hi everyone! since a lot of people asked, i decided to put together a list of some of my favorite heeseung fics on tumblr ♡ all credits go to the amazing writers — note: some fics contain 18+ content and heavier themes. please read all warnings carefully before reading.
࣪ ִֶָ☾.
90 days of pleasure - @ham-st4r
coffee & cream - @ham-st4r
cumming of age - @enhaflixer
don’t leave again - @lovelee-evan
girlfriend simulator - @heejamas
hopeless - @star-sim
i don't want to be your roommate, i want to kiss your neck ⤷ @taeghi
i hate you - @ikeuverse
kiss me, he’s watching - @enhaflixer
know me - @junsfriend
nothing safe is worth the drive - @calumcxke
operation: how not to get the girl - @heesmiles
player rank: platinum - @simpjaes
pool party - @prod-ddeonu
siren sounds - @i2sunric
sky's the limit - @chenfleur
the brother's best friend trope - @taeghi
you plus me - @paarksunghoon
“just sit on my lap, it’ll be fine” - @jwonsite
࣪ ִֶָ☾.
H.M : ATTRACTION GAME - (on wattpad)⟶this one is so peak you need to read it! highly recommended & my fav heeseung fic...
▸ minors do not interact
▸ likes do not help writers. please reblog and leave feedback on my work.
hyung line drabbles/mtl m.list
PLAYER RANK: PLATINUM | (ao3) - 30k ― HEESEUNG CENTRIC
You’re not sure what’s worse, your sister’s boyfriend or your sister’s boyfriend’s friends. What you thought would be a great deal in living with her throughout college turns into a major game of cat and mouse, where you’re unsure if your moral compass is pointing in the right direction solely because you suspect someone is wearing a giant sex magnet to throw it off.
jake hard thought m.list
dtf. - 7.4K
ao3 | wattpad
the one where jay is a super cocky rich neighbor who really, really doesn’t care if jake, your husband, knows how badly he wants to not just fuck you, but both of you. The only thing better than one brat to jay just so happens to be two brats.
exhibition - 4.9k
ao3 | wattpad
the one where your roommate flaunts his secret job at you, not thinking you’d go out and search for him. And definitely not thinking you’d be getting off to him either.
666 - 4.8k
When does an interest in the supernatural become unnatural? You’d say right around the time a spirit told you to write his name with your own….body fluids
SWEET LITTLE MONEY MAKER. | (ao3) - 13.6K
the one where you’re very much an “i don’t need a man” type of person, and jake shows you that you do, in fact, need a man….him, you specifically need him. only because he needs you.
REALISTIC EXPECTATIONS (ft. sunghoon) | (ao3) - 8.9k
the one where you made a bad decision in fooling around with your step-brother during your early college days and he refuses to let you put an end to it.
CUNNILINGUIST (ft. sunghoon) | (ao3) - 16.1 k
the one where your best friend jake eats you out as a way to admit his own feelings for you, also, apparently sunghoon existing is an issue.
HYPER-SEXUAL | (ao3) - 13.8k
If there’s anything in life that Jake wants, it’s to fuck. All day, every day, it’s on his mind. He fantasizes constantly, watches porn every free chance he gets, and ultimately has grown bored of his own hand to satiate his need.
FRENZY | (ao3) - 33k total
FRENZY PART TWO - 14.2k total
Jake is experiencing real love for the first time in his life. He’s so infatuated with you that he would do anything to make you understand. And you? Oh, you are in no place to argue with a man who appears to be perfect.
PAID IN & PAID OFF (ft. jay) | (ao3) - 30k
Jay made the mistake of paying his best friend to date you, it was a big mistake. He only did it to get you away from a different man who wasn’t treating you right, and because he couldn’t do it himself. The fact that his best friend breaks the rules and decides to catch feelings drives him up a fucking wall. Why? Because Jake should know better than to go as far as sleeping with his girl, or rather...erm, his step-sister.
SIMP | (ao3) - 5.6k
men are liars. especially, jake sim, some guy you met once at a party and now only know through text messages. he makes promises he can’t keep but it’s mostly because he likes to hide that he’s more desperate than you are to get his dick wet.
DESECRATION | (ao3) - 6.4k
the one where no gods exist when you’re alone with jake sim.
EROTIC EMPATHY | (ao3) - 12.7K
the one where jake has a streak of bad luck in bed and his friends make fun of him for it, you find him advertising his virginity on a dating app and decide to help him out.
SHARING = CARING (ft. jay) - 1.2k
the one where jake tries to jerk it while his roommate is sleeping and jay just wants him to share a lil bit of what he has hidden under his pillow
BIG DICK FOR DUMMIES | (ao3)- 2.4k
The one where you find out that your boyfriend has a huge cock and you’re not entirely sure if you can take all of it.
SERIAL-SWEETHEART (ft. sunghoon) (ao3)- 23.6k
Dating the strict, well-liked, and loving Sunghoon came with its hurdles. Normally, the two of you could communicate and work through the downsides, but what if the newest downside of the relationship is learning that his little brother, Jake, has a bit of a thing for you?
TAKE THE BACK-SEAT (ft.jay) (ao3) - 8.5k
TAKE THE BACK-SEAT PART TWO (ft.jay) (ao3) - 14.3k
the one where jay lets jake watch him get his dick wet.
jay hard thought m.list
Every bit of you. - 8.3k
ao3 | wattpad
the one where Jay is enamored and doesn’t mind reminding you that there’s nothing about you that will stop him from falling harder every day.
DTF. - 7.4K
the one where jay is a super cocky rich neighbor who really, really doesn’t care if jake, your husband, knows how badly he wants to not just fuck you, but both of you. The only thing better than one brat to jay just so happens to be two brats.
FONTMAN AGENDA - 6.2k
ao3 | wattpad
the one where you and Jay were highschool sweethearts, years after the break up, he’s suddenly seeing you in the crowd at his first ever sold out show.
DON'T CARE, DIDN'T ASK. - 1.7k
ao3 | wattpad
the one where you literally have no brains and didn’t see the bright red flags jay gave off before you effectively let him get you under lock and key. He’s possessive, jealous, and over all not at all what he pretends to be when he’s out in public.
PERVERT - 2.8k
Or the one where Jay is slightly obsessed with his daughter’s best friend.
WIFE MATERIAL - 1.1k
the one where you're kind of a bimbo and a virgin, arranged to marry jay.
MILF HUNT! | (ao3) - 18.9K
the one where Jay was the pain-in-your-ass son of the family you used to babysit for, but now he’s making it his mission to be the pain-in-your-ass pretend husband that you never asked for, but very clearly need.
BOOK SMART? P*SSY SMART. - 10k
The one where Jay basically lives in the university library and you live in any and every party you can find on campus. Unfortunately, your grades are suffering over it and you need help. You’re quite lucky though because Jay is quite helpful.
HAPPY HOTWIFING (ft. sunghoon) | (ao3) - 18.9k
the one where your husband, jongseong, fucks you in front of the window to help the neighbor get off and then said neighbor shows up at the door a week later.
PAID IN & PAID OFF (ft. jake) | (ao3) - 30k
Jay made the mistake of paying his best friend to date you, it was a big mistake. He only did it to get you away from a different man who wasn’t treating you right, and because he couldn’t do it himself. The fact that his best friend breaks the rules and decides to catch feelings drives him up a fucking wall. Why? Because Jake should know better than to go as far as sleeping with his girl, or rather...erm, his step-sister.
RENAISSANCE MAN (ao3) - 14.6k
the one where jay is a dildo salesman, a caterer, a self-titled mechanic, and also your ride home. he is not an expert in any of his jobs, but he sure is an expert in wit and well, other things.
HARD CASH, EASY MONEY - 5.4k
Jay is rich-rich and likes to frequent the strip club you dance at. You know regulars tend to have their favorite dancers, but to become his favorite? Oh, well….you knew he’d rent out a private room sooner or later.
TAKE THE BACK-SEAT (ft.jake) (ao3) - 8.5k
TAKE THE BACK-SEAT PART TWO (ft.jake) (ao3) - 14.3k
the one where jay lets jake watch him get his dick wet.
SHARING = CARING (ft. jake) - 1.2k
the one where jake tries to jerk it while his roommate is sleeping and jay just wants him to share a lil bit of what he has hidden under his pillow
(NOT) STRICTLY BUSINESS - 1.7k
Jay walks, talks, and fucks in business mode.
UNTITLED (ft. sunghoon) - 1.4k
the one where jay and sunghoon share a pocketpussy in the name of you.
SO SWEET - 3.8k
The one where Jay, in all of his cherry-flavored thoughts, makes you cherry flavored too.
WRONG BROTHER (ft. sunghoon)
the one where jay and sunghoon are brothers and you accidentally send nudes to the wrong brother.
sunghoon hard thought m.list
DEVIANT - 6.1k
the one where sunghoon is a gooner weirdo who jerks off at you via discord. you start to feel a bit gross about it, ghosting him just a day or so later only to realize that you really should used that 50% off code from that one youtuber you watch, because a vpn provider could have prevented the way he just…fucking shows up at your house?
UNTITLED (ft. jay) - 1.4k
the one where jay and sunghoon share a pocketpussy in the name of you.
HAPPY HOTWIFING (ft. jay) | (ao3)- 18.9k
the one where your husband, jongseong, fucks you in front of the window to help the neighbor get off and then said neighbor shows up at the door a week later.
DESPERATE - 1.9k
the one where sunghoon just wants a sliver of that pussy pleeeeease
NIGHT-SHIFT | (ao3) - 4.5k
DAY-SHIFT - 14.5k
the one where you pay for a one on one call with a faceless cam guy you’ve been watching for a little while, and the next day your boss is avoiding you like the plague.
ONE OF THE DAMNED GIRLS | (ao3) - 20.4k
ONE OF THE DAMNED GIRLS PT. 2- 21.8k
Moving to a city with wild nights and charming days felt like the perfect choice in your head upon finishing college. Hours away from home, you accept a job at a local museum ironically placed dead between a large historic cathedral and a booming gothic nightclub. You were meant to curate the art, not be curated yourself by a local priest who found you with buckled knees outside of said goth club.
FIRST DATE ETIQUETTE | (ao3) - 9.3k
Park Sunghoon is not dull, nor is he the clean cut neighbor your mother thinks he is. Oh, the horrors of if she found out that the man she set you up on this date with immediately took you home and rendered you unable to walk? He'd never be able to defend himself without a swift slap to the head.
heeseung hard thought m.list
COLOR CODED - 8.9k | (ao3) (wattpad)
the one where you join a kink website and a specific dom’s profile catches your attention enough to actually meet him at a hotel and practically ignore your safe words bc man, he’s good.
PLAYER RANK: PLATINUM | (ao3) - 30k
You’re not sure what’s worse, your sister’s boyfriend or your sister’s boyfriend’s friends. What you thought would be a great deal in living with her throughout college turns into a major game of cat and mouse, where you’re unsure if your moral compass is pointing in the right direction solely because you suspect someone is wearing a giant sex magnet to throw it off.
PROVOKED - 2.3k
the one where heeseung uses your body as an outlet because he had a shitty day.
You’re not sure what’s worse, your sister’s boyfriend or your sister’s boyfriend’s friends. What you thought would be a great deal in living with her throughout college turns into a major game of cat and mouse, where you’re unsure if your moral compass is pointing in the right direction solely because you suspect someone is wearing a giant sex magnet to throw it off.
៸៸៸ minors do not interact!
៸៸៸ simp gamer ! lee heeseung x afab reader
៸៸៸ wc: 30k
៸៸៸ tags: smut, sister’s boyfriend trope, exhibitionism and voyeurism, dom heeseung, he is also unemployed lol, gaming antics, discord streaming, sexting, sex bets, shameless behavior, food mentions, alcohol use, implied sickness due to said alcohol, jake, sunghoon, and jay as the gamer friends who have a bet going. also the guys who get to watch….kind of.
៸៸៸ !WARNINGS!: cheating/infidelity, dubcon-ish at one instance, heeseung is mean and manipulative. instances where jake, jay, and sunghoon take advantage of a situation where reader is drunk (conversation based), the reader can be lifted, visibly marked, has hair that can have fingers ran through it, and blushes visibly.
៸៸៸ a/n: this fic was written for heeseung's gf @drunkhazed! i really loved the idea, as you can see, i kind of went crazy with it. i hope it lives up to your imagination but maybe not idk. you better love it anyway oomfie, bc i loved writing it for u. this fic was briefly edited but likely still has a million typos and grammar errors.
៸៸៸ nsfw tags below
៸៸៸ nsfw tags: 10” heeseung, dubcon-ish at one instance, masturbation, pillow humping, cum eating, degradation, hentai watching, sexting, sex on camera, blow job, voyeurism, exhibitionism, deep penetration, cream pie, breeding, blood and spit, one mention of piss but no actual piss (form of degradation), fingers down your throat.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Walking into an empty room has never felt so freeing, especially in knowing this is your space. Safe from your parents, bare and ready to be adorned with all of the things you hold dear to you. What’s even better? It’s bigger than your room back home, and you even have a little attached bathroom of your own.
Life is great. You think studying here will ease your mind and allow you to graduate top of your class by the time it’s all over and done with. If you could kiss your sister, you would, really.
You remember being kids and the two of you promising that when you grow up, you’d live together and never grow apart. After actually growing up though, she finished her degree and went off on her own, leaving you by yourself with no one to get you through the hardships of becoming a college student yourself.
With her working full time for several years and you struggling your own way to the top, she really did follow through with that young childhood promise.
“Why don’t you come live with me through college? I’m sure it would be easier than living with all those rules.”
You didn’t even think twice and had your bags packed a single day after the invitation. You stayed up all night getting it done, emptying your childhood room filled with both good and bad memories. Alas, you did have to wait until the spring semester was over though. Thankfully, you were only sleeping in a packed up room for about a week.
You find yourself here now, with your sister lovingly making lunch in the kitchen while her boyfriend, who you have only met briefly at holiday gatherings, stays in the office-turned-gaming room hooting and howling over some game he’s playing.
“Don’t mind him.” She half-smiles when he doesn’t immediately head for the kitchen, making her own plate and moving to the table with a sense of annoyance. “He’ll be out in a bit, it’s a pretty normal occurrence.”
“You don’t think it’s rude?” You furrow your brows now, automatically assuming that your sister deserves a man willing to work just as much as she does. Still, you don’t entirely mind that you weren’t forced into an official meeting of the man of the house first thing when you walked in.
“Nah, not really. Been dating him for years, I knew what I signed up for when I moved him in.” She smiles while shaking her head, seemingly accepting all of his positives and negatives.
“Does he not have a job?” You pry, picking at your plate and trying to memorize his actual name because for a little while, you really started to wonder if his name was just a variation of “honey” and “babe”. Thankfully not.
“He’s looking for one.” She says, looking at you and trying to read your judgment. “Before you say anything, he has money. Or–well, his parent’s have money. They pay his half of the rent right now.”
You shrug, noting that she really does seem happy and you’d be the best person to judge her level of fulfillment outside of herself anyway. You trust that she picked the right man, even if he’s still screaming in the other room with an empty stomach.
“By the way…” She says with a wicked smile, one that you remember growing up with. The other end of that smile always ends with some sort of…antic. “We’re throwing you a welcome party this weekend. Inviting all of our friends too, so it’s easier for you to start being social on this side of town.”
You would groan, but growing up in your childhood home with your parents never came with parties. No birthdays at home, no sleepovers, nothing. Hell, they wouldn’t even allow you to attend other parties as a child, and going to college parties was out of the question.
The only party you ever attended was during the time you snuck out. They made damn sure you never snuck out again after that mishap as well.
“Oh, really?” You chew and speak at the same time, not minding your manners at all considering you can get away with it now. “Is there gonna be alcohol?”
“Oh, yes, yes.” She smiles again. “Gonna give you a proper party since, you know.”
You nod to her and you both laugh together at the found freedom you share, and then, well, the king of screaming like a toddler walks in. His hair looks like shit, an indent at the top of the messy locks indicating that he must have had his headset on for a long fucking time. Loose shirt with the sleeves pushed up, eyes sleepy and red, probably burning from the sunlight coming through the windows, and some sort of smile on his face. He looks at his girlfriend with that tired smile, about to thank her for the meal, then his eyes trail to you.
“Oh fuck–” His hands raise to run his fingers through his hair, then both rest on the back of his neck as he lets out a big sigh. “Was that today?”
You give him the side eye of all side eyes at this moment. Reminding yourself how you and your sister spent all morning hauling your stuff in without his help. She also did say he would have put together your desk, dresser, shelf, and bed frame by the time you got here. Well, he didn’t.
“Yep.” She pops the p on the end of her word indicating passive aggressive annoyance.
“Shit.” He mumbles under his breath, placing his empty plate right back into the cupboard and making his way to your room. “I’ll do it now. I’m sorry babe.”
Your sister nods triumphantly, watching your look of surprise in reaction to the way he instantly appears to fix his mistake without more than a single word from her.
“He knows when he fucks up. He was supposed to do it yesterday but as you can see, he hasn’t left his PC since like, nine o’ clock last night.” She shrugs.
You laugh, furrowing your brow at her.
“I really didn’t expect him to be so lazy, sis, I always figured you’d be dating a doctor or something.”
She brushes off her shoulders with a proud look, leaning towards you with a smile.
“He was working a really good job but I could see how unhappy he was. I’m giving him a year or two to figure himself out. He’s been back and forth trying new things, hasn’t quite landed on anything he likes yet though.”
She is a fucking saint. Honestly, Heeseung might be the luckiest man in the world to have a woman willing to do such a thing for him.
“Woah,” You start, taking a sip of your water. “He’s trying to make it as a streamer right now, I take it?”
She shakes her head with an eye roll.
“Not really, he’s just always spent as much free time as possible playing but, I trust that he’ll figure something out sooner rather than later.”
And you pry for a while longer. Learning about all of the things your sister and Heeseung do together, learning about her friends and his friends, the rules of the house, and the not-rules of the house. For instance, you’re allowed to bring home hook-ups or dates if you give a fair warning so she doesn’t have to hear it. However, the food in the fridge is for the house occupants only, and people need to ask before opening the cupboards and filling their plates. Of course, unless there is a party.
Another rule, which was a bit too much information but you figure it’s fair since everyone here is an adult. She and Heeseung apparently have a pretty active sex life and apologized in advance for some of the things you may end up hearing. She also noted that there will be ear plugs if you need them, but that she suggests throwing on some headphones and ignoring it. Fair enough, it’s her house anyway.
And after a few hours pass, Heeseung makes his way out of your room with a smile on his face. You remember seeing him maybe two or three times during the holidays but he never mingled with you. He never mingled with anyone, actually. He tended to keep to himself, with his loose fitting outfits always sticking out in the awkward family photos that your sister would sneak him into. That’s all you can really recall about him.
It is kind of strange seeing him in his natural habitat of your sister’s house. Already, you’ve seen more personality in him than you ever did during the brief meetings. It’s kind of nice to see him proudly nodding his head to your bedroom as if to invite you in properly like he should have done hours ago when you arrived. He took it upon himself to rearrange the room for maximum space. Arguably, you’re impressed.
“I unpacked some of your things too.” He comments as he hugs your sister from behind in the doorway. “Needed to make sure the dresser drawers wouldn’t cave in.”
Your eyes trail to the pretty dresser, painted white with even prettier trim on it. It’s the first time you’ve ever had a matching bedroom set. You head over and take a peek in the drawers, noting that he didn’t just haphazardly throw your clothes in there.
Top drawer, all of your undergarments are fucking folded. Second drawer, socks, tights, and leggings, third drawer, soft pajama sets also folded. And the fourth drawer remains empty.
You turn to look at him, embarrassed by the fact that he took it upon himself to do that. You can’t see a single shred of embarrassment in his own face though, and it appears he really was just being nice.
“Don’t be embarrassed. I do the laundry here so I’ll be folding those more often than you’d think.” He smiles, and your sister lends a chuckle.
“He’s gotta do something while I’m making most of the money.” She shrugs, totally fine with the fact that her boyfriend just handled every piece of underwear you own save for the ones you’re wearing.
“Closet too, hung up what I could but I’m like, really hungry so I figured I could leave the rest to you.”
You nod in appreciation, in awe of your new room and the soft, plush carpet on your floor. Your old room was hard wood with dust filled corners, it felt cold. Here though? You feel welcomed, warm, and cozy.
Hundreds of ideas flood your mind about how you want to decorate the room and as you go to start unpacking your miscellaneous items, your sister nods and backs out of the room with her boyfriend still hugging her from behind.
There, you’re left to your own devices.
Another thought crosses your mind when you hear the door close as well. The fact that you haven’t had a door to close for your bedroom since you snuck out all those years ago. The sound felt like music to your ears as you found yourself falling back on the bare mattress with a deep and relieved sigh.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
With all of the unpacking, wall art compositions, and napping in between, the week flew by quicker than you anticipated.
Waking up today, at half past two in the afternoon felt so good. Your duvet felt crispy, your room was completed and finally your own, and it felt safe. You could smell the breakfast cooking in the kitchen, and your sister’s voice paired with Heeseung ringing fondly at each other.
Little bit strange that you didn’t wake up to silence in the house, considering Heeseung is usually just now heading to sleep with that fucked up sleep schedule and your sister is normally lounging in the living room with a snack, iced coffee, and watching her favorite reality shows. Save for when she’s at work all day, of course.
Still, you slowly pull yourself out of bed feeling happy and refreshed, stepping into your attached bathroom to do your morning routine before exiting the room, and then heading into the kitchen with a small “good morning.”
“It’s nearly three in the afternoon.” Your sister smiles at you. “But good morning to you too sis.”
Heeseung, seemingly dressed for the day with a band tee and a beanie on, lends you a glance and a wave as he swings back and forth in the kitchen, mixing pancake batter in a bowl for your sister and unaware of the speckle of said batter stuck in a strand of his hair.
You lean over your sister’s shoulder after waving back to him, noting how she’s making little bite-sized pieces of pancake. Ah, this is the life, really.
“Well? Don’t just stand there? Pour some juice or something. We need a big meal before tonight.” Your sister laughs at your sleepy content hum from behind her, noting how you act much like she did when she first got out of the childhood home.
You take a step back, eyeing the room, trying to put the puzzle pieces together as to why Heeseung is awake and dressed and why she’s making a big meal to begin with. Both your sister and Heeseung note the confusion on your face.
“Ah, she forgot.” He rumbles with a smirk, not keeping his eyes on you for too long as his focus falls back to mixing.
“Did you really forget?” Your sister rolls her eyes with a spatula in hand, turning to you and putting her other hand on her hip. “Everyone seems excited to meet you, they’ll probably start pouring in around six or seven tonight.”
“Oh, right! The party!” You exclaim, shocked that you really did forget about it. With your sister’s promise of alcohol, you assume that explains the large breakfast, and also probably why Heeseung doesn’t look like a total slob.
“Yeah, the party.” Heeseung snickers, his back turned away from you but overall acting as if you’ve already lived here for months. Throwing the same sarcasm at you that your sister does.
“Now go pour some juice, we have to go to the store after this and pick out drinks.” Your sister finally says, turning back to flip the pancakes in the pan. “You have drank since I moved out, right? You never wanted to try anything with me back then.”
You reluctantly nod your head, and your sister gasps fondly.
“Someone got into the liquor cabinet?”
You nod with a laugh, knowing that you learned how to do it from her despite always being too chicken as a teenager to do it with her. The curiosity of being drunk didn’t outweigh the fear of being caught at all for you, at the time anyway.
“Sunghoon is usually the one babysitting us, so no need to worry about pacing yourself.” Heeseung comments along with his sneaky side eye at you.
You don’t notice him do it at all, and even if you did you’d just assume it’s a passing glance. After all, you did open the fridge a little too hard.
“Sunghoon?” You ask.
“One of my friends,” He raises his hand to his hair to try and shake out the now, obvious, speckle of batter that’s starting to dry in the strands. “By the way, when you go to bed tonight– make sure you lock your door.” He continues, turning around now and leaning against the counter just to watch you lift on your toes for some of the cups in the cabinet.
His eyes watch the way you lift, your calf muscles flexing, your back arching slightly as you try to reach…And, well, he’s acting much like any man would, if he’s being honest, but ultimately he keeps his eyes to himself when your sister is turned or looking at him.
“Noted.” You nod without paying much attention, pouring the drinks and now moving the filled glasses to the table.
You make brief eye contact with him, noting how he’s already looking at you while your sister is simply listening, facing the other way and mostly just focused on not burning the pancakes.
“I’m serious. Lock your door.” He repeats, scanning your body and judging just how dangerous it is for you to be living here.
Mostly because he’s always found you quite cute, and he’s very aware that his friends probably will too. Hell, he’s already crossed a line with you since day one of you living here, he’s shocked you haven’t yet picked up on it, and knows very well that his friends will make moves instantly if you give them a chance. And with all things considered, you seem a bit too unaware of how attractive you are.
“Hm?” You raise a brow as you make your way back to the kitchen. “I was going to, but now you’re making it sound important.”
“Well,” Your sister chimes in, stepping back once and holding out her hand. Heeseung is quick adjust his eyes, handing the fresh bowl of batter to her with a kiss to her cheek as if he wasn’t just eye fucking you. “All of them are single, and you’re just about as good looking as I am.” She laughs half-heartedly.
She’s not trying to have an ego, but it’s best to warn you now at least. It’s not that she thinks she’s hot or anything, but she knows they think she is. And if that’s the case, they’re gonna be drooling over the younger, more single, version of herself.
Heeseung rolls his eyes now though, leaning back against the counter and scanning you again the second your sister has her back turned. This time more blatantly. Eyes landing on the curve of your hips to the length of your legs.
“Yeah.” He says, sucking in a breath with a half lidded gaze, letting his eyes trail down. “I’ll try to keep them at bay, though.”
For Heeseung, there is nothing wrong with looking. For you? You feel very seen by him and it’s kind of throwing you for a loop. Your appearance becomes the main point of conversation and it makes you want to kind of leave the kitchen.
“I doubt that’ll be an issue.” You try to laugh it off.
“No, seriously.” Your sister says, turning to look at you briefly to give you a serious expression. “Back when I first met Heeseung, all four of them were after me. I swear, they’re more than just competitive with their games.”
“I always win though.” Heeseung nods triumphantly, now keeping his eyes to himself and focusing more on his girlfriend.
“That, you do.” She boasts for him, leaning back after moving the pancakes to a plate and landing a kiss on his lips.
You study how they move together. So in sync, not stepping on each other’s toes, ultimately moving in harmony. Likes it natural to them. She really does look happy, and he just looks like a guy who doesn’t know where to land his gaze.
A normal guy, you think, who was given the same freedom your sister gives to you. It really is just who she is to take care of people, and the harsh judgment you originally had about Heeseung kind of fades a little bit as you watch them.
You try not to study him too much though because damn, your sister knows how to pick them in terms of like, scale of attractiveness. Heeseung is the type of guy the two of you would giggle over at the mall. The type you’d silently bicker over from behind a store rack of jackets, or perhaps even fantasize about during a long and boring tv show with your parents.
It’s not strange to find him attractive, because, well, he is. But you know your place here, and you’ve grown up to the point to know that you can appreciate a person’s looks and not need anything from them at the end of the day.
However, you kind of hope his friends are at the same level as him. For one, to avoid having a secret crush on Heeseung, because who wouldn’t? And secondly, they’re single, just like you.
Apparently they’re also a threat to the “innocence” both your sister and Heeseung seem to want to protect within you.
“I’ll lock my door.” You say finally, receiving a happy nod from both of them as they continue their cooking and you make your way to the table.
And while you do plan to lock your door, you also plan to take your time in getting dressed for the party. You kind of do want to be pounced at, or at least, feel the freedom of knowing you can look however you want without your parents forcing you into the ugliest outfit known to man. You know how to dress yourself, you’ve just never quite been allowed to do it. All those sneaky clothes your sister bought for you can finally come in handy.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
When your sister mentioned throwing you a welcome party, you expected a gathering of friends standing around awkwardly sipping wine coolers. What you didn’t expect was for there to be mood lighting, music, an array of nicely dressed people, and a large gaming set up in the living room where the big screen television was muted and a maximum of eight at a time could go head to head on super smash bros.
You found yourself enjoying it more and more as the night went on and you became more comfortable being greeted by strangers. Each drink you were handed mostly came from your sister, but by the time she stopped making her own drinks and began to drink whatever the hell-mix her friends were giving to her, Heeseung was the one handing you drinks.
“Come here–” Heeseung says over the blaring music, still floored by how good you look now versus how good you looked this morning. To him, the drinks he’s having paired with you running around looking like this? It’s even more dangerous than he thought as he continuously finds himself staring, and finds you seemingly still unaware of it.
“I’ll show you how to mix this one.”
Your sister was off somewhere in the house with her group of pretty friends, and you’ve really only briefly met everyone as they walked in the door. The drinks in your system make you want to actually mingle though. Everyone else is mingling, everyone else looks comfortable and happy to enjoy the party. It drives you to feel the same.
You nod to Heeseung with warmth in your cheeks, noting that he looks about as tipsy as you do when he stumbles his way back into the brightly lit kitchen with you. Your eyes burn at the light, as do his, and he groans at it before opening the fridge and pulling out the cranberry juice.
“Your sister said you’ve probably only chugged from a bottle, so I opted to give you the easiest drink to make.” He explains in a slight slur, setting the juice on the counter and ultimately knocking it with his elbow when he turns to grab the vodka bottle. “Cranberry juice and vodka.”
You feel endeared by his genuine smile and embarrassed laugh at the way he knocked over the juice, watching him in his own element and comfort zone. It makes you feel a little guilty that he’s been the one making your drinks, only because your sister must have asked him to by the time she got too drunk.
Heeseung seems to do just about everything she asks of him, and while you’re thankful, you feel a little bad that he’d probably rather be in the other room with his friends rather than trapped in this empty and terribly lit kitchen teaching you how to make a fucking mixed drink.
“I put about–” He starts, grabbing your cup and pouring it half full with vodka. “this much into yours.”
In your own state, it’s not like you’d know what’s too much or what’s too little to put into a drink, but so far everything he’s handed to you tasted good. So, you nod at him, attempting to focus in on the cup.
“And this much juice.” He continues, now pouring not enough juice into the vodka.
From this angle, watching him from behind, you pause for a moment in your tipsy brain. Distracted by the way his shoulders flex when he’s grabbing that big ass bottle of juice, but you’re quick to tear your eyes away. He’s just a nice looking guy, dressed up for the first time since you moved in, you can’t fucking help it. Surely your sister would understand if she ever caught you checking him out, right?
“Then just stir it.” He adds now, turning to face you and dipping two fingers deep into the liquid of your cup, swirling them, then handing you the drink.
He sucks the remaining mixture off of his fingers in a blatant show of his interest that you’re still far too aloof to pick up, watching you pretend he didn’t catch you staring. And with his fingers still in his mouth, he smirks around them, giving you a pleased expression when you take a sip from the cup.
You glance up just for a second when you taste the same exact drink he’s been making you for the past forty five minutes and nod, trying not to focus on the way his tongue darts between his fingers twice before he pulls them out of his mouth.
“Good?” He asks for confirmation, and when you smile and nod again, his eyes stare harder.
Surely it’s just because you’re drunk, but you swear he’s giving you bedroom eyes, and paired with what he just did with his tongue….well. He looks at you similar to how he did this morning. And when you moved in. And back during that one Holiday party he attended at your childhood home.
Definitely the alcohol. Like, he’s dating your sister. She’s the prettier one, the more successful one, the one with more personality. You’re just you. No way in hell is he really looking at you the same way he looks at her. It’s just your boosted confidence of finally being able to wear such a skimpy outfit. It’s just the liquid courage, that’s all.
“You know–” He starts this time, leaning against the counter like he did this morning while helping your sister cook, trying to appear casual, cool, and perhaps attractive in this stance. “When I was beating Jay’s ass on smash bros earlier, he mentioned you.”
You continue to sip your drink, feeling a buzzing in your chest and ears as you listen to him. Far more able now to have any conversation he could throw at you compared to any other day. Even with the thought in your head that he might be checking you out.
“Oh? Which one is Jay again?” You ask, leaning slightly to peek around the wall at the crowd of bodies just a room over. Interest peaking solely because the majority of people in this house right now are like, next level attractive. Maybe this Jay guy can take your thoughts off of your sister’s fucking boyfriend.
“The one with the sunglasses on his head, wearing all black.” He starts, leaning close next to you and pointing just in front of your line of sight. “He’s a fucking loser, though.”
You look at the guy, trying to remember the short greeting he gave to you. A nod of his head when he pushed those same sunglasses up and into his hair. He threw a very quick glance at you, to your face, chest, legs, then back to your face where he nodded again before making his way into the kitchen to make himself a drink. You think, maybe, that Jay guy judged you positively upon meeting you.
“He didn’t even tell me his name, no wonder I didn’t know which one he was.” You lend a drunken laugh as you check him out, sipping your drink again while listening to Heeseung laugh next to you.
His laugh sounds closer, which makes sense considering he’s now leaning his weight on you with his elbow on your shoulder, resting his head there.
“I thought he was that one–” You say, now pointing your own finger to the other guy you met briefly, the one with the longer hair, dyed blonde with hella untouched roots..
He had a nice smile when he greeted you, leaning in for a warm hug with a small “great to finally meet you.” His clothes drastically differed from Jay’s though. Far more casual and normal, loose jeans and a large hoodie just like what Heeseung seems to wear so often, except the colors were a bit brighter.
“Nah, that’s Jake.” Heeseung snorts, breathing in your scent as he leans into you as closely as he can, letting the stands of his hair poking out from his beanie tickle your neck. “Careful with that one, he’s a pervert.”
You’re quick to admit interest in this one too, swatting Heeseung’s hair from your neck without thinking much about it. Which, arguably, doesn’t quite sit well with him.
Not only are you almost entirely ignoring him now, but it’s his fault for pointing out his friends to you again despite his attempts at making them appear unappealing to you. It seems that his girlfriend’s little sister is a bit too eager to look at guys, yet not eager enough to look at him.
“Oh yeah?” You look for a little too long at Jake, in Heeseung’s opinion, as he draws his finger over to the very sober Sunghoon.
“You remember meeting him though, he made sure of it.” Heeseung rolls his eyes from beside you, leaning hard. “Also a pervert, just a little less obvious. I’d steer clear.”
“Is Jay the only one that isn’t a pervert?” You ask off handedly in a shy chuckle, bobbing your head now to the music bumping against the walls.
“God, did I not just tell you he mentioned you?” Heeseung shifts his weight to his other leg, skewing his head and looking straight down your shirt. “He asked if you were like your sister, the freak.”
He leans away from you at that point, noting that your drink is already near empty again and needing to refill it so that way he can push his own opinions into that empty little brain of yours.
“What do you mean, like my sister?” You ask, watching him take the cup from you and place it right there in front of the same ingredients he just used to make the drink before.
“Well,” He tilts his head back slightly when he turns to prepare the drink, eyes looking at you in a dark and somewhat scary way, still with a charming smile though. “Your big sis kind of got a little dirty on our first date. Guess Jay hopes you’re the same.”
Heeseung hopes you are too, but not for them.
And, for you? It’s not like you’ve ever been given a chance to do such a thing. However, upon meeting and then re-meeting his friends from afar, all of them really are quite attractive. Maybe you could follow in your sister’s footsteps just to say that yes, you fuck on the first date too.
“I guess I am a bit like her.” You say offhandedly, looking away from Heeseung and tipping your head back around the corner to check the three men out again.
And when Heeseung turns to give you another full drink, he snaps his fingers.
“Get back in here.” He says, and when you turn to face him again, his eyes land right back on your chest.
“I’d advise against it.” He slurs at seeing your curious gaze land on one specific friend, stirring your drink with his fingers much like he did before. “Jay is a slut.”
“All of them are, actually.”
Unfortunately, Heeseung’s warnings go through one ear and out the other. He can see it, especially with the way you place that drink up to your lips and make your way into the living room, leaving him behind without so much as a “thank you”.
And when you sit, directly between Jay and Jake, both of them turn their heads from the large TV screen, which allows Sunghoon to land some pretty major blows on them until he, himself, turns his head to witness two drunk idiots and a pretty girl between them.
“Heeseung said you asked about me.” You state boldly, leaning into the wrong person to say it.
“Well, he’s a liar.” Jake bellows out, studying how drunk you are and glancing up at Jay with a snide grin. Raising his brows and gripping his controller.
“That would be me who asked.” Jay pipes in, and it’s the first time you’ve heard his voice directly address you, but man, alcohol is fun. It makes you feel even more bold when you turn to look at him with a face that you assume shows interest.
“Why didn’t you just ask me yourself?” You ask, ignoring that you fumbled the greeting.
“You weren’t drunk enough,” Jay laughs, ignoring the screen as it gives Sunghoon his win. “I see now though,” He looks you up and down, slouching back against the couch and stretching his arm wide around the back of it, and you.” You’re definitely drunk.”
You nod happily, eyes turning to Jake, who is still just checking you out.
“Sure am.” You laugh, hopping up in one motion and turning to face them. “Heeseung also told me that you’re all fucking perverts, so.”
Jay and Jake both lend a “what the fuck, bro?” face at Heeseung, who was slouched against the wall, yet again, watching how you interact with his friends. He simply shrugs at them with a malicious smile into his drink. After all, he’s the one on top of the world right now. Not only does he have a hot as fuck girlfriend who lets him live and do as he pleases, but now he’s got a younger version of her running around, acting like she knows how to whore herself out.
He can tell you’re just like her in that regard. Ready, willing, wanting to experience everything all at once if the world throws it at you. From the way you sat between his friends to the way you snitched on him with a pretty smile on your face. Oh man, the guys probably love you already.
“So, what?” Jay rolls his eyes as Jake watches you stand on wobbling legs. “You don’t like to get laid?”
You bellow out a laugh that nearly throws you off balance, but Jake is very quick to lunge forward and grab your arm to steady you, forcing you to spill your drink all over yourself and him.
“Sure I do,” You ignore the blatant show of your mindstate and instead, remember how you’ve actually had plenty of sex during whatever time you could fit, in whatever place was hidden enough that didn’t involve your own home. “Why, you trying to get some?”
Jay smirks at you as Jake holds your half-spilled drink, listening to you flirt and smiling much the same way.
“Maybe.” Jay shrugs, side eyeing both of his friends. “You gonna give it up?” He adds, now blatantly checking you out from head to toe, liking very much what he’s seeing.
“Nope.” Heeseung suddenly cuts in, staring his three friends in the face as he grabs your drink from Jake and hands it back to you before wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pretending to be the knight in shining armor your sister wants him to be.
You look back at the three men as Heeseung leads you away, then you note that Sunghoon shrugs at you.
“What the hell?” You ask, slightly annoyed with Heeseung and the lights of the kitchen blinding you once again. “I was busy.”
“Busy doing what? Teasing my friends?” Heeseung shakes his head as he turns away from you, placing your cup down and opening the bottles back up. “You’re playing a dangerous game, babe, I’d stop if I were you.”
“And? Maybe I like it.” You roll your eyes, ignoring how the alcohol radiates behind your eyes and lends two Heeseungs to pretend you’re not attracted to. At least with his friends, you can be more open about it.
Heeseung stops making your drink and turns to look at you and the way your eyes struggle to adjust. He’s entirely floored by that statement. The fact that you’ve kept to yourself for the most part since you’ve moved in, and now you’re all cute and drunk in front of him revealing just how much of a whore you might be if you were given the chance? Damn.
“Your sister would kill you.” He says, turning back to your drink and knowing that your sister probably wouldn’t actually give a shit if you fuck his friends. He does though.
“I mean, I guess I won’t stop you.” He lies, now turning back to make your drink the exact same way and giving it to you despite knowing he shouldn’t be giving you more.
“Can honestly say you’re a bit too pretty for them, though.” He adds in a snide compliment, wanting so badly to flirt but doing his best to appear like it’s totally normal for him to say these things.
And as he notes your stare at him, processing the words, he takes this moment to grab a towel from the sink to dab away at the drink that you previously spilled all over yourself.
You look at him, watching him dab the towel against your arm. He seems focused on doing it, pretty face and clear skin shining in these morgue lights in the kitchen compared to everywhere else in the house. And then, you note how when he looks up, his eyes stop momentarily at the amount of cleavage you’re revealing for this occasion. Hah, he probably thinks his messy strands of hair hid his eyes from you, but you saw it.
“Oh, I get it.” You take in a deep inhale, reaching to pull his beanie over his eyes and letting out a bold laugh because really, you’re pretty drunk by this point. “You’re a pervert too.”
Heeseung shrugs, lifting the beanie back up and standing much taller in front of you. He skews his head down, looking right past your face and down your shirt this time. Proud of seeing the curve of them and the space between that could probably stimulate any cock you squeeze there.
“Maybe, yeah.” He smirks, taking a slight step closer and letting both arms trap you against the counter, hovering above you with an intimidating stance. “Maybe even more than they are.” He adds, already preparing himself to press his hips up and against you, uncaring of how it would look if he were to be found like this with you.
Unfortunately, he’s forced to care because there’s a happy pair of footsteps making their way to the kitchen, and he really should not have been about to do that in the first place. He stumbles back at the sound, smiling at you with a quick, tipsy wink.
It leaves you a little dizzy as you stare at him with a weird kind of aroused feeling in your gut. Surely that’s the alcohol too, it has to be. You’re very quick to shrug off the small intimate moment as you hear your sister’s loud and booming voice calling out his name.
You watch as she envelopes him in a fraction of a second, lifting on her unbalanced feet to immediately start making out with him.
You’re not sure why you stand there and watch for a second, a little zoned out before Heeseung opens his eyes briefly and looks at you throughout the bruising kiss he’s currently an active participant of.
There’s that same look again, only this time he’s doing it while licking into your sister’s mouth. You’re so fucking confused right now. All the signals have to be your imagination, right?
You snap out of the daze then, whispering a small “ill just go somewhere else.” before leaving the kitchen and finding yourself at the table just outside of it.
You try to keep your eyes to yourself at this point regarding Heeseung, feeling all of the buzz and heat in your gut at the idea of being allowed to be openly sexually attracted to just about any man you lay eyes on. He’s nothing special, just a handsome guy. His friends are just as attractive, right?
And as you trail your eyes around the room trying to find someone to go mingle with, you are instead surrounded by your sister’s friends. Still, when you glance to the living room, every single time, either Jake, Jay, or that other guy is watching you with eyes that you’ve read before from other men.
Arguably, the same eyes Heeseung gave you just a few minutes before. At least with them, you know you’re not reading those bedroom eyes wrong.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
“Give me a week.” Jake says, elbowing Jay in the side and taking a hefty sip of his terribly mixed drink as his eyes drift to the new girl surrounded by other hot girls. “I'll be in her bed before the week is up..”
Jay rolls his eyes, standing from the couch and stretching out his own tipsy limbs as he walks to Sunghoon and sits on that couch instead.
“Three days for me then.” He says, giving Jake a too-confident face. “I could go over there right the fuck now and have her on her knees, probably.” He says as he looks at you, fitting in so well with the group of girls. Possibly being the hottest one too. “Maybe.”
Sunghoon rolls his eyes at his slurring best friends, clearly drunker than they realize.
“You both take the wrong approach.” He says, stiffening his shoulders before slouching entirely against the couch, considering ditching the baby-sitting job and having a drink as well. “You think they’d just let you fuck her? I’ll get her to go on a date with me first. Get her legs open in my car after.”
“Quite frankly, Sunghoon, I don’t really give a shit if they’d let me. I’m going to get some of that.” Jay responds.
All three of them are staring at you, thankfully, you don’t seem to notice as you fall into a conversation with that same group of girls, plus your sister now. And just as Jake was about to add more to the conversation, Heeseung makes his way in.
“Don’t–” Heeseung slurs as he flops beside Jake, letting his heavy limbs hurt his friend. “–even think about it, Jakey boy.” He says, knowing for a fact what all three of his whore friends are thinking. They’ve been staring and glancing at you all night.
Jake avoids eye contact, because he’s definitely thinking about it.
“No worries.” Jay shrugs. “We’re just looking, that’s all.”
Somehow, someway, all three of Heeseung’s friends pick up on what Jay is putting down. Ah, a deal of leaving him out, they suppose.
After all, Heeseung already managed to bag your sister. They know he’d keep her little sister off limits to them too. Out of respect or some shit, probably. Bro code, all of that.
“Keep it that way.” He hums, shoving Jake and laughing. “She’s too hot for you guys anyway, just like her sister.”
There’s a shared look between the three as Sunghoon lunges for Jay’s drink and takes a sip of it.
“Heeseung, we’re crashing here tonight.” He bellows out through tangy lips.
And, well, Heeseung didn’t argue because he knows he’s not in a state to really give a shit at this point. The only thing he needs to be focused on right now is willing his cock to soften up a bit before he does something drastic about it.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Heeseung thinks hard as he looks at himself in the mirror. He’s seeing two of himself which is kind of funny in one aspect, but also terrifying because he didn’t intend to drink this much.
Why is he so upset to see his friends go for you? You’ve been here a week and he’s already feeling so jealous? Really? Then again, he knew from the moment your sister told him you were moving you that it was going to be either very interesting or incredibly difficult.
Mostly because he’s stolen glances at you for years. Wondering when you’d ever come to visit, always looking so pretty and happy during those brief holiday gatherings. Oh yes, he’s had his eye on you for a fucking while. And now? You’re living here? And coming onto his friends right after he warned you not to?
For the past hour as he sipped and watched you roam the house, back and forth between the girls, your sister, and his boys, he couldn’t help but scoff at you for it. You haven’t spoken to him since the kitchen incident. A little bit of a blatant moment on his part, he admits, he even surprised himself with that.
Still, this protective feeling doesn’t come from being your future brother in law. Absolutely not. It stems entirely from the twitch in his pants he’s gotten nearly every single moment he’s gotten to take a long look at you.
It was manageable before, where he’d see you maybe once or twice a year. But now? It’s every single day, and it pisses him off that you’re not mingling with him during this party.
He stares at himself, bobbing his head to the music in the mirror before leaning forward against the counter and inching closer and closer to his own face.Finally, he can focus in and see only one of himself looking back in the mirror.
All he sees is a man who has managed to bag himself the perfect woman. One willing to coddle him and take care of him like a mother would, one willing to let him float through life unemployed for the time being, one that doesn’t entirely let him fuck the way he wants to solely because she’s far too confident in herself to let him pull such a thing with her.
Heeseung tilts his head at himself as he examines his face in the mirror, knocking his beanie off and running his fingers through his hair. Leaning back and once again to relish in his own doubled vision.
What he really sees looking back at him in that mirror is a man who bagged himself an almost perfect woman who appears to have a truly perfect sister. It’s the fact that suddenly, he can admit that he is bored in the bedroom, and a man who is far too eager to ignore that if he got the chance, he would be just like his friends regarding you.
He would be getting your number and asking to see what those tits look like under that skimpy shirt you’re wearing tonight. You’d probably show them too, considering the fact that you lived your entire life up until this point barred by church sermons and non-existent doors that offer no privacy to so much as finger yourself. You’re probably dying to experience all of the things you were already supposed to be well acquainted with at your age.
And as he thinks about it, head spinning in thoughts of what he’s already done just moments after you officially moved in, he slips his hand down. Groping himself through his jeans and staring down at the bulge that sits just above the counter.
He hangs his head, smirking and shivering at the small touch he lends to his own length. It’s the fact that he just got hard over the confirmation of being sexually unsatisfied in his own bedroom. The shamed truth that he stood here thinking a little too hard about what kind of nudes you’d send if he ever chose to ask for them, it’s not something he’s ashamed of either.
In fact, the thought of sneaking out of the bed while your sister sleeps just to slip into your room and cover your pretty little mouth in his cum? That’s more arousing than knowing he could just leave the bathroom right now and fuck your sister.
And he stands there for a few minutes testing that theory, running his fingers along the swollen inseam of his pants in a careful way, like his girlfriend does. He twitches once at the feeling, glancing up at himself in the mirror again, trying hard to imagine her in this bathroom with him.
Another twitch, weaker this time. He laughs at himself quietly in defeat before breathing in a deep inhale through his nose, allowing the muffled music just outside of the door to fade off through his hot ears and aroused mind.
He closes his eyes briefly when he grabs himself now. Rougher, harsher, messier. Trying to mimic the hand of a woman who probably hasn’t done this too much, trying to mimic what he thinks you’d do. His hips shift forward almost immediately and without intention, chasing the feeling of inexperience. Chasing the thought of someone that isn’t his girlfriend. He chuckles more now, confirming his theory.
Chasing it with his eyes closed up until he does open his eyes and sees himself looking so out of it for you. Knowing that you’re just ten feet away if he were to walk out of this bathroom right now, so drunk and cute, you probably wouldn’t think twice about giving it to him. Knowing that if he really wanted to, he could take you the way he’s always wanted your sister and you'd probably love every second of it.
He’d fuck you better. You’d be tighter, wetter, and louder for him than she ever has been.
And just as he goes to slide his hand down the front of his pants, intending to fuck his own fist to the thought of you tonight rather than turning that lock behind his own door to get between your sister’s legs, there’s a loud knock on the door. He jumps at the sound, adjusting his pants right back to where they belong before whipping around a bit too quickly and sending a bottle of perfume clattering to the floor in a loud POP sound.
“Shit-” He groans, smelling the intense aroma of what your sister wears, forcing his mind back to the reality of not being allowed to fuck you.
He tiptoes around the broken glass, nostrils burning at the strong scent before swinging the door open with an annoyed roll of his eyes.
“Heeeeeeeeseungie!” Your sister sings, fumbling over and leaning on him instantly with her arms circling his shoulders. She’s so gone that she doesn’t even notice the scent of her favorite perfume that just got destroyed.
“Hey honey,” Heeseung says calmly, appearing far more sober despite being a bit buckled at the knees. “Need help?”
She nods against his chest, unaware of his softening cock that wasn’t at all raging for her just moments before.
“There’s glass all over the floor right now, let’s go use your sister’s bathroom.”
The length in his pants shrank nearly instantly upon feeling her cling to him like this, with that cute, high pitched, voice she tends to use when she’s needy. He tries not to think about that though. Coming to terms with the fact that what used to get him off is currently turning him off? That’s too much of a dangerous thought right now.
“Mhm,” Your sister hums as he guides her to your closed bedroom door. “Wait!” Your sister panics, coming to her drunk senses for just long enough to blurt “She came in here with Sunghoon earlier, we should knock.”
Heeseung stiffens for a moment, pausing his step just outside your bedroom door. The weight of his own girlfriend against him should be something he loves right now, but he just finds himself wishing she’d get the fuck off of him.
The fact he’s somehow more pissed about you behind this door, probably giving it to Sunghoon, than he is in love with his girlfriend right now? Telling. He knocks once before immediately turning your door knob. Locked.
“Hey, your sister needs to use the bathroom.” Heeseung shouts right up against the crack of the door, wiggling the knob. “Open up!”
“Use the other bathroom!” You shout back in a muffled and far away sounding voice.
Heeseung stands there, pretending he doesn’t notice the sound of shuffling on the other side when the song booming through the speakers changes for a split second.
“Can’t use the other bathroom! There’s glass on the floor!”
Silence from the other side of the door for a brief moment then, click! You crack it open, cheeks flushed and eyes struggling to focus on him. Heeseung immediately pushes the door open to reveal not only Sunghoon, but Jake and Jay all three lounging around your room.
Still fully clothed, at least, but he can tell at least one of them appears to be struggling to hide his hard on. (Jake.)
Heeseung narrows his eyes at all three of the men. Jake sitting stiffly on the floor at the end of your bed, hands over his lap. Jay, lounging on your bed, as if he’s been on it a thousand times with a half-boner on full display. And then Sunghoon, clearly feeling some type of buzz as he’s the only one still drinking, leaning right up against the dresser that Heeseung built himself.
“Ooh,” Your sister hums, wiggling her finger at you.”Scandalous.”
You lend her a shy smile as you take a step back, willing them sooner rather than later to leave solely because you were busy in here.
Not like, fucking or anything. Just having a nice, innocent, conversation with three hot guys. That’s all. Plus, you’d never have been able to handle sitting alone in a room with these three if it weren’t for the alcohol in your system anyway. Especially with the way you initially only invited Sunghoon into your room to show him how you had the same style of socks he was wearing. Jake immediately followed both of you, followed by Jay, who was the one who closed the door and locked it.
And you pay no mind to Heeseung and your sister walking to your bathroom on unbalanced steps, you find yourself flopping back on the bed right beside Jay instead.
None of them have done anything at all to make you feel awkward or like this situation is dangerous either. In fact, the only thing you guys have talked about are the mutual interests that you share.
Poor you, so aloof when drunk. Unable to comprehend the fact that every single one of the guys in your room right now have made attempts to steer the conversation in their own way to things not so innocent.
You do try to ignore what happened in the kitchen with Heeseung though, avoiding eye contact with him as he makes his way back out of your room after helping with your sister. You think he’s glaring, maybe, but oh well.
“Anyway, back at home my dad would have never let me wear band shirts.”
“That’s tough.” Jay comments, side eyeing your chest in that top and low-key wondering how nice your tits would look braless, under one of his band shirts. “Bet he didn’t know he raised not one, but two sneaky daughters.”
You smile triumphantly, ignoring the shadow of your sister that they force you into.
“They made it really hard to break rules. Now though? I get to wear stuff like this and hang out with guys like you.”
“Yeah,” Jake trails off, turning his body to peek at you from the end of the bed. “Probably not the smartest move on your part.”
You bring your attention to him, seeing a blur of charming eyes and messy hair.
“What do you mean?”
“What he means is that, it’s probably not ideal to get shit faced then lock yourself in a room with three horny guys.” Sunghoon asserts, pushing off of the dresser and now setting himself on the foot of your bed. “You can’t tell?”
You, for some reason, are astonished at his words. Sunghoon, compared to the other two, seemed more quiet and reserved if you’re being honest. Then again, you’ve only known these guys for a few hours by this point. What you do know about Sunghoon, is that he’s horrifyingly attractive in the way he carries himself, which you can’t really say the same for Jake or Jay.
With his perfected dark hair and tall stance. he looms around with each expression on his face leaving little to the imagination in the way his eyebrows accentuate whatever thought flows behind his eyes. Somehow, he’s still the hardest to read, as you watch him assert his own form of dominance on your bed.
You’re blissfully unaware of how tame Sunghoon was actually being at this moment though. All three of them, they’re competing to see who fucks you first, and whoever wins? Ah, not only do they get a paid night at the bar out of it, but both losers have to fork over another sum of money equal to that of two seasons worth of battle passes to whatever game the winner may choose to play.
“I think this is a good time to hand you my phone, give me your number.” Jay cuts in quite quickly, ignoring the way Sunghoon invites himself into the space he created with you.
Jay doesn’t even let you process his words as he tosses his phone to the side and at you, watching it land on your stomach before sliding off to the other side of you.
“Ah, you’re cute.” He chuckles upon noting your terrible coordination skills of grabbing said phone.
“Well, I’m drunk, so.” You dead-pan, freezing when you feel him lean over you to grab the phone himself, staying there and hovering over you with it in his hand.
You let out a small gasp when you meet his eyes, staring straight through you.
Sunghoon rolls his eyes at Jay’s blatant show of interest, and Jake simply watches. Studies how you react to the forwardness.
“Go on.” Jay encourages you, holding the phone directly in front of you, where your eyes are still glued to his confident face, as if he’s not practically caging you in on your own bed like this. “Type it in.”
You do. Somehow managing to type your number perfectly on the screen placed in front of you, and he’s quick to turn the phone to himself, flicking his eyes back and forth between you and the screen as he presses the call button.
Your phone vibrates from the dresser and Jay gives a victorious and somewhat dark smile.
“One for me, zero for the idiots.” He laughs, lending you one more glance, a squeeze of his palm against your waist, and then he’s moving off of you and your bed as a whole. “Call me when you kick them out, I’ll sleep in here tonight.” He adds, leaving no room for argument before leaving the room entirely.
That leaves Sunghoon and Jake, sitting there trying to pretend it wasn’t expected of Jay to at least get your number first. He always starts strong, then again, he also always fumbles hard when things get gritty. In game and out of game.
“What a prick.” Sunghoon sighs, flopping back on the end of your bed and forcing you to shift your legs up and press them together to make room for his broad body.
He turns his face to look at you from down here, watching you spread your legs to look back at him. The motion is innocent at best, because you seem to trust that he’s not trying to be a pervert right now. Oh, but he is.
He looks at you from this angle hard, realizing how easy it could be to shift just a foot in the right direction to have his face right where you’d probably like it.
And you note the way he’s looking at you.
“Do you guys like…” You glance away from him, over to Jake who is now making his own way onto the bed where Jay was lying before. You shift for a moment, feeling like prey. “Do you guys always share a girlfriend?”
Jake snorts.
“Share?!” He laughs at your question more before settling back against your pillows and landing his hand on your thigh. Easy, simple, and obvious. “We don’t share anything.” He explains now, feeling the fabric of your bottoms and pushing your legs closed so that Sunghoon can’t lay down there and think up all sorts of fantasies.
“You’re gonna have to pick.” Sunghoon says in an annoyed tone, glaring at Jake for closing your legs.
He lifts up on his arms now, raising a brow.
“I’ll give you some advice though.” He says, noting how you listen to him more than you do Jake. “Jay has the stamina of a dead horse.”
Snorting only for a moment, you think hard about Jay. Noting his cool and collected demeanor. Uncaring, somewhat cold, but his face seemed warm and endearing when he looked at you from time to time. You could sense the confidence in him from the moment he looked at you when he walked into this house. Instant attraction, without even knowing his name, is what you felt. With that sleek hair style and pretty hands gripping a full bottle of tequila. He probably has more stamina than Sunghoon gives him credit for.
“And Jake.” Sunghoon laughs this time, pointing directly at the guy lying next to you. “Two strokes and he’s out of the game.”
You laugh again looking over to Jake, who stares at Sunghoon with a dark glare.
“What the fuck dude? That was one time!” He defends himself, babbling about how it was the first time he ever had sex, and how he can go way longer now.
“Me, on the other hand.” Sunghoon perks up as he runs his hands through his hair before smiling at you. “I just want to take you on a date.”
Ding ding ding! We have a winner.
“Really?” You ask, floored over possibly landing your first date in years that your parents wouldn’t be attending.
“Of course.” He nods politely, ignoring that Jake is even in the room now. “I’m not the kind of guy who is just trying to get between your legs.” He lies easily, glaring at Jake again for closing your legs earlier.
“So, what do you say?” Sunghoon encourages you to pick him at this moment, and the nod you give has him pulling his own phone out, asking you to tell him your number rather than forcing you to type it into his phone.
You smile as you give him the numbers, not at all seeing Jake try to sneakily type it into his phone as well.
“Good.” Sunghoon says, flopping back on your bed and now using his own hand to part your legs again. You look at him from above and feel elated by how petty and clean cut he is. “Don’t call Jay when I leave, then.”
You hum a confirmation, stretching out your arms and feeling confident as all hell at the way tonight has gone. Up until, well, Sunghoon makes his way out of the room and tries to drag Jake with him. Only because he knows Jake is awful at talking to girls but man, do they swoon if they’re into desperate guys. You seem to be into just about anyone, if Sunghoon is honest with himself.
“Come on, dickhead.” Sunghoon gripes at Jake, grabbing his hoodie and physically trying to drag him out of the room.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Jake says, pressing all of his body weight against your mattress and kicking Sunghoon away from him. “Play fair or I’ll tell her about last weekend.”
Sunghoon instantly avoids eye contact with him, knowing that if Jake were to spill the beans on how he forgot to leave the server during his uh…session, a date would be out of the question not only for now, but for good.
“You’re the fucking worst.” He grimaces before releasing Jake’s hoodie and stepping out of the room, only half wondering if he should truly let Jake shoot his shot as well.
Ultimately, Sunghoon finds himself stepping out of the door and directly into Jay.
“Well played.” Jay comments. “Guess I’ll just have to prove to her that you’re full of shit, won’t I?”
Sunghoon smiles a wicked grin, eyes narrowing at Jay.
“You won’t even get the chance.” He says, looking past Jay and down the hallway at Heeseung, who is shooting a death-glare at them. “Oh, check it.” He changes the subject by shoving Jay in the side to look at their friend. “He’s mad.”
Jay turns to look at whatever it is Sunghoon is talking about and simply laughs.
“He can tell something is up. Maybe we should tell him?” Jay asks, crossing his arms in interest.
“Eventually.” Sunghoon laughs as he pushes past Jay and makes his way to the kitchen for another drink.
Jake, on the other hand, is fucking vibrating as he sits alone in this room with you, dodging the questions about what Sunghoon did last weekend to cause such a reaction with an entirely made up sob story.
“Oh my god?” You coo out, turning to face him entirely. “That’s so sad!”
Jake mumbles, nodding his head as if he pities himself with a pout on his face.
“Yeah, I guess that’s just how things go for me though.” He shrugs, blinking at you with the biggest and softest eyes he can manage.
“I can’t believe she did that!” You bellow out now, entirely invested in the backstory of the love life he lost just a few months prior. “With her own cousin, too?!”
Jake nods again with that same pout, looking as defeated as he can, trying to be as charming as he possibly can.
You lean forward to give him a some form of hug at this moment, drunken emotion overtaking you as you sit and watch this poor guy pour his little broken heart out.
“If it makes you feel any better, my last boyfriend broke up with me because my dad threatened him.”
“No, that’s awful.” He chuckles sadly, shaking his head at you. “We’re both just unlucky, huh?”
He nods his head, seemingly to get you to shadow his actions, and as expected, you do. You nod to confirm his words, still invested in the fact that such a nice looking guy got fucked over like that, only to be made fun of by his friends for it.
So invested that you don’t note the way he keeps his hand on your leg or moves it upwards inch by inch.
“Can we change the subject?” Jake pouts harder, looking at you with sparkling eyes..
“Yeah, of course–”
“You’re really, really, pretty.” He suddenly blurts, looking you in the eye and using his other hand to brush a strand of hair out of your face. You totally believed his entire story, if the saddened look in your eye is anything to go by. “I think you should go on a date with me instead.”
You break eye contact, looking down again and only just now noticing his hand on your leg. Only just now noticing that hard-on he’s sporting in his pants.
“Jake.” You say, lifting your eyes back to him. “Are you–hard?” You lift your brows in pity again with the subject change, drunken brain telling you that he’s probably crawling in his skin over how hard he is, and how sad everything is for him.
“Oh, over this?” He asks, dropping his hand and blatantly groping himself. “A little. It always happens when someone as good looking as you gives me the time of day.”
Oh, how sweet. How cute. The fact that Jake gets hard simply over someone being nice to him?
“Well, don’t worry!” You try to perk him up, not at all realizing that he’s full of shit. “I know it’s not because you’re trying to get into my pants or anything. I won’t tell anyone.” You nod to him with a smile before– Uh oh.
“Well, actually–” Jake tries to start, already about to make his move when he notices the color on your face change and you’re fumbling to the bathroom.
And just like that, Jake has failed, as he stumbles out of your bed and to your locked bathroom door.
“Are you okay?” He asks with a sweet and caring voice.
Silence from the other end save for the sound of your sink running full blast probably to mask the sounds of your stomach trying to evacuate the copious amounts of alcohol that’s been fed to you.
So much for the pancakes being a fix-all solution. And with that, Jake leaves the room while pulling out his phone, texting the number he stole when you gave it to Sunghoon.
Jake: hey, don’t be embarrassed about getting sick. I’m gonna crash on the couch so if you need me i’ll be there.
After that, the party is pretty much over. Everyone save for the three perverts, Heeseung, and your sister remain.
This leaves your sister already passed out and tucked into her bed by none other than Heeseung himself, Jay already asleep on the couch, Sunghoon piled up on the floor between the dining room and the living room. Probably to create a barrier that would wake him if Jay really tried to get into your room.
And poor fucking Jake, forced to actually pity himself as he curls his body up on the love seat in the living room, pretending that it’s totally big enough for him to be comfortable here.
Heeseung looms around the house once everything goes silent, checking to be sure no one has passed out or died in a corner before coming back to the living room and staring at all three of his bitch-ass friends.
On one hand, he’s glad they’re in the living room and not in your room. On the other hand, he wants to smother all three of them. One by one.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Heeseung is in his head for a solid three days after the party. So much that his focus is more on you than his games. Which is super fucked up when he thinks about it. That’s why, when your sister heads off to work, he’s plotting in his head every time. He needs you to like him somehow.
The thoughts loop in his mind. From images of him pinning you up and against that kitchen counter again, to the fantasy image of you dropping to your knees in front of him. If anything, it’s not that he needs to fuck you, he just needs you to want him to.
And this is why he finds himself orbiting you. Finding reasons to come into your room, or reasons to get you out of it.
“I’m gonna do some laundry, do you have anything I need to wash?” When you didn’t have anything more than what was already in your basket, he still washed your clothes. He also folded one of his own shirts into your pile just to see if you’d wear it.
“I made some lunch, come eat with me.” You already ate while he was in the office playing his games, which he should have guessed.
“Hey, can you help me wash the dishes?” You had nodded, but never left your room and he ultimately ended up washing and drying them all himself. Waiting, waiting, and fucking waiting.
All three times he tried today, you brushed him off with your eyes glued to your phone.
Something has got to give because it’s starting to get embarrassing how much he thinks about you. With the way he avoided sex last night with his own, very beautiful girlfriend, just to hide in the bathroom at four in the morning getting off with something he absolutely should not have in his possession.
He doesn’t know how fucking long it’s gonna take to get you to break for him but it’s going to happen one way or the other. You don’t have a choice in the matter at this point .
It looks like you won’t even consider him in that pretty little head of yours simply because he’s considered off limits. He’s gonna have to prove you wrong.
Still, he remembers the way you looked at him during your welcome party. So cute and sweet when you’re drunk, so willing to hang out with him. The interest was there. He knows it was.
And now, as he ticks away at the WASD keys on his keyboard, running his little pixel version of himself back and forth between headshots that he misses every time, he wants to rip his fucking hair out.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Jay shouts through the headset. “He was right there!”
Heeseung knows his friends have every reason to rag on him right now. It’s the fifth lost ranked game of the day and he’s rotting inside at the thought of dropping back down to gold.
“Platinum my ass.” Sunghoon pipes in, slamming his mouse on his desk out of sheer annoyance at what happened during the last game. “You didn’t down a single person in the past three games.”
Heeseung sighs, ripping his headset off and closing out the game. He can feel it in his body. The frustration bubbling up to the point that he really only thinks about you and this shit needs to stop now before his precious rank drops so far down that even their bronze boy Jake could boast above him.
He ignores the annoyed shouts from his friends as he disconnects from discord, stands up, and practically storms out of the room and up to your door.
“I’m coming in!” Heeseung gripes.
This is your first time witnessing him in a bad mood, as he does exactly as he says and swings your door open for the fourth time today.
“You and me.” He says, pointing a finger at you “Right now.”
“Right now, what?” You ask in a nonchalant tone.
Which only pisses him off more because, fuck if he knows.
“Get off your phone. We’re hanging out.”
You furrow your brow at him, pointer finger locking the screen of your phone and hiding the string of texts you’d been sharing with one of his very own best friends. Your eyes scan him only for a moment, noting how rushed he appears to be while barging into your room like this.
Large hoodie covering the majority of his body, sweat on his brow probably from all of that screaming you heard in the office earlier, and that same very embarrassing dent on the top of his head from his headset.
As you look at him in all of his gamer boy glory you nod, only because out of all of his friends, you think you’d rather hang out with him because at least he’s not in your texts trying to land a date, or a hookup, or dropping dick pics by “accident”.
He’s just Heeseung, your sister’s loving and very hard to read boyfriend. Who you don’t happen to fully remember is capable of pinning you against the kitchen counter while trying to show you how much worse he is compared to his friends.
“Okay, what do you wanna do?”
He pauses, standing in your room and looking at you lounging on your bed. If he really told you what he’d like to do, it would probably scare you. He needs to think fast, not desperate.
“Uh,” He hums, glancing away from you and lifting his hand up to finally ruffle that embarrassing dent in his hair away. “Have you ever played video games?”
“Yeah. Not the ones you play though.” You roll your eyes at his attempt at sudden small talk.
God, he shouldn’t have asked. He doesn’t think you could make yourself any more alluring to him after saying that. While his girlfriend has never once even considered picking up a controller, you have? Oh, shit. Man, that’s so hot.
“Oh yeah?” He perks up in genuine interest, taking a step forward and landing himself on your bed without invitation. “Like what?”
“Party games mostly, I guess. Mario Party, Super Smash Bros, Wii sports, Among us.”
He nods as you list the most mundane games in the industry.
“Did you pick up pretty quickly? Like, did you ever win?” He asks, unaware that this conversation feels like literal foreplay to him, pleased by the fact that there’s suddenly more to like about you than just those tits and face….and personality….and intense need to break rules…and–
“Yeah, I can be kind of competitive.”
“Mm.” Heeseung nods in approval, turned on by the very image of you staring into a screen with dead eyes, fingers smashing on buttons and intensely focused.
“Do you wanna watch me play something?”
“How is that hanging out?” You ask, scoffing at the idea. “Why would I want to watch you have fun?”
Heeseung looks at you. Yeah, that’s fair. He would probably end up ignoring you the whole time anyway, but still. Is it so bad that he asked simply to fulfill the fantasy of having a girl fawn over him and his successes?
“Okay, then what would you want to do?” He shoots back, knowing it’s fair but hating it nonetheless. Wondering if there’s a chance that someday you’ll pile up on his lap and watch him carry the whole team to victory. Boasting for him more than he does for himself.
“Horror movie. I’m sure she’s told you but our parents were very strict about what media we consumed. I have a whole list of horror movies I’m trying to work through, but sometimes it’s kind of difficult to watch by myself.”
Fuck yeah. Maybe it’ll end in that cringe and cliche scenario he’s used time and time again when flirting with girls. Images of you jumping from a jumpscare and grabbing him on instinct. Fantasies of you cuddling up real close. So close that he can smell how much you want him. He could get hard right now just thinking of doing this very thing with you. Plus, he fucking loves horror movies.
“Get your pretty ass in the living room then. ” He nods, smiling at you in a way that hides every thought behind his empty, horny eyes.
And he just gets up and walks out like calling you pretty just now wasn’t at all out of place, he fucking winks at you. It really does throw you off that he just did that so nonchalantly, like he talks to everyone that way when you know for a fact that outside of this house, your sister has to fight him just to get him to wave hello to someone.
You wonder why it feels like maybe you shouldn’t be spending time alone with him. Arguably, you don’t want to admit that it makes you feel good either. Already with three separate, very attractive people, in your texts insisting that you pick them, that you choose them.
All of it is very desperate. Almost as desperate as you are to give in to every single one of them, but you can’t just let them know how sheltered you were and how free you feel the need to be now.
Of course Heeseung, your sister’s boyfriend, calling you pretty would make you feel confident. Like maybe you could be with someone just as attractive as him, or perhaps no longer live in the shadow of everything you wish you could be.
Her. Everything was always about her.
“Oh, your sister got top of her class! She’s gonna be moving out soon!” She really just left you there to suffer alone.
“Ah! Your sister just bought a house! I heard she and her boyfriend might marry soon!”
You scoffed that day when you entered college, no one congratulated you for the countless free rides or multiple acceptance letters. No, it was all about her despite the fact that she lived an hour and a half away and you were right there.
She was only better than and outshined you because she was older and got there first. It was never competitive with you until everyone in your life expected you to outshine, outdo, and outwit her.
Still, you jumped at the opportunity to live here solely to get away from your parents. Solely to try and live outside of everything you could be, only to become whatever the fuck you want to be. And yeah, you love her immensely because she truly is the only person who never expected you to be her. There’s so much resentment but an equal amount of love within you for your sister.
And while Heeseung has no idea of this resentment you have rotting in your chest, you also have no idea that Heeseung believes the one thing you hold over your sister is the fact that you’re just her, except, well…younger, hotter, wilder, prettier, more inexperienced. Cuter voice. Snarkier attitude. Open, and perhaps, willing.
If you knew that, perhaps Heeseung calling you pretty as if it’s his natural born right would become something different in your head. Perhaps you’d want to live in your sister’s shadow just once more. Why not try and take what your sister has? Wouldn’t that be fun?
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
What a fucking bummer, Heeseung thinks, as he sits on one end of the couch with you on the other. He’s watched you more than the movie at this point, but the clock is tick-tick-ticking, and you’re just sitting there pushing through the horrors with a smile. Something's got to give.
Your sister comes home in three hours, leaving space for just one more movie and he is truly determined to score this win if it’s the last thing he does. The worst part? Morals don’t mean shit if you want him to fuck you.
If there’s one thing Heeseung hates more than losing, it’s one-sided attraction. He knows he’s not the problem, you are for not looking at him long enough. You are for not even considering that he could fuck you better than anyone in all of those porn accounts you follow on twitter. Not that he stalked it or anything (he did.)
And that’s why, as his stare becomes darker, he stands up and scratches the back of his head with a sigh.
“I’ll be right back.” He says, watching you wave him off as if you were totally paying attention to him.
That’s going to change right the fuck now.
He heads to his shared room with your sister, stepping into the walk in closet and examining himself in the wall length mirror before sighing.
Goddamn, he really stopped caring about how he looked once he finally got between your sister’s legs and locked her down. It’s no wonder you gave his friends more attention that night than you’ve ever given to him. He inspects his hair, messy and frizzy from his hoodie being pulled over and off of his head throughout the day. The cowlicks in the back leaving nothing to your imagination in regards to when the last time he washed the fucked-up locks was.
He sighs at himself, licking his palm and trying to tame the cowlick. God, a shower right now would seem ridiculous because he’s supposed to be on the couch with you, standing up the gore and death on screen so your hand will accidentally touch his dick or something.
No good. He needs to backpedal a little bit with his confidence, probably. He steps out of his room, taking his hoodie off at the same time. He rolls the sleeves of his t-shirt now, wanting to at least reveal his shoulders and arms to you. Wanting to parade himself around the house until you drip for him.
“Hey.” He walks back into the living room, still rolling the last bit of his left sleeve up and over his shoulder. “Can you pause the movie for like ten minutes and throw a pizza in the oven or something?”
You look up at him and the way he seems like he’s thinking about something far off from any situation that’s currently happening.
“Yeah, sure.” You nod, reaching for the remote and pausing the movie. “We could just keep watching while the pizza cooks though.”
He chuckles, knowing you’d say that and not at all having an excuse.
“I need to take a shower.” He dead-pans, as if it’s not sudden or weird that he’s decided to rudely interrupt the last movie of the night with a shower that could definitely wait.
“Just shower after we finish the movie.” You roll your eyes, still standing to your feet and heading towards the kitchen. “It’s not like your stink will get any worse in the matter of a few hours.”
Oh, so now he smells bad?! Is that why you aren’t into him?
“Or you could stop complaining and make the fucking pizza.” He snaps for the first time with a tone that indicates you should probably listen and do as he says.
“God, what’s your problem?”
“My problem? What’s yours?” He shoots back, far too annoyed that you play hard to get like this. There’s no way you seriously aren’t getting it. “You’re the one sitting around like you’d rather be doing anything else.”
You press the preheat button on the oven, and look at him shocked. Are his–feelings hurt? Are you really acting like a bitch, or uninterested in getting to know the man your sister will probably spend her life with?
Were you really acting like you weren’t having a good time? God, you must be such a drag.
“What? I was having fun, Heeseung, I like watching movies with you.” You try to explain, but he cuts you off.
“Fucking act like it then.” He gripes before turning on his heel and leaving you alone in the kitchen.
It’s not like you knew he expected you to be interested in friendship with him or anything. You were just…hanging out. You really didn’t know it was supposed to go differently in his head, and the fact that it appears that he does have a specific expectation? You wonder how to fulfill it.
After all, you’re trying to avoid showing all the interest you actually have for him when you’re hanging out. It’s what you’re supposed to do, right? And well, by the time he’s out of the shower and presenting himself to you, you think you might have a better idea as to what he’s thinking. Is he trying to impress you right now?
You can smell his cologne mixed with a minty scented shampoo. His hair looks blow dried. His skin is glistening, and he’s fucking shirtless.
He watches when he sits down, this time closer to you on the couch presumably so you could share the pizza sitting on the coffee table just in front of you then he checks the clock. Only about thirty minutes wasted out of the remaining time he has with you alone, and then he checks you. Staring. Damn right.
To you, he looks different.
Not just handsome, or kind of endearing in a loser way. But he actually looks sexy sitting there, with those loose gray sweatpants leaving nothing to the imagination in terms of size, and his exposed torso makes it harder to keep your eyes to yourself.
His broad shoulders seem to accentuate his neck much more than you imagined considering you never have seen him lounge around like this, and his hair is no longer dented. It’s washed, fresh, and looks fucking good on him.
Then, his smirk. It’s permanent on that knowing face of his.
“What are you looking at?” He side eyes you, totally ignoring the pizza because he wasn’t actually hungry.
He feels a victory welling up in his chest at the way you look at him though, seeing you already get so flustered? So easy.
“Um,” You pause, tearing your eyes away in embarrassment. “Nothing.”
He chuckles once in a short breath before stretching himself back against the couch cushions, spreading his legs wide and taking dominance over the space in the room.
“Didn’t seem like nothing.” He flirts easily, testing the waters of how willing you are to admit that he’s getting his way. “You were checking me out.”
You face forward now, shifting closer to the arm of the couch and pretending like you can't feel the warmth of the hot water he must have used radiating off of him.
“Of course not!” You laugh nervously, lunging forward for the remote again. “Why would I check you out?”
Heeseung rolls his eyes at your shitty attempt to lie.
“Because I took my shirt off for you.” He says, turning his head to look at you with a malicious smirk. “Was that not obvious?”
You turn to look at him in surprise. Why the fuck would he even say that to you?!
“Do you like me better this way? Half naked?”
“What are you talking about?” You avoid him like your life depends on it, not wanting to admit that you definitely find him more attractive right now than you ever have, and the fact that he’s talking to you like this only further pushes you to want what you can’t have.
“You think I’m hot, don’t you?” He presses, bouncing his leg and keeping his eyes on the way your chest heaves at his words.
“You want me, don’t you?” He continues pressing, repeating the question in a way that makes you feel forced to agree with him.
“You’re gonna think about me the next time you–”
“Heeseung!” You shout, turning your entire body towards him with heat searing on your cheekbones. “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re dating my sister.” You try to bring both him and yourself back to reality with that statement, more upset internally at the fact that you’re right about it.
He’s dating your sister and yet, he’s…doing this. To you. And you fucking like it?
“Yeah, no shit.” He laughs you off, looking down at his lap and feeling a twitch at the way you don’t leave the room. Proving in some way that you definitely like it. “And I’m still right, aren’t I? You’re just playing hard to get.”
You stare at him, dumbfounded and utterly shocked by his blatant attempts to come onto you. Unfortunately, you’ve never been in this situation before and your eyes tell on you the same way your body language does. Of course he’s right, and you know you’re doing a terrible job of hiding it.
“Ah, Yeah.” He smiles, watching how you try to keep your eyes on his face but failing. “I’m right.” He continues, lifting his ass just slightly to accentuate the shape of his cock under these sweats for you to get a good eye full.
You swallow, looking away from him and squeezing your legs together. It feels like such a sudden change of atmosphere. What was once a deniable crush on him becomes a confusing whirlwind wet panties and zero morality.
Does he get off on trying to rile you up? There’s no fucking way he’d actually go through with any of this. He’s just doing it because he thinks it’s cute that you want him. Right?
You know for a fact that if Jay talked to you this way, you would have let him do whatever he wanted to you. But this is Heeseung. Not Jay, not Jake, not Sunghoon, with their shitty attempts at trying to pull off the exact thing. Oh god, this is bad. This is so bad.
“I’m going to my room.” You swallow around the thick words, not at all wanting to leave the room solely because your body is giving in instantly to the fact that Heeseung is dirty talking to you for no goddamn reason.
Perhaps it’s the fact that the one thing your sister has that you shouldn’t ever be able to obtain is doing this. Never did you think a mere idea that he’s attractive would turn into a split second decision of wanting him to fuck you.
“No, you’re not.” He chuckles, spreading his legs a bit wider now and looking down at his lap, the same exact spot your eyes are looking at. “You’re going to try and keep your eyes on the screen, and we’re going to finish this movie.”
Safe to say, that was a harder demand to follow than you anticipated and he seemed to fucking love raising his brow at you each time he caught your eye on him.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
By the time your sister returned home and essentially tamed her boyfriend from acting out any longer, you felt…insane. She tamed him without even knowing that he was acting out, not double-taking at all when she walked in to him spread out and shirtless on the couch with you struggling to watch the movie. You felt his confidence radiating, making the living room feel suffocating and unstable in terms of if you belong there or not.
You find yourself in your room now, cuddling up in your bed with thoughts ruminating on how you have not one, not two, not three, but four men throwing themselves at you. You don’t recall ever actually giving them the idea that this is okay. Or maybe you did? You’re not sure.
You scroll through your text messages, old friends from back home falling into the background each time you open a message from Jake, or the other two that consistently check in with you like you’re some sort of prize to be won.
Maybe you want to be a prize for some handsome guy to flaunt though, and you embody all of that confidence you got from, somehow, having the one man you’re not supposed to ever obtain parading around for you.
You embody it to text back. To be bold. To give in to the arousal that just slammed you in the gut, reeling from the very idea that there are men in this world who want to fuck you and you’re about fed up with pretending it’s a lie.
You: are you done with your game?
You send the same message separately to all three of Heeseung’s friends, and somehow you’re still unaware that they all three share the information with each other in discord.
“Are you done with your game?” Jake mimics in a feminine tone. “She’s playing with all of us.”
Jay chuckles through the mic, damning them to be second and third place as he quickly texts back.
Jay: no, but I can be. Why?
“To be fair, we’re kind of playing with her too.” Sunghoon cuts in, responding in his own way to your text and telling you that he’s bored, that he’s waiting on you to give him a date and time to pick you up, that he’s annoyed with his friends.
“Well, yeah!” Jake bellows through the muffled mic. “I mean, look at her.”
“Oh, I’ve looked.” Sunghoon smiles at himself before snapping his eyes to the discord and noting how Jay has muted himself.
“That mother fucker.”
Jake follows suit, noting exactly what Sunghoon is calling out before lending a groan of his own.
“He’s trying so hard.” He rolls his eyes, knowing for a fact that Jay is probably already mid text-conversation with you.
And he would be right, as you lay against your pillows and let Jay’s conversation overpower the two other unopened texts from his friends.
You: im a little overwhelmed right now, not sure how to explain it.
Jay: overwhelmed how?
You: well…
You take a second to yourself to breathe, feeling your entire body radiate with a feeling that can only resemble that of want, or perhaps need. You’ve sexted multiple times in your life, but never in a situation where you’re sexting because you’re overwhelmed more than just aroused.
It’s the fact that you’re bringing it up this time after playing uninterested since any of them started texting you. You’ve dodged Jake’s dick pics, you’ve pushed off the date you agreed to go on with Sunghoon, and you’ve even gone as far as telling Jay you’re not interested at all.
Now though? You can imagine what he’d think of you to see you bring it up. Do you care though? Not that much. After all, you’re single, you’re consumed by the ability to do whatever you want, and Jay’s hot.
You: im frustrated.
You: REALLY frustrated.…sexually
Jay: oh yeah? for me?
You stare at the screen, sending him an emoji that confirms your words for a third time before swiping away and looking at your inbox of available men. You know who else is hot? Sunghoon.
You: hey if we went on a date, where would you take me?
Sunghoon: probably a movie or something idk, why? what would you wanna do?
You: id wanna go to your house
Sunghoon: and why is that, cutie?
And as you pick up conversations with both men, reeling from the attention, you think…hmm, you wanna know who else is hot? Jake.
You: Jakeeeee
Jake: whaaaat :)
You: remember that dick pic you sent to me then begged me to delete because it was an accident?
Jake: …
You: i didn’t delete it.
Jake: you like it?
You: maybe.
And you guess this is who you are now, plotting and setting up some form of sexting situation with three different men, who are all very close friends, who all very much seem to reciprocate your advances.
It’s actually pretty cool, as you lay here reading words from a different man every two minutes. Jay telling you exactly how he could help you with that frustration, Sunghoon asking you to explain what you’d wanna do in his house with him, and then Jake blatantly sending his cock to you again like he has nothing better to do.
It’s all fun and games until things start to get real heated and you get kind of into it. Focusing on Jay’s little message of, “im helping you out here, you should help me too. send pics.”
You ask yourself why you consider doing it before swiping away and landing on a video of Jake, face bright and smiling before lowering the camera. Blatantly fucking himself just because you said he had a nice dick.
Your body is feeling permanent goosebumps because of those two, overwhelming you more than you could have imagined to see just how far they’d be willing to go to try and convince you to do the same for them.
Sunghoon brings a different form of arousal in his inbox though. Far more tame than the others, asking you to push, telling you to say all of the dirty things rather than him. Pushing for a date.
Sunghoon: keep talking to me like this, ill come get you right now.
You: not yet, just this for now.
Sunghoon: no pressure, are you touching yourself at least?
You: I am
Sunghoon: yeah? thinking about me too right?
You: yea
You’re lying. Kind of. Half-lying, at least, because you are thinking about him but you’re also thinking about Jake, and Jay, and sending nudes, and– Heeseung.
You’re thinking about Heeseung, and only because you can hear the shuffling in the room a wall over. Then? Thumping, right behind you as you lay in your bed. At this moment, you should be able to focus on the men blatantly trying to fuck you, but instead you’re reminding yourself of how Heeseung looked earlier.
And you’re listening. Thumping, thumping, thumping, until you hear–
“Don’t cover your mouth, she’s probably asleep anyway.” You hear Heeseung bellow out in a far-away voice.
Great. They’re fucking. Just fucking great. Well, now what? You think, as you thumb back and forth between messages with frustration.
Your mind reels as you listen though. Imagining Heeseung more than anything being the force behind those thumps on your wall. His voice almost croaked when he regarded you directly to your sister while fucking her. Why can’t you stop thinking about him? All it took was a single day of marathoning movies?! A single shower?!
God, you’ve got to seem desperate to be reacting this way. He probably thinks that shit is funny. And as you now shove your headphones in your ears so as to not hear anymore of it, you stand on your feet and walk to your bathroom. You’re too interested in being fucked now, might as well give the boys something to look at, right?
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
“She really is trying to get away with it.” Sunghoon says, dumbfounded by the receipts provided by all three boys in their own private group chat.
Without Heeseung.
“Yeah, but she sent me an ass pic.” Jay boasts, smiling to himself and silently saving the other provided images that you sent to his friends.
“Whatever, I’m picking her up today for what she wants to call a “date”. She literally said she wanted me to pull her hair.”
Jake gasps, offended.
“What the fuck? She said she wanted to pull my hair!” He groans. “Why am I the one she thinks would like that?! I have a big dick! I could–”
“Anyway,” Jay cuts him off. “She really is just like her sister. Heeseung doesn’t even know how I’ve seen his precious girlfriend’s pussy, only a matter of time before I’m seeing her little sister’s too.”
Sunghoon rolls his eyes, ignoring Jake’s huffing and puffing as he does his best not to laugh at Jay’s almost victory over your sister.
“Well, I’m getting the girl this time.” He says, opening his texts and reading through the presumed masturbation session he shared with you last night. “Said she couldn’t wait to see me.”
“I’m sure she could though.” Jay says, competitive, wanting to win. “You’ll see.”
Sunghoon can sense the competition in the air, knowing that Jay is probably coming up with some lame ass plan to get in your pants before he can even get the chance to pick you up tonight.
And then there’s Jake.
“You know, maybe she’s right.” He rambles on, thinking hard about how your dynamic with the other two seems to differ greatly from the way you speak to him. “I do have better hair than both of you combined.”
And they stay like that, roasting each other while simultaneously lusting over the same girl until Heeseung gets online and pings them in the regular group chat for a round of gameplay.
“What’s up, virgins?” Heeseung greets, booting up his game and noting the silence in the voice chat.
“I said, what’s u–”
“We heard you.” Sunghoon chimes in, preparing himself for a direct mission of humbling the fuck out of him. “Call me a virgin all you want, doesn’t change the fact that I’m getting my dick wet tonight.”
“Please.” Heeseung laughs, rolling his eyes as he waits for them to get into the game lobby. “Who would stick your dick in them anyway?”
“Your girlfriend’s little sister.” Sunghoon announces.
Excuse me?
“In your dreams.” Heeseung tries to laugh, but is interrupted yet again by his two other friends laughing first. “Wait, you’re serious?”
Sunghoon hums a confirmation, which leads Heeseung to wonder what the fuck happened in the span of one single night. He could have sworn he had you in the palm of his hand on that couch. He knew you heard how good he fucks your sister.
There’s no way.
“Nah, she’s already got a crush on someone else.” He continues to brush Sunghoon off. “And it’s not you.”
“Yeah, because it’s me.” Jay laughs, bombarding Heeseung with another low blow. “Why else would she take her shorts off for me?”
Anger? Yes. Jealousy? Also yes.
“Bullshit.” Heeseung calls out, staring at his discord and the way his friend’s names light up every time they laugh.
“What are they trying to do, Jake? Spill.”
Jake silences his laughing.
“Oh, you think he didn’t get nudes too?” Jay laughs harder. “She sent them to all three of us last night. Different pictures too, she wasn’t skimping on the goods, I can tell you that much.”
Heeseung takes a moment to breathe through his nose. “And just why did she send you nudes?”
“I didn’t even ask for them, Hee, honest!” Jake tries to get on his good side. “I guess showing her my dick did something for her though.” That did not get him on Heeseung’s good side.
“Why the fuck is she sending you guys nudes?” He asks again, this time slightly raising his voice.
You should have been sending him nudes to prove your insatiable lust that you must have. Right? Like, why not him? If anyone?
“Oh, right.” Sunghoon finally reveals the truth. “First person to fuck her wins.”
“Is that so?” Heeseung leans back in his chair, crossing his arms with narrowed eyes at their stupid usernames.
Competition is what he’s best at.
“Yeah.” Sunghoon confirms. “And by the end of the night, I’ll be the winner.”
“That’s what he thinks, anyway.” Jay snickers. “She’s already texted me a cute little good morning like she didn’t sext three guys last night.”
“Mhm.” Jake hums into the mic. “Me too.”
Sunghoon tilts his head in confusion at that, now checking his phone and noting that he hasn’t received his own good morning from you yet. Weird.
“You guys are aware that you can’t do that, right?” Heeseung chimes in, knowing that he’s playing their game now. And he’s good at playing games. “You seriously can’t be trying to rail my girlfriend’s sister.”
“Yeah. We are, actually.” Jay overtakes the conversation. “Besides, she wants it.”
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
You wake up feeling insanely embarrassed by how you acted like night.
Tonight’s date with Sunghoon probably won’t happen. There’s no way you can live up to the confidence you showed him.
You: hey can we raincheck?
Sunghoon: no wtf?
He reacts negatively, because his victory is now being ripped from his hands by the prize herself. It’s not even just like, the fact that he wants to fuck you just to say he did it before anyone else could. It’s the fact that you’re kind of cool. Incredibly hot, and super willing to slut yourself out.
Just his type. He loves being able to tame girls and keep them locked between his legs, with his cock in their throat.
You: sorry i just don’t feel good today, can try this weekend?
Sunghoon sighs, sending you a short approval before focusing back on the intense game playing out on his screen.
“She canceled on me.” Sunghoon complains, shooting a player dead between the eyes before crouching and running off to find his next kill of frustration. “Jay, what did you fucking do?”
Jay snorts, smirking on his end of the screen, camping like an asshole in a bathroom and waiting for some unsuspecting dad of six to run by and get his cheeks clapped by some idiot with the username of DADDYJAY02.
“Told her I’d fuck her real good if she cancels.” He jokes, mostly focused on the current game at hand.
Heeseung is pleased to learn that you’re skipping the date though, leading him to believe that maybe he was right in thinking he’s got you in the palm of his hand.
Still doesn’t change the fact that you’ve got nudes in your phone. Nudes that you sent to three fucking losers that couldn’t even come close to doing what he could do for you.
“He’s talking shit. She hasn’t left her room all morning.” Heeseung says. “I already told you guys that she has a crush on someone, and it’s not any of you. So, you can go ahead and kiss your bullshit sex-game goodbye.”
Jake pipes in now, listening to the sheer amount of confidence coming from Heeseung and Jay.
“I dunno.” He breathes, picking people off one by one in his own, less-than-great playstyle. “She’s still texting me and being all cute. Maybe she just thinks you guys are weird.”
“What did she say?” Heeseung asks, now more focused on what Jake might say rather than the fact that Jay just got downed and needs help.
“Something about how she feels embarrassed about everything but likes talking to me, heart emoji and all.” He says in a nonchalant tone, now being downed himself in game. “Me and Jay are down.”
“Stay down then.” Heeseung scoffs, ignoring both dying friends as he focuses on the win.
“Dude, fucking pick me up.” Jay now argues, throwing his hands up at the gameplay, watching Heeseung blatantly run straight past him. “Heeseung! Pick me the fuck up!”
He snickers in response.
“Stop trying to fuck her and I’ll pick you up.”
“I’d rather die.” Jay argues back, accepting his in-game death and instead pulling his phone out to text you. “In fact, I’ll text her right now.”
Sunghoon, listening to the chaos and still neck-to-neck in terms of kills with Heeseung, tries to ignore the fact that he’s losing the only game he cares about winning right now.
“All three of you are starting to get annoying.” Sunghoon mumbles into the microphone, killing the last remaining player and stretching his arms out in a sigh.
“You’re just mad because she’s ghosting you for me.” Jake sings out happily.
Heeseung listens, seething in his head about how they’re really just gonna keep doing this shit and decides, fine.
He’s already playing the game they’re playing. He’s been playing it for much longer, actually, with those panties he took from your dresser when he built it. With the way he placed your bed against the same wall his bed is against, just so you could listen and suffer for his cock to stuff you full instead.
If it’s a fucking competition they want, they’re gonna get it.
And with that? He logs off without so much as a goodbye before heading to his bathroom. For the first time in years caring more and more about how he dresses and carries himself just to see you want him.
He styles his hair, brushes his teeth, perfects his hair with the hood up on his hoodie, and then heads straight to your room.
“Hey, Sunghoon said he’s supposed to be going on a date with you tonight.” He says as soon as he gets to your door.
You look panicked.
“Oh, he told you?” You say, avoiding eye contact with him because goddamn does he look good today but also, what the fuck Sunghoon?!
“Yeah.” He answers in a less than entertained tone.
“Did he–” You pause, now looking at him and his stupid attractive stance against your door. “–say anything else?”
“Oh, he told me all about it.” He admits to you now, loving the way you curl into your own embarrassment. “I did warn you, you know.”
You blink at him, wanting to hide from the entire situation. Especially because the only reason you went for his friends was because he got you all choked up.
“Still, I thought you’d tame yourself a little bit. I mean– Jay too? Really?” Heeseung starts to pick you apart with the information he’s learned today. “And Jake?”
You groan out, covering your face with both hands.
“God, I don’t know what I was thinking.” You try to explain. “I just–”
“You were wet.” He answers for you, smiling at the way you try to run from the truth. “So wet for me that you ran to my friends?”
Only now do you move your hands from your face and look at him. Shocked that he got straight to the point, and is entirely correct.
“You got their hopes up, you know.” He continues, taking control of the situation as he crosses his arms and leans his head back and against your doorframe. “Right after getting my hopes up.”
“What are you–”
“You know what I’m talking about, and you know exactly what I’m doing.” He cuts you off, speaking for you, thinking for you, not letting you get a word in to doubt a single thing he’s saying. “You know what you’re doing too. So, look at me next time I come in here and call you out on your bullshit.”
Your eyes stay on him, full of embarrassment and a sense of guilt. You feel scolded, which is so fucking wrong and weird for it to come from him of all people.
“Time to stop pretending now, babe. If you want this–” He says, looking down between his legs and grabbing his bulge. “You’ll stay away from my friends.”
And then he just…leaves with a smile? Doesn’t even let you respond?
“I’m going to the store, we don’t have shit to eat in this house.” You hear him complain as he walks down the hallway, acting as if he didn’t just word-fuck you with the truth that you weren’t quite ready to accept.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
You’re losing it. Truly, you’re losing every ability in your body to ignore the fact that you not only think about Heeseung in ways you shouldn’t, you want him in ways that should be a fucking crime.
Seeing him grab himself like that in your doorway? Fuck, if he hadn’t of walked away right after, you very well may have found yourself with your ankles up by your ears, begging him to use it on you.
No self restraint at this point, and you don’t even care.
Your phone is long forgotten as you pace your room, wondering if you should leave the house too, just to find a sex shop that has a Heeseung sized and shaped cock for you to fuck yourself on in order to get this intense feeling of need out of you.
That’s really all it took for him to make you go fucking feral for it? A little bit of flirting? A little bit threatening? A grab of his cock, practically dangling it in front of you like the two of you are allowed to be having those kinds of moments together?
Fuck him for knowing how to get you horny more than you know how to do it yourself. Since when did you like men to act that way towards you? Since fucking when did you get off on a boyfriend that your sister intends to fucking marry?!
It’s so fucked up, and it’s equally fucking hot to you because it’s fucked up.
Out of everything your sister has that you don’t, Heeseung is the one you want most. And he’s just fucking…he’s just–
God damn it. You sigh, pacing back and forth, checking the time on your phone and ignoring all of your unread texts. Heeseung has only been gone for a total of ten minutes and it feels like you’ve been pacing for hours.
Throbbing between your legs at the small glimpses of his size under whatever pants he wears. With his hair, and his skin, and his stupid, shit-eating smirk that he throws at you. Telling you he knows. Showing you that he likes it.
You stop your pacing for a moment, squeezing your eyes shut tight to try and flutter the images of him out of your head. Trying to get the reality to come back to you.
What’s fucked up is that it is reality that he’s doing this to you. You can’t avoid it like it’s a guilty little wet dream you’d be able to hide.
It’s real.
And, well, fuck it. You love your sister just as much as you always have, even as you want to fuck her boyfriend. Even as her boyfriend seemingly wants to fuck you.
Even as you leave your room, entering their room for the first time.
Even as you inspect their bed, the placement suspiciously right on the other side of your own bed against the wall.
Even as you smell the familiar scent of Heeseung on one of the pillows and instantly throw yourself on the bed against it, shoving it between your legs in a desperate and obvious show of how much you really, really, fucking want it.
And if this is what it feels like to lose your fucking mind? So be it.
His pillow is soft, offering little pressure to your clit as you writhe against it, but you moan louder than you ever have while pleasuring yourself. For once, the house is empty and for once, you have a point of arousal that doesn’t involve porn.
Your mind falls into images of him, and the way he moves his body during every day instances. Then, to the way he sounded when he fucked your sister in this very same bed. He must fuck hard, because that consistent thumping on your wall seemed to prove it already.
Fuck, you hope he fucks hard.
You saw the outline of it a few times by now too, so big even while flaccid and uninterested in you. He must know how to contain himself too. Real calm, real collected when it comes to how he’d probably use it.
The images swim up and down behind your eyes as you writhe your clit against the corner of his pillow for what feels like ages, knowing your panties are being pushed into the folds of your wet core, feeling your shorts skew as you move, back and forth, stretching with each grind forward.
You’re aware that parts of your pussy are out in the open between grinds, feeling the soft material of his pillow rub you only slightly raw with the force of your movements, and you simply don’t care. You’re home alone, remember?
Wait. How long have you been doing this again?
“Oh, fuck yeah.” You hear from behind you, startling you into a defensive position of curling around the pillow. “Bumping it real good, weren’t you? Right up on my pillow?” Heeseung laughs, standing just inside of the room with a step much quieter than he’d normally have when he’s walking around.
“Fuck, that’s so gross.” He snickers with hooded eyes and a triumphant smirk as he crosses his arms.
“You really thought I wouldn’t find out? Like I wouldn’t be able to smell it? I smelled you when I walked in.”
God, the fucking horror that replaces the arousal hits you harder than you ever knew it could as you jump to your feet on buckled knees and try to mutter out an apology.
“I’m sorry.”
He just said you were gross. He said he could smell you while scrunching his nose.
“I’m sorry, Heeseung, I’m sorry.” You continue, trying to make your way past him ultimately so you can lock yourself in your bedroom to never come out.
“Hmm, what makes you think you could just come in here and fuck my things?” He isn’t going to let you go that easy, of course he isn’t.
The thing about him is, he knows he’s got you now. That little sex bet going with his friends? They’re done for.
Full control of the whole situation is right here in the palm of his hand, and the proof is that embarrassing wet spot you left on his pillow. This was all he needed. You made him chase, and he’ll be damned if he gives you what you want now so easily.
It’s your turn to ache with the same feeling between your legs. You’re going to be fucking gone by the time he finally gives it to you.
“I thought y–” You try to explain, not looking him in the eye when he holds you in place by the arm from leaving.
“Thought I wanted you over her?” He mutters to you in a hot whisper, pulling you back and against him, dipping his head and chasing your line of sight to force you to look at him. “Oh my god, how sad.”
You try look away, entirely confused, embarrassed, fucking ashamed.
Never have you let guilt take you over like this because you’ve never allowed yourself to be in a position to feel so goddamn stupid.
He’s going to tell her what you did. You might as well go pack your shit now and get ready to go back home because this was not okay.
“I’m sorry. I misread…” You’re being forced to look at him, but you still keep your eyes on the bottom of his chin rather than his eyes, feeling his hands squeeze you, not at all noticing how rock fucking hard he is due to the sheer terror you feel at this moment.
“Mm, no you didn’t.” He explains, eyes scanning over your flushed face, tears prickling in your eyes.
And once again, fucking confusion. The weight of guilt lifts off of you at his words, allowing you to look him straight in the eyes this time. Urging him to tell you that he does want you. That everything you thought previously was true.
That he was trying to come onto you.
“You were throwing your legs open for just anyone.” He lands the blow harshly, with his breath hitting you square in the forehead. “I just wanted to see if you were really as slutty as Jay said you were.”
A direct blow to any confidence you ever could have had walking around this house.
You fell for it. Your sister is dating a piece of shit, and somehow you still find him so attractive. You still wish he was lying.
You still wish he liked you, or wanted you on some level.
“God, such a cry baby too.” He rolls his eyes now, breathing in deep before releasing his hold on you. “Go cry in your room, I’m sure you still have an orgasm to get, don’t you?”
You refuse the eye contact again as you try to walk away in a way that you wish could make you disappear. He’s making damn sure to shame you straight into the dirt, and it makes you feel so unclean.
“Don’t you?” He repeats with a louder voice as you walk away, stepping into your room, and closing the door behind you.
Yeah, you’re still probably going to get that orgasm. He knows it.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Heeseung is a nightmare to be around. You’re annoyed that you didn’t notice it before and actually wanted to be around him before that mishap with his pillow.
You can’t read him.
When your sister is home, he ignores you for the most part. He spends his time on his PC yelling with friends, he scoffs at you, looks at you like you look and sound ridiculous any time you say something, yet, when he’s with your sister, he’s so, so, loving.
All over her, really. Hands on her waist, back, thighs, ass. He’s so sexual with her in front of you, to the point that you can’t make eye contact at all with either of them.
To the point that you miss it every time when he checks to see if you’re watching.
What’s worse about Heeseung is that you think now that he has no interest in you. Everything he did really was for an ego boost, or like some shitty game he was playing. It got to the point that, yeah, you’re sexting at least one of his friends as often as possible despite never giving them a reason to come over, and certainly not going to see them yourself.
It’s like a bandaid as you lay in your bed night after night listening to Heeseung on the other side of the wall draw you into a state of lust, pining, and absent passion. So vocal, when he’s fucking her. You always feel alone when he does it, with your fingers slamming away and offering pleasure that never gets you there. You always come up short, never being able to get off.
Even with all of that, he still flirts.
Which fucks you up even more. He’ll make you feel so awful about everything that’s happened, everything you actively say or do, and then turn around and smile at you when your sister is at work.
He’ll offer to make dinner for you. He’ll do your laundry and fold it, always mixing his clothes into the pile by accident. He’ll touch your waist. He’ll brush his hand past yours when he catches you in the hallway while walking by.
When you try to flirt back, or look at him for too long though? Hope in your eyes and weight lifting from your shoulders at his hidden actions? He shuts you down instantly.
Like this morning, when you left your room and went to the kitchen to make coffee, he was already there. He came up behind you real close, rubbing what you presume to be his soft dick against your ass as he lifted and grabbed the filters down for you.
And when you choked up and looked at him? He could see that little glint of hope in your eyes.
“I was just helping. Jesus christ, you’re more needy than your sister.”
Or that time yesterday, when you were lounging on the couch and he came out after a shower in those same fucking sweat pants, without a shirt again, and sat down next to you. Spreading his legs wide, smirking, and watching you try to avoid his eyes.
“Can’t even look at me without getting wet, huh?”
Safe to say, Heeseung is playing the game with his friends a little too hard. Knowing that at any point during the day if he wanted to push you to the floor and take you, he fucking could.
So that leaves you now, sitting here feeling about as crazy as you did the day you ran into his room and started fucking his pillow. Every day is felt with sexual frustration that you don’t know what to do with, even sexting his friends, even receiving their videos and hot words, even with their promises of multiple orgasms and hour long sessions of head, your frustration isn’t satiated.
You worry it never will be if Heeseung doesn’t move out, or like, fall out a window or something.
And as you leave your room to go back to the kitchen for a snack, of course you note the open door of the office that is far too silent compared to thirty minutes earlier.
Of course, Heeseung has trained you to be entirely too curious about what he’s doing at all times when the two of you are alone.
Of course, you don’t turn and walk away the moment you see his back turned, shoulder moving, and a brightly colored hentai flashing across his monitor.
In fact, you stand there solely because you can’t deny yourself of this.
“Was wondering if you’d come in here.” He mutters through a breath, turning his face for a moment before pumping his hand harder. “S’only fair that I let you watch too, right?”
He’s bringing up the pillow incident. Again. Like he hasn’t brought it up a million times since it happened as a form of shaming you. Telling you how it smelled, laughing and asking how many times you planned to do it behind his back.
You’re still frozen though, coming to terms with the fact that he could call you an ugly whore and you’d probably accept it at face value just to watch the very scene in front of you.
Are you selfish or are you just desperate?
Maybe a bit of both.
“Come over here.” He says to your silence, now swiveling his chair around and ignoring the animated fuck-fest on screen.
You take in an inhale, trying not to show it by looking away from him, but ultimately failing when your eyes fall straight to where his hand is in his pants. The tent created by the sheer size of him leaving far too much for you to think about.
Anyone in this situation would call him a loser. Jerking it to hentai? Looking the way he does? Being unemployed and doing this at like, eleven in the morning? You can tell he hasn’t slept too, and that’s entirely something a simp would do. Something a virgin would do.
But, you want him. You’ve never been so attracted to someone, actually. He sees you swallow at the image too, smirking and stilling his hand.
“Shit, you’re really just going to watch me?”
Yeah. You figured that was obvious to him, considering he already thinks you’re gross, embarrassing, and shameless. It’s not like you not watching at this point would change his mind about you.
So, you just stand there, watching, waiting.
Until he gives you a breathless chuckle and a shake of his head.
“Come on, get a better look then.” He encourages you through a soft moan, sliding his fingers on the underside of his length, feeling the pre-cum drip out.
There it is again. Him acting interested.
It’s really the worst because you give in every single time, clinging to the hope that maybe he really is interested this time, only to be shot down time and time again.
Right now is no different from the countless other times he’s flirted just to laugh at you trying to flirt back. Even as you walk towards him with shaking hands gripping the bottom of your own shirt for comfort, you know he’s probably just going to pull his hand out of his pants and probably present a very large cucumber or something before laughing at the fact that you really thought.
Except, he doesn’t do that.
You can see the wet spot at the top of the tent his cock creates, right where the head rubs up against the fabric and it proves that he’s really touching himself right now.
“Lower.” He instructs under hooded eyes, head leaned back against his chair, body slouched and relaxed. “On the floor.”
Ah, the fucking power he has is electrifying. You really just do everything he says in the hopes that someday, he’ll put it in you. In the hopes that someday, he will show you what it is that your sister loves so much about him.
The way you do lower yourself to your knees on his floor, sitting right there in front of him with your eyes glued to the hidden act of what he’s doing to himself? God, you’re dirty.
He chews on his lower lip as he works himself up to the image of you simply on your knees, gripping your shirt like it’s the only thing holding you from falling off of the earth. So pretty, so complacent, so willing.
Fuck, he knows his friends want you and he can imagine that they must furiously get off to this very image themselves, thought up all by themselves. Except they’ve actually seen your body, Heeseung hasn’t seen shit.
“Take it off.” He says through a breath, the words shaking with each pump of his fist as he tries to stimulate the whole length of his cock without pulling it out.
It’s a tight fit in his pants right now, but he isn’t going to show you a damn thing.
You blink up at him, your eyes shining and bright at the fact that you’re fine not seeing it. You seem totally satisfied just watching him pleasure himself.
Oh god, you’re fucking perfect.
Even more perfect when you do remove your shirt, tits sitting nice and naked for him to stare at harder. Big. Plush. Prettier than the ones that are drawn to perfection by horny men on his screen just to the side of him. Prettier than your sister’s, even.
“Ah, yeah.” He comments, hand pumping faster, cock leaking more. “Just sit right there and look pretty for me.”
And, you do. Hands now pressed into the carpet beneath you, gripping the texture much like you did your shirt just to press your tits together for him. Just so he wants you right now, even if he won’t ten minutes from now.
He really does just watch you too. The image of you alone like this seemingly just enough to get him there when you notice his head slam back against the headrest of his chair again.
Bottom lip bitten, eyebrows raised, a held breath, and then he’s releasing that same breath along with his cum. All into his hand and against his pants as he pumps harder through the sensitivity of his orgasm.
Eyes falling back to you, darker this time, he smirks as he slides his hand from his pants, careful not to lose any of that thick, milky, cum, and tipping his fingers at you.
“Ahh-” He opens his mouth, speaking to you as if he’s feeding you a snack, and for some reason, you mimic it.
Your mouth opens as you lean forward and he slips his fingers in, relishing in the feeling of your frantic tongue licking up the taste of him.
So desperate, god, you want it so bad and he can see it.
He can feel it.
And by the time you’ve licked his fingers clean, eyes tearing up because you know he’s about to mock you for how much you loved the taste of it, he pulls his hand back and says nothing.
He doesn’t even smile at you when he stands up, staring down at you like he owns you.
You’re just sitting on the floor shirtless, avoiding his eye contact and preparing for whatever fucked up thing he wants to say about it, salty sweet remnants of his flavor in your mouth, and near tears in your eyes.
“You really did that.” He says before stepping to the side of you and heading for the door. “Swallowed all of it too.”
You did, and of course you’re ashamed despite sitting here wet and aching. You nod as you stare at the floor in shame, hands clasped in your lap.
“Good girl.” He breathes out to you before leaving for the bathroom, not another word muttered to you.
And as Heeseung stands looking at himself in the mirror, chest heaving as he reels from what just took place, he smiles. God, the horror you must feel right now. If you knew how much he liked this and how willing you were to take what you can get, you’d probably be the happiest girl alive.
You’re so willing to feel ashamed, so willing to be shamed, just to look at him? Just to see him do this? Just to suck all of his cum off of his fingers?
You’re fucking crazy.
If you knew how he silently jerked off, breathing in that pillow you had against your pussy, you’d probably orgasm on the spot. If you fucking knew how he stole your panties the very day you moved in, you’d probably give him the ones you’re wearing now just to please him.
Ah, so perfect. It’s only a matter of time now.
Only a matter of time before he wins and shuts his friends up for fucking good, because honestly, it’s getting old now to hear his friends pretend they have a shot at this with you.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Living with your sister became something you never meant for it to be. You’re not living with her, you’re living with fucking guilt, and confusion, and insatiable lust for the man she’s supposed to be pleasing every night.
In fact, the amount you see her is far less than you originally thought. She works so much, and when she’s not working overtime just to come home and love on her asshole of a boyfriend, and tell you sweet goodnights like you didn’t eat his cum off his fingers, she’s sleeping away the exhaustion of being the only good person in this house.
Unfortunately for her though, you don’t care.
You appreciate the freedom she’s given to you on a silver platter, with a nice new bedroom suite and good food in the fridge, but you know she didn’t bring you here with the intention of giving you this much freedom.
She gave you the ability to fuck and be fucked whenever and where ever you want, but the choice wasn’t meant to be Heeseung. With his ever changing moods, annoying gamer rage, and disconcerting need to flirt and shame you.
You can’t believe you’re sitting here across from her before yet another one of her shifts, drinking the same juice, eating the same breakfast, pretending like you haven’t tasted the same cum she has.
You can’t believe that while growing up, you always shared her stuff against her will. She hated finding you wearing one of her favorite tops, or her new pairs of shoes. She would get so mad and all you can think now is that, surely she would kill you if she found out what else you’ve used behind her back.
And when you watch Heeseung kiss her goodbye, he seems all too entertained with the situation. Watching you pretend like you don’t want him, watching your sister be blissfully unaware of who his dick twitches for.
Watching, watching, watching.
Staring, really, at you through the kiss. Up until she leaves for the day and you’re left staring back at him. Heeseung lends you a small wave with an uncaring face, wiggling the same fingers he fucked your mouth with in your face, almost seeming like he’s attempting to lure you to open those same lips again for him.
Almost as if to remind you that you’re pathetic.
And goddammit. You fucking are.
That’s why, of course, you’ve found yourself time and time again in these same text messages. Fully guilty of leading these guys on but not nearly as guilty as you feel each time you show how bad you need it to the one man who doesn’t deserve it.
Jay, if he could, would probably fuck you right on the doorstep by this point with the amount of nudes, phone calls, and blatant shows of sexual interest. You can sense how annoyed he is with cumming all by himself using your photos, but like, that’s very attractive of him to wait.
Sunghoon? So frustrated with you for never following up with him, but entirely willing to fuck you with his dirty words and images of what he’d love to do if you’d just get the fuck out of the house for a day.
And Jake, ah, Jake. The cutest. One you’d take all of this frustration out on, the one who would probably apologize to you for everything bad that’s ever happened to you mid-orgasm solely because he wouldn’t know what else to say or do when he’s feeling so good.
Sexting any of them, or all of them, is really your only relief from the man who looms around this house. But at this point, even that is doing nothing for you.
Even as you read Jay’s texts, knowing he’s actively playing video games at the same time and not jerking off like he claims.
Jay: take a new one, i want more material
You: you’re not even touching yourself, you know I can hear heeseung yell at you right?
Jay: what? you think I can’t multitask?
You: is that why he’s yelling then?
Jay: one handing it and still got more kills than him, yea
God, he’s too confident while being such a fucking loser, but yeah, you’ll send him a new picture. You’ll go ahead and send it to Jake too. And Sunghoon, of course.
Then you pause with your fingers on the screen, zooming in on your body and checking it. Only half wondering what would happen if you took a pussy picture. Only half thinking of sending it to Heeseung. Not the other three, just him.
Half wondering turns to full wondering, as you listen to him yell something about Jay going down again mid match, proving that he probably was, in fact, fucking his fist mid-game and absolutely not getting more kills.
Heeseung’s voice sounds so full of anger. So loud, cracking in pitch even. It’s hard to imagine someone sounding so stupid being able to act in a way that’s made you feel so lost and ashamed of wanting him.
Yet, he did. And that’s why you decide right at this moment, you’ll always give in to his flirting even while knowing he’ll mock you and make fun of you for it. You’ve already dealt with it to the point that you’re used to it. At least you still get something out of it, right?
At least, maybe, he’ll give you something else to feel ashamed of today, right?
And as you take that photo, lying back on your bed, shifting your panties to the side and spreading your lips open for the camera, you snap a photo of your hole for him. Right there, already wet just imagining him thinking you’re pathetic for doing this.
At this point, you’re not feeling too ashamed of it right now. After all, he jerked off looking at you like there wasn’t at least three holes being fucked and filled on the screen behind him before. So…
You send the photo to him, ignoring the displayed message from Jay stating, “you only sent this one to me, right?”
And then you wait.
And you wait.
And wait.
You can still hear Heeseung yelling his gaming talk, but you watch his text messages like a hawk. Feeling nervous, terrified, embarrassed, shamed, turned on, curious, wet.
Each time he’s silent, you stare at the messages, up until you notice that he’s opened it.
He saw it.
You wait for footsteps, you wait to hear him tell his friends that he’ll be back. You wait for him to stomp in here and call you gross.
And you wait more.
And more.
Up until you can’t wait any longer and you find yourself shifting up and off of your bed, leaving your phone behind as you make your way to the office. He’s facing away from you as usual, the character on screen on a swivel as the scope of the gun searches for a head to shoot, and then– his phone.
Right there beside him, open, the image pulled up.
“What are you trying to do?” He says, but you can’t tell if it’s for you or his friends.
You stand there, pussy looking much the same as it was in that photo, except now with your shorts back on you, and panties back in place.
“Trying to fuck me over right now?” He continues when a kill screen shows up and he’s got a few seconds to lift his hand from the mouse. Not even looking at you, he beckons you with two fingers and pushes his chair back just slightly.
By the time you get up beside him, he puts his fingers over his mouth, glancing up at you, then down at his phone and tapping it. Immediately after tapping, he points to the floor in front of him, scooting back more to make room for you.
The silent conversation is loud as he narrows his eyes at you when you sink to your knees on the floor in front of him. You crawl under the desk, legs quivering at the idea that he’s absolutely ignoring you, but also inviting you.
As if he’s feeding you what you want. As if he doesn’t need this too.
And maybe he doesn’t, you think, as you carefully reach forward to his knees, feeling him push his chair in and trap you under the desk. He doesn’t look hard, proving that he’s simply allowing you to quench your thirst for his cum, surely.
Allowing you to be pathetic.
Allowing you to see it.
And finally, you do. He’s even polite enough to lift his ass up a bit just to let you pull his sweats down to get it out. Slowly growing at the feeling of your breath against it.
You breathe deeply before you press your lips against it instantly, darting your tongue out curiously and closing your eyes to relish in the first taste of his skin. It’s a clean taste, and despite him not being fully hard for this just yet, it only drives you to do better, to do more, until he actually wants you to do this for him, not just for you.
You could argue that it seemed much bigger when he was jerking it off in front of you, then again, he’s still not fully hard yet.
It actually hurts your feelings that you’re the one needing to get him horny right now. After all, you are clearly hungry for it, not him.
And you take him into your mouth again, and again, feeling him stiffen by the second. Still, his focus isn’t on you or what you’re doing down here.
Until it is, anyway.
By this point, you’re actually struggling to take him into your mouth, and you can argue he’s only at half-girth as you try. The top of your head bumps his desk every few seconds, which forces you to keep him in your mouth.
Kind of terrifying actually, to have put something in your mouth so readily only to regret the fact that his cock is essentially locked in by the small pace you’re trapped in, and it’s only swelling up more and more by the second.
Hardening until your throat is constricting around it, forcing you to gag and search for breath.
It’s hard to breathe as you cough and drool around him, frantically trying to pull off of him and hitting your head hard against the desk when you do.
He fucking chuckles at it before you feel his hand slip under the desk with you and grab his now fully hard cock. What does he do with it? He fucking slaps it straight across your face before forcing it right back between your lips.
You hate to say how wet that made you, and you hate even more to say that you kind of like the feeling of your throat getting bruised. Willing yourself to gag around him again, trying to twitch your tongue against the weight of his far too big length in your mouth.
You don’t want him to laugh though, you want him to fucking moan. All for his friends to hear. After all, it’s the first time you’re going down on him and it’ll probably be the last time too, right?
Not to mention, you’ve barely had experiencing sucking dick as it is, he should he fucking helping you get through this.
But he’s not. He’s just…playing his fucking game. Hell, the twitches of his length against your gag reflex is probably more for the kill he gets rather than the way your dripping spit all over and down his balls.
This is embarrassing, and yet– you love it. You fucking adore it, with the way your clit aches just at the thought that he’s letting you put your mouth on him at all.
Maybe it really is for you, and not for him.
“Ah, fuck.” Heeseung groans, probably more to his game than to you.
His hand shoots under the table, right to the top of your head as his other balances himself on the seat of his chair. There, he holds your head down on him and angles his hips just slightly to fuck up. Gaging you repeatedly, holding back his own moans at the way you’re just going to let him use you like this.
And as quickly as it happened, that short grunt from him not going unnoticed, he’s drawing his hands back above his desk, relaxing his body, and giving back the control.
Already, you can hear his fingers against the keyboard again.
“Back in the game, Jay, to the right!” He shouts, showing you that he absolutely just fucked your face because he got fucking downed in the game.
And you continue, trying to give him that same feeling that he forced on you just now, and never quite getting the same force behind your lips or tongue for him. His cock is throbbing though, choking you with each dribble and spurt of precum, up until he’s pulling the same trick.
Fucking up, holding your throat down on him, for just a bit until he’s back in the game and playing.
This happens for what feels like forever. To the point that surely, you’re drenching the carpet under you, and you’re starting to feel insecure in the fact that he hasn’t cum yet. Are you really just…bad at giving head?
Heeseung’s legs shift as you continue, slowing your pace and trying to rub your jaw through it with your free hand that’s not gripping the fabric of his lowered sweats. You do this up until his cock is suddenly sliding further and further out of your throat when he rolls his chair back.
Ah.
Oh.
Oh, my god. You think, getting the first glimpse of his face since you started. Blown out pupils staring down under his desk, hair a mess, mic right up against his smirking lips.
He looks…like he enjoyed it? Maybe? Are you getting ahead of yourself?
“You want more?” He asks, straight into the mic and confusing his friends. “I can see how much you want it, baby, come on. I’ll give it to you.”
You stare up at him, pretending that when you crawl out from under the desk and try to stand, you can’t hear the way he turns up the volume of his friends responding in confusion.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” You hear the familiar voice of Sunghoon. “If you’re gonna fuck your girlfriend, at least mute yourself, dick.”
You nervously glance to his game that’s still full screened. You knew he was gaming with his friends since this morning, but for him to talk to you like this as if they can’t hear him?
“They’ll want to hear you.” He comments now, alerting his friends that he’s obviously not talking to them. “Trust me, they don’t fucking shut up about you.”
That’s when they realize.
“No fucking way.” Jake blurts. “There’s no way.”
Jay remains silent, staring at his unanswered text message before minimizing his game and dropping his mouth in surprise.
“Come on then, you already let me fuck that pretty mouth, might as well, right?” He says to you again, this time lifting his hips and tapping his desk. “Bend over for me.”
What you think is just an unmuted mic, unfortunately, is much, much more than that. You see, Heeseung likes to stream to his friends, back and behind his full screened game was the image of him suffering through your need to deep throat him half to death.
He remained calm, at first not exactly wanting his friends to know. Not wanting them to see you like this, and most certainly not wanting them to have any images of you to get off to. But now? Oh, to win their own game in front of them?
‘Fuck, look at that.” He says, watching you take the spot in front of him and bend over his desk, keyboard buttons pressing in and glitching the screen out momentarily due to your tits lying against it. “Now look up.” He instructs.
“No. Fucking. Way.” Jake blurts again once he minimized his game and instantly saw you on the camera, looking so out of it, so unaware. “Sunghoon, are you seeing this?”
Jay was still watching with his mouth agape, cock leaking as it always does for you except now? It’s the fact that Heeseung is really just gonna do something so awful to your sister? He’s really going to fuck you right here, right now? With proof?!
“Heeseung, don’t.” Sunghoon warns, unable to tear his eyes away from the screen in front of him.
“Don’t what? Sunghoon?” Heeseung smiles as he reaches his hands around the front of you, pulling you back by groping both of your tits. “Fuck your girl in front of you?”
You just listen, shocked that Sunghoon is actually asking Heeseung to stop. Shocked that they apparently have beef or something, over you? Surely not.
“No–” Sunghoon chokes back. “Don’t turn off the camera.”
“Camera?!” You panic, trying to break free of his grip on your chest, but he holds you there, pressing you closer with your back to his chest, his cock throbbing under your thigh.
“What? Now you have an issue with cameras?” Heeseung seethes sarcastic words into your hair, squeezing your tits harder now. “Relax, baby, I know they’ve already seen you like this.”
“Right?” Heeseung now directs his attention to the screen, lunging forward to quickly minimize the full-screened game, getting a good look at his friends and you in the camera against him.
The image is wildly attractive to him for many reasons. For one, he can see himself on the screen with his point of desire sitting right here on his lap. Secondly, his friends are awestruck by what he gets to have right now. Shamelessly watching, biting their words back, taking in deep breaths. And lastly, he can tell that everyone on camera right now either wants to be him or be fucked by him.
What’s not to love about this?
And Heeseung is quick when he flashes his eyes away from each of his friends, straight to you in the camera, watching you avoid looking at the screen. He moves one hand from your chest, pushes his chair back, and immediately cups between your legs.
“You show them this too, or was that just for me?”
You shake your head at Heeseung, reeling with embarrassment and arousal as you try to squeeze your legs closed around his hand. You feel choked up, throat sore, legs buckled, clit throbbing for him to dig his palm against it.
“Mm, you see that Jay?” Heeseung moves his eyes to his friend on screen. “Couldn’t even get her to show her pussy for you?”
Jay appears entirely tuned into the situation, eyebrows sitting furrowed and focused on you. God, if only he focused that much in game, Heeseung thinks he could probably out rank him if he wanted to.
“Jake?” Heeseung trails to his other friend, making sure each and every one of them hears and sees exactly what he’s doing.
Your eyes follow the names Heeseung calls out. Shyly, somewhat dazed. Tearing your eyes from Jay was already hard enough as is. After all, seeing his blatant attraction to you right there, in front of everyone? Maybe you should have let him hit, even just once because damn. It’s almost pitiful, that look in his eye as he watches you.
Jake on the other hand? You can tell he lets his hair fall partly in front of his eyes but he smiles to himself while watching. Something about seeing him like this makes you feel like you’ve just experienced extreme whiplash. It embarrasses you more knowing that you figured Jake was too inexperienced to know how to fuck a girl. He was too sweet.
Too soft.
Too different from his friends.
As you look at him now though, you realize he isn’t different at all. In fact, he might have been more full of shit than any of the others as you stare at his wicked eyes and nod of approval at Heeseung.
Hell, he’s even the one who mutters out a small, “Show us her tits.”
The only reason Heeseung does as Jake asked is because he can’t help but relish in the look on their faces of seeing what they could have had, but now never will. To see them lose. To witness him win.
They’re pathetic. Truly, when he drags your shirt up your belly and over your chest. Already braless, of course. And honestly, you’re shocked that they all react this way like you didn’t just send them tit pics but–
This is more embarrassing somehow. Four pairs of eyes are on you and only one pair of hands. You want all of their hands.
“I fucking knew you’d let me do this.” Heeseung chuckles against your ear, cupping his hands under your tits and presenting them to his friends. Bouncing them, rubbing them, pulling on both nipples before releasing them and letting your tits fall into their natural position. “Knew you were a slut the moment I saw the kind of panties you had hidden in that suitcase of yours.”
You glance away from the camera now, knowing Heeseung is right with his words.
“You should be fighting me, not dripping that pretty pussy all over me. Am I wrong?”
You should be fighting. You shouldn’t be okay with this moment being broadcasted to three different people that you’ve been leading on. And yeah, you should hate him for all of the confusion and mental anguish he put you through.
Yet, the arousal you have for him outweighs all of it. The arousal you have for this situation in general outweighs any shame you could feel, or the shame that comes after it.
Being wanted like this by four men who you find incredibly attractive?
“What more could a girl want?” You murmur in a hushed tone, rolling your hips just slightly on his lap, letting him feel the warmth of you seep into his sweatpants. His cock still hard and raging from your previous actions of choking on him.
Those words shock him as his eyes glance to the screen, noting how you’re writhing your body on him, totally shameless, totally fucking perfect with your tits out and on display, only pushing for more. It’s the fact that he fucking forgot he had his head set on for a moment and didn’t even catch that you whispered that shit straight into his mic.
He only realized it when he saw three faces on screen drop to a slack jawed expression and Sunghoon immediately leaned forward with a groan of “spread her legs.”
On any other day, for Heeseung, Jake, or Jay, seeing Sunghoon clearly push his pants down his thighs off camera would make them recoil and make fun of him. But they’re not right now, because the focus isn’t on any of the cocks being openly hard in this shared online space.
The focus is on you, and the way Heeseung absolutely spreads your legs and pushes your knees up by the thighs so that the flat of your feet are resting on his knees. There, he drops his hands from your tits and reaches around you, rubbing the line of your shorts on the insides of your thighs just enough that glimpses of your panties flash every few seconds.
From back here, the camera offers Heeseung the same view but it hits him differently because he’s the one doing it. He’s got his head resting on your shoulder as he watches, noting how you lean your head back against his own shoulder and breathe through his guided touches.
“Look at yourself.” He turns his head to whisper right against your cheek. “You’d let us all take a turn, hm? Wouldn’t even know which dick is in you.”
Your eyes open in a roll, landing your gaze on the screen and feeling flushed at the image. You don’t care how embarrassing or pathetic you are for this. No, because, look at them. Everyone wants you to act like this.
“Probably wouldn’t even care either, as long as you’re being fucked. Yeah, that’s right.”
Nodding in a daze against him, you roll your hips harder, trying to bump his hand against your pussy, trying to prove to everyone that you have three holes and two hands for a reason.
You don’t flinch when he slides his hands up the leg of your shorts either, pulling them to the side to reveal how wet you are to everyone. Listening to your body and the way it sings to him, brushing his knuckles against the swell of your clit, tapping the space where your hole sits and clenches to be seen.
“Ah, fuck.” Jay finally lets out in a shaky breath, hand clearly still working himself because, well, he was half hard before you made an even appearance on camera. “It looks like she pissed herself–”
Heeseung laughs as he drags his eyes to the image between your legs, so wet, entirely drenched through your nearly see-through panties at this point. Jay is right, it does look like you’ve pissed yourself, which only makes his cock throb more. That you’re so wet for him? So fucking drenched? God, he doesn’t even need lube with you.
You slick up so nice for him, it’s actually becoming painful not to test the stickiness, the slide it offers, the warmth. With this much pouring out of you, like you’ve already squirted, surely you could take all of him.
In an instant he pushes you from his lap, making you feel dizzy and light headed because suddenly you’re on your feet in front of him again. He gives you no time to balance yourself when he’s pulling your shirt up and off of you in a huffed out sigh, holding you in place by your tits to keep you from toppling over and breaking his monitor.
And when you steady out, his hands run straight down, shoving your shorts and panties down in one go before immediately pulling you back to his lap, holding your arms behind you, and spreading his own legs to force yours open for his friends.
“Take a good, long, look.” Heeseung directs towards his friends, sliding his hand in front of you and using two fingers to present your hole to them. “If you think she’s pretty, let her know now.”
It’s the way Heeseung moves his hand from behind you just to set his headset on your head now, quickly pinning your arms in place again and allowing you to listen to his friends do just that.
Immediately, pussy spread and unintentionally clenching in the camera, one of your senses is enveloped with the sound of Jay’s palm shamelessly dragging up and down his hidden cock. Then, the sound of Jake and his deep inhales paired with slight cracked whines, just as shameless, doing much the same.
Then, Sunghoon.
Fucking Sunghoon. Barely moving, but more willing to talk to you with that headset on your head.
“This why you didn’t come over?” He asks you blatantly in a breathy voice, glaring at the fingers of Heeseung holding your cunt open for him. “That could be me right now, but you’re really just going to fuck him? Of all people?”
You groan, lifting your head to give a proud nod and accidentally bumping Heeseung in the chin with the action.
The bump forces him to bite his tongue, a metallic taste of the small amount of blood flooding his mouth mixed with saliva when he dips his head, grabbing you by the hair and forcing your mouth to his.
You can taste the blood too, when he presses his wet tongue past your lips without so much as swallowing the mixture first. Practically drooling and spitting into your mouth through the rough kiss. It feels like your drowning, kissing him back like you’ve always wanted to, tasting him in a new way now and moaning into it.
Like a slut, really. Just fucking moaning. And he only forces more out of you too, as you feel him adjust his hands, holding you here on his lap, rough tongue bleeding against yours, sliding two fingers into you with one push.
God, finally. Fucking, finally.
Your mouth falls open in a sharp inhale of feeling his fingers, his lips turning to a smirk at hearing one of his friends audibly moan at the image on screen for them. You just showed how much of his saliva you were savoring, diluted red in the drool dripping down your chin through your moan.
You’re dirty, all four of them can see that much. But only Heeseung gets to feel it.
His cock throbs at the image when he strains his eyes to the screen, plunging his fingers in, out, in, out, until he pulls them from you entirely, thrusting them into your open mouth instead.
You squeal at the intrusion of his sudden fingers against your tongue, offering a third taste in your mouth. Yourself.
“Mhm,” Heeseung encourages you. “Suck it up like you did for me the other day.”
You hear Jake gasp at the idea that you’ve already done this for Heeseung before, probably leading him to believe that Heeseung has also probably already fucked you.
And hell, with how it’s looking, none of them would be shocked if that were the case.
“You’ve been doing this while talking to us?” Jake tries to confirm with you through a breathed sigh, groaning and unintentionally showing that he…wouldn’t mind.
“God, I don’t even want to fuck you now.” Sunghoon on the other hand, isn’t so willing and lies, absolutely wanting to be the person fucking your lips with his fingers. “After Heeseung? Disgusting.”
Oh, they think he’s fucked you already?
You shoot your eyes open, trying to shake your head in a “no” at them but still suckling around his fingers.
“Goddamn,” Heeseung grunts, rutting up against your back, letting his cock leave leaking little spots of his precum against your lower back. “Your sister would never act like this.”
“You should be ashamed, but you love it.” He continues, talking, talking, talking. Shoving his fingers deeper, deeper, deeper. “Work that tongue like a good girl.” He continues to whisper from behind you before–
You’re gagging. Feeling his fingers reach deep into your throat and press your tongue down to the point you’re forced to open your mouth wide. Exposing not only your finger-fucked pussy to his friends, but now your open and constricting throat.
Sunghoon immediately regrets his insult at you, seeing how wide and open your throat can be. Gagging openly with very little sound as Heeseung compresses your tongue through it.
You’re drooling again, eyes blinking up at the ceiling as if you could possibly find a way to drink away your tears.
That’s about as much as Jay can take, gripping the base of his weeping length, willing it to stop threatening him with an orgasm before Heeseung really gets you looking pretty. He chokes up through the mic, and the sound runs straight through your body.
There, he watches you moan through an open and dry mouth, throat muscles tensing just to get the sound out. He grips harder, needing to pull his eyes away but struggling so hard to fucking do.
“Shit, baby. Stop.” Jay calls through the microphone, forcing his friends eyes on him, yours included, as all of you watch him vibrate in his seat in an attempt not to cum. “Stop moaning.”
Heeseung hears him say it, and intentionally gags you again instead. Bumping his fingers at the back of your throat with a smile on his face. Glancing between all of his friends, seeing how pathetic they are for what he does to you.
The fact that they’re sticking around at all? Both great and fucking embarrassing. Even more embarrassing than you.
Then Heeseung focuses back on you, tears running down your pretty cheeks, mouth agape, throat struggling to adjust still to his fingers despite taking his cock like that’s the only shape or size it wanted.
Ah, your body is so pathetically telling, and he grants you the release of another gag by sliding his fingers out of your mouth and straight back to your warm, pulsing, hole.
Right back in, one hole filled at all times it seems, as he feeds into the whiplash he’s able to give you. You didn’t even notice how he shoves you off of his lap until you can no longer see the screen in front of you and are face to face with his keyboard. No frustrated face of Jay, no forced calm and collected expression from Sunghoon, no blatantly bitten lips of Jake.
No, only the feeling of Heeseung chasing your hole with his fingers, your hips running from the touch due to sensitivity and buckled knees. He holds you there against his desk, standing behind you and pressing his cock between your ass cheeks. Fingers roughly rubbing your clit, sliding down to fuck into you, then out again to rub you harder.
His friends watch you try to run your lower half away from him, but his eyes stay glued to the camera, as if he’s staring into the soul of his friends.
“You guys wanna see me fuck her?” He comments in a sly tone, cock grinding against you. “I can fuck her.”
“Ah, Hee–” You groan as a response, listening to the slapping of palms against cocks only grow more furious and finally relaxing your body to now search for his fingers, just to push yourself back on them. “Please.”
He snickers from behind you, grabbing a hand full of hair at the back of your head as he rips his fingers from your needy hole, wiping them along your cheek as he forces you to look at him.
“Again.” He demands, now pinching your cheeks with one hand, arching your back more by the pull of your hair. “Say, “Please, Seungie, fuck me.” He whispers into your mouth, loud enough for the mic to pick up the way you swallow around his words.
“Say, “Please, Hee, give it to me.” He continues, making his voice higher pitched as if to mock your moans.
Sunghoon watches and listens in shock, never once wanting to know that this is how his own friend fucks someone, but goddamn. It’s like he’s just found the video on page 86 of pornhub that hit just right as he watches. Fucking up and into his fist like his life depends on it, waiting, waiting, waiting, for you to moan out just like Heeseung is telling you to.
And it’s the fact that you fucking do, Heeseung watching the way Jake presses his entire body into his chair, staring down at himself with a fast moving palm, so fast that he can see his friend lose himself to the pleasure.
Jay, near tears in his eyes as he watches, probably moaning in your ear like a mad man right now.
You fucking say it.
You say both, moaning in a choked gasp when you feel him stick his tip in you at it.
“Please–” You hiccup as you try to repeat the words again and again for him. “God, yes.” You rasp out in a deeper tone at the feeling of him slide in.
And he keeps sliding in, trying to keep himself from rolling his eyes back when he bottoms out and feels your cunt clench him as if you’ll never let it go.
And then, one quick thrust, holding your hair in his hands, arching you harder, his other hand reaching for yours and holding them behind your back, he fucks forward.
Your tits bounce with the movement, neck strained to keep your eye on his face as you try to adjust to the full size of him entering you.
“She just takes it.” Heeseung grunts with a choked breath. “Shit, so goddamn tight.” He murmers again, nearly unable to stand on his own two feet how tight you are.
He forces you to look at him through it, squeezing your hands together so tightly through it that you can barely focus on the pain of your positioned body against the feeling of his cock splitting you open with each hard thrust.
And then, you let out the most filthy, wet, pornographic cry.
Heeseung then brings his attention to his monitor one last time, watching the pathetic mess of people in front of him getting off entirely on his cock driving into you.
“I win.” He says with one pointed thrust, keeping his hips pressed against your ass and only pressing in harder, trying to reach another inch in, trying to break past whatever wall inside of you keeps him from impaling you entirely on him.
All three friends burst into a feeling of realization, Jake already mid orgasm at the sound of that moan you just cried out–
Then theres….nothin but the feeling of Heeseung releasing your hands and allowing you to grip his desk through this deep hold of his length inside of you.
Suddenly, no sound through the headset, the light of the monitor in your peripheral vision goes off, and Heeseung is breaking his demeanor just to moan out in full again.
“Drove them crazy,” He chuckles through a wet groan, now snapping his hips back and leaning forward just to push back into you, deeper, deeper, until his desk ruts against the wall with the tight hold on you. “Driving me fucking crazy.” He whispers, holding his open lips right against your neck when he hunches over in this paused thrust.
“You looked so good.” He says again, suddenly praising you, suddenly able to relish in the pleasure he’s giving you rather than pretending it does nothing for him.
You blink away tears, feeling your twisted and turned body, still trying to look at him through this even if he’s released your hands.
He can see that look of realization on your face and smiles at that too before shooting his hands to your middle and forcing you back and against him.
He keeps his dick in you, too obsessed with the drag your walls offer to him, and holds you against him just to shift to the side and press you back on the misplaced couch in the room. Man cave stuff, and alla that.
You watch him guide you face first into the cushions before he is grabbing your hands again, holding them right back in pace behind your back with one hand, and the other pushing your face even further into the pillows.
“You have no fucking idea, do you?” He grunts, slamming into you again, eyes glued to the way your body strains to accommodate the position he wants you in. “How much better you are?”
Oh. Really now?
You smile through suffocated breaths, the fabric of the couch invading the taste of your own breath and forcing you to love it just as much. You bite down, listening to his spilling words.
“Begging me like that for my friends to hear, like you didn’t know I wanted to do this?” He continues, burying himself deep again and holding it there again. “Fucking my pillow instead of me.”
He seems a little more angry now.
“Turning my friends on when you wanted me,” He grabs your hair again, pulling you back into that same painful arch and forcing you to stare up at the wall. “All you had to do was ask, sweetheart, I would’ve given it to you every time.”
The reality that this is not your boyfriend is so far from you right now. The fact that your sister is working away right now to pay the light bill, gonna come home later and share a bed with this man? You’re not even jealous.
In fact? You’re on top of the world listening to him want you more.
And at this point, Heeseung can tell you’re smiling, looking blankly at the wall and totally lost from this world. This is exactly what he wanted.
Such a pretty little sister, winning him over the bitch that won’t even choke on his cock? It could have been so much easier for you. But this was fun for him, watching you want him and know you couldn’t have him.
Despite him proving that you could have had him any day of the week.
“All you had to do was ask.” He repeats into your ear, now slowing his pace until he pulls out.
He takes a step back, gazing at the way your open pussy still clenches for him, the way your ass shakes slightly with your legs.
“Aww,” He coos, blinking at you from behind and reaching forward to flip you over. “You wanted it so bad too, can’t believe you waited.”
You see him now, fully in person rather than through the image on his monitor. His skin looks so much more full of life, cheeks tinted and hair more fucked up than you’ve ever seen it. Cock huge, weighed against his leg.
You’re shocked you took all of it like that previously, unable to relish in the pain of it because your senses were overloaded with moans and his own boasting.
“Your sister doesn’t have to know.” He says now, eyes trailing your body.
“Ah–” You wince when he licks his fingers and lowers his hand to your clit, one hand spreading your legs out now that he’s got you on your back. “I really didn’t know.”
Heeseung chuckles, finding you entirely too cute and endearing as you look up at him with those fucked out lips trying not to quiver at your sensitivity.
“You were too dumb to take a hint.” He leans forward, now, using his hand to lift your leg up to your chest, rubbing his cock right against your hole as he pulls his other hand up now, propping up your other leg. “Too stubborn to realize.”
You nod in a slightly broken way, unsure of if you were the one putting yourself through torture, or if you really were too dumb to notice he was trying to get you to go insane for him.
He wanted you to jump on him. He wanted you to take it like this.
“And you won’t tell her?” You whisper now, losing the ability to think much more when he grinds himself down, keeping eye contact with you, that same smirk you both hated and loved.
He shakes his head at you, almost sweetly when he adjusts his cock to slide in again, knocking the breath out of you with a choked moan.
“She won’t find out if you can be quiet when she’s home.”
Oh fucking no. He wants to…continue this? This isn’t a one time thing? He’s going to try while she’s home? While she’s gone? Arguably, you’re fucking glad.
“When she’s–?” You try to question, stopping short when he bottoms out in a groan, breathing in through his nose before lending you a tight, short thrust.
“Mm, yeah, I’m gonna be in you every day.” He moans, thinking about the image alone of sneaking into your room while his girlfriend is fast asleep.
Fucking you in his bed. In your bed. On the shared couch. Everywhere. Everyday.
“God, she’d hate us both.” He chuckles through the same moans he can’t stop from spilling out of his throat. “Finding out I’m so deep, so raw like this.”
Fuck. Right.
“Wait–” You come to realization, clenching from panic at the fact that a condom didn’t even come to mind. “Fuck, Hee, wait!”
He only presses harder now, smiling at how you’ve finally managed to come to your senses. Fucking you faster when you try to wiggle your hips away. Fucking you harder, pressing his entire body weight against the back of your thighs just to force you to stay in one place. Pussy open and spread out, clenching his cock so nicely.
“Gonna fuck you full,” He kisses your forehead with the horrifying words. “You’ll do it for me right? She won’t let me.”
Those words ring in your head. If she won’t let him, you sure as fuck will. You can deal with the consequences later. You no longer fight to pretend he’s not ramming your g-spot, forcing your voice to shake through a cry of his name.
“I’m not–” You choke out through cries, feeling your body tense up. “I’m not on birth co-”
“Fuckkkk, yes.” He rolls his eyes back at your half spoken words, losing it at the thought of dripping his seed into you and knowing he’s sterile enough to scare you both for good. “Take it,” He thumps his cock as far into you as he can, willing you to nod your head, willing you to love this as much as he does.
It’s the fact that you’re not trying to wiggle away now, he can feel your hole pulse at hit words, the way you want to be better than your sister, the way you’d truly let him.
Even more the fact that you’re not the one he should be shooting his seed into. It should be your sister, the woman who wants to marry him, the woman who said she simply wasn’t ready to bear his child. Not that you want to either, but goddamn do you want to be fucked full of the possibly, you say it yourself in a harsh grip around his neck, tugging at the long strands of hair at the nape of his neck.
“Do it.” You whisper through hiccuped moans, his thrusts scooting you up and down on the couch at the sheer force of them.
“Yeah,” He nods his head, pressing harder against your legs as he chases the very high you’re asking him to give to you. “You want it?” He encourages you to keep telling him. He needs you to tell him.
You nod frantically, feeling your body tense up again, trying to reach your hands between your legs to rub your swollen clit. Shockingly, that simply touch of your fingers sends you straight over edge, cumming so hard around his deep thrusts that you can barely hear him praise you through it with drawn out groans of “Ah, you’re squeezing me–” and “Just like that, I’m–”
His voice is clear though, when his hips stutter in place and he’s holding himself still. You can feel the pulse of him releasing into you through the last moments of your orgasm.
“Take it.” He moans. “Take all of it.” He continues, pulling out half way so that his cum drenches every part of your hole.
There, he uses his hand to milk the rest of it out of him, eyes squeezed shut as he feels the sensation of your own orgasm only slick up the inside of you more than he is, and then– he rams back in. Pushing his cum deep. So deep that you moan at the feeling, knowing the mess is dripping down your ass, and being shoved so far against your cervix that– Well. You panic.
Arguably, Heeseung should panic too, but he doesn't as he heaves in a deep and relieved sigh, sliding out of you once and for all.
He just looks at you, a mess on the office couch, pussy pumped full of him, swollen, still pulsing.
“Can I be honest?” He breathes out after running his hands through his sweaty hair, dropping them down with a slap to your now relaxed legs.
At your silence, he continues anyway. “You’ve never looked prettier than right now.”
And, well. You realize that with those words alone, selfish and self absorbed as you relish in them, you decide you don’t care that he’s just fucked you raw without a care in the world that he just cheated on the supposed love of his life. You both have won in this situation, and pregnancy isn’t such a scare anyway when he walks away a mere minute later and comes back with a fucking Plan-B pill.
You’re confused by it at first, popping it into your mouth and looking at him with raised brows.
“Why do you just have these?” You ask, still catching your breath.
“She takes one every time we have sex, even with a condom.” He rolls his eyes.
You smirk, noting how if there’s anything you do better than your sister…It’s fucking her boyfriend.
summary. nerdy sim jaeyun is sweating buckets when the baddie he's been crushing on sits in his lap on a two-hour road trip.
pairing. nerdy!jake x baddie!female reader
genre(s). oneshot, smut, big porn with a small plot
warnings. MDNI, jake is a professional yearner, jake is very shy and repressed (and a bit insecure), masturbation, pervert!jake, unprotected sex (pls don’t), subby switch!jake, top or bottom he's always a sub, reader is a bit mean, jake cries a lot and begs a lot, slight sunsunki if you squint, handjob, blowjob, nose-riding, jake eats her out as well, reverse cowgirl, cowgirl, missionary, BRO WHY IS IT NEVER-ENDING, but like it's messy, EDGING EDGING EDGINGGGG, reader calls him jaeyun, reader is jealous and possessive, implied aftercare, enhypen ensemble, hmm please let me know if i missed anything! not beta read we die like injang
word count. 14,807 words
note. oh boy! this used to be a veeeery old, 8k-word draft, my take on nerdy jake that i decided to polish and give life to. it is also a gift for my bestie and fellow jake's wife: dr. @twocupsofsuga 🫶🏼 congratulations on passing medschool! you're so smart mhm here's my lap dance for you 😏
Women make Sim Jaeyun nervous.
Especially someone as bold and confident like you.
There's something about the soft lilt of your voice that makes him feel ashamed to even speak in your presence. There's something about your enticing eyes that makes him stutter and stumble with his own words, his grammar-police persona flying out the window. There's something about the sure sway of your hips that makes him want to avert his gaze and look more all the same time; like something sinful he shouldn't want but crave for anyway.
You're the kind of woman that makes Sim Jaeyun nervous.
Park Jongseong's cousin from the States that always comes to visit for summer, with that bold show of your body that'll usually often get frowned upon in his neighbourhood, that honey tint of your skin that's far from the local society's beauty standard. You're upfront and so unapologetically you, something he admires and makes him overly conscious if his hair looks nice or not.
It's another summer and you're here again. You're always a welcome addition to their annual trip to Jay's beach house, a road trip that's usually joined by the other five plus you and him. But this year, Nishimura Riki had a last minute decision to cancel his flight to Japan and opted to spend the summer with them instead of with his family.
Which leaves all of you with no space for one person inside Jay's SUV.
"I call dibs on the rear seats," Heeseung says before anyone gets the chance to and disappears into the car. Riki opens his mouth, about to follow the eldest of the group, when Jungwon shoots him a sharp look and blocks his way with his hand.
"No, Riki. You're not getting a seat."
Riki's face morphs into horror. "What?! Am I excluded from this trip?"
"You cancelled your flight this morning. You were never included in the trip."
Seeing the look of hurt on his face, Sunoo actually takes pity on Riki. Peering inside, the blonde mumbles with a pout when he sees a small ice box sitting beside Heeseung. "Surely we can squeeze him into the rear seat, right…?"
"All of his six-feet-one ass? I'd like to see you try, Sunoo hyung." Jungwon shakes his head. He leans on the passenger door, already the assigned co-pilot of the car, in charge of Spotify playlist and Waze and moral support to his Jay hyung. "Either one of you sits in another's lap, or we can Uber Riki to the beach house."
Hearing that, Riki immediately throws his hands. "It's a two-hour drive, hyung, I might just be paying for the Uber's car loan! It's gonna be so expensive!"
"If you can afford cancelling your flight with no refunds, then I think you can afford an Uber to Sokcho."
Riki whips his head to his Sunoo and Jake hyung, jutting out his lips in a pout that's borderline pitiful. Jake mirrors his expression, not really having the power to go against Jungwon's verdict—as if anybody could. Jake pities him, really, but it's Yang Jungwon. There's a whole menace behind those cute dimples and boba eyes.
Beside him, Sunghoon lets out a long sigh. "Then one of us will have to sit in another's lap."
It's an option that has everybody darting their eyes around, afraid that any eye contact with Jungwon will make them become the sacrificial thighs for the two-hour road trip. They're all men packed with mass and muscles, a result of a gym routine that unexpectedly becomes a problem today. Each of them at least weighs one hundred-forty pounds. Jake's sure that if he was chosen, he'd lose his legs by the time they exit Seoul.
Just in time, a loud thud is heard from the car boot. You and Jay walk into the scene, just having finished loading all of their stuff into the car. Jake adjusts his glasses instinctively, unknowingly fixing his appearence when his eyes land on you.
You've abandoned your cardigan, now only wearing a yellow camisole top that only reaches your belly button and a pair of jeans shorts that ends at the bottom swell of your ass. Your outfit choice hides nothing about your figure—your perfect body that admittedly has always been on his mind.
Jake gulps and lets his eyes trail down to your legs. You're seriously one of the most beautiful and hottest girls he's ever seen, and unfortunately, he has a severe problem of having a crush on baddies who are completely out of his nerdy league. You're definitely one of them.
When he looks up, Jake almost faints when your gaze catches his eyes with an unreadable expression. He quickly averts his eyes, adjusting the thick black rims of his glasses that didn't need adjusting.
Did you notice him staring?
"Car seat problem?" Jay asks when he senses the tension among the boys, already foreseeing this issue the moment Riki told him that he was joining their road trip over the phone this morning. They hesitantly nod.
"So what's the solution?"
"Riki takes an Uber to Sokcho—"
"Which will cost him his tuition fees," Jay comments, ever the hyperbole-user.
"—Or someone has to sit in another's lap."
Judging from the expression on Jay's face, he, too, doesn't think it's a comfortable position to be sitting in on a two-hour road trip.
But apparently, someone thinks otherwise.
"Oh, then let's do that!" You pipe in, flashing them with your charming smile. "I don't mind doing it!"
There's an elephant silence that follows your statement. Upon seeing their gaped expression, your smile slowly dies down, unsure if you had said the right thing.
"…Or not."
"Or yes!" Riki interrupts, relief flooding his senses. His eyes lit up as he looks around at each one of his friends. "Guys, she's offered to sit in anyone's lap. We can do that, right?"
Jungwon narrows his eyes. "It's a two-hour drive."
Riki blinks nervously. "But noona wants it."
"Then let Y/N noona sit in your lap."
Now, there's a rosy blush blooming across Riki's cheeks. Jake frowns. Lucky bastard. "I-I mean—"
"Not him," you cut in, a small smile playing on your lips. Jake can feel the exact moment everyone holds their breath, as if the air pauses on its own accord and waits for the rest of your sentence. Either they're anticipating or dreading to be your exclusive seat in the car—he's not sure. He's certain that he's the former, but he's also certain you'd pick someone more your type—Sunghoon or Riki, who are loyal gym buddies that possess strong thighs for you to sit on—or even Heeseung who's abandoned his nap and is eavesdropping the conversation now.
He doesn't know why, but surely someone hot like you would pick someone just as hot, right? And hot in Sim Jaeyun's definition is someone who matches your confidence (not him), someone who has a good body and is not shy to show them (Jake thinks his body is nice, but he's also always wearing long-sleeves), or just anyone but him.
Jay pinches the bridge of his nose. "Then who?"
When your eyes meet Jake's, the brown-haired boy almost loses his breath.
A smile curves up your lips. Jake thinks he's hallucinating because there's no way you are smirking at him.
"With Jaeyun."
There's a ripple of gasps, disbelief and shock mixing with a hint of betrayal (no doubt from Riki). Jay's brow disappears behind his hair.
"Seriously, Y/N? You don't have to—Riki's rich enough to pay for the Uber."
Riki's protest is muffled when Jungwon pulls him into a chokehold and slaps a hand over his mouth. Jake wants to pity him, really, but this time he thinks he's the one who needs help because what do you mean? There's no way—
"I'm serious. Jaeyun-ah."
—Oh my fucking God. Jaeyun. Jaeyun. Who's Jaeyun? Who the fuck is Jaeyun?
Jake has a trouble hearing you over the loud roar of his blood, heart threatening to jump out of his throat. But he manages a small, airy, 'Hm?' when all eyes are on him.
You tilt your head slightly, eyes never letting go of his, holding him hostage in your gaze alone. This, paired with the way you call his government name—a name you prefer over Jake because 'it's cuter' (according to you, not him) when he first introduced himself to you four years ago, and Jake had let you because he could never say no to you—are the most perfect, never-before-seen formula to unravel the physics genius Sim Jaeyun.
Yeah. Jake is a goner. And will soon have a boner if no one stops you from picking him as today's sacrificial thighs.
"Can I sit with you, Jaeyunnie?"
Someone please say no. Someone please stop you. Someone please tell this Jaeyun to say no because—because why him? Is this some kind of a cliché ploy that popular girls do to play with men's feelings, especially a physics nerd like him? Because if it is, Jake hates to admit that he'd be a willing participant (even if it'd break his heart a little).
"Yes, sure," he squeaks, finally recognising that Jaeyun is his name. He's still trying to process that you chose him—not Sunghoon with his ridiculous broad shoulders, or Riki with his ridiculous long legs, or Heeseung with his ridiculous charm—but him, who's sweating buckets and dampening his armpits underneath his long-sleeved T-shirt. His glasses almost glide down his nose from how sticky it is.
"It's settled, then!" Sunoo claps once, already red and irritated from having to stand under the unforgiving sun for longer than necessary. "Jake hyung and Y/N will sit together. So I will be sitting with—"
"Me!"
"Me!"
Sunoo ignores Sunghoon and Riki, and walks straight to the rear seats. "With Heeseung hyung!"
Soon, there's shuffling and then everyone's already inside the car. Riki sits in the middle with a pout, a penalty for causing the minor disruption and losing rock-paper-scissors to Sunghoon and Jake. Sunghoon is happily humming to a song from the 80s, occassionally turning around to tease Sunoo who's been trying to join Heeseung in his mandatory road-trip nap. Jay and Jungwon have settled into their designated seats as the drivers of the day, already talking about the route they're taking and traffic condition. While Jake—well, he's preparing himself for the inevitable.
You're still standing by the door, overseeing the situation at hand, and Jake tries to ignore the way his cheeks burn under your weighted gaze.
"Can I sit now?" You softly ask. Jake hesitates a moment before nodding his head frantically.
"Y-Yes."
You, on the other hand, do not hesitate at all. Jake instinctively spreads his legs when you climb into the car, already aiming his lap as your throne for the next 120-minute of the ride. His senses heighten, overly aware of his friends' eyes watching his every move, and the soft scent of peach from your body wash that invades his nose when your weight finally settles on him.
In a split second, Jake goes from never daring to touch you to having you resting your ass comfortably on his clothed dick, thanks to a certain Japanese who's now queueing songs like he didn't just commit a fatal crime against his Aussie hyung.
His slightly longer thighs bracket your exposed ones in a hesitant cage, every point of your skin meeting his seems to burn through the fabric of his jeans. Your hair and neck are one breath away from his nose now, where he's inhaling lungfuls of peaches and creams and your vanilla-ish perfume, and Jake chooses to blink at the ceiling to avoid looking over your shoulders and possibly flashing himself with the swell of your chest under that thin camisole top. The already-cramped space feels even smaller, and Jake doesn't think he can breathe properly.
While at it, Jake hopes his prayers could break through the car roof and reach the heavens.
God, please have mercy on me and let my other head not have a brain of its own.
God answers him shortly in the form of you shifting around.
"You comfortable?" You ask innocently, adjusting yourself on his lap. Jake nearly inhales his tongue, feeling blood rush to his ears and south. A strangled noise escapes his throat instead.
"Mhm."
From the front, he can hear a snort coming from none other than Jay. "You sound constipated, dude."
'Try having a pretty girl sit on your dick then!', is what Jake wishes he could say to his friend, but he knows that this is more of a him-problem. Someone like Jay won't get flustered in this kind of situation—at least not as bad as he is, who doesn't even fucking know where to put his hands, hovering in the air like he's about to conduct a choral speaking.
So, Jake resorts to conveying his rage through the rearview mirror instead, hoping that his glare and frown are enough to make Jay feel bad. (They don't, Jay finds him cute instead).
Jungwon comes to save the day as he turns to the backseat. "Do you have everything with you?" All of them except Jake hum. He thinks he doesn't have his sanity anymore, but of course the younger boy pretends to ignore him.
Jungwon eyes each one of his friends, his gaze stopping longer at the sight of Jake gripping the leather seat, the white of his knuckles almost matching his face, and you smiling innocently at him. Jungwon badly wants to laugh.
Jake widens his eyes at Jungwon. Help me!
The younger boy gives him an indecipherable look before turning to face the front. "Alright. We're not turning back for you even if you forgot your PlayStation."
Jake wants to say that they might want to leave a certain Sim Jaeyun to save him from this misery, but all words are gone from his mind when the car starts forward with a sharp jolt. Your back meets his chest in a soft thud, punching air out of his lungs. Your ass pushes deeper into his lap and Jake nearly pierces the leather with his nails from how desperately hard he's gripping it.
"Oops, sorry!" Jay chimes from the driver seat, sounding far from sorry.
You straighten up and turn around, looking more sorry than your cousin. "You okay? Sorry about that, Jaeyunnie."
Oh, fuck. Please don't use that voice on him when he's one bump away from kissing your lips. You're so close it feels like you're breathing in the same air he exhales, so close he can see the faint, tiny freckles dusting your cheeks and the bridge of your nose.
"Yeah," he manages, voice hoarse like he's just swallowed a bucket of sand. "I'm okay."
There's a halt in your movement, like you're actually seeing him through the calm façade he's exuding. His breath catches when your eyes drop to his lips briefly, the bitten-red skin tingles under your heated gaze.
Then, after a moment, you smile at him so easily; as if the tension never existed, as if the pull was only one-sided.
"If you say so."
When he's met with your shiny hair again, Jake lets out a breath he unknowlingly held. Your voice fills up the space softly as you begin talking to Jungwon and Jay, all cheery and unrestrained while he's exerting mental training equivalent to physical labour of a building constructor to stop his dick from hardening every time you move.
He hears a snicker from his left and immediately meets with Riki's mischievous eyes. The younger boy mouths something that has Jake closing his eyes and leaning on the headrest in defeat.
'Don't get horny now, Jake hyung.'
Jake is worried that if it's not now, it'll be the next time Jay hits a bump.
Instead of a road bump, Jake's personal enemy turns out to be you.
Ten minutes in, everything is still going fine. Jake is still breathing, alive, and hasn't popped a boner that could traumatise you and get him banned from the car permanently. You also seem okay, still engrossed in a conversation with the cat-duo driving the car, talking about college and your winter trip to Japan.
For a moment, Jake selfishly thinks if his lap was that…sitable, seeing as you haven't shown any signs of discomfort yet. Or, to be fair, it has been barely ten minutes since they're en route, and though those minutes are enough to pull the others into a car nap, ten minutes feel like one round of orbit around the Sun when he has you sitting on his lap.
Jake can feel himself melt into the seat. Maybe this isn't so bad at all. Maybe he can make it to Sokcho without having to cut his dick off before anyone could see his hard-on. He just has to sit really quietly and will his mind to avoid teetering dangerous territory.
Yeap. Everything is fine.
Not until you decide to put your hands on his thighs.
Jake almost jolts at the contact, flexing his thighs instinctively when you place your perfectly manicured fingers on the surface of his jeans. It's a brief touch, one that can pass as accidental, but the lingering heat it leaves behind feels almost physical.
His eyes dart to the back of your head, trembling with nerves nearly frayed at the edges, gauging your reaction, and bites the bottom of his lips when you resume your conversation as if nothing happened. Or nothing really happened to you.
It's just a touch, for God's sake. Calm your dick down.
If a simple touch from you could unravel him this fast, what about other things? What if you hug him, or-or if you hold his hand, or—wait, is he wishing for other things to happen between you and him? (He does, but he knows that it won't happen.)
Jake gulps harshly and decides to enjoy the scenery instead. He stares hard out the window, so intense like he's memorising every species of the trees they pass by, mind lost in a whirlwind of horny thoughts clashing with rationality, when you do something again.
This time, it isn't an innocent touch on his thigh. It's an innocent move to hear Jungwon better. You lean forward, pushing your ass deeper into his lap simultaneously, offering your ear to Jungwon who seems to be sharing a secret about Jay. Jake's breath hitches and his hands almost come up to hold your waist, the friction sending heat through his body.
Fuck. He peels his eyes away from the window forcefully and follows down the dip of your spine to where your ass meets his crotch. Your position highlights the narrow of your waist and the width of your hips, all sinful curves that have him swallowing harder, something inside his pants threatening to stir alive. Jake closes his eyes.
Think of Jesus, Jake. Think of Layla. He absentmindedly fixes his glasses. Think of quantum physics. Think of—
"—Oh!" You squirm excitedly, round butt wiggling slightly against his cock. "Yes, I met her before!"
Jake hisses before he can stop himself, the sound serving like a knife cutting the conversation. You and Jungwon instantly turn to look at him, the latter wearing a mischievous expression when he sees the heat painting Jake's face red.
"Are you okay?" You prompt in concern, noticing how stiffly Jake is nodding at you.
"Y-Yeah. Good. I'm horgoony."
Freudian slip is gonna be the death of him.
Jay and Jungwon burst out laughing, catching the slip as fast as any dirty-minded man would. Jake's face turns a darker shade of red, avoiding your eyes whose brows now pinching in confusion.
"Horgoony?" You echo, pretty confident you have never heard of that strange word spoken before. Jake immediately shakes his head, panic creeping into his chest when Jungwon shows a sign of opening his mouth.
No! Do not let that orange cat speak! Jungwon only cares about his downfall!
"I feel horribly good! Yeah," Jake stammers, to hell with any logical reasoning. "Like, I feel good because we're on a road trip. But also kind of horrible because I get motion sickness sometimes."
Now that the string of the sentences has flowed out of his mouth, Jake thinks he is kind of making sense. Satisfaction blooms in his chest when you nod in understanding, because two conflicting emotions—feeling good and horrible—can exist simultaneously, right? Like the way he wants to push you from his lap and hide in the deepest part of the Sokcho forest forever but also craves to just grab your hips and pull you close and have his way with you—wait stop.
What a horrible, horny, nothing-good man you are, Sim Jaeyun.
"That does sound horrible." Jake snaps out of his thoughts when he registers your voice, nodding fervently to amplify the faux pity that he's just orchestrated.
You give him a sorry look, the one where it pulls the corners of your mouth down into a frown. Jake sighs in relief. You bought it. Thank God for his smart brain.
"Yeah. I think I'm just gonna take a nap," he adds, voice turning softer when you still look at him in concern. He feels a strange need to overexplain.
"Motion sickness happens because your eyes see one thing while your inner ears and muscles feel another. If I take a nap, it'll eliminate the visual stimuli that causes the conflict…" Jake trails off, catching himself before he could go on and on and on on why humans experience motion sickness, and possibly bore you to death. He shakes his head imperceptibly. "So—yeah. I should take a nap."
To his surprise, you only give him a warm smile. "I never knew that, Jaeyun. Then what's the correlation between motion sickness and playing your phone in a moving vehicle?"
Jake blinks behind his glasses, genuinely taken aback that you're actually listening instead of zoning out halfway through his rambling.
"Oh. Um." He clears his throat. "It's kind of the same concept. Your eyes are focused on something stationary—your phone—but your body still feels the movement of the car."
You hum softly, leaning back against him slightly, prompting him to continue. Jake immediately forgets how lungs work.
"S-So your brain gets confused because the signals don't match," he continues weakly. "Your eyes tell your brain you're sitting still, but your inner ears are like, 'No, we're moving.' It's like mixed signals, and our body doesn't like mixed signals."
His ears are warming up from how true the words are to the situation he's having with you.
"And right now you're seeing my stationary body while the car's moving," you continue with a subtle tilt of your mouth, "so you're nauseous and all dizzy now, right?"
Jake almost chokes to death. Did you know about his little problem? He blinks at you rapidly, hand itching to touch his glasses in a fit of nerves.
Oh my God. He's going to die. He's going to die and Jungwon will write 'Sim Jaeyun was a smart friend, died a horny man with a dick that never went down, a standing ovation to his contribution to Seoul National University' as his headstone epitaph. You know about it so Jake is going to die!
He stumbles with his own words. "I-I mean—It's actually—"
You give him a cheeky smile. "I'm just joking with you, Jaeyun. You're probably sick because you're having me on your lap like this."
You start digging into your front pocket, frowning when it's empty. Jake holds his breath when your hands move to your back pocket, looking for whatever it is that gets you so determined and his dick so excited whenever your finger brushes against his crotch. Jake is almost blue from not breathing.
He thinks this time he's really going to die.
"Found it!"
You offer your palm to him, where two mint candies sit idly on the soft surface. Jake's chest slowly feels lighter as air rushes in, no longer collapsing under the pressure of your searching hand accidentally brushing against him moments ago. He clears his throat.
You beam at him. "These will soothe your sickness, Jaeyunnie. Please take them."
Jake studies your face.
Do you know what you're doing to him? Was everything done on purpose, or are you really oblivious to everything?
He swallows and forces a nod, taking the candies from your palm, feeling a spark of electricity in his system when his fingers brush your skin.
"Thank you, Y/N."
You turn your back on him, resuming your conversation with Jungwon and Jay. All sweet and cotton candy, unaware of the turmoil he's going through. Jake stares at the candies in his hand, a mocking sign to his misery, and heaves out a quiet sigh. He glances at his wristwatch.
It feels like two world wars had happened but it's only been twenty minutes into the drive. An hour and forty minutes of horny torture remains for Sim Jaeyun to endure, and he's not sure if he's going to survive.
He slowly closes his eyes. Maybe sleep can help with horniness, too.
It does, but only for a moment, because Jake could swear he just blinked when you tap his shoulder a few times.
Jake blinks, half-groggy and half-alert. Did he have a wet dream of you and get hard in his unconsciousness? Is that why you woke him up?
But he's met with your apologetic face instead. "I'm sorry for waking you up," you whisper, trying not to wake other boys who are fast asleep. "But my back's sore. Can I lean on you for a moment?"
In a flash, all incoherent thoughts fly out the window. Guilt starts lodging in his chest as he realises—glancing at his watch—that you've been sitting straight for one hour. Before he knows it, Jake is already nodding at you, adjusting his seat to accommodate the new position.
"Y-Yes, you can."
God, he's such a loser. The word 'no' seems to disappear from his dictionary whenever you're around.
You reward him with an appreciative smile and waste no time to turn around and lean back softly on him. The moment your back touches his chest, Jake can feel his system kick start, a chemical reaction that he can never understand no matter how hard he studies Biology.
You physically relax into his chest. "This is so much better," you sigh, a dreamy smile on your face, resting your head in the crook of his neck. Then you tilt your head upwards to glance at him. "Is this okay for you?"
Jake hopes you can't feel how fast his heart is beating through the fabric of his shirt. The brown-haired boy nods wordlessly. "More than okay."
For a moment, you just stare at him, brilliant eyes holding his in a soft gaze. It's a silent minute full of everything unspoken, rendering him speechless and even more restless because no matter how smart he is, he could never decipher the meaning behind this look you're giving him. There's something you hide that he feels like he should know, like an open secret waiting for the right time for him to catch.
This time, Jake is even sure that you can hear his heartbeat.
Then, as if that moment never happened, you close your eyes and get comfortable.
"We should sleep, Jaeyun. Don't want you to get carsick again."
You nuzzle closer and Jake holds his breath, feeling the silky strands of your hair brushing against his jaw. His hands hover, not knowing where to land, though the pinch of your waist is where he wants to hold the most. Eventually, Jake settles on his thighs, watching the difference between his veiny hands and the smooth span of your thighs.
Is he still sleeping? Is he dreaming or are you really sleeping on his chest?
It seems that sitting in his lap really tired you out, because you're fast asleep in less than five minutes. The guilt in his chest amplifies at the sight of your closed eyes, breathing evening out as sleep overtakes your being. Jake bites his lips.
He's so shameless, napping to avoid getting turned on instead of caring for your being. He’s so horrible, worrying more about his hard-on than the fact that you’ve been uncomfortable for an hour. Jake wants to cry so bad.
Jake spends the rest of the ride watching you sleep. He fixes your hair when it falls over your face, tucking it behind your ear carefully, and then smiles to himself when he sees your pout. He blocks the sunlight with his hand when it's glaring on your skin through the window, not minding letting his hand redden from the harsh light. He instinctively holds your waist at a sharp turn, firm and secure, though he lets go just as fast as if it burns, afraid that it's not a touch you'd receive had you been conscious.
Other than the carnal desire he has suppressed for you, this road trip also makes him realise the depth of the feelings he actually harbours for you. He's so doomed. He's so doomed because in what universe would a hot, sweet, popular California girl like yourself, return back the feelings of a bland, studious, quiet Korean-Aussie boy like him?
In fictions. In another lifetime. But not in Sim Jaeyun's current universe right now.
However, the Sim Jaeyun in this universe also will never know peace.
Because just as he's getting comfortable with the you-watching routine that he just recently discovered, the road has another plan for him when Jay finally, and actually, hits a bump this time.
The first bump is a mild surprise. Jake gathers it's a small bump, one that Jay overlooks while getting excited over Bon Jovi playing on the rodeo. But the aftermath brings you settling deeper into him, pressing on him in a way that has his breath hitching. Jake holds your waist on instinct.
"Oh my God, I didn't see that," Jay mutters from the front.
Jake tries to steady his breath. That's…a shock. One that shatters the soft atmosphere he created while watching you, now replaced with the same tension he's been fighting the last hour.
Jake lets go of your waist when he assumes that it's just a one-time thing. But then the bump happens again, and instead of a solid, big one—it's shaky, like they're sliding through endless, tiny jagged rocks.
"Damn bro, this road needs fixing," Jay makes another commentary. He glances at the rearview mirror. "You good, Jake?"
Jake doesn't know what to answer. "I think I am," he mumbles, voice clipped.
Is it good that you're practically bouncing in his lap, adding more pressure with almost no interval for him to recover mentally? He thinks not. But Jay doesn't have to know that.
"We're almost there," Jungwon chimes in, navigating the map. There's a shakiness in his voice that comes from the vibration caused by the bumps. "Fifteen minutes at most. We found a shorter route just now and traffic was smooth."
Fifteen minutes.
Jake thinks he might actually die in fifteen minutes.
Another bump sends your body rocking against him softly, your sleeping face scrunching for a brief second before relaxing. His grip tightens.
Fuck.
If Jay doesn't stop the car and fix this damn road himself then he's definitely going to pop a boner soon.
Jake squeezes his eyes shut when another bump rattles through the car, and then again, and again, and again until Jake can barely separate one sensation from another anymore. Until he doesn't know where he starts and where you end anymore. You shift unconsciously, settling heavier against his chest before Jay hits another bump.
This time, Jake makes a mistake of looking down at you.
He didn't notice it before, too lost in his sappy, romantic feelings for you. But right now, it's actually so damn obvious that the angle from where he sits taller than you and you lean against him, he can easily see your cleavage past the neckline of your camisole.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
The road doesn't stop shaking beneath the tires, and so does his pulse as he watches your breasts bounce with every bump that comes their way. Jake averts his eyes, so stiff and so strained, but can't help letting his gaze drift back to watch the soft mounds shake.
This is bad. This is very, very bad, and Jake is nothing but a bad fucking pervert.
A particularly rough patch of road sends the entire car jolting. Your body bounces against him harder this time, more pressure and more friction that Jake almost whimpers. He tips his head back, gulping harshly as the line of his long neck glistens with a sheen of sweat.
Inside his jeans, he can feel his cock kick.
Oh, fuck—he's definitely hard now.
Oh my fucking God.
"This is the last one, promise!"
Jake doesn't even register Jay's words, or the way your head hits his jaw from impact, because his internal system is flooded with horny-filled panic. He can feel it: his dick twitching and getting semi-hard from the continuous stimulation from your bouncing. He doesn't even realise that he's now clawing at his own thighs, seeking strength that could neutralise his blooming lust, or that you are finally awake.
"Are we almost there?" You ask groggily, blissfully unaware of the raging boner forming under your ass. You sit up when the coastal view greets your blurry vision, mouth gaping in awe.
"Oh, wow!" You gasp, always excited to visit Sokcho no matter how many times you've been there. "It's beautiful as always!"
The road is smooth now, but Jake's final torture arrives in the form of you bouncing, excitedly and consciously, in his lap. You wiggle in enthusiasm, urging Jungwon to pass your phone that's been charging at the front to take some pictures and send it to the family groupchat.
"Jungwon, Jaeyun, look at those seagulls!"
Jake is seeing no seagulls. He's only seeing white hot, painful pleasure as you move in his lap, his brain dissolving into useless static. His fingers twitch, itching to grab your waist and force you to stay still, but you're so excited that he almost didn't have the heart to do it.
"Did you see that?" You lean to the window, and then shift happily when you spot kites in the sky. "We should do that too! Hey, Jay, do you think you can—"
Jake finally has had enough.
The restraint that he's been holding onto finally breaks like a taut wire getting cut. His hands snap to your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, hips almost bucking up from the delicious friction alone. His lips drop to the shell of your ears, hot, ragged breath brushing the sensitive skin as his voice lowers an octave.
"Y/N," Jake licks his dry lips, the tip of his tongue peeking through. He watches with dark eyes as the hair on your neck stands straight under his unforgiving proximity.
"Stop fucking moving."
And that's the moment you feel it.
A bulge, hard and rigid and big, poking your ass from where you rest in his lap.
Oh my fucking God.
Sim Jaeyun is hard.
You freeze, breath hitching.
Neither of you dare to move. Not even your excitement of being back to your uncle's beach house, or Jay's questioning look from where you cut your sentence, can bring you to move. No.
You couldn't, not when Jake's hard dick is nudging at you right now, so tangible and unmistakably his.
The brown-haired boy is still panting in your ear, shooting tingles through your system. His grip on your waist is almost bruising, like he's trying very, very hard to hold back from overstepping lines that shouldn't be overstepped.
You hadn't meant for this to happen. Sure, Jake is fun to tease. That boy is all broken words and nervous glances whenever you're in his proximity, and it can't be helped when he blushes prettily too.
You just can't stop yourself from seeking his attention in your own way, because aside from being a pretty boy, Jake is also such a sweetheart and so, so smart. And in an age where intellligence is a scarcity, you absolutely adore smart guys.
Especially the one who isn't condescending and is actually eager to help people like him.
So, really—you hadn't meant for this to happen. Offering to become the one without a seat is a decision you made when you consider yourself to be lighter than most of the guys, but offering to sit in Jake's lap is definitely a decision born from personal bias. You kind of knew what it would cause—seeing how stiff and awkward Jake had been—but you let it go halfway through when the soreness in your back outweighs your desire to tease.
Which has now brought you to this situation.
The car's still moving like nothing happened, and the boys are slowly stirring to life one by one. Everything is normal, except for the nails digging into your waist and the deep timbre in your ear.
You swallow harshly, not daring to move. Jake is so close, so close that you can feel every movement of his chest. You sit still in his hold, trying not to wince from how hard he's gripping your hips, and how hot you find the situation is.
His dick, despite no movement is being made, only hardens further. Jake gasps almost imperceptibly, almost matching the way your breath leaves your mouth when you notice, again, just how big he is.
Fuck. Fuck, that's so hot. Sim Jaeyun is so hot and you can feel yourself slowly getting turned on.
Without any warning, as if driven by an invisible force that urges to look at him, you finally turn around.
And Jake looks absolutely wrecked.
Beads of sweat dot on his forehead, the furrow of his eyebrows showing restraint and constraint. His lips are red from how hard he's biting them, and his previously clean, smooth glasses are now fogged up and hazy. His eyes, glazed over with tamed lust, lock into yours, half-lidded and dark.
A breath catches in your throat.
This is not the Jaeyun you know.
Or, more accurately, this is not the Jaeyun he usually shows.
This is another side of him, like seeing Jake wearing short-sleeves and showing his arms for the first time. Gone are his round, puppy eyes, now replaced with this narrowed, slit gaze that makes you shiver under his heated stare. He used to be so nervous around you, and you can feel that he's nervous now, too, but his pent-up sexual frustration seems to outweigh any rational daily-Jake thoughts.
This is still Sim Jaeyun. Just a different, never-before-seen side of Sim Jaeyun.
"Are we finally there?" Riki, the last one to awaken, stretches beside the two of you. You don't even notice that the car has pulled up into the driveway of Jay's ridiculously huge beach house from how piercing Jake's gaze is holding your eyes captive now.
Jake bites his lips, the fog in his head slowly clearing up now that the car has stopped. As if snapping out of a daze, he quickly maneuvers you into Riki's lap instead, showcasing his strength that he often hides. The latter yelps at the sudden weight and grabs your waist on instinct, before Jake darts out of the car without looking back.
"Sim Jaeyun! Bring your own fucking luggage!" Jay shouts from the car boot, but the brown-haired boy has already disappeared behind the door.
You sit, stunned in silence, still frozen and unable to speak. Not until Riki nudges at you, Heeseung and Sunoo impatiently asking the both of you to move so that they can get out.
"Are you okay, noona? Is hyung okay?"
You nod. You give the youngest a strained smile as you slowly move out of his lap and out of the car, careful not to start another war of hormones.
"We're okay."
The lie tastes bitter on your tongue.
Jake is avoiding you.
It's a foreseeable aftermath. It's inevitable. But it pains you regardless.
It gets to the point where he straight up refuses sitting next to you at dinner, which raises some eyebrows and teasing from the boys. But you know better.
He is deliberately avoiding you.
It frustrates you, really. Because every summer, it is your thing with Jake to sit in silence in the morning and read at the porch, enjoying the sunrise over wordless, comfortable silence. But now he purposely sleeps in, waking up later than usual, leaving you alone in the cold of dawn, your paperback copy of The Inheritance Games left untouched on your thighs.
At movie nights, he'll be the last one to join, just to see where you sit first to avoid being near you. He'll become extra quiet when you speak, acting like the floor is more interesting than your face, not even sparing you a glance.
And your patience is wearing thin. Almost thinner than the bikini you're wearing right now.
Fine. He can ignore you all he wants, act like he didn't just pop a boner after letting you sit in his lap. He can pretend like you never affected him, pretend like nothing happened, but one thing you know is that Jake could never betray his attraction for you.
So, be fucking it. You don't care if it's petty to pick the skimpiest bikini you own today, the one in hot pink that always contours the line of your cleavage, perfectly bunching up your tits and making them look rounder. The one that you know will drive Jake crazy from how bouncy your ass looks, basically confirmed when his eyes can't seem to stop trailing after you even after you dive into the pool.
You come to the surface with a gaping mouth, letting the water slide down the lines on your body, and make no show of hiding yourself from looking straight at Jake.
That coward has the nerves to look away after staring at you like a touch-deprived teenager.
"Is Sim Jaeyun single?"
The reason why you always agree to join the all-boys road trip is because it's not exactly all-boys. There are girls who live nearby. Girls you're acquainted with from how often you follow your cousin to his beach house every summer. Spoiled rich girls whose parents come from the same tax bracket as your and Jay's family.
And one of those girls is shamelessly checking Jake out now, hungry eyes drinking in the way his wet, long-sleeved shirt sticks to his torso, outlining the faint lines of his abdomen that he never shows. She's sitting on the edge of the pool, feet-dipping while you take a break from your swim.
You narrow your eyes, an ugly spark of jealousy blooming in your chest. You don't like the implication of the question, and you absolutely hate the way she's looking at him now.
"Don't even think about it."
Your neighbour only shrugs and continues her eye-fucking. "He's so my type. So nerdy, so smart. I wonder how he'll look like without the glasses?"
You will poke her eyes before she gets the chance to. "Use your own imagination," you hiss, almost bitter when you realise that you also have barely seen him without his glasses.
Jake has sensitive eyes that react badly to contact lenses, which explains his preference for thick glasses than going out without them. Even now, when everyone is fooling around Jay's enormous pool, his thick, black-rimmed glasses perch on the bridge of his tall nose—the nose you hope you can put into good use one day.
The girl only hums, half-listening to you. She sighs dreamily. "I can't believe that I have his number."
At this point, the jealousy has turned so ugly you're actually seeing green. Or red. Or whatever that Cortis song sounds like. "You have his number?"
She finally pays attention to you. "Yeap! I asked him yesterday. I don't know what I should say to start the conversation though," she pouts, glancing back at Jake who's now sitting on the side with Sunghoon, sipping on coconut water. "Should I ask him if I can join dinner at your house tonight?"
Jake gave his number to her?
You grit your teeth. The hurt has materialised into a knife, twisting in your chest in a sharp pain disguised in jealousy. So, while Jake's been avoiding you like a fucking plague, he's been spending his time giving away his number to any curious girl? He's been talking with other girls while leaving you with radio silence, one that you didn't deserve because it was him who popped that boner?!
You are the one who's supposed to ignore him—not the other way around!
What a fucking loser.
You can't stop the bitterness from leaking through your voice when you finally speak.
"It's me and Jay that you should ask—not Sim Jaeyun. And no, you cannot join dinner at my house tonight."
You leave her dumbfounded by the pool, seething in anger that the water on your skin could steam from the heat alone. You march to the slide doors, giving Jake and Sunghoon the nastiest side-eye you could ever give when the latter calls out to you, and slam the door behind.
Whatever. Or not whatever. Sim Jaeyun is a fucking pervert and a jerk and a coward, and stupidly hot while being so oblivious to how hot he actually is. Whatever! You don't care.
You don't care that he barely speaks a word to you. You don't care that he leaves any room you walk into. You don't care that he's flirting with other girls and giving away his number willingly when you had his on default for being Jay's younger cousin, and from Jay himself at that.
The corner of your eyes burn.
You wish you didn't care.
You're ignoring Jake.
Jake knows this the moment you no longer come to the porch to read. Instead, every morning is now spent in the garden with Jungwon, tending to Jay's mom's flowers. After, you'll brew some hibiscus tea that you pluck from the garden and share it with Sunoo and Riki.
And when he walks into the kitchen to get some food, you no longer meet his eyes, or save that apple that he knows you know he likes to eat for breakfast. You let Heeseung eat all of them! It's so—so unfair, because he likes apples and you know it!
It sends Jake to the end of a cliff. Why are you suddenly being like this?
His sanity is stretching thin as he tries to work his brain. Why the sudden change? Is it because of his silence? But he's just embarrassed to face you! Or—did you find out about it?
Genuine horror floods his mind when he thinks, oh no, you must've realised how disgusting he truly is. How dirty-minded and perverted he is, that every day he has to take cold showers three times a day whenever he catches a glimpse of you.
You in your sleepwear. You in your casual shirt. You in shorts.
You in bikini.
Jake has fallen out of any point of salvation, because God, could any man get this horny just from a mere look? In the back of his mind, he knows it's the image of you sitting in his lap that ignited the beginning of his undoing, but the continuous hard-on he gets whenever he's around you is definitely, entirely on him.
And Jake, oh so sweet Jake, doesn't dare touch himself to the thought of you. No. He'd rather leave his balls blue, take cold showers every morning, every evening, and every night, and let his dick go from standing tall like a national anthem was being played to becoming flaccid under the cold water without any action. He doesn't even have the guts to touch his own fucking dick, the guilt blocking him from doing anything to relieve himself.
So—did you find out about it? Because if you did, then Jake could understand the cold shoulders you're giving him.
But Jake is a mere man—maybe a bit perverted, and a bit too horny despite his image, so he couldn't stop himself from getting hard the moment he sees you walking into the living room in nothing but an oversized white tee that falls off your shoulder. He grabs the nearest cushion and places it on top of his crotch, blood already rushing south when he sees the strap of your black bra.
This is why he has to go to church sometimes; to balance everything out. Because Einstein never talked about the solution or formula to cure men's (Jake's) sexual desires that seem endless. And sexual desires that come from seeing a strap of a bra alone.
Whatever it is, Jake's soul has almost left his body, already tuning out of his surroundings. He doesn't even realise that Jay and Riki are wrestling for the TV remote, and accidentally sending said remote flying onto the floor just a few feet away from him.
He only comes to when you stand in front of him, back facing him, and bend over to pick up the remote.
You. Bend. Over. In. Front. Of. Him.
In a second, Jake has a full view of your ass. The shirt rides up slightly, revealing white shorts that stretches across the round flesh as you bend over to reach the remote and Jake feels like he's brought back to the car when he was fighting demons as you unintentionally ground his crotch with every movement.
His grip on the cushion tightens, head dizzy from the way you practically shove your butt in his face.
Jake releases a shaky exhale.
He can see the outline of your panties and wonders if it matches your black bra.
And he can see the outline of his doomed future if he stays in the living room any longer.
"Whose turn is it to pick the movie?" You casually ask, now straightening up as if you just didn't flash Jake with your perky ass.
"Jake hyung," Jungwon replies from the center of the long couch, carding his hand through Sunoo's silky hair, the blonde who's now laying down his head on his lap. "It's his turn."
Your face remains expressionless as you turn to the glasses boy. But instead of taking the remote from your hand, Jake stands up, avoiding eye contact and clutching the cushion tight over his crotch.
Then he flees the living room, leaving behind six confused men and one very angry, very upset girl.
Jake thinks he deserves a medal for surviving the living room.
Or perhaps an exorcism.
The moment his bedroom door clicks shut behind him, Jake drops the cushion onto the floor and drags both hands down his face with a groan. His glasses nearly fall off his nose in the process.
What the fuck is wrong with him?
He paces once across the room, then twice.
Outside, he can still hear the muffled sounds of the movie downstairs—Riki yelling dramatically at a character, Sunoo complaining about spoilers, Jay laughing too loudly. Normal sounds. Normal people.
Meanwhile Jake feels like he's one accidental glimpse of your shoulder away from committing a crime.
His eyes squeeze shut.
That white shirt.
The black bra strap.
The way you bent over in front of him so casually, completely unaware that Jake nearly ascended right there on Jay's living room couch.
"Fuck," he whispers weakly to himself.
Jake drops onto the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees.
Maybe he should take another cold shower. That would make four today.
"I should sleep," he mutters to himself, breath shaky. "S-Sleep can help with motion sickness and horniness."
With a newfound resolution, he turns off the lamp and settles under the blanket. His movement is stiff and awkward, overly aware of the tent straining his shorts. Once he pulls the blanket over his chest, Jake closes his eyes, forcing sleep into his system.
Only, the image of you swimming in your hot pink bikini flashes behind his eyelids.
"No, stop. Not that," he whispers, brows scrunching in protest. He shakes his head, as if physically removing the image away, and tries again.
This time, the image of you in his lap comes back, stripped down to heated skin and soft breaths, your body moving against his in ways that make his stomach twist.
His eyes fly open. The image is so clear and vivid, thanks to his photographic memory and insane imagination—the very thing that's been saving him in the academic department now serving as the tool that brings him to his downfall.
His cock twitches involuntarily.
"N-No," he pants, chest moving rapidly. He grips the edge of the blanket, knuckles turning white. "I—Stop—"
Then he remembers just now: you bent over, giving him a delicious access to his ass-shaped sufferings, and Jake almost whimpers from the flashback alone.
The room rises in temperature, the air conditioner doing nothing to tone down the feverish lust spreading through his body. Jake finally relents and discards the blanket, glasses all fogged up as he stares at the bulge under his shorts.
"I'm sorry," he whimpers, slipping off his shorts and boxers until they bunch up around his knees. "I'm so fucking sorry."
His cock springs free, standing tall in the dimness of his room. The tip glistens, already drooling with precum that shows no sign of stopping. With shaky hands, hesitance still edging around his lust, Jake finaly touches himself.
He has to bite down hard on his lips to muffle the sound threatening to escape. His hand stutters, the feeling of finally rubbing some relief after days of holding back comes crashing down on him. His head spins from how heavy his cock is in his hold, veins protuding like they're going to combust.
He slowly starts moving his hand, lathering up precum to ease the glide. His head tips back, a strangled sound catches behind his throat.
"Oh, God," his head spins, sparks of lust bursting at the tip of his fingers. "Oh, fuck—"
Through his hazy gaze of the blurry lenses, Jake tightens his grip slightly. A moan escapes his lips at the force, his cock only getting heavier in his hand. He plays with the mushroom tip of his dick, thumbing the slit and hissing when it sends pleasure up his spine.
"Ngh—" his eyes squeeze shut, brain putting up pieces of his memory of you. His body jerks when the rough pad of his thumb touches the underside of his cock, and as if on cue, the image of your jiggly breasts inside the car flashes behind his closed eyes.
"Fuck—Y/N," Jake sobs, picking up his pace. His wrist turns and flicks, biceps flexing hard at the speed he's going. Guilt starts accumulating inside his chest the more he thinks of you, of your voice, of your gaze, of your scent—but guilt isn't enough to stop Jake from chasing his own release.
"'So sorry," he chokes, letting go of his bottom lip, bitten-red and swollen. He imagines it was your hand instead of his, smaller and softer, with those manicured nails that he loves so much. How tiny your hand would look around his hard dick, trying to grip his length in its fully erect state.
Jake isn't inexpereinced. He's had his own fair share of sexcapades with a few people, and he's always been told that he's bigger than average. The big dick that he hides under his pants, further concealed by his nervous persona that only certain girls find cute.
But seeing his state right now, Jake thinks he's the furthest thing from cute.
He's pathetic.
Pathetic and gross and disgusting, feeling bad for jerking off to the thoughts of you but still unable to retract his hand and stop. The sound of his cries that he fails to hide fills up the space, and for the first time in days he's very glad that he won paper-rock-scissors during room assignment.
"Oh, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N," he chants, mouth gaping open when he can feel himself close. His wrist is already tired and numb from the relentless pace he's set, the slick sound of his sinful act matching the roar of his blood rushing in his ears.
"Please, please, 'm gonna cum," he sobs, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. His hips lift off the mattress. "Please—"
"Do not fucking cum, Sim Jaeyun."
Jake's entire body locks up.
His wrist stills immediately, pleasure crashing into horror so fast it makes his stomach twist. For a second, he genuinely thinks his heart stops beating.
The room goes dead silent except for his ragged breathing.
Through fogged-up lenses and teary eyes, Jake stares at you standing by the door, unable to process the fact that you're actually here.
That you heard him.
That you saw him.
Oh my fucking God.
His hand jerks away from himself like he’s been burned, chest heaving violently as he scrambles to sit up straighter. The blanket tangles around his legs from how abruptly he moves.
"I—"
Nothing comes out.
Jake has never felt this level of humiliation before.
Not when he failed his chemistry olympiad in tenth grade. Not when he tripped in front of his entire lecture hall. Not even when Jungwon found his hidden Pokémon card collection at nineteen.
This is worse. So much worse.
Because it's you.
You, standing there in that oversized white shirt slipping off your shoulder again, eyes dark and unreadable as you look at him sprawled across the bed like something shameful.
Jake feels sick. His face burns so hot he thinks he might actually pass out.
"S-Sorry," he chokes out instinctively, because apologising is the only thing his brain knows how to do right now. "I didn't—I wasn't—I—"
His voice cracks miserably.
Jake is going to cry.
What should he even say in this situation? Sorry that you caught him jerking off to you? Sorry that he's such a nerd, such a loser that the only time he could talk smoothly with you was when he was defining what motion sickness was, but never had the courage to tell you how much he likes you and how much you affect me? Sorry that he's such a pervert that he thinks of you in positions way too inappropriate to be just friends?
The weight of his arousal sits heavy against his thigh, a testament to a newfound, lifelong embarrassment that he'll carry to his grave.
Jake squirms under your heated gaze, and quickly covers his crotch with his blanket when you slip into his bedroom wordlessly. The door clicks shut, the sound amplified by the heavy silence hanging in the air. His body tenses up.
Oh my God—he messed up, didn't he? Jake hangs his head low in shame, tears gathering along his lashlines.
"I'm sorry—I didn't mean to…"
His vision turns blurry. Fuck, you must hate him now.
"I-It's wrong—I know that—I'm sorry—ah!"
Jake looks up in surprise when your bold hand cups his erection. There's angry lines in your forehead, a sneer on your mouth, but the nasty look you're giving him does nothing to soothe down his arousal.
If anything, twisted as it is—it turns him on even more.
"Couldn't even look me in the eye downstairs," you begin, "but you here you are, jerking off to me like I wouldn't find out?"
The venom in your voice hurts him. You're being mean with your words, and it hurts his feelings but Jake couldn't care less. His mind is a messy jumbles of guilt and pleasure and shame, so all he does is cry and shake his head.
"I-I'm sorry, Y/N—"
"Are you really sorry?" you tighten your grip on his cock, one knee dipping into the mattress. "Your dick doesn't seem sorry though."
Jake wants to cry—oh, he's already crying. His hand curls into the sheets beneath him, unable to form coherent words when you start rocking the heel of your palm on his hard-on. The friction from the blanket and the pressure from your hand only spark electric pleasure through his system.
Within seconds, Jake is all hard again—even harder than before.
"Tell me, Jaeyunnie. Did all of this happen because I sat in your lap?"
Jake whimpers pathetically. You knew. Of course you knew. You're not only hot and pretty and kind, you're also smart like him, so in tune with your surroundings. You're a little mean right now, but it's okay because Jake believes that he deserves this after avoiding you without any explanation.
"Answer me, Sim Jaeyun."
"Yes," he croaks, shame burning his face red. His eyes screw shut. The admission sets his being on fire, skin flushed from embarrassment. "O-Oh, God, y-yes."
He cracks one eye open when you don't reply. Instead, he's met with your fiery gaze. The edges have softened with lust, like you're also affected by this, but you're good at keeping your control.
Unlike him, who's unraveling like a loose thread under your touch alone.
Jake almost whines when you retract your hand, but the sound is muffled with a gasp when you yank the blanket open. He instinctively closes his crotch area with his hands, but you're fast to slap his wrists away.
"I'm so pissed off, Jaeyun," you mutter, swinging your leg over his thighs so now you're straddling him. You fix him with your sharp eyes, hand finding his dick again.
"You've been acting like we're strangers and it hurts me so bad."
Jake's mouth hangs open as you gather his precum and start working your wrist around his cock. His brain barely registers your words, too lost in a cloud of lust, but when he finally processes it, he desperately shakes his head.
He wants to apologise again and again and again, because he is truly sorry—he didn't know how affected you were. How could he not, when you're always described as everything out of his league, but he's always described as everything that doesn't fit your type?
"I'm sorry, I was just—fuck—just ashamed—" he gasps, hips bucking into your touch. "Didn't mean to—t-to hurt y—ngh, Y/N, faster please."
You coo at him, feigning sympathy as you set a ruthless pace on his cock. Jake is big—something that isn't a surprise anymore since that day you sat in his lap—but the sheer size of him is enough to make your mouth water and your panties damp.
Damn these nerdy boys. Acting all shy and innocent when they have this monstrousity hiding behind those ugly glasses.
"Faster? You wanna cum, Jaeyunnie?" you tilt your head. Jake nods frantically. "I don't think you deserve it, though. Why not ask from those girls you gave your number to?"
Something sharp twists in his stomach. Jake's eyes fly open, almost cowering when you give him a distasteful look. He grabs your arms desperately and shakes his head.
"N-No! She asked me first—" you put more pressure and Jake damn near loses his mind. "—said she needs—help—w-with Physi—cs—"
You roll your eyes. It's that easy to fool him? Can't he see the way those girls fuck him with their eyes? Without waiting for his sentence to finish, you sink down and take him in your mouth.
"Oh, fuck!" Jake screams, accidentally thrusting up his hips. He bites his lips, glasses crooked on the bridge of his nose as you take him deeper, tracing the line of his veins with your sinful tongue. "Oh, Y/N—please."
You hum around his length, tongue swirling as you hollow your cheeks to deepen the suction. Jake nearly busts from that alone, mind melting into a puddle of your name, the wet heat of your mouth serving as a better pleasure than his own hand.
You start bobbing your head up and down, marveling in the way the weight of his dick sits on your tongue. He's so big that you're so close to choking, but you don't care. You need to remind Jake how stupid he's been acting and how stupid he is if he thinks that you were not just as attracted toward him.
Jake sobs into his hands, hips jerking with every touch of his tip hitting the back of your throat. His head is getting dizzier, he can feel the coil in his stomach getting tighter and he knows that anytime soon, he will come undone on your skillful tongue.
But just as he's about to reach that high, you let go of him with a pop.
"No!" Jake whines, tears sliding down his cheeks. You're so mean. "P-Please let me cum."
"Not yet, nerdy boy." You mutter, red lips slick with saliva and precum. Jake can only sob, dick throbbing in need and desperation.
This is the punishment he deserves for being a jerk. He knows that, but he can't seem to stop crying. God, he's so pathetic.
Then he feels movement on his thighs. He blinks through the foggy lenses and lets out a breathless moan when you lift up your shirt and shorts and discard them away, leaving you in nothing but a pair of bra and panties. His mouth starts salivating at the display of your beautiful body, and Jake swears he almost cums when he sees that you're indeed wearing black panties.
Oh, fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Just as he imagined—God, you're so perfect he wants to kiss you.
But instead of a kiss, you push his at his chest instead. "Lie down."
And like the obedient puppy that he is, Jake follows your word, carefully descending his back onto the mattress. He's still sniffling from the previous denial, but now it's mixed with anticipation of what's to come when you hover above him.
You trace a gentle finger along the tall bridge of his nose, a barely-there touch that makes him shiver. With a slow tap on the tip of his nose, you finally speak.
"Did anyone ever ride your nose, Jaeyunnie?"
H-His nose?
Girls always compliment his nose, but he's never given it many thoughts as to why they did that. "N-No. Never."
There's a wicked smile on your face as you stand on your knees. Jake watches with a mouth gaping open as you make a show of shimmying down your panties, painfully and traitorously slowly that he almost rips it with his hand.
"Ah, what a shame," you sigh dreamily. "Guess I have to be the first one then."
Once your panties are out of the picture, Jake is instanly hit with a wave of your arousal. Your pussy glistens under the moonlight, soaked with slick and dripping with need. Jake inhales shakily, stopping himself from darting out his tongue to get a taste.
Fuck. He's sure he has actually died in the car and this is heaven because not even in his wildest dream did he get to have you like this.
Too lost in his reverie, Jake belatedly notices that you have removed his glasses. Despite your mean words and your mean actions, the caresses of your thumb on his cheeks are so gentle that he thinks he's hallucinating.
"You're so handsome, Jaeyun," you murmur. "But I bet you'll look better buried between my thighs."
You give him no time to recover from your crude words when you slowly move to straddle his head. Then, with a hand in his hair, you descend, letting the tip of his nose nudge at your clit.
And oh my fucking God—you smell so divine.
"Ah, Jaeyunnie," you moan, rocking your hips slowly to test the waters. "Your nose feels so good."
You sound even more divine. Jake's eyes roll to the back, savouring the way your sinful moans fall on his ears as you use his nose to get off. The bridge of his nose slides through your folds—wet and sticky and so sweet that he can't get enough of it.
Jake wraps his arms around your thighs to give you support, and another moan escapes your lips upon seeing his veiny arms around your supple skin. He stares at you through half-lidded eyes, groaning despite your cunt suffocating him, the vibration sending jolts of pleasure to your system.
"Ngh—Jaeyun—"
He can't breathe, and he can't hear properly from how hard you're clamping his head with your legs, but he can't deny that this is the best way to die. Being suffocated by your leaking pussy sounds like a dream death compared to dying in Jay's old SUV.
You keep your rhythm, rocking your hips back and forth, grinding your clit on his nose and dragging your folds on the tall bridge until the sharp tip of his nose catches at your hole. The grip you have in his hair hurts his scalp, but everything is worth the pain when Jake can watch you fall apart on his face, his own cock pulsing with a trembling need to cum.
"Ah—ah—Jaeyun oppa—"
Fuck. Fuck that sacred nickname.
The dynamics between you two often makes Jake forget the fact that he is indeed older than you. Coming from the States, it's uncommon for you to address people with such honorifics.
But right now, using that very honorific against him ignites something inside him; a carnal desire that's been thrumming low in his guts, waiting to be unleashed.
This time, Jake barely stops himself from stealing a taste. He darts out his tongue, prodding your hole with the tip, and hums in satisfaction when your stance falters slightly.
"Don't," you hiss, but there's no heat in it. Jake takes it as a sign to continue, licking more into your weeping cunt until your pace turns sloppy.
He doesn't care. You're probably gonna be so mad at him and punish him more, but whatever it is you have prepared can wait. Right now, Jake is having the best pussy of his life—barely breathing but still eating so, so fucking well.
"Jaeyun—stop—"
"No," Jake protests when you try to get up, pulling you down until the full weight of your body rests on his face.
Oh God, choking on pussy has never felt so good.
"Sim Jaeyun!" You squirm, feeling the stirring inside your belly getting wilder. Despite your weak attempts, your hips keeps grinding on his nose, showing no signs of stopping. You throw your head back.
You knew his nose would be the best thing to ride on, but hearing the slurps of your slick and his saliva—the sinful noises of him feasting on your cunt—makes you almost regret not letting him eat you out first.
"Ngh—Jaeyun—I'm close—"
Jake pulls your hips harder, letting you grind your clit on the tip of his nose as his tongue pushes into your hole mercilessly. You let out a high-pitched scream, muscles pulling tight at his ministrations. The double stimulations are fast pushing you over the edge.
Soon, white hot pleasure crashes into you, your vision turning black momentarily. It's so blurry and messy that you haven't realised that you've been screaming his name raw, hips unrelenting to chase the high. Jake swallows every drop of your sweet nectar, moaning into your spasming hole as he licks it clean.
Fuck. He's already desperate to have another round.
When you come down from your orgasm, hair matted to your forehead, you look down at him furiously.
"Let me go! I told you not to do it!" You attempt to sit up, but Jake doesn't let go, shaking his head with a pout. His nose and chin are drenched with your release, it's so sinful and filthy and you can't lie that you like seeing him so wrecked and fucked over like this.
"Can I have more? Please," he begs, kissing your inner thigh unhurriedly. He's already so addicted to the taste of you, Jake thinks he's gonna die if he doesn't have another fill. "I'll be so good to you, Y/N. Wanna eat you out so bad."
You grit your teeth, pushing away the temptation to save your pride. "No. Get up, Jaeyun."
But Jake is stubborn. He's so desperate to have more of you that he doesn't mind if he's leaving his own cock neglected and balls blue. "Please, I need it bad," he nudges at your pussy with his finger, pupils blown wide at the strings of sticky cum decorating your folds. "Fuck, please, Y/N, I want to eat you out."
"I said get up, Jaeyun."
"Y/N—"
"Jake."
The sharpness in your voice cuts through the haze instantly.
Jake stills immediately.
The desperation in his eyes flickers into something softer, more uncertain, like a scolded puppy finally realising he’s crossed a line. His grip on your thighs loosens at once, chest rising and falling hard beneath you.
The sound of his English name on your tongue feels foreign and almost painful, because it lacks the usual warmth and intimacy that your 'Jaeyun' usually holds. Yet, something inside him pulses harder, liking the change more than he'd like to admit.
“S-Sorry,” he whispers automatically, voice rough. “I just…”
He doesn’t even know how to explain it. How could he? That hearing you moan his name made him lose every coherent thought in his brain? That he’s spent days trying to stay away from you only to end up here, beneath you, completely ruined anyway?
You study him for a long moment before finally shifting off his face.
“Sit up.”
Jake obeys instantly.
The movement is clumsy and needy. His hair is a mess, lips swollen, face still flushed from lack of oxygen and desire. Without his glasses, his eyes look unbearably open like this—too honest, too vulnerable.
You cup his jaw gently, the touch losing its cruelty. Jake melts into it.
"There he is," you murmur softly, fixing his bangs that are obscuring his eyesight.
Jake can feel his heart stutter traitorously. This version of you—tender and sweet—a glimpse of the usual-you, is always more dangerous than any teasing.
Wordlessly, you tug at his shirt, and Jake obediently holds up his arms to let you peel away the fabric. Your eyes flick downward, amusement tugging at your lips.
"You know," you start, fingers trailing slowly down his sculpted chest, "for someone who acted terrified of touching me in the car…"
He groans softly, already embarrassed.
"…You were pretty damn desperate down there, Jaeyun."
His face burns hotter. Fine, he's just a touch-starved man, desperate for you in every way possible. But how could he not? Have you even looked at yourself?
"I-I can't help it…" His eyes drop to your lips. "You tasted so good."
A breathy chuckle escapes you, quiet and fond. But to Jake's ears, he's already hearing the wedding bells chime.
And suddenly the humiliation twisting in his chest eases into something warmer when you climb into his lap again, turning slowly until your back presses against his chest.
The exact same position. That fucking position in the car that has his mind on an endless frenzy that he thinks he was genuinely getting crazy.
Jake goes completely still beneath you.
“Oh,” you whisper, settling against him deliberately. “Now you’re quiet again?”
His hands hover uncertainly near your hips, like he still can’t believe he’s allowed to touch you.
“You’re mean,” he mumbles weakly against your shoulder. You laugh, one hand patting his hair as the other one aligning his neglected cock on your entrance.
"But I know you like it, Jaeyunnie."
At the same time you presses on the nickname, you sink onto his cock slowly, letting the bulbous head of his length spear you open.
The both of you moan simultaneously. Jake's hands find puchase on your waist, trying his best to stop from manhandling you to just fucking bounce on his dick and letting you adjust. You, on the other hand, let the stretch burn, your walls spasming to accommodate his length.
"S-So big," you stutter, taking him inch by inch. Jake drops his head on your shoulder, his own breathing ragged. "So—full—"
When he finally fits inside you to the brim, you let out a long, drawn-out moan. He fills you up so good that you can feel every vein against your walls, every pulse kissing your insides. It's a dizzying experience that prompts you to start moving your hips.
Jake’s fingers dig into your waist, trembling.
Not because he wants to stop you.
Because he’s trying so hard not to lose himself completely.
The position alone is enough to send him spiraling—your back against his chest, your body in his lap exactly like the car ride, except now there’s no seatbelt digging into his side, no boys teasing from the front seat, no restraint left between the two of you.
Just you and him.
And the devastating realisation that you wanted him too.
Jake lets out a broken sound against your shoulder when you move again, his forehead falling against your skin. His entire body feels feverish, overwhelmed by too much sensation and too many emotions crashing into him at once.
"Wasn't this what got you so hard, Jaeyunnie?" You pant between breathless moans. "Me in your lap, bouncing on your cock like this?"
"Ngh—" A strangled noise escapes his throat. Jake watches with bated breath as your hands find the clasp of your bra and finally let the two soft mounds free. Now, he badly wants you to turn around, eager to relive the scene of your bouncy breasts in Jay's car.
"Did you not—ah—crave this?"
You arch your back, pleasure tingling every nerves as his cock drags against your walls. Jake feels his dick throb inside your hole, the same position that ruined him now had him completely at your mercy.
"S-So tight," he whimpers, mouth falling open at the way you clench around his cock and roll your hips. "S-So fucking tight, Y/N, fuck."
Jake clings onto you desperately, bucking his hips to chase your movement. But you hold down a firm hand on his thigh, completely in charge.
"Don't," you warn, grinding down on him in a way that makes your ass ripple. "Or I'll get up and leave."
Jake freezes instantly.
The warning slices straight through him, sharp and effective. His hands tighten on your waist, but he forces his hips back against the mattress despite every instinct screaming at him to chase you harder.
“O-Okay,” he breathes quickly. “Okay. Sorry.”
God, he sounds wrecked.
You can feel the way his thighs tremble beneath yours, the strain in his breathing every time you move your hips slowly against him. Jake drops his forehead between your shoulder blades with a weak groan, like simply holding himself back is physically painful.
"I'm still mad at you," you murmur. You roll your hips again, faster this time, and Jake nearly whimpers into your shoulder. His jaw clenches so hard he might pop a vessel.
"Are you sure you're not the one—" you moan, your thighs burning from how fast you're exerting yourself. The wet sound of skin hitting skin starts getting louder the harder you slam down your hips. "The one who's being—mean?"
Jake sobs into your skin, half-regretting, half-dizzy. The tight heat of your cunt pulses and flutters around his dick and he genuinely feels horrible for only thinking using his other head now.
Even so, he still manages to apologise again. "I'm s-sorry—"
You clench around him on purpose. Jake digs his nails deeper. "Fuck—"
"Stop fucking apologising," you seethe, voice trembling as you feel your release getting near. "Delete her number or I'll sit in Sunghoon's lap when we get back to Seoul."
There's no bite in your threat. It's just a spur-of-the-moment kind of things, one that you say just to rile him up.
But Jake takes your words like a verdict. He snakes an arm around your waist, lips worshipping your skin in desperate, wet kisses.
"I'm sorry, Y/N, darling," he begs, tears clinging to his lashes. He bites his lips in an attempt to stop himself from moaning because he's so, so close. "I will block her. Fuck—I will delete her number. P-Please don't sit with S-Sunghoon—"
His speech is interrupted by a high-pitched whine. Jake hasn't come all night, he's nothing more than a thread waiting to snap. The moment you bounce harder and faster, the supple skin of your butt jiggling wilder, Jake can feel that he's about to come.
"Y/N—ah—p-puh—lease—" he whimpers, voice scratching at his throat. "'M close, 'm g-gonna cum—"
But he should've known that you're so, so mean.
The moment you lift off his cock, Jake genuinely sobs out loud, thrashing under you.
"No! No, please—" he chokes, hiding his crying face behind his hands, too shattered when his orgasm being denied again. "Please, no—I wanna cum, please."
You turn around and the sight of him—red-faced, wet cheeks, lips trembling—it softens your heart. You quickly pull his wrists and rest his hands on your hips, your own cupping his cheeks.
"I'm sorry, baby," you shush him, blowing kisses to the tip of his nose as you take him again. Jake whimpers quietly. "I'm so sorry—I'll let you cum this time, hm?"
Jake weakly nods, then lets out a soft moan at the familiar feeling of your walls enveloping him. You move again, already sore, but you no longer have it in you to torture your poor, poor Jaeyun. This time, you immediately begin with a fast pace, giving him a show of your tits bouncing with every thrust.
"Ah—fuck—Jaeyunnie—" you bite your lips, expression so erotic that it has the brown-haired boy drooling. "Glasses—like you better with glasses."
Jake is too dazed to register your words, so you pick the glasses on your own and put them on him. And there he is—your sweet, sweet boy, your Jaeyunnie that you adore so much, your Jaeyun that thinks it's bad for wanting you this much.
"S-So—handsome, Jaeyunnie," you roll your hips, chest arching into his face. "My nerdy boy, you're mine, hm?"
Jake physically cannot take it anymore. The sight of you on top of him, bouncing on his cock like your life depends on it, putting on his glasses and calling him yours—it's too much for Sim Jaeyun who's never been given this kind of attention and affection.
Especially from you.
His lips move, but you can barely hear him.
"Hm? What did you say?"
"I said I'm sorry, Y/N," his nails dig into your waist. "I'm so fucking sorry, please don't be mad at me."
Your brows furrow in confusion, but before you know it, Jake is already flipping you around, changing your position in one swift movement. You have half a second to gain your breath before the boy hovering over you pulls you closer by your ankles and throws your legs over his shoulders.
"I'm s-sorry," Jake stutters, slipping his dick back into your cunt and starts thrusting fast. "I-I can't hold it anymore."
Despite the showcase of his strength, Jake looks absolutely ruined. There's a flicker of guilt in his eyes, but from the pace he's railing you, you know that his lust ovverrides whatever little guilt he has.
Soon enough, the air smells so thickly of sex. The sound of his balls slapping your ass, accompanied by your high-pitched moans and his groans are the only one filling up the space, to the point that you're sure one of the boys must've heard you.
It's so hot and filthy that Jake's glasses are all fogged up again. His grip on your waist is now leaving bruises, but you don't care because all you can think of is Jake, Jake's big cock, Jake's stupid glasses and just Jake, Jake, Jake.
"F-f-f-fuck," he exhales shakily, splitting you open with his cock. "I-I'm so—close—"
You thrash around, fisting the sheets until it tears from the force of your nails. "Jaeyun—" you gasp when he keeps abusing that spot that has you seeing stars. "Oh, fuck—Jaeyun—harder—"
Jake leans forward, straining his arms on either side of your head. His glasses slide down his slick nose slightly when he bends down to capture your lips in his thick ones. You both moan into the kiss, finally getting the taste of each other, tongues already clashing for more.
Jake licks into your mouth, hips never faltering, and sucks on your bottom lip. You whimper, the sensation becoming too much until you're just breathing against his lips, all heat and teeth and saliva. Jake groans.
"I-I'm gonna—cum—" he gasps against your mouth, face scrunching in pleasure when you clench around him. "O-Oh my fucking God, Y/N, fuck—please let me cum inside."
His hands find your waist again, thrusting harder than before. His head drops to your shoulder as he begs, again and again.
"P-Please let me cum inside, please," he whimpers, voice needy and whiny. "Please—I'm gonna—I wanna—"
"Just cum," you moan when his teeth scrape against your skin. "Jae—Jaeyunnie—"
Jake groans. With last few, deliberate thrusts, he finally cums—a full-body orgasm that has him shuddering, his cock spurting out rope after thick rope of his release, painting your walls white.
You follow him just a second after, vision blurring for a moment as your second orgasm rips through your body. Your mouth falls open on a silent scream, eyes rolling back from how delicious your climax is.
Jake takes a long moment breathing into your ear, grinding his hips slowly before he's finally pulling out. He hisses as he drags out his cock, careful not to overstimulate you, and watches in awe as white fluid flowing out of your pulsing cunt.
"Oh my fucking God."
You breathe out a laugh, sounding breathless and disbelieving. Seeing Jake sitting still by your legs, you open your arms toward him.
"C'mere, Jaeyunnie. Let's cuddle for a moment before washing up—I'm too sore to walk."
Jake perks up at that. Gone is the hungry, lust-driven boy a few moments ago, now replaced with the shy, kicked puppy holding his tail between his legs.
"Cuddle?" he echoes, unsure. "Are you not mad at me?"
"I could never be mad at you for too long," you reply, giving him a reassuring smile.
It gives Jake a flicker of hope. He scoots closer, still cautious and observing, like approaching a scared animal.
"But I avoided you…"
You drop your arms and pretend to think, making a show of tapping your chin with a finger.
"You're right. You were mean for that. Why don't you carry me to the bathroom and clean me up so we can cuddle afterwards?"
Hearing that, Jake finally relaxes, his tight muscles loosening. With an eager smile, he scoops an arm under your knees and your back, and then lifts you up easily as if you weigh nothing.
"Your wish is my command, my princess."
The next morning, you receive knowing looks from the boys. There are lingering stares on your neck from where Jake was mauling your skin last night, but you have no problem showing them off.
Jake, on the other hand, is on the edge of another breakdown.
"So, Jake," Jay starts, already planning a mischievous teasing inside his head. "How did it feel like to get railed—"
"I did not get railed!" he squeaks, ears blushing red. "I-I was the one who railed her! Right, Y/N?"
There's a laugh bubbling inside your chest as you watch Jake squirm under the relentless teasing of his friends. It felt good to be the one in charge, but after that display of strength and the way he manhandled you last night?
You don't mind having him on top of you.
But the both of you know who's truly in charge.
And if you choose to sit in his lap again, this time grinding and shifting on purpose that he gets hard until the car reaches Seoul, nobody has to know that.
film contains…….You are doing skin care for your best friend by sitting on his lap as usual, while he is gaming, but accidentally grind on him, ending up with his cock inside you
film caution …….MINORS DO NOT INTERACT Unprotected sex(don’t do it) dry humping, making out/ kissing, grinding, fingering, edging, nipple play, talking abt fem!reader body parts, neck kisses, nipping the neck, spanking, usage of the word ass, clit play?, mentions of nick names like baby and etc, riding, tell me if anything more should be mentioned.
film length………5.2min(5.2k)
film keeper whispers ……….This is my first ever time publishing fic, I’m learning to write since I imagine a lot, I want to get it into words and now I got an idea for this with the help of Pinterest 😪. I tried my best, and slowly I’m gonna start my oneshot, idk how long it’s gonna be 🤷♀️. If any mistakes, let me know. Please request if u want anything. I will try my best to write butI’m a slow writer 😢. Would love moots, reblogs and likes ♥️
film melody playing……….. into you- ariana grande
˚ ༘ 🎞️ ｡𖦹 ° 🎥 ⁀જ⁀➴ film starting……..
The chaotic bursts of neon light from the monitors washes over the room, casting long, jagged shadows against the walls of Heeseung’s room.
The room smells of expensive cologne, ozone from the humming PC, carrying the faint and sterile scent of rosewater and gentle soap in the air.
You are seated on Heeseung’s lap, straddling his hips, knees around them, on his chair, facing him in a position that the friction of your thighs against his jogger’s can’t be ignored.
Heeseung is fully concentrating on his game for now.
His eyes are sharp, darting to every move in the game, playing it very carefully though you are quite a distraction to him.
The headset he has on is filled with sounds of explosions and gunshots, and he pushes one piece of the headset aside so he can hear you.
You hold a small glass jar aloe vera gel, the product cool and smooth between your fingertips.
You’ve been massaging it on his face for the past ten minutes or maybe you just use it as an excuse to stay on his lap longer.
But then still, you don’t care about the game he was playing, you just wanted to end the ‘washing face with whatever soap is there in the shower’ routine for him, so he can get good and fresh skin.
“Stop moving idiot” you murmur, voice soft but firm and commanding him a little because he keeps on moving.
You can feel the heat radiating from him as you blend the cream on his face in small upwards circles.
His jaw is clenched, trying his best not to feel you and your stupid tactics as a distraction, which you are sitting innocently on his lap like you don't understand what’s wrong in doing this.
“I’m in an important fight, Y/N” he grunts, though there’s no real anger behind his voice.
“If I lose this round, I’m gonna blame you and your so-called skincare routine” he adds, mocking lightly.
“Uhh, my skincare routine is obviously way better than whatever you do in the stupid shower,” you retort, sliding your fingers on his temple now.
“No soap is gonna clean your face like my skincare does, your skin feel shit, and it’s screaming for help, so think of this as an upgrade for your face”
He lets out a laugh, his eyes fixed towards the screen. “Sure,” he says as if it’s nothing, “My skin has a mouth and it’s screaming”.
You roll your eyes at that, moving a little back so you can look at him even though he doesn’t.
“Just because it doesn’t have a loud, cocky mouth like you, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist,” you shoot back.
“And for your kind information,” you continue, leaning closer to his face again, to spread the gel on his face, “You’re skin is so dehydrated, maybe it looks fine, but it really isn’t, so be grateful”
“I should be— What? grateful? Why? And what? I have a cocky mouth?” he splutters, turning towards you showing an exaggerated, horrified expression which was totally just acting.
"First place, I don’t even care about my skin, Second, you should be grateful that I’m letting you do this while I’m literally in the middle of a serious fight, Third—”
“Hey, dont move!,” you interrupt, pushing back his face towards the screen.
“I can’t do it properly, if you keep moving” you add and he becomes quiet and goes back to playing his game very seriously.
You slowly get even more closer to his face.
For real, you’ve done this almost a hundred times before, sitting on his lap touching his face and all stuff, but today something in the air feels different.
For the first time the closeness doesn’t feel normal.
It feels dangerous, surreal and maybe something new.
Every time he breathes near you, every time his chest brushes against yours, you feel your pulse raise.
You try to ignore it, focusing your attention back to what you are doing, but it only makes it worse, because now, you’re actually looking at him.
The sharp line of his nose, the long lashes that fall against his skin, the bambi-like looking eyes, and then your gaze drops down— unintentionally.
You blink, realizing you are staring at him, you shake your head slightly to clear it, pushing those sudden, distracting thoughts away as quickly as they come.
You don't want to be caught by him, which will only make it more embarrassing.
You quickly turn back to your work— properly this time.
So, you shift your weight, moving closer to him, trying to adjust the position so reaching the bridge of his nose would be easier.
As you move, your thighs slide against his joggers, hips very slightly against each other, the friction sending a sudden spark through your body, but you push it away.
It was just a small moment for you, which you just want to ignore, but it sent a shudder through Heeseung’s body which you didn’t know.
“Fuck—” Heeseung groans, throwing his head back against the chair, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down, suddenly gripping your hip with one hand so tightly as you freeze at the pressure.
“Don’t—Don’t fucking do that, I’m trying my best to concentrate, baby” he forces out softly, the words tight as he grits his teeth.
You don’t understand what happened.
One second, you’re applying the gel on his face, moving closer to reach his nose—and the next, he throws his head against the chair and it’s pissing you since you already told him to not move.
“I said to not move, Heeseung!! And seriously, it’s not my mistake that you can’t concentrate on your game” you say, a hint of irritation slipping through your voice.
You don’t understand what is wrong or what is his problem, even though it was quite obvious you couldn’t figure it out, so you just get back to working on his face.
You shift your weight again, trying to adjust your position to get a better angle on his face, slightly moving left.
This movement causes your leggings to unintentionally rub your thigh against his growing hardness.
“Baby, fuck—“ he rasps, as his other hand also leaves keyboard to grab the other side of your hip and holds you so tightly with both of the hands that you were sure it will leave few bruises by tomorrow.
His head abruptly falls on your shoulder as the room fills with the loud harsh blares from the monitor which indicates he lost the game but you didn’t know it.
“Heeseung what the—” before you could even scold him, you gasp from him pulling you down, pressing you against him in a way that you can feel his big bulge on your core.
“Heeseung….” you whisper, your voice trembling.
“Don’t—fucking don’t,” he starts, speaking as his head is still on your shoulder, you hear it in his voice, how he is trying his all best to control himself.
“Don’t tell me stop when all I was doing was sitting here….trying my all best to control myself, while here you are sitting on my fucking lap, moving how ever you want……. God! Y/N you’ve been killing me here, I can’t stop anymore—”
He stops talking, lifting his head from your shoulder before capturing your lips in a searing, aching, desperate kiss, hands moving from your hips to your waist, gripping it so tightly it knocks the air out of your lungs.
He kisses you rough, like gentleness isn’t even an option right now, like he’s done holding back, done pretending this doesn’t mean anything as the gel smears on your face from his face.
All the years of your friendship, when he did his best to hold back, but now he’s done.
For a second you forget how to breathe, the intensity, the desperation and the desire from his mouth against yours, knocking the thoughts out of your brain.
You don’t even process the fact that HE, HE, your best friend is kissing you right now. Never in a million years did you think this out of all would happen—a lie you had a lot of sex dreams with him cuz he was too hot, and……..never mind.
You are still trying to process this when the grip on your waist tightens to pull you out of your thoughts.
The jar slips from your hand, shattering into pieces, and gel spreads everywhere on the floor, but you don’t even notice it.
You melt against him, your hand slowly moving from his shoulder to the nape of his neck, fingers curling tightly in the hair as you pull him closer and kiss him back with the same desire, desperation and intensity.
He lets out a low deep growl, something filled with satisfaction like he knew you would kiss him without holding back.
It vibrates through your whole body, slowly heat starts coiling up in your lower belly more than what you felt a while ago.
You start feeling needy and want him more than you ever did.
But then he pulls back, forehead against yours, his breath hot, and his lips swollen from the hard rough kiss.
“Tell me to stop—” he whispers against your mouth in a low hoarse, octave voice which sends a shiver through your body.
You shake your head instantly before he can even finish.
“No,” you whisper, the word barely leaving your throat. “Don’t. Please don’t ”
You roll your hips against his voluntarily.
You need more.
You need the friction to not be a tease and start being the truth. The reality.
“Fuck—“ Heeseung hisses the moment he hears the deny and feels the roll of your hips directly against his bulge.
This time you’ve done it on purpose, you need more and you are clearly showing it.
He roughly grabs your jaw,tilting your head back, and crashing his lips on to yours again.
This time it’s all tongue and teeth, he doesn’t ask for permission, he claims it like it’s his.
You gasp into the kiss, this was more aggressive and desperate han before.
He takes his chance to enter his tongue into your mouth when you gasp.
His tongue plunges into your mouth, taking in your whispers and every inch of your mouth, he doesn’t waste a single single second.
His palm is hot.
He moves his hand from your waist to your hips as they slowly slip under your long hoodie or probably his which you wear all the time.
His hands move on your lower back, pulling you closer that there isn’t a millimetre also left between you both.
He breaks the kiss to move lower, his lips dragging along your jaw, sucking gently, before moving down to the column of your throat.
You tilt your head back without thinking, giving him more, your fingers going to his shoulders to hold tightly as his kisses grow firmer, more lingering.
“Hee….mm….Hee…” your breath stutters, his name coming from your mouth like a chant, unsteady whispers, which you can’t hold back anymore.
His hand moves down to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze before delivering a spank.
His palm against your ass made you leave out a loud gasp, your back arching slightly.
He doesn’t pull away, he soothes it down slowly, in a way it makes your toe curl.
The literal sensation sends sparks right over to your core, making you clench a round nothing.
He starts placing open mouthed kisses near your collarbone and neck, his breath hot and damp, leaving the warmth of his mouth behind.
He moves below your ear, instantly financing your sweet spot and nips your skin lightly.
You let out a sharp cry, breathing unsteadily.
The moment you let it out, he leans in again, nipping it harder than before, sucking a dark, purple mark, visibly claiming you.
He follows down to your collarbone, nipping wherever he finds your sweet spots to let out those sweet little sounds that feel like music to his ears.
You don’t stop, you keep whimpering his name, gasping when his tongue darts out to lick gently after nipping on your sweet spots.
You are drenched.
Your panties are suffocatingly tight because of the silk clinging to your folds as you leak for him.
You need him.
You need to feel full.
You were sure it is making it hard to even take in air properly just because of his hot kisses on your body.
One of his hands tugs the hem of your hoodie, asking you permission if he was allowed to remove it while he was still busy marking you up.
“Yes! Please—remove it” you please, your voice cracking a little bit.
He doesn’t even take a second to tug it off, the moment you accept it, in one fluid motion he pulls it off you.
For a second he freezes.
You aren’t wearing a bra, the cool air hitting your bare skin, making your nipples harden and maybe you weren’t even sure if it was air or his gaze all over your body making you turn again and again and again…..
You aren’t wearing anything else except the black lace of your panties peeking out of your tiny shorts you wore.
“Fuck baby—” he growls, his eye’s darkening, pupils expanding until his hazel is almost entirely black.
He looks at you like you’re both sin and miracle given to him at once.
“This is what you have been gatekeeping from me, huh?” he asks, his hands moving to cup the underside of your breast, lifting them up slightly, as his thumb slightly grazes over the peck.
You whimper, throwing your head back at that little touch surge of pleasure shoots to your core.
“This tiny waist,” his hands moving to the mid section, squeezing the softness there, devouring your body with his eyes.
“These wide, beautiful hips,” his finger moving on the waistband, pulling the elastic tight.
He bends a little, pressing a hot, lingering kiss right above the fabric of your panties, his lips grazing the skin of your hip.
The sensation sends a jolt through your body, sending shivers as your legs shake.
“Including the ass you’ve been teasing me with for years,” he said his voice filled with lust and love, and then he looks at you, how you look wrecked just for his touch.
He spanks you again, harder and more firm this time.
You cry out, a sound filled with shock, pleasure and pain, but please wins it all for now.
You thought he would probably soothe it again but no, it was paining harder but he made no movement to touch or soothe it, just casually leans back on to the chair.
He just lets it linger there, making it a reminder for you.
To remind you, who you actually belong to though he hasn’t fucked the shit out you yet.
Now his gaze isn’t on your face, it moves lower.
Your neck. No
Your collarbone. No
Your Shoulders. No
Just shamelessly, directly looking at your breasts with a hungry gaze, something you wanted to see all along.
“And finally……these beautiful, big boobs” he whispers.
He bends down, his lips hovering right over your breast, his hot breath teasing your nipples.
And then he pecks it…..to just tease you more.
The moment his hot breath was on your nipple.
Just his hot breath.
Hot.
Breath.
You found yourself getting hungrier for him, you didn’t want him to tease you, you needed him, right then and there.
He knew it, he knew how you felt, how you are breathing, how you need him, but won’t give you what you want right now.
“Hee please—” you grind on him again but he holds back your hips making you stop, before you please again or tell him how badly you need him.
Then he starts sucking it, like he can’t hold back anymore, like this was the last thing left on the earth, maybe even like he was thirsty for them.
He wants to tease you, but couldn't hold himself back from you either, that grinding, those pleas from your mouth, made him rethink his decision from teasing you.
You could hear his sucking sounds, wet and vulgar, because of the wetness of his saliva spreading on to your nipples.
Your back arches, your hands instinctively find his hair, gripping it tightly.
He groans at the tight pull of his hair, making him harder underneath.
He sucks on your nipples, tongue circling around the peck, and tugging it slightly before sucking it again, doing the same thing over and over again, while his other hand finds your breast, squeezing, kneading it and rolling your nipple in between his fingers.
You moan, loud, honest, no stopping.
The pleasure was too good.
Your hips start bucking instantly against his bulge again, rolling your hips harder than before, grinding more.
He notices it as he pulls back from sucking with a wet plop.
“Eager now baby?” He teases, his voice dropping low.
You nod, hips moving harder, searching for friction.
For a second he thought to let you do something at least for yourself or not stopping you like he was before but no, straight away his hands move to your hips stopping you right when you thought it was getting better.
Then he bends down and moves to the other breast without a word to you, giving it the same attention as before, while his other hand was on the breast which was wet from his saliva, but still playing with it, satisfying you with his hand.
It was good, undeniably you like you, but the fact that your pussy was throbbing to be filled was not ignorable.
You didn't want to wait.
“Hee….please…please..I need you so bad—ahh” you let out a sharp cry as he bites down your nipples, his hands lowering, across your thighs and rids your shorts from your legs without asking you.
“Needy baby?” He asks as he pulls back, like knew nothing.
“Hee—ahhh” you moan when his fingers touch the wetness of your pussy just through the lace black panties.
“So wet for me baby” he coos as he feels the moisture soaking through the lace.
He finally strips them away also, leaving you bare on his lap, pressing against him.
The contact is sharp, as now you are directly pressing against the rough fabric over his bulge.
He finds his way to your clit, pressing on the swollen bud right away, rubbing it in circles with no patience, but with punishing pressure that makes your vision blur.
Your mouth opens, letting out sharp breaths, eyes shut, finally getting whatever you’ve been longing for, you instinctively bite down on your lips as choked sobs and moans come out of your throat.
“No baby, don’t bite your lip, don’t stop, moan for me, darling” he says softly, before pushing 2 fingers into your soaking warmth at once.
You scream from the sudden push, it wasn’t warned, it was too sudden.
He starts pushing deeper into your spongy walls, as your walls clench around his fingers, he groans in your neck, his fingers curling in spots making you moan and vision blur from the pleasure.
“Fuck baby, thats it, take my fingers like a good girl” he finally adds the third finger, stretching you apart as you wail, and then heeseung leans to kiss you again, tongue entering your mouth directly, taking in all your sounds while pumping his fingers in and out, while his thumb presses and circles on your bud.
He moves faster, pulling away from the kiss, gripping your hips tightly while pumping his fingers faster, your hands move to his shoulders tightening as you squeeze your eyes shut tightly, while whimpering and gasping, leaving out breathy huffs.
As you feel your orgasm building, tightening low in your belly, just the tension in your thighs becomes unbearable.
“Hee— I’m—” before could even finish your sentence, he pulled out his fingers, just only the pad of his thumb pressing over your swollen clit, trapping the pleasure before it could explode.
Your eyes open wide, blown in shock as a moan of frustration screeches from your throat at the literal loss of his fingers inside.
“Hee, why–” you gasp, hips bucking instinctively towards his hand wanting more.
“Mmm” he just hums, looking down at your pussy while circling your clit, rubbing it in small circles but never quite providing the friction you need to tip over the edge.
“Hee, please!” you whine, trying to grind his hand, but he holds your hip tight enough to not let you move, he is still looking at your pussy, but then finally looks up.
Eyes dark with lust, his smoldering gaze at you making you pause for a second before he says “please, what?” in a low octave, his voice sounding husky.
“I-I need to come,” you wail, grinding on his bulge over his rough fabric making you want more, in fact you’ve never felt this needy.
Him edging you just made it worse, you couldn't take the teasing now, you need him and you won't stop asking for it.
“please hee please I need you, I want you so badly. I can’t take it anymore!!” you beg.
He chuckles, a dark, hungry sound.
He doesn't put his fingers back in you or do anything you asked for.
Instead, he starts to kiss you, deep, demanding kisses that taste of mint and desperation.
The intensity of the kiss swallows you while leaving you breathless and your hands move to his head, running your hands through his long, lustrous black hair.
His tongue slides against yours, sucking and swirling desperately while sliding down his joggers and boxer to pull his cock out.
He pulls away from the kiss, pulling your head back away from his.
You look down into his hands and the moment you saw it, you were starstuck.
He is big.
Not big like you think, very big in a way you weren't sure if you could even take him.
It was shocking.
You knew this was coming, when you guys crossed your lines today but god he is just so big.
His cock is big, fucking standing straight, curling a little but still so so straight in way you never stood in your whole life, wow, it is hot and swollen, throbbing as the tip is in a beautifully pink color, glistening with precum as he held the shaft in his hand.
You are staring at it shamelessly, because who wouldn't look at something so beautiful and gorgeous.
“Like what you see baby?” he asks, when he caught you staring at his cock.
You snap out of your thoughts, raising your head up, eyes locking on to his eyes, as your cheeks burn from embarrassment.
“Want it inside you baby?” he questions as he feels your arousal just by looking at you face.
You nod slightly and that's what it takes before he jerks it on your pussy once, slapping his cock against it a few times, spreading his precum all over.
An unfiltered screech comes out of your throat, showing how needy you are when he slaps the tip on your pussy.
You move a little, rubbing it a little on his cock, whimpering a little.
“You want it so bad right? You’ll get it baby” he doesn't wait another second.
He grips your waist and heaves you upward and then slams you down on to his cock.
Your hands find their way to his shoulders as you scream into the crook of his neck when he buries himself, all the way to the hilt inside you in one fluid, powerful motion.
The fullness is overwhelming, a blunt pressure that hits your cervix and sends ripples of pleasure radiating through your entire lower body.
The sensation is overwhelming, the feeling of being completely filled, the stretch of your pussy, the sudden, intense heat of him deep within your pussy.
You feel your internal muscles spasm around him, clamping down tight, clenching it so tight which makes Heeseung leave a raw guttural growl out feeling you all around him.
His cock twitches inside you, showing how badly he needed this.
“Baby–fuck, so tight…you feel so good baby” he says, his hands sliding down to your ass gripping.
You stay still for a moment, both of you catching your breath, the only sound the heavy thrum of the PC fans and your synchronized gasping.
The gaming chair creaks as you begin to move, tentatively at first, lifting your hips a few inches and then sliding back down.
You only lift an inch before slamming back down, the impact making the gaming chair rock precariously.
The feeling of him filling inside you was so so good, that you didn't care about anyone hearing your moans, as your moans echo all through the room.
Your grip on his shoulder tightens as the pleasure of him being inside you, stretching you apart with his cock was the best feeling you ever felt.
The squelching and wet sounds of your pussy moving on his cock, taking him all the way down to his shaft, then moving back halfway, and falling back down, with your moans and Heeseung’s groans fill you the room.
The sounds are lewd, obscene or even pornographic, it didn't feel real.
You riding your best friend's cock feels like a dreaming true.
You slowly find your rhythm, more confident, more desperate.
Your mouth falls agape, moaning loudly every time you ride him, head falls back as the tip hits that spot that makes you see stars, your breasts bounce with every downward thrust, your hardened nipples scrape against his shirt every time.
“Yes, just like that baby” he groans as his head hits the chair, while he grips your ass and starts lifting you higher so he can move deeper.
You are desperate now, the need for release overriding everything.
The friction against your clit is intense, a searing heat that builds with every slide.
You lean forward, your hair falling over your face, your mouth finding his again.
The kiss is sloppy, desperate, the sound of your tongues clashing mixing with the wet slaps of your bodies.
Tentatively, Heeseung also starts moving his hips up, thrusting upward slowly, testing the waters to see how it would be.
And fuck it, it was so so so good.
“Ahh” you moan as the tip of his cock hits deeper in your pussy, as your walls clench around him in pleasure.
You scream into his mouth, it is so intense, your pussy takes him all the way on to his shaft.
You keep riding him until you feel that low tingling feeling in your lower stomach.
You are about to come, you needed it any minute now.
You are moving faster, breath uneven, shamelessly moaning so loudly, you are sure your neighbours could hear it but you couldn't care less.
“Ngh heee” you wail, you dont know if its pain or pleasure or all together but it was good and stretching you apart and finally you are about to come.
“Hee–hee i-m im coming!!” you choke out, the orgasm is about to come as he moves his hips faster, thrusting harder.
“Yes baby, yes, come for me, come on my cock baby” he says, holding your hips, gripping it so hard, it could leave red marks on it and speeding up the movements, slamming you down onto his cock, taking control.
“Ahh–mm yess, yess im coming!!” you throw your head back, a loud, uncontrolled cry escaping your lips as waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you breathless and shaking.
Heeseung doesnt stop, he fucks you through it, chasing his orgasm.
“Hee—” you scream so loudly, it was too much, you are overstimulating, you coat his cok, milking it all the way.
“I-i cant..too much–”
“Yess, you can, you can for me baby” his movements becoming faster, more erratic. He's grunting now, the sounds guttural and raw.
He lifts you slightly and then slams you down, the leather of the chair creaking loudly under the strain.
The sound of your pussy engulfing him is a wet, rhythmic squelch, the air being pushed out of your orifice in small, needy puffs.
“Im-im coming baby” he moves faster again and again.
“Im gonna fill you up, you’re gonna take me like a good girl and fill me up right?” he says as he looks at you and captures your lips into kiss again.
You feel him tense, his entire body turning to stone beneath you.
With one final, deep thrust that feels like it reaches your very soul, he lets out a loud, guttural roar, his entire body tensing.
He gives one final, massive thrust, burying himself as deep as possible as you feel the hot, pulsing jets of his cum hitting your cervix, filling you up, the liquid warmth spreading through your internals.
“Fuck–take it baby”
You moan as he fills you up, while he grunts and finally comes undone inside you which felt so so so good.
As the intensity fades, he doesn't move.
He keeps you pressed against him, his heart hammering against your ribs.
You can feel his cock slowly softening inside you, though he remains deep within. A small amount of semen and lubricant leaks from the junction of your bodies, dripping onto the black leather of the chair with a soft patter.
“That was–soo good” you whisper to him.
He smiles, that goddamn smile that melts you right away, probably even your bones.
He pushes a wet hair stand behind your hair as he finally speaks.
“Very good. Are you happy?” he asks and that genuinely made you feel happy that he was asking your opinion.
You nod, you look wrecked so did he, both of you breathing heavily, faces flushed.
“Are you ok?” he asks you sweetly after showing his dark side which you loved and so did you like that gentleness in his which made your heart filp and beat faster.
You blush as you nod and hide your face in the crook of his neck.
“Dont hide baby” he pulls you back cupping your face.
“Mm” you whine sweetly.
He kisses your forehead gently.
"So," he says, a small, tired smile playing on his lips. "I think I lost that match."
You let out a soft laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder.
"Worth it?"
"The best loss of my life," he whispers, kissing your temple.
Heeseug twitches inside you, making you whimper.
“You’re still inside me hee” you say to him as it hurts a little but don't bother but it's still sticky and messy altogether.
But then he shrugs it off as if it's nothing, you frown and ask him “what?” and try to pull away.
He doesn't let you, he slams you back down as you scream and squeal from shock.
“Hee–” then while you are still inside him, he abruptly stands up, while still holding you tightly around your waist and still inside you.
“Ready for round 2 baby” he asks as you widen your eyes in shock while his cock gets stiff all the way till his shaft again.
“Hee~” he crashes his lips on to yours slamming you onto the wall and starts moving inside you.
GENRE/CW: smut (multiple scenes), angst, fluff, porn with plot, down bad hee, switch!hee, lowkey subby hee, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), lots of kissing, cunnilingus, blowjob, dry humping, fingering, sexting, phone sex, mutual masturbation, multiple orgasms, marking, crying. mentions of nicknames, messy feelings, lmk if i missed anything!
WORD COUNT: 24.7k words!
SYNOPSIS: Money can’t buy loyalty, and neither can years of friendship. After your boyfriend and your best friend decide to fuck each other behind your back, the only silver lining is Heeseung—the one person who looks as hollow as you feel. It begins as a petty revenge kiss and a no-strings situationship, but what will you do if it slowly turns into something dangerously real?
A/N: hihi loves <3 sorry for the wait, i had to edit a few scenes but here we are now, i hope you guys enjoy the fic, also i love jaem (sorry jaem), moon nics ricey cameo lets gaurrr <3 all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <3
It really was a sight to see.
Your best friend pressed up against your boyfriend like they’d invented the concept of gravity, her hands shamelessly roaming under the hem of his shirt while his mouth dragged along the line of her neck.
No shame, not even a flicker of it. To the drunk, sweating crowd around them, it probably just looked like another hazy corner of the party—two bodies tangled in the dim lights, music blasting so loud it swallowed any guilt, if they cared to harbour any that is, but you saw everything.
To be more precise, you found out yesterday when they got bold enough to fuck each other at your boyfriend’s apartment, and oblivious enough to not notice your presence, or your low chuckle at the depravity of the situation. Instead of feeling mad, you felt that bone deep numbness. Why trust anyone at this point?
Emotionally unavailable, the label had never sounded so accurate, but was it truly your fault when you never felt the need to expect anything from him? It certainly was an experience faking your orgasms for him, but you cared on the deeper levels—well, till you found him balls deep inside your now ex best friend.
So you sat there now on the worn leather couch, legs crossed, drink dangling from your fingers, watching them like it was just another Tuesday night show.
“Oh hey—you’re here! Have you seen Mina?”
The voice cut through the haze of music and chatter, slightly breathless. You turned your head slowly, lashes lowering just a fraction as your gaze landed on Heeseung.
He stood a few feet away, tall and striking even in the crowd, dark maroon hair tousled like he’d rushed all the way here. His sharp jaw was tense, brows drawn together in mild confusion as he scanned the room. The leather jacket hanging off his broad shoulders caught the shifting lights, and for a moment, you wondered how he’d react to the news of his girlfriend in the arms of his best friend.
You tilted your head, lips curving into a slow, amused smile that didn’t quite reach your eye,
“yeah,” you said, voice smooth as you clicked your tongue, “right over there.”
You lifted your glass in a lazy gesture toward the corner, and Heeseung followed your line of sight. The shift in his expression was immediate and downright visceral. His eyes widened, pupils blown with disbelief as he took in the scene of Mina’s leg hooked shamelessly around his best friend’s hip, her mouth pressed to the underside of his jaw while his hands roamed with practiced familiarity.
The way they moved together spoke of stolen nights and secret touches—months, maybe longer.
“They’re cheating,” you added lightly, almost conversationally, as if commenting on the weather as you took a slow sip from your drink, “bold choice, doing it in plain sight like this. Guess they figured neither of us would actually show up tonight—I mean, I did mention I wouldn’t.”
Heeseung’s adam’s apple bobbed visible, a flash of hurt brewed behind his eyes, before it ignited this anger within him, “what the fuck—” the words slipped out rather hoarse, broken.
He didn’t really look at you, eyes locked on them as if he couldn’t look away. Before you could say anything else, he was moving, pushing through the dense crowd with single-minded intensity. You watched his retreating back for a moment, that same curiosity curling in your chest. It would’ve been a sight to stay and watch the fireworks, sure, but you just got up.
You wove through the crowd without hurry, heels clicking softly up the narrow wooden stairs, each step carrying you farther from the mess downstairs.
The upstairs hallway was dimmer, and at the end of it, the balcony door was wide open, letting the night air slip in. You stepped outside, pulling a cigarette from the pack tucked in your jacket, lips closing around it as you flicked your lighter.
First drag hit deep, filling your lungs with that bitter, familiar burn. You leaned against the railing, letting the smoke curl out slow between your parted lips, eyes half-lidded against the wind tugging at your hair.
For a minute, everything felt almost peaceful, comfortable even, then the door scraped open behind you, and Heeseung stepped out, breathing hard like he’d run the whole way up. His hair was messier now, dark burgundy strands falling into his eyes, and his face—god, his face was a wreck. Eyes glassy with everything he was trying not to feel, cheeks flushed, mouth pressed into a thin, angry line.
Without asking, he closed the distance in two long strides and plucked it right from your lips.
A surprised little chuckle slipped out of you before you could stop it, and you observed how he took a deep, shaky drag from where your lipstick had stained the cigarette, holding it in for long before he blew the smoke up toward the dark sky. His free hand gripped the railing tight enough that his knuckles went white.
“Fucking hell,” he rasped, voice rough, “how long? Just—tell me how long they’ve been doing this behind our backs.”
“Since at least yesterday,” you said, “I walked in on them fucking in his dorm, didn’t even have the decency to lock the door,” a faint smile ghosted your lips, “I just closed it again and left.”
Heeseung’s head turned toward you slowly, eyes wide with shock, the cigarette nearly slipping from his fingers, “you saw them and didn’t say shit?”
You shrugged, “what was there to say? They wanted each other, and I’ve never been the type to drown myself that deeply anyway. It just felt odd to see Mina do it, that part did affect me, years of friendship drowned for what? A guy.”
Heeseung let out a disbelieving huff, running a hand through his already tousled hair, “Jaemin was my best friend, man. We’ve been tight since freshman year—shared everything. And now this?” His voice cracked slightly, “feels like a fucking knife in the back from both sides. They looked guilty for a second but didn’t even bother following me here to explain themselves, though they did have the audacity to ask me not to tell you.”
You studied him for a moment through his ramble, the way the balcony light cast sharp shadows across his sharp jaw and the pained lines around his eyes. He looked devastatingly undone, yet there was something resilient in the way he stood there, refusing to crumble completely. The sight stirred a spark in your chest—that familiar free-spirited curiosity.
You passed the cigarette back to him after a puff, “people reveal their true colors eventually. It’s pragmatic to accept it and keep moving instead of letting it rot you from the inside.”
Silence stretched between you, thick with shared betrayal. Heeseung took another drag, then offered it back, his gaze lingering on your face with astute observation, like he was trying to peel back the layers of your calm detachment, he just couldn’t understand how you seemed so—unaffected?
You crushed the cigarette against the railing and flicked it into the night. That proactive restlessness bloomed brighter inside you, eyes gleaming with mischievous insight.
“Wanna do something fun?” You asked.
Heeseung blinked, lips parting in surprise, “fun? Like right now?”
“Mhm,” you stepped closer, “are you okay with a kiss, Heeseung?”
His breath hitched audibly, throat bobbing, “a—a kiss?” The word came out hoarse, almost stunned. His gaze dropped to your mouth, lingering, before snapping back up, cheeks flushing darker, “you serious?”
“Very,” you held his stare, “yes or no?”
“Isn’t that cheating?” He looked devastatingly clueless even mumbling that question, and you raised your brow.
“Yes or no?” You asked again.
He searched your face, the raw pain still churning, but something hungrier kindled beneath it—curiosity. After a beat, he gave one slow nod making you chuckle.
You took his hand and led him back down into the party’s suffocating crowd, and he followed without asking any questions. In the corner, Jaemin and Mina were still shamelessly entangled, her arms looped around his neck, his hands possessive on her hips.
You stepped straight into their space without hesitation, grabbing Jaemin’s arm to pull him back.
The sharp crack of your palm across Jaemin’s cheek echoed through the room, his head whipped sideways. Mina stumbled back with a gasp as the crowd around you froze, then erupted in murmurs and the bright flare of phone screens.
“What the fuck?” Jaemin snarled, clutching his reddening face, eyes blazing the instant recognition hit, “w—wait, Y/N?”
Mina’s face drained of color, “we—we didn’t think you would show up tonight—”
You desperately wanted to laugh, but you maintained your character, cause how were they dumb enough to think that you wouldn’t find out, especially when Heeseung did too.
“Clearly,” you said, getting ready to lie beautifully, “Heeseung told me everything. How long have you two been fucking behind our backs?”
Whispers exploded outward. Jaemin fumbled for excuses, mouth opening uselessly.
“I didn’t expect this from you Mina,” you mumbled, biting the inside of your cheek as tears started forming in her eyes.
“No—listen to me, we didn’t—”
“Whatever,” you continued, a crystalline laugh escaping you, “be happy with each other, I’ll find someone better.”
You turned away from their frozen faces, and Heeseung stood right there, looking completely wrecked. Your eyes met his, like really met them. For a second everything else including the stares, the phones, the bass—faded into background noise.
He looked at you like you were the only person left in the room, and maybe to him, you were.
You stepped in close, sliding your hands up his chest. His heart was pounding under your palms, doe eyes full of trust and anticipation for what was to come. Heeseung’s breath caught, but he didn’t move away. His hands found your waist almost on instinct, fingers spreading wide and warm through your clothes, before pressing in to hold on tighter.
His gaze dropped to your mouth before flicking back up, nodding slightly as he understood the question you asked him earlier.
Which is why you tilted your head and kissed him.
You slotted your lips against his rather softly, just to test him at first. His mouth was warm, faintly tasting of smoke and the drink he’d had earlier. He froze for half a second, stunned at the easiness of it all, then let out this quiet, broken sound against your lips and kissed you back.
The kiss turned deeper fast, hungrier. Your tongue brushed his and he groaned low in his throat, the vibration rolling straight through you. You slid one hand into his hair, tugging lightly at the strands, while the other stayed fisted in his jacket, pulling him closer. Heeseung’s grip on your waist tightened almost painfully so, one arm wrapping further around your back to press you flush against him. His chest rose and fell hard against yours. You could feel every shaky breath, the way his fingers trembled just slightly where they dug into your sides.
It was messy, a little desperate. Tongues sliding, breaths mixing hot and uneven, the faint wet sound of it somehow louder than the music behind. He kissed like he was pouring every bit of hurt and anger and sudden want into you as you took it all, giving the same right back.
When you finally pulled back just enough to breathe, Heeseung was completely gone. Lips swollen and shiny, chest heaving like he couldn’t catch his breath, eyes dark and hazy like his brain had short-circuited. A wrecked little sound slipped out of him, half-gasp, half-groan—as he stared at you, dazed and breathing hard.
Your smile embodied satisfaction as you leaned in again and pressed one slow, teasing peck to his parted lips, letting it linger just enough to make his breath hitch all over again.
Jaemin and Mina were staring like they’d seen a ghost with their jaws dropped, faces pale, eyes wide with pure disbelief. The whole party had gone dead quiet around you, everyone watching, phones still pointed your way like this was the best drama they’d seen all year (it probably was).
You laced your fingers with Heeseung’s, gave his hand a light squeeze, and tugged him toward the door.
“Let’s get out of here,” you murmured close to his ear, voice low and a little playful against his skin.
Heeseung didn’t argue, just followed, still breathing hard, fingers gripping yours tight as the door swung shut behind you.
The cool night air hit your heated skin, and for the first time tonight, everything felt wide open again.
A rather loud screech right next to your left ear woke you up, and you wondered if the world had somehow been corrupted by zombies because there’s no other explanation for such sounds, but your friend made it possible somehow.
You jolted, heart kicking once before your brain caught up. Sunoo was practically jumping beside your bed, phone in his hand, “one time—one single time I decide to stay in and catch up on sleep and you create a fucking scene? Gosh, babe.”
Winter shoved the door the rest of the way open with her shoulder, hoodie sleeves pushed up to her elbows, hair still a wild mess from her deep sleep. She planted herself at the foot of your bed, arms crossed, eyes narrowing at you, “fuck, Y/N,” she said before her tone got softer, “are you okay? I fucking knew that girl was a snake from the first time she came over. And your boyfriend? I always hated him, al-fucking-ways.”
You were still blinking, eyes half open and not willing to adjust to the brightness. Right then, a chuckle escaped your lips at the memory of last night—and you tried to remember the last time you felt so satisfied (maybe never?).
Sunoo dropped onto the edge of your mattress without waiting, “I always said we are your besties. The kind who’d help you hide a body, no questions asked. Ride or die, baby.”
You sat up straight, blanket pooling around your waist, and opened your arms because of course they were right, “come here, idiots.”
They didn’t hesitate, Winter climbing on first, wrapping her arms around you like she could shield you from the whole damn world. Sunoo piled on top a second later, all limbs and very dramatic sighs, squishing the three of you into a tangled heap of familiar warmth.
“Yeah,” you murmured into Sunoo’s shoulder, voice muffled, “you two are stuck with me.”
Winter huffed a soft laugh against your neck, “good, because we’re not letting you deal with that snake ex-bestie and cheating ex-boyfriend shit alone. We’re burning that chapter together.”
Sunoo’s voice came out muffled too, “and—we’re keeping the video forever, that kiss looked cozy girl, what else did you do—”
You let yourself sink into the warmth for a long moment, the bone-deep numbness from yesterday easing just enough to let something real and grateful slip through. The sting of Mina’s betrayal was still there, but it felt distant now—almost coherent in its simplicity.
People drift apart, friendships end. You’d always known that. What intrigued you more was how easily these two could make the weight feel lighter, their amiable chaos wrapping around you like a promise that some things indeed were here to stay.
Meanwhile, Heeseung was suffering.
Jay had shoved his phone into Heeseung’s face, close enough for him to make out, uh, absolutely nothing. It seemed like a blurry mess of lights until Jay yanked it back to show Heeseung a pixel version of you grabbing his jacket and pulling him into what appeared to be a passionate kiss.
The angle caught the exact moment his hands found your waist, the way his shoulders had tensed then eased up all at once. Heeseung’s ears burned red so fast it felt like someone had lit a match under his skin.
“Bro,” Jay said, grinning, “the video is everywhere, especially on the uni insta page for students. Someone made it into a trend—it’s actually insane.”
Before Heeseung could even form a coherent thought, the bedroom door slammed open hard enough to rattle the frame, scaring both the boys.
Jake came barreling in, hair still sticking up from sleep, eyes wild, “you bitch—you kissed Y/N? She’s mine—I called dibs on her months ago!”
Heeseung groaned, dragging both hands down his face, “she’s not an object, Jake.”
“Oh fuck you—you know I like her,” Jake shot back, dropping on his knees.
Sunghoon strolled in next, casual as ever, one shoulder propped against the wall. He let out a low whistle and Heeseung wondered what the fuck is wrong with his friends, “so you’re what? Dating now? That was one hell of a plot twist.”
Jay sniggered, not even trying to hide it, “nah dude, you think he can handle someone like Y/N?”
Jake tried to butt in again, “I can—” but the rest of them talked right over him like usual.
Heeseung sat up slowly, the full reminder of the last night coming right back to him. The slap echoing through the room, the way you’d looked at him right before you kissed him, eyes bright with that reckless spark. The way he’d kissed you back like he enjoyed it. He swallowed hard, throat tight.
“Did I cheat on Mina?” He asked quietly.
The room went still for half a second, all three of them looked at him like he’d grown a second head. Jay let out a disbelieving laugh, “she cheated on you while you were still together.”
“Yeah but I kissed someone else literally a few minutes later—”
“Doesn’t matter,” Sunghoon cut in, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Heeseung stared at the blanket pooled over his lap, replaying the kiss again—the heat of your mouth, the way your fingers had twisted in his hair, that soft, teasing peck you pressed to his lips after. It had been the best kiss he’d ever had. The whole situation felt far too complicated for the simple labels his friends were throwing arounf, and yet he couldn’t stop the memory from looping behind his eyes.
Jay sighed, softer this time, leaning back on his elbows, “did it feel good?”
They all looked at him. Heeseung didn’t answer right away, he just swallowed again, the memory burning behind his eyes like it refused to fade.
You on the other hand were absolutely not functioning when Sunoo had a trillion questions lined up for you—all of which consisted of Heeseung. You three had just managed to make coffees when the loud knock interrupted you. A sigh was all you could manage as you opened the door to find your pathetic excuse of an ex standing there with—roses? Wow, he didn’t even have the decency to remember that you were allergic.
He spoke up before you could, “I know i deserved that slap.”
Well, obviously.
“I messed up—I swear I don’t want her.” He was looking at you with that pout he mustered whenever you both had disagreements.
You bit down your laugh, “yeah? So?”
“Take me back, baby, please?”
Right then someone flew past the door, and your mouth hung open as Sunoo straight up landed a kick on Jaemin’s thigh, resulting in him falling down with pain. Now, you laughed freely as Sunoo bent down to warn him, “stay away from her, okay?”
Jaemin turned to look at you, eyes wide, “what—”
“You heard him, we’re over, Jaemin,” you shrugged, wrapping your arm around Sunoo as you both walked inside, Sunoo glaring at man till the door closed shut.
Jaemin stayed on the ground for a few more seconds, roses scattered around him, a thorn making him bleed just enough for him to roll his eyes.
That went well.
The afternoon sun filtered softly through the leaves of the uni garden, casting dappled shadows across the wooden bench where you sat. It had been three days since the party, and the campus still hadn’t let either of you forget it. Random students kept approaching you in the hallways, the library, even the coffee line—some offering awkward condolences, others straight-up calling the slap and the kiss badass with wide-eyed admiration.
You sipped your mango matcha slowly, the garden was quiet now, just the distant hum of students walking between buildings and the soft rustle of leaves overhead. You felt normal, jolly even, like it hadn’t affected you, but even you couldn’t deny how good of a kiss it had been.
Too lost in the pdf in your iPad, you didn’t notice Heeseung approaching until his shadow fell across your lap. He stopped a few feet away, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, hair still slightly messy and he somehow made it look good.
“Hey,” he said, voice polite as it had always been, “can we talk?”
You looked up, lips curving into an amiable smile, “sure, c’mere sit,” you patted the empty space beside you on the bench and held out your mango matcha toward him, “want some? It’s good.”
Heeseung only cocked his brow, “same straw?”
You blinked innocently, “you’re saying that as if we didn’t make out in front of the entire party three days ago.”
He stared at you for a moment, intrigued cause of your carefree answer, before he reached out and took the cup anyway. He drank without hesitation, the straw brushing his lips where yours had been moments ago, and when he lowered it, the corner of his mouth twitched.
You chuckled, watching the way his shoulders loosened just a fraction, “so—talk, what’s on your mind, Heeseung?”
He handed the cup back, fingers brushing yours for a second longer than necessary, “I’ve been thinking about that night. A lot.” His voice was quiet, almost hesitant, but his eyes stayed on yours, “the kiss, the way you just handled everything. I keep replaying it and I can’t make it make sense.”
You tilted your head, taking another slow sip before answering, “what’s there to make sense of? They cheated, we both saw it. I decided not to let it ruin my night and you were there. The kiss happened—simple.”
He let out a short, disbelieving breath, running a hand through his hair, “It’s not simple for me. Mina was my girlfriend, Jaemin was my best friend since freshman year. And so much happened in like—an hour,” he paused, eyes searching your face, “did it really not mess with you at all?”
You shrugged, “It stung a little actually. Losing Mina as a friend after all those years felt kinda—odd? But drowning in it? Not really my thing.” Your lips curved again, “i’ve never been the type to hand my whole heart over and expect it to stay put.”
Heeseung watched you for a long moment, “you make it sound so coherent,” he muttered, almost to himself, “like it’s all just—logical. Meanwhile I’ve been walking around campus getting stopped by random people asking if we’re together now. It’s been three days and I still feel like my head’s spinning.”
You laughed lightly, “same here, a guy offered to buy me coffee because I deserved better, It’s weirdly entertaining.”
Heeseung’s mouth twitched into a half-smile, the first real one you’d seen from him today, “yeah, even my friend Jake was sort of, how do I even put it? But yeah, he wasn’t thrilled, hes got some crush on you.”
Your eyes sparkled, “wait, isn’t he the cute one with an accent? I like him.”
He shook his head at how you would probably encourage Jake, the thought was rather unsettling, then looked at you again, more serious, “but, y’know—the kiss, that part wasn’t just for show.”
That made you pause for a moment, and you held his gaze, intrigued by the way he was looking at you—like he was trying to figure out how someone could be so calm in the middle of the wreckage.
“So what are you saying?” You asked, voice soft but direct, “you regret it?”
“No,” he answered almost immediately, “I don’t regret it, that’s the problem. It felt good and I keep wondering what the hell that means when everything else is such a mess.”
You leaned back against the bench, letting the sun warm your face for a second, “it doesn’t have to mean anything big, I mean—we both got screwed over.” You watched how pretty he looked under the sunlight, lips slightly red cause he’d been biting them, “maybe we don’t overthink it. Maybe we just—just see where it goes.”
Heeseung took the cup again, fingers brushing yours once more, and this time he didn’t pull away right away, “you’re really okay with that?”
You smiled, “I’m okay with a lot of things, Heeseung. Especially if they feel good.”
Neither of you said anything more for a moment. The conversation didn’t need to be solved today, for now, sitting here with him, sharing the same straw and the same tension, felt like enough.
Heeseung has always been a man of few words, but even those little words seemed to disappear when you were around. And the worst part? You weren’t even aware of it.
You weren’t the one to intrude on anyone’s personal space, and that included Heeseung, much to his relief (or dismay?), he was just—confused.
A week had slipped by since the garden talk, and the quiet tension between you two had only grown heavier. He’d spent the days avoiding Mina’s messages, the knot in his chest tightening every time her name appeared. But you—you were everywhere. In literature class you sat three rows ahead, never together, but he stared. He couldn’t stop noticing the way the light caught the curve of your neck when you leaned over your notes, the soft way your fingers tapped the edge of your pen, the small, absent smile that played on your lips when something in the lecture amused you. Every stolen glance left him more tangled than the last.
Tonight the restlessness had won. He pulled on a hoodie and walked to the 24-hour convenience store near the dorms, craving something mindless like his ride or die—ramen to quiet the noise in his head.
The annoyingly white lights buzzed overhead as he stepped inside, grabbing a basket and turning down the snack aisle, mind still half-lost in yesterday’s class when you’d stretched and your shirt had ridden up just enough to—
He stopped just then, cause you were right there,
standing in the middle of the aisle in soft pink pajama shorts that barely skimmed the tops of your thighs and a matching oversized hoodie that had slipped off one shoulder, you looked unfairly soft and warm, like you’d just rolled out of bed. Your hair was a little messy, and you were reaching up for a pack of strawberry gummies, the hem of the shorts riding higher with the movement.
Heeseung’s mouth went dry, and he wanted to slap himself for acting like a fucking creep.
You turned at the sound of his footsteps, eyes meeting his across the narrow aisle. A slow smile curved your lips, the same one that had been haunting him for days.
“Hey,” you waved at him, like running into each other at midnight in pajamas was the most normal thing in the world, “couldn’t sleep either?”
Heeseung swallowed, stepping closer despite the way his pulse kicked up. The faint scent of your shampoo clinging to your hair, “needed ramen, the boys emptied the fridge I swear,” he groaned, rubbing the back of his neck.
You nodded in understanding, “same lowkey—was staring at the ceiling but then decided to get out.” You tilted your head, looking at him a little closer, eyes tracing the tired lines on his face, “you look like you’ve got a lot going on up there. Want to talk about it while we walk back?”
Heeseung hesitated for half a second, then nodded, “yeah, sounds good.”
You paid for your stuff together, the cashier barely glancing up, and stepped back out into the cool night air. The walk was easy at first, with absolutely no words being exchanged, your shoulders brushed every few steps, Heeseung kept his hands in his pockets, but he could feel the warmth of you next to him, the soft brush of your hoodie sleeve against his every time you shifted.
“Been a week,” he said after a few minutes, “Mina keeps texting, and of course I haven’t answered. It feels weird ignoring her, but answering would feel worse.”
You hummed, glancing at him sideways, “I get that. Sometimes the easiest thing is just to let it sit there until it stops stinging, y’know?” Your arm bumped his again as you walked, and you didn’t pull away, “you holding up okay with all of it?”
He just nodded, granting you a smile which made the corner of your lips lift up too, and he asked you the same, to which you laughed as if nothing had even happened.
It was so nice just walking beside you, even in silence, at this cursed hour of midnight, though Heeseung would argue and say that he felt more awake now than he did the whole day.
The dorm buildings came into view too soon, but then Heeseung saw something that made his steps falter on the pavement, body going rigid right beside you. It made you follow his line of sight, and of course—Mina was there, walking straight towards his building, head down and mind completely focused on her phone. She hadn’t noticed you yet, but it was clear that she was going to approach Heeseung.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, panic flashing across his features in a way you could feel it reach you too.
Before you could provide him with two words of comfort, his hand slid around your waist, fingers spreading wide and warm through the thin fabric of your hoodie. He pulled you in close, so close that your side pressed flush against his, the heat of his body juxtaposing the chill of the air. His palm was steady but his fingers trembled a little against your hip as you caught the faint scent of his cologne, it was clean and woody, just how you liked it.
“Play along, please?” He whispered urgently against your ear, voice rougher now.
You only chuckled, leaning into him as if you’d done it before, slipping your arm around his back, fingers resting lightly against the small of his back. Your head tilted up towards him, a soft smile curving up as you looked at him. Heeseung was flushed cause, damn were you good at acting.
“Got it,” you murmured back.
Mina looked up at the exact moment, eyes widened at the sight, a gasp leaving her lips as she watched Heeseung’s hand slide lower on your back as you reached his dorm door.
You didn’t even realize you were biting your bottom lip until Heeseung’s gaze dropped straight to it, his breath hitched, thumb pausing on your cheek as his other hand came up to cup your face, warm palms cradling your jaw like he was afraid you might pull away.
“Can I?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper, eyes searching yours.
You didn’t answer, just leaned in, closing the small gap between you, and pulled him into the kiss.
Your lips met his softly at first and Heeseung made a quiet sound against your mouth, his hands cupping your face fully now, thumb stroking the apple of your cheek as he kissed you back. The taste of him was faint, a hint of the cherry juice he must have had earlier. Your own hands slid up his chest, fisting lightly in his hoodie as you tilted your head to kiss him a little deeper.
When you finally pulled back, Heeseung’s eyes were dark and a little dazed, lips parted and cheeks flushed. His thumbs were still stroking your cheeks, reluctant to let go.
Mina stood frozen a few feet away, face pale, cause she swore to herself it was an act, but this? It didn’t seem like one.
Heeseung didn’t look at her, just tightening his grip on your waist and guided you through the door, pulling you inside with him. The warmth of his palm stayed glued to the small of your back the whole way, steady now, like he needed the contact to stay grounded.
Inside the apartment, Jake was sprawled on the couch in the living room, a half-eaten pizza box open on the coffee table, some mindless show playing low on the TV. He froze mid-bite when he saw you, eyes going wide.
You smiled, bright and completely at ease, like showing up at this hour with Heeseung’s arm still around you was the most normal thing in the world, “oh—hey. Jake, right?”
“Y/N? Uh yes—hi, you’re here?” Jake stuttered, making Hee roll his eyes.
You just walked over to him, dropping onto the couch beside him acting all normal though your heartbeat said otherwise, “yeah! Mind if I steal a bite?”
Jake blinked, then grinned like an idiot and lifted the slice he was holding right to your mouth, “here, go for it.”
You leaned in and took a bite straight from his hand, cheese stretching between your fingers as you chewed, “mhm, this is actually good, thanks.”
Jake’s face lit up even more, “right? You can have the whole slice if you want.”
Heeseung stood there watching the whole thing, jaw tight. He lasted about five seconds before he groaned low in his throat, “alright, that’s enough.” He crossed the room in two quick strides, caught your wrist gently but firmly, and tugged you up from the couch, “c’mon.”
You let him pull you up, giving Jake a little wave over your shoulder, “night, Jakey. Thanks for the pizza.”
Jake just waved back, still grinning, “anytime!”
The second Heeseung’s door clicked shut behind you, silence filled the room—it was dim, lit only by the desk lamp, the air suddenly too warm and too small. Heeseung’s back pressed against the door, eyes dark and fixed on you before he walked over and plopped on his bed.
You clicked your tongue, tilting your head at him, “now she’s gonna think we’re dating.”
Heeseung rubbed a hand over his face, looking genuinely sorry, “yeah—I know. I’m so sorry—I just panicked and pulled you into this whole thing. You didn’t have to go along with it.”
You shrugged, stepping closer until you were right in front of him. Then, without warning, you turned and sat right down on his lap, straddling his thighs like it was the most natural thing in the world. Heeseung’s breath caught, hands instinctively landing on your hips to steady you, eyes wide with surprise.
“I did kiss you first at the party,” you said, “so it’s kinda my fault too.”
Heeseung’s fingers flexed on your hips, holding you there. He gulped, throat bobbing visibly as he looked up at you, “so, now what?” he asked, voice rough.
You shrugged again, still sitting comfortably on his lap, fingers playing with the collar of his hoodie, “it’s your call, Hee.”
You kept talking as Heeseung pondered deeply about his choices. He didn’t register you saying something about how Jake’s face was priceless because Heeseung wasn’t listening anymore. His eyes had dropped to the exposed line of your clavicle where your hoodie had slipped down, tracing the smooth skin there, then moving up to your lips—still a little shiny from the greasy pizza, slightly parted as you spoke. The way you were sitting on him, the soft weight of you on his thighs—it was too stimulating for him.
He didn’t say anything, just leaned in and kissed you hard, mouth practically crashing into yours, one hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck, the other staying firm on your hip to keep you right where you were. There was nothing hesitant about it this time—it was hungry, deep. His tongue brushed yours, and he groaned quietly into the kiss, the sound vibrating against your lips. You could feel the way his fingers tightened in your hair, the way his chest rose and fell fast against yours, the way his body reacted instantly to having you on his lap like this.
You kissed him back just as hard, hands sliding up his chest to fist in his hoodie. A soft moan slipped out of you when he sucked on your bottom lip, and Heeseung made this low, wrecked sound in response, hips shifting under you.
“Fuck,” he breathed against your mouth, barely pulling back, “this okay? Tell me if you want to stop.”
You shook your head, lips brushing his as you answered, voice already breathy, “don’t stop—keep going.”
He groaned and kissed you harder, tongue sliding against yours as one hand slid under your hoodie, palm warm on your bare back. You rocked your hips down against him and he moaned into your mouth, the sound raw.
You pulled back just enough to speak, forehead resting against his, “we doing this then?” You breathed against his lips, “no strings, just whenever we want or need?”
Heeseung swore you could read minds, “yeah,” he sighed in pleasure, “I want that—you and me, no strings.”
You smiled against his lips and kissed him again, deeper, grinding down slowly, “good fucking boy.”
He groaned louder, the sound vibrating through you as his fingers dug into your thighs, “shit—I’ve been so fucking pent up,” he muttered between kisses, hips rolling up to meet yours, “all week because of you.”
You moaned softly, rocking against him again with a chuckle, “that’s adorable, keep going, yeah? Don’t stop.”
He flipped you suddenly, laying you on your back and settling between your thighs. The new position made you both moan—the weight of him pressing you into the mattress, lips chasing yours mindlessly as his tongue slid against yours, hand tracing higher under your hoodie, hips grinding down slowly.
“God, you feel good,” he muttered, pulling you down for another kiss.
You nodded, moaning softly into his mouth, “so do you.”
The room filled with the sounds of lips, heavy breathing, and quiet moans as you kept moving together, hands roaming, bodies pressing closer. The conversation faded into breathy words and soft sounds between kisses, and honestly, both of you didn’t care about much anymore. You both were just two horny adults functioning on a verbal agreement with no rules whatsoever.
Outside in the living room, Jake had just taken another bite of pizza when the first loud moan drifted through the door. His eyes widened with betrayal—the slice slipping from his fingers and landed cheese-side down on the floor with a pathetic splat.
He stared at the closed door for a long second, mouth still full.
“Well—shit.”
You didn’t know that the consequences of spending one night with Heeseung could be so dire, granted you didn’t go beyond some innocent humping which bestowed you with the absolute pleasure of seeing Heeseung desperate and flushed underneath you.
The question bugged you—why would Mina even wish to leave such a beautiful man who’s very willing to provide pleasure?
You were still turning that over in your head as you walked down the hallway, iPad tucked under your arm, one AirPod in, but your mind was elsewhere—which was odd considering you never were the kind to just stand and ponder about random things, during the day time at least. The last time it happened was when you were a kid and Zayn had left One direction.
Regardless, you chuckled at the idea of Heeseung being the one to garner your attention, since you never saw him in that light before—something about friends’ partners being inanimate to you. Either way, you started walking back towards your dorm since the lectures were over, only to be stopped by Mina blocking your path with a scowl on her face.
You raised an eyebrow, “hey?”
“We need to talk,” she huffed, looking rather tired, maybe with the way people stopped the second they sensed any drama, and why wouldn’t they? You both were the centre of it given the circumstances.
“Do we really?” You gave her a lazy look, knowing well it bothered her.
Her jaw clenched. “You kissed Heeseung. In front of everyone. While he was still with me.”
A couple more heads turned. You could feel eyes on you now, phones probably already sliding out of pockets.
You let out a short breath, almost a laugh, “while he was still with you? That’s rich. Last time I checked, you were the one fucking my boyfriend in his dorm with the door wide open. I walked in on you two, actually. So maybe don’t lecture me about cheating.”
Mina’s cheeks flushed, “that’s not the same—”
“It kind of is,” you cut in, keeping your voice even, “Heeseung didn’t deserve to find out like that, neither of us did, but at least I didn’t sneak around for months like a coward. And yeah, I kissed him—I’d do it again. He’s too good for the way you two treated him.”
Mina’s eyes flashed with anger, “you’re no better than me. You basically cheated too—”
“Bro, are you actually serious right now?”
A tall guy with messy black hair and a skateboard tucked under his arm stepped out from the edge of the crowd. You’d seen him around in a couple electives. He looked Mina up and down, completely unimpressed, having seen the scene at the party in flesh too.
“Everyone’s seen the video,” he said, loud enough that the people nearby nodded, “I literally saw you and Jaemin at the party. You’re the one who cheated, leave her alone.”
A girl a few feet away nodded like she agreed. Mina glanced around at all the stares, lips pressed tight, then spun on her heel and shoved through the crowd, practically running toward the exit.
You let out a real laugh this time, almost like you couldn’t believe this was real, that your own friend would turn against you in such a manner. Riki turned to you, one corner of his mouth lifting.
“Damn,” he said, “that was satisfying.”
“Yeah,” you agreed, still chuckling as you started walking again, “thanks for stepping in. You really didn’t have to.”
He shrugged, falling into step beside you, “she’s been trying to change the perception, i saw her lying to my friend earlier. Someone had to say it. I’m Riki by the way, or Ni-ki, whatever.”
“Y/N,” you said, bumping his shoulder lightly, “seriously, I owe you a coffee for that.”
“Bet,” he smirked, already pulling his phone out, “just text me whenever. I’m free most afternoons.”
Ten feet away, half-hidden behind a cluster of students, Heeseung had stopped dead in the middle of the hallway. Jay almost walked straight into his back, headphones on so conveniently, he missed the whole commotion.
“You good?” He asked, lifting one side of his headphones, “Heeseung?” He asked yet again when he didn’t get a reply.
How would he? When Heeseung was deep in thoughts, the tips of his ears red. Everyone knew he was the guy who kept to himself, not the kind to insert himself into a fight—eventually leading to him never getting into a situation where he’d have to defend himself.
But you did it so naturally with not a single hint of him witnessing the scene. It was heartwarming to say the least, the way you defended him so casually but your tone clearly portraying the care you harboured for him, even if it was little (as per Heeseung and his never ending self doubt).
Before Jay could wave a hand in front of his face, Jake came barreling around the corner like he was late for everything in life, backpack slipping off one shoulder. Without missing a beat he lunged forward, locking an arm around Heeseung’s neck and yanking him down into a tight headlock.
“Spill it right now—the hell did you do with Y/N last night, huh? I’m not letting go till you talk, dude, I swear to god—”
Much to his dismay, Heeseung pushed him off with ease, “the fuck? Get off,” he said, staring at Jake who looked like he hadn’t slept at all.
Jay was completely lost, headphones now resting on his neck, “what am I missing here exactly? What even happened?”
Heeseung groaned, “nothing happened—”
“Nah, he took Y/N to his room and then I heard moans. Moans—do you fucking get it? He’s actually fucking her.” Jake ranted, eyes blown wide.
Jay’s eyebrows shot up, “wait, what? For real?”
Heeseung shoved Jake off properly this time, cheeks burning as he fixed his hoodie, “It’s not—fuck, can you not yell that in the middle of the hallway?”
Jake threw his hands up, looking genuinely offended, “I’m sorry, I was trying to eat pizza and process the fact that my dream girl was getting railed by my roommate. You could’ve at least given me a heads-up, man.”
Jay let out a low whistle, finally catching on. He crossed his arms, which had gotten muscular somehow, “so, you and Y/N? Like, actually?”
Heeseung rubbed a hand over his face, ears still red, “we have an arrangement of sorts. No strings attached, that’s it.”
Jake stared at him like he’d been shot in the chest, “no strings? She deserves love, she deserves aftercare and pampering and—”
Jay was never good at hiding his amusement, especially if it consisted of embarrassing one of his friends, “you sure you can actually do the no-strings thing? You’re the guy who gets attached after one good conversation. Remember that girl from school who just smiled at you in the library and you were googling how to ask someone on a date at two a.m.?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Heeseung muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched with his mind drifting back to you.
Jake however, wasn’t done. He threw his hands up again, “I’m serious, I even fucking dropped the pizza slice she ate from.”
Jay snorted, “you’re never gonna let that go noq, are you?”
“Never,” Jake said, dead serious, “that could’ve been our indirect kiss.”
Heeseung shook his head, finally starting to walk again so they wouldn’t be late for class, “It’s fine. We’re both adults, it’ll be okay.”
Jay fell into step beside him, clapping him on the back a little too hard, “yeah, okay. Keep telling yourself that, I give it ten days before you’re buying her flowers and writing her name in your notes with hearts around it.”
“Two weeks,” Jake corrected, still sulking, “max.”
Heeseung didn’t bother arguing. He just shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and kept walking, the stupid little smile refusing to leave his face completely.
You, meanwhile, had no idea any of that chaos had just exploded behind you. You groaned, sitting down on the couch, despising the silence that greeted you. Winter had gone to her family home for her cousin’s wedding, and Sunoo had conveniently decided to spend the night over at Hoon’s to torture him with some horror movie.
And you were here, unsure of what to do tonight, and the newfound interest you’d found within your ex’s best friend.
Whatever this was, it was definitely going to be interesting.
Turns out, the night wasn’t about to be boring at all. You had just gotten under the warmth of your duvet as your phone lit up, a text brightening your lock screen. Evidently, you seemed to be lurking in Heeseung’s mind as much as he had started persisting in yours.
Heeseung: you up?
You: that’s such a fuckboy question
Heeseung: oh shit i didnt mean it that way
You: hm? what’s it then
Heeseung: js felt like texting
You clicked your tongue, rolling to your side, phone propped up against your fluffy pink pillow.
You: mhm sure
You: what are you doing rn then
The typing bubble popped up, disappeared, then popped up again—a proper reminder of how Heeseung’s personality shone through even through his texting patterns.
Heeseung: just lying in bed
Heeseung: can’t sleep for some reason
A second later your phone vibrated with a picture, a selfie to be precise. It was rather cinematic how Heeseung appeared to look even prettier with dim lights, messy dark hair falling into his eyes, no shirt, just the chain he always wore catching the light. He looked way too good for someone who was just lying in bed, lips slightly parted and swollen like he’d been biting them. The angle showed the sharp line of his collarbone and that adam’s apple, a few marks evident on his skin, courtesy of you.
You stared for a second longer than you meant to, completely zoned in how beautiful a few marks made him look.
You: oh wow
You: don’t you look dashing at one in the morning
Heeseung only let out a breathy laugh, clearly preening under your praise, as if he hadn’t clicked eight pictures just so he could send you the most perfect one, in his standards at least.
Heeseung: your turn
The corner of your lip twitched up as you sat a little, tugged the neckline of your oversized tee down just enough so the soft swell of your tits spilled over the fabric, nipples barely hidden. You angled the camera, snapped it, and hit send without overthinking, knowing that the reply would come within seconds, and so it did.
Heeseung: fuck
Heeseung: you’re actually evil
You laughed under your breath and sent another one right after, taking off your tee fully, letting him know how hard your nipples had gotten already.
You: now you. don’t be shy baby
Heeseung sent back a shot of his hand shoved down his sweats, gripping himself. The outline was obvious, the tip of his cock peeking out above the waistband, flushed and already leaking. Then another one—his hand mid-stroke, thumb smearing the precum over the head. A low, rather shaky breath left his lips in the process, and he swore he hadn’t ever been the type to be so—so evidently horny before.
You’d say you bring out the worst in people, but Heeseung would contradict it with a goofy smile saying how it’s the absolute best. With that thought, he hit sent.
Heeseung: this is what you do to me
Your mouth went dry, the picture being enough for you to spread your legs under the duvet, only to push the duvet away entirely before angling your phone properly to ensure the slick on your cunt would be visible in the picture.
You: see what you’re missing?
Heeseung: jesus christ i’m actually throbbing
You bit down on your bottom lip, absolutely letting the pleasure of having Heeseung in control take over. So, instead of texting back, you tapped the voice message button and held it down.
Your voice came through low and teasing, a little breathy already.
“Aw, poor baby, you’re throbbing just from a picture? C’mon, lemme hear how good it feels, hm?”
You sent it without thinking twice, and he was quick to listen, his dick twitching just as he heard your voice. A few seconds later his voice message came back—husky, a little embarrassed, but clearly turned on.
“Fuck—you’re so mean,” he whispered, which almost came out as a whine, “I’m so hard it hurts. I’m stroking it slow at first, like this—” You could hear the faint, wet sound of his hand moving, “but I keep thinking about how wet you looked in that last pic. Want my mouth on you so bad right now.”
You caressed your clit gently, letting your head fall back at his not so shy admissions. It was hot how he didn’t shy away from speaking his mind.
“Hmm, good boy—keep stroking just like that. Faster now, I want to hear how desperate you sound for me. Tell me exactly what you’d do if you were here.”
His next voice message was even shakier, breathing heavier.
“I’d pull you on top of me, let you grind on my cock while you tell me how you want it. Fuck—I’d let you use me however you want. I’d suck on your tits while you ride me, make you moan my name louder, please take my name, please?”
You let out a soft, breathy moan right into your reply.
“Yeah? You like when I boss you around, Heeseung? Touch yourself exactly how I would. Tighten your grip—I know you’re close already, aren’t you?”
Heeseung’s voice cracked in the next voice note, barely above a whisper.
“Shit—yeah, I’m so close, your voice is driving me insane. Ah, fuck, wanna bury my face between your thighs right now—”
You were breathing harder too, fingers moving faster. You sent one last voice message, letting your voice be sultry.
“Then cum for me, Hee. Let me hear it. I want you moaning my name when you do.”
That did it for him, he could barely even keep the phone in his hand, shivering at the hyper awareness of it all, of you.
Somehow, you knew exactly the predicament he was undergoing, and you decided to spare the poor man, hitting the call button to free his hands. He picked up after a single ring.
“Fuck—you’re actually perfect,” he panted, the wet sound of his hand still audible. “I’ve never been this gone from just voice messages before.”
You laughed softly, sliding two fingers inside yourself with a quiet moan, “then don’t stop. Stroke it faster for me, yeah? Be good, I want to hear every sound you make while you think about fucking me.”
Heeseung groaned, clearly trying (and failing) to stay quiet because of his friends, who were in the living room. “Feels so good but it’s not enough—I keep imagining you riding me, telling me to go harder, shit,—”
“You’re doing so well,” you praised, clenching around your fingers as he moans out your name, “imagine it’s my pussy instead of your hand. I’m so fucking wet for you right now. You’d slide in so easy, wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah—fuck, I would,” he whimpered, “I’d let you use me however you want. I’d let you choke me while you ride me, I don’t even care anymore—”
You moaned louder, fingers curling just right, “yeah, yeah, just keep talking like that and I’m gonna cum, be good c’mon, you’ll cum with me, yeah?”
Heeseung’s breathing turned ragged, desperate little sounds slipping out, “i’m so close—gonna—fuck, Y/N—”
You came first, moaning his name all soft and filthy into the phone. He followed right after with a choked groan, trying to muffle it against his pillow but failing miserably, and god knows what would happen if Sunoo (who was there all thanks to Sunghoon) was to witness this.
For a long moment the only thing between you was heavy breathing.
Then Heeseung let out a soft, wrecked little laugh, making you grin lazily, “you did so well, Hee.”
He didn’t expect that, making him whine again, and you swore you could run to see him all flushed and blushing, “you’re so perfect.”
Your breath hitched at his whispered words, gulping as you stayed silent, letting your breathing even out. He was quiet for a beat too, but his mind wasn’t stopping at that.
“Hey, uh I saw what you did earlier, in the hallway, with Mina.”
You blinked, surprised, “wait, you were there?”
“Yeah. I was a little further back, but i heard everything.” His voice dropped, almost like he was in awe, “the way you shut her down for me—defended me like that without even thinking. It was really fucking hot. Couldn’t stop thinking about it all night, that’s why I texted you.”
You let out a low chuckle at how unpredictable he was, “so that’s the real reason you were sending me nudes and moaning my name like a desperate little slut at one a.m., huh?”
If praises led Heeseung to moan, the degradation caused him to cry—not in a bad way of course. It was new for him too, as if he was learning about himself through you. And the voice you heard was beautiful, a broken cry of his desperation.
“I see you’re into degradation,” you pointed out.
“Fucking hell, even I didn’t know,” he breathed out, eyes closing.
You only smirked, getting closer to the phone now.
“Wanna test how it plays out?”
“Why the fuck did Hoon just tell me you’re fucking Heeseung?”
It was rather hard to distinguish his tone when he sounded both impressed and mad. Turns out, he was mad since he didn’t hear it from you first, then, he was impressed with how fast you moved on. Regardless, he didn’t let you live that down, trying to force the group together, only to see Heeseung squirming and you being absolutely normal.
You were sitting cross-legged on your bed, still in the oversized hoodie you’d thrown on after your morning shower, when Sunoo burst through the door, Winter followed, sipping an iced latte and looking far too amused for someone who was supposed to be your emotional support. And so another interrogation session took place, which you survived (somehow).
Other than that, things had been normal. A few changes did occur such as you all having lunch together, even Winter invited her girlfriend, making the group seem livelier than ever. Jake made it his mission to sit next to you each time, and Heeseung—well, he stared at you more than he ate.
That pattern followed you straight into your English lecture later that afternoon. You slipped into your usual seat in the middle row, barely five minutes late, when Riki dropped into the chair right beside you, and you looked up at him, surprised.
Heeseung walked in later, eyes on how you greeted the guy easily, and with that, he almost walked into someone. He could only manage to groan, because why wouldn’t you talk to him? To be fair, you did talk to him, like a friend, but never more, no initiation of any sort. Heeseung was the one who texted first, and he didn’t mind, but with how soft hearted he was, he probably wouldn’t mind you texting first either.
That being said, Heeseung was basically sulk incarnate watching how you made plans to give Riki a coffee for some reason—was it a date? Why would you even like that tall kid? Heeseung knew you better despite the little time he spent with you. It was a given that you didn’t offer much about yourself despite your outgoing personality, but he did know how you played with your nails, how your eyes go wide when you eat something good, and how fucking good you sound moaning his name.
“We’re all going to the cafe,” Sunoo chirped the second you stepped outside after the class, Heeseung following behind to see all his friends standing there too.
You did find it odd how he was silent today, too silent, even worse when he didn’t try to initiate any conversation with you, just falling into step with his friends instead. His hands were shoved deep in his hoodie pockets, shoulders a little hunched as the group started moving.
Halfway there he slowed down just enough to tug Jay’s sleeve, voice low and trying way too hard to sound casual, “Hey, can you do me a favour?”
Jay only raised his brow, urging him to continue, “uh, so when we sit down, maybe ask Y/N something that’ll get her talking, like the stuff going on in her life, just anything.”
Jay stopped dead for half a second, then let out a loud, wheezing laugh that practically bounced off the buildings. The sound was so sudden and genuine that you actually turned around mid-conversation with Karina and Winter, eyebrows raised like you were trying to figure out what was so funny. Jay just waved you off, still cracking up as he clapped Heeseung on the back a little too hard.
“You’re actually hopeless,” Jay wheezed, trying to keep his voice down but failing miserably, “just talk to her yourself, what the fuck.”
Heeseung shoved him off, cheeks hot, “shut up, man. Just—just do it, okay? Please.”
They caught up to the rest of the group right as you all reached the café. The usual corner table was free, so everyone piled in. Jake, of course, immediately dropped into the seat next to you like it was his assigned spot now. Heeseung ended up straight across from you, eyes meeting yours, but this time, he didn’t look away. The corner of your lips twitched seeing him this way, and soon, he found himself smiling fondly too.
Jay sat there as a witness to Heeseung’s internal breakdown, and well, happiness caused by two seconds of your undivided attention. In the midst of it all, everyone gave their orders, famished beyond words for some reason. The table was lively still, Jake trying to initiate conversations with you, even though Heeseung had not so subtly kicked him under the table to shut him up.
Jay waited until there was a small lull, then leaned forward with that lazy grin of his.
“So Y/N,” he said casually, like it was no big deal, “what’s the deal with you and Heeseung lately? You two been hanging out a lot or what? He’s been weirdly smiley these days.”
Heeseung’s heart did a stupid little flip, face clearly trying to play it cool, but his eyes were glued to you, waiting.
You took a sip of your drink and shrugged, knowing that if you say anything remotely wrong, Sunoo and Winter would be on your ass about it, “it’s nice hanging out with him, he’s funny.”
Jay snorted at how Heeseung’s smile widened, “funny, huh? That’s all you’re giving us?”
Before you could answer, Jake jumped in, mouth full of his cup ramen, which he somehow got into the cafe, “god, I shouldn’t have gotten Shin, I’m telling you, nothing beats Buldak. You team Buldak too, Y/N?”
Jake immediately turned to you with those big puppy eyes, “c’mon, tell him he’s wrong. Buldak or nothing, right?”
Sunoo and Sunghoon couldn’t even stand this, staring at Jake with the same expression of disgust, his fascination for you was genuinely funny.
You looked up at Hee, who waited for your answer with shiny eyes, then back at Jake again. Maybe teasing Heeseung wouldn’t hurt, right? Especially when he looked so innocent and serious about your input as if it mattered.
“I mean, Buldak is definitely good,” you agreed with Jake, taking another sip of your mango matcha.
Jake beamed at the reply, bumping your shoulder. But Heeseung’s smile faltered for a second, and you almost frowned, not expecting him to surrender, “yeah, fair enough,” he muttered, staying silent the rest of the time, eyes flicking up to you every few seconds, while you observed him openly.
Jay only sighed, and somehow Winter was just as exhausted at the exchange, because Heeseung couldn’t hide his feelings to save his life, and you?
You were missing the point of this little conversation entirely.
When everyone finally started packing up for their next lectures, the group split off in different directions. You noticed Heeseung hanging back a little, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders still hunched as he walked alone. With a chuckle, you jogged a couple steps, and grabbed his hand.
Heeseung startled hard, eyes going wide as he looked down at your fingers laced with his, and how perfect your new acrylics looked, the touch being enough to make a shiver go up his spine, “Y/N—?”
You only walked further, swinging your joined hands, “why so silent today?” You asked, looking up at him with a brow raised.
He let out a small breath, eyes flickering back to where your thumb brushed his knuckles, “it’s nothing, just thinking I guess.”
“Hm, about how I picked Buldak over Shin?” You tilted your head, “you got all quiet after that. Kinda cute, actually.”
Heeseung glanced away, the corner of his mouth twitching despite himself, “It’s not that, but Jake looked happy, so—yeah.”
“Shin’s my favourite actually, I only said Buldak to see you fight back, but yeah,” you shrugged with a smile.
Heeseung’s head snapped back toward you, surprised, “wait, really?”
“Yeah. Remember that night we ran into each other at the convenience store? You were grabbing Shin too, I noticed.” You pointed out, “and you barely ate anything at the café either. Come over later? We can have ramen together.”
Heeseung’s steps slowed at the implication, and it showed on his face, mixed with the fondness of the simple fact that you noticed such little things. He wasn’t the kind of guy who needed grand gestures, yes he’d appreciate it, but the little things mattered more.
“You—noticed that?” He asked quietly, almost shy.
You hummed, then leaned up on your toes, lips brushing the shell of his ear, “you can eat something else too if you want.”
That sent him into this mode of short circuiting, and before he could even form a reply, you let go of his hand with a bright, mischievous laugh and took off running ahead across the path, glancing back at him over your shoulder with that same playful grin.
Heeseung stood there for half a second, face burning, your words looping in his head like a damn song on repeat. Then a big, flustered smile broke across his face and he took off after you, knowing he’d catch up to you in no time.
“Fuck,” he yelled, half-laughing as he chased you down the walkway, “you can’t just say that and run—get back here!”
He really hoped it could always stay this easy with you.
You fell on your mattress with a thud, the springs creaking under the sudden weight of both of you. Heeseung landed right on top, chest pressed to yours, mouth already chasing yours in a hungry, desperate kiss that tasted like the faint strawberry from his drink earlier.
His lips were hot and insistent, tongue sliding against yours like he couldn’t get close enough, letting out every bit of his frustration into this kiss. One of his hands shoved under your hoodie and straight into your shorts, two fingers gliding through your slick folds before pushing inside you without hesitation. You gasped into his mouth, thighs falling open wider as he curled them deep, stroking that spot that made your back arch clean off the bed.
“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he breathed against your lips, and you only sank in further, kissing all the way down to his neck, letting an open mouthed kiss linger on his adam’s apple, feeling it blobbing under you as he gulped in need, as if parched.
Heeseung let out a shaky groan, fingers stuttering inside you for a second before he doubled down, thrusting them deeper, curling harder, “shit—you’re gonna make me lose it just from that.”
You smiled against his throat, sucking lightly, then dragged your teeth over the same spot while your hand kept working his cock in slow, tight strokes. He was throbbing in your palm, hot and slick with precum, hips twitching every time your thumb swept over the head, and you almost moaned cause he was big.
But it wasn’t enough, you wanted him under you, wanted to watch him fall apart.
You pushed at his chest, flipping him onto his back in one smooth motion. Heeseung let out a surprised grunt as you straddled his thighs, yanking his pants and boxers down just far enough. His cock sprang free, flushed dark and glistening, curving up against his stomach.
Wrapping your fingers around his base as you leaned in to give his tip a slow kiss, making him moan shamelessly, “wait—you don’t have to,” he managed to let out.
You looked up at him, lips brushing the wet slit as you spoke, “I know, I want to,” you whispered, “been thinking about having you in my mouth since you were sulking on the way here, just to apologize, y’know?”
Heeseung’s breath hitched, “god—you’re serious?”
Instead of answering, you took him in, lips stretching around the thick head, tongue pressing flat against the underside as you sank down. The taste of him filled your mouth, salty and warm, and you moaned softly around his length.
“Shit—baby,” Heeseung’s hand flew to your hair, holding on like he needed something to ground him, his thighs tensing under you, “your mouth feels—so fucking good.”
You hummed in response, taking him deeper until he bumped the back of your throat. You relaxed around him, swallowing, and he let out a broken groan, hips twitching up before he caught himself.
“Sorry—gosh I didn’t mean to,” he whispered.
You pulled off just enough to speak, lips shiny, a thin string of spit still connecting you to him, “don’t apologize. Fuck my throat if you want to.” You stroked him slow and firm, eyes locked on his, “I can take it, I want you to use me.”
Heeseung’s eyes darkened. He’d never done this before, sure he’d gotten blowjobs, but the permission to take in full control of it? Oh, he swore he was gonna die, “you’re gonna kill me saying shit like that.”
You chuckled and sank back down, taking him all the way until your nose brushed his stomach. You held there for a second, throat fluttering around him, before you started moving, wet bobs of your head, hand twisting around the base.
Heeseung’s head fell back against the pillow, a wrecked moan spilling out, “fuck, fuck—oh my god.” His fingers tightened in your hair, not forcing, but guiding you a little now, testing the waters, “you like this? Being on your knees for me?”
You moaned around him in answer, the vibration making his hips jerk. You pulled off with a gasp, spit dripping down your chin, “I like when you stop being so polite and just take what you want.” You licked a slow stripe up the underside, eyes never leaving his, “you’re always so sweet, Hee, but i also know how desperate you are, won’t you show it to me like a good fucking boy?”
Heeseung’s breath stuttered, it was almost like a switch flipping. His grip in your hair tightened just a fraction more, and when you took him back in, he let himself thrust up a little, shallow and careful at first.
“Like this?” He asked, voice strained, “tell me if it’s too much.”
You pulled off just enough to speak, lips brushing the head, “Harder, I can take it. Use my throat, baby.”
The words seemed to break something in him. He groaned deep in his chest and started moving his hips with more purpose, fucking into your mouth in short, needy thrusts. You relaxed your throat and let him, moaning encouragement around his cock every time he pushed deeper.
“Fuck, fuck—you’re so good,” he panted, voice cracking, “so fucking good at this. Look at you—taking me so deep.” His free hand came down to cup your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek while he watched himself disappear between your lips, “I didn’t know I liked this so much, watching you choke on me.”
You moaned louder, the praise and the way he was starting to lose control making heat flood between your legs. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking harder, and Heeseung’s head tipped back again, a string of curses falling from his lips.
“Baby—slow down or I’m gonna cum,” he warned, but his hips kept moving, like he couldn’t stop himself, “you’re really gonna let me cum down your throat?”
You pulled off with a wet pop, stroking him fast and tight, lips hovering just over the tip, “let me taste you.”
Heeseung’s eyes rolled back as he came with a broken moan of your name, hips jerking as he spilled down your throat in hot pulses. You swallowed every drop, working him through it until he was trembling and oversensitive, little whimpers slipping out every time your tongue moved.
When you finally pulled off, lips swollen and shiny, Heeseung was staring at you like you’d rewired his brain. His chest was heaving, hair sticking to his forehead, eyes dark and hazy.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered, voice shot, “I didn’t know I could like something that much.”
You wiped the corner of your mouth with your thumb, smirking as you crawled up his body and kissed him slowly, letting him taste himself on your tongue.
“You’re learning fast,” you murmured against his lips. “and we’re just getting started.”
So, you were true to your word, because by the time you both stopped, all breathless and spent, it was nighttime. In the midst of everything, you both had managed to fall asleep tangled with each other. Heeseung was the one to wake up first, caressing your cheek as he stared at how peacefully you slept in his arms.
He stayed like that for a long minute, thumb brushing the apple of your cheek, watching the way your lashes rested against your skin. Something heavy settled in his chest—not regret exactly, but a quiet, gnawing guilt that refused to leave him alone.
Carefully, he slipped out from under you, tucking the blanket around your bare shoulders so you wouldn’t get cold. He padded over to the window on quiet feet, pushing the curtain aside just enough to look out at the dark sky. The campus lights glowed faintly in the distance, stars barely visible through the city haze.
Heeseung pressed his forehead against the cool glass, exhaling slowly. What the fuck am I doing? The thought looped in his head. He’d loved Mina—or at least he’d told himself he did. They’d been together for over a year. But even on the best nights with her, he’d never felt this—free, this wanted. With you, you didn’t ask him to be anything other than exactly who he was in the moment, needy, desperate, a little mean when you pushed him, soft when you let him hold you after. Just a hint of your attention made his chest feel too full and that scared the shit out of him.
Because he’d sworn he loved Mina. But this? He wasn’t even sure what to name this feeling anymore, and it felt dramatic when nothing had even happened, just freedom and the best pleasure he’d ever experienced.
The floor creaked softly behind him, making him turn his head to find you sitting up in bed now, hair messy, eyes still heavy with sleep. Without saying anything, you reached for his hoodie that had been tossed on the floor earlier and pulled it over your head. It swallowed you, the hem brushing your thighs as you padded over barefoot to stand beside him.
You leaned your shoulder against the window frame, looking out at the same dark sky. For a moment neither of you spoke.
“You okay?” You asked eventually, voice soft.
Heeseung, however, was in deep thoughts of silent appreciation, because you looked beautiful, you always did, “yeah,” he let out a quiet breath, “I feel like an asshole for even saying this out loud, but—I don’t remember it ever feeling this easy with Mina, even when things were good. With you it’s just different. Like I don’t have to pretend or hold back or be anyone else. I don’t know. That probably sounds stupid.”
You stayed quiet for a second, then bumped your shoulder gently against his, “it doesn’t sound stupid. You’re allowed to feel whatever you feel, Hee, it’s valid. You don’t owe her anything anymore, and you don’t owe me some perfect version of yourself either, okay?”
“You’re too nice to me,” he mumbled.
You smiled, looking elsewhere for a moment as you gulped, “that’s what friends are for,” you let out.
Heeseung turned to look at you fully, friends, is that what you were? Because friends don’t do all this. So, Heeseung only managed to muster one question, hoping the reply would be enough of an action to understand if he was truly alone in this or not.
“Can I kiss you?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper with the hope to earn even something as little as a nod.
This means something more, you thought. This isn’t just sex anymore, not for him. Truly, Heeseung wasn’t even the kind to do this, so why did he agree to this? You wouldn’t mind being a rebound for him but him getting attached would be a problem. Would it really, though? You should’ve said no, but you found yourself being entranced by the beauty in his eyes.
So, instead you stepped closer, sliding your hands up his bare chest, and tilted your face up to his, “yeah,” you whispered, “you can.”
Heeseung’s breath caught as he cupped your face with both hands, thumbs brushing your cheeks like you were something fragile, slotting his lips onto yours almost achingly gentle, this almost felt like a question and an answer all at once to him.
When he pulled back, forehead resting against yours, he let out a shaky little laugh, pecking the corner of your mouth once.
The reflection on the window catching on everything you both were too afraid to admit.
Honestly, the fault was yours for not discussing the boundaries or making one of those contracts like they do in the movies or books (though they never work), cause now, you and Heeseung had been hanging around way more often, some witnesses might even confuse this intimacy for dating.
Maybe Heeseung was one of them, because when he texted you to come over, you half expected sex, not sitting alongside him learning League of legends at two in the morning. He was unpredictable to say the least, but he did wear his heart on his sleeve, so you could see the bits and pieces of the things he craved, and right now, he craved your time.
You didn’t mind giving it to him, but it did come with a cost. The second you walked into the room, eyes widening at this small corner of the desk where a mango matcha, a few blue walkers, and a pack of Ferrero Rocher was placed neatly, alongside two packets of cup noodles (just in case).
To Heeseung, it was normal, and you would have agreed had it been some synonym of aftercare, but no. It was just Heeseung being absolutely willing (and needing) to spend more time with you outside of your fancy little arrangement.
He had opened the door with a smile so contagious, you mirrored it as he led you inside. A small corner of his desk was full of snacks, a cup of matcha which he knew was your favourite, a couple of Ferrero Rochers because he saw you eating those during the English lecture. You stood there for a second longer than intended, staring at it all, then at the man who had already made himself comfortable on the spare chair, waiting for you with the same gentle smile he always carried around you, making you gulp for a second before you returned it.
“C’mere? Sit with me,” he said, patting his main gaming chair right next to him, and he half expected you to tease him for doing this, “I swear I’m not trying to be weird, and if you don’t wanna do this we can stop, or you can make fun of me.”
You let out a quiet huff of a laugh and kicked your shoes off before sliding into the chair beside him. Your knee bumped his under the desk and you left it there, the contact warm even through your clothes. Heeseung rolled his own chair closer right away, leaning in from behind you so his chest brushed lightly against your back, one arm resting along the back of your seat while the other reached around to the mouse, and you didn’t notice how he took in your scent with a dreamy sigh.
“We’re playing League of Legends?” You asked, and he nodded.
“Have you played it before?” He asked a little hesitant that you’d say you don’t wish to play or indulge in this.
“Nope,” you said, reaching for the matcha because your mouth suddenly felt dry. The cup was ice-cold, condensation dripping down your fingers as you took a sip, “I’m probably gonna suck at this, just so you know.”
Heeseung let out a small laugh, relieved that you aren’t opposed to this, “that’s fine, we can start from the basics,” he covered your hand with his on the mouse, guiding you through the first clicks. “You just run at people and spin when they get close. Super easy, I promise.”
His fingers were warm over yours, almost careful like he was scared you’d pull away. You felt the way his chest moved against your back when he breathed, the faint brush of his hair against your neck every time he leaned in a little closer to see the screen better.
You clicked around awkwardly and Garen just kind of—stood there swinging his sword at nothing, “this feels dumb,” you muttered, but you were smiling a little, “I look like a robot trying to dance.”
Heeseung bit his bottom lip at the sheer joy of having you play his favourite game, even though you looked lost, confused, and too adorable, “you don’t look dumb. You look cute as hell trying to figure it out.” He squeezed your hand gently and moved the mouse for you, making Garen run forward. “See? Just click on this, okay?”
You tried it and Garen spun like a big metal tornado, actually hitting a couple of the little enemy guys, “oh okay, that was kinda fun,” you admitted, biting your lip to hide the grin. You reached for one of the Ferrero Rochers with your free hand, unwrapped it, and popped it in your mouth. The chocolate melted sweet and crunchy on your tongue, “how’d you know I like this.”
Heeseung shrugged, his shoulder rubbing against yours, “I pay attention to you, sue me.” He took the half you offered him without hesitation, biting it right from your fingers, his lips brushing your skin for a second too long.
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the little flutter in your stomach at how brutally honest he was. He pays attention, he set all this up just so you’d feel comfortable doing something he likes. This isn’t what you signed up for, this is him wanting you around, not just in his bed. Stop feeling it. Stop.
The game kept going, as you died a bunch—running straight into the big tower like an idiot, getting smacked by random enemies—but Heeseung never made you feel stupid about it. He’d just lean in closer, chin resting on your shoulder now, arm wrapped a little tighter around the back of your chair, and murmur stuff like, “try backing up a tiny bit next time, yeah?” Or, “you’re getting the spin down though, that last one actually hit three of them, nice.”
You passed him chips from the blue walkers packet, your fingers brushing his every time. He took them without pulling away, crunching quietly while his other hand stayed on the mouse with yours, guiding you through another wave.
Heeseung couldn’t say this out loud but boy was he thrilled. It felt so nice, so domestic to do something so simple with someone (you). He couldn’t help but compare, simply because he didn’t know the basic possibilities of the relationship universe, though you weren’t in one. His ex never spared time for such things, indifferent about his interests, while you were so—sweet.
“You’ve done this before? Teaching someone like this, I mean?” You asked after a while, “or am I getting special treatment?”
Heeseung went quiet for a second, then let out a breathy little laugh against your neck, “special treatment,” he admitted, no hesitation, “and no, it’s my first time teaching anyone.”
You leaned back into him a little more without thinking, the warmth of his chest solid and comforting against your back, the kind of solace that you had never had the pleasure of experiencing before. Was it supposed to be this easy?
The snacks slowly disappeared between you—another Ferrero passed back and forth, the mango matcha cup getting lighter with every sip you took. Heeseung kept talking about random shit that had nothing to do with the game. How Jake had stolen his last ramen again, how he stayed up last night thinking about if aliens eat solid food, or if the Thestrals from Harry Potter can see each other or not.
You told him about the fanpage you had at fifteen, he listened like it was the most interesting thing ever, thumb stroking slow circles on the back of your hand the whole time.
At some point the first game ended. You were still pretty bad, but you weren’t frustrated anymore. Heeseung’s arm had stayed around you the whole time, his chin heavy on your shoulder, breathing warm against your skin.
He didn’t queue another match right away, instead he just sat there for a second, arms loose around your waist, like he was thinking.
“C’mere,” he murmured, voice a little rough as his hands slid to your hips and he tugged you gently, pulling you straight off the spare chair and into his lap like it was the easiest thing in the world. Your back settled fully against his chest, thighs bracketing his, his arms wrapping around you properly so he could still reach everything if he wanted. The chair creaked once under both of you. You fit too well, way too well.
He rested his chin back on your shoulder and clicked into another custom game like nothing had changed, but his arms stayed tight around your waist, like he didn’t want to let go.
“What are we doing, Hee?” You asked in a low mumble.
Heeseung went still, arms locking tighter around your waist like the question had burned him, he was afraid you’d bring it up and that’s exactly what you did. You felt him swallow hard, breath shaky against your neck.
He opted to answer with his actions instead, turning your face toward him with one hand and kissing you, lips pressing firm like he’d been dying to do it. His tongue slid in right away, tasting like chocolate and the mango you’d been sharing all night. He made this quiet, embarrassed little sound in his throat and kissed you harder, fingers sliding into your hair to hold you there.
You tried to pull back half an inch, though absolutely feeling your heartbeat fastening at how good the kiss, the warmth felt, “Hee, wait—”
He chased your mouth instantly, cutting you off with another kiss, deeper this time, tongue lazy and filthy against yours. His hand slipped under your top, palm hot and a little unsteady on your bare waist, thumb stroking slow circles like he needed to feel your skin to stay sane. He was breathing hard through his nose, cheeks burning against yours, but he wouldn’t let you speak. Every single time your lips parted he was right there again, kissing you quiet, desperate and messy like talking would ruin whatever this was.
“Bed,” he mumbled against your mouth. He stood up with you still in his lap, hands under your thighs, and carried you the few steps across the room. The second your back hit the mattress he was on top of you, settling between your legs and kissing you again before you could even breathe.
This time it was slower but no less intense. His tongue moved against yours in these long, deep strokes while one hand pushed further under your top, palm flat on your stomach, sliding up until his fingers brushed the edge of your bra. His other hand stayed tangled in your hair, tugging gently every time you tried to talk. He was so fucking flustered—ears red, breath shaky, little embarrassed groans slipping out whenever you rolled your hips up into him—but he still wouldn’t let you ask.
Every time you opened your mouth he swallowed it with another kiss, and you groaned, pulling him into you deeper, letting him showcase his feelings through whatever this was, and you understood it, but couldn’t stop it or ask any further, because you knew he’d deflect as if it scared him.
As if the only answer he could give was this.
You were decent at saying no, in fact, some might even admit how good you were at it, blunt as fuck. But that ability was limited to the world and it most certainly didn’t apply to this glorious six foot tall man who wished for you to join him at the basketball court. You could have made up some excuse, maybe tell him you have a lab report due, but you didn’t do that—because you wanted to go.
“This is getting ridiculous,” said Winter, watching you change into a loose t-shirt and old shorts, “you hate sports. You once told me basketball was just a bunch of giants running in circles. Now you’re rushing out at night because Heeseung said come watch me play? And you’re dressing up the part too?”
You shrugged, tying your hair up, “It’s not that deep. I’m bored.”
“Sure, tell yourself that,” she mumbled with her brow raised.
Well, she wasn’t exactly wrong, but you didn’t care much as you made your way out towards the court which was lit up by some harsh floodlights, looking over to find some guys already deep in the game. You could spot Heeseung, Chenle, Beomgyu, and Sunghoon—t-shirts sticking to their backs.
Nics (Chenle’s girlfriend) and Moon (Sunghoon’s girlfriend) were already on the bleachers with their chaotic friend, Ricey, who always carried snacks in her bag. The second they spotted you, Nics waved you over with a grin, patting the spot next to her.
Heeseung was mid-dribble when his head snapped in your direction, the ball bouncing once before he caught it against his hip. Even from across the court you could see the way his face softened, that small, stupidly genuine smile breaking through like usual. He lifted his free hand in a quick wave.
“Yo, Y/N’s here!” Chenle shouted, grinning like an idiot as he wiped sweat off his forehead with the hem of his shirt, “perfect timing, let’s do girls versus boys now.”
Nics hopped off the bleachers first, already pulling her hair up, “final-fucking-ly. Come on, we’re making this four on four.”
Moon laughed and stood up too, nudging Ricey, “you in or are you just gonna sit there eating chips the whole time?”
Ricey popped another chip in her mouth before standing, “I’m in, but if I break a nail I’m blaming all of you.”
You didn’t get a chance to sit as you got dragged into the court. Heeseung jogged over to you, still breathing a little hard, hair messy and damp. Up close he smelled like sweat and that familiar woody cologne, and the way he looked at you made you shiver.
“You actually came,” he breathed, grabbing your arm without thinking much at all.
“Couldn’t let you embarrass yourself alone,” you replied, stealing the ball from his hands just to mess with him. He laughed, eyes crinkling, and for a second it felt like the rest of the court disappeared.
But boy was it chaotic with Moon just distracting Hoon half the time, Nics and Chenle spent the time arguing—which was clearly their way of flirting, meanwhile Ricey was enjoying the drama in the middle of this all. The game was messy, and oh so loud.
You mostly ended up guarding Heeseung, and he was clearly not focused on winning anymore.
The first time you drove past him, he barely tried to block you, just let you slip by with this stupid little smile on his face. When you scored, he was the first one clapping, muttering under his breath, “fuck, that was hot,” loud enough for Beomgyu to hear and immediately start laughing.
“You’re not even guarding her properly!” Sunghoon yelled, hands on his knees, “you just watched her score and looked proud as hell!”
Heeseung didn’t even deny it, just shrugged, eyes still locked on you as you dribbled back.
“She’s fast,” he said, but the way he said it was way too soft, and he wondered why he called you with others around when he should’ve done this one on one, but even then, he was thrilled to see you fit in so well with everyone.
The court lights hummed overhead, casting long shadows across the cracked asphalt, your oversized t-shirt clung to your skin in damp patches, the thin cotton sticking to the curve of your waist and the small of your back every time you moved. Heeseung’s eyes kept dropping to where the hem rode up every time you moved, and honestly? You liked it.
You caught the ball again and drove straight at him. This time his hand found your waist right away, palm warm through the damp fabric, thumb brushing under the hem like he couldn’t help himself. You spun past anyway, shoulder bumping his chest, and laid it up clean. When you landed he was still there, fingers lingering on your hip for a second longer than necessary.
“Shit, you’re good,” he muttered by your ear.
Beomgyu groaned loud enough for everyone to hear, “Heeseung, your hand was literally on her the whole time!”
Sunghoon just shook his head, “I can’t watch this anymore.”
A few plays later you slowed right in front of him, dribbling lazy, then hit him with the pout—bottom lip out, eyes big. Heeseung’s shoulders dropped instantly, “come on, that’s cheating,” he whined, but he was already stepping aside, hand sliding to your hip again as you blew past and scored.
Ricey started cracking up from the fence. “He folded. Let’s fucking go!”
Nics and Moon were dying, “Y/N, you’re actually evil,” Moon yelled, “like—look at him.”
The game kept going like that, every time you got near him his hands were on your waist or lower back, like he needed the excuse to touch you. After one layup he caught you around the middle when you landed, pulling you back against his chest for a second, chin brushing your shoulder.
“You’re killing me out here,” he said quietly, thumb rubbing slow against your side.
You turned your head, “stop letting me win so obviously.”
“Can’t,” he admitted, fingers flexing on your hip, “can’t stop you.”
Final possession got you dribbling right up to him. He stepped up, but the second you gave him the pout he let out a soft laugh and just gave up, both hands settling on your waist.
“Go win, baby,” he whispered, not even trying to hide it anymore as you drove and laid it in clean.
Game over.
Nics scooped you up spinning you once while Moon and Ricey cheered like idiots. The second your feet hit the ground Heeseung was there, arm sliding around your waist and pulling you back against him. His t-shirt was damp against yours, heartbeat steady on your back.
“You’re impossible,” he murmured into your hair, thumb still tracing slow circles on your hip under the hem, “didn’t even wanna stop you.”
You leaned into him, grinning, “you had your hands on me the whole second half.”
“Yeah,” he said, no shame at all, “felt too good.”
Heeseung didn’t get to talk more as a fuming Chenle grabbed his collar and dragged him away for what seemed to be some good beating.
Moon and Nics immediately grabbed your arms at the opportunity and pulled you a few steps away, cornering you near the fence while Heeseung was distracted talking (arguing) to Chenle.
“Okay, spill,” Moon said, “what the hell is going on with you two? Because that was not subtle.”
Nics nodded, still half-laughing, “girl, he had his hands on your waist like every single play. He’s so into you it’s actually funny.”
You tried to play it cool, wiping sweat off your neck with the bottom of your shirt, “It’s not like that. We’re just—hanging out? No strings, y’know?”
They waited for you to say you’re joking, or just laugh, but then none of it came and they gasped, collectively.
“You’re not serious,” Moon deadpanned.
Nics’ eyes went huge, “wait. You’re actually serious.”
Ricey let out a low whistle, leaning against the fence, “damn, Y/N. I thought you were messing with us.”
You shrugged, trying to laugh it off, but the sound came out rather shaky. Your stomach did that stupid little flip again, like your body was calling you a liar before your mouth could. The cool night air on your damp neck suddenly felt too cold, and your t-shirt clung uncomfortably to your skin, “I mean, yeah, that’s the deal. We both said it from the start.”
The words felt flat even as you said them. Your eyes drifted across the court before you could stop yourself. Chenle still had Heeseung in that dramatic headlock, ranting about how embarrassing he was, but Heeseung wasn’t even pretending to fight back. His head turned and his gaze found yours instantly through the mess of hair falling in his face. That soft, stupid little smile tugged at his lips like getting chewed out didn’t matter at all. Just you did.
Your chest squeezed as you looked away, but Moon followed your stare and let out a quiet oh, “girl, look at him right now. He’s getting yelled at and he’s still staring at you like that? Come on.”
Nics nudged your side. “he had his hands on your waist literally every single time you got near him. Called you baby in front of all of us. Folded like a lawn chair the second you pouted. That’s a man catching feelings and not even trying to hide it.”
Ricey nodded, arms crossed, “for real. We were all watching, he was playing how many times can I touch my girl without getting called out.”
You swallowed, heat creeping up your neck that had nothing to do with the game anymore, “It’s not like that,” you mumbled but even you could hear how unsure you sounded. The way Heeseung was still looking at you made the label feel thinner than your sweaty t-shirt.
Before anyone could push harder, Chenle finally shoved Heeseung away with one last groan. Heeseung jogged back over, hair wrecked, cheeks flushed, but his eyes were already locked on you again. His arm slid around your waist without hesitation, palm warm and familiar against the damp fabric like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“You guys done roasting her yet?” He asked, voice light and a little out of breath.
Ricey snorted, “not even close.”
Heeseung just grinned and pulled you closer, chin brushing the top of your head. You leaned into him without thinking, the solid warmth of his side against yours making that chest-tight feeling even worse. Or better, you couldn’t tell anymore.
Your newfound friends exchanged a look behind his back, but you caught it anyway.
Whatever this was—it didn’t feel like no strings anymore. Not even a little.
Heeseung always thought that his partner would an extension of his very soul, and he never achieved that. Maybe the saying can be moulded into perspectives of sort, perhaps connection wasn’t about mirroring souls but about finding someone who made the fractures feel intentional, beautiful even.
He mindlessly knocked on the door, heart drumming an uneven rhythm against his ribs, not expecting the door to open so quickly, his breath hitching at the sight of you in front of him.
Maybe your partner isn’t supposed to be an extension of you, but rather someone who’d stand on the opposite side of the spectrum and still look like a perfect puzzle when fitted together.
You stood there like a living poem rendered in silk—clad in a breathtaking white gown that slipped over your skin with liquid grace, the delicate fabric catching the hallway’s muted glow, the thin straps tracing the delicate architecture of your collarbones like a lover’s fingertip. It moved with you, shimmering faintly, alive with every subtle shift of your weight. Your hair styled perfectly, lips glossed to a tempting sheen, and the whole vision struck him so viscerally that the air in his lungs simply vanished.
You looked beautiful, like an angel in all white, while he stood in front of you in a black leather jacket, juxtaposing every bit of elegance you exuded.
Heeseung forgot how to breathe quite literally as time fractured around him. His gaze dragged over you in helpless reverence, while a razor-edged thought sliced through the haze. Are you going out? On a date? With someone else? The image of another man’s eyes tracing that same silk, another hand brushing the curve of your waist beneath it, coiled hot and ugly in his chest, stealing what little breath he had left.
“Hee?” You asked with a smile, tilting your head with genuine surprise, “what are you doing here?”
He gulped, forcing his eyes back up and oxygen to cooperate within him, “you’re breathtaking,” he managed, “I forgot what I came for.”
Warmth crept up your neck at the nervousness of the man in front of you, he was adorable—shifting from one leg to the other, playing with his fingers, as if the simple act of standing there might unravel him completely. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, cheeks flushed a soft rose, and those wide, doe-like eyes kept flicking back to the silk clinging to your body. You could practically feel the rapid thud of his heartbeat from where you stood, the way his throat worked on another swallow, the subtle tremor in his shoulders as he tried (and failed) to play it cool.
“I, uh—” Heeseung rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a small, embarrassed laugh, “I wanted to show you something. I’ve been carrying it around all day like an idiot because I thought you might like it. Figured tonight could be, I don’t know, nice? Just us.”
Your heart gave a small tug, the evening plans you’d been dreading now sitting like a weight in your chest, “god, Hee—I wish I could,” you said softly, “my parents are in town and we have this family dinner thing tonight. It’s one of those non-negotiable things. I was literally about to walk out the door when you knocked.”
Heeseung’s shoulders dropped just a fraction, disappointment flickering across his face before he quickly tried to smooth it over. He nodded, offering you a small, understanding smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, though he was relieved it wasn’t a boy you’d dressed up for, “no, gosh. It’s okay, I hope you have fun.”
He paused, eyes still lingering on you like he couldn’t help it, “but—if you’re not too tired later, maybe we could still meet up? Even if it’s just for a little while. No pressure or anything, I just—I really like being around you.”
All you could manage was a nod, making him smile wider. It was always a surprise at how clearly Heeseung said whatever he meant, and it wasn’t the best thing for your poor heart, which probably matched Heeseung’s pace now. Bidding goodbye was another problem especially when Heeseung stared till you got inside the cab. The dinner was a haze, your mom staring at your zoned out state with a knowing smile.
“Who is it?” She sighed finally, making you look up in horror.
“Mom—no,” you warned, knowing just how interested your family was in gossiping, which didn’t exclude gossip about you by any means.
“What? She laughed, feigning innocence while your dad hid his grin behind his water glass, “I’m just asking. You’ve been smiling at nothing and zoning out all night, now spill.”
Your cousin leaned in, eyes sparkling with mischief, “yeah, girl. You look like you’re thinking about someone. Is he cute? Does he go to your uni?”
Heat flooded your cheeks, “there’s no one,” you lied, though the words felt flimsy even to you, “I’m just tired.”
Your mom reached over and squeezed your wrist gently, “mhm, sure. Whoever he is, he’s lucky if he’s got you looking like this. Just don’t forget to eat, okay? You’re glowing, but you’re also not touching your food.”
You groaned, covering your face with both hands as the table erupted into light laughter. The teasing continued with your dad throwing in a dramatic “If he hurts you, I’ll find him” that made everyone chuckle—but you managed to dodge the worst of it, cheeks burning the whole time. By the time dessert came, your family had mercifully moved on, though your mom’s knowing glances never quite stopped.
Meanwhile, Heeseung stood alone on the rooftop of the main university building, the cool night breeze slipping beneath the collar of his leather jacket and ruffling his dark hair. He’d quietly borrowed the keys from the maintenance office earlier—something he wasn’t proud of, but tonight the small rebellion felt worth it. Up here, the view was stunning. City lights stretched out below like scattered diamonds across black velvet, the crescent moon hung low, casting a silvery glow over everything. He slipped an airpod in, letting his playlist fill the silence.
His hand drifted to the inner pocket of his jacket, fingers brushing the carefully wrapped item inside. He’d wanted to show it to you tonight, watch your face light up, maybe steal a few more stolen moments of that easy warmth you gave him so effortlessly.
Heeseung leaned against the railing, staring out at the glittering skyline while the music in his earpods played on, and he wondered if you were thinking about him too, somewhere across town amid the family dinner. He didn’t mind waiting, in fact, he was good at it when it meant so much to him. Regardless, every couple of minutes he’d glance at the door, half-convinced he was being ridiculous for waiting up here like some lovesick idiot.
As he turned back again, the faint creak of the door was heard, and he went still. You stepped onto the rooftop still wrapped in that white silk gown, the wind caught the hem immediately, making it swirl softly around your legs, and when you smiled at him—he felt it right in the center of his chest.
“Hi,” you said, voice quiet.
Heeseung pulled the airpods out slowly, letting them dangle from his fingers, “you—you actually came,” he breathed, the words slipping out before he could stop them, his eyes moved over you again, helpless, “in that dress, god, Y/N.”
You walked closer, heels soft against the concrete, “told you I would. Couldn’t stop thinking about whatever you wanted to show me,” a small laugh escaped you.
He took a half-step closer, “I wasn’t sure,” he admitted, “but I’m really glad you’re here. You look—” he trailed off, shaking his head with a soft, almost disbelieving smile, “I don’t even have the words tonight, you’re beautiful.”
It was foreign, the way you felt all mushy inside with a compliment, granted you got those all the time, but this felt new. You stopped just inches from him, close enough to see the way the moonlight caught in his dark eyes, the faint flush still lingering on his cheeks, “show me, then,” you whispered.
Heeseung’s breath caught for the briefest moment. Then he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and drew out a small box wrapped in simple paper, tied with a slender black ribbon. He placed it gently into your waiting hands, his fingers brushing yours with a lingering warmth that sent another quiet flutter through you.
You untied the ribbon, letting the paper fall away until the snow globe rested heavy in your palms. Inside the delicate glass sphere, a tiny couple danced beneath an invisible sky—her in a flowing white dress that mirrored the silk clinging to your body, him in a dark jacket that echoed the leather draped across Heeseung’s shoulders. Their hands were joined, bodies turned toward one another in quiet, perfect harmony. When you tilted the globe, soft white flakes swirled around them like the first gentle snowfall of winter, catching the moonlight in tiny, luminous sparks.
A rush of something overwhelming bloomed low in your stomach, as if butterflies unfurling their wings until your chest felt too full, too light. You looked up at him, eyes wide and shimmering. “Heeseung,” you breathed, “this is us. The dress, the jacket, it’s exactly like us.”
He bit his bottom lip, smiling shyly as he nodded, eyes soft with affection that he never failed to display. “Yeah,” he murmured, stepping closer until the globe rested safely between your bodies, pressed lightly against the silk over your heart, “I know it’s a little cheesy, but when I saw it, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
It was yet again when he had rendered you speechless so beautifully, a small smile still graced your lips, and you couldn’t hide it, you didn’t wish to hide it, “it’s not cheesy, it’s beautiful, Hee. Thank you.”
You held the globe for another heartbeat, letting the tiny flakes swirl and sparkle inside the glass, before you turned gently and set it on the wide concrete railing
Heeseung watched you, nervous as he reached into his pocket, pulling out one of the earpods and holding it out to you between two fingers, “dance with me?” He asked, voice hopeful, “I’ve had this song on repeat—uh, I kept imagining what it would sound like with you here.”
It was as if you were facing the real tale of the entanglement after the initial surface level attraction had worn off, which should’ve made it worse, right? But Heeseung, unlike any other potential love interest you’d met, shone brighter after revealing himself day by day.
You took the airpod from him without a second’s hesitation and slid it in, that familiar, timeless melody of Everybody Loves Somebody filling your ear like an old friend crooning about love that finds you when you least expect it. Heeseung’s fingers brushed yours as he took your hand, threading them together with a quiet certainty that made your breath hitch. His other palm settled at your waist, warm through the silk, and he drew you in until your bodies met, like they’d been waiting all along. You let your free hand rest against his chest, right over the steady thud of his heart beneath the leather.
Heeseung let out a soft, breathy laugh, “fuck, I actually feel stupid right now,” he muttered, “I’ve never danced before.”
You laughed, leaning into his scent further, “you’re doing great, Hee.”
“Yeah?” Another dorky chuckle rumbled through his chest. He adjusted his hold on you, thumb moving in a slow, absent circle at your waist, “I don’t know, lately I keep catching myself doing shit I never thought I’d do. Like stealing keys to a rooftop, buying a snow globe because it reminded me of you. It’s weird, I feel like I’m figuring out all these parts of myself I didn’t even know were there.”
He stole keys, the thought itself made you chuckle again. You’d once read somewhere that the act of loving someone doesn’t stop at accepting them but furthers by coaxing their selfhood out of them—it felt that way for you too because who would have thought you’d be dancing with someone at a rooftop wearing a gown?
You squeezed his hand gently, “I like that,” you said, “I like that you’re figuring it out with me.”
The proximity was perfect, yet your bodies kept on gravitating towards each other every few steps, and eventually the melody began to fade. You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, the position mirroring that of the snow globe miniatures. Taking another step, you leaned forward just enough to slot your lips against his, almost as if breathing each other in, lips parting at the same time before pressing into a gentle peck. Heeseung exhaled shakily against you, his hand tightening at your waist for a second like he was trying to remember how to breathe.
When you finally drew back, you gave him that smile you knew he couldn’t resist. You slipped the airpod out of your ear and dropped it into his open palm, fingers brushing his one last time. At the same time you reached over, picked up the snow globe from the railing, and tucked it carefully against your chest.
“Night, baby,” you whispered as you turned toward the door.
Heeseung just stood there, completely still, breathing a little harder than before. His eyes were wide and utterly lovestruck as he watched you walk away. The rooftop door clicked shut behind you, but he didn’t move for a long time—just stayed right where he was under the moonlight, that dazed, helpless smile slowly taking over his face.
You were panting as Heeseung pressed his lips on the base of your spine, sending a shiver up your back. He hadn’t been patient pulling you in his bed, turning you over to unzip your dress. He groaned with each kiss as if he was pleasuring himself instead of you while savouring every inch of skin exposed.
Heeseung pressed his forehead against the middle of your back for a second, breathing hard, “you’re trembling,” he whispered against you, “is my mouth really making you feel that good?” He kissed between your shoulder blades, then higher, until his lips brushed the nape of your neck, “tell me, baby. Tell me how wet you are right now just from this.”
“So wet,” you gasped, pushing your hips back against him, “Hee—please.”
He let out a broken groan and shoved your panties to the side with impatient fingers, not even bothering to pull them off. The thick head of his cock nudged against your slick entrance, hot and heavy, before he sank into you in one long, relentless thrust.
“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound guttural as he bottomed out, stretching you wide, “you’re soaking my cock, baby. So fucking tight and wet for me.” He pulled back slowly, then drove in again, harder, the wet slap of skin echoing in the room, “listen to that. Hear how greedy your pussy is for me?”
You cried out, fingers clawing at the sheets as he set a deep, punishing rhythm, each stroke dragging perfectly against that sensitive spot inside you.
“Heeseung—oh god, yes—” your voice broke on a moan, tears of overwhelming pleasure already stinging your eyes, “harder—please, I need it harder.”
Heeseung cursed under his breath and fucked you deeper, hips snapping forward with filthy precision, “like this?” He panted, voice hoarse “you want me to ruin this pretty little pussy? Tell me how good it feels, baby. I want to hear you fall apart.”
“It feels so good,” you sobbed, pushing back to meet every thrust, “you’re so deep—fuck, Hee, I can’t—”
The pleasure coiled tighter and tighter, white-hot and devastating, until it finally snapped.
“I love you—” the words tore out of you, raw and desperate, “Heeseung, I love you—”
He froze mid-thrust, buried to the hilt inside you, body going completely rigid.
“What?” His voice was barely a whisper, shocked and trembling.
You whimpered, hips twitching helplessly around his cock, the confession spilling out again in a blurry, broken rush, “I love you, I love you so much—”
Heeseung pulled out suddenly, making you whine at the loss. In one swift motion he flipped you onto your back, hovering over you with wide, dark eyes and a chest that heaved like he’d forgotten how to breathe.
“Say it again,” he demanded, voice hoarse and shaking as he stared down at you, one hand cupping your jaw, “look at me and say it again, baby. Please.”
Your eyes were glassy, lips parted on a shaky breath, but the words seemed to have blurred, your face disappearing right in front of his eyes as you said, “I love—”
He woke up with a sharp, ragged gasp, bolting upright in his own bed, heart slamming violently against his ribs. The room was dark and silent except for his own frantic breathing. Sweat slicked his skin, and when he looked down, the front of his sweatpants was soaked with a warm, sticky mess.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispered hoarsely, dragging a trembling hand down his face, cheeks burning with heat.
It was hard for him to contain himself when this is all he could dream of the past six days, feeling it deep despite it being a dream. Wet dream was fine really, but the confession that echoed? Yeah, that definitely made Heeseung feel eccentric because he needed to hear that for real despite the terms of the relationship between you both. It was bound to bloom into something more.
You two had fallen into a rhythm that didn’t need a label really. He showed up outside your lectures with your stupidly specific drink (matcha), the one with the exact ratio you liked, because he’d paid attention the one time you made a face at the wrong version. You’d started leaving your oversized hoodie at his place just so you could steal his instead and he could wear yours, the sleeves swallowing your hands while you lounged on his bed scrolling through your phone. He noticed how you always tugged at your bottom lip when you were thinking too hard, how you stole the last sip of his drink without asking, how your shoulders relaxed the second you kicked your shoes off after a long day. You noticed the way he rubbed the bridge of his nose when he was tired but too stubborn to admit it, the soft little hum he made when something tasted exactly right, the way his eyes lingered on you a beat longer than necessary whenever you laughed at something dumb he said.
You weren’t calling it dating, you weren’t calling it anything. But you also weren’t fighting it. You’d never been the type to deny yourself something that made you feel good, and Heeseung made you feel good in a way that snuck up on you. So you let yourself have it without the complications of overthinking.
Later that morning, Heeseung walked across campus still half-dazed from the dream, that stupid, lingering smile refusing to leave his face. The memory of your voice saying those three words kept looping in his head, well, until a voice didn’t wish to hear ruined his train of thoughts.
“Well, well. If it isn’t the thief.”
Heeseung slowed to a stop and turned. Jaemin stood there with his arms crossed, wearing the same smug, pissed-off expression he used to think was charming.
Heeseung let out a dry, humorless scoff, “thief? That’s fucking hilarious coming from the guy who was literally balls-deep in my ex while we were still together.”
Jaemin stepped closer, eyes narrowing, “whatever helps you sleep at night. You really think you’re gonna keep her interested?” His voice dripped with condescension, “Y/N doesn’t do soft boys. All that cute shit you do, y’know? All that bringing her drinks, playing with her hair, looking at her like she’s the only person in the room? She’ll get bored so soon. She needs someone who can actually keep up with her, not some pathetic, whipped little romantic who gets all starry-eyed at the sight of her.”
Heeseung forced out a dry laugh, “yeah sure, keep telling yourself that.”
Jaemin stepped even closer, that ugly little smirk twisting his mouth, “you’re playing house while she’s used to getting fucked properly, I’m sure you’re not offering much to at all, you’re nothing but a rebound to her,” he scoffed once, and walked away.
But the damage was done, because yes, Heeseung was soft, almost a whipped little romantic who let you take the lead when things got heated, how you pinned his wrists down or told him exactly how you wanted him, and how much he fucking loved giving in to you. The dream from this morning flashed behind his eyes again, your voice breaking on those three words while he was the one completely undone above you. Now it all felt suddenly pathetic, like something Jaemin could point at and laugh at.
Jealousy, envy, insecurity, these were the things he didn’t wish to feel, and gladly so, he never felt that with you, so why was an outsider here to remind him of his so called weaknesses? It felt like a spiral how he skipped the next lecture and pondered on Jaemin’s words. Did you actually not enjoy your time with him? Was he enough? Did you want a more intense relationship? Was it just a rebound?
He couldn’t find the answers to any of those questions, and managed to ignore every single text and call that came his way, letting himself cool down on the rooftop yet again.
What he essentially forgot was how communication wasn’t a part of the relationship but the very pillar that ran practically any relationship on this earth, this being the very first instance of him not being able to express himself—something he did so freely around you.
And so, the day passed without him replying to you.
You felt the absence like a missing pulse.
“You look crazy checking your phone every two minutes,” Sunoo pointed out, and you huffed, grabbing your phone again to stare at the unread texts you’d sent him through the day.
The screen glowed mockingly in the low light of your dorm room, the blue bubble of your last message still floating unanswered beneath the others, heeseung? talk to me. you okay? i’m coming over if you don’t answer. Just silence that didn’t sit right with you.
Sunoo flopped dramatically across the foot of your bed, legs kicking up behind him, while Winter perched on the windowsill, she watched you with that knowing tilt of her head, the one that always preceded a lecture of affection.
“Babe,” she said, “he’s been ghosting the group chat too, something’s off. Like, capital-O off.”
You set the phone face-down on the blanket, but your fingers still twitched toward it. Sunoo nudged your ankle with his socked foot.
“Go, seriously, and if he’s being a dramatic little shit, tell him Sunoo said to grow a pair and answer his damn phone.” His grin was bright, “you’re so in love it’s pathetic.”
Your lip only twitched, and you didn’t admit nor deny it. It was too early to even overthink what happened, was he drowning himself in self destruction while embracing pain for absolutely no reason? Regardless you frowned with disdain, pushing yourself up to actually do something about the situation, choosing to wear his hoodie he gave you a few days earlier.
You didn’t bother fixing your hair or changing out of the soft shorts you’d been rotting in all evening. This wasn’t about looking put-together, it was about the fact that Heeseung had never once left a message on read without answering, in fact, he was the one who usually texted first, shared his problems, and discussed any and everything this world has to offer. Whatever had him locked down like this, it had teeth, and you were done waiting for him to chew through it alone.
By the time you reached there, a feeling of nervousness washed over you. Jake pulled the door open almost immediately, like he’d been hovering behind it. His eyes were wide, hair sticking up in about six different directions, and he looked so relieved to see you that it almost hurt.
“Jesus Christ, you’re here,” he sighed, stepping aside so you could slip in, “he got back from class and just shut down. Told me to fuck off when I asked if he wanted pasta. Jay tried the concerned roommate bit and got the door slammed in his face. This isn’t—he doesn’t do this, y’know?”
You nodded, throat tight, “I know.”
Jake hesitated, then added almost sheepishly, “if he’s being a dick, tell him I said to stop being a dramatic prick or i’ll take you away, or whatever.”
You gave him a chuckle and headed straight for the bedroom door, hoping that it wouldn’t be locked. It wasn’t, thankfully so, and you pushed the door open before you could talk yourself out of it. Heeseung sat on the edge of the bed in those black sweats that hung too low on his hips, elbows on his knees, staring at nothing. His hair was a mess, like he’d been running his hands through it for hours. The silver chain sat against his collarbone, rising and falling with these tight little breaths. He looked exhausted, hollowed out even.
He heard the door and his head snapped up.
For a second his eyes went wide, like he couldn’t believe it was really you standing there. The whiplash of emotions was too much, especially when you were clad in his hoodie with sadness gracing your pretty face that he really always wished to see happy. He stood up so fast the bed creaked, crossed the room in two strides, and pulled you against him like he’d been waiting to do exactly that all day.
His hands were rough as he grabbed your nape the second the door closed shut behind you, breathing hard as your lips parted to ask a question, but he only closed his eyes, slid his hand up to your head as he pushed you against the door, pushing his lips against yours in a messy claim.
He can be rough, he can be the one to give you pleasure, of course he can. His fingers tightened in your hair, tilting your head exactly how he wanted it, tongue sliding in deep. You tasted the faint cherry from whatever he’d been drinking, felt the way his chest heaved against yours like he’d been running.
“Missed you,” he mumbled right into your mouth, the words half-bitten off by another rough kiss, “fuck, I missed you so bad today.”
“Heeseung—wait, what the hell happened—” you tried, but he swallowed the question with his mouth, sucking on your bottom lip hard enough to sting before dragging his teeth down the side of your neck. His free hand shoved under the hem of the hoodie, palm sprawled over the expanse of your waist, fingers digging in like he needed to feel skin right now
“Shh,” he breathed against your throat, voice wrecked, “don’t talk. Just—let me.” He sucked a mark right below your ear, like he was stamping proof that you were here, that you were his. His hips pressed forward, pinning you tighter to the door, and you could feel how hard he already was through his sweats.
The force of him made your breath hitch, your back flush against the cool wood while every inch of him burned insistent. He was never like this, not with you. Heeseung had always been careful, as if afraid that wrong move would make you slip away. But tonight something had snapped in him, and the way his fingers trembled just slightly against your skin told you he knew it too. He was trying to prove a point—to himself, to the ghost of Jaemin’s voice still echoing in his head—that he could be the rough, ravenous version he thought you wanted.
He spun you around so fast your palms slapped against the full-length mirror on the back of his closet door. The cool glass kissed your bare chest, making your nipples tighten instantly. Heeseung’s chest pressed flush to your back, one hand sliding up to grip your jaw, forcing your head up so you had no choice but to look at your own reflection—parted lips, eyes already glassy.
“Look at yourself,” he rasped, “look how fucking pretty you are when you’re like this for me.”
His other hand snaked down your stomach, fingers dipping between your thighs without warning. Two thick digits pushed inside you in one smooth glide, curling instantly against that spot that made your knees buckle. You gasped, forehead dropping forward until it rested on the mirror, but Heeseung’s grip on your jaw tightened, yanking you back up.
“Eyes open, baby. Watch, yeah?”
It most certainly was hot to see him take control, but you couldn’t understand the sudden switch, the implications, your mind was too foggy with the way you’d missed him through the day. Heeseung was too in his head, as if on some mission to make you feel good—which he always achieved, yet was not satisfied.
He pumped his fingers slow and deep, twisting them on every drag out so you felt every ridge, every knuckle. The wet, slick sounds of your pussy taking his fingers echoed obscenely in the quiet dorm room. In the mirror you watched it all: the way your lips parted on a shaky moan, the flush crawling down your neck to your chest, the way your tits pressed and flattened against the cool glass with every rock of your hips. Heeseung’s reflection behind you was devastating—dark hair falling into his eyes, jaw clenched tight, that chain around his neck swaying every time he thrust his fingers harder.
“God, you’re so deep already,” you whimpered, hips rocking back to meet his hand, “keep going like that, yeah, just like that, Hee.”
Heeseung groaned low, forehead dropping to your shoulder for a second before he forced himself to look up again, as if in pain, “that’s it. Fuck, listen to how messy you sound. You’re dripping down my wrist, baby. Such a good girl for me.”
You bit your lip, eyes fluttering, but he tapped your jaw again.
“Don’t close your eyes. Want you to see how pretty you look when I finger fuck you like this.”
“Bossy tonight,” you teased breathlessly, even as your thighs started trembling, “I like it, but you’re gonna make me cum already if you keep rubbing my clit like that.”
“Good,” he rasped, thumb circling faster, fingers curling relentlessly, “cum for me. Right now. Let me see it.”
You moaned his name loud, walls fluttering and clenching around his fingers as you came, slick coating his hand. Heeseung kept working you through it, slower but deep, murmuring against your neck, “that’s my girl—fuck, you’re so pretty when you cum. Look at you shaking for me.”
He pulled his fingers out slowly, then brought them to your lips.
“Taste yourself, baby, hm? C’mon, open up.”
You sucked them clean, eyes never leaving his in the reflection, and he cursed under his breath the second your tongue swirled around his fingers.
“Fuck—you’re gonna kill me.”
Before you could catch your breath he dropped to his knees behind you, hands gripping your hips and yanking you back so your ass arched toward his face.
“Keep watching the mirror,” he said, voice hoarse with need, “I want you to see me eat this pussy like I’ve been starving for it.”
Then his mouth was on you, as filthy as he could manage. His tongue dragged slow and broad from your clit all the way up, and you moaned loud, hands sliding down the glass.
“Oh my god, Hee—”
“Mhm, fuck, you taste even better after you come,” he groaned against you, the vibration making your legs weak, “spread your legs a little wider for me, baby. Let me get deeper.”
You did, pushing back against his face. His tongue fucked into you while his nose nudged your clit, then he sucked your swollen clit into his mouth hard.
“Yes—right there, don’t stop,” you panted, “your tongue feels so fucking good, baby, keep sucking like that.”
Heeseung moaned into your pussy, one hand reaching around to rub your clit while the other spread you open wider, “tell me how much you like it,” he mumbled between licks, voice desperate, “tell me you love my mouth on you.”
“I love it—fuck, I love your mouth, Hee. You’re so good at this—shit, I’m gonna cum again if you keep going like that.”
He sucked harder, tongue flicking fast, fingers joining to curl inside you, “then let go again, right on my tongue. I want to feel you fall apart while you watch yourself in the mirror.”
Your second orgasm crashed over you even harder, a high pitched moan leaving your mouth, almost as if you were chanting his name like a mantra, thighs shaking violently as you came on his tongue, and Heeseung licked you through every pulse, slow and greedy, humming happily like he couldn’t get enough.
You were still trembling when he finally pulled away, breathing hard against the inside of your thigh. His eyes met yours in the mirror for a second, looking all desperate, almost frantic before he stood up and turned you around. His hands were shaking as they gripped your waist.
“Come here,” he said, voice rough, like the words were being dragged out of him. He kissed you immediately, with the need to taste the way you’d just fallen apart for him, “bed. I need you on the bed right now.”
You nodded, legs still unsteady, and he didn’t wait. He lifted you, your back hitting the mattress a second later. He climbed over you fast, knees bracketing your hips, but instead of diving right in he paused, hovering above you, chest heaving. His eyes were wide, pupils blown, and for a split second you saw the soft Heeseung underneath all that intensity—the one who always checked on you, the one who was terrified of messing this up.
“You really want this?” He asked, voice cracking a little even though he was trying to sound sure. His hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing your skin like he couldn’t stop himself, “all the way, me inside you. Tell me you want it, baby, please.”
“I want it,” you whispered, reaching up to pull him closer by his chain, “I want you, Hee. Stop holding back.”
He let out a shaky breath and nodded, like he was steeling himself. He shoved the rest of his clothes off as you watched the pretty boy in front of you. It was clear how he wanted to prove a point, and you were gonna let him, granted he wasn’t in the mood to talk, his faint muscles flexing was distracting you as well, but yeah, you were letting him take control.
He gripped your thighs and spread you open wider, breathing hard as he tried not to stare to the point he starts drooling because, lord, you looked absolutely stunning all spread out on his bed, looking up at him with need, bottom lip bitten. He lined up, the blunt head of his cock pressing right against your entrance, and for a second he just stayed there, breathing hard, eyes flicking up to yours like he was still fighting whatever storm was in his head.
“Tell me again,” he said, “tell me you want this.”
“I want this,” you breathed, pulling him down into a messy kiss, tongues sliding deep right away, “I want you inside me, Hee. Stop thinking and just take me.”
He groaned into your mouth and pushed forward.
The first inch stretched you open, slow and thick. You both gasped against each other’s lips.
“Fuck—you’re so tight,” he muttered, forehead pressed to yours, hips trembling as he held still, “just the tip and you’re already gripping me like that. You okay?”
You nodded quickly, nails dragging lightly down his back, “keep going, I can take more.”
He kissed you again, deeper this time, almost desperate, and rolled his hips forward on the second thrust as another inch sank in. The burn was sharp but so fucking good your back arched.
“Shit—baby,” he groaned, voice cracking. He sucked a hard mark right under your jaw, teeth grazing your skin as he pushed in a third time, slower, letting you adjust, “you feel—gosh, you feel unreal, i’m trying not to lose it already.”
Your nails dug in harder, scratching down his shoulder blades as he gave one more careful thrust and finally bottomed out, hips flush against yours. The full stretch made you moan loud into his mouth, legs tightening around his waist.
Heeseung stilled completely, breathing ragged against your neck, trying not to whimper, “talk to me. Does it hurt? Tell me the truth.”
“A little,” you whispered, “but I love it. You feel so deep already. Move, baby, I need you to move.”
He started with slow, deep rolls of his hips, grinding against you on every stroke like he was still trying to stay in control. But you could feel the tension building in his body, the way his fingers dug into your thighs a little harder each time.
“Yeah? Like this?” He asked, voice rougher now as he snapped his hips forward a little sharper, “you want me to fuck you harder?”
“Harder,” you moaned, nails raking down his back again, leaving red lines, “don’t be gentle tonight. I want all of it.”
He dropped his head to your neck and bit down hard, sucking yet another dark mark into your skin as his hips suddenly slammed forward. The thrusts turned brutal, the bed creaking loudly under you. His chain slapped against your chest with every snap of his hips. He was fucking you like he’d been holding back for months—desperate, almost punishing strokes that knocked the breath out of you.
“Fuck—fuck, baby,” he groaned against your throat, voice completely wrecked, “you’re taking me so fucking good. This pussy is mine tonight. Mine.”
You cried out and he kissed you again, tongues sliding messily while he pounded into you without any rhythm left. His hips stuttered, slamming harder, faster, completely mindless now, like every doubt in his head was being fucked out with every brutal thrust.
“Shit—I can’t—can’t slow down,” he panted, “you feel too good, gonna fuck you until you can’t walk tomorrow.”
He was gone—eyes hazy, sweat dripping down his chest, hips snapping wildly as he lost himself inside you, chasing that raw, desperate need to prove he could be everything he thought you wanted. His chain bounced wildly against your chest, his fingers digging bruises into your thigh like he needed something to hold onto.
You were right there with him, body tightening, moans spilling out against his mouth, when the intensity tipped over into something too much, too fast. Your hand shot back, fingers digging into his hip.
“Heeseung—stop. Stop for a second.”
He froze mid-thrust, buried to the hilt, every muscle locking up at once. His breath hitched hard against your neck. For a long second the room was just the sound of both of you breathing, ragged and uneven. You could feel the panic crashing over him.
“Fuck—did I hurt you?” His voice cracked, he pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes already glassy with tears that spilled over when he blinked, “shit, I’m so sorry—I got too rough, I didn’t mean to, I was trying so hard not to be soft and I just—fuck, I thought if I fucked you harder you’d want me, you’d stay, I—”
His lip trembled. Another tear slid down his cheek and landed warm on your skin. He looked completely shattered, still deep inside you, like the idea that he might have hurt you was breaking him apart right there.
You cupped his face with both hands, thumbs gently brushing the tears from under his eyes, “baby, shh. You didn’t hurt me,” you whispered, voice soft, full of warmth, “not even a little. I promise. You feel so good, Hee. C’mon breathe with me, okay?”
He stared at you, eyes wide and wet, lips pressed tight together like he was trying not to fall apart completely. He gave the smallest shake of his head, refusing to speak at first.
You leaned up and kissed him, just a gentle press of your lips until he softened into it, a shaky little exhale leaving him. When you pulled back you kept your forehead against his, thumbs still stroking his cheeks.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper, “I can feel it, baby. Something’s been eating at you. Please talk to me.”
Heeseung swallowed hard, eyes fluttering shut for a second as another tear slipped free. His voice came out small, cracked, almost ashamed.
“Jaemin cornered me after class,” he whispered, “uh—he said I’m too soft, fucking whipped. That I’m just a pathetic rebound and you’d get bored of me in a week because someone like me could never keep a girl like you. Said you need someone who can actually fuck you right, not some gentle loser,” his breath hitched, “I just—I didn’t want to be that guy anymore. I wanted to prove I could be what you need, I know this isn’t what you wanted, our whole FWB thing.”
You stayed right there, forehead pressed to his, thumbs still gently wiping his tears as you looked at him with nothing but softness in your eyes, heart hurting at how the guy who makes you the happiest was reduced to some loser by your pathetic excuse of an ex.
“I like you exactly how you are,” you let out, heat creeping up your neck, the position only making you feel more with his cock still buried deep in you.
“Y—you like me?” He gasped as you licked his tear away, “really?”
“I do, Hee. I forgot about the whole no strings arrangement long back, I found myself wanting to spend more time with you, and who am I to deprive myself of happiness?” You chuckled, “you can’t force your feelings to go away, or change yourself, y’know? Fuck Jaemin, he doesn’t know shit, he could never make me cum and he definitely could never make me feel the way you do.”
Heeseung let out a shaky, broken exhale, his forehead still resting against yours as fresh tears welled up, “I thought—I thought I was ruining everything. I was so scared you’d realize I’m just the rebound, and you’d leave. I didn’t want to lose you, so I tried to be someone else tonight. I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”
You shook your head, “you didn’t ruin anything, Hee, not even close. You could never ruin this. I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere, I don’t mind you being rough or soft, yeah?”
He swallowed hard, “I don’t want to be rough, I never really did. I just, I thought that’s what you needed from me. But I want to be soft with you, can I—can I do that? Please?”
You couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped you, the sound made his lips twitch, and then he was smiling—small, shy, and so genuinely relieved it made your heart squeeze. He immediately hid his face in the crook of your neck, embarrassed, his breath warm against your skin as he let out a quiet, shy laugh of his own.
“Stop laughing at me,” he mumbled into your neck, but you could hear the smile in his voice, the way his shoulders relaxed.
“I’m not laughing at you,” you whispered, still chuckling as you threaded your fingers through his hair, “I’m laughing because you’re adorable, and I like you like this. Exactly like this.”
Heeseung lifted his head just enough to look at you again, eyes still glassy but now shining with something brighter as he managed another kiss, pouring every unsaid feeling into it. When he pulled back, his voice was soft.
“I love you,” he breathed out, “I’m so in love with you. I don’t want no-strings, I want everything. Mornings where I wake up and you’re stealing my hoodie. Nights where we fall asleep tangled up like this, and I want all of it with you.”
You smiled against his lips, heart so full it felt like it might burst, “I’m falling in love with you too, Hee, I want all of that with you too.”
He whined, kissing you all clumsy, rolling his hips in long, loving strokes that made you feel every inch of him. The pace was unhurried, like he wanted to savor every second.
“Feel that?” He whispered, forehead pressed to yours, eyes locked on you, “I love being inside you like this. I love feeling you around me—so warm, so perfect.”
You moaned softly, legs wrapping tighter around him as you rocked up to meet his slow thrusts, “you feel so good, baby.”
Heeseung smiled again with a giggle, hiding his face in your neck for a moment before kissing along your throat, “you’re so beautiful,” he murmured between kisses, “the way you look when I’m inside you, the little sounds you make, I could stay like this for hours. Just loving you, just making you feel good.”
His hand found yours, lacing your fingers together and pinning it gently above your head while the other slid down to cup your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple in slow, tender circles. Every thrust was accompanied by quiet words—I love you, you feel incredible, never letting you go, whispered against your skin like prayers.
You squeezed his hand, “I love how you make me feel safe, don’t ever change, okay?”
“I won’t, I promise, i just want to make you feel loved. Every single day.”
The room filled with nothing but the soft creak of the bed, your quiet moans, and his gentle praises. He kept the pace slow and deep, grinding against you on every thrust so your clit rubbed perfectly against him. His lips never left your skin—kissing your neck, your jaw, your mouth, your collarbone like he couldn’t bear to stop touching you.
“You’re everything to me,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion as he rolled his hips again, “I’m so lucky you’re mine. So fucking lucky.”
“I’m the lucky one, baby. Now keep loving me just like this, I never want this to end.”
Heeseung smiled against your mouth, eyes shining with pure adoration, and did exactly that—loving you slow, deep, and full of so much tenderness it felt like the rest of the world had disappeared.
Just the two of you, and the moonlight in the room.
MEANWHILE:
You shushed Heeseung for the nth time as he smiled against your palm, but you were serious, peering down the hallway from the narrow alcove where you’d both hidden behind a pillar.
“Stop smiling, you’re going to get us caught,” you whispered, though your own grin was fighting to break free.
Heeseung only chuckled quietly, pressing a soft kiss to your wrist, “can’t help it. You look so adorable trying to be all serious.”
You rolled your eyes, but your heart felt warm as his arms stayed wrapped around your waist from behind, chin resting on your shoulder.
The classroom door finally swung open. Students spilled out, and then Jaemin stepped into the hallway, laughing loudly with his friends.
The second you saw him, you stepped out without hesitation, you lifted the chilled cup and poured the entire icy matcha straight over his head from the first floor, the aim being too good to your surprise.
Jaemin gasped, stumbling back as green liquid drenched his hair and hoodie, “what the fuck—”
Loud laughter exploded from the crowd around him. Phones came out instantly, people whistling and clapping, and you didn’t stay to admire your work.
You grabbed Heeseung’s hand and ran, both of you sprinting down the side hallway until you ducked into an empty stairwell, breathless and laughing.
“Oh my god, his face,” you wheezed, back pressed against the wall.
Heeseung leaned over you, one hand beside your head, smiling so beautifully it made your knees weak—eyes crinkled, full of pure adoration and joy.
“You’re insane, taking revenge for me again,” he said softly, “and I’m so in love with you.”
You reached up, cupping his cheek. He leaned in and kissed you sweetly, so full of everything you two had become. When he pulled back, forehead resting against yours, he was still smiling that same breathtaking smile.
“I love you,” he whispered.
You kissed the corner of his mouth, grinning, and you did mean it with your whole heart as you proceeded to say.
Todos os dias, em todos eles sinto sua falta... tem sido tão difícil, já passei por diversas fases da minha vida e essa com certeza foi a pior.
Não tem como pedir para você voltar... queria acreditar, mas parece que o engene vem desistindo aos poucos, e nem faz tanto tempo. o fandom se encontra dividido, uns continuam esperando por ti, outros já aceitaram o destino.
E eu? eu não sei, me sinto dividida, nunca fui uma pessoa que tenha opinião sobre alguma coisa, sempre sigo com opiniões alheias, mas nesse caso... nesse momento... apenas não quero seguir nenhuma.
Só quero ficar quieta, não me expressar, ficar aqui sofrendo da maneira menos cruel possível, com meus pensamentos, com meu pessimismo me dominando aos poucos.
Contudo, sempre amarei o Enhypen, te levarei comigo para onde quer que eu for, como meu grupo conforto, mesmo com poucas memórias.
Seguirei te apoiando, evan ou heeseung, ambos são uma única pessoa mas em momentos diferentes, e mesmo não entendendo perfeitamente como tudo chegou até aqui, continuarei lutando em silêncio para que algum dia todos nós possamos nos encontrar juntos novamente, por que o Enhypen is forever.
SUMMARY: Ever since your boyfriend Jake transformed from his nerdy high-school self into the university's star football player, you've become everything you thought you’d never be. Jealous. Anxious. Clingy. But Jake really doesn't mind your newfound possessiveness. He encourages it, even. So when he defies expectations again to star in a musical with a stunning costar, you spiral. Now, the “lowkey” relationship you once insisted on gets jeopardized under the weight of your own insecurities.
PAIRING: popular!jake x fem!reader
WORD COUNT: 26k+
GENRE: secret!relationship au, university!au, grumpy gf x sunshine bf (?), smut, angst, fluff, some toxic themes
WARNINGS: mdni, nsfw, porn with plot, tsundere!reader, lowkey crazy!reader, whipped!Jake, lowkey masochist!bf Jake, switch!Jake, emotional constipation, he want that cookie bad, jealousy, avoidancy, football = soccer, unsafe/unprotected sex, cursing, sweat, dacryphilia, storage closet sex, lots of biting/marking, 69, cumplay, jewelry play, begging, failed pull-out method, creampie, squirting, lmk if i missed anything
A/N: Not to pick a favorite child but… I loved writing this fic so much.
a year ago.
It’s the last year of high school, on a relatively normal walk back home. The same cracked sidewalks, the same autumn breeze, the same shy boy matching his steps beside you like he always did. Just like any other day.
Until he decided to ruin it.
“Do you wanna… like, date?” Jake asked suddenly, hands shoved deep into his uniform pants pockets, trying too hard to sound nonchalant. “You know… put a label on us. Or whatever.”
You remember almost running away out of pure instinct, soul escaping your body. But instead, you laughed. Because what the fuck was he on about?
You? Jake? Date?
The two of you were barely even supposed to be friends. He's a straight-A student teachers constantly compared you to, with those thick-rimmed black glasses glued to his face and unkempt bowl of hair. A striker on the football team who watched matches from the sidelines just as much as you did… and you weren't on the team.
And on the other hand, there’s you. Not-so-pleasant you. Considered a troublemaker because you always showed up late to class, talked back to ill-meaning adults, and picked fights with boys who catcalled too much. A rumor spread through school that your dad was a terrifying loan shark with gang ties. He’s a banker.
Assigned classroom cleaning duties was what brought you two together in the first place. It wasn’t fate. Nothing notable. You more or less picked him up on your shoulder and claimed him as a personal assistant. Someone who would fetch you water when you’re thirsty or give you answers to math problems when you were too lazy to solve them yourself.
So why in the world did he think you two should date?
“Who put you up to this?” you wheezed between bursts of cackling. “I’m gonna beat their ass.”
Jake scratched the back of his head, clearly not amused.
“I mean… You and me?” you continued, tears of laughter blurred your vision. “We would make the worst couple ever—”
“I don’t think so.”
You froze mid-step. Jake had slowed his strides down a long time ago, but now he was completely still. You turned to find him a few steps behind, face flushed and hands by his sides.
He’s holding something. A small, turquoise box. One that looked suspiciously like…
You felt like throwing up.
“I-I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” he stammered. “What it’d be like if I were your boyfriend. If we… went on dates and stuff.”
Oh, hell no.
It’s like an immediate sense of panic overcame your body. And before your brain could process a single rational thought, you broke out into a sprint. Running down the street like a maniac. In hindsight, you probably should’ve known that you couldn’t outrun an athlete. But you weren’t really thinking, period.
You feel a tug on your waist. Jake had already caught up to you. He spun you around, like the male leads do in those stupid romcoms, and pulled you into him. His face was close. Too close. His glasses slipped halfway down his nose, and a bead of sweat clung to his temple. And it wasn’t from running.
It was from you.
He looked nervous. Ridiculously nervous.
The ring box pressed into your back, and you put your palms sternly against his chest, trying to create some distance between you two. It wasn’t helping.
“Jake,” you warned. “Let go of me or I scream.”
He shook his head, his arms only wrapped tighter around you. “Only if you promise you won’t run,” he replied, a sort of desperation laced in his voice. “And that you’ll listen to what I have to say.”
You bit your bottom lip, suddenly too aware of his intense gaze and how they searched yours through those big, fat lenses. You gave a small nod, not trusting your voice to come out right. The moment his grip loosened, you broke your agreement almost immediately. Your feet moved on their own, like fight-or-flight, as you tried to rush out of his arms. But he was one step ahead of you, grabbing your wrist to bring you back right where you were.
“Really?” he asked, exhausted. “That’s not gonna work a second time.”
You glared, but your eyes betrayed you. They slid down to the turquoise ring box, still in his hand. Jake's eyes flickered in the same direction, clearing his throat awkwardly.
“I can put it away if it’s freaking you out,” he muttered, slipping it back into his pocket. You almost let out a sigh of relief, but not when his large hand was still wrapped around your wrist.
“...Thank you,” you mumbled, eyes fixed on the ground. “Now make it quick.”
Jake's heart constricted. ‘The worst thing she could say is no!’ the internet had told him. This was a lot worse, actually!
“[Y/N],” he started sharply, and the sound of your name on his lips sent shivers down your spine. He released you, only to set both his hands on your shoulders, guiding your gaze up to meet his.
“I… I think—” He stopped, inhaling a deep breath. “No. I know. I… really… really… l-like you.”
His voice was as shaky as his hands, and for a brief second, almost every part of you wanted to knock him out with your backpack because your heart was beating too loud in your chest. It pissed you off. But you held back and just… stared.
Jake, ever the hopeless romantic, had fallen for you the moment you asked him to clean the entire classroom alone while you skipped duties to hang out with your friends. He said yes, only because he has a hard time saying no, especially to someone he found so pretty. But then you laughed and told him you were joking. Told him not to bend over backwards just to please other people. Spent time with him that day when usually, others paid him no attention.
He was enamored ever since.
But the silence between you two was suffocating, heavy enough to stall his breathing. Jake’s palms were growing damp against the fabric of your uniform blazer, and his heart felt like it was ready to fall to the floor. Maybe this was a bad time to do it. Or maybe the ring really freaked you out. Was it too big a gesture? The WikiHow tutorial he consulted had told him to bring a gift, after all.
“Hello?” Jake’s voice cut through your thoughts. He gave your shoulders a tiny shake, trying to pull you out of your entranced state.
“Hm? Sorry… say that again? I don’t think I heard you…”
Jake’s expression fell as he dropped his hands back to his sides in defeat.
“Okay,” he muttered, voice small. It wasn’t worth it. Everything went off script anyway. “Never mind. Pretend I didn’t say anything.”
He brushed past you, shoulders hunched, hands shoved deep in his pockets again. He was fidgeting with the ring box, wishing he could throw it into the nearest bushes. God, he felt dumb. So fucking dumb.
Of course you’d say no! He was nobody. Just Jake. Just some guy you latched onto at the start of high school so you could poke fun at him for the next few years and make him pay for your boba addiction. And you, with your cool-ass friends with eyebrow slits and really underground music tastes. You’re way out of his league—
“Jake,” you called out, surprised at how loud your voice could get if you were desperate.
He turned around immediately, wearing such a pronounced pout even from a few meters away. Somehow, seeing his face again made your throat close up. He liked you. He really liked you.
“Say it again,” you demanded, arms crossed with doubt written all over your features. “I need to hear you say it one more time.”
You walked toward him until you stood close enough to see the nervous twitch at the corner of his mouth. Was this it? Would you actually give him a chance? Jake pressed his lips together and inhaled a deep breath to calm himself.
“I like you,” he said as softly as a whisper. “Would you… Be my girlfriend?”
You looked at the ground, feigning a calmness when your mind was racing with thoughts too insane to vocalize. When you finally looked up again, your heart betrayed you. It skipped a beat at the way his gaze fell on yours, wide and hopeful. It almost hurt. He was too bright, too cute.
(Okay, so what if you liked him back. He didn’t have to know that.)
“Sure,” you said, forcing your voice to sound casual. Jake froze.
Then his entire face lit up. Suddenly, he was grinning from ear to ear, jumping in place like a dog begging for a treat. “Really? Like really? You’ll go out with me?!”
He took your hands in his, tenderly. Like he wasn't entirely sure the moment was real. You felt the dampness of his palms first, then the tug of his fingers intertwining with yours, like he had already rehearsed this part of his confession a thousand times in his head. Your cheeks warmed.
‘What a weirdo,’ you thought to yourself. It’s not like he’d just won the lottery. What was he so happy about?
“Just don’t make it weird,” you grumbled. “Keep it on the down low.”
Jake’s smile faltered, brows knitting together so tightly you were sure it’d leave a wrinkle on his cute face.
“Like… you don’t want people to know?” he asked, voice quieter now. You nodded, confused by his confusion.
“Why would anyone need to know?” you asked genuinely. He frowned, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand, silently asking you to reconsider.
“Not even Sunghoon or Jay?”
You scoffed. “Especially Sunghoon and Jay.”
“Why not?” he groaned. You just shrugged.
“I don’t want our dynamic to change just ‘cause we’re dating,” you reassured him, letting go of his hands to ruffle his hair. Like you always do when you tease him. Like that would make it all better. “And all that coupley PDA stuff draws too much attention anyway.”
You’d spent years cultivating your intimidating persona, and in your mind, it was simple. No one else needed to know that you were vulnerable to something as cringe-inducing as dating. The other students would only use it against you. For what? Who knows.
But you could just imagine the teasing glances and whispers in the hallways. If Jake were really serious about dating you, surely he’d be understanding of your aversion towards embarrassment. Right?
He didn't seem entirely convinced. At all. “So… what would be the difference then? Between us now and before?”
You sighed and stepped past him.
“It's what we'd do in private, you know?” you muttered over your shoulder. “Kissing and all that…”
You didn’t see it, how Jake’s ears completely reddened or how his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. His fingers twitched at his side, like he was already imagining what it’d be like to hold you properly. To touch you. To kiss you. Like real couples do.
“D-do you want to see the ring I got you?” he blurted out, catching up to you. “I swear it’s lowkey. It has a ‘J’ engraved inside the band. I got a matching one with your initial, too! No one would even notice if you wore it—”
And you feel your heart thunder in your chest, scaring you into another sudden sprint. “Get the hell away from me, weirdo!”
Your joined laughter echoed down the street as he chased after you. And even though he could catch up to you, he let you have your fun, staying just a little out of his reach.
–
Jake is very good at obeying orders, always has been. Especially after the first few times you glared at him for accidentally reaching for your hand in the cafeteria. He learned fast.
He tried his best not to show affection publicly, no matter how badly he wanted to wrap his blazer around your shivering frame when you would nap during class. He forced himself not to linger near you when you were loitering with your fellow delinquents by the school staircase, laughing at a joke he didn’t quite understand. He suppressed the urge to defend you from teachers who reprimanded you out in the hallways. Tried not to look behind at you for too long during football games he never played in anyway.
Once, someone asked him about his love life, and he instantly turned into a blushing, mumbling mess. And they laughed it off. It was Jake. No one thought twice. He was always like this. Awkward. Flustered.
The parasites he calls friends, Jay and Sunghoon, would probably go into cardiac arrest if they ever found out how he doted on you in private. How soft he was. How gentle.
You pretended not to notice. But ever the observer, Jake sees how your defenses weaken, ever so slightly, each day.
You let him put his arm around you in dark movie theaters instead of yanking it away. Let him stay for dinner with your parents when he comes over to help you study (because lord knows you need it). You stopped flinching when he called you ‘babe’ in private, sometimes responding without even questioning who he was speaking to. It was baby steps, but to Jake, it was everything.
Was it awkward? Yes. The way his glasses got in the way when he finally kissed you for the first time. Your noses bumped together. Too much tongue involved. It was a mess. Still life-changing, nevertheless.
He replays the memory often. The two of you on your bed, him holding your plushie hostage, you trying to rip it out of his arms. The way you fell on top of him with your lips accidentally crashing on his. He pretended like the make-out session that occurred immediately after didn't absolutely ruin him.
Jake edged past the warmer parts of you when no one was around to bear witness. And you both were so good at keeping secrets. No one would have believed it anyway. You’d made sure of that.
–
“You two are very strange,” Jay commented, maybe a couple of months into your secret relationship. Every senior was gearing up for graduation, choosing which universities to attend or which path to take in life.
And of course, Jay and Sunghoon found out that Jake and you would both be attending the same university. Not just any school. A top one. Yonsei.
Jake had earned a full-ride scholarship after finally getting off the damn bench and scoring four goals in a single match against the best high school team in the nation. Jake could've gone abroad to an Ivy League, but he chose not to. Because at Yonsei he could visit family more often, save a lot of money, and… well, keep you close, most of all.
And by the will of a higher being (Jake’s relentless tutoring), you somehow made it in as well.
“I thought you said you wanted to go straight into the workforce,” Jay questioned you. “Now you’re telling me you somehow, in some way, got into the same school as Jake? This fucking nerd?”
Sunghoon chimed in with a smile he always wore before teasing you. “I didn’t even think you could get into college, honestly.”
You wanted to hit him so bad, but you stopped yourself. Your resolution for the new school year was to turn over a new leaf. And that comes with not hitting annoying boys over the head with your fist. You could get arrested for that from now on... So instead, you used your words.
“You’re mad I got in, and you didn’t,” you snorted, sticking out your tongue as Jake snickered beside you. You sat close enough to feel the warmth of his shoulder, but far enough apart to keep Jay and Sunghoon from noticing.
“You guys have no faith in her,” Jake sighed earnestly. “She’s really smart when she applies herself. She just needed a push, that's all.”
You glared at him, not sure if his comment was entirely a compliment. Yes, he played a role in your achievements. No, he could not credit himself for the hard work you put in to get that high-ass score on the college entrance exam. Even your teachers apologized for doubting you.
“Should’ve put those hours of tutoring her into me instead,” Jay groaned. “Now you’re gonna be all alone with no friends.”
Jake’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean? S-she’s my friend.”
He stumbled over the words, clearly thrown off by the ominous comment. You watched him, amused. God, he was so obvious.
Sunghoon just looked between you two, doubt etched all over his face. “Barely,” he scoffed. “Trust me, bro, you are getting left behind as soon as she finds another victim willing to pay for all her food.”
You can start your resolution next week. This time, you really smacked him, sharp on his bicep. Sunghoon yelped.
“Why are you always so aggressive?” he whined, rubbing the sore spot with his arm. You raised your hand threateningly again, but you stopped yourself short.
At the corner of your eye was Jake’s soured expression, a flash of worry obviously overcoming him. But you couldn’t comfort him. Not now. You wouldn’t hear the end of it from these two.
“You never know,” Jay chirped, faking thoughtfulness with a hand on his chin. “Jake might be too cool for us once school starts.”
Jay and Sunghoon exchanged a look and then burst into laughter.
“Ain’t gonna happen!” Sunghoon cackled, putting his whole gut into it. You joined in hesitantly, though your eyes kept drifting to your sullen boyfriend. And he wasn’t amused. Not at all.
Because he never found it funny, the idea of you leaving him behind.
–
“Do you think I’m weird?” Jake asked one evening, with you curled up beside him on your bed. Your knee draped over his stomach, his glasses pushed up just enough to rest comfortably against your pillow. On his late-night visits, your parents would come in to check if you two were truly studying as you claimed. After Jake gained their trust, they learned to leave the two of you alone (when they probably shouldn’t have).
Your eyes were shut tight to prepare yourself for an oncoming nap.
“Yes,” you said quickly, not even giving him time to process the response.
“Like… bad weird?” he asked after a second. He’d been thinking lately, after the conversation with his friends, how different the two of you really were.
How easy it was for you to stand up for yourself. Go against the grain. How you don’t automatically default to nods as he does or lose your train of thought mid-conversation. How you hated being touched by most people but would smack someone’s shoulder when you genuinely found something funny.
He wanted that, wanted to see the world the way you saw it. To move around without hesitation. Even when people called you a troublemaker. Even when teachers scolded you for wearing your uniform skirt shorter than the dress code. How was confidence so natural for you?
“Bad weird,” you teased, eyes still closed. “But it’s okay. I’m used to it by now.”
A small ache tugged at his heart. “You still like me though, right?”
You laughed. Jake loved to do this sometimes. Bait for reassurance. But you’re not that kind of fish.
“Who said I ever did?”
You said it jokingly, but a silence followed. You don’t quite catch it as you drift to sleep, the way Jake’s eyes dimmed.
“Oh,” he said disappointingly, staring at the ceiling.
Sometimes, he wondered if the reason you wanted your relationship to be private in the first place was because of him. If his inability to relate to your friends with secret tattoos and chains on their jeans made you embarrassed to be his girlfriend.
Because you got along well with his friends just fine, could tease Jay and Sunghoon like you’d known them your whole life. But it was so hard for him to do the same with yours. To look natural when he joined that one karaoke hangout, where they looked at him expectantly because you had bragged that he could sing well.
You said it so proudly too, and he wanted to prove himself to them. That he was worthy to be in their presence. And then his voice had to crack.
“Should we get your friend some water?” someone joked, and the whole group laughed. With his cheeks red with embarrassment, Jake sat back down next to you, silent for the rest of the night. It was lame of him. Even he knew that.
But even as he watched you defend him with all your heart, he couldn’t find himself to cheer up. Because in your world, he had always felt out of place.
–
And so Jake did what he’s known to do best. Research.
He avoided WikiHow tutorials on how to ask out a girl and headed straight to the most honest part of the internet: Reddit.
‘makeover tips for guys’
‘how to gain more confidence’
‘how to be attractive enough that your girlfriend isn’t ashamed of you (serious responses only pls)’
He frequented the self-help section of the school library, took notes on everything from fashion advice to fixing his posture. He practiced eye contact with himself through the mirror until they watered, joined Sunghoon in the gym, and copied his weirdly intense routine.
Jake kept this process all to himself, much like your relationship. He learned to be good at that. Keeping secrets.
He would reinvent himself for university. Become someone you’d be proud to show off because he didn’t want to feel like this anymore. Like he would fall behind. And knowing you… he wasn’t sure if you’d bother to look back and see if your loyal puppy was still there trailing behind you.
–
present.
So that’s how your relationship’s been going so far. While Jake was on this great journey to undergo metamorphosis, there were no real complaints on your side.
So why was it like this now?
Waiting for your very late boyfriend, who was making you miss the first minutes of the university’s freshman orientation ceremony. You almost text him a paragraph about how, usually, you're the unpunctual one in the relationship, but a stranger approaches you.
“BOO!”
You almost let out a scream when you notice who it is. Or who you think it is. Is it who you think it is?
Because instead of wild, unruly hair hiding his eyebrows and big black frames resting on his nose bridge, your boyfriend looked like someone else entirely. His hair was styled in a middle part, framing his handsome features perfectly. Instead of his usual oversized hoodie with holes on the sleeves masking his athletic body, he’s wearing a varsity jacket and a simple white shirt that clung way too well to his muscular frame. You could even see the faint outline of contact lenses in the whites of his eyes.
Your eyelashes flutter in confusion. You literally just saw him yesterday. When did he find the time to get a haircut and invest in a new closet?
Jake steps forward with a small, hopeful smile and holds out a box of egg tarts. Did it add to his already late ETA? Yes, but he always thinks about you and what you'd like to eat. Could you blame him for getting you a sweet treat?
But that wasn’t the part you were really focused on.
“Who are you and what did you do to Jake?” you ask, fists raised like a boxer. He chuckles nervously, bringing the pastry box back to his side.
“Do I look weird?” he asks quietly, shifting his feet. The vulnerability in his voice made you lower your hands instantly.
“So…” you start, eyes looking him up and down. “This is on purpose? Like, Sunghoon didn’t put you up to this? Or Jay?”
He pouts. His mom practically screamed, “So handsome!” when he showed her his new look over video call. So, why was your reaction like this?
“I just thought… new school year, new me! No?” he says, puffing up with pride.
You shake your head, moving your hand on instinct to ruffle his freshly styled hair. But he catches your wrist before you can touch him. You pull away, heart squeezing a bit, knowing that he dodged one of your rare bouts of affection. Or whatever you call it.
“It took me forever to get my hair to look like this,” he mutters, looking away. “Don’t want my hard work to go to waste.”
You click your tongue, trudging past him. Since when did he care about what his hair looked like? This was the same guy who showed up to graduation with a T-shirt and sneakers and got confused when the teachers asked him to go back home and change.
“Whatever,” you sigh. “No more standing around. We have to go—”
“Still not wearing the ring?” he asks, catching up to you. He noticed it earlier when he caught your arm.
When Jake gave it to you just a year before, he set no expectation for you to wear it. He really hadn’t… But it has been a year. Wasn’t it about time? He wears his everyday…
You suck in your teeth and glare at him. “Why would I?”
He flinches. And you start to feel guilt bubbling in your chest as his steps start slowing next to you.
“It’s just…” he mumbles. “It’s not like we’re in high school anymore. No one’s even gonna notice. And no one’s gonna care if we’re dating.”
You roll your eyes. You care. You still had a reputation to uphold. Maybe not as a troublemaker anymore. But still. Something about wearing your boyfriend’s ring for everyone to see and question seemed like your own personal hell. Who would want to be the center of attention as a university freshman?
“It’s the principle,” you say, not really knowing what you mean by it either. Because you are wearing it. Just not on your finger. It hangs around your neck, hidden underneath your blouse. But Jake didn’t have to know that.
You would rather die than give anyone the satisfaction of knowing you were smitten with this man. Soft, but only for him. Your biggest weakness.
“So are we always just gonna be a secret?” he sighs. You turn to face him, but you keep it pushing. It’s too much to explain right now. Or ever.
“Come on,” you insist. “We need to get to the orientation.”
–
Indeed, it wasn’t high school anymore. Because everywhere you turn, Jake’s name is being brought up.
“The hot guy on the football team—”
“He set the curve on the first exam and proved Professor Kim wrong on the board—”
“I saw him help a grandma cross the street. Soooo dreamy—”
It was enough to almost make you pull your hair out of your head. This was Jake they were talking about! The guy who was too shy to ask for no pickles in his damn burgers, who used to let Sunghoon copy off his homework and then rewrote his own just to make sure the teachers wouldn’t catch on. This was your Jake.
You take a moment to breathe.
You sound crazy. Deranged, even. It shouldn’t even matter. Jake was always good-looking! People just never noticed or took the time to appreciate him outside of his ability to decode the most difficult of physics equations.
“A couple of guys from the team think I’d look good with a sweatband,” he says, showing you a photo during a late-night walk. He’s shoving his phone screen to your face, and you pout at the sight. His hair pushed back, forehead glistening. A perfect view of his beautiful, dark eyes.
“Nah,” you say dismissively, trying to push down the fluttering in your heart. He tilts his head, staring at the photo once more.
“Really?” he mutters. “I thought it looked pretty good.”
“Do you really wanna look like Jay in junior year? He’s gonna tell you that you copied him.”
He gives a small sound of acknowledgement. You could tell he’s taking your comment seriously, like you said something truly eye-opening.
“You’re right,” he nods. “Then, how do you feel about a lip piercing?”
Your brows furrow at the thought of metal against his pouty lips. The way his teeth would tug on it. The effect he would have on all of his newfound admirers…
“Absolutely not!”
Yeah, you were losing it.
–
No, really, you might actually be going insane.
It was hard enough for you to create genuine friendships at Yonsei, full of stuck-up rich kids who only managed to get in through elite cram schools and expensive tutors. But after a few polite conversations, their masks fell to show their true intentions. You know now that you are being used as a shortcut to get on Jake’s radar.
Because why do people you’ve never met before suddenly feel comfortable enough to ask you to introduce them to him? Why do they request to follow you on Instagram only so they can find his account more easily? And what pisses you off most—the question they always ask, without fail: “Is he single?”
And you know there's a quick answer you can give. A very simple solution to your eye-twitching problem. Because every time someone high-fives him in the corridors or bats their eyelashes flirtatiously in his direction, you have the overwhelming urge to just pounce on him. To wrap your arms around his middle and never let him leave your sight.
But you can’t. Your pride is too big, your ego too fragile to admit that someone actually managed to slip past the cold exteriors of your heart. So instead, you're waiting impatiently for him to reply to your text.
He's not at practice. He's supposed to be on his way. So where the hell was he?
jake: sorry! study group went for a lil bit longer than I thought. everyone kept asking me for help haha. omw!
And then he sends a photo. It's a group selfie, with him in the middle. Three girls on his right and another two on his left, surrounding him like a piece of meat.
you: dont bother coming. im sick.
With envy, maybe. But you're perfectly healthy.
jake: im sorry babe :( you feeling okay? want me to get you anything from the store?
you: Nah.
You almost scream. There's so much you want to say and admit, but your fingers won’t type any of it. You really don't deserve him. He's so nice, and you're so… Fuck.
Why is it so hard to admit to your own boyfriend that you miss him?!
jake: ok :( I love you!
Your stomach flips.
Haha… You needed professional help. Really.
–
Jake was better at football than the bench in high school ever suggested. Senior hierarchy was everything at Yonsei. A starter as a freshman was practically unheard of before Jake. How he managed to level up from being a designated benchwarmer to being on the field at all times felt like whiplash.
Did he just have this in him this whole time?
I mean, you guess he looked kind of cool out there, all sweaty and serious-looking. Shouting call-outs to his team mid-game. Your legs squirm at the sight. He really needs to put on his damn glasses. (Though knowing you, that might only make things worse.)
You sit there, wearing the university colors of white and blue, holding onto a sign that says “Go Team!”
You would have made something with his name on it, but the thought alone sends shivers down your spine. You could not bear to give the stupid boys beside you the ammo of watching you scream Jake’s name and go crazy over his goals. So instead, you silently watch and admire as he steals the ball yet again.
Jay and Sunghoon, decked out in the rival school’s signature red for no reason whatsoever (they don’t even attend that university either), stood on either side of you with a level of passion you’ve never seen from them before.
“GET HIS ASS!” Jay screams. “Play the mental game! When Player 15 cries, he calls his mom first—”
Player 15 would happen to be Jake.
“The guy with ‘Sim’ in the back of his jersey loves to sing Celine Dion in the shower—”
You groan as heads turn, not enjoying the various glares and snide remarks from your surrounding schoolmates. You still haven't made any substantial friends yet at university. Being associated with these bozos would only make it that much harder. This would be the last time you sneak them into the student section.
“Can you two please sit down?” you mutter. “We’re ahead by like four goals. Psychological warfare is not enough for Jake to lose.”
Sunghoon drops back into his seat with a huff, cracking his neck.
“This won’t do,” he mutters. “Jake’s gonna surpass me in Instagram followers if he wins this.”
Jay chuckles on your left side, still standing and selfishly blocking the view of everyone behind him. “If he wins, you think he’ll invite us to their celebration party after?”
Your brows furrow. “What party?”
Jay finally sits down when the opposing team calls a time-out, one eyebrow raised at your confused expression. “Isn’t that like a thing every school does? First big game of the year, there’s bound to be something.”
Sunghoon nods in agreement. “Yeah, that’s like common knowledge.”
You almost pout before catching yourself. Jake never mentioned anything about a party.
So when the game ended and, of course, Yonsei won, the two boys could not help but ask.
“So there’s a party, right?”
“And you’re taking us?”
Jake looks between the two of them, forehead glistening and hair damp with sweat.
“What party?” he asks, and you smile gingerly. That’s right! You weren’t crazy. He would’ve told you if there was—
“You have to go to the party, Jakey!” a voice chirps from behind you.
You recognize her. The team manager of the football team. Short hair and a cute button nose. Very pretty. Your eyes cut between Jake and her. Wait.
Jakey? Who the hell calls him that?
Jay and Sunghoon give each other some shifty glances and step aside, letting the girl join the conversation. You feel this weird inclination to move closer to Jake, but you suppress the urge.
“Hm?” Jake finally replies, confused more than ever. “No one told me about a party.”
The girl giggles. What even was her name?
“Oh, Jakey! Since you’re a freshman, I’ll give you the rundown.”
She scooches in between you two, pushing you slightly to the side. The boys don’t seem to notice, and you have half your sense not to shove the girl right back.
“Whenever we win,” she starts, “the whole school goes to En Bar nearby and takes it over! Free drinks and everything. You’re our star player, so you definitely can’t miss it. Your friends are invited too, of course.”
She looks between Jay and Sunghoon, not even sparing you a glance.
Jake scratches the nape of his neck. “Sorry, I’m actually feeling pretty tired—”
“We’ll be there!” Jay and Sunghoon say instantly. You raise your eyebrow at them, and the two brush it off.
“We’ll make sure he comes,” Jay laughs, slapping Jake hard on the shoulder. Having gotten hit by the ball in that exact spot just an hour before, he winces.
“I’m not really—”
“Great!” the girl smiles, clapping her hands together. “I’ll see you all there then?”
Of course, her back is fully turned towards you. Dumb and dumber nod in unison, and as the girl walks off, they push at each other excitedly.
“First college party,” they cry out in joy.
“Oh my god,” you mutter. “You two are pathetic.”
Jake nods slowly in agreement. “Well… you guys have fun. I think I’m just gonna head back to my dorm and shower…”
“And get ready, right?” Sunghoon says dangerously, wagging a finger at him. “Because you are coming, right?”
Jake shivers under his friends’ threatening glares. But what really scares him is when his eyes find yours. You look pissed. Fuck. What did he do this time?
“I mean… I guess I could pop in…” Jake says reluctantly. He sneaks in another glance in your direction and sees that your frown grows even deeper. Was that the wrong thing to say?
“Babe?” Jake calls after you as you stride across campus, shivering in your t-shirt and mini skirt. “Why are you walking so fast?”
It’s dark now, save for the dim street lamps. You stop abruptly, and he almost bumps into you. When you turn, your jaw is already clenched.
“Am I crazy, or did that girl just completely ignore me?” you ask genuinely, voice at the seams of losing composure. Because what the fuck was her problem?
Jake laughs nervously. “Choa? I thought she seemed pretty friendly?”
Your expression sours. “Yeah, maybe a little too friendly,” you say under your breath. Jake catches it.
“Wait,” he says with a shit-eating grin, leaning in. “Babe… are you jealous? Hm?”
Your cheeks heat up, arms crossing like a toddler. “Fuck off.”
He laughs now, twisting you around and guiding you forward with an arm around your shoulder. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, babeeee…”
He notices how you don’t pull away from his touch, when normally you would hiss something like, “people are watching,” or something like that. Jake bites back an even bigger smile. You just let him hold you.
The walk to his dorm was peachy for him, save for the fact that his sweaty arm stank up your shirt.
You! Jealous. This has to be a dream. When you reach his room, shared with a sophomore named Heeseung who never seems to be around, you sit on Jake’s bed, still reeling from the earlier interaction.
“Am I overreacting?” you ask him, not at all bothered that he was taking his jersey off. You’re well past the stage of pretending his bare torso flusters you. “Like… did it not seem like she wanted you?”
Jake laughs, wiping his underarms with a nearby towel. “Me? Babe, no. That’s out of the question. She's like four years older than us—”
You roll your eyes. “So where the fuck did ‘Jakey’ come from?”
He shrugs, catching his reflection in the wall mirror hanging on his door. His muscles flex in a way that makes your eyes travel down his well-toned back…
You snap your gaze back to the wall. No. Focus. You’re supposed to be mad.
“New year, new nickname?” he offers, teasingly.
You throw a pillow at his head. Like the athlete he is, Jake dodges it. He turns to you, laughing, amused by how sulky and adorable you look on his bed. Brows furrowed in contemplation, tugging your legs close to your chest. Your plush thighs in your pretty little skirt that would have gotten you dress-coded back in high school with your knee-high socks and…
Fuck.
“It’s not like I care,” you mumble, unconvincingly.
Jake huffs out something that sounds like a chuckle, but his thoughts are elsewhere. His mind (and eyes) are on the edge of your skirt. He places a hand on your thigh and rubs it softly. To you, it felt like reassurance, and it was. But he was also incredibly horny.
“Babe,” his words drawl. “Look at me.”
Your eyes meet his for a split second before he plants a wet kiss on your cheek. “Hey—”
He chuckles as he plants another on your nose. Then your chin. And then your other cheek. And now you’re trying to push him away, but he holds your wrists to prevent you from stopping his incessant attacks.
“Jake—You stink—Freak!” You try to say as his lips find yours, while he’s giggling up a storm. So cute. You're so fucking cute.
His next kiss is deep, drawing out your breath sharply. Your back is on the bed now with Jake on top, his hands still wrapped around your wrists.
Jake’s lips move against yours, your eyes fluttering shut. His tongue prods and pushes in, his taste so sweet and heavy as you breathe in his weirdly intoxicating scent. Like fresh laundry doused in the salt of his sweat. You clench his biceps as he comes up from the kiss to catch some air.
He looks at you, face flushed and mouth parted.
“I’m hard,” he blurts out, and you smack him on his naked chest.
“What do you want me to do about that?” you mutter as you start to feel him press against your stomach. “Don’t you have a party to go to?”
He shakes his head, burying his face in your hair. He lets out a groan, grinding onto you just to feel any part of you against his football shorts. You let out a squeak, clenching at his toned muscles harder.
“You’re not coming with?” he asks, and you can hear the shakiness in his breath. You smirk, wrapping your legs around him and shifting up so that his tent could meet your core. Jake fit between you so snugly.
His head lifts to meet yours, pupils already so dilated.
“Why would I?” you say through hooded eyes, and you could visibly see him gulp. It almost makes you laugh. But instead, you tease him, moving your hips up to graze his bulge.
“I have time,” he groans quickly. “For this. Or whatever you want to do. Like I’m really down for any—”
You roll your eyes, gripping the back of his head to smash him back down to your lips. Your movements are messy, tongues clashing at a feverish pace. He’s still sore from earlier, but like hell he would let this opportunity go. Not when you looked this fucking good. And angry too. (For him, these things aren’t mutually exclusive...)
With trembling fingers, he lifts your shirt and almost moans at the sight of your bare skin. While he wants to thank you for saving him the trouble of not fiddling with a bra clasp, you pat yourself on the back for leaving your necklace at home.
Knowing how frisky Jake gets after the adrenaline of a good win runs through him, it was the right call. You don’t think you could handle Jake seeing you so jealous while having his ring resting on your chest. Yeah, you’d probably die right in front of him.
His hands grab your tits softly, massaging them between his fingers. Jake dips down, swallowing a nipple in his mouth as he watches you sigh out in pleasure.
He’s confident in one thing when it comes to you, and it was this right here. He could make your tough exterior melt just as long as you were under him. Or over him. He has no preference.
His tongue circles your bud, tugging with his teeth lightly.
“Jake—” When he hears you squeak, his dick twitches with anticipation. So pliant now. What happened to that dominance earlier? He’d like to see it come back…
He moves on to the other breast, licking and massaging so it doesn't feel too neglected. Jake loves your tits, could be buried between them for the rest of his life if you let him. But now isn't the time! He has a very mean and very jealous, but also very hot, girlfriend to please. And maybe some party to make it to, who knows.
Jake pulls his shorts down roughly, just enough so that he can take his dick out. Already so big, the bulbous tip weeps with desire for you. He’s palming himself, relishing in how your eyes shut tight, lips parted open as his wet, pink muscle traces circles over your sensitive skin.
He’s nipping the top of your breasts now, careful not to leave marks in visible areas. Jake knows how you get about that sort of thing.
His fingers drag your white, damp panties off your legs, but keeps your skirt on. And the knee-high socks for good measure. His hand meets your core, pushing down on your clit with a heavy pressure he knows you like.
You gasp, covering your eyes with your forearm. You’re so embarrassed. The noises you're making are unbecoming of you. All he does is laugh. Still so sensitive during sex after a whole year of dating. And he’s supposed to be the shy one.
His fingers drag slowly on your folds as he spreads your juices all over his digits. Jake might just cum in his pants with how soft your tits feel as he nestles his head in between them.
He pushes two fingers in right away, and you draw out a sharp breath. You almost hit him on the shoulder. He has no idea how big his hands are. How sometimes you would eye them whenever he helps you with homework. Veiny, like his cock.
He’s moving his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace, wet squelches echoing through the room.
“Ngh—Mmm—” you groan, arching your back to meet his movements. Impatient. You’re always so impatient.
“JAKE!” you cry out, when he rubs over a certain spot.
He looks up at you from his comfortable position between the valley of your chest, and with a teasing glint in his eyes, he says, “You mean Jakey?”
And it’s not an exaggeration in the least to say that you start seeing red. You grab his wrist, the pads of your fingers digging into his flesh. He stops his movements, looking at you with those puppy-dog eyes like he did something wrong. And he did. Something very. Very. Wrong.
“Sorry, I just wanted to tease—”
You pull his fingers out of you. With one swift movement, you grab him by his shoulders and push him down onto the bed. You’re hovering over him now, eyes dark.
Jake swallows nervously. Why’d you have to look so hot when provoked?
“Did I ruin the vibe or…”
“Shut up,” you growl, crashing your lips onto his. He tries to hold your waist to offer support, but you hold his wrists down onto the sheets. He could probably push you off very easily. But he doesn’t. Because he loves seeing you like this. Loves the urgency in your touch.
You want him! And you’re showing it! His heart is practically doing backflips in his chest.
Your tongue explores the inside of Jake’s mouth, licking the roof of it in a way that has him seeing stars. You’re so rough with it. Sucking on his, biting his lip, moving so desperately against him.
“Babe—” he tries to say in between your assaults on his mouth. But it comes out in a breathless whisper when he feels you grinding your slick pussy against him.
“I said,” you say through gritted teeth. “Shut. Up.”
He almost moans when his leaking tip hits your clit. Just the contact alone has the back of his head hitting the pillow roughly. But he forces himself to watch as you move against him as he offers no assistance. Your grip on his wrists moves to the sheets as you focus on grinding against his dick. Swiveling yourself on him back and forth. Rubbing and rubbing. But it’s not enough. He needs to be inside. Needs to feel you right now.
Your breath is on his neck now, riling yourself up at his stunt. Jakey? What grown woman calls someone that? Choa and her nice ass bob... Fuck her!
“Ngh—” he lets out as you suction an erogenous zone on his neck, sucking and biting him like a vampire. Your tongue lapping at his skin to soothe him from the brutal assaults of your teeth. You close your eyes to relish in his taste. So salty from sweat, but still so sweet. But you’re distracted now as Jake breaks free from your hold. He grips your ass with one hand, the other guiding his pulsing member to your slippery entrance.
“Wha—”
He’s looking at you with pleading eyes. “Can I, baby?” Jake begs, cheeks tinged pink. “Please?”
You bite back a smile. What a fucking loser.
You push down on him, just slightly, just enough for his bulbous tip to slip inside. His grip on your ass is now slack. He doesn't even want to fight back, really.
“Fuck—” Jake’s mouth parts open, watching you with heavy-lidded eyes when you come back up. No longer inside you, he groans.
“Whyyy,” he whines. “I said I’m sorry—”
He inhales a sharp breath when you engulf his tip again, tightening around him just a little harder.
“Do you like being called Jakey?” you question darkly. “Like it when other girls feel up on you?”
He shakes his head desperately. “No—Only you—” he says through pained groans.
And then you lift again, laughing at his pathetic form. “I don’t believe you.”
He’s practically writhing underneath you now, his mushroom tip pulsing against your folds. Your skirt hides it all from view, and he just wishes he could rip it off you. Give you a new one, much, much shorter, so he can see everything better.
But only if you let him.
“You’re literally torturing me,” he whimpers, hips jutting up messily. He keeps missing your entrance, the one he desperately needs to be buried in. “Need to feel you right now—”
“What’s it to me?” you ask meanly, your thumb prodding at his bottom lip. His tongue comes out to lick at the pad of your thumb, sucking it ever-so-slightly. You enjoy this view. Him underneath you. Pleading. Whining. Like he's starving.
“I’ll make you feel so good, baby,” Jake offers through the haziness of his lust. Not entirely conscious of how desperate he sounds. “You can use me however you want. I’ll literally do anything. Just please—”
And then you sink, so slowly that his eyes roll to the back of his head. The devil. His girlfriend is the devil.
“Babe—” You shut him up with another open-mouthed kiss. Messy, just how he likes it.
He grips his hands into yours as you suckle his tongue, intertwining your fingers together. You try not to wince as you sheath him fully, realizing now that you were overconfident in taking control before he could properly prep you.
Usually, sex was an hours-long ordeal with Jake. He likes to finger you, then eat you out, then repeat, until he can slip into your slick warmth with little issue. Sex is the only time you don’t deny him the pleasure of seeing you flustered over him. Over what he could do for you. What he could provide you if you let him tell everyone in the world that he’s yours.
Regardless, Jake will always be long and thick, and he still stretches you out so deliciously. Your mouths clash against each other, swallowing back both of your moans as saliva pools at the sides of his bruised lips.
Depraved. That’s all you could think of when Jake bottoms out inside you. He’s so sweaty now, the scent so musky that it drives you insane. Do other girls smell these pheromones when he’s around? Or is this just you and your hypersensitivity to everything that involves him?
You’re moving up and down now, with shallow thrusts that do little to satiate the flame in your stomach. You don’t do this enough—take control enough. Your knees are already weak, wobbling, as you grind down on him.
But you push through it as you continue to impale yourself on his cock, gummy walls clenching him tightly with each thrust. You want to get him off like this, even if your whole body is trembling above him.
And it’s not like Jake doesn’t notice. But like the little shit he is, he doesn’t feel like helping. Because he enjoys the feeling too much, of your breasts bouncing filthily against his chest. When you lift yourself from his lips so that you can focus on riding him, he finds it so endearing. How you put your hands on his abdomen to steady yourself, how you fuck yourself on his length. How much you struggle to take all of him in. Not sure what to do with yourself.
‘My poor baby,’ Jake thinks, chuckling at how tight your eyes shut just to feel him better.
“Need help?” he hums, his hand drawing circles on your hip. You shake your head, teeth gritted.
“N-no,” you try to muster out, but it’s unconvincing. Your movements are stuttering, moans slipping out of your mouth too easily. He smirks. His little pillow princess.
Jake, with his grip on your hips, pulls you down onto his cock. Hard. You gasp as his hips snap up with it.
“Ah—” you cry out, your nails now digging into his shoulder blades. He pounds into a spot that had you almost come undone at that very moment. How did he get so good at this?
Jake lifts you, all the way until his pink tip is the only thing in your wet pussy. Then, as harshly as he could, he pushes you down on him, his thickness grazing at your deepest parts. And he does this again and again until you collapse onto his chest from the roughness of his thrusts.
“I’m gonna—Ngh—Fuck—You—” you try to say through your moans, try to sound angry. But you love it. Love how tight he grabs your bum. Love the slight stretch of pain as he stuffs you full of him. Love that trickle of spit that falls out of his mouth as his back lifts off the bed to feel you better. Ugh, you hate him.
“JAKE—”
“Shhh, baby, ” he whispers, forcing your face into the crook of his neck. “Just take it.”
Jake plunges up into you, propelling your hips down with his harsh grip. He lifts a heavy hand, smacking your ass from behind as you try to match his timing. You scream. He does it again, massaging the tender spot. The pain mixes with the pleasure, as tears prick the corner of your eyes. You feel your climax building now as your lips find his neck again, sucking and biting. Marking him. Let everyone know that he’s yours. That you own him.
“Babe…” he whines, too lost in the suctioning of your tightness to really care. Because he’s close too. So fucking close.
Jake’s arms move up to your back, caging you into a bear-like embrace. His feet plant themselves on the bed, as his dick shoves into you with newfound energy. He’s going so fast, you could practically hear the speed. Feel it too. The wet squelches of his balls slapping against your ass. You move with him, trying to sync your rhythm to his.
“Mmm—Ahh—” your moans jumble into each other. Your legs are trembling, even more than they were before. A searing feeling within you continues to build and build. A single, full thrust from him has you biting into his neck brutally, stifling your moans as your orgasm crashes through you in waves.
“Shit—” he cries out, from both the pain of your teeth and the pleasure of your cunt's constricting grip. You grind down on him, whimpering into his skin, back arched to ease yourself through the sensitivity.
Jake’s dick twitches in you once, then twice. He pushes you off of him and onto the bed, harsher than he intended. But he doesn’t have a condom on, and... he likes the way you look in white.
He hovers over you now, his painfully hard length in his hand. He’s stroking himself with urgency, fist wrapped around himself with a panicked grip. He’s watching you intently as you splay out underneath him. So fucking pretty for him. Lips bruised and bitten so sensually. Legs opened with your juices glistening on the inside of your thighs. Maybe he should stuff his cock into your—
“Fuck—” he groans, mouth parting at the sight of his thick ropes of cum spurting out of him, coating your stomach and tits. He strokes slowly, pumping all that he’s worth onto your body. You welcome it, eyes drinking in his flushed demeanor.
“I love you,” Jake mutters as he comes down from his high. And you don’t say anything back, distracted as your fingers coat themselves on the sticky fluids on your skin. Such a mess, both of you.
You hear it then. Intense vibrations on his nightstand. Jake’s phone, very much neglected, is blowing up with texts and calls. Was it going off like that the whole time? Then his eyes go wide like saucers.
“Shit! The party—”
Your eyes narrow. Before he can pick it up, you grab the nape of his neck to pull him down into another sloppy kiss. Your legs wrap around Jake once more, smirking as you feel him melt into you with little resistance.
“What party?”
morning after.
“You’re a bitchhhh,” Sunghoon cries out, over a FaceTime call that Jake was forced to pick up at nine in the morning. You were already gone by then, running late to your morning lecture.
Heeseung, thankfully, still hadn’t returned to the dorm. Or else you wouldn’t have been able to stay over and let Jake devour you a few more times, but that’s besides the point. He starts humming happily to himself with the memories of last night still fresh in his mind.
“They wouldn’t even let me into the bar because I was wearing the wrong colors,” his friend continues to complain.
“I get it, I get it,” Jake replies, only half-listening. He’s fixing his outfit in the mirror, admiring how well a polo shirt fits him. It’s weird. He’s getting used to not looking like a dweeb all the time, just a few weeks into his big transformation, even with his glasses on right now.
“Yo, do you think these pants look better with a belt or nah?” he asks, not really sparing Sunghoon a glance. He adjusts his shirt’s collar slightly until—
“WHAT THE FUCK—”
Jake jumps, phone nearly dropping from the desk he sat it on.
“WHAT IS THAT?!”
“What? What?!” Jake snaps his head to look behind himself, like Sunghoon might have seen a ghost.
“Did you get eaten by a fucking lion?!” Sunghoon gawks. Jake’s cheeks turned a bright shade of red.
Damn, he forgot.
“W-what are you talking about?” he mutters unconvincingly, slowly coming out of frame. He strips the polo off in a panic, digging through his closet until he finds a turtleneck. It’s autumn anyway. This is fine, right?
“Our friendship is done,” Sunghoon deadpans at the camera. “You got fucking laid and didn’t tell me?! I mean, I understand Jay, he’d make it weird. BUT NOT EVEN ME?!”
Jake shakes his head, tugging the turtleneck on. He tries to roll up his sleeves to look more casual, but now he looks like Steve Jobs. Shit. He should put his contacts on.
“So who is it?!” Sunghoon presses. “Who’s the unlucky girl?”
When Jake doesn’t reply, Sunghoon gasps.
“Unlucky guy?!”
“Man, shut up!” Jake cries, snatching his phone off the desk and coming back into frame. “Please don’t tell Jay.”
–
“Okay, so he told Jay,” he blurts, shielding himself with his arm like you’re about to hit him. “Please don’t get mad at me.”
You almost asked why he was wearing a turtleneck in relatively warm weather when he tugged the collar down to show his neck. Absolutely purple and bruised. And yes. Maybe a dark, suppressed part of you jumped with glee. But the more rational part started cursing yourself out.
“I can’t believe you’d video call him the morning after,” you groan, massaging your temple with your fingers. “Ugh, I’m so stupid. What was I even thinking?!”
Jake gives you a sly smile. “I mean, I’m not complaining—”
You shoot him another icy stare, and he stops.
“W-well, it’s not like they know that it’s you! They probably think it’s someone else…”
You inhale a sharp breath at the thought. Was he gonna tell them the hickeys on his neck were from someone else? Who? Choa?
“Whatever,” you mutter, whipping around as your bag purposely smacked his bicep. You walk off, fists clenched, ignoring Jake’s calls out to you.
Fucking Choa.
–
A full week has passed since the disaster that was Sunghoon seeing Jake’s bruised neck. Your boyfriend only felt safe enough to see the two idiots once the marks faded, and even then, he was a little disappointed to wake up and see them all gone.
“So run it through with me again,” Jay requests, leaning over the boiling hot pot broth. The boys sit in a dimly lit restaurant with a stage in the back.
“Like, you were just walking back to your dorm and boom—you found a rando to hook up with out of nowhere?!” Jay questions, dropping tofu into the soup so aggressively that it splashes Jake’s wrist.
“Why are you making up fantasies in your head about my sex life?” Jake mutters, pushing his glasses up his face. He was too lazy to put his contacts on just to hang out with these two. “I plead the fifth.”
“Bro, I thought you were a virgin this whole time!” Sunghoon adds unhelpfully. “Excuse us for trying to be supportive.”
Jake rolls his eyes, struggling to grab an udon noodle with his chopsticks.
“Wait,” Jay says through the hot pot steam. “Weren’t you walking with [Y/N] that night?”
Jake gulps, throat bobbing as he fiddles with the noodle more to avoid suspicion.
“Right!” Sunghoon snaps his fingers, and for a second, Jake’s life flashes before his eyes. They know. They have to! Fuck, you’re gonna be so mad at him—
“Why don’t we just ask her who it was?”
Jake stares at them and breaks out into a nervous laugh. Never in his life was he happier to have a more idiotic set of childhood friends.
“Please do,” Jake smiles, wondering how you would weasel out of that conversation with them. “She knows her very well…”
A piercing sound of microphone feedback ricochets through the restaurant. The three cover their ears as everyone’s attention turns to the neglected stage.
“Who wants to sing?! It's open mic night!” the restaurant owner booms. When a deafening silence fills the air, Jay lifts Jake’s hand straight into the air without hesitation.
“This guy loves Celine Dion!” he cries out as Jake tries to yank his arm back down. He curses at his friend, but to no avail.
“Okay!” the owner shouts excitedly. “Come on right up, sir!”
Jay and Sunghoon practically drag Jake up the stage, laughing themselves all the way back to their seats in the far back of the restaurant. Jake stands frozen as dozens of strangers stare at him, his heartbeat thudding in his ears. He takes off his glasses, shoving them in his pocket, and brushes his hair back. He couldn't bear to look at all these blank faces staring at him. Confidence. This is all about confidence.
When ‘My Heart Will Go On' starts echoing through the restaurant walls, Jake’s face flushes all the way red. This is exposure therapy; he tries to cope with himself. If he could do this, he could probably build up the courage to ask you about going public. So that his friends stop thinking he’s a loser. Maybe for you to stop thinking it, too.
He sucks in a deep breath. What’s the difference between this and a showerhead? Nothing. Absolutely nothing!
“Every night in my dreams, I see youuuu… I feel youuu…” he starts slowly, welcomed with a soft gasp from an audience member. Jay and Sunghoon’s laughter dies as Jake sings. Shit. He was actually doing it. And he sounded good, too. Like an angel. Was Jay crying?
Jake loses himself in the slow melody of the song, singing his heart out as he does in every postgame shower. ‘This one’s for you, babe,’ he thinks. Wherever you are…
When the song ends and Jake’s eyes open, he’s met with a standing ovation. At a damn hot pot restaurant. Jay and Sunghoon are cheering the loudest, holding their hearts like their once-nerdy best friend was their child at a talent show. The owner comes up to the stage, sniffling.
“Give it up for this random kid!”
As Jake makes his way back to the table, he holds his head up high. He couldn’t have imagined doing this a year before, let alone ordering food at a kiosk without stuttering. It’s like taking off his glasses gave him super powers.
“Excuse me—” Jake turns around. A girl with long flowing hair stops him.
“Are you Jake Sim? The freshman on the football team?” she asks, eyes bright. He nods. Does he know her?
“I’m Suji from the Dance department.” She bows slightly. “Your performance was incredible, by the way!”
He nods, giving a small “thanks,” before he turns back around.
“Actually!” She calls after him. He stops again. “I just wanted to ask if you were interested in auditioning to be the male lead of our upcoming musical! It’s about a football player who finds passion in singing and dancing. I just thought it would fit you so well!”
Jake turns back to face the stranger. He ponders deeply. A musical? Him? He’d never thought about it before, but what the hell! He guesses he’s the type to try new things now. The power of a good haircut, maybe.
“I’ll think about it,” he says with a polite smile.
Suji grins back. “Auditions start tomorrow. We’d love to have you.”
By the time Jake finds his way back to his seat, his friends are already geeking.
“You pulled another?!” Jay cries in anguish, biting his fist. “I should have gone up there. That should have been me! Damn it!”
“It’s not fair,” Sunghoon wails, leaning his head dramatically against the wall. “You had no play in high school. Like absolutely zero bitches—”
Jake snorts, scrounging for his glasses once more to slip them back on. “She was just asking me to audition for some musical.”
“I’m sure she was,” Jay says with a smirk. “I’m sure she’s staring straight at your back right now because she wants you in that musical soooo bad.”
Jake shifts in his chair uncomfortably, and sure enough, Suji is watching him. She shoots up her arm to wave. He looks back at his friends with a confused glance.
“Maybe they’re desperate?”
Sunghoon groans. “I’m gonna call [Y/N]. Let’s get her expertise on this.”
“Don’t!” Jake lunges, trying to grab Sunghoon’s phone as he takes it out of his pocket. But then flashes from that night start playing in his head. You above him. Riding him. Gripping his shoulders. Your lips on his neck, marking him until he whined and begged. All at the mere mention of Choa’s weird pet name for him. Jake clears his throat and sits back, not even trying to hide the shit-eating grin spreading across his face.
“...Yeah,” he says more casually. “Ask her.”
–
ma baby: Come over. Now.
Jake receives your text after Sunghoon’s impromptu call, bringing his hands together in a prayer position to the sky. Thank you to whatever higher being was watching over him.
When he reaches your residence hall, you’re waiting outside your door in pajamas, foot tapping impatiently against the carpet. You start glaring at his silhouette even before he comes into view.
“So,” you start slowly, “you just let anyone talk to you these days?”
Jake’s already giddy. Yes… Be angry with him… Let him in your dorm room and reprimand him, while you’re at it…
“Babeeee,” he teases, his arms already reaching for yours. You dodge him. “Are you mad at me?”
“No,” you reply flatly. “I’m just wondering when you started serenading restaurants and accepting invitations from random girls?”
“Just thought I could finally get some appreciation for my many talents,” he says teasingly, raising an eyebrow at you.
“Are you saying I don’t appreciate you?” you ask, not at all amused by his playful gaze. “I tell you all the time that you’re smart!”
He chuckles. “Everyone and your mom knows that by now, babe.”
You narrow your eyes. ‘He’s learning how to fight back,’ you think sourly.
“So you enjoyed that girl's appreciation, then?” you counter, knowing that you were riling yourself up by asking such a loaded question. Jake bites his lip to stifle a smile. There it is.
He shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says, pushing his glasses up. “I think I might actually consider auditioning!”
And this part is genuine. He’s always enjoyed singing. It could be a cool new experience, especially since he shied away from doing theater back in high school. Maybe now was his moment to shine... But when he notices how your expression darkens, he’s suddenly excited to audition for the musical for a whole different reason.
You look around the hallway, checking to see if anyone's coming by. Then you pull him by the collar and into your dorm room. The door shuts behind you two as you push him to sit on the bed. Jake looks up, eyes bright with pure anticipation as you climb onto his lap.
“What’s up, babe?” he asks, feigning ignorance. And you fall for it. Because your cute, nerdy boyfriend couldn’t possibly have ulterior motives… Right?
“You have class tomorrow?” you ask as you adjust yourself on him, legs encasing both sides of his thighs. His hands find your hips, pulling you closer.
“It depends,” he says, knowing full well he has an 8 a.m. physics lab. “Is your roommate coming back anytime soon?”
Oh yeah. Her.
“Not tonight,” you mutter, already peppering his neck with small kisses. “She’s visiting her parents.”
Jake smirks, tilting your chin up so your eyes meet his. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip as the wheels are already turning in his head. He fakes a cough.
“You know… I think the musical is actually a romantic comedy.”
You’re on your knees, carpet harshly grazing your skin.
“Fuck,” Jake groans, head thrown back as his hand clutches your hair. He’s pushing you down onto his cock, relishing in the way your cheeks hollow around him. How you take his whole length into your mouth without your usual snappy commentary. Look at you. Underneath him. So eager to please, but so in need of control. He bites his bottom lip at the view. It's addictive.
“Just like that,” Jake encourages, stroking your cheek so lovingly. Your tongue licks the underside of his thickness, careful not to have your teeth graze his sensitive skin. He’s so flushed above you, a darkness blooming in your heart. The sight of his glasses pushed so low on his nose bridge. So focused, so desperate for release.
‘My Jake,’ you think to yourself. ‘All mine.’
You bob your head up and down, your mouth plunging down to the base of his member with the help of his tight grasp on your hair.
“Y-yes,” he sighs, his hips coming up to meet your lips. Jake’s gaze never leaves yours, unable to tear his eyes from the tears forming in your eyes from just how much he fills you up. You always had something to say. Always rolling your eyes at him. Now, your eyes were rolling back for a different reason.
His mouth falls open. “F-fuck—”
You smirk as his hips start to lose rhythm. You remember the first time you gave him head. Just like this, knees on the floor of his room back home, with his parents watching TV downstairs. Glasses perched and foggy. He came within seconds. You were proud, just a little, that he was able to last this long now.
“B-babe?” he tries to cry out. “I’m close—”
You pull away from him with a pop of your lips, teasing the slit of his tip with the flat of your tongue. He groans in frustration, but his hands don’t push you down to take him in again.
“Already?” you say, eyes batting up at him. “Why should I give you the satisfaction?”
He whines, his grip on your hair tightening just a little.
“Please?” he asks, not really sure what you want from him. It’s not like he asked you to just fuck him with your mouth! That was all your doing. Okay, yes, maybe he did provoke you. But did that mean he didn’t deserve to orgasm?!
You’re pumping him slowly with your right hand, gripping tightly and stroking enough so that he’s still edging close to his climax. But not close enough to actually reach it.
“I thought I was supposed to be showing you appreciation,” you say pointedly. “Take my time with you and all that.”
He shakes his head ferociously, his hips snapping up into your fist.
“Babe—Please—I’m so—” he groans when he feels you slow your pace again.
“So what?” you ask, feigning naivety. You really are the devil.
He shakes his head. He can’t speak. Can’t even think. Just frustrated with how your lips aren’t wrapped around his fucking dick anymore.
“I’m sorry,” he cries. “I’ll do anything, baby. Please—Just stop teasing—Please—”
His sobs are music to your ears. Your wrist’s pace on him quickens, as your mouth engulfs his swollen tip. Your tongue circles the head, pumping him up and down with all your strength and might. Jake’s hands are clutching the sheets, hips pistoning up into your sticky fingers. He feels his load threatening to spill over.
“Fuck—Yes, baby—There—” He pulls your head back, hand encasing yours, pumping ferociously with you. Your mouth is wide open, tongue sticking out, eyes looking directly up at his. An invitation.
Spurts of his hot, white release coat your pink tongue. He unloads everything within him all over your features. Your cheeks. Your chin. Your cute ass nose. All covered in his milky cum. His mouth parts at the sight. So pretty. His girlfriend is so fucking pretty.
“I love you,” he whispers, as he wipes dribbles of his liquid off your chin with his thumb. “I love you so fucking much…”
You hum back in approval as he lifts you back up and onto his lap. Your face, still stained with his orgasm, comes up to kiss him. He grimaces slightly. You taste infinitely better than he does. He’s almost thankful you part ways with his lips so that you could pepper kisses down his neck.
And when you start sucking and nipping in the same way you did that game night, he smiles. His arms wrap around your waist as you suction his pulse point.
‘I could get used to this,’ Jake thinks.
The audition the next day went surprisingly easily. He truly was the only one trying out for the main role, while Suji was already pre-selected to play the female lead. Jake thinks it’s a bit unfair. What if other people wanted to audition too? But whatever. At least he got the part.
He finds you in between your lectures, holding out a boba for you in his hand. Jake’s not wearing a turtleneck this time, proudly wearing the battle scars of your teeth on his neck. No one’s brave enough to bring it up to him yet, to his dismay. Except you, who promptly smacks him in the arm for his shamelessness.
“You look like a pervert,” you grumble, still taking the drink from him.
He chuckles at your cute expression. You say that like it wasn’t your intention to have him show the bites off. To show that he is very much occupied with someone else. Not Choa. Or whoever this other girl was.
“I was wearing my jacket the whole day,” he reassures. “Just took it off when I came to see you.”
He flexes slightly. “You think I’ve bulked recently?”
You roll your eyes and ignore his obvious fish for compliments. “So how’d it go? The audition?”
He smiles. “You’re looking at the male lead of Singing Striker,” he says proudly, hand to chest. “And before you ask, the name was not my choice.”
You scoff at the cheesiness. “Congrats,” you say through small sips of your gifted drink. “Break a leg.”
“Babe… when you say it like that, I feel like you mean it the other way.”
You shake your head, speaking robotically. “So who’s the female lead? It’s a romcom, you said?”
“The girl,” he starts, snapping his fingers like he doesn’t already know who she is. “Suji. From the restaurant. The one who recruited me.”
Your eyes morph into a squint, like you’re glaring at him.
“...Interesting,” you say, willing yourself not to overreact. So Jake is hot now (always was). Girls just love to approach him with invitations to stuff. And he gets to act in a musical with someone that Jay described as “the baddest girl I’ve ever seen in my life.” Great! You love that, actually.
You bite down hard on the boba straw. “You know what… Are they casting for extras?"
And it's like a bad habit now. How you nip and scar his neck like you’re feeding off him every time a girl even so much looks in his direction. It’s easier than saying you’re jealous, easier than admitting that you have a sick sort of need to control who Jake interacts with.
You almost bent a metal spoon in the cafeteria when a girl asked for his number while you were sitting right in front of him. Granted, you did denounce being in a relationship with him pretty heavily the first few weeks at school. You knew she had every right to shoot her shot, but that didn't stop you from taking Jake right into a janitorial closet and making you eat him out as an apology.
“Fuck, baby,” he moans into the space between your thighs as your hands push him deeper into your wetness. “I've never even seen that girl in my life—”
You grit your teeth, angry that he even mentioned her. “Did I ask?” you growl through sharp breaths. “Just shut up.”
He smiles against your clit, sucking harshly to elicit more of your beautiful noises. He hums into you. Happy that you're mad at him. Happy that he gets to do dirty things with you without having to practically be on his knees and begging. Well, really, he already was.
His tongue laps at your folds, thrusting in and out to prolong his stay in between your thighs. Maybe he is teasing, but really, he’s just taking it all in. Your addictive noises. Your sweet taste. The feeling of his fingers digging into your ass just to hold you up. The way you clench around his tongue when he arches it inside, real deep. Yeah, he needs you bad.
Jake is lapping at you, your legs constricting around him even tighter when he finds his way back to your clit. When he tugs on it with his teeth, you jolt.
“Jake—” He does not care. He nips again, flattening his tongue to soothe the slight pinch. You arch your back into him, riding his face until you stop yourself. You look desperate. Pathetic even. But Jake groans.
“Keep going,” he huffs. “Use me, babe. Use me like I’m your fucking toy.”
You tsk, wondering where he learned to talk like that.
“Fucking pervert,” you mutter through harsh breaths. But your grip on him does tighten, and he whimpers at the feeling of you tugging on his locks.
“You like it when I'm like this, don't you?” You grit your teeth, pushing him in further. His nose is practically buried into your clit as he fucks his pink muscle into you at a merciless pace.
“Like when you get attention. Like when everyone fucking wants you.”
You're seething, practically riling yourself up. He tries to speak, but you clench around his tongue, trapping his voice. He hums into your folds instead, licking the roof of your warm hole as he finds the exact spot he's been searching for. You mewl.
“Fuck! T-there!”
You're grinding onto his face now, smothering him with your scent. Yes, he thinks to himself, please suffocate him. Tremors go through your body as you feel something intense build in the lower pit of your stomach. So close. So fucking close.
Jake’s grip on your ass loosens as he lets you do all the work. Your legs over his shoulder pump furiously into his face. Like, Jake is just a mere vessel for your climax. And he wouldn't have it any other way. He doesn't even nurse his own hard-on, one that's painfully stretching his jeans.
You're fucking his tongue, whining with each thrust, eyes starting to roll back, fingers almost pulling Jake’s hair from his scalp. Your hips stutter and then—
“Fuuuck…” Your orgasm pulses through you in ways that have you screaming silently. Your legs are trembling as his mouth vibrates with his hums against your core. Jake’s lapping up all your juices with an urgency.
Everything. He wants to taste everything. When you gently push him off from the oversensitivity, he resists at first. He holds you in place until he gets his fill, until tears are threatening to spill over. But your legs finally find the ground as he looks up at you with half-lidded eyes.
“I love you,” he whispers, out of breath.
‘Whore’ you want to say out loud, but you know that would only make him hornier. He’s weirdly into stuff like that. But you smile as you comb through his hair. He doesn’t have complaints about you messing it all up as long as you’re fucking him, huh?
Jake, still on his knees, looks up at you with a lick of his lips, savoring the remaining taste of you on it. You wish he could see how he looked. Flushed. Damp. Yours. You almost lift him up to kiss him when—Ding.
The loving gaze you two share is cut off by the sound of his phone. He finally gets up from his knees, checking the notification.
“Oh shit,” he mutters. “Suji says I missed the costume fitting. I think I need to head out soon—”
You smash your lips against his, interrupting his train of thought. You moan at the taste of yourself on his devious tongue. Jake smirks, wrapping his arms around your waist. Maybe you could add a few more hickeys to his collection before he heads out... Just for good measure.
jake: let’s go to jay’s together?
For one of your weekly hangouts. The nights you try to avoid because they always end with you ignoring the pile of assignments you’ve already been putting off.
you: sure. wya rn?
You smack your forehead the second you realize how quickly you sent that text. You swear you weren’t waiting. It wasn’t like you were staring at the last message he sent five hours ago, ruminating over whether it was appropriate to tell him how much you missed him.
jake: meet me by the bleachers :D practice is ending soon.
The speed at which you change outfits is impressive, already heading to the damn field before you realize it. He’s there, dribbling with a couple of his teammates. You sit at the top of the stands, a bit out of his sight. He catches a glimpse of you anyway and waves. You shoot him a simple smile of acknowledgement that dampens almost immediately.
Because you also see Choa, handing him a water bottle. When Jake reaches for it, trying to avoid brushing her hand, she purposefully finds his fingers anyway. It’s enough for your stomach to sink.
Even though he’s just smiling politely. Even when it looks like their conversation lasts for two seconds. It doesn’t feel any less bad. Choa notices you staring, and she scoffs. “This is a closed practice—”
“She’s with me,” Jake corrects her immediately. “I told her to come. That’s okay, right?”
You lift an eyebrow, challenging her. Jake said it the nice way. If she had to hear you speak, you would have probably been escorted off the field by now. She coughs awkwardly and nods, instantly folding under Jake’s attention. Your boyfriend, by the way.
“O-of course,” she stammers. “Just make sure she doesn’t see the playbook.”
The guys continue playing, and you move down a few rows, keeping Choa in your line of sight. It’s like she feels the daggers you send her way because she whips around to glare at you.
“It’s kind of pathetic,” she starts. “How you cling onto him.” You squint at her, not sure if you heard her correctly. You turn around, too, to check if she really had the audacity to speak to a stranger like you in that way.
“You talking to me?” you ask, pointing at yourself mockingly. She clicks her tongue.
“Who else?” she bites back. “Do you even have a name, or do you usually just go by Jake’s guard dog?”
Your cheeks burn in anger. Oh, if you were in high school… She’d have been on the ground by now, makeup stained with turf and pebbles. But unfortunately, you’re trying to stick to your resolution. A reformed delinquent girl at a prestigious university—
“You mute too?” Choa adds in for good measure. You stand, and it’s like Jake’s Spidey senses tingle because he stops to watch, monitoring if he needs to step in.
“You know,” you say, voice cool and devoid of emotion, “you’ve got a lot to say for someone who has to talk like a baby to get a man’s attention.”
She snarls. “Excuse me?”
“Jake’s not gonna let you hit,” you mock, scanning her up and down with a disgusted face. You only say the next part just to piss her off. “You’re not really his type.”
“And you are?” She steps in closer. “You’re stuck in the fucking friendzone, acting like hot shit—”
Oh, if only she knew. The truth is sitting on your tongue, burning, begging to be spoken just so you can wipe that stupid smirk off her face. But you’re not that angry yet. Not enough to expose yourself.
“You seem like such a loser,” she continues, voice laced with malice. “Everyone already thinks you look like some stray puppy following Jake everywhere he goes. Don’t you have a life of your own? Any hobbies? Isn’t it sad showing up where you’re not wanted?”
Ouch. Jake was your puppy. He follows you around everywhere.
She digs right into that ugly little fear in the back of your mind. That you look as pitiful as you feel. That you truly were just biding your time in this dumb university until Jake showers you with attention. Is this what a relationship’s supposed to feel like? Like you’re waiting for him, all the damn time?
You inhale a deep breath. You’re better than this. Better than catfights over someone that’s already yours. A man who sleeps on your chest almost every night... But you’re not above being petty.
“And did he tell you all that,” you ask with fake sweetness, “or are your delusions that Jake’s gonna fuck you starting to get to your brain?”
She opens her mouth, but you cut her off. “I’ll make sure to put in a good word for you,” you continue, sarcasm dripping in your voice. “Make sure Jakey knows exactly the kind of girl you are.”
Choa bites the inside of her cheek. “Not like I said anything wrong.”
“Oh, right.” You pitch your voice up to that grating baby tone she uses with Jake. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate you calling me a ‘fucking loser,’ since you care so much about what he thinks.”
You could laugh at her suddenly hunched shoulders, but you just drop back down onto your seat, fake scrolling through your phone. “Don’t you have a team to manage?”
Choa whips her bob around, stomping back toward the group and desperately hoping that no one heard. But Jake is already staring. He doesn’t look mad. Just resigned.
“Choa?” he calls out, voice low and almost inaudible. He’s not smiling like usual.
“Yes?” she answers immediately, with that lilted tone that sounds like nails on a chalkboard. You don’t hear the conversation that takes place, so curious as to why Choa’s expression suddenly drops.
“Don’t ever talk to her like that again,” he says, and the entire team stiffens around them.
“And next time,” he adds, walking past her, “Just mind your fucking business.”
–
You never, in all your years of living, thought you’d be sitting in an auditorium seat watching your boyfriend act like he was in love with another girl on stage. But here you are, leg bouncing and forearms itching from the irritation bubbling in your chest.
“But don't you get it?!” Jake rehearses, script in hand. His hands flail in fake exasperation. You cover your mouth to hide the wince forming on your lips. “How can I choose between the stage and football?!”
“You don't have to choose,” Suji steps in, acting much better than Jake, at least. “You can do both.”
Jake sighs, throwing his hands up in the air. He's facing her now.
She's pretty, you think. Really pretty. Probably one of the most gorgeous girls you've ever seen in your life. And Jake is staring right into her eyes. You can’t help but wonder if he thinks the same. You grit your teeth at the thought.
“But what would people think of me?” he sighs. Suji shakes her head, moving closer. Your brows knit. That's not part of the script.
“Who cares what other people think?” she says softly, resting her hand on his chest. Your expression darkens immediately. “If it feels like you're alone… Then I can be there to support you.”
Maybe Jake's character should care what other people think, especially if he’s gonna prioritize singing on stage with some pretty girl over his football career—
You slap your own cheek lightly. Relax.
“Cut,” the musical director calls out. “Great job, you two! After this is the dance scene. We can rehearse that tomorrow. I think that's all for the day.”
When the actors and stage crew finally funnel out, you watch Jake stay behind, chatting with his costars onstage. So radiant, smiling at them with his toothy grin and cracking jokes as he says goodbye. He never used to be like that. Used to be so painfully shy that Jay had to accept his academic awards for him in high school.
And yeah, you feel like shit when he's standing there, surrounded by people who have stars in their eyes when he talks, while you're grumpily waiting in a faraway seat with no real excuse to interrupt. You're just part of the stage crew, after all. Just one of the invisible people who move props in between scenes while Jake and Suji’s characters fall deeply in love with each other. Yuck.
But you’re not gonna do the usual thing of dragging him to the nearest secluded area and fucking his brains out. No—you’re better than that. You’re not a loser! You’d let this pass.
“Bye, I’ll catch up with you guys soon! My friend’s waiting for me.”
The word ‘friend’ digs deep into your heart. But that’s your own fault.
Jake walks toward you, and the quick smile he throws your way is cut short the moment he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He stops in front of you, forehead still glistening from the stage lights, eyes glued to the screen even as he talks.
“I have practice in like thirty minutes,” he sighs, scrolling through his calendar. “And then the crew wants to have, like, a group dinner later tonight.”
He cranes his neck to release some tension, finally looking up at you. “Damn. My character is lowkey right. It really is hard balancing the two.”
You roll your eyes and stand up. “The crew? Like Jay and Sunghoon?”
He shakes his head as he walks beside you, still a bit occupied with his phone. He's sending text messages to some massive group chat, text bubble after text bubble popping up.
“The main acting crew,” he says, emphasizing the second word. “I think they wanna run the lines at En Bar and get a couple of drinks.”
You almost stop in your tracks, but you force yourself to continue walking with him, arms crossed. Good for him, you think. And you mean it. He's adjusted so well to university life, while yours feels like it revolves around him.
What's Jake up to? Is his practice done? Who's he talking to? Is it Choa? Is it Suji? Is it every girl that makes eye contact with your newly socially adept boyfriend, who just so happens to have the most gorgeous face known to mankind?
You want to punch yourself real bad.
“Do you wanna come?” he asks when he notices you've fallen silent. He thinks it's cute when you're jealous. Sulking and pouty—when it’s obvious why you’re upset. Not when you're quiet. Not when you're creating distance between you two as he walks beside you.
“I can ask them if we can reserve more chairs—”
“It's fine!” you interrupt, but even you don’t convince yourself. “I have work to catch up on anyway.”
His lips part as if recalling something important, something he promised you.
“I'm so sorry, babe!” he gasps. “I totally forgot that you needed help studying for your exam tomorrow!”
You shrug your shoulders. You’re a cool girlfriend. Super chill. Not crazy at all.
“No, it's okay,” you say, chain necklace feeling heavy on your chest. “I'll just go to the tutoring center. You're busy, I get it.”
His eyes are still laced with concern. You sound so disconnected, so not yourself. Did he do something wrong?
“I can come over tomorrow?” he suggests, but it almost comes out as a plea. “We can watch the new movie you wanted—”
“My roommate’s gonna be home.”
“Okay…” he says, voice fading. “What about my dorm?”
You shake your head. “I'm not really up for a movie, I guess.”
Jake’s expression sours. It feels like you’re shoving sheets of metal down his throat. He can take you angry. Can handle you screaming, kicking, crying, and calling him names. He can’t take whatever this is.
“I can just cancel,” he says quickly. “I’ll come over tonight!”
And Choa’s voice resounds in your ear.
“You seem like a fucking loser.”
You bite your bottom lip and stare at his wavering gaze. You wonder if he pities you.
Has he noticed? How quickly you reply to his texts? How often you show up to his extracurricular activities? How you can’t seem to admit that you’re hurting, even when he’s right here in front of you? God, you hate this feeling.
“It’s okay,” you say, and it’s small like a whisper. “Need some alone time anyway.”
“Alright,” he breathes, relenting to whatever boundary you’ve set with him. He reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your face, but when you flinch, he retracts his hand instantly.
“I love you?” he tests.
You give him a small smile and nod, pushing past him. He moves like he wants to catch your hand and stop you. But as always, he lets you walk just a little too out of his reach.
Because you still don’t say it back.
–
So this is what it feels like to twiddle your thumbs and try not to scream as Jake misses yet another hangout... He’s busy with his daily practices and rehearsals. You get that. But it’s still physically torturous to sit through Jay and Sunghoon stoking the fires of your insecurities.
“He’s gotta be seeing someone,” Sunghoon sighs, reclining into the beanbag in Jay’s apartment. “Dude just abandons his friends without any pussy involved? There’s no way.”
You smash a throw pillow from the couch and into his face, and Jay throws another one for good measure.
“Why do you always think with your dick?” Jay mutters. “Just let Jake be. This is his moment. Not like he had much to work with in high school.”
Sunghoon sighs. “Yeah,” he mumbles, almost apologetic. “He was pretty lame back then.”
You never thought so. Maybe you joked about it, but you never really meant it. He was kind. A little shy. So eager to please and follow you around. And now that the roles were reversed, you weren’t sure how to feel anymore. Fuck. Why couldn’t you just be happy for him?
He has this amazing life outside of you now. Cool friends (not Jay and Sunghoon). Great prospects for the future. It’s like a bird leaving the nest. Your carefully cultivated nest.
You felt like a cloud raining over his head when you’re around him now. After Choa, you started to notice the whispers around campus a little more. How people avoid him when you’re around because you can’t carry empty conversations about upcoming exam scores the same way Jake can.
It’s just different. He is. And it feels like you are too. But not a good different. It’s the kind that makes you feel like this isn’t how you should be. That you aren’t who you want to be… Maybe Choa was right.
And now a pillow is thrown in your direction. You shoot daggers at Sunghoon with your glare.
“What?!” you yell. He pounces in fear.
“I asked,” he coughs. “Is college treating you okay? You making friends?”
You roll your eyes. “Are you my dad?”
Jay sighs. “We always talk about Jake. Sue us for wanting to know how you’re doing for once.”
The words linger. What are you doing?
–
You’re stewing in it, marinating in how lonely it feels to stand in a corner with the stage crew while Jake, Suji, and the rest of the main cast laugh amongst themselves. Whatever.
“Those two are so cute,” a girl beside you says. Gaeul. So sweet, so bubbly. So oblivious to how tightly you clench your teeth. “They’d be like the it couple on campus, no?”
When you look between Jake and his toothy grin and Suji with her sweet laugh, you can’t help the way your heart constricts. “Yeah,” you mutter in disgruntled agreement. “I guess.”
Jake sends you sneaking glances, ones you don’t notice despite your eyes lingering on him.
You haven't been the most responsive lately. He texts you a lot in between practices and rehearsals. Whenever he has the chance. He asks to come over. Asks you to come over. And you’ve turned him down almost every time.
You didn’t attend his last two games, you’re skipping rehearsals that you used to sit through for hours, and Jay knows where you're holed up more than he does. He’s worried about you. Worried that you’re avoiding him. Were you avoiding him?
“I heard you two are really good friends,” Gaeul asks you with sparkling eyes. “He seems like such a catch. How’d you not fall in love?”
You shrug. What answer are you supposed to give? It’s not like you were resistant to his charm either. “He went through a transformation recently,” you admit. “We were both kind of outcasts in high school.”
“Me too!” she says excitedly. “I bleached my hair, and everything before uni started. What about you? Were you two like super shy?”
You shake your head. “Jake was. I was just a bad student. Got in trouble a lot. My parents literally laughed when I told them I wanted to go here.”
And your heart thuds in your chest from a memory. Because Jake believed in you. Sat through hours of studying, teaching you the difference between derivatives and whatever the fuck linearization was, just for the chance to attend the same university. So he could spend time with you, so he could be with you. And now you barely see him.
“Really? I’m not surprised, though. You seem like such a chill girl. Like you don’t care what other people think of you.”
“Trust me. I’m far from it.” You catch Jake’s longing gaze again, but you turn away.
“Starting to think it was a mistake joining this thing,” you mumble, “with how often everyone forgets their lines.”
She laughs. “I like how straightforward you are,” she says with a wide smile. “Don’t really mince your words, do you?”
You smile too, in what feels like forever. It felt free to talk about something—anything—outside of him.
“Unfortunately, I don’t know how to hold back what I say.” Which is a lie. Because you hold back a lot. More than you let on.
“Alright!” the stage manager yells. “Let’s get in position for the final scene.”
The kiss scene. The one you’ve dreaded for so long. You and Gaeul move across the stage, setting up the mics and instruments in their right place. You move past Jake with your head down. He frowns. So you are avoiding him.
“Places, people!”
You watch, from the wings, as Jake pours his heart out into the lyrics. A song about breaking free from stereotypes and whatever other inspirational stuff this whole musical’s about. He’s good. Really good. He moves like a natural on stage, throwing Suji these soft, tender glances that look so painfully real. She glows under the lights, stars in her eyes. And as the song comes to an end, he picks her up to spin her.
Just like the script says. And you clutch your forearm at the sight.
“I feel like I can really be myself with you,” he says to her. “Like I don’t have to hide or pretend.”
Whatever.
“And you make me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.”
The two stare at each other. A pause. Jake leans in. And so does she. Fuck.
You can’t do this. Can’t watch. You turn and walk out the back exit. Your chest is heavy, constricted with that ugly pang of envy.
Fuck this feeling. It hurt. Why did it have to hurt? You hate the tears that well up in your eyes, hate the shivering of your shoulders as you hug yourself in the parking lot of the stupid auditorium. You need to go back in. Save face. Show how little that kiss scene affected you because you’re supposed to be his friend in the eyes of everyone else.
You clutch your necklace through your shirt, fingers twisting the ring. Jake, who loves you. Who desperately wants your relationship to be public, to show you off. The same Jake on stage kissing another girl for a stupid musical you didn’t even want to be a part of.
He doesn’t deserve this. This monstrous version of you, who cares too much but gives too little. Overbearing to the point of suffocation.
So you walk back in, face steeled and tears wiped. He’s talking to the director with Suji, like nothing happened. Like all semblance of your self-esteem wasn’t just ruined a few minutes ago. But you need to stop. Because it isn't his fault. It isn't even Suji’s.
It’s yours. You hurt your own feelings.
Jake sees you and immediately lights up, calling your name as he jogs over. You don’t smile back.
“I have some time after rehearsals,” he says lovingly, his hand tugging your arm. “Wait for me?”
This would be the last time you would.
–
He tries to hold your hand on the walk back home to steady his heart rate. Opening night creeps closer and closer, and preparation alone won’t save him from the nerves. But when you pull away before his fingers can intertwine with yours, he flinches.
Maybe there are too many people around, Jake tells himself. You’re probably worried about being seen. And so he continues his merry yapping. He doesn’t notice the defeated glint in your eyes or the slow steps you take next to his. He’s still riding the high from rehearsal, still proud he finally made it through every line without stuttering or needing the script.
Maybe he’ll do well enough on opening night that you’ll let him kiss you afterward. Maybe you’ll walk toward him with flowers while he wraps you in his arms. He’d spin you around, brag to the whole world that you’re his girlfriend. Say it loud and proud in front of annoying ass Jay and Sunghoon, who got front row seats.
The thought pulls a grin onto Jake’s face, making him skip ahead a little. And you both keep walking toward the dorms. Just like any other day.
Until you ruin it.
“I’m dropping out of the stage crew,” you say, casually. He stops in his tracks. All semblance of a smile wipes from his face. The show is sold out. It’s too late to get you tickets.
“You won’t be able to watch,” he says, panic laced in his voice. You’re at a standstill, in the middle of campus, surrounded by trees and concrete. “You should’ve told me! I can see if I can pull some strings—”
He’s already taking his phone out to text someone. Probably the director. He doesn’t even ask why. Just goes straight to problem-solving. Your Jake. Too good. Too kind. Too forgiving.
It’s too much.
“I’m not coming to watch,” you say, harsher this time, stopping him from sending the message. Guilt washes over you instantly. Because he looks at you with his brows knit together, eyes wavering.
“I don’t understand.” You don’t want to come? You don’t want to support him?
Your mouth opens to say something. Anything. But your throat feels hoarse, shoulders too heavy. Shit. Don’t cry. You don’t cry in front of anyone.
“Jake,” you start, clenching your quivering hands open and closed. “I can’t do this anymore.”
His heart drops.
“Do what anymore?” he swallows, his mouth dry. “I’m confused—”
“I think we need to break up.”
Numb. Everything is numb.
“W-what?” Tears sting Jake’s eyes before he can blink them back. “Don’t… don’t say that.”
You shake your head. “Jake,” you whisper, careful not to get too close. Careful so you don’t make the mistake of taking back your words. “I don’t think we’re good for each other.”
He inches forward. You take a step back.
“Do you think that? That I’m not good enough—”
“No,” you interrupt. But he isn’t listening. And he doesn’t want to. Because this feels like a fucked up joke, a prank on him that’s been taken too far. Won’t you stop?
“Because if it’s something I did, I can change,” he begs. And your heart breaks a little at how desperately he searches for a hint of emotion in your face. But you don’t relent. You can be the bad guy. You always are.
“Please. We can talk this through.”
“I’m sorry,” you say, an unusual softness in your voice. “I don’t want to change my mind—”
“Why not?!” he asks, voice louder. The quiet that falls between you two is masked by the rustle of surrounding trees, orange and red leaves falling around you two. The cool, autumn air brushes your face. His eyes sting with redness.
“Why don’t you tell me anything?” His voice cracks. The aching in your heart makes you want to give in, to take it all back. But you aren’t like Jake. You can’t adjust, can’t welcome change so openly.
So as you look at him with his slicked back hair and sharp features, so different from a year ago, it feels like you've already lost something. The version of yourself who had more to give than hollow excuses and marks left on his skin.
You couldn’t admit to it even now. That you hate who you’ve become. “I’m telling you right now,” you gulp, bracing your own words. “That I want to break up.”
And the first semblance of tears falls down Jake’s cheeks as he lets out a bitter laugh. He doesn’t believe it. Can’t accept it. He won’t let this be the end.
“If it’s because of what Choa said—”
Your brows furrow. “You heard what she said?”
His hands are in his hair, tugging at it with frustration. You seem angry, but he doesn’t know why. He never does.
“I told her to mind her business,” he explains quickly. “It doesn’t matter what she thinks. So if you’re breaking up with me just because she called you clingy or whatever…”
And he doesn’t know it, but the words trigger something in you. Something you’ve been pushing down over and over again. The feeling of seeming weak, of needing him. The need to monopolize. It sickens you.
“It matters what I think Jake!” you finally burst out. Frustration etched in your voice, shaky from the cold air and your wavering emotions. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.
“All I ever do now is wonder who you’re with, why you’re with them, and I just… I just feel so fucking lonely.”
He reaches for you, but you push him away. Your grievances spill out of you before you can hold them back.
“I’m paranoid of anyone who talks to you. I couldn’t even fucking watch you do that stupid kiss scene,” you continue.
“We didn’t even kiss!”
“That’s not the fucking point!” you scream, before you can stop yourself. You inhale sharply when he flinches. Calm down. This is not his fault. Why are you getting angry with him?
“I’m sorry,” you mumble, taking one more step back. He holds your wrist gently to keep you in place.
Jake stares at you with his lips parted, stunned. “So why can’t we just go public?” he pleads. “You wouldn’t have to feel this way if—”
“That’s not the issue either,” you scoff, but you can’t even convince yourself. Because isn’t this how it all started? Your unwillingness to be embarrassed, to seem vulnerable in front of others. Was this not the root of it all?
“Then what is?!” he cries, his grip on your wrist tightens, not to hurt you, but so that you don’t run. Because you’re good at that. Running.
“I get insecure too,” he reassures, but you look past him now. “But I tell you. I tell you when I’m hurt, I tell you when I’m down. Because I… I want you to understand me. I want to understand you too…”
He swallows hard before continuing. “So I don’t get why you would even bring up breaking up before we even try to solve the problem together—”
“Because I don’t want to solve it, Jake.”
His hold on you loosens instantly, arm dropping to his side. You feel colder as he steps back. Jake stares at you, hurt laced in his gaze. Like you stabbed him in the heart and twisted the knife in to marinate.
“...You're always like this,” he mutters under his breath. “Always saying hurtful things without thinking about how they make me feel.”
He feels his throat close up as he draws in some baited breaths. The tears come in more heavily, his cheeks damp as they roll down his pained face.
“So you see what I mean?” you say, your own tears threatening to spill over without you even realizing. A part of him instinctively wants to wipe them away, to pull you close and make it stop. But all he feels is anger. Because you’re the one breaking up with him. You’re the one choosing to end things. What right do you have to cry? What right do you have to look shattered when he's the one in pieces?
“I’m horrible to you,” you let out with pained laughter. He shakes his head immediately.
“No, you’re not—”
“I always pick fights—”
“You don’t—”
“I act like a fucking bitch—”
“Don’t call yourself that—”
"I feel like I’m insane when I’m around you,” you let out, before you can stop yourself.
“I don’t think that at all—”
“But I do, Jake,” you cry. “I hate how jealous I get when you’re surrounded by other people. I hate feeling like I’m holding you back. I hate what I’ve become since…”
And you can’t finish because his tears have stopped. He’s looking at you with a new kind of anguish. The kind that you don’t necessarily expect. The kind that feels like disgust.
“Since you started dating me?” he says like he correctly finished your statement. But that’s not what you're going to say. Never that.
“Since you didn’t need me anymore,” you whimper. “I’m not a good girlfriend, Jake. You’d be so much happier without me. Everyone would think it if they knew.”
He stands in front of you, hollow. If they knew. He has to laugh. That’s the problem. No one does. You don’t want them to. It’s clear now.
“Fine,” he says, and the steadiness of his voice makes you shudder. Good. This is what you wanted.
He’s staring at you, jaded like he had come to terms with it. He used to love how insistent you were about your point of view on things, how firmly you stood by your opinions. Used to envy it. But now, he detests it. That stubbornness.
“Whatever you want,” he sighs, hands slipping in his pockets. “Let’s break up. Pretend we never happened.”
Your mouth parts. “Excuse me?”
Jake scoffs, hands tightening into a fist. They’re trembling, but he won’t let you see. He can do what you do. Act like he’s okay. Act like you didn’t just kill him. He’s gotten very good at that. Acting.
“I’m being honest, Jake—”
“You don’t love me,” he cuts in. And your heart sinks. “That’s all this is. You never show it. You never say it. And I’m tired of hearing you pretend like you’re doing me a favor when I’m practically begging you not to leave.”
His voice cracks, but he continues. “So fine,” he mutters. “Have it your way. You won’t ever have to admit that we dated, start a clean slate without me. Just like you want.”
He presses his lips together and gives you one last look before he takes his hands out of his pockets. He’s fiddling with the ring. His ring. The ring that matches yours.
“You know,” he starts, voice trembling and bitter, “when it was the other way around… when I felt like shit about myself…. I never once thought of leaving you.”
His gaze is on the ground. “Because I always thought I was better with you than without. Because you made me want to be better.”
His voice falters. He looks at you now, sniffling.
“I tried to be better.”
And in one swift motion, Jake takes off the ring. “...But you didn’t even want me enough to stay.”
“Jake, no—”
But it’s too late. You see him throw it, the bushes rustling nearby. Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. He shoves his hands back in his pockets and walks past you to the direction of the dorms.
“There,” he says quietly behind you. “Like we never happened.”
He doesn’t look back, doesn’t even spare you a glance. It’s only when he’s fully out of sight that you dig through the orange and red pile of leaves, through dirt and branches. Tears stream down your face as you sob, searching for it like a mad woman. Pathetic. So fucking pathetic.
But you can’t find it. No matter how hard you try to find a silver glint in the greenery, there is nothing. And you clutch onto yours like it’s your lifeline. He threw it away. How could he throw it away?
And you wonder then if you made the biggest mistake in your life.
–
You thought the pit in your stomach would fade once you ripped the bandage, but the hole in your heart opened wider. And it’s only been a week.
Jake used to dodge questions about his love life, but now he admits to anyone with ears who walks by that he’s single. You have ears. And you walk by often. You’re not sure if he’s taunting you or if you just want him to be.
When your eyes meet his at the one lecture you still share, he’s the first to turn away. Jake used to sit beside you, shoulder brushing yours, tilting his laptop so you could keep up when the professor switched the slides too quickly. When you pass the football field, you try not to wince when you see Choa latch onto his arm like she belongs there. He used to always pull away.
The worst part is that these stolen glances are all you have of him. He’s blocked you on everything, which feels weird to think about. Jake, who’s always gentle, always forgiving, always offering second chances—even to people who don’t deserve it. Maybe this time you’re one of them.
You have no right to be upset. Not anymore.
And so you wrap yourself in your studies, check out new extracurriculars, even try to make new friends on campus who know nothing about Jake. You try to rebuild, try to go back in time before that fateful day in high school when you met him. But it’s been far too long.
He was a part of you, so deeply ingrained in your daily life. How could you act like you two never happened? Like your relationship never existed? How could he do it so well?
And then, you have to remind yourself. You'd already been doing that anyway.
–
“So what did he do?” Jay questions, tuning his guitar while Sunghoon and you sit in his living room. “Did he tell you he was done paying for your stuff or…”
“Shut up,” you grumble, already agitated enough as you scroll through Suji’s Instagram. You couldn’t even muster the energy to be jealous over a photo of Jake and her holding up peace signs next to each other. You just feel empty. “Nothing happened.”
Jay rolls his eyes. “He’s usually texting one of us to get you to answer his messages by now. It’s been crickets from him for the last two weeks.”
You swallow hard. He used to do that?
Jay’s gaze flickers toward you and sighs as he fiddles with his guitar strings. “You know, I really don’t get the two of you,” he mumbles. “Like you already rejected him in high school, you’re practically just stringing him along at this point—”
You sit up. “Excuse me?”
He shakes his head, dropping the guitar onto his lap. “Jake told us,” he starts hesitantly. “That you ran away when he tried to confess last year.”
‘But that’s not the full story,’ you want to scream out loud.
“Yeah,” Sunghoon laughs as if recalling a memory. “Dude! Remember in the summer when he started going to the gym with me?”
Jay cringes. “Yeah, and he told us it was because he’d be starting this season, but we knew it was just because you said you liked macho guys.”
You shake your head, ears warming at the thought. That’s insane.
“Oh, and that stupid ass ring,” Sunghoon adds, clutching his stomach. Your hand instinctively clutches at your necklace, fingers brushing the chain. “His mom beat the shit out of him when she found out how much he spent on it.”
You twiddle with the ring through your shirt. You should've taken it off by now. He'd already thrown his away. So what use was it leaving him if all you were going to do was hold on?
“Why would he do all that for me?” you mutter, not realizing that you said your thoughts out loud.
Jay shrugs. “Love makes you do stupid things.” And then he sighs. “Go easy on him, okay? You know how he is. Jake’s a sensitive boy. Especially when it comes to you.”
You look down at the ground, shame bubbling up in your chest. Jake loved you. He really did.
–
You smile from your view of the auditorium, even from the back, feeling like a speck of dust in the full house. A bouquet is in your hand as you nervously find your seat. Jake’s right. Everyone’s here to watch.
You could see Jay and Sunghoon’s tiny heads toward the front, pushing down the bitterness of not being able to sit as close as they were. It's not fair, you think. You had to buy a last minute ticket off a student who could no longer make it while they don’t even like musicals. You shake your head.
This isn’t about you. It’s Jake’s big night.
The lights dim. Your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—steps onto the stage in a football jersey that looks almost exactly like his real-life one. The audience quiets at his entrance. As he delivers his cheesy opening monologue, you mouth the words with him. He’d practiced it so much in front of you. Pride wells up in your chest. He doesn’t stutter once.
Even when Suji joins him on stage, even as they sing together during their characters’ first meeting, you couldn’t help but smile.
The scenes blur as you lose yourself in the show. You watch the characters as they are and not as your ex and the girl you desperately wanted to hate. It was actually fun. The cheeky glances, the perfectly rehearsed dance scenes. The way the main character so seriously thought that singing was going to affect his football career. It made you laugh, made you tear up, made you suck in a deep breath when Jake leaned into her.
And because you’re still you, and because the wounds still feel fresh, you close your eyes. You don’t have to know if he really did it or not. It doesn’t matter. It’s his moment.
‘If only I felt like this the whole time,’ you thought to yourself. Then maybe you wouldn’t have to psych yourself up to find him afterward and pour your heart out to him. You shiver at the thought.
But Jay had said it: love makes you do stupid things.
And you do. Love him.
Enough to buy him flowers. Enough to admit that you’re done hiding. Enough to risk asking him to love you again—even if there’s a chance that he already moved on.
–
“Bro,” Jay starts, with tear-stained cheeks. “Don’t ever do that again. I can’t be crying like that in front of everybody.”
“Quit football,” Sunghoon says, patting Jake on the back with unusually red eyes. “Just focus on this musical shit. I swear you could make it big time.”
Jake chuckles, watching as the auditorium empties of guests. “Thanks, guys. I’m glad you two liked it.”
God, he wishes you were here. He could imagine exactly what you’d say when you walk up to him, with a small smile you try to suppress. Saying good job while ruffling his hair. Trying to act like you didn’t cry like everyone else. Jake smiles, quietly, at his own thoughts. It’s ridiculous, coming up with hypotheticals when you’d already made it clear. You don't want to be with him anymore.
“Jake.”
His heart instinctively skips a beat.
When he turns, the air in his lungs escapes him. You’re holding a bouquet so big it hides most of your frame, looking at him expectantly as you push it towards him. His eyes widen, unable to speak or even take the flowers from you. Is he dreaming?
“You did a good job,” you say, trying to sound as genuine as possible, wanting him to feel your sincerity. “You killed it up there.”
“Thanks,” he says shortly, finally taking the flowers from your hands. He can’t help but stare.
“I—” you try to push out, but Suji rushes to the stage to tap Jake on the shoulder.
“Hey.” She smiles up at him. “We're heading out soon for the celebration. Did you still want a ride with me?”
“Damn, even musicals got afterparties?” Sunghoon mutters to Jay, who attempts to shush him.
Jake returns a smile. “Yeah, just give me a second.”
And when he turns around to look at you, to finally hear what you have to say, your eyes are glossed over. Maybe you’re too late. Maybe this is idiotic after all. It's been weeks. There's no guarantee he'll even listen.
“I just wanted to say congratulations,” you mutter, though you've changed the words you meant to say entirely. It's supposed to be: ‘I’m so proud of you. Will you take me back? I’ll stop being so mean. We can tell everyone we’re in love—yes, even Jay and Sunghoon.’
But old habits die hard. And Suji—beautiful fucking Suji—crushed every ounce of confidence you had to come up to him in the first place.
“That's all,” you say, shooting him a small grin. It doesn't quite reach your eyes. He notices. Jake always does. Just never knows the reason why.
Before you can step back, he grabs your wrist, spinning you into his arms. Like the male leads do in those stupid romcoms.
“Don't,” he whispers. “Please… don't run away this time.”
You stare up at him, searching his gaze.
“Man, what the fuck is going on…” Jay whispers behind the two of you.
Sunghoon shrugs. “You think they finally…?”
Jake turns his head to give a disgruntled look to his two idiotic friends, and they shrink, making their way down the stage to finally give the two of you more privacy. He turns his attention back to you, wrist still in his hand, and gently moves it down to take your hands in both of his.
“I thought you didn't want to come,” he starts, licking his lips through the nerves. “Why are you here?”
Your cheeks heat up. Fuck. Where do you even start?
He draws circles with his thumb on the back of your palms. “Why?” he asks again, more confident this time.
It would be easy to act like your old self and push out a half-assed excuse. That you just want to be supportive, even after you’ve broken up. That you don’t miss him at all. But you're too tired to pretend like Jake's absence in your life didn’t feel worse than when you were with him.
“Because…” you start, with a shaky breath. “Because I wanted to talk to you.”
His brows furrow. “About what?”
And you feel your heart pumping in your chest, your palms slick with sweat. This is harder than you thought.
“I wanted to—” You swallow, taking in a deep breath before continuing. “I wanted to apologize. With the ring. The one you threw away.”
You see Jake's ears turn a bright shade of crimson. “Actually—”
“But I couldn’t find it,” you cut in. “No matter how hard I looked. I tried. I really, really…”
You start to choke up. Because fuck. He'd gotten you that ring to confess to you. Spent all his pocket money so that he could get something he knew you'd love. Had it engraved with the letter J. Your Jake. Your handsome, talented, smart, and wonderful Jake.
“...really want to get back together,” you finally let out, eyes shining underneath the stage lights as tears threaten to spill over. “I'm sorry, Jake.”
His breath hitches, hands releasing yours so suddenly. Your heart clenches. “You broke up with me,” he mutters.
You nod. “I-I thought I needed to. To find myself. But… you were right. I was just running away from my problems.”
You swallow hard, correcting yourself. “Our problems.”
He lets out a bitter laugh. “So is this the part where you expect me to forgive you?”
Your heart clenches. “I'm sorry,” you say again softly.
“You still haven’t even given me a reason,” he scoffs. “So tell me why. Why do you want to get back together when—”
It’s like slow motion, what you do next. You cup Jake’s face right into your hands, crashing your lips onto his. In front of Sunghoon. In front of Jay. In front of the whole cast and crew who were packing up to leave. The same people he’s had to make excuses to about why he suddenly looked so distraught these past few weeks. You pull back, breathless.
“Because I love you,” you say, loud enough to elicit gasps from your watchers. You don’t even have it in you to be embarrassed anymore. Because the words fall naturally from your lips, like breathing. And it's like music to his ears.
“I fucking love you,” you repeat, hands still on his cheeks. His mouth parts open, breathless. He blinks. Once. Twice. And then he smiles, tears forming in his eyes. Jake swoops in, his lips finding yours again. His mouth moves against yours in tandem, slow and passionate. Your eyes flutter shut, soaking in the taste of him. You missed him so much.
When he pulls away, a shit-eating grin lights up his face. “Finally,” he whispers, cheeks flushed. “You finally said it back.”
You lightly swat his shoulder. You should've known he was trying to egg you on. Jake and all his damn questions.
“I love you too,” he mutters against your temple, squeezing you against him. “I love you so much.”
He peppers kisses all over your face, and you hear gagging on the sidelines.
“Don’t ever leave me again,” he mutters into your hair. “That shit fucking hurt.”
You smile sadly. “I promise—”
“YOU TWO WERE DATING?!” a familiar voice cries out. Of course. Nosy-ass Sunghoon. You resist the urge to drop kick him right then.
“I have a better question,” Jay pipes in. “Are we invited to this afterparty too or…”
Jake furrows his brows, turning to the idiotic duo. “What afterparty?”
Sunghoon and Jay bombard you with questions about your secret relationship, but mainly just start arguing about who was gonna call the taxi for the party they still desperately wanted to go to, since Suji had already left.
Running far away from the auditorium, Jake and you giggle as the two idiots try to chase after you. When you both reach his dorm, he doesn't waste one second after you close the door to lift you over his shoulder. You yelp as your feet lift off the ground, squeaking when your back hits the mattress with a soft bounce.
He sets the bouquet softly on his nightstand before hovering over your frame, and his knees sink into the mattress as he traps you underneath him. Jake strokes your cheek lovingly, his hand trailing down and down until it reaches the edge of your skirt. Still as short as ever. Thighs so pretty underneath the thin fabric.
“I missed you,” he sighs, hands trailing to the edges of your panties. He strokes your plush skin, sending shivers down your spine. You want to roll your eyes, deflect the warm stirring in your core as he scans your figure, eyes clouded with lust. But you’re supposed to be turning over a new leaf. Honesty and all that.
“Imissedyoutoo…” you mutter lowly, rushing through your words.
He moves closer, ear practically touching your lips. “Hm?”
You lose patience, baring your teeth and nipping his helix. He flinches, glaring at you with a playful scoff.
“You said you weren't gonna be mean anymore…” Jake sighs, tone dripping in mockery as he pouts. And you want to say something more, but Jake’s hands land on your ass, giving you a subtle squeeze.
You know what. You'll humor him. Just this once.
You bring your lips to the ear you just bit, kissing it lightly. Steady hands trail down the fake football jersey he adorns, and to the painful bulge of his shorts. Jake sucks in a deep breath. You chuckle, amused at how suddenly it hardens. So easy to arouse.
“Sorry,” you whisper, licking his outer shell. He shudders against your touch, your breath on his neck triggering goosebumps all across his arms. You squeeze him through the fabric, his head falling to your shoulder. “I’ll stop…”
“Don’t,” he lets out through ragged breaths, as you stroke him languidly. You chuckle. He’s so cute. Cheeks tinged with pink. It makes you want to do worse things to him...
“Lie down,” you command, and he gladly takes your place on the bed. Your knees encase him now, tugging his stupid jersey over his head. “Let me make it up to you…”
His muscles are so well-defined, glistening under the light of your dorm room. You trail kisses down his chest, licking down his abs. Salty. Just how you like him. Jake squirms underneath you as you tug his shorts down, his dick slapping your chin on the way up as it springs free. Jake almost cums from the sight, tip flushed red and pulsing with need. To feel you. To be so buried deep inside you that he can feel the head poking through your stomach.
When you move your head down to kiss his hardness, he digs his fingers into your shoulder. “No, baby,” he mutters. “Come up here, hm?”
You furrow your brows. Why the fuck was he trying to interrupt you during your apology?
“Wha—”
Jake cuts you short, manhandling your waist as his fingers press into your hips. He positions your knees on both sides of his head, turning you around. He pushes your mini skirt all the way up to scrunch around your midsection. Yes, you might have an amazing view of his throbbing cock, but now you can't see his beautiful fucked out face. He breathes in the scent of your panties with hooded eyes, nose grazing your clothed folds.
You pout. “I thought I was the one making it up to you—”
“You are,” he chuckles, interrupting you instantly. He pushes your ass down to his face with one hand, using the other to press your chest flush against his body. Your face inches closer to his member. Oh. That's what he's doing.
“Pervert…” you mumble, coyly reaching out for him. So thick and large that you need to use both hands to engulf him, pre-cum dribbling out of him as if on command.
“I am,” he mumbles, pulling your panties low enough to give him access to your cunt, lying just below your knees. He licks a stripe up your drenched folds all the way to your puckered hole. You wither against him. “Call me whatever you want, baby. Just sit on my face when you do it.”
Your hips land down on him softly as your thumb spreads his liquid down his engorged length. This position was new to you, meaning it was also new to him. But Jake moves expertly like the quick learner he is. He plants open-mouthed kisses on your folds, pink muscle lapping at your labia like a man starved. Your tongue sticks out to offer kitten licks over his tip.
But Jake hasn’t had you in weeks. And he knows what he wants. And it’s not the weak jutting you do against his face, or the shallow sucking you offer his engorged cock. No. He wants all of you. The sick part of you that would degrade him, that would rile yourself up like all those nights before. And he doesn’t want to have to mention a stupid nickname some stupid girl said to bring it out of you.
There were more healthy methods, he’s sure, to guide you right where he wants to be. And so Jake’s hands grip your ass, pushing you down on him harder. Forcing your hips to grind back and forth against his face at the rabid pace he sets, nose sticking in between your folds slightly as his tongue laps at your clit. Like this. Dirty. Raunchy. Aggressive. He fucking loves it.
“Ngh—” you cry out, propelling him to push himself deeper in your mouth. You take a deep breath so his cock can slide through more easily, taking as much of him as you can to drown out your warbled moans. Your tongue finds the underside of his thickness, tapping him as you start to gag. And when Jake reaches the back of your throat, he gives you a second to calm yourself before he bucks his hips up into you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, remembering to hollow your cheeks as he shoots forward. But it’s hard to stay focused when his wet, pink muscle pushes into you.
“Fuck—Taste so good, baby—” The squelching sounds that mix with Jake’s moans against your bundle of nerves are obscene, sucking and flicking his tongue with a fervor you try to match now. Your tongue curls up to meet the underside of his girth, bobbing your head up and down with ferocity. Anything to please him.
“Mmmm—” you moan around him. Your mouth feels so fucking good, but your pussy on his lips was like actual heaven. He could eat you out all day. As a reward. As a punishment. Anything.
And he breathes your scent in again, groaning once more. He pushes his nose closer to your folds, the tip of it engulfed in your wetness. You almost gag around his dick at the intrusion, saliva pooling at the base of his cock. You wrap your thighs around him tighter, bouncing on his face like he was nothing but a sex toy. Erratic. Desperate. Yes. Just like that. Fuck him like you never want him out of your sights again.
He knows you're close, knows by the way you start scratching at his thighs like an agitated pet. But, no. Jake needs it. Needs you to cum all over his face. Make a mess on him. Of him. His tongue plunges into you now, index finger coming up to play with your clit.
His cock pops out of your mouth with little resistance as your body goes slack with pleasure. You're just licking at his dick with a loose hand at this point, eyes rolling back from ecstasy.
You whimper against the slickness of his sloppy mouth, drool continuing to fall out of the corners of your mouth through your slurred speech. “Ngh—No—Let me—Fuck—Jakeeee—” you try to say, but it all sounds nonsensical.
Jake understands, more than you know, as his heart constricts so deliciously. 'My poor baby,' he thinks. Just wants to make him feel good. Wants to make it up to him so bad. But you don’t know that the only thing that could make him happy right now is for you to choke him out with your sopping cunt.
“Mmm—Ngh—Ahh—” He’s too good down there. Too fucking messy. Why does he do this? Why does he love making you sound like a fucking animal? Your toes curl, the grip around his shaft tightening as your back arches even more into him.
You feel it. But it's different from usual. It feels like too much. Like an impending explosion. You claw at his thigh even more, all of a sudden panicked. “Jake—Let go—Jake—”
When he shakes his head, his tongue swipes your clit left and right. His grip on your ass pushes his nose more deeply into your soaked folds. You whimper, cheek nuzzling against his length in desperation.
“I'm serious….” you whine as you try to pull away. This is weird. You feel weird. You try to run away from it, that foreign feeling. But it's no use. Jake's too smart, too quick. He presses you down on him harder, hugging your waist, suctioning your clit, cheeks flushed from how quickly his mouth works against you.
“JAKE!” you scream as your thighs clamp around him, hips shuddering uncontrollably. Like a hose turning on for the first time, a spray of your juices lands onto Jake's chin and neck, coating him in your dampness. He welcomes it, tongue sticking out to taste as much of it as he can.
You cry above him, tears landing on his dick that still rubs against your heated face. He laps up every last remaining bit of your climax desperately, like they’d dry up too quickly if he didn’t. You whine, grinding yourself on him to steady your heart rate. When he’s fully satisfied, Jake frees you from his clutches, lying you down on the bed so your head can finally rest on a pillow.
His cock is still incredibly stiff. And you're still in tears.
“You… fucking… dick,” you say in between sniffles, not believing you could ever climax that hard in your life. “Where the fuck did you learn how to do that?”
And he knows what’s going through your head. Because old habits do, in fact, die hard. And now you probably think he was out fucking anyone and everyone during the weeks-long hell that was your breakup. Jake chuckles, pulling your skirt down. He bites his bottom lip at the sight of your folds. Glistening with his saliva and your juices. He fists himself tightly.
“Still so jealous, baby?” He smirks. God, please let him indulge in his pouty girlfriend at least once more.
“No, but be honest,” you mumble. “Did you—”
“Fuck other girls?” he finishes your sentence, scoffing playfully at the ridiculousness. Your eyes narrow.
“Well, did you?”
Jake spent almost every day crying, unblocking and blocking your number over and over again just to see if you'd notice. But he can tell you all that later. Because right now, you're giving him a death glare that only makes his cock throb harder.
“No, babe,” he mutters, swiping his wet tip against your even more drenched folds. So puffy after all he's put it through. He peppers kisses on your shoulder. “You know I’d never.”
And you do. He’s only ever been with you. Will only ever be with you. You know that. But still. The wheels are already turning in your head. You know… you're usually the one worried about these things. Doesn't he deserve a taste of his own medicine?
“Imagine if I did—”
And he slams his dick into your plushness, eliciting a scream from you. He doesn’t even let you complete your evil plan.
“FUCK—”
“Don't finish that sentence,” Jake glowers, brows furrowed. You lick your lips deliciously. "That's not funny."
“See how it feels?” you whimper, as he delivers another harsh thrust, your shirt riding up your stomach from the impact. You arch your back off of the bed as Jake groans into your neck, licking a stripe up your jaw.
“All this just ‘cause I made you squirt,” he mumbles angrily, wincing as your pulsing walls squeeze his length into a tighter grip. “So fucking immature.”
You chuckle evilly. “Immature like who? Sungho—”
His childhood friend’s name doesn't even leave your lips when Jake clamps his teeth into your neck. Hard. “OW—”
A taste of your own medicine. But his skin grazes something then—a thin chain that he's seen before but never questioned. You never wore it when you fucked. A circular hardness underneath your shirt that weirdly looks like…
He tugs on it before you can protest, and there on the chain is a ring. With J engraved on the inside. His gaze softens. And you become a blumbering mess underneath him, shy with embarrassment. “I can—Explain—Just—”
Jake pulls out enough so his tip is the only thing suctioned in your folds before pistoning into you harshly once more. You whimper.
“Shut up and let me fuck you,” he mutters into your ear, before engulfing your lips in his. With a newfound energy, Jake pounds into you with urgency, pace brutal against your already sore pussy. His hand comes up to grab your tits, spilling over your bra from the impact of his movements. So rough. So mean. Damn, you were rubbing off on him.
You have this aching desire to flip him over and ride him back into submission, but the slapping of his hips into yours devolves your thoughts into unintelligible moans.
“Ngah—Fuck—Oh my god—”
Jake’s mouth leaves yours as his eyes travel downwards to the piece of jewelry. He likes how it looks on you. Sitting so nice between your bouncing breasts. Maybe, he’d buy you a necklace next. A pretty Tiffany necklace to go with the pretty Tiffany ring on his pretty girlfriend’s pretty finger. Fuck. You’re so fucking pretty.
He brings the ring up to his mouth, biting down on the metal, before he lowers himself onto your lips once more. With the ring in between his teeth, he grabs at your jaw to open for him. Jake transfers it over to your parted lips as you catch the ring with your tongue, coated in his saliva. He dives down into you, your tongues battling as the coolness of the metal moves between your mouths. His thrusts are slower now, but you moan just the same.
Drool drips down both of your lips, the ring getting passed between you two in the movements of your open-mouthed kisses. He lets up, the necklace falling wetly onto the pillow. He admires the red marks the chain leaves on your neck. Maybe a Tiffany choker instead?
And his thrusts deepen, until your cervix repeatedly kisses his mushroom tip. He wished you could see your expression right now. So needy. So perfect.
“Jake—Baby—” When the pet name leaves your lips, Jake lets out a deep, guttural groan. Like he'd been waiting his whole life for you to say it.
“Yes, baby?” He repeats after you, sweat beading down his forehead as he continues to split you open, pumping into your tightness with urgency. His hands are pushing your thighs open now, admiring how the ring sits sloppily on your neck as he jackhammers into you.
“I love you,” you moan out, your hands reaching for his face. “I love you so much.”
He looks at you with glassy eyes, soft and tender. He kissed you again, sweeter this time.
“I love you too.”
And he spreads you apart further, fucking you into the squeaking mattress with his pulsing dick, so big that it fills you everywhere you need him. He pushes in and out, evoking a new set of tears to stain your cheeks. “Baby,” you cry out. “I'm almost—”
“Wait for me,” he pleads, elbows falling to the sides of your head. He buries himself in the crook of your neck. “Can you, baby? Please—”
You try to nod as he's ramming into you as deep as he can go. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear, about how good you are for him, how pretty, how perfect, how he loves the marks you leave him, how he wants you to control him, how you’re the only one he’d ever be with in any lifetime ever.
“Ngh—” His hips snap forward with everything he can give. He feels it now, too. That coil that threatens to spill inside you. But he can't. No condom. No birth control.
And when your hips rise, clenching around him, your orgasm hits you like a truck. You mewl out in pleasure, crying as Jake tries to pull out of you. But you suction him so well, too well, that it's a little too late. He twitches deep inside of your pussy. And his mouth falls open as the first spurts of cum spill, but nothing escapes his lips.
“Fuck, baby,” he whines. He needs to pull out. But your cunt feels so damn good… So warm… So wet… And so much of himself has already spilled inside you… It's okay, right? To fill you up with all of it? But he has self-control. He swears it.
“No…” You whimper when he actually pulls away, his seed dribbling everywhere.
“...’m sorry, babe,” he groans, as his hand wraps around himself, stroking languidly. “I’m so sorry.”
Jake’s cheeks are flushed as he pumps the remainder of his climax on your drenched folds, painting your clit a milky white. He sees the first of his juices push out of you, his fluids like cream all over your puffiness.
“Fuck,” he moans, his fingers coming up to spread it all across your folds. But when you look down, all you feel is empty. All you feel is the need to push down against his fingers and take him all over again.
Jake's eyes widen as he lets out a shaky breath. You look so desperate. For what? He's not sure. But he can't deny his baby anything. He can't deny himself either. He wants to see it just once. Seems like you do too.
“Can I?” he asks in a low whisper, fingers spreading your folds apart to watch more of his load seep out of you. And you nod, shyly, relieved you didn’t have to beg for it yourself, already going through too much exposure therapy for one day.
And so Jake gathers the cum that's gushed over his digits, and with a shaky breath, he pushes them back into you. You tighten your grip on his biceps.
“Fuuuuck—” You cry out when he starts pumping them in and out, slow but still so fucking deep. His veiny fingers always know which parts to knead.
Jake’s eyes are in a daze, obsessed with how his cum goes back in so easily—even when you’re still so tight and so sensitive. Everything feels so fucking drenched. And like this, he wants to see you come undone again.
“One more, baby…” he pleads in a low whisper, pressing butterfly kisses on your eyelids. He licks the tears that spill from your eyes. So pretty like this. “You want to make it up to me, right?”
You can only whine in response, hands shaking as they clutch onto him for dear life.
“Hm?” He asks for confirmation, curling his fingers up to the spongy spot inside you. He grinds his palm on your engorged clit. Whimpering out a pathetic ‘yes,’ you let the pleasure overtake you once again. Your body feels like it's on fire. Too hot. Too much. But still, your back arches up into him, whimpering.
“Come on,” he whispers into your ear. Low and steady. “Give it to me.”
And you can practically hear the mess that his three fingers are creating as they pump into your folds, can feel the stickiness of your mixed juices coat your inner walls. But you shut your eyes, letting the warm tingling overtake your core. Yes—Right there—Fuck—
“I'M—” you screech, but it's no use. Your head falls back against the pillow as you sob. And Jake curses underneath his breath as you spray all over him once again, massaging your clit as he pulls his fingers out to watch. Your hips rise to meet nothing, just your body spraying so beautifully against his torso. His dick could harden once more any second now from the sight. He relishes in it, admiring his work as his cum pushes out of you again. Thick and creamy.
You look down too, seeing the fucked-out state he's put your body into. Maybe you would've been right to flick his forehead and call him every insult in the book for filling you up like that. But fuck. Could you ever have him cum outside of you again if it felt that good to have his cum inside you? No, you'd definitely need to get on the pill ASAP.
Jake’s gaze falls onto your face now, at your bruised lips and your dried tears. But the ring catches his eye once more, the one he hadn’t seen in a year. And his heart flutters.
“Babe?” he starts, lying softly next to you. He wraps you in his arms, not minding the dampness of the sheets below. He’ll clean you up later.
“Mmm?” You respond, on the brink of unconsciousness. Satiated. He touches your chain, the other hand wrapped around your stomach, giving a reassuring squeeze.
“How long have you been wearing our ring like this?” Your breath catches. You'd hoped that he'd forgotten, that the conversation could wait for the morning when your heart wasn't thumping so loud. It takes you a second before you respond.
“Since you gave it to me,” you admit, slowly. Jake can feel the warmth creep up to your ears. And he wonders how he's never seen it, how you seem to hide it so well after all the times he's undressed you before. But then again, you’ve always been good at keeping secrets.
Still, he smiles. Because even after you walked away, even when you said you were done, you still kept this piece of him. Wore it so beautifully around your neck, too.
Fuck—he’s never letting you walk out on him like that again. If you even hint at breaking up, he might actually end up begging on his knees and—
“Not like it matters anyway,” you cut through the silence grumpily. “You threw yours away.”
He lets out a surprised laugh and pulls you closer, squeezing you tight. You pout. What’s he so jolly for?
“What do you mean?” he asks cheekily. “That never happened.”
You turn around abruptly, facing him with furrowed brows. “I literally saw you—”
Your words are cut short when his mouth finds yours, one hand steadies your jaw as the other reaches blindly into his nightstand. A drawer opens. He pulls back just enough to show you the turquoise box, one eerily similar to the one you have in your closet, as he flips it open.
His ring. Silver and engraved with your initial. But how…?
“I guess I'm really good at pretending to throw things,” he answers before you can even ask. Thought I’d be a little dramatic that day…”
You smack his shoulder, but your hand massages the spot soon after, swallowed by the wave of relief that crashes over you. He didn't really let go like he made it seem. He was still yours, even when you thought you lost him.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!” you grumble, pinching his cheek. All he does is chuckle.
In one smooth motion, Jake lifts your necklace and unclasps it, letting the ring unfurl out and into his palm. You don’t stop him.
He looks at you for a second, as if asking for permission. You offer Jake your hand instead of speaking. He slips the piece of jewelry onto your ring finger, kissing your knuckles. Then he slides his own ring back where it belongs, to where he’s always kept it. Jake smiles up at you, planting another sweet kiss on your lips.
And you know you’ll wear it proudly this time. Without him having to ask.
“I love you?” he says, gently, like he needs to hear you say it back just one more time. Just to make sure. And you kiss him again, warmth coating your features.
“I love you too.”
His heart clenches in the best way possible.
Damn, he could really get used to this.
epilogue
Jake runs to the benches, grabbing at his water bottle like it’s his last salvation. He gulps it all down in seconds, sweat seeping down his body. Practice was way too intense today.
“Oh my god, Jakey,” a lilting voice punctures through his ear. “You're literally dripping.”
His eye twitches as she enunciates the last word.
“Choa,” he starts, shooting daggers at her. He's too exhausted to put up with this today. Or ever. She was graduating in a few months anyway. He might as well say his piece. “First of all, my name is Jake. And second of all, it makes me really uncomfortable when you say things like that.”
Choa pouts, tugging his sleeve like a toddler. “Why?” she giggles. “Do I make you nervous?”
“No.” He pulls away, not even bothering to look at her. “I just don't appreciate how you talk to me.”
She glowers, thrown off by his disposition. He's usually so sweet, so polite. What happened?
“It's ‘cause of your friend isn't it? You know she was so fucking rude to me—”
“My girlfriend,” he corrects immediately. Choa’s hands drop down to her sides. Jake pays her no mind, packing his stuff into his duffle bag instead.
“W-what?” she stutters out. “Since when?”
He shrugs, finally slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Since forever.”
“What?!” she screeches. “How come you never told—”
“Oh Jakeyyyy,” you sing out in an octave higher than your regular speaking voice. He presses his lips together to prevent the laughter that almost seeps through his mouth.
“Yeah, babe?” He calls out, looking past Choa. You're standing with your arms crossed, eyeing her down from a few meters away. A bright new necklace shining above your shirt.
Your gaze flickers back to him, not bothering to waste your precious energy on the small, vicious girl. You tilt your head to the side, beckoning him over in a silent command. And he follows.
Your loyal little puppy.
Jake takes your hands into his just to really rub salt on Choa's wound, your matching rings clinking against each other.
“Do you remember Gaeul from the backstage crew?” you announce proudly, the bob-headed girl long-forgotten. “She wants to hang out with me tomorrow!”
Jake smiles, ruffling your hair. “That’s great!”
“She's throwing something at her apartment this weekend, too,” you slide in. “Maybe… we can go together?”
“Oh yeah, Suji told me—” And he stops himself. But it’s too late. You’re already frowning.
“Okay, so let me go ahead and take Jay instead…” And he pouts at your words.
“Not fair,” he mutters, but you see the smile he suppresses. 'What a freak,' you think to yourself.
You click your tongue, squeezing his hand a little tighter. “...I'm biting the shit out of you later.”
And if Jake had a tail, it most definitely would’ve started wagging.
SUMMARY: Sunghoon was an up-and-coming figure skater with a bright future, but he threw it all away to marry you. Thirteen years later, your marriage has failed, the kids don’t respect him one bit, and all his friends are wildly successful in life except him. He gets a chance to correct the mistakes of his past and change his life when he is miraculously transported back in time, before he even met you. But changing the past might cost him everything.
A/N: This took me so long to finish y'all I started considering actually taking ice skating lessons. PLEASE read for my sake. (Some scenes inspired by the movie 17 Again!)
thirteen years ago.
Sunghoon took a deep breath as the chill air of the rink, even from where he sat in the locker room, sent shivers down his spine. His thin black blouse with rhinestoned sleeves did nothing to shield him from the cold.
He should have been used to it by now. But today would be the most important skate of his life.
The World Championships. The event that would decide his place at the next Olympics.
Just a few years ago, he had missed out on competing completely due to a knee injury. Sunghoon was determined this time to make his dreams come true. His seniors always said that Olympic ice felt different, more real. This would be it. His last chance before the younger, more talented skaters took his spot later down the line.
He was picking at his nails with his teeth, a habit he so desperately needed to let go of. Even with ten competitors ahead of him, Sunghoon was already on edge. You, his good luck charm, had not arrived yet. It wasn't typical of you. In your three years of dating, you never missed the opening skate of any competition he'd been in.
It’s where you first met. You had been in the stands, taping your phone number onto a penguin plushie he’d caught after his award-winning skate. Since then, it's been tradition for you to sit in the same exact seat during local competitions.
His left leg bounced impatiently as he sat on the locker room bench. Sunghoon has sent about 16 texts to your phone already. He shook his head, unlocking his phone for the umpteenth time. Crickets. His phone screen photo of you blowing a kiss into the camera was taunting him now.
Where the hell were you?
Coach Jung patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t think too much. You're gonna psych yourself out.”
“I'm not nervous,” Sunghoon replied, unconvincingly. “It's just cold.”
Coach Jung rolled his eyes.
“You're not new to this, kid,” he doubted the young man. “You're gonna do great out there. This is what you've been dreaming of. Just don't mess it up.”
Sunghoon didn't know if that was meant to be motivating or not, but when Coach Jung left, he felt a pit in his stomach start to form. It's been years in the making. Blood, sweat, and tears were poured into this. The time he could've spent going on longer dates with you all went to extra hours practicing quads in the rink. He couldn't let his sacrifices go to waste. It would be a disservice to both of you.
He put his hands to his face and repeated a mantra of self-affirmations.
‘You got this, you got this, you-’’
“Hoon?” He heard your sweet voice call out. Your head poked through the locker room door before entering cautiously. Audience members weren’t typically allowed in here, but you always managed to sneak your way in.
He dropped his hands immediately, a wave of relief washing over him.
“There you are,” Sunghoon whispered to himself, rushing to you as fast as he could with skates on the carpet. You let out a small sound as he picked you up by the waist, spinning you around like a princess.
“Where have you been?” Sunghoon sighed happily, setting you down with a kiss to your temple. “I was blowing up your phone! I thought you died.”
You smiled, but he noticed how tight it looked. The light didn't quite reach your eyes, and your lips twitched as if it was almost painful to maintain. He brushed a stray hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear.
“Everything okay?”
You nodded, resting your hand on his as his thumb drew small circles on your cheek.
“I…” you trailed off. You were looking at the ground, at the ceiling, and even at the trash cans. Anywhere but him. “I want to talk to you about something.”
He raised a brow. Your fingers were quivering, and he noticed redness in the whites of your eyes. Were you crying?
“Of course, baby. You can tell me anything.”
Sunghoon is worried now as he took both of your hands into his. He felt how cold they were, even more so than his.
“Can the remaining five acts please be on stand-by?” the overhead speaker blared into the locker room. That was him. He was one of the last five.
He pursed his lips as he looked towards the door and back at you. Your mouth opened, just as flustered by the announcement.
“Let's wait,” you said in a rush, noticing the sweatiness of his palms. “It can wait.”
Sunghoon shook his head. Your voice faltered. He knew better now not to let these things linger.
“No, [Y/N]. Tell me what's wrong.” He stood his ground. Your eyes were watering, his gaze unmoving from yours. As you spoke, it was like the world around him went still. His chest felt heavy, throat so constricted he thought he would choke.
“I'm pregnant.”
No, he thought. It can’t be.
“H-how? We never– That’s impossible– We always use-”
His voice trailed off, afraid that if he said anything out loud, it would become more real. You pursed your lips, biting your top lip so hard that it drew blood.
“Don’t you remember?”
two months ago.
You were laughing, he was laughing. You both looked insane, obnoxiously cackling at nothing, in the dimly lit streets that led to his apartment. You were drinking with the guys at a new bar, underestimating the power of tequila compared to the usual shots of soju.
Sunghoon's arm was wrapped around your waist, putting his weight on you to prevent himself from faceplanting on the ground. He had lost too many hands in poker with Jay and Jake, and instead of betting money, he took an extra four shots as punishment. It was a big mistake.
“They got lucky,” he blabbered, “If we played Go Fish, I would have wiped the floor with them.”
He was hiccuping, and that sent you into a further spiral of giggles. Sunghoon was always so darn cute when drunk, so different from his icy exterior. His cheeks were tinged with red, and his pupils dilated. You weren't doing all that well either, with your body so warm from the alcohol that you had shed your jacket on the ground just a few minutes earlier. Where that jacket was now is lost on you.
“Hoon!” you exclaimed, pointing at his apartment gate. “We did it!”
Sunghoon stumbled to get his keys from his pocket. Opening the gate and then going up the steps felt like an hour-long operation with how you two struggled. When he slid down the wall by the entrance of his apartment, you collapsed with him.
The two of you, by his coat rank, staring into each other with heavy-lidded gazes and too far gone to even turn the lights on. By then, your movements were already out of your control.
You traced the moles on his face like divine art, cradling his jaw with such care. Even in the drunkest of states, he looked so heavenly. He was so pretty in the moonlight.
You pressed your lips against his, slowly at first, tugging at the rolled-up sleeves of his button-up shirt. Sunghoon made a noise of shock before deepening the kiss, hands roaming everywhere until they met your waist. His lips were so plush against yours, hungry to taste every inch of you. Your tongues danced with an urgency you've never felt before. Nipping at your bottom lip, he coaxed small sounds out of you.
Sunghoon lifted you, firm hands on your bum to sit you atop him.
He broke the kiss to bury himself in the junction between your neck and shoulder. Sunghoon's lips found your pulse point, suctioning around it like he was drawing your heartbeat out of your body. You gripped his soft hair and tilted your head back to give him better access. He lapped at your neck, your collar bone, anywhere his tongue could access. He was addicted to the taste of your skin, to the taste of you. You always smelled so good, had him so riled up even in the most unassuming of moments. He remembered how you looked in the bar with this sparkly red dress. Remembered how it rode up every time you sat down next to him. Fuck.
You felt him then. The tent of his pants and the friction of his hips as they hopelessly jut up to meet yours.
You whined at the contact. He was palming your ass now with both hands, massaging as he moved you up and down on the tightness of his jeans.
“Hoon,” you gasp. “Not here-”
He lifted his head to look at you, eyes so dark and full of lust. He wasn’t having it; you could see it in his face. His deliciously tense jawline. The bead of sweat running down his temple. You felt yourself clench around nothing just at the sight. How could a man be so gorgeous?
“Can't wait,” he hummed. “Need you now.”
He pushed your dress up your body, the material bunched at your waist.
You purse your lips in anticipation. He’s rock hard by now, and you can’t help but take it as an invitation to feel him. Your hands find his bulge, ghosting over his form. It jumped in response when you finally took hold, squeezing cautiously. Your cheeks warmed at the sight of the front of his jeans already damp with your fluids. Sunghoon enjoyed the view just as much as you did, his head tilted back to relish in your ministrations. He couldn’t hold back any longer.
Sunghoon’s hand, large and veiny, moved your panties to the side impatiently.
"Hoon-" you gasped at the skin-to-skin contact.
His fingers traced the slit of your folds up and down, covering his digits with your slick. You found his swollen lips again to suppress your whimpers, saliva running down your joined mouths as you unzipped his painful-looking jeans. He was already prepping you for him, index finger cautiously pushing its way inside your plush walls. He groaned at the feeling of your fluttering warmth. Already, you were sucking him in.
“Always so fucking wet,” he muttered on your lips. You couldn’t help but grind down on him, a roundabout way of telling him to apply more pressure. To go harder. Rougher. To ruin you. He chuckled at your frustration. Needed to see more of it, more of you begging.
Sunghoon tested the waters and pushed in a second. Your moans were drowned out again by his merciless mouth. Tongues shoved so far down each other's throats, you swore you could feel him at the back of your neck.
He was fucking you onto his hand now, his palm making contact with your clit after every thrust. His forearm was tense, pace so relentless. Animalistic. You were practically bouncing on him, hands digging into his shoulder blades to chase your release. He loved the sight, wanting to hear you come undone just from his measly fingers in your dripping pussy.
“So desperate,” he hummed into your mouth. “Who's making you like this?”
Sunghoon was never this mouthy during sex, usually because he didn’t want the apartment next door to hear through the thin walls. But he had let go of all his inhibitions, the tequila still sitting fresh in his stomach.
“You, Hoon,” you cried out, legs shaking from the harsh pace of his fingers and your incessant grinding. “Please-”
You didn't know exactly what you were begging for, but you knew he could give it to you. Knew he was the only one who could. Your mind was filled with Sunghoon and Sunghoon only. The effects of the alcohol had made you a bumbling mess, pleading and begging for more. Your back arches to meet his fingers better, but it wasn’t not enough.
He added a third to relieve you, watching as your mouth opened into a silent scream.
“Hoon– Need it– Please– I need–”
You couldn't find the right words, couldn’t even keep yourself upright without his support. Sunghoon’s hands roamed up your body as one made its way to the back of your neck. With his thumb, he pressed down gently on the pulse point he was nipping at just earlier. His eyes were heavy on you, watching you so intently. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as your airways slowly constricted, as his thumb pushed against you. God, you loved the feeling.
“Enjoying yourself, baby?”
Lightheaded, you were practically gripping his bulge at this point. The sounds between your legs were borderline pornographic, his fingers drawing out every wet squelch as they sank and twisted in and out of you. You felt so full of him, three fingers so deep inside you. But you could take more; you wanted to take more.
“Speak up,” he drawled, his voice slurring from the tequila. “Tell me what you want, or I'll stop.”
You sobbed, clawing at his clothed chest as he let go of your neck to let you talk. You gasped for air as you let yourself fall onto him.
“Need you inside me,” you cried as he pistoned his fingers into you harder. You wished he could just rip your underwear so you could feel his rough palm grind onto your bare clit. “Please, please, pl-”
"I am inside you," he teased. And all you could do was wail, shaking your head out of distress.
"Hoon-"
Your movements were forced to stop as Sunghoon's free hand gripped your thigh. His fingers were curved into you, stroking that spongy spot that he always managed to find. He massaged your G-spot at a steady pace, anticipating your climax. You wanted to move, but he held you down roughly. Your eyes were forced to look into his, and you felt the floodgates of your release start to open.
“No-,” you whined.
You were close, so close. But your mind was made up. Well, at least what was left of it.
“Wanna cum with you. Can I, Hoonie? Please?” you beg.
“Fuck-”
His grip on you loosened. His hand slowly left your tight folds, and he admired the slick that coated his long fingers. He brought them to your mouth, motioning you to taste the juices he coaxed out of you. With your doe eyes looking straight at him, you swallowed around him. Tongue flattened and bringing him in deeper.
His other hand reached into the back of his pocket, fiddling around to find his emergency condom. The one that became a necessity to bring around you.
Sunghoon's mind was all over the place. Your tongue lapped at his fingers, sucking them so harshly. He'd have given anything right now to see your lips wrapped around his cock instead.
He'd almost grabbed the condom until you pulled his boxers down. Your mouth released his fingers with a small ‘pop’ as his painfully hard member slapped his stomach. You positioned yourself closer, adjusting so that his thickness slid against your soiled, clothed pussy. You cursed your stupid underwear for getting in the way again.
“B-baby-” Sunghoon stuttered out as you moved your panties to the side once more, his raw cock lined up to your aching hole. “Just give me a second-”
His hand tried to reach for his wallet again, but you interlocked them with yours instead. You shook your head, grinding against him cautiously. You don't know what's gotten into you. It's like the tequila was letting you act out your deepest, darkest dreams — ones of him fucking his cum so deeply into you that you were dripping wet with his fluids.
“Please?” you asked hopelessly. Your breath hitched. His cock met your clit, his precum spread all over your folds. Fuck it. You were too far gone. “I-I wanna feel you.”
Sunghoon would like to think he had self-control. Would like to believe that he was calmer than most. But the way your pleading eyes looked at him, and how your legs trembled in excitement. His intoxicated brain couldn't tell right from wrong. He wanted to give you everything you asked for.
“Fuck, are you sure?” he groaned as you aligned his cock to your entrance, pushing down slightly to envelop his tip. He lets out a hiss, teeth gritting from the feeling. You were so tight, so fucking perfect for him.
“Mhm,” you mustered, wrapping your arms around his neck as his large hands met your ass again. “It's okay…”
You were sinking onto him now, his head buried into your neck from the sensation. You two had never done it without a condom before, always so careful. But he wondered, as his large cock was slowly sucked into your soaked pussy, why he'd never fucked you raw before. Sunghoon swore under his breath as he felt you clench around him. Fucking you with a condom was ruined for him forever. He could never put one on again.
“Fuck, baby,” he willed himself not to move too fast. The stinging stretch of him had you withering above him, but you didn’t care. Not one bit. You clutched his hair as you impaled yourself on him, so lost in the feeling of him penetrating you so slowly.
He was fully sheathed inside you now. Sunghoon needed a second to recuperate, but you were making it so difficult for him.
"Fuck-" he inhaled sharply as you grinded down on his pulsating cock. You were so impatient, already so worked up from his fingers.
You were suctioning him, trapping him in your walls like you would never let him go. His grip on your hips tightened as he growled into your collarbone.
“Baby,” he said sternly this time, finding some semblance of sanity. “Don't.”
You whined, your hips stuttering through his tight grip on your ass cheeks. You wanted him to plow into you like you were his personal toy. Was there anything wrong with that?
“Why?” you drawled out, desperate for movement, for anything. Your eyes met his, and even through your drunken haze, you understood. He was close, already so on edge from feeling your raw pussy. And that made you want him even more.
You swore your hips moved on their own. You lifted yourself, shallowly thrusting yourself against him as he tried to hinder your attempts.
“N-no,” he grunted. “Too soon-”
You giggled as his hands were on your back now. Despite your protests, he did not stop you in any meaningful way.
His grip on your ass was replaced with him pulling the straps down of your dress and bra to free your bouncing tits. He cupped them as you raised yourself higher, until just the very tip of him was left inside you. You took a deep breath, pushing yourself down on him without assistance. You moaned, feeling his heaviness in your lower stomach.
“Fuck-” he cried through clenched teeth. Sunghoon’s head was against the wall now, hands massaging your breasts so eagerly.
He tugged at your nipples, pinching them between his index finger and thumb. Such a sight for sore eyes, seeing him so fucked out underneath you as you bounced on his cock. You wished you could engrave this in your memory. His parted lips and glistening forehead.
You grinded your hips so helplessly against him, hands on his knees as you squeezed him through every downward thrust.
“Baby, s-slow down.”
You're determined now, even as you start to feel that fluttering ache in your core. You wanted to do good for him, wanted to make him lose control like you would whenever he had you pinned to the bed and crying.
“Hoon, speak up,” you teased, mimicking his earlier words. “Tell me what you want or I-”
You couldn't finish your sentence as his hand meets the back of your neck, crashing his lips onto yours. His hands traveled down to your thighs, squeezing them roughly.
He thrusted up into you harshly, his grip on you guiding his movements. His pace was even more merciless than yours, not giving you time to catch your breath as you felt your inner walls contract around him.
No!
He needed to cum first. It was always you who came undone before him. You just needed to hold out, just for a few more seconds-
And in perfect timing, he found it. That part of you that had you practically screaming into his mouth. He smirked against your lips and hoisted you closer, fucking up into you as his fingers pressed firmly into the flesh of your thighs. Your insides churned with a tingling feeling, like something needed to be released. You pulled yourself away from his lips.
"No… Hoon-"
"Take it," he grunted. "You want it, right?”
You cried as his thrusts grazed your G-spot over and over again, his tip kissing your cervix at the right angles.
“So fucking take it."
Your eyes roll back, the sensation was stronger and stronger until-
"Oh my god-"
Your climax hit you like a ton of bricks, crashing down on you so unexpectedly that your walls wanted to hold his raw length in place. Sunghoon continued his thrusts, not caring for the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. You had your fun. Now, let him have his.
His hands spread your ass cheeks apart, guiding you down onto his painfully hard cock with fervor. Sunghoon felt his high inching closer as he pumped in and out of your wetness, ignoring your cries of overstimulation.
“So fucking tight,” he groaned into your neck. He's there. He felt it. You braced yourself for his sweet release.
“Need to pull out...”
Your eyebrows furrowed, expression laced in devastation. As if on instinct, you clenched around him. You wanted it. Whatever ‘it’ was.
“In me,” you babbled through strained moans. “Please, Hoonie?”
He grit his teeth. That damn pet name. You were evil, so fucking evil. With your pretty tits and batting eyelashes. Who was he to deny you? His thrusts were erratic, admiring as your breasts bounced to the rhythm of his thrusts.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fu-”
His hips stuttered up into you. White, hot spurts met your cervix as you reached another orgasm from the sheer feeling of his release, mouth wide open. Your hips gyrated against his, easing both of you through your releases. His head rolled back, jaw clenched, and eyes wired shut as he felt you milk his cock of everything he was worth.
You watched as a white ring formed around his cock was buried deep in you, still a little hard. You rested your body against his. Your eyelids were heavy, so content and warm in ways that only Sunghoon could bring out in you.
“I love you,” he sighed into your hair, his own lethargy getting the best of him. “So fucking much.”
“I love you too.”
And as ridiculous as it sounds, the two of you slept in that position for hours. Two bodies connected at the entrance way of Sunghoon's studio apartment. When the sun came up and you realized what was done in your drunken states, you two panicked for the wrong reason. Did the neighbors hear? What happened to your jacket? Were you gonna get a UTI?
Sunghoon's cheeks reddened from the memory. It had to have been that night.
“A-are you sure?” he stuttered.
You nodded solemnly. You knew it wouldn't be good news for him. It wasn't for you either.
You were almost done with university. It’s supposed to be the year you figured out what you wanted out of a career. So when your first wave of morning sickness hit you just a week earlier, you knew every plan that you had would be forever ripped from your fingers.
To travel the world. To start new hobbies. It would all have to wait. This would be your life now.
When you told your mother, tears streamed down her face. She called you everything underneath the sun. But she knew what it was like to carry a life unexpectedly, so she hugged you through it. Your dad’s reaction was worse. He hadn’t spoken to you yet.
“Two months along,” you whispered. Though he could never regret that night, he realized now how stupid it must have been to ignore the alarm bells in his head. He knew better. You knew better. Why the fuck did it end up like this?
“So…” He gulped. He didn’t know what to say. “What now?”
“I…” you started. Heaving a deep breath, you felt him tense up.
“I want to keep the baby,” you swallowed. Sunghoon’s mouth was parted, and his eyes were blank of emotion.
It made you anxious, his lack of response.
When he didn't reply, you started again. “What should we-”
“Sunghoon Park. Sunghoon Park. Please be on stand-by,” the overhead speaker rang out. He didn't mean to, but like muscle memory, his hand let go of yours. Guilt crashed over him, and he couldn't bring himself to look into your wavering eyes as he walked past you.
The competition. This was his last chance. Coach Jung's voice resounded in his head. Don't mess it up.
“Hoon-”
Your voice fell on deaf ears. His hands covered his face again, trying to refocus. He couldn't throw this away. Years. It took him years to get to this point. He couldn't. He had to skate.
Tears spilled over as you watched his back retreat away from you. You should have waited to tell him, but he had asked. He said he wanted to know.
Your back slumped against the wall of lockers, clutching your stomach as you cried. You couldn't bring yourself to go to the stands and watch him perform.
You knew it was dumb. You weren’t ready, not even close. But still… You wanted to try.
But him. Sunghoon.
You leaned your head back against the cold wall, breath faltering through your tears. What did you even expect? That he'd be happy? Excited?
You let out a shaky laugh.
Of course not. It's not like you were either.
You stood up, dusting yourself off.
You'd figure out a way to do this, you convinced yourself. If it meant that you were by yourself, that was fine. He didn't have to be there. He had big dreams, ones that predated you. You understood, even though it hurt.
“Next to skate, representing the People's Republic of Korea. Sunghoon Park!”
The cheers that ensued soon after made your chest constrict just a little more. You just couldn’t bear to watch him skate now. It was all too much.
You trudged towards the ice rink's exit, arms crossed around you like you were holding yourself. You were proud of him, so proud. He worked so tirelessly for an opportunity like this. Missed sleep and took a gap year from college to pursue this. He wanted it so bad, and though it was heartbreaking to watch him walk away, you knew why. You could talk later, you convinced yourself.
But the thoughts still echoed in your head.
A professional figure skater couldn’t be a father—not now, not at his age. You knew that. God, you hated that you knew it so well. His life wasn’t what most people imagined. There was no glamor in it.
It was practices at the crack of dawn in freezing rinks and endless flights to cities he barely saw beyond hotel rooms. He could only fund basic living expenses with what little he earned from winning. He had a part-time job working the graveyard shift at a convenience store to even afford competition fees and dates with you.
He gave everything for this dream—his body, his sanity, his youth.
But he tried. In everything he did, he tried. That was the worst part.
Because even with all that trying, you still knew. That there would be no space in his life for the tiny heartbeat inside you.
You knew he'd have to quit. There was no way around it. Raising a child takes too much time away from the rink.
If he stayed, if he chose to be in this child's life, he'd have to give it all up.And it would be because of you.
But this was your life too. Your body. Your future. And no matter how tightly you clung to the image of him at your side, holding your hand in the delivery room, learning how to hold a newborn with trembling fingers—you had to be honest with yourself.
You wanted this baby. Even if it meant letting him go, even if that meant standing alone with a life you never planned for, you’d do it.
Because you knew that if it ever came down to choosing between his dream and you, it would always be-
“[Y/N], wait!”
You stopped in your tracks, stunned to hear his voice so close. Like he was here and not on the ice. You didn’t even notice that music stopped permeating the walls of the rink, that the announcer had moved on to the next contestant. He was running to you, socks thumping on the ground like he had taken his skates off only a moment before.
No. It couldn't be.
He reached you, his arms wrapped around you from behind. You heard his shaky breath against the back of your head. His thumb rubbed your forearms, planting a small kiss on your hair.
“We'll figure it out,” Sunghoon blurted out when he felt like the silence between you two was suffocating. “Together.”
You turned around to face him, panicked.
“Sunghoon, no,” you tried to push him away, but he pulled you in closer. “You need to go-”
“No.”
You looked at him, pain etched in every part of his beautiful face.
“But that's your future,” you cried out, mustering everything in yourself to not melt in his embrace. He was making a mistake. He'd hate you for the rest of your life if he-
“No,” he said again, much clearer. More determined. “It’s you.”
His hand drifted to your stomach, and he smiled this time as he looked into your teary eyes.
“You're my future.”
You shook your head incessantly. “Hoon, you're not thinking straight. I should've waited to tell you. You're not in your right mind. You need to go back and-”
He silenced you with his lips, so soft—like it might break you if he were any less gentle. You fell into his touch, unknowingly pulling him closer. He kissed you again and again, hands holding yours until your tremors faded with his touch.
“I love you,” he would say between each peck. “I'm not letting you do this alone.”
And you smiled, a real, genuine smile.
“I love you too.”
You moved in with him in that tiny studio apartment, shortly after, sharing a bed that barely even fit his tall frame. The cradle he built took up the majority of the living area.
But it was nice, waking up with him every day. He talked in his sleep, would whisper your name in that sweet voice of his so lovingly. Some days, Sunghoon wouldn't let you lift a finger, would insist that you needed as much rest as possible before your due date. You had to convince him that your job as a receptionist was certainly not so physically taxing that he had to follow you to it every day.
You also got married. It was simple. Just Sunghoon and you in a courthouse with Jake and Jay, trying not to stifle their laughter as witnesses to your marriage ceremony. You wore the white dress your mother wore, and Sunghoon wore his best suit, tie tied by you.
“Say cheese!” Jake chimed as you two posed with your signed certificate. The two of them cooed at your growing belly.
You were showing now, a small bump that Sunghoon admired each time he saw you do your online classes on the kitchen counter. He never got around to buying a desk, even though he was also back in school full-time.
He had that dreaded conversation with Coach Jung beneath the dim lights of an empty rink. Sunghoon told him quietly, almost like an apology, that he’d be hanging up his skates until further notice. He wanted to be there for you at every step of the pregnancy. If he was going to stick beside you, he was going to do it right.
Coach didn’t yell. He didn’t need to. The disappointment on his face said everything.
And so Sunghoon hadn’t touched the ice since.
He couldn’t bear to set foot in that rink anymore. Not when he knew he’d only be watching from the stands.
Not when the sound of blades carving through the ice was coming from someone else’s skates.
Not when he used to relish in the cold air passing through his body. Now, the only wind on his face came from passing cars as he biked to his second job.
He picked up a shift at a nearby restaurant. Just as a server. The kind of job that reminded him how painfully ordinary he was without his skates. Sometimes, when no one’s looking, he’ll shift his weight just right and practice his landings in the break room, arms out, knees bent.
Other times, he scrolls through YouTube during his graveyard shift at the convenience store, searching up his own name with trembling fingers, watching old performances through a phone screen. Reading comments. Trying to remember what it felt like to matter to people he never met.
You noticed, probably more than you let on. You just tried not to pry. He would get distant when you mentioned it, like that part of himself needed to be tucked away and out of his sight. You knew he was afraid, terrified to look back and see everything he gave up.
But when Sunghee was born, it was like his world started to make sense again. He held her like she was made of glass. Sobbed so loudly the first time he saw her, you thought he was in pain.
But no, he was just overwhelmed. Taken by the way her tiny hand curled around his finger, how her cries quieted the moment he held her close.
He’d protect her, he swore to himself. That this—her—wrapped up in the pink hospital blanket, was his life now.
And maybe, for a moment, he believed that was enough.
But the thoughts never stopped. His eyes would flicker toward the old duffel bag in the closet, where his skates were still packed away. He gave that up. For you. For her. And he’d never say he regretted it. But you knew.
You understood what he was grieving. Because you grieved too.
That girl who used to dream of making art, she felt like a ghost now. Someone you used to know.
Your passions, the things that once lit a fire in you, now sat gathering dust. All shelved quietly the moment your body became a home for Sunghee.
And your parents. You were still trying to reassemble the broken pieces of your relationship with them. Your mother tried to be there for you in her own way, but her disappointment was loud in the quietest moments between you two. And your father… well, he still hadn’t really looked you in the eye since the day you told him.
And though she was born healthy, Sunghee came into the world screaming. She was a loud baby, inconsolable most nights, and the exhaustion had tested Sunghoon and you.
You took turns because you had to. He’d rock her until sunrise, then stumble to his classes. He started falling asleep during his breaks at work, cheek pressed against cold metal tables.
He didn’t care much for his own health, but the bags beneath your eyes pained him. Your face, once bright and curious, had dimmed under all the sleepless nights and rising costs of diapers. You were both burnt out.
He dropped Sunghee off with his parents for one night and dragged you out to see your friends. It was Jake's going-away dinner.
“It’s so hard to meet nowadays,” you sighed. “Feels like I’ve been nursing a migraine for the past three months.”
Jake laughed.
“Sad I won’t get to see her grow up,” he said as he poured himself a beer. “Make sure to bring her to Australia one day. She deserves to see her coolest uncle play football.”
Niki rolled his eyes.
“No one’s paying for that long-ass flight to see you benchwarm,” Niki mumbled, chewing on some chips. “Have her come see me dance instead. At least I’ll be in the center.”
Jake smacks his friend on the back of the head.
“No need for any of that,” Jay chimed in. “She won’t have time for either of you. Papa bear here probably already has her future all mapped out. Skates on before she can walk.”
An awkward silence filled the room. The joke was lighthearted, but it landed too close to a wound no one had dared to touch in the past year. Sunghoon gave a quiet laugh, a hollow one without warmth. He brought the bottle to his lips and didn’t look at anyone when he spoke.
“Yeah... she’ll be a star.”
He eyed the ceiling, pondering what she would look like. Maybe just like him. Graceful. Passionate. “Olympic-worthy. Could probably win gold if we find the right coach early enough.”
You pursed your lips and stared at the condensation running down your glass.
Sunoo cleared his throat, noticing the tense atmosphere. He raised his glass with forced enthusiasm. “To our beautiful Sunghee,” he cheered. “And to Jake’s success!”
Sunghoon smiled, but not really. He was happy for his friend, sure. But behind his facade, envy sat heavy on his tongue.
‘This night could have been for you. They could have been congratulating you. And you gave it all up. Now look at you. You’re a nobody.’
You couldn’t help but watch him throughout the night as he grew quieter, his sips of beer more like chugs now. You rubbed circles on his back like you always did when he got like this, hoping to bring him back into the conversation. But his eyes stayed glued to the back corner of the bar.
As you patted him, he pulled your wrist away. Not harshly. Not angrily. Just a simple tug. He set your hand back on your lap, his gaze straight ahead and away from you.
“I’m okay,” he assured you, but you didn’t believe him. Not then.
Not ever, really.
Though time passed, life never got easier. The weight of responsibility pressed harder on your shoulders with each passing year. And while you both smiled through milestones and made do with the small hiccups in your relationship, you were content with this life. Doing laundry on lazy Sundays, Sunghoon singing nursery rhymes to Sunghee before school.
But after the birth of your second child, Sungjae, it had all started to rot.
Sunghoon’s longing for his old life never faded. It stewed in him, creeping into his thoughts at his corporate job after finishing university, haunting him on bus rides home.
The bills piled higher. Your patience wore thinner. Conversations turned into quiet disagreements and tired sighs. You no longer fought. You didn’t even have the energy for that. Just two ghosts of your former selves moving through the same rooms, sleeping in the same bed, wondering what could’ve been.
thirteen years later. the present.
Sunghoon adjusts his tie, furrowing his brows as he sees how crooked it is from the reflection of the mirror. He gives up halfway through. Fuck it, it would be a no-tie kind of day. He exits the bedroom, his footsteps making loud echoes on the way down the spiral staircase and towards the all-marble kitchen. He inhales slowly as he smells the fragrance of smoked spices dancing around his nostrils. It was enough to make his mouth water.
“What's cooking, good-looking?” he says, entering the kitchen with a wide grin on his face.
“Ew,” a voice rang out, soft and disgruntled. Sunghoon turns the corner and almost laughs at the sight.
“Shut up,” Sunoo scoffs, clad in an apron and silk pajamas. “Don’t say corny shit like that in my house until you get your act together.”
Sunghoon takes a seat on the barstool of the kitchen counter. He watches Sunoo maneuver the wide expanse of the kitchen like an expert.
“I'm a dad,” Sunghoon sighs out. “That’s kind of our thing.”
“Yeah, one going through a divorce,” Sunoo snaps back, monitoring his frittata closely on the stove.
Sunghoon's shoulders slump. Of course, the only friend willing to let him stay for an indefinite amount of time was the one most critical of his life choices. Sunoo insisted, in fact. Said his place was “feeling empty” anyway.
“So,” Sunoo coughs, acknowledging he might have taken it too far with his earlier comment. “Any word from her about the court date yet?”
Sunghoon shrugs, eyes on his watch as it nears 8:30 a.m. He'd have to leave soon to get to work. His boring, dull job as a fiscal manager at blah blah blah corporation. Even he barely knows what he does for a living.
“Can I borrow your car?” Sunghoon asks, ignoring his friend's question. He doesn't like to talk about it. Doesn't want to speak anything into existence, even if it was already happening.
You asked for it two weeks ago. A divorce.
He's been living with (mooching off of) Sunoo since.
“Which one? The Bugatti or the Ferrari?”
Sunghoon gives Sunoo a side-eye, and the younger fails to stifle a laugh. He never wastes a second to flex on his friend, the only one out of their friend group who worked at a 9-5 job in total and absolute misery.
Heeseung's a streamer, Jay took over as CEO of his father's company, Jake was still playing football in Australia, Jungwon started his own Taekwondo studio, and Niki was traveling the world as a choreographer. And of course, Sunoo wound up in a big old mansion with his modeling career.
Sunghoon thought he'd end up like them. He got the right experience after university to find a stable job that didn't involve slaving away at customer service gigs like he did before.
He thought he'd move up higher in his company by now. Have a team to call his own, like Jungwon had, or make “small, high-impact decisions” like Jay claims he does. But none of that ever came. His heart was never in it.
Sunghoon sighs.
“Whatever gets me from Point A to Point B,” he mutters. Sunoo cuts a piece of frittata from the skillet and plates it. He slides it over to his older friend and tosses a key from his pocket.
“Take the Kia Soul.”
Sunghoon groans. “You're fucking with me.”
“Mr. Park,” his coworker chirps into his ear. “I was wondering how your KPIs were this week…”
Sunghoon lets him drone on as he types on his computer. No private office, just a cubicle by the elevators. He hates how people tend to gravitate towards him for small talk. He's not very good at it. Never has been. It was a common joke within his family that he skated more than he spoke growing up.
You dragged him out of his shell when you met, cracked him open with your bright-eyed gazes and addictive laughter. He’d planned to keep his head down when he was younger. No distractions and no detours. Just figure skating.
But how could he not fall in love with you?
He shakes his head, trying to push the thoughts aside before it settles in too deeply. He reminisces too much.
It’s like the past is all his mind drifts off to these days.
He leaves work on time. Gets stuck in traffic, like usual. And drives to the home you two once shared. A routine he's used to by now.
He sees your car in the driveway and groans. He knew if he sees you, you'd bring up the papers again. Those stupid fucking papers.
“Hey, kiddo,” he says as he enters the once-familiar home. You've made changes to it since he's been gone. He squints to get a better look. In just two weeks, the kitchen's completely repainted with a soft green instead of gray. The living room was completely rearranged, and family pictures were taken down from the walls.
Sungjae is sitting on the couch, playing with his iPad. He only looks up for a second before he gets back into whatever is playing on his device. Sunghoon knew he should have hidden that thing before he left. Or, he guesses, before you kicked him out.
“Where's your sister?” he asks, practically into the void.
As if on cue, Sunghee walks down the stairs. Her eyes are already rolling, and she's still wearing her pink pajamas and bunny slippers.
“Get dressed, princess. We're gonna be late for your practice!”
Sunghee tsks.
“C'mon,” Sunghoon adds with a forced smile. “You missed the last two practices already. You're gonna fall behind-”
“Dad, I already told you I want to quit,” she cuts in. “Can't you just take a freaking hint?”
Sunghoon stares blankly at his daughter, trying to hold back the irritation bubbling beneath the surface. Sunghoon doesn’t know where she gets the attitude comes from. It's like when Sunghee hit the age of 13, she morphed into a walking stick of dynamite with a terribly short fuse.
“Well,” he begins, voice tight but even. “Why don't we push through it for today, hm? You know, back in my day, I wasn't always up for the challenge, but-”
“We get it dad!” she groans. “'Back in my day' this, 'if I were you' that. No one cares!"
It stings him more than he cares to admit.
"Sunghee," he says, slower this time, the edge creeping into his voice.
She just scoffs at her father's serious expression. She's never been scared of him when he's angry. That was always your role.
"I’m not going," she stands her ground, crossing her arms. "You can't make me. If you wanna go so bad, then go to that stupid ice rink by yourself.”
Sunghoon inhales sharply, planting his hands on his hips to seem more assertive.
From the couch, seven-year-old Sungjae snickers.
“Listen here, young lady-”
“Listen here, young lady…” Sungjae mocks, in a tone much like his father's. Sunghoon whips his head to his iPad kid.
“And you, young man-”
“Sunghoon,” you say sternly as you appear at the staircase. “I already called to cancel. Indefinitely. Even if you take her now, she won't even be able to join the other kids.”
Sunghee sticks her tongue out at her father, prancing to the couch to pinch her younger brother's cheeks.
He blinks, brows knitting together. “What? Why would you do that without telling me?”
"Sorry, was that a decision that needed your approval?" you ask sarcastically. "You can't make her do something she doesn't want to do."
Sunghoon scoffs, pointing an accusatory finger at you. But he stops himself. His gaze flickers to the kids, who pretend like they're not watching from the living room.
He swallows down whatever instinct tells him to argue right here, right now. You two never fought in front of them, an unspoken rule. Even if you were technically separated, he would not break that now.
“Let's talk in our room,” he whispers closely, and you roll your eyes.
“My room,” you correct, already turning to head back up. You don’t see it, but he tries not to flinch at your harshness.
He closes the door behind you two, the air thick with tension. He starts again.
“Why are you making decisions without me already?” he asks, trying to keep his tone level. “You cancel her figure skating classes and repaint the kitchen? Why are you-”
You sigh, already tired.
“We've been talking about repainting that ugly kitchen for years, Sunghoon,” you sigh. "You never wanted to actually get started on it. Sorry, I actually make time for the things I want."
So this is the direction you wanted the conversation to go in? Fine. He can be passive-aggressive, too.
"And Sunghee? Didn't you think to run that by me when I’m the one that pays for those lessons?"
You grit your teeth. He sees where Sunghee gets it from now, your hands crossed over your chest in disdain.
"Have you tried listening to her about practices? She gets injured all the time! Coach Jung is horrible to her. She’s miserable-”
His jaw tightens. “You don't think I was too? Half the time, I hated skating! But that’s what it takes. You think greatness just feels good all the time?! And the kitchen was fine. I don’t get why—”
"She's not trying to be great, Sunghoon!" you cry exasperatedly, your hands thrown up into the air. "She's not trying to be you."
You point your finger at his chest. “And you always think everything's fine. Until it's too late.”
Your words hung in the air, his eyes meeting yours.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he says finally, quieter this time.
You retract your hand, nervous under his gaze. It’s intense, familiar in a way that still sends sparks throughout your body, even now. Even after everything.
“Stop trying to force your dreams onto her,” you finally let out, and you see his eyes waver. "Just because it didn't work out for you doesn't mean you can try again through her."
“That's not what-”
“Look,” you interrupt him, turning away from him to face the wall. “All I'm saying is that maybe this is your wake-up call. Things change. Not everything that you want is going to happen. Maybe learn to change with it.”
He scoffs.
You turn back around to face him. He's angry, but his face doesn’t give it away. It’s his trembling hands, how his posture straightens just a little too stiffly.
“A little too late to change when my whole life was already laid out for me,” he says through bated breaths. “It’s not like I ever had a choice where I’d end up.”
Your heart sinks. “And it's all my fault, right?”
Sunghoon’s eyes flicker, his gaze softening at your hurt expression.
“I didn't say that-”
“But it's what you think, right?” You try to look strong. You think of all the nights he lay awake replaying his old skating clips in the glow of his phone screen. The way he cheered for Sunghee during competitions, like his voice alone could ignite the passion she didn’t have. The muffled sniffles from the shower after the last Winter Olympics ended. You saw it all. You always did.
Sunghoon is silent, and you fight the sting in your eyes.
“I never asked you to marry me,” you say as low as a whisper, cutting through the silence.
“But I did,” Sunghoon says quickly. Desperately. “And I wanted to.”
You draw out a laugh, bitterness dripping through.
“I'm so sorry, Sunghoon,” you say, sarcasm spilling over your lips. “I'm sorry this isn't the life you wanted. But newsflash: you're not the only one living with regrets. ”
He steps forward, but you move back. The weight of everything presses against your chest now that the words are out. Now that it’s not just his pain taking up space in your relationship.
“You act like you’re the only one who lost something,” you say, softer now. “But I gave up things, too. I had dreams too.”
You don’t mean it cruelly, and he doesn’t take it that way. But it hurts, still.
"And I'm done walking on eggshells around you just because you can't stand the fact that you aren't living the life you wanted.”
You take a deep breath and continue.
“If I knew this was how we'd end up, we should have never even met-"
His hand hovers over your cheek. His lips, so dangerously close to yours. “Stop it.”
His voice is shaky.
“Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
You don't pull away, but your gaze does not waver. “I mean it. Genuinely.”
You don’t see Sunghoon’s heart break at that moment. But he feels it. Feels the tightness in his chest, the way his throat closes up, like your words were enough to kill him.
“When did you become so cruel?” Hurt laced his voice.
“And when did you start resenting me?” you bite back, but the words barely escape your throat.
He doesn’t answer, just leans in and kisses you. And you let him.
Because maybe this is the last time you’ll feel him like this. Maybe this is the last tender moment you two will share.
His hand lingers at your jaw, thumb brushing gently over your cheek. You feel your own breath catch, and for a second, you almost melt into him.
“I love you,” Sunghoon says, but it sparks nothing in you.
Instead, you hear everything he didn’t say. He didn’t say no or that you were wrong. So maybe he really does, you thought to yourself.
His kisses almost make you forget. Almost enough to blur out the long winters and how distant he gets. How painfully silent he is at the dinner table, eyes always somewhere else.
His lips guide you through it all, each kiss igniting a memory.
How his shoulders sagged the day he started that full-time job. How his smile, once so quick to bring out of him, turned into something you had to search for. How the light in his eyes, so blinding when he was on the ice, dimmed, little by little.
His hands trail under your shirt now as he peppers kisses down your throat.
“I miss you,” he sighs.
How he’ll wake up in the middle of the night and leave without a word, how you’ll see his location is at the ice rink, probably watching the Zamboni circle around. But he'd never bring his skates with him.
His lips meet yours again, deeper this time. His knee finds its way in between your legs.
You couldn’t do this anymore. It’s been far too many times, letting him wiggle his way back into your good graces. This was it. You would choose yourself this time.
Your fingers close around his wrists, gentle but firm. The warmth of his skin against yours nearly breaks your resolve, but you force yourself to meet his eyes. Even though it hurts.
“I think you should leave.”
You release yourself from his hold. Sunghoon's expression is unreadable, but you know by now it's a facade.
You could not carry his pain with you any longer. You needed him to let you go, just as much as you needed to let him go.
“Baby...” he starts, voice fragile.
“Don't,” you say quickly, lips pressed tight. “You can't call me that anymore, Sunghoon.”
His heart aches. He was supposed to be Hoon to you. Your Hoon. When did that change?
But he doesn't ask. He just watches you, eyes dark and full of all the things he never figured out how to say until it was already too late.
“The papers...” you pause, swallowing hard. You see a flicker of panic flash across his face.
“They're on the kitchen counter. Take them before you leave.”
Sunghoon did not take the papers.
In fact, just like Sunghee suggested, he went to the so-called “stupid” ice rink by himself.
He sits in the highest row of the stands, arms crossed, jaw clenched. The kids glide around the ice below. Parents he used to talk to are filming on the sidelines, their laughter echoing faintly off the cold, hard walls.
Envy coats his skin.
Coach Jung is barking commands at the kids. He sneaks glances up at Sunghoon every so often, trying to be subtle. But he knows what that look means. It’s pity.
At one point, Coach Jung had pulled him aside to tell him that Sunghee wasn't built for the sport. Not like Sunghoon was. She was too stiff, too in her own head about spinning in the air. She never cracked a smile when she was on the ice. She always kept her head low and movements small, as if it was still scary for her after years of practicing.
It's not like Sunghoon didn't notice, but he always thought she’d come around to it. He was pushed into figure skating by his parents, much like he was doing for her. It wasn’t like his passions ignited overnight. ‘It could be her dream if she let it be,’ he thought to himself.
Why couldn’t she let it? Why wouldn’t she even try?
Sunghoon sits in the stands, even after the kids pour out one by one and the lights start to dim. Coach Jung offers one last, forced smile before disappearing into the locker rooms. Sunghoon stays until he’s the only one left under the lights.
The Zamboni comes in, shaving and washing the ice to be used for the next day. When the machine finishes, the driver climbs out and heads up toward the stands. He's in his early twenties with blonde hair and dark eyes. He's moving towards Sunghoon with a smile.
Sunghoon stands up, a little intimidated by the younger man. His back turns to go up the stairs and to the exit, wanting to avoid a conversation.
“You're always here at night, sir,” the guy calls out. “Do you have a special connection to this place?”
Sunghoon stops in his tracks. He used to get recognized all the time. On the streets and in this very place. He used to mean something.
He turns around and gives a polite smile to the young man. He points at one of the many banners that hang from the ice rink walls. “Park Sunghoon” was in bright gold colors on each one.
“I used to train here,” he says, with a hint of pride. “National champion for ten straight years, from when I was 11 up until I was 21.”
The guy whistles softly, impressed.
“We could use you, you know?" he says. "I think they’re looking for a new coach. Heard the old one's retiring soon.”
Sunghoon flinches. “Coach Jung? He hasn't told me yet. My daughter trains with him.”
He can't bring himself to use the past tense with her just yet.
The young man just nods. "I think he's planning to announce it after the next competition."
Sunghoon feels his chest constrict. He shakes his head. Another person leaving.
“I guess everything’s changing…” he whispers, but it did not fall on deaf ears. The stranger moves closer to him. "We're all so old now."
The stranger sighs. “Youth can be so cruel, can't it?”
Sunghoon, in his confusion, scoffs.
“The opposite, actually,” he argues. “Life's easier when you're young. Anything was possible back then.”
He takes a second to continue.
“And it all can be taken from you,” he mutters, more to himself. “Before you even realize it.”
“That's the worst, isn't it?” The young man chimes in. He's sitting where Sunghoon was earlier. “When you wonder what could've been…”
Sunghoon’s mouth twists into something like a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“That's all I think about,” he said, surprised at himself for opening up to a stranger. And it's true.
What if he hadn’t stopped skating? What if you hadn’t gotten pregnant?
He sits back down, next to the Zamboni driver.
“We all have regrets,” the young man says, looking ahead, voice soft.
Sunghoon stares up at the ceiling and lets out a breathless laugh through the silence. Flashes of you overcame his vision. Nights of hushed arguments and facing away from each other on the bed. Nothing went his way after the World Championships. He lost it all. His passion. His dreams. You.
“Why does it have to be that way?” he asks no one in particular.
A silence fills the room. The blonde turns his head to face him. “Maybe you could live a life without one, Park Sunghoon.”
He stills for a second.
“How did you know my na-” And as Sunghoon turns to face the stranger, he is met with nothing. Like the man was never there in the first place.
He's driving in that ugly, neon green Kia Soul, making his way back to Sunoo's egregiously large mansion.
Sunghoon's grip on the steering wheel tightens every time he checks the rearview mirror. He can’t shake the feeling like he’s being watched. That guy… the way he talked, like he knew him. Not just his name, but everything underneath.
But screw that guy and whatever cryptic bullshit he was spouting. Screw his perfect friends, rich and successful. Every time they reunite, it’s like a reminder of everything Sunghoon’s not.
And screw the way Sunghee and Sungjae don’t even look at him like he matters. He tries. God knows he does. But they don’t know him. Don't know who either of you were outside of being their parents.
And you know what? Screw you and those damn papers too-
SCRREEEEE.
In an instant, his world is spinning out of control. Airbags deploy as Sunghoon jostles in a car that tumbles with him. The last thing he remembers is flashing lights and the loud sound of a crash. A sharp pain shoots through the left side of his body, and he feels as if he is coming in and out of consciousness.
Sunghoon's eyes blink open, but he's not lying where he thinks he should be. It’s not the inside of a casket, nor is it a hospital room ceiling. He lies there with a cold and familiar feeling.
Ice.
Instead of the wrinkled suit he threw on that morning, he’s wearing sweatpants and a fitted black top. Not a scratch on him. No blood, no bruises.
Was he dead?
“Is just one axel hard for you now, kid?” a voice calls out.
He recognizes it almost immediately. Coach Jung. Sunghoon sits up, yanking his gloved hands from the coldness. What the fuck was happening?
“Get your ass back up and do it again,” Coach Jung shouts from the sidelines. The music starts again. Sunghoon’s eyes flutter shut, and he swears it's muscle memory. He knows this routine. The one from that night. The night he met you.
He moves. Instinct takes over. Jumps, spins, the sharp sound of his blades cutting clean into the ice. Every turn and landing exactly where it should be. He’s smiling from ear to ear now, almost childlike.
And if he were dead and this was the last thing he'd ever experience, then maybe dying wasn't so bad. He’d stayed off the ice for years, terrified that if he felt this weightless feeling again, that his regrets would consume him.
“Perform like that and you'll win no matter what,” Coach Jung calls out as the music fades. Even breathless, Sunghoon felt like he could do ten more spins across the ice. His heart was racing. Everything felt so real. The soreness of his muscles, the cold air against his skin, the echoes of Coach's voice.
“What day is it today?” Sunghoon asks abruptly. "And what year?"
He’s pinching his wrist now, nails digging in and almost drawing blood. He flinched. It hurt like hell. Was this not a dream?
“Kid, did you hit your head when you fell?” Coach Jung laughs.
And when he says the exact date, Sunghoon's confused. It wasn’t like today was anything special. Just a random Tuesday. So why would this moment, 16 years ago, be where he ended up after crashing his car?
Looking at the reflection of his younger, more athletic self in the mirror, he just couldn't believe it. No matter how much he slapped his face or banged his head against the locker room door, he was still here. In this younger body.
He's walking home from practice now. His phone buzzes in his pocket of the boys’ group chat, the old one they used to fill with dumb inside jokes before you and the other significant others joined the group. But your name is yet to be in his contacts.
And then he remembers. It’s three days before you’re in the stands of the smaller national competition he won many years ago.
He’s not one to panic, but his thoughts are running in circles. Did he actually go back in time, or is this all in his head?
He sees someone in his periphery. A man around his age, standing near the curb, waving. Casual. Like they’ve met before. And they have.
The Zamboni driver.
He has a sinister smile, one that sends shivers down Sunghoon’s spine. Sunghoon doesn’t hesitate. He marches forward and grabs him by the collar. “Who the fuck are you? Is this happening because of you?”
The man smirks, clearly amused.
“You wanted to try, right? A life without regrets?”
Sunghoon glares at him, confused. “What?”
“Park Sunghoon,” the blonde says sternly. “This is your last chance. Use it wisely.”
Before he can respond, the man shoves him back.
“What are you talk-”
And as he blinks, the stranger disappears. His head starts throbbing uncontrollably, and ringing sets in his ears. He hears a voice then, yet he can’t recognize it.
“What will you choose in this life?”
Even as the reality of everything he left behind starts to settle, he feels a strange sense of calm wash over his grief.
He knows what to do.
three days later.
Sunghoon sees you in the corner of his eye as he’s tightening his skates. You’re sitting with your friends, ones who had encouraged you to come and watch him. Back then, he was all anyone on campus could talk about. The quiet freshman with Olympic dreams who just missed his opportunity last year. He was skating harder than ever, pushing himself to the edge. Skipping classes. Shutting out everything but the rink.
Until you came along.
He remembers your first date. He'd asked awkwardly, “How come you like me?” because he genuinely didn’t understand.
It’s not like the plushie you threw was the first with a phone number taped to it. Not even the tenth. He got plenty of confessions growing up, but he wanted to know why. What made anyone interested in an introverted and one-track-minded guy like him? He had no hobbies outside of figure skating, no real conversation skills that went past awkward greetings.
Yet, you teased him with that Cheshire grin of yours.
“How could I not?" you say so casually as his heart bloomed. "I’ve never seen someone pour so much love into what they do until I met you. You know what you want. I admire that.”
Your words stuck with him. He’d never forgotten it. And even now, those words echo in his chest as he skates to the center of the ice.
The music starts, and he lets himself get lost in the rhythm. As he glides across the ice, there is nothing on his mind. He just takes it all in. The roar of the audience. The sound of skates hitting ice. It’s all he ever wanted.
The routine, like in the past, was met with a standing ovation. The screams of those in the stands overwhelm him. He goes to each section of the rink, bowing as tears threaten to spill over. It’s all too much. And not enough.
Then, he reaches yours. Sunghoon finds you in the sea of people like he did before. Your hair is down, and your face is softer. He chokes back on his tears, so enthralled by your beauty. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.
He bows, more deeply than to the other sections.
You throw that stuffed penguin through the air at the perfect time as it lands by his feet. And as Sunghoon rises from the bow, your eyes are on him again. Expectant.
You don’t know him yet. Not really. You aren't aware of the pain to come. The fights. The distance. The way he’ll drain all the color from your life.
As he turns to move to the final section, he catches a flicker of sadness in your eyes. A frown is present on your beautiful face. He wants to make it go away, but he can’t. Not in this life.
And so the penguin sits on the ice, lifeless, as he skates off the rink.
That night, he skips the afterparty. He goes straight to his shitty studio apartment, the one with the thin walls and peeling paint, and collapses on the bed.
He buries his face into the sheets, the fabric dampening his sobs. The crowd’s cheers still ring faintly in his ears, but now it all sounds hollow. He screams then, into the mattress, at the thought of Sunghee and Sungjae. His babies. The only pieces outside of you in his old life that made it worth fighting for. Would they ever exist in this version of his life?
He tries to steady himself. Tells himself this was for the best. That your life would be easier without him as your words echoed in his head.
"If I knew this was how we'd end up, we should have never even met."
No years wasted, no sacrifices stacked on top of each other until they became resentment. No nights spent worried about bills or appeasing your parents, who never really quite liked him.
He wants to believe he’s doing you a favor.
But the tears don’t stop. Not when he thinks about the weight of Sunghee in his arms the first time he held her. Not when he remembers teaching Sungjae how to read with his tiny hands clutching the book, his eyes lighting up at each new word.
He’s letting it all go. All of it.
This was supposed to be his second chance. To live his dream without regrets. To see what it felt like.
And it felt like hell.
The next few nights were abysmal. Practice became unbearable. He wasn’t eating. He wasn’t sleeping. His body hit the ice harder whenever he missed a spin, which was every time at this point. Coach Jung eventually pulled him aside, clearly frustrated.
“Go home, Sunghoon. Straighten yourself out and get the hell off my ice.”
But home didn’t feel real. None of this did.
He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t keep skating like this, not when every turn reminded him of you.
Sunghoon had to see you. Just once. Just enough to know you were okay. He told himself the kids would still exist somehow, even if your love story started differently in this version of life. That thought was the only thing holding him together.
He freshens himself up to go to campus, not having touched his backpack in weeks. He remembers your route like the back of his hand. Morning coffee at the cafe just off campus, right before your 9 AM. He will intercept you here, at this corner of the street.
Sunghoon's in a black turtleneck, wearing the glasses you would always steal off of him. The one that made you squirm under his intense gaze. The air was chilled, and his hands were buried deep in his navy jeans. He sees you coming into view, and he almost extends a hand to wave.
But he sees him, too.
Beomgyu. Your ex. The one who would ask your friends how you were doing, knowing full well that you were married with kids. The one who eventually became a guitarist for a band he would pretend not to like. Sunghoon had asked you to block him from everything before, and you complied. It hurt to admit that his insecurities were still present even now, in another life.
Sunghoon hides behind a tree as he watches you two struggle through the cold. Your shoulders are close but not quite touching. He feels his heart rate accelerate, his lips pursed to prevent himself from saying anything that would compromise his hiding spot.
“Beomgyu, you don’t have to walk me to class,” he overheard you say with a laugh. “I’m okay, really.”
Sunghoon’s hands balled into fists. Why did your voice sound an octave higher than it usually does?
Beomgyu had the nerve to laugh, and it took Sunghoon everything in himself not to jump out.
You once told him that Beomgyu was your first love. Your high school boyfriend. You had ended things on good terms at the end of high school to find yourselves in college.
“Good,” Sunghoon once said. “Because you found me.”
And now here you were, looking happy. Grinning from ear to ear. What was there to smile about?
“Doesn’t this remind you of old times? You used to stuff your hands in my pockets-”
And though Sunghoon almost wills himself to leave the spot behind the tree, he doesn’t. Because he needed to watch this. Needed to watch you live the life you would’ve had without him. The easier one.
He sees it now in the way your nose would scrunch to laugh at Beomgyu’s jokes. How you playfully hit the boy’s shoulder and hide your giggles with the sleeve of your puffer jacket.
Maybe that’s why the stranger had chosen this year. To taunt him.
Look how happy someone else could make her. Was he the only reason why you were miserable? How much did he really hold you back?
And so Sunghoon steps aside, shoving his hands back in his jeans. The icy wind cuts through his reddened cheeks. He asked for this. And he’ll have to live with it in this life.
Sunghoon turns around to give you one last look. But he also sees Sunghee, in her Elsa costume for Halloween. Sungjae asking for a mountain of kimchi at every restaurant. Your hand reaching for his across the dinner table.
He’ll have to live with it.
In the next three years, Sunghoon put his all into skating. He is consumed by it. Throws himself into it like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.
His professors have to send him emails to remind him not to neglect his studies. His mother scolds him for missing holidays at home because he travels so much for competitions. But Sunghoon doesn’t care.
He loves figure skating. Loves the endless cheers from the crowd when he lands a clean program. Loves the headlines, the trophies lining his apartment shelves, the constant buzz of being "the nation's pride." It’s everything he knew he wanted.
But, there’s always that one seat in the stands. The one you used to sit in during his competitions, holding up a handmade banner and shouting his name louder than anyone.
Now, the face in that seat changes all the time. Some new fan. Some stranger holding a sign that doesn't mean anything to him.
He tells himself the past doesn’t matter. That this version of you, the one who laughs in cafes with Beomgyu, who’s always posting photos from new cities, new hobbies, new lives, wouldn’t even recognize the girl he remembers.
The girl who used to sit cross-legged on his couch, studying while he iced his ankle. Who wept with joy the night he won first at an international competition.
Now you’re in a photography club. A painting class. Pottery? Really?
You travel more now than you two ever did in your 16 years together. He scrolls past your updates with a numb thumb, telling himself he’s glad. He guesses that he did the right thing.
And every time he walks past you with Beomgyu, smiling with all your teeth, it lingers. Those damn words are repeating in his head again.
"If I knew this was how we'd end up, we should have never even met."
Now he gets it. He guessed that he held you back from so much. Look at you with your wonderful friends and the amazing life you live without him! He scoffs. You deserve it.
You adjusted to him and his demanding training schedule, canceling plans with people so that you could maximize the time you had with him in the rare chance that he was in town. Maybe Beomgyu never would’ve asked you to sacrifice like that. Maybe he would’ve waited for you to come home from your clubs, instead of dragging you to cold rinks and rushed meals together in between practice sessions.
Sunghoon's fine. He swears on it.
Wake up. Go to class (if he feels like it). Skate for hours. Push through the pain. Go home. Cry into his pillow. Rinse and repeat.
The Olympics are a year away. The World Championships are in two months.
And the night you two conceived Sunghee is tomorrow.
tomorrow.
He wills himself to stay home, even when the boys suggest he hit up a few bars and clubs. It's the weekend after all.
But Sunghoon is used to making excuses by now. Blames it on his training schedule, his diet, Coach Jung. Whatever would get Jake off his back.
So when Sunghoon hears a knock at his door, and three boys pull up already reeking of alcohol, he’s surprised that he finds himself in that exact bar where he promised himself he wouldn’t be.
It’s just like before. Same music, same sickening smell of spilled tequila and too much cologne from Heeseung. And, as always, he’s bad at poker. Worse than he remembers. He’s downing a shot after every loss until his head is spinning and he can’t remember the rules anymore.
“I’m gonna… go… pee…” he tries to say, but his words get lost in mumbles and drooping eyes. He miraculously stumbles towards the restroom and does his business in the urinal. He’s dousing his face with water after barely washing his hands, and he smiles at his reflection. God, why didn’t he want to go out again?
Sunghoon exits the restroom, shaking his wrists to expel the water from his hands. And his breath catches. He sees you.
Your back’s to him at first, your sparkly red dress riding up on the stool just like it was that night. You’re laughing at something the bartender says. And he swears for a second, time stops.
Maybe it’s the alcohol. Or maybe it’s the years of missing you bottled up too tight. But he starts walking over before he can stop himself.
“Hey,” he says plainly, elbow hitting the bar. You turn towards him, eyebrows raised in curiosity.
He'll be different in his first impressions this time. More experienced and confident than the shy fool he was when he met you. He'd match this new version of you, too. Show you what you were missing out on.
There’s a confused smile on your face.
“Hi.” He looks at you more clearly, his vision impaired from leaving his glasses at home and the tequila shots in his system.
“You come here often?” He’s too out of his senses to stop himself from saying it. But he doesn’t regret it because you laugh. He does too.
“You say that to every girl, Park Sunghoon?”
His heart skips a beat. “You know my name?”
You roll your eyes, taking a sip of the cocktail that the bartender just handed you.
“Call me a fan,” you smile up at him, and he swears he could have melted right then and there. “Your face is everywhere.”
Sunghoon licks his lips, his mouth suddenly dry.
“I wish I could see more of yours,” he grins. “I think I’d skate ten times better if I saw you in the crowd.”
You scoff jokingly. “And here I thought winning was enough for you.”
It should be. It was supposed to be.
He promised himself he wouldn’t do this. That he’d leave you alone. He would let you go about your life, forget him, and be who you wanted to be. Who you should have been before he came to your life.
But here you are, impossibly close, and every part of him is begging not to let you go.
"You... you single?" he asks, trying to be casual. But his voice catches at the end. He wants to know. Needs to hear from your own lips if you actually chose Beomgyu in this life.
Relief washes over him when you shake your head.
"Wouldn't be talking to you if I was," you say with a teasing grin. Electricity shoots through him as he watches you. Too bright, too much. This short conversation, one he never planned on having, could never satisfy him. He could never get enough of you.
“Do you wanna get out of here?” he asks before he could stop himself, arm outstretched for you to take. Your face stiffens, and he almost thinks you’d say no until your fingers wrap around his arm.
“Where to?”
You barely make it past his front door before he has you up against it. His hands hold yours above your head, pinning your body against his. Sunghoon’s lips move against you ferociously, an unending battle between your tongues. You try to match his movements, but he is starved beyond belief.
You have no idea how badly he missed this.
Three years since he last heard you speak to him. Three years since he’s felt your lips. And the last time was when you asked him to pick up some stupid divorce papers from the kitchen counter. He needs this. Needs this more than breathing, more than eating, more than skating.
Sunghoon lifts you to wrap your legs around his middle. His hands find your bottom, giving a gentle squeeze that has you arching into him. He didn’t want to scare you, but he couldn’t will himself to stop. Your scent was too intoxicating for his mouth to ever leave yours.
You tap at his chest to push him away softly. With bruised lips, you whisper, “Can we go to your bed?”
He could almost moan just from the sound of you. His sweet, beautiful wife. Still so perfect for him.
His grip on your ass tightens as he maneuvers you through the studio apartment you once shared, laying you softly on the bed. Sunghoon wonders why you two just went at it like animals at the entrance way when the bed was only a few steps away back then. This time, he would savor it. Savor you.
He follows you down as he trails kisses on your neck. You crane it for him like you used to, giving him access to your most sensitive spots. His hands trail underneath your dress, teasing the hem of your panties. He looks up at you, silently asking for permission. All you could do was nod, opening your legs wide for him to continue. His dick twitches in his pants. You drive him insane.
Sunghoon peppers a few more kisses on your collarbone as his index finger prods carefully at your clothed pussy.
“Already soaked,” he whispers into your skin, pressing the pads of his fingers onto your underwear. Liquid courage still very much in his system.
He feels bold right now, eager to impress. He doesn't know who you've been with in this life, but he'll make you forget them all. Fuck you so good that you forget those experiences. Remind you that he's your husband for a reason. His fingers hook the side of your ruby red panties, gliding them down your plush thighs.
“I bet I’d go in so easily, huh?” his drunken voice slurs out. "So fucking wet."
When you nod again, he tsks. So silent, and for what? His fingers find your clit, ghosting over it. You arch to lean into his touch, but his hand retracts.
“Use your words, baby,” he says darkly. “Whatever you want, I can give it to you.”
You groan, eyes shut in frustration. “Can’t you just fuck me?”
He laughs. Always so uncharacteristically vulgar when horny. He loves it. He loves you.
“Can’t I get a taste first, baby?” he says, his face already inching downwards. He pulls your dress all the way off you, so that your breasts are finally exposed. Your satin red bra matched your panties like they were made to be seen tonight. He didn’t know why that fired him up so badly.
Would another man have you like this if he didn't make a move?
He dips his head between your thighs, latching his mouth onto your clit. You gasp at the suddenness, not knowing how much you’ve angered him just from your underwear choices. His tongue moves downwards, lapping at your folds like a man dying of thirst. His hands pinned your legs to open even wider, and you writhed underneath him.
“Please-” you beg, hands gripping his hair as his tongue plunges into your wetness. Sunghoon’s eyes roll to the back of his head at the sensation. He could never, ever forget this taste.
He pushes his tongue in and out as deeply as he can with his curled tongue, grinding against the mattress for any semblance of stimulation.
He would make love to you tonight. Until you remember who he was. Until you remember the life you built together.
His tongue does one agonizing lick all the way up to your clit, and your back arches just to feel him better. He’s sucking it harshly, tongue flicking at it in all the right ways.
“Sunghoon-” you cry out, your feet digging into the mattress to push your hips up to meet his ravenous lips. He pulls away and glares up at you. Your hips fall.
“Why’d you stop?” you whine, pushing his hair back down to your core. It takes everything in him not to laugh. He adores you like this. Desperate for him. Needy for him. Shaking in pleasure for whom? Him.
“Don’t call me that,” he whispers into your inner thigh, nipping at it slightly. He chuckles at your confused expression. “Hoon. If you’re gonna moan my name while I fuck you, I need you to say it properly.”
Your cheeks warmed. Heaving out a groan, you nod your head anyway.
“H-hoon,” you test out. “Can you please continue?”
He smiles mischievously. “With what?”
You huff out in frustration. “I swear if you don’t fucking make me cum right now I’m going to-”
And his lips smash down on yours to shut you up. His hands replace his tongue as his middle finger draws figure-8s on your clit. He pulls your slickness from your folds and up to that sweet spot, relishing in the indecent noises between your legs.
Your moans are muffled by his tongue, body twitching underneath his. You taste yourself, so sweet on his lips as he caresses the most inner parts of your mouth. So dirty and so wet. He knew every part of you. Knew what made you cry, knew what made you scream. And fuck, he will make you scream.
He pulls away from you to admire his ruthless pace on your clit.
You are clenching around nothing as your nails dig into his shoulders. He coaxes a gasp out of you as a coil in your stomach starts to form.
“Want me so fucking bad, don't you?” he teases, his other hand on the nape of your neck. Sunghoon tilts your head down to show you the mess you were making.
His sheets are stained with your arousal, and his fingers are drawing circles on your bundle of nerves with such fervor. You catch a glimpse of his painfully clothed member.
He was right. You wanted him so desperately, wanted to feel him inside you at that very moment. Your breath hitches. Fuck. You felt something building.
Your hips start to rise again, and it’s hard to formulate a sentence.
“Hoon! Oh my god– Fuck it’s– It’s–” You cry out as Sunghoon’s pace quickens, motivated by the sound of your moans. His other hand tries to anchor your thighs down. You feel it as you start to lose vision in your eyes. His thumb is rubbing so intensely that it draws a whine right out of you.
The coil inside of you snaps.
“Fuuuck…Ngh…”
A wave of pleasure washes over you, and you feel your juices coat your folds, dripping more than before.
You're squirming underneath him, thighs twitching from the stimulation. He slows his pace, drawing out your orgasm for as long as possible.
His cock was in pain, desperate for it to make contact with any part of you. In this life, one thing he developed over the past three years of watching you in the shadows was patience. And you had none.
“God, just put it in,” you groan so casually, resting your forearm to shield your eyes away from him. You were so fucked out. Hair splayed all over the pillow in messy waves. Lips bruised, your cherry gloss staining your chin and his cheek.
So eager to just have him take you. If he were a weaker man (maybe Beomgyu), he would have listened. But like he said earlier. He would savor this.
His fingers travel down to your folds, one dancing at your entrance to tease you. Sunghoon smirks as you whimper. He pushes a finger in and bites his lip at the feeling. He hasn’t felt you, or anyone for that matter, in ages. In these past three years, he couldn't bring himself to even talk to another woman who wasn't you. It didn't feel right.
All the lonely, and frankly sad, nights touching himself to thoughts of you. Fucking himself on his wrist as he remembers all the nights you’ve shared in your 13 years of marriage. He had plenty of material to work with, with all of your past escapades, but it was nothing like the real thing. Nothing like feeling you again.
“Sunghoon, stop teasing me-”
His finger stilled, and you thought about cursing him out. He pulls your forearm away from your eyes, forcing you to look into his.
“Want to try that again?” he says, threateningly slow. The darkness of his gaze was enough to have you pliant and doe-eyed.
“Hoon?” He smiles, kissing you on the forehead softly.
“Good girl.” And just like that, he dips another finger in, scissoring them into you with precision. You’re a mess underneath him, overstimulated beyond belief, but he honestly couldn’t give less of a fuck. He needed you to be ready for him. His heaviness was throbbing painfully just thinking about how you'd take him after all this time.
How long would it take you to adjust to his size?
Sunghoon’s fingers squelch with each thrust, finding the soft spot he was so familiar with. He’s obsessed, drinking in the sight of your eyelashes fluttering, your hands gripping at his shoulders like your life depended on it. You were so wrapped up in your own pleasure, fucking yourself onto his fingers. Grinding up at him without a care in the world.
“Look at you,” he laughs. “So needy.”
Sunghoon pulls his fingers out of you before he brings them to his lips. He hums, relishing the taste. He’d have to go down on you again later tonight. Taste you after his cock has had its fill.
You watch him in anticipation as he takes his pants off. You follow his lead as you unhook your bra, throwing it across his floor, sighing at the feeling of cool air hitting your nipples. Sunghoon pulls his throbbing member out of his briefs, pumping himself languidly.
Sunghoon's eyes meet yours for a second before they go back to your cunt. He's churning something in his mouth, and you almost ask him what he was doing until he positions his mouth just above your folds.
With sultry eyes directly gazing up at yours, Sunghoon lets his saliva drip down onto your pussy.
You throw your head back on the pillow from the sight. Fuck, that was hot. He moves back up to you, guiding his hand to spread his spit with the tip of his leaking cock.
His dick smears your joined liquid in an up-and-down motion, pushing in ever-so-slightly. You gasp and clutch his chest, nails digging in enough to get his attention. He stops.
“I’m not on birth control,” you mutter, like you’re scared to tell him.
“Should I stop?” he asks, even with his tip pulsing so desperately between your folds. You avoid eye contact, though he doesn’t know why.
“Look at me.” he growls.
Sunghoon tilts your chin to face him, and with glossy eyes, you shake your head. He smiles, and a tinge of sadness hits him. You look so soft underneath him, so fucking beautiful.
He’s spent three years stuck in this version of his life, crying over you to avoid this very moment. But he just wanted you so bad. Wanted to feel you at least once again. Then, he’ll let go, he swears. This will be the first and last.
“Use your w-”
You interrupt him with a kiss, wrapping your legs around him to push him deeper into you. He groans, collapsing onto his elbows. You dig your heels into his back as you pull him in deeper. Sunghoon's lips leave you to lay his forehead against yours. His breathing grows heavy, so lost in how your hole sucks him in.
“So fucking tight,” he groans, testing the waters with a small thrust after bottoming out. You squeak in response. “Fuck, baby.”
He wraps you in a tight hold, propping his knees underneath your thighs into a mating press. He fucks into you at an agonizing pace. It's so slow, you could feel every part of his rigid cock. His large size. His thick veins. The soft pulsing. It's so slow that you almost flip him over to ride him instead. But the desperation in his eyes stops you. His head buries deep in your hair, and you could hear the shakiness of his breath as he pulls out of you and plunges back in.
Sunghoon relishes the way you clench around him, your tight warmth pulling him deeper and deeper with each thrust. He drives himself into you with languid, but strong thrusts. He wants to engrave his place inside you so that you are ruined for anyone who might come after him. And again, he angers himself.
"You only this good for me?" he asks, searching your eyes for reassurance. But you aren't listening. You meet his thrusts, grinding yourself onto him. You want more. More of his touch. More of his length. Just more of him.
“Faster–” you whine, thighs pushing into his sides with each hard thrust. He was reaching the deepest part of you, your cervix kissing his tip ever so deliciously. Sunghoon doesn’t abide, so you take what he gives you.
"You this desperate for everyone, baby?" he whispers into your ear darkly. You shake your head, tears forming in your eyes.
"No..." you muster out. "Just you."
And even through all the tequila and the self-restraint not to jackhammer into you, he believes you.
His hands are on your tits now, catching them as they bounce with the strength of his slow thrusts. He twists a nipple between his fingers, coaxing a moan out of you. He tugs and pulls, and it's enough to have you moaning underneath him.
You feel that familiar fire build inside of you. An ember that burned in your lower stomach and traveled down to the very tip of your toes.
“Hoon! Please- Fuck- I need... I need-”
You couldn’t form full sentences. His thrusts were so harsh and still so painstakingly slow. His eyes never left your face. He basked in the way your brows furrowed for him. How your lips formed silent screams as he hit that certain spot within you. Again and again.
“Tell me what you want,” he whispers hoarsely, his lips so close to yours. “Tell me who you need.”
“You!” you cry out. "Only you!"
He smashes his lips against yours as he finally thrusts into you hard and fast. His hands on your breast travel down to your waist, locking you onto the mattress as he fuck into you.
You feel something pooling, feel the tingling of your toes intensify with his breath against your face. His moans are just as loud as yours, grunting in your hair like a beast.
“You feel so fucking good–” his hips piston forward, brushing against that spot with every movement. Your chest is pressed into his as you claw at his back. The sensation builds and builds as your stomach starts to tighten.
“Hoon- Oh my god- I’m-Angh!”
Your second orgasm rips through you, the tension within snapping like a chord. It's so much stronger than your first one. It hits you in waves as you weep through it, your hips grinding up to meet his unending thrusts. You were so sore, so sensitive, but his pace stayed so relentless.
“Close– So fucking close, baby–” he moans into your hair.
He clutches your hips, driving into you with reckless abandon. Even if you had no idea who he was, he would have your body remember him. Sunghoon, in this life, would be your best one-night stand. He swears on it.
He grunts as he feels you clench around him harder, his hips stuttering against yours.
“I’m gonna–” He tries to pull out, tries to push you away. Tries not to repeat the same mistakes. But your arms pull him downward as legs wrap sternly around his waist. You push him in deeper.
And he comes. Hard.
“Fuck-”
Sunghoon plants an open-mouthed kiss on your lips, drowning out his sweet noises as he feels his raw cock twitch deep inside. His hot cum spills deep inside you with thick spurts. Your lips parted at the warm feeling, and he could tell you enjoyed every bit of milking him dry.
Sunghoon pulls away from you with a soft groan. He watches as his cum spills out of you. He brings his finger to your folds, pushing his fluids into you.
As he meets your eyes, he’s shocked to see how concerned you look. Because unbeknownst to him, there were tears streaking down his face. And before he can fully sober up and stop himself, he says it.
"I love you."
You’re gone before he wakes up.
Sunghoon screams into his pillow, recalling his words like a bad nightmare. Stupid. So stupid. This was supposed to be different. He was supposed to be different.
That stranger, whoever he was, said this was his last chance. And what did he do? He threw away three years of silent pining just to chase you down on the very night the troubles in your relationship had begun.
Was he a fucking idiot?
You never even said goodbye, never even replied to his confession last night. Didn’t even leave a trace of what last night meant to you—if it meant anything at all. He must’ve looked insane.
Sunghoon grips the back of his neck, exhaling hard. You don’t know him. You aren’t the same girl from his past life. You're different now. Three years. That’s how long you’ve had to become someone else.
And him? He hasn’t changed at all. He’s still chasing ghosts. If it wasn't figure skating in his past life, it would be you in this one.
He sighs and sits up. Practice. He should go to practice.
two months later.
“Are you messing around, kid, or do you actually want to win this thing?!” Coach Jung shouts after Sunghoon falls on his ass for the umpteenth time. His palms sting from the fall, but he barely feels it.
The World Championships are in a week, and he hasn’t heard a single peep from you since you left his apartment. Hasn’t seen you on campus in his usual routes to watch you from afar. He knew he had reached a new level of patheticness when he actually went up to Beomgyu to ask how you were.
Turns out, you two weren't even as close as he thought you were. He smiled to himself after that, but frowned when he realized that it truly was as if you had disappeared.
“Sorry,” he huffs, out of breath from the demanding routine. “One more time?”
Coach Jung pinches the bridge of his nose. “How about ten more, you punk? Get your act together.”
Coach mutters something under his breath and storms off, leaving Sunghoon alone with the cold silence of the rink. He tries again. Falls again. He smacks his gloved hand against the ice, hard enough that the sharp sting shoots up his arm. He should’ve known. The moment he got a taste of you, he knew this would happen.
No matter when or how, he would always bother you. He would always lose himself. He would always manage to ruin everything.
“Are you living the life you wanted, Park Sunghoon?” a voice echoes behind him. He spins on his skates.
There he is again. The blonde prick. Somehow, he’s in his sneakers and standing still on the ice. His hands are smug in his coat pockets.
Sunghoon doesn’t take the time to question it until he’s skating at breakneck speed towards him.
He swings at him, but the stranger disappears into smoke.
“Or do you still have regrets?” the voice is behind him again. Sunghoon turns around to the stranger, giving him that annoying, shiteating grin.
“I want out,” Sunghoon says with a strained jaw. “Bring me back. To Sunghee. To Sungjae. To her. Now.”
The blonde laughs. “You haven’t even done what you set out to do yet. Wasn't this what you wanted?”
Sunghoon lets out a bitter sigh, chest tight.
“I get it, okay?" he says with wavering breaths. "I was selfish. I asked for too much. I get it now. So just... please. Please, send me back.”
The boy steps forward. His sneakers make no sound on the ice. Inches away from Sunghoon now, just a little taller than him.
“You don’t always get what you want in life,” the stranger says with that sick, twisted grin. It sends a rush of dread through Sunghoon's body.
“I thought you would have learned that by now.”
the world championships.
He’s in the locker room. His left leg is bouncing up and down, nail splitting as he gnaws at it incessantly. Only ten contestants ahead of him, but he has the time to panic. Just like he did before.
Coach Jung pats him on the shoulder. “Don’t think too much. You're gonna psych yourself out.”
Sunghoon shakes his head, unlocking his phone to check the time. The lockscreen, snow falling past a dark streetlight, holds his gaze longer than it should. He sighs.
“I'm not nervous,” Sunghoon replies, unconvincingly. “It's just cold.”
Coach Jung rolls his eyes.
“You're not new to this, kid,” he doubts the young man. “You're gonna do great out there. This is what you've been dreaming of. Just don't mess it up.”
And when Coach Jung shuts the door behind him, Sunghoon puts his hands to his face. And instead of self-affirmations, he is trembling. Barely breathing, he replays the memory again. Of him spinning you in his arms. Of your kind smile.
Sunghoon told himself not to expect you. In this lifetime, you'd only met once. Only fucked once. But he still thought... maybe the universe would be kind. Maybe you’d show up like you did back then.
“Can the remaining five acts please be on stand-by?” the overhead speaker blares into the locker room. That's him. He's one of the last five.
There’s no one to hold him back this time. No distractions. Just an aching in his chest.
Sunghoon's by the stands now. He watches with shaky hands as the crowd ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ at his competitors’ routines. He hates watching before his turn.
His eyes naturally fall on a seat in the stands. He blinks, rubbing his eyes to check if he was hallucinating.
Someone sits there. Not a stranger. Not this time. It's you. Your brows furrowed like you were forcing yourself not to enjoy his competitor’s performance. Wearing the same outfit. He huffs a laugh under his breath. What are you doing here?
As the routines passed one by one, he could not take his eyes off you. Even from afar, your eyes glisten so beautifully. The same eyes that once glowed, helping the kids with homework. The same eyes that looked at him across the table after long days and short tempers. His wife. The mother of his children. The version of life he gave up for this one.
Now, he would have to settle for this. Longing stares and a heartbeat he could hear in his ears.
“Next to skate, representing the People's Republic of Korea. Sunghoon Park!”
He steps onto the ice with a big smile on his face. He forces it out, forces himself to act fine when you cheer at the sound of his name. He takes his pose at the center of the ice.
The music begins. His edges wobble, nerves bleeding into the blade. He practiced day and night, no distractions. Not even you. So why… Why was this happening?
He takes in a deep breath as he prepares himself for the first spin. He’s skating backwards, building up momentum. He pushes off the ice. Toe pick hits.
Sunghoon rose high. He spots himself. One. Two. Three. Almost four– but his shoulders tilt, the axis too loose. The rotation slows. A half-second of weightlessness gives way to gravity, and he’s tumbling onto the ice hard.
Gasps echo through the arena, and then applause as he brushes himself back up and onto his skates again.
He gets up. He keeps going. Muscle memory takes over. The rest of the routine is clean. Almost perfect, but not enough.
The first quad... He fucked it up. He bows, head down, as if apologizing for even trying.
And when the score is announced while he's sitting on the sidelines, his body is limp. He barely reacts, face blank with emotion.
He could blame you for it. Pretend you were the reason why his routine didn't score high. But the truth is, he stopped believing in excuses a long time ago.
Years of hating himself led here. All this time, resenting the path he took, only to fuck this one up, too.
Sunghoon had to laugh. He deserves it. Of course he did. The low score. You leaving him. The heartache.
Everything he thought he was capable of, everything he pushed aside to have this moment. None of it mattered without you.
As he rises from his seat on the floor, he searches for you in the endless crowd of faces. The other competitors pass by him with pity; he sees it in everyone’s faces. But they don't matter.
Because you're gone. Your seat is empty.
"Kid-"
He pushes past Coach Jung without looking back. There's nothing left to say.
Sunghoon pulls his skates off skillfully, breaking into a sprint towards the exit. He runs with only socks separating him from the floor.
Then he sees you, clutching your stomach and moving toward the exit. His breath catches. Somehow, he knows. He's seen it all play out before.
“[Y/N], wait!”
You stop in your tracks, hands trembling. You turn around, and he is already clutching your face, kissing you so deeply. You would have every right to push him away, to call him a creep and spit every insult at him. But you don’t, and he doesn’t understand why.
Instead, you lean into his touch, fingers fisting the thin fabric of his blouse. He’s the first to pull away, forehead resting against yours.
“Why are you here?” he asks. It’s not the only question he has, but it’s the first that comes out. You’re crying now, eyes wide, mouth parted. But why?
“I was just…” You try, but you fail to find the right words. “I just came to support you?”
Sunghoon shakes his head. He doesn't buy it. Not for a second. Your voice faltered. He knew better now not to let things linger.
“You came to tell me something,” he says knowingly, replaying the scene of the past in his head as it happens right in front of him. He smiles sadly, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. “What is it?”
You flinch.
“I can’t,” you whisper, the first barrage of tears falling down your face. “It'll ruin you.”
He laughs then. Quiet. Tired. Even in this life, you were so selfless. He doesn’t deserve you. Never did.
“You always say that. Even now.”
He takes your hands into his.
“Are you pregnant?” he asks, taking the words right out of your lips. Your mouth opens in shock.
“How did you-?”
“We'll figure it out,” Sunghoon interrupts softly. He was smiling now. Sunghee was here. She was growing inside you. “Together.”
For a moment, something shifts. You search his face like you’re looking for confirmation. And just like that, you pull away. What? It stings.
This didn't happen before. Why were you-
“You went back," you say. "Didn’t you?” Your voice sounds foreign now, laced with hurt. It’s his turn to look confused.
“What do you mean?” he asks, hands reaching for yours again. You avoid them, and he feels a sharp pain in his chest. “What are you talking about?”
“You… You went back in time like I did, right?” Sunghoon’s eyes widened. “That’s how you knew.”
He freezes.
It clicks. Like cold water hitting his skin. He remembers the first time he saw you in this life. How carefully he avoided you. How he left the penguin plushie behind, just like before. How badly you’d looked at him after that. It all makes sense now.
“I didn’t want to avoid you,” he musters. “I had every intention of finding you again. I passed by that damn cafe every day just to see you-”
You shake your head, but he keeps going, vomiting out word after word.
“I even tried to talk to you, but you looked so happy. All I could think about was the last time we spoke. How you said you regretted us. Watching you with Beomgyu, or whatever his name is-"
“Sunghoon-”
“I was fucking miserable-” His voice cracks.
“Sunghoon-” You’ve never heard him talk this much. Never seen him look so broken.
“And I couldn’t even fight the guy who dragged me into this mess. I was stuck. Thinking about you. About us. About Sunghee. Sungjae. God, I missed you all so fucking much it hurt to breathe—”
“Sunghoon, please—”
“And I should’ve just caught that stupid penguin. I should've just relived our memories together. I should’ve been a better man, a better husband, a better father. But I just keep fucking it up. Every single time, even now-”
“Hoon!” you shout, grabbing his face with your hands. His words die off. He finally breathes. You don’t look angry, not at him at least.
“I know,” you say quietly. “Because I didn’t put my number on the penguin.”
His mouth parts slightly. "Wha-"
"I thought I was the one who messed it all up," you confess. “When you didn’t pick up the plush, I thought it was because of me. Because I tried to change things.”
You swallow back your tears as he listens to you intently, your hands sliding to his chest.
“I thought you’d be better off without me, too.”
You let out a bitter laugh.
“I tried to fill the space,” you continue. “Tried to pick up things I couldn't before. But all I think about was Sunghee and Sungjae."
Your eyes waver, lips pressed together tightly.
"And you," you breathe out. "I saw you skating, training so hard, and you looked happy. I couldn’t bring myself to take it away from you again.”
You pause, lips trembling.
“So I made a plan. I thought—if I could just get Sunghee back, maybe one day I’d find you again for Sungjae.”
You both let out a shaky laugh.
"So then I went to the bar," you sigh. "I wore that red dress and I just hoped you would find your way to me again-”
“Of course I would,” Sunghoon interrupts, kissing your temple. “I always do.”
“And it worked.” You look at the ground like you're ashamed. “The test was positive. I wasn’t planning on telling you.”
Sunghoon takes your hands, forcing you to look at him. His eyes assure you.
“And then you fell during your routine,” you whisper, a sad laugh slipping out. "I thought… I avoided you all this time for nothing.”
He laughs too. “I wasn’t even going to win anyway.”
Sunghoon pulls you back into a hug, stroking your hair ever-so-softly.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “For making you ever feel like I regretted choosing you.”
And you didn’t know you needed to hear those exact words until you sob into his chest.
Sunghoon soothes you. He’s had enough crying. All he is now is grateful. The pain, the mourning. It all led him here.
“This time we’ll do it right,” he assures you. “I love you. I’m not letting you do this alone.”
You pull away from him, eyes wet but smiling.
“I love you too.”
And you tilt your head as he reaches down to kiss you. With your eyes both closed, the world around you spins. Just you and him. In each other’s arms. His lips are soft against yours.
And a voice unfamiliar to both of you echoes in the air.
“I hope you can live a life without regrets.”
Sunghoon’s eyes open groggily, pain shooting through his spine almost immediately. All he sees are sterile hospital walls and Jay and Sunoo’s concerned faces.
They hover over the foot of his bed, their faces a mix of worry and irritation.
He blinks, scanning the room. Wires. A blood pressure cuff. An IV drip. Another bed. Then your eyes flutter open too.
“You know, with how the divorce is going, we thought you two crashed into each other on purpose,” Sunoo chirps, unempathetic to the dazed state of his friends. Jay smacks him on the shoulder.
“You’re lucky I managed to get you both a private room,” Jay mutters. “The nurses kept whispering about you two in the ICU.”
Sunghoon turns his head slowly, wincing. You’re awake now, alert, your expression matching his. His chest tightens. And almost in a panicked daze, his head snaps back to his friends.
“Sunghee and Sungjae–” he strains out, pain shooting through his lungs. “Where are they?”
Jay furrows his brows.
“They weren’t in the car with [Y/N], if that’s what you’re worried about,” he starts. “They’re looking for a vending machine with Heeseung and Jungwon-”
You both let out a shaky breath. For a second, relief replaces pain. Your eyes meet his for just a second before the door bursts open.
“Mom! Dad!” Sunghee's voice cries out. She’s running towards you two now, but Heeseung stops them.
“Whoa there, princess. They’re fragile.”
Her eyes are red, as if she had just finished crying. Sungjae's behind Heeseung, tugging at his jacket, worry etched across his little face.
“You didn’t do it on purpose, did you?” Sunghee blurts in your direction. Sunghoon has to bite the inside of his cheek to stifle a laugh. “They don’t have it on camera, but they said your car hit Daddy’s!”
He feels something warm bloom in his chest. It’s been a while since Sunghee sounded so protective of him.
You shake your head frantically. “No, darling. My brakes stopped working! I could never hurt your dad. He and I love each other very much-”
You stop yourself, but it's too late—cheeks already warming at the shifting gazes of the four grown men in the room. Jungwon fakes a cough.
“Love? As in, present tense?” he teases.
Sunghoon has the biggest grin on his face, and Sunoo scoffs as his eyes pivot between the two of you.
“Did you both hit your head in the accident?”
Heeseung clears his throat. “So, why don’t we take the kiddos to dinner, hm? Looks like Mom and Dad have some catching up to do.”
Sungjae nods excitedly. “Please! They're so icky.”
The adults usher the kids out, and Jay gives one last wink to the two of you before the doors close. The room falls quiet except for the not-so-steady beeping of the monitors. Sunghoon is the first to speak.
“So... when do you want me to pick up the papers again?”
You laugh softly.
“Oh! I guess if you want to go through with it…”
“No!” Sunghoon shouts, eyes huge. 'He’s so cute when he doesn’t mean to be,' you think to yourself.
You tilt your head, smiling. “Then don’t even think about getting them.”
Your bed is near enough for you to inch your hand towards his forearm. Your touch is featherlight against his skin. It takes all of his strength to intertwine your fingers with his.
“So what does this mean for us?” you say through bated breath. He ponders for a second.
“It means… maybe I can build you an art studio in our garage?” he says cautiously. “And maybe I quit my job? Become a figure skating coach? How does that sound?”
You let out a stronger laugh this time, one that aches in your ribs but still feels good. And in this version of you, older and wiser. He still thinks you’re so beautiful.
“I don’t resent you,” he whispers. And your heart skips a beat, in a way that it hadn’t in a long time. You smile at him. And finally, you find the courage to say it in this life too.
“I love you.”
He brings your fingers to his lips and plants gentle kisses on your knuckles.
In every lifetime, Sunghoon knows. He could be standing on the Olympic stage, the roar of thousands echoing in his ears. He could have everything he ever thought he wanted. But none of it would matter. Not if you weren’t there.
“I love you too," he replies, quietly.
And in every lifetime, he will always find his way back to you. And he will choose you. Over and over again.
epilogue.
Sungjae is on the garage floor, legs crisscrossed as he watches something on his iPad. Sunghoon is installing shelves for your future artist corner while Sungjae's video is strangely on mute.
“What you watching, son?” he asks, trying to distract himself from the tight pull in his lower back.
Sungjae doesn’t look up. “Your skating videos.”
Sunghoon nearly drops the shelf on his eye. “W-what?”
Sungjae shrugs.
“Looks interesting,” he mutters. “Wish I could fly like that.”
Sunghoon sets the shelf down carefully, then crosses the room to crouch beside Sungjaee. On the screen, a much younger version of himself soars across the ice. He remembers that routine. His first national win.
“Didn't think you'd be into it,” he ruffles his son’s hair.
Sungjae shrugs again, but pink tinges his cheeks.
“You never asked.”
The words hit him. He never really did. Not even with Sunghee.
“Do you want to try?” Sunghoon asks slowly. “Figure skating?”
Sungjae finally looks up, eyes wide. “Can I?”
Sunghoon feels tears well up in his eyes, and he coughs them away. What was up with him and crying these days?
“Of course, son,” he says, pulling him into a gentle side hug. “You'll be my first student.”
Synopsis– You’re a university student who wants to win the attention of the popular Jay, using your good and devoted friend Heeseung as a "wingman" to get closer to him, since Heeseung is Jay’s close/best friend. It all starts as a simple plan, which articulates to something that pulls you much closer than you ever thought of, or intended to— a sociology project. Heeseung slowly becomes a constant person in your life—who you can rely on, who you are familiar with and who is always there for you. While everyone notices the change, you don’t— you remain completely oblivious. But then it doesn’t matter, because it was never him in the first place. It was always for and about Jay. And finally when one day, with help of Heeseung, you introduce yourself to Jay and everything changes here. The attention you always wanted is now yours, and the time you spent with Heeseung starts slipping away, replaced with what you wanted. But somewhere in between this long process of getting closer to Jay ......... are you losing something you never realised you had.
Genre– Romance, Friends to lovers
Word Count– idk
Theme– Friends to lovers, Angst, 18+ themes, Explicit themes, Mutual pinning and more
Release–July/August
Author's Note – This is my first fic, I never wrote anything like this, it has a lot of drama, angst, confusion and stuff, but then the thing is I'm really slow writer and this kinda takes a lot of time, and i'm seriously not like the people who say i'm slow writer and then post everything by the next day😥....this plot is quiet new for me to write so it will take a lot of time and in the meantime i will post few drabbles and stuff if possible and please give me request i will be happy to write❤️
summary. making a fool out of himself in front of three thousand people on the regular sure never taught heeseung how to talk to pretty girls—a realization he only has when you (the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen) walk into his soul-sucking economics class and all he’s got in manpower is himself, his idiot friends, and a deeply unhelpful twitch chat.
pairing. streamer!heeseung x y/n
↳ ft jay, jake, sunghoon, and twitch chat
genre. college au, twitch streamer au, fluff, classmates to lovers
word count. 12.0k
disclaimers. heeseung-centric/pov, swearing, alcohol use, kissing/suggestive activities while drunk, smoking, some crudeness bc they're stupid college guys, pacing is highkey ass i'm sorry
released. 03.09.2026
author's note. this is a prequel to sparks but the events are slightly tweaked and can be read entirely as a standalone! my take on loser heeseung and the pinnacle of my streamer!enha career. pls tell me all ur thoughts about everything!!
masterlist
any feedback is appreciated ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ᗜ<)
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
burgermuncher123: what fucking idiot streams their course selection
When Lee Heeseung goes live at a time of day that isn’t four in the morning, people fear the worst.
The most widely accepted explanation is that he was kidnapped because he “looked kidnappable.” Some propose that he must’ve been beaten up by those kids he was cyberbullying on Among Us VR a few days ago. Something, something, “Mr. Beast video”—the stream notification might as well have been a national emergency alert.
But as they flood into his corner of Twitch, everyone quickly realizes that their streamer was, in fact, perfectly fine.
There he is, in all his unassuming, wonky headset glory. The storage room he passionately defends as a bedroom is still comfortably barren, bathed in a cozy golden light by the morning sun that filtered in through the dented shutters—something softer on the eyes than the blinding white of his ring lights. His keyboard collection is tucked away in one corner, a bulky dehumidifier running in the other.
gopissgirl: Bro this fucking ragebaiter. look at his Stupid ass
mavuikasbikecanrunmeover: HE’S NOT DEAD!!!!!
xyz_: yo his bald spot finally isn’t reflecting the light peepoCheer
Heeseung cracks his knuckles. Twists his neck, then his back.
“Alright, chat.” A sigh from the depths of his soul leaves him. “We’re fighting a war today.”
It turns out the earth-shattering event that warrants a Heeseung stream at nine-thirty in the morning is his second-year course selection. Or, in more efficient terms, war—because if he had to spend one more second in the torture chamber that is Professor Jenkins’ circuits lecture, he will die in those trenches.
hoonbot: ARE YOU TAKING 12 COURSES HELLO
jeikeushim: i will NEVER regret switching to accounting
user14: why the fuck are u taking econ1130 man 😭😭
“Okay, okay, chat,” Heeseung hunches forward, elbows knocking into a crumpled Monster can before firmly planting on the desk. His hands are steepled, voice low and dead serious, as if he’s about to deliver the most unrivaled, undeniable justification for why he, an engineering student, is going to take Economic History in the Twentieth Century.
“Listen. I need to fulfill a breadth credit this year and Jay said the prof is super chill. Plus, I saw a guy on Reddit say this was a bird course. I’ll be fine.”
applesauceeater: oh this guy’s so Cooked
girlqueenpussyboss67: whenever sunghoon starts talking about coding i like to come watch u cuz it reminds me that it’s ok to be a little stupid in the head <3
“I like to come watch you because it reminds me that it’s okay to be a little stupid in the he—” A loud, indignant sputter. He pushes himself up, walks to the back of the room (“the gall,” the microphone manages to pick up) before sitting back down and scooting back towards the camera.
“Mods, ban the guy who said that. Also, ban the guy who brought up the bald spot I do not have, and ban the word ‘bald’ from my chat.”
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Heeseung needs to kill Jay.
And that one guy from Reddit. And himself from two months ago.
Some would argue that he’s being too much of a hater barely a week into the term, but Heeseung can barely find enough fucks to give about this class at all, let alone question the ethics of his internal Death Note.
Circuits with Jenkins, Heeseung decides, was heaven compared to this. The classroom hadn’t been bad. Jake and Sunghoon had shared it with him, so he could spend his classes fucking around on Roblox Fruit Tycoon Simulator rather than paying attention. Sometimes, Jenkins would grace the class by rambling on about her ongoing divorce with her good-for-nothing husband. In retrospect, what had he been complaining over? Certainly nothing worse than this.
The Economics department holds its courses in one of the campus’ oldest buildings: a quaint, beautiful thing—Romanesque in its turrets and arched windows and brickwork. It’s a shame the outside is the only part of it that seems maintained at all, since Heeseung’s lecture hall seems a cough and two sneezes away from falling apart completely.
No windows, awful ventilation, sticky tables. The sound of the professor’s gnarly smoker voice. Heeseung laments about how he can’t enjoy the daylight he never enjoys anyway—and promptly decides to make it Jay’s problem.
Jay—who’d been having a steak burrito in the student commons between classes before being intercepted by Heeseung and cursed out so colourfully he’d have thought he’d killed his parents—blinks at his friend.
“Dude,” he says, more dumbfounded than anything. “Do you not background check your classes? Even a little? The economics building is straight dogshit. Everyone knows that.”
Heeseung wonders why his hands are still at his sides and not wrapped around Jay’s throat. “That’s not the point. You said that he was chill,” he seethes.
Jay takes another bite, voice muffled by the food in his mouth. “He is chill. Plays golf with my dad on Sundays at our country club.”
“He sounds like he chain-smokes twenty-five cigs a day. He calls everyone ‘kid’, but it’s, like, condescending. Not in a cool way like Brad Pitt does it.”
“Nothing to do with how chill he is, man. Besides, you’re lucky you only have to take an easy course and not something like econometrics.”
“I know you did not just say that to me of all people,” Heeseung grits out, having to physically restrain himself from making a colouring book joke.
A thinly veiled snicker, hastily covered up by a weak cough. “Well, you’re outta luck. Can’t drop courses until next week.”
“Whatever, I’ll just skip until then—”
“Go and I’ll give you fifty dollars for it.”
Unbothered by how Heeseung is gawking at him, Jay finishes the last bits of his food, crumpling the foil into a little ball. For all the pity he felt that Heeseung actually took the class he’d only recommended as a half-joke, he also felt a strong urge to make his friend suffer, to put it ineloquently. One of his eyebrows is slightly quirked, as if to ask if it was a deal or not.
God, rich people are freaks, Heeseung curses in his mind. On what planet does he benefit from that? What am I, his little show pony? This is ridicul—
“Deal, you son of a bitch,” he hisses, snatching his bag and storming out.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Making bank, Heeseung resolves, has to take priority.
Not that he particularly wants to indulge Jay’s sick, twisted wishes—but rather because fifty dollars is fifty dollars, and to someone like Jay, fifty dollars is a tissue to blow his nose with.
Three more agonizing lectures go by before the day miraculously arrives: the last time Heeseung would ever have to attend this godforsaken class. Never again would he have to hear a lick about post-war economic development or anything of the sort.
The lecture hall is still as dreadful as ever, though noticeably emptier than it’d been the first week, which Heeseung decides that he cannot wait to contribute to. He slumps into an empty seat (still uncomfortably warm from whoever was sitting here before him), slots his headphones over his ears, and prepares to mentally clock out for the next two hours.
Perhaps the universe is finally on his side.
Sure, having to be here at all is a huge drag—but for once, the walk to the Economics building hadn’t been polluted with the smell of chemicals from neverending construction. His Discover Weekly had refreshed and wasn’t ass.
And now, in a few hours time, he would officially be fifty dollars richer, spending his sweet new free time playing FIFA and fucking up a bag of M&M’s and—
Someone taps his shoulder.
Heeseung jolts at the touch, eyes sliding half-open. Despite half his vision being blocked by his hood and music blasting him towards deafness, he can vaguely sense a presence next to him. Figuring it’s someone passing through, he moves to pick his bag up from where it is at his feet—but the tap comes again.
One of his hands moves to pause his music, the other sliding his headphones off one ear.
“—cuse me, sorry. Is this seat taken?”
Heeseung finally bothers to look up, and—
Fuck. Oh, fuck my life.
There’s little that can phase a guy who accidentally ripped his pants on stream and made “BUZZ LIGHTYEAR BOXERS” the number one trend on Twitter for a full twenty-four hours. He’s seen it all, done it all—worn the maid outfit, read fanfiction of him and Sunghoon, the works. Figured he'd already been enlightened to the highest degree after watching Megan Fox in Jennifer's Body when he was fourteen.
So, maybe he should feel a little pathetic about how openly he's gawking, but he's far too busy trying to figure out if he's hallucinating the ridiculously pretty girl in front of him.
Lips pursed, you manage a small, nervous smile. Your head swivels to look around the lecture hall. “Um, if it’s taken, I’ll just—”
“It’s not taken,” Heeseung blurts out, as if his tongue had finally screwed itself back on. “It’s— no one’s sitting here, no. You can sit.”
Your eyes soften with relief, mumbling a quiet “thanks.”
Heeseung closes his eyes. Shuts them so hard that they start to hurt from the pressure and colours start exploding behind his eyelids. Anything to distract himself from how his throat is closing up because the prettiest girl he never even fathomed could exist had just knocked her knee into his as she's settling into the cramped seat.
So much for mentally clocking out.
The lecture hall quiets as the professor coughs into the mic. Lights dim, and a PowerPoint that was easily made ten years ago is projected onto the pull-down screen, crooked from the audience's point of view. Heeseung can feel the drowsiness from the warm, stuffy air threatening to pull him under.
Breathing in heavily, he’s ready to drown himself out again, but a whisper comes from beside him, making him stiffen. “This class has been going on for a while, right? Did I miss anything?”
He swallows, voice rough. “Uh, no. Just standard syllabus stuff… this guy drones a lot.”
A giggle, followed by a sarcastic sigh. “Read his reviews so my hopes aren’t high. But it’s required, so what can you do?”
Your elbow is propped up on the seat arm between him and you, jaw cradled in the palm of your hand—just shy of brushing against the fabric of his hoodie. “I would’ve taken it in the winter term, but there was one person in a group chat I’m in who said he was ‘super chill’, so he can’t be that bad, right?”
Heeseung could kiss Jay on the mouth.
For the remainder of the lecture, the two of you are silent. You’d since slipped on a pair of clear-framed glasses, perched on the slope of your nose as you diligently take notes—while Heeseung’s trying not to piss himself every time you tuck a loose lock of hair back behind your ear in the corner of his vision.
When noon hits, the lecture hall rumbles with noise again as everyone is filing out. Heeseung from literally two hours ago would be bewildered by his current self still being in his seat rather than having already sprinted out the door.
“I never caught your name,” you say, cutting through the noise. He can hear your voice clearly now that you aren’t whispering. “I’m Y/N.”
He wets his lips. “Heeseung,” he manages.
“Nice to meet you. I’ll see you around?”
“Y— Yeah.”
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Heeseung does not drop Economic History in the Twentieth Century.
He'd spent a good ten minutes logged into his student portal—the 'withdraw' button he'd been so ready to press staring him down as if daring him to even think about it anymore—before closing out of the tab. Admitting defeat.
Which means he doesn’t free up any time in his schedule to play FIFA, nor does he get fifty dollars from Jay (despite his negotiations that he’d technically fulfilled what he’d been asked to do).
All he really got out of this ordeal was unsolicited emotional turmoil over a girl he’s had barely half a conversation with.
Two full days have passed since he's met you, and not once had you strayed from his thoughts for more than a few minutes. In all honestly, he's can't remember exactly what your features look like from off the top of his head—but he remembers that you had outrageously pretty eyes and hair and a sweet lilt to your voice that makes him want to tear his hair out. The feeling you'd caused to stir in his chest lingers, stubbornly refusing to leave.
heeshings: alt revived bc my streamer got action. we all cheered
washingmachine42069: Yo you talk to women ?
Heeseung groans loudly, hands dragging down his face. “You don’t get it, chat,” he fake sobs. “She’s so fucking pretty. Like—”
Shooting up, his arms wave around as he attempts to defend himself. “—I literally sat down, ready to honk, shooo, mimimimi pass out, and then I feel this tap on my shoulder. I’m like ‘bro, who the fuck is this’. I turn my head and boom. I'm at the pearly white gates. It's God. I saw God—I literally entered heaven. You guys wouldn’t drop the class either! Stop pretending you would!”
user8: based on how you’re reacting to this i can tell u had No game
jayparkk_ ✔: respond to my msgs
jayparkk_ ✔: shouldn’t u be thanking me licking my shoes or some shit i literally locked u in for life
“‘I literally locked you in for life’ you didn’t lock me into shit,” Heeseung grits out, pointing an accusing finger at the webcam. “All you’ve done is made it so I have to keep going to these fucking awful classes.”
jayparkk_ ✔: aint no one forcing you into anything lil bro 😹😹😹
rima_ovo: “all you’ve done is cause a gorgeous woman to enter my life” my steak too juicy. my lobster too buttery. We need to kill this guy
xddd111: dw bout it we’re gonna manifest her for you KEEP YO CHIN UP KING 💯💯💯
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
The aged playground swing creaks as Sunghoon settles into it.
“I thought you dropped that class,” he comments, offhanded.
Perhaps it's a bit concerning—and sad—for three grown men to be loitering at the local children's playground at one in the morning. Even the stray tabby that likes to wander around the area is giving them what could seriously be a stink eye.
But Heeseung had been throwing so egregiously in Valorant that it was making Sunghoon rank down, so the latter had to put his foot down and stage an intervention.
Heeseung's quiet from his spot in the whale spring rider.
His lanky form is folded up in the small space, chin perched on his tightly drawn-up knees. Frigid air chips at his cheeks as he stares at no particular spot on the ground. “I was going to. Jay was even gonna give me fifty bucks for it—” neither Jake nor Sunghoon comment on how that makes no sense, “—But I raise you this: pretty girl.”
Sunghoon rolls his eyes. “You didn't drop the course that made you want to kill yourself because of some eye candy?” he asks incredulously.
Jake snorts loudly, fishing a pack of cigarettes out from the back pocket of his jeans. Flicking the top open, he slips one out with slender fingers. “Hoon, haven't you been eye-fucking your stats TA for weeks now? Don't think you're reaaaaally one to talk.” —to which Sunghoon shamelessly ignores.
“First of all, speak on her with some respect,” Heeseung retorts. “She's not just eye candy. Have you considered that she had a good impact on my mental health? Exhibit A: I don't want to kill myself when I think of that class anymore.”
“Man, if this girl is as great as you make her out to be, you gotta shoot your shot or something,” Jake says, voice slightly muffled. “Cig?”
Heeseung declines. Lighting a flame, then taking a drawn-out drag, Jake continues: “'cause you can't just sit around on your ass all day, hoping she'll pick you if you ogle her stupidly enough.”
“Fuck off, I wasn't gonna do that anyway. Either way, literally what business do I have shooting my shot? I don't know anything other than her first na—”
“Y/N L/N,” Sunghoon's drawling cuts through the air.
“Philosophy, politics, and economics major. Wants to go to law school. Transferred from Hanhwa Women's College. Sister's...” he squints at his screen. “—sister's a big shot lawyer downtown.”
Silence. “How the fuck did you do that?”
Shrugging, Sunghoon plucks the cigarette from between Jake's fingers, bringing it up to his own lips. “Not hard. Here, want to see it again?”
He taps around on his phone for half a minute or so. “Jason's seeing Charlotte Kim. The volleyball one.”
Jake shoots up from where he's been lying on the ground, several woodchips stuck to the back of his hoodie. “He is?”
Sunghoon pulls up a photo on his screen, which Jake immediately snatches into his own hands. “Yeah. He's your neighbour, dumbass. How the hell do you not know this?”
“Dude, I've been crashing at Lambda recently 'cause Minjun's on exchange, so his room's empty. It's fucking sick, Ren's girl makes the craziest Belgian waffles—”
The sound of a car horn blares through the quiet of the night, causing a flock of birds to flee from where they'd been nestled in the trees. Heeseung's gaze snaps over, squinting as Jay's familiar figure locks the sleek convertible before slinking up to the group.
He's baffled at the sight. “The fuck are you guys doing?”
“Therapy,” Jake calls out, shaking the cigarette pack in the air. “Cig?”
Jay takes one, catching the lighter Sunghoon tosses his way. “I saw you guys on 360. You know you look really fucking weird, right?”
“We, gang. If we went down right now, you'd be part of it.”
Heeseung's hates how Jay turns to him with a gleam in his eyes.
“Listen, Heeseung,” he starts. “I know you already sorta owe me your first-born child for being the best wingman ever, but since I'm so gracious—I have a plan, and on my balls it's going to end your bitchless streak.”
Planting a solid hand on Heeseung's shoulder, he says, with all the seriousness in the world: “You've gotta talk to her.”
The three of them stare at him in complete silence, broken only by the woodchip Sunghoon chucks at the back of his head. “Shut the fuck up, dude. You're pissing me off.”
Jay hisses, shooting a scathing glare at Sunghoon while rubbing at the spot he'd been struck. “If you'd let me finish,” he snarks, turning back to Heeseung. “You've gotta get her to warm up to you. Be proactive. Women love that shit. But only if they like you.”
“And what if she, I don't know, doesn't like me?”
“That's what the talking part is for, idiot. You've gotta gauge whether she fucks with you or not. She's friends with Chaewon, so I can even help you on that front. Then, if she seems sorta into you, invite her to the Lambda party.”
Heeseung blinks. “You want me to win her over by talking to her and then inviting her to a frat party?” he sputters. “Who am I, Jake?”
“Do you want to become co-president of the eye-fucking club with Sunghoon and expect her clothes to magically be on the floor?”
Another woodchip is aimed at Jay's head, which he manages to dodge this time—only for another to fling square into his forehead, this time from Heeseung.
“Ow!” Jay yelps. “Fuck's your problem?”
“I'm not trying to fuck her, dickhead.”
Jay gives him deadpan look. “What I mean is that the bar's in hell. You've gotta raise it at least a little.”
His gaze is determined. Unwavering. Freakishly inspiring. It has Heeseung nodding along, despite not knowing and, frankly, being scared of why. As if a weird seed of motivation was planted inside of him, growing, snowballing.
Jake's cigarette is on its last legs. He's about to let it drop and snuff it out with his sole until it's snatched out of his grasp by Heeseung, who hastily presses it between his lips.
A rough inhale. Nicotine courses through his thrumming veins. A calm exhale.
He nods firmly. “I'm going to do this.”
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Slam.
The wood of his desk is cold against Heeseung's forehead. “Chat, I can't fucking do this.”
Something might have genuinely possessed him last night, because whatever speck of conviction Heeseung had about getting to know you was nowhere to be found the second he woke up that morning.
He's been spiralling in a whirlpool of preemptive humiliation and despair since—so much so that he went live with the stream title “FUCK MY STUPID BAKA LIFE!!!!!!”, which his mods, fearing the wrath of Twitch's Terms of Service, lovingly re-titled to “heeseung girl crashout #2”.
Jay accompanies him this time, sprawled out on armchair at the back of the room. Legs propped up on an ottoman as he plays Geometry Dash on his phone.
“I don't know what you're freaking out about,” he says wryly, not looking up. “Plan's not flawless, but it is flexible.”
“She's gonna think I'm a sleaze!” Heeseung exclaims, dropping his face into his hands. “I'm gonna fuck up my shot before I even have a chance to shoot it!”
Setting his phone aside, Jay crosses his arms. “Alternatively, she might be into you and think that you're not into her because you're not doing anything about it.”
ikeuekeu: TRUTH NUKE
xx_gamer42_xx: my brother in christ how are u gonna get a golden ticket and be too much of a pussy to go into the chocolate factory
The last message is read out by the text-to-speech, sending Jay into a fit of howling laughter, having to muffle it against the nearest cushion he can grab onto. Heeseung hardly manages a weak “shut up” that sounds lame even to his own ears.
He lets his eyes close, expecting respite. Reprieve, even.
He sees your face instead.
An aching groan rumbles from his lips. “Fine, fine! I'll do it!”
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
user12: any updates on the girlfriend arc ?
“Fuck.”
The sharp curse flies out of Heeseung's mouth as he watches his Valorant agent fall to the ground, shot dead. He cards a hand through his hair, murmuring a low “52, Chamber” into his comms before letting his gaze flit over to his vertical monitor.
“'Any updates on the girlfriend arc?'” he scoffs. “Is that what we're calling it?”
At that moment, a notification pops up on his phone—a small ding that vibrates against his desk.
Heeseung flips it over in his hand. The blue light of the screen reflects in the sheen of his eyes. His bottom lip tucks between his teeth, the faintest trace of a smile threatening to appear.
shinramyeo_n: IS THAT A SMILE I SEE
jakelikestobake: oh my god bruh my streamer's the Rizzler
Heeseung has never, in the history of his existence, ever been this indecisive.
After fucking around the whole summer after first year, he put hardly two thoughts worth of deliberation into choosing which branch of engineering he wanted to major in. Only went to one showing when he was apartment hunting because “as long as there's an ethernet port and I can run 144 Hz, it's chill.”
Yet, he's on the path to the Economics building—a walk he's made way more times than he expected—for the sole reason that he might hit it big and catch a glimpse of you again, and he's been stuck in a never ending push and pull the entire way there.
Passes the construction site that's started up work again. ('Jay's a— a no nonsense type of guy. Straightforward and logical. Isn't he trying to bag a job at McKinsey or whatever? He's good at this solution-giving shit, right?')
Stops at a wooden bench in front of a courtyard fountain, burying his face in his hands. ('Who am I kidding? Jay? Jay made his LinkedIn in ninth grade! He doesn't have a soul—')
Eventually, Heeseung manages to back-and-forth himself into the threshold of the lecture hall's northernmost entrance, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans as his eyes scan down the rows of seats.
('Alright, well. Didn't instantly see her the second I stepped in so my life's over. Time to lea—')
A hand waves at him from three rows down.
Face lit up with recognition, you turn around in your seat, whispering something to your friend before waving him over a little more energetically.
Heeseung's breath catches as he spots you. Several thoughts are whirling around in his head (the most coherent one being slight confusion about how you still recognize him). Panic seems to keep the soles of his feet glued to the floor—until they're suddenly moving.
“Heeseung, right?” A smile graces your lips, small but warm. “Do you wanna sit? I was originally saving this seat, but someone—” you shoot a playful glare at the girl next to you, “—has an interview she has to leave for.”
He vaguely recognizes her as Chaewon, one of Jay's friends from high school. She's looking at him knowingly, head cocked to the side—a look he conveniently doesn't meet.
“I...” He dares to peer into your eyes for a half a second. Doesn't catch the slightly optimistic glimmer in them before already looking away. “...Yeah, sure. That'd be great, thanks.”
Class goes by relatively similarly to the first time he met you: in sum, you're actually paying attention to the lecture while Heeseung does anything but. It's only at the end where, rather than leaving, you're still hovering next to him.
Waiting for him, he slowly realizes. “You're staying behind?”
It's the first time he sees your expression shift into something more timid. “If you're free—” you start, “—would you wanna come to the library with me? I have some things to work on, and... I'd like the company.”
It's noon on a weekday. Sunghoon would probably be at the library, slaving away at whatever computer science assignment currently had him shackled to the wall. If Heeseung, God forbid, runs into him at any point and he sees him trailing behind you, there would be a clowning in the group chat like never seen before.
And, sure enough, about two minutes after he walks by a Sunghoon-shaped figure slouched at a bureau, Heeseung feels his phone start to buzz violently in his pocket.
You tilt your head to the side, lips quirked in a teasing smile. “Popular much?”
Embarrassed, he chuckles dryly, silencing his phone with a swift click. “I wish.”
Heeseung's friendship with you is a simple one.
Uncomplicated in a way that, despite the two of you not doing too much actual talking, puts him at ease—a boat drifting on a calm wave. He's never been the type to try and fill dips in conversation by piling on more, but he'll still feel the weight of it—whereas with you, you'll simply be studying, spinning a pen between your fingers and humming a soft tune under your breath, while he tries to peek at you as discreetly as possible.
Silence with you is comfortable.
Then, when momentum builds (“I've gotta go. They're having tryouts for the moot court team in half an hour.” “...Wait—” “Hm? What's up?” “...I've got a ton of physics work to do. Uh, so I'll probably be locked up in the library for the rest of the week, haha.” “Then... then I might join you sometimes. If that's okay, of course.” “Yeah, yeah, no yeah, that's okay. Feel free.”), conversation weaves itself into the space between you.
Heeseung learns that you transferred here from the women's university across town on a scholarship. Your sister had gone here for law school, and you, wanting to do the same, figured it give you the best chance if you did your undergrad and built a network here.
All very academically diligent things that Heeseung, to put it frankly, couldn't really resonate with—but he likes watching your eyes glint as you talk about it. You're determined, he knows that much.
He learns that you're quieter than he'd assumed, based on how readily you spoke to him the first time you met. A bit clumsy, he realizes as the two of you trudge to the nearby shawarma truck and you occasionally bump into his shoulder. He has to pretend like he isn't holding his breath each time you do, and when he finally swallows his nerves down, he manages to puff out his chest enough to tease you about how you “can't walk in a straight line.”
It's sweet, he thinks. You're sweet.
fluffydogpng: someone clip this RIGHT NOW
0148593: hardstuck gold 3 but there's a pretty girl in his dms so maybe we're the real losers in this scenario 💔💔💔💔
The notification is from you. Some create mode reel that you're losing your shit over.
It's stupid. So stupid.
Eyelids drooping, Heeseung reads through it a second, then a third time, before finally flipping his phone back face-down.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Jay's gritting his teeth, trying to ground himself as the muscles in his upper body sear with heat. Two beats goes by—then, he forces himself to push the barbell upward from his body, finishing the last rep in his bench press set.
Metal clangs against metal as he deposits the bar back into its hooks. A gruff sound is drawn from his throat. He stays lying down, taking a few moments to catch his breath before his eyes dart to Heeseung, who's hovering over him.
“That's it? Just classes and the library?” Jay huffs out.
“Pretty much.” Heeseung leans his weight against the equipment. “Food, sometimes.”
Slowly sitting up, Jay unwraps the black wrist straps bound around his wrists, just to wrap them around again more tightly. “Okay, she's clearly not disgusted by you. Invite her.”
“I don't want to, man. She doesn't... seem like the type. She really cares about school.”
“What, so she's a nerd?”
Heeseung kicks him in the shin.
A loud hiss of pain. “I was kidding,” Jay mocks, trying (and failing) to swat him back. “This isn't a teen movie from the 2000s, dumbass. You think that just because she cares about school, she's not gonna want to go to a party? Look at Hoon—those aren't mutually exclusive.”
He gestures for Heeseung to toss him the G Fuel bottle at his feet. “Think about it. A party gives you an excuse to dress real fucking slutty. She'll be yours by the end of the night.”
“Do you ever shut up?”
Jay clicks his tongue. “There's no harm in inviting her,” he emphasizes. “If this goes anywhere, she's gonna eventually find out all the stupid shit you do on the internet anyway. I know you want to 'get it right' or whatever, but if a party is what turns her off from you then it's only doomed from here on out.”
A sigh from the depths of Heeseung's soul is pulled from him. He rubs at his temples as an attempt to clear his mind, even if just for a brief moment.
“Did Chaewon say anything?” he eventually asks, voice quiet—not really sure what answer he's looking for.
“Nope,” Jay says, popping the 'p'. His back collides with padded leather as he lies back down. “Something about 'not tossing her to the wolves'. Says you're an open book, though.”
“Oh, fuck my life.”
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Everyone knows that the voices in your head clock in each night at nine o'clock to make you go through a micro crisis where you become increasingly miserable about your life. Usually they don't get to Heeseung until really, really diabolical hours—but apparently, when it comes to you, he can barely last a few.
(11:02PM) HEESEUNG: had a quick question
The slices of moonlight that pour into the room through half-closed shutters are the only thing preventing Heeseung from wallowing in pitch-black darkness. One arm draped over his forehead, he scowls at the sent message like it personally offended him with its lameness.
“Who am I fucking kidding,” he mutters to himself.
But just as he's about to unsend it, a small, green dot appears next to your name. His thumb pauses mid-motion.
His heart starts to speed up when he sees you've read the message.
It plummets to his ass when he starts getting a call from you.
In Jay's rundown of seven different possible outcomes that Heeseung forced him to give, not once did he mention you calling him would be involved. He's half-delirious, voice shot to hell after his earlier stream with Jake and Sunghoon—and the girl he has a massive crush on chooses now, of all times, to call him for the first time.
Holding his phone in a death grip, Heeseung represses the instinct to fling it across the room like a hot stone. He prepares himself. Clears his throat. Lightly smacks himself a few times.
He uses a shaky finger pushes accept, phone then hastily pressed to his ear. “Hello?”
“Heeseung?”
Your voice is soft. Somehow melodic through the static of the line. A gentle stream of freshwater.
Heeseung's eyes flutter shut as it washes over him, subconsciously pressing the device harder against the side of his head.
“Hey, I saw your message. I would've replied, but the thing is my hands are sort of occupied. Hope this is okay?”
Slowly, Heeseung rolls over in his bed to lie on his side. It takes a moment for him to find his voice. “No, yeah, it's fine. You're busy, then?”
“No, not busy. It's just that I just did my nails, so they're still drying.” A breathy laugh leaves you. “What's up? Is this about this week's homework?”
“Oh, it's—” A feeble cough. “It's nothing important. I was actually wondering if you, uh, wanted to come to a... party. This Friday,” he says, cringing at how the words feel on his tongue.
The small 'oh' you let out makes his stomach churn, but it doesn't carry displeasure more it simply does surprise. “What kind of party? Like a frat party?”
“Yeah, a frat,” Heeseung mumbles, fidgeting with the loose thread of his blanket. “It's at one of the better known ones. Lambda Delta Nu. I don't know if you've heard of it— I know some of the brothers...” he trails off. “...This Friday's the first one of the year, so it's gonna be really big, I guess.”
You're quiet for an uncomfortably long time.
“You don't have to—”
“No, no, I've just— God, you're gonna think I'm lame,” you laugh wryly. “I've just never been to one.”
Heeseung blinks, before a grin unknowingly appears on his face. “Why would I think you've been to one? You went to an all-girls college.”
“I don't know!” you whine. “I didn't do anything in high school, either. Do you like, bring your own drink? Do you have to pay to get in?”
“No, they have drinks. And girls don't.”
“That's... shameless.”
“Tell me about it.”
Suddenly, a loud, incessant vibration comes from your end. Even Heeseung, with his questionable track record of emotional cues, can pick up on the frustration in the sigh you let out. He cautiously prods. “Something wrong?”
“No, I'm just getting a call from my mom,” you say, tone not as light as before. “I've gotta go, sorry. But I'll be there.”
A small pause. “Good night, Heeseung.”
Heeseung's fingers twitch. His heart clogs his throat.
By the time he finishes dwelling on whether to tell you 'good night'—the words already forming on his lips—you've already hung up the call.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
The weight of his leather jacket—Jay's leather jacket, technically, that he'd forced him to wear—is heavy on Heeseung's shoulders.
Even though the party doesn't properly start for another forty minutes, a considerably large swarm of rowdy, half-drunk college students have already accumulated on the house's front lawn, lining up to get in.
Nothing out of the ordinary—Lambda Delta Nu always kicks off the ground with a big, flashy rager. Heeseung can only wrinkle his nose at the thought of how crowded and sweaty it'll get later.
Beer case in hand, he skips past the line, approaching the low, rickety folding table stationed at the foot of the porch. Jake, who's supposed to be helping handle payments, is quite glaringly not doing so—instead sitting backwards atop the table, the neck of an empty beer bottle dangling from his fingers.
“Drinking on the job?” Heeseung deadpans, lightly slamming the case down on the space right next to where Jake is leaning back on his free hand, making the latter startle.
When he turns around, Jake's face splits into a grin. Notoriously lightweight, his cheeks are already flushed a pale red. “I'd personally call it multitasking,” he drawls.
Launching himself up, Heeseung swiftly hops over the table, making his way up to the house and greeting the guys he recognizes along the way. Jake tails along behind him.
“I wanna do some crazy shit tonight,” he says, the scheming evident in his tone. “You gonna match me shot for shot?”
The kitchen island is decked out with all sorts of drinks—beer, liquor, soju, seltzers, coolers, fruit juices. Heeseung's gaze travels over the labels, landing on a Smirnoff Ice.
It opens with a satisfying crack. “Can't. Haven't finished the programming problem set yet.”
Jake stares at him. “Are you deadass?”
“You think I want to be?” Heeseung counters. “Does Minjun have a working PC in his room?”
“I mean, yeah, he does. Wait, so you're going to spend the night doing a fucking problem set?”
“I was busy with stream earlier. I'm basically already done. I'll play one game, go up, do it, and then come back down. It'll take like twenty minutes, max.”
Jake, being familiar with Heeseung's working pace, is thoroughly unconvinced.
Heeseung can't blame him—on any other day, he would be unconvinced too—but today, he would force himself power through.
Because you would be here.
Earlier in the day, you had sent him a voice message (that he replayed an embarrassing number of times) asking him when you should get there, if there was a dress code, and a small catalog's worth of other questions.
You sounded nervous, and he was so, very endeared by it.
Which is why he's so determined to finish his work, submit the shit half-assed if need be, and then come back down. He already isn't fond of the idea of getting to know you at a musty frat party, so he's resolved on at least trying to be a good host.
Fuck, why did he care so much about your opinion?
“Yo, Lee Heeseung! Get your sexy ass over here!” One of the frat brothers, Ren, hollers from beside the beer pong table, echoed by Jake's cackling in the background.
A year older than him, Ren roughly throws his arm around Heeseung's shoulder, messing up his hair as if he were a little kid. “You ready to get shit on?”
“Pfft,” Heeseung scoffs, tongue poking the side of his cheek. “Give me the fucking ball.”
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Heeseung's drunk.
He's tipsy, to be more specific. Not fully drunk, but definitely on the way—and far drunker than he expected to be at this point in the night.
In his defense, it had been the game's fault. The opposite team had gotten lucky with a streak of successful shots that kept him stuck in position, so now he's about four shots (give or take, he hasn't been keeping count) deeper than he'd like to be. A guttural groan is ripped from his chest as another one lands in a cup, drowned out by sound of multiple slaps on his back and the cacophony of people yelling 'shot!' over and over.
“No, no, fuck off, I'm done for now,” Heeseung says semi-coherently, a lazy grin on his face. There's a shot cup that someone's trying to thrust into his hand from every direction. “Fuck off to hell, all of you.”
Deafening music—some shitty rap song—blares through the air, slightly fuzzy at the edges. It thrums through every single one of Heeseung's nerve endings as he drags himself out of the living room.
If someone told Heeseung that half the fucking city was in the Lambda house right now, he would fully believe them without hesitation.
Every inch of property is flooded by people. Some choose to lounge by the pool in the backyard, some chat with their friends in the kitchen. Some choose to swap spit in the most absurd corner of the house. The air is hot and clammy and smells heavily of cigarette smoke.
“My hair's gonna smell like this for days,” he groans to himself.
Heeseung nearly misses the staircase under the mountain of people piled on top of it. There isn't a single fuck in his body he has left to give about all the sweaty people he's pushing aside, his sole objective just to drive through the throng and get to the second floor without being trampled.
The sooner he can get up there, the sooner he can finish his work. The sooner he can finish his work, the sooner he can go back down and get hammered and find you.
You. Fuck, he’d gotten distracted.
You’d gotten here earlier, didn’t you? He should probably text you.
A chipped banister is Heeseung's saving grace, acting as leverage for him to haul himself up the stairs. Soft, erratic pants escape him when he makes it to the top, body bending at the waist as he leans his weight against the wooden railing.
Nearly the whole first floor can be seen from up here. Heeseung's eyes idly scan the different rooms, taking note of certain things—like how Jake's shirt is now off, Jay's drinking with some of his friends from high school, and Sunghoon's hogging the entirety of a couch to himself with a girl stretched out on top of him.
When they break apart so he can trail sloppy kisses down the side of her neck, Heeseung makes eye contact with him over her shoulder.
He cocks an eyebrow, as if to say: That's her?
Sunghoon promptly flips him off.
Snickering, Heeseung pushes off the railing to leave.
The house's bedrooms are all located along a lengthy hallway, decorated with painted oil portraits of the frat's original founders and framed photos of prior generations of brothers. Dragging himself further down, Heeseung tries each of the doors to find the one with a fucked up lock, knowing that one would be Minjun's. Eventually, he finds it at the very end of the hall, pushing into the room without much grace.
Minjun's room is actually nice, to his credit—minimalistic, sleek black walls, accentuated by silver grey details. A flag of the Lambda Delta Nu letters hangs from the dark oak bed frame, next to a hockey jersey slightly dusty from going unworn for a while. Heeseung recognizes some of the miscellaneous things (namely stray clothes) he knows belong to Jake that are scattered around the room.
Then, to top it all off, the lights are switched on, suddenly plunging the room into a deep shade of red.
He snorts. LEDs? Really? Is he fifteen?
Whatever. It doesn't matter. He has all the time in the world to flame him for it when he gets back from Barcelona.
Gingerly, Heeseung peels the weighty jacket off, the leather having begun to stick to his skin. It's draped over the back of the desk chair, leaving him in a white cotton tank top. The air hitting the bare skin of his arms and chest causes a shiver to run through him at the sudden drop in temperature.
He takes a moment, letting clean, smoke-free air circulate through his lungs, before steeling himself.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Heeseung realizes very quickly that trying to code while tipsy fucking sucked.
What he thought would only take twenty minutes to do absolutely does not take only twenty minutes. Trying to parse through walls of code is hard enough sober, let alone with his brain fighting for its life through the dense fog that had settled over it from the alcohol. The only words that leave his mouth during the process are a litany of 'fuck' and 'shit' variations grumbled under his breath each time the code doesn't run properly.
But if there's one thing that studying engineering does for someone, it's teaching them to accept that their fate is doomed from the start—so he tanks the grade, submitting the shitty code just so he doesn't have to look at it any longer.
Heeseung exhales a long-suffering sigh. He had sobered up a bit, having fished a rare water bottle from Minjun's mini fridge that is otherwise entirely filled with Red Bull and soju. The edges of the chair dig into his back as he slumps against it. His right hand aimlessly palms around on the desk, gripping his phone when he feels its boxy shape.
There's a text from Jay, he muses. Several texts.
(11:52) JAY: Yo where the fuck r u
(11:52) JAY: Y/n's looking for you
(11:53) JAY: Tell me Jake isn't serious is your bitchass actually doing homework rn
(11:53) JAY: Do u want an award for being virgin of the year
(11:53) JAY: I sent her ur way
(11:53) JAY: I'm actually going to beat the shit out of u
Heeseung's brain short-circuits.
He's suddenly very conscious of how much of a mess he looks like right now—probably dead to the world, eyes bloodshot from staring at dense code, hair sticking up in a hundred different directions from how many times he's run a frustrated hand through it.
Meeting you in frat guy's bedroom at a party he invited you to probably looks really bad on his part. What if you came up and he ran his mouth? Scared you off? He shouldn't have let those fuckers shovel shots down his throat. He had to fix his hair. Wipe his sweat. Kill Jay—
There's a soft, hesitant knock at the door.
Heeseung freezes.
His heart beats four counts before he calls out hoarsely, “Come in.”
Hinges creaking, the door is carefully opened from the other side. Your head slowly peeks in, uncertainty marring your face. It relaxes with relief when you register that it's actually him in the room.
“Oh, good,” you breathe out, finally pushing into the room. You're clutching a solo cup in one hand, phone in the other. Your skin shines with a light sheen of sweat. “I was really worried that I was gonna walk in on people fucking.”
If you had looked anymore carefully, you'd notice how Heeseung's Adam's apple bobs up, then down.
The music from downstairs gets noticeably more muted. Or maybe turned off entirely? His fists clench, trying to quell his twitching fingers.
You're drenched in crimson in front of him, the red lights painting you in a way that has his mouth running dry. Every shred of his pitiful dignity seems to evaporate as he trails his trembling eyes over your body, latching onto how your shorts delicately squeeze around your thighs. How elegant your neck stretches when you crane it to the side. How your top is cut just low enough.
God help me, I am no better than anyone else.
If Heeseung wasn't so busy staring at you, he might've noticed you staring at him back.
At his tousled hair. How the muscles in his arms rippled as he flexed them unconsciously.
At his lips, maybe. Who knows.
It takes Heeseung longer than he's proud of for him to reel himself back in and tear his gaze from you. The fog clears, music returning to the volume it was at before.
“Are you drunk?” he blurts, finally standing up from his chair.
Your face breaks into a lazy smile. The alcohol in your system has your tongue feeling heavier than usual, honeying your voice and making your words connect with a barely-there slur.
“Nuh uh. I'm not that lightweight. This is only my second drink of the night.” You hold up the half-full cup, the contents swishing around inside.
Suddenly, you tilt your cheek towards him. “Here. Feel.”
Heeseung's eyes widen. “H—Huh?”
“Feel my face,” you repeat, tilting closer.
Just how drunk are you?
Lifting a hand, Heeseung hesitates for a moment before letting the back of his hand carefully press against your offered cheek. The touch is electric, sending a surge from the tips of his fingers up the length of his arm. Your skin is impossibly soft. It yields under his touch like a cloud.
It's also flushed hot, which he makes sure to point out.
You scoff lightly, feigning offense. “That doesn't mean anything.”
“It really does, Y/N,” Heeseung finds himself murmuring softly. He isn't sure what possesses him to then move his hand from your cheek to your forehead—liquid confidence, maybe—but he does.
You don't lean away.
“I met your friend. Jay, I think,” you finally say, breaking away to walk over to the desk.
Heeseung's gaze flickers with disappointment, following your figure as you plop down into the chair. Quite possibly the worst thing you could've told him, but he bites his tongue.
“He seems nice. Turns out we're in the same Econ program group chat. Was he being serious about you doing homework up here?”
The code he'd been writing is still pulled up on the computer screen, which you take the luxury of scrolling through, much to Heeseung's dread. He moves to try to steal the mouse away, which you respond to by immediately snapping your arm out to keep it out of his reach. “Don't look at that.”
“Why?” you ask, as if you're a kid being denied candy.
“Because I did it while drunk. The code can barely run. I don't even know what I wrote.”
“I'm just curious! It's not like I'm gonna judge you— I don't know jackshit about coding.”
Your brows are drawn in a knot that Heeseung has grown familiar with after a lot of staring during library sessions. It's the same look you get when you're stuck on something—whether it's some theoretical concept you can't wrap your head around, or a flashcard you can't seem to remember, no matter how many times it comes up in rotation.
Now, you're glaring at his code as if it's at fault for not magically bestowing you with god-tier computer science powers the second you'd glanced at it.
Suddenly, you're swivelling around in the chair to face him. “Teach me how to code.”
Heeseung sputters. “What?”
“Teach me how to code,” you repeat, batting your lashes.
Pursing his lips, he tries to push down a smile. “You came to the biggest party of the year and you want to learn how to code?”
“Am I high or are we not at the same party?”
“I wasn't coding willingly. Shit, you really are a huge nerd.”
You whine. “I already did all the party stuff! Chaewon introduced me to her friends and we danced and I watched a few games of beer pong. I already hit the quota I set for night. And... and I want to spend time with you,” you say, voice growing quieter towards the end.
Heeseung knows it's probably the alcohol talking, but that doesn't stop him from instantly softening around the edges.
You're just so— so cute right now. Talkative and clingy in a way that stirs something gooey in his chest, in a way that he never expected to see. He wonders if this is real at all, and yet would actively still jump into the deep end even if he knew it wasn't.
“Okay,” he murmurs softly, poking your forehead. “Don't sulk.”
Heeseung shifts so that he's leaning over you from the side, and this time, you don't resist when he takes the mouse from you, letting your hand fall away. Seconds later, a blank program is pulled up on the screen.
“Three basic things you gotta know about writing code,” he starts. “Variables, conditionals, and loops. Variables store stuff—”
His breath stutters when he feels your chin perch innocently on the nook of his bicep.
You're unfazed when he glances down at you, simply staring ahead at what he's typing. He finds his voice again, meeker than it was.
“—conditionals decide what happens, and loops loop things. So, if I wrote an if statement, like if x is greater than five, then...”
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
The wonderful world of Python can only keep someone entertained for so long—Heeseung thinks it a miracle you lasted as long as you did before starting to not-so-subtly hint at wanting to do something else.
Drink, that is. Fiending to drink.
The smart decision was probably to get you to pace yourself, yet Heeseung's never claimed to be smart. Nothing he's ever done really has.
He's selfish. Selfish and tipsy. He wants to savour this endearing side of you because he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to see it again.
That's how you both end up here: sat side-by-side on the floor, leaning back against the bed frame, drinking from soju bottles—yours strawberry, his grape—that Heeseung had taken from Minjun's mini fridge. Somewhere in his mind, he makes a mental post-it to buy them back for him.
Conversation flows. You talk about what it was like spending your entire life in all-girls schools, and he might've let it slip that he's a streamer (to which he immediately shuts down all attempts you make at trying to get him to show you his channel, not matter what you said or how you pouted).
Things about school, things about people, things stupid beyond imagination (“D'you think I could get Clavicular to collab with me?” “What?”)—it all comes out in a natural stream of thoughts.
At some point, you start to grow quiet. As if you're sobering up, even though your bottle is getting emptier.
Heeseung notices. He matches you. “Tired?”
You shake your head. “Not yet. This is just how I get when I drink. I get loud and then I get quiet,” you explain, words slurring a bit.
It's later in the night, so the rush of the party had settled down, though there's still a decent amount of commotion, mostly from people hanging out in and around the pool.
“Heeseung?” you mumble.
“Yeah?”
“Do you ever feel like you're just floating through your existence?”
Heeseung's in the middle of taking a swig from his bottle. The question sends him into a mild coughing fit, the corners of his eyes instantly watering. “Don't you think that's a bit—cough—bit too loaded of a—cough—question?”
You give him a sheepish smile before letting your head drop back, a soft thud against the mattress. “Sorry. I'm a little out of it right now. Forget I said anything, actually.”
Wiping his mouth with his hand, Heeseung turns to look at you. “I've done viewer counselling sessions for my streams. My chat says I'm a good listener.” He sounds so lame to himself, but you laugh, and that matters more.
Silence falls over the two of you. Just when he thinks it's cemented itself and you no longer want to talk, you mumble: “I dunno if I actually want to be a lawyer.”
A pause. “Okay,” Heeseung says slowly. Processing the statement, turning it over a few times in his head. “Why?”
You rub at your eyes with the heels of your palms, dragging them down your face. “That's the thing—I don't know,” you groan, words garbled from alcohol. “Like, my mom wanted to be a lawyer but didn't get into law school, so that's why she's in real estate. Then, my sister passed the bar with flying colours and is now this big, successful lawyer who brings home two hundred grand a year. So... so I'm sorta supposed to do all that too, you know? Do my diligence. I'm as much my mother's daughter as my sister is. And I am! That's why I'm here in the first place—”
Heeseung's hands gently grasp your own flailing ones, stilling them before placing them back into your lap. “Woah, woah, chill. You're rambling. A lot.”
“—I just—I know I'm succeeding. I have medals and titles and resources and a scholarship here and yet—when I look at my mom and see how happy she is whenever she brings these things up, I don't... feel what she feels.”
You trail to a close like air escaping a punctured balloon, voice thin as insecurity seeps into your pores. “I don't feel what she feels and I don't know what's wrong with me.”
Heeseung remains quiet for a long time.
Horror is the only fitting word that describes the expression on your face. A shaky hand cards through your hair as you scramble to apologize. “S—sorry. I don't usually... overshare like that, fuck—”
“Y/N,” he cuts you off. “You know I'm only an electrical major because Jake is too, right?”
You blink a few times, trying to clear the dense fog shrouding your mind. “Seriously?” you croak after a moment.
“Okay, no, not fully,” he chuckles dryly. “But like, half seriously. I chose electrical because my highest grades last year were in the electrical courses they make us take. Having a friend sorta tipped it over, I guess.”
Shifting his body so that he's fully facing you, Heeseung props his elbow up on the mattress, resting his head in his hand. “Other reasons were if I chose a major I'm good at, I might have a better chance at scoring internships. Or doing a masters or some other bullshit that would "further my professional career". Point is none of those have anything to do with what I want because I don't know what the fuck I want.”
“Streaming's fun,” he hums. “My dad doesn't think it's a real job, though. So I get what you mean. At least, I hope I do.”
He takes a moment to carefully select his next words, going over them in his head to make sure they'll sound fine rolling off his tongue.
“There's no rule that says you're 'supposed' to do anything. You have free will,” he says. “Right now, being a lawyer sounds more like your mom's dream, not yours. But maybe that'll change, and you actually do want to be a lawyer in the future. Who knows. Either way, you'll be the only one to make that decision when the time comes. Not your mom. Not your sister. You.”
Heeseung can't decipher the emotions that are pooling in your eyes. He's worried it's a bad sign—he's never been the best with empathy or knowing exactly what to say, and he's certain that he's not more graceful while tipsy than he is sober—but you shift to face him.
Legs unfurling from your chest to cross on top of each other. Inching closer until your face is a breath's away from his.
Tension permeates the small space, so thick and palpable that Heeseung can practically taste it. His eyes trace the slope of your nose, the curve of your cupid's bow, the strands of messy hair that he ached to brush out of your face. Unknowingly, he wets his lips—a movement your eyes follow.
Hope is scary. Fragile. All it takes it one wrong step, one toe out of line, and it can be extinguished with the gentlest gust of wind.
Heeseung dares to hope.
“If you ask me... I think you're enough just as you are.”
You lean in. He lets you.
You hesitate. He doesn't pull away—and a hundred, thousand fireworks set off in his chest when your lips slot against his.
They're soft, tentative. Just a little bit awkward and uncoordinated in their movements, but Heeseung doesn't mind. He lets you steer the ship where you want it to go.
The kiss is brief, only lasting a couple seconds before your mouth detaches from his with a soft smack. He expects you to pull away, to no longer be able to breathe in the faint notes of jasmine in your perfume on every inhale—but you don't.
You keep the sliver between you an inch wide, nose nudging against his, breath still fanning against his skin in warm puffs. Lingering.
You push yourself up onto your knees, a yelp escaping you as you stumble, the ends of your hair skimming his face. Heeseung's hands instinctively find your waist to steady you. He revels in the way the dip feels against his palms. A meek sorry comes from you, which he returns with a small it's fine.
Shifting closer, the front of your thigh presses against his side. He sucks in a sharp, shuddering breath as you sling yourself over him, helping you down as you settle into his lap, thighs bracketing his.
Heeseung has to crane his neck up ever so slightly to meet your gaze.
You're gorgeous. He's thought that since the very day he met you, but this—your bare skin scorching his hands, the sight of you on top of him—has his mind going mushy and blank. A barely audible groan slips out of him as your arms sling around his neck, fingers gently threading through the hair at his nape.
“You're pretty.” The words come out in a rush, not caring if you know. Needing you to know. “God, you're so fucking pretty.”
“You're buttering me up,” you say, your retort lacking any real contempt. He only shakes his head, reconnecting your lips, deeper, escalating.
Heeseung's heartbeat is in his ears. The ache that's been sitting his chest, tamped down but constantly brewing, springs forth the moment he feels your tongue swipe against the seam of his lips. They part instantly, letting your tongue press in, wet and hot—the strawberry flavouring mixed with the slight bitterness of alcohol you'd been drinking hitting his taste buds.
“I want you.” You sigh the words into his mouth, and he swallows them fervently. “Please...”
Heeseung breathes out a shaky laugh. “Neither of us are sober.”
“You don't want me?”
“Fuck, I never said that.”
Eager hands fist at the hem of his tank, which he lets you slip off and toss aside, his entire top-half left bare. His skin is flushed hot, chest heaving as your lips trail down his neck, his collarbone, his sternum—unable to control the low moan he lets out as they latch onto his abdomen, sucking a hickey into the skin. “F—fuck...”
When you come back up, Heeseung pulls you back down flush against him. One hand slides under your thigh, the other slipping into the back of your shorts, lightly running over the skin there. A full-body shiver runs through him as the tips of his fingers brush against the texture of your waistband.
“Lace?” he muses, as if it doesn't undo him.
“Shut up.”
“I didn't say I was complaining. You know I'm not complaining, right?”
“Shut. Up.”
And how quickly he complies, slanting his lips to yours again. Heeseung feels feverish—choking out a high-pitched gasp as your hips grind down. He's throbbing against your ass, his entire arm wrapping around your waist like an iron band to pull you against him harder, coaxing you to give him more friction, his head lolling back when you do. He finds the ribbon of your top at your back, tugging it loose—
“Shit, someone get him out!”
Someone's shouting outside. Heeseung doesn't hear it, fingers fumbling with the clasp of your bra—
It grows louder. Fucking hell, shut up, he thinks, brows knitting together as he tries to focus on you, on how you feel against him—but your movements slowly come to a halt.
“What's that noise?” you whisper.
Heeseung shakes his head before feverishly kissing down your neck, trying to reassure you. “Nothing, nothing. C'mon, baby, keep going—”
But the commotion only seems to multiply, growing until it's a cacophony of panicked and confused voices. Concerned, you look over your shoulder towards the window, your grip in his hair loosening.
He groans into your skin as he feels you start to shift off his lap. It feels like he's never wanted anything more desperately than to keep you against him—but he lets you climb off, hands falling limply to the side.
Head tilting towards the ceiling, Heeseung blinks a few times, trying to clear the hazy fog from his head (and calming himself down so he doesn't explode) before standing up begrudgingly and dragging himself over to the window.
Heeseung peeks outside. His brow furrows with confusion, then concern. Instead of everyone being littered around the backyard doing their own things, every head is turned towards the pool.
Jake is currently being hauled out of the pool like a wet dog by Jay and Sunghoon, face contorted in pain.
“What's going on?” Your voice is quiet. Uneasy.
“I don't know. I think something happened to Jake,” Heeseung says gravely, breaking away from the window to pick up his shirt from the floor. “I— fuck, I'm going to kill him.”
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Pebbles dig into Heeseung's socked feet—he couldn't be bothered with shoes—as he rushes out into the backyard towards where Sunghoon, Jay, and a couple other Lambda guys are crowded around Jake. He calls out, “What's going on here?”
Jake's leaning back against his hands, one of his legs outstretched in front of him. He's red as a lobster, from his face down to his neck, and also soaking wet, clothes sticking to the outline of his body, dripping water down that washes the concrete a darker shade—yet he only waves a dismissive hand.
“Nothing,” he slurs. “I'm—hic—fine.”
Sunghoon scoffs, hands on his hips. “Einstein here decided to jump from the roof and didn't realize he was jumping into the shallow end because he's shitfaced.”
He then turns to Heeseung, looking him up and down. “Where've you been? I haven't seen you in, like, two h— do you have a fucking boner right now?”
Much to his horror, Heeseung looks down to find a very noticeable tent in his pants. He exhales—zen, he thinks, be zen—before slipping his leather jacket off to tie around his waist. “Shut the fuck up.”
Apparently, Jake is coherent enough to stare at Heeseung's crotch, see that he's hard, and put two and two together. “Holy shit, did I cockblock you?”
“Yes, you fu— whatever. It's not important. We need to call the ambulance.”
“Jay's already on it,” Sunghoon says, jerking his head over in Jay's direction.
A small distance away, Ren—who's also visibly drunk but somehow still manages to climb onto a patio table with falling—cups his mouth to create a makeshift megaphone before yelling at the top of his lungs: “Alright, wrap it up! We're done here! If you're not a brother or fucking a brother, get the fuck out!”
Loud groaning resounds throughout the yard. People are evidently upset that they'd been cut off for the night, but eventually, the crowd disperses. Some staggering as their sober friends haul them out, some laughing on their phones—Jake would probably be on a hundred people's Snapchat stories and at the top of the university's subreddit by the morning.
Heeseung finds you standing in the doorway of the sliding screen door that leads to the yard. You look noticeably worried.
His eyes soften.
“What happened?” you ask as he approaches you.
Standing in front of you, Heeseung brings his hands up to cup your face, smoothing out the crease between your eyes with the pad of his thumb.
“Jake's jumped into the pool and fucked up his leg. An ambulance is on the way,” he says, chuckling at your deadpan expression.
Heeseung peers into your eyes. His heart stutters. “I'm sorry,” he whispers. “About us getting interrupted, I mean.”
You shrug, arms wrapping around his waist, resting your cheek against his chest. “'s whatever. In fact, I was kinda going into this whole frat party thing with the expectation that there would be some bullshit.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Were your expectations met?”
A soft, pondering hum leaves you. “Quite.”
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
The hospital waiting room is deserted at this hour, save for the anxious mother and her sleeping son huddled together. Heeseung's shoes click against tile as he makes his way back to the area, two paper cones filled with water in his hands.
Jake had broken his leg. With his parents not in the country, Heeseung had offered to stay and wait until he gets settled with a room.
You had stayed with him.
Rounding the corner, he sees you yawning. A faint smile tugs at his lips.
“You don't have to stay here, you know,” he says, handing you a cone. It's the third time he's said it since the two of you got here—and you've been stubborn about it each time. “I'll call you an Uber.”
You accept the water, taking a sip before giving him a shrug.
“You'll be bored. Besides, I'm not tired,” you say, as if he hadn't just caught you in the act.
Heeseung looks like he's about to refute you again, but ends up dropping it. He plops down into the hard waiting room chair, throwing the water back like a shot. Ice cold water slides down his dry throat.
Silence. There's an elephant standing in the corner, staring the two of you dead in the eye.
“So,” he starts awkwardly.
You smack your lips. “So.”
“...I, uhm, I think you're cool.”
He sees you turn to face him in the corner of his vision, and absolutely refuses to meet your eyes. “Heeseung, you had your hand in my pants.”
Absentmindedly, he starts folding his empty paper cone, sealing the edges to make a rectangle while grumbling something about how you 'can't just lead in with that.'
“I might like you,” he gets out.
“I might like you,” you copy mockingly.
“I'm being serious!”
“You just told me that you 'think I'm cool.'”
Sighing, Heeseung drops his face into his hands, wrestling with his nerves and feelings and the stupid little flips you make his heart do. Eventually, his words come out in an embarrassed mumble. “I think you're really pretty and sweet and I'd like to go out with you.”
If he had been looking at you, then he would've seen you pursing your lips, trying to hold back a smile.
A few seconds pass before Heeseung feels your head rest on his shoulder.
“I'd like that.”
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
“Chat,” Heeseung claps his hands together, closing out of his browser so that his camera can be set as full-screen. “I posted on Twitter earlier that we have a special guest joining us today.”
user888: oh my god this is so exciting
heeseungism: DAD PLEASEEE LET US SEE MOM PLEASEEEEEE
Heeseung glances out the corner of his eye.
You're sitting beside him just out of frame, fingers fidgeting nervously with the hem of your cardigan. The sight makes his chest tighten with fondness.
“You look nervous,” he points out.
You shoot him a look, despite letting him pull you up to stand. “Am not.”
He only laughs in return, hands warm on your hips as he guides you into view.
“Alright. Chat, this is my girlfriend, Y/N,” Heeseung announces, chin hooking over your shoulder. “She's a little shy, so don't be fucking weird and scare her off.”
cherryxxi: HELLO!!!!! 🥹🥹🥹🥹
applejuicemaster: bruh why am i lowkenuinely proud of u
reynakisser_: Wtf she's so out of ur league. pick ME!!!!! HE DONT KNOW HOW TO HANDLE ALLAT
Half-lidded eyes scanning the racing chat, Heeseung's lips quirk upwards at everyone's reaction.
summary. making a fool out of himself in front of three thousand people on the regular sure never taught heeseung how to talk to pretty girls—a realization he only has when you (the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen) walk into his soul-sucking economics class and all he’s got in manpower is himself, his idiot friends, and a deeply unhelpful twitch chat.
pairing. streamer!heeseung x y/n
↳ ft jay, jake, sunghoon, and twitch chat
genre. college au, twitch streamer au, fluff, classmates to lovers
word count. 12.0k
disclaimers. heeseung-centric/pov, swearing, alcohol use, kissing/suggestive activities while drunk, smoking, some crudeness bc they're stupid college guys, pacing is highkey ass i'm sorry
released. 03.09.2026
author's note. this is a prequel to sparks but the events are slightly tweaked and can be read entirely as a standalone! my take on loser heeseung and the pinnacle of my streamer!enha career. pls tell me all ur thoughts about everything!!
masterlist
any feedback is appreciated ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ᗜ<)
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
burgermuncher123: what fucking idiot streams their course selection
When Lee Heeseung goes live at a time of day that isn’t four in the morning, people fear the worst.
The most widely accepted explanation is that he was kidnapped because he “looked kidnappable.” Some propose that he must’ve been beaten up by those kids he was cyberbullying on Among Us VR a few days ago. Something, something, “Mr. Beast video”—the stream notification might as well have been a national emergency alert.
But as they flood into his corner of Twitch, everyone quickly realizes that their streamer was, in fact, perfectly fine.
There he is, in all his unassuming, wonky headset glory. The storage room he passionately defends as a bedroom is still comfortably barren, bathed in a cozy golden light by the morning sun that filtered in through the dented shutters—something softer on the eyes than the blinding white of his ring lights. His keyboard collection is tucked away in one corner, a bulky dehumidifier running in the other.
gopissgirl: Bro this fucking ragebaiter. look at his Stupid ass
mavuikasbikecanrunmeover: HE’S NOT DEAD!!!!!
xyz_: yo his bald spot finally isn’t reflecting the light peepoCheer
Heeseung cracks his knuckles. Twists his neck, then his back.
“Alright, chat.” A sigh from the depths of his soul leaves him. “We’re fighting a war today.”
It turns out the earth-shattering event that warrants a Heeseung stream at nine-thirty in the morning is his second-year course selection. Or, in more efficient terms, war—because if he had to spend one more second in the torture chamber that is Professor Jenkins’ circuits lecture, he will die in those trenches.
hoonbot: ARE YOU TAKING 12 COURSES HELLO
jeikeushim: i will NEVER regret switching to accounting
user14: why the fuck are u taking econ1130 man 😭😭
“Okay, okay, chat,” Heeseung hunches forward, elbows knocking into a crumpled Monster can before firmly planting on the desk. His hands are steepled, voice low and dead serious, as if he’s about to deliver the most unrivaled, undeniable justification for why he, an engineering student, is going to take Economic History in the Twentieth Century.
“Listen. I need to fulfill a breadth credit this year and Jay said the prof is super chill. Plus, I saw a guy on Reddit say this was a bird course. I’ll be fine.”
applesauceeater: oh this guy’s so Cooked
girlqueenpussyboss67: whenever sunghoon starts talking about coding i like to come watch u cuz it reminds me that it’s ok to be a little stupid in the head <3
“I like to come watch you because it reminds me that it’s okay to be a little stupid in the he—” A loud, indignant sputter. He pushes himself up, walks to the back of the room (“the gall,” the microphone manages to pick up) before sitting back down and scooting back towards the camera.
“Mods, ban the guy who said that. Also, ban the guy who brought up the bald spot I do not have, and ban the word ‘bald’ from my chat.”
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Heeseung needs to kill Jay.
And that one guy from Reddit. And himself from two months ago.
Some would argue that he’s being too much of a hater barely a week into the term, but Heeseung can barely find enough fucks to give about this class at all, let alone question the ethics of his internal Death Note.
Circuits with Jenkins, Heeseung decides, was heaven compared to this. The classroom hadn’t been bad. Jake and Sunghoon had shared it with him, so he could spend his classes fucking around on Roblox Fruit Tycoon Simulator rather than paying attention. Sometimes, Jenkins would grace the class by rambling on about her ongoing divorce with her good-for-nothing husband. In retrospect, what had he been complaining over? Certainly nothing worse than this.
The Economics department holds its courses in one of the campus’ oldest buildings: a quaint, beautiful thing—Romanesque in its turrets and arched windows and brickwork. It’s a shame the outside is the only part of it that seems maintained at all, since Heeseung’s lecture hall seems a cough and two sneezes away from falling apart completely.
No windows, awful ventilation, sticky tables. The sound of the professor’s gnarly smoker voice. Heeseung laments about how he can’t enjoy the daylight he never enjoys anyway—and promptly decides to make it Jay’s problem.
Jay—who’d been having a steak burrito in the student commons between classes before being intercepted by Heeseung and cursed out so colourfully he’d have thought he’d killed his parents—blinks at his friend.
“Dude,” he says, more dumbfounded than anything. “Do you not background check your classes? Even a little? The economics building is straight dogshit. Everyone knows that.”
Heeseung wonders why his hands are still at his sides and not wrapped around Jay’s throat. “That’s not the point. You said that he was chill,” he seethes.
Jay takes another bite, voice muffled by the food in his mouth. “He is chill. Plays golf with my dad on Sundays at our country club.”
“He sounds like he chain-smokes twenty-five cigs a day. He calls everyone ‘kid’, but it’s, like, condescending. Not in a cool way like Brad Pitt does it.”
“Nothing to do with how chill he is, man. Besides, you’re lucky you only have to take an easy course and not something like econometrics.”
“I know you did not just say that to me of all people,” Heeseung grits out, having to physically restrain himself from making a colouring book joke.
A thinly veiled snicker, hastily covered up by a weak cough. “Well, you’re outta luck. Can’t drop courses until next week.”
“Whatever, I’ll just skip until then—”
“Go and I’ll give you fifty dollars for it.”
Unbothered by how Heeseung is gawking at him, Jay finishes the last bits of his food, crumpling the foil into a little ball. For all the pity he felt that Heeseung actually took the class he’d only recommended as a half-joke, he also felt a strong urge to make his friend suffer, to put it ineloquently. One of his eyebrows is slightly quirked, as if to ask if it was a deal or not.
God, rich people are freaks, Heeseung curses in his mind. On what planet does he benefit from that? What am I, his little show pony? This is ridicul—
“Deal, you son of a bitch,” he hisses, snatching his bag and storming out.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Making bank, Heeseung resolves, has to take priority.
Not that he particularly wants to indulge Jay’s sick, twisted wishes—but rather because fifty dollars is fifty dollars, and to someone like Jay, fifty dollars is a tissue to blow his nose with.
Three more agonizing lectures go by before the day miraculously arrives: the last time Heeseung would ever have to attend this godforsaken class. Never again would he have to hear a lick about post-war economic development or anything of the sort.
The lecture hall is still as dreadful as ever, though noticeably emptier than it’d been the first week, which Heeseung decides that he cannot wait to contribute to. He slumps into an empty seat (still uncomfortably warm from whoever was sitting here before him), slots his headphones over his ears, and prepares to mentally clock out for the next two hours.
Perhaps the universe is finally on his side.
Sure, having to be here at all is a huge drag—but for once, the walk to the Economics building hadn’t been polluted with the smell of chemicals from neverending construction. His Discover Weekly had refreshed and wasn’t ass.
And now, in a few hours time, he would officially be fifty dollars richer, spending his sweet new free time playing FIFA and fucking up a bag of M&M’s and—
Someone taps his shoulder.
Heeseung jolts at the touch, eyes sliding half-open. Despite half his vision being blocked by his hood and music blasting him towards deafness, he can vaguely sense a presence next to him. Figuring it’s someone passing through, he moves to pick his bag up from where it is at his feet—but the tap comes again.
One of his hands moves to pause his music, the other sliding his headphones off one ear.
“—cuse me, sorry. Is this seat taken?”
Heeseung finally bothers to look up, and—
Fuck. Oh, fuck my life.
There’s little that can phase a guy who accidentally ripped his pants on stream and made “BUZZ LIGHTYEAR BOXERS” the number one trend on Twitter for a full twenty-four hours. He’s seen it all, done it all—worn the maid outfit, read fanfiction of him and Sunghoon, the works. Figured he'd already been enlightened to the highest degree after watching Megan Fox in Jennifer's Body when he was fourteen.
So, maybe he should feel a little pathetic about how openly he's gawking, but he's far too busy trying to figure out if he's hallucinating the ridiculously pretty girl in front of him.
Lips pursed, you manage a small, nervous smile. Your head swivels to look around the lecture hall. “Um, if it’s taken, I’ll just—”
“It’s not taken,” Heeseung blurts out, as if his tongue had finally screwed itself back on. “It’s— no one’s sitting here, no. You can sit.”
Your eyes soften with relief, mumbling a quiet “thanks.”
Heeseung closes his eyes. Shuts them so hard that they start to hurt from the pressure and colours start exploding behind his eyelids. Anything to distract himself from how his throat is closing up because the prettiest girl he never even fathomed could exist had just knocked her knee into his as she's settling into the cramped seat.
So much for mentally clocking out.
The lecture hall quiets as the professor coughs into the mic. Lights dim, and a PowerPoint that was easily made ten years ago is projected onto the pull-down screen, crooked from the audience's point of view. Heeseung can feel the drowsiness from the warm, stuffy air threatening to pull him under.
Breathing in heavily, he’s ready to drown himself out again, but a whisper comes from beside him, making him stiffen. “This class has been going on for a while, right? Did I miss anything?”
He swallows, voice rough. “Uh, no. Just standard syllabus stuff… this guy drones a lot.”
A giggle, followed by a sarcastic sigh. “Read his reviews so my hopes aren’t high. But it’s required, so what can you do?”
Your elbow is propped up on the seat arm between him and you, jaw cradled in the palm of your hand—just shy of brushing against the fabric of his hoodie. “I would’ve taken it in the winter term, but there was one person in a group chat I’m in who said he was ‘super chill’, so he can’t be that bad, right?”
Heeseung could kiss Jay on the mouth.
For the remainder of the lecture, the two of you are silent. You’d since slipped on a pair of clear-framed glasses, perched on the slope of your nose as you diligently take notes—while Heeseung’s trying not to piss himself every time you tuck a loose lock of hair back behind your ear in the corner of his vision.
When noon hits, the lecture hall rumbles with noise again as everyone is filing out. Heeseung from literally two hours ago would be bewildered by his current self still being in his seat rather than having already sprinted out the door.
“I never caught your name,” you say, cutting through the noise. He can hear your voice clearly now that you aren’t whispering. “I’m Y/N.”
He wets his lips. “Heeseung,” he manages.
“Nice to meet you. I’ll see you around?”
“Y— Yeah.”
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Heeseung does not drop Economic History in the Twentieth Century.
He'd spent a good ten minutes logged into his student portal—the 'withdraw' button he'd been so ready to press staring him down as if daring him to even think about it anymore—before closing out of the tab. Admitting defeat.
Which means he doesn’t free up any time in his schedule to play FIFA, nor does he get fifty dollars from Jay (despite his negotiations that he’d technically fulfilled what he’d been asked to do).
All he really got out of this ordeal was unsolicited emotional turmoil over a girl he’s had barely half a conversation with.
Two full days have passed since he's met you, and not once had you strayed from his thoughts for more than a few minutes. In all honestly, he's can't remember exactly what your features look like from off the top of his head—but he remembers that you had outrageously pretty eyes and hair and a sweet lilt to your voice that makes him want to tear his hair out. The feeling you'd caused to stir in his chest lingers, stubbornly refusing to leave.
heeshings: alt revived bc my streamer got action. we all cheered
washingmachine42069: Yo you talk to women ?
Heeseung groans loudly, hands dragging down his face. “You don’t get it, chat,” he fake sobs. “She’s so fucking pretty. Like—”
Shooting up, his arms wave around as he attempts to defend himself. “—I literally sat down, ready to honk, shooo, mimimimi pass out, and then I feel this tap on my shoulder. I’m like ‘bro, who the fuck is this’. I turn my head and boom. I'm at the pearly white gates. It's God. I saw God—I literally entered heaven. You guys wouldn’t drop the class either! Stop pretending you would!”
user8: based on how you’re reacting to this i can tell u had No game
jayparkk_ ✔: respond to my msgs
jayparkk_ ✔: shouldn’t u be thanking me licking my shoes or some shit i literally locked u in for life
“‘I literally locked you in for life’ you didn’t lock me into shit,” Heeseung grits out, pointing an accusing finger at the webcam. “All you’ve done is made it so I have to keep going to these fucking awful classes.”
jayparkk_ ✔: aint no one forcing you into anything lil bro 😹😹😹
rima_ovo: “all you’ve done is cause a gorgeous woman to enter my life” my steak too juicy. my lobster too buttery. We need to kill this guy
xddd111: dw bout it we’re gonna manifest her for you KEEP YO CHIN UP KING 💯💯💯
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
The aged playground swing creaks as Sunghoon settles into it.
“I thought you dropped that class,” he comments, offhanded.
Perhaps it's a bit concerning—and sad—for three grown men to be loitering at the local children's playground at one in the morning. Even the stray tabby that likes to wander around the area is giving them what could seriously be a stink eye.
But Heeseung had been throwing so egregiously in Valorant that it was making Sunghoon rank down, so the latter had to put his foot down and stage an intervention.
Heeseung's quiet from his spot in the whale spring rider.
His lanky form is folded up in the small space, chin perched on his tightly drawn-up knees. Frigid air chips at his cheeks as he stares at no particular spot on the ground. “I was going to. Jay was even gonna give me fifty bucks for it—” neither Jake nor Sunghoon comment on how that makes no sense, “—But I raise you this: pretty girl.”
Sunghoon rolls his eyes. “You didn't drop the course that made you want to kill yourself because of some eye candy?” he asks incredulously.
Jake snorts loudly, fishing a pack of cigarettes out from the back pocket of his jeans. Flicking the top open, he slips one out with slender fingers. “Hoon, haven't you been eye-fucking your stats TA for weeks now? Don't think you're reaaaaally one to talk.” —to which Sunghoon shamelessly ignores.
“First of all, speak on her with some respect,” Heeseung retorts. “She's not just eye candy. Have you considered that she had a good impact on my mental health? Exhibit A: I don't want to kill myself when I think of that class anymore.”
“Man, if this girl is as great as you make her out to be, you gotta shoot your shot or something,” Jake says, voice slightly muffled. “Cig?”
Heeseung declines. Lighting a flame, then taking a drawn-out drag, Jake continues: “'cause you can't just sit around on your ass all day, hoping she'll pick you if you ogle her stupidly enough.”
“Fuck off, I wasn't gonna do that anyway. Either way, literally what business do I have shooting my shot? I don't know anything other than her first na—”
“Y/N L/N,” Sunghoon's drawling cuts through the air.
“Philosophy, politics, and economics major. Wants to go to law school. Transferred from Hanhwa Women's College. Sister's...” he squints at his screen. “—sister's a big shot lawyer downtown.”
Silence. “How the fuck did you do that?”
Shrugging, Sunghoon plucks the cigarette from between Jake's fingers, bringing it up to his own lips. “Not hard. Here, want to see it again?”
He taps around on his phone for half a minute or so. “Jason's seeing Charlotte Kim. The volleyball one.”
Jake shoots up from where he's been lying on the ground, several woodchips stuck to the back of his hoodie. “He is?”
Sunghoon pulls up a photo on his screen, which Jake immediately snatches into his own hands. “Yeah. He's your neighbour, dumbass. How the hell do you not know this?”
“Dude, I've been crashing at Lambda recently 'cause Minjun's on exchange, so his room's empty. It's fucking sick, Ren's girl makes the craziest Belgian waffles—”
The sound of a car horn blares through the quiet of the night, causing a flock of birds to flee from where they'd been nestled in the trees. Heeseung's gaze snaps over, squinting as Jay's familiar figure locks the sleek convertible before slinking up to the group.
He's baffled at the sight. “The fuck are you guys doing?”
“Therapy,” Jake calls out, shaking the cigarette pack in the air. “Cig?”
Jay takes one, catching the lighter Sunghoon tosses his way. “I saw you guys on 360. You know you look really fucking weird, right?”
“We, gang. If we went down right now, you'd be part of it.”
Heeseung's hates how Jay turns to him with a gleam in his eyes.
“Listen, Heeseung,” he starts. “I know you already sorta owe me your first-born child for being the best wingman ever, but since I'm so gracious—I have a plan, and on my balls it's going to end your bitchless streak.”
Planting a solid hand on Heeseung's shoulder, he says, with all the seriousness in the world: “You've gotta talk to her.”
The three of them stare at him in complete silence, broken only by the woodchip Sunghoon chucks at the back of his head. “Shut the fuck up, dude. You're pissing me off.”
Jay hisses, shooting a scathing glare at Sunghoon while rubbing at the spot he'd been struck. “If you'd let me finish,” he snarks, turning back to Heeseung. “You've gotta get her to warm up to you. Be proactive. Women love that shit. But only if they like you.”
“And what if she, I don't know, doesn't like me?”
“That's what the talking part is for, idiot. You've gotta gauge whether she fucks with you or not. She's friends with Chaewon, so I can even help you on that front. Then, if she seems sorta into you, invite her to the Lambda party.”
Heeseung blinks. “You want me to win her over by talking to her and then inviting her to a frat party?” he sputters. “Who am I, Jake?”
“Do you want to become co-president of the eye-fucking club with Sunghoon and expect her clothes to magically be on the floor?”
Another woodchip is aimed at Jay's head, which he manages to dodge this time—only for another to fling square into his forehead, this time from Heeseung.
“Ow!” Jay yelps. “Fuck's your problem?”
“I'm not trying to fuck her, dickhead.”
Jay gives him deadpan look. “What I mean is that the bar's in hell. You've gotta raise it at least a little.”
His gaze is determined. Unwavering. Freakishly inspiring. It has Heeseung nodding along, despite not knowing and, frankly, being scared of why. As if a weird seed of motivation was planted inside of him, growing, snowballing.
Jake's cigarette is on its last legs. He's about to let it drop and snuff it out with his sole until it's snatched out of his grasp by Heeseung, who hastily presses it between his lips.
A rough inhale. Nicotine courses through his thrumming veins. A calm exhale.
He nods firmly. “I'm going to do this.”
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Slam.
The wood of his desk is cold against Heeseung's forehead. “Chat, I can't fucking do this.”
Something might have genuinely possessed him last night, because whatever speck of conviction Heeseung had about getting to know you was nowhere to be found the second he woke up that morning.
He's been spiralling in a whirlpool of preemptive humiliation and despair since—so much so that he went live with the stream title “FUCK MY STUPID BAKA LIFE!!!!!!”, which his mods, fearing the wrath of Twitch's Terms of Service, lovingly re-titled to “heeseung girl crashout #2”.
Jay accompanies him this time, sprawled out on armchair at the back of the room. Legs propped up on an ottoman as he plays Geometry Dash on his phone.
“I don't know what you're freaking out about,” he says wryly, not looking up. “Plan's not flawless, but it is flexible.”
“She's gonna think I'm a sleaze!” Heeseung exclaims, dropping his face into his hands. “I'm gonna fuck up my shot before I even have a chance to shoot it!”
Setting his phone aside, Jay crosses his arms. “Alternatively, she might be into you and think that you're not into her because you're not doing anything about it.”
ikeuekeu: TRUTH NUKE
xx_gamer42_xx: my brother in christ how are u gonna get a golden ticket and be too much of a pussy to go into the chocolate factory
The last message is read out by the text-to-speech, sending Jay into a fit of howling laughter, having to muffle it against the nearest cushion he can grab onto. Heeseung hardly manages a weak “shut up” that sounds lame even to his own ears.
He lets his eyes close, expecting respite. Reprieve, even.
He sees your face instead.
An aching groan rumbles from his lips. “Fine, fine! I'll do it!”
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
user12: any updates on the girlfriend arc ?
“Fuck.”
The sharp curse flies out of Heeseung's mouth as he watches his Valorant agent fall to the ground, shot dead. He cards a hand through his hair, murmuring a low “52, Chamber” into his comms before letting his gaze flit over to his vertical monitor.
“'Any updates on the girlfriend arc?'” he scoffs. “Is that what we're calling it?”
At that moment, a notification pops up on his phone—a small ding that vibrates against his desk.
Heeseung flips it over in his hand. The blue light of the screen reflects in the sheen of his eyes. His bottom lip tucks between his teeth, the faintest trace of a smile threatening to appear.
shinramyeo_n: IS THAT A SMILE I SEE
jakelikestobake: oh my god bruh my streamer's the Rizzler
Heeseung has never, in the history of his existence, ever been this indecisive.
After fucking around the whole summer after first year, he put hardly two thoughts worth of deliberation into choosing which branch of engineering he wanted to major in. Only went to one showing when he was apartment hunting because “as long as there's an ethernet port and I can run 144 Hz, it's chill.”
Yet, he's on the path to the Economics building—a walk he's made way more times than he expected—for the sole reason that he might hit it big and catch a glimpse of you again, and he's been stuck in a never ending push and pull the entire way there.
Passes the construction site that's started up work again. ('Jay's a— a no nonsense type of guy. Straightforward and logical. Isn't he trying to bag a job at McKinsey or whatever? He's good at this solution-giving shit, right?')
Stops at a wooden bench in front of a courtyard fountain, burying his face in his hands. ('Who am I kidding? Jay? Jay made his LinkedIn in ninth grade! He doesn't have a soul—')
Eventually, Heeseung manages to back-and-forth himself into the threshold of the lecture hall's northernmost entrance, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans as his eyes scan down the rows of seats.
('Alright, well. Didn't instantly see her the second I stepped in so my life's over. Time to lea—')
A hand waves at him from three rows down.
Face lit up with recognition, you turn around in your seat, whispering something to your friend before waving him over a little more energetically.
Heeseung's breath catches as he spots you. Several thoughts are whirling around in his head (the most coherent one being slight confusion about how you still recognize him). Panic seems to keep the soles of his feet glued to the floor—until they're suddenly moving.
“Heeseung, right?” A smile graces your lips, small but warm. “Do you wanna sit? I was originally saving this seat, but someone—” you shoot a playful glare at the girl next to you, “—has an interview she has to leave for.”
He vaguely recognizes her as Chaewon, one of Jay's friends from high school. She's looking at him knowingly, head cocked to the side—a look he conveniently doesn't meet.
“I...” He dares to peer into your eyes for a half a second. Doesn't catch the slightly optimistic glimmer in them before already looking away. “...Yeah, sure. That'd be great, thanks.”
Class goes by relatively similarly to the first time he met you: in sum, you're actually paying attention to the lecture while Heeseung does anything but. It's only at the end where, rather than leaving, you're still hovering next to him.
Waiting for him, he slowly realizes. “You're staying behind?”
It's the first time he sees your expression shift into something more timid. “If you're free—” you start, “—would you wanna come to the library with me? I have some things to work on, and... I'd like the company.”
It's noon on a weekday. Sunghoon would probably be at the library, slaving away at whatever computer science assignment currently had him shackled to the wall. If Heeseung, God forbid, runs into him at any point and he sees him trailing behind you, there would be a clowning in the group chat like never seen before.
And, sure enough, about two minutes after he walks by a Sunghoon-shaped figure slouched at a bureau, Heeseung feels his phone start to buzz violently in his pocket.
You tilt your head to the side, lips quirked in a teasing smile. “Popular much?”
Embarrassed, he chuckles dryly, silencing his phone with a swift click. “I wish.”
Heeseung's friendship with you is a simple one.
Uncomplicated in a way that, despite the two of you not doing too much actual talking, puts him at ease—a boat drifting on a calm wave. He's never been the type to try and fill dips in conversation by piling on more, but he'll still feel the weight of it—whereas with you, you'll simply be studying, spinning a pen between your fingers and humming a soft tune under your breath, while he tries to peek at you as discreetly as possible.
Silence with you is comfortable.
Then, when momentum builds (“I've gotta go. They're having tryouts for the moot court team in half an hour.” “...Wait—” “Hm? What's up?” “...I've got a ton of physics work to do. Uh, so I'll probably be locked up in the library for the rest of the week, haha.” “Then... then I might join you sometimes. If that's okay, of course.” “Yeah, yeah, no yeah, that's okay. Feel free.”), conversation weaves itself into the space between you.
Heeseung learns that you transferred here from the women's university across town on a scholarship. Your sister had gone here for law school, and you, wanting to do the same, figured it give you the best chance if you did your undergrad and built a network here.
All very academically diligent things that Heeseung, to put it frankly, couldn't really resonate with—but he likes watching your eyes glint as you talk about it. You're determined, he knows that much.
He learns that you're quieter than he'd assumed, based on how readily you spoke to him the first time you met. A bit clumsy, he realizes as the two of you trudge to the nearby shawarma truck and you occasionally bump into his shoulder. He has to pretend like he isn't holding his breath each time you do, and when he finally swallows his nerves down, he manages to puff out his chest enough to tease you about how you “can't walk in a straight line.”
It's sweet, he thinks. You're sweet.
fluffydogpng: someone clip this RIGHT NOW
0148593: hardstuck gold 3 but there's a pretty girl in his dms so maybe we're the real losers in this scenario 💔💔💔💔
The notification is from you. Some create mode reel that you're losing your shit over.
It's stupid. So stupid.
Eyelids drooping, Heeseung reads through it a second, then a third time, before finally flipping his phone back face-down.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Jay's gritting his teeth, trying to ground himself as the muscles in his upper body sear with heat. Two beats goes by—then, he forces himself to push the barbell upward from his body, finishing the last rep in his bench press set.
Metal clangs against metal as he deposits the bar back into its hooks. A gruff sound is drawn from his throat. He stays lying down, taking a few moments to catch his breath before his eyes dart to Heeseung, who's hovering over him.
“That's it? Just classes and the library?” Jay huffs out.
“Pretty much.” Heeseung leans his weight against the equipment. “Food, sometimes.”
Slowly sitting up, Jay unwraps the black wrist straps bound around his wrists, just to wrap them around again more tightly. “Okay, she's clearly not disgusted by you. Invite her.”
“I don't want to, man. She doesn't... seem like the type. She really cares about school.”
“What, so she's a nerd?”
Heeseung kicks him in the shin.
A loud hiss of pain. “I was kidding,” Jay mocks, trying (and failing) to swat him back. “This isn't a teen movie from the 2000s, dumbass. You think that just because she cares about school, she's not gonna want to go to a party? Look at Hoon—those aren't mutually exclusive.”
He gestures for Heeseung to toss him the G Fuel bottle at his feet. “Think about it. A party gives you an excuse to dress real fucking slutty. She'll be yours by the end of the night.”
“Do you ever shut up?”
Jay clicks his tongue. “There's no harm in inviting her,” he emphasizes. “If this goes anywhere, she's gonna eventually find out all the stupid shit you do on the internet anyway. I know you want to 'get it right' or whatever, but if a party is what turns her off from you then it's only doomed from here on out.”
A sigh from the depths of Heeseung's soul is pulled from him. He rubs at his temples as an attempt to clear his mind, even if just for a brief moment.
“Did Chaewon say anything?” he eventually asks, voice quiet—not really sure what answer he's looking for.
“Nope,” Jay says, popping the 'p'. His back collides with padded leather as he lies back down. “Something about 'not tossing her to the wolves'. Says you're an open book, though.”
“Oh, fuck my life.”
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Everyone knows that the voices in your head clock in each night at nine o'clock to make you go through a micro crisis where you become increasingly miserable about your life. Usually they don't get to Heeseung until really, really diabolical hours—but apparently, when it comes to you, he can barely last a few.
(11:02PM) HEESEUNG: had a quick question
The slices of moonlight that pour into the room through half-closed shutters are the only thing preventing Heeseung from wallowing in pitch-black darkness. One arm draped over his forehead, he scowls at the sent message like it personally offended him with its lameness.
“Who am I fucking kidding,” he mutters to himself.
But just as he's about to unsend it, a small, green dot appears next to your name. His thumb pauses mid-motion.
His heart starts to speed up when he sees you've read the message.
It plummets to his ass when he starts getting a call from you.
In Jay's rundown of seven different possible outcomes that Heeseung forced him to give, not once did he mention you calling him would be involved. He's half-delirious, voice shot to hell after his earlier stream with Jake and Sunghoon—and the girl he has a massive crush on chooses now, of all times, to call him for the first time.
Holding his phone in a death grip, Heeseung represses the instinct to fling it across the room like a hot stone. He prepares himself. Clears his throat. Lightly smacks himself a few times.
He uses a shaky finger pushes accept, phone then hastily pressed to his ear. “Hello?”
“Heeseung?”
Your voice is soft. Somehow melodic through the static of the line. A gentle stream of freshwater.
Heeseung's eyes flutter shut as it washes over him, subconsciously pressing the device harder against the side of his head.
“Hey, I saw your message. I would've replied, but the thing is my hands are sort of occupied. Hope this is okay?”
Slowly, Heeseung rolls over in his bed to lie on his side. It takes a moment for him to find his voice. “No, yeah, it's fine. You're busy, then?”
“No, not busy. It's just that I just did my nails, so they're still drying.” A breathy laugh leaves you. “What's up? Is this about this week's homework?”
“Oh, it's—” A feeble cough. “It's nothing important. I was actually wondering if you, uh, wanted to come to a... party. This Friday,” he says, cringing at how the words feel on his tongue.
The small 'oh' you let out makes his stomach churn, but it doesn't carry displeasure more it simply does surprise. “What kind of party? Like a frat party?”
“Yeah, a frat,” Heeseung mumbles, fidgeting with the loose thread of his blanket. “It's at one of the better known ones. Lambda Delta Nu. I don't know if you've heard of it— I know some of the brothers...” he trails off. “...This Friday's the first one of the year, so it's gonna be really big, I guess.”
You're quiet for an uncomfortably long time.
“You don't have to—”
“No, no, I've just— God, you're gonna think I'm lame,” you laugh wryly. “I've just never been to one.”
Heeseung blinks, before a grin unknowingly appears on his face. “Why would I think you've been to one? You went to an all-girls college.”
“I don't know!” you whine. “I didn't do anything in high school, either. Do you like, bring your own drink? Do you have to pay to get in?”
“No, they have drinks. And girls don't.”
“That's... shameless.”
“Tell me about it.”
Suddenly, a loud, incessant vibration comes from your end. Even Heeseung, with his questionable track record of emotional cues, can pick up on the frustration in the sigh you let out. He cautiously prods. “Something wrong?”
“No, I'm just getting a call from my mom,” you say, tone not as light as before. “I've gotta go, sorry. But I'll be there.”
A small pause. “Good night, Heeseung.”
Heeseung's fingers twitch. His heart clogs his throat.
By the time he finishes dwelling on whether to tell you 'good night'—the words already forming on his lips—you've already hung up the call.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
The weight of his leather jacket—Jay's leather jacket, technically, that he'd forced him to wear—is heavy on Heeseung's shoulders.
Even though the party doesn't properly start for another forty minutes, a considerably large swarm of rowdy, half-drunk college students have already accumulated on the house's front lawn, lining up to get in.
Nothing out of the ordinary—Lambda Delta Nu always kicks off the ground with a big, flashy rager. Heeseung can only wrinkle his nose at the thought of how crowded and sweaty it'll get later.
Beer case in hand, he skips past the line, approaching the low, rickety folding table stationed at the foot of the porch. Jake, who's supposed to be helping handle payments, is quite glaringly not doing so—instead sitting backwards atop the table, the neck of an empty beer bottle dangling from his fingers.
“Drinking on the job?” Heeseung deadpans, lightly slamming the case down on the space right next to where Jake is leaning back on his free hand, making the latter startle.
When he turns around, Jake's face splits into a grin. Notoriously lightweight, his cheeks are already flushed a pale red. “I'd personally call it multitasking,” he drawls.
Launching himself up, Heeseung swiftly hops over the table, making his way up to the house and greeting the guys he recognizes along the way. Jake tails along behind him.
“I wanna do some crazy shit tonight,” he says, the scheming evident in his tone. “You gonna match me shot for shot?”
The kitchen island is decked out with all sorts of drinks—beer, liquor, soju, seltzers, coolers, fruit juices. Heeseung's gaze travels over the labels, landing on a Smirnoff Ice.
It opens with a satisfying crack. “Can't. Haven't finished the programming problem set yet.”
Jake stares at him. “Are you deadass?”
“You think I want to be?” Heeseung counters. “Does Minjun have a working PC in his room?”
“I mean, yeah, he does. Wait, so you're going to spend the night doing a fucking problem set?”
“I was busy with stream earlier. I'm basically already done. I'll play one game, go up, do it, and then come back down. It'll take like twenty minutes, max.”
Jake, being familiar with Heeseung's working pace, is thoroughly unconvinced.
Heeseung can't blame him—on any other day, he would be unconvinced too—but today, he would force himself power through.
Because you would be here.
Earlier in the day, you had sent him a voice message (that he replayed an embarrassing number of times) asking him when you should get there, if there was a dress code, and a small catalog's worth of other questions.
You sounded nervous, and he was so, very endeared by it.
Which is why he's so determined to finish his work, submit the shit half-assed if need be, and then come back down. He already isn't fond of the idea of getting to know you at a musty frat party, so he's resolved on at least trying to be a good host.
Fuck, why did he care so much about your opinion?
“Yo, Lee Heeseung! Get your sexy ass over here!” One of the frat brothers, Ren, hollers from beside the beer pong table, echoed by Jake's cackling in the background.
A year older than him, Ren roughly throws his arm around Heeseung's shoulder, messing up his hair as if he were a little kid. “You ready to get shit on?”
“Pfft,” Heeseung scoffs, tongue poking the side of his cheek. “Give me the fucking ball.”
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Heeseung's drunk.
He's tipsy, to be more specific. Not fully drunk, but definitely on the way—and far drunker than he expected to be at this point in the night.
In his defense, it had been the game's fault. The opposite team had gotten lucky with a streak of successful shots that kept him stuck in position, so now he's about four shots (give or take, he hasn't been keeping count) deeper than he'd like to be. A guttural groan is ripped from his chest as another one lands in a cup, drowned out by sound of multiple slaps on his back and the cacophony of people yelling 'shot!' over and over.
“No, no, fuck off, I'm done for now,” Heeseung says semi-coherently, a lazy grin on his face. There's a shot cup that someone's trying to thrust into his hand from every direction. “Fuck off to hell, all of you.”
Deafening music—some shitty rap song—blares through the air, slightly fuzzy at the edges. It thrums through every single one of Heeseung's nerve endings as he drags himself out of the living room.
If someone told Heeseung that half the fucking city was in the Lambda house right now, he would fully believe them without hesitation.
Every inch of property is flooded by people. Some choose to lounge by the pool in the backyard, some chat with their friends in the kitchen. Some choose to swap spit in the most absurd corner of the house. The air is hot and clammy and smells heavily of cigarette smoke.
“My hair's gonna smell like this for days,” he groans to himself.
Heeseung nearly misses the staircase under the mountain of people piled on top of it. There isn't a single fuck in his body he has left to give about all the sweaty people he's pushing aside, his sole objective just to drive through the throng and get to the second floor without being trampled.
The sooner he can get up there, the sooner he can finish his work. The sooner he can finish his work, the sooner he can go back down and get hammered and find you.
You. Fuck, he’d gotten distracted.
You’d gotten here earlier, didn’t you? He should probably text you.
A chipped banister is Heeseung's saving grace, acting as leverage for him to haul himself up the stairs. Soft, erratic pants escape him when he makes it to the top, body bending at the waist as he leans his weight against the wooden railing.
Nearly the whole first floor can be seen from up here. Heeseung's eyes idly scan the different rooms, taking note of certain things—like how Jake's shirt is now off, Jay's drinking with some of his friends from high school, and Sunghoon's hogging the entirety of a couch to himself with a girl stretched out on top of him.
When they break apart so he can trail sloppy kisses down the side of her neck, Heeseung makes eye contact with him over her shoulder.
He cocks an eyebrow, as if to say: That's her?
Sunghoon promptly flips him off.
Snickering, Heeseung pushes off the railing to leave.
The house's bedrooms are all located along a lengthy hallway, decorated with painted oil portraits of the frat's original founders and framed photos of prior generations of brothers. Dragging himself further down, Heeseung tries each of the doors to find the one with a fucked up lock, knowing that one would be Minjun's. Eventually, he finds it at the very end of the hall, pushing into the room without much grace.
Minjun's room is actually nice, to his credit—minimalistic, sleek black walls, accentuated by silver grey details. A flag of the Lambda Delta Nu letters hangs from the dark oak bed frame, next to a hockey jersey slightly dusty from going unworn for a while. Heeseung recognizes some of the miscellaneous things (namely stray clothes) he knows belong to Jake that are scattered around the room.
Then, to top it all off, the lights are switched on, suddenly plunging the room into a deep shade of red.
He snorts. LEDs? Really? Is he fifteen?
Whatever. It doesn't matter. He has all the time in the world to flame him for it when he gets back from Barcelona.
Gingerly, Heeseung peels the weighty jacket off, the leather having begun to stick to his skin. It's draped over the back of the desk chair, leaving him in a white cotton tank top. The air hitting the bare skin of his arms and chest causes a shiver to run through him at the sudden drop in temperature.
He takes a moment, letting clean, smoke-free air circulate through his lungs, before steeling himself.
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Heeseung realizes very quickly that trying to code while tipsy fucking sucked.
What he thought would only take twenty minutes to do absolutely does not take only twenty minutes. Trying to parse through walls of code is hard enough sober, let alone with his brain fighting for its life through the dense fog that had settled over it from the alcohol. The only words that leave his mouth during the process are a litany of 'fuck' and 'shit' variations grumbled under his breath each time the code doesn't run properly.
But if there's one thing that studying engineering does for someone, it's teaching them to accept that their fate is doomed from the start—so he tanks the grade, submitting the shitty code just so he doesn't have to look at it any longer.
Heeseung exhales a long-suffering sigh. He had sobered up a bit, having fished a rare water bottle from Minjun's mini fridge that is otherwise entirely filled with Red Bull and soju. The edges of the chair dig into his back as he slumps against it. His right hand aimlessly palms around on the desk, gripping his phone when he feels its boxy shape.
There's a text from Jay, he muses. Several texts.
(11:52) JAY: Yo where the fuck r u
(11:52) JAY: Y/n's looking for you
(11:53) JAY: Tell me Jake isn't serious is your bitchass actually doing homework rn
(11:53) JAY: Do u want an award for being virgin of the year
(11:53) JAY: I sent her ur way
(11:53) JAY: I'm actually going to beat the shit out of u
Heeseung's brain short-circuits.
He's suddenly very conscious of how much of a mess he looks like right now—probably dead to the world, eyes bloodshot from staring at dense code, hair sticking up in a hundred different directions from how many times he's run a frustrated hand through it.
Meeting you in frat guy's bedroom at a party he invited you to probably looks really bad on his part. What if you came up and he ran his mouth? Scared you off? He shouldn't have let those fuckers shovel shots down his throat. He had to fix his hair. Wipe his sweat. Kill Jay—
There's a soft, hesitant knock at the door.
Heeseung freezes.
His heart beats four counts before he calls out hoarsely, “Come in.”
Hinges creaking, the door is carefully opened from the other side. Your head slowly peeks in, uncertainty marring your face. It relaxes with relief when you register that it's actually him in the room.
“Oh, good,” you breathe out, finally pushing into the room. You're clutching a solo cup in one hand, phone in the other. Your skin shines with a light sheen of sweat. “I was really worried that I was gonna walk in on people fucking.”
If you had looked anymore carefully, you'd notice how Heeseung's Adam's apple bobs up, then down.
The music from downstairs gets noticeably more muted. Or maybe turned off entirely? His fists clench, trying to quell his twitching fingers.
You're drenched in crimson in front of him, the red lights painting you in a way that has his mouth running dry. Every shred of his pitiful dignity seems to evaporate as he trails his trembling eyes over your body, latching onto how your shorts delicately squeeze around your thighs. How elegant your neck stretches when you crane it to the side. How your top is cut just low enough.
God help me, I am no better than anyone else.
If Heeseung wasn't so busy staring at you, he might've noticed you staring at him back.
At his tousled hair. How the muscles in his arms rippled as he flexed them unconsciously.
At his lips, maybe. Who knows.
It takes Heeseung longer than he's proud of for him to reel himself back in and tear his gaze from you. The fog clears, music returning to the volume it was at before.
“Are you drunk?” he blurts, finally standing up from his chair.
Your face breaks into a lazy smile. The alcohol in your system has your tongue feeling heavier than usual, honeying your voice and making your words connect with a barely-there slur.
“Nuh uh. I'm not that lightweight. This is only my second drink of the night.” You hold up the half-full cup, the contents swishing around inside.
Suddenly, you tilt your cheek towards him. “Here. Feel.”
Heeseung's eyes widen. “H—Huh?”
“Feel my face,” you repeat, tilting closer.
Just how drunk are you?
Lifting a hand, Heeseung hesitates for a moment before letting the back of his hand carefully press against your offered cheek. The touch is electric, sending a surge from the tips of his fingers up the length of his arm. Your skin is impossibly soft. It yields under his touch like a cloud.
It's also flushed hot, which he makes sure to point out.
You scoff lightly, feigning offense. “That doesn't mean anything.”
“It really does, Y/N,” Heeseung finds himself murmuring softly. He isn't sure what possesses him to then move his hand from your cheek to your forehead—liquid confidence, maybe—but he does.
You don't lean away.
“I met your friend. Jay, I think,” you finally say, breaking away to walk over to the desk.
Heeseung's gaze flickers with disappointment, following your figure as you plop down into the chair. Quite possibly the worst thing you could've told him, but he bites his tongue.
“He seems nice. Turns out we're in the same Econ program group chat. Was he being serious about you doing homework up here?”
The code he'd been writing is still pulled up on the computer screen, which you take the luxury of scrolling through, much to Heeseung's dread. He moves to try to steal the mouse away, which you respond to by immediately snapping your arm out to keep it out of his reach. “Don't look at that.”
“Why?” you ask, as if you're a kid being denied candy.
“Because I did it while drunk. The code can barely run. I don't even know what I wrote.”
“I'm just curious! It's not like I'm gonna judge you— I don't know jackshit about coding.”
Your brows are drawn in a knot that Heeseung has grown familiar with after a lot of staring during library sessions. It's the same look you get when you're stuck on something—whether it's some theoretical concept you can't wrap your head around, or a flashcard you can't seem to remember, no matter how many times it comes up in rotation.
Now, you're glaring at his code as if it's at fault for not magically bestowing you with god-tier computer science powers the second you'd glanced at it.
Suddenly, you're swivelling around in the chair to face him. “Teach me how to code.”
Heeseung sputters. “What?”
“Teach me how to code,” you repeat, batting your lashes.
Pursing his lips, he tries to push down a smile. “You came to the biggest party of the year and you want to learn how to code?”
“Am I high or are we not at the same party?”
“I wasn't coding willingly. Shit, you really are a huge nerd.”
You whine. “I already did all the party stuff! Chaewon introduced me to her friends and we danced and I watched a few games of beer pong. I already hit the quota I set for night. And... and I want to spend time with you,” you say, voice growing quieter towards the end.
Heeseung knows it's probably the alcohol talking, but that doesn't stop him from instantly softening around the edges.
You're just so— so cute right now. Talkative and clingy in a way that stirs something gooey in his chest, in a way that he never expected to see. He wonders if this is real at all, and yet would actively still jump into the deep end even if he knew it wasn't.
“Okay,” he murmurs softly, poking your forehead. “Don't sulk.”
Heeseung shifts so that he's leaning over you from the side, and this time, you don't resist when he takes the mouse from you, letting your hand fall away. Seconds later, a blank program is pulled up on the screen.
“Three basic things you gotta know about writing code,” he starts. “Variables, conditionals, and loops. Variables store stuff—”
His breath stutters when he feels your chin perch innocently on the nook of his bicep.
You're unfazed when he glances down at you, simply staring ahead at what he's typing. He finds his voice again, meeker than it was.
“—conditionals decide what happens, and loops loop things. So, if I wrote an if statement, like if x is greater than five, then...”
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
The wonderful world of Python can only keep someone entertained for so long—Heeseung thinks it a miracle you lasted as long as you did before starting to not-so-subtly hint at wanting to do something else.
Drink, that is. Fiending to drink.
The smart decision was probably to get you to pace yourself, yet Heeseung's never claimed to be smart. Nothing he's ever done really has.
He's selfish. Selfish and tipsy. He wants to savour this endearing side of you because he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to see it again.
That's how you both end up here: sat side-by-side on the floor, leaning back against the bed frame, drinking from soju bottles—yours strawberry, his grape—that Heeseung had taken from Minjun's mini fridge. Somewhere in his mind, he makes a mental post-it to buy them back for him.
Conversation flows. You talk about what it was like spending your entire life in all-girls schools, and he might've let it slip that he's a streamer (to which he immediately shuts down all attempts you make at trying to get him to show you his channel, not matter what you said or how you pouted).
Things about school, things about people, things stupid beyond imagination (“D'you think I could get Clavicular to collab with me?” “What?”)—it all comes out in a natural stream of thoughts.
At some point, you start to grow quiet. As if you're sobering up, even though your bottle is getting emptier.
Heeseung notices. He matches you. “Tired?”
You shake your head. “Not yet. This is just how I get when I drink. I get loud and then I get quiet,” you explain, words slurring a bit.
It's later in the night, so the rush of the party had settled down, though there's still a decent amount of commotion, mostly from people hanging out in and around the pool.
“Heeseung?” you mumble.
“Yeah?”
“Do you ever feel like you're just floating through your existence?”
Heeseung's in the middle of taking a swig from his bottle. The question sends him into a mild coughing fit, the corners of his eyes instantly watering. “Don't you think that's a bit—cough—bit too loaded of a—cough—question?”
You give him a sheepish smile before letting your head drop back, a soft thud against the mattress. “Sorry. I'm a little out of it right now. Forget I said anything, actually.”
Wiping his mouth with his hand, Heeseung turns to look at you. “I've done viewer counselling sessions for my streams. My chat says I'm a good listener.” He sounds so lame to himself, but you laugh, and that matters more.
Silence falls over the two of you. Just when he thinks it's cemented itself and you no longer want to talk, you mumble: “I dunno if I actually want to be a lawyer.”
A pause. “Okay,” Heeseung says slowly. Processing the statement, turning it over a few times in his head. “Why?”
You rub at your eyes with the heels of your palms, dragging them down your face. “That's the thing—I don't know,” you groan, words garbled from alcohol. “Like, my mom wanted to be a lawyer but didn't get into law school, so that's why she's in real estate. Then, my sister passed the bar with flying colours and is now this big, successful lawyer who brings home two hundred grand a year. So... so I'm sorta supposed to do all that too, you know? Do my diligence. I'm as much my mother's daughter as my sister is. And I am! That's why I'm here in the first place—”
Heeseung's hands gently grasp your own flailing ones, stilling them before placing them back into your lap. “Woah, woah, chill. You're rambling. A lot.”
“—I just—I know I'm succeeding. I have medals and titles and resources and a scholarship here and yet—when I look at my mom and see how happy she is whenever she brings these things up, I don't... feel what she feels.”
You trail to a close like air escaping a punctured balloon, voice thin as insecurity seeps into your pores. “I don't feel what she feels and I don't know what's wrong with me.”
Heeseung remains quiet for a long time.
Horror is the only fitting word that describes the expression on your face. A shaky hand cards through your hair as you scramble to apologize. “S—sorry. I don't usually... overshare like that, fuck—”
“Y/N,” he cuts you off. “You know I'm only an electrical major because Jake is too, right?”
You blink a few times, trying to clear the dense fog shrouding your mind. “Seriously?” you croak after a moment.
“Okay, no, not fully,” he chuckles dryly. “But like, half seriously. I chose electrical because my highest grades last year were in the electrical courses they make us take. Having a friend sorta tipped it over, I guess.”
Shifting his body so that he's fully facing you, Heeseung props his elbow up on the mattress, resting his head in his hand. “Other reasons were if I chose a major I'm good at, I might have a better chance at scoring internships. Or doing a masters or some other bullshit that would "further my professional career". Point is none of those have anything to do with what I want because I don't know what the fuck I want.”
“Streaming's fun,” he hums. “My dad doesn't think it's a real job, though. So I get what you mean. At least, I hope I do.”
He takes a moment to carefully select his next words, going over them in his head to make sure they'll sound fine rolling off his tongue.
“There's no rule that says you're 'supposed' to do anything. You have free will,” he says. “Right now, being a lawyer sounds more like your mom's dream, not yours. But maybe that'll change, and you actually do want to be a lawyer in the future. Who knows. Either way, you'll be the only one to make that decision when the time comes. Not your mom. Not your sister. You.”
Heeseung can't decipher the emotions that are pooling in your eyes. He's worried it's a bad sign—he's never been the best with empathy or knowing exactly what to say, and he's certain that he's not more graceful while tipsy than he is sober—but you shift to face him.
Legs unfurling from your chest to cross on top of each other. Inching closer until your face is a breath's away from his.
Tension permeates the small space, so thick and palpable that Heeseung can practically taste it. His eyes trace the slope of your nose, the curve of your cupid's bow, the strands of messy hair that he ached to brush out of your face. Unknowingly, he wets his lips—a movement your eyes follow.
Hope is scary. Fragile. All it takes it one wrong step, one toe out of line, and it can be extinguished with the gentlest gust of wind.
Heeseung dares to hope.
“If you ask me... I think you're enough just as you are.”
You lean in. He lets you.
You hesitate. He doesn't pull away—and a hundred, thousand fireworks set off in his chest when your lips slot against his.
They're soft, tentative. Just a little bit awkward and uncoordinated in their movements, but Heeseung doesn't mind. He lets you steer the ship where you want it to go.
The kiss is brief, only lasting a couple seconds before your mouth detaches from his with a soft smack. He expects you to pull away, to no longer be able to breathe in the faint notes of jasmine in your perfume on every inhale—but you don't.
You keep the sliver between you an inch wide, nose nudging against his, breath still fanning against his skin in warm puffs. Lingering.
You push yourself up onto your knees, a yelp escaping you as you stumble, the ends of your hair skimming his face. Heeseung's hands instinctively find your waist to steady you. He revels in the way the dip feels against his palms. A meek sorry comes from you, which he returns with a small it's fine.
Shifting closer, the front of your thigh presses against his side. He sucks in a sharp, shuddering breath as you sling yourself over him, helping you down as you settle into his lap, thighs bracketing his.
Heeseung has to crane his neck up ever so slightly to meet your gaze.
You're gorgeous. He's thought that since the very day he met you, but this—your bare skin scorching his hands, the sight of you on top of him—has his mind going mushy and blank. A barely audible groan slips out of him as your arms sling around his neck, fingers gently threading through the hair at his nape.
“You're pretty.” The words come out in a rush, not caring if you know. Needing you to know. “God, you're so fucking pretty.”
“You're buttering me up,” you say, your retort lacking any real contempt. He only shakes his head, reconnecting your lips, deeper, escalating.
Heeseung's heartbeat is in his ears. The ache that's been sitting his chest, tamped down but constantly brewing, springs forth the moment he feels your tongue swipe against the seam of his lips. They part instantly, letting your tongue press in, wet and hot—the strawberry flavouring mixed with the slight bitterness of alcohol you'd been drinking hitting his taste buds.
“I want you.” You sigh the words into his mouth, and he swallows them fervently. “Please...”
Heeseung breathes out a shaky laugh. “Neither of us are sober.”
“You don't want me?”
“Fuck, I never said that.”
Eager hands fist at the hem of his tank, which he lets you slip off and toss aside, his entire top-half left bare. His skin is flushed hot, chest heaving as your lips trail down his neck, his collarbone, his sternum—unable to control the low moan he lets out as they latch onto his abdomen, sucking a hickey into the skin. “F—fuck...”
When you come back up, Heeseung pulls you back down flush against him. One hand slides under your thigh, the other slipping into the back of your shorts, lightly running over the skin there. A full-body shiver runs through him as the tips of his fingers brush against the texture of your waistband.
“Lace?” he muses, as if it doesn't undo him.
“Shut up.”
“I didn't say I was complaining. You know I'm not complaining, right?”
“Shut. Up.”
And how quickly he complies, slanting his lips to yours again. Heeseung feels feverish—choking out a high-pitched gasp as your hips grind down. He's throbbing against your ass, his entire arm wrapping around your waist like an iron band to pull you against him harder, coaxing you to give him more friction, his head lolling back when you do. He finds the ribbon of your top at your back, tugging it loose—
“Shit, someone get him out!”
Someone's shouting outside. Heeseung doesn't hear it, fingers fumbling with the clasp of your bra—
It grows louder. Fucking hell, shut up, he thinks, brows knitting together as he tries to focus on you, on how you feel against him—but your movements slowly come to a halt.
“What's that noise?” you whisper.
Heeseung shakes his head before feverishly kissing down your neck, trying to reassure you. “Nothing, nothing. C'mon, baby, keep going—”
But the commotion only seems to multiply, growing until it's a cacophony of panicked and confused voices. Concerned, you look over your shoulder towards the window, your grip in his hair loosening.
He groans into your skin as he feels you start to shift off his lap. It feels like he's never wanted anything more desperately than to keep you against him—but he lets you climb off, hands falling limply to the side.
Head tilting towards the ceiling, Heeseung blinks a few times, trying to clear the hazy fog from his head (and calming himself down so he doesn't explode) before standing up begrudgingly and dragging himself over to the window.
Heeseung peeks outside. His brow furrows with confusion, then concern. Instead of everyone being littered around the backyard doing their own things, every head is turned towards the pool.
Jake is currently being hauled out of the pool like a wet dog by Jay and Sunghoon, face contorted in pain.
“What's going on?” Your voice is quiet. Uneasy.
“I don't know. I think something happened to Jake,” Heeseung says gravely, breaking away from the window to pick up his shirt from the floor. “I— fuck, I'm going to kill him.”
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
Pebbles dig into Heeseung's socked feet—he couldn't be bothered with shoes—as he rushes out into the backyard towards where Sunghoon, Jay, and a couple other Lambda guys are crowded around Jake. He calls out, “What's going on here?”
Jake's leaning back against his hands, one of his legs outstretched in front of him. He's red as a lobster, from his face down to his neck, and also soaking wet, clothes sticking to the outline of his body, dripping water down that washes the concrete a darker shade—yet he only waves a dismissive hand.
“Nothing,” he slurs. “I'm—hic—fine.”
Sunghoon scoffs, hands on his hips. “Einstein here decided to jump from the roof and didn't realize he was jumping into the shallow end because he's shitfaced.”
He then turns to Heeseung, looking him up and down. “Where've you been? I haven't seen you in, like, two h— do you have a fucking boner right now?”
Much to his horror, Heeseung looks down to find a very noticeable tent in his pants. He exhales—zen, he thinks, be zen—before slipping his leather jacket off to tie around his waist. “Shut the fuck up.”
Apparently, Jake is coherent enough to stare at Heeseung's crotch, see that he's hard, and put two and two together. “Holy shit, did I cockblock you?”
“Yes, you fu— whatever. It's not important. We need to call the ambulance.”
“Jay's already on it,” Sunghoon says, jerking his head over in Jay's direction.
A small distance away, Ren—who's also visibly drunk but somehow still manages to climb onto a patio table with falling—cups his mouth to create a makeshift megaphone before yelling at the top of his lungs: “Alright, wrap it up! We're done here! If you're not a brother or fucking a brother, get the fuck out!”
Loud groaning resounds throughout the yard. People are evidently upset that they'd been cut off for the night, but eventually, the crowd disperses. Some staggering as their sober friends haul them out, some laughing on their phones—Jake would probably be on a hundred people's Snapchat stories and at the top of the university's subreddit by the morning.
Heeseung finds you standing in the doorway of the sliding screen door that leads to the yard. You look noticeably worried.
His eyes soften.
“What happened?” you ask as he approaches you.
Standing in front of you, Heeseung brings his hands up to cup your face, smoothing out the crease between your eyes with the pad of his thumb.
“Jake's jumped into the pool and fucked up his leg. An ambulance is on the way,” he says, chuckling at your deadpan expression.
Heeseung peers into your eyes. His heart stutters. “I'm sorry,” he whispers. “About us getting interrupted, I mean.”
You shrug, arms wrapping around his waist, resting your cheek against his chest. “'s whatever. In fact, I was kinda going into this whole frat party thing with the expectation that there would be some bullshit.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Were your expectations met?”
A soft, pondering hum leaves you. “Quite.”
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
The hospital waiting room is deserted at this hour, save for the anxious mother and her sleeping son huddled together. Heeseung's shoes click against tile as he makes his way back to the area, two paper cones filled with water in his hands.
Jake had broken his leg. With his parents not in the country, Heeseung had offered to stay and wait until he gets settled with a room.
You had stayed with him.
Rounding the corner, he sees you yawning. A faint smile tugs at his lips.
“You don't have to stay here, you know,” he says, handing you a cone. It's the third time he's said it since the two of you got here—and you've been stubborn about it each time. “I'll call you an Uber.”
You accept the water, taking a sip before giving him a shrug.
“You'll be bored. Besides, I'm not tired,” you say, as if he hadn't just caught you in the act.
Heeseung looks like he's about to refute you again, but ends up dropping it. He plops down into the hard waiting room chair, throwing the water back like a shot. Ice cold water slides down his dry throat.
Silence. There's an elephant standing in the corner, staring the two of you dead in the eye.
“So,” he starts awkwardly.
You smack your lips. “So.”
“...I, uhm, I think you're cool.”
He sees you turn to face him in the corner of his vision, and absolutely refuses to meet your eyes. “Heeseung, you had your hand in my pants.”
Absentmindedly, he starts folding his empty paper cone, sealing the edges to make a rectangle while grumbling something about how you 'can't just lead in with that.'
“I might like you,” he gets out.
“I might like you,” you copy mockingly.
“I'm being serious!”
“You just told me that you 'think I'm cool.'”
Sighing, Heeseung drops his face into his hands, wrestling with his nerves and feelings and the stupid little flips you make his heart do. Eventually, his words come out in an embarrassed mumble. “I think you're really pretty and sweet and I'd like to go out with you.”
If he had been looking at you, then he would've seen you pursing your lips, trying to hold back a smile.
A few seconds pass before Heeseung feels your head rest on his shoulder.
“I'd like that.”
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
“Chat,” Heeseung claps his hands together, closing out of his browser so that his camera can be set as full-screen. “I posted on Twitter earlier that we have a special guest joining us today.”
user888: oh my god this is so exciting
heeseungism: DAD PLEASEEE LET US SEE MOM PLEASEEEEEE
Heeseung glances out the corner of his eye.
You're sitting beside him just out of frame, fingers fidgeting nervously with the hem of your cardigan. The sight makes his chest tighten with fondness.
“You look nervous,” he points out.
You shoot him a look, despite letting him pull you up to stand. “Am not.”
He only laughs in return, hands warm on your hips as he guides you into view.
“Alright. Chat, this is my girlfriend, Y/N,” Heeseung announces, chin hooking over your shoulder. “She's a little shy, so don't be fucking weird and scare her off.”
cherryxxi: HELLO!!!!! 🥹🥹🥹🥹
applejuicemaster: bruh why am i lowkenuinely proud of u
reynakisser_: Wtf she's so out of ur league. pick ME!!!!! HE DONT KNOW HOW TO HANDLE ALLAT
Half-lidded eyes scanning the racing chat, Heeseung's lips quirk upwards at everyone's reaction.
