Author note~ this idea is from a request that I accidentally deleted 😔 so anon if you're still out there this is what I made for you! 🩷 This is also my first audio so like... Yeah
Warnings~ heavy moaning, very quiet wet sounds in the background, I can't think of anything else tbh
synopsis : living next door to lee heeseung has always been a nightmare loud, cocky, and impossible to ignore until one reckless night at a party leaves you waking up in his bed and running before it can mean anything you try to forget it ever happened, until two lines change everything, and suddenly the one person you can’t stand is the one you can’t escape.
pairing : basketball captain heeseung x neighbourf!reader
trope : accidental pregnancy + forced proximity
word count : 19.6k
warnings : heeseung is a an absolute asshole, accidental pregnancy, alot panic and guilt, abortion / termination discussion, fear of the future, alcohol use, one night stand, dirty talking, cursing, foreplay, dry humping, oral, drunk sex ( consent is present ) , unprotected sex, mild degradation, hair pulling, creampie
🗯️ JO’s NOTES < 🐻❄️ 3 ! : omggg finallyy juno part one is out, hope you have an absolute amazing time when reading. navi did the proofreading for me ilysmm <3333
The bass from the apartment next door was so loud it made your pencil roll off the desk for the third time tonight thump thump thump. Each beat vibrated through the thin wall like it was personally trying to ruin your life.
You stared at the half finished notes in front of you, frustration bubbling hot in your chest. Midterms were in two weeks. Two weeks and Lee Heeseung, the campus golden boy, basketball captain, and your personal nightmare of a neighbor was throwing another one of his legendary parties like tomorrow didn’t exist.
This was the nth time. The nth damn time since you’d moved in six months ago. With a sharp exhale, you shoved your chair back and stormed out of your apartment, not even bothering to change out of your oversized hoodie and sweatpants. The hallway reeked of spilled beer and expensive cologne.
You could already hear the chaos before you even reached his door. Laughter, glasses clinking, some girl’s high pitched giggle cutting through the music.
You banged on the door harder than necessary. It took a few seconds before someone inside yelled over the noise, “Yoo Heeseung! Someone’s banging at your front door!”The door finally swung open.
Heeseung stood there in all his infuriating glory tall, broad shouldered, black hair slightly tousled like he’d been running his hands through it. His button up was half undone, revealing a silver chain that rested on his collarbones and a glimpse of toned chest. Behind him, the party pulsed with red solo cups, dim lights, and at least half the basketball team.
A pretty girl with long hair and a tight dress was pressed close to his side, her hand resting possessively on his arm. He’d clearly been in the middle of charming her into his bed by the end of the night.
The second his dark eyes landed on you, that signature cocky smirk curved his lips.“Hi, miss morals,” he drawled, voice low and teasing, like he’d been waiting for this exact interruption.
You rolled your eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck. “Can you turn it down? The music is too loud.”
Heeseung didn’t move. Instead, he leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, crossing his arms in a way that made his biceps strain against the fabric of his shirt. The girl behind him shifted, clearly annoyed at the sudden attention shift, but Heeseung didn’t spare her a glance now.
“Miss morals strikes again,” he laughed, the sound rich and mocking. It sent an unwelcome spark of irritation down your spine. “What’s the problem this time, neighbor? Come to bless us with your righteous presence?”
“I’m serious, Heeseung,” you said, voice sharp as you folded your arms tightly across your chest. “Not everyone has the pleasure of partying all night. Others have to actually study to pass their exams whereas others can just have daddy pay for everything when they fuck up.”The words hung in the air between you.
Heeseung’s smirk faltered instantly. His jaw tightened, and he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. For a split second, something raw annoyance, maybe even hurt flashed across his face before he quickly shoved it back into that indifferent mask. His eyes darkened, the playful glint gone.
“Whatever,” he muttered, voice suddenly flat and cold. “I’ll lower the volume.”He said, “Thank you,” you replied curtly, refusing to let the small victory show on your face even though your heart was hammering.
Heeseung didn’t say anything else. He simply stepped back and shut the door right in your face with a firm click that echoed down the empty hallway.
You stood there for a moment, staring at the closed wooden door, fists clenched at your sides. The music inside dropped almost immediately, not completely off, but low enough that you could finally breathe. Muffled laughter and voices still filtered through, but at least your walls wouldn’t shake anymore.
“Asshole,” you whispered under your breath, turning on your heel and heading back to your apartment.As you closed your own door behind you, you leaned against it for a second, eyes closed. Why did he always have to make everything so difficult? Why did one look from him always manage to crawl under your skin like this?
You shook your head, forcing the thoughts away. Back to studying. Back to pretending Lee Heeseung didn’t exist. But deep down, you already knew tonight’s silence between you two had just gotten a little louder.
You were halfway through rewriting your notes when your phone buzzed on the desk, the screen lighting up with a new message.
yunjin : you know sunghoon righttt? he’s throwing a massive party after midterms and he personally invited me. pleeease come with me?? i don’t wanna go alone 🥺
You stared at the text, already feeling the familiar dread settle in your stomach. Another party of course. You typed back quickly
you : No thanks im good have fun tho
The two dots appeared immediately.
yunjin : babe come onnnn
yunjin : it’s after midterms!! you deserve to relax
yunjin : sunghoon’s parties are actually fun i swear
yunjin : there’ll be good music, free drinks, and i heard the basketball team is coming too 👀
You groaned, rubbing your temples. The last thing you wanted was to be anywhere near the basketball team especially not after tonight’s lovely encounter with their captain.
you : exactly why I’m not going pass
yunjin : please please please i really like sunghoon and this could be my chance
yunjin : i’ll owe you big time i’ll even help you study for the next round of exams i’ll buy you that expensive matcha you like for a month!!
You leaned back in your chair, biting your lip. Yunjin was relentless when she wanted something. And honestly she had been there for you through every late night breakdown this semester. Saying no felt a little cruel the pleading texts kept coming
yunjin : i won’t leave your side the whole night ( she is lying )
yunjin : we can leave early if you hate it , pretty please with cherries on top?? 🥺🍒
You sighed deeply, already knowing you were about to lose this battle.
you : fine, ONE HOUR that’s it if it sucks, we’re out.
yunjin : YESSSSS!!! you’re the best i love you so much
yunjin : we can dress up together at my place okay , see you tomorrow <33
You tossed your phone onto the desk and dropped your head into your hands. Great, just what you needed. Another night surrounded by loud music, drunk athletes, and the very real possibility of running into the Lee Heeseung again.
You glanced at the wall that separated your apartment from his. The music was still playing faintly, but at least it was bearable now. Just one party, you could survive one party right?
The next morning, the art history lecture hall was already filling up with the usual mix of sleepy students and last minute crammers when you slipped into your regular seat in the middle row.
The faint scent of fresh coffee and old books lingered in the air. Yunjin dropped dramatically into the chair on your right, her long hair still slightly damp from her morning shower, eyes bright with far too much excitement for a 9 am class.
On your left, Soobin settled in quietly, tall frame folding gracefully into the seat. He placed his neatly organized notebook on the desk and pulled out a perfectly sharpened pencil, offering you a soft, reassuring smile.
Soobin was always like this calm, steady, the kind of friend who showed up without making a fuss. He was the complete opposite of the loud, chaotic energy that seemed to follow Heeseung everywhere.
Yunjin, however, was already completely distracted. She was leaning forward, chin resting on her hand, openly staring toward the front rows where Sunghoon sat chatting with a couple of friends. Her gaze was soft and dreamy, a tiny smile tugging at her lips every time he laughed at something.
You nudged her arm with your elbow, voice low and teasing. “You’re oogling him again it’s getting embarrassing at this point.”Yunjin didn’t even pretend to deny it. “I’m not oogling, im appreciating art,” she whispered back, still not tearing her eyes away. “Look at him he’s literally perfect.”
Soobin let out a quiet chuckle beside you, shaking his head as he flipped open his notebook. “Sure ‘appreciating’ that’s why half your notes from last week were just little hearts around his name.” He teased her, to which she replied,
“Traitor,” Yunjin hissed playfully, finally glancing at both of you as her cheeks flushed pink. “You two are supposed to be on my side.”The light banter continued until Soobin turned to you, lowering his voice a little. “Hey, I heard there was a party at Heeseung’s last night, did you survive the noise?”
You let out a long, dramatic groan and slumped back in your seat, the memory of last night’s confrontation still fresh and irritating. “Barely. That idiot had the music blasting so loud my textbooks were literally vibrating on the desk. I had to march over there in my hoodie and sweatpants like some angry neighbor from a sitcom again.”
Soobin listened attentively, his expression patient and sympathetic. He never interrupted your rants or told you to just ignore it. He just nodded along, dark eyes focused on you, making you feel genuinely heard.
It was one of the many reasons you treasured his friendship he was thoughtful, kind, and never loud or arrogant for the sake of it. The polar opposite of Heeseung.
“And of course he answered the door half dressed with some girl hanging off his arm like a trophy,” you continued, voice dripping with annoyance. “Called me ‘miss morals’ like it’s the funniest joke in the world.
Then when I pointed out that not everyone has a rich daddy to bail them out when they party instead of studying, he got all pissy, sucked in this dramatic breath, and slammed the door right in my face. He’s such an entitled asshole.”
Soobin hummed softly, a small frown creasing his brow. “That sounds exhausting, you should’ve texted me you know, i could’ve come over with snacks and we could’ve studied together instead of dealing with his nonsense alone.”
You smiled faintly at the offer, warmth cutting through the irritation. “Next time, maybe at least someone in this building has basic human decency.”
Yunjin finally tore her gaze away from Sunghoon long enough to grin at you. “Heeseung’s just bored and likes getting a rise out of you if you stopped reacting, he’d probably get bored and stop.”
“Easy for you to say,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “You don’t have to live next door to the human equivalent of a walking migraine.”The professor walked in moments later, cutting off any further complaints.
The next hour passed in a blur of projected slides on Renaissance techniques, quiet note taking, and the occasional whispered comment from Yunjin whenever Sunghoon shifted in his seat.
When class finally ended, the three of you packed up your things and joined the stream of students flowing out into the crowded hallway. The air was filled with chatter about upcoming midterms, weekend plans, and the usual campus gossip.
As you walked side by side, Yunjin suddenly looped her arm through yours, her excitement bubbling over again. “So, about Sunghoon’s party after midterms you’re definitely coming, right? And Soobin you should come too! It’ll be so much more fun with all three of us there.”
Soobin blinked, surprised, his eyebrows raising slightly. “Wait you’re actually going?” He looked at you, genuinely shocked. “I thought you hated parties, especially ones thrown by the popular crowd.”
You shrugged, already regretting your decision a little. “Yunjin begged a lot and guilt tripped me with matcha promises. One hour max, if it sucks, I’m dragging her out.”
Yunjin squealed happily and squeezed your arm. “See? She’s coming! So you have to come too, Soobinn please?”Before Soobin could respond, a familiar voice cut through the hallway noise from behind you.
“Can’t imagine miss morals at a party but I’m looking forward to seeing you there.” Your stomach dropped, you didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was.
Heeseung was leaning casually against a set of lockers a few feet away, arms crossed over his varsity jacket, that signature cocky smirk playing on his lips. He must have overheard the entire conversation.
His dark eyes locked onto yours with clear amusement, like he lived for these moments of catching you off guard.
You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a verbal response. Heat crept up your neck partly from annoyance, partly from the embarrassment of him hearing your plans.
Yunjin stifled a laugh beside you while Soobin just shook his head quietly, a small, amused smile tugging at his mouth.
Heeseung’s low chuckle followed you as the three of you kept walking, but you kept your gaze fixed straight ahead, jaw tight. God, you really, really hated that guy.Midterms week stretched into a brutal two week marathon, and as an art curator major, you felt every single hour of it in your bones.
Your apartment had become a war zone of curated chaos towering stacks of books on museum exhibition design, printed slides from Art Conservation and Curatorial Practices, mood boards pinned to the wall for your upcoming gallery proposal project, and color coded flashcards scattered across every surface.
Late nights blurred into early mornings as you hunched over your laptop, drafting proposals for hypothetical exhibits while trying to memorize the intricate history of 19th century European collections. Sleep was a distant dream. Caffeine was your only reliable companion.
And then there was Heeseung.
He didn’t blast music or bring girls over every single night that would have been almost predictable. No, he was crueler than that. He chose random days, like he knew exactly how to keep you off balance, turning your already exhausting study schedule into a minefield of unwanted interruptions.
The first time hit on the second night of midterms. You were deep into analyzing a case study on museum ethics when the wall behind your desk started to vibrate faintly. At first it was just low music.
Then came the giggles two distinct female voices, breathy and flirtatious. Heeseung’s deep laugh cut through it all, followed by the unmistakable sound of bodies moving against furniture.
“Fuck, Heeseung you’re so good at this,” one of the girls moaned loudly, the words carrying crystal clear through the thin shared wall. The headboard started thumping a slow, steady rhythm against your wall rhythmic, insistent, growing faster.
You could hear the wet slap of skin, her exaggerated gasps turning into full throated cries every time he thrust.You yanked your noise canceling headphones on so hard the band dug into your temples, cranking the volume until classical music drowned most of it out.
But you could still feel it, the steady bang bang bang vibrating through your desk, through your chair, through your skull. Your cheeks burned with secondhand embarrassment and pure rage.
'Of course he’s fucking some random girl while I’m trying to memorize the difference between Baroque and Rococo curation techniques.' You thought bitterly, stabbing your highlighter across the page. Must be nice to have zero responsibilities except basketball and dick appointments.
It stopped around 2 a.m., but the damage was done. You only managed three hours of sleep before your 8 a.m. lecture.
The next morning, you were running on pure spite and too much coffee when you caught Heeseung in the hallway just as he was stepping out of his apartment. He looked annoyingly fresh — hair still damp from a shower, varsity jacket slung over one shoulder, that perpetual cocky smirk already in place.
You stopped right in front of him, arms crossed tightly. “Keep it down next time,” you said flatly, voice low but sharp. “Some of us are actually trying to pass our midterms instead of auditioning for porn.”
Heeseung raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Aw, miss morals heard everything? Didn’t know you were such a light sleeper.” You glared at him, heat rising to your cheeks. “Just tone it down, the headboard banging is ridiculous.”
He chuckled lowly, the sound sending another spike of irritation through you. “Noted.” Then he leaned in slightly, voice dropping. “Though from the sounds of it last night, she seemed to enjoy the banging.”
You rolled your eyes and walked away without another word, his soft laugh following you down the hall.The next disruption came four days later. A random Thursday when you had a massive group project due on modern curatorial strategies.
You’d just settled in with your laptop open to a half finished exhibition proposal when his door slammed open down the hall. One girl this time, but she was even louder.
The moment they got inside, the sounds started again her high pitched whimpers, Heeseung’s low, cocky murmurs “Yeah? You like that? Tell me how much you want it” followed by the unmistakable wet sounds of them going at it on what sounded like his couch first, then migrating to the bed.
The headboard slammed against the wall so hard your framed print of Van Gogh’s Starry Night rattled. Her moans turned into broken sobs of pleasure, each one punctuated by Heeseung’s grunts and the filthy slap of bodies. “Harder fuck, right there, Heeseung don’t stop—”
You ended up studying in your bed instead, laptop balanced on your knees, pillows stacked around you like a fortress. Headphones on full blast. Still, every thrust made the wall tremble.
Every moan crawled under your skin and made focusing on your notes feel impossible. By the time they finally finished (or at least quieted down) around midnight, your eyes were burning and your proposal was only half done.
You hated how your body reacted sometimes not with attraction, but with pure, simmering resentment that made your stomach twist.That same night, after the noises finally stopped, you grabbed your phone in a fit of exhausted anger and texted him.
you : keep the noise down, some people are trying to study for actual grades, not coast on basketball talent and daddy’s money
His reply came faster than you expected. A picture popped up first. A close up selfie of Heeseung lying in bed, shirtless, messy hair, lazy smirk on his face, with the caption
heeseung : sorry, miss morals hard to stay quiet when they scream my name like that
heeseung : next time i’ll try to fuck quieter or maybe you can just join and tell me how to do it right?
You stared at the message, face flaming with a mix of rage and disbelief. You immediately blocked the image from your mind ( and definitely did not linger on the way his abs looked in the dim lighting ) before typing back a single furious reply
you : delete my number, asshole
The worst random night came during the final stretch, just three days before your last exams.
You were pulling an all nighter on your capstone project a full digital mock up of a contemporary art exhibit you’d spent weeks perfecting when the noises started again around 11 p.m. This time it was two girls.
Their laughter spilled into the hallway first, then straight through your wall. Heeseung’s voice was low and teasing, the kind of filthy charm that probably worked on every girl on campus.
Soon the bed was creaking loudly, headboard banging in a frantic rhythm while both girls moaned in tandem one breathy and high, the other deeper and more desperate.
“Heeseung oh god, yes fuck me like that—” mixed with wet, obscene sounds that left zero doubt about exactly what was happening next door. The wall vibrated so intensely your coffee mug slid an inch across the desk.
You sat there in your oversized hoodie and sweatpants, staring at your glowing screen, jaw clenched so tight it ached. Every moan, every dirty encouragement from Heeseung, every rhythmic thud felt like a personal attack on the one thing you actually cared about your future.
Your grades, your dream of curating real exhibitions someday. While I’m over here trying not to fail out of the only thing I’m good at, you thought, fingers flying angrily across the keyboard, he’s over there living his best life with a rotating cast of girls screaming his name.
You wore the headphones until your ears rang. You even tried white noise apps, earplugs underneath nothing fully blocked it. The sex noises went on for nearly two hours that night, loud and shameless, until they finally quieted around 1:30 a.m.
By the end of the two weeks, you were running on fumes dark circles under your eyes, caffeine shakes in your hands, and a permanent knot of irritation lodged in your chest whenever you passed his door.
The random nights had been spaced out just enough to feel like psychological warfare instead of constant chaos.Heeseung never once toned it down. Never once seemed to care that someone on the other side of the wall was actually trying to build a future that didn’t involve daddy’s money or NBA scouts.
When Friday morning finally arrived and your last exam was over, you dragged yourself back to the apartment building, shoulders heavy with exhaustion. The hallway was quiet for once. Heeseung’s door looked innocently closed.
You unlocked your own door, stepped inside, and immediately collapsed face first onto your bed, still in your clothes midterms were done.But the resentment toward the boy next door had only grown sharper and Sunghoon’s party was tonight. You groaned into your pillow one hour in and out. Just don’t kill Heeseung on sight.
You took the quickest shower of your life, and changed into the first comfortable outfit you could find—a simple black crop top that showed just a sliver of your midriff and your favorite pair of dark jeans—comfortable, practical, safe.
You texted Yunjin that you were ready to head over to her place to “get ready together,” secretly hoping she wouldn’t make a big deal out of your clothes—big mistake. Yunjin’s apartment was only two blocks away, and the second you stepped inside, she took one look at you and gasped like you had personally offended her.
“No no absolutely not,” she declared, hands on her hips, eyes scanning you up and down with pure horror. “You cannot go to Sunghoon’s party looking like that.”
You glanced down at yourself, confused. “What’s wrong with this? It’s cute it’s comfortable.”“Cute? Comfortable?” Yunjin repeated, already dragging you toward her bedroom like a woman on a mission.
“Babe, we’re going to a party, not the library. You just survived two weeks of hell tonight you’re supposed to look hot, not like you’re about to give a museum tour.”
Before you could protest, she flung open her closet and started pulling out clothes with frightening speed. She held up a black mini skirt dangerously short, made of soft leather like material and a sheer black button up shirt that was practically see through.
“Try these,” she ordered, shoving the hanger into your hands. You stared at the outfit like it might bite you. “Yunjin, no way, that skirt is barely legal and the shirt is see through i’m not wearing that.”
“Yes way, you are,” she sang, already pushing you toward the bathroom. “You agreed to come to the party that means you’re under my styling jurisdiction for tonight go change now”
You argued the entire time you were changing. “This is ridiculous! im going to freeze, people are going to stare i look like I’m trying way too hard—”
But Yunjin was relentless. The second you stepped out in the mini skirt and sheer shirt ( with a black bralette underneath so you weren’t completely exposed ), she clapped her hands and squealed.
“Oh my god, yes! Look at you!” She spun you around in front of her full length mirror. The skirt hugged your hips and ended high on your thighs, making your legs look longer.
The sheer shirt draped softly over your shoulders, the black bralette visible underneath in a way that was teasing but not outright scandalous. “You look insane like, dangerously hot.”
You tugged at the hem of the skirt, cheeks burning. “I feel naked. Can't I at least wear the jeans over this or something?”“No,” she said firmly, already sitting you down in front of her vanity. “We’re doing makeup now sit still.”
For the next twenty minutes, Yunjin worked her magic. Winged eyeliner sharp enough to cut glass, soft smoky eyes, a touch of highlighter on your cheekbones, and a bold red lip that made your mouth look fuller. She even styled your hair into loose, effortless waves that framed your face perfectly.
When she finally stepped back, she let out a satisfied sigh.“Anyone would worship the ground you walk on looking like this,” she said, grinning proudly. “Trust me tonight, you’re not the stressed out art curator girl who yells at her neighbor. You’re the girl who turns heads even Heeseung won’t know what to do with himself when he sees you.”
You rolled your eyes, but a small flutter of nerves mixed with reluctant confidence settled in your stomach as you looked at your reflection. The outfit was way bolder than anything you’d normally wear, but you had to admit it looked good.
“Fine,” you muttered, smoothing down the skirt one last time. “But if I hate it, we’re leaving early and if Heeseung says one word about ‘miss morals’ in this outfit, I’m pouring a drink on him.”Yunjin laughed and linked her arm with yours. “Deal now let’s go make Sunghoon’s party unforgettable.”
You and Yunjin barely made it out of her apartment before your phone buzzed with a text from Soobin saying he was already waiting downstairs. The three of you had agreed he would drive so none of you had to worry about getting home later.
The elevator ride down felt too short. Your heart was already beating a little faster than usual partly from the unfamiliar outfit, partly from the knowledge that you were actually going to a party after surviving two brutal weeks of midterms.
The black mini skirt kept riding up slightly with every step, and you kept tugging nervously at the hem while Yunjin wouldn’t stop complimenting how good you looked.
When you stepped out of the building into the cool evening air, Soobin’s car was parked right in front, engine idling. He was leaning casually against the driver’s side, scrolling through his phone, but the moment he looked up and saw the two of you approaching, his eyes widened noticeably.
Especially when they landed on you. Soobin froze for a second, his usual calm expression cracking into pure, genuine shock. His gaze traveled slowly from your loose waves and sharp winged eyeliner, down to the sheer black shirt that subtly revealed the black bralette underneath, then to the dangerously short leather like mini skirt that made your legs look endless.
He blinked once, twice, before quickly clearing his throat and straightening up, ears turning a light shade of pink.“Wow” he said, voice a little higher than his normal soft tone. “You both look really nice like, really nice.”
Yunjin grinned triumphantly, looping her arm through yours and squeezing. “See? Told you! Even Soobin is shook, she looks hot, right?”
You felt heat creep up your neck and quickly crossed your arms over your chest, suddenly hyper aware of how different you looked from your usual oversized hoodie and jeans self.
“It’s all Yunjin’s doing. She basically held me hostage in her room until I changed. I tried to wear my normal clothes and she acted like I committed a crime.”
Soobin gave a small, shy laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as he opened the back door for both of you like the gentleman he was. “No, it really suits you, you look great tonight.” His compliment was sincere and gentle, making the awkwardness feel a little softer. “Ready to go? Sunghoon’s place isn’t too far from here.”
The car ride was filled with easy, light chatter that helped calm your nerves. Yunjin sat in the front passenger seat, already buzzing with excitement about seeing Sunghoon, while you sat in the back, occasionally tugging at your skirt and staring out the window at the passing streetlights.
Soobin kept the conversation flowing comfortably, light complaints about how brutal midterms had been, predictions about how wild the party might get, and Yunjin’s endless teasing about how
Sunghoon had “personally invited” her. Every now and then Soobin would glance at you through the rearview mirror, still looking a little flustered whenever your eyes met.
Before you knew it, Soobin was pulling up to a large off campus house that was already pulsing with loud music and flashing colored lights. Cars lined both sides of the street, and groups of people were laughing and chatting on the front lawn, red cups in hand.
The three of you climbed out of the car, and the heavy bass from inside immediately hit you like a wave. The night air smelled like a mix of cheap beer, sweet perfume, and fresh cut grass. Yunjin practically bounced on her heels with excitement as the three of you walked up the pathway toward the front door.
Sunghoon was standing right at the entrance, playing the perfect host in a simple black shirt and jeans. His sharp, handsome features broke into a warm, genuine smile the moment he spotted your group approaching.
“Hey! You guys actually made it,” he greeted cheerfully, voice carrying easily over the noise from inside. His eyes lingered on Yunjin for an extra beat, a soft grin tugging at his lips. “Yunjin, glad you came and you brought friends, nice.”
He gave Soobin a friendly nod and then turned his attention to you, eyebrows raising slightly in pleasant surprise as he took in your bold outfit. “Hey! you clean up really well. Welcome to the party, hope you guys have fun tonight.”
You managed a small, polite smile, still feeling slightly out of your element. “Thanks for inviting us.”Sunghoon handed each of you a red solo cup filled with something fruity and strong smelling a sweet cocktail that had a sharp kick of alcohol when you took your first cautious sip.
“Drinks are flowing inside help yourselves to whatever you want. There’s food in the kitchen, beer pong in the living room, and dancing. Pretty much everywhere enjoy!”
Yunjin thanked him brightly, her cheeks already a little flushed with excitement, and steered you and Soobin further into the crowded house. The interior was packed wall to wall with people.
Students were laughing loudly, dancing in the middle of the living room, playing intense games of beer pong, and making out in dimly lit corners. The music was loud but not yet overwhelming, colorful lights flashing across the walls and bodies.
For the first few minutes, the three of you stuck close together, weaving through the crowd while sipping your drinks. Soobin stayed protectively near your side, occasionally leaning down to say something quiet and reassuring whenever he noticed you looking a bit overwhelmed by the chaos.
Then you felt it. That familiar, annoying prickle on the back of your neck, like someone was watching you. You turned your head slightly, and there he was.
Heeseung was leaning casually against the wall near the staircase, a red cup dangling from his fingers. He was surrounded by a small group of his closest friends—Beomgyu laughing at something on his phone, Jake with his usual bright smile, and Jay nursing his own drink while scanning the room.
Heeseung looked effortlessly good tonight in a black button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his toned forearms, and dark jeans that sat low on his hips. His hair was styled in that signature messy but perfect way.
The moment his dark eyes found you across the crowded room, his conversation with the guys stopped mid sentence.
His gaze dragged slowly and shamelessly down your body, taking in the short black mini skirt that hugged your hips and thighs, the sheer shirt that teased the black bralette underneath, the way the outfit accentuated your curves before snapping back up to your face.
For once, his usual cocky smirk didn’t appear instantly. Instead, there was a flash of genuine surprise, followed by something darker, more heated, and appreciative.
He pushed off the wall and started walking straight toward your group, completely ignoring whatever Beomgyu was saying behind him.
“Well, well, well,” Heeseung drawled when he was close enough, his voice cutting smoothly through the music. His eyes were still shamelessly roaming over you. “Look who decided to show up. Miss morals in a mini skirt i almost didn’t recognize you damn.”
You felt your stomach twist with that familiar mix of irritation and unwanted warmth. Before you could even open your mouth to snap back, Yunjin jumped in defensively, stepping slightly in front of you with a bright but sharp smile.
“Excuse me, Heeseung? She looks amazing, and she doesn’t need your backhanded compliments,” Yunjin said, tilting her head with fake sweetness.
“Unlike some people who only know how to throw loud parties and bring random girls over during midterms, maybe focus on your own game instead of commenting on her outfit.”
Heeseung chuckled lowly, clearly amused by Yunjin’s quick defense, but his eyes never left you. Jake, Beomgyu, and Jay were now watching the exchange from a few feet away, Beomgyu smirking like he was enjoying the show and Jake looking mildly entertained.
“Relax, Yunjin,” Heeseung replied smoothly, taking a sip from his cup. “I’m just saying that she cleaned up dangerous tonight, didn’t think our neighbor owned anything shorter than ankle length. Beomgyu, Jake, Jay back me up here. She looks good, right?”
Beomgyu grinned and raised his cup in a lazy toast. “Yeah, she do be looking fire tonight.”Jake nodded with a bright laugh. “For real, new look suits you.”Jay just shook his head with a small smile, staying quiet but clearly entertained.
You rolled your eyes, lifting your red solo cup to your lips to hide the flush creeping up your cheeks. “Don’t start with me tonight, Heeseung i’m only here for one hour, and I’d rather not spend it dealing with your nonsense.”
Heeseung tilted his head, that signature cocky smirk fully back in place now as he took another slow step closer. The way he was looking at you made the noisy room feel suddenly ten degrees warmer.
“Gonna dance tonight, or are you just here to supervise everyone else’s fun like usual, miss morals?”
You didn’t even give Heeseung the satisfaction of a proper reply. Instead, you flipped him off with a sharp middle finger, turned on your heel, and grabbed Yunjin’s arm. “Come on, let’s go.”
Yunjin laughed loudly, clearly proud of your reaction, and let you drag her deeper into the crowded house while Heeseung’s low chuckle followed behind you. Beomgyu, Jake, and Jay were already teasing him in the background, but you refused to look back.
For the first half hour, the party actually felt manageable. You stuck close to Yunjin and Soobin, sipping from your red solo cup and people watching from a quieter corner of the living room.
The music was loud, the lights flashed in rhythm with the bass, and the alcohol slowly started to loosen the tight knot of stress that midterms had left in your chest. Then Sunghoon appeared again.
He approached your group with that easy, charming smile, eyes mostly locked on Yunjin. “Hey want to dance?”Yunjin’s face lit up like he’d just offered her the moon. She turned to you quickly, squeezing your hand. “You’ll be okay for a bit, right? I’ll be right back!”
Before you could even answer, she was gone, disappearing into the sea of bodies on the dance floor with Sunghoon’s hand on her waist, now it was just you and Soobin.
You tried to keep the conversation light, but the longer you stood there, the more the party energy started to pull at you. The drink in your cup was strong and sweet, and after two weeks of pure academic hell, the idea of letting loose felt dangerously tempting.
“Fuck it,” you muttered under your breath. You downed the rest of your drink in one go, the burn sliding warmly down your throat. Then you grabbed another cup from a passing tray and started sipping again. Why not? Midterms were over. You deserved this.
Soobin noticed and raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t judge. He stayed beside you, chatting quietly, making sure you weren’t completely alone. But after a while, you started feeling guilty. He was sweet, always listening, always there and here he was babysitting you instead of enjoying the party.
“Go talk to your friends,” you told him, giving him a gentle push toward a group of guys waving at him from across the room. “Seriously, Soobin i’ll be fine, i don’t want you wasting your night stuck with me. Go have fun i’ll text you if I need anything.”
He hesitated, looking concerned, but you begged him with your best pleading eyes until he finally nodded. “Okay but stay safe, text me if anything feels off.”
Once Soobin walked away to join his friends, you let yourself drift toward the dance floor. The alcohol was hitting nicely now a warm, fuzzy buzz that made the music feel better and your body lighter.
You moved to the edge of the crowd first, swaying gently, then slowly worked your way deeper into the pulsing bodies.
You didn’t notice him at first. But Heeseung had been watching you the entire time. From the moment Yunjin disappeared with Sunghoon, his eyes had followed you. He watched you down your drinks. He watched you convince Soobin to leave.
And now he watched as you finally stepped fully onto the dance floor, hips moving to the heavy beat, the short black mini skirt riding up just enough to draw attention, the sheer shirt catching the flashing lights.
Heeseung set his cup down and started moving through the crowd toward you, slow and deliberate. When he was close enough, he didn’t just grab you like most guys would. Instead, he leaned in slightly, voice low and surprisingly respectful against the loud music.
“Hey can I dance with you?”
You turned your head, alcohol making you bold. Your eyes met his, and for once, you didn’t immediately snap at him. The buzz in your veins, the way he was looking at you like he couldn’t look away…it made something reckless spark inside you.
You nodded “Yeah okay.” Only then did Heeseung step closer. The moment he did, the space between you disappeared. His body pressed lightly against yours at first, hands hovering respectfully before you started moving together.
The music was sensual, slow and heavy, and your bodies naturally fell into rhythm. It didn’t stay innocent for long. Heeseung’s hands gradually grew bolder one sliding to your waist, the other brushing up your side, fingers grazing the sheer fabric of your shirt.
You moved closer, hips rolling against his, the short skirt brushing against his thighs. His touch grew hotter, palms sliding down to grip your hips, then slowly roaming over the curve of your ass, pulling you flush against him.
The air between you thickened. Your breathing grew heavier. Every brush of his body sent sparks through your skin. Heeseung leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke, voice low. “fuck, not being able to kiss you right now is actual torture.”
The words hit you like a shot of pure heat. The alcohol, the weeks of built up tension, the way his hands felt all over your body everything crashed together in one reckless moment.
You didn’t think, you just acted. turning your head as you grabbed the front of his shirt, and crashed your lips against his.
The kiss was messy, desperate, and instantly wild. Heeseung groaned into your mouth the second your lips met, one hand flying up to cup the back of your neck while the other tightened possessively on your waist, pulling you even harder against him.
You kissed like you were angry at each other—teeth clashing, tongues sliding hot and deep, lips moving with raw hunger.
Heeseung kissed like he’d been waiting for this exact moment. His mouth was demanding, devouring, tilting your head to kiss you deeper. You moaned softly against him, fingers threading into his hair and tugging, which only made him kiss you harder.
The dance floor disappeared around you. The music faded into background noise. There was only the heat of his body, the taste of alcohol on his tongue, and the way his hands roamed greedily over your curves sliding up your back under the sheer shirt, gripping your hips, pressing you so close you could feel exactly how much he wanted you.
The makeout was crazy sloppy, passionate, breathless. You bit his lower lip, and he responded with a low growl, sucking on your tongue before kissing you even harder.
Your bodies moved together to the beat, grinding slowly while your mouths stayed locked in a heated battle.
When you finally pulled back for air, both of you were panting, lips swollen and shiny. Heeseung’s eyes were dark, pupils blown wide as he stared down at you like he wanted to devour you right there on the dance floor.
“Shit” he breathed, forehead resting against yours. “You’re going to kill me tonight.”The kiss finally broke, both of you breathing hard, lips swollen and glistening under the flashing party lights.
Heeseung’s forehead rested against yours, his hands still gripping your hips like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.
His eyes were dark, pupils blown with want, and the way he looked at you sent another rush of heat straight through your body.
You didn’t think. The alcohol, the weeks of hating him, the way his hands had felt all over you everything made you reckless. You leaned in closer, voice low and breathless against his ear. “Wanna go back to your apartment?”
Heeseung pulled back just enough to look at you, a dangerous smirk tugging at his swollen lips. For a split second, surprise flashed across his face, but it quickly melted into pure hunger.
“Fuck yes”
He didn’t waste another second. His hand slid down to grab yours firmly, fingers lacing tight as he started pulling you through the crowded dance floor. People moved out of the way as Heeseung cut a path toward the front door, his grip on you possessive and urgent.
You barely had time to register anything else Yunjin and Soobin were somewhere in the house, but right now, none of that mattered.The cool night air hit your flushed skin the moment you stepped outside, but it did nothing to calm the fire burning in your veins.
Heeseung’s car was parked a little down the street. He didn’t let go of your hand the entire way, and the second you reached the passenger side, he opened the door for you with surprising speed before rounding the car and sliding into the driver’s seat.
The moment the doors closed, the tension exploded again. Heeseung started the engine, but you were already growing impatient. The short drive back to your apartment building felt too long. Every red light, every stop sign made the ache between your legs worse.
You kept stealing glances at him his jaw tight, hands gripping the steering wheel, the way his shirt was slightly undone from your earlier tugging. At the third red light, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.“Fuck this,” you muttered.
Before Heeseung could react, you unbuckled your seatbelt, climbed over the center console, and straddled his lap in one swift motion. The mini skirt rode up high on your thighs as you settled on top of him, your hands immediately cupping his face as you crashed your lips back onto his.
Heeseung groaned loudly into the kiss, his hands flying to your waist to steady you. The kiss was even wilder than on the dance floor desperate, messy, all tongue and teeth. You rocked your hips against him, grinding down slowly at first, then harder, feeling him harden beneath you through his jeans.
His hands roamed greedily, one sliding up under your sheer shirt to palm your breast over the bralette, the other gripping your ass and pulling you tighter against his growing bulge.
“Shit you’re driving me crazy,” he muttered against your mouth between kisses, voice rough and wrecked.
You moaned softly, grinding down harder, the friction sending sparks through your entire body. The car windows started to fog up as you moved together, lips never leaving each other for long.
Heeseung’s tongue slid against yours, deep and filthy, while his hips bucked up to meet your movements, the steering wheel pressing into your back.
You were completely lost in him hands in his hair, tugging, lips sucking on his bottom lip, hips rolling in desperate circles when the sharp sound of honking suddenly pierced through the haze.
Once, twice, then a chorus of angry car horns blaring behind you reality crashed back in.
You pulled away from the kiss with a gasp, lips shiny and swollen, breathing ragged. The light had turned green, and the cars lined up behind you were laying on their horns, some drivers shouting out their windows.
Heeseung let out a breathless laugh, his hands still gripping your thighs tightly. His eyes were dark, hair messy from your fingers, lips red and kiss bitten.“Fuck,” he rasped, voice hoarse. “We’re gonna cause an accident if you keep this up.”
You quickly scrambled back into the passenger seat, heart pounding, cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and lingering arousal.
Your skirt was hiked up dangerously high, and you tugged it down with shaky hands while Heeseung adjusted himself in his seat, clearly struggling to focus on the road.
He shot you a heated sideways glance, smirk returning as he pressed the gas pedal.“Almost home,” he said, voice low and promising. “Try not to jump me again until we’re inside or don’t. I'm not complaining.”
The rest of the short drive was torturous. The air in the car was thick with tension, both of you stealing glances, the memory of your grinding still fresh and electric.
When Heeseung finally pulled into the parking spot outside your shared apartment building, he killed the engine and turned to you, eyes blazing.
The second you were both out of the car, he grabbed your hand again and practically dragged you toward the entrance, the promise of what was about to happen hanging heavy between you.
The second the door to Heeseung’s apartment slammed shut behind you, all restraint vanished.He had you pinned against the wood before you could even catch your breath, mouth crashing back onto yours in a filthy, open mouthed kiss.
His hands were everywhere one sliding up under your sheer shirt to palm your breast roughly, the other gripping your ass and yanking your hips flush against the hard line of his cock already straining in his jeans.
“Been thinking about this since you walked in wearing that tiny fucking skirt,” he growled against your lips, biting your bottom lip hard enough to make you moan. “Look at you acting like such a good girl all semester and now you’re begging to get fucked in my bed.”
You didn’t deny it you couldn’t. The alcohol and weeks of pent up hatred had turned into pure, desperate need. You tugged at his shirt buttons, popping a few open in your haste, and Heeseung chuckled darkly before ripping the rest off himself.
The shirt hit the floor. Yours followed a second later, then your bralette, leaving your tits exposed to the cool air of his apartment.
Heeseung’s mouth was on your neck instantly, sucking a mark right below your jaw while his hands squeezed your breasts, thumbs flicking over your nipples until they were hard and aching. “So fucking pretty when you’re needy like this,” he muttered, voice low and rough. “Bet you’re already soaked for me, huh?”
You whimpered when he shoved the mini skirt up around your waist and cupped you over your panties. His fingers pressed against the soaked fabric, rubbing slow circles over your clit.
“Shit you are dripping already.” He smirked against your throat. “Such a dirty little secret you’ve been hiding, miss morals.”
You didn’t have time to snap back. Heeseung dropped to his knees right there in the entryway, hooked your panties to the side, and buried his face between your thighs without warning. His tongue dragged a long, nasty stripe up your pussy, groaning at the taste of you.
“Oh my god—” Your head thunked back against the door as he licked and sucked like a man starved, two fingers sliding inside you easily because you were so wet.
He curled them perfectly, pumping fast while his tongue flicked mercilessly over your clit. The sounds were obscene wet, sloppy, loud and he didn’t care. He ate you like he wanted to ruin you.
You came hard on his tongue within minutes, thighs shaking, fingers yanking at his hair as you cried out his name. Heeseung didn’t stop until you were trembling and pushing at his head, then he stood up, lips shiny with your arousal, and kissed you deep so you could taste yourself.
“Bedroom now,” he ordered.
He didn’t wait for you to walk. He grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you like you weighed nothing, carrying you down the short hallway while your legs wrapped around his waist.
Your skirt was still bunched around your hips, panties shoved to the side. You could feel his cock pressing against your soaked core with every step.
The second he kicked his bedroom door open, he dropped you onto the bed. You barely had time to bounce before he was stripping the rest of his clothes off. His jeans and boxers hit the floor and his cock sprang free—thick, hard, and already leaking at the tip.
Your mouth watered at the sight. Heeseung climbed over you, caging you in with his arms. “You want this?” he asked, voice dark, one hand stroking his cock slowly as he looked down at you. “Tell me you want it.”
“I want it,” you breathed, reaching down to wrap your hand around him. “Fuck me, Heeseung.”That was all it took.
He shoved your legs apart wider, lined himself up, and pushed in with one long, brutal thrust. You gasped at the stretch, nails digging into his shoulders as he bottomed out inside you, so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach.
“Fuck, so tight,” he groaned, forehead dropping to yours. “Taking me so well already.”Then he started moving hard fast and filthy.
The headboard slammed against the wall with every thrust, the same wall that separated your apartments. The irony wasn’t lost on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.
Heeseung fucked you like he’d been imagining this exact moment for months.Deep, punishing strokes that made your tits bounce and your breath hitch.
He grabbed one of your legs and hooked it over his shoulder, folding you in half so he could fuck you even deeper. The new angle made you cry out, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing through the room.
“Look at you,” he rasped, eyes locked on where his cock was disappearing inside you. “Taking every inch like a good little slut, who would’ve thought the girl next door gets this fucking nasty?”
The degradation was light, just enough to make your pussy clench harder around him. You moaned louder, hips trying to meet his thrusts.
Heeseung’s hand slid between your bodies, thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit while he pounded into you.
“Come on, baby. Come on my cock again, wanna feel you squeezing me.” You shattered for the second time, back arching, walls fluttering around his thick length as your orgasm crashed through you. Heeseung fucked you through it, hips never slowing, chasing his own release.
“Fuck— I’m close,” he growled, voice strained. “Where do you want it?” He asked, “Inside,” you gasped, still riding the high. “Come inside me.”
Heeseung cursed loudly, thrusting a few more brutal times before he buried himself to the hilt and came hard. You felt every pulse, every hot spurt filling you up as he groaned your name against your neck, hips jerking through the aftershocks.
For a moment the only sounds were both of you breathing hard, bodies slick with sweat.
Heeseung stayed inside you for a long minute, forehead pressed to yours, before he finally pulled out slowly. A trickle of his cum leaked out of you onto the sheets, and he watched it with dark, satisfied eyes then collapsed beside you.
Instead of pulling away, Heeseung immediately reached for you. He wrapped one strong arm around your waist and tugged you against his chest, your back flush to his front in a tight, warm hug. His other hand gently pulled the duvet up over both of you, cocooning your naked bodies in soft warmth.
You were still sticky with sweat and cum, thighs trembling, but the way he held you possessive yet surprisingly gentle made something soft flutter in your chest despite everything.
Heeseung pressed a lazy kiss to the back of your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin.“Stay,” he murmured, voice already thick with sleep as he tightened his arm around you. “Just stay.”
Exhausted, fucked out, and strangely comforted by his warmth, you let your eyes drift shut. His steady heartbeat against your back and the heavy duvet wrapped around you lulled you quickly into sleep, safe in Heeseung’s arms for the night.
ꪆ୧ ─── ドラマ. next morning !
The first thing you registered was the pounding in your head. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, the dim light filtering through unfamiliar curtains making everything feel hazy. The digital clock on the nightstand glowed red 4:28 a.m.
Your mouth was dry, throat scratchy, and a dull throb pulsed behind your temples the unmistakable aftermath of too many drinks and not nearly enough sleep. You shifted slightly under the heavy duvet, and that’s when you felt it.
A warm, solid body pressed against your back. An arm draped heavily over your waist, holding you close skin against skin. The faint scent of cologne, sweat, and something distinctly masculine filled your senses.
Your heart slammed against your ribs. Memories from last night crashed over you like ice water.
The party, the red solo cup dancing. Heeseung’s hands all over your body on the dance floor. The reckless invitation. The car ride where you’d climbed into his lap like you had no shame.
The way he’d pinned you against his door, dropped to his knees in the entryway, fucked you hard on his bed until you were crying out his name. The filthy sounds. The way he’d filled you up. The way he’d pulled you against his chest afterward, hugging you tight under the duvet as you both drifted off.
You had fucked Lee Heeseung
You had fucked your loud, cocky, insufferable neighbor the basketball captain you’d spent months complaining about, the one who called you “Miss Morals” like it was the funniest joke in the world.
Mortification burned hot through your entire body. Your stomach twisted violently. What the hell had you been thinking? The alcohol had stripped away every ounce of common sense, and now you were lying naked in his bed, his cum still faintly sticky between your thighs, his arm wrapped around you like you belonged there.
Heeseung was still sound asleep behind you, breathing deep and even, his chest rising and falling steadily against your back. His face was relaxed in sleep no smirk, no cocky grin but you knew the second he woke up, everything would change.
He would never let you live this down. The teasing would be relentless. “Miss morals” would turn into something far worse. He’d smirk every time he saw you in the hallway, make dirty little comments about how loud you’d been, how desperate you’d sounded begging for him.
The walls between your apartments were thin he’d probably bring it up every time you complained about his noise again. Your life next door would become a living hell.You couldn’t stay here.
Panic clawed up your throat. You had to leave before he woke up. Before this became real. Before he opened his eyes and looked at you with that knowing, satisfied smirk.
Carefully, so carefully, you lifted his arm from your waist. He stirred slightly but didn’t wake, murmuring something incoherent under his breath. Your heart hammered as you slowly slid out from under the duvet, the cool air hitting your naked skin and raising goosebumps.
You moved like a ghost around his room, gathering your scattered clothes as quietly as possible. Your sheer black shirt, the black bralette, the dangerously short mini skirt, your panties all crumpled on the floor where they’d been tossed in the heat of the moment.
You dressed as fast as you could, fingers trembling as you buttoned the sheer shirt and tugged the mini skirt down your thighs. Your hair was a mess, makeup probably smudged, but you didn’t care. You just needed to get out.
Barefoot, shoes in hand, you tiptoed toward the bedroom door. Every creak of the floorboards felt deafening. You glanced back once at Heeseung still asleep, one arm now stretched across the empty space where you’d been, dark hair messy against the pillow.
A strange, unwelcome pang twisted in your chest, but you shoved it down hard. This never happened.
You slipped out of his bedroom, quietly closing the door behind you. The living room was dark and silent. You navigated through the unfamiliar space, heart racing, until you reached the front door. The lock clicked softly as you turned it.
The hallway was empty and dimly lit when you stepped outside. The cool air felt like freedom. You didn’t even bother putting your shoes on yet you just hurried the few steps to your own apartment door next door, fumbling with your keys until they finally slid into the lock.
The moment you were inside, you locked the door behind you, leaned against it, and slid down to the floor, breathing hard.
Your body still ached in the best and worst ways. Thighs sore, a faint bruise forming on your hip from his grip, the ghost of his touch lingering everywhere. You could still feel him inside you, still taste the heat of his mouth.
You buried your face in your hands, mortified beyond words. What had you done?You had slept with the one person you couldn’t stand and now you had to live right next door to him, pretending it never happened.
Because if Heeseung ever found out you’d run away like this, the teasing would only get worse much, much worse. You spent the rest of that early morning in a haze of denial.
Your phone vibrated then again. You reached for it with a heavy sigh, squinting at the bright screen.
yunjin ( 3 new messages )
yunjin : babe where did u go?? one second u were dancing and then u disappeared 😭
yunjin : sunghoon said he saw u leave with someone?? pls tell me ur okay
yunjin : im worried call me when u wake up!!
soobin ( 4 new messages )
soobin : hey, you okay? you left pretty suddenly last night without telling both of us yunjin’s freaking out a bit
soobin : let me know if you got home safe
soobin : if you need anything or want to talk, i’m here no pressure
soobin : hope you’re resting well ❤️
You stared at the messages, throat tightening. The kindness in Soobin’s texts and Yunjin’s worried energy made fresh tears prick at your eyes. They had no idea what you had done. No idea you had spent the night in Heeseung’s bed, letting him touch you, kiss you, fuck you like you’d lost all common sense.
You typed back with trembling fingers, keeping it short and vague
you : got home safe, just drank too much and needed to leave early sorry for worrying you guys i’m okay, just tired talk later ❤️
You sent it and immediately turned your phone on silent, burying your face in your hands the memories wouldn’t stop replaying. Heeseung’s hands on your hips, his mouth on your neck. The way he had groaned your name when he came inside you.
How safe and warm his arms had felt when he pulled you under the duvet afterward. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push it all away this never happened.
After sliding down your front door and sitting on the cold floor for what felt like hours, you finally dragged yourself to the shower.
You scrubbed your skin until it was raw, trying to wash away every trace of Heeseung his scent, his touch, the sticky evidence of what you’d done between your thighs. The hot water did nothing to erase the soreness or the vivid flashbacks that kept playing on loop in your head.
By the time the sun came up, you had made a decision this never happened. You would bury it so deep that even you would start to believe it. No one needed to know. Not Yunjin, not Soobin, not even yourself on most days.
You would go back to normal go to classes, focus on your art curator projects, complain about the noise next door like always. And most importantly, you would avoid Lee Heeseung at all costs.
ꪆ୧ ─── ドラマ. flashback !
Heeseung stepped out of his apartment with a half empty water bottle in hand, planning to grab the last box from his car before the evening practice. The hallway was quiet until it wasn’t.
A girl came rushing around the corner, arms overloaded with a massive cardboard box that completely blocked her line of sight. She collided straight into his chest with a startled gasp.
The box flew out of her hands and crashed to the floor, spilling books, notebooks, and what looked like art supplies everywhere across the hallway carpet. Heeseung instinctively reached out and grabbed her arms to keep her from stumbling backward.
She looked up at him, flushed and clearly annoyed, strands of hair falling across her face from the chaotic move. She was pretty, sharp eyes, determined expression the kind of girl who didn’t seem impressed by campus status.
A smirk tugged at his lips before he could stop it.“Easy there, neighbor,” he drawled, voice laced with amusement. “You always run into people like you’re trying to tackle them, or am I just lucky?”
She blinked, then quickly crouched down to gather her scattered belongings, avoiding his gaze.“Sorry,” she muttered, tone tight and clipped. “Didn’t see you.”
Heeseung crouched down as well, picking up a thick book on museum curation that had slid toward his foot. He turned it over in his hands, raising an eyebrow.“Art stuff, huh?” he asked casually. “You moving in next door?”
“Yeah just today,” she replied shortly, snatching the book back from him with a little more force than necessary.
He stood up first and leaned against the wall, arms crossing over his chest as he watched her struggle to reorganize everything into the box. Most girls would have smiled, maybe even recognized him as the basketball captain.
This one? She looked like she already wanted nothing to do with him.“I’m Heeseung,” he said, flashing his most charming grin. “Lee Heeseung, your new neighbor. Need help carrying that? Looks heavy.” He offered,
“I’m good thanks,” she answered without even looking up, standing quickly and slinging the tote over her shoulder.
Heeseung didn’t move out of the way. Instead, he tilted his head, studying her with open curiosity. There was something refreshing about her indifference that it made him want to push a little harder.
“Just so you know,” he added, voice dropping into a teasing tone, “The walls here are pretty thin, try not to be too loud when you’re studying or doing whatever it is, serious art curator girls do at night.”Her eyes finally snapped up to his, narrowing with clear irritation.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said flatly. “And maybe you can try keeping your parties down some people actually have to study to pass their classes.”
Heeseung let out a low, genuine laugh that echoed down the empty hallway. She had bite and he liked that.
“Welcome to the building, miss morals,” he called after her as she turned toward her door, the nickname slipping out naturally. She didn’t respond. She fumbled with her keys, unlocked her apartment, and slipped inside without another word, the door shutting with a firm click.
Heeseung stood there for a moment longer, still grinning to himself. The girl next door already hated him, and he hadn’t even thrown his first party yet. This was going to be interesting.
The gym echoed with the sharp squeak of sneakers and the rhythmic bounce of basketballs. Afternoon practice was in full swing, but during a water break, Heeseung leaned against the bleachers, towel draped over his shoulders, a cocky grin already plastered on his face.
Jay tossed him a bottle of water. “You look way too happy for someone who just ran suicides.”Heeseung laughed, taking a long sip before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Can’t help it ran into the new neighbor again this morning.”
Beomgyu perked up immediately, spinning the ball on his finger. “The girl next door? The one who already hates your guts?”
“miss morals herself,” Heeseung confirmed, his smirk widening. “I was just leaving for practice when she came out, i told her the walls are thin and she should try not to be too loud at night. You should’ve seen her face, she looked like she wanted to throw her coffee at me.”
Jake, who was stretching nearby, let out a loud laugh. “Dude, you’re obsessed! that’s like the third time this week you’ve mentioned her.”
“I’m not obsessed,” Heeseung shot back, but his grin betrayed him. “It’s just too easy. She gets so worked up over the smallest things. Last week I had a couple of people over, nothing crazy and she banged on my door at midnight like the apartment was on fire, called me an entitled asshole who only passes because ‘daddy pays for everything.’”
The group burst into laughter. Sunghoon shook his head, amused. “She’s got balls, most girls on campus would be throwing themselves at you the second they find out you’re the captain.”
“Exactly,” Heeseung said, tossing the towel aside. “That’s what makes it fun, she doesn’t give a single fuck who I am. No flirty smiles, no asking for tickets to games, nothing. She just glares at me like I personally ruined her life by existing next door it’s hilarious.”
Beomgyu grinned mischievously. “So what’s your plan? Keep annoying her until she moves out?”
“Nah,” Heeseung replied, bouncing the ball once. “I’m just getting started, next time the music’s on, I might turn it up a little louder to see how long it takes before she comes marching over again. Bet she’ll have that cute little angry face on.”
Jake, who had been quietly listening while stretching his hamstrings, suddenly straightened up with a knowing look.“Don’t you think you’re in love with her or something?” he asked casually, but loud enough for the whole group to hear.
The gym went quiet for half a second before the guys exploded with laughter and teasing whistles. Heeseung nearly choked on his water. “What the fuck, Jake?”
Jake shrugged, completely unfazed. “Think about it, she’s literally the only girl who doesn’t give a shit about you no ego stroking, no chasing after the basketball star. She treats you like any other annoying neighbor and instead of leaving her alone, you keep poking at her like a kid with a new toy. That sounds like a crush to me.”
“Bullshit,” Heeseung scoffed, but his ears turned slightly red. He dribbled the ball harder than necessary, trying to play it cool. “I’m not in love with her, she’s just entertaining. It's fun watching her get all riled up, that’s it.”
Jay raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Sure ‘Entertaining.’ that’s why you bring her up every single practice.”
“Exactly,” Jake added with a grin. “If she suddenly started being nice to you, you’d probably be bored in a week but because she ignores you and calls you out, you can’t stop thinking about her.”
Heeseung pointed the ball at Jake threateningly, though his smirk was fighting to stay hidden. “Keep talking and I’ll make you run extra laps, Sim.”
The team laughed again, but Jake just held up his hands in surrender, still smiling. “I’m just saying, man. One day you’re gonna realize you’re not annoying her because it’s funny, you’re doing it because you like the way she fights back.”
Heeseung rolled his eyes and turned away, dribbling the ball toward the court to end the conversation. But as practice resumed and he sank a clean three pointer, Jake’s words lingered in the back of his mind longer than he wanted to admit.
Maybe there was a tiny bit of truth to it. Or maybe he just really, really enjoyed getting on your nerves.
The laughter from the team slowly died down as practice resumed. Heeseung shook off Jake’s teasing comment, channeling the slight irritation into sharper shots. He sank another clean three pointer, the ball swishing through the net with satisfying precision.
For a few minutes, the court felt like the only place where everything made sense no annoying neighbors, no complicated feelings, just the game. Then the gym doors swung open with a loud bang.
Everyone turned as a tall, sharply dressed man in a tailored coat strode in, his presence immediately sucking the casual energy out of the room. Coach paused mid instruction, nodding respectfully.
Heeseung’s stomach dropped the moment he recognized the figure his father. Mr. Lee didn’t smile. He never did when he showed up unannounced like this. His eyes scanned the court with cold calculation, lingering on Heeseung with clear disapproval.
“Take five, boys,” Coach called out, sensing the shift in atmosphere. Heeseung wiped the sweat from his brow and walked over, jaw already tight. “Dad what are you doing here?”Mr. Lee stopped a few feet away, arms folded behind his back. His voice was low but carried easily across the quiet gym.
“I came to see if my son is actually putting in the work that’s supposed to get him into the NBA,” he said flatly. “From what I’ve been hearing, it doesn’t look like it.”Heeseung’s friends lingered nearby, pretending to drink water but clearly listening.
“I’ve been at every practice,” Heeseung replied, keeping his tone even. “Coach said my shooting percentage is up this week—”
“Don’t make excuses,” his father cut him off sharply. “Your brother Heedo was never this distracted at your age, he was laser focused top scorer captainfull ride to the best program in the country. And you? You’re out here laughing with your little friends during water breaks, probably thinking about parties and girls instead of the game.”
Heeseung’s grip tightened on the basketball until his knuckles turned white.“I’m not distracted,” he said through gritted teeth. Mr.Lee stepped closer, voice dropping into that familiar, cutting tone that always found its mark.
“You’re good for nothing if you can’t even focus on what matters. All that talent wasted because you’d rather play around and act like some campus king. You think the scouts care about your popularity? they don’t, you will never be enough if you keep this up and you will certainly never be better than your brother.”
The words landed like punches. Heedo — the golden child. The one who had already made it pro overseas. The one their father never stopped comparing him to.Heeseung’s jaw clenched so hard it ached. He wanted to snap back, to defend himself, but years of this had taught him it was useless. His father never listened.
Mr. Lee straightened his coat, expression unchanging. “Fix it or don’t bother coming home for the holidays, i didn’t raise a failure.”Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked out of the gym, the heavy doors swinging shut behind him with a final, echoing thud. The silence that followed was uncomfortable.
Heeseung stood there for a moment, staring at the floor, chest tight with anger and something heavier he refused to name. The team slowly went back to practice, but the energy had shifted. Jake shot him a concerned look, but Heeseung ignored it, dribbling the ball harder than necessary as he moved back onto the court.
Inside, the familiar bitterness churned.His father’s words echoed louder than any cheering crowd ever could. You will never be enough. You will never be better than your brother. Heeseung sank another shot, but this time it didn’t feel satisfying.
All he could think about was how easy it was to annoy the girl next door because at least when she glared at him and called him an entitled asshole, he felt something other than this hollow, crushing weight.
The heavy gym doors swung shut behind Mr. Lee, leaving an awkward silence in his wake. The team tried to resume practice, but the atmosphere had soured.
Heeseung stood frozen for a few seconds, staring at the spot where his father had been. The familiar sting of those words good for nothing, never enough, never better than your brother settled heavy in his chest like lead.
Jake jogged over, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, man don’t let him get to you, your dad’s always been like that you’re killing it out here.”
“Yeah,” Beomgyu added, spinning the ball on his finger. “Ignore him, you’re the one who’s gonna make it to the NBA, not Heedo.” Jay nodded. “Come on, let’s run some more plays we’ll crush the next game.”Heeseung forced a half smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah sure.”
He went through the motions for the rest of practice dribbling, shooting, defending but he was quiet. No cocky jokes no teasing his teammates no loud laughter. Every time someone tried to pull him into conversation or hype him up after a good play, he gave short, one word replies and kept his head down. The usual spark was gone.
Even Coach noticed, shooting him concerned glances but saying nothing.The moment practice officially ended, Heeseung grabbed his bag and left first, ignoring the calls from his friends asking if he wanted to grab food. He needed air. He needed to get away from the echoes of his father’s voice.
He walked aimlessly for a while, the cool evening air doing little to clear his head. Eventually, his feet carried him toward the small café just off campus the one with decent coffee and quiet corners where he sometimes went to think.He pushed open the door, the bell jingling softly, and scanned the room out of habit and then he saw you.
You were sitting alone at a corner table near the window, surrounded by textbooks, notes, and your laptop. Your hair was tied up messily, a pen between your teeth as you frowned at something on the screen. You looked focused serious and annoyingly cute in that concentrated way of yours.
A small, familiar spark ignited in his chest the one that always appeared whenever he spotted you. Before he could think better of it, Heeseung walked straight over and slid into the seat across from you without asking.You looked up, startled at first, then your expression quickly shifted into pure annoyance.
“What the hell are you doing here?” you asked, voice sharp but low enough not to disturb the other customers. You closed your laptop slightly, glaring at him. “This is my table, go sit somewhere else.”
Heeseung leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms, that signature smirk slowly returning despite the heavy weight still sitting in his stomach. Seeing your irritated face felt lighter somehow. Easier than dealing with everything else.
“Relax, miss morals,” he said, voice teasing. “I’m not here to ruin your precious study time. Just saw you and thought I’d say hi to my favorite neighbor.”
You rolled your eyes so hard it was almost impressive. “Favorite? We barely tolerate each other and I’m trying to work unlike some people who can afford to slack off because ‘daddy can pay for everything.’”
The jab should’ve stung more, especially after his father’s visit, but instead it made Heeseung’s smirk widen. There, it was that fire. That complete lack of care for who he was or what people usually said to him. You didn’t tiptoe around him. You didn’t try to impress him. You just called him out.
It felt strangely nice. Not in a romantic way, just refreshing ( liar liar liar he is totally in love with her ) He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “Ouch straight for the throat today. What are you working on that’s got you so grumpy? Another museum thing? Planning to curate an exhibit called ‘Why Heeseung Should Shut Up’?”
You gave him a flat look, clearly not amused. “It’s for my capstone project and yes, if it helps keep loud neighbors quiet, I might include a whole section on it.”
Heeseung chuckled softly, the sound genuine even if it was quiet. For the first time since his dad had shown up, the tight knot in his chest loosened just a fraction. He realized something in that moment. Your company wasn’t bad.
In fact, sitting here watching you get all annoyed and snappy at him felt better than sitting alone with his father’s words ringing in his head. It was simple predictable in the best way. You gave him a reaction real, unfiltered and for a few minutes, it made everything else fade into the background.
He loved annoying you. Not because he wanted to hurt you but because when you pushed back, it reminded him he was still here. Still capable of feeling something other than pressure and disappointment.
“Fine,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender, though he made no move to leave. “I’ll behave for now but only if you tell me what that exhibit is actually about.” You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, clearly debating whether to kick him out or just ignore him. Heeseung waited, smirk still in place, secretly hoping you’d keep arguing with him a little longer.
ꪆ୧ ─── ドラマ. heeseung’s pov !
Heeseung woke up to a heavy, unfamiliar silence.
His eyes opened slowly, the soft gray morning light filtering through the curtains. His body felt sore in places that reminded him immediately of last night a dull ache in his shoulders, the faint stickiness between the sheets, the faint scent of sex still hanging in the air.
He turned his head to the side the bed was empty. The spot where you had been lying was cold, the pillow slightly dented but untouched now. No clothes scattered on the floor no shoes by the door nothing.
Heeseung sat up slowly, rubbing his face with both hands. The memories came back in quiet, unflinching flashes the party you in that short black skirt.The heated dancing that turned into something reckless.The desperate makeout in his car while horns blared behind you.
How he’d carried you inside, how urgently you both had moved against each other against the door, then on this bed.The way you had moaned his name.The way he had finished inside you.
And how, afterward, he had pulled you close under the duvet, your back against his chest, both of you falling asleep in silence.
Now you were gone. He glanced at the clock. 7:23 a.m. You must have woken up in a panic sometime in the early hours and slipped out while he was still asleep. The realization settled in his stomach like a stone heavy, uncomfortable, and strangely final.
Heeseung let out a long, tired breath and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He sat there for a moment, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. This was a mistake, a stupid, drunken mistake.
You had always made it clear how much you couldn’t stand him. The constant complaints about his noise, the glares in the hallway, the way you called him entitled behind his back.
Last night had been nothing more than too much alcohol and bad judgment on both sides. You waking up and running away only confirmed it.He didn’t blame you. If anything, he felt a quiet wave of regret wash over him. He should have known better.
He should have stopped things before they went that far. Now things between you two were already tense, this was going to be even more awkward.
Heeseung stood up and walked to the bathroom. While the shower heated up, he looked at himself in the mirror. There were faint scratch marks on his shoulders and a small bruise near his collarbone. Physical proof that last night had really happened.
He stepped under the hot water, letting it run over his face and shoulders. It never happened, he told himself. That was the only way forward.He would forget about it. Pretend the entire night was a blur he couldn’t quite remember.
No teasing no comments in the hallway no bringing it up ever again. You clearly wanted to erase it, and honestly so did he. The last thing he needed right now was more complications in his life especially with someone who lived right next door.
After the shower, he got dressed in a simple black t-shirt and sweatpants. He made coffee in the kitchen, moving on autopilot. The apartment felt too quiet now.
Heeseung leaned against the counter, sipping the bitter drink, and stared at the wall that separated his place from yours.From now on, things would go back to normal. You would keep avoiding him like you always did.
He would keep his music at a reasonable volume when he remembered. And neither of you would ever speak about what happened last night. It was better this way, cleaner and simpler.
He finished his coffee, rinsed the mug, and set it in the sink. Last night was a mistake and as far as Heeseung was concerned, it was already forgotten.
For the next two weeks, you turned your life into a carefully orchestrated mission of avoidance while your body slowly started betraying you in ways you couldn’t ignore. The mantra remained the same this never happened.
Every morning began the same way. Your alarm went off at 6:15 a.m., pulling you from restless sleep. The moment you sat up, a familiar wave of nausea rolled through your stomach, not violent, but persistent and queasy, making the room feel slightly off balance.
You’d sit on the edge of the bed for a few minutes, breathing slowly through your nose, waiting for it to pass. Some mornings it did. Others, you’d rush to the bathroom and dry heave over the sink, nothing coming up except bitter bile and a metallic taste that lingered on your tongue.
Once the worst of it subsided, you’d quickly get ready, choosing simple, comfortable clothes that wouldn’t draw attention. Then came the listening part. You’d press your ear to the front door, heart beating a little too fast, straining to hear any sound from Heeseung’s apartment next door.
If you caught even the faintest click of his lock or the low murmur of his voice on a phone call, you’d wait sometimes ten minutes, sometimes twenty pretending to reorganize your bag or check your notes until the hallway was silent again.
Leaving became a tactical exercise. You slipped out as quietly as possible, taking the side staircase instead of the main hallway whenever you spotted his car in the parking lot. The fatigue hit hardest during these moments.
Your legs felt heavier than usual, and by the time you reached campus, you were already drained, needing to sit down in the library for a few minutes just to catch your breath. Coming home was even more stressful.
You started timing your returns obsessively. If practice usually ended around 6 p.m., you’d stay late at the library or in an empty classroom, working on your capstone exhibition proposal until you were sure Heeseung was either out with friends or already inside. One evening, the dizziness caught you off guard.
You had just turned the corner into your hallway when the world tilted slightly. You had to lean against the wall, breathing shallowly, while a strong wave of nausea made your stomach churn.
The faint scent of someone’s dinner cooking nearby sent you rushing the last few steps to your door. The moment you got inside, you barely made it to the toilet before vomiting actual, forceful vomiting that left you trembling on the cold tile floor.
You told yourself it was stress. The constant hyper vigilance. The lack of proper sleep. The emotional weight of pretending that night had never occurred. But the symptoms kept creeping in, growing harder to dismiss.
Smells became your enemy. The aroma of coffee from the café near campus, which you used to love, now made your stomach revolt. You switched to plain crackers and ginger tea, keeping a secret stash in your bag.
Even the scent of your own shampoo sometimes triggered a gag reflex. Food tasted strange too salty, too sweet, or completely off. You lost interest in meals altogether, surviving on small portions that you could keep down.
The fatigue settled deep in your bones. You’d come home from classes, collapse on the couch, and wake up hours later feeling like you hadn’t rested at all.
Your breasts felt tender and slightly swollen, brushing against your shirt making you wince. Mood swings hit at random. One minute you were focused on your work, the next you felt inexplicably teary or irritable. All of this made the avoidance even more draining.
One Thursday night, your timing failed you had stayed late at the library, hoping Heeseung would already be inside. When you finally dragged your tired body back to the building, the hallway lights felt blindingly bright.
Just as you reached your door, fumbling with your keys, you heard the unmistakable click of his lock opening.Panic surged through you. Your hands shook so badly that the keys nearly dropped. You managed to slip inside just as his door opened, pressing your back against the wood, heart hammering wildly.
You held your breath, listening to his footsteps pass by. The moment they faded, the nausea hit like a wave. You barely made it to the bathroom before throwing up again, knees weak, tears stinging your eyes from the force of it.
Afterward, you sat on the bathroom floor with your forehead resting on your knees, breathing shakily. This was getting worse.You were exhausted from the constant calculation when to leave, when to return, which route to take, how long to wait in the stairwell. The thin wall between your apartments felt like a constant threat.
You’d hear him moving around sometimes. The low sound of his music ( mercifully quieter these days ), the murmur of his voice when he was on the phone, the occasional laugh. Every sound made your stomach twist with anxiety and unwelcome memories.
You became hyper aware of everything. You avoided cooking anything with strong smells. You did laundry at 2 a.m. when you were sure he was asleep. You even changed the time you took showers, worried the sound of running water might coincide with him coming home.
Yunjin and Soobin noticed the changes. “You’ve been canceling plans a lot,” Yunjin said during one quick lunch. “And you look really tired, are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” you lied, forcing a weak smile while fighting the nausea brought on by the smell of her food. “Just stressed about the capstone deadline it’s taking everything out of me.”
Soobin watched you quietly, concern clear in his eyes, but he didn’t push. Inside your apartment, the symptoms continued to build.
Mornings were brutal. You’d wake up with tender breasts and that persistent queasy feeling. Some days the vomiting was so bad you had to keep a small bucket discreetly by your bed.
The fatigue made it hard to focus during lectures. You'd find yourself zoning out, head heavy, fighting the urge to lay your head on the desk. Yet you refused to connect the dots .It’s just stress, you told yourself repeatedly. The avoidance the guilt the lack of sleep.
You pushed through, continuing your careful dance of avoidance. You timed every exit and entry with military precision. You became an expert at predicting Heeseung’s schedule ( she should become a dispatch employee )
You kept your headphones on to drown out any sound from next door. You buried yourself in your art curator work, sketching exhibition layouts late into the night until your eyes burned.Two full weeks passed in this strange limbo.
You were pale, exhausted, and constantly on edge. The nausea came in unpredictable waves. The fatigue made simple tasks feel monumental. And the fear of accidentally seeing Heeseung in the hallway kept you trapped in this self imposed isolation.
Deep down, a small, terrified voice in the back of your mind whispered that something was very wrong. But you silenced it the same way you silenced every memory of that night this never happened.
You would keep avoiding him. You would keep pretending everything was normal.Even as your body screamed louder and louder that nothing was normal anymore.
One ordinary afternoon, everything shifted. You were sitting in the small campus café with Yunjin and Soobin, the three of you squeezed around a corner table. Yunjin was dramatically slumped in her chair, one hand pressed to her lower stomach, complaining loudly.
“Ugh, my period is literally killing me today,” she groaned, stirring her iced latte with a pout. “Cramps are so bad, I can barely sit straight why does it always hit the worst during the worst season? I swear my uterus hates me.”
Soobin chuckled softly, offering her a sympathetic smile. “Do you want me to grab you some painkillers from the convenience store?” You tried to smile and nod along, but the words barely registered.
Her period is killing her…..
The sentence echoed in your head like a siren your own period. You mentally counted the days. It should have come a full week ago. Seven days late. Maybe more.
You had been so caught up in avoiding Heeseung, dealing with the constant nausea, fatigue, and vomiting that you hadn’t even noticed the date slipping by. Your heart started beating faster.
You pulled out your phone under the table and quietly opened your cycle tracking app. The screen glowed with the familiar calendar. A bright red notification stared back at you
period : 7 days late
You stared at the words until they blurred. No no, no, no. You tried to push the thought away immediately. It had to be stress. The irregular sleep, the constant anxiety of avoiding Heeseung, the vomiting all of it could easily throw your cycle off. That was normal right?
But then the symptoms started flashing through your mind like warning lights. The persistent nausea every morning. The vomiting that left you weak on the bathroom floor. The crushing fatigue that made it hard to stay awake in lectures.
The dizziness, sensitivity to smells, tender, swollen breasts. Your stomach dropped, could you be pregnant?
The word felt foreign and terrifying in your head. No. Absolutely not. You wouldn’t get pregnant from one night. One reckless, stupid night. People had unprotected sex all the time and nothing happened.
You were on the pill…wait, were you? You had been so stressed with midterms that you couldn’t even remember if you had taken it properly that week. The thought made bile rise in your throat again.
Across the table, Yunjin and Soobin were still talking something about upcoming assignments and a group project. Their voices sounded far away, like you were underwater.You couldn’t focus on a single word they were saying. Your mind was spinning, heart pounding so hard you were sure they could hear it.
Yunjin waved a hand in front of your face. “Hello? Earth to you! you’ve been spacing out the entire time are you okay?”You blinked, forcing yourself back to the present. Your mouth felt dry.
“I—yeah, sorry just tired,” you mumbled. “Guys, I think I’m gonna head home early today my head’s killing me.”Soobin frowned, concern clear in his eyes. “Do you want me to walk you back?”“No, it’s fine,” you said quickly, already standing up and grabbing your bag. “I’ll text you later promise.”
You left the café before they could protest, walking fast, then almost jogging once you were out of sight. The nausea was back, stronger now, mixing with pure terror. Your hands were shaking as you headed straight for the small convenience store two blocks away.
Inside the store, you felt like every camera was watching you. You moved quickly through the aisles, heart hammering, until you found the family planning section. There were several pregnancy test kits.
You grabbed the most reliable looking one with trembling fingers, not even reading the brand properly. The cashier gave you a neutral look as you paid, but you couldn’t meet her eyes.
Bag clutched tightly to your chest, you practically ran the entire way back to your apartment building. You took the side stairs again, praying Heeseung wasn’t around. The moment you were inside your own apartment, you locked the door twice and leaned against it, breathing hard.
You pulled the kit out of the bag with shaking hands. The box felt heavy dangerous. You read the instructions carefully, twice. Pee on the stick. Wait three minutes. One line = not pregnant. Two lines = pregnant simple but terrifying.
You went to the bathroom, heart pounding so loudly it echoed in your ears. You followed every step exactly, hands trembling so badly you almost dropped the test. When you were done, you placed the stick on the counter and set a timer on your phone three minutes.
You paced the small bathroom, arms wrapped tightly around yourself. Every second felt like an hour. The nausea was back, but this time it had nothing to do with morning sickness. It was pure fear.
What if it was positive?
What if you were actually pregnant with Heeseung’s baby?
The thought made your knees weak. You slid down the wall until you were sitting on the cold tile floor, staring at the test on the counter like it was a bomb about to go off.The timer was still counting down.
Two minutes left. You hugged your knees to your chest, eyes fixed on the small plastic stick that now, held your entire future in two little lines. You were so scared.
The timer on your phone hit zero with a soft chime that felt deafening in the small bathroom. You stayed frozen on the cold tile floor for several long seconds, knees drawn to your chest, staring at the pregnancy test lying face up on the counter like it was a live grenade.
Slowly, you pushed yourself up on shaky legs and stepped closer. One line was already dark and clear the control line. The second line was faint at first, but unmistakable. A pale pink line slowly darkening right beside the first one.
two lines = positive
You blinked hard, once, twice, as if the result would magically change if you stared long enough.“No…” you whispered, voice cracking. “No, that can’t be right.”Denial crashed over you like a wave. You snatched the test off the counter and held it closer to the light, turning it at different angles. Maybe it was a faulty test.
Maybe the line was an evaporation line. Maybe you had read the instructions wrong. You grabbed the box again and reread the instructions three more times, your hands trembling so badly the paper shook.
But no matter how many times you checked, the two lines stared back at you, clear and undeniable. It was positive. You were pregnant. The reality slammed into you all at once.
Your knees buckled. You sank back down to the bathroom floor, the test still clutched tightly in your hand. A sob tore out of your throat before you could stop it. Hot tears spilled down your cheeks as the full weight of what this meant crashed over you.
You were pregnant with Heeseung’s baby. The boy you couldn’t stand. The neighbor you had spent months avoiding. The one person you had sworn to pretend never touched you.
A broken sound escaped you half sob, half laugh of pure disbelief. Your free hand moved instinctively to your stomach, pressing lightly against the still flat surface. There was a life growing inside you right now. A tiny, real consequence of one reckless, drunken night.
The crying came harder. You curled in on yourself, forehead resting on your knees as sobs wracked your body. All the symptoms you had tried to blame on stress the nausea, the vomiting, the fatigue, the dizziness suddenly made perfect, terrifying sense.
You were going to have a baby. And the father was the last person on earth you wanted to be tied to. After several long minutes, the tears slowed, leaving you drained and hollow. You wiped your face with the back of your hand, staring blankly at the two pink lines.
You made a decision right there on the bathroom floor. You were not telling Heeseung anything, not a single word.He didn’t need to know. He would never know. Telling him would only make everything worse the teasing, the drama, the forced proximity, the endless complications with someone you already couldn’t stand.
You could barely handle living next door to him as it was. Bringing a child into that mess was unthinkable. This was your problem. Your body, your choice. You would handle it quietly. You would get rid of it.The thought made fresh tears sting your eyes, but you forced them back. There was no other option.
You were still in school, chasing your dream of becoming an art curator. Your life was barely stable right now. A baby, especially one with Heeseung as the father would ruin everything.
You stayed on the floor for a long time, clutching the test, letting the weight of the decision settle over you.
Eventually, you stood up on unsteady legs. You wrapped the test in toilet paper and hid it deep in the trash can under some tissues. You washed your face with cold water until the redness in your eyes faded a little.
You looked at your reflection pale, exhausted, terrified and whispered to yourself “This never happened.” You would schedule an. appointment. You would end this quietly.You would move on with your life and never speak of that night again.
But as you turned off the bathroom light and stepped into your silent apartment, the weight in your chest felt heavier than ever. You were pregnant. And for the first time since that night, the wall between you and Heeseung felt like it was closing in.
The decision sat heavy in your chest like a stone. You weren’t going to tell Heeseung. You were going to end this quietly and move on with your life. The very next morning, you tried to make the appointment.
You sat on your bed with your laptop open, hands shaking as you searched for clinics near campus that offered termination services. Your stomach was already churning with nausea again, but you forced yourself to focus.
You found a few options a women’s health clinic downtown and a Planned Parenthood branch about twenty minutes away. You clicked on the booking page for the first one. The form asked for your name, date of birth, contact number, and reason for visit.
Your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a long time. You couldn’t do it. Every time you tried to type your real information, panic surged through you. What if someone recognized your name? What if the clinic called or sent confirmation texts while you were near Heeseung?
What if the appointment somehow got back to campus gossip? The thought of walking into a clinic alone, explaining your situation to a stranger, and going through with it made your throat close up.
You closed the laptop without saving anything. You told yourself you’d try again tomorrow when you felt calmer. But tomorrow came and went. Then the next day. And the next. Meanwhile, the symptoms grew worse.
The nausea was no longer just morning sickness it hit you at random times throughout the day. The smell of food in the cafeteria made you gag. Even walking past the coffee shop near campus triggered violent waves that left you rushing to the nearest bathroom.
You started carrying saltine crackers and a small bottle of ginger ale everywhere, but they barely helped anymore.
Vomiting became more frequent. One afternoon during a lecture, you had to excuse yourself midway through and barely made it to the restroom before throwing up.
You returned to class pale and sweaty, mumbling something about food poisoning when Yunjin looked at you worriedly.
Fatigue wrapped around you like a heavy blanket. You fell asleep in the library twice that week, waking up with your cheek stuck to your notebook. Simple tasks like climbing the stairs to your apartment left you breathless and dizzy.
Your breasts were constantly tender, and your mood swung wildly one moment you were numb, the next you felt like crying over nothing. Yunjin and Soobin started noticing. During lunch on Thursday, Yunjin set her chopsticks down and stared at you.
“Okay, something is seriously wrong,” she said, voice firm but concerned. “You’ve been looking like a ghost for days, you barely eat anything, you keep disappearing to the bathroom, and you look exhausted even when you say you slept are you sick? Is it stress? Talk to us.”
Soobin nodded, his gentle eyes filled with worry. “You’ve been canceling plans and spacing out a lot. If something’s going on, you don’t have to deal with it alone. We’re here.”You forced a weak smile, pushing your untouched food around your plate. The smell of it was making you nauseous again.
“I’m okay, really,” you lied, voice quieter than usual. “Just… really behind on my capstone. The deadline is stressing me out more than I thought. I’ll be fine once I catch up.”
They didn’t look convinced, but they let it drop for the moment. Still, you could feel their eyes on you for the rest of the meal. Even Heeseung started noticing something was off.
You had managed to avoid direct contact with him for weeks, but it was impossible to hide everything when you lived next door.
One evening, you were coming home later than usual after another failed attempt to book the appointment online. You felt dizzy and nauseous, moving slowly up the hallway with your keys already in hand. As you reached your door, Heeseung’s door opened.
He stepped out, wearing a simple black hoodie, hair slightly messy like he’d just come back from practice. His eyes landed on you immediately.
You froze for half a second, then quickly turned your face away and fumbled with your lock, trying to get inside before he could say anything. But Heeseung didn’t tease you this time.
Instead, he paused in his doorway, brow slightly furrowed as he watched you. You looked pale. Thinner. There were dark circles under your eyes, and the way you moved seemed off fragile.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. For once, the usual cocky remark didn’t come.“You good?” he asked quietly, voice lacking its normal edge.
You didn’t answer. You finally got the door open and slipped inside without looking at him, shutting it quickly behind you
Heeseung stood there for a moment longer, staring at your closed door with a strange, unsettled feeling in his chest. Something wasn’t right with you. He could see it.But after everything after that night you both had silently agreed to forget he didn’t know if he had the right to ask.
Inside your apartment, you leaned against the door, breathing hard. Fresh tears stung your eyes as another wave of nausea hit you. You slid down to the floor, hugging your knees. You still hadn’t been able to book the appointment.
The symptoms were getting worse every day, your friends were worried and now even Heeseung had noticed something was wrong. You pressed your forehead to your knees, whispering to yourself again and again
“This never happened… this never happened…” But the lie was starting to feel impossible to keep. Heeseung had noticed. For the past two weeks, it had become painfully obvious that you were avoiding him like the plague.
At first, he thought it was the usual the cold shoulder after that night you both had silently agreed to forget. But it quickly went beyond that. You timed your movements with military precision.
He would hear your door open and close at odd hours, always when he was either inside or already gone. You took the side stairs. You left earlier than usual in the mornings and came back much later at night.
Even at university, catching a glimpse of you had become nearly impossible. You seemed to disappear into the library or empty classrooms the moment practice ended.It was clear you were doing everything in your power to never cross paths with him.
Heeseung told himself it didn’t bother him. He had decided to forget that night too. No teasing. No bringing it up. Just normal or as normal as things could be when you lived right next door
But something was wrong. You looked terrible lately. He first noticed it in passing the dark circles under your eyes, the way your shoulders seemed to slump with exhaustion. Then it got worse you moved slower.
Your face was paler than usual. You barely left your apartment except for classes, and even then you looked like you were running on empty.
One evening, after a long basketball practice, Heeseung was walking back to the apartment building, gym bag slung over his shoulder. The sun had already set, and the streetlights cast long shadows on the path. That’s when he saw you.
You were a few meters ahead, heading toward the entrance. Your steps were unsteady, one hand pressed lightly against the wall for support.
Even from behind, he could tell something was very wrong. Your posture was slumped, your breathing looked shallow, and you looked like you were barely holding yourself upright.
Heeseung’s stomach tightened. He quickened his pace without thinking and caught up to you just as you reached the building door.“Hey,” he said, voice low and serious, no trace of his usual teasing tone. “Are you alright?”
You turned your head slightly, eyes glassy and tired. The moment you recognized him, your expression hardened.“I don’t have time for your teasing right now, Heeseung,” you muttered weakly, trying to push past him toward the elevator.
Heeseung felt a flash of annoyance, not because you were dismissing him, but because he was genuinely worried and you clearly didn’t believe it.“I’m not teasing,” he said, more sharply than he intended. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
You didn’t respond, just kept walking toward the elevator. Heeseung followed, stepping in right after you. The doors closed, trapping the two of you in the small space. The silence was thick and uncomfortable. He could hear your breathing too fast, too shallow.
When the elevator reached your floor, you stepped out first. But the moment your feet hit the hallway, your legs buckled. You swayed dangerously, one hand reaching out blindly for the wall as the world spun around you. Heeseung moved fast.
He dropped his gym bag and caught you before you could hit the floor, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other supporting your back. Your body went limp against him for a few terrifying seconds.
“Shit—” he muttered, heart pounding. “Hey, stay with me.” You were half conscious, mumbling something incoherent about being fine. Heeseung didn’t waste time arguing. He adjusted his grip and lifted you carefully into his arms in bridal style, your head lolling against his shoulder.
Your apartment was right next to his. He fumbled for a moment with your keys ( which had fallen from your hand ) until he managed to unlock the door. He carried you inside, kicking the door shut behind him, and headed straight for your bedroom.
The room was neat but clearly lived in textbooks stacked on the desk, a half finished sketch on the table, a small trash can near the bed. Heeseung gently laid you down on the bed, pulling the blanket over you. Your face was pale, forehead slightly damp with sweat.
He stood there for a moment, unsure what to do. You looked so small and fragile like this. Nothing like the fiery girl who used to bang on his door and call him an entitled asshole.
Heeseung grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen and placed it on your nightstand. Then he pulled up the chair from your desk and sat down beside the bed, watching you carefully.
Your breathing slowly evened out. The tension in your face relaxed as you slipped into a deeper sleep. Heeseung stayed there, elbows on his knees, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t know what was going on with you.
He didn’t know why you looked so sick. He didn’t even know if you’d want him here when you woke up. But right now, leaving you alone didn’t feel like an option. So he stayed quietly waiting.
Until your breathing became steady and deep, and he was sure you were fully asleep. Heeseung stayed. He told himself he’d only wait until you fell into a proper sleep, but the longer he sat there watching your pale face and shallow breathing, the harder it became to leave.
You looked exhausted, truly exhausted in a way that went beyond simple tiredness. Dark circles under your eyes, lips slightly chapped, skin lacking its usual color. Something was clearly wrong, and the protective instinct he didn’t know he had kept him rooted to the chair.
After almost an hour, when your breathing had deepened into steady, even inhales, Heeseung stood up quietly. He couldn’t just sit there doing nothing. He moved silently through your apartment, careful not to make noise.
Your kitchen was small and neat, but the fridge was nearly empty a few bottles of water, some crackers, and not much else. Heeseung frowned. No wonder you looked so drained. He opened the cupboards and found rice, a couple of eggs, and some ginger.
Simple gentle on the stomach. He decided to make congee something light that his mom used to make for him when he was sick.
He worked quietly, chopping what little he could find, boiling water, and stirring the pot on low heat. The smell of ginger and warm rice slowly filled the small apartment. He hoped it would help when you woke up. Maybe it would make you feel a little better.
He kept glancing toward the bedroom every few minutes, making sure you were still resting. Almost two hours later, you started stirring.
Heeseung was just turning off the stove when he heard movement from the bedroom. He poured some congee into a bowl, added a bit of water to make it lighter, and was about to bring it to you when
You bolted upright in bed, eyes wide with sudden panic. The smell of the food hit you like a wave. Your face went even paler, hand flying to your mouth as nausea surged violently. Heeseung’s eyes widened. “Hey—”
You didn’t wait. You scrambled off the bed on shaky legs and ran straight to the bathroom, barely making it in time.
Heeseung followed right behind you, worry spiking through his chest. He reached the bathroom door just as you dropped to your knees in front of the toilet and started throwing up violently.
“Shit—” He moved quickly, kneeling beside you without hesitation. One hand gently gathered your hair, holding it back from your face. His other hand rubbed slow, soothing circles on your back. “It’s okay I’ve got you, just breathe.”
You retched again, body trembling with the force of it. Heeseung stayed right there, murmuring quiet reassurances, his hand never stopping its gentle motion on your back.
When the worst of it seemed to pass, he reached over and flushed the toilet, then grabbed a clean towel from the rack and dampened it with cool water.“Here,” he said softly, handing you the towel. “Wipe your face.”
You took it with trembling hands, still breathing hard. Heeseung stood up briefly to get a glass of water from the sink and brought it back to you.“Small sips,” he instructed, crouching down again. “Don’t drink too fast.”
While you rinsed your mouth and took careful sips, Heeseung’s eyes wandered around the small bathroom, looking for anything that might help. His gaze landed on the trash can beside the sink. Something white and plastic was poking out from under some tissues.
Curious, he reached down and pulled it out, it was a pregnancy test. Two distinct red lines stared back at him clear, unmistakable, and positive. Heeseung froze.
His brain short circuited for a second. The test felt heavy in his hand as the reality sank in. Positive you were pregnant. He slowly turned his head toward you. You were already looking at him.
Your eyes were wide with pure terror, face drained of all color, lips parted in shock. You looked caught completely and utterly caught like the worst secret in the world had just been ripped open. The glass of water trembled in your hand.
Heeseung’s mouth opened, but no words came out at first. His gaze flicked between the test in his hand and your terrified expression.
The pieces clicked together horribly fast the avoidance, the exhaustion, the vomiting, the way you looked like you were barely holding yourself together for the past two weeks.
This wasn’t just stress this was because of that night because of him. Heeseung swallowed hard, his voice coming out quieter than he expected.
“…Is this yours?” The bathroom fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. You were still staring at him, tears already gathering in your eyes again, looking like you wanted the floor to swallow you whole.
Heeseung didn’t know what to say. He only knew that everything had just changed. Heeseung stared at the two red lines on the pregnancy test for what felt like an eternity.
The bathroom was deathly quiet except for your shaky breathing. When he finally looked up at you, your face was pale, eyes wide with pure terror, tears already spilling down your cheeks. He swallowed hard, his throat tight.
“…Are you pregnant?” he asked, voice low and rough. You didn’t speak at first. Your lips trembled as fresh tears rolled down your face. Then you gave a small, barely noticeable nod.
Heeseung felt something twist sharply in his chest. He looked back down at the test, then at you again. His next question came out quieter, almost hesitant.
“Is the baby mine?” The moment the words left his mouth, your face crumpled completely. You broke into heavy, broken sobs, shoulders shaking as you tried to cover your mouth with one hand.
“I’m sorry…” you choked out between cries. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t want this to happen, i never meant for any of this, it was just one stupid night and I— I’m planning on getting rid of it. I won’t bother you with any of this, i won’t get in your way. You don’t have to worry about anything, i’ll handle it quietly.”
Heeseung’s expression shifted the instant you said those words. Hurt flashed across his face raw, unguarded hurt. His brows drew together, jaw tightening as he processed what you were saying.
The idea that you were planning to terminate the pregnancy without even telling him felt like a punch to the gut. His hand holding the test lowered slowly to his side. You kept crying, words tumbling out faster now, desperate and apologetic.
“I’m really sorry. I know you didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for this either, i’ll take care of everything. You can just forget about it…i promise I won’t drag you into anything.”
Heeseung stayed silent for a long moment, staring at you as you sat on the bathroom floor, looking small and devastated.
The hurt in his chest mixed with something heavier confusion, disbelief, and a strange ache he couldn’t quite name. Finally, his voice came out low and strained.
synopsis: in which your best friend finally stops pretending, and one confession ruins your oblivious friendship for good.
genre: best friends au
pairing: best friend!jake x oblivious!reader
warnings: jealous!jake, possessive!jake, touchy!jake, hard dom!jake, dub-con-ish, jake is strong, manhandling, groping, messy makeout, biting, tit play, oral (f.rec), spanking pussy + tits + ass, face slap, clit play, fingering, masterbation (m.), cock slapping? he cums on readers face, light bondage, unprotected p in v, creampie, some cuteness at the end to tie it all together!!
wc: 11.7k+
a/n: yall asked and yall have received. this one by a LANDSLIDE on the pole i put out a few days ago and lucky yall i was already like 3/4 done w this fic anyways. this is literally pure filth and i had sm fun writing this. bsf jake is literally what keeps me going istg. anyways…hope yall enjoy! as always notes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated!!
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you're sitting cross-legged on jake's bed, a carton of pad thai balanced dangerously on your knee, ranting about your latest situationship like it's a normal tuesday night and not a personal attack on his blood pressure.
jake is leaning against the headboard beside you, one arm casually draped behind your back—not even touching you, just hovering, like he's ready to pull you into him at any second.
he's acting like he's listening, nodding at the right beats, but his eyes keep dropping to the hem of your shorts. they're barely shorts at this point, basically denim underwear, and every time you shift, they ride up higher. he's suffering quietly.
"so then he ghosted me for two days," you say, stabbing your fork into a noodle like you're reenacting a murder. "and suddenly he texts me like nothing happened. men are insane."
jake's jaw ticks in mild frustration, he forces a shrug. "yeah, he sounds... busy. maybe he has a lot on his plate."
i don't care. i don't care. i don't care. his mind is in absolute shambles right now.
you blink at him, annoyed. "you told me last week that guys who disappear like that 'should step on a lego and rethink their life choices.'"
"well," he says slowly, eyes flicking to your bare thigh before snapping back up, "maybe stepping on a lego would give him perspective. doesn't mean he's bad. just... confused."
he's giving terrible, contradictory advice on purpose, trying to gently sabotage any chance of you forgiving this man. but you miss all of it, too focused on your rant and your noodles.
you shove another bite into your mouth and keep talking, oblivious. jake's hand drops from behind you to your thigh, warm and heavy as he gives it a little squeeze—casual, friendly, like he's always done that. because he has. because jake has made touching you look normal for years.
you don't even flinch when you feel his grip tighten on you slightly. "do you think i should give him another chance?"
jake stares at you, expression flat. "no." that shouldn't even be a question, you shouldn't give any man who isn't him a chance.
"but you just said—"
"i lied," he says plainly. "don't date him. he's... not your type."
"you don't know my type."
jake scoffs, watching a noodle you failed to keep on your fork land on your thigh. "i know everything about you." he watches your expression morph into one of defeat before he's reaching his fingers out to grab the stray noodle and sneak it into his mouth.
and he does, jake knew you like the back of his hand, painfully so.
you stretch your legs out, half laying against him, your head dropping onto his shoulder like it's instinct. jake stiffens for half a second before melting, his body curving around yours like he was designed to hold you.
"ugh," you groan. "why can't i just find someone normal?"
jake stares at the top of your head, his fingers brushing absently along the inside of your knee, tracing small circles like it's nothing. like he isn't one wrong move from losing his mind.
he clears his throat. "maybe you're just looking in the wrong places."
"where am i supposed to look?" you mumble, mouth full again.
"i dunno," he says, gaze locked on the way your lips wrap around your fork, "maybe... closer."
you don't catch it, of course you don't.
instead you just scoot even closer to him, thigh pressing against his, stealing some of his fries like you always do. jake lets you, leaning into the touch, smelling your shampoo, watching as another stray noodle falls onto your shirt. he plucks it off without hesitation, choosing to flick it away this time.
you laugh. "thanks, mom."
"i'll remember you said that next time you're crying about someone ghosting you."
you hit his arm lightly but he catches your wrist, fingers wrapping around it, thumb rubbing lazily over your skin. he's smiling but his eyes are sharp, warm, lingering—like he's memorizing the way you feel under his hand.
but you don't notice a thing. you're already going on about another red flag your situationship displayed, gesturing wildly while still half in his lap.
jake just watches, letting you rant, letting you lean into him, letting you stretch out across his bed like you own it. like you own him.
and honestly? you do.
"you're too good to me," you sigh dramatically, looking over at your best friend.
jake laughs under his breath, low and a little bitter. "yeah," he says quietly. "i know."
your phone buzzes beside your thigh.
jake's eyes snap to it before you even glance down. the name flashing on your screen makes his entire body go rigid. it's the situationship idiot —the one who's been ghosting you, breadcrumbing you, ruining jake's sanity for weeks.
you reach for the phone but jake is faster. he snatches it first, holding it above his head like a relic he plans to yeet into the sun.
"jake!" you shout, scrambling into his lap to grab it. "give it back!"
the position shouldn't be normal. it shouldn't be casual. but you've done this a thousand times— climbing over him, knee pressed between his legs, one hand braced on his chest as you stretch up to reach.
your t-shirt barely hides the curve of your chest, you were practically smothering his face—and jake didn't mind it one bit.
jake swallows so hard he might choke. "why do you need to text him back right now?" he asks, voice too calm to be real.
"because he messaged me," you say, fingers grazing the phone but not grabbing it.
jake's eyes flick down, you're straddling him. you don't notice but he absolutely does.
his hands curl around your waist automatically, steadying you like he's afraid you'll fall—or like he's afraid he'll let go.
"you can reply after we finish eating," he tries again. "or in... a week."
"jake."
"what?" he says, blinking innocently. "i'm helping."
you finally get a grip on your phone and tug it out of his hand. he lets it go, but reluctantly, like he's handing you a loaded weapon.
you drop back onto the bed, legs still draped over his, and open the message.
jake leans over your shoulder immediately, chin practically resting on you. "what'd he say?" he mutters, eyes narrowed like he's assessing a threat.
you read aloud, "he said: sorry i disappeared, things have been crazy at work. i wanna make it up to you. drinks this weekend?"
"i'm being honest," he shoots back. "he's a loser. you shouldn't go."
you look up at him. "and why not?"
he holds your gaze for a beat too long—warm brown eyes, pupils blown a little, intensity simmering just below the surface.
then he shrugs, voice low. "you're gonna get your feelings hurt. again. and then i'll have to listen to you cry. again. and you ugly-cry, so that's an extra layer of torture for me."
you gasp. "i do NOT ugly-cry."
jake just raises a brow. you don't, you look pretty when you cry. jake quite enjoys the flushed look on your face, but it aches him that your crying over losers and not because his dick isn't down your throat.
you throw a pillow at him. he catches it, smirking, then lays down fully on his back, arms spread like he's claiming the entire mattress.
you fall beside him automatically, head splayed over one of his arms.
he turns his head toward you, eyes soft. "don't go."
you freeze. "what?"
"don't go on the date," he repeats softly, almost gentle. "just... stay here instead. with me."
you laugh it off, nudging his shoulder. "jake, i'm not ditching someone for movie night."
"ditch him for me," he says, no hesitation. "you do it all the time."
you blink, he's right. you absolutely do.
you've cancelled plans—actual plans—because jake didn't want to watch a movie alone, or because he was bored, or because he wanted boba at midnight and didn't want to walk alone.
but that was different, that was friendship. obviously.
"you're being clingy today," you tease lightly, pulling at the sleeve of his shirt.
"i'm always clingy," he says. "you just never notice."
he says it like a joke, but it lands too heavy.
your phone buzzes again. before you can even move, jake flips onto his stomach, throws an arm across your waist, and physically pins you to the bed.
you let out a small squeal at his sudden actions, squirming in his hold. "enough," he mutters into your shoulder. "if he texts you one more time, i'm blocking him."
"you can't just—"
"watch me."
you're half laughing, half exasperated, half aware that his entire body is pressed over yours, warm and solid and familiar.
you shove at him weakly. "get off, you menace."
"no," he mumbles. "you're comfy."
"jake..."
he lifts his head slightly, eyelashes brushing your skin. his voice drops to something almost vulnerable—something that slips out before he can stop it.
"just stay with me tonight."
your breath stutters and he feels it. he looks away immediately, pretending he didn't say anything real. you pretend you didn't hear something real.
the phone buzzes again. jake tightens his arm around you, jaw clenched.
you don't move this time and jake... jake notices.
jake's arm is still wrapped around your waist, heavy and warm, like he's trying to anchor you to him. you should probably get up or at least check your phone.
but you don't and that tiny decision ruins his self-control.
you feel him exhale against your neck, slow and shaky, like he doesn't want you to notice. his fingers—resting right at the curve of your waist—start tracing thoughtless circles into your shirt. lazy, slow, claiming circles. the kind that send a little shiver down your spine.
jake feels it. his hand stills for half a second... then starts again, softer this time, more deliberate.
you're too busy pretending to scroll through food delivery apps to process it.
"what're you doing?" you mumble, a subtle flush coating your cheeks.
"touching you," he answers bluntly, like it's the most normal thing in the world.
it is normal for him, he's always touchy. always grabbing your wrist, fixing your hair, pulling you by the waist, resting his head on your lap when he's tired.
you don't think twice. but tonight? tonight he's different.
his hand slides from your waist to your hip, fingers curling loosely into the fabric of your shorts. not enough to be inappropriate, just enough to make your breath catch.
he hears it. "you okay?" he asks, voice low, almost smug.
"just hungry," you lie, a terrible lie at that. you had just devoured take away minutes ago.
he laughs softly against your shoulder, his nose brushing your skin. that alone sends heat shooting straight through you—something you ignore immediately.
"hungry for what?" he teases, catching onto your lie.
you shove his arm weakly. "food, idiot."
"mm. sure."
he doesn't move away. instead, he shifts closer—practically molding himself to your side. his thigh slides against yours, his knee nudging between your legs just slightly as he gets comfortable. accidentally. or maybe not, you can't tell.
your heart stutters. jake notices everything,
especially things you don't realize you're doing.
he props himself up on one elbow, hovering over you a bit, his hand brushing your ribcage as he pushes your hair out of your face.
"you got sauce on your cheek," he murmurs.
you reach up to wipe it but he catches your wrist mid-air.
"i got it."
and then—way too gently—he uses his thumb to wipe the corner of your mouth. except his thumb lingers, longer than necessary. brushing your lip once, twice, slow enough that you swear he's doing it on purpose.
your chest tightens, you force a laugh. "okay mom."
jake's eyes flick down to your mouth. his thumb leaves your lip, but he doesn't pull his hand away. he lets it drift along your jaw, curling lightly behind your ear, like he's pushing your hair back just to keep touching you.
"do moms do this?" he asks quietly. the tone—warm, teasing, dangerously soft—makes your stomach flip.
he leans in just a little closer. close enough that you feel his breath when he talks.
"or this?"
his hand slides from behind your ear, down your neck, thumb stroking your pulse point for the briefest second.
you freeze. your phone buzzes. again.
jake's jaw flexes, and his hand drops to your waist, grip tightening possessively.
"you gonna get that?" he says, barely masking annoyance.
"i... dunno," you mumble.
"good," jake whispers, leaning in until his forehead almost touches yours. "don't."
his fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt this time, barely there, just the pads of his fingertips brushing your bare waist. testing. waiting to see if you'll pull away.
you don't and that's all he needs.
he lets out a small breath—relief, disbelief, hunger—then slides his hand fully onto your skin, warm and steady on your waist, thumb tracing slow circles again, this time deliberate. claiming.
"you're staying with me tonight," he murmurs, voice low and rough around the edges.
you swallow hard. "jake..."
"no," he says, shaking his head just slightly. "don't say my name like that."
"like what?"
"like you don't know what you're doing to me."
your heart stops. the room feels too quiet. too warm. too intimate. and jake... jake is staring at you like he's wanted to say that for years.
your heart is beating stupidly fast. the room feels too quiet. too warm. too charged.
jake's hand is still under your shirt, his thumb tracing slow, burning circles on your bare waist. he's hovering over you, eyes pinned to yours, and for a second—just a second—you swear something is about to happen. something irreversible.
his gaze drops to your lips and your breath catches.
you don't move and jake—jake looks like he's seconds away from doing something he's been holding back for years.
"jake..." you whisper.
his fingers press a little deeper into your skin. "yeah?"
you open your mouth—
RIIIING RIIIING RIIIING.
you both jump.
your phone lights up between you two, vibrating violently against the mattress like it's possessed. the moment snaps in half. the tension dissolves like it never existed.
jake curses under his breath and jerks his hand away from your waist like he touched a hot stove.
you sit up way too fast, hair messy, face flushed, pretending you weren't about to let your best friend climb into your bloodstream.
"oh—uh—my mom's calling," you blurt, even though you haven't even looked at the caller ID.
jake scoots back immediately, expression neutral but ears bright pink. "yeah. yeah, answer it."
you grab your phone, awkwardly clearing your throat. "h-hello?"
jake stands from the bed like it's on fire. he runs a hand through his hair, pacing a little, avoiding eye contact like the plague.
you talk to... whoever... on the phone, but you're barely listening. your mind is spinning.
did that just happen?
no. no, it couldn't have. it was jake. your jake. clingy, touchy, overly affectionate jake who once held your hand for thirty minutes because you saw a spider and screamed.
this is normal. he's always like this.
he wasn't gonna kiss you. that's crazy.
meanwhile jake stops pacing just long enough to glance at you—your flushed cheeks, your dazed eyes, the way you're tugging nervously at your shirt.
his jaw clenches, he looks away again. when you hang up the phone, the room is weirdly silent. awkward in a way it's never been.
you try to laugh it off. "okay, wow, that was... dramatic."
jake forces a smile. "your ringtone scared the fuck out of me, not gonna lie."
"same," you giggle. "i thought something exploded." you wait for him to make a joke. tease you, say something flirty and dumb like he always does.
but he just nods. "yeah."
you tilt your head. "jake... are you good?"
he blinks once. twice. then shrugs way too casually. "yeah. why wouldn't i be?"
"you're... acting weird."
"no i'm not."
you squint at him. he avoids your eyes, picking at a loose thread on his hoodie like it suddenly became fascinating.
you shrug, letting it go. "okay, whatever. do you want the rest of my noodles?"
jake finally looks at you—soft, fond, longing. too much. he covers it instantly with a smirk.
"yeah," he says, ruffling your hair like he didn't just have his hand under your shirt two minutes ago. "give them."
you laugh and shove the container into his hands, the moment already fading in your mind.
because that's just jake, he gets weird sometimes.
touchy. clingy. possessive. but he's your best friend, so none of it means anything.
right?
jake sits beside you again, shoulder pressed to yours, stealing a bite of your food like nothing happened.
but his hand stays firmly on his thigh now, not daring to slip his hand to rest somewhere on your body.
and you don't notice—but he doesn't look at you again for the rest of the night.
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you don't even notice when jake closes the distance again.
one second you're scrolling through your phone while waiting for your friends to arrive; the next, jake is suddenly behind you, his chin hooked over your shoulder like he belongs there. his arms wrap around your waist as if it's the most natural thing in the world, sliding under your hoodie and settling warm against your stomach.
"you're early," he murmurs, breath brushing your neck. you squirm slightly at the feeling, your neck feeling tingly.
"and you're clingy," you laugh, leaning back into him without thinking. "as always."
jake smiles into your shoulder—except it's tight, a little strained. because across the room, one of your friends is watching with raised brows, mouthing see? he's so into you.
you roll your eyes at her, whispering, "no he's not, he's just touchy."
jake's arms tighten around you immediately, like he heard even though you were whispering. which he probably did—he always seems to hear when it involves him.
"what're you talking about?" he asks casually, playing innocent as he nuzzles your neck, his lips brushing your skin way too much to be "friendly."
"nothing," you wave off, patting his forearm. "they think you like me or something."
jake freezes for half a second—barely noticeable —before smoothing his expression again.
"crazy assumption," he hums, though his thumb is rubbing slow circles into your hip, his chest pressed flush to your back like he's trying to merge into you. "i just like being close to you. that's all."
your friend across the room gives you a look. jake, still pretending not to notice, tightens his hold again.
and then it gets worse—or better, depending on perspective.
you move to the couch, and he moves with you; you sit down, and he pulls you onto his lap like it's routine. he doesn't even give you time to think, just a gentle tug at your waist and suddenly your thigh is slotted between his, his hand splayed over your leg protectively.
"jake," you whisper, half-laughing, half-confused, "i can sit next to you, you know."
"yeah," he shrugs, resting his chin on your shoulder again, "but why would you do that?"
your friends stare. one of them raises their brows so high they practically touch their hairline. you wave them off, whispering, "he's always like this, don't even start—"
"always like what?" jake asks, his breath warm on your ear. you jump—he heard that? you said it so quietly...
"clingy," you say, poking his forehead. "you know. you're a koala. it's your whole thing."
jake's hand on your thigh slides just a little higher. "only with you," he says simply.
you blink and the room goes quiet for a moment.
your heart skips—not because you think he means anything by it, but because you're flustered.
"you mean... because we're close," you correct yourself out loud, nodding firmly, like you're reassuring yourself more than him.
"mm," jake hums noncommittally, but the hand on your thigh squeezes gently, possessively, like he's claiming the entire limb.
the conversation in the room starts up again, but jake doesn't let you move an inch. he's touching you everywhere—knee, thigh, waist, hip, shoulder. every time someone talks to you, his hand finds a new place to rest. at one point he tucks your hair behind your ear, fingers lingering against your jaw a little too long.
you don't question it but everyone else does. finally, one of your friends cracks. "okay, i'm sorry, but jake, babe? you're acting like she's your girlfriend."
your breath catches—but not as much as jake's does. he smiles—slow, lazy, almost smug—and tightens his arm around your waist.
"am i?" he asks lightly, but his eyes are sharp. "hm. didn't notice."
your friend snorts. "oh, please. you're practically—"
"he's just like this," you cut in quickly, panicked embarrassment hitting you all at once. you swat at jake's chest. "tell them. you've always been touchy."
he looks at you, really looks at you, something soft and frustrated dripping underneath it.
"yeah," he finally says, voice dropping lower, more intimate, "i guess i have."
you grin, relieved. "see? nothing new."
your friend gives you a 'you cannot be serious stare'. jake presses a slow kiss to your shoulder— not fully a kiss, more like the ghost of one and whispers, "nothing new."
but the way he says it...it's a confession you don't hear. because that's jake, your jake. clingy, chaotic, glued to your side.
totally harmless.
right?
he hopes you figure it out. he hopes you catch on.
he hopes you feel any of this. he was basically slamming his undying love for you in your face.
but as you shift in his lap and lean into him without realization, he knows. you don't. not yet.
and jake? jake's coming undone faster by the minute.
you don't even realize how long you've been sitting in jake's lap until your leg starts to fall asleep. you shift a little, trying to wiggle out of the pins-and-needles feeling in your thigh, but jake's hands tighten instantly, fingers digging into your hip like he's anchoring you in place.
"hey—" you laugh, elbowing him lightly. "i gotta move, my leg's numb."
"then move," he says, chin still on your shoulder.
"i didn't say you could get up."
you snort, assuming he's joking—because jake jokes, that's what he does—but when you try to get off his lap, he doesn't budge. he actually pulls you back, one hand sliding up your waist, the other locking around your thigh, guiding you back down firmly until you're flush against him again.
your breath stutters. "jake—"
"where're you going?" he asks softly, almost amused, but there's something else simmering under it—something dark and territorial.
"i just need to stretch," you say, trying to twist out of his hold. jake holds in a groan when he feels you shift over his crotch, eyes shutting briefly before he's trying to think of thoughts that would kill his boner.
boner or not, he doesn't let you get up.
with one swift motion—fast enough you barely process it—he shifts you sideways, turning you so your legs drape over his thigh instead, your side pressed to his chest. the entire movement is so smooth and confident that a little gasp escapes your lips.
you freeze, your friends who've been watching this whole ordeal go down freeze.
jake acts like nothing happened. "better?" he murmurs, one hand casually rubbing your outer thigh, thumb brushing bare skin where your shorts ride up.
you swallow. "y-yeah. sure."
your friend across the room mouths, 'HE PICKED YOU UP?? HELLO??'
you glare at her, mouthing back, 'he didn't PICK me up, he just—' you gesture vaguely, as if that explains anything.
she looks like she's about to scream. jake feels your glare move off him and immediately refocuses you by nudging his nose into your neck. not subtly, not gently but like he's reminding you: look at me.
"you're tense," he says into your skin.
"because you tossed me like i'm a little dog—"
"you are little," he says, deadpan. "and you fit on me. so stop fighting it."
your cheeks burn. "i wasn't fighting—"
"you were," he says quietly. "don't. i want you here."
your brain short-circuits for a second. your friends are staring like they're watching a crime unfold.
you clear your throat and try to steer the attention away. "okay, anyway—has anyone heard from lena? she said she was coming—"
"she texted me," one friend says, but her eyes stay glued to you and jake. "she's—uh—running late."
jake's hand trails up your thigh again. slow. intentional. claiming.
"good," he mutters under his breath.
you assume he means because you're all here longer, hanging out. because jake likes group nights, right? he always shows up. he always sticks close.
"anyway," another friend says loudly, clearly trying to save you, "should we order dessert?"
your phone lights up in your hand at that exact moment.
it's your situationship, the one you like. the one you vented to jake about last week.
your thumb barely lifts before jake's hand closes around your wrist—gently, but firmly enough to shock you.
"who's that?" he asks, eyes trained on your screen.
"oh— it's just—"
"him?" jake interrupts, his jaw tightening and his teeth grinding. if you hadn't been so shocked at his behaviour you would've found this hot, cross that, you still did.
you laugh nervously. "don't start—"
he doesn't let go of your wrist. "what does he want?"
"jake," you whisper warningly, "you're being weird." you looks over at your friends who're trying their hardest to not stare at the scene unfolding in front of them.
"i'm being normal," he says calmly.
except he's not. he's staring at the name on your phone like he wants to burn the pixels off the display.
"maybe he got my message," you say, shrugging.
"what message?"
"just— i told him i might be free this weekend. maybe."
jake goes completely still behind you. still like he's holding his breath, still like he's about to break something.
"you're busy this weekend," he says quietly.
you blink. "since when?"
"since... now."
you turn toward him, brows furrowing. "jake. i didn't make plans with you."
he finally meets your eyes—and it's the first time tonight he's fully let the intensity show. all that simmering jealousy he's been swallowing. all those territorial touches he pretended were casual. it's all right there, unfiltered.
"you're not going out with him," he says, voice low. your heart jumps at the tone—serious, possessive, steady.
"jake—"
before you can finish, he grabs your waist again, pulling you tighter against him, one arm banding across your middle like he's shielding you from someone only he can see.
"he doesn't want you," he says. "not really."
you frown. "you don't know that—"
"i do," he snaps, then softens his tone when you flinch. "i do," he repeats, quieter. "i know men. i know what that look means when he talks to you. i know what he's in it for."
you blink, confused. "...what?"
he leans in, lips brushing your ear as he whispers:
"he wants what's mine."
your breath leaves your lungs. immediately, you laugh because it's jake—your jake—and he says dumb things all the time.
"oh my god, you're so dramatic—"
but the room is silent, your friends have turned to stone and jake? jake is staring at you like he didn't mean to say it out loud.
like the truth slipped. like he wants it back, but can't.
he swallows hard. "jake," you whisper, suddenly flustered. "you're... you're joking, right?"
he opens his mouth—you won't know what he would've said because suddenly someone knocks on the front door. loudly.
everyone jumps. the spell breaks. jake's hand loosens on your waist. your phone buzzes again.
and you exhale, convincing yourself: he didn't mean it. jake always says intense stuff. he's just clingy. that's his personality.
right?
meanwhile jake sits behind you, jaw locked, chest rising and falling too fast, fingers flexing like he's resisting the urge to pull you back into him.
this is unraveling faster than he planned and you still don't see it.
.ᐟ .ᐟ .ᐟ .ᐟ .ᐟ .ᐟ
you don't realize it, but you've created a monster.
ever since that night in his lap—the one where he said too much and almost let everything slip—jake has stopped pretending he's subtle.
he's touchy. clingy. bolder than before. not hiding it anymore.
he wants you to notice. he needs you to notice.
but you don't. and every day, without meaning to, you throw gasoline on the fire.
it starts when you get ready for a party.
your dress won't zip, so you call for him—because of course you do.
"jakey? can you come here?"
he nearly punches the wall. that nickname has turned into his personal trigger. he walks into your room and stops dead.
you're standing in front of your full-length mirror, dress half-open, back bare, hair pinned up. you look over your shoulder and smile like you didn't just stab him in the chest with a look.
"help?" you ask sweetly. he should turn around. take a breath. be normal.
he doesn't.
he walks behind you, slow, deliberate, hands coming to rest on your waist before he even touches the zipper.
you tense—just barely—but don't pull away.
you never do. his fingertips drag lightly up your spine as he takes the zipper between two fingers, pulling it up inch by torturous inch.
your breath shivers. he notices.
he leans in, not even pretending anymore, and murmurs, "you should really ask someone who can handle this."
you blink at him in the mirror. "huh?"
"nothing," he says, zipping the last inch with a soft tug. "turn around."
you do, confused—and jake's eyes slowly drag down your body with zero shame. "you look good," he says, voice low, warm. "too good."
you laugh, flustered. "it's just a dress."
he steps closer, his tongue jutting out of his mouth to swipe over his lips. "you have no idea how you look."
you should catch it. the tone, the stare, the tension.
but you don't. you just pat his chest and grab your shoes and he swallows the frustrated groan he wants to let out.
later, at the pregame, the living room is crowded —which is your excuse.
"jake, there's no space," you say, scanning the couch. he shakes his head. "come here."
"where?"
he stares at you like it's obvious.
"here," he says, patting his thigh. you watch his thigh flex under his blue jeans, your eyes widening when he spreads his legs wider—inviting you.
your brain short-circuits for a moment—because he's never this blatant—but you go anyway, dropping onto his lap without thinking.
jake inhales sharply. then his hands are on your waist. holding you in place. possessive. claiming.
"good girl," he mutters under his breath.
you don't hear it—but your friend next to you almost chokes. you shift, adjusting your weight—and he grips your hips tighter, fingers digging in.
jake feels as if god was torturing him, your ass was directly over his crotch and your wriggling was killing him.
"stop moving," he murmurs into your shoulder. "you're driving me insane."
you laugh lightly. "sorry, your pants are slippery—"
"they're not," he says flatly. you shrug. "well, i'm sliding."
"you're staying," he corrects.
your cheeks warm. "you could've sat next to me, you know."
"why would i," he asks softly, lips brushing your ear, "when i can have you right here?"
you freeze and your friend mouths silently, 'HELLO????'
you pretend you didn't hear him but he knows you did.
the next morning, his patience finally snaps.
you walk into his kitchen wearing one of his hoodies—the one that barely covers anything—and nothing else.
he turns from the fridge and chokes.
"morning," you say, stretching your arms above your head. the hoodie lifts, your thighs show and jake actually sees black for a second.
"you—" he clears his throat. "you're not wearing shorts?"
you look down like you're shocked. "it's long enough."
"no," he says immediately. "absolutely not."
you roll your eyes and steal the jar he's holding. "open this."
he stares at you. at your bare legs. at your smile.
"say please."
you blink. "...jake."
"say it," he repeats, stepping closer. "please."
you groan. "open it, jakey."
the lid pops off with a violent twist. you laugh, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "thanks."
his eyes close for a moment—because if he looks at you, he might lose control. "you can't walk around like this," he says, voice tight.
"like what?"
"like you're mine."
you freeze. "huh?"
he straightens instantly. "eat your breakfast."
you shrug it off, confused and jake watches you walk away, hoodie swaying, thighs soft and bare and his hoodie swallowing you whole. he almost slams his head into the counter.
.ᐟ .ᐟ .ᐟ .ᐟ .ᐟ .ᐟ
you're halfway through the movie when it happens—that slow, sleepy slump you always do, the one jake pretends he doesn't wait for every single week.
your head drops against his shoulder first. then his chest. then, like it's the most natural thing in the world, you curl into him, knees tucked up, fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt.
and jake... jake stops breathing. because you're not even awake, and you're already ruining him.
his arm is draped around you—like it always is—pulling you against him so snugly it's almost indecent. but tonight is worse. tonight you're extra clingy, extra tired, extra soft.
"you good?" he whispers, even though you're clearly far gone.
you don't answer, obviously, but your hand fidgets again, fingertips brushing the warm skin of his stomach.
jake silently thanks every god he's ever heard of.
he glances at the screen, trying to focus, but every time you exhale against his chest, it punches air out of his lungs. your cheek is warm through his shirt. your thigh drapes across his lap like it belongs there.
and he lets it. he lets every second of it melt him down into something pathetic.
then—then the real problem starts.
you shift. innocently, mindlessly, stupidly dangerous.
you drag your leg over his, body sliding up slightly as you readjust in your sleep, and suddenly you're straddling his thigh. not fully, but enough that your weight settles on him—soft, warm, perfect.
jake's whole body locks up. his heartbeat goes ballistic.
you murmur something incoherent, nuzzling into his chest deeper, fingers gripping at his shirt like you're holding onto him in your dreams.
he is going to combust. his hands hover uselessly in the air for a full second before he grips your waist—carefully, firmly, but maybe a bit too tight —because if you move again, he is not going to be normal about it.
you're half-asleep, breathing slow and sweet, completely unaware that you're sitting directly on his thigh like you own it.
you shift again. just a tiny roll of your hips— unconscious, searching for comfort—but to jake it's catastrophic.
his jaw clenches so hard it aches. his eyes squeeze shut and his brain turns into static.
he whispers, strangled, "oh, my god... baby, please don't do that—"
you're not awake enough to hear him. or maybe you are, but you're you—which means you're clueless.
your fingers slide higher, brushing his ribs. your lips part against his shirt as you breathe.
jake has never known true fear until now. he's sweating. he's trying not to move. he's praying you don't feel how tense he is, or worse, how much he's struggling to keep himself together because you're on him, touching him, sleeping on him like you're trying to kill him without even trying.
you wiggle again. he chokes on air and that's what wakes you.
you lift your head slowly, eyes hazy and unfocused as you blink at him.
"jakey?" your voice is soft, raspy from sleep. "why're you... so red?"
he stares at you like you've asked why water is wet. you're still sitting on his thigh.
he can feel the heat of you through your little sleep shorts. his hands are still on your waist, thumbs pressing into your hips like he forgot how to let go.
"m'fine," he says, voice not fine at all. "you were just—uh—moving a lot."
you frown, still half-asleep, still oblivious, still sitting exactly where you shouldn't be sitting.
"oh... sorry," you mumble, and instead of getting off him, you lean forward and wrap your arms around his neck in this slow, sleepy hug that absolutely destroys whatever sanity he had left.
your chest presses against him. your lips brush his collarbone. you melt into him like you belong there.
his voice comes out low, tight, dangerous.
"you're really trying to kill me tonight, huh?"
you blink. "what? i literally just woke up."
he laughs—breathless, disbelieving, windows-fogging kind of laugh—and slides one hand up your spine, fingers splayed, possessive, like he can't help himself.
"yeah," he murmurs against your ear, "that's the problem."
you shift again, confused, and jake's grip tightens automatically, almost like he's anchoring you, holding you in place, keeping you where he wants you without thinking.
you finally look down and see exactly where you're sitting.
your eyes widen. "oh."
jake groans—actually groans—head falling back against the couch. "yeah. oh."
you scramble to move, but his hands clamp around your waist, not rough, but firm, guiding you back down in one slow, controlled motion that sends shivers through your whole spine.
"don't—" he says quietly, voice wrecked. "don't move so fast. you'll make it worse."
you freeze. he stares at you, cheeks flushed, eyes dark, chest rising and falling way too quickly.
and then—soft, low, dangerous, "you have no idea what you do to me, do you?"
your breath catches. you're finally—finally—a little aware.
but jake? jake looks like he's one second away from picking you up, putting you exactly where he wants you, and showing you everything you've been too oblivious to see.
you try to move again. you really do—you lift your hips maybe an inch, ready to scramble off his thigh and pretend none of this ever happened.
but jake doesn't let you. his hands—big, warm, shaking just a little—slide from your waist to your hips, and he drags you right back down onto his thigh with a slow, controlled pull that makes your breath stutter.
"jake—" you whisper, shocked.
"no," he breathes out, forehead pressing to yours, eyes dark and wild. "stay."
the way he says it—low, rough, like he's been holding it back for months—freezes you completely. you blink at him, stunned, hands lightly resting on his shoulders.
"i— i didn't mean to—" you start.
"i know you didn't." his fingers tighten around your hips, thumbs digging in as if grounding himself. "that's the problem."
his grip shifts, sliding down the sides of your thighs before pulling you in closer—not indecent, but confident, deliberate, like he's finally done pretending.
you gasp softly at the sudden closeness, at how easily he moves you like you weigh nothing. your hands instinctively grab his shoulders. his hands instinctively stay exactly where they shouldn't.
"jakey—" you breathe.
he groans—shuddering, almost pained. "don't—don't call me that right now," he mutters, voice shaking with restraint.
"why?" your voice is soft. confused. innocent. he stares at you like that's exactly what broke him.
then he grabs your waist—firmly, possessively—and shifts you forward another inch, guiding your body with both hands like he's claiming you without permission, without shame, without fear.
his breath stutters when you end up chest-to-chest with him, thighs tightening around his.
you can feel every muscle in his body lock.
"because," he whispers, almost growling, "you're sitting on me like this, half-asleep and touching me like you always do, and you still... still don't get it."
your heart skips. "...get what?"
that's what finally snaps him. he exhales sharply, almost a laugh, almost a curse, and suddenly you're moving—gently but firmly—because jake has had enough.
his hands slide up your back, gripping under your arms as he shifts positions. in one smooth, practiced, entirely-too-strong motion, he lifts you.
you gasp as your body rises—not far, just enough that you feel light in his hands—and then he sets you back down on his lap, straddling him properly now, chest to chest, no space left between you at all.
your breath leaves your lungs. "j-jake..."
he doesn't let you pull back. one hand stays on your back; the other cups the back of your thigh, holding you in place, thumb rubbing slow circles that feel far too intimate.
his voice drops to a low, broken whisper against your cheek. "i like you."
you freeze. "i've liked you. for months. longer, honestly. more like years."
your lips part in stunned silence. his fingers tighten on your thigh—not rough, but desperate.
"and you keep... doing things. leaning on me, wearing my clothes, calling me jakey, sitting on my lap, stretching in front of me—" he shakes his head like he's spiraling, "—and i swear i've tried so hard to be normal about it."
you open your mouth, but he keeps going—the dam is broken and the truth is pouring out.
"i touch you because i want you. i get possessive because i can't help it. i'm obvious on purpose because i'm hoping—" he swallows, jaw clenching. "—god, i'm hoping you'll finally see it."
you breathe out, barely a whisper. "jake..."
"and tonight?" his thumb presses into your hip. "you don't know what you're doing to me. you never do."
you stare at him—his flushed cheeks, blown pupils, the way his chest heaves like telling you this has shattered him open.
your voice trembles. "why didn't you tell me?"
his grip pulls you closer—impossibly closer—his forehead pressing into your jaw, breath hot on your neck.
"because," he admits, voice barely a whisper, "if you didn't feel the same, i wouldn't survive it."
your hands lift shakily, cupping his jaw, forcing him to look at you.
"jake," you whisper, softer than you've ever spoken to him, "i didn't know."
he lets out a breath that sounds half laugh, half agony. "yeah, sweetheart..." his fingers slide up your spine, anchoring you against him, voice low and raw. "i know."
his confession still hangs in the air—hot, heavy, suffocating—and you can barely breathe with how close he is. your legs are still wrapped around him from when he dragged you into his lap, your hands still shaking on his shoulders.
his chest rises and falls against yours, unsteady, like he ripped his heart open and now he's waiting for you to crush it or cradle it.
you swallow hard. "jake... i like you too."
he blinks. slowly. like the words didn't compute at first.
"what?" he breathes.
you nod, nervous but honest. "i've liked you for a while."
everything stops. his hands, which had been warm and steady at your waist, suddenly grip tighter. not painfully—but enough to make your breath hitch and your thighs squeeze around him involuntarily.
his jaw flexes. "how long," he says quietly.
you look down at his chest, trying to avoid eye contact. "...since last year."
jake lets out a sound that doesn't even sound human. you can't tell if it's a laugh or a groan or a curse, but it vibrates through his whole body— and yours.
his grip on your waist tightens, thumbs pressing into your skin like he's seconds away from snapping.
"last year," he repeats, voice dangerously soft.
you nod, bad idea. because the second you do, jake suddenly grabs your hips, lifts you off him for half a second, and then slams you right back into his lap, pulling you flush against him.
you could feel him, his cock molding perfectly against your cunt. you gasp, grabbing his shoulders for balance.
"jake—!" his face is inches from yours. too close. way too close.
"you liked me since last year," he says again, like he's trying to rewrite reality, "and you didn't tell me?"
your voice shakes. "i— i didn't know if you liked me back—"
he laughs again, breathless, incredulous, pained.
"sweetheart," he says, squeezing your hips as he drags you even closer, "i've been losing my mind over you."
your heart jumps. "jake—"
he cuts you off by grabbing the back of your neck, guiding your face closer, his forehead pressing hard against yours.
"you wore my hoodies with no pants," he mutters, voice rough. "you'd climb into my lap during movie nights. you'd call me 'jakey' when you wanted something. and you thought it was FRIENDLY?"
your face heats. "i— i thought you were just being you—"
his fingers dig into your thigh. "being me?" he echoes, eyes darkening. "sweetheart, I was obsessed."
your breath catches. he inhales sharply, like he's trying to keep control—and losing.
"you let me touch you," he says, hands sliding up your sides, over your ribs, gripping, groping, exploring. "you let me hold you. you let me spoil you. and I thought—" he breaks off, shaking his head, "I thought any minute you'd pull away and tell me I was crossing a line."
you stare at him, breathless. "...i liked it."
his eyes snap to yours—sharp, hungry, disbelieving.
"say that again."
"i liked it," you whisper.
that's when he snaps. your back hits the couch cushions before you process what's happening— not rough, but fast, controlled, like he's been restraining himself too long.
he cages you in with his arms on either side of your head, body pressed firmly against yours. your legs instinctively wrap around him again and he lets out an unsteady breath at the movement.
his hands slip under your thighs, lifting, adjusting, pulling you exactly where he wants you.
you gasp, mind fogging instantly. "j— jake—"
"no," he says, breathing heavily, "you don't get to look at me like that and say you liked it."
his fingers slide up your waist again, slower this time, tracing the shape of you like he's memorizing it. exploring. claiming.
"you made me crazy," he whispers against your cheek. "every day. every little thing you did. and you knew."
your eyes widen. "i didn't know—" he grabs your chin, turning your face to his.
"you knew enough," he growls softly. "you knew how you affected me. you just didn't want to admit it."
your breath trembles. his hand slides down, gripping your hip, dragging you closer until your chest is flush with his, until your thighs squeeze around him again without you meaning to.
his voice is low, ragged. "you liked me," he murmurs, "and you kept it a secret. you let me suffer over you."
his fingers trail dangerously slow up your side, over your ribcage, to the underside of your arm— not touching anywhere explicit, but enough to make your whole body arch into him.
"jake... i'm sorry," you breathe, barely able to think.
"don't apologize," he says, eyes locked on yours. "just—don't lie anymore."
"I like you," you whisper. "i've always liked you."
something in him breaks open. he exhales shakily, hands sliding down your waist, gripping harder, pulling you tight against him like he's afraid you'll disappear if he loosens his hold.
"good," he whispers, voice trembling with relief and hunger.
"because now," he murmurs, leaning down, lips brushing your jaw without quite touching it,
"i'm done holding back."
his hands slide lower—firm, bold, claiming— guiding your body exactly where he wants you.
your breath hitches and your mind goes blank.
his mouth crashes down on yours before you can even breathe.
it's not gentle. it's not sweet. it's filthy—all hungry, open-mouthed kisses that taste like desperation and salt and him. he sucks on your bottom lip, hard, before biting down just enough to make you gasp, and then his tongue is in your mouth, claiming you, owning you, consuming you. you can taste the mint of his toothpaste and the heat of his want.
he sucks on your tongue, drawing it into his mouth, and you moan, the sound vibrating through both of you. his hands are everywhere—one tangling in your hair, tugging just enough to arch your neck back, the other sliding down your side, gripping your waist so hard you know you'll feel the shape of his fingers tomorrow.
"mine," he growls against your lips, breaking the kiss only to dive back in, sloppier, wetter. "all fucking mine. you understand? you're not texting anyone else. you're not looking at anyone else."
"jake—" you pant.
"say it," he demands, biting at your jaw, then sucking a harsh, wet kiss into the skin right below your ear. you feel the sharp pull of his mouth, the promise of a mark.
"yours," you gasp, and he groans, the sound wrecked and satisfied.
"fuck yeah, you are."
his hand leaves your hair and slides down, two fingers pressing against your lips. "open."
you do, without thought, and he pushes his fingers into your mouth. you suck instinctively, your tongue swirling around them, and his eyes go black with lust.
"look at you," he breathes, watching you. "taking me so good. always so good for me." he pulls his wet fingers out with a soft pop and uses that same hand to yank your shirt up and over your head in one rough motion.
your bra is next—he doesn't bother with the clasp, just hooks his fingers under the front and pulls it down, baring you to him completely.
the cool air hits your skin for half a second before his mouth is on you, hot and voracious. he licks a broad stripe over your nipple before sucking it deep into his mouth, his tongue flicking relentlessly. his other hand kneads your other breast, thumb rubbing over the peaked nipple.
"so perfect," he mumbles against your skin, his voice muffled. "fuck, i've wanted to do this forever." he bites down gently on the peak, then soothes it with his tongue, before moving to the other side, giving it the same rough, worshipful treatment. he's leaving dark, possessive marks all over your chest—hickeys blooming like violets, the faint imprint of his teeth.
you're writhing under him, your hips rolling up, searching for friction. he grinds his own hips down against yours, the hard ridge of his denim-clad erection pressing right where you need it, and you cry out.
"jake, please—"
"please what, sweetheart?" he lifts his head, his lips swollen, his chin wet. he looks destroyed, beautiful. "tell me what you want."
"you," you whimper. "just you."
his grip on your waist tightens, surely hard enough to bruise. "you've got me. you've always had me." he leans down again, capturing your mouth in another searing kiss. you can taste your own skin on his lips. one of his hands slides down, over the curve of your stomach, fingers slipping under the waistband of your shorts. "gonna mark you up everywhere," he promises between bites at your lips. "gonna make sure you feel me for days. every time you move, you'll remember who you belong to."
his fingers dip lower, and you arch off the couch, a broken sound tearing from your throat as his fingers slip under your waistband. you're so ready for him, so desperate, you think this is it—but he doesn't go where you want. instead, his hands slide down to the hem of your shorts, gripping the fabric with a possessiveness that steals your breath.
"these," he says, voice gravelly, "are in the way."
in one rough motion, he yanks your shorts and underwear down your legs, leaving you bare beneath him. the cool air kisses your skin, but it's nothing compared to the heat of his gaze as he looks at you. his dark eyes rake over you, from your heaving, marked chest down to the apex of your thighs, and he lets out a low, approving groan.
"fuck, look at you," he murmurs, his hands sliding back up to grip your hips. "all mine. finally."
he doesn't kiss you again. instead, he pushes your thighs apart, his gaze locked on the wetness he finds there. a slow, predatory smile spreads across his lips.
"you're dripping for me, sweetheart. after all this time... you're gonna make up for every second i spent thinking you didn't want me."
before you can answer, he drops his head between your legs.
the first lick is a broad, slow stroke from your entrance all the way up to your clit, and you jolt, a sharp cry tearing from your throat. it's sloppy and messy immediately—he doesn't bother with finesse, just eats you out like he's starving, like he's claiming this part of you too. his tongue fucks into you, deep and wet, and then swirls around your clit, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth.
you arch off the couch, your hands flying to his hair, gripping the tousled strands. "jake—oh, god—"
he hums against you, the vibration making your toes curl. he's relentless, licking and sucking, his stubble scratching the tender skin of your inner thighs. you're already so close, teetering on the edge, and he knows it. he pulls back just as you're about to cum.
"no," you whine, tugging at his hair. "don't stop, please—"
he lifts his head, his chin glistening with your arousal. his eyes are dark, a flicker of that old frustration in them. "you kept this from me," he says, his voice rough. "all that time. you let me think i was just your friend while you squirmed in my lap. you think that's cute?"
before you can answer, his hand comes down—not hard, but sharp—right on your cunt.
the slap stings, a bright, shocking pain that melts instantly into a wave of pleasure. your whole body clenches, your hole fluttering around nothing, and a choked sob escapes you.
jake watches, fascinated. "look at that," he breathes, using his pointer and middle finger to spread you open to his eyes. "look how pretty you clench for me. all pink and needy."
he does it again, his palm landing firmly on your swollen flesh. the sound is obscene in the quiet room. your skin flushes a deeper shade of pink, and he groans, leaning down to lick over the spot he just spanked. "so fucking pretty. wanna see this color everywhere on you."
he moves before you can process it. one hand pins your hip to the couch as he leans up, his other hand coming down in a sharp, stinging slap on your breast.
you cry out, the mix of pain and pleasure making your head spin. he does it again to the other, watching the skin bloom red under his palm before he ducks his head to suck the tender peak into his mouth, soothing the sting with his tongue.
"jake," you plead, writhing, "please, i need—"
"i know what you need," he interrupts, his voice a low growl. he manhandles you, turning you onto your stomach with a strength that leaves you breathless.
he lands three sharp, successive spanks on your ass, each one making you jerk and moan into the cushion. the heat spreads through you, pooling low in your belly. he kneads the warmed skin, his fingers digging in. "gonna be sore tomorrow," he murmurs, almost to himself. "gonna remember my hands every time you sit down."
he flips you back over, his body caging you in again. his eyes are wild, hungry. he leans close, his breath fanning over your face. "you're mine," he whispers, and then his hand comes up—not to hit, but to cradle your jaw. his thumb brushes your cheekbone. "all of you."
then he slaps your face.
it's not brutal, but it's firm, a sharp, claiming sting that leaves your skin tingling. your eyes water, and you stare up at him, stunned, incredibly turned on.
he circles your clit with two fingers, his touch suddenly teasing, infuriatingly light. "this is mine," he says, watching your face. "this pretty cunt that drips for me. this smart mouth that lied to me for a year." he pushes a finger inside you, just to the first knuckle, and you whimper, trying to buck your hips to take more. he holds you down. "you don't get to decide the pace anymore, sweetheart. i do."
he adds a second finger, curling them deep, and your back bows off the couch. "there it is," he croons, scissoring them slightly, stretching you. "that tight little hole that's been waiting for me. you gonna come on my fingers? gonna make a mess for me?"
"yes—jake, please—" you're babbling, lost in the sensation of his fingers pistoning inside you, his thumb now pressing rough circles on your clit.
"say it," he demands, his own breath coming in ragged pants. he's still fully dressed, the denim of his jeans rough against your bare thighs, and the contrast is maddening. "say who you belong to."
"you!" you sob. "i belong to you, jake, only you—"
"fuck yeah, you do." he kisses you, hard and sloppy, biting at your already swollen lips. his fingers speed up, driving into you with a punishing rhythm. "gonna make you come so hard you see stars. then i'm gonna do it again. gonna ruin you for anyone else."
the coiling tension in your gut snaps. pleasure detonates, white-hot and all-consuming, radiating out from your core. you scream into his mouth as you clench around his fingers, a hot rush of wetness soaking his hand and the couch beneath you. your hips jerk uncontrollably, and he fucks you through it, his fingers relentless, drawing out the spasms until you're trembling and oversensitive.
he pulls his fingers out slowly, watching the way you twitch at the loss. he brings his soaked fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with a dark, satisfied hum. "sweet," he murmurs. "and all mine." he grinds his hips down, letting you feel the massive, hard length of him straining against his jeans. "but we're just getting started, baby. you think i'm done with you?"
he groans at the look on your face, his hips grinding down against you one more time, the rough denim a cruel tease. "just getting started," he repeats, a dark promise in his eyes.
then he's moving, pushing himself up off you, kneeling on the couch between your spread legs. his hands go to the hem of his own shirt, and he yanks it over his head in one violent motion, revealing the muscular, taut plane of his chest and stomach. you reach for him, eager to touch, to feel all that heat under your palms.
he catches your wrists before you make contact, his grip like iron.
"no," he says, voice low and final. he smacks your hands away, the sound sharp in the quiet room. "you don't get to touch. not yet. not after what you've done."
"what i've done?" you breathe, confused, aching for him.
"you made me wait," he snarls, leaning over you, his dark eyes blazing. "you made me think i was crazy. you sat in my lap and wore my clothes and looked at me with those fucking eyes and said it was nothing. so now?" he unbuckles his belt with a harsh, metallic rasp, pulling it free from the loops. "now you learn."
he grabs your wrists again, pulling them up above your head. you don't fight him. you're mesmerized by the intensity on his face, the raw possession.
he wraps the leather belt around both your wrists, cinching it tight, buckling it with a definitive click. the restraint is firm, not painful, but inescapable. you're pinned.
he sits back, straddling your hips, and just looks at you. his gaze is a physical caress, hot and heavy. it travels over your bound wrists, down your marked chest, to where you're bare and wet for him. but it lingers on your face.
specifically, on the faint, warm sting on your cheek where his palm connected earlier.
a slow, wicked smile curls his lips. "look at that," he murmurs, almost to himself. his thumb comes up, brushing over the tender skin. you flinch, and his smile widens. "so fucking pretty. my mark on your face. my color on your skin." he leans down, his lips ghosting over the spot. "gonna keep it there. remind you."
then he shifts back, moving up your body until he's straddling your chest, his knees pinning your arms by your head. his erection strains against the fly of his jeans, a thick, daunting outline just inches from your face.
"look at what you did to me," he grits out, popping the button, dragging the zipper down. he frees himself, and your breath hitches. he's thick, velvety and flushed, already leaking at the tip. he fists his length, giving himself a slow, rough stroke. "all this time. hard for you. aching for you. and you played dumb."
he leans forward, bracing one hand by your head, the other pumping his cock slowly, deliberately. the swollen head nudges against your lips. "you wanna taste it, baby? wanna taste what you've been driving crazy?"
you nod, desperate, your tongue darting out to catch the bead of precum.
he smacks your cheek with the hot, heavy weight of his cock—a sharp, degrading tap that makes you whimper. "i didn't say you could." he rubs the slick head over your lips, painting them with his salt. "you beg for it."
"please," you whisper, straining against the belt. "please, jake, let me taste it."
"not good enough." he strokes himself faster, his hips beginning to piston slightly. the tip prods at the corner of your mouth. "tell me why you want it."
"because it's yours," you sob, the humiliation and need mixing into a potent fuel. "because i need it. i need your cum, please, i need to taste you—"
"on your face or in your mouth?" he demands, his rhythm becoming erratic.
"my face," you beg, the filth of the words thrilling you. "mark my face, please, jake—"
that does it. a guttural groan tears from his throat. his hand moves punishingly fast on himself. "open your eyes. look at me. watch me ruin you."
you force your eyes open, locked on his wild, dark gaze as he tips over the edge. hot stripes of cum land across your cheek, your lips, your chin. it's thick, copious, and the scent of him—musky and uniquely jake—fills the air. he rides out his orgasm, shuddering, his release painting you as his.
he collapses forward for a second, breathing heavily, before pushing himself up. he looks at his work—your face glazed, marked, utterly claimed—and a look of profound, possessive satisfaction settles on his features.
"fuck," he breathes. "perfect."
then he's moving again, unbuckling the belt from your wrists with quick, efficient tugs. before you can even rub the feeling back into them, he's flipping you onto your stomach, dragging your hips up, pushing your knees apart. his hands are rough on your sore ass, kneading the flesh he'd spanked earlier.
you feel the blunt, wet head of his cock nudge against your entrance, slick with his cum and your own arousal.
"you want this?" he grinds the tip against you, not pushing in. "this fat cock you made so desperate? you wanna feel it split you open?"
"yes! god, jake, please, fuck me—"
"beg harder."
you're crying now, tears mixing with the mess on your face. "please, i need it, i need you to fuck me, please, i can't wait anymore, please—"
he drives into you in one brutal, sheathing thrust.
you scream, the stretch overwhelming, the fullness divine. he doesn't give you a second to adjust. he sets a punishing pace immediately, each snap of his hips slamming you forward into the cushions. his hands grip your waist, surely leaving bruises, holding you in place for his use.
"tight," he grunts, his voice strained. "so fucking tight and wet for me. this cunt was made for me. say it."
"it was—ah!—made for you, only for you—"
"gonna cum in this greedy hole," he promises, his thrusts becoming deeper, more focused. "gonna fill you up so deep you taste me for days. you want that? want me to breed this pretty pussy?"
the crude words send you spiraling. "yes! yes, i want it, fill me up, please, jake, i'm gonna cum—"
"come then," he snarls, one hand snaking around to rub rough circles on your clit. "cum on my cock. squeeze me while i pump you full."
the dual sensation breaks you. you shatter around him, clenching rhythmically on his length, a broken stream of pleas and sobs falling from your lips. he fucks you through it, his own groans getting louder, more ragged.
"gonna cum," he warns, his hips stuttering. "gonna mark you inside. take it. take it."
with a final, deep thrust, he buries himself to the hilt and lets go. you feel the hot, pulsing rush of him flooding your core, claim upon claim. he holds himself there, shuddering, his forehead dropping between your shoulder blades as he empties himself into you.
for a long moment, there's only the sound of heavy breathing.
slowly, he pulls out. you whimper at the loss, the sudden emptiness, the slick drip of him and you onto the couch.
he turns you onto your back again, his eyes immediately dropping between your legs. he watches, fascinated, as a thick trickle of his cum leaks out of you.
"look at that," he murmurs, voice husky with satisfaction. he pushes two fingers back inside you, easily, scooping the escaping fluid. he pushes it back in, stuffing you with his fingers, keeping his claim sealed inside. "keeping it in you. where it belongs."
everything slows down.
the room is quiet except for the sound of breathing—his, yours—still uneven, still catching. the adrenaline drains out of your body in waves, leaving you warm and shaky and strangely floaty.
jake is the first to move. not rushed. not rough anymore.
his hands, which were gripping you like he was afraid you'd disappear, loosen. they slide up your sides slowly, almost reverently, like he's checking that you're real. that you're okay.
"hey," he murmurs, voice hoarse but gentle now. "look at me."
you do. his eyes are softer than you've ever seen them—still dark, still intense, but no longer sharp around the edges. there's something almost fragile there, like everything he's been holding in just cracked open.
he brushes his thumb under your eye, catching a tear you didn't realize slipped out.
"did i—" he stops himself, jaw tightening. "...you good?"
you nod, still catching your breath. "yeah. i'm good."
he exhales, long and shaky, like he's been holding it in since the moment he confessed.
"okay," he says quietly. "okay."
he shifts closer, pulling you against his chest. this time it's careful—an arm wrapped around your back, the other cradling your head, tucking you into him like he's afraid to squeeze too hard.
you melt into it instantly. your cheek presses to his collarbone. his heartbeat is loud and steady under your ear.
for a moment, neither of you says anything. it's not awkward. it's heavy. charged. real.
"i didn't mean to scare you," he says eventually, barely above a whisper.
you lift your head. "you didn't."
his brows knit together. "i was... angry. not at you exactly. just—" he huffs a quiet laugh, embarrassed now that the heat's gone. "at myself. for wanting you that bad and thinking i was insane."
you trace a slow line over his shoulder with your finger. "i should've said something."
he shakes his head. "we both should've."
his thumb rubs slow circles into your arm— grounding, soothing.
"i just didn't think you'd ever see me like that," he admits. "i figured if i pushed too hard, you'd pull away. so i stayed... half-in. miserable."
you're quiet for a beat, then softer, "i was scared too."
he looks down at you. "of me?"
"of losing you," you correct.
that does something to him. his grip tightens just a little, like instinct. "you're not losing me."
you search his face. "promise?"
he doesn't hesitate. "promise."
another quiet moment passes. then, tentative, "so... what does this mean now?"
you smile faintly. "i was wondering the same thing."
he tilts his head, considering, then says, very plainly, "it means i don't pretend anymore."
your stomach flips. "means i get to be honest when i'm jealous. when i want you. when i don't want anyone else near you." he pauses, watching your reaction. "only if you want that."
you don't even think about it. "i do."
his lips twitch—not smug, not cocky—relieved.
"okay," he murmurs. "then it means you're mine."
you raise a brow. "possessive much?" he smirks, but there's warmth behind it now. "you already knew that."
you laugh softly and tuck yourself back into him.
his chin rests on top of your head. one hand stays at your back, steady and protective, like it's exactly where it belongs.
"i'll be better," he says quietly. "gentler. when you need it."
you hum, blushing softly. "i don't mind when you're not."
he snorts, remembering your moans and pleas for more. "yeah. i figured."
silence settles again—comfortable this time.
outside, the night feels different. not tense anymore, just open. and for the first time, jake’s not wondering what you feel.
he already knows.
— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!
𝓘𝐍 𝓦𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 ❤︎ your best friend is an absolute pervert with a massive fixation on you, stealing your clothes and losing his mind, until he finally breaks down and begs you to let him cross the line.
𝓖𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗭’𝗦 𝓝𝐎𝐓𝐄 ─── 𝜗ৎ smut. (mdni) || warnings ' perv!jake bsf2lovers dry humping obsessive behavior scent fetish overcoming boundaries mutual pining marking || talktalk ' idk what to think about this it’s just hot to me he’s so pervert coded sorry not sorry.
it was supposed to be a normal movie night right? just you and jake, tangled up in a mess of blankets on your couch, a half empty bowl of popcorn sitting between you. but the air in the room felt heavy, thick with a tension that had been building for months. jake wasn't watching the screen. he was watching you, his dark eyes tracing the line of your jaw, the way your lips parted slightly as you breathed, the way your oversized shirt slipped off your shoulder.
you knew jake was a bit of a deviant. he didn't exactly hide it from you, his best friend. he’d make offhand, shameless comments about things that should have made you blush, but you’d always laughed them off as jake just being jake. what you didn't know, what you only recently started to piece together, was how deep that fixation went when it came to you.
it started with small things. a look that lingered too long. the way he’d volunteered to do your laundry when you were sick, only for you to notice later that a pair of your lace underwear had mysteriously vanished, never to be found. you’d caught him once, standing in your bedroom when he thought you were in the kitchen, holding a sweater you’d worn the day before, his face buried deep in the fabric, inhaling your scent with a desperate, shaky breath. you hadn't said anything then, too shocked and, if you were being completely honest with yourself, too thrilled by the raw hunger in his eyes to confront him. but tonight, the boundaries were melting away.
jake shifted, shifting closer until his thigh was pressed hard against yours. you could feel the heat radiating off him. when you turned your head to look at him, you found him already staring, his gaze intense, almost agonizingly focused on your mouth.
"you're not even watching," you whispered, your voice cracking slightly under the weight of his stare.
"can't," jake muttered, his voice rougher than usual. "there's something much better to look at right here."
you swallowed hard, your heart hammering against your ribs. "jake, don't do this. we talked about this. we're friends."
"i know," he said, and the sheer desperation in his voice made your stomach flip. he reached out, his long fingers trembling just a little as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear. his thumb brushed against your cheekbone, his skin scorching hot. "i know we're friends, y/n. i swear i try to remember that. but it's driving me fucking insane."
"what is?" you asked, though you already knew the answer.
jake let out a breathless laugh, dropping his hand to rest on the cushion right next to your thigh. "you. everything about you. i spend every single day thinking about you. do you have any idea what i do when i'm alone in my apartment? do you know what i think about?"
you stayed quiet, your breath hitching.
"i think about you," jake confessed, leaning in closer, his scent of cedar and pure warmth overwhelming your senses. "i take your clothes, y/n. that sweater you lost last month? i have it. it's under my pillow. i jerk off into it because it smells like you. i sit on my bed, closing my eyes, imagining it's your hands on me instead of my own. i'm a sick fuck, i know it. i'm a pervert. but i need you so bad it hurts."
the honesty of it, the absolute lack of shame mixed with such raw vulnerability, sent a shivering wave of heat straight to your core. you should have been offended. you should have kicked him out. instead, your thighs rubbed together beneath the blanket, already slick.
"jake," you breathed out, your hands coming up to rest against his chest, feeling the frantic, erratic thumping of his heart. "we can't. if we do this, if we cross this line, there is no going back. i don't want to lose you. you're my best friend."
"i don't want to lose you either," jake said, his forehead coming to rest against yours, his breath mingling with yours. "fucking hell, y/n, you're the best thing in my life. but i'm dying here. just looking at you, touching you like this, it's not enough anymore. i need to feel you. please. just let me have this. let us have this."
"and what happens tomorrow?" you asked, your fingers gripping his shirt, pulling him just a fraction of an inch closer.
"we'll figure it out tomorrow," jake promised, his voice dropping to a needy, pathetic whimper. "just please, y/n. let me." you didn't answer with words. instead, you tilted your head up and closed the small distance between you, pressing your lips to his.
jake let out a choked sound, between a groan and a sob, and instantly took over the kiss. it wasn't a gentle, sweet first kiss. it was a collision. his mouth opened over yours, his tongue sweeping in with a fierce, possessive hunger that left you completely breathless. he gripped your waist with bruising force, pulling you flush against his chest as if he wanted to meld your bodies together.
the popcorn bowl fell to the floor, forgotten, as jake shifted his weight, climbing over you and pinning you to the couch. he broke the kiss for a split second to tear his shirt off, tossing it blindly into the room, before diving right back down to feast on your lips. his skin was burning, slick with a light sweat of pure anticipation.
"y/n, oh god, y/n," jake chanted against your mouth, his hands wandering frantically over your body, bunching up your shirt, his palms rough against your bare skin.
he didn't even wait to take your shorts off. the need in him was too feral, too far gone. he settled himself directly between your thighs, the heavy, rigid length of his erection pressing hard against your center through both layers of your clothes. then, he began to grind.
it was a slow, heavy roll of his hips at first, finding the perfect angle. you let out a loud moan right into his mouth, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist to lock him close. that sound seemed to snap something inside him. the pace turned frantic, desperate, and completely unchecked.
jake dry humped you with a wild, rhythmic urgency that made the entire couch creak beneath you. every downstroke of his hips pressed his hardness perfectly against your aching core, creating a friction so intense you could feel the heat blooming inside you like wildfire. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin there, leaving dark marks that you knew would stay for days.
"you feel so good," jake gasped out, his whole body shaking with the effort of holding back. "even through your clothes, you're so warm. y/n, please. look at me."
you forced your heavy eyelids open, staring up into his face. jake looked completely wrecked. his hair was a messy nest, his cheeks were flushed dark red, and his eyes were wide, blown out, and filled with a devotion that made your heart ache just as much as your core.
"i've wanted this for years," jake whispered, his hips continuing their relentless, desperate friction against yours. his movements were getting faster, shorter, his breath hitching as he edged closer to the brink just from the sheer feel of you beneath him. "every single time i looked at you. every time you smiled at me. i'm so sorry i'm like this, y/n. i'm so sorry i'm so dirty for you."
"don't apologize," you whined, arching your back, throwing your head back against the armrest as another heavy roll of his pelvis hit you perfectly. "jake, don't stop. please."
"never," he groaned, his hands moving down to grip your thighs, keeping you pinned, keeping you open for him as he rode your thigh with a pathetic, whimpering sort of desperation. "i'm going to ruin myself for you. i already have."
the sheer friction of his jeans against your thin shorts was driving you insane. you could feel the dampness of your own arousal soaking through the fabric, making the contact even more intense, more electric. jake felt it too. he let out a loud, broken whimper, his hips slamming into yours over and over in a quick, merciless rhythm that had you gripping his bare shoulders for dear life, your nails digging into his skin.
"jake, i'm close, i'm going to," you cried out, your vision blurring as the coil of pleasure tightened to an unbearable point.
"cum for me, y/n. let me feel it," jake begged, his voice cracking. he gave one last, deep, heavy grind, his whole body stiffening as he buried his face in your hair.
the orgasm crashed over you in violent, pulsing waves, making your thighs quiver around his waist. right at that exact moment, with your body squeezing around him through the fabric, jake lost his grip completely. he let out a loud, guttural cry, his hips stuttering into you one, two, three more times before he completely froze, his muscles locking tight as he came hard into his own underwear, the heat of it transferring right through to your skin.
the room fell silent, save for the sound of your loud, synchronized, ragged breathing.
jake collapsed fully against you, his heavy chest rising and falling against yours, his face still hidden in your neck. he didn't move for a long time, just holding you as if you would disappear if he let go. his hands, still resting on your hips, were twitching slightly.
after a few minutes, he slowly lifted his head. the feral, perverted hunger from before was replaced by something incredibly soft, almost anxious. he looked down at you, searching your face, a sudden wave of panic in his eyes.
"did i ruin it?" he whispered, his voice incredibly small. "y/n, please tell me i didn't just ruin everything."
you looked at him, taking in his messy hair, his flushed face, and the absolute devotion shining in his eyes. a soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips. you reached up, cupping his cheek, your thumb wiping away a stray bead of sweat.
"you didn't ruin anything, you idiot," you giggled softly.
jake let out a long, shuddering breath, the tension leaving his shoulders as he leaned heavily into your touch, closing his eyes. "i love you so much. you have no idea. i'm still a creep, though. i'm still keeping that sweater."
you laughed, a bright, bubbly sound that filled the quiet room. "i know you are, jake. we'll talk about your theft problems later. but right now? i think you still owe me a proper round without our clothes on."
jake's eyes snapped open, a wicked, familiar spark returning to them as a slow, shameless grin spread across his face. "baby, you have no idea what you just started."
film contains…….You are doing skin care for your best friend by sitting on his lap as usual, while he is gaming, but accidentally grind on him, ending up with his cock inside you
film caution …….MINORS DO NOT INTERACT Unprotected sex(don’t do it) dry humping, making out/ kissing, grinding, fingering, edging, nipple play, talking abt fem!reader body parts, neck kisses, nipping the neck, spanking, usage of the word ass, clit play?, mentions of nick names like baby and etc, riding, tell me if anything more should be mentioned.
film length………5.2min(5.2k)
film keeper whispers ……….This is my first ever time publishing fic, I’m learning to write since I imagine a lot, I want to get it into words and now I got an idea for this with the help of Pinterest 😪. I tried my best, and slowly I’m gonna start my oneshot, idk how long it’s gonna be 🤷♀️. If any mistakes, let me know. Please request if u want anything. I will try my best to write butI’m a slow writer 😢. Would love moots, reblogs and likes ♥️ (part two)
film melody playing……….. into you- ariana grande
˚ ༘ 🎞️ ｡𖦹 ° 🎥 ⁀જ⁀➴ film starting……..
The chaotic bursts of neon light from the monitors washes over the room, casting long, jagged shadows against the walls of Heeseung’s room.
The room smells of expensive cologne, ozone from the humming PC, carrying the faint and sterile scent of rosewater and gentle soap in the air.
You are seated on Heeseung’s lap, straddling his hips, knees around them, on his chair, facing him in a position that the friction of your thighs against his jogger’s can’t be ignored.
Heeseung is fully concentrating on his game for now.
His eyes are sharp, darting to every move in the game, playing it very carefully though you are quite a distraction to him.
The headset he has on is filled with sounds of explosions and gunshots, and he pushes one piece of the headset aside so he can hear you.
You hold a small glass jar aloe vera gel, the product cool and smooth between your fingertips.
You’ve been massaging it on his face for the past ten minutes or maybe you just use it as an excuse to stay on his lap longer.
But then still, you don’t care about the game he was playing, you just wanted to end the ‘washing face with whatever soap is there in the shower’ routine for him, so he can get good and fresh skin.
“Stop moving idiot” you murmur, voice soft but firm and commanding him a little because he keeps on moving.
You can feel the heat radiating from him as you blend the cream on his face in small upwards circles.
His jaw is clenched, trying his best not to feel you and your stupid tactics as a distraction, which you are sitting innocently on his lap like you don't understand what’s wrong in doing this.
“I’m in an important fight, Y/N” he grunts, though there’s no real anger behind his voice.
“If I lose this round, I’m gonna blame you and your so-called skincare routine” he adds, mocking lightly.
“Uhh, my skincare routine is obviously way better than whatever you do in the stupid shower,” you retort, sliding your fingers on his temple now.
“No soap is gonna clean your face like my skincare does, your skin feel shit, and it’s screaming for help, so think of this as an upgrade for your face”
He lets out a laugh, his eyes fixed towards the screen. “Sure,” he says as if it’s nothing, “My skin has a mouth and it’s screaming”.
You roll your eyes at that, moving a little back so you can look at him even though he doesn’t.
“Just because it doesn’t have a loud, cocky mouth like you, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist,” you shoot back.
“And for your kind information,” you continue, leaning closer to his face again, to spread the gel on his face, “You’re skin is so dehydrated, maybe it looks fine, but it really isn’t, so be grateful”
“I should be— What? grateful? Why? And what? I have a cocky mouth?” he splutters, turning towards you showing an exaggerated, horrified expression which was totally just acting.
"First place, I don’t even care about my skin, Second, you should be grateful that I’m letting you do this while I’m literally in the middle of a serious fight, Third—”
“Hey, dont move!,” you interrupt, pushing back his face towards the screen.
“I can’t do it properly, if you keep moving” you add and he becomes quiet and goes back to playing his game very seriously.
You slowly get even more closer to his face.
For real, you’ve done this almost a hundred times before, sitting on his lap touching his face and all stuff, but today something in the air feels different.
For the first time the closeness doesn’t feel normal.
It feels dangerous, surreal and maybe something new.
Every time he breathes near you, every time his chest brushes against yours, you feel your pulse raise.
You try to ignore it, focusing your attention back to what you are doing, but it only makes it worse, because now, you’re actually looking at him.
The sharp line of his nose, the long lashes that fall against his skin, the bambi-like looking eyes, and then your gaze drops down— unintentionally.
You blink, realizing you are staring at him, you shake your head slightly to clear it, pushing those sudden, distracting thoughts away as quickly as they come.
You don't want to be caught by him, which will only make it more embarrassing.
You quickly turn back to your work— properly this time.
So, you shift your weight, moving closer to him, trying to adjust the position so reaching the bridge of his nose would be easier.
As you move, your thighs slide against his joggers, hips very slightly against each other, the friction sending a sudden spark through your body, but you push it away.
It was just a small moment for you, which you just want to ignore, but it sent a shudder through Heeseung’s body which you didn’t know.
“Fuck—” Heeseung groans, throwing his head back against the chair, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down, suddenly gripping your hip with one hand so tightly as you freeze at the pressure.
“Don’t—Don’t fucking do that, I’m trying my best to concentrate, baby” he forces out softly, the words tight as he grits his teeth.
You don’t understand what happened.
One second, you’re applying the gel on his face, moving closer to reach his nose—and the next, he throws his head against the chair and it’s pissing you since you already told him to not move.
“I said to not move, Heeseung!! And seriously, it’s not my mistake that you can’t concentrate on your game” you say, a hint of irritation slipping through your voice.
You don’t understand what is wrong or what is his problem, even though it was quite obvious you couldn’t figure it out, so you just get back to working on his face.
You shift your weight again, trying to adjust your position to get a better angle on his face, slightly moving left.
This movement causes your leggings to unintentionally rub your thigh against his growing hardness.
“Baby, fuck—“ he rasps, as his other hand also leaves keyboard to grab the other side of your hip and holds you so tightly with both of the hands that you were sure it will leave few bruises by tomorrow.
His head abruptly falls on your shoulder as the room fills with the loud harsh blares from the monitor which indicates he lost the game but you didn’t know it.
“Heeseung what the—” before you could even scold him, you gasp from him pulling you down, pressing you against him in a way that you can feel his big bulge on your core.
“Heeseung….” you whisper, your voice trembling.
“Don’t—fucking don’t,” he starts, speaking as his head is still on your shoulder, you hear it in his voice, how he is trying his all best to control himself.
“Don’t tell me stop when all I was doing was sitting here….trying my all best to control myself, while here you are sitting on my fucking lap, moving how ever you want……. God! Y/N you’ve been killing me here, I can’t stop anymore—”
He stops talking, lifting his head from your shoulder before capturing your lips in a searing, aching, desperate kiss, hands moving from your hips to your waist, gripping it so tightly it knocks the air out of your lungs.
He kisses you rough, like gentleness isn’t even an option right now, like he’s done holding back, done pretending this doesn’t mean anything as the gel smears on your face from his face.
All the years of your friendship, when he did his best to hold back, but now he’s done.
For a second you forget how to breathe, the intensity, the desperation and the desire from his mouth against yours, knocking the thoughts out of your brain.
You don’t even process the fact that HE, HE, your best friend is kissing you right now. Never in a million years did you think this out of all would happen—a lie you had a lot of sex dreams with him cuz he was too hot, and……..never mind.
You are still trying to process this when the grip on your waist tightens to pull you out of your thoughts.
The jar slips from your hand, shattering into pieces, and gel spreads everywhere on the floor, but you don’t even notice it.
You melt against him, your hand slowly moving from his shoulder to the nape of his neck, fingers curling tightly in the hair as you pull him closer and kiss him back with the same desire, desperation and intensity.
He lets out a low deep growl, something filled with satisfaction like he knew you would kiss him without holding back.
It vibrates through your whole body, slowly heat starts coiling up in your lower belly more than what you felt a while ago.
You start feeling needy and want him more than you ever did.
But then he pulls back, forehead against yours, his breath hot, and his lips swollen from the hard rough kiss.
“Tell me to stop—” he whispers against your mouth in a low hoarse, octave voice which sends a shiver through your body.
You shake your head instantly before he can even finish.
“No,” you whisper, the word barely leaving your throat. “Don’t. Please don’t ”
You roll your hips against his voluntarily.
You need more.
You need the friction to not be a tease and start being the truth. The reality.
“Fuck—“ Heeseung hisses the moment he hears the deny and feels the roll of your hips directly against his bulge.
This time you’ve done it on purpose, you need more and you are clearly showing it.
He roughly grabs your jaw,tilting your head back, and crashing his lips on to yours again.
This time it’s all tongue and teeth, he doesn’t ask for permission, he claims it like it’s his.
You gasp into the kiss, this was more aggressive and desperate han before.
He takes his chance to enter his tongue into your mouth when you gasp.
His tongue plunges into your mouth, taking in your whispers and every inch of your mouth, he doesn’t waste a single single second.
His palm is hot.
He moves his hand from your waist to your hips as they slowly slip under your long hoodie or probably his which you wear all the time.
His hands move on your lower back, pulling you closer that there isn’t a millimetre also left between you both.
He breaks the kiss to move lower, his lips dragging along your jaw, sucking gently, before moving down to the column of your throat.
You tilt your head back without thinking, giving him more, your fingers going to his shoulders to hold tightly as his kisses grow firmer, more lingering.
“Hee….mm….Hee…” your breath stutters, his name coming from your mouth like a chant, unsteady whispers, which you can’t hold back anymore.
His hand moves down to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze before delivering a spank.
His palm against your ass made you leave out a loud gasp, your back arching slightly.
He doesn’t pull away, he soothes it down slowly, in a way it makes your toe curl.
The literal sensation sends sparks right over to your core, making you clench a round nothing.
He starts placing open mouthed kisses near your collarbone and neck, his breath hot and damp, leaving the warmth of his mouth behind.
He moves below your ear, instantly financing your sweet spot and nips your skin lightly.
You let out a sharp cry, breathing unsteadily.
The moment you let it out, he leans in again, nipping it harder than before, sucking a dark, purple mark, visibly claiming you.
He follows down to your collarbone, nipping wherever he finds your sweet spots to let out those sweet little sounds that feel like music to his ears.
You don’t stop, you keep whimpering his name, gasping when his tongue darts out to lick gently after nipping on your sweet spots.
You are drenched.
Your panties are suffocatingly tight because of the silk clinging to your folds as you leak for him.
You need him.
You need to feel full.
You were sure it is making it hard to even take in air properly just because of his hot kisses on your body.
One of his hands tugs the hem of your hoodie, asking you permission if he was allowed to remove it while he was still busy marking you up.
“Yes! Please—remove it” you please, your voice cracking a little bit.
He doesn’t even take a second to tug it off, the moment you accept it, in one fluid motion he pulls it off you.
For a second he freezes.
You aren’t wearing a bra, the cool air hitting your bare skin, making your nipples harden and maybe you weren’t even sure if it was air or his gaze all over your body making you turn again and again and again…..
You aren’t wearing anything else except the black lace of your panties peeking out of your tiny shorts you wore.
“Fuck baby—” he growls, his eye’s darkening, pupils expanding until his hazel is almost entirely black.
He looks at you like you’re both sin and miracle given to him at once.
“This is what you have been gatekeeping from me, huh?” he asks, his hands moving to cup the underside of your breast, lifting them up slightly, as his thumb slightly grazes over the peck.
You whimper, throwing your head back at that little touch surge of pleasure shoots to your core.
“This tiny waist,” his hands moving to the mid section, squeezing the softness there, devouring your body with his eyes.
“These wide, beautiful hips,” his finger moving on the waistband, pulling the elastic tight.
He bends a little, pressing a hot, lingering kiss right above the fabric of your panties, his lips grazing the skin of your hip.
The sensation sends a jolt through your body, sending shivers as your legs shake.
“Including the ass you’ve been teasing me with for years,” he said his voice filled with lust and love, and then he looks at you, how you look wrecked just for his touch.
He spanks you again, harder and more firm this time.
You cry out, a sound filled with shock, pleasure and pain, but please wins it all for now.
You thought he would probably soothe it again but no, it was paining harder but he made no movement to touch or soothe it, just casually leans back on to the chair.
He just lets it linger there, making it a reminder for you.
To remind you, who you actually belong to though he hasn’t fucked the shit out you yet.
Now his gaze isn’t on your face, it moves lower.
Your neck. No
Your collarbone. No
Your Shoulders. No
Just shamelessly, directly looking at your breasts with a hungry gaze, something you wanted to see all along.
“And finally……these beautiful, big boobs” he whispers.
He bends down, his lips hovering right over your breast, his hot breath teasing your nipples.
And then he pecks it…..to just tease you more.
The moment his hot breath was on your nipple.
Just his hot breath.
Hot.
Breath.
You found yourself getting hungrier for him, you didn’t want him to tease you, you needed him, right then and there.
He knew it, he knew how you felt, how you are breathing, how you need him, but won’t give you what you want right now.
“Hee please—” you grind on him again but he holds back your hips making you stop, before you please again or tell him how badly you need him.
Then he starts sucking it, like he can’t hold back anymore, like this was the last thing left on the earth, maybe even like he was thirsty for them.
He wants to tease you, but couldn't hold himself back from you either, that grinding, those pleas from your mouth, made him rethink his decision from teasing you.
You could hear his sucking sounds, wet and vulgar, because of the wetness of his saliva spreading on to your nipples.
Your back arches, your hands instinctively find his hair, gripping it tightly.
He groans at the tight pull of his hair, making him harder underneath.
He sucks on your nipples, tongue circling around the peck, and tugging it slightly before sucking it again, doing the same thing over and over again, while his other hand finds your breast, squeezing, kneading it and rolling your nipple in between his fingers.
You moan, loud, honest, no stopping.
The pleasure was too good.
Your hips start bucking instantly against his bulge again, rolling your hips harder than before, grinding more.
He notices it as he pulls back from sucking with a wet plop.
“Eager now baby?” He teases, his voice dropping low.
You nod, hips moving harder, searching for friction.
For a second he thought to let you do something at least for yourself or not stopping you like he was before but no, straight away his hands move to your hips stopping you right when you thought it was getting better.
Then he bends down and moves to the other breast without a word to you, giving it the same attention as before, while his other hand was on the breast which was wet from his saliva, but still playing with it, satisfying you with his hand.
It was good, undeniably you like you, but the fact that your pussy was throbbing to be filled was not ignorable.
You didn't want to wait.
“Hee….please…please..I need you so bad—ahh” you let out a sharp cry as he bites down your nipples, his hands lowering, across your thighs and rids your shorts from your legs without asking you.
“Needy baby?” He asks as he pulls back, like knew nothing.
“Hee—ahhh” you moan when his fingers touch the wetness of your pussy just through the lace black panties.
“So wet for me baby” he coos as he feels the moisture soaking through the lace.
He finally strips them away also, leaving you bare on his lap, pressing against him.
The contact is sharp, as now you are directly pressing against the rough fabric over his bulge.
He finds his way to your clit, pressing on the swollen bud right away, rubbing it in circles with no patience, but with punishing pressure that makes your vision blur.
Your mouth opens, letting out sharp breaths, eyes shut, finally getting whatever you’ve been longing for, you instinctively bite down on your lips as choked sobs and moans come out of your throat.
“No baby, don’t bite your lip, don’t stop, moan for me, darling” he says softly, before pushing 2 fingers into your soaking warmth at once.
You scream from the sudden push, it wasn’t warned, it was too sudden.
He starts pushing deeper into your spongy walls, as your walls clench around his fingers, he groans in your neck, his fingers curling in spots making you moan and vision blur from the pleasure.
“Fuck baby, thats it, take my fingers like a good girl” he finally adds the third finger, stretching you apart as you wail, and then heeseung leans to kiss you again, tongue entering your mouth directly, taking in all your sounds while pumping his fingers in and out, while his thumb presses and circles on your bud.
He moves faster, pulling away from the kiss, gripping your hips tightly while pumping his fingers faster, your hands move to his shoulders tightening as you squeeze your eyes shut tightly, while whimpering and gasping, leaving out breathy huffs.
As you feel your orgasm building, tightening low in your belly, just the tension in your thighs becomes unbearable.
“Hee— I’m—” before could even finish your sentence, he pulled out his fingers, just only the pad of his thumb pressing over your swollen clit, trapping the pleasure before it could explode.
Your eyes open wide, blown in shock as a moan of frustration screeches from your throat at the literal loss of his fingers inside.
“Hee, why–” you gasp, hips bucking instinctively towards his hand wanting more.
“Mmm” he just hums, looking down at your pussy while circling your clit, rubbing it in small circles but never quite providing the friction you need to tip over the edge.
“Hee, please!” you whine, trying to grind his hand, but he holds your hip tight enough to not let you move, he is still looking at your pussy, but then finally looks up.
Eyes dark with lust, his smoldering gaze at you making you pause for a second before he says “please, what?” in a low octave, his voice sounding husky.
“I-I need to come,” you wail, grinding on his bulge over his rough fabric making you want more, in fact you’ve never felt this needy.
Him edging you just made it worse, you couldn't take the teasing now, you need him and you won't stop asking for it.
“please hee please I need you, I want you so badly. I can’t take it anymore!!” you beg.
He chuckles, a dark, hungry sound.
He doesn't put his fingers back in you or do anything you asked for.
Instead, he starts to kiss you, deep, demanding kisses that taste of mint and desperation.
The intensity of the kiss swallows you while leaving you breathless and your hands move to his head, running your hands through his long, lustrous black hair.
His tongue slides against yours, sucking and swirling desperately while sliding down his joggers and boxer to pull his cock out.
He pulls away from the kiss, pulling your head back away from his.
You look down into his hands and the moment you saw it, you were starstuck.
He is big.
Not big like you think, very big in a way you weren't sure if you could even take him.
It was shocking.
You knew this was coming, when you guys crossed your lines today but god he is just so big.
His cock is big, fucking standing straight, curling a little but still so so straight in way you never stood in your whole life, wow, it is hot and swollen, throbbing as the tip is in a beautifully pink color, glistening with precum as he held the shaft in his hand.
You are staring at it shamelessly, because who wouldn't look at something so beautiful and gorgeous.
“Like what you see baby?” he asks, when he caught you staring at his cock.
You snap out of your thoughts, raising your head up, eyes locking on to his eyes, as your cheeks burn from embarrassment.
“Want it inside you baby?” he questions as he feels your arousal just by looking at you face.
You nod slightly and that's what it takes before he jerks it on your pussy once, slapping his cock against it a few times, spreading his precum all over.
An unfiltered screech comes out of your throat, showing how needy you are when he slaps the tip on your pussy.
You move a little, rubbing it a little on his cock, whimpering a little.
“You want it so bad right? You’ll get it baby” he doesn't wait another second.
He grips your waist and heaves you upward and then slams you down on to his cock.
Your hands find their way to his shoulders as you scream into the crook of his neck when he buries himself, all the way to the hilt inside you in one fluid, powerful motion.
The fullness is overwhelming, a blunt pressure that hits your cervix and sends ripples of pleasure radiating through your entire lower body.
The sensation is overwhelming, the feeling of being completely filled, the stretch of your pussy, the sudden, intense heat of him deep within your pussy.
You feel your internal muscles spasm around him, clamping down tight, clenching it so tight which makes Heeseung leave a raw guttural growl out feeling you all around him.
His cock twitches inside you, showing how badly he needed this.
“Baby–fuck, so tight…you feel so good baby” he says, his hands sliding down to your ass gripping.
You stay still for a moment, both of you catching your breath, the only sound the heavy thrum of the PC fans and your synchronized gasping.
The gaming chair creaks as you begin to move, tentatively at first, lifting your hips a few inches and then sliding back down.
You only lift an inch before slamming back down, the impact making the gaming chair rock precariously.
The feeling of him filling inside you was so so good, that you didn't care about anyone hearing your moans, as your moans echo all through the room.
Your grip on his shoulder tightens as the pleasure of him being inside you, stretching you apart with his cock was the best feeling you ever felt.
The squelching and wet sounds of your pussy moving on his cock, taking him all the way down to his shaft, then moving back halfway, and falling back down, with your moans and Heeseung’s groans fill you the room.
The sounds are lewd, obscene or even pornographic, it didn't feel real.
You riding your best friend's cock feels like a dreaming true.
You slowly find your rhythm, more confident, more desperate.
Your mouth falls agape, moaning loudly every time you ride him, head falls back as the tip hits that spot that makes you see stars, your breasts bounce with every downward thrust, your hardened nipples scrape against his shirt every time.
“Yes, just like that baby” he groans as his head hits the chair, while he grips your ass and starts lifting you higher so he can move deeper.
You are desperate now, the need for release overriding everything.
The friction against your clit is intense, a searing heat that builds with every slide.
You lean forward, your hair falling over your face, your mouth finding his again.
The kiss is sloppy, desperate, the sound of your tongues clashing mixing with the wet slaps of your bodies.
Tentatively, Heeseung also starts moving his hips up, thrusting upward slowly, testing the waters to see how it would be.
And fuck it, it was so so so good.
“Ahh” you moan as the tip of his cock hits deeper in your pussy, as your walls clench around him in pleasure.
You scream into his mouth, it is so intense, your pussy takes him all the way on to his shaft.
You keep riding him until you feel that low tingling feeling in your lower stomach.
You are about to come, you needed it any minute now.
You are moving faster, breath uneven, shamelessly moaning so loudly, you are sure your neighbours could hear it but you couldn't care less.
“Ngh heee” you wail, you dont know if its pain or pleasure or all together but it was good and stretching you apart and finally you are about to come.
“Hee–hee i-m im coming!!” you choke out, the orgasm is about to come as he moves his hips faster, thrusting harder.
“Yes baby, yes, come for me, come on my cock baby” he says, holding your hips, gripping it so hard, it could leave red marks on it and speeding up the movements, slamming you down onto his cock, taking control.
“Ahh–mm yess, yess im coming!!” you throw your head back, a loud, uncontrolled cry escaping your lips as waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you breathless and shaking.
Heeseung doesnt stop, he fucks you through it, chasing his orgasm.
“Hee—” you scream so loudly, it was too much, you are overstimulating, you coat his cok, milking it all the way.
“I-i cant..too much–”
“Yess, you can, you can for me baby” his movements becoming faster, more erratic. He's grunting now, the sounds guttural and raw.
He lifts you slightly and then slams you down, the leather of the chair creaking loudly under the strain.
The sound of your pussy engulfing him is a wet, rhythmic squelch, the air being pushed out of your orifice in small, needy puffs.
“Im-im coming baby” he moves faster again and again.
“Im gonna fill you up, you’re gonna take me like a good girl and fill you up right?” he says as he looks at you and captures your lips into kiss again.
You feel him tense, his entire body turning to stone beneath you.
With one final, deep thrust that feels like it reaches your very soul, he lets out a loud, guttural roar, his entire body tensing.
He gives one final, massive thrust, burying himself as deep as possible as you feel the hot, pulsing jets of his cum hitting your cervix, filling you up, the liquid warmth spreading through your internals.
“Fuck–take it baby”
You moan as he fills you up, while he grunts and finally comes undone inside you which felt so so so good.
As the intensity fades, he doesn't move.
He keeps you pressed against him, his heart hammering against your ribs.
You can feel his cock slowly softening inside you, though he remains deep within. A small amount of semen and lubricant leaks from the junction of your bodies, dripping onto the black leather of the chair with a soft patter.
“That was–soo good” you whisper to him.
He smiles, that goddamn smile that melts you right away, probably even your bones.
He pushes a wet hair stand behind your hair as he finally speaks.
“Very good. Are you happy?” he asks and that genuinely made you feel happy that he was asking your opinion.
You nod, you look wrecked so did he, both of you breathing heavily, faces flushed.
“Are you ok?” he asks you sweetly after showing his dark side which you loved and so did you like that gentleness in his which made your heart filp and beat faster.
You blush as you nod and hide your face in the crook of his neck.
“Dont hide baby” he pulls you back cupping your face.
“Mm” you whine sweetly.
He kisses your forehead gently.
"So," he says, a small, tired smile playing on his lips. "I think I lost that match."
You let out a soft laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder.
"Worth it?"
"The best loss of my life," he whispers, kissing your temple.
Heeseug twitches inside you, making you whimper.
“You’re still inside me hee” you say to him as it hurts a little but don't bother but it's still sticky and messy altogether.
But then he shrugs it off as if it's nothing, you frown and ask him “what?” and try to pull away.
He doesn't let you, he slams you back down as you scream and squeal from shock.
“Hee–” then while you are still inside him, he abruptly stands up, while still holding you tightly around your waist and still inside you.
“Ready for round 2 baby?” he asks as you widen your eyes in shock while his cock gets stiff all the way till his shaft again.
“Hee~” he crashes his lips on to yours slamming you onto the wall and starts moving inside you.
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ summary :: being single in your teenage years made you miss out on many things, one of them being the kissing game with the soda flavored lipsticks. so, now that you finally have a boyfriend, you decide to play it. however, the game quickly escalates into something more...
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ genre :: smut (mdni!)
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ tags :: fingering, small fluff, missionary, p in v, jake is head over heels for y/n, squirting, small to no plot, pwp, kissing, making out, overstimulation, masturbation, protected sex, nicknames, cum eating, finger sucking, dry humping (kinda)
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ wc :: 3.1k
now playing :: kiss it better — rihanna
With the plastic box tugged under your arm, you typed in the message quickly as you were waiting for the traffic lights to turn green so you could finally rush home.
you : i got the thing. ill be home in probs like 5 mins.
You couldn't deny the nervousness that took over your body. The lights finally changed, and you snatched the box out from under your arms and threw it in your tote bag. You made your way to the other side of the road with quick steps, getting lost in the big New York crowd.
Just another busy Friday morning. Every person has a different goal. A different place they go to. Most probably go to work, but who knows? Maybe they are on their way to one of their loved ones in the hospital, or they are going on a date (even though it's eleven in the morning).
Personally, you were on your way to your new apartment. You freshly moved out of the college dorm to your own apartment, and it was pretty hard to pretend like you felt sad for your roommate while she was sobbing in your arms when you told her the news. The truth was that you were straight up cheesing inside the whole time. You couldn't wait to have your own personal space, without anyone interrupting your study sessions or series binge sessions. But the best part : you finally had enough time to be with your boyfriend alone.
Jake was your first ever boyfriend, which was a kinda embarrassing thing to admit at the age of twenty. However, you felt like you just entered your youth, even if it was late. You tried to ignore that part. People usually do cringy teenager type of things when they are sixteen, but you missed out on that.
You weren't the type to complain a lot, but one day you found yourself spilling your heart out to Jake about it while your head was in his lap, his fingers caressing your head as he nodded understandingly.
That's where the idea came from : the lipsmackers, now tossed in your bag next to your breakfast you got from the bakery on the corner of the street.
It was Jake’s idea. He said, and I quote “We should start doing those ‘cringy’ things, then”
You wanted to say ‘no’ so bad, because still, you are in college, a twenty year old independent woman who has a successful career in front of her. You almost did say no, but thinking it through, it can't hurt, right?
So, Jake made you write a list of things you missed out on when you were a teenager. The things your friends would brag about to you, knowing damn well you are a lonely loser. The things that made you so insecure you couldn't stop scratching your arms.
Lip Smackers were on top of the list. It was so nostalgic, at a time they were all over the stores. Well, you never had anyone to do it with. Until now.
You push down the bell next to your apartment door. Jake should be there, because he spent last night with you. You binged all the three Maze Runner movies, and neither of you noticed how much the time passed. By the time you finished, it was already four am.
Soon, the door opens and the most gorgeous boy you have ever seen in your life smiles at you. Then he steps closer and wants to press a kiss on your lips, but you stop him.
“Remember, no kissing” you say, teasingly. You and Jake decided to not kiss until you got the lipsticks. It was anticipating, because you made the list two days ago, and you kiss, like, all the time.
He rolls his eyes, but the corners of his lips are tugging upwards “Someone is strict” he comments, leading you in the apartment and closing the door behind you.
You set your bag down by the table, pulling your breakfast and the plastic box out of it. Jake glances at it, then his eyes find you again. “So? When do we start? I don't think I can handle another day without kissing you”
He steps closer, grabbing you by your waist. And he moves dangerously close, his lips breezing your skin ever so slightly.
You look up at him, smiling “We can do it now”
⋆｡‧˚ʚ ୨ৎ ɞ˚‧｡⋆
You fiddle with the box a bit before you can open it, your hands shaking. Jake is sitting on the bed in front of you, and you could tell he just can't wait, because his back is perfectly straight and he has his hands on his knees as they are crossed.
Your heart is thumping in your chest. You don't even know how to play this game properly. It sounds so dumb — a grown woman being anxious to play a kissing game with her boyfriend. It's straight up ridiculous. But the lipsticks bring back so many memories, and most of them being bad, you just can't help your feelings.
When you finally manage to get the lipsticks out of the box, you look up at Jake.
“Okay. Cover your eyes. And don't cheat” You tell him, and he nods as he lowers his head and buries his head in his hands.
You look down at the six different lipsticks, indicated in vivid colors. You end up picking the sprite one first. As you apply it on your lips, you taste it a little bit, the sweet flavor getting on your tongue. It tastes horrible, like every candy from the 2000s. It's not much of a surprise.
You throw the green bottle back to the other ones, mixing them together.
“You can look now,” You insist.
Jake looks up faster than the speed of light, his eyes landing on your glistening lips. He's so freaking cute when he's all excited but can't get what he wants yet.
You smile softly “You are really excited”
“I am” he doesn't deny it, he gets on his knees so he can crawl towards you.
He moves slowly, almost hesitant like it's your first kiss ever. Like it's his first kiss ever. He gulps nervously, Adam's apple bobbing visibly in his throat. Jake leans down and presses his soft lips onto yours. He doesn't move at first, and you don't either, because you have no idea what to do.
After a few moments, you feel his tongue darting out and licking your bottom lip. He grabs onto your shoulders and pulls you closer to taste it better, but his tongue only licks your lips and he's very careful with it.
He pulls back, looking up for a moment. “Hm” he humms, thinking “I think… Sprite? Maybe?”
You nod heavily, feeling your cheeks getting red. “You got it right on the first try. That's good”
“Alright, next one” He hurries, lowering his head again.
You let out a small laugh, picking out the next lipstick. You hesitate for a moment, should it be Coca Cola or Fanta? Coca cola is an iconic flavor, he would get it fast, meaning he wouldn't kiss you for long… But Fanta is his favorite. Maybe he would get that even faster.
But again, Fanta is his favorite. Bingo.
You pick up the neon orange bottle with more confidence now, smearing it all over your lips. Once. Then twice. Then thrice.
“I'm done” You smile and close your eyes, this game is so fun after all.
You keep your eyes closed but hear the bed creaking under his weight as he crawls closer again. He's so so slow, it makes you want to pull him closer as fast as possible. It feels like he's doing it on purpose.
He leans down, your eyes are still closed. You feel his hot breath hitting your skin, your slick lips offered to him. His lips feel softer this time on yours, he kisses you like he's trying to hold back. You know it, it happened before. It makes you feel a little more excited, knowing he's trying his best to control himself.
He licks your lips again. Once, then twice. Jake tilts his head slightly and licks your lips once again, this time he licks into your mouth. It's a bit awkward, he’s hesitant with it, but you let him. His hands find the side of your burning hot cheeks, and he tilts your head upwards for more availability. The angle feels better now, and you straight up make out at this point. His tongue finds yours continuously, and his lips are moving hungryly on yours.
He kneels between your legs, but you feel him crawl closer, gesturing you to move back. And you do, until your back hits the bedframe. The kiss never breaks, his movements are far away from hesitant. Jake moves his hands from your cheeks to your waists, squeezing it slightly.
“This one is… good…” he manages to spit out, then he dives onto the softness of your lips again.
Jake bites down your bottom lip, and you can't stop a small moan from getting out. You let your hands wander and you ran them through his soft brown hair, grabbing onto the back of his head to push him closer.
His hands feel hot against your skin as he pushes your shirt upwards.
He breaks the kiss, and you finally open your eyes to meet his. His pupils are blown wide and his whole face is red like he's tipsy, drunk on your lips. Not to talk about his glossy lips, the lipstick messily smeared all around his mouth, some of it on his cheeks.
“Can I take this off?” He asks softly, tugging your shirt.
You nod and help him, then your eyes flick to his yellow-black striped shirt. A silent gesture, but he gets what you want immediately and takes it off. He tosses both of the shirts aside and fiddles with his zipper. Your eyes track his every movement.
“Fuck” he cusses when he finally unbuttons his jeans and pulls it down, throwing it aside.
The next thing you know is that he’s on your neck, sucking on the smooth skin. It will probably leave marks later.
He works his way down with his mouth, and you take a deep sigh before you look down at his back, watching how his back muscles flex with every movement, every time he leans lower and every time he moves his hands on your hips.
“Jake… Please” you beg. He looks up at you, his fingers hooking onto your pants as he pulls them down without teasing.
His tone is soft when he asks “Please what, angel?”
You swallow, squirming in your place “I want you”
He smirks up, and moves back up to kiss you. As he kisses you, he still feels the vague taste of the Fanta on his tongue. He grinds his hips down, you feel his bulge against your panties, fabric to fabric.
“What do you want from me? Be specific?” He tilts his head, looking at you with those big puppy eyes.
You are sure you are about to melt. Why is he soft and cute, but also so handsome and hot at the same time? How is that possible?
You lick your lips, looking down at his body hovering above you. “I want you inside of me, please, Jake” you whisper.
He smiles, grinding down again. His bulge presses to your wet panties, the fabric is — gosh — so thin.
“Hm, what a nasty girl…” he mumbles, kissing on your cheek. “I gotta prepare you for that, then, because I don't think you can take it right away”
He drags a line with his index finger across your chest, between your breasts, across your stomach, and then he plays with the lace of your panties for a while. Jake sees the anticipation on your face, and it makes him nearly laugh. He ends up letting out a small giggle as he pulls the panties down.
How could he ever tease you rudely when you look at him so softly?
He circles on your wet clit, and you let your head fall back on the bedframe. When you are about to catch your breath and get yourself together, you feel two of his long fingers sliding inside your dripping hole. Your hand flies to grab his muscular arm, letting out a moan.
“Jake!” you scream when he curls his fingers inside, just the right way. He moves them fastly, setting up a rhythm. You clench around his fingers, the stretch makes you see stars when he scissors his fingers impatiently.
As he plumps his fingers inside with his right hand, he holds you in place with his other one, his thumb caressing your stomach.
When you are about to burst, your mind going dizzier than ever, he pulls his fingers out.
You take deep breaths, chest rising and falling heavily. He moves his hand up to your face and pushes his fingers inside of your mouth suddenly, forcing you to suck on them. Your mind is already so fucked up that you just do whatever he tells you to do. “Good…good girl” he mumbles, the sight of you sucking on his digits and tasting yourself turning him on more than it should be.
“Do you think you are ready now?” Jake asks but he's already pulling his boxers down, out of breath.
You nod, and watch him as he reaches to the bedside table and pulls out a condom and lube. He rolls up the condom and smears lube over his cock, making it slippery. Jake lines up against your entrance and he sucks his breath in as he pushes in. He always does this, you’ve noticed it already.
You moan as your muscles tense, grabbing the sheets next to you to keep yourself steady. He stops, a small whine leaving his mouth.
“Are you okay?” He eyes you up and down, and his gaze sets on your face. You look at him, your eyes half lidded and your gaze hazy.
“Yeah” you breath, barely audible.
But Jake hears it, and he starts to move slowly. Even though he stretched you out with his fingers, you still feel like your walls are about to break at any moment.
You arch your back as he pushes again and bottoms out slowly. You feel him slightly shaking, a sign that he's still trying to control himself.
His shaky breaths caresses your skin.
“Jake” you mumble out, and he immediately looks at you. “You can go faster” you add.
You don't need to tell him twice, he picks his pace up and starts going in a faster rhythm, kneeling up on the bed so he can fuck inside you deeper.
You moan out his name as he spreads your legs wider and lifts your hips. This angle makes it better to reach your G spot with every thrust, his movements getting smoother, the lube helping him out a lot.
“So pretty and tight for me” Jake digs his nails onto your calves and moves them around his waist, gesturing you to lock them around him so he can get deeper. And you do it, trying to ignore the fact that your legs are beginning to give up and tremble.
Jake moves effortlessly in and out of you, and you open your teary eyes to look up at him, watching as he bites down his bottom lip. His muscles tense and flex with every move, and he keeps his eyes on your smooth wetness between your legs. The lube is mixed with your juices by now, and he can't get enough of the sight.
The bed creacks every time he bottoms out, the bed frame hitting the wall progressively. You grab the sheets like your life depends on it, the lipsticks slowly rolling to the edge of the bed until they fall down on the floor with a thud.
You feel how you are falling apart slowly, your legs are undeniably trembling. Jake moves his hands from under your thighs to the curve of your ass, caressing in slightly.
“Take it” he commands, thrusting hard.
“Shit, Jake I’m going to—” without being able to finish the sentence, it happens. It's so sudden that you don't even realize what happens.
Not until Jake stops his movements and pulls out. He leans down and presses a kiss on your neck, giggling “I didn't know I could make you squirt”
You widen your eyes, the adrenaline still rushing through your body when you look down at your legs. Jake kneels up again and starts to stroke himself, looking at your pussy being covered in your juices you squirted out. Jake is also covered in it, his dick and abdomen glistering.
Jake whimpers as he strokes himself, biting down his bottom lip. He comes into the condom with a whine escaping his lips a few moments later. He spanks your cunt with his dick, slightly pushing it between your wet folds. Then, he collapses onto the bed and steadies himself by putting his palms next to you on the bed.
You are still dizzy and high by your enormous orgasm, probably your biggest one yet. You are also kinda shocked and embarrassed by how you ruined the sheets, but it seems like Jake isn't bothered by it.
He lays down next to you, exhausted. You both turn to look at each other on the bed, just watching each other gasping for air.
“I'm… sorry” you say after a few silent minutes, referring to the way your sheets are all wet now.
“Sorry? You don't have to be sorry” Jake smiles at your awkwardness. “This was probably our best session yet, if you’d ask me”
You can't help but smirk at that. “Yeah?”
Jake nods “Yes. Next time we play this guessing game we should spice it up a little”
You cock an eyebrow “Spice it up? This wasn't spicy enough?”
“What I mean is that next time you should put it on your other lips”
Your jaw nearly drops, and you hit his arm playfully. You try to hide how the idea doesn't make you disgusted at all, no, you will probably even think of it more than you should later.
“You are such a freak, Jake Sim”
“But you love it” he leans closer, pressing a kiss on your forehead.
And you smile, feeling blessed that you have such a good boyfriend you can do things like this with. “I do”
Content+Warnings: arranged marriage to lovers,smut,pwop,breeding kink,dom!hoon,virgin reader,hoon hittin it raw,oral(f!receiving).
Wc:5.7k
MNDI.
NOTE: Requested by anon,not proofread, pure self-indulgent filth, Sunghoon is a gentleman even when he’s losing his mind.like+reblogs r appreciated˖ ࣪ . 🦢.
The wedding was beautiful.
Everyone said so. Crystal chandeliers dripping from the ceiling of the Grand Hyatt ballroom, your mother’s vintage Dior gown altered to perfection, Sunghoon in a custom Tom Ford tux that made him look like he’d stepped out of a fashion editorial. Photographers, CEOs, politicians—everyone who mattered was there to witness the union of Park & Co. Luxury Group and your family’s cutting-edge tech empire.
A perfect match on paper.
A merger disguised as matrimony.
You smiled the entire night like the well-bred heiress you were. Sunghoon smiled too—polite, camera-ready, the kind of smile that never reached his eyes. He barely touched you. A hand at the small of your back for photos, a chaste kiss on the cheek when the crowd cheered. That was it.
And now, three weeks later, you’re standing in the middle of his—your—penthouse at the top of Seoul’s most exclusive tower, wearing nothing but an oversized silk slip and fuzzy slippers, trying to figure out how to use the espresso machine that probably cost more than your first car.
Sunghoon is already gone. Again.
He leaves before sunrise most days, comes back after midnight. The only evidence he exists is the faint trace of his cologne in the marble hallway and the occasional sticky note on the fridge that says things like Dinner is in the warmer or Meeting ran late. Don’t wait up. in his neat, elegant handwriting.
You’re not stupid. You know what this is. An arrangement. Two families shaking hands over your heads while the lawyers drew up the contracts. You’re the pretty, fertile bridge between empires. He’s the cold, untouchable heir who never wanted a wife in the first place.
But God, you’re trying.
You’ve always been the good girl. The one who baked cookies for the staff on holidays, who graduated top of her class in business but never raised her voice. The one whose body developed early and never quite listened to the rules of “elegant restraint.” Wide hips that sway when you walk, a plush ass that fills out every pencil skirt, full breasts that strain against even the most modest necklines. You’ve spent your whole life trying to dress it down—high necklines, loose fits, dark colors. Still, people stared.
Sunghoon? He hasn’t stared once.
Not until tonight.
It’s past 11 p.m. when you hear the elevator ding.
You’re in the kitchen, barefoot, wearing one of his white dress shirts as an apron because you spilled flour on your slip while attempting to make his favorite japchae from the recipe his mother sent you. The shirt hits mid-thigh, sleeves rolled up, top three buttons undone because it’s hot from the stove. Your hair is piled on top of your head with a claw clip, a few strands sticking to your neck from the steam.
You don’t hear him come in at first. You’re humming softly, hips moving to the quiet lo-fi playlist playing from the speaker, bending over to check the oven when—
“Smells good.”
His voice is low, rough from the long day. You straighten up so fast you almost hit your head on the range hood.
Sunghoon stands at the edge of the open kitchen, tie loosened, jacket slung over one arm, the top buttons of his black shirt undone. His sharp eyes—those glacier eyes everyone calls “intimidating”—flick over you once. Slow. Like he’s seeing you for the first time.
You tug at the hem of his shirt self-consciously. It barely covers anything. “I—I thought you’d be late again. Made dinner. Or… late-night dinner. Whatever.”
He doesn’t answer right away. Just sets his jacket on the island stool and walks closer. You can smell the city on him—cold night air, expensive leather, the faint trace of whiskey from whatever business dinner he just left.
His gaze drops.
Not to your face. To the way the shirt rides up when you shift your weight, exposing the soft curve where your thighs meet your ass. The way the fabric stretches across your chest, the faint outline of your nipples because you’re not wearing a bra and the kitchen is warm.
You see the exact moment something in his brain short-circuits.
His jaw flexes. Once. Twice.
“Sunghoon?” you ask softly, voice the same sweet, slightly breathy tone you always use when you’re nervous. Innocent. Like you have no idea what you look like right now. Because you don’t. You never have.
He clears his throat. “You didn’t have to cook.”
“I wanted to.” You smile, small and hopeful, and turn to grab a plate. The motion makes the shirt ride higher. He sees the full, plush swell of your ass, the way the silk clings to the dip of your waist, the generous curve of your hips.
Breeding material.
The thought slams into him so hard he actually grips the edge of the counter.
You’re his wife. On paper. Untouched. Sheltered. The kind of girl who blushes when someone says “fuck” in a movie. And yet your body was built for exactly what his family wanted from this marriage: soft, fertile, made to carry heirs and look devastating while doing it.
He hates how much that turns him on.
You set the plate in front of him, unaware. “Eat before it gets cold, okay? I’ll clean up—”
“Sit.”
It’s not a request. His voice is low, almost hoarse.
You blink those big, doe eyes at him. “Huh?”
“Sit down, Y/N.”
You obey instantly, sliding onto the stool across from him like the good little wife you’re trying so hard to be. The shirt rides up your thighs. He stares. Doesn’t even pretend not to.
The silence stretches.
You fidget. “Is… is something wrong? Did I do it wrong?”
Sunghoon exhales through his nose. He looks like he’s fighting a war in his head. “You’re wearing my shirt.”
“Oh.” Your cheeks go pink. “I’m sorry, I spilled flour on mine and I didn’t want to wake the maid and—”
“Stop.” He cuts you off. His eyes are darker now. “Stop apologizing for existing in my house.”
Your lips part. Innocent confusion written all over your pretty face. “But it’s your shirt…”
He stands up slowly, walks around the island until he’s right in front of you. Towering. You have to tilt your head back to look at him. He smells like sin and restraint.
“You have any idea what you look like right now?” he murmurs.
You shake your head, genuinely lost.
Sunghoon’s hand lifts. His knuckles brush the side of your thigh where the shirt ends, barely there. You shiver.
“Plush little ass in my shirt,” he says, voice dropping an octave. “Tits spilling out the top. Hips like they were made to be grabbed. And you’re just… humming and cooking like a fucking 1950s housewife.”
Your breath hitches. No one has ever spoken to you like this.
“I—I can change—”
“Don’t.” His fingers tighten on your thigh. “Don’t you dare.”
He’s hard. You can see the bulge straining against his slacks, and the realization makes your stomach flip. You’re a virgin. You’ve never even kissed anyone properly before the wedding kiss that lasted half a second. But your body knows what it wants. It’s been aching for weeks every time he walked past you in the hallway smelling like heaven and distance.
He hauls you up onto the counter in one smooth motion, your ass landing on the cool marble with a soft gasp. The shirt bunches around your waist. He steps between your spread thighs like he belongs there.
His mouth crashes into yours—nothing chaste about it this time.Hungry. Possessive. His tongue slides against yours and you whimper into the kiss, hands fisting his shirt. He tastes like whiskey and want. One big hand slides up your thigh, cups the full cheek of your ass and squeezes hard enough to make you moan.
“Fuck,” he breathes against your lips. “This ass. Been driving me insane for weeks. Every time you bend over in those little shorts you wear to bed…”
He kisses down your neck, sucking marks into the skin like he’s claiming territory. His other hand palms your breast through the shirt, thumb circling your nipple until it’s stiff and aching.
“You’re built like a wet dream,” he mutters, almost angry. “Wide hips perfect for carrying my kids. Tits so full they’d leak when you’re pregnant. And you’re sweet. So fucking sweet it makes me want to ruin you.”
You’re panting, head spinning. “Sunghoon… I’ve never—”
“I know.” He pulls back just enough to look at you. His eyes are black with lust but there’s something soft underneath. “I know you’re a virgin, baby. That’s why I stayed away. But I can’t anymore. Not when you walk around looking like my personal breeding material in my own goddamn kitchen.”
He drops to his knees.
You squeak when he spreads your thighs wider, pushes the shirt up to your waist. No panties. You never wear them to bed. His breath ghosts over your bare pussy and you tremble.
“So pretty,” he murmurs, almost reverent. “Look at this little cunt. Never been touched and it’s already wet for me.”
He leans in and licks a slow, broad stripe up your folds. Your back arches off the counter with a broken moan. He does it again, firmer, tongue flicking your clit on every pass until you’re shaking.
“Sunghoon—oh god—”
He eats you like a man starved. No hesitation, no teasing. Just hungry, filthy licks and sucks that have you grinding against his face without shame. His hands grip your hips, holding you down as he devours you—lapping at your entrance, sucking your clit, groaning like you taste better than anything he’s ever had.
You come embarrassingly fast, thighs clamping around his head, crying out his name like a prayer. He doesn’t stop. He keeps going until you’re sobbing, oversensitive and twitching.
Only then does he stand up, lips shiny with you, and kisses you so you can taste yourself.
“First time I make my wife come and it’s on the kitchen counter,” he says with a dark little laugh. “We’re just getting started.”
He lifts you like you weigh nothing—your legs wrap around his waist instinctively—and carries you to the bedroom. The master suite you’ve been sleeping in alone for three weeks.
He lays you on the bed like you’re precious, then strips. Shirt. Belt. Pants. You watch, wide-eyed, as his cock springs free—thick, long, flushed dark at the tip and already leaking. You’ve never seen one in real life. It looks obscene. Perfect.
Sunghoon crawls over you, caging you in. “Still okay?” he asks, voice softer now. “We can stop. I’ll jerk off in the shower like I have been every night since the wedding.”
You shake your head, reaching up to cup his face. “I want this. I want you. Please… make me yours for real.”
He kisses you slow and deep, then reaches into the nightstand for lube and a condom. You stop his hand.
“I’m on the pill,” you whisper, cheeks burning. “For… for the marriage. They said it was better if i… .”you stutter trying to find a suitable word.
His eyes flash. The breeding kink he’s been trying to ignore roars back to life.
“No condom,” he growls. “Not tonight. Not ever if you let me. Want to feel you raw. Want to fill this pretty pussy until it leaks.”
You nod frantically.
He slicks himself up anyway, just enough, then notches the head of his cock at your entrance. He pushes in slow—inch by inch—watching your face the entire time. You’re so tight it makes his jaw clench.
“Relax, baby. Breathe. That’s it… good girl.”
It burns, but the stretch feels right. When he bottoms out, hips flush against yours, you both moan. He stays there, buried to the hilt, letting you adjust.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he whispers. “So warm. So fucking tight. Like you were made for me.”
He starts moving—shallow thrusts at first, then deeper, harder. Every drag of his cock against your walls makes stars burst behind your eyes. He angles his hips and hits a spot that makes you cry out.
“Right there? Yeah? Gonna make you come on my cock like a good little wife.”
He fucks you harder. The wet slap of skin on skin fills the room. His hands are everywhere—squeezing your tits, pinching your nipples, gripping your ass to pull you onto him deeper. He leans down and sucks a nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing, while his cock pistons in and out.
You come again, clenching around him so hard he groans your name like a curse.
He doesn’t stop. He flips you over onto your stomach, pulls your hips up so your ass is in the air, and slides back in with one smooth thrust. The new angle makes you scream into the pillow.
“Look at this ass,” he pants, spanking one cheek lightly, then harder when you moan. “Bouncing so pretty for me. Gonna fuck you full every night. Keep you dripping with my cum so everyone knows who you belong to.”
You’re babbling now—yes, please, Sunghoon, more—lost in the pleasure. He reaches around and rubs your clit in tight circles.
“Come again. Want to feel you milk me.”
You do. Shaking, sobbing, pussy fluttering around his cock. He follows right after, burying himself to the hilt and coming with a guttural groan. You feel the hot rush of him inside you—thick, endless pulses that make your belly feel warm and full.
He collapses over you, careful not to crush you, and presses soft kisses to your shoulder blades.
After that night, everything changes.
Sunghoon still works long hours, but now he comes home early enough to eat the dinners you make. He eats you for dessert on the kitchen island at least twice a week. He fucks you in the shower, bent over the marble vanity while you watch yourselves in the mirror. He takes you on the balcony under the Seoul skyline, your silk robe hiked up around your waist while he growls filthy promises about knocking you up against the glass.
He’s still the same cold, elegant CEO in public. But at home he’s insatiable—hands always on your ass, mouth always on your neck, cock always ready to remind you who you belong to.
One night, after he’s fucked you slow and deep in the big bed, he lies behind you, spooned up close, hand splayed possessively over your lower belly.
“You know why I stayed away at first?” he murmurs into your hair.
You hum, sleepy and satisfied.
“Because the second I saw you at the altar. those hips, that ass, those tits—I knew I’d never be able to keep my hands off you. Knew I’d want to breed you the first chance I got. And you were looking at me with those big innocent eyes like you’d never had a dirty thought in your life.” He kisses the back of your neck. “Made me feel like a pervert for wanting my own wife so badly.”
You turn in his arms, smiling softly. “I’m not innocent anymore.”
His eyes darken with fresh heat. “No. You’re not.” He rolls you under him again, already hard. “But you’re still my sweet little wife. And I’m never letting you go.”
You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in.
“Good,” you whisper against his lips. “Because I was made to be yours.”
And you were.
The merger thrived. The papers called it a love match. Only the two of you knew the truth: it started as an arrangement, but the moment Sunghoon saw you in his kitchen wearing nothing but his shirt and that body built for sin and softness, it became something else entirely.
