Triple Trouble Part One-
After two years studying law and psychology in London, Y/n returned to her hometown to find her younger brother Niki utterly convinced he had “mentally matured.” He bragged nonstop about his new older friends—Heeseung, Jay, and Jake—claiming they were her age and treated him as a true equal. To Y/n, though, he was still the same dopey, scruffy, sweet little brother she’d always known. She simply nodded along, humoring his delusions, unaware that these friends he spoke of so often would soon step out of his stories and change everything…
Brothers best friend!Lee Heeseung + Park Jay + Sim Jake x fem!reader
MDNI
Word count- I honestly don’t know… probably like 15-25k😭😭
Genre- Fluff, Angst, smut.
Warning- HEAVY tension, manipulation?, kissing, heavy make out, fingering, teasing, overstimulation, begging.
Inspired by - ‘BEST FRIENDS’ by @sangbubble , ‘RENT FREE’ by @swiftjay23
Playlist linked below-
(It’s a mixture of everything!!! So if your not a fan of that just listen ur playlist, or preferred songs, also it a random order so I’d prefer of you shuffle play it!!)
Two weeks had passed since you moved back home, and life in the old family house was finally settling into a comfortable rhythm. With your parents busy running their business and constantly away on trips, the place felt quiet and spacious—just the two of you for the whole summer. Neither of you could really be called kids anymore; you were twenty-one, fresh from two years of studying law and psychology in London, and Niki was nineteen, brimming with the newfound confidence he never tired of showing off.
Dinner that evening was simple but satisfying: steaming bowls of ramyeon, topped with leftover chicken from the night before. The air was warm, and for a while, the only sound was the clink of chopsticks—until Niki’s phone began to buzz again. And again. The screen lit up relentlessly, vibrating against the wooden table as message after message poured in from his beloved group chat.
You bit your lip, trying to focus on your food, but the constant hums and chimes grated on your nerves. Just as you took another bite, another sharp notification tone cut through the air—and that was the last straw.
“Can’t you just put your phone on silent!” you snapped, setting your chopsticks down with a sharp clink, frustration bubbling over.
Niki barely flinched, glancing briefly at the screen before shrugging casually. “Sorry—it’s the guys. They keep messaging about dinner tomorrow.”
“Dinner tomorrow?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, I’m going to see them tomorrow evening,” he said with a nod, shoving another mouthful of noodles.
You watched him for a moment, letting out a noncommittal hum. “Hm. Okay,” you said finally, shrugging it off and returning to your meal.
Suddenly, Niki straightened up in his seat, eyes lighting up like he’d just had the most brilliant idea in the world. “Oh my god!”
You groaned before he could even finish. “Oh god, what?”
“This is perfect!” he beamed, leaning right across the table toward you. “You can come with me tomorrow!”
Your face fell completely. “What—no! No way,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “I’m not meeting your friends Niki, they’re your friends for a reason.”
“These guys are different! You’d like them! They’re from the other side of town and you’d get along with them!” Niki ranted, his voice bright with excitement.
You groaned again, rolling your eyes. “Why? Because they’re my age?” you scoffed.
You stood before the full-length mirror, turning slowly to take in every detail of your reflection. You’d opted for a look that felt effortlessly casual yet deliberately polished: a fitted black off-the-shoulder top, accented with a delicate gold detail on one shoulder that caught the light just right. It sat tucked neatly into dark-wash jeans—cut just loose enough to feel relaxed, but tailored enough to flatter—cuffed slightly over sleek black heeled boots. Your makeup was soft and warm, enhancing your features without feeling heavy, and your long brown hair fell in loose, bouncy curls that framed your face perfectly.
You caught yourself lingering a little longer than usual, smoothing down the fabric of your top. Who knows, a tiny, traitorous voice whispered in the back of your mind, maybe Niki’s friends will actually be cute. The thought had barely settled before you cringed, shaking your head to clear it. Gross. They were Niki’s friends. That automatically disqualified them—there was no way they’d be anything worth looking twice at.
“Y/n! Hurry up! The reservation is for 7:30 and it’s already 7:06!” Niki’s voice echoed sharply from the bottom of the stairs, thick with impatience.
“Niki, calm down! The restaurant’s only twenty minutes away!” you scoffed back, leaning in to swipe a layer of glossy lip across your lips, tossing the tube into your bag. You finished with a spritz of warm vanilla perfume, the scent wrapping around you like a soft veil, before heading down the stairs.
“I’m driving,” you announced firmly, snatching the car keys right out of his hand before he could protest. Niki’s face twisted into a deep frown, but you ignored him, already heading for the door.
You pulled up to the restaurant and stepped through the front entrance.
And that’s when you saw them.
Three men sat at a table across the dining room, and the moment their eyes landed on Niki, their faces lit up with genuine warmth. You felt your breath hitch in your throat. Someone pinch me right now, you thought, your mind reeling. There was absolutely no way these breathtaking people were friends with your brother.
You walked toward them, and you found yourself slowing, rooted to the spot as you took in the three striking figures waiting for you.
“Y/n, these are the guys,” Niki said, nudging you gently, breaking you out of your stunned trance. You blinked, refocusing, and met the gaze of the three of them, forcing a soft, polite smile to your face.
“Hey… uh, nice to meet you all. I’m Y/n,” you said, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest.
“Y/n, this is Heeseung”
Your eyes locked with his, and your heart gave a strange, heavy thud. He was stunning—tall, with expressive round eyes, a perfectly straight nose, and a graceful line to his neck that caught your attention instantly. A playful, charming smile tugged at his lips, and you felt your own smile soften instinctively in response.
“This is Jay.”
You shifted your gaze. He was slightly shorter than Heeseung but still tall and commanding. His smile revealed deep dimples that softened his sharp, defined jawline, and his skin glowed with a rich, warm honey tone that looked almost luminous under the restaurant lights. You offered a quiet nod, trying to keep your composure.
“And this is Jake.”
Finally, you looked at him. He stood about the same height as Jay, but with a paler, porcelain complexion that gave him an almost ethereal look—like something out of a fairytale. Thick, dark hair fell in soft waves just above his eyebrows, framing a face with a sharp, elegant nose and lips that looked perfectly shaped. He truly looked like a prince.
You glanced over at Niki, slightly dazed, before turning your attention back to the three of them. “It’s really nice to meet you all. Niki has told me quite a bit about you,” you said, your voice regaining its warmth.
You moved to take your seats. You settled in between Jake and Niki, feeling the space open up comfortably. Across from you sat Heeseung, his gaze steady and unmissable, while Jay sat directly opposite Niki, the candles on the table casting a cozy glow over everyone’s faces.
“So Y/n, we heard you study law and psychology,” Jay speaks up, a warm smile pulling at his lips that shows off his dimples.
“Yeah, I’m starting my third year now. Gonna do my last two years back here, but I was in London before,” you reply, meeting his eyes with a nod.
“London?” Heeseung’s eyes light up instantly, and you glance over at him.
“Mm-hmm,” you hum.
“London’s literally my dream city,” he grins. “I really wanna perform there someday.”
You can’t help but smile back. “Perform?” you ask, tilting your head, curious to hear more.
“We’re all music majors,” Jake chimes in softly. You turn to look at him—this boy who looks like a prince—and notice he’s staring down at his hands, fingers fidgeting slightly in his lap. Wait, is he nervous? you wonder.
“They’re the guys who helped me out so much in music workshops during my freshman year,” Niki pipes up proudly. “Back when you were still in London.”
Your face lights up. “Oh, That’s so cool,” you say, softly smiling at the three of them.
You rest your elbows lightly on the table, sweep a handful of hair behind your shoulder, and let your fingers drift down to play with the pendant of your necklace while glancing at the menu.
Niki, Jake, and Jay start debating whether the spicy stir-fry noodles are better than the kimchi fried rice with chicken, but you can barely focus. Your heart’s still pounding—you can’t believe three guys this good-looking are sitting right here with you. Especially Heeseung across the table; you keep catching yourself staring. And to him? You look absolutely stunning—your soft features, your smile, your eyes, your hair… he can’t seem to get enough.
“So, how come we never met before?” Heeseung asks out of the blue.
Your eyes snap up from the menu to meet his, and your heart practically skips a beat. “I… uh, I was in London,” you manage to get out.
“Yeah, I get that,” he chuckles lowly. “But I’m pretty sure you came back for holidays and stuff over these two years.”
Damn, that chuckle does something to you—it’s hot. “Oh… yeah, I did,” you nod.
“So how come our paths never crossed?” His question hangs in the air. How am I supposed to tell him I just thought Niki was bragging about having older friends?
“Well… Niki always told me you guys were super busy,” you shrug.
“Hmm, I see,” Heeseung hums thoughtfully. You look back down at your menu.
The rest of the dinner flows easily enough. Jay and Jake ask you loads of questions about your studies and what London was like, keeping the conversation light and friendly. Heeseung stays quieter, but his presence is impossible to ignore—every so often he’ll chime in with a comment or a question, his voice low and steady, and you’ll feel the weight of his attention on you like something tangible. You catch all three of them looking at you more than they probably should, glances that linger a little too long to be just polite, but you try your best to brush it off, nodding along as Niki rambles enthusiastically about how your homemade ramyeon is basically a work of art. But beneath all the casual chatting and laughter, there’s a thick, quiet hum of tension in the air—moments that stretch out slow and heavy, completely unseen by your brother sitting right there in the middle of it all.
And it happened with each other the three boys…
Heeseung
Niki is leaning across the table, caught up in a lively debate with Jay, his voice rising to fill the space. Without meaning to, Heeseung leans forward too, resting his forearm along the edge of the table, and his hand settles just inches away from yours. It’s such a casual, thoughtless placement, but the proximity feels electric. You can feel the warmth radiating off his skin, see the way his fingers rest loosely, as if he might reach out but hasn’t quite decided yet. You lift your gaze slowly, and find him already looking at you, his dark eyes swimming in the dim light. There’s no movement, no words—just this accidental closeness that feels far too intentional. He holds your stare, his expression calm but charged, and you feel your breath hitch, the silence between you stretching out until it feels like the whole world has narrowed down to just this: his hand so close to yours, and his eyes refusing to let you go.
Jake
You lean back slightly in your chair, turning your head just enough to catch your breath from the conversation, and your shoulder brushes lightly against Jake’s. It’s a fleeting, innocent collision, the kind that happens all the time in crowded restaurants—but neither of you shifts away. You stay exactly where you are, your sides pressed together from elbow to shoulder, sharing the same space, the same air. From the corner of your eye, you notice his breathing has deepened, just a fraction, and his gaze has dropped to the table, though his posture remains perfectly still. It feels like a secret kept in the quiet contact, a warmth that seeps into your bones and makes your pulse flutter wildly. You don’t dare move, afraid to break the spell, afraid he’ll realize how much this accidental closeness affects you. It’s heavy, silent, and incredibly intimate, hidden right in plain sight.
Jay
The overhead light catches the rim of your water glass, making it slip slightly as you reach for it. Before it can tip, Jay’s hand instinctively moves to steady the base, his fingers grazing yours for a split second longer than necessary. He pulls back almost immediately, turning his attention back to Niki as if nothing happened, but the sensation lingers—warm, fleeting, and undeniably real. You lift your eyes to his, and for a brief moment, his calm expression softens, his gaze lingering on your face with a quiet intensity that makes your stomach flip. It was just a reflex, a polite reaction, but the way he looked at you afterward turned it into something else entirely—a spark that no one else noticed, a heavy, suspended beat in time that only the two of you felt.
Sleep refused to come. You tossed and turned restlessly beneath the sheets, your mind replaying the evening over and over again—their faces, the quiet tension lingering between you, the way they seemed to occupy every corner of your thoughts. They were so beautiful, you admitted to yourself, a truth that made your pulse flutter all over again. Frustrated by your own restlessness, you let out a heavy huff, grabbed your phone from the nightstand, and unlocked the screen.
Surely they have accounts, you reasoned, curiosity getting the better of you. You navigated to your brother’s profile and tapped into his following list, scanning the names until three handles caught your eye, lighting up the dark screen:
@h.evan.lee
@jakeysim2
@park2jay
A small rush of excitement hit you—even better, their profiles were public.
You hesitated for only a second before tapping on Jake’s page first. Your eyes widened as his feed loaded. He posted often, and every photo felt like a glimpse into his world: candid shots where he looked almost unreal, his features soft yet striking; endless adorable snapshots of his dog, Layla; and quiet moments captured in recording studios. You found yourself biting down gently on your lower lip, completely mesmerized. Fuck… you breathed silently. He wasn’t just handsome—he was magnetic, and you knew deep down you were enjoying this far more than you probably should.
@jakeysim2
Next, you moved to Jay’s profile. “Holy shit…” you gasped quietly under your breath, heat rising to your cheeks. His feed was filled with gym photos, confident and sharp—he definitely knew exactly how good-looking he was. Your heart hammered against your ribs as you scrolled further, discovering more than just strength: warm selfies with his family, clips of him lost in the rhythm while playing his guitar, proving he was as talented as he was attractive. It felt like peeling back layers, and you couldn’t look away.
@park2jay
Finally, you tapped on Heeseung’s account, and your breath hitched all over again. There were group shots from parties and gatherings, him laughing easily with friends, but the solo photos stopped you cold—him in the dim light of a studio, or sitting relaxed behind the wheel of his car. Unconsciously, you pressed your thighs together, the sight of him making your head spin. He was breathtaking—that knowing, confident smirk, the depth in his eyes that seemed to look right through you. But it was his voice that truly unraveled you; he shared so many vocal covers—House of Cards by BTS, King of the Fall by The Weeknd—rich, smooth, tender, and steeped in that aching, yearning quality that settled deep in your chest.
@h.evan.lee
Your breathing grew heavier, your chest rising and falling rapidly as the thrill became almost overwhelming. It felt like too much—too many feelings, too much wanting all at once. Panicked by how consumed you felt, you tossed your phone across the bed, letting it land somewhere near the wall, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to force yourself to settle. But it was useless. Even in the dark, with the silence wrapping around you, the faces of the three of them lingered vividly in your mind, refusing to fade away.
Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, but it did little to clear the heavy, restless haze lingering in your mind. You woke with a start, your heart thrumming with the faint, tangled echoes of dreams—dreams filled with deep voices, lingering glances, and a warmth that felt far too vivid to be just your imagination. Blinking up at the ceiling, you let out a long, muffled groan into your pillow as the memories of last night came rushing back: scrolling endlessly through their profiles, the way your skin prickled at every photo, the rich, yearning sound of Heeseung’s voice looping in your head until sleep finally claimed you. Heat crawled up your neck just thinking about it; you felt exposed, as if they could somehow see every time you bit your lip or held your breath while looking at a screen.
Downstairs, the sharp scent of toast and freshly brewed coffee drifted through the hallway. Niki was already perched at the kitchen island, shoveling food into his mouth, eyes glued to his phone screen, completely oblivious to the quiet storm his three friends had stirred up inside you.
“Morning,” he mumbled, barely glancing up.
“Morning,” you replied, your voice coming out a little tighter than usual. You poured yourself a cup of coffee, gripping the warm mug tightly, trying to ground yourself. Every time you looked at Niki now, you didn’t just see your brother—you saw the faces standing behind him in your mind: Heeseung’s knowing smirk, Jay’s confident warmth, Jake’s soft, burning gaze.
Ten minutes hadn’t passed before Niki’s phone buzzed loudly against the countertop. He picked it up, scanned the text, and a wide, eager grin spread across his face—the kind that usually spelled trouble, or exactly what you were terrified you secretly wanted.
“Hey,” he said, looking up at you with bright, expectant eyes. “The guys are free this afternoon. They asked if I wanted to hit the arcade downtown—the big one with the rooftop café?”
You froze, the mug halfway to your lips. The arcade? Now? Your pulse spiked instantly, a familiar, dizzying heat rushing to your cheeks. “Oh… that’s nice,” you managed, keeping your tone deliberately flat. “Have fun.”
Niki’s grin widened into something distinctly teasing. “Actually… I may have mentioned you’d probably be around. They specifically asked if you’d come too.”
Your breath hitched in your throat. “They did?”
“Yep,” he shrugged casually, but his eyes were dancing. “Said they thought you’d be fun to hang with. C’mon, it’s way more crowded with just us guys. Please?”
You hesitated, your mind racing a mile a minute. A part of you screamed run, warning you that spending more time in their orbit—especially after the obsessive way you’d stalked their social media last night—was a recipe for disaster. But the other part, the part that remembered the electric charge of their presence at dinner, the way Heeseung looked right through you, the quiet intensity of Jake, and Jay’s steady pull… that part was already grabbing your bag and checking your reflection.
“Fine,” you sighed, rolling your eyes as if it were a burden, while your insides hummed with nervous, electric energy. “But if you ditch me to play games by yourself, I’m out of there.”
By the time you arrived, the afternoon sun hung high, casting a hazy golden glow over the bustling entrance. Stepping inside, the air filled instantly with the bright chiming of machines, flashing neon lights, and the low murmur of crowds. But you barely noticed any of it—your eyes scanned the room frantically until they locked onto them.
They were leaning against the railing near the racing simulators, standing out effortlessly even in the throng of people. Jay was laughing at something Heeseung had said, posture relaxed but commanding, while Jake stood slightly apart, his gaze sweeping the room until it landed squarely on you. The shift in him was instant—his features softened, a faint pink flush rising on his cheeks as he nudged the others gently.
Heeseung turned first. His eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that felt physical, dragging the breath from your lungs. That familiar, lazy smirk played on his lips, slow and deliberate, as if he could read exactly how much time you’d spent thinking about him last night. Jay turned next, his dimples appearing in a warm smile that didn’t quite mask the sharp, focused interest in his gaze.
“Hey, you made it,” Niki chirped, bouncing ahead of you into their circle.
“Hey,” you echoed, your voice softer than intended as you came to a stop before them, suddenly hyper-aware of every inch of space between you.
“Glad you could join us,” Jay said, his voice smooth and deep. He looked effortlessly striking in a fitted tee that showed off the strength you’d seen on his feed, and the scent of his clean, warm cologne drifted over you.
“Was starting to wonder if you’d change your mind,” Heeseung added, stepping slightly closer, invading your space just enough to make your pulse hammer. His eyes searched yours, dark and amused. “We’ve been looking forward to it.”
You swallowed hard, refusing to let your knees buckle. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
Jake stepped forward then, his movement gentle but determined, breaking the invisible line Heeseung was drawing. “We were just about to start a round of air hockey,” he said softly, his eyes holding yours with a quiet, pleading intensity. “Wanna be on my team?”
The offer sounded sweet, almost innocent, but beneath it lay a heavy, unspoken current. You glanced between them—the quiet claim in Heeseung’s stance, the steady patience in Jay’s expression, the soft insistence in Jake’s gaze—and felt the air grow thin.
“Sure,” you nodded, your voice barely a whisper.
What unfolded over the next few hours wasn’t a fight—not in the loud, obvious sense. There were no raised voices, no harsh words, no shoving matches. Instead, it was a quiet, elegant war, fought in inches and glances, a silent tug-of-war that Niki seemed completely blind to. They moved around you like a carefully choreographed dance, each one subtly angling to be the one closest to you, gently outmaneuvering the others without ever acknowledging the game they were playing.
At the air hockey table, Jake stood close beside you, his shoulder pressed warmly to yours, creating a gentle barrier. He passed you the puck with soft, encouraging smiles, his attention entirely focused on your enjoyment, subtly blocking Heeseung from stepping fully into your line of sight. He didn’t confront them; he just occupied your space so completely there was barely room for anyone else.
Heeseung accepted the distance but compensated with sheer weight of presence. He leaned casually against the side of the machine, eyes never leaving your face, his smirk deepening whenever you laughed. He found the gaps Jake left—speaking just loud enough to catch your ear, offering a tip that required him to lean in close, his arm brushing past yours as if by accident. He didn’t push Jake away; he simply wove himself into your periphery, impossible to ignore, his gaze heavy and possessive whenever it flickered from you to the others.
Jay operated with a calm, seamless efficiency. When the group moved toward the racing simulators, he naturally fell into step right beside you, his hand hovering near your elbow or resting lightly on the small of your back—a grounding, guiding touch that felt entirely natural yet unmistakably claimed. He would smoothly intercept questions meant for the others, answer them, and redirect the conversation back to you, standing slightly behind your other shoulder to balance Jake’s proximity, ensuring his warmth radiated against your side while politely occupying the space where Heeseung might try to slip in.
It was maddeningly beautiful. If you turned your head, you caught Jay’s steady gaze. If you focused on the game, you felt Jake’s quiet support. If you drifted into thought, you felt Heeseung’s eyes burning into you. They offered you drinks at the same time—each smiling politely as they held out a cup. They walked on either side of you, matching your pace perfectly, never crowding but never letting a gap open wide enough for the other to gain ground.
The tension was thick, sweet, and suffocating. It lay in the way their smiles didn’t quite reach their eyes when looking at each other, in the slight pause before they spoke when someone else had your attention, in the way their bodies remained relaxed but their jaws set with quiet determination. They were letting you choose, letting you drift naturally toward whichever one felt right in the moment, but they were silently, relentlessly clearing the path, ensuring that no matter where you turned, you were enveloped in their world, completely unaware of how firmly they had already woven you into it.
By late afternoon, the bright, flickering lights and relentless noise of the arcade had blurred into a dull, throbbing hum behind your eyes. The excitement you’d felt earlier had long since evaporated, leaving behind a heavy, bone-deep weariness. It wasn’t just physical fatigue; it was the mental effort of navigating the crowd and keeping up appearances. All you craved was the quiet, dark sanctuary of your own room.
You drifted over to Niki, who was still planted firmly in front of a high-score game, fingers flying across the controls, completely oblivious to the world outside his screen.
“Hey,” you said, touching his arm gently, your voice low. “I’m wiped out. Can we head home now?”
Niki barely blinked, his eyes locked on the targets exploding on the display. “Already? C’mon, it’s just getting good! I haven’t even lined up for the new VR machine yet.”
“I know, but I’m really tired,” you insisted, fighting back a sigh. “My feet hurt, Nik.”
He finally paused, glancing sideways at you with a casual, unbothered shrug. “Look, I’m not done here. You can take the car if you want—just grab the keys from my bag.”
You shook your head, a sinking feeling settling in your chest. “I can’t. I didn’t bring my license with me.”
Niki didn’t even look up this time. “Oh, that sucks. And actually… the spare set is at home anyway, and I don’t want to risk losing the only one I have. Guess you’ll just have to hang around a bit longer then, yeah?” He turned back to his game, effectively dismissing you.
You stood there for a moment, defeated and stuck. You couldn’t drive, you couldn’t leave him stranded, and waiting hours for him to finish felt impossible in your current state.
Almost instantly, Heeseung seemed to sense the shift in you. He was standing just a step away, his attention drifting entirely to your slumped shoulders and weary expression.
“I can drive you,” a smooth, steady voice cut through the arcade noise.
You looked up to find Heeseung standing right beside you, hands tucked casually into his jacket pockets. His expression was calm on the surface, but there was a glint of something sharp and playful in his gaze—an amusement that felt just for him.
“It’s no trouble,” he reassured simply. “My car’s parked right out front. It’s about a forty-minute drive. I don’t mind at all.”
Before you could protest, he was already guiding you away, placing a hand lightly on the small of your back—a touch that felt polite but lingered just long enough to make your skin prickle. He led you through the crowd, shielding you from the noise, until the heavy doors swung shut behind you, leaving you in the cool, quiet air of the evening.
The interior of Heeseung’s car was dim, bathed in the soft, muted glow of the dashboard lights, smelling of crisp, subtle cologne and the rich, worn warmth of leather. As you sank into the passenger seat, the silence that settled around you felt heavy but not uncomfortable—charged, as if the air itself held its breath, aware of every small movement. The engine purred to life with a low, steady hum that seemed to vibrate through the soles of your feet, and soon the streetlights outside blurred into endless streaks of gold and silver rushing past the glass windows, wrapping the world outside in a soft haze.
“About forty minutes,” Heeseung murmured, his voice low and velvety, sounding deeper in the quiet confines of the car. He kept his attention mostly on the road ahead, his posture relaxed and confident, but his eyes would drift toward you every so often—glances that were slow, lingering, and quiet, catching the faint play of light across your face before returning to the dark stretch of highway. “You can rest if you’d like. No need to force conversation.”
You leaned your head back against the cool headrest, letting your eyelids fall shut for a moment, but sleep was the furthest thing from your mind. Every nerve ending felt heightened, alive to the smallest details—the sound of his steady breathing, the faint shift of his hands on the wheel, the way the air felt warmer on his side of the console. Your heart hammered a steady, noticeable rhythm against your ribs, loud enough that you wondered if he could hear it too.
After a stretch of quiet that felt both peaceful and electric, you saw him move in your peripheral vision. He slowly lifted his right hand from the gear stick, his motion unhurried and fluid, drifting across the narrow space of the center console until his warm, firm palm settled lightly but deliberately onto your knee. There was no pressure, no demand—just a steady, grounding weight, his thumb beginning to brush back and forth over the denim in faint, almost imperceptible strokes that felt far more intimate than they should.
Your breath hitched quietly in your throat, a reaction you couldn’t quite suppress. He didn’t turn to gloat or tease openly, but the corner of his mouth curved upward in a faint, knowing smile that played in the shadows. He kept his eyes forward, watching the road unwind, but the connection between you felt like a live wire—steady, warm, impossible to ignore.
“You seem… restless,” he observed softly, his tone gentle, almost conversational, though there was an undercurrent of quiet amusement in his voice. His thumb continued its slow, rhythmic motion, soft enough to soothe, heavy enough to make your skin prickle with heat. “Like you’re thinking too much.”
You turned your head slightly to look at him, taking in the sharp, clean line of his jaw, the way the passing light caught the curve of his lips. “Maybe I am,” you admitted, your voice coming out softer than you intended, but steady enough to show you weren’t shying away. “It’s hard not to, when it’s so quiet in here.”
Heeseung let out a low, quiet hum, a sound of satisfaction more than anything else. His hand shifted just a fraction, settling more comfortably, the warmth of his palm spreading further up your thigh. He didn’t push, didn’t crowd your space, but the silence between you grew denser, filled with all the things neither of you needed to say out loud.
“Quiet isn’t always a bad thing,” he murmured, leaning just barely closer, the faint, clean scent of him wrapping around you like a soft haze. His gaze drifted to you then, slow and deep, holding your eyes for a long, suspended moment—dark, intent, and brimming with a quiet confidence that made your chest feel tight. “It lets you notice things you might miss otherwise.”
You held his gaze for a beat longer, feeling a small, brave smile tug at your own lips. “Like what?” you asked, your tone light but curious, meeting his passive energy with your own quiet challenge.
The corner of his smile deepened, soft but undeniably pleased. He didn’t answer right away, just let his eyes linger on your face a moment more, tracing the line of your features as if committing them to memory, before turning his attention back to the road. But his hand remained exactly where it was—steady, warm, and undeniably present—his thumb moving in that slow, hypnotic rhythm, letting the thick, sweet tension stretch out between you, unspoken but perfectly understood.
“I think you already know,” he said simply, the words hanging in the dim light, soft and sure, as the miles slipped away beneath the wheels.
The miles blurred by outside, but your entire world had shrunk down to the point where his hand rested on your leg. The warmth of his palm seemed to seep through the denim, burning into your skin, anchoring you to him in a way that felt thrilling and terrifying all at once. His thumb continued its slow, sweeping motion—soft, rhythmic, deliberate—eroding your resolve little by little, even as your mind raced with warnings you couldn’t quite voice.
You told yourself to pull away, to shift your leg, to create some distance. He’s Niki’s friend, a voice screamed in the back of your head, sharp with guilt. He’s older, he’s part of his world, and you are crossing a line that shouldn’t be stepped over. But your body refused to listen, frozen in place, traitorously leaning into the contact, drinking in the quiet intimacy of being the sole focus of his attention.
Heeseung seemed to sense the war waging inside you. He didn’t push further, didn’t slide his hand higher or make a loud demand; he just kept it exactly where it was, solid and unyielding, grounding you in the moment.
“You’re thinking again,” he murmured, his voice barely rising above the hum of the engine. His eyes flickered to you, dark and heavy-lidded, seeing right through the conflict written across your face. “Your mind’s running a mile a minute… but your body isn’t moving away.”
A flush of heat crawled up your neck, settling hot and heavy in your cheeks. You turned your head to look out the window, unable to hold his gaze, the guilt twisting in your stomach sharp and bright. “I shouldn’t…” you whispered, the words trembling slightly on your tongue. “You’re Niki’s friend, Heeseung. This feels… wrong.”
Heeseung was quiet for a long moment, the silence stretching out thick and loaded. Then, slowly, he shifted his hand—not to pull away, but to slide it inward, resting closer to the center of your thigh, the contact deeper, more claiming.
“Niki doesn’t need to know everything,” he said softly, his tone smooth, laced with a low, magnetic pull that made your pulse spike despite yourself. “And what he doesn’t see… doesn’t hurt him.”
He leaned in just a fraction closer, the space between the seats shrinking until you could feel the heat radiating from his side, could smell the faint, intoxicating mix of his cologne and the leather.
“Does it feel wrong?” he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper that scraped against your nerves. His gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there for a heartbeat that felt like an eternity, before dragging back up to lock onto yours. “Or does it just feel forbidden?”
The distinction shattered you. You felt the wetness pool low in your stomach, a slick, hot ache that contradicted every ounce of guilt in your chest. Your breath hitched, your chest rising and falling faster, betraying exactly how much this affected you.
“It feels dangerous,” you breathed, your voice barely audible, the regret warring viciously with a deep, pulsing want you couldn’t suppress.
“Dangerous is what makes it feel alive,” Heeseung murmured. His thumb pressed harder against your leg, a firm, possessive stroke that sent a jolt straight through you. “Don’t overthink it. Just feel it.”
He settled back into his seat, eyes returning to the road, but the heavy, lingering weight of his presence remained, pressing against you, filling the car with a suffocating, sexual tension. You sat there, trembling slightly, hating yourself for how much you craved this—hating that you were letting Niki’s friend touch you like this, yet unable to will yourself to move away from the hand that was slowly unraveling you from the inside out.
The friction only seemed to fan the fire rather than put it out. You pressed your thighs together instinctively, seeking pressure, chasing some kind of relief for the deep, throbbing ache that had settled low in your hips—a heat that spread through your veins and made your skin feel too tight, too sensitive. The movement was subtle, almost involuntary, but in the heavy silence of the car, Heeseung caught it instantly.
He felt the shift against his hand, the way your muscles tensed and pressed closer, trapping his palm between your legs. A low, nearly imperceptible sound vibrated in his throat—half a hum, half a satisfied groan. He didn’t pull away; instead, his hand became heavier, anchoring itself firmly against you, denying you the space to hide just how much you were melting for him.
“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice rough and thick, stripped of its earlier lightness. “Trying to pretend you don’t want this, but your body is practically leaning into it.”
Guilt flickered faintly in the back of your mind—this is Niki’s friend—but it was nothing compared to the dizzying rush of need that drowned it out. You felt your cheeks burn, your breath coming in short, shaky puffs, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs. You did want this—wanted it desperately, more than you wanted to care about the rules or the boundaries. You craved the weight of his hand, the warmth of him, the way he looked at you like you were something he was already claiming.
“It feels…” you whispered, your voice trembling, barely audible over the hum of the engine, unable to bring yourself to say it was wrong.
Heeseung’s thumb slowed down, dragging agonizingly slow circles over the denim, pressing right against the sensitive spot where your thigh met your hip, sending electric sparks shooting straight to your core.
“Tell me,” he challenged softly, leaning in until his breath ghosted against your temple, his tone dark and knowing. “Tell me how it feels.”
You turned your head, your eyes locking onto his intense gaze, your own lids heavy with desire. “Like I don’t want you to stop.”
Your words hang in the air.
The tension finally snapped, quiet and inevitable.
Without either of you saying a word, Heeseung slowed the car, pulling off the main road into a quiet, dimly lit side street, the engine cutting out until all that remained was the sound of your ragged breathing and the distant hum of the city. The silence that followed was thick, charged, every second stretching out like an eternity.
He turned fully toward you in the dim light, his eyes dark and swimming with that heavy, undeniable pull, scanning your face as if he were memorizing every detail before making his move. Then, slowly, he leaned across the center console, closing the distance between you, his hand sliding from your knee to cup your jaw gently but firmly, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.
You didn’t pull away. You leaned into him, your heart hammering wildly against your ribs, every nerve ending screaming with anticipation. When his lips finally met yours, it wasn’t rushed or rough—it was deep, deliberate, and devastatingly thorough. The kiss felt like a release of all the tension that had been building for hours, warm and intoxicating, his mouth moving against yours with a slow, skilled rhythm that made your head spin and your knees weak.
A soft, shaky sigh escaped you, melting into the space between his lips. You tangled your fingers into the soft hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, desperate to feel every inch of him. He responded instantly, his hand sliding back to grip your waist, pulling you as far into his lap as the console would allow, his other hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, deepening the kiss until there was no air left between you.
You tasted the quiet hunger in him, the restrained passion that had been simmering beneath the surface all evening. It felt forbidden, a dangerous line being crossed, but the guilt was drowned out completely by the overwhelming, blazing need coursing through your veins. This was Heeseung—Niki’s friend, the one person you shouldn’t want—and yet you couldn’t get enough, chasing the heat of his touch, the soft sounds he made against your mouth, the way his fingers gripped you like he never wanted to let go.
His lips moved to your jawline, trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses down the sensitive curve of your neck, sending shivers racking through your entire body. You arched into him, a quiet gasp slipping from your throat, your hands roaming over his shoulders, his chest, feeling the steady, strong beat of his heart beneath your palm. The car felt small, suffocating in the most perfect way, filled with the sound of heavy breathing and the friction of bodies seeking more, completely lost in the haze of desire.
When he finally pulled back just an inch, his forehead resting lightly against yours, both of you were breathless, lips swollen and eyes dark with wanting. He looked at you with a gaze that felt like it saw everything, his thumb tracing the outline of your lower lip slowly, reverently.
“I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I saw you,” he whispered, his voice rough and quiet, vibrating through your bones.
Your heart pounds at his words, craving more of him. But the back of your mind there were two more craved. Jay and Jake.
The air in the car felt thin, scorched, every breath heavy and ragged as Heeseung rested his forehead against yours. But just beneath the blinding rush of his touch, beneath the heat flooding your veins, something else stirred—a messy, tangled thought that made your head spin even faster.
It’s not just him.
As Heeseung pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and hooded, you couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to have Jay’s steady hands holding you this way, or Jake’s soft, devoted mouth mapping your skin. The realization hit you like a physical blow—this hunger wasn’t singular. It was sprawling, messy, and greedy. You wanted the quiet intensity of all of them, and the guilt of that, mixed with the thrill, made your pulse skyrocket.
Heeseung seemed to sense the shift in your expression, the way your gaze drifted, unfocused, lost in thoughts you couldn’t voice. His jaw tightened, a sharp, possessive flash crossing his features, and the gentle restraint he’d held onto snapped completely.
“Don’t think about anything else,” he murmured, the words rough and commanding against your lips. “Not here. Not now.”
Before you could process it, he surged forward again, kissing you with a sudden, deep intensity that bordered on aggression. It was an attack, but one made of pure, unbridled hunger—he took your breath away, his mouth claiming yours with a fierce, thorough pressure that left no room for doubt, no space for your mind to wander to anyone else. His tongue swept in, hot and demanding, tasting every corner of you, as if he intended to erase the very thought of anyone else from your mind.
He gripped your jaw firmly, holding you exactly where he wanted, deepening the kiss until your head swam and your fingers dug desperately into his shoulders. It was overwhelming, suffocating in the best way—an assertion of dominance that screamed I am here, I am the one touching you, drowning out every lingering fantasy of Jay or Jake under the sheer weight of his passion.
He kissed you deeply, relentlessly, stealing the air from your lungs until you were clinging to him, melting into the seat, your body responding to his fire even as your mind reeled from the complexity of wanting them all. He wasn’t letting you go, wasn’t letting you drift—he was anchoring you to him, one devastating kiss at a time, demanding that you feel only him.
Heeseung pulled back slowly, his chest heaving, eyes still burning with that fierce, possessive intensity. He lingered for a moment, brushing his thumb over your swollen lips as if sealing the moment shut. Without a word, he shifted back into gear, the engine purring to life once more, and steered the car back onto the road.
The rest of the drive passed in a thick, charged silence. When he finally pulled up outside your house, the street was quiet and dark. He cut the engine, turning to look at you one last time, his gaze heavy and unreadable.
“Go inside,” he said softly, though his voice held a quiet command. “Get some rest.”
You nodded, your legs feeling weak as you stepped out onto the pavement. You didn’t look back, hurrying up the path and slipping through the front door, locking it behind you. Leaning against the wood, your heart was still racing, your lips still tingling, knowing nothing would ever be simple again—not with Niki, not with his friends, and certainly not with Heeseung.
A full week had dragged by since that night, and not a single second of it had felt even close to normal.
You’d been walking on eggshells ever since—putting on a gentle, easy smile whenever Niki was around, acting like nothing had changed, while your mind kept replaying every single moment on loop: Heeseung’s lips on yours, Jake’s shy kindness, Jay’s quiet focus on you. You’d barely spoken to any of them, keeping your distance and burying yourself in work, but pushing them away only made everything feel more tangled—guilt twisting tight in your chest, messy and heavy, making you short-tempered even when you didn’t mean to be.
You were in the kitchen that afternoon, carefully stacking plates away, when Niki leaned in the doorway, looking pleased.
“Forgot to tell you,” he said softly. “Their place got a bad leak. They’re crashing here tonight—all three of them. Said it’d be easier than finding a hotel last minute.”
You paused, fingers brushing the edge of a mug, and let out a quiet, shaky breath. “Niki… you can’t just decide that out of nowhere. Mom and Dad are away—they don’t know anything about this. They’d worry so much if they came home to find people staying over without telling them.”
He shrugged, looking a little sheepish now. “I know… but they’re my best friends. I couldn’t make them sleep somewhere uncomfortable.”
Your shoulders softened. You knew he meant well—he always did. “I know. I know you’re just looking out for them. But this isn’t simple, okay? There’s… things you don’t know about.” You rubbed your temple, voice quiet and earnest. “I just don’t want anyone getting hurt, or us getting in trouble when they get back.”
You wanted to say more—wanted to explain why this felt so much bigger than just friends staying over—but you couldn’t. So you just nodded slowly, and gave him a small, tired smile. “It’s fine. We’ll make it work. Just… warn me next time, please?”
He beamed and hurried off before you could say anything else.
When the front door opened a little while later, you gripped the counter tight, heart skipping. Their voices drifted in—Heeseung’s low laugh, Jay’s steady thanks, Jake’s soft “hi” that made your chest ache all over again. You stayed where you were, pressing your thighs together unconsciously, that familiar flutter mixing with fear and guilt.
They greeted you warmly, like always—but you noticed: Heeseung’s gaze lingered a little longer, like he knew you were struggling; Jay watched you gently, like he was checking you were okay; Jake gave you that shy, soft smile that made your heart twist. They acted like nothing had happened, like you weren’t standing there feeling so guilty and confused, while Niki chattered happily beside them—completely unaware of everything hanging in the air between you all.
You smiled back, soft and polite, even though every part of you felt stretched thin. You were so confused, so scared of what this meant… but you couldn’t bring yourself to be angry at any of them—not really.
You were just… so, so screwed.
You stepped out of the bathroom, still half dazed from brushing your teeth, and nearly collided with him. Heeseung was leaning against the wall right outside, arms crossed, eyes dark and fixed straight on you like he’d been waiting there all along.
Your breath hitched sharp, eyes blowing wide. “Hey,” he said, voice low and easy, like catching you off guard was the easiest thing in the world.
“Uhh—hi,” you stammered, gaze darting instantly to the floor, the wall, anywhere but his face.
“About last week—”
“It was a mistake,” you cut him off fast, finally forcing your chin up to meet his eyes, heart slamming hard enough to ache.
He tilted his head, a faint, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Was it?”
“I—I was drunk,” you fumbled, grasping at the flimsiest excuse you had.
One dark eyebrow lifted. “You said you don’t drink at dinner.” His tone was light, teasing, but there was heat beneath it, thick and unmissable.
You huffed out a shaky breath, shoulders slumping. “Look—I—” You groaned, voice dropping to a fragile whisper. “Just… can we not talk about it?”
He took a slow step closer, closing the little space between you, and leaned in until his lips brushed the shell of your ear. “Sure… princess,” he murmured, warm and rough all at once—then nipped gently at your earlobe, sharp and sudden, before pulling back and strolling away like nothing had happened at all.
You stood frozen in the hallway, skin prickling, chest heaving, every nerve ending screaming.
Hours bled by, and the whole house went quiet—only the faint hum of the fridge and Niki’s muffled snoring drifting through the walls. You were sprawled in your parents’ bed, tossing and turning, sheets tangled, mind racing too fast to settle. Heeseung’s voice, the way he’d looked at you, Jake’s shy smile, Jay’s heavy gaze—all of it looped through your head, tangled up with that sharp, thrumming guilt that wouldn’t let you rest.
Grumbling, you pushed yourself up, slipping out in nothing but a thin cotton tank top and matching sleep shorts, bare feet padding soft down the dark hall.
The kitchen was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the fridge light when you pulled the door open. You grabbed a cold bottle of water, twisted the cap off, and sank onto one of the high stools at the island, taking slow sips to try and cool the heat still thrumming under your skin.
“Someone’s thirsty.”
The voice was smooth, raspy, and so close you jumped so hard water sloshed over the rim.
“Fuck—” You pressed a hand hard over your hammering heart, turning fast. Jake was leaning in the doorway, hair messy and sticking up in soft tufts, wearing an oversized black tee and loose grey joggers, eyes heavy like he’d just woken up. “Jake—you scared the shit out of me.”
“Shit, sorry,” he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hand, shuffling closer. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“Yeah—insomnia,” you shrugged, twisting the cap back and forth on the bottle.
“Damn, that’s the worst,” he said, resting his palms flat on the counter across from you. “I know how that feels.”
“What about you?”
He huffed a quiet laugh, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Niki. Snores like a damn chainsaw.”
A small, breathless laugh bubbled out of you. “Trust me—I know. Grew up sharing a room with him for years.”
He chuckled too, and that soft, familiar dimple popped out, making your chest feel light and tight all at once. He pushed off the counter and rounded the island, pulling out the stool right next to you to sit down.
“Y’know,” he started, quiet but sure, “Niki’s so damn lucky to have you as a sister.”
You looked up, surprised, and a soft, shy smile tugged at your mouth. “Thanks.” Warm pink bloomed slow across your cheeks.
“I mean it,” he said, turning his body fully toward you, knee brushing yours beneath the counter. “You’re smart, you’re kind… you look out for him even when he’s being an idiot. And you’re so beautiful it’s actually unfair.” His voice dropped a little, softer, earnest. “Took all the good genes, left Niki with almost nothing.”
You laughed, flustered, cheeks burning hotter now. “Thanks, Jake—that’s… that’s really sweet.”
“Are you blushing?” He tilted his head, eyes glinting with quiet amusement.
“What? No—” You looked away fast. “I have… blush on, okay?”
He let out a low, warm laugh. “Y/n, c’mon. I’m not stupid. Nobody wears makeup to bed.” He lifted one hand, resting it light on your shoulder, thumb brushing soft over your skin. “It’s cute. I’m honoured.”
You couldn’t help the soft, breathy laugh that escaped you, leaning just a fraction closer without even noticing. His hand slipped from your shoulder, fingers brushing your jaw before tucking that stray lock of hair behind your ear—slow, deliberate, like he was taking his time memorising the way you shivered.
You froze, breath catching, that familiar, heavy ache coiling tight low in your stomach. His eyes stayed locked on yours for a heartbeat, then flicked down—slow, deliberate—to your parted lips, then back up, darker now, like he was holding back something huge.
“Jake…” you breathed, barely more than a whisper.
He didn’t say anything. Just leaned in slow, giving you every chance to pull away—until he was close enough that you could smell his warm, clean scent, feel the heat coming off him, see the way his lashes brushed his cheeks.
Then his hand came up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing soft over your bottom lip, and he kissed you—soft at first, tentative, like he was still half afraid he’d crossed a line. But when you sighed and leaned in, hands fisting gentle in the front of his shirt, he deepened it slow, warm and sure, his lips moving against yours like he’d been wanting this just as long as you had. It wasn’t rushed or rough—it was thick with all the things neither of you had said, all the quiet glances and lingering touches, tangled up with that sharp, guilty thrill that you shouldn’t want this… but god, you did.
His other hand slid to your waist, pulling you just a little closer, your knees pressing together, every breath shared between you shaky and warm. For a little while, there was nothing but the quiet hum of the house, the soft slide of his lips on yours, and the terrifying, wonderful realisation that you were in way deeper trouble than you thought.
“F-fuck,” you gasp, pulling back just enough to catch your breath, a shaky little laugh catching in your throat. Your head spins, lips swollen and warm from his, every nerve ending buzzing like you’ve been lit on fire. “Jake… I think we should stop.”
He blinks, his own chest heaving, cheeks flushed pink in the dim light. “Yeah—yeah, right. Sorry. Was that too much?”
“God, no.” You smile, soft and dazed, fingers brushing the back of his hand like you can’t help yourself. “It was good. So good.” Your smile fades just a little, tangled up in that familiar twist of guilt. “It’s just… Niki would lose his mind if he knew.”
Jake nods slowly, gaze dropping to your mouth like he can’t look away. “I know. We’re careful. I won’t say a word.” His voice drops to that soft, sleepy honey tone that makes your head spin worse. “But fuck—I want to kiss you again. So bad.”
Your stomach does that sharp, flipping little lurch—warmth spreading fast through your chest, butterflies swarming so thick you can barely breathe. You freeze for half a second, eyes darting straight to his lips: soft, full, still glistening a little from yours.
“Jake…” you whisper, but your voice sounds anything but a warning.
He shifts closer, slow like he’s giving you every chance to pull away—like he knows you won’t. His hand comes up to cup your jaw, palm warm and calloused, thumb brushing gently over your bottom lip. “Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, forehead resting light against yours, breath fanning over your skin. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop. Right now.”
You don’t tell him to stop.
Instead you lean in first, pressing your mouth back to his—slower this time, deeper, like you’re done pretending you don’t crave every second. Jake makes this quiet, broken little sound against your lips, pulling you closer until you’re pressed tight to his chest, his arms winding firm around your waist. It’s messier now, hungrier; he nips soft at your lip, licks into your mouth slow and sure, like he’s memorising exactly how you taste.
You tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, and he shivers, pressing a trail of soft, burning kisses down your jaw to your throat—lingering right over your pulse point, making you gasp and arch into him.
“God, you’re perfect,” he mumbles against your skin, voice thick and rough now, nothing like the shy boy you met at dinner. “So perfect. And I’ve wanted this for so long.”
For a second the thought of Niki nags at the back of your mind—but then Jake kisses you again, and it vanishes completely. You don’t care. Not right now. Not when he’s holding you like you’re something precious and something he’s been dying to have all at once.
The faint click of a door down the hall cuts through the quiet like a knife, and you both spring apart instantly—breath hitching, faces burning so hot you swear you’re glowing in the dim light. You stand there for a heartbeat just looking at him: Jake’s hair all messy from your fingers, lips pink and swollen, cheeks flushed that soft warm shade, eyes still dazed and dark like he’s drunk on you. He looks so pretty it hurts to look away.
“I… I should head back to bed,” you say, a shaky little laugh slipping out, half flustered half wrecked.
He nods fast, like he’s forcing himself to remember how to breathe. “Yeah—yeah, I’ll crash on the couch. God knows Niki sounds like a chainsaw when he’s out cold anyway.”
A small helpless chuckle spills from you. “Mmhm. Sleep well, Jake.”
You grab your glass of water, fingers still trembling a little, and make your way up the stairs slow, like your legs might give out any second. Every step echoes, and you can still feel the ghost of his hands on your waist, his taste on your tongue, the way his voice had gone all soft and thick against your skin.
You push open your bedroom door—and freeze.
Heeseung is perched on the corner of your bed, half swallowed by shadow, twisting one of your satin scrunchies slowly between his fingers like he’s been sitting there for hours. Waiting.
“Heeseung?” you whisper, barely audible, heart slamming so hard against your ribs you’re scared he’ll hear it.
He lifts his head, and his gaze locks onto yours—heavy, unblinking, consuming, like he’s stripping every secret right out of your head. The scrunchie slips from his fingers and lands silent on the sheets.
“Are we really going to keep pretending none of this happened?” he says, low and rough, your name rolling off his tongue slow and sharp like he’s been biting it back all night. “Y/n.”
A long shaky sigh leaves your chest. You were just kissing his best friend. Just had Jake’s hands in your hair, his lips on yours. You should feel guilty. You do—but standing here under Heeseung’s eyes, all that shame melts into something darker, something thrumming and alive that you can’t outrun.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” you murmur, shoulders lifting in a helpless little shrug.
He leans forward just an inch, elbows resting on his knees, and the air between you turns thick—so thick you can almost taste it, charged and electric and ready to snap.
“Anything,” he says, and it’s almost a plea, raw and quiet and desperate. “Tell me I’m not the only one going out of my mind.”
Your throat tightens. You look at him—really look at him—and you can’t lie.
“You’re not,” you admit, so quiet it’s almost a breath, your eyes darting all over his face like you’re memorising every line, every sharp perfect edge.
A slow, knowing smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, dark and satisfied. “Good,” he breathes, voice dropping so deep it vibrates right through your bones.
The dull, throbbing ache Jake left low in your belly flares hotter, sharper, spiking straight through you at the sound of Heeseung’s voice.
“It’s late,” you say, half-hearted, like you’re trying to convince yourself more than him.
“I know,” he sighs, and there’s that edge of frustration, that quiet agony in his tone that makes your knees weak. “But you… every time I see you, Y/n. It eats me alive. Every single fucking time.”
He stands slow, deliberate, and steps right into your space. You don’t move back. His hand comes up to cup your jaw—warm, firm, calloused a little—and his thumb brushes soft back and forth over your cheek until you’re leaning into him without even thinking, like he’s gravity itself. He dips his head, presses a slow, lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth—right where your lips are still bruised and swollen from Jake—and your breath catches so hard you almost choke. His nose drags slow along your jaw, down the side of your neck, and you gasp, fingers tangling tight into the back of his hair like you’re clinging on for dear life. His other arm wraps firm around your waist, pulling you flush against him for one long, dizzying second, every line of him pressed right up against you.
“I mean it,” he murmurs against your pulse point, and you shiver so hard your teeth rattle.
Then he pulls back—forces himself to pull back—and taps your hip once, light and deliberate, before he turns and walks out the door without another word.
You stand there in the dark for what feels like forever, chest heaving, skin burning, every nerve ending screaming for more.
“Fuck,” you groan, collapsing face-down onto your duvet, pressing your hands hard over your eyes like you can block it all out. Your mind spins in dizzying circles—Jake’s soft shy warmth, Heeseung’s burning hungry intensity—and then, unbidden, he slips right into your head too.
Jay. His quiet steady gaze, the way he watches you like he knows every single thing you’re feeling before you even say it.
And you know, deep down, you crossed every line you ever had a long time ago. You’re already so far gone you don’t think you can find your way back—and the worst part is… you don’t even want to.
The Next Morning
Pale morning light spills soft over the kitchen counters, but the air feels thick, like it’s holding its breath. Niki’s already rambling about practice, toast crumbs everywhere, completely oblivious. Jake sits hunched over his mug, eyes darting to you then away, cheeks pink like he’s scared even looking at you will give it all away. Heeseung leans against the sink, calm on the surface, but his gaze drags slow over you every time you look down—heavy, knowing, like he’s still tracing the shape of you.
And then there’s Jay.
He’s at the end of the table, flipping idly through a notebook, but he stops the second you step in. He doesn’t know. He hasn’t seen anything, hasn’t guessed—all he knows is something shifted between you overnight, something quiet and sharp he can’t quite name. His dark eyes lock onto yours, steady and unreadable, and the breath catches in your throat. He watches the way you fidget with your sleeves, the way you won’t quite meet his eye for too long, and a faint, confused furrow pulls between his brows.
“Morning,” he says, voice low and even, but there’s a soft edge to it, like he’s reaching for you without meaning to.
“Morning,” you reply, too quiet, too fast.
He doesn’t look away when you sit down across from him. You can feel his attention like a warm weight—on your mouth, the line of your jaw, the way your fingers twist around your mug. He doesn’t know about Jake, doesn’t know about Heeseung, doesn’t know why you look so wrecked when you look at him. All he feels is this sudden, heavy pull, this quiet ache that wasn’t there before, and it makes him watch you closer, like he’s trying to work out what he’s missing. Every time he shifts in his seat, every time his knee brushes yours under the table by accident, you both freeze for a heartbeat, the air thrumming with something neither of you will name.
One Week Later
Seven days of quiet, of dodging texts, of telling yourself you’re just keeping your distance for Niki. You’d agreed to the party your best friend, Megan keeps inviting you to only because you’d knew none of them would be there—until you walk in, and there he is.
Jay leans against the far wall, drink in hand, talking slow to someone you know from university. When he sees you, the conversation just… stops. The noise of the party—music, laughter, clinking glasses—fades to a dull hum around you, like the rest of the room has blurred out of focus. He excuses himself gently and walks toward you, slow and steady, like he’s not in any rush at all.
You freeze.
“I didn’t think you’d be here,” he says when he reaches you, voice low, close enough that you can smell his warm, familiar cologne.
“I didn’t know you knew Megan.” you say, and your voice comes out softer than you meant.
He gives a small, quiet smile, but his eyes are serious, fixed right on yours. “She’s an old friend, y’know small town.”
No one interrupts. No one comes over. You end up drifting toward the quiet edge of the living room, near the open balcony doors where the night air drifts in cool and soft. The music is slower now, something low and thrumming, matching the way your heart beats. Jay stands close—close enough that your arms almost brush, close enough that every small movement feels intentional. He doesn’t know about the others. He doesn’t know why your chest feels tight with guilt and want all tangled together. All he knows is that being near you feels different now—heavier, sharper, like something is about to tip over.
He leans one shoulder against the wall beside you, gaze sweeping over your face slow, deliberate. “You’ve been quiet this week,” he says, not accusing, just… watching. “Avoiding everyone?”
“Just busy,” you lie, and you know he sees it.
He nods slowly, like he expected it. His eyes drop to your mouth for a split second, then back up, and you see it—something flicker deep in his gaze, something hungry and restrained he’s been holding back. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t touch you. He just stands there, close enough that you can feel the heat rolling off him, quiet and steady, letting the silence stretch thick between you, charged with all the things neither of you will say.
“Y/n!!!”
Megan’s voice slices clean through the thick, charged air like a blade, and you jump a little, pulled abruptly out of the quiet trance you’d fallen into with Jay. You turn just as she throws her arms around you, and you hug her back automatically, your heart still thrumming from being so close to him.
Behind you, Jay’s gaze doesn’t waver. He watches the way your hair sways as you move, the way your dress rides up just a fraction higher on your thigh when you lean into the hug, and his eyebrows lift almost imperceptibly—his jaw tightening just a little, something dark and hungry flickering behind his eyes that he’s quick to school back into neutrality.
“Jay! Hey!” Megan pulls back from you and beams, stepping in to give him a quick hug too.
“Hey, Megan,” he says, and his voice is smooth, easy, like he wasn’t just burning holes into the side of your neck ten seconds ago. He gives her that small, charming smile that makes every girl in a ten-mile radius weak in the knees, and you have to look away before you do something stupid.
“Wait—since when do you two know each other?” Megan blinks, looking between you both like she just stumbled onto a secret.
“He’s, uh… friends with Niki,” you say, a little too fast, clearing your throat softly.
Jay nods, his eyes flicking briefly back to you. “Yeah. We’ve been hanging around her place a lot lately.”
Megan’s face lights up in recognition. “Oh right! That Instagram post you did with him a while back. Makes total sense now.”
You glance at Jay again, and the breath catches in your throat. He’s already looking at you, his gaze heavy and warm, and for a second you forget how to breathe. God, he looks good—lean and sharp in that black shirt, his hair falling just right over his forehead, the corner of his mouth tugged up in that quiet, knowing little half-smile that makes your stomach flip. You swallow hard, forcing yourself to look back at Megan before you do something you’ll regret.
“C’mon,” Megan says, looping her arm firmly through yours and tugging you away. “We’re grabbing drinks. Now.”
“Meg, you know I don’t drink,” you chuckle, trying to dig your heels in a little, but she’s already pulling you across the room.
“Today’s a day for new things,” she declares, and you glance over your shoulder just in time to catch Jay’s eyes on you again—dark, intense, following you across the room like he can’t look away.
“I’ll see you guys later,” he calls out, and his voice is low enough that it sends a little shiver down your spine.
Megan doesn’t stop talking until you’re both in the kitchen, her pushing a cold cup into your hands. “Y/n, you never told me you knew Jay Park,” she says, leaning against the counter, her eyes wide with curiosity.
You shrug, trying to play it cool even though your hands are shaking a little around the cup. “I just met him like a month and a half ago. Through Niki, like I said.”
“So you’ve met Heeseung and Jake too, then?”
Your heart stops dead in your chest. The name hits you like a punch to the gut, and you freeze mid-sip, your face going hot. “Y-yeah,” you stammer, clearing your throat roughly. “Yeah, I’ve met them.”
Megan’s eyes narrow. She knows you. She knows every little tell, every tiny shift in your body language that gives you away. “Oh my god, y/n,” she breathes, leaning in closer. “What is going on with you? You look like you just saw a ghost.”
“Nothing,” you say, too quickly, turning away to set the cup down. “It’s nothing, Meg.”
“Bullshit,” she says, grabbing your wrist. “Y/n, I know you inside and out. Something’s up. Spill.”
You groan, squeezing your eyes shut for a second. The guilt, the want, the tangled mess of everything that’s happened in the last week—Jake’s soft kisses, Heeseung’s burning intensity, Jay’s quiet, unshakable pull—it’s all been eating you alive, and you haven’t been able to tell anyone. Until now.
“I fucked up, Meg,” you whisper, your voice cracking a little.
She shoves the drink back into your hand, her face serious now. “C’mon.” She nods toward the hallway. “My dad’s office is down here. No one will bother us. You’re telling me everything.”
She leads you down the quiet hall, away from the thrum of music and laughter, and pushes open the heavy wooden door to her father’s study. It’s dark and quiet inside, the air thick with the smell of old books and leather, and when she closes the door behind you both, the silence feels heavy, pressing in on you from all sides.
You sink down onto the edge of the big leather desk chair, staring at your hands, and Megan leans against the desk in front of you, waiting.
And then it all comes spilling out—every last messy, confusing, dangerous detail. The way Jake looked at you that night, the kiss that left you breathless, Heeseung waiting in your room like he’d known exactly where you’d been, the way he’d touched you like he was claiming you without even trying, the way Jay has been under your skin from the very start even though nothing has ever happened between you, even though he doesn’t know any of it. You tell her about the guilt, about Niki, about the way you feel like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff and you can’t bring yourself to step back.
When you finish, your voice is raw, your eyes burning, and Megan is staring at you like she can’t believe what she just heard.
“Y/n,” she says, slow and quiet. “You’re tangled up with all three of them?”
“I know,” you whisper, dropping your face into your hands. “I know how bad it is. I know I shouldn’t want any of them. But I can’t stop, Meg. I can’t.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, then she sighs, reaching out to touch your shoulder gently. “Okay. Okay, breathe. We’ll figure this out. But first… you need to be careful. Because if Niki finds out? It’ll break him. And if those three find out about each other? Things are gonna get messy. Real messy.”
You nod, your throat tight. You know she’s right. You’ve known it from the second Heeseung first kissed you in that car. But knowing it doesn’t make the wanting stop.
“I just— I don’t know. The minute I saw them something shifted, and they haven’t left my head since. What happened with Heeseung, then Jake… and all I can think about is Jay. How his lips would feel against mine.” You groan, burying your face in your hands, voice thick and slurring just a little. “God, I’m such a whore.”
“Hey—stop that right now.” Megan nudges you firm, wrapping an arm tight around your shoulders when you slump against her. “You are not! You’ve barely dated anyone, and you’ve been single for ages! And let’s be real—they’re the ones chasing you. Staring, hovering, dropping hints like you’re the only person in the room. This isn’t just you.”
“I just… fuck! I don’t know what to do!” You drag your hands down your face, chest tight and messy.
“C’mon—be honest.” She nudges your arm again, grinning like she’s got you all figured out. “Who are you gone for the most?”
“Oh my god, don’t make me say it.” You whine, staring at the ceiling like it holds the answers.
“Tell me!”
You sigh, long and defeated. “At first it was Heeseung. Then it was Jay. Then that car ride—Heeseung kissed me, and I thought I’d lose my mind. Then the sleepover… Jake was so sweet, so soft, and I kissed him back. Then Heeseung cornered me in my room, teasing me like he knew every thought in my head… but ever since then? It’s just Jay. I can’t stop craving him. It’s so fucked up. This whole thing is so fucked!”
Megan blinks, then lets out a low whistle. “Yeah, okay, that is a lot. But tonight? We forget all of it. We party, we have fun, we act like none of them exist.”
“How am I supposed to do that when Jay’s literally in the same house?” You pout, picking at the edge of your sleeve.
“I’m not leaving your side, promise.”
But the second you step back out into the hallway, she’s gone—spotting her boyfriend across the room and darting off without a second glance. You huff, slipping out the back door into the cool night air, the two drinks you’d downed already making your head spin soft and warm. You lean against the garden wall, eyes closing for a second, and that’s when you hear it.
“Well, isn’t it Nishimura?”
The voice is low, familiar, and your stomach flips right over. You turn slow, and there he is—Jay, leaning in the doorway, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a half-empty cup.
“Hey, Park,” you say, your voice lighter than you mean it to be.
He chuckles, stepping out into the dark with you. “Didn’t take you for the party type.”
“I’m not,” you groan, tipping your head back against the wall. “Regretting it already.”
His gaze drops to your flushed cheeks, your glassy eyes, and he steps closer. “You’re drunk.”
“Just two drinks,” you mumble, stumbling a little when you shift your weight.
He moves faster than you can think—one hand curling firm and warm around your hip, the other splayed wide over your back, pulling you flush against him so you don’t fall. The contact makes you gasp, every nerve ending lighting up all at once.
“Easy there,” he murmurs, his voice dropping low and rough right against your ear. “You’re a lightweight, huh?”
You swallow hard, your heart hammering so fast you’re sure he can feel it through his shirt. “How much have you had?”
“One beer, three cups of whatever this is.” He shrugs, but his eyes are dark, swimming with something hot and unhidden. “I’m a little gone too, I’ll admit.”
A shiver races down your spine, settling deep in your bones. You tilt your head up, and he’s already looking at you—his gaze dropping to your lips, then back to your eyes, like he’s been waiting for permission his whole life.
“Jay…” you breathe, barely a whisper.
He doesn’t ask. He doesn’t tease. He just leans in, and his mouth crashes against yours.
It’s nothing like Jake’s soft shyness, nothing like Heeseung’s slow, deliberate taunts. Jay kisses you like he’s starving—hungry, sure, like he’s been holding back for weeks and finally can’t anymore. His lips are firm, warm, moving against yours with a heavy, demanding rhythm that makes your knees go weak. He licks into your mouth slow and deep, swallowing every little gasp you let out, his hands tightening on your waist like he wants to pull you right into him.
You tangle your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging him closer, and he groans low in his throat—the sound vibrating right through your chest. He walks you backward until your back hits the cold brick wall, one hand sliding down to grip your thigh, hiking your leg up around his hip so you’re pressed tight against every hard line of him. He kisses you deeper, harder, biting soft at your lower lip before soothing the sting with his tongue, like he’s claiming every part of you for himself.
You’re breathless, dizzy, drunk on him and the alcohol and the sheer weight of everything you’ve been craving. When he finally pulls back just an inch, his forehead resting against yours, both of you are panting hard.
“Fuck,” he breathes, his thumb brushing slow over your jaw. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”
His forehead stays pressed to yours for only a heartbeat before he’s kissing you again—harder, hungrier, like he’s making up for every second he held back. His hands slide down your back, gripping your thighs to lift you easily against the wall, and you wrap your legs tight around his waist, gasping into his mouth when you feel just how much he wants you pressed right against you.
There’s nothing gentle or tentative about this. He kisses you deep, his tongue sweeping slow and claiming through your parted lips, swallowing every shaky breath and quiet whimper you let out. His hands roam everywhere—under the hem of your dress, warm and rough against your bare skin, tracing the curve of your hips, your waist, pulling you so close there’s not an inch of space left between you.
“God, you have no idea,” he groans against your throat, teeth grazing soft over your pulse before he sucks slow and hard right where your neck meets your shoulder, making you arch and tangle your fingers tight into his hair. “No idea how long I’ve thought about this. About you.”
You can barely breathe, every nerve ending on fire, drunk on the taste of him and the way he touches you like he knows exactly what you need. His hand slides higher up your thigh, fingers brushing dangerously close to where you’re already throbbing for him, and you let out a broken little sound that makes him growl low in his chest.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, kissing his way back up to your mouth, his voice wrecked and rough. “Tell me right now and I’ll stop.”
You shake your head, pulling him back down to you, kissing him with everything you have—all the guilt, all the craving, all the weeks of pretending you didn’t want him more than anything. “Don’t stop. Please Jay—don’t stop.”
He makes a rough, broken sound against your lips, and lifts you up higher, carrying you fast toward the shadowed side of the garden, away from the lights and noise. He sets you down slow against the wall, his hands never leaving you, his mouth trailing hot, open kisses down your chest, over every inch of skin he can reach. Every touch burns, every kiss leaves you shivering, and for a little while you forget everything else—Heeseung, Jake, Niki, all the lines you shouldn’t cross—there’s only him, only the way he makes you feel like you’re finally where you’re supposed to be. Your dress rides up higher you lace panties peeking. The cold air hitting your exposed hip. His finger traced your waistband of your panties. And you melted at that alone. “C-can I?” Jay asks. “Please-“ you nod. His fingers slide past your panties to your bare core, his finger lightly traced your slit. Your head tilts back against the wall behind you— a soft sigh of pleasure escapes your lips and it sends a jolt through jays body— Jays lips kiss below your ear before whispering. “Your drenched…sweetheart” you melted. He began to rub your sensitive clit, which made you back arch instantly. “Jay!” You gasped under your breath. “Shhhh” he kisses the corner of your lip. “Just feel it.” He pumped a finger in you, and you cried out from how good it felt. “Like that… huh?” He smirked against your lips. “Fuck- yes” you breathed out before pressing your lips against his.
He kept going before you came within minutes. He pulled out his fingers and immediately brought it to his lips. Your heart stops, the sight of him sucking you juices of his fingers like that made you go insane. He kisses your lips once more before pulling away. “Let’s get you home, yeah?”
The house is dead quiet by the time you slip back inside, your legs still trembling, your skin buzzing like Jay’s hands are still on you. You drag yourself up the stairs, shower off the night in a daze, and collapse face-down onto your bed—but sleep won’t come. Every time you close your eyes, all you see is Jay: his dark blown-out gaze, the way his hands burned hot on your skin, the rough, broken things he’d breathed against your throat.
You roll onto your back, staring up at the ceiling, chest tight and tangled all over again. Guilt curls sharp in your gut—you’d kissed Jake, let Heeseung tease you until you were dizzy, and tonight you’d given Jay every part of you like you’d been waiting your whole life to do it. You bury your face in your pillow, half wishing you could forget everything, half wishing you could replay it all over again.
But your mind won’t settle, caught in a dizzying loop you can’t break. Jake wraps around you like soft, warm safety, like coming home to something gentle and steady; Heeseung burns bright and sharp, pulling you into a reckless, breathless spin you can’t bring yourself to step away from; and Jay… Jay feels like the quiet, inevitable pull you’ve been denying all along, heavy and sure and seared into every inch of you. You can’t pick one—can’t untangle the want from the guilt, the thrill from the fear, or what’s right from what feels so impossibly good. The weight of it all presses down until your chest aches: the secret kisses, the stolen touches, the brother you’d never mean to hurt, and the terrible truth that you’re already too far gone, lost between three different versions of what you crave, and completely unable to find your way back.
— END OF PART ONE —
