made even his regular cock wither, reduced it’s freedom to move. though with his size nearly doubled, the effort he expended to enter you seemed to exert him even without movement. 

as he urges you further down, the threat once posed to your cervix finds appeal in your womb instead. his tip breaches the threshold, shoving past your pussy’s attempt at an obstacle, reducing every tissue within it’s gates to ruin in a manner which doesn’t allow a chance for the reprieve of liminal space. he doesn’t just inhabit the walls of your pussy anymore – he inhabits the walls of your uterus. every increment of every motion is now a sensation you feel within your tummy, your surrounding organs seeming to shift in accommodation to space he now occupies. you ovaries seem to drift further from each other as he plagues them with a feeling that evades the mediocre description of a cramp. 

it’s a miracle you find the voice to speak, because any form of movement from you seems to accentuate the violation his dick rearranged your body with – resonating, reminding. though it was certainly hard to forget. “daddy… t-thats… that’s my–”

his brows crease the space between them, his eyes receiving a flutter which even the butterflies within your stomach couldn’t rival. he could feel even your most subtle movements, too. “your womb, baby. daddy knows.”

his hand cascades along the skin of your back, his middle finger riding within the dip of your spine before he reaches your head, tipping it forward. “but look at that, baby. daddy’s all the way in.”

the sight would unsettle you, if you didn’t know what was responsible for it. the skin of your stomach protruded as though something were trying to escape – the shape of his cock stood ever-apparent through your skin, every trace of him swelling along your torso, his tip the only deviation as the skin just between your navel and your ribs betrays it’s contours. such distance lies between the head of his cock and your g-spot, it was no question his cock would pass over it with each movement. 

“daddy i’m… too full,” though full could only suffice in describing the feeling within your stomach when you’ve indulged too much, or the feeling within your bladder when you’ve held it in past the limit of acceptable – you weren’t full. you were packed beyond the hilt. 

he doesn’t offer a response, nor does he commence movement by lifting your body – even so, he inches inside of you, slides along the layers of your stomach with a motion that mimics thrusting. though he’s not thrusting – he’s growing inside of you. the growth plagues him, burdens him – of course it pains him to grow to this extent, to amass enough anger within his blood to bloom his cock to it’s apex, though it pained him even more for it to occur inside of you. to deform your body, to approach your organs with enough disregard to force them to part in his presence. your pain alone is enraging him.

even so, he’s never been one to abandon a lesson meant to shape you. 

“you feel that?” his question arrived in a breath along your neck, meant to draw your attention to his intrusion rather than earn an answer. of course you felt it. even if a vein twitched, you’d feel it without a doubt. “that’s as big as daddy gets.” 

his arms tense to lift you, sending you upward only to drag you toward descent, the head of his cock kneading your uterine walls with each movement, the contours of his shaft skimming every groove of that reactive patch within you, the proximity tight enough that even his follicles grazed you. “and this is what its like when daddy moves. my baby like that?”

though you couldn’t form a response – his cock’s movements forced so much air to your throat that even breathing seemed exhaustive, much less speaking.

“you like that i’m ripping you apart baby? you like that you can’t do anything, but take it?” it’s as though your walls were tethered to the skin of his shaft – where he went, they trailed by association. his hands almost seemed to force your waist closer, force you to squeeze even tighter against every bumpbumpbump that his cock creates as it passes over every ridge within your uterus.

it all makes sense now. his reluctance, his protection – he’s urging parts of your body to swell, to stretch that you never even knew were durable. though in all fairness, they aren’t; he’s only forcing them to be. he compels your cervix into dilating as though in preparation for a baby, he humbles every muscle within your uterus as he extends it to rival the elasticity of any rubber band, he prods your bladder with a threat of penetration in each point of connection. 

this was hardly sex, more a massacre. 

though even with regard to the pain, you certainly weren’t left craving pleasure – you only ever really crave things when you missed them, when you’ve been deprived of them for a long while. you didn’t have a single opportunity to crave more pleasure, because even the placements of his cock submerged you in it. as you’ve learned, a single seed bears many fruits. 

“fuck… just me, baby. just this dick,” silly of him to even form the words, as though you even thought of any other dick. your arms surround his neck, adhering to him for any semblance of stability, of balance. though his hands adhere further to your waist, driving every inch of his bulk through the most sacred places within your body each time he lowers you with impact that demands obedience, compliance. and even as he tore them, your walls still hugged him, expressed themselves in the only way they’ve been conditioned to in regard to him. even your uterine walls contracted to his dick, bracing him as though welcoming a guest they finally got to meet, instead of feeling mere reverberations from. 

your voice emerges, muttering the only syllable your throat can muster, as it’s passed the space so much it’s nearly embedded there. “da…” 

he knows you’ve reached it, that point nestled between the margins of overwhelm, and delirium. you’ve surrendered your motor control, your internal command, and entrusted it to him instead. any movement, any direction, any facet of will – it all lies under his reign, his dominion. within you, even the existence of a self was debatable. everything belonged to him. and now, even your organs, your ligaments, your innards flaunted the traces of it. 

“my baby girl’s gonna cum? come on, baby… give daddy everything.”

though you approached it, the words propel you with haste into a state of utter consummation. your walls palpitated, shivered around him as you came, sending every element which aided in your creation to be consumed by him. from the entrance of your pussy, to the cavities of your ovaries, to the edges of your bladder – he overwhelms every tissue within them with such a compelling light that it muddles their vision, their only hope for guidance lying within him. 

he observes your every reaction – the manner your body stills, relenting only to the occasional rack of a shudder coursing through you, rippling your skin. the manner your eyes seem to mimic the ripples, fluttering in their only form of defense against pleasure which burdened them. the manner your legs and your pussy latch to him, pleading for deliverance in the form of more or less, they couldn’t decide. 

his breath coats your neck, his hands no longer yielding to caution, as your body has acclimated to any threat his dick posed. the steady pattern of lifts, and plunges, become littered with urgency – his movements are so swift, that you’re no longer sure whether you’re rising or falling, every motion blending only into the speed that jostles you. he cums, the gushes of it flowing with such abundance that urges even the confines of your womb to swell. further than his dick already caused it to, somehow. he jolts with each flow of it, the length of every vein swelling against your walls with the pumps of his blood throughout them, the tip of his cock nudging violently enough to pierce every layer of your stomach’s lining. your torsos connect with every lingering slide of his cock, each movement encouraging your skin to caress his. 

he slides his hands up your waist, treating your body with the reverence he withheld all night. then he passes the skin of your arms, holding onto them with such tender intention as pulls them from his neck. he calls your eyes, with his own. “hey… hey baby,” he navigates the haze of your trance – induced by your submission, your obedience – with the ease of second-nature. “i’m gonna pull you off of me, alright? i need you to come back to me.”

though you don’t speak, you offer the confirmation of a nod. it’s all he needs, as he knows you’ve heard him. 

he lifts you from his cock, the time it expends doubling his usual withdraw – because he’s meeting you with only delicate touches, though also because he’s never pulled fifteen hard inches out of you, either.

his arms still cradle you as he leaves the bed’s solace, your legs still holding to him as though separation would be a transgression – though in your mind, it would. with every movement, his cum sloshes around your womb – it’ll probably reside there forever, considering the depths it uncovered. the chill of the counter presents a gentle shock to your lower body as he sets you there, your pussy staining the resin with your blood. he didn’t mind at all, he wouldn’t mind even if you peed there. “hold on, baby,” he withdraws from you only to run the bath, the water tumbling from the faucet and battling the acrylic until it’s full.

he traverses the subtle distance between the two of you, raising you from the counter to reside within the refuge his arms offered – though only as conduit to the tub’s waters, which swaddled every pore on your body with warmth as he settled you within them. his fingers depart from your body in a tender glide, reminding you of the fact that he’s not a monster, despite what his chemical makeup had to say about it.

his knees relent as he crouches beside the ledge of the bath, his dick devolving, softening to it’s original size of nine inches, though you couldn’t see. “you ever want daddy to do that again?”

you only offer a gentle sway of your head in denial, your eyelids hardly permitting you to gaze upon him. he decorates the air with a chuckle, his hand disturbing the water’s faint currents as he reaches beneath them to grab your own – as he does, he guides it to his lips to brush your palm in the kiss he hadn’t given you, then your lips with same warmth. “didn’t think so.”

curiosity didn’t kill you, but it definitely killed your cat.

taglist: < @woncryphilia @slowincision 3 @swetmeal @poisonouschristmastree @peachiepeachieup @zoemurareblogs @k1ttyjwon @01209r @strawberrykkk1 @wonnienyang @isagisn1glazer @seongiewon @wondash @wonkitti @hachiiikawa @milza12 @twinklingsparkling @hhoneyhan @shawnyle @starry-eyed-bimbo @ikeuwoniee @hii01mii @sbijks @fancypeacepersona @yjwpout @aruhoon @intromortal @foodqueen1234 @stercul1a @iamjusttryingtoreadapost @nexxus13 @wonnieeluvvr @enhypenlovre @zoe1love @jngwonskitten @nezukoocore @lionzyon @10hr22 @needyjwon @d4zedndc0nfused @synielve @nsfwjay @jakeyyyjakexoxo

[hoonieangel]

this is like crazy

[flrtwoo]

r/BadParking | 38 (final)

✐ᝰ jungwon’s idea of commitment starts and ends with his 9-to-5: deadlines, structure, and way too much overtime. then you show up, and suddenly he’s the one off balance. he’s falling fast, but you’re crushing on someone else—and also, someone keeps stealing his damn parking slot!

previous | masterlist

a/n: and that’s it for r/badparking 🥹 thank you thank you THANK YOU to everyone who’s been here, following the series! whether u kept up from the start or discovered this towards its end, either way—i am deeply appreciative of u 🫂 i honestly wouldn’t have finished the series without all ur support! it’s motivated me, given me inspiration, and increased my love n attachment for/to this series 🤍 thank u to my Comments Gang, yk who u are!!!! i love interacting and hearing ur thoughts on the series, fr makes my day 😁 thank u to my wonderful moots who i’ve befriended through this series, i am so grateful for u guys 🤗 and whether ur a silent reader or not, just know: I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH! u’ve made this whole experience so enjoyable and i cannoooot wait to make more content like this just so i can connect with u all again ❤️‍🩹 and of course … to my man … THANK YOU JUNGWON i love u . thank u for making me crazy in the head .

**i’d love to write bonus/spin-off chapters!!! feel free to req if u want to see more of r/badparking ynwon and the gang 🙂‍↕️ i love these characters too much, i think i’ll be emotionally attached to them for a while 😭

taglist 1 (closed!): @bestboileeknow @won1yoiz @rikidaze @maverickroyalromanoff @cara9065 @starboy-library @kimuranirisi @kirakun @veulette @swetmeal @sourkiki @somuchdard @misxteri @melhorentidade-morte @s0shroe @nariyuwu @wonnieluv @jucybondylizard @hyunjinslongasslegs @dammit-jjk @desireunleashes @weepingsweep @leomcshizzle @ikeufied @soobsdior @w3willris3 @frosten9-11 @nyfwyeonjun @casszzzii @hoondolls @soobundle1009 @wonuziex @amatariki @yunkiism @whoisaleki @petitnrk @reikaxslvr @tsukheeshima @fatalhee @areikii @moarmy7 @to-toad @slvrnm @lobixenha

[hoonieangel]

this whole series ate down! i loved it ❤️❤️

[junsfriend]

loyal puppy — sjy

SUMMARY: Ever since your boyfriend Jake transformed from his nerdy high-school self into the university's star football player, you've become everything you thought you’d never be. Jealous. Anxious. Clingy. But Jake really doesn't mind your newfound possessiveness. He encourages it, even. So when he defies expectations again to star in a musical with a stunning costar, you spiral. Now, the “lowkey” relationship you once insisted on gets jeopardized under the weight of your own insecurities.

PAIRING: popular!jake x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 26k+

GENRE: secret!relationship au, university!au, grumpy gf x sunshine bf (?), smut, angst, fluff, some toxic themes

WARNINGS: mdni, nsfw, porn with plot, ragbaiter!bf Jake, tsundere!reader, lowkey crazy!reader, whipped!Jake, switch!Jake, emotional constipation, he want that cookie bad, jealousy, avoidancy, football = soccer, unsafe/unprotected sex, cursing, sweat, dacryphilia, storage closet sex, lots of biting/marking, 69, cumplay, jewelry play, begging, failed pull-out method, creampie, squirting, lmk if i missed anything

A/N: Not to pick a favorite child but… I loved writing this fic so much. 

–

a year ago.

It’s the last year of high school, on a relatively normal walk back home. The same cracked sidewalks, the same autumn breeze, the same shy boy matching his steps beside you like he always did. Just like any other day. 

Until he decided to ruin it.

“Do you wanna… like, date?” Jake asked suddenly, hands shoved deep into his uniform pants pockets, trying too hard to sound nonchalant. “You know… put a label on us. Or whatever.”

You remember almost running away out of pure instinct, soul escaping your body. But instead, you laughed. Because what the fuck was he on about?

You? Jake? Date?

The two of you were barely even supposed to be friends. He's a straight-A student teachers constantly compared you to, with those thick-rimmed black glasses glued to his face and unkempt bowl of hair. A striker on the football team who watched matches from the sidelines just as much as you did… and you weren't on the team.

And on the other hand, there’s you. Not-so-pleasant you. Considered a troublemaker because you always showed up late to class, talked back to ill-meaning adults, and picked fights with boys who catcalled too much. A rumor spread through school that your dad was a terrifying loan shark with gang ties. He’s a banker.

Assigned classroom cleaning duties was what brought you two together in the first place. It wasn’t fate. Nothing notable. You more or less picked him up on your shoulder and claimed him as a personal assistant. Someone who would fetch you water when you’re thirsty or give you answers to math problems when you were too lazy to solve them yourself. 

So why in the world did he think you two should date?

“Who put you up to this?” you wheezed between bursts of cackling. “I’m gonna beat their ass.”

Jake scratched the back of his head, clearly not amused.

“I mean… You and me?” you continued, tears of laughter blurred your vision. “We would make the worst couple ever—”

“I don’t think so.”

You froze mid-step. Jake had slowed his strides down a long time ago, but now he was completely still. You turned to find him a few steps behind, face flushed and hands by his sides. 

He’s holding something. A small, turquoise box. One that looked suspiciously like…

You felt like throwing up.

“I-I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” he stammered. “What it’d be like if I were your boyfriend. If we… went on dates and stuff.”

Oh, hell no.

It’s like an immediate sense of panic overcame your body. And before your brain could process a single rational thought, you broke out into a sprint. Running down the street like a maniac. In hindsight, you probably should’ve known that you couldn’t outrun an athlete. But you weren’t really thinking, period. 

You feel a tug on your waist. Jake had already caught up to you. He spun you around, like the male leads do in those stupid romcoms, and pulled you into him. His face was close. Too close. His glasses slipped halfway down his nose, and a bead of sweat clung to his temple. And it wasn’t from running.

It was from you.

He looked nervous. Ridiculously nervous.

The ring box pressed into your back, and you put your palms sternly against his chest, trying to create some distance between you two. It wasn’t helping.

“Jake,” you warned. “Let go of me or I scream.”

He shook his head, his arms only wrapped tighter around you. “Only if you promise you won’t run,” he replied, a sort of desperation laced in his voice. “And that you’ll listen to what I have to say.”

You bit your bottom lip, suddenly too aware of his intense gaze and how they searched yours through those big, fat lenses. You gave a small nod, not trusting your voice to come out right. The moment his grip loosened, you broke your agreement almost immediately. Your feet moved on their own, like fight-or-flight, as you tried to rush out of his arms. But he was one step ahead of you, grabbing your wrist to bring you back right where you were.

“Really?” he asked, exhausted. “That’s not gonna work a second time.”

You glared, but your eyes betrayed you. They slid down to the turquoise ring box, still in his hand. Jake's eyes flickered in the same direction, clearing his throat awkwardly. 

“I can put it away if it’s freaking you out,” he muttered, slipping it back into his pocket. You almost let out a sigh of relief, but not when his large hand was still wrapped around your wrist.

“...Thank you,” you mumbled, eyes fixed on the ground. “Now make it quick.”

Jake's heart constricted. ‘The worst thing she could say is no!’ the internet had told him. This was a lot worse, actually!

“[Y/N],” he started sharply, and the sound of your name on his lips sent shivers down your spine. He released you, only to set both his hands on your shoulders, guiding your gaze up to meet his.

“I… I think—” He stopped, inhaling a deep breath. “No. I know. I… really… really… l-like you.”

His voice was as shaky as his hands, and for a brief second, almost every part of you wanted to knock him out with your backpack because your heart was beating too loud in your chest. It pissed you off. But you held back and just… stared.

Jake, ever the hopeless romantic, had fallen for you the moment you asked him to clean the entire classroom alone while you skipped duties to hang out with your friends. He said yes, only because he has a hard time saying no, especially to someone he found so pretty. But then you laughed and told him you were joking. Told him not to bend over backwards just to please other people. Spent time with him that day when usually, others paid him no attention.

He was enamored ever since. 

But the silence between you two was suffocating, heavy enough to stall his breathing. Jake’s palms were growing damp against the fabric of your uniform blazer, and his heart felt like it was ready to fall to the floor. Maybe this was a bad time to do it. Or maybe the ring really freaked you out. Was it too big a gesture? The WikiHow tutorial he consulted had told him to bring a gift, after all. 

“Hello?” Jake’s voice cut through your thoughts. He gave your shoulders a tiny shake, trying to pull you out of your entranced state.

“Hm? Sorry… say that again? I don’t think I heard you…”

Jake’s expression fell as he dropped his hands back to his sides in defeat.

“Okay,” he muttered, voice small. It wasn’t worth it. Everything went off script anyway. “Never mind. Pretend I didn’t say anything.”

He brushed past you, shoulders hunched, hands shoved deep in his pockets again. He was fidgeting with the ring box, wishing he could throw it into the nearest bushes. God, he felt dumb. 

So fucking dumb.

Of course you’d say no! He was nobody. Just Jake. Just some guy you latched onto at the start of high school so you could poke fun at him for the next few years and make him pay for your boba addiction. And you, with your cool-ass friends with eyebrow slits and really underground music tastes. You’re way out of his league—

“Jake,” you called out, surprised at how loud your voice could get if you were desperate. 

He turned around immediately, wearing such a pronounced pout even from a few meters away. Somehow, seeing his face again made your throat close up. He liked you. He really liked you.

“Say it again,” you demanded, arms crossed with doubt written all over your features. “I need to hear you say it one more time.”

You walked toward him until you stood close enough to see the nervous twitch at the corner of his mouth. Was this it? Would you actually give him a chance? Jake pressed his lips together and inhaled a deep breath to calm himself. 

“I like you,” he said as softly as a whisper. “Would you… Be my girlfriend?”

You looked at the ground, feigning a calmness when your mind was racing with thoughts too insane to vocalize. When you finally looked up again, your heart betrayed you. It skipped a beat at the way his gaze fell on yours, wide and hopeful. It almost hurt. He was too bright, too cute.

(Okay, so what if you liked him back. He didn’t have to know that.)

“Sure,” you said, forcing your voice to sound casual. Jake froze.

Then his entire face lit up. Suddenly, he was grinning from ear to ear, jumping in place like a dog begging for a treat. “Really? Like really? You’ll go out with me?!”

He took your hands in his, tenderly. Like he wasn't entirely sure the moment was real. You felt the dampness of his palms first, then the tug of his fingers intertwining with yours, like he had already rehearsed this part of his confession a thousand times in his head. Your cheeks warmed.

‘What a weirdo,’ you thought to yourself. It’s not like he’d just won the lottery. What was he so happy about?

“Just don’t make it weird,” you grumbled. “Keep it on the down low.”

Jake’s smile faltered, brows knitting together so tightly you were sure it’d leave a wrinkle on his cute face.

“Like… you don’t want people to know?” he asked, voice quieter now. You nodded, confused by his confusion. 

“Why would anyone need to know?” you asked genuinely. He frowned, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand, silently asking you to reconsider.

“Not even Sunghoon or Jay?”

You scoffed. “Especially Sunghoon and Jay.”

“Why not?” he groaned. You just shrugged.

“I don’t want our dynamic to change just ‘cause we’re dating,” you reassured him, letting go of his hands to ruffle his hair. Like you always do when you tease him. Like that would make it all better. “And all that coupley PDA stuff draws too much attention anyway.”

You’d spent years cultivating your intimidating persona, and in your mind, it was simple. No one else needed to know that you were vulnerable to something as cringe-inducing as dating. The other students would only use it against you. For what? Who knows.

But you could just imagine the teasing glances and whispers in the hallways. If Jake were really serious about dating you, surely he’d be understanding of your aversion towards embarrassment. Right?

He didn't seem entirely convinced. At all. “So… what would be the difference then? Between us now and before?” 

You sighed and stepped past him.

“It's what we'd do in private, you know?” you muttered over your shoulder. “Kissing and all that…”

You didn’t see it, how Jake’s ears completely reddened or how his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. His fingers twitched at his side, like he was already imagining what it’d be like to hold you properly. To touch you. To kiss you. Like real couples do.

“D-do you want to see the ring I got you?” he blurted out, catching up to you. “I swear it’s lowkey. It has a ‘J’ engraved inside the band. I got a matching one with your initial, too! No one would even notice if you wore it—”

And you feel your heart thunder in your chest, scaring you into another sudden sprint. “Get the hell away from me, weirdo!” 

Your joined laughter echoed down the street as he chased after you. And even though he could catch up to you, he let you have your fun, staying just a little out of his reach.

–

Jake is very good at obeying orders, always has been. Especially after the first few times you glared at him for accidentally reaching for your hand in the cafeteria. He learned fast.

He tried his best not to show affection publicly, no matter how badly he wanted to wrap his blazer around your shivering frame when you would nap during class. He forced himself not to linger near you when you were loitering with your fellow delinquents by the school staircase, laughing at a joke he didn’t quite understand. He suppressed the urge to defend you from teachers who reprimanded you out in the hallways. Tried not to look behind at you for too long during football games he never played in anyway.

Once, someone asked him about his love life, and he instantly turned into a blushing, mumbling mess. And they laughed it off. It was Jake. No one thought twice. He was always like this. Awkward. Flustered.

The parasites he calls friends, Jay and Sunghoon, would probably go into cardiac arrest if they ever found out how he doted on you in private. How soft he was. How gentle.

You pretended not to notice. But ever the observer, Jake sees how your defenses weaken, ever so slightly, each day.

You let him put his arm around you in dark movie theaters instead of yanking it away. Let him stay for dinner with your parents when he comes over to help you study (because lord knows you need it). You stopped flinching when he called you ‘babe’ in private, sometimes responding without even questioning who he was speaking to. It was baby steps, but to Jake, it was everything.

Was it awkward? Yes. The way his glasses got in the way when he finally kissed you for the first time. Your noses bumped together. Too much tongue involved. It was a mess. Still life-changing, nevertheless. 

He replays the memory often. The two of you on your bed, him holding your plushie hostage, you trying to rip it out of his arms. The way you fell on top of him with your lips accidentally crashing on his. He pretended like the make-out session that occurred immediately after didn't absolutely ruin him.

Jake edged past the warmer parts of you when no one was around to bear witness. And you both were so good at keeping secrets. No one would have believed it anyway. You’d made sure of that.

–

“You two are very strange,” Jay commented, maybe a couple of months into your secret relationship. Every senior was gearing up for graduation, choosing which universities to attend or which path to take in life.

And of course, Jay and Sunghoon found out that Jake and you would both be attending the same university. Not just any school. A top one. Yonsei. 

Jake had earned a full-ride scholarship after finally getting off the damn bench and scoring four goals in a single match against the best high school team in the nation. Jake could've gone abroad to an Ivy League, but he chose not to. Because at Yonsei he could visit family more often, save a lot of money, and… well, keep you close, most of all.

And by the will of a higher being (Jake’s relentless tutoring), you somehow made it in as well.

“I thought you said you wanted to go straight into the workforce,” Jay questioned you. “Now you’re telling me you somehow, in some way, got into the same school as Jake? This fucking nerd?”

Sunghoon chimed in with a smile he always wore before teasing you. “I didn’t even think you could get into college, honestly.”

You wanted to hit him so bad, but you stopped yourself. Your resolution for the new school year was to turn over a new leaf. And that comes with not hitting annoying boys over the head with your fist. You could get arrested for that from now on... So instead, you used your words.

“You’re mad I got in, and you didn’t,” you snorted, sticking out your tongue as Jake snickered beside you. You sat close enough to feel the warmth of his shoulder, but far enough apart to keep Jay and Sunghoon from noticing.

“You guys have no faith in her,” Jake sighed earnestly. “She’s really smart when she applies herself. She just needed a push, that's all.”

You glared at him, not sure if his comment was entirely a compliment. Yes, he played a role in your achievements. No, he could not credit himself for the hard work you put in to get that high-ass score on the college entrance exam. Even your teachers apologized for doubting you.

“Should’ve put those hours of tutoring her into me instead,” Jay groaned. “Now you’re gonna be all alone with no friends.”

Jake’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean? S-she’s my friend.”

He stumbled over the words, clearly thrown off by the ominous comment. You watched him, amused. God, he was so obvious.

Sunghoon just looked between you two, doubt etched all over his face. “Barely,” he scoffed. “Trust me, bro, you are getting left behind as soon as she finds another victim willing to pay for all her food.”

You can start your resolution next week. This time, you really smacked him, sharp on his bicep. Sunghoon yelped.

“Why are you always so aggressive?” he whined, rubbing the sore spot with his arm. You raised your hand threateningly again, but you stopped yourself short. 

At the corner of your eye was Jake’s soured expression, a flash of worry obviously overcoming him. But you couldn’t comfort him. Not now. You wouldn’t hear the end of it from these two.

“You never know,” Jay chirped, faking thoughtfulness with a hand on his chin. “Jake might be too cool for us once school starts.”

Jay and Sunghoon exchanged a look and then burst into laughter.

“Ain’t gonna happen!” Sunghoon cackled, putting his whole gut into it. You joined in hesitantly, though your eyes kept drifting to your sullen boyfriend. And he wasn’t amused. Not at all.

Because he never found it funny, the idea of you leaving him behind.

–

“Do you think I’m weird?” Jake asked one evening, with you curled up beside him on your bed. Your knee draped over his stomach, his glasses pushed up just enough to rest comfortably against your pillow. On his late-night visits, your parents would come in to check if you two were truly studying as you claimed. After Jake gained their trust, they learned to leave the two of you alone (when they probably shouldn’t have).

Your eyes were shut tight to prepare yourself for an oncoming nap.

“Yes,” you said quickly, not even giving him time to process the response.

“Like… bad weird?” he asked after a second. He’d been thinking lately, after the conversation with his friends, how different the two of you really were.

How easy it was for you to stand up for yourself. Go against the grain. How you don’t automatically default to nods as he does or lose your train of thought mid-conversation. How you hated being touched by most people but would smack someone’s shoulder when you genuinely found something funny. 

He wanted that, wanted to see the world the way you saw it. To move around without hesitation. Even when people called you a troublemaker. Even when teachers scolded you for wearing your uniform skirt shorter than the dress code. How was confidence so natural for you?

“Bad weird,” you teased, eyes still closed. “But it’s okay. I’m used to it by now.”

A small ache tugged at his heart. “You still like me though, right?”

You laughed. Jake loved to do this sometimes. Bait for reassurance. But you’re not that kind of fish.

“Who said I ever did?”

You said it jokingly, but a silence followed. You don’t quite catch it as you drift to sleep, the way Jake’s eyes dimmed.

“Oh,” he said disappointingly, staring at the ceiling.

Sometimes, he wondered if the reason you wanted your relationship to be private in the first place was because of him. If his inability to relate to your friends with secret tattoos and chains on their jeans made you embarrassed to be his girlfriend. 

Because you got along well with his friends just fine, could tease Jay and Sunghoon like you’d known them your whole life. But it was so hard for him to do the same with yours. To look natural when he joined that one karaoke hangout, where they looked at him expectantly because you had bragged that he could sing well.

You said it so proudly too, and he wanted to prove himself to them. That he was worthy to be in their presence. And then his voice had to crack.

“Should we get your friend some water?” someone joked, and the whole group laughed. With his cheeks red with embarrassment, Jake sat back down next to you, silent for the rest of the night. It was lame of him. Even he knew that. 

But even as he watched you defend him with all your heart, he couldn’t find himself to cheer up. Because in your world, he had always felt out of place. 

–

And so Jake did what he’s known to do best. Research.

He avoided WikiHow tutorials on how to ask out a girl and headed straight to the most honest part of the internet: Reddit.

‘makeover tips for guys’

‘how to gain more confidence’

‘how to be attractive enough that your girlfriend isn’t ashamed of you (serious responses only pls)’

He frequented the self-help section of the school library, took notes on everything from fashion advice to fixing his posture. He practiced eye contact with himself through the mirror until they watered, joined Sunghoon in the gym, and copied his weirdly intense routine.

Jake kept this process all to himself, much like your relationship. He learned to be good at that. Keeping secrets.

He would reinvent himself for university. Become someone you’d be proud to show off because he didn’t want to feel like this anymore. Like he would fall behind. And knowing you… he wasn’t sure if you’d bother to look back and see if your loyal puppy was still there trailing behind you. 

–

present. 

So that’s how your relationship’s been going so far. While Jake was on this great journey to undergo metamorphosis, there were no real complaints on your side.

So why was it like this now? 

Waiting for your very late boyfriend, who was making you miss the first minutes of the university’s freshman orientation ceremony. You almost text him a paragraph about how, usually, you're the unpunctual one in the relationship, but a stranger approaches you.

“BOO!” 

You almost let out a scream when you notice who it is. Or who you think it is. Is it who you think it is?

Because instead of wild, unruly hair hiding his eyebrows and big black frames resting on his nose bridge, your boyfriend looked like someone else entirely. His hair was styled in a middle part, framing his handsome features perfectly. Instead of his usual oversized hoodie with holes on the sleeves masking his athletic body, he’s wearing a varsity jacket and a simple white shirt that clung way too well to his muscular frame. You could even see the faint outline of contact lenses in the whites of his eyes.

Your eyelashes flutter in confusion. You literally just saw him yesterday. When did he find the time to get a haircut and invest in a new closet?

Jake steps forward with a small, hopeful smile and holds out a box of egg tarts. Did it add to his already late ETA? Yes, but he always thinks about you and what you'd like to eat. Could you blame him for getting you a sweet treat?

But that wasn’t the part you were really focused on.

“Who are you and what did you do to Jake?” you ask, fists raised like a boxer. He chuckles nervously, bringing the pastry box back to his side.

“Do I look weird?” he asks quietly, shifting his feet. The vulnerability in his voice made you lower your hands instantly.

“So…” you start, eyes looking him up and down. “This is on purpose? Like, Sunghoon didn’t put you up to this? Or Jay?”

He pouts. His mom practically screamed, “So handsome!” when he showed her his new look over video call. So, why was your reaction like this? 

“I just thought… new school year, new me! No?” he says, puffing up with pride.

You shake your head, moving your hand on instinct to ruffle his freshly styled hair. But he catches your wrist before you can touch him. You pull away, heart squeezing a bit, knowing that he dodged one of your rare bouts of affection. Or whatever you call it.

“It took me forever to get my hair to look like this,” he mutters, looking away. “Don’t want my hard work to go to waste.”

You click your tongue, trudging past him. Since when did he care about what his hair looked like? This was the same guy who showed up to graduation with a T-shirt and sneakers and got confused when the teachers asked him to go back home and change.

“Whatever,” you sigh. “No more standing around. We have to go—”

“Still not wearing the ring?” he asks, catching up to you. He noticed it earlier when he caught your arm. 

When Jake gave it to you just a year before, he set no expectation for you to wear it. He really hadn’t… But it has been a year. Wasn’t it about time? He wears his everyday…

You suck in your teeth and glare at him. “Why would I?” 

He flinches. And you start to feel guilt bubbling in your chest as his steps start slowing next to you.

“It’s just…” he mumbles. “It’s not like we’re in high school anymore. No one’s even gonna notice. And no one’s gonna care if we’re dating.”

You roll your eyes. You care. You still had a reputation to uphold. Maybe not as a troublemaker anymore. But still. Something about wearing your boyfriend’s ring for everyone to see and question seemed like your own personal hell. Who would want to be the center of attention as a university freshman?

“It’s the principle,” you say, not really knowing what you mean by it either. Because you are wearing it. Just not on your finger. It hangs around your neck, hidden underneath your blouse. But Jake didn’t have to know that.

You would rather die than give anyone the satisfaction of knowing you were smitten with this man. Soft, but only for him. Your biggest weakness.

“So are we always just gonna be a secret?” he sighs. You turn to face him, but you keep it pushing. It’s too much to explain right now. Or ever.

“Come on,” you insist. “We need to get to the orientation.”

–

Indeed, it wasn’t high school anymore. Because everywhere you turn, Jake’s name is being brought up.

“The hot guy on the football team—”

“He set the curve on the first exam and proved Professor Kim wrong on the board—”

“I saw him help a grandma cross the street. Soooo dreamy—”

It was enough to almost make you pull your hair out of your head. This was Jake they were talking about! The guy who was too shy to ask for no pickles in his damn burgers, who used to let Sunghoon copy off his homework and then rewrote his own just to make sure the teachers wouldn’t catch on. This was your Jake.

You take a moment to breathe.

You sound crazy. Deranged, even. It shouldn’t even matter. Jake was always good-looking! People just never noticed or took the time to appreciate him outside of his ability to decode the most difficult of physics equations.

“A couple of guys from the team think I’d look good with a sweatband,” he says, showing you a photo during a late-night walk. He’s shoving his phone screen to your face, and you pout at the sight. His hair pushed back, forehead glistening. A perfect view of his beautiful, dark eyes. 

“Nah,” you say dismissively, trying to push down the fluttering in your heart. He tilts his head, staring at the photo once more.

“Really?” he mutters. “I thought it looked pretty good.”

“Do you really wanna look like Jay in junior year? He’s gonna tell you that you copied him.”

He gives a small sound of acknowledgement. You could tell he’s taking your comment seriously, like you said something truly eye-opening.

“You’re right,” he nods. “Then, how do you feel about a lip piercing?”

Your brows furrow at the thought of metal against his pouty lips. The way his teeth would tug on it. The effect he would have on all of his newfound admirers…

“Absolutely not!” 

Yeah, you were losing it.

–

No, really, you might actually be going insane.

It was hard enough for you to create genuine friendships at Yonsei, full of stuck-up rich kids who only managed to get in through elite cram schools and expensive tutors. But after a few polite conversations, their masks fell to show their true intentions. You know now that you are being used as a shortcut to get on Jake’s radar. 

Because why do people you’ve never met before suddenly feel comfortable enough to ask you to introduce them to him? Why do they request to follow you on Instagram only so they can find his account more easily? And what pisses you off most—the question they always ask, without fail: “Is he single?”

And you know there's a quick answer you can give. A very simple solution to your eye-twitching problem. Because every time someone high-fives him in the corridors or bats their eyelashes flirtatiously in his direction, you have the overwhelming urge to just pounce on him. To wrap your arms around his middle and never let him leave your sight. 

But you can’t. Your pride is too big, your ego too fragile to admit that someone actually managed to slip past the cold exteriors of your heart. So instead, you're waiting impatiently for him to reply to your text.

He's not at practice. He's supposed to be on his way. So where the hell was he?

jake: sorry! study group went for a lil bit longer than I thought. everyone kept asking me for help haha. omw!

And then he sends a photo. It's a group selfie, with him in the middle. Three girls on his right and another two on his left, surrounding him like a piece of meat.

you: dont bother coming. im sick.

With envy, maybe. But you're perfectly healthy.

jake: im sorry babe :( you feeling okay? want me to get you anything from the store?

you: Nah.

You almost scream. There's so much you want to say and admit, but your fingers won’t type any of it. You really don't deserve him. He's so nice, and you're so… Fuck.

Why is it so hard to admit to your own boyfriend that you miss him?!

jake: ok :( I love you!

Your stomach flips.

Haha… You needed professional help. Really.

–

Jake was better at football than the bench in high school ever suggested. Senior hierarchy was everything at Yonsei. A starter as a freshman was practically unheard of before Jake. How he managed to level up from being a designated benchwarmer to being on the field at all times felt like whiplash.

Did he just have this in him this whole time?

I mean, you guess he looked kind of cool out there, all sweaty and serious-looking. Shouting call-outs to his team mid-game. Your legs squirm at the sight. He really needs to put on his damn glasses. (Though knowing you, that might only make things worse.)

You sit there, wearing the university colors of white and blue, holding onto a sign that says “Go Team!”

You would have made something with his name on it, but the thought alone sends shivers down your spine. You could not bear to give the stupid boys beside you the ammo of watching you scream Jake’s name and go crazy over his goals. So instead, you silently watch and admire as he steals the ball yet again.

Jay and Sunghoon, decked out in the rival school’s signature red for no reason whatsoever (they don’t even attend that university either), stood on either side of you with a level of passion you’ve never seen from them before.

“GET HIS ASS!” Jay screams. “Play the mental game! When Player 15 cries, he calls his mom first—”

Player 15 would happen to be Jake.

“The guy with ‘Sim’ in the back of his jersey loves to sing Celine Dion in the shower—”

You groan as heads turn, not enjoying the various glares and snide remarks from your surrounding schoolmates. You still haven't made any substantial friends yet at university. Being associated with these bozos would only make it that much harder. This would be the last time you sneak them into the student section. 

“Can you two please sit down?” you mutter. “We’re ahead by like four goals. Psychological warfare is not enough for Jake to lose.”

Sunghoon drops back into his seat with a huff, cracking his neck.

“This won’t do,” he mutters. “Jake’s gonna surpass me in Instagram followers if he wins this.”

Jay chuckles on your left side, still standing and selfishly blocking the view of everyone behind him. “If he wins, you think he’ll invite us to their celebration party after?”

Your brows furrow. “What party?”

Jay finally sits down when the opposing team calls a time-out, one eyebrow raised at your confused expression. “Isn’t that like a thing every school does? First big game of the year, there’s bound to be something.”

Sunghoon nods in agreement. “Yeah, that’s like common knowledge.”

You almost pout before catching yourself. Jake never mentioned anything about a party. 

So when the game ended and, of course, Yonsei won, the two boys could not help but ask. 

“So there’s a party, right?”

“And you’re taking us?”

Jake looks between the two of them, forehead glistening and hair damp with sweat.

“What party?” he asks, and you smile gingerly. That’s right! You weren’t crazy. He would’ve told you if there was—

“You have to go to the party, Jakey!” a voice chirps from behind you.

You recognize her. The team manager of the football team. Short hair and a cute button nose. Very pretty. Your eyes cut between Jake and her. Wait.

Jakey? Who the hell calls him that?

Jay and Sunghoon give each other some shifty glances and step aside, letting the girl join the conversation. You feel this weird inclination to move closer to Jake, but you suppress the urge. 

“Hm?” Jake finally replies, confused more than ever. “No one told me about a party.”

The girl giggles. What even was her name?

“Oh, Jakey! Since you’re a freshman, I’ll give you the rundown.” 

She scooches in between you two, pushing you slightly to the side. The boys don’t seem to notice, and you have half your sense not to shove the girl right back.

“Whenever we win,” she starts, “the whole school goes to En Bar nearby and takes it over! Free drinks and everything. You’re our star player, so you definitely can’t miss it. Your friends are invited too, of course.”

She looks between Jay and Sunghoon, not even sparing you a glance.

Jake scratches the nape of his neck. “Sorry, I’m actually feeling pretty tired—” 

“We’ll be there!” Jay and Sunghoon say instantly. You raise your eyebrow at them, and the two brush it off.

“We’ll make sure he comes,” Jay laughs, slapping Jake hard on the shoulder. Having gotten hit by the ball in that exact spot just an hour before, he winces.

“I’m not really—”

“Great!” the girl smiles, clapping her hands together. “I’ll see you all there then?” 

Of course, her back is fully turned towards you. Dumb and dumber nod in unison, and as the girl walks off, they push at each other excitedly.

“First college party,” they cry out in joy.

“Oh my god,” you mutter. “You two are pathetic.”

Jake nods slowly in agreement. “Well… you guys have fun. I think I’m just gonna head back to my dorm and shower…”

“And get ready, right?” Sunghoon says dangerously, wagging a finger at him. “Because you are coming, right?”

Jake shivers under his friends’ threatening glares. But what really scares him is when his eyes find yours. You look pissed. Fuck. What did he do this time?

“I mean… I guess I could pop in…” Jake says reluctantly. He sneaks in another glance in your direction and sees that your frown grows even deeper. Was that the wrong thing to say?

–

“Babe?” Jake calls after you as you stride across campus, shivering in your t-shirt and mini skirt. “Why are you walking so fast?”

It’s dark now, save for the dim street lamps. You stop abruptly, and he almost bumps into you. When you turn, your jaw is already clenched.

“Am I crazy, or did that girl just completely ignore me?” you ask genuinely, voice at the seams of losing composure. Because what the fuck was her problem?

Jake laughs nervously. “Choa? I thought she seemed pretty friendly?”

Your expression sours. “Yeah, maybe a little too friendly,” you say under your breath. Jake catches it.

“Wait,” he says with a shit-eating grin, leaning in. “Babe… are you jealous? Hm?”

Your cheeks heat up, arms crossing like a toddler. “Fuck off.”

He laughs now, twisting you around and guiding you forward with an arm around your shoulder. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, babeeee…”

He notices how you don’t pull away from his touch, when normally you would hiss something like, “people are watching,” or something like that. Jake bites back an even bigger smile. You just let him hold you.

The walk to his dorm was peachy for him, save for the fact that his sweaty arm stank up your shirt.

You! Jealous. This has to be a dream. When you reach his room, shared with a sophomore named Heeseung who never seems to be around, you sit on Jake’s bed, still reeling from the earlier interaction.

“Am I overreacting?” you ask him, not at all bothered that he was taking his jersey off. You’re well past the stage of pretending his bare torso flusters you. “Like… did it not seem like she wanted you?”

Jake laughs, wiping his underarms with a nearby towel. “Me? Babe, no. That’s out of the question. She's like four years older than us—”

You roll your eyes. “So where the fuck did ‘Jakey’ come from?”

He shrugs, catching his reflection in the wall mirror hanging on his door. His muscles flex in a way that makes your eyes travel down his well-toned back…

You snap your gaze back to the wall. No. Focus. You’re supposed to be mad.

“New year, new nickname?” he offers, teasingly.

You throw a pillow at his head. Like the athlete he is, Jake dodges it. He turns to you, laughing, amused by how sulky and adorable you look on his bed. Brows furrowed in contemplation, tugging your legs close to your chest. Your plush thighs in your pretty little skirt that would have gotten you dress-coded back in high school with your knee-high socks and…

Fuck. 

“It’s not like I care,” you mumble, unconvincingly. 

Jake huffs out something that sounds like a chuckle, but his thoughts are elsewhere. His mind (and eyes) are on the edge of your skirt. He places a hand on your thigh and rubs it softly. To you, it felt like reassurance, and it was. But he was also incredibly horny.

“Babe,” his words drawl. “Look at me.”

Your eyes meet his for a split second before he plants a wet kiss on your cheek. “Hey—”

He chuckles as he plants another on your nose. Then your chin. And then your other cheek. And now you’re trying to push him away, but he holds your wrists to prevent you from stopping his incessant attacks. 

“Jake—You stink—Freak!” You try to say as his lips find yours, while he’s giggling up a storm. So cute. You're so fucking cute. 

His next kiss is deep, drawing out your breath sharply. Your back is on the bed now with Jake on top, his hands still wrapped around your wrists.

Jake’s lips move against yours, your eyes fluttering shut. His tongue prods and pushes in, his taste so sweet and heavy as you breathe in his weirdly intoxicating scent. Like fresh laundry doused in the salt of his sweat. You clench his biceps as he comes up from the kiss to catch some air.

He looks at you, face flushed and mouth parted. 

“I’m hard,” he blurts out, and you smack him on his naked chest.

“What do you want me to do about that?” you mutter as you start to feel him press against your stomach. “Don’t you have a party to go to?”

He shakes his head, burying his face in your hair. He lets out a groan, grinding onto you just to feel any part of you against his football shorts. You let out a squeak, clenching at his toned muscles harder.

“You’re not coming with?” he asks, and you can hear the shakiness in his breath. You smirk, wrapping your legs around him and shifting up so that his tent could meet your core. Jake fit between you so snugly.

His head lifts to meet yours, pupils already so dilated.

“Why would I?” you say through hooded eyes, and you could visibly see him gulp. It almost makes you laugh. But instead, you tease him, moving your hips up to graze his bulge. 

“I have time,” he groans quickly. “For this. Or whatever you want to do. Like I’m really down for any—”

You roll your eyes, gripping the back of his head to smash him back down to your lips. Your movements are messy, tongues clashing at a feverish pace. He’s still sore from earlier, but like hell he would let this opportunity go. Not when you looked this fucking good. And angry too. (For him, these things aren’t mutually exclusive...)

With trembling fingers, he lifts your shirt and almost moans at the sight of your bare skin. While he wants to thank you for saving him the trouble of not fiddling with a bra clasp, you pat yourself on the back for leaving your necklace at home.

Knowing how frisky Jake gets after the adrenaline of a good win runs through him, it was the right call. You don’t think you could handle Jake seeing you so jealous while having his ring resting on your chest. Yeah, you’d probably die right in front of him.

His hands grab your tits softly, massaging them between his fingers. Jake dips down, swallowing a nipple in his mouth as he watches you sigh out in pleasure.

He’s confident in one thing when it comes to you, and it was this right here. He could make your tough exterior melt just as long as you were under him. Or over him. He has no preference.

His tongue circles your bud, tugging with his teeth lightly. 

“Jake—” When he hears you squeak, his dick twitches with anticipation. So pliant now. What happened to that dominance earlier? He’d like to see it come back…

He moves on to the other breast, licking and massaging so it doesn't feel too neglected. Jake loves your tits, could be buried between them for the rest of his life if you let him. But now isn't the time! He has a very mean and very jealous, but also very hot, girlfriend to please. And maybe some party to make it to, who knows.

Jake pulls his shorts down roughly, just enough so that he can take his dick out. Already so big, the bulbous tip weeps with desire for you. He’s palming himself, relishing in how your eyes shut tight, lips parted open as his wet, pink muscle traces circles over your sensitive skin.

He’s nipping the top of your breasts now, careful not to leave marks in visible areas. Jake knows how you get about that sort of thing. 

His fingers drag your white, damp panties off your legs, but keeps your skirt on. And the knee-high socks for good measure. His hand meets your core, pushing down on your clit with a heavy pressure he knows you like.

You gasp, covering your eyes with your forearm. You’re so embarrassed. The noises you're making are unbecoming of you. All he does is laugh. Still so sensitive during sex after a whole year of dating. And he’s supposed to be the shy one.

His fingers drag slowly on your folds as he spreads your juices all over his digits. Jake might just cum in his pants with how soft your tits feel as he nestles his head in between them. 

He pushes two fingers in right away, and you draw out a sharp breath. You almost hit him on the shoulder. He has no idea how big his hands are. How sometimes you would eye them whenever he helps you with homework. Veiny, like his cock.

He’s moving his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace, wet squelches echoing through the room. 

“Ngh—Mmm—” you groan, arching your back to meet his movements. Impatient. You’re always so impatient.

“JAKE!” you cry out, when he rubs over a certain spot.

He looks up at you from his comfortable position between the valley of your chest, and with a teasing glint in his eyes, he says, “You mean Jakey?”

And it’s not an exaggeration in the least to say that you start seeing red. You grab his wrist, the pads of your fingers digging into his flesh. He stops his movements, looking at you with those puppy-dog eyes like he did something wrong. And he did. Something very. Very. Wrong.

“Sorry, I just wanted to tease—”

You pull his fingers out of you. With one swift movement, you grab him by his shoulders and push him down onto the bed. You’re hovering over him now, eyes dark.

Jake swallows nervously. Why’d you have to look so hot when provoked?

“Did I ruin the vibe or…”

“Shut up,” you growl, crashing your lips onto his. He tries to hold your waist to offer support, but you hold his wrists down onto the sheets. He could probably push you off very easily. But he doesn’t. Because he loves seeing you like this. Loves the urgency in your touch.

You want him! And you’re showing it! His heart is practically doing backflips in his chest.

Your tongue explores the inside of Jake’s mouth, licking the roof of it in a way that has him seeing stars. You’re so rough with it. Sucking on his, biting his lip, moving so desperately against him.

“Babe—” he tries to say in between your assaults on his mouth. But it comes out in a breathless whisper when he feels you grinding your slick pussy against him.

“I said,” you say through gritted teeth. “Shut. Up.”

He almost moans when his leaking tip hits your clit. Just the contact alone has the back of his head hitting the pillow roughly. But he forces himself to watch as you move against him as he offers no assistance. Your grip on his wrists moves to the sheets as you focus on grinding against his dick. Swiveling yourself on him back and forth. Rubbing and rubbing. But it’s not enough. He needs to be inside. Needs to feel you right now.

Your breath is on his neck now, riling yourself up at his stunt. Jakey? What grown woman calls someone that? Choa and her nice ass bob... Fuck her!

“Ngh—” he lets out as you suction an erogenous zone on his neck, sucking and biting him like a vampire. Your tongue lapping at his skin to soothe him from the brutal assaults of your teeth. You close your eyes to relish in his taste. So salty from sweat, but still so sweet. But you’re distracted now as Jake breaks free from your hold. He grips your ass with one hand, the other guiding his pulsing member to your slippery entrance.

“Wha—” 

He’s looking at you with pleading eyes. “Can I, baby?” Jake begs, cheeks tinged pink. “Please?”

You bite back a smile. What a fucking loser.

You push down on him, just slightly, just enough for his bulbous tip to slip inside. His grip on your ass is now slack. He doesn't even want to fight back, really.

“Fuck—” Jake’s mouth parts open, watching you with heavy-lidded eyes when you come back up. No longer inside you, he groans.

“Whyyy,” he whines. “I said I’m sorry—”

He inhales a sharp breath when you engulf his tip again, tightening around him just a little harder. 

“Do you like being called Jakey?” you question darkly. “Like it when other girls feel up on you?”

He shakes his head desperately. “No—Only you—” he says through pained groans.

And then you lift again, laughing at his pathetic form. “I don’t believe you.”

He’s practically writhing underneath you now, his mushroom tip pulsing against your folds. Your skirt hides it all from view, and he just wishes he could rip it off you. Give you a new one, much, much shorter, so he can see everything better. 

But only if you let him.

“You’re literally torturing me,” he whimpers, hips jutting up messily. He keeps missing your entrance, the one he desperately needs to be buried in. “Need to feel you right now—”

“What’s it to me?” you ask meanly, your thumb prodding at his bottom lip. His tongue comes out to lick at the pad of your thumb, sucking it ever-so-slightly. You enjoy this view. Him underneath you. Pleading. Whining. Like he's starving. 

“I’ll make you feel so good, baby,” Jake offers through the haziness of his lust. Not entirely conscious of how desperate he sounds. “You can use me however you want. I’ll literally do anything. Just please—”

And then you sink, so slowly that his eyes roll to the back of his head. The devil. His girlfriend is the devil.

“Babe—” You shut him up with another open-mouthed kiss. Messy, just how he likes it.

He grips his hands into yours as you suckle his tongue, intertwining your fingers together. You try not to wince as you sheath him fully, realizing now that you were overconfident in taking control before he could properly prep you.

Usually, sex was an hours-long ordeal with Jake. He likes to finger you, then eat you out, then repeat, until he can slip into your slick warmth with little issue. Sex is the only time you don’t deny him the pleasure of seeing you flustered over him. Over what he could do for you. What he could provide you if you let him tell everyone in the world that he’s yours. 

Regardless, Jake will always be long and thick, and he still stretches you out so deliciously. Your mouths clash against each other, swallowing back both of your moans as saliva pools at the sides of his bruised lips.

Depraved. That’s all you could think of when Jake bottoms out inside you. He’s so sweaty now, the scent so musky that it drives you insane. Do other girls smell these pheromones when he’s around? Or is this just you and your hypersensitivity to everything that involves him?

You’re moving up and down now, with shallow thrusts that do little to satiate the flame in your stomach. You don’t do this enough—take control enough. Your knees are already weak, wobbling, as you grind down on him.

But you push through it as you continue to impale yourself on his cock, gummy walls clenching him tightly with each thrust. You want to get him off like this, even if your whole body is trembling above him. 

And it’s not like Jake doesn’t notice. But like the little shit he is, he doesn’t feel like helping. Because he enjoys the feeling too much, of your breasts bouncing filthily against his chest. When you lift yourself from his lips so that you can focus on riding him, he finds it so endearing. How you put your hands on his abdomen to steady yourself, how you fuck yourself on his length. How much you struggle to take all of him in. Not sure what to do with yourself.

‘My poor baby,’ Jake thinks, chuckling at how tight your eyes shut just to feel him better. 

“Need help?” he hums, his hand drawing circles on your hip. You shake your head, teeth gritted.

“N-no,” you try to muster out, but it’s unconvincing. Your movements are stuttering, moans slipping out of your mouth too easily. He smirks. His little pillow princess. 

Jake, with his grip on your hips, pulls you down onto his cock. Hard. You gasp as his hips snap up with it.

“Ah—” you cry out, your nails now digging into his shoulder blades. He pounds into a spot that had you almost come undone at that very moment. How did he get so good at this?

Jake lifts you, all the way until his pink tip is the only thing in your wet pussy. Then, as harshly as he could, he pushes you down on him, his thickness grazing at your deepest parts. And he does this again and again until you collapse onto his chest from the roughness of his thrusts.

“I’m gonna—Ngh—Fuck—You—” you try to say through your moans, try to sound angry. But you love it. Love how tight he grabs your bum. Love the slight stretch of pain as he stuffs you full of him. Love that trickle of spit that falls out of his mouth as his back lifts off the bed to feel you better. Ugh, you hate him.

“JAKE—”

“Shhh, baby, ” he whispers, forcing your face into the crook of his neck. “Just take it.”

Jake plunges up into you, propelling your hips down with his harsh grip. He lifts a heavy hand, smacking your ass from behind as you try to match his timing. You scream. He does it again, massaging the tender spot. The pain mixes with the pleasure, as tears prick the corner of your eyes. You feel your climax building now as your lips find his neck again, sucking and biting. Marking him. Let everyone know that he’s yours. That you own him.

“Babe…” he whines, too lost in the suctioning of your tightness to really care. Because he’s close too. So fucking close. 

Jake’s arms move up to your back, caging you into a bear-like embrace. His feet plant themselves on the bed, as his dick shoves into you with newfound energy. He’s going so fast, you could practically hear the speed. Feel it too. The wet squelches of his balls slapping against your ass. You move with him, trying to sync your rhythm to his.

“Mmm—Ahh—” your moans jumble into each other. Your legs are trembling, even more than they were before. A searing feeling within you continues to build and build. A single, full thrust from him has you biting into his neck brutally, stifling your moans as your orgasm crashes through you in waves. 

“Shit—” he cries out, from both the pain of your teeth and the pleasure of your cunt's constricting grip. You grind down on him, whimpering into his skin, back arched to ease yourself through the sensitivity.

Jake’s dick twitches in you once, then twice. He pushes you off of him and onto the bed, harsher than he intended. But he doesn’t have a condom on, and... he likes the way you look in white.

He hovers over you now, his painfully hard length in his hand. He’s stroking himself with urgency, fist wrapped around himself with a panicked grip. He’s watching you intently as you splay out underneath him. So fucking pretty for him. Lips bruised and bitten so sensually. Legs opened with your juices glistening on the inside of your thighs. Maybe he should stuff his cock into your—

“Fuck—” he groans, mouth parting at the sight of his thick ropes of cum spurt out of him, coating your stomach and tits. He strokes slowly, pumping all that he’s worth onto your body. You welcome it, eyes drinking in his flushed demeanor.

“I love you,” Jake mutters as he comes down from his high. And you don’t say anything back, distracted as your fingers coat themselves on the sticky fluids on your skin. Such a mess, both of you.

You hear it then. Intense vibrations on his nightstand. Jake’s phone, very much neglected, is blowing up with texts and calls. Was it going off like that the whole time? Then his eyes go wide like saucers.

“Shit! The party—” 

Your eyes narrow. Before he can pick it up, you grab the nape of his neck to pull him down into another sloppy kiss. Your legs wrap around Jake once more, smirking as you feel him melt into you with little resistance.

“What party?”

–

morning after.

“You’re a bitchhhh,” Sunghoon cries out, over a FaceTime call that Jake was forced to pick up at nine in the morning. You were already gone by then, running late to your morning lecture. 

Heeseung, thankfully, still hadn’t returned to the dorm. Or else you wouldn’t have been able to stay over and let Jake devour you a few more times, but that’s besides the point. He starts humming happily to himself with the memories of last night still fresh in his mind.

“They wouldn’t even let me into the bar because I was wearing the wrong colors,” his friend continues to complain.

“I get it, I get it,” Jake replies, only half-listening. He’s fixing his outfit in the mirror, admiring how well a polo shirt fits him. It’s weird. He’s getting used to not looking like a dweeb all the time, just a few weeks into his big transformation, even with his glasses on right now.

“Yo, do you think these pants look better with a belt or nah?” he asks, not really sparing Sunghoon a glance. He adjusts his shirt’s collar slightly until—

“WHAT THE FUCK—”

Jake jumps, phone nearly dropping from the desk he sat it on.

“WHAT IS THAT?!”

“What? What?!” Jake snaps his head to look behind himself, like Sunghoon might have seen a ghost.

“Did you get eaten by a fucking lion?!” Sunghoon gawks. Jake’s cheeks turned a bright shade of red.

Damn, he forgot.

“W-what are you talking about?” he mutters unconvincingly, slowly coming out of frame. He strips the polo off in a panic, digging through his closet until he finds a turtleneck. It’s autumn anyway. This is fine, right?

“Our friendship is done,” Sunghoon deadpans at the camera. “You got fucking laid and didn’t tell me?! I mean, I understand Jay, he’d make it weird. BUT NOT EVEN ME?!”

Jake shakes his head, tugging the turtleneck on. He tries to roll up his sleeves to look more casual, but now he looks like Steve Jobs. Shit. He should put his contacts on.

“So who is it?!” Sunghoon presses. “Who’s the unlucky girl?” 

 When Jake doesn’t reply, Sunghoon gasps.

“Unlucky guy?!”

“Man, shut up!” Jake cries, snatching his phone off the desk and coming back into frame. “Please don’t tell Jay.”

–

“Okay, so he told Jay,” he blurts, shielding himself with his arm like you’re about to hit him. “Please don’t get mad at me.”

You almost asked why he was wearing a turtleneck in relatively warm weather when he tugged the collar down to show his neck. Absolutely purple and bruised. And yes. Maybe a dark, suppressed part of you jumped with glee. But the more rational part started cursing yourself out.

“I can’t believe you’d video call him the morning after,” you groan, massaging your temple with your fingers. “Ugh, I’m so stupid. What was I even thinking?!”

Jake gives you a sly smile. “I mean, I’m not complaining—”

You shoot him another icy stare, and he stops. 

“W-well, it’s not like they know that it’s you! They probably think it’s someone else…”

You inhale a sharp breath at the thought. Was he gonna tell them the hickeys on his neck were from someone else? Who? Choa?

“Whatever,” you mutter, whipping around as your bag purposely smacked his bicep. You walk off, fists clenched, ignoring Jake’s calls out to you. 

Fucking Choa.

–

A full week has passed since the disaster that was Sunghoon seeing Jake’s bruised neck. Your boyfriend only felt safe enough to see the two idiots once the marks faded, and even then, he was a little disappointed to wake up and see them all gone. 

“So run it through with me again,” Jay requests, leaning over the boiling hot pot broth. The boys sit in a dimly lit restaurant with a stage in the back. 

“Like, you were just walking back to your dorm and boom—you found a rando to hook up with out of nowhere?!” Jay questions, dropping tofu into the soup so aggressively that it splashes Jake’s wrist.

“Why are you making up fantasies in your head about my sex life?” Jake mutters, pushing his glasses up his face. He was too lazy to put his contacts on just to hang out with these two. “I plead the fifth.”

“Bro, I thought you were a virgin this whole time!” Sunghoon adds unhelpfully. “Excuse us for trying to be supportive.”

Jake rolls his eyes, struggling to grab an udon noodle with his chopsticks.

“Wait,” Jay says through the hot pot steam. “Weren’t you walking with [Y/N] that night?”

Jake gulps, throat bobbing as he fiddles with the noodle more to avoid suspicion.

“Right!” Sunghoon snaps his fingers, and for a second, Jake’s life flashes before his eyes. They know. They have to! Fuck, you’re gonna be so mad at him—

“Why don’t we just ask her who it was?”

Jake stares at them and breaks out into a nervous laugh. Never in his life was he happier to have a more idiotic set of childhood friends.

“Please do,” Jake smiles, wondering how you would weasel out of that conversation with them. “She knows her very well…”

A piercing sound of microphone feedback ricochets through the restaurant. The three cover their ears as everyone’s attention turns to the neglected stage.

“Who wants to sing?! It's open mic night!” the restaurant owner booms. When a deafening silence fills the air, Jay lifts Jake’s hand straight into the air without hesitation.

“This guy loves Celine Dion!” he cries out as Jake tries to yank his arm back down. He curses at his friend, but to no avail.

“Okay!” the owner shouts excitedly. “Come on right up, sir!” 

Jay and Sunghoon practically drag Jake up the stage, laughing themselves all the way back to their seats in the far back of the restaurant. Jake stands frozen as dozens of strangers stare at him, his heartbeat thudding in his ears. He takes off his glasses, shoving them in his pocket, and brushes his hair back. He couldn't bear to look at all these blank faces staring at him. Confidence. This is all about confidence.

When ‘My Heart Will Go On' starts echoing through the restaurant walls, Jake’s face flushes all the way red. This is exposure therapy; he tries to cope with himself. If he could do this, he could probably build up the courage to ask you about going public. So that his friends stop thinking he’s a loser. Maybe for you to stop thinking it, too.

He sucks in a deep breath. What’s the difference between this and a showerhead? Nothing. Absolutely nothing!

“Every night in my dreams, I see youuuu… I feel youuu…” he starts slowly, welcomed with a soft gasp from an audience member. Jay and Sunghoon’s laughter dies as Jake sings. Shit. He was actually doing it. And he sounded good, too. Like an angel. Was Jay crying?

Jake loses himself in the slow melody of the song, singing his heart out as he does in every postgame shower. ‘This one’s for you, babe,’ he thinks. Wherever you are… 

When the song ends and Jake’s eyes open, he’s met with a standing ovation. At a damn hot pot restaurant. Jay and Sunghoon are cheering the loudest, holding their hearts like their once-nerdy best friend was their child at a talent show. The owner comes up to the stage, sniffling.

“Give it up for this random kid!”

As Jake makes his way back to the table, he holds his head up high. He couldn’t have imagined doing this a year before, let alone ordering food at a kiosk without stuttering. It’s like taking off his glasses gave him super powers.

“Excuse me—” Jake turns around. A girl with long flowing hair stops him. 

“Are you Jake Sim? The freshman on the football team?” she asks, eyes bright. He nods. Does he know her?

“I’m Suji from the Dance department.” She bows slightly. “Your performance was incredible, by the way!” 

He nods, giving a small “thanks,” before he turns back around.

“Actually!” She calls after him. He stops again. “I just wanted to ask if you were interested in auditioning to be the male lead of our upcoming musical! It’s about a football player who finds passion in singing and dancing. I just thought it would fit you so well!”

Jake turns back to face the stranger. He ponders deeply. A musical? Him? He’d never thought about it before, but what the hell! He guesses he’s the type to try new things now. The power of a good haircut, maybe.

“I’ll think about it,” he says with a polite smile. 

Suji grins back. “Auditions start tomorrow. We’d love to have you.”

By the time Jake finds his way back to his seat, his friends are already geeking.

“You pulled another?!” Jay cries in anguish, biting his fist. “I should have gone up there. That should have been me! Damn it!”

“It’s not fair,” Sunghoon wails, leaning his head dramatically against the wall. “You had no play in high school. Like absolutely zero bitches—”

Jake snorts, scrounging for his glasses once more to slip them back on. “She was just asking me to audition for some musical.”

“I’m sure she was,” Jay says with a smirk. “I’m sure she’s staring straight at your back right now because she wants you in that musical soooo bad.”

Jake shifts in his chair uncomfortably, and sure enough, Suji is watching him. She shoots up her arm to wave. He looks back at his friends with a confused glance.

“Maybe they’re desperate?”

Sunghoon groans. “I’m gonna call [Y/N]. Let’s get her expertise on this.”

“Don’t!” Jake lunges, trying to grab Sunghoon’s phone as he takes it out of his pocket. But then flashes from last night start playing in his head. You above him. Riding him. Gripping his shoulders. Your lips on his neck, marking him until he whined and begged. All at the mere mention of Choa’s weird pet name for him. Jake clears his throat and sits back, not even trying to hide the shit-eating grin spreading across his face.

“...Yeah,” he says more casually. “Ask her.”

–

ma baby: Come over. Now.

Jake receives your text after Sunghoon’s impromptu call, bringing his hands together in a prayer position to the sky. Thank you to whatever higher being was watching over him.

When he reaches your residence hall, you’re waiting outside your door in pajamas, foot tapping impatiently against the carpet. You start glaring at his silhouette even before he comes into view. 

“So,” you start slowly, “you just let anyone talk to you these days?”

Jake’s already giddy. Yes… Be angry with him… Let him in your dorm room and reprimand him, while you’re at it…

“Babeeee,” he teases, his arms already reaching for yours. You dodge him. “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” you reply flatly. “I’m just wondering when you started serenading restaurants and accepting invitations from random girls?”

“Just thought I could finally get some appreciation for my many talents,” he says teasingly, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“Are you saying I don’t appreciate you?” you ask, not at all amused by his playful gaze. “I tell you all the time that you’re smart!”

He chuckles. “Everyone and your mom knows that by now, babe.”

You narrow your eyes. ‘He’s learning how to fight back,’ you think sourly. 

“So you enjoyed that girl's appreciation, then?” you counter, knowing that you were riling yourself up by asking such a loaded question. Jake bites his lip to stifle a smile. There it is. 

He shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says, pushing his glasses up. “I think I might actually consider auditioning!”

And this part is genuine. He’s always enjoyed singing. It could be a cool new experience, especially since he shied away from doing theater back in high school. Maybe now was his moment to shine... But when he notices how your expression darkens, he’s suddenly excited to audition for the musical for a whole different reason.

You look around the hallway, checking to see if anyone's coming by. Then you pull him by the collar and into your dorm room. The door shuts behind you two as you push him to sit on the bed. Jake looks up, eyes bright with pure anticipation as you climb onto his lap.

“What’s up, babe?” he asks, feigning ignorance. And you fall for it. Because your cute, nerdy boyfriend couldn’t possibly have ulterior motives… Right?

“You have class tomorrow?” you ask as you adjust yourself on him, legs encasing both sides of his thighs. His hands find your hips, pulling you closer.

“It depends,” he says, knowing full well he has an 8 a.m. physics lab. “Is your roommate coming back anytime soon?”

Oh yeah. Her. 

“Not tonight,” you mutter, already peppering his neck with small kisses. “She’s visiting her parents.”

Jake smirks, tilting your chin up so your eyes meet his. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip as the wheels are already turning in his head. He fakes a cough.

“You know… I think the musical is actually a romantic comedy.”

–

You’re on your knees, carpet harshly grazing your skin. 

“Fuck,” Jake groans, head thrown back as his hand clutches your hair. He’s pushing you down onto his cock, relishing in the way your cheeks hollow around him. How you take his whole length into your mouth without your usual snappy commentary. Look at you. Underneath him. So eager to please, but so in need of control. He bites his bottom lip at the view. It's addictive.

“Just like that,” Jake encourages, stroking your cheek so lovingly. Your tongue licks the underside of his thickness, careful not to have your teeth graze his sensitive skin. He’s so flushed above you, a darkness blooming in your heart. The sight of his glasses pushed so low on his nose bridge. So focused, so desperate for release.

‘My Jake,’ you think to yourself. ‘All mine.’

You bob your head up and down, your mouth plunging down to the base of his member with the help of his tight grasp on your hair.

“Y-yes,” he sighs, his hips coming up to meet your lips. Jake’s gaze never leaves yours, unable to tear his eyes from the tears forming in your eyes from just how much he fills you up. You always had something to say. Always rolling your eyes at him. Now, your eyes were rolling back for a different reason.

His mouth falls open. “F-fuck—” 

You smirk as his hips start to lose rhythm. You remember the first time you gave him head. Just like this, knees on the floor of his room back home, with his parents watching TV downstairs. Glasses perched and foggy. He came within seconds. You were proud, just a little, that he was able to last this long now.

“B-babe?” he tries to cry out. “I’m close—”

You pull away from him with a pop of your lips, teasing the slit of his tip with the flat of your tongue. He groans in frustration, but his hands don’t push you down to take him in again.

“Already?” you say, eyes batting up at him. “Why should I give you the satisfaction?” 

He whines, his grip on your hair tightening just a little. 

“Please?” he asks, not really sure what you want from him. It’s not like he asked you to just fuck him with your mouth! That was all your doing. Okay, yes, maybe he did provoke you. But did that mean he didn’t deserve to orgasm?!

You’re pumping him slowly with your right hand, gripping tightly and stroking enough so that he’s still edging close to his climax. But not close enough to actually reach it.

“I thought I was supposed to be showing you appreciation,” you say pointedly. “Take my time with you and all that.”

He shakes his head ferociously, his hips snapping up into your fist. 

“Babe—Please—I’m so—” he groans when he feels you slow your pace again. 

“So what?” you ask, feigning naivety. You really are the devil.

He shakes his head. He can’t speak. Can’t even think. Just frustrated with how your lips aren’t wrapped around his fucking dick anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he cries. “I’ll do anything, baby. Please—Just stop teasing—Please—”

His sobs are music to your ears. Your wrist’s pace on him quickens, as your mouth engulfs his swollen tip. Your tongue circles the head, pumping him up and down with all your strength and might. Jake’s hands are clutching the sheets, hips pistoning up into your sticky fingers. He feels his load threatening to spill over. 

“Fuck—Yes, baby—There—” He pulls your head back, hand encasing yours, pumping ferociously with you. Your mouth is wide open, tongue sticking out, eyes looking directly up at his. An invitation.

Spurts of his hot, white release coat your pink tongue. He unloads everything within him all over your features. Your cheeks. Your chin. Your cute ass nose. All covered in his milky cum. His mouth parts at the sight. So pretty. His girlfriend is so fucking pretty.

“I love you,” he whispers, as he wipes dribbles of his liquid off your chin with his thumb. “I love you so fucking much…”

You hum back in approval as he lifts you back up and onto his lap. Your face, still stained with his orgasm, comes up to kiss him. He grimaces slightly. You taste infinitely better than he does. He’s almost thankful you part ways with his lips so that you could pepper kisses down his neck.

And when you start sucking and nipping in the same way you did that game night, he smiles. His arms wrap around your waist as you suction his pulse point.

‘I could get used to this,’ Jake thinks.

–

The audition the next day went surprisingly easily. He truly was the only one trying out for the main role, while Suji was already pre-selected to play the female lead. Jake thinks it’s a bit unfair. What if other people wanted to audition too? But whatever. At least he got the part.

He finds you in between your lectures, holding out a boba for you in his hand. Jake’s not wearing a turtleneck this time, proudly wearing the battle scars of your teeth on his neck. No one’s brave enough to bring it up to him yet, to his dismay. Except you, who promptly smacks him in the arm for his shamelessness. 

“You look like a pervert,” you grumble, still taking the drink from him.

He chuckles at your cute expression. You say that like it wasn’t your intention to have him show the bites off. To show that he is very much occupied with someone else. Not Choa. Or whoever this other girl was.

“I was wearing my jacket the whole day,” he reassures. “Just took it off when I came to see you.”

He flexes slightly. “You think I’ve bulked recently?”

You roll your eyes and ignore his obvious fish for compliments. “So how’d it go? The audition?”

He smiles. “You’re looking at the male lead of Singing Striker,” he says proudly, hand to chest. “And before you ask, the name was not my choice.”

You scoff at the cheesiness. “Congrats,” you say through small sips of your gifted drink. “Break a leg.”

“Babe… when you say it like that, I feel like you mean it the other way.”

You shake your head, speaking robotically. “So who’s the female lead? It’s a romcom, you said?”

“The girl,” he starts, snapping his fingers like he doesn’t already know who she is. “Suji. From the restaurant. The one who recruited me.”

Your eyes morph into a squint, like you’re glaring at him. 

“...Interesting,” you say, willing yourself not to overreact. So Jake is hot now (always was). Girls just love to approach him with invitations to stuff. And he gets to act in a musical with someone that Jay described as “the baddest girl I’ve ever seen in my life.” Great! You love that, actually.

You bite down hard on the boba straw. “You know what… Are they casting for extras?"

–

And it's like a bad habit now. How you nip and scar his neck like you’re feeding off him every time a girl even so much looks in his direction. It’s easier than saying you’re jealous, easier than admitting that you have a sick sort of need to control who Jake interacts with.

You almost bent a metal spoon in the cafeteria when a girl asked for his number while you were sitting right in front of him. Granted, you did denounce being in a relationship with him pretty heavily the first few weeks at school. You knew she had every right to shoot her shot, but that didn't stop you from taking Jake right into a janitorial closet and making you eat him out as an apology.

“Fuck, baby,” he moans into the space between your thighs as your hands push him deeper into your wetness. “I've never even seen that girl in my life—”

You grit your teeth, angry that he even mentioned her.  “Did I ask?” you growl through sharp breaths. “Just shut up.”

He smiles against your clit, sucking harshly to elicit more of your beautiful noises. He hums into you. Happy that you're mad at him. Happy that he gets to do dirty things with you without having to practically be on his knees and begging. Well, really, he already was.

His tongue laps at your folds, thrusting in and out to prolong his stay in between your thighs. Maybe he is teasing, but really, he’s just taking it all in. Your addictive noises. Your sweet taste. The feeling of his fingers digging into your ass just to hold you up. The way you clench around his tongue when he arches it inside, real deep. Yeah, he needs you bad.

Jake is lapping at you, your legs constricting around him even tighter when he finds his way back to your clit. When he tugs on it with his teeth, you jolt.

“Jake—” He does not care. He nips again, flattening his tongue to soothe the slight pinch. You arch your back into him, riding his face until you stop yourself. You look desperate. Pathetic even. But Jake groans.

“Keep going,” he huffs. “Use me, babe. Use me like I’m your fucking toy.”

You tsk, wondering where he learned to talk like that. 

“Fucking pervert,” you mutter through harsh breaths. But your grip on him does tighten, and he whimpers at the feeling of you tugging on his locks.

“You like it when I'm like this, don't you?” You grit your teeth, pushing him in further. His nose is practically buried into your clit as he fucks his pink muscle into you at a merciless pace.

“Like when you get attention. Like when everyone fucking wants you.”

You're seething, practically riling yourself up. He tries to speak, but you clench around his tongue, trapping his voice. He hums into your folds instead, licking the roof of your warm hole as he finds the exact spot he's been searching for. You mewl.

“Fuck! T-there!”

You're grinding onto his face now, smothering him with your scent. Yes, he thinks to himself, please suffocate him. Tremors go through your body as you feel something intense build in the lower pit of your stomach. So close. So fucking close.

Jake’s grip on your ass loosens as he lets you do all the work. Your legs over his shoulder pump furiously into his face. Like, Jake is just a mere vessel for your climax. And he wouldn't have it any other way. He doesn't even nurse his own hard-on, one that's painfully stretching his jeans. 

You're fucking his tongue, whining with each thrust, eyes starting to roll back, fingers almost pulling Jake’s hair from his scalp. Your hips stutter and then—

“Fuuuck…” Your orgasm pulses through you in ways that have you screaming silently. Your legs are trembling as his mouth vibrates with his hums against your core. Jake’s lapping up all your juices with an urgency.

Everything. He wants to taste everything. When you gently push him off from the oversensitivity, he resists at first. He holds you in place until he gets his fill, until tears are threatening to spill over. But your legs finally find the ground as he looks up at you with half-lidded eyes.

“I love you,” he whispers, out of breath. 

‘Whore’ you want to say out loud, but you know that would only make him hornier. He’s weirdly into stuff like that. But you smile as you comb through his hair. He doesn’t have complaints about you messing it all up as long as you’re fucking him, huh?

Jake, still on his knees, looks up at you with a lick of his lips, savoring the remaining taste of you on it. You wish he could see how he looked. Flushed. Damp. Yours. You almost lift him up to kiss him when—Ding.

The loving gaze you two share is cut off by the sound of his phone. He finally gets up from his knees, checking the notification.

“Oh shit,” he mutters. “Suji says I missed the costume fitting. I think I need to head out soon—”

You smash your lips against his, interrupting his train of thought. You moan at the taste of yourself on his devious tongue. Jake smirks, wrapping his arms around your waist. Maybe you could add a few more hickeys to his collection before he heads out... Just for good measure.

–

jake: let’s go to jay’s together?

For one of your weekly hangouts. The nights you try to avoid because they always end with you ignoring the pile of assignments you’ve already been putting off. 

you: sure. wya rn?

You smack your forehead the second you realize how quickly you sent that text. You swear you weren’t waiting. It wasn’t like you were staring at the last message he sent five hours ago, ruminating over whether it was appropriate to tell him how much you missed him.

jake: meet me by the bleachers :D practice is ending soon.

The speed at which you change outfits is impressive, already heading to the damn field before you realize it. He’s there, dribbling with a couple of his teammates. You sit at the top of the stands, a bit out of his sight. He catches a glimpse of you anyway and waves. You shoot him a simple smile of acknowledgement that dampens almost immediately.

Because you also see Choa, handing him a water bottle. When Jake reaches for it, trying to avoid brushing her hand, she purposefully finds his fingers anyway. It’s enough for your stomach to sink.

Even though he’s just smiling politely. Even when it looks like their conversation lasts for two seconds. It doesn’t feel any less bad. Choa notices you staring, and she scoffs. “This is a closed practice—”

“She’s with me,” Jake corrects her immediately. “I told her to come. That’s okay, right?”

You lift an eyebrow, challenging her. Jake said it the nice way. If she had to hear you speak, you would have probably been escorted off the field by now. She coughs awkwardly and nods, instantly folding under Jake’s attention. Your boyfriend, by the way.

“O-of course,” she stammers. “Just make sure she doesn’t see the playbook.”

The guys continue playing, and you move down a few rows, keeping Choa in your line of sight. It’s like she feels the daggers you send her way because she whips around to glare at you.

“It’s kind of pathetic,” she starts. “How you cling onto him.” You squint at her, not sure if you heard her correctly. You turn around, too, to check if she really had the audacity to speak to a stranger like you in that way.

“You talking to me?” you ask, pointing at yourself mockingly. She clicks her tongue.

“Who else?” she bites back. “Do you even have a name, or do you usually just go by Jake’s guard dog?”

Your cheeks burn in anger. Oh, if you were in high school… She’d have been on the ground by now, makeup stained with turf and pebbles. But unfortunately, you’re trying to stick to your resolution. A reformed delinquent girl at a prestigious university—

“You mute too?” Choa adds in for good measure. You stand, and it’s like Jake’s Spidey senses tingle because he stops to watch, monitoring if he needs to step in.

“You know,” you say, voice cool and devoid of emotion, “you’ve got a lot to say for someone who has to talk like a baby to get a man’s attention.”

She snarls. “Excuse me?”

“Jake’s not gonna let you hit,” you mock, scanning her up and down with a disgusted face. You only say the next part just to piss her off. “You’re not really his type.”

“And you are?” She steps in closer. “You’re stuck in the fucking friendzone, acting like hot shit—”

Oh, if only she knew. The truth is sitting on your tongue, burning, begging to be spoken just so you can wipe that stupid smirk off her face. But you’re not that angry yet. Not enough to expose yourself.

“You seem like such a loser,” she continues, voice laced with malice. “Everyone already thinks you look like some stray puppy following Jake everywhere he goes. Don’t you have a life of your own? Any hobbies? Isn’t it sad showing up where you’re not wanted?”

Ouch. Jake was your puppy. He follows you around everywhere. 

She digs right into that ugly little fear in the back of your mind. That you look as pitiful as you feel. That you truly were just biding your time in this dumb university until Jake showers you with attention. Is this what a relationship’s supposed to feel like? Like you’re waiting for him, all the damn time?

You inhale a deep breath. You’re better than this. Better than catfights over someone that’s already yours. A man who sleeps on your chest almost every night... But you’re not above being petty.

“And did he tell you all that,” you ask with fake sweetness, “or are your delusions that Jake’s gonna fuck you starting to get to your brain?”

She opens her mouth, but you cut her off. “I’ll make sure to put in a good word for you,” you continue, sarcasm dripping in your voice. “Make sure Jakey knows exactly the kind of girl you are.”

Choa bites the inside of her cheek. “Not like I said anything wrong.”

“Oh, right.” You pitch your voice up to that grating baby tone she uses with Jake. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate you calling me a ‘fucking loser,’ since you care so much about what he thinks.”

You could laugh at her suddenly hunched shoulders, but you just drop back down onto your seat, fake scrolling through your phone. “Don’t you have a team to manage?”

Choa whips her bob around, stomping back toward the group and desperately hoping that no one heard. But Jake is already staring. He doesn’t look mad. Just resigned. 

“Choa?” he calls out, voice low and almost inaudible. He’s not smiling like usual.

“Yes?” she answers immediately, with that lilted tone that sounds like nails on a chalkboard. You don’t hear the conversation that takes place, so curious as to why Choa’s expression suddenly drops.

“Don’t ever talk to her like that, again” he says, and the entire team stiffens around them. 

“And next time,” he adds, walking past her, “Just mind your fucking business.”

–

You never, in all your years of living, thought you’d be sitting in an auditorium seat watching your boyfriend act like he was in love with another girl on stage. But here you are, leg bouncing and forearms itching from the irritation bubbling in your chest.

“But don't you get it?!” Jake rehearses, script in hand. His hands flail in fake exasperation. You cover your mouth to hide the wince forming on your lips. “How can I choose between the stage and football?!”

“You don't have to choose,” Suji steps in, acting much better than Jake, at least. “You can do both.”

Jake sighs, throwing his hands up in the air. He's facing her now.

She's pretty, you think. Really pretty. Probably one of the most gorgeous girls you've ever seen in your life. And Jake is staring right into her eyes. You can’t help but wonder if he thinks the same. You grit your teeth at the thought.

“But what would people think of me?” he sighs. Suji shakes her head, moving closer. Your brows knit. That's not part of the script.

“Who cares what other people think?” she says softly, resting her hand on his chest. Your expression darkens immediately. “If it feels like you're alone… Then I can be there to support you.”

Maybe Jake's character should care what other people think, especially if he’s gonna prioritize singing on stage with some pretty girl over his football career—

You slap your own cheek lightly. Relax.

“Cut,” the musical director calls out. “Great job, you two! After this is the dance scene. We can rehearse that tomorrow. I think that's all for the day.”

When the actors and stage crew finally funnel out, you watch Jake stay behind, chatting with his costars onstage. So radiant, smiling at them with his toothy grin and cracking jokes as he says goodbye. He never used to be like that. Used to be so painfully shy that Jay had to accept his academic awards for him in high school.

And yeah, you feel like shit when he's standing there, surrounded by people who have stars in their eyes when he talks, while you're grumpily waiting in a faraway seat with no real excuse to interrupt. You're just part of the stage crew, after all. Just one of the invisible people who move props in between scenes while Jake and Suji’s characters fall deeply in love with each other. Yuck.

But you’re not gonna do the usual thing of dragging him to the nearest secluded area and fucking his brains out. No—you’re better than that. You’re not a loser! You’d let this pass.

“Bye, I’ll catch up with you guys soon! My friend’s waiting for me.”

The word ‘friend’ digs deep into your heart. But that’s your own fault.

Jake walks toward you, and the quick smile he throws your way is cut short the moment he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He stops in front of you, forehead still glistening from the stage lights, eyes glued to the screen even as he talks.

“I have practice in like thirty minutes,” he sighs, scrolling through his calendar. “And then the crew wants to have, like, a group dinner later tonight.”

He cranes his neck to release some tension, finally looking up at you. “Damn. My character is lowkey right. It really is hard balancing the two.”

You roll your eyes and stand up. “The crew? Like Jay and Sunghoon?”

He shakes his head as he walks beside you, still a bit occupied with his phone. He's sending text messages to some massive group chat, text bubble after text bubble popping up.

“The main acting crew,” he says, emphasizing the second word. “I think they wanna run the lines at En Bar and get a couple of drinks.”

You almost stop in your tracks, but you force yourself to continue walking with him, arms crossed. Good for him, you think. And you mean it. He's adjusted so well to university life, while yours feels like it revolves around him.

What's Jake up to? Is his practice done? Who's he talking to? Is it Choa? Is it Suji? Is it every girl that makes eye contact with your newly socially adept boyfriend, who just so happens to have the most gorgeous face known to mankind?

You want to punch yourself real bad.

“Do you wanna come?” he asks when he notices you've fallen silent. He thinks it's cute when you're jealous. Sulking and pouty—when it’s obvious why you’re upset. Not when you're quiet. Not when you're creating distance between you two as he walks beside you.

“I can ask them if we can reserve more chairs—”

“It's fine!” you interrupt, but even you don’t convince yourself. “I have work to catch up on anyway.”

His lips part as if recalling something important, something he promised you. 

“I'm so sorry, babe!” he gasps. “I totally forgot that you needed help studying for your exam tomorrow!”

You shrug your shoulders. You’re a cool girlfriend. Super chill. Not crazy at all.

“No, it's okay,” you say, chain necklace feeling heavy on your chest. “I'll just go to the tutoring center. You're busy, I get it.”

His eyes are still laced with concern. You sound so disconnected, so not yourself. Did he do something wrong?

“I can come over tomorrow?” he suggests, but it almost comes out as a plea. “We can watch the new movie you wanted—”

“My roommate’s gonna be home.”

“Okay…” he says, voice fading. “What about my dorm?”

You shake your head.  “I'm not really up for a movie, I guess.” 

Jake’s expression sours. It feels like you’re shoving sheets of metal down his throat. He can take you angry. Can handle you screaming, kicking, crying, and calling him names. He can’t take whatever this is.

“I can just cancel,” he says quickly. “I’ll come over tonight!”

And Choa’s voice resounds in your ear.

“You seem like a fucking loser.”

You bite your bottom lip and stare at his wavering gaze. You wonder if he pities you. 

Has he noticed? How quickly you reply to his texts? How often you show up to his extracurricular activities? How you can’t seem to admit that you’re hurting, even when he’s right here in front of you? God, you hate this feeling.

“It’s okay,” you say, and it’s small like a whisper. “Need some alone time anyway.”

“Alright,” he breathes, relenting to whatever boundary you’ve set with him. He reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your face, but when you flinch, he retracts his hand instantly.

“I love you?” he tests.

You give him a small smile and nod, pushing past him. He moves like he wants to catch your hand and stop you. But as always, he lets you walk just a little too out of his reach.

Because you still don’t say it back.

–

So this what is what it feels like to twiddle your thumbs and try not to scream as Jake misses yet another hangout... He’s busy with his daily practices and rehearsals. You get that. But it’s still physically torturous to sit through Jay and Sunghoon stoking the fires of your insecurities.

“He’s gotta be seeing someone,” Sunghoon sighs, reclining into the beanbag in Jay’s apartment. “Dude just abandons his friends without any pussy involved? There’s no way.”

You smash a throw pillow from the couch and into his face, and Jay throws another one for good measure.

“Why do you always think with your dick?” Jay mutters. “Just let Jake be. This is his moment. Not like he had much to work with in high school.”

Sunghoon sighs. “Yeah,” he mumbles, almost apologetic. “He was pretty lame back then.”

You never thought so. Maybe you joked about it, but you never really meant it. He was kind. A little shy. So eager to please and follow you around. And now that the roles were reversed, you weren’t sure how to feel anymore. Fuck. Why couldn’t you just be happy for him?

He has this amazing life outside of you now. Cool friends (not Jay and Sunghoon). Great prospects for the future. It’s like a bird leaving the nest. Your carefully cultivated nest.

You felt like a cloud raining over his head when you’re around him now. After Choa, you started to notice the whispers around campus a little more. How people avoid him when you’re around because you can’t carry empty conversations about upcoming exam scores the same way Jake can.

It’s just different. He is. And it feels like you are too. But not a good different. It’s the kind that makes you feel like this isn’t how you should be. That you aren’t who you want to be… Maybe Choa was right.

And now a pillow is thrown in your direction. You shoot daggers at Sunghoon with your glare.

“What?!” you yell. He pounces in fear.

“I asked,” he coughs. “Is college treating you okay? You making friends?”

You roll your eyes. “Are you my dad?”

Jay sighs. “We always talk about Jake. Sue us for wanting to know how you’re doing for once.”

The words linger. What are you doing?

–

You’re stewing in it, marinating in how lonely it feels to stand in a corner with the stage crew while Jake, Suji, and the rest of the main cast laugh amongst themselves. Whatever.

“Those two are so cute,” a girl beside you says. Gaeul. So sweet, so bubbly. So oblivious to how tightly you clench your teeth. “They’d be like the it couple on campus, no?”

When you look between Jake and his toothy grin and Suji with her sweet laugh, you can’t help the way your heart constricts. “Yeah,” you mutter in disgruntled agreement. “I guess.”

Jake sends you sneaking glances, ones you don’t notice despite your eyes lingering on him. 

You haven't been the most responsive lately. He texts you a lot in between practices and rehearsals. Whenever he has the chance. He asks to come over. Asks you to come over. And you’ve turned him down almost every time.

You didn’t attend his last two games, you’re skipping rehearsals that you used to sit through for hours, and Jay knows where you're holed up more than he does. He’s worried about you. Worried that you’re avoiding him. Were you avoiding him?

“I heard you two are really good friends,” Gaeul asks you with sparkling eyes. “He seems like such a catch. How’d you not fall in love?”

You shrug. What answer are you supposed to give? It’s not like you were resistant to his charm either. “He went through a transformation recently,” you admit. “We were both kind of outcasts in high school.”

“Me too!” she says excitedly. “I bleached my hair, and everything before uni started. What about you? Were you two like super shy?”

You shake your head. “Jake was. I was just a bad student. Got in trouble a lot. My parents literally laughed when I told them I wanted to go here.”

And your heart thuds in your chest from a memory. Because Jake believed in you. Sat through hours of studying, teaching you the difference between derivatives and whatever the fuck linearization was, just for the chance to attend the same university. So he could spend time with you, so he could be with you. And now you barely see him.

“Really? I’m not surprised, though. You seem like such a chill girl. Like you don’t care what other people think of you.”

“Trust me. I’m far from it.” You catch Jake’s longing gaze again, but you turn away.

“Starting to think it was a mistake joining this thing,” you mumble, “with how often everyone forgets their lines.”

She laughs. “I like how straightforward you are,” she says with a wide smile. “Don’t really mince your words, do you?”

You smile too, in what feels like forever. It felt free to talk about something—anything—outside of him.

“Unfortunately, I don’t know how to hold back what I say.” Which is a lie. Because you hold back a lot. More than you let on. 

“Alright!” the stage manager yells. “Let’s get in position for the final scene.”

The kiss scene. The one you’ve dreaded for so long. You and Gaeul move across the stage, setting up the mics and instruments in their right place. You move past Jake with your head down. He frowns. So you are avoiding him.

“Places, people!”

You watch, from the wings, as Jake pours his heart out into the lyrics. A song about breaking free from stereotypes and whatever other inspirational stuff this whole musical’s about. He’s good. Really good. He moves like a natural on stage, throwing Suji these soft, tender glances that look so painfully real. She glows under the lights, stars in her eyes. And as the song comes to an end, he picks her up to spin her.

Just like the script says. And you clutch your forearm at the sight.

“I feel like I can really be myself with you,” he says to her. “Like I don’t have to hide or pretend.”

Whatever.

“And you make me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.”

The two stare at each other. A pause. Jake leans in. And so does she. Fuck.

You can’t do this. Can’t watch. You turn and walk out the back exit. Your chest is heavy, constricted with that ugly pang of envy.

Fuck this feeling. It hurt. Why did it have to hurt? You hate the tears that well up in your eyes, hate the shivering of your shoulders as you hug yourself in the parking lot of the stupid auditorium. You need to go back in. Save face. Show how little that kiss scene affected you because you’re supposed to be his friend in the eyes of everyone else.

You clutch your necklace through your shirt, fingers twisting the ring. Jake, who loves you. Who desperately wants your relationship to be public, to show you off. The same Jake on stage kissing another girl for a stupid musical you didn’t even want to be a part of.

He doesn’t deserve this. This monstrous version of you, who cares too much but gives too little. Overbearing to the point of suffocation.

So you walk back in, face steeled and tears wiped. He’s talking to the director with Suji, like nothing happened. Like all semblance of your self-esteem wasn’t just ruined a few minutes ago. But you need to stop. Because it isn't his fault. It isn't even Suji’s.

It’s yours. You hurt your own feelings.

Jake sees you and immediately lights up, calling your name as he jogs over. You don’t smile back.

“I have some time after rehearsals,” he says lovingly, his hand tugging your arm. “Wait for me?”

This would be the last time you would.

–

He tries to hold your hand on the walk back home to steady his heart rate. Opening night creeps closer and closer, and preparation alone won’t save him from the nerves. But when you pull away before his fingers can intertwine with yours, he flinches.

Maybe there are too many people around, Jake tells himself. You’re probably worried about being seen. And so he continues his merry yapping. He doesn’t notice the defeated glint in your eyes or the slow steps you take next to his. He’s still riding the high from rehearsal, still proud he finally made it through every line without stuttering or needing the script.

Maybe he’ll do well enough on opening night that you’ll let him kiss you afterward. Maybe you’ll walk toward him with flowers while he wraps you in his arms. He’d spin you around, brag to the whole world that you’re his girlfriend. Say it loud and proud in front of annoying ass Jay and Sunghoon, who got front row seats.

The thought pulls a grin onto Jake’s face, making him skip ahead a little. And you both keep walking toward the dorms. Just like any other day.

Until you ruin it.

“I’m dropping out of the stage crew,” you say, casually. He stops in his tracks. All semblance of a smile wipes from his face. The show is sold out. It’s too late to get you tickets. 

“You won’t be able to watch,” he says, panic laced in his voice. You’re at a standstill, in the middle of campus, surrounded by trees and concrete. “You should’ve told me! I can see if I can pull some strings—”

He’s already taking his phone out to text someone. Probably the director. He doesn’t even ask why. Just goes straight to problem-solving. Your Jake. Too good. Too kind. Too forgiving.

It’s too much.

“I’m not coming to watch,” you say, harsher this time, stopping him from sending the message. Guilt washes over you instantly. Because he looks at you with his brows knit together, eyes wavering.

“I don’t understand.”  You don’t want to come? You don’t want to support him?

Your mouth opens to say something. Anything. But your throat feels hoarse, shoulders too heavy. Shit. Don’t cry. You don’t cry in front of anyone.

“Jake,” you start, clenching your quivering hands open and closed. “I can’t do this anymore.”

His heart drops. 

“Do what anymore?” he swallows, his mouth dry. “I’m confused—”

“I think we need to break up.”

Numb. Everything is numb.

“W-what?” Tears sting Jake’s eyes before he can blink them back. “Don’t… don’t say that.”

You shake your head. “Jake,” you whisper, careful not to get too close. Careful so you don’t make the mistake of taking back your words. “I don’t think we’re good for each other.”

He inches forward. You take a step back.

“Do you think that? That I’m not good enough—”

“No,” you interrupt. But he isn’t listening. And he doesn’t want to. Because this feels like a fucked up joke, a prank on him that’s been taken too far. Won’t you stop?

“Because if it’s something I did, I can change,” he begs. And your heart breaks a little at how desperately he searches for a hint of emotion in your face. But you don’t relent. You can be the bad guy. You always are. 

“Please. We can talk this through.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, an unusual softness in your voice. “I don’t want to change my mind—”

“Why not?!” he asks, voice louder. The quiet that falls between you two is masked by the rustle of surrounding trees, orange and red leaves falling around you two. The cool, autumn air brushes your face. His eyes sting with redness. 

“Why don’t you tell me anything?” His voice cracks. The aching in your heart makes you want to give in, to take it all back. But you aren’t like Jake. You can’t adjust, can’t welcome change so openly. 

So as you look at him with his slicked back hair and sharp features, so different from a year ago, it feels like you've already lost something. The version of yourself who had more to give than hollow excuses and marks left on his skin.

You couldn’t admit to it even now. That you hate who you’ve become. “I’m telling you right now,” you gulp, bracing your own words. “That I want to break up.”

And the first semblance of tears falls down Jake’s cheeks as he lets out a bitter laugh. He doesn’t believe it. Can’t accept it. He won’t let this be the end.

“If it’s because of what Choa said—”

Your brows furrow. “You heard what she said?” 

His hands are in his hair, tugging at it with frustration. You seem angry, but he doesn’t know why. He never does.

“I told her to mind her business,” he explains quickly. “It doesn’t matter what she thinks. So if you’re breaking up with me just because she called you clingy or whatever…”

And he doesn’t know it, but the words trigger something in you. Something you’ve been pushing down over and over again. The feeling of seeming weak, of needing him. The need to monopolize. It sickens you.

“It matters what I think Jake!” you finally burst out. Frustration etched in your voice, shaky from the cold air and your wavering emotions. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“All I ever do now is wonder who you’re with, why you’re with them, and I just… I just feel so fucking lonely.”

He reaches for you, but you push him away. Your grievances spill out of you before you can hold them back.

“I’m paranoid of anyone who talks to you. I couldn’t even fucking watch you do that stupid kiss scene,” you continue. 

“We didn’t even kiss!”

“That’s not the fucking point!” you scream, before you can stop yourself. You inhale sharply when he flinches. Calm down. This is not his fault. Why are you getting angry with him?

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, taking one more step back. He holds your wrist gently to keep you in place.

Jake stares at you with his lips parted, stunned. “So why can’t we just go public?” he pleads. “You wouldn’t have to feel this way if—”

“That’s not the issue either,” you scoff, but you can’t even convince yourself. Because isn’t this how it all started? Your unwillingness to be embarrassed, to seem vulnerable in front of others. Was this not the root of it all?

“Then what is?!” he cries, his grip on your wrist tightens, not to hurt you, but so that you don’t run. Because you’re good at that. Running.

“I get insecure too,” he reassures, but you look past him now. “But I tell you. I tell you when I’m hurt, I tell you when I’m down. Because I… I want you to understand me. I want to understand you too…”

He swallows hard before continuing. “So I don’t get why you would even bring up breaking up before we even try to solve the problem together—”

“Because I don’t want to solve it, Jake.”

His hold on you loosens instantly, arm dropping to his side. You feel colder as he steps back. Jake stares at you, hurt laced in his gaze. Like you stabbed him in the heart and twisted the knife in to marinate.

“...You're always like this,” he mutters under his breath. “Always saying hurtful things without thinking about how they make me feel.”

He feels his throat close up as he draws in some baited breaths. The tears come in more heavily, his cheeks damp as they roll down his pained face. 

“So you see what I mean?” you say, your own tears threatening to spill over without you even realizing. A part of him instinctively wants to wipe them away, to pull you close and make it stop. But all he feels is anger. Because you’re the one breaking up with him. You’re the one choosing to end things. What right do you have to cry? What right do you have to look shattered when he's the one in pieces?

“I’m horrible to you,” you let out with pained laughter. He shakes his head immediately. 

“No, you’re not—”

“I always pick fights—”

“You don’t—”

“I act like a fucking bitch—”

“Don’t call yourself that—”

"I feel like I’m insane when I’m around you,” you let out, before you can stop yourself.

“I don’t think that at all—”

“But I do, Jake,” you cry. “I hate how jealous I get when you’re surrounded by other people. I hate feeling like I’m holding you back. I hate what I’ve become since…”

And you can’t finish because his tears have stopped. He’s looking at you with a new kind of anguish. The kind that you don’t necessarily expect. The kind that feels like disgust. 

“Since you started dating me?” he says like he correctly finished your statement. But that’s not what you're going to say. Never that.

“Since you didn’t need me anymore,” you whimper. “I’m not a good girlfriend, Jake. You’d be so much happier without me. Everyone would think it if they knew.”

He stands in front of you, hollow. If they knew. He has to laugh. That’s the problem. No one does. You don’t want them to. It’s clear now.

“Fine,” he says, and the steadiness of his voice makes you shudder. Good. This is what you wanted. 

He’s staring at you, jaded like he had come to terms with it. He used to love how insistent you were about your point of view on things, how firmly you stood by your opinions. Used to envy it. But now, he detests it. That stubbornness. 

“Whatever you want,” he sighs, hands slipping in his pockets. “Let’s break up. Pretend we never happened.”

Your mouth parts. “Excuse me?”

Jake scoffs, hands tightening into a fist. They’re trembling, but he won’t let you see. He can do what you do. Act like he’s okay. Act like you didn’t just kill him. He’s gotten very good at that. Acting.

“I’m being honest, Jake—”

“You don’t love me,” he cuts in. And your heart sinks. “That’s all this is. You never show it. You never say it. And I’m tired of hearing you pretend like you’re doing me a favor when I’m practically begging you not to leave.”

His voice cracks, but he continues. “So fine,” he mutters. “Have it your way. You won’t ever have to admit that we dated, start a clean slate without me. Just like you want.”

He presses his lips together and gives you one last look before he takes his hands out of his pockets. He’s fiddling with the ring. His ring. The ring that matches yours.

“You know,” he starts, voice trembling and bitter, “when it was the other way around… when I felt like shit about myself…. I never once thought of leaving you.”

His gaze is on the ground. “Because I always thought I was better with you than without. Because you made me want to be better.”

His voice falters. He looks at you now, sniffling. 

“I tried to be better.”

And in one swift motion, Jake takes off the ring.  “...But you didn’t even want me enough to stay.”

“Jake, no—” 

But it’s too late. You see him throw it, the bushes rustling nearby. Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. He shoves his hands back in his pockets and walks past you to the direction of the dorms.

“There,” he says quietly behind you. “Like we never happened.”

He doesn’t look back, doesn’t even spare you a glance. It’s only when he’s fully out of sight that you dig through the orange and red pile of leaves, through dirt and branches. Tears stream down your face as you sob, searching for it like a mad woman. Pathetic. So fucking pathetic. 

But you can’t find it. No matter how hard you try to find a silver glint in the greenery, there is nothing. And you clutch onto yours like it’s your lifeline. He threw it away. How could he throw it away?

And you wonder then if you made the biggest mistake in your life.

–

You thought the pit in your stomach would fade once you ripped the bandage, but the hole in your heart opened wider. And it’s only been a week.

Jake used to dodge questions about his love life, but now he admits to anyone with ears who walks by that he’s single. You have ears. And you walk by often. You’re not sure if he’s taunting you or if you just want him to be.

When your eyes meet his at the one lecture you still share, he’s the first to turn away. Jake used to sit beside you, shoulder brushing yours, tilting his laptop so you could keep up when the professor switched the slides too quickly. When you pass the football field, you try not to wince when you see Choa latch onto his arm like she belongs there. He used to always pull away. 

The worst part is that these stolen glances are all you have of him. He’s blocked you on everything, which feels weird to think about. Jake, who’s always gentle, always forgiving, always offering second chances—even to people who don’t deserve it. Maybe this time you’re one of them.

You have no right to be upset. Not anymore.

And so you wrap yourself in your studies, check out new extracurriculars, even try to make new friends on campus who know nothing about Jake. You try to rebuild, try to go back in time before that fateful day in high school when you met him. But it’s been far too long. 

He was a part of you, so deeply ingrained in your daily life. How could you act like you two never happened? Like your relationship never existed? How could he do it so well?

And then, you have to remind yourself. You'd already been doing that anyway.

–

“So what did he do?” Jay questions, tuning his guitar while Sunghoon and you sit in his living room. “Did he tell you he was done paying for your stuff or…”

“Shut up,” you grumble, already agitated enough as you scroll through Suji’s Instagram. You couldn’t even muster the energy to be jealous over a photo of Jake and her holding up peace signs next to each other. You just feel empty. “Nothing happened.”

Jay rolls his eyes. “He’s usually texting one of us to get you to answer his messages by now. It’s been crickets from him for the last two weeks.”

You swallow hard. He used to do that?

Jay’s gaze flickers toward you and sighs as he fiddles with his guitar strings. “You know, I really don’t get the two of you,” he mumbles. “Like you already rejected him in high school, you’re practically just stringing him along at this point—”

You sit up. “Excuse me?”

He shakes his head, dropping the guitar onto his lap. “Jake told us,” he starts hesitantly. “That you ran away when he tried to confess last year.”

‘But that’s not the full story,’ you want to scream out loud. 

“Yeah,” Sunghoon laughs as if recalling a memory. “Dude! Remember in the summer when he started going to the gym with me?”

Jay cringes. “Yeah, and he told us it was because he’d be starting this season, but we knew it was just because you said you liked macho guys.”

You shake your head, ears warming at the thought. That’s insane. 

“Oh, and that stupid ass ring,” Sunghoon adds, clutching his stomach. Your hand instinctively clutches at your necklace, fingers brushing the chain. “His mom beat the shit out of him when she found out how much he spent on it.”

You twiddle with the ring through your shirt. You should've taken it off by now. He'd already thrown his away. So what use was it leaving him if all you were going to do was hold on?

“Why would he do all that for me?” you mutter, not realizing that you said your thoughts out loud. 

Jay shrugs. “Love makes you do stupid things.” And then he sighs. “Go easy on him, okay? You know how he is. Jake’s a sensitive boy. Especially when it comes to you.”

You look down at the ground, shame bubbling up in your chest. Jake loved you. He really did.

–

You smile from your view of the auditorium, even from the back, feeling like a speck of dust in the full house. A bouquet is in your hand as you nervously find your seat. Jake’s right. Everyone’s here to watch.

You could see Jay and Sunghoon’s tiny heads toward the front, pushing down the bitterness of not being able to sit as close as they were. It's not fair, you think. You had to buy a last minute ticket off a student who could no longer make it while they don’t even like musicals. You shake your head.

This isn’t about you. It’s Jake’s big night. 

The lights dim. Your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—steps onto the stage in a football jersey that looks almost exactly like his real-life one. The audience quiets at his entrance. As he delivers his cheesy opening monologue, you mouth the words with him. He’d practiced it so much in front of you. Pride wells up in your chest. He doesn’t stutter once. 

Even when Suji joins him on stage, even as they sing together during their characters’ first meeting, you couldn’t help but smile. 

The scenes blur as you lose yourself in the show. You watch the characters as they are and not as your ex and the girl you desperately wanted to hate. It was actually fun. The cheeky glances, the perfectly rehearsed dance scenes. The way the main character so seriously thought that singing was going to affect his football career. It made you laugh, made you tear up, made you suck in a deep breath when Jake leaned into her. 

And because you’re still you, and because the wounds still feel fresh, you close your eyes. You don’t have to know if he really did it or not. It doesn’t matter. It’s his moment.

‘If only I felt like this the whole time,’ you thought to yourself. Then maybe you wouldn’t have to psych yourself up to find him afterward and pour your heart out to him. You shiver at the thought.

But Jay had said it: love makes you do stupid things.

And you do. Love him. 

Enough to buy him flowers. Enough to admit that you’re done hiding. Enough to risk asking him to love you again—even if there’s a chance that he already moved on.

–

“Bro,” Jay starts, with tear-stained cheeks. “Don’t ever do that again. I can’t be crying like that in front of everybody.”

“Quit football,” Sunghoon says, patting Jake on the back with unusually red eyes. “Just focus on this musical shit. I swear you could make it big time.”

Jake chuckles, watching as the auditorium empties of guests. “Thanks, guys. I’m glad you two liked it.”

God, he wishes you were here. He could imagine exactly what you’d say when you walk up to him, with a small smile you try to suppress. Saying good job while ruffling his hair. Trying to act like you didn’t cry like everyone else. Jake smiles, quietly, at his own thoughts. It’s ridiculous, coming up with hypotheticals when you’d already made it clear. You don't want to be with him anymore. 

“Jake.” 

His heart instinctively skips a beat.

When he turns, the air in his lungs escapes him. You’re holding a bouquet so big it hides most of your frame, looking at him expectantly as you push it towards him. His eyes widen, unable to speak or even take the flowers from you. Is he dreaming?

“You did a good job,” you say, trying to sound as genuine as possible, wanting him to feel your sincerity.  “You killed it up there.”

“Thanks,” he says shortly, finally taking the flowers from your hands. He can’t help but stare. 

“I—” you try to push out, but Suji rushes to the stage to tap Jake on the shoulder.

“Hey.” She smiles up at him. “We're heading out soon for the celebration. Did you still want a ride with me?”

“Damn, even musicals got afterparties?” Sunghoon mutters to Jay, who attempts to shush him.

Jake returns a smile. “Yeah, just give me a second.”

And when he turns around to look at you, to finally hear what you have to say, your eyes are glossed over. Maybe you’re too late. Maybe this is idiotic after all. It's been weeks. There's no guarantee he'll even listen.

“I just wanted to say congratulations,” you mutter, though you've changed the words you meant to say entirely. It's supposed to be: ‘I’m so proud of you. Will you take me back? I’ll stop being so mean. We can tell everyone we’re in love—yes, even Jay and Sunghoon.’

But old habits die hard. And Suji—beautiful fucking Suji—crushed every ounce of confidence you had to come up to him in the first place.

“That's all,” you say, shooting him a small grin. It doesn't quite reach your eyes. He notices. Jake always does. Just never knows the reason why.

Before you can step back, he grabs your wrist, spinning you into his arms. Like the male leads do in those stupid romcoms.

“Don't,” he whispers. “Please… don't run away this time.”

You stare up at him, searching his gaze.

“Man, what the fuck is going on…” Jay whispers behind the two of you.

Sunghoon shrugs. “You think they finally…?”

Jake turns his head to give a disgruntled look to his two idiotic friends, and they shrink, making their way down the stage to finally give the two of you more privacy. He turns his attention back to you, wrist still in his hand, and gently moves it down to take your hands in both of his.

“I thought you didn't want to come,” he starts, licking his lips through the nerves. “Why are you here?”

Your cheeks heat up. Fuck. Where do you even start?

He draws circles with his thumb on the back of your palms. “Why?” he asks again, more confident this time.

It would be easy to act like your old self and push out a half-assed excuse. That you just want to be supportive, even after you’ve broken up. That you don’t miss him at all. But you're too tired to pretend like Jake's absence in your life didn’t feel worse than when you were with him. 

“Because…” you start, with a shaky breath. “Because I wanted to talk to you.”

His brows furrow. “About what?”

And you feel your heart pumping in your chest, your palms slick with sweat. This is harder than you thought.

“I wanted to—” You swallow, taking in a deep breath before continuing. “I wanted to apologize. With the ring. The one you threw away.”

You see Jake's ears turn a bright shade of crimson. “Actually—”

“But I couldn’t find it,” you cut in. “No matter how hard I looked. I tried. I really, really…”

You start to choke up. Because fuck. He'd gotten you that ring to confess to you. Spent all his pocket money so that he could get something he knew you'd love. Had it engraved with the letter J. Your Jake. Your handsome, talented, smart, and wonderful Jake.

“...really want to get back together,” you finally let out, eyes shining underneath the stage lights as tears threaten to spill over. “I'm sorry, Jake.”

His breath hitches, hands releasing yours so suddenly. Your heart clenches. “You broke up with me,” he mutters.

You nod. “I-I thought I needed to. To find myself. But… you were right. I was just running away from my problems.”

You swallow hard, correcting yourself. “Our problems.”

He lets out a bitter laugh. “So is this the part where you expect me to forgive you?”

Your heart clenches. “I'm sorry,” you say again softly.

“You still haven’t even given me a reason,” he scoffs. “So tell me why.”

“Why do you want to get back together when—”

It’s like slow motion, what you do next. You cup Jake’s face right into your hands, crashing your lips onto his. In front of Sunghoon. In front of Jay. In front of the whole cast and crew who were packing up to leave. The same people he’s had to make excuses to about why he suddenly looked so distraught these past few weeks. You pull back, breathless.

“Because I love you,” you say, loud enough to elicit gasps from your watchers. You don’t even have it in you to be embarrassed anymore. Because the words fall naturally from your lips, like breathing. And it's like music to his ears. 

“I fucking love you,” you repeat, hands still on his cheeks. His mouth parts open, breathless. He blinks. Once. Twice. And then he smiles, tears forming in his eyes. Jake swoops in, his lips finding yours again. His mouth moves against yours in tandem, slow and passionate. Your eyes flutter shut, soaking in the taste of him. You missed him so much.

When he pulls away, a shit-eating grin lights up his face. “Finally,” he whispers, cheeks flushed. “You finally said it back.”

You lightly swat his shoulder. You should've known he was trying to egg you on. Jake and all his damn questions.

“I love you too,” he mutters against your temple, squeezing you against him. “I love you so much.”

He peppers kisses all over your face, and you hear gagging on the sidelines.

“Don’t ever leave me again,” he mutters into your hair. “That shit fucking hurt.”

You smile sadly. “I promise—”

“YOU TWO WERE DATING?!” a familiar voice cries out. Of course. Nosy-ass Sunghoon. You resist the urge to drop kick him right then.

“I have a better question,” Jay pipes in. “Are we invited to this afterparty too or…”

Jake furrows his brows, turning to the idiotic duo. “What afterparty?”

–

Sunghoon and Jay bombard you with questions about your secret relationship, but mainly just start arguing about who was gonna call the taxi for the party they still desperately wanted to go to, since Suji had already left.

Running far away from the auditorium, Jake and you giggle as the two idiots try to chase after you. When you both reach his dorm, he doesn't waste one second after you close the door to lift you over his shoulder. You yelp as your feet lift off the ground, squeaking when your back hits the mattress with a soft bounce.

He sets the bouquet softly on his nightstand before hovering over your frame, and his knees sink into the mattress as he traps you underneath him. Jake strokes your cheek lovingly, his hand trailing down and down until it reaches the edge of your skirt. Still as short as ever. Thighs so pretty underneath the thin fabric.

“I missed you,” he sighs, hands trailing to the edges of your panties. He strokes your plush skin, sending shivers down your spine. You want to roll your eyes, deflect the warm stirring in your core as he scans your figure, eyes clouded with lust. But you’re supposed to be turning over a new leaf. Honesty and all that.

“Imissedyoutoo…” you mutter lowly, rushing through your words.

He moves closer, ear practically touching your lips. “Hm?” 

You lose patience, baring your teeth and nipping his helix. He flinches, glaring at you with a playful scoff.

“You said you weren't gonna be mean anymore…” Jake sighs, tone dripping in mockery as he pouts. And you want to say something more, but Jake’s hands land on your ass, giving you a subtle squeeze.

You know what. You'll humor him. Just this once.

You bring your lips to the ear you just bit, kissing it lightly. Steady hands trail down the fake football jersey he adorns, and to the painful bulge of his shorts. Jake sucks in a deep breath.  You chuckle, amused at how suddenly it hardens. So easy to arouse. 

“Sorry,” you whisper, licking his outer shell. He shudders against your touch, your breath on his neck triggering goosebumps all across his arms. You squeeze him through the fabric, his head falling to your shoulder. “I’ll stop…”

“Don’t,” he lets out through ragged breaths, as you stroke him languidly. You chuckle. He’s so cute. Cheeks tinged with pink. It makes you want to do worse things to him...

“Lie down,” you command, and he gladly takes your place on the bed. Your knees encase him now, tugging his stupid jersey over his head. “Let me make it up to you…”

His muscles are so well-defined, glistening under the light of your dorm room. You trail kisses down his chest, licking down his abs. Salty. Just how you like him. Jake squirms underneath you as you tug his shorts down, his dick slapping your chin on the way up as it springs free. Jake almost cums from the sight, tip flushed red and pulsing with need. To feel you. To be so buried deep inside you that he can feel the head poking through your stomach. 

When you move your head down to kiss his hardness, he digs his fingers into your shoulder. “No, baby,” he mutters. “Come up here, hm?”

You furrow your brows. Why the fuck was he trying to interrupt you during your apology?

“Wha—” 

Jake cuts you short, manhandling your waist as his fingers press into your hips. He positions your knees on both sides of his head, turning you around. He pushes your mini skirt all the way up to scrunch around your midsection. Yes, you might have an amazing view of his throbbing cock, but now you can't see his beautiful fucked out face. He breathes in the scent of your panties with hooded eyes, nose grazing your clothed folds. 

You pout. “I thought I was the one making it up to you—”

“You are,” he chuckles, interrupting you instantly. He pushes your ass down to his face with one hand, using the other to press your back flush against his body. Your face inches closer to his member. Oh. That's what he's doing.

“Pervert…” you mumble, coyly reaching out for him. So thick and large that you need to use both hands to engulf him, pre-cum dribbling out of him as if on command. 

“I am,” he mumbles, pulling your panties low enough to give him access to your cunt, lying just below your knees. He licks a stripe up your drenched folds all the way to your puckered hole. You wither against him. “Call me whatever you want, baby. Just sit on my face when you do it.”

Your hips land down on him softly as your thumb spreads his liquid down his engorged length. This position was new to you, meaning it was also new to him. But Jake moves expertly like the quick learner he is. He plants open-mouthed kisses on your folds, pink muscle lapping at your labia like a man starved. Your tongue sticks out to offer kitten licks over his tip. 

But Jake hasn’t had you in weeks. And he knows what he wants. And it’s not the weak jutting you do against his face, or the shallow sucking you offer his engorged cock. No. He wants all of you. The sick part of you that would degrade him, that would rile yourself up like all those nights before. And he doesn’t want to have to mention a stupid nickname some stupid girl said to bring it out of you.

There were more healthy methods, he’s sure, to guide you right where he wants to be. And so Jake’s hands grip your ass, pushing you down on him harder. Forcing your hips to grind back and forth against his face at the rabid pace he sets, nose sticking in between your folds slightly as his tongue laps at your clit. Like this. Dirty. Raunchy. Aggressive. He fucking loves it. 

“Ngh—” you cry out, propelling him to push himself deeper in your mouth. You take a deep breath so his cock can slide through more easily, taking as much of him as you can to drown out your warbled moans. Your tongue finds the underside of his thickness, tapping him as you start to gag. And when Jake reaches the back of your throat, he gives you a second to calm yourself before he bucks his hips up into you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, remembering to hollow your cheeks as he shoots forward. But it’s hard to stay focused when his wet, pink muscle pushes into you. 

“Fuck—Taste so good, baby—” The squelching sounds that mix with Jake’s moans against your bundle of nerves are obscene, sucking and flicking his tongue with a fervor you try to match now. Your tongue curls up to meet the underside of his girth, bobbing your head up and down with ferocity. Anything to please him. 

“Mmmm—” you moan around him. Your mouth feels so fucking good, but your pussy on his lips was like actual heaven. He could eat you out all day. As a reward. As a punishment. Anything. 

And he breathes your scent in again, groaning once more. He pushes his nose closer to your folds, the tip of it engulfed in your wetness. You almost gag around his dick at the intrusion, saliva pooling at the base of his cock. You wrap your thighs around him tighter, bouncing on his face like he was nothing but a sex toy. Erratic. Desperate. Yes. Just like that. Fuck him like you never want him out of your sights again.

He knows you're close, knows by the way you start scratching at his thighs like an agitated pet. But, no. Jake needs it. Needs you to cum all over his face. Make a mess on him. Of him. His tongue plunges into you now, index finger coming up to play with your clit.

His cock pops out of your mouth with little resistance as your body goes slack with pleasure. You're just licking at his dick with a loose hand at this point, eyes rolling back from ecstasy. 

You whimper against the slickness of his sloppy mouth, drool continuing to fall out of the corners of your mouth through your slurred speech. “Ngh—No—Let me—Fuck—Jakeeee—” you try to say, but it all sounds nonsensical.

Jake understands, more than you know, as his heart constricts so deliciously. 'My poor baby,' he thinks. Just wants to make him feel good. Wants to make it up to him so bad. But you don’t know that the only thing that could make him happy right now is for you to choke him out with your sopping cunt. 

“Mmm—Ngh—Ahh—” He’s too good down there. Too fucking messy. Why does he do this? Why does he love making you sound like a fucking animal? Your toes curl, the grip around his shaft tightening as your back arches even more into him. 

You feel it. But it's different from usual. It feels like too much. Like an impending explosion. You claw at his thigh even more, all of a sudden panicked. “Jake—Let go—Jake—” 

When he shakes his head, his tongue swipes your clit left and right. His grip on your ass pushes his nose more deeply into your soaked folds. You whimper, cheek nuzzling against his length in desperation. 

“I'm serious….” you whine as you try to pull away. This is weird. You feel weird. You try to run away from it, that foreign feeling. But it's no use. Jake's too smart, too quick. He presses you down on him harder, hugging your waist, suctioning your clit, cheeks flushed from how quickly his mouth works against you. 

“JAKE!” you scream as your thighs clamp around him, hips shuddering uncontrollably. Like a hose turning on for the first time, a spray of your juices lands onto Jake's chin and neck, coating him in your dampness. He welcomes it, tongue sticking out to taste as much of it as he can.

You cry above him, tears landing on his dick that still rubs against your heated face. He laps up every last remaining bit of your climax desperately, like they’d dry up too quickly if he didn’t. You whine, grinding yourself on him to steady your heart rate. When he’s fully satisfied, Jake frees you from his clutches, lying you down on the bed so your head can finally rest on a pillow.

His cock is still incredibly stiff. And you're still in tears.

“You… fucking… dick,” you say in between sniffles, not believing you could ever climax that hard in your life. “Where the fuck did you learn how to do that?”

And he knows what’s going through your head. Because old habits do, in fact, die hard. And now you probably think he was out fucking anyone and everyone during the weeks-long hell that was your breakup. Jake chuckles, pulling your skirt down. He bites his bottom lip at the sight of your folds. Glistening with his saliva and your juices. He fists himself tightly. 

“Still so jealous, baby?” He smirks. God, please let him indulge in his pouty girlfriend at least once more.

“No, but be honest,” you mumble. “Did you—”

“Fuck other girls?” he finishes your sentence, scoffing playfully at the ridiculousness. Your eyes narrow.

“Well, did you?”

Jake spent almost every day crying, unblocking and blocking your number over and over again just to see if you'd notice. But he can tell you all that later. Because right now, you're giving him a death glare that only makes his cock throb harder. 

“No, babe,” he mutters, swiping his wet tip against your even more drenched folds. So puffy after all he's put it through. He peppers kisses on your shoulder. “You know I’d never.”

And you do. He’s only ever been with you. Will only ever be with you. You know that. But still. The wheels are already turning in your head. You know… you're usually the one worried about these things. Doesn't he deserve a taste of his own medicine?

“Imagine if I did—”

And he slams his dick into your plushness, eliciting a scream from you. He doesn’t even let you complete your evil plan.

“FUCK—”

“Don't finish that sentence,” Jake glowers, brows furrowed. You lick your lips deliciously. "That's not funny."

“See how it feels?” you whimper, as he delivers another harsh thrust, your shirt riding up your stomach from the impact. You arch your back off of the bed as Jake groans into your neck, licking a stripe up your jaw.

“All this just ‘cause I made you squirt,” he mumbles angrily, wincing as your pulsing walls squeeze his length into a tighter grip. “So fucking immature.”

You chuckle evilly. “Immature like who? Sungho—”

His childhood friend’s name doesn't even leave your lips when Jake clamps his teeth into your neck. Hard. “OW—”

A taste of your own medicine. But his skin grazes something then—a thin chain that he's seen before but never questioned.  You never wore it when you fucked. A circular hardness underneath your shirt that weirdly looks like…

He tugs on it before you can protest, and there on the chain is a ring. With J engraved on the inside. His gaze softens. And you become a blumbering mess underneath him, shy with embarrassment. “I can—Explain—Just—” 

Jake pulls out enough so his tip is the only thing suctioned in your folds before pistoning into you harshly once more. You whimper.

“Shut up and let me fuck you,” he mutters into your ear, before engulfing your lips in his. With a newfound energy, Jake pounds into you with urgency, pace brutal against your already sore pussy. His hand comes up to grab your tits, spilling over your bra from the impact of his movements. So rough. So mean. Damn, you were rubbing off on him.

You have this aching desire to flip him over and ride him back into submission, but the slapping of his hips into yours devolves your thoughts into unintelligible moans. 

“Ngah—Fuck—Oh my god—”

Jake’s mouth leaves yours as his eyes travel downwards to the piece of jewelry. He likes how it looks on you. Sitting so nice between your bouncing breasts. Maybe, he’d buy you a necklace next. A pretty Tiffany necklace to go with the pretty Tiffany ring on his pretty girlfriend’s pretty finger. Fuck. You’re so fucking pretty.

He brings the ring up to his mouth, biting down on the metal, before he lowers himself onto your lips once more. With the ring in between his teeth, he grabs at your jaw to open for him. Jake transfers it over to your parted lips as you catch the ring with your tongue, coated in his saliva. He dives down into you, your tongues battling as the coolness of the metal moves between your mouths. His thrusts are slower now, but you moan just the same.

Drool drips down both of your lips, the ring getting passed between you two in the movements of your open-mouthed kisses. He lets up, the necklace falling wetly onto the pillow. He admires the red marks the chain leaves on your neck. Maybe a Tiffany choker instead?

And his thrusts deepen, until your cervix repeatedly kisses his mushroom tip. He wished you could see your expression right now. So needy. So perfect. 

“Jake—Baby—” When the pet name leaves your lips, Jake lets out a deep, guttural groan. Like he'd been waiting his whole life for you to say it.

“Yes, baby?” He repeats after you, sweat beading down his forehead as he continues to split you open, pumping into your tightness with urgency. His hands are pushing your thighs open now, admiring how the ring sits sloppily on your neck as he jackhammers into you.

“I love you,” you moan out, your hands reaching for his face. “I love you so much.”

He looks at you with glassy eyes, soft and tender. He kissed you again, sweeter this time. 

“I love you too.” 

And he spreads you apart further, fucking you into the squeaking mattress with his pulsing dick, so big that it fills you everywhere you need him. He pushes in and out, evoking a new set of tears to stain your cheeks. “Baby,” you cry out. “I'm almost—”

“Wait for me,” he pleads, elbows falling to the sides of your head. He buries himself in the crook of your neck. “Can you, baby? Please—”

You try to nod as he's ramming into you as deep as he can go. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear, about how good you are for him, how pretty, how perfect, how he loves the marks you leave him, how he wants you to control him, how you’re the only one he’d ever be with in any lifetime ever.

“Ngh—” His hips snap forward with everything he can give. He feels it now, too. That coil that threatens to spill inside you. But he can't. No condom. No birth control. 

And when your hips rise, clenching around him, your orgasm hits you like a truck. You mewl out in pleasure, crying as Jake tries to pull out of you. But you suction him so well, too well, that it's a little too late. He twitches deep inside of your pussy. And his mouth falls open as the first spurts of cum spill, but nothing escapes his lips. 

“Fuck, baby,” he whines. He needs to pull out. But your cunt feels so damn good… So warm… So wet… And so much of himself has already spilled inside you… It's okay, right? To fill you up with all of it? But he has self-control. He swears it.

“No…” You whimper when he actually pulls away, his seed dribbling everywhere.

“...’m sorry, babe,” he groans, as his hand wraps around himself, stroking languidly. “I’m so sorry.”

Jake’s cheeks are flushed as he pumps the remainder of his climax on your drenched folds, painting your clit a milky white. He sees the first of his juices push out of you, his fluids like cream all over your puffiness.

“Fuck,” he moans, his fingers coming up to spread it all across your folds. But when you look down, all you feel is empty. All you feel is the need to push down against his fingers and take him all over again. 

Jake's eyes widen as he lets out a shaky breath. You look so desperate. For what? He's not sure. But he can't deny his baby anything. He can't deny himself either. He wants to see it just once. Seems like you do too. 

“Can I?” he asks in a low whisper, fingers spreading your folds apart to watch more of his load seep out of you. And you nod, shyly, relieved you didn’t have to beg for it yourself, already going through too much exposure therapy for one day.

And so Jake gathers the cum that's gushed over his digits, and with a shaky breath, he pushes them back into you. You tighten your grip on his biceps.

“Fuuuuck—” You cry out when he starts pumping them in and out, slow but still so fucking deep. His veiny fingers always know which parts to knead. 

Jake’s eyes are in a daze, obsessed with how his cum goes back in so easily—even when you’re still so tight and so sensitive. Everything feels so fucking drenched. And like this, he wants to see you come undone again.

“One more, baby…” he pleads in a low whisper, pressing butterfly kisses on your eyelids. He licks the tears that spill from your eyes. So pretty like this. “You want to make it up to me, right?”

You can only whine in response, hands shaking as they clutch onto him for dear life. 

“Hm?” He asks for confirmation, curling his fingers up to the spongy spot inside you. He grinds his palm on your engorged clit. Whimpering out a pathetic ‘yes,’ you let the pleasure overtake you once again. Your body feels like it's on fire. Too hot. Too much. But still, your back arches up into him, whimpering.

“Come on,” he whispers into your ear. Low and steady. “Give it to me.”

And you can practically hear the mess that his three fingers are creating as they pump into your folds, can feel the stickiness of your mixed juices coat your inner walls. But you shut your eyes, letting the warm tingling overtake your core. Yes—Right there—Fuck—

“I'M—” you screech, but it's no use. Your head falls back against the pillow as you sob. And Jake curses underneath his breath as you spray all over him once again, massaging your clit as he pulls his fingers out to watch. Your hips rise to meet nothing, just your body spraying so beautifully against his torso. His dick could harden once more any second now from the sight. He relishes in it, admiring his work as his cum pushes out of you again. Thick and creamy.

You look down too, seeing the fucked-out state he's put your body into. Maybe you would've been right to flick his forehead and call him every insult in the book for filling you up like that. But fuck. Could you ever have him cum outside of you again if it felt that good to have his cum inside you? No, you'd definitely need to get on the pill ASAP.

Jake’s gaze falls onto your face now, at your bruised lips and your dried tears. But the ring catches his eye once more, the one he hadn’t seen in a year. And his heart flutters.

“Babe?” he starts, lying softly next to you. He wraps you in his arms, not minding the dampness of the sheets below. He’ll clean you up later.

“Mmm?” You respond, on the brink of unconsciousness. Satiated. He touches your chain, the other hand wrapped around your stomach, giving a reassuring squeeze.

“How long have you been wearing our ring like this?” Your breath catches. You'd hoped that he'd forgotten, that the conversation could wait for the morning when your heart wasn't thumping so loud. It takes you a second before you respond.

“Since you gave it to me,” you admit, slowly. Jake can feel the warmth creep up to your ears. And he wonders how he's never seen it, how you seem to hide it so well after all the times he's undressed you before. But then again, you’ve always been good at keeping secrets.

Still, he smiles. Because even after you walked away, even when you said you were done, you still kept this piece of him. Wore it so beautifully around your neck, too.

Fuck—he’s never letting you walk out on him like that again. If you even hint at breaking up, he might actually end up begging on his knees and—

“Not like it matters anyway,” you cut through the silence grumpily. “You threw yours away.”

He lets out a surprised laugh and pulls you closer, squeezing you tight. You pout. What’s he so jolly for?

“What do you mean?” he asks cheekily. “That never happened.”

You turn around abruptly, facing him with furrowed brows. “I literally saw you—”

Your words are cut short when his mouth finds yours, one hand steadies your jaw as the other reaches blindly into his nightstand. A drawer opens. He pulls back just enough to show you the turquoise box, one eerily similar to the one you have in your closet, as he flips it open.

His ring. Silver and engraved with your initial. But how…?

“I guess I'm really good at pretending to throw things,” he answers before you can even ask. Thought I’d be a little dramatic that day…”

You smack his shoulder, but your hand massages the spot soon after, swallowed by the wave of relief that crashes over you. He didn't really let go like he made it seem. He was still yours, even when you thought you lost him. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” you grumble, pinching his cheek. All he does is chuckle. 

In one smooth motion, Jake lifts your necklace and unclasps it, letting the ring unfurl out and into his palm. You don’t stop him. 

He looks at you for a second, as if asking for permission. You offer Jake your hand instead of speaking. He slips the piece of jewelry onto your ring finger, kissing your knuckles. Then he slides his own ring back where it belongs, to where he’s always kept it. Jake smiles up at you, planting another sweet kiss on your lips.

And you know you’ll wear it proudly this time. Without him having to ask. 

“I love you?” he says, gently, like he needs to hear you say it back just one more time. Just to make sure. And you kiss him again, warmth coating your features.

“I love you too.”

His heart clenches in the best way possible.

Damn, he could really get used to this.

–

epilogue

Jake runs to the benches, grabbing at his water bottle like it’s his last salvation. He gulps it all down in seconds, sweat seeping down his body. Practice was way too intense today.

“Oh my god, Jakey,” a lilting voice punctures through his ear. “You're literally dripping.”

His eye twitches as she enunciates the last word. 

“Choa,” he starts, shooting daggers at her. He's too exhausted to put up with this today. Or ever. She was graduating in a few months anyway. He might as well say his piece. “First of all, my name is Jake. And second of all, it makes me really uncomfortable when you say things like that.”

Choa pouts, tugging his sleeve like a toddler. “Why?” she giggles. “Do I make you nervous?”

“No.” He pulls away, not even bothering to look at her. “I just don't appreciate how you talk to me.”

She glowers, thrown off by his disposition. He's usually so sweet, so polite. What happened?

“It's ‘cause of your friend isn't it? You know she was so fucking rude to me—”

“My girlfriend,” he corrects immediately. Choa’s hands drop down to her sides. Jake pays her no mind, packing his stuff into his duffle bag instead.

“W-what?” she stutters out. “Since when?”

He shrugs, finally slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Since forever.”

“What?!” she screeches. “How come you never told—”

“Oh Jakeyyyy,” you sing out in an octave higher than your regular speaking voice. He presses his lips together to prevent the laughter that almost seeps through his mouth.

“Yeah, babe?” He calls out, looking past Choa. You're standing with your arms crossed, eyeing her down from a few meters away. A bright new necklace shining above your shirt. 

Your gaze flickers back to him, not bothering to waste your precious energy on the small, vicious girl. You tilt your head to the side, beckoning him over in a silent command. And he follows.

Your loyal little puppy.

Jake takes your hands into his just to really rub salt on Choa's wound, your matching rings clinking against each other.

“Do you remember Gaeul from the backstage crew?” you announce proudly, the bob-headed girl long-forgotten. “She wants to hang out with me tomorrow!”

Jake smiles, ruffling your hair. “That’s great!”

“She's throwing something at her apartment this weekend, too,” you slide in. “Maybe… we can go together?”

“Oh yeah, Suji told me—” And he stops himself. But it’s too late. You’re already frowning.

“Okay, so let me go ahead and take Jay instead…” And he pouts at your words.

“Not fair,” he mutters, but you see the smile he suppresses. 'What a freak,' you think to yourself.

You click your tongue, squeezing his hand a little tighter. “...I'm biting the shit out of you later.”

And if Jake had a tail, it most definitely would’ve started wagging.

“Promise?”

fin.

–

A/N: Don't save him, he don't wanna be saved.

Taglist: @missoxy @cutehoons02 @zohaaz @f4loveex @rianzysworld @tinastar13 @woniewonwon @starfallia @liaviva @lhspeachie @fancypeacepersona @sanasour @reasonablyminiatureandroid @tinyhrry @nyxphobia @aernx @soulskiu @shining-won @esoteric-eye @yohanabanana @jungwongfs-blog @starjoongie @yeeunlvr @gyu-luvs @ikeuster @not-aya @ppeachyttae @psyches-reid @moonxiiey @hueningsgirl @sylphjeong @mariegibeau @beaepa @jisiziu @aloveminsalade @ilovetimotheechalamet8 @vixensss @chyshiacat @chuuiehearts @heyinnnn @sparkcling @moonstrucksofie @snghon @nct-sticker-127 @fdzvie @synielve @honeyyjw @simj4k3 @petalsofink @axfyl

[hoonieangel]

peak

[nephynes]

STOP PUTTING THE ANGST TAG IN YOUR WORK IF THERE’S NO ANGST IN IT!! why am i searching for angst and seeing yn getting fucked in the forest instead of finding out xyz dated her for a bet?!

[uniicorns-arereall]

you know what, fuck it be free, keep reading that bad fan fiction, keep writing that bad fanfiction, keep using y/n, keep staying up to 4 a.m reading x reader, to be cringe is too be free

(just NO a.i)

[rikivsco]

Idk if your doing requests but I was wondering if you could do angst like idol niki or any enha member x non idol reader and he goes onto a show or smth and flirts with the girl mc of thw show and they get shipped and then like he starts being cold and really dry to the reader in texts and person and they argue about it and he says something really really crazy to her like in a rude way and she starts crying and leaves and yeaa the rest is up to you!!sorry I wrote sm I feel like a yapper🥲

(also they keep their relationship secret for the enha members career)

THE GREATEST ✶ PARK SUNGHOON

𝕰𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐋 : "just wanted passion from you, just wanted what i gave you…”

박성훈 x fem!reader ✶ 2.9 angst, fluff?, hidden relationship, idol hoon, cursing (音楽の合図)

note 。 anon u must know i live for angst cause this prompt is EVERYTHING hopefully it was what u wanted!

it felt almost comical seeing your boyfriend laugh for the nth time on your tiny tv screen. your coworkers all around you, murmuring about how handsome he looked, how good the chemistry was between him and his cohost. you couldn’t even deny it, as much as you wanted to, that the chemistry between them was palpable.

like any other friday, your coworkers would turn on music bank to watch their favorite groups perform and their favorite idols mc; on any other friday, you were always snickering under your breath hearing your peers fawn over the man on the screen knowing you were the only one that got to sleep with him at night.

that being said, this wasn’t like any other friday. you weren’t normally the jealous type; you were secure in your relationship with sunghoon, despite him wanting your relationship to stay between the two of you (for your protection, of course).

you met very late at night at the convenience store ten minutes out from his company building. he joined you after watching you at the window table eating ramen like there was no tomorrow, and around a month after that first meeting, he asked you to be his girlfriend. that was around eight months ago now, so when you say you’re secure in your relationship, you meant it.

and for the past eight months, sunghoon has been nothing short of perfect. you never tried to bother him much, knowing how busy he got. he was always gentle and caring with you in return, so your relationship grew into a more domestic kind of love.

there was nothing to complain about, really. that was until around a month ago.

sunghoon had been preparing strenuously for his new position as a music bank mc, and because of that, his hours got longer, his work doubled, and his time with you lessened.

you really tried not to care, just focused on your work instead of his, because that’s how he preferred it. you just couldn’t help but feel off when you would receive dry messages and one word answers on phone calls all the time.

it didn’t help that his first day on the job led to tons of dating rumors between him and his cohost. who likes seeing their boyfriend be happy with everyone but them?

“did sunghoon just say she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen? he wasn’t even looking at his script-- it’s like he wants dating rumors!” that alone snapped you out of your thoughts. they were right; he was barely looking at his script.

“yah, shouldn’t you be working?” you said as you turned back to your laptop. you heard your coworker sigh, leaning against your cubicle wall. “you’ve been like this since the new mc’s starting hosting… are you just sad your favorite idol has a new girlfriend now?”

you felt your heart pick up, but you let out a snicker to mask it. “what are you talking about mina? i think i’ve been like this since you started playing a music show at your office job.”

“did you see the picture that just came out?”

“...what picture?”

“the picture of sunghoon out with his new girlfriend? i thought you liked him…? wait-- do you even like idols like that?--”

“show me the picture, mina.” she hesitated at your change in tone, but she pulled out her phone anyways. turning her screen to you after a few moments of looking, you saw a very clear picture of him and his mc partner at dinner together. by themselves. he was laughing brightly and feeding her a piece of food.

“when was this?” you heard mina gulp at your sudden interest, “two nights ago? do you actually have a crush on him, y/n--”

“no.” you handed her back her phone and turned back to your laptop. “get back to work, mina.”

“okay mom…” you heard her say before turning around and walking away. “weird…”

. . .

“y/n? what are you doing here? you know you can’t be here.” he looked around the hallway before gently pulling you inside. “i know, i know. i just really needed to talk to you, you know, about what's been going on recently?”

after work, you decided to take matters into your own hands. it was a risk going to sunghoon’s dorm when the sun was still up, but it was a risk you were willing to take.

he sighed deeply as he turned to walk towards the living room, leaving you to take your shoes off at the door.

“alright. jay, heeseung and sunoo are out and jungwon is at the company so we’re good for a little while. jake and ni-ki are gaming inside though, so lets just try to keep it down, yeah?”

usually you wouldn’t question it, but you were starting to since he seemed so okay with going out with his mc partner in public…

you set your bag down on the coffee table wordlessly opting to sit next to him on the couch, looking anywhere but at him. it was clear you weren’t in your right mind; your posture was perfect and you were rubbing your sweaty palms against your work slacks. usually, sunghoon would pick that up, but this time, he was just looking at the ground with his elbows resting on his knees.

if someone were to walk in, they would think you two were at a business meeting with how rigid you guys were.

“where were you two nights ago?” he stiffened at your soft voice.

“i was out.”

you looked at him now, your eyes hardening at his vague response. you quickly pulled out your phone and pulled up the picture, before throwing it in sunghoon’s lap. “yeah i fucking know you were out, hoon.”

he flinched at the contact, picking it up to look at it in detail. he groaned while putting your phone on the coffee table.

“this is what your here for? it was nothing, y/n. i thought you weren’t like that.”

“i’m not “‘like that”’ unless you give me a reason to be-- i mean why the fuck are you feeding her food in the first place?” he leaned back on the couch, looking almost bored of the conversation now. “she couldn’t pick up the meat properly so i just did it for her.”

your eyes widened at his shamelessness. “am i a fucking joke to you, sunghoon?” he groaned again, rubbing his hands over his face. “you know you’re not a joke to me, babe, it was a harmless dinner. our managers were there, they just left early.”

“so why didn’t you guys leave with them?”

silence hit him. for some reason, he couldn’t think of anything to say. you got the hint though, and you felt sick. your eyes started to water quickly.

“you fucking liked it, didn’t you?” you heard him sigh as you stood up from the couch. “be honest sunghoon, you went on a date with another girl, and you liked it?”

“it wasn’t a fucking date, y/n--”

“is that why you want me to be kept secret so bad? so you can go out with whoever and not have a girlfriend on your conscience?”

“i’m doing this for you!” you flinched as he stood to tower over you. that was the first time he ever raised his voice at you. “you think i want to deal with your shit and be private at the same time? you don’t think i’m dealing with enough right now? i’m doing this because i have to, so don’t say dumb shit like that, y/n.”

“how do you expect me to think you’re serious about me when you can’t even bring me around your dorm?”

“you knew what you got into when you got into this relationship.”

“and i dealt with it. but how does hiding me from your own members help either of us? and now this? going out in public with your work partner-- feeding her food-- how are you hiding me “because you have to” after all that?” your breathing was heavy as you sobbed, looking at the ground. sunghoon was silent, but it was clear he was heated.

“how can i even… reassure myself that you still love me if you’re out with other people and keeping me hidden?”

sunghoon’s shoulders dropped.

“y/n, i’m so tired. i’m tired of this job, i’m tired of these accusations, and i’m so tired of your stupid insecurities being projected onto me. i don’t have the energy to reassure you, okay? if you think i don’t love you anymore then so fucking be it. i just want you to leave me alone and let me deal with my own shit-- it’s draining, to be as honest as i can, since that’s all you fucking want from me these days.”

the silence that fell after that was… heavy. he regretted it the second his heavy breaths settled into the tension.

your reaction didn’t help either.

you were at a loss for words; your eyes were wide and glassy, mouth slightly agape. your previous sobs came to a halt when he first said it.

if you think i don’t love you anymore then so be it. you did think it, so he did feel it.

you looked down, nodding to yourself as your tears started to fall to the ground instead of your cheeks. if you think i don’t love you anymore then so be it.

“then so be it, sunghoon.” you wiped a stray tear away as you reached for your things on the coffee table. your previous sadness was so quickly replaced with emptiness, you didn't even know how to process it all. and sunghoon, your once lovesick boyfriend that never even dreamt of saying what he said to you, was at a loss himself.

he didn’t mean it-- any of it, he didn’t mean for things to get this bad, but he himself started to lose his grip on his balance between you and work. his adamance on you staying hidden was draining enough, but he was doing it for you-- or at least that’s what he’s been telling himself.

you couldn’t understand why you had to be hidden from his members too, but you were starting to realize it was because he was afraid that in doing so, you would be real. it was so clear to you now, he was just pushing you away before things got too real, but like him, you were tired too.

the front door opened as you put your shoes on. heeseung, jay, and sunoo froze at the door as they watched you look at them and bow, before sliding past them to go home. the air inside was extremely tense as sunghoon collapsed back onto the couch, his hands rubbing his face in distress.

“uh-- why was there a girl crying in our living room? do you… know her?” heeseung got no response for a minute as the rest of them continued to come inside and settle in.

“she’s my girlfriend.” he heard sunoo spit out the water he was about to drink and jay drop four shopping bags from across the hall. “or-- she was. i fucked up so bad.”

. . .

that night was one of the worst nights of your life. you cried so hard you passed out at four in the morning and you couldn’t open your eyes properly when you woke up. you had to call in sick because your head was pounding and your nose was so clogged you were breathing through your mouth.

you knew sunghoon wouldn’t even have the time to check in on you, and he certainly hasn’t given you a call or a text. not that you would want one-- no, you blocked him the second you left. he was already gone before you had even confronted him about the whole thing anyways. you did wonder what the others thought when you walked in though... maybe sunghoon told them you were a stalker, or maybe that you were his old figure skating friend.

it had been a week since the argument, and you were already learning the hard way that the world doesn’t stop when you’re going through something.

you had just gotten back from a run to clear your head after work, because “out of sight, out of mind” was becoming your new motto. it was starting to become familiar to you, the phrase, until your doorbell rang right as you stepped out the shower.

honestly, the last person you expected to show up at your door was sunghoon. hell, you even expected mina to show up before him-- but to your surprise, sunghoon stood tall in front of you, holding three big gift bags and a flower bouquet.

you didn’t even know how to react, your eyes were wide as you looked up at the boy, who was nothing short of nervous.

“can i… come in?” you barely heard him. his voice was so quiet and gentle that the aircon was almost louder than him. you were seriously debating on if you should because even if it was almost a week ago, his words ran deep. ultimately, your body reacted faster than your brain did, stepping out of the way to make the entrance clear. you heard him release a strangled breath, like it was something he had been holding for years.

he carefully placed the gift bags on your dining table before turning back to you with the large bouquet in hand. he was staring at the flowers, shaking a bit.

“i don’t… expect you to forgive me…” he drew in a deep breath, before looking into your eyes. “but if we’re going to end, let’s end right.”

for some reason, that broke your heart. for the past week, you were so adamant on ignoring the situation overall that you didn’t think about the status of your relationship after everything. facing the reality that maybe things won’t be the same… it made you feel sick. sunghoon continued before you could respond.

“i want to start by saying that i’m sorry. bare minimum, yes, but you deserve that at least--”

his words caught in his throat as you gently took a hand that was holding the bouquet to guide him to the couch. you sat down quickly after, patiently looking up at him to sit beside you. you looked like an angel on earth to him, really. he too, felt his body move before his brain did as he sat down with the bouquet still held tightly.

“what i did was… unforgivable. to be honest with you, i didn’t think anything of it because i would never even think to choose another person over you. that dinner felt like nothing to me, because i was just thinking about how she wasn’t you the whole time.” he sighed, holding the bouquet to his lap now.

“i don’t even know why i got so defensive… i just had a two hour meeting before you came that day-- about everything happening right now. maybe having another talk about it set me off. that isn’t an excuse, but it’s context, i guess.”

you could tell he was starting to word vomit now, but you continued to listen patiently.

“honestly y/n, its been rough, these past few weeks. i couldn’t even look past all that and see how hard you’ve been trying for me. how many times you’ve made meals for me, or sent me coffee. this whole week without made me realize this might’ve been a fraction of what you’ve been feeling like this whole month… i’m just… so deeply sorry for making you feel like that.”

he finally looked up to see your eyes watering as you listened silently. and as if he couldn’t help it, he let go of the bouquet to wipe a stray tear from your cheek.

“I’m drowning all the time, y/n, but you? you’re my breath of fresh air. you’re the reason why i try so hard to swim back up to the surface.” you started to fully cry now, and you could feel sunghoon gently pulling you into his chest.

“i tried to keep you at a distance so i didn’t pull you down with me, baby,” he murmured into your hair. “when we first started dating, i brought up the idea to the members and they were… really against it. they really got in my head about involving others into my personal life because of how intense it can get. honestly, i still agree with them.”

your cries died down, hiccups and sniffles being the only sounds coming from you as you listened intently against his chest. it was nice, his heartbeat never jumped when he talked. just a soothing, steady rhythm.

“and after you left that night, i told them everything. i realized that it’s not fair to you, being left behind to the closet people to me.” there he goes again, speaking softer than the air around him. “i do love you, y/n. i love you more than anything.”

at that, he felt your arms wrapped around his waist tighten, then relax. after a minute of silence, he craned his neck to the side to see your face buried in his chest, eyes closed.

to be fully honest, you haven’t slept properly in days. sunghoon somehow always had that affect on you: his soft voice that he reserves only for you, his calm breathing in contrast to your constant anxious state, and his scent that always smelled like home to you… it almost made you forget the whole thing.

you knew you weren’t going to leave, but you also knew it wasn’t going to be the same, either. there was some trust you had to rebuild, some new friends you had to make. you both knew it wasn’t going to be easy.

he chuckled at your cheek squished against his chest and kiss your head, before laying you back with him on the couch.

honestly, rebuilding seems like a tomorrow problem. you were going to stay here for now, at the safest place where you know you could be.

a/n: yes i know the ending is ahh im trying to get this out before finals week

taglist! ✶ @wonsoire @wmyoons @newmjri @taetaewonwon @jaerisdiction @kikidoul @flowerstaesan @cripplinghooman @staarflowerr @rr1ks

[hoonieangel]

this was so good, gut wrenching and sad. i love 🤍

[solonenova]

ICE CREAM IS MY WITNESS | enhypen smau

PAIRING ✧˖° ot7 x female reader

SYNOPSIS ✧˖° the question of the day is to eat a gallon of ice cream in one sitting or to NOT eat a gallon of ice cream in one sitting..? [crack & fluff. pretend typos are on purpose😛.]

contents: profanity; weed consumption; kys/kms jokes; violent jokes; suggestive jokes; ni-ki is obsessed w milk; sunghoon is obsessed w yn; mentions of breast milk (idek bruh lmaoo); mingyu from seventeen is mentioned as well;

notes; hi hi hi !! i changed my pfp RAHHHH. this is so random & weird but i got this idea from some tiktok i saw a while ago, and i wanted to leave the link here, but i cannot find it for the life of meee😭. but fun fact, for my entire life up until i turned 16, i only drank almond milk. but then out of nowhere, my mom started buying cow milk bc she thought i needed more calcium, and i would sit down & drink these big glasses of milk for the love of the game😼. but then fast forward four years later… earlier this year i found out i’m actually fucking allergic to cow milk… anywayz, after my finals suck the life out of me, i was thinking of doing smau oneshot requests😱😱😱. since i have christmas break coming up pretty soon. and as always, thank you for reading lovely people tehehe!

[solonenova library ❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･]

perm taglist: @thisisnotjacinta @rikisonline @wensurr

© 2025 solonenova. all rights reserved.

[desirehee-deactivated20260102]

closer | p.sh

after moving out of your home, your new neighbor seems too close for comfort, you don't seem to mind it though. ㅤꨄ︎

🗡: yandere!p.sh x reader

cw: slowburn (?) , masturbation, oral (m receiving), stalking, manipulation, dacryphilia, fingering, 3 year age gap, size kink, webcam hacking, deranged sunghoon, (sorry if i missed anything)

wc: 5019

🗡 best read in goth rave theme

you had enough. your house was pure evil. they treated you like a weapon, something to extract money out of. to brag about.

so, you moved out. the logical thing to do...right?

3pm.

you were moving into the high-rise apartments near your college. you planned this out since you were a literal child. that's how bad it had gotten.

arriving at the entry desk, the receptionist handed you your apartment keys, with a dull face. "here's your keys, ma'am." you'd smile, fairly excited to live alone.

going up the elevator, you felt a bit uneasy. everything was so new to you, so you guessed it was normal to feel that way.

the elevator doors opened with a slow buzzing sound to the 7th floor, and you were greeted with a mere 2 doors facing the elevator.

house 702. that was yours. you'd be excited, because the apartment was compact but big enough for 2 people, just how you liked it. it wasn't spacious enough to make you feel like you're being watched.

7pm.

you spent around 4 hours setting up your apartment, well most of it anyway. most of the rooms were filled with boxes that you had to throw out.

you really craved something to eat, so you'd go out of the apartment planning to head to the convenience store nearby.

until you were met with your neighbor also exiting his apartment. you hadn't seen him before, but he looked like a greek god. literally.

your eyes met, and time seemed to stop for a moment. his heart started pounding, you looked like someone. someone he knew, cherished, worshipped. but you were a stranger, it was impossible.

you'd avert your eyes from his gaze first, and head to the elevator and press the down button. his gaze would travel down your body, as if memorizing every detail of you.

he stepped forward to the elevator too, and broke the deafening silence first, "you just moved in?" he'd speak while looking at you, and you'd turn your head towards him slightly. "yeah, just today." he'd nod in approval. "i'm sunghoon. park sunghoon. you?" your heart would beat, even his name sounded majestic. "y/n l/n." he'd nod again.

the elevator arrived with a ding, and both of you stepped in. the tension was suffocating. it was so awkward. but sunghoon didn't feel that way.

instead, he looked at everything you had. your wallet was stuffed away in your back pocket of your sweatpants, and your phone seemed new.

"if you ever need any help you can knock on my door, okay?" he'd speak again, making you break out of your thoughts. you'd nod at him, a little too eagerly, which he found cute. "yeah, i will."

8pm.

you were coming back to your apartment.

but something felt off.

you were being watched.

you'd look around the apartment's lobby, only the sounds of the receptionist dozing off and the wind blowing from outside.

until you saw someone peeking out from the stairs.

someone faceless. the person's entire face was covered, and hair, and body.

you felt your heart jump out of your chest, and just as the elevator arrived, you ran in and clicked the close button quickly.

you'd let out a gasp when the faceless figure ran to the elevator and pounded on it just as it closed.

fuck, this was a mistake. you shouldn't have moved out, never. you should have just stayed in that house for another year until college started. you'd hyperventilate, and click the button for the 4th floor as a fake, to distract the person while you ran up the stairs from the 4th floor to the 7th floor.

you'd bang on sunghoon's door, screaming. "sunghoon!! it's y/n!! help me!!" the door would open with a click, to reveal sunghoon slightly disheveled, and out of breath, but you couldn't focus on that right now. he was shirtless, and his sweatpants hung low.

"are you okay? what's up?" he'd ask innocently. and you'd start tearing up, "i-i'm being chased- stalked. help me, please." his eyes would widen, and he'd quickly let you into his apartment despite yours being right next to his.

he felt guilty, honestly. he felt bad to make such a pretty thing like you so scared on your first day of freedom. well, not freedom anymore. you were his, officially. you didn't know that, but he did. he'd do anything to keep you, to cherish you, to worship you.

you'd cry into his arms while he rubbed your hair slightly, holding you like he'd known you forever. you felt embarrassed, to cry into a guy's chest you met one hour ago.

he loved it though. he loved knowing you were so easy to break, so easy to make scared, so easy to manipulate and hold.

honestly, he felt bad that he had to make you run like that, what if you fell down the stairs? he would've hated himself for it.

"f-fuck, i'm sorry. i'm just really scared." you'd break away from the hug and look up at him with teary eyes, and that made his dick twitch. and heart too, he guessed.

he'd smile slightly, "it's okay, y/n. anyone would be. did you see who it was?" you'd shake your head, just the mention of that person making your heart beat faster. "t-they were faceless, they were wearing full black, it seemed like a monster, sunghoon. i'm scared."

he'd pretend to feel bad, "it's okay, you're with me now, you're safe. he won't get to you."

he? you never mentioned the gender, you didn't know either. but you didn't think much of it, he must've been assuming, anyway.

he'd lead you to his couch, and you'd sit there, taking in the apartment. it was minimalistic, full of blacks, greys, whites and browns. it was nice, honestly. it felt calming.

he was in his open kitchen, taking out some gummy bears from the cabinet, and handing them to you, "do you like candy?" he'd smile, "it helps calm people." you'd nod, and take the packet from his warm, big, veiny ha- no, his hands. that's all.

your hands touched, and it sent a shiver down your spine. your hands were so delicate and sweet compared to his.

he'd sit down on the couch next to you, looking at you eating the gummies one by one, cherishing the taste.

he caught a glimpse of your tongue, and he felt so perverted getting turned on by you eating gummies.

"you can stay the night if you want, i don't mind. i have an extra room." you'd look at him, this wasn't a good idea, you knew it. this is how people get killed in horror movies, but he felt trustworthy, he felt nice.

you'd nod slowly, agreeing to staying with him for the night. and he'd smile.

he wasn't going to do anything to you, not yet, at least. you were being obedient, just as he wanted.

honestly, you needed a shower, but you were too scared of being in your apartment for now, so you asked him to accompany you to your apartment to shower, but he'd say no, "you can shower here. i can come with you to get your clothes, but don't be in your apartment for too long." he was right, you couldn't stay for too long, so you both would retrieve some clothes and a towel from your apartment, and you'd head off to shower in the bathroom.

you felt icky after what happened earlier, like you needed to wash the memories off. the remnants of the chase clung to you like a leech.

you'd slowly take your clothes off, leaving you in your underwear and bra. you were proud of your figure to be honest, you maintained it just the way you wanted it to.

you'd take your underwear and bra too, and put it in the laundry basket, by habit. but he had agreed to put it in the washing machine for you.

the warm water erupted from the shower head like a volcano, just as hot as you wanted it. you felt ten times better, you felt more relaxed.

sunghoon was in his living room, his right leg shaking up and down. you were bare and vulnerable in his shower. in his house.

he was someone who the residency loved, he was a good, respectable man who helped everyone. he was perfect, in almost every way.

except just one. he loved, he yearned. yearned for people he couldn't have, and pushed them away when he did. he hated it, he knew it was because of his childhood, because he was neglected and never given the loved he deserved, even until now, he didn't actually ever get proper love. every girl he dated only dated him because of his big dick and looks, not his personality.

he'd thought that pretty privilege would let him have someone who was obsessed with him entirely, but here he was. he's the one who yearns, and obsesses.

very rarely, though. no one ever meets his expectations, but when you came to his apartment after he said you could come to him for help, meant that you thought about him, the first thing you thought about when you were getting chased was safety, and you went to him, that meant he was safety to you, right? obviously, there's no other explanation to it.

and when you broke down in his arms, his obsession with you fueled, and fueled. and it hasn't gone down since, and he doesn't think it will anytime soon.

you'd come out of the shower, with wet hair, and you were dressed, and you seemed way more lighter and comfortable now.

he was zoning off into the bathroom door, and his head quickly snapped back to the tv infront of his couch, just as the door lock clicked open.

you'd go to him sitting on the couch, "thanks alot, sunghoon. i feel better now." you'd offer a smile, and his heart started beating faster than it should. he'd nod shyly, "y-yeah, no problem. as i said, you can always come to me."

there was a silence that followed after, and he cut through it with his attractive, soothing voice. "you should go sleep. the guest room is the one next to the kitchen." you'd nod, and go to it, leaving him on his couch

you slept like a baby, you hadn't slept properly in so long because of the way your house was. it felt great, you felt free, in one way atleast.

2am.

sunghoon was already up, his head pounding because he couldn't sleep properly, at all. his head was filled with thoughts of you, only you. no one else.

he'd head to his bathroom, that was dry now. he'd step in, and close the door.

when he turned around, his heart was beating so fast. he saw your panties on the floor, washed and dried up.

it was sitting there for him, like a gift under a christmas tree. his heart pounded as he kneeled down and held it, taking in the size of it.

fuck, he was hard. rock hard. he felt like a pervert for this. he'd bring it up to his nose and take in the smell, it smelled like strawberry body wash, like strawberries from paris.

he couldn't take it anymore, he'd get up and go to his room, stuffing the fabric in his pocket.

he'd enter his room and lock the door quickly, and take the panties out of his pocket.

he'd slide his sweatpants down lower, and free his hard erection. it was the hardest he'd ever been.

sliding his hand slowly on his cock let out a guttural groan from his throat. he'd keep going, closing his eyes and thinking about you on his cock, fully inside your warmth as you'd hold onto him.

he felt guilty, so guilty for doing this. but he couldn't stop. he wanted you so bad. he'd bring up the laced panties sitting next to him, and rub it against his tip, making him twitch and moan.

he'd go faster, imagining you underneath him, sobbing into his pillow as he pounded you, owned you, worshipped you, claimed you.

he wanted you so bad, it hurt. he'd keep going and cum on your panties.

all this, while you were tucked inside the guest bed, sleeping peacefully, unknowing of whatever he's imagining and doing to himself.

8am.

you'd reluctantly get up from the bed you were in, and head out of the room, yawning, only to be greeted by sunghoon in the kitchen, shirtless, cooking.

he looked like god put extra effort into him as an apology for creating men. he was literally perfect. his back looked so good, you wanted to dig your nails into it while he fucked you.

he wouldn't do that though, neither would you. you're still a virgin, so there's no way you'd even lose it to the boy next door.

he already knew you were there, staring at him. he had a smirk on his face, he knew the effect he had on you, and your sweet, innocent mind.

he'd turn around, the aroma of pancakes greeting the living room, and god they smelled so good.

"did you sleep well, y/n?" you'd nod as his gaze tore into your body piece by piece.

"i think i'll head home now, thanks for letting me stay, it calmed me down a lot." you'd smile, and you swore you saw his smile drop when you say that. "you can stay for breakfast, i made extra." you felt like a bit of a nuisance honestly, even if he was being so nice to you. "it's fine, i can just take some to my house and eat there." he'd nod and pack them and some syrup in a box for you.

he'd see you to the door, and speak. "you're always welcome to stay over, if you ever feel unsafe." you'd nod, this man was so nice to you, it almost felt too good to be true. "i will, thank you so much."

you'd head to your apartment and enter the code, and lock the door.

god, this was going to be a long day.

oh, right.

sunghoon and you exchanged numbers yesterday night. you could just text him for help, but wouldn't that be too much? he must be busy, you can just do this on your own.

9:03pm.

your phone lit up with a notification from sunghoon. you were on your couch, curtains closed, doors locked and watching a scream movie.

weird. he always assumed everything, and was surprisingly right everytime.

whatever. he must be lucky.

you'd close your phone and continue watching, and slowly fall asleep.

3am.

you'd wake up, your neck hurting because of the position you fell asleep in.

you'd hear rustling noises outside your door, and your heart would jump out of your body.

you'd slowly head to your door, and look through the peephole.

only to see someone.

that someone was sunghoon.

staring into your door, endlessly.

what the fuck? why is he doing that? is he okay? should you text him? no. you shouldn't. just observe. that's all.

nothing else. you were going to be careful and smart this time, and not be stupid. you couldn't let the freedom you worked so hard for be taken away like this.

sunghoon left. his hands in his pockets, just nothing. he just left after staring.

you found it weird, so weird. why was he here?

next day, 2 am.

you woke up to the sound of someone passing a paper through the bottom of your door.

you'd get scared, and go to the door, and pick up the envelope.

it had a heart as a stamp, a pink-red stamp that looked like hardened blood.

you'd open it, slightly.

"you're mine. no one else's. i'll destroy and kill anyone to prove that."

your heart sank. why? why was this happening? why you? why not someone else?! you just got to be happy, and that happiness is already being torn apart piece by piece, every. single. fucking. day.

you couldn't take it anymore, you'd text sunghoon, the only person who was there for you to come over.

he'd "wake up" to your text and immediately come over to your place.

you'd open your door to sunghoon standing there, looking worried.

"are you okay? what happened?" you'd step aside to let him in and lock your door.

you'd wait until he sat on the couch with you and hand him the envelope that was given to you.

he'd raise an eyebrow and open it, and read it, feeling "disgusted".

"what the hell? when was this?" he'd look up at you, gripping the envelope hard in his hands.

"j-just now. 10 minutes ago. i'm scared. i'm so scared, sunghoon. i have no one who can protect me properly."

he'd shake his head, "you have me, don't worry. i'll protect you. " he'd reach out to tuck a stray hair falling on your face behind your ear as you teared up.

"don't cry, y/n. you're such a strong girl, you can do this, its okay." he'd take you into his arms once again and you'd break down into his chest, not just because of what happened today, but all the pent up fear and stress that's been coursing through you your entire life.

he loved it. he loved having you in his arms, fall apart bit by bit. he wanted to be the only thing that mattered to you. he worshipped you. he loved you.

but he didn't know that isn't love. loving isn't putting someone on a pedestal and chasing after them with your all, it's about taking care of them and making them feel worth someone.

it's about being there for someone no matter what, telling them what things they do right and wrong, not to devote yourself to them.

he didn't know what any of it felt like. he was used, discarded his entire life. he was never taught anything right or wrong, only ever taught to worship.

you'd stop crying, pull away from him, and wipe your tears away. he'd look at you fondly, and you felt your heart beating faster.

"can you stay with me tonight? i feel really unsafe." you'd look up at him, hoping he'd say yes.

"ofcourse i will. where do you wanna sleep?"

"my room please."

he'd nod and you'd lead him to your room.

it wasn't all that special, really. you were just into posters and graphics, alot. that's what gave the room such character. and he loved it. he loved every part of you, every detail of you, everything you did.

in his eyes, you were perfect, in every single way.

you'd plop down on the bed first, sighing. he'd sit next to you, on your left. just looking at you.

"i don't why this is happening to me." he'd raise an eyebrow, urging for you to continue. "i moved out a few days ago from my abusive household. and i'm already being stalked. i'm being chased, i'm not free. even for a single second." you'd look at him.

"you were abused?" you'd nod, tears forming in your eyes that never came out.

he felt a sudden urge of violence. he wanted to destroy all those people that abused you, hurt you. damaged you. he hated it. the thought of anyone else, even your family treating you like shit when you were perfect in his eyes.

"fuck." he'd run a hand through his hair, looking at you. "i won't let anyone ever do that to you again, y/n."

you'd look up at him with teary eyes, "promise?" he'd smile and nod, "promise."

4am.

he couldn't sleep with your warm body sleeping beside him, cuddling him. your head was in his chest, and your leg was draped over his. he was holding you too, but he could hear his own heartbeat.

he'd look down at your sleeping form with fond eyes, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. he loved you so much. he wanted to hold you like this to sleep everyday.

you'd wake up slightly, due to a bad dream, and open your eyes. sunghoon was awake too, his cheeks pink. you'd just blink slightly, fuck, your faces were inches away from each other. you'd blush, and he'd smile.

he leaned in and kissed you. you? did he just kiss you? you were stunned. you couldn't move, and he took that as permission to go deeper. he'd press his lips firmer, and hold the back of your head, and when you finally kissed back, he felt tears coming up his eyes. not because of sadness, because of pleasure.

he'd shove his tongue into your mouth, earning a muffled sound from you. his tongue danced with yours. you felt yourself getting really horny, and you'd feel something poking against your bare thigh.

was that his cock? it can't be that huge, right? no way. maybe it was. you could just take a peek.

you'd open your eyes slowly after breaking apart from the kiss and look down, fuck. he was hard. your face turned red, you never saw an actual dick, in real life. like ever.

and it made you so, so incredibly hot. you were so worked up right now, and he was even more ruined.

he wanted to fuck you until the sun rose. he wanted to make you cry and scream his name, he wanted to make you feel so good.

"y/n..." you'd look up at his groggy voice calling your name, you knew what he was going to ask, but you were scared. scared of doing this right now.

"i-i don't think i'm ready.." he'd smile and nod, understanding you didn't wanna have sex with him yet, but he knew you would soon.

"do you know how to jerk someone off, hm?" he'd ask you, with such innocent eyes that if you didn't hear him you wouldn't have even guessed what he just said.

"i-i don't." you'd shyly say, you were embarrassed of being a virgin in almost every aspect.

"do you want to?" you'd nod, you really wanted to jerk him off, before anyone else got to him. what if you weren't ready for a long time? what if he got bored by then? this was your chance.

he'd sit up, bringing you up with him. he'd lower his sweatpants and boxers, revealing his thick, hard veiny cock. your eyes widened at the sight, and he smirked. he knew he was big. too big for most women to take.

"scared?" he'd ask you with a cocky smile, and you'd shake your head. "no, i'm not."

you'd slowly go closer to him and touch his hard cock, and he twitched at the small touch. he'd grab your hand gently, and direct it, teaching you how to jerk him off.

he'd make your thumb to over his tip first, and then slowly go from base to tip. "spit on your palm." and you obeyed, you spat on your palm and your hand met with his dick again. you'd jerk him off with shaky eyes, and he was just smirking the entire time, so, so fucking aroused.

you wanted more. you wanted it in your mouth. so you'd suddenly lean down and take the tip in your mouth, your soft, warm tongue swirling around it, and he groaned. "fuck, y/n. are you sure?" he'd look down at you, he was scared of hurting you.

you'd nod, and get off the bed, then onto your knees between his legs as he sat on the edge of the bed.

you'd grab the base of his cock, and slowly take it into your mouth. he'd throw his head back and moan, his hips stuttering. you'd try to take it all in your mouth, but it was too hard. there were tears coming in when you took a little more than half of it in.

he'd smirk, and his hand would tangle in your hair, leading you up and down on his cock. your hands were at your sides now, desperately reaching for something to grab.

he couldn't take it anymore, and he'd thrust up fully into your mouth, his tip was hitting the back of your throat now, making you tear up fully and gag.

fuck, he loved the sight of you choking on his cock and crying like an angel. you looked so innocent, and he was breaking that innocence. it felt amazing. your mouth was so warm and wet around his cock.

"so pretty, y/n. you're gorgeous." you'd blush even though you were about to cry, and he'd grab your hair tighter and lead you up and down on his cock, making him throw his head back again and groan.

you'd finally cry, the tears falling out from your eyes, your cheeks pink, and you on your knees, your pussy grinding against the air, desperate for friction.

that made him lose his cool, he loved seeing you cry, no matter what it was. he'd finally go faster into your mouth. "where do you want it baby? on your face or inside?" you'd blink twice, indicating you wanted to swallow, and he'd smirk, of course you did.

he'd release his hot cum inside your throat, your face to his clean, shaven crotch, and him groaning as his cum travelled down your throat. his hips stuttered as he did so, and he loved the way you took it all without complaining.

he'd pull his half-hard cock out of your mouth, leaving you gasping and breathless. he'd grab a water bottle from the side of the bed and place it next to him. he'd help you up and keep you on his lap. he'd take the water and open the cap, "open." he'd command, not ask, and you obeyed. you were falling in love with him. he'd pour water into your mouth slowly, allowing you to drink without choking. you'd drink as much as you wanted, and you felt better.

"you okay, y/n?" he'd look at you. you'd nod, "y-yeah. did i..um.." you'd look away, shyly. "cmon, use your words baby." he'd coo, and you felt even more wet. "did i do good?" his eyes widened slightly, and his cock was rock hard again. it pressed against your ass, the tip rubbing against your shirt.

"you did amazing, y/n. you're so perfect." he'd smile, and you felt like you were going to cum just from looking at him. he knew what he was doing to you, he could feel your pussy rubbing against him unconsciously. and he'd travel his hands down your body, and reach the waistband of your shorts.

"can i?" you'd blush and nod, you really needed someone inside you, even if it was just their fingers. the way he asked for permission while taking care of you turned you on so much.

he'd make you lift your hips a little and take your shorts off for you. you were left in your panties and t-shirt now. and his dick was soo hard.

he'd rip a hole in your panties, not even take them off. he'd rub two fingers against your soaked cunt, and you'd whimper and lean onto his shoulder. "p-please put them in, sunghoon, i can't-" you'd moan when he thrusted one finger into your wet heat, feeling how tight and hot it was.

"you're soaked, y/n. all this just for me?" he'd coo, and you'd moan and nod. he'd thrust his ring finger alongside his middle finger that was already inside you, and you'd moan as his fingers worked you.

his palm was rubbing against your clothed clit as he thrust his fingers into your pussy, in and out. you were clawing at his back, and gripping on for dear life. "you like that, hmm? you like my thick fingers in your cunt, y/n?" you'd nod on his shoulder and moan into it, tearing up again.

god, you were about to cum already. it felt like heaven. he knew you were about to cum since your pussy tightened around his fingers, as if they didn't want his fingers to pull out.

you'd moan and whimper as you climaxed around his fingers, and he'd smirk, his other hand on the back of your head, calming you down as you broke down on his lap.

he'd pull his fingers out after your cunt relaxed, and you'd straighten yourself up, now facing him again. he'd put his fingers into his mouth, and suck off your juices on them, with a satisfied hum. he'd clean them, "you taste so good, y/n. just like candy." you'd blush. "shut up." you couldn't take this much praise from someone like him. he was literally a greek god. and you were...just you. not in his eyes though, in his eyes, you were perfect.

you'd both clean up and fall asleep again. sunghoon was satisfied, he knew you were his now.

he left in the morning after you both had pancakes, and he'd go back to his apartment.

he'd immediately turn his laptop on and connect the camera he secretly planted in your room, living room and kitchen.

he had a few connections, so he hacked into your laptop and saw everything you were doing on your laptop, every site, every search that you deleted, he had it all in his palm.

you were in your room, on your laptop. he looked at one camera of you sitting on your bed in just your panties and t-shirt. you were watching some random anime while eating your breakfast, and you looked so cute, so perfect. all vulnerable.

he'd grab his burner phone and text you through it.

you felt like you were going to throw up. you immediately got up and closed your curtains, and looked around anxiously. you were being watched. watched by someone you don't know.

watched by someone closer than you think.

an : HI SORRY NOT UPLOADING FOR SO LONG my household is baddd i dont have any freedom sorry!! this was gonna be a oneshot but i literally wanna upload so bad so there's gonna be 2 parts to the story, thank u 4 reading >_<

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