[bxbybluelove-x]

i can’t feel that you love me, l.hs

cause baby close just isn't close enough maybe my passion just ain't enough

pairing: dom!heeseung x sub!reader | smut (mdni) |  wc: 2k  | ♫: TBH - partynextdoor

⤷ established relationship, both reader and heeseung are in enhypen, condescending dom!heeseung but he’s also so in love, sub!reader, jealous!hee, petnames, p in v, hair pulling, spanking, praise, manhandling

❀ AN: this is my first fic so interactions and feedback are highly appreciated ty!! :) 

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

It’s not like you were doing it on purpose.

You just had a lot of things going through your mind as Heeseung pounded into you like there was no tomorrow. So you weren’t at the top of your game. With the upcoming concerts and the thought of having to catch a flight first thing in the morning, it’s not like you had much energy left for Heeseung. 

He didn’t realize this as he looked down at you, giving out occasional soft whines as your gaze drifted to something behind him. His grip on your waist tightened and he plunged deeper inside you, craving those sweet sounds only you were able to produce. You just gasped softly in response. And that pissed him off more. 

Because all he could think about since he walked into your hotel room and kissed you messily against the wall before you could even say hello, was that fucking reporter. He had somehow snuck backstage after the concert and was chatting you up with useless questions and compliments about how good your performance had been. Heeseung had realized this because you weren’t by his side like usual, eager to go back to the hotel, despite your tiredness, for some alone time. He saw you talking to him across the room. He was shamelessly flirting with you in front of everyone. So fucking rude. And unprofessional. 

Nevertheless, you were being your usual charming self. He didn't blame you. You were naturally kind, polite, beautiful. But something in the way he shook your hand and left you his number for “more information” made something twist in his chest. 

Still, he knew that that night you were going to be in his bed, moaning his name as you fell apart around him. 

You don’t know this as your palm presses into his chest and your other hand wraps around his neck, trying to stabilize yourself as he pounds into you. 

“fuck baby,” you moan. 

“like that?” he pants, as his eyes search yours.

You just nod in response and he looks to where you’re connected, his dick disappearing in and out of you. He can feel how wet you were, but that isn’t enough for him as he leans down to gently suck on your neck, wanting to see his marks on you.   

“mh don’t” you whine as his teeth graze your skin.

You knew Heeseung would get carried away and you were not in the mood to have to cover those the next morning before leaving.

He hesitates before pulling back, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. You realize you might’ve pushed too far when you see his jaw tighten slightly. But you say nothing, and his pace slows, before pulling out. 

You open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out as you meet his dark eyes and you immediately want him back inside you. 

As he watches you look up at him with those big pleading eyes he just wants to thrust right back into your warmth but he resists. He needs something else. 

“On your knees” is the only thing that comes out of his mouth in that dark, commanding tone that makes you shiver. 

“Heeseung I-” you try to explain but he just sighs and grabs your waist, manhandling you into the position he wants. 

You look behind for a second, surprised, before he grabs your hip and plunges into you. 

“F-fuck” you moan as your knees nearly give out and his grip on your hip tightens. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t wait for you to adjust or ease into it. He just pulls you back roughly as the sound of your skin slapping fills the room. 

That pretty much clears any remaining thought in your head. 

“Heeseung I was just-” 

“Thinking of him?” he grunts. He doesn’t wanna hear it right now. He just needs you. Bad. 

Maybe it’s a mixture of stress, exhaustion and jealousy but all he wants right now is to feel you lose control and come around his cock. 

“Wha-what are you talking about?” you try to think straight as he keeps on filling you up over and over again.

“You know who. That fucking reporter was all over you baby,” he leans over your back to kiss your neck, making you gasp. But his pace doesn’t falter, if anything it becomes more controlled that only leaves you wanting him more.

You barely have time to realize what this is about as he sinks his teeth into your shoulder and you have to bury your face deeper into the pillow to not cry out. 

Wrong move.

“Uh-uh. I wanna hear you” he pulls back and tugs on your hair, making you clench around him. He groans in satisfaction and fights the urge not to flip you over and fill you with praises over how good you’re taking him. Instead, he almost pulls out until basically only the tip is in and he’s giving you shallow strokes that barely hit the spot. 

You whine and try to take more but he pulls harder on your hair and grips your hip so tightly you know it’s gonna leave marks.

So you do the only thing you know gets to him.

“Please,”  you cry out and he smirks to himself. That’s his girl. Only his. 

“Please what?” He continues his shallow thrusts, but speeds up, making you arch more and more for him, craving that deep connection you were having before. 

“I want more” you turn your head slightly and he catches your pouty shiny lips.

Fuck. His pace falters and he sinks into you completely before pulling back out, earning a soft whimper from you. He doesn’t know how he hasn’t given in yet. But he wants to see you lose control over his cock, to be so fucked out you can barely speak.

“Gonna make noise for me now baby?” his arrogant tone just turns you on even more and you feel yourself getting closer.

“We- I can’t-” you manage to spit out before going back to biting your lip.

“Why not? You didn’t seem to care that time in the shower” he smirks darkly as he lets go of your hair to knead his fingers through the soft flesh of your ass.

“T-that was different. Our manager is right next door Hee” you try to reason, but the way he’s angling his hips to completely avoid your spot is making it hard. 

“So? You act like they don’t already know” 

He states it like it’s obvious. Like it’s no big deal you’re fucking when your contract strictly forbids you from dating any member in the group. 

But deep down you know he likes it. How much you’re risking just cause you’re addicted to his cock. 

“What do you mean?” you whine as he leans down again to kiss the bite mark he left.

“You think they can’t tell by the way I look at you? Hm?”

You feel something in your stomach flutter and your mouth just falls open in another gasp. 

He kisses your neck and murmurs in your ear.

“Answer me” 

You can’t take it as you feel him everywhere, his voice filling your ears and making your head spin, his chest against your back and his palm spread over your stomach to help you stay up. 

“I- I don't know!” you don't even know what you’re supposed to be saying right now as you can feel your stomach tighten and his breath hot against your neck.

“Aw. Too fucked out to answer huh?” 

He knows that condescending tone works too well on you, in fact he knows everything about you. Every sound and what they mean. Every mole on your body. He’s probably run his hands over every single part of your skin and that still isn’t enough. He’s still addicted to making you feel good and would probably spend an eternity without coming if it meant he could give you orgasm after orgasm. 

In the meantime he’s started again with the deep and lingering thrusts that make you feel like he’s trying to never forget the feeling of your warmth. You, on the other hand, just feel more helpless as you whine, trying to gain some kind of pity from him. He just responds by smacking your ass, hinting you to behave. 

“Everyone knows you’re mine baby” he smirks against your skin. And it’s true. 

He would never say something in front of others and actually risk you getting busted. 

But the staff and other members have already caught how his gaze trails over your eyes and lips every time you speak, or how he always looks at you first when someone makes a joke, just to see the way your head falls back in laughter and your eyes crinkle.

When you don’t answer his statement: “Think he could fuck you better? He wouldn’t even know what to do with you y/n,” 

“Stop!” you beg. You can’t handle his relentless thrusts and his words making your face heat up and the coil in your stomach closer and closer to snapping.

He just chuckles. “You want me to stop?” he slows down to a much sweeter and controlled pace that makes your head spin. 

“That’s not what I meant” you whine as you arch, wanting more.

“I know princess. I was messing with you” he says as he pulls you up against his chest so your arms are wrapped around his neck. 

Then he gently grabs your waist with one hand and thrusts into you.

The new position has you rolling your eyes back as your head falls against his shoulder.

“Baby I can’t” you try to whine out but he shushes you.

“Shh shh yes you can baby. You’re doing so good for me” he mutters in your ear as he presses soft kisses to your neck. He knows praise is your weak spot, in fact you just moan helplessly. 

“So pretty for me. Look at you. Fucking perfect” the way his tone switches from mean to sweet in seconds makes you moan desperately and turn your head to try to catch his lips. 

He rewards you by kissing you and thrusting harder so he can slide his tongue in your mouth as you gasp.

He pulls away to play with your nipple in between his fingers and feel you twitch at the touch. “Just like that,” he grunts

You’re so close to snapping and he can tell from your sounds increasing and your hips pushing back.

“Not trying to be quiet anymore hm?” but despite the teasing you see the way he’s looking at you, like he’s trying to physically transmit the amount of love he feels for you.

“Fuck, shut up Heeseung” you groan and he chuckles before quickening his pace. You cry out in response.

“There she is. Come for me baby- fuck- wanna feel it”

The squelching noises of his dick in your wet pussy and the way his fingers rub your clit is too much for you to handle and you come as you moan his name in his ear. He holds you as you arch into him, trying to take him as deep as humanly possible, murmuring praises and "I've got you”s.

He doesn’t think he’s ever felt you squeeze him that tightly and he immediately comes, filling you up with his load. “Ah ffuck”

You two catch your breath for a second as he feels you still pulse around him and then pulls out. Knowing you get overwhelmed easily he quickly lays you down and pulls you against his chest.

“You okay princess?” he presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“Mhm” you sigh contentedly. “So.. was someone feeling jealous?” you smile, it’s your turn to tease him now.

He groans “Shut up” as he buries his face in your hair, his confidence from before quickly disappearing.

“Worked though, didn't it?” he adds soon after as his thumb traces circles on your hip. “You came so hard I think the whole hotel floor heard you, nevermind the manager” 

You giggle and turn to him, gently hitting his chest. “Don’t say that! I’ll seriously get paranoid”

He grabs your wrist and kisses your palm before pinning it above your head and settling above you.

“Whatever. I didn’t mind.”

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[jaehyp]

𝖥𝖫𝖮𝖯 𝖫𝖠𝖴𝖭𝖢𝖧 ─ 𝖺 𝗇𝗋𝗄. 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗎

!! pairing: idol niki x idol gf fem reader

!! synopsis: niki tries to soft launch you three times and fails. so you take matters into your own hands.

!! a/n: randomly got the motivation to do a smau again i forgot how fun they are 🥹 i hope u guys like ittt !!

[avtrns]

TiO — S.JY

─── i just wanna watch you when you take it off ⋆˚꩜｡ OR when jake's friend gets a little too comfortable flirting with you, he tries to keep his cool. but he makes one thing painfully clear: only he gets to prove just how good you are to him.

pairing: boyfriend!jake x f!reader

content+warnings: not proofread, smut, possessive jake, jealousy/angry sex mhmm, unprotected p in v (don't do it!), nipple play, dry humping, implied voyeurism, fingering, multiple orgasms, forced orgasm, overstimulation - lmk if i missed anything!

word count: 3.2k / 3,239

bea speaks! im not sure how i feel about this but just wanted to post this as a filler lol

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

THE RESTAURANT WAS LOUD in a comfortable kind of way. Your table was filled with overlapping conversations, clinking glasses, and occasional bursts of laughters that made people turn their heads.

Jake sat beside you relaxed in a way only he could be. His arm draped lazily over the back of your chair, fingers brushing the bare skin of your shoulder every so often without thinking, like touching you was second nature.

It was his birthday dinner, belated by a few days thanks to packed schedules and impossible timing, but that only seemed to make tonight feel more special. It was less of an obligatory celebration and more of an intimate gathering with the people he loved most.

You listened quietly as the boys traded stories, particularly laughing at the embarassing stories involving your boyfriend. His cheeks had gone pink somewhere between the toasts and Sunoo’s retelling of a humiliating story from years ago, ducking his head with a shy grin that made your chest ache with affection.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” Jake murmured beside you, leaning in close enough for only you to hear.

You turned toward him, smiling. “I think it’s cute.”

His eyes softened instantly—that warm, honeyed look reserved only for you—before a voice next to you interrupted.

“I was just thinking,” Sunghoon said casually, resting back in his chair as his gaze landed on you, “that dress looks nice on you.”

The room felt heavier despite the cheerful conversation happening. You blinked, caught slightly off guard, before letting out a small laugh.

“Oh,” you said, smoothing a hand over your dress almost instinctively. “Yeah… thanks.”

Simple. Innocent. Nothing more than polite acknowledgment before your attention slipped elsewhere, already listening to Jungwon start another story from down the table.

You didn’t notice the way Sunghoon’s eyes lingered a second longer than necessary.

And you definitely didn’t notice Jake.

You didn't notice how the easy smile on his lips had faded. You didn't notice how his hand, once tracing lazy circles against your shoulder, had gone still. You didn't otice how his gaze stayed fixed and not on Sunghoon exactly, but on the space between you, watching every little thing with quiet intensity.

Jake was smiling when someone pulled him back into conversation, nodding along, laughing at the right moments, and slipping effortlessly back into the warmth of the group.

But every so often, his eyes found you.

Found Sunghoon leaning in a little too close when he spoke to you. Found the way Sunghoon kept directing little comments your way; small, easy compliments wrapped in harmless teasing that made you laugh.

And every time, Jake watched, saying nothing at all.

The drive home after dinner was quieter than usual.

Not awkward, though. Jake had never been awkward with you but he was noticeably quieter. The radio hummed softly, some late-night radio playing low enough to be background noise, drowned out by the steady rhythm of tires against pavement.

Beside you, Jake was still as ever with one hand resting loosely at the top of the wheel, the other draped over the center console. But there was a tension in him that hadn’t been there before.

You noticed it. Of course you did, but you didn’t know what to do with it. So you let the silence stretch, hoping he’d speak first when he was ready.

His voice came suddenly, so sudden that you almost missed it.

“You let him say that to you.”

You turned, brows knitting softly. “What?”

Jake’s eyes stayed fixed on the road, jaw tightening.

“Sunghoon.”

You blinked, replaying the night in your head.

“The dress comment?” you asked slowly, confused more than anything. “He was just being nice.”

Jake let out a humorless laugh beneath his breath, his eye slightly twitching.

“Was he?”

The sharpness in those two words caught you off guard. You straightened slightly in your seat, turning toward him more fully now. “Jake, what is that supposed to mean?”

His grip on the wheel tightened just enough for you to notice.

“It means,” he said, voice low and controlled, “I watched him spend half the night leaning into your space, looking at you like—”

He stopped himself, knowing if he pushed further it would only make things worse, but you do it for him anyway.

“Like what?” you pressed.

Jake finally glanced at you, and there was something dark and wounded in his expression—something raw beneath all that usual warmth.

“Like he wanted something that’s mine.”

Your breath caught, disbelief washing over you. In the back of your head, you knew that Jake was possessive and made it clear that you were off limits to his friends, but you also knew that they're boys. They're going to say things to tease Jake even if he doesn't take it lightly.

“You watched him do all that,” you shot back, words coming out sharper than expected. “And said nothing.”

Jake’s expression hardened. He knew you were right.

“I was trying not to make a scene on my birthday.”

You scoffed softly. “So somehow I’m the problem?”

“No,” he said immediately, sharper this time. Then quieter, rougher around the edges: “The problem is you smiled at him like it meant nothing.”

And that makes it personal.

Jake didn’t say much when you returned back to your place.. Neither did you. It just felt easier that way, as if speaking might crack something neither of you knew how to put back together yet.

You walked a few steps in, fingers already moving to your earrings out of habit. One came loose easily, then the other, your reflection catching briefly in the hallway mirror as you exhaled through your nose, still thinking about dinner. Still thinking about Sunghoon. Still thinking about Jake’s silence.

You stepped into the bedroom with Jake following behind in a safe distance, the silence deafening beneath the click of your heels on the floor. And something about that silence finally irritated you again.

“You said you watched him.”

Jake didn’t answer right away. You set the earrings down carefully on your nightstand, trying not to let your frustration spill into your movements.

“I mean,” you added, quieter but sharper now, “you really just sat there?”

Another beat of silence. Then Jake’s voice, calm—but not light anymore.

“I kept watching because I wanted to see if you would notice.”

That made you still. Slowly, you turned.

“What?”

Jake sat on the bed, his blazer in his hand and gaze already on you like he hadn’t looked away since the restaurant. There was no humor in his expression now. No easy charm.

“I wanted to see,” he repeated, slower this time, “if it bothered you the same way it bothered me.”

Something in your chest tightened.

You let out a short, scoffed laugh.

“So you watched him do that to me on purpose?”

Jake didn't deny it and you didn't see it in his face either. You watched as he shifts on the bed, tossing his blazer aside as he unbuttons the top few buttons of his shirt, huffing. You stared at him for a second, frustration still buzzing under your skin.

“So, what?” you said finally, voice sharper now. “You want me to read your mind?”

The silence that followed was different this time. He paused, looking at you like whatever he had been holding back all night finally snapped. He slowly exhaled, gaze dropping down to your legs before lifting again.

"Take it off."

You blinked. "What?"

"The dress," he said, quieter but firmer. "Take it off."

For a second, you just stood there. Confused and caught off guard. You trail your hands to your shoulder, fidgeting with the strap before you pause, ready to protest.

But Jake stopped you before your lips could part.

"I've been thinking about it all night, and I don't want anyone else seeing you in it again."

You let out a breath, half disbelief, half hesitation.

“Are you serious right now?”

Jake finally moved—just slightly—leaning forward on the bed, forearms resting loosely on his thighs, but his eyes didn’t leave you.

“Yes.”

A beat.

Then softer, but somehow heavier:

“Take it off.”

This time, it didn’t sound like a question. And it definitely didn’t sound like an argument anymore.

He watched as you slowly slid the zipper down. The dress fell to the floor, leaving you standing there half-naked. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.

Jake stands up and walks over, stopping just inches away. "Turn around."

You turned slowly, presenting your back to him. You felt his hand ghost over your spine, tracing the line of your shoulders before his fingers settled on the clasp of your bra. With a quiet click, he undoes it, letting the straps slide down your arms.

He leans in close, his chest pressing against your bare back, his breath hot against your ear.

"Sunghoon doesn't get to see this," he murmured against your skin, his hands sliding around your waist to pull you tighter against him. "And if he did, he'd know immediately who you belong to anyway."

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs slowly until you stepped out of them. You were completely bare now, exposed under his intense gaze.

You turn around, looking up at him but his expression was indifferent. He smirks at you before dragging you to the bed. You crawled onto it, feeling vulnerable as ever as Jake followed, his movements predatory as he climbed onto the mattress behind you.

He pushed your legs apart gently but firmly, settling between them. You quietly whimper as his hands grips your hips, pulling you flush against him so you could feel his hardness pressing against your hot core.

When he pulls back slightly, his eyes widen at the way your wetness left a slight mark on his trousers. The subtle glisten of your juices could make him cum right then and there.

"You're already so wet," he commented, pressing against your core again. His hand slipped between your bodies, undoing his belt and pants with practiced ease. He pushed the fabric down just enough to free his cock, thick and heavy against your entrance.

You shudder when the tip gently grazes against your already sensitive nub, the pleasure overwhelming despite barely touching you.

"Don't tease," you whimper, praying he'd give it to you without begging. "Show me what Sunghoon can't."

His eyes flashed with an almost angry possession at your words. Before you could think, he pushes in with one fluid motion, burying himself deep in one brutal stroke. A harsh cry escaped your lips, his hand kneading your breast as he fucks you roughly against the mattress.

The bedframe slammed rhythmically against the wall with every punishing thrust, the sound echoing through the room. He fucked you with a raw, desperate intensity that was meant to make sure you felt every inch of him.

"You feel that?" he gritted out, hips snapping ruthlessly against yours. "He can't fuck you like this, can he?"

You shake your head between thrusts, moaning out almost pornographically.

"He can't make you sound like this either," Jake growled, lifting your legs higher around his hips, his cock hitting deeper. He angled his hips, targeting that perfect place inside you that made your eyes roll back.

Jake watches you with a dark gaze, loving the way you completely fold under him. Seeing you completely fall apart—eyes rolling back, body arching helplessly, thighs twitching—it only fueld his posessiveness even further.

The knot inside you started to get tighter, only a few seconds away from completely coming undone. Your walls flutter around Jake, and with a final brutal thrust, he hit that spot inside you over and over until your orgasm crashed through you.

Weeks passed ever since that night. Both of you never spoke about it, but something had shifted significantly.

He held your hand a little longer when others are around. His gaze followed you more often than it used to. And he positioned himself closer whenever someone came a little close, especially around his friends. Especially around Sunghoon.

The vacation house was supposed to be relaxing, but you could feel the tension between Jake and Sunghoon. You could feel it right now as you're tucked into the corner of the sofa beside Jake.

Your legs are drawn up comfortably, shoulders brushing lightly whenever either of you shifted. It felt easy and comforting, and for a while, it stayed that way.

"We're gonna head up to bed first."

A few heads turned toward Jake, someone teasing him lightly from across the room. "Already?"

Jake smiled like nothing about it carried weight. "Yeah. Long day."

His friends quickly nodded, dismissing it as quickly as it came. Jake's hand slid from its resting place as he stood, offering you his without even looking down at it like he assumed you'd take it.

The moment the door clicked shut behind you, the noise from downstairs disappeared almost completely. The room was warm, and the moonlight lit the room perfectly.

Jake didn't let go of your hand right away. Instead, he pulls you close, arms wrapping around you as his chin rests on your head. It was odd that he was being overly affectionate, but you didn't question it.

"You're quiet," he said, hugging you tighter. "You've been doing that thing where you think too much."

You let out a small laugh. "And you've been doing that thing where you act like you know me better than I know myself."

That earned a quiet huff of amusement from him. He pulls back, hands sliding down to your waist.

"I do know you pretty well," he murmured.

You raised a brow at him. "Why are you acting like this?"

He tilted his head.

"Like what?"

"Like—" you gestured vaguely between the two of you, trying to find the right word. "Like you're in a mood."

His hand tightened slightly at your waist, not enough to pull you back closer, but enough that you could feel it.

"I just like you."

Jake leans in, his breath ghosting over your lips, but you close the distance. He met you halfway instantly, his hand moving to cradle the back of your neck as he kissed you. It wasn't rough or demanding, but slow and deliberate.

The kiss was consuming, stealing the air from your lungs and forgetting everything. His hand tangled in your hair, angling your head just right as his other hand sneaks under your shirt.

He walks you backward until you hit the wall, his body pressing into yours. His tongue pushed past your lips, exploring your mouth hungrily now.

You pull back slightly to catch your breath. "Jake, we shouldn't. They're going to hear us."

"You'll just have to be quiet then," he murmured against your jaw, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. His hands slid higher under your shirt, thumbs tracing the underside of your breasts.

You shiver at the way he gently touches you, but you could feel the heat underneath it. Jake started to leave open-mouthed kisses that made you question whether either of you could actually pull that off.

His lips found yours again just as footsteps passed your room. It should be enough to make you stop, to push him away. Instead, his hands on your body makes it hard to stop.

Jake pushes your shirt up, his thumbs circling your nipples through your bra. The footsteps disappeared, and Jake took advantage of the distraction to slide his hand beneath your bra and brush his thumbs over your nipples in slow circles.

You arched against him as your hand found his hair, pulling him closer instead. He groaned against your neck, one hand fumbling with the hook of your bra while the other trailed down your waist, landing on the waistband of your shorts.

The moan that escaped you when his palm presses against your core made him bite down on your shoulder.

"What happened to being quiet, hm?"

He grabs your wrist, dragging you over to the couch in the corner of the room. He sat down, pulling you down onto his lap so you were straddling him. It put you at the perfect height for him to continue touching you, his hands sliding back up your stomach to cup your breasts.

"You know, Sunghoon's room is next to ours," he whispers before taking a nipple into his mouth. Your moan turned into a gasp when the comment leaves out of Jake's mouth.

His tongue swirled around your nipple, sucking gently as he looked up at you with a mischevious glint in his eye. You can feel wetness pooling at your core as his erection firmly pressed against you.

Your hips start to move instinctively, grinding against him to feel anything. His head falls back against the couch, watching you through half-lidded eyes.

He could feel exactly how turned on you were, hands gripping your hips to help you move against his erection. His free hand moved to cover your mouth suddenly as you started to moan louder.

Jake watched your face carefully, making sure you were quiet, but he wanted to entertain the idea of his own friend hearing your moans. There was something deeply satisfying about the thought of Sunghonon hearing you unravel, still trying to prove his point from weeks ago.

It made his cock throb against you, and he removes his hand from your mouth. Your quiet moan went right to his hard cock when his thumb presses against your clit through your shorts. Your mouth fell open in another soft moan, and he could practically see Sunghoon's confused expression through the wall.

His other hand slid into your shorts, fingers sliding under your soaked panties. Your thighs clamped around his write as he found you already wet. Before you could react, two fingers slide into you slowly, your head falling back with a breathy whimper escaping,

"Ride them."

You obeyed, immediately moving your hips up and down on his fingers rhythmically. The sound of your wet core sliding along his fingers was incredibly erotic. He curved his fingers upward, hitting that perfect spot inside of you. Your hand flies to grip onto his shoulder when you feel the wave of your orgasm hit you in flutters.

He watches you fall apart on his fingers, pumping them faster until your thighs were trembling and your nails were digging into his shoulders. Your head tipped back, a soft, breathless whine escaping as your orgasm crashed over you.

"Now do it again," he commanded, helping you stand up and backing you up against the wall. Only this time, it was the wall directly next to Sunghoon's room.

His hands gently grip your shoulder to turn you around, pressing you directly against the wall. Without hesitation, his fingers returned to your core, sliding back in as he lifted your leg.

The overstimulation of pleasure was overwhelming, and you couldn't control the way the sweetest moans left you. The wet, slick sounds were unmistakable, echoing in the quiet room alongside your moans. Your hand comes up to try and cover your embarrassing sounds, but it didn't help.

Your knees buckled as he hit that spot again, your body trembling as he forced another orgasm out of you.

A message pings on Jake's phone from the other side of the room.

Sunghoon [11:35 PM]: Noted.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

© avtrns 2026 | please do not copy, repost, or translate my work

[jaehyp]

𝖭𝖮𝖮𝖭𝖠'𝖲 𝖡𝖮𝖸 ─ 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗃𝗒.

! pairing: idol bf jake x idol gf reader

!! synopsis: backstage your "best friend" has a habit of letting you have your way with him. tonight, he's not leaving until you admit how much you love it when he calls you noona even if he has to beg.

!! warnings: smut (mdni), sub jake who's pussy drunk, dom reader, 69, piv, spit kink, overstimulation, tit play, degrading, multiple orgasims, jake got a noona kink, reader is a couple months older, js straight filth

!! wc: 3k

!! a/n: i will never ever get tired of writing sub jake anyways ty for the request i honestly wouldn't have thought of such a delicious idea, hope u likey

The show ended an hour ago. The crowd had faded into the quiet hum of staff packing up equipment, and members trickling out to vans. You should be in your own dressing room wiping off stage makeup and heading home like everyone else.

Instead, you're here. Door locked, the muffled sounds of the outside world barely registering.

Jake is sitting in the worn armchair in the corner of his dressing room. Legs spread, shirt half unbuttoned, watching you with that look he gets when you're alone.

He didn't put himself in that chair. You did. You pushed him down into it the second the lock clicked, and he went without resistance, because that's who he is with you. Eager and desperate to please.

You're straddling him now, knees on either side of his thighs, the thin fabric of your stage skirt riding up your legs. His hands rest on your hips, thumbs tracing lazy circles through the material, but he's not gripping. Not guiding. He's waiting. He always waits for you.

"You're staring," you murmur, looping your arms around his neck.

"Can you blame me?" His voice is low, a little breathless. "You looked so good on stage tonight, noona."

There it is. That word. Delivered with a smile that's just shy of teasing, eyes glittering with amusement. He knows exactly what he's doing.

You roll your eyes. "Don't start."

"Start what?" His thumbs press a little deeper into your hips, while giving you puppy eyes. "I'm just complimenting you. You're older, you're wiser, you're sooo experienced. I should respect you."

"You're mocking me."

"I would never." He leans forward, his lips brushing the curve of your jaw. "Respect your elders, right, noona?"

Your fingers tighten in his hair. You should correct him. But his mouth is trailing down your neck now, soft and warm, and he's still murmuring that word against your skin like a prayer.

Noona. Noona. Noona.

"You're insufferable," you manage, but your voice comes out shakier than you intended.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, and that teasing glint is still there, but underneath it is something hungrier. "You love it."

"I hate it."

"Liar." He nips at your bottom lip. "You get so wet every time I say it. I can feel you through your panties, noona."

Heat floods your cheeks. He's right. You hate how much you love it, hate the way your body reacts every single time that word leaves his mouth. But you'll never admit it. Not to him.

"You're so full of yourself."

"Stop acting like you don’t love it." His hands slide down to grip your ass, pulling you tighter against him. You can feel how hard he is through his pants, and the contact makes you both gasp. "See? You can't even pretend anymore."

"Shut up, Jake."

You crash your mouth against his, kissing him hard and deep, and he groans into it like he's been waiting. His tongue slides against yours, messy and desperate, and his hands roam your body like he's trying to memorize every curve. He's always like this sweet and obedient until you give him an inch, and then he's everywhere.

But you're still in control. You pull back first, leaving him chasing your lips with a whine.

"Take off your pants," you say.

He scrambles to obey, lifting his hips to shove his pants down his thighs, boxers following. His cock springs free, flushed and leaking, and you watch him squirm under your gaze.

"You're staring," he says mimicking you from earlier with a shaky laugh in his voice.

"Can you blame me?" You reach down and wrap your hand around him, watching his head fall back against the chair. "You're so pretty like this, Jake. All desperate and whiny."

"I'm not whiny-"

You squeeze gently. He whines.

"Not whiny at all," you agree, smiling. "You're gonna listen to what I say right?"

He nods, eyes blown wide.

You shift off his lap, only to reposition each other on a nearby couch. You climb over him again, swinging your leg over his head until you're facing his lower body and straddling his face. He gets the idea immediately. His hands grab your thighs, pulling you down until your center hovers just above his mouth.

"Wait," you say, and he freezes.

You lean forward, lowering yourself until your mouth is level with his cock. When your breath hits his skin he shudders beneath you.

"You eat me out. I'll suck you off. And if you're good-" you drag your tongue up the length of him just once, just enough to make him whimper " maybe I'll let you cum."

"Fuck," he breathes. "Noona, you're going to kill me."

"Probably." You wrap your lips around the tip and suck gently. "Now shut up and get to work."

He doesn't need to be told twice.

His mouth finds you immediately, tongue parting your folds with an eagerness that makes your hips buck forward. He's messy about it he always has been, too hungry to be neat but he knows exactly where to put his tongue. He laps at your clit in broad strokes, then sucks gently, then does it again, and you have to pull off his cock just to gasp for air.

"Fuck, Jakey-"

He hums against you in response, the vibration shooting up your spine, and you can feel him smiling. That smug little shit.

You retaliate by taking him deeper, swallowing him down until your nose presses against his pelvis. He chokes on a moan, his hips jerking up, and his rhythm falters for just a second before he doubles down.

But then he pauses. His mouth leaves you, and you feel his breath hot against your inner thigh.

"You know what would make this better?" he asks, voice thick.

You lift your head just enough to glare at him over your shoulder. "If you stopped talking?"

"If you admitted you love when I call you noona." You can hear the grin in his voice. "Say it. Just once. 'Jake, I love when you call me noona.'"

"I will bite you."

"That's not a no."

You drop your head back down and take him in your mouth again, hoping to shut him up. He groans, hips stuttering, but he's not done.

"That's not how this works, noona," he says, and the word is muffled because he's burying his face back between your legs, but you still hear it.

His tongue finds your clit again, and this time he's relentless fast and firm and exactly how you like it. Your legs start to shake. Your mouth goes slack around his cock.

"There she is," he murmurs against you. "There's my good girl. You gonna cum for me, noona? Gonna soak my face and pretend you hate me?"

You want to tell him to shut up. You want to pull his hair and remind him who's in charge. But you're so close, so fucking close, and his tongue is doing that thing and his hands are gripping your thighs so tight they'll bruise and he's still saying it, noona noona noona like a fucking mantra.

You cum with his name on your tongue, except it comes out wrong, comes out shaky and desperate and exactly what he wanted to hear.

He moans against you through it, drinking you down, and when you finally go limp above him he pulls his mouth away just long enough to say, "See? I knew you loved it."

You hate him. You hate him so much.

But he's still hard and leaking against your lips, and you took it upon yourself to finish what you started.

You crawl off him and he sits up. Both of you are a mess. His hair is sticking up in twenty directions. His chest is covered in sweat and spit. His eyes are glazed over, lips swollen, cheeks flushed.

You're not much better.

But you're also not done with him.

You settle back between his thighs, fingers tracing lazily along his hip, feeling the way his muscles jump under your touch. He's watching you with those desperate hazy eyes, already trembling again just from the anticipation.

You don't say anything. You just look at him really look at him and let the silence stretch until he can't take it anymore.

"Noona?" His voice cracks. It's small. Fragile. Nothing like the teasing tone from earlier. His lower lip trembles and his eyes are glassy, wet at the corners. He's holding back tears. "Noona, did I- did I not do good?"

Your heart falters.

"I did everything you said," he continues, voice wobbling. "I was good. I didn't complain. I let you- I let you do whatever you wanted. You said if I was good I could-" He stops, swallows hard, and a single tear slips down his cheek. "You said I could cum, noona. You promised."

He's whining now, high and desperate, hips twitching like he can't help chasing friction. His cock is still hard, flushed red, leaking against his stomach. He looks wrecked. Completely wrecked.

"Please," he whispers. "Please, noona. I'll be better. I'll be so much better. Just tell me what I did wrong and I'll fix it. I'll do anything. Just please don't- don't leave me like this."

His hands reach for you but stop halfway, remembering he's not allowed to touch without permission. Instead they fall back against the couch, fingers curling into the fabric like he needs something to hold onto.

"Did I not make you feel good?" His voice breaks on the last word. "I thought- I thought made you feel good. You made a mess all over me and you kept saying my name and I thought you were happy. I thought I was doing good."

Another tear falls. Then another.

He's not even trying to hide it anymore.

Your thumbs brush away his tears, slow and gentle, as you lean in until your forehead touches his.

"Hey," you whisper. "Hey, look at me."

His glassy eyes meet yours, wet and scared and so vulnerable it makes your chest ache.

"You did so good," you say softly, firmly, like you need him to hear it and understand. "So fucking good, Jake."

He sniffles, lower lip still trembling. "But I-"

"Shhh." You shake your head, thumbs still stroking his cheekbones. "You were perfect. You did everything I asked. You let me have you however I wanted. You're being good I like it a lot."

A shaky breath escapes him.

"I'm not leaving you like anything," you continue, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I'm right here. I've got you. You're my good boy, okay? My good, pretty boy who did everything right."

He blinks, more tears spilling over. "Then why did you stop?"

You smile softly, kissing the other corner of his mouth. "Because I wanted to look at you. Because you're perfect everything about you is and I wanted to remember every second of it."

A broken sound leaves his throat.

"You want to cum, baby?" you ask, lips brushing against his.

He nods frantically, hands still fisted in the couch fabric, still obeying even now. "Please, noona. Please im so needy for you, just wanna feel you."

"You will," you promise, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes.

He gets shy at the thought of it and tries to hide his smile.

"That's my boy," you whisper, and you lean down to kiss him soft and slow and full of everything you can't say. He melts into it, tears wet against your cheeks, and when you finally pull away, his eyes are still glassy but the panic is gone.

He doesn't hesitate. "I need you so bad. I've been thinking about you all day. All week. Every time I see you I just want to -" He cuts himself off with a shuddering breath as you squeeze gently.

"You just want to what?"

"I want to be inside you," he admits, voice barely above a whisper. "I want- I want to make you feel good too. I want to make you cum so hard you forget your own name. Please, noona. Please let me."

You hold his wrists against the back of the couch. His hips buck up involuntarily, grinding against you and it's a mess. His leaking pre cum mixes with yours, both of you still slick and sticky from before, Jake's own spit still wet on your skin. The slide is filthy, and you can feel him growing hard again beneath you, pressing between your swollen folds.

You roll your hips slowly, watching his face contort with pleasure.

"Does that feel good?"

"Yes. Fuck, yes, noona it feels so fucking good," he gasps. "Noona, please-"

You keep moving, slow and torturous, and his eyes roll back. His fingers curl into fists above his head but he doesn't lower them, doesn't try to touch you. He's being so good. So obedient.

"You're going to cum like this just from a little grinding," you tell him. "Like a teenage boy. And you're going to thank me for it."

He moans, loud, and you press your hand over his mouth.

"Quiet. Someone could hear."

His eyes widen. His hips stutter. The thought of getting caught, of someone walking past and hearing him fall apart for you it pushes him closer. You can feel it in the way his body tenses, the way his breathing goes ragged against your palm.

"Imagine if a staff member walked in right now," you whisper in his ear. "Imagine if they saw you like this. Their precious Jake. Begging. Whining. About to cum because his noona told him to."

Thats all it takes.

His whole body goes rigid, his mouth opening in a silent cry against your hand, his hips jerking up into you as he spills in the space between the both of you. You watch his face the whole time, drinking in every expression, every twitch, every broken sound he can't quite hold back.

When it's over, he slumps against the couch out of breath, wrists going limp in your grip. His face is flushed, his eyes are wet, and he looks completely wrecked.

Beautiful.

You release his wrists and cup his face in both hands, tilting his head up.

"You did so good," you murmur. "Such a good boy for me."

He leans into your touch, eyes fluttering closed. "Noona..."

"I know." You kiss his forehead softly. "I know."

He's still hard. You can feel it. One orgasm isn't enough for him and you have no intention of stopping here.

"You can touch," you tell him.

His hands fly to your waist immediately, gripping tight, like he's afraid you'll disappear. But you grab his wrists and guide them higher, up to your chest, pressing his palms flat against your breasts.

"Here," you say softly. "I want you here."

He doesn't need to be told twice. His fingers curl around the soft flesh, thumbs brushing over your nipples, and you shiver at the contact. He's learning by watching your face, paying attention to what makes your breath catch. When he circles his thumb around one nipple, your hips jerk forward involuntarily, grinding against his length again.

"Yeah," you breathe. "Just like that."

He gains confidence, squeezing and kneading, pinching lightly just to watch you gasp. Your head falls back and you let him play. Let him explore. His touch is worshipping, desperate, like he's trying to memorize every inch of you.

"Noona," he whines, hips bucking up. "Please. I need- I need you so bad."

You look down at him wrecked, hard, completely at your mercy and you feel a surge of affection so strong it almost hurts.

"I know, baby." You lean forward, bracing your hands on either side of his head, and let your tits brush against his chest. He tries to chase your mouth but you pull back just out of reach. "Tell me what you want."

"You," he gasps. "Just you. Always you."

"That's not specific enough."

His fingers dig into your hips, desperate. "I want you to ride me. I want to be inside you. I want to feel you cum around me. Please, noona. Please."

You reward him by lowering yourself just enough for the tip of him to press against your entrance. He moans, loud and broken, and his head falls back against the couch.

"Say it again," you whisper.

"Noona," he breathes. "My noona. Please tell me you love it. Please tell me you love when I call you that."

You sink down just an inch.

"I love it," you admit, voice barely above a whisper. "I love when you call me noona. I love the way it sounds coming from your mouth. I love how desperate you get.

A sob catches in his throat.

"I love it, Jake. I love when my good boy calls me noona."

You sink down fully, taking all of him in one slow, steady motion, and the sound he makes is inhuman. His back arches off the couch, mouth open in a silent scream, and you feel him throbbing inside you immediately.

You don't move at first. You just sit there, full of him, watching him come undone beneath you.

"Spit," you say suddenly.

His eyes flutter open, hazy with pleasure. "What?"

"Spit in my mouth."

Something dark flashes across his face. He reaches up, fingers trembling, and gathers saliva in his mouth. Then you lean down, lips parting, and he lets it fall from his lips to yours, warm and wet and obscene. You catch it on your tongue, moan at the taste of him, and then you lean back up and let it drip from your mouth down onto his chest.

"Again," you whisper.

He does it again. And again. Each time more desperate, more sloppy, until both of you are covered in spit and sweat and the evidence of how badly you want each other.

Then you start to move.

You ride him slow at first, which has him gasping your name. His hands find your tits again, playing with them, pinching and pulling until you're crying out above him. Every flick of his thumb sends a jolt through your body, makes you clench around him, makes him moan.

"Harder," he begs. "Please, noona, harder. I can take it. I'll take whatever you give me."

So you give him more. You bounce on his cock, fast and brutal, letting him watch the way your tits move with every thrust. His mouth waters. You can see it. He reaches up and spits directly onto your chest this time, watching his saliva drip down your skin, and you moan so loud you're sure someone could hear.

"Do you love it?" he gasps, thrusting up to meet you. "Do you love when I call you noona?"

"Yes," you cry out. "Yes, I love it, I love it so much-"

"Fuck- you're so fucking hot, say it again."

"I love it Jakey."

He grips your hips, flipping you both over so he's on top, and the sudden change in position makes you gasp. He doesn't enter you again, not yet. Instead he hovers over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other reaching down to guide himself through your soaked folds.

"You love being my noona," he says, and it's not a question anymore. It's a statement. "You love that I'm younger and you love that I make you feel this good."

"Yes." You're nodding frantically, beyond caring about pride. "Yes, Jake, yes-"

He pushes inside you in one sharp thrust and your vision goes white.

He fucks you hard no slow pace, no more teasing. Just desperate, animalistic rhythm, his hips slamming into yours, his mouth hovering over your chest. He spits on your nipples, watches the saliva glisten, then lowers his mouth to suck them clean. His tongue swirls around each peak, teeth grazing sensitive skin, and you're clawing at his back, leaving marks you know will last for days.

"Cum for me," he growls against your breast. "Cum on my cock, noona. Want to feel you squeeze me. Want you to soak me."

Your orgasm crashes over you without warning, your back arching off the couch, a scream tearing from your throat. You clamp down around him so tight he can barely move, but he keeps thrusting anyway chasing his own release, desperate and sloppy and perfect.

"Noona," he chants, thrusting erratically now. "Noona, noona, noona-"

His hips stutter, his eyes roll back, and he spills inside you with a broken cry of a mix of your name and noona.

He collapses onto your chest, both of you shaking, both of you soaked in sweat and spit and each other.

For a long moment, neither of you speak.

Then he lifts his head, chin resting on your chest, and gives you that familiar teasing smile but softer now, edges blurred by exhaustion and satisfaction.

"Love you, noona," he whispers.

You laugh, weak and breathless, and run your fingers through his sweaty hair.

"Love you too, loser."

if u made it to the end threaten me with a good time 🤤

[404sheepnotfound]

OVERFLOW - YJW

୨ৎ Summary : Jungwon’s love overflows—soft hands, needy touches, and a hunger for closeness that never quite fades. The more he has you, the more he wants, until every moment together blurs into something warm, consuming, and impossible to resist.

୨ৎ Pairing : husband! Jungwon x wife! reader

୨ৎ Wordcount : 1,6K

୨ৎ Warning : explicit scene, softdom!Jungwon, creampie, cumplay, unprotected sex (DON'T do it guys)

In the soft hush of your shared bedroom, lamplight casting golden hues over the rumpled sheets, your husband, Yang Jungwon, gazes at you with that familiar tenderness, his dark eyes brimming with unwavering devotion. He's always been respectful and soft with you. Gentle hands tracing your skin like you're fragile porcelain, whispers of love murmured against your temple before every kiss. But there's one obsession that burns quietly beneath his calm exterior: the primal need to cum inside your pussy every single time you have sex. 

He cradles your face now, thumb brushing your lower lip as he leans in, voice a husky promise. "Let me fill you up tonight, love," he breathes, already hard and pressing against your thigh, his cock twitching with anticipation for that deep, claiming release only you can give him. 

You melt into his touch, a soft whimper escaping as his thumb parts your lips, your tongue flicking out to taste you. 

“Jungwon…” you murmur, your hand sliding down his chest to feel his abs. 

The thick bulge starts straining in his boxers. He groans low, hips bucking, but his free hand catches your wrist gently. He shifts over you, pinning you lightly beneath his warm weight.

“Ssh, patience, my love,” he whispers, lips brushing yours in a featherlight kiss that deepens instantly, his tongue sweeping in to tangle with yours. The kiss was slow and thorough, while his fingers trailed down your neck, over the swell of your breasts, thumb circling your hardening nipple until you arch up with a gasp. He breaks the kiss to mouth along your jaw, down to suckle at your throat, leaving faint marks.  

“My perfect girl,” he whispers against your mouth, voice thick with need. 

You whimper softly, your fingers digging into his shoulders, pulling him closer. His hard cock presses against your thigh, already leaking precum that smears hotly on your skin. 

"Jungwon... please," you breathe, arching up to meet him. 

He smiles that tender, possessive smile, lining himself up before notching the fat head of his cock at your entrance, rubbing it through your wetness before pushing in slow, inch by inch. Your pussy clenches around him, greedy for every veiny ridge, and he hisses through his teeth, forehead pressing to yours. 

"So tight for me... always taking me so well," he praises, voice rough with restraint as he bottoms out, his balls snug against your ass. The outline of his cock presses visibly against your lower belly, where his cock presses deep inside, and he groans, palm flattening over it. 

“Look at that,” he praises, eyes locked on the swell. “You take me so well, love. So tight and perfect for my cock...” His hips rock forward in a slow thrust, the bulge shifting with each movement, making you gasp at the fullness. He starts a steady rhythm, pulling out halfway before sliding back in, grinding deep to hit that spot that makes your toes curl. 

You cling to him, nails scraping his back as pleasure builds in waves. His mouth finds your neck, sucking softly, leaving faint marks of ownership. "That's it, baby," he murmurs, pace quickening just a touch. "Let me feel you squeeze me.” 

He angles his hips, thrusting harder now, the bulge in your belly more pronounced with every plunge. Your clit grinds against his pelvis, sparks flying up your spine. "Wonnie—," you cry out, overwhelmed. 

He kisses you messily, swallowing your moans, his free hand pinching your nipple gently before soothing it with his thumb. 

"Cum for me, sweetheart," he urges, voice husky. "I want to feel you soak my cock." The praise tips you over, your orgasm crashing through you. He moans loudly, hips stuttering as he chases his release. 

"Fuck, yes—take my cum," he growls softly, burying himself deep. Hot spurts fill your pussy, his cock pulsing as he empties inside you, until it overflows, leaking out around him. He doesn't pull out, staying seated as he catches his breath, kissing your forehead, your cheeks, your lips. 

But he's not done. That needy glint returns to his eyes. "Need you again," he whispers, starting to move once more. His cock is still hard and slick with your mixed juices. You whine, oversensitive, but your hips buck up instinctively. He fucks you slower this time, savoring every drag, the bulge reappearing as he bottoms out. 

"So good for me," he praises between thrusts. "My wrecked little wife, pussy full of my cum.” His mouth finds your breast, tongue laving your nipple before he sucks hard, teeth grazing just enough to make you cry out.  

The pressure coils tight in your core, his cock hitting that spot inside that makes stars burst behind your eyes. "That's it, my perfect girl," he murmurs against your skin, lips trailing kisses everywhere he can reach. "Squirt for me, soak my cock before I breed you full." 

Your walls spasm wildly, gushing around him in hot spurts that drench his pelvis and the sheets. You squirt hard, body shaking as he fucks you through it, the bulge in your belly shifting with every plunge. "Fuck, yes—wrecked for me," he growls softly, pride lacing his tone, and then he's following, cock swelling as he buries deep and unloads. Thick ropes of cum paint your insides.

Jungwon doesn't let you go for long. With a renewed, predatory hunger, he doesn't start with soft kisses this time. Instead, he spreads your legs wide, pinning your knees back toward your shoulders so your pussy is completely exposed, glistening and open to his gaze. 

He reaches down, sliding two fingers into your drenched heat to stretch you, making a wet, squelching sound that echoes in the quiet room.  "Look at you," he rasps, his voice thick and vulgar. He pulls his fingers out with a loud pop and replaces them with his cock. 

He drives himself home in one heavy, brutal thrust that makes you gasp, your back arching off the mattress. He bottoms out completely, his balls slapping hard against your ass. He shifts his weight, propping himself up on his elbows so he can look down. He wants to see it. He watches with an obsessed intensity as his thick shaft disappears into your folds, the skin of your pussy stretching taut and translucent around him. 

"I can feel my cock hitting your womb. I'm going to fill you so full you won't be able to walk." 

“Won–” The friction becomes unbearable, your walls clamping down on him in desperate, rhythmic pulses. You're sobbing his name, your head tossing from side to side, as he picks up the speed. He's drilling into you now, short, fast stabs that target your G-spot with surgical precision. 

He growls, his own climax hitting him like a freight train. He lets out a guttural moan, his hips locking against yours as he pumps a massive, pulsing load deep into your cervix. He doesn't pull out; he stays buried, grinding his pelvis into you, ensuring every single drop of his thick cum is forced deep inside. 

The third orgasm rips through you violently, squirting harder, soaking his thighs. He follows with a guttural moan, pumping yet another load into you, cum dripping down your legs now. You're utterly wrecked, limbs heavy, pussy throbbing, mind hazy with bliss. He stays inside, plugging you full, his body curled protectively around yours. 

After a few minutes of heavy breathing, he slowly, agonizingly withdraws. He stays hovering over you, watching with a smirk of pure possession as the seal breaks. A thick, creamy mixture of his seed and your juices begins to overflow, leaking slowly from your gaping hole and trailing down your thighs in white streaks. 

Jungwon pulls you up, guiding you to sit astride him while he leans back against the headboard, his legs spread and his sculpted abs on full display, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. 

"Come here," he murmurs, his voice a low, vibrating rumble. 

You sink onto him, but not in the way you usually do. He guides you so that you're riding his torso, your pussy pressed directly against the hard, defined ridges of his stomach.  

Jungwon lets out a shaky breath, his hands gripping your hips to hold you firmly against him. He loves the sight of your drenched, swollen, heat-smeared across his toned abs. He begins to move you, grinding your pussy slowly and deliberately against his abs. The friction is electric, the wetness of his seed acting as a lubricant as you slide over his muscles. 

"You're painting me with your mess. My cum is all over my stomach because you couldn't hold a single drop of it." 

He watches your expression, loving how wrecked and sensitive you are, your breath hitching as he marks himself with the evidence of how thoroughly he's filled you. 

As the intensity begins to mellow, the predatory hunger in his eyes softens back into that familiar, overwhelming devotion. He shifts, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you flush against his chest, his lips migrating from your mouth to your jaw, then your neck, showering you in a relentless stream of tender, lingering kisses. 

"You did so well for me, baby," he praises, his voice returning to that soft, melodic tone that makes your heart melt. 

He eventually helps you up, his movements gentle and supportive, and leads you toward the bathroom. In the shower, the atmosphere shifts from raw lust to pure, domestic bliss. The warm water cascades over both of you, washing away the salt and the seed, but Jungwon doesn't stop touching you.

He soaps your skin with slow, reverent strokes, his hands lingering on your curves as if he's memorizing them. He kisses every inch of your shoulder, your collarbone, and the slope of your breast, whispering sweet nothings and promises of forever against your skin. He holds you under the spray, forehead pressed against yours, his eyes full of an adoration that is just as intense as his obsession.

"I love you so much," he breathes, kissing your eyelids and the tip of your nose. "I'm never letting you go."

[hoonguin]

꒰﹕﹒jealou-sea (of you) ❀ park jongseong

⌗ in which . . . you and park jongseong, engaged by an arrangement, lose all restraint in one jealous penthouse night

流星 ໑ . .  fiancé!jay x fem!reader

⌗ includes . . . smut (18+), possessive partner, arranged engagement, vulgar language, oral sex (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, so much overstimulation, jay is aggressive as shit, degradation & praise mix, creampie, shit ton of filthy talk, exhibitionism, unprotected sex (don’t), just a lot of filthy things in general, please don’t imprison me 💔 ➜ mdni ! or do.. it's up to you ♡ purely a work of fiction, none of this is real | wc 5.9k

♪ el’s bubble: man, i miss jay 🫩 ya’ll i dug real hard into my saved documents to find this beast from back in december (this was made because i was stuck in an airport and i was feeling FREAKY 😛 i just remember making this incredibly freaky.. like multiple rounds type shit.. & i had to time out and stuff because what the hell was this 🥀 yes, even president el spiraled over the filthiness of this ! I’M A CHANGED & LESS FREAKED OUT EL NOW, OKAY ☹️) so, yes, this is five months old. i was incredibly obsessed with this song too so there’s that . . gotta keep pushing even though i’m lowkenuinely going insane over the mafialeader!riki fic 💪 not proofread, enjoy — likes, reblogs, and feedbacks are deeply appreciated on here ♡ requests are always open if you want to see me write something specific ۫ ׅ

tags: @wonscapes @simsimluver @maishee @grdientlips @kristynaaah @psychicdazestrawberry @heesroses @vmpiricou @seungiesdoll | just ask if you want to be a part of my tag list ˙𐃷˙

now playing . . . love me harder by ariana grande & the weeknd

The night begins in a polished silence that feels heavier than conversation.

It's the kind that follows a public dinner where everything was perfectly performed but nothing felt real, and in the private elevator ride upward, you and Jay stand side by side without touching, yet hyper-aware of each other's presence in a way that makes even the smallest movement feel loaded with things neither of you are saying.

You don't look at him. 

You don't need to. 

You can feel the restrained energy radiating off him, the way he's holding himself with that infuriating composure that makes everyone else look slightly unsure of themselves. 

The elevator's soft lighting catches the sharp line of his jaw, the fitted polo shirt that hugs his broad shoulders and chest in a way that should be illegal at a formal event. 

You've spent too long pretending you don't notice these things, the way he fills a room without trying, the calm authority in his posture, how unfairly put-together he looks even now in private.

But tonight it's way, way, way worse. 

Tonight you keep catching the small things you're not supposed to care about.

The way he looked across the table when someone else made you laugh. 

The controlled silence he kept instead of reacting. 

The fact that he never asks questions he doesn't already know the answer to. 

Worse than anything else is the realization you refuse to say out loud, that you don't just see him clearly, you always have. 

Even when you were supposed to be treating him like a contract, not a weakness.

The dinner replays in your mind on a loop. 

The rival heir, some visiting businessman's son with a silver tongue and wandering eyes, had spent the entire evening making his intentions so damn clear. 

He'd leaned too close when he spoke to you, laughed too loudly at your quiet responses, let his gaze drag over you like he had every right to look. 

His hand had found your arm at one point, fingers lingering on your bare skin, and you'd felt Jay's attention sharpen from across the table.

Though he hadn't said a word, he had just watched you both, composed as marble.

It stung more than anger would have.

When the elevator doors open to the penthouse, the space is vast, expensive, and quiet in a way that should feel comforting but instead feels isolating. 

Floor-to-ceiling windows display the glittering sprawl of the city below, but neither of you pauses to admire it. 

You move through the room separately, shedding the weight of public appearances without acknowledging how tense the air between you has become.

You head toward the walk-in closet without a word, a room so large it feels like its own world, and begin removing your jewelry slowly, methodically. 

The diamond earrings first, then the bracelet, each piece placed with deliberate care on the velvet tray. 

Your fingers find the clasp of your necklace, but the angle is awkward, and you abandon it in favor of working on the pins in your hair.

It's something to do with your hands. 

Something to ground you while your thoughts stay tangled on the dinner, on the way Jay barely reacted, on everything he didn't say.

You're so lost in your own head that you don't hear him approach.

He enters without announcing himself, stopping just inside the doorway rather than fully stepping in. 

The silence stretches. 

For a moment there's only the sound of fabric shifting and the distant hum of the city filtering through glass walls.

You don't turn around.

"Jay, can you help me with the zipper?"

It comes out casually. 

Almost way too casually, like you're trying to ignore how aware you are of him standing there. 

How the temperature in the room seems to have risen ten degrees just from his proximity.

He approaches in silence. 

You feel him before you see him, the warmth of his body, the subtle shift of air as he moves closer. 

His hands are steady when they reach for the zipper at the back of your dress, but there's a pause before he touches you that feels like hesitation he doesn't allow himself to name.

Then the zipper begins to move.

He takes his time. 

Slowly, with deliberate patience that feels almost like punishment. 

The metal teeth give way one by one, exposing the smooth skin of your back inch by inch, and you can feel his gaze following the progress like a physical touch.

You exhale in frustration.

"Damn it, Jay, speed it up."

Your voice is sharper than you intended. 

Behind you, Jay goes entirely still.

"This isn't part of the agreement people think exists between us."

His voice is calm and controlled. 

But you can tell that there's something underneath it, something dark and tightly leashed.

You turn your head slightly, just enough to catch his profile in your peripheral vision.

"Neither is the way you keep acting like you're unaffected when you clearly notice everything."

That makes him pause. 

The zipper stops halfway down your back.

"Excuse me?"

You turn more fully now, and there's something dangerous in the way his dark eyes meet yours. 

You've spent too many nights biting your tongue, too many public events swallowing the words that want to spill out. 

Tonight, something in you snaps.

"You deadass just sat there all evening, watching that guy come close to me. You didn’t even bother saying a fucking word at all while he—" You cut yourself off, jaw tightening.

"While he what?" Jay's voice drops lower. "While he looked at you like you belonged to him? While he touched your arm and made you smile? While he spent the entire dinner trying to fuck you with his eyes?"

The crudeness in his tone catches you off guard. 

He never speaks like this, never lets the polished veneer slip enough to show the raw hunger underneath.

"Please, just look at your pathetic self," you say quietly, almost to yourself. "You're shaking."

He is. 

Just barely, a fine tremor in his hands that he's trying to hide.

"God, it eats me alive."

The confession comes out in a low, controlled voice that cracks at the edges.

"Watching someone else look at you tonight. Having to sit there pretending it didn't matter. Pretending I don't—" He stops himself, jaw clenching so hard you swear you can see the muscle jump.

You should step away. 

You should remind him of all the practical reasons this arrangement exists, all the boundaries you've carefully maintained. 

Instead, you hear yourself saying:

"Our arrangement was built on exactly that kind of emotional distance."

The words come out pointed, almost cruel. 

You're pushing him. 

You know damn well you're pushing him.

"Is jealousy really the first thing you've decided to break the rules over?"

Something shifts in his expression. 

The mask slips, just for a moment, and beneath it you see something raw and unguarded desperation, maybe. 

Want. 

Hunger that's been starved for too long.

"It's not just jealousy."

He steps closer. 

Close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his chest, close enough that his breath ghosts across your temple.

"It's the fact that I can't tell anymore where the performance ends and what I actually feel begins."

The words hang between you. 

Your heart pounds against your ribs so hard you're certain he can hear it. 

This is the closest either of you has ever come to saying it, the thing that's been building for months in loaded glances and accidentally tender moments and nights spent lying awake thinking about the person sleeping in the next room.

Then he reaches for you.

His hand cups your cheek, gentle despite the tension radiating through every line of his body. 

His thumb traces the line of your jaw, and his eyes search your face like he's looking for permission, for rejection, for anything that might stop him from doing what he's about to do.

You don't stop him.

He leans in and kisses you.

It starts soft — almost tentative, a question more than a demand. 

Then, without warning, you make a sound against his mouth, something small and involuntary, and whatever restraint he had left shatters completely.

His other hand slides into your hair, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss. 

The zipper, still halfway down, becomes irrelevant as his hands find your waist, your hips, pulling you against him with an urgency that makes your knees weak. 

You feel the hard planes of his chest, the strength in his arms as he holds you, and something hot and demanding pools low in your abdomen.

"Tell me to stop," he murmurs against your lips. "Tell me this is just… tell me you don't want this, and I'll walk away. I'll never bring it up again."

You don't tell him to stop.

Because who are you to tell him to stop? 

Instead, you reach for the hem of his polo shirt, pulling it up and over his head in one smooth motion. 

The fabric falls to the floor, forgotten, and for a moment you just look at him. 

The defined muscles of his chest and abdomen, the way the low light plays across his skin, the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

"You're staring."

"I'm just appreciating." Your voice is dry, but there's no hiding the way your gaze keeps dropping. "Don't pretend you don't know what you look like."

Something like a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. 

Then his hands are on you again, sliding the dress off your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet in a whisper of expensive fabric. 

You stand before him in a pair of silk shorts, a bra, and underwear, suddenly aware of how exposed you are, how hungry his eyes look as they travel over you.

"Beautiful," he breathes. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this. How long I’ve thought about when this would finally come. About—"

He doesn't finish the sentence. 

Instead, he pulls you into another kiss, this one deeper, more demanding. 

His hands find the waistband of your shorts and tug them down without hesitation, leaving you in just your undergarments. 

The cool air hits your heated skin, but you barely notice because he's looking at you like you're an oasis in the middle of a dessert. 

You can see the effect this is having on him. 

The prominent outline of his erection pressing against his tailored pants, straining against the fabric. 

The way his chest rises and falls more quickly now. 

The dark intensity in his eyes that makes you feel both powerful and completely at his mercy.

"Jay." His name comes out as a whisper. "Fuck, just… touch me already, please."

He doesn't need to be asked twice.

His hands slide up your sides, thumbs tracing the curve of your breasts through the thin fabric of your bra. 

Your head falls back as he explores, learning the map of your body with agonizing thoroughness. 

When he finally unclasps the bra and lets it fall, the sound you make is embarrassingly needy, a soft, desperate whimper that you can't hold back.

"Already making sounds for me?" His voice is rough, pleased. "And I've barely even touched you yet."

"I'm not—" You try to protest, but his hand slides lower, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear, and whatever you were going to say dissolves into a gasp.

"Oh, you're not what? Not wet? Because I can feel how soaked you are through these panties." He presses his palm against you, and your hips jerk involuntarily. "Feel that? That's all for me, because of me."

Your usual silence is crumbling. 

Every brush of his fingers, every press of his palms against your heated skin, pulls another sound from your throat, louder than the last. 

For someone who's spent the entire relationship holding your tongue, keeping your thoughts locked away, you're making an awful lot of noise now.

And he notices.

Of course he does. 

"You're so vocal tonight." His voice is ragged, thick with desire. "I've never heard you make these sounds before. The quiet, composed woman I'm engaged to, the one who barely says two words at dinner, look at you now. Whimpering for me like I’m all that matters."

"I hate you," you manage, but it comes out breathless and unconvincing.

"No, you don't." He presses a finger inside you, and your knees buckle. "You love this. You love, love, love that I can make you fall apart like this. Damn it, just admit it already, won’t you.”

"I—"

"Admit it."

"Fuck, yes." The word tears out of you, louder than you intended. "Yes, I love it. I love your hands on me so, so much. I've thought about this—about you, god—"

He groans against your neck, the sound vibrating through your whole body. "Tell me. Tell me what you've thought about."

"Your mouth." You're past embarrassment now, past holding back. "Your hands. Shit, how you'd feel inside me. How you'd sound when you lose control, things like that."

"Fuck." He pulls his hand away, and you nearly sob at the loss. "I need to taste you right now, pretty ."

He turns you around, walking you backward until your knees hit the edge of the bed. 

You fall onto the plush mattress, and he follows you down, settling his weight over you. 

For a moment he just looks at you, hair fanned across the pillows, chest heaving, eyes dark with want.

"Tell me what you want," he says. "I’ll hear you out… I need to hear you say it, use your words for me, pretty."

You reach up, palms flat against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingers.

"You, god, it’s you, Jay. I want you, all of you, actually. Your mouth, your fingers, your cock—I want everything."

He exhales shakily. 

Then he's kissing down your body, lips trailing fire across your collarbone, your sternum, the soft skin of your stomach. 

When he hooks his fingers into your underwear and pulls it off, you're completely bare beneath him.

"Spread your legs for me, gorgeous."

The command makes heat flood through you. 

You obey, and he settles between your thighs, breath warm against your most sensitive skin. 

Then his mouth is on you, and you genuinely forgot how to keep your mouth shut.

A loud, broken moan tears from your throat. 

Your back arches off the bed as his tongue works against you, slow, deliberate strokes that make your thighs tremble. 

He finds the spots that make you gasp, the pressure that makes your hands fist in the sheets, and he exploits every single one.

"Jay—oh god—oh fuck—"

"That's it." The vibration of his voice against you makes you jerk. "Let me hear you. I want the whole building to know who's making you feel this good."

Your usual silence shatters completely. 

Moans and gasps and desperate cries spill from your lips without permission, each one louder than the last. 

You can't control it, can't hold back, not when he's doing that with his tongue, not when his hands are gripping your thighs to hold you open for him.

"More, please, please, fuck—don't stop—"

He hums against you, and the pleasure spikes. Your hips roll against his face without your permission, chasing the sensation, and he lets you. 

Encourages it, even. 

His hands slide under your ass to tilt you closer to his mouth.

"You taste so fucking good," he growls against your flesh. "I could do this for hours, gorgeous. Eat this pretty pussy until you can't think, can't speak, can't do anything but come on my tongue."

The filthy words send a jolt through you. 

You've never heard him talk like this, never imagined the composed, controlled man you're engaged to had this side to him.

"You're close, aren't you?" He sucks on your clit, and you scream. "I can feel it. You're shaking. Come for me. Come on my face."

"Jay—Jay—I'm—"

The orgasm crashes through you without warning. 

Your whole body seizes, back bowing off the bed as pleasure whites out your vision. 

You hear yourself screaming his name, but it sounds distant, muffled by the roaring in your ears. 

He works you through it, tongue never stopping, drawing out every last aftershock until you're twitching and oversensitive.

When he finally pulls back, you're trembling and breathless. 

He rises over you again, lips glistening with your arousal, and you can see how much this has affected him, the heavy-lidded desire in his eyes, the way his body is straining toward yours.

"I want to be inside you," he growls. "Now, literally now. I can't fucking wait anymore."

He reaches for his pants, undoing them with shaking hands and shoving them down his thighs. 

His boxers follow, and then he's naked before you, and you have a moment to appreciate the body he's been hiding under all those perfectly fitted polo shirts.

He's gorgeous. 

Lean muscle and defined lines and hard, flushed cock jutting from a nest of dark hair. 

Thick. 

The tip glistening with precum.

He catches you staring and smirks. "See something you like?"

"Stop fishing for compliments and just fuck me already."

A surprised laugh escapes him, the first genuine sound you've heard from him all night. 

Then he's climbing over you, positioning himself at your entrance, and the laughter fades into something much more intense.

"Tell me if you need me to stop."

You nod. 

He pushes forward, slowly, letting your body adjust to the stretch. 

The sensation is overwhelming, the fullness, the intimacy of being connected like this after months of careful distance.

"Fuck—you're so tight, so sexy." His voice is strained. "So wet, so fucking wet. You're dripping around me."

"Move. Please. I need you to move."

He obeys. 

Slow at first, deep strokes that make you gasp with each thrust. 

His forehead rests against yours, breath mingling, eyes locked on your face like he's memorizing every reaction.

"You feel incredible." He groans, hips rolling. "Better than I could’ve ever imagined, and I imagined this a lot, baby. Every night. Fucking my fist thinking about you."

"Jay—"

"I'd think about your face when you come. The sounds you'd make. Now… shit—here you are, underneath me, taking my cock so well."

His words make you clench around him, and he hisses. 

You're being vocal again, gasps and moans and cries that fill the room, each sound spilling out without your permission.

"You like that? You like hearing how much I want you?" He thrusts deeper, hitting a spot that makes you cry out. "You like knowing that your fake fiancé has been obsessing over you? That I've been desperate to get my hands on you?"

"Yes—yes—fuck, more—harder—"

"Harder?" He obeys, snapping his hips faster. "Like this? You want me to ruin you?"

"Yes! God, yes, ruin me—please—"

His pace increases. 

You're being so loud now, louder than you've ever been during sex, louder than you thought possible. 

Each thrust punches another sound out of you, and the more noise you make, the faster he goes.

"That's it. Scream for me. Let me hear you." His voice is ragged, barely controlled. "The neighbors are going to know exactly who's making you feel this good. They're going to hear you screaming my name and know that you're mine."

"I'm yours, I'm yours—only yours—"

"Say that again, gorgeous."

"I'm yours, Jay! Fuck—yes—right there—don't stop—"

He shifts your leg higher over his hip, changing the angle, and suddenly he's hitting that spot with every thrust. 

The pleasure is overwhelming, building inside you like a wave about to break.

"You're going to come for me again, aren't you? I can feel you squeezing me. You're so, so close."

"Yes—so close—please—"

"Fuck, come—come on my cock. Let me feel you."

The orgasm tears through you, even more intense than the first. 

You scream his name, back arching, nails raking down his back hard enough to leave marks. 

He groans above you, hips stuttering as your walls clench around him, but he doesn't stop. 

He fucks you through it, maintaining the pace, drawing out your pleasure until you're trembling and overstimulated.

"One more," he growls. "Give me one more."

"I can't—too much—"

"You can, you will. For me—just for me."

He pulls out suddenly, and you whimper at the loss. 

But then he's flipping you over, pulling your hips up until you're on your hands and knees, face pressed into the pillow.

"This position." His hands smooth over your ass, squeezing. "I've thought about this. Having you like this. Face down, ass up, completely at my mercy."

He pushes back inside in one smooth thrust, and you moan into the pillow.

"No." He tangles a hand in your hair, pulling your head back. "I want to hear you, pretty. Don't muffle those lovely sounds."

He starts moving, harder now, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. 

You're loud again, cries and moans and desperate sounds that echo off the walls.

"You take me so deep like this." His grip tightens in your hair. "Feel that? Feel how deep I am? I'm hitting spots you didn't even know existed."

"Yes—yes—so deep—fuck—"

"This is what you do to me." His hips snap forward, relentless. "You drive me insane. Walking around this penthouse in those tiny ass shorts. Cooking dinner with that concentrated look on your face. Making me want you when I'm supposed to be pretending I don't."

"Jay—"

"I've jerked off to the thought of you more times than I can count. Thought about bending you over every surface in this apartment. About making you scream so loud the whole city knows you belong to me."

His words are pushing you toward another peak. 

You're so loud now, practically screaming with each thrust, and every sound you make seems to drive him faster.

"I love hearing you." His voice is strained, desperate. "I love knowing I'm the one making you lose control. The quiet, composed woman everyone else sees—she doesn't exist when I'm inside you. It's just me. Just us."

"Harder—please—I'm going to—"

"Come for me, pretty. Come on my cock again. I want to feel you fall apart."

The third orgasm hits you like a freight train. You scream, body convulsing, and he groans behind you as your walls clench around him. 

This time he doesn't hold back, his rhythm becomes erratic, hips pistoning faster, chasing his own release.

"I'm going to come," he growls. "Where do you want it? Inside? On your ass? Tell me—"

"Inside, please—fuck, Jay, I need to feel you—"

He thrusts deep one final time, burying himself to the hilt as he comes with a guttural groan. 

You feel the pulse of his release, the heat flooding your insides, and it triggers one last small orgasm that makes you whimper.

He collapses beside you, both of you breathing hard, bodies slick with sweat. 

For a long moment, there's only the sound of your ragged breathing and the distant hum of the city.

Then he laughs, low and exhausted and genuine.

"I had no idea you were that loud."

You bury your face in the pillow, suddenly self-conscious. "I've never—I'm not usually—"

"I'm not complaining." He pulls you against him, pressing a kiss to your temple. "It was the hottest thing I've ever experienced, seriously. Every sound you made just made me want you more."

You're quiet for a moment, tracing patterns on his chest.

"We should do this again," you murmur.

He snorts. "Give me ten minutes and we will."

"That's not what I—" You swat at his chest. "I meant—this. Us, you know… not pretending to hate each other's asses anymore."

His expression softens. 

He tilts your chin up, making you meet his eyes.

"I don't want to pretend anymore either. I haven't wanted to for a long time."

"You could have said something."

"So could you."

Fair point.

He rolls onto his side, facing you, one hand propping up his head.

"I have a confession." His voice is lighter now, teasing. "When you said you wanted to 'do this again'—I was hoping you meant right now. I'm not done with you yet."

"Already? Most men need recovery time."

"I'm not most men." He grins, and there's something predatory in it. "And you haven't seen everything I want to do to you yet."

You raise an eyebrow. "Such as?"

"Ride me."

The command makes heat pool in your stomach again, despite your exhaustion.

"You want me on top?"

"I want to watch you. Want to see your face when you take what you need from me. Want to see how pretty you look bouncing on my dick."

"Wow, you’re so eloquent… you have a way with words."

"I have a lot of things." His hand slides down your side, gripping your hip. "And I plan to show you all of them before this night is over."

True to his word, he's hard again within minutes, helped along by your hand wrapping around him, stroking him to fullness while he groans and bit your shoulder.

"Get up here," he demands, pulling you on top of him. "Straddle me. Face me."

You position yourself over him, sinking down slowly. 

The angle is different, deeper in some ways, shallower in others, and you have control for the first time in your whole life. 

"Take what you want," he says, hands settling on your thighs. "Use me."

You start to move, experimenting with different rhythms and angles. 

His eyes never leave your face, watching every expression, every flicker of pleasure.

"That's it. Just like that." His thumbs stroke over your hip bones. "You look so fucking good like this. Taking what you need. Using me for your pleasure."

"You feel—" You break off with a moan as you find the right angle. "So good, so, so, so fucking good. You fill me up so perfectly."

"Made for me." His hands slide up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples. "This pussy was made for my cock. We fit together perfectly like jigsaw puzzles.”

You're getting loud again, moans filling the room as you ride him faster. 

He groans beneath you, hips lifting to meet each of your movements.

"That's it, baby. Ride me. Take what you need." He pinches your nipples, and you cry out. "You're so sexy when you're loud. I love hearing how good I make you feel."

"Jay, I'm—"

"Uh-uh, wait for me, gorgeous. I want to come with you this time."

You slow down, trying to hold back, and he growls his approval.

"Good girl. So good for me. You listen so well."

He sits up suddenly, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest. 

The new angle presses your clit against his pelvis with every movement, and you keen at the sensation.

"I want to feel you fall apart around me while I come inside you." His voice is rough against your ear. "Can you do that for me? Can you come with me?"

"Yes—yes—please—"

"Good. Now."

He thrusts up into you hard, and you both shatter at the same time. 

You scream his name as pleasure crashes through you, feeling him pulse inside you, filling you up again. 

He groans against your neck, teeth grazing your shoulder, hands tight enough on your hips to bruise.

When it's over, you collapse against his chest, completely spent.

"Round three in five minutes," he murmurs against your hair.

You laugh—weak and exhausted but genuine. "You're going to kill me."

"What a way to go."

But he's not joking. 

True to his word, he's hard again within minutes, his stamina is inhuman, and you're beginning to wonder if you've created a monster.

What kind of shit has this guy been pulling off in the gym to achieve so much? 

"Turn around," he says, hands guiding your hips. "I want you facing the other way. I want to watch that pretty ass bounce on my cock."

You hesitate. "You want—"

"Now." His voice leaves no room for argument. "I want to see you from behind while you ride me. I want to watch my cock disappear inside you."

Heat floods through you at his words. 

You've never been particularly adventurous in bed before, mostly because you've never had a partner who made you want to be. 

But Jay is looking at you like you're a feast he's been starved for, and you find yourself turning around, positioning yourself over him with your back to his chest.

"That's it." His hands smooth over your ass, kneading the flesh. "God, look at you. So eager. So desperate for my cock."

You sink down onto him slowly, and the new angle makes you gasp. 

He fills you differently like this, deeper in some ways, the pressure concentrated against your front wall.

"Fuck—you feel even bigger like this—"

"I am bigger." He grips your hips, helping you find a rhythm. "And you're going to take all of me. Every. Single. Inch."

You start to move, lifting yourself up and sliding back down. 

The sensation is overwhelming, the way he stretches you, the way his hands feel on your ass, the knowledge that he's watching himself disappear inside you.

"That's it. Ride me. Show me how much you want it."

"I do—I want it—want you—"

"Then take it harder. Faster. Fuck yourself on my cock like you mean it."

You obey, moving faster, grinding down with each stroke. 

You're loud again, moans and gasps and desperate little cries that fill the room. 

True to form, the louder you get, the more responsive he becomes.

"Yes—yes—oh god—right there—"

"Right there?" He thrusts up to meet you, hitting that spot perfectly. "Like this? You want me to keep hitting that spot while you scream for me?"

"Yes! Please—don't stop—harder—"

"Harder?" His grip tightens on your hips, and he starts fucking up into you with purpose. "You want me to ruin this pussy? Make it so no one else will ever feel right inside you?"

You're screaming now, completely beyond controlling the sounds coming out of your mouth. 

Every thrust punches another cry from your throat, and you can hear how wet you are, the obscene sounds of your bodies meeting echoing through the room.

"Jay—Jay—I'm—oh fuck—I'm going to—"

"Not yet." He stills your hips, and you whimper. "You don't come until I say. You understand? You hold it."

"I can't—it's too much—please—"

"You can. And you will." He starts moving again, slower this time, torturously slow. "I want to feel you clench around me when I tell you to come. I want you begging for it."

"Please—please, fuck, just let me—"

"Tell me you're mine first."

"I'm yours—I'm yours—only yours—"

"Say it louder."

"I’m yours! Jay, I'm yours—please—please let me come—"

"Good girl. Now come for me. Come all over my cock."

The orgasm crashes through you like a tsunami. 

You scream, actually scream, back arching, body shaking as wave after wave of pleasure tears through you. 

He moans beneath you, and you feel him pulsing inside, filling you up again as he follows you over the edge.

You collapse forward, barely catching yourself on your hands, breathing ragged and uneven. 

He's still inside you, still half-hard, and when he shifts, you whimper from the oversensitivity.

"One more," he growls. "I know you have one more in you."

"Jay, I literally cannot—I can't feel my legs—I… what the fuck are you even made out of?"

"I'll do the work then." He maneuvers you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up so your ass is in the air. "You just lie there and take it. Let me use you."

"Use me?"

"Did I stutter?" He runs a hand down your spine, making you shiver. "I've been fantasizing about you for months. Years, maybe. And now that I have you, I'm going to take everything you'll give me."

He enters you from behind again, this time with your face pressed into the mattress, your hips propped up on a pillow. 

The position is sinful, animalistic, and you feel so deliciously full.

"This is my favorite position," he admits, voice strained. "Having you like this. Face down, ass up. Unable to do anything but take what I give you."

"Then give it to me." Your voice is muffled by the sheets. "Give me everything."

He starts moving, slow, deep strokes that make your toes curl. 

The sounds you're making are embarrassing now, whimpers and moans and desperate little cries that you can't control.

"You're so loud tonight." He groans, thrusting deeper. "I love it. I love hearing how good I make you feel. The woman who barely speaks at dinner being reduced to this. Screaming my name. Begging for my cock."

"More—please—more—"

"More?" He snaps his hips forward, and you yelp. "Like this? You want me to fuck you harder?"

"Yes! Harder—faster—please—"

He obeys. 

His pace increases, and you're being fucked into the mattress so hard the headboard is hitting the wall. 

Each thrust is punctuated by a slap of skin against skin and a desperate sound from your throat.

"This what you wanted?" He grunts. "Wanted me to use this pretty pussy? Wanted to be ruined?"

"Yes—yes—ruin me—please—"

"You're close again, aren't you? I can feel you tightening around me. You're going to come on my cock again like a good girl."

"I can't—I've already—"

"You can. You will. And you're going to scream my name when you do."

His hand snakes around to your front, fingers finding your clit, and you sob at the dual sensation. 

He's thrusting into you and rubbing circles on your most sensitive spot, and it's too much, it's everything.

"Come for me. Now."

Your final orgasm rips through you with an intensity that makes your vision go white. 

You scream his name, scream it like a prayer, like a plea, like the only word you know, and you feel him follow you over the edge with a guttural groan.

He collapses on top of you, both of you shaking, sweat-slicked and thoroughly spent. 

For a long moment, there's nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing and the pounding of your hearts.

Later, much later, you're both tangled in silk sheets, bodies exhausted and satisfied. 

You've lost count of how many times he's made you come, how many positions he's bent you into, how many filthy things he's whispered in your ear.

"You know," you say, voice hoarse from screaming, "I always thought you were the composed, controlled type."

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "I was. Until you."

"Me? I didn't do anything."

"You exist." His arm tightens around your waist. "You walk around this apartment looking like that. You cook meals in those tiny shorts. You bite your lip when you're concentrating. You exist, and it drives me insane."

You're quiet for a moment, processing this.

"I've been pretending too," you admit softly. "Pretending I didn't notice you. Pretending the arrangement didn't feel like anything."

"And now?"

"Now I don't want to pretend anymore."

He smiles against your skin, genuine and warm.

"Good, I have no intention of letting you go."

"Possessive."

"You love it."

You consider protesting, but then again, he's not wrong.

"Maybe a little."

"Good answer." He shifts, pulling you closer. "Sleep now. I have plans for you in the morning."

"More? What the fuck?"

"Many, many more."

You drift off with his arm around your waist and his breath warm against your shoulder, thinking maybe the arrangement was always going to lead here. 

Maybe there was never a version of this story where you remained indifferent to each other.

Some things are worth breaking the rules for.

Even the ones you wrote yourself.

⭐️ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

[enhais7]

Let’s discuss the hypocrisy behind @/enhais6.

This thread is regarding the platforming of victim shaming and misrepresentation of victims in general.

On Sunday, they posted this ask.

This was regarding a situation that occurred outside of the server, one which only a few knew about.

Not only did you allow someone to share this individual’s story without their consent, but this account allowed further comments to be posted that shamed the victim herself.

To the individual who sent the original ask, I know who you are. You should be ashamed for sharing someone else's story for the sake of drama. You knew what you were doing by sending it.

I hope one day you learn to grow up and to mind your business. This was not your story to share.

I hope you are embarrassed to have made this a discussion with an account that was sending mass hate to this individual previously along with many others.

If you are going to post about dark content in fictional writing, regardless of opinion, why are you in the same breath also shaming a victim and platforming others to do the same.

"? sure lmao" But no answer?

This ask was sent but @/enhais6 never responded. The reason you didn't respond, is because you're aware of who the older individual is and you're protecting them.

And once again, they do not fit the narrative of the people you're targeting.

More screenshots of them enabling this hate train without solid evidence.

You owe this person more than an apology. For the lies you have spread with no sources to justify your carelessness.

I am aware that they will only deflect upon reading this as their previous interactions have made their future ones predictable.

But I only care for others to recognize how hypocritical they are while hiding behind an anonymous account.

They do not actually care about victims as you are able to see.

[heesroses]

⋆˙⟡ ꜱᴛᴜᴅɪᴏ ꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴꜱ — ʟ.ʜꜱ

─── in which frustrated producer lee heeseung can't quite figure out what his latest song is missing—until he hears your pretty moans as he fucks you in his studio.

producer!heeseung x fem!reader ; wc: 4.3k. MDNI. oneshot. smut. fingering. oral (f receiving). multiple orgasms. riding. sex in heeseung's studio. overstimulation. begging. mostly dom!hee, with a bit of dom!reader. hee being a HUGE tease. tiny bit of fluff. unprotected sex. heeseung doing literally anything to hear you moan.

my masterlist.

⋆˙⟡ a/n :: my most anticipated smau is finally here :) i spent a few days working on this to make sure it was everything i wanted, so i hope you enjoy xx

“I'm sorry, baby. I know I promised I’d be there at 11, but the track just isn’t right.”

Your eyes scanned the text from Heeseung a few times, rereading his words over and over again. He had been increasingly busy over the last few weeks as he worked on finishing his latest album, and it had been hard to find a time to see him. He spent all of his time in the studio, leaving you longing for him more than you knew was possible.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” you texted back.

The response came quickly. “I don't think so, but if you want, you could come to the studio and hang out.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

And you were right. You were standing outside the door of the studio in exactly ten minutes, wrapped in one of Heeseung’s oversized hoodies. It was so long that it covered up the shorts you were wearing on your lower half.

“Hey baby,” Heeseung said as he eased the door open. He held out his arms for you, and you immediately stepped into his warm embrace. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too,” you murmured, tilting your head upwards to place a soft kiss on his lips. “What’s going on with your track?”

Heeseung sighed, slinging his arm around your shoulders as you meandered down the brightly lit corridor. The walls were decorated with various records and pictures of the famous musicians who had walked down the same corridor as you were now. “It’s just… something isn't right.”

“In what way?” you asked. You noticed that the studio was completely empty besides the two of you, but you also knew that few people worked as hard as Heeseung did—even if it meant being in the studio until 2 a.m most nights.

“I mean, I’ll play it for you if you want,” he said, pushing open the door of his studio to allow you inside. The overhead lighting was soft, illuminating the small space with an intimate glow. A large soundboard occupied most of the room, and just behind it was a window that allowed you to see into the recording room.

You made your way over to the soundboard, looking down at the vast expanse of buttons and keys that stretched out before you. A large, padded microphone was poised just above the computer.

“I’d love to hear it,” you told him. Heeseung plopped down in the chair beside the sound board, patting his lap to indicate where you should sit. You took your place with a grin, your legs draped over the edge of the chair, before he pressed play on the screen displaying the track.

It started slowly. You were pulled in by the soft beat and mellow guitar, and when Heeseung’s golden vocals began to serenade you from the speakers, your eyes fluttered closed. You loved when Heeseung played his music for you, and knowing that you were the first person in the world to hear this track made you feel incredibly lucky.

The song increased in depth as it continued, adding more instruments and background vocals. However, you could tell from the way that Heeseung’s fingers tapped your thigh that he was unhappy with it. Once it was finished, you turned and looked up at Heeseung's frowning face.

“I really like it, Hee,” you told him, lifting your hand and running it through his soft blonde hair.

“But you don't love it, y/n,” he said. “I wrote this song for you, and I want it to be perfect.

“Wait... you wrote it for me?” you asked. Nobody had ever done anything like that for you before.

“Of course I did, baby,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Does that surprise you?”

“A little.”

“It shouldn't.” He gave you a small smile before he played the track from the beginning, and you watched as he experimented with adding different beats and chords. He quietly sang different notes under his breath, trying to figure out which notes would complete the song. You loved watching him work, and you were perfectly content just sitting on his lap and listening to the song on repeat as Heeseung tweaked it. After a bit, though, you could tell that he was becoming increasingly frustrated.

“It's still missing something,” he whined, leaning his head back. “I can't figure it out, and it's driving me crazy.”

You pressed your lips to his neck softly, beginning to glide your fingers up and down his chest to try to alleviate some of the stress he was feeling. “I think it sounds great.”

“Thanks y/n,” he sighed, obviously still distracted. Your lips ghosted over his neck until you reached his Adam's apple, and you sucked it slowly as your fingers etched across the carved lines of his abdominal muscles.

Before you knew what was happening, a loud, borderline orgasmic groan filtered into your ears. You clenched your legs together at the sound, and you looked up at Heeseung to find that a look of pleasure had spread across his face.

“What was that?” you mused, your hands still exploring his torso.

Heeseung's lips grazed over your own as he gripped your waist and rotated you so that you were straddling his thigh. “I can't help it when you're doing this to me.”

His mouth crashed against yours, all the restraint of the last few weeks snapping. You hadn't had sex in so long due to his schedule that you were starting to forget how it felt to have Heeseung’s tongue explore your mouth.

“God, I missed this,” he groaned against your mouth, his hands slipping underneath the fabric of your sweatshirt. His hand roved up and down your back, and you couldn't help but slowly grind your hips against his thigh as he did so.

“I missed you,” you moaned, gripping Heeseung’s shoulders to steady yourself as your hips rolled back and forth on him. The air around you felt positively electric with your shared desire, and you were so turned on that you were almost dizzy. Heeseung used his hands to guide your hips as you rubbed your clit against his thigh, the sweetest moans he had ever heard filtering into his ears.

Then, an idea struck.

“Baby, I know what the track is missing.”

“What?” you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut from the waves of pleasure that were pulsing through your body.

Heeseung leaned forward and nipped your ear. “Your pretty moans.”

A sudden, creeping heat made its way up your neck, and your eyes met Heeseung’s. “Only if you're the one making me moan.”

“Deal,” he exhaled, sinking his fingers into your hair as your lips met again. A deep, guttural sound escaped him as you began to lightly trace your fingers over his grey sweatpants in the exact spot where you knew his hardened cock would be. Heeseung’s response to your fingers finally meeting his length was to tug the sweatshirt you were wearing over your head, revealing your tits to him. He hissed as he took you in, your nipples already hardened from your arousal.

“You drive me fucking crazy when you don't wear a bra,” he growled, taking in the sight of you atop him, already so hot and bothered. “Let me get the mic closer to you.”

You nodded, unable to stop yourself from humping his thigh. Heeseung stretched his arm out, grabbing the microphone and tugging on it so that it was just inches from your mouth.

“I need you to moan for me, princess,” Heeseung whispered. He knew exactly which spots would elicit the moans he was seeking, and he wasted no time in finding them. He immediately took one breast in his mouth as his hands found their way down to the heat between your legs. A deep rumble came from his chest as he felt the wetness through your thin shorts, and he began to rub slow circles on your clit through the fabric.

“Oh, fuck,” you whined, your breath catching as Heeseung’s tongue swirled in lazy circles around your nipple. His fingers continued to work against your most sensitive spot, and your back arched instinctively to get him even closer.

“You're so needy,” he noted, his words muffled by your breast as he continued to suck. “I love your tits, fitting in my mouth so perfectly.”

Another string of breathy moans left your lips, and Heeseung used his free hand to add the recording of them to the beginning of the track as he continued to massage your clit. “Fucking perfect. Keep moaning for me, baby.”

After another moment of Heeseung driving you crazy with his fingers, he grasped the waistband of your shorts and maneuvered them off your legs, leaving you fully nude. Heeseung let out a low whistle as he took in the curves of your body, the way his hands fit perfectly on your hips and ass.

“Why are you acting like you’ve never seen me naked before?” you teased, tracing a finger along the bulge in his pants.

“Because every time I see you naked, it feels like the first time all over again,” he breathed, gripping your waist in his large hands and lifting you up. He placed you on the soundboard before positioning the microphone directly in front of your mouth. He then spread your legs hungrily with one hand before kneeling on the ground in front of you. “I need more of your pretty moans, baby.”

You nodded, your body alight with anticipation as Heeseung’s parted lips made contact with your core. He licked up your center a few times, and your thighs began to tremble from how pleasurable the sensation was. As he tasted you, he used his hands to place your thighs atop his shoulders, allowing him to fully dive into you.

The wet sounds of Heeseung fucking you with his tongue filled the studio, but the only audio he cared about was the symphony of notes leaving your mouth as he continued to lose himself in the warmth of you. Every few seconds, his eyes flicked up to the computer monitor, watching the waves on the screen jump with every sound you let out. He seemed to be creating a game of it, seeing which spots made you express the different noises he wanted.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” you groaned, desperately trying to find something to do with your hands. His tongue between your folds felt so good that it was making you restless, as if the immense waves of pleasure had nowhere to go.

“Not my fault your moans are so fucking hot,” he said before quickly jutting his tongue in and out of your entrance, his long nose rubbing against your clit in a way that made you moan even louder than before. Heeseung seemed satisfied with this, so he continued on for a moment before he leaned backwards and inhaled sharply at how wrecked you already looked.

Before you knew what was happening, Heeseung’s lips were on yours again, and you could taste your saltiness on his tongue. One hand pulled your hair lightly as the other took one of your nipples in his hand yet again, rolling the soft bud between his rough fingers.

“Heeseung, fuck,” you let out. He smiled deviously against your lips before lowering his mouth to your neck and chest, marking you as if to ensure that anyone who saw you would know exactly who you belonged to. You were Lee Heeseung’s, now and forever, and he planned on fucking you so well that you would never forget it.

As Heeseung sucked and bit your collarbone, he inserted two of his fingers inside your dripping pussy, and you heard a frayed sound escape his mouth. The combination of his teeth grazing against your skin and his fingers pumping in and out of you was overwhelming, and you felt tears well in your eyes from the intensity of his movements.

“Baby, please,” you whined, not exactly sure what you were begging for. “Oh f-fuck, please, please.”

“Please what, princess?” he asked as his tongue and lips moved against your neck. “Whatever you want is yours as long as you keep making those noises for me.”

“I want to cum,” you told him, rolling your hips into his fingers.

“So greedy, aren’t you?” he murmured, lifting his eyes up to yours as he withdrew his fingers from you and ran them along the velvet-soft skin between your thighs. You let out a frustrated groan at the sudden lack of Heeseung within you, but when he pulled his shirt over his head, you realized that something even better was coming.

You gazed at his perfectly toned chest, the sculpt of each muscle eliciting a heavy swallow from you. “Jesus Christ, Hee.”

“What’s wrong, y/n?” he asked, yet again closing the distance between you, his fingers lazily exploring the skin of your back.

“You’re so fucking hot,” you ground out, doing your best to keep your voice even. “And we haven’t even gotten to the best part.”

“Hmm?” Heeseung followed your gaze to the obvious tent in his sweatpants. “Why don’t you do something about it, then?”

You bit your lip and nodded, tugging on the waistband of Heeseung’s sweatpants and boxers so that they dropped to his ankles as one. You took in the full length of him hungrily, and you felt the muscles deep within you clench to the point where it was almost painful.

“I need you inside me,” you panted, your vision turning hazy from how desperately you wanted Heeseung to fill you with every inch of his veiny cock. “I need it so fucking bad, Hee.”

“So fucking demanding,” he chuckled. He stepped back from you, grabbing the microphone before lowering himself to the chair lazily, his legs spread and length standing fully erect. “You want it that bad, baby? You have to come get it.”

You rolled your eyes, but your body was moving towards him before you had even registered what you were doing. You climbed atop him, straddling his hips, but he moved his dick out of the way before you could line yourself up with it.

“What the fuck?” you snarled, grasping his chin in your hand. “Do you want to fuck me or not?”

“Of course I do, babe,” he whistled, obviously enjoying just how needy you were. “I just want to get the microphone in the perfect spot to capture the sounds you make when you sink down on me.”

You let out a frustrated noise as Heeseung brought the microphone a few inches from your face. He began to fiddle with it, and you realized after a moment that he wasn’t actually doing anything except trying to piss you off.

“Let go of the fucking microphone,” you commanded, grasping his forearm in your fingers and forcing him to lower his hand to your hip. “And fuck me already.”

“So fucking demanding,” he purred, but he finally released his cock from his grip and allowed you to line it up with your entrance. You had never wanted Heeseung so bad in your life, so when you finally sank down onto his cock, an orgasmic moan filled the air.

“Fuck, just like that,” Heeseung growled, staring up at you as you took in every inch of him until your bodies were flush. You stayed still for a moment, staring at him hungrily, before you slowly began to rock your hips back and forth atop him. Heeseung’s eyes fluttered shut, and you could tell that he was trying not to make any noise so that the only sounds captured belonged to you.

As many times as you had fucked Heeseung, it had never felt quite like this before. Maybe it was the forbidden nature of doing it in his studio late at night, knowing that you two were the only ones in the building. Or, maybe it was the fact that Heeseung was going to put your moans into his track, allowing people around the world to hear just how well he fucked you. Either way, you didn’t care, because the sensation of Heeseung filling you up was the only thing that mattered to you.

“I fucking love your pussy, baby,” Heeseung’s low voice came, and he raised a hand to your breasts before squeezing them tightly. Your hips bucked at this, and you quickened your pace as you threw your head back in utter ecstasy. Heeseung’s eyes continued to move between the computer monitor and your perfect body as you used him for your pleasure.

After a bit longer, your movements became sloppy as you lost all control. Heeseung’s right hand grasping the soft flesh of your hip as the left stimulated your nipples made every nerve in your body feel as if it had been lit on fire, and it didn’t take long until you felt a familiar feeling begin to build between your legs.

“Heeseung,” your voice peaked, a ringing cry that filled the studio. “I’m g-gonna cum! Heeseung, please, fuck, please, please!”

A broken note left you as you reached your climax, and you kept fucking Heeseung as you rode out your high with him inside you. As your orgasm began to ebb away, you allowed yourself to collapse onto Heeseung’s chest, your breaths ragged.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he murmured in your ear, cupping the back of your head and kissing you slowly, sensually. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

You trembled as you nodded, and Heeseung lifted you off his lap and stood before flipping you around. He pinned you against the soundboard, his slick cock pressed against your back, and he grabbed your chin and tilted your head up so that he could reconnect your lips.

His kiss was all-consuming, as if he were attempting to devour you then and there. His tongue danced with yours as he moved the microphone again, ensuring that it would capture every sound that left your pretty lips.

After positioning the microphone exactly where he wanted it, Heeseung placed his hand on your upper back and pushed down, forcing you to bend over for him. Your chest hit the cool plastic of the keyboard attached to the soundboard, and you let out a cry as Heeseung smacked your ass. “I’m gonna fuck all the moans I need for my track out of you.”

Your eyes pressed closed at his words, more turned on than you had ever been as his desire for you clashed with his passion for creating music. He had finally found a way to combine the two, and you knew before he even pressed his cock inside your folds that you were in for the best fuck of your life.

Heeseung grasped your ass in his hands, spreading your cheeks as he pushed himself inside you. The feeling of him filling you up forced your breath to jump in your throat, and he took no time at all before he began to thrust rapidly.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” A symphony of your breathy sounds and hitched breaths filled the air, and Heeseung smirked as he imagined how it would sound to loop the raw melody on his track.

As Heeseung continued snapping his hips into you, you felt the thrum of your heartbeat quicken from the intensity of his movements. Every thrust was deeper than you knew possible, his tip roughly rubbing against your walls over and over until you began to see stars. The soundboard in front of you became out of focus, and you desperately grasped the edge of it in an attempt to ground yourself.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Heeseung’s groan filtered into your ears, and you felt yourself clench around him at these words. Even though you were no musician, you knew that his movements were off-beat. The rhythm of his body against yours felt random, and you could tell just how frantic he was for you as your gummy walls tightened around his cock. He continued to drive forward, an unyielding movement that shook the breath from your lungs and made you forget your own name. Your fractured cries slipped from your lips with every pump, and your knuckles turned white as you grasped the soundboard.

After a moment, Heeseung gathered your hair in his hand and pulled, forcing your head back and drawing your mouth even closer to the microphone. You completely unraveled, and the noises that left you had Heeseung desperately trying not to cum inside you. Your bodies collided rapidly, the soundproof panelling of the studio absorbing each slap of skin and squeak of the soundboard as it was forced to bear the ferocity of Heeseung’s movements.

“I d-don’t know–ah–how much longer I-I’m gonna last,” you gasped as Heeseung’s hand roughly connected with your ass yet again. “It feels too good, I–I can’t–”

Heeseung quickened his pace, something you hadn’t even thought was possible, and you immediately felt your orgasm rising again, but this one was different. You felt as if you were going to wet yourself, but you knew from the way Heeseung had been fucking you just right that he was going to make you squirt all over his studio. You wondered if the gush of liquid would ruin his expensive equipment, but it was too late now to stop. Your climax was about to overtake you whether you liked it or not, and there would be no stopping your boyfriend as he pounded into you mercilessly.

“Heeseung, fuck!” your voice rang through the room, the computer displaying a large peak in the soundwaves that it was picking up. Heeseung continued to buck his hips into you wildly as you squirted around his dick, and you could tell from his sudden high-pitched whines that he, too, was close.

“Please cum inside me, baby,” you breathed, looking over your shoulder at Heeseung’s fucked-out face. His eyes were barely open, his hair a mess and mouth wide open as he thrusted into his release. You felt his cock twitch inside you as he painted your insides white with his cum, and he pressed his forehead to your back as he shuddered with each pulse.

“I love you so fucking much, y/n,” he panted, pressing a series of kisses to your back.

“I love you more, Heeseung.”

Neither of you moved for a moment, both attempting to regain a sense of reality after the intensity of your encounter. When Heeseung moved, you noticed that he stumbled slightly before falling into the chair that you had just ridden him on.

“You okay?” you asked, turning around and leaning against the soundboard.

“Yeah, just tired.” He gave you a lazy smile. “And I can’t wait to hear how your moans are going to sound on my track.”

“You should do it now–so I can hear it.”

Heeseung nodded, pulling you into his lap again before rolling his chair toward the soundboard. You rested your head in the crook of his neck, and you watched the screen as Heeseung made quick work of the rest of the project you had just worked on together. It felt slightly embarrassing to hear him play back your moans, but if it made Heeseung happy, you would do it again in a heartbeat.

After roughly twenty minutes of you snuggling up against Heeseung as he placed each sound in the perfect spot, a small smile finally spread across his face. “I think it might be done. Should we listen to it?”

“Of course.”

As the familiar slow guitar and quiet beats of the song began, you immediately noticed that Heeseung had put your softest moans first–from when he had you grinding on his thigh. His voice came in a moment later, and you were amazed by how perfectly you sounded accompanying his smooth, sensual vocals.

As the song increased in intensity, so did your noises. You could tell that the sounds you heard through the chorus were from when he was fucking you. The song continued on, and at the end, his vocals disappeared so that the only thing audible was your sinful notes over the slow, seductive beats.

“What do you think?” Heeseung asked once the track had ended.

“It’s perfect,” you whispered, and you knew that you truly meant it. Heeseung had written the song for you, and the fact that you had the ability to collaborate on it–even if you hadn’t done much–overwhelmed you with emotion. “It’s absolutely perfect.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” his soft voice came. He pressed his lips to your temple, and you lifted your head up so that he could kiss you properly. “We make a pretty good team, don’t you think? We should do this more often.”

“Your fans are going to get tired of hearing me moan,” you giggled.

“I don’t give a shit.” Heeseung smiled at you–his perfect, devastating smile. “I never get tired of hearing you moan, so they can deal with it.”

“Don’t blame me if you lose all your fans,” you murmured against his lips.

“Even if I do, I don’t care. As long as I have you, that’s more than enough for me.” And as Heeseung kissed you deeply, you knew he truly meant it.

⋆˙⟡ taglist: @jakeycakeys @rawwerewolfthunder @moonshinekissesss @ikeufied

[en-ouement-deactivated20260426]

i got you

synopsis: a simple workout with sunghoon turns into something something else when he pushes too far.

pairing: sunghoon x bsf!reader

warnings: crying, pushing too hard at the gym, a little miscommunication

the gym was loud in a way you’d gotten used to; metal clinking, low bass from the speakers, the hum of people focused on themselves. it wasn’t overwhelming. not when you were here with him.

you glanced up from your mat, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face.

sunghoon was across the room, exactly where you expected him to be. focused.

he always looked like that when he worked out brows slightly furrowed, lips pressed together, movements controlled and precise. even something simple looked intentional when he did it. like every rep had a purpose.

you watched him for a second longer than you meant to. and then… a second more.

it wasn’t just watching, not really. it was the way your chest tightened a little when he adjusted his grip, the way his shirt clung slightly when he moved. annoying. stupid, even.

you dragged your gaze away but he caught you anyway. one eyebrow lifted just slightly, and even from a distance, you could tell he was teasing you.

you quickly looked away, pretending to fix your grip on the dumbbell beside you.

“shut up,” you muttered under your breath, even though he couldn’t hear you. but your ears felt warm.

you finished your set, exhaling as you set the weight down, then stretched your arms overhead. your muscles already felt warm, a little shaky but in a good way.

and still, your attention kept drifting. you hated it.

for a while you stayed separate, him at the racks and you moving between machines.

every now and then, you’d pass each other. he’d nudge your shoulder lightly, or you’d tap his arm in passing. no real conversation, just small touches. but they lingered longer than they needed to.

and then you reached the bench press, staring up at the bar like it had personally offended you.

you hesitated… then looked over again. he caught your eye immediately.

you gestured. “spot me?”

he was already walking over before you even finished asking.

“of course,” he said, pulling his headphones down around his neck. his voice was softer up close, but steady. “how many reps?”

“just… what im able to do,” you muttered, lying back. “don’t judge me.”

a small smile tugged at his lips. “i never do.”

that was a lie, he always pushed you.

you gripped the bar, lifting. the first few reps were fine manageable. you exhaled through each one, feeling him hover just close enough to help if needed.

too close.

you could feel him without looking. the heat of him, the way his hands stayed near the bar, ready.

“good,” he murmured. “again.”

you did another.

and another.

then suddenly—the weight felt heavier.

“…sunghoon?” you felt your arms tremble slightly.

“you got it, keep going,” he said calmly.

you racked it, sitting up immediately. “did you add weight?”

he didn’t even look guilty. “a little.”

“sunghoon!”

“what?” he shrugged lightly, though his eyes were watching you carefully. “you can do more than you think.”

you groaned but laid back again anyway. “if i die, it’s your fault.”

“i got you,” he said quietly.

something about the way he said it made your stomach twist.

you tried again and the extra weight hit instantly. your arms strained, breath catching as you pushed through the first rep. then the second. by the third, your muscles were shaking.

“i can’t.”

“you, you can,” he said, voice firmer now. “one more. im right here.”

you pushed but failed halfway. he grabbed the bar quickly, guiding it back into place before it could drop. you sat up again, frustration bubbling up too fast.

“why would you do that?” your voice cracked slightly. “i told you it’s just what i was able to do!”

“i know,” he said, softer now. “but you’re stronger than-”

“i said i couldn’t!”

the words came out sharper than you meant.

the noise of the gym suddenly felt too loud, too close. your chest tightened, and before you could stop it, your eyes burned.

“…hey,” he said, immediately stepping closer.

“i don’t like that,” you added, quieter now, voice shaking. tears slipped down your cheeks, embarrassing and sudden.

“i was trying,” you whispered, looking away. “i was trying.”

something in his expression shifted instantly.

“oh…” he exhaled, stepping in without hesitation. “hey, no. i’m sorry.”

you didn’t resist when he pulled you into him.

his arms wrapped around you securely, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, pressing you gently against his shoulder.

“i’m sorry,” he repeated, softer this time.

your face was buried into his shirt, and you let yourself breathe. but now that you were this close you could feel his heartbeat. the warmth of him sinking into you like it belonged there.

your fingers curled into his shirt without thinking.

“i pushed too hard,” he murmured near your ear. “that’s my fault.”

he tilted his head, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your hair that lingered longer than it should have. your breath caught, just slightly.

“i didn’t mean to upset you.”

your grip tightened.

“i know…” you mumbled, still sniffling. “you just don’t listen sometimes.”

“…yeah,” he admitted quietly.

another kiss. this one slower. like he noticed.

your stomach flipped in a way you refused to acknowledge.

“i’ll listen,” he whispered. “i promise.”

his thumb rubbed slow circles against your arm, grounding, steady. but it wasn’t just that, it made you more aware of everything.

“and for the record,” he added softly, “you were doing really well.”

you huffed weakly against him. “don’t try to fix it with compliments.”

a quiet breath of laughter left him. you felt it against your hair.

“i’m not,” he said. “i mean it.”

he leaned his cheek against your head, holding you just a little closer. “…but we’re taking weight off next time.”

that earned a small, very tired smile from you.

“obviously.”

“and i’ll only push you,” he added gently, “when you tell me i can.”

you nodded against him, “deal.”

silence settled again, softer now but neither of you stepped back. your hands were still in his shirt and his arm still firm around your back.

“you’re lucky i like you,” you muttered.

his hand slid up your back gently, then stilled. “i know,” he said quieter this time.

you pulled back just enough to breathe, but not enough to leave.

his eyes flicked down for half a second. then back up. it was subtle but you saw it, and that made it worse. or better?

you couldn’t tell anymore.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

a/n: hey guys 🫩 i'm so sorry for being extremely inactive, if life wasn't hard enough something always has to happen, but i am back and i do have a lot i plan to put out. so as soon as i figure out my theme + masterlist i will be dropping a teaser of something i've been cooking up so pls look forward to that!! ANYWAYS i didn’t mean to make this so sad idk wtf was wrong w me LMAO

[prettybs]

PUT THIS ON TWT ✧ —NRK

funni tweets you and riki post ab each other ig

🃏pairing: bf!riki x reader — ft. enhypen

contains: crack fluff suggestive hard language evb lowkey bullying riki ⭑

🗯️ vaeh’s note: def gonna make more of these they’re so fun

taglist: @laikaonline @izzikiii @hearteubeateuxz @angelhyuka @berrybonnieee @choeryyxyz @ily4hoonity @embrjdos @astronomicalastro-blog1 @silvhoon @coupsarchive @rikislove @ily4hoonity @kittyvalr @eater4riki @twoloathe @rmmsthings @ilovetylerthecreater @sociallyawkward18 @lovenha7 @enhajungwonheart @krikalovesstay @rikislove @wonsvisuals @nishirikiluvr @illtie @saeivra @emmaitoshi @ardlolic @aamirazx @wonuziex @bemyaehiweloveskz @sa1co @nikisfave @sociallyawkward18 @seerpentsk1rt @lovleycherryy @ivelvette @rikimuraaaa @evanleeisahoe @miffikeuu @luvv1anime @swiftinsightinsight @mininigning @bellachaewon @teddybeartaetae @wonnieswife @xupidraws @chaebbys @ilobhee @sstrawbxrry @jungwonniesdimple

[sunsunliz]

𝖾𐓣ɦ𝗒ρ𝖾𐓣 bf texts 𓂃 ot7 ver

idol!enhypen x fem!reader ੭୧ crack jokes cursing pegging jokes fluff if u squint

all members woowoo

[h5eavenly]

Fallen Star┃Jake Sim.

↳✶ Pairing: Jake Sim x Female Reader

↳✶ Genre: social media au, model!jake x reader, heavy angst(you've been warned), (happy ending tho!) ,lots of misunderstandings, mature themes, slow burn, smut, fluff here and there

↳✶ Synopsis: after being fired and blacklisted from the entertainment industry your life is on the verge of falling apart. An opportunity arises to save you when you get a job offer to work as a personal assistant for ex lead singer of the rock band PARANOIA! and now turned model, nicknamed the nation’s sweetheart- Jake Sim. However his image crumbles quickly when you discover he’s nothing but the devil in disguise.

A story of two hurt souls finding comfort within each other in the most unexpected ways.

↳✶ Warnings +18(minors dni): lots of swearing, inappropriate jokes, mature themes and sexual content, drug use and drinking, addiction, mental illnesses (ocd, anxiety, depression), mentions of deadly diseases. cheating (not jake or reader) , character death (not main)

-Will add more later.

↳✶ Characters: enhypen members , blackpink's jennie , itzy's ryujin , soojin , txt's yeonjun.

↳✶ Taglist : open comment or send an ask to be added! ( 18+ and age in bio!!)

Status : ON GOING

↳✶ Spotify Playlist :

*this entire series came to life with the help of my angel @laceangel333 thank you for everything <3

⛥ PROFILES [YN'S SIDE]

⛥ PROFILES [JAKE'S SIDE]

⛥ MEMECANONS

⛥ one - manifest, manipulate, masturbate.

⛥ two - nishimura's sappy show.

⛥ three - just a tip.

⛥ four - the terrible trio

⛥ five - your boy is a weirdo.

⛥ six - you'll never catch me siding with a man.

⛥ seven - these are your employees?

⛥ eight - curiosity kills the cat.

⛥ nine - the devil and angel are entangled. (6.1k)

⛥ ten - you're doing a good job.

⛥ eleven - everybody wants to be us.

⛥ twelve - were angels meant to look somber? (9.1k)

⛥ thirteen - i wanna pay you back.

⛥ fourteen - why didn't you take me? (5.3k)

⛥ fifteen - losing the idgaf war

⛥ sixteen - same dumb bitch.

⛥ seventeen - can't you see the human in my being? (10k)

⛥ eighteen - been thinking about you.

⛥ nineteen - height is a choice btw.

⛥ twenty - you're pretty when you're mine. (7k)

⛥ twenty-one - lilo and stitch therapy session.

⛥ twenty-two - make it easy. (8.3K)

⛥ twenty-three - life is worth living.

⛥ twenty-four - a little of me, (11k)

[woninlove]

OMG I FOUND IT @jaehoodies IDK IF YOU REMEMBER BUT THIS WAS THE SMAU I WAS LOOKING FOR AND YOU ASKED ME TO TAG YOU IF I EVER FOUND IT SO YEA

[jaehoodies]

GOING TO READ THIS THANK YOU SENDING YOU KISSES

[cherrywonyng-deactivated2026041]

𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗢𝗡: 𝗣𝗨𝗟𝗟 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗔𝗗𝗗𝗜𝗘 ' 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇

❪ 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗜 ❫ 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝗓𝗓 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆

𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗎 𝐎𝟎𝟏 ><ㅤ`ㅤ𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 + 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗄 ⋆ 𝖻𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖾 ! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ◟ 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗎𝖽 𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗉 ! 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇 ㅤ─── 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗈𝗌 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗌 ❛ 𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 ◜ᴗ◝ 𝖿𝗍. 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖤𝖭𝖧𝖠 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋𝗌 ❪ 𝖢𝖫𝗂𝖢𝖪𝖥𝖮𝖱𝖬𝖮𝖱𝖤 ❫

𝗟𝗜𝗟𝗦 𝗗𝗜𝗔𝗥𝗬 ─── 𝗁𝗂 ! 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾. 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗂𝗀𝗇𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗒𝗉𝗈𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗆𝗉𝗌 𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋. 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒!

ⓘ ❥ @stvrlightt-42 @borderdaytwo @biased-and-broke @rikismists @hannieandshuaantics @jk5t4r @ni-k1ttie @changbinsal0n (sign up here to join my permanent taglist)

‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎©cherrywonyng ‎‎‎‎‎ ◜ᯅ◝

[nimurita]

⠀  ⠀ ⠀  ⠀ OUTSIDE⠀  ⠀ ✶ ⠀  ⠀ OLDERBF!RIKI HEADCANONS

⠀  ⠀ ✦ . ’ your older boyfriend is made just for you

⠀•⠀‎‎ ‎‎ 💍 𓈒𓏸 𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑟 . olderbf!riki headcanons ⸝ & ♡ 257◞ 𝗐𝖼. ★ warnings.jpeg 💬 ﹕ kissing fluff ╱ 𝗆𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗓𝒾𝗇𝖾 𓏵 ‘⠀´ ᵕ ` reblog+liking

OLDERBF!RIKI who watches as you slip on his hoodie with a smirk. “it’s too big for you.” when you protest against him, he pulls the strings way too tight around your face. “stop!” you exclaim, giggling. riki laughs at you and mumbles, “you’re cuter like this.”

OLDERBF!RIKI who keeps a hand on your thigh when driving, fingers caressing your skin. partynextdoor plays in the background while you try staying composed as possible. “you’re not used to my touch yet, baby?” he hummed out, glancing at you. “it’s not that, ‘ki.” you lie. riki says nothing, but chuckles lowly under his breath.

OLDERBF!RIKI who buys you gifts and gives them to you out of nowhere. perfumes, hoodies, keychains, rings, anything. he brushes it off whenever you complain about him spoiling you. “you really didn’t have to!” riki shrugs and replies casually, “i saw it and it reminded me of you, okay?”

OLDERBF!RIKI who kisses you in the middle of arguments to make you shut up. “shit, i’m so sorry, y/n..” he mumurs against your lips as he wipes a stray tear away. then, he hugs you as if he wanted to suffocate you whole.

OLDERBF!RIKI who absolutely loses it when you don’t answer his calls or texts, pacing around the room like a madman. when you finally pick up the phone, he sighs. “what took you so long? are you doing okay?”

OLDERBF!RIKI who takes flirting very seriously. he teases you non-stop, but also falls apart when you flirt back. “guess i shouldn’t start something i can’t finish..”

perm taglist 💌 ﹕ @sstrawbxrry @https-astrid2

© nimurita 2026

[jaehyp]

"𝖭𝖮, 𝖲𝖧𝖤𝖲 𝖬𝖨𝖭𝖤". ─ 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗃𝗒. + 𝗅𝗁𝗌.

!! pairing: heeseung and jake x female reader

!! synopsis: it was all fun and games having the two biggest heartthrobs on campus chasing after you. jake the steady one who showed up, who waited, who looked at you like you were the only thing that made sense. and heeseung the wild one who teased, who pushed, who looked at you like he was trying to figure out what was underneath. two boys. four years. and you, stuck in the middle, never choosing, never needing to. until you had to.

!! genre: college au, love triangle, mutual pining, smut + suggestive, crack, fluff

!! warnings: jealousy, possessive behavior, alcohol consumption, smut(mdni), switch reader, soft dom + sub jake, mean dom heeseung (hes so dada), threesome, praise kink, tit play, pet names, dirty talk, oral (female + male) , piv, light spanking + choking, degrading, unprotected sex cs we young ho's (jk wrap it before u tap it pls), cum + spit play, overstimulation, squirting, mxm if u squint (mb was feelin freaky) double penetration, orgasim denial (lots of it sry), lmk if i missed anything

!! wc: 23K

!! a/n: hihihi amazing ppl i hope u enjoy reading dont hate on my queen y/n its heejake we talking abt here. I attempted to proof read while half asleep so if something doesn't make sense js ignore it ok?? ok!! shoutout to my baddie my everything the mother of my kids @arelyvn for being my motivation to try out something new js know u getting it tonight anyways happy reading!!

Students stream past you in waves, you're halfway across the quad, when you feel it. A shift in the air. The way conversations sometimes dip and rise when someone important walks by.

You don't need to look to know who it is. You've been here long enough to recognize the sound of campus adjusting to the presence of certain people. Jake and Heeseung are crossing the quad from the opposite direction, accompanied by the rest of their friends. Jay, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Jungwon and Ni-ki, the names everyone on campus knows, the group that's been at the center of everything since freshman year. They move through the crowd like they own it, and in a way, they do.

You watch them as they pass. Jay is mid-rant about something while Sunghoon is beside him, pretending to listen. Sunoo is laughing at something on his phone, his head thrown back, and Jungwon is trying to grab the phone from him. Ni-ki is walking backward in front of them all, saying something that makes Jay throw his hands up even more, and something that makes Sunghoon look away from the crowd and pay attention.

And then there's Jake and Heeseung. Jake is the one people notice first. Something about him draws the eye without demanding it. He's got his hands in his jacket pockets, his head tilted as he listens to whatever Ni-ki is saying. He's the kind of person who makes you feel seen without trying. People have been talking about Jake since freshman year, about how he helped that transfer student find her way to the dining hall during the first week, about how he stayed up all night helping Sunghoon study for a final, about how he's the reason their group became a group in the first place.

People have been talking about Heeseung for just as long. They talk about the way he plays basketball, the way he's been scouted since his first season. Where Jake makes you feel safe, Heeseung makes you feel like you're standing at the edge of something dangerous. He walks with his eyes scanning the crowd like he's looking for something or someone and when his gaze passes over you, it lingers for just a second longer than it should. He's been doing that for four years.

You've known them both for four years. You've watched them become the people everyone talks about. You've heard the whispers of the girls who want Jake's attention, the ones who want Heeseung's, the ones who want both and the girls who've tried and fail to get there attention. And you've been in the middle of it. Not by choice, maybe, though you've never exactly stepped out of it either. You've let them orbit you, let them watch you, let them want you. You've told yourself it doesn't mean anything, that you're not doing anything wrong by letting them both stay close. And that you're not responsible for what they feel, that you're not leading anyone on, that you're just existing in the space between two people who have been there for four years. The problem is you're not sure you believe yourself anymore.

The library is quiet when you get there, the way you like it. You find your usual table near the window, spread out your books, and try to focus on the reading you've been avoiding for three days. You make it ten minutes before a coffee cup appears in your peripheral vision. You look up. Heeseung slides into the chair across from you. Oat milk vanilla latte. Exactly how you like it.

"I didn't ask for coffee."

"You didn't have to." He leans back, stretching his arms behind his head, and you try not to notice the way his shirt pulls across his chest. "You always come here on Tuesdays. You always get tired around ten. You always need a second cup."

You wrap your hands around the cup, letting the warmth seep into your palms. "That's creepy."

"It's observant. There's a difference."

"There really isn't." He grins. It's the same grin he's been giving you for four years. The one that says he's always a step ahead, that he's been watching you long enough to know exactly how to get under your skin. A puzzle you can't quite solve.

"Are you going tonight?" you ask, already knowing the answer.

"Wouldn't miss it."

"Why? Thought you hate Sunghoon's parties."

"I don't hate them. I tolerate them." He leans forward, elbows on the table, and his voice drops. "I'm going because you'll be there."

You hold his gaze. Four years ago, that kind of line would have made your stomach flip. Now, you've learned to meet him where he is. "You always say that."

"Because it's always true."

You try to hold back a smile. He catches it of course and his grin softens into something that looks almost genuine.

"See you tonight," he says, standing.

He's halfway to the door when you call after him. "Heeseung."

He turns.

"The coffee's cold."

He laughs, a real laugh the kind you don't hear often and pushes through the exit. Leaving you alone with your lukewarm latte and the strange, familiar ache in your chest.

You sit there for another twenty minutes, staring at the same page. When you finally pack up your books and head for the exit, not paying attention. You push through the doors, your eyes on your phone, your mind still tangled up in thoughts you don't want to name, and you walk directly into someone's chest.

"Watch-"

You look up. Jake.

He steadies you with a hand on your arm, his grip gentle, his face shifting from surprise to something warmer when he realizes it's you. "Sorry," he says, his hand still on your arm. "I wasn't looking."

"I wasn't either."

He doesn't let go right away. His thumb brushes your sleeve, a small, absent movement, like he's not even thinking about it. His eyes are warm in the afternoon light, the kind of warm that makes you forget you were in a hurry to leave.

"You okay?" he asks. "You look like you're somewhere else."

You pull back, tuck your hair behind your ear. "Just tired. Long week."

He nods slowly. He doesn't push. That's one of the things you've always loved about Jake.

"Sunghoon's party," he says. "You going?"

You laugh, a little breathless. "You're the third person to ask me that."

"Third?"

"Heeseung asked. Yunjin asked. Now you."

His expression doesn't change at the mention of Heeseung. You're not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. "So what did you tell them?"

"I told them I'd think about it, but I'll most likely be there."

He smiles and steps aside to let you pass, but as you move by him, his hand brushes yours. Barely anything. But you feel it.

"I hope you come," he says, and there's something in his voice that makes you stop.

You turn to look at him. "Why?"

He holds your gaze. "Because I always have a better time when you're there."

You don't know what to say to that or why your body wants to step closer. Instead, you smile. "I'll think about it," you say again, and this time, it sounds like a promise.

He's still watching you when you walk away. You can feel his eyes on your back, warm and steady, and you let yourself wonder, for just a moment, what it would be like to stop pretending.

You're halfway across the quad when your phone buzzes. You pull it out of your pocket, expecting Yunjin or your mom or one of the dozen group chats you've muted and forgotten about. It's Heeseung. Don't think about it too hard. Just show up.

Your thumb hovers over the keyboard. You type out a response, delete it, type another, delete that too. Finally, you settle on: I'll be there.

His response comes almost immediately. Good.

You shove your phone back in your pocket and keep walking, your heart pounding, your mind racing, the weight of the weekend pressing down on you like something you're not ready to carry.

Sunghoon's party is in full swing by the time you arrive. The apartment is packed, bodies pressed together in the kitchen and the living room and the hallway. Fairy lights are strung across the ceiling, casting everything in warm gold, and someone has set up a makeshift dance floor. You walk in like you own the place. Because you do. You've been coming here for four years. You know where Sunghoon keeps the good alcohol, which corner of the couch is most comfortable. You know these people. You know this room. You know exactly what you're doing here.

Yunjin finds you immediately, her hand closing around your wrist, pulling you toward the kitchen. "You're late."

"I'm never late."

"You're always late. Drink this." She shoves a cup into your hand. "Sunoo made his special punch. It's terrible but it's strong."

You take a sip. It is terrible. But it's also strong, and you're here, and the music is loud enough to drown out the voice in your head that's been asking too many questions lately. You let Yunjin pull you through the crowd, introducing you to people you've already met, making you laugh at jokes you've already heard. She's in her element tonight, bright and loud and impossible to ignore, and you're happy to let her take the lead. But your eyes are moving.

Jake is across the room, leaning against the wall, a cup in his hand. He's talking to Niki, but his eyes find you almost immediately, like he knew exactly where you'd be. He smiles, small and easy, and you smile back before looking away. Heeseung is on the other side of the room, near the windows. He's not talking to anyone. He's just watching, the way he always watches, his hands in his jacket pockets, his face unreadable. When your eyes meet, he doesn't smile. He just tilts his head, a small gesture, a question you don't know how to answer. You look away first.

An hour later, you're on the dance floor. The music has shifted to something slower, heavier, the kind of beat that settles into your bones and makes you want to move. You're dancing with Yunjin at first, then with Sakura, then with no one in particular, just letting the music move through you.

You feel someone behind you before you see them. A hand on your waist, light, questioning. You turn. Jake is there, close enough that you can see the slight flush on his cheeks from the heat of the room.

"Dance with me," he says. It's not a question.

You raise an eyebrow. "That sounded like an order."

He grins. "Is it working?"

You let him pull you closer, his hands settling on your waist, yours finding his shoulders. He's warm, steady, the way he's always been. His hands are careful, respectful, the hands of someone who has been waiting for a long time and isn't going to rush now that he's here.

"You're a good dancer," you say.

"I'm a terrible dancer. You're just easy to move with."

You laugh, and his hands tighten on your waist, just enough for you to feel it. Across the room, you see Heeseung watching. His arms are crossed, his face unreadable, but there's something in his posture that tells you he's not as casual as he's pretending to be.

You smile at Jake. You lean in close, your lips brushing his ear. "He's watching."

Jake doesn't turn. He doesn't need to. "I know."

"Does that bother you?"

His hands slide down your waist, just slightly, just enough to pull you closer. "Not tonight."

You dance for another song, maybe two. Jake's hands stay on your waist, his eyes stay on your face, and for a moment, you let yourself exist in this space, in the warmth of him, in the steadiness of his hands. When the song ends, you pull back. He doesn't let go immediately.

"I'm getting a drink," you say.

He releases you slowly, his fingers trailing down your arm, your wrist, your hand. "I'll find you."

You know he will.

You're at the makeshift bar in the kitchen when Heeseung appears beside you. He doesn't say anything at first. He just stands there, close enough that his arm brushes yours, far enough that you could pretend you don't notice.

"Jake looked happy," he says.

"He usually does."

"Not like that." Heeseung turns to look at you. His face is close, closer than you expected, his eyes dark in the low light. "He only looks like that when you're around."

You hold his gaze. "And you?"

He doesn't answer. He reaches past you, his arm brushing your waist, and grabs a bottle from the counter. When he pulls back, he's close enough that you can smell whatever cologne he's wearing.

"What do you want, Heeseung?"

He looks at you for a long moment. Then he smiles, and it's not his usual smirk. It's something else, something that makes your stomach tighten.

"You," he says. "But I'm not the one you're dancing with tonight."

You could let it go. You could walk away, find Yunjin, pretend this conversation didn't happen. But you've been running for four years, and you're tired of running. You step closer. Close enough that your chest almost touches his. Close enough that you have to tilt your head to meet his eyes.

"Then stop watching," you say, "and do something about it."

His breath catches. You see it the moment his control slips. His hand comes up, his fingers brushing your waist, your hip, pulling you toward him.

"You're playing a dangerous game," he says, his voice low.

"Am I winning?"

He laughs, low and rough, and for a moment, you think he's going to kiss you. His face is close, his lips inches from yours, his hand tight on your waist. But he doesn't kiss you. He pulls back, just enough to breathe.

"You're going to be the death of me," he says.

He disappears into the crowd before you can respond.

You later find Yunjin on the couch, her legs draped over Jay's lap, a glass of wine in her hand. She looks at you with the particular expression she gets when she knows something you don't want her to know.

"What?" you say.

"Nothing." She takes a sip of wine. "Just watching you work."

"I'm not working."

"Oh babes you're working alright." She grins. "Jake danced with you for twenty minutes. Heeseung looked like he wanted to eat you alive. And you're standing here like you didn't do anything."

You settle onto the couch beside her. "I didn't do anything."

"That's what you think."

She laughs, and you laugh, and the night moves on.

Later, much later, you find yourself on the back patio. The air is cool, a welcome relief after the heat of the house. The city is quiet, the stars faint overhead, and for a moment, you're alone. But you're not alone for long.

Jake appears beside you, his hands in his pockets, his face half lit by the light from the house. He doesn't say anything at first. He just stands beside you, close enough to touch, far enough to let you breathe.

"You had fun tonight," he says.

"I always have fun."

"You had more fun than usual." He turns to look at you. "Heeseung looked like he wanted to kill me when I was dancing with you."

You laugh. "Heeseung always looks like that."

"Not like that." He steps closer. "Not when it's you."

You look at him. At the person who waited, who showed up, who never asked for anything except the chance to be near you.

"You're staring," you say.

"You're worth staring at."

He leans in. His forehead touches yours. His breath is warm on your lips.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks.

You think about the years of not choosing, of running back and forth, of being too scared to want what you wanted. "Yes," you say.

He kisses you. It's soft, gentle, the way he's always been. His hands cup your face, his thumbs tracing your cheekbones, and he kisses you like you're something precious, something worth waiting for. You kiss him back. Your hands find his chest, his shoulders, his hair. You pull him closer, and the kiss deepens, and for a moment, you forget about everything else.

He pulls back first, his forehead against yours, his breathing uneven.

"That was-" he starts.

"Don't ruin the mood Jake."

He laughs, low and warm. "I was going to say perfect."

You smile. "Yeah? Need you so bad Jake."

Your words seemed to be the final straw for Jake, as he's tugging you from the porch to his car and before you know it in his apartment.

Jake's apartment is quiet. The windows are open, letting in the cool spring air, the sound of the city muffled to a distant hum. His room is clean in a nice comforting way. He's standing in the middle of the room, watching you. His hands are shoved in his pockets, his shoulders slightly hunched, his hair falling across his forehead. He looks nervous. He looks like he's been waiting for this moment for years and now that it's here, he doesn't know what to do with himself.

"You're staring again," you say.

"You're worth staring at yet again."

You move toward him slowly, watching his face, watching the way his eyes track your movements, the way his chest rises and falls a little faster with each step you take. You stop when you're close enough to touch, close enough to feel the heat of him, close enough to see the slight twitch in his hands.

"What do you want tonight?" you ask.

His throat works. His hands come out of his pockets, hovering at his sides like he's not sure where to put them. "I want to try something."

"What kind of something?"

His jaw sets. He straightens his shoulders, lifts his chin. There's something determined in his expression, something that looks like he's been practicing for this. "I want to be in control and have you in ways I've always dreamed," he says.

You raise an eyebrow. "Is that right?"

He steps closer. His hand finds your waist, his fingers pressing into your hip, and he pulls you toward him. His other hand comes up to your face, tilting your chin, making you look at him. "Yeah," he says, and his voice is lower than usual, rougher. "I want to take care of you. I want to make you feel good. I want to be the one who decides how fast this goes."

You let him hold you. You let him tilt your chin, let him press his body against yours, let him try to fill the space the way he thinks he's supposed to. He's trying so hard. You can see it in the set of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders, the way he's holding himself like he's playing a role he doesn't quite know.

He leans in to kiss you. It's harder than usual, more demanding, his tongue sliding against yours, his hand tight on your hip. He's trying to set the pace, trying to be the one who leads, trying to be rough in a way that doesn't come naturally to him. You kiss him back. You let him have this. For now.

He walks you backward toward the bedroom, his mouth never leaving yours, his hands everywhere from your waist, your back, your thighs. He's trying to be commanding, trying to push, trying to be the one who decides. But there's a hesitation in his touch, a carefulness that betrays him. He pulls at your shirt like he's not sure how hard to pull. His fingers tremble against your skin. His breath comes in short, sharp gasps that sound more desperate than dominant.

When your back hits the bedroom door, he presses into you, his body hard against yours, his mouth on your neck. "I've been thinking about this all night," he says against your skin. "About taking my time with you. About making you beg for it."

You bite your lip to keep from smiling. "Is that so?"

He pulls back to look at you. His eyes are dark, lips a plump cherry red his chest heaving, his hands pressed against the door on either side of your head. He's trying so hard to look commanding, trying to look like he knows what he's doing, trying to be someone he's not.

You reach up, your fingers tracing his jaw. He leans into your touch without thinking, his eyes fluttering closed, his whole body softening under your hand. "Jake," you say softly. He opens his eyes. "You're not very good at this."

He blinks. "What?"

You push against his chest. He stumbles back, surprised, and you step forward, reversing your positions. His back hits the door. Your hands press against his chest, holding him there. "You're trying to be someone you're not," you say. "You're trying to be rough. Trying to be in control. Trying to be the one who decides."

His throat works. His hands hang at his sides. "I want to be what you need."

You slide your hands up his chest, his shoulders, his neck. Your fingers thread into his hair, tilting his head back the way he did to you. "What I need," you say, your mouth close to his ear, "is you. Not some version of you that you think I want. Just you."

His breath catches. His hands find your waist, but they're not pushing, not pulling. They're holding on.

"You want to be in control tonight?" you ask. He nods. His eyes are wide, his lips parted. "You're not going to get it."

You kiss him. It's soft at first, teasing, your tongue tracing his lower lip, your fingers tightening in his hair. He makes a sound against your mouth something between a gasp and a whimper and his hands tighten on your waist, but he doesn't push. He doesn't pull. He just holds on.

You pull back. Look at him. "You want to be good for me?"

His eyes are glassy, his chest heaving. "Yes."

"Then do what I say."

He nods. His hands fall to his sides.

You step back. Look at him. His shirt is rumpled, his hair a mess, his lips swollen from kissing. He's standing against the door like he's waiting for something, like he'd do anything you asked.

"Take off your shirt."

He reaches for the hem, pulls it over his head. His skin is warm in the low light, his chest bare, his muscles tensing and relaxing under your gaze. He drops the shirt on the floor, his hands falling back to his sides.

"Good," you say. "Now the pants."

He fumbles with the button, his fingers clumsy, his eyes never leaving your face. The pants fall to the floor. He steps out of them, kicks them aside, stands in front of you in nothing but his boxers. His chest is still heaving, his hands shaking, his whole body strung tight.

You circle him slowly. His shoulders are tense, his breathing shallow, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. You run your fingers down his back, feel the muscles jump beneath your touch, hear the sharp intake of his breath. "You've been waiting for this," you say. "Haven't you?"

His voice is hoarse. "Four years."

You stop behind him, press your chest against his back, your mouth close to his ear. "Then stop trying to be in control. Let me take care of you."

He shudders. His head falls forward, his hands braced against the door.

You reach around, your fingers finding the waistband of his boxers. You pull them down slowly, feeling his breath catch, feeling his body tremble beneath your hands. The boxers fall to the floor. He steps out of them, kicks them aside, and then he's bare, his skin warm, his body hard, his heart pounding so hard you can see it in his neck.

You turn him around. He's fully hard tip already leaking, his eyes dark and wide. He looks at you like you're the only thing in the world.

You push him toward the bed. He goes willingly, his legs unsteady, his eyes never leaving your face. When his knees hit the edge, he falls back onto the mattress, his arms bracing himself.

You climb onto the bed, kneel between his legs. His thighs are warm beneath your hands, his muscles tense, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. You run your fingers up the inside of his thighs, feel him shiver, hear the small sound that escapes his throat.

"Lay back," you say. He lays back. His hands fist in the sheets. His chest rises and falls, his whole body waiting.

You wrap your hand around him. He's hot, heavy, pulsing beneath your fingers. His hips jerk up, a desperate, involuntary movement, and he makes a sound that's a whimper.

You stroke him slowly, watching his face. His eyes are closed, his lips parted, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He's already falling apart, already losing himself, and you've barely touched him.

"Look at me pretty boy," you say. He opens his eyes. They're dark, glazed, barely focused.

You lean down, your tongue tracing the head of him. He gasps, his hands flying to your hair, but he doesn't pull. He doesn't push. He holds on like you're the only thing keeping him grounded.

You take him into your mouth. The sound he makes is desperate, broken, your name caught in his throat. His hips jerk up again, but he stops himself, his hands trembling in your hair, his whole body shaking with the effort of holding still. You move slowly, your tongue circling, your lips tight, your hand working what your mouth can't reach. You feel him pulse on your tongue, hear his breath turn to ragged gasps, feel his thighs trembling beneath your hands.

"I'm not going to-" His voice breaks. "I'm going to-"

You pull back. Just before he falls over the edge.

He whimpers. His hips buck up, searching for your mouth, your hand, anything. "Please-"

You stroke him slowly, watching his face. His head is thrown back, his jaw slack, his hands fisted in the sheets. "Please," he says again. "Please, I need-"

"You need what?"

"I need to cum. Please. I've been waiting-I've been-" His voice cracks. His hips jerk up, desperate, searching.

You lean down, take him in your mouth again. His whole body arches off the bed, a broken sound tearing from his throat. You work him fast now, your hand moving with your mouth, feeling him swell, feeling his thighs shake, feeling his control slip away.

"I'm-" His voice is barely a word. "I'm-"

You pull back again.

He cries out. His hands fly to his face, covering his eyes, his whole body trembling. "Please- I- mmm stop being so mean," he whispers. "Please, I can't-I need-"

You climb up his body, straddle his hips. His hands fall away from his face, his eyes finding yours. They're wet. His cheeks are flushed, his lips parted, his whole body open and waiting.

"You want to cum?" you ask. He nods. "Then beg."

His hands grip your thighs. His voice is hoarse, broken. "Please. Please, I'll do anything. I've been waiting for four years. I've been wanting you for four years. Please let me- please let me feel you-"

You reach between your legs, position him at your entrance. His hips buck up, desperate, but you hold him down. "Say my name."

"Y/N." His voice cracks. "Y/N, please-"

You sink down onto him.

He cries out. His back arches, his hands grip your thighs, his head falls back against the pillows. You move slowly at first, watching his face, watching the way his eyes roll back, his jaw slack, the rise and fall of his chest. "You feel so good," he gasps. "So good-"

You move faster. His hands slide up your thighs, your hips, your waist. He's not trying to control. He's just holding on, his fingers pressing into your skin, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"I'm close," he says. "I'm so close-"

You slow down. He groans, his head thrashing against the pillows. "Not yet," you say. "Please," he begs. You start moving again, fast, hard, watching his face, watching the way his control slips, the way his body strains beneath you.

"I'm going to-" His voice is desperate. "I can't-"

You slow down again.

He sobs. His hands grip your thighs, his nails digging in, his whole body shaking. "Please," he begs. "Please, I need to cum. I need-"

You lean down, your mouth close to his ear. "Flip us over."

He moves before you finish the sentence. His hands find your waist, rolling you onto your back, settling between your legs. His breaths coming out unbalanced, his face flushed, his eyes wild. He looks down at you. His hands are trembling. His whole body is trembling. "Can I?" he asks, his voice rough. "Can I-"

You nod.

He pushes into you fast moving even faster. Deeper than before. His forehead is pressed against yours, his breath hot on your lips, his hands tangled in your hair. Each thrust deliberate, each movement pulling sounds from your throat you didn't know you could make.

"You feel that?" His voice is low, rough. "You feel what you do to me?"

You nod. You can't speak.

He moves even faster. His rhythm is sloppy, uncontrolled, the kind of rhythm that comes from someone who's found his place and found his pace. "I've got you princess," he says. "I've got you."

His hand slides between your bodies, his fingers finding you, working you in time with his thrusts. The pressure builds, spiraling, tightening, until you can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything except feel.

"I want to feel you cum," he says. "I want to feel you fall apart on me."

You shatter. Your body clenches around him, your nails dig into his back, his name tears from your throat. He follows a moment later, his face buried in your neck, his body shuddering against yours, his voice breaking on your name.

He collapses beside you, his arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you against him. His chest is heaving, his skin slick with sweat, his heart pounding so hard you can feel it through his ribs. For a moment, neither of you speaks. The room is quiet, the city distant, the world reduced to the space between you.

He lifts his head, looks at you. His face is soft, open, the way it only is when it's just the two of you. "You did that on purpose," he says.

You smile. "Did what?"

"Edged me. Made me beg." His fingers trace patterns on your skin. "You liked that."

"You liked it too."

He laughs, low and warm. "I loved it." He pulls you closer, his arm tight around your waist, his face buried in your hair. You close your eyes. His heartbeat is steady beneath your ear, his breath warm on your skin, his arms holding you like you're something precious. He presses a kiss to your forehead. "I'm not going anywhere."

You smile against his chest. "Good."

The library is quiet in that particular way it gets on Thursday afternoons. You're at your usual table near the window, your books spread out around you. You've been staring at the same page for thirty minutes, your mind elsewhere, replaying the party. Jake's hands on your waist. Heeseung's voice in your ear.

You're still thinking about it when a coffee cup appears in your peripheral vision. You don't need to look up. You know that cup. You know that hand. You look up. He's sliding into the chair across from you, his jacket unzipped, his hair still damp from a shower. He looks tired, the shadows under his eyes darker than usual, but there's something in his face that makes your chest tighten.

You take a sip of the coffee. It's perfect. It's always perfect.

"Why are you here, Heeseung?" you ask. "It's three o'clock on a Thursday. You don't come to the library. You've never come to the library."

He shrugs, but there's something in his expression that shifts. "Maybe I wanted to see you."

"You see me every day."

"I see you across the quad. I see you in the dining hall. I see you dancing with Jake at parties." You notice the way his jaw tightens, just slightly at the mention of Jake. "That's not the same as seeing you."

You don't know what to say to that. You don't know what to do with the weight of his words, the way he's looking at you.

He leans forward, his elbows on the table, his voice dropping. "There's a game this weekend. Last one of the season. Scouts are coming."

You raise your eyebrows. "Scouts?"

"Professional teams. They've been watching me for a while." He shrugs, like it's not a big deal, like it's not the thing he's been working toward his whole life.

"Heeseung, that's huge."

"It's just a game."

"It's not just a game and you know it."

He's quiet for a moment. His eyes are fixed on something outside the window, something you can't see. When he looks back at you, his face is different. Softer. More open. "I want you there."

You stare at him. "What?"

"The game. I want you to come." He says it like it's simple, like it's the easiest thing in the world. Like he hasn't been watching you for four years, like he hasn't been waiting, like he hasn't been standing on the edge of something he's not sure he's allowed to want.

"You want me to come to your game."

"I want you to be there." He leans back in his chair, his eyes don't leave your face. "I've been playing for four years. Every game, I look for you in the stands. Even when I know you're not there."

Your chest tightens. "Heeseung-"

"You don't have to say anything." His voice is quiet now, almost careful. "I'm not asking you for anything. I'm not asking you to choose. I'm just asking you to be there. For one game."

"I'll think about it," you say.

He nods slowly. "That's not a no."

"That's not a yes either."

He stands up, pushing his chair back, grabbing his coffee. He's halfway to the door when he turns back. "It's Saturday. Six o'clock. The gym." He pauses. "I hope to see you."

He's gone before you can respond. The door swings shut behind him, and you're left alone with a heart that won't stop pounding.

Saturday comes faster than you expect. The gym is packed when you arrive. The stands are overflowing, students crammed into every seat, people standing along the walls, the air thick with anticipation. There are faces you don't recognize in the front row men in suits with clipboards, scouts from teams you've only seen on TV. The energy is different from the other games. Heavier. Like everyone in this room knows they're about to witness something.

You find a seat near the middle this time. Not hiding. Not tucked away. You want him to see you.

Heeseung is on the court, warming up. He's focused in a way you've never seen, his movements sharp, precise, like he's running through every play in his head before the game even starts. He doesn't look at the stands. He doesn't look at the scouts. He just moves.

The game begins. It's brutal from the start. The other team is good, better than anyone expected. They double team Heeseung every time he touches the ball, throw everything they have at him. For the first half, it works. He's frustrated, you can see it in the set of his jaw, the way his hands clench at his sides when he comes off the court.

At halftime, the score is tied. Heeseung sits on the bench, his head in his hands. You watch him. You watch the coach crouch beside him, say something you can't hear. Heeseung nods. He looks up. He looks at you.

For a moment, everything else fades. The noise, the crowd, the pressure. He looks at you like you're the only thing keeping him grounded. You give him a small smile with a little nod. Just once. He nods back.

The second half is different. Heeseung comes out like a different player. His movements are faster, sharper, like something has unlocked inside him. He drives past defenders, sinks shots from impossible angles, directs his teammates with confidence. The crowd feels it too the shift, the electricity.

The score tightens. The clock winds down. Ninety seconds left. Heeseung's team is down by two. He takes the ball. He drives. Defenders close in on all sides, three of them, bodies pressing against him, hands reaching. He should pass. Everyone in the gym knows he should pass. But he doesn't. He jumps.

The ball arcs through the air. Time slows. The crowd holds its breath. The ball hits the backboard, spins on the rim once, twice- Drops through.

The gym explodes. He stands there for a moment, frozen, the noise washing over him. Then he looks up. He finds you. His face breaks into something you've never seen before pure, unguarded joy. He points at you, just a finger raised, a gesture that says I did this for you. His teammates mob him, lift him onto their shoulders. You stay in your seat, your heart pounding, they won. He won.

After the game, you wait for him outside the locker room. The hallway is empty, the crowd long gone, the noise of the celebration faded to a distant echo. You lean against the wall, your hands in your pockets, trying to calm your heart.

A player you recognize from the team walks out, his bag over his shoulder. He sees you, stops. "You looking for Heeseung?" You nod. He grins. "He's in there. Took the longest shower of his life. Said he needed to cool down." He nods toward the door. "Go ahead. He won't mind." He disappears down the hallway before you can respond.

The locker room door is heavy. You push it open slowly, the sound echoing off the walls. It's empty. The benches are covered with towels, the air thick with the smell of soap and sweat. You hear water running from somewhere in the back, the hiss of a shower, the low hum of someone humming under their breath. You follow the sound.

Heeseung is standing at the sinks, his back to you, a towel slung low on his hips. His hair is wet, dripping onto his shoulders, onto his back, onto the floor. His skin is still flushed from the shower, still warm, still damp. The muscles in his shoulders move as he reaches for something on the counter, a roll of tape, a bottle of something you don't recognize. Water drips down his spine, following the line of his back, disappearing into the towel at his waist.

You can't breathe. You can't move. You can't stop watching.

He turns. He sees you.

For a moment, neither of you moves. The water drips from his hair onto his chest, trails down his stomach, disappears. His chest is still heaving from the game, from the shower, from whatever he was thinking about before you walked in. His arms are bare, the muscles defined in a way you've only imagined, his skin warm and damp and close enough to touch.

"You came," he says. His voice is rough, lower than usual.

"I said I would."

He takes a step toward you. Water drips from his hair onto his shoulders. "You watched?"

"Every second."

"You saw the shot?"

You nod. "I saw it."

He takes another step. He's close enough now that you can smell the soap on his skin, something clean and sharp. Close enough that you can see the water still clinging to his collarbone, his chest, the hollow of his throat.

"I made that shot for you," he says. "Every point. Every play. I did it for you."

Your heart stops. "Heeseung-"

"You want to know why I asked you to come? Why I needed you here?" His hand comes up, his fingers brushing your cheek, leaving a trail of water on your skin. "Because I can't do anything without thinking about you. I can't play without looking for you in the stands. I can't breathe without wondering if you're thinking about me too."

His hand slides into your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands. His face is close, so close you can feel his breath on your lips, warm and uneven. "I've been waiting for four years," he says. "I've been watching you with him. Watching you not choose. Watching you pretend you don't feel this. And I can't do it anymore."

"Feel what?" Your voice is barely a whisper.

He responds by kissing you. It's not soft, not careful, not gentle. It's the kind of kiss that's been building for four years, the kind of kiss that doesn't have room for hesitation. His hands are in your hair, your waist, pulling you against him, and his skin is warm and wet and you can feel every inch of him pressed against you. You kiss him back. Your hands find his chest, his shoulders, his neck, pulling him closer, and he makes a sound against your mouth that sends heat flooding through your body.

He pulls back just enough to breathe, his forehead against yours, his chest heaving. His skin is hot beneath your hands, his heart pounding so hard you can feel it.

"You're still wet," you say.

He laughs, low and rough. "You're not complaining."

Your hands slide down his chest, following the trail of water, feeling the muscles tense beneath your fingers. His breath catches. His hands tighten on your waist. "If you keep doing that," he says, "I'm not going to be able to stop."

You look at him. His hair is dripping onto your face, his skin flushed, his eyes dark. He's shirtless, wet, close enough to touch, and you've never wanted anything more. "Then don't stop."

His hands slide down your body, finding the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. His mouth follows, hot against your collarbone, your shoulder, the space between your breasts. He kisses like he's been waiting his whole life for this, like he's memorizing every inch of you. Your back hits the lockers behind you, metal cold against your skin, and he presses into you, his body warm and solid and everywhere.

"Four years," he breathes against your neck. "Four fucking years I've wanted this. Wanted you."

You pull his face up, kiss him again, and he groans into your mouth, his hands sliding down your back, your hips, your thighs. He lifts you without effort, your legs wrapping around his waist, your back against the lockers, his body pressed against yours. "You have no idea," he says, "what you do to me."

"Then show me Hee."

He kisses you again, and you let yourself fall.

You look at him. His hair is drying, curling at the ends. His face is open, vulnerable. His lips linger on yours for a moment longer, like he's not ready to let go. When he pulls back, his eyes are dark, his breathing uneven. The locker room is quiet around you, the celebration moved somewhere else. It's just the two of you, the lights humming overhead, the smell of soap and sweat still clinging to his skin.

"We should probably get out of here," he says, but he doesn't move. His arm is still around your waist, his fingers still tracing circles on your hip.

"Probably," you agree. You don't move either.

He looks at you for a long moment. Something shifts in his expression something that looks like decision. "Come with me," he says.

You raise an eyebrow. "Where?"

"My dorm. It's closer." He pauses, his thumb stilling on your hip. "Unless you want to go back to your place."

"Your dorm," you say.

He smiles. It's small, real, the smile he only lets you see. He stands up, pulls you with him, his hands finding yours. His palms are warm, his fingers interlacing with yours like it's the most natural thing in the world. "Let's go," he says.

The walk to his dorm is quiet. Heeseung's hand is in yours. His thumb traces patterns on your skin, absent, unconscious, like he's not even thinking about it. His jacket is draped over your shoulders, he put it there before you left the locker room, his hands lingering on your arms, his breath warm on your neck. "You're cold," he had said. "I'm fine." "You're shivering." He had wrapped the jacket around you, pulled it tight, his hands resting on your shoulders for a moment longer than necessary. The jacket smells like him. You've been breathing it in ever since.

Now you walk side by side, not talking, not needing to. The silence between you is comfortable, the kind of silence that comes before something you've been waiting for. You look at him. His face is half-lit, half-shadowed, the streetlight catching the angles of his jaw, the curve of his lips. His hair is almost dry now, falling across his forehead. He's looking at you like you're the only thing in the world that matters. Then he leads you inside.

His dorm is small. The room is cluttered in that particular way boys' rooms are clothes draped over a chair, textbooks stacked on the desk, a basketball in the corner that you know he's had since freshman year. He closes the door behind you. The lock clicks. The sound echoes in the quiet room.

He moves toward you slowly, like he's giving you time to change your mind. His hands find your waist, his fingers settling on the fabric of his jacket, still wrapped around you. His face is close, close enough that you can see the sparkle in his eyes, the slight tremor in his hands. "You have no idea," he says, "how long I've wanted this."

You reach up, your fingers brushing his jaw. His skin is warm, slightly rough, and he leans into your touch like he's been waiting for it. "Then stop talking about it," you say.

He kisses you. It's different from the locker room. Slower. Deeper. His hands slide under his jacket, finding your waist, your hips, pulling you against him. Your back hits the door, and he presses into you, his body warm and solid, his mouth moving against yours like he's learning you, memorizing you. His hands push the jacket off your shoulders. It falls to the floor, pooling at your feet. His mouth is on your neck, your collarbone, your throat, and every kiss sends heat flooding through your body.

"We should move to the bed," he murmurs against your skin.

"Then move."

He laughs, picks you up, carries you across the room. You wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck, and he lays you down on his bed, the sheets cool against your back, his body warm above you. He pulls back just enough to look at you. His hair is falling across his forehead, his eyes dark. "You're so fucking beautiful," he says. "You have no idea."

You pull him down, kiss him, and let yourself fall.

"You think about me when you're with him?" His thumb traces your jaw, tilting your face up. "When he's inside you, are you thinking about me?" You shake your head. "I don't-" "Don't lie to me, thought I wasn't going to find out that a pretty girl like you is out messing with a boy who cant handle all this?"His voice is soft, almost gentle, but his hand tightens on your throat. Just enough. Just enough to make your head spin. "I can smell him on you. I can see it in your eyes. You've been thinking about me this whole time. Wondering what it would be like if I was the one making you fall apart."

Your knees go weak. He feels it, pulls you closer, his thigh pressing between your legs. "That's what you want, isn't it?" His mouth is at your ear, his breath hot on your skin. "You want me to take over. You want me to make you forget his name."

"He was just-"

He cuts you off with a kiss. Hard. Deep. His tongue slides against yours, and his hands are everywhere your hair, your waist, your thighs. He kisses like he's claiming you, like he's erasing every other touch you've ever felt. His teeth catch your lower lip, pulling, biting down just enough to make you moan into his mouth. When he pulls back, you're breathless. Your head spins. Your hands find his shoulders just to steady yourself, but he grabs your wrists, pins them above your head.

"You want to know what I thought about all night?" His thumb traces your lower lip, pulling it down, watching the way your breath hitches. "I thought about getting you alone. Thought about taking you apart. Thought about making you forget your own name. Thought about the sounds you'd make when I finally got my hands on you."

Your knees go weak. He notices. His mouth curves into something that's not quite a smile but something darker, hungrier. "That's what you want, isn't it? You want someone to take control. Someone to tell you what to do. Someone to make you stop thinking for once. Someone who knows exactly how to take you apart."

You swallow. Your throat is dry. Your wrists are still pinned above your head, his grip firm enough that you couldn't move even if you wanted to. "Yes Hee."

His hands drop to the hem of your shirt. He pulls it over your head in one motion, and the cool air hits your skin. His eyes move down your body, slow, deliberate, like he's cataloging every inch of you. His gaze lingers on your breasts, on the way your chest rises and falls with each ragged breath. "Good," he says. "Because tonight, you don't get to think. You don't get to decide. You don't get to do anything unless I tell you to. Understand?"

You nod.

His hands move down your body, finding the waistband of your pants. He pulls them off slow, his eyes never leaving your face. Your underwear follows, and then you're bare beneath him, your chest heaving, your thighs pressed together, your body aching for his touch. He spreads your legs. His hand slides between them, his fingers finding you wet and ready.

"So wet for me," he says. "You've been thinking about this all night, haven't you?"

"Fuck yes I have."

"What were you thinking about? Tell me."

His finger slides inside you, slow, and you gasp. "Thinking about-about your hands. Your mouth. The way you-"

His finger curls, finds the spot that makes your hips buck. "The way I what?"

"The way you take control." Your voice is barely a whisper. "Mmmm the way you make me feel like nothing else matters."

He adds a second finger. His thumb finds your clit, circles it slow, and the sounds coming out of your mouth are desperate, broken, nothing you've ever heard yourself make before. "You take it so well," he says. "You're so good for me. So fucking perfect."

His fingers move faster, his thumb pressing harder, and the pressure building in your belly is too much, not enough, everything you've been waiting for. "Look at me," he says. "I want to see your face when you cum."

You open your eyes. He's watching you, his eyes dark, his mouth parted, his hand working between your legs. "That's it," he says. "Let go. Cum for me."

You shatter. Your body clenches around his fingers, your back arches off the bed, his name rips from your throat. He doesn't stop. He keeps moving, keeps pressing, keeps pushing you higher, until the waves of your orgasm are still rolling through you and he's still not done. "You can give me more," he says. "I know you can." You shake your head. "I can't-" "You can." His fingers curl inside you, his thumb presses harder. "You're going to cum for me again."

The pressure builds again, faster this time, the sensitivity making your whole body tremble. He doesn't let up. He pushes and pushes and pushes, and when you come again, it's with a scream, your body convulsing, liquid flooding his hand, soaking the sheets beneath you. "Good girl," he says.

He pulls his shirt over his head. His chest is bare, his skin flushed, his muscles tensing as he unbuckles his belt. His pants fall to the floor, and then he's above you, his body covering yours, his weight pressing you into the mattress. He kisses you again, slower this time, like he has all the time in the world. His hands find the clasp of your bra, undo it, let it fall. His mouth follows, down your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your breasts. He takes his time. He doesn't rush. He wants you to feel every second of this.

His tongue circles your nipple, and your back arches. Your hands find his hair, fingers tangling in the strands, pulling. He bites down just enough to make you gasp and then his mouth is on the other breast, his hand replacing his mouth on the first, his thumb and finger rolling your nipple until you're squirming against him. He pulls back. "I didn't say you could touch." Your hands drop. Your chest heaves. He watches you for a moment, his eyes dark, his lips parted, a thin line of saliva still connecting his mouth to your skin. He kisses down your body connecting his lips to your wet pussy.

The first touch of his tongue makes your hips jerk. His hands grip your thighs, holding you in place, his fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave marks. He works you slow, deliberate, his tongue moving in circles that make your vision blur. He knows exactly what he's doing. Your hands find his hair again. This time he doesn't pull away. He lets you hold on, lets you grip the strands, lets you use him to ground yourself as the pressure builds in your belly.

He adds a finger. Then two. Curling them inside you, finding the spot that makes you see stars, and his mouth never stops. His tongue is relentless, circling, pressing, sucking, driving you higher and higher until you're trembling, until you're gasping, until you're right on the edge. The sounds coming out of your mouth are desperate, broken, nothing like the composed person you are in the rest of your life.

"I'm close," you breathe. "I'm-"

He pulls back.

You cry out. The sound echoes off the walls, raw and needy. Your legs are shaking. Your whole body is shaking. Your hands pull at his hair, trying to drag his mouth back to where you need him, but he doesn't move. "Did I say you could come?" You shake your head. Your voice is gone.

He lowers his mouth again. Slower this time. Teasing. His tongue traces patterns on you, learning you again, taking you apart piece by piece. He spells out letters- your initials, his, words you can't quite make out and each stroke of his tongue sends electricity through your body. His fingers move inside you, slow and deep, and he builds you up again, higher this time, pushing you toward something you can't name.

Your hips move against his mouth. Your hands pull his hair. You're beyond thinking, beyond words, beyond anything except the feeling of him, the pressure building, the need coiling tight in your belly. "Please," you gasp. "Please, I need-"

He pulls back again.

You sob. The sound tears out of you, raw and desperate, and he stands up, his mouth slick, his chin wet, his eyes dark, his chest heaving. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, watching you fall apart against the door. "You want to cum?" he asks. "Mhhmm Yes." "Beg like the good fucking whore you are."

You look at him. His face is hard, his jaw tight, his hands on your hips. His thumbs press into the hollow of your hip bones, holding you in place. He's not going to give you what you want. He's going to make you ask for it. He's going to make you earn it.

"Please," you say. Your voice cracks. "Please, Heeseung. I need to cum. I need you to let me cum. I'll be good. I'll be so good. Just please-"

He kisses you. You can taste yourself on his lips, slick and sweet, and he swallows your sounds as his hands move to his belt, slow, deliberate, and the sound of leather sliding through metal makes your thighs press together. He sees it. His mouth curves. He pulls his jeans down, kicks them aside. His boxers follow. He's hard, thick, his cock curving up toward his stomach, and your mouth waters at the sight of him. He wraps his hand around himself, strokes once, twice, watching your face.

"You want this?" he asks. "Yes." "How bad?" "So bad. I need it. I need you."

He climbs onto the bed. His body covers yours, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his hips settling between your legs. The heat of him radiates through your skin. "You want to cum for me?" he says against your mouth. "Then cum for me."

He pushes inside you in one motion.

Your body arches. Your hands claw at his back. He's thick, stretching you, filling you, and the pressure of him inside you after being denied for so long makes your eyes roll back. He doesn't wait. He doesn't give you time to adjust. He moves hard, fast, his hips driving into you, his mouth on your neck, his hands gripping your thighs.

The sound of it fills the room. Skin slapping against skin. The bed frame hitting the wall. Your moans, his grunts, the wet sounds of him moving inside you. He fucks you like he's been waiting for this, like he's been holding back for years, like every night he spent watching you with Jake is being driven out of him with every thrust.

"You feel that?" he asks, his voice rough in your ear. "You feel how good you are for me? How perfect you are when you're not thinking, not fighting, just taking what I give you?"

You can't answer. You can't speak. Your nails dig into his back, leaving red trails down his shoulder. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he groans, his rhythm faltering for just a moment before he drives into you harder.

"Look at you," he says. He pulls back just enough to watch his cock disappear inside you, to watch the way your body takes him. "Look how wet you are. How hungry you are. You've been waiting for this. Waiting for someone to fuck you like this."

He reaches between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit, pressing in time with his thrusts. The pressure builds faster this time, coiling tighter, pushing you toward the edge you've been denied twice now. Your vision blurs. Your hands grip his arms, his shoulders, anything you can hold onto.

"You're going to cum for me," he says. "You're going to cum so hard you forget your own name. And when you do, I want you to say my name. I want everyone to hear who you belong to."

His thumb presses harder. His hips drive deeper. His body is slick with sweat, his hair falling across his forehead, his jaw tight with concentration. He's watching you fall apart, watching the moment your control breaks, watching you shatter underneath him.

"Now," he says. "Cum for me. Now."

The pressure inside you breaks.

You scream. His name tears from your throat, loud in the quiet room, and your body clenches around him, pulling him deeper, holding him there. Your back arches off the bed, your hands grip his arms hard enough to bruise, and you feel everything every nerve, every muscle, every cell of your body release at once.

He groans, his face buried in your neck, his hips stuttering against yours. His body tenses, his grip on your thighs tightens, and he follows you over the edge, his voice breaking on your name, his body shuddering against yours, his cock pulsing inside you.

He collapses beside you. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you against him, his face buried in your hair. You're both breathing hard, your skin slick with sweat, your bodies tangled together in the sheets. His chest is heaving against your back. His heart is pounding so hard you can feel it through his ribs.

He presses a kiss to your shoulder. "You okay?"

You nod. Your voice is gone.

He pulls you closer. His hand finds yours, his fingers interlacing with yours, and he holds you in the quiet. He laughs low and warm, the sound vibrating through his chest into your back. "Amazing. You were amazing."

You turn in his arms, face him. His face is soft now, the hard lines gone, the control slipped away. He looks like the boy who brought you coffee on Tuesdays. His hair is damp, his lips swollen, his eyes heavy-lidded and warm. "I need water," you say.

He kisses your forehead. "I'll get it."

He disappears into the kitchen. You lie in his bed, the sheets tangled around you, your body still humming, your mind quiet for the first time in weeks. Your thighs are sticky, your back is marked with scratches, your lips are swollen. You can still feel him inside you, the ghost of him, the memory of how he filled you.

He comes back with a glass of water, helps you sit up, watches you drink. His eyes move over your body, the marks he left, the way your hair is tangled, the flush still on your skin. When you're done, he takes the glass, sets it on the nightstand, and pulls you back down beside him. His arm wraps around your waist. His leg hooks over yours. He holds you like he's afraid you'll disappear.

"Stay," he says.

You look at him. "Okay."

His arm tightens around you. His breath evens out. His heart slows beneath your ear. And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself be held.

The days after the game feel different.

You tell yourself nothing has changed. You still go to class. You still study. You still let Yunjin drag you to the dining hall. But something has shifted. You feel it in the way your body remembers Heeseung's hands, his mouth, the way he said your name. You feel it in the silence that stretches between you and Jake now, the things you're not saying, the secret you're carrying. You're going to tell him. You know you have to. You just need to find the right moment.

The right moment finds you first. It's Thursday. You're sitting on the steps outside the library, trying to focus on a reading you've read three times without absorbing a word. The afternoon sun is warm, the campus quiet, and you've been here for an hour while your mind drifts. You hear footsteps. You don't need to look up to know who it is. You know the rhythm of his walk, the weight of his presence. Jake sits down beside you. He doesn't say anything at first. That's not unusual. Jake is comfortable with silence. But this silence is different. Heavier. Charged.

You look at him. His face is tight. His jaw is set. He's looking at the quad, not at you, and there's something in his posture that makes your stomach tighten. "I heard about the game," he says. You knew this was coming. You've been preparing for it. "Jake-" "I heard you were in the locker room with him. After." His voice is clipped, controlled. "I heard you left together." You take a breath. "Yeah." He turns to look at you. His eyes are cold. You've never seen Jake look at you like this. "So it's true," he says. "You fucked him."

The word lands like a slap. You stare at him. "Excuse me?" "You heard me." He doesn't look away. His voice is flat, emotionless. "You've been stringing me along for four years, making me wait, making me think I had a chance. And the whole time, you were just waiting for him to finally make a move." Your hands curl into fists. "That's not what happened." "No?" He laughs, but there's nothing funny in it. "Then what happened? You just happened to end up in the locker room with him? You just happened to leave together? You just happened to-" "Stop." Your voice is sharp. "You don't get to talk to me like that." "I don't get to?" He stands up. You stand with him. "I've been here for four years. Four years of waiting. Four years of watching you run back and forth between us. And you couldn't even tell me? You let me find out from other people?" "I was going to tell you." "When? After you fucked him again?" His voice rises. "After you decided which one of us was worth your time? After you got tired of playing games?"

Your blood runs hot. "Playing games? You guys are the ones who are acting like I'm some kind of prize." He flinches. Just slightly. But he doesn't back down. "That was back then," he says. "I was stupid. I'm not treating you like a prize anymore. I know what I want. But you've been playing games this whole time. You liked it. You liked having both of us chasing you. You liked the attention. You liked being wanted." The words hit you like a blade. "You don't mean that." "I mean it." His voice is cold, steady. "You've had four years to choose. Four years to figure out what you want. And you didn't. Because you didn't want to choose. You wanted to keep us both on the hook. You wanted to know you could have us whenever you wanted."

Your chest is heaving. Your hands are shaking. "You're just saying this because you're hurt." "I'm saying it because it's true." He steps closer. "You slept with him, and you didn't tell me. You let me sit next to you in class. You let me hold your hand. You let me think-" His voice cracks, but he steadies it. "You let me think I meant something to you. And all that time, you were just waiting for him." Your voice is shaking. "You're standing here, acting like I'm the one who did something wrong, because I slept with someone I've known for four years? Because I didn't tell you fast enough?" "Jake you're not even my boyfriend." He opens his mouth. Closes it. For the first time, he doesn't have a response. Your voice is steady now. "You don't get to be angry because I made a choice you didn't like. You don't get to call me names because I didn't choose you."

He stares at you. His face is pale, his hands shaking, his eyes wet. But he doesn't apologize. He doesn't take it back. "You know what?" he says. "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you're not worth waiting for." The words hang in the air between you. You feel them like a wound, sharp and deep. "Get away from me," you say. He doesn't move. "I said get the fuck away from me." He turns. He walks away. His shoulders are stiff, his head down. You watch him disappear across the quad, and you don't call after him. You don't run after him. You stand there, your hands shaking, your eyes burning.

You sit back down on the steps. Your books are still spread out around you, your coffee long cold, your phone buzzing in your pocket. You don't look at it. You don't move. You think about what he said. You liked the attention. You liked being wanted. The words echo in your head, looping and repeating. You think about the years of watching them orbit you, never choosing, never having to. About the way you let them both stay close, let them both hope, let them both wait. Your phone buzzes again. You look at it. Yunjin: Jake just showed up at Jay's. He looks like shit. What happened? You stare at the message. Your fingers hover over the keyboard. You type: He found out about Heeseung. He called me a game player. Said I like the attention. Said I wasn't worth waiting for. Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again. Do you want me to come over? You think about it. No, I need to be alone. You type. Okay. I'm here if you need me. You put the phone down. You sit on the steps as the sun sets, as the campus empties, as the light fades to gray. You let the anger settle in your chest. You let the hurt settle underneath it. He was wrong. You know he was wrong. But some part of you wonders if he was right.

Three days pass. You don't talk to Jake. You don't talk to Heeseung. You go to class, you sit in the back, you leave before anyone can catch your eye. Yunjin brings you food you barely eat. Sakura leaves notes on your door. Chae sends you memes that you look at without seeing. You're not sad. You're not angry. You're just empty. On Friday, Yunjin shows up at your apartment. She doesn't knock. She uses the key you gave her freshman year and walks straight into your bedroom, where you've been lying on your bed for the past two hours, staring at the ceiling. "You're coming tonight," she says. You don't look at her. "I'm not going anywhere." "Sunghoon's having a party. Everyone's going to be there." She sits on the edge of your bed, her hand finding your arm. "You need to get out of this apartment. You need to see people. You need to-" "I need to not see them." "Then don't see them. But you can't hide forever." She's right. You hate that she's right.

She pulls out her phone, scrolls for a moment, shows you the screen. A message from Sunghoon in the group chat. Party tonight. Everyone come. No excuses. And then another message, sent a few minutes later. Heeseung said he's coming. He asked if you'll be there. Your heart stutters. You stare at the screen. Three days of silence, and he's asking about you through Sunghoon. Yunjin watches your face. "You don't have to talk to him. But you should go. Get dressed. Dance. Forget about everything for one night." You think about it. About the silence that's been pressing on your chest for three days. About Heeseung's hands, his mouth, the way he said your name. About Jake's voice, cold and sharp, saying maybe you're not worth waiting for. "Fine," you say. "One hour." Yunjin grins. "That's what you always say."

As always the party is already in full swing when you arrive. The music loud enough to feel in your chest, the lights low and golden. You let Yunjin pull you through the crowd, let her put a drink in your hand, let the noise wash over you. For the first time in three days, you feel something other than the weight of everything you've been carrying. You see Heeseung across the room. He's leaning against the wall, a cup in his hand, his jacket unzipped, his hair falling across his forehead. He's talking to Sunoo, but his eyes are scanning the room, looking for something. Looking for you. When he sees you, his face changes. Softens. He excuses himself from Sunoo and starts walking toward you. You could walk away. You could find Yunjin, find Sakura, find anyone who isn't him. You don't. You stand there, your drink in your hand, your heart pounding, and wait.

He stops in front of you. Close enough to touch. His eyes move over your face, your dress, your hands, like he's checking that you're real. "You came," he says. "You asked." He smiles. It's small, real, the smile he only lets you see. "I didn't think you would. After-" You shake your head. "I needed to get out." He nods. He doesn't bring up the locker room, the dorm, the night that's been sitting between you for three days. He just stands there, close enough to touch, and lets the silence be whatever it needs to be. "Drink?" he asks. You hold up your cup. "Already have one." He looks at it, raises an eyebrow. "That's Sunoo's punch. You're braver than I thought." You laugh, and it's the first time you've laughed in days. "It's terrible." "It's always terrible." He takes the cup from your hand, sets it on a nearby table, and offers you his hand. "Dance with me." You look at his hand. At his face. At the boy who's been watching you for four years. "Dance with me," he says again. "Forget about everything. Just for tonight." You take his hand.

He pulls you onto the dance floor. The music is loud, the beat heavy, and he moves with you like he's been waiting for this. His hands find your waist, yours find his shoulders, and for a while, you don't think about anything else. You don't think about Jake. You don't think about the argument. You don't think about the four years of not choosing. He's a good dancer. Not in the careful way Jake is, but in the way that comes from confidence, from knowing exactly what his body can do. His hands move down your back, your hips, pulling you closer, and you let him. "You're staring," he says. "You're worth staring at." He grins. "That's my line." "You've used it enough. I figured I'd borrow it." He pulls you closer, his mouth near your ear. "You look beautiful tonight." Your chest tightens. "Heeseung-" "I just wanted you to know."

The song changes, something slower, and he pulls you against him, your cheek against his chest, his arms around your waist. You can feel his heartbeat, steady and real. "I've missed you," he says quietly. You close your eyes. "I've missed you too." He pulls back after a while. His face is flushed, his hair damp at the temples, his eyes bright. "I need to use the bathroom," he says. "I'll be right back." You nod. He squeezes your hand once, then disappears into the crowd.

You wait. Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen. The music plays on, the crowd moves around you, and you stand there, waiting for him to come back. Something doesn't feel right. You push through the crowd toward the hallway where the bathrooms are. The hallway is quieter, the music muffled, the lights dim. You pass the bathroom door empty, the light off. He's not there. You keep walking. Toward the back of the house, toward the rooms you've never been in. You find him at the end of the hallway. He's pressed against the wall, a girl in front of him. Her hands are on his chest. Her mouth is on his. And he's kissing her back. You stop. Your hands go cold. Your chest caves in. You watch his hands slide down her sides. You watch her press closer. You watch him kiss her the way he kissed you, and something inside you breaks.

He pulls back first. He says something to her, something you can't hear. She laughs, runs a hand through his hair, and disappears into one of the rooms. He turns. He sees you. His face goes white. "Y/N-" You don't run. You don't cry. You walk toward him, slow and steady, and stop when you're close enough to see the panic in his eyes. "You said you were going to the bathroom," you say. Your voice is calm. You don't know how. "Y/N, it's not what you think." You laugh. It's hollow, empty. "You were kissing her. I saw you." "She came onto me. I wasn't-" "You were kissing her back." Your voice is rising now. "You were kissing her like you kissed me. Like I meant nothing." "That's not true." He reaches for you. You step back. "Don't touch me." He drops his hand. His face is pale, his eyes wide. "Y/N, please. It didn't mean anything. I was drunk. I wasn't thinking. I-" "Really this is the best excuse you got."

His jaw tightens. "That's not fair." "Not fair?" Your voice cracks. "You asked me to come tonight. You danced with me. You told me you missed me. And then you disappeared to kiss someone else while I was waiting for you." "I told you, it didn't mean anything." "Then what did I mean?" You're shaking now. "Was I just something to pass the time until something better came along?" His face hardens. "You're the one who ran back to Jake. You're the one who never chose. You're the one who-" "I didn't run back to Jake. I was trying to figure out what I wanted." "And what did you figure out?" He steps closer, and his voice is sharp now. "Because from where I'm standing, you don't know what you want. You've never known. And you've been dragging both of us along for four years because you're too scared to make a decision."

The words hit you like a blade. "Heeseung, are you serious right now?" "Yes, I'm serious." His voice is cold. "You like the attention. You like knowing we both want you. That's why you never chose. Because if you chose, you'd have to give something up. And you're too selfish to do that." You stare at him. The boy who brought you coffee. The boy who said you were the best thing that ever happened to him. "I slept with you," you say, your voice breaking. "I trusted you. And you're standing here calling me selfish because I caught you kissing someone else?" For a moment, something flickers in his eyes regret, maybe, or shame. But then it's gone. "You should go," he says. You don't move. You can't. "Go, Y/N." His voice is flat. "Go find Jake. Go run back to him like you always do."

The tears come before you can stop them. Hot and fast, streaming down your face, and you hate that he's seeing this, hate that he's the one making you cry. "Fine," you whisper. "You know what I will go run to Jake." You turn. You walk away. You don't look back.

You make it to the front porch before your legs give out. You sink onto the steps, your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking. The tears won't stop. They keep coming, hot and ugly, and you can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything except sit and fall apart. You don't hear the door open. You don't know anyone is there until a jacket settles around your shoulders and a familiar voice says your name. "Y/N." You look up. Jake is kneeling in front of you, his face close, his eyes worried. He's not angry. He's not cold. He's just here. "Hey," he says softly. "Hey, I've got you." You shake your head, try to pull away. "You said I wasn't worth waiting for." He flinches. "I didn't mean it. I was angry. I was hurt. I didn't mean a word of it."

You look at him. His face is open, raw, the way it's always been when it's just the two of you. "He kissed someone else. Heeseung. I saw him. And he said-" Your voice breaks. "He said I'm selfish. He said I like the attention. He said I never choose because I'm too scared to give anything up." Jake's jaw tightens. Something dark passes through his eyes. But he doesn't say anything about Heeseung. He doesn't defend him or attack him. He just looks at you, and his hand finds yours, warm and steady. "He's wrong," he says. "You're not selfish. You're not attention seeking. You're someone who's been hurt, who's been scared, who's been trying to figure out what she wants. And that's okay. That's more than okay." You stare at him. "You really believe that?" "I believe that you're worth waiting for." He squeezes your hand. "I've always believed that. And I'm sorry for what I said. I'm sorry for making you feel like you weren't."

The tears come again, but they're different now. Softer. He pulls you into his arms, his hand on your back, his chin on your head, and you let him hold you. You let yourself be held. "I've got you," he says again. "I'm not going anywhere." You close your eyes. His chest is warm, his arms steady, his heart beating beneath your ear. For the first time in days, you let yourself breathe.

You sit on the steps for a long time, Jake's jacket around your shoulders, his arm around your waist, his hand on your hip. The party noise is muffled behind you, the voices fading into background noise. The night is cool, you're still trying to catch your breath, still trying to stop the tears that keep coming no matter how hard you press your palms to your eyes. Jake doesn't say anything. He doesn't tell you it's going to be okay. He doesn't ask any questions. He just sits beside you, his arm steady around you, his thumb tracing slow circles on your side, waiting.

Your breathing evens out after a while. The tears slow, then stop. You lean into him, your head on his shoulder, and let yourself exist in the quiet. "I'm sorry," you say finally. Your voice is hoarse, raw. "What for?" "For everything. For not telling you about Heeseung. For-" You stop. Your throat tightens. "For making you feel like you were waiting for nothing." He's quiet for a moment. His hand stills on your side. "You didn't make me feel like that," he says. "I said things I didn't mean. I was angry. I was hurt. And I took it out on you. That wasn't fair." "You were right, though." You pull back, look at him. His face is half lit by the porch light, his eyes dark and soft. "I have been running back and forth. I have been scared to choose. I've been so scared of losing one of you that I never let myself have either."

He reaches up, his hand cupping your face, his thumb brushing the tear tracks from your cheek. "You're allowed to be scared. You're allowed to not know what you want. That doesn't make you selfish. That doesn't make you anything except human." You lean into his touch. His palm is warm, his fingers gentle. "I don't want to be scared anymore," you whisper. He looks at you for a long moment. Something shifts in his expression something soft, something careful, something that looks like hope. "Then let me help you forget," he says. You blink. "What?" "Tonight. Forget about Heeseung. Forget about the fight. Forget about everything that happened." His hand slides into your hair, his fingers threading through the strands. "Let me take you somewhere quiet. Somewhere that's just us. And let me remind you that you're worth everything." Your heart pounds. "Jake" He leans in, his forehead touching yours. His breath is warm on your lips. "I'm not asking for anything you're not ready to give. I'm just asking you to let me be here. Let me help you forget." "Okay," you say.

He smiles. The smile that's been yours since the beginning. He stands, pulls you up with him, and his hand finds yours. "My place," he says. "It's closer." You nod. He squeezes your hand once, and you let him lead you off the porch, away from the party, away from Heeseung, away from everything that happened tonight. The night air is cool on your skin, the streets quiet, the campus empty. His hand is warm in yours, his thumb tracing patterns on your palm, and for the first time in days, you let yourself breathe.

The morning after Jake's apartment, you wake up in your own bed. You only remember his hands, his mouth, the way he said your name. You remember the quiet afterwards, his arm around your waist, his breath warm on your neck, the way he held you like he wasn't ready to let go. You stayed until the sun came up. And then you left. Now you're lying in your bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to piece together everything that's happened in the past week. Heeseung in the locker room. Jake on the porch. Heeseung's hands, Jake's mouth. The way both of them said your name like it meant something. Your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You reach for it without looking. Yunjin: I'm coming over. Don't try to stop me. You don't try to stop her.

She shows up twenty minutes later with coffee and a bag of pastries. She doesn't say anything at first. She just sets the coffee on your nightstand, kicks off her shoes, and climbs into bed beside you. You lie there for a moment, side by side, staring at the ceiling. "I slept with Jake after Sunghoon's party and with Heeseung after his game," you say. She doesn't react. You keep going. "Then Jake found out. He said some things. I said some things. We didn't talk for days." You take a breath. "Then at Sunghoon's most recent party, Heeseung kissed someone else. I saw it. We had a fight. He said I was selfish. He said I like the attention. He said I never choose because I'm too scared to give anything up." Yunjin's hand finds yours. She doesn't say anything. "And then Jake found me on the porch. He took me to his place. And I slept with him again."

The words hang in the air. You wait for her to say something to tell you that you're wrong, that you're making a mistake, that you need to figure out what you want before you hurt everyone including yourself. Instead, she squeezes your hand. "That's a lot," she says. You laugh. It's weak. "That's all you have to say?" "I have a lot to say. I'm just trying to figure out where to start." She turns on her side, facing you. "How do you feel? About both of them?" You think about it. About Heeseung's hands in the locker room, the way he looked at you after the game, the way he said he made that shot for you. About Jake on the porch, his arms around you, the way he said you're worth waiting for. "I don't know," you admit. "I care about both of them. I've cared about both of them for four years. And I keep thinking that if I just had more time, I'd figure it out. But it's been four years, Yunjin. And I still don't know."

She's quiet for a moment. Then "Can I tell you something?" You nod. "When I was trying to figure out what I wanted with Jay, I kept waiting for a sign. Something that would tell me it was the right choice. And I waited so long that I almost missed it. I almost let fear keep me from something that could have been really good." She looks at you. "You're not going to get a sign. You're not going to wake up one day and magically know. You have to choose. And it's going to be scary. And you might make the wrong choice. But not choosing that's a choice too. And it's the one that hurts everyone the most."

You stare at her. "Since when did you get so wise?" She smiles. "Since I spent two years watching you do exactly what I was doing." You laugh, and it's real this time. "What should I do?" "I think you should talk to him. Heeseung. Hear what he has to say." She squeezes your hand. "Not because you have to forgive him. Not because you have to choose him. But because you deserve to know the whole story before you make up your mind."

You think about it. About Heeseung's face in the hallway, the way he said you should go. About the fight, the words that are still echoing in your head. "What if he was right?" you ask. "What if I am selfish? What if I do just like the attention?" Yunjin's face hardens. "He was wrong. He was hurt and he was angry and he said things he shouldn't have said. But that doesn't mean you should let those words live in your head forever." She sits up, swings her legs over the side of the bed. "Talk to him. Hear him out. And then decide what you want." She leaves before you can respond. The door closes behind her, and you're alone again, staring at the ceiling, thinking about her words.

He texts you that afternoon. Can we talk? You stare at the message for a long time. Your thumbs hover over the keyboard. Where? The library steps. Where we always used to meet. I'll wait. You put your phone down. You get dressed. You walk across campus, your hands in your pockets, your heart pounding.

He's sitting on the steps when you arrive. His jacket is unzipped, his hair is messy, and he looks like he hasn't slept. When he sees you, he stands up, and for a moment, neither of you moves. "Thanks for coming," he says. You don't say anything. You sit down on the steps. After a moment, he sits beside you. Not too close. Far enough that you could walk away if you wanted to. "I was wrong," he says. "At the party. Everything I said it was wrong. I was angry. I was hurt. And I took it out on you." You look at him. "You kissed someone else." He flinches. "I know." "After you asked me to come. After you danced with me. After you said you missed me." "I know." His voice cracks. "I don't have an excuse. I was scared. I was-" He stops. Runs a hand through his hair. "I saw you with Jake. At the party before. I saw you dancing with him. And I couldn't stop thinking about it. About you. About him. About what it would be like when you finally chose him." "That doesn't give you the right to kiss someone else." "I know." He turns to look at you. His eyes are red rimmed, his face open in a way you've rarely seen. "I've been in love with you for four years. And I've been watching you with him, watching you not choose, telling myself that if I just waited long enough, you'd see me the way I see you. And then you came to the game. You came to the locker room. You came to my dorm. And I thought-" His voice breaks. "I thought maybe I'd finally won. Maybe you'd finally chosen me."

You don't say anything. You let him talk. "And then I saw you with Jake at the party. The way you looked at him. The way he looked at you. And I realized-" He stops. Swallows. "I realized I was never going to be him. I was never going to be the one you ran to when things got hard. I was never going to be the one who stayed." "You never stayed," you say quietly. "That was the problem. You were always leaving. Always disappearing. Always making me wait while you figured out what you wanted." He looks at you. "Is that what you think?" "That's what you did."

He's quiet for a moment. "I was scared. Every time I get close to you, I get scared. Scared that you'd choose him. Scared that I wasn't good enough. Scared that if I let myself want you too much, I'd lose you. So I pushed. I pulled away. I made excuses. And I hurt you because I was too scared to let myself be hurt." You look at him. At the man who's been running from something he's wanted for four years. "I'm not asking you to forgive me," he says. "I'm not asking you to choose me. I just-I needed you to know before it's too late, before I-." Your throat tightens. "Before you what?" "Nothing, it's nothing dont worry about it." He says voice shaky letting you know it is something to worry about but you don't push.

You look at his hand. At his face. At the years of wanting and waiting and never quite choosing. You take a breath. "I'm glad we were able to talk things out." His hand tightens around yours. "Does that mean-" "It means I'm not going to disappear. It means I'm going to think about what you said. It means-" You stop. Look at him. "It means I'm not going to make a decision right now. I need time." He nods slowly. "I can wait." You pull your hand away. Stand up. He stands with you. "I'm not asking you to wait," you say. He smiles. It's small, sad, real. "I know." You turn. You walk away. You don't look back. But this time, it doesn't feel like an ending.

The weeks after your conversation with Heeseung settle into something you didn't expect. It's not a relationship. It's not a choice. It's not anything you can name. But there's a rhythm now, a balance that wasn't there before. You see Heeseung at practice, watch him from the stands sometimes, let him walk you to class when your schedules align. You see Jake at the dining hall, let him save you a seat, let his hand find yours under the table when no one's looking. Neither of them pushes. Neither of them asks. Neither of them makes you choose. You're not sure if that makes it easier or harder.

"You're doing it again," Yunjin says. You're sitting in her apartment, a textbook open in your lap, your phone face-down on the couch beside you. She's sprawled on the other end, a bag of chips in her hand, watching you with the particular expression she gets when she's about to say something you don't want to hear. "Doing what?" "Staring at nothing. Thinking about them." You look at her. "I'm studying." "You've been on the same page for like an hour." You glance down at your textbook. She's right. You haven't read a single word. Yunjin sets the chips aside, pulls her legs under her. "Talk to me." You close the book. "I don't know what to do." "About which one?" "About both." You lean your head back against the couch, stare at the ceiling. "I keep thinking that if I just had more time, I'd figure it out. But it's been four years, Yunjin."

She's quiet for a bit then says. "Maybe you're not supposed to know. Maybe you're supposed to stop trying to figure it out and just feel." You look at her. "That's very philosophical for someone who spent two years pretending she didn't like Jay." She throws a pillow at you. "I'm trying to help." You catch the pillow, hold it against your chest. "I know. I just don't want to hurt anyone. And I feel like no matter what I do, someone's going to get hurt." She slides closer, her knee bumping yours. "You can't control that. You can only control what you do. And whatever you choose, whatever happens, I'm here. Okay?" You look at her. At the person who's been your anchor for four years. "Okay."

She grins. "Good. Now stop moping. We have a party to get ready for." You blink. "What party?" "Sunghoon's end of semester thing. The big one. Everyone's going to be there." You groan. "Another party?" "This one's different." She's already on her feet, pulling you up. "This is the last one. The final party. The one everyone talks about for years after. You can't miss it." "I'm tired of parties." "You're tired of thinking. That's different."

She pulls you toward her closet, starts flipping through hangers. "You need to let loose. Dance. Drink. Forget about everything for one night. And everyone's going to be there. Jake. Heeseung. The whole group. It's going to be perfect." You lean against the doorframe. "What if I don't want to see them?" "Then don't see them. But you can't hide forever." She pulls out a dress, holds it against you. "Besides, you look hot in this. And if you look hot, you feel hot. And if you feel hot, you stop thinking about stupid boys for five minutes." You look at the dress. It's black, short, the kind of dress you wear when you want to be noticed. The kind of dress you haven't worn in weeks. "Fine," you say. "One hour." She grins. "Ughhhh That's what you always sayyy."

Sunghoon's house is packed as always, the music loud enough to feel in your chest, the lights low and golden. You can hear laughter from every room, see bodies pressed together, catch glimpses of faces you've known for years and faces you've never seen before. Yunjin pulls you through the crowd, her hand tight on your wrist, her energy infectious. She's wearing the dress she bought for tonight, the one she's been saving, and she looks like she's ready to take over the world. "Drink," she says, shoving a cup into your hand. "Sunoo's punch. It's terrible. Drink it anyway." You take a sip. It is terrible. You take another. You let her pull you onto the dance floor, let the music move through you, let yourself forget for a moment that you came here with weights on your chest. Yunjin is laughing, her arms around your neck, her voice loud in your ear, and for the first time in weeks, you let yourself exist in the moment.

You see Jake across the room. He's leaning against the wall, a cup in his hand, watching you with something soft in his eyes. When you catch his gaze, he smiles, small and real, and something in your chest loosens. You see Heeseung on the other side. He's standing with Sunghoon, his favorite leather jacket on , his hair falling across his forehead. He's watching you too, his expression unreadable, but when your eyes meet, he nods. Just once. You look away first.

The night moves on. You dance until your feet hurt. You drink until the edges of the room go soft. You laugh at things that aren't funny, let yourself be pulled from room to room, let the noise and the lights and the bodies press in around you until you forget why you were ever scared. Yunjin finds you in the kitchen, her face flushed, her hair escaping from the clip she's been fighting all night. "Sunghoon's setting up a game," she says, breathless. "What game?" She grins. "Seven minutes in heaven. You're playing." You shake your head. "I'm not playing." "You're playing." She grabs your arm, pulls you toward the living room. "Everyone's playing. It's tradition."

The living room has been transformed. A bottle sits in the center of the floor, surrounded by pillows and cushions, and the hallway leading to the bedrooms is dimly lit, a closet at the end waiting. People are gathered in a circle, sitting on the floor, leaning against walls, cups in hands, faces lit up with anticipation. You see Jake on one side of the circle, Heeseung on the other. They're not looking at each other. They're looking at you. Yunjin pulls you down beside her. Sunghoon is in the center, his phone in his hand, his face serious. "Rules are simple," he announces. "Spin the bottle. Seven minutes in the closet. Whatever happens in there stays in there."

The first spin lands on Sunoo and a girl you don't recognize. They disappear down the hallway, and the room holds its breath. Seven minutes later, they emerge, flushed and laughing, and the circle erupts. The bottle spins again. And again. Each time, two people disappear down the hallway, and the room waits, and the night stretches on. You're watching, not participating, when Sunghoon calls your name. "Your turn." You look at him. "I'm not playing." "You're playing." He's already reaching for the bottle, his fingers wrapping around the glass. "It's your senior year. You can't say no." He spins. The bottle turns. Once. Twice. Three times. It slows, wobbles, stops. Pointing directly at Jake.

The room erupts. Yunjin shoves you forward, and you stumble into the center of the circle. Across from you, Jake is already standing, his face unreadable, his hands in his pockets, his eyes fixed on you. "Seven minutes," Sunghoon announces, pulling out his phone. "Timer starts now." Someone pushes you toward the hallway. Jake follows. The closet door closes behind you, and suddenly it's just the two of you, in the dark, the noise of the party muffled to a distant hum.

The closet is small. There's barely enough room for the two of you, your shoulders touching. Clothes hang above you, jackets and coats that smell like Sunghoon's house, like the parties you've been coming to for four years. For a moment, neither of you moves. "Hi," he says. "Hi." He laughs softly. "This isn't how I pictured our next conversation going." "How did you picture it?" "I don't know. Less... closet." You laugh, and it's nervous, maybe, or something else you don't want to name. "It's very closet." "Very closet." He shifts beside you, his arm brushing yours. "I've been wanting to talk to you. For a while. About what happened at the party. About ya know everything." "You don't have to explain." "I want to." He turns to face you, and even in the dark, you can see his face, the sparkle in his eyes, the openness that's always been there. "I've been in love with you since freshman year. I know you're not ready to hear that. I know you're still figuring things out. But I needed you to know. Before everything changes."

Your heart is pounding. "Jake-" "I'm not asking you to choose. I'm not asking you to be ready. I'm just asking you to let me be here. For as long as you want me." You step closer. He doesn't move. He waits. You kiss him. It's soft. Gentle. The way he's always been. His hands come up to your face, cupping your cheeks, and he kisses you back like he's been waiting for this his whole life. His lips are warm, his hands steady, and for a moment, there's nothing else. No party. No future. No choices. Just him. He pulls back first, his forehead against yours, his breathing uneven. "I don't want to rush you," he breathes. "You're not rushing me." "I don't want to be something you regret." You look at him, his dark eyes, his swollen lips, the way he's looking at you like you're the only thing that matters. "You're not something I regret," you say. "You never have been." He kisses you again, and this time, there's nothing careful about it.

Neither of you hears the timer. The door opens. Light floods in, and you blink, disoriented, your hands still tangled in Jake's hair, his arms still wrapped around your waist. Heeseung is standing in the doorway. His face is unreadable. His hands are clenched at his sides. He looks at you. He looks at Jake. He looks at the way Jake's hands are on your waist, the way your fingers are still in his hair. "Time's up," he says. His voice is flat. You step back. Jake's hands fall away. The hallway is crowded. People are watching. You can feel their eyes on you, waiting to see what happens next. Yunjin is at the front of the crowd, her hand over her mouth. Sunghoon is beside her, his phone still in his hand, the timer long since finished.

Heeseung doesn't move. He just stands there, blocking the door, his eyes fixed on you. "Out," he says. You move to leave. But before you can step past him, his hand shoots out, blocking the door. "Not you," he says. He looks at Jake. "Him." Jake tenses. "Heeseung-" "Out." For a moment, no one moves. Then Jake looks at you, something unreadable in his eyes. And walks away. Heeseung doesn't give you time to process what's happening before he drags you into a room. Little did you know Jake was just a few steps behind.

It's just you and Heeseung, in the room, the noise of the party fading to nothing. He doesn't touch you. He doesn't move. He just stands there, his hand still on the wall behind you, his breathing heavy. "You've been doing this for four years," he says. "Running back and forth. Making us wait. Making us want." "Heeseung-" He turns to face you. His eyes are dark, his jaw tight, his chest heaving. "I've been watching you with him. Watching you not choose. And I told myself it was fine. I told myself I could wait. But I can't keep doing this." "What are you saying?" He steps closer. Close enough that you can feel the heat of him, smell the familiar scent of his jacket, see the pulse beating in his throat. "I'm saying that if you want him, I need you to choose. Not because I think I deserve you. But because I can't keep being the person you come to when you're not sure about him."

Your throat tightens. "I never used you." "I know." His voice is softer now. "I know you didn't. But I've been waiting for four years for you to see me the way I see you. And I don't think you ever will." You stare at him. "Don't say that." "It's the truth." He steps closer, his body nearly touching yours. His hand comes up, his fingers brushing your cheek. You lean into his touch without thinking, your body betraying you, wanting him even when you're not sure you should. "Then stop pretending," you whisper. His eyes darken. His hand slides into your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands. "Tell me what you want," he says. You look at him. At the man who's been chasing you for four years. "I want you," you say. "I want both of you." His breath catches. His hand tightens in your hair. "Both of us?" You nod. Your heart is pounding, your chest tight, your body humming with something you've never let yourself want before.

He pulls back, just enough to look at you. Something passes through his eyes, surprise, maybe, or hunger, or something else you can't name. He opens the door of the room. The hallway is empty now, the crowd moved on, the game forgotten. But to your surprise Jake is right outside the door looking like a deer caught in the headlights. "Jake," he calls. His face is guarded, his hands in his pockets, his eyes moving between you and Heeseung. Heeseung looks at Jake, and something passes between them, something that looks like understanding. "She wants both of us," Heeseung says. Jake's eyes widen. He looks at you. "Is that true?" He says stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

You step forward, your hand still in Heeseung's, your eyes on Jake. "I'm tired of choosing," you say. "I'm tired of running back and forth. I'm tired of pretending I don't want what I want." Jake stares at you. His hands drop to his sides. His face is open, raw, the way it only is when it's just the two of you. "And what do you want?" he asks. You look between them. Heeseung on one side, his hand tight around yours, his eyes dark, his chest heaving. Jake on the other, his face soft, his hands reaching for you, his heart in his hands. "I want you," you say. "Both of you. Tonight."

The silence that follows is louder than anything they could have said. Heeseung moves first. He pulls you toward him, his hand cupping your face, his mouth finding yours. He kisses you hard, desperate, like he's been waiting for this his whole life. You kiss him back, your hands fisting in his jacket, pulling him closer. When he pulls back, Jake is there. His hand finds your waist, turning you toward him, and his mouth is on yours, softer, slower, the way he's always been. You're between them. You've always been between them. But this time it's different. Heeseung's hand slides down your back. Jake's hand finds your hip. They're both touching you, both holding you, both looking at you like you're the only thing in the world that matters. Heeseung's lips brush your ear. "You sure about this?" You look at Jake. He nods. You look at Heeseung. His eyes are dark, his breathing uneven, his hand steady on your waist. "I'm sure," you say.

Heeseung looks at Jake. Something passes between them years of competition, of wanting, of waiting. And then Heeseung nods. "You've been thinking about this," he says. His voice is low, rough. "Haven't you?" Your breath catches. "Heeseung-" "Answer me." His hand slides up your throat, giving it a slight squeeze and letting it rest there, his thumb pressed against your pulse. He can feel how fast your heart is beating. He can feel how much you want this. "Yes," you breathe. He smiles. It's not the smile you're used to. It's darker, sharper, the smile of someone who knows exactly what he wants and knows exactly how to get it. He turns you to face him, his hands cupping your face, his thumbs tracing your cheekbones. "Yes what?" "I need words cause once I start there's no going back." "Yes," you say. "I'm sure. I want this. I want both of you so much." His mouth curves into something dangerous. "My good girl."

He kisses you. Hard. Deep. His tongue slides against yours, and his hands are everywhere from your hair, your waist, your hips. He kisses like he's claiming you, and you let him. You arch into him, your hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer. When he pulls back, your head spins. Your chest heaves. You're already breathless. He looks at Jake over your shoulder. "You want to touch her?" Jake's voice is rough. "Yes." "Then touch her." Jake's hands find your waist. His touch is softer than Heeseung's, gentler, but no less hungry. He pulls you back against his chest, his arms wrapping around you, his mouth finding your neck. Heeseung watches. His eyes move over you, over Jake's hands on your body, over the way you lean into his touch. Over the way Jake leans into your touch. "Take off her shirt," Heeseung says. Without hesitation Jake's hands slide under your shirt, pushing it up. He pulls it over your head, and the cool air hits your skin. His hands are warm on your stomach, your ribs, the sides of your breasts. "Her bra," Heeseung says. Jake unhooks it. His fingers are trembling. The bra falls to the floor, and Jake makes a sound behind you something low, something desperate as his hands cup your breasts.

Heeseung steps closer. His hand slides into your hair tugging it to tilt your head back. "You like this? You like the attention? Having both of us touch you?" "Yes, fuck I love It so much." His thumb traces your lower lip. "You're going to be so good for us tonight. Aren't you?" You nod. Your tongue flicks against his thumb. His eyes darken. "Get on the bed," he says. You lie back on the mattress. The sheets are cool against your skin, and the two of them stand at the foot of the bed, watching you. Jake's hands are shaking. Heeseung's are steady. "Jake," Heeseung says. "Her breasts. Seems to need some attention." Jake moves onto the bed, settling beside you. His mouth finds your nipple, and you gasp. His tongue is soft, gentle, the way he always is. He sucks lightly, his hand cupping your other breast, his thumb circling your nipple. Alternating between the two.

Heeseung kneels between your legs. His hands push your thighs apart, and you spread for him without thinking, your body already responding to his touch. "Look at you," he says. "Already so wet like some stupid slut. You've been wanting this, haven't you?" "Mhmm yes, want it so much." His fingers slowly trace your slit, gathering wetness, circling your clit. Your hips buck trying to get more. He presses you back down with his other hand. And lands a smack to your clit making you squirm under him. "Behave, not yet." "We're going to take our time with you pretty girl."

He slides one finger inside you. Then two. Your back arches, and Jake's mouth is on your breast, sucking harder now, his tongue flicking against your nipple. Heeseung's fingers curl inside you, finding the spot that makes your vision blur. "That's it," Heeseung murmurs. "You like that? You like when he plays with your nipples while I finger you?" You can't answer. Your hands grip the sheets. The pressure is building, coiling tight in your belly, and you're so close, so close- He pulls his fingers out. You cry out. The sound is desperate, broken, and Heeseung looks at you with satisfaction in his eyes. "Did you think I was going to let you cum that easily?" "Please," you gasp. "Please, I need- I want-" "Already so fucked out cant even form words huh? Tell me what do you need?" "I need to cum. Please, Heeseung. I'll be good. I'll be so good for you guys. Just let me cum."

He looks at Jake. "Eat her out. Make her taste herself on my fingers." Jake moves down the bed. His hands push your thighs apart, taking a moment to take in how wet you are, before you know it his mouth finds you. His tongue is soft at first, tentative, then firmer, faster, lapping at you like he's been starving. His fingers dig into your thighs, holding you open, and the sound he makes loud yet low, desperate and hungry sends heat flooding through your body. Heeseung is watching. His hand is in his pants, stroking himself, his eyes fixed on your face. Then down to Jake eating you out like a starved man. "She tastes good, doesn't she?" he asks. Jake moans against you sending waves throughout your body. His tongue circles your clit, faster now, and your hips buck against his face. He holds you down, his mouth relentless, his jaw working, and you can feel yourself getting close again, can feel the pressure building.

Heeseung pulls his hand out of his pants. His cock is hard, red and wet with pre cum at the tip begging for attention, he moves up the bed straddling your chest. "You're going to open your mouth for me right princess?" He says. You open your mouth. He slides his cock across your face and lips spreading his pre cum all over than finally into your mouth. The taste of him is warm and salty you moan around him, your tongue working, your lips stretching. His hand tangles in your hair, guiding you, setting the pace. "That's it. Take all of it like a fucking champ." Jake's mouth is still on you, his tongue still working, all while rutting onto the edge of the mattress pants already damp leaving a wet mark. Heeseung's hips are moving fast, pushing deeper into your throat, and you're drowning in sensation of the taste of him, the feel of Jake's tongue, the pressure building stronger in your stomach.

Heeseung pulls out. A strand of saliva connects you to him, and he smears it across your lips. And takes a look at Jakes wrecked state. "Pathetic fucking loser." He says loud enough for Jake to hear and make him let out a high pitched moan. Heeseung diverts his attention back to your flushed face lips parted trying to catch your breath. "I want to cum on your face," he says. "You want that?" "Yes Hee want it so much, please." He strokes himself over you, fast, hard, his jaw tight, his eyes fixed on your face. When he cums, it's across your cheeks, your lips, your chin. Hot and thick. You feel it dripping down your skin, and you lick your lips, taste him, swallow. Then open your mouth to show. Heeseung watches you. "My good fucking girl."

He looks at Jake. "She came on your face?" Jake lifts his head. His mouth is slick, his chin wet, his chest heaving. "Not yet." Heeseung's hand finds your clit. You jerk. Your body is oversensitive, trembling, and the pressure is unbearable. "Then make her fucking cum loser." He pushes Jakes head back down holding it down until he's done. His tongue is faster now, harder, and Heeseung's fingers are inside you, curling, pressing, driving you toward the edge. Your hands find their hair Jake's soft strands, Heeseung's thicker ones and you hold on as the pressure builds, as your body tightens, as the world narrows to the feel of them. You cum on Jake's face. Your body arches, your mouth opens, and Heeseung's name tears from your throat. Jake drinks you down, his tongue lapping at you, and Heeseung's fingers work you through it, drawing it out until you're shaking, until you're begging him to stop.

He pulls his fingers out. Licks them clean. Dives his finger back in coating his fingers with your slick. "Open," he says leaving no more for argument. The second you open your mouth he hovers right above it and spits into it than finger fucks your mouth. Heeseung's fingers curl deeper into your mouth, pressing against your tongue, and the sound you make is wet, desperate, muffled around his knuckles. Saliva drips down your chin, pooling in the hollow of your throat, and your eyes water from the stretch, from the way he's holding you open, from the way he's watching you with something dark and satisfied in his expression. "My good little whore," he says. Making u moan against him. "Jake, fuck her dumb." He states

Jake is frozen, absolutely dazed, face flushed in awe at the way you're literally glowing. And watching Heeseung's fingers slide in and out of your mouth. Watching the mess he's making of you. Watching the way you take it. "What? Want me to finger fuck you to or something?" He teases, making himself let out a low chuckle. And Jake a high pitched whimper. "No fucking way" Heeseung says making direct eye contact with Jake. "You like watching?" His voice is low, rough, pitched for Jake's ears. His fingers never stop moving in your mouth. "You want to know what it feels like?" All of a sudden Jake's throat feels dry. His voice comes out strangled. "I-"

Heeseung's fingers slide out of your mouth with a wet pop. He reaches down, his fingers dragging through the mess on your chin, your throat, collecting the wetness on his knuckles from spit, tears and his cum all over you. Then he turns to Jake. He holds his hand out. His fingers are soaked, glistening in the low light. Jake stares at them. His breath catches. His lips part. Heeseung's thumb presses against Jake's lower lip, pulling it down. "Open up." Jake's eyes flutter. His mouth falls open. Heeseung pushes his fingers inside, slowly, watching Jake's face the whole time. Jake's eyes widen. His hands grip the sheets tighter. He makes a sound something between a gasp and a moan and Heeseung's expression shifts, something hungry surfacing. "There," Heeseung breathes. "That's it. Take it little boy." His fingers slide deeper. Jake's eyes close. His mouth works around them, tongue sliding against Heeseung's knuckles, and the sound he makes is low, desperate, muffled.

You watch them, your chest rising and falling, your body still trembling from Heeseung's hands on you. Jake's face is flushed, his lips stretched around Heeseung's fingers, his whole body arched toward him. Making you feel dizzy. Heeseung pulls his fingers out slowly, dragging them across Jake's tongue before letting them slide free. Jake gasps out of breath, his eyes opening, dark and wide. Heeseung looks at his hand, slick with spit, and then he looks at you. His mouth curves. "Liked the show didn't you," he says, his voice low teasing.

Before Jake lets his thoughts consume him he moves over you. His body covers yours, his arms bracketing your head, his hips settling between your legs. His face is wet, his lips swollen, his eyes dark. "You okay?" he asks. His voice is soft, checking. You pull him down, kiss him. You can taste yourself on his lips, taste Heeseung on your own. "Fuck me Jake." He pushes inside you. You're so wet that he slides in easily, and you both moan at the feeling of it him filling you, you clenching around him. He moves slow at first, his hips rocking against yours, his mouth on your neck. "You're so tight," he groans. "So fucking tight."

Heeseung is beside you. His hands find your breasts, playing with your nipples, pinching, rolling, sending sparks of pleasure through your overstimulated body. His mouth finds your ear. "You like that? You like him inside you while I touch you?" "Mmm fuck yeahh." He pinches harder. Your hips buck. Jake groans. Heeseung's hand slides down your stomach, finds your clit. He presses, circles, works you while Jake fucks you, and it's too much, not enough, everything. "I'm close," Jake gasps. "I'm going to-" "Not yet." Heeseung's voice is sharp. "She cums first." Making Jake groan. He presses harder on your clit. His fingers circle faster. Jake's hips drive into you, faster now, losing control, and you can feel yourself climbing, feel the pressure building, feel the edge approaching. "Come on," Heeseung says. "Cum for him. Let him feel you."

You break. Your body clenches around Jake, your hands grip his shoulders, your voice breaks on his name. He follows a moment later, his face buried in your neck, his hips stuttering against yours, his body shuddering. He collapses beside you. His chest heaves. His skin is slick with sweat.

But Heeseung isn't done. He rolls you onto your stomach, pulls your hips up. You feel him behind you, his cock pressing against your entrance, already hard again. "She's done," Jake says. His voice is concerned. "She needs a break." Heeseung looks at you. "You're my good girl you take whatever I give you, right?" You nod your head. Your voice is hoarse. "I want- I need- you- more- give me please." He pushes inside you. You cry out. You're oversensitive, raw, and every nerve is on fire. His hands grip your hips, holding you steady, and he fucks you hard, fast, the way he fucks when he's lost control.

Your body arches. Your hands claw at anything you can get a hold of. He's thick, stretching you, filling you, and the pressure of him inside you makes your eyes roll back. He doesn't wait. He doesn't give you time to adjust. He moves hard, fast, his hips driving into you, his mouth on your neck, his hands gripping your thighs. The sound of it fills the room. Skin slapping against skin. The bed frame hitting the wall. Your moans, his grunts, the wet sounds of him moving inside you. He fucks you like he's been waiting for this, like he's been holding back for years, like every night he spent watching you with Jake is being driven out of him with every thrust. "You feel that?" he says. "You feel how good you are? How perfect you are for this?" Your hands fist the sheets. Your body is shaking, your mind blank, your mouth open. You can't form words. You can only feel.

He reaches around, finds your clit. You sob. It's too much. You can't take it. But he doesn't stop. His fingers work you, his hips drive into you, and the pleasure is so intense it hurts, burns, consumes you. "I can't," you gasp. "I can't, I can't-" "You can." His voice is hard. "You're going to cum for me. You're going to cum so hard you forget your own name." Jake moves closer. His hand finds yours, holds it. His other hand cups your face, turns you toward him. "I've got you," he says. "We've got you." Heeseung's fingers press harder. His hips drive deeper. "Cum on my cock. Show me who you belong to." Was your final straw leading the pressure inside you to break.

You scream and chant both of there names like a mantra. Your body convulses, your vision whites out, and you feel yourself gush around him, soaking the sheets and soaking him your body releasing everything. Heeseung groans, his hips slamming into you one last time, and you feel him cum inside filling u up, the heat of him, the way his body shakes. He pulls out. You collapse onto the bed. Your face is wet. You're not sure if it's tears or spit or cum. You can't move. You can't think. You can only lie there, trembling, while they clean you up. Jake's hands are gentle, wiping your face, your chest, your thighs. Heeseung brings a towel, warm water, cleans the mess between your legs. They turn you over, lift you, change the sheets while you lie there, too spent to help. When they're done, they pull you between them. Jake's arm wraps around your waist. Heeseung's chest is warm against your back. "Too much?" Jake asks. You shake your head. Your voice is barely a whisper. "Perfect." Heeseung presses a kiss to your shoulder. "You did so good baby." Your eyes close. Their hands are on you, gentle now, soothing. Jake's fingers trace patterns on your hip. Heeseung's breath evens out against your neck. The last thing you feel is their arms tightening around you, holding you together as you drift.

The next week is strange. You see them both around campus, but you don't seek them out. You don't text. You don't call, allowing yourself to form your thoughts. You let the days pass, let yourself exist in the space between what happened and what comes next.

Heeseung shows up at your apartment on a random Wednesday. "Can I come in?" he asks. You step aside. He sits on your couch. You sit across from him. The space between you feels like miles. "It started as a bet," he says. "Freshman year. We were drunk. Jay made a joke. It was supposed to be stupid. Something we'd forget about by the next day." You don't say anything. "But then I saw you at the library. You were sitting by the window, and you looked up when I walked in, and you-" He stops. Swallows. "You smiled at me. Like you knew me. Like you'd been waiting for me. And I forgot there was ever a bet."

You look at him. "You never told me." "I was scared." His voice cracks. "I was scared that if you knew how it started, you'd never believe how it ended. I was scared you'd look at me and only see the stupid kid who made a bet, not the person who fell in love with you." He moves to kneel in front of you, his hands finding yours. His fingers are cold, trembling. "I love you," he says. "I've loved you since the first time I saw you. And I've spent four years trying to be someone worth loving back. I know I've messed up. I know I've hurt you. But the bet was never real. Not after the first week. Not after I knew you."

"I love you too," you say. "But I don't know if that's enough." He closes his eyes. His hands tighten around yours. "I'm leaving, I got scouted to play in the major leagues" he says. "At the end of the summer. I'm moving across the country. And I'm not going to ask you to wait." He looks up at you. "I think- I think I need to start over. Somewhere new. Somewhere I'm not the person who made a bet. Somewhere I'm just me." Your throat tightens. "Heeseung-" "I'm not saying goodbye." His voice is rough. "I'm not saying this is the end. But I need to go. I need to figure out who I am when I'm not chasing you. When I'm not waiting. When I'm not hoping."

You don't know what to say. Your chest is too full, your throat too tight. He stands up. He pulls you with him. His hands cup your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks. "If it's meant to be," he says, "I'll find my way back. And if it's not-" He stops. Swallows. "If it's not, I need you to know that you were the best thing that ever happened to me. And I'm sorry I was too scared to tell you sooner." He kisses you. Soft. Slow. The way he kissed you in the locker room. He pulls back. He looks at you one more time. And then he walks out the door.

You stand there for a long time after he leaves. Your face is wet. Your hands are shaking. You don't know how long you stand there, in the middle of your apartment, the door closed, the silence pressing in. Your phone buzzes. You don't look at it. It buzzes again. You pick it up. Jake: Can we talk? You stare at the message. Your fingers hover over the keyboard. Come over.

He's at your door in fifteen minutes. He doesn't sit. He stands in the middle of your living room, his hands at his sides, his face open in a way you've never seen. "You know about the bet," he says. You nod. "I should have told you. I should have told you a hundred times. But I was scared. I was scared you'd walk away. I was scared you'd look at me the way you're looking at me now." You don't say anything. You let him talk. "It started as a joke. A stupid, immature joke. And I spent four years trying to make up for it. Trying to be someone worth choosing." He looks at you. "I love you a lot. I've loved you since the first time I saw you. And I know I messed up. I know I hurt you. But that bet was never real. Not after I knew you."

"I know," you say. He stares at you. "You know?" "I know it wasn't real. I know it stopped being a bet a long time ago." You step closer. "I'm still angry. I'm still hurt. But I know." His face crumples. His hands find yours, his fingers cold, trembling. "I thought I lost you." "You didn't lose me." "I thought you were going to choose him. Heeseung. I thought-" His voice breaks. You reach up, your hand cupping his face. "I need time. I need to figure out who I am when I'm not being chased. When I'm not being fought over." He nods. His eyes are wet. "I'll wait. I've been waiting for four years. I can wait a little longer." You pull him into your arms. He holds you like he's never letting go. "I love you," he says against your hair. "I've always loved you." You close your eyes. His arms are warm around you, his heart beating against your chest, his breath steady in your ear. "I love you too," you say.

He pulls back, looks at you. "So that means-" "It means I'm not going anywhere. It means I'm going to take some time to figure out what I want. And when I'm ready-" You stop. Look at him. "When I'm ready, I want it to be you." He kisses you. Soft. Gentle. The way he's always been. When he pulls back, he's smiling. It's the smile that's been yours since the beginning.

Graduation comes faster than you expect. The ceremony is long and hot, the speeches predictable, the crowd a sea of caps and gowns. Yunjin cries during the address. Sakura pretends she isn't crying too. Chae takes approximately seven thousand photos. Jake is in the row ahead of you. He turns around when your name is called, his smile wide, his eyes bright. You walk across the stage, diploma in hand, and when you sit back down, his hand finds yours.

After the ceremony, everyone gathers on the lawn outside the auditorium. The whole group is there, Yunjin with her arm looped through Jay's, Sakura and Chae are taking photos with Sunoo. Sunghoon is trying to get everyone organized for a group picture, which is proving impossible. Jungwon is laughing at something Ni-ki said. Heeseung is standing with his family nearby, his cap already off, his gown unzipped. You find him after a moment. He sees you coming and excuses himself from his parents. "Congratulations," you say. "You too." He shrugs. "I just threw a ball through a hoop. You, on the other hand, did something impressive." You laugh. "You're ridiculous." "You've mentioned that."

Jake appears beside you. His hand finds your waist. Heeseung looks at him, and for a moment, neither of them says anything. Then Heeseung smiles. "Take care of her." "I plan to." "She's stubborn. She doesn't eat when she's stressed. She pretends she's fine when she's not. You have to watch for that." Jake nods. "I know." Heeseung looks at you. "And you stop pretending you have it all figured out. No one does. That's the secret." You laugh, and it's real, and it hurts, and it's exactly what you needed. "I'm going to miss you," you say. "I'm going to miss you too." He pulls you into a hug, quick and tight. 

When he pulls back, his eyes are wet. "Don't let him be boring. He has a tendency." Jake rolls his eyes. "I'm standing right here." "I know." Heeseung grins. "That's the point."

They look at each other. Four years of competition, of wanting, of waiting. And now, this. "When you're on TV," Jake says, "I'm going to tell everyone I knew you before you were famous." "I'm going to deny it." "I'm going to ask you for money." "I'm going to block your number." They laugh. You laugh too. And for a moment, it feels like everything is exactly the way it's supposed to be.

Sunghoon finally gets everyone organized for a group photo. The whole crew gathers on the steps of the auditorium. Yunjin and Jay, Sakura and Chae, Sunoo and Sunghoon, Jungwon and Ni-ki, you and Jake, and Heeseung, who's stayed even though he already took photos with his family. "Everyone squeeze in," Sunghoon calls, setting up his phone on a tripod. "Ni-ki, stop messing with Jungwon." "I'm just fixing his shirt god fricking forbid." "You're messing it up." The timer counts down. Three. Two. One. The photo captures everyone mid-laugh, mid-argument, mid-moment. It's messy and imperfect and exactly right.

After the photo, people start to drift. Sunghoon is already planning the after party. Yunjin is dragging Jay toward the parking lot. Sakura and Chae are arguing about where to go for food. Sunoo is trying to get everyone's drink orders. You're standing with Jake and Heeseung, the three of you off to the side, watching the chaos. "One more," someone says. You turn. It's Jungwon, holding up his phone. "One more photo. For old times." You laugh. You pull Jake closer. Heeseung steps in on your other side. Jungwon lifts his phone, and Ni-ki appears beside him, leaning into the frame. "Three, two-"

"Wait," Ni-ki says. He's not looking at the camera. He's looking across the lawn, at a girl standing near the fountain, holding what looked like her brother's cap while taking pictures for him. "Who's that?" Jungwon follows his gaze. His phone lowers. "I don't know. I've never seen her before." "Me neither." Ni-ki tilts his head. "She's cute." Jungwon looks at her. "She's really cute." They stand there for a moment, both of them watching her, both of them forgetting about the photo.

Jay appears beside them, Sunghoon trailing behind. "What are you two staring at?" Ni-ki nods toward the girl. "Her." Jay looks. He looks at Sunghoon. Sunghoon looks at Jay. A slow grin spreads across Jay's face. "Oh no," Sunghoon says. "What?" Jungwon looks between them. "What is it?" "Nothing." Jay's grin widens. "I've just seen this before." Sunghoon shakes his head, laughing. "Not again." "Not again what?" Ni-ki asks.

Jay puts an arm around each of them. "Let me tell you a story. About a bet. About two guys who thought they knew what they wanted. About four years of chasing and fighting and messing everything up." Jungwon and Ni-ki look at each other. They look at the girl by the fountain. "Here's the thing," Jay says. "That bet? Neither of them won. Not really. But they both ended up exactly where they were supposed to be." Ni-ki looks at the girl again. She's laughing at something, her head thrown back, now posing for pictures. "So what you're saying is-" "I'm saying be careful." Jay's voice is lighter now, teasing. "That girl? She might be trouble." Jungwon grins. "We like trouble." Sunghoon groans. "Oh my gosh here we go again."

They're still talking when you turn away, your hand in Jake's, Heeseung walking beside you. The afternoon sun is warm, the campus spread out before you, the future waiting somewhere beyond the gates. "You think they'll figure it out?" Heeseung asks, nodding toward the younger boys. You look back. Jungwon and Ni-ki are already walking toward the fountain, already finding their way toward something new. "I think," you say, "they're about to find out." Jake squeezes your hand. "Let's go home." You walk together, the three of you, out of the campus, out of the years you've spent here, into whatever comes next.

a/n: omgg if u made it this far tysm for reading I hope u enjoyed the fic and will enjoy my future works. no frl tho thank u if u made it this far ily

[jaehyp]

TAGLIST 3: @katishot147 @yumi-yearns @i4tzy @k1ttyjwon @daydreamqueenjaycee @soraokkotsu @ravenslocked @toosensitiveforinternet @klowiishere @baedreamverse @t1nywoniee @gordazepam @nerdjocrazyy @irohah @heeseungsgf26 @noturresponsibility

sorry if i tagged u and it didn't work!!

[novasora]

: TEXTS W CHRONICALLY OFFLINE HEESEUNG ( 희승 ) . . . ✦ ݁˖ 🦌

chronicallyofflinebf!heeseung x chroniacllyonlinegf!reader . cursing . slightly suggestive .

this one’s pretty short, i’m really running out of ideas 😓

@yxnkiexe @shaiimuraaa @acute4ngel @kookiieeswirl

[cutehoons02]

My pay boyfriend! (PREVIEW)

*pairing: pervy pay-boy Jake x fashion stylist Girl

*trope: Fake dating to lovers/golden retriever-black cat Energy

*synopsis: What would happen if your older sister got married on a private island in Thailand, but among the guests appears the name of your long-time ex, who was also your only boyfriend? A disaster, right? But for months now, one of the most popular apps among young people had been "My Pay Boyfriend," an app where you could hire guys to be your "fake boyfriends." But what would happen when you match with Jake Sim, a guy who seems perfect for your two weeks in Thailand, only for what was fake to slowly, day by day, become more and more real for both of you...

1: the app I didn't have to download

The soft glow of early spring sunlight flooded Jake’s room, golden light filtering through the curtains that swayed gently in the breeze. The sweet scent of blooming sakura mingled with the fresh smell of laundry he had just hung out to dry. Jake sat at his desk, his fingers restless as they tugged and ruffled his dark hair every few seconds, as if the motion could somehow soothe his racing mind. But there was nothing calm about him, especially not his eyes, which were glued to the business plan spread across his laptop screen. Every penny he had earned from his university bar job and tutoring sessions was accounted for, underlined, and analyzed down to the smallest detail. Yet the numbers didn’t lie: he was still short—very short.

"Three months until graduation, and then what? The master’s program..." he muttered under his breath. The truth was, Jake had told a little white lie to the admissions office of his future university—that he had a trust fund in his name but the reality was, the fund would only be unlocked once he had his degree in hand. He had bought himself some time, especially since he had ranked second on the admission list, but there was a catch: no scholarship was included. His dream, a master’s in biomedical engineering, specializing in robotic prosthetics for animals, something he had wanted since he was a child—was inching closer to its deadline, yet it felt further away than ever. Despite his parents’ sacrifices, who paid his tuition and had always supported his dream, money was the issue. Those who had it often wasted it on frivolous things, while those who needed it—like him—had to bust their asses to get it. Just like his roommate, Jay, is one of his best friends.

Jay was the golden boy of a family that hoped to see him take over their thriving tourism business in Korea. Instead, Jay had rebelliously chosen psychology and spent his days composing songs for agencies like JYP or HYBE, because deep down, he was an artist, not an entrepreneur. And right now, Jay was there, lounging on the bean bag by the window with a guitar in his hands, a guitar that probably cost more than Jake’s entire tuition.

"You should be studying psychology, not playing music," Jake grumbled, but Jay, of course, wasn’t studying. Jay always did whatever he wanted, and why wouldn’t he? He didn’t have money problems. If music didn’t work out, he had his dad’s agency to fall back on, and eventually, he’d have a psychology degree in hand, too. Jake shuddered at the thought of Jay advising people.

"I’ll never make it," Jake said out loud, more to himself than to the other two guys in his room. "After graduation, I won’t be able to enroll in the master’s program on time if I keep working at the bar and giving tutoring lessons like some average student... I need a job that actually pays well, not these measly gigs that barely keep me afloat." His voice was thick with frustration, and Jay looked up from his guitar, eyebrows slightly raised, as if he’d heard this complaint a thousand times before. His gaze shifted to Sunghoon, who was sitting on the couch with a warm cup of tea, carefully reviewing yet another contract from his modeling agency.

"Well, you could always become a gigolo," Jay said with a smirk, his voice laced with the frustration he always hid behind a joking tone. "Older women go crazy for a young, handsome guy with a puppy-dog face like yours. Honestly, you could exploit that golden retriever charm of yours a lot more."

Jake shot Jay a look that could’ve killed him on the spot, feeling his cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"Never in a million years," Jake groaned. "I’m not selling myself in Hongdae or anywhere else...to be some woman’s toy for a night. I’m an engineer. I’m studying hard to build a decent career and save money because, eventually, I want to buy a house and start a family."

Sunghoon, who had been silent until now, nearly spat out his drink laughing as he listened to another one of Jake and Jay’s friendly arguments.

"Oh my God, Jake, don’t be so dramatic," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I actually have a suggestion... A friend of mine—no, wait, a friend of my sister’s—used this app called ‘My Pay Boyfriend.’ It’s only for Gen Z guys who sign up to be fake boyfriends. Like, accompanying girls to weddings, events, stuff like that, you know how judgmental our society is toward women, especially those who don’t have a ‘boyfriend’... You could try signing up. They might not accept you, but obviously, you’d have to post some cute photos, like the ones with Layla in Australia, or the ones we take of you when you’re not looking. You’ll see how many requests you’ll get."He took a sip of his tea, and Jake stared at him as if he’d just suggested selling a kidney.

"What are you even saying, Sunghoon?" Jake exclaimed, his voice cracking between shock and indignation. "Are you serious? I expected this kind of suggestion from Jay, not from you... Me, on an app like that? And fake boyfriend? What the hell kind of job is that?" Jake jabbed a finger at his own chest, his expression a mix of disbelief and outrage.

Jay, on the other hand, seemed to light up at the idea. With effortless nonchalance, he rose from the bean bag in one fluid motion, casually setting his guitar aside on the couch.

"Oh my God, yes! Seoul is covered in billboards for this app!" Jay exclaimed, phone in hand. "'My Pay Boyfriend'... Jake, this app has been topping the Korean charts for weeks, and everyone on TikTok is raving about it! It’s perfect for you—they’ll accept you right away. You’re a student, you’ve got that wholesome good-boy look, and with Layla? You melt hearts everywhere. Just post a couple of photos, write a few lines about how sweet and protective you are, and boom, you’re in, bro. The only catch is hoping they approve you, because within 24 hours, their experts and AI review your profile to see if you match even 1% of what the girls are looking for."

Jake shot to his feet, reaching for Jay’s phone. "Jay, stop, don’t download that crap on my phone!" he nearly shouted in panic, but Jay was too quick. In seconds, the app was downloaded, installed, and open.

"Come on, Jake, don’t be such a boomer," Jay said, dodging Jake’s attempt to snatch the phone back. "Look, it’s easy! You sign up, post a couple of pics, say you’re available for events, and bam! Easy money. You don’t even have to kiss anyone unless you set your preferences to include kissing and then they pay you more!" Jay grinned mischievously, and Jake buried his face in his hands. Sunghoon leaned back on the couch, laughing.

"Admit it, Jake, it’s a good idea," Sunghoon said. "And really, what’s the harm? It’s just a temporary gig until you get into your master’s program, right? You’ve got what, less than three months? Then you delete it, and it’s like it never happened."

Jake opened his mouth to argue, but the words died in his throat when he saw his phone already open to the app’s registration page. Jay was filling out the profile for him:

Name: Jake Sim

Age: 23

Mechanical engineering student

Available for: Event, party, fake boyfriend, emotional support

Rate: Negotiable

Jay read it aloud, as if presenting a résumé to a Fortune 500 company, while Jake flailed in despair and Sunghoon smirked.

"See? Easy," Jay said, giving him a triumphant look, as if he’d just solved the global economic crisis. "Now all you have to do is upload a couple of photos, wait 24 hours, and if your profile gets approved, you’re set. Easy money."

Jake shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. He already knew this was the beginning of a preordained disaster. But deep down... what did he really have to lose? Nothing. In fact, if someone requested him, he’d make "easy money" without complications. And let’s be honest—he knew he was good-looking...

24 hours later

The trio was sprawled across the couch, with Jake in the middle, legs spread and his laptop balanced on his knees. His eyes were glued to the screen as if he were waiting for the results of the most important exam of his life. Meanwhile, Sunghoon, holding a now-cold cup of tea, counted down aloud: "Ten… nine… eight…"

Jake wanted to clap a hand over his mouth, but he was too tense to move. He shot Sunghoon a glare, who fell silent—until the little green checkmark appeared, signaling Jake’s approval. He had been accepted and could now start filling out his profile. Jay leaped to his feet as if he’d just won the lottery.

"I TOLD YOU!" he shouted, jabbing a finger at Jake, who shook his head. Deep down, he had hoped he wouldn’t be accepted.

"Jake, you were born for this app! I bet in a couple of months, you’ll forget why you even downloaded it because you’ll be too busy counting the easy money you’ve made!"

Jake lowered his gaze, his fingers trembling slightly as he clicked on his profile. The algorithm had already given him 4.0 out of 5 stars—not bad at all, considering he hadn’t even uploaded a bio or listed his preferences yet. Sunghoon whistled, nudging his elbow.

"See? I told you! With that puppy-dog face, you’re a guaranteed hit on this app."

Jake clicked on the "Photos" section and saw that Jay had already uploaded two:

One where he was slightly sweaty, his shirt lifted post-soccer practice, revealing the faint outline of his V-line, his hair tousled, cheeks flushed from the heat, and his gaze slightly unfocused.

The other was a stolen selfie from Sunghoon on a New York rooftop, where Jake looked into the camera with his lips slightly parted and a distant, dreamy expression.

Jake sighed, running a hand through his hair as he muttered, "I need to add three more." He scrolled through his photo folder until Jay made him jump.

"This one!" Jay pointed to a photo of Jake on a Brisbane beach, with Layla leaping onto him, sand clinging to his shorts, and the most genuine smile he’d ever worn. It radiated both calmness and good-boy vibes.

Jake uploaded it, then scrolled until he found another: him holding a guitar, eyes closed, humming something. Jay gave a thumbs-up. "Girls love it when guys show off their hobbies… especially if it’s music. Trust me, I know a thing or two."

Sunghoon nodded, pointing to another photo: Jake with a face mask on, doing skincare. "This one’s gold. Girls dream of a guy who does skincare with them, it’s something a lot of couples do for fun, taking silly photos together."

Jake’s cheeks flushed slightly, but he uploaded that one too. Now, all that was left was the description. He agonized over it for nearly half an hour,typing, deleting, retyping until finally, he wrote:

"Hi there! I’m Jake—born in Korea but raised in Australia until I was 18, then I moved back to Korea for my studies.

I’ve got a golden retriever named Layla, and she’s basically my daughter. We spend a lot of time together, especially on long walks by the Han River.

I’m studying mechanical engineering, but my real passion is animals (you might’ve guessed that already;). My dream is to become one of the first doctors specializing in robotic prosthetics for them, to help give them a better life.

I’m a pretty chill guy. I love ramen (especially spicy), go to bed early (yes, I’m 23, but my body shuts down like a 60-year-old’s after 10 minutes of being awake past 10 PM), and adore nature. I enjoy being outdoors but not with too many people around. When I need to unwind, I build LEGO or rewatch Spider-Man movies (yes, I’m a nerd, and honestly? I’m proud of it).

I’m easygoing, always happy to help anyone in need, and I refuse to kill even a spider (so yeah, I’m a softie). I might seem shy at first, but once I warm up, I turn into a total goofball—and I get attached way too easily. Oh, and I love physical affection (hugs, shoulder pats, you name it).

If you’re looking for someone to make you laugh, support you, and keep you company for a few fun hours (or days!), I’m your perfect guy!"

As soon as Jake finished writing his description, Jay and Sunghoon leaned over the laptop like vultures over prey. Jay read the last sentence aloud, wrinkling his nose dramatically, as if the description had been written by a teenager rather than someone trying to attract as many girls as possible.

"'I love physical affection'?" Jay repeated, teasing him lightly. "Jake, you sound a little like a loser in this description. Girls want something fiery and sinful in these situations, not a guy who says he loves going to bed before 10 PM!"

On the other side, Sunghoon laughed, leaning back against the couch because he didn’t agree with Jay at all (as usual). "I think this description is perfect. At least it’s honest, and deep down, girls who seem cold or shy prefer a guy who isn’t afraid to admit he’s clingy and cute with them."

Jake gestured with his hands and said Sunghoon was right—that if a girl was desperate enough to need a fake boyfriend for a few hours or days, she’d be fine with a clingy, affectionate guy.

Sunghoon ignored the little squabble between Jay and Jake and pulled the laptop closer, seriously examining the app’s options. He pushed his glasses up a bit and said, "Now be quiet—this is the most important part." He pointed at Jake with a theatrical gesture. "Now that our subject has shared his best photos and written a great description to attract as much female attention as possible, he can select what he’s willing to do and what he’s not."

Jake fidgeted slightly and leaned in too. Sunghoon began speaking seriously:

"Can the fake boyfriend hug the girl?" Jake nodded without hesitation. "Yes, that’s fine." So Sunghoon clicked the first option.

"Can the fake boyfriend be seen in public being friendly but clingy with his girlfriend?" Jake thought for a second, then shrugged. "Well, yeah, that’s part of the role, right?" So Sunghoon clicked "Yes" again.

"Can the fake boyfriend kiss the girl?" Here, Sunghoon paused and looked at Jake with a raised eyebrow. Jay, however, leaned forward and said to Jake, "Hey, you’re not obligated, Jake. If you don’t want to, don’t do it. But you know there’s extra money..."

Jake crossed his arms, thinking about kissing strangers randomly made him a little hesitant—but how much extra money were we talking about for kisses on this app?

"How much extra do I get if I have to kiss the girl?" he asked Sunghoon, who scrolled through the options with a smirk.

"Let’s see... a peck on the lips: 10 euros. A normal kiss: 15 euros. A kiss with tongue: 25 euros." He chuckled, and Jay brought his hands to his mouth, eyes wide.

"Holy crap... that’s actually good pay." He was shocked.

Jake thought for a second, then nodded. "Alright, leave all the options."

Sunghoon went to click, but suddenly stopped—there weren’t just kissing options, but some slightly more risqué ones too. He coughed lightly, adopting an expression that said, "I’m about to say something serious but also awkward."

"The subject in question has the freedom to choose whether or not he wants to engage in... physical and sexual acts with his fake girlfriend, but he’ll have to send recent medical reports to prove he’s disease-free."

Jake felt his ears turn red, and Jay’s mouth dropped open—none of the three had expected such a request. "What?" Jake exclaimed, his ears burning. "I’m not sleeping with a stranger! Are we insane?"

Jay chuckled while Sunghoon continued scrolling the screen with an innocent yet curious look. "Do you want to know how much they’d pay you if..."

Jake covered his ears with his hands, as if that could block out the words. "I don’t want to know, because I’m not doing it. And even if I were..." Sunghoon suddenly turned with furrowed brows.

"Hey, he didn’t say no!" Jay said, pointing at Jake. "'Even if I were' isn’t a total no."

Jake grabbed a pillow and pressed it against his face, yelling something incomprehensible while the other two burst into laughter. Sunghoon, wiping tears from his eyes, said, "Relax, you can select these options yourself when you meet your first... sugar mummy!"

Jake lowered the pillow and stared at him, eyes wide and mouth agape in shock at hearing those words from Sunghoon. "Sugar mummy?" Then he noticed the "Age Range" category and furiously clicked: 20-25 years. "I don’t want a mummy—I want someone my age, and not something embarrassing." He groaned slightly, and Sunghoon raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, calm down... I was just joking." But his eyes landed on Jay, who was shaking his head, and Jake gave him a light punch on the shoulder. "It’s not funny. This is going to lead me down a bad path and into drama I don’t want to be part of."

Jake double-checked his profile for the hundredth time before finally publishing everything. Then he snapped the laptop shut and looked at his two best friends. "That’s enough. If it works, it works. If not, I’ll delete everything and go back to being a bartender. Now, let’s go get some fried chicken and a good beer."

hey:) how are you? After a couple of weeks I'm back and I hope you enjoy this preview of this story🤍

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