જ fav grps/current hyperfixations !! : enha (ot7, 7-0=0) , cortis, txt, nwjns (ot5), illit ; ryujin nippon, hp movies, cirque du soleil (kooza), phantom of the opera
winning back a bad bitch is harder than losing one- sunghoon edition.
desperate ex!hoon x reader. super suggestive. funny. readers petty but in denial! decided to make this for all members, beginnin with hee! here's hee's.
winning back a bad bitch is harder than losing one- jay edition.
desperate ex!jay x reader. stupid shit. super suggestive. funny. readers petty but in denial! decided to make this a series for all members, heres hee's. hoon's. jake's. won's so far!
synopsis✧˖°. jungwon is nothing like the alphas you're used to. gentle, patient, and soft-spoken, he runs a small bookstore on birch street and seems content to love you from a distance. but when other alphas (and persistent betas) refuse to take no for an answer, jungwon's protective instincts finally outweigh his restraint. a story featuring a respectful alpha who would rather wait forever than rush your heart, and the omega who learns that the sweetest claims are the quietest ones.
contains✧˖°. a/b/o dynamics ; slow burn romance ; claiming/bonding ; scenes of unwanted attention/harassment from other alphas/betas ; mild violence ; possessive/jealous behavior ; heat cycles mentioned but not graphically described ; scenting/marking ; domestic fluff ; happy ending ; wc: 7.7k
notes✧˖°. this is my first time writing any sort of omegaverse dynamic!! im not rlly sure if i like this or if its accurate at all, but i tried my best!! this was based off this request from an anon so thank you very very much for the idea! i hope you enjoy!!!
the bookstore on the corner of elm and birch is where you first notice him.
you're shelving returns in the library where you work, your cart stacked high with books that need to go back to their homes on the shelves, when your coworker nudges your shoulder.
"delivery's here," she says, and you look up to see a figure standing at the circulation desk, holding a box of interlibrary loan books.
he's not particularly tall, not like some alphas who seem to take up entire doorways with their presence.
he's compact, neat, wearing a soft cream-colored sweater that looks like it cost more than your entire wardrobe. his hair is dark and falls across his forehead in a way that makes him look younger than he probably is, and when he turns slightly, you catch sight of his profile.
something in your chest tightens.
you've seen him before, you realize. once or twice, dropping off orders, picking up transfers.
he's the owner of that small independent bookstore three blocks over, the one with the yellow awning and the window boxes full of trailing ivy.
you've walked past it a hundred times on your way to work but you've never gone inside.
"can you sign for these?" your coworker is asking him, and he nods, stepping up to the desk to scribble his name on the clipboard.
his scent drifts toward you, even from across the room. sandalwood and old paper, something earthy and warm like sun-warmed soil, and your fingers tighten around the book you're holding without your permission.
omega biology is annoying like that.
you presented at sixteen, spent years learning to control your reactions to alpha scents, and you've gotten good at it.
most alphas smell like... alphas. sharp or musky or overwhelming. some are pleasant, sure, but none of them have ever made your knees weak from across a room.
this one does.
you force yourself to look away, to focus on shelving the returns, but you can feel your heart beating faster than normal, can feel the flush creeping up your neck.
you don't look up again until you hear the door close, until your coworker whistles low and says, "he's pretty, isn't he?"
"who?" you ask, trying for casual.
"yang jungwon. owns bound pages, that bookstore on birch? he's in here like once a week with transfers. you never noticed him before?"
you shake your head, but you're lying. you have noticed him. you just never let yourself think about it.
"he's an alpha," your coworker continues, waggling her eyebrows. "but the quiet kind. weirdly calm. most alphas who come in here are all... you know." she flexes her arms, makes a growly face. "he just... reads while he waits. brings his own tea. it's kind of adorable."
"mm," you say noncommittally, but you're already planning to walk past his bookstore on your way home. just to look at the window display. just to see.
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you don't go in that day. or the next. or the next.
you tell yourself it's because you're busy, because your heat is coming up and you need to prepare, because you have laundry and groceries and a life that doesn't involve pining after alphas who smell like libraries and rain.
but on friday, you're walking past the yellow awning and the window boxes, and you tell yourself you'll just look at the display. just for a minute.
the window is arranged beautifully, stacks of books in earth tones, a small sign handwritten in elegant script advertising a reading by a local poet.
there's a cat sleeping in the window, orange and fat and completely unconcerned with the humans outside.
you're so busy looking at the cat that you don't notice the door opening.
"careful," a voice says, and you jump, stumbling backward, and suddenly there are hands on your elbows steadying you.
you look up, and it's him. jungwon. up close he's even prettier, fine-boned and delicate in a way that contrasts sharply with what he is.
his eyes are dark and warm, framed by lashes that would be unfair on anyone else, and he's looking at you with concern softening his features.
"sorry," he says, and his voice is soft, gentle. "i didn't mean to startle you."
"no, i'm sorry," you stammer, feeling your face heat up. "i was looking at the cat. i wasn't paying attention."
the cat in question has opened one eye to judge you both.
"janggu is very distracting," jungwon agrees, and he smiles, just a little, the corner of his mouth turning up. "he's the real owner of the shop. i'm just here to open cans."
you laugh, surprised by the joke, and his smile widens.
"you work at the library," he says, and it's not a question.
"yeah," you say, surprised. "how did you..."
"i see you sometimes," he admits, and he looks shy about it, glancing down at his shoes. "when i come for transfers. you're always reading at the desk when there's no one checking out books."
your stomach does something complicated. he's noticed you. he's noticed you noticing him, maybe, or he's just been looking too.
"i'm y/n," you say, holding out your hand.
he takes it, and his fingers are warm and slightly calloused from handling books, and he shakes your hand with a formality that feels old-fashioned. "jungwon. obviously."
"obviously," you agree, smiling now.
"would you... would you like to come in?" he asks, gesturing toward the shop. "i just made tea. and janggu would probably appreciate being admired up close."
you should say no. you have errands. you have things to do. your heat is in five days and you should be home preparing, not flirting with pretty alphas in doorways.
"yeah," you hear yourself say. "i'd like that."
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the inside of bound pages is exactly what you hoped it would be.
the shelves are dark wood, worn smooth by years of hands. the lighting is warm and golden, not the harsh fluorescent of your library. there's a small seating area in the back with mismatched armchairs and a rug that looks like it came from someone's grandmother's attic.
the air smells like the sandalwood scent you noticed earlier, stronger now, wrapping around you like a blanket.
jungwon moves behind a small counter, pouring tea from a ceramic pot into two mugs.
"i have chamomile or earl grey," he says. "or coffee, if you prefer. i have a small machine in the back."
"chamomile is perfect," you say, wandering toward the poetry section.
the selection is diverse, carefully curated. you pull out a collection you've been wanting to read, something the library doesn't have in their budget for this quarter.
"that's a good one," jungwon says, appearing beside you with your tea. he doesn't crowd you, keeps a respectful distance, but you can still feel the warmth of him.
"the author comes in sometimes. she's very intense. talks with her hands."
"do you host a lot of readings?"
"one or two a month," he says, leading you toward the seating area. he gestures to a chair and waits for you to sit before settling into the one across from you, knees pulled up, mug cradled in his hands. "nothing fancy. just... community. i like bringing people together around books."
you sip your tea. it's perfect, floral and slightly sweet, and you feel yourself relaxing despite the proximity of an alpha, despite the way your biology is humming quietly in the back of your mind.
"..why a bookstore? most alphas i know go into... i don't know. security. business. something aggressive." you say
he doesn't take offense. just nods, like he's heard this before. "i like the quiet," he says. "i like stories. and i don't see why being an alpha means i have to be loud." he pauses, looks down at his tea.
"my father wanted me to take over his company. construction. lots of yelling, lots of... posturing. i couldn't do it. so i used my inheritance to buy this place instead."
"that was brave," you say.
"or foolish," he counters, but he's smiling. "the shop barely breaks even. but i'm happy. most of the time."
you stay for an hour. you talk about books, about the library's budget crisis, about janggu the cat who has relocated to your lap and is currently drooling on your sweater.
jungwon listens more than he speaks, but when he does talk, it's thoughtful, considered, like he's choosing each word carefully.
when you finally leave, he walks you to the door.
"come back anytime," he says, and he means it. you can hear it in his voice, the sincerity. "even if you just want to read. i don't mind company."
"i will," you promise, and you mean it too.
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you don't see him for two weeks.
your heat hits hard, keeps you home for three days, and when you emerge, exhausted and sensitive, the last thing you want is to run into alphas.
you take the long way to work, avoiding birch street entirely.
but you can't stop thinking about him. about the way he looked at you, like you were interesting, like you were worth listening to. about the tea and the cat and the quiet way he occupied space without demanding all of it.
on the third day back at work, you're shelving in the back stacks when you smell it. that warm earthy scent, and your heart stutters.
you find him in the rare books section, standing on a step stool to reach a high shelf.
he's wearing a soft blue sweater today, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and his hair is messier than before, like he's been running his hands through it.
"looking for something?" you ask, and he startles, nearly losing his balance.
"y/n," he says, and he sounds pleased. relieved, even. "i was hoping i'd see you. i... i brought you something."
he climbs down, reaches into the bag he's carrying, and pulls out a book. the poetry collection you were looking at in his shop, the one by the author who talks with her hands.
"you didn't buy it," he says, holding it out. "and i noticed the library doesn't have it. so. consider it a gift. for the company. and the tea."
you take the book, running your fingers over the cover. "jungwon..."
"no pressure," he says quickly. "if you don't want it, i understand. i just thought... you seemed interested. and i like giving books to people who will appreciate them."
"i love it," you say, and you look up at him, meet his eyes. "thank you."
he smiles, that soft, shy smile, and something in your chest aches with wanting.
"would you... maybe want to get coffee sometime?" he asks, and he looks nervous, actually nervous, his fingers twisting together. "not here. somewhere neutral. where you can leave if i'm boring."
"you're not boring," you say, and you laugh because the idea is absurd. "and yes. i'd like that."
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the coffee date is awkward and wonderful.
he chooses a small cafe halfway between the library and his shop, neutral ground, and he arrives early enough to have a table by the window and two drinks waiting.
he remembered your order from his shop, chamomile with honey, and the thoughtfulness of it makes you feel warm all over.
you talk for two hours. he tells you about growing up as a quiet alpha in a loud family, about learning to fight even though he hated it, about the relief of opening his own shop where he could set the rules.
you tell him about presenting as an omega and feeling like your body betrayed you, about learning to be tough, about the library being your sanctuary.
"do you get... attention?" he asks carefully, stirring his coffee. "from alphas?"
"constantly," you say, and you don't mean to sound bitter but you do. "ever since i presented. it's like they can smell the... availability. even when i'm not available. even when i don't want to be noticed."
his jaw tightens slightly, the first sign of alpha aggression you've seen from him. "that's... frustrating. for you, i mean."
"it's exhausting," you admit. "most of them don't take no well. they think persistence is romantic."
"i hate that," he says quietly. "the entitlement. the idea that just because we're alphas, omegas owe us something."
"you're different," you say, and you mean it. "you know that, right? you're not like them."
he looks down at his cup. "i try not to be. but i am an alpha. i feel... things. instincts. i just try not to let them control me."
"what kind of things?"
he hesitates. looks out the window. "protective things," he finally says. "possessive things. when i see an omega being bothered, i want to... intervene. but i know that's not always welcome. so i don't. unless i'm asked."
you think about that. about the restraint it takes, to feel that urge and suppress it.
most alphas don't bother. they act on every impulse, every desire, and deal with the consequences later.
"i'd ask you," you say softly. "if i needed help. i think i'd ask you."
he looks at you then, and his eyes are dark and intense, and you feel the moment stretch between you.
"i'd come," he promises. "if you asked. i'd always come."
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you start visiting the bookstore regularly.
at first, it's once a week. you stop by on your lunch break, browse the shelves, let janggu sit on your lap while jungwon makes you tea.
he never charges you for the drinks. he never rushes you to buy something. he seems to genuinely enjoy your presence, your company, the conversations you have about everything and nothing.
you learn that he wakes up at five every morning to open the shop. that he lives in a small apartment above the store, just a studio with a kitchenette and a bed that folds into the wall. that his mother calls every sunday and they talk for exactly thirty minutes about nothing important. that he has a younger sister who lives abroad and sends him postcards from every city she visits.
he learns that you prefer rainy days to sunny ones. that you collect vintage postcards too, a coincidence that makes him laugh with delight. that you hate mushrooms but love truffle oil, which makes no sense but he accepts it. that you sleep with three pillows and you can't fall asleep without reading at least a chapter of something.
you're friends, you realize one day. actual friends.
you've been visiting for a month and a half and you've talked about everything except the tension that's slowly building between you, the way his scent seems to wrap around you more tightly every time you visit, the way you find yourself dressing nicer on days you know you'll see him.
you're leaving one afternoon, book in hand, when you nearly run into someone on the sidewalk.
"oh, sorry," you say, looking up.
the man is tall, broad-shouldered, with a smile that shows too many teeth. he's an alpha, his scent sharp and aggressive, something chemical and artificial that makes your nose wrinkle.
"no problem, beautiful," he says, and his eyes rake over you in a way that makes your skin crawl. "you coming out of that bookstore? you a reader?"
"i was just leaving," you say, stepping around him.
he steps with you, blocking your path. "hey, no need to rush off. i'm minjae. what's your name, omega?"
"she's with me," jungwon's voice comes from the doorway, and you turn to see him standing there, holding the door open, his expression calm but his eyes dark.
minjae looks between you, assessing. "yeah? you her alpha?"
"no," jungwon says, and the word feels heavy. "i'm her friend. and she's trying to leave. you should let her pass."
minjae laughs, but it's not friendly. "just being friendly, little alpha. no need to get territorial."
"i'm not territorial," jungwon says, and his voice is still soft, still gentle, but there's something underneath it now, something steel. "i'm respectful. which is more than i can say for you. let her pass. now."
there's a moment where you think minjae might push it, might escalate, but something in jungwon's posture must warn him off. he steps aside, holds up his hands in mock surrender.
"whatever. your loss, omega. i'd have treated you right."
he walks away, and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.
"are you okay?" jungwon asks, moving closer, close enough that his scent washes over you, calming your racing heart.
"yeah," you say. "thank you. for stepping in."
"of course," he says, but he's frowning, looking in the direction minjae went. "he's wrong, you know. about me being territorial."
"oh?"
jungwon looks at you, and there's something vulnerable in his eyes. "i am territorial. i wanted to... i wanted to do much more than tell him to step aside. but that's not what you needed. you needed him to leave, not for me to start a fight."
you look at him, really look at him, this alpha who feels so intensely but controls it so carefully, who wants to protect you but respects your autonomy more than his own desires.
"would you have fought him?" you ask. "if he'd touched me?"
"in a heartbeat," jungwon says, and there's no hesitation.
"but i'd rather avoid it. i don't like violence. but for you..." he trails off, shakes his head. "i should get back to the shop. janggu is probably knocking things off shelves."
"jungwon," you say, and he pauses, looks back at you. "i'm glad you're my friend."
something flickers across his face, there and gone, but he smiles. "me too, y/n. me too."
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the incident makes something shift between you.
you start texting. casual things at first, pictures of books you think he'd like, updates about janggu's latest destructive tendencies, questions about his day.
he responds quickly, always, his messages thoughtful and sometimes funny in ways that surprise you.
you learn that he has a dry sense of humor, that he sends you memes at midnight that make you laugh until you cry, that he cares deeply about things like proper tea steeping times and the oxford comma.
you also learn, slowly, that he has a temper. not that you ever see it directed at you, but he tells you stories.
about the alpha who tried to rob his shop and left with a broken nose. about the time he found a beta harassing an omega in the alley behind his store and scared him so badly the guy moved neighborhoods.
"you're dangerous," you say one evening, sitting in his shop after hours.
he's closed up, turned the sign, and you're sharing a bottle of wine on the small couch in the back, janggu purring between you.
"only when i need to be," he says. "only to protect people who can't protect themselves."
"have you ever... hurt someone who didn't deserve it?"
he's quiet for a long moment. "once," he admits. "when i was younger. before i opened the shop. there was an omega i liked, and another alpha was interested in her too. i let my jealousy get the better of me. i said things, did things... i scared her. she stopped talking to me after that."
"is that why you're so careful now?"
he looks at you, and his eyes are dark with emotion. "yes. i never want to be that person again. the one who lets his instincts override his decency. i'd rather be gentle and lose than be cruel and win."
you reach out, touch his hand. it's the first time you've initiated contact, and he goes still, watching your fingers rest against his knuckles.
"you're not cruel," you say. "you're the kindest alpha i've ever met."
he turns his hand, palm up, and you let him twine his fingers with yours. "y/n..."
the moment pauses between the two of you. just staring at each other before jungwon breaks the silence.
he takes a breath. "are you seeing anyone? romantically, i mean. i know we're just friends, and i value that so much, but i need to know if there's someone else. if i'm... if i'm waiting for something that's not going to happen."
your heart stutters. "waiting?"
he looks down at their joined hands. "i've been waiting," he admits quietly. "hoping that maybe, eventually, you might feel... that we might... but if there's someone else, i need to know. so i can stop. so i can just be your friend without hoping for more."
"there's no one else," you whisper. "jungwon, there's no one else. there hasn't been since i met you."
he looks up, and his eyes are wide, hopeful, terrified. "really?"
"really," you confirm. "i've been waiting too."
the moment stretches between you, charged and trembling, and you think he might kiss you. you want him to, you realize. you want it so badly it aches.
but he doesn't. he squeezes your hand instead, and he smiles, and he says, "would you like to have dinner with me this weekend? a real date? not just coffee or tea, but... i could cook. if you want. or we could go out. wherever you want to go."
"i'd love that," you say, and you mean it with your whole heart.
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the date doesn't happen.
not because you don't want it to, but because two days before you're supposed to have dinner at his apartment, another alpha decides to make things complicated.
you're at the grocery store, buying ingredients for a dessert you planned to bring to jungwon's place, when you feel the presence behind you.
"hey there," the voice says, and you turn to find an alpha you don't recognize. he's handsome in a polished way, expensive clothes, styled hair, the kind of alpha who expects attention.
"hi," you say, turning back to the flour.
"you're the omega from the library, right? i've seen you there. i'm donghyun."
"nice to meet you," you say, not meaning it, trying to move away.
he follows. "you're not bonded," he observes, and it's not a question. "i can tell. you smell... available. lonely, maybe."
"i'm not lonely," you say firmly. "and i'm not interested."
"come on," he says, and he reaches out, touches your arm. "let me buy you a drink. just one. i'm a lawyer, i make good money. i could take care of you. your heat must be coming up soon, right? i could help with that."
"i said no," you say, pulling your arm away. "leave me alone."
"don't be like that," he says, and his voice hardens. "i'm being nice. you should be grateful. most alphas wouldn't bother with a stuck-up omega like..."
"she said no."
jungwon's voice comes from the end of the aisle, and you turn to see him standing there, a basket in his hand, his expression completely calm.
but his eyes... his eyes are dark and dangerous.
"yang jungwon," donghyun says, and he sounds surprised. "didn't know you were shopping here."
"i shop here every week," jungwon says, walking toward you.
he doesn't touch you, doesn't crowd you, but he positions himself between you and donghyun with a casualness that belies the tension in his shoulders. "y/n, are you okay?"
"i'm fine," you say, but your voice is shaking. "he was just leaving."
"was i?" donghyun asks, and he smirks at jungwon. "you know her, jungwon? since when do you go after omegas? i thought you were above all that. too good for biology."
"i'm not above anything," jungwon says quietly. "but i do respect consent. which is more than i can say for you. leave her alone. now."
"or what?" donghyun steps closer, and you can smell his scent now, aggressive and challenging. "you'll fight me? you? i've seen you in the ring, jungwon. you're not impressive."
"you've never seen me fight for something that matters," jungwon says, and his voice is soft but it carries. "leave. now. before i make you."
donghyun looks like he wants to push it, wants to escalate, but something in jungwon's posture must give him pause. he holds up his hands, backs away.
"whatever. she's not worth it anyway."
he leaves, and jungwon turns to you immediately, his hands hovering like he wants to touch you but isn't sure if he should.
"are you hurt?" he asks. "did he touch you?"
"just my arm," you say, and you realize you're shaking. "jungwon..."
"come here," he says softly, and he opens his arms, and you step into them without hesitation.
he holds you right there in the grocery store aisle, surrounded by flour and sugar and pasta, and he doesn't care who sees. he strokes your hair and murmurs comfort against your temple and lets you breathe in his scent until you stop shaking.
"thank you," you whisper into his sweater. "i'm sorry. i didn't mean to cause trouble."
"you didn't cause anything," he says, pulling back to look at you. his eyes are fierce, protective. "he did. and if he bothers you again, i'll... i'll handle it."
"you were so calm," you say. "i thought... i thought you'd be angrier."
"i was angry," he admits. "i wanted to break his jaw. but you wanted him to leave. so i made him leave. that's what matters."
you look at him, this alpha who controls his every instinct just to keep you comfortable, who swallows his own rage so you don't have to see it, and you feel something inside you crack open, something warm and terrifying and real.
"jungwon," you say, and your voice is steady now. "about our date."
"we can cancel," he says quickly. "if you're shaken up, if you need space..."
"i don't want to cancel," you say. "i want to move it up. i want to have dinner tomorrow. i want... i want to stop waiting."
he goes still, searching your eyes. "y/n..."
"i like you," you say, and it feels like a confession. "i like you so much. and i'm tired of pretending this is just friendship. i want more. if you want it too."
he makes a sound, soft and broken, and then his hand is cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with reverence.
"i want it," he whispers. "i want everything with you. i have since that first day in the shop."
"then kiss me," you say. "please."
he does. he bends down and presses his lips to yours, soft and gentle and perfect, and you feel the moment like a key turning in a lock, like finally finally finally.
when he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm on your lips.
"my omega," he whispers, and it's not a claim, not yet. it's a promise. a hope.
you kiss him again, there in the grocery store, while the world spins on without you.
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the courtship, when it officially begins, is everything you dreamed of and nothing like you expected.
jungwon courts you like he has all the time in the world.
he brings you flowers, not roses but wildflowers he picks on his morning walks, tied with twine and still damp with dew. he learns your coffee order by heart and shows up at the library on your lunch breaks with your favorite drink and sandwiches from the deli down the street.
he writes you notes. actual handwritten notes on paper he stocks in his shop, left on your doorstep or tucked into books he lends you.
little things. "saw this and thought of you." "janggu misses you." "i can't stop thinking about your smile."
you keep them all in a box under your bed.
he never pushes. never assumes. when your heat finally hits, three weeks after the grocery store kiss, he texts you every few hours to check if you need anything, but he doesn't invite himself over, doesn't imply that you need an alpha to get through it.
he just offers, over and over, to be there if you want him, and to give you space if you don't.
you spend your heat alone, but you think about him constantly. his scent, his smile, the way he looked at you in the grocery store like he would burn the world down if anyone tried to hurt you.
when you emerge, exhausted but satisfied, there's a text waiting from him.
jungwon
hope you're feeling okay. i made soup. can i bring it by?
you send him your address before you can second guess yourself.
he shows up an hour later with a thermos of soup that smells like heaven, and when he sees you, his eyes go soft with something that looks a lot like love.
"you look tired," he says gently, stepping inside when you invite him in. "but beautiful. always beautiful."
"flatterer," you tease, but you let him guide you to the couch and tuck a blanket around your shoulders.
he heats up the soup in your kitchen, moving with easy familiarity like he belongs there, and when he brings you the bowl, he sits close enough that his scent wraps around you like an embrace.
"thank you," you say, sipping the soup. it's perfect, warm and savory and exactly what you needed.
"jungwon... why me?"
he sets down his own bowl, turning to face you fully. "what do you mean?"
"there are so many omegas," you say, looking down at your hands. "prettier ones, ones who aren't as difficult, ones who would fall into your arms the second they smelled you. why are you being so patient with me? why do you keep showing up?"
he's quiet for a long moment, and when you finally look up, his expression is so tender it makes your chest ache.
"do you know what i see when i look at you?" he asks softly.
"i see someone who loves her job enough to talk about books for twenty minutes straight. i see someone who was cornered by alphas twice her size and still told them no with her head held high. i see someone who makes me want to be better."
he reaches out, cupping your cheek in his palm, and his touch is so gentle you lean into it without thinking.
"i see someone who makes me want to learn every way to take care of her," he continues.
"every thing that makes her smile. i don't want an omega who falls into my arms, y/n. i want you. exactly as you are. difficult and stubborn and perfect."
you feel tears prick your eyes, and you turn your face into his palm, pressing a kiss to the center of his hand. "jungwon..."
"take your time," he whispers. "i'm not going anywhere. i'll wait as long as you need."
but waiting gets complicated when other people won't leave you alone.
it starts small. a beta at the library who starts bringing you coffee, standing too close when he asks about your day.
he's nice enough, friendly and handsome, and you feel bad when you have to turn him down. but you do turn him down, gently but firmly, because your heart is already full.
then there's an alpha at the coffee shop where you and jungwon meet sometimes.
you started going there because it's halfway between your places, a neutral ground. the alpha is a regular, tall and confident, and he starts waiting for you when you're there alone, walking you to your car, asking about your weekend plans.
"i'm seeing someone," you tell him, because it's true even if you haven't officially put a label on it yet.
"casually, right?" he says, smiling like he knows something you don't. "i've seen that alpha around. the bookstore guy. he doesn't seem like your type. too soft. you need someone who can take care of you properly."
you're so offended on jungwon's behalf that you don't even respond, just get in your car and drive away. but it keeps happening.
the beta at the library who writes his number on your desk. the alpha neighbor who starts leaving gifts at your door. the delivery driver who asks if you live alone.
every time, you handle it yourself. you're capable, you've been handling unwanted attention since you presented as an omega. but jungwon finds out anyway, because he pays attention to everything, and you start to see the strain it puts on him.
he doesn't get angry with you. never that.
but you see the way his jaw tightens when you mention the beta at the library. you see the way he starts walking you to your car after coffee, positioning himself between you and the street without making a big deal of it.
you see the way he scents you, casually, brushing his wrist against yours or leaning close to whisper in your ear, marking you with his smell so other alphas will know you're spoken for.
it's not toxic, you realize one night. it's not about ownership or control. it's about protection. about care.
jungwon never tells you what to do or who to see. he just makes sure everyone knows that if they want to get to you, they have to go through him first.
and god, you love him for it.
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
the incident, as you come to think of it, happens four months into whatever this is between you.
you're at a party, sooyoung's birthday, and jungwon is running late from a book buying trip out of town. you're standing by the snack table, talking to one of sooyoung's coworkers, when you feel the presence behind you.
"hey there," the voice says, and you turn to find an alpha you don't recognize. he's attractive in a sharp way, all angles and confidence, and his scent is overpowering. "i don't think we've met. i'm taehyun."
"y/n," you say, taking a step back, but he follows, crowding into your space.
"you smell amazing," he says, and it's not a compliment the way he says it, it's a claim. "what pack are you with?"
"i'm not with a pack," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "i'm here with someone."
"your alpha?" taehyun asks, and he smiles when you don't answer immediately. "didn't think so. an alpha would never leave his omega alone at a party. especially not one who smells like she's about to go into heat."
your stomach drops. you are, your heat is due in a few days, and you didn't think it was obvious yet. but this alpha is looking at you like you're prey, and you suddenly wish you'd stayed home.
"i'm going to find my friend," you say, trying to step around him, but he catches your wrist, his grip tight enough to bruise.
"come on, don't be like that," he says, pulling you closer. "let's get to know each other. i could take care of you, omega. better than whoever you're waiting for. i can smell that you're not bonded yet. you're free to choose."
"i already chose," you say, and your voice is shaking but you meet his eyes, refusing to look away. "let go of me."
"make me."
"she said let go."
jungwon's voice is quiet but it cuts through the noise of the party like a knife.
he's standing a few feet away, still in his travel clothes, hair messy like he drove too fast to get here. his expression is calm, terrifyingly calm, but his eyes are dark and fixed on taehyun with a look that makes your breath catch.
"who are you?" taehyun asks, not releasing your wrist.
"i'm the alpha she chose," jungwon says, and he steps closer, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from his body. "and i'm going to ask you once more to let her go. nicely."
taehyun laughs, but it sounds nervous. "or what? you don't look like much, little alpha. i could take you."
"you could try," jungwon agrees, and there's something in his voice, something ancient and alpha that makes the room go quiet. "but i should warn you... i don't fight fair when it comes to her."
he moves so fast you barely see it, stepping in close and striking at the pressure point on taehyun's wrist that makes him gasp and release you.
jungwon pulls you behind him in the same motion, positioning himself between you and the other alpha with a fluid grace that speaks of years of training.
"she's not available," jungwon says, and his voice carries, clear and commanding.
"she's mine. and if you touch her again, i will break more than your grip. do you understand?"
taehyun stares at him, rubbing his wrist, and you can see the moment he realizes he's outmatched. not by size or strength, but by the sheer protective fury radiating from jungwon's every pore.
"whatever," taehyun mutters, backing away. "she's not worth it."
he disappears into the crowd, and suddenly jungwon is turning, his hands framing your face, his eyes scanning you for injury.
"are you hurt?" he asks, and his voice is different now, soft and worried, all the alpha command gone like it was never there. "did he hurt you, sweetheart?"
"i'm okay," you whisper, and you realize you're shaking. "jungwon..."
"i'm here," he says, and he pulls you into his arms, holding you so tight you can barely breathe but you don't want him to let go. "i'm here, i've got you. i'm sorry i was late. i'm so sorry."
"you came," you say into his shoulder, breathing in his scent, letting it calm your racing heart. "you came for me."
"always," he promises, and he presses kisses to your hair, your temple, anywhere he can reach. "always, my love. always."
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
he takes you home that night, drives you in his small car with one hand on the wheel and the other holding yours, thumb tracing circles on your palm.
he doesn't push for conversation, just lets you sit in the silence, processing what happened.
when you get to your apartment, he walks you to the door like always, but this time, when you turn to say goodnight, you can't make yourself let go of his hand.
"stay," you whisper, and his eyes widen. "not for... not for that. just... stay with me. i don't want to be alone tonight."
he nods, following you inside, and you change into pajamas while he makes tea in your kitchen, moving with that easy familiarity he's developed over months of visits.
when you come out, he's sitting on your couch with two mugs, and he pats the space beside him.
you curl into his side, head on his shoulder, and he wraps an arm around you, holding you close.
you speak after a while. "what you said to him. that i was yours." you feel him tense slightly, and you rush to continue. "i liked it. i know i shouldn't, i know it's possessive and archaic, but when you said that... i felt safe. i felt... claimed."
jungwon is quiet for a long moment, his hand stroking up and down your arm in a soothing rhythm.
"i meant it," he finally says, voice low.
"not as ownership. never that. but as... promise. as intention. you are mine, y/n, in the only way that matters to me. you're the one i want to build a life with. the one i want to wake up next to, and come home to, and grow old beside. if you'll have me."
you sit up so you can look at him, really look at him, this beautiful alpha who is gentle and fierce and everything you never knew you needed.
"i'll have you," you say, and you watch his eyes fill with light. "jungwon... i think i've been yours since that first day in your shop."
he makes a sound, something broken and relieved, and then he's kissing you, finally, finally, his lips soft and warm against yours.
he tastes like the tea he was drinking and like promise, like forever, and you melt into him with a sigh that sounds like coming home.
he breaks the kiss to press his forehead to yours, breathing you in, his hands cradling your face like you're something precious.
"...can i scent you properly?" he asks, and there's that carefulness again, that constant checking to make sure you're comfortable, that you're consenting. "just... so everyone knows. so i don't have to worry about alphas like that anymore."
"yes," you say, tilting your head to expose your neck, your most vulnerable place. "yes, please."
he makes a soft noise, reverent, and then his lips are on your throat, pressing gentle kisses to your pulse point, your gland, breathing his scent onto your skin until you smell like him, like sandalwood and old paper and safety.
it feels intimate, more intimate than the kiss, this claiming that is about protection as much as possession.
when he pulls back, his eyes are dark with emotion, and he smiles at you with so much love you feel like you might burst with it.
"my beautiful omega," he says, and you know it's true.
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
the next morning, you wake up in his arms on your couch, still in your pajamas, and he makes you breakfast while you watch, sleepy and content.
he kisses you over the eggs, sweet and lingering, and when he leaves for his morning shift at the shop, he presses one last kiss to your scented throat.
"text me when you're home from work," he says. "i want to pick you up for dinner."
"are you asking me on a date, alpha?" you tease, and he grins, all teeth and joy.
"i'm asking you on every date," he corrects. "for the rest of our lives, if you'll let me."
"that sounds perfect," you say, and you mean it.
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
the thing about being courted by jungwon, you learn, is that he never stops courting you.
even after you're official, even after you've moved in together and your apartment smells like both of you and your friends have stopped asking when the wedding is because they know you'll tell them when you're ready... even then, he brings you wildflowers and learns your new coffee orders and texts you in the middle of the day just to say he's thinking of you.
and yes, he still gets jealous. still territorial, still protective.
when alphas look at you too long in restaurants, when betas flirt with you at the library, when anyone implies that they could take better care of you than he does.
but he channels it into love, into showing you every day why you chose him, why you'll keep choosing him.
he never makes you feel small. never makes you feel owned. he makes you feel cherished. worshipped. like the most precious thing in his world.
which, he tells you often, you are.
"you're my heart," he whispers one night, months later, when you're curled together in the nest you've built in your shared bedroom above the bookstore, your bonded scents lingering in the air. "my home. my everything."
"you're my alpha," you reply, turning to kiss him, soft and sweet. "my love. my jungwon."
he smiles against your lips, and you feel the rumble of his purr where your chests are pressed together, that contented alpha sound that means he's happy, that he's yours, that you're safe.
and you are. you really, truly are.
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
six months later, he proposes with a ring tucked inside a first edition of your favorite book, and you cry so hard you can barely say yes.
he cries too, just a little, and you kiss away the tears and promise him forever.
a year after that, you're standing in front of your friends and family, sooyoung crying loudly in the front row, and jungwon is looking at you like you're the only person in the world.
when the officiant tells him he can kiss his mate, he lifts you off your feet and spins you around and kisses you until you're both breathless.
"my omega," he whispers against your lips, and the crowd cheers.
"my alpha," you whisper back, and you know that this, this right here, is everything you were always meant to find.
the bookstore on the corner of elm and birch is where your story began, but it's not where it ends. it ends here, in his arms, in your shared life above the shop with janggu snoring in the window, in the beautiful forever you're building together, one gentle, fierce, perfect day at a time.
and when you walk past the window display years later, your daughter's hand in yours, her small face scrunched up as she tries to place the familiar scent of sandalwood and old paper, you smile and tell her the story of how her father fell in love with her mother over a cat and a cup of tea.
jungwon comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around both you and your daughter, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.
"she has your stubborn streak," he murmurs with a smile, making your daughter giggle.
"he is the best alpha," you tell her, leaning back against his chest.
"the kindest, and the strongest, and the most loving. and he waited for me until i was ready, and then he loved me forever."
she looks up at you with eyes like her father's, dark and full of secrets, and she smiles.
"i want a love like that," she says.
"you'll find it," jungwon promises, squeezing her little hand before turning to press another kiss to your lips.
"when you're ready, when it's right, you'll find someone who loves you exactly as you are. difficult and stubborn and perfect."
your alpha. your love. your forever. your jungwon
⋆˚✿˖°
an✧˖°. i hope you guys liked this!! i dont know if i'll write omegaverse again just because i had to do SO much research about this and i STILL dont know if this is right at all lmao. again, thanks so much to the anon for req!! reblogs are always welcome! please give feedback, it helps me more then you think it does :) if you like this story and you want to see something specific please send an ask!!
He insists every time to Professor Snape that it’s not his doing, bringing the same weak ass apology as he enters the room minutes pass expected.
Professor Snape never believes him. No professor would. Not when he’s known for being quite the persuader.
But it’s not his fault, truly.
Not that he’s complaining when the reason is entirely because of your pouty clingy self, it's physically inescapable for him to make it on time caught in the tsunami wave of kisses you pile upon him.
You can’t let go yet, too bothered by the idea of departing him for the lunch period. “babe—" he mumbles against your lips, the tone lacking any true authority coming out more like a wounded sigh. Instead, his fingers tighten their hold, his eyes still fluttered shut because it's not as if he cares about his tardiness, but if he's late again, he's sure Snape will have his tongue ceasing all future excuses.
He grins against your lips, when you ignore his warning, shushing any further weak attempts at protest with your tongue, hands cradling his hair you yank him impossibly closer. The two of you lose yourself against the stone walls, a flurry of heat charging between your bodies, it's a sickening display of PDA to the passing students entering the great hall, but all you're hungry for is Mattheo.
“Mr riddle.” The recognizable drawl of Professor Snape squeezes barely breathable space between your bodies, and Mattheo pulls back with a bated breath. That's all the acknowledgment he offers Snape; eyes locked on you taking in the swell of your lips, the dazed gaze of lust struck on him.
He licks his lips with a smug smirk, pressing one final kiss to your cheek whispering a taunting comment that makes you fluster with giggles, before he turns walking past Snape, whistling a tune of satisfied triumph.
Unfortunately for you, no man has ever given you some good head. Fortunately for you, your best friend is more annoyed by it than you are. It’s just a favor, right?
or the one where your best friend jake eats you out as a way to admit his own feelings for you, also, apparently sunghoon existing is an issue.
minors dni! | kindly leave feedback and reblog to give bestie jake conflicting feelings
WORDCOUNT― 16.1 k
PAIRING― jake x afab reader (ft. sunghoon)
CONTENT― a lot of waiting, like to the point it even annoyed me, very fluffy stuff , typical best friends to fuck buddies to “actually, I had feelings this whole time”, jealousy, jake is whiny and needy when he’s horny, reader thinks it’s cute. angst if you’re a baby about it
OTHER CHARACTERS― sunghoon as the mutual friend who bangs reader
NOTE― this was originally written by me on my other blog [@/ncteez], if you’ve read it before, that’s why!
smut tags under cut::
smut tags― BIG DICKED BESTIE, pussy eating (he gets IN THERE), masturbation in the form of dry humping a mattress and then into his hand, finger fucking, cum eating, sunghoon hook up, morning sex, lazy fingering, lazy fuck, dirty talk , unprotected sex, awkward build up,raw grinding, no blowjob in sight sorry lmao, deep penetration, cream pie, kind of cum stuffing but like not entirely intentional, cheesy love stuff
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
“What? Again?” Jake says, leaning back against the couch with a groan and a smack to his own forehead.
“Yeah, so basically he went down on me for less than a minute but expected me to, like, go long enough to ‘swallow’ or whatever.” You continue the story in a frustrated huff, shaking your head in self-pity.
Jake groans louder, leaning himself forward again and swiping his drink from your coffee table to take a long and thoughtful sip.
“How many times is that, then?” He says between sips, glancing around the room as if he’s in deep thought. “I can’t help but think you pick these kinds of guys on purpose at this point.”
You look at him in mock pain, grabbing his drink and taking your own thoughtful sip of it.
“I dunno, they always talk big game during phone sex and stuff. I figure eventually one of them will live up to it.” You drone on, internally marking your recent date’s name off of your call-back list.
“Be honest with me, have you ever actually gotten good head? Like how would you know if they’re bad if you have nothing good to compare them to?” Jake asks, letting you mindlessly drink his beverage.
It’s not weird to be having these types of conversations with him, if at all, something would seem off if you didn’t. He’s the only person in your life that you’ve ever felt this close to. At this point, you think he’d have to chase you down with a bloody hatchet for things to be awkward. Which is…kind of interesting, you guess.
“Well, I mean,” You think for a moment too long for his liking, but he gives you the space to finish your answer. “It feels good and all but it’s not like I’ve ever gotten off by it.”
“Correction –” Jake starts, blinking right at you. “You’ve never been given the chance to get off on it.” His bright smile shows through his words, and you’re sure he’s mocking you at this point.
“Yeah, yeah. Yada, yada. I have terrible taste in sexual partners but to be fair, it’s not like the pool is that big to choose from.”
He nods in agreement, humming as if to end the conversation and still watching you sip at his drink.
“Would you be opposed to–” He pauses, making eye contact with you. “Y’know, I could do it for you.”
You pause, nearly dropping his drink out of your hand but thankfully your grip actually tightens on it instead. You swallow as you look at him, searching his face to see if this is some kind of joke.
“Jae-fucking-yun,” You deadpan, sitting his cup back down on your coffee table and leaning toward him, staring him down. “You’d really do that, for me?”
You bat your eyelashes at him, mostly playing it off as a half-joke just to see if he’s fucking with you or not.
“How else are you gonna experience it?”
You stare him down harder.
“You say that like you’re some sort of pussy-eating-god,” You narrow your eyes. “Are you?”
He shrugs casually with his little smile, leaning back on your couch and stretching his arms out. One of his hands lands behind your shoulder and you lean into it.
“I’d let you be the judge of that if you’re up for it.”
Finally, you decide that he’s definitely not joking and you’re definitely gonna do it because like, that’s your best friend. Experiencing your firsts with him comes almost as naturally as walking. You had your first kiss with him, albeit it was a dare. You experienced your first concert with him, your first break up, your first failed exam, and even your first legal drink in a club. What’s so bad about letting him eat you out?
“Right now?” You ask, quirking your brow and tilting your head.
“Now, tomorrow, next week. Whenever.” He runs his hands through his hair as he says it and only now are you starting to really tune into his features that you’ve already found handsome.
Day after day you’ve seen him on this couch and in other states of dress without really thinking twice about how his lips would feel on you (despite that short first kiss). You’ve seen him kissing all up on other people, you’ve seen him in the club with wet lips from alcohol, you’ve seen him all messy and eating spaghetti at his parent’s house– but for some reason, his lips seem different now. His sleepy eyes seem different, his messy hair seems like something that should be tugged on, his fucking jawline–
“Why’re you staring at me like that?” He looks at you up and down as if he’s judging. “You wanna go right now?”
You nod slowly, letting the traces of any lusty thoughts you’ve had about him in your life come to the front in waves. Then you quickly shake your head.
“Wait, no,” You roll your eyes more at yourself than him. “I haven’t showered since my date, maybe I should, uh…”
“Uh – yeah. Please do.” He grimaces, that same dopey smile coming back after a moment.
“Fair.” You roll your eyes. “Gonna go shower then.”
Part of you wonders if like, he’s being totally legit. For all you know, you’ll get out of the shower and he’ll be too busy doing something else, or like, he’ll go home or something. No hurt in seeing though.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
In the bathroom, you can’t help the feeling in your chest at even the thought that this may be about to happen.
Excitement. That’s what you feel. Not because it’s Jake. Well, maybe a little bit because you wanna see what his tongue is all about but more so because you’re about to get some presumably good head.
You shower thoughtfully, cleaning every part of your body and feeling little goosebumps rise and fall with each sensation of your air conditioning snaking its way past your shower doors. When you get out, you lotion your body so you’re all nice and soft and brush your teeth just in case things go a little further. You’re not expecting it to, but y’know, nothing wrong with having fun if it comes to it.
After all, he’s doing you a favor by going down on you, the least you can do is smell good, be soft, and totally prepared for if he were to suggest more, right? Right. Anyway, you’re all showered up and opt to just let your hair do its own thing as you throw on your shirt and shorts. You ignore the panties at this point, because why not?
When you get back to the living room, Jake isn’t there. Naturally, you check your bedroom and there he is, still his normal self and lounging against your headboard while flipping through videos on his phone.
“And she’s back,” he comments, reaching a hand out as if to invite you to your own bed. “Change your mind yet?”
“Not even for a second,” you smile as you take a spot in front of him, your entire body facing him as you pull your knees up and lay your chin against your arms. “Have you?”
He seems to fall into a more serious tone now, locking his phone before tossing it to the side and flicking his eyes up to look at you, scanning your legs in the shorts.
“No,” he chokes back, shocked to see straight between the gap of your shorts and actually lay eyes on the point of this whole situation for the first time. “And you’re not wearing anything under those shorts.”
You watch his face and the way it turns from your best friend into something you’ve seen time and time again from men you’ve gone home with. It’s sexy on him though, for some reason.
“Figured I’d save you the trouble?”
He smiles, now moving himself toward you and reaching a hand behind to cradle your head.
“Lay back,” he says softly, in a voice you’ve only heard a few times from him, “you could have left the shorts off too though.” He adds with an even softer laugh.
For some reason, it makes you feel shy. His hand guiding you to lay back all while grabbing the pillow from behind him and placing it under your head so that you’re nice and comfortable. You watch him look at you and honestly, it’s in a way you can’t remember him ever looking at you before. If this is how he looks at other women, you may be a little jealous.
It feels more intense right now than you thought it would.
“You’re being weird.” You say offhandedly, looking away from him and trying to keep the heat from flushing to your cheeks.
“You’re letting me eat you out, how am I being weird?” He leans up from you, putting two hands on your knees but still waiting for your eyes to meet his again. “You want me to act like the other dudes? Dip my tongue in then wrap it up?”
You groan, rolling your eyes back to him and analyzing the way his big hands drape over your knees.
“Okay, fair.” You admit defeat, feeling his warm palms move down the back of your thighs and to your ass.
“Lift up,” He says, quickly pulling the shorts off of you when you do as he asks.
“Oh–” He gasps quietly. “Damn.”
He stares directly between your legs, bracing his hands back at your knees and spreading your legs a bit. He angles his head in different ways to really look at you, seemingly enamored with your pussy as a whole.
“Look who’s staring now.” You chuckle, instinctively hiding your face from him despite knowing he isn’t looking up at you.
“Yeah– I am,” he admits, now adjusting himself on the bed to lay down, his head easily slotting between your legs as he rests his chin on your lower belly and looks up at you. “You can pull my hair or do whatever, I’m just gonna…like, start I guess. Tell me if it’s something you don’t like.”
As normal as this isn’t, he’s speaking similar to how the two of you had taken on projects before. He typically takes the lead but offers you control more often than not. All you can do is nod at him, trying to comprehend that it’s your best friend’s head between your legs right now.
When he pulls his head back up with one last nod of confirmation, the first thing you feel is his fingers slipping up your folds, the other braced on your thigh and holding your legs open. You release a short sigh of relief at the feeling and he instantly smirks at it.
“I haven’t even started yet,” He whispers, glancing up at you before fixing his eyes back on the expanse of your pussy. He uses his ring and pointer finger to spread your lips open, and the middle finger to rub against your hole only for a brief moment before he licks his lips and releases his own sigh of relief. “God, Sunghoon would be so jealous right now.”
You look down at him, wanting to ask him what the fuck he’s talking about and why he’d bring up Sunghoon right now, but you find yourself staring at him instead. Breath caught in your throat with the way his eyes meet yours before letting his tongue hang from his mouth as if presenting it to you in a cheeky way.
He’s so fast with it too, with the way he replaces his middle finger with his tensed tongue, forcing you to swallow your words and hold your breath even more. You can feel him lick and nibble against each of your lips before moving inward, flattening his tongue to lick one long, languid, and wet stripe up until meeting your clit.
He wraps his lips around it, sucking once, hard, before releasing it and pulling back to look at you.
“This okay?”
Goddamn him for making you have to talk right now. You’re still trying to comprehend the fact that he said Sunghoon, fucking Sunghoon of all people would be jealous that he’s doing this right now. That’s definitely a question for later, because yeah, it’s fucking okay.
More than okay.
You nod to him, throwing your arm over your eyes and instinctively bucking your hips up towards his hovering mouth.
“Oh, that was hot,” He groans out his compliment, watching the way you hide your face before he pulls his eyes back down and uses his fingers to spread your pussy open wider, enough to see your hole pulsate when he dips down to blow against it, “I can see how wet you’re getting, Is it because of me or is it just because someone is playing with your pussy?”
You half groan half moan at that, mostly because hearing these words from him is something that feels entirely too sexual. As if he hasn’t already tasted you, as if you’re not spread out by his fingers right now. You ignore his words, yet, your brain holds onto them with white knuckles and your hips buck toward him again.
“Not a talker, got it.” He notes, watching your hips chase his breath.
He watches for much longer than you’d like for him to, and you’re about to lift up and accuse him of being just like the other guys but he shuts your thoughts off so fucking fast when you feel his lips on you again.
His tongue explores every part of you, licking and sucking against areas you didn’t even know would feel good until his mouth lands against your clit again. This time, you can’t help it, you grind up and he hums at it as he braces your legs open just enough to skew his head and move his tongue back down.
He’s slurping. Lost in the moment as he does it. Tasting you in full and getting a warm, pleasant feeling each time your legs try to close and your hips buck up for more. He…can’t believe this is finally happening. Fucking finally.
Unsure if you’d let him, he tries anyway. He stiffens his tongue, circling your hole before pressing just a bit, giving you just enough pressure that you feel frustrated. So frustrated that you’re the one who ends up finishing his attempt at something new. You reach down and lace your fingers in his hair, and let out a soft, needy little moan for him.
That sound forces one from his chest too, he can’t help it, really. With the way you’re grabbing his hair and holding his head in place, pressing yourself against his mouth so much harder than before. Ah, he really, really loves doing this for you.
To think any man would already be done? To think anyone could like, not wanna eat you out? Insanity. Stupid, stupid fucking men.
He can taste how wet you are now, truly taste it as he stretches your hole as much as he can with his tongue and another groan of his own. It’s probably embarrassing, truly, but he doesn’t care.
Both of you are moaning at this point as you hold his head in place and grind your hips harder than you think you are. He loves it, you love it. So much that you really are barely comprehending that your best friend could do this the whole time?! And never told you until now?!
Jake is just as drunk on the moment as you are though. Totally lost in the scent and taste of you as he continues to lap away, constantly trying to prove that you can and will get off from his mouth alone. And honestly? It’s at the point that he figures he can use his fingers now too considering you let him spread you open with his tongue. What’s a little more gonna hurt, anyway?
The taste of you alone has him in heaven, cursing any man who didn’t take advantage of your pussy against their mouth. He can easily slip a finger into a hole this wet and needy, gasping in awe before glancing up at you.
God, the way you immediately ride his finger, no huff or sound of irritation that he’s pulled his tongue back now. Your face. Fuck.
He watches as you shamelessly chase the small amount of pleasure he can offer in terms of just head and fingering. He can imagine how hot you’d be without that shirt on, with your legs around his hips, with your mouth wrapped around him. You look blissed out, soaking his finger and keeping your hand in his hair, mindlessly grabbing and scratching at him.
Making quick work, he goes back for your clit, circling his tongue around the bundle of nerves and noticing how you ride his finger harder. He can’t help but smirk against you when you do it either.
The movement of your hips constantly humping against him is enough, and he can’t help but groan at the sound of your slick squelching out of you and warming his chin, he can’t fucking help but grind his own hips forward when you act like this. His cock is so painfully hard for you right now, at the taste of you, that all he can do is chase the mattress beneath him. Tensing his muscles and moaning against your clit shamelessly at the jolts of pleasure he gets from it.
He slips another finger in with ease, feeling how much wetter you’ve gotten in the way the slide is filthy and audible. You groan out at that too, feeling his tongue flick relentlessly against your clit and only now moving your free hand from your face and trailing to your stomach.
You can’t even talk, so you don’t. You lift your shirt up until you can at least rub against your nipples, just to heighten the pleasure your best friend is so graciously giving you.
His eyes roll back when you do that, only to fall back on you and get a frustrated grunt from him. He’s a bit annoyed that the shirt is still covering you despite your hand under it, fondling yourself. He’s thinking with his cock, so fucking aroused that he doesn’t think twice when he aggressively lifts your shirt up to your chin and watches the way your fingers poke and prod at yourself.
He inhales a sharp breath at the image, and his hips fuck harder against the mattress at that. His fingers speed up and now he’s focused. You feel him all over you from the waist down, his tongue flicking and lips sucking against your swollen clit, his fingers relentlessly fucking into you, your fingers heightening those sensations by playing with your own tits– then, oh, then you notice.
Jake, you’re best fucking friend, is so goddamn horny that he’s dry humping against your bed and whining out moans against your clit. Probably to avoid asking for more, to avoid making you feel obligated to get him off too, to avoid anything you may not want or consent to. And that’s why he’s your best friend.
It doesn’t take long after that, your hips come to a stop as you watch him get himself off all while getting you off, and you find your orgasm bubbling up much faster than if you’d have imagined solely because of the image in front of you.
“Jake, you’re fucking whining.” You groan almost as needy as he does, rolling your hips up in a stutter.
He was almost gonna stop, because yeah, he is whining. Gasping for air but only tasting you, only swallowing up the moans you give to him, only inhaling the dull scent of the fruity soap you used when you showered. But, you moan louder after you say that. You like it. You like seeing him act so desperate. So he continues, shamefully reaching one of his hands between himself and the bed and quickly shoving it down his pants, circling around his cock and continuing to fuck into it.
If he thinks hard enough, you’re what he’s fucking right now, and technically, he is. With his fingers and mouth at least. When your hips stutter more, he fucks harder against his hand and holds his fingers inside of you as deep as he can get them. There, he sucks against your clit until you’re the one whining louder.
You’re shocked at how quickly you’re getting off. Releasing a splash against him in a breathy, choked up sob. Nearly squeezing his head between your thighs to the point he almost misses the way you breathe out strings of praises toward him. But he hears them.
He definitely heard you say that he looks sexy with your hand in his hair, and god, did he ride off of the fact that you encouraged him to get off with you. Regardless of if you knew if he could or not, regardless of if you knew his hand was providing just enough pleasure for him to do just that.
There, as your orgasm subsides with his tongue still flicking your sensitive clit, you watch him writhe his hips against your mattress, his eyes slammed shut, and his breath coming out in pornographic moans. So this is what Jake looks like when he cums. It’s desperate, but somehow, it feels passionate too.
You’re all dazed after the fact, pussy pulsing and tingling from the loss of his lips and fingers once he pulls back and lays against your bed with a lazy smile. His pants are uncomfortable, but he doesn’t mind as he wipes his hand across his shirt and watches the way you catch your breath.
“So,” He tries to say, clearing his throat. “I– um– hope that’s what you needed?”
You’re shy. You’re never fucking shy, especially towards Jake, but god.
“Um, yeah,” you sigh out, lifting from the bed and looking back at him. Part of you wondering if that’s what it’s supposed to be like when someone gives you good head, or if that’s just…what it’s like when Jake gives head.
For some reason, you genuinely don’t think another man would ever eat you out to that level again. There’s no way, based on experience.
“It was definitely what I needed.”
He nods in a shy way, reminding himself that his pants are fucking nasty right now. So, he goes to stand up and extends a hand out to you.
“Let’s go clean up.”
You shake your head, not at all wanting to move from this bed. He nods again, pulling your shirt back down for you and leaning to look at you.
“I’m gonna bring you something to clean up with, and I’m gonna shower.”
You smile at him, a bit dazed as you make yourself comfortable on your messy sheets as you think hard about the fact that this dopey motherfucker really never told you how good he was at this? Rude.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Jake looks all proud of himself when he comes back to your room and cuddles into bed with you much like he always has.
“I didn’t expect to sleep over, I have work in the morning.” He whispers in a rasp against your back, curling around you like the perfect big spoon.
You’re quick to turn on his work alarm on your phone, like you always do when he crashes during weeknights. Because, what best friend doesn’t have alarms set for each other anyway?
After a few more long moments of silence, you try to talk. Mostly because your brain is swimming with the fact that, like, you’re not sure but it’s just– wow.
“Hey, um–”
“Hmm?” He hums out in a sleep-heavy voice.
“Did you actually enjoy doing that?”
“Are you fucking kidding me? I literally came in my pants.” His sudden louder voice causes you to jump, but you relax back into his gasp.
“Oh,” You think hard. “Is this gonna change stuff between us?”
“Probably, but not in like, a bad way. More like in the can-i-eat-you-out-all-the-time-way.” He responds with mock-confidence, shifting a bit and hugging you closer to him, as if to hide the way he’s trying to make this sound like a joke. For his own comfort, really.
You smile.
“And don’t tell other dudes my secrets.” He adds.
“I won't.”
Jake has his own smile from behind you, wondering if he really is just that good at eating pussy. The truth is, he’s done it a handful of times but he was just really really interested in doing it for you. For…reasons.
・・・・・・THIS WAS ORIGINALLY TWO PARTS, NOW IT’S ONE. YOU’RE WELCOME・・・・・・
“Hey, um,”
“Hmm?” Jake hummed out in a sleep-heavy voice.
“Did you actually enjoy doing that for me?”
“Are you fucking kidding me? I literally came in my pants.” He responded in a sudden, louder voice.
“Oh,” You think hard. “Is this gonna change stuff between us?”
“Probably, but not in like, a bad way. More like in the can-i-eat-you-out-all-the-time-way.”
You remember the conversation that happened after he went down on you like it was yesterday, and he’s a goddamn liar. Nothing changed in your friendship with him, and he certainly doesn’t ask to eat you out all the time either. If anything, you’ve felt disappointed time and time again with the aftermath of that night.
It’s weighing on you in a strange way. At first, the weeks following the first and apparently, only time Jake went down on you, you almost expected him to ask for a repeat. You wanted to return the favor. You wanted him to ask but he never did. Even when he came over to hang out, even when you tried to lay down hints.
Nothing changed.
In fact, he doesn’t even talk about it. He doesn’t look at you as if he’s tasted you, and he doesn’t act like he came in his palm against your bed, right in front of you. He’s just…Jake. Sweet, caring, aloof, Jake. And you’re just you. Except you want to be someone else at this point. Someone that he does feel differently around after that.
Maybe you weren’t a memorable event for him when it comes to intimacy. Maybe he prefers to pretend it never happened? Maybe he was really just doing you a favor and intending for it to never go past the initial act. Even with his sweet words after the fact. Maybe, that was just to reassure you so it wouldn’t be awkward.
You’re a version of you who wants to know what the fuck he’s thinking about. Did it taste bad? Did he get cold feet about it all? Arguably, if things did get weird after what happened, you’d feel more comfortable than you do with the situation as it stands.
It is weird now, but only because it’s not weird for him.
Even now, as you lay across the same bed where he had his head nestled between your legs, you can almost feel the tingle of what it felt like. The way his hair tickled your thighs, and the way his fingers laid against the flesh of your legs. The sun is beaming in through your windows and it still doesn’t feel as warm as it did when he cuddled against you that night. It’s been weeks and your heart is sick for him by this point. Sick with confusion, angst, lust, maybe even love if you think hard enough.
You miss him a lot more than before as you throw your hand up to your face in a gentle slap as if to knock yourself out of it. This is insane. Every day you wake up feeling this way, thinking of him, and where you stand with him. It wasn’t like this at first, you truly expected him to come back for more and now you’re just sitting here with a loop of reasons as to why he never did.
Insane. You’ve gotten head from so many people and didn’t think twice about them the next day, Jake is different though. You knew he would be too.
Why is Jake any different? Why do you miss him so badly right now? Why couldn’t he pick up on it either? Even worse, why do you feel like doing that with him was a mistake?
He’s with his parents for the weekend, and you’re here still thinking about shit that should have been released with your orgasm.
You haven’t gone on any dates since that day, you haven’t met up with any one other than him to hang out, and at this point you’re starting to feel a little pathetic for falling in so deep. It’s entirely one sided, he makes that very clear.
So, naturally, you hop up with the confidence of a damn lion and decide that today, it ends. You will stop making it weird between the two of you, if he has even noticed anyway. You’re gonna get dressed, look hot as fuck, and sit on your couch swiping left and right until you find a hot piece of man that’s willing to take you out tonight.
That’s when something dawns on you. You remember Jake briefly mentioning Sunghoon to you, which seemed more like an implication if anything at the time.
Why would Sunghoon be jealous of what happened? You can admit to being attracted to him but it’s not like the two of you hang out often or anything, and it’s also kind of a rule for yourself that you don’t fuck within the friendgroup. Jake was an exception, solely because that’s your best friend. Or, well, was your best friend.
Now though? Who cares about these little rules you create for yourself? You need a confidence boost. You need your mind to be taken off of this little spiral you keep falling into. Most of all, you need to be proven wrong that you can still get off without it being him.
So, texting Sunghoon? Easy.
Thankfully, Sunghoon texting you back at lightning speed seemed even easier for him.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Well, Sunghoon sure did a great job at getting your mind off of Jake for the past couple of hours.
You lay here in his bed, feeling your body tingle from the sensation of just how well he lived up to the promise of a good time. For hours he touched you, licked against you, fucked you. And yeah, you did fucking enjoy it.
But why now? Why did you only just decide to give Sunghoon a shot? Why are you lying in his bed, with his heavy arms thrown across you as he snores gently behind you, feeling the need to cry? Why do you wish it was Jake, your best friend who seemed so eager to please and then suddenly leaped ten feet back as if he never suggested it in the first place?
Your brain is confused despite your body relaxing itself from the state of bliss you were able to experience. You really did enjoy this time with Sunghoon and think that maybe, if you continue to make late night visits to him, the need for your best friend will weaken in time.
God, if only Jake would just talk about it.
And you fall asleep thinking about that. About how you’ve let your feelings weaken you to the point that it’s genuinely hard to enjoy being pleasured by someone who actually has the capability.
And, well, you wake up much the same, except Sunghoon was quite quick with his fingers upon waking up himself. Showing you that even if the person you want doesn’t have a thing to do with you, he sure does.
“Good morning,” He rasps in a sleepy voice, fingers already traveling down your stomach as he hugs up against you from behind. “Glad you finally came through for me.”
You quirk a brow. Right, Jake is the whole reason you're here. If not for mentioning him, at least.
“I finally came through?” You chuckle, your body jolting at the ticklish sensation of his lips brushing the back of your neck. “You knew I was single, why didn’t you call me?”
You feel a harsher kiss against your neck, and his fingers only travel further down now.
“Bro code.” He whispers, dipping his fingers between your still naked thighs. “I’m not overstepping if you’re the one asking for it.” He slides his fingers gently back and forth between your legs, trying to work you up. “And you did.”
You think hard about that. Bro code, overstepping limits, not coming onto someone unless they do first solely because someone must have asked him not to. And you’d think even harder about who that someone might be, but instead your brain is quickly thrown into the morning sex routine Sunghoon must offer to all of his lovers.
You enjoy it too, the small moments of bliss where you’re not in your head about what you could have possibly done wrong with Jake for you to end up feeling this way. It’s a brief moment of numbness though, feeling his fingers pleasure you gently can only do so much to quiet your thoughts.
“Are you saying one of your friends had dibs on me or something?” You laugh in a half-joke, arching your back to rub your ass up and against the bigger and warmer man behind you.
“You could say that, I’m assuming he missed his chance though–” Sunghoon whispers snidely, now satisfied with how you already drip for him and sliding one of his fingers into you. His other hand, being used to hike one of your legs up and against his hip to open you up for him. “You wouldn’t be here doing this if he didn’t.”
You clench around his finger unintentionally, pretending you don’t know who you’re both referring to. Mostly because there’s no way in hell it’s your best friend, seeing as how he’s acting like you don’t exist outside of platonic friendship with him. Then again, who else could it be? Jay? Heeseung? Fucking Jungwon? As fucking if.
“I guess he did miss his chance–” You breathe, now allowing yourself to give into the lazy and slow pleasure being offered. “Deeper.”
And he listens. Sunghoon goes deeper and deeper with one finger, then two, then three, up until you slip his fingers out of you and plead through your body to have more. Deeper still, holding you from behind, plunging in as if to intentionally fuck the confusion out of you. As if to, maybe, prove that Jake isn’t the only man who can please you now.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
When you eventually find yourself walking through your front door, you do feel better. Sunghoon did have some type of capability to make you feel as desired as Jake did. After all, it’s not often that you sleep over with a man, better yet get fucked again as soon as you wake up with him.
Even so, you know Jake will be back tomorrow, wanting to hang out yet again as if nothing happened. Thankfully, with Sunghoon around, maybe you can pretend alongside him. Maybe even forget it ever happened.
You can argue that for the first time, you’re even a bit annoyed when you see his name pop up in your notifications with a call as if you’re not right in the middle of texting Sunghoon. It’s not that you were trying to go back over to his house or anything, but man, he sure is trying to get you to come back for a third round already.
Maybe you just like when people are eager to please you, or maybe you don’t like to feel as if you’re the one chasing another person. Still, you answer Jake, seemingly releasing all of this resentment you’ve built up for him in an instant.
“What?” You huff into the phone, feeling it vibrate with another text from Sunghoon and wanting nothing more than to see what his fourth reason would be for you to come over not even two hours after you left.
“What?” Jake responds in confusion to you. “What do you mean ‘what’?”
“I mean what do you want? I’m busy.” You huff again with a roll of your eyes, flopping back on your bed.
“Oh god, something happened.” Jake groans, though he was simply calling you because he missed your voice. “What’s wrong?”
“No, not really. Was just trying to figure out what I’m doing tonight when you rudely interrupted me.”
Something is off, Jake can feel it. Your voice has a bite to it, one that feels like you’re mad at him. Not to mention, he knows what you mean when you say you’re trying to find something to do for the night. He tries to reserve his feelings though, despite wanting that something to be him.
“Oh, I know there’s an event at one of the clubs downtown tonight I think. Jay mentioned it–” He pauses briefly to hear another annoyed breath from you. “You’re not gonna go with him?”
“Nah,” You wave off dismissively. “I think I’m just gonna go hang out with Sunghoon.”
You don’t notice at all the brief and panicked silence for a solid second and a half before Jake reacts.
“Wait, what?” He says quickly after managing to process those words, trying not to sound as panicked as he knows he feels. “Sunghoon? Why?!”
God, he knew he shouldn’t have said anything about Sunghoon that day, but his confidence was overflowing and he couldn’t help but boast at the time. It’s come back to shoot him in the dick, knowing full well that Sunghoon has been trying to get you into bed since he fucking met you. Hearing you ask for him in this context is something that makes his blood run cold.
“Relax, I was with him last night. It’s kind of like, maybe gonna be a normal thing now.”
You refuse to pick up on Jake’s tone. He had all the time in the world to make you feel something other than confusion, and this is just fucking petty at this point. He clearly doesn’t want to have anything with you, so why in the hell should you just sit around hoping? Waiting?
“Sunghoon? You want to fuck Sunghoon?” He asks in a lower tone, trying to convince himself that he has to be mishearing you. You can hear him shuffle around and close a door behind him, showing that he doesn’t want his parents to hear him. But the frustration showing blatantly in his voice is somehow…satisfying.
“I already did. I figured he would show me a good time since no one else can, and he did.” You shrug with slight disobedience. Resentment bubbling up in your gut to the extent that you almost want to grill him for having any type of opinion about it.
Jake hangs on those words for a second. “Since no one else can.”
He really thought he was the one who could do it for you.
“Yeah, but–” Jake starts, feeling like a child almost in the way he protests despite not being in a position to have a say in who you sleep with. “You know what? Nevermind. Do what you want.” He adds blankly, hanging up before you can get another word in.
Honestly, he doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong because you acted like he was fully capable of doing everything right. Hanging out with him consistently after the fact, not making it weird, flirting with him, asking him to sleep over.
He wasn’t sure if he should ask you for more or if he should ask you to be his girlfriend first. The whole reason he’s with his parents right now is because he felt the need to run home to his Mom for girl advice. Embarrassing? Yes, but he really wanted to do things right. He cares about you.
He needed just one single weekend away, and the second he’s gone you’re out fucking other dudes? Fucking Sunghoon?
By now, that asshole is probably feeling like he’s on top of the world for getting to touch you. Not even he has done what Sunghoon managed to do with you by now and he can’t help but feel pissed about it.
Whether you’re his or not, Sunghoon never should have been a fucking option.
So, he calls you right back, pushing back the feeling of how pathetic it seems considering he’s the one who hung up on you. Then, when you don’t pick up, he immediately feels his stomach drop.
You must be talking to Sunghoon, you must be setting up a time and place to meet with him. And Jake has heard that Sunghoon knows how to fuck. Other people have said he’s good in bed. Surely, if you’ve already been with him once and you’re still wanting to go back to him, those other people weren’t lying.
To Jake, it feels like he’s losing you to his own friend with each passing second, and it’s weighing so heavy that spamming your phone with calls to interrupt whatever it is you’re doing right now feels like the right thing to do. In fact, it feels like it is the best thing in the world to do.
He calls again. You don’t answer.
Again.
“What?!” You answer, annoyed.
“Why would you even want Sunghoon?! Is he really that much better than I am?” He doesn’t think before he says it, because if he did, he wouldn’t have been able to say it at all.
It’s his turn to experience that awkward silence because in all fairness, you don’t know how to respond to that. You feel annoyed now, you feel confused and quite frankly, blind sided. Since when did he care?
“What’s that supposed to mean? You came onto me once and then never followed up.” You dead-pan at yourself in the mirror across your bedroom, speaking into the phone with a voice that seems scolding. “I don’t see why you’re mad that I’m hanging out with Sunghoon. We aren’t dating, Jake.”
“Since when? Who said I didn’t want to do it again?” Jake argues back in a whispered voice, showing you that he still can’t be as loud as he’d like to be. He chooses to ignore that last sentence though, pretending as if it doesn’t strike him in the center of the heart.
“Nobody! That’s the thing, you haven’t said anything about it. Not that you want to, not that you don’t. You’re just being you and it’s driving me up a fucking wall.”
Pause.
“You’re mad because I didn’t make it weird?” It’s like his brain clicks.
“Pretending it didn’t happen somehow makes it worse.” You lower your voice, ignoring the string of texts Sunghoon is sending you and listening closely to what Jake might say next. Your heart is racing through this hushed argument, and it feels good to admit that you kept thinking about it, even if he hasn’t.
“I wasn’t pretending that it didn’t happen,” He pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “I just wasn't sure what the next step was.”
You’re fucking appalled.
“Jake, I have been flirting with you since it happened because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. You’re the one who didn’t make any moves, so I figured you wanted it to end there.” You sigh loudly, but somehow feel a bit lighter. “Do you have any idea how that fucked with my confidence?”
Jake sighs along with you on the other end of the line.
“That’s why I was annoyed earlier, and that’s why I’m going to Sunghoon’s tonight.”
“What?” Jake’s voice raises a bit higher. “Still?!”
It’s the fact that he’s trying to explain himself. Had he known that you were confused by his lack of, um, touching you, he would have done it every day since it happened! Yet, you’re still considering Sunghoon an option? Knife to the heart, honestly.
Or maybe he’s not being clear enough with you about this.
You, on the other hand, nod your head as you hum a confirmation to him, smiling and wondering if this conversation will turn into an event that would, perhaps, have you cancel the hook-up with Sunghoon.
“Why? Are you jealous?” You pry.
“You really called him, and now I’m just sitting here in my old room trying to find a way to get to you before he does….again.” An inhale. “ Yes! I’m fucking jealous!”
You remain silent, trying to pretend that your pettiness isn’t solely to confirm what he seems to be implying to you. Then, an unintentional chuckle leaves your lips.
“Why are you laughing?!” His voice is raised again, and he doesn’t seem to stop spilling what he needs to say. “I wanted to do that for you for years and you somehow still didn’t know?” He pauses. “I always made it weird between us, what? You thought I treated all of my friends like that?”
You just listen, feeling your heart beat in time with each word he speaks. Strings of sentences like, “I’m going to kick his ass.” and “You thought I’d just eat you out as a friend?! You’re insane.” and “I would have come home last night if you wanted to feel good so badly, why did you have to go see him, of all people?”
The confirmation of Jake being the friend who forbade Sunghoon from making a move on you is right there, clear as day.
“Ah, so the Jake I know isn’t the Jake everyone else knows?” You respond, trying to force the tingling feeling in your gut to calm itself. Hearing him be so blatant to you has your heart doing flips, and it’s not an easy task to make it stop.
“Of-fucking-course not!” He rolls his eyes, you can definitely tell. “You had me wrapped around your pinky from day one.”
“And you really thought that, with the way you seemed so uninterested–” You pause, processing his words. “I would have asked you to come home from your parent’s house to get me off? For what? Funsies? You thought I'd be brave enough or selfish enough to ask such a thing?”
Jake sighs deeply, seemingly fed up with the situation.
“It wouldn’t be because you are selfish.” He breathes out, almost angrily. “And for the last time, I’m not uninterested. I was just trying to do things right. I don’t just want to fuck you, you know.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me until weeks after you ate me out?” You smile harder, trying to contain the heat flushing over your cheeks. “Until after I thought I had a pH imbalance and maybe you were just grossed out by me?!”
“I’m genuinely shocked you didn’t know already. Made me think you weren’t interested enough to like–” He pauses, not wanting to be too telling. “I guess waiting and being polite isn’t really your style. I should have known that though.”
You let him continue, because you can tell he’s simply taking breaths and small pauses to figure out how to express his thoughts to you.
“You can’t tell me that over the years, you never once noticed how often I stared at you.” He lowers his voice again, softening it to an extent that you actually feel the butterflies fly from your belly to your chest.
”The fact that I jumped in head first and offered to do that for you? I didn’t think I had to tell you at this point…”He breathes out a chuckle through the line this time. “And for the record, I couldn’t get enough of it. I was just trying to like– I don’t know.”
You listen to him breathe deeply, again.
“I didn’t want you to think I was in it just for the sex, I guess.”
There. There it is. You’re nearly kicking your feet, feeling him confirm feelings and erase any hint of doubt within you. Despite never truly noticing that he treats you differently compared to his other friends, despite never thinking too hard about the way he looks at you.
“You acted like it wasn’t a big deal, Jake. I’m not joking. If that’s how you act when you like someone, you shouldn’t blame me for not noticing.”
“I literally tongue fucked you.” He dead-pans. “Friends don’t just do that.”
“I thought we were friends who could do that.” You argue. “But I guess you’re not quite looking to just remain friends, are you?”
“No,” Jake sighs. “Mom told me I needed to take you out on some extravagant date and express my undying love for you with a handful of red roses, but I guess this is just how it’s gonna be. After all, this is you.”
“And this is you.” You confirm.
“I was going to come home tomorrow and try to lie our way to the restaurant, which I still can, if you want. You kind of fucked up my plan though.”
You pause at his words, suddenly feeling like shit for not realizing sooner. In your defense though, if he really did like you from day one, you didn’t exactly have a chance to see how he would have acted without feelings. The Jake you know is your best friend, and someone you trusted with everything, you thought he treated everyone as well as he treated you. That’s why, when he didn’t change, you couldn’t read him anymore.
Then again, all of this could have been fucking avoided if he had just voiced it to you.
“Romance is dead and it’s your fault.” Jake tries to joke, his soft tone somehow coming out even softer as he waits for some type of response from you.
“So, are we done fighting?” You ask meekly, tapping your finger against your phone and looking up at the ceiling with a smile that by now, you can’t escape. “Since you’ve just expressed your undying love for me and I very much wouldn’t mind going on a date with you so we can work this out face to face?”
“Are you still going to fuck Sunghoon?”
You laugh.
“Oh yeah, for sure–” To his silence, you immediately take it back. “Oh my god, relax. It’s a joke.”
“Get better jokes, asshole.”
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
“What the fuck?” Jake deadpans into the phone, his heart beating far too fast for his health, but vibing with it anyway because by tomorrow night, he’ll be next to you again. “You seriously had sex with her?!”
“Hey, she’s the one who called me.” Sunghoon shrugs as he listens. “To be fair, Jake, I did tell her that someone else had dibs on her.”
Jake slaps his forehead and rolls his eyes.
“You’re such a dick– I told you at least three hundred times that I like her! I don’t have dibs.” He gripes, trying to pretend that he’s not imagining Sunghoon with you, the person he wants the most.
“Damn right you don’t, because she seemed to have a great t–”
“Sunghoon, stop. I don’t want to know what happened, but like, stop texting her.”
Sunghoon’s brow raises in curiosity.
“Ah, did you finally make a move?”
If there’s anything Jake knows Sunghoon won’t do, it’s go for a woman that is actually unavailable. He has his fun, and he’s not one to turn anyone down if he has an interest in them, bro code be damned. And yeah, he’s still a little pissed at him for hooking up with you…but, it is true, Jake made you feel like he wasn’t even an option in his attempts to be a gentleman.
Still, boundaries need to be set now. Real boundaries.
“I did, and I would really appreciate it if you back off. I’m trying to make something out of this, you know?”
Sunghoon lightens up, sighing at his loss of a would be fuck-buddy that seemed more promising than some he’s had in the past.
“Jesus, you’re serious about her aren’t you?” He smirks as he speaks, feeling proud of Jake for finally stepping up for himself. “I mean, I can totally see why. Please excuse me as I mourn that sweet, sweet, pu-”
“Sunghoon.” Jake warns. “Shut the fuck up.”
“Relax, jesus.” Sunghoon plays it cool, though he actually is mourning it a little bit. “Good on you though. I’ll back off, don’t worry.”
Jake rolls his eyes yet again, his love-hate relationship with Sunghoon becoming more fond than ever by this point. Only because the confidence he had in himself before all of this wasn’t entirely where it needed to be. It’s true that he wasn’t exactly a pussy eating god before, nor could he even say he’s amazing at sex but, when it comes to you, he can’t help but be excited. He wants to do it all, be it all for you.
Never in his life has he eaten pussy like that, and never in your life have you felt a mouth so eager to please between your legs.
Sunghoon could have been something, but he couldn’t have been Jake, ever.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
The day couldn’t go by any slower than it already has.
Jake comes home tonight, and by home, you mean to your apartment where he doesn’t live.
Your mind goes in loops on what could possibly happen. Scenarios of him getting cold feet and ignoring that any of this happened at all again. Scenes of him unlocking your door, closing in on you, and kissing you before you can even say “hello”. Images of his hands on you, his mouth on you, what it would feel like if he were to…well, oh.
You snap yourself out of it, every bad scenario in your head gets replaced with one where you’ve got Jake working himself on and inside of you. It’s making you feel hot, insane, and entirely too horny for the proposed date night full of talking that needs to be had first.
Then you freeze, your hand on the handle of your mug as you wonder a bit too hard.
What if he doesn’t show up at all?
You did run off the second he left the city and fuck one of your mutual friends. Arguably, you were equally as bad at communicating with him as he was to you during the past few weeks. Sure, you flirted, but was that even enough when he literally put his tongue inside of you “as a friend”?
God, he’d have every right to not show up. To move on, to never speak to you again.
You’ve been so stupid. Both of you have, stumbling together but apart into something neither of you could even begin to navigate. For you? Sex is easy. Feelings though? That’s where it gets complicated. Yet, still, you find yourself more willing than ever to let these feelings roam free if he accepts them at face value.
Solely because of how shitty it felt when you were trying to pretend that Jake was nothing but a one time thing for his sake.
And when the time comes, after hours of brooding, getting worked up, and feeling insane, you’re looking like a mess when he knocks on your door. So much for looking good for him. You’re an absolute fucking wreck when you open that door and dead-pan stare at him and his bags.
“Hi,” He smiles, not quite making eye contact because he really is kind of embarrassed by all of this. “I’m here.”
You step back from the door, eyes remaining on him.
“You’re here.” You say quietly, watching him step into your apartment and drop his bags.
You feel his breath before you hear his voice. So much closer than just moments before, right up against your ear, and his arms wrapping tightly around you.
“Felt like I was gone for too long–” He whines slightly against you, breathing in a breath and taking in your scent. “Didn’t know I could miss you like that.”
You fucking melt. Out of all of those scenarios and fantasies in your head, this wasn’t one of them. Which goes to show that Jake is the one person in this world who can surprise you time and time again. You’ve hugged him like this hundreds of times, but this one, oh this one. He feels so close after feeling so fucking far away.
“You were gone for two days,” You smile, nuzzling against him and gripping his waist in your own hug.
“Two days too long, though.” You feel him smile, that little upturn of his lips pushing his cheek up and against you as he chuckles and pulls back. “We don’t have a lot of time, but we can still make it to the restaurant if you still want to go? I can shower when we get back.”
You pull back, offering him a small nod and feeling a bit let down. You wanted more, especially after that hug. The fact that he can contain himself right now feels isolating. Are you the only one who has a vibrating brain right now? He really wants to have the conversation at the restaurant?
He really wants to do this the right way?
You look like shit, but arguably he might think he looks worse considering the long trip back to you. Still, the restaurant is the chosen option to have this conversation, and you’re ready to get it over with so that finally the two of you can take a step forward.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
The restaurant is nice. There’s a buzz of conversations surrounding the two of you but most of it feels muffled because the only sound you can truly hear is Jake’s hushed and awkward attempts to get the ball rolling.
“So, I guess that’s why I went to my parent’s house. It’s embarrassing, I know–” He says before you cut him off.
“Tell me how you felt the past few weeks when we were together.” You say boldly, wanting so badly to have the confirmation that he really does want this, and that he suffered much like you did.
You watch a fan of rosy tint cross his cheeks as he breaks eye contact with you, looking to the table and then back up at you.
“Okay, um–” He stiffens a bit, glancing around to make sure no one is looking or listening in. “When we weren’t together, it was a lot easier for me to think, but when we were together, I could only really think about one thing.” He admits, nodding to himself.
You look at him curiously before you see his eyes light up in panic.
“No! No, no. Not like, sex…” He looks down. “I mean, yeah maybe sex too but mostly I just couldn’t stop thinking about ways to make you want me more than anyone else.”
Your heart swells at his panicked save, and then the words that follow.
“I think I already did want you more than anyone else.” You admit back to him. “Even if I didn’t know I had feelings until you did that to me– I’m sorry it took me so long to realize.”
He smiles, reaching over the table as if to ask for your hand.
“What about you? What did you think about when we were together after that night?” He asks for his own confirmation now.
“Sex. Mostly, I guess. I felt like no one else would ever be able to make me feel that good again.” You look away, feeling ashamed and seen. “Goddamn, I sound so dramatic.”
Jake snorts, laughing at how he should have expected this but the confidence boost is a happy surprise to him.
“To be fair though, Jake, I think I had my feelings and my lust for you mixed up.” You continue. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I still feel both of those things every time I see you, or even think of you.”
“Feelings and lust?” He nods with a smile and wiggling his eyebrows, his eyes glistening in the warm lighting of the restaurant.
You nod in confirmation, side eyeing the waitress who walks over to take down your order.
Both of you are somehow dissociated outside of each other, there’s no way you’re not because you don’t recall what you ordered, nor what he ordered, and he appears to be feeling much the same. The moment she walks away, he’s continuing.
“I was really that good, huh?” A smirk from him, and a nod from you.
“What about right now then? How do you feel when you look at me?” He follows up, looking down at the table.
“Both of those things.” You dead-pan, squeezing your legs together as you look at him and feel the warmth radiating from even this far away. The confirmation of feelings is enough by itself to have your thoughts in the gutter about him, especially after weeks of wanting him.
Especially after having to be in this stupid fucking restaurant in the first place.
He quirks a brow before lowering his voice, his eyes drooping a bit.
“Do you have any fucking idea how badly I’ve wanted to get my mouth on you?”
God, there he is. That same bold best friend who originally suggested eating you out in the first place. Not entirely unfounded that he said it, but fuck, your cheeks are searing.
“Jake, we’re in public.” You warn, knowing damn well that you’ve not been able to think of anything else either, but for the sake of the foundation of this relationship, you want to tame yourself a little bit.
“Since we started hanging out, every fucking time.” He continues, ignoring your warning. “I would get so mad when you’d go to your little hook-ups. Sometimes I even wondered if you did it intentionally to piss me off.”
Your cheeks are still hot, but now there’s a bit of guilt filling you.
“You really had no idea how badly I wanted that to be me?” He continues with his streak of confidence, unintentionally dirty talking to you solely because he, genuinely, cannot deny his attraction or his feelings for you by this point. “Even right now, I want nothing more than to have you to myself.”
You pause, the guilt leaving you in an instant as it’s fully replaced with Jake’s eagerness to have you in full, finally.
“Why–” You sigh, dropping your head into your hands to hide your face from him. “Why are we at this restaurant again?”
You feel his hand reach back over to you, removing your hands from your face and dipping down to look at you.
“It’s so fucking hard to contain myself right now. I can admit that.” He whispers, blinking at you. “If you feel satisfied with where we stand, I’d be more than happy to leave this table now and prove everything to you.”
An instant nod from you, and an instant confirmation from Jake.
You’re both out of the restaurant before a single sip of water, before a single visual inspection of the forgotten food the two of you ordered, and before any doubt could creep in to ruin the electrifying atmosphere you were indulging in with him.
For Jake, his self control wavers with each passing moment as you sit next to him in the car. You look so calm as he drives as quickly and safely as possible back to your apartment, shaming himself for ever considering the two of you go in the first place. Still, the outcome is somehow more satisfying. Both of you wanting to leave just so you can truly be alone together? He couldn’t ask for a better night.
Still, your calmness contrasts the way his insides vibrate the closer he gets to your place, and he wonders how the fuck you manage to do it. If you were to simply glance at him at the right moment, you’d see his entire body melt in the fantasies of what the two of you may be willing to do tonight.
Years worth of pining in his head and heart are bubbling up now. You’re inviting him in, you’re accepting him, you’re wanting him back.
What he doesn’t know though, is that you are quite literally imagining yourself wrapped in chains to this seat. Why? Because if it weren’t for those astral chains, you’d be on top of him in an instant, reassuring him that if there’s anything in the world you’ve wanted within the past few weeks, it’s him. You’d be apologizing for never taking note of his feelings before, and kissing away all of the moments he wished he could have had with you before, replacing them with very real, firm, hot kisses.
Thankfully though, you manage to tame the beast from within and somehow, so does he. Up until you get through your apartment door and the electrifying atmosphere sizzles away in an instant.
You expected to have the confidence to, quite literally, jump on him as soon as your door closed. Instead, you find yourself standing in awe at the entryway.
Jake, on the other hand, would love nothing more than to have you right this moment, speeding and parking crooked be damned, he will not allow it just yet.
“Listen,” He reaches out to you, pulling you up and against his chest. “I need to shower before I let myself do anything.”
You breathe a sigh of relief, noting that the awkwardness came from the fact that Jake’s energy is seeping out of him, lust and worry for possibly not being as clean as he’d like to be for this.
It feels strange, actually. You can imagine you’ve had many hook-ups with men who wouldn’t even consider a shower before inviting you over.
“Hurry up then, before I decide to call Sungh-”
“Don’t you fucking dare make that joke right now,” Jake squeezes you tighter against you, hating himself for constantly bringing up reasons to wait.
“If we are going to like,” He pauses, struggling to say it out of pure nervousness that you might change your mind. “You know, be exclusive, Sunghoon’s name is forbidden.”
You chuckle against him before shoving him back in a playful way.
“Deal. Now, can you fucking hurry?” You roll your eyes playfully, internally a little thankful for the short moments you will have to prepare yourself for this.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Damn this shower for feeling so good. Jake could fall asleep under the warmth if it weren’t for the fact that he’s been half-hard this entire time and truly fighting with himself on how to approach this situation.
It’s kind of awkward, actually. Knowing exactly what the two of you are about to do but having to wait even for fifteen minutes makes it seem like you both have a scheduled hook up and nothing more.
It’s not a hook up though. Jake is finally where he’s always wanted to be with you, in your shower priming his body to go absolutely fucking insane on you. Before, when he ate you out, he really was controlling himself. He wanted to do more with you so bad, and now? God…
He’s flushed as he finally makes his way out of the shower, length still stiffening and softening with each thought that passes. He can barely look at himself in the mirror without wanting to laugh at how embarrassing he truly is.
You’d probably laugh too, and he’d love the sound of it.
Then, he’s faced with a dilemma.
You, on the other hand, find yourself lying quietly in your bedroom after doing your best to fix the mess of yourself for whatever Jake may offer. Waiting for him, and ultimately wondering what the fuck is taking him so long when you finally hear the bathroom door open.
Faintly, you can smell your shampoo and body wash that he used as you hear him make his way to the living room and not find you.
Then, you hear him making his way to your room. He doesn’t open the door any further than it already was and instead, stands behind it quietly before muttering out.
“Um,” He starts, putting his hand on your door and only peeking his head in. “I wasn’t sure if there was a point to putting my clothes on–”
Fucking pause.
God, he must sound so stupid saying that, especially after looking into your room and seeing you lying against your bed changed into the exact same pajamas you put on the night he initially made a move on you through the guise of friendship.
Well, now it’s not even a question and he was right to assume that all he needed to do was wrap a towel around his waist and come to you.
You watch his eyes travel your body curiously, a smile forming on his face.
“If you’re wondering if I put panties on this time too,” You smile, reaching a hand out as if to invite him to open that door and come have at it. “I didn’t.”
That’s all it takes, really, to have him pushing the door open and not-so-calmly making his way to your bed.
Seeing his naked and damp chest is one thing, but smelling your scent all over him is another, especially when the first thing he does is practically envelop you with his body and plant his lips straight on your own.
The first real kiss. Despite his lips having been on you before, you melt into it and find yourself forgetting how differently he’s acting now compared to before. He was so confident, so cocky, and now he’s almost docile. Meek.
“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” He leans back to whisper, adjusting his body so that he’s more comfortable and leaning down on one arm while the other holds your cheek. “Can’t believe you let me eat you out before ever letting me actually kiss you.”
Your face heats up at the comment, making you feel more scandalous than you ever truly tried to be. But he’s not wrong, and you regret making him feel like eating you out was the only way to get to your heart.
Strangely though, it was the way to your heart. Him doing that for you practically threw you into the deep end in search for more, from him, specifically.
“Can’t believe you decided that you should just eat me out rather than admit your feelings for me.” You counter with a smile, lifting your head to kiss against him again and pretending you can’t feel the weight of his length under the loosely knotted towel on his waist.
“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” He says through the kisses, quickly losing the ability to speak when you lick against his bottom lip and, ultimately, take control of the act.
He wonders what your mouth could do to him. His entire body reacts to the way your tongue flicks and licks against his own, it takes everything in him to try and control himself from pushing too far too soon– until he realizes that there is no reason to control himself now.
Never has making out gotten him this turned on, and it’s not a surprise because it’s you.
He half moans, half chuckles into your kiss when he does it, pressing his hips down and against your thigh much like he did previously to the very mattress he’s got you lying against.
“There’s so much I want to do,” He finally admits, pulling back from the kiss and hanging his head to feel how his cock reacts to the flesh of your thigh. “Please, let me do all of it.”
You sigh, somehow feeling a pang of arousal radiate between your legs despite not yet being touched there. The weight of him on you is enough, and all you can do is nod and await the ways he intends to relieve himself with you.
Hours of head, he could give. Even more hours of burying his cock between those pretty lips and watching you return the favor for him. His confidence grows as your body moves under him, waiting, waiting, waiting for what he will do next.
First, he plants another kiss to you, pressing his hips hard against your thigh with a breathy sigh before moving his lips down, against your neck.
At the same time, his hands work their way up your loose shirt, cupping one breast in his palm and easily teasing your nipple with his fingers. He works his lips down the center of your clothed chest, down to your stomach, and then up again. His nose nudges your shirt up with each kiss, until his lips replace his fingers and he’s sucking your nipple into his mouth.
You’ve never felt so wanted in your life with the way he appears to be savoring you. Leaving his own pleasure neglected once again, his entire focus is on you. You arch your back up a bit, hands shooting to his head and cradling it there against your breast.
He groans when you scratch against the nape of his neck, wiggling your hips under him and chasing the sensation that his mouth manages to send to your clit. He groans again when your nipple remains firm between his lips, and he begins to nibble.
And this time, he moans when he manages to trail one of his hands down just to see how much it will take of this to get you wet. He tucks one hand under your shorts, only to find that you’re already dripping, soaking his fingers with a mere single slide up your folds.
“Fuck,” He sighs as if it’s a compliment when he pops his mouth off of you, flicking his head up to look at your already dazed eyes. “Already?”
You glance away, embarrassed by how badly you want the man who was once your best friend, and is now….more than that. You can feel his fingers graze and gently play around with the heat your body has already released for him, rolling your eyes back each time he pretends he’s going to offer pressure to your clit.
He’s fucking teasing you, and you know it.
He knows it too, because of fucking course he is. After years of torture, wondering if you’d ever manage to get wet at all with the thought of him, here you are, dripping under him when all he’s done is kiss you and fondle your nipples.
Briefly, he remembers how needy your hips were when his tongue was seeping into you. He remembers the taste of each thrust you pressed against his face, and the smell of how badly you needed him at the time.
As used as he was by you that night, he wants nothing more now than to pull those same desperate moans from you, to taste the wet inside of you that no man ever managed to release for you.
“I feel like I’m going insane,” He finally breathes out, still toying with your folds and keeping an eye on the way your eyes glare back at him. “I want you so fucking bad–” He stutters now, instantly sliding his fingers into you and scooting down on the bed at lightening speed, pressing your loose shorts to the side just to get the taste of you against his lips again.
Your legs instantly shoot over his shoulders, and one of his hands reaches up to hug your thigh against him as his tongue immediately laps at every dip and crease of your cunt. His eyes nearly roll back at being able to experience this again, his fingers holding firm without a single movement just so he can feel your body confirm that you want him just as much.
The clench around his fingers are enough, and he licks around them only for a moment before returning his lips to your clit and giving you all he’s got.
All he can feel is your legs tightening around his head, nearly lifting your ass up and off of the bed, all he can hear is his own moans vibrating through him each time he hears you react.
Arguably, even after that brief moment of teasing from him, feeling his mouth so eager, much like before, sent you straight into a blissed state and made you forget about the restaurant, the shower, the weeks of pining before this. His mouth is so warm, and his vibrating moans sooth your clit through its desperate attempts to beg for more.
You can’t help the fact that your legs hug his head, or the way your hands shoot down much like before, scratching through his hair before dropping down and spreading yourself open with two fingers solely to expose your clit in full to the assault of his tongue he’s giving you.
He missed you so much, he missed this so much. Never again will he leave you wondering, from this point forward, you should be well aware that if you so much as pushed him to his knees and lifted a leg over his shoulder, he’d be eating like a fucking king.
Still, even with his immense love for kissing your pussy until your legs shake, there’s more to be experienced here than just this. His pace slows with the reality of that, and only now does he move his fingers with intent, and he pulls back to see how you’re spreading yourself for him, even as your legs fall from his shoulders.
“Fuck.” He rasps, lips glistening with a mixture of his own saliva and your slick.
You lend him a drunken smile, nodding slowly as you focus in on the way his fingers scissor you open. Within a blink though, his face is right there hovering above you, staring intently at the way you react to his fingers.
“You look so good right now, you know that?” He compliments, leaning down again to plant a kiss against you, only pumping his fingers in faster when your kiss appears to be more hungry than his own. “God, I can feel you squeeze my fingers–”
And it’s true, he’s seeing stars solely because he can feel the clench of your pussy walls pushing his two fingers together, almost pushing against his attempts to scissor you open and curl them into the spot inside he knows you have. He can only imagine how good that would feel if he were to…
His eyes squeeze shut in a drawn out moan at the thought, his own kiss growing more hungry as he releases the towel from his waist and quickens the pace of his fingers inside of you.
You can feel him press his cock against you, and the weight of it only becomes heavier when his fingers pause inside of you just so he can slip them out and use those same slick-coated digits to hold his length down and against you before he slides it between your lips. Now coating himself in the same wet sensation.
You listen closely to his moan, knowing that he seems fond of neglecting his own pleasure to the point of doing near-embarrassing things to get it back when he needs it the most. It’s strangled, almost. You can hear him swallow around it when he slides up harshly, bumping your clit and causing your shorts to stretch against the crease of your thigh.
He seems so…desperate. Yet, he can have anything he wants.
“Keep it spread open–” He mutters when he feels you try to remove the hand that had been holding your pussy out on display for him. “I want to feel all of it.”
God, you’ve never heard him say something so sexy. Easily you do as he says, now using both hands to hold either side of your pussy open for him, and feeling the underside of his length slide against your hole.
You let out a pleased sigh, despite your shorts becoming a nuisance at this point. It’s easy to forget you’re still wearing them though, because they only become drenched more and more as the moments pass with Jake.
You can genuinely just assume that his cock must be aching as he does this, leaking all over you. That’s something you don’t mind at all, because the stimulation is far beyond what you could ever ask for.
“Jake–” You try to speak, only to be cut off by his hand sliding under your head and his lips attaching yet again to you.
There, you can’t help it when you remove your hands and shoot them up to his face. Holding him there, feeling the way his jaw moves when he licks into your mouth in a desperate attempt to get as much of you as he can in this moment.
His hips fuck forward much like they did into his palm all those weeks ago, and the anticipation of if or when he finally plunges it into you drives you to kiss him just as hard as he does you.
There is nothing but the sound of kissing in the room save for muffled moans from both of you, entirely tangled up together as he does nothing more than grind himself against you. His hand cradling your head and the other still pressing his length down and against you as close as he can manage. Yours, cupping his cheeks as he kisses you, up until you run one hand down to take over for him.
In that moment, with his free and now shaking hand, he pulls back entirely and just looks at you.
He’s out of it, entirely gone from this world as he stares down with his hair drying by the minute from that shower, messy as all hell with darkened hooded eyes. He continues to stare, each thrust against you becoming pointed to the extent that it almost feels like he’s already fucked you for hours.
And then, you feel it. The weight lifting, your shorts being stretched until they’re sliding down your thighs and off of you, and then the warmth as he adjusts his hips just barely enough to line up with your quivering hole, practically begging for him to stretch you out for the first time.
His eyes falter only for a moment when he realizes that this is a moment he will never forget. The way you look up at him with glassy and needy eyes, out of breath, seemingly loving him as much as he’s always loved you.
“Yeah?” He whispers, not breaking eye contact even for a moment.
“Please.” You mutter out, not fully intending for it to sound so broken.
And as broken as your voice was in that instance, he grows much weaker by it. Dropping his head with a deep sigh, a smile, and then a chuckle.
“You really, really, can’t look at me like that and expect me to be gentle…” He pauses to look at you again. “For your sake, please tell me to slow down.”
You can barely comprehend a word he’s saying when you can feel the head of his cock teasing where you need it the most.
“Please.” You rasp out again, wrapping your legs around his waist and forcing his body forward, ultimately sliding the tip of his length into you yourself.
“Oh, fuck–” He chokes out before sucking in a breath and letting out a moan at the feeling. His body jerks at the sensation, the sound of your voice, the way you pulse around him. “Fuck, so good.” He continues to mutter, controlling himself for only a few seconds longer just to see if you have the ability to understand that he truly and honestly will not have the ability to go easy on you at this point.
“Deeper.” You plead, squeezing your legs tighter around him, uncaring of his attempt to control the situation.
That’s all it takes. Your broken voice already had him shaking, and now he’s giving up any and all control that he could have possibly hoped to have.
Right there, with your legs hugging his waist, your hands gripping the pillow behind your head, and his hands finding purchase on either side of your shoulders, he sinks himself into you as deep as he can go and feels as if the life is being choked out of him over how fucking good it feels.
He throws his head back in an erotic and attractive moan of relief, allowing you a glimpse at the expanse of his stretched neck, naked of any marked territory. Still, your vision goes white when the stretch hits you.
So big, so strong on top of you. You can imagine he really could fuck you hard, you hope he doesn’t go gentle on you at all, actually
“Shit, please,” You moan brokenly again, releasing your pillow and gripping his forearms. “Jake, god–” You have no words to describe how good he feels inside of you, you couldn’t begin to fathom trying to explain to him how perfect he is.
It feels deep, deeper than you ever could have imagined. His length alone should have been enough to tell you that, but you hadn’t yet factored in the girth of it. So heavy inside of you, touching each soft and sensitive surface your pussy has to offer.
Your body jolts in adjustment, knocking the breath out of you despite him not moving just yet.
“Shh–” He soothes, not at all actually wanting to hush your cries for him. In fact, he’s simply saying it because he could quite literally release at any moment if you continue to speak and clench him like this. And when he finally looks down at you, he can’t fucking help it.
His hips move at their own volition, and he was right in believing there is no gentle fuck to be had here. He slides out only slightly, with the intent to fuck you as full of him as he can. He wants to stay deep, because you asked, and he wants to keep you feeling stretched around him because he can truly never get over the way you look and sound right now.
You shake at the feeling of him pressing impossibly deeper into you, keeping his hips flush against you before snapping his hips back more now. A slightly empty feeling inside of you being filled once again within a second.
His moans sound beautiful, he feels beautiful, and all you can do is stare up at him with watery eyes and a slack jaw, wondering why it took him so long to do this with you.
Wondering why it took you so long to want it at all, when now, you think you could never feel this good with another person again.
His arms flex in your grasp with each thrust, and his eyes land on each visible part of your body before he weakens his stance and lowers himself to you, hips still fucking you open at a pace that’s only becoming more and more rapid, more and more fucking blinding.
“Yeah, yeah–” Jake suddenly chimes with out of breath words, kissing you before you can comprehend or respond to those words. “No one has ever reacted like this for me–” He continues, pointing his thrusts harder into you. “Feels so good, so tight around me.” He chokes up at the last few words, stuttering his and picking up a different pace.
This time, those harsh thrusts pull back further, emptying you before slowly pressing into you again.
“I want you to remember how this feels,” He continues, seemingly rambling against your lips with each slow thrust. “No one will ever fuck you like I will.”
Your hooded eyes shoot open with arousal at his confident boasting. Those words feel so final, as if it isn’t even a rule, but a logical fact that only the two of you could ever find to be true.
You can’t even manage a response, and instead moan before tucking your lips up and against his neck, using one hand to grip his hair and skew his head.
That once naked and markless neck is no more. He is yours, and you’re lucky enough now to know that this is exactly how he wants you to feel.
“Ahh, you like that?” He questions your reaction to his words, feeling your hips make attempts to meet him halfway with each thrust. “You like when I talk?” He continues to urge your sucking lips to speak out to him, to answer him, to boost his ego just a bit more.
“So much,” You nearly whimper against his neck, moving your lips to another spot. “Love when you’re confident like this–”
He’s in heaven hearing those words. As if it’s a confirmation that he wasn’t just talking dirty. You both truly take those words and will fuck by them from this point forward. He truly doesn’t want anyone else, and hopefully, you’d never give another person the chance to make an attempt to fuck you the way he does.
And then the room falls silent again, as if Jake is focused on reminding you with each passing second that he’s never been more sure or right of something in his life. Despite you already believing him, the way his cock pulses inside of you is enough of a reminder even if he had never said it in the first place.
His pace quickens again, and then slows, and then stutters. Only to fall back into a good rhythm before his entire body starts to shake through the act.
You wonder if this is it. Is this how his body reacts when he’s about to cum? Is this what his face looks like? Is this what his eyes do? Did his arms strain like this the first time? Did his moans come out as choked and desperate?
None of that matters, because as quickly as it started, he buries himself into you again and stays in that one spot, shaking and timidly looking down at you.
“Don’t move, please, don’t move.” He practically begs, losing himself to the way your hips chase the feeling of constant stimulation. “Stop moving.” He pleads again, pulling his chest from you and sitting up on his knees, keeping his cock in place deep within you.
You watch him, unable to keep your hips still, and he watches you– trying to keep his orgasm under control before seeing your fingers trail down your stomach and to your clit.
There, he loses himself, watching you rub the soft spot just above where his cock stuffs you full.
“I can’t,” He chokes out, snapping his hips back and allowing himself to get lost in the feeling. “Fuck, I really can’t.” He continues to mutter out, pressing his strings of cum ever deeper inside of you as he feels every muscle in his body tense.
It feels so sensitive, but he can’t stop moving, feeling his cum fill you up to the point it’s surely being pressed out of you by his desperate length wanting nothing more than to stay inside of you.
You moan through it with him, encouraging him to lose himself inside of you, and he’s so beautiful when he does it. The fact that he does it at all has your body tensing on its own. Teetering on the edge of your own orgasm with the way your fingers almost aggressively chase after the feeling he appears to still be releasing inside of you.
And then, emptiness. You are left empty and dripping, fingers still chasing your release before–
“What the fu–” You moan, squeezing your eyes shut at the feeling of his tongue instantly back on you. As if he’s looping back to the beginning of it all, uncaring of tasting himself solely because through it all, he can still taste you. “Jake, Fuck–yes, right there.” You continue to groan when he replaces his tongue against your hole with his fingers, fucking into you as quickly as he can before nudging your fingers away and taking over the chase of your orgasm.
You’re entirely amazed by how eager he is to pull it from you, and that alone is enough. The desperate ways in which he decided to pleasure you right in this moment, it’s enough.
Your hands instantly reach for his hair, gripping so tightly that you can hear the pained sound he lets out at the sheer force behind it. You very nearly rub his nose in the mess he’s made of you out of the sheer arousal you feel through your orgasm.
You’re seeing white, feeling his fingers expertly work you open and somehow don’t feel disappointed at all that you didn’t get there before he pulled out of you. You can still feel him dripping out, fingers squelching and sliding through the mixture of both orgasms inside of you. And his tongue, good lord his fucking tongue, licking up every bit and eagerly flicking your clit at a pace much faster than he offered before.
And now, you find your legs nearly kicking him across the room. As soon as the orgasm subsides, your body goes into overdrive with the overwhelming sensitivity between your legs and all he can do is laugh at the way you practically do kick him.
Right off the bed, actually, he tumbles.
You lay there, staring into space as you attempt to bring yourself back to reality when you see his messy hair and glistening eyes peek from the edge of your bed at you. His shoulders huffing with each deep breath he takes.
“Jesus fucking christ.” You manage to gasp out, spread eagle and almost completely naked on your bed save for the forgotten shirt that’s still pushed up to your collarbone.
He makes his way back up to you, pressing your legs together, lowering your shirt, and planting his heavy dead-weight right on top of you.
A solid ten minutes pass as the two of you lay there in the mess you’ve both created. Heavy breaths turn to easy, balanced breaths together. You can barely hold your eyes open when he finally rolls off of you and right up against your side.
“Can I ask you something?” He mutters, throat dry and stomach growling embarrassingly loud.
“Hm?” You hum out, entirely ready to just sleep in the mess.
“Are you always like that?” He questions, a little hint of doubt breaking his confidence. “Like, did Sunghoon see you act like that too?”
You crack your eyes open and instantly turn to face him.
“You’re insane if you think Sunghoon is that good. I’ve never used the word ‘please’ in my life.”
Jake glances away, thinking to himself and letting those words sink in.
“Well,” He starts, pausing and feeling that little pit in his stomach return. “That’s a lie because I’ve heard you use your manners at least twice in the years I’ve known you.”
You smile, loving that the two of you can still be somewhat catty and playful even after the fact that you just realized how insanely in love with him you are.
“Jake, no one has ever made me act like this in bed.” You try to reassure him. “I don’t think anyone else could, besides you.”
He smiles with a nod, running his hands down your body before pausing at the half dried cum that managed to make its way up to your stomach. And then? He groans.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
It’s insane really, that all it took for you to fall in love with the person you think you were always meant to love was him admitting it. Even more insane that he decided to take the route that involved faux playful head, with no feelings attached despite his feelings being deeply fucking attached.
Still, the route taken to get to this point, he thinks, is fitting for the two of you. Especially now that he can look at Sunghoon without wanting to strangle him, and he can look at you knowing you’d very much invite him to strangle you, you know, considering the fact that you’re now trying to explore every sexual realm in the fucking universe with him.
Even with the desperate need to have you under him any chance he gets, and the fucking, and the arousal, none of it shines brighter than the small intimate moments he has with you that aren’t weighed down by pining or lust.
As playful as the two of you are together, there is so much love here. So much love to still be discovered too, and he can’t help but feel excited by it.
Romance isn’t dead, despite how the two of you tried to fucking butcher it.
OR WHERE，paying a wizard for an obsessed boyfriend actually works!
❪ MAGAZINE ❫ ｡ down bad!yjw 𝗑 f!r smau fluff ✿ language businessman jungwon loosely inspired by ‘crazy rich asians’
스루 ܃ atp im js posting my drafts fr TT but i really hope this was ok, not really fun now but more parts incoming!
ONE TWO (+tba)
join my perm taglist ! or join the ‘crazy rich match’ taglist only by commenting ! if you liked this, feedbacks and reblogs are very much appreciated :p
OR WHERE，paying a wizard for an obsessed boyfriend actually works!
❪ MAGAZINE ❫ ｡ down bad!yjw 𝗑 f!r smau fluff ✿ language businessman jungwon loosely inspired by ‘crazy rich asians’
스루 ܃ atp im js posting my drafts fr TT but i really hope this was ok, not really fun now but more parts incoming!
ONE TWO (+tba)
join my perm taglist ! or join the ‘crazy rich match’ taglist only by commenting ! if you liked this, feedbacks and reblogs are very much appreciated :p
𑣲⋆ ⌗ (🚬) You’re the kind of girl who gets peonies for breakfast, so Riki Nishimura would really like to know why you’re buying weed from him.
西村 力 riki nishimura x cheer captain! reader
˗ˏˋ riki as a plug, i promise its not as bad as it sounds, romcom, fluff, crack, profanity, homewrecking but not really, cheating (not really) but not on riki dw, explicit content, smut, oral sex, m receiving, porn with plot, unprotected sex, dom ni-ki, size kink lowk, weed, toxic, mdni !
wc: 20 766
p: d.a.m. - fetty wap ; homewrecker - sombr ; i get lonely - drake ; lowkey - niki (fcking hilarious)
Riki Nishimura was a conformist by all means possible, and even prides himself as a law-abiding citizen to the normalized standards.
He does think some fractions of the government system can totally be tweaked, but he isn’t some reformist that would go out of his way — he actually really likes the stability of society and how it’s structured. He’s comfortable with the status quo.
That includes knowing who to follow on Instagram, who not to approach in the hallway, who to invite in group projects, and who to sit with in lunch. He goes by what makes sense and knows who the hell doesn’t belong in his circle, who rightfully has his phone number, and who can comment on his Instagram posts.
Except when it comes to substances. He’s not a drug addict but he does enjoy good weed.
He did listen during chemistry lectures, which basically means he knows a thing or two about pharmaceutics — at least the important parts like which produce larger surges of dopamine and intense euphoria. So while they get drug orientations every start of the school year and the addition of the entrepreneurial mindset of a businessman his father has passed down to him; Riki’s a fucking a jackpot. He simply believed every structure had blind spots, and if someone was smart enough to notice them, then maybe they deserved to profit a little.
Maybe that made him a hypocrite. He knew that. Sometimes, in the middle of his own judgment, the thought would occur to him that he was not exactly living inside the moral boundaries he pretended to respect.
So with all of these in mind — weed-seller and social scale follower — imagine his surprise seeing a text from you.
You, an A-tier cheer captain with perfect grades and perfect friends and a perfect boyfriend and someone he doubts even has ever touched weed within a 10 feet radius because of how goody-two-shoes and slightly more socially-conformed you are, texted him:
you:
hi
you sell right
The kind of surprise a priest might feel if the Virgin Mary asked to borrow a dildo.
Riki stared at his phone for a full thirty seconds. Not because he was shocked by the question itself — he’d gotten worse, far more incriminating messages from people with nothing to lose – but because of who it was from. Your name sat there, attached to a profile picture he never thought would sit on his chat log. Someone who followed the rules so well she barely seemed to touch the ground and practically flew up the school field with the school banner.
This was not how the structure worked. Nope.
He knew you didn’t look at people like him unless it was to borrow a pen or unwillingly get assigned to a lab partner. You definitely weren’t supposed to be asking him this.
Riki leaned back in his chair and rethought the logistics. He wasn’t paranoid – paranoia implied irrationality. This was risk assessment, you’re high visibility, you’re a liability, you’re a cop in disguise, you’re a prig who’ll ruin his cloak and dagger, you’re holier-than-thou. You’re interesting.
riki:
????
is this a test loll
you:
?
its a question
riki:
u fr????
you:
js tell me if its a no
i have money
riki:
3pm behind the science building
you:
ok thanks
But more than whatever you are, he knows this was stupid. This was the kind of deviation that got people caught and into the most flouting position he’ll ever be, therefore ruining his very wish to stay within a lawful system. It was, unequivocally, a very bad idea.
And yet he finds himself at the back of the building while he reevaluates the measures of bad-ness in the idea. If math really has been on his side along with his really athletic stature, he can run when you pull out as witness to his little dissenter mood. It halts when he sees you rounding the corner in your cheer uniform — ponytail perfect, knee tape slightly crooked, eyes darting like you weren’t sure you belonged back here — he realizes something his knees will give out before he can even try to walk away.
You stop a few feet away from him, awkward, out of place, glowing like a wrong answer circled in red. You stare at him with your arms crossed, hyperaware when his eyes follow the silhouette of your frame like he’s finding a covert surveillance device underneath your pleated skirt.
Riki talks calmly, like this wasn’t insane at all, like he hasn’t been in his head for the past hours: “So,” he starts, hands slipping into the pockets of his hoodie. “What do you need?”
The question should’ve been easy. You’d rehearsed it in your head on the walk here, timed it with your steps, told yourself not to sound like an idiot. But standing this near — near enough to notice the faint, clean smell of cologne and something green and earthy — you blank.
You shift your weight, arms tightening across your chest. “Um. Weed.”
Riki blinks once, and immediately he knows what this is. He studies you the way he did with lab results that didn’t line up with the predictions — or maybe it did exactly, and he can’t believe it was that easy.
“…Okay,” he said. “What kind?”
Your mouth opens. Then closes.
“What kind.” he repeats.
You felt heat crawl up your neck. “Just… normal?” you say, immediately hating yourself. “Like. The kind people use?”
A corner of his mouth twitches before he can stop it. Then he licks the inside of his cheek, shaking his head when he realizes that yeah, his guess is right. “You don’t know what you’re doing.” he says.
You bristle. “So?”
“You don’t even know dosage. Or strain. Or why you want it.” His eyes flick up to yours. “Do you?”
Your confidence wobbles, the polished composure you wore so easily in hallways cracking just a little now. He pulls out a small, neatly labeled bag and holds it between his fingers instead of handing it to you. “This is low THC,” he explains. “Won’t make you freak out. But I need to know what you specifically need so you don’t… panic.”
This was supposed to be transactional, quick, something you could tuck away and forget about. Yet every risky glance you take, he doesn’t look like someone who’d hold anything against you.
Riki sighs, about to put the bag away. “Look, let’s just forget —“
“I just,” you start, then sigh because there’s no cool way to say it. “I don’t know. I had a bad week. I wanted to try something.”
When you finally look up, he’s watching you differently. Not like you’re stupid or embarrassing, though you feel plenty of that on your own. His brows have lifted slightly, the faint amusement in his mouth fading into something quieter as he takes you in properly: your tight grip on your own arms, the way your eyes keep darting away.
And it makes it worse.
You meet his eyes for half a second before looking away with a small huff, embarrassed by the sudden attention.
He puckers his lips slightly, staring at the thing in his hand like he’s thinking. At first, you think he might be deciding if you’re worth the trouble, but then he nods once. “Okay,” he says. “So you’re not becoming a stoner. You’re just trying a new cuisine.”
You blink at him, then laugh under your breath before you can stop yourself.
His mouth twitches, but hides it. He steps closer, just enough that you can see the smoothness of his skin, like he owns expensive skincare. He’s very tall, in a way that surprises you maybe because you’d just never stood this close before.
Really, you never spent time looking at Riki Nishimura. You’ve known the name, because who can ever look past the opulent sound of it, but to know the man behind it didn’t matter. After texting him, you don’t know what you expected either, maybe someone grubbier and smelled like smoke, someone with dry lips from all the ash. You thought he’d smell like one of those hippie guys who sold sketchy shit while wearing the same beanie for three years.
But no, he smells like a familiar perfume your father owns in his fragrance wardrobe.
And his clothes are annoyingly nice, like the hoodie is probably more expensive than it looks and the loose pants are intentional, not lazy.
Also, he’s 6’1.
“This,” he taps the bag lightly, “will help you relax. Body high, mostly. You’ll still be functional. But since it’s your first time, better not fuck around too much.”
He’s still standing in front of you, close enough for you to notice the way his lashes lower when he looks at the bag in his hand, and you feel deeply, horribly stupid for only realizing now that he looks like that.
Your gaze lingers, and he catches it. Riki clears his throat, spine straightening a little. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” you say too fast.
He only hums. You tighten your arms across your chest. “Just give me the thing.”
He finally hands you the bag, and you eye it once you feel its weight in your palm; leafy and green and brown and not you — but it doesn’t look so bad right now. It looks enticing, even, which you won’t try to admit out loud.
“Twenty,” he says, not planning to converse himself with the sudden discount.
You dig into your bag, finding for the vintage pink wallet that screams the contrast of cannabis in your palm right now. “You know,” you say, hesitant but honest, “I don’t know. It’s weird how we’ve never talked before.”
That gets him. He chuckles even if there’s nothing funny about what you said, but there is something humorous about the fact he remembers shit you obviously forgot. He’s quick to question the lack of indifference, because he remembers it well that this is definitely not the first time you two talked.
“We were partners in freshman year,” Riki says.
He watches your face blank in real time, and something about it makes his mouth lift again, but not kindly enough to be mean. More like he expected it and still finds it a little funny that you are proving him right.
“English lit,” he adds. “The mythology presentation.”
For a second, he looks at you like someone who’s always known you, and you look at him like you’re seeing him for the first time. He sees it flash in your eyes, that maybe you remember him more than just some guy who sells weed to irresponsible decision-makers.
“Oh,” you say.
Riki nods once, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Oh.”
Until your phone buzzes to drag you back from this little bubble you’re in – your boyfriend’s name lights up the screen and Riki notices it too.
“Oh,” you say again, clearly out of your own head. “I — sorry.”
Something shifts, like the structure rebuilds and reasserts itself back into proper footing. You pull the bills from your wallet and press them into his hand. “Thanks,” you say. “For, um. The stuff.”
He closes his fist around the money, nods once. “Yeah.”
You hesitate like you might say something else, so you just tuck the bag away and step back. “I’ll go,” you say.
You turn the corner first. Riki exhales only when you’re out of sight, and chews on his bottom lip before hitting the side of his fist against the wall without real effort. He turns the other corner, parting from the rendezvous kept between eng lit and discounts.
The thing is, Riki knows you before whatever you are now. Miss Perfect who buys weed from Mister Lowkey Weed Seller — it’s a whole tangle in his brain in which he can’t exactly comprehend, but while he smokes a joint and music blasts through the speakers from the house party he’s dragged into, your picture’s pinned with red strings.
He’s known you since third grade. You’ve been part of the cheer team before puberty, and since then you’ve accumulated likable girls your age into your circle, then the guys from the football team after. It becomes a whole coupling session when the age came right, which Riki is convinced is just some orgy labeled friendship goals in curated Instagram. He thought you were mean mostly because that’s what someone like you would be — but he does know a thing or two about you, other than the assumption of character. You’ve been in the same group projects against your will, sometimes you’d stand next to each other by the queue lines in the cafeteria, sometimes you’d bump against him in the hallway when you’re chasing time.
Is it weird he kept tabs? Maybe.
He always noticed, obviously, why wouldn’t he? You are not exactly unnoticeable. You’re nicer than your friends, you say sorry when you accidentally bump into someone, you say thanks to the staff, you say good morning to strangers, you’re pretty, you’re talented, you’re smart, you laugh at his jokes, you bought weed from him, you’re pretty, you’re perfect, you’re funny, you’re ridiculously pretty —
Riki takes another puff, too fast and too harsh, earning a rough cough from his throat. Heeseung chuckles, giving him an aggressive pat on the back when he leans his elbows against his knees. “Geez, first time?”
Riki shoves his arm away with a laugh, unsure where this is coming from. Because on top of every other noticeable trait you have, you have a boyfriend. So. Yeah. He knows better than to think about you.
He sinks deeper into someone else’s couch — leather, cracked at the seams — while the bass rattles the walls and bodies blur together in the dim lights. Smoke hangs thick in the air, clinging to his clothes, his hair, his thoughts. He takes another drag, slower this time, lets it sit in his lungs until the noise dulls around the edges.
Across from him, someone’s laughing too loud, then a couple is making out like it’s an Olympic sport. Heeseung steals the joint from his fingers and flicks the ash into an empty cup.
“You look fucked,” Heeseung says.
“I’m not,” Riki replies automatically.
“Mhm.”
Riki pushes himself up from the couch, suddenly restless. He just wants a drink — something cold, something that doesn’t make his head spiral because even the thought of weed pulls him back to this cheerleader. So he goes to the kitchen, instinctively saying half-assed sorry’s to strangers without meaning them.
Until he bumps into someone.
For half a second, he genuinely wonders if the side effects are finally catching up to him, because his head feels several feet away from his eyes and the kitchen lights look more hazy than they should.
But it’s you, he knows that because your kind voice apologizes; the way you always do, the way your friends don’t. Your shoulder knocks into his chest and you’re already stepping back, eyes wide a fraction of a second when you look up. Riki freezes too, unsure what to do with his hands or his feet or where to look without threading too close to the sternum your lowcut top exposes. Up close, under dim kitchen lights instead of school hallways, you look unreal — hair loose, lips parted like you’ve been laughing.
“Riki,” you say, breathless, like his name slipped out before your brain could catch it.
His name on your mouth does something stupid to him.
“Hey,” he says, too softly. He’s just thankful you don’t notice the slight roughness of it.
You smile, small and polite — but there’s something else underneath it now. Recognition that shouldn’t exist, not in the structure where you’re meant to forget that you know; one where he looks up at you from beneath your echelon, now he’s standing close enough that you have to tilt your chin to look up at him.
“I didn’t know you’d be here,” you say.
He huffs a quiet laugh. “I didn’t either.”
You glance past him, toward the other room, toward where your friends probably are — or your boyfriend. Then back at him, polite in a way he’s sure is because you’re you and not because he’s him.
“I don’t usually see you in… parties,” you say.
He puts both hands in his pant pockets, shoulders loose, eyes on yours like the noise around you doesn’t have enough authority to interrupt.
“You don’t usually look,” he says.
It’s not said rudely, just calm, like he’s stating something obvious enough that both of you should stop pretending around it.
Your fingers tighten around your cup. “That’s not true.”
Riki tilts his head, eyes moving over your face. “Yeah?”
You hate how it sounds coming from him, low and slow and almost amused, like he knows you’re lying before you do. You scoff a quiet laugh, eyes looking away because you can’t keep looking at him.
“I mean, I know you exist.” You look back up at him when you say it, bottom lip catching between your teeth before you can stop yourself.
His eyes drop for half a second, then he smirks and looks away, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek like he’s trying not to say something.
When he looks back, his face is calmer. “Where’s your boyfriend?”
The question is casual enough that it almost sounds harmless. You glance elsewhere instinctively, like you’re going to find him close. “Somewhere.”
“Specific.”
“He’s with his friends.”
Riki just nods, doesn’t wanna push, even though he’s pretty sure you don’t actually know where he is. Leaving is the smarter and normal thing to do. The thing a girl with a boyfriend and a reputation and a phone full of unread messages from her friends would do.
Instead, you stay there. And Riki’s got that tabbed already.
You hesitate, fingers worrying at the rim of your cup. “I, um. I haven’t — used it yet.”
Riki blinks. “The stuff?”
You nod, cheeks warming. “I just… don’t really know how.” It’s weird being this honest with someone you barely know, yet your bones don’t buzz with the prompt demand to pause. It must be the slight slosh, it’s the only real thing to excuse why you’re not pulling away.
For a second, he just looks at you. Then his mouth curves, slow and amused. “You bought weed without knowing how to use it?”
Your face warms, but you try not to look embarrassed. “Okay, well.” You lift your cup a little, like that somehow helps your argument. “You can teach me.”
Riki grimaces immediately, playful but clear. “Sounds like a bad idea.”
You blink. “Wow. Rude." You huff, looking away, but you’re smiling a little because he doesn’t sound scared of you. Or impressed by you. Or desperate to keep you there. He just sounds like he already knows better and hates that he has to be the one saying it.
He sighs, looking away for a second. “Fuck, fine.” his jaw clenches. “But not here.”
You try not to smile and fail almost immediately. You take one step back, still looking at him. “I’ll text you. Maybe later?”
Someone calls your name from the other room and you exhale, dragging back through the fracture. The music spikes and someone bumps into you again, closer this time, and Riki’s hand lifts instinctively, hovering over your waist without touching.
Your eyes flick down, then back up to his. “Nice seeing you,” you say finally, voice softer now.
“Yeah,” he says. “You too.”
You step around him, brushing past just close enough that he catches your scent — which is bad, because now he’ll have to remember that too. When you disappear back into the crowd, Riki stays rooted in place for a beat too long.
He exhales, rubs a hand over his face, and laughs quietly to himself.
He really, really knows better.
Which somehow makes it worse.
Riki glances back to see you’re sitting on the couch now, legs tucked in, your boyfriend’s arm slung easily around your shoulders. He leans in and presses a quick kiss to your cheek, which makes you smile and ease back into him. Riki turns away to open the fridge and grabs the coldest beer he can find. He lifts it and downs it in one go, throat burning at the coldness and bitter taste.
He shouldn’t do this.
He really shouldn’t.
Later, in that strange lull when the party has gotten worse and louder — you text him.
You:
bathroom upstairs
The bathroom is cramped and clean but gross in concept: flickering light, foggy mirror, the smell of cheap air freshener. You’re perched on the edge of the sink when he slips inside and locks the door behind him, eyes bright, a little nervous, because being in a bathroom with you feels worse than any sketchy deal he’s made.
“Okay,” you whisper, like you’re conspiring. “So. Teach me.”
He winces, glancing around. “This is… not ideal.”
You just grin. He laughs despite himself and sets the weed down on the closed toilet lid, grimacing when he starts rolling paper against it. Once he’s done, he holds the roll up to your mouth and he tells you to lick it. You follow through, leaning down and sticking your tongue out to lick the side. He clears his throat, trying not to think about the way you looked doing that, trying not to imagine anything else.
He’s careful, not clinical or a lecture when he instructs, just calm and reassuring like he’s trying to keep you comfortable more than correct. When he hands the final roll to you, your fingers shake a little as you take it.
“Like this?” you ask.
“Yeah,” he says softly. “Slow.”
You cough immediately after trying, sharp and sudden, bending forward with a surprised laugh. “Oh my god — why does it — ”
“Hey,” he says, too fast, stepping closer, hand hovering at your back. “You okay?”
You wave him off, still laughing, eyes watering. “I’m fine, I’m fine.”
He watches you like you might disappear if he looks away. You’re laughing, which isn’t comforting Riki even in the slightest because the last thing he needs is to not be a conformist and end up in jail for accidentally supporting your homicide.
You try again, better this time. You still cough, laugh, cough again, but way more manageable as time goes by.
“Sorry,” you say, breathless.
“Don’t apologize,” he says. “You’re doing fine.”
You keep at it, stubborn in that way of yours, until the coughing eases and something in your shoulders loosens. You lean back against the wall, head tipping gently, eyes half-lidded.
“Oh,” you murmur. “That’s… actually really nice.”
Riki lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, a nervous laugh slipping out. He leans back against the wall, hand through his bangs, exposing the skin of his forehead. “Jesus fucking Christ,”
You nod slowly, smiling to yourself. “My brain’s quiet.”
He watches you for a moment: relaxed, unguarded, glowing in this tiny bathroom because you don’t belong here at all, holding a joint Riki himself rolled for you. Really, you never belonged anywhere that tried to put you in a box, and he wasn’t going to make himself an exception to that opening.
He tries thinking about who you really are, beyond what most people would take you as. Though he knows not to fantasize a tale where he saves the damsel from her golden label. He takes you with memory and not assumption: cheer girl, disciplined afternoon drills, academically smart, socially competent, good. But tonight, while you lean against the cracked sink and stand diagonally across him, he sees a side he never thought he’d secretly behold.
Your eyes flick to him. “You’re a good teacher.”
He swallows. “You’re an easy student.”
Riki rolls another one for himself, hands steadier now that you’re settled, and lights it with a quiet flick. The bathroom fills with a softer haze this time, the kind that wraps instead of hits like a downer high school series. He takes a drag, exhales toward the ceiling, letting the room reek with shouldn’ts and endorphine boosters.
You smoke more confidently now, less harsh and rough when you let the smoke run down your throat. Your eyes are a little red, lashes heavier, the sharp edges of you blurred into something warmer and looser, less polished and picture perfect the way your boyfriend would like. Riki thinks — stupidly — that he’s never seen you look better.
You lean your head back against the wall again, staring at the ceiling like it’s just told you a secret. He doesn’t stare, actually. He keeps his eyes narrowed to the broken tile in front of him like he’ll discern the reason it’s cracked (maybe someone opened the door too hard, maybe someone once stood there trying to look normal while his heart acted stupid over a girl, which was especially humiliating when the whole point of being high was to feel less insane). Sometimes he’ll permit himself to glance, but even the very glimpse of your smudged lipstick makes him look away and inhale the fuck outta that weed.
Then, suddenly, with eyes still trained to the dim bathroom light — “I thought you were,” you start, then laugh, a little too loud before clapping a hand over your mouth. “Sorry. I thought you were, like… this weirdo.”
He snorts, shaking his head. “Wow. Honesty hour already?”
“No — ” you groan, waving the joint like you’re conducting an orchestra. “I mean it nicely. You always stayed away from everyone. I figured you were judging us.”
“Us?” he repeats, amused, cocking a brow when he glances at you.
“You know. People like me.” You squint at him, trying to focus. You gesture at yourself ineptly, clearly out of the ordinary intellectual capacity you clench tight, not when rickety makes up for your feet.
He quickly looks away, trying not to smile.
“Loud. Annoying.” you clarify, hand gesturing around.
He tilts his head, considering. “Was I supposed to be friends with people like you?”
You blink, like you’re thinking about what he said and calculating the rationale behind his causes. It was a hit, one that steadies a thought in your brain.
“Is that so bad?”
The question knocks the breath out of him, especially when you look up at him like that, eyes bright and wide. He blinks, and then he laughs, coming out quieter this time, looking away because he can’t keep eye contact with you. “I didn’t think you’d want that.”
“Why not?”
Because there’s a system. Because there’s levels to this shit. Because you have a boyfriend. Because you’re untouchable. Because you’re perfect and he’s whatever this was. Because people like him didn’t get pulled into your orbit unless it was transactional. Like weed exchanges and favors on the toilet.
For now, he shrugs. “Seemed like you already had your people.”
You hum, nodding slowly, then smile. You tap the joint, watching some ash fall to the tiles. “They’re loud.”
He smiles back despite himself. “Yeah. They are.”
The bathroom feels like it’s floating away from the music that pumps loud through the pipes, a constant reminder that there’s more than the stinky bathroom you two share as a secret. It’s risky because it’s merely wood that separates the crypticity of Mary Jane from the Average Joe you two function in individually.
You glance at the joint, then at him. “You’re not weird, by the way.”
“Oh?” he says, eyebrow lifting. He even scoffs, because he (un-admittedly) finds you adorable.
“You’re just… quiet. You keep to yourself, but that doesn’t make you… eccentric.” You grin lopsided, cheeks warm but you ignore that. “You’re nice.”
That one gets him, more than he’d ever admit to anyone. Riki looks over, and for half a second, his gaze slips lower before he forces it back to your face. You’re already looking at him, all soft eyes and honest mouth, like you have no idea what you’re doing to him.
He looks away first, rubbing the side of his jaw like that might help. “You’re high,” he says.
“Maybe,” you confess. “But I mean it.”
He’s been called quiet and nice all his life, but that was never the full truth. He just knew who deserved access to the rest of him, and most people didn’t. It wasn’t personal. He could talk when he wanted to, laugh when something was actually funny, keep a conversation going if he cared enough. He just didn’t feel the need to prove he had thoughts by saying all of them out loud.
Riki takes a drag, exhales slowly, looking over the tiles of the bathroom while he rethinks the decision he’s about to drop. He clears his throat before speaking, “You’re not mean either.”
Your eyes widen a little, gaze recklessly steady at his side profile. “You thought I was?”
“Everyone did,” he says honestly, smiling a little.
You make a face, frowning at him even though he refuses to look at you. “That’s rude.”
He laughs, really laughs this time, head tipping back. When he looks at you again, you’re smiling up at him like you’ve discovered something new and decided to keep it. For a moment, it feels like maybe there was always a version of this where you talked in bathrooms and shared smoke and didn’t belong where people expected you to.
You take another small drag, then suddenly straighten when you decide to take him in. He’s wearing a jacket over his hoodie, simple sweats loose around his hips. Only a few strands of his dark blonde hair graze over his forehead, leading down to the sharp features you only really notice now.
You never thought Riki Nishimura was ugly. Now, you can’t help but think that he’s… kinda hot.
You’re high, you’re just gone. That’s why. It also explains why you nudge closer than you have been before, letting your skirt brush slightly against his pants, thighs grazing slightly against his.
You’re both still smoking — slow now, like the room itself has decided to breathe with you. The bathroom feels even smaller than before, shrinking with every second the music downstairs gets louder but muffled through the wooden door keeping you a secret. Your head feels light, buoyant, like you’re floating a few inches above your body. Maybe it’s the weed. Maybe it’s the half-drinks you’d taken before this. Maybe it’s neither.
He stares at the tile beneath his boot like it holds the secrets of the universe, or like it had the equations for him to understand gravity’s intentions and how it led to him feeling your softness against him.
“Is there something on the floor?” you laugh.
He just huffs, shaking his head because that’s all he can do right now. You’re still leaning back and he’s still standing just a little too close. Your knee brushes his again, accidental but not corrected.
He looks down at you then. The red in your eyes, the crooked smile, the way you’re leaning just a little toward him like gravity’s doing something new. You lean closer because you’re completely zooted and smart-Riki who knows better, leans away and only lets his chest tighten. His eyes drop traitorously down to your lips, and he’s not fast enough to look back up. You notice, of course, which makes you both look away and straighten back on your feet instead of the wall.
Riki clears his throat, smoking the last of his before he rids of it against the sink. “You gotta go?” he asks out of the blue, which makes you frown a little. It wasn’t exactly a statement, but you know when things are implied and telling, so you shove back the nerves and remember that he’s different from you.
You’re not his type of person. He probably likes more chill people who actually know how to roll this shit — not the sheltered ones who’s clueless with THC or terms alike it.
“Yeah. I guess.” you smooth out your clothes even though nothing’s wrong with them.
He realizes what he just did, especially now that you’re not even looking back at him. He tries correcting himself, to backtrack, but the moment you glance back up, he’s silenced. You put your unfinished joint in his hand. “See you.” You say just before unlocking the door, slipping through it, and accidentally slamming it too hard.
Riki reels in from the solitude of the silence, like he’s now just realizing the ruins he broke himself. He sighs in resignation, head falling forward in defeat. “Shit.”
He stares at the thing in his hand, unfinished and yours, half-burnt and still warm.
“Idiot,” he mutters to himself, dragging a hand down his face. He can still feel the ghost of your skirt brushing his leg, the way you didn’t look back because he gave you a reason not to.
But the bathroom still smells like you — sweet perfume tangled with smoke — and the joint is there, remaining as an accusation wrapped in paper. He turns it between his fingers, thumb brushing the spot where your lipstick smudged faintly against the edge.
Riki exhales, then lifts it.
He wraps his lips around it carefully, stupidly aware of the fact that yours were there first. The thought alone makes his chest tighten, heat creeping up his neck and pelvis as he takes a slow drag.
He closes his eyes as he exhales, leaning his head back against the wall, heart thudding too loud for a room this small. For a split second, he imagines you still there — tilted smile, red-rimmed eyes, saying his name like it belongs to you, all while your boyfriend waits in the living room.
He laughs shakily under his breath. It’s so wrong.
After that, you two haven’t really talked for weeks.
That part isn’t weird. You both have lived the majority of your lives settling with the insouciance despite recognition, and one night in a bathroom, smoke and secrets and red eyes, isn’t enough to reroute that kind of muscle memory. Riki tells himself that over and over, like it’s a theorem he’s already proven.
He hasn’t been worried. He still goes to class, still shows up on time, still hands in assignments with some effort. The only difference — although barely worth mentioning — is that he’s been dipping into his stash more often than usual. A little before bed. A little after.
Riki exhales slowly, staring at the ceiling, telling himself — again — that this doesn’t mean anything and it doesn’t have anything to do with the cheer girl he kinda had a moment with in the bathroom.
It’s so fucked, even if you don’t think being his friend is bad, because you’re not meant to be a part of this. He was simply curious that Miss Cheerleader bought weed from him and kinda trusted him way too fast and that wasn’t just some everyday occurrence — that’s the only best psychological explanation why you’re here even when you’re not.
You have a boyfriend. He’s not about to be a homewrecker. Yet it’s not helping.
No talking for weeks, reaching a month even. That says enough. He has to stop.
“Probably about Little Miss Perfect.”
Riki flinches like someone just snapped a rubber band against the back of his neck. He sits up, glaring at Heeseung. “What the fuck,” he blurts. “How do you know that?”
Jake slowly looks up from his laptop, eyes lighting up like he just unlocked a bonus level.
“Oh my god.” Sunghoon’s grin spreads and Heeseung laughs, clapping like he’s won because technically he did, at the mental betting at what keeps Riki Nishimura downing his marijuana greenhouse.
“Ohhh,” Heeseung says, taunting and annoying. “So it is about her.”
Riki blinks. “No.”
“That was the weakest no I’ve ever heard,” Jake says immediately, pointing a finger at Riki. “You’re a guilty man, aren’t you?”
Riki scoffs, scrambling, fingers rubbing against his temple in attempts to cool. “You’re literally insane. Why would it be about her?”
Heeseung shrugs, casual. “I saw you two talking at that party.”
Riki’s stomach drops. “You — what?”
“Relax,” Heeseung says, laughing. “I wasn’t spying. You two just kinda had a freeze frame by the kitchen. Wasn’t so hard to notice.”
Riki opens his mouth, just to close it. Then he runs a hand through his hair with the irritated slant of said illegality stamped in your name. “We were just talking. Nothing happened.” Riki snaps, defensive again, hands up like he’s caught.
Jake squints at him. “Then why are you acting like that?”
Riki looks away. Usually, it’s enough answer to more teasing and mocking, but maybe not this time. Because now, it raises actual questions that regard his very bearing at this monumental association with you — a damn unicorn of a scene snatched out a comedy fantasy movie.
Heeseung asks carefully, “Are you, like, her boy toy or something?”
Riki whips around with the flush of unpredictability and utter shock. “What? No!”
Heeseung grins again, gentler this time. “Okay, not her boy toy. What now?”
Riki exhales, long and slow, falling back supine against the floor with the decency of a man with boundaries and the understanding of someone brilliant to keep himself away. “Nothing. She has a boyfriend. She lives in a different world.”
It’s realistic. He thinks he’ll drag the shit out of his stash to get his mind off this, because Riki Nishimura was a conformist by all means.
You’re where you’re supposed to be.
You laugh at the jokes while dawdling down the hallway with girls you actually consider your friends, your boyfriend’s arm heavy around your shoulders like it belongs there. You learned how to roll your own joints now, practiced with irritated little shrieks until it stopped being embarrassing, until they came out neat and perfect between your fingers. You don’t need him. You don’t need anyone, actually. Independence always looked good and natural on you.
Then Riki walks past with Heeseung and Jay.
Backpacks slung low, shoes dragging lazily against the floor, laughing about something stupid like someone’s terrible quiz score. Riki’s eyes stay forward like always, keeping his business private from everyone. Especially from you.
You don’t acknowledge each other beyond the bare minimum of peripheral awareness of two classmates that happen to be in the same class and two planets in the same orbit. Your boyfriend tightens his arm around you, leaning down to murmur something about lunch plans. You nod, glossed lips wrapped around a lollipop, sugar sweet and cherry-flavored on your tongue. You should be listening, you’re sure you are, until he passes.
Your eyes follow Riki — not openly, just enough to catch the back of his neck, the familiar slope of his shoulders, the same boy who leaned against a bathroom wall while you were high and laughing too much, knees brushing his because the room was small and neither of you moved away.
The lollipop slides down your tongue: all artificial sugar because the substance stays at home in the back of your secret drawer, while some of it just passed you down the hallway.
“I’ll catch up,” you say lightly, lifting your boyfriend’s arm off your shoulders. “I forgot something.”
You slip away before anyone can think too hard about it, weaving through the hallway with your lollipop still between your lips. You keep enough distance to make it look accidental, watching as Heeseung and Jay split off with quick fist bumps and loud voices. Riki keeps walking and pushes open the door to an empty lecture hall before disappearing inside.
You stop outside, remembering that this is probably the part where you’re supposed to turn around. Where the perfect, reasonable version of you remembers her boyfriend, her friends, her place in the hallway. Where the status quo reaches for your wrist and pulls you back into line.
Well, you push the door open.
Riki is near the front row, one hand still on the strap of his bag when he looks up from his seat, legs spread wide, thumbs midway to scroll through his phone. His eyes widen slightly, posture going still like he did not think you’d actually follow him.
For some reason, it thrills you. Because now he’s looking at you.
You pull the lollipop from your mouth, twirling the stick between your fingers as the door clicks shut behind you. “Hey.”
His eyes flick briefly to the door behind you. “You lost?”
This isn’t a bathroom of some random houseparty. There’s no smoke, no music, no excuse, just you, Riki, and an empty lecture hall in the middle of the school day — which means you came here on purpose.
“You should roll a joint for me again,” you say, like it’s so simple. “One of these nights.”
Riki blinks once. Then he huffs out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “What, you haven’t learned since last time?”
You step closer anyway, slow and unhurried, allowed to exist wherever you want. He leans back against his seat, still careful and invisibly (but truly) restless. “I did.” you answer, then you smile small and lazy. “You’re just better at it.”
That gets him (because you’ve been knowing what to say to get him). His eyes lift to you, amused now, something low and unreadable settling there which sets you on fire because you have no idea what he’s thinking, not even a little hint.
“Flattery,” he says, then scoffs.
You hum and step closer, close enough that his knee is almost in front of your thigh. Riki leans back in his seat, one arm loose over the desk beside him, phone forgotten in his lap.
“There’s another party this weekend,” you say. “At McKay’s. You and your friends should go.”
He tilts his head. “Should we?”
“I think so.” You shrug. “Good music, large pad, beer games.”
He chuckles, eyes dropping briefly to the floor before meeting yours again. “And you’ll be there.”
“Probably.”
“And you’ll want me to roll one for you.”
You pull the lollipop from your mouth, tapping it lightly against your lower lip as you think. “If you’re offering.”
“I’m not,” he says, but his mouth twitches.
You lean back against the edge of the desk beside him, copying his ease like you have any right to be comfortable around him. From far away, it would look casual, just two classmates talking before class. Except there’s only you standing between him and the empty rows, him sitting back in his seat, looking up at you with that unreadable expression while you try not to smile too much.
He should probably feel insulted that you only do this when nobody can see — maybe he does, if he still believes in self-respect. It’s just hard to stay offended when you’re looking at him like that.
Riki nods once. “I’ll think about it.”
Satisfied, you push off the table and head for the door. “Cool.”
When the door shuts behind you, he thinks about red eyes and smoke, about how your usual crowd will be there, your boyfriend’s arm around you just before you sneak away to Riki’s.
You’re trouble, which makes Riki smile. ‘Cause he knows damn well he’s going to that party.
-
McKay’s house is already vibrating when Riki gets there with Heeseung, Jake, and Sunghoon — bass rattling the windows, someone yelling about cups, someone else yelling back about something incomprehensible. Riki isn’t a frat boy at all, and he doesn’t really go to parties, but the perfume layered on top of alcohol is basically familiar territory.
“This place is a fire hazard,” Jake mutters, stepping over a discarded heel.
Riki scans the room pretending he doesn’t mean to, observing layouts and people, when really he’s actually looking for one specific designer wardrobe of a person.
He doesn’t see you, but he sees your usual crowd scattered around the room, posing with red cups they barely drink from and laughing a little too loud whenever someone points a camera at them. You’re not there, nor is your boyfriend, and that usually speaks for itself already.
Heeseung nudges him, already mischievous with the smile Riki can’t see. “Little Miss Perfect?”
“Fuck off,” Riki replies, flat.
Jake’s halfway to disbelief when he narrows his eyes at Riki. “You’re already staring.”
“She’s not even here,” the former hisses.
“Looking for her, though.” Sunghoon teases, practically grinning widely.
Riki pushes past them. “I’m getting a drink.”
He doesn’t get a drink. He goes through hallways and in between bodies that nudge abruptly into him, half-assed apologies going through one ear and out the other while he properly finds footing again and again. When he gets to the bathroom and finds it locked, he groans and leans back against the wall. For now, he flicks the light on his own joint and smokes away while he waits — for you, for the bathroom, for anything to make him think going here was worth it at all.
Too many girls brush against him, too many of them apologizing with tilted heads and lashes batting. He has no interest in rewarding the performance, not tonight, not when the party is already crawling under his skin, all bass-heavy music, sticky floors, smoke in the air, perfume clinging to his throat, and people packed so tightly he can’t move without touching someone. It’s too much at once; too loud, too hot, too bright, too dark. Then he sees it, and everything in him goes still.
Your boyfriend has another girl pushed against the bedroom wall.
Riki sees this through the crack of the door, just slightly opened enough for him to see how he moves his hand underneath her skirt really fucking aggressively. They’re kissing too, and it’s not at all sweet or even arousing; it’s just straight out gross. He chokes, coughing so rough and loud and forward he has to lunge himself off the wall and straight through the crowd because his first instinct is you.
Your boyfriend is cheating on you.
What the fuck is happening? Why’s your boyfriend fucking a girl like someone who knows nothing about clits? Now, Riki isn’t an expert about pleasing women but he’s watched porn enough to know that Exhibit A over there was straight-up persecution.
He finally spots you near the kitchen, talking to one of your friends with a cup in your hand. He starts toward you, but someone shoves past from behind, and he bumps lightly into your shoulder. You turn, already halfway to apologizing until you see him, your face already changing before you can stop it.
“You came,” you say, eyes flicking around before coming back to him.
He’s kinda out of breath, from the smoke and from hurrying, but he smiles too. “Yeah.”
While you’re still smiling, Riki clears his throat. It’s casual like he’s asking for a lighter, not like he’s abput to derail your night, ‘cause truth be told, he’s not sure he knows how you’ll react to the information. To be honest, he thinks about how it’s only fair — maybe — because he doubts your boyfriend knows you sneak into bathrooms with another guy. And sure, his hand isn’t performing DJ on your pussy, but the shared secrecy of eye contact with loaded tension is much more intimate than whatever the hell that was.
“Uh,” he says, hand rubbing on his jeans. “Can we talk? Like. Somewhere quieter.”
You blink. Then you nod, already stepping closer so he has to lean down to hear you.
“Bathroom or outside?” you ask, half-teasing.
“Outside,” he says easily.
The night is cold enough to make everything feel quieter, like it’s only the two of you standing under someone’s porch light while music leaks through the walls behind you. It’s strange, because you’re not even friends, not really, but the little space between you feels private in a way Riki doesn’t know what to do with. He exhales slowly, like he’s been holding his breath since the second he walked into the house, then leans back against the railing and looks at you standing across from him.
He tries finding the words first, but the way you’re looking at him tightens his chest faster than his brain can work out. Is this karma for your cheating boyfriend? Is he the instrument God has given you to slam notes back to the guy you’re practically cheating on too?
Then Riki clears his throat, casual as hell. “I saw something inside,” he continues, tone still chill but eyes a little sharper now. “Your boyfriend.”
Your smile falters. “What about him?”
“He’s, uh.” Riki taps ash off the joint. “He was fucking a girl. On a wall.”
You stare at him for a while, and he’s half-expecting you to lash out, on him, on the crowd, on your boyfriend, on something.
Instead, you laugh this small, amused breath that slips out of you before you shrug, like he told you your boyfriend spilled punch on his shirt and not that he had just seen him with another girl.
What the fuck is happening?
It feels a lot like you don’t care and that surprises Riki leading him down a rabbit hole of introspection. He was already expecting you to cry and sob or scream in the party about how much of a dick he is, how you trusted him and gave him everything — all things they do when they find out their boyfriends are cheaters.
No, you just, “Wow.” then huff a laugh. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
He blinks once, watching you carefully while you regather your thoughts as a woman who’s been said something paltry rather than an admission of an affair. To be honest, Riki doesn’t understand, so now he just stands there and looks stunned. And confused. Very confused, actually.
Riki squints at you like he’s trying to solve a trick question. “That’s it?” he asks. “That’s your reaction?”
You shrug, lifting your cup to your lips for a sip. “I mean. It’s been happening. “We’re just sorta together for our parents. They’re friends so… but that’s a story for another night.”
Oh. He never thought fake relationships were a thing.
That makes sense. How come Riki didn’t know? Was he so out of touch from school gossips hat he genuinely didn’t know that you’re actually not the perfect couple he thought you two were? Is that why Heeseung and Jake and Sunghoon didn’t react so badly? Has this been a thing? Oh my God, Riki’s ecstatic and he hasn’t even finished a joint yet.
He lets out a quick, unguarded sound. “Jesus.”
You lean back against the railing across from him, far too relaxed for a revelation that should have ruined someone’s eyeliner. Riki watches you for a second, waiting for the anger, the hurt, the sharp inhale before you turn and storm back inside. But you just stand there, cup in hand, looking more inconvenienced than heartbroken.
That’s when it hits him, slow and weirdly humiliating, that you might not care about the relationship at all.
“But,” you say lightly, “thanks for telling me.”
He blinks, then shakes his head a little. “Yeah.” His voice comes out slower than usual. “No worries.”
You glance at the joint between his fingers, your eyes lingering a second too long on the veins along his hand. “You always this heroic when you’re high?”
“No,” he says, deadpan. “It’s just who I am.”
You laugh, and despite everything, his mouth twitches. He looks back toward the door, half-expecting your boyfriend to come out and make the night complicated. When no one does, he relaxes, shoulders easing, but not completely.
Because this is new information.
Someone inside screams the chorus to a song, and the night’s way too cold for the silence that buzzes. Riki offers the joint without looking at you, just holds it out between two fingers like it’s nothing.
You hesitate for half a second. But you take it.
“You have a car?” you suddenly ask while you take a puff.
Riki blinks once, then lets out a quiet laugh, dragging his thumb along the bridge of his nose. Right, so this is his life now. He sells you weed one time, and somehow he’s standing outside a party while your boyfriend (?) cheats inside and you look mildly bored about it.
It’s stupid. It’s also the most interesting thing that’s happened to him in months.
So he just sighs and slumps back a little. “Yeah. I do.”
“Let’s go,” you say, completely not a question, flicking the finished joint on the pavement and trampling it beneath your heel. “I wanna smoke.”
He lets you trail after him through the side yard like this is already something you do, like he isn’t silently praying no one sees you following him away from the party. Gravel crunches under your shoes, the bass growing duller behind you as you cross the street toward his Supra, parked sleek and dark under the streetlamp. Riki unlocks it without looking back, rounds the hood, and opens the passenger door for you like it’s nothing.
You notice. You just don’t say anything.
Inside, the car actually smells clean and like coffee, for someone you’ve assumed is mad about marijuana and sorts alike (well, again, he’s proven how neat he is just for smelling so fucking good). He slides into the driver’s seat and just sits there for a second before turning the engine on, heater clicking low.
The silence settles, but it doesn’t feel awkward, which Riki finds suspicious. Maybe it’s because you’re not acting like the version of you he’s used to, all neat edges and perfect timing. Now your heels are on the floor of his car, your hair is loose around your face, and you’re curled into the passenger seat of a Supra you’ve never sat in before like your body decided to trust him before your brain could argue. He clears his throat, trying to get rid of the warmth at the back of his neck, but you only glance at him like you don’t notice. The hem of your skirt rides up consequently, and he tries his hardest not to look.
“Thanks. For caring.”
He shrugs, one hand resting loose on the steering wheel. “Didn’t feel right not to tell you.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I know.”
The radio flicks on — some pop song bleeding through the speakers. He then pulls out pre-rolled joints from his pockets, which he sheepishly apologizes for hygiene and, well, it’s a bit delated, although you just smile and take one. He lights yours up and you two stay there, settled in his warm seats, dissolving the chill with cannabis down your system like two people who doesn’t give a shit about the system and fucking power dynamics and popularity status.
Again, weird. Hanging out in his car like you’re old buddies who smoke in free time on the usual.
If he told himself a month ago that he would be smoking weed with the team cheer captain, he would have laughed his ass off about inhaling too much narcotics that totally screwed mental frameworks. Yet now, he’s stealing a few glances at you beside him, getting high off his greens, and he doesn’t feel completely off-center about it. It’s the weed obviously, but he feels steady. It’s charged because you’re not talking but your thoughts are everywhere, and even if you protrude the profile of indifference — he knows you care. Then again, what does he know about you, right? You are the odd in the equation, the alternative hypothesis that proves the difference in variables, and talks about the impact on the situation.
Now, conformist Riki Nishimura, who has spent his whole life respecting the ladder, is starting to wonder what happens if he climbs high enough to stand beside someone like you.
He stares through the windshield the second before he speaks. “You’re not what people think you are.”
You blink, caught off guard as you turn to him. “Is that good or bad?”
He huffs. “Depends who’s thinking it.”
You smile a little, your eyes moving over him before you can pretend they didn’t. Riki isn’t brawny in that loud, gym-mirror way, but he’s taller than he should be, broader than he looks from a distance, and unfairly very put together. His throat moves when he breathes in, and you catch yourself watching it for one embarrassing second too long.
You chew on your bottom lip. “And what do you think?”
Riki shifts in his seat, hand fidgeting against the wheel like he’s weighing how honest he’s allowed to be. “I think you’re quieter than your reputation.”
You study him now — the calm posture, the way he never overdoes anything, the way his voice stays even like he’s learned not to tip his hand.
He glances at you, then back ahead. “Makes it easier.”
You look at him for a second too long. “Easier for who?”
“You tell me.”
The car feels smaller and the windows are fogged enough that the streetlamp outside is just a blur of light now, like you’ve been sealed off from everything else. Away from the reality that boxes you two into something that makes sense rather than accepts.
You laugh once, but it comes out softer than planned. “You always psychoanalyze girls in your car?”
“No.”
“Just me?”
His mouth twitches. “You asked.”
You turn your head toward the window, trying to keep your face normal. “You don’t know me that well.”
“I know.”
Riki finally turns to you, one hand still resting loose on the steering wheel. His eyes are a little low, a little unreadable, but not careless — that might be the problem.
“I’m not saying I do,” he says. “I’m saying people don’t either.”
Your fingers fidget with the joint, rolling it carefully between them even though you’re barely paying attention to it anymore. The tip glows faintly, forgotten for a second, and Riki reaches over without thinking to tap the ash into the tray before it can fall on your skirt.
You look down at his hand, then back at him when he hands it to you.
“Don’t you think that’s weird?” you ask. “Like, what kind of girl is cheer captain and smokes weed? Who gets into a fake relationship because of her parents? Doesn’t that sound kind of fucked?”
He looks at you for a moment.
Then he leans back, eyes returning to the windshield. “I sell weed.”
He says it from the driver’s seat of a spotless car that smells like coffee and cologne. It’s stupidly funny, actually, the whole contrast of him that kinda looks like you.
You laugh before you can stop yourself. “That’s different.”
“How?” he snickers.
You open your mouth, then close it again because you don’t actually have a good answer. “I don’t know,” you admit, laughing a little. “It just is.”
He hums like he expected that. Then he glances at you before back through the windshield. “I don’t think you’re weird,” His eyes flick over your face. “I think you’re bored.”
Obviously, that makes you furrow your brows. Obviously, you let him continue speaking.
“Of your boyfriend. Your friends. Your parents already knowing what you’re going to do.” His mouth twitches faintly. “Probably bored at being good at the same shit every day.”
You should probably deny it. It surprises you that you don’t, even though you’ve sworn hatred towards men that think they can assume your personality because of one little circumstance.
“That’s why you’re here, right?” Riki’s eyes drop to your hand, then back to your face.
Your throat tightens.
“With me,” he adds.
He doesn’t smile like he won, he just sits there with one hand loose on the wheel, like he already knows the answer and is kind enough not to make you say it.
The air between you feels worse, like the moment before a storm cracks open into his car, and electrocutes you with a spark you’ve never experienced in your life. Which is eccentric considering you’re not the type of girl who’d be in Riki’s car instead of a party dominated by your friends, getting high off shit that would make your parents pass out.
You scoff and look away, shaking your head like the whole thing is ridiculous. “You talk like you know everything.”
“I just guessed one fucking thing.”
You roll the joint between your fingers again, slower now. “Maybe I just wanted to try something.”
“With me?”
Your eyes cut to him, and you see there’s a slight curve to his mouth, like he heard the shape of your answer before you even made it.
You huff. “You’re so annoying.”
Neither of you moves. Just suspended there, breathing the same warm air, the song on the radio dissolving into background noise, the world narrowed down to inches and intent and maybe weak will and strong urges. The tension’s palpable, solid enough that you could feel it grow between your thighs.
You’re probably one more joint away from being zooted, and Riki knows this of course, which is why he keeps his eyes narrowed across him and not the woman who’s audibly shifting in her seat.
He’s high too — faster than usual — and it makes the moment stretch in this you know kind because he’s thinking bad. He keeps his gaze trained somewhere between the fogged windshield and the blur of your reflection in it, like it’s the only thing keeping him at bay.
For the record — you’re both twenty, obviously adults, even if the world still insists on calling you kids. Which is also the very age people let you experience the paradox of being too grown and too immature for anything consistent, so the underestimation you endure as an adult, smart woman, cheerleader, and a kinda-child — wow you’re in deep detestation for that system.
So you take control of things you can handle.
You’re a conformist, no doubt. Except in areas you loathe men’s freedom in yet expect restraint for women. So… in diminutive ways, you indulge. Like weed. Like running council. Like wearing short skirts. Like Riki Nishimura.
You glance at him sideways, voice light, almost bored. Almost. “So,” you say, like you’re asking about his major or what song’s playing on the radio. “I will ask you something kind of personal.”
Riki exhales a quiet laugh. “You’re already in my car smoking my weed. I think the line’s gone.”
You smile, satisfied, then tilt your head back against the seat.
“Are you a virgin?”
The question hangs there. Unembellished and very dangerous in its simplicity. Also, of course, bold, which makes Riki actually freeze — a half-second pause where even his breathing stutters. Then he scoffs, shaking his head like he can’t believe you just dropped that between the heater hum and the low bass leaking from the house.
He blames the weed, though part of him wishes it isn’t from that.
“You always ask things like that?”
“I’m curious,” you say easily. “And a little high.” you gesture with your thumb and forefinger.
He rubs the back of his neck, eyes flicking to you now despite himself. “Why?” he asks. “Does it change your opinion of me?”
You meet his gaze, unblinking. “I don’t know yet. That’s why I asked.”
He huffs a soft laugh. He admits to embarrassment, even if it doesn’t cover his entire skin with flush and heat, he’s never found himself in this position. But honestly, nothing from the past few weeks has ever been something he prepared for — which he has you to blame, of course.
“Yeah.” he licks the corner of his lips, refusing to meet your eyes while he taps the steering wheel. “I am.”
Your eyebrows lift, impressed but not shocked. “Huh.”
Riki looks over. “Huh?” he mocks.
You bite back a smile and turn toward the window, but the reflection gives you away. “I just didn’t expect that.”
He scoffs, looking back at the windshield. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” You shrug, still smiling a little. “You sell weed. And you drive this car.”
“And?”
“And you look like that.”
For one second, Riki’s fingers still on the steering wheel, and he learns to shut up. He lets out a quiet laugh after, but it sounds different this time, lower and almost embarrassed. “You’re so fucking high,”
That makes him quiet, makes him adjust on his seat. He’s touched a woman before, but no one’s ever sat on his dick, nor has he ever been in anyone. So maybe he’s half a virgin, maybe he’s just a sore loser. He watches you as you move, as you turn in the seat, knees pressing into the leather, facing him fully now. The space changes instantly, the air recalibrating around your movement and maybe even pushing you further toward him.
Riki stiffens — just suddenly very aware, and perhaps a little scared. “Uh,” he says, brows knitting. “What are you doing?”
You tilt your head, resting your hands casually on the seat, perfectly balanced. “Bored, like you said,” you say. “And my boyfriend’s cheating on me. Again.”
He swallows. His gaze drops, then snaps back up to your face, like he’s trying very hard to stay respectful and failing in slow motion because you’re especially gorgeous tonight. “That’s… not a great combo,” he says.
“Not really,” you agree.
You lean in just enough for him to feel it — not touch, not yet. Just close enough that he can smell your gloss, the faint sweetness still clinging to you, and the cannabis that if he warrants himself the scary concept, is his mark on you.
“At least you don’t think I’m boring.”
Riki exhales, a real one this time, like he’s surrendering to the moment instead of fighting it because what can a simple guy like him do, right? His eyes flick to your mouth again — longer now — and when he looks back up, there’s a decision there, from someone who’s tired of conforming.
You close the distance then, slow enough that he could pull away if he wanted to. When he doesn’t, your lips meet in a kiss that’s brief and soft at first. Riki’s hand lifts instinctively, stopping just short of your waist, hovering there like he’s giving you the choice.
When you kiss again, you’re pressing harder, with the very intent to steal the air from his lungs. So that is what happens, you inhale and climb over the console and close your knees around his waist and he’s breathing shakily against your mouth, fighting for the oxygen he’s willingly giving away.
Your cunt presses against the zipper of his jeans, and when you roll, he pulls away like he’s burnt.
“W-wait — this isn’t — we can’t do this.” He shakes his head insistently, looking down your joined thighs while he regains composure.
You frown. “Why not?”
He looks back up at you, eyes wide and glossy from the taste of your cherry gloss and his greens in your mouth. He looks like he can’t handle this. You’re high, he’s high, this isn’t a good idea. You’re perfect, he’s not, this isn’t a good idea. You’re pretty and he sells weed, this isn’t a good idea.
“Because you have a boyfriend.” he says weakly.
You smile, fingers brushing into the hair at his nape. “Not really.”
He stares at you before he laughs, quiet and disbelieving, like the whole situation is so stupid he has no choice but to let it be funny for half a second. You’re in his lap, his car is fogged, your party is across the street, and apparently your boyfriend is more of a family arrangement than an actual person you care about.
“This is so fucked,” he mutters.
Still, he kisses you anyway. His hand finally settles at your waist, firm enough to make your breath catch. His fingers press into your flesh just before he pulls you closer and his hips thrusts up underneath you.
His bulge presses hard against your clothed cunt, and a small whimper slips out his mouth. Your thighs practically clench around him, your core tightening as you rub yourself on him. Beneath the jeans secured around his hips, the start of his v-line peeks, in which you softly graze with your thumb.
“F-fuck,” he whispers, resigned while he lets his head fall back against the headrest.
When you kiss him again this time, it’s slow and languid and licking into his mouth, and your hips start rolling against his while he unconsciously bucks into you. You gasp at the feeling of his growing erection despite the jeans, and you can’t help but feel rushed because it’s been way too long.
His body’s hot and he doesn’t understand why he can’t even talk properly. “Are you okay?” you ask, kissing his cheek. He just nods.
“This is so wrong,” Riki says softly and raspy.
You just smile and kiss him again, feeling how sloppy he’s starting to become when your tongues meet. You set the pace, careful with how you bite and suck, more of a learning curve with what you like best rather than devouring. Riki realizes this and slows down too, relaxing underneath your thighs while his cock remains bulging against you. Your soft fingers slither at the back of his hair, tugging and caressing, while he finds the courage to sneak his tongue into your mouth.
When you pull to breathe, he’s practically panting. “You can touch me.” you whisper.
His gaze practically flicks up to look up at you, silently asking for clarification. You don’t use words, you instead take his wrists and start dragging his hands from your waist to underneath your shirt. His breath hitches at the feeling of your soft skin against his, watching intently as you guide his hands further beneath your cotton top, until his fingers slightly grazes the soft swell of the underside of your breasts.
“Shit.” Riki mutters, his breath unstable when you let go. He looks for your eyes, asking for instructions, except you just smile and lean in to kiss him again with your hands on his jaw.
So he takes it upon himself to move by his own. His fingers grazes the soft skin, careful and learning, testing the underside swell by gently squeezing. After that, he gains confidence, hands going further up until they touch your nipples.
You gasp, pulling away to breathe when he starts gently pinching them, rolling them against the pads of his fingertips. He plays with them for a little while, watching your reactions when you sigh heavy, when your eyes close, when you lean further against his touch. It’s so good, he doesn’t even notice how painfully hard he is when he can feel just how sensitive your nipples are, when he can feel the weight of your breast as he cups them.
After a while, he finally stops, hands gliding down your ribs instead, thumbs still grazing slightly at the curve. Your kissing eases, reduced to pecks and softness. At rest and caress, you giggle and he chuckles, finally reeling in from the moment at how high he feels.
From your taste, your softness, your clothed pussy still pressing against his hard-on.
“You’re good for a virgin.” you say.
At that, Riki huffs and leans his head back against the rest, caressing your waist while he watches your face. You’re very pretty, even when your lipsticks smudged and you’re clearly teasing him, not touching him at all.
He doesn’t mind. He doesn’t think he’ll mind for a long time. “I’m trying to make decent decisions.”
You tilt your head. “And kissing me is one?”
His jaw tightens a little, but he smiles. “It’s a very bad decision.”
“Mm.” You lean closer, but you don’t kiss him this time. “You stopped.”
“Because I don’t want to be your rebound,”
The teasing fades just a little. Your fingers, which had been lazily tracing the back of his neck, slow, and now you look at him too, at the way he’s looking at you like something cliche is about to happen now that he’s tasted something better than marijuana.
“You think I’d use you?” you ask.
He shrugs. “I don’t know.”
You study him for a moment. His nose and ears are still pink, which admittedly does something to you. It makes him look shyer somehow, less untouchable, like all that quiet control has slipped just enough for you to see he’s not as unaffected as he wants to seem.
He looks back at you, thumb moving once at your waist. “Let me take you out.”
You stare at him. “You’re asking me on a date right now? While I’m sitting on you?”
His mouth twitches despite himself. “Not my best timing.”
You laugh, soft and surprised, but he doesn’t laugh with you right away. You lean in again, slower and softer, just lips meeting and staying there, but his breath still hitches. You lets it last for a few seconds before you pull back, still close enough that your noses nearly brush.
“Ask me when we’re not high.”
Then he laughs once, quiet and disbelieving, his hand flexing at your waist. “Fine.”
Riki drives you home that night and you arrive at around 3 am, friends completely unaware of where you are or who you’re with — but you don’t care, even when your phone’s blown out of weird proportion. You laugh when he insists on walking you to your front porch, just to make sure you don’t slip and fall and he wouldn’t lose his favorite weed customer.
“You’re ridiculous, Riki Nishimura.” you shove at his arm weakly.
“And you,” he leans down enough that his nose nudges yours. “are so pretty.”
You laugh harder, admittedly a little flustered the way you never have been before. He tells you to eat something real when you head in, and you mock him for it but he just smiles and nods, agrees with the idea he is so, very stupid and funny for you.
Riki thinks the universe is testing him. Because ever since last night, every single thing reminds him of you.
The cherry gloss taste still ghosting his mouth when he wakes up, the faint perfume lingering on his hoodie, even the stupid heater smell in the car feels different now, like the seats remember the way you climbed over the console and kissed him until his dick ached for you.
“Dude,” Jake says, throwing his duffel bag. “You look like shit.”
Riki drags a hand through his hair. “Thanks.”
Jake doesn’t push it, which Riki appreciates for about three seconds before he sees where the cheer team is practicing. On the other side of the gym court, you’re standing with your friends, ponytail tied high, hands on your hips while you go over counts as the captain. You’re not doing anything special, occasionally laughing at something one of the girls beside you says, but Riki still feels his attention pull toward you like it has no discipline left.
He looks away first.
PE is already starting by the time he reaches their side of the court. He pulls his sleeveless shirt down properly and rolls his shoulders once, mostly because he needs something to do with his body. His hair keeps falling near his eyes, and he can feel sweat gathering at the back of his neck before class has even properly started.
He tells himself not to look. But then he looks.
You’re already looking too.
It only lasts a second. Your eyes meet his, then drop briefly to his arms before you turn back to your friends like nothing happened. Riki presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek and looks at the ball in his hands, suddenly way too aware of himself.
Jake notices, but all he does is glance between the two of you. “Since when do you know her like that?”
Riki bounces the ball once. “I don’t.”
Jake gives him a look. Riki doesn’t look back. “Not like that.”
“Okay.”
The drill starts, and for a while, it’s just run, catch, dribble, pass, move. Riki focuses on the court, on the PE teacher’s whistle, on the ball against his palms. It works for half the time, until your voice cuts across the space, counting with the rest of the cheer team, and he misses a pass by half a second.
“Pay attention,” Jake says, not even laughing.
“I am.”
“You’re really not.”
Later, when the class breaks for water, Riki walks toward the drinking fountain and finds you there already, refilling your bottle. Your friends are a few steps away, talking among themselves, close enough to notice if either of you makes it obvious, far enough that neither of you has to pretend not to see each other.
He stands behind you to wait for his turn, and from afar, it doesn't look scandalous. You take your time refilling your bottle, eyes forward, one hand steadying the plastic under the stream. He keeps his gaze on the wall in front of you, jaw working once, because he knows exactly what you're doing when you lean a little farther than necessary and let the silence stretch.
Your skirt shifts when you bend, showing the backside of your thighs and the slight swell of your ass, and he sighs through his nose like he's deeply disappointed in both of you. Then he looks away completely.
You bite back a smile.
When the bottle finally fills, you straighten and cap it slowly, still not moving right away. He doesn't meet your eyes when you step aside, he just moves in, bends toward the fountain, and presses one hand against the edge for balance.
Then it's your turn to look away. But you don't, not even shamelessly. Because you’re the girl who got things her way and never got scared of the repercussions.
His sleeveless shirt pulls against his shoulders when he leans down, arm tense from holding himself there, the veins along his bicep showing under the gym lights. Water hits his mouth, and you watch the way his hair falls near his eyes, the way his throat moves when he swallows. It's stupid, actually, how normal he's being and how much worse that makes it.
Riki finishes drinking, straightens, and wipes the water from his chin with the back of his hand. Only then does he look at you.
You're still staring. And for a second, neither of you says anything.
His expression barely changes, but something in his eyes does, like he caught you and decided not to make it easy. "What?"
You blink, then lift your bottle a little. "You took forever."
He looks at you, calm, unreadable, except for the faint color rising at the tips of his ears and the slight lift on the corner of his mouth. "You're one to talk."
Your friends laugh at something behind you, and the sound snaps the moment thinner, not enough to break it, but enough to remind you both where you are. You glance over your shoulder, then back at him, only to find he's still watching you. Not obviously, just enough to show that he knows exactly what that night did to you, and worse, exactly what this day is doing too.
And that he’s enjoying the view.
You tuck your bottle against your chest and step back. "Try not to miss another pass."
His mouth curves. "Then don't distract me."
The second he says it, your smile gets bigger, like a shared inside joke between you two now. Then you turn back to your team, and he stays by the fountain for one extra second, pretending the afternoon heat is the reason he can't stop feeling warm. In the locker room, he pretends it’s celibacy that’s making his cock hard again, and not the picture of you bending in front of him, the fat of your ass presenting itself to him so adorably.
In the cafeteria, while pages turn and keyboards clack for an upcoming test for biology, you try your best to stay focused the way you can on the usual. Riki was right about you — you were smarter than what people thought, and the merit beside your name is shocking to a whole lot when it’s pasted on the board.
You think you’re no longer smart. Not when you’re staring at the open reviewer in front of you, color coded with little sticky tabs but you’re still distracted.
You grab your coffee and drink, just to try if that could help with your lost concentration. Something about protein synthesis and cell division. Something about how Riki’s hands looked wrapped around the steering wheel that one night while he called you weird and interesting in the same breath.
This is so inconvenient.
“Babe.”
Your boyfriend slides into the empty chair beside you like he owns the furniture, sunglasses pushed up on his head even though the cafeteria lighting could barely offend a bitch. His hand settles automatically on your thigh beneath the table, casual and familiar, and you almost flinch.
“You disappeared last night,” he says casually.
You lean back in your chair. “I told you I left.”
“Yeah, but where?”
You think briefly about Riki’s car parked under the streetlamp — fogged windows, heated air, cherry gloss smeared on his mouth, plump lips smirking in restraint, hands squeezing you in the right place, keeping you in place.
“I just went home,” you reply smoothly.
Your boyfriend hums, clearly unconvinced, but also has about three seconds of emotional stamina left for the topic, so he lets it go and steals one of your fries instead. “My parents want dinner with you this weekend.” he says instead.
He continues talking about it but you’re staring at the flashcards and reviewers in front of you, imagining what your parents would say if Riki would’ve showed up to a family dinner instead. Maybe he’d appear in different clothes, a white button-up just to sit there and attempt to look polite in ways he isn’t with you — which makes your heart jump a little.
Dinner drags on for three excruciating hours.
Three whole hours of crystal glasses and polished silverware and your boyfriend’s parents discussing investment portfolios. The restaurant is one of those stupidly expensive places where portions are microscopic and every waiter looks vaguely judgmental — you don’t complain, you’re rather very grateful for his parents (sometimes).
You sat there in a pretty dress your mother picked out. Your boyfriend talks over you twice when you try contributing to the conversation, his mother asks about your grades before asking how cheerleading is going, like academics and aesthetics are the only two things remotely interesting about you. At some point, your boyfriend likes another girl’s Instagram story right beside you at the table and everything about the night is just bad.
You just feel tired, especially on the way home.
Tired in the way performances always leave you feeling like you’ve spent hours acting inside a role you got stuck with years ago — because it mostly worked in your favor, until that one time you decided to jump out of your comfort zone and try weed. It’s the worst thing you have done, but it’s the only thing that made you feel good.
Your heels click quietly against the marble floors when you enter your house and you make it halfway upstairs before the pressure behind your eyes finally cracks. Obviously, you don’t sob out of sadness, just frustrated tears slipping down your cheeks while you struggle with the zipper of your dress. “Fuck,” you mutter.
Your makeup’s ruined now; mascara faintly smudged beneath your eyes, lipstick mostly gone except for traces still staining your mouth.
Before you can think too hard about it — which is kind of bad — you open Riki’s contact, and your fingers move faster than your dignity can intervene.
you:
he actually sucks so bad
like genuinely i think talking to drywall has more nuance
You exhale through your nose and laugh weakly at yourself because obviously Riki probably has better things to do than babysit you after 9PM, not when you’re just another weed customer and smoking buddy he had. You toss your phone onto the bed and sit in silence for a second, still in your dress, earrings discarded somewhere.
You try not to think about anything for the minutes you’ve spent staring at the ceiling: not about Riki, or your dumb boyfriend, or your (im)perfect life, or the way Riki kissed you, or the way he looked at you, or the way he thought about you.
Because that's the part that bothers you most. Not the kiss itself, not even the fact that you wanted it, but the way he seemed to actually think about you before touching you. Like you weren't just pretty or convenient or someone people liked because you made sense beside them. Riki looked at you like he was trying to understand you, and somehow that felt more intimate than anything you've ever had.
And maybe that makes you painfully average.
Maybe you’re not special at all, maybe you’re just another girl in the long, embarrassing history of girls who developed feelings for the first boy who looked at them like they were a person. Congratulations, really. Very original and groundbreaking, for being part of the emotionally confused teenage girls.
You turn onto your side and press your face into your pillow, immediately hating yourself for how dramatic that feels.
Until something taps three times against your window.
Your brows furrow immediately because your bedroom is on the second floor and nobody normally knocks on windows like some suburban horror movie, you don’t even try to look because of what could be there. For a second, you genuinely think you’re hallucinating from emotional exhaustion and expensive restaurant food and maybe (you did not do prior research) the possibility of the long term hallucinations of marijuana.
Then it happens again. Three deliberate taps.
You sit up slowly from the edge of your bed, the strap of your dress slipping off one shoulder while your heels remain abandoned somewhere near the door. When you turn to the window, your heart practically falls from your chest when you see Riki standing outside like a fucking delinquent moron. He’s standing on the roof of the first floor near your window, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows, while one hand steadies himself against the frame.
You burst out laughing while fumbling with the lock of your window. Riki’s entire expression softens the second he hears you laugh and that does something unhealthy to him.
Because he drove for twenty minutes thinking about you crying over some guy who doesn’t even look at you properly, wondering if climbing a house at this hour officially qualifies as insanity (he’s never done that before, and it doesn’t sound so conformist right now either). Riki’s usually good at self-restraint, at risk assessment, at understanding what makes sense and what doesn’t.
For the record, this doesn’t make sense. Yet here he is anyway.
“Hi.”
You stare at him in disbelief once you finally open your window. “What the fuck are you doing?” you whisper-yell.
“You sounded sad.”
“Is that supposed to be an answer?”
“What?” he says defensively while climbing inside carefully. “You said your boyfriend sucks. That sounded shitty.”
The second he lands properly inside your room, he looks at you before anything else. He’s used to seeing you fixed with perfect hair, perfect smile, perfect posture, like you just stepped out of a university brochure about good conduct and that the school cheer spirit is something one definitely needs for personal development.
This version of you feels familiar, and traitorously and selfishly, he thinks it’s for him.
Your dress is wrinkled now, your jewelry sits slightly crooked against your skin, your makeup’s smudged enough to expose the eyebags underneath, and your hair’s started falling from whatever expensive style you wore to dinner.
Riki swallows once before he can stop himself. “You were crying?”
Immediately, you look away, a bit embarrassed when you realize what you look like. “Don’t make it weird.”
“I’m not making it weird,” he says quickly, hands lifting instinctively. “I just.”
He cuts himself off because he suddenly realizes he has no idea how to navigate this. Girls usually don’t text him while being miserable and summon him to their bedroom windows like some modern romance movie directed by a bad romcom enthusiast. Nothing is romcom-y about this.
So instead, awkwardly, he holds the backyard vegetation toward you.
“I got you these.”
Flowers. They aren’t roses and lilies, especially not the peonies your boyfriend orders because it looks better in pictures. They’re not anything arranged like the bouquets your boyfriend’s family sends during competitions and birthdays and events where impression matters. They usually screamed ‘I have money’ so I had my manager fix these for you.
Riki brought you wildflowers, which are tiny white, yellow, and purple ones bundled unevenly together like he picked them himself on the side of the road and decided, yeah, these ones are perfect. They’re crooked and asymmetrical and a little pathetic, and it weirdly looks a lot like you.
You take them carefully, looking down at the tiny flowers bundled together with what suspiciously resembles a broccoli rubber band.
“Oh my God,” you laugh quietly. “These are so ugly.”
He looks offended immediately. “Okay, first of all, fuck you.”
You laugh, open and loud. “They’re literally weeds.”
“I mean. Matches us, no?” he argues.
You’re still smiling when you bring them closer to inspect, and he notices your eyes when you admire them because he notices everything when it comes to you now, apparently.
“He made you cry?” he asks quieter this time.
You look up at him, flowers resting against your chest while you slump a little. “Not exactly.”
He raises his brows. “That means yes.”
You sigh, gaze dropping to the petals between your fingers. “He’s just…” You shake your head slowly. “I don’t know. I guess I’m really sick of it.”
Riki stays quiet — not because he doesn’t have thoughts, but because he has too many.
The thing is, he understands that social hierarchy is basically one giant theater production and he’s spent his entire life studying how to survive inside it correctly — he’s admitted to live in it quite comfortably. Which people to talk to, which ones to avoid, what behavior keeps life stable and uncomplicated, who not to sell weed to.
You were supposed to be part of that stable world, the part that he shouldn’t have had any associations with. Instead, you’re now standing barefoot in front of him holding ugly flowers with watery eyes while confiding in him like he’s become something safe. Now he’s giving a girl weeds for flowers, while his own cannabis has become untouched for quite a while now.
You narrow your eyes up at him suddenly, a teasing smile on your lips. “You could’ve used the front door.”
“And say what?” he snorts. “‘Good evening, your daughter texted me so I’m here to comfort her?”
You laugh again and Jesus Christ, he thinks he’d probably climb ten more roofs if it meant hearing that sound a second time.
Which is not good at all.
He looks around your room now, and he finds that is not in the dramatic movie sense where he’s overwhelmed by femininity and candles or whatever bullshit directors think teenage girls do in bedrooms. It’s just your space and that feels undeniably you in a way he’s never gotten access to before — never thought he would, actually. There’s a stack of annotated reviewers on your desk beside skincare products, then a half-folded cheer uniform hangs over your chair. Your bookshelf is organized by color at first glance, but he notices that some books are stuffed sideways and doubled-up like gave up halfway through organizing.
You’re contradiction after contradiction. Which feels fitting considering Riki’s currently inside the bedroom of a girl he once categorized under absolutely not my problem.
This is exactly why social structures exist. To prevent situations like this where a guy who sells weed ends up standing in the bedroom of a girl who looks expensive enough to kill him.
You set the flowers carefully on your vanity like they’re not random plants held together by produce rubber. Riki watches how gentle your hands are, watches the way your dress slips slightly higher on your thigh when you move.
You step closer to him after, eyes peeking through your lashes, and he starts to feel drunk from your perfume. “You really came all the way here because I was sad?” you ask softly.
Riki opens his mouth automatically with something sarcastic prepared because that’s safer, because joking is easier than admitting the truth. But then he looks at you looking at him like he’s become something important frighteningly fast.
Honesty slips out before he can stop it. “Yeah.”
Your eyes soften in a way that completely wrecks him, because nobody’s ever looked at him like this before — like he did something meaningful instead of useful.
You step even closer now until there’s barely space between you. “You’re really bad at being casual,” you murmur.
He huffs a laugh. “You climbed into my lap the first time we kissed.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“I was high.”
“And what’s your excuse now?”
Your lips twitch and his gaze drops there instinctively.
Big mistake, because now he’s thinking about kissing you again and suddenly being in your bedroom at midnight feels significantly more dangerous than it did when he drove here. Riki clears his throat and looks away first. Usually he’s good at eye contact, good at keeping composure, good at staying levelheaded even when situations become complicated, because he knows emotional regulation keeps things orderly, predictable, and safe.
You are none of those things anymore.
Standing this close to you feels like someone slowly dismantling every sensible thought process he’s ever had and replacing it with bad decisions and pretty girls in wrinkled dresses.
Riki swallows, eyes still not fully on yours. “Do you know what you’re gonna do?”
You sigh, shoulders dropping a little as you look away. “I don’t know.”
Riki nods, though he doesn’t look surprised. “Well,” he says quietly, “you aren’t happy.”
The honesty in his voice catches you off guard, because it isn’t dramatic or possessive or demanding — it’s actually the complete opposite. He says things carefully. Your boyfriend never talks to you carefully.
You study Riki for a second — the slight flush across his cheeks, the hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows, the fact he literally climbed your house because you sounded sad over text.
Clearly, he’s lost the plot somewhere. He might find it in your room, but why would it be there?
You look at the boy who notices everything about you, who reads you better than anyone ever did. And maybe that’s pathetic, but after a long time of performance and image, you can’t quite find irrationality when something finally sees you so clearly.
You don’t even realize you’re crying again until his expression changes. The tears just spill over quietly, slipping down your cheeks before you can catch them, and for a second, you don’t understand why his eyes drop there with so much concern because you aren’t sad, nor overwhelmingly happy.
His hand lifts and his fingers touch your cheek lightly and carefully. His thumb brushes beneath your eye, catching the tear before it reaches your jaw. Then the other hand comes up too, steadying your face with a gentleness that makes your throat tighten worse than the crying did. You stare up at him while he wipes your face like it’s something important, his hands warm, his touch steady even though his breathing isn’t. He just keeps his palms against your cheeks, thumbs soft under your eyes, focused on you.
Riki’s thumb slows beneath your eye, his gaze moving over your face with something almost pained. “You’re too pretty to cry over him,” he says quietly.
Your hand lifts before you can think better of it, fingers wrapping gently around his wrist to keep him there. His skin is warm beneath your palm, and for a second, his whole body seems to still when you touch him. You look up at him because he’s so tall this close, broad enough to block out half your room, and he’s holding your face like you might bruise if he moves wrong.
“I’m not crying over him,” you say, and your voice comes out quieter, “I think I’m crying because I want someone else.”
His hand stays against your cheek, but his thumb stops moving entirely. He has no immediate answer right now, no dry comment waiting in the back of his throat, no clever way to make the moment smaller than it feels. He just looks at you, like he heard you perfectly and still needs another second for it to reach the rest of him.
He shifts closer, but only slightly, careful enough that you notice the restraint. “Are you sure?”
You let out a tiny, breathless laugh. “Yes.”
Then your gaze drops from his eyes, not because you’re embarrassed exactly, but because looking at him straight on feels like standing too close to something bright. Your eyes settle on his chest instead, on the front of his hoodie rising and falling with a breath he’s clearly trying to control. His hands move from your cheeks, careful and slow, until his palms settle just beneath your jaw while his fingers slip behind your ears, curling gently at the back of your neck.
For a second, you think he’s going to kiss you.
Actually, you know he is. You can feel it in the way his breathing changes, in the way his eyes drop to your mouth and stay there this time, no pretending it was an accident. He’s close enough that you can smell his cologne and whatever terrible decision-making brought him to your window.
Then something in you panics — not because you don’t want him to.
That’s the problem. You want him so much it feels insulting to every sensible part of your life (even though you’ve made many irrational choices that have shamed them anyway). You want him in your room, in your space, in the middle of all the pretty, curated pieces of yourself nobody else gets to see messy. You want him, and it would be so easy to lean up and let that be the answer. But there is still one stupid, technical, irritating thing standing between you and that, so you pull back a little.
He freezes immediately, hands dropping like he thinks he did something wrong. “What?”
“I need to do something.”
His brows pull together. “Right now?”
You turn away before you can lose your nerve, moving toward your bed where your phone is half-buried in the sheets. Your hands are unsteady when you pick it up, which is annoying because you are not the kind of girl who fumbles — you are the kind of girl who answers essay questions with proper structure, corrects formations instinctively, and pretends she’s fine so convincingly that people believe it until it becomes inconvenient not to.
Calling your boyfriend while Riki Nishimura stands in your bedroom after midnight is, admittedly, not your most elegant moment, but there’s a kind of clarity to it too.
He stays behind you, quiet, watching as you scroll to the contact you have ignored for most of the night. His name on your screen looks strange now.
The call rings twice.
Riki moves closer, though not touching you yet, just behind your shoulder, close enough that you can feel the heat of him. It makes focusing much harder, which is extremely inconsiderate for someone who climbed into your room to be supportive.
Your boyfriend answers with your name, voice already irritated. “It’s late. I’m busy.”
You close your eyes for half a second. “I’m just letting you know. We’re done.”
There is a pause. “What?”
You swallow, your grip tightening around the phone. “I’m breaking up with you.”
Behind you, Riki goes very still. Your boyfriend lets out a humorless laugh. “Are you serious right now?”
“Yes.”
“After everything? After tonight, you’re just gonna call me and say that?”
You stare at the wall in front of you. It’s absurd, actually, how little the anger reaches you. Maybe you should be shaking or crying harder or preparing a speech that starts with all the ways he hurt you — instead, you feel strangely calm.
He starts talking again, louder this time, something about your parents, his parents, how you’re overreacting, how you both agreed, how you don’t get to act innocent either. Until Riki’s hand appears beside you, and he takes the phone from your hand.
Your eyes widen. “Riki.”
He looks at the screen, hears your boyfriend still talking, then tosses the phone onto the bed, where it lands face-up against the sheets, the call still running, your boyfriend’s voice now small and furious through the speaker.
“What are you doing?” you whisper.
His eyes stay on yours. “You already broke up with him.”
On the bed, your ex says your name again, sharp and confused, but neither of you are looking at the phone.
Riki lifts one hand, not touching your face yet, just brushing his knuckles lightly near your jaw like he’s giving you one last chance to move away.
That is all he needs before he kisses you. It is not rushed, not messy from panic, just a little harsh from jealousy. But it’s slow enough to make your knees feel unreliable, steady enough that your whole body seems to understand before your brain does. You grab the front of his hoodie and he exhales against your mouth, the sound going straight through you. His hand settles at the side of your neck, thumb brushing under your jaw while his other hand finds your waist, careful but sure.
The phone is still there, your boyfriend is still talking. It should ruin the moment, but it doesn’t. If anything, it makes the whole thing feel worse in the way your heart is pounding too hard, in the way Riki keeps kissing you like he’s trying not to prove a point and failing anyway, in the way you know this is a terrible way to end a relationship and still cannot bring yourself to care.
Riki pulls back just enough to breathe, forehead almost touching yours. “He talks a lot,” he says quietly.
You laugh before you can stop yourself, and he kisses you before you can even finish a thought he physically cannot hear another word about your boyfriend tonight, earning a gasp from your mouth. It’s soft at first, his mouth catching yours that makes you go still for half a second, surprised, and then your hand tightens around his wrist as you kiss him back. He exhales through his nose, quiet and shaky, and his fingers press a little more firmly into your nape, not pulling you in too hard, just holding you.
You make this soft startled sound against his lips and he swears it nearly kills him on impact. When he pulls back just enough to breathe, his forehead bumps lightly against yours.
“I don’t wanna talk about him anymore,” he says quietly.
His voice comes out rougher than before. You stare at him for a second, and your lips twitch.
“Okay,” you whisper.
He kisses you again almost immediately, and this time you kiss him back just as fast, your chests pressing against one another until you can feel the rapid beat of his heart through his hoodie. His hands find your waist, the weight of them warm and steady through the thin fabric of your dress, like he’s grounding you and keeping himself grounded too.
You tilt your head up to meet him properly, rising slightly onto your toes without meaning to, and he bends down into you like the movement pulls something out of him. His fingers press carefully at your sides, thumbs shifting once against your waist. The kiss deepens then, your hand sliding up the front of his hoodie until you’re holding onto him too.
Riki exhales against your mouth, almost shaky, and his grip tightens for one second before he loosens it again, like he’s reminding himself to be careful.
Without so much as a few words, your gaze meets his. But that’s not enough for him, not when he needs to hear that you want this too. The zipper you struggled with earlier starts undoing when his hand finds the back, before he leans in just enough for his voice to drop between you.
"Words, baby," he whispers.
He isn't teasing now. His voice is low, but careful, like he needs to hear you say it before he lets himself want anything more.
You swallow, fingers tightening lightly in his hoodie. "I want you."
Riki watches your face for a second, and when he sees the true genuineness and want in your eyes, he lets himself have it. He dips down to your height, capturing your lips in a kiss again, before fully pulling the zipper down to the small of your back. With barely any effort, the dress slides off your body and pools around your feet on the floor.
Too busy getting drunk on his plump lips, you don’t even notice his hands roaming over your skin, his fingertips memorizing the arch of your spine, before gliding up to the curve of your ribcage. You don’t notice how close he really is until his fingers find the underside part of your breasts. You pull away with a gasp, seeing him smile coyly when you finally realize you’re naked in front of him, and how he’s massaging your mounds in his hands.
He lets his thumbs brush your hardened nipples, watching your face scrunch and melt with fluster. He holds you so well, heat rushing all over your skin with the way he studies your body, eyes carefully taking in every detail about you. He continues stroking your nipples and massaging your breasts when he bends down again, kissing the corner of your lips before trailing over to your jaw. He presses open mouthed kisses on your pulse next, sucking and biting to leave love bites there.
You moan, all breathy and heavy, and his cock twitches in his sweats. For a man that’s been so cautious with you, he can’t help but fight the urge to pound into you recklessly right now.
“On the bed,” he prompts softly, taking a step forward.
You obey with no fight, pathetically stepping backward until you sit back on the soft mattress. You adjust a little to get on your knees, eyes finding his through your lashes again. He’s looking at you with half-open lids, hand already reaching up to the back of your head, fingers tangling with your hair. He likes you like this, on your knees and your face so fucking close to his bulge, he can practically see it.
And because he has been so kind to you, you want to recompense for all of it. Your fingers hook at the hem of his sweatpants, keeping your gaze steady on his face to watch the way he reacts when he realizes what you’re about to do. You drag his pants down, enough for it to slip down his legs.
His cock bulges in his briefs, begging to be set free. You cup it gently and he lets out a low moan, deeper than his usual, and when you look up, he’s just watching you. You lean in, only to lick a stripe from the bottom to top — his grip on your hair tightens, and you feel him pull you closer. Since you both don’t hold any godly kind of willpower, you waste no time lowering the fabric.
Riki’s stupidly long cock springs forward once you remove his briefs, and everything about it just makes sense. It isn’t excessively thick in girth, but it’s length makes you wonder if it can even fit at all. It’s pale at the base and turns pink towards the tip, the slit lathered with pre all over the head, all for you.
You bite your lip, not being able to help the thrilled grin on your face, eyes bright at the sight of it. He clears his throat, caressing the back of your head gently. “You good?”
You snicker, reaching up to wrap your hand around the base. He chokes out a gasp, stilling completely yet his hips buck forward. He watches you handle him so delicately, even the way you start pumping his dick, watching the way pre-cum leaks out the tip. You lean forward, tongue flat against the head, tasting him.
“O-oh, s-shit —” his breathing becomes heavy, arm flexing involuntarily as he keeps rubbing the back of your head.
You giggle, tilting your head a little to press soft pecks all over his length. “Watch me, sweet boy. Okay?”
You’re a fucking tease. That’s all he manages to come up with before his brain completely blanks out when you tilt forward and let your mouth close around the head of his dick. You start to suckle on it, tongue playing with the slit a little. Then you push forward, enough the tip touches the back of your throat and your cheeks hollow around his length.
And he’s still too fucking long.
You start choking a little, tears touching your waterline. You stroke the part you can’t reach, and he can’t help but smirk arrogantly.
Heavy breaths turns into deep groans, trying to keep his sounds to himself but the way you look as your head bobs on his dick, practically choking as you suck on it, and his hand flexing a tight grip on your hair — this has got to be better than any fucking narcotic ever. He bets morphine won’t ever feel this good. “Y-you’re fucking sublime, baby,”
You retract your mouth, going back to suckle on the tip, before taking him all back down your throat. His hips jerk forward, you can tell just how gentle he’s trying to be even when he’s losing all control.
And it’s too good, because twenty years of chastity has started to reach him faster than the way you rub him. He feels his abdomen tighten, and fuck does his balls feel tense. So as any illogical, preposterous, unsound idiot ever, he pulls you away from his cock. He holds you by your hair, slowing you down as you stare up at him, eyes wide and confused, lips wet from your saliva and his fluids.
“What the fuck?” you mutter, catching your breaths.
Riki licks his bottom lip, and you can see every restraint holding him back from breaking you. The tips of his ears are red, and his eyes, once so tender and meticulous, looks down at you like he just can’t wait to fuck you senseless. They’re sharper than they ever have been, and once since this night began, you’re scared.
“Easy,” he drawls, hand withdrawing from you completely. He takes a step back, just enough to admire the way you look, panting and on your knees, breasts exposed and perky. Then with a small smirk, he pinches the edge of his hoodie. “You always this impatient?”
He slides the hoodie over his arms, the cloth revealing flesh that practically glow from your vanity lights. His chest and shoulder width is broad and wide, flat in that boyish way you love, expanding to the chiseled arms. You can feel yourself salivating at the muscles, at his taut abs, delicate grooves that trace down to a sharp v-line. Even his obliques and traps are so defined.
“Get on your back.” he rasps, and you don’t let yourself react before lying down, head against your soft pillows. He kneels in between your legs, eyes trailing over your body. He hooks his fingers over the elastic of your panties, just before he slowly pulls them off you, slow enough to make you embarrassed.
“Riki,” you murmur sheepishly, but he ignores you, keeping his eyes narrowed to the way your cunt glistens, your own fluids leaking out of you. She’s perfect, and his already frustrated cock twitches.
Blonde hair sticks to his forehead, and his eyes are dark when your gaze meets again. He hovers over you, caging you against the bed before he leans in, kissing you again. Your lips part for him, breaths mingling, getting hot and heavy as his hand finds your ass. He squeezes the fat there, fingers digging into your skin. “You’re making it hard to think, pretty girl.”
You manage a giggle, though it quickly turns to soft moans when he kisses your jaw and presses his cock against your cunt.
“Riki, please,” you can see how swollen his cock has gotten.
“I don’t know if I can be gentle,” he breathes, his arms tensing as he keeps himself up. He strokes himself a bit, just before he aligns the tip with your aching hole.
Your brain has gone hazy, not being able to process anything other than the way he kisses your neck when the head of his cock pushes through your folds, and immediately your arms come to his back, nails digging into his muscles. He tenses too, giving a sharp exhale when his length slides past the tight muscle and rubs against your gummy walls.
“Fuck,” he groans, burying his face against your neck while your teeth bite down your bottom lip. “G-god, that’s so good,”
His hips closes against your pelvis, while his tip brushes against your cervix so good he’s pretty sure you’re sucking him in. And you feel stuffed, more than you ever have been, by Riki’s long cock. “Good fucking pussy, shit —”
Your legs are open wide for him, pressing flat against the mattress. And that’s enough for him, just to see you so spread beneath him, cunt squeezing him so tight; enough for him to pull back and watch the way your fluids wrap slick around his cock. Your hips wiggle for him, and that’s all he takes before slamming his hips back into you.
Riki’s jaw hangs open, a low moan gushing out him, strained and heavy into your ears.
“R-Riki — f-f-fuck —”
The sounds of squelching pussy and skin slapping echoes throughout your entire room, walls so tight around his cock as you gasp. The pace is set already, quick and fucking drilling into you even though you’ve known him for his care and caution — yet he pounds into you like he doesn’t give a fuck about anything but his pleasure.
“S-s-so good — ugh, Riki — fuck,” you scratch his back muscles, tensing underneath your nails. His pelvis and abs are tight, slamming himself so hard against your cunt like he can’t keep himself apart from you.
He continues groaning, his eyebrows furrowed, eyes half-lidded watching you, completely fucked out while he admires the way your tits bounce every time he rocks his dick deep into your cunt. His lips part to moan your name, and you love how he almost whimpers when you squeeze around him.
Then he stills, though only fast enough before he slides an arm beneath your waist and gathers you closer, like he’s scooping you into him without fully lifting you.
“W-what are you —”
“On your stomach.”
You can only blink and nod, before turning around, suddenly feeling empty when his dick slips from inside you. You settle on your hands and knees, then lie on your chest, face pressed to the soft pillow. “Fuck, my good girl.”
You can’t see him anymore, and you’re not sure with how you feel about it — not until you feel his warm body press against your back, his chest hovering slightly over you. He presses a hand on the back of your thigh, gently adjusting your knee higher, the position immediately spreading your folds more than you would have thought.
“Lift your hips for me, baby,” he breathes, voice low and strained.
You obey, pussy clenching around nothing when he whispers quiet praises as your ass perks up and your folds glisten for him again, slick oozing out from you. You get on your hands a little, just enough to lift yourself and look over your shoulder. Without much of a warning, he pushes his cock back deep inside you again, walls welcoming him with a dirty squelch, your breath catches, then escapes in a quiet gasp.
“There, just like that —” Riki moans, his v-line pressed tight against your ass.
Then he continues, retracting his hips only to slap back inside you. The new positions doing fucking wonders to you, stretching you a whole lot more, his dick fucking you so raw that you can’t help the screams you let out. He presses his hands against your waist, fingers ingrained to lift your ass up and pound into you right after, grip so tight it’s already bruising.
You fuck yourself against him too, slapping back against his hips, cock choking in your tight walls. His eyes are almost rolling back, if not for how obsessed he is watching your ass shake and tits bounce every sloppy stroke, his hand sliding under you to grope your mound. He fondles with it, pinching your nipple and loving the weight of it against his palm.
Sweat’s getting hot and the air’s smells too much of sex, he can feel it when his balls clench and how desperate he’s starting to get.
You look over your shoulder and he meets you halfway, leaning over to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. It’s full of saliva and it’s warm, messy in a way that tells how close you both are.
Then with so little strength (can’t compare to Riki Nishimura, really), your weight falls back to the pillow, face and chest pressed against the softness while your ass stays up. If not for his large hands keeping you up and still, you would’ve fallen over completely.
Your abdomen clenches and pressure builds in there, and he continues rutting into you while you become a puddle of sweat and moans. “R-right there — fuck, Riki — !”
“I-I’m gonna fucking cum, s-shit – I’ll blow a fucking load in you —” his hips drive into your pussy with a new kind of intensity, faster and deeper somehow, his tip hitting your cervix that has you throbbing around him.
“Cum all over me, baby, please —” he whines, face pressed against your shoulder.
You feel hot spurts of him fill you the same time your cunt clenches around him one final time, legs twitching while his hips come to a stutter. Cum settles in your hole, warm and full and sticky and practically seeping out of you. He collapses on top of you, unconsciously maybe, his heavier weight pressing over your body.
Your vision goes white for a bit, then it comes back, only for you to see hair all over your face, stuck with sweat and saliva. He’s still on top of you, but you can feel him carry himself a little, making sure not to crush you right after cumming in you.
Quiet beats stretch out the moment, and you don’t even notice his arm tucking underneath you to massage your tit, a tired laugh leaving your mouth when you do. When you both muster enough strength, he straightens just enough to lift himself off of you, while you manage to get on your hands. By the time you look over your shoulder, he’s already leaning in, his mouth finding yours again, a hand still fondling with your breast.
“Riki,” a small sheepish smile curves on your lips, all while he presses soft pecks against your mouth and jaw.
“Hm?” he hums, tired and spent, clearly having nothing else to do but to kiss you. His breaths are still shallow, eyelids heavy before shutting completely.
You giggle, putting your hand over his on your breast. “Get off me,” you say with a playful grin. “You’re so heavy!”
WIth a quiet groan, he listens. He slides out of you, unplugging you to let your fluids out. Then he lies down, and he hasn’t realized how strained his muscles are until he sinks into the softness of your bed. He relaxes inevitably, while you stay up just to admire him for a bit.
Riki Nishimura is never going to be insecure about his looks, but the way you stare at him with dilated pupils that match his, especially post-sex, he can’t help but grow a bit bashful.
He huffs out a laugh, one hand reaching out to squeeze your waist because you feel so far. "So do you have a no-cuddle policy, or," he murmurs.
You laugh before you can stop yourself because he's so stupidly funny for someone trying to sound serious. Instead of answering, you shake your head and lean more of your weight against one hand, the other resting against his chest as your fingers trace lazy, thoughtless shapes.
He watches you do it for a second, his expression going quiet in that way that makes your stomach turn. Then you glance up at him. "Can you roll one for me?"
He sighs so heavily it almost sounds personal. Before you can even react, his arm hooks around your waist and pulls you down against his chest, firm and immediate, like the idea alone offended him. Your hand lands against his abs to catch yourself, your cheek nearly brushing his shoulder as he keeps you there.
“Throw that shit away,” he says, voice low near your ear. “I swear to God.”
You blink, caught against him. “What?” His arm stays around you, warm and unmoving. “Why?”
Riki looks at you with half-lidded eyes, sleepy and a little strained, like even answering takes effort. “Because,” he murmurs, his grip softening at your waist, “after tonight, I think I found something better.”
Your jaw actually falls open. For one second, all you can do is stare at him, because there’s no way Riki Nishimura just said that to you while looking half-asleep and impossibly calm, like he didn’t just say something that made your entire stomach turn over and tighten all over again.
Then you smack his chest lightly. “Riki.”
He chuckles, low and tired, the sound vibrating against your palm. His arm stays around your waist, keeping you close even when you try to lean back enough to glare at him properly.
“What?” he murmurs, eyes barely opening more. “Use my dick instead, I won’t get mad.”
You smack his chest harder, earning a yelp from him. “Riki!”
He laughs under his breath, but before you can pull your hand back, his fingers wrap around your wrist. His eyes open a little more as he looks at you, still tired, still amused, and then he tugs you.
You land over him, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips as his arm settles around your waist to steady you. For a second, neither of you moves. Your hand stays pressed to his chest, his heartbeat is faster than he's pretending. "Careful," he murmurs, like he wasn't the one who pulled you.
"You're so annoying," you whisper again, but it comes out softer this time, a quiet breath as you lean down to him. You're close enough now that your noses brush, close enough to feel his smile fade against your mouth.
Riki's gaze drops to your lips, then back to your eyes. Your fingers stay flat against the broad hardness of his chest while his hand stays warm at your waist, slowly smoothing over the curve of your ass.
“Ride me?” he whispers against your lips.
You sigh, rolling your eyes while your mouth curves to a grin, back straightening. You act like you think about it, only for your exposed cunt to start grinding against his cock — which, obviously, because he is a very simple man, erects again.
A simple man such as he, all he knows is that he is yours.
slow, sleepy makeout sesh with heeseung where you’re both feeling subby and horny. i just know his introverted self is exhausteddd after a day of promotions & what better way to wind down than having you in his bed?
it starts off with grinding against each other in a gentle, unrushed rhythm. you on his lap while he kisses you like a starved man, hips bucking to meet your slow grinds.
that lasts for a pretty good while before it eventually evolves into mutual masturbation; your hand sliding down to feel him through his pjs. it takes a bit of energy for him to pull back and look at you, but you’re just so pretty that he needs to see you! you grasp him gently before working him through the thin fabric of his clothes, enjoying the way a small wet spot forms on his pants. his breaths grow labored, watching you through glossy, pleading eyes.
he shakily moves to cup your pussy through your shorts, whimpering at the feel of the damp fabric. you’re quick to grind against the palm of his hand, growing desperate as your own hand fumbles under his waistband. heeseung whines when your thumb brushes his tip, smearing small beads of pre-cum over his cock. he’s practically fucking your hand now, hugging you close and moaning in your ear as his fingers tease your clit.
seeing him like this has you soaked, so it’s no surprise when his fingers slip into you with ease. and all the foreplay has you soo worked up :( it doesn’t take him long to find that one spot, abusing your spongy cunt while you whimper and twitch on his lap.
your orgasm hits you hard and you bite down on his shoulder, definitely harder than you mean to, but the way he immediately spills in your hand with a loud groan leaves you wanting more. you continue to work yourselves towards overstimulation, eyes brimming with borderline tears at the sweet pleasure. you know you should stop but it just feels so good, you don’t think you could even if you tried.
husband!jay who, for a very long time, had been the epitome of restraint. Your marriage began with the discreet, practical formality of a courthouse ceremony — a necessity, considering his schedule was an unforgiving, suffocating machine of back-to-back meetings and global acquisitions. He was there, present, but always a man committed to his work. And yet, the day your wedding celebration finally happened and the honeymoon arrived, coinciding with his first real stretch of vacation in years, the man you thought you knew simply vanished, replaced by something far more primitive and, frankly, exhausting in the most wonderful way possible.
He turned into a complete, shameless koala. It wasn’t enough for him to just be near you; he seemed to have developed a physical allergy to any space between the two of you. In Paris — the city you’d chosen for your honeymoon — it only got worse. Jay insisted on holding your hand at all times, as if the entire city needed to know you were his. He held onto you as you walked through elegant streets, stopped in the middle of the sidewalk just to fix your scarf and use the excuse to steal a kiss, tugged you closer by the waist whenever you paused in front of a shop window or some café too pretty to resist, and kept an arm around your shoulders for nearly the entire walk back to the hotel. Inside bookstores, in restaurants, while waiting in line at a pâtisserie, it didn’t matter, Jay always found a way to touch you. A kiss to your temple while you picked dessert, his fingers absentmindedly stroking your palm under the table, his face buried in your neck the second the elevator doors slid shut. The man who once barely had time to breathe now seemed determined to make up for every second of distance that had built up between you, and he did it by becoming absurdly, scandalously affectionate.
But it was behind closed doors that the transformation became truly overwhelming.
The man who used to be so disciplined, so careful with his energy, suddenly seemed to have an infinite, bottomless reservoir of desire. He didn’t just want to love you; he wanted to consume you. Every night, the moment the lights went out, the “magnate” Jay dissolved into a man driven by one singular, frantic purpose. He pulled you into bed with hungry intent, spending hours exploring every inch of your skin, his mouth pressing warm, wet kisses from your collarbone all the way down to your thighs, clearly trying to memorize the texture of your body better than you knew it yourself.
And then there was the way he always came undone always deep, intense, with a primal force that left you breathless and trembling. It was as if, after years of being a man of logic and spreadsheets, he had finally decided to let instinct take the wheel. It got to a point where you genuinely started wondering whether a human being was capable of going into some kind of permanent rut. You’d catch yourself staring at the ceiling in those quiet moments after he finally fell asleep, sprawled over you like a heavy, satisfied predator, thinking about the sheer physical effort he put into every single encounter.It only made the questions from those nosy aunts at family dinners feel even more absurd. Every time one of them leaned in with that curious look and asked, “So, when are we going to see a baby with his face running around?” you could feel heat creeping up your neck. You’d glance at your husband, sitting among the elders with the impeccable posture of a respectable, successful husband, and have to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing or maybe moaning. While they theorized about “bad timing” or “planning,” you’d secretly be thinking about the brutal, relentless biological warfare Jay had been waging against your uterus for the past two weeks. Really, it wasn’t for lack of trying. It was almost funny to imagine your aunts’ reaction if you actually decided to tell the truth: “If only you knew the amount of effort he puts into making that happen every single night!”
husband!jay who is an actual menace when it comes to physical proximity in public. Of course, he’s not stupid enough to be overt about it, but you can still feel the subtle drag of his thumb tracing slow circles over your white tights, the touch growing heavier over the milky fabric the second he feels you part your legs just a little. He’ll be discussing market trends with complete seriousness while his grip tightens just enough to let you know exactly what he plans on doing to you the moment you both get in the car.
husband!jay who finally sheds all that polished, statesmanlike composure the second your bedroom door clicks shut. He doesn’t want to be the calm CEO anymore; he wants to be a man completely surrendered to his own urges. After days of deprivation, he has no patience for anything slow or delicate he wants the friction, the weight, the overwhelming sensation of being buried inside you. He’ll strip you with focused, efficient intensity, his eyes dark and heavy behind his glasses before he finally takes them off and tosses them aside like they’re just another useless corporate accessory, all so he can focus on you and only you, his breathing breaking into rough, guttural grunts as he whispers the filthiest things against your ear.
husband!jay who doesn’t care about gentleness or whether you still look “pretty.” In fact, what revives him after a draining day at the company is seeing you ruined in his bed, hair tangled from his rough tugging and that dazed, well-sated look written all over your face.
husband!jay who prefers to dominate you the old-fashioned way, favoring the raw connection of skin against skin, no distractions, no games, no toys. To him, those are nothing but excuses for weak men who can’t measure up on their own and need a third party to satisfy their wives. Please, how humiliating would it be for Jay Park to let his wife come from nothing but a cheap vibrator? He’d rather pin your wrists above your head, pressing your body into the sheets beneath the heavier, harder weight of his own until you can feel every solid inch of him. There’s no restraint; he drives into you with deep, rhythmic thrusts, loving the sound his firm pelvis makes when it collides with the softness of your ass. He wants to hear you moan his name, hear your voice crack when he keeps hitting that perfect, sensitive spot over and over again.
husband!jay who comes home and can’t even pretend to hold himself back, losing every ounce of polish and manners he spent his life learning; his senses narrow into those of a hungry, slightly caveman-like man. He hikes up your skirt, his large, calloused hands gripping your thighs so firmly they’ll leave faint marks by morning. Taking you from behind while you’re washing dishes becomes the sole objective, the hard ridge of his cock straining against his slacks and pressing into your ass, grinding there like some dog in heat. He doesn’t care about looking “elegant,” not when he’d been fantasizing about this exact moment for hours in the cold emptiness of his office. Eventually, the dishes slip from your soapy hands, forcing you to brace yourself against the cold ceramic of the sink when his pace starts growing harsher.
husband!jay who comes home after a fourteen-hour conference looking absolutely exhausted, yet still ridiculously handsome with his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up. He doesn’t want some grand romantic display; he just wants to bury his face in your warm, soft breasts. Is that really too much to ask?
husband!jay who is an exceptional provider in the most practical, realistic sense of the word. He doesn’t buy you extravagant jewelry just to show off; he’s the kind of man who notices when you casually mention a skincare serum while making the bed, or a snack you liked that grocery stores don’t even sell anymore. In the blink of an eye — or after a few minutes spent negotiating with suppliers from each brand — everything would be stocked in the pantry before you even had time to realize you were craving it.
husband!jay who, every time he leans in to smother your moans with his wet, firm kisses, carries a faint trace of his office life on his breath. It’s the taste of the lozenges he chews to stay alert through long meetings, or the mint gum he uses because he once saw online that chewing it makes his jawline look even sharper. It’s such a strange, intoxicating contrast the feeling of his hot, heavy tongue sliding against yours, always paired with that artificial coolness.
husband!jay who, despite the chaos and pressure of his packed schedule, turns into a complete whiner the moment the morning sun hits the bedroom. When you try to move, making excuses about needing to get up to make coffee or start your day so he doesn’t end up late, he answers with a low, irritated groan that vibrates deep in his chest. “I’m the boss, remember? I can buy coffee on the way… or you can just bring me some later.” And while you try to pull away, his hand starts wandering with slow, lazy intent, gliding from your waist down to the waistband of your pajama pants. The sensation is devastating in the best possible way; the solid, firm weight of his hand is warm, but as his fingers brush your skin, the smooth, cold metal of his wedding band creates a sharp, vivid contrast against the heat of his morning touch. It’s such an intimate, comforting feeling that your breath catches, wiping out any motivation you had to be productive. He feels your body go still and lets out a low, satisfied murmur of victory, already knowing you won’t be seeing a coffee machine anytime soon.
Summary: Your relationship with Jungwon comes in hotel rooms and behind closed doors, where it's just the two of you who love each other with much tenderness. While in the outside world, the two of you are destined to be rivals due to your family's long-term rivalry when it comes to being the top corporation in your country. But when secrets are starting to spill, and meet-ups are getting harder to do so; you and Jungwon must face the world and prove that what you two have is real.
Sixth installment of Big reputations series.
✰ Song inspirations: Dancing with our hands tied by Taylor swift, Born to die by Lana del rey, Out of the woods by Taylor swift
✰ Word count: 19.6k
✰ Tags: CEO au, forced rivals au, secret relationships, established relationships, aged-up characters (they’re in their mid-twenties,) kinda star-crossed lovers, ceo! Yang jungwon, ceo! Reader, fluff, angst, misunderstandings, reader has some deep trust issues, they’re just so madly, deeply in love with each other, betrayal, family drama, minor violence somewhere, scandals. Mentions of kpop idols.
✰ CW: plot with porn, p in v sex, softdom! Jungwon, riding, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (lol no pls), cumming inside, praise, kinda public sex (restroom), fingering, petnames. I might miss a lot of tags lol but this is just pure filth lol idk shitty smut ig???
✰ Asul's note: we’re down to the second to the last story of the series!!! I hope you’d enjoy this one because I had a hard time writing this one. Also eyeballed everything so inaccuracies ahead, don't ask if i did research, i'm just here for the relationship with conflict trope lol. not proofread by the way.
Yang Jungwon entered the hotel lobby as if he owned the place.
He had his head held high while his posture stood proud. Everyone’s eyes were on him, every single one inside the lobby was awed by his visuals and presence but Jungwon remained unbothered. He approached the receptionist casually before giving her a smile — flirty and dimpled that the receptionist fawned immediately.
“Good afternoon Mr. Yang, the suite’s waiting for you, Mr. Kim had informed me about your last-minute booking, and I assure you that you’d get your usual room,” she said brightly before handing the keycard to Jungwon as she fluttered her eyelashes.
“Thank you so much, Ms. Ahn, it’s nice to see you here,” Jungwon said with a wink, making the woman giggle shyly.
“You’re too kind, enjoy your stay Mr. Yang,” with that, Jungwon gave her a wave one last time before going towards the elevator hall.
The man pressed the button and patiently waited for the elevator to go down. The hall wasn’t crowded compared to the lobby. There were a few people around but it was enough for Jungwon to be discreet, even clearing his throat as he brushed the stray dust on his coat.
Suddenly, his ears caught the gentle footsteps approaching him. That’s when he felt his heart stopping and breath hitching. Jungwon glanced at his watch as if he was looking at his watch, pretending that he’s not bothered by the person who stood beside him.
“Oh, Mr. Yang, it's a pleasure to see you here,” but all his act melted the moment he heard your voice. His smile formed unknowingly as Jungwon could feel his cheeks heating up and heart racing rapidly before he turned to his left casually with a gentle smile.
As his eyes met yours, his smile became wider along with his dimples that turned deep. Too lovestruck to notice all this sudden shift. “Ms. l/n, it’s nice to see you too. Here for a meeting?”
Your lips pursed before a small chuckle left your lips, “yes, apparently. A very important person I must say. How about you?” you lied casually as you fiddle the keycard around your hands.
“Same here with me.” And just in time, the elevator rang and opened. Both you and Jungwon entered the elevator without a word. Then, the door closed in an instant and you pressed the highest floor button.
Jungwon didn’t say anything. He turned his head towards you who cleared her throat before looking in the opposite direction while the elevator slowly went up. The silence was tense, quiet yet suffocating. Your heart was pounding loudly as you could feel Jungwon’s eyes never leaving you. You closed your eyes, attempting to relax when you felt someone standing too close on your side.
“You’re too near, Mr. Yang,” you muttered under your breath.
“It’s just the two of us here, Ms. l/n,” a gasp escaped your lips when you felt his hands trailing on your waist until it reached the curve of your butt, giving it a squeeze and two.
“Pervert,” you mumbled before slapping his hands away, making Jungwon laugh before he leaned against the wall.
“This elevator’s too slow,” Jungwon said, eyeing the screen where every second, the elevator’s slowly going up.
“You’re an impatient man.”
“Of course I am,” and before you could react, Jungwon had pushed against the wall, trapping you in between his arms before he leaned on for a kiss.
You kissed him back without any thoughts, giggling against his lips like it’s the most natural thing you could do. His soft, lustrous lips tasted like peach, sweet and addictive that you couldn’t help but to bite his lower lips, receiving a groan from him who despite that, smirked at your move.
The elevator suddenly felt hotter as you two continued making out recklessly, not caring about the cameras recording your scandalous act as you two seemed to be in your own world until the ride stopped and Jungwon broke away from the kiss.
“We’re here,” he whispered before he pulled you out of the elevator. You didn’t complain anymore but instead, the smile on your lips became wider, letting your lover lead the way to his hotel room.
As soon as the doors have locked and it’s just the two of you inside, Jungwon’s lips crashed onto yours once again — eager and hungry before he started to undress himself, without breaking the kiss.
You did the same with yours. Unbuttoning your blouse with haste, removing your ponytail and letting your hair fall down before you held onto Jungwon’s shoulders, never leaving his mouth as both clothes started to fall to the floor.
“I miss you,” Jungwon said in between, making you stop and chuckle as you stared at him fondly.
“We saw each other last week,” you pointed out before a small yelp escaped your lips when Jungwon carried you towards the huge, soft bed of the suite.
Placing you down gently, your heart was filled with anticipation as your lover crawled over you. His lips were stained with your lipstick, while his hair was all over the place as he stared at you like a predator — far from the sophisticated and well-respected Yang Jungwon, currently chief executive officer of the Eden group of companies.
That same goes to you who’s left with nothing but her undergarments, hair sprawled at the soft, cotton duvet as your eyes were only gazing on the person on top of you.
“Well, it couldn’t help when I miss you, so fucking much,” Jungwon admitted as his hands traveled at the soft plush of your stomach downwards the waistband of your stockings and panties, making him smirk.
“You’re going to ruin me, aren’t you?” you asked, almost breathless yet adrenaline rushed as you could feel Jungwon fidget with the tight cloth on your thighs.
“You know me damn well, sweetheart,” Jungwon answered teasingly before he tore your stockings using his bare hands.
A small moan escaped your lips as Jungwon started planting kisses on your exposed skin, slow and careful as his lips worshipped your thighs until he stopped in front of your cunt. He glanced at you for a second and immediately, you nodded, giving him the signal to push your panties aside and leave you bare in front of him.
The last thing you heard was a curse coming out of Jungwon’s lips before he started ruining you, making you melt under his touch as he tasted every skin and slick on your wet cunt. The room was filled with nothing but the sultry moans escaping on your lips while Jungwon continued to devour your pussy like it was his last meal on earth.
“Fuck — Jungwon,” you mewled, grabbing a fistful of his hair while Jungwon focused on your clit, sucking the bud before inserting a finger inside your cunt. The sudden sensation felt overwhelming that your back arched naturally simultaneously moaning your lover’s name out loud.
“Fuck, say my name again,” Jungwon ordered and you complied. You screamed his name loud and clear. Repeating it numerous times like a mantra, knowing damn well that the walls of the suite were thick and soundproof that only you and Jungwon could hear how he makes you writhe under his tongue.
Because only you and Jungwon could know what’s happening inside the suite. It’s only the two of you who know the bliss of your skins making contact with each other, filled with warmth, and pleasure that’s too addictive yet forbidden.
Your relationship with Jungwon has always been like this — and it should stay this way. In hotel rooms and hushed conversations. Secret, hidden, wherein it’s just the two of you and no one should know. Of course, no one should know because you two are destined to be enemies in the first place.
Call yourselves modern-day Romeo and Juliet, but your families have had a constant rivalry ever since both companies were established. Everything comes down to money, connections, and power — and most of all, pride. It became a competition turned into rivalry. It wasn’t just a friendly rivalry, it involved political movement, scandals, and even dirty schemes. This on-going dispute has been passed down by generations until it reaches you and Jungwon.
Unlike in Shakespeare's play, you and Jungwon weren’t young and stupid when you both unknowingly fell in love with each other. The love story began in a simple way — college. It always feels nostalgic to think about it. You and Jungwon were classmates in a lot of course subjects given that both of you have the same college program.
Then, it came — getting assigned together for a project. It seemed like destiny was making a way for you two to talk to each other.
You two had your walls high at first but as time passed-by, you realised that the only son of the Yang family wasn’t a cocky bastard who has narcissistic tendencies, and Jungwon realized that the Kingsmark heiress wasn’t a spoiled brat who’s a perfectionist that it’s sickening. First impressions got out of the way and friendship bloomed from there.
But somewhere in your friendship, something grew deeper — something forbidden yet, irresistible. It made you scared at first, knowing that you fell for an enemy out of all the people you could love. Still, despite your fear, you couldn’t ignore it especially when it’s Jungwon who could only make you feel that way.
That’s why you confessed. You took the risk to tell your feelings to your supposed mortal enemy and to your luck, Jungwon reciprocated your love naturally. Just like you, Jungwon, unknowingly fell for you too. He didn’t expect it nor tried to deny it. For the man, it just happened, and he couldn’t do anything about it except to accept it.
Love sparked that day and ever since then, you risk your life just to meet up with Jungwon — and so did he.
Late-night sneak-outs, wearing covers while out on a date, the hotel room meetups, and hushed conversations during public events. You didn’t hate the setup, you just got used to it, knowing that it’s impossible for you and Jungwon to be together in public.
You lost track of how long your relationship with Jungwon has been going on. All you know was that it has become a part of your routine to meet him, one way or another, and as long as Jungwon’s not giving up on you, you’re not going to give up on him either.
As cliche as it may sound, no one knows you better than Jungwon. He had memorized every inch of you, knew your deepest secrets and fears that even your family doesn’t have a single clue about. He was your secret, and yet, it never felt like just a secret.
Jungwon — you may consider him as your home too.
Because the moment he kissed you, soft and gentle, held you careful and light like you were made of porcelain glass, you’re convinced that no one could ever care and love you like he would.
“You’re with me?” Jungwon asked, seeing you quiet and in daze after your love making. Both naked under the sheets, the time seemed to have passed by so quickly that it’s already late at night. You’ve lost track of the amount of times you two did it, and yet, the euphoric feeling still lingered on your body.
“Just tired,” you answered and you heard Jungwon’s soft chuckle before he kissed your forehead.
“Did I tire you out?”
You chuckled at his question, “You’re a monster in bed, Yang Jungwon.”
“Couldn’t help it when it’s you who I am fucking good.” he teased back.
An exchange of laughter escaped both of you before you pulled him close to you. Jungwon hovered over you as your lips locked into each other once again, deep, senseless as you wrapped your arms around his neck.
“Again?” he whispered and that made you let out a sigh in relief.
“Again,” you answered with a smile before you pushed him down to the mattress and straddled against his lap.
“Thought I tired you out?” he teased before smacking your bare ass. You flinched at the pain and yet the impact only made your core wetter than as at the same time, you could feel Jungwon’s semi-hard cock against your cunt.
“I thought so too,” you said breathless as you started grinding against his cock, making it hard and wet with your slick. Breathy moans started escaping your lips due to the sensation, rocking your body harder and more eager.
Jungwon watched as you lifted your hips before aligning your entrance on the fat head of his cock. Sucking your breath in, you slowly sink down, feeling your cunt getting stretched wide by just the sheer size of Jungwon’s cock.
Sitting all the way down, you could feel your pussy full to the end. Taking deep breaths, your hands landed on Jungwon’s stomach for balance, moving your hips closely while your lover watched you shift on his lap, amused at how you didn’t hurry yourself immediately but instead, find time to adjust at his size, moving slow rolls and grinds around his cock.
“Go on baby, you’re doing good,” Jungwon said as his hands traveled on your waist, guiding you to roll around his cock. His eyes never left yours who had her head thrown back, breathy whines leaving your lips as you started moving faster.
From your rolls and grinds, you lifted your hips and started bouncing on his cock. Finding your pace, you move more hastily and sloppily as you could hear the wet slap on your skin against Jungwon’s hips.
It urged you more to sink into him deeper, wanton moans started escaping your lips as you bounced on his cock harder. It didn’t help that your lover’s hold on you tightened, even helping you ram yourself on his cock.
“Jungwon —” you called his name again, a more eager plea as your body moved on its own. Fucking yourself on his cock continuously, you find yourself drowsy at the high of the act. It’s becoming too addictive that your body moves on its own. Your pace becomes faster, more rushed as you’re chasing after that high that comes within.
“Keep going baby — fuck! Look at you, is my cock fucking you good?” he teased and you nodded frantically. His words pushed you further, the feeling of his cock splitting your walls apart was too hard to ignore — especially when you could feel something churning inside your stomach.
Jungwon could feel your pussy tightening against the cock, that’s when his grip tightened, fingers digging on your soft skin, making you mewl in pain and yet, you didn’t stop bouncing on his cock like a whore.
“I’m gonna — c-cum —” you said, almost inaudible as your fingers made scratches around his stomach, making his pale skin red as you drowned yourself in the sensation.
“Look at me baby, want to see you fall apart,” your glassy eyes met his sharp ones. A sultry sigh escaped your lips before you leaned downwards Jungwon for a kiss. Your hands got a hold of his face, squeezing it tightly as your lips battled against each other. Messy and wet kisses splattered around your mouth as Jungwon slides his tongue inside yours, earning a choked moan from you.
You broke out of the kiss first, focusing on your hips as your orgasm slowly built up and in a snap, your orgasm came along with pussy clamping around Jungwon. You came in silence, fingernails scratching Jungwon’s chest as your hips continued moving on its own, grinding against your lover’s hard, twitching cock.
That’s when a series of breathy groans started to leave Jungwon’s mouth. You knew that he was on the edge, hence, you started moving further, despite still being sensitive from your first orgasm, you ignored how you spasmed at every grind you made, because all you could think of was to make Jungwon come.
“Baby —”
“You’re near right? Want to see you cum baby — hngh — you look so pretty laying down there for me,” you moaned as your nails pressed further down on his skin. Finding balance on his sturdy chest while you continued your movement.
“Ruin me baby, want to see my girl make me cum —” in a loud, guttural groan, Jungwon reaches his high, snapping his hips upwards as he releases his load inside you, filthy, thick, and hot spurts of cum fill you enough to be satisfied by it. You bite your lips at the warmth, rolling your hips slowly around him as you continue to milk your lover’s cock dry.
The room fell into silence. You find yourself weary before you remove yourself from Jungwon, laying next to him who seemed exhausted from the act.
“Are you hungry?” he asked out of nowhere. Arms wrapped around you as he pulled you close.
You shook your head as answer, eyes closed as you snuggle yourself on his chest, letting your body be dirty and sweaty for a moment as you leaned closer to Jungwon.
“I love you,” Jungwon blurted out of nowhere.
You hummed, opening your eyes to look at him. “I love you too.” you kissed him once again, and Jungwon responded without any thoughts. This time, the kiss was slow, gentle, and just an act of pure love for each other.
But your sweet moment was interrupted by a loud knock on the door — separating you two in a second. The two of you glanced at the direction before a series of knock echoed inside. That’s when Jungwon stood up and grabbed the folded robe nearby.
“It’s just probably Sunoo,” Jungwon said as he clothed himself and went towards the door. He looked at the door viewer for a second and from the tiny gap, Jungwon let out a deep chuckle before opening the door, revealing a man who seemed unpleasant with the situation.
“I need to talk to the two of you,” Sunoo started, arms crossed as he stared at his best friend who seemed to be still in a post-nut clarity.
“Wanna join us?” Jungwon jokingly suggested but he was only met with a disgusted stare by his best friend. Sunoo walked strutted inside the suite, not caring about you who’s nude under the sheet and directly went towards the table, took the champagne bottle, opened it, and without any hesitation, drank straight from the bottle.
“Hey, that’s under my tab,” Jungwon complained but Sunoo continued drinking, almost finishing it halfway before placing it back. You only watched in amusement at their banters while you lay lazily on the bed.
“I really appreciate that you guys have become my patron here but this is getting suspicious,” Sunoo lectured.
Contrary to the belief that no one knows about your secret relationship. There’s only one person who you and Jungwon had trusted with the secret, and that was Kim Sunoo, Jungwon’s childhood friend who happens to own the hotel building that became your escape.
“We’re being discreet,” you stated, but Sunoo wasn’t convinced.
“Right, making out in the elevator is fucking discreet,” Sunoo sarcastically commented. “What I’m trying to say is, auntie’s getting suspicious, Jungwon.”
By the mention of his mother, Jungwon’s teasing smile faded. He turned serious as he stood next to Sunoo, arms crossed.
“What do you mean?”
“She’s here, looking for you,” Sunoo answered, and your eyes widened at his sentence. “She’s currently in my office, I told them you just left, but they aren’t convinced.”
“And your solution was to go here?” Jungwon raised an eyebrow.
“I told her I am meeting an important client and I don’t have time to entertain her questions since I’m too busy managing here,” Sunoo explained. “She was persistent that you were meeting someone here and I am hiding it, which is true though.”
“She wanted to marry me off, that’s why,” Jungwon shared and that was the first that you heard of that problem. Jungwon seemed to be unbothered by it but your worry started to grow.
“I know, she keeps on telling me that one, she wanted you to settle down and not, “whore around,”” Sunoo warned, emphasising the last two words. “If you two value your relationship, then you should be more discreet.”
“We’ve been doing this for years, we’ll be fine,” Jungwon assured but Sunoo wasn’t convinced.
“It’s going to be much harder now Won, especially when you two have taken over your company, the whole world’s watching the two of you.” his best friend advised.
“Thank you Sunoo, we’ll try to be more discreet,” you butted in, giving the man a nod before you gave Jungwon a quick glance and assuring smile. “I think we should lessen our meetups here in Sunoo’s hotel, I don’t want to trouble you too.”
“No, it’s fine y/n, but just be careful, friendly advice,” Sunoo advised before glancing at his watch. “I should be going now, I’ll let you know if auntie has left.”
“Thanks Sunoo,” that was the only thing Jungwon could say, not having the energy to argue with his best friend who’s only looking after him.
Sunoo had left that moment, leaving you two in silence. Jungwon let out a deep sigh as he turned around to check on you.
But you only smiled and patted the bed, gesturing for him to return who did as what you told.
“Does it scare you?” he asked, sitting next to you with his hands open.
Instead of a worried expression, you gave him a smile before intertwining your hands around his. “A little, just scared that my parents might disown me.”
“If they ever do that to you, I’ll be here, don’t worry,” Jungwon assured.
You laughed at his answer, “even if it means losing our fortune and everything?”
“Of course,” he answered without any hesitation. From there, Jungwon gave you a kiss on the temples before he made you rest your head on his shoulders. “Nothing in this world could be more valuable than your love.”
“Our love,” you corrected and your lover only laughed.
“Of course, our love.” he said lightheartedly before kissing your head once again.
It felt right.
It always felt right with Jungwon. Even though it is behind closed doors, everything about your relationship and soft, intimate moments felt right for you. It’s just your intuition and your guts has always been right, that’s why you sweep your worries away.
The whole world might go into a shock when they’ve realized that you had fallen in love with her rival, but that’s your future self’s worry.
As of now, all you wanted was to be in the arms of the man you’ve ever loved — truly, deeply, and madly.
-
On days that you aren’t on your secret rendezvous with Jungwon, you’re stuck in your office, doing what a good CEO does when it comes to leading a decades-long top corporation that probably holds a percentage in your country’s economy.
It wasn’t an easy thing to do at all. You were just starting and you weren’t fully handling everything at all. Your parents are still guiding you, and even though you have the title and everything, most of the company decisions still fully come in power through them.
“You’ve done a great job securing the deal with the Wei tech corp,” your father said proudly.
“It was just nothing dad, just a little convincing and gift worked, I’ve learned from the best after all,” you said with a wink and both your parents were delighted with your reply.
“Oh, my sweet baby, we knew that it was right that you’d inherit this company,” your mother said softly before giving you a hug and kiss. “You’d do better than us, I know that you’d be able to overthrow Eden group in no time.”
At the mention of the said corporation, your stomach felt sour yet your heart skipped a beat.
“Mom, that again? I thought we’re over that,” you complained. Ever since you became head of Kingsmark, that’s the only thing you’ve heard from them — they wanted you to beat Eden group.
“This isn’t over y/n, you know that,” your father sternly said. “Not until we watch them crumble and be ruined, this isn’t over.”
“That’s so childish,” you commented.
“It’s not childish y/n, that’s just how business works, and you should know this alright?” your mother advised. “You’re still young and soft sweetheart, people will take advantage of your kindness. That’s why you should be careful and be wary of those who you call friends.”
Her advice gave nothing but chills on your spine. You looked at your mother who stared at you meaningly. You don’t know what she meant but you slowly nodded, like a good daughter would.
“Of course ma, don’t worry about me,” you convinced, even faking a smile to assure them.
“Great, I heard that Ms. Nakamura will be attending Mr. Han’s project launch, you’re invited there right?” your father asked and you nodded once again.
“Make sure you’d be able to swoon Ms. Nakamura on investing in Kingsmark, they’re a bigshot company in Japan, this will be a huge deal to us. Can I trust you with this one y/n?” he instructed.
“Of course pa, I won’t let you down,” you said with a smile, yet your heart felt heavy at the thought. The immense pressure suddenly washed over you.
You watched as they left your office and the moment the door closed, you felt how your shoulder slouched before leaning against your office chair. Feeling a headache coming right through, you stood up from your seat to get a glass of water when your phone lit up.
sheep calling.
The notification made you smile. Suddenly, your mood wasn’t that bad anymore before you. Grabbed your phone and answered the call without any thoughts.
“I don’t think it is appropriate for you to call me at this hour,” you opened as soon as the call got in line. Your tone filled with teasing that the voice behind the line laughed.
“Is it bad that I am missing you?” Jungwon asked.
“It is bad that you’re missing me during office hours, I thought we aren’t allowed to call during office hours?” you lectured sternly but Jungwon only hummed.
“Well, it’s been what? Two weeks since we last saw each other and to be honest, this is killing me,” he explained, and you smiled softly, knowing that it also kills you that you haven’t seen Jungwon that long.
“What are you trying to imply?” you asked.
“That we should meet this Saturday,” he replied immediately — which meant that he had been planning this for a while.
“I can't, I’ll be at Mr. Han’s project launch, did you get an invitation?”
You noticed how Jungwon became quiet for a moment before answering. “Oh that, I didn’t.”
“That’s a shame, maybe Sunday would work,” you suggested.
“Or maybe I’d pick you up there after the event,” Jungwon teased and though it sounded sweet to be picked-up by your boyfriend, you know that it’s just a scandal waiting to happen.
“You’re being brave and stupid by doing that Jungwon.”
“But you’d like it,” he insisted and your smile became wider.
“Unfortunately, I’d do.”
“I’ll surprise you then,” before you could ask what he meant, the call ended. Your heart dropped at that moment, wondering and curious about what’s up to Jungwon’s sleeve this upcoming Saturday.
-
True to his words, the next time you saw Yang Jungwon was at Mr. Han’s project launch at a reception hall in an expensive hotel outside the city.
The event was a private one. Strictly through invitations, that’s why it wasn’t that crowded when you entered the hall. You wore a vintage navy blue gown along with some sapphire set that you’ve inherited from your grandmother. People were turning heads towards you but you chose to ignore them as you focused on your target.
“Ms. Nakamura, it’s a pleasure to meet you, I am Ms. l/n —”
“From Kingsmark? It’s a shame for me to not know you, and please, call me Kazuha,” she said with a smile. Kazuha was approachable and friendly. Offering you a small chat and talk along with a glass of wine.
Your conversation with her turned almost hours long. You were with her almost the duration of the event and you’ve noticed that she was interested in your future plans and projects which was ideal since her company’s going to play a crucial part as a new supplier and investor. This might turn into a multi-million deal if you had won her heart by the end of the night.
“I am glad you had approached me Ms. l/n or else I’d die here from boredom,” she said jokingly before taking a sip on her wine once again. “I would like to talk to you more but let me go to the restroom first.”
“Of course, do you want more wine?” you offered, and she only gave you a smile before rejecting the offer, insisting that she doesn’t want to get too drunk by the end of the night which you understood.
As Kazuha left for the restroom, you decided to kill time by approaching the nearby grazing table that made your stomach growled. Grabbing a small plate, you started to fill it up with random finger foods when you noticed someone doing the same as you.
“Mr. Yang, it’s a surprise to see you here,” you said, not batting an eye as you focused on the delicacies on the table.
“Last minute plans, turns out my secretary did receive the invitation but forgot to inform me,” he explained casually.
You hummed to his answer, eyes still on the table as you spoke. “Well, it looks like you still came prepared despite the short time.”
“I had to impress you, by the way, nice dress Ms. l/n, it suits you and your proportions,” he whispered to you while he busied himself on taking a few finger food.
“Vintage Yves Saint-Laurent, your suit and tie seemed ravishing,” you commented back.
“Prada, custom-made for me,” he smiled. “But you know what Ms. l/n, I think your vintage yves saint-laurent would look better on the floor of my hotel room.”
“I am unconvinced," you said but a smile on your face curved because of his words.
“Oh come y/n, no one would probably know that we’d disappear,” Jungwon persuaded, tone less formal and more playful. “Just an hour.”
“And why should I come to your hotel room Mr. Yang?” you raised an eyebrow.
But he only smiled at you, gazing at your dress as he shifted it to your eyes. “Because you love me, and you’re getting the best dick of your life.”
That made you scoff. “Such vulgar words for a formal event.”
“I couldn’t be any more vulgar when it comes to you.” he then took a step closer to you. “How about we make it quick? Meet me in the restroom? Fifteen minutes?”
“Now, you’re risking more of exposing our relationship,” you insisted.
“Come on, you like the thrill, don’t you?”
“Unfortunately, I do.”
“There’s a restroom at the back of the corner hallway, I’ll wait for you for ten minutes,” Jungwon instructed, placing down the plate on the side before giving your back a small pat.
With his last words, Jungwon left you there frozen for a moment. You watched as he disappeared into the crowd and left the reception, turning to a small hallway which you assumed was the corner hallway. Your mind went blank as the hold on your plate tightened.
This is a private event. This place is filled with people who know you and Jungwon as rivals. One may notice that you two are gone — or maybe someone might have seen you enter the same hallway Jungwon entered. You don’t even know if someone noticed your conversation earlier.
It’s a risk. That’s your first thought. It was indecent to do something vulgar at a private event and in public too. Those were things you and Jungwon would avoid but it made you wonder why Jungwon would suggest that.
Perhaps he just misses you so much, and unfortunately, you’re a weak woman. Your heart folded immediately as you placed down the plate before checking if someone could notice you, you squeezed yourself in the crowd and found the corner hallway where no one seemed to be paying attention.
Your heart started pounding like crazy. Your conscience’s screaming at you — you should be back in the venue, convincing Ms. Nakamura to be one of the head investors of Kingsmark’s upcoming project. This is unnecessary — but it will be quick. You insisted as you took a deep breath and opened the door. Leaning against the wall was Jungwon, arms crossed with a small smirk on his face.
“You’re here,” he said teasingly. “You really can’t resist me, don’t you —”
“Fifteen minutes Jungwon,” you told him as you entered and locked the door before facing him. “Let’s make this quick.”
He whistled low, looking at you with tease before his arms wrapped around your waist. “Let’s make it thirty.”
Jungwon kissed you hungrily, teeth clashing, tongue battling as he pushed you against the wall. The small thud sound only made him ferocious. He kissed you as if he was dying, eager for your warmth as his lips traveled downwards your jawline, until it reached your neck making you groan in pleasure, throwing your head to give him space while Jungwon continued kissing every skin his mouth could reach.
“No marks please Won, just — wanted to feel you inside me,” you whispered to him who halted to look at you.
“Of course, whatever my baby wants, she’ll get it,” he said quickly with a smile, giving you a short yet sweet kiss on the lips.
Jungwon put you down immediately before he dragged you towards the sink, turning you around and bending you against the marbled surface — that’s when your heart began to ring in anticipation.
“No prep baby?” he asked as he hoisted up your dress, creasing the expensive garment which you didn’t mind. Your mind’s melting because of what’s about to happen. It also didn’t help that Jungwon’s hands trailed on the curve of your ass giving it a light smack making you moan sharply.
“Jungwon please,” you whine, pulling your panties down on your own, revealing your bare self to him. But your lover only chuckled in response, before his hands found their way towards your entrance, making you moan loudly on his touch.
“We got to be quiet, baby, could you do that? We don’t want them to hear how much of a whore you are to your enemy, don’t we?” he whispered to you, voice deep and teasing that you could only nod feverishly as you bite your lips in order to conceal all the obscene noises that might come out of your mouth.
Despite his warning, a sharp, breathy moan escaped your lips the moment Jungwon pushed his slender finger inside you. He could feel your hot, pulsing walls clamping around his finger as your slick slathered around it. He hummed in satisfaction as he began pumping his finger in and out before inserting another one to prep you further.
“Spread your legs wider for me baby, could you?” he asked, and although you’re shaky, you spread your legs further while he hoisted you further up to the sink, almost tiptoeing against the marbled vanity. You couldn’t do anything but to grip onto the surface while Jungwon continued scissoring your insides.
His fingers rapid, abusing your insides that made you shudder and moan helplessly. You clamped your mouth shut as your eyes turned glassy, and yet, a muffled cry escaped your lips when you felt Jungwon’s finger curl at a specific spot. You heard how he chuckled to your reaction as his finger brushed against that spot nonstop. Wanton moans started leaving your lips while the tears started to trail down your eyes.
“W-won — ah! Won, I’m c-close please,” you begged, feeling the tension inside you heating up. Everything’s becoming too sensitive as your pussy starts to clamp tight around Jungwon’s fingers.
“Please what baby?” he asked teasingly.
“Let me cum please?” you whispered
“Oh baby, you’d get to cum,” he said but in a split second, he removed his fingers and you cried at the sudden loss.
That’s when you heard a metal clanking and from the mirror, you see how Jungwon freed his cock, already hard, aching, beading with its precum. You couldn’t help but to gulp at the sight, feeling your core heating and getting more wet at the sight.
“You’d get to cum around my cock, you’d like that?” he asked, humming lightly as he grazed the tip of his cock against your entrance.
“Please, please, Won baby, I want it,” you begged, desperate for release, and your whiny, pitiful tone only made your lover’s dick twitch in excitement before without any warning he inserted himself inside you.
His thick girth ripped your walls open despite the prep earlier. It made you dig your nails deeper on the surface as hot tears kept on streaming down your face. The sensation left you choking while Jungwon continued to push himself inside you until he’s full-sheathed.
“Are you okay?” Jungwon asked as his hands went onto your waist. You nodded slowly before a small whimper left your lips.
“S-so full baby,” you muttered embarrassingly. “Could you move now please? I want to feel you more.”
Jungwon obliged. He pushed you down flat on the surface before his hands gripped on your waist tight. Slowly, he pulled himself out, then without any warning, gave your pussy a quick sharp thrust that made you arch your back naturally. He moved once again, precise yet sharp that slid all the way inside.
The restroom feels hotter and smaller as you and Jungwon became too lost in the obscene act you two are doing. There’s nothing you could hear other than how your skin slapped against each other, drowning the breathy groans Jungwon would release. His grip on your waist became tighter, fingers digging on your sides that you’re sure that it’ll leave a bruise on you.
And if it wasn’t enough, Jungwon’s other hand wrapped around your nape before he pulled you up to face the mirror. Revealing to you your ruined and messed-up self which only made your pussy tighter because you could see from the mirror how Jungwon would fuck you senselessly without any hesitation.
“Look at you pretty, all ruin for me,” he said as he pushed himself deeper, the new angle only made you cry in pleasure. “Eyes on me, will you? I want to see you fall apart for me.”
Jungwon started thrusting inside you again — deeper, relentless, and aching to feel your warmth hugging his cock as every stroke and pounding made you levitate in pleasure.
Your head’s spinning and your mind’s starting to be blank. You started to blabber nonsense as your eyes rolled back in contentment. Jungwon could feel it, how you’re too knocked-out to respond and your pussy’s becoming too tight and warm for his own good that he could only bite his lips as he holds back.
“Baby — still with me?” he groaned. “Want to cum now baby?”
“P-please,” you cried, almost a murmur. The pressure inside you was at its limit. Everything’s too overwhelming to you that the only thing that you wanted was for some release. “Won please, let me c-cum now — please, p-please…”
“Let it out baby, I got you,” he ordered.
You came in a silent mute. Breathe almost out of your lungs as your body shudders at the intensity of the high. Your nails scraped at the surface and your legs lost their strength if it wasn’t for your Jungwon who’s holding you tightly on your waist, still chasing after his own orgasm.
“Hold it in for me baby would you? Wanna come inside you,” Jungwon requested and though your body’s weak and melting from your orgasm, you let your lover use you for his own pleasure.
Jungwon focused on thrusting himself deeper on you. Your warm, wet walls clamped around his cock, as his head nudged on the spot nonstop, making his cock twitch in pleasure. The feeling became too much, making him groan uncontrollably.
In a sudden glimpse, the coil in his stomach snapped and he came without any warning. His body shook as he thrusted one last time, burying his cock deep inside you as his hot, thick cum filled your insides, making you whimper at the feeling.
The two of you stayed at the position, catching one’s breath before Jungwon slowly pulled out. He pulled you away from the sink, strong arms protective around your waist as he observed you, seeing you still drowsy due to the high, he couldn’t help but to caress your face with worry.
“You with me?” he asked and you nodded as a response.
“Words baby, come on,” he repeated and you hummed.
“I’m okay, give me a moment please,” you said and that assured Jungwon, planting a kiss on your lips which you reciprocated immediately.
“Let’s get you clean okay? Just stay there,” he instructed. You didn’t complain further as you watched Jungwon grab a handful of tissues before wetting it.
He wiped your body clean. All the parts that he had left his marks with. You could only hum in satisfaction as your boyfriend made you put on your panties and helped you fix your creased dress.
“You’re okay now?” he asked, rubbing your back in circles which made you relaxed and breathe better.
“Of course, thank you Won,” you answered with a smile.
“Let’s go home now?”
“I can’t Won, Kazuha’s waiting for me,” you told him.
“You mean Ms. Nakamura? Are you planning to ask them to invest in Kingsmark?” Jungwon asked.
You raised an eyebrow, “how’d you know?”
“I didn’t, just a business intuition,” he replied.
“Jungwon — can you keep it a secret?”
“Of course, but really? The Nakamuras? You’ll do better.”
“What do you mean?”
“They aren’t on the top anymore, I heard they’re on the verge of bankruptcy and have tons of loans in the bank — guess it wasn’t a surprise why Kazuha’s here, they need someone to pull them back to their feet.” Jungwon explained and you were left confused. You don’t know about that — nor did your parents. It felt impossible especially when the Nakamura’s has been one of the well-known names in Japan.
“Where did you hear that?” you asked that.
“I have resources,” he simply stated.
“Or are you just lying just to convince me to go home with you?”
“Hey, our families may be enemies, but we’re different,” Jungwon pointed, not sounding offended by your words. “I care for you enough that I don’t want you to make wrong decisions.”
You became quiet for a moment, staring at him who only had nothing but a persuading look on his face. “So you’re saying —”
“That Kazuha’s not worth it,” your lover concluded before he wrapped his arms around your waist. “But you know what’s worth it? Another round of sex.”
You weren’t able to rebut Jungwon’s words when he shut you off with a kiss, and like the fool you were, you kissed him back senselessly.
“Let’s leave?” he whispered to you, and you immediately melted, like a spell casted on you.
“Okay,” you answered without any hesitation. Mind shutting down as all you could think of was Jungwon, Jungwon, and Jungwon.
-
Jungwon was right when he had warned you about Kazuha.
The invitation came a few days later. A simple dinner inside the Yang residence. The man felt something was wrong immediately. Private dinners meant big-time deals, investments — illegal transactions, and worse, marriage proposals.
His parents had set him up to marriage proposals many times that he had lost count how many women he had rejected, and with the mention of Nakamura Kazuha, Jungwon knew what he was facing the moment he entered the living room and was welcomed by his parents.
Jungwon played pretend. Act the act, his persona, the untouchable and intelligent Yang Jungwon who’s currently the CEO of the top corporation in South Korea. The dinner wasn’t just them and Kazuha, there were other guests too. He knew his parents’ move — this meant that he couldn’t do any brass action in front of them.
“Jungwon, meet Miss Nakamura Kazuha,” his mother introduced, smiling at the woman who seemed demure and elegant. She was beautiful, Jungwon thinks, but she’s not you, of course.
Jungwon greeted her formally with a dimpled smile. Kazuha reciprocated it casually as she accepted the man’s hand. “From Nakamura Tech, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise, Mr. Yang.” Kazuha replied, and with their exchange of greetings, Jungwon’s mother seemed satisfied, giving Kazuha a light tap on the shoulder.
“We’ll leave you two be, get to know each other too, excuse us,” the old woman left the two alone that moment, causing a dead air between them, Jungwon knows how to deal with this after his numerous proposal, that’s why he offered Kazuha some drink which the woman happily accepted.
“I must say that it’s a surprise to see you here Ms. Nakamura,” Jungwon opened up. “It’s rare for my parents to invite anyone, if you know what I mean.”
“Your parents have been in long contact with me,” Kazuha shared. “They’re offering me something, that’s why I am here.”
“My hand in marriage, I suppose,” the man concluded without a second doubt.
Kazuha chuckled at his words, “Yes, if I am being honest Mr. Yang.”
“I am afraid I have to reject the proposal Ms. Nakamura, you see, my heart belongs to someone else.”
“Your parents told me, hence the marriage proposal and merging of companies,” that’s when she let out a deep, worried sigh. “I don’t want this too but Mr. Yang, but I am desperate.”
“From what I’ve heard Miss Nakamura, you aren’t reliable in this field, I’ve learned of your incompetencies and mismanagement of your company way before you stepped foot here. I don’t want this partnership to be a charity work, so I am sorry, I couldn’t help you.” Jungwon pointed out.
But Kazuha didn’t feel offended by the man’s words. She nodded as she took a sip on her wine. “Your parents said otherwise, they were willing to help me.”
“Just to tie me down in a marriage? Bullshit, I am currently the head of Eden, so all decisions will be made by me,” Jungwon argued.
“Even so, without the marriage and merging, could you help me, please?” Kazuha asked, almost pleading and desperate and yet, Jungwon remained unfettered by her plea.
“I’ll think about Ms. Nakamura, but for now, would you please excuse me? I need to find my parents,” Kazuha only nodded, letting Jungwon, who felt sour to the idea, go.
Jungwon found his parents talking to some of their friends, his anger hadn't melted down and the itch to confront them was there. But there were other guests inside, that’s why he held it in, remained composed before approaching his parents and asking them for a talk in private.
They ended up in his father’s house office. The door closed with a suffocating tension inside. Jungwon faced his parents who were waiting, not surprised to see their son this furious.
“We are not merging companies with Nakamura tech, and the marriage isn’t going to happen,” Jungwon told his parents. “If you think that this is a way for me to stop seeing y/n, you two are wrong.”
“You are a disgrace Jungwon,” his father said angrily, pointing at his son who didn’t flinch. “I don’t care how long you’ve been seeing her, I want you to stop making any contact with her. Do you want our image to be tarnished by being linked to them?”
“Why? What’s wrong with them? They’re one of the top corporations here, they have a reputable name, and if you guys didn’t hold onto that silly little grudge of yours and just merged with them years ago, we could have total control of the economy,” Jungwon explained.
“I'd rather die than for that to happen,” his father declared.
“Can’t wait,” Jungwon taunted and for that, his father punched him without any hesitation. Jungwon stumbled on the floor, lips bloodied and yet, he laughed mockingly at the situation.
The older man grabbed Jungwon by the collar, lifting him up from the floor as the smile on his lips remained. “Don’t fucking laugh at me Jungwon, you may be the head of the company, but I am still your father.”
“Fuck, I don’t care about that,” Jungwon slurred before chuckle escaped his lips. “I love y/n, and not even you two could stop me.”
Filled with rage, his father threw him back on the floor. The loud thud only made Jungwon laugh louder, cursing under his breath as his father pointed at him angrily.
“Break up with her,” his father instructed. “Do it immediately if you really care about her life.”
That’s when the younger man stopped, glancing at his father as he tried to process everything. “Don’t you ever touch her.”
“She’s an enemy Jungwon, I can dispatch her whenever I like,” the older man reminded. “But you’re still my son, I’ll give you a chance. Do as I told you and I’ll leave her alone.”
With those final words, Jungwon’s father left him alone there, in pain and bruised lips, but that didn’t matter to Jungwon, and instead, he rest his head on the floor, body filled with ache and as the only thing he could think of was you.
-
A few weeks later, Jungwon asked you out on a date.
Dates are rare. Your hotel meetups weren’t dates. Dates should be romantic, sweet, and filled with surprises but your relationship wasn’t normal after all. That’s why Jungwon’s invitation left you half-anxious, and half-excited.
You don’t know what Jungwon had prepared but all you knew was that it had to be discreet and hidden. In restaurants with private rooms and trusted people, serving good food. Your heart was pounding out of your chest as you drove your way towards the address Jungwon sent you.
You left the keys to the valet and walked towards the entrance when you stopped to see two familiar figures in front of it.
“Mom, dad, what are you two doing here?” you asked as you walked towards them.
“Your mother was craving their pasta, that’s why we decided to have dinner here,” your father explained. “What about you?”
“Meeting a potential investor, hopefully, they will be here,” you lied and your parents bought it immediately.
“If that’s the case, then how about you join us? It will be helpful if we also put in our insights, right darling?” your mother said sweetly.
“You’re right dear, you know that we’re always here at every step of your career y/n,” your father added.
You were left with no choice but to nod, accepting their request. Your parents entered the restaurant first while you trail behind, fishing out your phone to text Jungwon about the sudden emergency.
The place wasn’t full at all. It was a weekday, that’s why a few tables were occupied — that included Jungwon who sat alone at a corner table. His place was hidden, almost felt like he’s out of place but you knew that it was the best spot for you two to enjoy dinner.
“What the hell is Yang Jungwon doing here?” your mother sneered.
You raised an eyebrow, acting innocent as you looked around. “Yang Jungwon?”
“Look at him, such a narcissistic jerk,” your father commented with a scoff. “Do you know they’re eyeing on the Nakamuras to invest in their company?”
“What?” That's when you glanced at your father with surprise. You may have failed to close a deal with her but you trust your guts that Jungwon’s words were right — you just didn’t expect that they’re also running after her company too.
“Yes, that’s why he was at Mr. Han’s project launch. I heard he wasn’t invited at all, he was given last minute out of formality,” your father explained and slowly, everything’s starting to connect. Jungwon’s appearance was a last-minute invitation. You don’t know if your parents were telling the truth, but you wanted to insist that Jungwon show up because of you.
“Right, they’re offering marriage right? How dirty! They’re so desperate that they opted to partner with foreign companies?”
Your heart dropped at the news. Marriage? Is this why Jungwon’s asking you out on a date? Was he going to call it off? Your mind suddenly went blank. Memories of you and Jungwon from the past few years started to flash in your mind. If it’s true then you’re thankful that your parents saved you from the heartbreak —
“Y/n? Is there anything you want? Are you alright?” you snapped out of your mind when your mother touched your arms. You flinched at her warmth but immediately, you gave them a quick smile before clearing your throat.
“I’ll just have the salmon please,” you said to her, whose worry washed away with your smile.
While your parents talked in their own world, you couldn’t help but to take a quick glance at Jungwon who you locked your eyes with in a second. You gave him a short, sorry smile and he nodded, understanding your situation.
Dinner started and you sat there while your parents indulged in the food and talk. You focused on your food, your mind still filled with thoughts about what your parents said about Jungwon earlier.
You looked at Jungwon, he looked like he’s having dinner alone — casual and in his own world. It looked like the situation doesn’t affect him at all, and you’re itching to know why he seemed so chill about everything.
While you’re here, sitting with your parents, overthinking about everything that involves you and him.
“Y/n, is your guest arriving?” your gaze shifted towards your parents. Heart hammering like crazy, hoping they didn’t notice how your stare towards Jungwon lingered too long.
“Oh,” you pretend to look at your phone before giving them a pitied smile. “They aren’t responding to my text at all. I don’t know if they’ll show up.”
“How irresponsible,” your mother commented. “Well, it’s a good thing that we’re here.”
“Right, thank you for accompanying me,” you only said before you took a sip on your wine. Your parents went back to their conversation, while your eyes shifted again towards your lover whose eyes were on you too.
Jungwon raised his glass, subtle and quick, and that made you smile, you tipped your glass in response, quick and short. Both of your eye contact remained as you took a sip on your glass. It assured you somehow and your thoughts that night vanished in just a glimpse.
Hours passed and you found yourself back in your house, alone and disappointed with tonight's outcome. The only thing you could do was to take a quick shower to wash off today's exhaustion, and hopefully — get some good night's sleep.
But you knew tonight wasn’t over when a text from Jungwon showed up on your phone.
Nuggets? his text said and you knew what it was. A small smile formed on your lips unknowingly before you grabbed a large cotton jacket and left your place in your pajamas.
You made a quick detour at a 24/7 fast food chain nearby and ordered a ten-piece chicken nuggets along with some curly fries and rootbeer float. As soon as you got your order, you drove your way out of the city in a hurry.
Somewhere uphill, at an not-so abandoned lot that’s filled with nothing but tall trees and one singular flickering streetlight, awaits Jungwon who’s sitting at the hood of his car. He was already in his sleeping clothes too. A cotton pajamas set paired with his university jacket to warm him up.
You arrived minutes later after him. After you parked your car beside him, you turned off the machine, grabbed your food and left the car.
You approached Jungwon who only gave you a smile before pointing out his order from a different foodplace. He helped you get on top of the hood of his car and in silence, the two of you sat there and stared at the view.
The night was cold yet serene. The view didn’t add to the tranquility. The dark, secluded forest that’s probably inhabited by wild animals and wandering ghosts was your view, and yet, you never found any reason to be scared of it because this was the only place that you and Jungwon could be together.
Not in your expensive suits and dress, nor with your sophisticated words and formal personality — this is a place wherein your body and soul only yearn for each other’s presence and comfort, not for pleasure and intimacy.
It’s just you, Jungwon, your take-out orders, and probably any stray creatures at the forest, trying to enjoy the night under the dimmed, flickering streetlight, wearing your sleeping clothes. Somehow, something about the whole setup made you two feel so normal — as if the two of you are a young couple out for a late-night date away from the city.
You took a sip on your rootbeer float first. You noticed Jungwon winced at your choice of drink but you didn’t comment on how he ordered onion rings that’s already soggy and made his breath smell like onion. Both of you found comfort on the greasy, unhealthy food as silence devoured you for the following minutes.
“My parents have discovered about us,” Jungwon opened up. “I was about to confess it to you during our date, my parents are forcing me to end it.”
“Then my parents ruined it,” you complained.
“Our parents ruined it,” he heaved, sounding annoyed than ever which made you focus on your food instead.
The silence crept in for the next few minutes. You’re already on your sixth nuggets when a thought struck you.
“That’s it?” you asked, confused.
Jungwon looked at you, confused with your reaction. “What?”
You shrugged, “that’s all you got to say?”
“They’ve been in contact with Kazuha ever since, they were planning to marry me off to her,” Jungwon added and that’s where hunches were right.
“My parents told me that,” you told him.
“I’m not going to marry her, don't worry, she’s completely useless to me,” Jungwon assured and though a bit harsh, you chuckled as the weight in your heart faded away.
“That’s a bit harsh.”
“I know, but you know me, I won’t marry anyone unless it’s you,” Jungwon proclaimed and that made you look at him with a bitter smile because despite his assurance, something still feels off.
“Do you think it’s going to be like this forever?” you asked instead before taking a bite on your nuggets.
“I…honestly don’t know either,” Jungwon admitted, tone full of regret. “For the first time in my life, I never thought about the future.”
“We’re a bunch of cowards, don’t you think?” you laughed but Jungwon remained quiet.
You stared at him before your hand reached for his. He squeezed it lightly, trying to convince you that he’s fine but his expressions give it away.
“I don’t like to keep it like this forever,” he said, feeling ashamed that you two have to hide it from the world. It felt like it was his fault that you two couldn’t be together in public.
But you only smiled at him. “Is this the part where we have to settle with our relationship?”
“No,” Jungwon sternly replied. “I don’t want to confront that topic right now.”
“Then what are we going to do?” you asked, tone desperate.
“Let’s just eat, your nuggets’s getting cold now,” he changed the topic instead and you rolled your eyes. His hand had left yours as he grabbed his box and grabbed another piece.
“Jungwon.”
“I love you, that’s the only thing that matters right now.” he stated before taking a bite.
You only stared at him. Appalled at his words that your heart skipped a beat. It should feel reassuring but there’s a small part of you that felt that it wasn’t enough.
Yet, you don’t want to acknowledge that emptiness because it’ll just make things hard for the both of you, that’s why you could only smile bitterly at him. “I love you too Won, and I wish that there’s a universe out there where our circumstances are different.”
“It could happen in this universe, you know?” Jungwon convinced.
You chuckled in disbelief. “You think so?”
“I hope so,” he said nonchalantly and that made you laugh.
“We’re so bad at giving hope, don’t you think?”
Jungwon laughed at your answer, he nudged you quietly before glancing at your food. “Just go finish your chicken babe.”
-
That was the last time you saw him.
It’s been weeks since you last saw Yang Jungwon. Your conversation that night should’ve left you assured and confident with Jungwon.
But why did he suddenly disappear like a ghost? The last time you heard about him was that he was leaving for Japan, for some business matters. You didn’t pry further but the communication started to slip away. No more calls nor texts. All of your text was left unread that made you wonder what’s going on with him.
You decided to spend your energy on your work instead. Time felt slow as your office became busy and overwhelming. It didn’t help that there’s a sudden change of plans in the upcoming years, hence completely ruining what you have visioned for Kingsmark. Your parents advised you to not rush yourself, but their words felt as if they’re holding you back instead.
You know that they still have control of the company, but what’s your purpose if they wouldn’t trust your decisions completely? You suddenly felt useless and burned out. A lot of things shifted for the past few weeks. Resignations of employees, changes in board of directors — and even partnered companies, were slowly disappearing week by week.
You could’ve asked your parents to leave everything to you but at the same time, you couldn’t bear to disobey your parents. That’s why you suck it up, because you think that they’re doing what’s best for you and Kingsmark.
That’s why you found yourself driving towards a restaurant for a private meeting. A potential investor, your parents told you, and with this partnership, Kingsmark will rise up to the top, beating Eden, just like what they always want too. You didn’t bother arguing with their wish and just obliged with it, hoping that this could be a stepping stone for them to get what they always wanted.
As you arrived at the restaurant, you were led to a private room where your parents were. They greeted you with a hug before leading you towards a tall man who seemed foreign.
He was handsome, face sculpted like he was a model, and his outfit seemed informal for a business meeting. But you didn’t question it as he gave you a smile.
“Y/n, this is Mr. Nishimura Riki,” your father introduced.
“Hello,” you greeted, giving him your hand which he accepted.
“He’s your future husband,” your mother said.
That’s when you froze, tugging away your hands from his. He seemed offended as you looked at him with disgust before looking at your parents with confusion.
“Husband?” you muttered.
“She was just shocked Mr. Nishimura, give her time to process,” your mother insisted at the man who hasn’t said any word.
“No, I’m sorry, you must be mistaken,” you laughed before shaking your head. “There will be no wedding nor any arrangement, I’m sorry, but I have to go.”
Hastily, you left the room and ran your way out of the restaurant — ignoring your parents who followed you immediately.
“Y/n! Y/n come back here!” you ignored your mother’s voice and started running faster despite wearing stilettos.
But the crooked pavement didn’t help either. You were cursing under your breath as you almost trip while walking. That’s when you gave up, standing frozen at your place as you try to sink everything that happened inside the restaurant.
“Y/n —”
“I am not marrying a stranger ma — we don’t need them! Our company’s doing great,” you stated but your mother’s face shifted into disappointment as she shook her head.
“You’re failing Kingsmark, you’re not fit to take over and lead the company,” your mother argued and that made you raise an eyebrow.
“I am doing everything for Kingsmark but you guys always have to interfere — I couldn’t even make decisions without you guys intervening in everything,” you insisted.
“We have to,” this time, it was your father who talked. His voice was authoritative and clearly, he was mad at you. “You’re not trustworthy enough y/n, especially ever since you started seeing that Yang Jungwon.”
Your world stopped. The revelation came crashing down like a meteorite. You gaze on both your parents, trying to articulate words.
“H-how…how did you —”
“We know from the start. We knew y/n and we let you continue your foolish affair, we were just waiting for you to wake up,” your father explained, and you couldn’t believe everything he just said.
“Wake up? What are you talking about —”
“Jungwon is still a Yang, and he will always be, do you really think he loves you? He’ll do everything to make Eden group remain at its spot.” he insisted and that made you scoff.
“Jungwon’s not like that, he’s different.” you defended.
“How sure are you? Open your eyes y/n, he’s just using you, he knows you’re weak and kind-hearted, and that selfish bastard took advantage of you.” your mother argued.
You became quiet for a moment. You recalled everything — everything you and Jungwon had.
It should be real. What you two had. You know and your heart is telling you that everything is real. You could see the way he looks at you, how he cared, and assure you. Everything was real. It should be.
But everything made sense all of the sudden. Ever since you took over your family’s company. Something shifted with Jungwon. All the projects and plans you unknowingly spilled on him as you cry your stress out to him — it always ends up with Eden group having the same idea. He seemed to become more attentive with you leading Kingsmark, it was as if he wanted to know all the future plans that you have.
Then came Kazuha. He knew that you were planning to have her as an investor. It doesn’t feel like a coincidence that later on, he was supposed to marry her. What if everything he said that night was just a lie? Everything seemed to align — his absence, him being in Japan — everything makes sense and yet, you don’t want to accept the reality.
Your vision started to blur as tears formed on your eyes. You looked at your parents with nothing but mere denial on your face.
“But…I love him,” you confessed to them, almost a mumble as you felt embarrassed confessing to your parents that you have loved an enemy.
“You’ll learn to love Riki someday sweetheart,” your mother insisted but you shook your head. You can’t just love someone all of the sudden. You couldn’t — all your heart yearns for is Jungwon.
“No.” you stated loud and clear. “I’m going to fix Kingsmark on my own. Without your help, without Riki’s help, I am going to do this alone from now on.”
“You have proved to us that you’re incapable of handling Kingsmark,” your father rebutted. “The contracts have been signed. We’ll be merging with their company whether you like it or not.”
“Without consulting me?” you asked, feeling betrayed than ever. “If that was the case, then you shouldn’t have made me the heiress of the company.”
“You’re being rebellious, you knew from the start that you’ll inherit the company — that damn Yang Jungwon’s corrupting you!” your father accused.
That’s when you scoff, “if that was the case then I’d be happy to be corrupted by him.”
A slap. A sharp one stinged as your mother’s hand landed on your face. You were in total daze as realization hit you.
“Wake up y/n, this isn’t a fairytale. You’re a l/n, you belong to Kingsmark the same way Jungwon belongs to Eden. You two aren’t just made for each other,” your mother coldly stated while you remained frozen, trying to process the slap your mother just gave you.
Even with your cheeks numb, it didn’t hurt more than the fact that trying to separate you from Jungwon.
“You and Jungwon are not meant to be y/n, he’s off there getting married to someone else.” your father said.
“He rejected the proposal, he wouldn’t be marrying anyone unless it’s me and I’ll do the same,” you objected.
“How sure are you about that y/n, there’s a reason why he’s in Japan, isn’t he?”
No. No way. It was the one thing that you dreaded to become a reality — Jungwon completely betraying you.
To add fuel to the fire, your father gave you his phone and with shaky hands, you grabbed it to see pictures of Jungwon and Kazuha together.
Different photos. In hotel lobbies, coffee shops, and restaurants. In public. Out loud compared to you and your hidden affair.
They were smiling, together, in public — it was your only dream with him and yet, reality hit you harder — that your dream will forever remain a dream.
“They’re getting married y/n, so stop this madness and accept the fact that you two will never be together.” your mother said, and from there, tears started to stream down from your eyes.
“Next week, your official engagement party will be held. Be prepared, and make sure you’ve grown acquainted with Riki, we shouldn’t disappoint him.” your father explained. “Don’t disappoint us y/n. You don’t want us to be your enemy right?”
“Or what? You’d hurt me just like what mom did?” you mocked.
“You might never see Jungwon, ever again,” your father threatened and that’s when you didn’t argue anymore, knowing how capable your parents were to get rid of a threat to them.
-
The engagement party arrived a few days later. It felt rushed, but you knew that your parents were persistent to tie you down with someone else.
It was a private event. Held in a well-known venue that has a beautiful grassfield on display, only a few people were invited, and by tomorrow — your engagement will be announced in public.
From the outside, you could hear the crowd already. Their murmurs and gossip while your heart tightened at the idea. You were concealing your emotions, hoping to put a good show for the crowd.
“Let’s go?” Riki asked, holding out his arm which you accepted without any thought. Over the last few days, you got to know your fiance. He was cold and guarded, it seemed like he thinks of this marriage as purely out of business only.
You entered the reception hall with your hands resting on Riki’s arms. The crowd applauded at your entrance while your smile became faker as all eyes were on you two. Despite the cheers and claps, you could hear your heart drumming loudly, screaming for you to leave, run away, and never return.
But this is your world. This is how you were born and raised, you have to accept that the life of luxury and living in an empire was all you ever taught growing up. That included marriage too, everything is a matter of business, connection, and power.
That’s why, whatever your parents had arranged with Riki, you just hoped that it was worth everything.
Just as you thought things could go worse, your eyes gazed at the corner and that’s when your heart bursted out of your chest. Eyes turned wide as at the corner, you see him.
Jungwon, holding a glass of wine. He raised the glass with a bitter expression on his face. You weren’t able to process everything, not when Riki tugged you closer to him.
“Are you okay?” he asked, and you nodded immediately. Letting him guide you towards your parents who seemed to be pleased with the situation. Your mother hugged you tightly but you couldn’t even reciprocate her hug. You couldn’t believe that the next place you’d ever see Jungwon was in your engagement party.
Your parents invited him on purpose. They knew what they were doing, and you don't know why Jungwon entered their trap — a part of you wondered if he knew too and still went here.
As you broke out of the hug, you tried to glance at his place again but he’s not there anymore. Your eyes search for him, but it was too late when your parents pulled you to have you be introduced to some strangers.
The party started but your mind was elsewhere. You couldn’t get out of Riki’s hold either. It looks like your parents have informed him about Jungwon and to keep an eye on you. You couldn’t do anything but to go along with it, faking smiles and engaging in conversation with strangers and people you barely knew.
“You seem out of your head,” Riki commented as the hour passed by.
“Just tired,” you lied, even though your mind is still searching for Jungwon.
Riki nodded at your words. “Do you want to rest?”
“I would love that,” you replied shortly.
But before you could even move, the lights turned off all of the sudden. The room was filled with gasps and screams of surprise, everyone was trying to process everything that just happened — even you.
It wasn’t until an arm grabbed you out of nowhere, you weren’t able to let out a scream when the stranger’s hand covered your mouth before dragging you out of the venue.
The drag was long. Everything was pitch black until a gentle breeze welcomed you and from the dimmed lights on the venue’s garden, you saw the person behind the commotion — that’s when it hit you.
“You’re getting married!?” Jungwon asked furiously. His grip on you loosened as he looked at you like you’ve betrayed him.
“My parents have arranged this,” you explained.
“And you agreed with it?”
“I have no choice Jungwon, it’s for Kingsmark —”
But Jungwon laughed mockingly. “Really? You’re selling your soul for your company, for fuck’s sake y/n, marriage isn’t the solution to that!”
“I have no choice, Jungwon, you’ve stolen everything!” you argued back, startling Jungwon who looked at you confused.
“What?” he breathed.
“Our partnered companies, stockholders — even our suppliers and staff, they are all leaving us and moving to Eden group,” you explained.
“You think I’m behind all of this?” he asked, appalled by your accusation.
“Because there’s no other explanation other than that! Everything happened the moment I became Kingsmark’s head and something shifted on you Jungwon.” you pointed out.
“That’s it? You think I’d do that?”
“You’re a Yang, you’ll do everything to keep your company on top,” you accused and from there, Jungwon’s expression changed. He looked at you in disbelief, shocked that you’d say those words.
“I thought we passed through that?”
“I don’t know Jungwon, I don’t know if I should trust you ever since we — ever since we dated, Kingsmark has been slowly decreasing and failing.” you explained.
“You’re going to blame that on me? Maybe you’re just incompetent that’s why it’s failing,” he rebutted.
That was a low blow. You were surprised that those words came out of his mouth. You convinced yourself that it was just Jungwon being frank and brutal, but something about what he said felt like a dagger to your heart.
What hurts most was that he doesn’t look sorry at all, and that’s when it hits you — that maybe, your parents are right all along.
“Right, maybe it’s me who’s incompetent, that’s why I am making things right,” you agreed. “And if this marriage is the solution, I’m going to do it —”
“What the fuck!? Are you serious? Do you even know who you’re marrying? Do you even know their background or maybe, you’re that desperate to beat Eden group?” he fumed.
You nodded to his words, even if it felt bitter. “Maybe I am that desperate, because I am not going to let Kingsmark end with me.”
“Nishimura Riki from the clan of the Nishimura yakuzas? A well-known yakuza clan in Okayama who later venture to different prefectures in Japan and made their name well-known, they sell illegal stuff. Drugs, weapons, and assasination — you’re marrying a dangerous man y/n,” Jungwon explained.
“I guess my parents think that it was better for me to be married to a dangerous man rather than to you Jungwon.” you said in disbelief, even laughing at your situation.
“You’re okay with that?”
“Because they left me no choice, Jungwon,” you heaved. Deep inside you wanted to tell him. The threat, your fear of what they might do to him.
You don’t know what your parents would do if you continue your relationship with Jungwon. You don’t want to put his life in danger too, that’s why in order to keep the person you love the most safe, you have to sacrifice yourself.
“What about us then?” he asked.
“There’s no us anymore Jungwon.”
“Suddenly? It’s so easy for you to throw everything that we had,” he scoffed.
“Do we really have something Jungwon? Who knows maybe you were just a goddamn good actor that everything was just an act just to infiltrate my company.” you accused.
“You think low of me to think that I’d do that y/n.”
“Then what’s the reason? Why did you love me Jungwon?” you questioned as your eyes started to get wet.
“It just happened.” Jungwon answered, short and simple. “Just like yours, it just happened, and our feelings don’t lie y/n, I know you love me, you’re just scared to disappoint your parents.”
“That’s right, I have disappointed them enough, failing Kingsmark, loving their rival’s son — it’s no use Jungwon, we are just not meant to be, we’re better with somebody else,” you told him.
“What do you mean?” Jungwon asked, confused.
“You’re marrying Kazuha.”
“I am not.”
“Then why are you together in Japan!?” you shouted.
“I was helping her with her company! In that way the marriage won’t happen! I set her up with a friend! Why do you think that I’d marry her? If that was your breaking point to agree to the marriage, then you don’t trust me enough,” Jungwon argued.
“Maybe I do, because I don’t know if everything about us is real,” you supposed.
Jungwon stared at you for a minute. Disbelief still evident on his face. “Were those real for you? Why are you doubting us suddenly? What did your parents planted in your mind that made you hesitate and doubt our love? We’ve been together for eight years, if I want to betray you, I would’ve done it earlier.”
“Yeah, maybe I am doubting our love because if it’s love, why do we have to keep it a secret?” you pondered.
“You know the answer to that, we simply just couldn’t.” Jungwon reminded.
“Right, that’s why I am not going to keep this any longer,” you said in defeat.
“You’re just ending things just like that? Just because of a misunderstanding? You’re just going to give us up easily?”
“Well, would you? Are you going to give up everything for us to happen?” you rebutted.
“You know I would y/n, because I love you and you know I’d risk everything if it means we get to be together forever,” Jungwon declared and yet, you remained unfazed. You only stood there, frozen and confused.
“How about you? Are you going to do the same? But seeing that fear got you first, I don’t think you love me the same way that I love you,” he pointed out.
“That’s not true Jungwon, I love you. I love you enough that I took the risk of meeting you, being with you, and everything —”
“But it’s not enough for you to fight for us. I also need you to fight for me. We’re in this together. I need you too y/n,” Jungwon explained, tone soft yet tired as he looked at you who couldn’t do anything.
“I’m sorry Jungwon.” you cried, tears streaming down your eyes.
“Don’t do this.” he begged once again, sounding more desperate than ever. “We made a promise y/n, we…it’s us against the world, we could —”
“We couldn’t Jungwon,” you breathed. “We, we’re just not meant to be, you know that.”
Jungwon stared at you for a good minute.
“I’m sorry, I’m tired of our situation, I couldn’t do this anymore,” you said before turning around and starting to walk away — but he caught your arms immediately, making you stop.
“You’re giving up all of a sudden? We’ve been doing this for eight goddamn years, and you’re throwing it all in just a snap? I can’t believe you.” Jungwon spoke. He wasn’t angry anymore, his tone was more of a beg, and that just hurts you even more.
“To love is to let go, Jungwon,” you said to him before removing his hold on you. “I love you so much but I just know that you’ll meet someone better, someone — who you could love outloud, and I’m not that girl.”
“If you love someone, you’d fight for them y/n,” Jungwon rebutted. “Why do you think that letting go is the best choice when you could just fight for our love? This is much better because I am with you in this situation y/n, you’re not alone.”
“I can’t fight anymore Jungwon, I am tired,” you insisted before you faced and gently gave him a kiss. “I’m sorry.”
Jungwon was frozen by your actions. Your eyes were already red and wet from your cries. He wasn’t able to do anything but to watch you mouth your apology to him one last time before you turned around and walked away from him again.
“You think I won’t fight for our love y/n!?” Jungwon shouted, making you stop. “I’d do it in a heartbeat but I wanted to ask, can you do the same thing to me?”
Instead of answering, you started walking again, slowly away from him as the tears from your eyes continued to pour.
-
Moving on wasn’t your best forte.
Sure, you had a fair share of past relationships before Jungwon happened but the problem is, they’re not Jungwon.
They weren’t Yang Jungwon who was supposed to be your enemy. They weren’t him who you meet in secret, in your own little world, away from the crowd and the empires that were built to become your hindrance. They weren’t him who loved you only for you, not as the golden spoon-borned heiress. Just you.
Eight years. Eight fucking years and you just ended it in just one night because you weren’t Jungwon who’s not afraid to fight for love. You’re just you, someone who’s lost and knows the only right thing to do is, do what’s best.
You’re your parents’ only daughter. The sole heiress of Kingsmark. You’re destined to continue your family lineage and build a stronger foundation of Kingsmark. Arranged marriages aren’t new in your world, so you just have to accept that this is the world you grew up to.
It’s been two weeks since you and Jungwon called it off. Two weeks and your engagement with Nishimura Riki had been publicized to the world.
True to Jungwon’s words, Riki was indeed a dangerous man, but he was still powerful nonetheless. You concluded that this marriage wasn’t just for you to be separated from Jungwon, but also to gain power outside your country.
Riki was a quiet man. Cold yet you could see that he has a protective side when it comes to you. He seemed to have warmed up to you while you’ve grown accustomed to his presence, it felt like a guard dog given to you.
Despite his presence and that expensive engagement ring on your fourth finger, you couldn’t find yourself moving on from your relationship with Jungwon. Not when it was abrupt, sudden — without any closure at all. You just left Jungwon there, wondering what went wrong.
You didn’t even try calling him or sending him any message. No amount of apologies and sorry could make up for the damage you have done to him. You have hurt him too much that you’re ashamed to face him. That’s why the only thing that you could do was hope for the best for him.
Then came the sudden news. You were in your office when you heard it.
Eden group of companies under fire for alleged embezzlement of 800 billion won.
Suddenly, your ears turned deaf and everything felt mute as Jungwon’s face was plastered on the television. You couldn’t make up the words the anchor was saying but your heart was screaming Jungwon.
Jungwon.
Is Jungwon okay?
What the hell is this? Is Jungwon involved in this?
You snapped out of your thoughts and hastily, your shaky hands grabbed your phone and dialed Jungwon’s phone — only for the number to be unregistered.
You tried once, twice — numerous times before you gave up. A curse and two escaped your lips before you scrolled through every contact you have with Jungwon but none. It’s as if Jungwon blocked you or disappeared.
You sat there clutching your phone tightly while your heart tightened even more. Everything hurts. Jungwon, you don’t know what’s going on with him right now and you badly wanted to know how he is.
But the guilt crept more to you as you recalled your last moments with Jungwon, remembering how you walked away from him. You wanted to curse yourself for giving up on him. Just when he needed you the most, you walked away from him.
Your trail of thoughts disappeared when your parents entered your office. They seem in a good mood, so you try to brush the news as you close your phone and try to plaster a smile.
“Dear, did you see the news?” your mother asked sweetly that it halted on to you.
Your heart hammered louder. They looked as if they’re anticipating your reaction, while you looked at them with eyes wide.
“Is this about Jungwon?” you asked them back.
“This is what we’re talking about,” your mother said softly, but to you, it felt mocking.
“I don’t understand,” you only said.
“Their truth is now exposed, thank goodness because they deserve what’s about to happen to them,” your father stated and from how they reacted, something felt off.
“You guys did that?” you asked, appalled.
“We did it for you,” your mother explained, and that’s when the truth hit you. “To show you how dirty Yang Jungwon is.”
You shook your head, “no, he’s not — he won’t do something like that. You set him up.”
“We didn’t, they just don’t know how to clean up their own mess.” your father answered.
That’s when you exploded, standing up with rage as you looked at them. “Why do you have to do that!? Was it enough for you to marry me off to Riki!? You told me you won’t do anything to Jungwon.”
“This is just a pure business kid,” your father answered and that made you stop. “You’d understand it someday.”
“I’ll never understand because you never ever tried to look at me as someone who’s capable of doing things on my own.” you mocked. “I had enough of this, I am tired of you controlling me, and I won’t let you control my life anymore.”
You stood up from your seat, grabbed your things and left your office, ignoring your parent’s shouts as your mind turned blank and spiralled. You were overwhelmed. Every emotion — anger, guilt, and anxiety mixed with your brain but you decided to just do what your heart is telling you to do.
You got into your car and drove towards the only person who knew about Jungwon. Giving your car keys to the valet, you immediately entered the lobby, and to your luck — he was there.
“Sunoo, I need to talk to Jungwon,” you stated the moment you approached the man.
But Sunoo only stared. He looked surprised to see you here, filled with desperation and yet, he didn’t budge. The man looked like he was thinking whether to tell you or not, which meant that Sunoo knows something.
“He’s not here y/n,” Sunoo answered. “They’re investigating Eden group right now, and since he’s the head, he’s probably either hiding, or complying with the investigation. He’s in deep trouble right now.”
“I know, that’s why I need to talk to him.” you repeated.
Sunoo shrugged casually, “I don’t know about his whereabouts y/n. Jungwon disappeared.”
Your forehead creased to his answer. “Disappeared?”
The man nodded, “disappeared. He left. Vanished without any trace — I don’t know. I couldn’t reach him or anything.”
“He wouldn’t — I — I need to help him,” you said. “My parents — they’re behind this, and I need to help —”
“Breathe y/n, calm down please,” Sunoo said softly, holding your cold, sweaty hands as he helped you with your breathing. You couldn’t help but to worry further, especially when the only trail you have towards Jungwon doesn’t have a single clue about his presence.
“Sunoo, I need to help him,” you muttered and the man only nodded.
“If there’s someone who knows Jungwon the best between us, that’s you y/n,” Sunoo advised. “So calm down, and just let Jungwon do this. He knows how to handle this case.”
-
You were losing hope.
The scandal was all over the news for the past following days. It haunted you. You wondered about Jungwon’s whereabouts. You looked everywhere for him but nothing.
He’s gone.
Just gone in a glimpse, and you thought you couldn’t do anything about it anymore — not until your phone rang late at night and a message appeared to you. All your worries faded.
Nuggets?
That one word. That damn one word was all you needed to get your hopes high.
Jungwon’s alive, and he’s asking you to meet him. He’s alive — and he wanted to see you. The thought repeated in your mind numerous times before it sinked into you. The text made you hopeful. Your heart was filled with determination as you grabbed your phone, car keys, and jacket, and left your flat.
Driving towards that spot. You could feel your heart’s about to burst out of your chest anytime. You were nervous, scared of how to confront Jungwon but there’s a small hope in you that tries to ease you. It’s just Jungwon. He won’t do anything bad to you.
You already noticed his car when you arrived at the empty lot. Parking your car and turning off the engine, you suddenly froze, seemingly scared to go out.
But there he was standing near his car. Hair messy and longer than usual, while his eyes looked tired, filled with dark circles underneath. It looks like the case took a toll on him but he spared his time to meet up.
He needs you. Your heart told you. There's no time for you to be scared, that’s why you got out of the car but stopped in front. Waiting for him to make a move.
Jungwon didn’t say anything and instead, he opened his arms wide — like he was asking for your hug and that was it.
You broke down.
You ran towards him who managed to catch you smoothly. His hug was tight and safe. Life suddenly felt safe and comforting to you as that familiar scent from your lover hit your nose.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered to him. “I didn’t mean — for everything, I’m sorry —”
Your words were cut off when Jungwon crashed his lips against yours. Hungry, eager, and missing you like crazy. His hands that gripped your face were too tight but you couldn't do anything but to groan against his lips as you kissed him back with much intensity.
The kiss went for another minute and two until Jungwon broke out first, catching his breath as his stare on you lingered.
“It’s okay, I know you don’t mean it,” Jungwon said.
“I’m sorry Jungwon, I was just — just so scared of everything,” you apologized as your stare on him never left. “My parents — they, they told me that they’ll do something to you. That’s why I agreed.”
“We’ll talk about it for another day, but right now, I need you.” he replied and that made you look at him.
“Is it about your case?”
He nodded. “Your parents exposed it to the media,”
“They did, they confessed it to me,” you confirmed.
“Great, I owe them for that because my parents were planning on pining everything on me,” Jungwon stated and your ears rang at the confession.
“What? Why?”
“Because of us,” Jungwon answered, his thumb brushing onto your cheeks softly. “It wasn’t enough that I called it off, they wanted me to suffer.”
“Jungwon, what do you want me to do?” you asked.
“Testify with me.”
“For the case?”
“It’s about time that we tell everyone about us,” Jungwon decided. “But I need you to be there with me.”
“Can we do that? We’re talking about our parents, they could do more damage to us,” you asked, still filled with fear.
“We’re in this together y/n, we’ll get through this,” he assured.
But you weren’t able to say anything when you heard screeches of wheels driving towards your spot. You two separated from each other as both heads turned towards the direction of the sound.
Your eyes widened as you saw a familiar black maserati. Stopping in front of you, the door opened, and Riki went out of the vehicle, looking furious and mad.
“Jungwon —” Jungwon immediately pulled you behind him, shielding you from Riki who seemed to have every intention of taking you back.
Things went too fast for your sight. The next thing you knew, Riki landed a punch on Jungwon, making the man stumble upon the ground with a bloodied nose.
“Jungwon!” you shouted and screamed in terror as Riki pulled you away from Jungwon, you struggled against him as the tall man carried you away on his shoulders.
You screamed Jungwon’s name as you tried to escape your way out of Riki’s grip, but all of your struggles were useless when he placed you down on the passenger seat before he moved towards the driver’s seat.
“Where’s your phone?” Riki asked as he started to pat down your clothes, you pushed Riki away but he was stronger, finally finding your phone and stealing it away from you.
“You didn’t have to do that!” you shouted at Riki.
“You listen to me,” the man ordered, cold and authoritative as he grabbed you by your face, facing him who had nothing but a predatory gaze that sent chills down your spine.
“You and I are getting married whether you like it or not. Your parents owe me billions, if you don’t compromise, it’ll be the end of them, do you understand?” he warned.
“Billions?” you asked.
“How the fuck do you think your parents’ found the Yang’s dirt?” Riki shared and the revelation made your stomach churned.
“Are you serious?”
“Your parents made a deal with me, they knew what they’re doing,” Riki explained before he released his hold on you. “Unfortunate to you, you’re the product sold to me. So if you really love your parents, you shut the fuck up and don’t you ever meet up with Yang Jungwon ever again.”
“Is that a threat?” you asked, appalled.
“It’ll be if you disobey me once again,” he warned and that made you shut up.
“You’re lucky that it’s your parents’ life that’s at risk,” he glanced at Jungwon’s direction, a smirk becoming evident to his lips. “Or else, it’ll be his life.”
“Don’t you ever touch Jungwon,” you scowled at him but the man remained unfazed.
“If you want to keep him alive, you do everything I say,” he repeated once again and you were left with no choice. You watched as Riki turned off your phone and placed it in his jacket’s pocket. With nothing else you could do, you sinked into your chair as your cry started to become louder, wondering why everyone seemed so against you and Jungwon’s love.
-
The veil’s crown felt heavy on your head.
Your hair, filled with numerous extensions was tied into a bun, white flowers adorned around the bun along with a crown wherein your veil was extended.
You were glowing, all ethereal in your wedding gown and yet, the sorrow expression in your face couldn’t be erased. This was supposed to be a wonderful day for you, but this felt like a tragedy instead — knowing that the person who’s meeting you at the altar, wasn’t the one you love.
You watched in the mirror’s reflection how the stylist fixed your makeup with much precision. Your makeup was simple, and clean, keeping a pure image that complements your immaculate white wedding gown. While getting yourself prepared, your mind was spiraling, wondering about Jungwon’s whereabouts. You lost contact with him, and it didn’t help that Riki was guarding you 24/7.
You could only hope that he’s fine and that the case would be dissolved. You couldn’t meet him anymore, especially when there’s a threat waiting for him.
That’s why you had given up. Your loved ones are in danger and you don’t want to do any reckless acts anymore. If this wedding could give you a peace of mind that everyone you love will be safe, you’re willing to go on with it — even if it means marrying the man who has been nothing but a threat to you.
A knock on the door startled you. Turning around, you saw that it was just one of Riki’s men, informing you that the wedding car had arrived. You nodded to his words while you let the stylist do some last minute touch-ups before going. Eventually, she helped you get out of the hotel room, downwards the elevator, and enter the car.
With the door closing, the car drove away from the hotel. As you watch the hotel disappear in front of you, followed by the car entering the lane along with the hundred cars on the road, that’s when it sinked into you how sad and lonely your wedding day is.
The drive was smooth. It was quiet yet cold that you couldn’t help but to spiral. You missed Jungwon and his dimpled smile. You wished that it was him who’s at the altar, not some freaking yakuza.
That’s when you felt the tears forming on your eyelids and it didn’t help that you started to sob incoherently. You couldn’t even wipe the tears away due to your emotions, your cries became too much that the driver let out a deep sigh.
“All that crying will make you ugly,” you halted when you heard a familiar voice. You look up and that’s when you noticed who was driving the car.
“Sunoo!?” you shout in surprise as you see his face in the rearview mirror.
“You looked lovely bride-to-be,” he smiled. “But I am afraid that the wedding’s not going to happen”
“What?”
“Because you’re going to testify for Jungwon today. He’s holding a private conference today and he’s waiting for you.” he explained, and with that, he turned left, going in the opposite direction of the church.
Your eyes widened at his action, while Sunoo whistled happily before stepping on the gas pedal harder, almost making the car fly on the road.
“Sunoo — turn around please! I must go to the wedding,” you pleaded. “My parent’s in danger if I don't marry Riki.”
But Sunoo only scoffed, “Your parents? Your parents who're going to marry you off to a yakuza? Your parents who exposed and ruined Jungwon’s reputation?”
“Yes, my parents, now please Sunoo, I need to be at the wedding,” you begged but Sunoo remained unfazed.
“Y/n, listen, fuck your parents.” he stated and you were horrified to hear that from him.
“Don’t. Just don’t think about them. Think about yourself, are you seriously going to let yourself save your parents’ selfishness? They put Jungwon in danger, they’re the ones who forced you to marry a yakuza — y/n, you deserve more, you and Jungwon, you two deserve each other,” he lectured.
You became quiet for a moment.
“It’s time to show everyone what you’ve been hiding,” Sunoo added.
“I am scared Sunoo, what’s going to happen to me? To them?” you asked.
“If you love and trust Jungwon enough, you won’t be scared, he’ll be there for you, no matter what,” the man advised smoothly and yet, it didn’t lift the worry in your heart.
“Could I trust you with that?”
“Your parents must be a bunch of assholes for you to have trust issues,” Sunoo commented, “Whatever, just follow your heart or whatever corny shit you’ll do for love.”
The car stopped in front of a small court room. There were hundreds of reporters and photographers gathered outside as they continuously took photos of Jungwon who stood in front of them, holding a microphone pack while he had nothing but a blank expression on his face.
You stared at him, still appalled at the situation. He looked numbed and tired from everything, that your heart frailed in guilt. You remember the last time you two saw each other — he needed you to testify to him with the case.
It’s time for you two to show the world your love that you’ve been hiding for eight years.
“Go,” Sunoo said, making you look at him. The man only smiled at you as he gestured to you once again.
You hesitated for a moment before you opened the door, holding your wedding gown, you took off the veil and walked towards the crowd, stealing their attention from Jungwon who was speaking and now, went silent as he looked at you — surprised to see you here.
Jungwon always envisioned it. That someday, he’d see you walking towards him in your wedding gown, smiling at him as you carry a bouquet of your favorite flowers while he was standing at the end, heart filled with anticipation to marry the woman he had ever loved — Jungwon just didn’t expect that it’d happen earlier — and not during his wedding day.
You look beautiful of course. Breath-taking as your makeup enhanced your features and beauty. You held your head high like you were proud that you’re here, walking towards him without any hesitation — that’s when it struck him.
You’re here for him and for the whole world to know about you and him. You’re here to fight for your love for him.
“You’re here,” he whispered as you stood in front of him.
“I’m here, and I’m scared, but you’re here, so I’m less scared now,” you said to him, letting out a soft chuckle.
“Don’t worry, I won’t leave you in this one,” he said before he handed you the microphone pack.
Without any thought, you grabbed the pack from him, before you faced the crowd. Cameras started flashing, and videos were being recorded. The whole world’s about to know about you and Jungwon, so you took a deep breath and spoke.
“I am l/n y/n of Kingsmark Corp. and I am here to stand as a witness for Yang Jungwon and the allegations surrounding him.” You started, trying your best not to break your voice.
“The embezzlement was true, I can testify it because it was my parents who exposed it to the media about Eden groups’ mishandling of funds,” you explained. “This is in order to beat Eden group and make Kingsmark Corp the top company.”
“Is there any proof that it was your parents who did this?” one reporter asked.
“They confessed it to me, verbally,” you answered. “I have a recording of the said conversation with me. I am willing to submit it as evidence upon the court’s request.”
“Mr. & Mrs. l/n paid news outlets for the articles to be published, it was accumulated that they spent five billion won just to expose Eden group,” Jungwon added. “The same five million won they borrowed from Eastnight Inc., which all of you know, has ties with the Nishimura clan.”
That’s when you stopped, looking at Jungwon whose face remained serious.
“In exchange for Eden’s downfall, they sold their only daughter to the Nishimura clan to pay the debt off.” Jungwon’s hands reached for yours and you weren’t able to do anything as you tried to process everything that Jungwon had said.
“Where did you learn that?” one of them asked.
“I will not reveal my resources, but I have documents and files that prove that all of my statements and testaments are true.” Jungwon explained before letting out a deep sigh. “This also proves that I don’t have any involvement in any mishandling of funds of Eden group. It was my parents — they did this behind my back, forging my signature to receive funds from different partners and investors.”
“What about the allegations that you were seen in different places most of the time, this caused suspicion from the investigators, would you like to clarify this part?” another reporter asked.
“It is true, I am always at different places — sketchy places, hidden ones, and seemingly a place to do illegal trades but the truth is, I was just meeting miss y/n,” Jungwon admitted and there it was.
Your secret’s out now. Jungwon said it without any hesitation.
“Miss y/n and I have a relationship. We’ve been seeing each other for eight years now.” Jungwon confessed as he looked at you, who only smiled at his statement.
“But your families are rivals.”
“Hence why they wanted to destroy us, they’re punishing us only because we have loved,” you answered instead. “But we’re here now, talking in front of everyone, to prove that we’re innocent. Our love was real, and it deserves to be known and be out loud. Everything that had happened to us were just schemes by our parents upon discovering our relationship. We’ve done nothing other than to love.”
Saying those words, you felt your chest becoming lighter. All your worries, thoughts, and anxiety disappeared as your hand that held Jungwon’s tightened. He looked at you and without any words, you smiled at him — and that eased his worries too.
“With that said, I am stepping down as the chief executive officer of the Eden group of companies. This is a matter of betrayal from the people I should trust the most. From now on, I don’t want to be involved with the mentioned company.” Jungwon declared
“So do I,” you stated. “I am stepping down as the chief executive officer of Kingsmark corporation. I don’t want to be involved with the mentioned company — and if my parents are watching this, I am not sorry for loving Yang Jungwon.”
Jungwon smirked at your remark. You looked at him with a smile when suddenly, he pulled you close to you before sealing a kiss on your lips.
Cameras started flashing. All you could hear was the continuous press of buttons as Jungwon’s kiss deepened on yours. You didn’t say anything but instead, you closed your eyes before kissing him back, arms wrapped around his shoulder, out loud in public to show everyone and the world that what you two have is real.
As you two broke off the kiss, both smiles were wide as Jungwon grabbed you by your hand and pulled you away from the scene. Reporters tried to get more of your statement but the moment you two had entered the car, Sunoo drove away from the place.
“That was quite a scene you two did there,” Sunoo whistled, glancing at the rearview mirror where you and Jungwon were laughing like idiots on the backseat.
“We make a pretty good team, don’t we?” Jungwon asked and you only smiled.
“Of course,” you quipped. “But what now?”
“We’ll start anew, but not here, somewhere — somewhere where we could act normal, love each other without hiding from the world.” he answered.
“I love that,” you said with bliss.
Jungwon smiled before leaning on you for another kiss, you placed a hand on his face as you kissed him back with the same intensity. It would’ve been longer if it wasn’t for Sunoo who cleared his throat, glaring at the two of you through his rearview mirror.
“I’m still here,” he reminded, making you two separate from each other.
“You know my offer for you to join us still stands,” Jungwon teased and he watched how his best friend visibly gagged.
“Ew, no thanks.”
Your next destination was the airport. You didn’t ask any question and instead placed your trust on Jungwon. You watched as Sunoo casually stirred the wheel, going towards an unfamiliar path which you immediately noticed was a restricted area.
He rolled down his window before he fished out a thick envelope and handed it to the guard who accepted it without any thought. You didn’t pry further and instead, waited for the gates to be open for the car to go inside.
Away from the domestic flights, the car went to a farther area — a place you never thought had existed. The road seemed to be endless until you noticed a jet parked nearby and a few people standing.
Sunoo stopped the car in front of them. Jungwon opened the car and reached for his hands.
“Let’s go,” he said and you don’t know why you hesitated for a moment.
“Are you okay?” Jungwon asked, worried.
“I still feel scared,” you said with all honesty.
Jungwon cupped your cheeks, gentle as he looked at you softly. “I know, but sometimes we have to do something while scared.”
“We’re really going to be free right?” you asked him who only smiled at your simple question.
“Of course, don’t worry about us, I’ve planned everything out, I’m not going to abandon you and the life you’ve lived.” Jungwon assured
You nodded at his words before accepting his hands. He guided you towards the private jet wherein a few men greeted Jungwon with formal handshakes and greetings.
“Is everything set Taki?” Jungwon asked.
“Yeah, Yudai-san and Euijoo hyung’s flying the plane, you should probably go now or it’ll start getting suspicious,” the man, named Taki, replied.
“Good — wait, before we go,” Jungwon said before he looked at you with a smirk.
“What?” you asked.
“Sunoo, can you officiate our wedding?” he asked his best friend suddenly.
“What!?” you shrieked.
“The fuck?” Sunoo cursed as he looked at Jungwon in horror.
“What? It’ll be a waste for your wedding gown, come on, we already have some witnesses here.” Jungwon casually stated, even pointing at the men standing nearby, who seemed entertained at the sudden ceremony.
“We don’t even have a ring.” you rebutted.
“That’s what you thought,” Jungwon chuckled as he grabbed something from his pocket — a velvet box which made your eyes widen.
“What the fuck —” you breathed.
“Will you marry me? Right here, right now?” Jungwon asked as he immediately went onto his knees making you pull him out of the place.
“Seriously?” you exhaled as he stood up from his place, but the smile on his face never faded. Jungwon looked so determined with his request.
“I am serious, come on, everyone’s waiting for you,” Jungwon insisted but you were caught off-guard completely. You stared at him dazed, not knowing what to do especially after everything that just happened today.
“Stop being so dramatic, we’ll leave in ten minutes by the way!” someone shouted from the entrance of the jet, while the rest followed by urging you to agree, making you groan in annoyance.
“Fine, yes Jungwon, of course it’s a yes!” you shouted and Jungwon’s smile only widened.
“Great, now Sunoo, do the honor,.” Jungwon said in a hurry as Sunoo approached you two while muttering curses under his breath.
“Does he even have a license?” you asked.
“I did, I got my license in Vegas,” Sunoo bragged.
“Las fucking vegas, great, just fucking great,” you cursed under your breath, finding the situation funny and unserious.
“Come on y/n, stop being dramatic, you two are going to get married either way. Now, stand in front of me, and wait — I need to find the script — whatever, do you Yang Jungwon, take l/n y/n as your lawfully wedded wife?” Sunoo started.
With that question, Jungwon grabbed the gold band from the box and with ease, slid it on your ring finger, fitting perfectly like it was meant for you.
“I do, in every universe,” he answered, giving you a smile that made your heart feel at ease in the midst of the mess you two are involved in right now.
“Wow cool, okay, do you l/n y/n, take Yang Jungwon as your lawfully wedded husband?” Sunoo asked, looking at you who held her breath throughout.
“For better, for worse, I do,” you answered without any hesitation. You grabbed the ring and copied Jungwon’s action. Seeing the ring fit on his finger, that’s when you realized that he had planned everything all along.
The only thing you should do is trust and be with him.
“By the power vested upon me, I may now announce you husband and wife, you may now kiss your bride and go board the fucking plane,” Sunoo announced and with that, the cheers erupted from the small crowd making you two laugh at the situation.
Jungwon didn’t waste any second. He pulled you close to him and sealed the marriage with a kiss. The kiss felt different, not because you two just got ‘married’ but because it felt light and affirming after conquering every obstacle your love faced.
As you two broke it off, you couldn’t help but to cry in joy as you looked at Jungwon. He’s here with you, alive, breathing, and you two may have ruined both your family’s empire, but it didn’t matter to you anymore especially when all you could think of was your future ahead with Jungwon.
“Let’s go?” He asked and you nodded, letting him lead you towards the staircase up to the jet.
“All set?” Yudai asked from the cockpit.
“Yup, we’re all good here,” Jungwon said as he put on your seatbelt before his.
“Where to?” Yudai asked while Euijoo closed the door.
“Iceland,” Jungwon answered and you were confused.
“Why there?”
“For our honeymoon?” he replied like it was a matter of fact.
You laughed at his answer. “Oh my god, you’re really convinced that we got married.”
“Our rings say otherwise.” Jungwon rebutted.
“Are we serious about Iceland?” Eujioo interrupted.
“Dead serious,” Jungwon answered before glancing at you. “Don’t worry, we have a lot of time in this world to get married, for real this time.”
You hummed, looking at him with your heart swelling with anticipation. “I would very much love that Jungwon.”
A few minutes later, the jet had taken off. You watched from your window seat how Seoul slowly became smaller and smaller until the only thing you could see was the sea of clouds under the blue sky.
That’s when you felt Jungwon’s hands intertwined around yours. He gave you a smile before giving your hand — the one with a ring on it, a kiss. You didn’t say anything but your heart and soul knows that you’re flying towards the future you were dreaming for with Jungwon.
No more hiding, no more hotel room meetups, and hushed conversations — starting from today, it’ll be you, Jungwon, and the whole world who'll witness your love.
゛warnings - smut, squirting, pet names, bigdick!hee, rough asf, new relationship, unprotected sex (don’t do that pls)
now that you and your new boyfriend, heeseung, have ‘done it’ a couple times, you’re used to it all. like how gentle he normally is with it. not today, though. not after he came home angry from something that happened at work.
now, he was gripping your hair so hard it would 100% make your scalp sore later, throwing your head back and forth over his dick while his tip slammed into the back of your throat until it hurt. you’d never seen him like this— not that you didn’t like it.
abruptly, he stops. “get on the bed.” you listen immediately, getting up off your knees shakily and hopping onto the bed. he puts his hand over your mouth to muffle the cry you let out as he slides halfway into you. “take it — fuck.”
you’re a mess. a sweaty, moaning, shaking mess. only half of his dick is inside of you and you already feel full. pulling back, he thrusts forward as far as he can until he meets resistance. you dig your nails into heeseung’s shoulders, your back arching and your head thrown back. “oh my god.”
“you feel so fucking good sweetheart.” your boyfriends size fills you all the way up with every thrust, both of you panting hard.
“heeseung— god”
“shit, say that again” he heaves his words out, panting for air.
“heeseung?”
he nods throwing his head back, pulling his hand down to rub circles around your clit in hopes you two would finish at the same time. but a newfound feeling circles your stomach. a bubble builds up that makes your back arch as he finishes along with you and lets his thrusts slow down. but it’s weird— you just finished and the bubble in your stomach is still there.
“nngh— fuck!” you can’t stop the dam from breaking, clear liquid flying as the feeling clears. heeseung looks down confused as he gets covered.
genre: childhood friends to lovers, smut, university-ish au
word count: 23.0k
warnings: smut (mndi), swearing, alcohol consumption, post graduation existentialism, the horrors of the modern job market, jealousy, insecurity, itty bitty age gap (reader is one year older), he’s obsessed he’s possessive he’s jealous but in a very jungwon way
note: I in fact did not keep it under 20k #oops. But I had lots of you in my comments and inbox telling me that you prefer longer fics anyway, so I hope you enjoy all 23k words of jungwon who years and pines over his childhood bestie <3
⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖
One year your junior and a constant fixture in your life since before you lost your baby teeth, Yang Jungwon has always existed in a category of his own. You don’t see him as a brother, but you don’t see him as a man. He’s just… Jungwon. Steady, reliable, consistent Jungwon who’s always there when you need him.
It’s why you feel comfortable admitting to him the latest addition to your list of post-graduation anxieties: dating. Namely, the fact that no matter what you try, you just can’t seem to make it work. To make a connection stick. But Jungwon, despite all of his typical predictability, doesn’t take your complaints quite the way you expect him to.
or, you tell Jungwon that you think boys just don’t like you and he doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything quite so ridiculous.
⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖
If you look at it from a distance and squint, there really isn’t anything wrong with Park Sunghoon.
In fact, if anything, he might be a little bit out of your league. With full lips, an easy smile, and long, dark hair that dusts over the angular planes of his cheekbones, he’s a sight for sore eyes. Especially since they are rather sore. Your eyes, that is.
You’ve spent the last week fine tuning your resume for all thirty-six job applications you fired off with crossed fingers and a silent prayer. Your daily screen time is reaching dangerous levels, and you doubt the blue light blocking glasses you picked up from the dollar store are doing much to mitigate the effects of it.
Life post-graduation has been like this, more or less. Six months ago, officially earning your university diploma felt like victory, like the end of a hard earned battle.
But now, you aren’t so sure. Not when the last one hundred eighty days have been nearly identical copies of monotonous despair, one rejected job application after another.
A cover letter here, a mission statement there, a detailed history of your personal opinion on the role of social media in modern society — that one had been for a marketing gig that you weren’t even interested in, not if the advertised salary were as low as the posting claimed. But at this point, you were starting to get desperate.
And still, it’s all been to no avail. Rejection after rejection. Ghosting after ghosting. Ridiculous, you think. These are hiring departments after all, not some frat boy you hooked up with last Friday after one too many shots of tequila. All your effort surely warrants at the very least a response.
But forty-seven of the eighty-nine jobs you’ve applied to in the last month seem to disagree.
And it’s not like you hate the part time gig you picked up at the flower shop a few blocks away from your apartment, but you didn’t work your ass off for four years, earning your degree in a specialized field, just to spend the rest of your life explaining the differences between roses and dahlias to men that piss off their girlfriends.
It’s disheartening, to say the least. Demoralizing. A rinse and repeat cycle that becomes more exhausting with each passing day, each unreturned email.
Most days, you feel a little bit like a shell of yourself. Hollowed from the inside out, just waiting for a scrap of decent news.
It’s why you only said no three times when Sophia suggested that maybe you break up the monotony with a little good, old-fashioned romance.
And not just romance. Dating, blind dating, because she swore the mystery of it all would make it more fun.
The first three times she suggested it, you waved her off easily with some half-witted excuse and a roll of your eyes.
But the fourth time, your friend caught you in a weak spot.
“Come on,” she’d insisted over an overpriced latte. She didn’t mind shelling out for a soy milk substitute, even. She was one of the lucky ones that managed to line up a job immediately after graduation, one she got from the third-year internship she had.
So Sophia had her big girl job and her big girl salary. You, on the other hand, were wincing at the bitter taste of drip coffee straight from the machine.
“I don’t know…” You’d trailed off, unsure. That morning, you’d received a rejection notice from a company you were genuinely excited about. The position matched your qualifications and professional interests to a T. You weren’t one to make premature bets, but when you clicked submit on the official application three weeks prior, part of you had felt like it was fate. A sure thing.
The email this morning proved you wrong.
Dear Candidate, it had started. Because of course, even after all the time you spent tailoring your resume to their standards, you weren’t even worth the effort of typing your name.
Thank you for your interest in joining our team. We regret to inform you that we have decided to move forward with other candidates at this time. If, in the future, other positions become available, please do not hesitate to apply again.
Rejection wasn’t anything new at this point, but this one stung. It felt personal.
You were tired of constantly hearing no, of always having every path blocked the second you worked up the courage to venture down it. You were desperate for something to take your mind off of it all.
You wanted to do something fun. And more than that, you needed a reminder that you weren’t a failure. That at least in some capacity, your time and your presence and your efforts were worth something.
If the only available context for that was a date, even a blind one, so be it.
“It’ll be fun,” Sophia insisted. “I promise. Besides, the guy I have in mind is really cool. He’s been at my company for a couple of years now, and he’s really friendly, even to the new hires. Comes off a little cold at first maybe, but I think he’s just a little shy. You’d like him.”
You still weren’t sold. You took another long sip of black coffee and winced at the taste of burnt beans.
“What was his name again?” you asked.
Sophia grinned, knowing she’d finally won. “Sunghoon,” she told you, smile entirely too smug for your liking. “Park Sunghoon.”
Now, a week later, you can’t help but curse yourself for caving. After all, blind dates are a far cry from romance, and the only thing that your time with Sunghoon is doing, lovely as he may be, is giving you a different source for your headaches.
Across from you, Sunghoon takes a slow sip of red wine. His eyes stay where they should. You can at least appreciate that Sophia didn’t set you up with a total sleaze. If anything, you think he looks a bit unsure when he meets your gaze.
After another moment of stilted silence, he asks, “What do you like to do for fun?” You watch as Sunghoon swirls his half full glass before setting it back down on the table. Aerating it, probably. He strikes you as the kind of person that isn’t entirely bullshitting when they say they know their wines.
It’s a perfectly normal question, run-of-the-mill for a first date. And yet, your mind can’t seem to do anything but come up completely blank.
What do you like to do for fun? Even privately, you're beginning to wonder. It’s as if the job search has taken any joy you used to find in your free time and turned it into existential dread.
You like to go for walks, but it’s been extra rainy these days and you hate how the late autumn air makes your skin feel sticky after just a few minutes. Not to mention the end of season mosquitoes. You swear they’re bigger than any other time of year.
You like to read, but the last time you opened a book for pleasure was half a year ago. You’re pretty sure that same exact novel is still sitting half-finished beneath your bedside table.
Cooking is nice for stress relief, you suppose, but your meals are more for function than show. You doubt Sunghoon wants to hear about the frozen spinach you sautéed last night.
You have been catching up on the latest season of a ridiculously staged reality TV show lately, but you can hardly own up to that. If an hour’s worth of catty drama and hair pulling every Sunday night is the first hobby you think of, Sunghoon will no doubt think you’re the most vapid person he’s ever met.
So instead you say, “Oh, you know.” You try a laugh, hoping it will make you seem easy going instead of cagey. “Things.”
Sunghoon just arches a brow. He doesn’t know. That’s why he asked.
And it’s not like it’s a crime to be awkward on first dates, but you’re starting to feel like you’d be given a life sentence without parole if it was.
Desperate to get his gaze off of you, you return the question. “What about you?”
Maybe the universe will spare you and Sunghoon will be equally bad at condensing his life into bite-sized pieces easily digestible on first dates. Maybe his good luck starts and ends with his face and he’ll be equally tight-lipped about his own interests.
But then, after a pause to gather his thoughts, he starts talking. Your hope for equal footing starts to circle the drain with more urgency.
“I’ve been really into exercising lately,” he tells you. “I grew up figure skating, so it’s been nice to get back to doing something more physical. It’s been great, too, trying out some new protein-focused recipes and getting out for runs when the weather allows it. I really miss the ice, but it just isn’t feasible with work and everything else these days. It’s been fun to try out some new hobbies that are somewhat similar.”
“Oh,” you flounder for a moment. It’s truly pathetic, you think. Maybe talking about yourself is difficult, but how are you so unable to even respond to his answers? “That’s nice.”
Sunghoon, to both his credit and Sophia’s, really does seem to be a nice guy. He’s trying. Doing his best to keep the conversation going.
“Do you like to exercise?” he asks.
You wonder distantly if following a YouTube video at home on yoga for stress relief once in a while counts.
Deciding it doesn’t, at least not to a former figure skater, you shrug. “Not really.”
“Oh,” he nods. After a moment of awkward silence, he asks, “What do you think about the wine?”
It’s a simple question, an easy question, but it’s hard to get momentum once you’ve lost it. To you, this date already feels a bit like a sinking ship and even a question as simple as this feels like a test you’ll inevitably fail.
“It’s nice,” you say. “Goes well with the food.” And unfortunately does very little to soothe your frayed nerves.
“I agree,” Sunghoon nods. “Apparently it’s made from grapes grown in a specific region of southern France. They get more sunlight than the average vineyard, and the soil is fertilized in some special way that makes the flavor more intense.”
He smiles at you, and it’s objectively gorgeous. The kind of look that you feel like you should be fawning over, that you should go home dreaming about.
Park Sunghoon is the kind of guy that feels made for fantasies. Thinking about it now, you’re not really sure how he could even be single, or how Sophia managed to convince him to see you tonight.
But no matter how long you wait for the butterflies to come, they just… don’t.
It’s not because you don’t like him, but the idea of getting to know him, of letting him get to know you, is suddenly exhausting.
You’re afraid that whatever parts of yourself you reveal will come up short, will inevitably be found lacking. Your hobbies aren’t interesting enough for a guy like him. You’re not particularly well-traveled or well-read, and you did well in your degree but not enough for it to be part of a dinner conversation.
You just… you don’t feel interesting. Not in the kind of way that guys like him are attracted to. So when you go home after another half hour of stilted conversation and too-long lulls of silence, you’re not daydreaming about his smile or his dimples or the second date he definitely won’t ask you on.
Instead, you wait until you’re out of eyesight to let the smile you’ve been keeping plastered to your lips fall from your face.
Looking out at the sky, the sun that’s beginning to set on the horizon doesn’t feel like an omen or a fresh start. It just feels like a sunset. The end of another day full of nothing special. Unremarkable. Ordinary.
You’re not giddy or excited or particularly moved at all. You’re not angry either, though. Not disappointed. If anything, you feel a strange sense of hollowness, one with a glare that’s especially apparent under the street lights that are just beginning to glow.
You miss the days when things felt exciting, when you would meet the eye of someone cute across a lecture hall and go home daydreaming about it. Spinning around your room, kicking your feet like a schoolgirl with a crush.
It’s not Sophia’s fault. It’s not even Park Sunghoon’s. But when you finally get back home to your apartment and flick on the lights of your empty bedroom, all you do is sigh.
…..
You thought that when you walked across your university stage six long months ago and were officially given your diploma, you’d be done drowning your post-midterm stress with cheap beer.
But you forgot to account for one small detail — Jungwon.
You suppose your friendship with him might look a little strange from the outside, but he’s been a constant in your life since before you even knew how to tie your own shoes.
Like most childhood friendships, it wasn’t forged of your own volition. Your mother decided the summer before you started kindergarten that her new favorite hobby was going to be gardening. Which was fine and all, except for the fact that she knew literally nothing about gardening and had killed just about every houseplant she ever owned.
To her credit, she tried. She asked the kind elderly lady working the till at the garden supply store for advice and bought the overpriced gloves and trowel she suggested. She scoured blogs and Wikipedia articles and online forums for all the best and latest in flower cultivation.
But your mother simply did not have a green thumb, and after months of watching from her window in silent pity, Mrs. Yang decided to do something about it.
She took one look at your mother’s wilted tiger lilies and sighed. Gently, because even in her exasperation she managed to be kind, a trait she passed onto her son.
You weren’t so interested in whatever she told your mom about fertilizer and shearing, though. Nor were you really interested in the garden at all.
But you did find the boy currently hiding behind Mrs. Yang’s practical work pants far more fascinating than anything you’d seen in months.
Before school started, finding another kid your age was like striking gold. An only child, you were doted on by your parents but only rarely had the opportunity to play with other kids. This one, even if he was determined to hide out of sight, felt like a gift, a friend you were determined to make yours.
Back then, he was a shy kid.
It had taken a fair amount of coaxing from his mother, but he finally found the courage to meet your eye. To come out from his hiding spot and introduce himself.
Jungwon, he said his name was, and you gave him yours in return.
You asked about his birthday and could hardly contain the smug smile that spread across your lips when you realized he was younger than you. A whole ten months. Practically a baby. Nowhere near ready to start kindergarten, like you were. He’d have to wait a whole nother year.
Other than the bragging rights it afforded you, you didn’t mind so much.
That summer, Mrs. Yang helped your mother turn her misshapen, weed-addled, overgrown mess of a flower bed into something truly beautiful.
And nearly every time she came over, she brought Jungwon in tow. The two of you weren’t trusted to wander far yet, but he made your afternoons far more interesting, even under the watchful gaze of your mothers.
He was excited about the same things you were — searching for bugs in the flower bed, digging in the dirt with the plastic shovel set you’d been given for your last birthday, and building homes for the fairies you convinced him really existed using fallen leaves and twigs.
Your friendship might have begun as one of convenience, but the long, sunny afternoons you spent together ensured that none of it was forced.
Your mothers were thrilled too. Both of you were overly curious only children, and it was nice to have your attention occupied elsewhere, to share private smiles at how sweet your little friendship was becoming.
They sighed when you came back from an afternoon of playing with dirt smudged across your clothes and cheeks and cooed when you fell asleep after washing up, sprawled out across your living room floor with pillows you’d pulled off the couch.
Even though you’d been anticipating it for months, the beginning of kindergarten was something you started to dread. And the further you got in your academic journey, the one-year gap between you started to feel less like victory and more like a curse.
You still remember the failed math quiz you brought home from second grade one afternoon, a big, red F written across the top even though you were usually excellent with times tables.
It had taken a fair amount of coaxing, but your mother finally got the truth from you. How you were thinking that if you managed to do poorly enough to fail the second grade, you could just do it again next year. With Jungwon.
Of course she explained to you how terrible of an idea it was, and you didn’t try it again, but for the next few months, every aced exam still felt a little bit like defeat.
Until the seventh-grade, that is, when you decided to fully embrace your role as his elder.
Jungwon was just starting middle school, after all. He was brand new to the world of lockers and passing periods and so much axe body spray it seemed to permanently hover outside the boy’s locker room like a rain cloud.
You made him pinky promise you not to buy any, and all he did was scrunch his nose in distaste, insisting that he never would, that he didn’t like strong smells anyway.
Jungwon might have been new to it all, but you, however, had already been this whole middle school thing for a year. You were one year older and wiser and could help him navigate all of the pitfalls with your hard earned expertise.
You thought it was the best idea ever, an example of your commendable generosity and kindness, until one Wednesday afternoon proved you entirely wrong.
You were hovering just behind him as he worked through his locker combination, weight shifted to one hip as you balanced your science textbook against the other.
Still a couple inches taller than him thanks to the growth spurt that had hit you early, you didn’t have to crane your neck too hard to see over his shoulder. To provide any assistance he might need.
Finally, after getting the combination right, his locker clicked open.
Jungwon sighed. Glancing back at you, he mumbled, “Why are you here? Don’t you have science right now?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, gesturing to the textbook in your hands. “But that’s okay. I don’t mind waiting for you.”
“I have math next,” he pointed out, as if you didn’t already know. As if you didn’t have his schedule memorized before he did. “Which is in the opposite direction. Just go. You don’t want to be late again.”
It’s true. You don’t. Your mom said she’d shave an hour off of your allotted Saturday cartoon-watching time if it happened again.
But it was okay. It was a sacrifice you were willing to make. You told him as much.
“That’s okay,” You shook your head. “I’ll be fine. Besides, Mr. Lee usually isn’t too strict about tardies, so—“
“Just go,” he interrupted, back still turned to you. This time, his voice was sharper than usual. It cut through the air like an accusation, leaving you more than a little shocked. “You don’t have to follow me around everywhere.”
You frowned at that. But still, you thought that maybe he was just worried about you, about whatever punishment your mother had promised. So, to ease his worries, you insisted, “I don’t mind. I’m a year older, so I should—“
“Ten months,” he corrected, voice like ice. And he still wouldn’t look at you. “You’re ten months older.”
Your frown deepened. “Thats the same thing.”
“No it’s not,” Jungwon shook his head, voice rising. His anger, his annoyance, were apparent now. “Stop treating me like a baby.”
“I don’t—” You tried to protest.
But he wasn’t having it. “You do.” He insisted. “You treat me like I’m a little kid and it’s driving me insane. The other boys on the taekwondo team think so, too. They’re starting to say things—“
“What kinds of things? Who?” It didn’t matter if he was angry or annoyed at you. As far as you were concerned, if anyone was giving Jungwon a hard time, it was your business too. You didn’t know the boys on the taekwondo team very well, but you were suddenly feeling very violent, a bad idea given that the boys in question were trained in martial arts and you’d spent no time on a training mat in all twelve years of your life.
“It doesn’t matter,” Jungwon shook his head. He still wouldn't turn around and look at you. “Just leave me alone.”
You’d had fights before. Little tiffs that started nearly the same day you’d met. But they were always small, just bouts of bickering that may have left you pouting but never with any truly hurt feelings.
This was different. This… this stung.
Just like the tears that started to gather against your lash line without your permission, pressing dangerously against the inner corner of your eyes.
Still, you couldn’t help but ask, a little pathetically, “You don’t want me to walk with you?”
“I don’t need you to follow me around everywhere,” he repeated, crueler than he had to be, “fussing over me like you’re my mom or something.”
“Fine,” was all you said. Suddenly, you were grateful that he wouldn’t look at you. If he saw how affected you were, that you were on the verge of crying, it would be more humiliating than you could handle. “Just walk by yourself then.”
Turning, you only paused once you were a few steps away. “And here,” you’d reached into your pockets, pulling out the coupons you’d cut out of the newspaper earlier this week, the surprise you were planning to show him after school. “You can just have these. Give them to your taekwondo friends, since you care what they think so much.”
Jungwon waited until you were around the corner to turn around, to see what you’d thrown at his feet. Bending, he picked them up, guilt swirling deep in his gut as he tucked the coupons for half price ice cream from the nearby shop, the one that you knew always had his favorite flavor, into his pocket.
You didn’t talk to Jungwon for a week.
You were late to class that day, partly because of Jungwon and partly because you had to spend the next ten minutes calming down in the bathroom stall while you wiped evidence of your tears away.
True to her word, your mom didn’t let you watch cartoons Saturday morning. And you spent all your extra time thinking about where exactly you went so wrong.
The silent treatment didn’t last long. You and Jungwon were like that — you’d spent so much time together that you’d learned how to get over things quickly.
Grudges never held for long, and time didn't need to pass too far for both of you to forget what you were mad about in the first place.
But this time, even after the dust had settled, things between you didn’t go entirely back to normal. For starters, you didn’t wait for him by his locker anymore, didn’t offer to walk him to math or science or P.E. or any of his other classes.
Even though the two of you shared a school, the only time you really saw him anymore was on the bus ride home. And that was only on the days he didn’t have taekwondo practice.
But with Jungwon, things had a way of coming back around. It wasn’t long before he was seeking you out intentionally again, before your friendship felt less like walking on eggshells and more like something comfortable.
But you had learned two valuable lessons that day by his locker.
One, Jungwon was sensitive. More so than you ever realized. In ways you didn’t always fully understand.
And two, the gap between your ages may have been small, but he really, truly resented any attention you brought to it. In his own words, he hated it when you made him feel like a kid.
So you learned. You adjusted. And by the time high school came around, you were practically a pro at ignoring the ten months that separated you.
There were still times that you wanted to guide him, to help him, but you did your best to hold yourself back. You tried to empathize, too. To see things from his point of view. It made sense, you supposed. Jungwon didn’t want a second mother. He just wanted a friend.
One that wouldn’t dote on him too much or smother him or embarrass him in front of his teammates. That’s not to say he didn’t use your age to his advantage on occasion, though.
When you got your driver’s license a whole year before him, he wasn’t shy about asking for rides. And when junior year chemistry proved to be harder than he thought, he accepted your journal full of meticulously taken notes with little more than a sigh of relief.
You didn’t mind so much. Besides, it wasn’t like you were the only generous one in your relationship. Friendship with Jungwon never felt like a burden, never felt like a debt to settle.
For all of your age-afforded privileges, he more than made up for them just by being there. Because Jungwon grew up in the way few boys do—he learned to observe, to listen before he spoke. To treat words like something precious and use them only when he really meant them.
Jungwon was your confidant, your most trusted source of advice. You went to him with things that you felt like you couldn’t tell anyone else, and he received it all with open arms and a thoughtful furrow of his brow.
Jungwon wasn’t the type to pass judgment. He just listened, contemplated, and then gave the best, most logical answer he could think of.
He talked you down from your spiral of self-hate after you convinced yourself a failed physics test was the end of your life junior year and helped you analyze the pros and cons of your top university choices when your high school graduation date started approaching with alarming speed.
Affection came easy between the two of you, because it didn’t feel complicated. It felt natural, just like the day he introduced himself amongst the ruins of your mother’s failed garden.
So when you told him, senior year, that you agreed with his advice, that you had decided to attend university in your hometown, a mere thirty-minute drive from the high school you were graduating from, all he did was smile.
He hugged you after you accepted your diploma from your principal and handed you a bouquet of flowers. He complained about having to stick around in high school for another year, and you assured him that senior year was different from the others. It was better.
Your year apart was difficult, but it also gave you space for things you hadn’t considered before. Things like other friends. You met Sophia at freshman orientation, and the two of you became inseparable.
You still saw Jungwon, of course. Weekends, holidays, and even the occasional weeknight dinner meant he was still very much a part of your life. And when you couldn’t meet in person, you talked. Texted. Called.
Which is exactly how you broke the news of your first ever boyfriend.
There had been crushes in high school, but they were fleeting. Insignificant. This was different. Jay was different, and just as you always had, you spared Jungwon none of the gory details.
You told him all about the flowers he bought you, all about how romantic it was when he asked you on a proper date. How sweet it was when he picked you up and opened the passenger door of his car for you and how special you felt when he picked up the dinner check without so much as a sideways glance at you.
But Jungwon, steady, reliable Jungwon, seemed to become uncharacteristically terse whenever Jay came up. His texts got shorter, his responses further and fewer between.
The calls that used to drag on for hours started ending suddenly whenever you brought up your boyfriend. Jungwon always had an excuse ready—he had homework to do or a project to finish or an errand to run for his mom.
But you’d have to be stupid not to notice the common denominator in it all. Jay.
For a while, the choice was easy. Jay was here, with you. He wanted your attention and your time. He liked hearing about your day and telling you about his and spending as much time with you as your schedules allowed.
Jungwon, on the other hand, was becoming more difficult to reach the longer your relationship went on.
Slowly, but steadily, Jay started to become the person you went to for advice. The contact name you searched for whenever you had something to say. The boy you spent your weekends with, making new memories, laughing about nothing.
You trusted him. You were new to it, the feelings, the rush of it all, but after a few months, you were pretty sure you loved him.
Jay was your first relationship, your first real boyfriend, and eventually, the person you trusted enough to lose your virginity to.
Which made it all the more devastating when he told you, sometime in the middle of spring semester, that he didn’t want to see you anymore. That he enjoyed your time together, but he didn’t feel the same spark you did. The same level of connection.
You cried until you were numb, and you were numb until one by one, your feelings started to come back in overwhelming waves. And every time they did, the only person you really wanted to see was your best friend.
The boy you barely even spoke to anymore.
You weren’t sure if he would even answer, the night you drove all the way to his house in the pouring rain. You stood there on his porch, pathetic, soaked from just the short walk from your car, when he opened the door and found you like that.
“Jungwon,” you breathed.
He hadn’t said anything, just pulled you inside. Checked the warmth of his shower until it was the perfect temperature and left a towel and a clean pair of clothes on the bathroom counter for you. Waited outside, on the edge of his bed until you emerged twenty minutes later.
Clean, dry, but with eyes so red he knew you must have been crying.
He didn’t ask you what happened. He just scooted back until he was sitting against his pillows, patted the space next to him in invitation. Pulled you tight to his chest as you sobbed, long heartbreaking sounds that tore from somewhere deep in you.
You eventually told him everything—your breakup, your heartbreak, the sudden loneliness it had left in its wake.
Jungwon just held you through it, wiping your tears and soothing your cries as you laid against his chest.
And you talked. For hours, about nothing, about everything. All the little things you hadn’t been able to tell him for months, all the parts of your life that you’d wished you could share with him.
As it turns out, you’d missed important updates from his life, too. For starters, he’d chosen a university. The same one you were currently attending. You were so excited that you’d be together again, but part of you hated it, the way you’d missed out on such important news.
That night, things shifted again. It didn’t matter what your relationship status was or what distance separated you—the two of you promised not to ever go so long without talking again.
The following September, Jungwon officially started university at the same school as you, and it was the most excited you’d been in months. You loved showing him around all of your favorite places, pointing out the secret study spots you’d found in the library, introducing him to all of your friends and the coffee shop you loved just off campus.
It felt natural, felt right to have him in your life again. Even when things got busy, when you were so bogged down with assignments and projects and internships, you did your best to make time for one another.
You didn’t date again, and if he did, you never heard about it. When friends asked, you always gave the same excuse. You were too busy. You were focusing on yourself. School was more important to you than a relationship right now.
But if you were honest with yourself, your relationship with Jay had left you with a unique set of scars. You were scared of falling in love again only to be met with rejection, of course, but you were also terrified of losing Jungwon. Of the way letting someone new into your life could mean pushing him away, despite what you’d promised each other that night in his bed.
It’s why you haven’t mentioned Sunghoon to him yet. It’s not a secret, exactly, but it’s also not something you’re dying to share.
Now that you’ve graduated, you can hardly believe you’re standing outside Jungwon’s apartment with a six pack of cheap beer dangling from your fingertips. But something about all of your recent failures has you desperate for a bit of release, and you’re sure he could use some relaxation after midterms, too.
If anything, you’re hoping it will come as a nice surprise.
You knock on the door to his apartment, beer dangling loosely from your other hand. But when the door pulls open, it’s not Jungwon who greets you on the other side.
“Hi,” Jake grins, leaning against the doorframe. “Long time no see.” Jungwon’s roommate of two years now, he glances down at the beer. “And you brought presents.”
“Not for you, Sim,” you shake your head. “Is Jungwon home?”
“Depends.” Jake grins. “Are you just gonna leave if he’s not?”
You sigh, do your best not to roll your eyes. You’ve been subject to Jake’s antics long enough to know not to take any of it to heart. A golden retriever in every sense of the word, flirting comes as natural to him as breathing.
You’d be more worried if he suddenly started talking to you like a normal person.
“Can you tell me when he’ll be back?” You really should have checked to make sure Jungwon was home before driving all the way, but you’d only decided to come last minute. Besides, you remember what midterms were like. You wanted it to be a surprise.
“What’s the rush?” Jake asks. When you don’t bother to dignify that with a response, he pivots, “What are you up to these days?”
“Just working,” you shrug.
“Yeah?” he asks. “How’s post grad life treating you? Is the grass really greener after graduation?” Like Jungwon, he’s still a semester and a half away from it.
You laugh, but it sounds forced even to your own ears. “Something like that.”
“You’re still working at that flower shop over in your area, right? I was over there the other day, and I almost stopped by to say hi, but I couldn’t remember for sure. Is it—”
“I thought you said you were on your way out,” a voice interrupts from behind him. Jungwon’s. You’d know it anywhere. “Who are you talking to?”
That little shit. He lied to you. Or at least heavily implied it.
Jake at least has the decency to look sheepish when he glances at you. Opening the door wider, he reveals your best friend. Dressed in a pair of grey sweats and an oversized long sleeve white t-shirt, his hair is still slightly damp. Recently showered, if you had to guess.
“Surprise,” you grin weakly, holding up the pack of beer.
“___,” he breathes your name, surprise flickering across his features. His gaze falls to your feet for a moment before dragging back up to your face. “What are you doing here?”
“Is it a bad time?” The beer falls back down to your side. You really should have checked with him first before driving all the way here. “Sorry, I just wanted to surprise you.”
“No,” he shakes his head. “Not a bad time at all. Come in.” Side-eyeing Jake, he looks almost surprised to see him, as if he forgot he was even there. Then, he confirms, “You’re leaving, right?”
“Yep,” Jake nods, a trace of amusement flashing through his eyes. “I won’t be back until late.” He glances between the two of you. “Like, really late, probably. Enjoy… whatever this is.” Turning to you, he adds, “And it was good to see you again. Don’t be a stranger, yeah?”
“Sure, Jake,” you agree. “Have a good night.”
“You too,” he smiles. “Have fun.” Pausing for a moment, he considers, “Not too much fun, though—”
“Goodbye, Jake,” Jungwon interrupts, something unreadable crossing his features.
Jake takes the cue well enough. Stepping past the two of you, he leaves the apartment. The door closes behind him with a silent click.
And then it’s just you and Jungwon.
“You brought beer,” he reaches to take the drinks from you, passing them from your hand to his. “And yourself. What’s the occasion?”
“Midterms,” you explain. “I thought you could use a night off after all that studying. Besides, it’s been too long. The last time I saw you was when we got coffee, and that was already—”
“Two weeks ago,” he finishes for you. “Yeah.”
“Do you want to drink?” you ask, suddenly afraid you’ve placed your bets all wrong. Maybe midterms weren’t exhausting in the way that makes him want to drown his sorrows in cheap beer. Maybe they were just exhausting in the way that makes him want to crawl into bed. “I can come back a diff—”
Jungwon shakes his head. “It’s exactly what I need.” He smiles at you. It’s tired, but it’s genuine. “I’m glad you’re here.”
And that’s all it takes, all the reassurance you need to slip off your shoes and find a spot next to him on the living room sofa that’s seen better days.
It’s quiet at first, the two of you taking long sips as you ask the standard questions.
You ask how he thinks he did on midterms, and he says he’d rather talk about anything else.
He asks about your job search, and a shadow crosses your features as you also request a change in topic.
One bottle turns to two, and before long, your limbs are feeling heavier, your lips looser.
Jungwon looks at you, already flushed from the alcohol. He parts his reddened lips like he wants to say something. Closes them again.
Then, finally, “I heard something,” he says.
“Mm?” you hum. There’s a pleasant haze in your mind. One that makes it difficult to give much of a response at all.
A beat of silence passes. Another. You glance over at him, a question in your eyes, only to find his gaze already trained on your face.
Eventually, he gets it out. “You’re going on dates again.”
The tension in your shoulders is immediate. You’re not sure if he heard it from Sophia or somewhere else along the grapevine, but you suppose it doesn’t matter much either way. You shrug, feigning nonchalance. You have nothing to hide, you tell yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong. “I went on one.”
Jungwon takes a long sip of beer, the foam settling heavy when he sets it back down on the table. “How was it?” he asks. His voice is infuriatingly neutral. You can’t get a read on him.
“I don’t know,” you shake your head. “Fine.”
Jungwon’s palm splays against his knee, flexes. “Are you seeing him again?”
You feel a humorless laugh rising in your throat, one you barely manage to contain. “Probably not.”
You can feel his eyes boring into the side of your face when he asks, “Why?”
You sigh. This time, it’s you that takes a long sip of your drink. “I don’t know,” you shrug. Pulling your knees in towards your chest, you suddenly feel smaller than before. “It just wasn’t…” your words die as you try to find a way to explain the feeling you’d left the date with. Coming up blank, you decide instead on, “I don’t think he wants to see me again, anyway.”
You swear you feel a fraction of tension ease from the air. Still, Jungwon’s curiosity doesn’t seem to be sated. “Why not?” More to make you laugh than to actually guess at Sunghoon’s intentions, he asks, “Did you spill something on him?”
Wincing, you remember every one-word answer you gave. “I don’t think I spilled enough.”
Jungwon frowns, the turn of phrase not landing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know,” you repeat. “Sometimes, I just…” You lean your head back, letting it loll against the back of the couch. “I just feel like boys don’t really like me, you know?”
If you were looking, you’d see the way Jungwon goes completely still. A moment of silence passes before he breaks it, voice lower, less airy than before. “What did you just say?”
Head against the couch, you let out a small sound, breathless, a little pathetic. “Don’t make me repeat it,” you beg.
But Jungwon isn’t quite ready to let it go. You see his silhouette in your periphery, turning to face you fully. Leaning in, his attention is on you and nowhere else. His voice has an edge to it that you aren’t quite sure what to do with when he asks, “What do you mean, ‘boys don’t like you?’”
All you can do is sigh again. “I’m just… I’m not really charming or cute or good at small talk and things like that. I always say something weird or put my foot in my mouth, and it’s like I can see them losing interest in real time.”
Jungwon blows a stray strand of hair out of his eyes. Glances at you. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”
“Jungwon,” you deadpan, “he asked me what my hobbies are, and I told him, verbatim, things.”
“Oh.” He pauses for a minute. Then points out, “Well, to be fair, that’s a horrible question.”
You frown. “It’s a standard first date question.”
“Yeah,” Jungwon agrees, “which is exactly why it’s horrible. No one wants to go on a first date and be asked all of the standard first date questions.”
You know that he’s only trying to comfort you, but something about him twisting the narrative so far in your favor just makes you want to sigh. You’re grateful for his defense, but it also feels a bit misplaced.
“How would you even know?” You try not to sound too mean, but the question comes out flat. “I bet you go on dates with those dimples and that…” you trail off, waving your hands noncommittally in his general direction.
Jungwon’s brows furrow. “You just gestured to all of me.”
“Exactly,” you nod. “You have that whole boy-next-door, easy going charm thing about you.” It’s true, and right now, you can’t help but think that it’s awfully unfair. “I bet you could ask whatever stupid standard first date questions you want and girls would still be falling at your feet.”
At face value, it’s a compliment. But there’s something about your tone, the trace remnants of sarcasm, of bitterness, that make him think otherwise.
“I’m not quite sure how to take that,” Jungwon finally tells you.
You sigh. You didn’t come here to project your insecurities on him. There might be layers of truth to it, but this isn’t his fault. You’re not being fair, and you know it.
“All I mean is that boys like you don’t have to try very hard. I feel like it all just comes so naturally to you. I wish I was like that, too. That’s all I’m saying.”
And Jungwon could protest, could launch into some speech about how you’ll find your person eventually, about how there’s someone out there for everyone.
But he knows you, is well-acquainted with that contemplative, overly self-critical look on your face. Can read all of your frustration and insecurity in the way you bite at your bottom lip.
You’re not looking for a lecture or false hope and certainly not empty words.
You came here with a case of beer and the intention to surprise him, to congratulate him for work well done.
He was the one that brought up the date, anyway. He knows that you’re not looking for advice. You’re looking for a friend.
So Jungwon waits for a moment before he says anything at all.
Then, he picks up your abandoned beer off the coffee table in front of you and holds it up to you. “C’mon,” he encourages gently, “join me.” He takes a sip of his own for good measure. “It isn’t going to drink itself.”
“I don’t know,” you sigh. “I already feel kind of—”
“I think I bombed econ,” he offers. You can’t tell if it’s true or not, but that’s not the point. He needs you out of your head. “Don’t make me drown my sorrows alone.”
You can’t help but think that for all the fuss he used to put up about you being older, he certainly doesn’t mind appealing to it when it’s to his advantage.
But even lukewarm beer looks tempting when it’s him that’s offering it to you. And you’ve never been good at saying no, at least not to Jungwon.
He knows it, too. Jungwon isn’t surprised when you accept the bottle from his hands with nothing more than a halfhearted grumble under your breath.
There’s no trace of shock in his eyes when you bring it straight to your lips despite your earlier protests.
He just grins before leaning back against his side of the couch, smile still stretching across his lips as he brings his own bottle up to join you.
…..
Thursday afternoons are your favorite time in the flower shop. Run by a kind woman in her late sixties, she takes advantage of the day to attend her weekly Zumba class at the senior center, which means you have the shop all to yourself, save for the occasional customer.
Usually, you’d savor the stillness. Use it to catch up on inventory or fulfill the handful or edible arrangement requests for tomorrow.
But today, the silence is making you jittery. Mostly because your mind won’t give you a moment of peace no matter how much you beg it too.
Despite the prediction you gave Jungwon three days ago in his apartment, Sunghoon did reach out to you again.
The message still sits at the top of your text threads like a curse.
I enjoyed our time together, he said. Succinct, straightforward, and all things considered, surprising. Are you free this weekend? I’d love to see you again.
And it’s flattering, so much so that you nearly find yourself agreeing without taking so much as a moment to think about it.
Sophia will be thrilled, you’re sure. And you won’t have to burden Jungwon again with tipsy confessions of your own insecurities.
But alone in the flower shop, another thought starts to creep in, just as your fingers hover above the keyboard. A feeling.
The same one you left from your last date with. That strange, hollow emptiness that had you spiraling for days, convinced there must be something deeply, fundamentally off about you.
Again, you start to wonder why you can’t just do it. Can’t enjoy a date and a free meal and the pleasant company of a handsome stranger. Why all of your answers always come out stilted, cagey, so terribly awkward.
Why you’re always waiting for the other shoe to drop, convinced that any scraps of attention that come your way must be part of some elaborate prank that the universe is playing on you.
Why even a barely-there, trace amount of vulnerability feels like nails on a chalkboard. Why you haven’t been able to form a real, meaningful connection with anyone since Jay. A relationship that ended nearly four years ago. It’s enough to make you feel a little pathetic.
Logically, you know that this is how it goes. You can’t form connections or welcome new things into your life without a leap of faith.
But the potential fallout is terrifying. The thought of trying, really trying, and still being found lacking is enough to sober even the most romantic of your fantasies.
Something about the status quo, no matter how boring or tiresome or monotonous, feels safe. Like a cage you’ve settled into and made comfortable.
Your fingers hesitate, then fall away completely. Locking the screen of your phone, you tuck it back into your pocket with a sigh.
Busying yourself with the arrangement orders, you do your best to push Sunghoon and his unanswered invitation from your mind.
For a while at least, you’re successful. The afternoon passes slowly.
A woman in her thirties comes, looking for a bouquet for her sister who just had a baby.
A man in his fifties wants to send flowers to his daughter’s office to wish her a happy birthday.
A couple comes in, hands intertwined, asking if your shop would be able to accommodate enough flowers for their wedding to be held at the end of the month.
You greet them, you smile, you answer their questions with patience.
And all the while, you leave Sunghoon’s question hanging.
As your shift draws to an end, late afternoon sunlight spilling through the windows, your phone buzzes in your pocket once more.
Half expecting to see a string of curses from Sunghoon, angry you ignored him, convinced you’ve wronged him, you're surprised when it’s Jungwon’s name that lights up your screen instead.
His short string of messages reads,
It was nice to see you again
Missed my favorite girl
Movie night this weekend at mine? Popcorn on me
Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, you can hardly stifle the smile that threatens to overtake your entire face.
Unlike Sunghoon’s, Jungwon’s message doesn’t fill you with dread, doesn’t leave you with a sudden flurry of doubts and questions clouding your mind.
And, unlike his, it’s easy to say yes to.
You wait only a fraction of a second before sending your reply.
I’ll be there
…..
The left side cushion of Jungwon’s living room couch is starting to feel familiar at this point. It’s been less than a week since you were last here, and it already feels routine sinking down into it.
When Jake steps out from his room minutes after you settle in, he doesn’t comment on his roommate’s company. Just arches a brow.
“You two drinking again?” he asks.
Apparently, he gave Jungwon shit for forgetting to clean up one of the bottles after last time. Ironic, considering it’s Jake’s dinner dishes that are gathering dust in the sink.
“No,” Jungwon shakes his head. Remote in hand, he flicks through streaming service options until he lands on the one he’s looking for. “Just watching a movie.”
Jake pauses, eyes flickering towards the screen. “Which one?”
“Not sure.” Jungwon shrugs. “___ chose it.”
You turn over your shoulder, telling him the title. It’s some rom com that’s been terrorizing your twitter feed for weeks now. And then you offer, “You can join us if you want.”
You’re not sure if there’s enough space on the couch for the three of you, but you are the one crashing into their space. You’ll make it work if you have to.
“That’s alright.” Jake shakes his head. “I’m heading out.”
“Alright,” Jungwon waves him off without so much as a second glance.
“See you later,” you offer, still turned around.
Jake grins, looking at you before he makes his way to the door. “Enjoy your movie. And nice to see you again so soon, ___. I was worried you’d make me wait again.”
Next to you, Jungwon’s jaw clenches. He mutters something under his breath about making popcorn before standing up from his seat on the couch.
Jake leaves before he can rile Jungwon up any further, and the smell of popcorn begins to fill the room just as the opening credits begin to roll. An overzealous pop song plays in the background, one you recognize from the playlist your boss makes you put on shuffle, insisting the corny, upbeat lyrics will convince people to buy more flowers.
Jungwon comes back to the couch, sets the popcorn bowl on the table in front of you. He adjusts, moving closer. His knee brushes against yours. Both of you pretend not to notice. Intimacy and closeness is nothing new between the two of you. Hell, you grew up practically attached at the hip, sleeping in the same bed until you were in middle school.
But there was always practicality to it, a purpose. You held hands at the amusement park because you didn’t want to lose each other in the crowd. You let him put his head in your lap when you had a picnic in the park because the only other pillow available was the ant-filled grass.
This feels different. Intentional. Especially since there’s still plenty of space to his left.
You lean forward, reaching for the popcorn. The fabric of your pants rustles against his. Settling back into your seat, Jungwon takes his turn to reach forward. But instead of grabbing a fistful, he takes the whole bowl, bringing it to his lap.
“Here,” he nudges you. “It’s closer this way.”
You nod. Right. Closer.
In front of you, the movie begins to unfold. Saturated color grading, wardrobe choices that already look slightly dated despite the recent release date, and a female lead that first impressions paint as adorably quirky, it has all the makings of a brainless plot. The perfect way to waste a Friday night.
And Jungwon, who usually insists on holding his tongue until after the credits have rolled, leans a little closer to you just past the twenty-minute mark. Unnecessary, given how close the two of you are already sitting. His arm, bare from the short-sleeve shirt he wears, brushes against yours.
And his lips nearly touch the shell of your ear when he whispers, “This is ridiculous.”
You frown. “What is?”
“The premise,” he hums. “I mean, why would they pretend to date each other? It doesn’t make sense. There are plenty of other things he could do to get back at his ex.”
You roll your eyes. Leave it to him to analyze the storyline like it was designed for anything other than mindless entertainment. “It’s the oldest cliche in the book,” you explain. “It’s for the plot.”
“It’s obvious,” he shakes his head. “They’re going to fall in love with each other.”
“Of course they are,” you agree. “But not every movie has to have a million twists and turns. Sometimes it’s just nice to know how things will end and enjoy seeing how they get there.”
“You like that?” he asks, voice low. “When things fall into place exactly the way you expect them to?”
“Sometimes,” you breathe. “It’s nice to not always have to guess.”
“Would you ever do that?”
Your eyebrows raise. “Fake date someone?”
Jungwon nods.
“No,” you scoff. “I can barely handle a real date, remember?”
You’re not sure what it is, but something in your answer must satisfy his curiosity, at least for now. Next to you, Jungwon is quiet once again. In front of you, the characters on screen continue to tiptoe around each other, dancing around the obvious.
The onscreen tension builds and builds and builds, all the way until it breaks. With a heated confession in the rain and the one aspect of a rom com you forgot to account for before choosing your movie for the evening.
You’re a grown woman. You have the degree and the age on your driver’s license to prove it. But the flush on your cheeks is undeniable as the two characters on screen begin to kiss.
And kiss they do. Jesus christ, you think, just how much of the budget was allotted to close up shots of their mouths?
As the scene begins to heat, so does the temperature of your skin. You’re half afraid Jungwon will feel it, scalding him through the layers of fabric between your legs that still touch. Part of you wants to screw your eyes shut, to reach for the remote and click fast forward just to end the agony, but you’re pretty sure that would be even more humiliating.
Instead, you keep your eyes glued to the screen. Watch unmoving, trying to appear unaffected, as the male lead tangles his fingers through her hair, tugging slightly as she stifles a moan against his lips. It’s so raw, so intimate, that you’re tempted to pull out your phone and confirm the PG-13 rating you swear it had.
It’s involuntary, the way you squirm against the couch cushions. The movement is no help. All it does is make you brush further against the one person you’re suddenly desperately trying to ignore.
The man on screen brushes his fingers under the hemline of her shirt, drags the fitted material upwards.
Without even really meaning to, you dare a glance at Jungwon.
And find him already looking at you. Staring at you, lips parted, eyes locked on the flush spreading over your cheekbones.
Quickly, your eyes drop to your lap, but the image stays burned behind your eyelids. You don’t dare to look at him again, not even once the scene has ended, when the plot becomes ridiculous again instead of heated.
Even once the ending credits start to roll, you keep your eyes trained on the screen, as if the list of assistant directors is something you find fascinating. But Jungwon has other plans.
He shifts against you, knee nudging yours. You hear his exhale, heavier than before.
A moment passes. Another.
Then, he finally tells you, “I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Immediately your mind starts to swim. Thinking about what? The unbelievability of the premise? The questionable casting choices? Or, worst of all, the kiss?
Out loud, you do your best to school your question into something neutral. “Thinking about what?”
“What you said,” he tells you. It soothes exactly none of your frayed nerves.
What have you said? You suddenly can’t remember. You search for a list of recent statements you’ve made and come up completely blank.
It feels like a conversation that’s going nowhere when you ask, “What did I say?”
Jungwon doesn’t spare a moment. “That you think boys don’t like you.”
Oh. Oh. Nearly a week ago now, your tipsy, self-berating rambling must have stuck with him. Well, that’s fine, you suppose. That’s something you can explain away now. Sober, even if your mind is still spinning a bit.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” you try to explain. “I was drunk and my words weren’t coming out right. I just meant that it was frustrating going on a date and leaving feeling like something was wrong with me, you know?”
Only after he’s quiet for a full thirty seconds do you dare a glance at him. Jungwon’s brow is furrowed, his lips pulled tight in contemplation. He parts his lips like he wants to say something, closes them again as if he’s thought better of it.
When he finally finds a statement to commit to, he says, “Maybe you’re going on dates with the wrong people.”
“Oh, definitely,” you agree. “But that’s the hard part, isn’t it?” In retrospect, it’s a big part of why you were so hesitant to accept Sophia’s offer in the first place, why she had to ask you, to insist, four times. “I feel like I have to go on so many terrible dates that make me feel like shit just to maybe eventually find someone I want to spend more time with. It’s not like I think there’s actually anything wrong with me, but I do feel like I have a harder time than other people. You know, making friends, going on dates, finding people I actually want to be around of my own volition.”
After already feeling so rejected from your job search, your headspace has been even more fragile. Dating doesn’t feel like stress relief for you. It feels like a reminder of all the things you wish were different about yourself.
Jungwon’s gentle when he shakes his head. “There’s nothing wrong with keeping your circle small.”
“No,” you agree, “but sometimes it feels like it isn’t really my choice. Like, even if I wanted to have more friends or go on more dates, it wouldn't pan out the way I want it to. Sometimes it’s just easier to keep to myself, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t times I wish I could be more outgoing.”
After another momentary lapse, another beat of silence, he asks, “What about me?”
A flicker of surprise crosses your features. “What about you?”
“You have an easy time talking to me,” Jungwon points out. “And I feel the same about you. We’ve been hanging out since we were kids, and I’ve never felt uncomfortable with you.”
“Really?” Your brow arches. “Even when I forced you to go down that waterslide in third grade?”
Even his mom had been surprised. He’d been terrified of that thing, apparently kicking and screaming against anyone else that tried to drag him down it. But when you, in all of your fourth-grade glory, insisted that he joined you, he just tucked his hand in yours, let you lead him all the way up the ladder even as his legs shook beneath him.
Jungwon smiles at the memory, a soft thing. But his eyes are still serious, his gaze still weighted. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah,” you sigh, “but that’s different.”
“How so?”
“Because…” you trail off, searching for an explanation. “Because you’re Jungwon.”
“Yeah.” The heat in his eyes doesn’t settle. “And?”
“And I’ve never had to think about it,” you shrug. “We became friends before I was even fully self-aware. You’ve always just been Jungwon.”
He’s quiet for a moment, considering. And then, “Can I ask you something?”
“I feel like you’re going to anyway.” It’s meant to be lighthearted, to distract from that strange bit of tension that still simmers.
Jungwon’s eyes don’t lose their edge. “Why did you start going on dates again?”
“What do you mean?” His question surprises you. “I just graduated from university. I’m young and unattached and all that. Isn’t this the time that everyone’s going on dates?”
“I suppose,” he concedes, “But I feel like that’s why you’re so frustrated.”
You frown, and he clarifies, “You’re going on dates because you feel like you should. Not because you want to.”
He pauses for a moment, gauging your reaction. Deciding your silence is permission enough, he presses on, “You’re not even sure what you want out of them or what an ideal relationship looks like for you right now. You’re just going and hoping something will stick, like throwing darts with a blindfold. Then you get upset with yourself when it doesn’t live up to your fantasy, even though you haven’t decided what your fantasy even is yet. I mean, why did you even meet Sunghoon? Because you really wanted to, or because you wanted to get Sophia off of your back about it?”
You feel exposed all of a sudden. Seen right down to your bones in a way you were prepared for. “I…” There’s a maturity to his question that you weren’t expecting, an edge you can’t quite decipher. You turn the question back to him instead of answering. “Since when did you get so observant?”
“I’ve always noticed you.”
“Jungwon…”
“So I can help you figure this out, too,” he insists. “Really,” he adds when you still look unsure. “Who knows you better than me?”
You can’t quite meet his gaze, and it’s all the confirmation he needs.
“Exactly,” Jungwon nods. “So I’ll ask you again, why did you agree to go on a date with Sunghoon?”
It would be easy to deflect, to blame Sophia’s insistence. Or to double down on your earlier statement, that this is the time in your life to try new things, to meet new people. That it felt natural to say yes.
But when you really think about it, the cold, honest truth is just that—
“I think I was just tired of hearing no all the time.”
Jungwon’s brow furrows. “Who’s telling you no?”
You sigh, try to let out an airy laugh that comes out choked, a little pathetic. “Only every hiring manager in the country, apparently. You know, I’ve been sending out job applications like crazy since graduation, but it's been six months now and the only thing I have to show for it is a stack of rejection letters cluttering my inbox.”
A flicker of understanding passes through his gaze. “So you’re compensating, then.”
You glare. “Don’t make fun of me.”
“I’m not,” he shakes his head. With the same tone you’ve heard him use to soothe a skittish kitten, he adds, “That must have been so frustrating. Putting in all that effort and not getting the result you wanted.” He knee brushes yours as he leans in closer, something unbearably earnest in his gaze. “You’ve been working too hard.”
“I haven’t been working hard enough,” you argue. “If I had, then something would have panned out at this point. I just need to—”
“There you go again,” he interrupts, shaking his head gently. “Assuming that it’s all your fault. Maybe the hiring manager was just an idiot, or you caught them on a bad day.”
“Yeah.” Your words drip with self-effacing sarcasm. “I’d believe that if it were one or two. But I don’t think over a hundred of them just happened to wake up on the wrong side of the bed the day they reviewed my application.”
It comes out sharper than you mean for it to. Settles into the air a bit uncomfortably.
Jungwon takes a moment to respond. When he does, he just sighs your name.
“I know,” you scramble for something a little lighter, “like, the economy is shit and all, and one day I’ll look back at this and laugh or whatever. But it just sucks right now, you know? I’m so sick of it. I really just wanted to hear someone say—”
“Yes,” Jungwon finishes for you.
“Yeah,” you nod. “Exactly.”
“Okay,” he nods, resolve tightening as if he’s made his mind up about something. “Then ask me.”
“What?”
Jungwon doubles down. “You can ask me,” he insists again, that same damn earnestness in his eyes, “anything you want me to do.” Meeting your gaze, he adds, “I’ll say yes. I promise.”
Against your will, you feel warmth starting to rise on your cheeks again. There’s something weighted in his promise, something desperate that simmers just behind it. Something that you have absolutely no idea what to do with.
Suddenly desperate for a reprieve, you do your best to break the tension. “That seems like a terrible idea.” You curse the strange breathlessness in your voice. Why are you like this? It’s just Jungwon. “What if I ask you to jump off a bridge?”
Jungwon just grins. “I’ll take my chances. Besides, I know I’m safe. You’d miss me too much.”
“You know,” you start, “for someone who thinks fake dating is ridiculous, this feels even more absurd.”
Jungwon doesn’t budge. “Just try it,” he encourages. “Ask me something.”
You sigh. “Jungwon…”
“C’mon.” He’s relentless. “Just once.”
“Fine.” You glance towards the bowl still sitting in his lap. “Hand me the popcorn.”
Picking it up, he ignores your outstretched hands in favor of learning forward, all the way until he settles it in your lap. His fingers remain against the edges of the bowl until he’s sure the balance is steady. Only then does he lean back into his own space.
“Easy.” He grins. Then his brow furrows, considering. “Are you hungry?” he asks. “I could make you some real food, if—”
“No,” you shake your head. Picking up a single piece of popcorn, you add, “Just wanted to do this.”
Throwing it square at his face, it bounces off of his nose harmlessly before falling to the carpet below. Jungwon’s nose scrunches in a knee-jerk reaction, eyes screwing shut before he opens them again.
“Maybe I was wrong,” his eyes are heavy-lidded, voice lower than you expect. “You are going to use it for evil.”
“Of course.” You reach for another kernel. “So maybe you should reconsider—”
Jungwon doesn’t say anything, doesn’t give you a moment to prepare for the way he wraps his fingers around your raised wrist, locking it into place before you can toss another piece of popcorn in his direction.
His grip is warm against your skin. Tight, something you’re not sure you’d be able to break out of even if you tried.
Still, you attempt to fling the popcorn at him. With the restricted motion of your wrist, it doesn’t make it far. It flies through the air for only a split second before falling uselessly down to your own lap, just in front of the bowl it came from.
“Nice try,” Jungwon breathes, your wrist still encased in his grip.
Your eyes narrow. “I do my best.”
“I’m sure you do,” he allows, “but you’re trapped now.”
There’s something strange in his gaze. Something heavy, weighted that you can’t quite place. Something that feels entirely too real.
You test it, the strength of his grip on you. True to his word, your wrist hardly makes it an inch, his fingers a vice around them.
“You’re ridiculous,” you breathe, voice airier than you mean for it to be.
“Maybe,” he agrees. A breath passes between you. Another. His eyes are still locked on yours, searching, like he’s desperate to find something. Another moment passes, and he releases his grip. Your wrist falls slowly back to your lap. “But I meant it.”
“I know you did.” You can’t quite make eye contact, but his sincerity is evident even as you place your gaze elsewhere. “Thank you.”
“Seriously,” he insists. “My schedule is a lot lighter now that midterms are done. If you ever want to do something or go somewhere or you just wanna crash for a night on my couch, you’re more than welcome to.”
“Did you get Jake’s approval for that?” You arch an eyebrow.
Jungwon’s voice is tighter than before, just slightly. “Jake will be fine." And then, still strained but a bit softer, “If there’s anything I can do for you, just let me know. Don’t make me wait two weeks to see you.”
Here, in the quiet of his living room, movie forgotten on the TV, it’s easy to agree to.
“Okay,” you whisper, regular speech suddenly feeling too loud, too abrasive. And then again, because you really do mean it, “Thank you, Jungwon.”
“Of course,” he insists, voice equally low.
For a moment, the two of you sit like that, legs brushing, you avoiding the eye contact he tries to maintain.
Then, Jungwon sighs, faces the TV again as he reaches for the remote. “Should we watch something else?” he asks.
You nod. “Something scary this time.”
Jungwon arches a brow. “You hate horror movies.”
Shrugging, you insist. “I’m in the mood for one now.”
He still doesn’t look like he quite believes you, but he doesn’t argue any further as he scrolls down, searching for the genre.
At his side, you’re quiet. It’s true. You do hate horror. But you’d take zombies and ghosts and jumpscares any day over the off chance of having to sit through another kissing scene tonight.
This time, Jungwon picks the movie. Learning back against the cushions, he reaches for a handful of popcorn.
The movie hasn’t started yet. There’s nothing on the screen to be scared of, but your heart thumps traitorously against your ribcage anyway.
…..
Two days later, you’re back at your favorite coffee shop. This time, though, it’s not Jungwon who sits across from you.
“So,” Sophia starts, and you already recognize that tone. Uh-oh, you think. “Sunghoon asked about you.”
“Why?” you ask, memories of your rather terrible date coming back unbidden. “To see if I’ve checked myself into an insane asylum yet?”
“No,” she glares. “Just to see how you’re doing.” She takes a sip of her drink, eyeing you over the rim. “Why didn’t you go on another date? He told me he texted you.”
That explains it then, you think. Him reaching out to you probably didn’t come from genuine interest. Maybe spending time with you felt like nothing more than a favor to his coworker. Maybe he was secretly relieved when you’d ignored his message. Maybe he only brought it up to Sophia to be polite.
Your eyes narrow. “Why are you so involved, anyway? You know, this is exactly why they say you shouldn’t shit where you eat.”
“I’m not dating him,” she points out. “And you two don’t work together.” It’s true. You’d applied for an open position a couple months back, actually. And, of course, had been promptly rejected. “That doesn’t apply.”
“Close enough,” you mutter.
“Why are you so against it?” she asks. “Did he suck or something?” Considering it, she’s quick to apologize. “Sorry. He always seemed so nice at work. A little shy, like I told you, but when he mentioned he was single, you were the first person I thought of. Did he say something weird to you or try to make you split the bill—”
“No,” you shake your head. “Nothing like that. He was perfectly nice. And polite.”
Her confusion returns. “So what gives? I didn’t expect the two of you to get married, but I thought you’d at least last a little longer than one date. Besides,” she leans in, voice lower but still not nearly quiet enough for what she’s about to ask you, “aren’t you practically shriveled up at this point? Did you take a vow of celibacy without telling me? When’s the last time you even had se—”
Eyes widening in panic, you interrupt her with an entirely too loud, too bright, “Hi, Jungwon!”
Frowning, Sophia turns back to look over her shoulder. Because there he is, the man in question. A surprising coincidence, perhaps, if you weren’t the one that introduced both of your friends to this cafe.
“Hey,” he grins, glancing between the both of you with his takeout cup in hand. “I thought that was you I saw over here.” Turning to your friend, he nods, “Hi, Sophia.”
“Jungwon,” she returns. Her gaze follows his, all the way from his eyes to yours. Settling back into her seat, she gestures towards the empty chair at your table. “Grab a seat,” she offers. “Join us.”
“Oh, that’s alright,” you glance at him apologetically. “I’m sure Jungwon has other—”
But he slides down into the chair without a hint of protest, your words dying on your lips.
“Sorry for interrupting,” he says. “What were you two talking about?”
You force a smile that looks anything but easy. “Nothing,” you insist, just as Sophia explains,
“____’s desperate need to get laid.”
“Oh my god,” you groan, flashing daggers at Sophia with your eyes as you pointedly avoid looking to where Jungwon sits on your right. “I did not say that.”
“So what?” she asks, either oblivious to your suffering or relishing in it. “You’re planning to be a nun forever?”
“I’m busy,” you deflect. “I have other priorities right now.”
“Busy people have sex,” she argues. “All that stress isn’t good for you. Like I said, you’ll shrivel up and—”
“Can we talk about literally anything else?” She has to know how embarrassed you are from the increasingly red shade of your face, how horrified you are that Jungwon can hear everything she’s saying. There aren’t many secrets left between the two of you, but the gory details of your nonexistent sex life isn’t something you’re exactly dying for him to be privy to.
Sophia leans back, some of the urgency of her insistence fading. Still, she’s not quite done. “I’m just confused,” she explains. “I mean, Sunghoon was kind and a gentleman and more than willing, if the way he keeps hounding me about you is anything to go by. I just don’t get it.”
Slowly, you brave a glance at Jungwon, who’s kept quiet this whole time. Maybe, at least, he shares some of your embarrassment, avoiding your gaze just as pointedly as you avoided his.
But when you turn towards him hesitantly, Jungwon is already looking at you. There’s nothing shy or avoidant as his eyes rake over you. And there’s no sign of embarrassment, no telltale flush, no fidgety shifting.
Jungwon’s just looking at you. With a cool, steady stare. Like he’s assessing you, clicking puzzle pieces into place.
When he finally breaks eye contact, it’s to look at Sophia. “Leave her alone,” he defends. His tone is light, teasing. But there’s an edge there. Something that doesn’t leave space for an argument. “She’ll find someone when she’s ready. Park Sunghoon isn’t the end all be all of men.”
“No,” Sophia agrees, “but surely he’s better than your left hand and the vib—”
“Oh my god,” you’re begging this time. “Stop.”
“What about you?” Jungwon asks, and both of you turn to him in surprise. When your eyes land on him, he’s looking at Sophia, not at you. “How’s your love life looking these days?”
“Love life…” She trails off, shrugging. “Nothing to report. But I haven’t joined your girl here,” she nods towards you, “at the convent yet. In that regard,” she grins. “I’m perfectly healthy.”
“Good for you,” Jungwon nods. “And the job is still going well?”
“Yeah,” she nods. “It’s not confirmed yet, but there’s a rumor that I might be in talks for a promotion next quarter. I’m…”
Her words trail off as you zone out, some of the adrenaline fading, the tension draining from your shoulders.
Not for the first time, you feel extremely grateful for Jungwon. It’s subtle, but it’s enough. And to you, it’s obvious. The way he maneuvered the conversation away from you. You’re sure that your discomfort wasn’t difficult to pick up on, but the way he handled it makes you appreciate him that much more.
Morbidly, you wonder what he thinks of your glaring lack of a sex life. Ever since Jay, you’ve kept the details of your relationships, or rather, lack thereof, close to the chest where he’s concerned. And even when you were with Jay, intimacy was never a topic you breached with Jungwon.
The thought has a flush starting anew on your cheekbones. You do your best to dismiss it.
Next to you, Jungwon keeps his eyes on Sophia, nodding at the appropriate times, commenting in a way that proves he’s listening.
But beneath the table, the warmth on his palm finds your knee. Without breaking conversation or giving even the slightest outward hint that his mind is anywhere besides your friend’s story about her boss’ most recent rampage, he squeezes.
Once, gently. Just to let you know that he’s there.
You fidget, and he does it again. This time, he can’t quite help the grin that spreads across his lips.
…..
Despite everything, you can’t shake the feeling of Jungwon’s hand on your knee beneath the table. Days pass, and in quiet moments, if you give your brain enough leeway, it always wanders back there.
To his easy, subtle defense of you. To the way it seemed so natural for him to soothe you silently with his touch.
To the way he looked at you, considering, evaluative, while Sophia laid out the gory details of your fruitless sex life on the table.
And maybe she was right to question you so thoroughly. Maybe it really has been too long, because that’s the only feasible explanation for the thoughts you’re having now.
It’s only natural, you suppose. Jungwon has been a constant in your life, a steady presence, for nearly as long as your memory extends. He’s been there through it all, your worst moments, your best memories. He’s seen all of it, knows you like the back of his hand, and he’s stuck around for it all.
For someone with an intense fear of rejection, it means more than you can say. You can’t think of anyone in this world that you trust more than him.
And intimacy… Intimacy is just an extension of that, you suppose. Being close with someone in that way is the ultimate act of trust.
Maybe that’s why things felt so stilted, so disjointed with Sunghoon. You had nothing against him, but you also didn’t know him at all. Trust is something that takes time, effort. How could you let your guard down with someone you had just met?
It’s just nerves, you’re sure. You’ve been out of practice since Jay, and with each passing day, that relationship just feels further and further away. A distant memory that you can’t recall well enough to guide you now.
Maybe if there was someone you really trusted, someone that you could just practice with, then—
No. You shake your head, dropping the thought as quick as it comes. It’s insane. It’s the exact opposite of everything your relationship with Jungwon has been for the last eighteen years of your life.
Still, when a message from him lights up your phone screen a handful of hours later, it takes you a full minute and a string of deep breaths to convince yourself to open it.
And when you reread the text, an invitation to drive out to a lesser known lookout where the two of you used to go to watch the sunset in high school, you agree easily. If your heart is beating a little too fast in your chest, well, you suppose no one ever has to know about it.
Years ago, you were the one that discovered the outlook. After a particularly awful day, due mostly to your terrible junior year biology teacher, you’d put your newly acquired driver’s license to good use. You had no destination in mind. You were still new to driving and liked the way that it felt, liked the way it seemed like you could outrun any problem if you just drove far enough.
A series of wrong turns led you straight to a forested area not too far from the highway. Jutting high out over a nearby valley, the scene you found sprawled out in front of you was gorgeous.
It was early spring, then. Flowers were just beginning to bloom, glowing in the late afternoon sun. You shifted the car into park, shutting off the engine. And then you sat, for hours, just looking out at all of it.
As the sun faded on the horizon, so did the most pressing of your worries. Looking around you, biology class had begun to feel a lifetime ago.
You realized that day that you found somewhere special, somewhere that you wouldn’t be willing to show to just anyone. Even then, there was only one person you thought you’d ever share the view with, that you’d ever let into your private little sanctuary.
So, one month later, when Jungwon came to your house after school with a crease between his eyebrows that usual methods couldn’t seem to soothe, you offered him the passenger seat of your car and the view you’d been keeping all to yourself.
That day, it became his too. And a tradition of sorts began to form. Whenever either of you was stressed or upset or just needed to get away from it all, you had a shared place to escape to. Somewhere that felt out of reach from everyone else. Somewhere for just the two of you.
You haven’t been back there with Jungwon for the better part of a year. Part of you is a bit worried as you see his car pull up from your apartment window—this time, he’ll be the one driving—that something happened.
After all, the two of you usually saved the outlook for difficult times.
But as you slide into Jungwon’s passenger seat, the only thing he greets you with is an easy smile.
“Good day?” he asks, handing you his phone so you can pick the playlist for the drive.
“Fine,” you nod, settling for an R&B album you know you both like. “What about you?” you ask, still wanting to dissuade your earlier concerns. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he nods, craning his neck as he checks for cross-traffic before pulling onto the main street. “I just wanted to see you. Thought it might be nice to go somewhere quiet. And it’s a beautiful day.” He looks towards the cloudless sky. “I thought the sunset would be nice.”
The drive goes quickly as you pass familiar streets, reminiscing as memories coming back at every turn.
“Oh my god,” you say as one comes back suddenly. “Remember that time we drove out here because James rejected me at junior prom?”
Jungwon frowns. “James was an idiot.”
It rings true in hindsight. “Yeah, but I was devastated. I cried so hard I got snot on my dress.” It’s easy to laugh at now, even if the sting was unbearable in the moment. “No wonder he said no.”
“He said no because he was a dumbass,” Jungwon argues. “Besides, it can’t be worse than the time we came here because I didn’t make the taekwondo competition team.”
Something about the memory, even now, makes your heart clench a little. “That was just sad,” you tell him softly. “You were so disappointed.”
“I got over it,” he shrugs. “The dartboard you made of my coach’s face helped.”
“Oh my god,” your eyes widen. “I forgot about that.”
Jungwon smiles like it’s a fond memory. “You were so violent.”
You shake your head. “Only for you. I don’t think I’d ever wanted to hit someone more.”
Trading memories like secrets, the two of you eventually reach the right exit. Pulling off the highway, the air around you immediately feels more still. Calmer.
And when Jungwon pulls right up to the overlook, shifting his car into park and shutting off the ignition, things feel just like you left them.
The sun is getting close to the horizon now. The valley that stretches out beneath you as far as the eye can see glows in the last rays of daylight.
Your gaze stretches out too, welcoming that sense of familiarity. “It looks the same,” you whisper.
“Yeah,” Jungwon agrees. “It does.”
Returning here now makes times feel sharper, more obvious.
“We’ve been coming here for what, six years now?” You shake your head. “I can’t believe it’s been that long. I can’t believe I graduated. Like, I’m just done with university now. I still remember when it felt so far away.”
“Yeah.” Jungwon nods, eyes on the horizon. “Me too.”
For a moment, the space between you is silent, the air filled with nothing but the sound of your quiet breaths.
You weren’t the one who asked him here, but if there was ever a place to admit the worries in your mind, you suppose it would be now.
Quietly, you say, “Can I ask you something?”
Jungwon turns to you, attuned to the serious tone of your voice. “Of course.”
“If it makes you uncomfortable, you can tell me,” you promise. “I know we don’t really talk about this kind of stuff usually, and—”
“___,” he interrupts, “Ask me.”
You take a breath. You can feel his gaze on you, but you can’t quite look him in the eye when you ask, “Do you think Sophia was right?”
“About what?” His shoulders stiffen. “Sunghoon?”
“No,” you shake your head, and the tension loosens, but only slightly. “About me.”
“What about you?” he breathes.
“That I…” you trail off, searching for the right words. “That it’s been too long since I was with someone.”
Even now, you can’t bring yourself to say it. To call a spade a spade. Jungwon reads between the lines easily enough.
He shakes his head. “It’s your choice to make. Yours and no one else’s, for whatever reasons you want. Don’t let Sophia make you feel bad just because her choice is different from yours.”
“I know,” you sigh. “But sometimes I think she’s right. That the longer I wait, the more difficult I’m making things for myself, like I’m just making the hurdle in my mind bigger and bigger. I mean, the last time I was with someone, you know, like that, was with Jay, and that was already—”
Jungwon’s inhale is sharp. “It was?”
“See?” you frown, mistaking his surprise for confirmation of your fears. “It’s been so long. Too long. Even you think so.”
“I don’t—” he tries, shaking his head. Now Jungwon’s the one scrambling for words. “I don’t think it’s been too long. I was just surprised,” he says. “That’s all.”
“Yeah, surprised because of how long it’s been.” You laugh humorlessly. “Now even you think I’m a nun.”
“I don’t think that,” he shakes his head. “Like I said, it’s your choice.”
“Is it though?” you ask. “The more time passes, the more I start to think that the cards just aren’t stacked in my favor.”
Jungwon frowns. “What do you mean?”
Your palms splay against your lap. The last rays of sun stretch over the valley, and your words are spilling out before you can stop them. “Maybe Sunghoon only acted interested because of Sophia. Maybe every time anyone has expressed interest, it hasn’t been genuine.” You sigh. “It’s like, logically I know that’s just the insecurity talking, but the more time passes, the harder those thoughts are to shake.”
For a moment, Jungwon is quiet. When he speaks again, his voice is low, serious. Pleading for your understanding. “___,” he says, “you’re beautiful. Truly. Any man would be lucky for even the smallest piece of your time or attention. I know that it’s hard sometimes, and that those voices and doubts can feel so loud, but I really wish you could see yourself the way other people do. The way I do.”
“Jungwon…”
“If you decide to have a relationship with someone, one of any nature, then it should be because you want to, not because you feel like you have to or because you’re trying to prove something.”
“What if I never get over it?” you ask, voice small, hardly a whisper. “What if I never get past this fear?”
“You will,” Jungwon promises. “It might not happen as fast as you want it to or in the way you expect it to, but you will.”
It’s so him, you think. So Jungwon to have more faith in you than even you ever could. He’s been here since the beginning, and he’s not going anywhere. He’s seen you face obstacles and challenges before, and he’s always done everything in his power to help you overcome them.
Maybe this is no different. Maybe the only thing you ever needed was some help from Jungwon.
Maybe…
No. Even with your logic twisting things to your favor, you know that this is different. This is different from asking for a favor or some moral support. If you ask Jungwon to do this for you, you’re crossing a line. One that you’re not sure you’d be able to come back from.
The friendship you have isn’t just something you’re unwilling to risk. It has quite literally become something you don’t know how to live without. You’ve never had to try, never even had to imagine a life without Jungwon at your side.
The only time that came close was during your first year of university, during your relationship with Jay, and that had been nearly enough to wreck you. The potential fallout from this could be worse, so much worse. You won’t risk it.
But then, unbidden, your mind supplies a memory. One from his couch, little more than a week ago.
“You can ask me,” he’d told you, earnest in his delivery, “anything you want me to do.” He said it himself. He promised you. “I’ll say yes.”
So, before you can lose your grip on the last remnants of courage you have, you ask, “Would you ever…”
It’s as far as you get before your bravery fails you, words trailing off into nothingness.
You wish you could take them back when Jungwon asks, a little breathless. “Would I ever what?”
You shake your head. “It’s nothing. It’s stupid. Just forget I said anything.”
But he won’t let you get away so easily. “Ask me.”
And you swear, it’s like he knows. His gaze bores into yours, searching, pleading, desperate, like he can see you all the way down to your bones. Like even the most secret of your thoughts have been laid bare before him.
“___,” he whispers your name. “Ask me,” he repeats.
“I just…” Your eyes screw shut. You can’t bring yourself to look at him. “What if we…”
“What if we what?”
You open your eyes, but only to look down towards your lap. “I trust you,” you whisper. In the silence of his car, it feels like you’re shouting. “More than anyone. Maybe I’ll be able to get over that hurdle in my mind if I just let you—”
“Let me what?” he asks. “Touch you?”
The breath you draw is ragged, shallow, as he hits the bullseye with little effort. Your fingers find a loose thread on the sleeve of your sweater. You know better, but you pull anyway. “Yeah,” you exhale. “If you…” You can’t look him in the eye, even now. It’s hardly a whisper, but you can’t bring yourself to say it any louder. “If I let you touch me.”
Jungwon’s inhale is sharp, his shudder involuntary. He leans across the center console, closer to you. Closer, closer, closer, until he stops, lips parting, face inches from yours.
He takes a deep breath in, holding it as his eyes search your face even as you keep yours turned down. Your heart hammers in your chest so violently you think it must be trying to escape. You still can’t look at him.
Jungwon’s breath escapes him in a shallow huff, dusting across your cheekbone. He lingers there for a second, like he can’t stand the thought of distance.
Then, without a warning, he sits back in his seat, knuckles white against the fabric of his jeans.
“I can’t,” he tells you.
You look up, eyes widening in surprise. “What?”
“I can’t,” he repeats. This time, he’s the one avoiding eye contact. You search his features for anything, any kind of explanation, but all you find is the tense set of his jaw, the heat that still simmers in his gaze. The restraint holding him back.
And suddenly, shame flashes through you. White hot humiliation that stings all the way down to your bones. It was one thing to imagine rejection from faceless men. But feeling it now, from him, from Jungwon, is so much worse than anything your mind ever conjured.
Trying not to let accusation sit too heavy in your tone, you whisper, “You promised.” It’s so pathetic, but there’s nothing left of your pride at that point. “You told me you’d say yes to anything.”
Jungwon flinches. “And I’m trying,” he tells you, an edge to his voice that sings with desperation. “Believe me, I am. I’m doing my best to make this about you, but…”
“But what?” You scoff. “You changed your mind? The thought of me like that is so repulsive you have to—”
“No.” He won’t let you finish. “But you’re sitting here, looking at me like you’d do anything for it, like you need it, and I can’t just say yes and give it to you because I do too.”
Your anger subsides, replaced with confusion. “What do you—”
“I need it too.” Only then does he meet your eye. Wide in the dying glow of lingering daylight, he’s begging for a bit of your understanding. “I’m trying to be selfless, but if I touch you, that won’t be just for you.”
Your brow creases. You still don’t get it. “I don’t—”
Jungwon releases a shaky exhale. “I’ve been thinking about getting my hands on you since I was old enough to know what it meant. Since I was old enough to want things like that at all.”
It’s all too much, too sudden. “Jungwon, what—”
“I know that you still think of me as the kid you grew up next to, and I’ve been doing my best not to shatter the illusion because you like me like that. But you come home from a date telling me it didn’t work out, telling me that boys don’t like you, and all I can think is good.” His hand curls into a fist, knuckles white. “I could do it so much better anyway.”
“I didn’t…” You shake your head. It doesn’t make sense. “You never—”
But Jungwon isn’t done yet. “You’re sitting here asking me to touch you, but I— fuck, ___. I can’t. Not when you’re only asking because you think it doesn’t mean anything to me. That it won’t change anything for me. You tell me that you trust me, and it’s the sweetest thing about you. I can’t take advantage of that.” His breath is practically heaving now, like he’s just finished running. “I can’t use your trust and break it like this.”
The sun dips past the horizon. The only lingering remnants of daylight cast his face into a gentle glow. Even as shadows begin to trace his features, he’s still Jungwon. Your Jungwon. But no matter how many times you spin his words through your mind, you can’t form them into something you understand. Something you have any idea what to do with.
“I…” It’s so confusing. It’s entirely too much. All you can think is, “Why did you never say anything?”
Jungwon laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Would it have changed anything? I know you. You run when you get scared. You like me like this, your harmless little friend. You said it yourself, you think you know everything about boys like me. And you needed a friend. So that’s what I’ll be. Your friend. But I can’t say yes, not to this.”
“What if—”
“Don’t,” he cuts you off. “I know you think I can handle anything, but don’t tell me things you don’t mean.”
“Jungwon,” you try softly.
His fingers wrap around his steering wheel, knuckles turning white. “Just let me drive you home,” he pleads.
“But—”
“Please,” he whispers, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so broken. “I know it was too much, that it’s not fair to you, but I can’t… I don’t think I can look at you right now and see all that confusion. So just,” he begs again, “please. Let me take you home.”
You want to press the issue, want to keep going until you have even a small fragment of understanding to call yours, but Jungwon is no stranger to making sacrifices for you. It seems he’s been making even more than you ever realized.
Tonight, right now, you can do the same for him.
“Okay,” you whisper.
The drive home passes in silence. Heavy, thick, uncomfortable like a blanket on a sweltering summer night. Neither of you bother to turn on the music this time. The only company to the quiet are the thoughts spinning through your mind, the moon that begins to shine as dusk turns to night.
Still, as he eases into the driveway just in front of your apartment, you can’t help but whisper, “Good night, Jungwon” as you step out of the passenger seat.
Whatever has passed between you, whatever terrible precipice the two of you have just fallen from, he doesn’t seem to be able to either.
“Good night, ____.”
By the time you make it inside, he’s gone. You know it will be, even before you check for his car from your bedroom window.
…..
“Um,” you begin, entirely unsure how to start the conversation. Across from you, Sophia sits on her favorite kitchen stool, scrolling through her Instagram feed while you wait for the pasta water to boil. “Something happened.”
“Mm?” She hums halfheartedly, eyes still trained on her phone screen.
Your words come out too fast, like you’re in a rush to have them over with as quickly as you can. “I was with Jungwon a few nights ago, and—”
“Oh my god,” she interrupts as she finally looks up, phone forgotten as she sets in on the counter. “You two finally hooked up?”
“What?” Your face pales at just how close she is to the truth. “Why would you even ask that? We’ve never even come close.” Well, of course, except for the incident you’re currently trying to explain. That you’ve been tiptoeing around for the better part of a minute.
“Are you kidding?” Sophia deadpans. “That boy looks at you like he wants to eat you.”
You splutter. “He does not.”
Sophia rolls her eyes. “He wouldn’t look at me for a week after I set you up with Sunghoon. And I thought he was gonna kill me that day he saw us at the cafe. All I did was mention the possibility of you having sex with someone that wasn’t him, and it’s like he was writing my name on some imaginary death note.”
“You don’t even watch anime,” you point out.
“I know the reference,” she argues.
Then, something more pressing draws your attention. “You did it on purpose,” you accuse, realization dawning. “You kept pushing the subject that day to see how he’d react.”
“No,” she denies, shaking her head. “I really do think you should put yourself out there more. Whether it’s Sunghoon or him or someone entirely different. Although,” she considers, “it is always kind of fun to see him get like that. Jungwon’s one of those people you don’t really expect it from, you know? He’s always so calm and collected. But I don’t know if I’ll try it again,” she looks at you, faking a shudder. “He’s scary when it comes to you.”
Any other day, in any other situation, you’d protest. You’d insist that Jungwon is entirely unaffected by you and your romantic choices. That Sophia must have been imagining things that day.
But Jungwon has already basically confirmed every last one of her claims, whispered them to you himself from the secrecy of his driver’s seat.
It’s the reason you invited her over today. To talk. To get a different perspective. To help you work through what happened.
Now, though, you just have a question.
“Why…” You still can’t wrap your mind around it. “Why did no one ever say anything?”
Sophia senses the shift, the way you go from defense to acceptance. From arguing to spiraling.
“Oh, ___,” she pouts. “My poor, sweet, oblivious ____.”
“I’m not oblivious,” you argue.
“Not usually,” she agrees. “But it’s like you have this blind spot when it comes to him. He’ll be in the middle of undressing you with his eyes and you’ll start telling some story about the matching diapers your moms bought when you were babies.”
“They were pajamas,” you correct.
“Whatever,” Sophia waves it off. “The point still stands. That boy wants you. Like, biblically.”
It’s consistent. It’s as much as Jungwon himself told you himself. But something about it makes you feel so terribly defeated, so completely unaware of everything you thought you knew about your friendship. About him. About yourself.
A bit helplessly, you ask, “What am I supposed to do?”
Sophia takes one look at you, at the dejection clouding your features, and sighs. “Can I be honest with you?”
You nod.
“I think you’re asking the wrong question. It’s not about what you’re supposed to do. It’s not about what Jungwon wants or what I think about your weird, sexually charged friendship.” Then, she asks the million dollar question, “What do you want to do?”
But that’s exactly the problem, you think, because, “I don’t know,” you admit. “I mean, I’ve never thought about it. He’s always just been Jungwon to me.” Pausing for a moment, you suppose you have little pride left to lose. You might as well be honest. “But the other night, when I was with him. I started thinking about… things.”
“Things,” Sophia repeats. She leans in closer, resting her chin against her palm as she asks, “What kinds of things? Feel free to be graphic, by the way.”
“Sophia.”
She pouts sympathetically. “You might not know right away. You’ve spent your entire life thinking of him as some untouchable, sexless entity. Which is kind of crazy, by the way. Like, have you seen the guy?”
You sigh. “Sophia—”
“I’m just saying, it might not happen overnight.” She looks at you, and you feel a sudden surge of gratitude for your friend. She may be wildly different from you in more ways than one, but she means it when she says, “It’s okay. Jungwon will understand, too. If you need some more time to decide if you want to jump his bones or not. He’s probably already been waiting since, like, junior prom. What’s a little longer?”
A little longer, you think. Part of you already spins with doubt, waiting for someone else to supply exact answers. How long is a little longer? When should you make your decision? How long is it supposed to take for you to know if your best friend of eighteen years is meant to stay as just that, or if the relationship between you has been building, slowly, surely, undeniably, into something else this whole time?
But you suppose that’s what Sophia means when she says it’s okay. What Jungwon meant when he told you it was alright to do things at your own pace, on your own time. You don’t need someone else to decide for you.
The difficulty isn’t a flaw—it’s a sign that this decision is one that matters to you, one that’s worth taking your time with.
So you do.
You think about it while you fine tune your resume for yet another job application. You think about it while you snip thorns off of roses at the flower shop, humming along absentmindedly to the playlist in the background.
You think about it in the shower and while you dinner. When your mom calls you and tells you about the new bulbs she just bought for her garden, the one that time and experience have allowed her to grow into something beautiful and thriving.
You think about it when you reach into the bottom drawer of your dresser one evening, pulling out the gift Jungwon gave you when you graduated high school nearly five long years ago.
A photobook, full of all your favorite memories together. Something to remember him by, he’d told you, so you wouldn’t miss him too much when you went off to university one whole year ahead of him.
In every picture, you’re smiling, grinning so wide you think your face must be in danger of splitting in two. And you’re so lucky, you think, to have someone to share all of these memories with. To have someone who’s been in your life for so long, who’s always been exactly what you needed.
And then, staring at a picture of the two of you in high school, his arm around your shoulders as the two of you laugh into the camera, you think it’s obvious.
You don’t have to make a choice between the Jungwon you know and the one you’re afraid to discover. Jungwon has been, and always will be, Jungwon. The way he smiles at you, because of you, isn’t an illusion, and the love he offers you isn’t conditional.
He’s been your friend for as long as you can remember, and he will be for the rest of your life. Your feelings and hopes and desires may have shifted, but he isn’t going anywhere.
He’s not scared of the truth, you realize. He never was. But he knew that you would be.
So he fed it to you slowly until it was too prominent to deny anymore. And even then, he gave you space. Time. Let you come to your own conclusions.
And somehow, that makes all the difference.
You think of the game you used to play as kids, the one where you put on your best dress and let him pick wildflowers for you from his back yard. The one where you used the welcome mat from his porch as a makeshift aisle. The one where every time you walked down it, he was the one waiting for you at the end.
You smile, nearly identical to the picture still splayed open across your lap, and you think that maybe there was never really a choice at all.
…..
Your knuckles barely rap against the door three times before you hear shuffling on the other side. Footsteps drawing closer until the latch opens, until the door draws back and you see him standing there. Jungwon.
If he’s surprised to see you, he doesn’t show it. Dressed in gray sweatpants and a plain, fitted black t-shirt, you don’t think he was expecting company.
“Hi,” you breathe. “Can we talk?”
Jungwon still says nothing, but he opens the door a bit wider, gives you space to walk in. Standing in the entry, you take your shoes off, setting them neatly with the others before drawing back up to full height. Prolonging the inevitable as if it makes any part of what you’re about to do easier.
You finally drag your eyes back to Jungwon. He’s already looking at you, expression unreadable. His hands are loose at his sides, but his posture is just slightly unnatural. Just a little too stiff. You know him. He’s nervous.
Finally, you break the silence building between you. “I’ve been thinking,” you tell him.
“About what?” he asks.
“You,” you admit. “Us.” A string somewhere pulls taught. A thread loosens.
Jungwon sighs, his exhale shaky. His hand curls to a loose fist before he tucks it into his pocket. “And?”
“I—” Your decision is still solid, not something you’ll back away from. But the words are harder to work out than you expected. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had in my life.”
Jungwon nods. “I know.”
“So,” you try, “it feels weird to suddenly have these thoughts about…”
He won’t let you leave things unsaid, not this time. “About what?”
“You know,” you try to deflect.
“Yeah,” he agrees, “but I’m gonna make you say it.”
You fidget a bit, eyes dropping, but you didn’t come all the way here because you weren’t sure. You know exactly what you want to tell him.
So you explain, “I just… you asked me, after my date with Sunghoon, what I was looking for.” It feels like a long time ago now, like a distant memory. “And I always felt like I didn’t know, but when I think about it, I always think about…”
“What?” Jungwon breathes.
“You.” Your eyes meet his. This time, neither of you looks away. “I think about you. I don’t have to try and come up with the best answer to my favorite hobbies because you already know. You know me better than anyone and you make me feel good about myself and all the things I usually don’t like. I don’t feel awkward or uncomfortable around you, and I don’t feel like I have to explain myself to you.”
Jungwon’s breath is coming heavier now. He takes half a step towards you, almost subconsciously, as if distance is something he’s finding more difficult to tolerate. But he knows you aren’t done, so he lets you continue.
“And then,” you add, “I was thinking about the difference between our friendship as it’s always been and the kind of relationship I think I want. And the only thing that’s really different is, you know, the sex.” Your words are spilling now, faster than even you can keep up with. “But even then, when I was trying to think of someone who I trusted enough to be with like that, the only person I thought of was—”
“Me,” Jungwon finishes, gaze unreadable.
“Yeah,” you breathe. “You. I don’t want to go on blind dates with Sophia’s coworkers or find random guys to hook up with. I just want you. It’s always been you. I want all of it to be you.”
Jungwon’s eyes shutter, brows going slack as he takes a deep inhale.
But you want to give him the same courtesy he’s been extending towards you this entire time. The decision, you want him to know, will always be his to make. “I know it might seem weird or sudden or out of the blue,” you tell him, “but I just needed you to know.” Thinking of his earlier promise you clarify, “You don’t have to say yes. I don’t even know if I’m really asking you anything—”
“You think about me?” he interrupts. “When you think about what you want in a relationship?”
The bluntness of it all still makes you want to squirm. But you hold steady. “Yeah,” you tell him.
“And when you think about having sex,” He’s so direct. It makes you want to hide your face behind your hands. “That’s me too?”
You can’t quite manage words this time, but your nod is confirmation enough.
Jungwon exhales, even harsher than before. “Are you just curious?” he asks. “It’s fine if you are, but I can’t— we can’t do this if you’re just trying to scratch an itch. If you’re just doing it to move on, to get over a fear.”
“I…” you’re trying to read between the lines, to make sure that you understand what he’s saying. It seems obvious, but there’s a strange haze in your mind that has you doubting everything, including your own judgement. “If we do…”
Jungwon doesn’t seem to have the same reservations for spelling it out. “If we have sex.”
“Oh,” you breathe. And then, “No.” You shake your head.
“No?” He echoes.
“I…” You trail off, trying to find the right words to explain. “I’m not—There’s no fear when it comes to you. I’m not trying to get over anything. And there’s no one else that I even want to be with like that, so…” You trail off, searching for the words. “You told me it was my choice, and I guess I just want you to know that it’s yours, too. You don’t have to agree to anything, because you’re afraid of disappointing me or hurting my feelings or—”
“___,” he whispers your name, the sound nearly broken on his lips. You look up at him, eyes wide. “Come here,” he begs.
It only takes two tiny steps for you to stand just before him, for your chests to nearly brush. For a moment, Jungwon does nothing. Then, his arms come up, one circling around your shoulders, the other against the small of your back as he pulls you flush to him.
The side of your face rests against his chest, his heartbeat erratic under your cheek. You hear him sigh and feel the way his breath flutters through your hair.
He leans back, just slightly, and you follow the movement, chin tilting upwards as your eyes meet his. The hand wrapped around your shoulders slowly unravels itself. He brings his hand up to your temple, brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.
His other hand stays steady against the small of your back.
Jungwon’s fingertips linger against the shell of your ear for a moment. You suppress a shudder as he begins to drag them down, tracing the line of your jaw until they come to settle just beneath your chin.
“Is this okay?” he whispers.
You nod, the movement making his fingers press more firmly into your skin.
Then, slowly, he begins to lean towards you. His nose brushes against yours, once, twice, a third time.
“I’ve thought about this,” he admits. “More times than I can count.”
He’s told you as much before, but now, with his hands on you and his lips just inches away, it feels different. It feels real.
“I imagined you looking at me,” he hums, pressing a kiss to your jaw, “with those big, wide eyes.” Another kiss, this time to the curve of your cheekbone. “Clinging to me,” a kiss to your eyelid as it flutters shut. “Sighing.” The tip of your nose. “And I’d try to hold back, but—”
“You don’t have to,” you shake your head. It comes out quieter than you mean for it too. It’s ridiculous, maybe, but even now, you feel shy.
“You mean that?” he asks, lips hovering so close you can feel their warmth.
You nod, nose brushing against his.
Jungwon sighs, takes a deep breath. And then he presses forward, just enough, until his lips finally brush against yours.
His grip tightens against you, fingers bunching the fabric of your shirt that rests against the small of your back.
He’s gentle, so impossibly sweet as his lips find yours. Upper lip slotting between both of yours, he tugs slightly against your bottom lip. Releases it with a soft, wet sound. Smiles against you as you giggle into him.
When his lips find yours again, it’s with renowned fervency. The pressure is more insistent this time, more demanding as he uses the hand beneath your jaw to angle you his liking.
Jungwon takes the lead, pausing, soothing his touch against your skin while you adjust to his pace.
Your hands find his hair, tangling in the strands near his neck. You tug, an involuntary response when you feel his teeth against your bottom lip, and he groans, shuddering against you.
Without breaking connection, he moves, walking backwards, leading blindly, until he sits down on the same couch you’ve been sharing moments on for weeks now. This time, he tugs you down with him, pulling you flush against his lap.
You feel it then, the evidence of just how affected he is. As if the drunk flush on his cheeks and swollen, red tint of his lips weren’t enough.
Jungwon wraps both hands around your waist now, pulling you tighter to him as your fingers cup his jaw, tracing, gripping.
You feel it then, his tongue against the seam of your lips, and you part them without a second thought.
Jungwon waits until you’re breathless above him to decide that he’s had enough of this position. Using the leverage of his hands around you, he maneuvers your body until you're flat against the cushions, head propped against the pillow that sits by the armrest.
Hovering over you now, he uses his hands to brace himself on either side of your head. Eyes trained on your features, on the evidence of his ministrations. His gaze gets darker, heavier, as he takes in the sight of you beneath him. Skin flushed, lips swollen and parted in anticipation, in permission.
Jungwon’s had his fantasies. Has kept them close to his chest and in the back of his mind for longer than he’d be willing to admit. But the sight of you now. Under him, reaching for him, begging for him, is enough to shatter every wet dream he’s had since he was a teenager.
Jungwon doesn’t maintain distance for long. Leaning down, he invades all of your senses. All you can see, even with your eyes screwed shut, is him. All you can feel is his lips, warm and insistent against your, the press of his hands on you, hovering just above the sliver of skin where your shirt had ridden up over your waistband. Every sound, every scent, every taste—it’s all him. Something warm and familiar and entirely new all at once.
His hand plays with the fabric of your hem for a moment, testing the waters. When all you do is kiss him back—harder—he decides to press his luck. Fingertips dancing against the bare skin of your lower stomach, he starts to drag your shirt upwards.
The air of his apartment is cool, even if his touch is anything but. It makes every inch of exposed skin that much more sensitive, goosebumps rising as his fingertips trace patterns against you.
His lips press against yours, a new angle, as a sound loosens itself from your chest. He swallows it, tongue pressing against you like he wants to savor it, like he’d do anything to hear it again.
He has your shirt nearly to your ribcage now, fingers tracing against the bottom seam of your bra, nerves singing with something new as you arch up against him. You need more.
Friction, pressure, touch, it doesn’t matter. You’ll take whatever he gives you.
Then, suddenly, you remember. Pulling back slightly, his lips chase yours.
“Wait,” you pant, the syllable muffled as he presses another kiss against you.
Once your request registers, he stops, mouth still brushing against yours. Leaning back slightly, he frowns. His chest still heaves when he asks, “You okay?”
“Yeah,” you nod, breathless. “But what about Jake?”
“What?” Jungwon asks above you. You don’t seem to be the only one struggling with coherent thought.
“Jake,” you repeat. “What if he comes in?”
He wouldn’t see anything, not really. Even the expanse of your bare torso is covered by Jungwon’s body on yours. But still, something in you hesitates. This, all of it, is for you and him. No one else.
Jungwon shakes his head. “He’s not home.”
“What if he comes back?”
“He won’t,” Jungwon insists. “He’s visiting his family for the weekend. He won’t be back until Monday.”
Still breathing hard, it’s as if your interruption knocked sense back into him. Palm still splayed against your ribs, he rubs gentle strokes with the pad of his thumb.
Looking down at you, his eyes crinkle slightly at the way you look so sweet under him, so shy despite what you’d been doing only moments earlier.
“Hey,” he leans down, nudging his nose against yours, “You doing okay?”
You nod, but you still don’t match his gaze.
“Yeah?” he confirms, “Then look at me.”
It takes a moment, but you do. Your cheeks only redden further, flush more apparent than he’s ever seen it before when you finally meet his eye.
Something in his chest swells. You might be a year older, but fuck if it doesn’t make him feel like such a man knowing that he’s the reason you look like this, that he’s the one who did this to you.
“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, grinning when you look away again. He presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. A chaste peck against the seam of your lips. “My beautiful, perfect girl.”
“Jungwon,” you whine.
“What?” he asks. “It’s true.”
“I thought you wanted to kiss me.”
“I can take a break to compliment you?”
You flush again, hands coming up to cover your face.
“Ah, ah,” Jungwon tsks, fingers wrapping around your wrists. “I asked you to look at me.” He pulls, gentle but insistent, until your hands fall away. Until he can once again look you in the eye.
“How long are you just gonna stare at me?” you ask.
“As long as you’ll let me,” he grins.
“Jungwon,” you whine again.
“Why?” he asks, practically cooing at you now. “Is my baby shy?”
You shudder at the pet name, and it awakens something devious in him.
“Oh,” he breathes. “I see. You’re getting impatient. Need me to touch you. Is that it?”
All you do is whine, but it’s a good enough answer for him.
“C’mon,” he urges, leaning back. “Up.”
You frown at the sudden distance, a furrow creasing your brow.
“The first time we have sex is not going to be on my living room couch,” he explains. Taking your hand in his, he guides you instead towards his bedroom.
And it’s not like you’ve never been here before, but something about the low light, the weight of what you’re about to do, makes it feel like uncharted territory.
You step into the room, even further than Jungwon, eyes trained on the queen size bed pressed up under the window on the far side of the room.
Your back to him, you hear Jungwon pull the door shut. It latches into place with a quiet click. And then, behind you, he asks, “What are you thinking about?”
“You,” you admit, turning to face him as you sit on the edge of his bed. “Us. I never thought…” you trail off, palm smoothing against the top of his sheets. “I never thought we’d be here.”
“I did,” Jungwon tells you.
“Really?” Your eyes widen when you look at him.
“Maybe thought is the wrong word,” he amends. “But I hoped.” He’s quiet for a moment, emotions playing out across his features. “Now that you’re here, I…” he hesitates, trying to find the words. “I don’t want to do anything wrong,” he admits. “I don’t want to scare you.”
“You won’t.” You shake your head. “I told you. I trust you. That includes this, too.”
Jungwon looks at you, gaze open. “You mean that?”
“Of course,” you nod.
Some of the tension drains from his broad shoulders, but he stays where he is, silhouette shrouded in the dim light of his bedroom.
This time, it’s you who takes charge.
“Jungwon,” you whisper, an echo of your earlier embrace in his entry way. “Come here.”
That’s all the encouragement he needs. His footsteps are even, steady, as he makes his way towards you. All the way until he stands just before you, looking down at where you sit on his sheets.
His hand comes to your cheek, thumb tracing patterns against your skin as you lean into his touch.
“Up,” he instructs. “Back against the pillows.” His hand falls from your face, trails down until his fingers interlace with yours. He follows in your wake as you move according to his instructions, all the way until you’re in a ghost of the position from his couch.
His body hovers over yours, breath warm as it fans against your cheekbone.
Again, his fingers find the hem of your shirt. This time, he’s less shy about pressing it upwards, all the way until it sits against the band of your bra.
Plain, black, built more for comfort than arousal. But you know Jungwon. He’ll take you as you are.
“Jungwon,” you breathe, just as his fingertip slips beneath the band. It takes him a moment to tear his eyes away, to look up and meet your gaze. “Kiss me.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice.
Lips meeting yours, the slow build from before is gone. He knows what he’s searching for now, has already learned what rhythm makes you breathless fastest, palms splaying against his chest like you’d do anything to be closer.
His hand comes to your hip, then slides to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You shudder as he guides it open, pliant to his touch. Jungwon uses the newly created space to slot his leg in between yours.
The shift has him brushing against you where tension is beginning to gather, exactly where you’re beginning to ache.
It feels good, but there’s something frustrating about it. The way sensation builds and falls in the same maddening ebb and flow, like the sea of an uncharacteristically quiet day.
You already know it’s not enough. Against his lips, you whine. A pathetic little sound that stays half trapped in your throat. But Jungwon understands.
Sees the way your hips are starting to roll against him, the way your brow creases in concentration as you try to find a better angle.
Leg still between yours, he lets his fingertips ghost over the planes of your bare stomach, dragging downwards until he’s exactly where you want him.
You whine against his lips and he shudders. “Is this what you need?”
You can hardly respond, can hardly think as his fingers dip below your waistband. Far more precise, it doesn’t take long to have you seeing stars.
He’s still kissing you, and you do your best to return it, but the sensations he levels you with are more than a little maddening. Lips parted against his, your mouth is practically slack as he works against you.
“Feels—good,” you sigh, eyes screwing shut.
“I can tell,” he whispers, some kind of awe in his voice. “Look at you.”
You’re so close. Jungwon can tell, too. He’s frantic now, movements tighter, faster as he watches the way your face twists in pleasure.
Your hand closes around his wrist, stopping him. “Jungwon,” you pant, the sound of his name hardly coherent. “Wait.”
Immediately, his hand stills. He doesn’t pull away though, just leaves it there, against you.
The sensation sends a fresh, aching throb pulsing from somewhere deep within you. Jungwon feels it too, against his fingertips, and groans.
Remembering himself, he asks, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” you shake your head. “I just… I’m ready.”
Jungwon thinks he knows what you mean. He’s imagined those same words from you before. A million times, in a million different contexts. But the sight of you beneath him, eyes wide, lips parted, so terribly sweet, is so much better than he ever dreamed.
“I want you,” you whisper, tugging at his wrist. “Please.”
Jungwon won’t make you wait. Fingers still hidden beneath your waistband, he slides them towards the top now, pulling, all the way until you’re bare beneath him.
He presses a kiss against your hip, just shy of where he was moments before.
He helps you slide your shirt over your head and shudders when your bra follows in its wake. He marvels at the feeling of your hands, smaller than his, tugging at his shirt, his jeans, until the two of you are in an equal state of undress.
Again, because it’s true and because he can’t help himself, he whispers, “You’re beautiful.”
You’re still shy, even more so with the weight of his gaze on you, but you manage, “So are you.” It’s his turn to flush.
Hands pressing against your shoulders, he guides you to lay down again. Hair fanning out against his pillows, he thinks you look a bit like an angel here, tangled in his sheets.
He’d tell you, if he weren’t so distracted by the sudden feeling of your leg coming to wrap around his waist.
Skin against skin, it feels even closer than before. Warmer, Softer.
“Jungwon,” your brows pull downward, eyes fluttering shut as you chase the sensations that have begun to drown you. “Please.”
He moves slowly, not from hesitation. Jungwon doesn’t think he’s ever been so sure of anything in his life. But he knows what this means to you, to him. He wants to take his time, wants to let every part of you adjust to him until you feel like an extension of one another, until your bodies can’t quite tell where one ends and the other begins.
He swallows your gasp as he presses into you. Brows furrowed, lips parted, he drops his head into the crook of your neck, scattering soothing kisses down the length of your throat.
“Feels so good,” he encourages as you whimper, adjusting. “Perfect, like you were made for me.”
The sentiment rings true, now and later, when he feels you relax around him, when he starts to move.
Slowly, reverently, at a pace that lets him press as deep as possible.
He brings his hand from your hip to the space just beneath your navel, palm splaying over your lower stomach, just above where he presses inside of you. Pushing down slightly, the added pressure makes you whine, tightening around him.
Jungwon groans, a long, deep sound that vibrates between your bodies.
“Jungwon,” you whisper, when the ache starts to sing, when the pressure starts to build. When you close your eyes and see stars behind them.
“I know,” he pants, like he feels it too. “It’s okay,” he assures. “I have you.”
It’s a reminder of what brought you here in the first place. And the sound of his voice is all you need.
Keening high in your throat, every muscle, every nerve, every fiber in your body goes taut. Tightens, pulls, before it releases. Jungwon leans down, lips parted against your collarbone as he groans, falling over the same edge only moments after you.
The shower he runs for you is warm, the touch he washes your hair with soothing as he rinses soap from your scalp.
The sheets are soft as you crawl between them, Jungwon’s chest firm as he pulls you tight against him.
“Sleep,” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss against your temple.
Body exhausted, mind sated, it doesn’t take long for you to do as he says. In his arms, the rest that finds you is deep and dreamless.
…..
“Name?” Across from you, the secretary that sits at the front desk looks bored out of her mind. As if she’s seen one too many potential new hires and doesn’t think they’re worth remembering at this point.
You give her your name, and she types a brief note into her computer. Doesn’t bother memorizing it, but you won’t let that get to you, not today.
“You can sit over there.” She gestures towards the row of chairs against the far wall of the reception area. With a smile so tight you think her jaw must hurt, she adds, “I’ll call you when they’re ready.”
It’s not much. It’s barely even polite, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Not when this is the first real company you’ve stepped foot in in months. When this is the first time you’ve gotten a string of congratulations in the subject line of your email inbox instead of rejections.
Still, it isn’t a sure thing. A test run, the hiring manager had called it. A week of in-person work at the company to see if you’ll be a good fit, if they’re willing to formally offer you a position.
An extension of the already lengthy interview process you’ve been subjected to for the last six weeks. But it’s far more than you’ve gotten from anywhere else.
It’s enough to have hope soaring in your chest, even at the prospect of a week of what is essentially unpaid labor.
Sliding down into the chair, you tug at the sleeve of your blazer, smooth the collar over one final time.
In your mind, you rehearse the answers you gave during your interviews. You’re not sure if you’ll be asked again, but you figure it’s better to be safe than sorry.
You’re interested in the position, because the company’s mission statement excites you. You think it aligns well with your experience and your hopes for a future career.
Are you good with deadlines? Better than nearly everyone you know. Do you work well under pressure? Absolutely. Where do you see yourself in five years? Advancing in your career as a young professional in the same field you earned your degree in. The same field a position at this company would put you in.
As the minutes pass, you remind yourself to breathe, to relax. The butterflies taking flight in your stomach won’t help you now, so you do your best to banish them.
And, minutes later, just as the secretary calls your name, you feel your phone buzz.
Glancing down, you grin at the message that comes through.
You got this, Jungwon says, the small heart next to his contact name shining like a reminder. Knock em dead
And then, beneath it,
Can’t wait to see you tonight beautiful
So, you stand up a little straighter. Shoulders square, chin high. You’re okay, even as your nerves threaten to send your heart beating out of your chest.
No matter what the results of this so-called trial run are, or every single attempt you’ll surely make after it, you’ll be fine. And if you fail, you’ll try again.
Whether this ends in an official offer letter or a bold-faced rejection, no matter what, you have Jungwon—rooting for you, thinking of you, waiting for you to come back and tell him all about it.
Jungwon, your best friend, your favorite person, and probably, if the feelings you’re starting to get whenever he’s near are anything to go by, the love of your life.
You meet the secretary’s gaze, smiling even as all she does is arch a brow. And then you tell her, “I’m ready.”
