!! synopsis: a week after jake sent explicit photos of you to his friends. you show up at their house for a day of swimming and games, playing the perfect girl for jake. but the moment he’s not watching, there are too many accidents with his friends to be coincidental. they all want you, and you know that. by the time the night ends nobody’s innocent. especially not you.
!! warnings: everyone needs that cookie baddd, drinking, oral (both), "massaging", mommy kink, foursome (sub x sub/dom x wannabe dom x dom), mxm if u squint, cum play, recording (w/consent), reader evil + bratty, making out, teasing, degrading, tit play
!! wc: 8.9k
!! a/n: part 2 of sweet nothing but can be read alone!! didnt really know how to pair this cs the main pairing is tech jake but she has moments with everyone 😭 also it does get nasty im warning yall now and im sorry if this feels rushed im working on a longer fic and didnt want this to be long 🙏
The living room was chaotic. Snacks spread everywhere, Ni-ki and Sunghoon yelling at each other over a game. But Jake wasn't paying attention to any of it.
He was sprawled on the couch, phone in hand, thumb scrolling through his camera roll. A soft, almost dreamy smile tugged at his lips as he landed on a particular photo of you, tangled in his sheets, hair messy, lips swollen, looking up at him through half lidded eyes.
He'd been staring at it for the last five minutes.
"So." Jake finally looked up, his eyes scanning the room. He could feel the air shift, the energy changing as his friends slowly stopped what they were doing to look at him. "You guys are gonna act like you didn't see those photos? Like you haven't been thinking about them all week?"
The room went dead silent.
Ni-ki's controller slipped from his hands. Sunghoon paused mid cheat. Jay's drink froze halfway to his mouth.
"Bro." Heeseung set down his controller slowly. "We were trying to be polite."
"Polite?" Jake laughed, sitting up. "Since when are any of you polite?"
"We didn't want to make it weird," Sunoo admitted.
"Too late for that." Jake's grin was sharp, knowing. "You've all been looking at me differently since I sent those. I can tell."
"Because you sent us photos of her," Sunghoon said, his voice cracking. "Like, explicit photos. Of your girl or situationship or whatever you guys are. In positions that I can't unsee."
"And?" Jake leaned back, crossing his arms. "You're welcome for the view." "She's mine we belong to each other, and we wanted you to know that."
The boys exchanged glances.
"He's lost it," Ni-ki muttered. "Completely lost it."
"Not lost." Jake's voice dropped. "Just secure. I know what I have, and I know none of you can take it from me."
Another beat of silence.
Then Sunghoon snorted. "Bro, nobody's trying to take her from you. We're just trying to figure out when you became this-."
"Delusional," Ni-ki finished.
Jake just smiled. "She's coming over today," he said casually. "So you can all see for yourselves."
The room went quiet again.
"She's coming here?" Sunoo asked. "While we're all here?"
"Yeah." Jake's smile was smug. "She wanted to spend the day with me. I told her you guys would be here and she said she didn't care. She just wanted to be with me."
"Bro is so whipped," Ni-ki muttered.
"I'm not whipped." Jake pocketed his phone, standing up. "I'm just appreciated."
The doorbell rang an hour later. Jake practically flew off the couch to answer it. You stood there, all soft smiles and sweet energy, wearing a tiny little sundress that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.
"Hey, baby," you murmured, wrapping your arms around his neck.
"Hey, sweetheart." His hands found your waist, pulling you close. "Missed you."
"Missed you too." You kissed his cheek, his jaw, the corner of his mouth. "You look good."
"So do you." His eyes traveled down your body.
"Jake." You giggled, swatting his chest. "Your friends are watching."
"Let them watch." He kissed you properly, deep and possessive, his hand sliding down to grip your ass. Someone whistled from inside.
You pulled back, cheeks flushed, eyes wide. "Sorry," you said softly, stepping inside. "Hi, everyone."
They were all staring. Ni-ki had his mouth open. Sunghoon was grinning. Jay had his eyebrows raised. Heeseung looked like he was trying to figure something out. Sunoo was smiling knowingly. Jungwon was looking at the floor.
"Hey," they mumbled back.
"Nice dress," Sunoo offered.
"Thank you!" You beamed at him. "Jake picked it out."
"Did he now?" Sunghoon's eyes traveled down your body. "Good taste."
Jake's arm tightened around your waist. "Eyes up, Hoon."
You laughed, soft and sweet, pressing closer to Jake. "Baby, don't be jealous. I'm yours."
"Yeah?" His voice softened.
"Always." You kissed his neck. "Now, what are we doing today? I heard there's a pool?"
An hour later...
Everyone had changed into their swimsuits. You slipped away to one of the guest bedrooms to change, holding up two options a tiny pink bikini and an even tinier black one. You were so focused on deciding that you didn't hear the door open.
"Oh- shit. Sorry."
You turned. Heeseung stood frozen in the doorway, his eyes going wide before he quickly looked away.
"Heeseung." Your voice was soft, almost amused. "It's fine, i'm fully dressed."
He glanced back, relieved, but his eyes still wouldn't quite meet yours. "I was just looking for my uh never mind. I'll come back."
"Wait." You held up both bikinis. "I need help, I packed two and I can't decide which one?"
He blinked, caught off guard. "I-"
"Just tell me," you said sweetly, stepping closer. "Pink or black?"
He swallowed hard. "The black one. Definitely the black one."
You smiled, then turned around. "You can stay, I'm just changing."
Before he could process your words, you were already pulling your dress off, completely unbothered. Heeseung's breath caught. You were wearing nothing in a blink of an eye, all smooth skin and soft curves, and you moved like you didn't even realize he was there.
You stepped into the black bikini bottom, pulling them up slowly letting the fabric slide over your thighs, your hips, settling perfectly against your skin. You could feel his eyes on you, burning into your back, and you took your time adjusting the strings at your hips, making sure they sat just right.
Then you reached behind your back for the top, your fingers fumbling with the clasp. You tried once, twice, letting out a soft, frustrated innocent sigh.
"Heeseung." You glanced at him over your shoulder, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. "Can you help me? I can't reach."
He moved before he could think, closing the distance between you in two quick steps. His hands came up, fingers brushing against your bare skin as he found the clasp. You felt the light tremble in his touch, the way his breath hitched when his knuckles grazed your spine.
"Like that?" he managed, his voice low and strained.
"Perfect." You held his gaze for a moment longer, then slowly you turned to face him.
The top barely covered anything tiny triangles of black fabric. His eyes dropped immediately, tracing the curve of your breasts, the swell of your cleavage, before snapping back up to your face.
"See something you like?" you teased.
His jaw tightened, he didn't answer with words. Instead his hands found your waist, fingers digging into your bare skin, and he pulled you against him. His mouth was on your neck in an instant hot, desperate, hungry. He kissed his way up to your jaw, your ear, his breath ragged against your skin.
"Heeseung," you breathed, your voice barely a whisper. "What are you doing?"
"What does it look like?" His voice was wrecked. His hands slid down to grip your hips, pulling you flush against him. You could feel his hard length pressing against you.
You let him kiss your neck for a moment longer. Let his lips trail down to your collarbone. His hands roam over your hips, your thighs, squeezing and gripping like he couldn't get enough. You let yourself melt into him just enough, you let out a soft little moan that made him groan against your skin.
But then you pulled back.
Your hand came up, pressing gently against his chest, stopping him. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, lips parted and swollen from kissing your skin.
You glanced down at the prominent bulge straining against his swim trunks. Then you looked back up at him, a slow wicked smile curling at the corners of your mouth.
"Oh," you said softly, your voice dripping with false innocence. "I see you got a problem."
He opened his mouth to respond, but you were already stepping away, grabbing your towel from the bed.
"You might wanna fix that before you go out there." You paused at the door, glancing back at him one last time. "Pink was my favorite one. But black looks better on me, don't you think?"
You didn't wait for an answer. You just walked out, leaving him frozen in the middle of the room breathless and very obviously struggling with the problem you'd pointed out.
By the time you made it to the pool, everyone was already there. Jay, Jake and Ni-ki were in the water, Sunoo was stretched out on a towel, and Jungwon sat on the steps of the shallow end.
You found Sunghoon lounging on a chair, already glistening with sunscreen, his sunglasses pushed up on his head. He was half asleep in the sun, looking annoyingly perfect, and you couldn't help but smile as you walked over.
"Hoon." You stood in front of him, blocking his sun. "Hoon, wake up."
He cracked one eye open. "What?"
"I need your help." You held up the sunscreen bottle, pouting slightly. "I can't reach my back, can you put it on for me?"
He sat up slowly, a lazy grin spreading across his face. "You need me to put sunscreen on your back?"
"Yes." You blinked at him innocently. "Please?"
He took the bottle, patting the space on the chair in front of him. "Turn around and sit."
You settled down, your back to him, and he squeezed some sunscreen into his palm. His hands landed on your shoulders, warm and firm, and you let out a soft sigh as he started working the lotion into your skin.
"Mmm, that feels good," you murmured.
"Yeah?" His voice was low, his thumbs pressing into the knots on your shoulders. "You're really tense."
His hands slid down your spine, spreading the sunscreen lower and lower, until his thumbs were tracing the dip of your lower back. You arched slightly, pressing into his touch.
"Actually," you said softly, glancing back at him through your lashes, "can you just do my whole body? I don't want to miss any spots."
Sunghoon's hands paused for half a second. Then they continued, sliding down your sides, over your ribs, your hips. He gripped your waist, his thumbs tracing slow circles into your skin, and you could feel his breath on the back of your neck.
"Your whole body?" he repeated, his voice dropping.
"Mhm." You turned facing him and stretched your arms above your head, arching closer to him. "Would be a shame if I got sun burned."
His hands slid down to your thighs, gripping a little too firmly. He took his time, way too much time working the sunscreen into your thighs, his thumbs dangerously close to the edge of your bikini.
You glanced toward the pool. Jungwon was still sitting on the steps, his eyes fixed on the two of you. His face was bright red, his lips parted, completely frozen. You pretended not to notice, but you made sure to shift just enough so he got a better view.
Sunghoon leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing your ear. "Damn," he murmured, his voice rough. "I don't know how he handles all this. If I was him I would fuck you stupid on this chair in front of everyone"
You tilted your head, playing dumb. "Hmm?"
"Nothing." He pulled back slightly.
"No, no." You said eyes wide and curious. "What did you say?"
"I said you're all set." He cleared his throat, starting to pull his hands away. You reached back, grabbing his wrists before he could move. "That's not what I heard."
"Then you heard wrong."
You moved slightly and your body is flush against his. He was still sitting on the chair, and you were between his legs, close enough to feel the heat from his skin. "I think I heard something else, Hoon. Something about a chair?"
He looked at you with fake confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Really?" You tilted your head, a teasing smile playing on your lips. "Because I could've sworn I heard you say you'd fuck me in front of everyone on this chair."
His eyes darkened. "You heard that?"
You smiled sweetly. "I'm not sure. Maybe you should say it again so I can be sure."
"Doll, you're playing a dangerous game."
"Am I?" You leaned closer, your lips almost brushing his. "I don't know what you mean."
"You know exactly what I mean."
"I really don't." You pouted. "You'll have to tell me."
His hands found your waist, gripping tightly. His voice dropped to a whisper. "I said I'd fuck you stupid right here. In front of everyone. On this chair."
Your breath caught, just for a second. Then you smiled, "Oh. That's what you said."
"Yeah." His eyes burned into yours. "That's what I said."
You opened your mouth to respond, but-
"Eyoo."
Jake's voice cut through the air. He was walking over, his eyes fixed on the two of you, his expression caught between playful and something much darker.
"Why you all up on my girl?"
You stepped back smoothly, all innocence like nothing had happened. "He was just helping with sunscreen, love."
Jake wrapped an arm around you, pulling you against his side. His eyes stayed locked on Sunghoon. "I can do that."
"I know." You pressed a kiss to his cheek, sweet and soft. "But you were busy swimming."
Sunghoon held up his hands, that lazy grin back on his face. "All yours, bro, just helping out."
Jake's grip tightened on your hip, just slightly. "Back up, man."
Sunghoon leaned back on his chair, but his eyes lingered on you for just a second too long. "Like I said all yours."
"I know she is," Jake muttered, pulling you toward the pool.
You let him drag you away, but you glanced over your shoulder at Sunghoon, just for a moment, and gave him a tiny, knowing smile.
Jake pulled you into the water, his hands on your waist, his grin wide and carefree. "You ready to lose, babe?"
"Lose?" You laughed, splashing him. "I don't lose."
"We'll see about that." He grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the others. You ended up playing some kind of tag game. You were swimming away from Ni-ki, your laughter echoing across the pool, when you almost fell and collided with something solid.
Or someone solid. You turned, and it was Jungwon.
His face was still red, his eyes wide. He'd caught you, his hands had landed on your waist to steady you but he was completely frozen, like every nerve in his body had short circuited at the feel of your skin against his palms.
"Jungwon?" You blinked up at him, your voice light and curious. "You okay?"
He opened his mouth but nothing came out. Just a strangled little sound that might have been a word.
"Won?" You reached up, touching his arm. Your fingers brushed against his bare skin, and he flinched. "Are you feeling okay? You look really red."
"I- yes- fine- I'm fine." His voice cracked, high and strained, completely betraying him.
"Are you sure? Because you look like you're about to pass out."
"I-" He backed away quickly, almost tripping over his own feet in the water. "I need- I have to-"
He practically swam away, disappearing into the deeper end, leaving you staring at him with raised eyebrows.
"Huh," you murmured to yourself, a slow smile spreading across your face. "Interesting."
You swam back to Jake, wrapping your arms around his neck, your body pressing against his in the water. "Jake, let's play sharks and mermaids."
He grinned, his hands gripping your waist. "Anything for you."
After swimming you all piled out of the pool, towels wrapped around wet bodies. The sun was starting to set, casting long shadows across the patio furniture.
You had thrown on a pair of tiny, skimpy shorts over your bikini bottom that were barely there, the hem riding dangerously high on your thighs. Your bikini top was still on, and your hair was dripping down your back, water droplets trailing down your skin. You were drying off when Sunoo appeared at your side.
"Ok, I see you," he said, his voice low and amused, a knowing smile playing on his lips.
You looked up, raising an eyebrow. "See me?"
"Yupp." He leaned against the railing, his eyes traveling down your body in a slow sweep. "I see exactly what you're doing. And I gotta say it's working."
You tilted your head, playing innocent. "I don't know what you mean."
"Yeah, you do." He stepped closer. "You know exactly what you're doing, and i'm impressed."
"You are?"
"Look at you." His eyes roamed over you again, slower this time, taking in every inch of exposed skin. "You're dangerous, and honestly? That's the hottest thing I've ever seen."
You laughed, soft and sweet. "I'm just being friendly."
"Friendly." He snorted, shaking his head. "Is that what we're calling it? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're collecting souvenirs."
You tilted your head. "Souvenirs?"
"Yeah." He stepped even closer, his body now flush against yours. "You've got Jake wrapped around your finger. Heeseung's been walking around like a ghost ever since you disappeared with him. Hoon is still recovering from whatever happened on that chair. And now you're here, looking at me like I'm next."
You reached up, fixing a piece of his hair, letting your fingers trail down his cheek. "And what if you are?"
His hand caught your wrist, his thumb brushing over your pulse. "Then I'd say you're missing the best ones."
"Best ones?"
"Me and Hoon." His voice was low, lips almost brushing your ear. "We've talked about it a lot actually. We could handle you better than Jake ever could. Think about it the two of us. All the attention you want, all the time. No limits, no jealousy, or holding back."
You let out a soft breath, your eyes locked on his. "Sounds like you've put a lot of thought into this."
"Maybe I have." He released your wrist, stepping back, but his eyes never left yours. "Just think about it, sweetheart. We'd treat you so good. Better than he ever could. Better than anyone ever could."
He walked away, and you watched him go, a slow smile spreading across your face. The way he moved, the confidence in his stride, the promise lingering in his words it was almost enough to make you forget about the others.
Almost.
You turned back toward the house, your skin still warm from the sun and something else. The sliding glass door was open, towels everywhere, everyone grabbing spots in the massive living room. Someone had put on some action movie and everyone was sprawled across couches and cushions.
You were sandwiched between Jake and Ni-ki. Jake had his arm around you, his hand resting on your hip, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin. Ni-ki was on your other side, trying to pretend he wasn't hyperaware of every inch of your body, the way your thigh pressed against his, the way your shoulder brushed his whenever you shifted.
Sunoo was across the room, shooting you a knowing look. Sunghoon was next to him, grinning like he knew something no one else did, his gaze lingering on you just a little too long. Heeseung was still dazed, his eyes finding you every few seconds before looking away. Jungwon was as far away from you as possible, still refusing to meet your eyes.
And Jake was already half asleep, his head dropping onto your shoulder, his breathing evening out. You smiled to yourself, settling deeper into the couch, your fingers absently playing with Jake's hair.
The night was just getting started.
The movie droned on, explosions and dramatic music filling the room. Jake's head was heavy on your shoulder, completely dead to the world. His arm was still draped across your lap, his fingers loose and unmoving.
You stretched, letting out a soft, exaggerated sigh. "I'm so stiff," you murmured, mostly to yourself, but loud enough for the person beside you to hear. "All that swimming and those games. My whole body aches."
You glanced to your side. Ni-ki was watching you, his expression neutral, but his eyes betrayed him. They kept dropping to where your thigh pressed against his, to the way your bikini top strained with every breath.
"Oh really?" he said, his voice too casual.
"Yeah." You rolled your shoulder, wincing dramatically. "I wish Jake was awake, he gives really good massages."
Ni-ki was quiet for a moment. Then "I could do it."
You turned to look at him, your eyes wide and innocent. "You?"
"Yeah. I mean... if you want."
"Would you?" You bit your lower lip, tilting your head. "That would be so nice. My thighs are killing me."
He swallowed hard. "Turn around a little."
You shifted slowly making sure to not wake Jake, his hands landed on your shoulders. His touch was hesitant at first, fingers pressing tentatively into your tight muscles. You let out a soft hum of approval, and he seemed to relax, his grip firming.
"Lower," you breathed. "My thighs are really sore."
His hands slid down, gripping your bare thighs. His thumbs pressed into the muscle, working out the tension, but his hands kept creeping higher, closer to the edge of your shorts. His breathing was uneven, his fingers digging in just a little too firmly.
"Ni-ki," you whispered.
"Yeah?"
"Your hands are so dry." You glanced back at him, your voice soft and sweet. "The friction hurts."
"Oh. Sorry." He started to pull back.
You caught his wrists. "Here, let me."
Slowly, you brought his fingers to your lips. Your eyes locked on his as you parted your lips, taking two of his fingers into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around them, wetting them thoroughly, while his jaw went slack and his eyes went dark.
"Mmm." You released his fingers with a soft pop, still holding his gaze. "Better."
You guided his hand back to your inner thigh, placing it exactly where you wanted it. His fingers were slick now, gliding easily against your skin.
"Now you can-"
"BRO!" Jay's voice cut through the room like a whip. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
You and Ni-ki jerked apart instantly. Your heart was pounding, your face flushed, your lips still wet from his fingers.
Jay was standing by the tv, phone in hand, but he wasn't looking at you. He was looking at Jake, who was still passed out on the couch.
"Bro is literally sleeping," Jay said, laughing. "At like, 9 PM. What is wrong with him?"
"Oh." You let out a breath, your hand pressing to your chest. "Yeah, He's really tired." You forced a smile, but your heart was still racing.
Ni-ki wasn't looking at you. His hands were clenched at his sides. You settled back against the couch, your thigh pressing against his again.
"Thanks, Ni-ki," you said softly, just for him to hear. "That really helped."
He didn't respond, but you saw the slight smirk on his face. You smiled to yourself and turned your attention to Jake.
You reached over, gently shaking his shoulder. "Jake Jake, wake up." He stirred, mumbling something incoherent, his arm tightening around your waist.
"Baby, wake up," you said softer, brushing his hair from his forehead. "Everyone wants to play a game."
His eyes fluttered open. "Hmm?"
"Truth or Dare," Sunghoon announced from across the room. "Drinking game version, you got to take a shot if you don't do the truth or dare."
Jake groaned, rubbing his eyes. "Fine. But I'm not drinking that much."
"You say that every time," Jay laughed.
You smiled sweetly at Jake. "I'll get the drinks for everyone. You just wake up."
He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "You're the best, baby."
You slipped off the couch, heading toward the kitchen. You needed a moment. Just a moment to collect yourself after whatever that was with Ni-ki. His fingers in your mouth, his hands on your thighs, the way he'd looked at you like he wanted all of you had you buzzing.
You opened the fridge, scanning the shelves, but you couldn't find the bottles. You opened the freezer, checked the cabinets. Nothing.
"Looking for this?"
You turned. Jay was leaning against a kitchen counter, bottles of soju dangling from his fingers. His eyes were dark, his expression unreadable.
"Yeah, thanks." You turned to reach for the cups but you froze when you felt him inching closer.
"I got it." He moved behind you, reaching up to grab the shot cups, but he didn't move away. His body caged you in, one hand on the counter beside your hip, the other braced on the shelf.
"Jay." Your voice was soft. "What do you think you're doing?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he pressed closer, his chest flush against your back, his hips pushing into yours. You could feel everything, the firmness of his thighs, the pressure of him against your lower back.
Your breath caught. "You're pressed all up on me. Wonder what Jake would say seeing his besfriend on his girl like this."
"Pft." He laughed, a low, humorless sound against your ear. "Like you care about what Jake would say."
"Excuse me?"
"I've been watching you all day." His voice dropped, rough and accusatory. "Flaunting around in those skimpy little clothes. Grinding up on Heeseung. Getting Hoon to touch every inch of you. Whatever the hell you were doing with Ni-ki on that couch." His hand landed on your hip, gripping hard. "You think I didn't notice?"
"Jay-"
"You're not innocent." He spun you around, his body pressing you against the counter, his hands gripping your hips. "Everyone knows that now. Jake's just too blind to see it. But me? I see exactly what you are."
You swallowed hard, your heart racing. "And what am I?"
"A fucking slut." His jaw was tight, his eyes burning. "You're desperate for attention, aren't you?" He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. "Can't go five minutes without someone looking at you."
"You're being mean," you breathed, but there was no protest in your voice.
"Yeah?" His hand slid up your side, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast. "You don't seem to mind."
You didn't. You hated how much you didn't mind.
"Jay, we can't-"
"Can't what?" He cut you off, his voice sharp. "Can't do this? Can't admit that you want it?" His hand gripped your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "You're not fooling anyone, sweetheart. Least of all me."
Your lips parted. Your body was feeling all kinds of things. But before you could respond, before anything could happen-
"Hey would y'all rather have candy or chi-."
You both froze.
Jungwon stood in the kitchen, his eyes wide, his mouth open. He was clutching a bag of chips, his face already turning crimson.
"I- sorry- I was just- grabbing snacks-"
He was already backing out, stumbling over his own feet.
"Won, wait-" you started, but he was gone.
"Relax." Jay leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. "Jungwon's not going to say anything."
"How do you know that?"
"Because I know him." Jay shrugged, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "He's probably in the bathroom right now, trying to figure out how to get rid of his hard on."
Your mouth dropped open. "Jay."
"What? It's true." He laughed. "The kid's been walking around with a boner all day because of you. You think he's gonna run and tell Jake? Oh please.
"That's not- he wouldn't-"
"He would." Jay stepped closer, his voice dropping. "And honestly? I wouldn't be surprised if he wanted to join in."
Your face was burning. "You're insane."
"Maybe." He tilted his head. "But I'm not wrong. You can't stand there in those little shorts, grinding on everyone all day, and act surprised when people want a piece."
He stepped back, grabbing a bottle from the counter. "Anyways. Better get back before Jake starts wondering where his precious girl went."
He turned and walked out, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding, your mind spinning. You stood for a moment, then you grabbed the cups and headed back to the living room, trying to compose yourself.
Everyone was already settled, waiting for the drinks. Jake looked up when you entered, his eyes soft. "You okay, baby? You look flustered."
"Fine." You forced a smile, setting the drinks on the coffee table. "Just... couldn't find the bottles. Jay helped."
"Of course he did." Jake pulled you onto his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist. You let out a shaky laugh, pressing your face into his neck.
From across the room, Jungwon was staring at you, his face still bright red. And Jay was sitting beside him, smirking, whispering something in his ear that made Jungwon's blush deepen even further.
The game started slowly. A few harmless dares, some easy truths. Sunghoon had to chug his drink. Sunoo admitted he'd hooked up with someone in a supply closet. Ni-ki had to do a lap around the house in his boxers.
Then it was your turn.
"Truth or Dare?" Ni-ki asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.
You smiled sweetly. "Dare."
"I dare you to make out with Jake. Right now. In front of everyone."
The room erupted. Whistles, hoots, Sunghoon slapping the table. Jake's ears went red, but he was grinning.
You didn't hesitate. You turned to Jake, cupping his face in your hands, and kissed him. Deep and slow, your tongue sliding against his, your fingers threading through his hair. Jake groaned against your mouth, his hands gripping your waist and ass.
When you finally pulled back, the room was dead silent.
"Holy shit," Ni-ki breathed.
Jake was out of it, his lips swollen, his eyes low. "Fuck baby"
"Your turn," you said sweetly, snuggling into Jake's lap and facing the others.
The game continued. A few more dares, some scandalous truths. Sunghoon admitted he'd had a threesome. Jay confessed he'd hooked up with someone twice his age. Heeseung got dared to do a body shot off Sunoo's chest.
Then it was Jungwon's turn.
"Jungwon," Sunoo pointed at him. "Truth or Dare?"
"Truth." He looked relieved to not have to do anything.
Sunghoon leaned forward, a wicked grin on his face. "Okay, Won. Who's the best fuck of your life?"
Jungwon went completely still. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. He looked around the room like he was searching for an escape.
"Uh I-"
"Oh my god." Sunoo sat up. "Who is it? Spill."
"I- I haven't-" Jungwon was stammering, his ears burning. "I've never..."
"Never what?" Ni-ki asked.
"I've never done anything." The words came out in a rush. "Like, anything. I haven't- I've never-"
The room went silent.
"Wait, what?" Jay said, his eyes wide. "But what about that girl? Last year? The one from the party?"
"We just kissed," Jungwon admitted. "She wanted to do more, but... I didn't think she was the right one. I wanted it to mean something."
"Bro." Ni-ki shook his head. "You're kidding."
"I'm not."
"That's actually sweet," Sunoo said softly.
"It's not sweet, it's sad," Heeseung muttered.
"Shut up." Jungwon was mortified. "It's not sad. I just... I wanted to wait for someone who actually mattered."
Your eyes met his across the room. Something flickered, something you couldn't quite name. He looked away quickly, his face still burning.
"Okay, okay," Sunghoon said, breaking the tension. "Moving on. Heeseung, your turn."
The game went on, but you couldn't stop thinking about the way Jungwon had looked at you. Like he was asking a question he didn't know how to voice.
The game calmed down slowly, the energy fading as the night stretched on.
Heeseung was passed out on the floor, his arm flung over his face. Sunoo was slumped against the couch. Ni-ki had his head on Sunghoon's shoulder, both of them barely awake. Jake was still conscious but barely his eyes were glassy, his body heavy against yours, his grip on your waist loose.
Only a few of them were still somewhat sober. Jay, who'd been nursing the same drink for an hour. Jungwon, who'd barely touched anything. And you.
"I'm gonna grab some blankets," Jungwon mumbled, standing up quickly. "For everyone." He was gone before anyone could respond. You waited a beat. Then another.
"Jake," you said softly, brushing his hair from his forehead. "I'm gonna go help him."
"Mmm help what?" He was already half asleep, his eyes fluttering shut. "Um okay, baby, come back fast."
"I will." You pressed a kiss to his forehead and slipped away.
You found Jungwon in the hallway, pulling blankets from the hall closet. His back was to you, his shoulders tense.
"Won."
He spun around, his eyes wide. "Oh. Hey. I was just-"
"Getting blankets, I know." You stepped closer, your voice soft. "You've been avoiding me all night."
"I haven't- I wasn't-" He swallowed hard, clutching the blankets like a shield. "I just-"
"You just what?" You stopped in front of him. "You've barely looked at me since the game. Why?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't lie to me." Your voice was gentle but firm. "You've been staring at me all day. Every time I looked at you, you looked away. I saw you, Jungwon."
His breath hitched. "I-"
"Tell me." You reached up, touching his cheek. "Tell me what's going on in that head of yours."
He closed his eyes at your touch, leaning into it like he couldn't help himself. "I don't know. I don't know what's wrong with me."
"There's nothing wrong with you."
"Yes there is." His voice cracked. "You're Jake's girl. And I can't stop-" He stopped himself, his jaw tightening.
"Can't stop what?"
He opened his eyes, and they were full of need and desperation. "I can't stop thinking about you. Every time you touched someone else, every time you looked at someone else, I-" He broke off, shaking his head. "It's not right, you're his. And he's my friend, I shouldn't-"
"Won." You stepped closer, your body nearly brushing his. "Look at me."
He did.
"Jake doesn't own me." Your voice was soft, sweet, manipulative. "And he doesn't have to know."
"What?"
"You heard me." You tilted your head, your fingers trailing down his chest. "Why do you think I followed you here? Why do you think I've been watching you all day?"
"I don't-"
"Because I've been thinking about you too." You got closer allowing your lips to brush his ear. "Ever since you told everyone you've never been with anyone. I couldn't stop thinking about it."
His breath was coming faster now. "You- you have?"
"Mhm." Your hand slid down, resting on his hip. "A sweet, innocent boy who's never been touched? Who's been waiting for the right person?" You pulled back, meeting his eyes. "That's so rare and so precious."
"Please don't." His voice was barely a whisper. "Please don't tease me."
"Who said I was teasing?" You smiled. "I want to teach you and show you what you've been missing."
His eyes went wide. "Mommy-" He clapped his hand over his mouth immediately.
You laughed, soft and delighted. "Mommy?"
He shook his head frantically, then nodded, then shook his head again. "I- I didn't mean to say that-"
"Don't apologize." You pushed him back against the wall, your body pressing against his. "I like it, say it again."
"Mommy," he breathed, his voice breaking.
"Good boy." You kissed him, slow and deep, and he whimpered against your mouth. "Now be quiet, okay? You don't want anyone to hear, do you?"
He shook his head, his hands gripping your waist.
You dropped to your knees in front of him, your fingers working at his belt. He was already hard, straining against his jeans, and you smiled up at him.
"Mommy's gonna teach you how to feel good, okay?"
He nodded frantically. "Okay."
You pulled him out, and he gasped, his head falling back against the wall. He was thick, heavy in your hand, the skin hot and smooth. The tip was already glistening, a bead of precum threatening to spill over. You took him in your mouth, and he bit down on his hand to stifle the sound.
"Mommy-" he choked out. "Mommy, I-"
"Shh," you murmured, pulling back just enough to speak. "Don't cum yet. Not until I say."
You knew he wouldn't last. He was already trembling, his thighs shaking, his breathing ragged. You could feel the way he was swelling on your tongue, the way his hips were fighting the urge to thrust into your mouth.
"I can't- I can't-"
"Yes you can." You looked up at him. "Be good for Mommy."
He lasted another three minutes before he was begging, his voice a desperate whimper.
"Please- please, Mommy, I can't- I need-"
"Okay," you said softly. "Cum for me, baby."
He did, his hips full on thrusting into your mouth, a broken moan escaping his lips. You swallowed every drop, and when he finally leaned against the wall, trembling, you stood up and kissed him.
"You're so good," you whispered against his lips. "That was so good."
"I-" He was panting, his eyes glassy. "That was-"
"That was just the beginning." You took his hand, guiding it between your thighs. "Now it's your turn to learn."
He dropped to his knees without hesitation, looking up at you with desperate, worshipful eyes. "Teach me, Mommy," he breathed. "Teach me how to make you feel good."
You smiled, threading your fingers through his hair. "Open your mouth, baby."
He did immediately, his lips parting, his tongue flat and waiting. So eager and so perfect.
"Say ahh for mommy," you cooed, and he obeyed, a soft "ahh" escaping his throat. You leaned down, gathering spit in your mouth, and let it fall onto his tongue. He swallowed instinctively, his eyes never leaving yours. You guided his head, telling him exactly what to do, how to move his tongue, where to touch. He was clumsy at first, but eager, so eager.
"Like that?" he asked, his voice muffled.
"Just like that," you breathed, your head falling back. "Keep going. Don't stop."
You were lost in the moment, Jungwon's head between your thighs, his tongue moving exactly how you'd taught him. His hands gripped your hips, desperate and eager, and you were so close until.
"What the actual fuck is going on?"
You looked up. Jake was standing in the hall, his eyes wide, his face pale. He was swaying slightly, still tipsy from all the drinking, but there was nothing unfocused about the way he was staring at you or more like at Jungwon's head between your thighs.
"Jake-" you started, but he cut you off.
"What the fuck is this?" His voice cracked, raw and disbelieving. "Jungwon? Seriously? My own friend? With my girl?"
Jungwon scrambled back, his face white, his lips still wet. "Jake, I- I can explain-"
"Explain?" Jake laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Explain what? Explain why you're eating out my girl in the middle of the damn hallway?"
You stood up quickly, adjusting your shorts, your face shifting into something soft and sorry. "Jake, baby, please-"
"Don't 'baby' me." He was shaking, his hands clenched at his sides. "I trusted you. I trusted both of you. And you-" He pointed at Jungwon, his hand trembling. "You're supposed to be my friend."
"I'm sorry," Jungwon whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry-"
"Sorry doesn't fix this!" Jake shouted.
You stepped closer, reaching for his hands. "Jake, listen to me. Jungwon didn't know what he was doing. He's never been with anyone. He didn't know-"
"Bullshit." Jake pulled his hands away. "He knew exactly what he was doing. He had his face between your legs-"
"He didn't understand," you said, your voice soft and manipulative. "He was just curious. He asked me to teach him. I was just... helping him. That's all."
Jake stared at you, his jaw tight. "Teaching him?"
"Yes." You reached up, cupping his face. "He's never done anything before, Jake. He's never even kissed anyone properly. He asked me to show him. And I thought- I thought you'd understand-"
"I don't understand anything right now."
"I know." You pressed closer, your body against his. "I'm so sorry, baby. I should have told you. I should have asked you first. But he was just so innocent, and I didn't want to say no to him-"
Jake's hands came up, gripping your waist. Not pulling you away, just holding.
"Jake," you whispered, your lips brushing his. "I'm yours, you know that."
He was quiet for a long moment. Then, slowly, something shifted in his eyes. "Fine," he said, his voice low. "Next time, I want to be involved."
You blinked. "What?"
"You heard me." His grip on your waist tightened. "You want to teach him? Fine. But I'm going to be there."
Your breath caught. "Jake-"
"Matter of fact why don't you go teach him now since he seems so eager." His voice was rough and commanding. "Should we take it to the bedroom?"
You nodded slowly, a smile curling at your lips. You turned, grabbing Jungwon's hand. "Come on," you said softly. "You heard him."
Jungwon looked between you and Jake, his eyes wide. "I-" You pulled him down the hallway, toward the bedroom, Jake followed.
You pushed Jungwon onto the bed, his body bouncing against the mattress, his eyes wide and waiting. Jake settled on the edge of the bed, his arms crossed, his jaw tight, trying to project an authority he didn't quite know how to hold.
But that wasn't enough for you.
You reached out, grabbing Jake's wrist and pulling him down beside Jungwon. He stumbled, caught off guard, and landed on the mattress with a soft grunt. Jungwon's eyes went even wider, his breath hitching as he realized he was lying next to Jake. Both of them. Together. For you.
"Better," you murmured, looking down at them. "I want both of you where I can see you."
"Alright yeah whatever," Jake said, his voice trying for commanding but landing somewhere unsure. "Teach him what he's dying to learn"
You glanced at him, a small smile playing on your lips. He was trying so hard to be in control, but you could see right through it from the uncertainty in his eyes, to the way his fingers drummed against his arm.
You crawled onto the bed, positioning yourself between Jake's legs. "Watch closely, Won. You're about to learn how to make someone feel really, really good."
Jake's breath hitched as you worked his jeans open, pulling him out. He was already hard, already leaking, and you licked your lips slowly.
"First," you said, your voice low and instructional, "you don't just go for it. You tease and make them beg for it."
You leaned in, dragging your tongue along the length of him, slow and torturous. Jake's head fell back, a groan escaping his lips.
"Like that," you continued, your breath warm against his skin. "You use your tongue and take your time. You make them ache for more."
You took him into your mouth, just the tip, swirling your tongue around the head. Jake's hands fisted in the sheets, his hips bucking instinctively.
"Fucking hell" he choked out.
"See?" You pulled back, stroking him with your hand while you spoke. "He's already losing it , that's what you want. You want them completely undone."
Jungwon was watching with wide, desperate eyes, his own arousal showing against his jeans. He was leaking, you could see it, his hips shifting restlessly.
You took Jake deeper this time, your head bobbing, your tongue working him perfectly. You moaned around him, the vibration making him shiver.
"Baby-" Jake was panting, his hand coming up to grip your hair. "I'm close-"
"Not yet." You pulled away, smirking. "You don't let them cum until you're ready. You control the pace because you're in charge."
You took him again, faster this time, your hand working what your mouth couldn't reach. Jake was a mess above you, moaning, cursing, his hips thrusting up into your mouth.
"Please-" he begged. "Please, baby, I'm so close-"
You batted your lashes up at him, your mouth full and warm, your lips stretched around his thick length. Your tongue swirled lazily around the tip, and a string of saliva and precum dripped down your chin, glistening in the dim light.
You held his gaze, wide and innocent, even as you took him deeper, your throat relaxing to accommodate every inch. A bead of precum escaped, pooling at the corner of your mouth, and you let it sit there.
That was all it took.
Jake came with a broken cry, his hips bucking, spilling into your mouth. You swallowed every drop, keeping your eyes locked on his, and when you pulled back, you licked your lips clean.
"Like that," you said, turning to Jungwon. "That's how you make someone feel good."
Jungwon was frozen, his mouth open, his eyes glassy. His pants were tented, a dark spot growing at the tip.
"Mommy," he breathed, his voice wrecked. "Please-"
"Shh." You crawled over to him, your fingers trailing down his chest. "You'll get your turn, love, but first remember-"
You leaned in, kissing Jake, letting him taste himself on your tongue. He groaned into your mouth, his hands gripping your waist.
Then you turned to Jungwon, capturing his lips in a deep, filthy kiss. He whimpered against your mouth, his hands fumbling for you.
You pulled back, smiling at both of them. "Sharing is caring."
They were both looking up at you like you held the world. And you were loving every second of it. But before you could make another move, the door swung open.
"Well what do we have here." Jay stood in the doorway, his eyes wide, taking in the scene. Jake lying there looking lost, Jungwon trembling beneath you, you hovering over both of them with a grin on your face.
"Jay?" Jake started, pushing himself up.
"Shut up." Jay's voice was cold. He stepped into the room, his eyes fixed on Jake. "What the hell are you doing? You're supposed to be in control here. You're supposed to be the one running things. And instead you're just lying there like a fucking bitch in heat?"
Jake's face went red. "I-"
"Pathetic." Jay shook his head, then turned his gaze to you. "And you. You think you're so clever, don't you? Playing all of us and getting exactly what you want."
"Jay-"
"Shut your mouth." He stepped closer, his voice dropping to something dangerous. "You've been flaunting yourself all day, grinding on everyone. Letting them touch you, thinking you're untouchable."
Your breath caught. "I wasn't-"
"Don't lie to me." He gripped your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. "I saw everything. I heard everything. You're nothing but a desperate little slut who needs attention from anyone who'll give it to you."
Your pulse raced, your skin burned. And you hated how much you wanted more.
"And you." He turned to Jungwon, who was still frozen, his face pale. "You think you're so innocent? You were begging for it. Calling her Mommy like a pathetic little bitch."
Jungwon whimpered, his eyes dropping.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you." Jungwon's head snapped up.
"Get on your knees," Jay commanded. "And fuck her. Properly. Like I'm going to teach you."
Jungwon scrambled to obey, positioning himself between your legs. But he was clumsy, unsure, his hands shaking.
"No," Jay said, his voice sharp. "Like this."
He moved behind Jungwon, guiding his hips, positioning him exactly where he wanted. "You thrust like this, don't be gentle."
Jungwon followed his instructions, and you gasped as he pushed into you. It wasn't Jake's practiced rhythm or your own control. It was raw and uncoordinated, and you could feel every inch.
"That's it," Jay murmured, watching. "Fuck her like she deserves."
Jungwon found a rhythm, his movements becoming more confident. You moaned with your head falling back. Jay's hands slid up your stomach, his fingers finding your breasts. He cupped them, squeezing gently at first, then with more urgency. His thumbs found your nipples and he rolled them between his fingers, pinching and teasing.
"Look at you," he said, his voice dripping with contempt. "Taking it from him like a good little slut."
"Jay" Jake started from the side, but his voice was weak, fading.
"Shut up." Jay didn't even look at him. "You're useless right now, just watch."
You were getting close. You could feel it building, the tension coiling in your belly.
"I think she's close," Jungwon breathed, his voice strained.
"Yeah?" Jay's grin was cruel. "Well, we can't have that, can we?"
He grabbed Jungwon's shoulder, pulling him off you. You cried out, frustrated and desperate.
"What the fuck is your problem? What are you doing?" you gasped.
"That's what you get," Jay said, his voice cold. "For acting the way you did today, you don't get to finish until I say so."
"Fuck ok please," you begged, your voice breaking. "Please, come on Jay, I need it."
"No." He pushed you back onto the bed. "You need to learn your lesson."
Jake stirred beside you, his voice slurred. "Be nice to her."
"Nice?" Jay laughed. "She doesn't want nice, she wants this." He gripped your face, forcing you to meet his eyes. "Don't you?"
You nodded, tears pricking at your eyes. "Yes. Please."
"Then suck." He unzipped his pants, pulling himself out. "And maybe I'll let you cum."
You didn't hesitate. You took him in your mouth, and he was rough, so rough. His hand fisted in your hair, forcing you deeper, and you gagged, tears streaming down your cheeks.
"Look at you," he groaned. "So desperate. So pathetic. This is exactly what you wanted."
Spit dripped down your chin, your throat burning, but you couldn't stop. You didn't want to stop. Jungwon watched, his hand moving over himself. Jake was beside you, his fingers finding your cunt, playing with you while you choked on Jay.
"That's it," Jay breathed. "Take it all."
Before you could process it he finished in your mouth, hot and thick, and you pulled back, ready to swallow.
"Wait." His voice was sharp. "Don't swallow."
You looked up at him, confused, your mouth full of his cum.
"Spit it out," he said, leaning back. "On my abs."
You hesitated for a second, then leaned forward, letting it drip onto his stomach. It pooled there, white and glistening, and right as you were going to say something maybe curse him out or be bratty-
"Jungwon." Jay's voice was calm. "Clean it up."
Jungwon froze. "What?"
"You heard me. Lick me clean like a good kitty."
Your eyes went wide, Jungwon was hesitant. But he leaned forward, his tongue darting out to taste Jay's skin, lapping up the mess you'd left behind. Jungwon pulled back, his lips slick, his eyes meeting Jay's before he leaned in again. Cleaning the last traces of cum from his stomach.
Your breath caught. Everyone was frozen, watching.
"Fuck," you breathed, and Jay laughed.
"See?" he said, his hand sliding through your hair. "That's what happens when you're good."
"But I- I didn't finish," you said, your voice small. "Please. I need to finish."
Jake stirred beside you. "I got you, baby." His hand was already between your thighs, clumsy and desperate, trying to make you cum but he ended up humping your thighs. He was so drunk, so wrecked, that he came within minutes, his hips bucking against you, leaving you completely unsatisfied.
"Jake," you whined, your voice breaking. "Get it together"
He was already passed out, his body going slack.
You turned to Jay, tears streaming down your cheeks. "Jay, please. I need it."
"Yeah?" His voice was cold. "Then beg bitch."
"Please," you sobbed. "Please, Jay. I need you. I need you to fuck me. Please."
"Fine." He pushed you onto your hands and knees, and he was inside you in one motion hard and mean, his hand fisting in your hair, pulling your head back.
"This is what you wanted," he growled. "All day. All fucking day. And now you're going to take it."
He was brutal and punishing, his hips slapping against yours with every thrust. Jungwon was still there, stroking himself, his eyes wide.
"Put it in her mouth," Jay commanded, and Jungwon didn't hesitate.
Your mouth opened, and he pushed inside, and you were filled. Both holes completely full and completely used.
Jay came first, deep inside you, and you felt him pulse. Jungwon followed, and you swallowed him down, desperate and wrecked.
Jay pulled out and reached for his phone on the nightstand, unlocking it with a lazy swipe of his thumb.
"Smile," he said, his voice low and amused.
He snapped a picture, then another, then a video.
He captured everything from the mess of Jungwon's cum dripping down your chin with your tongue out. To the cum on Jungwon's jaw, neck and collarbone that nobody even knew where it came from. To Jake's glassy eyes and limp body.
"Fucking beautiful," Jay muttered, his grin widening. "The boys are going to love this." He sent them to the group chat. Every single photo, every video.
His grin never faded. "Now they know exactly what they're missing."
◟in which◝ your husband wants you to squeeze a little harder while you ride him
•﹙ 741 ﹚── husband! jay ✶ 𝑓. reader┊ custom order 📋 𝒘arnings. . . explicit sexual content smut (mdni) ✿ unprotected sex ﹕ choking ﹕ breath play ﹕ riding ﹕ pet names (baby/babe) ﹕ don't like it? don't read. 𓄲 { masterlist }
sticky notes: putting this in words gave me a headache… anyways something short based off this post i saw a couple weeks ago (not proofread)
“fuck, baby— just like that—shit… keep going for me,” jay pants, his voice trailing off into a low moan. his hand rests on your waist, grinding you down against him while the other pinches and tugs at your swollen nipple.
you were already riding him, knees pressed into the mattress and his cock buried deep inside of you. your hips roll in a practiced rhythm, palms flat against his sweat-slicked chest, head tilted back in pure bliss. you could feel you orgasm beginning to build, the tight coil in your lower stomach, the way his cock kissed your cervix with every roll of your hips.
“babe… fuck—your hands—” jay grunts, voice low and gravely, pulling you from your pleasure-induced trance. you didn’t even realize what you were doing until he snapped you out of it. your hands had trailed up his chest until they rested against his neck, pressing down a bit too hard, forcing him to speak up.
“shit—im so sorry, jay...” you gasp, hands snapping back as if you touched a live wire, hips faltering as your eyes searched for any signs of discomfort, any bruises that could form in seconds.
“i didn’t tell you to stop.”
the words hung in the air, catching you off guard. your husband usually liked things gentle—the kind of sex where he could feel the love in every moment, so this was a total surprise. jay’s hands slide up your thighs and grip your waist, directing your movements against him. he moves to grab your wrists and guide them back against the hot, flushed skin of his neck.
“cmon, baby,” he coos, speaking to you casually as if he wasn’t asking you to choke him. his hands wrap around yours, pressing down until you could feel the rapid beat of his pulse. “squeeze. s’all you got to do, baby.”
you look at him hesitantly, not knowing what to decide. but what can you do when he’s looking up at you that—like you were the only thing in his orbit, pure hunger swarming in his eyes. and you can see it clearly… he’s exactly where he wants to be.
you wrap your fingers around his neck and tighten them, feeling the muscles and hitch in his breath from the sudden pressure. he chokes out a laugh, face twisting in pleasure once you started bouncing on his cock again, your hands around his neck adding to the intensity.
“there you go… a bit harder,” he rasps, voice thick and strained, wheezing out praises. his cock thrusts in and out of you, a creamy white ring of slick forming at the base of his cock from how long you've been riding him. “that’s my good girl,” he chokes out another praise, his skin a deep, flushed red from the blood traveling to his head.
the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin, his breathing straining as the pressure increased, filled the dimly lit bedroom. he wheezes your name, voice rough and wrecked, his bucking up to meet your rhythm, his hands pressing yours down, wanting you to use him completely. every thrust makes your breath hitch and come out in short gasp, your slick coating his length.
“jay—fuck… gonna—” you cry out, thumb pressing down on his windpipe, forgetting you're in complete control of his airway. you could feel your orgasm building quickly again from the sight of him beneath you.
jay can only manage a low, airy groan, head dizzy, looking up at you through half-lidded eyes like he's about to pass out, but the way his hips are snapping up into your soaked pussy tells other wise.
it doesn't take long for either of you to come—his name ripping from your throat the second yours hits, thumbs pressing down, pussy clenching around him. as for jay, he can't make any noise, except for a low, strained groan as his cum fills you to the brim.
when you finally pull your hands away, he strains for air, gasping raggedly. you can see dark purple fingerprints developing on the sides of his neck, settling there perfectly. seconds later after catching his breath, jay sits up and pulls you against his chest, pressing a kiss against your temple as if you needed comforting.
"that was so good, baby," he whispers, voice raspy as he continues catches his breath. he gently rubs your back, calming your racing heart. " gonna need you to do that more often, okay, baby?"
-
sticky notes: love love love writing for jay… that’s my husband fr
can we plsss get strip play!!! orr maybe even hate sex?? love ur work!!
FUCK ME LIKE YOU HATE ME ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
𝓦ARNINGS: ㅤ♡ྀི ₊ YANG JUNGWON x f reader, minors do not interact, slapping, brief strip play?, hate sex, size difference, insults, lot of kissing and sloppy makeout, rough sex, lip biting, degradation kink, reader lowkey loosing her mind, unprotected sex, choking ⋆. 𐙚 ˚
I’m sorry this took so long 𑣲⋆
“Take it off.”
Jungwon’s voice is firm and doesn’t leave room for doubt. He’s serious about this. As serious as he was when he said you were the worst girl he’d ever met and that he wished you would just disappear.
With a small movement of his finger, he encompasses your whole body and his eyes linger on your pesky little top.
He hates it, just as much as he hates you. He wants it off, dead and gone. He could spend hours talking about how little it covers, but won’t ever get in depth about how that makes him feel. You suspect that’s why he kissed you in the first place, after that big argument. He couldn’t admit he liked that top and probably wanted to do insane things to you while you were wearing it, so the kiss was efficient—it could shut him up before he even had the chance to say what he was actually thinking.
“No.” you reply, tone quite defying and chin tilted up.
Jungwon gets closer until you have to tilt your head up to look at him. Long gone is the bubbly boy everyone knows (not that you ever had access to that side of him anyway), he’s standing in front of you all imposing, hoping to make you feel even smaller than you already are.
“You had no problem kissing me but that’s where you draw the line?” he breathes out a chuckle.
That is…true. For the past couple of minutes—or hours who knows—you’ve been kissing him like the world is ending and there’s a timer above your head. It was aggressive at first, all teeth and mouths clashing, then it got…even more aggressive. Your hands joined the battle and you tugged at his stupid shirt, fisted it in his stupid hair and pulled until he was groaning in your mouth.
Would be a tremendous lie to say you didn’t like it.
Especially when his knee came between your thighs as he pinned you to the nearest wall. The old you (the one from 40 minutes ago) would’ve hated it, she would’ve recoiled and threw up blood or something. But you remember grinding on his thigh shamelessly, taken aback by the sensations it awakened.
“Why would I even do that?” you spit out, keeping your chin up as if your panties aren’t soaked and dripping down your inner thighs.
“Should I do it then?” Jungwon teases, though he’s not even playful about it, he just wants to see you give into him.
“Fuck no.” you reply through clenched teeth, pushing at his chest with your fist. But the pull is so much stronger, your eyes are unconsciously drawn to his plump lips and suddenly your words don’t make much sense even to yourself.
“Okay then.” the bastard simply says, shrugging and walking to the bed. He sits on the edge, legs spread like the smug bastard he is and he just glances up and down at you.
Bunch of liars, you and him both.
Ten minutes later you let your flimsy top drop to the floor. Call it skill issue but you couldn’t pretend you didn’t want it anymore. After all, you’ve given him your mouth, he could have the rest of your body for just one night too, right? Nothing wrong with that, except maybe just maybe it trespasses all your morals and values.
But that’ll be your cross to bear later.
“There you go,” Jungwon says in a low voice, reaching for the fabric of your shorts and hooking his fingers into the belt loops. He pulls you toward him until you’re standing right between his spread legs, knees hitting the bed.
You can’t see his face anymore when his hand climb up to your waist and he drops his forehead to your stomach, taking in a deep breath. You wonder what’s he’s thinking about, if he’s regretting it already or if he’s just trying to calm his breathing. You don’t know, it’s impossible to tell with him, everything he does is just confusing to the point where you’re wondering if you’re going crazy.
“How long have you wanted this for?” he asks, his breath directly warm on your belly. “Bet it’s been a long long time, am I right?”
You scoff, he’s so cocky it hurts, you want to slap him. Or sit on his face, you don’t even know.
“Fuck off. You’re just here right now, so do something.” you retort.
Jungwon huffs, you can tell he’s amused by the shape of his lips turning into a smile against your skin. “Oh so you could be doing this with anyone?” he asks.
You want this one to hit, you want him to believe you so you tug his head back by the hair and make him look at you. Jungwon’s smile fades as soon as his eyes are on you and his grip tightens on your waist.
“Yes. Matter of fact I wish I could be doing this with anyone else.” you tell him, not regretting your big fat lie, not even one bit.
He scoffs, probably catching the make-pretend vitriol in your tone, and he stands up once again to his full height. He tilts his head to the side and his hand comes up to your throat, not quite squeezing just holding you firmly in place.
“Don’t lie to me,” his eyes drop to your lips as he speaks. “You know you don’t hate me, you’re not even credible. Look at you, can’t even keep me away—”
You slap him.
Yeah, that’ll teach the bastard to doubt your hatred. If he wants to play it like that, he’ll have it. And Jungwon must secretly like it because as his face bounces back and your hand paints his cheek red, his breath hitches. He stays still for a moment, as if trying to figure out what to do next, and then decides youre gonna have to be taught a lesson. He’s quick to grab your wrist, looking down at you like you’re worse than a piece of gum under his shoe, and he tugs you closer.
“Don’t fucking do that.” Jungwon’s jaw clenches so tight you’d be scared it’ll break—if only you cared.
“Stop being so cocky then. You just have to ruin everything by talking, just stay quiet dammit.” you snap, wrenching your wrist free from his grasp.
There’s a long silence. Maybe one or two minutes—possibly three, during which all you do is stare at each other like idiots. Or at least that’s what it looks like from the outside, two dumbasses devouring each other with their eyes while their mouths spew the worst of insults. No one speaks and that’s very convenient because you’re not sure you could handle another one of his little jabs, your violent nature would already have him pinned on the wall like a flyer to a bulletin board.
Jungwon’s gaze drops to your lips, those tempting wet lips that seem to bewitch them beyond words. He’s still angry—poor boy—he’s always angry, jaw tight n clenched, eyebrows furrowed, breath gradually hitching every single time you shift. It’s like he’s a machine designed for this. And it’s like you get off on seeing that machine activated, if we’re being honest.
“Ah, fuck you.”
That’s all Yang Jungwon says before he wraps his hand around your neck again and pulls you firmly toward him, lips slamming against yours.
And dammit if it’s not the most exhilarating thing you’ve ever felt.
He tastes sweet, despite being the bitterest of men, his lips are soft and his tongue is careful with its exploration. It’s like eating frosting straight from the tub, spoon and all. It’s gross, you’ll probably have the worst of bellyaches, but oh, you’re enjoying each second of it.
It takes Jungwon seconds to push you onto the bed and climb on top of you. His hands bracket your head, tongue continuing its ruin as his body grounds into yours. At the first shift of his hips, you feel a moan right at the base of your throat, so you bite his lip in hopes it won’t come out.
Jungwon, though, is not at all ashamed. He lets out a low groan at the bite, chest mashed against your half bare one.
It’s with hooded eyes that he breaks the kiss, fingers catching on the straps of your bra. For a man who hates you so much, he’s so tender, taking your hands in his and guiding them to your chest. “Take it off,” he says.
You don’t question it, you reach for the clasp with agonizing slowness, looking up at him all the time, and when it’s unclasped you let the straps fall on your arms. It hangs loose, straps sliding down your arms, and Jungwon’s eyes darken as he watches the reveal.
It’s so insulting because he never thought he would ever enjoy this, but the sight of you also feels like a victory. Actually, he doesn’t even know, he’s so out of his mind entranced that his thoughts are blurry. He just stares like an idiot, breathing harder through his nose.
“Hurry up,” he mutters, feigning nonchalance even though he’s harder than rock, “You’re taking forever on purpose.”
You shrug one shoulder, letting the left cup drop first, the air hits your skin and your nipples tighten almost immediately. Jungwon’s gaze drops straight to them and his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek, he can’t wait any longer.
“There,” you say, still holding the other side up with one hand just to be difficult. “Happy?”
He leans down and bites the soft underside of your breast hard enough to make you jolt, then he closes his mouth over the nipple and sucks while his hand finally knocks the rest of the bra away. The fabric hits the floor somewhere behind him, you’re pretty sure he couldn’t give less of a fuck about being neat when his worst nightmare is lying half bare under him. And he’s enjoying it.
You arch without meaning to, just a bodily response or whatever the hell sounds convincing to your incapacitated brain. Your fingers find his hair and twist, not particularly shy with the way you pull at his scalp. Jungwon groans against your skin and bites again, meaner this time, before dragging his tongue over the mark.
He likes it, you note, he likes when you’re violent. Makes the rule-breaking justified, like if maybe you keep being mean all through it, then it’s not really sex, right? It’s just hatred but in another form?
“Still pretending you don’t want this?” he asks against your chest, lips shiny and red. “Look at you, already shaking.”
“Shut up and take your shirt off,” you snap, yanking at the hem. “Or are you just gonna keep talking like always? I’m not here to have a chat with you if I wanted to do that I’d just—”
“Shut up,” he whispers, his hand coming up to your mouth for a brief second. You want to slap it off, but all that happens is you feel your thighs squeeze together.
Jungwon sits up just enough to pull the shirt over his head in one motion, it lands somewhere near your bra but neither of you pa any mind to it. His chest is flushed, abs tight, and there’s this faint red mark on his cheek where you slapped him earlier. You love it.
He comes back down immediately, mouth crashing into yours, this kiss is messier than the last ones, mouths open, wet, all tongue and teeth. and absolutely no restraint. You bite his lower lip hard enough to taste copper and he answers by shoving his tongue deeper, grinding his hips down so you feel exactly how hard he is through his jeans.
“Fuck—” the word breaks against his mouth when he rolls his hips again. Your shorts are still on, soaked through, and every shift of his thigh drags the fabric against you in a way that makes your stomach clench.
Jungwon pulls back just far enough to speak, breath hot against your lips. “You’re dripping through your clothes. Disgusting.” His hand slides down, cups you over the shorts, and presses. “And you still won’t admit it.”
You buck into his palm anyway, not in the mood to argue with him over whether you’re wanting this desperately or not. The cocky bastard laughs once then hooks his fingers into the waistband and yanks, the shorts and panties coming down together in one tug. You kick them the rest of the way off while he watches, eyes heavy-lidded, mouth still wet from kissing you.
He doesn’t give you time to feel exposed because in seconds he’s already between your legs again, one hand pinning your wrist above your head, the other pushing your thigh open wider. His mouth finds yours once more, so sloppy, almost like a punishment. You kiss him back just as hard, biting, sucking on his tongue. You know it’s only going to happen one unfortunate time so it’s best if you just make it as filthy as you can.
Jungwon doesn’t give you much time to catch your breath though. He’s already shifting, sitting back on his heels between your spread thighs, looking down at the mess he left on you like it’s personal. It is personal, feels like he’s pouring every ounce of hatred into this. He reaches for the waistband of his jeans and shoves them off, kicking them to the floor without looking away from you.
“Your turn,” he says, in a low voice. “Finish it.”
You blink, “Finish what?”
He nods toward his boxer briefs—the only thing left on him. “Take em off.”
In a matter of seconds, you sit up slowly and reach for the waistband. Your fingers brush the sharp cut of his hips but he doesn’t help, he won’t. He just watches, jaw tight, as you drag the fabric down. The moment his cock springs free, hard and—if you’re being generous—so thick, you have to fight the urge to wrap your hand around it just to wipe that smug look off his face. You pull the briefs down his legs and toss them aside.
Jungwon catches your wrist before you can pull away, he guides your hand to his chest instead, then lower, making you feel every tense muscle as he leans in and kisses you—slow, deep, tongue sliding against yours like he’s in no rush. When he pulls back, his mouth is wet,
“Spread your legs”
You do, because the alternative is arguing and you’re already aching. There’s no escaping this anyway, both your bodies want it—a shame really.
Jungwon braces himself over you, one knee pushing your thighs wider. When you feel the head of his cock dragging through the mess between your legs, your hips twitch without permission.
And the idiot doesn’t push in.
Instead he rolls his hips once, twice, letting the length of him slide against you, catching on your clit every time. The friction is so mean, it hurts. He watches your face the whole time, waiting to see your reactions, the slightest shift in your face that could tell him you’re enjoying this like he is.
“Still hate me?” he asks, almost conversational, while he keeps grinding.
“Yes,” you manage, but it comes out so shaky you almost cringe.
Jungwon hums like he doesn’t believe you. The next second, he reaches down, wraps a hand around himself, and notches the tip right against your entrance. The pressure is there—warm, and so sickening—but he still doesn’t move. He just holds it there, circling slowly, coating himself in everything he brought out of you.
Your breath stutters as your hands find his shoulders and dig in. “Jungwon—”
“What?” He leans down until his mouth brushes yours. “You want something?”
You hate him, him and his smug tone. You turn your face away, trying not to slap him again and he follows, catching your lower lip between his teeth and biting just hard enough to sting before soothing it with his tongue. All the while that thick head stays pressed against you, rocking just the tiniest bit, never quite pushing in.
“Say it,” he murmurs against your mouth. “Tell me you want it and I’ll give it to you.”
“Fuck you.”
He breathes out a chuckle and pulls back until the contact disappears. The sudden absence makes your hips chase him before you can stop yourself, it hurts and your whole body is probably trembling. Jungwon notices, he always notices the things that are convenient and useful to him. So he settles lower again, dragging the head through your folds, up over your clit, then back down to press against your entrance without entering.
“Look at you,” he taunts. “Trying so hard to stay quiet. You’re shaking.”
You are. Let’s be honest. Your thighs keep trying to close around his hips and he keeps pushing them open with one hand, the other braced beside your head. He leans in for another kiss while he keeps that same cruel rhythm. Almost. Almost. Never quite.
Every time you lift your hips he pulls away. Every single time you try to grind down he stills completely. The frustration builds until you’re biting his lip harder than before, until the sounds you’re trying to swallow keep escaping anyway.
“Just put it in,” you snap finally, voice cracking.
You can see the smile in Jungwon’s eyes before it goes to his mouth. He notchs himself against you again and the pressure is enough to make you lose it.
“Not good enough.” He rocks forward the smallest amount—just the tip slipping inside for like, half a second—then pulls out completely. You make a broken noise you hate but be kisses it off your mouth. “Try again.”
“I hate you,” you grit out, nails dragging down his back. “I hate you so fucking much.”
“I know.” He does it again—presses in just enough for you to feel the stretch, then withdraws before you can take more. “But you still want it. Say it.”
Your head tips back against the pillow. He’s everywhere—mouth on your neck now, biting, sucking, doing absolutely everything but indulging. What the fuck is his problem anyway?
“Jungwon—” you start, but he doesn’t let you finish, of course.
“Say you want me to fuck you.” His voice is strained, like the restraint is costing him too. “Or I stop.”
He proves it by pulling away entirely this time, sitting back on his heels, cock flushed and shiny between his legs. The air hits you where he was just pressed and you hate how empty it feels.
You glare at him, chest heaving and he just waits, one hand loosely around himself, stroking once, twice, eyes never leaving yours. He’s punishing you, isn’t he? Probably making things even for all the times you slapped him or spoke cruel words.
Your body aches. The defiant part of you wants to tell him to get out, but the rest of you is already reaching for him.
“Fine,” you force out, completely surrendering. “I want it.”
Jungwon’s mouth curves, but yeah, he doesn’t move just yet. Enough’s never enough for that greedy asshole.
“Want what?” he pushes.
You swallow hard. “I want you to fuck me.”
Yep, that does it. He leans back over you immediately, one hand finding your throat again, the other guiding himself back to where you’re soaked and waiting. Best believe this time he doesn’t tease. He pushes in slow—oh so slow—until he’s buried to the hilt, so snug where he resides, both of you breathing hard against each other’s mouths.
“Good girl,” he mutters, and then he’s kissing you again while his hips finally start to move.
It’s nothing shy of harsh. He gives these hard thrusts that shove you up the bed a little every time. His hand’s still on your throat, thumb pressing just under your jaw so you have to look at him while he fucks you.
“Am I still the worst guy you know?” he asks, voice already rough, hips snapping. You can feel how hard he is, so thick and throbbing so much inside you, like he’s been holding back for ages.
“Yes,” you bite out, nails digging into his shoulders. “God, yes—”
He laughs under his breath and leans down to kiss you messy, “Liar. You’re squeezing me so fucking tight.” he gives another hard thrust. “Feel that? That’s how hard you make me. Even when you’re being a pain in my ass.”
He is indeed as hard as rock. You don’t even know how it’s possible that it doesn’t hurt, maybe your pussy was ironically made for him or something. But it doesn’t hurt in the slightest, you feel how much he’s stretching you and still find pleasure in it.
When you try to turn your face away he follows, biting your lower lip until you open for him again. It’s so desperate. He’s breathing harder against your mouth, like he can’t quite hide how much this is getting to him either.
“Fuck..Jungwon—”
“Yeah?” He slows just enough to grind deep, rolling his hips so you feel every single inch. “Talk to me. Tell me how much you hate this.”
“I do,” you gasp when he starts pounding again. “I hate you. Hate how good it feels—”
“Good.” His voice cracks a little on the word.
You hate him even more when he pulls out suddenly and you make an embarrassing sound at the loss. Before you can complain he’s already grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your stomach. “On your knees.” he orders.
You push up on shaky arms but he doesn’t even wait. One of his hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back while the other guides his cock right back home, he sinks in hard from behind, the angle making you drop onto your elbows with a moan.
“Shit,” Jungwon mutters, hips slamming forward. “You’re even tighter like this. Still pretending you don’t want this? look at you, taking it sooo well.”
You try to throw something mean back at him, keep your pride but it just comes out as a whimper when he yanks your hair harder, forcing your back to arch. He’s so deep it almost hurts now, but you can’t bring yourself to actually be hurt. You’re pretty sure your brain it metamorphosing it to mess with you. Him on the other hand, he’s barely holding it together even while he talks shit.
You hate how good it feels, hate the sounds leaving your mouth, hate the way your body keeps pushing back to meet every thrust.
“There you go,” Jungwon breathes against your ear, still pounding into you. “Chasing it. So fucking honest when you’re full of me.”
Then before you even know, he’s pushing you flat onto your stomach, covering you completely with his weight, one hand stays buried in your hair, the other braces beside your head as he spreads your legs wider with his knees. The new angle is insane—so much deeper than before, every thrust dragging against that sickening spot.
“Oh fuck fuck-” you can’t quite contain your moans.
Jungwon bites the back of your neck hard while he keeps driving into you. “Come on. Give it to me.”
You’re so close. It’s building too fast, too intense, way too much you can’t even think straight. He’s practically in your guts now, you’re sure. He’s used to being so full of himself and now you’re the one that’s full of him. And dare you say, you don’t particularly hate it.
“Fucking hate that you feel so good,” he groans again, almost pleading now.
It hits you like a wave—stronger than anything you’ve felt before, which is a fact you wish you could erase from your mind. Your whole body locks up, a broken cry muffled into the sheets as you come harder than you ever have in your life. Even while you hate him. Fuck that, especially while you hate him. Your walls clamp down around him so tight he groans like he’s been punched. He seems to enjoy it as much as you are, and it somehow comforts you.
“Fuck—yes—” Jungwon’s rhythm stutters. He’s still fucking you through it, chasing his own high, face buried against the back of your neck, you can feel juts how close he is—cock swelling even thicker inside you, thrusts turning short and so needy.
He starts to pull out at the last second but your hand shoots back, grabbing his hip and yanking him flush against you again.
“Don’t,” you pant. “I’m on the pill. Just—stay.”
You don’t even know what possesses you to say that, it’s maybe a self destructive instinct, or whatever the heck justifies a girl being so dumb. But you need to feel him inside.
Jungwon freezes for half a second, breathing hard against your nape and with no questions asked he sinks back in to the hilt. He makes one with you, pounding you as deep as he can. You feel the air struggle to come out your lungs as his hand wraps around your throat from behind anew, his eyebrows pinching together. He’s so close, his cock throbs inside you and the second he buries his head in your hair to muffle his sounds, you know he’s about to loose it.
Jungwon’s teeth dig into your neck, he grips and holds anywhere he can get his hands on, pulsing deep inside you.
“Fuck…fuckfuckfuck,” he curses, hips slapping against your ass.
Although he most definitely still hates your guts, he still holds you through it, coming deep inside until it drips from the sides of his cock and onto the bed. It’s messy, good thing you like it messy. Jungwon continues grinding his hips, drawing circles with them to fuck his cum right back inside. He’s panting by now, eyes shut with how much pleasure he’s feeling. It’s almost insane how the girl he hates so much can bring him so much ecstasy.
He’s still so hard even after coming, still buried deep, still holding you down like he doesn’t want to let go yet. You wonder how it’s possible that he’s this hard still, is he gonna wanna go again?
It’s not like you’re 100% opposed to the idea.
“Hate you,” you mumble into the sheets, voice barely there, hoping it’ll make your legs stop shaking and your walls stop clenching with aftershocks.
Jungwon huffs an exhausted laugh against your skin and presses a messy kiss to the bite mark he left. “Yeah,” he mutters, hips giving one last slow grind. “Hate you too.”
After two years studying law and psychology in London, Y/n returned to her hometown to find her younger brother Niki utterly convinced he had “mentally matured.” He bragged nonstop about his new older friends—Heeseung, Jay, and Jake—claiming they were her age and treated him as a true equal. To Y/n, though, he was still the same dopey, scruffy, sweet little brother she’d always known. She simply nodded along, humoring his delusions, unaware that these friends he spoke of so often would soon step out of his stories and change everything…
Brothers best friend!Lee Heeseung + Park Jay + Sim Jake x fem!reader
MDNI
Word count- I honestly don’t know… probably like 15-25k😭😭
Genre- Fluff, Angst, smut.
Warning- HEAVY tension, manipulation?, kissing, heavy make out, fingering, teasing, overstimulation, begging.
Inspired by - ‘BEST FRIENDS’ by @sangbubble , ‘RENT FREE’ by @swiftjay23
Playlist linked below-
(It’s a mixture of everything!!! So if your not a fan of that just listen ur playlist, or preferred songs, also it a random order so I’d prefer of you shuffle play it!!)
Two weeks had passed since you moved back home, and life in the old family house was finally settling into a comfortable rhythm. With your parents busy running their business and constantly away on trips, the place felt quiet and spacious—just the two of you for the whole summer. Neither of you could really be called kids anymore; you were twenty-one, fresh from two years of studying law and psychology in London, and Niki was nineteen, brimming with the newfound confidence he never tired of showing off.
Dinner that evening was simple but satisfying: steaming bowls of ramyeon, topped with leftover chicken from the night before. The air was warm, and for a while, the only sound was the clink of chopsticks—until Niki’s phone began to buzz again. And again. The screen lit up relentlessly, vibrating against the wooden table as message after message poured in from his beloved group chat.
You bit your lip, trying to focus on your food, but the constant hums and chimes grated on your nerves. Just as you took another bite, another sharp notification tone cut through the air—and that was the last straw.
“Can’t you just put your phone on silent!” you snapped, setting your chopsticks down with a sharp clink, frustration bubbling over.
Niki barely flinched, glancing briefly at the screen before shrugging casually. “Sorry—it’s the guys. They keep messaging about dinner tomorrow.”
“Dinner tomorrow?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, I’m going to see them tomorrow evening,” he said with a nod, shoving another mouthful of noodles.
You watched him for a moment, letting out a noncommittal hum. “Hm. Okay,” you said finally, shrugging it off and returning to your meal.
Suddenly, Niki straightened up in his seat, eyes lighting up like he’d just had the most brilliant idea in the world. “Oh my god!”
You groaned before he could even finish. “Oh god, what?”
“This is perfect!” he beamed, leaning right across the table toward you. “You can come with me tomorrow!”
Your face fell completely. “What—no! No way,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “I’m not meeting your friends Niki, they’re your friends for a reason.”
“These guys are different! You’d like them! They’re from the other side of town and you’d get along with them!” Niki ranted, his voice bright with excitement.
You groaned again, rolling your eyes. “Why? Because they’re my age?” you scoffed.
You stood before the full-length mirror, turning slowly to take in every detail of your reflection. You’d opted for a look that felt effortlessly casual yet deliberately polished: a fitted black off-the-shoulder top, accented with a delicate gold detail on one shoulder that caught the light just right. It sat tucked neatly into dark-wash jeans—cut just loose enough to feel relaxed, but tailored enough to flatter—cuffed slightly over sleek black heeled boots. Your makeup was soft and warm, enhancing your features without feeling heavy, and your long brown hair fell in loose, bouncy curls that framed your face perfectly.
You caught yourself lingering a little longer than usual, smoothing down the fabric of your top. Who knows, a tiny, traitorous voice whispered in the back of your mind, maybe Niki’s friends will actually be cute. The thought had barely settled before you cringed, shaking your head to clear it. Gross. They were Niki’s friends. That automatically disqualified them—there was no way they’d be anything worth looking twice at.
“Y/n! Hurry up! The reservation is for 7:30 and it’s already 7:06!” Niki’s voice echoed sharply from the bottom of the stairs, thick with impatience.
“Niki, calm down! The restaurant’s only twenty minutes away!” you scoffed back, leaning in to swipe a layer of glossy lip across your lips, tossing the tube into your bag. You finished with a spritz of warm vanilla perfume, the scent wrapping around you like a soft veil, before heading down the stairs.
“I’m driving,” you announced firmly, snatching the car keys right out of his hand before he could protest. Niki’s face twisted into a deep frown, but you ignored him, already heading for the door.
You pulled up to the restaurant and stepped through the front entrance.
And that’s when you saw them.
Three men sat at a table across the dining room, and the moment their eyes landed on Niki, their faces lit up with genuine warmth. You felt your breath hitch in your throat. Someone pinch me right now, you thought, your mind reeling. There was absolutely no way these breathtaking people were friends with your brother.
You walked toward them, and you found yourself slowing, rooted to the spot as you took in the three striking figures waiting for you.
“Y/n, these are the guys,” Niki said, nudging you gently, breaking you out of your stunned trance. You blinked, refocusing, and met the gaze of the three of them, forcing a soft, polite smile to your face.
“Hey… uh, nice to meet you all. I’m Y/n,” you said, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest.
“Y/n, this is Heeseung”
Your eyes locked with his, and your heart gave a strange, heavy thud. He was stunning—tall, with expressive round eyes, a perfectly straight nose, and a graceful line to his neck that caught your attention instantly. A playful, charming smile tugged at his lips, and you felt your own smile soften instinctively in response.
“This is Jay.”
You shifted your gaze. He was slightly shorter than Heeseung but still tall and commanding. His smile revealed deep dimples that softened his sharp, defined jawline, and his skin glowed with a rich, warm honey tone that looked almost luminous under the restaurant lights. You offered a quiet nod, trying to keep your composure.
“And this is Jake.”
Finally, you looked at him. He stood about the same height as Jay, but with a paler, porcelain complexion that gave him an almost ethereal look—like something out of a fairytale. Thick, dark hair fell in soft waves just above his eyebrows, framing a face with a sharp, elegant nose and lips that looked perfectly shaped. He truly looked like a prince.
You glanced over at Niki, slightly dazed, before turning your attention back to the three of them. “It’s really nice to meet you all. Niki has told me quite a bit about you,” you said, your voice regaining its warmth.
You moved to take your seats. You settled in between Jake and Niki, feeling the space open up comfortably. Across from you sat Heeseung, his gaze steady and unmissable, while Jay sat directly opposite Niki, the candles on the table casting a cozy glow over everyone’s faces.
“So Y/n, we heard you study law and psychology,” Jay speaks up, a warm smile pulling at his lips that shows off his dimples.
“Yeah, I’m starting my third year now. Gonna do my last two years back here, but I was in London before,” you reply, meeting his eyes with a nod.
“London?” Heeseung’s eyes light up instantly, and you glance over at him.
“Mm-hmm,” you hum.
“London’s literally my dream city,” he grins. “I really wanna perform there someday.”
You can’t help but smile back. “Perform?” you ask, tilting your head, curious to hear more.
“We’re all music majors,” Jake chimes in softly. You turn to look at him—this boy who looks like a prince—and notice he’s staring down at his hands, fingers fidgeting slightly in his lap. Wait, is he nervous? you wonder.
“They’re the guys who helped me out so much in music workshops during my freshman year,” Niki pipes up proudly. “Back when you were still in London.”
Your face lights up. “Oh, That’s so cool,” you say, softly smiling at the three of them.
You rest your elbows lightly on the table, sweep a handful of hair behind your shoulder, and let your fingers drift down to play with the pendant of your necklace while glancing at the menu.
Niki, Jake, and Jay start debating whether the spicy stir-fry noodles are better than the kimchi fried rice with chicken, but you can barely focus. Your heart’s still pounding—you can’t believe three guys this good-looking are sitting right here with you. Especially Heeseung across the table; you keep catching yourself staring. And to him? You look absolutely stunning—your soft features, your smile, your eyes, your hair… he can’t seem to get enough.
“So, how come we never met before?” Heeseung asks out of the blue.
Your eyes snap up from the menu to meet his, and your heart practically skips a beat. “I… uh, I was in London,” you manage to get out.
“Yeah, I get that,” he chuckles lowly. “But I’m pretty sure you came back for holidays and stuff over these two years.”
Damn, that chuckle does something to you—it’s hot. “Oh… yeah, I did,” you nod.
“So how come our paths never crossed?” His question hangs in the air. How am I supposed to tell him I just thought Niki was bragging about having older friends?
“Well… Niki always told me you guys were super busy,” you shrug.
“Hmm, I see,” Heeseung hums thoughtfully. You look back down at your menu.
The rest of the dinner flows easily enough. Jay and Jake ask you loads of questions about your studies and what London was like, keeping the conversation light and friendly. Heeseung stays quieter, but his presence is impossible to ignore—every so often he’ll chime in with a comment or a question, his voice low and steady, and you’ll feel the weight of his attention on you like something tangible. You catch all three of them looking at you more than they probably should, glances that linger a little too long to be just polite, but you try your best to brush it off, nodding along as Niki rambles enthusiastically about how your homemade ramyeon is basically a work of art. But beneath all the casual chatting and laughter, there’s a thick, quiet hum of tension in the air—moments that stretch out slow and heavy, completely unseen by your brother sitting right there in the middle of it all.
And it happened with each other the three boys…
Heeseung
Niki is leaning across the table, caught up in a lively debate with Jay, his voice rising to fill the space. Without meaning to, Heeseung leans forward too, resting his forearm along the edge of the table, and his hand settles just inches away from yours. It’s such a casual, thoughtless placement, but the proximity feels electric. You can feel the warmth radiating off his skin, see the way his fingers rest loosely, as if he might reach out but hasn’t quite decided yet. You lift your gaze slowly, and find him already looking at you, his dark eyes swimming in the dim light. There’s no movement, no words—just this accidental closeness that feels far too intentional. He holds your stare, his expression calm but charged, and you feel your breath hitch, the silence between you stretching out until it feels like the whole world has narrowed down to just this: his hand so close to yours, and his eyes refusing to let you go.
Jake
You lean back slightly in your chair, turning your head just enough to catch your breath from the conversation, and your shoulder brushes lightly against Jake’s. It’s a fleeting, innocent collision, the kind that happens all the time in crowded restaurants—but neither of you shifts away. You stay exactly where you are, your sides pressed together from elbow to shoulder, sharing the same space, the same air. From the corner of your eye, you notice his breathing has deepened, just a fraction, and his gaze has dropped to the table, though his posture remains perfectly still. It feels like a secret kept in the quiet contact, a warmth that seeps into your bones and makes your pulse flutter wildly. You don’t dare move, afraid to break the spell, afraid he’ll realize how much this accidental closeness affects you. It’s heavy, silent, and incredibly intimate, hidden right in plain sight.
Jay
The overhead light catches the rim of your water glass, making it slip slightly as you reach for it. Before it can tip, Jay’s hand instinctively moves to steady the base, his fingers grazing yours for a split second longer than necessary. He pulls back almost immediately, turning his attention back to Niki as if nothing happened, but the sensation lingers—warm, fleeting, and undeniably real. You lift your eyes to his, and for a brief moment, his calm expression softens, his gaze lingering on your face with a quiet intensity that makes your stomach flip. It was just a reflex, a polite reaction, but the way he looked at you afterward turned it into something else entirely—a spark that no one else noticed, a heavy, suspended beat in time that only the two of you felt.
Sleep refused to come. You tossed and turned restlessly beneath the sheets, your mind replaying the evening over and over again—their faces, the quiet tension lingering between you, the way they seemed to occupy every corner of your thoughts. They were so beautiful, you admitted to yourself, a truth that made your pulse flutter all over again. Frustrated by your own restlessness, you let out a heavy huff, grabbed your phone from the nightstand, and unlocked the screen.
Surely they have accounts, you reasoned, curiosity getting the better of you. You navigated to your brother’s profile and tapped into his following list, scanning the names until three handles caught your eye, lighting up the dark screen:
@h.evan.lee
@jakeysim2
@park2jay
A small rush of excitement hit you—even better, their profiles were public.
You hesitated for only a second before tapping on Jake’s page first. Your eyes widened as his feed loaded. He posted often, and every photo felt like a glimpse into his world: candid shots where he looked almost unreal, his features soft yet striking; endless adorable snapshots of his dog, Layla; and quiet moments captured in recording studios. You found yourself biting down gently on your lower lip, completely mesmerized. Fuck… you breathed silently. He wasn’t just handsome—he was magnetic, and you knew deep down you were enjoying this far more than you probably should.
@jakeysim2
Next, you moved to Jay’s profile. “Holy shit…” you gasped quietly under your breath, heat rising to your cheeks. His feed was filled with gym photos, confident and sharp—he definitely knew exactly how good-looking he was. Your heart hammered against your ribs as you scrolled further, discovering more than just strength: warm selfies with his family, clips of him lost in the rhythm while playing his guitar, proving he was as talented as he was attractive. It felt like peeling back layers, and you couldn’t look away.
@park2jay
Finally, you tapped on Heeseung’s account, and your breath hitched all over again. There were group shots from parties and gatherings, him laughing easily with friends, but the solo photos stopped you cold—him in the dim light of a studio, or sitting relaxed behind the wheel of his car. Unconsciously, you pressed your thighs together, the sight of him making your head spin. He was breathtaking—that knowing, confident smirk, the depth in his eyes that seemed to look right through you. But it was his voice that truly unraveled you; he shared so many vocal covers—House of Cards by BTS, King of the Fall by The Weeknd—rich, smooth, tender, and steeped in that aching, yearning quality that settled deep in your chest.
@h.evan.lee
Your breathing grew heavier, your chest rising and falling rapidly as the thrill became almost overwhelming. It felt like too much—too many feelings, too much wanting all at once. Panicked by how consumed you felt, you tossed your phone across the bed, letting it land somewhere near the wall, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to force yourself to settle. But it was useless. Even in the dark, with the silence wrapping around you, the faces of the three of them lingered vividly in your mind, refusing to fade away.
Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, but it did little to clear the heavy, restless haze lingering in your mind. You woke with a start, your heart thrumming with the faint, tangled echoes of dreams—dreams filled with deep voices, lingering glances, and a warmth that felt far too vivid to be just your imagination. Blinking up at the ceiling, you let out a long, muffled groan into your pillow as the memories of last night came rushing back: scrolling endlessly through their profiles, the way your skin prickled at every photo, the rich, yearning sound of Heeseung’s voice looping in your head until sleep finally claimed you. Heat crawled up your neck just thinking about it; you felt exposed, as if they could somehow see every time you bit your lip or held your breath while looking at a screen.
Downstairs, the sharp scent of toast and freshly brewed coffee drifted through the hallway. Niki was already perched at the kitchen island, shoveling food into his mouth, eyes glued to his phone screen, completely oblivious to the quiet storm his three friends had stirred up inside you.
“Morning,” he mumbled, barely glancing up.
“Morning,” you replied, your voice coming out a little tighter than usual. You poured yourself a cup of coffee, gripping the warm mug tightly, trying to ground yourself. Every time you looked at Niki now, you didn’t just see your brother—you saw the faces standing behind him in your mind: Heeseung’s knowing smirk, Jay’s confident warmth, Jake’s soft, burning gaze.
Ten minutes hadn’t passed before Niki’s phone buzzed loudly against the countertop. He picked it up, scanned the text, and a wide, eager grin spread across his face—the kind that usually spelled trouble, or exactly what you were terrified you secretly wanted.
“Hey,” he said, looking up at you with bright, expectant eyes. “The guys are free this afternoon. They asked if I wanted to hit the arcade downtown—the big one with the rooftop café?”
You froze, the mug halfway to your lips. The arcade? Now? Your pulse spiked instantly, a familiar, dizzying heat rushing to your cheeks. “Oh… that’s nice,” you managed, keeping your tone deliberately flat. “Have fun.”
Niki’s grin widened into something distinctly teasing. “Actually… I may have mentioned you’d probably be around. They specifically asked if you’d come too.”
Your breath hitched in your throat. “They did?”
“Yep,” he shrugged casually, but his eyes were dancing. “Said they thought you’d be fun to hang with. C’mon, it’s way more crowded with just us guys. Please?”
You hesitated, your mind racing a mile a minute. A part of you screamed run, warning you that spending more time in their orbit—especially after the obsessive way you’d stalked their social media last night—was a recipe for disaster. But the other part, the part that remembered the electric charge of their presence at dinner, the way Heeseung looked right through you, the quiet intensity of Jake, and Jay’s steady pull… that part was already grabbing your bag and checking your reflection.
“Fine,” you sighed, rolling your eyes as if it were a burden, while your insides hummed with nervous, electric energy. “But if you ditch me to play games by yourself, I’m out of there.”
By the time you arrived, the afternoon sun hung high, casting a hazy golden glow over the bustling entrance. Stepping inside, the air filled instantly with the bright chiming of machines, flashing neon lights, and the low murmur of crowds. But you barely noticed any of it—your eyes scanned the room frantically until they locked onto them.
They were leaning against the railing near the racing simulators, standing out effortlessly even in the throng of people. Jay was laughing at something Heeseung had said, posture relaxed but commanding, while Jake stood slightly apart, his gaze sweeping the room until it landed squarely on you. The shift in him was instant—his features softened, a faint pink flush rising on his cheeks as he nudged the others gently.
Heeseung turned first. His eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that felt physical, dragging the breath from your lungs. That familiar, lazy smirk played on his lips, slow and deliberate, as if he could read exactly how much time you’d spent thinking about him last night. Jay turned next, his dimples appearing in a warm smile that didn’t quite mask the sharp, focused interest in his gaze.
“Hey, you made it,” Niki chirped, bouncing ahead of you into their circle.
“Hey,” you echoed, your voice softer than intended as you came to a stop before them, suddenly hyper-aware of every inch of space between you.
“Glad you could join us,” Jay said, his voice smooth and deep. He looked effortlessly striking in a fitted tee that showed off the strength you’d seen on his feed, and the scent of his clean, warm cologne drifted over you.
“Was starting to wonder if you’d change your mind,” Heeseung added, stepping slightly closer, invading your space just enough to make your pulse hammer. His eyes searched yours, dark and amused. “We’ve been looking forward to it.”
You swallowed hard, refusing to let your knees buckle. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
Jake stepped forward then, his movement gentle but determined, breaking the invisible line Heeseung was drawing. “We were just about to start a round of air hockey,” he said softly, his eyes holding yours with a quiet, pleading intensity. “Wanna be on my team?”
The offer sounded sweet, almost innocent, but beneath it lay a heavy, unspoken current. You glanced between them—the quiet claim in Heeseung’s stance, the steady patience in Jay’s expression, the soft insistence in Jake’s gaze—and felt the air grow thin.
“Sure,” you nodded, your voice barely a whisper.
What unfolded over the next few hours wasn’t a fight—not in the loud, obvious sense. There were no raised voices, no harsh words, no shoving matches. Instead, it was a quiet, elegant war, fought in inches and glances, a silent tug-of-war that Niki seemed completely blind to. They moved around you like a carefully choreographed dance, each one subtly angling to be the one closest to you, gently outmaneuvering the others without ever acknowledging the game they were playing.
At the air hockey table, Jake stood close beside you, his shoulder pressed warmly to yours, creating a gentle barrier. He passed you the puck with soft, encouraging smiles, his attention entirely focused on your enjoyment, subtly blocking Heeseung from stepping fully into your line of sight. He didn’t confront them; he just occupied your space so completely there was barely room for anyone else.
Heeseung accepted the distance but compensated with sheer weight of presence. He leaned casually against the side of the machine, eyes never leaving your face, his smirk deepening whenever you laughed. He found the gaps Jake left—speaking just loud enough to catch your ear, offering a tip that required him to lean in close, his arm brushing past yours as if by accident. He didn’t push Jake away; he simply wove himself into your periphery, impossible to ignore, his gaze heavy and possessive whenever it flickered from you to the others.
Jay operated with a calm, seamless efficiency. When the group moved toward the racing simulators, he naturally fell into step right beside you, his hand hovering near your elbow or resting lightly on the small of your back—a grounding, guiding touch that felt entirely natural yet unmistakably claimed. He would smoothly intercept questions meant for the others, answer them, and redirect the conversation back to you, standing slightly behind your other shoulder to balance Jake’s proximity, ensuring his warmth radiated against your side while politely occupying the space where Heeseung might try to slip in.
It was maddeningly beautiful. If you turned your head, you caught Jay’s steady gaze. If you focused on the game, you felt Jake’s quiet support. If you drifted into thought, you felt Heeseung’s eyes burning into you. They offered you drinks at the same time—each smiling politely as they held out a cup. They walked on either side of you, matching your pace perfectly, never crowding but never letting a gap open wide enough for the other to gain ground.
The tension was thick, sweet, and suffocating. It lay in the way their smiles didn’t quite reach their eyes when looking at each other, in the slight pause before they spoke when someone else had your attention, in the way their bodies remained relaxed but their jaws set with quiet determination. They were letting you choose, letting you drift naturally toward whichever one felt right in the moment, but they were silently, relentlessly clearing the path, ensuring that no matter where you turned, you were enveloped in their world, completely unaware of how firmly they had already woven you into it.
By late afternoon, the bright, flickering lights and relentless noise of the arcade had blurred into a dull, throbbing hum behind your eyes. The excitement you’d felt earlier had long since evaporated, leaving behind a heavy, bone-deep weariness. It wasn’t just physical fatigue; it was the mental effort of navigating the crowd and keeping up appearances. All you craved was the quiet, dark sanctuary of your own room.
You drifted over to Niki, who was still planted firmly in front of a high-score game, fingers flying across the controls, completely oblivious to the world outside his screen.
“Hey,” you said, touching his arm gently, your voice low. “I’m wiped out. Can we head home now?”
Niki barely blinked, his eyes locked on the targets exploding on the display. “Already? C’mon, it’s just getting good! I haven’t even lined up for the new VR machine yet.”
“I know, but I’m really tired,” you insisted, fighting back a sigh. “My feet hurt, Nik.”
He finally paused, glancing sideways at you with a casual, unbothered shrug. “Look, I’m not done here. You can take the car if you want—just grab the keys from my bag.”
You shook your head, a sinking feeling settling in your chest. “I can’t. I didn’t bring my license with me.”
Niki didn’t even look up this time. “Oh, that sucks. And actually… the spare set is at home anyway, and I don’t want to risk losing the only one I have. Guess you’ll just have to hang around a bit longer then, yeah?” He turned back to his game, effectively dismissing you.
You stood there for a moment, defeated and stuck. You couldn’t drive, you couldn’t leave him stranded, and waiting hours for him to finish felt impossible in your current state.
Almost instantly, Heeseung seemed to sense the shift in you. He was standing just a step away, his attention drifting entirely to your slumped shoulders and weary expression.
“I can drive you,” a smooth, steady voice cut through the arcade noise.
You looked up to find Heeseung standing right beside you, hands tucked casually into his jacket pockets. His expression was calm on the surface, but there was a glint of something sharp and playful in his gaze—an amusement that felt just for him.
“It’s no trouble,” he reassured simply. “My car’s parked right out front. It’s about a forty-minute drive. I don’t mind at all.”
Before you could protest, he was already guiding you away, placing a hand lightly on the small of your back—a touch that felt polite but lingered just long enough to make your skin prickle. He led you through the crowd, shielding you from the noise, until the heavy doors swung shut behind you, leaving you in the cool, quiet air of the evening.
The interior of Heeseung’s car was dim, bathed in the soft, muted glow of the dashboard lights, smelling of crisp, subtle cologne and the rich, worn warmth of leather. As you sank into the passenger seat, the silence that settled around you felt heavy but not uncomfortable—charged, as if the air itself held its breath, aware of every small movement. The engine purred to life with a low, steady hum that seemed to vibrate through the soles of your feet, and soon the streetlights outside blurred into endless streaks of gold and silver rushing past the glass windows, wrapping the world outside in a soft haze.
“About forty minutes,” Heeseung murmured, his voice low and velvety, sounding deeper in the quiet confines of the car. He kept his attention mostly on the road ahead, his posture relaxed and confident, but his eyes would drift toward you every so often—glances that were slow, lingering, and quiet, catching the faint play of light across your face before returning to the dark stretch of highway. “You can rest if you’d like. No need to force conversation.”
You leaned your head back against the cool headrest, letting your eyelids fall shut for a moment, but sleep was the furthest thing from your mind. Every nerve ending felt heightened, alive to the smallest details—the sound of his steady breathing, the faint shift of his hands on the wheel, the way the air felt warmer on his side of the console. Your heart hammered a steady, noticeable rhythm against your ribs, loud enough that you wondered if he could hear it too.
After a stretch of quiet that felt both peaceful and electric, you saw him move in your peripheral vision. He slowly lifted his right hand from the gear stick, his motion unhurried and fluid, drifting across the narrow space of the center console until his warm, firm palm settled lightly but deliberately onto your knee. There was no pressure, no demand—just a steady, grounding weight, his thumb beginning to brush back and forth over the denim in faint, almost imperceptible strokes that felt far more intimate than they should.
Your breath hitched quietly in your throat, a reaction you couldn’t quite suppress. He didn’t turn to gloat or tease openly, but the corner of his mouth curved upward in a faint, knowing smile that played in the shadows. He kept his eyes forward, watching the road unwind, but the connection between you felt like a live wire—steady, warm, impossible to ignore.
“You seem… restless,” he observed softly, his tone gentle, almost conversational, though there was an undercurrent of quiet amusement in his voice. His thumb continued its slow, rhythmic motion, soft enough to soothe, heavy enough to make your skin prickle with heat. “Like you’re thinking too much.”
You turned your head slightly to look at him, taking in the sharp, clean line of his jaw, the way the passing light caught the curve of his lips. “Maybe I am,” you admitted, your voice coming out softer than you intended, but steady enough to show you weren’t shying away. “It’s hard not to, when it’s so quiet in here.”
Heeseung let out a low, quiet hum, a sound of satisfaction more than anything else. His hand shifted just a fraction, settling more comfortably, the warmth of his palm spreading further up your thigh. He didn’t push, didn’t crowd your space, but the silence between you grew denser, filled with all the things neither of you needed to say out loud.
“Quiet isn’t always a bad thing,” he murmured, leaning just barely closer, the faint, clean scent of him wrapping around you like a soft haze. His gaze drifted to you then, slow and deep, holding your eyes for a long, suspended moment—dark, intent, and brimming with a quiet confidence that made your chest feel tight. “It lets you notice things you might miss otherwise.”
You held his gaze for a beat longer, feeling a small, brave smile tug at your own lips. “Like what?” you asked, your tone light but curious, meeting his passive energy with your own quiet challenge.
The corner of his smile deepened, soft but undeniably pleased. He didn’t answer right away, just let his eyes linger on your face a moment more, tracing the line of your features as if committing them to memory, before turning his attention back to the road. But his hand remained exactly where it was—steady, warm, and undeniably present—his thumb moving in that slow, hypnotic rhythm, letting the thick, sweet tension stretch out between you, unspoken but perfectly understood.
“I think you already know,” he said simply, the words hanging in the dim light, soft and sure, as the miles slipped away beneath the wheels.
The miles blurred by outside, but your entire world had shrunk down to the point where his hand rested on your leg. The warmth of his palm seemed to seep through the denim, burning into your skin, anchoring you to him in a way that felt thrilling and terrifying all at once. His thumb continued its slow, sweeping motion—soft, rhythmic, deliberate—eroding your resolve little by little, even as your mind raced with warnings you couldn’t quite voice.
You told yourself to pull away, to shift your leg, to create some distance. He’s Niki’s friend, a voice screamed in the back of your head, sharp with guilt. He’s older, he’s part of his world, and you are crossing a line that shouldn’t be stepped over. But your body refused to listen, frozen in place, traitorously leaning into the contact, drinking in the quiet intimacy of being the sole focus of his attention.
Heeseung seemed to sense the war waging inside you. He didn’t push further, didn’t slide his hand higher or make a loud demand; he just kept it exactly where it was, solid and unyielding, grounding you in the moment.
“You’re thinking again,” he murmured, his voice barely rising above the hum of the engine. His eyes flickered to you, dark and heavy-lidded, seeing right through the conflict written across your face. “Your mind’s running a mile a minute… but your body isn’t moving away.”
A flush of heat crawled up your neck, settling hot and heavy in your cheeks. You turned your head to look out the window, unable to hold his gaze, the guilt twisting in your stomach sharp and bright. “I shouldn’t…” you whispered, the words trembling slightly on your tongue. “You’re Niki’s friend, Heeseung. This feels… wrong.”
Heeseung was quiet for a long moment, the silence stretching out thick and loaded. Then, slowly, he shifted his hand—not to pull away, but to slide it inward, resting closer to the center of your thigh, the contact deeper, more claiming.
“Niki doesn’t need to know everything,” he said softly, his tone smooth, laced with a low, magnetic pull that made your pulse spike despite yourself. “And what he doesn’t see… doesn’t hurt him.”
He leaned in just a fraction closer, the space between the seats shrinking until you could feel the heat radiating from his side, could smell the faint, intoxicating mix of his cologne and the leather.
“Does it feel wrong?” he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper that scraped against your nerves. His gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there for a heartbeat that felt like an eternity, before dragging back up to lock onto yours. “Or does it just feel forbidden?”
The distinction shattered you. You felt the wetness pool low in your stomach, a slick, hot ache that contradicted every ounce of guilt in your chest. Your breath hitched, your chest rising and falling faster, betraying exactly how much this affected you.
“It feels dangerous,” you breathed, your voice barely audible, the regret warring viciously with a deep, pulsing want you couldn’t suppress.
“Dangerous is what makes it feel alive,” Heeseung murmured. His thumb pressed harder against your leg, a firm, possessive stroke that sent a jolt straight through you. “Don’t overthink it. Just feel it.”
He settled back into his seat, eyes returning to the road, but the heavy, lingering weight of his presence remained, pressing against you, filling the car with a suffocating, sexual tension. You sat there, trembling slightly, hating yourself for how much you craved this—hating that you were letting Niki’s friend touch you like this, yet unable to will yourself to move away from the hand that was slowly unraveling you from the inside out.
The friction only seemed to fan the fire rather than put it out. You pressed your thighs together instinctively, seeking pressure, chasing some kind of relief for the deep, throbbing ache that had settled low in your hips—a heat that spread through your veins and made your skin feel too tight, too sensitive. The movement was subtle, almost involuntary, but in the heavy silence of the car, Heeseung caught it instantly.
He felt the shift against his hand, the way your muscles tensed and pressed closer, trapping his palm between your legs. A low, nearly imperceptible sound vibrated in his throat—half a hum, half a satisfied groan. He didn’t pull away; instead, his hand became heavier, anchoring itself firmly against you, denying you the space to hide just how much you were melting for him.
“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice rough and thick, stripped of its earlier lightness. “Trying to pretend you don’t want this, but your body is practically leaning into it.”
Guilt flickered faintly in the back of your mind—this is Niki’s friend—but it was nothing compared to the dizzying rush of need that drowned it out. You felt your cheeks burn, your breath coming in short, shaky puffs, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs. You did want this—wanted it desperately, more than you wanted to care about the rules or the boundaries. You craved the weight of his hand, the warmth of him, the way he looked at you like you were something he was already claiming.
“It feels…” you whispered, your voice trembling, barely audible over the hum of the engine, unable to bring yourself to say it was wrong.
Heeseung’s thumb slowed down, dragging agonizingly slow circles over the denim, pressing right against the sensitive spot where your thigh met your hip, sending electric sparks shooting straight to your core.
“Tell me,” he challenged softly, leaning in until his breath ghosted against your temple, his tone dark and knowing. “Tell me how it feels.”
You turned your head, your eyes locking onto his intense gaze, your own lids heavy with desire. “Like I don’t want you to stop.”
Your words hang in the air.
The tension finally snapped, quiet and inevitable.
Without either of you saying a word, Heeseung slowed the car, pulling off the main road into a quiet, dimly lit side street, the engine cutting out until all that remained was the sound of your ragged breathing and the distant hum of the city. The silence that followed was thick, charged, every second stretching out like an eternity.
He turned fully toward you in the dim light, his eyes dark and swimming with that heavy, undeniable pull, scanning your face as if he were memorizing every detail before making his move. Then, slowly, he leaned across the center console, closing the distance between you, his hand sliding from your knee to cup your jaw gently but firmly, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.
You didn’t pull away. You leaned into him, your heart hammering wildly against your ribs, every nerve ending screaming with anticipation. When his lips finally met yours, it wasn’t rushed or rough—it was deep, deliberate, and devastatingly thorough. The kiss felt like a release of all the tension that had been building for hours, warm and intoxicating, his mouth moving against yours with a slow, skilled rhythm that made your head spin and your knees weak.
A soft, shaky sigh escaped you, melting into the space between his lips. You tangled your fingers into the soft hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, desperate to feel every inch of him. He responded instantly, his hand sliding back to grip your waist, pulling you as far into his lap as the console would allow, his other hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, deepening the kiss until there was no air left between you.
You tasted the quiet hunger in him, the restrained passion that had been simmering beneath the surface all evening. It felt forbidden, a dangerous line being crossed, but the guilt was drowned out completely by the overwhelming, blazing need coursing through your veins. This was Heeseung—Niki’s friend, the one person you shouldn’t want—and yet you couldn’t get enough, chasing the heat of his touch, the soft sounds he made against your mouth, the way his fingers gripped you like he never wanted to let go.
His lips moved to your jawline, trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses down the sensitive curve of your neck, sending shivers racking through your entire body. You arched into him, a quiet gasp slipping from your throat, your hands roaming over his shoulders, his chest, feeling the steady, strong beat of his heart beneath your palm. The car felt small, suffocating in the most perfect way, filled with the sound of heavy breathing and the friction of bodies seeking more, completely lost in the haze of desire.
When he finally pulled back just an inch, his forehead resting lightly against yours, both of you were breathless, lips swollen and eyes dark with wanting. He looked at you with a gaze that felt like it saw everything, his thumb tracing the outline of your lower lip slowly, reverently.
“I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I saw you,” he whispered, his voice rough and quiet, vibrating through your bones.
Your heart pounds at his words, craving more of him. But the back of your mind there were two more craved. Jay and Jake.
The air in the car felt thin, scorched, every breath heavy and ragged as Heeseung rested his forehead against yours. But just beneath the blinding rush of his touch, beneath the heat flooding your veins, something else stirred—a messy, tangled thought that made your head spin even faster.
It’s not just him.
As Heeseung pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and hooded, you couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to have Jay’s steady hands holding you this way, or Jake’s soft, devoted mouth mapping your skin. The realization hit you like a physical blow—this hunger wasn’t singular. It was sprawling, messy, and greedy. You wanted the quiet intensity of all of them, and the guilt of that, mixed with the thrill, made your pulse skyrocket.
Heeseung seemed to sense the shift in your expression, the way your gaze drifted, unfocused, lost in thoughts you couldn’t voice. His jaw tightened, a sharp, possessive flash crossing his features, and the gentle restraint he’d held onto snapped completely.
“Don’t think about anything else,” he murmured, the words rough and commanding against your lips. “Not here. Not now.”
Before you could process it, he surged forward again, kissing you with a sudden, deep intensity that bordered on aggression. It was an attack, but one made of pure, unbridled hunger—he took your breath away, his mouth claiming yours with a fierce, thorough pressure that left no room for doubt, no space for your mind to wander to anyone else. His tongue swept in, hot and demanding, tasting every corner of you, as if he intended to erase the very thought of anyone else from your mind.
He gripped your jaw firmly, holding you exactly where he wanted, deepening the kiss until your head swam and your fingers dug desperately into his shoulders. It was overwhelming, suffocating in the best way—an assertion of dominance that screamed I am here, I am the one touching you, drowning out every lingering fantasy of Jay or Jake under the sheer weight of his passion.
He kissed you deeply, relentlessly, stealing the air from your lungs until you were clinging to him, melting into the seat, your body responding to his fire even as your mind reeled from the complexity of wanting them all. He wasn’t letting you go, wasn’t letting you drift—he was anchoring you to him, one devastating kiss at a time, demanding that you feel only him.
Heeseung pulled back slowly, his chest heaving, eyes still burning with that fierce, possessive intensity. He lingered for a moment, brushing his thumb over your swollen lips as if sealing the moment shut. Without a word, he shifted back into gear, the engine purring to life once more, and steered the car back onto the road.
The rest of the drive passed in a thick, charged silence. When he finally pulled up outside your house, the street was quiet and dark. He cut the engine, turning to look at you one last time, his gaze heavy and unreadable.
“Go inside,” he said softly, though his voice held a quiet command. “Get some rest.”
You nodded, your legs feeling weak as you stepped out onto the pavement. You didn’t look back, hurrying up the path and slipping through the front door, locking it behind you. Leaning against the wood, your heart was still racing, your lips still tingling, knowing nothing would ever be simple again—not with Niki, not with his friends, and certainly not with Heeseung.
A full week had dragged by since that night, and not a single second of it had felt even close to normal.
You’d been walking on eggshells ever since—putting on a gentle, easy smile whenever Niki was around, acting like nothing had changed, while your mind kept replaying every single moment on loop: Heeseung’s lips on yours, Jake’s shy kindness, Jay’s quiet focus on you. You’d barely spoken to any of them, keeping your distance and burying yourself in work, but pushing them away only made everything feel more tangled—guilt twisting tight in your chest, messy and heavy, making you short-tempered even when you didn’t mean to be.
You were in the kitchen that afternoon, carefully stacking plates away, when Niki leaned in the doorway, looking pleased.
“Forgot to tell you,” he said softly. “Their place got a bad leak. They’re crashing here tonight—all three of them. Said it’d be easier than finding a hotel last minute.”
You paused, fingers brushing the edge of a mug, and let out a quiet, shaky breath. “Niki… you can’t just decide that out of nowhere. Mom and Dad are away—they don’t know anything about this. They’d worry so much if they came home to find people staying over without telling them.”
He shrugged, looking a little sheepish now. “I know… but they’re my best friends. I couldn’t make them sleep somewhere uncomfortable.”
Your shoulders softened. You knew he meant well—he always did. “I know. I know you’re just looking out for them. But this isn’t simple, okay? There’s… things you don’t know about.” You rubbed your temple, voice quiet and earnest. “I just don’t want anyone getting hurt, or us getting in trouble when they get back.”
You wanted to say more—wanted to explain why this felt so much bigger than just friends staying over—but you couldn’t. So you just nodded slowly, and gave him a small, tired smile. “It’s fine. We’ll make it work. Just… warn me next time, please?”
He beamed and hurried off before you could say anything else.
When the front door opened a little while later, you gripped the counter tight, heart skipping. Their voices drifted in—Heeseung’s low laugh, Jay’s steady thanks, Jake’s soft “hi” that made your chest ache all over again. You stayed where you were, pressing your thighs together unconsciously, that familiar flutter mixing with fear and guilt.
They greeted you warmly, like always—but you noticed: Heeseung’s gaze lingered a little longer, like he knew you were struggling; Jay watched you gently, like he was checking you were okay; Jake gave you that shy, soft smile that made your heart twist. They acted like nothing had happened, like you weren’t standing there feeling so guilty and confused, while Niki chattered happily beside them—completely unaware of everything hanging in the air between you all.
You smiled back, soft and polite, even though every part of you felt stretched thin. You were so confused, so scared of what this meant… but you couldn’t bring yourself to be angry at any of them—not really.
You were just… so, so screwed.
You stepped out of the bathroom, still half dazed from brushing your teeth, and nearly collided with him. Heeseung was leaning against the wall right outside, arms crossed, eyes dark and fixed straight on you like he’d been waiting there all along.
Your breath hitched sharp, eyes blowing wide. “Hey,” he said, voice low and easy, like catching you off guard was the easiest thing in the world.
“Uhh—hi,” you stammered, gaze darting instantly to the floor, the wall, anywhere but his face.
“About last week—”
“It was a mistake,” you cut him off fast, finally forcing your chin up to meet his eyes, heart slamming hard enough to ache.
He tilted his head, a faint, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Was it?”
“I—I was drunk,” you fumbled, grasping at the flimsiest excuse you had.
One dark eyebrow lifted. “You said you don’t drink at dinner.” His tone was light, teasing, but there was heat beneath it, thick and unmissable.
You huffed out a shaky breath, shoulders slumping. “Look—I—” You groaned, voice dropping to a fragile whisper. “Just… can we not talk about it?”
He took a slow step closer, closing the little space between you, and leaned in until his lips brushed the shell of your ear. “Sure… princess,” he murmured, warm and rough all at once—then nipped gently at your earlobe, sharp and sudden, before pulling back and strolling away like nothing had happened at all.
You stood frozen in the hallway, skin prickling, chest heaving, every nerve ending screaming.
Hours bled by, and the whole house went quiet—only the faint hum of the fridge and Niki’s muffled snoring drifting through the walls. You were sprawled in your parents’ bed, tossing and turning, sheets tangled, mind racing too fast to settle. Heeseung’s voice, the way he’d looked at you, Jake’s shy smile, Jay’s heavy gaze—all of it looped through your head, tangled up with that sharp, thrumming guilt that wouldn’t let you rest.
Grumbling, you pushed yourself up, slipping out in nothing but a thin cotton tank top and matching sleep shorts, bare feet padding soft down the dark hall.
The kitchen was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the fridge light when you pulled the door open. You grabbed a cold bottle of water, twisted the cap off, and sank onto one of the high stools at the island, taking slow sips to try and cool the heat still thrumming under your skin.
“Someone’s thirsty.”
The voice was smooth, raspy, and so close you jumped so hard water sloshed over the rim.
“Fuck—” You pressed a hand hard over your hammering heart, turning fast. Jake was leaning in the doorway, hair messy and sticking up in soft tufts, wearing an oversized black tee and loose grey joggers, eyes heavy like he’d just woken up. “Jake—you scared the shit out of me.”
“Shit, sorry,” he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hand, shuffling closer. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“Yeah—insomnia,” you shrugged, twisting the cap back and forth on the bottle.
“Damn, that’s the worst,” he said, resting his palms flat on the counter across from you. “I know how that feels.”
“What about you?”
He huffed a quiet laugh, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Niki. Snores like a damn chainsaw.”
A small, breathless laugh bubbled out of you. “Trust me—I know. Grew up sharing a room with him for years.”
He chuckled too, and that soft, familiar dimple popped out, making your chest feel light and tight all at once. He pushed off the counter and rounded the island, pulling out the stool right next to you to sit down.
“Y’know,” he started, quiet but sure, “Niki’s so damn lucky to have you as a sister.”
You looked up, surprised, and a soft, shy smile tugged at your mouth. “Thanks.” Warm pink bloomed slow across your cheeks.
“I mean it,” he said, turning his body fully toward you, knee brushing yours beneath the counter. “You’re smart, you’re kind… you look out for him even when he’s being an idiot. And you’re so beautiful it’s actually unfair.” His voice dropped a little, softer, earnest. “Took all the good genes, left Niki with almost nothing.”
“Are you blushing?” He tilted his head, eyes glinting with quiet amusement.
“What? No—” You looked away fast. “I have… blush on, okay?”
He let out a low, warm laugh. “Y/n, c’mon. I’m not stupid. Nobody wears makeup to bed.” He lifted one hand, resting it light on your shoulder, thumb brushing soft over your skin. “It’s cute. I’m honoured.”
You couldn’t help the soft, breathy laugh that escaped you, leaning just a fraction closer without even noticing. His hand slipped from your shoulder, fingers brushing your jaw before tucking that stray lock of hair behind your ear—slow, deliberate, like he was taking his time memorising the way you shivered.
You froze, breath catching, that familiar, heavy ache coiling tight low in your stomach. His eyes stayed locked on yours for a heartbeat, then flicked down—slow, deliberate—to your parted lips, then back up, darker now, like he was holding back something huge.
“Jake…” you breathed, barely more than a whisper.
He didn’t say anything. Just leaned in slow, giving you every chance to pull away—until he was close enough that you could smell his warm, clean scent, feel the heat coming off him, see the way his lashes brushed his cheeks.
Then his hand came up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing soft over your bottom lip, and he kissed you—soft at first, tentative, like he was still half afraid he’d crossed a line. But when you sighed and leaned in, hands fisting gentle in the front of his shirt, he deepened it slow, warm and sure, his lips moving against yours like he’d been wanting this just as long as you had. It wasn’t rushed or rough—it was thick with all the things neither of you had said, all the quiet glances and lingering touches, tangled up with that sharp, guilty thrill that you shouldn’t want this… but god, you did.
His other hand slid to your waist, pulling you just a little closer, your knees pressing together, every breath shared between you shaky and warm. For a little while, there was nothing but the quiet hum of the house, the soft slide of his lips on yours, and the terrifying, wonderful realisation that you were in way deeper trouble than you thought.
“F-fuck,” you gasp, pulling back just enough to catch your breath, a shaky little laugh catching in your throat. Your head spins, lips swollen and warm from his, every nerve ending buzzing like you’ve been lit on fire. “Jake… I think we should stop.”
He blinks, his own chest heaving, cheeks flushed pink in the dim light. “Yeah—yeah, right. Sorry. Was that too much?”
“God, no.” You smile, soft and dazed, fingers brushing the back of his hand like you can’t help yourself. “It was good. So good.” Your smile fades just a little, tangled up in that familiar twist of guilt. “It’s just… Niki would lose his mind if he knew.”
Jake nods slowly, gaze dropping to your mouth like he can’t look away. “I know. We’re careful. I won’t say a word.” His voice drops to that soft, sleepy honey tone that makes your head spin worse. “But fuck—I want to kiss you again. So bad.”
Your stomach does that sharp, flipping little lurch—warmth spreading fast through your chest, butterflies swarming so thick you can barely breathe. You freeze for half a second, eyes darting straight to his lips: soft, full, still glistening a little from yours.
“Jake…” you whisper, but your voice sounds anything but a warning.
He shifts closer, slow like he’s giving you every chance to pull away—like he knows you won’t. His hand comes up to cup your jaw, palm warm and calloused, thumb brushing gently over your bottom lip. “Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, forehead resting light against yours, breath fanning over your skin. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop. Right now.”
You don’t tell him to stop.
Instead you lean in first, pressing your mouth back to his—slower this time, deeper, like you’re done pretending you don’t crave every second. Jake makes this quiet, broken little sound against your lips, pulling you closer until you’re pressed tight to his chest, his arms winding firm around your waist. It’s messier now, hungrier; he nips soft at your lip, licks into your mouth slow and sure, like he’s memorising exactly how you taste.
You tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, and he shivers, pressing a trail of soft, burning kisses down your jaw to your throat—lingering right over your pulse point, making you gasp and arch into him.
“God, you’re perfect,” he mumbles against your skin, voice thick and rough now, nothing like the shy boy you met at dinner. “So perfect. And I’ve wanted this for so long.”
For a second the thought of Niki nags at the back of your mind—but then Jake kisses you again, and it vanishes completely. You don’t care. Not right now. Not when he’s holding you like you’re something precious and something he’s been dying to have all at once.
The faint click of a door down the hall cuts through the quiet like a knife, and you both spring apart instantly—breath hitching, faces burning so hot you swear you’re glowing in the dim light. You stand there for a heartbeat just looking at him: Jake’s hair all messy from your fingers, lips pink and swollen, cheeks flushed that soft warm shade, eyes still dazed and dark like he’s drunk on you. He looks so pretty it hurts to look away.
“I… I should head back to bed,” you say, a shaky little laugh slipping out, half flustered half wrecked.
He nods fast, like he’s forcing himself to remember how to breathe. “Yeah—yeah, I’ll crash on the couch. God knows Niki sounds like a chainsaw when he’s out cold anyway.”
A small helpless chuckle spills from you. “Mmhm. Sleep well, Jake.”
You grab your glass of water, fingers still trembling a little, and make your way up the stairs slow, like your legs might give out any second. Every step echoes, and you can still feel the ghost of his hands on your waist, his taste on your tongue, the way his voice had gone all soft and thick against your skin.
You push open your bedroom door—and freeze.
Heeseung is perched on the corner of your bed, half swallowed by shadow, twisting one of your satin scrunchies slowly between his fingers like he’s been sitting there for hours. Waiting.
“Heeseung?” you whisper, barely audible, heart slamming so hard against your ribs you’re scared he’ll hear it.
He lifts his head, and his gaze locks onto yours—heavy, unblinking, consuming, like he’s stripping every secret right out of your head. The scrunchie slips from his fingers and lands silent on the sheets.
“Are we really going to keep pretending none of this happened?” he says, low and rough, your name rolling off his tongue slow and sharp like he’s been biting it back all night. “Y/n.”
A long shaky sigh leaves your chest. You were just kissing his best friend. Just had Jake’s hands in your hair, his lips on yours. You should feel guilty. You do—but standing here under Heeseung’s eyes, all that shame melts into something darker, something thrumming and alive that you can’t outrun.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” you murmur, shoulders lifting in a helpless little shrug.
He leans forward just an inch, elbows resting on his knees, and the air between you turns thick—so thick you can almost taste it, charged and electric and ready to snap.
“Anything,” he says, and it’s almost a plea, raw and quiet and desperate. “Tell me I’m not the only one going out of my mind.”
Your throat tightens. You look at him—really look at him—and you can’t lie.
“You’re not,” you admit, so quiet it’s almost a breath, your eyes darting all over his face like you’re memorising every line, every sharp perfect edge.
A slow, knowing smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, dark and satisfied. “Good,” he breathes, voice dropping so deep it vibrates right through your bones.
The dull, throbbing ache Jake left low in your belly flares hotter, sharper, spiking straight through you at the sound of Heeseung’s voice.
“It’s late,” you say, half-hearted, like you’re trying to convince yourself more than him.
“I know,” he sighs, and there’s that edge of frustration, that quiet agony in his tone that makes your knees weak. “But you… every time I see you, Y/n. It eats me alive. Every single fucking time.”
He stands slow, deliberate, and steps right into your space. You don’t move back. His hand comes up to cup your jaw—warm, firm, calloused a little—and his thumb brushes soft back and forth over your cheek until you’re leaning into him without even thinking, like he’s gravity itself. He dips his head, presses a slow, lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth—right where your lips are still bruised and swollen from Jake—and your breath catches so hard you almost choke. His nose drags slow along your jaw, down the side of your neck, and you gasp, fingers tangling tight into the back of his hair like you’re clinging on for dear life. His other arm wraps firm around your waist, pulling you flush against him for one long, dizzying second, every line of him pressed right up against you.
“I mean it,” he murmurs against your pulse point, and you shiver so hard your teeth rattle.
Then he pulls back—forces himself to pull back—and taps your hip once, light and deliberate, before he turns and walks out the door without another word.
You stand there in the dark for what feels like forever, chest heaving, skin burning, every nerve ending screaming for more.
“Fuck,” you groan, collapsing face-down onto your duvet, pressing your hands hard over your eyes like you can block it all out. Your mind spins in dizzying circles—Jake’s soft shy warmth, Heeseung’s burning hungry intensity—and then, unbidden, he slips right into your head too.
Jay. His quiet steady gaze, the way he watches you like he knows every single thing you’re feeling before you even say it.
And you know, deep down, you crossed every line you ever had a long time ago. You’re already so far gone you don’t think you can find your way back—and the worst part is… you don’t even want to.
The Next Morning
Pale morning light spills soft over the kitchen counters, but the air feels thick, like it’s holding its breath. Niki’s already rambling about practice, toast crumbs everywhere, completely oblivious. Jake sits hunched over his mug, eyes darting to you then away, cheeks pink like he’s scared even looking at you will give it all away. Heeseung leans against the sink, calm on the surface, but his gaze drags slow over you every time you look down—heavy, knowing, like he’s still tracing the shape of you.
And then there’s Jay.
He’s at the end of the table, flipping idly through a notebook, but he stops the second you step in. He doesn’t know. He hasn’t seen anything, hasn’t guessed—all he knows is something shifted between you overnight, something quiet and sharp he can’t quite name. His dark eyes lock onto yours, steady and unreadable, and the breath catches in your throat. He watches the way you fidget with your sleeves, the way you won’t quite meet his eye for too long, and a faint, confused furrow pulls between his brows.
“Morning,” he says, voice low and even, but there’s a soft edge to it, like he’s reaching for you without meaning to.
“Morning,” you reply, too quiet, too fast.
He doesn’t look away when you sit down across from him. You can feel his attention like a warm weight—on your mouth, the line of your jaw, the way your fingers twist around your mug. He doesn’t know about Jake, doesn’t know about Heeseung, doesn’t know why you look so wrecked when you look at him. All he feels is this sudden, heavy pull, this quiet ache that wasn’t there before, and it makes him watch you closer, like he’s trying to work out what he’s missing. Every time he shifts in his seat, every time his knee brushes yours under the table by accident, you both freeze for a heartbeat, the air thrumming with something neither of you will name.
One Week Later
Seven days of quiet, of dodging texts, of telling yourself you’re just keeping your distance for Niki. You’d agreed to the party your best friend, Megan keeps inviting you to only because you’d knew none of them would be there—until you walk in, and there he is.
Jay leans against the far wall, drink in hand, talking slow to someone you know from university. When he sees you, the conversation just… stops. The noise of the party—music, laughter, clinking glasses—fades to a dull hum around you, like the rest of the room has blurred out of focus. He excuses himself gently and walks toward you, slow and steady, like he’s not in any rush at all.
You freeze.
“I didn’t think you’d be here,” he says when he reaches you, voice low, close enough that you can smell his warm, familiar cologne.
“I didn’t know you knew Megan.” you say, and your voice comes out softer than you meant.
He gives a small, quiet smile, but his eyes are serious, fixed right on yours. “She’s an old friend, y’know small town.”
No one interrupts. No one comes over. You end up drifting toward the quiet edge of the living room, near the open balcony doors where the night air drifts in cool and soft. The music is slower now, something low and thrumming, matching the way your heart beats. Jay stands close—close enough that your arms almost brush, close enough that every small movement feels intentional. He doesn’t know about the others. He doesn’t know why your chest feels tight with guilt and want all tangled together. All he knows is that being near you feels different now—heavier, sharper, like something is about to tip over.
He leans one shoulder against the wall beside you, gaze sweeping over your face slow, deliberate. “You’ve been quiet this week,” he says, not accusing, just… watching. “Avoiding everyone?”
“Just busy,” you lie, and you know he sees it.
He nods slowly, like he expected it. His eyes drop to your mouth for a split second, then back up, and you see it—something flicker deep in his gaze, something hungry and restrained he’s been holding back. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t touch you. He just stands there, close enough that you can feel the heat rolling off him, quiet and steady, letting the silence stretch thick between you, charged with all the things neither of you will say.
“Y/n!!!”
Megan’s voice slices clean through the thick, charged air like a blade, and you jump a little, pulled abruptly out of the quiet trance you’d fallen into with Jay. You turn just as she throws her arms around you, and you hug her back automatically, your heart still thrumming from being so close to him.
Behind you, Jay’s gaze doesn’t waver. He watches the way your hair sways as you move, the way your dress rides up just a fraction higher on your thigh when you lean into the hug, and his eyebrows lift almost imperceptibly—his jaw tightening just a little, something dark and hungry flickering behind his eyes that he’s quick to school back into neutrality.
“Jay! Hey!” Megan pulls back from you and beams, stepping in to give him a quick hug too.
“Hey, Megan,” he says, and his voice is smooth, easy, like he wasn’t just burning holes into the side of your neck ten seconds ago. He gives her that small, charming smile that makes every girl in a ten-mile radius weak in the knees, and you have to look away before you do something stupid.
“Wait—since when do you two know each other?” Megan blinks, looking between you both like she just stumbled onto a secret.
“He’s, uh… friends with Niki,” you say, a little too fast, clearing your throat softly.
Jay nods, his eyes flicking briefly back to you. “Yeah. We’ve been hanging around her place a lot lately.”
Megan’s face lights up in recognition. “Oh right! That Instagram post you did with him a while back. Makes total sense now.”
You glance at Jay again, and the breath catches in your throat. He’s already looking at you, his gaze heavy and warm, and for a second you forget how to breathe. God, he looks good—lean and sharp in that black shirt, his hair falling just right over his forehead, the corner of his mouth tugged up in that quiet, knowing little half-smile that makes your stomach flip. You swallow hard, forcing yourself to look back at Megan before you do something you’ll regret.
“C’mon,” Megan says, looping her arm firmly through yours and tugging you away. “We’re grabbing drinks. Now.”
“Meg, you know I don’t drink,” you chuckle, trying to dig your heels in a little, but she’s already pulling you across the room.
“Today’s a day for new things,” she declares, and you glance over your shoulder just in time to catch Jay’s eyes on you again—dark, intense, following you across the room like he can’t look away.
“I’ll see you guys later,” he calls out, and his voice is low enough that it sends a little shiver down your spine.
Megan doesn’t stop talking until you’re both in the kitchen, her pushing a cold cup into your hands. “Y/n, you never told me you knew Jay Park,” she says, leaning against the counter, her eyes wide with curiosity.
You shrug, trying to play it cool even though your hands are shaking a little around the cup. “I just met him like a month and a half ago. Through Niki, like I said.”
“So you’ve met Heeseung and Jake too, then?”
Your heart stops dead in your chest. The name hits you like a punch to the gut, and you freeze mid-sip, your face going hot. “Y-yeah,” you stammer, clearing your throat roughly. “Yeah, I’ve met them.”
Megan’s eyes narrow. She knows you. She knows every little tell, every tiny shift in your body language that gives you away. “Oh my god, y/n,” she breathes, leaning in closer. “What is going on with you? You look like you just saw a ghost.”
“Nothing,” you say, too quickly, turning away to set the cup down. “It’s nothing, Meg.”
“Bullshit,” she says, grabbing your wrist. “Y/n, I know you inside and out. Something’s up. Spill.”
You groan, squeezing your eyes shut for a second. The guilt, the want, the tangled mess of everything that’s happened in the last week—Jake’s soft kisses, Heeseung’s burning intensity, Jay’s quiet, unshakable pull—it’s all been eating you alive, and you haven’t been able to tell anyone. Until now.
“I fucked up, Meg,” you whisper, your voice cracking a little.
She shoves the drink back into your hand, her face serious now. “C’mon.” She nods toward the hallway. “My dad’s office is down here. No one will bother us. You’re telling me everything.”
She leads you down the quiet hall, away from the thrum of music and laughter, and pushes open the heavy wooden door to her father’s study. It’s dark and quiet inside, the air thick with the smell of old books and leather, and when she closes the door behind you both, the silence feels heavy, pressing in on you from all sides.
You sink down onto the edge of the big leather desk chair, staring at your hands, and Megan leans against the desk in front of you, waiting.
And then it all comes spilling out—every last messy, confusing, dangerous detail. The way Jake looked at you that night, the kiss that left you breathless, Heeseung waiting in your room like he’d known exactly where you’d been, the way he’d touched you like he was claiming you without even trying, the way Jay has been under your skin from the very start even though nothing has ever happened between you, even though he doesn’t know any of it. You tell her about the guilt, about Niki, about the way you feel like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff and you can’t bring yourself to step back.
When you finish, your voice is raw, your eyes burning, and Megan is staring at you like she can’t believe what she just heard.
“Y/n,” she says, slow and quiet. “You’re tangled up with all three of them?”
“I know,” you whisper, dropping your face into your hands. “I know how bad it is. I know I shouldn’t want any of them. But I can’t stop, Meg. I can’t.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, then she sighs, reaching out to touch your shoulder gently. “Okay. Okay, breathe. We’ll figure this out. But first… you need to be careful. Because if Niki finds out? It’ll break him. And if those three find out about each other? Things are gonna get messy. Real messy.”
You nod, your throat tight. You know she’s right. You’ve known it from the second Heeseung first kissed you in that car. But knowing it doesn’t make the wanting stop.
“I just— I don’t know. The minute I saw them something shifted, and they haven’t left my head since. What happened with Heeseung, then Jake… and all I can think about is Jay. How his lips would feel against mine.” You groan, burying your face in your hands, voice thick and slurring just a little. “God, I’m such a whore.”
“Hey—stop that right now.” Megan nudges you firm, wrapping an arm tight around your shoulders when you slump against her. “You are not! You’ve barely dated anyone, and you’ve been single for ages! And let’s be real—they’re the ones chasing you. Staring, hovering, dropping hints like you’re the only person in the room. This isn’t just you.”
“I just… fuck! I don’t know what to do!” You drag your hands down your face, chest tight and messy.
“C’mon—be honest.” She nudges your arm again, grinning like she’s got you all figured out. “Who are you gone for the most?”
“Oh my god, don’t make me say it.” You whine, staring at the ceiling like it holds the answers.
“Tell me!”
You sigh, long and defeated. “At first it was Heeseung. Then it was Jay. Then that car ride—Heeseung kissed me, and I thought I’d lose my mind. Then the sleepover… Jake was so sweet, so soft, and I kissed him back. Then Heeseung cornered me in my room, teasing me like he knew every thought in my head… but ever since then? It’s just Jay. I can’t stop craving him. It’s so fucked up. This whole thing is so fucked!”
Megan blinks, then lets out a low whistle. “Yeah, okay, that is a lot. But tonight? We forget all of it. We party, we have fun, we act like none of them exist.”
“How am I supposed to do that when Jay’s literally in the same house?” You pout, picking at the edge of your sleeve.
“I’m not leaving your side, promise.”
But the second you step back out into the hallway, she’s gone—spotting her boyfriend across the room and darting off without a second glance. You huff, slipping out the back door into the cool night air, the two drinks you’d downed already making your head spin soft and warm. You lean against the garden wall, eyes closing for a second, and that’s when you hear it.
“Well, isn’t it Nishimura?”
The voice is low, familiar, and your stomach flips right over. You turn slow, and there he is—Jay, leaning in the doorway, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a half-empty cup.
“Hey, Park,” you say, your voice lighter than you mean it to be.
He chuckles, stepping out into the dark with you. “Didn’t take you for the party type.”
“I’m not,” you groan, tipping your head back against the wall. “Regretting it already.”
His gaze drops to your flushed cheeks, your glassy eyes, and he steps closer. “You’re drunk.”
“Just two drinks,” you mumble, stumbling a little when you shift your weight.
He moves faster than you can think—one hand curling firm and warm around your hip, the other splayed wide over your back, pulling you flush against him so you don’t fall. The contact makes you gasp, every nerve ending lighting up all at once.
“Easy there,” he murmurs, his voice dropping low and rough right against your ear. “You’re a lightweight, huh?”
You swallow hard, your heart hammering so fast you’re sure he can feel it through his shirt. “How much have you had?”
“One beer, three cups of whatever this is.” He shrugs, but his eyes are dark, swimming with something hot and unhidden. “I’m a little gone too, I’ll admit.”
A shiver races down your spine, settling deep in your bones. You tilt your head up, and he’s already looking at you—his gaze dropping to your lips, then back to your eyes, like he’s been waiting for permission his whole life.
“Jay…” you breathe, barely a whisper.
He doesn’t ask. He doesn’t tease. He just leans in, and his mouth crashes against yours.
It’s nothing like Jake’s soft shyness, nothing like Heeseung’s slow, deliberate taunts. Jay kisses you like he’s starving—hungry, sure, like he’s been holding back for weeks and finally can’t anymore. His lips are firm, warm, moving against yours with a heavy, demanding rhythm that makes your knees go weak. He licks into your mouth slow and deep, swallowing every little gasp you let out, his hands tightening on your waist like he wants to pull you right into him.
You tangle your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging him closer, and he groans low in his throat—the sound vibrating right through your chest. He walks you backward until your back hits the cold brick wall, one hand sliding down to grip your thigh, hiking your leg up around his hip so you’re pressed tight against every hard line of him. He kisses you deeper, harder, biting soft at your lower lip before soothing the sting with his tongue, like he’s claiming every part of you for himself.
You’re breathless, dizzy, drunk on him and the alcohol and the sheer weight of everything you’ve been craving. When he finally pulls back just an inch, his forehead resting against yours, both of you are panting hard.
“Fuck,” he breathes, his thumb brushing slow over your jaw. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”
His forehead stays pressed to yours for only a heartbeat before he’s kissing you again—harder, hungrier, like he’s making up for every second he held back. His hands slide down your back, gripping your thighs to lift you easily against the wall, and you wrap your legs tight around his waist, gasping into his mouth when you feel just how much he wants you pressed right against you.
There’s nothing gentle or tentative about this. He kisses you deep, his tongue sweeping slow and claiming through your parted lips, swallowing every shaky breath and quiet whimper you let out. His hands roam everywhere—under the hem of your dress, warm and rough against your bare skin, tracing the curve of your hips, your waist, pulling you so close there’s not an inch of space left between you.
“God, you have no idea,” he groans against your throat, teeth grazing soft over your pulse before he sucks slow and hard right where your neck meets your shoulder, making you arch and tangle your fingers tight into his hair. “No idea how long I’ve thought about this. About you.”
You can barely breathe, every nerve ending on fire, drunk on the taste of him and the way he touches you like he knows exactly what you need. His hand slides higher up your thigh, fingers brushing dangerously close to where you’re already throbbing for him, and you let out a broken little sound that makes him growl low in his chest.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, kissing his way back up to your mouth, his voice wrecked and rough. “Tell me right now and I’ll stop.”
You shake your head, pulling him back down to you, kissing him with everything you have—all the guilt, all the craving, all the weeks of pretending you didn’t want him more than anything. “Don’t stop. Please Jay—don’t stop.”
He makes a rough, broken sound against your lips, and lifts you up higher, carrying you fast toward the shadowed side of the garden, away from the lights and noise. He sets you down slow against the wall, his hands never leaving you, his mouth trailing hot, open kisses down your chest, over every inch of skin he can reach. Every touch burns, every kiss leaves you shivering, and for a little while you forget everything else—Heeseung, Jake, Niki, all the lines you shouldn’t cross—there’s only him, only the way he makes you feel like you’re finally where you’re supposed to be. Your dress rides up higher you lace panties peeking. The cold air hitting your exposed hip. His finger traced your waistband of your panties. And you melted at that alone. “C-can I?” Jay asks. “Please-“ you nod. His fingers slide past your panties to your bare core, his finger lightly traced your slit. Your head tilts back against the wall behind you— a soft sigh of pleasure escapes your lips and it sends a jolt through jays body— Jays lips kiss below your ear before whispering. “Your drenched…sweetheart” you melted. He began to rub your sensitive clit, which made you back arch instantly. “Jay!” You gasped under your breath. “Shhhh” he kisses the corner of your lip. “Just feel it.” He pumped a finger in you, and you cried out from how good it felt. “Like that… huh?” He smirked against your lips. “Fuck- yes” you breathed out before pressing your lips against his.
He kept going before you came within minutes. He pulled out his fingers and immediately brought it to his lips. Your heart stops, the sight of him sucking you juices of his fingers like that made you go insane. He kisses your lips once more before pulling away. “Let’s get you home, yeah?”
The house is dead quiet by the time you slip back inside, your legs still trembling, your skin buzzing like Jay’s hands are still on you. You drag yourself up the stairs, shower off the night in a daze, and collapse face-down onto your bed—but sleep won’t come. Every time you close your eyes, all you see is Jay: his dark blown-out gaze, the way his hands burned hot on your skin, the rough, broken things he’d breathed against your throat.
You roll onto your back, staring up at the ceiling, chest tight and tangled all over again. Guilt curls sharp in your gut—you’d kissed Jake, let Heeseung tease you until you were dizzy, and tonight you’d given Jay every part of you like you’d been waiting your whole life to do it. You bury your face in your pillow, half wishing you could forget everything, half wishing you could replay it all over again.
But your mind won’t settle, caught in a dizzying loop you can’t break. Jake wraps around you like soft, warm safety, like coming home to something gentle and steady; Heeseung burns bright and sharp, pulling you into a reckless, breathless spin you can’t bring yourself to step away from; and Jay… Jay feels like the quiet, inevitable pull you’ve been denying all along, heavy and sure and seared into every inch of you. You can’t pick one—can’t untangle the want from the guilt, the thrill from the fear, or what’s right from what feels so impossibly good. The weight of it all presses down until your chest aches: the secret kisses, the stolen touches, the brother you’d never mean to hurt, and the terrible truth that you’re already too far gone, lost between three different versions of what you crave, and completely unable to find your way back.
𝟭𝟳𝟯𝟲. εїз ─── lover’s quarrel. suggestive. est relationship. rupture in intimacy. kissing. fingering. soft dom jake. make-up sex. longing. dry humping. oral Ꮗ 𝐹. mommy kink. 69. unprotected sex. somnophilia. reverse scoop. pet names used, baby & wife. cock warm. cream pie. jake is head over heels for reader (and pussy obsessed). ꒰ reblog for a smooch. 𑁤
the arguments between you and jake started off as something small—not from jealousy. the reason was he forgot your two years anniversary and you know too well not to lose your temper. it’s too late now. he was sleeping on the couch after he got home from work and you, you’re sleeping on the bed, alone.
cold and empty.
he felt guilty, and the thought of knowing you cried yourself to sleep because he was busy dealing with his work and plus, the pressure. but that doesn’t mean he is invalidating your feelings, jake always cares for you. though, his idiocy by responding, “i forgot, let’s just re-schedule it.” he almost wanted for the floor to swallow him whole.
“you always forget things, anyway.” referring to the time where he said he was going to take you out on a date, and then he didn’t come because he was swamped with work. “and no, you don’t have to waste your time. go focus on being workaholic.” you walked away without looking back and until then, you ignored him even when he tries to talk to you.
you didn’t mean those words.
obviously, you wanted to celebrate your special day with him. however, you don’t want to get your hopes up. you are just a human after all, you get tired all the time.
and so is he.
though, that doesn’t lead to them breaking up. every relationship endure fights—even if it’s small or big—it makes them reinforce the bond they built from the beginning. jake, as someone who truly and deeply adores you, he never stops showing his love no matter what the circumstances are.
even after the argument, he’d always buy takoyaki which you mentioned your favorite. you tried to roll your eyes, acting annoyed—even though, that made your heart warm. you just wanted to act petty, because your boyfriend looks adorable, pouting naturally and the eyes—god—his eyes, it makes your legs weak every time.
[name], focus.
happy thoughts. pure happy thoughts.
his thick veiny hands appeared out of nowhere. fuck fuck fuck. you hit your head several times with your palm, without knowing jake has been watching you, concerned reflected in his expression.
he rushed toward you and grab your wrist to stop you from hitting your head. “stop… stop doing that. what’s wrong, baby? you can tell me what’s been bothering you. is it because of me? i swear, i won’t forget our anniversary this time. i promise you.”
you tutted, looking away. you tried to suppress the smile growing on the corner of your lips, and you failed. “shut up… don’t call me that. i’m supposed to be angry, jaeyun.” you furrowed your eyebrows, before turning to look at his face which held longing in his eyes.
“not the government name…” he grumbled, dropping onto his knees as his gaze drifted to your moist lips. he gulped, “then, what should i do for you to forgive me, mhm?” his tone slurred.
you lose.
you can’t win against someone as charming as your boyfriend.
never, so you accepted the defeat.
for now.
“kiss me.” you insisted.
jake, without hesitation leaned in and claimed your lips with his plump ones. humming, at last, the taste of victory he’ve been dreaming of after the fight is now happening. you don’t have any idea how much he wanted to smash his lips against yours just to shut your pretty mouth up.
“you still mad at me, baby?” he mumbled through the kisses. “no… i could never be mad at you, jakey. you know that.” you gave his lips a peck, hands tangled in the nape of his neck.
he hummed, “good, because i’ve been dying to touch you like this.” his gripped on your waist, lifting you up so you can straddle him. you crashed your lips against him, once more. biting the soft flesh, moaning in bliss.
“fuck,” jake cursed under his breath, as he felt you rolling your hips on his visible bulge through his shorts. “baby, stop moving. let me eat you out, please?”
you sat up on the dining chair, while he is now kneeling down and pulling your legs apart. jake began to pull down your shorts along with your panties, he threw them away somewhere in the dining area and that’s not his concern at the moment.
“you’re soaking wet, baby.” he said in awe, fascinated by how your pussy glistened with your slick. “god, my fingers slipped in easily. so soft.” he’s pushing his fingers deep into your heat, as his tongue licks every area where your juices leaked through.
he was being gentle, taking his time to show how much you deserve to be appreciated—and you deserve to have your pussy eaten.
you moaned out loud, as he sucked on your nub. “jakey… don’t stop, i’m almost there…” he groaned, mouth devouring your cunt, drinking the nectar seeping out of your hole. “i’ve been having sleepless night, do you know that? can’t sleep without you by my side, knowing i can’t hold you while i sleep. i miss you bad, baby. so so bad.”
“i—i miss you too, jakey. it’s hard for me too. i don’t want to ever fight with you again… i was just so upset.” you choked up, tears began to form in the corner of your eyes.
his mouth twitched, trying to fight back the tears. “i’m so sorry, baby. it’s not gonna happen again, alright? i asked for leave and the company let me. we’ll spend the time together—those times i wasted working my butt off.” jake caressed your cheeks, wiping the tears off your face.
“really?” he nodded, getting up from his knees. he gave a light peck to your forehead. “yes really, so are we okay now?” still hesitant, making sure you’re not upset with him anymore.
you made a face, teasing him.
“maybe…?”
he stepped closer to you, leaning down to your level. “maybe, i can change that?”
and suddenly, you are on your shared bedroom getting wolfed down by your boyfriend.
“yun—fuck—“ your high pitched scream filled the room, as you are in a seated position on his face while your mouth is working on his pudgy cock. “love having your pussy on my mouth, mommy.” his voice muffled, tongue flickering your warm cunt. your legs quivered from the nickname. he was quick to notice the motion, smirking triumphantly.
“you’re going to come, mommy?” he asked, voice hoarse from a dry throat as his big pointy nose grazes on your clit.
a soft whimper rips out of you, gagging on his cock, as spits pooling from the corners of your mouth. “y—yes, yes—nghh!” jake shoved his three digits inside you, thrusting relentlessly. the wetness from your hole made succulent noises. you came into his mouth, he instinctively sipped the juices leaking through your hole. when he tasted you, it didn’t stop jake from slamming his hips on the back of your throat.
eventually, hot spurts of cum were gushing through the reddish tip. he grunted, hips bucking up letting you swallow all of him. you moaned from the taste, pulling your mouth away from his now soft cock with a faint pop.
you rolled over to lay down beside him, wrapping an arm around his waist as jake kisses you all over your face. “i love you.”
a red tint on your cheeks gave away, feeling shy all of a sudden, and jake let out a giggle finding his girlfriend so endearing. “i love you the most, jakey.” you hid your face on his chest, breathing him in. the smell of woody with a hint of aquatic on it got you addicted, that you don’t even plan on pulling away from him. you just wanted to be bathed by his scent in that moment.
that brief, sweet moment was shattered because of jake not-so-innocent question. “can i cock warm you, baby…?”
how could you say no when he was batting his eyes at you. so you unwittingly nodded.
“fine, but don’t you dare move. i’m tired.”
did he listen? no.
when his cock is fully inside you, he made sure you are in a deep sleep. jake thrust steadily, doesn’t want to disturb your sleep, let alone interrupt your dreams about him. he hold back the groan that was about to spill out of his mouth, swallowing hard.
you unconsciously clenched around him.
his eyes grew wide, a gasp escaped him. as his hand flew over your bum, squeezing them feebly. “fuck, baby.” he bit the shell of your ear, right then, you stirred in your sleep from the sharp sting in your ear.
the trust gradually increases, not too rough or else there will be another ruckus and jake doesn’t want that to happen again. he is getting close to his orgasm, hands digging on your waist. “feels so good, mommy.” you whimpered, hips rolling in circles involuntarily to feel him deeper. “yesyesyes, your pussy is perfect for my cock. you’re so perfect, my baby.” then he reached his climax, finishing off inside you and he didn’t think of pulling out.
you’re going to wake up with his cum dripping out of your pussy as you get off the bed in morning and god, the thought of seeing how messy you’d look turns him on. it was impossible not to, when you’re literally the woman of his dreams. so beautiful, and flawless. he worships the ground you stepped a foot on, because for him—you are the embodiment of beauty. only you could make him this madly in love, obsessed even.
he thanked God the almighty and all existence for creating such a goddess like you. also, for being patient with him. for being devoted to him. jake heaved a sigh, tucking a loose strand of hair in your ear before leaning in to kiss the top of your head. he stared at your pretty face, briefly. “i love you so much, my wife.” he felt his eyelids getting heavy, fighting the sleepiness away, yet, he loses the strength due to exhaustion.
summary: jake has been practicing shibari with you for a while now, always nerding out on ropes. in the middle of his research, he comes across a certain porn video that sparks an entirely new conversation
tags/content: smut, 18+, shibari + bondage + suspension, daddy jake + sir sunghoon + sub reader, lots of kink negotiation and check ins via color system (reader yellows twice and jake takes care of her accordingly), safe kinda sane and definitely consensual, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, they fuck while reader is suspended, threesome (sunghoon is implied to have joined them in the bedroom in the past), bonus aftercare scene, subspace, jake takes photos of reader while she’s tied up, jake is a nerd in this
a/n: i actually don’t know too much about shibari so please take the technical stuff in this with a grain of salt BUT i just know jake would be so so thorough with his research before he ever brings any new kinks into the bedroom. also this is actually based on an actual porn video i saw and instantly thought “that is so jakehoon”. inspiration is truly everywhere
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
You still remember the first time Jake showed you his rope collection. It was maybe three months into dating and he'd been nervous in a way you'd never seen from him before. His hands fidgeted with the edge of his shirt as he pulled out the wooden box from his closet and set it on the bed between you.
"So this is kind of my thing," he'd said, not quite meeting your eyes.
Inside the box were coils of rope in deep burgundy and natural hemp. All of them neatly wound and organized by length and thickness. He explained each one with the same careful enthusiasm he brought to everything. The different fiber types and their properties. How jute held knots differently than hemp. The way certain dyes could affect the texture. You watched his face more than the ropes themselves. His eyes lit up as he traced a finger along the twist of a particularly beautiful piece.
He told you then that no one had ever wanted to try it with him, not really. His ex had tolerated one session before declaring it too slow and too weird. Another had laughed when he brought it up. He'd stopped mentioning it to partners after that and kept this part of himself folded away in a box at the back of his closet.
"You don't have to," he'd said quickly, already closing the lid of the box. "I just wanted you to know about me."
You'd reached out and stopped his hand.
The first few times were clumsy on your end. You kept wanting to reach for him and finding your wrists already bound. Your instinct during intimacy had always been to touch grab. The restraint felt strange and unfamiliar at first.
Jake was patient. He always checked in and asked about pressure and circulation and comfort. He'd stop mid tie to adjust a loop that looked slightly off to his eye even when you couldn't feel any difference. Shibari was just another system for him to master and you were the canvas he got to practice on.
Somewhere along the way it stopped feeling like something you were tolerating for his sake.
Now it's been almost a year. You know the sound of rope sliding through his hands. You know the particular focus that settles over his features when he's planning a pattern. Tonight he'd texted you earlier asking if you were in the mood and the anticipation had buzzed under your skin all through dinner.
The air in the bedroom is still and warm. It smells faintly of the leather conditioner Jake uses on his gear. He's dimmed the lights to a soft amber glow and long shifting shadows cling to the walls where your bodies move. You lie on the cool sheets watching him select a length of rope from the neat coils arranged beside you. His fingers are confident and sure as they trace a path from your ankle to your knee.
"You're so beautiful like this," he murmurs. He's not looking at your face. His focus is entirely on the line of your leg. "Just completely open."
You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. The sound is too loud in the quiet room. "I always feel more with you when you tie."
"I know. That's the point." He finally glances up. A quick bright smile flashes across his face. His hands return to their work and a simple cuff forms around your ankle with a series of efficient loops and tucks. The hemp is smooth and familiar. "How's the tension?"
You flex your foot experimentally and feel the rope shift just slightly against your skin. The pressure is firm but not tight, exactly where it should be.
"Green," you tell him.
He nods once and his hands keep moving. You've learned to read his silences during these sessions. This one is comfortable and focused, the same quiet concentration he gets when he's debugging code at his laptop or explaining the finer points of some board game you've never heard of.
The cuff around your ankle connects to a series of wraps around your calf. He works methodically up your leg and pauses every few passes to check in with a glance or a murmured question. You answer each time. Green. Green. Still green.
When he finishes the first leg he sits back on his heels and studies his work. His head tilts to one side and you can practically see him cataloging the lines and angles.
"I want to try something different tonight," he says. His thumb traces idle circles on your knee. "If you're up for it."
"Different how?"
He reaches for his phone on the nightstand and pulls up a photo. You've seen his reference folder before, filled with dozens of saved images from artists he follows online. This one shows a woman suspended in midair with an intricate web of rope cradling her torso and hips. The lines create geometric patterns across her body and she looks almost weightless.
"It's called a TK," he explains. His voice takes on that eager quality you recognize. "Takate kote. It's a foundational chest harness for suspension work."
He swipes to another image showing the tie from a different angle. "See how the ropes distribute weight across the upper body? The geometry is actually really elegant from an engineering standpoint."
You look at the photos and then back at him. "You want to hang me from the ceiling?"
"No." He shakes his head quickly. "Not tonight. Not until we've practiced a lot more and I've taken more classes. I just want to try the tie itself on you to see how it looks."
He sets the phone down and meets your eyes. His expression is open and hopeful in that way that always gets to you. "The suspension part comes way later. If ever, and only if you want. The harness alone is beautiful and I've been watching tutorials for weeks. I really want to see it on someone who isn't a mannequin."
"You practiced on a mannequin?"
"I practiced on a dress form I bought from a craft store," he admits. A flush creeps up his neck. "Her name is Patricia."
You laugh and the tension you didn't realize you were holding loosens in your chest. This is such a Jake thing to do. Whenever he was interested in something, he always went above and beyond.
"Okay," you say.
His whole face lights up. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Show me what you've learned."
He kisses you then, quick and a little giddy. Then he's all business again. He reaches for a longer coil of rope and running it through his hands to check for snags or rough spots.
"I'll need you to sit up for this part," he says. "And tell me immediately if anything feels off. Numbness or tingling or pinching, especially around your arms and shoulders."
You push yourself upright and he settles behind you on the bed. His chest is warm against your back for just a moment before he shifts to give himself room to work. The first loop of rope passes over your shoulders and crosses between your breasts. He adjusts the placement with careful fingers and you feel the hemp settle against your collarbone.
"Color?"
"Green."
He continues building the harness. Each pass of rope connects to the last in ways you can't quite track. You feel the structure taking shape around you. A web of tension that holds you without squeezing. He narrates as he works in a low murmur you've come to find soothing.
"This part is called the kannuki," he says as he threads rope through a series of loops behind your back. "It locks everything in place. See how it creates that diamond shape between your shoulder blades?"
You can't see it but you can feel it. The ropes frame your body in ways that make you suddenly aware of your own shape. You understand what he meant earlier about decoration.
He brings your arms behind your back next, forearms parallel and palms facing outward. The position isn't uncomfortable but it's definitely restrictive. You test it instinctively and find almost no give.
"Too much?"
"No." You settle into the restraint and let your shoulders relax. "It's just a lot. In a good way."
"Okay. Tell me if that changes."
More rope winds around your arms, securing them in place with the same efficient loops he used on your ankle. You feel the harness connect to the arm bindings and suddenly everything is one integrated system. Pulling your arms shifts the tension across your chest. Arching your back changes the pressure on your shoulders.
"Almost done," he says. You can hear the smile in his voice.
The final passes of rope create a handle of sorts at the center of your back. He tugs on it gently and you feel the pull distributed evenly across the whole structure. No single point bears the weight. It's clever engineering disguised as art.
He comes around to face you and his breath catches slightly.
"God," he says softly. "You look incredible."
You feel incredible. The rope is like an extension of his hands, touching you everywhere simultaneously.
He retrieves his phone again and snaps a few photos. You watch him swipe through them with that critical eye, zooming in on knots and checking the symmetry of the lines.
"The tension is good," he says, more to himself than to you. "The wraps are even. The kannuki is sitting right where it should. Patricia would be proud."
"I can't believe you named your dress form Patricia."
"She has a very Patricia energy." He sets the phone aside and cups your face in his hands. "How do you feel? Honestly."
You take stock of your body. Your arms are secure but your fingers move freely and you don't feel any tingling. The chest harness is snug without restricting your breathing. The ropes press into your skin in a way that registers as firm but not painful.
"Good," you tell him. "Really good."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." You lean forward as much as the tie allows and press your forehead to his. "Thank you for showing me."
He kisses you again, slower this time. His hands trace the lines of rope across your body like he's memorizing them through touch. When he pulls back his eyes are dark and his breathing has gone uneven.
"So," he says. "Now that I have you all tied up and helpless."
You raise an eyebrow. "Now you're going to take advantage?"
"Advantage is such a strong word." His fingers trace along the rope that frames your breasts and you feel your breath hitch. "I prefer to think of it as thoroughly appreciating my handiwork."
"Is that what we're calling it now?"
"Mm." He leans down and presses his lips to the hollow of your throat. "I spent a lot of time on this tie. It would be rude not to give it the attention it deserves."
His mouth travels lower, following the line of hemp across your collarbone. You arch into the touch instinctively and the harness shifts around you, reminding you of every point where rope meets skin.
"Very rude," you manage.
"Exactly." His teeth graze your shoulder and you shiver. "And I'm nothing if not polite."
His hand slides down your stomach. He pauses just below your navel and looks up at you through dark lashes.
"Color?"
"Green." The word comes out breathier than you intended. "Very green."
"Good. Because I have plans for you."
"Plans?"
"Extensive plans." His fingers resume their downward path. "Detailed plans. I may have made a spreadsheet."
You laugh despite yourself. "Of course you did."
"Column A is for things that make you gasp." His hand dips lower and you prove his point immediately. "Column B is for things that make you beg."
"What's in column C?"
He leans in close. His breath warm against your ear. "Column C is a surprise."
────୨ৎ────
Three days later you come home from work to the sound of moaning.
Loud, theatrical moaning that echoes through the apartment and greets you before you've even fully closed the front door.
You drop your bag by the entrance and toe off your shoes. This isn't an unusual occurrence. Jake's research habits have long since stopped surprising you. The first time you'd walked in on him taking detailed notes while a woman on screen demonstrated proper flogging technique you'd nearly choked on your coffee. Now it barely registers.
You wander into the living room expecting the usual scene. Jake on the couch with his laptop balanced on the coffee table. His battered notebook open to a fresh page as his pen moves across it in that quick efficient way he writes when he's fully absorbed in something.
The scene matches your expectations exactly. Except for one detail.
His eyes haven't left the screen and his pen has gone still against the paper. His hand has wandered, palming his very obvious erection through his sweatpants. The moaning continues at full volume and he doesn't seem to notice you at all.
You glance at the screen. A woman is suspended in an elaborate rope harness not unlike the one Jake put you in. Her body twists slowly in the air and the person behind the camera alternates between wide shots and close ups of specific knots and connection points.
"Taking notes or just enjoying the ambiance?" you ask.
Jake doesn't respond.
You move closer and wave a hand in front of his face. "Hello? Earth to Jake?"
He blinks and looks up at you.
The witty comment you had prepared dies in your throat.
His eyes are dark and focused in that way you recognize from those moments when he's done with the technical work and ready to move on to other things. He doesn't look startled or embarrassed at being caught staring at suspension porn like it holds the secrets of the universe.
He looks hungry.
"You're home," he says. His voice has that low quality to i that always makes your knees go a little weak.
"I am." You swallow. "What are you watching?"
"Research." He doesn't look away from you. "I found a new tutorial series. The rigger trained in Tokyo for six years."
"And?"
"And I've been thinking about you all day." He reaches out and catches your wrist. His thumb traces circles against your pulse point. "About how you looked in the harness and how you'd look in this."
He tilts his head toward the screen without breaking eye contact. The woman spins slowly. You feel heat rise to your cheeks. After everything you've done together the fact that he can still make you blush feels almost unfair.
"Jake," you start.
"I have ideas." He tugs gently on your wrist and you step closer. "I've been writing them down."
You glance at his notebook. The page is covered in diagrams and notes you can't quite read from this angle.
"Is there a spreadsheet involved?"
"There might be a spreadsheet involved."
You laugh but it comes out shaky. The way he's looking at you makes it hard to think straight.
"And what exactly are these ideas?"
He pulls you down into his lap. His hands settle on your hips and hold you in place. The whimpering from the laptop continues in the background, obscene yet somehow adding to the tension building between you.
"I'll show you," he says against your jaw. "If you want."
"I want."
His smile curves against your skin. "Good answer."
His mouth traces a path along your jaw and you tilt your head to give him better access. Your hands find his shoulders and grip the fabric of his shirt. The laptop continues its chorus of moans beside you and you're about to suggest moving this to the bedroom when Jake pulls back.
"Here," he says. "Let me show you."
He reaches for the laptop and you blink. Your brain takes a moment to catch up as he drags the progress bar forward on the video. The moaning cuts out and skips ahead to a different part of the scene.
"Oh." You can't help but laugh. "You meant literally show me."
"What did you think I meant?"
"Something that involved fewer clothes and less educational content."
He grins and presses a quick kiss to your temple. "Patience. We'll get there. First I want you to see this part."
The video resumes. The woman is still suspended but now there are two people in frame instead of one. Two sets of hands move over her body, turning her this way and that like she weighs nothing at all. One of them spins her slowly while the other traces the lines of rope across her stomach. They pass her between them with practiced ease.
You watch their hands, the way they work in tandem. One tilting her chin up while the other one starts rutting against her core. The woman's eyes are closed and her expression is blissful. Jake pauses the video.
"So," he says. His voice is carefully neutral in that way that means he's nervous about your reaction. "What do you think?"
"It's beautiful," you say honestly. "But I'm guessing you're not just showing me for aesthetic appreciation."
"No." His thumb traces circles on your hip. "I was thinking we could try something like this if you're interested."
Your stomach does a complicated flip. "We as in you and me and who exactly?"
"Sunghoon."
The name settles between you. Sunghoon has been in your bedroom before, with his quiet intensity and his careful hands. Those nights had been really good, but this feels different somehow, more elaborate.
"You've thought about this," you say.
"I've thought about this a lot." Jake reaches for his notebook and flips to a different page. You catch glimpses of diagrams and bullet points before he angles it toward you. "I've been working out the logistics. The suspension rig can definitely handle the movement. The harness I put you in last week would be perfect for this kind of thing because the weight distribution allows for rotation without putting stress on any single point."
You look at the notes. His handwriting is cramped and eager. There’s little arrows connecting different concepts. A sketch of a figure in the middle of the page that vaguely looks like you in a harness with annotations pointing to various attachment points.
"You made diagrams."
"I made diagrams." He sounds almost sheepish. "And I talked to Sunghoon already. Just hypothetically. He's interested but only if you are. No pressure either way."
"What did he say?"
"He said he'd been wanting to learn more about rope work anyway. And he said..." Jake pauses and a faint flush creeps up his neck. "He said he likes the way you look when you're tied up. That time he watched me do the leg ties on you he couldn't stop thinking about it for a week."
The admission sends a pulse of heat through you. You remember that night. Sunghoon sat in the chair by the window while Jake worked, his eyes tracking every movement. He came untouched that day, before he even got his hands on you.
"Oh," you say softly.
"Yeah." Jake's hand tightens slightly on your hip. "Thoughts?"
You take a breath and try to organize the swirl of reactions in your chest. Curiosity. Nervousness. Arousal. Trust.
"I have questions," you say finally.
"I'd be worried if you didn't."
"Would you be the one doing the tie? Or would Sunghoon be involved in that part too?"
"I'd do the tie." Jake's voice is firm on this point. "At least for now. Sunghoon knows some basics but he's not experienced enough for suspension work yet. I'd want to train him more before he takes the lead on anything structural." He shifts you slightly in his lap so he can meet your eyes. "I was thinking we could do a few practice sessions first. Just rope work without any sex so he can learn my system and we can all get comfortable with how it feels."
"Practice sessions?"
"Yeah. I'd walk him through the harness step by step and show him the checkpoints and the safety protocols. We'd establish signals and go over circulation checks and all the stuff you and I already do automatically." He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "By the time we actually try the full scene he'll know exactly what he's doing. And you'll know exactly what to expect."
You think about ake teaching Sunghoon the way he taught you. Patient explanations and careful demonstrations. The image is strangely appealing.
"What about during the actual scene?" you ask. "Who's in charge?"
"That's something we'd negotiate beforehand. All three of us. Talk through what everyone wants and where the boundaries are." He pulls the notebook back toward himself and flips to another page. "I started a list of things to discuss. Limits. Preferences. Communication protocols. I figured we could go through it together and then bring Sunghoon in for a proper conversation."
"You made a list."
"I made a very comprehensive list." He shows you the page. It's organized into neat categories with checkboxes beside each item. "I also have a shared document I can send you both so everyone can add their own notes before we meet."
You stare at him. "I love you, but you're such a nerd."
"I'm a nerd who wants to make sure everyone has a good time and no one gets hurt." He kisses your nose. "There's a difference."
"Is there?"
"The difference is that my nerdiness results in very hot and very safe experiences for all involved." He sets the notebook aside and wraps both arms around your waist. "So. What do you say? Do you want to look at the list?"
You glance at the paused video one more time, at the woman passed back and forth like something precious.
"Yeah," you say. "Let's look at the list."
────୨ৎ────
The month leading up to it is almost unbearable.
Jake triple checks the suspension rig he installed in the bedroom. You catch him testing the anchor points at odd hours, hanging from them himself to verify the weight capacity even though he's done the math a dozen times already. His notebook fills with new pages of notes and diagrams.
You find yourself distracted at work, thinking about rope and Jake's hands in the middle of your meetings.
Two days before Jake is on the phone with Sunghoon and you overhear fragments from the kitchen.
"No, I know, but what if she-" A pause. "Right. Right. But have you practiced the circulation checks because-" Another pause. Jake laughs but it sounds nervous. "Yeah okay. Okay. Saturday then."
When he hangs up you pretend to be very interested in the leftovers you're reheating.
"Sunghoon says hi," Jake says from the doorway.
"How's he doing?"
"Good. Fine. Nervous." Jake runs a hand through his hair. "We're all nervous. This is a lot of nervous energy concentrated in one social circle."
"We don't have to do this," you remind him. "If anyone's having second thoughts."
"I'm not having second thoughts." He crosses the kitchen and wraps his arms around you from behind. "I'm having very enthusiastic first thoughts surrounded by completely normal performance anxiety."
"Performance anxiety about sex? Jake, are you sure about this?"
"About suspension sex with my girlfriend and my best friend. There are a lot of variables." He presses his face into your hair. "I just want it to be good for you."
"It will be." You turn in his arms and kiss him softly. "It's you. Plus, you've planned this down to the minute."
"Down to the second actually. I have a timeline."
"Of course you do."
Saturday arrives and you spend the morning cleaning the apartment even though it's already clean. Jake rearranges the rope coils three times. You change outfits twice before settling on something comfortable that's easy to remove.
The doorbell rings at exactly two o'clock, because Sunghoon is also the type to be precisely on time. Jake answers the door and you hear them exchange greetings in the hallway.
Then Sunghoon appears in the living room doorway and everything feels suddenly very real.
He's dressed casually in dark jeans and a soft grey sweater. He looks good. He always looks good, but there's a tension in his shoulders that mirrors your own.
"Hey," he says.
"Hey yourself."
Jake appears behind him with a bottle of wine that Sunghoon apparently brought. "I'm going to open this. Everyone sit. Relax. We have time."
You settle on the couch and Sunghoon takes the armchair across from you.
"So," Sunghoon says. "How are you feeling?"
"Nervous," you admit. "You?"
"Terrified." He smiles and some of the tension breaks. "Jake sent me seventeen instructional videos this week. I had to make flashcards."
"Flashcards?"
He pulls out his phone and shows you actual digital flashcards with diagrams of knots and safety checkpoints. "He quizzed me last night. I got a ninety three percent."
You burst out laughing. "What happened to the other seven percent?"
"I mixed up the names of two friction points. Apparently that's a critical error." He pockets his phone with a rueful grin. "I've been informed there will be a retake."
Jake returns with three glasses of wine and distributes them before settling beside you on the couch. "The friction points are important. If you're going to help me adjust tension during the scene you need to know which attachment I'm referring to."
"I know which attachment you're referring to. I just called it the wrong thing."
"Terminology matters."
"You called it the twisty bit for six months when you were learning."
"That's different. I was self taught."
You sip your wine and watch them bicker. This is familiar territory. Jake and Sunghoon have been friends since college and their dynamic hasn't changed much in all that time.
The conversation drifts to other things. Sunghoon tells a story about his coworker that has Jake doubled over laughing and you chime in with your own workplace horror story. An hour passes without anyone mentioning rope or suspension or the carefully prepared bedroom down the hall.
Jake refills the wine glasses. Sunghoon helps himself to the cheese plate Jake put together earlier. You tuck your feet up under yourself and let the warmth of the afternoon settle around you.
"Oh," Sunghoon says suddenly. "I brought something."
He reaches into his bag and pulls out a small box. Inside is a set of safety shears. They're medical grade, with blunted tips and a hook designed to slide under rope without touching skin.
"I know you have a pair," he says to Jake. "But I wanted my own just in case."
Jake takes the shears and examines them with an approving nod. "Good choice. The blade angle on these is perfect for quick access cuts."
"I watched a review video."
"I saw. You sent me the link."
"I wanted you to know I was taking this seriously."
"I know you are," Jake reaches out and squeezes Sunghoon's shoulder. "Thank you."
Your phone buzzes on the coffee table and you reach for it without thinking. Your elbow catches your wine glass and sends it tipping toward the edge. You lunge to catch it and somehow make everything worse. The glass wobbles and wine splashes across your hand.
"Shit." You grab a napkin and start mopping up the mess. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I'm a disaster."
Jake plucks the glass from your hand before you can do any more damage. His eyes are bright with amusement when he looks at you.
"Careful," he says. His voice drops into something lower. "Do I need to tie you up to keep you out of trouble?"
The words hang in the air.
You freeze with the napkin still pressed to the table. Sunghoon goes very still in his chair. Jake's expression shifts from teasing to something darker as he realizes what he's said.
"I mean," Jake says slowly. He sets the wine glass aside without looking away from you. "That is why we're here."
Sunghoon clears his throat. "Are we doing this now?"
Jake looks at you. The question in his eyes is clear. "That's up to her."
Your heart is pounding. The nervous energy you'd managed to diffuse comes rushing back but it's different now, less anxious and more anticipatory.
"Yeah," you say. Your voice comes out steadier than you expected. "I think we are."
The walk from the living room to the bedroom felt elongated, each step stretching in the quiet apartment. Sunghoon followed a few paces behind, his presence a steady, silent pressure at your back.
The bedroom was exactly as Jake had left it that morning. The thick, padded mats were arranged in a large rectangle beneath the central anchor point in the ceiling: a heavy-duty hardpoint he’d installed last month, tested over and over. His rope kit was laid out on a clean sheet by the foot of the bed, each coil ordered by length and type. The dimmable lights were set to a warm, amber glow, eliminating harsh shadows. It felt like a stage.
“You remember the safewords,” Jake said. It wasn’t a question. He turned to face you both, his professional demeanor settling over him like a familiar coat.
You nodded. “Red for stop everything immediately. Yellow for pause, check in. Green for good, keep going.”
“Okay.” Jake rubbed his hands together, a quick, nervous gesture he immediately stilled. “Then let’s get you ready.”
You undressed yourself, folding your clothes onto the bedroom chair. The air was cool on your skin. Jake approached with the first length of rope. His hands were completely steady now, all his earlier nervous energy channeled into precise, deliberate movement.
He started with the basic wraps around your torso, building the foundation. You closed your eyes, falling into the ritual of it. His murmured instructions, sometimes to you with a soft “Lift your arms, beautiful”, and sometimes to Sunghoon, who had moved to stand nearby.
“See how this lock secures the spine line?” Jake said, his voice calm and instructional. “It’s non-collapsing. The weight pulls here, not on her neck.”
“Got it,” Sunghoon said softly. You felt the weight of his attention on your skin.
The harness took shape. It was more intricate than the one from the week before, with additional lines spiraling around your thighs and cinching above your knees. You felt held in a way that was profoundly secure. When Jake finished the final knot at the small of your back, he gave the main line, the one that would connect to the hardpoint, a firm, testing pull. The entire structure tightened harmoniously around you.
“Color?” Jake asked, his hands resting on your hips.
You took a mental inventory. Your breathing was easy. Your fingers and toes felt warm, no tingling. The pressure was firm and deep, but not painful. “Green.”
He smiled, a quick, bright flash that made him look suddenly young. “Perfect. Sunghoon, safety shears.”
Sunghoon already had them in his hand, the metallic click as he opened them loud in the quiet room. He positioned himself at your side, his eyes scanning the ropes with a focus you recognized from Jake.
Jake attached the primary carabiner to the D-ring on the back of your harness. The metal was cold against your skin for a second. He clipped the other end to the long rope that hung from the ceiling. He took the weight for a moment, leaning back to test the connection. The hardware clicked securely.
“Okay,” he said, mostly to himself. He looked at you, his expression utterly serious. “I’m going to take up the slack now. You’ll feel your weight start to transfer into the harness. It will feel strange. You might feel a moment of panic. That’s normal. Breathe through it. Look at me. We go slow. Ready?”
Your mouth was dry. You nodded.
Jake moved to the mechanical descender device secured to a secondary anchor point on the wall. He wrapped the rope through it, creating a simple pulley system. His hands moved with practiced ease.
“Hand on,” he said to Sunghoon.
Sunghoon stepped closer. His large, warm hand settled flat against the center of your chest, over the ropes.
“On three,” Jake said. “One… two… three.”
He pulled the rope.
The pressure across your chest and thighs increased dramatically. Your feet left the floor. It was less than an inch, maybe two at most. The world tilted. A dizzying lurch of vertigo seized your stomach. Your breath hitched, sharp and loud.
“I’ve got you,” Sunghoon murmured, his hand firm. “Right here. Breathe.”
“Look at me, love,” Jake commanded softly from behind you. “Eyes on me.”
You dragged your gaze from the suddenly-distant floor to Jake’s face. He was watching you intently, his own breathing controlled.
“Color?” he asked.
You swallowed. The harness held. The panic receded, replaced by a vibrating, high-wire tension. You were off the ground. You were suspended. “Yellow,” you whispered.
He stopped pulling immediately. “Talk to me.”
“It’s… heavy. Different.”
“The pressure or the feeling?”
“The feeling.” You flexed your fingers, dangling. “The pressure is fine. It’s just… the not standing.”
“That’s the point,” he said, gentle. “You’re not supposed to stand. You’re supposed to be held. Can I continue? We can stop here.”
You looked at Sunghoon’s hand on your chest, then back at Jake’s focused eyes. You trusted the harness. You trusted the ropes. You trusted them. The initial shock was fading, replaced by a dawning, incredible awareness of your body in space. “Green.”
Jake smiled softly, pulling the rope again.
You rose slowly. Sunghoon kept his hand on you until you were high enough that it slid naturally to your shoulder, then fell away. He moved to stand beside Jake, both of them looking up at you now.
The world reshaped itself. The ceiling felt closer. The bed looked small and far away. You were a puppet with all your strings gathered securely in one place, in Jake’s steady hands.
“How’s the circulation?” Jake asked. “Wiggle your fingers for me.”
You wiggled them. “Good.”
“Toes?”
You curled them. “Good.”
“Any pinch points? Any rope digging in where it shouldn’t?”
You took a slow, deep breath, mentally scanning the map of pressure on your body. “No. It’s… even.”
He let out a long breath. “Okay. I’m going to lock you off here. Just for a minute. Let you get used to the feeling.”
You heard the click of the descender locking. The rope went taut, holding you firmly in place. You hung in the center of the room, suspended in a pool of warm light.
“God,” Sunghoon said, his voice hushed with something like reverence. “Look at her.”
Jake was staring at you, his face awash with a raw, unfiltered pride. Sunghoon’s expression was darker, lips slightly parted.
“You’re incredible,” Jake said. “How does it feel? Honestly.”
Words felt inadequate. You were floating and anchored at once. Vulnerable and powerful. Seen in a way that scraped against your very core. “It feels… real,” you managed. “More real than the ground.”
Jake’s eyes gleamed. He understood.
“Can you spin her?” Sunghoon asked. “Like in the video?”
“Not yet.” Jake shook his head, the instructor re-emerging. “We see how she’s doing first. Then maybe a small test rotation.” He stepped closer, until he was directly below you, looking up. “Would you like that? A slow turn?”
The idea sent a new thrill through you. “Yes.”
“Okay. On my count. It might be disorienting.”
He unlocked the descender with a soft click. He didn’t pull you higher. Instead, he took the weight of the rope in his hands and took a single, slow step to the side.
Your body turned.
It was a subtle shift at first, just a few degrees. Then the world began a graceful, lazy revolution. The bed, the dresser, Sunghoon’s still form, Jake’s upturned face. They all passed before your eyes in a silent, slow-motion carousel. The sensation was surreal and breathtakingly beautiful.
You let your eyes close as the turn continued. The focus shifted inward, to the feeling of the air on your skin, the creak of the rope, the deep, constant embrace of the tie. You had never felt so peacefully powerless.
The rotation stopped. You opened your eyes. Jake and Sunghoon had switched places. Sunghoon was now directly in front of you, closer than before.
“Still green?” Jake asked from your side.
“Green.”
Sunghoon reached out. His fingers didn’t touch you at first. They hovered near your suspended calf, tracing the air just above the intricate spiral of rope. “Can I?” he asked, his eyes finding Jake’s over your shoulder.
“Yes,” Jake said. His voice had gone thicker. “Touch her.”
Sunghoon’s fingers ran a slow, deliberate stroke along the line of rope around your leg. He followed the pattern up your thigh, over the curve of your hip, his touch firm and warm through the hemp. He was examining Jake’s work. His other hand came up, mirroring the path on your other leg. You were caught between his hands, a specimen of perfect craftsmanship.
“The tension is flawless here,” Sunghoon murmured, more to Jake than to you. His thumb pressed into a specific lock under your thigh. “No slack.”
“I know,” Jake said softly. You felt him move behind you. His hands settled on your shoulders, his thumbs rubbing small circles on the exposed skin above the harness. “She makes it easy.”
You hung between them, suspended in more ways than one. Sunghoon’s hands ceased their inspection. They simply rested on you, one on each thigh, his warmth seeping through the ropes. Jake’s breath ghosted over the back of your neck.
“Still green?” Jake whispered, his lips almost touching your ear.
You couldn’t speak. You managed a nod.
Sunghoon’s gaze held yours. His beautiful face was a mask of contained want. “Tell us what you need,” he said, his voice so low it was almost a vibration.
You looked from him to the empty space beside him, to the waiting bed below, and back to his patient eyes. “Don’t put me down.”
Jake let out a soft, approving breath behind you. “Okay,” he murmured, his voice rough. “Then we stay right here.”
He moved away from your back. You heard the soft rustle of him crossing the room, the click of a drawer opening. When he returned, the harsh, rectangular glow of his phone screen illuminated his focused face from below. He held it up, framing you against the dark ceiling.
“This line,” he said, not to you but to the composition. He adjusted his position, snapping a quick photo. The shutter sound was obscenely loud. “The symmetry is perfect. I need to remember this frap.”
The clinical act sent a strange shudder through you. You were his art.
“Just for the portfolio,” Jake muttered, circling you slowly. The camera flashed again, a brief, jarring burst of white light. “The light here is shit. But the structure… god.”
His excitement was palpable, a buzzing energy that charged the air. He was in his head, chasing the perfect shot. Sunghoon, however, remained present in his body, and in yours. His hands began to move again, no longer inspecting the rope’s integrity.
They slid upward, palms warm and broad over the harness binding your hips. His touch was deliberate, possessive in a way that felt different from Jake’s creative fervor. He wasn’t studying the tie anymore. He was tracing the shape of you beneath it.
Your breath hitched. Jake didn’t seem to notice, absorbed in angling for a close-up of the knotwork on your sternum.
“Hold that pose,” Jake instructed, his voice distant.
You weren’t moving. You were suspended, utterly still, but you understood. He meant the expression on your face, the vulnerable arch of your throat. You tried to comply, feeling torn between the two attentions.
Sunghoon’s thumb brushed the lowest edge of the rope corset, just above your pubic bone. The touch was electric. A quiet, claiming pressure. His eyes locked with yours, asking a silent question as his fingers dipped lower, following the natural path the ropes denied.
“Sir,” you whispered.
“The join here is so clean,” Jake said, zooming in on your lower back, oblivious.
Sunghoon’s index finger pressed against you. A shockwave of sensation blurred your vision. It was so intimate, so disconnected from Jake’s clinical photography. You were split in two: a visual subject for one, a physical one for the other.
You gasped, a short, sharp sound.
Jake finally looked up from the screen. He lifted the phone again, but now he was filming a video. The small red recording light glowed like a distant coal.
“Keep going,” Jake said, his voice low and thick. “I want to see how she reacts. For reference.”
The permission, spoken aloud, broke the last pretense. Sunghoon’s finger slipped inside you with a smooth, devastating certainty. The feeling was overwhelming. Your head fell back against the harness lines, a moan trapped in your throat.
Sunghoon worked with devastating precision. His other hand steadied your hip, his thumb stroking your bone. He watched your face, reading every twitch and flutter of your eyelids. He was building a deep and slow rhythm.
“Look at me,” Jake commanded softly from behind the phone.
You forced your eyes open, your gaze unfocused. You found the lens, a black pit reflecting the room’s amber light. You were completely exposed, in every possible way.
“That’s it,” Jake murmured, panning the phone down your body to where Sunghoon’s hand moved. “Just like that. Perfect.”
Sunghoon curled his finger, hitting a spot that made your whole suspended body jolt against the ropes. A ragged cry escaped you. The harness held you tight, leaving you nowhere to flee the sensation. You were pinned by it, by him, by Jake’s watchful eye.
Pleasure began to climb your spine. Your muscles trembled, fighting the ropes and yielding to them all at once.
Sunghoon’s pace remained relentless, his gaze holding yours, pulling you deeper into a place where nothing existed but this suspended, unraveling moment. Jake’s whispered praise was the only other sound, a running commentary on your undoing.
When you finally came, a wordless cry tore from your throat as the harness held you taut through the waves. In the exact moment of your peak, as your inner muscles clenched and fluttered around his fingers, Sunghoon replaced them with himself. He slid into you with one smooth, deep stroke, a perfect invasion timed to the pulsating rhythm of your climax. The fullness was a shocking, grounding contrast to the weightless suspension.
“That’s it,” A ragged groan tore from him, his forehead pressing against the ropes on your back. “Clech around me.”
The phone’s red light vanished. A soft thud followed as Jake dropped it onto the padded mat. He moved into your blurred field of vision, his face now flushed and intent, stripped of its previous artistic detachment. Sunghoon began to move behind you, each thrust rocking your suspended form forward, the ropes translating his power into a gentle, unavoidable sway.
You floated in the aftershocks, your body hypersensitive and utterly pliant. Instinct took over. As Jake stepped close, your gaze dropped and your lips parted, a wordless offering. You leaned forward as much as the harness allowed, your mouth seeking him.
Jake gently cradled your face in his hands, his thumb brushing your lower lip. His voice was a low, tender coo, almost apologetic.
“Ah-ah. Not now, sweet thing.” He held your gaze, his eyes dark and serious. “We can’t both be distracted while you’re like this. Daddy will fuck you afterwards, okay? Be good for Sunghoon.”
He kept his hands on your cheeks, a stabilizing anchor, as Sunghoon established a slow, deep rhythm beneath you. Each drive sent a shudder through the ropes. Your open mouth stayed near Jake, your breath hot against his skin, as you obeyed and simply fell into the relentless motion.
Sunghoon’s rhythm broke, body pressed flush against yours. A low, shuddering groan vibrated through the ropes and into your bones. You felt him pulse as the wet heat spread inside you. He stayed there, buried. His forehead rested between your shoulder blades, breath coming in ragged bursts that misted your skin. The ropes creaked softly with the last of your shared movement.
Sunghoon pulled away gently. You heard him step back on the mats, a soft exhalation escaping his lips.
Jake was already moving, his fingers immediately going to the main carabiner at your back, checking the lock. His eyes tracked the lines of the harness, searching for any shift or danger.
“Just hold still,” he murmured, his voice all business. His hands began a systematic check, starting at your shoulders, tracing each rope, testing every knot.
The sensitivity was overwhelming. Every brush of his fingers over the rope sent echoes through your overspent nerves. The wetness between your thighs felt shocking in the cooled air. You tried to shift, to ease the sudden ache in your shoulders, the deep trembling in your thighs.
“Please,” you whispered, the word scraping out of your dry throat. You weren’t even sure what you were asking for.
Jake’s hand paused on a knot near your ribs. “Don’t squirm,” he said, not harshly, but with absolute authority. “I need to check the integrity. Any movement compromises the structure.”
You forced yourself to go still, but the need was a live wire under your skin. Your eyes found his face, pleading. “Daddy…”
He finished checking the leg ties and finally looked up at you. A small, knowing smile touched his lips. “I know,” he said softly. “Good things come to those who wait and hold perfectly still.”
The waiting was a physical torment. The cool air prickled your sweat-slicked skin, and the ache between your thighs was a throbbing echo of Sunghoon’s finish. You could smell him on you, mixed with the hemp and leather. It was too much. The clinical way Jake was touching the ropes, ignoring the desperate need written all over your face, snapped something inside.
“Daddy, please,” you whined, the word slipping out in a high, strained pitch you barely recognized. You tugged against the harness, not a smart move, making the ropes dig in. “Just fuck me already. I can’t-I need it now. Please!”
Jake’s hand snapped up and gripped your chin, hard. His eyes, finally fully present, locked onto yours with a sharp, warning intensity. “Stop. Moving.” Each word was a chip of ice. “You think I’m just playing with you? One wrong twist, one slipped knot, and you drop. Is that what you want?”
You shook your head minutely in his grip, a fresh wave of shame flushing your cheeks. Sunghoon watched silently, stroking your thigh gently to help ease some of your tension.
"Wow," he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. The teasing lilt in his voice made it clear he was enjoying watching you squirm. "Daddy's mean, isn't he?"
Jake rolled his eyes, releasing your chin as he continued checking the lines with methodical precision. "Then be good," he said, his expression softening, but only a fraction. "Let me finish."
He gave the main line a firm, testing pull, then nodded to himself. "Okay. Okay, baby."
His hands went to your hips. With a gentle, steady pressure, he began to turn you. The world rotated. The rope creaked softly at the anchor point above. Dizziness swam through you, a disorienting carousel of sensation and exposure.
Your front, now, faced Sunghoon. The vulnerable, wet heart of you was offered to Jake. You heard the rustle of Jake’s clothes behind you. A tear escaped, tracking down your cheek. You weren’t sure why you were crying.
Sunghoon's expression shifted, the teasing edge dissolving into something softer. He stepped closer, reaching up to catch the tear with his thumb, his touch feather-light against your cheek.
"Hey," he murmured, his voice low and gentle. "Color, baby. What's your color?"
"Yellow," you whispered, your voice barely there. "I'm... a bit dizzy."
"Okay, okay," Sunghoon soothed immediately. "Let's get you some water."
He disappeared for a moment, returning with a bottle. His hand came to the back of your head, supporting you carefully as he tilted the bottle to your lips, mindful of your suspended position. "Small sips, that's it."
The cool water helped ground you. You took a few steadying breaths.
"Better?" Sunghoon asked softly, his hand still cradling your head.
You nodded. "Green," you confirmed, your voice stronger now.
“See?” Jake’s voice was close, a warm breath against the back of your thigh. His hands smoothed over your hips, possessive and sure. “Patience.”
Then he slid in.
The difference was immediate. He was longer, and the initial slow push ignited a deeper ache somewhere inside you that Sunghoon hadn’t touched. You gasped, a sharp intake of breath that felt ripped from your lungs.
“There,” Jake murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. He held himself there, fully seated and not moving. You felt impossibly full in a different way, a sharp tenderness radiating from that newly discovered spot.
Sunghoon let out a low, appreciative whistle. “Damn, man.”
Jake chuckled, the vibration traveling through where your bodies joined. He nuzzled your neck. “Told you I’d find new places.” His hips rolled, a minuscule, testing shift.
A strangled sound escaped you. You wanted to confront them on the fact that it seemed they made a bet about you, but the small twitches of Jake’s cock inside you kept interrupting your thoughts.
“You feel that?” he breathed into your ear, his tone conversational, almost light. He pulled back just an inch, then sank in again, deliberately grazing that same spot.
This time, your whole body jerked against the ropes. “Fuck! Daddy!”
His name was a plea and a protest. It was too much, an oversensitive overload stacked atop the pleasant ache Sunghoon had left behind. Tears welled again, spurred by sheer physical shock.
“I feel it,” he answered for you. He began to move, establishing a rhythm that was entirely his own.
Sunghoon shifted his weight, crossing his arms. “Her color’s good. Breathing’s okay.” His voice was clinical, a safety check in the midst of your unraveling.
“She’s more than okay,” Jake grunted, his rhythm starting to stutter, losing its precision. His hands gripped your hips hard, pulling you back onto him with a new urgency. “Aren’t you, baby? Tell him.”
You couldn’t form words. Your world had condensed to the dizzying height and the impossible fullness. A high, thin whine was all you could manage.
Jake took it as affirmation. He drove into you faster, his own control fraying. The bed of your fingernails dug into your palms. Your back arched, begging for a relief that was also a torture.
“I’m gonna…” Jake’s sentence ended in a gasp. He slammed home, body going rigid against yours.
He collapsed forward, his weight pressing you deeper into the harness, his sweat-slicked skin sealing against yours.
The ropes took the strain. For a long minute, the only sound was the ragged symphony of your combined breathing. The intense pleasure began to recede, leaving behind a hollow, throbbing sensitivity.
Jake carefully pulled out. He stayed close, his lips against your shoulder blade. “Holy shit,” he whispered, almost to himself.
You went limp in the harness, every muscle exhausted, your mind blissfully blank. You floated there, used and completely spent.
Then Jake’s hands were on the carabiner again. His voice was soft but laced with a dark, possessive pride. “Let’s get you down.”
"I've got her," Sunghoon said, already moving into position. His hands found your waist, steady and sure. "Ready when you are."
Jake worked methodically, releasing the suspension point first. Your weight settled into Sunghoon's arms as Jake lowered you carefully. The shift made you whimper. Everything felt too much and not enough all at once.
"We've got you," Sunghoon murmured against your temple. "You're safe."
Once your feet touched the floor, your legs immediately buckled. Sunghoon caught you fully, lowering you both to the ground as Jake began working on the rope. His fingers were gentle now, methodical as he unwound each careful knot, checking your skin as he went.
"Any numbness? Tingling?" Jake asked, his voice clinical but warm.
You shook your head weakly against Sunghoon's chest.
"Good girl," Jake praised softly. "Just breathe for me."
Sunghoon's hand smoothed up and down your spine in long, soothing strokes while Jake continued his work. The rope fell away piece by piece, and you could feel the ghost of its pressure still imprinted on your skin.
You shifted slightly in Sunghoon's hold, a small unconscious movement toward where Jake knelt behind you. Then again, more insistently, trying to turn despite your exhausted limbs.
Sunghoon huffed out a quiet laugh, knowing. "Yeah, yeah, I know who you want."
There was no hurt in it. This was familiar territory for the three of you, the inevitable pull that always happened after scenes like this. Jake's hands paused in their work, and you could hear the smile in his voice. "Almost done, baby. Two more knots and you're mine."
You made a soft, needy sound that had both of them chuckling quietly.
"She's always like this after," Sunghoon said, almost conversational. "Remember last time? Nearly climbed over me to get to you."
"I remember," Jake murmured. The last of the rope slipped free, and immediately his hands were back on you, massaging gently where the marks bloomed deepest. You practically melted at his touch, the relief of having him close palpable. "Come here, sweetheart."
Sunghoon transferred you carefully into Jake's arms, and you immediately burrowed into his chest with a content sigh.
"There she goes," Sunghoon said fondly, standing. "I'll grab the blanket and water."
You barely registered him leaving, too focused on pressing closer to Jake, your face buried in the crook of his neck.
"I've got you," Jake murmured, his arms tightening around you. "Right here, baby, not going anywhere."
Sunghoon returned with a soft blanket that he draped carefully around your shoulders. He settled nearby, close enough to help but giving you and Jake space.
"Here," Sunghoon said softly, offering the water bottle to Jake rather than trying to guide it to your lips himself.
Jake shifted you slightly in his arms. "Small sips, sweetheart," he coaxed, bringing the bottle to your mouth.
You drank obediently, and Jake's approving hum vibrated against you. His hands never stopped moving, rubbing your arms and checking circulation. "How are you feeling? Talk to me."
Your voice came out scratchy. "Floaty. Good."
"Yeah?" A smile curved Jake's lips. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then your temple, then your cheek. "You were perfect. Absolutely perfect."
Sunghoon unwrapped a piece of chocolate. When he held it out, you turned your head slightly from Jake's chest to accept it directly from him. Your eyes met his as you took it from his fingers, and his soft smile widened.
"There she is," Sunghoon said warmly. "Coming back to us?"
You nodded, the sweetness helping to pull you further back to earth. Jake's hand continued rubbing slow circles on your back, grounding you.
"Good," Jake praised, kissing your hair. "So good for us."
You shifted in Jake's arms, just enough to extend one hand toward Sunghoon. He took it immediately, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.
"Thank you," you mumbled, your voice still soft but clearer now.
"Always," Sunghoon said simply, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "You were incredible, you know that?"
A small, tired smile tugged at your lips. The praise from both of them wrapped around you like the blanket on your shoulders.
"Need anything else?" Sunghoon asked, this time directed at you, now that you were lucid enough to answer. "More water? Food?"
You shook your head, but kept hold of his hand. "Just stay close?"
"Not going anywhere," he promised, settling more comfortably beside you and Jake, his hand still linked with yours.
Jake pressed another kiss to your temple, clearly pleased to see you engaging. "Look at you, being so communicative. I'm proud of you, baby."
“Your rope marks are gorgeous,” Sunghoon observed quietly, almost reverent. “They’ll be pretty for a few hours at least.”
Jake hummed in agreement, his fingers finding the deepest indentations at your wrists and massaging gently. “We’ll put some lotion on them in a bit. Does anything hurt, sweetheart?”
“No,” you mumbled against his neck. “It feels good. You feel good.”
A soft chuckle vibrated through his chest. “Yeah? Just need to be close right now?”
You nodded, your fingers finally finding enough strength to properly grip his shirt. “Always need you after.”
“I know, baby,” Jake murmured, pressing another kiss to your hair. “Your body knows what it needs. And I’m always right here.”
bf!jake who’s a fein for somno. something about using eachother during your most vulnerable state is so hot to him
bf!jake who always has to keep his hands busy. and what better way to do so than playing with your pussy? he doesn’t let up till you’re shaking, begging him to stop too :(
bf!jake who finds no shame in being vocal. i mean why would he when you enjoy it so much? this man will be alllll up in your ear moaning and whimpering omg
bf!jake who can’t help but shove your head down on his cock & tug on your hair when you suck him off. it’s not like he’s trying to be rough with you, your mouth just feels too good around him!
bf!jake who has no problem with letting you take the lead sometimes. he’ll gladly lay there while you fist his cock and ride him, denying him the permission to cum for the nth time.
bf!jake who licks and bites your shoulders and tits for the fun of it. you literally have to smack him away sometimes bc it hurts. and ofc he just laughs bc he can never take anything serious
bf!jake who knows how much you love his hands, so he makes it his mission to use them as much as possible when you fuck. groping your tits, choking you, aaand his personal fav: shoving his fingers down your throat! the way you tear up & gag reminds him of how you struggle to take his cock :(
bf!jake who loves eating you out. it’s purely self-indulgent atp. he’s even eaten you out with his glasses on before, letting them get all foggy for the hell of it.
not to sound like an absolute freak but these pics of jake are sooo 😵💫 like bitchhh ME NEXT ME NEXT
+ this one’s kinda short so i’m open to doing a p2 if anyones interested!
( 양정원 ) In which - Your swore your one-night stand with underground fighter Yang Jungwon would stay a one-time thing. Three weeks later, you find yourself back at the arena, proving you really can’t keep your word.
~1.3K
Warnings / Tags: smut, mature content, dirty talk, one night stand, heavy sexual tension, oral sex ( female rec), rough sex, fingering, cowgirl, cumming inside, street fighter
now playing ‧₊˚♪ : Put On Repeat by Sabrina Claudio
The underground arena still reeks of sweat, blood, and cheap beer when I spot him again.
Three weeks. Twenty-one nights of waking up soaked between my thighs, fingers buried inside myself while I replay every filthy thing Yang Jungwon did to me on his couch. I swore I’d never go back. I lied to myself every single night.
Tonight the crowd is louder, thicker, more feral. I keep my head low, trying to blend in, but my eyes keep drifting to the ring where Jungwon is already warming up. Shirtless.
Same hard chest glistening under the harsh lights, same split lip now healed into a thin white scar. His knuckles are wrapped in fresh tape. When he throws a practice punch, every muscle in his back ripples under sweat-slick skin.
He wins in under two minutes. The other guy hits the mat and stays there. Jungwon doesn’t celebrate. He scans the crowd like he’s hunting. Our eyes lock. My stomach drops.
Fuck.
I turn to leave but the press of bodies is too thick. By the time I reach the exit hallway he’s already there, blocking the door, towel around his neck, chest heaving.
“Running again Pretty?” His voice is low, amused, dangerous.
“I was just—”
“Leaving without a name. Again.” He steps closer. The heat rolling off him is the same. “You came back. That tells me everything.”
I swallow. “I came to watch the fights.”
“You came to watch me.” His gaze drops to my mouth, then lower. “Bet your pussy’s already wet just from seeing me again.”
Heat floods my face.
He doesn’t wait for an answer. His hand wraps around my wrist; gentle but firm and he pulls me down the narrow corridor past the lockers. He leads me outside, across the gravel lot, straight to a beat-up silver trailer parked behind the arena. The door creaks when he opens it. He shoves me inside first, then follows, locking it behind us.
The trailer is small, cramped, and reeks of him; sweat, leather, faint cologne. A narrow bed takes up most of the space. The second the lock clicks, Jungwon spins me around and slams me against the metal wall. His mouth crashes into mine, all teeth and tongue, tasting like copper and salt. His hands shove under my shirt, palms rough on my bare skin, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts before he yanks the hoodie over my head and tosses it aside.
My bra follows. Cool air hits my skin but his mouth is already there, hot and wet, sucking one nipple deep while his hand works the other. He bites down just hard enough to make me gasp.
“Been thinking about this cunt for weeks.” he growls against my lips. “Every night I jerked off remembering how tight you squeezed me. How you begged for my cock like a desperate little whore.”
I moan into his mouth when his fingers find my nipple and pinch. My back arches. He drops to his knees right there on the trailer floor, fingers hooking into my waistband and dragging my leggings and panties down in one rough motion. I step out of them, legs already shaking. Jungwon spreads my thighs with both hands and stares at my pussy like it’s the only thing in the world.
“Fuck, look at you. Already dripping down your thighs.” He drags two fingers through my folds, collects the slick, and holds them up so I can see the shine. “This all for me Pretty?”
I nod, breathless.
He sucks his fingers clean, then leans in and licks a long, slow stripe from my entrance to my clit. My knees buckle. His hands grip my ass, holding me up while his tongue fucks into me; deep, filthy strokes that make obscene wet sounds echo off the metal walls. He sucks my clit between his lips and hums, the vibration shooting straight through me.
I come fast, fingers fisting his hair. Jungwon doesn’t stop. He keeps licking, every drop, until I’m shaking and oversensitive and trying to push him away.
He stands, mouth shiny with my cum, and kisses me again so I can taste myself. While we kiss he shoves his fight shorts down. His cock springs free; thick, veined, already leaking at the tip. He wraps my hand around it and makes me stroke him once, twice.
“Turn around. Hands on the wall.”
I obey, bending over, palms flat against the cool metal. Jungwon kicks my feet apart, lines up, and slams into me in one brutal thrust. I cry out. He’s bigger than I remember, stretching me open so fast it burns. He doesn’t give me time to adjust. He just starts fucking; hard, deep strokes that rattle the trailer walls.
“Still so fucking tight.” he pants. “Three weeks and this pussy still remembers my cock.”
Each thrust punches a moan out of me. The wet slap of skin on skin fills the tiny space. One hand grips my hip hard enough to bruise; the other reaches around and rubs tight circles over my swollen clit.
“Gonna come again?” he taunts. “Gonna soak my cock like a good little slut while people walk past outside?”
I nod frantically. The second orgasm hits harder. My walls clamp down, pulsing around him, and I feel myself gush. Jungwon groans, hips stuttering, but he doesn’t stop. He fucks me straight through it.
When he pulls out I think he’s done, but he spins me around, lifts me onto the narrow bed, and hooks my legs over his shoulders. He slides back in even deeper this angle. My head falls back. He leans down and bites the side of my neck while he pounds into me.
“Want my cum?” he growls. “Want me to fill this greedy cunt again?”
“Yes—fuck—please—”
We’re both breathing hard. Sweat cools on our skin. He tucks himself back into his shorts and helps me find my clothes. My legs are jelly. I have to lean against the bed while I pull my leggings up. Cum still trickles out with every movement, soaking the fabric.
Jungwon watches with dark eyes. “Still don’t want to give me your name?”
I hesitate. The smart answer is no. The honest answer is that I want him to know. I want him to say it while he fucks me again.
“Aria.”
His smile is slow, satisfied. “Aria. Pretty name for a pretty cunt.”
He steps close again, fingers sliding between my legs over the damp leggings. “I fight again next Friday. Same time. You’re coming home with me after. No more running.”
I should say no. Instead I nod.
He kisses me once more; soft this time then opens the trailer door. The night air is cool against my flushed skin. The roar of the crowd still echoes from the main arena.
IN WHICH. . . Sim Jaeyun's just another university student in the morning. But at night, he becomes the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Juggling his secret identity, a romance waiting to bloom and the mysterious evil lurking in the shadows proved to be harder than any equation he encountered, especially when keeping you safe meant putting his biggest secret at risk.
25.8k wc⠀❀⠀spiderman au ♪♪ spiderman! sim jaeyun x fem! reader 𐧘 explicit mature content, made-up villains (re references), jake's lowkey a loser here, cameos of other idols, heejay yaoi, angst with comfort, attempted humor, sexual tension, unprotected sex,, whiny & needy jake, inappropriate usage of webs, happy ending. lmk if i miss anything!
from author: i decided to bring this 15k big baby back from the attic since i'm back in my spiderman phase. expect more spiderman fics sooner or later, i guess.
"Ow! Fuck fuck fuck."
A certain boy hissed, muttering a beautiful string of curses that he's sure his deceased grandmother will have a heart attack if she hears it, as he tripped over his own feet, body growing heavier as every second passed, feeling his strength leaving his body.
It's a miracle he managed to swing his way back home without dropping dead somewhere. Yes, swing, like from one building to another because he isn't your typical university student. Well, to be more specific, he is a university student but once the night falls and when the sun sets, he becomes someone else.
Someone who's the current hot news—Spider-Man himself.
You see, Sim Jaeyun is supposed to live his regular university life to the fullest. Attending long, boring and dull lectures that start at an ungodly hour which is eight in the morning, forcing himself to wake up one hour before to arrive on time. Listening to his professors droning on and on even though it's clear they were reading from the slides, which made him rethink his life decisions.
As a second-year student majoirng in Quantum Physics, which meant he has one more year before he's free from this hellhole. Hellhole referred to his university. It didn't help that whenever he has group projects (much to his introverted self's utter horror and dismay), he ends up being grouped with the most useless, incompetent and infuriating people he meets in his entire life.
It's to no one's surprise that he ended up carrying the entire project on his back with his teammates hogging off his hard work, claiming it as theirs. Whoops, we're getting side-tracked so back to the current situation, where Sim Jaeyun or Jake himself, managed to crawl his way back into his room while clutching the left side of his ribs as he groaned in pain.
"Jake? Are you back? I'm gonna come in, alright?" His roommate called out to him.
"Wait—"
He didn't finish his sentence as his door was pushed open (wow, rude. What happened to waiting for permission before entering?), revealing his roommate standing on the other side of the door. Even when his eyes were squeezed shut, he's able to visualize the shock look on the other's face. A pair of frantic footsteps approached him, slowly helping him up as he was pushed to a sitting position with him leaning against the side of his bed.
"What the fuck happened to you?" Jay asked, concern seeping into his voice. If not for the mask, Jake would had made a show of rolling his eyes.
"Well, hello to you too. How are you? I'm fine, thank you," he sassily answered and if he wasn't injured, Jay would have punched him in the face but this is Jay we're talking about. He's too nice for that.
The older clicked his tongue, removing his mask for him, baring his face to him. Jay swore under his breath at the dried bloodstains on the corners of his lips and the very visible, worrying bruise laying beneath his left eye. Jay paused, furrowing his eyebrows and Jake being Jake, couldn't help but comment on it.
"On a scale of one to ten, how bad is it?" He croaked out, wincing with his body shrinking into himself when Jay delivered a jab to his non-injured side, causing him to nearly double over.
"One day, you're gonna die out there and no one can save you," his friend retorted.
"Alright mister, you'll be a good fortune teller if that actually happens."
Jay shot him a sharp, pointed look. "Not funny. Now undress."
Jake suggestively raised an eyebrow, lips curling up in a teasing smirk. "Woah, at least take me out first."
"Oh, I'll take you out alright. With my fucking fists."
"And they say romance is dead. Ok damn, chill! No need to get all violent!"
"Fuck you and your horny ass, I'm helping you with your shower."
"That sounds gay."
"One more word from you and I'm knocking you out."
After spending the next hour or so playing the role of a patient while getting his injuries treated by a short-temper and rude (don't tell Jay he said that) nurse when he's done showering, Jake was left alone while the other went to prepare dinner for the both of them.
One of the few perks of being roommates with Jay is Jake didn't have to spend money on eating outside food, not like he has money to begin with, considering how broke he is. Jake dragged himself out of the comfort of his room, stomach growling out loud at the strong fragrance of steak and pasta—his favorite dish and the dish Jay makes to cheer him up.
Jake took his seat by the dining table, mouth already drooling as Jay sets the plates down. He wasted no time in digging in, shoving the food down his throat like he hasn't eaten in months. Jay, on the other hand, simply stared at him the entire time.
"Slow down, food's not running away."
Jake rested a hand on his chest after swallowing his mouthful of food, messily and noisily slurping the noodles while ignoring the disgusted look Jay gave him.
"Have I ever told you how much I love you?"
"Die."
~
After having a mouth-watering meal, Jake returned to his room and ungracefully plopped down on his uncomfortable chair, which was a horrible idea, considering how he jumped from his seat. He would make a deep dive to his comfortable bed but alas, he has many assignments to work on. But among all of them, there's an report that needed his attention.
"University is fun, they say," he grumbled under his breath, reluctantly pulling out his reading glasses as he slipped it on, resting it on the bridge of his nose.
He pulled out his laptop and study materials before getting into work, staring at the blinding screen of his half-written report that he had procrastinated on for the past two weeks ever since he got it. In his defense, Jake was busy doing heroes work—saving cats that managed to climb too high up trees, helping elderly men and women to cross the roads, catching pickpockets and once in a while, stopping a group of burglars from robbing a bank.
Just a regular day for an amazing superhero like him.
Jake spent the next two to three hours or so typing, backspacing and typing again while referring to both the Internet and the two thick books he borrowed from the library as reference materials. When he was done, he made a cheering sound, acting like he had accomplished the impossible. By impossible, he meant speed-working on his report on the day before the submission.
Raising his hands above his head, he cracked his fingers, groaning at the evident series of cracking sounds before dropping them. He proofread it two more times before submitting it via the portal and his shoulder sagged with relief once it was done.
"Great, now I can finally sleep," he muttered, covering his mouth when he yawned.
He knew Jay was already asleep since it's close to two in the morning and he stealthily sneaked out of his room, heading to the bathroom to brush his teeth and do his nightly skincare routine. Just because he's a man doesn't mean he's not allowed to take good care of himself. He remembered getting laughed at by a group of girls when they found out he uses skincare.
But the real winner was none other than Jake himself, due to his flawless and perfect skin but that's a story for another time. Once he was done, he returned to his room and made himself on his bed, pulling his sheets up while he decides to spend some quality time scrolling through his phone before sleeping.
His first mistake was opening Instagram for he was instantly blessed (not cursed) with your new post. His breath hitched in his throat, eyes widening until they nearly popped out of its sockets as he stares at the first image that shows your back with you wearing a backless dress. Your hair was tucked over your left shoulder with you not looking at the camera as the picture was getting taken, only showing your side profile.
"Fuck," he cursed, feeling his cock hardening and swelling between his legs. He bit down on his bottom lip as he swiped to the next picture, almost moaning out loud at what he saw next.
This time, you're facing the camera wearing a layer of make-up that made you looked even more gorgeous for his oh so fragile heart to handle. You had your chin resting on the palm of your left hand, looking at the camera with half-lidded eyes and your signature smile on your face. To anyone else, it would looked like a regular picture you simply wanted to post.
To Jake however, he knows you're seducing him and it's working.
Not because he's horrendously down bad for you (he is) or how he wants to fuck you so bad until the only thing you're saying is his name (there's more but he mainly wants to fuck you. He swears on his dead grandmother he loves you for who you are though) and yeah, you get the point.
In conclusion, Sim Jaeyun is a simp for you and will do anything for you, as long as it's reasonable. Jay calls him a whipped fool but does he care? Hell no. Jay always has something to say about him and with how long they have known each other, Jake had learned the ways of tuning him out, the other's words practically bouncing off of him, like how those cartoon characters.
He continued swiping through the remaining fifteen pictures and at every swipe, his cock only hardened until he has no choice but to free himself, groaning at the cool air grazing against him. Wrapping a hand around his cock, he slowly pumped himself. His eyelids fluttered shut, phone falling face-down against his chest as his mind begins washing down the gutter.
He can imagine you between his legs, sucking him off with your pretty and kissable lips wrapped around his tip. Will you struggle to take him in or will you be able to swallow him in one go? Do you have a gag reflex? Jake hopes you don't. Will you let him manhandle you as he pleased, letting him fuck into your mouth while he chase after his climax?
"Shit, (Name)," he whimpered, throwing his head as he continued jerking himself off, still having some shreds of sanity left to mind his volume, not wanting Jay to come barging in unannounced.
All it took was a press down on his leaking tip and the imagination of you looking at him with wide, innocent eyes for him to cum. Hot and white ropes of cum spurted from his cock, staining his thighs and the sheets, much to his disgrace. Jake sighed, dropping his hand as he tucked himself back in before wiping whatever he could with a box of tissue papers.
He threw the dirtied tissue papers into the dustbin placed near his door with great accuracy before heading to the bathroom to wash his hands and then returned to his bed. The boy stares at the ceiling, hands resting by his sides with countless thoughts running through his mind.
"God, I'm so fucked," he muttered, running his clean hand down his face.
~
The next day at the ungodly and definitely unreasonable hour of six in the morning, Jake very much reluctantly dragged himself out of his bed, doing his morning routine and getting dressed with half-opened eyes while resisting the tempting urge to go back to sleep. Jay had left for his morning class (seriously, how can he function like a Normal human being and there's Jake? Must be that sharp jawline of his.), leaving him alone in their shared apartment.
But Jay being Jay, had made a simple breakfast that consists of a hearty and healthy sandwich along with a cup of coffee that had gone cold. Jake didn't care about his cold coffee. He pulled out his phone, taking a picture of the breakfast before opening his chat with the other.
Me:
[1 image attached]
thanks for breakfast bro
My Dada👅:
you're welcome.
also, stop fucking jerking off to (Name), you horny loser.
Me:
god forbid a man from wanting to jerk off to his future wife's pictures.
My Dada👅:
you're one sick individual.
i hope she doesn't return your feelings.
Me:
):
just say you hate me
seen
Jake scoffed, wolfing down the sandwich in no more than six bites (what can he say? a big boy like him has a big appetite and a big di-), chugged the coffee like it's water. He tossed the dirtied plate and cup into the sink, knowing his roommate will be seething with rage when he came back to find them not washed. He returned to his room but instead of stepping in, he stood by the opened doorway and shoot his left hand out, using his spider-webs to pull his bag towards him.
"Perks of being infected by a radioactive spider is being lazy," he muttered, slinging it over his shoulder and stepped out, closing and locking the door behind him as he gets ready to enter hell.
By hell, he meant university.
If there's one thing about getting supernatural abilities, it's the fact that his senses were enhanced and it's all thanks to the stupid spider he got bitten by. After he was bitten, it took him nearly an month to get used to his enhanced senses. It's a wild and unique experience. Being able to hear, see and smell things that are far from him made him felt more like a dog than a human. (if one were to ask him, he'll Gladly be your dog but anyways.)
As time passed, he's able to tune himself to getting used to his senses and as much as he hates to admit it, there are good things that come with it. One of it is allowing him to locate your presence among the sea of students walking pass him. Jake arrived at his first lecture of the day, already dreading for what's to come. He never like attending this particular lecture, mainly because of the professor.
Heck, he wasn't even sure what he had done to the man, who acts like Jake had murdered his family in front of his eyes, when all he did was to arrive late for his lesson. God forbid a boy from waking up late because he was doing…something. (and by something, it refers to him busy wanking off to his future wife.)
The lecture room was half-empty, which became a common sight for Jake. Arriving early means he has the luxury of choosing where to sit. Like the introvert person he is, he chose to sit at the back in the last few vacant rows, head down while trying not to draw any attention to himself. He doesn't have many friends and that's fine with him.
The lesser friends he has, the higher the chance of his secret not being revealed to anyone other than his roommate. He managed to have the whole table to himself, something that made his shoulders sagged with relief as he sat down, taking out his laptop, getting ready to take down notes, if he has enough attention span, that is.
As there were still some time left before the lecture starts, Jake decided to scroll through his phone, his thumb moving out of habit rather than intention. He ended up spacing out while letting the video playing on his phone replay over and over that he's unaware of his surroundings, completely oblivious to how someone is heading his way until—
"Hi, mind if I sit here?"
Now Jake definitely did not squeaked out loud like the scaredy-cat he is. He definitely did not jumped in his seat as well or nearly dropping his phone if not for his quick reflexes (before anyone comes at him, he's born with it. It has nothing to do with him being bitten by a spider, got it?). He snapped his head up at lightning speed that it's a miracle he didn't crack any bones, mouth opening, ready to say something, only for his voice to give up on him.
Why?
Simple, because the person standing right before him is none other than the walking, alive, well and kicking and literal definition of his wet dreams. Someone who he will very much willingly get on his knees, worship the air, the ground and everything else with tears in his eyes and yeah, you get the point.
It's you—his long-time, pathetic and fat crush of six months. How did he met you? Well, in his version (which screams nothing but peak delusions behavior), it was on his very first day of university. He transferred over in the middle of a semester due to him having to move houses since his parents got divorced (not that he was close with his parents in the first place), forcing him to become independent at the youthful and fruitful age of twenty-two.
The only adult he had in his life (no, he doesn't see himself as an responsible adult.) was none other than his sweet, lovely and angel-like aunt. She is everything he could asked for—taking care and treating him like he's her own son, someone who she both raised and gave birth to. In conclusion, his aunt is someone he can count on and he will do anything to make her happy.
"Uh, hello? Anyone there?"
Your confused voice snapped him out of his daze, bringing him back to reality. Jake blinked, nearly making a strangled sound when he realized you're standing closer than he expected, with you looking down at him, eyebrows furrowed and your mesmerizing lips pursed in a thin line. It took all of his self-discipline to maintain eye contact with you, although that proved to be a difficult task, for someone like him, that is.
"S-Sorry, but yeah, you can sit," he croaked out, internally wincing at how weird, weird and very much loser behavior of him of how his voice sounded like.
He wasn't sure whether you were either too nice or oblivious as you sat on his right. With how close you were, he's able to get a faint whiff (he may be a horny loser but he's not a creep. #jakesupportswomenrights.) of your signature perfume, consisting a mixture of Tonka used as the base with vanilla as the middle note and pear as the top note.
Just getting the faintest whiff of it is enough to nearly make him see the pearly white gates of heaven. (although Jay will argue that he deserves to go to hell but Jake disagree.) He nervously swallowed, the sound seemingly loud in the classroom. He did a quick scan, noting how more and more students were entering as more seats are gradually filled up. A small part of him was praying that no one else will be sitting in the same table as him as he wants to be alone with you.
Turns out luck is on his side when the professor came in and placed his heavy laptop down on the desk situated in front of the room. Jake bit down on his bottom lip, resisting the urge to grin like an idiot while he absentmindedly spin his pen that is held between his index and middle fingers, unaware of how your eyes flicked down to his hands before facing the front. The professor had finished setting up, clearing his throat as he address everyone.
"Alright class, I'm sure everyone here is aware that by the end of this module, there's two things you have to submit—a report and your presentation slides. The report will consist forty-percent of your grade while the remaining sixty-percent goes to your slides."
A series of groans was heard from the students. The professor, on the other hand, remained unfazed with the reactions and continued, not even blinking an eye. Jake heard you snort before you leaned in, your elbow brushing against his. The brief and fleeting contact made him stiffened, shoulders tensing up as you whispered under your breath.
"Have you ever wondered if our professor's a human or a robot?" You inquired.
He made the mistake of looking at you, for he was instantly blinded by your beauty, especially with how close you are. Jake has to force himself to keep looking at your eyes and not anywhere else (read: your lips that are glowing underneath the lights. Jeez, he didn't know lips can glow that brightly but the more you know.)
He robotically nodded his head, eyes darting between the droning professor and your amused gaze, feeling his ears turning red.
"I, uh, urm," he stumbled over his words, acting like this is his first time speaking but turns out it's funny enough to elicit a chuckle from you. The sound made his heart fluttered and he swore just from hearing you laughed, he's able to accomplish anything.
Jake awkwardly cleared his throat, index finger scratching his left cheek. "Maybe he's actually an robot disguised as a human? I haven't seen him expressed any emotions for the past three months."
You quirked an eyebrow, humming at his words. "Hm, maybe. That sounds like what you'll see in a movie. Are you someone who prefers watching movies?"
I prefer anything that involves you.
He can imagine his beloved roommate gagging, choking as he pretends to hurl nothing out in the background, like the true Hater he is. Jake shoved the other out of his mind, not wanting to waste his time thinking about someone irrelevant (sorry Jay but he needs to lock in so he can secure a baddie before he enters his final year of university.).
"Y-Yeah, I enjoy watching movies. What about you?" He asked, wanting to slam his head against the table when he stuttered.
"I do too, I like watching action and thriller movies. What's your favorite genres?"
Jake was about to respond but his professor loudly cleared his throat, successfully regaining everyone's attention. Facing the front, he sees the screen had been switched on and is reflecting a frighteningly long list. He doesn't need to look at it again to know what the list stands for.
"Oh, looks like we're partners," you spoke up, squinting your eyes slightly at the screen.
Jake nearly passed out.
Partners? Already? He hasn't even taken you out on a date yet, hasn't find out what are your likes and dislikes, hasn't hold your hands or kissed you yet. Just when he's about to pull up his big boy pants, the professor cut him off, beating him to it.
"You can spend the rest of the time to discuss about the topic of your project and let me know once you've made a decision. You have until the end of the week to finalize your topic. That's all," he ended before taking his seat by the desk.
Some students rose from their seats as they moved across the room to search for their partner. You fully turned to face Jake, one hand on the table while the other is on the back of your chair.
"So, any ideas?" You asked.
Jake blinked, his mind lagging. "H-Huh? About what?"
Instead of looking annoyed that he clearly wasn't listening the entire time, you merely giggled. The sound is downright music to his ears, nearly making him blacked out right there and then.
"About the project, silly. We have to come up with a topic and then work on it. How do you wanna do it?"
He gulps, feeling his shirt sticking onto his skin with how he's currently sweating, despite the fact he's seated directly under the air-conditioner.
"We can go with Quantum field theory?" He proposed.
"Sounds good to me. Do you wanna work on the report or slides first? Or are we doing both at the same time?" You asked another question, nodding along and of course you're smart. Of course you're someone who knows her stuff well.
God, you're so hot. Jake needs to have a passionate and intense make-out session with you right now, in front of everyone before he loses his mind. Maybe sneak in a little tongue action and hopefully if he plays his cards right (he will), he might be lucky enough to eat you out. But before that, he needs to get his A-game together or he might kill himself in front of everyone to change the trajectory of their lives.
Forcefully bringing himself back to reality and praying he don't popped a boner right in front of you, Jake plastered a what he hoped is an reassuring and the most convincing smile he has, pulling himself together to remain as practical as possible. Because unlike his fellow classmates, he cares about his grades and future so let him be.
"Hm, I think we can work on the report first. When we're halfway through then we work on the slides. We can use the report to prepare the slides," he pointed out.
You slowly nodded, realization flickering across your face. "You're right, killing two birds with one stone. Efficiency at its best. I like it."
"G-Great, then that's settled…"
His voice trailed off, unsure of how to continue the conversation. But hey, at least he didn't make a fool of himself and he didn't pop a boner too, so he did a splendid job! Before he could say anything, you had took the reins as you pulled out your phone, tapping something before handing your device to him.
"Here, put in your number," you said.
His eyes darted between your phone and the expectant look on your face. His throat tightened, unable to utter a single word with an invisible loading logo floating above his head.
"W-What?" He croaked out.
You merely blinked, pushing your phone towards him. "It's for the project, so I can contact you and vice versa for us to meet somewhere and work on it."
His face flushed red within seconds, feeling very much like a child who had made a fool of himself in front of his classmates. Except this is even worse. He made a fool in front of you—his secret crush (well, not really but he likes to think he's good at keeping it subtle.).
"Oh, right, just lemme uh, key in my number," he mumbled, accepting your phone as he punched in a series of eight digits with trembling fingers before handing it back to you, causing your fingers to brush against one another.
it was like time had paused, everything around him freezing mid-action. Somehow, it made him feels like he's in some sort of Kdrama, with the exact scene of both the male and female leads making contact for the first time, along with the dramatic and slow-mo of the romantic music playing in the background.
Jake wished he has the ability to stop time forever, for he could spend the rest of his life staring into your eyes but alas, the need to blink made you broke the eye contact. You tucked your phone back into your bag and the bell ring, indicating that classes was over. Students wasted no time in leaving, haphazardly shoving their things into their bags, as if they will get punished if they don't packed up fast enough.
You had finished packing, already rising from your seat as you slung your bag over your left shoulder. (Well would you look at that, both of you use the same shoulder to carry your bag. This surely must be fate! Anyone who disagrees can go and kill themselves! He's kidding, maybe.) You were about to leave when you stopped, as if you remembered something or in this case, a certain someone, in this case.
"I'll see you around, Jake," you said, smiling at him (holy fuck, is that a fucking angel sent from heaven to bless him?) before leaving without waiting for his response.
Jake sat there, butt glued to the seat like there's superglue preventing him from standing. He couldn't help but giggle like a high school girl as he replayed the last sentence you said. He never knew he love hearing how his name sounds coming from someone else's mouth until now. He was all giddy and light-hearted as he walked out of the room, heading to the cafeteria where Jay and the rest of their mutual friends were, waiting for him.
"You're doing it again."
Jake flinched, ripping his eyes away from your figure that was located a few feet away, only to make eye contact with a knowing and pointed look on the other boy's face.
"Doing what?" He asked, earning an amused snort from his friend.
Sunghoon side eyed him while taking another bite of his food before answering him. "Dude, you're literally drooling over her. I know we all called you a simp but you seriously got it bad. And by bad, I mean really bad. Like horrendously down bad, you know what I'm saying? Like a moth to a flame, that kind of bad and—"
"Alright, I get it, damn," Jake interrupted, cutting him off before he could go on forever and ever.
His face and ears turned a light shade of red as he kicked him in the shins underneath the table, unable to hold back the smirk that stretched across his face at how Sunghoon hissed in pain. His two other friends—Jay and Heeseung who sat at the opposite side of the table shared a glance between the two of themselves.
Jake caught it, thanks to his enhanced sight.
"Alright, spill," he demands, catching the way they flinched.
"Spill what? We're not hiding anything that's definitely not related to a party happening," Heeseung rambled, eyes widening in horror right after the words left his mouth.
Jake and Sunghoon flashed him matching deadpanned looks. Jay, on the other hand, rolled his eyes as he muttered something under his breath. Something that strangely sounds like "dumbass." (Yup, Jake can one-hundred confirm that's what his roommate said, thanks to his hearing. It sure comes in handy, although he's not sure if he should be listening in on gossip but hey, free tea is free tea.)
He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. "What party?"
Heeseung opened and closed his mouth, sending a help signal to Jay, who shrugged his shoulders and he continued.
"Oh, you know, it's one of those other regular parties that's held every week, nothing new," the student replied but with such a vague response, it only made Jake further narrowed his eyes.
"Hyung, you're hiding something," he pointed about, sensing how his friend's heartbeat beat faster at his comment, knowing he had hits bullseye.
"Hiding what?" Heeseung answered without missing a beat, which only made it all the more suspicious.
All it took for him to crack was Jake skeptically raising an eyebrow for the other to finally spill the beans, shoulders sagging as he mentally waved a white flag in the air.
"It's (Name)'s birthday party and everyone on campus is invited."
Oh.
Oh.
OH!
"Well, I think we've lost him," Jay commented, pointing his chopsticks at him before returning to his home-cooked meal, because obviously his food tastes better than whatever the cafeteria serves them.
And obviously he made one for his boyfriend—Lee Heeseung, who flashed his roommate the most sickening and gag-worthy lovesick look Jake had seen in his entire life. (yes, they've been dating for two years and are still going strong. Jake is the victim for walking in on the two of them sucking one another's faces once and until now, he can still imagine Heeseung's hand shoved into Jay's pants—alright, that's enough imagination for the day. Wikihow to erase his memories, please and thank you.)
Sunghoon, who had long finished his food, rolled his eyes as he chugged down his bottle of protein shake he made. (curse him, his good looks and his god body build and everything else. Curse him and his bloodline, #sorrynotsorry.)
"We've already lost him after he talked to her. Don't tell me you guys don't remember their first interaction."
Jake hissed. "Sunghoon!"
But as expected, he was brushed aside as his friends ganged up on him. Wow, talk about top ten betrayals. Jay's eyes lit up as the other's words had ignited a certain memory that became ancient history and an inside joke for their group.
"Oh, you mean that time when (Name)'s asked by the principal to show Jake around the school?" He clarified and Sunghoon eagerly nodded his head, eyes glowing and Jake swears the only times he looked alive is when they are making fun of him.
"Yes, that! We saw it too, how Jake tripped over air and how he nearly passed out when she touched his shoulder. Bro looks like he's about to ascend or vibrate on the spot with how nervous he was," Sunghoon wheezed out, unable to hold back his laughter, which made the couple laughed as well, everyone except Jake, who resorted to scowling while glaring daggers at everyone.
"I hate you guys," he sighed but the way his lips curved up in a faint smile says otherwise.
"Love you too," Sunghoon replied, reaching out to ruffle his hair and Jake was quick to slap his hand away.
Jake wouldn't admit it out loud but he truly cherished his friends a lot and is glad to be able to have them in his life. But as the saying goes, peace doesn't last forever…
~
"Oh damn, you really meant it when you said everyone on campus is invited," Jake spoke up as he and his friends stood at the pathway leading to your private property. (Of course you're rich too. Before anyone come at his head, he doesn't care if you're broke or filthy rich. He loves you for your personality! And maybe how jaw-dropping gorgeous you look. Especially when you wore that one skirt that sent blood down to his dick—)
"Do you take me for a liar?" Heeseung gaped, offended.
"Well, yes. Considering you've lied to me and everyone else more than ten times," the younger retorted.
"I would ask you to name them but I think we'll be here for the whole day. So, let's just go in," Heeseung sighed, dismissively waving off his words with a flick of his wrist, like the gay man he is. (#Jakesupportsgayrights too. He's just someone who hates seeing couples that isn't him and you being happy. Sue him.)
Jake lets he take the lead as they walked up the pathway. Every step brought them closer to the front door with the muffled music getting louder and louder. Heeseung didn't even get the chance to knock. All he did was to raise his hand that's curled into a fist before it was abruptly slammed open. Thankfully, Jay was quick to pull him out of the way, preventing his beloved boyfriend from eating nothing but stale wood. (Although, Jake does want to see that happen, for shits and giggles, of course.)
A student half-stumbled and half-walked out, body swaying side to side. Jake scrunched his nose at the overwhelming sour stench of beer oozing from his body. Two people—who he assumed must be his friends, were quick to steady him before he could face-plant into the ground as they bring him somewhere safe, leaving the door open.
The four of them shared a look among themselves before stepping in. Jake grimaced the moment he entered, already hating the sheer humidity in the air that kissed his skin. He scanned the people around him, noting how most were either piss-drunk or still sober, no in-between. He scrunched his nose, disgusted to see some shamelessly making out with one another in the corners, thinking no one will be able to see them.
"Hey, guys…"
He called out, only for his voice to trail off when he realized none of his friends were near him anymore, leaving him alone to fend for himself. In a huge crowd of people who he barely knew nor care to know them. Sighing, Jake fiddled with the hem of the leather jacket he was forced to wear as he pushed his way through, not bothering to even apologize since they won't be able to hear him in the first place.
He heaved a sigh of relief when he reached a place in the living room, finally able to breathe without feeling suffocated. (Seriously, how big is your place? And what does your parents do for a living? He needs to know so he can take notes on how to impress you and make you say yes.)
"Jake? Is that you?"
Oh great. Of course you're here.
Silly him, since you're the host and all. Nothing wrong for you to be freely roaming around, since you do live here, after all. Jake turned, ready to reply, maybe greet you or something but what he saw made his jaw dropped. He turned as still as a statue, hands awkwardly resting by his sides, unable to look away, blinked or even breathed as you approach him with a worried look on your face.
To say you are beautiful is the biggest understatement.
No words can describe how stunning, amazing and gorgeous you looked, wearing a party black dress that reached your thighs. It perfectly hugged your body, showing off your figure with both of your hair and make-up done, further accentuating your features. You held a plastic red cup in your left hand that Jake knows for a fact it's mixed with lots of different drinks until it's beyond drinkable.
His brain malfunctioned when you stopped before him, tilting your head to the side. "You alright?"
"Y-Yup! Just peachy," he squeaked out, groaning once it hits him of what he said, feeling embarrassed that he had said just peachy out loud, like the loser he is and not as a regular human being.
Well, he wasn't a regular human being the moment he took on the responsibility of being a superhero. You merely laughed, not making fun of him but rather, you find his reactions adorable. To be specific, the way he reacts around you is cute and funny and perhaps one day, you might pluck up the courage to tell him how you feel.
You eyed him as you nodded your head, turning to lean your back against the smooth edge of the marbled counter-top behind you. You stood so close to him that he could feel the heat emitted from you, even through the obstacles of his clothes. He didn't know he started to fiddle with his fingers—something he does whenever he's feeling nervous or anxious, which was why he was caught off-guard when you grabbed his hand.
His eyes flew down, looking at how your hands rested above his. It's a huge contrast—yours is all clean and smooth like butter, dainty and it just screams you. His, on the other hand, his knuckles were calloused from him fighting off bad guys, fingers long, thick and slender with his veins slightly visible underneath the dimly-lighted lights. (Hand holding before kissing? That's a win for him.)
"..What are you doing?" He asked, surprised with how even and steady his voice was.
"Nothing, just admiring your hands. You have really nice hands for someone who takes Quantum Physics," you said, eyes focused on your fingers tracing his knuckles, unaware of how your words sent shivers down his spine.
"Right.. I guess going to the gym helps," he smoothly lied through his teeth. Thankfully, Sunghoon wasn't near him. Because if he was, he knew the younger will laughed his ass off and expose him in the process.
You looked up, something akin to amusement flickered in your eyes. "You gym?"
He nervously swallowed. "Uh, if going there twice or thrice a month counts, then yea."
You laughed, nodding and withdrew your hand, much to his hidden dismay. "You're funny. So, what brings someone like you over?"
"What do you mean?"
You shot him a pointed look. "I saw you the moment you and your friends came in. Not gonna lie, I didn't know it's you until I got a closer look. You clean up quite well, Jakey."
What the fuck.
He nearly came in his pants right there and then, senses zoning in on the nickname you gave him. His Adam's Apple bobbed up and down, tongue darting out to lick at his bottom lip. He made a mental note to thank Sunghoon for helping him with his outfit, for he initially planned on wearing something comfortable to the party. But one look at him from the other was enough for Sunghoon to assist him in his quote-unquote "lack of fashion sense." (god forbid him for choosing comfort over fashion.)
He ended up wearing a black striped shirt underneath with a black leather jacket donned over it, along with a pair of comfortable, loose and gray pants. To top the look off, he wore a total of four rings and was forced to wear a pair of sunglasses too, even though it's at night and he will be indoors for most of the time.
"Thanks, you too," he complimented you and at your gaze, he stammered, not wanting to create any misunderstanding, "I mean! You look uh, beautiful! Like gorgeous, yeah…"
God please just kill me.
He closed his eyes, resisting the urge to bash his head against the nearest wall. If it was any other girl, they would have shot him a pointed look and walked away. But you, however, giggled and patted his shoulder. He swore he's able to feel your lingering touch even when you dropped your hand.
"Thanks, Jakey. Oh, you don't mind me calling you that, do you?" You asked, furrowing your eyebrows slightly.
He was quick to shake his head. "Of course not! You can call me anything you want." (One good example will be the name baby but under no pressure of course…)
You raised an eyebrow. "Anything?"
"Ye—"
BOOM!
He didn't get to finish his sentence as the floor beneath him shook out of nowhere. People screamed, startled as they flailed their hands about to grab the nearest things to support themselves before they could fall over. Jake held onto the counter-top behind him. When he saw how you about to fall over, his body moved before his mind processed it.
He thrusted out his left hand, sneakily shooting a small, thin but strong layer of webs to the side of your hips, using it to pull you towards him. You fell into him, letting out a surprised "oof" as your hands was awkwardly resting on his sturdy shoulders. He's quick to follow suit, wrapping an arm around your waist as he held you firmly against him.
Normally, he would be in a flustered mess but his senses were on high alert. He felt the all-too familiar faint, buzzing sensation in the back of his mind, how goosebumps formed on his skin and how he felt all tingly. He knew all these signs way too well and all of them spells nothing but trouble for him.
Jake cursed in his mind, eyes flicking down to you, noting your worried look and his knight in shining armor came in the form of Jay, who seemed to be on the same wavelength as him.
"Jay, take care of (Name) for me," he said, gently shoving you towards his roommate, who nodded in agreement.
You glanced back at him as Jay starts to usher you out of the kitchen. "Wait, but what about you?"
Jake smiled—a smile so different from his usual smiles that it made you stopped for a second, despite the chaos happening around you with people shoving one another aside as they were rushing out to safety.
"Don't worry, I'll be fine."
~
Jake is not fine.
Well, he doesn't know whether being thrown around like a ragdoll, followed by him crashing into a few cars parked nearby (he hoped these unfortunate victims have car insurance because buying a car in this economy isn't cheap at all.) and the list goes on.
He gave himself a pat on the back for wearing his suit underneath his outfit. Yes, it's hot and uncomfortable but better to be safe than sorry, even though he wasn't expecting to be saving the world tonight.
What he thought was just another villain trying to cause chaos in the city he lived in turned out to be something bigger and something far more evil and sinister than he had ever faced. The villain is the toughest he had fought and encountered in his entire life. No matter what he does—throwing a barrage of punches and kicks, flinging even nearby things that ranges from lampposts to even a car itself, all of his efforts proved to be futile.
The villain simply didn't budge an inch or even has the slightest scratch on him. All he did was stare down at Jake, his large and tall frame effortlessly towering over his shorter figure. The villain moved, drawing his right arm back to deliver a strong punch that punched the air out of his lungs. He made the mistake of defending himself instead of moving out of the way, thinking he can take the hit.
Only for him to fly backwards until he crashed into a nearby car with the alarms going off, wailing loudly as the side was brutally crushed due to the impact.
"Damn, you pack quite a punch. You gym often?"
He groaned, shakily dragging himself up as he held onto his right side that's already bleeding from a major and newly-created gaping wound he received as a gift from his new fan. Wow, how generous of him. The villain worn a long trench coat with a fedora hat on his head, giving him a gentlemen appearance but his brute, raw strength says otherwise.
There's nothing special about him. No abilities or superpowers. It's just him and his fists. And somehow, that alone makes him all the more dangerous.
This isn't good. I can't defeat him here and if this drags out any longer, more innocent people are gonna get involved. I need to move to another spot.
Jake cursed, eyes darting around, trying to think of another plan. A movement caught his attention and he snapped his head forward, shoulders tensed while bracing himself for the villain's next attack. Instead of lunging at him, he simply turned and walked away, acting like nothing happened, like he didn't just cause chaos and destruction to his surroundings.
He didn't dare to move, wanting to ensure it wasn't a feint and only when the villain was completely out of his sight was when his muscles loosened. His knees buckled as he walked forward at a slow, painful pace. Every step he took sends immense pain through his body, eliciting a pained noise from him.
His knees buckled, on the verge of giving up on him. He would have face-planted into the hard, solid ground if not for someone catching him in the nick of time. The last thing he heard was a familiar voice shouting his name before everything blacked out, fading into darkness.
~
"Wait, are we seriously leaving him behind!?"
You asked, eyes widened in disbelief as you stepped out of your house. Some of the students had long left, managing to leave in one piece while some who had stayed behind, were still panicking. Long story short, it's a huge mess with people running everywhere, unable to think straight. Jay remained silent, lips pursed in a thin line with him pointedly looking forward as he continued dragging you with him, showing no signs of stopping.
You struggled in his grasp, attempting to free yourself but it's useless as his strength completely overwhelm yours. Jay brought you over to where Heeseung and Sunghoon are. Heeseung had been frantically trying to call someone while Sunghoon was searching for someone among the crowd, only for him to relax when his eyes landed on your approaching figures. He nudged Heeseung, pointing at the two of you and relief flickered across his face.
"Oh thank fucking god you're okay. Where's Jake?" Heeseung heaved a sigh of relief, eagerly returning his boyfriend's hug before turning to you, furrowing his eyebrows when he couldn't see him.
"He's—"
"Fine. His aunt called him and he needs to go," Jay cuts you off, ignoring the confused look you shot him.
Somehow, both Heeseung and Sunghoon accepted it easily without questioning him but you didn't. However, you didn't call it out in front of everyone, not wanting to cause a commotion in public. You can only prayed that he will be fine and still alive, not dead in a ditch or somewhere else.
"What do we do? Should we call the police?" You asked, starting to pace back and forth, unable to control your nerves.
"Look! It's Spider-Man!" Someone cried out, pointing at a figure standing on top of your house and all heads, with yours included, turned, following the direction of them pointing.
You watched from where you stood, in both amazement and awe as the superhero swung from your rooftop to somewhere else. You could only assumed they must have found the source behind the sudden earthquake, or whatever that was responsible for this.
"Come on, we should move somewhere safe. Unless you want to be crushed to death by flying rocks or cars," Sunghoon joked but you were able to detect the faint fear in his voice. All of you nodded and were already moving but Jay didn't follow.
His boyfriend stiffened, an unreadable expression appearing on his face before it's gone when he blinked, like he had regained his composure or remembered something. Jay wordlessly turned around, heading off in the opposite direction. Heeseung kept calling out to him but Jay turned a deaf ear to him, leaving the three of you stunned and dumbfounded by his sudden action.
"…Where is he going?" Heeseung asked, wide-eyed in shock, looking very much like a deer caught in headlights.
"Don't know, but from the looks of it, bro's on a mission so let's just leave him be."
Sunghoon shrugged his shoulder, unbothered by the fact that one of his friends is wandering around, out in the open where something serious is happening nearby. Something where no one knows what the hell is going on too. Heeseung gaped, wanting to go after him but was held back by Sunghoon.
The younger forcefully directed him to keep walking. Not wanting to be left alone, you were quick to trail after them, occasionally glancing back to check for any signs of Jake, like he will popped out of nowhere, still looking alive and kicking and hopefully not dead somewhere. But when there is no sign of him, you could only sighed while praying that he will be safe and sound, unaware of the danger that has been hiding in the shadows, waiting for the perfect time to strike.
~
Jake woke up to find himself in Jay's room.
Letting out a surprised and horrified gasp, he shot up from the bed, like he was struck by lightning, only for him to bend over as he shrink into himself, hands clutching at his body with him trembling in pain. He was too busy suffering from the one-sided fight he had to register the sound of a door opening and closing, followed by his roommate sitting on the edge of the bed, the mattress sinking due to his weight.
"You're lucky I know how to stitch a wound back or you would've bled to death," Jay retorted.
He leaned to the side, grabbed the bed table—the very same table he got as a gift from Heeseung, who had the idea of making his boyfriend breakfast in bed, provided if he doesn't burn the kitchen down. (Jake had seen and personally tasted Heeseung's cooking, only to spend the next three to four hours holed up in the toilet. Safe to say, he never dares to try it again. Unless he's being supervised by Jay. Jake swore he nearly saw Jesus on that day too.)
Jake blinked, looking down to see his beloved roommate had oh so generously made him a simple but heartfelt bowl of chicken porridge. It's a simple dish but hey, it's the thought that counts and besides, he's starving. He didn't care if it's still hot, how it's straight out of the pot or how there's still steam rising from the bowl, devouring it like he's being timed.
Jay simply watched him, both amused and relieved. It was only when he finished his meal was when the older spoke up, in a rare grim tone.
"(Name) was looking for you earlier," he said.
Jake winced, not liking where this conversation was going. "What did you say?"
"Told her your aunt called you and said she needs you to do something for her," he muttered under his breath and Jake couldn't helped but barked out a laugh.
"Seriously? Out of everything you can thought of, you went with that?" Jake wheezed through his laughter, weakly raising his hands to defend himself when Jay reached across the table to whack him.
"Hey, this is abuse! I'm an injured person!"
"Oh really? Looks like you're in tip-top condition with how you're fucking laughing your ass off," Jay retorted, dropping his hands with a long, heavy sigh.
"Jake, tell me what happened," he demanded and the sudden switch of his tone made the superhero flinched slightly, averting his eyes to the side. Seeing this, Jay narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms.
"Sim Jaeyun."
"God, not the full government name, please. You sound like my dad when he's disappointed in me," he lamented.
"Not the time, Jake. Can you please be serious for once?" Jay threw him a mild irritated look and was quick to cut him off.
"If you make another joke, I will strangle you to death."
"Ooh, kinky."
Jay lunged at him and Jake yelped, terrified as he pressed himself against the headboard with him hugging his second pillow against his chest.
"Alright, fine! Calm down!" He exclaimed, raising his hands in mock surrender. (Yup, this is your local superhero, by the way. Just a boy who has too much responsibilities on his shoulders and is also scared of his roommate. But who wouldn't be? Like, come on, this is Jay we're talking about. Jay who won't hesitate to throw hands, even if he's going to lose.)
"I swear, you piss me off sometimes," Jay muttered under his breath as he sat back down, now crossing his legs as he leaned against the footboard, hands resting on his lap.
"Well, go on then. I'm listening."
Jake sighed, fiddling with his fingers as his teeth sank into his bottom lip.
"It's a one-sided fight. But, I'm not sure if you can even call it a fight in the first place. Nothing I did is effective," he paused for a moment, feeling his roommate's attentive gaze still fixated on him, "it's like I'm fighting a fucking punching bag."
"I see, then is there anything interesting about this villain? Like something in particular that stood out to you?" Jay inquired.
Jake thinks back to the fight, deep in thought for a few moments before responding. "Yeah, he doesn't look human. He looks more like an experiment, manmade and a bio-weapon."
Jay whistled, sounding impressed with the glint in his eyes. "Damn, looks like you found a tough one to deal with, Spidey boy."
Jake made a face at the stupid nickname. "Don't call me that."
"Anyways," Jay continued, ignoring his remark as he waved off his words, "whatever this… thing or person, if you consider him as one, sounds hella dangerous. And since the police here are nothing but a bunch of lazy fucks and pussies, it's up to you to stop him."
"Wow thanks for the prep talk, bro. I feel so motivated now," Jake deadpanned. He visibly flinched when Jay reached over and this time, he did whacked him on the shoulder, hard.
"OW! What the fuck!?"
"That's for giving me some attitude when I'm trying to be nice here," his roommate chided him, just like how a mom would scold her child for causing a nuisance in public. (You know what, Jake kinda understands Heeseung now. Especially how mother-like Jay can be sometimes. Please don't tell him he said that as he's still too young to die, thank you.)
"God forbid a man from trying to be jolly."
"…Remind me why I saved you again?"
"Because you love me."
"Die."
~
The weekend passed in a blink of an eye and much to every students' dismay, it's Monday again.
You arrived at campus thirty minutes before your first lecture begins, giving you ample time to walk over. One thing you disliked is how annoyingly big your university is, making traveling from one lecture to another a pain in the ass. Not to mention, it takes about ten whole minutes to walk from one building to another, much to your frustration but alas, what can you do?
You were talking down the crowded hallway, squeezing your way through the sea of people who lacks social awareness. Like seriously, why stand in the middle and blocked everyone else's paths when they're trying to get their destinations. You only took another six more steps before someone called out your name.
You came to a stop, eyes closing as you mentally prepared yourself for the incoming headache. You already knew who it was before turning around. Your hand tightened on the strap of your bag, mentally praying he will leave you alone. Turns out luck wasn't on your side today, as he appeared before you, flashing you his signature annoying and charming smile. A smile that does nothing but to get on your nerves.
"What do you want?" You deadpanned, not caring if you came off ruder than you intended.
"Woah, looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Chill, (Name), I'm just here to—"
"—to ask me out again? My answer remains the same. No means no, Minjun," you cut him off, voice firm, harsh and unwavering.
Minjun didn't back down. Instead, he took your words as a challenge with how he stepped closer, paying your invisible boundary no mind, something that you deeply disliked about men. Well, all men except Jake should just be wiped off earth. You stood your ground as your mother didn't carry you for nine months for you to emerge as a fucking pussy, choosing to glare at him. If looks could kill, he would have dropped dead right there and then.
"C'mon, just one date? It's not like I'm asking for something ridiculous," he pleaded, still being persistent, like the annoying person he is.
"I said—"
"She already said no. Are you deaf?"
A voice interrupted your short conversation as someone stepped in, protectively standing in front of you while purposely blocking you off from Minjun's sight. You blinked, surprised to see it was none other than Jake himself. His shoulders are broad enough to completely hide you from the other's prying eyes and you had to look around him.
From where you stood, you weren't able to see Jake's facial expression but whatever it was, it seemed to have convey the message to Minjun. For he immediately backed down, muttering something inaudible under his breath before walking away, head down while everyone around you paid you no mind.
"You alright?"
Jake asked, voice softer—a huge contrast to how he was a few seconds ago as he fully turned to face you. You caught the way his eyes scanned you from head to toe, like he's checking for any signs of injuries and when there was none, his shoulders sagged in relief. That's when you noticed something on his left cheek—a minor wound, and you gasped. z
"What happened to you?" You questioned him.
"Huh?"
You wordlessly pointed at your left cheek and Jake raised his hand, fingers grazing his own and realization flickered across his face.
"Oh, it's nothing. Just a scratch," he waved off your concern but you furrowed your eyebrows.
"That looks quite serious. How did you get it? Was it after the party?" You bombarded him with questions, not giving him time or room to breathe.
Jake had to place his hand on your shoulder to stop you, which did the trick, considering how you went silent almost immediately.
"Woah, slow down. I tried to pat a stray cat on the way home and it didn't like me, so that's how I got it," he briefly explained, the words smoothly flowing from his lips, like he's telling the truth.
You stared and squinted your eyes at him. "You're telling the truth, right?"
He blinked once but otherwise, managed to keep his cool without giving himself away. "No, do you think I'm lying? I'm not a good liar, (Name). You can ask Jay to see if I'm lying or not."
You eyed him for a few seconds longer before dropping it. "…Fine, if you say so. Wonder what you've done to the cat for you to get that. Maybe it doesn't like you."
The other lets out a fake and dramatic gasp, resting a hand on his chest. "After I tried to feed it treats? The audacity."
You rolled your eyes as a faint smile stretched across your face, already walking past him with him easily matching your pace. Both of you are starting the day off by being in the same class—the very same class that the professor had decided to make it everyone's business by assigning students a forty-percent report and sixty-percent slides.
The two of you chatted about a range of different topics, like you've known one another way longer despite you only knowing his name and face from the first time you saw him. When you arrived at the lecture room, you chose to sit together as you pulled out your materials. The professor arrived shortly, clearing his throat to gather the class's attention.
"Alright everyone, there won't be any lessons for today. Instead, please use the time wisely to work on the project. Come to me if you have any questions," he informed.
Some began moving to sit with their partners, being the diligent, obedient and hard-working students they are. Some, on the other hand, chose to spend the time by talking with their friends, clearly having no intentions of working on it. The two of you exchanged a glance before opening your laptops at the same time.
"I've actually done some research regarding Quantum field theory, but I'm not confident in them," you spoke up, eyes focused on the screen as you opened the document you were working on yesterday night, unaware of the double-back from your partner.
"You did? Mind if I take a look?" Jake asked and you shook your head, pushing your laptop towards him.
Your breath hitched when he pulled his chair closer to yours as he leaned over slightly, causing your shoulders to brush against one another. You didn't dare to move, not wanting to distract him or the current atmosphere. He was so close that you could get a faint whiff of his cologne he sprayed on himself.
It's a mixture of cardamom, toffee accords and amber—a masculine scent with staying powder, taking you by surprise as you were expecting something more softer around the edges. But you didn't mind it.
You took the chance to admire his side-profile—his sharp jawline, his long eyelashes that will make girls jealous, his mesmerizing eyes that never failed to take your breath and heart away, eyes that never betrayed his true feelings. Your eyes trailed down, lingering longer than usual on his kissable, plump lips.
How he pursed his lips, how he absentmindedly chewed on his bottom lip as he furrowed his eyebrows while reading what was reflected on the screen. Your eyes zeroed in on how he rested his left index finger on his lip, tapping on it while reading. You unconsciously swallowed, wondering how his fingers will feel when they're buried inside you, either between your legs or in your mouth, not that you will complain in the first place.
Will he be mean to you, laughing or cooing at you as you struggle to take his fingers? Or will he be gentle as he treats you with nothing but utmost love and devotion, like you're some kind of godless with him being your most loyal worshiper?
Before you knew it, your mind had start to drift further and further away from you, rolling down the gutter. You subtly squeezed your legs together, hating how you were already soaking through your underwear, just from your filthy imaginations. If you're already this wet just from thinking about it, what happens when he eventually laid his hands on you?
"Oh, these are really good. We can use them in our project."
"H-Huh?" You blinked, snapping back to reality, to see Jake was already looking at you, his eyes filled with amusement and something unreadable.
"You alright? You were zoning out back there," he softly pointed out. His observation made your ears flushed red, not wanting him to know what you were thinking a few seconds ago.
"I'm fine, just thinking how cute you look when you're focused," you cheekily replied, chuckling under your breath at how his eyes widened and how he opened and closed his mouth, struggling to say a word.
"W-Well, someone needs to be the focused one here, since you were clearly not listening to a single word I said."
"I did paid attention," you bit back without hesitation, instantly regretting the moment the words left your mouth when Jake arched an eyebrow. You never knew such a simple, mindless action could looked this attractive.
"Oh really? Then tell me one thing I said," he challenged, leaning back in his seat and crossed his arms, eyeing you with an expectant look on his face.
You stammered, opening and closing your mouth, looking like a gaping fish out of the ocean. Jake sent you a triumphant and downright attractive smirk (god, you're about to pounce on this man if he doesn't stop.). The sight of it is enough for you to sink your teeth into your lip, the action not going unnoticed by him, whose eyes darkened a shade in lust.
Although, you weren't sure if you were seeing things as it was gone in a blink of an eye, making you doubt your own vision.
"Right, you were definitely paying attention," he drawled, slowly nodding his head.
You resorted to scowling and narrowing your eyes at him. "Fine, you got me," you paused, snatching back your laptop as you turned it to face you, "let's just start on the report. The sooner we get this done, the faster we're free from this hellhole."
"You read my mind."
The next one hour and forty-five minutes passed quickly and to your surprise, both of you were able to get a decent amount of the report done. Sure, the quality might not be there yet but hey, progress is progress. You had finished packing your things and was about to leave the room when Jake stopped you with a question.
"Wanna sit with us for lunch?" He asked out of nowhere.
You blinked and let out a light laugh. "Jakey, we have the same friend group. Why are you asking me like I'm a new student?"
He lets out an awkward and seemingly nervous chuckle as the two of you walked out of the lecture room, walking side by side down the crowded corridor that's packed with students. Some were moving to their next lecture for the day. Some were already heading home (Luck them. With you in your second year, you no longer have the luxury of only having one lecture in a day, which sucks, a lot.)
"God forbid me from wanting to hear your voice."
You shot him an amused, knowing look with your lips curled up in a faint smile. "What's this? Are you saying you like my voice or do you just like talking to me?"
You inched closer to playfully nudged your elbow against his, laughing at how he stumbled over his footing just from your action. Jake awkwardly cleared his throat, pointedly avoiding your gaze as he ran a hand through his pitch-black hair. It's obvious he's flustered and is trying to buy more time for himself but you didn't rush him.
For a moment however, you thought you had made him uncomfortable and was about to apologize when he flashed you a sudden blinding and charming smile. (You swore you nearly saw god right there and then. How does someone who look like That walks around free and single?)
"That's for me to know and for you to find out, princess," he replied smoothly.
The sudden nickname made your brain malfunctioned. You swore you nearly blew a fuse, face turning as red as a tomato at how sweet and nice it sounds coming from him. Gods, the things you want to do to you is unspeakable but that's strictly between you and your inner demons.
"The hell are you two whispering and giggling about? Stop acting like a couple. It piss me off," Sunghoon crudely interrupted your conversation as you approached the table.
"Just say you hate happy people and fuck off," Jake retorted, earning an amused snort from you while Sunghoon owlishly blinked his eyes at his friend's crude response before a sly, knowing smirk stretched across his face, eyes darting between you and Jake.
"Or, you just wanna show off in front of your cr—"
Jake was quick to walk around the table and slapped his hand over his friend's mouth, silencing him before he could finished his sentence. You stood there, staring in disbelief as Sunghoon threw a bewildered look at the other, who shot him a pointed look. It felt like they were able to read one another's minds in that moment, with how Sunghoon huffed and Jake lowered his hand after having some mind communication.
"Uh, am I interrupting something?"
All three of you turned to see Jay approaching the table, his bag carelessly slung over his right shoulder while holding another bag in his right hand that contained everyone's lunch for the day. You shrugged your shoulders as you took your seat with the rest following suit, making sure to leave an empty space for Heeseung, who was on his way after finishing his morning lecture.
"Nah, it's just Sunghoon being a hater," you chimed in, ignoring the offended look he shot you for exposing him.
"Oh, so it's just the usual shenanigans then," he deadpanned, placing the bag on the table as he hands out the lunch containers he oh so generously made for everyone, like he's some sort of Santa Claus handing out gifts to children, rewarding them for their good behavior.
Jake, who sat on your left, dramatically wiped a fake tear away as he accepted the container. "Thank you God for letting me be born in the same period as Jay."
His roommate sent him his signature side-eye. "You're weird as fuck."
"Love you too."
"I have a boyfriend, unlike your single pathetic ass."
"Okay, you know what, fuck you."
Jake flashed him a pair of puppy eyes, even going the extra mile of pouting. "Promise?"
Jay made a revolted face at his response. His eye twitched and you knew he's reaching his limit before resorting to physical assault. And by physical assault, it meant Jay grabbing the nearest thing and flinging it at the other's head with all of his might.
Fortunately for you and Sunghoon, you are in a public area and Jay cares a lot about his public appearance, so that means he has no choice but to hold his boiling anger in, leaving him to seethe with rage as invisible steam rises from the top of his head.
You and Sunghoon shared a look as the two starts to bicker among themselves, which had became a common routine with how easily Jay gets riled up. And Jake is the number one reason behind most of it.
"So, wanna make a bet on who loses?" Sunghoon suggested.
You grinned. "Say less. I bet on Jay."
"Same."
~
When the day was finally over, you were relieved to finally head back to get that much-needed nap you've been desperately craving for. You wore your noise-cancelling headphones, which was your first mistake followed by you looking at social media without bothering to check your surroundings. You were watching a random video you stumbled upon to register the fact that you were being followed.
By the time you noticed it, it was already too late.
One moment you were walking on solid ground. The next moment, you're being flung into an alleyway that's coincidentally situated between two tall building apartments. You let out what sounded like a combination of a yelp and a scream, or maybe it's somewhere in the middle, as you crashed into one of the hard, firm and damp wall.
Your headphones and phone was dropped somewhere but that was the least of your concern. Your head was hurting and spinning, black spots covering the corners of your vision as your body ungracefully fell to the ground. You weren't given a chance to stand or understand what's happening when you were abruptly lifted off the ground.
Your legs dangled uselessly in the air with a large, muscular and cold hand wrapped around your neck in a vice-like grip. Fat fingers dug into the side of your neck, cutting off your oxygen as you wheezed and gasped. You tried to pry it off your neck but your efforts was futile. You tried to kick at your attacker but they or he, barely budged an inch.
"Wha… what do you want from me?" You rasped out, glancing down at him.
He remained silent, simply staring at you with soulless eyes, like he was acting on someone else's command and instructions. Like someone was controlling him from the shadows, like a puppet master treating him as a puppet. You could feel your strength gradually leaving your body with your movements slowing down.
Is this it? Is this how I'm gonna die? Damn, maybe I should've confessed to Jake…
"Hey! Eyes up here, loser!"
Just when all hopes was gone, you heard a voice calling out to the attacker. Something red and blue entered your vision. You watched with half-opened eyes that were threatening to close as the masked figure shot something sticky, that you identified as webs right at the attacker's face. He blinked, blindly staggering backwards to rip it off and drops you in the process.
"Woah, got you."
Someone caught you before you could break your back again. Looking up, your eyes widened in recognition at your knight in shining armor.
"You're Spider-Man," you breathed out, voice soft and breathless but he was able to catch it.
"Yup, Spider-Man in the flesh. Let's get you somewhere safe, alright? While big dude here is distracted," he said, glancing at the other, only for him to duck when the other swung at him, only for him to hit nothing but thin air.
You clutched onto him, arms tightly wrapped around him as you watched the superhero struggled to make his escape. But the opponent was relentless, showing no signs of giving up as he continued advancing forward, attempting to corner the both of you. It was only when Spider-Man's back hits the wall behind him was when he cursed under his breath.
"Fuck."
Your eyes widened in horror as the attacker stopped before the both of you. His much taller and larger frame was gigantic enough to block out the sunlight as he stared down at you.
"Uh, a plan will be really great now," you said, hands digging into his shoulders when the other raised his right arm, pulling it back as he curled it into a fist.
"Make sure to hold on tight, alright?" Spider-Man said, looking down at you. You only nodded once before he moved faster than you could react.
"What the fuck!?"
You screeched at the top of your lungs, clinging onto him like your life depended on it. (well, it kinda does, especially when you're in the fucking air.) Your hair slapped you in the face as you squinted your eyes, attempting to look (or trying not to look down as you didn't want to fall to your death. That will truly be the dumbest way to die.) ahead and not downwards.
"Oh my god, I'm gonna throw up," you complained, feeling bile rising in your throat.
"Please don't. You can throw up on anything else but me. I don't wanna be covered in puke," he replied while effortlessly swinging from one building to another, the movement smooth and graceful.
"Well, aren't you helpful?" You dryly replied, now having the courage to open your eyes while still not looking down, "Also, mind letting me down?"
"Here? In the air?"
"No, you dumbass. I meant just put me down on a street and I'll walk home on my own," you deadpanned.
Even if he was wearing a mask, you could perfectly visualized the amused smirk on his face. "I would but I'm afraid that's a no from me, young lady. I'll drop you right at your doorstep. Free of charge too. How does that sound? Getting a free ride from the one and only Spider-Man sounds thrilling, no?"
You didn't reply, merely staring at him with an unimpressed face, letting the silence speaks for itself. Spider-Man lets out an awkward chuckle that sounds painfully similar to a certain someone but you shrugged it aside, not dwelling much on it.
"Right, never mind. I'll just drop you here then. But I'll be watching you. You never know when he's gonna come back again," he warned you as he dived down, gently placing you down on the solid ground. No words could described the amount of relief you felt when you were able to feel your legs again.
You fully turned to face him. "Thanks for saving me, I guess. You're not so bad yourself."
The hero rested a hand on his chest. "Ouch, that doesn't sound sincere but I'll take what I can get. Stay safe and see you around, (Name)!"
He didn't wait for your response, already swinging away to somewhere else. You were left standing there, watching as his figure get smaller and smaller until he was out of your sight. That's when it hit you.
How does he know my name when I didn't even told him?
~
Jake felt like he was floating when he returned home.
Thankfully, Jay wasn't back yet as he was spending time with Heeseung (couples, am I right?), which gave him the much-needed privacy to squeal and kick his feet, acting very much like a high school girl in those romance animes he used to watch when he was young, grinning from ear to ear. He spent the next hour or so replaying the entire scene from start to end.
How he smoothly swooped in to save you (although he nearly shit in his pants when he saw the colors draining from your face.). How he managed to get away without you suffering from anymore injuries and how he was full of charm and confidence. Surely those are enough to make you swoon all over him, right?
"Dude, stop rolling around on your bed while you're still wearing your fucking suit. It's unhygenic as hell."
Jake flinched, nearly shooting out web at the direction of where the voice came from, only for him to freeze when Jay stood at the doorway with an unfazed look on his face, which is also known as his signature and classic look whenever he's around Jake. (Jake would like to take this chance to say he has never give Jay any issues. Maybe. Hopefully.)
"What the? I thought you're not coming back until eight," he replied as he got off his bed, throwing a quick glance to the clock hanging on the wall on his right, "it's like, six-thirty now. Why are you back so early?"
"Because I saw you, wearing your stupid bodytight suit, like the whore you are—"
"Did you just call me a whore?"
"—dropping (Name) off in the middle of a fucking street, like you're the fucking Uber. What the hell happened?" He continued, brushing off Jake's question.
"Remember that dude from before?"
Jay frowned, entering the bedroom. "The one you first met at her party?"
Jake nodded. "Yup, it's him again. He attacked her and I managed to save her."
The older sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Damn, that sucks. Judging purely based on what you told me, it sounds like his motive is you."
Jake pointed at himself with wide eyes and a confused look on his face. "Me? But why? All I did is just protecting the neighborhood while minding my business."
Jay shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe they want to get rid of you so they can achieve their goal without anyone hindering them. Which is something you need to investigate."
Jake groaned as he collapsed back into his bed with his arms spread out on both sides of him, staring at the ceiling.
"Someone should have told me being a superhero involves doing detective's work too," he muttered under his breath.
Jay snorted, turning to leave the room. "To be fair, you were the one who willingly walked into that room and get bitten by a spider. So maybe it's your fault from the start."
"Haha. Very funny."
"I know."
Jake flipped him off as his roommate left, leaving him alone to dwell on his second encounter with the villain. He wasn't sure how much time had passed and when an idea hits him out of nowhere, the sky had already turned dark. He picked up his mask that fell to the floor, tugged it back on to hide his face from the public and sneaked out via the opened window, mentally praying that his idea will work.
The streets were vacant of people, who were now all in the comfort of their homes, winding down after a busy day. This gives Jake a better chance to head back to the alleyway—the very same alleyway where he had saved you from the villain. He nimbly landed on his feet soundlessly as he scrutinized the area before him, searching for any clues.
That's when he saw it—something small, slightly torn around the edges with it nearly blending into the ground if he didn't step closer for a better look. Jake bent, knees bent as he picked it up carefully, treating it like a fragile piece of glass even though it's fabric that was accidentally ripped from someone's clothing.
"What the hell is this?"
He murmured under his breath, brushing his finger against the outline of what seemed to be a logo. At least, he hoped it's a logo since it's pouring cats and dogs, blurring his vision. The logo is in a slightly curved circle with eight sections—four in red and four in white. Jake has never seen this before, not that he could think of any companies that has this logo blasted everywhere.
"Umbrella Corp…"
He muttered the name, letting it rolled off his tongue when he noticed the one-line words underneath the logo, along with the full address imprinted on it in a tiny and barely readable font as he held it squarely in his left hand, not wanting to lose it when it's a crucial clue to his investigation. Jake rose to his full height, doing another quick but calculative scan of his surroundings and saw a pair of headphones and a broken phone scattered on the floor.
Oh, those must be (Name)'s.
Walking towards it, he picked up both items and was about to return home when he glanced down at your headphones and phone. All it took was for five seconds for him to make up his mind.
"Fuck it."
He jumped, shooting web to the building on his right as he swing his way to your home, hoping you were still awake at this hour. It took him exactly thirty minutes for him to arrive at the small balcony of your home that's located on the third floor. (Before anyone come at him, you've told him before where you lived so he's not a stalker, alright?)
The curtains were drawn, blocking off his view but he was able to get a sneak peak through a small gaping hole into your room. Jake could see your side profile with you buried nose-deep in your laptop. Your fingers flew across the keyboard at breakneck speed as you were working on what he assumed, was the group project's report.
Knock knock.
He knocked twice, huffing in amusement at how you flinched in your seat, startled by the sudden sound that interrupted you. Your head snapped to the left, eyes widening to see Spider-Man standing on your balcony like it's just a regular day. You stumbled out of your seat, nearly tripping over your own feet as you unlocked the door, sliding it open and stepped out.
"Spider-Man? What are you doing here?" You questioned, voice filled with genuine curiosity.
"I wanted to return these to you," he replied, handing your headphones and phone to you. He caught the way your eyebrows lifted as you accepted them, looking at it like you've never seen them before.
"Wait, how do you know where I live?" You narrowed your eyes at him, "Are you a stalker?"
Oh fuck.
"I, uh, urm, know your friend who told me the address. I swear I'm not a stalker! Swearing on the heroes' honor!" He stuttered, coming up with a pathetic lie.
You eyed him longer before surrendering with a sigh as you held the headphones and phone close to your chest, treating them like they are something precious to you. (Jake wishes to be held close to your chest too. But all in due time…)
"Right, whatever floats your boat. But, thank you for returning these to me and once again, for saving me," you thanked him with a sincere smile.
Jake could feel his face heating up at your kind-hearted words, letting out an awkward laugh as he scratched the back of his neck.
"It's fine, I'm just doing what anyone would do," he waved off your words.
"Right, as if anyone is brave enough to step in and save someone from a big guy," you pointed out and stepped forward, causing Jake to move back.
He didn't get to move far as his back hits the railing of the balcony. He raised his hands, awkwardly hovering them in the air when you kept getting closer and closer, a faint smile on your face.
"Uh, what are you—!?"
His voice died in his throat when you leaned in to kiss his left cheek. It was over when he blinked as you stepped back, giggling at how he stiffened, not moving an inch.
"You're welcome. Feel free to drop by whenever you want, Spidey," you sent him a playful wink as you returned to your room, closing the door and now fully drawing the curtains.
Jake, on the other hand, remained standing on the balcony with his mind lagging. He robotically moved, like he was being controlled as he somehow managed to make his way back, entering his room through the still opened window. (Thank god Jay didn't close it, like that one time but that's a story for another day. When will that day comes? No one knows…)
He removed the mask, staring at the floor in a daze as he brushed his fingers against his left cheek, right over the area where your lips was. Even through the fabric of the mask and how it was cold due to the heavy rain, his cheek felt unusually warm.
~
Ever since that day, it became a common sight for him to appear at your balcony at random times of the day. You don't know anything about Spider-Man's schedule or what he does but you didn't have the heart in you to ask, not when you were simply someone who he rescued. During your short and many conversations you shared with him, your curiosity for his identity behind the mask grew.
Even when you can't see his face, you would like to imagine he's similar to Jake. Be it the height, the way he talks, the way he carries himself in conversations and so on. You weren't sure what's with you or why you were feeling this way towards someone who barely knows you but you didn't think much about it.
It happened out of nowhere, after you've been talking to Spider-Man for the past two months or so. Two months of random but entertaining conversations with the superhero as you learned more and more about his life, how and why he became Spider-Man in the first place. You were staring out into the open with your elbows on the railings while the other sat on the railings, legs dangling in the air on your right.
None of you said a word as a gentle gust of cooling breeze blew past, kissing your cheeks in the lightest kiss before you broke the silence.
"You know, there's someone I kinda like at the moment. But, I'm not sure if he likes me back or not," you started off.
Oh no, this is exactly what I was afraid of.
Jake felt his heart shattering at your sentence as he forced his lips to move, feeling your eyes on him.
"O-Oh… Who is it?" He asked, wincing at his stutter but you didn't point it out, staring ahead of you with a seemingly nostalgic look on your face.
You sighed, lips curling up in a faint smile and gods, it should be illegal with the effect you have on him. How you're able to make him melt even without laying your hands on him, like you have some sort of secret ability he doesn't know.
"He's my partner for a project and we share the same group of friends," you started.
No way… No fucking way…
Jake's heart hammered against his chest at a fast, unsteady pace. Thankfully, the mask helps to hide the wide grin stretching across his face, smiling from ear to ear. He swallowed, clearing his throat before speaking, acting like the superhero he is and giving advice to a civilian who's under his care and protection.
"Do you think he likes you?" He asked.
Yes I do. In fact, like is the biggest understatement of the year.
You shrugged your shoulders, absentmindedly fiddling with your fingers. "I dunno. Maybe he does and maybe he doesn't. I'm not gonna ask him that."
"Why not?"
You shot him a look. "Because I'm scared."
Jake blinked owlishly behind his mask. You and the word 'scared' doesn't belong in the same sentence.
To him, you're the bravest girl he's ever met. Ever since he met you, he had witnessed you facing obstacles head-on without backing down and hesitation. He watched how you're willing to fight for your friends, proving your loyalty that runs long and deep between you. He watched how you're able to tackle the most difficult hardships thrown your way without breaking down.
That was one of the many reasons why he fell for you—your bravery. (And your fine ass that he wants to—alright, let's not go there.) He drummed his gloved fingers on the railings, his web shooters creating a 'thunk thunk' sound whenever it smacked against it. Before he could say anything, you chuckled and waved off your words with a dismissive flick of your wrist.
"Forget I said anything. I'm sure you're not scared of anything," you said.
He frowned. "What makes you say that?"
You chuckled in disbelief while gesturing to all of him. "Are you kidding me? You're Spider-Man. A guy with a spider's abilities. You can kick ass and save people. I'm sure you're able to get yourself a girlfriend too."
You paused briefly and added another sentence, unaware of Jake choking on his spit when he heard it.
"Or, you know, boyfriend works too. Be who you are, I guess," you said.
He spluttered. "I—uh, I'm not gay. I mean, I support gay people but yeah, I don't.. swing that way."
"Was that a pun?"
"…Maybe."
You light-heartedly rolled your eyes, lips curving up in a faint, amused smile. It's enough to make him melt, like the whipped man he is. He can tell something hit you, judging from how you straightened and turned to face him.
"By the way, there's something I've been really curious about," you started.
Jake nodded, giving you his fullest attention, like he hasn't done that since the start. "Shoot."
You eyed him with an unreadable look, like you're trying to read his mind. It took all of his self-restraint to not squirm on the spot, not wanting to show how nervous he was. It's ironic, really. For someone who was bitten by a spider, getting heightened senses and inhumane abilities, only for him to get nervous when he's waiting for his crush to speak her mind.
You narrowed your eyes. "..Do you have a crush on someone?"
What.
Now, there's two approaches Jake can use. The first approach would be to deny it, because the last thing he wanted was for everyone to know that he, as Spider-Man, has a crush on someone. It's already hard enough for him to navigate his way through life with everyone around him talking about Spider-Man this and Spider-Man that.
The second approached would be to accept it—which was the complete opposite. Jake could already foresee him reaping the consequences of his actions, coming in the forms of him trying his best to lie his way through endless rounds of questioning. Unfortunately for him, he isn't a good liar. (Jay can testify for this but between the two of them, Jake's slightly better than his roommate. Just slightly though…)
"Uh, hello? Earth to Spider-Man?"
Jake blinked, snapping out of his train of thoughts. "H-Huh?"
You stepped closer, catching the way the masked figure stilled for a second. "You zoned out. What's got you thinking so hard? Could it be there's a special someone?"
He made a strangled sound akin to a dying animal, which wasn't helping his case. "Uh… no?"
He immediately winced under his breath when he realized how uncertain he sounded, which was an open window for you to sink your invisible claws in, like a prey that's been hiding in the shadows as it stalked its unsuspecting prey.
Your eyes glinted—the kind of glint that Jake knew by heart and also, the kind of glint that spelled nothing but trouble. "So you do have a special someone! That's cute. Who would've thought the mighty and formidable Spider-Man has a little crush?"
He groaned, dragging a gloved hand down his face. "It's not like that. I was thinking about something else."
"Oh really? Like what?" You asked, arching an brow.
Like how you're the special someone to me. Like how I'll do everything and anything to keep you safe. Like how you're my entire world.
Jake didn't reply, simply staring at you through the two, large eye-shaped of his mask. Behind the fabric, he's mesmerized by the breathtaking view before him—your hair whipping behind your head as a strong gust of gentle wind blew past, messing it up in the process. How you kept looking at him with that gaze—the very same gaze you used when you were discussing about your group project with him.
Gods, he's not a religious person but if you're some sort of Goddess, he won't hesitate to drop to his knees and be a loyal worshiper.
He swallowed, wetting his lips. "I—"
Bzzt, bzzt! Bzzt, bzzt!
Both of you flinched on the spots at the abrupt and unwanted interruption. It was coming from you, or well, your jeans' pocket, to be more exact. You shot him an apologetic look but he waved it off, letting you accept the call. He even scooted away from you, giving you some form of privacy, even though he's able to hear you clearly thanks to his heightened hearing.
You turned, back facing him as you placed your phone against your left ear. "Hello?"
Jake strained his ears, focusing on your conversation. He knew it's rude to eavesdrop but hey, sometimes he gotta do what he needs to do! (He's lying. He's just hella nosey and god forbid him from wanting to hear who his future wife is talking to.)
"(Name)? Where the hell are you!? We've been waiting for you for fifteen minutes!" A girl exclaimed.
You cursed, jerking your phone away from your ear at the sudden loud yelling as you checked the time at the same time before reining the device back in again.
"Oh, shit! I forgot about the party! I'll be right there in ten minutes," you replied, exchanging a few more words with her before hanging up.
Jake looked everywhere but you, pretending he was busy admiring the scenery, even though there's nothing worthy to admire. With the exception of you, of course.
"Who was that? They sound mad," he questioned, pointing at your phone.
You chuckled sheepishly. "Oh, that was my friend. I forgot we're attending a party tonight."
"A party? Is it hosted by someone you know?"
That's strange, Jay didn't tell me anything about a party.
You shrugged your shoulders. "Nope, my friend was the one who invited me. Said something about how there's gonna be cool cosplayers showing up. I'm not really sure about the exact details."
Jake furrowed his eyebrows and crossed his arms. "That sounds suspicious. I'd avoid going if I were you. Where's the location?"
You checked your phone, probably looking for the address your friend sent you. Once you read it out loud, his senses were on high alert. He wasn't sure why but there's a small, part of him telling him that the address might be connected to the strong opponent he fought and Umbrella Corp. He doesn't need anyone to tell him that it's a recipe for disaster that's waiting for the right time to explode.
"Uh, you good over there? You went quiet," you called out, unaware of the kind of thoughts running through his mind at lightning speed.
"It's nothing. But seriously, consider this as an advice from a hero, don't go there tonight," he warned you.
You snorted. "And why not?"
Jake internally groaned. Out of all times you chose to be stubborn, it had to be now—when there's a potential chance of you losing your life.
"Just listen to me, please. It's not safe there and it's on the outskirts of the city. How are you planning to go home once the party's over?"
You pursed your lips. "I'll just call an Uber or something. Calm down, what's wrong with you, Spidey? You're acting like I'm gonna lose my life."
You might if you don't listen to me.
It's times like these where Jake desperately wished he could ripped off his mask and talked to you face-to-face, without hiding behind it, like a coward. But he couldn't. The more people knew about his secret, the more danger they are in. There's a reason why only Jay knew this and thankfully, his roommate and friend is very tight-lipped about it.
He sighed, shoulders slumping. "Just.. consider it as a advice from your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man."
You eyed him for a few seconds before chuckling. "If you say so. But relax, I'll be fine. I'm not some helpless child, you know. I know to handle myself."
I know that. But there are just some things you can't handle too.
Jake remained silent, nodding and rose to his full height as he stood on the railings. "Alright, (Name), if you say so."
You snorted. "Yeah yeah, just go and do whatever you heroes need to do, Spidey. I'll see you around."
He bid you farewell and jumped off the railings, shooting his webs to swing himself from one spot to another. He didn't glance over his shoulder and there wasn't a need to, not when he's able to feel the heavy weight of your gaze on his retreating figure until he grew smaller and smaller.
~
"Jay, I need your help."
Jake said the moment he returned, removing his mask and threw the crumpled fabric onto Jay's bed. His roommate simply hummed, focused on his report as he continued typing away on his laptop.
"Do you know anything about a party happening on the outskirts of the city?" He asked.
Jay's fingers froze, hovering over his keyboard. He turned, looking at his friend over his shoulder with a puzzled look on his face. "No, why?"
Jake approached the other, pulling out the piece of torn fabric he picked up earlier and handed it to Jay, who accepted it while squinting his eyes, trying his best to read it.
"Oh my god, it's so fucking small," he complained, "I can't see shit. What does it say?"
"I think it's from a uniform. Name's Umbrella Corp and the address stated on it matches the party's address," Jake pointed out, leaning over his friend to open the Internet before typing something, ignoring the offended "hey!" from him.
Once he finished typing and pressed the enter button, a variety of results showed up. Both boys leaned in to get a better look, with Jay taking the lead as he scrolled down slowly, until Jake stopped him, shooting out his hand to point at a certain link.
"Wait, click that one."
Jay obliged, clicking on the link Jake pointed at and they were brought to a news article that was published just two months ago, which was still quite recent. Jake stepped even closer, eyes fixated on the laptop's screen as he reads, one hand braced against the table while the other fiddled with the torn fabric absentmindedly.
UMBRELLA CORP RUMORED TO SHUT DOWN AFTER INVESTORS BACKED OUT.
There were rumors of a group of investors seemingly said to back out from the signed contract they had signed with Umbrella Corp, due to unknown reasons. According to an anonymous tip we received, they believed the reason behind it was due to Umbrella Corp conducting illegal experiments under the guise of normal experiments. Authorities are currently investigating it while applying for a search warrant to search the facilities.
"Shit, illegal experiments?" Jay echoed, eyes widening slightly and turned to his friend. "You don't think it's…"
His voice trailed off, not daring to finish his sentence but Jake already knew what he meant to say, a rare grim expression settling itself on his usual carefree and bright smile.
"Human experiments? Maybe, maybe not," he answered, shrugging his shoulders.
Jay blinked, pushing his glasses up when he felt it slipping from the bridge of his nose. "You're being unusually calm about this. Do you have a plan?"
Jake sighed, heavy and long. He leaned against the desk, arms crossed with his gloved fingers tapping his upper right arm, lips pursed in a thin line. "No, not really. But I have to go, Jay. She's gonna be there and I'm the only one who can save her if shits happen."
Like the smart boy he is, Jay was quick to catch up. "Is that why you asked me about a party? It's happening in the same place as the address, right?"
Jake nodded, his jaw muscles twitching. "I have to go. It's the only way I can make sure she'll stay safe."
Jay eyed him for a few seconds before sighing, leaning back in his seat with one arm thrown over the back of his chair. "You really like her huh. I've never seen you this hooked onto someone."
"What's that supposed to mean?" He fired back, slightly defensive.
"Calm down, Lover Boy. I'm saying it from a friend and as someone who cares about you. If you do love her, you should tell her."
Jake stilled. "Tell her what?"
"Tell her you're Spider-Man."
"Jay, you know I ca—"
"You can't?" He rushed to finish it for him, causing Jake to clamp his lips shut.
Jake frowned. "You don't understand."
Jay barked out a bitter laugh.
"Oh, so now it's I don't understand? No, listen here, Sim Jaeyun. You're the one that doesn't understand what's going on here. This isn't something you handle on a daily basis. I mean, we're talking about human experiments. Humans. Like you and me. I know you're going there to investigate and to keep an eye on (Name)."
Jake made the wise choice of keeping quiet, knowing the other was speaking nothing but facts. Jay continued, rising from his seat, looming over Jake with only a few inches difference in their heights.
"I also know you're planning to do something stupid, like sacrificing your life. You told me before, remember? You couldn't even scratched the guy! How are you planning to defeat him if he shows up again?"
Jake groaned, frustrated and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know. I'll figure something out."
Jay closed his eyes, silently counting to three in his head as he fought against the tempting urge to lash out at his friend before reopening them, looking slightly resigned, like he knew no matter what he said, Jake refused to listen.
"Whatever you do, I'll support you, every step of the way," he murmured, stretching out his hand to place it on Jake's shoulder to give it a tight, assuring squeeze. Whether it's to assure himself or Jake, both boys knew the answer.
Jake chuckled under his breath. "Thanks man, I'll be sure to come back in one piece."
"You better, or I'll drag you back myself."
"Please don't ruin my handsome face."
"Oh my god, just go already!"
~
Jake ended up reaching at the address keyed into his GPS after taking the subway (by standing on top of it. Why would he take it like a normal human being when he can take it for free? Don't be like him though.) and swinging his way over once he reached the nearest subway station. He landed on a rooftop, approaching the edge and got a birds' eye view of the scenery stretched out before him.
From where he stood, he's able to see the power station. The first sign he noticed was how there's smoke coming out from it—a sign it's still active and there are people working in the buildings. Jake frowned, making a mental note as he crouched, reducing the chances of him being spotted by security or someone else.
He scanned his surroundings, slow and calculative, trying to search for any signs of active human activities. He strained his ears beneath the tight fabric of his mask and that's when he heard it—the muffled but loud, booming music coming from his left. He hesitated, gnawing on his bottom lip. He knew he should focused on his investigation but there's a small, traitorous part of him that wanted to check on you, to ensure you're safe.
Jake knew if he doesn't do it, he might be distracted during his investigation, leaving him no choice but to head in the direction of where the music came from. He ended up standing on the rooftop of a seemingly abandoned warehouse. Thanks to a hole on it, he's able to look inside without anyone noticing him.
Now that he's closer, the music was much more clearer and louder—just a random EDM and heavily bass-boosted music, the kind of music that's played at nightclubs. Jake looked around, searching for a certain someone among the sea of unfamiliar faces. He noticed there were some people dressed in more eye-catching, colorful and bright costumes and can only assumed those were the cosplayers you briefly mentioned.
Where the hell are you?
He drummed his fingers against the smooth metal surface beneath him, heart starting to beat faster when he couldn't find you. His eyes flicked over to the entrance, shoulders sagging in relief once he saw you entering the warehouse. You weren't alone—that's something he's relieved to know. When you fully entered his view, Jake felt like he couldn't breathed.
You worn a red and blue skin-tight sleeveless dress, the outfit perfectly hugging your figure as it showed off your curves. There's a headband resting on top of your head—a pair of familiar-looking eyes staring back at him. In fact, it's the very same eyes he had on his mask. The boy's heart stuttered when he realized who you're cosplaying.
Him. You're cosplaying him.
He's grateful that no one was around to see how his eyes trailed down your figure with a hungry, appreciative gaze—the kind of gaze that's used by disgusting men who wanted nothing more than getting their dicks wet. (Okay well, he kinda wants that too but it's with you and well, he's also very confident in his fucking skills but yeah.)
"Fuck," he cursed, voice cracking at the edge as his cock twitched against the restraints of his tight spandex suit.
He didn't have to look down to know he's already hard. (Seriously, one of the cons of wearing a spandex suit is that it shows off… everything. And by that, he really meant everything.) He continued staring at you like the true lovesick fool and creep he is, melting at the laugh you let out, nothing but music to his ears.
You mingled with the crowd and like the social butterfly you are, you're now drawn into what sounded like a hearty and entertaining conversation with a mixed group of both guys and girls. Your friends were with you but that didn't stop the ugly feeling crawling up his body, sinking its invisible, razor-sharp claws into his shoulders as it pierced through layers of skin and muscles.
He watched with a tight jaw and clenched fists as a guy had the audacity to touch your—a hand on your shoulder. He nearly saw red when he leaned in to whisper something into your ear. Whatever he said couldn't be that funny with how you laughed, head thrown back with nothing but sheer happiness written all over your face.
He clenched his fist, tempted to jump down right there and then, to announce his presence as Spider-Man. But he can't. Not when he's supposed to be keeping you safe while protecting you, his presence undetected and hidden. Jake continued staring at you, imprinting your fit into his mind, not wanting to forget it, even for a split second before he reluctantly pulled away.
He can only hoped you'll be fine while he sneaked his way into Umbrella Corp, like the sneaky spider he's meant to be.
Entering the gigantic building was easier than he expected. Too easy for his liking. The masked figure slipped past the guards that were stationed at the main entrance by entering from the sides. He almost scoffed out loud when the only thing standing in his way was a wired and fenced up barrier.
"Jeez, if you're doing some illegal things, at least put in more effort for your security," he mumbled, using his webs to fly over the fence without breaking a sweat.
He landed soundlessly on the grassy ground, hands on his hips as he looked left and right. There were many buildings stretched out around him and the last thing he wanted to do was to enter every single building. Unfortunately, time wasn't on his side and the sooner he found evidence or clues, the better it is for him.
If I were doing illegal experiments, I'd do it in the least suspicious-looking building…
With the thought in mind, he scanned left and right until he found a relatively short building that resemblances a warehouse. There were a few large empty trucks parked outside with the faded words of 'UMBRELLA CORP' imprinted on the containers they were carrying. Jake made his way over (by walking, because he's standing in nothing but a open-aired grass field. Walking when he's Spider-Man feels weird.).
"Hey, are you sure we're supposed to be on standby tonight? No one's around, you know."
Oh fuck.
Jake was quick to swing himself up onto the nearest trucks, nimbly landing on top of it as he lied on his stomach, making himself as flat as possible. He shuffled forward on his gloved elbows, peeking over the edge, tracking two heavily-armed guards walking together. They were as oblivious as a rock, unaware that someone—an intruder, had managed to sneak their way into the guarded premises.
The guard on Jake's left snorted. "So? Just keep your mouth shut and do your job, dumbass. Don't ask too much questions unless you wanna be the next guinea pig."
Guinea pig? That means Jay's right. They're really conducting human experiments.
The other guard rolled his eyes. "Right, as if that'll happen. Boss was smart enough to use the party as a facade to find someone fit enough to be the next guinea pig. I heard he's also letting Mr. X loose. That guy gives me the creep."
Jake's eyes widened, his face losing all colors once he heard it. His mind worked at lightning speed, connecting the dots together and when he reached a conclusion, he gripped onto the container's edge, nearly crushing it with his bare hand.
If they're looking for the next guinea pig… that means there's a chance (Name) could be the next victim. Fuck, this isn't good.
He's conflicted now. His initial plan of searching for clues was thrown out the window after eavesdropping on the guards' conversation. To make matters worse, there's also someone going by Mr. X (who Jake can only assumed it's the villain he encountered not once but twice) roaming around freely. The thought of what it planned to do once it found you made his stomach twist into itself.
Once the guards were out of his sight, Jake rose to his full height and swing away from the building. Forget about his god damn investigation. Nothing else matters when it come to you and your safety.
Please be safe, (Name).
~
You weren't sure why but ever since you arrived at the party, you had an inkling feeling that something bad will happened.
It's just that you weren't sure when or how. It could be at any moment—be it during or after the party. You didn't voice it to your friends, not wanting to ruin the mood, with how excited they were. Their excitement only became more evident the closer they approached the main entrance.
The first sign was how there's a severe lack of security. You don't club often but even you knew that there should be guards standing outside, mostly to check people's ages before they entered. But no matter where you looked, there was no one standing by. It's enough to make you narrowed your eyes, mentally tucking it aside.
The second sign was the address. Spider-Man's words echoed in your mind, how the party's located on the outskirts of the city. But out of everywhere else, why here? It doesn't made any sense. Unless one owns a car, it's no problem for them to drive home once the party was over. Heck, you doubt if you were to call an Uber, you could even get one, considering how far away you are.
Those were two signs you spotted at first and you lingered at the back of your friend group, scanning your surroundings as all of you entered. The moment you do, the loud music washed over you like a huge tidal wave, nearly making your eardrums burst from how loud it was. It's filled with people your age. Some were dancing, some were chatting among themselves while some were busy making out in corners.
"(Name)! Over here!" One of your friends shouted over the music, dragging you forward to introduce you to a mixed group of both boys and girls.
All of them were unfamiliar to you but it's different from your friends, judging from how well they were able to converse with one another easily, like they were long lost friends. The only time everyone paid attention to you was when your friend introduced you to them, to which they politely introduced themselves and that was it.
You remained quiet, trying to look engaged even though no one paid you any mind. You were almost tempted to leave when a guy from the group shifted closer, standing on your right side. You turned to him, arching an brow as you waited for him to speak up.
"Hey, your costume's fire. You're dressed as Spider-Man, right?" He questioned, leaning in slightly to make himself heard.
"Spider-Girl," you corrected him with a cheeky grin.
The guy paused before he chuckled. "Right, that's my fault. So, what brings a pretty girl like you here?"
You blinked, slightly caught off-guard with how straightforward he was before regaining your composure. "I was forced to be here, actually. My friends saw a post made about this party and well, here I am."
You finished your sentence by pointing at yourself from head to toe. The guy hummed and you weren't blind from how his eyes dragged down your figure, almost like he's undressing you with nothing but his vision. It's enough for your body to break out into goosebumps and you crossed your arms—trying to ground yourself.
Things were going fine, if you could called it that—you gradually losing interest in the party along with a guy who can't take the hint that you're not refusing to talk to him. Heck, there wasn't even any drinks provided, which was honestly unbelievable. After all, what kind of party doesn't provide drinks?
That's when you felt it—the faint shaking of the solid ground beneath you.
You didn't think much of it at first, assuming you were hallucinating. However, the tremors only grew stronger and stronger—a sign that something large and fast was heading your way. Everyone stopped what they were doing, only to scream at the top of their lungs when the ground started cracking and moving upward, like something was rising beneath them.
It was close to you and you didn't have enough time to back away, leaving you with no choice but to shield your face with your arms. You shut your eyes, feeling dirt and soil raining over you. Some people started running, wanting to leave the warehouse, only to realize the doors were slammed shut, locking them inside.
"What the fuck is happening!?" Your friend shrieked, overwhelmed with panic and fear.
"We have to get out of here!"
"But the door's locked, dumbass!"
Some rammed their shoulders against the locked doors. Some banged their fists against it, yelling for help but it was futile. No one was nearby to save them, not when you're at the outskirts of the city. You lowered your arms, reopening your eyes and your breath hitched when you recognized the villain standing before you.
It's the very same villain from before—the villain in the alleyway. You would've died if Spider-Man didn't save you. You couldn't moved, feet rooted to the ground as you stared at the approaching villain. He's still the same, large and intimidating figure from before, the ground shaking with every heavy step he took, his unblinking and seemingly dead eyes never leaving your face.
"(Name), what are you doing? We have to get outta here!" Another friend exclaimed from where she stood, waving her hand as she tried to catch your attention.
You, on the other hand, remained where you were, fear-stricken with your palms growing sweaty. The villain gradually get closer and closer, until he's standing in front of you, his tall and large figure looming over you ruthlessly. You swallowed dryly, watching as he raised his left hand, fingers stretched open, ready to grab you—
"Hey big guy! Leave her alone!"
Someone yelled. You blinked as a figure of both blue and red appeared from above, standing between you and the villain. Your friends paused, eyes widening once their stunned minds registered the masked and iconic figure standing right before them.
"Holy shit, it's Spider-Man!"
Spider-Man turned at his name, casually waving at your friends, who cheered once he glanced their way, seemingly forgotten they were in danger for a split second. The villain drew his left arm back, hand clenched in a fist and swung at you. You wheezed when someone wrapped an arm around you, carrying you out of harm's way, leaving the villain to hit nothing but thin air.
"Spider-Man, I—"
You attempted to speak but he shushed you.
"It's fine, you don't have to say anything. Let's just get you and everyone out of here, alright?" He said in a soft tone. A tone that's quite familiar to you.
You went quiet, meekly nodding as you let him set you down until you're standing. Spider-Man looked around to assess the surroundings and his white-shaped eyes landed on the locked doors and how the crowd kept growing and growing. The air was thick, filled with the strong smell of fear and panic.
"The door was locked from the outside and everyone's trapped here," you pointed out.
Spider-Man clicked his tongue. "Figures, I'll open it."
"But h—?"
You didn't finish your sentence as he shot webs at the tall ceiling, using it to jump up and exit through a hole that you didn't notice until now. You looked over your shoulder, noting how the villain was simply standing there, not making a move. However, the way he looked at you was enough to terrify you. It's almost like he's waiting for orders from someone before he can make his next move.
Baam baam!
The sound of gunshots pierced through the night's silence and everyone went quiet, freezing on the spot once they heard it. You gasped, mind instantly jumping to conclusion.
What's going on outside? Who shot who? Oh god, what if something happens to Spider-Man?
Two minutes later, the heavy pair of locked metal doors were slowly pushed open from the outside, revealing none other than Spider-Man himself. You did a quick scan of him, heaving a sigh of relief when there's no sign of injuries. Once the gap was big enough for people to slide through, Spider-Man cleared his throat and shouted, making himself heard.
"Alright, everyone, you should leave and go home! Don't wander around because there's so many of you and there's only one of me!" He instructed.
No one paused to cheer or thank him properly. The large group of people managed to squeeze their way out, wanting to be as far from the villain as possible. Once they were out, they ran for their lives and as fast as their legs could carried them. You managed to regroup with your friends, about to leave the warehouse as well when the villain lunged towards you, gathering enough strength in its legs, giving himself a headstart.
"(Name)!"
You looked over your shoulder, shrieking when the villain got close, fingers nearly touching your face, only for Spider-Man to roughly kick him in the face. The impact was strong enough that it sent him flying a few feet back, smashing through the back of the warehouse until he's outside. By this time, your friends managed to make it out, leaving just you and the hero inside.
"You alright?" Spider-Man asked, spinning on the spot to face you, hands on your shoulders.
You were wheezing and gasping for breath, heart pounding against your chest. "Y-Yeah, we should go."
"Yeah, just hol—!?"
You gasped out loud when the villain appeared right behind him, managing to land a heavy, strong blow on his side. The punch sent Spider-Man flying, ramming straight into a pile of wood planks. It shattered under his weight with some landing on top of his still body. You were about to ran towards him, only for the villain to pick you up effortlessly, like you weighed nothing.
You thrashed about, whacking it with your fists—doing everything you can to free yourself but your struggles were futile. He tightened his grip a little, hard enough to punch the air out of your lungs but not hard enough for your bones to snap.
Out of sheer desperation, you called out to him. "Spider-Man! Come on, get your stupid ass up and do something!"
~
"Spider-Man! Come on, get your stupid ass up and do something!"
Your words echoed in his mind, bringing him back to the land of the conscious.
Jake groaned, his head spinning and on the verge of exploding. He felt like he's suffering from a migraine, the kind where everything around him was floating and looking oddly out of shape. He could barely registered your words directed at him, like he's drowning underwater with an invisible heavy weight dragging him down to the bottom of the ocean.
Still, he pushed himself up, gritting his teeth at the sheer effort it took. His arm trembled as he gripped onto the broken edge of a wood plank with his entire might until his knuckles turned white. Jake eventually rose to his full height, the thick and dark crimson liquid trickling down his face hidden behind his mask.
He couldn't looked anywhere else but you. Your wide, pleading and teary eyes, how you're reaching out your hand to him—begging him to save you. The boy felt his entire world being flipped upside down without warning when he saw you're held by the villain. He acted without thinking, forgetting about the overwhelming and numbing pain.
All he could think about was you. Saving you and getting you the hell out of there. The thought of it managing to lay a hand on you made him saw red.
"Get your hands away from her."
He made out the rough silhouette of your figure, your legs dangling uselessly in the air as you snapped your head towards him. Jake moved like a man on a mission, his movements cleaner and sharper than before. He fought like his life was on the line. He punched the villain squarely in the face, hard enough for the sound of bones cracking to echo among the warehouse.
The villain roared in pain, staggering backward and released you, using both hands to clasp his now broken nose, giving you the chance to limp away from him. Jake paid you no mind, only focused on one thing—to kill him with his own hands. He leaped back when his opponent blindly swung at him, shooting webs at his face as a form of distraction.
While the villain struggled to remove the sticky fluids, Jake took the chance to pin him on the spot—firing enough webs at its feet, locking it in place until he's certain he can't moved. He threw his hand behind him, launching a long and solid string of webs to one of the many wood planks, yanked on it and flung it at the villain's face.
The sound of the solid wood plank bounced off the four walls of the warehouse. The villain ended up falling, laying flat on the ground. Jake was quick to follow-suit, straddling him as he delivered punch after punch to his face at a rapid speed. He didn't register the rising pain from his knuckles or how his fists were starting to become bruised. Nor does he register the villain passing out from the relentless attacks from him.
All he cared was to seek revenge for you.
"…an! Spider-Man! Hey, stop!"
Someone grabbed both wrists, stopping him immediately and he froze, body stiffening up. He slowly turned to the left, locking eyes with you. The headband you worn was nowhere to be seen. Your hair was messed up, makeup ruined and eyes puffy, swollen and red. Jake was able to sense your obvious fear radiating from your body with his Spidey-Senses but despite that, you're willing to be close to him.
"That's enough, you're gonna kill him if you keep going at it," you murmured, your voice soft and gentle.
Jake couldn't speak, merely staring at you like you've spoken in a different language.
"You're a hero. You save and help people. Don't stain your hands in blood in unnecessary conflict," you continued.
Unnecessary? Do you really view yourself and your safety as unnecessary conflict?
Jake parted his lips. "I…"
You flashed him a soft smile. "It's alright, let's just go, please? I've called the police and they'll reach shortly. You can leave the villain to them."
Sighing, he lowered his fists and got off the villain. "…Fine, let's go. I'll drop you off."
"Thank you."
Both of you finally left the warehouse, leaving the knocked out villain laying on the ground. Jake hooked his arm around your waist, careful to not apply too much pressure and swung off to the next destination—your apartment.
~
What would take you nearly an hour and a half journey back home was shortened to a mere forty-five minutes.
It wasn't easy for Spider-Man—swinging from one spot to another, struggling to breathe properly due to his injuries and holding you tightly so you won't fall to your death. You had your eyes shut the entire time, face buried in the crook of his neck. You didn't have the courage to look around, not when you have a fear of heights.
"We're here," he murmured, alerting you as he arrived at your balcony that's connected to your room.
Opening your eyes, you lowered your arms as he set you down on the solid ground, body swaying slightly. Once he's certain you're able to walk on your own, he turned and was ready to leave, only for you to grab his wrist, stopping him mid-action before he could shoot his webs.
"Wait."
The hero looked at you and you wished you could see what kind of expression he was wearing. "What is it? Are you hurt?"
You swallowed. "..Do you wanna come in?"
Silence.
You could practically see it—how the other stilled for a brief second, how he thought he's hearing things and how taken aback he was at your bold question. You could imagined the loading button floating above his head, mind struggling to process what you just asked. As the silence stretched, your cheeks turned pink, embarrassed and lowered your hands.
"You know what, never mind. Forget I said anything. Who am I kidding? It's not like you know me or anything. I'm just a random girl you saved and—"
"Sure."
"—spent most of your time listening to me ranting—wait. Did you just say sure?" You paused, snapping your head to him with wide eyes, surprised.
Spider-Man chuckled and again, the sound was painfully familiar but you weren't sure why. "Yeah, why not? Comparing you and my roommate, I think you're better company than him."
"Yikes, sounds like you're shading your roommate."
"It's fine, he loves me a lot."
You eyed him before turning to slide the balcony door open, moving aside to let him in. Spider-Man entered, taking his time to admire the room—your bedroom. It's simple, just like any other bedrooms there is. But to him, it's different. It felt like he's looking at a part of you that no one else knew.
It felt intimate as he entered your safe space.
While he's busy having a meltdown, you had stepped out of your room, heading to the bathroom to grab the first-aid kit, leaving Spider-Man—Jake, alone. He stepped closer to your desk, letting his eyes scanned the mess spread out on it—your opened laptop, a textbook, your notebook with your neat handwritten on the two opened pages.
He continued walking, footsteps silent until he stopped before a section of the wall that's covered with many framed polaroids. There were a few pictures taken with you and your family, with a group of girls he doesn't recognized but can assumed it's your old friend. His heart warmed when he saw there were lots of pictures of your current friend group—you and Sunghoon drawing cat whiskers on a sleeping Heeseung, you posing dramatically with Jay and so on.
When his eyes shifted down, he choked on air, mind lagging when he saw the polaroid. It's a picture of him. Or more specifically, it was taken from someone else when he wasn't looking. Anyone with eyes can tell he was hopelessly in love with you—how his features softened, how nothing but love and adoration was written all over his face as he stared at you.
"Oh, that? That was taken during a picnic with my friends."
He jumped, nearly shrieking out loud when you returned out of nowhere. His senses didn't go off to alert him, or maybe it did, but he was too distracted to notice. Thankfully, you paid his reaction no mind, approaching him while staring at the polaroid, a faint smile settling on your face.
"Remember when I told you there's someone I like?" You started, voice lowering like you're telling him a secret.
He gulped. "Y-Yeah? What about it?"
You continued, not looking in his direction. "That's him—Sim Jaeyun. That's the guy I like."
Oh.
Oh.
Jake's mind blanked out, his head snapping towards you at breakneck speed that it's a miracle he didn't snap it. His jaw dropped, eyes nearly popping out of its sockets. His fingers twitched, not sure if he wanted to pull you in and kissed you until you're breathless or jump off the balcony right there and then.
He raised his right hand, fingers grasping the bottom of his face mask, limbs moving before his mind could catch up—
And removed it.
He didn't care that the blood from the villain's attack was still on his face or how it's dripping down his face. He didn't care that he looked like a mess. All he cared was you.
"(Name), I… I like you too," he confessed, voice raw and unfiltered.
At this, you faced him and the closed first-aid kit you held slipped from your hands, landing on the wooden floor with a loud crashing sound. Some of the contents managed to spill out but both of you paid it no mind.
If it was any other situation, Jake would've burst out laughing at your stupefied expression and at how dumb you looked. You opened and closed your mouth, trying to find your voice and the words to express your surprise.
"I… What the hell? Jake? I didn't expect you to be Spider-Man," you said once you regained your bearings.
He frowned. "Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"
You rolled your eyes and that's when it hits you. "Oh god, does that mean all the times when I ranted to you… About my stupid crush, the group project and everything else… You heard all of that?"
"Yup, can't say I didn't enjoy hearing you dreaming about my fingers though," he teased, reaching out to deliver a sharp but light jab to your side, only for the grin to drop when he heard the pained groan you let out.
"Shit, sit down on the bed, baby. Let me take a look at it," he ordered sternly but softly, the petname slipping without him knowing.
Your heart skipped a beat, heat creeping up the back of your neck as you obliged, sitting on the edge of the bed with your hands on your lap. Jake moved about in the room, placing the brunched up mask on your desk. He squat, picking up the spilled contents of the first-air kit gently with his gloved fingers, the tight fabric doing nothing but to further accentuate his long and slender fingers. Fingers you've dreamed about for a long, long time.
Holding the opened first-aid kit in his hands, the boy straightened and approached you, who observed him the entire time. He sat before you, joining you on the edge of the bed with the first-aid kit placed on the neatly-made sheets.
He bit his lip, oblivious to how your eyes flicked down at the brief action, fidgeting on the spot. "I uh, gonna need you to lift your shirt up."
"Uh, why?" You asked, certain your face have turned as red as a tomato with how unusually warm your room was, despite how it's cooler at night.
Jake seemed to be on the same boat as you, with how his cheeks turned a light shade of reddish-pink and how he's avoiding your eyes. "Because the villain grabbed your hips and I know it's bruising."
"Oh, you don't have to—"
"No, but I want to," he interrupted, assuring you softly and gods, the way he looked at you was tempting enough to make you close the distance, climbed onto his lap and kissed him.
You sighed, the sound filled with fondness. "..Fine."
Out of everything he expected you to do, Jake didn't expect you to pull the hem of your dress up, completely removing it and tossed it onto the floor of your bedroom. He short-circulated, pupils blown out and jaw dropping, unable to hide his emotions. He made a strangled sound that's akin to a dying animal, fingers digging into his spandex suit.
"Fuck," he breathed out, in awe and already breathless even though he hasn't touched you yet.
You felt a twinge of satisfaction curling around your frame, knowing the effect you have on him and how he's wrapped around your fingers. You pointedly ignored your heart pounding against your chest, on the verge of leaping out of your throat. Your hands were borderline shaking from nervousness.
And then, he moved.
Thwip.
He fired webs at your stomach, using it to yank you towards him. You gasped, startled as you landed on his lap awkwardly, one hand on his shoulder and the other on his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat underneath the suit.
"Ja—!?"
You were silenced with him kissing you, capturing your lips in a swooping kiss that had no right to make you melt in his arms. He cupped the right side of your neck with one hand, thumb tracing your jawline while the other rested on your hips, thumb drawing random patterns on your skin, heating your body up.
You let him tilt your head to further deepen the kiss, his tongue darting out to lick along the seam of your lips. You involuntarily shivered when he nipped at your bottom lip, the sudden prickling pain drew a whimper from you that he swallowed without hesitation, not wanting to let it go to waste. Your ears were red and warm from the loud, wet sounds of your kisses, which grew more desperate as every second passed.
"You're gonna be the death of me," he murmured against your lips, like he couldn't bear the useless empty space between you and him.
You smiled, craning your head forward to brush your lips against his, savoring the shaky exhale he let out and how he squeezed his eyes shut, like he's restraining himself. "You're being dramatic, Spidey-Boy. You've fought villains and you're saying I'm gonna be the death of you?"
He let out a choked moan or a whimper, jaw slackening when you teasingly rolled your hips, slow and deliberate. You shifted your position so your cores were now perfectly aligned. Someone moaned. Maybe it was you or Jake or it was from the both of you. He tightened his grip on your hips, his touch burning and searing, like he want to brand his marks into your skin.
His eyes lit up and in a swift, fluid motion, he flipped you over so you're on your back, head resting on the pillow. The first-aid kit was long forgotten for the second time, dangerously tipping over the edge. Jake was quick to react, shooting webs before it could fall over. You glanced at it, arching an brow in curiosity.
"What?" He asked at your look, moving to cut the string of web free as he placed it down on the floor.
You shrugged your shoulders. "Nothing, just thinking it must be easy to web anything you want."
"Well, it does but Jay isn't happy about the mess left behind," he answered, earning an amused chuckle from you.
The chuckle died down in your throat at the feeling of his hands on you—tracing your silhouette, leaving a trail of heat and goosebumps in his wake. Jake dragged his thumb along the hem of your underwear, eyes never leaving the visible wet spot between your legs.
"Can I? Wanna feel you," he asked and your heart ached, who were you to deny sweet, lovable Jake of anything he wants?
You nodded, getting a front-row seat of his face lighting up like you've gave him the entire world. He made quick work of the ruined fabric, slinging it down your legs and flung it to the floor, leaving you wearing your bra and nothing else. Jake paused, on his knees as his eyes raked in your figure from head to toe, gaze unblinking and intense.
Feeling shy and utterly vulnerable, you attempted to close your legs but Jake was faster, stopping you with both hands grabbing your thighs. You shivered at the rough feeling of his gloved fingers against your smooth, unblemished skin.
"Don't hide from me. I wanna see all of you. You're gorgeous," he said, raw and filled with nothing but utmost sincerity.
His words drew an embarrassing needy moan from you as you reached out your hands to him. "Fuck, Jake, just.. do something already."
The way his name rolled off your tongue, smooth and sweet like honey nearly made him cum right there and then. His hardened cock twitched against the tight, uncomfortable restraints of his suit and he cursed. He reached behind him, pulling the zipper down with trembling hands until the suit was loose enough for him to be freed from it, finally able to breath without feeling suffocated.
Your eyes locked in on his toned chest, broad and sturdy shoulders and the faint outline of his abs. You sworn you were able to count not two, not four but a six pack right there. When he finally freed his cock, you dug your nails into the sheets beneath your palms, feeling slick running down your pussy as it soaked the sheets.
He's big. The tip in an angry and almost pitiful shade of reddish-purple. It stood proudly upright, a thick, gooey and shimmery bead of precum on it. You watched, absentmindedly licking your lips when it trickled down the sides of his cock. You pushed yourself up, wanting to taste him but Jake held you down, causing you to shoot him a confused look.
"Next time, baby. Needa fuck you before I lose my mind," he confessed.
Your breath hitched but you nodded nonetheless, letting him manhandled you about. Jake scooted forward on his knees as you spread your legs, like you're a five-course meal presented on a table for him to feast on. He didn't push in first, choosing to rub the fat, leaking tip along your puffy folds, teasing you for what's to come.
You whined, bucking your hips forward but he clicked his tongue, pinning you down into the bed.
"Ah ah, I didn't say you can move, did I?" He tsked.
You keened. "Jake, please.. Fuck me already. Wanna feel you fill me up. Want your cock."
"Shit, you're driving me crazy," he cursed under his breath.
Before you knew it, he threw both of your legs above his shoulder, folding you into half until you're in missionary. He grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head and through your half-lidded, blurry eyes, you saw him made a gesture with his left hand and then—
Thwip.
What the…?
You glanced up, seeing your wrists were tightly tied together by a generous amount of webs. You tugged at it, unable to free yourself as the sticky fluids pressed into your skin. It wasn't painful but the thought of being stripped free usage of your limbs and left at Jake's mercy made arousal pooled in your stomach.
"Jake, yo—oh fuck!"
You tried to speak, only for you to let out a shameless loud moan that bounced off the walls of the bedroom at the mind-reeling sensation of him sliding in, the fat, mushroomy tip breaching past your folds, going deeper and deeper. The stretch was burning. You could feel every stretch, how your pussy was being stretched beyond its limit.
The sensible, logical part of you was chidding at you, telling you that you should've used lube or some form of prep before he slides in. But there's also another part of you—the one that ran on instincts and feelings, that mentioned this was more intimate, like how you're accepting all of him and vice versa.
It felt like forever once he bottomed out, buried deep inside you. You felt every ridge and inch of his cock brushing against your gummy walls as it struggled to accommodate to the grith of his cock. Jake, on the other hand, grit his teeth until it's grinding down on one another. His forehead was covered in a thin, glowing layer of sweat with sweat droplets rolling down his face.
"F-Fuck, baby, I-oh god, so tight," he gasped out, his breathing uneven and sounding utterly wrecked, like he's losing his mind the moment he felt your tight and warm pussy sucking him in.
You whimpered, struggling to breathe. What was a simple, mindless action became difficult. He's so deep that you could feel him hitting the back of your throat.
"M-Move," you croaked out, giving him permission.
At that, Jake pulled out until it's just the tip nestled between your folds, still in your entrance before he slammed his hips back against yours. He wasn't gentle, setting a already sloppy rhythm that had the bed shaking and creaking at every thrust. The bedframe smacked the wall and you knew you'll be hearing a neighbor complaint tomorrow. The thought flew out of your mind the moment he shifted his hips a little, stumbling upon that one delicate spot hidden between your walls.
You cried out, head thrown back against the pillow as he pistoned his hips against yours, like a man on a mission. His hands didn't stay in one place—more like he couldn't. He touched you wherever he could—your thighs, hips while being wary to not apply more pressure on the bruises and everywhere else.
He planted wet, sloppy kisses at your knees, tongue darting out to lick at it, like a kitten lapping at a plate of fresh, warm milk. You thrashed about underneath him, unsure if you want to be closer or further from him, unable to decide if you want him to continue fucking you like there's no tomorrow. The bedroom was filled with the lewd, obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin and your loud, unstoppable moans that he kept coaxing out of you.
Jake's cheeks were flushed, some strands of his hair sticking to his forehead. He looked down, only to be greeted with the mesmerizing sight of your pussy easily swallowing his cock whole without any resistance. He groaned, further bending you until his face hovered over yours, taking in the dazed out look you have.
"Thought about this for so long," he admitted, "thought how good you'd sound beneath me, taking my cock like the good girl you are."
You made an unrecognizable sound at his words, pussy tightening around him and it drew a hiss from him, the pace he set slowing down for a split second. You sobbed, tears of frustration and arousal prickling your eyes at his words, the sheer yearning and neediness he had for you and how long he had been craving for this very moment.
If your wrists were free, you would've wrapped them around his shoulders to pull him down for a kiss. Jake drove his hips forward, his previous set rhythm was losing its punctual thrusts, growing more sloppy and frantic. He's also more nosier, whimpering and groaning under his breath—one of the telltale signs he's reaching his climax.
You squealed, body violently jolting when Jake rubbed fast, furious circles on your engorged and red clit. Your thighs trembled, stomach tightening and twisting into itself.
"Jake, g-gonna—" You panted.
"Cum for me, baby. Cum on my cock," he demanded, lowering his head to kiss you.
All it took was one final thrust from him and you cum while moaning into his mouth, letting him suck on your tongue like it's a popsicle. Your walls convulsed around his cock, pulsing at an unsteady pace. Jake was quick to follow suit, burying himself deep to the hilt as he pumped you full with his cum until you felt unusually bloated, milking him dry.
Jake collapsed on top of you, drawing a soft "oof" at his body weight squashing you further into the sheets. The bedroom went quiet, other than the loud panting sound as both of you regained your breathing. You cleared your throat, blindly nudging him with your left knee.
"Mind freeing my wrists?" You murmured.
At that, he raised his head, a sheepish smile on his face. "Uh, it's not that easy to cut."
Silence.
"Say you're joking," you deadpanned.
"Nope!"
"Sim Jaeyun, you're lucky I love you that you're able to fuck me or I would've thrown you out of the window."
"Can't say I didn't find that hot."
"Oh my god."
~
An hour later, both of you have freshened up.
The dirtied sheets were tossed into the washing machine along with his suit, leaving him wearing nothing but his boxers. Your respective injuries were tended to with you and him taking turns. It's distracting for you, especially after having sex with your friend, who's also the same man that had you chanting his name like a sacred prayer an hour ago. Right now, both of you were seated on the couch with a half-eaten pizza box placed on the coffee table before you.
"Wait, so let me get this straight: you were bitten by a radioactive spider and that's how you became Spider-Man?" You asked through your mouthful of food, words barely audible.
Jake shot you a pointed look. "Swallow before you talk, (Name)."
You rolled your eyes and flipped him off, to which he snorted at your childishness, running a hand through his soft, fluffy black hair.
"But yeah, that's the summarized version. I figured what better way to put it to use other than saving people."
Your features softened, reaching out your free and clean hand to place it on his arm. The contact made him turned to you, giving you a questioning look.
"I think that's a heroic thing to do, Jake. I'm really proud of you," you murmured.
He stilled before he relaxed, shoulders dropping slightly. "Yeah, thank you."
It was quiet for a few seconds before you broke the silence with a question that's been lingering in the back of your mind, like a persistent parasite.
"So, how long did you have a crush on me?" You inquired.
Jake groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Oh no, why would you asked me that?"
You pushed yourself up, sinking further into the couch. "Uh, because I can? I have free speech? And you can't blame me for being curious! I let you fuck me so the least you can do is to answer it."
He pursed his lips, crossing his arms above the cushion pillow placed on his lap. "… I fell for you when we first met in uni."
You choked on your pizza slice, feeling the melted cheese nearly going down the wrong pipe. "W-Wait, first met? Jake, that's like one year ago!"
"I know!"
You stared at him with wide eyes, mind quickly connecting the dots. "That means.. you liked me for one year?"
Jake groaned, burying his face in his hands. "You don't have to keep repeating it, you know. It just makes me sound like a whipped idiot."
You placed the pizza slice down on the box, moving closer to him and gently knocked your knee against his. "Jake, look at me."
"No, I'm gonna swing myself out and hopefully fall to my death."
"Baby, please?"
He snapped his head up. "What did you just call me?"
"Baby," you repeated calmly, having the privilege of witnessing him malfunctioning from the petname used.
You reached out, grabbing his hands to pull it down until it's on the cushion. "Jake, I'm honored and impressed you managed to hide your feelings from me for one year. That's not a easy thing anyone can do. And for the record, I like you too."
His breath hitched, staring at you like you're a Goddess. "..Really? For how long?"
You coughed, eyes averted to the side. "..For a year too."
Jake snorted before bursting out into a fit of laughter, shoulders shaking as he giggled, oozing nothing but glee. You stared at him and huffed, moving to poke him in the chest while he kept smacking your hand away.
"Hey, what's so funny?" You complained but there's fondness dripping in your voice.
"Nothing, I think we're both idiots. If one of us confessed earlier, none of this would've happened," he replied, eyes trailing down your figure, staring at your hips—the exact same spot where there were fading bruises that was hidden by your shirt.
You cupped his face with your hands, thumbs tracing the skin beneath it, forcing him to meet your gaze. "When we confessed doesn't matter. What matters is that we're still alive and you've saved me. You're my hero, Jake."
Now Jake had heard the word 'hero' before from different people. From complete strangers he rescued or from his fans. But those were when he's wearing the suit and mask. When he was known as Spider-Man.
Now? Now, he's in your home, seated on your couch with a opened pizza box and you're looking at him like he's your entire world. He's not Spider-Man, the masked hero. Here, he's just Sim Jaeyun. Nothing more and nothing less.
His eyes teared up but he furiously blinked the tears away, refusing to let them fall. Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead against yours, your noses grazing.
"I love you," he breathed out.
"Love you too…" Your voice trailed off and you add in one more word with a teasing glint.
SYNOPSIS ─── After a car accident that costed you 3 years worth of memory, you find yourself trying to start a new beginning in a new city with "new" people. Only God knows why would the universe make you cross paths with the cute guy nextdoor.
𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : neighbor AU, fluff, slight angst, smut (MDNI)
𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 : yearner!jake, swearing, loss of memory, mention of a car accident, unprotected sex, p in v, oral sex (f. receiving), jake is an ass grabber, praising, creampie, mutual orgasm, switch!jake, loss of virginity, jake and reader's first time, fingering, riding, domestic scenes
𝐰𝐜 : 25.5k
❕# this is my goodbye gift !! Hope you’ll all like it :)
𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ──────
♯ 134340 - BTS
♯ Unconditional - JAEHYUN
♯ I.F.L.Y - Bazzi
♯ is it cool? - Steve Lacy ft. SZA
♯ pov - Ariana Grande
♯ XO (Only If You Say Yes) - ENHYPEN
♯ Get You - Daniel Caesar
♯ intro (end of the world) - Ariana Grande
♯ 3005 - Childish Gambino
♯ Tek It - Cafuné
♯ Roommates - Malcolm Todd
✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼ ✼ ҉ ✼ ҉ ✼ ✼ ҉ ✼ ҉
You wouldn't have thought that the cardboard box in your arms would be heavier than it has any right to be, given it's mostly filled with towels and a lamp that probably won't survive the move. You shift it against your hip, phone tucked between your ear and shoulder as Jungwon's voice crackles through the speaker.
"—and the landlord said the water pressure is good, but you should still check the boiler room, okay? Just in case. Mom keeps asking if you've eaten."
"I've eaten," you say, dumping the box onto the kitchen counter. The sound echoes in the empty space. "I ate a granola bar on the drive."
"That's not eating. You usually eat much more than that, Y/N."
You almost laugh. The corners of your mouth twitch, yet the energy to actually produce the sound feels too expensive. The new apartment is small, already making you hyperaware of your own breathing. White walls, beige carpet, a window that overlooks a fire escape and the back of a laundromat. It's nothing like your old place. And that's totally the point.
"There's a coffee shop down the street," you say instead, peering through the smudged glass of the window. "I saw it when I pulled in."
"Good, you should go there. Drink something with sugar and call me if you need anything."
"I will."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
The line goes dead, and the silence in the apartment rushes back in to fill the space. You stand there for a minute, only breathing, letting your new life settle into your bones. New city with a new apartment, and no memories of the last three years to trip over on your way to the bathroom.
You grab your keys and head out. The neighborhood is weirdly quiet even in the afternoon, it feels like everyone is holding their breath. Old brick buildings line the street, their facades streaked with years of rain. A bodega on the corner, a laundromat, and there, wedged between a bookstore and a clothing shop, the coffee shop. It's decorated with mismatched chairs and a counter cluttered with jars of homemade pastries. You order a black coffee because you don't trust your brain to make decisions, and you take it to a table by the window. You're halfway through the cup, watching a pigeon peck at a discarded wrapper, when the sky opens up. The rain comes down in sheets, loud and violent, rattling against the glass like it's trying to get in. You watch it for a while, then check your phone. It's already 5 PM.
"Excuse me," you say, approaching the counter. The barista, a tired-looking woman with flour on her apron, looks up. "Do you have an umbrella I could borrow? I just moved in across the street, I'll bring it back."
She blinks at you before she disappears into the back, returning a moment later with a flimsy black umbrella. It looks like the one you buy at a bodega for five dollars and immediately regret. "Keep it," she says. "We have like twelve of these."
The rain hasn't let up by the time you step outside. You pop the umbrella open, holding it tight as the wind tries to wrestle it from your grip. The street is a river now, the buildings blurred through the curtain of water. You walk quickly, splashing through puddles, your sneakers already soaked.
The apartment building is a relief when it comes into view. You duck into the alcove of the entrance, shaking water from your hair, and fumble with the umbrella to close it. The mechanism catches on something, and you jerk it, frustrated, only to have it flip open in a violent snap. A spray of water arcs outward, catching the person passing behind you square in the chest.
You freeze.
He freezes.
For an agonizing long moment, neither of you dare to move. He's standing half in the rain, half out, his white t-shirt now clinging to his torso with a growing dark patch. His hair is damp at the ends, dark brown and curling slightly. His eyes ; wide and startled ; scan your face with intensity, making you want to quickly apologize, but the words get caught somewhere in your throat.
His expression falters for the briefest moment. The certainty in his eyes gives way to hesitation, his gaze tracing your features as though something refuses to add up. His head tilts slightly, thoughtful rather than confused. You brace yourself for annoyance. For the kind of clipped anger that would be entirely justified.
Rather than that, he blinks, and a smile touches the corner of his mouth. It's not quite a smile, more like the ghost of one, uncertain and clumsy. "Hi," he says. His voice is a little rough, maybe from the cold. "Sorry, I was—do I know you?"
You shake your head, clutching the umbrella tightly. "I don't think so. I just moved in. I'm sorry about your shirt."
He glances down at the wet patch before looking back up at you. "Don't worry about it. It's just water." He's still looking at you, though. Too fucking long. His gaze lingers, waiting for...something. Whatever it is never comes. With a shake of his head, he drags a hand through his wet hair before a tiny smile finds its way onto his face, warming the corners of his eyes. "I'm Jake. I live in 9C down the hall."
"Y/N," you say. "5C."
"Welcome to the building."
"Thanks."
The rain continues to fall, filling the space between you with noise. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and you realize you're both just standing there, awkward and dripping, with nothing else to say.
"Well," he says, "I should probably go change. Before I catch a cold."
"Oh, right. Yeah. Sorry again."
"Don't be."
He heads for the elevator, and you watch him go, his wet footprints staining the floor. He pauses with his hand on the button, and for only a second, you think he might turn back or might say something else. But then the door swings open, and he disappears inside.
You stand there for another minute, the broken umbrella dangling from your hand, the rain hammering against the awning above you. The feeling of his gaze on your face lingers, unsettled, like a half-remembered dream.
You close the apartment door behind you and lean against it. The key is still in your hand. The broken umbrella is still in the other. Your socks are soaked through because you forgot to wipe your feet.
None of that registers.
Because Jake ; apartment 9C, white t-shirt, gray hoodie, hole in his jeans ; had a face that shouldn't exist outside of Renaissance paintings and the occasional fever dream. Sharp jaw and messy hair that looked intentional even though it definitely wasn't. And his eyes, soft and curious, doing that slow scan of your features like he was reading something he couldn't put down.
You slide down the door until you're sitting on the floor.
This doesn't happen to you.
No—correction. This has never happened to you. You've read about it, sure. Pages in secondhand paperbacks where the protagonist trips and falls into a stranger's arms and he just happens to have cheekbones that could cut diamonds. You've rolled your eyes at those scenes and called them unrealistic. You told yourself that real life doesn't come with lighting cues and slow motion. However, standing on those steps with rain dripping off his chin and an animal shelter's worth of grime on his wrist, he had no business being that striking. That disarming. That stupidly attractive.
Your brain caught on the way he'd looked at you. Not like he was checking you out but more like he was searching for something. A flicker of recognition that didn't meant nothing if you recoil on it. And after that the shrug, and the introduction so smooth it had to be accidental.
Jake.
You press the heels of your palms against your eyes. Are you freaking kidding me ?
"You're being ridiculous." you tell the empty apartment.
Three hours later, you've unpacked exactly one box ; where it cointained your sheets and a single mug shaped like a cactus that Jungwon bought you as a joke three birthdays ago. The mug is now sitting on the kitchen counter, empty, staring at you judgmentally.
He keeps finding his way back into your thoughts. Not because you're trying to hold on to him, and surely not because you can't move on. It happens almost absentmindedly, the way your brain revisits familiar things when it's left alone. How his voice sounded slightly wrecked, like he'd been yelling or laughing or both. The smudge on his wrist ; potting soil, probably, if the canvas bag full of clinking jars was any indication. Pickles? Jam? The man had twelve jars of something and dirt on his hands and he lived four apartment next to yours.
You catch your reflection in the bathroom mirror and frown at yourself.
"Girl, you don't even know his last name." you say.
You go to bed early because there's nothing else to do. The new apartment sounds are unusual, there's more creaks and fewer sirens. At 2:17 AM, someone in the building starts playing the guitar badly. You fall asleep to a mangled rendition of "Wonderwall".
─────────
The alarm drags you from sleep sharply. You bat at your phone until the noise stops, and lie there, blinking at the still unfamiliar ceiling, reacquainting yourself with the fact that this is your life now. Everything was going to be new now.
By the time you've wrestled yourself into something presentable, you're already running five minutes behind. You skip breakfast, grab your bag, and lock the door behind you.
The elderly home sits at the end of a tree-lined street, a squat brick building, you almost mistook it for a community center. The receptionist gives you a visitor's badge and points you toward the common room, where a handful of residents are scattered across armchairs, some dozing, some staring at a muted television, one engaged in a heated argument with a plant.
You're barely through the door when a woman appears at your elbow, small and bright-eyed, with a name tag that reads Hanni in cheerful block letters. "New hire?" she asks, already steering you toward a supply closet. "Thank god. I've been doing double shifts for three weeks. I'm Hanni. You're Y/N. I read your file. It said you have experience with dementia patients. That's good, because Jacob over there—" she jerks her chin toward a man in a cardigan who's now trying to feed his coffee to the plant, "—thinks he's a squirrel."
You blink. "A squirrel?"
"Don't ask. Just go with it. If he offers you acorns, take them."
The day unfolds. You help Mrs. Han find her glasses (they were on her head), you listen to Mr. Eom's stories about a bakery he ran forty years ago, and you learn the exact difference between the "good" applesauce and the "bad" applesauce. Hanni works beside you with effortless competence, cracking jokes under her breath and seamlessly redirecting residents who wander toward the exit. "You're pretty good at this," she says during a break, as you both stand at the nurses' station, scribbling notes. "Most new people get that deer-in-headlights look for at least a week. You just sort of absorbed it."
You shrug, not sure how to explain that this ; the slow pace, the gentle repetition, the small dignities of helping someone remember their own name ; it feels like the only thing you're certain about these days. "It's not that hard. They just want to be seen."
Hanni studies you for a moment, something curious flickering behind her eyes. Then she nods, and the moment passes.
Your shift ends, your feet ache and your brain feels pleasantly fuzzy, which doesn't leave room for anxiety. You change out of your scrubs, say goodbye to Hanni, and step out into the evening air.
The street is calm, the rain from yesterday reduced to a thin dampness on the pavement. You're walking toward your building, hands shoved in your jacket pockets, when you round the corner and nearly collide with someone coming the other way.
Fuck, it's him.
Jake.
He's wearing a different shirt ; navy this time, sleeves pushed up to his elbows ; and he's carrying a cardboard pack of beer tucked under one arm. His hair is dry, pulled up in a little ponytail at the back, and the sight of him in the golden light of early evening hits you like a delayed punch.
"Oh," you say. Why now?
He stops. For a heartbeat, something unsettles his expression, his eyes lingering on you a fraction too long. Then, it melts away, something softer taking place. "Hey. Y/N, right?"
"Oh, you remembered." The words come out flatter than you wanted them to be, yet your pulse is doing a ridiculous drum solo again.
"I remember a lot of things," he says, there's a strange weight to the phrase, like he's saying something else underneath it. He gestures with the beer. "You're heading back?"
"Yeah. I just finished my first day at the elderly home down the street."
"How was it?"
"Exhausting. Good, though. I think. One of the residents offered me a fake acorn, so I'm taking that as a sign of approval."
He laughs, low and surprised, you can see that he didn't expect to find it funny. "That's a pretty solid endorsement. I'd trust fake acorn guy over most people."
You fall into step together, and you notice how he adjusts his pace to match yours, shortening his stride just slightly. The street stretches ahead, lined with those old brick buildings, the sky above streaked with pale orange and lavender. You nod toward the beer. "Expecting company, or is that just for personal purpose?"
He glances down at the pack, a sheepish smile tugging at his mouth. "I'm having friends over tonight. A couple of guys from the shelter—I work at the animal shelter a few blocks over. We do this thing every other Thursday. It's mostly just eating takeout and arguing about which dog breed is objectively the best."
"Which one is?"
"Rescue," he says immediately. "All of them."
You snort. "I think so too."
"Right? This is why we're going to get along." He says it casually, the words land in your chest with an unexpected weight.
The building comes into view, its facade warm in the fading light. He holds the door open for you, and you step into the foyer, the familiar smell of old carpet and someone's cooking drifting through the hallway. At your door you fumble for your keys, and he lingers, shifting the beer from one arm to the other.
"Good first day," he says. "At the job, I mean."
"Thanks." You find the right key, fit it into the lock. "Have fun with your friends. Try not to let the argument escalate into a physical altercation."
"No promises. We're very passionate about this." He's already turning, already stepping back toward his door, when something makes you call out : "Jake."
He stops and looks back.
"Thanks for walking me," you say. "Even if you didn't have to."
A small shrug. "It's fine. I wanted to, anyway." And he's already gone, his footsteps echoing in the corridor, and you're left standing in your doorway, keys still in hand, watching the space where he was.
You unlock the door, step inside, and close it behind you. The apartment is mostly empty, since your laziness won over you to unpack the rest of your stuff. You press your back against the door and stare at the ceiling.
This, you think, is exactly the kind of thing I'd roll my eyes at in a book.
Regardless, you can't stop the smile that spreads across your face, slow and helpless and embarrassingly real.
You're sprawled across the couch, legs tangled in a throw blanket, the glow of the television painting your face in shifting blues and reds. Some reality show about people competing to bake things that look like other things. It's mindless and perfect, exactly the sort of programming that requires zero cognitive effort. Your oversized t-shirt hangs off one shoulder with Justin Bieber's face from his Purpose World Tour, faded and cracked from years of washing. Below that, nothing but a pair of plain cotton panties. Your hair is messy, and there's a half-empty mug of tea growing cold on the floor beside you. You're comfortable. Vulnerable, maybe, but in the privacy of your own space, and that's all that matters.
Your gaze wanders into the kitchen and lands on the trash bin that is overflowing with flattened boxes and crumpled packing paper, the remains of a move you’re still halfway through. It doesn’t look like much, but you know it’ll be the first thing to irritate you in the morning if it’s left untouched. You weigh the options. Get dressed and actually put on pants, find a bra, the whole tedious ritual, or just…go. It's a quick trip. The trash chute is at the end of the hallway, maybe twenty steps from your door. The corridor has been empty all evening. And Jake has friends over. He's occupied. He's not going to be lurking around corners, waiting to ambush you with his inconveniently-timed presence.
Nobody will see you, you tell yourself. It's fine. You're fast as fuck.
You pad to the door, press your eye to the peephole. The hallway stretches, empty. Clear. You crack the door open, just wide enough to slip through, and you're out, barefoot, the cold floor sending a shiver up your legs. The trash bag is heavier than you expected ; you hoist it against your hip, jogging in that awkward, flat-footed way of someone who's both in a hurry and deeply aware of their own exposure. The chute is a metal hatch in the wall. You heave it open, shove the bag inside, hear it clatter down into the abyss. Mission accomplished.
You turn, already planning your retreat, and—
He's standing three feet away. Oh fuck off.
Jake.
He's holding a bulging trash bag of his own, the clink of glass bottles audible as he adjusts his grip. His eyes travel from your face down to the faded Bieber shirt, then back up, and there's a beat of silence where neither of you move. Your brain short-circuits and your mouth opens. What comes out is a garbled mix of syllables that might have been intended as "hey" but emerges as something closer to "heh—uh—I—"
He blinks. Slowly, the corner of his mouth twitches. "Didn't mean to startle you," he says, and his voice is level, calm, almost like he's trying to soothe a startled animal.
"You didn't—I mean, I was just—" You gesture clumsily at your attire, then at the trash chute, then back at yourself, as if this chain of context will explain everything. "The trash was full. And I didn't think anyone would be—I mean, you said you had friends—"
"Friends," he confirms. "They left about ten minutes ago. I was just cleaning up."
"Of course you were. That makes sense." You're still standing there, bare-legged, the shirt barely grazing your thighs, and the hallway suddenly feels like a wind tunnel. You cross your arms over your chest, which does absolutely nothing to help the situation. Jake doesn’t leer nor does he joke. He meets your eyes with that same searching look, softened now into quiet amusement. "You know," he says, "you have a habit of running into me in unexpected situations."
"This is your fault," you say, and the words come out sharp without real bite behind them. "You're supposed to be busy. That was the whole point."
"Sorry to inconvenience you by taking out my trash."
"You're not sorry, are you?"
"No," he admits, his half-smile edges into fuller one. "I'm not." He steps past you toward the chute, and you catch a whiff of a clean and comforting scent, the ordinary scent of someone who's recently showered. He drops his bag in, closes the hatch with a metallic thunk and turns back. "See you around, Bieber," he says, the warmth in the nickname makes your stomach flip.
He's walking back toward his apartment door, and you're standing once again, your face heating in an inexorable crawl. You wait until his footsteps fade before you scurry back to your door, slip inside, and press your back against the wood. The television is still playing, some contestant weeping over a collapsed trompe-l'oeil. You stare at the screen, unseeing.
Bieber.
You look down at the faded face on your shirt, at your bare legs, at the utter mess of your appearance, and you press the heels of your palms into your eyes like the day before. You're still standing with your back against the door, willing your face to return to a normal temperature, when the knock comes.
Three sharp raps.
Your entire body goes still. The television babbles on, oblivious, as you press your eye to the peephole. Jake. Of course. He's standing there, hands in his pockets, looking down at the floor, he's waiting for something. He's changed into a gray sweatshirt, hood down, hair slightly mussed. You don't open the door. You can't, not after what he just witnessed. Not with this shirt still on.
"What?" you call through the wood, and your voice comes out higher, strained.
"Y/N," His voice is muffled but clear. "I know you're in there."
"I'm not opening the door."
A pause. "I'm not asking you to."
"Why are you here then?"
He pauses again. You can hear him shift his weight. "I just wanted to say—" He stops, and you imagine him running a hand through his hair, figuring out how to phrase something. "The shirt. I really like it."
You press your forehead against the door. "You're lying."
"I'm not. I had that exact one in middle school and I wore it until the print started peeling off."
"That doesn't make it better."
"Maybe not." His voice carries a smile, you can hear it, the slight lift in the vowels. "I thought you should know, though. That's all."
You stay silent, unsure how to answer. The pause settles in, comfortable rather than tense, and you notice he isn’t hurrying to fill it.
"Anyways," he says finally, "goodnight, Y/N."
You hear footsteps, receding. You wait until the sound fades completely before you let out a breath you were holding deeply. Your reflection stares back at you from the peephole's warped glass, only a blur of color, but you can feel the heat still lingering in your cheeks. You push off from the door, walk back to the couch, and collapse into the cushions. The reality show contestants are still crying about pastries. You look down at Justin Bieber's faded face. At the cracked screen print and the worn collar.
He had this exact one in middle school, what a coincidence.
You pull the hem of the shirt, stretch it, let it snap back. An involuntary sound escapes your throat. It might be a laugh or anything else. You grab your phone, open your messages, and type out a single line to Jungwon.
Y/N [11:52 PM]
I think I'm in trouble.
But you delete it, toss the phone aside, and stare at the ceiling until your heartbeat settles to normal again.
It takes a while.
─────────
The morning came faster than you thought. You grab the umbrella on your way out ; the same flimsy black one that started this whole foolish chain of events ; and stop by the coffee shop before your shift. The barista barely glances up as you set it on the counter.
"Thanks," you say. "For letting me borrow it."
She waves a hand, already reaching for a pitcher of milk. "Keep it next time. We've got a whole graveyard of those things in the back."
You almost tell her there won't be a next time, yet the words feel like tempting fate, so you just nod and head out.
The elderly home is already rumbling when you arrive. Hanni greets you with a coffee cup thrust into your hands and a breathless update about Mr. Eom's missing dentures. You take a sip, let the caffeine do its work, and fall into the cadence of the morning.
By early afternoon, the sun is actually warm enough to justify a walk. You round up three residents ; Mrs. Han, who's having a good day and remembers your name, Mr. Chen, who doesn't say much but mumbles tunelessly under his breath and Jacob, who offered you the fake acorn. He's wearing a different cardigan today, mustard yellow, and he keeps patting his pockets like he's checking for something. The path behind the building winds through a small garden, past benches and bird feeders and a sad little fountain that hasn't worked in years. You walk slowly, matching their pace, letting Mrs. Han point out flowers she's identified incorrectly and pretending to take Jacob's commentary seriously.
It's peaceful, nearly meditative. A moment like this makes you wonder if this new life really is as bad as you thought.
Abruptly, a dog comes out of nowhere. A golden retriever ; young, gangly, all oversized paws and manic energy ; bounds across the grass with the focus of a missile. It's not aggressive and not even barking. It's excited, and its excitement is directed straight at Jacob, who is the slowest-moving, most startle-prone member of your little group. The dog lunges up before you can react, front paws slamming into Jacob’s chest. He rocks back, arms windmilling, then drops in a slow heap, feeling like it’s happening in two conflicting speeds at once.
"Jacob!" You're at his side in an instant, dropping to your knees, hands hovering unevenly. "Are you okay? Did you hit your head?"
Jacob blinks up at you, more confused than pained. His glasses are askew. "I dropped my acorn," he says.
"I'll find it. Just—stay still. Tell me if anything hurts."
A voice cuts through the chaos, alert and breathless. "Oh god—I'm so sorry—"
You look up. Jake is sprinting toward you, the dog's leash trailing behind him like a forgotten flag. He's in work clothes ; a navy polo with the shelter's logo, dirt smudged on his forearm ; and his face is veiled with unguarded panic.
The dog, oblivious, is now trying to lick Jacob's ear.
"Leo, down!" Jake grabs the dog's collar, hauls him back with a firm yet gentle tug. "I am so, so sorry. He got loose—I was just bringing him out for a walk and he saw the—are you okay? Is he okay?"
You're already helping Jacob sit up, checking his wrists, his neck, the back of his head. No swelling or bleeding. He's still patting his pockets for the acorn.
"He's fine," you say, your voice flat. "He's just disoriented."
"Thank god." Jake exhales, and some of the tension leaves his shoulders. "I really am—I should have had a better grip on the leash. He's young, he's still learning, but that's not an excuse—"
"You're right." You stand, brushing grass from your knees. "It's not."
The silence that follows is stiffling. Mrs. Han is watching with curious eyes, Mr. Chen has stopped mumbling, and Leo is now sitting at Jake's feet, tail excitedly wagging. You turn to Jake fully. "You work at a shelter. You know how unpredictable dogs can be. Especially around elderly people. One wrong jump, one fall, and it's a broken bone or a concussion. That could actually hurt someone."
Jake meets your gaze without a trace of defensiveness or excuses. He simply nods slowly, his jaw tightening in restraint. "You're right," he says. "I wasn't careful enough. I got distracted, and I let him pull ahead, and I should have anticipated that this could happen." He glances at Jacob, who is now patting Leo's head with a delighted smile. "I'm really glad he's okay. And I'm sorry you had to deal with that."
The words settle with an unexpected weight, disarming you. You were ready for deflection, for something casual and rehearsed. Regardless, he stays still, accepting it without trying to cushion the blow.
You let out a breath. The adrenaline is fading, leaving behind a shaky residue. "Be more careful," you say, and your voice is quieter now. "Please."
"I will." He holds your gaze for another beat, and crouches down to Jacob's level. "Hey, sir. That was my dog. He's really sorry. Are you okay?"
Jacob looks at him, then at Leo before his gaze goes back at his empty palm. "I lost my acorn," he says, there's a note of genuine distress in his voice. Jake doesn't miss a beat. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a small smooth stone and presses it into Jacob's hand. "Here. I found this, it must've been yours."
Jacob stares at it. His face splits into a wide, gap-toothed smile. "Thank you," he says, and clutches it like treasure.
You watch it unfold, something uneasy tightening in your chest. Jake stands and meets your gaze again. A flash crosses his face ; rueful, or closer to hope. "I'll make sure he's more secured next time," Jake says, nodding toward Leo. "And if there's anything I can do—"
"There isn't," you say, but the sharpness has gone from your voice. "But still...keep a closer eye on him."
"Always." He turns and walks back toward the path, Leo trotting obediently at his heel. You watch him go, the way his shoulders are slightly hunched, how he glances back once before rounding the corner.
Mrs. Han sidles up to you. "He's cute," she states. "The boy. Not the dog."
You open your mouth, not a sound escaping your mouth. You try again.
"Mrs. Han," you say, "you're supposed to be on my side."
"I am on your side," she says, patting your arm. "That's why I'm telling you."
You help Jacob to his feet, find his acorn in the grass, and start the slow walk back to the building. Your thoughts drift elsewhere, replaying Jake crouching down to Jacob’s level, finding the stone without hesitation, saying 'I will' like he truly meant it.
You shake your head, focus on the path ahead.
After you end your shift, you walk back to your apartment. The sky has gone hazy, and you keep your hands in your pockets, replaying the afternoon in fragments. You unlock your door, kick off your shoes, and collapse onto the couch. The television is still on from last night. You turn it off, let the silence settle.
You decide to pull out your phone and call Jungwon. He picks up, but the background noise is a wall of bass and overlapping voices. You can hear a bunch of voice shouting "CHUG CHUG CHUG!!!" and loud cheers. You hear a door slam, the noise muffles.
"Y/N?" His voice is slightly breathless. "Everything okay?"
"Everything's fine," you say, and you mean it. "I just wanted to check in. You sound busy, though."
"I'm at a mixer party with my house and sororities. It's loud so I stepped outside." He stops for a second. "Are you sure you're okay? You never call this late."
"Late? It's like seven."
"Yeah. You're usually asleep by now."
You fairly laugh. "I've been more awake lately. I had a long day."
"Tell me about it."
So you do. You tell him about everything. You don't want to mention Jake.
"You sound good," Jungwon says when you finish. " Really good. Not just saying you're good."
"I think I am," you say, the words surprise you with their honesty.
"That's all I needed to hear." There's a muffled shout from behind him, someone calling his name. "I should get back. But call me anytime, okay? Even if it's just to complain about old people and dogs."
"Old people and dogs. The two pillars of my existence now."
"Don't let the dogs jump on you," he mentions, you can hear the smile in his voice.
"I won't. Have fun at your party."
"Love you."
"Love you too."
The line goes dead. You hold the phone for a moment before setting it aside, letting the quiet wrap around you. You stand, stretch, and gather your clothes for a shower, a clean towel, a change of underwear, the softest pair of sweatpants you own. You pad toward the bathroom, already anticipating the hot water, the steam, and the small escape from your own head.
You're two steps from the bathroom door when the lights flicker.
Once. Twice. It dies.
The apartment plunges into absolute darkness. No sound from the refrigerator, no glow from the microwave clock, just black, thick and total. You stand there, motionless, one hand gripping your towel, the other reaching for the wall. You feel along the switch, flick it up and down. There's nothing.
You step to the window to peer out. The streetlights are on. The building across the way is lit, warm rectangles of gold in every window. The coffee shop's neon sign still glows. You check your phone to see your battery at 60%. You switch on the flashlight, sweep it across the room. So it's only your apartment. The refrigerator is dead. The outlets are dead. The overhead light, the bathroom ; all dead. You flip the circuit breaker in the tiny panel by the door. Shit. You try the main switch. Nothing.
You stand there in the beam of your phone, your reflection ghostly in the dark window glass, wearing that stupid Justin Bieber shirt and holding a bundle of clean clothes, and you realize you have no flashlight, no candles, and mostly, no backup plan.
The silence presses in. 9C. A certain neighbor who might have a working outlet and a willingness to share. A part of you notes, almost critically, that this would be the kind of contrived convenience you’d hate in a book.
You sigh, grab your keys, and head for the door.
The hour stretches like taffy. You've tried the circuit breaker three times, called the landlord four times, and texted him twice, giving you no results. The voicemail picks up on the first ring, a generic recording without a name. You sit next to your door and consider your options. There's a motel two blocks away. There's the coffee shop, but they close in fifteen minutes. It got to be a joke.
And there's the door at the end of the hallway.
You pace. You argue with yourself. You list all the reasons this is a terrible idea ; all the incidents that happened and degraded your confidence, the fact that you've known this man for approximately forty-eight hours and he's already seen you at your most unguarded multiple times. But the need for a shower wins. You smell like old people and grass, with the sublte tang of anxiety sweat. You can't go to work like this tomorrow and you can't sleep like this tonight. So you put on a pair of shorts ; the longest ones you own ; and a different shirt, and you walk toward his door with the weight of your own dignity dragging behind you.
His door is at the end of the hall. You knock before you can talk yourself out of it. The door swings open. Jake stands there in a faded gray t-shirt and sweatpants, hair slightly damp, a dish towel slung over his shoulder. He's holding a half-eaten apple. His eyes land on you. Travel down to your shorts, back up to your face.
His mouth curves into a smile so wide, so unapologetically amused, that you feel it like a punch right in your guts.
"Bieber," he says. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Don't call me that." The words come out weak, deflated. "My power's out. The landlord won't answer and I absolutely need a shower."
He takes a bite of his apple. He chews slowly, considers you.
"Just the shower," you add, and you can hear how defensive you sound, how utterly transparent.
"I didn't say anything." He steps back, holds the door open. "Come in."
His apartment is small too, but lived-in. A couch with a blanket draped over the back. A stack of books on the coffee table. A guitar propped in the corner. The kitchen is visible from the living room, dishes drying on a rack, a pot of something that smells like garlic and tomatoes simmering on the stove. "Bathroom's down the hall, second door on the left," he says, pointing with the apple still in hands. "Towels are in the cabinet. Use whatever you need."
"Thanks." You pause at the threshold, suddenly aware of the absurdity of this. "I'll be quick."
"Take your time." That smile again, softer now. "I'll keep the apartment from burning down while you're in there."
You close the bathroom door behind you and lean against it, exhaling. Hot water, steady pressure, a luxurious flow that makes you forget every indignity that led you here. You stand under the spray as long as you can, letting it beat against your shoulders, your neck, the tension you've been carrying since yesterday. When you finally step out, wrapped in a towel, you catch your reflection in the mirror. Wet hair and pink cheeks. A stupid smile that you can't suppress.
Stop it. You wipe the steam from the mirror, and that's when you notice it. On the edge of the sink, next to a half-empty bottle of cologne, is a keychain. A small, plastic orange. Slightly faded, the paint worn at the edges.
Your breath catches. You have that exact same keychain. It's been on your keys for as long as you can remember. Well, as long as your memory goes back, which is not even a year. It's one of the few objects that survived the move, one of the small constants in the fog of your past.
You pick it up and turn it over. It's identical, even the little chip in the paint near the stem matches. You stare at it for a long moment. You dress quickly, step out into the hallway, and find Jake in the kitchen, stirring the pot on the stove. "Everything okay?" he asks without turning.
"Where did you get this?" You hold up the keychain.
He turns and sees it. For an instant, his expression falters into recognition before it smooths itself back into neutrality. "Oh, that." He sets down the spoon, wipes his hands on his sweatpants. "I found it, actually. A few years ago, on the street, I think. I kept it because—" He pauses, and you notice the way his eyes shift, slightly, like he's rearranging words in his head. "It reminded me of something. I don't know. I just liked it."
The explanation comes out too smooth and too rehearsed. You're wondering if he's said it before, practiced it, polished it until it sounded natural. You're not even sure why, something about how he said it, but you don't have the energy to interrogate right now. "Funny," you say, pocketing your own keys, where your matching orange dangles. "I have the same one."
He looks at you. You feel like you're standing on the edge of a cliff, for a jump you're not ready for.
"That is funny," he says, and his voice is softer now, almost distant. "Small world."
You nod, not trusting your voice. The moment stretches, fragile, and you're the one who breaks it. "I should go. Thanks for the shower."
"Anytime." He walks you to the door, and the teasing smile has returned. "If the power's still out tomorrow, you know where to find me."
"Bold of you to assume I'll survive that long."
"I have faith in you."
You roll your eyes, yet you're smiling as you step into the hallway. The door clicks shut behind you. You stand there for a moment, your keychain warm in your palm, and wonder what exactly you've just walked into. It's probably nothing, you tell yourself.
Oh it's definitely something.
─────────
A few days pass, you're unpacking one box at a time, learning where the light switches are without having to think about it, catching the same bus at the same time each morning until the driver starts to nod at you like an old acquaintance.
You see Jake in the hallways more often than coincidence should allow. Tuesday morning, you're leaving for work and he's coming back from a run, sweaty and out of breath, and he raises a hand in greeting without breaking stride. Fuck he's hot.
Wednesday evening, you're carrying a bag of groceries and he's hauling a bag of dog food toward the elevator, and you end up walking side by side without discussing it. Thursday, you don't see him at all, and you catch yourself checking the peephole before bed like a woman waiting for something she won't admit to wanting.
Friday arrives with gray skies and the particular exhaustion of a full week. You've just changed into sweatpants.
Three taps. You know who it is before you look. Jake is standing in the hallway wearing a knitted sweater and he's holding his keys in his hand. He looks different at night ; softer, somehow. The hard angles of his jaw blurred by the low light.
"I'm heading to the convenience store," he announces.
You lean against the doorframe. "It's eight o'clock."
"I'm aware. That's why I said convenience store and not, like, a sit-down restaurant." He jingles his keys. "You want to come?"
You hesitate for a second too long, and he catches it. His expression shifts into something hesitant. "For the accident," he adds. "Last week, with Jacob. I've been meaning to…I don't know. Make up for it, in a small way. This is the small way."
"You're making up for catastrophe with a trip to 7-Eleven?"
"Don't call it that. I'd rather call it a restitution." He pauses. "Also they have those frozen slushies that turn your tongue blue, and I don't want to drink one alone because that feels sad even by my standards."
You look down at your sweatpants. "Give me two minutes," you say.
"You look fine."
"I know I look fine. I want to look like I didn't just spend an hour lying on my floor thinking about nothing."
He blinks. "That's—"
"Two minutes." You close the door and change into jeans. You don't know why. It's just the convenience store after all. Although you put on real pants anyway, and you run your fingers through your hair, and when you open the door again, he's still standing there, checking his phone. "Cute," he says, not looking up.
"Shut up."
The walk is short ; five blocks, past the coffee shop with the broken umbrellas, past a laundromat, and past a house with a porch light that flickers like it's sending morse code. The air is cold enough to see your breath, and Jake walks on the street side of the sidewalk without making a thing out of it.
You two arrive at the convenience store, with the buzzing lights overhead. A bell dings when you walk in. The guy behind the counter is watching a small TV mounted in the corner, some sports game apparently.
You grab a basket and Jake grabs another. "This is a competition now," he says.
"It's always been a competition."
The snack aisle is narrow, forcing you to stand closer than necessary. You reach for a bag of chips. He reaches for the same bag. Your hands collide, and he lets you take it without a fight, which is suspicious. "You're being nice," you say.
"What do you mean? I'm always nice."
"No but, like, you're being strategically nice."
He grins. It's crooked and quick, making your chest tighten. "I just want you to let your guard down so I can steal the last bag of sour stripes."
"I don't even like sour stripes."
"Everyone likes sour stripes. That's like saying you don't like breathing."
You move down the aisle, scanning the shelves. Your fingers hover over a bag of shrimp crackers ; the spicy kind, bright red packaging, which Jungwon used to make fun of you for buying in bulk. You reach for them at the same time he does. "These," he says, pushing the bag toward you. "Get these."
"I was going to."
"They're your favorite, right?"
You stop. Your hand freezes over the bag. "I didn't tell you that."
He's already looking at the next shelf, picking up a pack of chocolate cookies, turning it over to read the nutrition facts. His expression doesn't change. His voice is casual, almost bored. "Everyone likes spicy shrimp crackers," he says. "It's not some niche preference. It's a classic. Like salt and vinegar. Or barbecue."
"That's not—"
"I'm getting these," he interrupts, holding up the cookies. "You want a drink? They have that weird melon soda. Everyone says that it tastes like liquid gummy bear."
You stare at the back of his head in confusion. He's walking toward the drink cooler, shoulders relaxed, like the conversation is already over. You grab the shrimp crackers and follow him.
The park is two blocks from your building, a small wedge of grass with three benches and a set of swings that face a community garden. The swings are old, their chains rusty, seats scratched with names and dates, but they hold your weight when you sit. Jake takes the swing next to yours. The plastic bags dangle from his wrist, crinkling every time he moves. You've split everything down the middle ; your shrimp crackers, his chocolate cookies, two bottles of the melon soda, a shared bag of sour striped that he claimed were for everyone, still you've noticed he keeps eating.
The soda fizzes when you open it. The park is empty except for the two of you and a cat sitting on a bench across the grass, watching like it's waiting for something to happen. You swing a little, just enough to rock. The chains squeak.
"My brother," you say, because the silence feels good but you want to fill it anyway. "He's the reason I moved here. Not because he lives here—he doesn't. He lives like four hours away. He helped me find the apartment and with all the packing."
Jake doesn't say anything. He's unwrapping a chocolate cookie, breaking it in half.
"He's in college now," you continue. "Fraternity guy, and he’s so serious about it, which is funny because he's also the least intimidating person I've ever met. Once he cried because I didn’t want to go with him at the dentist."
"That’s cute."
"He's sensitive." You shrug. "He'd kill me if he knew I was telling you this."
"I won't tell."
The cat on the bench yawns. The swings creak. You take a sip of your melon soda and watch the clouds move past the streetlights.
"Jungwon," Jake says.
You almost choke.
"What?"
"Your brother." He's looking at his hands, turning the cookie over and over. "His name. You said it. Jungwon."
You frown. Your brain backtracks through the last thirty seconds, replaying your own words. You definitely didn't say his name. You've been careful about that by habit. Jungwon is precious to you. His name is something you keep close, like a photo in a wallet. "I didn't say his name," you say slowly.
His chewing stops. His throat moves as he swallows. The openness on his face is convincing enough to pass for genuine, if not for the faint impression that he's worn it many times before.
"You didn't?"
"No."
"Huh." He dusts cookie crumbs off his fingers. "Maybe I heard it wrong, or you mentioned it before and I remembered. I don't know."
"I've never mentioned his name."
The silence stretches. The cat on the bench stands up, circles once, lies back down. He sets the cookie down on the plastic bag between you. He wipes his hands on his jeans. For a moment, he looks like he's going to say something else that might explain the way he looked at you that first night on the steps, like he was trying to place you.
His shoulders drop. "He came by," he declares. "Before you moved in. Your brother, Jungwon." He says the name carefully, testing each syllable. "He was checking out the building and making sure the landlord wasn't sketchy. I ran into him in the hallway."
You stare at him.
"He asked me about the neighborhood," Jake continues. "Whether it was safe. Whether people were friendly, and all that stuff." A small smile, almost self-deprecating. "I think he was doing a background check on all the tenants."
"That sounds like him."
"Yeah." He picks up his soda to take a long drink. "He mentioned you, and that you were moving in. I remembered."
It fits, it’s plausible. Jungwon would absolutely do something like that ; interview strangers in hallways, gather informations, build a mental map of everyone who might cross your path. He's been doing it since you were kids, since before the accident, before you forgot a quarter your life.
Nonetheless, something about how Jake tells it feels off. The words are right and the timing is too. Yet, his hands are still, and his hands are never still on the daily basis. He's always tapping or fidgeting or running his fingers through his hair, and right now, sitting on this swing in the dark, he's perfectly motionless. You want to push further. There's something in the back of your mind, a nagging feeling that you couldn’t put a finger on. You can’t, the evening is too nice, and he's bought you snacks. You let it go.
"Small world," you say, echoing his words from the night when you took a shower at his place.
"Small world," he agrees.
─────────
You walk into the elderly home with your hair still damp and the taste of the spicy shrimp crackers lingering at the back of your throat. Hanni's already at the nurses' station, flipping through a clipboard with focus, she’s been here for hours. "You look less dead than yesterday," she says without looking up. "That's progress."
"I slept." You hang your jacket on the hook and grab your name tag. "Almost eight hours. Uninterrupted."
"Must be the neighborhood atmosphere." She finally glances at you, there's a knowing tilt to her mouth. "Or something else."
You ignore that last part. The morning unfolds like every other morning ; the slow parade of residents who need help finding their glasses or their dentures or their way back to their rooms. Mrs. Han asks you three times if you've met her son, and you say yes each time, and each time she looks satisfied and moves on. You're in the common room, helping Mr. Chen with a puzzle he's been working on for weeks, when your gaze drifts toward the window. The street outside is quiet, the morning light still pale and thin. And there, on the other side, is Jake. Can he not look hot for just one day?
He's walking three dogs at once ; a golden retriever, a wiry terrier, and a bulldog that seems to be leading the pack. The leashes cross and uncross as the dogs weave around each other, and Jake's holding them with the practiced looseness of someone who's done this a hundred times. He's wearing a worn denim jacket and a few strands of hair are falling on his face, and when he glances up and spots you through the glass, his whole face shifts. He lifts his free hand to give you a small wave, fingers wiggling. You wave back, your brain couldn’t catch.
The bulldog tugs him forward and he's gone, swallowed by the next block. You turn back to the room. Hanni's standing beside you, arms crossed, watching the empty street with an ambiguous expression plastered on her face. "That’s him?" she asks.
"Yeah."
She hums in a considering sound. "He's fucking hot."
You snort, but it comes out wrong, sounding a bit too defensive. "Yeah. He knows it too, I think."
"He doesn't seem like the type who knows it." She shrugs, uncrossing her arms. "He's unaware of his own face."
You don't respond. You're already looking back at the window, though he's long gone. "His nose," you say, the words stumbling right out of your head. "That's the thing. I can't—" You stop yourself, shake your head. "It's nothing."
Hanni could only nod, she understands and hands you a stack of folded towels. "Focus on the towels," she says. "The nose can wait."
You take the towels and get back to work. The image of him across the street stays with you for the rest of the shift.
The sidewalk cracks under your feet as you walk, the sky a pale gray that threatens nothing in particular, hopefully not rain. You pull out your phone, scroll to Jungwon's contact, and press call. He picks up after some time, which means he's either not busy or he's avoiding something.
"What’s up?" he says. "You're calling at a normal time. That's kind of suspicious."
"I'm walking home from work and I thought I'd fill the silence."
"Fill away."
As you ramble on everything, you don’t allow yourself to bring up Jake yet.
"Yeah." You kick a pebble off the curb. "It's weird, though. Sometimes I forget I'm supposed to be starting over. It just feels like—I don't know. Like I've been here longer."
"You have been there longer. In a way." His voice drops, careful. "You lived there before. Remember?"
You stop walking. A car passes, its headlights cutting through the dusk. You do remember—fragments, not really. The knowledge that you'd been in this city before the accident and the three-year gap in your memory. You'd chosen to come back because something about it felt familiar, even if you couldn't know why.
"Yeah," you say. "I keep forgetting that part."
Silence on his end. You start walking again. "There's this guy," you say carelessly, and you already regret it. "In my building. His name is Jake. We keep running into each other."
"What kind of running into?"
"Literally and figuratively. He nearly killed one of the old folk at my work. Long story." You suddenly pause. "He has this orange keychain. The same one I have. You know, the little fruit thing on my keys."
You can hear him breathing, he's seems like measuring his response. "That's weird," he says. "That's a weird coincidence."
"Yeah, I know." You wait for him to say more but he doesn't. "He also said he met you when you came to check out the apartment before I moved in. You talked in the hallway, isn’t it?"
"I did talk to someone. I don't remember his name, though."
"Jake," you repeat. "You don't remember him?"
"Lot of people in that building. I was there for like an hour." He laughs but it sounds flat. "Why are you asking?"
You don't know why you're asking. The question hangs there, unanswered, as you round the corner and your building comes into view. "Pure curiosity," you say. "He's nice. We went to the convenience store last night."
"The convenience store at night. Like a date?"
"Not a date, it was an apology. His dog knocked over an old man at my work."
Jungwon is quiet for a beat before talking again. "Don’t tell me that you like him."
"It's not like that."
"It's exactly like that. I can hear it in your voice."
You stop at the front door of your building, hand on the handle. It’s cool under your palm. "I don't even know him. We've talked, like, four times."
"And you're already calling him by name. That's more than you do with most people."
You leave the question unanswered. The door opens, and the smell of aged carpet and lingering cooking oil greets you before anything else. "I'll talk to you later," you say.
"Okay. But Y/N—"
"What?"
"Be careful, okay? Just—" He stops. "Just be careful with yourself. You're still figuring things out. I love you."
"I know. Love you too." You hang up and stand in the foyer, phone warm in your hand. The hallway stretches ahead, empty and quiet as usual. You climb the stairs slowly instead of taking the elevator, each step slow. What is happening? Something doesn't add up.
─────────
The banging comes from somewhere down the hall. Sharp and insistent, the sound of a fist against wood or maybe a shoulder against a frame. You freeze mid-step, your keys still in the lock, heart lurching into your throat. The apartment building is usually calm at this hour with the muffled sound of someone's guitar upstairs or television, but nothing like this.
You press your eye to the peephole but the angle is wrong, the fish-eye view showing only the empty stretch of hallway directly outside your door. The banging continues, punctuated by a voice. It’s raised, female, too muffled to make out words but carrying an obvious edge of distress.
The smart move would be staying inside, lock the door, call 911 and wait it out. The sound carries a note of despair that makes you pause. Your mind drifts to the building's elderly residents and the possibility that someone is in trouble. Before the thought has time to settle, you're unlocking the door and pulling it open.
You step into the hallway.
Jake is there, about twenty feet down, his back half-turned to you. A woman stands in front of him, her posture stiff, her hands gesturing in jagged movements. She's undeniably pretty ; dark hair pulled back, a denim jacket, boots that look expensive. Her face is flushed, and even from here you can see the tension in her jaw. "It's not fair," she's saying, her voice cracking. "You can't just—I've been trying for months, Jake. Months. And you just—"
"Luna." Jake's voice is low, placating, his hands raised in that universal gesture of de-escalation. "I've told you. It's not like that. I'm not—"
She scoffs, loud and bitter. "Not what? Not interested? You've made that fucking clear."
You're frozen in the doorway, unsure whether to retreat or announce your presence. The woman's head snaps toward you, her eyes widening for a split second before narrowing.
"Oh," she says, the word dripping with annoyance. Her eyes scan you for approximately 5 seconds. "Great. She’s back." She brushes past you without another word, her shoulder colliding with yours hard enough to make you stumble back a step. The elevator doors close behind her, and it's just you and Jake in the hallway now. He's still standing there, hands lowered now, his face a mingle of exhaustion and embarrassment. He runs a palm over his jaw, lets out a long breath.
She's back. What?
"That," he says, "was not how I wanted you to meet my coworker."
You blink at him. "Coworker?"
"Luna." He points loosely toward the elevator. "She works at the shelter with me. We've known each other since we were kids."
You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms. "She seemed upset."
"She's been upset for a while." He rubs the back of his neck. "She's had a thing for me. For years. And I keep telling her I don't feel that way, but she doesn't—" He exhales again. "She doesn't take it well."
You raise an eyebrow. "So she followed you home and banged on your door?"
"She showed up unannounced. I was trying to calm her down. She's not a bad person, she just—" He hesitates, searching for the right words. "She's stubborn, and she doesn't like hearing no."
You study him. His shoulders are still tense, his hands are shoved deep into his pockets. He looks genuinely rattled, not like someone who's been caught in a lie. "Childhood friends," you repeat. "she's been flirting with you, and you felt bad for her."
"First, I’m not flirting with her and I’m not planning on it. I felt bad because I know she's lonely. She's been through some stuff. But I can't—" He looks at you, his expression transforming invisibly. "I can't give her what she wants. It wouldn't be fair to her. Or to anyone else."
"I’ve never seen you so flustered," you declare softly. He huffs a laugh, short and breathy. "Yeah, well. You bring out the best in me."
You push off from the doorframe. "She seems like she'll be fine."
"She'll be fine. She always is." He pauses. "Thanks for not assuming the worst."
"I assumed the worst," you admit. " A girlfriend and an angry breakup."
"Not a girlfriend," he says. "Not even close."
You nod, and the moment stretches between you, comfortable but charged. "Goodnight then, Jake."
"Sleep tight, Y/N."
You close the door behind you and lean against it, listening to his footsteps retreat down the hall.
Not a girlfriend. Is he lying?
You don't know why that detail settles in your mind the way it does. You’d rather sleep it away.
─────────
You're coming back from a late shift, leaving your feet sore and your brain half-fogged, when you round the corner to your floor and find the hallway occupied. Four of them, clustered around Jake's door like they're waiting for someone to let them in. You recognize Jake immediately ; he's leaning against the wall, arms crossed, laughing at something one of the others said. The other three are strangers, but they have that easy familiarity with each other, displaying years of friendship.
Jake spots you first. His face shifts, the laugh settling into a smile that's more reserved but no less warm. "Y/N," he says. "You're back late."
"There was a lot of work to do." You slow your pace, your keys already in hand. "I wasn't expecting to see a lot of people today."
One of the strangers ; tall with sharp features and a casual slouch ; he steps forward, extending a hand. "Jay. I've heard about you."
"Good things, I hope."
"Debatable." The one next to him grins, softer, with eyes that crinkle at the corners. "I'm Heeseung. This is Sunghoon, and that's Jenna, his girlfriend."
Jenna waves from where she's tucked under Sunghoon's arm. She has a face that immediately puts you at ease, round and open and curious.
"We were about to have a drink," Jake announces. "You want to join?"
You hesitate. The exhaustion is tugging at your limbs, but the alternative is your empty apartment and the leftover convenience store chips you've been picking at for days. "Sure," you say. "Why not."
His apartment is the same as before, but with four extra bodies it feels smaller, more alive. Jay immediately claims the couch, sprawling like he owns it. Heeseung perches on the armrest. Sunghoon and Jenna take the floor, backs against the coffee table, and Jake gestures for you to take the single chair by the window.
"Drinks are in the kitchen," he says. "Help yourself."
You grab something from the fridge ; a cheap beer, nothing fancy ; and settle into the chair. The conversation flows around you, natural and unforced, as they talk about work and mutual friends and an inside joke about the shelter.
After two or three drinks, someone suggests a game. "Chug or dare," Jay announces, the glint in his eye makes you immediately suspicious. "You know the rules. Pick chug, you finish your drink. Pick dare, you do whatever we come up with. But you’re forbidden to back down."
"Really?" you say. "This is how you treat your guests?"
"Guests are the most fun," Heeseung says. "You're fresh meat."
Jake shoots them a warning look, veiled with exasperation. "You don't have to play. They're idiots."
"We’re not," Sunghoon protests. "Jake, it’s been years since we know each other. Don’t be surprised."
You look around the room. The faces watching you are expectant, amused, a little bit reckless. The knot in your chest loosens. "I’m in. I'm taking Jake down with me, though."
The first few rounds are tame. Heeseung chugs three times in a row and declares himself champion. Sunghoon dares Jay to do a handstand, which he fails spectacularly. Jenna picks dare and has to call her mom and tell her she loves her, which she does with zero hesitation and an extreme level of sincerity.
After that, the bottle lands on you. "Y/N," Jay says, rubbing his hands together. "Chug or dare?"
You weigh your options. Your drink is half-full. "Dare."
Jay leans forward, eyes glittering. "I dare you to tell us what you first thought when you saw Jake."
The room goes quiet. Jake's hand stops mid-reach for his bottle.
"That's not a dare," you say. "That's kind of embarrassing."
"It's the correct functionality of a dare." Heeseung is grinning now, too. "Answer the question."
You look at Jake. He's watching you with a curious expression.
"You want the honest answer?" you ask.
"Always."
"His nose." The words come out neutral. "I thought it was ridiculous how perfect it was. It’s like someone sculpted it. It's annoying, honestly."
A beat of silence. Then Jay doubles over, slapping his knee. Heeseung lets out a wheeze of a laugh. Sunghoon is covering his mouth, eyes wide. Jenna just shakes her head, grinning. Jake's face has gone slightly pink. He looks down at his bottle, then back at you, and his face softens. "That's not what I expected," he says.
"I had to be unpredictable."
The game continues. Jenna gets dared to chug and does it with ease. Sunghoon gets asked if he'd rather fight a bodybuilder or five horses, and he spends five minutes arguing the logistics. Heeseung picks chug three times in a row and is visibly struggling to stay upright, his ears turning bright pink.
It's Jake's turn. "Chug," he says immediately.
"Whoa, not too fast." Jay says. "You're not getting out of it that easy. I'm changing the rules. You have to pick dare."
"Since when can you change the rules?"
"Since I'm the one asking." Jay grins. "Dare : show us the most embarrassing thing on your phone."
Jake's eyes narrow. "I'm not doing that."
"Then you have to answer a question instead," Sunghoon offers. "From anyone in the room. You pick who."
Jake considers this. His gaze scans the room, passing over Jay and Heeseung, settling on you for a moment before moving to Jenna. "Jenna. Ask me anything."
Jenna tilts her head, thinking. "Why did you move back to this city?" The question lands differently than the others. The light atmosphere falters slightly. Jake's jaw tightens, and for a second you see an unguarded expression crossing his features.
"Personal reasons," he says. "I needed to be back here."
"That's vague," Heeseung notes.
"It's still an answer." Jake picks up his bottle. "I'm drinking now." He finishes his drink in one long swallow, and everyone lets it go.
The bottle spins again, lands on you. Jay's turn to ask. "Chug or dare?"
You're feeling the warmth of the alcohol now, loose and careless. "Dare."
"I dare you to kiss Jake."
The room goes dead quiet. You hear someone inhale sharply ; maybe Jenna or yourself. Jake's head snaps toward Jay, disbelief and uncertainty show on his features.
"Jay," he mumbles, his voice has an edge to it. "That's not—"
"Too late," Jay cuts him off. "She already picked. Rules are rules."
You look at Jake. He's sitting across from you, one arm draped over the back of the couch, his bottle dangling from his fingers. The light from the kitchen catches the lines of his face, the curve of his jaw, the bridge of his nose. That stupid, perfect nose. Lord, why would you make me cross paths with a guy that I obviously can’t have? He’s going to be fucking weirded out since I haven’t kiss a single soul in my entire life.
"I don't have to, right?" you say. "I can chug instead."
"You're not chugging." Jay's tone is firm. "That's not how the game works."
The silence lingers. Jake holds your gaze, his expression betraying him ; hesitation, or resolve masquerading as it. Whatever it is, it stays unspoken.
"Jake," you say, and your voice comes out steady. "What do you think?"
He studies you in silence for what feels like an eternity. Then he sets his bottle down with delicate care, rises, and slowly closes the distance between you. "Okay," he says lowly. "If you're okay with it."
You're not sure if you're okay with it. I mean, he’s hot for sure. You're lost right now, while his hand finds the back of your chair, he leans down, his breath is warm and smells faintly of beer. His lips brush your cheek. Soft, quick, almost unsure. It's not a kiss, not really ; it's the ghost of one, lingering just long enough to leave a hot mark. He straightens up and steps back. The room erupts into wolf-whistles and laughter.
"Cheater," Jay yells. "That's not a kiss."
"Mind you, those are my favorite kind." Jake says, and he's looking at you, not at Jay. You touch your cheek, where the warmth of his lips still lingers. Your face is burning, you're not sure if it's embarrassment or something else. "You're a coward," you say, your tone weak.
He smiles, slow and crooked. "You’re going to thank me later."
The game dissolves after that, the energy beginning to loosen, more rambling. Jenna falls asleep against Sunghoon's shoulder. Heeseung starts recounting a story about one of his high school exes. Jake moves to the floor, leaning against the couch, and you find yourself beside him, your shoulders almost touching. Your head starts to pound.
The game continues. The bottle spins, lands on Jay, then Heeseung, then Jenna. People chug or dare with increasing abandon, the alcohol loosening tongues and lowering inhibitions. Sunghoon admits he once cried while arguing with Jenna. You're on your fourth bottle, maybe your fifth. The edges of the room have gone soft and blurry, and you're laughing at something Heeseung said that you're not entirely sure was a joke. Your face feels warm, your limbs loose, and when you lean back against the couch, your shoulder brushes Jake's once again.
The bottle spins again to land on you. Jay's turn, because it's always Jay. "Y/N. Chug or dare?"
"Dare." You're feeling bold, the alcohol humming in your veins. Jay's grin is wicked. "I dare you to spend ten minutes locked in Jake's bedroom. Just the two of you, with no phones."
The room erupts. Sunghoon lets out a low whistle and Heeseung chuckles while nearly passing out on the couch.
Jake shifts beside you. "Okay, let’s stop here—"
"You cheated earlier," Jay cuts him off. "You’ll have to make up for that."
You glance at Jake. His expression gives nothing away, even though the tightness in his jaw wasn't there a moment ago. He watches you closely, waiting for your reaction.
"Ten minutes?" you say. "That's it?"
"That's it."
You stand, and the room tilts slightly. You steady yourself against the arm of the couch. "Fine."
Jake stands too, as hesitant as before. He leads you down the short hallway to his bedroom, and you hear the hoots and catcalls from the living room as the door clicks shut behind you.
The room is small and neat. A bed with rumpled sheets, a dresser with a lamp, a window overlooking the street. And on the nightstand, next to a half-empty glass of water, a photo frame turned face-down.
Jake leans against the door, arms crossed. "You don't have to do this. We can just sit here and wait it out."
"Where's the fun in that?" You're already wandering around, peering at books on the shelf, a guitar propped in the corner. Your eyes keep drifting back to the photo frame. You walk toward it, curiosity tugging at you. "What's this?"
Jake's body goes still. Before you can reach for it, he's there, his hand catching your wrist, turning you toward him. "No, please don’t," he says, and his voice is urgent.
"Why? Is it embarrassing?"
"Something like that."
You're close now, close enough to see the flecks of gold in his eyes, his pupils are dilated, there’s a slight sheen on his lower lip. The alcohol has made you bold and afraid of nothing.
"I want to see," you say.
He leans in for his lips find yours. The kiss is warm, lingering, carrying a soft urgency that feels almost like a plea. Even though you thought you had no experience in kissing, doing it with him nearly felt natural, as much as muscle memory. The world seems to melt around you. Your thoughts dissolve, and the photo frame slips from your mind as completely as if it had never been there. You stumble backward, your calves hitting the edge of the bed, and you fall onto the mattress, pulling him with you. He catches himself on his hands, hovering over you, but your legs are tangled and the momentum shifts and suddenly you're in his lap, straddling him, your knees on either side of his hips.
His hands find your waist, then slide down, settling on your butt. He squeezes, and you gasp against his mouth. He kisses you again, deeper and slower, his tongue brushing your lower lip. You arch into him, your fingers threading through his hair, and he groans, low and rough.
The kiss breaks for a moment, both of you breathing hard. He's looking up at you, his eyes pleading, his lips parted. "Y/N," he murmurs, your name sounds different in his mouth, sounding like it means something more.
You finally get the hang of it and you kiss him again. His hands tighten on your ass, pulling you closer, and you feel the heat of him through both your clothes. The world outside this room fades into static.
Ten minutes pass. Even longer than that.
You feel him shift beneath you, his hips rolling upward in a slow motion, sending a jolt through your entire body. His hands are still firm on your backside, guiding you, and you follow the movement without thinking, your own hips tilting to meet his.
The kiss breaks just long enough for you to gasp, and he takes the opportunity to press his mouth to your jaw, your neck, and the sensitive spot just below your ear. Your fingers tighten in his hair, and you feel the low vibration of a sound that might be his voice or yours, you can't really tell anymore.
He grinds up into you again, and you feel the full heat of him through the denim, the friction of it making your head spin. Your breath is coming in short, uneven bursts, and his is the same ; harsh and ragged against your skin. His hands slide up from your backside to your waist, then back down, pulling you closer, harder, like he's trying to fuse you to him. You're not sure who moves first, but suddenly you're both lying back on the bed, him beneath you, your legs still straddling his hips, the kiss deepening into something messier. His fingers find the hem of your shirt and slip beneath, grazing the bare skin of your lower back, and you shiver.
Someone bangs at the door. Insistent knocks on the bedroom door. Heeseung's voice, muffled but audible. "Time's up! Ten minutes are over! You're not dead, are you?"
You both stop in your tracks. Your foreheads almost touching, your breath mingling in the small space between. He laughs from half-exasperation and half-relief. He drops his head back against the pillow, and you feel the tension in his shoulders subtly ease.
"Ignore him," he says while he's already loosening his grip on your waist, giving you space to pull back. You sit up, your thighs still bracketing his hips, and run a hand through your tangled hair. Your face is burning. Your lips feel swollen. You're acutely aware of every point of contact between you.
"We should—" you start, yet you don't know how to finish the sentence.
"Yeah." He's watching you from beneath half-lidded eyes, a slow smile spreading across his face.
Heeseung bangs again. "I'm not leaving until you open the door! Jay's timing you!"
Jake groans without real frustration in it. He sits up slowly, his hands finding your waist and steadying you as you climb off his lap. You stand, smoothing down your shirt, and he gets to his feet, adjusting his jeans with casualness.
He opens the door.
Heeseung stands there, arms crossed, a triumphant grin on his face. "Took you long enough. What were you doing in there?"
Jake steps past him into the hallway. "Mind your own business."
You follow, keeping your eyes fixed on the floor, you catch Jenna's teasing glance and Jay's eyebrows have shot up past his hairline. You already have to resist the urge to hide behind Jake's shoulder.
"Drink," Heeseung says, shoving a fresh bottle into your hand. "You've earned it."
You take it carelessly. You stand there, feeling the phantom weight of Jake's hands on your waist, the lingering heat of his mouth on your neck. How the fuck am I going to face him after that?
Or any day after.
─────────
A week passes.
Seven days of routine, of work and sleep and the occasional text from Hanni about something absurd a resident did. You walk the same hallways, take the same elevator, pass the same doors. But you don't see Jake ; not in the corridor, not at the coffee shop and not on the street. It's like he's vanished into the walls of the building, existing only in the memory of that night ; the heat of his hands, the press of his mouth, and how your name rolled over his tongue in such a delicate way.
You tell yourself it doesn't matter, that it was just a game, just alcohol, just ten minutes in a locked room that somehow stretched into something you can't stop replaying. You tell yourself you're not looking for him when you walk past his door nor listening for his footsteps on the stairs.
You can’t even lie to yourself.
Jungwon arrives on Friday afternoon, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a grin that takes up half his face. He hugs you in the doorway, squeezing too tight, and you let him because you've missed him more than you realized.
"Damn. It’s smaller then I remember," he announces, dropping his bag on the floor. "Like, really small. How do you live here?"
"I manage."
"Barely, by the looks of it." He peers at the stack of boxes still in the corner, the ones you haven't touched since you moved in. "You haven't unpacked everything."
"I'm getting to it."
"Yeah, right."
The weekend unfolds. You take him to the park, to the coffee shop, to the elderly home to meet Hanni and Jacob and Mrs. Han. He charms everyone, that's what he does the best, and by the end of the first day he's already promised to visit again.
Sunday afternoon, you're walking back from the park, the sun warm on your shoulders. Jungwon is telling you about a girl in his sociology class, someone he's been dancing around for weeks, he met her that one mixer party, and you're listening with half your attention, the other half occupied by the streets and the weight of your keys in your pocket. You round the corner into your building's corridor.
No way.
Jake.
He's standing by his door, keys in hand, like he's just coming back from somewhere. He looks up as you approach, and for a moment, A subtle change passed over his face. His eyes lit with recognition, followed by a fleeting trace of relief that was quickly replaced by his usual impassive stance.
"Y/N," he says. "Hey."
"Hi."
Jungwon's gaze flickers between you, sharp and assessing. "You're Jake," he says, there's a weight to the words that makes you look at him. Jake's posture shifts, almost imperceptibly. "Yeah. And you're Jungwon."
"You remember me."
"I remember a lot of things." Jake's voice is calm, yet there's a tension in his jaw that wasn't there before. You look between them, suddenly aware that you're missing something. "You two already know each other. From before I moved in, right?"
"Briefly," Jungwon says, and the word is clipped. He turns to you, his expression softening. "Y/N, can you go inside? I want to talk to Jake for a minute."
"What? Why?"
"I—" He hesitates. "I'll explain later. Please."
You look at Jake. He's watching Jungwon with an expression you can't read, and when he meets your gaze, there's something almost apologetic in it.
"Please," Jungwon repeats.
You hesitate, the key in your hand feeling heavier than usual. Jungwon has never asked you for much, and the look on his face is earnest in a way you rarely see. "Fine," you say, and you don't miss the way both of them exhale just slightly. "You better tell me later."
You slip into your room and quietly shut the door behind you. Remaining still, you lean close until your ear rests against the wood, listening for the hushed conversation outside. Only faint murmurs reach you, too muffled to make out.
You stand in the middle of your apartment, staring at the closed door, your hand still resting on the handle. The silence stretches, thick and heavy, broken only by the distant sound of traffic from the street. You count the seconds, then the minutes, your mind spinning through possibilities you can't figure out.
When the door finally opens, Jungwon steps inside and closes it behind him with a soft click. He doesn't meet your eyes immediately, and his shoulders are set in an unusual way ; the tension he carries when something is bothering him but he doesn't want to talk about it.
"Everything okay?" you ask.
He runs a hand through his hair, exhales slowly. "Yeah, it’s fine. It was—" He stops, shakes his head. "He's a little weird. That's all."
"Weird how?"
"I don't know." He shrugs too quickly. "It’s just the way he talks. He sounds like he knows more than he's saying. It's probably nothing."
You study him. His jaw is tight, and there's a crease between his brows that he's trying to smooth away. You've known him your whole life, or at least the parts you remember, and you can tell when he's holding something back. "Jungwon." You keep your voice level. "What did you talk about?"
He moves past you toward the kitchen, opens the fridge, and stares inside with focus. "I just wanted to get a read on him and make sure he's not some weirdo who's going to cause problems for you."
"And?"
"And he's not." He pulls out a bottle of water, twists off the cap to take a long drink. "He seems fine. Genuine, even. I just—" He pauses and sets the bottle down. "I don't know. There's something about him that feels familiar, and I can't figure out what it is."
Your stomach tightens. "Familiar how?"
"I don't know." He says it again, more frustrated this time. "It's probably nothing. I'm probably just being overprotective."
The unease that's lingered since the moment you saw the keychain resurfaces with renewed force. Jake's searching gaze keeps replaying in your mind, refusing to be ignored. Questions crowd your thoughts, but one look at Jungwon's guarded expression tells you this isn't the time to press him. You know he'd only withdraw further.
"Okay," you say. "If you say it's nothing."
"It's nothing." He meets your eyes, something in his gaze that's almost pleading. "Drop it, okay? For now."
You nod, even though every instinct is telling you not to. He relaxes for a bit, and the moment passes. Something is happening. Something you don't understand. And you're starting to think that the answers might not be as simple as you hoped.
─────────
As the door shuts behind Jungwon, the apartment returns to its usual calm. You stand quietly, replaying the fragments of a conversation you were never meant to hear. Whatever Jake said has stayed with him, but his expression is firmly closed off.
You wander into the living room, grab your phone and scroll through notifications. A news alert catches your eye ; an article about the sequel to that movie you've been waiting for, the one you've watched half a dozen times since you moved. Your stomach drops as you read the date. The premiere was last week. You missed it.
You're already moving toward the door before you fully decide to go. Your shorts are fine. The hoodie is fine. It's just a movie, and the theater is only a few blocks away. You don't bother changing or checking your reflection. You grab your keys and step into the hallway.
Jake is at the elevator, walking out as you're heading down. He stops when he sees you, his gaze traveling over your outfit, the urgency in your stride.
"Whoa," he says. "Where's the fire?"
"Movie." You're already past him, one hand on the buttons. "The sequel to that film I've been waiting for. I missed the premiere. I'm trying to catch a showing."
He watches you for a beat, then his hand lands lightly on your arm, stopping you. "Wait. Which movie?"
You tell him the title. His eyebrows lift.
"I like that one too," he says. "I actually have it. The original, I mean. On my laptop. I downloaded the sequel the day it came out."
You blink at him. "You downloaded it?"
"Yeah. I was going to watch it tonight, actually." He drops his hand and shoves it into his pocket. "If you want, you could watch it with me, at my place. Instead of running to the theater in shorts."
The simplicity of his offer makes it harder to dismiss. You think about the movie theater and everything that comes with it, but those thoughts are quickly overshadowed by the past week without him, the lingering uncertainty between you, and the rush of your heartbeat. "That's not weird?" you ask. "Watching a movie with your neighbor you haven't talked to in a week?"
He shrugs, a small smile playing at his mouth. "It's a good movie. And I promise I won't talk during the quiet parts."
You consider it. The hallway is dark, the evening light filtering through the window at the end. He's standing there, patient, and waiting for your answer.
"Okay," you say. "I don’t want to share my snacks, though."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
You follow him to his door, your footsteps echoing in the hallway. His apartment is just as you remember it ; the guitar, the books, the soft warm lights. He gestures toward the couch while he grabs his laptop from the coffee table and plugs it to the TV. You settle into the cushions, pulling your knees up, the hoodie swallowing you. The screen lights up, the opening credits rolling. He sits at the other end of the couch, a respectful distance between you, and hits play.
The movie plays on, but neither of you is really watching anymore. The scenes blur into background noise, punctuated by your shared laughter at a line you both find cliché, a character you both hate, a moment that still makes you cringe after all these years. Between scenes, you talk ; about the original movie, about other films, about nothing at all ; and the space between you shrinks with each exchange.
You barely register the moment his arm comes to rest along the back of the couch. The small brush of his fingertips against your shoulder goes unnoticed too. It's only when his hand settles there, warm and reassuring, his thumb lazily drawing slow circles over your hoodie, that you become aware of just how close he is. The blanket is draped over both of you, a thin barrier against the cool air of the apartment. His other hand slips beneath it, finding your thigh, resting there with a casualness that feels anything but like it. You lean into him, your head drifting toward his shoulder, the conversation fading into comfortable silence.
The movie continues, although you can feel your eyes becoming heavy. The warmth of his hand on your thigh, the rhythm of his breathing, the low murmur of dialogue from the TV ; it all blends into a haze of contentment. Your eyelids droop, flutter, close.
"Y/N." His voice is soft, barely above a whisper. "You're falling asleep."
"Mmm." You don't open your eyes. "I know."
"Do you want to go back?"
The room stays quiet as his words linger. Beyond the door waits a dark hallway, an empty apartment, and a bed that has already gone cold. The image settles over you like a burden, leaving you with little desire to leave.
"I don't want to move," you murmur, the words slurred with sleep.
He's quiet for a moment before he decides to speak. "You could stay here if you want. I have an extra blanket, or—" He pauses. "The bed's big enough."
You lift your head, blinking at him. His face is so close, his eyes soft in the low light of the screen. There's no expectation in his expression, no pressure. It’s an offer.
"Okay," you say.
He stands, extends a hand, and pulls you gently to your feet. You both walk shortly to his bedroom. He pulls back the covers, and you slip in, the mattress dipping under your weight. He climbs in behind you, his arm finding your waist, pulling you close. His chest presses against your back, his legs tangling with yours, and you feel his breath warm against the curve of your neck.
"You smell so good," he murmurs, the words a low vibration against your skin.
You laugh, low and drowsy. "I haven't showered."
"Don't care." His nose brushes your hairline. "You always smell good."
His arm tightens around you, his hand splayed across your stomach. His lips press an absent kiss to your shoulder, then another, barely there. "Your skin is so soft too," he confies, you can hear the smile in his voice. "I wanted to tell you that before. When you got out of the shower at my place, that first time. But I didn't want to be weird."
"You're being weird now," you mumble, but you're smiling too.
"Keep acting like you don’t like it." He nuzzles into your neck. "I'm okay with it."
You feel his hand slide from your stomach to your hip, his thumb tracing slow circles against the bone. His breath evens out, his body relaxing behind you, and you feel yourself sinking into the warmth of him.
"Jake," you say, barely audible.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for letting me stay."
He squeezes you gently, his lips pressing against your hair. "Anytime, Y/N."
Curled against his chest, you slowly surrender to sleep. His arm remains securely around you, its warmth grounding you until the last of your thoughts dissolve.
─────────
The sunlight filters through the curtains, and you blink awake slowly, your mind still thick with sleep. The bed is warm, the sheets tangled around your legs, however, the space beside you is empty. You reach out, your hand finding only cool fabric.
You lie there for a moment, orienting yourself. Jake's room. Jake's bed. The events of the night before trickle back in fragments. You check your phone on the nightstand. Saturday, 9:47 AM. Two days off stretching ahead of you, unplanned and open. You pad out of the bedroom, still in the oversized hoodie you wore last night, your hair a mess and your eyes half-opened. The smell of coffee hits you brutally. Jake is standing at the kitchen counter, a mug in one hand, his phone in the other. He's in a plain white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, his hair still sleep-tousled, and he looks up when he hears your footsteps.
"Morning," he says, his voice so soft and reassuring. "I didn't want to wake you. You looked comfortable."
"You're still here," you say, your voice scratchy. "Don't you have work?"
He shakes his head. "Day off. I figured I'd take it easy."
You close the distance without giving yourself time to hesitate. Slipping your arms around his waist from behind, you rest your cheek between his shoulder blades. Warmth radiates through him, and you feel his entire body go still beneath your embrace. He stays still. His breath barely catches, and you feel the tension ripple through his shoulders. After that, his hand comes down to rest over yours, his thumb brushing across your knuckles.
"Y/N," he says, and his voice is rougher than before. "You're going to make me drop my coffee."
"Put it down, then."
He does as you say. You hear the mug clink against the counter, and then he's turning in your arms, his hands finding your waist, his face close to yours. A flush is creeping up his neck, pink and noticeable, the sight of it makes thousands of sparks flicker in your stomach.
"You're blushing." you observe.
"I’m not," he says, his ears are red now, and he's not meeting your eyes. "I just wasn't expecting a hug. First thing in the morning. From someone who—" He stops, clears his throat. "Never mind."
"From someone who what?"
He finally looks at you, vulnerability filling his gaze completely. "From someone I really didn't want to wake up alone."
Words fail you, so you simply stay where you are. He pulls you into him, holding you with gentleness before resting his forehead against the top of your head. As he breathes in deeply, the strain he'd been carrying begins to slip away.
"Your hair smells like my shampoo," he mumbles into your hair.
"Your shampoo smells good."
"It's just generic stuff from the convenience store."
"Still smells good."
He laughs, soft and warm, and his arms tighten around you. "That sounded stupid, doesn’t it?"
You smile and chuckle against his chest. "A little bit."
You only eat eggs, toasts and drink coffee, but it feels like more than that. You sit across from him at his small kitchen table, the soft light of the sun landing on his face, and the conversation flows easily between bites.
He tells you about the shelter and problems that he had when he took care of a dog for the first time, and you do the same.
"It's a good job," you say, stirring your coffee. "Exhausting, but good. They make me laugh sometimes."
"They sound like characters."
"They are." You pause, watching him over the rim of your mug. "Can I ask you something personal?"
He looks up, a hint of wariness in his eyes, but he nods. "Sure."
"Why did you move back here? You said that night at the game—personal reasons. But you didn't elaborate."
He's quiet for a moment, his fork hovering over his plate. "I had some things to figure out," he says slowly. "Things I couldn't figure out anywhere else."
"Like what?"
He meets your gaze, something you can’t quite read passes across his face. "Like whether some things are worth coming back for."
The answer is vague and careful, yet there's a weight to it that makes you not want to know more about it. So you don't.
"Your turn," you say instead. "You can ask me anything."
He sets down his fork, considering. "What made you choose this city? Out of all the places you could have gone."
You look down at your coffee. The steam rises in slow spirals. "I used to live here. Before the accident." You say it matter-of-factly, you've learned to say it over the past year. "I don't remember it, but something about it felt right. Like I was supposed to come back."
"The accident," he repeats, and his voice is measured now. "You've mentioned it before. The memory loss."
"Yeah." You wrap your hands around the mug, let the warmth seep into your palms. "Three years. Just gone. I woke up in the hospital and suddenly I was 22, and I didn't remember being 21, 20 and even 19. My brother had to tell me who I was friends with, where I'd worked, what I'd done." You pause. "It's strange. Knowing there's a version of yourself out there that you'll never meet."
Jake is watching you intently, his breakfast forgotten. "That must have been hard," he says quietly.
"It was. Still is, sometimes. There are things I know I'm supposed to remember—people, places, moments—and I just can't access them. It’s like a locked door I don't have the key to."
He's silent for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice is softer than before. "Do you ever feel like you're close to remembering? Or that something triggers it?"
You consider the question. "Sometimes it’s little things. A smell, a song, or an object." You think of the keychain, the one that matches his. "But it never sticks. It's just—there and it’s gone."
He nods slowly.
"Sorry," you say. "That got heavy."
"Don't apologize." He reaches across the table, his hand covering yours. "Thank you for telling me."
You look at his hand on yours, warm and soft. "Your turn," you say, trying to lighten the mood. "Ask me something else."
He thinks for a moment. "What's your favorite thing about this city? Now that you're back."
You smile, the tension easing. "The coffee shop on the corner. They have terrible pastries but really good lattes."
He laughs, and the sound fills the kitchen. "I'll have to try it sometime."
"Maybe I'll take you." The words come out before you can stop them, and you feel a flush creep up your neck.
He squeezes your hand. "I'd like that."
The morning stretches into a lazy afternoon. You've migrated to the couch, your phone in one hand, scrolling through nothing in particular. Jake is stretched out beside you, his head resting on your thigh like it belongs there, his own phone held above his face. The weight of him is warm and familiar now, and you've stopped overthinking how his hair brushes against your bare knee.
He's quiet, focused on whatever he's reading, his thumb occasionally swiping. You're half-watching a video on your own screen, the sound muted, when you feel his body shift. A pause. His thumb stops moving.
Then his free hand moves, quick and unexpected, his fingers finding the spot just above your knee. He digs in lightly, and you jolt, your phone nearly slipping from your grip.
"Jake!" Your voice comes out loud, a mix of surprise and laughter. "What are you doing?"
He grins, an unapologetic grin, and his fingers keep moving, dancing along the sensitive skin of your thigh. You try to twist away, but his head is still heavy on your lap, pinning you in place, and he's using his other hand to trap your leg.
"Stop—" You're laughing, breathless, trying to grab his wrist. "I'm serious—"
"Are you?" His voice is teasing and low. His fingers find your ribs, and you arch, a helpless sound escaping you.
"You're the fucking worst." You manage to grab his hand, but he's stronger, and he uses the momentum to roll slightly, shifting so he can reach your side. The tickling intensifies, and you're squirming, your free hand batting at his shoulder.
"Say I'm the best," he says, his voice muffled against your stomach.
"Never."
He doubles down, and you dissolve into helpless laughter, your phone clattering onto the floor. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes.
"Okay—okay—you're the best." The words come out in a wheeze. "You're the best, Jake. I surrender."
He stops, his hand stilling, still he doesn't move away. His face is close now, hovering over you, his eyes bright with amusement and softness beneath.
"That was easy," he says.
"Fuck you."
"You wouldn't," He settles back down, and you slap his arm for the comment. His head finding your lap again, his hand resting loosely on your knee. "Don't worry. I'll go easy on you next time."
You pick up your phone with your heart is still racing, and you can feel the warmth of his palm through the thin fabric of your shorts.
A random movie starts on the laptop screen, playing as background noise to fill the silence. You're sitting on the floor between Jake's legs, your back against the couch, your head tilted back slightly as his fingers work through your hair. He's been at it for a while now, separating strands, twisting them together, muttering under his breath when they slip apart.
"Like this?" he asks, his voice close to your ear.
"Tighter," you say. "You're not pulling enough."
"I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't. Just—here." You reach up, your hand finding his, guiding his fingers to the right section. "Hold that one. Now cross it over the middle. Yes, like that."
He follows your instructions with concentration and that makes you smile. His fingers are careful, delicate, and you feel the gentle tug as he works through a tangle.
"You've done this before, no?" you say.
"Never. I'm just naturally talented."
You snort. "We'll see about that."
Another minute passes. He's quiet, too focused, and you can feel the slight movement of his hands as he continues his work. You're both lost in the small intimacy of the moment.
"Okay," he says finally. "I think I got it."
You reach up, your fingers brushing against the braid he's made. It's lopsided, uneven, with strands sticking out at odd angles. You tug at it gently, and a section comes loose.
"It's bad," you say, and you can hear the laughter in your own voice.
He lets out a mock-offended sound. "I spent ten minutes on that."
"Ten minutes and this is what I get?"
"I'm a beginner. Tell me I’m doing good. Please."
You turn your head to look up at him. He's pouting weakly, his bottom lip pushed out, his eyes looking down with exaggerated hurt.
"Okay," you relent. "You did great."
His expression shifts instantly, the pout melting into a pleased smile. "Really?"
"For a first try. It's not completely terrible."
"High praise." His hand finds your shoulder, squeezing gently. "I'll take it."
You settle back against the couch, your head still tilted to look at him. He's looking down at you, his gaze soft, unguarded, letting you see something he usually keeps hidden.
"These past few days," he says, his voice quieter now. "They've been—I don't know. I've been comfortable. More than I have in a while."
"You're not going to get all sentimental on me, are you?"
He laughs, low and warm. "Maybe a little. Is that okay?"
You wait and watch him, the light catches his eyes, the slight curve of his mouth. The air between you feels heavier now. He leans forward, his face hovering above yours, and you feel a pull ; something that tugs at the edges of your memory. The feeling is fleeting, gone before you can grasp it, yet it leaves a warmth in its wake.
"Y/N," he says, your name sounds different on his lips.
Suddenly, his mouth is on yours, gentle and upside down, his lips soft against your own. You lean into him, your hand reaching up to cup his jaw, and the kiss deepens. His fingers thread through your hair, careful not to pull the messy braid loose, and you tilt your head further to meet him. The angle is awkward, the position of him behind you and you below making it clumsy, but you don't want to stop.
When he finally pulls back, his face above yours by an inch, his breath is uneven.
"You’re so pretty that it hurts," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I could handle a little pain, though."
"You don't look bad yourself." You chuckle softly, close your eyes and let yourself feel it ; the warmth of him, the pace of his heart against your back, the small certainty that this is exactly where you're supposed to be.
Now, the movie has ended, the credits scrolling silently across the screen. Silence remains in the living room. You've shifted positions, no longer on the floor but curled together on the couch, your back against his chest, his arms wrapped around you. His legs bracket yours, and your head rests in the crook of his neck, the warmth of him seeping through your t-shirt.
His lips find your temple first, light and sweet, a barely-there press of skin against skin. Then your cheek. Then the corner of your eye. Each kiss is soft, as he's memorizing the geography of your face. You feel the slight stubble on his jaw brush against you.
"Are you still going to kiss every inch of my face?" you murmur, your eyes closed.
"Every single one." He punctuates the words with another kiss, this one on the bridge of your nose. "I have a list. It's very thorough."
You laugh, tired and content, and his arms tighten around you. His lips trail down to your jaw, then your chin, then the spot just below your ear.
"Getting distracted?" you ask.
"Completely." Another kiss, this one on your neck. "This is your fault for being here."
"I didn't do anything."
"You’re existing right now, so deal with the consequences."
You tilt your head back, giving him more access, and he takes the invitation, his mouth trailing along the curve of your throat. His kisses are still gentle, almost reverent, but they linger a little longer now.
His fingers find your hand, lace through yours, squeeze once. You feel the weight of his lips on your shoulder, your collarbone, the soft skin just above the neckline of your hoodie. Then back up, retracing the path, pausing at your cheek again.
"You're very thorough," you manage, your voice dreamy.
"I told you. I'm a man of my word."
He presses one last kiss to the corner of your mouth, soft and sweet, and then settles his chin on the top of your head, his arms still wrapped around you like he's afraid you'll disappear.
You don’t want to move. The afternoon light has shifted, growing gold, and the room feels suspended in a bubble of warmth and intimacy.
"Jake," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For today. For all of it."
He presses his lips to your hair, a silent reply, and you feel his smile against the strands. The last kiss lingers, right against your hair, and then you tilt your head up, catching his mouth with yours. It's not the upside-down kiss from before, this one is direct and utterly intentional, your lips finding his with unexpected certainty. He responds immediately, his hand cupping your jaw, angling you toward him.
You feel his other hand slide from your shoulder down your side, settling on your hip. You shift, twisting in his arms, and before you know it, you're turning to face him properly. Your knees find the cushion on either side of his thighs, and you settle into his lap, straddling him, your chest pressed against his.
His hands find your waist immediately, gripping you through the fabric of your t-shirt, his fingers splaying across the curve of your hips. He pulls you closer, and you feel the strong warmth of him beneath you, his breath hitches slightly as you settle your weight against him.
"You're going to make it hard to stop." he murmurs against your lips while he's smiling.
"That’s too bad." you whisper back, you could feel the vibration of his laugh.
─────────
It’s been an hour. You’re still straddling Jake, your knees sinking into the cushions on either side of his hips as your mouths move together in a heated, urgent kiss. His lips are warm and demanding, although there’s a delicious clumsiness to the way he kisses you ; teeth grazing a little too eagerly, his tongue sliding against yours with more hunger than precision. He’s so turned on he can barely focus, and it shows in every shaky breath and muffled sound.
His large hands slide down your back and grip your ass firmly now, fingers digging into the soft flesh with possessive strength. He squeezes and fondles you without restraint, kneading your cheeks as he pulls you harder against the growing bulge in his sweatpants. A low throaty moan echoes from his chest into your mouth, raw and needy, sending a rush of heat straight through you.
He breaks the kiss for half a second to gasp for air, forehead lightly pressed to yours, before diving back in even sloppier than before ; lips wet, tongue eager, hands still greedily massaging and spreading your ass as he rocks you against him. His grip is tight enough to leave marks, but the way he groans your name between kisses makes it impossible to care.
You pull back to catch your breath, your hands resting on his chest as you look down at him with flushed cheeks. His eyes are veiled with want, lips slightly swollen from the messy kiss, and his hands are still firmly anchored to your ass, unwilling to let go.
“Sorry,” you whisper, voice a little shaky. “If I’m bad at this…it’s my first time doing any of it, really.”
Jake blinks up at you, his breath still ragged. For a moment his grip on your ass loosens slightly, but then he squeezes again, almost reassuringly. A soft surprised chuckle escapes him before he leans in and presses a gentler kiss to the corner of your mouth.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice husky and sincere. “I’ve never gotten past a kiss either. So…we’re both figuring this out.”
He pulls you closer again, one hand sliding up your back while the other stays possessively on your ass, and kisses you slower now ; still clumsy with need, still moaning softly into your mouth, but now with a shared nervousness that somehow makes everything feel even hotter.
You smile softly against his lips at his confession, a warm flutter of relief mixing with the heat in your belly. Boldness comes through you, you slide one hand down his chest, slowly tracing the ridges of his abs through the thin fabric of his shirt. Your fingertips press lightly, exploring the firm muscle beneath, and Jake’s entire body jolts under you.
He gasps sharply into your mouth, hips twitching upward as a shiver runs through him. He’s incredibly sensitive there ; every slow drag of your fingers makes his muscles tense and twitch. Another involuntary moan slips out of him, breathier than before.
“S-sorry,” he blurts out by reflex, cheeks burning as he pulls back just an inch, eyes half-lidded and embarrassed. His hands tighten on your ass again, almost like he’s grounding himself. “I’m just…really sensitive. Fuck, that feels good.”
He leans in quickly to kiss you again, clumsier now from the rush of sensation, his abs contracting under your exploring touch as he rocks you gently against him, clearly fighting the urge to apologize a second time.
You keep tracing his abs, feeling them flex and twitch under your fingertips, when his breathing grows even heavier. His hands squeeze your ass one last time before sliding up to your hips. He leans in close, lips brushing your ear as he whispers softly, voice rough with arousal.
“Take your panties off for me…please?”
The words send a fresh wave of heat through you. You hesitate, suddenly shy, cheeks burning as you bite your lip and glance away. Jake notices immediately. A small affectionate smirk tugs at his lips despite how flustered he is.
“What’s wrong?” he teases gently, voice playful, his fingers tracing slow circles on your hips. “Don’t get all shy on me now…I’m dying here.”
You swallow hard, heart racing, but the way he’s looking at you ; equal parts desperate and sweet ; makes you brave. Instead of taking them off completely, you reach the hem of your shorts and throw them next to the couch, hook your fingers into the side of your panties, and push the damp fabric aside, exposing yourself to him.
“You can touch me,” you whisper, voice barely audible.
Jake’s eyes widen slightly. He nods slowly, one hand sliding from your hip down between your bodies. His middle finger gently traces along your slick folds, testing, before he slowly pushes it inside you ; careful, inch by inch, watching your face the whole time to make sure it’s okay. His breath catches at how warm and wet you feel around his finger, and he lets out a shaky moan, forehead dropping to your shoulder.
“Fuck…is this alright?” he murmurs, voice trembling with restraint as he holds still, letting you adjust.
You let out a shaky breath, hips shifting slightly against his hand as his finger moves inside you.
“That feels good,” you whisper, voice breathy and honest. “Really good…”
Jake’s eyes light up with relief and hunger. Encouraged, he slowly pulls his middle finger back, then carefully pushes two fingers in this time ; his middle and ring finger ; stretching you more. He’s clumsy about it, his movements a little uncoordinated from how turned on he is, but the gentle pressure feels incredible as he works them deeper.
He starts to pump them slowly, trying to find a rhythm, when suddenly his breath hitches.
“Wait—” he says quickly, almost like he remembered something.
Before you can respond, he curls his fingers upward, searching. The moment he hits that sensitive spot inside you, a loud, involuntary moan escapes your lips, loud and needy. Your thighs tremble around him as pleasure jolts through your body.
His face flushes deeper, a proud but clumsy grin breaking across his face even as he keeps awkwardly pumping and curling his fingers, trying to do it again. His free hand grips your ass tightly for balance, his own breathing ragged and uneven while he watches you react, completely lost in how you sound and feel.
You’re still trembling from the sudden rush of pleasure when he slows his fingers, keeping them buried inside you. He looks up at you with those wide, needy eyes, his cheeks flushed and his breathing ragged.
“Tell me I’m doing good…” he whispers, voice deep and a little vulnerable as he searches your face. “Please?”
You cup his face gently in both hands, thumbs brushing over his warm cheeks. Leaning down, you kiss him softly, tenderly, your lips lingering against his for a long moment. When you pull back just enough to speak, you gaze softens.
“You’re being so good to me,” you murmur. “It feels really good, Jake…keep going.”
A relieved moan slips from him at your words. His eyes flutter half-closed, and he presses into your touch like he’s starving for the praise. His fingers start moving again ; still a little clumsy and eager ; pumping slowly in and out while curling every few strokes to hit that spot that make you squirm. His free hand squeezes your ass tighter, pulling you closer as he kisses you back, messy and grateful.
You keep kissing him, slow and sweet, when Jake suddenly pulls his fingers out of you with a wet sound that makes you both blush. He shifts underneath you, breathing hard, and hurriedly works open his jeans.
“I need to feel you more,” he mutters, voice thick with desperation.
He lifts his hips and shoves his pants and boxers down just enough to free himself. His cock springs out, hard and throbbing, already leaking at the tip. You barely get a look at it before he pulls you back down onto his lap, lining you up so your bare, soaked pussy presses directly against his length. You start moving again, grinding with your panties still pushed to the side. The hot, velvety shaft of his cock slides perfectly between your slick folds, the head bumping against your clit with every roll of your hips. Jake groans loudly, head falling back against the couch as his hands return to grip your ass, guiding you faster.
“Fuck…you feel so good,” he moans, clumsy and desperate. He’s getting impossibly harder beneath you, his dick twitching and throbbing with every grind. His hips jerk up to meet yours, uncoordinated and eager, making wet sounds every time your slick heat drags along his entire length.
He looks completely wrecked already ; lips parted, eyes hazy with desire, fingers digging into your ass as he rocks you harder against him, chasing more of that delicious friction. You keep grinding against him, the slick sounds growing louder as both of you get messier. Your panties are completely soaked, the fabric clinging wetly to your folds, and his boxers ; now bunched around his thighs ; are dark with your arousal too.
Jake lets out a frustrated groan and lifts you just enough to shove his boxers the rest of the way down his legs, kicking them off. He reaches into his pocket, tears open a condom with shaky hands, and rolls it on quickly, his cock twitching hard as he does. You move to slide your panties down, but he catches your wrists gently, stopping you.
“Wait—” he breathes, voice hoarse. His eyes drop to where your soaked panties are still pushed to the side, the pretty fabric framing your glistening pussy. “Don’t take them off. They’re too pretty on you like this…looks so fucking hot.”
He pulls you back down onto him, guiding the head of his cock to nudge against your entrance through the shifted fabric. His hands return to your ass, squeezing firmly as he looks up at you with doe, desperate eyes, clearly waiting for you to take the next step while his throbbing length presses impatiently against your heat.
You brace your hands on his shoulders and slowly sink down onto him, taking every inch of his cock inside your tight, soaked heat. The stretch is intense, making you gasp and pause halfway before you breathe through it and slide all the way down until your hips meet his. Jake’s head falls back with a deep, broken moan, his fingers digging hard into your ass.
But after a few seconds, the latex feels uncomfortable and distant. You lift yourself off him, quickly peel the condom away, and sink back down onto his bare cock before he can protest. The raw heat of him makes you both moan.
His eyes fly open in panic. “Wait—fuck—baby—” he stammers, hands gripping your waist tightly as his cock throbs hard inside you. His face is flushed with alarm even as pleasure clouds his expression.
You can’t help but laugh softly at his wide-eyed reaction, the sound breathy and fond. “It’s okay,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss him.
You start moving ; not bouncing, but grinding slowly in deep circles with him fully buried inside you. The pressure against that sensitive spot makes you whimper, but it completely wrecks Jake. He moans loudly, the sound raw and uncontrolled, his whole body tensing beneath you.
Suddenly, his hands clamp around your waist and he lifts you straight up, pulling out of you with a wet pop. You blink in confusion, hovering above him as his cock twitches angrily in the open air, slick with your juices.
“I was about to cum,” he pants, voice strained and embarrassed. “You’re too warm and tight…and I’m really sensitive right now. Fuck, I almost didn’t stop in time.”
He looks up at you, chest heaving, cheeks burning red as he tries to catch his breath, still holding you suspended above his lap.
You hover above him for a moment, still catching your breath, then bite your lip shyly and whisper, “It’s okay…if it happens and you cum inside me, I can take the morning after pill.”
Jake looks up at you, eyes glassy from the pleasure, his chest still rising and falling rapidly. He swallows hard, then nods, his hands gently squeezing your waist. “Okay…but I’ll still try to be careful,” he murmurs. “I don’t want to mess this up for you.”
You smile softly at his sweetness and slowly sink back down onto his bare cock, taking him all the way inside again with a soft gasp. Once he’s fully buried, you resume grinding on him in deep circles, your soaked pussy clenching around his thick length.
He groans loudly, his head tipping back for a second before he looks down to where your bodies are joined. His hands slide firmly onto your hips, fingers digging in as he starts guiding you harder against him. He pulls and pushes you in longer, more insistent grinds, forcing your clit to rub against the base of his cock with every roll.
Sloppy sounds fill the room as your soaked folds slide back and forth along his shaft. The harder he makes you grind, the louder the sounds get, your arousal coating him completely. Jake’s moans turn ragged and desirous, his abs flexing under your hands while he stares at the way your pretty panties, still pushed aside, frame your pussy taking every inch of him.
You keep grinding on him, the wet sounds growing filthier with every roll of your hips, when Jake suddenly sits up straighter. One of his hands slides up your back, pulling you closer as his mouth finds your neck.
He starts licking and kissing the sensitive skin there, sucking gently at first, then harder, while his hips snap upward. He shifts from letting you grind to actively pounding into you, thrusting deep and fast from below. Each rough stroke makes you whimper, your fingers clutching his shoulders as pleasure spikes through you.
“I’m sorry—” he whispers hotly against your neck, voice strained and weak between open-mouthed kisses. His thrusts grow erratic, sloppy, and frantic. “Fuck, I’m so sorry…I’m gonna cum inside you.”
His grip on your hips tightens almost painfully as he buries himself as deep as he can, moaning loudly into your neck while his cock throbs hard inside your tight heat. His body trembles beneath you, clearly fighting it for only a second longer before he loses control.
You cry out as the intense rhythm pushes you over the edge right along with him. Your orgasm crashes through you hard, walls clenching and fluttering wildly around his cock as waves of pleasure rip through your body. At the same moment, Jake groans deeply into your neck and starts cumming, pulsing hot and thick inside you with every thrust.
Still trembling and moaning from your climax, you gasp out quickly, “Finger me—please—”
You don’t need to tell him twice. He lifts you off his cock with a wet sound, lays you back on the couch, and slides two fingers deep into your dripping pussy. He keeps them buried inside you, pumping slowly and softly, curling them gently against that sensitive spot while his thumb rests lightly on your clit.
“Fuck—that’s it,” he whispers soothingly against your ear, voice gentle even as he’s still catching his breath. “You’re doing so good. Let it all out for me.”
His fingers move in slow strokes, drawing out every last pulse of your orgasm as he kisses your neck and jaw. “So pretty when you cum…keep squeezing around my fingers, baby. I’ve got you.”
He stays close, murmuring soft praises while his fingers continue their gentle rhythm inside your soaked heat, helping you ride through the aftershocks.
An hour later, you’re sprawled on the couch with your legs spread wide, one draped lazily over the armrest. Jake kneels between your thighs, his hands resting on your inner thighs to keep you open.
He starts with broad strokes of his tongue, licking up and down your slick pussy, tasting the mess you two made earlier. Then he dives in deeper, pressing his whole mouth against you and kissing your folds like he’s making out with them ; soft, wet, hungry kisses that make filthy sounds echo in the living room.
A deep moan escapes you as his tongue swirls around your clit.
Jake pulls back just enough to grin up at you, lips glistening. “Hey, you gotta be quiet,” he teases in a joking tone, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I can’t hear the TV show if you’re moaning like that. Rude.”
You try to focus on the screen, but the pleasure is making you sleepy and relaxed. Your eyelids start to flutter, growing heavier as you sink deeper into the couch.
Without warning, Jake tightens his grip on your thighs and thrusts his tongue straight into your pussy, fucking you with it in deep, firm strokes. Your eyes snap open with a sharp gasp, hips twitching against his face as the sudden intensity jolts you awake.
He pulls back for a second, smirking. “There you go. Can’t have you falling asleep on me already,” he murmurs playfully, before diving right back in, tongue thrusting into you again while his nose nudges your clit.
His hands hold you firmly in place as he eats you out with renewed energy, clearly determined to keep you wide awake and moaning.
You can’t hold back anymore.
The steady thrust of Jake’s tongue inside you, combined with the way his nose keeps rubbing against your swollen clit, pushes you straight over the edge. Your second orgasm hits hard and fast. Your thighs clamp around his head as you cry out, back arching off the couch while waves of pleasure crash through you.
While you’re still cumming, he quickly pulls his tongue out and replaces it with two fingers, sliding them deep into your clenching pussy. He curls them gently against that sensitive spot, pumping them slowly and steadily to draw out your orgasm even longer.
“That’s it…cum on my fingers again, baby,” he murmurs against your thigh, voice low and husky as he watches you fall apart. “Fuck, you’re squeezing so tight.”
He keeps fingering you through every pulse and shudder, soft and deep, never rushing. His thumb moves up to circle your clit lazily, prolonging the pleasure until your moans turn into breathy whimpers and your body finally starts to relax.
Even then, he doesn’t pull his fingers out right away. He leaves them buried inside your warm, fluttering heat, gently stroking your walls while he kisses the inside of your thigh, looking up at you with a satisfied, slightly smug smile.
─────────
Both of you cuddling in his bed, and sleep finally gets to you. You're both tangled in his sheets, limbs intertwined, the warmth of his body a grounding presence against your back. His arm is draped over your waist, his breath slow and even against your neck, and you can feel the occasional press of his lips against your shoulder ; delicate, absent, as he's kissing you even in his sleep.
You should be content and you are content. Nevertheless, there's a dull ache beginning to throb behind your eyes, a persistent pressure that makes you wince when you shift against the pillow.
"Jake," you murmur, your voice rough. "I have a headache."
He stirs behind you, his arm tightening around your waist. "Mmm?"
"A headache. Do you have any painkillers?"
He blinks, his eyes still heavy with sleep. "Bathroom cabinet on the top shelf. There's a bottle."
You start to untangle yourself, but his arm holds you for a moment longer, pulling you back against him. "Don't go," he mumbles, his nose brushing your ear.
"I'll be right back." You press a kiss to his knuckles, and he loosens his grip.
You pad out of the bedroom, the cool air of the apartment raising goosebumps on your bare skin. You grab the shirt he'd left on the floor ; his shirt, the one he'd worn earlier ; and pull it over your head. It falls to your thighs, soft and worn, and you feel a small thrill at the intimacy of it.
The bathroom is as small as you could remember the last time you took a shower, the light harsh when you flick it on. You find the painkillers easily, shake two into your palm, and turn to get water.
You pause.
The drawer next to the sink is slightly open, just a crack, and something inside catches your eye. You don't know why you reach for it. Curiosity, maybe. The same instinct that made you want to see the photo frame by his bed.
You pull it open.
The drawer is filled with photographs ; loose, some curled at the edges, same as snapshots you'd find in a shoebox under a bed. But these aren't random. You recognize the faces.
Your face. And Jake's face.
Both of you, younger. His hair is different, shorter, but the smile is the same. Your hair is shorter too, your eyes brighter, and you're pressed together like you've known each other for years. In another, you're at a café, holding up coffee cups, laughing at something off-camera. In another, you're in a park, your head on his shoulder, his arm around you like it's the most natural thing in the world.
Your hands are shaking. You dig deeper, pulling out more photos. One with your parents. Your mother's arm around you, your father's hand on Jake's shoulder, and the four of you are smiling at the camera like a family.
Another with Jungwon. He's younger, his face rounder, and he's giving a thumbs-up while Jake ruffles his hair.
You drop the photos. They scatter across the floor, and you stumble back, your back hitting the bathroom wall.
This doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense. You don't remember any of this. You've never seen these photos before in your life. But your face is there, your smile, your eyes. And Jake is there too, always beside you, he's always been part of the picture.
The memory loss. The three years.
You feel the world tilt beneath you, the edges of your vision going fuzzy. The photos on the floor stare up at you, silent and damning.
"Y/N?"
Jake's voice. He's at the doorway, his eyes still sleep-soft, and he's holding a glass of water. He takes one step into the bathroom, then stops. His gaze drops to the photos scattered around your feet.
The glass slips from his fingers. It shatters against the tile, water spreading in a river across the floor.
"Y/N," he says again, and his voice is different now, sounding afraid.
You look at him. At the face you've come to know over these past weeks. The face you've kissed, laughed with, let hold you. The face that has been hiding everything from you.
"You knew me?" you say, and your voice comes out flat, hollow. "You knew me before?"
He doesn't answer as the look on his face says it all.
"All this time," you continue, the words spilling out now, unstoppable. "You knew everything. You knew me. You knew me and you didn't say anything."
"I was going to tell you." His voice is low. "I was trying to find the right time. I didn't want to scare you—"
"Scare me?" A broken laugh escapes you. "I've been living in a fog for a year. I've been trying to piece together who I am, and you—you've been standing right there, holding all the pieces, and you didn't tell me."
The rain starts outside, a sudden downpour that hammers against the window. You don't remember putting on his clothes, but you're moving now, past him, through the apartment, toward the door. He calls your name without you turning back.
You barge into the hallway. The stairs are a blur beneath your feet. You burst out into the rain, and it hits you like a wall ; cold, merciless, soaking through the shirt, your hair and your skin.
You don't know where you're going, and you know you can't be near him, nor look at his face and see the truth you were too blind to notice.
The street is empty, the rain turning the pavement into a river. You walk, then run, your bare feet slapping against the wet ground, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Behind you, you hear a door slam. A voice calling your name, distant and helpless.
Your legs don’t seem to want to stop. Your bare feet slap against the wet pavement, each step sending shocks through your legs, but you don't stop. You actually can't stop because if you do, you'll have to think, and thinking means facing what you just saw.
Your fingers fumble with your phone, slick with rain, and you manage to pull up Jungwon's contact. It rings once, twice, three times, and then the automated voice cuts in. Voicemail. Full. You try again and it’s the same result.
"Come on," you mutter, your voice cracking. "Come on, pick up. Pick up—"
The phone slips from your grip, clattering onto the wet ground. You leave it behind and keep walking, your arms wrapped around yourself, the thin fabric of his shirt doing nothing to ward off the cold.
"Y/N."
His voice. Behind you. Closer than you expected.
You keep walking faster, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
"Y/N, please—just stop—"
"I don't want to talk to you." Your voice is barely audible over the rain. "Go away."
"I can't do that." His footsteps are closer now. "I can't let you run out like this. It's not safe."
"You don't get to decide what's safe for me." You finally stop, spinning around to face him. He's there, a few meters away, soaked through, his hair plastered to his forehead, his chest heaving. He's stopped too, keeping his distance like you're a wild animal that might bolt.
"You don't get to decide anything," you continue, your voice rising. "You knew me. You knew me and you lied. Every single day, every single conversation—you looked at me and you knew exactly who I was, and you let me stumble around like an idiot trying to figure it out."
"I didn't lie—"
"Hiding the truth is lying." You're shaking now, from cold and anger. "You kept all of it from me. The photos, the memories—" You gesture wildly. "Everything. You let me think we were strangers." Your voice cracks. "You let me fall for you like you were someone new."
"I had to." His voice is raw. "I had to keep it from you. It was the only way—"
"The only way for what?" You're yelling now, the rain muffling the sound but not the anger. "The only way to protect yourself? The only way to make sure you didn't have to deal with the mess of my broken brain?"
He flinches like you've struck him. "No. That's not—"
"Then what? What the fuck is about?"
He's quiet for a long moment. The rain falls between you, hard and cold, a curtain that separates you from him. When he speaks, his voice is quieter, barely above a whisper.
"Because I was scared."
You laugh, a hollow, broken sound. "Scared of what?"
"Of this." He gestures between the two of you. "Of you remembering and looking at me like you are right now. Like I'm a stranger. Like I'm someone who hurt you."
Your chest tightens. "God—Jake do you even care about me?"
"I fucking do." He takes a step closer, and then stops himself. "I loved you, Y/N. Before the accident. We were—" He runs a hand through his wet hair, his voice cracking. "We were together. For three freaking years. We lived together. We had a life."
You stare at him, the words hitting you like blows. "I don't remember."
"I’m aware of that." He's crying now, his tears mistook for rain drops. You can't tell. "I’m aware that you don't. And that's—that's the worst part. Because I've been standing here, watching you rebuild your life, and every time you looked at me like I was a stranger, it felt like losing you all over again."
"Why did you stay, then?" Your voice is barely a whisper. "Why didn't you just leave?"
"Because I made a promise." He meets your eyes. "A promise to your brother, to Jungwon. After the accident, when you couldn't remember anything—he came to me. He said that if I really loved you, I would stay away. That seeing me, remembering me, would confuse you. That it would hurt you more than it would help."
"So you just—walked away?"
"I tried. I moved to another city. I told myself it was for the best. But I couldn't." He stops, his voice breaking. "I couldn't stay away. When I heard you were coming back here, I told myself I wouldn't interfere and that I'd keep my distance. But then I saw you with that stupid umbrella, and—"
His words trail off, lost in the rain. You stand there, shivering, the weight of everything pressing down on you.
"I was scared," he continues, his voice still barely audible. "I was scared that if I told you, you'd run. That you'd look at me and feel nothing. That the person you were before—the person I loved—was gone forever, and I couldn't bear that. So I kept it to myself. I told myself I was protecting you. But really, I was protecting myself."
The silence longs between you.
"You should have told me," you finally say, and your voice is weak, drained of emotion. "You should have trusted me to handle it."
"I know." He looks down at the ground. "I know. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Y/N. I never wanted to hurt you. I just—" He stops, his shoulders shaking. "I just wanted to hold onto the part of you that was still mine. Even if you didn't know it."
Your chest is heaving again and you feel the tears mixing with the rain on your cheeks. You're not sure when you started crying or maybe you've been crying this whole time.
"When?" Your voice cracks once again. "When did we—when did we first meet?"
He looks up, and you see the tears streaming down his face, indistinguishable from the rain. "Nineteen," he says, his voice raw and broken. "We were nineteen. You were wearing that oversized Bieber shirt, and you tripped over your own feet walking into that library, and I—" He pauses, a sob tearing from his throat. "I fell in love with you right there."
You feel the sob building in your chest, unstoppable and devastating. "I’m sorry."
"It’s okay." He's crying openly now, his shoulders shaking. "I—I needed you to know that you were loved. That you are loved. By me. Always."
Your legs give out. You don't realize it until you're sinking, your knees hitting the wet pavement, your hands bracing against the cold ground. The sobs are torn from you now, ugly and loud, your entire body shaking with the force of them.
He’s already moving. His feet splash against the wet ground, closing the distance between you in seconds. He drops to his knees in front of you, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you against his chest. His body shields you from the rain, his hands cradling the back of your head, pressing your face into the warmth of his neck.
"I'm sorry," he's saying, over and over, his voice broken and fragile. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Y/N."
You feel his tears against your skin, his body shaking with the same sobs that are tearing through you. He holds you tighter, afraid you'll disappear, and you grip the wet fabric of his shirt, your fingers twisted in the material.
"I don't remember," you choke out. "I don't remember any of it."
"That's okay." His voice is a whisper, trembling. "That's okay. We can—we can start over. We can make new memories. Whatever you need. I'll give you whatever you need."
You pull back just enough to look at him. His face is streaked with rain and tears, his eyes red-rimmed, his expression open and completely unguarded.
You let him hold you, his arms wrapped around you like a shield against the world, and you feel something shift in your chest. The rain continues to fall, but you barely notice it anymore.
All you feel is him.
─────────
The next morning. You're sitting on the edge of the couch, your legs stretched out in front of you, the bruises on your knees a mottled purple from the fall the night before. The rain has stopped, but the world outside is still wet, the streets glistening under the gray sky.
Jake is kneeling in front of you, a small first-aid kit open on the floor beside him. His movements are gentle, careful, as he dabs at the scrapes with an antiseptic wipe. You flinch slightly at the sting, and he murmurs an apology, his fingers light against your skin.
"I could do it on my own." you say, your voice hoarse from crying.
"Let me do it for you. Please." He doesn't look up, his focus on the cut on your knee. "I should have done this last night, but you were—" He stops, swallowing. "You were upset. I didn't want to push."
You watch him as he works, the furrow of concentration between his brows, his lower lip catches between his teeth. His hands are steady despite everything, carefully smoothing the edges of a bandage over your skin.
"There," he says softly. "All done."
You're about to say something when the door slams open.
Jungwon stands in the doorway, his chest heaving and his eyes wild. He's still in his clothes from yesterday, his hair disheveled, his phone clutched in his hand like a lifeline. He must have come straight from wherever he was, must have run the whole way. His gaze sweeps the room and takes in the two of you. Jake kneeling at your feet. The bandage on your knee. Your tear-streaked face. And mostly, the visible tension in the air.
He looks at Jake and at you while shifting his gaze between both of you.
"Fuck." he says, the word heavy, loaded with remorse.
Jake rises slowly to his feet. He stands there, his hands at his sides, his face blank.
"Jungwon," he starts, but Jungwon cuts him off.
"What the fuck, Jake." He steps into the room, the door swinging shut behind him. "I told you—I told you to stay away. I told you it would be better for her. And for everyone. And you—" He stops, his jaw tight. "You couldn't keep your promise for even a year?"
"It wasn't like that." Jake's voice is steady yet a tremor is present beneath it. "I didn't plan this. It just happened."
"It just happened?" Jungwon scoffs. "You see her in the hallway and suddenly all your promises mean nothing?"
"Jungwon—" you start, both of them turn to look at you, and the weight of their gazes makes the words die in your throat. Jungwon's expression softens slightly. "Are you okay?" he asks, the question is directed at you, not Jake.
You don't know how to answer that. Are you okay? You're sitting in the apartment of a man you've known for weeks, who apparently knew you for three years before that, who you still can't remember, who you cried in the rain with, who bandaged your knees this morning because he cares about you. And you can’t understand any of it.
"I don't know," you say honestly.
Jungwon runs a hand through his hair, exhales slowly. "I should have told you," he says with regret in his voice. "I should have told you about him. About everything. I thought I was protecting you, but I—" He pauses and shakes his head. "I made it worse."
"He knew," you say, voice flat. "He knew and he kept it from me. You both did."
Jake flinches and Jungwon looks away.
"I had to," Jake says quietly. "I had to see if you could remember on your own. If there was any part of you that still—" He swallows, the words caught in his throat. "I needed to know if you could love me without the memories."
Jungwon's head snaps toward him. "That's not why you did it."
"Isn't it?" Jake's voice is raw. "I wanted to believe that if I just gave you time, you'd remember, and I know that it sounds stupid. That you'd look at me and see all the years we had. But you didn't. You never did." He looks at you, his eyes glassy. "And I had to accept that the person I loved might never come back. But I still loved you anyway."
The silence in the room is suffocating. You look from Jake to Jungwon, the weight of their secrets pressing down on you, and you feel something crack inside your chest.
Jungwon is the one to break it. "I'm sorry," he says, the words are directed at both of you. "I was scared. I didn't want to lose you again, Y/N. And when I saw the two of you starting to know each other I panicked." He confesses, his composure cracking. "I just wanted to protect you and I failed. I failed both of you."
Jake stays silent, his eyes fixed on the floor.
You take a breath. The air is thick, but you force yourself to speak.
"I don't remember him," you say, looking at Jungwon. "I don't remember any of it. But I—" You stop, your voice catching. "I know I felt something. Even when I didn't know who he was. That has to count for something, doesn't it?"
Jungwon meets your eyes. Then he nods, slowly.
"Yeah," he says quietly. "It does."
─────────
The afternoon has settled in, the earlier tension slowly unwinding like a knot being picked apart. Jungwon left an hour ago, his goodbye awkward but not hostile, a promise to call later that felt more like a question than a statement. You'd watched him go, the door clicking shut behind him, and then you'd turned to find Jake standing in the middle of the living room, his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyes uncertain.
Neither of you had spoken for a while. Then you'd walked to the kitchen, pulled out a cutting board and some vegetables, and started preparing something that might become dinner. He'd followed, hovering at the edge of the counter, until you'd handed him a knife and told him to chop the onions.
Now you're standing at the stove, stirring a pan of vegetables, while Jake sits on a stool behind you. His fingers are in your hair again, separating strands, twisting them together with a concentration that's become familiar over the past few days. The braid is better than yesterday ; still not perfect, but recognizable.
"You're getting better at this," you say, your voice quiet.
"I've had practice." An incredible softness in his voice. "Also, you're very patient. That helps."
You stir the vegetables, watching them sizzle and soften. The silence is comfortable, however, there's something sitting between you, a question you've been turning over in your mind since last night.
"Jake," you start, and you feel him pause, his fingers stilling in your hair. "Can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
You keep your eyes on the pan. "Last night—was that our first time?"
You feel him go still behind you. His hands are frozen in your hair, and for a moment, you think you've overstepped. You feel his breath, a soft exhale, and his hands resume their work.
"Yes," he says, and his voice is careful. "That was our first time."
The words hang in the air. You nod slowly, processing. "So we never had sex…before the accident?"
He shakes his head, even though you can't see him. "We were close, and we lived together. But we never did those kind of things." He pauses, his fingers continuing to work through your hair. "We were waiting. I don't know what we were waiting for. The right moment, maybe." His voice drops. "I never really thought about it. I just knew I wanted it to be right."
You set down the spoon, turning to face him. He's watching you, his hands hovering where your hair falls against your shoulders. His eyes are searching, cautious.
"Jake," you say. "How long did you go without doing it?" You stop, not sure how to phrase it. "Without being with anyone?"
He understands. His jaw tightens, and he looks down at his hands. "It’s been a year. Since the accident." He meets your eyes again. "I couldn't. I tried to…talk to girls, once. It didn't feel right. I mean, I didn't feel right. I couldn't even hold someone's hand without feeling like I was betraying you."
You feel your breath catch. "Even when you didn't know if I'd ever remember?"
"Especially then." His voice honest. "It didn't matter if you remembered me or not. I remembered you. I knew what we had, and…I couldn't replace that. I really didn't want to."
You look at him, this man who's been carrying this weight for three years, who stayed loyal to a ghost he didn't know would ever come back. You look at his hands shaking slightly, his eyes are glassy.
"I didn't know," you say.
"How could you?"
You reach out, your hand finding his. He looks down at your fingers intertwined, and you feel the dull trembling in his grip.
"Thank you," you say, your voice almost a whisper. "For waiting. Even when you didn't have to."
He looks at you with vulnerability in his gaze. "I never really had a choice. It was always you. It's always been you."
You pull him closer, your arms wrapping around him, your face pressing into his shoulder. He holds you back, his arms tight around your waist, and you feel the steady beat of his heart against your chest.
The vegetables are still burning. You're still wrapped in his arms, your face pressed into his shoulder, his warmth seeping through the thin fabric of your shirt. His hand is cradling the back of your head, his fingers gently threading through the braid he'd just finished.
He pulls back to look at you. His eyes are red-rimmed, his face still carrying the traces of the tears you'd both shed.
"I love you," he says.
The words are simple, unadorned. Only three words, spoken as they've been sitting on his tongue for years, waiting for the right moment to be released. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Your throat is tight, your chest aching with the pressure of everything you don't know how to say.
Noticing your silence, he leans in, his lips pressing against your forehead, lingering long enough for you to feel the slight shaking in his breath.
Then your cheek. The corner of your eye. The bridge of your nose. Each kiss is slow, like he's tracing the contours of your face with his mouth, memorizing every inch. His lips brush your temple, your jaw, the base of your neck.
"You don't have to say it back," he murmurs against your skin. "I just needed you to know."
You feel the tears pricking at your eyes again, yet they're not the same as before. "You've been carrying this for a year," you manage, your voice thick. "And you still—"
"Still love you." He presses another kiss to your cheek, then your other cheek, then the corner of your mouth. "Yes. I do. And I'll keep saying it until you're tired of hearing it."
"I won't get tired."
He pulls back, his eyes searching yours.
"That’s good for me." he says softly, the smile that tugs at his lips is small and tentative. His hands cup your face, thumbs brushing away the tears that have escaped down your cheeks. He leans in, his forehead resting against yours, and you feel the warmth of him surrounding you.
"Jake," you whisper.
"Yeah?"
"Stay with me. While I try to remember. While I figure this out." You swallow. "Don't leave again."
He doesn't hesitate once. "I won't."
His lips find yours, soft and gentle, and when he pulls back, he presses one last kiss to the tip of your nose.
You were ready to rebuild your life, with everything you’ve shared from now, with him.
drinking / reader gets super drunk ; throwing up ; jake is borderline a lil germaphobe ; fluff
2,409:WC request✉️
You have friends in different majors and on different schedule plans.
Your semester ended about a week ago, but you just got the results of one of your last final exams yesterday.
You’ve been in a great mood since then.
So when your friend took her last final exam and suggested that you and your friends have a girls’ night in, you were quick to say yes.
Everyone had their reasons too; some needed motivation to take their own exams, others were celebrating their own results.
Overall, there was a lot of excitement for this to happen.
That’s the only reason you forgot you were supposed to see Jake that night and spend the weekend there.
You’d never purposefully blow him off with no reason, you genuinely forgot.
Maybe deep down, Jake knows that too.
That’s why he isn’t as mad as he’d like to be and why he stayed up late in case you showed up suddenly.
Surely there are better things to do than to sit on a couch and stare up at the ceiling though.
Not just because it’s boring, but also because the way he’s slumped up in it can’t be comfortable.
“Hmph…”
It’s almost 1 in the morning and you’re only calling him now?
Jake stares at his phone for a little, mostly at the picture he uses as your contact as he debates letting it go to voicemail.
“What?” He answers.
Not only did he pick up at the last minute, but he also has a little attitude in his tone; something your friend picks up on immediately.
“Uhm…hello…” she says hesitantly, almost considering that she might’ve called the wrong number.
Jake notices immediately that it isn’t you on the other end; but he feels worse when he hears from this person that you’ve blacked out on their couch and need him to go pick you up.
“Right, sorry…” his voice softens a little in embarrassment, “could you send the address to this number? I’ll be there.”
He bumps his hand on his shoe rack in his attempt to get his shoes on with one hand while holding his phone with the other.
If he hadn’t rushed himself to get them on to try and get there faster and make up for the fact that he sounded like an asshole at first, that wouldn’t have happened.
He had one chance to make a good first impression, and now at least one of your friends thinks he’s worse than he actually is.
And that’s generous.
If you’re so drunk that you blacked out, your friends are probably about there themselves.
He can’t expect your friend to not have mentioned to the others how he picked up the phone to your number.
Godddd.
Even how he knocks probably seems like an attempt to make them overlook his initial attitude.
“Hi…” Jake says softly, a small smile as he’s greeted by a girl he can only assume is one of your friends.
She stares up at him blankly at first, then she seems to realize that she doesn’t know him and her eyes narrow at him.
“Can I help you?” She asks.
Jake rubs his hands together nervously; he hasn’t met your friends yet, but they’re probably not even going to remember that they saw him tonight.
Jake explains why he’s here and who he is.
After mentioning that he’s your boyfriend, your friend’s eyes widen as she looks him up and down in a new light.
“You’re big bucks?” She asks; by this point, she’d taken so long at the door that two other girls had the idea to check on her.
They came up behind her as she said this to him.
“Uhh…yeah…” Jake admits.
He hates that nickname.
He hears it so often because you do it to make him uncomfortable on purpose whenever he pays for something for you after you ask him not to.
“That’s her boyfriend?” One of them asks; doing a horrible job at whispering to the first girl.
“You’re Jaeyun?” The third asks.
“Jake is fine,” he corrects gently, trying to make them a little more comfortable.
Now he has three girls staring at him like he’s some big surprise.
Did you not show them pictures?
He showed the guys pictures of you even before you met them, and they knew about you before then too.
“It’s pretty late, you guys mind if I come in to grab her?” He asks after a bit.
If he didn’t bring it up, he might’ve gotten stuck with them like this for an hour.
“Right—“ one of them says suddenly, pulling the other girls with her to make room for him to come inside.
They lead him through the apartment towards the living room.
By now you’ve come back to, but you don’t look as good as you probably did before you had that much to drink.
There are two more girls sitting near you, about as woozy as you seem to be.
After a quick introduction that sounds more like a warning to the two girls not to say anything in front of him, he has them staring at him too.
“Hey…” he says carefully, leaning forward a bit to come into your view, “you ready to go?”
As Jake appears in your view, your expression softens a little and you straighten up quickly.
“I was gonna call you—“ you gasp, raising your voice a little.
Jake recognizes that you’re going to stand up on your own and reaches out to help stabilize you.
He gives you one hand to hold onto while the other remains free after he uses it to hold a finger up to his mouth.
“You’re yelling, baby” he points out gently, helping you come around the couch you were just sitting on.
“Oh…sorry…” you say sheepishly, looking at your friends while Jake grabs your jacket off the backrest.
This would be less awkward if he’d met your friends before while they were sober; he has no business trying to talk to them when he knows virtually nothing about them.
So he tries to hide behind you; helping you put on your jacket there while he whispers over, “say bye to your friends…”
Saying he regrets encouraging that sounds mean; but he didn’t expect you to take that as a suggestion to have a full conversation with all five of them at once.
All he could do was stand beside you with an arm wrapped around your shoulders to keep you upright.
“Thank you for taking care of her~” one of them eventually says, bringing him into the conversation.
Jake offers a small smile, but he’s taking this as a chance to excuse you both out of here.
“Of course,” he says, “we should go, excuse us…”
“Bye, girls—“ you call out as he leads you away, leaving behind an echo of girls saying their goodbyes to you at once.
He’s not embarrassed in the traditional sense—more shy than anything.
And that doesn’t stop even after he gets you into the elevator.
“I really was going to call you…” you say, bringing it up again.
Jake sighs a little, leaning against the wall of the elevator as he secures you with an arm around your waist.
“Why’d you blow me off?” He asks, tilting his head at you.
“I completely forgot,” you explain, your words connecting together by slurring them into one word every now and then, “I didn’t even realize until seulgi called you.”
“Baby…”
“That was less than 30 minutes ago…”
Has to be true though, otherwise you would have lied and said you realized after the first drinks.
“Aww…really?” You whine, mimicking his head tilt.
He can’t stay mad at you, not now that he knows it wasn’t on purpose and not while you’re like this.
“You still wanna come over?” He asks, straightening up as the bell of the elevator rings, “or do you want me to take you home?”
“With you—with you—“ you answer quickly, getting a bit of your energy back as you try to walk faster out of the lobby.
Jake thought this meant you were much more capable; you were fine the entire ride over, you started speaking clearer, you even asked him to stop at a convenience store and got off with him to get what you wanted.
Even if you needed him to carry you from the car to his apartment on his back, he just assumed you were lazy.
But the minute you walked through the front door, you left him at the door to go straight into the kitchen.
With your shoes still on and all, Jake lagged behind you and found you throwing up into his garbage bin.
He should have seen that coming though; you were passed out on a couch before he picked you up.
Doesn’t make it any less icky though.
“I know, baby…” he sighs, wincing a little as he stands by with one hand rubbing your back and the other holding your hair back for you.
Jake doesn’t drink nearly enough to enjoy putting up with this.
Even the guys don’t get this kind of treatment, and he’s known them for 6 years.
“Jake…” you whine, leaning into the trash a little.
“It needed to happen,” he says, using a hair tie he keeps on his wrist to tie your hair back, “how else are you supposed to sober up?”
He might keep the hair tie, but that’s just in case you need it—Jake knows nothing about pulling your hair back for you.
“Hmmm…” you groan softly, slowly straightening up to look at him.
Damn you and your sick puppy look…
He really doesn’t want to, but he’s going to have to, isn’t he?
“Cmon, let’s get you cleaned up…” he says, closing up the trash bag before he leaves it to take you to the bathroom.
He leans you against the counter and tells you to wash your mouth and face with some water while he finds you a change of clothes.
Because surely you can manage that while he leaves for less than a second.
Except he comes back to find you leaning over the counter and trying to stick your head under the faucet while it runs.
“No, baby-“ he says, cutting himself off as he processes the sight.
Thankfully you didn’t actually get any vomit on you; that would have made this a million times harder to do.
“Don’t drink it.” He warns; because apparently, he can’t take any chances with you like this.
Jake holds you upright as he gathers some water in his palm and leans you over the sink slightly while he brings it up to your mouth.
At least he doesn’t have to guide you through the process of gargling some water.
“I’m gonna wash your face, wait.”
While you lean over to spit the water out of your mouth, he uses the opportunity to collect some more water in his palm to wash your face.
He does this twice before turning the water off and having you turn around to face him.
“I love you, really—I do,” he says, pinching the hem of your shirt to hint at what he wants to do.
“But…?” You press, lifting your arms up to give him permission to take your shirt off.
“Please, never drink again.” He sighs, letting your shirt fall off to the side.
“or, whatever. If you wanna drink, drink.” He continues, “just never get drunk.”
He gets you in a shirt of his and then helps you into the only pair of sweats he has that have a drawstring.
Under any other circumstances, it would be cuter to see you in his clothes.
Right now unfortunately, he’s more concerned with the trash bag in his kitchen…settling…in his garbage bin.
“Go lay down, I’ll be there in a little…” he sighs, kissing your forehead before nudging you gently to get you to walk ahead.
You don’t think to ask where he’s going, you just do what he tells you to while he leaves to do whatever he has to.
He has to repeat to himself how much he loves you while he takes the trash out.
A little vomit is not going to change that.
Not even if it makes him gag once or twice and if he has to wash his hands twice with a lot of soap before he feels comfortable going to bed.
He knows he’s clean.
But his hoodie gets abandoned by the laundry regardless because it feels unclean from having been around you in it.
More for you.
You’re never going to complain when you get the chance to see him shirtless under normal circumstances.
“Hello…” you say softly, a small grin as he crawls into bed with you.
“Behave.” He gasps softly, as if you really just said the worst thing in the world.
You chuckle, clinging onto him as soon as he’s close enough.
“I keep getting texts from the girls,”
You speak mostly into his chest, so it’s a little harder to hear between the muffled voice and also the occasional slurred word.
But the last part is annoyingly clear.
“They thought you’d look different…uglier…for some reason…” you explain, “because why else would a 25 year old date someone like me?”
Jake closes his eyes for a moment
“I’m not even 24 yet…” he groans softly; you’re definitely the type to overexaggerate the age gap.
“Mmm but you’re closer to that than 20, sooo…”
“I’m this close from making you sleep on my couch.”
Empty threats, even if he comes down to look at you when he says this.
“Okay, I’m sorry.”
You throw in a few kisses to his nose and cheeks for good measure, but he’s more glad that you didn’t try to kiss him properly.
“Can’t believe this is the kind of treatment I have to endure in my own home…”
“Even after all I’ve done for you…”
You smooth things over with a quick “I love you”, and Jake accepts it because he was never actually mad at you.
Even if you let your friends have the impression that he was some gross old guy who bought you things to keep you around.
“You’re never allowed to call me ‘big bucks’ again, by the way.”
SUMMARY: Sunghoon longs for you, his childhood friend, in a way that some might call peculiar. He likes to pick fights, he likes to see you mad. And the thing with Sunghoon is that he just doesn’t know when to quit his teasing, especially if it means more attention from you. It gets to a point in the night, though, when that’s all you're begging him to do.
PAIRING: sunghoon x fem!reader
WORD COUNT: 8k+
GENRE: childhood!friend to lovers, smut, some angst, fluff, some toxic themes
WARNINGS: mdni, nsfw, porn with some plot ig, unprotected sex, drunk sex (both parties), dom!Sunghoon, mean!Sunghoon, tease!Sunghoon, slight exhibitionism, emotional constipation, jealousy, dacryphilia, desperate af, clothed sex, saliva, biting, hoon bicep, big dick, just straight up freaky lowkey i don't know what got into me, lmk if i missed anything
A/N: this sunghoon photoshoot literally rose me from the dead. that's how impactful this shit was. and i’m not gonna lie, this was written out of pure lust. i lowkey cooked. enjoy.
Sometimes Sunghoon likes to be misunderstood.
Like when he’s walking down the street, and people start blatantly staring at him as if he’s unable to sense their longing gazes.
He enjoys how naive people think he is about his own attractiveness.
Or when they assume he’s lost in his own world, eyes unfocused, but he’s actually way too deep in thought. Formulating escape plans during parties on the most efficient way to sneak away without having to say goodbye to 15 people.
It’s easier for others to think they know him better than he knows himself, that they can just fill in the blanks.
He especially likes it when people incorrectly assume that you two are dating. Childhood friends who bicker like a jaded couple. A satisfying assumption, in his opinion.
But when you come into those conversations, you often have to clarify that Sunghoon isn’t anyone special. He’s just one of three of your childhood friends. Growing up in the same neighborhood, families who go on trips together. He has to pretend like he’s not disappointed when you mention the others.
Jake and Jay.
How could he forget?
“They're all like brothers to me,” you would say, rubbing salt into the gaping wound of his heart.
If Sunghoon were more open, he'd tell the truth.
He is a greedy, greedy man.
And he only likes misunderstandings when it comes to him and you. So when he walks into Jay’s apartment, heart racing to see you, he is met with a disgruntling scene.
You’re there sitting next to Jake on the couch, Sunghoon having to drop down into the nearby armchair because he arrived a little too late. There was no room left to sit next to you.
But it doesn’t matter anyway.
The two of you barely spare him a glance, just muttering a quick “hey” before getting back into your conversation. What could possibly be that interesting?
Why not ask him about his modeling gig? How the photoshoot even went?
Sunghoon sits there, in his slightly cropped teal tank top and distressed jeans. He knows he looks fucking good. Why is no one saying anything to him?
No, instead you’re engrossed in chatting with Jake. Fucking Sim Jaeyun. Does he have a modeling gig? Nope.
It pisses Sunghoon off because he knows that if a stranger were to walk in and see you two, they’d assume you were dating. But remember: Sunghoon only likes misunderstandings of that nature if it's between you two.
He’s not big on public displays of affection, never has been. It’s a problem of his. The stereotypical boy who acts all mean with the girl he likes (you).
In fact, he remembers being quite a shitty kid.
Used to tug on your pigtails, stealing your hair ties so he could wear them on his wrists later as a keepsake. Used to playfight with you until bruises would litter his knees from your harsh kicks.
As you two grew up, he quelled this weird addiction to seeing you pouty with him until it settled into a subtle lull. No, now, he'd much rather fluster you with his teasing words than physical afflictions.
Yet Sunghoon can't help the way his eye twitches when Jake inches just a little too close for comfort—in a way that Sunghoon desperately wishes he could do.
Jake is kind. Jake is sweet. Jake probably has good intentions. But the distance between you two leaves a lot to be interpreted and it was making Sunghoon fester in his own misunderstandings.
If Jake wasn't manspreading, Sunghoon could probably squeeze in between you two. If Jay bought a velvet couch that could fit more than three small children, maybe he could sit even more comfortably by your side. But no. His friends are idiots.
Except you, of course.
“Money management is key, [Y/N],” Jake continues in his boring spiel. “Am I guilty of buying overpriced hoodies? Yes! But you don't need to go to PopMart all the time—”
“Yes, I do!” you interrupt.
If Sunghoon listened well enough, he'd realize how mundane this conversation truly was. Just you trying to get counseled on your horrid spending habits, on how to be more frugal.
He would probably have given better advice than the guy who has a ridiculous snapback collection wasting away in his room. But right now he's distracted because Jake's arm is cast over the cushion behind your back—just a step below having his arm around you, in Sunghoon’s warped opinion.
His dark brows furrow in contemplation. He recalls confronting Jake once before that he pushes physical boundaries a little too much. Elbows casually resting on others, practically hugging people from behind regardless of who they were.
Still cozying up to girls who he had no romantic interests toward. Like you, who Sunghoon very much had romantic interests toward.
A grade school crush that developed into a puppy love and morphed into a disgusting possessiveness akin to lust. Oh, how he misses how innocently he looked at you without wondering how you'd sound splayed out underneath him. But with adulthood comes adult intentions. And right now, he feels very much so that Jake carries the same ones with how he touches you so unabashedly.
Though, if Sunghoon were to voice this all out loud, any sane person would say he’s overreacting, given that all Jake did was grab your wrist to tilt your phone closer to him.
“You spent that much on food this month?!” Jake gawks and you shoot him a glare, silently and daringly asking him to repeat himself.
“You saying that I eat too much?” you feign anger.
“No,” Jake repents, all flustered. “You know I didn’t mean it that way—”
“Oh my gosh,” you gasp, teasing him so. “That's so fucked up Jake.”
The puppy-like boy gasps. “Why would you ever think I'd say that to you—”
Sunghoon just tries to tune out of the conversation completely.
‘Don't tease Jake,’ he thinks to himself. That's something you do with him.
If Sunghoon were more open, he would just tell you these things. Maybe even tell Jake to scoot the fuck back and away from his girl (who isn't really his girl).
But again, Sunghoon remains calm because he likes to come off as disciplined and charming and not at all insane about the way his friends since birth interact with each other—
“Dude?” Jake calls out, waving his hand to get Sunghoon's attention. When he doesn't respond, both Jake and you snort out a laugh. “Zoning out per usual…”
When Sunghoon hears the sweet lilting of your chuckle, his head jolts, eyes refocusing as they fall back into your eyes. Your beautiful eyes. It calms the anger that bubbles in his soul. But not enough to stop the bite of his next words.
“How can you still spend money on food when I'm the one buying all your meals?” Sunghoon chimes in with a bored tone, prepared for the glare that you throw in his direction.
That's what you get for ignoring him since he came here, when he was all dressed up too.
“Excuse me?”
Sunghoon makes that stupid noise he likes to do, the one where he sounds like a congested grandpa.
“Maybe we should look at my card statements to see how much you've drained out of my wallet this month, [Y/N]~”
Jake laughs, shaking his head at the back and forth. Here you guys go again…
“Stop offering to pay then, bozo!” you huff, voice raising slightly. Sunghoon just shakes his head, amused.
You know he could never do that, right?
It was one of the few things he had over Jake and Jay. Late-night convenience store snacks, coffee runs, and sweet treats. All on his card. He spoiled you relentlessly, even if he holds those supposed acts of kindness over your head.
Sunghoon just can't help it. You look so cute angry.
He stares at you, wearing that lazy smile he always has on when he's about to say something meant to drive you crazy. In more ways than one.
“You're broke,” Sunghoon states plainly. Mockingly too. “I’m doing a good deed to help out the less fortunate, you know? Increasing my karma…”
You bare your teeth at him.
If Jake was known to take his physical affection too far, Sunghoon was known for his fighting words even more so.
“No need,” you huff out, ego bruised. “I don’t need you. Jake's got me. Right, Jake?!”
Jake's about to say no, but Sunghoon scoffs on his behalf. Hurt that you'd even suggest that.
“He is unemployed—”
Jake raises his hands in confusion, eyes wide. “Man, why are you dragging me into this—”
“Dinner's ready!” Jay yells through the kitchen wall. “Stop arguing!”
Jay had promised you all a new steak and pasta recipe he'd been perfecting for the past few days. It was standard procedure to let him have the kitchen all to himself. And not disturb him.
“Do we wanna eat in the living room or at the dining table?!” Jay calls out again.
“Bring the food over,” you screech back, ignoring Sunghoon’s sulking figure in the armchair. “I'm too lazy to get up.”
“Of course,” the usually stoic boy cuts in, eyes darting toward you with a cheeky smile. “That’s just so like you, isn’t it?”
You glower; the side-eye you give him would be lethal if you weren’t so endearing. Sunghoon’s mouth spreads into an even wider grin. An addict, truly.
“Jay, you need help or nah?” Jake asks loudly, standing up and into the kitchen, blissfully unaware of how Sunghoon watches you like a wolf. When he leaves, and you're left alone together, your silent treatment ensues.
That doesn’t stop Sunghoon from standing up and taking Jake’s place on the tiny couch. His thigh presses against yours, closer than he usually gets.
Physical touch.
He can do this much, especially now that you think Jake could ever replace him.
“Show me your bank account,” Sunghoon pries, feeling the FOMO even deeper from the conversation he didn’t take part in earlier. “I wanna see~”
You pass him another disgruntled look, scooting away.
“Why?” you mutter. “You’re just gonna judge me anyway. No thanks.”
You scroll through your phone, head lying on the couch's velvety armchair, paying no mind to his awkward expression.
Did he go too far? Why, yes! Sunghoon tends to.
“I won’t, I promise.” He purses his lips when you don’t budge. He tries to take a peek at your phone, and you turn away just in time. He sucks in his teeth.
“...Why are you acting all secretive?”
No response.
“I'm pretty good with money, you know? Better than Jake at least…”
Nothing again.
“And I can help you open an investment account right now too. You know, I like investing and all that…”
Crickets. That was a lie anyway.
He pokes your side. You push him away.
Okay fine. Fuck you too.
“Don’t tell me,” Sunghoon fakes a gasp. “Is it ‘cause your account is in the negatives?”
Sorry. He can’t help it.
You sit up straight at his accusation, eyes staring daggers into the small smirk that forms on his lips.
“Why are you being so fucking rude?” you snap, arms crossed. “You've been quiet since you got here and only speak up when you get the chance to say something mean. What the hell is your problem today?”
If Sunghoon were more open—like you—he'd tell you the truth. That he was quiet because he didn't feel included. That he's more mad at Jake than he is at you. That he just likes to see you frustrated with him because it makes the moments where he makes you happy all the more rewarding.
Because after this stupid hangout with Jay and Jake, he's already planning to offer you a drive home with a detour to your favorite ice cream place. He’ll pay, because he always does. And then he’ll get to see those small crinkles around your eyes when you get one of the seasonal flavors in a waffle cone with a towering two scoops.
Sunghoon's heart warms from just imagining that scenario alone, but he continues to push your buttons. He doesn’t feel like you’ve given him enough of your time just quite yet.
“Am I rude?" He asks mischievously, lips turned up in a sly smile. “Or are you just being sensitive?”
He might be a sadist, really. But he'll think a little more deeply about that another day.
You stand up in front of Sunghoon, so quick with your movements that he wasn’t even able to blink before you put him into a headlock. Just like when you were children.
“Stop being an asshole!” You grumble, squeezing your arms a little more to knock the wind out of his throat. “You’re stinky freaking attitude is why you’re perpetually single—”
Sunghoon chokes and struggles, but the adrenaline in his body remembers that he's an athlete. He lifts you by your thighs, taking you down onto the couch and prying your claws off of his bare skin.
He pretends not to feel a rush of pressure pool within his groin at the digging of your nails as they itch his neck. He hopes he can still see the red marks when he checks in the mirror later.
Sunghoon's hands wrap around your wrists, lifting them above your head. He looks down, surprised even by himself at how swiftly he reacts. But he isn't given enough time to process because you start kicking him on his abdomen.
“You know that doesn't hurt, right?” He laughs, thick brows wiggling on his features. “And why bring up my relationship status?”
“There’s no relationship status to bring up, you lonely piece of—”
Sunghoon continues to chuckle as you miss a kick to his crotch.
His girl. So entertaining.
Another kick lands on his shins. But his muscles were already sore from the gym last night. Any pressure against them now just felt like a jab of a massage gun.
You groan out in frustration. “Why the fuck is your body resistant to pain? Do you take steroids or something—”
“Hell no!” He grimaces, genuinely irritated. “All natural by the wa—”
“You shouldn't even be fighting back. You're the one in the wrong!”
He scoffs, grip tightening. Sunghoon’s face morphs into a mocking pout, eyes squinted ever so slightly.
“Sorry, baby, should I just have let you choke me out?”
And those words cause you both to still. Eyes on each other like two deer caught in headlights. Sunghoon’s suddenly more aware now. Of how your shirt is riding up, tummy ever so slightly exposed. Of how your feet are planted at his sides, grazing his tank top. Of how he can envision himself fitting in between the warmth of your thighs so perfectly.
Fuck.
Sunghoon lets go because he likes to think of himself as a decent man, and peels off of you. He grabs a throw pillow, placing it on his tightening sweats. A misunderstanding.
He could just play it off as another misunderstanding.
Still, you sit up in shock. Where the hell did that come from?
And it was almost perfect timing, the way Jake and Jay walk through the kitchen door with plates of mouthwatering food in their hands.
“Who’s hungry?!” And when neither of you respond to Jay, he eyes you two suspiciously.
“I told you guys to stop fighting at my place,” Jay sighs, obviously not having heard the last few words that Sunghoon blurted out. “It’s like every day with you two…”
The boys set down the plates on the coffee table, and Jake goes back into the kitchen to grab utensils.
“He started it—” But your voice trails off when you realize how kiddish you sound.
“Then learn how to end it, [Y/N],” Jay grumbles, taking a seat on the armchair that Sunghoon was sulking in just moments before. “You know he likes getting a reaction out of you. You just gotta ignore him sometimes. I know I do.”
Meanwhile, Sunghoon is trying to ignore something too. His raging hard-on. He’s trying his very best.
Naked grandma. Naked grandma. Naked grandma—
Jake walks back in, forks and knives in one hand and a bottle of wine on the other.
“Did we wanna crack this open tonight?”
Jay throws up an ‘OK’ sign with one hand, adjusting the plates so he could take a proper photo with his phone.
“Can't,” you say, desperately trying to avoid eye contact with the statuesque boy next to you. “I got work in the morning.”
And just like that, Sunghoon snaps out of his stupor. Ice cream! Yes! You with a waffle cone. He needs to make it up to you. For being mean or whatever you called him.
“I can take you home.”
You gawk. Did he forget the hydrogen bomb he just dropped on you earlier? Like hell would you let him take you home.
But Jake beats you to a reply.
“Bro, don't tell me you’re not drinking either?!” Jake complains, popping open the wine bottle and chugging it straight from the lip. He holds it out to Sunghoon, egging him on to take a sip.
“You can all just stay over,” Jay sighs, standing up to get actual wine glasses to avoid Jake's nasty backwash. “[Y/N] can sleep on the couch and you two take the guestroom. I can wake you up in time for work.”
Wow, was chivalry dead? He didn’t even bother to offer to give you his room instead.
You roll your eyes, trying to speak up. “You know peer pressure is—”
“You made me take four shots with you at the club last week,” Jake chimes in, calling your bullshit from a mile away. He tilts the bottle to you as his new target. “Now, chug.”
You scoff, but your hand does reach out for the wine anyway. Lord knows you need it after what just transpired.
Sunghoon sees how your fingers would have inadvertently touched Jake's if he let that happen, though. So it only makes sense that he grabs the wine before you even get the chance, right?
He lifts the bottle into his mouth, uncaring of how much red liquid rushes down his throat. How could he ever let you touch Jake with the same wrists he held down just minutes before?
Of course, there was no way you would let Sunghoon take the drink that was meant for you, either. Did he think you were too weak to take that swig of pathetic wine? Please.
You grab the bottle from his clutches and match the gulps you witnessed him do.
You two tug the bottle away from each other, just taking turns downing the red liquid, lacking consideration for your other friends who also wanted to get wasted tonight.
“You two need an intervention,” Jake sighs, disappointed but not surprised.
When Jay walks back in with four glasses in his hands, he looks on in disgust that there were maybe five sips left in the bottle for him to drink from. And droplets of red wine wiped over his velvet cream couch.
“Just unsanitary," he mutters under a low breath. "All of you.”
—
It's not a surprise that one wine bottle turns into two and then it turns into three, and then it turns into Jay needing to get carried to the warmth of his bed by Jake and Sunghoon.
You’re unsure if you should really believe Jay when he says he can wake you up on time.
And because Jake is always sleepy, he stumbles onto the guestroom bed with very little resistance. Though Sunghoon was supposed to join him, he turns off the overhead light of the living room and sits still on the couch instead. He waits for you in his drunken bliss to come back from the bathroom.
Ice cream, ice cream…
Should he still offer to take you?
You stumble out, all buzzed and smiley. Until your eyes meet his. Now you're frowning all over again.
“You,” you say, wagging an accusing finger at him.
He tilts his head up to yours, one eye open, adjusting to the dim lighting.
“What?” he asks, more giggly than he means to sound. But he can't help it with how adorable you look, and you can't help how his teasing face makes your blood boil a little harder.
“Why'd you call me that earlier?”
His brows furrow.
“Call you what?”
“You know,” you press, now a bit more self-conscious. “That.”
Sunghoon shakes his head. Genuinely, he forgot. He can’t hold his liquor.
None of you can.
“Baby, you're gonna have to tell me directly—”
“THAT!” you scream, and Sunghoon brings his finger to his lips, signaling you to quiet down.
“You did it again!” You cry, ignoring his silent plea.
And it finally clicks to him then what you mean.
“Ahhhh,” Sunghoon breathes out in that low voice of his. “Baby…”
He sees you shudder, chewing the inside of your cheek. He can see it written all over your face. How affected you are.
“Stop it,” you gnaw, eyes darting away from him.
And the thing with Sunghoon is that he gets braver with alcohol, but he doesn't get any less infuriating. He reaches a hand out, fingers barely dancing around your wrist. He looks up again, gauging your reaction, eyes low and dark.
“Didn't like it?”
He continues to hover.
You shake your head.
“Words,” he mumbles lowly. “Try using them.”
And you don't know why the condescension in his tone knocks the wind out of your lungs.
“I-it’s not that—” you stumble, unsure if the man sitting in front of you was the same Sunghoon you’ve been irritated by for years. He doesn’t realize how hard it is for you to get a word out when his hand starts ghosting its way up your forearm. “It's just…”
His index finger treads lightly on the goosebumps of your skin.
“Why?” you ask again.
His gaze wanders down the softness of your body. Just a simple white shirt and gray shorts. So casual compared to the get-up he has on.
“Because…” He trails off, unable to form a coherent thought. “...Because you are, aren't you?”
His hand wraps around your arm, tugging you onto the taut expanse of his thighs. Sunghoon’s other hand hooks your chin, facing you toward him. Quicker than when you put him in a headlock.
His lips ghost over yours, on the precipice of touching.
“A baby,” he mumbles, a small groan bubbling at the back of his throat. He leans in a little closer. A devilish smile adorns his face.
“My baby,” he adds cheekily.
Your mouth opens slightly, eyelids low as you nod against your better judgement. The haze of pinot noir and the feel of his cool touches get the best of you.
Good, he thinks to himself. He's had a change of heart. Sunghoon guesses that he actually does hate misunderstandings—especially if they’ve prevented him all this time from seeing this fucked out expression on your face.
“Hoon—” you whimper, feeling the growing tent of his length press against the underside of your thighs. His head falls slowly into the crook of your neck, burying into your hair as he inhales your scent deeply. So fucking sweet.
“Yeah, baby?” he mutters onto your skin, adjusting you on his lap so that your thighs encase his. Hours ago you were on this couch with Jake, showing him your bank account and giggling over your bad budgeting habits. Letting Sunghoon watch from the cuck chair in the corner of the room with barely any input.
That cloudy memory alone is all it takes for him to get riled up again.
Sunghoon's hands perch perfectly on your ass, giving an experimental squeeze.
“Fuck,” you groan, forehead meeting his. “I-I don't think this is a good idea.”
He pulls you in closer, eyes digging into yours.
Despite your protests, your fingers weave their way into his hair, giving him that sweet, sharp sting that he felt on his neck when you were prying off him earlier.
“What is?” he responds teasingly. He doesn’t realize how flushed he looks under you right now, cheeks red and hair tousled from your fingertips. Mouth parted with that canine of his peeking through.
You let out a small noise again when your hips grind down to meet his bulge. He feels big. Fuck he's probably really fucking big—
Your eyes roll back at the thought, pressing down on him a bit more. The rough texture of his pants provides an extra layer of ecstasy.
“We're both fucked up right now, Hoon. I—” Grind. “God—” Lift. “Don't think—” Down. “We should—” Press.
“Mmm,” he hums back, unable to even respond as you continue your small nudges against his bulge. How could he when you were soaking up his jeans? Just so fucking wet.
“It's okay, baby,” he mumbles, the soft grip on your ass doing very little with how frantic your thrusts against him were getting. “Stop whenever you want to.”
And to think, he was going to make up for all the harsh words and misplaced anger with ice cream. Screw that waffle cone.
This was so much sweeter.
“I was too mean today, right?” he mutters into your ear, lips pressing against the shell. “You were gonna give me the silent treatment, hm?”
You groan in frustration. Why even now was he making fun of you and letting you do all the work? Why is he always so god damn annoying?
But it's like you couldn't stop. Because stronger than the alcohol was the desire to feel him.
Just as much as Sunghoon liked to be misunderstood, you liked to overthink. In the many years that you’d known him, you took the teasing and bickering as markers of incompatibility.
You always felt like the men you knew usually treat the girls they like with an air of fragility. When Jay likes a girl, he’s shy and gentle, the type of guy to bring flowers to each subsequent date. Jake gets all clingy, starts hobbies he never liked before just so a girl with the same ones could like him back.
And Sunghoon… Has he ever really liked anybody?
You fought so much; you were sure he didn’t like you at all. Just tolerated you because you grew up together.
You convinced yourself that he probably preferred someone sweeter, more docile. Cute and quiet who can match his sometimes aloof energy. Not like you now.
Frantic. Desperate. Not even able to suppress that desire the same way you’ve tried for the past few years. Yes, you have feelings for him. And you never thought that he could ever feel the same way back. Or at least lust for you the same way back.
Your unfiltered desire only grows as your clit continues to rub against the sweet fabric of your shorts, against the sweet rigidity of his hard-on.
And though you keep blabbering all dumb about how bad of a fucking idea this is, you couldn't help but keep rocking desperately against him.
Needy.
So fucking needy.
If Sunghoon were more open, he'd have blurted out how much he fucking loves you right then and there. But he figures it would be a lot more romantic when he actually asks you out.
Right now, it was about his carnal desires. Pent up after years of longing, after years of sharing your attention with two stupid boys who could never get the hint. That it should just be Sunghoon and you forever.
That it should just be you fucking yourself onto Sunghoon without interruption until the end of time.
You tilt his head up, forcing him to meet your gaze once more. And you bring your face closer and closer as your hips jut forward faster and faster.
“C-can I kiss you?” you ask, words fumbling. It comes out so pathetically that you almost wake up from your drunken daze. But it only pulls Sunghoon in closer.
He nods along, unable to form any words through the crazed thoughts swimming through his head.
You never needed to ask, he thinks to himself. You could do it whenever you want, whenever you liked. If you really wanted, his mouth could be just as much yours as it is his.
You smash your wine-stained lips against his with little decorum, mouths squelching against each other at a feverish pace.
It's disgusting, how he sucks your tongue into his parted lips, how saliva drips down between the two of you and onto the teal fabric of his tank top. So fucking disgusting that you tug him even closer, suffocating yourselves from the lack of oxygen.
Your hands leave his hair, gripping his pale biceps as Sunghoon starts to bounce you on his covered cock.
Finally!
Finally he's helping.
You love the way he devours you whole, how his hips come up to roll against your ruined shorts.
Never in a million years did Sunghoon think that he'd get this far.
He assumed he'd die with these feelings for you forever, given how scared he was to ruin a friendship built with two others involved. But it didn't matter now, with you screaming into his mouth, your feet planted on the couch to give you a much better angle against him.
“More,” you whimper, a wad of saliva connecting the two of you. “Fuck, I want more—”
A boyish grin tinges Sunghoon’s reddened face.
“I thought this was a bad idea?” he slurs, the grip on your bum now teetering dangerously close to your waistband.
“Shut up,” you grumble, diving back into his smart mouth. You tug at his belt, his jeans, and then his boxers. Impatient.
Just enough for his dick to be let free, for it to slap against his clothed abdomen. He pulls back, mouth falling open as his hand comes up to your waist.
“Look,” he whispers, forehead pressing against yours once more to guide your eyes to your laps.
His cock, standing tall and weeping with pre-cum. Your shorts, damp and sticking to your labia like glue.
“Unhygienic,” he mumbles airily, laughing to himself at how pissed Jay would be now if he knew how badly you two were about to soil the couch.
You nod in agreement, hand shakily grabbing his thickness.
Big and girthy. Meaty like the rest of him.
God, he'd be perfect if he wasn't so fucking rude all the time—
“Ah—” Sunghoong groans, thumb finding the outline of your engorged clit at the center of your shorts. He's returning the favor as the pad of his finger circles deliciously on your clothed bud of nerves.
Your mouth falls open from both the pleasure and the sight, unable to look away as his dick leaks out a little more. You couldn't resist it, your left hand coming up to meet your right.
You stroke him up and down, collecting his liquid as it dribbles out. Still, there was more of him that your fingers couldn't reach.
"Ngh—”
His deep grunts are like music to your ears. Messy.
Even messier than you.
But maybe you speak too soon. Because his thumb finds its way underneath your tight pair of shorts. Underneath the soaked granny panties you wear when there's no one to impress.
Skin on skin, it's euphoric to feel his fingers instead of having to just imagine them. He brings his index finger down to drag against your folds. And you find some sense to mask your hungry moan with his plump lips. You gnaw at him, your pace on his cock quickening as he slides a digit in.
And then another.
It's easy when you get this wet for him.
He pistons into you, tongue lapping at the roof of your mouth, his other hand moving up to palm at your clothed tit.
BANG.
“FUCK I NEED TO PISS—”
You two hear the loud bang of a door opening, and Sunghoon, with the reflexes of a superhero, drags you down to lie on the couch with him.
It takes everything in you not to scream as his palm comes up to cover your mouth, fingers digging deeper into your tight crevice from the sudden movement.
“Fuck,” Sunghoon whispers, nipping the lobe of your ear to soothe himself.
Your back is against his chest, his legs encasing yours as Jake trots past the darkness of the living room and into the bathroom. The two of you are holding your breath, a tear forming at the corner of your eye; the ache of his two fingers prodding you open was getting the best of you.
Sunghoon releases the palm over your mouth, instead guiding it to your chin to look back at him. His digits give a slight push inside you.
“Mmph—” you suppress your moans, biting your lip so hard, you think it could draw blood.
“Hm?” Sunghoon smiles against your skin. “What's wrong?”
“Hoon—” you mewl, his fingers curling up as his palm grinds against your clit. “H-he might hear—”
God, don't ever mention another 'he' again unless it's him.
“Then be quiet,” Sunghoon interrupts meanly, mouthing against your cheek and peppering kisses by your ear.
It's impossible, you think to yourself, when he starts to pump his fingers in and out. Rubbing the sweet sponginess you usually can't reach with just your fingers alone.
Fuck.
He's big everywhere.
“Please, Hoon,” you cry, not quite sure what you're begging for. “Jake's gonna see—”
And Sunghoon's eyes could rival that of a black hole with how dark they get.
If Sunghoon were a more open man, he'd stop working himself up out of pure jealousy. But alas, he's very much a closed-off individual.
“Should we show him?” he mumbles, nipping the underside of your jaw. “Should Jake see how good I make you feel?”
And though your gummy walls flutter around his unforgiving pace just a little more from the suggestion, you shake your head furiously.
“Noooo,” you whine shamelessly, a third finger of his pushing inside of your drenched warmth. “You—Fuck— I only want you.”
And Sunghoon's heart blooms with pride. All the envy, all the unnecessary resentment he had against his friends. It didn't matter in that split second.
You choose him. You want him. And even though it's physical for now. He'll make sure he can fuck you good enough for it to be romantic too.
“Right answer,” he says, catching your lips again. He shimmies your panties off from behind, and you shudder as the underside of his cock meets the snug crevice of your ass.
You hear the flush of the toilet go off, but it doesn't stop Sunghoon from sliding his cock under and forward, his mushroom tip coming up to meet your clit. Your mouth falls open in an empty scream.
“I'm never drinking again,” you hear Jake mutter to himself.
Sunghoon softens his breath, having some decency to maintain a bit of privacy. With you both on your side, it allows the plushness of your thighs to envelop his thick cock. Some part of it still poking through.
If Jake paid attention a little better, he could probably hear the sloppy noises of Sunghoon's length sliding against your puffy folds.
Sunghoon mouths at your throat, trying his hardest to keep his noises to a minimum. But still, he drags his thickness in between the valley of your soft middle. Thrusting and praying that Jake can just find his way back into the fucking guestroom so he can finally be engulfed in your sticky warmth.
But no. As stated before, his friend is a fucking dumbass.
You two hear dry heaving, and there Jake goes again, back into the bathroom to cleanse his guts out.
You're crying full-blown tears from frustration, ears burning up with embarrassment. Would it be too much if you asked Sunghoon to just stick it in?
“H-Hoon?” you mutter, as he kisses away the tears. Salty. Just how he likes you. “I wanna cum…”
He nods along in desperate agreement.
“Me too baby…”
He thrusts a little harder, his hand going underneath your shirt to palm at your breasts, rubbing your nipples in soothing circles. He hopes it can give you some relief.
“I wish he could just hurry the fuck up—”
His complaints are interrupted by your slight squeak. Just then, you felt his fat tip almost enter your suctioning walls. And it was the best sensation you've felt on your body since you first discovered masturbation.
Fuck it. You can just say it was the alcohol tomorrow. You need it. You need him so, so bad.
“Please,” you cry, fingernails digging into his tense forearm. You spread yourself open, legs in a sideways butterfly position. Your eyes turn around to look at his. “Please, Hoon?”
He groans, low and guttural. His fingers come down to meet your clit, doing figure-8s on it like that's what you asked for.
“N-noooo,” you whine. And you bring your hand down to his engorged cock, still sputtering out milky white all over your outer folds. In his confusion, you take the initiative for him.
“H-here,” you murmur out as you arch your back, guiding the bulbous head into your plushness.
Oh. Fuck, he should have taken the hint.
Sunghoon buries his head into the junction of your neck again, moaning loudly as he sinks right into you with so little resistance.
He pushes forward, arms finding the inside of your thigh to hold you open a little more. Your heat is so inviting, sucking him into your wet cavern like you were afraid to lose him.
God, he loves his childhood friend so fucking much.
Inch by inch, the stretch is everything you could have asked for. You feel every vein, every damn ridge of him.
And your mouth goes agape when the underside of his cock drags against your G-spot so deliciously.
“OH MY—”
God. You were really in love with Park Sunghoon.
He shuts you up with a kiss, fully sheathing himself into your fluttering hole. He drowns your moans out with his tongue, holding you so wide open that it starts to feel like yoga.
Sunghoon pulls away from your face, a mischievous glint now in his eyes. The same eyes that are half-closed with lust and intoxication.
“Sounding like a slut now, baby,” he coos into your ear, and your eyes widen with a tinge of hurt.
Ouch. What an awful word.
“My dumb fucking slut.”
Oh.
Never mind, you've soaked yourself more.
“Y-yeah,” you play along, sniffling at his cruelty. “Just for you—”
“Say it then,” Sunghoon coaxes. “Say what you are to me.”
He thrusts even rougher toward you, groaning as he feels you clench around him in a vice grip.
“Y-yours,” you mutter, hand coming up to tug at his hair. “...‘m yours…”
Sunghoon nips at your neck, clicking his tongue. It's endearing, but not quite what he asked for.
“No.” He glowers. “Tell me what you are.”
He gives a hard thrust, digging deep rather than going fast. You whine, trying to gain relief by pushing your bottom back into him, but it's no use. Sunghoon has you locked tight against his hardened body.
“I'm a slut—” you try out before you hear him scoff.
Sunghoon's arm wraps around your neck, his right hand reaching your left shoulder. He tugs you close and leans in closer and whispers even lower.
“Not good enough…”
“Ngh—” you moan into his bicep, drool pooling at the junction of his elbow. “I-I'm your slut, Hoonie…”
Still not quite what he was looking for.
He pushes his left leg up into a triangle shape, matching your positioning and pumps once more. He winces, not realizing how badly he was edging himself too with all this fucking teasing.
But again. He's addicted to the attention you give him. He just needs more of it.
“Try again, baby,” he pulls you in closer, muffling some parts of your moans with his muscles. “Or you won't get to cum tonight.”
You weep, lapping at his bicep as if pleading.
It's a kink. It has to be. This is why he always makes fun of you. To get this reaction. To make you beg at your wits' end.
But God, you weren't above making a fool of yourself.
“Pleaseeeee—” you cry. “Fuck me, please! I'm your dumb fucking slut, and I want to cum so fucking bad, please, please, plea—”
Yeah, screw Jake.
Sunghoon's grip on your thigh is tight, bullying into you with very little thought to how drenched the sounds of his penetrations sound in Jay's living room.
Sunghoon pushes his bicep closer to your mouth, an invitation for you to chomp down. And you do. Hard enough that he hisses out in pain. But he loves that feeling too.
The same goes for you. Everything that would usually hurt suddenly feels really good with him. Sunghoon has managed to dissolve you into a desperate little mess, your ass ricocheting as it meets his jackhammering thrusts from behind.
Rough and mean. Like how Sunghoon is all the time. Sucking and lapping at his arm, alcohol breaths radiating off of you both. You turn around to kiss him, your teeth clashing as your thrusts get more desperate.
Plap. Plap. Plap.
And as his words get more reckless.
“Feel so fucking good, baby,” he mumbles in between the sloppy kisses. “So fucking wet for me, huh?”
“S-so big,” you babble back. “I can feel you in my fucking stomach, Hoonie—”
“Yeah?” he mutters, thrusting hard and fast into your puffy folds. “Perfect fit, huh? Want me to fill you all up?”
“Yes, come inside me, please—”
He brings his arm down, both hands meeting your bouncing breasts. Your nipple twisting between his fingers, not even bothering to muffle your screams.
His sopping tip kisses your cervix, the stretch so delicious that you're thrashing against him. So close. So fucking close.
“YES—”
In.
“Right there Hoonie—”
He drags his thick cock out.
“NGH—”
And he pummels back into your puffy pussy again and again and again.
“Oh my god right fucking there!”
It's so pathetic, so pornographic that he laughs against your hair.
Sunghoon's ego has never been bigger. The love of his life, going dumb on his cock.
He's blessed. He's more than blessed.
“I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna—HNGH—”
No, he's gonna fucking cum.
“Me too,” he grunts, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He brings your leg up higher now, testing your flexibility as the inside of his elbow holds up the backside of your knee.
And if Sunghoon were an open man, he'd say that side shots have become his favorite sex position ever. Just because of you. Because he gets to be greedy.
He gets to see both your tits and your ass bounce at the same time. Gets to kiss you from behind and not have your beautiful noises muffled by a stupid pillow. He gets to have it all where he's positioned flush by your side.
Yes, if he were an open man, he would vocalize his feelings well. But Sunghoon is an actions speak louder than words kind of guy.
And what was more actionable than unloading all his undying adoration into you?
“Here, baby—” He grunts, mind blank with ecstasy. “Take it—”
And with a final, heavy thrust, Sunghoon's white paint coats your gummy walls.
“HOON—” you warble, a sea of tears barreling down as you convulse from your own orgasm. Your walls massage his dick, draining him of all he is. Of all he wanted to give you.
Sunghoon shakes with you, deep whimpering at the overstimulation. But he can't pull out, even with his cock softening and slick with the soppiness of your cunt.
He loves it here. Could never leave. He could die buried deep in your pussy he swears.
And it's like cumming completely sober the both of you up, only the deep paintings of your breaths resounded in the room.
Sticky. You feel so fucking sticky. You need a shower bad. Maybe even two—
“I love you,” he says, interrupting your unrelated thoughts.
Sunghoon caves despite the uncertainty that floods his heart. He can blame the alcohol tomorrow if you reject him right now.
When you don't say anything back, and the beating in his chest feels too suffocating, he lifts his head to meet your eyes.
Fuck. You were actually crying. He thought it was from overstimulation or sexual frustration. But you were genuinely sobbing right now.
“A-are you okay?” He asks, wincing as he pulls away. Your shared fluids spill out of you, and you both groan as your shared cream drips onto the similarly colored cream couch. Still definitely leaving a stain.
“You love me?” you mutter, bottom lip trembling. He gulps.
Open. He needs to be open.
“I love you,” he repeats, more confidently. And this time, he doesn't let the words linger in the air. “I'm sorry, I should have told you before we did all this but—”
“Then why the fuck would you call me a slut?!”
He balked.
Oh.
Fuck, he always does go too far, doesn't he?
“No, baby, no…” He mumbles apologetically. “I'm sorry…”
Sunghoon peppers kisses on the tear stains that fall on your cheek. “It was just in the heat of the moment. I don’t think you're a slut—”
“No, you think I'm a dumb fucking slu—”
“Nooooo,” he drags out in reassurance. “I just thought it was… you know…”
See, this is why he doesn't like talking.
“I thought it was hot to say, okay?! I'm sorry, I won't ever call you that again—”
You stop your sobbing so abruptly he wonders if you were really crying in the first place.
“Well,” you hiccup. “I didn't say all thaaaat…”
He chuckles nervously, sighing out in relief before turning you around to face him. Thank God, you're not upset with him. He thought it was over before it even began.
Sunghoon smacks kisses on your nose and rubs his own against yours.
“So... did you like it?” he asked shyly. He rarely ever gets this flustered.
“Mm,” you hum positively. “I did. But I think you liked it wayyy more.”
Sunghoon chuckles, smiling against your skin. “What are you implying?”
“I'm implying that you probably have a degradation thing going on,” you mumble more to yourself. “Which explains why you act like an asshole sometimes. But you also like it when I'm mean to you, so maybe you're a mix of both dominant and submis—”
He kisses you, more so to shut you up. And he only pulls away when he feels his heart calm down.
“I act like an asshole when I want your attention,” he whispers, feeling a weight lift off his chest. Maybe he should speak his mind more often.
“Like earlier today," his lips smack. "...You barely talked to me.”
You furrow your brows, confused as hell.
“I was talking to Jake!”
“Well,” Sunghoon falters. “...Why didn't you try talking to me?”
You scoff. “I don't know, you seemed out of it…”
Your eyes narrow in suspicion.
“Wait…” you smile naughtily. “Are you jealous of Jake?!”
Sunghoon scowls. God, just Jake's name on your tongue sounded so fucking wrong to him.
“I’m dead,” you cackle, hitting him on his clothed chest. “Why are you jealous of Jake? He's like a brother to me!”
Sunghoon raises an accusatory brow. “You've literally said that about me like a hundred times. Look where we are.”
Oh. Right…
“Yeahhh,” you say, wrapping your arms around him closer. “But sometimes I lie, y'know? Can't let our model get too cocky, can I?”
Sunghoon's heart still feels heavy, though.
“So Jake and Jay are just friends, right?” he asks hesitantly. Fuck it, he needs to know. Even if he doesn't like the answer.
“I would never do this with them,” you say as sincerely as you can. “Especially since they are my brothers.”
Sunghoon lets a chuckle roll off his tongue at your silly joke. He wraps his arms around your waist.
“Don't think of calling me anything other than your boyfriend or husband, okay?” he says lowly, leaning in close. “Or I might make you cry even harder next time…’
Blood rushes to your ears. You click your tongue at him, trying to hide how shy he makes you feel. What losers, the both of you.
“Okay fineeee,” you relent. “Love you too, Hoonie~”
He heaves a deep sigh of relief.
“Good,” he mumbles, suppressing the wide ass grin on his face. “Now, you think you'd feel me in your stomach even better in this position or—”
“OH HELL NO—”
And that's the last thing you see before Jay turns the lights on to throw a pillow at both of you.
–
morning after.
“You two are so nasty,” Jake grimaces as he walks out of the bathroom. He slept on the tiles for the whole night, unable to muster up the courage to walk out into the living room and witness the weird noises he was hearing from the other side.
You two were at the dining table, eating eggs for breakfast. It's a miracle Jay didn't kick either of you out. He could, in fact, wake you up in time for work. You were sorry for ever doubting him.
Jake drones on despite your thoughts. “How could you let me yak myself to sleep while you two go at it like rabbits?!”
Your cheeks warm up with shame. How loud were you two really?
“I sent you two the link,” Jay says from the kitchen counter, clearly still irked. “The most expensive couch I can find. Fuck you two, seriously. I can't believe you did that on real genuine velvet.”
And Sunghoon couldn't help but smile.
That couch wasn't the only thing that felt velvet last night.
“Okay, we're really sorry,” you mutter. “We were both drunk as fuck last night. We promise it won't happen again.”
You promised. Not Sunghoon. He still had plans to make it happen later.
“You should be grateful, Jay,” his grandpa-like voice chimes in. “That's the most action this apartment has gotten since you've moved in.”
And Jay needs both Jake and you to hold him back from pouncing on your stoic boyfriend. But that's the thing about Sunghoon.
He loves to be misunderstood.
A/N: so did we like it? did we love it? i’ve been very sunghoon-pilled recently… he’s a very gorgeous man. let me know what you all think #pervertnation
and i know a lot of you are wondering about the jungwon fic. i’m sorry to disappoint, i really do have a draft of it. i just can’t bring myself to release it knowing that i’m not satisfied with what i wrote. the headspace i was in when i first started writing stray kitty is so different to where i’m now. i lowkey have been going through it this year and i’m just glad i was able to even find enough inspiration to write this fic out. so, you might have to wait a little longer for the jungwon fic, but i just really wanted to release something to get back into the rhythm of writing and to interact with you all <3
Summary : after living with jake for a while, you picked up on his nerdiness, never thinking anything other than “he’s so innocent” but after walking in on him you find out he’s anything but.
Content : 18+ (MDNI) sub!jake x dom!reader, dry humping, making out, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex (wrap ur wiener!), whiny jake, begging, hair pulling, masturbation, teasing (idk what else T-T)
W.C: 2.2k
A/N: first of all THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 1K FOLLOWERS?! like helloooo i’ve been so inactive on tumblr that i didn’t even realize :(( i’m seriously so grateful I LOVE U <3 but guys it’s literally 3am and i NEED whiny jake bro, he’s been bias wrecking SO. fucking bad that i needed to write something about it sdfgosghoosjh;kfsn (if you enjoyed like, reblog and comment!)
for as long as you can remember your roommate jake was a nerd. a big one. he had shelves filled with legos of all sorts – spaceships, castles, you name it. his desk was cluttered with textbooks of all kinds (especially physics). when you first moved in he greeted you at the door with a big giddy smile, glasses slipping down his nose before he pushed them up with his index finger, he was cute really. when you looked at jake you could never imagine him not being innocent, i mean how could you?
that was until last week.
you had gotten home late from your shift at the cafe so you were cautious when entering the house, turning the lock ever so carefully and shutting the door softly behind you. the apartment was dark except for the dim moonlight filtering in through the edges of the shades that jake probably forgot to close all the way. you walk quietly down the hallway about to go to your room when something caught your attention, soft whimpers coming from jakes room. you had assumed he was having a nightmare so just to be safe you went to check up on him.
his door was slightly ajar, revealing jakes flushed face as he pleasured himself. your eyes widen as you take in the scene. his hand moved steadily over his cock at a fast pace, his head thrown back. his abs clenching at every down stroke he made while he whimpered. you felt your face turn beet red, a familiar heat blooming between your thighs as you watched. you should feel ashamed really, watching him jerk off, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. the way his glasses were falling down his nose and those beautiful sounds were coming out of his lips made it impossible to.
then,
“fuck, y/n..” he whimpered
your breath hitched, and in that moment jake heard it. his face turned an even deeper red as he scrambled to pull the covers over his lap, burning with embarrassment. “
“i-i’m so sorry i didn’t know you were home i–” jake rambled, you mutter a quick ‘its okay’ and rush to your room, safe to say your fingers were busy that night. your mind replayed the way his head cocked back as he stroked and whimpered your name.
every day after the incident jake avoided you like the plague, but you? you were the opposite. every time you were in the same room you’d purposely brush against him just to see him stiffen and walk away, probably to the bathroom to take care of himself. you wore skimpy pjs on purpose just to actively see his cock get hard while he tried to hide it with his hands even though it was just too big to ignore.
which brings you to this week, where a shy jake was sitting at the opposite end of the couch, looking at his fidgeting hands in his lap. his mouth opened and closed, trying to find the right words to start off with his apology.
“Y/n i’m really sorry..” he says quietly, almost timidly. “i was just really worked up that night and i don’t know why i said it i’m just really sorry i–”
“i don’t mind” you cut him off.
his eyes widened slightly, was this a set up?
“what do you mean? no.. y/n that was completely out of character for me i’m just-”
“jake, if you want me to be honest? it was hot” you admit, it was kind of fun seeing him all flustered, after seeing him get so embarrassed the other night you decided it’d be fun seeing it again, he was the one moaning your name after all.
“y/n” he said quietly. you looked down at his lap and saw the growing erection under his sweatpants which he so desperately tried to hide with his hands.
“aw.. poor jakey, you’re already hard just from me talking?” you coo mockingly. sure before this you had never thought of jake as more than just a cute nerd, but now that you’ve seen more? it was hard to ever go back, i mean he was attractive. not just average – like really attractive.
“i could help you with that” you flash him a teasing smile, watching him crumble under your gaze. he nodded shyly, but that won’t do will it?
“say it.”
“y-yes please, y/n..” he almost whined. you moved closer until you were able to swing your leg over his hips and straddle him. you felt the length of his hard cock pressed right on to your aching pussy, his hips grinded upward at the weight of you in his lap, trying to relieve the pressure of his erection. you could almost laugh at how desperate he was being.
“so impatient jakey..” you tease, your hand finds its way to his jaw, tilting his head up to look at you before bringing your lips to meet his. it was desperate and sloppy, your lips moving eagerly against eachother as you rocked your hips back and forth over his hardness, jake let out a groan as when you started moving. when his mouth opened you took the opportunity and your tongue slipped past his lips. a visible wet patch begins to form on his grey sweatpants more and more with each rock, unsure whether it was him or you who was making the patch grow bigger.
“mmh.. fuck y/n” he breathed out as he pulled back for air, he looked ruined and you hadn’t even started yet. his glasses were all fogged up and tilted, his lips more plump and red.
“i need to feel you please.. please can i touch” his brows furrowed while his hands hovered over the hem of your tank top. your nod was all he needed before he clumsily lifted it over your head, of course you were wearing no bra. his hands slid up the smoothness of your stomach before cupping your breasts almost unsure. he squeezed and kneaded until he leaned forward and took a nipple between his lips. you gasped as you arched into his mouth. he sat there for a good minute, sucking and flicking his tongue over the hardened peak before switching to the other one, giving it the same treatment.
after a few minutes, he moved to lay you back on the cushions, looking unsure of what to do next. your hands hook into the waistband of your shorts and panties, dragging them down your legs teasingly. he sat there in awe, taking in your bare body thats laid out so prettily in front of him.
“y/n i’ve never.. i’ve never went down on someone” he says almost shyly.
“it’s okay, i’ll tell you what feels good.” you smile as you spread your legs while he settled between them. he hooked your legs over his shoulders and pressed an almost hesitant kiss over your dripping core. he licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit, making your hips shift slightly. as he gained more confidence he found a rhythm that had you moaning and gripping his hair. the lewd sounds of him slurping you up filled the living room, his tongue circled your clit over and over until he flattened it, going side to side. you were about to guide him until his tongue dragged down to your leaking entrance, pushing inside.
“oh f-fuck.. just like that” you moaned. “you’re doing so good jake..”
“mmph..” jake moaned loudly at the praise, like he was the one getting pleasured. as he continued eating you out his hips rutted against the couch, he might just cum from this.
“i’m so close.. s-shit”
as you neared your peak, his lips sealed over your bud, sucking it in. your back bowed off the couch as you came on his tongue, hips bucking against his face as you rode it out. jake felt warm spurts of his own release ruining his boxers while he drank in every drop of your release.
when you came down and he sat back up you saw the stain on his grey sweatpants and the look in his eyes, like he couldn’t wait for what came next.
you sat up and pushed him to sit back against the cushions, you helped him out of his sweatpants and his soiled boxers, tossing it somewhere in the living room. you straddled his hips this time, with no barriers. when your bare pussy made contact with him, his cock twitched and jumped. you started rocking back and forth again, looking him in his glazed over eyes while you grinded, the sounds of your slick each pass made nasty wet sounds, but it made you even wetter.
“y/n i need to be in you.. ride me? please...” he whined pathetically, you moaned softly as his tip brushed your clit each time. you decided it was enough teasing, and he was being good enough.
“such pretty begging.. you really want your cock in me?” you cooed, he nodded his head desperately.
“beg for it”
“please.. m’so hard, i need to be inside you, pleasepleaseplease–” he begged.
“such a good boy begging.. i guess i can ride you” you smirk teasingly before grabbing his cock and lining it up with your entrance. you make eye contact with him as you slowly sink down, inch by torturous inch on his girthy cock. the feeling of being fully seated made you both moan loudly. you felt so full, his cock twitched helplessly inside you.
“oh god.. y/n, mngh..” he moaned, his head thrown back as his hands find your hips, trying to find something to ground himself. the feeling of you wrapping around him so tightly was his personal heaven. each time he touched himself to the thought of you he’d never think it’d actually happen.
when you started to move it was only grinding circles, his tip kissing the perfect spot inside of you each roll of your hips. low moans spilled from his lips – but the real show was when you started bouncing up and down on him, he really lost it. loud and high pitched whimpers filled your ears as you rode him, his eyes locked onto the sight of him disappearing inside of you repeatedly.
“y/n shit! you’re so- hah.. tight”
you planted your hands behind you on his thighs for leverage as you kept lifting and dropping, his hands stayed at your waist gently guiding you but letting you keep control mostly. you watched the sight of him so fucked out in front of you like it was the best think you’ve ever seen. his glasses askew, his cheeks dusted pink and abs clenching while his eyes rolled back.
“so dirty.. touching yourself to me when you could’ve just asked hm?” you tease.
“i’m sorry.. i’ll ask next time, please ungh.. faster?” he whined so sweetly, so needy. how could you say no?
you picked up the pace even as your legs burn and shook, at this point he was babbling complete nonsense, filling the airs with a bunch of pleas and moans. he felt the all too familiar feeling building up as he kept watching you ride. at some point his glasses fell onto the couch beside you, forgotten for now.
“fuck it’s so deep.. mmh!” you moaned shamelessly. each bounce pushed you closer and closer with him to the edge, you kept a steady pace until you see the glasses, slowing down.
“nonono please why’d you..” his words died down as he watched you place his glasses on your face, a bit big, so much so that they slide to the tip of your nose. everything in his mind went blank except for you.. wearing his glasses.
suddenly, he planted his feet firmly on the floor, his hands firmly gripping your hips as he started to drill into you from below, fucking you like a man possessed. the air was knocked out of your lungs as he reached unfamiliar places, making your body shake.
“jake oh my– fuck!” you squealed, trying to grip something, anything. “don’t stop im gonna.. im gonna cum”
“m’gonna cum too.. oh my g-god y/n” he let out a sound, something between a moan and a whimper.
he pumped into you once, twice, before his legs shook and he shot ropes of cum inside of you, triggering your own release. you clenched hard around his cock, milking him. his release dripped from your hole all the way down his length.
you slumped against him as the two of you came down, his arms wrapped tightly around you. when you both caught your breath you sat up, placing his glasses back on his face. he smiled that same sweet smile from when he first met you, seemingly contagious as well.
“i didn’t know you had that in you, sim” you giggled softly, the sound making his smile grow impossibly wider.
“don’t wear my glasses next time like that.. i won’t be able to think straight” he let out a breathless laugh.
you both end up tangled on the couch with no worries of tomorrow, just the thought of knowing this won’t be the last time.
yn who gets eaten while she’s on her period? c: by sunghoon or jake c:
SUNGHOONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN
contains: dom sunghoon x sub reader, reader is on her period, period cunnilingus, sunghoon has a blood kink, idk this is sorta gross lol, lmk if i missed anything ^^
hoonie getting you all comfortable throughout the day, getting you chocolates and ice cream and food and cuddling up with you while letting you use him as a weighted blanket with a heating pad on your lower tummy... all so that at night, he can help you better.
"it's ok, i promise this will help," as his face is in between your thighs and arms hooking you in place. you're not very sure about it, because you're too insecure about letting him see, let alone taste you, like this. but he just REALLY wants this.
it starts with him sucking on your clit, that he can tell is more sensitive than usual. the taste of your blood is immediately on his tongue, a moan coming out of his throat because of it. it's sensual and embarrassingly so, and you whine at him because how could he find this remotely tasty?
he doesn't stop though, only going on further and further, sucking harder while his tongue travels between your folds, collecting your mixed essence as he gulps down needily. one could think he was starving for this even, genuinely too into your blood for his own good.
your hands tangle in his head, messing up his hairstyle which was already getting messy with sweat, honing in on making you as wet as he could so he could taste you for as long as he could. good thing that being on your period is like being a well that doesn't dry... you just stay wet because of your endless bleeding. nothing stopped him, not even your thighs choking him while you grinded into his face nor the clots that he just swallowed right down, only moaning more needily while his hands gripped you even tighter, bound to leaving handprints that he would love to stay on you all day every day.
every drop of blood that went down his throat made him even more needy as the only thing he could focus on was the way you tasted. it's just blood, getting a rosy pink with your cum as you came and came, so sensitive to the point that you were shaking as you pleaded him to give you a break. but he didn't want to stop! at least not yet. but not soon, that's for sure !
summary: jake had a tough day at work — everyone has their ways of winding down, but jake’s preferred way of relaxing is… interesting. (see request here)
word count: 5,779
content warnings: smutty smut smut, sub!jake, dom!reader, reader is afab with she/her pronouns, excuse me there’s plot in your porn, begging (a LOT of it), mama pet name (reader!receiving), handjob, crying (from excess pleasure), overstimulation, praise, a smidge of mirror sex (blink and you’ll miss it tbh), cum eating, hand around neck (not choking), cowgirl, jake’s souls leaves his body, aftercare (jake!receiving, reader!receiving)
author’s note: ngl i don’t think i like this?????????? this isn’t a work of art or wtv so my bad yall
taglist: none yet! please fill out request form to be added :)
It was the slam of the door that startled you.
You had recently taken to winding down for the day by taking up a book to read. It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy reading, but the common distractions in life often had you neglecting your hobby more than you would like to admit. So, naturally, you had to go out of your way to etch it into your schedule. Every evening, like clockwork, there was the click of the kettle. The light squeak of the kitchen cabinet protesting as you removed your mug of choice. The quiet ruffling of cardboard boxes holding all the tea bags you loved. the thick trickle of the boiling water filling the porcelain cup to capacity. The quiet thud of your hot mug dropped on your bedside table. It was a ritual that you commonly practiced, one that always preceded Jake’s arrival from work.
It was normal for you and Jake to text or call quite sporadically throughout his work day, him slipping away for a quick few minutes phone call or a short text prior to engagements. He didn’t have to, you made it clear to him numerously, but something didn’t quite sit right in his spirit if he didn’t make the effort to reach out to you in the midst of his hectic schedules. That day was no different — a brief text message conversation and a two minute phone call. However, it was different. His texts were shorter, more spaced out and disjointed than usual. His tone in the phone call was short and almost carried some air of irritability that you couldn’t pin point. Your boyfriend had mentioned in passing that it was one of those days, but you had no way of preparing yourself for just how tough his day was.
Jake usually made a habit of announcing himself as he let himself through the door; he had familiarised your reading habit and knew you were holed up in your shared bedroom — it was his attempt to not frighten you and let you know that he was not a burglar who happened to somehow have the key to your house. However, nothing more could be heard beyond the front door slamming shut. A frustrated huff that could be heard afterwards informed you that the door slam was not intentional. There was the shuffle of him slipping out of his outdoor shoes into the house slippers located at the front door, followed by heavy footsteps which grew closer and closer. Soon, your boyfriend’s body crossed the threshold of the doorway of your shared bedroom. “Hi baby,” you chirped, folding down the top folder of the page you were scanning and placing it on your bedside table. “Oh, hey love,” he murmured in response, offering you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. You eyed him carefully as he shrugged his bag off his shoulders and slung it to the corner of the room, as he actively endeavoured to forget about it for eternity. Your eyes squinted inquisitively, now knowing that your mind wasn’t running amok with thoughts of Jake’s inexplicable negativity. As he shrugged his jacket off his shoulders, you decided to go straight for it. “What’s wrong?”
As soon as you spoke, his movements paused for a brief second, as if he thought he was doing a better job at hiding his emotions than he truly was. Jake continued to shed his outer layer without saying a word, the silence so stretched and thick that you thought he had ignored you completely. He finally responded after what felt like an eternity of no response. “Work was… a lot,” he started carefully. He didn’t turn to hold your gaze like he usually did and instead turned towards the vanity that sat across from the bed, slowly removing the few rings that adorned his long, slender fingers. Spying his face through the reflection in the mirror, his eyebrows were furrowed in clear agitation, jaw working through whatever unspoken carnality he held in his chest. “It’s not even like something happened in particular, I just feel… tense. Like I haven’t been able to really rest. It’s getting to me now.” His voice was gentle, despite all the physical attributes to his subdued anger. When he realised he could no longer stall himself by undressing himself from his outdoor accessories, he finally turned to meet your eyes. His eyes were soft, always were, but tiredness flickered within his orbs. He raised a hand to run through his hair, revealing the dark grey underlayer of his locks. Your eyebrows knitted together with concern. This side to Jake was not foreign to you, but it wasn’t common either. You hated to see him so bothered, so stressed, and not being able to take it away instantaneously. You opened your mouth, ready to spew a slew of ways for him to get his well deserved rest, until he spoke those faithful words.
“I need to relax.”
His voice suddenly sounded so small, so vulnerable and his facial expression suddenly loosened. Your heart pounded in your ears and heat raised to your face as you allowed your body to slowly settle. Relax didn’t mean what it meant to most people between you and Jake; it was a code word. Relax meant that he wanted to relinquish control for a few hours, forget about his responsibilities temporarily and, most importantly, submit. You thought you were mistaken, analysing any clues to inform you of such, but Jake remained determined. He stood very still at the foot of the bed, forcing himself to maintain eye contact despite every nerve in his body demanding to reject it. With a slow swallow, you took a deep breath through your nose and offered a slow blink. As arousal pooled in your most private place, what it took to position yourself where Jake needed you most took no effort at all. “You know what to do, don’t make me say it,” you drawled. Jake sharply took in a breath, as if to not have expected you to agree, but complied without a thought of hesitation.
As you slowly maneuvered your legs to hang off the side of the bed, the young man made his way in front of you. Your eyes never left his own as he sunk down, lower and lower, until his knees made contact with the floor below him. He fixed his eyes on you earnestly, eyes glossy with need for you. His lips glistened under the soft glow of the bedroom light in a dull manner from him licking his lips mere seconds ago. His venous hands remained on his clothed thighs, ever so trained and obedient. Your legs widened to accommodate his bigger frame while you leaned forward to caress your finger over his cheek. His internal battle was a quick and lost one — his eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into your warm touch, as if to be the one thing he had been searching for all his life. Your heart softened, wanting nothing more than to scoop him in your arms and cuddle the night away, but you knew you didn’t truly want that. You knew he didn’t need that the way you knew he needed you. “Sweet boy,” you whispered, taking him in from his delicate lashes, the dusty pink which colored his cheeks, the the similar pink of his lips. At the affectionate title, his eyes opened up once again, not unlike a dog being called to its owner. Despite the pang of arousal it sent straight to your core, your carefully placed expression meant that it was something that Jake would fail to read.
“Yes?” He whispered. In the state he was in, he was like a sponge, so ready to soak up any and all words that tumbled from your lips. The hand caressing his cheek quickly moved to grip his jaw, ensuring there was no opportunity to escape your gaze despite how tempted he was to. The grip on his jaw allowed you to feel his veins move under his skin as he gulped. “What do you want me to do to you?” you quipped. Asking him a question when he was far gone was always a treat — you could almost see his mind searching for the words to string together if you looked deep enough into his eyes. He gulped once again, before his lips parted. “Please, I want you to touch me,” his voice said weakly. It was then that one of the hands raised to smooth over your thigh, his touch still grounding despite your sweats that covered your legs. While you could earnestly say that it was a trick that worked on you, it didn’t mean that you weren’t displeased with his behavior. Your eyes dropped towards his veiny hands wrapped around your thigh, then slowly back up to his own. Paired with your expression of indifference, it was an unspoken interaction that held a dictionary’s worth of words. Almost immediately. Jake’s hand retracted and fell on his lap once again, eye contact finally broken as he stared down at his lap in clear shame. “I-I’m sorry, please baby, please,” Jake whimpered. Tongue in cheek, you were swayed. A single gesture for him to get up was all that he required.
He rose to his feet almost immediately, large hands clumsily curling around the hem of his t-shirt and pulling it over his head, exposing his lean figure. His torso exposed the efforts of his high intensity career, chest and stomach wound tight with toned outcome. Your eyes followed a particularly thick vein which protruded from his bicep as his shirt slid down his arm down to the floor by your feet. Your fingers made quick work of his belt which kept his dark slacks clung to his slim waist and soon it fell limply at his feet, prompting him to obediently step out of them. The sight of his boxers were not lost on you and you didn’t even think to pretend not to look. While he wasn't fully hard, the weight of the bulge was evidence of a man who was at least partially erect. If that didn’t inform you enough, a small, dark spot developing around the end of his bulge was evidence enough. Above you, Jake sucked in a sharp, shaky breath as his hands dutifully clasped behind his back. With a single finger, you curled your digit around the waistband of his boxers and pulled it down to his feet in one fell swoop. Jake, ever expressive but obediently silent, just barely stopped a tiny, strangled whine from escaping his throat. Though partially erect, the heaviness of his thick girth meant that his cock still somewhat hung between his thighs when released from its clothed cage. Saliva accumulated in your mouth immediately, but ever stoic, you remained appearing unaffected.
Then, you swung your feet back onto the mattress you were previously laying on and positioned your legs wide and far apart. The young man followed suit; carefully climbing on the bed and situating himself carefully between your legs and his bare, wide back pressed against your chest. From your position, you could see how his eyelashes fluttered, his pink mouth falling slightly ajar as if he failed to take in sufficient breath by breathing through his nose alone. You witnessed the moment that the hairs of his arms stood to attention the second your hand wrapped around his bicep, running your fingers over his skin while your other reached over to your bedside table to retrieve a bottle of lube. you had no doubt in your mind that the precum that Jake was producing and would go on to produce would be more than enough lubrication, however you were particular addicted to how much you could fuck Jake’s brains out with your hands alone — the slick provided by the lube never failed to make his brain dysfunctional. As his cock, still ever hardening, drooled onto his thigh with effort, you squeezed a generous amount of lube onto your palm before smoothing the substance over his girth. Though he tried to maintain the same resolve you held effortlessly, you could easily hear the way his breath hitched and his body immediately stilled.
Your hand wrapped around the base of his cock while your other hand took a firm hold of the rest of him, delicately spreading the lube over his length. “Tell me about your day,” you murmured. The hesitation from Jake informed you that it was the last thing he expected to hear out of your mouth given the context, but he would be stupid to not listen to you, not when your hand was so soft, so warm, gripping him just right. “U-Um,” he gulped, gathering all the words he could generate in that moment. “We had training for the choreography for the new - fuck - comeback, t-the snippet I played for you the other night,” he explained steadily yet breathily. His cock adequately slick, your fist started at a steady pace, stroking him with ease. His head lulled back against your shoulder as he released a small whimper, his length twitching and his tip still leaking into the crevices of your lithe knuckles. “Oh yeah, that sounded cool. I was thinking about what the choreography would look like in the shower this morning actually,” you hummed, tone level and passive as if they were sharing a conversation over coffee, not while you were effectively taking his soul with just the palm of your hand. As you responded, Jake let himself get lost in the sensation. You could tell he wasn’t truly connected to the chatter, and so you let him for some stretched seconds until you continued to speak. “What was the choreography like then?” you cooed, twisting your wrist expertly as your hand moved up and down. Jake whined lowly, his hands holding onto your knees. “It’s really fast and uh…” he trailed off as your pace quickened. The slickness of your fingers massaging his shaft filled the room with the lead sound, whir your eyes moved from his pulsating length to the man’s distant expression. He wasn’t far off drooling, you could tell. “Was it hard baby?” you urged him softly. “Yes! Yes,” he moaned.
Your pace slowed ever so slightly so the hand that gripped the base of his cock moved to his weeping tip instead. Your thumb pressed against the wet slit and moved the pad of your thumb back and forth, stimulating his most sensitive spot. Jake cried out and pathetically rutted against your hand, chasing a level of pleasure that you knew too well he would struggle to handle. Beads of sweat rolled in on themselves and ran down his face and onto his neck, where you carelessly flattened your tongue to lick it up and attach your lips. You started to suck and nip at the crook of his neck while humming in satisfaction. Jake was helpless at this point, heady and whimpering your name. “Please baby, please, please, pl-ease - oh my God,” he whined. His voice was beginning to crack with effort, and if you flicked your eyes up, the tears welling up in his eyes seemingly glittered under the room’s light. “Oh darling boy,” your voice softened after you detached from his neck. The spot bloomed a brilliant red, sure to bruise adequately as the evening grew. “What’re you begging for?”
The hand stimulating his tip dropped down to his balls and you took them in your hands, gently massaging them between your fingers while you set an unforgiving pace with your hand stroking his cock. He was rock hard at this point, tip wet and angry. Jake’s hand moved to the sheets underneath your bodies instead of your legs to grip them in between his fingers, knuckles whitened from the sheer strength behind his hands. Only further moans tumbled from his lips, your words clearly just passing through his ear canal uselessly. With a soft sigh, you immediately stopped your strokes in favor of simply gripping the base of his cock, the hand on his testicles favoring just simply laying on his twitching thighs. Jake’s eyes immediately snapped open in shock, a short gasp leaving his lips. “W-wait, why?” he mumbled in shock, his chest still heaving. “I said, what are you begging for?” you enunciated once again. The lightness in your tone was gone, replaced by the aloofness you had adopted prior. His eyes looked around wildly, as if to still be coming to terms with the sudden loss of stimulation. “‘S just a lot… just for you to keep going,” he explained with a quiet voice. You sighed silently and pressed a soft kiss against his rouge cheeks as your hand built up another pace. The hand on his thigh moved to similarly grip his angry dick, both hands now moving up and down. Almost immediately, his head lulled back against your shoulder as a deep groan left his throat.
Your eyes flicked upwards towards the vanity mirror across from the bed and you carefully spied Jake’s features. The sounds falling from him were devastating, but the sight was even better. His adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he attempted to swallow down saliva into his throat that was rapidly drying. Your bruising on his neck was apparent, tying the image of positive sin up nicely. “Oh, you’re so good for me Jakey,” you cooed. Your praise was sufficient enough to draw a broken whine from him, as if to be agreeing without saying such. Jake was shaking now, all over, while the little pathetic shreds of composure he had remaining was actively being destroyed. You could tell he was growing close. “S-so-so good, I’m so close- so close, I can’t hold it,” he whimpered loudly. Sure enough, his cock was beginning to twitch against your knuckles. On any other day, you wouldn’t have had a problem with asking him to hold it on account of the fact that he told you he couldn’t, but you weren’t that cruel — especially when he had such a tough day. “You wanna cum baby?” your voice softened. The only thing that could be heard in the room were the damn near disgusting slicks of your hands massaging his cock, his whines which were dangerously near to sobs and the shuffling of the bed covers beneath the two of you as his hips twitched and moved up to fuck himself more into your hands. “So bad, I-I’ll be so good, I pro-omise, please mama,” Jake moaned. As much as you’d like to say the unexpected pet name left you unaffected, the throb in your sopping core informed otherwise. However, you put up a good front; simply humming in response to his words and continuing your pace despite your wrists beginning to ache in a dull manner. You took a long minute to respond, despite the pitiable pleases and fucks that tumbled from his lips. You enjoyed when he was this far gone, at the mercy of your words and your fingers. While his cock twitched angrily in your grip, you leaned close to his ear while fixing your eyes on the mirror across from the bed belonging to the vanity table. “You better look at how pretty you look in the mirror while you cum for me,” you instructed gently. Ever obedient, Jake forced his watery eyes open and fixated on the mirror to the best of his ability, pink lips still uttering your name and other slurring profanities. “Thank you - oh fuck.”
Just as the words fell from his mouth, his hips thrusted into your fists one last time, urging his girth to spill hot, white seed on your knuckles in strong spurts. Your speed slowed but never ceased, your eyes spying the way his face flushed a deep red. A strangled cry ripped from his throat just as his orgasm wracked his body like a tidal wave. While he took prolonged blinks, his heavy lidded eyes remained trained on the mirror. You peppered small kisses underneath his ear while his orgasm rode its course, until his devastating whimpers reduced to heavy breaths, until his quaking thighs reduced in intensity. His head lulled back against your shoulder as he continued to catch his breath. You allowed him to catch his breath for a short minute before speaking. “You know better than to not clean yourself up,” you remarked flatly. Jake blinked blearily, lost but willing to be instructed. Carefully, you let go of his softening length with one of your hands and brought it to his mouth. Picking up his head, his shaky hands held your wrist carefully, as if scared to break fine china, and slowly licked up his own cum, humming while doing so.The hand left on his length began to stroke him again slowly, causing his rhythm to temporarily halt but overall fail to disrupt his flow. He dutifully flattened his tongue and clean the back of your hand, your knuckles, the crevices between your lithe fingers. Your breath hitched just for a moment, a crack in your armour, and you were sure that Jake didn’t miss it. It didn’t take long until your hand was completely free of his spilled cum and his focus was fixated on your hand moving on his cock once again, sending sparks of overstimulation through his spine. “‘S too much, please give me a s-second,” Jake protested quietly, as if he truly did not want to complain but his hand had been forced. Without missing a beat, your hand sped up and you cut him a look from the side. “Are you complaining?” you spoke simply. Immediately, he shook his head, but followed it up with a soft no upon realising you would not be satisfied with a non verbal answer. With that, you continued to stroke his cock mercilessly, ignoring his soft cries. Tears prickled the corners of his eyes once again, but he willed them to not overflow. Soon, his length stiffened once again and you freed him from his torture just as his cries reduced to moans once again.
Once he was rock hard once again, you gently tapped his shoulder. That was enough instruction to cause him to shakily get to his feet, breath still uneven. You got up behind him and began to strip down, pulling your top over your head and undoing your bra. Jake almost immediately settled back down on the mattress as soon as you got up. His eyes were still absent yet still remained trained on your body which you readily exposed. Soon, you were bare. Normally there was some healthy yet small level of self consciousness you felt being exposed, but you were so wet that it didn’t even cross your mind. “Oh fuck,” Jake cursed silently. He watched you climb over his body carefully, large hands gripping your hips to steady you and make sure you perform the maneuver safely. “Baby, you’re so pretty,” he murmured once you had settled down. His eyes raked over your neck, your breasts, your bare torso, your core slickened with your arousal caused by Jake’s unwavering obedience. You felt his cock twitch angrily yet pitifully against your thigh, the remnants of lube smearing against your skin in a memorable touch of your past activities. “You’re so pretty too, love,” you spoke softly. Your hand traveled up to his neck and wrapped your fingers around it, not quite applying pressure but simply fixing his head to position itself in a manner where he could not escape your gaze. Although he usually had no issue with maintaining eye contact when prompted, the effect of your action is not lost on him; a soft, stifled whimper could be heard from his throat.
“How bad do you want it?” you quipped with a small mischievous grin. Just as Jake parted his lips to speak, you adjusted yourself so you sat directly on him, your wettened folds sitting snug against his hardened girth. Almost immediately you moved your hips against him, a sigh falling from your lips as your swollen bud became stimulated from the friction created with his veins. You could almost see the moment you stole the breath from his lungs simply from staring into his eyes before. The man who once knew exactly what to say was rendered effectively speechless. Still, he wouldn’t disobey you. “So, so, so bad. I need you please — you’re so soft ‘nd tight ‘nd… warm…” he groaned lowly in response. Your cunt shamelessly drooled on his cock to the extent that strings of arousal dropped between you and him when you raised yourself slightly. You gripped the base of his cock firmly and tapped the head of his dick against your clit with enough force to make you jolt. The grip Jake had on your hips tightened as he swallowed down a moan dryly. “Please, I-I need you so bad,” he urged once again. All strength had been stripped from his tone and exposed the true desperation hiding behind it. If that wasn’t enough of an indicator in isolation, the tears that sprang to his eyes almost immediately informed you of such. Finally succumbing to his soft, devastating pleas, you lined his throbbing girth up with your entrance and slowly slid down, working your way through the brutish burn of the stretch. A soft hiss left your mouth, but the burn was addictive and meddled messily with the pleasure of the fullness. Thus, you didn’t hesitate for a second. Jake, on the other hand, was trying his dear hardest to not cum straight away. The iron grip on your hip which foretold of a nasty bruise told you enough, but his quivering lip and the few tears he had been painfully holding finally falling down the redness of his cheek attested to it further. It was only when your hips fell plush against his own that you let out a breath that you weren’t even actively aware you were holding.
You took a long few seconds to allow your walls to scramble around his cock, rushing to align itself and stretch around him. You simply breathed deeply through your nose while your hand dropped from his neck to one of his hands on your hip, picking it up in your grip and intertwining your fingers together. That was enough to ground the both of you, where the sensation of simply existing in that moment was euphoric. “S-So… hah, tight,” he moaned wantonly. Almost immediately. you slowly began to rock your hips back and forth on him. A soft moan fell from your lips, your head rocking back. Jake leaned forward and raised his other hand from your hip and moved to cup your breast in his veiny hand. His tongue darted out and laid against the underside of your nipple while his lips wrapped around it, sucking earnestly while whining against you. The sensitivity in your peaks shot straight to your core, coaxing more sounds of pleasure from you. “You’re such a good boy,” you cooed between soft pants. You began to bounce up and down, placing both your hands on his chest. The burn of the stretch was still lingering, but the pleasure crawling through your veins made you not mind it entirely. Jake’s mouth fell open, guttural groans escaping his throat. The few tears that had rolled down his face dissipated onto the pink of his lips, the wet trail being the only testimony to their presence. You could feel the slight tremble of the young man’s thighs beneath your own every time you descended on his length, but that wasn’t enough for you.
You adjusted yourself to get up on your toes, moving your hands to grip the headboard behind Jake’s head. His eyes suddenly went wide, able to participate in what was to come, but the only thing that left his mouth was raggedy breathing. While your own thighs were quaking slightly simply from the previous stretch of his dick, your newly found strength enabled you to begin raising your hips and slamming them down on his own with reckless abandon. Your hips raised until just the tip of his cock remained nestled in you, but brought yourself down with a force which knocked the length out of both your lungs. You were punishing yourself in the best way. The new angle meant that the head of his cock jabbed your sweet spot with perfect precision, making you whimper. “Ho-holy shiiiit,” Jake moaned shamelessly. The way his cock massages your walls perfectly was mind numbing, but it was something you couldn’t fully succumb to at the time; not when your status quo was making Jake jelly. It seemed you were succeeding; his arms fell limply at his sides and he looked up blearily at you, his mouth ajar and only mere whimpers of your name falling from him occasionally. It was as if he was between worlds of being unable to bear your punishing hips, what with his lingering oversensitivity, and also not being able to get enough of the way your cunt weeped around him and squeezed his cock, threatening to milk him of all the cum he could possibly spill for a week. Despite how far gone he was, he found enough strength to raise a hand to plant on your bouncing ass, helping you as the burn of your position crept along your knees and thighs. You were barrelling closer and closer to the finish, quicker than you previously anticipated. Maybe it was the way the slick of your pussy coated him more and more, making his girth glisten under the low light of the room each time you raised your hips, or even your sounds becoming higher as you became a slave of your own making, but Jake took notice of it immediately.
With an unexplainable bound of energy, his other limp hand snaked around your thigh to press his thumb against your clit in tightly-wound circles. Your gasp was noticeable, loud, uncontrollable. “D-does that fe-eel good mama?” he groaned lowly. “It feels so p-perfect Jakey,” you cried out. Your pace began to stutter, failing to carry the same depth as before. Ever observant, Jake’s grip tightened on your hip as he adjusted himself to be able to thrust up into you, meeting your weakened hip movements. Despite taking on physical control, you knew he was still under your thumb at your beck and call. “Make me cum baby, I’m so cl-close,” you panted, one of your hands on the headboard falling to his chest once again, but this time rolling his nipple between your fingers. His whimpers remained loud, his voice even beginning to crack from effort, but his fingers and hips never stopped even as his own orgasm loomed. “Yes baby,” he responded quickly. You began to move your hips once again to meet his own, resuming the deep strokes you were subjected to before.
It didn’t take long.
Burying your face into the crook of his neck, your eyes rolled back as your orgasm fell in waves over your body. “Jaaaake,” you moaned in a voice that did not belong to you. Your body shook like a leaf in the wind above him, the hand on his chest slowly becoming your nails dragging across his skin. Similarly, Jake’s voice cried out shortly after you as his length began to twitch within your walls unloading rope after rope of cum deep against your cervix. He too completely slumped under you, spent and more than satisfied. Your hips rocked slowly and gently as he filled you up, causing you to shakily moan. The both of you said and did nothing for a while, still and throbbing, warm and glowing. The hand in your hip drew idle nondescript shapes into your lower back, your breath radiating pure heat against his pulse.
You soon moved slowly, body still shaky, and reached for a small clean towel which laid close to the vanity table. You crawled over to your boyfriend and gently cleaned his softening length which caused him to whimper. “You’re a good worker, Jake,” you murmured as you gently cleaned between his thighs. Your eyes flicked upwards to meet his eyes. The same eyes met you, so ready to listen but this time, a little more worn down. His hair was mussed in his face, slightly covering his eyes and some stray strands stuck to his forehead by sweat. His face remained flushed but was gradually lessening in its rouge. His lips were swollen from repeated licking and biting. His breathing still somewhat uneasy, he reached for a water bottle on the bedside table and flicked it open, taking several deep gulps. You grinned softly, knowing he was already anticipating your instruction to hydrate. “You don’t need to be so hard on yourself, you know that.” He listened earnestly while you peppered kisses trailing upwards to his mouth: his thigh, his hip, his lower stomach, his abs, his chest, his neck, his jawline. You finally let your lips touch, soft and grounding. His hand raised to cup the side of the neck as his lips moved carefully against yours with care of a person that did not want to break you. He broke the kiss to take the towel from your grip and motioned for you to lay down beside him, which you did. Mirroring your past movements, he wiped in between your legs so gently that it felt like he was ghosting over you. It made you shudder. “I know, I think I just got… really overwhelmed today,” he mumbled. Tossing the towel aside, he took the water bottle he had just drank from and handed it to you. Just like him, you tipped it back and drank its contents, feeling refreshed. “At least I only have a radio appearance tomorrow… but… thank you,” he smiled gratefully. You were mindful in returning the smile as you handed him back the water bottle. “Anytime baby.”
As Jake sank down on the pillow beside you, the heaviness of his eyes were telling. You carefully untucked the sheets from underneath your bodies and threw it over the two of you. He immediately snuggled into the new environment, pulling you into an embrace. Your hand raised to his head to massage his scalp. His eyes immediately fluttered shut in response. As he drifted off, you paid attention to his body slowly falling slack around you, yet his grip on your waist remained firm. It was the gentle rhythm of his heavy breathing that brought you under finally.
