#this was supposed to be just smut but i didn't know how to do it without it being poorly paced so yeah so sorry | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mafiadad5 · 3 days ago

Text

Teach me to not love || L. HC (part 2)

𐙚 fuckboy!haechan x fem!reader (ft. best friend jaemin)

𐙚 Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 + bonus epilogue

𐙚 synopsis- Jaemin's out for revenge after Haechan slept with the girl he liked. You're just supposed to be a distraction, something pretty to keep Haechan's mind off of what Jaemin was doing. He's cute, addictive— you should stay away... you really should, but when he touches you like that how are you supposed to remember what's right?

𐙚 genre- college au, smut/ porn with plot (MDNI 18+), angst, slight fluff.

𐙚 warnings- drug use, alcohol use, pool sex, fingering, handjob, car sex, protected and unprotected sex (don’t do), oral (male receiving), degrading, praising, markings, rough sex, hair pulling, choking, sex under the influence, mentions of death.

𐙚 W/c- 17k

Now playing: Do I Wanna Know?- Arctic Monkeys

a/n- thank you all so much for the love on the last part, i appreciate it <3. Here’s part 2, I hope you enjoy it ! Let me know what you think, and if you want to be tagged in the final part! Luv y’all.

tags- @dnylwoo @haeclips @millis-diary @bbhbungee @sooohey @captainchrisstan @chocojiji @imnotrosiee @meatballsub420

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Tuesday — 12:03 PM

The apartment was too quiet.

The kind of quiet that made you hyper aware of every small sound. You sat cross legged on the couch in one of Jaemin's old hoodies, something he'd left months ago and you never returned, not even after Sunday's fallout. It still smelled faintly like his cologne, and you hated that it made your chest ache.

Two days— no texts, no calls, nothing from him, not a single word. And you weren't about to reach out first. Not when he'd called you a slut to your face.

Still, that didn't mean it didn't hurt— it stung deeply. A thousand small wounds under your skin that kept reopening every time you thought about the way he looked at you before slamming your door. Like he didn't recognize you.

You picked at your cuticles and tried not to think about it anymore, tried to redirect your focus, but then your mind went somewhere else you didn't expect.

Haechan.

His name echoed in your head in a way that was more frustrating than comforting. You didn't know why it lingered— why he lingered. You weren't supposed to care about him, you were supposed to have a one night thing and be done with it. That's what people did, right? Hook up and move on?

But you couldn't forget how warm his hands felt, how easy it was to laugh with him, how his voice went all soft and low when he said your name. And yeah, maybe you liked the way he kissed you too much, the way he touched you like he actually wanted you, not just your body. And that sucked because clearly he didn't care.

You chewed your lip, staring at your phone sitting face up on the armrest beside you. He hadn't texted, hadn't followed up, nothing. You weren't dumb, you knew what that meant.

You exhaled slowly and then against your better judgment you tapped his name and hit "call."

It rang... and rang... and rang.

No answer.

You let the silence settle after the last ring before locking your phone and tossing it face down onto the couch beside you. That was it then, whatever little thread you thought existed between you and Haechan had snapped the second he walked out without a second thought. He gotten what he wanted, you were just another girl in the pile.

You leaned back and stared at the ceiling, blinking against the heat behind your eyes.

"Stupid." You mumbled to yourself. "So fucking stupid."

8:04 PM

Your phone buzzed on the coffee table, screen lighting up once, twice, before your heart jolted.

Incoming Call: Haechan

You sat up slowly, phone already in your hand, staring at it like it might vanish. Then you pressed accept before your nerves could get the better of you.

"Hello?"

"Hey." He said, casual as ever. "You alive?"

You frowned, heart pounding. "You're calling me now?"

"What do you mean now? What, was I supposed to set an alarm?" He teased, voice light, and infuriatingly charming.

"You missed my call earlier."

"Did I?" He said, not even trying to sound apologetic. "My bad."

You scoffed a little, but before you could call him out, he continued.

"You wearing anything decent?"

Your mouth parted, caught off guard. "Excuse me?"

"Decent." He repeated. "Like, sexy. I wanna go downtown tonight."

You blinked. "That's the definition of decent?"

"For me, yeah." He said, and you could hear the grin in his voice. "C'mon, you in?"

There was a pause, then quietly: "Yeah."

He didn't miss a second. "Cool. I'll come at ten."

The knock at your door made your heart jump. You checked yourself one last time in the mirror, smoothing your skirt down over your thighs and adjusting the neckline of your top. You looked good, better than you had all week.

You opened the door, and Haechan was standing there, looking way too good for someone who called last minute. Black pants, dark shirt with the top buttons undone, a silver chain around his neck. He gave you a quick once over, eyebrows lifting with clear approval.

"There she is." He said, pulling a cart from his pocket, setting down a brown paper bag with two canned drinks inside. "Pregame?"

You hesitated for only a second before nodding. The drinks were stronger than they looked, and so was the cart. By the time you were calling a car, the tension in your shoulders had dissolved into laughter and warm energy.

The city was alive— neon lights, music spilling out of bars, and people moving in along the sidewalks. You and Haechan moved together, going into bar after bar, sampling drinks, snacks, cheap cocktails for no reason at all.

At one bar, you tried to pay for your fries and drinks, but he didn't let you.

"You know I can pay for my own stuff, right?"

He barely looked at you, handing over his card. "Congratulations, i'm happy for you."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help laughing. Everywhere you went, it felt like your own little bubble, Haechan's hand on your lower back, his voice in your ear, the two of you stumbling out of one bar, arm in arm, drunk and giggling.

You ended up in the shadowy corner booth of the last bar, pressed against each other, tasting the cocktails on each other's mouths. His hand was on your thigh, your fingers curled in his shirt, you didn't care who saw.

"Let's go." He murmured against your mouth.

The door slammed shut behind you, but neither of you noticed. You stumbled together through the hallway, laughing into each other's mouths, kissing with the kind of urgency that made you dizzy. Hands fumbled with buttons, tugged at belts, pulling fabric free until your shirts and pants hit the floor in a trail behind you.

He pressed you back onto the bed, his mouth warm on your neck, then your collarbones, then lower. You could feel his smile against your skin, each drag of his tongue making your breath catch.

"You've been driving me crazy all night." He murmured between licks, his voice low. "The way you looked at me across the table like you already knew I'd end up here."

You laughed, fingers curling in his hair. "Maybe I did."

His hands gripped your hips, his mouth exploring the line of your stomach. "You kept crossing your legs like that," He went on, lips brushing just above your waistband, "like you didn't want me to notice, but I noticed."

You gasped softly as he nipped at your skin, his fingers slipping beneath your underwear. "Do you have a condom?" You asked.

He paused for just a second. "I don't." He murmured, mouth still grazing your skin. "Doesn't matter though. I want you so bad, I don't care."

You froze slightly, hand on his shoulder."It does for me." You said softly. "If there's no condom, there's no sex."

He pulled back a little, brows raised. Then he nodded once and sat up, not annoyed, just neutral. "Okay."

You watched as he grabbed his shirt from the floor, sliding it over his head.

"You're leaving?" You asked quietly, still half naked.

He didn't look at you as he reached for his phone. "Yeah, gonna get going."

"You sure you don't wanna stay?" You tried again, a hint of something soft in your voice.

"I'm good." He said simply.

Your stomach twisted a little as he made his way to the door. You thought it was over again— done and dusted, just another night, but then he paused at the doorway, turning back to glance at you.

"You coming to the party Thursday?"

You blinked, caught off guard. "Am I invited?"

He smiled, that same crooked grin. "Always." Then he turned around, tugged the door open, and called over his shoulder: "See you Thursday, Y/n."

The door clicked shut behind him.

══════════════════════════

The music's already echoing down the block when you pull up, muffled bass thudding through the humid night air. You hesitate for a second on the sidewalk, adjusting your shirt. No one's waiting for you, no one knew you were coming except him, and you hate that it feels like you're chasing someone again.

Still, you push forward.

You step inside and it hits you instantly— everyone is half naked.

Swim trunks, bikinis, sun hats and cheap sunglasses. You blinked, trying to process what you'd just walked into.

And then you saw him. Standing near the kitchen with a beer in one hand and his head tilted back in a laugh, his tan skin glowing beneath the party lights. His swim trunks clung low to his hips.

Of course he spotted you... of course he grinned.

He was walking toward you in seconds, weaving through the crowd. You didn't even try to pretend you weren't watching him. You were and so was every other girl in the room.

He stopped in front of you, raking his eyes over your outfit with a smirk.

"Damn." He said. "Didn't get the memo?"

You crossed your arms. "Maybe because the person who invited me didn't mention it was a beach themed party."

He raised an eyebrow. "You blocked me."

You blinked. "What? No I didn't, text me right now."

He pulled his phone out casually, his thumb tapping a message, and seconds later your phone buzzed.

Haechan [11:37 PM]:

"I lied. Let's drink."

You looked up at him, trying not to smile. "You're actually insufferable."

He handed you a red cup anyway. "And yet, you're still here."

You took the drink. "Barely."

He held up a gummy between two fingers. "Edibles?"

You hesitated, then shrugged and opened your palm. "Might as well."

You popped it in your mouth and washed it down with the drink, already feeling yourself loosen. The lights felt a little warmer, the music easier to sink into.

And then without warning he grabbed your hand and pulled. "Come on." He said.

You didn't ask where, you just followed. He led you through the kitchen, past half naked bodies, through the back door and into the yard. The pool shimmered in the dark, glowing from the lights beneath the water. No one else was out here, just you and him.

Then he let go of your hand, took a running start, and leapt into the pool.

The splash was loud, water flying everywhere, and when he surfaced he was grinning like a kid— hair slicked back, skin wet and glistening under the moonlight.

"Get in." He said, laughing.

You stared at him. "I'm literally in clothes."

He shrugged. "So? You've got a place to crash and you can wear my clothes."

You tilted your head, amused. "Do I really?"

His hand shot out of the water, splashing you right in the stomach.

"Oops." He said, with a smile. "And now you're wet."

You blinked at the spot on your shirt, then looked back at him, biting back a smile. "You're an idiot."

"Still waiting."

With a quiet breath, you kicked off your shoes and stripped slowly, just to annoy him, down to your bra and underwear. You walked to the edge of the pool and dove in.

The water was cool and soft against your skin. You came up with a laugh, flipping your hair back, and he was already swimming toward you.

For a while, it was just fun. You laughed, splashed, floated near each other in that slow haze where nothing really mattered.

Eventually, you drifted to the side of the pool and leaned back against the tile, catching your breath.

Then you saw him coming, that look on his face— those eyes.

He glided through the water until he was right in front of you, hands sliding underwater to your waist. You let him pull you closer, your arms slipping up around his neck without even thinking.

He looked at your mouth. His voice came low, barely audible over the hum of the distant music. "Your lips look soft right now."

You laughed. "There's people inside, we might get caught."

He leaned in, mouth ghosting over your jaw. "They know to leave me alone."

That's when his eyes flicked past your shoulder toward the patio door. He paused before smirking.

You turned, confused and then saw him.

Jaemin.

He stood behind the sliding glass door, face unreadable, just staring. You can't tell what he's thinking— his arms crossed, his jaw tense, but his eyes were locked on you like he was burning holes through the glass.

Haechan smirked, head tilting slightly. "An audience already? You were right."

You freeze, caught between the temperature of the water and the sudden chill in your spine, but Haechan's fingers curled under your chin, gently turning your face back to him.

"Focus." He said softly.

Before you could blink he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours softly, but quickly it deepened. His hands slid down your body, his lips leaving yours only to trail lower, pressing open mouthed kisses along your jaw, then your neck. He lingered there, teeth grazing your skin as his breath tickled the sensitive spot beneath your ear. At the same time, his hand slid into your underwear with ease, fingers slipping through the heat and wetness he found there.

He teased you, slow circles that made your hips subtly roll toward him, aching for more. Then he paused, lifting his face from your neck, eyes locking onto yours. Still watching you, he pushed a finger inside. You let out a soft moan, your head falling back slightly as he began to move slowly, steady pumps that had you clinging to his shoulders.

He added a second finger, this time a louder gasp escaped your lips. His pace quickened, fingers curling just right, stroking that sensitive spot that made your vision blur. Pleasure crashes over you in waves, your body tightening around him as his touch brought you closer and closer to the edge.

You don't know what took over you, but your hand slides from the back of his neck, trailing down his torso, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his swim trunks. You wrapped your hand around him, stroking slowly at first, trying to match the rhythm of his fingers still moving inside you. His jaw tightened, a low groan leaving his throat as you touch him, your bodies locked.

His breathing grows heavier against your neck, the muscles in his arm flexing as his fingers continue their rhythm inside you faster. Your hips grind into his hand instinctively, desperate for more. Every stroke sends heat spiraling through your core, your grip on him tightening.

"Fuck." He muttered against your skin, voice low. His lips brushed your collarbone, then your shoulder before he sunk his teeth gently into your skin. His free hand curled around your waist, pulling you tighter against him as his cock twitched in your palm. You can feel how close he is, how much restraint he's barely clinging to.

"Shit, keep going, just like that." He said, voice thick with lust.

You stroke him a little faster, your thumb brushing over the tip. His fingers grew more urgent inside you, thrusts rougher, curling with every motion until you're clenching around him, moans escaping your lips.

"Fuck, you're gonna make me cum." He muttered, voice rough now, his forehead resting against yours. "So fucking tight around my fingers."

The filthy sweetness of his words, the intensity in his eyes, the pressure building inside you pushed you even closer.

You could barely breathe now, every nerve in your body burning. The tension in your stomach tightened with each thrust of his fingers, each rough stroke of your hand around him.

"Fuck, baby." He panted against your lips, voice wrecked. "You gonna cum for me?"

You nod, unable to form words, only gasps and whimpers as his fingers drive into you fast. He curls them just right again, and your body falls apart, pleasure crashing over you like a wave. Your hips jerk as you tighten around him, your walls pulsing.

Your hand doesn't stop moving on him, if anything, you grip him tighter through the aftershocks of your orgasm, stroking him faster.

"Shit, just like that. Fuck, your hand feels so good— gonna cum baby."

You meet his eyes, dazed but focused, lips parted as you keep stroking. "Then do it." you whisper.

With a low, broken whimper, he presses his forehead to your shoulder, his whole body tensing. "Fuck—" His hips jerk as he spills into your hand, his cock twitching in your grip. You keep stroking him through it slowly as he breathes heavy against you.

For a moment, there's only the sound of your breathing, trying to return to normal. He finally lifts his head, eyes still dark, but softer now, a smile forming on his lips.

He leaned his forehead against yours with a breathless laugh, eyes half lidded.

"C'mon." He murmured. "You're not sleeping in wet underwear."

He grabbed your hand, tugging you out of the pool, water dripping from both of you onto the patio. He doesn't bother drying off before leading you through the back door and up the stairs.

His room is quiet, darker than the rest of the house. The walls were still humming with bass, but it's distant.

He lets go of your hand once you were inside and headed straight to his dresser, pulling out an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts.

"Shower's down the hall, second door on the right. There should be towels and wash cloths in there, but if not, yell."

You nodded slowly, taking the clothes from his hand.

Then he paused by the door, rubbing the back of his neck. "I gotta go back down."

You nod again, this time a little quieter. "Ok."

He lingered for a second, like he wanted to say something else, but then he just gave you a faint smile and slipped out.

The shower's quick, you pulled on his clothes afterward. You found your way back to his room, flipping the light off and sliding under the covers. The sheets are cool against your bare legs, and the noise of the party downstairs feels far enough away to pretend you're not still in his house.

But you can't sleep.

You lie there for what feels like an hour, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. Your thoughts spin, circling Jaemin's expression, Haechan's kiss, the way his fingers held your waist like he didn't want to let go. Everything feels like a dream, a really vivid reckless one.

The door creaks open and you sit up a little too fast. "Hey."

He steps inside quietly, running a hand through his hair as he closes the door behind him.

"You're awake?" He asked.

You nod. "Couldn't sleep."

He kicked off his shoes before sitting at the edge of the bed, glancing at you with a little grin. "Too many thoughts?"

You laugh softly. "Something like that."

There's a moment of silence between you, not awkward, just normal. He shifts onto the bed properly, lying beside you on top of the covers, hands behind his head as he stares at the ceiling too.

You glance over at him. "So... that was a scene earlier."

He laughed under his breath. "What, the pool?"

"No, you kissing me in front of that guy like that."

"Oh." He said, before turning his head to look at you, completely unbothered. "Yeah, that."

"You planned that?"

"Nope." He said casually. "But I saw him watching, figured it was the perfect time."

You squinted. "Why?"

He shrugged. "He doesn't know how to leave well enough alone."

You don't ask more, you don't have the energy to unravel anything, not tonight.

He turned towards you slightly. "You should get some rest."

You nod, eyes heavier now. "What about you?"

"I'm gonna shower, then maybe I'll crash."

He slipped out of the room again, and this time, you let your eyes close.

You woke up to sunlight creeping in through the blinds and the feeling of warmth beside you.

You blinked slowly, vision adjusting— and there he is.

Haechan was on his side, breathing steady, hair tousled from sleep, one arm slung casually over the pillow between you, lips parted slightly.

You sat up in a panic. "Shit. Shit— what time is it?" You fumbled for your phone, eyes wide... you missed class.

Haechan groaned beside you, blinking awake. "What's wrong?"

"I missed class. I never miss class— fuck."

He propped himself up on one elbow, rubbing his eyes. "Chill." He muttered. "It's one class, you're fine."

You groaned, falling back against the pillows. "Still, I was supposed to go."

He yawned, then stretches and finally asks: "You hungry?"

You paused, then a small smile broke across your lips. "...Actually, yes."

He reached for the nightstand, grabbing his wallet, flipping it open and pulled out a folded bill.

"Here." He said, holding it out to you.

You blinked at it. "What?"

"Take it, go get food." He sighed, smirking. "There's some good spots on the way back to your place from what I remember."

You finally smiled, taking the cash, folding it slowly between your fingers.

"Thanks." You said quietly.

He moved to the dresser, grabbing your clothes from last night and hands them to you, turning his back to give you privacy as you get dressed.

"What do you have planned today?" You asked, pulling your shirt over your head.

He shrugged, still turned away. "Not much. My brother's coming to visit, so we're just chilling."

"Oh." You say, tying your shoes. "That's nice."

He turned back around once you're ready, watching you with unreadable eyes.

You nod toward the door. "I'll head out then."

He just gave a small nod. "Ok."

And you leave quietly.

══════════════════════════

It was that time again— Thursday, the day you waited for all week. The day that had somewhere along the way become routine, a strange kind of comfort.

You showed up like always, stepping through the door and immediately spotting him across the room. Haechan met you with that familiar smile, only tonight it looked a little worn, like it was more out of habit than genuine ease.

"You ok?" You asked, your hand instinctively rubbing his shoulder. Your fingers pressed lightly against him, like you could ease the tension you already sensed.

"Yeah yeah, I'm just— can I talk to you for a second?" His voice dropped low, like he didn't want to be overheard.

You nodded, brows tugging together slightly. "Yeah, of course."

He led you upstairs, the floorboards creaking beneath your steps while the music from the party thumped under your feet. Once you were in his room, he shut the door behind you with a quiet click and let out a deep sigh. He didn't speak right away, just ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head like he was trying to scatter his thoughts.

"Is everything okay?" You asked again, your voice a little softer this time.

"Just needed a fucking breather." His words were blunt, but not angry. He turned toward the door, checking that it was locked. When he looked back at you the smile was there again, this time stretched wider than before, too wide.

"If you came with me, they won't bother."

You tilted your head slightly, a playful smirk curling on your lips. "Who are you running from?"

"One of my best friend's brother." He started, pacing a little as he talked. "He's in town for a few days and of course he's gonna be at my parties, he's family, but something about him dude. He practically talked me sober, and that's hard to do— how did he even manage that? I just needed a break."

You giggled, crossing your legs on the edge of his bed. "You distressed over a party? Never thought I'd see the day."

He gave you a look, but it lacked any real irritation. "Would you kick out your best friend's sibling?"

You hesitated, shrugging unsurely.

"Exactly."

"No problem kicking out girls though." You muttered under your breath, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

His head turned toward you, eyebrows raised. "Yeah? You're right. Probably about to do it right now, actually."

"Do it then." You challenged, eyes narrowing.

He paused, his gaze hardening just slightly, a quiet tension rising between you. "Get the fuck out my room."

You blinked, caught a little off guard. "You serious?"

"What do you think?" He asked, eyes still locked on yours, tone unreadable.

Your chest tightened slightly as you stood, hesitating for a beat as you reached for the doorknob. You twisted it slowly, almost dragging out the motion like you were hoping he'd stop you. He didn't, not even a word.

You stepped into the hallway, the party noise rushing in like a wave, voices and music swirling around you.

"Y/n." You heard behind you.

You turned quickly. He was standing there again, keys in hand. "You hungry?"

You blinked, a bit surprised. "No... not really."

"I don't care." He shut the door behind him with one hand, shaking his keys in the other. "You're coming with me."

"Oh— okay." You followed him down the stairs, weaving through bodies.

"Wait at the door, I'll be right back." He said.

You nodded and did as you were told, leaning against the doorframe. Your phone buzzed and you looked down at it, just a meaningless notification, but when you looked up again, your eyes landed on Jaemin. He was walking toward the porch, and your stomach dropped slightly.

Your eyes met. There was a flicker of recognition, of something. His mouth opened slightly like he wanted to say something, but before he could,

Haechan was there sliding in beside you and grabbing your hand. His fingers laced into yours.

"Alright, let's go." His voice was loud enough for Jaemin to hear, and you watched as Jaemin's gaze dropped to your joined hands, then back to your face. He didn't say anything, just walked past with a blank expression.

You looked down at your hand in his. "This is new."

"Relax." Haechan said, lips tugging into a smirk as he let go of your hand once you made it to the car.

You climbed into the passenger seat, adjusting your bag on your lap as he started the car. The engine roared louder than expected, and the ride was... bumpy, literally.

"You're kind of a bad driver, you know?" You teased, pulling out your lip gloss from your pocket.

"It's the road, not me." He shot back, one hand resting lazily on the steering wheel.

"Sounds like something a bad driver would say." You started applying your gloss, only for the car to hit a bump, your hand jerking, smearing the gloss down your chin.

"Shit, Haechan." You turned toward him groaning as he just laughed.

"Do you have napkins in here or something?" You asked, flipping open the glove compartment. Inside, a few napkins... and a box of condoms still sealed.

You paused, taking a deep breath. "Really?" You said, holding the box up.

"Eyes on the road, sweetheart." He said, completely unfazed.

"I'm not the one driving!"

"Ok, you call me a bad driver, but then want me to take my eyes off the road? What kind of sense does that make?"

"Haechan—" You glanced between him and the road. "We're at a red light."

He bit his lip, clearly holding back a laugh as his eyes flicked over to you.

"Yeah, what now?" You said, narrowing your eyes.

"I was in the store and I thought about you, so I decided to pick them up."

You scoffed, dropping the box back into the compartment and slamming it shut. "Wow, how refreshing. You thought about me and instead of, hmm, flowers or something, you bought contraceptives. Is that why you invited me out— you just wanted to fuck?"

"I could do that at home." He said plainly, pulling into the parking lot.

You went quiet, stunned at the bluntness of it. "Whatever."

He pulled into the space and stopped the car, hands still on the wheel.

"Listen." He said, turning slightly. "I actually wanted to go out with you. If you're just gonna bitch and moan about what you think I want, then we can just get into the backseat right now and get it over with. If not, then let's eat— I am starving, impatient, and too fucking sober."

You swallowed. "Ok." You said, quieter this time.

"Ok." He repeated, flipping off the ignition.

You followed him inside, a low lit bar with creaky booths and laminated menus. You slid into a booth together, menus in hand.

"What do you want?" He asked.

"I'm not really hungry." You said with a shrug.

He didn't blink. "What do you want?"

You sighed. "Okay, um... I'll just take whatever you're having."

"I'm getting a burger and fries, it's pretty big— are you sure?"

"I'm taking some from your plate, so I'm sure." You smiled innocently.

"Uh uh. Just get your own."

"Feels better knowing it's yours though. It'll taste better."

"Whatever." He muttered, already flagging the waitress. "Do you actually want my food? I'll get a large basket of fries."

"That would be nice." You said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips.

The order was placed, and for a while, you just sat there in the buzz of low music and clinking glasses.

"So." You broke the silence. "You like flowers?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, like he was trying to figure out where you were going with it.

"You, um— you had a lot in your backyard. And in your room, some plants too."

"You're observant." He said, sipping his drink.

"It doesn't take much effort to just pay attention to someone."

He nodded once, like he didn't disagree. "Yeah, I like flowers. It's been a hobby. Peaceful, nerdy, I guess."

"It's kinda cute." You said in a smile.

He chuckled. "Yeah? What's your favorite flower?"

"I don't know... you should teach me."

"About flowers?" He asked, amused. "That sounds like a setup. Who really doesn't know their favorite flower?"

"Setup to what?"

He didn't answer, just shook his head again.

"I guess I just like all flowers." You continued. "I like the ones in my favorite color, the color matters more to me."

"And what's that?"

"Red, pink too."

"So roses— why didn't you just say that?"

"That's like... the most basic answer. I had to be different."

He shook his head, a smile on his face."You are... surely something else."

"What's your favorite?" You questioned.

"Sunflower." He answered simply.

"Why? Those die fast."

"They only die because people don't take care of them. From what I'm hearing, you're one of those people."

"Hey, don't get mad at me. I asked you to teach me, remember? You said I was setting you up, don't throw a tantrum."

His head tilted, eyes squinting. "Yeah, how'd you know they die fast if you don't know about flowers?"

"I just guessed." You shrugged defensively.

Your food arrived shortly after. He pushed the fries toward you. "Help yourself."

You frowned. "Where's the sauce?"

He blinked. "What sauce?"

"You don't eat sauce with fries?" You questioned.

"No, they're good alone." He said, lips in a thin line.

You raised your eyebrows. "They're basically raw fried potatoes."

"They're fried, that's flavor enough." He said in a shrug.

"You're out of your mind."

"You're out of your mind." He repeated.

You waved down the waitress for sauce, shaking your head in disbelief.

The meal continued and between bites and sarcasm, you found yourself studying him— how his expressions changed, how casually he sat.

"I still can't believe you eat fries raw."

"Everything's better raw." He said, licking salt off his thumb.

You blinked. "Yeah, of course you say that you freak."

He grinned. "I didn't even— I'm just being honest."

Your head tilted with curiosity. "Why are you so into that anyway?"

"I just am. I don't know. I like the feel, the look— it's hot.” He hesitated for a moment. "What about you— what are you into?"

"I don't know." You said honestly. "I've only had sex with you."

"You don't have any fantasies in that pretty head? I didn't put any in there?"

"Nope. You probably took some off my list, honestly."

"Me? I took some off your list?" He leaned in slightly.

"You're not as good as you think, you know." You said.

"I'm not?" He challenged.

"Nope."

"No?" He turned towards the waitress. "Excuse me, can I get the check please?"

"Uh uh." You said, shaking your head.

"Okay." He smirked, tossing his card on the table.

"Okay." You taunted, mirroring his smug tone.

He slid his card back into his wallet, then turned to you. "Let's go."

You stepped out into the warm night air, the echo of your footsteps quiet against the pavement. He followed behind you closely, but not rushing. You stopped at the passenger side of the car, fingers brushing the handle, waiting for that familiar 'click', but it didn't come.

Instead, he brushed past you with that maddening calmness, heading for the backseat. He threw you a sideways glance, the corner of his mouth lifting.

"You started it." He said lowly, before pulling the back door open and slipping inside.

You laughed under your breath, glancing around the nearly empty parking lot, then at the car's tinted windows. With one last glance over your shoulder, you opened the door and climbed in after him, shutting it behind you.

He was already waiting, leaned back against the seat, legs spread just enough to make a point, eyes heavy on you as you crawled into his lap. His hands went to your hips instinctively, but he didn't pull you in yet.

He leaned closer, lips parting, but you pulled back just slightly, a teasing smirk on your face.

"Oh, you're teasing?" He asked, a laugh caught in his throat, eyes flickering to your lips and back.

"Maybe." You answered in a light giggle, fingers sliding up his chest, soft and slow, settling at the side of his neck. You rubbed your thumb along his jaw, letting your lips hover over his without quite touching.

He let out a low, amused breath. "I promise." He said, voice dipping. "I will get the last laugh."

His hands slid down your back, gripping your ass as you finally leaned in, closing the distance between your mouths. The kiss was messy, tongues tangling together. You broke away first, breathless, trailing your mouth down his neck. It started soft, but quickly grew rougher. You sucked harder, kissed deeper, and when you found that spot— the one that made his whole body flinch, you didn't let up.

His breathing grew heavier, his voice catching in his throat as a gasp slipped out. You kept going, grinding slowly in his lap while your mouth worked that sensitive patch of skin, drawing out more moans from deep in his chest. His hips bucked beneath you, hands gripping your waist harder.

"G— get a condom." He gasped out, voice filled with need.

You lifted your head, lips swollen, red marks already blooming along his neck. You nodded wordlessly, turning to reach for the glove compartment. You opened the box, grabbing one before turning back around, but before you could get settled, he moved fast.

In one quick motion, he spun you around, pushing you forward. You let out a startled breath, your confusion turning into a sharp gasp as he tugged down your jeans and underwear in one firm motion, then landed a stinging slap to your ass.

"Wha—?" You started, but he was already pulling you back adjusting your hips, lining himself up behind you. You felt his cock, pressing at your entrance.

"Don't move." He murmured, tearing open the condom behind you. Then his hands gripped your hips tightly as he slid in slowly, filling you inch by inch. A moan escaped your lips at the stretch, the pressure, the feeling of him completely inside you. He groaned right behind you, forehead pressing into your shoulder for a moment.

Your hands found his thighs, trying to stabilize yourself, breath shaky. Then you felt his hand slide up your torso, settling at the base of your neck. Slowly, he wrapped it around your throat.

"Move." He whispered in your ear. "Ride me, show me how bad you want it."

You began to move slowly at first, rolling your hips against him. The stretch still had your legs shaking slightly, but the ache felt good, addictive. His grip on your throat tightened just a little, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who was in control.

You pushed yourself up a little, grinding down on him, adjusting your angle. The reaction was instant, his free hand digging into your hip guiding your rhythm, not letting you escape the pace he wanted.

"Fuck." He muttered, eyes locked on where your bodies met. "Look at you— taking all of me like that, feels so fucking good."

You moved faster now, riding him with more purpose, each bounce pulling moans from both of you. His grip on your throat slipped up, fingers tangling into your hair, tugging your head back just enough to expose your neck to him again.

"Think you can tease me, huh?" He growled, lips brushing your ear. "Look at you now—moaning like a slut in the backseat. You love this shit, don't you?"

"Yes." You gasped barely able to speak, each thrust now hitting that perfect spot inside you. Your fingers dug into his thighs, desperate to stay grounded, your body already close to unraveling.

He pulled you flush against his chest, one hand gripping your jaw now as he pounded up into you. "Say it again."

"Yes— fuck, yes I love it." You choked out, your voice cracking on the edge of your orgasm.

Your body tensed, heat exploding in your stomach. Your thighs quivered around him as pleasure overtook you.

"Oh my god." You gasped, voice cracking.

You clenched around him, your body shaking violently as the orgasm rolled through you in powerful waves. You could barely breathe, your nails digging into his thighs, holding on for dear life as you rode out every last pulse.

He groaned loudly, his control completely slipping at the feel of you squeezing him so tightly.

"Shit, I'm gonna—" His hips snapped up, body tensing as he came hard inside the condom, curses spilling against your shoulder. You felt the pulsing throb of him inside you, your bodies jerking together in a final desperate grind.

The sound of your gasping breaths filled the space, sweat slicking your bodies, your thighs trembling as you stayed draped over him.

You both took a moment to collect yourselves before slipping back into the front seat, clothes adjusted, hair smoothed. Your breath hadn't fully settled yet, and your thighs still ached faintly.

He leaned back in the driver's seat, exhaling slowly as he ran a hand through his hair then he glanced over at you.

"Did you drive to my house?" He asked, his voice low and casual.

You shook your head. "No, called a car."

He nodded once, turning the key in the ignition.

"Why?" You asked.

"So I can take you home." He replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh." You hesitated. "I'm not going back to your place?"

He turned his head toward you, brows raising slightly. "Do you want to?"

Your lips parted, caught off guard by the way he asked. God you did, not even just for the sex or the comfort of his bed, you just wanted more time with him. Wanted to be near him even in the quiet moments when nothing was happening.

"Um... it's up to you." You said softly, eyes dropping to your lap.

"Uhh..." He paused, his gaze drifting toward the windshield like he needed help finding the right words. "Just go home. You'll probably just be alone if we go back to my place, so... kinda pointless."

"Oh." You nodded, swallowing down the small lump forming in your throat. "Okay."

You tried to smile, tried to keep your expression neutral, but the edges of it faltered before you could stop them, and you looked out the window to hide it.

He turned back to look at you, studying your face for a long second. Then his hand reached out, warm as it cupped your cheek. His thumb brushed lightly along your skin before he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, like he was trying to make up for what he couldn't say.

"Let's get you home baby." He murmured against your lips.

"Okay." You offered a small smile, this time a little more real.

The rest of the ride passed mostly in silence, the kind that wasn't quite comfortable, but not heavy either. You leaned against the window, watching the city blur by in streaks color and lights.

Finally, he pulled up in front of your apartment building, shifting the car into park. "Here we are." He said, glancing over at you.

"Thanks." You said quietly, fingers already curling around the door handle.

You opened the door, the night air rushing in to meet you, cooler than you remembered. You stepped out, shutting it gently behind you. He waited a minute longer before driving off, and you stood there for a second longer than you needed to, watching the taillights disappear down the street.

You didn't really want to go inside, but you did anyway.

══════════════════════════

Life's been... okay.

Not terrible, not amazing either. Just somewhere in that weird middle space that never really feels like enough.

You haven't spoken to Jaemin at all— not since that night, and he hasn't spoken to you either. At first, it felt like a breath of fresh air, not having someone hovering, asking for things, pushing for more, but lately the silence has crept in. You missed him, missed the way he always showed up, even when you didn't ask. How he brought you your favorite food every time you were sick, how he took your side even when you didn't deserve it. He was constant in a way that no one else had been.

You guess that's over now, at least until he decides to grow up and apologize.

You were lying on your bed, eyes on the ceiling, mind wandering as it usually did. The morning sun streamed through your blinds, warm on your skin. Your phone buzzed beside you, you just turned your head lazily.

Haechan... of course.

This was the part of your life that made it "okay." Not boring, at least. It was always the same cycle with him: He'd ignore your calls during the day, always calling back at night asking to hang out, or to just hear your voice because "he missed it." You rarely saw him during the week except Thursdays, when you showed up to whatever party he was hosting.

But you liked him, you liked him more than you wanted to. You didn't know why you were so pulled in, why this routine made your life feel fuller. Maybe it was the way he always felt like a distraction you wanted to get lost in.

You answered the call, putting it on speaker as your phone rested on your stomach.

"Hello." You said.

"Hey, precious. How are you?" His voice had that familiar smoothness, like he was stretched out somewhere with the sun on his skin.

"I'm good. How are you, Haechan?" You replied, voice soft.

"I'm okay."

"You didn't answer my call yesterday." You said.

"Yeah, I was busy. I'm free now though, and I really wanna go watch the sunset at the beach tonight... and get high."

"Then go do that, baby." You said dryly.

"I wanna do it with you. I rented out a beach house for the night."

"I wasn't invited, so have fun." You joked.

"You were invited."

"I didn't hear a 'Y/n, I would love for you to come to the beach with me, please.' Now did I?"

He laughed. "Wow, you want to hear it that bad, huh?"

"Yep."

"Alright, well I guess I'll see you when I get back then."

"Woww." You said dramatically. "I can really tell how much I mean to you. Whatever, what's today?" You swiped your screen. "Friday, 10:34 AM. I have class in like two hours anyway."

"You can miss it."

"I can't keep missing class, Haechan." You said, sighing.

"You're smart, grades are still good from what you told me. So why does it matter?"

"You always do this. I can't keep skipping out just because of you."

"Oh, so now it's my fault?" He said, voice playful.

"Yeah, it is."

"Well then, I take full accountability. And I'm about to take full accountability for doing it again. Please, I want you there with me."

You sighed, staring at your ceiling for a moment. "Okay, fine."

"Yeah?" He asked, you could hear the smile in his voice.

"Only because I want to watch the sunset on the beach."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be there in thirty. Wear something comfy, we've got a bit of a drive."

You hung up smiling, already rolling off your bed to pack your overnight bag.

The drive was long, but the windows were down, and the music was loud. His hand found your thigh more than once, lazily rubbing circles there when he wasn't steering or rolling the blunt he promised to light later.

By the time you got to the beach house, the sun was out, bright in the blue sky. The place was beautiful, right on the water with a private stretch of sand.

You put on a swimsuit and he changed into his own. Swim trunks hung low on his hips, a silver chain glinting against his sun-warmed chest. It was impossible not to stare.

Soon, you were both down at the beach, waves kissing your ankles as you ran through the shallow water. He chased you, dramatic and loud, lifting you off your feet and tossing you into the water as you screamed. You splashed him back, water dripping down your face as you laughed like a child.

You played for what felt like hours— kicking through the water, jumping into the waves, lying side by side on the wet sand.

As the sun dipped lower, melting into the ocean in shades of purple and orange, he was deeper in the water, you just at the shore sitting on the sand as waves hit your legs.

"Come here." He called.

You nodded, floating towards him. "Yeah?" You questioned.

He pulled you close, wrapping your legs around his waist and gripping the back of your thighs. "Just wanted you near me." He said, smiling.

You smiled, wrapping your hands around his neck. "The sun is setting."

"I know."

"You wanted to smoke." You said, your hand reaching to cup his cheek.

"I know." He said again, chuckling before pulling you into a kiss.

He pulled you out of the water and led you to the towel he'd laid out earlier. You sat down, and he lit the blunt with one hand, passing it to you.

"I like it here." You murmured.

"Me too." He replied, his voice softer now. "It's nice when it's just us."

You didn't say anything, just stared out at the horizon letting yourself think. This felt real. Like maybe, just maybe, whatever you two were building was starting to mean something. You didn't say it of course, but the thought lingered in your mind as the sun finally setting.

"You know." You said through the silence, as you both sat at the towel. The cool ocean breeze chilling your skin, waves sounding in the background as the moon reflected off the water. "I'm terrified of the ocean at night."

"Why is that?" He questioned.

"It's just, it's like a void. You can't see anything, what's beneath." You replied.

"You're scared of the dark?" He asked.

"I never said that." You giggled, hitting his arm playfully. "I'm just, things that seem, terrifyingly repetitive. Something so big that you don't know what's ahead of you."

He nodded.

"What about you— what are you scared of?" You questioned.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Nothing."

"That can't be true. Everyone's afraid of something."

Everything was quiet for a long moment. He looked up at the moon, eyes reflecting.

"Commitment." He said finally, his voice low.

You paused for a second before turning to him. "Why?"

"Just to put your heart into something, your love, your soul, just to be disappointed and let down. It's terrifying don't you think?" He said, the contact never breaking from the moon.

"It is." You agreed. "But if you spend all your time thinking about how it might go wrong... you'll ruin it before it even begins. That's not protecting yourself, that's self sabotage."

He paused for a second, eyes flicking down. "I don't think I can do it."

"Then what are you doing now?" You asked.

He paused, before he turned to you. He just stared into your eyes, saying nothing— but his eyes spoke a million words. You weren't sure what those words meant, but it was something. Then he looked away again, back toward the sea. You turned back too, looking at the stars as quietness settled again. You leaned your head on his shoulder, your fingers sliding into his as your hands met.

The drive back was full of laughter, music, the two of you playfully arguing about which snacks were superior and what song should play next. It felt good... normal. For a second you let yourself imagine doing this more often. Just... being with him.

But eventually, the ride ended. He pulled up to your apartment, putting the car in park.

You turned to him. "I had a really good time." You said honestly. "Thank you."

He gave a slight nod, lips pressing together. "Yeah."

There was a long pause, the engine still humming. "Just... call me or something." He added.

You hesitated. "You never answer when I do."

He paused, then licked his lips. "Just... take your chances."

You gave a small smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Okay."

And then you got out, closing the door behind you.

══════════════════════════

Your days had blurred together, a messy tangle of deadlines and group meetings. It was the busiest you'd ever been, and you hadn't even realized it was Thursday until your phone rang, yanking you out of a half dazed focus as your fingers hovered over your keyboard.

Haechan's name lit up the screen.

Your heart jumped before your brain could catch up. You had taken your chances just like he told you to. Called him on Friday...nothing. Sunday... ignored. Tuesday...same. After that you gave up, told yourself he didn't owe you anything. Still, he hovered in your mind constantly, a weight on your chest even when you were trying to write about something completely unrelated.

You swallowed, pressing the phone to your ear. "Hello?"

"Hey." His voice casual and unbothered. "Where are you?"

"Home." You said a little too flatly.

"Why are you not here?"

You blinked. "Why would I be?"

"To see me." He replied, like that should've been obvious.

"You haven't even been answering my calls." You said, trying not to sound hurt, failing.

"I was busy, what do you want me to do? Didn't know it fucking mattered that much."

You flinched slightly at the way his tone sharpened. "You told me to call and then you just left me hanging." You said quieter.

There was a moment of silence. "Can you just come?"

"No, I'm busy." You replied, firmer this time. "I'm working on a book report right now."

"That can wait."

"No, it can't. If you want to see me that bad, you come here."

"Can't. My friends are already on my ass about ditching my own parties."

You sighed, the irritation in your chest threatening to spill over. "Well, I don't know what you want me to do."

"Come." He repeated, more insistent this time.

"I really need to get this project finished, it's worth fifty percent of my grade, and I'm already slipping in the class."

"When's the due date?"

"In like... a month, but still—"

"Oh my god, Y/n." He let out a laugh, half amused, half exasperated. "You literally have time, just come over."

You bit your lip, hating how easily you crumbled. "Okay... but I'm not getting dressed."

"Fine with me." He said, like he was smiling. "See you in a minute."

You hung up the phone and just stared at the screen. You didn't know why your mind worked this way, why you kept doing this to yourself— shifting your priorities, pushing aside your own needs, just because he called. But you were already grabbing your bag.

The music was loud through the door when you arrived, per usual. Eyes scanning the crowd instinctively until they landed on him standing near the kitchen, drink in hand.

"You made it." He said, lighting up when he saw you.

"Yep." You smiled, letting him pull you into a brief hug.

"Fuck, can you take a shot with me?" He asked, eyes a little glassy. Definitely not his first drink.

"Yeah, sure."

You downed it in one gulp, the burn settling into your chest. The two of you talked like usual, until three guys came over, breaking the moment.

"Yo, what's up." Haechan greeted, dapping them up. "This is Y/n, yeah— you guys know."

You gave them a polite wave and a smile and they did the same, none of them offering names though.

"Dude, have you seen Jaemin?" One of them asked.

Your stomach dropped at the name.

"Nah, he just always fucking disappears." Another chimed in.

"He's here?" Haechan asked, sounding surprised.

"I'm not even sure anymore." The first guy muttered, looking around. "I'm just gonna go look for him and smoke."

"Without me? Shit, I'll come too." Another said, and the two of them disappeared, leaving one guy behind.

Haechan turned away to fix himself another drink.

"So, Y/n, right?" The guy said, leaning in a little closer.

"Yep." You nodded, keeping your voice polite.

"You're seriously really pretty." He said, smiling.

Before you could respond, Haechan turned around, giving him a warning face.

"Thank you." You said softly, trying to defuse it.

"You should spend your time with me tonight instead." The guy laughed.

"Dude, what the fuck?" Haechan snapped, fully turning now.

"It was just a joke Haechan, chill." The guy said, raising his hands.

"Some shit isn't funny, Mark." He muttered, before turning back around.

You touched his shoulder gently. "Baby, relax..."

He turned his head slowly to look at you, his expression unreadable. "Baby? Yeah, right." The words came out low and sharp.

Ouch.

He downed the rest of his drink and walked away without another word, disappearing into the crowd.

You stood there, caught in the awkward silence with Mark, your skin burning.

"I should probably..." You mumbled, gesturing toward the dance floor.

He nodded, and you slipped away. You looked everywhere— through the crowd, up the stairs, even outside in the backyard, nothing.

Finally, your feet brought you back inside, through the hallway, the same one where everything first started with him, and there he was leaning against the wall, head tilted back like he was trying to calm the storm in his head.

"Um... hello?" You said, stepping closer.

He looked over at you slowly. "Hello."

"What, you're embarrassed of me now? What the hell was that out there?"

He pushed himself off the wall, inching toward you. "No. No, I'm not." His voice was quieter now. "Listen, Y/n— baby, I'm just... he's so fucking annoying. Talking to you like that, like you're some kind of slut. You wouldn't do that, right?"

You blinked, taken aback. "Do what?"

"Fuck my friends." He said, his voice filled with distress.

You stared at him. "No, I would never do that."

"I know you wouldn't." He said quickly. "But he keeps bugging me, and I—" He trailed off, jaw clenching.

Before you could say more he reached out, pulling you into him by the waist.

"You need to calm down." You said, your voice soft, eyes searching his.

He didn't respond— at least not with words. Instead, he kissed you, hard and sudden, like kissing you was the only way to shut his thoughts up. Like it was the only thing that made any sense in his fucked up head.

The kiss grew rougher, needier— his hands tangled in your hair, your lips moving in sync. Then without warning he broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to look at you.

His eyes lingered on your face, dark and intense, you could feel your pulse pounding in your ears.

"Can you do something for me?" He asked, his voice low and almost too calm, like he already knew the answer.

You swallowed, your breath shallow. "What is it?"

He didn't answer, instead he gently took your wrists and guided you down, lowering you to your knees in front of him. Your heart thudded in your chest as you looked up at him, your hands resting lightly on his thighs.

"But..." You hesitated, eyes darting nervously. "What if someone sees?"

"No one will." He said firmly, his fingers brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Your eyes flicked back to his, uncertainty flickering in your expression.

"It's—" You began, your voice quiet, almost unsure. "It's also my first time... doing this."

He looked down at you for a long moment.

"Don't you think we're a little past that?" He said. "You've already had me inside you, you want this."

You stayed quiet, your teeth catching your bottom lip as the weight of his words settled over you. There was truth in them, too much truth. You couldn't deny the heat pooling in your stomach at the way he looked at you now.

Slowly you reached up and began to unbutton his pants. He didn't move, didn't say a word, just watched you. Eyes dark, lips parted, waiting.

"You don't have to be perfect." He murmured, his voice suddenly softer.

You looked up at him again, nervous.

He let out a slow breath, his hand resting lightly at the back of your head, thumb grazing your cheek. "Go on."

You stared at him for a moment longer, lips parted, heart pounding.You leaned in slowly, hesitating for a moment, then pressed a tentative kiss to the tip.

"That's it." He whispered. "Just go slow."

You licked your lips, tasting him, then did it again— longer this time, feeling every twitch, every subtle response in his body. His muscles tensed under your touch. You could tell he was holding back, letting you set the pace.

You opened your mouth and took him in, just the head at first. His reaction was immediate, his hips jerking ever so slightly.

"Fuck... yeah, just like that." He muttered, eyes locked on you. "You're doing so good."

You pulled back, lips wrapping around him tighter, watching his reaction as you went lower again, taking a little more. Your jaw ached slightly, but it was drowned out. You were getting lost in the rhythm, his quiet moans, the way his hand cradled your head now, guiding you but never forcing.

His voice dropped. "Look at you... so pretty."

You started to move with more confidence now, hollowing your cheeks slightly, using your hand to stroke what you couldn't take. You let your eyes flutter shut for a moment, losing yourself, but he gently tugged your hair.

"Eyes on me." He said.

You looked up, mouth still wrapped around him, and the look on his face nearly made you melt, like he was barely holding himself together.

You took him deeper, relaxing your jaw, tongue pressing along the underside of his shaft. His hips jerked slightly, and this time he didn't hold back. His hand fisted in your hair and you could feel the shift in him, the restraint slipping, the patience wearing thin.

He looked down at you, eyes dark, lips parted breathing hard. "So eager now, huh? Acted all shy a minute ago, now you're drooling on my cock."

Your hand worked what your mouth couldn't reach, pace growing rougher.

"Look at you— on your knees. You love this, you love being used."

You whimpered, and he groaned low in his chest, tightening his grip in your hair. "That's it. Take it, fucking take it."

He began thrusting into your mouth with more force now. Your eyes watered, throat flexing around him as he pushed deeper, only to pull back and do it again.

"You feel so fucking good." He groaned. "You gonna let me finish in that pretty little mouth?"

You nodded the best you could, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as spit slicked your chin. He was getting close—you could feel it in the desperate sounds spilling from his lips.

"Keep going— don't stop." He muttered, thrusts erratic now.

Then his grip locked in your hair, his whole body tensed, and with a whimper, he came. You felt the heat of it hit the back of your throat, his hand holding you down just a moment longer as he rode it out, panting hard.

When he finally released you, you pulled back slowly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

He looked completely wrecked— head thrown back, chest rising and falling fast, shirt pulled up halfway up his torso.

"You good?" He asked, eyes heavy lidded,

voice hoarse as he looked down at you breathless.

"Yeah, yeah." You said, catching your breath and clearing your throat, trying to steady yourself.

"C'mon, let's go upstairs." He mumbled, pulling his pants back up.

You followed him up, still in your oversized tee and shorts. You honestly thought he'd pull you right back into something the second the door shut behind you, but instead he headed straight for his desk, settling into his chair like nothing happened, opening his laptop.

You blinked, taking in the room, on his dresser sat a vase full of vivid red roses.

"These are pretty." You said, walking over to get a closer look, fingertips brushing the soft petals.

He turned just slightly, glancing over his shoulder. "Yeah, they were for you." He said casually, shrugging as he turned back to the screen. "But I thought you were gonna ditch me tonight, so I just put them up."

Your brows raised slightly, caught off guard. "Were they really?" You asked, warmth creeping up your cheeks despite yourself.

"Yeah." He said, a soft chuckle leaving him. "I don't like roses."

Before you could say anything else, he stood from his chair and walked over, motioning to the desk. "Here you go. Sorry if downstairs is a distraction, but I mean it's something, right?"

"What do you mean?" You asked, eyes narrowing in curiosity.

"You can work on your project." He said, motioning lazily to the setup. "It's online, I assumed, so just use my stuff to get what you need done."

"Wait, actually?" You asked, genuinely surprised.

"Yeah, no trouble at all. Do what you need to do. I'll just text you the user and password just in case and yeah, I'll be downstairs."

You watched him move to the door. "So you don't want me to just leave?"

"No." He replied. "Just work here. I might need you later."

"Oh, I see." You muttered with a small smirk.

"Well, I'll be downstairs if you need me." He said, then disappeared into the hallway.

You settled at the desk with a sigh, opening tabs, pulling up sources, your fingers flying over the keyboard as you got to work. Two hours passed before you even looked up again, then the door creaked open.

"Hey." Came a slurred voice behind you.

You turned around, catching Haechan stumbling slightly into the room. His shirt was wrinkled, hair messy, and his hand was wrapped around a red Solo cup.

"Hi." You said, standing instinctively, walking over to him, noticing how he swayed as he walked.

"I brought this for you." He said, holding out the cup proudly.

"Thanks." You replied with a cautious smile, taking it from him. You gave it a sniff and got immediately hit with the sharp burn of straight liquor. "Nothing more I love than a few shots of liquor to help me work."

He let out a loose giggle, clearly noting the sarcasm in your tone. "It stimulates the mind." He slurred.

"How much have you had, Haechan?" You asked, leading him carefully toward the bed.

"I dunno." He answered, grinning up at you with heavy eyes as he sank into the mattress.

"Ok, time to close your eyes and rest for a little." You said gently, brushing his hair back from his forehead.

"No, no, I'm good. I just came to check on you." He insisted, trying to sit up again. "I'm going to go drink."

He stood too fast, stumbling before falling right back into bed with a thud.

"Yeah, okay." You said with a small laugh, returning to the chair and the warm glow of the computer screen.

"Y/n." He called out suddenly from where he laid.

"Yes, Haechan." You replied, still typing.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead." You said, smiling slightly to yourself, already expecting something ridiculous.

"You don't, like— really like me? Like, actually like me, right?"

You paused, your fingers hovered over the keys.

Your chest tightened, air catching slightly in your throat. Of course you did, you liked him more than you wanted to admit, more than you could justify. And yet he made it so difficult— treating you like an afterthought one second and the only thing that mattered the next.

"Why?" You asked instead, turning slowly in your chair with a small, tired smile that didn't quite reach your eyes.

He sighed. "I dunno. They're all just like... making fun of me. Like, all my friends and stuff."

You frowned, turning back to the computer. "Is that so."

"Yeah, and—" He started, then just laughed quietly. "Can we kiss?"

You turned around again, rising to your feet and walking toward him. You leaned down, placing a soft peck on his lips.

You turned to leave again, but he reached out. "Wait. Can you lay with me, please?"

You paused, heart caught somewhere between affection and fatigue. "Ok, but promise you'll close your eyes and not speak if I do."

"I promise." He mumbled.

You shook your head with a smile, slipping under the covers. He wasted no time pulling you in, chest to chest, his arms wrapping snugly around your waist, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

You ran your fingers slowly through his hair, holding him.

"You know—" He began.

"Haechan, shh." You whispered, eyes still closed.

"Sorry." He mumbled, and after that everything became silent.

His breathing slowed, and he finally drifted off, but you couldn't, not even with your eyes closed.

Your mind was a storm of questions, of feelings, of why he said things like that if he didn't mean them, why he pushed and pulled, how he looked at you like you mattered and then dropped you like you didn't.

You laid there for what felt like hours, the hum of the party now distant, muffled by the door. Then you heard footsteps, voices— a knock.

"Haechan, it's us. We're coming in to make sure you're not dead... stop us at any time if you don't want us to come in."

You were about to speak, about to let them know he was ok, but he was finally asleep and for once he looked peaceful. So you stayed quiet, eyes closed, pretending.

The door opened, laughter spilling in before it abruptly quieted.

"They fucking?" One of them asked, then a pause. "Wait, no. They're asleep."

"Haechan is in here cuddled up, what the fuck." Another voice muttered.

Then there was a second of silence and another voice broke through.

"Dude... he's so in love."

"Something like that." Another chimed in with a giggle.

And though your eyes stayed shut, your chest clenched tightly.

They left soon after, their laughter retreating down the hall, swallowed again by the hum of music and distant shouting from downstairs, but that one sentence didn't leave with them.

"Dude... he's so in love."

You laid still, your body locked in place, his arm still draped over your waist like it belonged there. Like it always belonged there, like he wasn't drunk and asking if you liked him just an hour ago, like he wasn't someone who made you question every other word he said, then undid you completely with a single glance.

Love.

They said it so casually, so easily. Like they knew something you didn't or maybe, something you were too scared to believe.

Your hand still rested in his hair, your fingers curled gently around the strands, and you debated pulling away, getting up, putting distance between your body, but you didn't. Because some part of you wanted to hold onto it, to him, even if it hurt.

Because that's what he always did to you, wasn't it?

He gave you just enough to keep you there. Just enough softness to believe he cared, but never quite enough to settle into.

You tried to tell yourself the alcohol was talking. That none of this was real, that tomorrow he'd wake up and probably tease you for cuddling him or pretend he didn't remember half the things he said.

Maybe he loved you in a way he couldn't say sober, maybe he only knew how to want you in pieces, maybe this was what love looked like to someone like him and maybe it was enough for someone like you.

You let your eyes close, pressing your cheek into the pillow. Not to sleep— your mind wouldn't let you, but just to stay still. To pretend for a second that it didn't matter, that you didn't care so much, but you did.

God, you did.

And somewhere inside you, the truth was slowly blooming like those roses on his dresser.

The room was still dark when your eyes opened. That hazy blue hour just before dawn crept faintly through the window.

Your body ached slightly from how you'd slept— curled against him, one of his arms slung heavy around your waist. You could feel his breath, slow and warm against your shoulder.

It almost made you forget everything... almost.

You shifted slightly, trying not to wake him. Just enough to stretch your legs or maybe find a less tangled position, but he moved almost immediately. His eyes fluttered open in a daze, and then widened slightly when he realized how close you still were.

He pulled back fast.

"Shit." He muttered, untangling his limbs from yours, sitting up and running a hand through his hair, still foggy, but clearly panicked.

"Sorry." You said quietly, sitting up too, pulling the blanket around you a little. "I didn't mean to wake you, I was just trying to stretch. Are you ok? You were really messed up last night."

His eyes flicked to you, but didn't linger. "I want to be alone." He said flatly.

You blinked. "It's really early." You said, voice soft. "I can just go sit at the desk or—"

"I don't care." He snapped, sharper now. "Just go."

It hit harder than you expected, the shift, the chill, the coldness where warmth had been hours ago.

You nodded slowly, swallowing whatever emotion was threatening to rise and stood. "Okay."

You barely made it to the door before his voice called out again."Get the fucking flowers."

You paused, turning slowly. "What?"

"I don't want them here." He said without looking at you.

Your eyes flicked to the dresser, the roses still blooming in the soft light.

"What about the vase?"

He exhaled through his nose, not quite a scoff, but close. "Take it." He said, his voice emotionless. "Just— take it. Get out."

You stared at him for a moment longer, trying to understand what just happened, trying not to let it show on your face, but you just nodded.

You walked back across the room, lifted the vase and left without another word.

The hallway was cold.

You hadn't realized how warm his room had been until you stepped out, vase clutched to your chest. The roses swayed slightly as you walked.

You moved down the stairs where empty cups and crumpled napkins were scattered, your fingers curled tighter around the glass. You didn't know why you took it— why you didn't just leave them there, why you obeyed so easily, like some part of you was still waiting for him to call you back again, but the silence behind you stayed silent.

You stepped outside, the early morning air hit your skin, you took a deep breath, walking to your car, placing the flowers beside you.

He held you like he wanted you, kissed you like he needed you, talked to you like he trusted you, asked you if you liked him, pulled you close and made you believe maybe just for a second it was real.

And then he told you to get out.

You swallowed hard, jaw clenching to keep the sting from reaching your eyes. You hated this part of yourself. The part that showed up every time he called, the part that wanted to believe his words even after his actions said something else, the part that still thought the flowers might mean something— even now, when he couldn't stand the sight of them.

You looked over at them, beautiful and unwanted— just like you.

You blinked away the blur in your vision, taking another slow breath. Then you started your car and drove away. Because what else could you do?

══════════════════════════

He was the only thing flowing through your mind.

You tried not to think about him, tried to focus on your projects for the next week, tried to drown your thoughts in deadlines, but during those quiet blind spots— when your hands paused on the keyboard, when your gaze drifted away from the screen, it was only him.

It didn't matter how hard you tried, he always found a way in.

Your thoughts had gotten the best of you... again. You texted— just a simple 'are you okay?' even after he hurt you, even after everything, but he never answered.

After that, you didn't call, you didn't try. You hadn't even gone to the party and he never called to ask why. It was pretty much over to you and maybe that should've been enough.

You replayed the scene in your head, skimming over every detail you could remember— how he shifted away from you, how his voice went cold, how he didn't even look at you. You tried to fathom what happened, replaying every word, every moment. Was it something you said? Something you did?

You wanted to just leave it. For him, yes, but more for you. For your own dignity, whatever was left of it. You felt embarrassed every time you thought about talking to him again. Embarrassed every time your mind wandered to his touch, his mouth, his company.

It was pathetic... you were pathetic, truly.

You were sitting in your bed, mind floating everywhere except the subject in front of you, while your fingers moved absently across the keyboard, then your phone rang.

You sighed, expecting it to be one of your roommates, maybe a spam caller, but it was him— Haechan, of course it was.

Of course he was calling after kicking you out. After ignoring your message when you were just checking in. Of course it was so easy for him to reach out after all this time. Or... maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was just as hard for him as it was for you. But you weren't the one scared to look like a loser. Either way, it was stupid.

Ignore it. Ignore it. Ignore it.

Your heart said, or maybe your mind. You weren't sure anymore, but you didn't listen.

To yourself, obviously. Not the call.

That— you picked up a little too fast. Like nothing even mattered anymore except him and maybe it was the case, and you hated that. You hated it so bad, but you couldn't change it, no matter how hard you tried, it was like a curse.

"Hello." You said quietly.

"Come over." His voice was hoarse.

You didn't fight it, you didn't ask why he hadn't reached out, didn't beg for an explanation or an apology.

"Like... right now?" You asked, voice catching slightly.

"Yes." That was it.

You looked at the date and time glowing on your computer screen: Saturday, 7:38 PM.

Your eyes flicked up to the file you were working on. Book report, due in three weeks. You had maybe 30 out of 75 pages done and barely the energy to finish another sentence.

You bit your lip in hesitation, then took a deep breath.

"Okay." You said quietly. "I'll be there in a few minutes."

He said nothing back, just hung up.

You got up immediately, grabbing your keys. The drive was quiet, your mind raced, heart even faster. When you got there, you knocked on the door and waited.

After a few seconds, it opened.

There he was, hair messy, eyes dark and unreadable.

"Hey." You said, offering a small smile, but he didn't say anything. He just stepped aside, letting you in, the door shutting behind you with a soft click.

Weird.

He walked to the kitchen without a word, pulling open the fridge and grabbing a drink, not even offering you one. You just stood there awkwardly, while he leaned against the island— probably the cleanest you'd ever seen it, his palms flat on the surface.

"You know..." He started, clearing his throat, still not looking at you. "Someone sent me a photo."

Your brows furrowed, confused. "What was it?"

"You." He finally looked at you then, and the look in his eyes made your stomach twist, like he was holding back something.

"A photo of me?" You asked with a nervous laugh. "Okay... what was it?"

He chuckled, but it was flat, empty. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, scrolled, and placed it on the counter without a word.

You moved slowly toward it, his gaze heavy on you as your eyes landed on the screen.

You froze. Your heart dropped straight to your stomach.

"Where— where did you get this?" You stammered, voice shaky.

"I'm assuming this was last year? At your old uni, right?" He said, tone thick with something you couldn't name— disgust, betrayal... maybe both?

"I— how did you get this?" You said again, voice trembling, lip starting to quiver.

"I didn't know you were a hardcore partier like that." He said, smile curling bitterly. "No wonder you can handle liquor like it's water."

He looked back down at the photo. "Did you lie about taking drugs too? Or was it actually your first time smoking weed? Cause... looks like you did other shit."

You stared at him, eyes starting to water.

You never forgot about your past, even though you tried. You thought you got away from it, left it behind, but now it was back. Slapped into your hands by someone who had already hurt you. Who was now throwing it all in your face like you deserved it.

"Who's this?" His voice cut through your spiral.

You didn't even have to look, you already knew who he was pointing at— the guy in the photo. The one with his arm around your waist, the one you were kissing.

"Someone I used to talk to." You said quietly, the most coherent thing you could get out.

"Oh, really?" He said, his voice filled with sarcasm.

"Why do you even care so much?" You blurted out, your voice cracking now, barely holding it together. "You don't even want me."

He paused, looking straight at you. "That's my fucking brother."

Everything in you went still, cold. Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

"Yeah." He said, tilting his head, expression dark. "Nothing to say now, huh? What the fuck is actually wrong with you? Do you even know what you did to him?"

"It was a mistake." You said, voice breaking. "I didn't mean to hurt him, I swear. I didn't do anything on purpose."

"You didn't mean to?" He repeated, louder now. "You didn't do anything on purpose? You took everything from him. Got him addicted to pills, addicted to you, and then what— just left? Like he meant nothing? He had to go to rehab, he almost died and it was just a mistake?"

"I'm— I'm sorry." You whispered, the words trembling out of you.

"Right." He scoffed. "Like that's gonna fix anything. He really liked you, you know. You were all he knew, all he loved and you just left him for dead."

Your throat was dry. You couldn't defend yourself, not really. You'd done things you weren't proud of.. hurt people and now it was all crashing back.

"So what now?" He said. "You thought you could play me too? What, did my sister do something to you, so now it's 'get back at the family one by one'?"

"No. No, I swear." You said quickly, stepping forward. "That's not what this is. I'm not playing with you."

He laughed bitterly. "Then what is this? You're a fucking hypocrite. You preach to me about commitment and what was it— self sabotage? But you can't even follow your own bullshit."

"I can now, I'm not that person anymore. I was just in a dark place, and I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I didn't care who I took down with me because I didn't even care about myself."

You stepped closer, eyes shining, voice shaking. "I'm not lying to you. You've seen it, you've seen how much I care. How much I need you."

"Yeah?" He questioned,voice low.

You were standing in front of him now, your hand reaching up to his cheek, gently touching him like you were scared he'd disappear.

He didn't pull away.

You whispered. "Please."

His breathing changed, slower. Like he was holding something in his chest he didn't know what to do with. His eyes searched yours, the space between the both of you had shrunk. And the way his jaw tensed, the way his hands gripped the edge of the counter like they needed to hold onto something— like they needed to hold onto you.

You could feel it, like the only thing left to do was move closer, or burn from standing still.

Something snapped.

He grabbed you suddenly, dragging you into him by the waist, his mouth crashing onto yours like punishment. It was messy, angry. His hands were already tugging your clothes down, fingers digging in like he wanted to rip right through the fabric. Your underwear was shoved down before you could catch your breath, and his pants were already halfway undone.

You gasped as he turned you around, chest slammed against the counter, your hands barely catching yourself. Before you could fully process it, he kicked your legs open wider with his knee as one hand shot up and wrapped tightly around your throat, fingers digging in just enough to pull your head back against his chest, your spine arching slightly under the pressure.

"If you want a condom, go to my car and get one." He whispered, voice low and rough.

You froze for a second, breath shuddering as his hand tightened slightly. Then, swallowing hard, you shook your head slowly.

"I'm fine." You murmured, voice barely audible.

"Pathetic."

Without warning, he pulled your hips back, lining himself up with your entrance, before pushing in all the way. A loud, sharp cry came from your lips as the sudden stretch overwhelmed you.

He didn't slow down or wait— just started thrusting hard and fast, pounding into you relentlessly, ignoring every sound you made.

He slammed into you harder, his hand tightening around your throat, fingers pressing cruelly against your skin, cutting off your air just enough to make your heart race.

"Look at you." He panted, voice dark. "Pathetic little slut, can't even handle something simple like this."

You gasped, the pressure in your throat making it hard to speak, but the pounding pushed deeper inside, and slowly your body started to adjust to him.

His thrusts grew harder, like he was losing himself in the moment, hips snapping into yours faster and heavier. His grip loosened for a brief second, fingers brushing your skin almost tenderly before tightening again.

You moaned louder, the pain fading as your body started to catch up with him, heat pooling deep inside.

His pace turned harder hips slamming into you with no rhythm now, just need. The hand around your throat suddenly released, only to tangle in your hair and yank your head back hard.

You cried out, not just from the pull but from everything— your body shaking, tears slipping down your cheeks without you even realizing.

He noticed, laughing slightly. "Pathetic. Can't even take it, crying like a little bitch."

His grip in your hair tightened as he drove into you even harder. "But you like it, don't you?" He snarled, voice louder now, strained with how close he was. "This is what you wanted."

"Yes." You gasped, breath hitching around a sob, your body arching into his with every rough thrust.

His breaths grew loud and uneven, voice breaking into low groans and occasional whimpers, like he was falling apart right behind you.

He let go of your hair suddenly, and your upper body collapsed forward, your chest pressing flat against the counter. Both of his hands clamped down hard on your hips, holding you in place as he drove into you deeper.

His fingers dug into your skin as his body started to tense, his thrusts becoming sloppy, the sound of his low whimpers mixing with your own moans.

"You're— fuck, so tight..." He choked out, voice cracking as he buried himself in you again and again.

His pace turned erratic, hips jerking forward like he couldn't stop himself, like his body had taken over.

His grip on your hips bruised, pulling you back into every thrust like he was trying to bury himself as deep as possible. His whole body trembled, his moans turning into whimpers.

You just moaned out softly beneath him as he lost it— hips jerking erratically now, hands clutching you like you'd disappear if he let go.

"Shit." He gasped, voice wrecked. "You feel so— fuck."

His whole body tightened, shuddering as he came hard inside you with a strained whimper.

He stayed still for a second, shaking, breath caught in his throat, still pulsing inside you.

You were right there— right on the edge, body tense and desperate, but then he pulled out suddenly and stepped back.

He laughed, low and cruel, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Aw, were you about to cum?" He said, mocking, breath still heavy. He pulled up his pants, voice cold again. "Too bad." He said before walking up the stairs with heavy steps, no backward glance.

You sat still for a moment, breath shallow, skin still warm from his touch, heart trying to piece together what this meant—if it meant anything at all.

Your eyes wandered, trying to find a single object in the room that would ground you. You stared at everything blankly, waiting. Maybe for him to come back and say something soft, something honest... anything at all.

Eventually, he did come back, but it wasn't what you expected.

His steps were quieter this time. No eye contact, no sigh, no hesitation, just a folded fifty dollar bill that he slipped into your hand like it was a transaction. Like this was something to close out, something to be done with.

"For the plan B." He muttered, eyes flicking to the side, avoiding your expression. "And for you to not say anything else. To just... just go."

You held the cash loosely in your fingers silent. The room blurred for a second, vision not quite focusing, but your body still moved on autopilot. You nodded quietly, not bothering to fix your hair or wipe your face.

You didn't cry, not yet. You didn't ask questions, you didn't fight, you didn't even look back.

You just left, the door clicking shut behind you.

The streets were quieter than usual for a Saturday night or maybe you just weren't really listening. Maybe the noise had dimmed around you, your mind doing that thing where it zooms out, pulls away from everything like it doesn't belong to you.

You drove to your favorite spot. That shitty little corner diner that stayed open late and never judged you for showing up in sweatpants or smeared mascara. You walked in and ordered the usual without thinking.

"Chicken tenders, fries, extra honey mustard." You said, voice small, like you were 12 again and just needed something familiar.

The cashier didn't smile, just nodded and took the crumpled bill from your hand— the same one he gave you.

You sat by the window with your tray, staring out at the parking lot as yellow lights buzzed.

You dipped a fry into the honey mustard, then stared at it before finally taking a bite. You weren't really hungry, not truly, but chewing helped. It gave your mind something else to do besides replaying what happened. What he said, the look on his face when he gave you the money.

You didn't even need the money for a morning after pill. You been on birth control for your periods for months now.

You thought about how it all started. How much you tried to bury the past, how much effort you made to grow, to become someone better. You weren't perfect— god, you knew that, but you were trying. You been trying, you wanted him to see that, you wanted him to see you.

But maybe he never really did.

You sat there for a while, eating slowly, the food growing cold on the tray in front of you.

══════════════════════════

You were sitting at home a few days later, just working, thinking, trying hard not to think.

$60 for a Plan B and for you "not to say anything else and just go" what the fuck.

Your phone buzzed, not a call, just a text.

Haechan [10:39 PM]:

"U home?"

Literally— what the fuck.

You were confused, stuck, you just wanted clarity, something solid, something that would tell you where his mind was, where his heart was. You were too scared to ask, too scared you'd scare him away if you pressed too hard. But this? This was getting ridiculous.

You [10:42 PM]:

"Why?"

You texted back. Okay, yeah. Maybe not the hardest stance you could've taken, but this was your definition of standing on business. Who were you kidding? You couldn't even ignore the text for more than five minutes.

Luckily, he didn't answer. Maybe that was your answer— the real one. Maybe silence told you where you stood with him more than anything else. But then again, his actions said something different. The way he held you, the way he looked at you sometimes. You couldn't help but feel like he did care, like maybe he loved you even just a little.

Or was that just you projecting? Was this your idea of love? Was this what you were settling for— and if it was, did that mean this was what you were worth? Because honestly, it didn't feel like it. But then... sometimes it did.

Right before your thoughts spiraled any further, three shallow knocks hit your door. Your expression twisted slightly, confusion brushing over your face. You stood up from your bed, slowly making your way to the front door, opening it. Of course... there he was.

You just sighed.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

He didn't answer right away, just looked over your shoulder into the room. "Your roommate's home?"

"No, one's gone for the weekend, and the other's out with her boyfriend. Why?"

"Can I come inside?"

"Why? Don't you hate me?"

He just chuckled soft and dryly, then silence. He didn't answer, and neither did you, you just stepped aside and let him in. He moved past you, settling on the couch as you shut the door gently, walking over slowly.

"Tell me everything." He said, turning to look at you. "From your side."

You didn't have to ask what he meant, you already knew.

"Well.." You started, taking a deep breath. "I was doing fine before. I had friends here, I was making straight A's— it was never really hard for me. Then my mom died, and that took a big toll on me."

"Where's your dad?" He asked.

"Hell if I know." You looked up at him. He just nodded in response, saying nothing.

"So, yeah, I was alone. I had people— my best friend since childhood actually, but I still felt so lonely. So I decided to take a break from here and just leave. I went to school in a different state."

You paused, gathering the words that still sat heavy in your chest. "It started off fine, I mean as fine as it was gonna get, but then my best friend started getting distant. He always cared for me, but he started doing his own thing— making new friends and everything. It hurt because I needed him... I loved him."

"You loved him?" Haechan asked, brows slightly furrowed.

"Yeah, a lot. I, um... he came to visit me early on when I moved, and I told him how I felt, but he rejected me— told me he just wanted to mess around with people and not be locked down. And yeah, that hurt... like a lot. I guess I thought he felt the same... he acted like it. And when he started ignoring me after that? That's what really messed me up."

You looked down at your hands as you kept going, your voice quiet, but steady. "So I ended up making new friends. Not great ones. I started partying, trying to fill this empty void in my life. Got addicted to the lifestyle. One party, someone offered me weed, and that was a big no for me because — duh." You let out a small, self deprecating laugh.

"But then they introduced me to pills. That felt different, not the same thing as weed in my head, so I did it. I drank, I did drugs, barely went to class, but when I did..."

You paused, tilting your head back, staring at the ceiling. "It just seemed like he was always waiting for me, like he was the only one who didn't judge."

"My brother." Haechan said quietly.

You nodded. "He was obsessed with me. Like I was the most precious thing in the world— no offense to him." You looked up, waving your hands a bit.

"I was just... confused, confused why. He didn't even know me, but he kept trying, and I was at my lowest.. at a point where I felt like no one else wanted me, not even my best friend— so I gave in. We texted. I wasn't always great at responding, I was always out doing shit, complete opposite of him. He was smart, focused, kind and I was basically nothing. But even then, he still wanted me, so much that he started doing what I was doing and I didn't think anything of it. Just another guy to me. No offense... again."

Haechan chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "Just finish."

"He started partying, harder than I did even. Started drinking like me, taking the pills I took and honestly, it was fun. He made me feel like I wasn't the only one who was falling apart. Like we were nothing together." You shook your head slowly.

"It's so messed up, but I didn't know better. Stuff happened between us. Not sex!" You blurted out. "I'm... well, was saving myself. And yeah, I liked him a bit. He felt like commitment, like the only one I could count on to stay."

You exhaled, the weight of your own memories thick in your throat.

"Then my best friend just... came back. Completely out of nowhere, acting like I was the world to him. Telling me to stop doing drugs. I don't know what changed, maybe he was scared I wouldn't come back for summer. Which, I really wasn't going to. But he asked me to visit at least, just at the beginning of the summer and I agreed."

You kept going, not pausing now, just unraveling it all.

"So I went back home, stayed with him. Then he tried to do some rehabilitation bullshit on me or whatever. Told me he'd help me change, and would 'fix' me. I was hysterical. I felt betrayed. He left me, I got like this, and now he wanted to act like I was a project. Like I was just some druggie or party whore who needed saving, which I guess I was." You laughed softly, sadly.

"I told him I had someone who cared about me— someone who loved me, but he said it wasn't love. That I needed to focus on myself, not a boyfriend, and I believed him. I cried in his arms and I stayed. I got sober, started fresh over for the summer. Then... he begged me to just stay permanently, said he wanted to keep an eye on me, make sure I was okay."

You looked at Haechan then, eyes softer now. "So I did. I told my best friend I needed to explain to your brother what was going on, that I wanted to stay in contact. But he told me to leave the past behind, that he'd just get over it. So I left, no reason, no goodbye, just silence. I had no idea what happened to him after. That he got addicted, that he went to rehab, I just assumed he'd move on too. I tried to reach out again at the beginning of this year, but I was blocked, rightfully so."

You looked at each other, silence.

"Is that why you're still with me?" He asked, voice quiet. "You get treated like shit, but you know I care enough. You feel guilt... so you allow it, right?"

His voice cracked slightly. "Is it guilt?"

You looked away, eyes trailing up toward the ceiling. You bit your lip hard before turning your gaze back to him.

"I really do love you." You said, voice almost a whisper, eyes glossy. "Is that all you wanted to hear?"

He nodded, once. "Yeah." He said softly.

Silence again, but not empty. The moonlight shined through the blinds, his eyes glinting the reflection as you two stared at each other.

Then slowly, he leaned in. His hand reached up, gentle against your cheek, thumb brushing the side of your face like he was afraid you would flinch.

It wasn't rushed, it wasn't desperate, it was soft— slower than either of you expected. You kissed him back, just as slow, just as quiet, your hand curling slightly into the fabric of his shirt.

When he pulled away, he stayed there for a moment. His forehead nearly touching yours, his breath warm, eyes glassy.

He cleared his throat, scooting back slightly. "I should probably get going." He said, voice low.

"Yeah." You nodded.

"Okay, I'm about to leave." He said, not moving an inch.

"Got it." You smiled a little, lips still tingling.

"Right now." He said again, like he needed to convince himself.

You leaned in, giving him one last kiss, just a soft peck, but it lingered.

"Go." You whispered against his lips.

He finally stood, walking to the door, you following behind him.

"If you get the chance, would you tell him to unblock me?" You asked, voice low but sincere as he reached for the doorknob. "I really want the chance to apologize... check on him personally."

He paused, his hand still on the door, then he turned just slightly, glancing back at you over his shoulder.

He gave a small nod. "Yeah." Then after a moment, quieter: "Just... call me or something."

You let out a tired chuckle, shaking your head gently, a half smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

"Yeah." You whispered, more to yourself than to him.

And then you closed the door behind him, the soft click echoing in the quiet room.

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#nct x reader #nct smut #nct #nct dream #nct dream smut #nct dream x reader #nct fic #nct haechan smut #nct dream haechan smut #haechan angst #nct dream haechan #haechan x reader #haechan smut #nct haechan #haechan #nct dream angst

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stylesispunk · 2 days ago

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"Whatever you'd like us to be" | part 5

harry castillo (materialists) x fem!sunshine reader

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

Summary: The one where you break all the rules and became lovers.

w.c: 5,6k (shortie because i haven't felt good)

warnings: age gap (harry is 45 and reader 29-30) fluff, smut (terrible because I don't know how to write smut) no proofreading.

A/N: First of all. Lower your expectations about this chapter. This is what I call a "filler" chapter, but it also changes the characters' dynamic. This story was supposed to be a mini series, and I made the mistake of becoming a people pleaser, and now I don't know what I'm doing. I hope you like this chapter, though, and PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU GOT THE HINT AT THE END OF THE CHAPTER.

AO3 account, where I'm also posting the chapters.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

You didn’t even notice you had made to Harry’s apartment. You felt like you were on cloud nine, lost in the scent of her perfume and the taste of her kisses. You didn't notice when Harry opened the door without moving his lips from yours, taking the time to explore your figure. Every curve, every inch, delicately and passionately, sending out sensations you no longer remembered feeling.

Harry pulled away for a moment, his breath ragged, eyes dark and soft at the same time. His thumb caressed over your bottom lip, swollen from all his kisses.

“I’ve wanted this,” he whispered, voice low and rough as his hand cupped your face and the other grabbed your neck, “Ever since I met you.” He kissed your lips, “But all you wanted were French fries” he smiled against your lips.

You smiled back at him, stealing pecks at his lips, not being able to find the words. Your heart spoke for yourself, in the way your fire raising throughout your body, in the way your hands gripped the fabric of his shirt.

His apartment was gloomy, guiding you further, without breaking the kisses as his hands kept roaming at your body, memorizing every inch of it. Tasting every single second of this.

“You have no idea,” Harry whispered against your skin, lips ghosting along your jaw, “what you do to me. The way you look at me… the way you always see through me.”

You melted under his touch, warmth blooming in places you’d forgotten could feel like this.

He pressed a lingering kiss to your throat before pulling back just enough to meet your eyes again, searching them, asking for the answer you gave without hesitation.

In a swift motion, his big hands slid down your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. As soft gasp escaped from your lips, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling his face closer to your as you placed your arms around his neck, as if even gravity couldn’t keep you apart.

Harry’s lips crashed back onto yours, all heat and hunger and tenderness in equal balance. He kissed you like a man starving for something beyond the desire, but for a feeling, for something that felt real and made his heart beat faster against his chest that even you could feel it, both beating in a perfect rhythm.

His fingertips dug into your skin just enough to make you feel claimed, wanted, adored and loved. The way he wanted to claimed you wasn’t rapid and short. He wanted to take his time to pour every feeling you had made him feel ever since he had met you.

So, when he reached the bedroom, he set you down over the bed slowly, carefully as you were a crystal he must protect.

He leaned over you, bracing himself on his forearms, his forehead pressed to yours as his lips curved into the softest, most breathtaking smile you’d ever seen.

“I want everything with you,” he whispered, his voice frayed with emotion. “Not just tonight. From now on, I want everything.”

You reached up, your fingers tangling into the hair at the nape of his neck, and you leaned in, closing the breath of space between you. Your lips met his in a kiss that was softer this time, not rushed, but still claiming desire for him.

Harry let out a quiet, broken sound against your mouth, like the feeling of you underneath him, kissing him like that, was striping him bare in front of you, allowing you to see what he had tried to hid beneath the surface of power. His hand slid up the side of your body, placing his palm over your ribs like he needed to anchor himself to this feeling.

He hovered above you, one arm braced beside your head, his thumb brushing your cheek as the kiss deepened, the thing was that when you were about to feel the person your love this way, all you could feel was a sort of peace and fire settling all over at once.

You pulled back again, lips barely agape, your noses still touching, as his eyes searched for a sing of regret inside yours, but there was nothing, just love and a softness he hadn’t come to face when someone had looked at him.

“I don’t want to stop kissing you,” you said, smiling as the vibration of your voice brushed against his lips.

He smiled then because it seemed to be clear that you were going to be his beginning and his ending at once.

His eyes locked with yours, asking a question without uttering a word. You gave the slightest nod he needed to lean in and kiss you again, slower this time, unhurried, like he was tasting your lips every second as he intended to do until the end of the times.

His hands moved to the hem of your blouse, his fingers brushing against your skin, and the he paused for a second, his gaze meeting yours once more for permission. You reached for his wrist, guiding his hand higher, and that was all it took for him to give up. Piece by piece, he started to undress you, as if it was a privilege, he was the only one able to have. His fingers traced every inch of skin displaying before his eyes, his lips following in, placing kisses everywhere he could. Every touch, every sigh leaving his lips felt like a promise you were making with each other, making your breath hitch.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispered, as if it physically hurt him no to remind you of it every second.

You reached for him, your fingers tugging at the fabric of his shirt, eager to feel his skin against yours, to close the space that had been settled between the both of you. He helped you, shedding the last pieces of clothing between you both.

Harry’s lips returned to yours, stealing kisses from you before starting low his path down the curve of your neck. His hands framed your face for a moment like he couldn’t believe you were real, then drifted lower, his mouth following the trail down across your collarbone, the heat of his breath against your skin sent shivers down your spine, making you squirm beneath his touch. Each kiss poured apologies for every moment he hadn’t said what he meant, as the same time as he promised he would be there. His hands spread across your waist, holding you steady, grounding you under his frame.

When his lips brushed the top of your chest, he glanced up at you, his eyes heavy-lidded and softer, making sure you wanted this as much as him. You reached for him, threading your fingers through his hair, and the way his mouth curved against your bare chest.

“I could spend all my life here,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low, kissing all over your breasts.

He looked up again, one of his curls falling into his forehead, there was something almost shy there, as if this mattered more than anything else had before for him. As if this wasn’t about him filling his own desires, but about finally finding a place he belonged to.

“You’re beautiful,” Harry reassured, “Not just tonight but always.”

Your throat tightened, your hand cupping his cheek, your thumb brushing over his lips. He kissed the inside of your palm, then leaned in again, his mouth finding yours in a sealing kiss, grabbing your breasts with both of your hands, as he pressed kisses down your neck all over again.

Your eyes rolled as you moved your neck to give him access to every inch of your skin, you claim it with his lips as you lay there. The warmth of your uneven breaths mingled, enveloping you both as he quickly as you curled your fingers in his hair as he kissed you all over your body for the first time. You could sense the emotions, but the intimacy and lust were like a fire in your core.

How long had taken you too feel this desired and loved again?

Harry raised his head to kiss you once again, slipping his tongue past your lips and gasping as he felt your fingers trace the lines of a map to the spot where you couldn't stop on his bare chest.

With one of your hands, you pulled him down by his neck to hold him against your lips. Once you tasted them, you couldn’t get over the taste of them over yours, and you couldn’t get over the whimpers he left in your mouth for you to devour.

You wanted to follow the route of his hands even though you knew it would go to a dangerous place, and the smell of his palms on your tights just intensified the sparks where you most wanted him.

And he wanted to worship your body and devour every whimper coming out of your mouth, so you kept kissing softly while he stroked your thighs. He nipped your skin between his teeth as he kissed you down over your neck.

He loved the way you were making him feel. Right now, motivated by the hunger and feelings you exchanged for one another. He was drawn by the simple fact that you weren't rushing. He wanted to meet where religion was, between your thighs.

You angled your hips up for Harry after feeling his lips against them. You were already dripping as he licked a route from your thigh to your cunt before sucking on your clit and pressing his fingers against you.

You held his head between your legs and whimpered. His cock hardened as the sound from your lips and you clenched around his fingers. He sucked like he was hungry, forcing your legs apart till you had one calf under his shoulder. His free hand moved up your torso, grabbing your breast, as his nose rubbed against your clit. For instinct, you buried your heel into his scalp and dragged him closer until all he could taste was you.

He fucked you slowly, taking his time to taste your wetness on his lips before locking eyes with you. You were flustered, and your eyes shone.

"Oh fuck…Harry, more” you whispered.

"I want all of you, baby," He whispered frantically, moving forward between your legs, pushing your knees up to your breasts, and effortlessly diving into you. With a sigh, you bent over and gave him a kiss. He was on your breasts, trying to touch you all over, while your hands were on the back of his neck. Trying to be as careful as you could, you lifted your hips to fuck up into him as he drove down into you during your kiss.

"Harry, please fuck me," You mumbled into his ear before he reclaimed your lips. He leaned down and sucked your nipples, lightly biting your breasts.

Both of you gasped out loud the second he started to push slowly inside you. His hands reached for yours to interlock them together as he kissed you with softness and lust.

“You’re so beautiful like this” He whispered. He was hypnotized by the way you were nervously laughing as you tossed your head back in pleasure. He bit your neck, causing your hands to follow their way up to his neck and his hands roamed down all of your body without any barrier between the both of you, focusing on every thrust, going deep to make sure he was making you feel good.

You opened your eyes to stare back at him, looking completely drawn and focused on you. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as his hands caressed your breasts as he kept devouring your lips, your back arched followed by a moan against his lips.

Every thrust felt so good you couldn’t help but feel you were in cloud nine. You could feel you were getting close as you squeezed him and you kept your eyes locked on each other. He pushed faster, with one hand caressing your cheek and the other holding your leg to ensure you fell apart.

The noises you made drove him crazy, feeling himself coming to the edge of the cliff. He wanted to look at you under him as you came, and with a loud gasp, it happened and he did it at the same time, falling over your bare chest, with your heartbeats becoming one.

“Give it to me, baby” he encouraged, “I can feel you clenching” he said between thrusts, grinding his cock as deep as into you as it could go as you encouraged him with your moans and nails scratching down his back.

He slid his hand down to your pussy and rubbed along your clit. You fucked yourself harder on him by thrusting back against him right away. “Come on, baby. Give it to me.”

When you came, he whispered something on your neck. You clutched around him and your hips trembled even as he continued to fuck you. Soon after, he began thrusting into you and eventually pulled out while making uneasy gasps in your shoulders. After that, the only sound in the room was the mingling of your breaths.

In the aftermath, the air felt different.

After catching your breath, you both lay there for a moment, listening to the rain falling over the city. Harry's body kept still half-draped over yours, his face buried in the crook of your neck, his breath warm and uneven against your skin. His hand was on your hip, fingers tracing lazy figures where he had just placed kissed over.

You felt his lips press lingering kiss against your collarbone. Then another, making you sigh in joy.

Neither of you had really felt the need to fill the silence consuming. You had spoken through your actions and that was more than enough for now. There were no lies, games. Just the quiet silence that comes with the person you chose.

He propped himself up on his elbow, his curls a mess, his eyes warm as always, darker, meeting a the soft spot on yours.

“Hey,” he murmured.

You gave a tired, content smile. “Hey.”

He brushed your hair from your face, his thumb stroking over your cheek. “Are you okay?”

You reached up and caught his hand, pressing your lips to his palm. “I’m more than perfect now.”

Then, he displayed that crooked, bashful grin tugged in his mouth, the one you’d get used to. He leaned in and kissed you again, slowly, taking his time, like he was still trying to make sense of how this had happened, how you were really here in his bed, in his arms.

How a game had ended up with two lovers meeting the ectasis for the first time.

He placed a kiss on the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, cupping your face with one hand.

“I meant what I said,” Harry murmured, his voice rough. “I want you, now, tomorrow and as long as you want me.”

You smiled, your hand resting over his heart. “Then I’ll stay.”

“Thank you.”

He pulled you against him, pulling the sheets up over both of you. His arms wrapped around your waist; your head tucked beneath his chin. You could feel his heartbeat beneath your palm, steady and sure, grounding you.

Then, you tilted your head, your eyes drifting across the room, the half-drawn curtains, the darkness of it, the soft glow of a lamp on his bedside table and something about it made you smile.

Harry noticed it. They way your eyes roamed all over his room, his place. You felt his body tense just slightly next to you, his breath hitched for a moment, as if something could have change in your mid. He cleared his throat softly, trying to keep his voice casual.

“What?” he asked, his tone light but edged with something wary. His heart hammered in his chest.

What if you regretted this already?

But then you looked back at him, that smile still ghosting at the corners of your lips, tiny and a little mischievous. You reached up, brushing the curl off his forehead.

“We broke rule number two,” you murmured, your voice tender, teasing.

Harry blinked, a beat passing before the meaning landed, and when it did, he laughed, a sound that filled the room and soothed his heart. Relief washed over his features, his smile breaking wide and boyish, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Yeah,” he breathed, cupping your face again like he couldn’t help it. “We did.”

You laughed too; the sound muffled against his shoulder as you snuggled closer. He pressed a kiss on your temple.

“It was a dumb rule anyway,” he murmured into your hair.

“Terrible rule,” you agreed, grinning. “Who even made it?”

He smirked. “Pretty sure it was me.”

You huffed a soft laugh. “Okay, well, revoke it.”

His hand tightened gently at your hip, pulling you impossibly closer. “Of course, I will,” he whispered, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I will show how much I love you everyday from now on.”

Your breath hitched at his words. They were simple, just a promise that could became a void statement, but the way he had said it, it had sounded like a vow or a promised in a room where only truth lived. You pulled back just enough to look at him, your fingertips tracing the line of his jaw, the curve of his lips.

“I’m gonna hold onto that,” you murmured, your voice soft but there was something soft on it.

Harry smiled, again. “Good,” he said, brushing his nose against yours. “Because I want nothing more to stay with you.”

The rain had softened to a gentle patter against the windows, as if weather had known about your love, about how it took to people to walk through storm until meeting daylight, that kind of light that just the correct person could bring to you. The room felt just goo enough, the correct place to stay, like it belonged to you.

You sighed, letting you head fall on his chest against, his hand moving in slow circles along your back. For the first time in so long, you felt like you had found the fairy tale you had been looking for.

And harry too, he was a mand who had never hold onto the empty quotes of love spreading all over the places. He had never learned how to do love, how to find it or how to show it. It wasn’t something that came out easily. It was difficult.

But when he laid his eyes on you and that was enough to make him doubt and think about giving it a chance. He felt drawn. There was something in the way your nose scrunched when you laughed, the way your eyes shone with a special spark never got to see before. How everything about you felt genuine to him to make him feel brave and go to yo.u

And The moment his legs made his way towards your table he still hadn’t figured how to talk to you or how to sit across from you and not feeling amazed by your mere existence.

It was how you made him nervous for the first time.

Then, he got to know you and life became mad, passionate and funnier. A kind of extraordinary love he didn’t know he craved until he met you. The beautiful girl from the wedding who had offered nothing but kindness as freely as the sun offered his light.

That was the place where he wanted to stay at, feeling the warm of the breeze that came with the existence of you. With the warmth of you.

A love that offered calm and peace.

You.

Yes, you. Definitely, you were the one for him.

Morning sunlight spilled softly through the window, catching on the dust motes drifting lazily in the air. Harry stirred, there was a special kind of warm this morning, wrapping around his body. It took him a second to come to his senses and realize that you were there, head on his chest, steadily breathing, and a hand just over his heart.

His heart stuttered for a minute.

You belonged there.

For a long moment, he just stayed there, staring down at you, his chest tight with so many things he didn’t know how to name yet, so many feelings and emotions that were foreign to him. He wanted to imprint this image into his memory, the color of your skin, the way your eyelashes seemed longer, the way your lips parted a bit.

Panic creped in.

Should he get up and surprise you breakfast? or should he stay right here, pretending to sleep so he wouldn’t risk waking you up, just so he could have a few more stolen minutes like this? Would you wake up and think he regretted it? That it hadn’t meant as much to him as it did?

He hated that thought. Hated it so much it made his stomach twist.

The idea of you waking up in an empty bed, of you thinking he’d run, that he didn’t care enough to stay.

So, Harry stayed because he didn’t want to ruin his chance with you.

He stayed still, one hand brushing gently over your hair, watching the way the light kissed your hair. He pressed a tender kiss to your temple. And in that tiny and simple moment, Harry realized he wasn’t afraid of the feeling anymore. He wasn’t afraid of the way you fit against him, and of how right it felt.

He breathed you in, the faintest trace of your perfume clinging to his skin, and closed his eyes for a moment.

Your fingers twitched against his chest, like your body had reacted to him before your mind did. And he smiled, a small, helpless thing, tightening his arm around you just a little.

Harry didn’t move. He didn’t risk breaking whatever this was. He stayed right there, heart beating steady for the first time in years, holding the girl who broke every rule he’d made and somehow made him grateful for it.

And he stayed, because anywhere else felt like home but you.

You stirred a little against his chest, a soft hum left your lips as the warmth of the morning brushed your bare body under the sheets. Harry felt you shift, your hand pressing the skin of his chest as if you were looking its warmth in your sleep.

Then your eyes fluttered open, lashes brushing your cheeks as you blinked up at him, dazed and beautiful in the soft morning. A small, sleepy smile tugged at your lips when you realized where you were, who you were with.

“Hey stranger,” you whispered, your voice still rough with sleep, and it made his chest ache in the most beautiful way.

“Hey you,” he breathed back, his hand brushing your hair from your face. “Sorry. I didn’t want to wake you.”

You gave a lazy stretch and nestled back against him, your head fitting perfectly beneath his chin, you pressed a kiss on his neck, “You didn’t. I could feel you staring though,” you teased, a faint grin in your voice.

Harry laughed softly, the sound low and tender. “Don’t blame me for it. You look beautiful this morning.”

You felt heat rising up to your cheeks, but you didn’t look away, you couldn’t prevent yourself from being perceived this way under the stare of a person who had promised to love you. And there was something about the way he was looking at you now, like you were a rare rose growing up out of ice frozen ground.

“Well,” you murmured, your fingers idly tracing a path on his chest, “I guess you’ll just have to get used to waking up next to me.”

Harry’s smile faltered for a second, not because he didn’t like the idea, but because it weakened him. Completely. The thought of this being the first morning of thousand more, the beginning of the story between you two, made him completely joyful.

“I would be the luckiest man alive,” he whispered, leaning down to press his lips to your forehead, lingering there for a beat longer than necessary. “By the way, I plan on getting very used to it.”

You closed your eyes at the warmth of his kiss, the words wrapping around your heart like someone caressing it with such delicate touch.

“Great,” you whispered, your hand resting over his heart. “Because I want to stay right here.”

Neither of you moved for a long moment, one moment became five minutes and then more, the morning light creeping in brighter now, the city beginning to stir beyond the window. But here, it was still quiet, as the world waited for you both to catch up.

“I was thinking…” Harry started softly, pulling back just enough to look at you again. “Breakfast. In bed. I’ll cook for you.”

You grinned, your stomach fluttering in that way it only did for him. “Okay, but I’ll let you go only if you stay like this for five more minutes.”

He chuckled, settling back with you, pulling the covers higher around you both. “Five more minutes then.” he agreed. “But don’t blame me if it turns into the whole day.”

Like an hour later, you both made it to the dining room instead. Harry insisted of getting up to prepare breakfast by himself, leaving you to rest a bit on his bed for little bit longer. By the time he called you, you appeared on his sight, wearing one of his t-shirts. His heart stopped for bit, beating a little unsteady in the best possible way.

The table was set with two black mugs, a couple of plates with toasts, avocado, fruits and scrambled eggs that looked better than you expected, and a pot of coffee that Harry was absurdly proud of.

You smiled as you took a sip, the warmth spreading through you as you leaned back in your chair, giving him a teasing smile over the rim of your cup.

“Well?” Harry asked, raising his brows as he sat down across from you, watching you, waiting for your verdict.

You set the cup down dramatically on the table and sighed. “It’s actually really good.”

He grinned like you’d just handed him an award. “I told you. There’s no way anyone could make better coffee than me. No one.”

You snorted, shaking your head as you grab a piece of fruit with a fork. “Oh, you’re insufferable. I literally own the café you said you had drunk the best coffee you’d eve had.”

He pointed a fork at you. “Yeah, well, that was before I discovered my hidden talent this morning. Things have changed. The title’s mine now.”

You burst out laughing, the sound filling the space, you felt light and you haven’t in so long. It wasn’t just the moment, or even the night before. It was him. It was this.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you said through your grin.

Harry leaned forward on his elbows, his eyes softening as he looked at you like you were the only thing that existed in the world worth seeing.

“Yeah,” he murmured, a crooked smile pulling at his lips.

And with the way his eyes looked at you, you felt your heart do that same fluttery ache it had last night. Harry leaned in, closing the space between you, and pressed his lips to yours.

It wasn’t the kind of desperately, rushed and hungry kiss like the night before. This was completely different. Slower, more certain. He had finally made peace with the was he felt about you. His hand brushed your cheek as he deepened the kiss, tasting the coffee and warmth the liquid had left on your lips.

When he finally pulled back, his thumb traced patterns over the edge of your jaw.

“I could kiss you like this every morning,” he whispered, a lazy grin tugging at his lips.

You smiled; your eyes still closed for a beat longer, just letting the feel of him linger on you.

“You better do it,” you teased, your voice soft, playful, but full of pleading.

Harry chuckled, pressing one last kiss to the corner of your mouth before pulling back, his eyes brighter than you’d seen them before.

“Of course, baby,” he murmured, his hand slipping into yours across the table like it belonged there.

And somehow, without even realizing it, the two of you had stumbled into something that felt like home.

The morning stretched on lazily, fulfilled by the love blossoming between the you and Harry, lost conversations, kisses that almost lead to other things. And for you, time seemed to spot under his stare. It felt like the world outside didn’t exist. But no long after, time caught up with you both. You glanced at the clock and groaned.

“Oh, I’m gonna be late,” you sighed, setting your empty mug in the sink.

Harry stood from his chair, grabbing his keys from the counter. “I’ll drive you.”

“Harry, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he said softly, crossing the kitchen in a few steps to stand in front of you. His hand found its way to your waist. “I don’t want you walking” he added with a crooked grin, leaning down to steal one more kiss from you, “I’ll take any excuse to have you with me a little longer.”

You smiled against his mouth, your heart squeezing tight in your chest because, God, you were getting so used to this. To him. To this easy, unguarded affection that came without conditions.

You loved love, the idea of it. You craved it for so long and now that you were tasting this piece of it. You couldn’t get enough of it.

“Alright,” you murmured, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Drive me then.”

He chuckled, reaching for your coat and holding it open for you.

The drive was quiet, but joyful. His hand stayed on your thigh the whole time, thumb brushing slow circles, like he couldn’t help himself. Neither of you spoke much, you didn’t need to. The city blurred by outside the car window, but it didn’t matter. The only thing real was this small, perfect world you’d built inside his car.

When he pulled up in front of your café shop, he turned to you, hesitant at what it came with letting you go.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come in?” he asked, his gaze seemed serious.

You laughed softly, leaning over to kiss him one more time. “Go to work, Harry. Try to get something done today.”

“I will be too busy thinking about you.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “I’ll see you tonight, alright?”

A big smile spread across his face. “Yeah,” he breathed, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You will.”

He leaned in to press a lingering kiss to your lips. “Have a good day,” he said against your mouth, smile popping.

You pulled back with a laugh. “I will now.”

And then you slipped out of the car, walking towards the door. The bell above the place jingled as you stepped inside. And you didn’t need to turn around to know he was still watching you.

Harry sat there for a moment longer than necessary, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel, heart a little fuller than it had been the night before and the day that would come.

Yeah. He was gone for you. Completely. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Harry sat there for a long minute, watching the door you had disappeared behind. The city moved around him, people rushing by, horns blaring, but none of it mattered to him. Not when his girl, the one he knows would become his whole world had just walked through that café door.

He tapped his fingers on the wheel, the ghost of her laugh still in his ears, and smiled to himself. Perhaps this was the kind of “easy” was of love was. Not uneasy, no waste of your time. With you didn’t feel difficult in any way. It felt so natural to get used to.

One day at a time, he thought.

Right now, for the first time, the idea of love didn’t terrify him. It didn’t feel like a contract or something you could pay for. It felt like the easiest feeling he had ever experienced. Hope, perhaps.

Mornings spent with someone tangled up with you, simple breakfasts, eyes always looking for yours at every room. He wanted it. All of it. With you. He wanted to take his time to built the perfect story for you. To show you the world he’d quietly gathered in his hands, one piece at a time, just waiting for the right person to share it with.

But perhaps fate had its own way of dispose its things.

A kind of rearrangement you didn’t see it coming. The kind that starts with a single thread tugged loose and ends with everything you thought you knew tilting. The kind of twist that changes the shape of your life before you can even name it, a new, unexpected future forming quietly in the spaces between heartbeats. As everything you had dreamed of becoming real. Not a dream.

Neither of you could have known it yet, but something was already on its way. And it would turn out to be everything you never thought you’d have.

tags:

@jasminedragoon @stcrrjoon @sptbear @picketniffler @greenwitchfromthewoods @fallout-girl219 @suzysface @aomi-recs @capuccinodoll @fvispunk @orcasoul @joeldarling @mystickittytaco @onlythehobi @darkheartgatita @isabella-rose-trastamara @spencercmlover @brittmb115 @correapunk @aomi-nabi @annulmaelae @32-flavors @berriesarepunk @joelmillerpascal

@lotusbxtch @dean-and-baby343 @pedrofan @hisuccubus @daryltwdixon @sourrollercoaster @holholliday @loveisacowboyyy

@hhallefuckinglujahh @primadonnasdream @chewie-bars @starstriker027 @glitterspark @casualbananapatrol @06nasyrah13

@unicornsandpugs @orcasoul @grayandthyme @sincerelywithheartt @starstriker027 @poor-unfortunate-soul9927

@ro-nahime-things @kimi01985 @pastelpinkflowerlife @isabella-rose-trastamara @majuia

#fic: whatever you'd like us to be #harry castilo #harry castillo materialists #harry castillo x f!reader #harry castillo x you #harry castillo fanfiction #harry castillo imagine #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal

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l0v3-qu4rtz · 2 days ago

Text

One More Time

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Ex!Reader

Summary: Just one more time with your ex, and that's it

Disclaimers: ANGSTY SEX. MDNI 18+ angst, sex with an ex, big foreplay action, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected piv sex, creampie, spit play, missionary, a little rough manhandling, sad ending, breakup flashbacks

A/N: WOAH 2 FICS IN A FEW HOURS W O A H !!! I wanted to write a sexy "we shouldn't be doing this" smut but as i kept writing, it got sadder and sadder so.. SAD SEX :DD don't sleep with your ex, and don't text him !! You're better this, girlie💔

"We cant keep doing this.." He says between kisses, his hands on your shoulders pushing you away yet getting closer himself. Your hands hold his face but rest of his shoulders as he pushes you away.

"Just this night, please" you beg, breathless before kissing him again. What ever happened to healing ? That's what you were supposed to be doing after Spencer broke up with you, that's what you were both supposed to be doing.

But no matter how hard you both fought, there was always this attraction that pulled you two together. Maybe it was loneliness, maybe it was just pure horny-ness, or maybe it was something deeper. Something you both would never admit to after the relationship ended.

"It's not fair. I can't give you what you want, my job demands too much from me and I can tell it's affecting you. It hurts to know you're hurting by staying with me, I don't want to see you hurting anymore" you sat on the couch in his apartment, looking down. You didn't cry, you didn't say anything, it's almost like all the air was taken out of your lungs and like you were choking. "I'm so sorry. It's not fair to you, you need more than i can provide. You deserve better" He walked closer to you, tears falling from his eyes and his voice shaking. He didn't usually cry, especially in front of you.

Tearing the clothes off your body as you keep your lips connected to his, him mirroring your actions. You both were breathing heavy and you both were at each other, like predators on fresh prey. This wasn't the first time you two hooked up after the break. The first time was almost directly after, claiming you both only wanted to talk. Clear any misunderstanding, that's what he said but the only thing cleared was the clothes on your back and you would do it again gladly. Which brings you here.

All of your friends would be so disappointed, yelling and screaming at you to stop. To focus of yourself, "fuck him, he didn't prioritize you and he just wanted an out" but that's not the Spencer you knew. The Spencer you knew cared so much for you, wanted the best for you, loved you more than anything. The Spencer you knew still showed himself in the way he was touching you right now.

The way his hands were sliding in all directions around his back, feeling your warm bare skin against his palm. His touch is so gentle yet so hungry, just like how it was when you would spend nights at his house when he'd come from long cases. There was something different in his touches now, a sort of longing and yearning. I guess he could say the same for you, you missed his scent and his touch. The days without contact were torture, you stayed up for nights, missing the feeling of laying on his chest. You missed wearing his clothes and you missed his comfort.

His hands traveled down from your bare back to your clothed ass, grabbing two handfuls. Your jeans feel like jail when you ache for him. You're quick to unzip your jeans and push them down, kicking them aside. He steps closer and closer to you, backing you up towards the bed. His hands slide down your arms and intertwine his fingers with yours, lifting them up beside your head before pinning you down onto the bed. He's as gentle as ever, even after breaking your heart.

He slides your bra straps down your shoulder as he kisses down your neck and chest. He begins to unbuckle his belt, unzipping his jeans before going back to working on you. Kissing down your stomach, you've gotten skinnier since you both broke up and Spencer noticed. He always noticed everything, that's what made him such a great boyfriend and that's why he called it quits.

He got to your lacey underwear, the same one he remembered picking out for you on your birthday. He can remember how embarrassed and flustered he was in a lingerie store. "You kept these ?" He asks, kissing on top of the material before licking a stripe up your clothed clint.

"i kept everything" you moan quietly, closing your eyes. He hikes up your legs on his shoulders, running his big hands over your thighs as he begins soaking the wet material with his saliva. He was always such a tease, loving foreplay and getting you excited more than the actual sex. Your hands find themselves already in his messy curls before he actually starts on your bare clint. His hand runs up your thighs and slips fingers underneath the sides of your panties, growing harder just by the feeling of your warm skin.

He finally releases you from his foreplay torture and slides your soaked panties off your body, revealing your glistening pussy thats practically already dripping. You resist the urge to buck your hips against the air and he rewards your restraint with his mouth. He latches onto your clint and begins sucking, reveling in your taste he missed. Your back arches off the bed and you moan louder. You moan his name and now both of your hands are in his hair. He grips onto your thighs as he eats you out like a starved man.

"Spencer, I'm close- ah.." you gasp, your thighs closing around his head as he quickens his pace. You moan out as you finally cum, pushing yourself against his face. You feel yourself pulsing against his lips and your legs shake on the sides of his head. "Fuck.." you breathe out, your body relaxing as he pulls away. His chin and lips are covered in your cum and he licks his lips, wiping his chin off.

He stands up and takes his pants off, sliding his boxers off with it. Your body still reacts the same way when you see his rock hard length. You feel that pit of excitement in your stomach, already imagining it deep inside you. You bite your lip while smiling, practically still drooling at sight of him naked and horny above you. You yelp as he pulls you down closer to him by your legs, still keeping that same Reid-drunk smile on your face.

He leans down, kissing you and pushing your knees forward as he does. You can feel the head of his cock against your clit. The sensation makes you hum into the kiss, you both eat each other's lips like it's the last and maybe it will be. Your hands find themselves on his jaw before he pulls away, your lips still slightly open and a string of mixed saliva connecting. He uses his thumb to open your mouth just a little more before spitting his mouth. He knew you loved that, how turned on it would make you, he remembered everything about you. How to make you laugh, your favorite foods, your hobbies, what you disliked, what you liked, what you wanted, how to make you feel good and how to care for you.

You feel a bit of his spit drip down your cheek and he pecks your lips one last time before standing back up. He admires you; your hair splayed across the sheets, light hickies on your neck, drool on your cheek, your face flushed and your pupils dilated. You were still so perfect.

He pushes into you, that familiar stretch still lighting up your nervous system. You throw your head back, opening your mouth to moan but nothing comes out. He cages you as he pushes all the way in, groaning at the squeeze he missed so much. You feel like you're on cloud nine, all the thoughts of the break up long gone. It's almost like it never happened in that moment. Everything is gone at that moment, it's just you and Spencer. That's how it was supposed to be.

He tries to go slow but god, he misses you so much he cant stop himself. He speeds up almost immediately, groaning and moaning along with you. You gasp out his name as you claw down his arm. Your eyes roll back in your head, moaning so loud that you're sure everyone in your own city knows what you're doing. You're already overstimulated from cumming once and you swear you're seeing stars.

"Spencer, Oh my God.." those familiar moans put everything in Spencer on high alert, he could get drunk on you. He didn't break up with you because he never loved you, he broke up with you because he DID love you. He adored you, and he fell in love with you again and again every time he made love to you.

He was close, he was moaning and whimpering at this point. He leans down, wrapping his arms around you as his hips thump against you like rabbits going at it. You reciprocate the bear hug and you pull at his hair as you feel yourself getting closer as well. You both reach your climax with a loud moan, you swore you felt like you were overflowing. He thrusts a few more times before his hips come to a stop, you both hug each other and you feel him soften inside you.

As you're in his arms, all the memories come rushing in. All the times you would be in his apartment, all the times you slept in his bed waiting for him to come back from cases, all the times you'd lay on his chest, all the restaurant dates, the cheesy letters, birthday cards, gifts. The problem with bad coping mechanisms and distractions is that they don't last forever. You're in a dream then awake again to the pain of loss.

He finally lets you go, leaving you exposed to the cold air of the room and pulls out of you. He flops down next to you and you can almost tell he's thinking the same thing you are. You snuggle up to him, both still breathing hard and sweating. This is the last time. This is the last time, you repeat as you both kiss in the shower. This is the last time, you say as your shampoo runs down his forearm as he grips the back of your hair while kissing again. This is the last time as he uses your body wash. This is the last time as he used the spare towel you kept specifically for him. This isn't the last time, as you lay next to him. Your head on his chest and his arms wrapped around you, him fast asleep and you still wide awake. It was always so easy for him to sleep.

This isn't the last time and part of you was okay with that as long as he didn't leave.

Masterlist

#spencer reid #criminal minds #i love spencer reid #dr spencer reid #mgg #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #dr reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencerreid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut #spencer reid fic #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #s.r

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backtothechurch · 3 days ago

Text

"yeah it broke" john walker x super soldier!reader

smut +18, minors please don't

warnings: no mentions of y/n, reader genitals and genre not specified, pet names used, smut, comedy, cursing, switch!reader and switch!walker, blood as a turn on

note: first, thanks for the likes and reposts on the other post, it gave me inspiration for more dirty things hehe. second, I've been obsessed with "one thing" by lola young and I was wondering how fun would've be breaking the bed.

like, comment and reblog, let's go

you needed him. and oh shit that was consuming you.

you and John were assigned to a very quick mission on a fake company that was possibly making drugs.

you don't have idea if it is the summer heat in new york those days or just your been too many days without sex, but he never looked so good.

"still don't know why val thought the mission needed two super soldiers" walker said looking down to the people at the fake company.

he was on his suit, but thanks god he left his helmet at the tower, his hair was bigger now, and he just did his beard, he was stunning.

you always thought he was an attractive guy, even when you two met two years ago when he was captain america. maybe was the way you met him, all beaten up, crawling away after a fight with bucky and sam, his arm broke and his face bleeding everywhere, you had a thing for beaten blonde bloody men. you helped him that day, he didn't know you were one of the flag smashers until weeks after when your picture was all over the country, rough days.

but now you two are on the same team, at the beginning it was easy to not feel anything, he is an asshole so wanting to shoot him was a good distraction, but today you wanted to shoot him with another thing, way more liquid than a bullet.

"hey! did you even listened to me?!" walker asked and got you out of your thoughts

"yeah of course" no, definitely not. every time you looked at him all you could hear is "bla bla blah"

"I know you didn't, you're not subtle when you're staring" damn it, he was not supposed to know you were staring. "so, we should knock out the people here and just call the police and let them do the rest, I'm not in the mood to arrest drug dealers and possible terrorists tonight" you nod, you wasn't on that mood either, you just needed to get back to the tower and use the vibrator on the back of your drawer for the whole night.

"okay, let's go" he said you two got inside, kicked some asses, deviated from some bullets and got a few punches. more specifically walker got punched on the face, his nose and eyebrow were bleeding and that was bad, because he managed to look hotter.

after finding the proofs and files and when police arrived you two left the scene, you were worried.

"that's a bad cut, john, we should go to the hospital" he groaned and shook his head.

"I'm fine" yeah he was "I just need... I need to go home"

"they won't let you walk away with this bloodied face without going to the med bay" you kept walking still looking at his face, the blood had dripped and his lips had a bit of blood too.

"im not talking about the tower" he looked at you, more of a glare, he was probably on a lot of pain but damn your legs were weak.

"so what you're talking about?" he just stay in silence and walked.

"you have an apartment and never told any of us?!" you asked when he opened the door, the place was... actually very pretty, you always thought that if walker lived alone he would have a 'masculine house', with horses and military random stuff, just like his dorm. but no. that was a very normal home.

"it's the place I had before, well everything" he walked directly to the kitchen and got an ice bag to place on his nose.

"it's a very nice place" you said smiling softly, you took off the heavy material of you suit and placed on the counter that separate you two. now you could breath better and feel less hot.

he nods and smiled a bit sad.

"yeah, it is" he walked to sit on the bench at your side, he sighed. "olivia did a good job at decorating it" besides the sad remark you chuckled and he lift his look to you "why the laugh?"

"because its obvious that a woman decorated that" now was his time to chuckle and scoff

"why? I'm a very good decorator okay?" you laughed and walked to be in front of him, you started to clean his eyebrow cut and the blood from his nose, he looked up at you smiling, that was killing you slowly, you needed him.

"you have a poster of a horse above you bed at the tower" his smile got wider, he placed the ice bag on the counter behind him "alright you won"

then silence, he was still looking up at you, the smile became a smirk, but not the cocky smirk, was a happy smirk, a smirk as if he was admiring you, then he chuckled.

"you have a neon light sign above your bed saying 'where the magic happens'" you laugh hard when says it.

"better than a horse"

for some reason that back up line was the trigger for both of you and he kissed you, slowly.

maybe he was on the romantic slowly vibes, but you were burning waiting for this time all of your life, so you kissed him back hard.

your hands went directly to his suit and he holds your hands and pulled away.

"look I don't wanna mess what we have" you groans and pull him closer

"can you just live a little?" you caressed him hair "Nobody will ever know" he nods and took you to the bedroom.

he walked taking off his boots while you were taking off yours, when you and him crashed the bed his pants were somewhere else, his cock rock hard under his boxer, you groaned, that was exactly what you wanted.

you take off the rest of his upper suit and he freed his cock.

"you look so good with no clothes on" you said with a sign and he grinned, there was that cocky grin you loved to hate.

when he went down to kiss you you switched positions and got on top of him, he moaned when you sat over his cock.

he helped you remove the rest of your clothes and you pushed him further on the bed. you got the condom box and put on him while he watched with his eyes dripping lust

when he got inside you, the room was filled with loud moans, you could feel his cock stretching you and you clenched your walls.

you started riding him hard, the noise of skin slapping skin was loud and dirty. you hold the headboard and he hold your hips so tight you knew you would have bruises next day, he was moving you as hard as you were riding.

right before your first orgasm you two hear a loud crack and almost fell.

you were holding pieces of the headboard, and the bed just broke in half, you two share looks of shock.

"did we-" you said looking around you two

"yeah we broke the bed" you chuckled still in shock and covered your mouth

"oh my god" he chuckled with you and lift you both from the bed

"so that's what happens when two super soldiers decide to fuck rough on an ordinary bed" you hugged his neck and he got up with a groan "at least we always have the old good sofa" he got a sheet and put under you and him, now he was on top.

after a quick break to breath he started moving again, he didn't lost the pace and started pounding you, you could feel him breaking your back, while you scream moans and call his name out loud to everyone hear.

one of his hands were on top on your head caressing and gripping your hair while the other one was on the arm of the couch above you two. your hands were on his hair and back so you could hold on him.

after a few minutes of rough pounding you two moans loud and cum together, your fluids wetting the sheets under you two.

he was catching his breath while admiring your face, then he move his hand from the arm of the couch and kissed you, slowly this time.

that was when the arm of the couch crashes the floor making another loud noise that scare you two, you are another confused and shocked look before looking up seeing the couch armless and the arm on the floor.

walker chuckles hiding his face on your neck, he takes his cock out of you and rest his whole weight on top of you. "you're destroying my house, sweetheart"

you laugh hugging his neck and kissing his shoulder "you needed a you needed an aoartment renovation anyways"

he shake his head you two stayed like this for the rest of the night.

#john walker #John walker x reader #John walker smut #smut #thunderbolts #the new avengers #us agent #mcu

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dxrlingluv · 12 hours ago

Note

ahem ahem *hold the mic*

size kink w zeus or Poseidon x short/ fem reader

*drops the mic and run away*

My Little Mortal

A/N : I don’t know how to go about this, but slay. Thank you so much for requesting!

WARNING : Fem!Reader, NSFW / Smut, size kink, size difference, slight dacryphilia, breeding kink (Poseidon), possessive behavior, overstimulation, slight degradation, praise kink, light fear kink (Poseidon), orgasm control / edging (implied), rough sex, mild dub-con tones.

Word Count : 1.7k

ZEUS

You weren't supposed to wander that far up the mountain.

But your curiosity, much like the sudden lightning that cracked overhead, had a habit of striking before your senses caught up.

You'd heard the rumors. That the summit of Mount Olympus—its true summit—was hidden to mortals, cloaked by divine power. You didn't believe it, not really. Not until you stepped through that blinding mist and found yourself face to chest with a man.

No. A god.

"Lost, little one?"

His voice thundered, low and velvety, carrying more power in its roll than the stormclouds brewing behind him. His smile, though, was sharp—playful, hungry. Zeus stood there, tall as the sky, broad as a temple's pillars, and you... you barely reached his ribs.

You should've run. Should've apologized. But you just stared.

"I—I didn't mean to—"

Zeus leaned down, silver curls tumbling forward, his golden eyes glowing like twin suns. His index finger traced your jaw, tilting your chin up, forcing you to crane your neck just to meet his gaze.

"Didn't mean to?" he echoed, amused. "You climbed a divine mountain, walked into my domain uninvited, and dared to look at me like that. Either you're incredibly brave..." His grin widened. "Or you're begging for trouble."

His finger trailed lower, down your throat, pausing over your fluttering pulse.

You swallowed.

"I didn't mean to disturb—"

"Oh, but you did. And now..." He straightened to his full, towering height, looking down at you like you were a curiosity. "You'll have to face the consequences."

Your breath hitched as he extended his hand. Lightning crackled at his fingertips—not threatening, but pulsing with heat. You hesitated. Then, without fully understanding why, you took it.

In a flash, you were no longer on the mountain.

The air changed. The ground beneath you became plush, silken, impossibly soft. You blinked up and realized you were now in a chamber—gilded, glowing, ancient. The clouds floated beneath the marble floor, and stormlight flickered along the walls.

Zeus circled you like a predator, unhurried.

"You're so... small," he murmured, voice thick with interest. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to hold back around creatures like you?"

His hand slid around your waist. His fingers spanned your entire back, the contrast in size sending heat pooling in your core. His palm covered almost your whole torso.

"I won't break," you whispered, unsure where the courage came from.

A beat of silence. Then, a dark chuckle rumbled in his chest.

"Oh, darling. I very much intend to test that theory."

You gasped as your back hit the bed—a bed larger than any you'd ever seen. Zeus hovered above you, the god of thunder himself, every inch of him carved like lightning had shaped him personally. He removed his robe slowly, deliberately, watching your reactions like he was reading your soul.

And when he bared himself to you—massive, overwhelming—you went still.

He was enormous. Divine in every sense. Every part of him radiated power. Including that part.

Zeus noticed the way your legs clenched.

"Too much?" he teased.

You licked your lips, heart pounding. "We'll see."

The first touch was electric—literally. Sparks danced along your skin wherever he kissed, wherever he dragged his tongue. His hands explored every curve of your body, worshipping you with godly reverence and unrelenting need. He whispered about how soft you were, how easily he could pick you up, how irresistible your mortal heat was compared to the cold of Olympus.

When he slid his fingers into you—just two—you arched off the bed, already stretched. Already trembling.

"So tight," he purred. "You'll barely be able to take me."

"Then go slow."

"Oh no, little one," he growled. "You came all this way. Let's see if your mortal body can handle the storm."

And when he finally pressed himself against you, large and pulsing, your fingers dug into his shoulders. The stretch was unbearable. Euphoric. A blend of too much and not enough.

You cried out. He grunted, pressing kisses to your jaw, your collarbone, your breasts.

"That's it. Take me. Let me ruin that tiny body."

Your nails scraped his skin—his glowing, godly skin—and he didn't stop. He moved deep, slow, savoring every trembling gasp, every whimper. Your moans echoed like thunder across the divine walls. His thrusts were careful, but intense, rocking the entire chamber, shaking the clouds themselves.

"You feel me here?" he asked, one massive palm pressing gently against your lower belly.

You nodded, tears pricking your eyes from the pressure.

"Good. That's where I belong."

The pleasure mounted, violent and crackling. His size, his power, the way he overwhelmed your senses—it all built like a storm rolling in.

"Come for me," he whispered, "Come with your god inside you."

And you shattered.

The lightning outside exploded in tandem with your cries, a divine orgasm ripping through you as Zeus held you tightly, possessively. He spilled into you with a roar of satisfaction, like the thunderclap announcing victory.

After, as your body curled against his massive frame, he chuckled into your hair.

"Next time, mortal," he said, voice still rumbling with pleasure, "Don't pretend you got lost. Just come straight to me."

You smiled against his chest, knowing there would be a next time.

POSEIDON

The sea had always called to you.

You didn't know why. You weren't a sailor. You weren't raised by the shore. Yet you found yourself there every week—ankles in the surf, wind in your hair, heart aching with a longing you couldn't name.

It was on the seventh visit that the ocean answered back.

A wave surged suddenly—not crashing, but rising. Towering. Impossible. You stumbled back, eyes wide. The wave shimmered unnaturally, its crest shaped like a hand before it split... and from it emerged a man.

No. A god.

Poseidon.

He stepped onto the shore like he owned it—because he did. The ocean churned behind him, obeying every motion of his bare, salt-kissed skin. He was colossal. Muscles like waves sculpted from stone, his long dark hair dripping seawater onto his broad shoulders. He looked down at you, eyes glowing the color of deep ocean trenches.

"You've been calling me," he said, voice dark and guttural, echoing like a tide in your bones.

You swallowed hard. "I haven't—"

"You have," he growled, stepping closer. The sand trembled under his weight. "Every time you stood at the edge. Every time you begged silently for more. You summoned me."

Your heart thundered. "I didn't mean to."

Poseidon smirked.

"Good. Because now you're mine."

You were in the water before you realized he'd moved—before you could move. The ocean had reached out, cradling you, dragging you under but not drowning you. You weren't cold. You weren't even wet. The sea bent itself to his will—and Poseidon bent you to his.

The chamber you now found yourself in wasn't made of marble or stone. It was made of coral and light, glowing with bioluminescent blues and greens. Pearls dotted the walls, and water moved like curtains around you.

Poseidon stood before you, dripping, divine, and devastatingly large.

You could feel his power rolling off him in waves. It wasn't just divine—it was feral. Ancient. Primordial.

"You're so small," he muttered, lifting you up like you weighed nothing. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you open in the air. "So breakable. So... tempting."

He pressed you against the smooth wall of sea glass and let your legs dangle around his waist. His hips slotted between yours naturally, and you gasped at the thickness of him pressing into your soaked core.

You felt dwarfed, tiny, consumed. And gods, you wanted more.

"You're trembling," he whispered, licking along your jaw. "Are you afraid?"

You were.

And aroused.

Poseidon grinned, as if he tasted your fear.

"Good."

When he finally pushed into you—slowly, inch by thick, overwhelming inch—you cried out.

It hurt.

It burned.

But you never wanted him to stop.

"You'll take it," he growled into your throat. "All of it. I'll stretch this mortal cunt until you can only breathe through me."

He filled you too deep. Too wide. His cock throbbed inside you as your muscles clamped tight around him, struggling to adjust. Your back arched against the wall, but he held you firmly in place, one massive hand splayed across your belly.

"Look at that," he murmured, almost proud. "I can see myself through you."

Your eyes rolled back.

"Too much?" he mocked, but his voice softened slightly. He kissed your collarbone, then the top of your breasts. "You'll get used to it."

He pulled back—almost out—then slammed forward.

You screamed.

The ocean outside the coral chamber churned, glowing brighter.

He began to thrust, powerful and slow at first, watching the way your small frame absorbed every punishing roll of his hips. His grip bruised your thighs, his breath turned ragged, and you felt like you were being shattered and remade with each snap of his hips.

"You were made for this," he growled. "Made to be stretched open by a god. Mine. All mine."

You babbled something incoherent—his name, a plea, a moan—your voice wrecked by pleasure.

He bent forward, licking into your mouth like the sea itself was claiming you.

"I'll breed you full of me," he growled. "Mark you from the inside. Fill your tiny womb until it overflows. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Your hands dug into his shoulders. "Yes—please—Poseidon—!"

He fucked you like the tide—unrelenting, rhythmic, rising. Your body barely kept up, and when your orgasm hit, it cracked through your spine like lightning.

But Poseidon wasn't done.

He kept going—harder, deeper, overwhelming—and you felt yourself falling apart again, sobbing his name, your body shaking from the intensity. He chased his own climax with primal abandon, hips stuttering as he spilled into you with a roar that made the entire ocean quake.

When it ended, he held you.

Tight. Possessive. Breathing hard.

Your body trembled in his arms—sore, overstretched, and impossibly full.

He kissed your temple.

"You're mine now," he whispered. "And I'll drown any who touch you."

#dxrlingluv #epic the musical #epic x reader #epic fanfic #probably the best smut i’ve written so far #smut #epic poseidon #poseidon x reader #poseidon #zeus x reader #epic the musical zeus #blood of zeus #zeus deity #epic zeus #zeus

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slashes-slut · 3 days ago

Note

I have a requesssst:

Can you please write an imagine where reader has her friend Slash over at home and she tells him all about her next date with her boyfriend and how the two want to take things to the next level. Then Slash mischievously suggests that he can "prepare" her, cause he has a lot of sex experience and says he wants to show her how to give head properly and how to fuck properly.

During the session she completely forgets about her boyfriend because slash is such a good sex god🤤🦭🦭

Pretty please make this real smutty and dirty🤤🥹

I really enjoyed writing this one although it did take me a while lol

Tw: Smut, cheating, blowjobs, fingering, p in v sex

Divider by @kiyaedits

I Can Help

"He said he wants to... Well you know on our next date and like I want to but, I don't know anything about it. What if I fuck up?" You were currently discussing your boy troubles with Slash, he'd come over to show you a horror movie that he thought was up your alley. However you were too preoccupied with the thought of your next date with the guys you'd been seeing for a month now, he'd noticed and now you were spilling everything to him.

"like, I've never gone any further than a make-out sesh. I don't know how to do anything more and I don't want him to like I don't know, think I'm not good?", you were really just overthinking everything.

"it's not that deep, it's hard to be bad at sex", He was trying to be reassuring, not wanting you to be so freaked out about it.

After some more back and forth of you stressing out and Slash trying to either reassure you or ignore in favour of the movie he decides to give you a solution.

"let me teach you then if you're so worried", you couldn't tell if he was being serious, he looked serious but that would be wrong right?

"Slash that's cheating though."

"Only if he finds out and hey I'm not going to force you to but it might make you less worried."

"Yeah there ya go pretty girl, down on your knees", Slash gently put his hand on your shoulder to guide you down, he didn't want to overwhelm you. He was supposed to be teaching you after all. You were still unsure about this whole thing but as long as your boyfriend didn't find out it was okay right?

Once you were on your knees in between his legs you looked up at him almost innocently, this was your first time in this position and you were waiting for him to guide you further, the weight of his hand on your shoulder was reassuring as he used his other hand to undo his jeans. He pushes his jeans down just enough for his cock to be freed. As usual he's not wearing underwear

His cock was an average size 5-6 inches you guessed but it was thick and had a very prominent vein running down the side. Your mouth was practically watering at the thought of it down your throat and you only felt a little guilty. He held the base of it. "Come on pretty girl, it's simple. Just put it in your mouth, watch your teeth."

"m'kay", you leaned forward enough to take the tip in your mouth, wanting to go slow. It was odd at first the feeling of it, the taste was interesting but not entirely bad. You dipped your head down further, moving your tongue around and looking up at him. He was looking down at you with grin, one hand on your shoulder and the other on the side of your face.

"There you go, you're getting it". He pushed your hair back a bit, "a little further c'mon", because of your inexperience you couldn't quite take him all the way but you did your best to make up for it by speeding up on what you could take, it was messy, spit was everywhere but that only made it hotter. You pulled back to pay some attention to the head of his cock, running your tongue over the slit, earning a groan from the man above.

You pulled off completely, using your hand to stroke him slowly. "Am I doing good?" You ask, your voice a little rough but wanting validation.

"so good, you're a natural baby", He used his thumb to stroke your cheek, smiling down at you. "Keep going."

You take him back into your mouth, bobbing your head eagerly, you were enjoying this more than you thought you would. Spit is dripping from the corners of your mouth making everything that much dirtier.

He grabs your hair and pulls you off of him, not roughly but it wasn't exactly gentle. "As much as I'd like to cum done your throat I think I better show you how a real man should fuck you", He pulls your hair for just a second as if he was going to pull you up but decided against it, instead letting go and grabbing your arm.

Once you're standing he takes a second to admire you, your lips all red and wet from being wrapped around his cock, your hair a bit of a mess from his pulling. "You're gorgeous, lay down on the edge of the bed."

You lay down and he grabs your thighs pulling you down further so he can stand at the end of the bed but still be between your thighs, it's this moment that makes you happy your bed is up so high.

He runs his finger up your covered cunt, he could feel how wet you were, a small wet spot forming on your panties. "So wet for me already? You're really enjoying this", He pulled your panties to the side and used his other hand to run his fingers through the wetness.

You whine at the foreign feeling of someone else's hands on you in that way. It felt so different from how you touched yourself but it was so good despite him hardly doing anything.

"Gotta make sure you can take me pretty girl", He grins as he sinks his middle finger into your cunt all the way, it wasn't much but the slide of his finger and the rougher texture was enough to make you gasp. It wasn't long till he added a second finger, using the thumb of his other hand to rub circles on your clit. "That feel good?"

"Mhm, so good" The combination of his fingers going in and out of your wet cunt along with rubbing your clit was making your leg twitch. You were making a low whining sound, you hadn't expected this little stimulation to feel so good. "Didn't know it'd feel like this."

"oh yeah? Good", He was pleased that you were enjoying this so much, he loved that he was the first person to make you feel like this. He was however impatient so he didn't finger you for long. Only a few moments later he was pulling his fingers out eliciting a whine from you and wiping his hand the blanket

"Hey!", Did he seriously just do that

"it's fine we'll wash it", He dismissed your concern knowing it wasn't that big of a deal. Slash pull your panties fully off now and stepped forward to be between your legs once again. His cock was still hard pre-cum dripping from the tip, he grabbed your right hip with one hand and his cock with the other. "You're sure you want this?"

"oh, please Slash" You say, your voice needy while looking up at him with half lidded eyes. Your hands play with sheets beside you just to do something. You move your hips against him, feeling your arousal smear across his tip, desperate to feel anything.

"So impatient, I'm trying to teach you how to take a dick like a good slut, I'm going to go at my own pace" His voice is almost degrading but still holds that fondness that's ever present when he talks to you. Despite his words however he's just as eager for this as you are, he slaps the head of cock against your clit a few times, just to hear you whine.

"Are you ready pretty girl?"

"yes, fuck yes" It felt like he had been teasing you for so long, your cunt dripping, begging to be filled. He slowly starts to push in, wanting you to feel him fully. The feeling of it made you gasp and let out a sound close to a whimper. He started off slowly so he didn't overwhelm you but the feeling of your tight wet pussy wrapped around his cock just felt so good, it didn't take long for his thrusts to speed up. Both of his hands were on your hips holding you still for him.

Your moans and whines echoed throughout the room like the most lewd song. It felt like his cock was made for you, it felt so good. "Oh fuck, please, please don't stop" you begged and whined, losing yourself in the pleasure, at this point it was less about learning and more about the pleasure. All thoughts of your boyfriend had gone from your mind, only able to think of Slash.

"Fuck you feel so good" His head was thrown back in pleasure, his breathing deep as he let out an occasional groan. "God you feel so fucking good wrapped around me sweetheart"

"Slash- oh fuck- m'gonna cum" After all the teasing to your virgin body it was no surprise you weren't going to last long, hearing this Slash sped up his thrusts determined to make you feel good.

You whined loudly as you came, eyes screwing shut as your legs shook from the intensity. Slash continued to fuck you through it, rutting into your dripping pussy, "fuck no more, no more" you whispered, overstimulated.

"fuck-" He quickly pulled out and jerked himself off, his cum spurting out onto your stomach in short bursts. He fell onto the bed beside you, brushing some hair off your forehead, "did so good for me" He said quietly, his voice filled with affection. He sat up and tucked himself back into his pants. He then grabbed your discarded shirt and pants, using your shirt to wipe off your stomach and helping you into your pants.

"Do you need some water?"

You just nodded a bit worn out, still trying to catch your breath. A minute later you gladly took the water from Slash and drank it down greedily. The pair of you sat up together and rewinded the movie to watch it properly this time, although wrapped up in an embrace.

Needless to say you did not go on that date with your now ex-boyfriend.

#guns n roses #saul hudson #slash gnr #slash smut #guns n roses smut

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weirdgenetic-fuckup · 2 days ago

Note

PLEASE I NEED MLM JAMES IM GETTING BLUE BALLED OVER HERE

A/n: So I'm actually leaving (my house, not Tumblr) tomorrow, I thought I was leaving tonight but it got moved to tomorrow. I will still release fics today just slowly. Anyway, JAMES X M!READER SMUT IS HERE WOOT WOOT

Warnings: smut, rough sex, reader sucks himself off, homophobia, degradation, use of slurs (I’m gay I swear), use of toys, masturbation, sextapes, multiple orgasms, daddy kink, size kink, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Part 1

The tour continued, James's mocking continued at full force but you heard less of it because every time he teased you about being gay, getting bent over and fucked like you deserved, you got hard so you ran away.

You got crafty in your hiding, managing to avoid him for entire days at a time before he would eventually cross your path and it all came out again. "Where's your little rainbow?" He called as you hurried down the hall. "Is it taking the form of a plug?" You shot him a look and kept walking.

You never had any sex toys, you had a hand or a woman, you never had a need for them. You were tucked away in a bunk on a bus with some of the crew. You hid under the sheets and closed your curtain, keeping yourself hidden even though it was the middle of the night and everyone was sleeping. You kept getting hard, every time you thought about him or saw him, even just hearing him made your cock twitch. Of course, at night was the worst because you just couldn't get away from it, your thoughts dragged you back to that closet with him degrading you, his cock filling your throat.

You bit down on a pillow to muffle your moans as you desperately stroked your cock, aching for a release that wouldn't come. You did this every night, nothing came of it, even after you let yourself think of him touching you instead, nothing.

With tears in your eyes, desperation clawing at your insides, you let go of your leaking cock and reached behind, fingers grazing your ass. It was weird at first, you pushed a finger against that elastic flesh and it gave way. You tried to pretend your finger was just inside a woman, what would she like, how she'd like it. When you curled that finger you gasped, finally getting what you'd been searching for.

Picturing a woman was good for figuring out what to do, but it didn't get you off. You needed James to get you off. You listened to interviews of him, getting off to Metallica's music, using whatever you could to get off. It came around to bite you in the ass when you had to carry things around with you to hide your painful erection just in case you happened to hear his booming voice over the big speakers that were set up to fill the entire arena.

When you got back on the bus, though, when you shoved your face into a pillow and reached behind your back and pumped a finger in and out of you, that's when it was ok, when it was all worth it. You got your work done and you rewarded yourself for it after every hard day, and it was definitely hard all day. And by it, well, heh, let's just say... my peanit

The tour was coming to an end, which meant you weren't going to be seeing Metallica every day, you wouldn't hear James live -even if he was calling you a faggot or something, you needed relief after every interaction and you liked it that way.

Returning home was hard, the first week you spent sleeping, then you were supposed to go back to your old life. Except every night you had your ass in the air and were moaning out for James. His fingers were thicker, his voice was rougher, he was older. Your fingers were taking longer to make you cum and it wasn't feeling as good, you got desperate again, alone in your apartment with no relief.

Porn was a bust but it gave you an idea, all those guys you started following on twitter had toys...

They were much too big for you, too textured and the list went on, but as you kept watching them you knew that's what you wanted inside you, you wanted to feel the stretch, feel it pumping deep inside you.

You went to a sex shop and found the perfect one, for a later date. It was big, nine inches or so it said on the box, it looked like a unicorn horn with the way it wrapped around itself, had bumps littering the surface; quite possibly the best part was that it was rainbow, that comment James had made rung around in your head still. You bought it then and there along with a much smaller toy, a measly little four inch dildo that just looked like a lime green dick. It was weird but it was a start, and it vibrated so you figured it couldn't be that bad.

Never having been a shy person you posted them to your twitter account, saying it mostly as a joke, making a joke remark about them totally being for the girlfriend you didn't have. You never expected the attention that post got, people begging to see a picture of the toys in use, offering to pay you for videos.

Your first time using it you recorded it, sticking your phone in front of you and hitting the white button. Unlike the rainbow horn the green one didn't have a suction, just matching green balls to work as a flared base. Feeling a proper tip hit your hole was odd at first but you quickly grew to like it.

Your ass was doused in lube and after getting used to snapping your wrist right you were fucking yourself on a toy, recording yourself moaning out for James until you came.

The video was uploaded to Twitter, people loved it but requested a better camera, better lighting, an OnlyFans to pay for it all. Your eyes lit up at all of it.

You weren't gay, you didn't get off to watching other guys get off, you got off to the envy of having toys in them, of getting fucked. You weren't gay, you just had creative ways to get off, including the abuse of every sexual organ.

You were free of James for a while, now having something else to focus on. Fun, lots of cum, money? Within a few months you got out of your apartment to a nicer one with a spare room just for your little escapades. You had to mute the videos or put music over them to hide your moans, so no one would hear you begging for James to move faster.

There was a dull ache in your legs that you prided yourself in, it was technically exercise, enjoyable exercise. Amongst the videos you'd also post pictures of yourself. "My ass has been looking great since I started doing these" you'd caption a photo of you in your boxers, ass facing the mirror. You covered your face, keeping out of frame, not risking people finding you now that it was a little more serious.

It was all going great, then you got the email about another tour with Metallica. You weren't going to turn it down, of course, you still loved the music and James was manageable, right?

A week into the tour and that was the biggest mistake you'd ever made. You were told the bus the get into after the show, there was always moving around and switching buses so you thought nothing of it, getting on the new bus.

Your face paled as you looked up and saw your body on the screen, James seated across from it. You hadn't realized it was his bus. "Glad you could make it, playboy." He mused, palming himself through his jeans. "Why don't you show me your toys, huh? I'm sure you brought a few to get you through the tour, didn't you?" You stared at him blankly, eyes wide and mortified at his discovery. Was this why you were brought back onto the crew? "Show me." He repeated more sternly.

You slowly made your way to him, feeling like you were in a dream and the aisle just kept getting longer and longer. You were stood in front of him now, bags in hand. He took your bags and dug through the first one, not finding anything, then he went through the second one and pulled out a black bag, raising a brow at you as he held it up. "I already found your bathroom stuff, so this has got to be it, right?" He asked. You just gave a weak nod and clenched your fists tighter, knowing there was nothing to be done.

He unzipped the bag, a smirk spreading over his face as he looked into the bag. He pulled out a newer one a fan had bought for you, a silicone dildo from a monster fucking site, some kind of demon cock. You'd been saving it for the tour, thinking it would be something special, not quite this special though.

James set the bag aside and got up, sticking it to the seat across from him before sitting back down. "Go fuck yourself for daddy." He mused, smiling proudly up at you. You stayed still a moment before pulling your shirt off, you weren't sure why you were agreeing to it, all you had to do was say no, run, do something other than obey his every command. You could already feel yourself getting hard in your pants.

You swallowed thickly, pushing your jeans down, letting him see your growing erection through the thin fabric of your boxers. "Whore." He teased, palming himself through his own jeans again. Your gaze lingered there, watching him. "Oh, you like that? Like that I'm getting off to this?"

You stood up a little taller, still just in your boxers. "Doesn't make you any less gay than I am." You bit, his expression fell to one of anger.

"It definitely does if you're the one getting a plastic dick shoved up your ass." He growled, reaching forward and spanking you hard, making you yelp. James dug through the bag and threw a bottle of lube at you.

You picked it off the floor, taking a last glance at him before dropping your boxers and stepping out of them. You popped open the bottle and squirted some onto two fingers, cheeks heating up as you were hit by a train of realization; standing there, naked, in front of James, touching yourself, lubing yourself up.

"Turn around, I wanna see." He bit, you did as he asked, turning around to show you two fingers slipping between your ass, spreading lube over the tight hole that glimmered in the light that hit the watery coating. You slipped a finger in, needing to bite your lip to muffle the moan you almost let out. "Dirty whore." James muttered.

You pumped your fingers in and out of your ass, scissoring the tight hole. Your breathing was heavy, soft moans leaving you as you prepped yourself. "Alright, that's enough." James said. "Get on the toy." He ordered, gesturing to the dildo.

"I-I'm not ready, James." You muttered, knowing it would hurt without more prep.

"Did I ask if you were ready?" He asked in a firm voice. "I said, get on the fucking dick, you fucking fag!" You flinched, hoping he wouldn't notice your cock twitching.

You pulled your fingers out and moved to the toy, straddling the couch and hovering over the toy. You got some more lube and gave the toy a generous coating before pressing the tip to your ass. Then you heard a clicking sound and glanced back to find James holding his phone in one hand, recording you, his cock in his other hand. You let out a moan at just the sight of his beast, red tip pulsing just for you. Your weight slipped and you took the tip of the toy in.

"There you go." James mused, stroking himself slowly. "Needed a camera to get you going, huh? How much you think this'll make you?" You were still getting used to the bulbous tip, hesitantly letting more of your weight fall on it. "Answer me."

"I-I don't know..?" You said weakly, taking more.

"You don't know?" James asked getting up and standing behind you. He grabbed your hip, threatening to push you down the rest of the way.

"A-a couple hundred?" You said, panic in your voice as you looked back at him. James seemed fairly pleased with that answer, still, he forced you to take the rest of the toy before sitting back down in his seat with a deep grunt. Being impaled on the thing made you scream, a loud moan ripping from you.

"Bounce." He ordered. Your body didn't move, you expected James to yell at you but he didn't, just gave you a minute to recuperate. He wasn't all bad... Maybe he even cared a little, because he let you wait. Just that once he let you wait.

You lifted your hips slightly, adjusting your position and dropping your hips again. It easily hit your prostate and deeper, making it easier to keep going. The sting was still there but it wasn't your main focus when it was feeling so good.

The bus started moving, you held the back of the couch a little tighter, spreading your legs further. The vehicle filled with your moans that just got louder and louder the better you felt, bouncing proudly on your toy, cock hitting the leather seat every time you went down.

James was still sitting across from you, recording you, your ass taking all of the toy in, pink balls tapping the seat. He was grunting watching you, stroking himself fast to keep up with your pace. "Fuck, look at you, way past telling me your straight, only thing straight about you is your fucking dick when I tell you what to do."

"Oh, fuck, yes, daddy!" You moaned out, not caring about the consequences anymore.

James paused a moment, staring at you in shock. He'd called himself daddy once or twice as a joke, hearing you say it... it was almost akin to a groupie. "Fuck did you just call me?" You didn't stop, to into it, so close to the finish line.

You reached for you dick, stroking it fast. "Daddy! Hah, I'm so-! I'm so close, daddy!" You moaned, throwing your head back in pleasure.

James got up, wrapping an arm around your midsection and lifting you off the toy, making you whine. He was fuming, as was his hard-on. He went you over the small table nearby and handed you the phone, leaning over your body, so much bigger than you it felt. "Record yourself getting fucked back into the woman you were meant to be, bitch." He growled, a harsh hand coming down on your ass, eyes sparkling at the thought of him finally fucking you.

His hands held your hips tightly, only letting go to align his cock with your ass. "So fucking stretched, aren't you? Used up hole, only clean because no real dick wants you." You whined as the tip went in, James groaned lowly. "Take it like a good slut." He muttered, thrusting his full length into you. Your eyes shot open, he felt better than you thought he would.

You had quite a few toys now, vibrators, textures, some bigger than others in different ways, but nothing even compared to the real thing. Your jaw dropped open as he set a rough pace, pulling almost completely out before slamming back in, and he wasn't slow about it either. His hand came down again. "Heard you in those fucking videos, begging for me to fuck you, calling out my name. You're quiet now, aren't you, bitchboy?" He asked, spanking you again.

"Oh god, daddy!" You moaned, trying to keep holding the phone but it was hard when you could barely think straight. Your moans grew even louder, you caught James's smirk in the camera, only encouraging you to be more vocal.

"That's it, scream for me, scream for daddy." You squeezed him tight and he roared out a groan, eyes rolling back. "Fuck, you're tight, guess fake dick isn't enough." Your body bounced up and down the table, small cock whipping back and forth at James's rough pace, pulsing and aching to cum.

"Please-! Please, daddy, lemme cum! I-I'll be good, I'll be so good for you!" James's dick twitched inside you, loving when you begged. You reached a hand down, struggling before grabbing your cock and stroking your pathetic length.

"Let the camera see, let them see how much you love being dicked down." Your hand was shaky, you were scared to drop the phone but you managed, moaning louder, whinier, getting more desperate every passing second until you finally came. You saw stars, James's hitting your prostate head on. It felt like it would never end, thick strings of cum shooting from your swollen tip, tight balls getting milked.

Finally, James pulled out of you, letting you see the puddle of your cum on the floor. Your moment of ecstasy didn't last long before James was manhandling you into a new position.

He laid you on the couch on your back, sitting between your legs while keeping a foot on the ground for stability. He lifted your hips and pulled you back, shoving himself back into you while you mewled helplessly. Your eyes widened as he folded you in half, pushing himself impossibly deeper into you.

Your cock was twitching back to life, already leaking pre, mixed with cum, over your stomach and chest. He hooked your knees over his shoulders. "Want daddy to breed you, don't you?" He asked, getting a response from your walls clenching around him. "Already becoming the perfect woman, huh?" He gave your ass a pat. "We'll get you a rack soon enough, buy you pretty panties and make you fill 'em with cum." You were moaning already and he hadn't even started moving yet.

James put more of his weight on you, folding you more. "Suck it." He ordered. It took you a minute to realize what he meant, your dick dangling in front of your face. Your eyes widened but he was waiting patiently.

You stretched your neck, tongue sticking out so you could lick the tip. James groaned, grabbing a fistful of your hair and folding your further until you had your whole dick in your mouth. "I said suck it." He emphasized with a snap of his hips, repeated the motion again even after you hollowed your cheeks on your length. James took the phone from you and made sure the camera could see your predicament. "Fuck, look at you..." He groaned, his own cock pulsing at the sight. "Let's see what happens if I just..." He trailed, taking the hand on your hip to your balls and squeezing them.

Your eyes rolled back, deepthroating yourself as your came. James's hips sputtered, the sigh nearly enough to make him cum. He pulled away, letting your body roll out again, but you weren't done cumming, spurts of it landing all over your face and chest, leading all the way down to your stomach. Your body was twitching.

James stared in awe as you gargled your cum. He dropped his phone and pulled you up, making you swallow. "Gonna ride me now." He stated, sitting properly and pulling you into his lap. You weren't fighting him, eyes a little glazed over but you'd let him do anything to you at this point if it meant him loving you.

He didn't bother with you actually trying to ride him, that would get him nowhere with how fucked out you were. He just held your hips and moved you himself, smiling widely at the bulge he made in your stomach, your cock twitching again. "Good boy." He purred, the name making you fully erect.

"M'a good boy..." You mumbled, holding onto his shoulders. James nodded, moving you a little faster, his own breathing becoming harder, his focus less on fucking you now and just chasing his high.

"Gonna be a good wife one day." His teeth grit together, breathing coming hard. "Taking it whenever I want, all of it." His hips bucked up into yours, it was easier to fuck up into you than it was to have you ride him. Your eyes crossed, tongue lolling out as you neared another orgasm. James was close too, and you squeezing him wasn't helping. His rhythm became erratic, fast and he was barely pulling out at this point. "Fuck-fuck! Gonna cum, gonna fill your fucking womb!" He growled, thrusting a last few times before coming with a guttural groan and holding you firmly in his lap, your own cum dribbling down your cock and balls.

James held you for a moment longer, coming down from his high before pushing you off his lap. You landed on the ground with a thud, body weak and looking up at him with wide eyes and a pout tugging at your lips.

"There's a shower, unless you feel like sucking me dry." He said, spreading his legs and patting his thigh. You hurried right over.

#metallica #metallica rp #metallica fic #metallica fanfiction #metallica family #metallica imagines #metallica smut #metallica x reader #james hetfield #james hetfield smut #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield imagine #james hetfield fanfiction #james hetfield x you #james hetfield x m!reader #gay

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muntitled · 6 months ago

Text

Better Than Drugs

Pairings: Namgyu x Fem!Reader | Brief!Thanos x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reconnecting with your shitty ex boyfriend in the games.

Warnings: Language, Substance Abuse, Toxic Relationship, Male Manipulation, Coercion, Smut (+18) mdni, High sex, Dub/con, Choking, Exchange of Bodily Fluids, Unprotected Sex, Unedited (we die like soldiers)

A/n: literally no one will read this but I need him and I wrote this for me!

Being treated like a lamb being led to the proverbial slaughter in a death game sucked ass but seeing your ex boyfriend there sucked even more, somehow. From your vantage point perched on your bed tucked away from all the central conflict, you notice them talking about you again.

Call it past bully traum but you knew when people were talking about you and although you couldn't make out what they were saying, a part of you just knew...

Another vote had ended and Namgyu was still staring at you, his head bowed, chewing his fingernails. He was watching you, while you were forced to watch as democracy crumbled around you.

Your brain made you think Namgyu was perhaps berating you in front of his new friend. Bad-mouthing you to absolutely no end, perhaps saying what a lousy, uptight girlfriend you had been in the outside world. How you kept him from his habit. How you tried to force him into rehab countless times.

And so you shrink into yourself, squeezing yourself further into your bed, hugging your knees.

How were you supposed to know the conversation went nothing like how you thought it was going?

"We need to get her on our team," Thanos had said when the voting concluded and they were watching you pick at your roll of tin-foiled kimbap.

"She's already on our team," Namgyu muttered, more quiet than usual as he watched you through the corner of his eye. He didn't feel like eating. He felt like doing drugs. And fucking, maybe, but eating? It never occurred to him.

Without you to remind him to eat, and to actually take care of his bodily health outside of his substance abuse, he really was a mess.

"Oh yeah," Thanos muttered dumbly before turning back to his own food, "Kay, well, I need to sleep with her."

Namgyu didn't even look up from his food, still leaning against the metal beds as he murmured a quiet, "Nope." Popping his lip, extenuating the 'p'

Thanos himself was rallied into silence as Namgyu casually clicked his tongue before adding, "I called dibs on that bro," he steals another glance. You're searching your chest for a piece of cucumber that's fallen out of the kimbap

This unfortunately, zeroes his gaze in on your ample chest, miraculously squeezed into that tracksuit jacket. Now Namgyu was thinking about your tits while Thanos' head whips to the side, his brow lifted.

Namgyu couldn't take his eyes off you since the games began. Watching you during voting time had stirred up all kinds of lost emotions. The easy and almost thoughtless way you had pressed the blue button before tucking your hands in your pockets, never sparing anyone a second glance. He had to adjust the bulge forming in his sweatpant. If it weren't for him you might have continued to go amongst the games as an anonymous spectre, with that cash prize as your only goal.

"I didn't know we were calling dibs!?" Thanos stomped his feet petulantly, "That's not fair, man. Not. Cool."

"That's the point of dibs," Namgyu said, pushing his hair behind his ears as he continued to stare you down. "Who knows how long we'll be here?" As he watched you, he tilted his head downwards, causing a thick shadow to fall over his eyes as he watched you. He leaned against the railings of the metal beds piled up to the ceiling, watching you tuck your hands deeper into the sleeves of your sweater. Really fucking cute.

"B-But Homies don't call dibs on girls!" Thanos whines.

"Yeah," Namgyu nods, "but, I'm gonna need more than magic pills and a homie to get me through the night," He made a ring with his index and thumb finger, pinching his one eye shut as he spied at you through it, "She can help,”

Thanos was quiet, eerily so. Good things never happened when Thanos was quiet,

"Let's go over to her right now then. Since she's stealing my homie-"

That immediately snapped Namgyu out of his lust-filled gaze, promoting his shoulders to straighten as he tried to stop Thanos from taking another step towards you.

"Senorita-" he said in a singsong voice and you rolled your eyes as you saw them approaching. Namgyu walked behind like the shadow he always tried to be, with his hands tucked in his pocket. Your bed is relatively low to the ground and your heart stammered when both their shadows fell over you.

"Don't have any change," your eyes whipped to your ex-boyfriend before narrowing, "Or drugs. Sorry." you mustered a painfully sarcastic smile as you attempted to turn in another direction, hoping they might take the hint.

Thanos' teeth stretched as Namgyu swallowed thickly, watching you in that distinctly predatory way of his as he propped his forearm against the railing of the bed. You hate how both of them make you feel and your eye scans in vain around the premises, hoping someone might save you from the duo.

"Lemme make this quick," Thanos said with his drug addicted hand gestures. "My bro wants you and whatever bro wants-" he taps Namgyu's chest behind you- "Bro gets."

Silence passed with you staring deep into Namgyu's dark, almost sinister black eyes. You admitted that you were still painfully attracted to him. Knowing that he knows your body. He's already seen what hid under your blue tracksuit, it was dizzyingly sobering.

He still seemed so devastatingly sleezy it bordered on attractive, like he didn't care about what anyone really thought of him. It still brought an uncomfortable amount of attraction that you didn't really know what to do with. "No thanks," you said, bending your head to take a bite of the kimbap.

"Cunt." you heard him mumble under his breath. That caused your head whip up to glare at him.

"I'm a cunt because I'd rather not fuck a drug addict?"

"No," Namgyu shrugged, "You're just a cunt."

Your nostrils flared as something diabolical ignited inside you. Up until this point, fear had been the only emotion you allowed yourself to feel. The fear of dying to keep you alive. But right now, you're being plagued with another emotion and it's setting you alight with interest.

Your dating preferences were never orthodox. You knew you could never truly be satisfied with any other timid nice guy, and that's what drew you to him. You hated admitting to it but Namgyu calling you a cunt did more than irritate you, it ignited you.

"I'm not here to make friends,” You marvel now, in the tense darkness, how confident you had been then.

“How about a boyfriend then?” Namgyu asked and Thanos whistled lowly as he mutters a ‘nice bro,’

“How about choking?” You shot back, “I tried the boyfriend thing and he stole all my savings to buy drugs.” Namgyu’s jaw ticked and you can see his fist fold and unfold. Thanos’ commentary continues. ‘Shit boyfriend-’ he says under his breath.

“Don't be a bitch so early in the morning…” Namgyu says finally before turning his head, somewhat distracted, “Or at least I think it's morning. Hyung do you think it's morning-”

Thanos raised his hands, “Morning is what we make it in here, bro.”

“Leave me alone of I'll fucking scream.” you cut through all their useless chatter, letting a tense silence settle between the three of you. Eventually, Thanos reluctantly pulls Namgyu away. Murmuring a quiet ‘just take a hint bro.'

Soon, you were left in your bed but not without one more backwards glance from Namgyu over his shoulder. He wasn't done with you and that thought sat heavily on your shoulders until the robotic voice from unseen speakers made the countdown to lights out.

The very last thing you remembered, before the overhead lights were snuffed out, was his black, almond eyes still watching you from his bed.

The blue 'O' velcroed to your breast burns a hole through your conscience as your eyes flutter open in the middle of the night, really needing to pee. The prize money acts as the only source of gold light illuminating the hall while everyone else remains soundly asleep.

Life in the games was so much more stomachable during the day, but when the lights went out, you were forced to sit with your thoughts. That piggy bank didn't have money inside it, it held bodies, and the ghosts practically filled this room.

Still, you can't help but whisper to yourself, “I really have to pee.” The only thing stopping you from going to the bathroom is the gaze you knew would somehow find you from three beds over. Your ex boyfriend watches you, even when the lights go out.

Paranoia be damned.

Cursing softly, you maneuvered yourself to the ground. Trying to make the least amount of noise possible as you moved through the row of beds.

If you were being followed you'd never know. Everything was too dark but a part of you sighed as you reached the small arched doorway completely unscathed.

Almost unscathed.

Your heart hammers in its cage when you feel his heavy arm settle over your shoulders. Your mouth falls open but Namgyu is already banging on the arched door with a closed fist. You flinch with every loud, metallic hit.

The little window opens to reveal a triangle-masked soldier. He stands there emotionless.

“My girlfriend's on her period- she's bleeding everywhere. We need the bathroom.”

There is silence from the Guard who is clearly unimpressed. Just before the little window is about to slide shut Namgyu kicks at the door, “Hey! I wanna fuck my girl- if you want, we could do it out here?!”

You try to wrench yourself out of his grip, toilet be damned but your heart absolutely sinks to find the pink soldier opening the metal door.

Namgyu only twirls, pumping his fist before pulling you in his arms, biting back a smile.

“Can't believe that worked,” Namgyu says, with a raised eyebrow and a happy little shrug as he drags you across the threshold. The trip to the women's bathroom is relatively short as you writhe and fight in his hands. There's virtually no reason for the pink guard to think any of this was consensual but they kept their stoicism on their face as you reached the girl's bathroom.

“We'll be quick,” Namgyu assures the guard with a tight sort of smile before pushing you into the bathroom, and closing the door after himself.

You trip on your way running into one of the stalls and he watches you, biting his nail.

“This is the girls bathroom, or are you too high to notice?” You hiss absolute venom as he bites his fingernail.

“Nah, I'm sober right now, which means I need something to take the load off.”

“Cool. Use your hand,” you sigh from within the stalls before dropping your pants to pee. It irked you that he was standing there, on the other side… waiting for you.

You make quick work of it all. Wiping, flushing, and making a beeline for the sinks. He lets you wash your hands but before you make it to the door his arms are wrapped around your waist.

“Uh Uh,” he tsks, “No ‘i miss you’ kiss, huh?” He drags you into his arms, kicking and screaming as he swipes your brains from across your panicked face.

“Only competent boyfriends get kisses,” Despite the fuss, the door doesn't open. Those guards have quite literally abandoned you in here to fend for yourself.

“I can make it up to you,” he said, “I miss you really bad, baby,” Namgyu's pushing your back against the sink, stained with that sickening, pastel colour as he lowers his nose into the crook of your neck. You writhe as he breathes you in deeply, before sighing. His erection pressed against your thigh.

“Someone else could walk in here,” you cry, feeling a dampness seep out of you, wetting your underwear. Your body was being traitorous because it was enjoying feeling anything other than fear. It yearned for it.

“Sto-” you attempt to catch your breath as he gropes at your breasts from over your tracksuit. “Stop touching me-” you say despite your legs getting weaker and weaker.

“You don't get to touch me anymore. You lost that privilege when you stopped being my boyfriend.” He was so much taller than you when he stretched his hand across your cheeks, forcing your neck back to make more space for his lips. A moan nearly spills out of you.

His hands are trembling and his tongue swipes out to lick the length of your neck. To your shock and horror, you melt in his grasp.

“You don't mean that-” he whispers against your skin. “No one's gonna fuck you like I do-”

“No one's going to steal my money like you do either-”

His hand flies down to your throat, choking as he says through clenched teeth, “I told you I had a problem-” he squeezes and for the briefest moment, you see stars. “I needed help and you abandoned me, you bitch-”

“I didn't abandon you-” His lips are on yours, silencing you in one messy kiss that him forcing his tongue into your mouth.

“You gonna be good for me, Huh?’ He says, hoarsely, your eyes glare up at him.

“Leave me alone-”

“You know I love it when you try to fight back,” his mouth breathes against your hair, “You trying to get me riled up babe, huh?”

His fingers find the lining of your own sweatpants and your heart stammers as he turns to push your front against the sink. Your hand grips at the cheap plaster and you avoid your own traitorous reflection in the mirror, lest you find not only fear in your eyes, but lust

“You know how bad I've needed this- fuck,” his voice cracks when fumbles his cock out, grinding against your ass with his eyes closed in ecstasy and his mouth hanging open. Your finger curls around the sink as the first moan slips out of you. It had his eyes flying open to look down at you in amusement and awe.

“I knew you weren't a completely stuck-up bitch,” he says, pulling you up by the base of the throat, “I knew you still wanted me.”

“I don't,” you squeak out as he pulls down your pants.

“No- but your body does,” he swipes your underwear to the side.

Your body spasms as he roughly sinks his digits into you once before pulling out.

“You miss me real bad,” he brings your fingers up in front of your face and your heart drops to find the arousal webbing his index and middle.

He continues to swipe your arousal from from your ass to your puffy clit and the need wracks through your entire body, building as you arched your ass backwards against him.

His mouth is by your ear, breathing heavily as he lines his cock up at your entrance, already leaking precum, “I know I gave you hell when we were out there-”

“Hell doesn't begin to cover- FUCK-” he rams his cock into you. Positively brimming with need as his hips stutter against you.

“Y-ou stole my fucking savings for drugs-” you get the sentence out quickly before moaning into the air, as your boyfriend fucks out all the frustration he's been carrying, all the need and the withdrawal.

“And I ate you out as an apology-” He reaches his hand around to clamp down on the base of your throat. Your mouth falls open when he cranes our neck back, his eyes boring into yours. “Don't you miss it baby, don't miss having me inside of you?”

“Y-Your eyes are diluted-” you begin to say, utterly incredulous. “You're high right now!”

His hips thrusts in shallow, quick strokes. “And your pussy's wet, guess we're both fucked.”

Your pussy tightens around him like a long lost friend, it knocks you out how deeply you've craved him. Needing reprieve from all the fear. “You're squeezing around my cock, you fucking slut-” that nearly has you seeing stars. Your body spasms.

“That it…” he whispers, “Don't think I haven't forgotten the way you abandoned me out there… But in here,” your eyes roll to the back of your head, “You dont so much as fucking breathe without my permission.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as his cock hits that particular pillow of nerves inside you, nearly flipping you off the edge.

“Spit on my hand,” he says, an edge to his voice that let you know he was far too close. You forgot how messy things got when you had sex with him. How much of a mess he made of you.

You do it without thinking about it and his eyes widen as he presses that same hand to your clit.

“F-Fuck!” Your eyes are squeezed shut as he reaches around to rub you to your orgasm. His movements only fumble when his hips start stuttering.

“N-Need you to cum for me-” he breathes out. “I’m jittery- baby. I need it- shit-” you slip into your orgasm right in front of him, milking his cock for all its worth. “F-Fuck this is so much better than drugs,” he murmers, eyes rolled back as a drunken smile ghosts over his face. He's in complete and utter euphoria.

Two rough knocks on the door signal the need for your return but Namgyu's cock is still spilling ropes of his cum inside you and you're doing nothing but taking it.

“I hate you,” you breathe out, because it's true. If it weren't for him you wouldn't be here.

His breath is warm against your neck as he says, “I love you too.

#squid game #squid game x reader #squid game fanfic #nam gyu #namgyu x reader #player 124 #player 124 x reader #namgyu smut #thanos x reader #thanos fanfic #nam gyu x reader #nam gyu smut

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nephynes · 23 days ago

Text

You thought things would calm down after the confessions, the crying, the sex. After fists were thrown and secrets dragged out into the open. But Jake is still mean, Sunghoon is still quiet, and now you're still stuck somewhere in the middle—aching for something that feels like love but tastes like possession.

• minors do not interact

• pairing: sunghoon x afab reader x jake

• part one here

• wc: 45k (yikes)

• content tags: SMUT, polyamory, angst, found family vibes, messy relationship dynamics, emotional hurt/comfort, intense group drama, mention of cheating, heavy emotional themes, jealousy, slut shaming, verbal degradation, crying, physical altercation, unhealthy coping mechanisms, complex feelings, mentions of sexuality, power imbalance, reader calls the boys hoonie and yunnie sometimes, mentions of enhypen’s jay, jungwon and heeseung and lesserafim’s yunjin and chaewon. not proofread.

WARNINGS: emotional whiplash, heavy angst, themes of cheating, heartbreak, yelling, crying, drinking, graphic, talks of weight loss/gain, depictions of sex, slut-shaming (called out), toxic relationships, emotional manipulation, intense emotional vulnerability, hurt/comfort, slow burn healing. please read with care 💕, also i need everyone to remember that this is FICTION!

• a/n: yes i know it took me forever to write this, yes it nearly emotionally destroyed me in the process and yes, i hope it emotionally destroys you too enjoy the chaos, again and the crying, and the filthy ass smut.

• story edit by @yujinoot

• nsfw warnings under the cut

threesome (mfm), established relationship, emotionally charged sex, oral (f and m receiving), praise kink, slight breeding kink, slight dacryphilia (crying during sex), anal, slight hair pulling, face sitting, spanking, themes of voyeurism, squirting, possession/claiming, lots of kissing and touching, switch!jake and dom!sunghoon, sub!reader, double the aftercare, shared bed, reader is doted on completely, lots of “mine” and “ours,” intense eye contact, and deep emotional intimacy wrapped in filth. let me know if i missed any.

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You weren't even supposed to come tonight. Again. You'd said as much when Sunghoon offered to pick you up, voice hushed over the phone, socked feet curled under you on the couch, saying, "I don't think I'm in a party mood." He didn't push. He never really does. He just said, "You'll be with us," like it was that simple. "It's someone's birthday, right?" you asked after a beat. "I don't even know the birthday boy."

"Jungwon won't mind." You blinked. "Who even is Jungwon?" And then, faintly, over the phone, not even on the call with you, Jake's voice rang out in the background like a war cry. "Ugh! Just come, Y/N!!"

So now you're here. Three drinks in and sunk into a velvet-cornered couch, nursing a half-empty cup while Jake makes eyes at you from across the room, he probably thinks you've been talking to Yunjin for too long now. You didn't even know she'd be here tonight. You're trying so desperately trying to listen to what she's saying, something about how things have changed with Heeseung, how he's not the same, how you’ve barely been at your apartment, but it's hard to when Jake's stare is making heat crawl up your spine. It's different now with you and him, with you and them. There's no official label, no posts or promises. Just this unspoken closeness, a quiet claiming that's bled into everything. It sits under your skin like warmth after a fever. You're still you, still the girl who people-watches from corners, still awkward when they touch you too long, but now, when Jake calls you pretty, you roll your eyes and tell him to shut up instead of looking away.

And he lives for it, he watches you the way you watch people, he notices you. Notices when you excuse yourself from Yunjin's presence and head to the kitchen. "You staring again, sweetheart?" Jake's voice cuts through the low music, dragging your attention away from the stranger in the corner who's been arguing with a girl in black boots for the past fifteen minutes. You blink up at him. He's leaning against the wall beside you now, eyes lazy, lips pink from whatever cocktail someone handed him earlier. His shirt is half-unbuttoned already.

"I wasn't staring," you mumble, even though you were. "I was observing." Jake laughs, that boyish little tilt of his head when he knows he's caught you in a lie. "Mm. Observing. Right." He reaches for your cup and takes a sip without asking, then makes a face. "What is that?"

"I don't know. Someone handed it to me and said it tasted like juice." Jake hums, leaning closer. "It tastes like trauma.” You hear Sunghoon snort as he approaches both of you and it makes your cheeks warm, not just from Jake's teasing, "I was watching that couple over there," you mutter, nodding toward the argument in the corner. Jake follows your gaze. "Oof. Been there." "You're so mean," you say, sipping from your cup just to have something to do with your hands. "I'm honest," he counters, brushing your hair out of your face. "You think he cheated?" Your eyes flick back to the couple. The girl's arms are crossed, the guy's face twisted in the kind of guilt you can't fake. "Definitely. He looks like he left his phone face-down one too many times." Jake hums in agreement, and then—"You know who else used to leave her phone face-down?" You glance at him, slow. "Who?" Jake's grin sharpens. "You." Your mouth parts, ready to protest, but he just winks, smug and playful, and says, "It's okay, baby. We already know you're the heartbreaker now."

"I am not—" you start, but you don't get to finish. Because Sunghoon, who's been silent the entire time, watching the exchange with a faint smirk, suddenly pulls you to his side and plants a kiss to the side of your head. You gasp, caught off guard, hand flying up to steady yourself against his chest. "You're letting him get cocky," Sunghoon murmurs near your ear. His voice is quiet and casual, but it melts down your spine. "He's gonna think you like him."

"I don't," you say, but it's breathless and Jake's grin widens like he knows better. "You so do," he says, brushing his fingers along the rim of your cup. "Admit it." Your face burns. Sunghoon chuckles beside you—a rare, genuine sound. "Let her breathe, Jaeyun. You're scaring her." "She likes when I scare her."

"I like when you shut up," you snap, heart thumping too fast—and both of them freeze. And then Jake's mouth drops open, affronted. "Oh, you've changed."

"I told you," Sunghoon murmurs, dragging his hand over the small of your back. It's new—all of it. The teasing, the way you don't fold under their attention anymore, not as easily. The way you lean into Sunghoon's chest like you belong there. Like you've finally accepted that, in some strange, broken way, you do. The music starts to shift to something bass-heavy and dark, pouring in from the open sliding doors that lead to the patio. You barely notice when Sunghoon moves. He's smooth like that, so quiet, so deliberate in the way he pulls you deeper into the house, away from the center of noise and heat. His palm stays at your lower back, anchoring you like a leash.

It's only when you blink and glance around that you realize the people around you have thinned. This side of the house is dimmer, quieter. A hallway leads off to what you assume is a guest bedroom, but you're tucked into a low couch that's slightly hidden by tall shelving and shadow. The music still thrums through the walls, but here, it's softer. Private. Sunghoon pulls you into his lap sideways—your legs draping across his thighs as he settles back, one arm slung across the back of the couch behind you, the other resting possessively on your outer thigh.

Jake flops down beside him, his knee bumping against yours, completely unfazed by the way you're curled into Sunghoon's body like a second skin. You feel dizzy, not from alcohol, but from the shift in atmosphere. From how real this feels. Jake's fingers trail lazily down your shin before they reach your ankle, his expression curious. "When'd you get these?" he asks, tone unreadable. You glance at him, confused. "You bought them." Jake's eyes lift. "I did?"

"Last week." He tilts his head, mouth twitching like he's somewhere between amused and disturbed. "Was I blacked out?"

"No," you say quietly, "you were just... distracted." Sunghoon exhales through his nose. You feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back. The silence that follows feels weighted. "I should introduce you to Jungwon," Sunghoon murmurs then, his voice almost lost in the thrum of the music spilling from the other end of the house. His hand slides higher up your thigh, not rushed, just steady. Intimate. Your fingers curl around his wrist. "Stop—people will see."

"So?"

"Yunjin might walk in."

Jake's jaw twitches. He leans forward, casually prying your hand off Sunghoon's like he's done it a hundred times. "Who gives a fuck about Yunjin," he mutters, eyes still on your foot, thumb brushing a slow line up your calf. "She always shows up uninvited anyway." The bitterness in his voice is quiet but undeniable. It slithers into your chest like smoke. "I don't want to meet Jungwon," you say, not even sure why. Jake shrugs. "He's harmless."

"He's also Jake's golden boy," Sunghoon adds. "Little too sweet. Makes me uncomfortable." You don't even have time to fully process what that means before Jake scoffs, fingers tightening a fraction where they're brushing your calf. "Says the one who fucked him," he mutters, not even looking up. You blink. "What?" The word slips out of you in a gasp before you can stop it. Your voice isn't loud, but it cuts straight through the air between all three of you. Sunghoon doesn't flinch. Doesn't blink. Just tilts his head slightly like the memory is irrelevant now. Jake finally meets your eyes. "Yeah. That's how it works with Hoon, baby. He breaks them in, and gets bored of them."

It's a joke. But not really. You glance at Sunghoon, expecting something—denial, annoyance, anything. But he just shrugs one shoulder, casual. "He was curious," he says simply, like he's talking about something as mundane as loaning someone a lighter. Jake snorts. "He was obsessed with you for weeks."

"And then he wasn't." Silence settles again. You sit there stunned, a little breathless, wrapped in Sunghoon's lap and Jake's stare, while this entire new side of their past unfurls around you. And now Jungwon is walking toward you, pretty and bright and completely unaware that you just found out both the man beneath you has slept with him. You don't know what shocks you more—the reveal, or how unbothered they are by it. "He's a literal angel," Jake says, annoyed. "And he's been asking about her." Before you can respond, someone steps into view. You glance up—startled by how young the boy looks. Pretty. Too clean. Too bright for the shadowed space you're in. Jake doesn't even look surprised. "Hi, birthday boy." Jungwon stops short when he sees you. And you see it. The shift. "Oh," he says, his voice soft with wonder. "Are you...Y/N?" The way he says your name, like he already knows it. Like he's said it before, makes you stiffen slightly.

Jake smiles, slow. "Told you she was real." Jungwon looks at you like you're unreal anyway. "I've... heard a lot about you," he says gently. Sunghoon hasn't said a word. But his hand is still on your thigh. His fingers tap twice—almost like a warning. You try to remember how to breathe. "Happy birthday," you say finally, voice small. Jungwon smiles. "This might be the best part of it." You don't know what to say to that. You don't look at Jake and you don't dare look at Sunghoon. It hits you all at once—how this thing between the three of you lives just under the surface. Like a current humming in the walls. Invisible, but undeniable. And Jungwon, for all his innocence, is standing at the edge of it. Jake lets out a small sound. Not quite a laugh. "C'mon, Wonnie. Don't be creepy." Jungwon scratches the back of his neck, flushed. "Sorry. Just... surprised."

You nod, almost imperceptibly. You feel like a surprise too. An anomaly in this world you're still not sure you belong in. But they keep pulling you deeper, neither of them ever ask if you're ready. You're starting to think they don't care. Jungwon fits in too easily, you think. He stays after the introductions, laughter light in his voice and gaze too warm when it lands on Jake. The way he leans closer when Jake talks, how he seems to know exactly how to make him laugh. Their rhythm is natural, almost flirtatious but familiar and you're not sure what that says about anything. It's not just the ease between them, it's the way Jungwon looks at you sometimes, asking questions like he genuinely wants to know the answers. You can't meet his eyes when he does, you kind of just stare just past his shoulder, nod a little too much, sip your drink like it'll save you. Sunghoon notices. His palm smooths up your side, and he leans in, his lips brushing your ear when he murmurs, "Why won't you look at him?" You hesitate, maybe you'll lie or tell the truth. But then you see it—just beyond Sunghoon's shoulder, in the dim-lit corner of the living room.

Yunjin. Arguing with Heeseung. They're too far for you to hear anything, but her hands are moving fast, her expression sharp with something that doesn't belong at a birthday party. Heeseung's jaw is tight, head ducked, like he's trying to keep things quiet. You shift, body twitching in instinct. Sunghoon's lap suddenly feels like too much. You move to rise, but his hand presses against your thigh, holding you there like a lock. "Don't," he says lowly. Your breath catches. "I just—" But it's too late, Yunjin's eyes snap in your direction. You feel it before you see it—the freeze, the flicker of disdain that crosses her face. She's still mid-sentence with Heeseung, but her attention splinters, zeroing in on you, not just you, but you nestled in Sunghoon's lap like it's second nature, while Jake absentmindedly rubs circles into the arch of your foot, his fingers tangled around the heel he just remembered buying you. She looks at you like she's witnessing something sordid. Her lip curls before she catches herself.

Jake follows your gaze, eyes flicking to Yunjin. "Tch," he breathes out, a wry smirk forming. "Oh no. She's short-circuiting." Sunghoon doesn't say anything. He just tugs you a little closer, turning your body inward, his hand resting between your legs like it belongs there. You feel exposed. Not just physically, emotionally, like someone's cracked the glass and now everyone can see the dirt beneath. "She's gonna say something," you whisper. "Let her," Jake says, not even looking away from the way his fingers trace the shape of your ankle. "She was never good at behaving herself anyway." You don't know what he means by that, but you don't get the chance to ask. Because Yunjin is already making her way toward you, and Sunghoon hasn't let go of your thigh. And suddenly you remember why you never liked parties in the first place. She walks up like a storm that forgot how to be subtle, heels sharp against the marble as her eyes fix on you with a kind of disbelief that makes your stomach churn.

"What's this?" Yunjin demands, voice cutting clean through the music and conversation like it was always meant to be heard. "I'm sorry, I'm just—confused." You blink at her, already shrinking in Sunghoon's lap, but he doesn't let you move. His hand on your thigh tightens just slightly. "I mean..." She gestures vaguely, like the sight of you is something foul. "Weren't they—harassing you? Not that long ago? And now you're perched on him like some little—"

She falters. Her jaw clenches and you brace. "...Whore."

It's not even yelled. It's worse—it's quiet, mean and even measured. You gasp, feeling you whole body go cold all over, your mouth parting in shock. She's never spoken to you like that. Not in all your life. Not even when you fought as kids and now you don't even know what to say.

Sunghoon does. "Be careful," he says flatly, but the threat is unmistakable beneath his calm. Yunjin's head snaps toward him, fury building in the curve of her brow. "What is this? Huh?" She scoffs bitterly. "Are you fucking my cousin?" She says it loud enough for the room to tilt. Jake, who'd been lazily toying with the buckle on your heel, leans back on one elbow and smirks. "Why do you care so much?" It hits a nerve. You see it happen—Yunjin's entire body stills for a half-second, her expression shifting just enough that something unsettles in your chest. Like there's a history here you don't know, a door you've never been allowed to open. She covers quickly. "Because Heeseung will kill you," she says, pointing toward Sunghoon. "You know he will. If he finds out." Sunghoon's gaze drifts, slow and unfazed, to where Heeseung still stands where she left him, hands in his pockets, eyes watching but unreadable. "Hm," he hums. "He doesn't really look like he cares." Jake snorts. "Yeah, we were thinking the same. Pretty sure there's something else he'd actually care about." He says it at the exact moment Heeseung begins walking over. You feel it happen in slow motion—the drop in Yunjin's shoulders, the way her breath stalls, the look she throws Jake like he just put a loaded gun on the table and dared someone to pull the trigger.

You glance around. Jungwon, who had been sitting nearby, freezes where he is. His eyes flick between everyone, between you, Jake, Sunghoon, Yunjin, then down to his drink like it might explain what the fuck he just walked into. He's the only other person, besides you, not folded into whatever war is quietly being waged in plain sight.

Yunjin's voice is thin now. "Don't."

Heeseung's steps are slow and Jake's still smirking, but Sunghoon has gone still beneath you, like a predator who sees the snare coming. And you? You can feel your pulse in your throat, making you feel like something is about to break. Heeseung walks up like he didn't just argue with Yunjin in the hallway moments ago, like he didn't nearly rip his watch strap off adjusting it too tightly, jaw still twitching beneath the calm. "Hey," he greets, nodding at the three of you. His voice is level, his tone careful—too casual for the way his eyes keep flicking between where you're curled in Sunghoon's lap and where Jake is still playing idly with the ankle strap of your heel. Sunghoon speaks before anyone else can. "Heeseung," he says, calm as a lake, one hand sliding leisurely up your hip. "I'm kind of with Y/N now. Is that okay?" And then, he thrusts his hips up, enough to jostle you in his lap, enough to make a surprised squeak escape your lips. The sheer shamelessness of it makes Jake bark out a laugh, head tipping back against the couch.

Heeseung blinks. Once. A breath passes. Then, slowly, his brows lift—not in outrage, not in disapproval, but with a vague kind of curiosity. "Uh... sure?" He shrugs, as if that was all it took. "Yeah. Congrats or whatever.” Yunjin's face crumbles. She whirls to face him. "Are you serious right now?" Jake tilts his head, all mock-innocence. "See, Yunjin?" he says. "He doesn't care. So why do you?" That's the final nail. You can see it hit her all at once—the humiliation, the realization that whatever reaction she thought she could provoke just isn't coming. Not from Heeseung or any of them.

She doesn't say a word. Just spins on her heel and storms off, shoving through the crowd like she can disappear if she moves fast enough. You jolt, instinct kicking in. "I should—"

"No," Sunghoon says simply, tightening his hold. "You're not chasing after someone who just called you a whore." You freeze. He says it so calmly, like it's fact, like it's beneath even arguing about. Jake lets out a low hum beside you, fingers now trailing soft circles along the arch of your foot. "Sunghoon's right," he murmurs. "She said what she said." You exhale shakily. But then—Heeseung shifts, shoves his hands in his pockets and gives Sunghoon a look. "Can I talk to you for a sec?"

Sunghoon doesn't even hesitate. He lifts you without a word and places you in Jake's lap like you weigh nothing, like it's second nature. Jake grins, catching you easily, one arm looping around your waist. Heeseung doesn't even look twice. Not at the transfer, at you or at the soft gasp you let out when Jake's hand settles over the front of your stomach like it belongs there. He just turns and walks off, Sunghoon falling into step beside him. The second they're gone, Jake presses a kiss behind your ear. You don't even realize you're still tense until he speaks—low, warm, curling through you. "You okay, baby?" You nod, even though your chest feels tight, nerves still rattled. Jake pinches your inner thigh lightly. "You didn't even notice Jungwon's gone, huh?"

You glance at him. "What?" You blink, gaze flicking around. It's true. You hadn't even noticed him leave. Jake grins, sharp and too pleased with himself. "You've been too busy dripping all over Sunghoon's jeans to notice anything." You start to protest, but then his voice drops, low and filthy against your ear. "I know you're soaked. I could see it every time he moved his hand. You were clenching your thighs so tight for what, baby? You think we're not gonna take care of that the second we get you home?" Your breath hitches as you feel his smirk against your cheek. "Yeah. That's what I thought." Your breath stutters, lips parting like maybe you'll deny it or maybe beg, but Jake doesn't give you the chance. His hand trails from your thigh up, up, and then he slips his fingers between your legs.

Right there in his lap, under the sheer fabric of your dress, his fingertips press against your panties, soaked through, warm and slick with want. You jolt, eyes widening. Jake just hums, like he's satisfied with himself. His fingers don't linger. He gives one slow stroke and pulls away, eyes dark as he raises his hand up to show you the dampness on his fingers. "You don't even know what you do to us," he says softly. "Look at this. Fuck." You flush so hard it burns, mouth open but no words coming out. Jake leans in, brushing his lips to the shell of your ear, the faintest trace of amusement in his voice. "Think Sunghoon felt this too when you were grinding all over him like that?" He presses a kiss to your cheek. "You're lucky we're in public, baby."

Jake's fingers still glisten when he lifts them and you know what he's about to do before he even does it. You shake your head, weakly, breath caught somewhere between protest and anticipation. But he's already slipping his fingers into his mouth, eyes never leaving yours. His lips close around them with slow deliberation, tongue curling, sucking your taste off with a soft pop when he pulls them out again. He looks wrecked—pupils blown, lips parted, smiling like he's just won something. You're barely holding on, heart thudding in your throat, when a shadow falls over the two of you.

"Wanna head out?" Sunghoon's voice cuts in smoothly, low and direct, like he didn't just interrupt something that was about to spiral. "I've got something to handle with Heeseung, but I'll meet you at home." Jake answers before you can even breathe. "Yes," he says quickly, hand already sliding possessively over your knee. "We're going." But you hesitate, glancing up at Sunghoon, eyes searching his unreadable expression. Something about the way he said handle something makes your stomach twist. And maybe you don't realize it, but you're biting your lip, worried. Sunghoon notices. His features soften almost imperceptibly as he leans down just a bit, voice dipping into something only you'll catch.

"It's alright, baby," he murmurs. "Go with Jake. I'll meet you at home." He presses a kiss to your temple, warm, reassuring and final, he straightens, already walking off before you can argue. Jake's hand slides up your back and pulls you in closer.

"You worry too much," he mutters, almost smug again now that Sunghoon's gone. "C'mon. I already need you again." And just like that, the air shifts again. The front door clicks shut behind you and Jake doesn't waste a second. His hand wraps around your wrist firmly, leading you out of the house like you're on borrowed time. You cast one last glance over your shoulder. The house is still humming behind you. Music bleeding into the night air. Voices echoing off the brick. But Sunghoon's already gone, disappeared somewhere deeper inside with Heeseung, and the absence of him makes everything around you feel a little too loud. A little too chaotic.

Jake doesn't say a word until you're outside. He unlocks his blue Jeep Wrangler with one sharp click, opens the passenger side for you, and ushers you in with a look that borders on don't test me. You scramble in, clutching the hem of your dress when it rides up, only to feel Jake's hand on your thigh again the moment he slides into the driver's seat. He doesn't start the car right away. You feel his eyes on you first, burning, frustrated, reverent. Then his hand slides higher, then higher, until his knuckles brush just beneath your dress. "You're still wet," he mutters, more to himself than to you. You nod before you even realize it.

His head thumps back against the headrest and he groans. "Fuck, I can't—Hoon’s so fucking slow about everything. I don't know how he does it. You were in my lap for two seconds and I almost lost it." You try to tease him, "You always almost lose it." But he's not laughing. He leans in suddenly, hand sliding to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss that's messy and rushed and a little too hot for the passenger seat of his car. You whimper into his mouth and Jake swears against your lips. "I was about to fuck you right there in front of him." Your breath catches. "He just sits there. Like composed. Like he didn't watch me taste you with his fingers in your mouth last week—like he doesn't know." He shakes his head, pulling back only slightly, thumb dragging along your bottom lip.

"I'm not like him, you know?" he says, quieter now. "I don't do that... waiting shit. I want you now." The engine roars to life under his hand. "Seatbelt," he adds, but it sounds more like a growl than a reminder. You barely manage to click it in before he's backing out of the driveway, one hand on the wheel, the other firmly gripping your thigh. Streetlights flicker across his face as he speeds down the empty road, and you catch the way his jaw clenches—tight, impatient. Jake is chaos, restless, always on the verge of something dangerous, Sunghoon is a storm you never see coming. And you’re stuck in the middle as the fuse between them.

Jake doesn't even bother locking the Jeep when you arrive. He's out and rounding the car before you've even reached for the handle, pulling your door open with one hand and tugging you toward the building with the other. There's urgency in everything he does—his pace, his touch, the way his fingers keep twitching against your wrist like he's resisting the urge to stop and press you up against the elevator wall. The second the door to their apartment swings open, it hits the wall with a thud. Jake doesn't care. He's already kissing you. Clumsy. Messy. His mouth finds yours the moment you're inside, and he moans into it like he's already losing control. It's not a soft sound. It's greedy, almost needy. You can feel how badly he wants it, how wrecked he already is just from kissing you. He's all hands—up your sides, over your hips, under your dress. You barely get a word in before your feet leave the ground.

"Jake—" you gasp, arms winding around his neck as he lifts you. "I got you," he breathes, kissing along your jaw now, stumbling toward the hallway. "Fuck—I got you, baby." The walk through the apartment is clumsy at best. Jake's grip on your waist is iron-tight, his mouth never straying far from your neck, pressing wet kisses under your ear, murmuring things that don't even make sense, just sounds of want, of need, of everything he's been holding in all night. His fingers fumble with the zipper of your dress, like he doesn't know whether to undress you here in the hallway or wait until the bedroom.

"Why are you so—fuck—soft everywhere?" he mutters against your throat, and it's half accusation, half worship. "You know I can't handle it." He kicks the bedroom door open, not even his own, you realize hazily, as your back hits the edge of Sunghoon's bed. Your breath catches in your throat, but Jake doesn't notice. Or maybe he does, and he just doesn't care.

His hands are already dragging your dress up your thighs. "You wore this for me, didn't you?" he breathes, like he needs to believe it. "Tell me you did."

Your lips part, but the words come out soft. "I did."

Jake stares at you in awe like you just handed him the heavens and the earth. "I fucking love you." You can't even respond before his mouth is back on yours, his hands sliding down the backs of your thighs, gripping tight. He groans as he lifts you and lays you back on the bed, one knee braced between yours, nudging your legs apart. He hovers above you, forehead to forehead, breathing heavy. His eyes are blown out with want, but he's not moving fast now, not anymore. Now, he's just looking at you. "Do you even know," he says, "how fucking pretty you are when you let me in like this?"

He runs a palm down your side, slow and firm, until his fingers skim the hem of your panties. He doesn't yank them off, not yet, just traces the edge, pressing the lightest touch where you ache most. You jerk under his touch. Jake moans at your reaction. "Shit. That's all it takes, huh?"

He dips his fingers under the fabric and slides them between your folds, slow, testing, and groans when he feels the wetness pooling there. "Oh my God." The groan that leaves him is obscene. "Sunghoon's gonna kill me," he mutters, half-laughing as he leans down and kisses your cheek, your jaw, your collarbone. "But I don't care. I can't wait anymore. Can't." He's talking more to himself now, barely coherent. Then he's falling back onto the bed, eyes glassy, lips red, his voice lower now, almost pleading. "Come here." He tugs you closer by your hips. "Sit on my face."

You blink. "What?" Jake lets out a breathless laugh, voice curling into a grin even as his eyes burn serious. "You heard me. Don't act shy now, not after the way you were whispering in Hoon's ear with his hand on your thigh like that." You feel your heart pound, legs unsteady. "Jake—"

"I wanna make you feel good," he says. "Need to. Don't you get it? I'll lose my mind if I don't taste you right now." He's so eager. So sincere in the worst way. You try to keep your balance as he pulls you up over him, backlit by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Jake's hands never leave your body, dragging you gently forward until your knees are planted beside his head, thighs trembling with anticipation. He looks up at you like you're everything he's ever wanted. "Please," he whispers, eyes locking with yours. "Be good for me."

Your breath catches as you lower yourself slowly onto him, and Jake groans the moment your heat grazes his tongue, hands gripping your thighs like you're divine, like he's anchoring himself to reality through you alone. Jake looks up at you from below like he's been waiting for this, like nothing else truly matters. His fingers trail up the back of your thighs slowly, not rushing, not even speaking. Just waiting for you to settle into place. The warmth of his breath against your skin makes your stomach flutter, nerves tight and trembling. You lower yourself gradually, hesitant, but he doesn't pull—just holds you steady, his hands open and patient on your hips. The moment your pussy brushes his lips, he exhales like he's been holding his breath for minutes.

You're not sure when your hands found his hair, but they do, threading in soft, slow strokes through the strands as his mouth opens against you. At first, it's light, just the gentle press of his lips and the lazy flick of his tongue, almost like he's memorizing. His grip tightens, grounding you with just enough pressure to keep you still. "Ah!—Ja—"

He groans lowly, the sound vibrating against your skin, and it makes your entire body shudder. His hands flex at your hips, encouraging you to move, more, deeper, harder. "Yeah, that's it," he murmurs, breathless against you. "Just like that... come on." Your thighs tighten around his head as you grind down again, unable to help the shaky moan that slips from your lips. "Jake! Please!" He doesn't let up. If anything, he holds you tighter, more devoted in the way he pulls you closer, like he can't bear even an inch of distance between his mouth and the warm pulse of your body. Every breath is shaky, every movement desperate. Your legs tense. You can't help the way you shift forward, barely grinding down into his mouth, and he responds with a hum so soft you almost miss it. His arms wrap fully around your waist now, anchoring you closer. He starts to move you, slow and controlled, as if he's savoring the weight of you, the way you tremble. There's a quiet desperation in the way he works his mouth against you—never frantic, but focused. His eyes flutter shut, brow creasing in concentration. The kind of devotion he shows you in this moment feels dangerous. Like he's addicted, like nothing else could ever be enough.

Your breathing hitches as your hips move again, your choice this time, and his hands slide further, brushing up your back, fingers pressing lightly between your shoulder blades. The gesture is tender, grounding. He doesn't say anything else, but the look in his eyes when they open again is a plea. You grip tighter to his hair, tilting his head just so. You whisper something—his name, maybe, or just a broken sound—and his mouth chases the movement of your body like instinct. "Jakey! Uh uhn," you gasp, "I'm—I'm so close," you whisper, arching as the pressure builds. His palms smooth up your spine in a steady rhythm, anchoring you, calming and arousing all at once. And when you shake in his hold, trembling, he just tilts his face up, unbothered and patient, and takes every last ounce of you with a quiet, satisfied hum, not even flinching when you press down and shudder through it, clutching at.

You barely realize he hasn't taken a breath until he finally exhales, lips still brushing warm against your skin, his fingers still stroking softly at your waist like he's in no rush to let you go. "Jaeyun—" you breathe, already trembling from the comedown, but he doesn't stop. His hand stays right there, coaxing another slow rise from you, pulling your pleasure taut again. "I'm not done," he murmurs, voice rough and hungry. He kisses up your thigh as you lift off him slightly, still panting, still dazed. He's flushed, lips wet, eyes darker than you've ever seen them. "C'mere," he says, guiding you down to straddle his lap this time, pulling you into a deep, messy kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue, feel the eager pull of his hands under your thighs as he ruts up slowly against you, still fully clothed.

That's when the door opens, making the air shift instantly. Jake doesn't stop kissing you, not at first. He moans into your mouth, lost in it, until he hears the soft click of the door closing again behind whoever walked in. And then a quiet voice breaks the haze, "So this is what I come home to?" You jolt, your head turning, lips still slick from Jake's mouth, and your eyes meet Sunghoon's. He's leaning against the wall like he's been standing there longer than you realized. His eyes are dark, unreadable, drifting slowly from your flushed face to the way Jake's hands are gripping your waist. You suddenly feel everything, the sticky mess between your thighs, the sharp press of Jake's belt buckle under you, the faint tremble in your knees.

Jake sighs against your shoulder, lazy and smug. "You said to take her home." Sunghoon hums, not in amusement or anger, but something in between, something sharp and quiet. "I didn't say ruin her in my bed." You feel Jake's fingers flex where they rest on your hips, but he doesn't argue. He just grins. "You're the one who said she looked pretty tonight," Jake says, his voice low. "You should've known better."

There's a pause. You can't look at either of them. Then, "Did she cum?" Sunghoon asks. The question makes your stomach tighten, shame blooming in your chest. But Jake only chuckles, tilting his head to look up at you, brushing his thumb over the curve of your cheek. "She did," he says softly. "But I think she could do it again, don't you?" Sunghoon pushes off the wall. The way he walks over is unhurried. The way he looks at you is careful, like he's deciding what to do with you now. His hand brushes your arm, fingers skating up the side of your neck until he tilts your chin toward him. Jake doesn't move, he just watches, eyes half-lidded, breath slowing. "You okay?" Sunghoon asks you.

You nod.

"Words."

"Yes." He studies you for a second longer. Then he leans in, not to kiss you, but to press his lips to the corner of your mouth. Gentle and possessive. "Good," he murmurs. "Now get off him." Jake lets out a frustrated breath, but he doesn't fight it cause he knows Sunghoon is in control now. His hands don't leave your waist though. You feel the way he twitches beneath you, the faint roll of his hips like he's chasing friction, even now. He wants you, he always wants you, but it's Sunghoon's presence that stills him. That centers the room again. Sunghoon stands just behind, one hand sliding into his pocket, his other resting lightly on the edge of the bedframe. "Were you going to make her ride you?" he asks Jake quietly. Jake glances up at you, then back to Sunghoon. There's no guilt, just honesty. "Yeah."

Sunghoon hums, slow and deep. His gaze cuts to you.

"She looks tired." You blink. "I'm not—"

"Shh," he interrupts, not unkindly, and brings a finger to his lips. "I didn't ask." Jake watches you with blown pupils, his chest rising and falling like he's just run a mile. He doesn't say anything, just waits. Sunghoon's voice dips a little lower. "Do it right, Jaeyun." Jake groans at that, like the words alone are a reward. He sits up just slightly, lips brushing your collarbone, eyes fluttering closed at the praise. "Yes, sir," he murmurs, almost to himself.

"And be gentle with her. Okay?" You feel the flush race up your chest, spreading over your neck, your ears. Jake presses his mouth to your shoulder like he's trying to calm himself down, whispering soft nothings between the kisses. "I can ride him, Hoonie" you say quietly, voice shaky but sincere. "I want to. I'm not—"

Sunghoon tilts his head, dark eyes narrowing just slightly as he moves closer. His fingers brush your chin again, thumb pressing against your bottom lip this time. "No," he murmurs. "Not this time." He leans down, mouth nearly grazing your ear. "Let Jake take care of you, hm?"

Your breath catches, knees tightening on either side of Jake's hips. Jake notices. He grins and cups the back of your thigh, fingers slipping higher. "Lay back, baby," Jake says, voice still rough from earlier. "Let me take care of you." You're melting into it before you even know it, back arching, thighs trembling, the room closing in around just the three of you. Sunghoon still hasn't sat down, still hasn't touched beyond your face, but you can feel the weight of his presence like a second heat. Jake guides you down with gentle hands and even gentler eyes, and you hear him whisper against your neck, "Perfect girl." And behind him, Sunghoon finally speaks again, quiet and unwavering.

"Don't stop until she cries."

Jake settles over you like a promise, warm, flushed, breathing heavily as he kisses his way down your jaw. You feel every bit of him, the heat of his body pressed against yours, the roughness of his voice murmuring in your ear as his fingers trail over your waist. "So fucking soft," he breathes, kissing down your throat. Across the room, the old leather chair creaks. You tilt your head just enough to catch a glimpse of Sunghoon lowering himself into it, one long leg crossing over the other, fingers laced loosely in his lap. He doesn't say anything, you know he doesn't need to. The atmosphere changes the moment he sits down. Jake feels it too, you can tell by the way his hands still on your body for just a second, by the deep breath he takes against your shoulder before looking over his shoulder and locking eyes with Sunghoon.

Then he turns back to you, slower now. "Look at me," he says softly. His fingers brush your cheek. "You with me, baby?" You nod. "Good girl." He kisses you, open-mouthed and heady, and as he shifts down between your legs again, he parts them with careful hands like he's opening a gift. His cock rubs between your folds, and he groans, low and ragged. "Fuck, so wet," he murmurs, dragging himself through the mess he already made earlier, and glancing back toward Sunghoon again. "She's dripping." Sunghoon gives a slow nod. "She should be." Jake doesn't need more instruction than that. He lines himself up and rests his weight on one forearm, his free hand still petting your thigh, brushing hair from your face. His lips ghost over your ear. "Tell me if it's too much," he says.

You nod again, voice gone somewhere too far to reach. He pushes in slowly, so slowly, keeping eye contact with you until you gasp and clutch his shoulders. "Fuck—" Jake moans, lips parting as he bottoms out, hips shaking just a little. "You feel unreal. So warm, so tight—fuck." You hear the leather shift again. Sunghoon's watching. You know he is, but he hasn't said anotner word. Jake pulls back, then rocks in again, shallow, precise thrusts that make your legs tighten around his waist.

His voice breaks again. "Taking me so good, princess. So good. You were made for this, you know that? This pussy—fuck, it's ours." He leans down, presses a kiss to your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. "I need you," he whispers. "So bad. Always do." His pace is unhurried but deep, dragging every inch of himself through you, letting you feel everything. One of his hands slips between your bodies, finding your clit, pressing soft, slow circles. You gasp, hips jumping. "Oh shit!"

"That's it," he pants. "Let me make you cum. Come on, pretty girl. Just for me." You cry out softly, fingers digging into his back, and behind him, he knows you're close and he moans like he's proud, like it's the highest compliment he's ever received. He kisses you hard. "You're so good for me. You gonna cum, baby? Gonna soak me?" You nod frantically, the build-up sharp and fast, pressure mounting under his hand, under his hips. The moment's stretching, tightening, ready to snap. And as it does, Jake groans your name, holding you through it as your legs shake and your eyes squeeze shut.

But through your moans and breathless whimpers, you still hear Sunghoon, steady, observant, and controlled.

"Think you can give him another one?" Jake's body is already moving, hips rolling into you with a steady, deliberate rhythm, but now his eyes keep straying, flicking toward the chair in the corner where Sunghoon sits, silent and composed. The man hasn't said anotner word, but he doesn't really have to. Just being there changes the way Jake touches you, the way he moves inside you.

At first, it had been about you, about the way your lips parted, the way you whispered his name in breathless moans. But now Jake's losing focus. His breath stutters every time he feels Sunghoon's gaze on him, burning low and unreadable. Jake starts fucking you harder without realizing it, like he's performing now, or proving something. The weight of Sunghoon's silence makes him want to impress. You notice the shift too, how Jake goes deeper, the way he grits his teeth. His hand wraps tighter around your thigh. He's chasing something, and it's not just your second orgasm. He groans again, forehead brushing against yours, and you feel how wound up he is. It's not just need, there's reverence there.

Jake had never considered himself submissive, well that was until he met Sunghoon. To Jake, there just seemed to be something about Sunghoon that made him want to be that way for him, made him want to do everything Sunghoon said, even before he said it. If Jake believed in religion, Sunghoon would be his god, maybe that would explain why he's currently fucking his cock into you but his mind is elsewhere. His mind is entirely on Sunghoon in particular, where he's sat across the bed from you two. Jake is moaning like it hurts, he's starving for praise like that might be the only thing keeping him alive.

"Sunghoon," he gasps, hips rocking into you with enough force to jolt the headboard, "fuck—look at me. Please—please look at me." Sunghoon doesn't flinch. He's still. Unbothered. Sitting in the corner chair like he's been there forever, long legs spread now, jaw in his hand, eyes flicking lazily across the room—but not to Jake. Never to Jake. Jake whines, desperate and pretty, breath fanning across your collarbone as he buries himself deeper, chasing something he'll never get from the man who made him this way. "Am I doing it right?" he pants, fucking you harder. "Tell me I'm doing it right—tell me I'm good—please—"

Sunghoon hums. His gaze lands on you this time. Controlled. Careful. "You're such a slut for praise, Jake," he says, voice low and faintly amused. "Shouldn't you be asking her that?" And Jake does. So fast. So broken. "Baby—" His voice cracks. "Am I good? Am I making you feel good?" You try to answer, lips parting on a moan—but Sunghoon stops you before a sound can fall. "Don't answer him." Your body tightens under Jake's, your back arching instinctively toward the voice that denies and commands you.

And Jake feels it. "Fuck," he grits, pulling back to look at your face, but you're already looking past him. Already whining for someone else.

It doesn't matter that Jake had already pulled two orgasms out of you, with his mouth, with his words, with the frantic way his fingers curled like he was searching for something only Sunghoon could name. It doesn't matter that you're still trembling underneath him, that your skin is hot and your limbs boneless from how hard you came the last time.

Because now Sunghoon is here. Watching. And somehow that makes everything feel different. Jake feels it too, the shift in the air, the weight of Sunghoon's presence behind every stroke. He's still buried deep inside you, his chest slick and flushed, and his pace is no longer thoughtful or controlled. It's gone, whatever composure he had left. His thrusts are rough now, fast and unforgiving, like he's trying to chase something only Sunghoon can give him permission to have. "Jake," you breathe, nails dragging lightly down his back as he keeps rutting into you. "Wait—" You whimper again, barely able to breathe through the rhythm, your body rocked back into the bed with every movement. "Slow down, please—" But he doesn't, he probably doesn't even hear you.

His hand fists the sheets beside your head, and his other grabs your thigh and hikes it higher like he needs more of you, like he could crawl inside you and still not get enough. That's when your head tilts, eyes catching the one person who always sees everything. Sunghoon hasn't moved from the chair. His elbows are on the armrests now, fingers steepled under his chin. He looks calm, maddeningly calm, but you know better.

Your eyes plead with him silently, lips parted, breath shaky. One more thrust from Jake and you gasp, "Hoon—" It's barely a whisper. But it's all he really needs.

In an instant, Sunghoon is up. He doesn't raise his voice. He doesn't even look at Jake at first. He comes to your side, brushing his knuckles softly over your cheek, grounding you before turning his head to the man still buried inside you. "That's enough," he says, voice low but firm. Controlled. Jake stills. It's like a switch flips in him—his hips freezing, his chest heaving with ragged breaths, but his eyes glassy as they lock onto Sunghoon like he's been waiting for that command all along. "I didn't mean to," Jake mumbles, his voice hoarse and desperate. "I know," Sunghoon replies, cool and quiet, like he's the only one in the room who understands Jake completely. He slips his hand down, gentle where Jake was frenzied, fingers brushing over your thigh and easing it down. "But she asked you to slow down. Didn't she?"

Jake swallows hard, nodding like a reprimanded boy.

Sunghoon's hand lingers on your knee. "You alright, love?" You nod back, heart thudding, already calmer just from his presence. Jake's still inside you, but now he isn't moving, he’s waiting, watching Sunghoon like he needs permission to breathe. That's when it becomes clear to you like it always does—Jake might be the one fucking you, but it's Sunghoon who hold all the power. And he always has been.

"I can keep going," you whisper, still catching your breath, voice fragile but filled with certainty. "I want to." Jake exhales like he's been given permission to live again, but you're not looking at him. Your eyes are locked on Sunghoon. "I want you to touch me too," you say, barely above a breath. Your fingers curl at the sheets, as if grounding yourself to keep from pulling him in by force. "Please."

It's the only word that finally breaks him. You see the moment his composure wavers, his eyes flinch, his jaw tightens, and for the first time tonight, Sunghoon hesitates. He's never been able to deny you anything. Not when you ask like that. Not when your voice sounds that soft, that raw. A long silence stretches between the three of you, thick with your need, Jake's restless grip still holding your hips in place, and Sunghoon's stare flickering across your face, from your eyes, to your swollen lips, to the soft, quivering part of you that just begged for him.

Then, finally, Sunghoon gives a quiet nod. "Get on top," he murmurs, voice steady again, but you can feel the shift underneath it. Jake nearly groans in relief as you move, lifting your legs and sliding up to straddle him. His hands find your thighs immediately, squeezing like he's been starving, but it's your eyes on Sunghoon again, watching him sit at the edge of the bed now, close enough to touch, close enough to kiss.

And so he does. The first press of his mouth to yours makes your whole body flinch, not in surprise, but in something sharper. His lips are slow, claiming, so deep that you feel your toes curl as your hips rock down on Jake. Jake's moans muffle in your throat as Sunghoon kisses you again. And again. Every time you roll your hips forward on Jake, Sunghoon meets you with his mouth. His tongue slides past your lips like he's determined to keep you tethered to him no matter who's inside of you. The heat of Jake's hands, the way he moves beneath you, it all melts together in the haze of Sunghoon's kiss.

You try to reach for more of him, hands desperate at the hem of his shirt, tugging, frustrated that he's still fully clothed while you're bare, being touched and watched and used. Your fingertips find the warm skin under the fabric, sliding under his shirt, desperate to feel more. Sunghoon doesn't stop you. He lets you feel. Lets you explore. Even if he hasn't moved to undress, even if he's holding back, you aren't. And your hips don't stop moving. Not once. You ride Jake slow, languid, your rhythm set by the rise and fall of Sunghoon's mouth on yours, the ebb and flow of his tongue pulling you under like a tide. It makes you dizzy, being loved like this by one man while kissing the other, being watched and touched and given the space to want everything.

And god, you want everything.

Jake pants beneath you, clutching at your thighs like he might fall through the mattress, and you never break the kiss, not even as you start to tremble again, not even as Sunghoon finally whispers, voice low against your lips, "Just like that, princess." You barely realize how fast it's building again until your thighs begin to shake. Jake's grip on you has turned possessive, hands gripping your hips like he's guiding you through the end of the world. He's a mess beneath you, all panting breaths and ruined whimpers, his head thrown back against the pillow as he mouths your name like a prayer he's barely worthy of.

And you, you're still tangled in Sunghoon. His lips trail slow and steady along your jaw now, your neck, your shoulder, mouth warm and coaxing even as his hands stay maddeningly still on your thighs, letting Jake have you while he simply watches. Letting you ache for more of him, and only giving you his voice in return. "You're so perfect," he murmurs against your skin. "So, so pretty when you take it like this." Jake's moan cuts through the room high, broken. “Nghh—I—M’gonna cum!” You can feel the tension coil in him, that telltale snap of his rhythm turning erratic beneath you. He's close. You know it. Sunghoon knows it too.

"Look at him," Sunghoon murmurs in your ear, dragging his lips just below it, "he's already breaking." And Jake is, shaking, crying out, hips jolting up once, twice, a third time before he completely breaks under you, spilling inside with a noise so wrecked it makes your head spin. His arms wrap tight around your waist, pulling you flush to his chest, as if he doesn't know what else to cling to but you. That's when it happens. As Jake's high crashes into him and his body goes slack, his hand slides blindly out, not even looking, just reaching and palms over Sunghoon's clothed cock. Just once. Just a rough, mindless squeeze like instinct, like habit. Sunghoon finally breathes like it hurt. His hand shoots out to Jake's wrist, gripping it tight.

"Jake." It's a warning. Low and dangerous. But Jake only smiles, breathless and utterly undone. He nuzzles your chest like he doesn't have a single thought in his head, eyes glazed, body limp beneath you. "Sorry," he murmurs, eyes fluttering open just barely as he looks up at Sunghoon. "Couldn't help it." You're still catching your breath when you look at Sunghoon, and the heat you find there steals whatever air you had left. Jake's chest rises and falls beneath you in exhausted waves, his eyes barely open as he blinks up at the ceiling, dazed. Your body's still trembling faintly, skin damp and flushed, caught somewhere between overstimulation and deep, floating warmth. But it's Sunghoon's hands that ground you again, firm at your waist, lifting you before you can even register the shift.

You gasp softly, clinging on instinct. Your arms loop around his shoulders. Your legs wrap around his waist. And he catches all of you like he was always meant to.

He doesn't flinch when he feels it, the wetness between your thighs painting into the front of his clothes. Jake's cum, still leaking, smearing onto him with every shift of your weight. Sunghoon doesn't even blink. He only adjusts you a little higher in his arms, one hand cupping the back of your thigh, the other firm at the base of your spine, keeping you close. "Come on," he says, glancing at Jake without stopping his stride. His voice is quiet, but it leaves no room for negotiation. "You too." Jake groans but pushes himself up slowly, limbs still boneless as he stumbles to follow. And Sunghoon, ever composed and in control, carries you straight to the bathroom, never once loosening his grip. Never once looking away. Because you're done for now, yes.

The water is long gone now, turned off with soft, sluggish movements, steam lingering in the air. Towels exchanged between fingers like unspoken reassurances. No words needed. Not yet. You're clean, finally. A little sore. A little dizzy. But warm. Sunghoon's hoodie is draped over your shoulders, sleeves long enough to swallow your fingers. Jake had laughed watching you tug it on, muttering that Sunghoon always brings out your bratty side, but his voice was half-asleep even then, eyes puffy and red around the edges.

So now here you are. Tucked in Jake's bed instead of Sunghoon's, a rare deviation none of you had energy to question. The sheets still carry Jake's detergent, softer, citrusy, a little too clean for how he usually acts and your limbs are caught in a tangle of body heat.

Sunghoon lies on his back beside you, one arm folded under his head, the other stretched along the curve of your side. You're tucked in close, nose nearly brushing his shoulder as you breathe him in. His pulse is slow under your cheek. His fingers lightly drag up and down your spine, rhythmic, gentle, like he's drawing shapes just for himself. Jake, meanwhile, is curled up on the other side of you, head heavy on your stomach, cheek pressed to your bare skin. You're stroking his hair without even realizing it, combing the strands back gently as his breathing deepens, softer and slower with each pass. The room is quiet. The kind of quiet where the world feels far away. Just three of you, bodies finally settled, the ache of heat and noise replaced with something heavier and tender.

You stare at the ceiling for a moment. Then at Sunghoon. "Can I ask something?" His fingers pause for a split second before continuing, slower now. "Mm."

"The thing earlier," you murmur, voice barely above a whisper. "With Yunjin. What was that?" There's a pause. A very long one. You feel the shift in his breath before you hear the words. "It's nothing," he says finally, calm. Even. "I'll tell you later." But something in the way he says it makes your stomach turn. Sunghoon never lies, but he does withhold. And this doesn't feel like nothing. Not when his jaw ticks like that. Not when his hand drifts up your spine again, a little tighter, like he's grounding himself. Not when he won't look at you, even now.

You nod, because you don't want to push. But you don't miss how Jake stirs slightly at the sound, how he snuggles closer, pressing a kiss to your skin without even lifting his head. He's already halfway into sleep, and you know he won't remember it. But it's comfort. His way of keeping you close. So you let it go. For now.

Even if the silence feels heavier this time. Even as Sunghoon's fingers slide higher and rest at the nape of your neck. Even as you try to believe him. Even as the weight of that later starts to hang in the air between you.

The first thing you hear is the quiet hum of Jake's voice, muffled, amused, talking shit over his headset somewhere in the living room. You recognize the cadence of it, the rise and fall of his tone, the clack of his controller buttons, the way he leans into his game with too much energy for this hour. The second thing you feel is warmth. Heavy, slow warmth. Sunghoon. You're tucked into his chest, half-under the covers, skin against skin, the room still dim and quiet. The sunlight is creeping in just enough to make his collarbones glow. His breathing is steady and warm at your nape. One of his legs is thrown over both of yours. His arm is firm around your middle, too firm, actually. You shift slowly, turning your face into his chest before you lift your head just slightly, blinking your eyes open. There's a moment where you forget everything else. Your body is still sore in a pleasant way. Your mind is fogged with sleep. There's no urgency.

You stretch, or at least, you try to. You start to lift your arm, shift your hips to sit up and that's when you feel his arm tightens around you like a vice. His hand flattens against your side, keeping you exactly where you are. "Sunghoon?" you whisper, voice thick with sleep. "Don't go yet." His voice is rough and quiet. "Just for a little longer." You glance up and he's already awake, eyes barely open, lashes low and heavy. His mouth is slack and soft from sleep, but the grip he has on you is anything but. You try to smile. "I was just gonna brush my teeth."

"I don't care."

"Okay..."

"Talk to me," he says next, a little firmer. "Anything."

You pause. The tone is familiar, the softness threaded under something else. A kind of vulnerability he rarely shows unless it's quiet like this, unless you're alone.

You hum. "Like...about what?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Why?" He exhales. Shifts just enough to bury his nose in your hair. "You already know," he says quietly. "Your voice calms me." And he's right. You do know. This isn't new. It's happened more than a few times, after hard days, after silence-filled dinners, after that one fight with his father where he didn't even speak for hours. You remember the first time, when he told you in a low voice that your talking about anything, about everything, made him feel like the world wasn't closing in. You'd said you were honored. You still are. So you relax back into him, shifting your head slightly against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. You let your eyes close again.

And then you speak.

"You always say that," you whisper, voice low as you rest your hand against Sunghoon's chest, just over his heart. His eyes are closed again now, and his lashes twitch a little when you brush your thumb across his skin. "That my voice calms you." Your lips quirk slightly as you exhale a fond breath. "But you never tell me why. Is it the tone? The dumb things I say? Or just because I don't shut up when you need a distraction? You smile to yourself when he makes a quiet hum something between agreement and a dozing sigh. "I could talk about the weather, you know," you say lightly. "Like, it's supposed to rain today. Probably later. Jake's gonna forget he left the top of his Jeep down and get mad about it and pretend it wasn't his fault."

You feel the faintest breath of amusement in Sunghoon's chest, even as his grip slackens just a little. "Or I could tell you about the list of groceries we forgot to buy again. Or how Jake definitely used my shampoo even though he swore he didn't." You brush a gentle hand over Sunghoon's hair. "Or how we really need to wash your sheets after last night but we're all too lazy. Or how..." you trail off softly, your voice thinning as his breathing deepens. You pause to look up at him eyes closed, jaw relaxed, the smallest crease between his brows finally softening. You press a kiss just below his collarbone. "I'll still be here," you whisper. "Always."

And then carefully, slowly, you untangle yourself from his limbs. He stirs for a second, brows furrowing as if his body knows you're leaving even if he doesn't fully wake. But you hush him softly, running your fingers through his hair once more. "I'll be right back." Then you slip out from under the blanket, padding quietly across the cool floor, and make your way down the hall toward the soft noise of game chatter and clicking buttons. Just as you suspected, Jake is curled up on the couch in the living room, headset askew, legs sprawled wide and controller in hand. He's in a hoodie and boxers, hair still messy from sleep, and the moment he sees you, his whole face lights up.

"There's my girl," he beams, dropping the controller to the side and opening his arms. You don't even hesitate, you crawl straight into his lap, straddling him in a tight hug as he wraps you up with both arms. He smells like your body wash and leftover cologne, and you breathe him in as he peppers kisses along your cheeks. "Hi, hi, hi," he murmurs between kisses. "God, you're warm. You sleep okay, baby? You sore?" You nod into his shoulder, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck. "A little sore," you admit softly. "But good sore." Jake grins against your cheek and pulls back just enough to cup your face in his hands. "Yeah?" he says, tilting his head. "You need me to kiss it better?" You laugh softly, tapping his chest.

"Maybe later," you say. "Sunghoon's still asleep."

Jake gives you a look like when is he not? “We should make breakfast.” You say, but instantly almost regret saying we.

The kitchen is quiet at first, just the low clatter of pans and the hum of the fridge. You're barefoot as you move around the space with practiced ease, cracking eggs and flipping pancakes with a gentle rhythm.Jake's at your side, or more accurately, in your way. "Wait, wait, baby—should I stir this?" he asks, already grabbing the whisk in a bowl you very much do not need stirred. "No—Jake, that's pancake batter, it's done."

"Oh," he says, sheepish, setting the whisk down like it's fragile. "Well, what about the toast? Should I flip that?"

You pause. "You don't flip toast, Jake."

"Oh." You shoot him a look over your shoulder, and he holds his hands up in surrender, grinning like he's already planning his next move. "I'm helping."

"You're talking," you counter. "Very loudly. While putting things in the wrong place. Which is... the opposite of helping." Jake leans into the counter with a whine. "I'm moral support."

"Sure you are."

"You're bossy when you cook," he says with a smug tilt of his lips. "It kinda turns me on." You shoot him a flat stare, eyebrows raised. "Oh my god," you mutter, jabbing a finger toward the stool behind him. "Sit. Down. Don't touch anything else." His eyes gleam like he's just been handed the best gift of his life. "Yes, chef." He drops into the seat with exaggerated obedience, resting his chin in his hands, staring at you with something between adoration and mischief. "Tell me what to do next, I'll be so good." You roll your eyes and smirk as you turn back to the stove. "You're such a sub." Jake laughs, then pushes up to his feet just long enough to wrap his arms around your waist and kiss the corner of your mouth. "Only for you." “And Sunghoon.”

The moment is cut short by the sound of a low, groggy voice from the hallway. "It's way too early for you to be turned on, Jake," Sunghoon grumbles, padding into the kitchen with hair still messy from sleep. He rubs at his eyes with the back of his hand and leans over to kiss you, a slow, languid kiss that tastes like morning and comfort. Then he tilts his head and breathes in, eyes fluttering half open. "Smells good." Before you can respond, he slips his arms around your waist and lifts you off the ground, placing you on the counter like you weigh nothing. The kiss that follows is just as effortless slow and soft, his hands firm at your hips, lips brushing yours again and again until you sigh into his mouth.

Jake lets out a dramatic sigh. Sunghoon turns without missing a beat, leans in, and kisses Jake too. Just a soft press of lips, but it's affectionate and familiar and Jake grins like it's nothing new. "Hi," Sunghoon murmurs, then turns back to you, gently grabbing your foot and rubbing it in his hand. "You sore?" The question is quiet, spoken like he already knows the answer. You nod just slightly, and his thumb brushes over your ankle, kneading a spot there as Jake scoots closer to run his hand down your thigh. "You both asked the same thing," you say with a sleepy smile, watching them move around you like you're the center of gravity.

Jake beams. "Team effort." You lean your head back against the cabinet and breathe in the warmth of it all, the scent of eggs and pancakes, the press of Sunghoon's palm on your skin, the sound of Jake humming some off-key tune as he steals a piece of fruit from the cutting board. It's so domestic. So easy and so far from where you started. The three of you tucked in the glow of the morning—half-eaten pancakes on the counter, music playing low from Jake's phone, and your legs swinging gently where Sunghoon set you on the kitchen island. But eventually, the thought creeps in. You should go back to your place. You don't really want to—not when the air here feels like something warm and worn-in. Not when Jake keeps grazing your waist when he passes, or when Sunghoon's fingers are still loosely wrapped around your ankle, absently rubbing. Still, your laundry's piling up, your textbooks are somewhere under your bed, and you haven't touched your own skincare in four days. You shift on the counter. "I should head back for a bit," you say quietly. Jake stops mid-chew and frowns. "Now?"

"Just for a while," you shrug, playing with the hem of the oversized hoodie you'd slept in. "I need more clothes. And my laptop." There's a pause. You don't say it out loud, but you're both thinking it—Yunjin might be there. Jake is the first to break the silence. "I'll go with you." You glance over at him. He's already standing up, wiping his hands on a paper towel, as if it's already decided.

"You don't have to," you say gently, not wanting to seem cold, but knowing how much heavier it'll feel if he's there, how much more obvious your tension with Yunjin will be with him watching. "Really. I'll be fine."

Jake frowns, but you can tell it's not from offense, it's from concern. Sunghoon finally speaks, voice quiet as always. "Let him drive you." You turn your head. He's not looking at you, just brushing the crumbs off his hands and walking to the sink, like it's a casual suggestion — but it isn't. You know Sunghoon too well to miss the weight behind his words.

"I'll be okay," you repeat. He dries his hands and finally meets your eyes. "I know. But you shouldn't have to be." That lands heavier than you expect. It silences you for a beat. Jake doesn't gloat. Doesn't push. He just rests his hand on your thigh and says, softer this time, "Let me take you. Just the ride, yeah? I won't come up." And the way he says it, not begging or pleading, just offering, makes it impossible to say no.

You nod. "Okay." Jake grins. "Cool. I'll grab my keys."

As he disappears into the hallway, you feel Sunghoon step close again. He tilts your chin up with one finger, expression unreadable, the way it always is when he's being careful with his words. "Don't let her get under your skin," he says quietly.

"I'm not—"

"I know you," he interrupts, brushing his thumb against your cheek. "And I know how much space you make for people, even the ones who don't deserve it."

Your throat tightens. "You should go back cause you want to," he adds. "Not just because you feel like you have to." You lean into his touch for a second longer, just until you hear Jake's footsteps returning. Sunghoon drops his hand, presses a kiss to your temple, and steps away.

The car is warm, the windows slightly cracked as the wind hums in soft bursts. You’d reminded him to put the top back on and now he’s got one hand on the wheel, the other gesturing animatedly as he tells you some story about a mutual friend from class, something about a failed group project and a spilled drink, but your eyes aren't really on him. You're watching the road blur past. Listening, but not really.

The smile on your face is faint, polite, not the kind Jake's used to pulling from you. He's halfway through a joke when you finally cut in, voice gentle, almost unsure. "What did you mean... back at the party," you start slowly, "when you said Yunjin doesn't behave herself?" His hand stills on the wheel. You see the way his jaw tightens, barely noticeable, but you catch it.

He exhales through his nose, gaze fixed on the road. "Did you ask Sunghoon?" You hesitate, thinking maybe you should lie. Then, quietly, "I did." Jake hums once, like he's not surprised. "What'd he say?" You shake your head a little, turning to face him more. "He said it was nothing. Or that he'd tell me later." Jake chuckles dryly, shifting gears at a light. "That sounds like him."

"Is it nothing?" There's a pause. Jake finally glances at you, just for a second, then looks back at the road. "You should listen to Sunghoon," he says, not unkindly. "It's not a big deal." But the way he says it, almost rehearsed. Like he's been told to say that before. You turn back to the window, chewing on your lip, silence slipping between you two again. Jake drums his fingers on the steering wheel, probably trying to think of something else to talk about. Something easier. But the question still lingers between you both. It still doesn't feel like nothing, and you can tell he knows that. You can’t really say much, especially when he’s already pulling up to your building and parking, leaving over to kiss you and tell you not too take too long.

You shut the door of your apartment quietly behind you, already feeling the weight of the air inside your apartment. Yunjin's sitting on the couch, just as you expected, arms crossed and eyes glued to her phone, but it's the tension in her shoulders that tells you everything. "Hey," you say softly, setting your bag down. No response. You glance at her again. "Yunjin." She finally looks up, expression unreadable. "Oh. You're back." You stop, taken aback by the tone. "Yeah... just came to grab a few things." She nods slowly, like she's pretending to think about that. "Right. Cause you live at Sunghoon and Jake's now." Her smile doesn't reach her eyes. "Or maybe you're still trying to decide which bed you like more."

That lands hard. You pause in place, uncertain if you heard her right. "What?" She stands up, folding her arms. "Don't look so shocked. People talk, you know? And I'm not blind. You're staying over there constantly. You walk around campus like it's normal—like it's fine."

"Yunjin—"

"Are you sleeping with both of them?" she snaps, making you go stiff. "What—what kind of question is that?" you ask, trying to keep your voice level. "It's not a question," she says coolly. "It's what everyone already thinks. Don't act like you're some innocent victim here. You know what you're doing."

You stare at her, heart pounding. "Why are you saying this to me?"

"Because I'm your cousin, basically your sister," she spits. "And you clearly need someone to knock some sense into you." The silence afterward is awful. Heavy and bitter. She doesn't back down, doesn't blink, doesn't seem to notice how much she's just hurt you. You open your mouth even though nothing comes out. But then door opens with a clean, sharp sound that cuts right through the silence. You and Yunjin both turn your heads toward it, startled. Jake steps in casually, holding your phone between two fingers like he's done nothing but walk into a peaceful room. His face, though, says otherwise. His eyes lock on Yunjin's instantly—calm but tight around the edges, like a lit match held too close to something flammable.

"You forgot this," he says, voice low as he looks to you. He holds the phone out gently, not breaking eye contact with Yunjin until you reach to take it.

"Jake—" you start, confused, because you'd watched him drive off. He had class, he told you he did. He cuts you off, gaze still fixed on Yunjin. "This conversation? Not your business," he says quietly, but the threat in his tone is unmistakable. "And the way you're talking to her? You're crossing a line you don't want to cross."

Yunjin blinks like she can't believe what she's hearing. "Is that a threat?" Jake raises a brow. "It's a warning. You don't get to speak to her like that. Not anymore."

"Oh, I'm so scared," she snaps, arms folding. "What are you gonna do? Have Sunghoon glower at me until I cry?" It's meant to be biting. But Jake doesn't even flinch. He tilts his head just slightly, his tone flat. "You think this is about me and Sunghoon?" He looks down at you then, eyes softening just a little. His voice drops, quieter now. "I was already driving off when I noticed your phone. But something told me to come up anyway." He looks at Yunjin again, no longer trying to hide the coldness in his stare. "Guess I figured right."

You're still frozen, unsure what just shifted. Jake's still Jake—but this edge to him? The steel behind the softness? It's disorienting, like watching something gentle catch fire.

Yunjin stares at him, and for the first time—she doesn't have anything to say. And you're left even more confused than before. Because none of this feels random, none of this feels new to them. Jake doesn't say anything at first. He just steps inside and closes the door behind him, the sound oddly calm despite the storm in his expression. His eyes flick to you, then to Yunjin. You watch the shift in his face as he registers how stiff you look, how shaken. "Go grab your things," he says, eyes still on your cousin. You hesitate. "Jake—"

He turns his head slowly and looks at you—really looks. And the intensity there, the weight behind it, makes your mouth go dry. "Y/n." That's all it takes.

You move, legs shaky as you head down the hallway toward your room, but you can hear them behind you. Muffled voices, low but clipped. You pause just past the corner, just out of view. The voices sharpen. "I'm warning you," Yunjin snaps. "You wouldn't dare—"

"Just fucking try me, I’m begging you." Jake's voice is all grit and steel, low enough to be a growl, and for a moment you don't recognize him. You can't make out what Yunjin says after that because Jake's footsteps are suddenly coming down the hall. You dart into your room and pretend to be mid-pack when he walks in, though your fingers are barely curled around the strap of your duffle. He doesn't speak right away. Just stands there, jaw clenched, pulling his phone from his back pocket and dialing. "Yeah, it's me," he says as soon as the line connects. His eyes don't leave yours. "She's coming back now. Yunjin opened her fucking mouth."

A pause. You can faintly hear Sunghoon on the other end, but you're too disoriented to register the words.

Jake drags a hand through his hair and exhales harshly. "Yeah. In a bit." He hangs up and lowers the phone, finally glancing at your duffle. "You're so slow sometimes," he mutters, stepping closer. "Sit down."

You blink. "What—"

"Sit," he repeats, already prying the bag from your grip.

You lower yourself to the edge of your bed as he starts grabbing clothes. No rhyme or reason to it. Shirts, hoodies, underwear, shorts, your phone charger. You watch him shove them all into the bag. He grabs a pair of your panties off the floor near your laundry basket and pauses. You watch his gaze drag slowly over them, then flick up to meet your eyes. A smirk curves at his lips, playful and a little wicked. "These are mine now." You stare at him in disbelief. He slips them into his pocket and grabs your wrist with zero shame. "Let's go, baby."

"Jake, wait—"

"No," he cuts in quickly, jaw set, hand still wrapped around your wrist. "You don't need to see her again right now." Your feet scramble to keep up as he leads you down the hall, the bag slung over his shoulder, his grip unwavering. You pass the living room, the couch, the kitchen, but Yunjin isn't there. Or maybe she is and she's just gone silent again—but you don't dare look.

Jake doesn't stop. He pulls open the door, steps out, and keeps going, guiding you down the stairs like every second you spend in that apartment is dangerous. Like something might snap if you linger any longer. You barely remember locking the door. You barely remember making it down the last step before he's helping you into the passenger seat, shutting the door behind you, circling the car to the driver's side.

It's not until he throws the duffle in the back seat and starts the engine that you finally speak.

"I didn't... I didn't know she could speak to me like that…ever." Jake looks straight ahead as he pulls onto the street, the muscle in his jaw twitching. "Neither did I."

Jake's car pulling into the student lot like it owns the pavement isn’t anything new. The late morning sun always glints off the blue of the hood, windows rolled down, your laughter blending with Jake's dramatics. He's in the middle of reenacting a scene you half-remember from four months ago—something he'd called you, something filthy and ridiculous, and something that still makes your stomach twist in the best way now. "'She’s a free use toy now, remember?'" you repeat in his voice, pitching it low and overly serious. "'That's what you said, baby.'" You slap his arm, your face flushed, the both of you nearly wheezing with laughter now. Jake grins like an idiot behind the wheel, almost pleased with himself. "I don’t even know why I said that! You looked so sad, my heart clenched." He pouts.

"Mine too," Sunghoon chimes dryly from the back seat. His tone is flat, but there's a hint of amusement there—just enough to make you glance back at him with a small smile. "Yeah, yeah," Jake mutters, shifting into park as the three of you pull into a spot. "Let’s just think of it like post sex dirty talk."

“What!?”

"I don't need dirty talk," Sunghoon replies as he opens the door. "You two are loud enough for all three of us." The car shuts off. Jake practically bounds out, his words already flowing again, this time about the stats class he’s trying not to fail. You reach for the door handle but don't get far—Sunghoon is already there, pulling it open, steadying your hand with his. "Careful," he murmurs, not for show. His fingers smooth the hem of your skirt, and it's automatic, the way he does it. The way his hand lingers at your hip for a second too long. You barely notice. Or rather, you're used to it now. Jake's still talking, walking ahead, phone in hand, gesturing like someone gave him a stage.

And then something quieter and sharper hits you. You glance up and realize...people are staring. Not just glancing. Staring. A pair of girls by the outdoor vending machine pause mid conversation. A guy you recognize from your elective class does a double take. You catch a couple seated at the stone benches near the quad, both turning their heads as the three of you walk by. And suddenly nothing is funny anymore. Suddenly, you're aware of how close you're standing to Sunghoon, how his hand is still faintly at your lower back. You think about the night before, about the way Jake's voice sounded when he was spilling himself inside you while Sunghoon kissed your mouth shut. You think about how many times this week you've stayed over and how you barely even sleep at your own place anymore. You hear Yunjin's voice like she's walking beside you. People talk, you know?

You're not sure what they're saying, but they're saying something. Your stomach tightens as your face goes hot. Sunghoon's arm starts to rise, curling over your shoulders like it always does, and you react before you can think. You shrug him off. Not so gently that it makes him pause mid-step. Jake even stops talking. It's a blink, a beat, but the air shifts instantly. You can feel both of them watching you. Sunghoon's brows draw in the tiniest amount and Jake's confusion is very obvious. You swallow and force your eyes ahead, tucking your hair behind your ear like that'll explain everything. "Sorry," you mumble. "It's just hot." But even you don't sound convinced. Neither of them says anything right away. You all keep walking and you don't dare look back.

It suddenly feels like you're very, very alone, as the crowd thickens the closer you get to the central quad. Jake has started chattering beside you again, walking a step ahead just so he can turn and face you with that boyish grin. "So then I was thinking—after your econ class, you come back with us. We'll order from that place you like. The one with the overpriced pasta. Sunghoon's paying."

"Am I?" Sunghoon says flatly from your other side, barely looking up from his phone. "Yes, because I paid last time and I don’t even think she’s seen her credit card in a hot minute." He points his thumb at you. “Hey!” You shove at his shoulder, “It’s okay, princess. We like spending our money on you.” You offer a weak smile, eyes flicking around again. You can feel people staring, you're not imagining it this time. It's in the way they don't just glance, they linger. A few of them lean into each other to whisper. You almost think you hear your name, or maybe you don't. You wrap your arms around yourself, stepping slightly out of Jake's reach when he goes to grab your arm. He doesn't catch the shift at first. But he does the second time you do it.

He stops mid-sentence. Frowns. "Hey..." His voice softens just slightly. "What's going on?"

You don't answer right away. You feel both their eyes on you now. Jake reaches for your hand this time, slower, gentler—and you hesitate before you let him take it. Only for a second. You pull it away under the pretense of adjusting your bag strap. You look at them both, then down at your shoes and then up again. "They're staring," you finally say. The words are small. Almost swallowed. "People are...looking." Jake blinks at you, like he's trying to understand something that doesn't make any sense. "So?" His voice is light but it holds something sharper underneath. A note of come on threaded through. "So," you repeat, eyes flashing up to him, "it's not just glances, Jake. It's—people are probably saying things. About me. About...us."

Jake exhales. Not quite a sigh, not quite a scoff. "Okay? Let them. Who gives a shit?"

"Jake," Sunghoon warns, quiet and even. Jake looks between you two, his jaw ticking. "What? I'm serious. We’re not doing anything wrong."

"That doesn't mean it's easy for her," Sunghoon says, more to Jake than to you. "She's clearly struggling. Let's talk about it tonight." He steps closer to you, brushing his knuckles against your cheek in a way that makes you want to close your eyes, if only for a second. "You're okay," he murmurs. "Alright? We'll figure it out." Then he leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. You don't push him away this time. You let him. Jake still looks tense. Like he's trying to hold back a million things he wants to say. But he keeps quiet, watching you carefully as you shift your weight on your feet, hands tucked in the sleeves of your sweater now.

You give a small nod. "I'll see you guys later," you say, already backing away toward the path that leads to your building. "Text me when you're out," Sunghoon says. Jake doesn't say anything. You turn around to walk away. Two steps away, just as you're passing a line of trees along the sidewalk, you feel a sharp little pinch right where your skirt ends. You nearly jump. You spin around and Jake's already grinning like he didn't just grope you in public.

"Mine," he mouths, poking at his chest. You flush instantly, whipping back around, and walking fast—heat rising up your neck, and somehow, a little lighter than before.

The rest of your day unspools in a blur. Your econ class dragged on longer than it had any right to, the professor's voice somehow more monotone than usual, each slide heavier with graphs you couldn't focus on. You kept blinking at the same sentence in your notes, rereading it until the words lost meaning entirely. Yunjin still hadn't replied to any of your messages. Not even the short one you sent during your break, Can we talk later? Just us. It stayed marked as delivered. The silence sat with you all day like a knot behind your ribs.

Jake, on the other hand, had sent you seven messages before your class even ended. “hey pretty” “people suck” “but i love you” “sunghoon says i'm being annoying” “but he's cranky, maybe he's hungry” “i miss you rn” “you miss me?” Meanwhile, Sunghoon had sent one. “You okay?”

That was it. Just two words. But you stared at the message for a while, and somehow it made your chest ache in a different way.

And now here you are, exactly where you knew you’d end up again today—melted into the center of Jake and Sunghoon's couch, Jake sprawled entirely on top of you like a human-sized heat pack, half-crushing your lungs while he scrolls through videos with the volume too high. His chin is resting on your chest, legs tangled with yours, one arm wrapped lazily under your back like he never intends to move again. "I'm going to suffocate," you murmur, voice muffled against his shoulder. "No you're not," Jake replies without looking up. "You love this." You do. You hate how much you do. Sunghoon's voice drifts in from the kitchen. "Jaeyun, get off her. You're going to fold her in half."

"I’m like her weighted blanket," Jake replies, one leg tightening around you like a boa constrictor. Sunghoon sighs but doesn't argue further. "I'm ordering," he says over his shoulder. "Same thing as last time?"

"Yes," you say. "Please." He glances over at you, eyes scanning from where your arms are wrapped tightly around Jake's back to the way your ankles hook around his hips. He shakes his head once. Jake grins and kisses your chin, finally looking up. You smile faintly. "You're heavy."

"And warm," he adds. "And comforting. And sweet. And sexy."

"I didn't even say any of that." You roll your eyes and bury your nose into the soft fabric of his shirt, ignoring the fact that the last twenty-four hours felt like emotional whiplash. Right now, right here, you're okay. Sandwiched between chaos and calm, with Jake's weight grounding you and Sunghoon's voice surrounding the space you’re in. You let yourself breathe.

The food arrives with a knock at the door and a soft "thank you" from Sunghoon as he takes the bags. You and Jake are still tangled up on the couch until the smell of your favorite order drifts into the room, and you already know what's about to happen. You feel it in the way Sunghoon lingers a little too long in the kitchen—organizing containers, silently placing utensils beside napkins. He's thinking about what to say. He's going to ask. He's going to start that conversation.

So you beat him to it. "What's the deal with Yunjin?" you ask suddenly, sitting up straighter, brushing Jake's hair from your face. Jake pauses—his entire body freezing like someone hit pause on the app he was scrolling through. He lifts himself off you slowly, sitting up beside you now, looking over at Sunghoon like he's waiting too. Like this part isn't his to answer. Sunghoon doesn't look surprised. He sighs, quiet and composed as always, reaching for one of the containers and placing it in front of you. "Don't worry about her," he says evenly, sliding a fork into your hand. "It's not important." Jake nods like that's final. "Seriously. She's not a problem."

"She kind of was yesterday," you say gently. "And no one's telling me why." Sunghoon's eyes flicker to Jake's, something unspoken passing between them, but neither of them says anything else. It's like hitting a wall. One you didn't know was there until you crashed into it. So you nod once, deciding to let it go for now. But it turns out you can't let go of everything. Because Jake, still trying to smooth the air, says softly, "About earlier—when you said people were staring."

"I just—" you start, but it's like the dam breaks before you can control it. "What is this?" Both of them look at you. Jake stops mid-bite, brows furrowing. Sunghoon sets his drink down, posture straightening slightly like he already knows where you're going. "What are we doing?" you continue. "Like, what is this even supposed to be? Am I...your girlfriend? Am I both your girlfriends? Are you my boyfriends?" Sunghoon blinks slowly, lips parting—but nothing comes out just yet.

"Because sometimes it feels like I'm a pet or something," you say quickly, before either of them can answer. "Like, you feed me and you cuddle me and you both say you want me—but no one's saying what this actually is. And I get it, I do, this started as a mess—but I just need to know."

"Pet?" Sunghoon repeats under his breath, tone unreadable. Jake makes a small, soft noise beside you. Almost like a laugh, but not quite. There's something guilty in it. "Like I'm just something cute you feed and play with and keep around for your convenience," you say, voice shaking a little. "I don't know what I'm allowed to call this. What I'm allowed to feel. You both keep—fucking me, touching me, taking care of me but not saying anything. And I've just been going along with it, but now people are talking and I don't even know what to say to myself, let alone anyone else." Jake raises both his hands a little, a weak smile pulling at his mouth. "Well, you fuck us too, baby."

You whip your head toward him. The glare you give is cold enough to shut him up immediately. Jake winces. "Okay. Bad timing." You blink hard, trying not to cry. "I'm serious." Sunghoon steps in gently, always calm, always composed. "We know." Jake shifts uncomfortably. "She's right. We should've said something. We've been...we've been enjoying it too much to pause and check in. That's on us."

"I need to know," you whisper. "Before this goes any deeper than it already has." Sunghoon reaches across the table, brushing your knuckles with his fingers. "You're not a pet. You're not some thing we keep around. You're someone we care about. Deeply."

Jake's voice comes in low, sincere. "And if you need it defined, then yeah. You're our girlfriend. Mine. Sunghoon's too.” He looks at Sunghoon, who nods once, no hesitation. "You're ours. And we're yours," Sunghoon says simply. "If you want that." Jake leans in again, resting his chin on your shoulder, quieter this time. "And if anyone gives you shit about it...let us handle it." The silence that follows feels different now. Like an exhale. You're still unsure, still scared—but at least you're not alone in it. Jake notices you starting to crumble again, your arms still wrapped around your legs like a shield, your forehead resting on your knee like you're trying to disappear. You've stopped talking, but your eyes are wet, and the silence is loud. So he does what Jake always does when emotions get too raw—he leans in with a grin and says something that makes you want to both kiss and strangle him.

"Okay, but if you were just our pet or our toy or whatever—would we let you ride us like that?" You blink. "Jake—"

"I'm serious," he grins, full of teeth now. "The way you get on top? That shit's not recreational. That's religious. Cowgirl of the century. If we were just using you, you'd be flat on your back all the time."

"Jake," Sunghoon says, without looking up from his container. "Read the room."

"I am reading the room," Jake shrugs, nudging you again. "It's tense. I'm easing it." You shoot him a look that's somewhere between exasperated and fond. "And the way you moan?" he keeps going, ignoring Sunghoon's sigh. "Half the building probably thinks we're filming amateur porn. And I'm not even mad."

Your cheeks flush instantly. Then Sunghoon finally glances up, chewing slowly. "You done?" Jake looks over at him, unbothered. "Not even close.” But when he sees the heat rising in your cheeks—your breath caught in your throat, lips parted but silent—he backs off just a little, gaze softening as he runs his thumb over the spot he touched.

"I'm just saying," he says, a bit quieter now. "Don't say we're using you when you fuck us like you own us."

You look at him. Then Sunghoon adds, so dry it's almost funny, "And you call me possessive." Jake just smirks and shrugs. "She started it." You're sit there, stunned and blushing, legs curled up beneath you as Jake licks his lips like he didn't just casually obliterate your emotional stability with his mouth. Sunghoon's watching you both now, quiet but not in that unreadable way he always does, he's leaned back with one arm thrown over the back of the couch, chewing slowly as if he's giving you space to recover. But his eyes don't leave you. You don't even realize you're staring into your lap until Jake shifts again beside you. The warmth of his hand on your lower back is grounding this time, not teasing. When he speaks again, his tone is lighter. Not softer exactly—but easier.

"Okay. Let's change the subject before Sunghoon murders me." Sunghoon just lifts a brow. Jake grins at him, then turns back to you. "What do you think about us going away next month?" You blink. "What?"

"For Sunghoon's birthday," he clarifies. "It's just after midterms. I figured we could do something—just us. Like, leave the city. Rent a cabin. Go up north. Or maybe a beach town if the weather isn't shit." You turn your head slowly. "It's your birthday next month?"

Sunghoon nods as he chews, like it's not a big deal. Jake scoffs. "See? He wasn't even going to say anything. He never does. He hates celebrating, but I think that's mostly because no one's ever done it right." Your eyes linger on Sunghoon. He's looking at the coffee table now, suddenly preoccupied with peeling a label off the water bottle he hasn't even opened. There's the faintest tightness around his mouth. You realize with a quiet kind of ache that Jake's probably right. "I didn't know," you say, quiet.

Sunghoon shrugs. "It's not important." Jake mutters, "It is to me." There's a pause. Jake leans forward slightly, voice losing its usual lilt. "It should be to you too." Your chest tightens. "Of course it is. I didn't mean—" You stop. Breathe. "I just didn't know." Sunghoon nods once. "Now you do." Jake leans back, brushing his hair out of his face. "So? What do you think? We go away for a few days, just the three of us. No classes. No campus. No one watching us like we're weird."

You nod before you can talk yourself out of it. "Yeah. I'd like that." Sunghoon doesn't say anything at first. Then he murmurs, "We'll see how midterms go." Jake rolls his eyes. "Don't act like you're not already ahead in every class."

"I'm not failing," Sunghoon allows, glancing at you now. "You?"

"I'm managing," you say, and it's true—but just barely. It's hard to focus with everything going on. Yunjin's silence. Campus whispers. The heaviness that lingers even when you're safe on their couch, fed and warm and wanted. Jake nudges your side gently. "Then we're going. You need a break, birthday boy needs attention, and I—" He grins. "I'm just trying to see you in a bikini." Sunghoon scoffs, but you catch the way his mouth twitches. Jake keeps going. "We'll get a place with a hot tub. Or one of those outdoor tubs. Imagine the three of us in that. Steam. Moonlight. Maybe a bottle of wine."

You raise a brow. "Who's bringing the wine?"

"I'm twenty-two," Jake says, smug. "I can get alcohol."

You snort despite yourself. Sunghoon finally smirks.

And for a second, it's just quiet again. Easy. You settle back into the couch. Jake picks up a fry. Sunghoon pulls the food containers closer. And for the first time all day, the weight in your chest feels a little lighter.

You don't know what you are to them. Not yet. But you know they want you here, they're not letting go, and maybe for now, that's enough. Jake starts going on about beach towns and hot tubs and "aesthetically pleasing coastal interiors," but his excitement is infectious. The way he grins as he talks about planning something for Sunghoon—for the three of you—makes you feel warmer than the wine in your glass. Sunghoon's leaned back into the couch cushion beside you, watching Jake with that quiet fondness of his. Your bare knee brushes against his thigh when you shift, and he doesn't move away. "I want to show you something," he says suddenly, voice low but certain.

You look at him, curious. "Right now?"

He stands. "Yeah. Come." Jake raises an eyebrow. "Are we about to witness a murder or a surprise?" You follow Sunghoon anyway, trailing behind him through the apartment with Jake padding along behind you, still chewing on the last of a chocolate-covered strawberry like this is some late-night drama reveal.

It feels a little strange, walking into Sunghoon's room again. You haven't been in here since the three of you had sex on that very bed two nights ago. The room looks the same at first glance, neat and clean, the sheets are changed now, curtains drawn halfway and his nightstand exactly as minimal as you remembered. But then you see it. Against the far wall, in the corner that used to be empty, right next to his bed, stands a newly assembled vanity mirror. Soft, diffused bulbs line the frame. The surface gleams. And on top of it—your favorite skincare bottles, your foundation and lip oils, the mascara you lost weeks ago. There's even a small gold dish with your rings and earrings placed just right.

You take a slow step closer, stunned. Jake leans against the doorframe behind you. "He made me go with him to pick out that mirror. Swore the first one was 'too cheap-looking.' We've been hiding this for, like, two days." Sunghoon, still behind you, shifts a little awkwardly. "It's for... when you're getting ready here. Or, I don't know. If you wanna leave your stuff. Or—"

"Or if you just wanna live here," Jake finishes easily. "With us." You blink. "Wait—what?" He shrugs. "This is us being emotionally responsible adults. You already stay over like five nights a week, baby." Sunghoon nods, but he's quieter. "You haven't been in my room since...that night. So we figured if you did come back in, we wanted it to feel like yours too." Your throat tightens. You look back at the vanity—at how thoughtful it is. How deliberate. "I don't even have a drawer here," you mumble, a little breathless.

Jake laughs. "Yes, you do. Sunghoon emptied half his closet for you." Sunghoon shrugs like it's nothing, but his ears are a little pink. You turn toward them, voice soft. "You guys did this in two days?"

"We would've done it in one," Jake says, "but someone had to rearrange the lighting three times."

"I wanted it to look good," Sunghoon mutters. You don't realize your eyes are glassy until you blink down and one tear slides to your cheek. It's not sadness, not exactly—just that unbearable feeling when people love you with more care than you know how to process in the moment. Jake's already stepping forward. "Hey—hey. You crying?" You wipe at your face quickly, laughing through it. "No. Yes. I'm fine. It's just—this is really... a lot."

"It's okay," Sunghoon says, stepping closer too. "It's meant to be." He reaches up to tuck your hair gently behind your ear. You lean into the touch before you can stop yourself. Jake wraps an arm around your waist from behind and rests his chin on your shoulder. "So? Wanna move in, baby?" You look at them—your quiet, steady Sunghoon. Your chaotic, tender Jake. The mirror. The space. Your heart answers before your mouth can. "Yeah," you whisper. "Yeah. I do."

Jake's arm stays wrapped around your waist, fingers tapping lightly like he's buzzing with unused energy, when he pulls back just slightly to grin at you. "So," he says, dragging out the word. "Who wants to shower with me?" You open your mouth, ready to tease him for being predictably himself, when Sunghoon's phone buzzes in his pocket. He checks the screen, and for a split second, something shifts in his expression, a subtle flicker of recognition that tightens his jaw just a bit. "I'll be back," he says quietly, already turning away as he answers the call. "Hey, Heeseung." It's faint, but you catch the way he murmurs the name low under his breath like he didn't mean for you to hear. He walks out of the room with the phone pressed to his ear, voice dipping even softer as he disappears into the hallway. Your brows knit together for just a second. Heeseung?

But before you can dwell on it, you feel Jake's hands slip under your thighs, and with a sudden lurch, he's thrown you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing.

"Jake—!" you squeal, laughing as the blood rushes to your head. "Put me down!"

"Nope," he says, marching toward the bathroom with all the determination of someone carrying a trophy. "You're showering with me. You cried a little and now I have to bathe you like a princess."

"Is that the rule?" you protest, squirming as he smacks your thigh playfully. He hums, nonchalant. "That's my rule. Plus, you smell like strawberry body lotion and decision-making fatigue." He kicks the bathroom door open and steps inside, still holding you like a sack of sugar and setting you down gently on the countertop. His eyes scan over you with a rare kind of softness. "You okay?" he asks, voice quieter now, thumb brushing over your knee. "Really okay?" You nod, the earlier emotion still lingering like warmth in your chest. "Yeah. I am."

"Good," he murmurs, already reaching behind you to turn on the shower. "Let me take care of you a little."

There's a beat, a quiet moment between the sound of water filling the tub and the faint echo of Sunghoon's voice somewhere deeper in the apartment, still on that call. And you can't help but wonder. What was that about? But right now, Jake is tugging at the hem of your shirt with that boyish grin he always gets when he's about to undress you like it's a present he's unwrapping. And for now, you let the questions go and step into the tub holding Jake’s hand. The water is warm, scented faintly with eucalyptus and something sweeter, probably one of the overpriced oils Jake had tossed into the basket when he dragged you through the skincare aisle last week. You didn't expect to use it like this, not tonight, not like this, not with Jake pressed up behind you in the oversized bathtub, your spine resting against his chest and his arms looped around your waist like he's anchoring you there.

He hums low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your back as he presses a lazy kiss to your shoulder. You feel his fingers skim across your arms and settle over your hands, gently guiding them to float over the surface of the water. "Relax," he says, softly. "You've been tense all day."

"I've had a weird couple of weeks," you murmur, voice dry. "I think I'm allowed to be tense." Jake chuckles behind you, his nose brushing against your neck before he plants another kiss there. "Fair." His fingers interlace with yours underwater, and for a long minute, neither of you says anything. He just holds your hands in his and lets the water cradle you both, his thumbs brushing slow, thoughtful circles against your knuckles. "Hey," you ask after a while, voice quiet. "How do you guys even afford this place?" Jake doesn't answer right away. He exhales slowly, his chin resting on your shoulder. "Sunghoon's dad bought it for him. His 21st birthday gift. He actually owns the whole place." Your eyes widen a little. "Wait, he owns it?"

"Mhm," Jake hums. "Straight up. Title deed and all. I just moved in junior year because my last apartment had a black mold problem and I was too lazy to apartment hunt."

"Of course you were," you mutter.

"Hey," he says, laughing as he splashes water against your side. "It was life or death. I was being slowly poisoned." You lean back against him, more relaxed than you've felt all day. He keeps kissing your neck in quiet intervals, like he's reminding himself you're real and here and his. "Okay," you ask again, slower now, "How did you and Sunghoon... start?" Jake's hands pause just slightly, but then he resumes the soft movements, this time sliding his palms up your arms in long, comforting strokes. "Freshman year," he says. "We were in the same dorm building. Total strangers. I thought he was an asshole at first—he barely talked, always wore headphones."

"Sounds like him."

Jake grins. "Yeah. He caught me making out with someone in the stairwell and said something like, 'You know the walls are thin, right?' Thought he was judging me. Then two nights later, he kissed me at a party." You blink. "Wait—he made the first move?"

"Surprised?" Jake says, tilting his head.

"Yes?" Jake laughs again, pressing a hand to your stomach and gently pulling you closer to him in the water. "Yeah, he kissed me first. I think he was just curious, honestly. But it wasn't a one-time thing. It turned into more." You stay quiet for a second. "Do your parents know?"

"Mine don't ask questions," Jake says, tone losing some of its earlier playfulness. "I don't think they'd care much as long as I keep up appearances. Sunghoon's... kind of complicated. His dad is—well. He wouldn't be thrilled." You frown at that, looking down at where your hands are still tangled in his beneath the water. Your chest tightens just slightly. You tilt your head back a little more, resting it against his collarbone. His skin is warm, and his breath stays steady against your neck, like he's completely at peace.

"You said it started freshman year," you murmur. "Just the two of you. So when did you start... inviting girls into your bed?" Jake's fingers still on your waist for just a moment. Then he smiles softly against your skin. "Not just girls, baby," he murmurs. "Guys too."

You blink, surprised. "Oh...right. Sorry."

"No need to be sorry," he says gently, reaching for your hand under the water again. He's tracing along your knuckles now, thumb moving slow. "It's not something we talked about at first. It kind of...happened. One time at a party, it always starts at a fucking party, we found out this girl was flirting with both of us at the same time."

"And you didn't mind?" you ask.

Jake huffs out a laugh. "Nope. If anything, it kind of turned us on? We realized we didn't care about sharing. At least not like that. So it became a thing — a little game." You're quiet, processing that. You think about how they are with you, all teasing, overwhelming, indulgent. But also careful. Also...real.

Jake nudges your chin with his nose, coaxing you back into the present. "You okay?" he asks. You nod slowly. "Yeah. Just... it makes sense. I guess I never really thought about it." He's quiet for a beat. "We weren't looking for anything serious," he says, voice softer now. "Not until you." Your chest stutters a little at that.

"And you're both...?"

"I'm pansexual," Jake says easily. "And Hoonie’s bi."

You chew on that for a moment, staring down at the water, the way it ripples with the movement of your legs still loosely tangled with Jake's. He doesn't press you. Just kisses your shoulder again and waits. "Have you ever thought about being with a girl?" he asks finally, tone light but curious. "Like, would you ever—?"

"My first kiss was with a girl," you say before you can stop yourself. Jake jerks slightly behind you. "Wait. What?"

You laugh a little, shrinking down in the water. "It was in middle school. Truth or dare. We were twelve."

"Oh my god." Jake sounds absolutely delighted. "Why is this the first I'm hearing of this?"

"Because it's not a big deal!" you say quickly, cheeks warming. "It was just a kiss."

"Still," Jake says, turning your face toward his. He's grinning like you just told him the most interesting thing in the world. "I feel like this changes everything."

You roll your eyes. "It really doesn't." Jake leans in and kisses your cheek anyway. "Tell me everything," he says, still smiling. "Name, zodiac sign, where is she now—" You splash water at him and he yelps, laughing, pulling you closer again like he can't help himself.

You sigh, content and warm against him, the water lapping gently against your skin. His arms are lazily wrapped around your waist, one hand trailing idle circles over your stomach as the other continues to play with your fingers underwater. "Can I tell you something kinda embarrassing?" you murmur. Jake hums, his lips brushing your shoulder. "Always."

"I used to hear all these rumors about you and Sunghoon on campus...before I even knew either of you." That perks him up. You can sense his smirk forming before you even glance back. "Oh yeah?" he says, already amused. "Like what?" You grin. "Like how you two were rich and lived in some crazy off-campus apartment with a private elevator and heated floors."

Jake snorts. "Okay, yeah, it’s just an elevator. Heated floors, though... only in the bathrooms." You giggle a little. "I still can’t believe he got an apartment for his birthday?" Jake nods like it's normal. "He wanted a Ducati. His dad said no. So, apartment." You blink. "That's...not how my parents work." He chuckles. "Same." You nudge his thigh with yours, warming up. "And they said you drive a Jeep Wrangler—red—with custom rims. Supposedly a reward for agreeing to study business." Jake actually throws his head back and laughs at that.

"I wish," he says through laughter. "I do drive a Wrangler, but it's clearly blue. And I got it for my high school graduation, not because of some lame agreement. My parents still think I'm gonna take over my dad's law firm one day." You grin. "So the business degree is...?"

"Mostly for show," he shrugs. "And to keep them off my ass." You turn your head a little, looking up at him. "Okay, but there was also this one rumor about how you and Sunghoon were like...always hooking up with people. Together. Like some weird team." Jake pauses. Then slowly raises a brow. "I mean... that one's not entirely false." You lean your head back again, smiling up at the ceiling. "Okay, wait, there were so many."

Jake chuckles behind you, arms still snug around your waist. "I'm listening." You start ticking them off on your fingers. "There was one that said you and Sunghoon had a no-dating policy because you didn't want to catch feelings and ruin the—quote—dynamic."

Jake laughs low in your ear. "Okay, that's dramatic. We just didn't want to deal with drama. If someone got clingy, it was a hard no. But no official policy. We're not a corporation." You hum. "Someone once told me Sunghoon broke up a couple because the girl hooked up with him and her boyfriend got jealous." Jake snorts. "That one's true. Not even Hoon's fault though. She lied. Said she was single." Your jaw drops. "He broke up a whole relationship?!"

Jake shrugs. "To be fair, the guy should've been mad at her, not us. Hoon didn't even remember her name the next day." You giggle, letting the warm water slosh a little as you shift. "There was this insane rumor that you—you—ran a finsta where you used to post thirst traps for Sunghoon just to mess with people." Jake breaks into a full grin. "Okay. That one's only a little true."

"WHAT."

He laughs, smug. "I didn't run a finsta, but I did post some stupid clips of Hoon dancing or shirtless after the gym. Just for fun. Girls in the comments used to fight over him. He hated it."

You gasp, delighted. "That's evil." He kisses the side of your neck, smirking. "I'm misunderstood." You continue, "Someone said you two once threw a party where you only let people in if they were hot enough, and you made out with two different people at the same time on the couch." Jake's shoulders shake with laughter behind you. "That party was a disaster. Sunghoon got drunk and made everyone leave because someone puked in his room. And that three-way kiss wasn't planned. They just... went for it."

Jake tilts his head, grinning at you. "What else did they say, hmm?" You bite your lip, pretending to think. "That you only ever go for people you can't have."

He quiets for a beat. His arms tighten slightly around your waist, and when he speaks next, it's softer. "Guess I broke that one too."

"Okay, but this one? Someone told me you guys had a third roommate that no one ever saw but was apparently just there for sex. Like, they called her your house pet." Jake nearly chokes. "Oh my god—what?! That's so fucked up."

"You're not denying it fast enough."

"I'm laughing too hard to defend myself!" he said, voice still warm with amusement. "That's complete bullshit. We didn't even have a third roommate, let alone a pet girl. Sunghoon would never let just anyone into his space like that. What do they think we were doing—running a harem out of a student housing lease?"

You tilted your head, smirking. "I mean..." He lightly bit your shoulder and you squealed. Jake grinned into your neck. "Don't get smart, baby. You're not a pet in this house now, remember?" Your stomach fluttered. "That...somehow doesn't make it better."

"Admit it," he said, voice lower, more teasing, "you'd have believed it if I hadn't told you otherwise."

You turned your face toward his. "Oh, I totally believed it." His grin was shameless. "You still do." You didn't answer, and instead just let your fingers float in the water—because maybe you did. Just a little. Because now that you were here, inside this impossibly expensive, stupidly sexy apartment, with Jake all over you and Sunghoon's voice faint in the hallway...none of it really felt like a rumor anymore. It felt real, cause you were in it now, and you knew they wanted you to stay.

You’re trying to hold back a grin as you continue talking. "There was another one that said you both had fake names on Tinder and used to catfish freshmen just for fun." Jake raises his hands like he's offended. "Now that is slander. I didn't even use dating apps. That was always Hoon's department." You snort. "Oh yeah? Cause I heard Sunghoon only swiped right on people who had either modeling portfolios or mutuals at Ivy Leagues."

Jake pauses. "Okay. That one might be true." You both break into laughter. "Someone said you once skipped a midterm because you got invited to Cannes."

Jake stretches lazily behind you. "Nah, it was the Canary islands. And it wasn’t like we were randomly invited. It was my brothers wedding." “Plus it was after midterms”

"Okay. Well that makes more sense"

"Exactly." You blink, turning to glance at him again—but just then, the bathroom door opens.

Sunghoon walks in, without a word, dropping onto the closed toilet seat, thighs spreading as he rests his elbows on them. The motion draws your eyes before you can stop yourself, gaze dragging to the vee of his hips and the way his muscles flex under his skin. He notices. He always notices.

"Do you guys ever use your bathroom?" he asks casually, voice low and warm with amusement. Jake doesn't look away from you, but he grins. "Yours is bigger."

"Mm," Sunghoon hums, eyes flicking to you now. "That why she always ends up in here looking like this?"

You swallow, cheeks hot again. You feel Jake's smile against your shoulder. Sunghoon leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees now. His eyes drag over your bare shoulders, your wet hair clinging to your collarbone, the way you're pressed against Jake's chest in the water like you're trying to disappear—but not really. "You're so fucking beautiful," he says it like a whisper, like it's not the first time he's thought it today. Or the fifth. Your breath stutters in your throat.

You try to look away but you can’t and neither does he.

Jake's arms tighten around you, a little possessive. A little indulgent. His voice is softer when he speaks, like he already knows what Sunghoon's words did to you.

"She is," Jake murmurs, brushing a kiss behind your ear, and then down the slope of your neck. "So perfect." And the air shifts—warm steam and something heavier threading between all three of you. The kind of quiet where want lives, curling slow and inevitable at the base of your spine. You can feel the weight of Sunghoon's gaze like fingertips against your skin, almost like a promise. You're still flushed from Sunghoon's compliment when you hear the faint sound of fabric being peeled away—the unmistakable rustle of clothes hitting the floor.

You glance up and Sunghoon's undressing, slow and unrushed, pulling his shirt over his head like it's no big deal that you're both watching, because it isn’t. He tosses it to the side before pushing his sweats down, stepping out of them with a calm, practiced ease. And then he heads toward the standing shower opposite the tub like this is the most natural thing in the world. Jake kisses your cheek as if he didn't just tighten his hold on you again. Your eyes follow Sunghoon shamelessly—the strong line of his back, the clean muscles of his thighs, the way he turns the water on and steps under the spray without even glancing back.

"Do you guys ever fight over dick size?" you blurt, half-giddy, half-curious. There's a beat of stunned silence. And then Sunghoon barks out a laugh. Like, actually laughs. Full-bodied, head tilted back, water pouring down his chest as he scrubs body wash into his skin. Even Jake snorts behind you, chin resting on your shoulder. "Oh my god," Sunghoon says between little breathless huffs, rubbing his hand down his face like he's trying to compose himself, "what the fuck, why would you ask that?"

You're giggling now, hands covering your burning face. "I don't know! You guys are both hot and stupidly confident. It's a valid question!" Jake chuckles against your ear. "We haven't fought about it, no," he says with faux solemnity. "We've definitely compared, though."

Sunghoon hums, lifting his brows under the spray. "Weird way of saying I won."

"Please," Jake scoffs. "We're basically the same size."

"Exactly," Sunghoon replies smoothly, rinsing his chest, "and I'm taller, so it looks bigger." That earns another laugh from you, and Jake presses his face into your neck with an affectionate groan like this is his life now.

The water's still a little warm when Sunghoon reaches out a hand for you. "C'mere," he murmurs, voice low and gentle. You let him help you out of the tub, fingers curling around his forearm for balance as he steadies you. Jake's already in the shower by the time your feet touch the floor, letting the spray soak through his hair. He reaches for you the second you're close enough, tugging you under the water between them. It's quiet, almost tender—the rinse off. Just soft hands gliding over your skin, fingers brushing your shoulders, your waist. Sunghoon kisses your forehead at one point. Jake rubs shampoo into your scalp with the gentlest touch, humming something low while water slicks down your back. Afterward, Jake wraps a thick towel around you like it's second nature, tugging it snug and pressing a kiss to your cheek with a little "you did good, baby," like you just ran a marathon instead of... taking a bath.

By the time you're settled in front of the new vanity, in Jake's oversized shirt that hangs halfway down your thighs and Sunghoon's boxers peeking out beneath, you feel extra warm in more ways than one. "This is still crazy," you mumble, eyes sweeping over the glossy surface, the perfect lighting, the neat rows of your favorite products already set out like you've lived here forever. "I didn't even know you two noticed what I use." Jake's sprawled out on the bed beside you, chin resting on his forearm, watching you like he's studying a piece in a museum. He reaches lazily for a bottle near your elbow. "What's this one?" he asks, holding it up to the light. "Retinol," you mumble through a layer of moisturizer.

"What's that do?"

"Helps with texture, aging, breakouts..." Jake squints at the label, then back at you. "You don't need it. Your skin's already perfect."

You roll your eyes, smiling as Sunghoon strolls in from the en-suite bathroom with his iPad in hand, his hair still damp from the shower and slightly curled at the ends. "So," he says, casual but decisive, "if we're doing the trip for my birthday, we need to start looking now. Summer houses go fast—especially the good ones."

You glance at him in the mirror. "Should I pitch in?"

Jake doesn't even let you finish the sentence before he lets out this loud, incredulous laugh—one of those half-snorted ones where he buries his face in the bedspread like he can't believe what he's hearing. "Oh my god," he wheezes. You blink. "What?" Jake props himself up on one elbow, smirking at you with faux seriousness. "Baby. Sunghoon would rather die. Like, full-stop, cease to exist rather than let you drop a cent on something." Sunghoon doesn't even deny it. He just stands there, arms crossed, and lifts a brow like, obviously. You narrow your eyes, trying to fight back a smile. "That's not really fair—"

"It's not about fair," Sunghoon says calmly. "It's my birthday. My trip. And I want to pay for it." Jake nods solemnly behind you. "He's been rich and repressed since birth, princess. Let him use his trauma the way he wants." You giggle despite yourself. "But I can contribute—"

"No," Sunghoon interrupts, voice a touch firmer, but his gaze is soft. "You don't have to. That's the whole point." Jake whistles low under his breath. "You're not gonna win this one. He's gonna book some insane beach mansion with like...six bedrooms, two hot tubs, and a private chef, and you're just gonna have to sit there looking pretty and being spoiled." He grins like he lives for that visual. Sunghoon meets your eyes through the mirror, tilting his head. "Exactly."

And yeah, it's hard to keep arguing when they both look at you like you're the best part of every plan they've ever made.

The warm light glows softly against your skin as you sit at the vanity, carefully patting essence into your cheeks, lips slightly parted in focus again. Sunghoon is now pacing slowly across the room with his iPad in one hand, thumb scrolling as he mumbles something about beach rentals and peak season prices. You're only half-listening to Jake's little rant about why citrus scents are superior to woody ones in candles when the thought blurts out of you, calm and curious. "What's your body count?" Jake groans like he's been wounded, falling back onto the mattress with a dramatic flail. "Jesus, baby. You've been on a roll with these questions tonight."

Sunghoon just looks up from his iPad, lips quirking into a small smile. He doesn't speak right away, just watches you for a second, like he's unsure if you're being serious or poking at them again. "I'm just curious," you hum, flipping open your lip mask container, totally nonchalant. Jake shifts onto his side, watching you. "You curious or you looking for a reason to judge us?" You smirk at his tone, deliberately slow as you apply the lip mask. "Why would I judge? I already know you were a menace." Sunghoon makes a soft snorting sound behind you.

You glance over your shoulder at him. "Well?"

"I think I liked it better when you asked if we ever fought over dick size," he replies dryly, eyes back on the iPad but the edge of his mouth betrays a smile.

Jake's still watching you, lips twitching up but still withholding the answer. You roll your eyes and pout at the mirror. "Fine. Mine's three."

The room goes silent. You glance back just in time to watch Jake's face fall. His smile slips first, just a twitch of confusion that spreads into something heavier. His brows draw together, mouth parting. Sunghoon doesn't even move at first, doesn't blink—he's frozen mid-scroll, his eyes flicking up to you.

Jake is the first to speak. Quiet, disbelieving. "Th—Three?" And Sunghoon, voice low, strained, "Who was the third?" You stare at them both, blankly for a second, before, "Oh my god," you burst out, laughing as you spin around on the stool. "I'm joking!"

Jake exhales so hard he practically deflates, his palm dragging down his face. "You—holy shit, that's not funny." Sunghoon finally sets the iPad down, closing his eyes with a visible exhale of tension. "Don't do that." You're still giggling, covering your mouth. "You should've seen your faces. I've never seen you two panic that fast." Jake groans again. "Don't say three like that. You really scared me."

"Well, I didn't know you cared," you tease, stretching your foot to where Jake is on the bed and he grabs it, just like you knew he would. Sunghoon walks past the end of the bed toward the mini-fridge in the corner, murmuring, "It's not about caring. It's about...statistics."

"Statistics?" you echo, raising a brow. "Yeah," Jake mutters beside you, eyes closed as he drops back again. "Statistically, if there was a third, one of us missed something big." You lean your chin into your hand, watching them both fondly. "You guys are—I don’t even know." Sunghoon returns to his pacing, water bottle in one hand, iPad in the other, and then suddenly turns on his heel. "Okay, what do we think of this one?" he asks, stepping toward the bed. He walks over to you and Jake and crouches just enough to tilt the screen toward you both. On display is a photo of a stunning beach house—sleek, modern, with huge windows and a private pool overlooking the ocean. The kind of place that makes you instinctively lean forward and say, "Wait, what?"

Your eyes widen, immediately suspicious. "This is gorgeous. But..." You squint at the corner of the screen, where Sunghoon's finger is very deliberately planted. "Why is your finger covering the price?" Jake lets out a low chuckle beside you, already sensing where this is going. Sunghoon's mouth pulls into a faint, sly smile. "Do you like it or not?"

"Sunghoon."

"I'm serious. Just say if you like it."

"I do, but—how much is it?"

"That's not relevant." Jake actually laughs this time, dropping his head back on the mattress with a soft thud. "Oh, he's doing that thing again." You glance between them. "What thing?" Jake lifts a hand toward Sunghoon, still chuckling. "The thing where he hides the cost because he knows if you see it, you'll freak out and say no, and he'd rather just book it and deal with your protests later." Sunghoon doesn't deny it. He just gives you a long, measured look. "It's a nice house. Very private. Ocean access. You won't have to see a single stranger all weekend unless you want to."

"But how—"

"Do you like it or not," he repeats, firmer this time but still calm. You gape at him, baffled and kind of impressed by the level of audacity. "I mean, yeah, it's beautiful, but—Sunghoon, seriously, how much is it?"

He just blinks, completely unfazed. "Would you rather stay in a motel with sand in the sheets and a rusty AC unit?" Jake raises a hand in mock surrender. "He's got a point." You shoot Jake a half-hearted glare, but he just grins at you lazily, clearly enjoying the whole exchange. Sunghoon finally relents with a small smirk, standing back up. "Look. If you hate it, we'll find something else. But I want you to relax. This trip is supposed to be good for us." Jake hums in agreement, nudging your ankle with his foot. "Yeah, no stress. Let richie rich do his thing." You narrow your eyes. "I feel like I'm being manipulated." Sunghoon leans down just enough to press a kiss to the top of your head as he murmurs, "You are. Now pick out a swimsuit or something." Jake snorts into his arm. "She's not even packed yet and you're telling her to pick out swimwear." Sunghoon shrugs, walking back toward the desk. "Manifesting." Jake shifts a little closer on the bed, pulling out his phone with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Alright," he says, unlocking it, "if Hoon's gonna bully us into luxury accommodations, I think it's only fair I get to pick your bikinis."

You blink. "My bikinis?" He smirks. "For the trip. You're gonna need some new ones, right?" Before you can protest, he's already scrolling through some sleek, minimalist swimwear site—gorgeous models, sun-drenched beaches, and little strings that don't look like they'd cover much more than a scrunchie. You sigh but lean in anyway, your shoulder brushing his, your chin nearly on his shoulder as you settle beside him. "Okay fine," you murmur, cozy, the back of your hand skimming his thigh as you try to keep up with the screen. Jake grins when he feels you cuddle into him. "I knew that'd get you." He scrolls a bit more, swiping through a few options until one catches his eye—a baby blue bikini, simple but flattering, with gold rings on the sides. "Ooh, this one would look good on you—what's your favorite color, by the way?" He raises his voice slightly. "Hoonie, come check this one out." From the desk, Sunghoon glances up briefly, mildly curious but still scrolling. "Send it to me."

Jake doesn't get the chance. Because you go very still beside him, eyes narrowing at the price listed under the bikini set. "Jake," you say flatly. "Why are the bikinis two hundred and fifty dollars?" Jake pauses mid-scroll. "Huh?" You reach over and point, jabbing the screen. "That. Right there. That's the top. Just the top. It's one hundred and thirty-two before taxes." Jake blinks, then slowly turns his head to you with a sheepish little grin. "Should I have hidden the prices too?" You gape. "What do you mean too?!"

Sunghoon, without even turning around, mutters, "I warned you." You groan and drop your head into Jake's shoulder. "You guys live in an alternate reality."

Jake laughs, deep and warm, sliding his arm around your waist to tug you closer. "Yeah, well, welcome to it." You shake your head, still appalled. "Two hundred fifty dollars for something that covers maybe three square inches."

Jake grins. "Two inches if I'm lucky."

"Jake."

"I'm just saying." He holds the phone up again, brows raised. "So... you like the blue one or should I keep scrolling?" You sigh but nuzzle deeper into his side, warm and soft against him. "Keep scrolling." Sunghoon finally gets up and walks over, standing behind the two of you. "Get her the black one," he says casually, pointing. "It'll look better with her skin tone."

You look up at him. "Do I get a say in this?"

"No," they both say at the same time. You groan again but it's drowned by Jake's quiet chuckle and the gentle way Sunghoon's fingers come down to brush your jaw for a moment, his voice a little softer now, "It's gonna be a good trip."

Midterms came and went in a whirlwind of caffeine, group study sessions, and the constant shuffle of flashcards and highlighters. The apartment felt more like a war zone than a shared living space with Sunghoon's untouched protein shakes gathering condensation beside his laptop while he grumbled over math formulas, and Jake flopped dramatically on the living room rug muttering, "If I get a single A this semester, that'll be my miracle."

When results finally came in, Jake stared at his laptop in disbelief for a good ten seconds before deadpanning, "I think I actually got Cs on all of them. Which is kind of impressive, in a way." He was mostly kidding, he passed everything, but not by the margins his parents would've hoped for. He celebrated anyway, calling himself a smarty pants while Sunghoon shushed him from across the room.

Yunjin still wasn't speaking to you. Not when you passed her in the library. Not when you held the elevator for her. Not even when you sent her a short, cautious message letting her know you'd be out of town for a few days. She'd read it, left you on delivered for a day and then read, but never replied. And maybe that was fine. Maybe it wasn't. Either way, there wasn't time to sit with it for too long.

The week passed quickly, and then suddenly, it was Thursday. The morning of the trip bloomed early and bright. You packed the last of your things before sunrise, half-listening to Jake and Sunghoon move around the apartment like shadows. There was laughter, a few yells about someone forgetting the charger or where the sunscreen was packed, and a loud debate about whether to bring the little Bluetooth speaker. You left just after 10 a.m. Jake's Jeep Wrangler waited outside like something out of a summer movie—top off, back loaded with bags and coolers, Sunghoon's sunglasses already perched on his nose as he leaned against the passenger door checking the GPS. Jake wore a sleeveless white tank and black cargos, all golden skin and lazy smiles as he helped you into the front seat like it was some kind of ritual. Your dress—a soft, floaty sundress with thin straps and a neckline that made Jake do a double take—billowed slightly in the breeze.

"Got everything?" he asked, sliding into the driver's seat. "Yep," you nodded, adjusting your sunglasses.

"You look like trouble," he grinned, and when you rolled your eyes, he added under his breath, "The best kind." The road stretched out endlessly ahead, smooth and wide and sun-warmed. You passed gas stations and tiny roadside diners, the hum of tires and the low thrum of music from the speakers wrapping around you like a slow lullaby. It was loud sometimes—Jake drumming on the steering wheel, Sunghoon reading out Yelp reviews for lunch spots in voices that made you giggle—but there were soft moments too. Fingers brushing your knee. Jake tilting his head back to soak in the wind. Sunghoon stretching out his arm to rest over the backseat casually, turning to look at you both when he thought you weren't paying attention.

Three hours in, you stopped for gas and iced coffee. Sunghoon traded places with Jake—who immediately beelined for the passenger seat and pulled you with him. You were still blinking sleepily from the lull of the drive, half-curled into the corner of the front seat when Jake caught your wrist gently and tugged you down.

"C'mere, baby," he murmured, spreading his legs slightly and settling you between them. His shirt was bunched behind your back now, arms wrapped around your waist like a seatbelt as he got you comfortable in his lap. "Shouldn't I be wearing a seatbelt?" you mumbled, nose brushing his throat. "Nah," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss just behind your ear, "I've got you." He smelled like sunscreen and leather and the faint citrus of whatever body wash he used, and you sighed into him as the Jeep started moving again, the road stretching farther and the sun tilting golden through your sunglasses. Wind tangled your hair. Jake's hand smoothed over your thigh lazily, his other arm looped around your waist as he hummed to the music. You dozed like that for a while, safe and warm in his arms, your sundress brushing the edge of his shorts, your head tucked under his chin, Sunghoon's voice a calm rhythm in the background as he drove.

And just like that, the weekend had begun. Sunghoon's birthday was only two days away. The vacation was waiting. The waves. The slow, decadent hours that would stretch between now and Monday. You didn't know what was coming yet. But for now, in that Jeep, sun-soaked and held like something precious, everything was still whole. The house was huge, washed in soft ivory paint and modern wood accents with high windows that opened to a view of the ocean so blue it looked stunning. It sat perched on a soft cliffside, where a private wooden path led down to the sand. Inside, the space was open and breezy, clean, modern, but cozy too. You all wandered room to room, calling dibs and tossing bags around, the boys marveling at the sound system and built-in grill while you gasped at the oversized bathroom mirror.

Thursday evening passed lazily. You all sat out on the back patio with drinks and takeout from the only decent place you could find nearby. Jake turned on music from his phone and danced around with a glass of Coke while Sunghoon grilled shrimp skewers and told you both to stop acting like children. You stayed up past midnight, bare-faced, barefoot, skin glowing from the salty breeze, and not a care in the world. Now it was Friday afternoon, and your vibe was completely different. You were standing in front of the mirror, a bright green bikini top clinging to your chest like a second skin. It was cuteor it would've been if it fit properly. But it was a full two sizes too small. You'd only just now realized that the sizes on the site had been in European metrics. All of them. Every single one Jake had ordered with you. The bottoms were worse—low rise and barely-there, and the top? Let's just say one good wave and you were going to be the entertainment for the whole beach.

Downstairs, you could hear the impatient tapping of flip-flops and Jake's familiar voice calling out, "Baby? Seriously? The sun's gonna set before we get there if you don't hurry." You panicked. "Can you guys come up here?" your voice carried, laced with confusion and mild distress. A beat passed before the footsteps and then Jake's voice again. "Why? What's—oh. Oh." He stopped in the doorway. You turned around slowly, crossing your arms over your chest instinctively. "They're all like this," you muttered. "All the bikinis. Every single one is...I don't even know how." Jake blinked at you like he couldn't decide whether to laugh or melt into the ground. "I—okay. Wait. Wait. Let me see."

"Jake—"

"No, seriously. I just...I need a second." He stepped in fully, eyes wide, gaze raking over you, then darting away. "Oh fuck." At that moment, Sunghoon appeared in the doorway too. "What's taking so—" His words cut off the second he laid eyes on you and he visibly froze.

His hand tightened on the frame of the door, and his brows lifted just slightly before he glanced at Jake and then back at you. "Is that the one I picked?" he asked carefully. You blinked. "They're all like this." A long silence passed. Then, Sunghoon, lips twitching like he was fighting back a smirk, looked straight at Jake and deadpanned, "Did you do this on purpose?" Jake barked a laugh. "No! Obviously not. Do you think I want her to get heat stroke because her ass is basically out?"

"You don't seem that mad about it," you said, narrowing your eyes. "I'm not mad about how it looks," Jake said shamelessly. "I'm mad we're going to be late because now I'm thinking about pushing the whole beach day back until tomorrow." Sunghoon walked in slowly now, finally getting his composure back, though his eyes still lingered. "You're not wearing that out there," he murmured, reaching forward to tug one of the straps gently, watching it snap back into place with a disapproving shake of his head. "You'll be on some guy's Snapchat story before you even touch the sand."

"But we don't have anything else," you groaned. "And the stores here are so overpriced—" Jake was already pulling out his phone. "We can order you something express. Overnight delivery. Worst case, we drive into the town in the morning." Sunghoon exhaled and nodded. "For today...you can wear one of our shirts and your shorts to the beach. That way you still get sun, and you don't have to worry about this whole wardrobe malfunction thing." You huffed. "I was supposed to be hot today." Jake leaned down, pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder. "You are hot today." Sunghoon's voice, quiet and amused, "Too hot, actually." Jake sighed dramatically. "Okay, beach. Let's move.

The beach was almost eerily perfect, in a way that made you feel like you were dreaming, it was secluded, sun-drenched, and quiet save for the gentle lap of waves and the occasional distant laugh from another couple several cabanas down. The air smelled like coconut sunscreen and salt, and the sand was warm enough to sink your toes into without flinching. Sunghoon had splurged on the fanciest cabana available, of course—sleek wooden framing, gauzy white curtains, plush daybeds. It looked like something out of a magazine editorial, and Jake had immediately stretched out on one of the loungers like he owned the place. You'd barely set your tote down before Jake grinned and took off running. "Jake—!" You blinked, startled, before chasing after him barefoot through the sand, laughing as you ran. Sunghoon didn't say a word, just shook his head with a rare, fond smile and then took off behind you both, his long legs easily overtaking yours. Jake was first and Sunghoon let you win.

You all collapsed on the sand, breathless and red-faced from laughter. You caught a glimpse of Sunghoon genuinely laughing, his head tipped back, hair messy from the ocean breeze, and your heart hurt a little. You didn't realize how rare it was for you to see him like that. "I don't run unless I'm getting paid," he muttered, sand stuck to his chest and forearms. You eventually made your way to the water. Sunghoon didn't wait, he came up behind you, arms around your waist, and with an effortless lift, carried you into the ocean. Your legs instinctively wrapped around him, and he grinned, saltwater dripping from his lashes.

"This is cheating," you whispered breathlessly, hands tangled in his wet hair. He kissed you once, then again—slow, easy, like you weren't waist-deep in ocean water. When you pulled back, dazed, you noticed Jake watching from a few feet away, not with jealousy or anything of the sort, but with admiration. He looked like he was thanking every god for this getaway and it drew you to him, kissing him too, this one more playful, mouths smiling into each other, noses bumping. His hands were warm on your back despite the chill of the ocean. It didn't take long before both boys were getting competitive again, scooping sand in their palms and chasing you up the beach with it. You shrieked, half-laughing, half-running, but they were faster, and grinning so evil when they caught up. Two sandy handprints landed square on your ass, one slightly higher than the other. "Seriously?" you gasped.

"Matching set," Jake grinned, brushing more sand onto the curve of your hip for symmetry. Later, you found out Jake had posted a picture on his private Instagram story—just your back, bikini bottoms, and two very clear sandy handprints with no caption. The sun was setting when the three of you made your way back up the private trail to the beach house on foot, flip-flops dangling from your fingers, towels wrapped lazily around your waists. You were sandy and soaked and sun-drunk. The sky was pink now. Sunghoon opened the door for you, but you were already tugging your bikini straps down under Jake's shirt before you even crossed the threshold. "I am not getting sand all over this house," you muttered, stepping out of your bottoms and shaking them out before dropping them by the door. Jake laughed from behind you, watching you shimmy out of your bikini top, wearing nothing but his oversized shirt from earlier in the day.

"Hmm," he hummed, walking up behind you. You barely had time to register the heat in his voice before his hands were on your waist, pulling you back against him. Sunghoon lingered in the corner, towel slung over one shoulder, watching quietly, but his eyes were dark, tracking the way Jake kissed down your neck, how you arched a little when Jake's hands slipped under the hem of his own shirt. "You're really just—doing this right here?" Sunghoon asked, but his voice was low, interested, not judging.

Jake glanced back at him, smirking. "What, you're shy now?" He asked as he drags you to the couch, and pressing you there, it's deliberate with his knee between your legs and his hands in your hair. His lips are warm and persistent, tongue sliding against yours like he's coaxing you open for him, like he has all the time in the world and he's planning to use it. Sunghoon's still nearby. You feel his presence before you feel his touch, his arm brushing against yours as he settles in behind you. His hand finds your bare thigh, warm and steady, sliding up just enough to make you breathe a little harder. Jake breaks the kiss to look at him. "You're just gonna sit there?" Sunghoon smirks a little. "You were busy."

"She's not just mine, you know?" Jake says, turning back to you, his mouth already hovering close again. "Let him kiss you, baby." You blink up at him, flushed, and then turn your head to Sunghoon. He doesn't ask. Just leans in and kisses you, slower than Jake, deeper, like he's learning you all over again. His hand rests on your cheek, fingers brushing your jaw. When Jake's hand slides under his shirt, teasing your nipples, Sunghoon deepens the kiss, swallowing the sound you make in your throat. Jake laughs quietly. "So obedient," he murmurs against your neck, biting gently. "You always let him kiss you like that when I'm watching?" You can't even answer. Their hands are everywhere now, Jake is palming your breast, Sunghoon's thumb stroking your thigh, pushing the hem of your shirt higher, higher. You shiver. Sunghoon pulls away just enough to look at you. "You okay?"

You nod quickly. "Yeah. I—yeah." Jake's grin sharpens. He leans in again, brushing his lips against your ear.

"Wanna show him what you got him for his birthday?"

You go still. Your breath catches hard in your throat. "Jake—" Sunghoon looks confused at first. "What?" Jake's voice is low now, hot against your ear. "Come on. Don't be shy. He's been so good today. You know he'll love it." You hesitate, heart pounding, your skin prickling as heat floods through you. Jake's fingers trail down your spine, featherlight.

"You said you wanted to be his gift, his birthday is in a few hours," he whispers, "so give it to him." You glance at Sunghoon. He's watching you closely now, his expression a mix of curiosity and hunger, like he's not sure what you're about to do but he wants it. Badly. So you shift on your knees, above Jake, and with shaky hands, you pull down the waistband of your shorts just enough. Enough for him to see it. The soft, glinting edge of the buttplug catches the light—delicate, blush pink, shaped like a bow. It fits snug between the curve of your cheeks, resting there with perfect intention. You shift slightly, thighs pressing together, back arched just enough.. "Is that...?"

"You can fuck her here, baby," Jake says behind you, tapping your ass cheek with one finger, his voice proud as he brushes your hair off your shoulder so he can kiss your neck. "Kept her like that all week. For you." Sunghoon doesn't move for a second. He's stunned. And then he exhales, almost like a groan, dragging a hand through his hair as his gaze drops to your ass again. "You're kidding," he mutters. "You actually..."

"She wanted to," Jake says, dragging his hand down your back, then squeezing. "She asked. You should've seen her last week, all squirmy and shy and so fucking wet the second I put it in. Had to eat her pussy so she'd stop whining." Sunghoon looks dazed. "Holy shit." You feel Jake smile against your shoulder. There's a long pause. Then the pad of Sunghoon's thumb trails lightly down the curve of your spine, featherlight, until he reaches just above the plug. He doesn't touch it. Not yet. He just lets his hand rest there.

"You've never done this before." It's not a question. He already knows. You shake your head, glancing at him over your shoulder. "No." Something in his expression shifts—something slow and low and almost solemn, like he's trying not to break something delicate in front of him. Jake watches him carefully. "Well?" he prompts. "You gonna thank her, birthday boy?" Sunghoon smiles faintly. It's crooked, quiet, full of everything he doesn't say out loud. "With you sitting over there like a smug little shit?"

Jake just grins wider. "Then come get your girl, Hoon."

"Told you he'd like it, baby." Jake says, nuzzling his nose in your neck. "Best birthday ever?"

"Best fucking birthday ever." Sunghoon muttered as he got on his knees, behind you, pressing you further into Jake so you were perfectly arched, with your ass and pussy directly in his face. He stared at the buttplug for a second longer before pulling it out slowly, watching how your body reacted to the object being removed from you. And audibly groaning at the whimper you make. The moment his tongue made contact with your dripping heat, your entire body tensed, a quiet gasp slipping from your lips as your nails dug into Jake's shoulders. "Shit," he hissed under his breath, his voice vibrating against your skin. "You're unreal."

Your lashes fluttered as you melted into the feeling, a soft moan escaping while your hips instinctively rolled toward his mouth. Sunghoon shifted lower, tongue diving deep before dragging back up slowly, deliberately. Then he started mouthing at you—messy, open-mouthed kisses that left your thighs trembling. His tongue circled your clit lazily, then slid back down again, tasting everything. "I didn't even know I wanted this," he murmured, voice husky, sending a chill up your spine. One of his hands splayed across your lower back, gently coaxing you closer to Jake, who held you steady like an anchor in the storm.

"Easy," Jake whispered, brushing a kiss to your temple. "Just breathe, baby."

Then Sunghoon's tongue slipped somewhere new—somewhere you thought the plug had prepared you for. A startled cry ripped from your throat as your body jolted, clutching at Jake in shock. The sensation was foreign, startling, and then the pleasure began to bloom. Sunghoon held you open with both hands, tongue exploring without hesitation, while Jake's fingers found your clit and started working slow, maddening circles over it. "That's it," Jake murmured, watching your expression melt. "That's my good girl. You like that?" You tried to respond, to say anything, but then Sunghoon pushed deeper, his tongue breaching you completely, and a broken, helpless moan tore free from your chest.

"Ah—Hoonie!" The feeling was indescribable—so intense and overwhelming, your mind could barely keep up. He moved between your openings with practiced ease—one second his tongue was circling your tightest rim, the next he was dragging a slow, obscene lick down to your soaked pussy. A low groan rumbled from his chest, lips slick as he devoured everything you gave him, like he couldn't get enough.

"Can I use my finger?" he asked, voice rough with want. You nodded with a shaky inhale, and Jake brushed another kiss to your cheek, his fingers still rubbing tight, unrelenting circles over your clit that made your thighs tremble.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Sunghoon muttered, one slick-coated finger gently circling your puckered entrance, playing with the sensitive muscle but holding back from fully pushing in—just yet.

When your body finally softens against Sunghoon's, he eases a finger in, pushing just past the entrance before pausing. "Do you want me to stop?" he asks, his voice quieter than usual, checking your reaction. Your answer was muffled, your face buried in the curve of Jake's neck, a quiet, shaky, "No." Jake lifts his head to speak for you. "She said no." Sunghoon's finger presses in deeper, slick with your arousal as he gently works you open. His movements are slow, precise, and devoted—though the way his jaw clenched betrays just how badly he wanted to lose control. He lets out a sharp breath through his nose as he watches the way your spine arcs, your body pressed close to Jake's, the tight clench of muscle around his finger making his cock twitch in anticipation.

"Just like that," he murmurs. You inhale sharply when a second finger slips in beside the first, stretching you further. The sensation is unfamiliar, even bordering on too much—but his patience grounds you. Jake's fingers lazily circle your clit while his mouth trails along your collarbone, muttering soft praise against your skin. "Perfect, baby. You're doing so perfect." The moment Sunghoon is confident you're ready, and satisfied with how pilant you've become, he withdraws with shaking hands and fumbles at the waistband of his shorts. His cock sprang free, red and swollen, the tension in his body palpable as he positions himself behind you. One hand sliding to your lower back, gently pushing you down into Jake's chest while his mouth ghosted over your shoulder.

"Go slow, Hoonie," Jake whispers, tilting your face to his and licking at your bottom lip in a sweet distraction. Sunghoon gives him a subtle nod, and for a moment, it really looked like he'd listen—until his palm lands hard across your ass with a sharp slap. "Ah!"

"You've been walking around with a plug in you all week like a filthy little slut," he growled. "You knew I'd lose my mind over it, didn't you, baby?" One hand grips your waist firmly while the other guides his cock to your entrance. The first press of him inside has you whimpering instantly. Jake was quick to soothe you though, brushing his lips against your ear. "It's okay, princess," "it's gonna feel so good real soon, I promise." He lowers his head to capture your nipple in his mouth, gently sucking as you try to catch your breath. Behind you, Sunghoon groans, full-bodied and desperate. "Fucking hell. So tight—Jesus Christ." His restraint was unraveling by the second. Jake's hand trails down, spreading you wider to give Sunghoon better access, and the sound that tears from him is downright feral. "Oh, fuck—Jake—yeah, just like that."

Jake doesn't stop. One hand holds you open while the other resumes slow, deliberate circles over your clit, making your thighs tremble. "Yunnie—" you gasp, voice cracking as you whine his name into his ear.

He smiles against your cheek. "Yeah, pretty girl? You like that?" "You like Hoonie fucking your tight little hole open?" You nod frantically, eyes glassy and unfocused, pleasure washing over your features like a fever. Jake coos sweetly, lips ghosting over your cheek.

"Aww, does it feel good, baby?" he asks, fingers never slowing on your clit. Your voice comes out barely above a whisper, breathless and shaky. "Faster..." That one word sends a ripple through the air. Neither of them ask who you're talking to—both of them just react. Jake's fingers quicken, pressing tighter, circling faster, more precise. Behind you, Sunghoon grunts low in his throat and adjusts his grip on your hips, driving into you with sharper, deeper thrusts now, dragging loud moans from your throat with every push. The stretch has your legs trembling, your body sandwiched between them, completely overwhelmed. Jake kisses the corner of your mouth, not breaking rhythm for a second. "So needy, huh? You want both of us to ruin you, is that it?"

Sunghoon's fingers dig harder into your waist. "Look at her," he rasps. "Can barely keep her eyes open." Your breath stutters again as Jake slides two fingers into your mouth, letting you suck them automatically. "That's it," Jake whispered. "Good girl. Just take it."

Sunghoon's hips snap harder now, every thrust making your body jolt forward into Jake's chest. He hisses at the feel of you clenching, practically growling through his teeth. "She's squeezing me so tight."

"Because she's close," Jake smirked, pulling his fingers from your mouth to pinch your nipple. "Aren't you, pretty baby?" You can't even speak—just another frantic nod, a sob of pleasure tearing out of your throat as the pace refuses to let up. It's too much, but you don't want it to stop. You can't even imagine asking them to stop. And neither of them plan to. Just as your legs begin to shake, as the pleasure surging to unbearable heights, Sunghoon grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks you upright off Jake's chest with startling ease. You gasp, dizzy from the sudden movement, your body still fluttering from the stimulation. "Open your mouth, baby" he orders, voice dark and low. "Suck Yunnie off." Jake's eyes widen for a split second, but he was already pulling his shorts down, cock flushed and leaking. He guides it to your lips, and the second you part them, he groans—loud, shameless, head tilting back as he sinks into your warmth. "Fuck—so obedient, baby," Jake pants, cupping your face as you take him deeper. "God, you're perfect. Just like that." You moan around him, tongue swirling, letting him fuck into your mouth with shallow thrusts. But the moment is cut sharp when Sunghoon's palm lands on your ass again—hard and punishing. You jolt, muffled whimper vibrating around Jake's cock. "She's so good," Sunghoon mumbles behind you like he can't believe it, voice wrecked, hips slamming into you now with barely restrained aggression. "Tight little hole—fuck, I can't..."

Your body is bouncing between them, stretched, full, completely claimed. Jake is panting through gritted teeth, hands trembling as he tries to control himself. "She's gonna make me cum—shit, you're gonna make me—" Sunghoon growls, wrapping an arm around your waist and driving into you so deep your entire body shudders. "Don't you dare finish before her." Jake groans like it physically hurts to stop but pulls back slightly, just enough for you to suck the tip, desperate and messy, while Sunghoon fucks you into the edge.

"You close, baby?" Sunghoon asks, voice broken. "You gonna cum all over my cock like a good little slut?"

Your moan is the only answer he needs. Sunghoon reaches down himself to circle your clit with practiced fingers and you absolutely break—body tensing, legs trembling, a high-pitch cry escaping past Jake's cock as your orgasm rips through you like a violent wave. "That's it," Jake whispers, watching your eyes roll back, "Good girl, fuck—look at you."

Sunghoon curses under his breath, hips stuttering as he finally lets go, spilling deep inside you with a loud moan, his forehead pressed to your shoulder. You're a trembling, boneless mess between them—used, adored, completely undone. But your mouth never stops sucking Jake off, his grip tightens in your hair as your lips work over him, cheeks hollowed, eyes glassy from overstimulation. He was already close—your tongue too eager, your mouth too warm, and your throat too obedient. "Fuck—gonna cum," he says, trying to pull back, but you suck harder, moaning around him as if daring him to finish there. "Wait—baby, swallow it—like I like—" Too late. You already were. Your throat bobs with each swallow, taking every last drop before he even finishes the command. Jake stares down at you, chest heaving. "Jesus Christ," he breathes, his cock twitching in your mouth. "That was so fucking hot."

When he finally slips free, you look dazed, lips swollen and glossy with spit, eyes fluttering as if trying to hold on to consciousness. Sunghoon still has you gripped by the waist, slowly pulling out, and you whimper from the sheer sensitivity, his cum immediately beginning to drip from your hole. Your legs give out but they catch you before you hit the floor, gently guiding you down onto the couch. You collapse sideways, chest rising and falling fast, totally limp, dazed and trembling. Neither of them speak for a second—both staring at the way Sunghoon's cum leaks from your freshly used hole, trailing slow and thick down your thighs and onto the leather. Jake adjusts himself, sweat-slick and still catching his breath, watching you like you were art. "Fuck," he whispers. "That's—Fuck."

Sunghoon stays crouched beside you, thumb brushing gently over your hip. He doesn’t say anything at first. Just watches. Quiet and intense with his jaw clenched.

Your breathing is shallow now, your body utterly spent, limbs heavy and tingling from the overstimulation. The room is silent save for Jake's slow, steady breaths where he's slumped back against the couch, almost half-asleep and completely blissed out. Sunghoon doesn’t say anything at first. He just looks at you—really looks at you, eyes slowly sweeping over your trembling frame, the marks on your hips, the slick mess between your thighs. Then he moves gently, one arm sliding beneath your knees, the other curling behind your back.

You can’t even protest as he picked you up, bridal-style, tucking your head against his chest. "Are you sore?" he murmurs as he carries you into the bathroom. His voice has lost all its edge, soft and concerned now, like every piece of him is now tuned to you. "Do you need anything? Water?" You shake your head sleepily, just clinging to him. He kisses the top of your head pulling you into the warm shower. He’s so careful with you, moving slowly, running his soapy hands down your back and legs, washing your hair, and massaging your scalp, whispering how good you were, how proud he is of you. You barely say a word, just hum softly and lean into him, letting him take care of everything.

Afterward, he towel-dries you with gentle strokes, slips one of his oversized shirts over your head, and helps you into bed. He comes back out into the living room freshly showered in only his sweats, glancing over at the couch where Jake is still out cold. "Jake," he calls, voice low but firm. "Go shower. Come to bed." Jake grumbles, half-laughs, but drags himself up, muttering something about needing ten minutes and a gallon of water. By the time he joins you both in bed, the lights were dim, and Sunghoon has you cradled against his chest, your body finally starting to relax in the warmth and comfort of his hold. Jake slides in behind you, arm draped lazily over your waist. You blink up at Sunghoon, your lips brushing his cheek in a slow, grateful kiss. "Happy birthday, Hoonie." He stills. And then he smiles—soft and rare, a kind of vulnerable happiness blooming in his eyes as he looks down at you. "You really are everything, baby." He whispers back.

The light spilling in through the white linen curtains is soft and golden, the kind that only happens near the ocean—quiet, slow, and drenched in warmth. You wake to the scent of salt and boyish musk, buried between the two people you've come to crave like breath. Jake is sprawled on your left, arm thrown haphazardly around your waist, his cheek smushed against the pillow. Sunghoon is to your right, chest bare, lashes fluttering ever so slightly as he sleeps. You feel the dull ache between your thighs—the kind you've come to love, the kind that reminds you of everything they did to you the night before. It's intimate, almost sweet in its soreness. Like a love letter written in bruises and breathless moans.

Carefully, you shift to sit up, brushing your hair from your face. But in your movement, your hand slips just slightly across the waistband of Sunghoon's boxers, pressing against the very obvious morning effect there. He groans softly through a smirk, eyes still closed. "Didn't get enough yesterday, pretty girl?" His voice is deep and gravelly with sleep, thick like honey. You flush but smile, heart fluttering. Leaning down, you kiss him gently, your lips brushing his like a secret. "Happy birthday, baby," you whisper, fingers brushing his hair back. He finally opens his eyes, they're glassy with sleep but locked on you. One hand snakes around your waist and pulls you down so you're flush against his chest, sprawled on top of him. "Thank you," he murmurs, hands splayed across your back. "You're the best gift I've ever gotten."

Behind you, Jake groans and stretches, the sheets rustling. "Ugh, what time is it?" he mumbles, voice muffled against the pillow. Then he turns, eyes still half-shut, and reaches over your body to cup Sunghoon's jaw. He leans in and kisses him, lazy and affectionate. "Happy birthday, babe," he mutters, his voice low and warm. Sunghoon chuckles beneath you, the vibration rippling through your chest. "Best way to wake up," he says. You're wrapped up in limbs and heat and love—one boy beneath you, one boy beside you, both of them looking at you like you're theirs. And you are, you can tell in the way Sunghoon's fingers are lazy where they trace patterns on your bare back, and you're still laying on top of him when he speaks, voice muffled slightly by your hair. "So," he hums, "what should we do today?" You lift your head just a little, looking down at him, lips brushing his jaw. Jake's arm tightens around your waist from behind, like he doesn't want to give you up just yet. You hum too, thinking, but Jake's the one who answers first.

"We could invite a few of our friends up," he says casually, his voice still thick with sleep. "Just something chill. Intimate." Sunghoon snorts beneath you. "No one's gonna drive six hours to celebrate my birthday." You stifle a laugh and mumble, "I don't even have any friends," your tone a little too dry, the snort at the end giving away how little you care. Jake groans like you've personally offended him. "That's not true," he sighs, leaning up on one elbow to look at you, brow furrowed. "You have us." You twist around to meet his eyes and raise a brow. "You're not my friends." Your tone is calm, almost thoughtful. "Actually, I've been thinking...I kind of want to make new ones. Maybe girls, I need to be around less testosterone."

There's a pause. Sunghoon grunts underneath you like he's just been stabbed, his hands tightening ever so slightly on your hips. Jake scoffs. "You say girls like we'd allow it be guys."

"Jungwon's cool," Jake adds after a beat, tone a little brighter, like he's offering a genuine solution. "We could all hang out more with him when we get back." That earns an actual laugh from Sunghoon, sharp and smug. "Why are you pushing this Jungwon agenda so hard?" Jake's head snaps to him. "Because he's sweet," he says, almost defensive, like he's ready to argue. "And normal. He's not weirdly obsessed with stock prices or adrenaline or—" he gestures toward Sunghoon, "—being emotionally constipated." You groan and start crawling over Sunghoon's chest, pushing your hair back as you rise up on your knees. "I'll pass on Jungwon, I want girlfriends, " you say with a sigh, standing at the edge of the bed and stretching, "also because I can't even look him in the eye without picturing you—" You turn and point at Sunghoon, "—bending him over." Jake chokes on a laugh while Sunghoon groans, covering his face with a pillow. You grin wickedly, bend at the waist in full theatrical performance, and moan, "Sunghoon—ahh, fuck, right there!" tossing your head back dramatically like you imagine Jungwon must've. Jake loses it, flopping onto his back in laughter, and Sunghoon pulls the pillow off just to glare playfully at you.

"Minx," he mutters. Jake props himself up against the headboard, sheet sliding low on his hips, eyes still a little puffy with sleep but already gleaming with mischief. "Okay but seriously," he starts, raking a hand through his hair. "If we do invite people, it could be fun. Just a small thing. Jay, maybe. Jungwon. Heeseung, obviously." my Sunghoon groans again. "Obviously." Jake shrugs. "And I guess that means Yunjin would have to come too," he tacks on, his voice dropping into something heavier—flat, reluctant, with a bitterness he doesn't bother hiding. You pause mid-stretch in the doorway, your hand frozen on the bathroom doorframe. The annoyance bubbles up before you can swallow it. "Okay, can one of you just say it already?" Jake lifts a brow, watching you. You cross your arms. "What is it with you two and Yunjin? You act like she poisoned your drinks every time her name comes up." Sunghoon doesn't answer—just makes a face and throws his arm over his eyes like he can't even deal with the subject.

Jake, on the other hand, doesn't miss a beat. He stretches both arms over his head, tone dry, "Aside from the fact that she called you a whore to your face and is a raging cunt?" He glances at you, all faux innocence. "Not much, really." Your jaw drops a little. "Jake."

"What?" he says, eyes wide. "You were there. You heard her." Sunghoon lifts his arm from his face just to mutter, "He's not wrong."

Jake points. "See? Thank you." You roll your eyes and walk back over to the bed, standing at the foot of it now, arms still crossed. "She's my cousin."

"She's a bitch," Jake corrects smoothly, laying back against the headboard again. "Family ties don't exempt her from that." Sunghoon nods in agreement, lips tugging into a little smirk like he's secretly enjoying your disbelief. Jake squints at you, suddenly more serious. "You know we'd never say anything if it wasn't about you. You're too nice to call her out, so someone has to." You blink, caught off guard. Their protectiveness always hits a little harder when you're not expecting it. Jake sighs dramatically, kicking the sheet off his legs. "Just think about it, okay? Birthday gathering. Limited guest list. Preferably minus raging narcissists."

Sunghoon chimes in, eyes still closed, "She can come. As long as she stays six feet away from my girl and doesn't speak unless spoken to." Jake lifts his hand like he's making a pact. "Seconded." You mutter under your breath, turning for the bathroom again. "I can't even deal with you two right now." And from behind you, with a laugh in his voice—Jake calls out to you, "Baby! Come back!"

Turns out Jake was right—there is a very short list of things people wouldn't do for Sunghoon. Even driving six hours just because Jake sent out a half-assed invite to a beach house birthday? Not off the table, apparently. Only a handful of people came—it was still intimate, just louder now. Warmer. A little more chaotic. Heeseung showed up first, of course, with Yunjin clinging to his arm and sunglasses on despite it being overcast. You'd said hi to her, trying to be polite, trying to keep things smooth, and she didn't not respond...she just sort of tilted her head and said, "Bold outfit choice," before letting her eyes skim you up and down like you were something she'd never choose from the rack. And when you'd mentioned casually that Sunghoon had picked it out, she made that face. The one that was all tight-lipped and pinched like she'd just bitten into something sour and needed everyone to know.

Jake had seen it too. Of course he had. And he'd pulled you away before you could respond, guiding you across the patio by the small of your back with a too-sweet, "Let's get you away from the rotting energy, yeah?" He introduced you to Jay next—smirking a little as he did it, like he was proud to show you off. Jay had been polite, chill, charming in that low-effort way that felt like it came naturally to him. You liked him instantly. Then Jungwon pulled up, a little later, looking tan and soft and friendly, and you weren't sure what you were expecting—but it wasn't the way he smiled when he saw you. It was easy, bright, like he actually wanted to be there. Like he wanted to talk to you. He complimented your outfit right away. "You look amazing, by the way," he even asked how you were like he meant it. And you wanted to like him. You almost did. But every time he looked at you with those kind eyes, all you could think about was Sunghoon's hands on him, Sunghoon's mouth on his neck, the sound he must've made when he came and that was the problem.

No matter how nice he was, you couldn't unsee it. You couldn't unknow it.

It’s well into the afternoon now, the sun has started its slow descent over the ocean, and the birthday energy has shifted from sleepy and sweet to loose-limbed and sticky with alcohol. You're at the drinks table trying to stop Jake from going too hard, fingers wrapped around his wrist as he sloppily pours a round of shots he doesn't need. "Jake," you murmur, half-laughing, half-serious, "no more." He grins at you with that dangerous twinkle in his eye, the one that always means trouble, and holds a full shot glass just out of your reach. "But it's a celebration," he says with a mock pout, swaying slightly as he clutches the edge of the table for balance. You reach up to snatch the glass, and just then, he accidentally tilts it forward, spilling cold liquor straight onto your bare chest, where the low-cut neckline of your bikini top leaves skin exposed. "Oh nooo," he says, faux-gasping with a shit-eating grin before he dips his head low, mouth hot and wet against your skin as he licks the shot clean with a giggle. "Can't waste good tequila."

"Jake!" you squeal, swatting at him while laughing. You're barely able to regain control of the situation when Sunghoon appears at Jake's side, calm and unimpressed as he hands him a bottle of water. "That's enough," he says, low and even. Jake—drunk and flushed and still grinning—immediately drops the shot glass and takes the water with a nod, like Sunghoon's word is law. "Okay," he says softly, like a scolded dog who doesn't mind being scolded. He flops down onto a nearby stool, still sipping, and you follow, your fingers brushing gently through his hair. He hums under your touch, his lashes fluttering. Then, out of nowhere, he mumbles, "I love you. So much." It's quiet but genuine, a little slurred but certain. You smile, brushing his bangs off his forehead, your chest warm with it. But then out of the corner of your eye you see her. Yunjin. Leaning a little too close to Jay on the terrace chairs, her fingers brushing his arm like she doesn't even realize she's doing it. Her legs crossed just so, laughing a little too loudly at whatever he said. And Jay's not exactly pulling away either. Your gaze shifts instinctively and catches Sunghoon's. He's already looking, but not at you. His eyes are locked on Heeseung, who's walking toward the pair now with a stiff jaw and a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

He comes to a stop in front of them, looking down at Jay like he's trying to make sense of it. "Dude," Heeseung says, his voice casual but cold, "why are you so all over my girlfriend?" Jay blinks up at him, smile faltering. And just like that, the tension at the table spikes—sharp, quiet, and full of all the things that haven't been said yet. Jay's eyes flick to Heeseung's, expression hardening into something mean and brash, so different from the charming guy you met just hours ago, the one Jake had introduced so proudly. "I'm all over your girlfriend?" Jay scoffs, standing now, his tone loud and sharp enough to cut through the sound of the waves. "She's the one who came onto me. She always comes onto me." There's a shift. A drop in pressure like the air's been sucked out of the house. Jake, still perched on the stool beside you, squints and lets out a half-drunk, "Uh oh." You slap your hand over his mouth without even looking.

Heeseung's jaw flexes. "What the fuck do you mean always? She always comes onto you?" Jay throws his hands up, exasperated. "Come on, Heeseung. Everyone knows your girlfriend is a fucking slut. You're just the only one too blind to see it." Gasps break out like shattering glass. Someone actually says "Oh my god." The music comically stutters to a stop. And Yunjin? She just blinks but doesn't even deny it. Your pulse is thudding in your ears as Jay keeps going, eyes lit up like he's been holding this in for way too long. "Why are you even coming after me?" he snaps, stepping forward, "You didn't seem to have a problem when she threw herself at Sunghoon too."

Silence. Your feel your body go ice cold, turning your head slowly toward Sunghoon, your mouth dry, your breath caught somewhere deep in your throat. But he's already looking at you. Already shaking his head, already panicking. "Baby," he says, voice trembling for the first time ever, "I swear—it didn't happen. She tried, yeah, but it didn't fucking happen." He turns to Jay, eyes wild. "Jay! Are you fucking kidding me right now!?" But it's too late. Heeseung steps back like he's been physically hit, eyes wide and locked on Sunghoon now. "Are you fucking serious?" he breathes, voice deadly quiet. "You knew?" You can feel it, the moment the entire mood shatters—cracking open into something ugly and raw. Everyone's watching now. No one's moving. No one dares to breathe. And you’re standing there, still stuck on that single, damning word. Tried.

Jake, still half-drunk and slow on the uptake, lets out another one of his too-loud, too-poorly-timed laughs. "I mean...Yunjin is kind of a slut," he mumbles with a shrug, like that'll somehow ease the tension. It doesn't. Yunjin snaps her gaze to him so fast her sunglasses nearly fall off. And that's when it breaks. That last thread holding her in place. "I'm the slut?" she hisses, taking a step forward and jabbing a finger in your direction. "Not my cousin who you and Sunghoon turned into your fucking sex slave?" The air splits. Everyone flinches. Jake immediately sobers like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over his head. He stands, voice low and sharp, "Watch your fucking mouth." Sunghoon's right behind him, jaw clenched. "Don't you dare talk about her like that." But you're already stepping back. Heart pounding. Face burning. Stomach lurching. The words crawl under your skin like fire, because this—this sick, twisted narrative—is what they've been hiding. What they've been keeping from you. Your voice comes out clipped, shaking. "Don't. Don't defend me."

Yunjin smirks like a predator who's smelled blood. "Ooou," she purrs mockingly, "look who finally grew a spine. All it took was getting dicked down, uh?" Your fists curl at your sides, and Jake growls something under his breath, but Yunjin's not finished. "You're so fucking pathetic," she spits. "You let them touch you. You let them fuck you after everything they did. You think that makes you powerful now? Makes you special? Please. You were a joke before, and now you're just a joke who moans." There's a second where no one says anything—where it feels like the whole world tilts, and even the ocean forgets to crash. But then someone speaks, "Come on, Yunjin." Jungwon. Calm, smooth, and a little amused. Arms crossed. Leaning casually against the side of the bar like he's been watching a game unfold. "You're just jealous," he says with a laugh. "You couldn't have either of them if you tried." He smiles, then adds, just to twist the knife, "And turns out—you did."

Jungwon’s words don’t seem to stop her though, it seems like she can’t stop, like she’s smelled your weakness. Spitting venom with a bitter little smile, fully convinced that out of everyone here, you're the easiest to break. "You act so fucking innocent," she snaps, taking a step closer, "but you're just as desperate as the rest of us. Probably worse. Newsflash, cousin—being passed between two guys doesn't make you liberated. It makes you a fucking whore." For a beat, it seems like no one will say anything, no one will move. But you do. You calmly step forward and Yunjin barely has time to react before your hand flies across her face, hard and open-handed. The crack of the slap echoes over the stunned silence of the house. She gasps, stumbling slightly, blinking like she can't quite believe it happened. But she recovers quickly, her face twisting in fury as she lunges at you, teeth bared, hands reaching like claws. Sunghoon is faster than her though, throwing himself between you just as she lashes out, his back turned to her. She slams her hands against his shoulders, but he doesn't budge. His only focus is you. His eyes find yours instantly, wild and pleading. "I can't believe you," you whisper, voice low and shaking and full of heartbreak. Then you turn and walk away. "Baby—wait, Y/N!" Sunghoon calls after you, voice cracking. He spins to follow, panic flooding his face. Jake plants a hand on Yunjin's shoulder and shoves her back, firm but not cruel. "Get a grip," he mutters, then glances toward Heeseung, voice low. "Get your girl." But Heeseung just lets out a short, bitter laugh. "I'm done with this bitch," he says, already walking toward the edge of the deck. "Jay can have her. Or Sunghoon. Or whoever the fuck else she tried to fuck while we were together." He doesn't look back. Just walks straight toward the path that leads out of the house. And behind you, everything collapses.

The drive back from the beach house feels interminable. You're curled up in the back seat, forehead pressed to the window, headphones in, eyes trained on nothing. Every few minutes, Jake glances at you through the rearview mirror. Sunghoon tries to look back, but you never meet his eyes. The tension is so thick it might as well be physical, like a wall separating you from them. They try though, Jake's voice is quiet at first. "You okay back there?" You don't respond. "Do you want something to eat?" Sunghoon adds. "We could stop somewhere."

"Not hungry," you mumble. Jake sighs after a long pause. "Princess, come on. Just talk to us." You don't, you plug your headphones in tighter and shut your eyes, trying to tune them out. And the silence stretches all the way home. Arriving at the apartment, you still don't say a word. You're out of the car and up the elevator before they've even made out of the car. You beeline for Sunghoon’s bedroom, flinging open the closet, and yanking clothes off hangers, fast and frantic. Your suitcase hits the bed with a thud. Shoes. Pajamas. Toothbrush. Anything you might need. "Wait—baby," Sunghoon's voice rushes in from the doorway. "What are you doing?" You don't answer, you don't even look at him. "Don't do this. Please," he says, stepping closer, voice almost cracking just a little. "We can talk about it. We can work through this."

Jake appears behind him, brows furrowed. "Don't let what Yunjin said get in your head. She's just jealous. Jungwon said it—she was trying to get a rise out of you." You freeze, your back to them. One breath. Then another. "It's not just about Yunjin," you snap, spinning around. "It's everything." They both fall silent. "We’re about to go back to school and you think people won't talk? You think they won't look at me like I'm just some kind of—" your voice breaks, "—some kind of toy you two share?" Sunghoon flinches. Jake's eyes go wide. "There was never any time for me to adjust. I was just—thrown into your world. Your friends, your rules, your dynamic. And I thought I could keep up. I really did." You're breathless now. Holding back tears. You zip up your bag with trembling hands. "I just—" you whisper, barely audible, "—I just need space to figure things out."

Jake takes a step forward, jaw clenched. "You can't do that." But before he can finish, Sunghoon cuts in gently, "Where will you go?" His voice is full of worry. "You can't seriously be thinking of going back to your apartment. Not with Yunjin still there—"

"I'm going to my parents'," you say.

You're zipping your overnight bag when you feel their eyes on you again. They don't say anything at first. Just watch you move, like they still can't believe this is happening. Sunghoon breaks the silence. Quiet. Heavy. "Fine." Jake snaps his head toward him. "Fine?" You can’t look at either of them. Jake steps forward. "For how long?" he asks you, voice low, desperate. "A few days? A week? What does space even mean?" Before you can respond, Sunghoon speaks again—steady, but restrained, like it's costing him something. "I'll drop you off at the train station." Jake turns on him. "Are you kidding me, Sunghoon?"

Sunghoon doesn't waver. "She said she needs space." Jake scoffs, almost laughing in disbelief. "So that's it? You're just gonna let her leave?"

"She's not a prisoner, Jake," Sunghoon says, and for the first time, there's a faint edge in his voice. "She said she needs space, so we give her space." Jake doesn't reply. His jaw tightens, like he's fighting the urge to yell, cry, beg—maybe all three. You swallow the lump in your throat and finally lift your eyes. "Thank you," you whisper to Sunghoon. He nods once, jaw clenched, eyes never leaving yours. Jake's arms fall to his sides. He looks so small all of a sudden, like he knows it’s been decided.

You genuinely don't remember much of the drive to the train station. Not the hum of the engine, not the silence in the car, not the way Sunghoon kept glancing at you like he was memorizing you for the last time.

You just remember the feeling. That sinking ache in your chest like guilt and grief wrapped into one, mix with the fear that you were doing the wrong thing, even though every part of you screamed that it was the only thing you could do. Sunghoon carried your bag to the platform. Jake didn't come. When your train pulled in, Sunghoon hugged you so tightly you could barely breathe, and whispered, "Please come back soon," like it physically hurt him to let go. You cried quietly the whole ride home, cheek pressed to the cold window. Your phone buzzed the moment the train started moving.

yunnie: I'm sorry. Please don't shut me out. We love you. I love you.

You didn't respond, just cause you didn’t know what to say. When your parents picked you up, it was like nothing had happened. Like you hadn't fallen apart. Like you weren't carrying pieces of your broken heart in your duffel bag. They were warm, soft and so blissfully unaware. Your mom made your favorite dinner that night. Your dad teased you about how pale you looked. They smiled. They laughed. They welcomed you home. And for a second, you almost believed you could pretend again. That none of it had happened. That you were just a girl coming home from school for a break. But then you lay in your old bed, and the tears came again. Every night, you scrolled through their messages—Jake's in the beginning, desperate and unfiltered. Sunghoon's every single day without fail, soft voice notes whispering I miss you, angel. I miss you so much. Sometimes he told you what he ate that day or he’d tell you a memory that reminded him of you. Other times he just said goodnight.

You read every word. Listened to every audio. And then, you locked your phone, turned your face to your pillow. And let your heartbreak sit with you like a ghost in your childhood room.

It's been weeks, maybe. Jake has lost track of time.

Sunghoon marks every day by your silence. You're gone—and everything's gone quiet in the worst way. The apartment feels too big without your voice, without your footsteps, without the soft way you'd call for one of them from the kitchen or the bedroom or the shower. Without you, it all feels cold. Stale. Off.

Sunghoon texts you every morning and every night.

He sends voice notes sometimes—soft, unpolished things that trail off at the end because he doesn't know how to stop talking to you without hearing something back. You rarely reply. When you do, it's polite. Surface-level. Enough to let him know you're alive, but not enough to let him in.

Jake tried too, at first. Tried calling, texting, joking, even begging. The first few days, he camped out on the couch, checking his phone every five minutes, voice breaking whenever he mentioned your name. He left your favorite snacks on the counter, like you'd somehow walk through the door and see them and forget everything. But after a week of silence, he started to withdraw. Got quieter. Moodier. By the second week, he stopped texting altogether. He still keeps your contact pinned at the top of his phone—still opens your thread sometimes just to stare at the last message you sent—but he doesn't send anything new.

Sunghoon notices. They don't say it, but something in them has started to split. They used to move in sync—choreographed without trying. Now, they barely speak unless it's about logistics. Dinners are eaten in silence. The living room feels colder, they both start sleeping in their own rooms instead of choosing one randomly to sleep in like when you were around. You were the thing holding it all together and now that you're gone, nothing feels right. It seems like neither of them know how to fix it without you.

The apartment is dark when Jake stumbles in, the front door clicking shut behind him with a careless thud. He kicks off his shoes, jacket half hanging off his shoulder, cologne and alcohol clinging to him like a second skin. Sunghoon is on the couch, still awake. The TV is on, but the screen's silent—just soft blue light casting shadows across his face. His jaw clenches when he hears Jake. "What time is it?" he asks, not turning his head. Jake scoffs, sways a little as he heads toward the kitchen. "Relax, dad."

"You've been out every night this week." Jake yanks open the fridge, grabs a water, slams it shut. "So?"

Sunghoon finally stands, voice sharp now. "Jake. What the fuck are you doing?" Jake turns to him, eyes glassy but burning. "What do you mean what am I doing?"

"You're spiraling," Sunghoon bites out. "Coming home drunk, ignoring everyone, ignoring me—" Jake throws his hands up. "Oh my god, fuck off."

"What happened to fighting for her?" Sunghoon's voice cracks around the edges. "What happened to not giving up—?"

"She left, Sunghoon!" Jake explodes. "She abandoned us. You think I'm acting out? No. I'm reacting. To the fact that the girl I love walked away and she's probably not fucking coming back!" Sunghoon flinches. But he holds his ground. Steps forward. "We can't give up." Jake laughs bitterly. "We already lost her. You just haven't admitted it to yourself."

"No," Sunghoon snaps. "You're giving up because that's easier than sitting in the pain. Because if you stay fucking drunk and distracted, you don't have to feel how much it hurts. But I do. Every second of every day." Jake says nothing, he truly can’t. And for a long moment, the only sound in the apartment is both of them breathing hard, like they've been fighting for hours. Like the heartbreak is something they're choking on. "She's not gone," Sunghoon whispers finally, more to himself than Jake. "She's just...figuring things out." Jake doesn't respond. He just walks past him and disappears into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Sunghoon's eyes fall to his phone on the coffee table, where one more message sits unsent. He hits send anyway. "Goodnight, baby. We miss you."

Sunghoon loves Jake. He really does. But these days, he can barely look at him without feeling like he might snap. He knows Jake's hurting too, but it's different. Jake hurts like a wildfire—chaotic, messy, scorching everything in its path. Sunghoon's hurt is quieter. Slower. The kind that sits in the corners of a room and never really leaves. He now spends most of his days avoiding the apartment. There's a small café down the street—one with frosted windows and chipped mugs, where the baristas don't ask questions and let him linger too long. He sits there for hours, headphones in, untouched coffee cooling in front of him. Watching people walk by the window. Wondering if you're eating enough. If you've made new friends like you said you wanted to. If you miss him. He wonders what he could’ve done better, over and over, until the memory of Jake's voice in the middle of that fight resurfaces, she left, Sunghoon. And he hates it—because maybe Jake's right. You did leave and maybe you're not coming back. He's staring blankly at his phone when it buzzes against the tabletop. One message. Your name. Your contact photo. His breath catches, his heart slipping straight to the pit of his stomach. He fumbles unlocking the screen, hands shaking so badly he nearly drops it. And there it is.

You: hi hoonie.

Two words is all it takes to make the whole café blur, to make his vision fog, dissolving the noise and shifting his entire world back into place—just two words. He stares at the screen like it might disappear if he blinks too hard. Then he types back, trembling, teeth clenched, breath caught somewhere in his throat.

Hoon: hi baby. god i missed you.

And for the first time in weeks, he feels like maybe he's not drowning anymore. His fingers are flying to type the second your reply comes in.

You: i missed you too. and jake. how's he been?

Sunghoon stares at the screen, his chest tight. His thumb hovers, unsure how to answer. He could lie, he could protect Jake a little. But he knows you deserve more than that.

Hoon: not good. we're not good without you.

He hesitates a little before adding typing more,

Hoon: i've been missing you so bad, baby. did you listen to the messages?

There's a pause. He watches the three dots blink in and out for what feels like hours. Then your response lights up the screen:

You: yes. i listened to all of them. every single one.

And then another message comes in

You: if you still want me, i think i'm ready to come home.

His breath catches so hard it almost hurts. He doesn't even realize he's already typing, his hands trembling, a sound of pure relief breaking in his chest like a dam cracked wide open.

Hoon: of course baby girl. yes. yes please. come home. please. what time should i come get you from the station? i'll be there early. i'll wait. just tell me.

He stares at your name on the screen, eyes glassy, smiling like he hasn't in weeks. For the first time in what feels like forever, the ache in his chest finally eases cause you’re coming home.

The train hisses behind you as it pulls away, the last trace of your long, quiet ride home vanishing down the track. You stand there on the platform, suitcase at your side, arms wrapped tightly around yourself—not because it's cold, but because your heart is beating so hard, it needs something to hold onto. You see him before he sees you. Sunghoon steps out of his car and into the station, black hoodie pulled low, hands stuffed into his pockets. He looks around like he's searching for air. His eyes are sharp, darting across the crowd with a kind of frantic hope. You watch him scan the line of waiting people, his lips pressed into a tight line, until his gaze catches on you. And it looks like everything in him melts. His shoulders drop, face softening instantly, mouth parting slightly as he takes a single breath and then starts walking—fast. Not running, but fast, like he's afraid you'll disappear if he takes too long. You don't move. You just watch him close the distance, watch the way his eyes don't leave yours even for a second. And when he reaches you, he doesn't say anything right away. He just pulls you in.

His arms are around you in a heartbeat, strong and warm and all-consuming. Your feet barely stay on the ground. His hand is at the back of your head, fingers slipping into your hair like he's trying to relish the shape of you again. And then his lips are everywhere.

A kiss to your cheek. Another to your forehead. Then your jaw, your temple, your nose. Each one broken by a breathless whisper, "I missed you." "I missed you so much." "God, my baby—I missed you." You feel it in your throat, the way your eyes sting, your whole chest pressing into his like it's desperate to get even closer. You don't even realize you've started crying until he pulls back just enough to look at you and says softly, "Don't cry, baby. It’s okay." Sunghoon barely makes it out of the station parking lot before his hand finds yours again. It's like he can't help it—like the distance from your skin is unbearable now that he's got you back. His palm covers yours on your thigh, his thumb stroking gentle lines across your knuckles. And then, as the car slows at a red light, he lifts your hand to his lips and kisses it softly, like it's something sacred.

He doesn't let go after that. One hand on the wheel, one hand curled around yours, fingers laced tightly together like if he lets go, you'll change your mind. You glance at him from the passenger seat, your heart already softening all over again. He's smiling, really smiling. Not the tight, polite one he wore when he dropped you off at the station. Not the sad, faraway one you imagined he wore every time he texted you and heard nothing back. This one is warm open and alive. "You look prettier than I remember," he says suddenly, stealing a glance at you. You laugh softly, looking away, but his grip on your hand tightens gently. "I'm serious," he says. "You were gone so long I started thinking I made you up." You shake your head, lips parting to say something but then he speaks again, quieter this time. "Jake's gonna lose his mind when he sees you." That makes your stomach twist. You look down at your joined hands, and Sunghoon must feel the change in your silence because he turns toward you slightly, his voice soft. "He's been...not himself, without you. He's gonna be really happy. We both are."

You nod slowly, chewing on the inside of your cheek, and Sunghoon lifts your hand again, pressing it to his chest, right over his heart. It's beating fast, you can feel it. "We're gonna fix this," he whispers, eyes on the road. "All of it." And he squeezes your hand like a promise.

The underground parking lot is dim and quiet, the hum of Sunghoon's car engine the only real sound as he pulls into his usual spot. He shifts into park, and the headlights click off. You stay seated for a moment, just looking out at the elevator in the distance, heart suddenly thudding in your chest like it knows something your brain hasn't caught up to yet.

But then you feel it—Sunghoon's fingers slipping between yours again, warm and almost overwhelming but grounding. "You ready?" he asks softly, eyes gentle.

You nod. He leans over the center console to kiss you—slow and smiling, like it's the first kiss of a new chapter. Then he's getting out, grabbing your suitcase from the trunk and waiting patiently as you slide out of the car. It's quiet as you walk together toward the elevator, your suitcase wheels echoing softly across the concrete.

In the elevator, Sunghoon stands behind you, arms circling your waist from behind, resting his chin lightly on your shoulder. He rocks you side to side a little. "Jake's gonna freak out," he murmurs, lips brushing your skin. "He's been such a mess." You smile faintly. But your palms are sweating. The elevator dings and it almost makes you flinch. Sunghoon pulls you toward the apartment with that same soft excitement from earlier. He's already pulling out his key, fumbling a little because he's balancing your suitcase and trying to be quick about it. "You want to shower first or eat? I can order while you—"

He opens the door and everything changes. The hallway is dim, the apartment lit only by the yellow glow of the kitchen underlight. At first, it's quiet—almost deceptively so. But then you hear movement. The soft shuffle of hurried footsteps. And Jake's voice, low and rushed, "Wait—hold on, just grab your stuff."

Sunghoon's body stiffens in front of you. You try to peek past him, heart in your throat. Then you see him.

A shirtless Jake, hair sticking up like he's been in bed.

A red scratch blooming fresh across the side of his chest. And behind him, a girl, half-dressed, tangled in a button up shirt that clearly isn’t hers, carrying her shoes in one hand and her phone in the other, head ducked like she's trying not to be seen.

Your breath leaves your body like you've been hit. Not pushed—hit. The girl brushes past Sunghoon with a muttered "Sorry" and ducks around you too fast to even register your presence. Jake hasn't even seen you yet. His eyes are locked on Sunghoon. Wide. Caught. Guilt flashing so hard it nearly knocks the color from his face. Then he sees you. And it’s like his entire world collapses in on itself. He doesn't say your name. Doesn't dare breathe it. He just stares. Horrified.

Your whisper is small. Fragile. Like glass held up to a storm, "Oh my god."

His mouth opens. "No—no, no, no—fuck—you weren't supposed to—," he stammers, stepping forward, eyes begging, chest rising and falling fast. "I didn't—fuck, this isn't—it didn't mean anything—I swear to God, it didn't mean anything—"

You haven't moved. You can't seem to. You're standing there in your little travel outfit, bag rolling gently between you and Sunghoon, and all the warmth you gathered in the car, in the elevator, on Sunghoon's lip drains out of your body in one awful, slow wave. Jake is still stammering. Still frozen half-naked in the middle of the room like he hasn't decided whether to run or fall to his knees. And Sunghoon hasn't looked at you yet. He hasn't looked away from Jake. He's standing stone-still in the doorway, the suitcase handle loose in his hand. The hurt in his face is so quiet, so deep, it almost doesn't register at first. But then you see the way his jaw is locked, how his throat bobs when he swallows, the way his fingers tremble around the suitcase handle. He steps forward. Slowly. Eyes still locked on Jake like he's trying to force an explanation out of him with just his stare. "Tell me this isn't what it looks like," he says, voice sharp with warning, but soft underneath, cracked at the edges. "Tell me you didn't do this." Jake takes another half-step forward, still frantic. "I didn't know she was coming today—Sunghoon, fuck, I wasn't thinking, I didn't plan this, it just—she texted me, and I said yes without thinking, and—" He falters. Because Sunghoon finally turns to look at you.

And your face. Your face absolutely ruins him, it’s not because you’re crying or yelling—you’re not. You just look like someone blew a hole through your chest and walked away. Like something broke open in you that will never close again. And all Sunghoon can do is whisper your name.

"...Baby." You blink once, taking one small step back.

And he follows. "Wait—no—baby, please—" That's when he drops the suitcase handle and everything begins to unravel. Your shoes make almost no sound as you turn and walk out the door. It's not fast or dramatic. You just...leave. Like your body is on autopilot, like if you stay even one second longer, your chest might actually crack open. But you don't make it far. The hallway is dim, humming with ceiling light, and you're maybe ten steps from the apartment door before you hear him.

"Y/n—" Sunghoon's voice. A rough, broken thing. "Y/n, wait, please—" Then arms around you. Strong and warm and trembling. He turns you gently—carefully—and pulls you into his chest, both arms locking around your back like he's trying to hold the pieces of you together. You resist at first, trying to push him away.

But he doesn’t let you. "Shh—no, no—please—please don't do this—just let me—please let me hold you," he begs, voice cracking as he buries his face into your hair. "I didn't know. I didn't fucking know. I swear to God, baby, I would've told you. I would've never brought you back if I knew—" And that's when you break, right there in the hallway. You shatter—into him, onto him.

A sob rips out of you, ugly and raw, and your fingers claw at his hoodie as he pulls you tighter against his chest. Your legs shake, your shoulders heave, and you can barely even breathe through the sound of it. Sunghoon holds you like he's never going to let go again.

"I didn't know," he keeps whispering, over and over, like maybe if he says it enough, the truth will rearrange itself. "I didn't know. I didn't fucking know." You're still sobbing. Still trembling. He moves both of you toward the wall, pressing your body gently there, shielding you from the rest of the world with his own.

"I don't believe it," he murmurs fiercely, like he needs you to believe him. "I can’t believe he did this. He was broken without you—he couldn't even look at your stuff, he was crying all the fucking time—he loves you. He loves us. There's no way he'd—"

"But he did," you whisper, and your voice isn’t loud or sharp, it’s just final. Sunghoon pulls back to look at you. And you see it, finally—his tears. Silent and warm, streaking down his cheeks like he didn't even notice they were falling. You shake your head, barely able to get the words out.

"How could he do this…to us?" Your voice breaks on the last word. Sunghoon's lip wobbles a little as he cups your face, thumbing away the tears that just keep coming. "I don't know," he whispers. "I really don’t know." And for a moment, neither of you say anything.

There's just the sound of your breathing, labored and broken, and the way your tears soak through the front of his hoodie as he holds you. "I can't—I can’t go back in there," you whisper. "I know."

"I can't even look at him."

"I'll take you somewhere," he says immediately. "Anywhere. A hotel, my parents house—I'll get the car, right now, I swear—" You shake your head again. "Just...please don't leave me alone."

"I won't," he says, voice steady despite the tears. "Never again." And he doesn't let go. Not for a long, long time. He doesn't let go of your hand. Not as he leads you down the hallway, not as you both reach the elevator in silence, not even when the doors close and the dull hum of descent wraps around you. You're shaking. Still numb and in shock. But he keeps his fingers tangled with yours like it's the only thing saving him. When the elevator hits the underground level, he walks you carefully to the car, opens the door for you like he always does. But before getting in himself, he hesitates. "I'll be right back, okay?" he whispers, brushing your cheek with the back of his hand. "I'm just gonna grab your suitcase." You nod faintly. He runs. Actually runs back toward the elevator, disappears inside the building again. You wait. Five minutes. Maybe seven. And then the trunk thumps shut and Sunghoon's slipping into the driver's seat beside you, breathing a little hard but managing a quiet, "Got it."

He starts the engine. Drives. Doesn't ask where you want to go, he doesn't need to. The silence in the car is thick. You don't look at him. You don't look out the window either. Just stare at your lap like you can still see the image burned into your eyes—Jake's face, his bare chest, the girl's body slipping past you, the disbelief on Sunghoon's face. He keeps glancing at you.

Keeps checking to see if you're okay. Keeps seeing that you're not. It's a long drive, longer than you expect, and it isn't until he pulls into the circular driveway of a hotel, glass exterior glittering under city lights, that you even realize where he's brought you. He parks. Hops out quickly. Rounds the car to open your door for you again. Still doesn't let go of your hand. Inside, the lobby is quiet, marble floors echoing beneath your feet. The concierge says nothing when Sunghoon pulls out his wallet, only asks for your name and smiles gently at your silence. "Six nights," Sunghoon tells him firmly. "Maybe more. We'll see."

You're in another elevator again. He's holding your suitcase with your hand is still in his. Neither of you speak. The hotel room is warm with neutral tones, high thread count linens and soft lighting. But it all feels far away, like a set from a movie you're not in the mood to watch. Sunghoon wheels the suitcase inside. Sets it beside the closet, watching you sit on the edge of the bed, still not speaking or crying. Until you are, like it just hits you all at once. A sob punches its way out of your throat and you fold over, shoulders curled in, hands digging into your lap as the tears crash down. You don't even try to stop them. It's too much. Everything feels too much. And he's beside you in a second dropping to his knees in front of you, arms around your waist, pressing his forehead to your stomach like he’s going to fall apart too. "Princess," he whispers, voice already breaking. "Please—please don't cry. I can't—I can't handle it—"

But you do. And he lets you. He shushes you gently, murmuring soft little promises into the curve of your waist as his hands rub your back, as he slowly coaxes you sideways onto the bed. You curl into him instinctively, face hidden in his chest. He pulls you closer, wrapping himself around you. One hand cradling the back of your head, the other strokes slow, steady circles into your spine. "It’s okay," he whispers. "You're okay. I've got you. I'm not leaving." You don't know when you stop crying. You don't even remember falling asleep. But when you eventually do, you're warm. And Sunghoon's arms are still around you, his lips still brushing your hair, his chest rising and falling under your cheek like you're the only thing keeping his heart beating at all.

You wake to silence. A thick, weighted kind—the kind that makes you feel like the world has stopped turning while you slept. Your clothes are still the same from yesterday. Wrinkled, cold and you feel them stick to your skin when you shift slightly under the hotel blanket, cheeks stiff and tight with the dried remnants of your tears. Your head is buried in Sunghoon's chest.

His shirt is damp where you cried. His arms are still around you, the hand on your back still gently cupping the curve of your spine like he never loosened his grip all night. You stir and he doesn't move, doesn’t flinch.

But you can feel the tension in his body. The way he holds his breath. Like he's afraid that if he moves too quickly, the whole thing might shatter all over again.

His eyes are open, red-rimmed and tired. Fixed on the ceiling above, jaw clenched, lips pressed into a thin, unreadable line. You shift a little more, trying to sit up. He doesn't stop you, but his arm stays loosely wrapped around your waist. The room smells faintly of hotel soap and skin and sadness. You whisper, "Did you sleep at all?" He finally looks at you.

And that's when you see how broken he looks. Like someone carved a hollow right into his chest and filled it with silence. "No," he murmurs softly. “Couldn’t." You nod faintly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. You cling tighter. Like you know something's coming. And you’re right. You can feel it in the shift of his breathing. His throat bobs, and then he says, barely a whisper, "I need to talk to him." You blink up at him, brows drawing together. Your throat aches like you're about to cry again, but the tears haven't reached your eyes yet. "Oh."

"I just—" His voice is soft as he sits up, finally pulling away from you, though it's reluctant. "I need to make sense of this. What happened. Why he did it. How it even happened." You just look at him for a moment. Then you say, "I don't want to be alone." His expression crumples at that. He reaches for your hand again. Grips it tightly. "I won't be gone long," he promises, forehead pressing to yours. "Just an hour or two, baby. I'll come right back. I swear."

You bite your bottom lip, nodding slowly. He kisses your forehead, your temple, the side of your nose—soft, lingering kisses like little apologies for leaving. Then he pulls away again. And this time, you let him go. The door closes behind him with a dull, final-sounding click. And you're alone, wrapped in a hotel comforter, in the aftermath of something you're still trying to understand, while down the hall or across the city already Sunghoon walks into the fire. Into Jake, into whatever comes next.

The drive home is a blur for Sunghoon, he doesn't even remember closing the hotel door behind him. Doesn't remember the walk through the lobby or the way the valet stared at him like he recognized the storm cloud brewing behind his eyes. The world outside the windshield flies past in streaks of color, but he isn't really seeing it. He's trying to make sense of the situation at hand. Jake. Jake. He must've misunderstood. Maybe she was a friend. Maybe it was a mistake. But no. There was nothing accidental about what they saw.

The girl was buttoning her shirt—Jake’s shirt, as she walked out of his bedroom. Jake was shirtless, wide-eyed and guilty. It wasn't a maybe. It wasn't a blur. It was a fucking betrayal. And Sunghoon can't stop thinking about the way you crumbled in his arms—how you cried into his chest like the air had been stolen from your lungs. He parks the car in a daze and makes his way upstairs. Every footstep down the hallway echoes louder than the last. The door isn't locked, as he just walks in to find Jake on the couch. Head bowed. Shoulders slumped with his phone in his hand, talking softly into the speaker.

Sunghoon hears it just before it stops recording. "...I know I fucked up, but I swear I love you. I love you. Please just—just come back." Jake's thumb hovers over the send button. But he doesn't press it. He knows he can't. Not now. Not after what he's done. He looks up when he hears Sunghoon close the door. But he doesn't say anything, he doesn't try to explain. He just looks... ruined. Like a child caught red-handed, trembling and ashamed, waiting to be punished. Sunghoon stares at him for a long moment, "You couldn't even wait?" His voice is ice. Jake flinches a little, his eyes dropping again. He doesn't try to fight it. "I thought she wasn't coming back," Jake says quietly. "I thought—" Sunghoon cuts him off before he can finish. "So what? You thought she wasn't coming back, so you stuck your dick in the next girl you saw? That's your excuse?"

"I felt abandoned—" Sunghoon slams his hand down on the back of the armchair. "I was abandoned too!" he yells. "She left me too! Jake. You think it didn't break me? You think I didn't want to give up every night while texting her because I didn't know if she'd ever respond? You think I didn't miss her so fucking bad I couldn't sleep?"

Jake's chest rises and falls rapidly. "I know—"

"No, you don't," Sunghoon spits. "You don't fucking know, because instead of hurting and staying loyal, you went and fucked someone else. You cheated. On us."

Jake's lower lip trembles. His fingers are digging into his knees like he's trying to keep himself from collapsing completely. "It didn't mean anything," he whispers. "I was out of my mind. I—I regretted it the second it happened."

"Yeah?" Sunghoon snaps. "Too bad regret doesn't make her unsee it. Doesn't undo what you did." Jake wipes at his eyes, sniffling hard. "You think I don't hate myself for it? You think I'm not dying inside?"

"You don't get to die inside," Sunghoon growls. "She gets to die inside. We do. You made that choice. We live with the fucking aftermath." Jake tries to say something, tries to open his mouth, but no words come out. He looks like he's seconds from collapsing. From crumbling into nothing. But Sunghoon doesn't care. Not right now. Because he remembers the way you sobbed against his chest. The way your voice cracked when you whispered "how could he do this to us?" And no amount of guilt can take that back. Jake doesn't move, he sits there like a kicked dog, face blotchy, hands shaking, eyes rimmed red with guilt. He opens his mouth to speak, but Sunghoon cuts in before he can even try. "No," Sunghoon says sharply, chest heaving. "You don't get to do this, Jake."

His voice isn't loud, but it's dangerous now. Cold and trembling and laced with too much grief to contain. "I texted her every single day," he says through gritted teeth. "I left her voice notes every morning and every night, telling her that I missed her, that we loved her, that it was safe to come home. I promised her, Jake. I begged her to believe that everything would be okay."

Jake stares at him, lips parted. Breathing hard, like he’s on the edge of shattering. "I brought her back," Sunghoon continues, voice cracking. "I kissed her hand in the car and told her how happy you'd be to see her. I told her we'd protect her better this time, that she wasn't alone anymore. And the second I opened that door, you were standing there—shirtless, with some girl rushing out of your room." He pauses, nostrils flaring, trying to collect himself. "You don't know how hard I had to stop myself," Sunghoon whispers, eyes sharp and glassy. "From dragging you out into the hallway and beating the fucking life out of you right then and there."

Jake lets out a strangled sob. He brings both hands up to his face like he's trying to block the words out, but they keep coming—because Sunghoon can't stop. "She cried herself to sleep," he says, quieter now, more broken. "On a fucking hotel bed. In the clothes she travelled all the way back to us in. I had to hold to her while she did, and keep telling her it would be okay even though I knew it wouldn't."

Jake lets out a breath like it hurts to exhale. "I can fix it," he chokes. "I swear—I can fix it. Please, Hoon. Things can still go back to normal—" Sunghoon laughs, but it’s not funny. It's bitter and dry and devastating. "Can they?" he spits, stepping closer. "Can they really?"

Jake doesn't answer. He just sits there—pathetic, ashamed and drenched in regret. And that look of utter helplessness, of you tell me what to do and I'll do it, like he's not the one who burned it all to the ground, that’s what finally breaks Sunghoon completely. His voice drops. Barely a whisper. "If she doesn't come back to us—" he swallows hard, tears stinging at his eyes. "If she never forgives us..." Sunghoon's jaw clenches. "I will never forgive you," he says, eyes glassy. "Do you hear me?" Jake doesn't respond but his shoulders shake with the force of his sobs. "Not ever," Sunghoon breathes. "Jaeyun." Jake flinches at his name like it's some curse. And Sunghoon stares at him one last time, broken, furious and devastated before turning and walking away.

The hotel room is dim—just the golden lamp on the nightstand casting a soft glow over the bed. Sunghoon is lying next to you now, one arm folded behind his head, the other resting limp beside yours. He hasn't said much since he got back, just quiet sighs now and then, like he's still trying to sort through everything swirling in his chest. It's nighttime now and you reach out without a word, slipping your fingers into his, your thumb brushing over his knuckles gently. It's not a grand gesture, but his breath hitches when you do it.

He squeezes your hand—tentative, "I missed this," he says softly, like a confession. "Just being able to touch you." You swallow hard, your voice a whisper. "Me too." There's a long silence after that. A kind of peace that's not perfect, but quieter than it's been in days.

Then Sunghoon speaks, voice low and tired. "Did you...make any new friends while you were home?"

You actually let out a soft laugh, dry and almost shy. "No. I didn't really leave the house. I barely left my room. I think my parents were getting worried I was turning into a ghost." Sunghoon's smile is faint but real. "They're probably just happy to have you close."

You nod, your voice quieter now. "They were. I missed them so much." He glances over at you. His thumb rubs along the side of your hand again, slower this time. You hesitate before speaking again, "Jungwon texted me." You feel his body go still. "When?" he asks, trying to keep his voice neutral. "Couple days after I got home," you murmur. "He just...asked if I was okay. Said Jake told him I left."

Sunghoon sighs heavily, but not in surprise, more of acceptance. He stares up at the ceiling for a moment before turning his head to you. "You don't have to be friends with Jungwon if you don't want to," he says quietly, with a sort of tired conviction. "Not after everything. I know he's Jake's friend, but you don't owe him anything." You nod. "I know." He squeezes your hand again, tighter this time. Like he's silently vowing to protect you from all of it—Jake's betrayal, Yunjin's cruelty, even the pieces of yourself still bruised from everything.

You lie there in the quiet, his hand still held in yours, warm and grounding. The room feels suspended in time—just the two of you tucked into this little pocket of the world where nothing hurts quite as loudly, where the betrayal and the heartbreak and the ache haven't disappeared, but at least, for now, they're muffled. You shift your head on the pillow, angling your gaze toward him. His jaw is tight, his lashes casting soft shadows on his cheeks as he blinks slowly at the ceiling. You speak gently. "What about you?" His eyes flick to yours. "What did you get up to? Other than all the things you told me...the café, your parents..." you trail off. He hesitates, his mouth parting just slightly before closing again. Then, he exhales slowly through his nose, voice hushed and vulnerable. "I didn't really...get up to much." Your fingers tighten slightly around his.

"I tried, at first," he says, "to keep moving. To keep pretending like I was okay." He lets out a humorless laugh. "But my world kind of...slowed. When you were gone." Your heart tugs painfully in your chest. "I'd wake up and just—lie there. For hours sometimes." He swallows. "Didn't even want to shower. Or eat. I'd sit in that café down the block like I told you, every afternoon. Just staring out the window."

"Waiting for me to text," you whisper. He nods once, eyes still fixed on the ceiling like looking at you might break him. "Yeah." There's something so quietly devastating about the way he says it. Like existing without you took everything out of him, left him hollow in a way no one else could fill. You lean a little closer, pressing your forehead to his arm. "I missed you every second." His eyes finally meet yours. They're glossy again, but he blinks the tears back, determined not to cry this time. "Don't leave again," he whispers. "Please."

"I really don't want to," you say softly. "But how do we even get past this? We're in a hotel room right now, Hoon." He nods like he knows, stroking his thumb over the back of your hand. The silence between you is soft now—no longer heavy with pain but full of something else, something tentative and warm, like a newly bandaged wound. Then, out of nowhere, he murmurs, "You lost weight." You pout, looking up at him "Huh?"

He frowns a little. "Your face...and your arms. You feel smaller when I hold you." You roll your eyes. "Oh wow, thanks."

"No," he says, turning toward you, serious. "It's not a compliment, baby. I don't like it. You're gonna eat more." You snort. "Well, I wasn't exactly in the mood for takeout and ice cream while crying into my pillow." He shakes his head, already sitting up and stretching a little. "No, no, that won't work. I'm putting you on a schedule. Three meals a day. Snacks. Maybe I'll cook. You want pasta? I'm ordering pasta right now." You watch as he starts patting down his pockets for his phone, already mumbling about how much he's going to make you eat. "Something creamy. High calorie. Carbs. Dessert too—maybe cake or like a pie? Yeah, we'll start slow." You laugh quietly, heart swelling a little at his chaotic determination. But then there's a knock at the door and it interrupts the moment, making you both halt. The sound is polite but firm. One knock. Two. Then silence. You glance at each other. "You expecting someone?" he asks, brow furrowed.

You shake your head. "No. You? Could be room service?" Sunghoon slowly rises to his feet. He hesitates, then quietly pads toward the door, shoulders tensing as he approaches. The hotel room is quiet, and your own breath seems too loud in your ears. He looks back at you once, a cautious warning in his eyes, then reaches for the handle and opens the door. And there Jake is. Standing in the hallway, hands in the pockets of his jeans, face pale, jaw tight, eyes rimmed red—but dry, for now. You sit up slowly. Jake doesn't even look at Sunghoon at first. His eyes seem to be trained on you as if he didn't dare believe you were really behind that door until now. Sunghoon's body shifts in front of the threshold like a quiet barrier, unmoving. Jake finally blinks, mouth twitching like he wants to speak but doesn't know where to start. "I'm not here to fight," he says softly. "I just... I just need to talk to her."

Sunghoon's hand grips the edge of the door just a little tighter.

"How did you even know she was here?" he asks, voice low, cautious. Jake doesn't flinch, or even blink. "I've always had both your locations," he says, eyes still locked on you. "Since the beginning. I just...never stopped checking." Sunghoon's jaw tightens. He doesn't say anything for a moment. You can tell he wants to slam the door shut—protect you, protect whatever little peace you've managed to find here. But after a long beat of tense silence, he sighs. And steps aside, letting Jake walk in like a ghost. Like someone quietly being lowered into a grave. His shoes barely make a sound on the marble floor. His hands are still shoved deep into his pockets like he's trying to keep himself from shaking. And still, his eyes never leave yours. He stops a few feet in front of the bed, like he knows better than to come closer.

"I won't take long," he says, voice thin, tired. "You don't have to say anything. You just have to listen."

Your throat feels tight. You don't trust your voice even if you wanted to say something. "I'm sorry." Jake's voice cracks on the second word. "I'm sorry for doing this to you. For hurting you. For hurting Sunghoon. I don't have anything to defend myself with. There's no excuse. I was scared. I was selfish. And I was fucking stupid." "There isn't a version of this story where I'm the victim, I know that." His hands come out of his pockets now, trembling at his sides.

"If there's even the smallest chance, a one in a million chance that you two can be happy without me, then I won't get in the way. I'll let it happen. I'll walk away. You should take this chance. You should be with Sunghoon." Sunghoon shifts behind Jake, still by the door, but watching, listening. Jaw locked. You can feel the weight of his silence too. Jake's eyes fill with tears, but none fall. He blinks fast and swallows hard. "He said..." He continues glancing back toward Sunghoon for just a moment, like it hurts to even repeat it. "He said he'd never forgive me if you didn't come back to us. So please..." He looks at you again, eyes wet and raw. "Forgive him. Just him. Even if you can't look at me again, even if I'm the last person you ever want to see, please don't shut him out because of what I did."

You feel your chest splinter under the weight of his words.

He takes a single step back. "I'll disappear from both your lives forever if that's what it takes. But don't make him pay for my mistake." Jake's voice is quieter now. Smaller. Almost as if each word is chipped off a block of pain lodged deep in his throat. "You should come back to the apartment," he says, not meeting your eyes this time. He stares at the floor like if he looks at you too long, he might break apart right there in front of you. "I'll move out. I've already been looking at places—just shitty little studio listings bookmarked in a folder like that's gonna fix anything but...I don't care. I'll go."

He swallows hard. The muscles in his throat twitch as he forces the next words out. "Just come back. Be with Sunghoon. You two can still have something beautiful. Real. I mean..." he lets out a bitter, breathy laugh and finally glances back at Sunghoon, "You always deserved better than me anyway. He is better. You love him and he really does love you." You press your palm to your mouth like it'll stop the ache from leaking out. Jake sees it, sees the tremble in your fingers, and rushes to finish before he breaks apart completely. "No one will look at you weird. No one will whisper anymore. It'll be normal. Easy. Just the two of you. You can have a happy relationship without people talking or judging or wondering how it all happened."

There's silence. Heavy and full. Jake shakes his head once, tears threatening again, and wipes at his face like he's disgusted with himself for crying at all. "Please..." His voice cracks. "Just don't throw it all away because of me." And then, quietly, so broken you almost don't hear it. "I already lost you. I won't survive knowing I cost him you too."

There's a long, soul-crushing pause. Jake stands there, waiting, breath caught like a thread in his throat. The silence screams in his ears—no crying, no yelling, no footsteps chasing after him. Just silence. So he takes it for what it is—understanding, maybe not forgiveness, but acceptance. Resignation. And it's enough for him to turn. He starts to walk away, but your voice, quiet and trembling, slices right through him. "But..."

Jake freezes. You take a shaky breath, eyes brimming.

"I don't want to be without you, Jake." He turns slowly, stunned. His face twists in confusion at first, like he can't believe what he heard—but then he sees you stepping toward him, the tears sliding freely down your cheeks, and he breaks. The tears he's been holding back finally fall, trailing hot and fast down his cheeks. His lips part like he wants to say something, but you're already speaking again. "I don't want to be with just Sunghoon." Your voice is louder now, clearly and it cracks, but not from doubt—from honesty. "I love both of you." Jake's mouth opens just slightly, like the words hit him so hard he forgot how to breathe. "I'm so mad at you," you whisper through the sobs you've been holding in. "You really hurt me, Jake. You hurt Sunghoon too. You almost ruined everything."

He nods like he's ready to take the hit, like he knows he deserves it. But you're still walking closer. "But I still love you," you say, tears choking every syllable. "God, I love you so much. And the thought of my life without either of you—that's what hurts the most." He takes a step forward, eyes glassy, lips trembling, hands half-raised like he's scared to reach for you, scared he'll shatter this moment. "And if—if you're willing to work through it with us," your voice trembles again, "if you're willing to fight—really fight for me and for Sunghoon..." You reach him. Your hand brushes his chest. "Then we can start from somewhere. At least."

His face crumples. And without another word, he pulls you into his arms like his whole life depends on it—because it does. You fall into his arms without thinking, the distance between you evaporating the second your body presses against his. His breath catches, chest rising sharply beneath your touch, and for a moment he just stands there, frozen, as though your embrace is the last thing he ever expected—but the only thing he's ever wanted.

He wraps his arms around you with a desperation that nearly steals your balance. One hand grips the small of your back, the other trembles against your shoulder, holding you to him as though the weight of your grief might pull you both under. His face buries in the crook of your neck, breath uneven, and you feel it—the warmth of a tear against your skin, quickly followed by another. "I'm sorry," he whispers, the words cracked and hoarse, spoken into your collarbone like a confession into church pews. "I'm so fucking sorry."

You pull back just enough to see him. His face is flushed and tear-stained, eyes glassy, wide with disbelief. You cradle his jaw gently, your fingertips brushing over the ridges of his cheekbones, thumb wiping away the tears he hasn't stopped shedding since you walked into his arms. He leans into your palm as though it steadies him. "Jake," you murmur, voice barely formed.

His gaze locks on yours, heavy with every unsaid word, every sleepless night, every regret that's burned through him since the day you walked away. Your foreheads touch. Then your noses. And when your lips meet, it's a slow unfolding—painful in its tenderness, soaked with everything you've both endured. He doesn't rush. He doesn't pull. He just kisses you—soft and reverent—his lips moving with the ache of someone who still can't believe he's allowed to. The kiss tastes of salt and apologies. Of longing that never stopped growing. Of love that never left, even after everything. But it deepens before you can even think. It's not so soft anymore. It's heat and ache and months of silence collapsing into motion. Jake's hands roam, no longer trembling but gripping—your jaw first, then sliding down to your neck, the pads of his thumbs brushing your skin. He kisses you again, and again, and again, mouth moving with bruising need, barely giving you room to breathe.

His fingers slip beneath your jaw, tilting your head just enough to fit his lips better against yours. Your hands fist into the fabric of his shirt, clutching him tightly. His touch grows more frantic, less careful. One hand cups the back of your head, holding you still, while the other traces down to your waist, gripping there like the thought of distance is unbearable. There's an audible exhale when he presses closer, chests flush, and he pulls away only for a second—just enough to whisper, "I missed you so fucking much," voice rough, breaking apart in the center. Then he's kissing you again, and this time you feel it down to your knees. He kisses you like he's starving.

Like he spent every night since you left trying to remember how your mouth felt against his. He kisses you like the world ended and this is the only piece of it left that he still wants. And you let him. Because you missed him, too. Because despite the pain, despite the betrayal, there's something magnetic and familiar in the shape of him pressed to you, in the way his breath stutters every time you touch him back. You moan into his mouth when he sucks at your bottom lip, hands climbing his chest, slipping into his hair. He groans softly at the feeling, hips barely shifting forward before he stops himself, foreheads pressed tight. "I shouldn't—" he starts, breathless. But your fingers tug at his shirt. "I want you to."

You don't hear Sunghoon approach at first. You only feel the tremble in Jake's breath as it fans across your cheek, his lips hovering over yours. Then Sunghoon speaks softly behind him, voice tight with concern. "Are you sure you want this?" Jake freezes. His head dips, forearms braced against either side of you, almost holding himself up. He doesn't say anything, doesn't look back—he's too afraid the answer will break him.

Sunghoon continues, stepping forward until he's close enough that you can feel his presence wrap around both of you. "We can wait. For as long as you need. This was never about the sex. You know that, right?"

You turn your head, catching Sunghoon's gaze from over Jake's shoulder. His eyes search yours—not for permission, but for peace. And there's nothing but reverence in them.

You give him a smile. Not a trembling one, not one born of pressure or uncertainty. It's steady and soft. The kind that says I know what I want. Then your fingers drift to the hem of Jake's shirt. You tug gently.

Jake glances down, stunned, until you meet his eyes again and whisper, "I want it." Your fingers trail up his bare skin as you lift the shirt off him, your gaze flicking between his and Sunghoon's. "I missed your hands. Both of you." Jake lets out a broken sound, something between a sigh and a groan, like the weight of your forgiveness is too heavy to hold and too sacred to drop.

Sunghoon's chest rises, then falls with a shaky breath.

Jake's forehead presses to yours again, eyes squeezed shut. There's no more rushing, only three people breathing each other in like air after drowning for so long.

Jake's breath hitches the moment he feels Sunghoon's lips against his neck. It's gentle at first —a brush of mouth over skin, nothing more. But Jake still jolts, gasping softly, muscles tense under your palms. You're still pressed against his chest, your hands dragging slowly over the ridges of his abs, the curve of his waist, but his eyes flutter shut only when Sunghoon speaks.

"I should hate you," Sunghoon murmurs into his skin, voice raw and low, every syllable burned into the space between Jake's ribs. "You really fucking hurt us."

Jake's knees nearly give. You watch it happen, how his body caves just a little between your hands, how his throat bobs with a swallow, guilt rising like bile. His mouth parts, ready to apologize again, but Sunghoon doesn't let him speak. "But tonight," Sunghoon says, breath hot and firm on Jake's neck, his tone sharpening to something unshakable, unmovable, "you're going to do whatever she says." It's really not a request. Jake exhales a trembling sound, so affected by the command it comes out closer to a whimper than a breath. His hand instinctively finds your hip, squeezing like he needs to hold onto something real. His other arm tries to reach back, grasping at Sunghoon's thigh, but he can't find purchase. Can't find anything at all.

He's unraveling, your hands don't stop moving. They coast up his chest, over his heart, one curling around the back of his neck while the other trails lower, teasing the edge of his waistband. Forgiveness tastes strange when it's this tender. When it's handed to you wrapped in heat and hunger, in soft lips and firmer words. Sunghoon's mouth is still pressed to Jake's throat, kissing softly now, possessively. His palm slides down Jake's spine, slow and steady. He’s caught between your warmth in front of him and Sunghoon's control behind, blinking up at the ceiling like he's not sure this is real. He feels dizzy with it. Drunk off the way you touch him, how soft your lips are when you kiss the corner of his mouth, how your forgiveness feels like salvation. He lets out a broken, shaking sound and doesn't even realize he's nodding. "Yes," he whispers, barely audible. "Anything."

"Anything?" you echo, tilting your head with a small, breathy laugh, soft but taunting, sweet but sharp. Jake swallows hard, noticing how your voice has teeth now.

You brush your fingers across his chest, nails grazing where his heart is hammering beneath skin. He's trembling under your touch, still catching his breath from Sunghoon's mouth on his neck, but you keep your eyes on his, watching every flicker of emotion that passes through him—the regret, the longing, the want.

"Anything," he repeats, voice hoarse, and it makes you smile, even though it doesn't quite reach your eyes. "What if I told you..." You lean closer, lips brushing his ear, voice a whisper now. "That I didn't want you to touch me at all?" You never thought it was possible to watch someone break in real time, to watch the weight of that sentence crush him from the inside. His shoulders sag, chest tight and heaving, mouth parting in a stunned silence. He wants to speak, to beg, to say something that might undo the sentence, but nothing comes out. And then Sunghoon sinks his teeth into the side of Jake's neck—hard, causing him to help. “Ah!”

It's not pain though, not really. It's submission in its purest form. The sudden rush of breath he takes in is sharp and desperate. Sunghoon pulls back slowly, his lips stained red from the pressure, a blooming bruise already forming beneath the skin. You coo, cupping Jake's face between your palms, stroking your thumbs along his jaw. "Oh, poor baby," you murmur, soft and almost mocking. "That hurt?" You take a step back, fingers still curled around his chin, guiding him until he stumbles forward, pliant and stunned. "Get on the bed," you say simply. Jake obeys. It's not graceful. He trips a little on the edge of the mattress, palms catching himself as he falls onto it. His knees follow, sinking into the sheets, wide-eyed and breathless and completely undone. The mark on his neck already deepening in color.

Sunghoon steps behind you, his hands warm at your waist, watching with a quiet, unreadable intensity as Jake looks up from the bed, mouth parted, eyes shining, completely at your mercy. Then you reach for Jake's waistband, slow and deliberate. "If I say you don't get to touch me...you won't. Understood?"

Jake nods, instantly. But it isn't enough, especially not for Sunghoon, "Use your words," he murmurs from behind you. Jake breathes out, broken and obedient.

"Yes. I understand." You turn away from Jake, slowly, deliberately, your body still humming from the control you'd just exerted over him. You tilt your head up to face Sunghoon, lips parted, voice soft and honey-sweet.

"Wanna ride you, Hoonie," you murmur, eyes full of something heady and bright. Sunghoon's lips twitch into a smile that barely hides the hunger behind it. His hands are already on your waist, sliding under your shirt, touch reverent and greedy all at once. "Yeah?" he breathes, eyes darkening as he leans in, mouth brushing against yours. "Anything you want, pretty girl."

His kisses are deep and languid, like he wants to make you feel everything at once—his hands moving with purpose, stripping you bare with a kind of ease that only comes from knowing you. He peels the shirt off your shoulders, your bra next, then bends to mouth at your collarbones. You giggle when he lifts you clean off the floor with a low grunt, effortlessly strong, still kissing you like he can't get enough. He spins you gently in his arms, your laughter catching in your throat as he lays down beside Jake, pulling you into his lap so your legs straddle his hips. The shift in the room is immediate—charged with heat. Jake's eyes are glued to you, still kneeling on the bed, chest rising and falling with sharp, uneven breaths. His hands are clenched into fists on his thighs. He doesn't speak—but the look in his eyes, the desperation and hunger, says everything.

You lock eyes with him. And while holding his gaze, you reach down between your bodies, hook your fingers into the waistband of Sunghoon's pants, and tug them down just enough that his cock springs free—hot and hard, flushed a deep red. Your breath catches.

You shift your panties to the side, slowly, letting Jake watch everything—your fingers slipping under the fabric, revealing your wetness, your want. His jaw tightens as his gaze flickers down, then back to your face. You line Sunghoon up, the head of him brushing against you. Still holding Jake's stare, you whisper, "Watch me."

Then you sink down. Sunghoon groans, head falling back against the pillows, hands tightening around your waist—but your eyes don't leave Jake's, not for a second. He looks ruined already, lips parted, chest heaving, pupils blown wide as you start to move slowly, rolling your hips in small circles, your hands planted on Sunghoon's chest for balance. His eyes are locked on your face, mouth parted in awe, the way your lashes flutter when he hits the deepest part of you already making him groan. "Fuck, Yunnie," you breathe, barely able to get the words out through the sheer fullness, "Hoonie’s so big—it's too much, he's stretching me out—"

Sunghoon lets out a choked laugh, hands sliding up your back, keeping you grounded as you bounce slow and sweet. "You can take it, pretty girl," he says, breathless, "you always take it so good." Then he turns his head, eyes finding Jake across the bed—Jake, who looks completely undone, lips bitten raw, arms tense in his lap as he watches you fuck Sunghoon right in front of him. "You remember, don't you?" Sunghoon says, voice low and dark, words dragging like smoke. "How fucking tight she is?"

Jake swallows hard, nodding cause he does remember, he knows. Sunghoon's hand moves to your ass, spreading you a little wider on his lap as he grinds up into you. "She's still that tight," he murmurs. "Still squeezin' around me like she doesn't know what to do with it." You whimper, head falling forward, your rhythm stuttering for a second from the delicious drag of him inside you. You look over at Jake, flushed and panting and visibly hard under his jeans. You see the way his fingers dig into the sheets now, holding himself back. "You remember, don't you, Jake?" you whisper, your voice laced with something wicked and wet and wanting. "You remember how good I feel?" He nods again—once, sharp, desperate.

You moan when Sunghoon hits the right spot again, and you can't help it, you start to ride him harder, bouncing now, your hands gripping his shoulders, head tilted back with every gasp. “Oh shit! Sunghoon!”

Jake can't tear his eyes away. "Please," he says, voice hoarse, finally cracking. "Please let me touch you."

Sunghoon growls under you, but it's not anger—it's something else, something dark and territorial and charged with the thrill of control. "You gonna be good?" he asks, eyes narrowing. "You gonna do whatever she says?" Jake nods again, this time slower, breath catching when your eyes meet his and you smile, "Then crawl over here," "and rub my clit," you tell him, barely more than a breath between gasps, and Jake obeys instantly, crawling in close, his hands almost shaking as he reaches for you. His fingers find you, and the moment he starts to move in slow, practiced circles, your entire body trembles. The pleasure is sharp and sudden, slicing through your core and making you moan louder. You clutch Jake's shoulders to stay grounded, your forehead resting against his as you shudder. "God," you whisper, nails dragging down his arms. "Just like that."

Jake's eyes are wide, hungry and reverent all at once. "I missed you," he says, voice cracking. "Missed you so much." Then you kiss him, desperate and unrestrained. Your mouths crash together, teeth clashing, breath caught in your throat as his hands never stop rubbing. Your fingers go straight to his waistband, fumbling with the button of his jeans, tugging at the denim, hungry to feel him again, every part of him. He groans into your mouth when you finally free his cock, hips twitching, his hands pausing for only a second before he goes right back to rubbing soft circles against your clit, coaxing another shiver from your spine.

Under you, Sunghoon's hands are on your waist, fucking up into you, watching with heavy eyes as you and Jake melt together in front of him—two puzzle pieces trying desperately to fit again, despite everything. "Are you gonna let him in?" Sunghoon murmurs low beneath you. "Or do you want to keep teasing him first?" You glance down at him, then at Jake, lips swollen and pupils blown, still panting like a prayer's caught in his throat. But then Sunghoon starts unraveling beneath you. His hands are gripping your waist tighter now, fingers digging in deep. Each thrust up into you is deeper, rougher, his hips snapping with a need he's been swallowing down for weeks. "F–fuck, baby," he gasps, voice guttural. "I can't... you feel so good—I'm not gonna last—"

You're trembling, dizzy, your hands scrambling to hold on to Jake's shoulders for balance, for anything, and he's still touching you, still rubbing soft, perfect circles between your thighs, watching you with wide eyes that burn with something deeper than lust. Worship. Longing. Love. "I—I can't," you whimper, your voice barely recognizable, caught somewhere between a sob and a plea. "It's—Hoonie, it's too much—"

"I've got you," he breathes. "You can take it. You're so good for me, baby." And when you cry out, breath catching sharp and sudden in your throat, both of them hear it—hear the way your voice shatters as you cum. You barely manage to warn them, half-choking out a "I'm gonna—Hoonie, I'm—" before your body locks up. Everything crashes. Your orgasm rips through you in waves—sharp, overwhelming, dizzying. Jake holds your hands tighter, whispering, "That's it, baby, so good," while Sunghoon helps guide your hips, slowing your movements just enough to keep you from falling apart completely, easing you through the tremors. You don't even know what's happening at first. One second you're clinging to Jake's shoulders, trying to catch your breath, trying to come down from the orgasm that shattered your whole body, and the next your thighs are shaking all over again. Sunghoon is still moving beneath you, slower now, grinding up into the heat of your overstimulated cunt like he can't stop, won't stop—not until he's buried so deep inside you he disappears.

"Oh my god—" you gasp, body jolting forward. You feel it before you even realize it's happening. A gush, a rush, a sudden burst of pressure that leaves your thighs soaked and trembling and your breath punched clean from your lungs. "Holy shit," Sunghoon mumbles beneath you, stunned, voice half-wrecked with awe. His grip loosens for just a second, and then he's dragging you back down hard onto him, hips snapping up, chasing his own high now, greedy for it. Jake stares like he's seen a miracle. His hand is still between your legs, slick and shaking, frozen in place until Sunghoon growls low in his throat and knocks it away. "She's mine right now," Sunghoon mutters, almost possessive, his eyes half-lidded and dark with something primal. He pulls you back against his chest and buries his face in your neck. "Just for a second—just let me—"

And he thrusts once more, hard and deep, moaning against your skin as he finally loses control, cumming deep inside you. You're both a mess—your body shaking, hips twitching from the overstimulation, and Sunghoon gasping through his orgasm, arms wrapped around your middle, holding you to him so tight you can feel the tremor in his spine. Jake's hands move to your back, rubbing you gently as he presses a kiss to your spine, voice rough as he whispers, "You okay?"

You nod, dazed, shaky and a little broken up. Trying to catch your breath when Jake leans in again, kissing your shoulder, your back, trailing soft apologies into your skin. His eyes are wide and desperate when they meet yours, like he's still afraid this will be ripped away from him because he doesn't deserve to be here.

Sunghoon catches that look too. And he smiles—slow and deliberate—before reaching over, curling his fingers around Jake's jaw. "You're not touching her again until she says so," Sunghoon murmurs, voice still thick and wrecked from how hard you just made him cum. "Matter of fact... you're not coming until we say so either." Jake's breath catches and his whole body tightens. You cup his flushed face between your hands, nodding slowly, your lips brushing his as you whisper, "We're gonna make you beg, baby."

And oh, does he beg. The night stretches out in sweat-slick sheets and bitten lips and whispered commands. Every time Jake gets close to cumming, one of you pulls away—hands vanishing, mouths retreating, leaving him cursing under his breath, pleading for more. You ride him just enough to ruin him, then slide off with a wicked little smile, watching the way he shudders. Sunghoon kisses him through the whimpers, soothing and cruel at once, murmuring, "Not yet. You don't get to cum yet. You don't get to cum until she says so."

Jake obeys. All night long he obeys. And when you finally let him cum, when you finally look down at him hours later and whisper "You can cum now, baby" he sobs with it and thank you, over and over again.

It's not perfect yet and it might never be. But it's good now, better now. There are still moments that hurt—old memories that sometimes sneak in without warning, a passing comment or a flicker in one of their eyes that reminds you how bad it once got. But it's not sharp anymore. The edges have dulled with time, with effort and love. You trust them again. And they trust you. Jake doesn't flinch when you pull away to gather your thoughts. Sunghoon doesn't shut down when he's overwhelmed. You kiss one, then the other, and neither of them cares who sees anymore. There are still stares, whispers, but you're truly past it. The world can look because you know what you have. And that's all that matters to all of you.

Right now, you're doubled over in a sun-drenched corner booth at a café you never thought to go to until Sunghoon took you there, it’s the same one he used to haunt when you were gone. Now it's your spot. Yours and Chaewon's. She's wiping tears from her eyes from laughing so hard, one hand holding her half-empty iced coffee, the other gesturing wildly as she wheezes, "No but actually—He said that? Like what does that even mean?" You're clinging to your stomach, giggling uncontrollably. "I don't know—I don't know why it's so funny—but it is!"

That's when a familiar voice hums warmly behind you.

"Hi baby." Sunghoon's fingers sweep through your hair as he kisses the top of your head, his palm settling on your shoulder with a light squeeze. You tilt your head back to up at him, already reaching for his hand.

"You ready to go? Jake’s outside." he says, then turns his gaze to Chaewon, eyebrows lifting curiously. "And who's this?" "Oh—!" You twist in your seat, eyes still a little crinkled with laughter. "This is Chaewon, from the seminar. Chaewon, this is my boyfriend Sunghoon."

Sunghoon gives her a small, polite smile. "Nice to finally meet you. I've heard nothing but chaotic things." Chaewon grins, wide and proud. "I plead the fifth." He chuckles, then glances down at you again with something that softens all the angles of his face. You know that look. He's happy. Happy you finally made that friend you were talking about, happy you're laughing again, happy you're here.

You suddenly hear Jake’s voice before you even see him approaching, "Baby," Jake calls out, spotting you across the café with a grin already tugging at his lips, "you still wanna go to the Canary Islands—?" He stops in his tracks as his eyes land on Chaewon. You can see the calculation happening behind his gaze. He blinks once, then points between you two. "Who's this?"

Before you can answer, Sunghoon wraps an arm around your shoulders from behind and offers coolly, "Chaewon. She's her friend." Jake nods slowly, glancing between you, Sunghoon, and the girl seated beside you. Then he says, deadpan, "Cool. Chaewon, do you wanna come to the Canary Islands with us?"

You and Chaewon both burst out laughing at the same time, hers more bewildered, yours fondly exasperated. "Jake—what?!" He just shrugs, smile stretching wider, unapologetically smug. "I already bought three tickets. What's one more?" Sunghoon sighs through his nose, pinching the bridge of it. "You're not supposed to just... collect people."

Jake throws a smile at Chaewon. "It's not collecting if she's fun."

"She is fun," you defend. "Also, you're insane." But Jake only smiles more softly now, like he's seeing something you haven't yet. "Yeah. But you're laughing again."

That shuts you up for a second. Because you are laughing, you’re whole in a way you haven't been in months. Sunghoon leans down, brushing your temple with a kiss. Jake slips into the booth across from you and steals a sip of your drink before wrinkling his nose. "You still drink this garbage?" Chaewon side-eyes you. "You're letting him bully your coffee order?" You shake your head with a grin and glance between the two boys—your boys. You know you'll still have days where things feel hard, moments when the past creeps up, nights where you'll have to talk it out again, cry it out again, try again. But you'll do it. All of you will.

Because this is what it looks like now. Jake pulls his phone out of his jacket pocket showing you the email confirmation. "The hotel has ocean views and a private plunge pool. I'm thinking we leave Wednesday, Well that’s when the flights are booked for anyway." Sunghoon rests his chin on your shoulder, murmuring, "You've always wanted to go." You smile at him and nod.

"Let's go to the Canary Islands."

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#enhypen fanfiction #enhypen smut #enha fanfic #enha smut #enhypen angst #enha angst #jake fic #jake x reader #jake smut #jake angst #jake sim #sunghoon smut #sunghoon angst #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon #sequel #enhypen x reader

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mafiadad5 · 22 hours ago

Text

Teach me to not love || L. HC (part 3)

𐙚 fuckboy!haechan x fem!reader (ft. best friend jaemin)

𐙚 Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 + bonus epilogue

𐙚 synopsis- Jaemin's out for revenge after Haechan slept with the girl he liked. You're just supposed to be a distraction, something pretty to keep Haechan's mind off of what Jaemin was doing. He's cute, addictive- you should stay away... you really should, but when he touches you like that how are you supposed to remember what's right?

𐙚 genre- college au, smut/ porn with plot (MDN/ 18+), angst, slight fluff, second chance.

𐙚 warnings- alcohol use, black out, mentions of throwing up, sexual activity under the influence, fingering, masturbation, dry humping, markings, arguing, heartbreak, betrayal.

𐙚 W/c- 15k

Now playing: Exit Music (For A Film) - Radiohead

a/n- here it is, the finale. I want to thank you all for the support and I hope you liked it— let me know what you thought. Luv y’all, mwah mwah 💋

tags- @dnylwoo @haeclips @millis-diary @bbhbungee @sooohey @captainchrisstan @chocojiji @imnotrosiee @meatballsub420

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Wednesday, a few days after he appeared.

Your mind was still spiraling— just a bit less now. You hadn't called him even though he told you to, it didn't feel right. Well, that and the fact that you were buried in projects, trying to keep yourself distracted, productive, anything but still.

You were sitting there, a little too idle now, having wrapped up your milestone for the day. 8:49 PM. You stared at the time for a moment, chewing at your bottom lip. A few more minutes passed like that. Fuck it. What could really go more wrong at this point?

You picked up your phone and clicked on his contact. It rang long, long enough for you to start regretting it. You were just about to hang up when his voice came through the speaker.

"Hello."

Your brows lifted, eyes widening slightly in surprise. "Oh— hello?" You said, the shock in your voice unmissable.

"Yo, wassup." He replied casually, his tone unreadable.

"Nothing, I'm just bored, y'know."

"Yeah, I feel you." A second passed. "Listen, sorry but I'm really really busy right now so I'll just hit you back later or something."

"Oh. Oh, okay." Your voice softened.

He hesitated for a second. "Oh, um— party tomorrow. You coming?" His words were quick, like he forced them out before changing his mind.

"I'll think about it. Kinda have a lot to do." You said honestly.

"Cool. Bye."

And just like that, he hung up. Alright then. It was the first time he'd picked up your call ever, so there was that at least. You didn't let yourself overthink it, just let it be.

The next night came quicker than expected. You finished everything you needed to do earlier than planned, you actually hadn't been this productive in a while. So, with little left to distract yourself, you went to the party.

You arrived, same scene, same crowd. Scanning for familiar faces, one in particular.

You found him quickly— but your smile dropped. There he was, same cocky grin, same glint in his eye, but this time he was standing with a girl too close... way too close. His arm lazily slung around her, leaning in, sharing sips from her drink.

Your stomach sank, breath turned shallow. Your body froze and burned all at once. Your thoughts scattered, unsure what to do, but before you could process anything your feet were already moving toward him.

"Um, hey." You said carefully.

He looked over, eyes changing when he saw you, but smile dropping.

"Can we talk privately for a second?"

He exhaled dramatically, annoyed, but nodded. He followed you down the nearby hallway, away from the noise and attention.

"What are you doing?" You asked, your voice low but firm, eyes fixed on his.

"Chilling. Why are you being extra?" He snapped back.

"Why am I being extra?" Your voice lifted with disbelief. "You know what you're doing, you literally invited me. If this is still about what happened with your brother I told you I was sorry."

He scoffed. "First of all, I never invited you. I asked if you were coming and you said maybe. I didn't fucking beg you to show up tonight."

"Oh, but I'm 'always invited' right? That's what you said." Your voice cracked.

"Okay, Y/n." He said flatly.

"Okay? That's it?" You asked, hurt surfacing.

He sighed again and looked away briefly before turning back. "You know, honestly Y/n..." His tone shifted— colder. "I'm fucking bored with you, okay? I'm tired. I want something different tonight. Someone who doesn't make a big deal out of me not answering their calls. Someone who doesn't take everything so seriously and emotionally."

He paused. "Someone who doesn't make me wear protection for casual, regular, simple sex."

You blinked, stunned as his words sank in.

"This is only about sex to you?" You asked quietly.

"Literally, yes. That's all it was ever supposed to be. We're not dating, we're not anything special. So just get over it."

His words stung like a slap. You stood frozen, chest tightening, breath catching as your mind scrambled to make sense of it.

"Get over it?" You questioned, voice shaky. "I can't believe you."

"Seriously, why are you surprised? You knew what you were getting into, you knew what this was— who I was. So yeah, get over it."

And just like that, he turned and walked away quickly, unapologetic, like none of it mattered.

You just stood there. The sting of his words burned beneath your skin. Your mind replayed it all— his kisses that felt too careful, the way he used to listen when you rambled like he cared. It didn't feel casual, it never did. You thought it meant something.

You should've left then. Should've gone out to your car and cried it out alone, but instead, you ended up in the kitchen, grabbing the nearest bottle, the biggest one. One shot became two, then three, then you chugging half the bottle while strangers cheered like it was a show. You couldn't even hear them, everything blurred.

You stumbled back down the hallway for a break, sliding against the wall until you hit the floor, bottle still in hand. You closed your eyes, maybe to stop the spinning, maybe to hold back tears, maybe both.

"Y/n?"

Your eyes fluttered open. You turned slowly to the voice.

"Jaemin? What the fuck?" You said, standing a little wobbly.

He stepped closer, a cautious steadiness in his eyes. "Can we talk?"

"You're fucked up." You replied.

"You're fucked up too. If we can still speak, we can talk." His voice was gentle, not defensive.

You looked at him for a long second, trying to focus through the fog before nodding. "Alright, talk."

He ran a hand through his hair, pausing before speaking. "Listen... I'm seriously sorry about everything I said to you."

"That all?" You mumbled.

"No." He said quickly. "I haven't been the best friend. I just... I wanted to keep you away from a guy like him. I know I wasn't always nice about it, but you didn't deserve that. You didn't deserve anything I said to you and I'm sorry. I love you, Y/n. I always have."

You smiled faintly. "It's cool."

He looked like he wanted to say more, but someone else's voice interrupted.

"There you are."

You both turned. It was the Mark guy from last time.

"Do you know where Haechan is bro?" He asked Jaemin.

Jaemin shook his head, lips in a tight line. "Naw."

Mark rolled his eyes slightly before pausing, turning to you. "What about you— do you know where he is?"

"Why would I know?" You questioned, laughing a bit.

His brows furrowed slightly, confusion twisting his face. "You're like— his girl."

You paused for a second the word echoing in your mind 'his girl'. He didn't act like it, all that he said tonight and his friends are calling you his girl? Right.

"Last time I seen him he was with a girl— he's probably fucking her." You said, the words coming out your mouth too easy, too bitter.

"Naw." Mark said, staring at the ceiling like he was thinking. "He wasn't with a girl when I saw him a few minutes ago. I don't know, I checked in his room, the backyard, everywhere— nothing. His car is still here though."

He isn't with a girl? Since when. Your mind started racing again, trying to think as logically as you could in the state you were at right now.

"I'm getting kind of worried." You said without thinking, eyes glossy.

"I'm sure he just took a car somewhere or something." Jaemin pipped in.

Mark nodded in agreement, scratching his head, cursing slightly under his breath.

"What do you need with him?" You asked, curiousity taking the best of you.

"He has my blunt." Mark said in a sigh.

Jaemin chuckled lightly, honestly, more of a scoff. "Man, if you don't get the fuck on." He said, pushing Marks shoulder slightly.

"Shit, my bad. Didn't know it was that serious. Let me know if you see Haechan." Mark said, walking down the hallway, scratching the back of his head.

You stared at him as he left, zoned out for a second too long before turning back. Jaemin's eyes were already on you— focused, something glinting in them.

"Why the fuck are you looking at me like that?" You asked, your words slurring slightly.

"Like what?" He replied, inching closer to you with casual ease that felt far too practiced.

"Like... that." You motioned vaguely, a tired, crooked smile tugging at your lips.

"I don't know." He said, smirking. "I guess I just missed you. Missed seeing your face, your eyes, your—" His gaze flicked down."...lips."

You just giggled lazily, your head falling back slightly as your eyelids drooped.

"You didn't miss me just a little bit?" He pressed, now standing directly in front of you, his expression filled with something light, teasing.

"What am I gonna do with you?" You murmured, shaking your head, half amused, half dazed.

"I've got a few suggestions." His voice dropped lower, smoother.

You opened your mouth to say something back, but then suddenly the room spun.

Your smile fell.

Everything hit at once, shutting your eyes, hand instinctively reaching for Jaemin to stay grounded.

"You okay?" He muttered, steadying you quickly. "Fuck— can you make it upstairs?"

You just nodded weakly as he wrapped your arm over his shoulder, raising you up. He guided you through the crowd, shielding you from the curious glances.

"Hang in there, I got you." He said, his breath a little rushed. He led you straight into the bathroom, flipping the toilet lid up and helping you kneel in front of it just in time.

"There you go, let it out." He said gently, one hand holding your hair, the other rubbing slow, comforting circles on your back as everything poured out of you.

You didn't say anything, just coughed, groaning softly, trying to breathe through the burn.

"I'll be right back, okay? Gonna grab you some water." He stood, hesitating for a moment, watching you slump against the wall before disappearing.

You sat there for a second, catching your breath. Once the spinning calm downed, you forced yourself up on shaky legs. You splashed cold water on your face with a washcloth, numbing your flushed skin. Your eyes found the bottle of mouthwash under the sink, and you took a quick swig, trying to rinse away the taste of shame and alcohol.

When Jaemin returned, he handed you a red cup of water and closed the door softly behind him.

"Thanks." You mumbled, taking a sip. The cold relief hit your throat like glass.

"You feeling any better?"

"Yeah." You nodded, slowly. "I just... I think I need to rest. I'll be okay after that."

"You drove here?" He asked.

"Yeah." You nodded.

"Then let me take you home. You can grab your car tomorrow."

"No, that's too much. I'm not leaving my car here." You said, waving a hand lazily. "I'll crash here a bit. I'll leave when I'm sober."

He stared at you like you just confessed a felony. "Y/n, that's a fucking terrible idea."

"Jaemin, seriously." You said firmly, cutting him off. "I'm not doing this with you tonight. I really don't have the energy."

He sighed, lips pressed into a tight line before nodding. "Alright. Just... text me when you get home. I wanna make sure you're alright."

"Noted." You gave him a soft, exhausted smile. "Thank you."

He lingered a second longer, like he wanted to say something else, but didn't. Then he left.

You pulled out your phone and shot Haechan a quick message— told him you were sick, asked if there was a room you could rest in, promised you'd be gone by morning... no reply.

You rolled your eyes, of course.

You made your way to his room anyway, tugging off your shoes and the uncomfortable pants digging into your waist. You sank into the bed, eyes shutting before your head even hit the pillow.

About an hour and a half later, your eyes snapped open.

Your chest rose quickly as you sat up, heart beating fast. You rubbed at your face, trying to blink the haze away. Everything still felt off— your body heavy, your mind foggy. You weren't even sure if it was just the alcohol anymore. You turned toward the nightstand, eyes catching on an unopened can sitting there, no label, no clue what it was. You picked it up, squinted at it, turning it in your hands.

The door creaked open.

"Was throwing up the first time not enough?"

Your head snapped up. Haechan.

You scoffed quietly, setting the can back on the nightstand without a word.

"Oh, you're ignoring me now?" He said as he stepped in, closing the door behind him and locking it.

You didn't look at him. "Your friends are looking for you." You said quietly, your voice flat. "You disappeared."

"They found me." He replied. "Was with my sister. The stupid fucker had my location."

He walked toward your side of the bed. "I got you some water." He said, placing a red solo cup down next to you.

Then, like nothing had happened, he sat at the edge of the bed and pulled his shirt over his head.

"Why are you acting like nothing happened?" You asked suddenly, voice cracking under the weight of your restraint.

He paused, head tilted slightly. "Huh?"

"Everything you said earlier. All that shit. You just walked away like it didn't matter."

He paused, then bent down, taking his shoes off. "Oh, that?" He said with a shrug. "Yeah, I changed my mind."

Your eyebrows shot up. "You changed your mind?"

"Didn't even fuck her." He added carelessly, like that erased it.

"I don't believe you." You said, voice cold.

He stood and began tugging off his pants. "Did you believe what I said earlier?"

You hesitated, then shook your head. "Honestly... I think I'm sober enough now. I'll just go."

You swung your legs off the bed, but the moment your feet hit the floor your body caved under its own weight.

"Yeah." He said quickly, pulling the blanket aside. "You're not going anywhere."

He settled beside you again comfortably... too comfortable.

"Just drink some water and chill. You'll be fine."

You didn't answer, you just turned your back to him, facing the wall.

"Are you really that mad at me?" He murmured, breath warm on your skin.

You didn't answer him, just exhaled irritated, flipping over onto your side, your back facing him. You rolled your eyes when you felt the bed dip as he moved closer, his chest pressing up against your back.

He wrapped an arm around your waist, his breath warm against the back of your neck. "C'mon." He murmured, coaxing. "You know I didn't mean it."

You scoffed, unmoved. "You know, you're the most exhausting person in the entire world."

"Yeah?" He replied lowly. His lips ghosted the shell of your ear, then drifted down to your neck, the touch barely there.

"Yeah." You snapped, though your voice was softer now. "And you're... you're the worst person I've ever met."

"I know." He whispered again, a little grin in his tone, like he liked the way you hated him, like he wanted to see how far you'd go before breaking.

His hand slid lower, trailing slowly down your torso. His fingers dipped under the waistband of your underwear, grazing the skin there before slipping inside.

You inhaled sharply as his fingertips brushed against your slickness, teasing your folds slowly. He pressed a kiss to your neck, hotter now.

"Wow." He breathed, lips dragging over your skin. "So wet."

You swallowed back a moan, breath hitching. "You really think you deserve to be fucked right now?" You murmured, voice low and shaky, but still sharp.

"I don't." He admitted softly, the words brushing against your skin. "But you do."

He flattened his tongue against your neck, licking a slow line up to your ear before whispering, "Use me."

That made you stop.

You turned your head slowly, facing him now. His eyes met yours, darker and glossier than before. He meant it, you could see it in the way his mouth parted, in the way his breath caught when your eyes locked.

"What do you want me to do?" He asked, voice eager in a way it's never been before.

"Keep going." You said quietly.

He smiled, but it vanished the second he dipped his head, mouth devouring your neck again, lips, tongue, and teeth dragging across your skin. His fingers moved more now, rubbing slow circles over your clit before dipping down to tease your entrance, just barely pushing in.

"I'll do whatever you want." He whispered, fingers still working you open. "Just tell me."

His mouth stayed on your neck, trailing open mouthed kisses, tongue dragging across the skin like he was trying to taste every sound you made. But it was his fingers that kept you gasping, pushing deeper now, curling perfectly inside you while his thumb rolled slow circles over your clit.

You arched into his hand. He groaned lowly against your throat, the sound muffled, almost like he was trying to stay quiet, but couldn't help himself.

His fingers fucked into you harder, knuckles brushing slick heat with every movement. You were so wet, your arousal coating his hand and sliding down your thighs, the sound of it filling the room.

You cried out when he slipped a third finger in without warning, stretching you wider. Your hand shot out, gripping at the sheets trying to ground yourself.

Your body jerked when his thumb pressed harder, rolling faster circles right over the spot that made you twitch. He felt the way you clenched around his fingers, and he didn't let up.

He fucked you with his fingers like he knew you better than you knew yourself. Like he wanted to pull every sound out of you, every reaction, until there was nothing left of your pride— just need.

He buried his face in your neck, teeth grazing your skin, breath hot as he kept moving his fingers inside you.

Your thighs clenched around his hand, your body tensing, even then his fingers didn't stop. They kept driving into you, rough and fast, curling just right inside you. He had you locked in place, your back flush to his chest, his other arm wrapped firm around your waist, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

You choked on a moan, your head falling back against his shoulder as your hips bucked.

"Fuck." You whimpered out.

Your whole body jerked, clenching around his fingers as you came with a loud cry. Your thighs shook uncontrollably as your orgasm hit you hard.

He didn't slow down, even as you finished, he kept fucking you with his fingers, your nails were digging into the sheets.

Your body fell against him, boneless, twitching slightly as the aftershocks rolled through you.

Your breath was still shaky, body still twitching, but something shifted in you. You turned in his grip, and before he could process it you pushed him back, flipping him onto his back with force that even surprised him.

He hit the mattress with a grunt, eyes wide, caught between confusion and anticipation.

He reached for your underwear, fingers sliding to the waistband like he thought he was still in control.

"No." You said flatly, grabbing his wrists and pinning them down against the bed.

He blinked up at you, eyebrows raised. "Seriously?" He muttered, cocking his head. "You're gonna make me wait like that?"

You didn't answer. Instead, your grip tightening on his wrists. "Did I ask you to speak?"

His mouth opened slightly, but nothing came out. He stared up at you stunned. For once, he had nothing to say.

You released one wrist and tapped his cheek lightly. "Aw, look at that. You're doing good already, such a fast learner."

He didn't respond, just stared at you like he didn't recognize this version of you— and maybe he didn't. Maybe he never knew how far you could push him.

You slid your hips forward once, just enough for your soaked underwear to press against him— enough for him to feel how close you were, how warm you were, without giving him anything.

He gasped.

You froze immediately, smiling wider. "I barely even moved." You whispered, tilting your head. "And you're already gasping?"

His hands curled into fists against the sheets, his jaw flexing, trying to hold it in.

Too late.

You rolled your hips again slower, dragging yourself against him, the heat and friction driving him crazy. He let out a low groan, biting his lip, but the noise still slipped free.

You laughed softly. "That's pathetic." You said, voice silky. "Already whining like I've done something special."

He arched into you slightly, but you pressed your palm against his chest, holding him down.

You didn't give him time to recover.

Your hips started moving again, slow at first, rolling into him with that same cruel precision, but the moment you felt the way he twitched under you, the way his breath caught and his fingers tightened in the sheets, you picked up the pace, faster and rougher.

Your nails dug into his chest for balance as you rode him, hips snapping against his, your soaked underwear still pressed between you both, friction building unbearably fast. His eyes were locked on you now. His mouth parted in a soundless moan, like he couldn't even form words anymore.

You leaned in close, lips brushing his jaw without kissing him. "Feels good, doesn't it?" You whispered against his skin, your breath heavy. "Getting used like this."

He didn't answer, couldn't. He just whimpered and it only made you grind down harder, circling your hips once slowly before slamming down again.

You were close, too. You could feel it starting to burn low in your stomach, spreading fast. Your rhythm grew more erratic, desperate even, but you refused to lose control. You kept him pinned, your hand against his chest, pushing down hard.

He bucked his hips up, trying to match your movements, chasing it, gasping now. His hands flew up to grab at your waist like he needed something to hold onto.

His mouth was moving, voice cracking. "Fuck, please, I'm gonna—"

You slammed your hips down harder, cutting him off, and he cried out. You could feel him trembling under you, his whole body tightening.

"Please let me come, fuck. I need it, I can't... I'm so close, please—"

You smirked through your own breathing. "You're begging now?" You murmured. "Look at you..."

He nodded, barely able to breathe, a wreck beneath you.

You were right there too, your body shaking with restraint, trying not to come first— trying to hold on long enough to decide if you were going to let him finish at all.

You didn't slow down. Not when his moans got louder, not when his hands clawed at your hips, not even when his head tipped back and his mouth dropped open with a gasp that sounded more like a sob.

You felt it— his whole body tensing beneath you, a sharp cry coming from his throat as he came in his boxers, hot and messy between your bodies. His thighs jerked uncontrollably, his chest heaving, hands gripping you tightly, but you didn't stop, you didn't even pause.

You kept moving, dragging your soaked heat against him through the aftermath of his high, hips grinding harder.

"Look at you." You murmured with a soft laugh. "Didn't even last, came in your fucking boxers like some desperate boy."

He whimpered under you, blinking up at you like he couldn't believe you were still moving.

You rolled your hips again slowly, and his whole body shuddered violently.

"Fuck— fuck, please." He gasped, voice shaking, louder now, eyes wide. "I can't, it's too much."

You grabbed his jaw, forcing his face back towards yours. "Then take it."

"Please, I can't. I'll come again— please stop, please."

But you didn't.

You kept going, eyes locked on his, breathing heavy. His moans turned to gasps, then to whines, his body twitching violently with every pass of your hips.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, his voice cracking.

Your hips moved faster, and the more he squirmed under you, the louder he got, the harder you rode him. His boxers were soaked now— warm and sticky.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum." You said, head falling back as your movements became messier.

Your body tensed, a choked moan coming from your throat as you reached your climax, your thighs trembling. And under you he was still squirming, overstimulated, but you stayed on him, letting the last shocks of your orgasm pulse through both of you.

You finally slowed, thighs trembling slightly as you lifted yourself off of him.

He looked ruined— flushed, hair a mess, his boxers soaked and sticking to him in the most humiliating way. His chest was still rising and falling hard, but as you sat beside him, a smile broke across his face.

"Shit." He exhaled, glancing over at you with a dazed grin. "That was... fuck, so good. Round two? Can we— can we actually fuck now?" He said, with faint left over arrogance.

You didn't say anything right away. You just stared at him, eyebrows slightly raised, lips parting like you were considering it. Then you tilted your head and gave him a look so cold, so dry, it silenced him instantly.

"Honestly?" You said. "You can go fuck yourself."

His smile dropped. "W— what?"

"You heard me." You leaned back, propping yourself on your elbows. "You can go fuck yourself."

He blinked clearly confused. "Wait— like... actually?"

You gave him a dark smile. "Right here. With me watching."

He stared, completely stunned.

"Well?" You asked. "I'm waiting."

He swallowed hard, then his hand started to move, slowly slipping beneath the waistband of his ruined boxers, his eyes locked on yours the whole time.

You didn't blink, didn't look away, you just leaned back fully, legs still slightly spread, gaze sharp as you watched him obey.

He was flushed, chest still heaving from everything you'd already done to him, and now here he was... obeying you, shame blooming across his face as he started to stroke himself.

You tilted your head, eyes fixed on the motion, the slick sounds already starting to fill the quiet space between you.

"God." You exhaled, voice low and amused. "Look at you."

His eyes flicked up to yours, like he was searching for something, permission, praise, maybe relief? Whatever it was, you weren't going to give it to him.

"Didn't even last five minutes, and you're already hard again?" You taunted. "You're actually pathetic."

His pace faltering for just a second before picking up again— faster this time, more desperate.

"Don't slow down." You warned, shifting slightly to spread your legs wider, giving him a full view as you sat back, one hand dragging down your inner thigh casually.

He bit his lip, nodding quickly, his hand moving faster now, breathing turning shaky again. His eyes stayed locked on you, taking in the way you sat there, smug, but still a bit flushed from your own orgasm. Your presence alone had him falling apart again.

"You gonna come again just from your hand?" You whispered. "With me watching you like this?"

He let out a shaky gasp, his hips jerking upward slightly and you caught it instantly.

"Oh my god." You said, laughing softly. "You're gonna do it, aren't you? Finish like this all messy and pathetic with me just sitting here." You reached forward, dragging a single fingertip up the inside of his thigh, not touching him where he needed, just enough to make him twitch.

His whole body tensed again, a broken moan escaping his throat as his hand sped up, gasping, eyes locked on you like he needed your gaze just to fall apart.

"Fuck, I'm gonna—" He cried out, voice cracking.

You leaned in, lips nearly brushing his ear.

"Do it." You whispered.

His whole body tensed up, a loud whimper escaping his throat as he came for the second time.

You just watched, your legs spread lazily, one hand propping you up while the other dragged absentminded patterns against your inner thigh like you weren't even all that impressed, like he wasn't anything special.

"Aw. Was that hard for you?" You asked, voice filled with condescension.

He didn't answer, couldn't. His lips parted like he might try, but nothing came out. Just a shaky exhale as he turned his head to look at you, face red, chest flushed, hands twitching slightly like he didn't know where to put them now.

"Twice in one night." You said, dragging your finger up your thigh again. "Didn't even need to touch you the second time." You said, laughing under your breath.

You stayed still for a moment longer, watching him breathe, his chest still rising hard.

You tilted your head slightly. "Come here."

He didn't hesitate, just nodded, crawling forward slowly. His knees shifted across the mattress until he was right in front of you waiting, still caught in whatever trance you'd pulled him into.

You gave a soft sigh, pausing for a second, looking at him. "On second thought... I'm bored with you."

His face dropped slightly, eyes growing just a little wider, and his mouth opened like he didn't know if he'd heard you right.

"W— what?" He said, blinking fast. "No, no, wait, I can— I can make you not bored. Just tell me what to do, I'll do anything, really."

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You're really this desperate?" You said flatly. "For... casual, regular, simple sex?"

He paused, didn't answer right away. "I'm sorry." He said quickly, too quick. "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean— I mean I just.. please, I didn't mean to make it feel like that. I didn't mean to ruin it—"

"Stop talking." You cut in. "I'm done with you."

His mouth hung open, chest still moving, eyes searching yours for any sign of mercy.

"Now please..." You said, voice dropping colder than ever. "Go shower, you're fucking disgusting."

He froze, letting out a faint exhale.

And then absurdly, he smiled. Just a small twitch at the corner of his mouth, nodding. "Yeah, okay."

He stood up slowly, and left the room without another word. You laid back down, flipping onto your side again, the exact same position you'd been in before all of it started, your lips curved up just slightly in a satisfied smile.

══════════════════════════

You woke up to the soft light filtering through the blinds. For a moment, you didn't know where you were, but sheets smelled faintly like him— distinctly Haechan. You blinked the haze out of your eyes, gradually sitting up.

Next to you, Haechan sat propped against the headboard, absently scrolling through his phone like it was any normal morning. You turned slightly, watching him for a second. He looked relaxed, completely unbothered, like last night never even happened.

"Oh, you're awake." He said, glancing over at you.

You didn't respond right away, just swung your legs off the side of the bed, grounding yourself with your hands in your lap as you stared down at the floor. Your head still felt slightly heavy, the remnants of everything from the night before pressing down on your chest.

"Um, you hungry?" He added, his tone light.

"I'll probably just pick up something on the way home." You muttered, about to stand.

"Wait—" He said quickly, sitting up straighter. "I can... I can just cook us something."

You shook your head gently, already pushing yourself to your feet. "You're good, I swear—"

"And I have to talk to you about something." He added, cutting you off mid sentence.

You froze.

A long moment of silence stretched before you gave in with a quiet sigh and nod, slowly settling back on the edge of the bed.

"Okay." You said simply.

He offered a faint smile before hopping up and leaving the room. "Okay, I'll call you when it's done."

Twenty minutes passed before he called your name from downstairs. You took your time going down, still slightly dazed, still unsure what exactly he had to say.

When you got to the kitchen, the table was set. He was already sitting down, looking up as you walked in.

"Wow." You said with a small smirk. "Didn't know you knew how to cook."

"Surprise." He said with a casual shrug.

You took a bite of the food, eyebrows lifting slightly in approval.

"Good." You muttered, almost reluctantly.

"Oh, thank you, thank you." He grinned, but then: "Oh, what the fuck was that last night?"

You looked up, expecting to see his defenses up, ready to brush things off as a mistake. Instead, his face was lit up with amusement, a grin on his face, no shame.

You giggled, the corner of your mouth twitching. "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?" He echoed dramatically, setting down his fork. "I mean, how you acted. I've never tried anything like that before."

You tilted your head. "Did you like it?"

"Did I like it? I loved it." He said without hesitation. "I've always wanted to try something like that out before, but I just didn't really trust anyone like that. It just turned me off with other girls, you know? But you—"

He was rambling now, his words flowing fast and unfiltered. "We definitely have to do it again, I mean— if you were into it?"

You smiled faintly, but there was a heaviness sitting behind your eyes. "Oh, so you're not bored anymore, huh?" The words left your mouth before you could pull them back.

The atmosphere immediately changed. He stilled, the brightness in his face dimming as the sound of your fork scraping the plate echoed like thunder in the silence.

"That's what I have to talk to you about, actually." He said, voice low.

You nodded, waiting, watching him gather himself, but then a loud knock suddenly hit the front door.

Both of your heads turned.

He frowned slightly, standing from his chair and walking over. You exhaled slowly, your lips tightening into a strained expression when the door opened.

It was her— the girl from last night.

"Hey, cutie. I think I left my bra here, can I come in?" She said brightly, smiling at him like you didn't exist.

"It's not here." Haechan said, his voice noticeably hushed, like he hoped you couldn't hear.

"No, I'm sure it's here." She said, taking a step forward. "C'mon, let me just take a quick look. Won't take me long— unless you want it to be long."

You didn't have to see him to know he looked exhausted. "Make it quick." He muttered.

She walked in, eyes scanning the place like she owned it. She made a dramatic turn toward the stairs.

"You know it's not up there, so cut it out." Haechan called out, annoyed.

She giggled. "Oh right, silly me. I just figured you would've put it away for me after I left it. Didn't think you'd seriously leave it in the bathroom for anyone to pick up."

Your jaw clenched.

She spun around again, searching the room, and then her gaze landed on you, her smile widening.

"Oh my goodness, this must be your sister? Hi! You're so pretty!"

You scoffed, an actual scoff, sharp and disbelieving as you turned toward Haechan. His eyes were already on you, guilt written all over them.

She disappeared around the corner and returned moments later, holding a black lace bra between her fingers like a trophy. "Found it!" She said, beaming.

"Good, now get out." Haechan snapped.

"Aww, okay." She said playfully, heading for the door. "See you later, cutie."

"Right." His voice was hollow as he shut the door behind her with a loud slam.

Silence.

Then you stood up slowly, pushing your chair back.

"Y/n, I swear—" He started, voice low and cautious.

"Yeah." You said softly, turning towards the stairs.

"Fuck. Y/n, wait—" He reached for your wrist.

You yanked it back. "Get the fuck off of me."

"Can you just let me explain?" He pleaded.

"Let you explain what? Every time you explain, the story changes. There's nothing to explain!" Your voice cracked at the edges, anger and betrayal spilling out in equal measure.

"Look, I know how it looks, but I swear I didn't fuck her."

"Oh?" You scoffed. "Her bra just teleported into your bathroom and now nobody knows what happened? You knew exactly where it was."

"Yeah I know, but we didn't do anything." He insisted.

"So what— she took her bra off for shits and giggles?"

"Yeah." He said, voice shaky.

You just shook your head. "You're a fucking joke."

You walked past him, storming back into his room to grab your pants. He followed you, desperate.

"We didn't fuck, we didn't even kiss— you've gotta believe me."

"Well, I don't. How can I fucking believe you?" You shouted, your voice breaking now as you shoved your shoes on. "You're nothing but a sex addicted, sorry excuse for a human being, and you think I'm seriously gonna believe you?"

He stood there quietly, his chest rising and falling, then something in him snapped.

"Oh, I'm a sorry excuse for a human being?" He shouted. "All that shit you did a year ago and you're talking about me? Take a look at yourself. You run back, don't you? You don't believe me, but you still let me touch you last night, right?"

You stopped dead in your tracks, your whole face twisting, rage bubbling up in your throat.

"Fuck you." You spat, venom in your voice.

"Fuck you." He shot back, almost automatic.

You stormed up to him, eyes burning, jabbing your finger into his chest. "I loved you. I gave you chance after fucking chance and you still fucked it up. People like you will always be lonely, no matter how many girls you fuck or how many you break. No one wants to deal with you."

He didn't speak. His mouth opened slightly, but the words didn't come as his eyes glistened.

"I really thought— God, I really thought that somewhere in there, you had love. That you actually cared about something more than yourself, but you're just a selfish fucking prick."

He opened his mouth again. "Oh, I'm a selfish prick?" His voice cracked now, raised but not loud— just hurt.

"Yeah." You said bitterly. "And I give up, I'm done with you."

You turned and headed for the stairs. He followed again, footsteps frantic behind you.

"Done with me?" He scoffed. "Leave then. I don't give a fuck."

You were already crying as you hit the bottom of the stairs, rushing toward the door. Tears streamed down your face, but you didn't care.

"You're nothing but a body to me. You really think I care?" He called after you, the words landing like a slap.

You stopped cold, hand on the doorknob. Then turned back to look at him one last time.

"Fuck you, Haechan." You whispered through your tears. Then you yanked the door open and slammed it shut behind you, storming to your car without looking back.

The drive home was chaotic, your mind spiraling the entire way. Your grip on the steering wheel was tight. Everything blurred together: Haechan's voice, the girl's face, the slam of the door behind you, it rang in your ears long after you pulled into your driveway.

The second you stepped through the door, you headed straight for the shower. You didn't bother to undress carefully— your clothes were on the floor within seconds. The water was scalding, but you barely noticed. You stood there, letting it rush over you like it could wash away the ache, the sting in your throat from screaming and crying. You scrubbed until your skin was aching, but no matter how hard you tried, the weight inside your chest stayed exactly where it was.

After drying off and pulling on a pair of shorts and an oversized shirt, you dropped into bed, damp hair soaking into the pillow. You sat there in silence, the room was still... too still.

You didn't want to be alone— not right now. Your roommates were out, like always. You stared at the ceiling for a moment before biting your lip, reaching for your phone. Your fingers hesitated over your screen, but then instinct took over.

You dialed Jaemin.

It rang once... twice.

Then his voice. "About time I hear from you."

"Jaemin." Your voice cracked around his name, tears you thought were gone welling again.

"What's wrong?" His tone changed immediately. You could picture the way his brows furrowed, his whole face shifting into concern.

"Can you come?" Your voice was so small.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course. I'll be there in... fifteen minutes." He paused, then sighed. "Thirty."

"Okay." You whispered.

Thirty five minutes later, a knock landed at your door.

You opened it slowly— and there he was standing with your favorite takeout in one hand and a small bouquet of flowers in the other. His expression was soft, warm, like he was showing up for someone he deeply cared about, and he was.

Your lips wobbled, a pout forming as you tried to keep it together, but your chest caved in again.

"Oh my gosh..." You mumbled.

"Aw, poor baby." He stepped inside immediately, shutting the door behind him before pulling you into his arms.

The moment you buried your face in his chest, you broke. Your tears poured out, soaking his shirt as your fingers clutched at him like you'd drown if you let go. You stayed like that for a while— no words, just his hands gently rubbing your back, his chin resting on your head.

When you finally pulled away, a large wet patch stained his shirt.

"Damn, girl." He said with a soft laugh, tugging at the fabric and inspecting it.

"Sorry." You sniffled, letting out a half laugh through your sorrow.

"It's okay. C'mon, let's go to your room."

His hand settled on your back, guiding you down the hall.

You sat on the edge of your bed, eyes still swollen, nose stuffy, while he placed the food down and peeled off his shirt. He paused, looking down.

"Through the tank top too." He laughed, pulling that off as well.

That's when your eyes landed on his skin— and the faint outline of hickeys scattered across his chest and collarbone.

"Wow." You blinked, eyes widening.

His brows furrowed at first before realization hit him and he chuckled. "I could say the same thing to you." He murmured, walking toward you. His fingers gently ran along the markings on your neck, ghosts from the night before.

You hummed, a quiet sound in your throat as you looked up at him with a small smile.

"Are you ready to tell me what happened now?" He asked gently.

You looked down for a second, then back up at him. "I don't wanna talk about it. Can you just... stay?"

"Yeah, of course." His smile was soft, understanding.

You both climbed into bed. His arm rested around your shoulder, his fingers tracing slow circles into your arm. Your legs brushed under the blanket, your body gradually settling into the quiet comfort of his presence.

After a while, you turned to him. "Why did it take you so long to reach back out?"

He didn't look away. "I just wanted to give you space. I didn't wanna overstep. I figured when you were ready, you'd talk to me, but I couldn't wait anymore so I took the initiative."

"Oh." You nodded slowly, then turned to face him fully. "You really thought I'd reach out first after everything you said?"

He looked at you, guilt flickering across his features. "I realized how stupid that was."

"Mmm." You hummed softly.

Silence followed again. You moved closer, wrapping your arms around his waist and laying your head against his bare chest. His skin was warm against your cheek, the steady beat of his heart grounding you.

That's when the thoughts came back, rising fast.

"Bro... I don't know." You whispered into his chest. "I really thought he loved me."

His voice was gentle. "Yeah?"

"He acted like he did— sometimes." You said, pulling your head back to look up at him, your eyes glassy again. "I don't know why I'm even still crying over him."

"I understand." He said quietly. "I told you he was trouble."

"I know." You sighed. "I should've listened. Ugh— I really thought I could change him."

That made Jaemin chuckle softly.

"It's not funny." You muttered, swatting his chest lightly.

"I know, I know." He smiled, brushing your tears away with his thumb.

"Listen, it's over now." He murmured, hand sliding down your cheek to cup it softly. "And everything's gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay, right?"

You groaned, turning your head away, but his fingers caught your chin and gently guided your face back to his.

"Okay?" He repeated.

You nodded, barely. "Okay."

The space between you changed. His eyes stayed on yours, soft but intense. His hand didn't leave your face and you didn't move either. You leaned in slightly, then stopped yourself.

"It's okay." He whispered, his voice low, his breath brushing against your lips. "Do it."

You hesitated again, but then he leaned in, pausing just an inch away. "Or I will." He added, before finally closing the space.

His lips met yours gently at first, then deeper. You didn't pull away, you melted into him instead— his mouth, his touch, the comfort you hadn't known you needed. His hand slid behind your neck, pulling you closer. The kiss intensified, growing heavier with each second. His tongue slid into your mouth, slow but sure, as his hands roamed across your body, searching and warm.

Your phone buzzed beside you.

Neither of you paid attention.

He pushed you gently onto your back, settling over you. His lips trailed from your mouth to your cheek, then down your jaw.

Your phone rang.

You glanced over, blinking— and froze.

Haechan lit up the screen.

You closed your eyes, heart twisting, fingers tangling into your hair as Jaemin's lips moved across your neck, leaving kisses— soft at first, then rougher.

His mouth found a sensitive spot, and you gasped, your body reacting before your mind could keep up.

The phone rang again.

Then again.

You tried to ignore it, tried to stay in the moment, but the name flashing on the screen was too loud.

Jaemin kissed you again, lower now, but your mind was somewhere else.

The phone rang once more.

"Wait— wait." You interrupted, breath catching as your eyes snapped open.

Jaemin pulled back immediately, eyes wide with concern as he sat up. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Yeah." You replied quickly, trying to steady your breathing. "I'm just— my phone's blowing up, and I'm really distracted and like..." You paused, pressing your lips together before biting down on the bottom one. "Sorry, can we just... do this later?"

His expression softened, cheeks still a little flushed. "Of course." He said gently, offering a small smile. "You don't have to be sorry."

You exhaled slowly, sitting up further and grabbing for your phone. "Who's blowing up your phone?" Jaemin asked, shifting beside you, propping himself on an elbow.

You thumbed through the notifications, scanning them from the bottom. "Spam." You muttered, dismissing a message from an unknown number.

"And... Haechan." You added, your voice quieting. You turned your phone toward Jaemin. "Four missed calls, two voicemails."

Jaemin scoffed, his jaw tensing slightly. "When did he get so fucking desperate?"

You shrugged, trying not to let the knot in your chest twist tighter, but something poked at you— nagging and insistent. "I never asked." You said, turning to him with a squint. "But... how do you even know this guy?"

"Oh." He said, blinking like he hadn't expected the question. "I met him last year. We had a class together, I don't know how he was a junior and I was a freshman, but hey. I started hanging out with his friend group, got super close, and that's it."

"So you're close?" You asked, head tilting.

"Yeah, something like that." He said, casually shrugging.

"Mmm." You hummed in response, nodding slowly. Then your thumb hovered over the voicemails. "Do you wanna listen to the voicemails with me?"

You tried to play it off with a smile, but truthfully your heart was racing. You were going to listen to them anyway— you just didn't want to be alone when you did.

Jaemin leaned back, resting against the headboard. "Sure, sweetums. Whatever makes you happy."

You gave a faint laugh, then opened the phone app and turned your volume all the way up. The first voicemail clicked on.

For a second, there was only heavy breathing, then his voice burst through the speaker— shaky, broken.

"Now you can't answer the fucking phone, huh? I know you see my calls, Y/n."

Your mouth dropped open slightly as you and Jaemin froze, listening.

"I fucking loved you— I love you, and you're just gonna walk out on me like I'm nothing? You're nothing—"

His voice cracked, like he was barely holding back tears.

"I'm gonna kill him." Jaemin shook his head in disbelief.

"Shh." You cut in quickly, swatting at his arm, your eyes not moving from the phone.

"I— and you're probably with Jaemin right now, aren't you?" Haechan's voice rasped.

You glanced at Jaemin with a twitch of a smile, but it dropped instantly.

"Like he isn't the cause of all this— like he didn't set this whole thing up. Yeah, bet you didn't know that, did you? That little jealous, selfish fucker. Trying to take you away from everyone, but can't even love you himself. And you're there? With him? Pitiful."

The room dropped into silence, tension thick enough to choke on.

You turned to Jaemin slowly, your expression tight, unsettled. "What the fuck is he talking about, Jaemin?"

His eyes stayed on yours, but something darker lingered in his gaze now. "He's lying."

"He's lying?" You echoed, brows furrowing. "Yeah, well it doesn't sound like he's lying."

"He's fucking lying to you, Y/n." Jaemin said firmly.

You shook your head, struggling to breathe evenly. "Why would he— he wouldn't— why would he say that though? Of all things, why that? He has no reason to lie... not about you. He doesn't even know what you are to me, he doesn't know we're this close, he probably doesn't know we even know each other."

"You're really about to question me right now?" Jaemin asked, voice rising with disbelief.

"I just don't know why he would say that." You admitted, voice cracking, hands shaking slightly as you stared down at your phone.

Then, something sparked in the back of your mind— the unknown number from earlier. You'd thought it was spam, but the area code was local, and something about it gnawed at you now.

"He's lying to you. You're seriously gonna let him shake you up like this—"

"Just shut the fuck up for a second, Jaemin. Please." Your tone was urgent, as you unlocked your phone and opened the text.

Unknown [4:28 PM]:

"Hey girly. Sorry to text you like this, I'm the one who left her bra at Haechan's house and I'm sorry about that. I didn't know stuff was serious between you two or that I was wrecking anything. I was completely left in the dark... I would never purposely do that. I was told you were just one of his hookups. Me and him never even fucked— he rejected me and left. I left my bra there on purpose so I could come back, just in case you were there in the morning. I hope this clears everything up. I'm sorry for the mess we caused."

You stared at the message, heart thudding.

You [4:48 PM]:

"Who's "we"?"

She replied instantly.

Unknown [4:50 PM]:

"Jaemin. That asshole. He knew I liked him, and he told me to be all up on Haechan, to try to hook up. Told me to leave my shit there so I could come back if the girl (you?) was still there in the morning. He described your car, said to be as annoying as possible. Told me he'd get with me if I did and I was stupid and believed him. We met up earlier today, he got head and left. Said 'this was fun' but he had to go. So fucking sick of men lol. Sorry again girl, I hope you get everything sorted out."

Your entire body went cold. Your hands trembled as you read the message once... then again.

"Jaemin." Your voice was flat now as you turned to him slowly. "The girl just told me what you did."

He rolled his eyes. "Great, now he's got a bitch lying on me too."

"You really believe that?" He added. "You believe them over your best friend?"

"I don't know what to believe right now." You said, breath unsteady. "But all I know is that Haechan would not go this far to lie... about you."

"Right, okay." He scoffed, shaking his head. "This dude broke your heart a million times, fucked a girl, had her pop up outta nowhere with a literal bra as evidence, and you believe him over me? After everything? I've always had your back. Yeah, I fucked up once or twice, but I always looked out for you— and you're really gonna believe them?"

You opened your mouth to respond, to agree with him, honestly, but then something snapped into place.

Your eyes narrowed. "How the fuck did you know that?"

Jaemin blinked. "Know what?"

"How did you know that she left her bra?" You repeated, voice rising. "I never told you that. So how do you know?"

His silence was immediate.

"How do you know, Jaemin!?" You sat up in the bed, your voice cracked and full of betrayal.

He let out a sharp breath, a bitter laugh escaping his throat. "Shit."

Your eyes welled up, you couldn't believe this. "It's you." You whispered.

"Y/n—"

"It's been you." You said, more firmly now, shaking your head in disbelief.

"Will you just relax." He muttered, calm in a way that only made it worse.

You stared at him, stunned. "Relax? You tried sabotage my relationship."

"You weren't together. So I didn't do anything." He said flatly.

"I loved him." Your voice trembled as tears filled your eyes. "I actually loved him and you ruined us— you ruined me."

"I ruined you?" He said with wide eyes, voice incredulous. "That's not how I remember it. I remember saving you. Keeping you from drinking too much, from drugs, from dying, but I ruined you?"

"Yeah." You said, voice sharp through the sob in your throat. "You're the reason."

He scoffed again. "I protected you. I was knocking out obstacles. Look what happened with the last guy, you healed when you were with me. You didn't need him, and you don't need Haechan either. As long as I'm here, you'll be fine, you'll have someone who actually loves you."

"You rejected me." You said, your voice a whisper.

"Yeah?" He shrugged, unmoved. "But I want you now, so..."

You froze. A single tear slipped down your cheek and you wiped it away with shaking fingers.

"You... you want me now?" You said with a bitter laugh.

"Mhm." He nodded. "Not like you haven't chosen me before. Do it again. e can be together."

Your jaw clenched. "I don't want to be with you."

His expression dropped, his eyes finally showing emotion.

"I don't want to see you again." You said, standing up. "I don't even want to know you."

"Wow. After everything I've done for you?" He snapped.

"Get out." Your voice cracked through the air.

"Seriously?"

"Get your shit and leave— now." You pointed to the door.

He scoffed again, rolling his eyes. "Whatever. Let's see how long until you come crawling back."

You stood there, arms crossed, chest aching as you watched him gather his things, not saying another word, and when the door slammed shut behind him, you didn't cry. You just stood there in the silence, your thoughts racing like a storm you couldn't outrun, crashing into each other with no direction.

You paced around your room, feet dragging over the floor like they couldn't decide where to go next. Then your eyes landed on the flowers and takeout bag sitting on your dresser— Jaemin's "comfort gifts" a gesture that now felt so calculated.

Before you could stop yourself, you grabbed them both with trembling hands and marched to the trash can, shoving them inside like they were toxic. The flowers crumpled, petals breaking beneath your force. The food spilled open, untouched, as the bag collapsed into the bin. You stood over it, chest rising and falling, arms tense at your sides.

That's when you realized tears were falling now. They slipped quietly down your cheeks, and you didn't even feel them until they hit your lips. You wiped them away hastily with the back of your hand, sniffing hard as you made your way back to your room, sitting down slowly on your bed.

You grabbed your phone, thumb hesitating over the screen before you tapped back into the voicemail from earlier. You played it again, letting Haechan's broken voice echo through the room, analyzing every syllable, every pause, hoping— desperately hoping that you'd catch something off, something that would prove he was lying, that Jaemin hadn't been the villain after all.

But deep down, you knew.

You weren't looking for the truth, you were just looking for something to hold onto.

Your eyes drifted to the second voicemail— the one you hadn't played yet. It sat there like a wound you hadn't touched. You stared at it, your thumb hovering over the play button, part of you wanted to delete it, let it die in the silence, move on.

You needed to, you knew that. It was the healthy thing to do.

But your heart didn't want clean, it wanted closure, connection. Something... anything, to explain why this all hurt so much.

You took a deep shaky breath, then hit play. There was silence at first like the last, then his voice— rough and cracked, the sound of someone unraveling.

"Fuck, I'm sorry. I don't know what to do, Y/n. I really don't."

You blinked, heart already pulling tight.

"I didn't do anything— I didn't do anything with her. Can you just come back and I'll explain everything, I swear. Just please... come back. Fuck, please, I love you. I'm sorry, I do. Just come back."

A pause. You could hear the faint clatter of something in the background. Then... a breathless, broken sob.

"Come back."

The voicemail ended, but the silence afterward felt louder. You sat there for a long moment, your mind numb, your heart in your throat. You swung your legs off the bed, planting your feet on the ground, tapping one nervously against the floor as your hand curled into a fist. You bit down on your lip, hard, then stood. You didn't even grab a jacket, you just grabbed your keys and walked out the door.

The drive was a blur.

Your thoughts were spinning too fast to keep up. What were you doing? What were you expecting? Maybe he wasn't even home anymore, maybe he'd already moved on or maybe— maybe this was you being weak.

But still, you kept going.

When you got to his place, you knocked. Once... twice, then harder— nothing.

You waited another moment before pulling out your phone and dialing his number. No answer, your fingers hovered over the doorknob. You hesitated, then tried it and it was unlocked.

"Haechan?" You called softly, peeking your head inside.

No answer.

You were ready to walk away. You were so close, so close to leaving it all behind, but then your eyes landed on the full sized bottle sitting open on the counter, almost empty.

You stepped inside cautiously, shutting the door behind you. "Haechan?"

No response.

Your fingers tightened around the bottle as you picked it up, eyes narrowing in worry. Something didn't feel right. The air was still, too still. You moved through the kitchen, then slowly up the stairs, calling his name again, voice low but urgent.

You checked the bathroom, empty. Then you turned to his bedroom— and your heart stopped.

He was there, sprawled across his bed, deathly pale. One hand rested limply on his stomach, the other clutched his phone, your contact still lit up on the screen. On the nightstand beside him sat another half drained bottle of liquor.

"Shit." You whispered, rushing over.

You dropped to your knees beside the bed, pressing your hand to his cheek... ice cold.

Your panic surged, but you quickly placed two fingers against his neck. There it was, a pulse. Weak, but steady.

You exhaled, body trembling in relief. "Jesus." You muttered, rubbing your temples as you looked around the room. You reached for the trash can, dragging it beside the bed in case he threw up, turning his body to the side. Then you grabbed the bottle from the nightstand and carried it downstairs, pouring what was left into the sink.

You filled a glass with water, your hands shaking slightly as you brought it back upstairs and set it down beside him. You watched him for a second, debating. You should probably go, he wouldn't even remember this, but as you looked at him—his lashes resting softly on pale cheeks, his chest rising and falling slowly, the phone still gripped in his hand, your feet didn't move. You sat on the edge of his bed, scrolling through your phone, not even seeing the screen. You stayed there, just... watching him, listening for changes in his breathing, checking to make sure he didn't roll onto his back again or get sick.

Eventually, your body gave in to the weight of the night. You curled beside him, not too close, but close enough, eyes slowly beginning to drift shut.

Your eyes opened slowly, a low throb at your temples as you blinked through the dim room. It was dark, the soft hum of the ceiling fan above breaking the stillness. You glanced at your phone. 1:02 a.m.

You sighed, sitting up carefully. The air in the room was heavy and quiet, your body aching in a way that had nothing to do with sleep. You rubbed at your eyes, brushing away the fuzz, and glanced over at Haechan.

He was still knocked out, body sprawled carelessly across the bed. You noticed the empty water glass on the nightstand, then the trash can beside the bed— once empty, now not. You scrunched your nose at the smell, stepping past it and picking up the glass quietly.

You hadn't even heard him get sick.

Downstairs the faucet's low pressure fell into the cup. You stood in the kitchen in silence, the chilled water settling in the glass as you stared out the window. When you returned and placed the glass down beside him, his voice cut softly through the quiet: "Thank you."

You jumped, not expecting him to be awake.

He was lying there, eyes open now, watching you with a mixture of exhaustion and something else.

"Mmm." You hummed in response, brushing it off with a nod. You turned away without another word and headed for the door.

"Your stomach's been growling all night." He said behind you, voice low but casual.

You paused, half smiling bitterly. "Yeah." You murmured, then kept walking.

"You wanna get some food? We could go downtown or something."

You stopped again, letting out a slow, heavy breath. "Kinda far, I'll probably just hit a late night diner."

"Let me take you." He offered.

That was it. You turned, already irritated. "You really think I'm gonna let you drive me anywhere after the state I found you in tonight?" Before he could answer, your voice cut sharper. "That means no, you cannot take me."

He hesitated, eyes flickering down, before looking back up. "Can I come with you then?"

You stared at him, unblinking. "You just don't give up, do you?"

He shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "You wanna talk, don't you? Why else would you be here?"

"Not over food. So there's no reason for you to come."

He didn't respond, just gave you that look— soft.

You rolled your eyes and exhaled. "Fine, come on."

The car ride was dead silent. The glow of the streetlights washed over both of you, passing over your face like waves. You stared straight ahead, gripping the wheel, jaw tight. When you pulled into the diner parking lot, the familiarity hit like a punch to the chest. You didn't know why it stung— maybe because you'd sat here before with Jaemin, laughing, maybe because it used to feel warm. Now it just felt like a graveyard of memories.

You walked in, Haechan following behind. At the counter, the cashier's eyes flicked between the two of you.

"Is it separate or together?" She asked.

"Separate—" You started, but was cut off.

"Together." Haechan said quickly, pulling out his wallet without even glancing at you.

You looked at him coldly, then turned back. "Tenders and fries, please."

The cashier nodded. You walked away without waiting for him and slid into the booth by the window, arms crossing over your chest as you stared out into the parking lot. Your fingers fiddled with the napkin dispenser, anything to avoid thinking about the seat across from you— the one Jaemin had used to sit in.

Eventually, Haechan made his way over, setting two drinks down and sliding one across to you. You didn't look up, just took a sip.

"Look." He began, voice careful. "I know it's a lot right now, but—"

"You need help." You cut him off sharply. "I seriously thought you were dead."

He blinked, surprised at the force of your words. You looked up for the first time, and the look in your eyes stopped him mid thought.

"I didn't even drink that much." He said, trying to justify it.

"If I didn't come, you would've been gone." Your voice cracked slightly. "You were on your back when I found you, you could've choked on your own vomit."

His expression softened. "I'm sorry I worried you."

"Don't apologize to me. Get help."

He went quiet, then his brows furrowed slightly. "Are you sober?"

You shot him a warning look, eyes narrowing.

He swallowed hard, nodding. "I'm— I'm gonna go get the food." He slid out of the booth and walked away, his eyes lingering on you until the last second.

When he returned, he set the tray down gently. You didn't speak— you just picked up a tender and took a bite, the warmth immediately grounding you. Your shoulders relaxed slightly, the food didn't solve anything, but it filled the aching pit in your stomach you didn't realize had formed. You ate quickly, staring at the plate the whole time. When you looked up, Haechan was staring.

"What?" You asked.

"Nothing." He smiled. "You just... look like you feel better. You were definitely hangry."

You shook your head, almost laughing through your nose, he wasn't wrong. Hunger mixed with betrayal and heartbreak made a vile combo.

"I just can't believe this. Why is this happening to me?" You said softly. You paused, staring into your cup. "He was my best friend."

Haechan nodded. "Yeah, I understand."

You looked at him suspiciously. His words felt... rehearsed, familiar, like they weren't really his.

"Are you hiding anything from me?" You asked, eyes locked on him.

He avoided your gaze. "You said you didn't want to talk over food."

You nodded slowly... that was not a no.

Once the meal was over, you got back in the car.

"Can we make a stop? Please?" He asked before you pulled off.

"Haechan—"

"Please." He said again. "It's not far."

You sighed heavily and handed him your phone. He typed in the destination quietly.

The drive wasn't long, but the confusion in your chest grew stronger with every mile.

You pulled into a small, empty parking lot surrounded by nothing but open land. Before you could ask questions, he was already getting out of the car.

"C'mon." He said, walking around to your side.

You followed slowly, suspicious but curious. He took your hand gently, guiding you down a gravel path, and there it was.

A glowing rose garden, soft lights woven around the path like stars had melted into the earth and at the end sat a single bench facing the sea of red.

You froze, heart twisting. It should've been beautiful— romantic even, but all you felt was suspicion.

The flowers, the food, the timing. It was all too perfect... too planned.

"Why are we here?" You asked, voice low and guarded.

He turned to you. "You said red calms you down... so I thought it would be the best place for us to talk."

You swallowed hard, blinking back the heat in your eyes. You nodded once, quietly, and sat beside him. Your hands folded in your lap, your gaze locked on the roses.

"How much did he tell you— what did he tell you?" Haechan said, voice steady.

You didn't answer at first, you just turned your head toward him, eyes heavy with exhaustion— not just from the night, but from everything. The silence was answer enough.

He nodded slowly, inhaling through his nose. "Okay." He said, the word landing like a weight. "I'll just start from the very beginning."

You turned back toward the glowing field of red, letting the gentle sway of the roses distract your thoughts as you waited.

"I guess this whole thing started the third time you came to one of my parties— when he tried to get revenge on me through my sister."

You turned your head, surprised. "You knew about that?"

He gave a dry chuckle, his gaze lowered. "Yeah, I'm not stupid. I figured it out the second time, it didn't take much."

You just nodded, letting him continue.

"I confronted him about it, kind of threatened him, I guess, but I wasn't really worried about him and my sister. I was more worried about you. I was... interested, wanted to know more about you, but I didn't have your number and nobody seemed to know much, except Jaemin."

He shifted slightly beside you, hands in his lap.

"So I told him to bring you again. He got weird— defensive even. Kept saying it wasn't a good idea. Seemed like he was genuinely trying to protect you, but I didn't care. I told him it was gonna be a problem if he didn't, and next thing I knew, you showed up again." He shrugged faintly.

You blinked slowly, jaw clenched. A lot of the missing pieces were starting to surface now, things that once seemed random now had weight.

"That's when we started to get close and he started to distance himself from me. I figured he was still wrapped up in the whole thing with my sister. He probably thought I'd flip out or get hurt, but I didn't care. He thought I would... but I didn't." He gave a bitter laugh. "I knew my sister, I knew she'd never really fall for someone like him."

You stayed quiet, your arms folded tightly against yourself.

"Then that one night— where I was really fucked up and you were there... I don't remember much, but I remember waking up and holding you. And I panicked, I kicked you out because I didn't know how to process it, I've never felt that way before. So I sat on it for a while and ended up telling my friends, including Jaemin, that I liked you— that I thought I was ready for something real."

Your breath caught slightly in your chest. You turned to face him again, eyes wide and glassy. He liked you, he had wanted something real. You thought you would never hear those words from him. Your heart clenched as your gaze slowly fell away again, back to the roses.

"It took a lot of growth for me to get there." He continued. "I'd been through so much shit— things that made me feel like I wasn't capable of love. My friends knew that, they were happy for me. All of them, except Jaemin. He just... went cold, looked almost sad."

Haechan's voice lowered, like he was reliving it. "I asked him what was wrong. That's when he told me— told me that you were the one who hurt my brother badly. I didn't believe him at first, but then he showed me the picture."

Your jaw clenched instantly. Of course. Jaemin was the only one who had it, you should've questioned how Haechan ever got it, but you hadn't. You didn't think you needed to.

"I felt like everything shattered at once." He said quietly. "Everyone just stared at me. They knew how bad that whole situation with my brother had been, it broke me. So I panicked, I called you over to confront you. But I didn't know how to handle it— I was overwhelmed, scared you might hurt me the same way, so I lashed out. I hated myself for it right after. I felt ashamed, like I could never get things right. So I told you not to talk, not yet, because I needed to think."

He let out a long sigh. "I ended up talking to my brother. Told him about you, about how I felt. And you know what he said? He told me to do whatever felt right, that he didn't care about the past, that he wouldn't stand in the way just because of what happened before, that he wasn't gonna cockblock me over something that was done."

He chuckled softly, almost with disbelief. "God, I love him."

You swallowed the lump rising in your throat.

"After that, I started thinking again, really thinking, and then I realized something didn't sit right. Like... why didn't Jaemin tell me this before? He's known my brother so long, if he knew about what happened, why wait until now?"

You bit your lip, voice low. "He probably didn't think it mattered. Thought I wouldn't fall for you."

Haechan nodded slowly. "Yeah, exactly." He shook his head. "None of it added up. That's when I knew— I had to hear your side for real this time. So I texted you, I wasn't sure if you'd even reply. I could tell you were checking out, but you did and when I came over and you told me everything... it clicked." His voice softened.

"It was not you that was problem with my brother, at least not the after math, it was Jaemin. He took you when you were most vulnerable, and he manipulated you, he manipulated you and hurt my brother while doing so."

You stared ahead, the numbness seeping back in. A slow burning cold spread through your chest. He was right, that's all Jaemin ever did. Took what he needed when he needed it, made you feel like something valuable— until he didn't.

"I confronted him a few days later." Haechan went on, voice bitter now. "I was about to beat the shit out of him, honestly. My friends held me back. I told him straight up that I was going to be with you, and there was nothing he could do to stop me."

He paused, jaw clenched.

"That's when he threatened me. Said he had nudes of my sister, and he'd expose them if I didn't back off. I didn't know if it was true, but I was terrified. He already hurt one of my siblings— I wasn't about to risk another."

Your hand trembled slightly in your lap, but you said nothing.

"Then you called. Of course, perfect timing. He told me to answer, told me to invite you to the party. Said we were gonna make sure you left for good and made up some big plan— some twisted scenario where I'd hurt you, make it so bad you'd never come back. I told him you wouldn't come, but I think... deep down I knew you would. I prayed you wouldn't, but I knew you would."

His voice cracked slightly.

"I called my sister after, desperate for clarity, but she was on some trip with no data, I was alone in it. Then you walked in and everything fell apart. I couldn't stop anything, I didn't know what to do, there was nothing I could do. So I disappeared to the bathroom, that girl followed me, started undressing— I wasn't into it. And then finally my sister called back and came to pick me up so we could talk in person at her place. She said she had never sent Jaemin anything. He was bluffing, just buying time and I'd let him."

He ran a hand through his hair.

The memories from the night flooded in, seeing them together, Jaemin slipping in and apologizing out of nowhere, his friends looking for him and saying he wasn't with a girl.

"I was gonna confront him again. Do worse this time, but you texted me... you needed a place to crash and I realized, that was it. That was my chance, I needed to be there for you, not focus on him."

You swallowed hard.

"I wanted to tell you everything that night." He said. "But you were out of it, I just needed to keep you there till morning, and when I was finally about to explain... she showed up and it ruined everything. I knew it was Jaemin, but before I got the chance you started leaving and saying all that stuff to me. I panicked again, said things I didn't mean. I didn't even know why, I just wanted to hurt you before you could hurt me anymore."

"She came back later. " He continued. "Crying, saying Jaemin ghosted her. I gave her your number, told her to tell you what she told me. I didn't know if you'd believe it, I just... hoped. I started calling you, figured you were with him and the next thing I knew... I blacked out and that's it."

Silence.

You stared at the roses, their soft red glow blurring in your vision. You felt raw, carved out.

"You okay?" He asked, gently placing a hand on your thigh, rubbing it with slow comfort.

You didn't answer. Just sat in the silence, letting the hum of the wind and the ache of everything fill the space.

Then finally, you whispered: "Did you mean it?"

"Mean what?" He asked.

"When you said you love me."

He paused, looking away, then back again. "I think so." He said honestly. "I can't stop thinking about you, I only want you. That... feels like love to me."

You parted your lips, about to speak, but stopped. You sat with it, with everything.

"Haechan, I know most of this isn't your fault, but you've never really treated me well. You've made me feel like shit about myself. Like I deserved this, and I don't."

"You don't." He said quickly. "I know you don't. I just... I don't know how to do this, Y/n. I'm trying."

"I know." You whispered. "And I get that. But you're not a child, Haechan. I can't keep sitting here, waiting for you to figure it out while I bleed for it. I'm tired and I'm hurt."

His eyes glistened under the low lights, lips slightly parted.

"Yeah." He said, voice tight. "Okay, I get it."

Minutes passed in silence again. You took a deep breath. "I'm ready to go now."

He nodded slowly. "Okay."

Back in the car, the drive to his house was quiet again. He didn't get out right away. He looked at you, something fragile in his expression.

"I'm just gonna give you space, okay?" He said. "Tell me when you want to be near me again. Just come over... I'll be here. Waiting."

You nodded. "Okay."

He offered a small, sad smile, then got out and closed the door behind him. And you just sat there, still, the glow of the roses lingering in your mind like a memory you weren't sure was real.

When you got home that night, everything crashed down on you. The silence in your room was deafening, your thoughts tangled and felt heavy like they were weighing on your chest. Nothing felt real, and everything felt like too much. You sat on the edge of your bed, running your hands through your hair, heart pounding in your ears.

You needed out. Out of this town, out of yourself.

Without thinking twice, you grabbed your laptop and stayed up the entire night researching— flights, hotels, long stays, trains, trails, anywhere with space to breathe. By morning, your eyes were bloodshot and your screen was filled with confirmation emails. You were going, it was done.

══════════════════════════

One week passed. It was quiet, almost suspiciously so. You packed everything you needed into the back of your car— luggage tucked neatly, passport ready, playlist queued. There was only one stop left before the airport.

You pulled into the familiar street, parking in front of his house. It looked the same— quiet, still, like the world didn't know everything that had happened inside it. You stepped out, the air thick and warm, and walked up the steps. Your knuckles hesitated before they knocked softly.

He opened the door after a few seconds, hair tousled like he'd just woken up. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of you. There was surprise there, but not disbelief.

"Okay... I didn't expect it to be this soon." His voice was soft.

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head as you stepped inside, the faint scent of him still lingering in the air.

"I'm going abroad for a bit." You said it casually, looking around the space like it was already behind you.

"What's... 'a bit'?" He asked, his voice hesitant.

"A month, maybe two, possibly three." You turned to face him, eyes honest.

His brows lifted. "Wow, that's not 'a bit', that's a full on escape plan."

You chuckled softly. "It's short for me. Honestly, I wanted to leave for a year."

He paused, then nodded like he understood. "Yeah I get it, but... I'm gonna miss you." His eyes met yours. "You're not gonna ditch me completely, are you?"

"No." You said quickly, then hesitated. Your voice softened. "But I need you to not contact me, at all. I felt guilty blocking you, so... I just wanted to let you know before I go."

He pressed his lips together, nodding slowly. "Mmm." There was a flicker of hurt there, but he tried to mask it. "I'll try not to."

You gave him a look.

A small smile cracked across his face. "Okay, fine. I won't."

There was a pause, a quiet tension building in the stillness. You looked down at your watch. "Well, I should get going. Don't want to miss my flight."

"Right." He nodded, stepping forward as you turned to leave. His arms wrapped around you tightly, pulling you against him in a familiar, grounding way.

"Do you know exactly when you'll be back?" He asked, his voice muffled against your shoulder, like he didn't really want to know the answer.

"I'm not telling you." You laughed softly into the hug.

"So how am I supposed to know?"

"You'll feel it in the air." You teased. "Or... I don't know, just call me or something."

He leaned back to look at you, rolling his eyes. "Oh. I see what you did there." He sighed. "Whatever. Just... have fun, okay? Stay safe and let me know if you need anything, anything at all."

Your eyes locked with his— warm, sad, familiar. You reached up, gently cupping his cheek before leaning in to press your lips against his. The kiss was long and quiet, full of everything you couldn't bring yourself to say out loud.

When you finally pulled away, his eyes were glossy, searching yours like he wasn't ready to let go.

"I don't know... that felt like a goodbye forever." He said quietly.

You took a breath. "More like... I need some time alone to heal."

He nodded, eyes soft. "If I figure everything out before you get back... will you be ready?"

You paused, looking away for a moment before meeting his gaze again. "I don't know." You were honest.

"But you should try anyway." You added. "For yourself."

He nodded. "Okay, I will."

"Promise?" You asked, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

He held out his pinky. "Only if you promise to at least come check when you get back."

You shook your head with a soft laugh and linked your finger with his. "You better hold your end of the bargain, Haechan. I'm not playing."

"I will, I promise." His pinky curled tight around yours.

"Bye." You smiled.

"See you."

You walked out, the door clicking shut behind you and just like that, you left.

Not running, not escaping, but reclaiming something— space to breathe, space to think, space to heal.

A whole year's worth of chaos packed into a suitcase, and finally... you were letting it go.

══════════════════════════

Two months later, you finally landed in the city again. As the plane wheels slid across the ground, the familiar skyline greeted you like a memory— familiar, once suffocating, now softened around the edges. You had expected the ache in your chest to return the second you stepped back onto this soil, but it didn't, or maybe it did just a little less loudly this time.

You made it back to your apartment and set your bags down quietly, eyes scanning the room. Everything was exactly how you left it. The old memories echoed in the walls, but they didn't scream anymore, they just... lingered.

Your phone buzzed in your hand and you glanced at the time.

10:33 PM.

Thursday.

That day used to mean something else, something bittersweet, familiar, the quiet routine of wanting more but never asking. You stood there for a moment, torn. You made a promise, just to check, just to see.

You weren't sure what you expected— maybe to find he moved on, maybe to prove to yourself that you had. But hope, as annoying as it was, always knew how to sneak in.

You threw on something a little nicer— something that made you feel a bit like yourself again, and headed out. The house was alive with sound, music pulsing through the walls, laughter spilling. You wove your way through the crowd, faces both familiar and distant flashing past, but no Haechan.

You ended up in the kitchen, where a neat line of unopened bottles sat on the counter. You picked one up absentmindedly, turning it over in your hands, unsure if you even wanted to open it.

"You're drinking without me?"

You froze, smile appearing on your lips before you even turned around.

And there he was. Standing there with that same crooked smile, looking at you like you never left— like he'd been waiting.

"I'm sorry, who are you again?" You teased, eyebrow raised.

He laughed. "I knew you were back, I felt it in the air."

You rolled your eyes, but smiled. "I guess that's just the effect I have, huh?"

He took a step closer. "How have you been?"

You exhaled softly. "Good. Refreshed...happy."

His face broke into a genuine smile. "I'm really glad."

"And you?" You asked, studying his expression.

He shrugged, eyes still warm. "Been hanging in there."

You paused, tilting your head. "I came to check on you. I kept my end of the promise... did you?"

His grin turned sheepish, but he didn't answer. Instead, he gently took your hand and led you upstairs. The hallway felt familiar beneath your feet, but quieter now, less heavy.

When you entered his room, you noticed the small things first. A vase of fresh roses and sunflowers sat on his nightstand— alive and blooming, next to it a journal.

He picked it up and held it out like it was a metal.

"My therapist told me to start writing stuff down. My feelings, my thoughts, all of it. It was hard at first, like... really hard, but I did it and it helped— a lot." His smile was proud but a little shy.

"I'm so proud of you." You said, eyes soft. "Can I read it?"

He nearly choked. "Uh uh, absolutely not. Not yet."

You laughed, backing off with your hands raised. "Okay, okay, don't freak out."

He carefully placed it back on the nightstand, then turned to face you fully. "I'm trying, is that good enough for you?"

You stood there, caught in a quiet moment, eyes on him as your thoughts swirled. You missed him, that was undeniable, but there was still that voice— the one that warned you not to fall back into something that hurt.

You took a deep breath. "I— I don't know." You said honestly.

His face didn't fall, he just nodded patiently.

"I understand."

"But." You added, meeting his eyes again, "I'm willing to take things slow... something calm."

His face lit up instantly, hope returning to his eyes. "Really?"

"Really." You nodded. "But I swear— one wrong step, one moment that hurts me again, and you're done."

"Okay." He said quickly, almost too quickly. "Deal, a thousand percent."

You let him pull you into a hug, arms wrapping around you tightly like he wasn't quite convinced you were real yet. You didn't let go either, not for a long moment.

When he finally leaned back, his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin gently.

"Is this too fast?" He asked.

You blinked. "What?"

"If I kissed you, and didn't stop."

You stopped, a small grin on your face. "Yeah..." You said slowly. "But... I can make a few exceptions."

His grin deepened, and without another word, he closed the distance, pressing his lips to yours in a slow, lingering kiss. It wasn't rushed, or messy, or desperate.

It felt like relief, it felt like trying again.

For once you weren't chasing clarity in someone else— you had found it in herself. You've done the hard work, peeled back the layers, and realized that your healing didn't have to mean shutting everyone out. You could choose love and still choose yourself. You could stay, not because you needed to be saved, but because you wanted to give love a chance without losing who you were in the process. Maybe that was the difference this time— you weren't afraid to walk away, but you didn't have to.

══════════════════════════

Epilouge: Haechan’ s Journal.

══════════════════════════

#nct x reader #nct smut #nct #nct fanfic #nct dream #nct dream smut #nct dream x reader #nct fic #haechan x reader #nct haechan smut #haechan smut #nct haechan #haechan #nct dream haechan #haechan angst #nct dream angst

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3d-wifey · 7 months ago

Note

can i get a short lil sumthin sumthin about remus and his girlfriend being academic weapons, sirius and james thinks they're boring bc they've been doing their work in the library for hours but they're actually cockwarming and seeing who'll crack first heheheh 👀👀👀

"Focus, Lupin"

Pairing: Remus Lupin x girlfriend!reader

Synopsis: You and Remus are quite competitive, always going head-to-head in your classes. It’s commonplace to compete for the highest marks. What isn’t commonplace is the sabotage in the form of Remus’s wandering hands.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: well, smut of course! Exhibitionism, possessive Remus, yall are both freaks tbh, cucking? cock warming, riding

A/N: The other marauders have a big fat stinking crush on you but that's neither here nor there until the end of the fic. Sighhh, I go through my marauders mood swings. Your house isn't clear so feel free to pick any of them.

Tags: @yvy1s @innercreationflower

Remus hooks his chin over your shoulder, looking for all the world as if he's just getting into a better position to read his chicken scratch notes, pressing your back even further against his chest. You inhale, clenching around him at the sudden movement. You scoff at his near-inaudible laughter, elbowing him as he chuckles into your neck.

"Quit it." You grumble, quil moving at the speed of light as you furiously write.

"Quit what?" He moves the textbook you're sharing closer, the big hand he places on the page mirrors the one that's settled on your stomach. He spreads his fingers wide like he's stretching them before he drums them along the parchment. You wish you hadn't left your robes in your dorm, at least then you'd have another layer between your skin and Remus's teasing touch.

"You're cheating." You hiss, but that's the most you do to reprimand him. It's your fault you're in this mess anyhow.

Both of you are always the highest scorers in your class. And with the past few exams, you've been getting the same score or beating each other by a point or two. It's bloody frustrating.

You continuously tried to one-up each other in academics, long after you two started dating. He's your rival first, boyfriend second.

At this very moment, before you both sit two half-done papers for your N.E.W.T-level Alchemy class that isn't due for another week, but you get extra house points if you're the first to turn it in.

Which you plan to be, even if half the blood in your brain has traveled down to where you're swollen and soaked. You both sit completely clothed, other than where you're hitched on Remus's cock, knickers pulled to the side.

Of course, the library is empty. It's nine in the afternoon on a Friday. And it was your idea to see whose dedication would overpower their carnal desires.

He laughed you off at first. A soft, dismissive chuckle rumbling from his chest, muffled by the book he barely looked up from. Typical, shaking his head as if you'd said something absurd and that was the beginning and end of it. But you knew him well enough by now to know which buttons to push—and exactly how hard.

"Yeah, right," you sighed, letting your tone drop into exaggerated defeat as you flopped back against his headboard. "Wouldn't be much of a competition anyway."

Remus paused mid-turn of the page. His brows furrowed, eyes flicking to you in sharp suspicion, but you didn't look at him. Not yet. Instead, you stretched out along his bed like a cat, carefully keeping your expression blank as you toyed with the edge of the blanket.

"...And what's that supposed to mean?" His voice was sharp, clipped, but you could hear the curiosity, the irritation. The competitive edge. Exactly what you were counting on.

"Hm? Oh, nothing." You waved a hand vaguely in his direction, settling yourself comfortably against his pillows. You stretched a little more, arching your back like a cat before flopping onto your side. You kept your expression perfectly neutral, but you knew he could feel the smirk simmering beneath the surface. "It's just...well, we both know you'd give in long before me. So there's truthfully no point in even entertaining the idea." You shrugged, all nonchalance, even as you felt your chest flutter at the way his brows drew together. "I'm just agreeing with you, Rem."

His scoff was immediate, sharp and incredulous. You'd earned yourself a full look now, his book lowering just enough to reveal the disbelief etched across his face. “That’s not what I said.”

You shrugged as if it was no concern to you, deliberately looking away like the conversation was already over, knowing full well he wouldn’t let it rest. You flipped onto your stomach, propping your chin on your hands to stare at him with wide, innocent eyes. "Didn’t need to."

You bit your lip to keep from smiling as his book lowered—not abruptly, but slowly, deliberately. One inch, then two—his sharp amber eyes flicking to yours. The forefinger he slipped between the pages made it look like he might still pretend to be reading, but you knew better.

The scar closest to his eye twitched, irritation flickering faintly across his face. Merlin, you always loved how expressive that scar was when he was annoyed. One of his fingers tapped against the book spine resting on his chest, the motion twitchy.

He exhaled through his nose—sharp, like he was trying to keep it together—and finally set the book aside. His movements were precise, controlled, but there’s no hiding the faint flush creeping over his neck or the way the corner of his mouth twitched.

You knew you got him. He tried, and failed, to mask his irritation and it was almost unfair how easy he was to rile up. Almost

He let a long silence settle, the weight of his gaze pressing into you. Finally: “…You taking the piss?”

You let the grin spread across your face this time, sitting up slightly so your chin props on your hands. "M'as serious as the plague, Lupin."

The staring match that followed was something out of a duel, the cogs in his mind clearly spinning. The tension stretched taut between you, thick as smoke, neither of you daring to blink.

His book stayed in his hand for a moment longer, though you saw the exact second he gave up pretending to read. Then, to your satisfaction, he closed his book with an audible thud and set it aside. He shifted, sitting up and leaning forward. He crossed his arms over his broad chest, the muscles in his forearms flexing with the movement, and your stomach twisted—just a smidge.

"Go get your books," he said, his voice low and challenging, sending electricity up your spine. "And meet me in the library."

“Oooh, someone's touchy," you said, walking your fingers up his thigh, muscles tensing under your touch. “Formal battlegrounds now, is it? Bold move, Rem. I thought you liked keeping your humiliations private. But if losing in public gets your rocks off, who am I to deny you?"

His lips twitched—an almost-smile that was gone too fast to catch properly. “I’ll be the one handing out the humiliation, thanks.”

"Stakes?" you asked, cocking your head.

"Loser buys the winner chocolate frogs for a week," he said, already swinging his legs off the bed. Then, after a pause, he glanced over his shoulder, smirking faintly. "Or…whatever else I decide."

You pushed yourself up with a wicked grin that matched his, already moving toward the door. “Alright, but don’t be mad when you’re the one giving in first. I know you can’t resist me for long.”

Behind you, you heard him huff a laugh, though it sounded like he was trying to hide it. “Get your books, trouble. Let’s see how well you actually handle restraint.”

You were confident by the end of this week you'd overdose on chocolate frogs. Remus might be brilliant and disciplined, but he’s not immune to distraction. Especially distraction in the form of his wickedly beautiful girlfriend.

Truthfully, it was daft of you to assume Remus would play fair. You mix two people who are as competitive as they are horny and it leads you here, on your boyfriend's lap, surely dripping onto the wooden bench under you.

He hums as if he's thinking over the definition of cheating and if what he's doing right now counts as it—which it does.

"S'that right?" He mumbles into your neck and you almost reach for your wand, honest, "I don't see any cheating here, love. Just good old fashioned studying, just like you wanted."

He thrusts up, and your hand flies up to cover your mouth. You see his quill moving out of the corner of your eye without the aid of a hand. "Cheater," you pant, but don't move to stop him or even continue writing your essay. You allow yourself to enjoy the slow, steady rock of his hips against yours—only for a moment. Every vein and ridge dragging against your hypersensitive walls.

You go to reach back—for support, for a futile attempt at stopping the way he rocks into you, feeling as inevitable as the ticking of time—with your other hand, but are stopped by the quill in your hand. You're reminded, there and then, that winning over Remus is almost, if not just as satisfactory as a hard won orgasim.

You put quill to ink pot, and then, quill to parchment. Remus curses behind you but doesn't stop. Not with you panting and whining behind gritted teeth. Not with you clenching around him like a Grindylow's spindly fingers, tightening with a merciless grip. He doesn’t stop until the familiar voice of his mates cuts through the fog.

"There you two are. Should've known you'd be held up in here weeks before your assignment is done. On a weekend at that—" Sirius trails off as he and James discover the little nook you and Remus have secluded yourselves too, as well as the...odd position you find yourselves in.

It's not that he's never seen you two be affectionate, especially nearing the full moon as it is, but you in Remus's lap like this, a flustered look on your face, well, he's not a dumbass. Something out of the ordinary is happening here.

James on the other hand is none the wiser, brows furrowing in self righteous disappointment.

"We've been looking for you two everywhere. Party's not that far off, you know the turn out will be lethal even if we lost the match to those snakes." There was a foul that should've been called, but wasn't, a sligh that the refs didn't catch. In traditional Gryffindor fashion, they didn't whine about a rematch or about the unfairness of it, and in typical Slytherin fashion, they didn't either. But they needed you two to help set up certain spells only you two knew because, well, you created them. Definitely not because they liked watching the way their best mate's girl stretched and bent as she set up in the Gryffindor commons.

"We know," Remus says, glancing up at the boys before looking back to one of the open textbooks. "The plan's to party the weekend away, yeah? It's why we're getting the assignment out of the way. Sooner you let us finish this," he's slowly sliding his hands up from your knees to your hips, pushing you down with such strength that your stomach clenches, "sooner we can help."

"It's...it's just an essay, Sirius. We'll be done before the Hufflepuffs start," you almost bite your tongue mid-sentence when Remus ghosts a callused finger over your aching clit, playing it off as a hiccup, "bringing the snacks.

Neither of you say anything more as you have a sneaking suspicion that they're going to catch on, chances of you opening your mouth to speak only for a moan to tumble out are high. Remus is quiet because he hopes they do figure it out, either from the audible wetness of your cunt or your eyes rolling back as he makes you cum.

Remus knows they're in love with you and have been since third and fourth year. He's tempted to invite them a glimpse under the table so they can see how he has you stretched around his cock, squirming and wanton. What better way of making sure they know you're his?

And from the way Sirius looks the two of you over, glances down at the table, and raises his perfectly sculpted brows as James begins to ramble at you, there’s no mistaking that Sirius knows. Of course he does. Sirius always knows. His stormy eyes flick down again—deliberate, calculating—as if he’s debating whether or not to call you out. He hums, low and thoughtful, as if weighing the satisfaction of saying something versus letting the moment play out. Instead, he smirks faintly and leans against a nearby bookcase, letting James’s oblivious chatter fill the space.

Remus holds his gaze, unflinching, daring him to say a word. For a brief, reckless moment, he considers sliding his chair back just enough to let Sirius catch a glimpse of how thoroughly he has you. The thought makes his cock twitch inside you, and from the way Sirius’s smirk curves a fraction higher, it’s almost like he knows that, too.

Remus doesn’t full-on smirk when they lock eyes, but it’s a close thing.

"…Right.” Sirius tilts his head slightly, his sharp grey eyes dragging over the two of you like he’s piecing together a puzzle he’s already solved. His gaze flicks down to the table again—just briefly—and then back up to meet yours. The corner of his mouth twitches, not quite a smirk, but close enough to make your stomach drop. “You know, you two really are awful at being subtle.”

Your heart skips a beat, heat rushing to your face as you open your mouth to protest—except Sirius doesn’t give you the chance. He hums thoughtfully, his gaze flicking to Remus, and then back to you, like he’s enjoying the power of watching you squirm. “But don’t think being pretty gets you out of work,” he adds smoothly, leaning in to knock his knuckle against the table. “You’ve got until ten on the dot before I come back and drag you out of here myself.”

James, oblivious as ever, snorts and waves Sirius off. “Don’t listen to him, he’s just mad because we need you for the setup,” he says, rolling his eyes. He jabs a thumb at Sirius, then gestures toward the door. “I told him you’re probably in here studying, because what else would you two be doing on a Friday night?”

Sirius hums again, a low, knowing sound, his gaze locking with Remus’s in a silent challenge. The corner of his mouth curves, just enough for you to wonder if he’s going to say something more—something that will make it impossible to deny that he knows exactly what’s happening beneath the table.

But instead, he lets out a soft laugh, straightening from the bookcase. “Sure,” he drawls, his voice dripping with amusement. “Studying.” His eyes grow bigger as he says it to emphasis just how little he believes that rubbage excuse.

He casts one last look over the two of you, smirking faintly, before turning to leave, James already rambling on about the next Quidditch match as they disappear into the corridor. Relief floods your chest for all of three seconds—before Remus tilts his hips just so, dragging another whimper from you as his cock presses deeper.

You bite your cheek, barely able to return James's wave goodbye before you're digging your nails into Remus's thighs. The same thighs that are currently spreading yours apart. Your skirt rides up, exposing you to the air and his sly hands.

"This," your hips twitch against his as he traces feather-light fingers over your puffy lips, swollen with need. You bite back a whine, huffing harshly through your nose as those fingers move down where the base of his cock sits snugly in you, tubbing slick where you and he are connected. "This is how you're cheating."

"If you're so much better than me, you should be able to focus, no problem, right?" He has an arm wrapped around your waist again, the other flipping pages.

"Fine." If that's how he wants to play, then you are more than game. You lean forward, elbows on the table as you grind your hips back and forth, barely raising off of him before coming back down with your fluttering warmth squeezing around him. "Focus, Lupin. Or, mh, at least try."

"Shhhit. D-dearest, that's not—" he cuts himself off with a truly shameless moan, both hands gripping your waist. He doesn't stop you, no, wouldn't dream of it. Instead, he helps you balance as you move faster, busy chasing your high more than you're focused on sabotaging Remus. "You, your—Merlin, you're bloody brilliant."

At this point, you don't know what'll come first: you, Remus, or Sirius's wrath.

#3d wifey answers #remus x reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #mauraders #marauders x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin smut #poly!marauders x reader #harry potter #sirius black #james potter

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hannieoftheyear · 2 months ago

Text

CLARITY [K.MG]

Mingyu doesn't want to pay you any mind. To him, you're just another girl that'll get her heart broken by his dumb best friend.

Why would he care, right? He shouldn't care about the crying sounds he hears from his bedroom when his friend stands you up for the girl he's actually in love with. And he shouldn't be getting close to you. He shouldn't dread the day his friend decides to end things with you and bring someone else home. He shouldn't be wishing to have met you first.

pairing: mingyu x f!reader (with a side of bad bf!jungkook)

word count: 30,2k (lmaooo)

genre: bf's best friend mingyu, (awkward) acquaintances to lovers, the other side of the f2l trope, angst, smut, you could say there's a drizzle of fluff

content warnings: emotional cheating, tsundere mingyu at first, too much crying, self-manipulating, moral dilemmas, jealousy, possessiveness, alcohol consumption, denial (tons), one minor injury, mention of blood, a love triangle?, sexual tension, inappropriate things happen between mc and mingyu, petnames: babe, baby, princess (hers) | explicit smut, teasing, body worship, praise, marking, protected penetration, it's love making guys

🎧: mine — ive, breathing — nct dream, knew you — kailee morgue, begin again (taylor's version) — taylor swift, i wanna tell u — lexie liu

a big thank you to tiya @gyubakeries and ro @shinysobi for reading this over and telling me it doesn't suck ♡ and rae @nerdycheol for supporting my simp and pathetic men agenda ♡

THIS FIC IS FOR +18 READERS ONLY! I can't control what people read, but I can control who interacts with my blog. MINORS CAUGHT INTERACTING WILL BE BLOCKED.

disclaimer: i didn't want to make any svt member the asshole so i made him jungkook, but i love jungkook he's literally my bias in bts and my forever ult so please just remember that this is a work of fiction and it doesn't represent how he is in real life nor how i view him (it pained me writing him this way you have no idea kdjfgnrjeskgf). i also didn't proofread the last two scenes i¿m sawrry

last note: there are several pov switches throughout the whole fic, because it just went where it wanted, I had no control over it, it was the fic i swear.

check out my main masterlist ♡ dividers used: heartbeat, paper texture (banner)

i hope you enjoy! i'd love to read your thoughts :)

“Are you sure I won’t bother him?"

You’ve blocked Jungkook’s hand from opening the door to his shared apartment, forcing him to look at your pleading eyes.

“Babe, it’s not the first time you’ve come to watch a movie, he doesn’t mind, stop worrying.”

“It’s just... he always locks himself up in his room when I come over. Maybe he doesn’t want to get to know me.” You whisper, in fear the door doesn’t muffle the sounds from outside and he’s standing just by the entrance.

The few times you’ve crossed paths with your boyfriend’s roommate, he barely said hi before sprinting out of whatever room you were in. Sure, your relationship with Jungkook is fairly new, and you don’t expect to become friendly with his circle of friends so quickly. But if his closest friend won’t pay you any mind then how are you supposed to get along?

“He does that to give us privacy, I promise it has nothing to do with you.” Jungkook doesn’t notice the coldness you're sure his friend exhibits towards you, as he has been that way every time he brought a new girl to their home. Jungkook attributes it to his friend simply giving him some space, to not make everything awkward by being the third wheel. “He wanted to watch a movie, and he said it was cool when I told him you were coming over.”

A deep breath leaves your lungs at his confirmation, even if it’s already the tenth time you’ve asked the same question and got the same answer.

Inside the apartment, Mingyu sits manspreading on the couch, phone in his hand and headphones at the maximum not-deafening volume. Jungkook’s still in his fairytale phase, that time at the beginning of a relationship when he still tries to introduce his new partner to aspects of his life, in which Mingyu is included. That’s the only reason he accepted his friend’s insistent plea to hang out with you both tonight. And when a hand shakes his shoulder lightly, he knows it’s his Jungkook with his new catch of the semester.

You sit on the other end of the couch, as far as possible from Mingyu’s motionless body, still unsure on where you stand with him. Neither of you make the effort to talk to the other while Jungkook goes to his bedroom to change. You don’t want to bother him and make him have a reason to dislike you, and Mingyu notices your nervousness, but prefers not to do anything about it.

Mingyu has learned to not try hard to get to know Jungkook’s fleeting girlfriends, because no matter how nice or how pretty you are, in a matter of weeks, he knows his friend will find something to complain about and eventually use as an excuse to break things off. It’s a never-ending cycle, and he learned he can’t do anything to stop it.

“What are we watching?”

Jungkook’s loud voice breaks the ice beginning to build up in the living room, and quickly sits down between Mingyu and you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. He doesn’t seem to notice the ignoring contest going on, chatting with Mingyu like the other man wasn’t just dead silent.

After discovering you’ve never seen Rocky, a few gasps from Jungkook and a lot of convincing later, the movie starts playing on the screen in front of you. You didn’t actually care what they chose, just happy to spend some time with your boyfriend, even if you’re not alone.

Mingyu knows the movie from beginning to end and backwards, could even recite the dialogues if asked, not because he particularly likes it, but because Jungkook somehow always convinces the girls he brings to their home to endure it.

He used to argue with him about the reputation he built of being a heartbreaker, but Jungkook doesn’t see it that way. To him, he’s just trying to find the one in an endless quest that never fulfills him the way he thinks a relationship should. But Mingyu knows Jungkook well, and the real reason why he can’t last in a relationship for longer than a few months is clear as day, but Jungkook’s blind to it.

You pretend to focus on the storyline, Rocky’s growth journey that Jungkook was so excited about, while he comments on his favorite parts. It’s not a movie you’d pick if you were alone or with your friends, too manly for your taste, and the romance aspect is too shallow, but Jungkook’s perspective and insightful comments are making you appreciate it more.

Tears begin forming on the corners of your eyes as the final fight progresses, your throat closing up in warning as the rounds pass and Rocky gets beaten up by his opponent. No matter the genre, movies always make you cry during the final act as the protagonist reaches the goal after struggling so much.

After the referee separates both opponents, tying at the 14th round, the public demands a rematch, but Rocky’s more preoccupied to look for the woman he loves. You try to sniffle quietly, no longer being able to put a stop to your weeping, and snuggle against Jungkook’s chest, just as his phone rings, receiving a call from Cathlyn.

From the corner of his eye, Mingyu notices the whole interaction, and he almost gets shocked by Jungkook blankly rejecting the call in an instant and putting his attention back on the screen. How didn’t Jungkook notice you’ve been loudly sobbing for the past fifteen minutes is beyond him. But the shock lasts less than two seconds, as Jungkook's phone rings again and he gets up from the couch, heading to the kitchen with his phone in his hand and his thumb already opening Cathlyn’s text conversation.

You know Cathlyn has been your boyfriend’s best friend since high-school, and became inseparable since then. You even came to meet her a few times. She’s funny, nice and outgoing, effortlessly being the center of attention.

The living room gets cold again after Jungkook goes to the other room, and it’s too obvious that Mingyu just doesn’t have any interest in engaging in small talk with you. Your last sniffles echo against the walls, and the sigh Mingyu lets out almost sounds louder in the sea of dense silence.

Another sniffle from you and a tired sigh from him, Mingyu gets up to go after his friend who doesn’t seem to be coming back to the couch soon enough. He leaves a pack of tissues in front of you without sparing you a glance, and just walks past the couch.

"Dude, don’t just leave me alone with her.” You don’t mean to eavesdrop on their conversation. You really don’t. But the sound carries. And it just proves that Mingyu clearly doesn’t like you. “She’s your date, not mine.”

“Sorry bro, Cathy was calling me nonstop. I thought something had happened.” Not necessarily true, as she called only once and Mingyu's aware of it. “She wants to go out tonight, clear her head a bit.”

“I don’t care what Cathlyn wants. Your girlfriend was crying and you just left her there.” It’s almost like he was defending you, but something in his tone suggests that it isn’t about you specifically. You blow your nose one more time, and the sound echoes into the kitchen. “Listen, she’s still crying like a baby, go with her bro.”

Last words you hear before heavy steps begin and get closer and closer to the living room couch until the man sits by your side.

“Sorry babe, I know movies always get you emotional.” Jungkook apologizes sweetly, even if there’s something else in his mind.

“It’s okay.” The sun setting behind the windows draws your attention away from your boyfriend. “I should get going. It’s getting late and I promised my roommate we’d go out for dinner.”

Lame excuse, but you’re aware you’re not wanted at the apartment anymore by half the people living under that roof, and it really is too late.

Jungkook nods, unbeknownst to the uncomfortable situation he's a part of, and grabs your coat as you get up from the couch. You turn back, smiling to Mingyu coming out of the kitchen as a form of goodbye, but he just nods and sits back down.

“We're going out later, and Cathy’s paying, you wanna come? It’s a bar close to here.” Jungkook naively asks as he walks you to the door. He might be genuine with his invitation, but you’re not sure.

“I told you I have an important meeting for the congress tomorrow morning, I can't go out."

Jungkook hasn’t proven himself as someone with the best memory out there. You’ve had to remind him of important stuff a few times already. The key is to just take a deep breath and not let it stir up any anger within you, because that’s just how he is.

“Oh, I thought it was on Sunday.” Jungkook asks just as Mingyu walks past the end of the hallway into his bedroom and shuts the door.

Even he knows about your meeting, because you told Jungkook last time you were there, and even if he locks himself up in his room, the walls might as well be made of paper the way he can always hear your conversations.

“Tomorrow is Sunday.” You note as you chuckle lightly.

“Oh, shit. Then I guess I’ll see you when you're done.” He gives you a sweet kiss for the first time in the day, light and fleeting like a feather, and closes the door after you take a few steps towards the elevator.

Nayeon closes her macbook suddenly, done with all the work you have been doing since the early morning, ready to take a deserved break. “So? How was the hot date last night?” She rests her chin on the palm of her hand, ready for whatever gossip you’re willing to share.

“It wasn't hot.” Your eyes don’t leave your notebook, in an intent to work on ideas to make the presentation more interesting.

“You’re so secretive! C’mon, tell your best friends forever and ever what you did!” She insists, making you chuckle as you see your other friend mirroring her from the corner of your eye.

Your pen drops from your hand onto the table as you finally look at them. “It was just a movie night with his asshole roommate.”

“The hot one?” Jennie intercepts, now more interested than before.

“I don't know Jen, his only roommate.” You try to go back to your notes but your friends’ unrelenting stares make it impossible to concentrate. “And how do you even know him? I’d never seen him before meeting Jungkook.”

“It’s ‘cause you’re too cool for campus gossip,” Jennie takes the chance to poke fun at your lack of knowledge of basically anyone, “but everyone knows Jungkook and Mingyu.” They both giggle at their mention.

“Be serious, we're not in high school.” You deadpan, but deep down you know nothing really changes from high-school to college. The drama remains the same, just with a few years added to the people involved. “There’s no such thing as the popular guys.”

When you were younger, the different cliques that formed were crucial to what the experience was going to be for the years to come. And you used to live for the gossip. You always knew the latest fight or the newest couple before anyone else. It felt important at that time and it kept you entertained. But as you grew older, got into college and met new people, meaningless gossip lost its interest, your focus now on passing your classes, meeting new friends, and having the best contacts to move forward with your career.

Sure, you knew of a Jungkook, as your best friends are up to date with the gossip and like it or not, you end up hearing everything even if you don’t know the people they’re talking about. But before he approached you at a party, you had no real idea who he was. It’s true that when you first saw your boyfriend at that party, he caught your attention immediately, and it’s undeniable that if you had seen him before, you would’ve been caught in his spell like every other girl on campus.

“What I mean is that people take notice when two hot guys hang out everyday.” Nayeon points it out like it’s the most common thing in the world. And maybe it is. “They’re like candy to the eye, too sweet, unapproachable, but nice to see nevertheless.”

You don’t forget to roll your eyes before replying. “Mingyu’s still an asshole. He never talks to me! I’m sure he curses at me in his head every time I show up at their apartment.”

“He seems so serious all the time.” Nayeon adds, having your back. “He’s probably a stem major or something like that.”

“He’s always hunched over his computer, so he probably is.” You note, eyes returning to your notebook so you can keep working on the presentation and be done with the topic.

“I once tried talking to him at a party, but he just looked me dead in the eye and said he wasn’t interested.” Jennie’s stare gets lost to the view out the window as she remembers. “I barely told him my name.”

Nayeon and you exchange looks before erupting into laughter.

“You guys are so mean!” Jennie complains, but joins to laugh with you two.

“Hey, at least he had the decency to tell you that and not lead you on.” Jennie shrugs, not really hurt as she has already forgotten that cursed interaction. “He barely says hi to me before sprinting out of my sight.”

“He doesn’t really talk to many people except that group of friends they have. It’s not personal, he's just a little anti-social.” Nayeon puts her two cents in. “Just let him be an asshole if he wants to be one!”

“I shouldn’t let him occupy that much space in my mind.” You nod at them and they both nod back in agreement. “I’m dating his best friend, he’s going to have to accept it.”

Nayeon and Jennie exchange looks, raising their eyebrows at your words before going back to you.

You have a vague idea what they meant by that, but you still ask, incredulously. “What?”

“Nothing!” They say in unison.

They tried several times to enlighten you about Jungkook’s “reputation”, as they called it, but you prefer to get to know him on your own and not have your judgement clouded beforehand. Rumors are just that, rumors.

“Look,” with your hands slapped on the table, you order their attention, “I know you guys don’t really like that I’m dating him,” you observe, “but I promise, It’s fine! He’s really nice and I think he really likes me.”

“It’s not that.” Jennie says at the same time as Nayeon exclaims, “I’m sure he does!”

“We already told you, he usually dates for a few months before breaking up all of the sudden.” Jennie continues, paraphrasing every warning they already gave you. “We’ll have your back with whatever you want to do, just be careful.”

“I won’t let a tattooed man who I've only been dating for a couple of weeks break my heart.” At least you think you're stronger than that.

“Am I an asshole if I tell you to just not get your hopes up?” Nayeon asks, and if it was any other person, you'd get mad, but only because it's her and she just lacks tact sometimes, you let it slide.

“Yes! You are!” You chuckle, knowing she’s just looking out for you. “Thank you guys for worrying about me. Now, I think we should shorten the introduction a little bit. Everyone there already knows who Durkheim is, we don't need to explain his whole biography.”

The notes you've been taking all day stare back at you, now more of a bunch of senseless scribbles than useful annotations.

“Ugh! Back to work already?” Jennie’s body falls limp on her chair, not ready for more hours of brainstorming and not reaching any goals.

“The professor wants to hear the whole thing tomorrow, we can't show up with anything less than a perfect speech.” You insist, opening Nayeon's macbook again against her will.

“Do you promise to tell us any good gossip about those friends of his, in about…” she looks at her empty wrist, pretending there's a watch there, “two hours? We'll work diligently until then.”

A deep sigh leaves you with a barely there smile you try to hide. “Fine. Two hours, and then we can take a real break.”

The waitress carries two pieces of cake and the biggest strawberry smoothie you’ve ever seen in your life, heading to your table. The size of the cup brings out chuckles from both Jungkook and you, but as soon as it gets placed between you on the table, the two straws draw your attention, and Jungkook asks the waitress for another smaller chocolate smoothie.

“You can have that all for yourself babe, I know how much you love strawberries.”

You don’t admit that you were excited for the corny romantic moment of sharing a smoothie with two straws, appreciating that he at least remembered your love for berries.

Jungkook’s phone keeps vibrating with notifications, which he reads but doesn’t respond to, trying his best to focus on whatever you’re telling him. His mind is anywhere but the diner where you decided to have an afternoon snack, battling between answering Cathlyn’s worrying texts and listening to the ideas you gave for the presentation you’re doing with your friends in front of various colleges soon.

In the middle of your story is when you realize Jungkook hasn’t said a word, his eyes lost to the much more interesting brown swirls on the wooden table.

“Is everything okay?” He’s been noticeably distracted lately, getting lost in thought more often, taking longer to reply to your texts. You attribute it to the time of the year, as he’s busier at work and with his studies, and so are you. But even if he says he’s fine, you’re beginning to worry.

“Yeah babe, sorry, just a little tired.” His lips line up in a tight smile in an attempt to reassure you. “Do you mind hanging out at my apartment after we’re done eating?”

Scraping your plans to catch an afternoon movie, you hum and nod before returning to eating your piece of cake, seemingly disguising your disappointment since he doesn’t ask any more questions.

Jungkook leaves his plate exactly the way the server left it for him, the piece of chocolate cake with not even a particle less, his fork unused and clean on the side. He gulps down his new personal smoothie in a second, and as soon as the last piece of your cake is entering your mouth, he’s asking the waitress for the bill. He knows you’re still talking to him, he can see your lips moving, but your words enter one ear and leave through the other, having no meaning in his mind.

Jungkook pays without asking for your share, which you weren’t even going to argue with him about. You’re usually a heavy supporter of each person paying for what they ordered, but as the minutes pass by, it’s becoming harder and harder to not get mad at him, so you’re going to spend his money without feeling bad about it. You know you should ask him about it, but shouldn’t he tell you if something was wrong? Especially after you’ve already asked him? Between being a pushover and pretending nothing’s happening, you end up choosing to just spend the rest of the afternoon with him and hope he’ll just tell you the truth.

The walk to his apartment is less than 10 minutes long, but every dreaded step drags heavily, making everything move slower, with the both of you in silence, and the incessant notifications blowing up his phone acting as a remainder of his true priority.

Jungkook’s trying to ignore the constant ping coming out of the pocket of his jeans, pretending he isn’t dying to just answer who keeps trying to contact him.

And you have a vague idea of who it could possibly be.

The cold apartment doesn’t feel welcoming as you enter through the door, lights off and deadly silent. Excusing yourself to the bathroom, you tiptoe around as if in fear. Your reflection in the mirror looks unmistakably disappointed and sad, and you wonder if Jungkook really didn’t notice or just didn’t care.

He can be charming and gentle when he wants to, always so polite and respectful, but the ability to be aware of your feelings may be something he could work on. Or at least understand that the things he does ultimately affect you too.

In the kitchen, he’s already forgotten his one rule for the date, and is carefully answering every message he got, the glasses of water he was filling for the both of you forgotten on the counter.

When he hears you come out to the living room, Jungkook rushes to sit with you, with a plan already in mind.

“Babe, will you get mad if I go for a bit?” His fingers trace lines on your forearm, and you begin to lean into him before your brain registers his words.

“What? Why?” You ask as your eyes search for any type of clue on his face.

“Cathy called me,” he takes a second to think about the best words to use, “she had a fight with her boyfriend, and I have to be there for her.”

Jungkook never liked Cathlyn's boyfriends. Something about them always feels off about them, as if none of them are ever right for his best friend. In his eyes, he just wants the best for her, someone who'll really be able to care for Cathlyn in the way he thinks she deserves.

“Oh, I hope she’s okay.” Deep down, you wonder if it really is so serious that Jungkook feels obligated to stand you up. But it’s fair, she needs her best friend when she’s having a bad time. The fact that her best friend is your boyfriend is a coincidence you can’t be mad about.

“I’ll be back before dinner and I’ll make it up to you, okay?” He’s already standing up, his arms on both of your sides as he crouches to give you a quick peck goodbye.

The door closes shut before you can even utter a reply, and his steps echo on the hallway, getting further away every second, until you’re left in complete silence.

In the quietness of the apartment, you instantly feel out of place, unwelcomed by the inanimate objects surrounding you. Seconds turn into minutes, the ticking of the clock being the only sense of time you have left. You don’t want to grab your phone, avoiding the inevitable feeling of disappointment that’ll take over you if there are no texts from Jungkook waiting in your notifications.

How stupid is what you’re doing? How desperate? Waiting for your boyfriend to come back from the home of the woman that seems to be his priority? You know you shouldn’t be feeling this way, especially since he's already told you that she’s just his best friend. But it’s still hard.

The back of your eyes burn as tears threaten to come out, blurring your vision just as you hear a key turn, heavy steps entering the home you’re not supposed to be in.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

Mingyu knew he'd find you at his apartment.

Jungkook texted him that he had an emergency and had to leave in a rush. And Mingyu knows what “emergency” really means in that context. It means Jungkook rushed over to Cathlyn's at the first sign that she was feeling off, and he wanted to hide it from him so he wouldn’t have to hear the same reprimand again.

What Mingyu didn’t expect was to find you on the verge of crying on his couch, scattering to find any form of tissue paper somewhere inside your bag.

You both freeze, looking at each other for about half a second before rushing to greet. You pretend you weren’t crying, and he acts as if he didn’t notice. Mingyu utters a quiet hello as you mumble some kind of apology for being there, and then he locks up in his bedroom as usual.

His friend put him in an awkward situation once again. Mingyu doesn’t want to get to know you more than he already does. He knows you're on a different major and that’s enough, because one day, in the near future, it’s going to be another girl walking through the door instead of you, and he’ll never see you again.

He tried a few times to stay friendly, but no one really wants to stay in contact with someone so close to the man that broke their heart. And he gets it. That's why he stopped trying all together.

Mingyu would usually come home from work, put on his headphones, and spend a few hours on his computer until his stomach urges him to eat something. But for this particular afternoon he’s been put in, he skips the headphones in case you need something, or at least until Jungkook comes back, which he isn’t even sure is going to happen.

A project for work distracts him for a good while, organizing different stats and numbers on the excel sheet his boss sent him earlier in the day. He almost forgets you’re on the other side of the wall. Almost.

If he loses his focus on his computer screen, he can hear when you move around on the couch. What can you possibly be doing? Is what he asks himself at any noise that reaches his ears, but there’s never an answer. Until something alerts him that you’re not doing well. The same sniffle he heard days ago as you were watching a movie with Jungkook echoes against the walls of his bedroom.

You’ve been trying hard not to make any sounds that may disturb Mingyu, as you assumed he was busy by the way you could hear the non-stop clicking of his keyboard from where you were sitting. But your mind seemed to have other plans, so much so that you lost control of the cascade of tears brimming from your eyes.

In between everything, you miss the sound of a door opening and steps getting closer to you. Mingyu comes into view as you’re wiping away tears with the back of your hand, and you can’t pretend he didn’t see you this time.

He sits by your side in silence, mainly because he doesn’t know what to say, but also because he can’t just leave you alone in this state. He feels responsible in a way.

“Is he with…” Are the first words that come out of his mouth after seconds of dead silence.

“He didn’t tell you?” You look up at him to find him staring into the wall. He shakes his head, glancing at your slightly blotchy face before looking down.

“He just told me you'd be here, but I figured.” Your body relaxes the tiniest bit. Good, at least you’re not an unannounced guest.

“She had a fight with her boyfriend.” You explain, more frustrated than understanding.

“Right.” He simply replies.

Both of you sit there, fixed on your spots, too aware of the other. Mingyu realizes you’ve stopped crying, maybe because you don’t want to cry in front of him, but at least your breaths became less deep than before.

A growl from your stomach reverberates through the room, and you flush in embarrassment.

“You can–” he coughs before continuing, “you’re here often, you can help yourself if you’re hungry, it’s no big deal.”

“Oh, thank you,” you chuckle, trying to conceal the humiliation, “but he said he didn’t have anything. That’s why we went out. And I can’t really cook, so.”

Never in the past weeks would you have thought you’d be sharing embarrassing details about you with your boyfriend’s cold roommate, but life has a funny way of turning things around.

“I’m sure that’s not true. There’s no way you can’t do the basics.” His body turns, now facing you as he takes an interest in your not so fun fact.

“I’m not lying! I can’t even make scrambled eggs.” You hide your face behind your hands, and you immediately hear Mingyu laughing as the dent beside you on the couch disappears.

“C’mon, I’ll teach you. I happen to be a great cook.” Your stomach growls again, and Mingyu looks back at you as he walks towards his kitchen, leaving you no choice but to follow him.

Mingyu’s not thinking about this exchange with you too much.

Yes, he’s doing exactly what he promised himself he wouldn’t, as this will inevitably make you both closer and he will not be able to turn back to his cold self again. But he couldn’t just go on with his day knowing you were having a bad one, and even worse, knowing you were crying because of his friend.

He had to do something, and if that something is becoming your friend for the afternoon, then so be it.

“Grab the egg carton with his name on it.” You chuckle as you follow his instructions, “and his milk too, why not.” If he left you stranded, the least you can do to get back at him is use his stuff and not Mingyu’s.

Between laughs and Mingyu indicating instructions like he was teaching a 5-year-old to cook, time passes, you forget why you were at the apartment in the first place, and you end up with a fine plate of scrambled eggs that doesn't taste bad at all.

“I told you it wasn’t that hard.” Mingyu sits in front of you on the rounded table as you share the food.

“Well, I’ll let you know if your teaching lasts until I have to cook alone.” You chuckle and avoid his stare, realizing your words sounded much friendlier than you intended.

Back in the living room, Mingyu’s ringtone disrupts your conversation, and his sigh alerts you that he might already know who’s calling. He gets up with another sigh, throwing you a knowing look before going to answer Jungkook’s call.

You appreciate his effort to make you feel better, and when he doesn’t ask Jungkook any questions over the phone, only replying with yeahs and okays to whatever he’s telling him, you understand that Jungkook’s not coming back, and whatever he’s telling Mingyu will just make you feel worse.

Before Mingyu comes back, you do the dishes that you used and get your stuff together. The decision to leave has already been made.

“Leaving already?” He appears at the entrance to the kitchen, leaning on the edge of the door like a statue.

“I know he’s not coming back. I’m sorry, I should’ve left earlier, I didn’t mean to be a bother.” It’s the first time you’ve addressed that feeling you have that you constantly bother him, and it’s kind of freeing.

“You’re not a bother.” A man of few words, Mingyu feels like he meant a lot more with that simple statement than just dismissing your apology.

His blank reply doesn’t feel forced, not like he only said what you wanted to hear. No. He said it automatically, not thinking much about it, and it took a heavy load off your shoulders.

“Still, I should–” You’re now standing right in front of him, looking up at his face as he doesn’t realize he’s in your way.

“Right, sorry.” Mingyu rushes to get out of your way, stumbling against his own feet as he walks backwards to go get his keys. “Do you need a ride? I could–”

“Oh, thank you, but it’s okay. I’m meeting a friend at a restaurant close by.” A warmness spreads on your cheeks at his offer. “Do you happen to know which way to go? It’s supposed to be a few blocks from here.”

To redirect his attention away from you, you show him the address of the restaurant on your phone screen. You frequent the neighborhood on a weekly basis, but the blocks tend to mix up, as the buildings look too similar to each other. Mingyu scratches the back of his neck, trying to remember the names of the streets around his place.

“I think it’s three blocks to the right, and then two to the left.” He doesn’t sound very convinced, but you trust you’d be able to tell if he’s sending you the wrong way, so you take his word.

Even after denying him, Mingyu still accompanies you downstairs, and you politely say goodbye to each other at the entrance before separating.

The sun sets on the horizon, the golden hue painting the streets beautifully as you walk. ‘Third block to the right, then turn left,’ you mentally repeat, trying to concentrate on the directions as well as you try to find a street sign that'll tell you if you’re going the right way.

As you reach the second block to the left, where Mingyu implied the restaurant should be at, your phone vibrates inside your purse. The unknown caller doesn’t give up while you contemplate whether to pick up or let it go to voice-mail, but something in the back of your mind urges you to answer. So you do.

“Who is this?” In case that another telemarketer got a hold of your phone number, you try to sound annoyed.

“It’s Mingyu, sorry,” his deep voice sounds the tiniest bit robotic due to the poor service, “I realized I sent you the wrong way. You have to turn right instead of left.”

“Oh,” you chuckle as your eyes read the street number you’re at, “thank you.” You don’t tell him you could’ve figured it out on your own, a tiny smile appearing on your face at his gesture.

“I should’ve warned you that I’m terrible with directions.” His breathy chuckle reaches your ear at the same time as a metal ruffling sound. Was he heading out to find you in case you didn’t pick up?

“No worries.” Your mind is blank, as the two things you’re most awkward at doing are getting combined in one: phone calls and talking to Mingyu. “How did you get my number?”

“I asked Jungkook for it just now.” That feels weird for some reason, but you toss that feeling away, trying not to overthink about it. “You okay?”

“Yep! Heading that way now! Thank you! Bye.” You abruptly hang up on him, the only way you thought to end the awkward conversation.

Your heart rate escalates, pumping hard like it’s about to beat out of your chest as you go the correct way now. Whatever you do, your mind still manages to replay what just happened over and over again, until you’re standing in front of the restaurant hostess.

Walking towards the table you see Nayeon sitting at, the idea of Mingyu having your number saved makes the back of your neck tingle with nervousness, and you can't shake the feeling even as you greet your friend and she starts telling you about her day.

Maybe you’re giving it way too much thought. It’s just the excitement of finally feeling like you’re growing closer to your boyfriend’s friends. Nothing more.

There's been a noticeable shift in the awkwardness of your “friendship" with Mingyu. You didn’t become best friends overnight, but at least he stopped fleeting away from you anytime you'd be over at their apartment, and wouldn’t deliberately choose the spot furthest from you at any group gathering.

As you and Jungkook step out of his car and walk over to the front door for the costume party a classmate of his was throwing, you can only take a deep breath and hope your extroverted self appears after a few drinks, and that Mingyu doesn’t decide he hates you again, because he’ll be the only other person you know at the party.

Not much of a partier yourself, you’re just trying, for him. Trying to join your boyfriend in what he likes, especially after he showed interest in you being there with him by inviting you.

The loud music can be heard even with the door closed, and Jungkook texts his friend to come pick them up, because ringing the bell clearly won’t do anything.

“Hi man! Sorry for making you both wait.” A tall blonde man who you’re sure is named Jackson welcomes you in, giving Jungkook a man hug before looking you up and down and asking. “What did you guys come as?”

“I’m a firefighter dude! And she’s...” Jungkook looks at you waiting for your answer, not even trying to remember the name of the character you’re dressed up as.

“Mavis, from Hotel Transylvania!” You smile as Jackson finally lets you in, and you can see in his expression that he has no idea who you’re talking about when you walk past him.

As soon as you cross the door, it is a relief to find Jungkook’s whole friend group there, sitting occupying the entire couch for themselves, only one big body missing from the ensemble.

Jungkook only takes his hand off you to greet his friends one by one, and makes them promise to save you seats while you go to the kitchen to find something to drink.

It hasn’t been long since the party started, but the crowded house is already filled with that dense air mixed with the smell of sweat, and the sticky bodies make it harder for you two to advance into the kitchen.

Part of you is relieved that Mingyu’s nowhere to be seen, if he’s even at the party. Sure, you’re getting along now, but being around him is still stiff and awkward. Maybe you can use this opportunity to try and get close to Jungkook’s other friends.

Sitting between him and other two strangers that squeezed themselves on the far end of the couch, that plan is quickly scrapped. It’s possible Jungkook doesn’t realize you’re too far away to be included in any conversation, he wouldn’t do it on purpose, but you have no will to tell him. Not when his body is fully turned away from you as he talks to Cathlyn and the guy she's dating, Yugyeom.

The music's too loud for their voices to travel backwards and let you hear, but judging by Jungkook’s menacing body next to yours, he doesn't seem to be liking the conversation. He didn't talk much about Yugyeom, that name being new to you as Jungkook’s hadn't even mentioned him before. And from what you know, he and Cathlyn have been having some problems for the past few weeks, so it's normal for her best friend to dislike him.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

Mingyu thinks of himself as somewhat of a good friend. Sure, he may have some faults and he fucks up every now and then, as everyone does, but whenever his friends need him, he’s there. He covers for Jungkook at school, listens to his girl problems as any friend would do, hates whoever he hates, and he’d never break that friendship over any random girl. That said, he’s still a man, and he has eyes.

When he comes back from the patio after catching up with some old friends he bumped into, he first lays eyes on the striking yellow costume Jungkook’s wearing. But as he follows the bright color, he sees you sitting by his friend's side, his arm wrapped around you but giving you no attention as you drink from an almost empty cup.

It's no surprise to him that Jungkook's too enthusiastically talking with Cathlyn instead of any other friend, or instead of dancing and enjoying the party. What shocks Mingyu is how blatantly he’s ignoring you, sitting so pretty by his side.

Yeah, Mingyu can admit he finds you pretty. He might be a good friend, but he’s not blind, and denying it would just make him stupid. Any guy with a brain should be lining up for a chance to talk to you, getting lucky to be the ones you spare a glance to. Instead, you’re sitting with an arm around you and being ignored by its owner. It could be that he’s gulping down his fourth drink already, but he might even go as far as saying you’re his type. But that’s about as far as it could possibly go. You’re pretty, nice, and in love with his best friend. Well, maybe not in love yet, but you like him enough to put up with his shit. And Mingyu’s not interested. He can’t be.

A smile forces itself on your face as your eyes catch his across the room. The most polite way to acknowledge his presence without trying to interact with him further.

Mingyu nods your way and drives his eyes elsewhere. It’s not like he wanted you to do anything else, and even if he wanted to go up and chat with you, he couldn’t have fit in between you and the people on your other side crushing your free arm.

So, he stays there, standing against a wall on the only free hallway –in which there aren’t any people because Jackson threatened anyone who dared to step within a two feet radius of his bedroom, watching the scene progress before his eyes.

Where his friend has a reputation of being a heartthrob, a player, or a heartbreaker, Mingyu’s always thought of as Jungkook’s serious and mean friend. A bad school reputation is the least of his priorities, and he doesn’t care to change how people he doesn’t care about think of him. It’s not like he’s not enjoying the party, he just prefers to stand alone and drink. If that paints him as a boring guy, so be it. He tries scanning the room to find a friend to catch up with, but it's pointless, only the bright yellow costume makes itself visible.

It's mostly a blur of bodies messily dancing to 2000’s pop songs inside that room, but Mingyu could recognize his best friend's silhouette if he was miles away and 90% blind. Your costume contrasts with Jungkook's in a way that even drunk Mingyu realizes it’s you who's being dragged onto the “dancefloor".

He sees you get loose as his friend's hands wrap around your waist and move your bodies in sync. It seems that every single light in the house is on despite it being a party, and you’re in the center of his line of sight, constantly and too easily catching his attention.

What he doesn’t see, however, are your constant complaints about dancing, appearing as flirty whispers to anyone who wasn't listening. And after he takes his eyes off of you two to find a glass of cold water, you’re back again to your original place on the couch, this time with much more space around you.

“Not much of a dancer?” His feet directed Mingyu to where you sat almost instinctively. There’s finally room to sit down so he’s going to take the opportunity before somebody else does.

“Only when I’m in the mood.” Your stare’s lost somewhere in the room, paying attention to your drunk boyfriend dancing with his best friend.

“I see.” You both sit awkwardly, body facing front and eyes focused on the same view.

“Cool costume, by the way. I love Hotel Transylvania.” Mingyu manages to fill in the gaps of the heavy silence.

“Thank you! You’re the only one that recognized me.” A small smile appears despite your bad mood.

“People here lack basic culture.” A simple joke followed by awkward laughs from the both of you, the atmosphere doesn’t help to ease the tension of your interaction.

“I wanted Jungkook to dress up as Johnny.” You have to stretch your neck to Mingyu’s side so he can hear you above the loud music.

“That would’ve been cute.” Mingyu doesn’t know what else to say. It’s been a common occurrence for him to go blank when talking to you.

“I guess he’s not a fan of matching costumes.” You try your best to continue the conversation, not really caring whether he’s interested or not. The little alcohol in your system won’t let you fall on an awkward silence again.

“He probably got tired of them after so many years.”

You freeze.

“What do you mean?”

Mingyu realizes he just fucked up. All those drinks he had before you came, and that one after, finally brought him to the stage where his mouth gets loose and he starts blurring out things he shouldn’t.

“Uh–, I mean, Cathlyn used to force him to do it for halloween.” Force.

For the record, Mingyu's not a liar. He might be loyal to his friend, not wanting to put him in bad situations, but he’s not going to go above and beyond to protect an already weak relationship. So, he picks a word that’s going to save Jungkook’s ass, but still saying part of the truth.

“Right.” If you caught on to his deliberate choice of words, you don’t show it to him.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

It’s pointless to get mad at your boyfriend for such a meaningless piece of information. Every relationship is different, and you shouldn’t be comparing yours to a much older one. Their bond’s just different! It doesn’t have anything to do with you if Jungkook didn’t want to do stupid matching costumes.

Still, you’re glad Mingyu slipped and gave away the truth, and you appreciate his effort to make it sound less bad.

Jungkook gives you no time to ponder on what to do though, as he stumbles his way back to you, so drunk he can’t regulate his strength and falls hard on the couch.

“My heead hit the back of the c-couch with my head.” Jungkook pouts and slurs his words.

“Ow, baby, you’re really drunk.” Mingyu’s eyes pierce through your back, and a wave of self-consciousness takes over you. “Should we go home?”

Jungkook’s cheeks feel warm in your hands as you try to get him to look at you, but his drunk mind can only concentrate on one thing at a time, and for the time being, his eyes are focused on Yugyeom’s hands groping Cathlyn's ass shamelessly as they dance.

“I don’t feel so good.” He only says, his drunk stare having a hard time straying away from that scene as he gets up and stumbles his way out the house.

Mingyu runs after Jungkook just behind you, and manages to catch him before he faceplants on the damp grass outside.

“Where did we leave my car?” Jungkook asks no one in particular, disoriented from his almost-fall. “Wait, you’re not my girlfriend!” His eyes go wide as he realizes who was helping him and tries to escape.

“I’m here, babe.” Before he manages to, you wrap your arm around his other shoulder, leaving him no choice but to be embraced by yours and Mingyu’s hold so he doesn’t hurt himself again.

Now that you’re outside, with no music blasting at full volume, no people around pushing you constantly, and breathing fresh air, you’re too aware of your surroundings. Or more specifically, how Mingyu’s arm and yours touch behind Jungkook’s back.

It's a weird way to break the ice of skin to skin contact in a friendship, but maybe it’s what you need to end the lingering awkwardness that surrounds your interactions once and for all.

“I saw you drinking.” You scold Mingyu after you two lay Jungkook down on the back seat and he turns to find his way back to his car.

“I’m not drunk anymore.” He mutters just before he trips with his own foot. “Okay. I’ll crash on the back seat for a while and then I’ll go home.”

“I’ll drive you.” Mingyu's silence as he thinks of a polite way to turn your offer down only eggs you further. “I’m going there anyways.”

“I-I wouldn’t want to take advantage.” He fiddles with his keys, avoiding your eyes.

“Of what? Me? His car?” Mingyu hesitates, the gears in his brain visibly turning.

“I don’t know.” It’s quiet, his response, and no matter how cute and defenseless he looks when he’s drunk, you don’t really have time to wait.

“I’m offering.” You deadpan, but try to flash a small smile so his drunk brain doesn’t understand your hurriedness as anger. “You’re clearly still drunk, c’mon, don’t make me have to drag you.”

Realizing there’s no way out of this other than listening to you, Mingyu caves in and gets on the passenger seat of Jungkook’s car. “You wouldn’t be able to drag me anyways.”

Of course, you can't push an over six-foot-tall gym bro even if you use all possible bodily strength you have. "Hell yeah I can!” Your teasing stare meets his, and you know he got what he wanted by pushing your buttons.

"I’d love to see you try.”

An indescribable feeling completely shuts down the workings of every organ inside you. It could be what he said, but it’s just a common phrase to tease a friend. It could be his eyes that refuse to leave yours. Or it could be the silver of a smirk that appears as you hold your breath. Whatever it is, you push it down, hide it on the very back of your mind and put up ten walls to disguise as a simple and normal response to teasing.

“We should-”

“I don’t like him.” The drunken backseat passenger you had forgotten about interrupts you.

“Who?” The distraction allows you to break eye contact with Mingyu. A believable excuse to put a stop to whatever was happening.

“That guy she was with.” Jungkook looks like he’s talking to himself, his eyes closed as if he wanted to fall asleep and unaware of who he's actually talking to.

��Cathlyn? Her boyfriend?” Mingyu intercepts so you wouldn’t have to ask the awkward questions, already knowing where this conversation’s going. “Yugyeom?”

“Ugh, don't say his name.” Mingyu’s instinct tells him to see your reaction, to check if you realize what Jungkook means by all of this, and especially if it hurts you. “He has a douchebag face.”

You chuckle at his pouty statement, but deep down his words pierce a surface cut on your denying heart. It’s gone as fast as it came, but it was there, and your hands automatically started the car, urging you to start driving like nothing happened.

Ever since the evening started, Mingyu knew Jungkook wasn't going to have a good time. Not since opening the door to the bar that revealed Yugyeom there with Cathlyn.

“Why is he here?” Jungkook muttered under his breath, annoyed, on the verge of being angry.

“She's allowed to invite her boyfriend. Just like you invited your girlfriend.” Is all Mingyu replied.

Jungkook has been in his life ever since he can remember. When their first tooth fell out, when they schemed behind their parents to figure out if Santa was real, when he got his first bicycle and Jungkook laughed in his face when he fell and scraped his knee, when they met Cathlyn in high school and Jungkook’s eyes shined brighter than ever, when they went to prom and lost their virginities on the same night, and when they got accepted to the same college and joined the same classes. Every memory Mingyu has, it’s always Jungkook by his side. He can't mess with that peace, no matter how violently he wants to tell his friend to stop playing with girls’ hearts and realize he’ll be much happier if he owned up to his true feelings.

So, he resorts to trying to make Jungkook connect the dots himself by telling him harsh enough truths. It’s a work in progress.

In the few hours you’ve all been at the bar’s pool table, Mingyu hasn’t said a word. He's been sitting alone at one table on the side, seeing his friends sucking at playing and actually having fun.

With the excuse of being tired and simply enjoying watching each round, he took the opportunity to be temporarily invisible. With all of them busy, he can look at you all he wants, smile to himself when you miss your shot, and pretend to be drinking from his half empty glass.

There’s not much more he can do. Whatever he thinks he feels, whatever he thinks of you, it’s wrong. That’s why, at that moment, he prefers the loneliness of his table. The crude reality punishing him in real time is enough.

Doesn’t matter if you’re on the same team as Jungkook or not, your attention is always focused on him. You search for his touch, his eyes, crave his attention on you. But the more drunk his friend gets, the more competitive he gets, and the little patience he had with your lack of pool skills is quickly dissipating.

Another round finishes, with the both of you losing to Cathlyn and Yugyeom again, and it’s more than obvious that Jungkook’s annoyed. When your opponents excuse themselves to the bar to get more drinks, you try playing on your own and see an opportunity to try and get Jungkook in a good mood again.

“I swear I know where to hit it! My arms just won’t cooperate.” A chuckle escapes during your lighthearted shout.

Jungkook sighs at your missed shot, your pout having no effect as he’s trying to conceal his annoyance. “Which one are you thinking?” He only asks.

“The red one, close to the middle?” You point to it, waiting for any reaction, but he just waits for you to continue. “If I hit it a little to the right, I think it can go inside the left corner hole.” Bodily coordination may not be your strong suit, but you’ve played enough online pool that your brain’s trained to draw the imaginary angles.

The main idea was telling Jungkook your theory, him realizing you actually have an idea of how to play the game, and finally teaching you how to get a hold of the cue stick correctly.

“You have to do it like this.” Jungkook takes the cue from your hands and takes your place, ushering you to the side to watch as he takes the shot. “Your index and middle fingers serve to place the tip of the stick where you want it.”

“But I-” You were right, and the ball enters exactly where you said it would, but you can’t chant victory. Not when his attention shifts to a heated argument just meters away from you.

In the second it takes you to focus on what’s happening, your eyes land on Yugyeom stomping out of the bar, a crying Cathlyn left behind. You don’t even have to check if Jungkook’s still by your side, as he soon enough appears with an arm around her shoulders in an intent to console her.

When he starts getting the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, and heads to walk out the door, you realize the comforting session won’t be quick. But why would it be? His best friend just had a screaming fight with her boyfriend in public. It makes total sense that he’d want to take her out to have some fresh air and a little more privacy than inside the full bar.

“If I knew the night would be like this, I would’ve stayed home resting for next week.” Your body falls on the chair next to where Mingyu’s been sitting in silence. His flat expression rapidly makes you uncomfortable, like you just crossed a line. “Shit, they’re your friends, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t hav–”

“No, you’re right.” He interrupts you, with a tone that implies you must've taken the words right out of him. “I get having troubles, God knows I've seen them go through stuff, but we're allowed to be tired of it.”

Between his cold exterior and sometimes unfriendly choice of words, Mingyu's surprisingly capable of understanding other people's feelings.

“Has this been happening a lot recently?” You don't care to sound like a gossip. “Her fighting with her boyfriend, I mean.”

Mingyu sighs, eyes wandering to the door through which both of his friends just stepped out of. “Let’s just say, it’s been a regular occurrence.”

“Well, let’s not let other people’s problems ruin the fun.” You decide out loud. You’ve been having fun since you got here, regardless of your boyfriend’s bad mood, and you’re not going to let anything ruin your last night out before the busy week you have ahead. “Do you want another drink?” You down the last sip of what Jungkook was drinking.

“Oh, actually, I’m saving to pay for gas for the trip we have next week. I promised to drive, so.” Mingyu explains, too apologetic for simply refusing a drink. “You’re coming right? It’s a congress that our college’s doing.”

“Of course I’m coming,” maybe you should be offended that he doesn’t know, but it’s not his fault, “I’m the one giving the presentation.”

“Wait, seriously?” Mingyu’s eyes go wide, in slight shock as well as in embarrassment. “I knew you had a big thing coming up, but I didn’t think it was that! How did I not know?”

“Maybe Jungkook forgot to tell you. You know how he is…” Mingyu nods at your statement, but the answer brewing in his mind gets cut short by the glass door opening once again.

As if he was summoned, Jungkook re enters the bar alone, quickly lets you know he'll wait outside for Cathlyn's uber with her, and leaves again without sparing you another glance.

Silence fills the void between Mingyu and you, only murmurs from the people around the bar manage to make it not unbearable. Awkward again, you never seem to have a normal conversation with Mingyu without feeling some type of way. Jungkook interrupting seemingly added a layer of tension very hard to dissipate.

“I’m gonna… practice playing.” You aren’t the best at handling awkward silences, so you stand up with that excuse. “I’m so bad at it! I think the stick does the opposite of what I want on purpose.”

Mingyu chuckles behind you, following you to the pool table to watch up close. “You’re not that bad.” You look at him dead in the eyes, head tilting to the side with scepticism. “I’ve been watching you play! You just need to learn how to get into position correctly.”

Your arms cross in front of your chest, deciding if what Mingyu’s saying is in any way true, or if he’s just trying to make you feel better. He takes the cue laying on the table, accidentally knocking a few balls away from their places in the process.

“Show me how you’d do it.” As he hands the pool stick to you, warm smile and standing tall facing you, you feel secure he won’t tease you if you’re awful.

“Okay, but don’t you dare mock me.” The lighthearted threat makes him chuckle again, and your fingers tremble grabbing the stick from his hand. “This is my usual.”

You mentally cringe at yourself, but you push through it and lean your chest forward, hovering over the table, setting the tip of the stick between your fingers and analyzing which ball to hit.

“I see where things might go wrong.” His voice sounds closer with each word, but it's not enough to prepare you to feel his chest against your back, his arms embracing you to guide your hand where he wants to. “Your hand’s too close to the end of the stick. You’re not in full control of it.”

When he places his hand over yours, helping you slide it up the cue, you’re sure your whole body’s covered in goosebumps. Your heart accelerates to unimaginable speeds, about to jump out of your chest as Mingyu’s breath fans on the back of your neck.

“I think we can get the blue striped one,” your mouth blurts out faster than your brain can think, “If I manage to hit the white a little to the left, I can go right and push it into the middle hole.” You try to play off the unprecedented effects Mingyu has over you, forcing yourself to get your mind back in game mode.

He doesn’t let go of his hold on your hand, his arm grazing yours even more closely. “Are you sure? That one seems like a long shot.” You can hear his smirk through his teasing words.

“Just help me hit it there.” Your head turns just barely to the side, finding his face much closer than you imagined, and your eyes roll before going back to the table, trying to mask the blush you feel creeping on your cheeks. “I know I’m right.”

“Relax a bit. It’s close to the hole, so you don't need to hit it too hard.” Mingyu extends his other arm over the table, helping you position the tip to hit exactly where you told him to. You don't dare move, his cheek brushing against your temple freezing you in place momentarily.

When you feel his hands tighten over yours, taking control of the stick with your fingers tangling with his, your arms fall limp, letting him shoot the shot. With the tiniest push, the barest tense of his muscles all around you, both your arms move the cue forward and hit the white ball.

The both of you smile as the striped ball falls in the hole you said it would, relaxing against one another before realizing just how close you really are.

“I told you, I was right.” You chuckle away from him, using cue in your hands as a barrier.

“I’m sorry I ever doubted your skills.” Maybe it’s the drink he was stalling to finish until you approached him, but Mingyu’s more relaxed with you tonight, a little more prone to smiling than usual.

“Babe?” But Jungkook’s voice quickly wipes it off his face. “Let’s get going, wait for me outside.”

“Wait!” You get off Jungkook’s hold, almost offended that he thinks he can drag you away at his will. “I was finally getting a hang of it. Mingyu’s a better teacher than you, you know.” You try to joke to ease the suddenly tense atmosphere, but it doesn’t work.

“I’m really tired, babe. And I promised I’d take you home, so, please?” Jungkook retorts, face turned your way, but his eyes are on his roommate.

The staring contest between the two men doesn’t stop, an indecipherable friction you don’t really want to find out the meaning behind.

“O…kay,” there isn’t really an out where the three of you will be happy, so you just accept Jungkook’s petition to leave, “bye Mingyu.”

You walk away, your hand in the air wishing for Jungkook to take it and come after you.

Mingyu begins to grab his stuff, assuming the both of you will be quickly out the door by the time he’s done paying his tab, but it seems the night is not over for him yet.

Jungkook grabs him by the arm and turns him around so they’re face to face. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What the hell man?” Mingyu shoves the other’s hand away, a hunch telling him his friend’s anger has something to do with you.

“I leave for a minute and you’re all flirty with my girl.” Jungkook’s always been a jealous man, but Mingyu can’t help but sigh at the accusation.

Still, Mingyu can’t lie and say he wasn’t flirting. He can’t say he didn’t love the way you were blushing and squirming under him. And he can’t say that it wasn’t what he was looking for.

“I was entertaining her because you left.” He retaliates with a part of the truth. “It’s getting old man, you can’t just leave her to go after Cathlyn all the time.”

“You’re back with that again.” Jungkook throws his arms in the air, easily irritated by the topic. “You know what? I’m tired of this.” As the confrontation he was looking for didn’t turn out the way he wanted to, Jungkook begins walking away, “I’m leaving, we’re leaving.”

“You never want to talk about it, but you know it’s wrong.” Mingyu adds, a little louder this time. “You gotta stop.”

“Why are you so worried?” Getting more frustrated by the second, Jungkook barely turns, not fully facing Mingyu. “You never cared about it before.”

“C’mon man, I’ve always noticed.” How awful of a person he is. Accomplice to his best friend breaking girl after girl’s hearts, it’s true that he never cared this strongly about Jungkook’s extracurricular activities. Even though he always tried to make Jungkook realize the truth by himself, for his own good, Mingyu can admit, to himself at least, that now he has an added, selfish reason to want his friend’s behavior to come to an end.

“It’s my life. When I need an opinion, I’ll ask for it.” With that, Jungkook finally leaves, getting out the door to where you’re waiting in the cold.

Mingyu wasn’t done with the conversation. There was so much more he wanted to say. He wanted to say that it’s your life too. Jungkook's messed up feelings were affecting the people around him too, especially every girl he dates to forget. Especially you. But he just couldn’t keep pushing it, not without the truth coming to the light.

Mingyu’s reputation of being too serious, or even heartless sometimes, wasn't born out of nothing. He's aware of his resting bitch face, of the way he bolts in and out of class and the way he's never the first choice for group projects in the classes none of his friends attend. If he cared what other people thought of him, maybe it'd hurt. But he has enough friends, friends who like him the way he is, and doesn't go to college to expand his contact list.

Going to university, to him, was exclusively a way for him to learn more about his likes and interests. He goes to his classes and focuses maybe a little too much, but it’s how he lives his days, how the hours pass until he has to go to work. That is, until you came into his life unprovoked, and disorganized his sharp and efficient lifestyle.

He never crossed paths with you on campus before, and if he were to run into you after the first time he met you, he would've probably ignored you and scurried to his building like a flash. But today, he unconsciously looked around, hoping to catch even a glimpse of your figure coming out of your major’s building. He hoped you’d see him and smile at him as you walked his way to make useless small talk. But you didn’t, of course you didn't, and as soon as he sat down on his usual seat in his favorite class, he realized. He’s fucked.

For the first time in his life, the numbers on the chalkboard didn't make any sense, the words coming out of his favorite professor's mouth sounded like a mumble of pure nonsense. His mind couldn't focus, diving into the memory of your sweet smile next to his ear. Or the shivers your body graced him with as his hands purposely covered yours on the cue stick. His hand would grab his pen to try and write a single sentence, and the feeling of your fingers barely interlaced with his would overwhelm him.

What’s worse than pining after your best friend’s girl? As of the moment, Mingyu has no answer. There’s nothing he can really do either, besides accept you’re in a sort of happy relationship. He can’t take you aside and say ‘hey, you know your boyfriend? My friend? Yeah, so I have a theory that he might be in love with his girl best friend, sorry!’ Even thinking of doing so puts a bad taste in his mouth.

He's aware that, currently, he's at least top5 worst friends in the world. And he's not looking to end your relationship and get bumped up to the top1. It's decided. He'll just ignore whatever feelings are bubbling on the pit of his stomach until they disappear!

Easier said than done, because nothing he does seems to get you out of his mind. And the vivid reminder that he’s nothing more than someone you have to get along with is screaming at him everywhere around his home.

The four walls of his bedroom imprison him, suffocate him with the thought of you. He is a bad friend. He does want you. He does resent Jungkook for keeping you his. But if he broke up with you, would Mingyu ever see you again? Would he ever get the chance to see the heat visibly rushing to your cheeks as he walked closer to you?

Mingyu hates himself. He hates himself for getting turned on at the memory of your body heat against him, shivering at his closeness but not pulling away, letting him wrap himself around you, even if the both of you knew he shouldn't. He needs to drive his mind elsewhere.

Locking in to work in front of his computer, trying to scare away the sturdiness building up in his jeans, it might become the first time he wishes it was his day to go to the office. The front door of the apartment opens, rushed steps and messy, wet, breaths echoing against every thin wall that surrounds him. The reminder that what he deeply wants, it's not, and should never be his.

Working from home has never been so much of a curse.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

Jungkook grips at your sides, his body flushing against you and pressing you further into the couch. The near desperate way his lips roam over yours has you gasping for air, but he doesn’t relent, hands making a mess of your hair as he hopes you give him the satisfaction he craves for.

He grinds his hips against yours with determination, and you press against him trying to give him what he’s hopelessly looking for. But no matter what you do, he goes in for more, your bodies getting more and more out of sync.

You try to give him what he wants, emitting sounds of a satisfaction you're nowhere near feeling. His mouth moves to the side of your neck, leaving marks you're not sure you want.

The white door, now in your line of sight, calls for your attention. You shouldn’t be thinking about other people while you have a man in between your legs doing everything to feel any type of pleasure. But if the yellow light sneaking below the closed door alerts you of something, is that the person at the back of your mind is probably right there, behind the dangerously thin cardboard the architects of the building call a wall.

“Isn't Mingyu gonna hear?” The choked up question comes out in a whisper, in fear, in panic. And the mention of his name speeds up your heart rate far more than your current activity.

Jungkook barely cares about your worry. “He's gaming.”

You know gaming implies wearing noise canceling headphones and tuning out of the real world. But is he really?

“I don't know, babe, shouldn't we check?” It sounds stupid to even ask. Check? Knock on his door to very politely ask him if he can hear you having sex?

“He's not gonna hear,” Jungkook sighs, finally looking you in the eyes to answer, “and I wouldn't care if he did. He has to know you're mine.”

There's a speck of disdain behind his words, behind the weirdly possessive statement he just made. It leaves you more breathless than ever.

“What are you talking about?” You don't know what kind of egotistical manly fight they have going on, men friendships are not exactly your expertise, but it can't be about something you're aware of.

“Don't tell me you don't see it.” Jungkook hasn't gotten up from on top of you, but his hands on the sides of your waist tighten a bit more after your question.

“I don't know what you mean.” You chuckle in an intent to ease up the newly tense atmosphere. You didn’t mean to make it about him. “He's your friend, you shouldn't be jealous.”

“And you shouldn’t be talking about another man while you're under me.” Jungkook retorts, half angry, half still turned on. It's a weird mix. One that doesn't let you reply to correct yourself.

Jungkook lowers down to your mouth once again, kissing you fervently to make you forget about anyone else. And you decide to let go. He’s here, your bodies tangled together and your loose clothing crumbled up your torsos to feel each other’s skins. You shouldn’t doubt that, in that moment, he wants you.

You drift away into the feeling of his lips against yours, both hands cupping his jaw to relax the hurried pace he’s setting. His hands under your t-shirt feel good, like he knows what he’s doing, like he knows how women like to be touched, and it helps. It helps free your mind of everything else.

Still, you’re careful of the sounds that leave your lips. You let Jungkook’s tongue slip inside and dance with yours, muffling any soft moans you don’t get to restrain. He searches for something, his hips angling with yours to feel some kind of friction. If he keeps moving like that, you’ll be in the mood in no time.

A ringtone coming from the back pocket of Jungkook’s jeans disrupts the quiet setting. You stiffen under him, but he doesn't let his mood come down. You're grateful when he grabs his phone to decline the call and puts it on the end table in a rush, finding your body with his hands once again.

It's like, for the first time, he's prioritizing the time he planned to spend with you. He searches for your touch like nothing happened and you're the only thing he's thinking about.

“Just let it go to voice-mail.” Your hoarse voice surprises you, echoing over a new call. Jungkook doesn’t respond, not stopping the trail of kisses up your neck until your lips are against each other again.

But a call comes in again, and he groans against your mouth, trying to ignore it, letting the default ringtone soundtrack your activities until it stops on its own. It’s awkward, but he doesn’t stop kissing you and wraps your legs around him, trying to make you forget.

By the fourth call, you're both annoyed, and Jungkook reluctantly gets up from on top of you to check who's bothering him so much. The caller gives up just when he gets the phone in his hand, but from the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of him opening his texts. You don’t mean to spy on him, not wanting to be a controlling girlfriend that needs to know everything her boyfriend's doing, but it’d be nice to simply… get told.

The clicking sounds of his fingers typing on the small screen of his phone are about to send you straight to a mental hospital. Why's he typing so fast? So insistent? Is he mad? He's not telling you anything, as if he forgot he was just kissing you out of breath.

“Did something happen?” You dare ask, even if deep down, you know the answer is clear as day. You know who’s the only one capable of making him drop everything in a heartbeat. “Is Cathlyn okay?”

“She needs me.” Is all he replies. Cold. Decided.

“What do you mean?” The question manages to mask the anger brewing inside you. For now. But you need an explanation. How many times can you put up with the same situation until you blow up? He can’t expect you to be all right with being stood up constantly.

“Yugyeom broke up with her.�� He explains without looking at you, like that’s enough of an excuse.

“She always needs you when you’re with me.” Bitterness bleeds through your mumble. It doesn’t feel good. You should understand that best friends need each other. But why are you never on the receiving end of his undivided attention?

“You can’t expect me not to care when she’s going through something. She’s my best friend. She goes first. Always.”

His words are like a bucket of ice water in the middle of winter. The explicit revelation that his priorities are carved on stone. There's silence as he realizes what he said, and neither of you dare speak up.

Your lungs expand but no air gets inside, and your throat threatens to close as your body prepares to start shedding tears. “Why make plans with me if you're just gonna sprint her way at any sign of trouble?” You can’t stop them. “You’re supposed to be with me.”

Tears cascade down your face, quiet sobs getting in the way of your pathetic pleads. Covering your face from the outside world, you shrink in place, giving in to the crying as Jungkook kneels in front of you.

“Baby, I'm sorry.” His now soft voice barely reaches you over your sobs. “I know I haven't been very present.”

“No, you haven't.” His hands carefully withdraw yours from your probably blotched face.

“I promise you,” Jungkook makes the effort to look you in the eyes, “after this, I’ll be better. I'll make it up to you.”

He tries. But you, convinced or not of his willingness to fulfill the promise, don't want him to leave. It's not about the fight, or the sex, or even him. If he leaves, it cements you as the second option. If it was about winners or losers, you'd lose.

“Stay.” It comes out so quiet you're afraid he didn't hear you.

But he did.

“I can't.”

Silence again. Deafening silence as you look at each other with different thoughts racing through your brains. He decided. There's nothing to be done.

Jungkook takes your hand in his and squeezes it tight in an attempt to bring you comfort. He thinks he's doing the right thing. He thinks he'll be able to nurse his best friend's heart and then come running back to you after.

At your silence, he stands up, reaching for his coat hanging on the hallway before sparing you one last look and heading out.

The soft click of the door closing behind him breaks you a little more inside. The couch, no longer warm with the weight of two bodies, feels empty, too big for you to fill.

Bare, exposed, you let yourself be vulnerable only for him to cut you off and leave you there, with your feelings blurting out of you in the form of tears and sobs. The undecorated walls judge you as you cry your eyes out. Is there something you can do that’ll make him like you more? You already try so hard, you’re just not… her.

When the white door opens to reveal the other man of the house, you're not surprised. Of course he was there, and of course he heard everything. Your luck wouldn't let you escape this situation without throwing a more embarrassing one at your hands.

It took Mingyu all of two seconds to realize what was happening. His headphones in the grip of his hand are proof that he did not want to hear what you two were doing, he just didn’t get to put them on. He may be a bad friend, but he's not one to invade someone's privacy.

That's why it took him a bit more time to decide to step out of his room. Would you let him be there for you? Would you be too embarrassed? You shouldn’t be, he thinks. It’s not your fault.

At one point, he got used to Jungkook abandoning his fleeting girlfriends at the first notification from his best friend that popped up. Mingyu never did anything for the girls, and they usually left after a few minutes. Maybe that's why most of them didn't like him. He didn't care, and they always cut ties with everything Jungkook related after the break up, so why would he?

He shouldn't be doing anything. Caring that you're crying alone in the middle of his living room goes against every rule he imposed onto himself. He should be cleansing his mind of you, stepping away from the weird not-friendship you two developed and going back to focusing on the things that matter. He shouldn’t let you climb up that list.

But as soon as he heard his roommate standing up and leaving, the itch at the back of his brain started screaming at him to do something. How can he step back and do nothing? He can’t be indifferent this time. Unfortunately, he does care. Unfortunately, every sob and quiet sniffle tugs at his heart and urges him to be there for you, to come out and try to be there for you as best he can.

The sight of you, even if it's not something he hadn't seen before, breaks him. Making yourself as little as possible, with your clothes wrinkled and your hair a mess, you let him sit by your side, the cold couch caving under him as he settles at a good enough distance that he’s close enough to feel him beside you, but not sticking to your side inappropriately.

The silence with him is a more understanding one. It’s not the first time he’s seen you cry, but you don’t dare say anything. Is there even something to say? You didn't argue, Jungkook didn't run away angry at you, he didn't tell you he hates you and wishes you were somebody else, yet, you feel as if he did something worse. Empty yet full of self deprecating thoughts you wouldn't voice out to the best psychologist on the planet. You couldn’t tell Mingyu even if you wanted to.

A hand, warm and firm, places just above your knee. It’s soft, careful, an innocent touch to understand that he’s there for you. The gesture is oddly comforting, and you allow yourself to feel everything. The embarrassment, the disappointment, the hurt, knowing Mingyu won't judge you for it.

“It’s not your fault.” Mingyu claims, his voice overpowering your racing thoughts.

Maybe it’s the way he says it so sincerely, but you break down even more. Your hands cover your face once again, bending down until your forehead touches your knees. Mingyu’s hand frees itself from the cage you created. He’s definitely had enough of your crying for the night by now. He tried to help and you repay him by dropping half your weight onto his hand and continue crying? If he leaves too, you wouldn’t blame him.

But he doesn’t leave. Instead, Mingyu wraps his arm around your shoulder and brings you closer to him. “He doesn’t deserve your tears.”

Your heart stops for a second, taking in your closeness and the reason behind it, and what he said about his close friend. Your head lays against Mingyu’s shoulder almost on its own, and he keeps you there, even if your tears start staining his shirt.

“He wasn’t like this before.” Your voice breaks trying to defend the you of the past, and the arm behind you stiffens before you feel his hand hold onto your other shoulder for comfort. “They warned me, and I didn’t listen.”

He shouldn’t be the one to tell you. Mingyu knows that. But you’re so broken, crumbling against him like there’s nothing else you can do, that he almost lets the truth slip out. It’s on the tip of his tongue, the thing that’ll break you even more. But he can’t allow himself to do it.

So, he stays silent, offering a place for you to let out all your feelings. Whatever you need to feel better, even if it’s just a little.

Mingyu doesn’t know how much time passes, or what you’re thinking, but he can feel how your breathing regulates with every second. Eventually, your sniffles become rarer and rarer, you straighten your posture and, unfortunately for him, step away from his hold.

“I’m sorry, I–” You can’t look him in the eyes, taken aback by the realization of what happened, guilt making you trip over your words, “I shouldn’t have–”

Getting up and gathering your things is the only thing you can think of doing. Whatever solace you found in his arms is now gone, replaced by an awkwardness you don’t know how to handle. Mingyu’s eyes bore holes on your back as you pick up your things that fell down when you first entered the apartment without care.

“It’s okay,” Mingyu’s gentle words help you relax, but the need to get out of the apartment is stronger. “You can stay, I don’t want you to leave while being upset.”

“I can’t be here, Mingyu.” You don’t mean to sound so hostile, but everywhere you look is a reminder of how pathetic you just were. It’s pushing you away.

“Is there anything I can do?” Mingyu hovers around you, not wanting to scare you away. He’ll do whatever you ask him to. “Anything.”

“I– I just want to be alone.” You walk yourself to the door, too tired to think about how you feel about everything that happened. Too busy to consider anything else. “I have to get ready for tomorrow.”

“Right, it’s tomorrow.” He’d forgotten about the college thing. Your college thing. He was so busy pretending to mind his own business and hiding from his feelings that he forgot you have your own life too. “You’re gonna do great.”

“Thank you…” Your hand rests on the door handle, hesitating leaving Mingyu after he helped you. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Your lips tight in the best smile you can manage, in an attempt to not seem mad at him.

“We’ll pick you up in the morning.” Mingyu announces, even if he knows you planned to come on your own.

“There’s no need for that.” You let out a sad, airy chuckle that squeezes Mingyu’s heart.

“No, We’ll–” he starts, but corrects himself, “I’ll pick you up. It’s not up to discussion. You, focus on resting.”

Mingyu takes the decision for you and opens the door himself, both of you ignoring the tingling at the touch of your hands. A quiet mumble goodbye is all you manage to say before going for the elevator. And Mingyu stays at the door until he’s sure the elevator’s going down.

The scorching mid-day sun heated the car so much you can’t rest against it. A few feet ahead, the guys stand in line at the convenience store at the gas station, with mainly energy drinks in hand and a few sandwiches. After driving the entire morning, everyone collectively decided to stop for a while for a bit of leg stretching and to recharge for more hours of driving.

It’s been a weird day from the start.

Mingyu picked you up like he promised, and even made sure you didn’t dare take an uber to their home by texting you they were on the way too early in the morning. You were about to open the uber app when he texted.

You barely got any sleep during the night, your brain switching from replaying the evening at Jungkook’s place and revising for the presentation. You rested so little, yet the usually soothing hum of the car isn’t helping you sleep, choosing to focus on everyone’s voice.

Since you opened your eyes, after tossing and turning all night, you didn’t let yourself think about anything that wasn’t the presentation. When to pause, how much to wave your hands in the air. It worked to an extent. But hearing Jungkook sitting by your side making the effort to talk to Cathlyn, who was sitting in the passenger seat while Mingyu was driving, almost made you go insane.

The only reason you’re alone waiting while the rest of them shop is because you insisted. No, you don’t need to go to the bathroom. No, you don’t want anything specific to eat. No, you don’t need to walk it out. Just in need of a little bit of peace. And Jungkook let you be. He’s been pretending nothing happened the previous night, and you’re glad he’s not forcing you to voice out your thoughts.

The bell above the store’s door chimes as everyone leaves altogether. Instinctively, you reach for the passenger’s door, as the idea was for Mingyu and Jungkook to switch seats so Mingyu can take a rest from driving, but a voice reaches you before you get the chance to open the car.

“Is it okay if I stay there?” Cathlyn runs over to you with a pack of chips in hand.

“Shotgun again?” Jungkook appears behind her, a sly smile on his face before he rounds the car to open the trunk.

She giggles at him but turns her attention back to you when she notices your silence and questioning look. “I’m sorry, I just get really dizzy in the backseat.”

Giving up on reality is easier than fighting it. You’re not going to be the one to deny the poor girl who just got broken up with. Sure, sit with your best friend, laugh with him and ignore the rest of the world outside your bubble. Who cares? “Sure, I don’t mind.”

The car is not that small, but with Cathlyn’s friend, who you didn’t know was coming on the trip until you were in front of the car on the street by your building, you end up between her and Mingyu in the backseat.

Feeling him by your side wakes up flashbacks from the previous night. But if before he was warm and comforting, he’s now rigid in place, looking out the window as the car gets back on the road. You don’t know what you expected, or why you feel a hint of disappointment at the pit of your stomach, but there’s nothing you can really do. You aren’t giving him many chances to be friendly with you either.

For a moment, you’re thankful for the cease in conversation, when Jungkook turns up the volume of the radio and random pop hits start entrancing everyone in the car into listening quietly. Cathlyn and her friend, who they call Mel, bob their heads to the song in sync without realizing, and it’s peaceful.

But then, the next song plays, and the two people sitting in the front part of the car collectively gasp. Mingyu shifts on your side, and you know he recognized what they did too.

“This is the song that–” Cathlyn starts, but they both laugh before she can finish explaining.

“He really hated you for that.” The only reason Jungkook’s eyes are on the road is because he’s driving, because if he weren’t, you’re sure he’d be laughing his ass off with Cathlyn.

“He hated me before too!” She slaps his shoulder before erupting into laughter again. “For no reason may I add.”

All three of you in the backseat just stare at them, listening, waiting for one of them to think of telling the anecdote. Your instincts want nothing more than to look at Mingyu, side eye him for a little help, but you fight them.

“What did you do?” Mel asks by your side, trying to get the attention from the party in the front.

“Our history teacher hated her in senior year.” Jungkook looks at Mel through the rear-view mirror. “She argued with him almost every day.”

“I can see her doing that.” While her friend chuckles at the bit of the story, Cathlyn still doesn’t turn around, almost exclusively laughing with Jungkook.

“And he threatened to fail me on the last test we had!”

“I keep telling you, there’s no way he would’ve done that.”

“It seemed like a very real threat to me.”

“So, you had to blast this song outside the classroom?”

“I had to make a show out of it!”

As they keep bickering about their senior year, leaving you out of the fun, the air around you becomes as awkward as ever. Mel’s laughing with them, the only one paying real attention to their jabs at each other. Mingyu, on the other hand, looks down as he plays with his fingers. You’re… bored.

The conversation you’re not a part of doesn’t interest you, the music’s no longer loud enough to help you take your mind off everything, and you have at least two more hours of agony.

So you focus on the cars on the road, the ones you pass, the ones that pass you, the grass, the animals, the farms, until your eyes finally close on their own.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

When you open your eyes again, the car’s slowing down, arriving at the motel that’ll house the five of you for the following days. It’s still bright outside, but the slightly orange tones in the sky and your stomach growling indicate the beginning of the evening.

A familiar hard surface below your temple holds your head in place. When exactly you fell asleep is the first question that pops up in your head. The second one answers itself quickly.

“We’re here.” Mingyu’s low voice accompanies his soft grip just above your knee, with a little reminder of the last time it was there.

As you lift your head and stretch your neck until it pops, it hits you. You fell asleep on Mingyu’s shoulder. A whole two hours where you bothered him, again. Made him take care of you, again.

“You should’ve woken me up.” Mingyu shakes his head at your intent of an apology, but you interrupt him before he speaks up, “I’m sure you were uncomfortable.”

“Really, I didn’t mind.” In the background, Cathlyn and Mel excuse themselves out of the car to look for their room in a rush. “I can wash all the drool off my shirt just fine.”

“I do not drool.” The way he chuckles compels you to join him. It’s easy, and the first time you even smiled in the day.

The door to the driver’s seat shuts closed with force, and both you and Mingyu scurry to get out of the car as soon as possible.

You don’t miss the way Jungkook studies you as he hands each of you your bags from the trunk. Cold as ice, he stays silent when Mingyu excuses himself to find their shared room.

“If your plan’s to make me jealous, that’s not gonna cut it.” Jungkook’s voice surprises you from behind, and the frown he wears on his face accompanies the angry tone.

“I didn’t plan anything.” He doesn’t speak to you the whole trip, and now he has the audacity to be mad at you? “But by the looks of it, whatever you think I did, it clearly worked.”

“Already looking for a rebound?” He follows behind you to the entrance of the motel.

“Jungkook, I don’t have time for this.”

You have hours and hours of practice ahead of you, and they might not be enough for your talk to be perfect. He knows the congress is a big deal to you, or at least he should. You can’t be thinking about anything else. Not about him. Not about your relationship with him. Not about Mingyu.

“Are you planning to break up with me?” You’ve never heard him talk like this before. He doesn’t sound hurt, just angry, jealous.

You scoff. “If you keep being an asshole, I might.” The answer blurts out without checking with your brain first. He didn’t expect you to say something back. You didn’t either.

“Fine.” Jungkook crosses his arms, waiting for you to say the words you’re not even sure you want to utter. “Do it.”

“Look, I can’t deal with this right now.” You take a deep breath, trying to think clearly, to not do anything impulsively. “You’re mad and I’m stressed. It’s not the best time.”

“Are you saying you’ll do it tomorrow?”

“What? I’m not saying anything, Jungkook, stop.” Your bag’s heavy on your shoulder as you rack your brain for anything to help you out of this. “Why don’t we take the night off, I’ll practice for tomorrow, you can relax after all the driving, and we’ll have a proper talk tomorrow. Okay?”

Jungkook huffs, mumbling something close to a ‘fine then, bye’ before storming off.

The back of your throat feels dry and hoarse from the hours of speech practice. How to modulate correctly, how to make your voice bigger. It takes a toll on you.

When you and your friends planned to do the finishing touches the night before the congress, none of you thought you’d be trapped in a tiny motel room for hours, tweaking the words to seem more professional, timing yourselves to fit in the 15 minute time slot, and even going as far as to plan when and how to look at the screen behind you.

Your stomach growls incessantly. You haven’t had anything to eat in hours, besides the simple dinner the three of you had after setting up in your rooms. Seeing every one of you is tired, the girls don’t stop you when you get up and leave the room in search of a vending machine.

Somehow, the balcony has better lighting than your hallway, and you spot a big vending machine just outside your hallway. Picking a snack is not hard when your tummy begs for anything, so you grab the random chip bag you picked and begin to head back when you hear a loud thud and a curse coming from the next hallway.

Judging by which hallway you’re walking into, and the sheer size of the person bending over in pain in front of their door, it’s Mingyu.

“Are you okay?” You rush to help him in any way you can.

Mingyu’s head shoots your way and he curses again. “Shit, it’s you, hi, yeah.” He grunts in between words and tries to stand up straight. “I closed the door right in my hand. It’s no big deal, really. Go rest for tomorrow.”

Even from afar, you could see the sweat stains on the back of his sleeveless t-shirt. His shallow breathing and sweat dripping down his hair and face welcome you as you reach him. It's a sight. His skin glistening under the white hallway lights catches your attention a second longer than it should before it goes back to the cause of his pain.

“You’re bleeding!” Taking a closer look at the hand he’s holding, you see a growing red bubble right under the ring finger’s nail. “Let’s get you inside.”

“You don’t have to–”

“Shut up and go put your hand under running cold water.” After he’s helped you so many times, the least you can do is google what to do when someone has a bubble of blood growing under their nail.

The empty room catches your attention as you read the quick answers your search pulled up. “Jungkook’s not here?”

Looking over to the open bathroom door, Mingyu’s hand is under the running tap like you instructed, but he’s staring at you with an indecipherable look in his eyes. He must know about the fight you two had.

“He went out with some friends that came here too.” He answers before giving up and drying his hand. “It’s not clearing out.”

You should be used to him sitting closely by your side. Your breath shouldn’t quicken and your hands shouldn’t sweat as the bed creaks below him. Actually, you need to stop getting into situations where Mingyu needs to sit beside you. But you can’t help it.

Maybe focusing on his minor injury can help your body relax. “Okay, so, google says it should go away on its own in like… two or three days.” Even if there’s so many questions you have for him that you avoided all day, it’s not the time.

“I'll have to stay with a blood bubble on my finger for days?” His threatening pout lifts your mood quickly.

You chuckle, taking his hand in yours once again. “Does it hurt?” Mingyu shakes his head with a small smile growing in his face, letting you have your way.

Now that he’s calmer than when you found him outside, his fingers relax in your hold as you look for any bruises. His hand that held you and comforted you one too many times, now being taken care of by you. Rushes of warm blood follow where your skin meets his, even the lightest of touches aren't free of his effect on you.

“Why didn’t you go with them?” Your mouth betrays you once again, voicing out your thoughts instead of getting through the silence. “Your friends.”

“Didn’t feel like it.” His answer is simple. And you wish it was enough to satiate your curiosity, but you simply can't stop asking questions.

“Nothing more?” You don't know what you expect him to answer. Maybe you're just looking for excuses to keep talking to him, to stay in the momentary bubble that surrounds you every time you’re with him.

“I haven't been… liking him much lately.”

Mingyu's careful with his choice of words. Still believing it’s not his place to talk about what goes on in Jungkook’s life, he can’t not be honest with you, not when you’re so close to him he’s sure you can read every expression on his face.

A drop of sweat drips down the side of his face, training your eyes to follow its way down until it dampens the side of his mouth.

“You're best friends.” A remainder, more to yourself than to him.

“Doesn't mean I have to agree with everything he does.”

Mingyu hopes you understand the meaning behind his words.

You hope he doesn't notice the way your eyes stayed too long on his moving lips before going back to his eyes.

You both hope for things you can't voice out, charging the little space between your stares with electricity. With his hand forgotten in your hold, reading his expression becomes your main task.

None of you dare move, and you know, somehow, that he's waiting for you to do something –anything. What you don't know is what you want.

Your phone chimes in your back pocket just when you part your lips to speak. There's a millisecond, barely noticeable to anyone who wasn't watching Mingyu's gaze closely, where his eyes drift down your face. With your lips dry at his attention, you break the spell, letting go of his hand to reach for your phone.

Nayeon asks where you disappeared to, and sends a long chain of suspecting emojis when you tell her who you’re with.

“I–I have to get back.” Getting up from the weak motel bed in a flash, Mingyu's eyes follow you to the door. “Sorry for taking up your time.”

“You gotta stop with that.” He stops you in your tracks, with a soft grip on your wrist to turn you back to him.

“Stop talking like you're a bother.” He doesn't let you dismiss him. “You don't bother me. I wouldn't spend time with you if you did.”

“You didn't use to like me. And now you pity me, that's why you spend time with me.” Even if you'd like to believe otherwise.

“That's not true.” He doesn't let go of you, and you stop aiming to get out the door. “I don't pity you.”

“You never talked to me until you caught me crying that day.” Your head tilts, trying not to seem so serious with your counter argument.

Another text comes through your phone. You shouldn't be wasting time on such an important night. But is it really wasted time if you're spending it with him?

“It wasn't about you.” Mingyu reveals, but it doesn't really clear up your doubts. “I don't like getting to know people I'm not sure will stick around.”

“So, it's true.” You bring your arm out of his grip, a way to protect yourself. “I wasn't supposed to last this long.”

“Look. It's not my place, and I've already gotten too involved.” Mingyu's words fly over you, choosing not to overthink what he means. “Jungkook's shit is Jungkook’s shit, but you can decide what to do too. Don't wait for him to make a decision for you.”

“I'm capable of making my own decisions, Mingyu.” You say, convinced but weary of his tone.

“I know you are. He doesn't.”

The silence is striking, breathtaking, heartstopping. Words don't come up in your brain, an infinite echo of Mingyu's remark rendering you incapable of following a simple order.

“See you tomorrow.” You can only offer him a small smile before finally leaving the room full of him.

The applause almost breaks you down. You can finally take a deep breath. The thing you’ve been preparing for weeks, taking up most of your sleep time and raising the bar for how much stress you can handle, is finally done.

Well, not completely. Your speech is done, yes, but the time for questions begins. Jennie and Nayeon answer everything swiftly as your eyes scan the room for any known faces. You finished the presentation and you can barely catch your breath as your heart tries to slow down, so they take on the most annoying part of the job.

From across the room, behind the people eager to ask their questions with their hands in the air or attentively listen to your friends’ responses, the tall man only looking at you makes your heart stop.

Was he there the whole time? When you speak in a room full of people, you tend to disappear into your own mind, barely registering what surrounds you until your time’s up. He could've just got here, but deep down you know he didn’t. Deep down, you know he’s been there since the start, supporting you without your knowledge.

As a hand on your shoulder starts gently dragging you away from the stand, splitting the way between your connected stares, a sense of accomplishment washes over you. You're done, you can carry on with your life.

In the hallway just outside where you just spent the most stressful hours of your life, you can hear the next group beginning their presentation, one that luckily you’re not required to be present for. Perks of being in the line up.

Getting out the other door, Mingyu searches for you and finds you walking over to him with the biggest smile adorning your face.

“What did you think?” Your friends’ giggles make it to your ears from behind. Merging the constant teasing you’re the victim of with their infatuation with Mingyu is dangerous, but there really is only one thing in your mind now.

“You talked really well.” The highlight of every word as his eyebrows wiggle with confusion lights a warmth in your belly that spreads across your body into a chuckle.

“You didn’t understand a thing, did you?”

“I didn’t.” It’s his chuckle, and his smile, and his eyes glimmering, and his chin tilted down to get a better look at you.

Have you ever felt this way before? Easy under someone’s gaze, unafraid of making them feel less intelligent. He’s… genuinely happy for you. Out of all the presentations in the schedule, your subject matter was the least close to his field, yet he chose to listen to your sociology lesson.

“Thank you for coming.” You say before the magic fades. “You–you didn’t have to.”

“I didn’t want to miss it.” He’s the most genuine he can possibly be.

Mingyu undoubtedly, and selfishly, cares about you. From the sidelines, he saw you getting the opportunity, the toll the preparations were taking on you. He wasn’t going to skip one of the biggest moments of your life after seeing you struggle for so long.

“That makes one of you.” You don’t mean it to sound as spiteful, but the sour taste in your mouth as you realize who isn’t present triggers the resentful tone. “Anyway, I’m not gonna let some asshole ruin my day! We’re going to celebrate with the girls and some guys I have no idea how they managed to make friends with, do you want to come?”

Mingyu doesn't think about what you mean behind your invitation. “Sure, if you want me there.” He’d jump at any chance he got to spend time with you.

Ever since that night at the pool bar, Mingyu never forgot your willingness to not let one bad moment overshadow an otherwise enjoyable day. A quality he could learn from. That’s why, he also can’t forget about the moments he comforted you, when everything became so overwhelming you had no choice but to let it all out.

“Let’s go then!” Your hand aims to stretch back for him to take, but the little angel on your shoulder wins this round, and you just walk out the hall with Mingyu following you, hand hanging cold by your side.

The evening sky greets you on the outside world, and the fresh air filling your lungs after being trapped inside the suffocating new college is very welcomed by your body.

Following your friends wherever they go, letting them choose which bar or club to go celebrate, you can only smile and silently walk behind them. Mingyu’s towering presence occupies the space to your right. He’s also silent, admiring the new city, letting you have the unspeaking moment you need.

It’s not long before you’re getting into a club with flashing colored lights and loud pop music coming out of the speakers. The sense of accomplishment embodies you whole. One less thing to worry about, one less thing weighing you down. You won't let anyone take the freedom from you.

It’s a carefree night. You let yourself be dragged to the packed dance floor, your friends leading the way amidst all the bodies crowding as they dance out of sync.

Being drunk could never compare to the happiness you feel as you join everyone dancing. You allow the music to take over you, with your hips and limbs coordinating to the rhythm of each song playing, blending into the sea of people.

You don't know when, you don't care how, and with no will to stop, you and Mingyu drift towards each other, the little space and dim atmosphere making it easy to hide everything wrong with what you're doing.

“You're happy.” Mingyu leans down to say to your ear. The only way you could hear him over all the noise.

“I am!” You don't fight the smile growing in your lips, focusing on the way Mingyu's eyes scan your face under the blue lights.

This time, the battle between the little angel and the devil dictating your choices ends with the victory of the mischievous voice that tells you to inch closer to Mingyu.

With the excuse of the loud music, you stand on your tiptoes to reach the side of his face, your lips grazing his ear as you say, “I'm glad you came.”

His hands steady you in place before you lose your balance, holding onto your hips and keeping you in place.

You should swat his hands away. He should stand back from the girl who isn't his. The tension sizzles from the tip of his fingers barely dipping into a bit of uncovered skin and up your body until your chest tightens.

“I'm sure you'd want someone else here.” Even with the scandalous meaning behind his words, you don't ignore the light teasing tone he purposely uses.

“I'm not thinking about him right now.” His eyes search for yours, finding only truth in them.

The people surrounding you, unscrupulously dancing against each other and paying you no mind, sway your bodies from side to side. Neither of you make a move to separate, letting the pushing crowd be the excuse for your closeness. You have the urge to wrap your arms around his neck, but you fight it. Maybe if he was something else, you would.

But the universe would never let you be this careless without some karma waiting for you.

When your gaze reluctantly disconnects from Mingyu's in search for your friends, the sight of two familiar people catches your attention a few meters to the side. You should've known he was with her. That he'd choose her over you even for this.

They're just dancing, and you can't complain about it because you're currently in the arms of another man too. It's just… different.

Your hands find Mingyu's still on your sides, grabbing them softly to get them off you as your eyes go from the scene you just witnessed to him and then back. Of course, he gets it immediately.

“I can talk to him.” Mingyu has this instinct now, to shield you from having a bad time.

“No, I'll do it. I have a few things in mind to say.” While you appreciate him wanting to help, it’s something you have to do on your own. You can’t shield behind Mingyu any longer.

Making the sacrifice of looking like a psychotic girlfriend, the adrenaline moves your legs forward, no time to think further about what you’re about to do. They don’t see you coming, they probably didn’t even see you with Mingyu before, too sucked into their bubble to notice other people.

“Jungkook.” His shocked expression just confirms your theory. He notices you’re mad quickly, but the wheels turning in his mind, failing to find the reason for your anger, are so visible you can’t control your mouth. “Glad to see you’re having fun.”

“Hi, babe! I didn’t—see you come in!” He leans into the wall behind him for support, body as stiff as ever. “Having a good time?”

“Are you kidding me?” Admittedly, you’re raising your voice a few decibels over the necessary amount, but you’ve never cared less about drawing attention than at this moment. “You really forgot, huh?”

Only then, Jungkook realizes he messed up. It’s not normal to see you angry, especially not at him. “Let’s talk outside, okay? It’s quieter.”

You catch his eyes going back to Cathlyn before he places a hand on your lower back to direct you to the door. Astonishing, really.

“You could make it less obvious, at least.” The harsh cold night wind slaps you even more awake. “I’m not stupid, Jungkook.”

You’re not dressed to be standing outside on the street at this hour. The city’s too windy, making you shiver as if it was the middle of winter. You don’t want to look weak in Jungkook’s eyes, you need to look like you stand your ground. The cold is a mental state anyway, you can fight it.

“You’re not, babe, but what are you talking about? What are you doing here?” His cluelessness does everything but help his situation.

“We’re celebrating that our presentation was a success.” At the news, everything clicks in Jungkook’s mind.

“It was today.” Jungkook reminds himself out loud.

“Of course it was today! Why else do you think we drove all this way?” He has to be a special kind of disengaged and disinterested to selectively wipe his memory like this, you think.

“I’m sorry, baby! So much happened today, and I thought you didn’t want to see me after last night.”

“Don’t use one fight as an excuse. You forgot or you didn’t care. Either way, this was important to me and you didn’t come.”

People passing you on the street side eye the scene you’re making. Jungkook seems to care about being judged, taking in account the way his eyes widen at every raise of your voice.

At his silence, you keep going. “What did Cathlyn fucking need this time? What could have possibly been more important than your girlfriend?” It feels pathetic to call yourself that.

“You have to understand,” his voice becomes tense at the utterance of her name, “she’s my best friend. She means everything to me.”

You’re positive she’s listening to all of this. Hiding behind the club’s door waiting for the chance to come out and comfort her oh so dear best friend. It’s not her fault, but it’s hard not to grow an ill feeling thinking about her.

“Don’t I mean anything? Why get into a relationship with me if you won’t take it seriously? If you’re in love with someone else?”

It’s hard to form an articulated sentence when the anger and the sadness spar in your mind. It’s hard not to feel desperate, a pitiful attempt at making a careless man care about you.

Your gaze trains on the floor, tuning out Jungkook’s lame excuses and not truthful apologies. Without looking at him, and with only the grey sidewalk on sight, it’s like you can think clearly for the first time.

“I’m sorry, baby, I promise I’ll make it up to you.” It’s just a moment where you let his words register, and it’s the last thing you need to decide.

“No. You won’t.”

Jungkook shuts up instantly. Your gaze doesn’t falter this time, locking into his with your best poker face. You can see every thought passing through his mind, every little reaction he fights to show. He analyzes your expression, looking for another meaning, for any sign that you don’t mean what you said.

“I promise I will, baby, c’mon.”

The thing is, after so many promises, those words coming out of his mouth become meaningless. They’re just empty words he uses to get you to forgive him, he’s not being truthful, he’s just begging so he can feel better with himself.

“No! You won’t! That was your last chance.” It gets clearer and clearer to him what you’re saying.

You shouldn't have been silently enduring the scraps of his attention he was giving you. Waiting for your growing feelings to be reciprocated by someone who doesn’t respect you. Those feelings, however big or small —you’re not sure, quickly started dissipating at the realization that he simply didn’t care. It wasn’t his memory, or his busy schedule, it was the lack of intention. Care and intention he always showed to someone else.

“Babe…” He sounds like he gave up too, one last pity attempt you know he doesn’t mean.

“We’re done. You never wanted to be with me, and I certainly don’t want to be with you anymore.”

When you start walking away, Jungkook doesn’t stop you, standing where you left him with his eyes lost to the ghostly street.

Realizing the burden he’s been on your life and letting it go finally lets you see clearly. Your night might’ve been ruined, but you’re liberated from that pain. You’re not happy, but you’re not sad either, just walking forward, a new future ahead.

You’ve walked almost two whole blocks, the motel a half block away, when the sound of rushed steps chasing you alerts you. You didn’t think anyone would be coming after you, but you realize who it is right when the figure appears in your line of sight.

“Are you okay?” Mingyu’s breathless, slowing his pace to match yours. He definitely heard everything that happened.

“Yeah, I think so.” Even if you sound convinced, he stays walking with you.

“I’ll walk you inside.” He doesn’t look back, deciding on what to do. But you know he should be making sure his friend is okay. You guess he is, though.

“I'll be fine. You can stay with—”

“I want to make sure you’re okay.” Mingyu interrupts you before you can say the other’s name. “I don't care about him right now.”

Your heart stops for a moment before your brain catches up. All those times Jungkook left you and Mingyu came right to the rescue, when he got annoyed at them in the pool bar, or admitting he didn’t like what Jungkook was “choosing”. Of course he has to know how his best friend and roommate feels about everyone.

“You knew it all this time.” He doesn’t look at you, staring at the distance as he listens closely. “That he’s in love with her.”

“I didn't want to be the one to tell you.”

Your room door’s just one step away now, but you still stop in your tracks at his words. You never thought of his silence as his way to shield you from the truth. You never thought that the initial pity he took on you —even if he denies it, came from a place of hiding something from you.

“He was in love with somebody else while being with me! That’s the kind of thing you need to tell me!” Luckily, the hallway is completely deserted at this hour. You wouldn’t want to make another scene. You’re more aware of everything now, free but raw, as if anything could scar you.

“It wasn't my place!” For a second you understand Mingyu. Imagining him even implying it hurts more than realizing the truth yourself. But it still hurts. You trusted him with your most vulnerable moments, and all that time he hid that he knew the real cause for that pain. “And don't act like you didn't know it too.”

Mingyu’s harsh comment feels like a punch in the gut. There’s no malice in his tone, you’ve come to know him and his tendency to be too direct sometimes, it was just unexpected this time.

But he is right. There were signs everywhere for you to see, signs you turned a blind eye to. It was a thought that often crossed the back of your mind, but you dismissed it before you could think about it further. You were stupid to think you were paranoid and it meant nothing.

“Stop.” You realize you weren't looking at him and shoot your gaze up. “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t blame yourself. He’s the asshole and you’re not at fault for believing him.”

“But I shouldn’t have. I thought I was smarter than that, turns out I’m just dumb.” You want to curl up in bed, hide from the judging outside world and forget all about Jungkook and the past few weeks. But not all of it.

“He’s the dumb one for not seeing how great you are.” Mingyu's hand on your shoulder manages to comfort you enough to hold off on the tears. “Are you okay? About breaking it off?”

“I know it was the right choice for me. But I have to assimilate it, I think. Sleep it off”

Mingyu nods in acknowledgement as your hand reaches for the doorknob. As if that was your way of ending the conversation, he turns his body to head out the grimy hallway, because he knows what’s next. You’ll cut off everything related to your now ex, a pack of memories in which he himself is included. This is why he shouldn’t have gotten involved with you. There’s no way you’ll want to be in touch with him after everything.

“Mingyu.” It’s your voice that makes him turn around. Even considering how heartbroken you must be, there’s a slight grin on your face as you think about what to say next. “I didn’t say I wanted to be alone.”

His heart accelerates as if it was miles ahead of the thought process his brain is having a hard time catching up with. Still, beyond whatever he wants and feels, he knows you need some time to think clearly, someone to be there for you regardless of feelings.

At his hesitation, you open the door and look back at him as you enter. It’s a clear invitation, one he accepts immediately.

After closing the door behind him, the unmade bed calls his name and he sits at the edge to take his shoes off as you begin your night routine in front of the bathroom mirror.

“I’m curious about something.” You look cute smothering moisturizing cream all across your face, Mingyu thinks. “Do you think she likes him back?”

He finds it in himself to chuckle. “Do you really want to talk about that right now?”

“Look, I won’t be sad about it if I can turn it into a gossip session later. It’s my way of getting over things, so please just indulge me this time.”

You’re looking at him as you tap your face with the pads of your fingers. Mingyu doesn’t see an ounce of sadness in your expression, instead, you’re very serious with what you’re asking. And he won’t argue with that logic, if that’s what it takes to help you forget and spend more time with you.

“She never told me anything.” Your half closed eyes and head turned to the side signal Mingyu to keep talking. “If he confessed, I think she could like him back. They already act like a couple anyway.”

Mingyu realizes he went too far. You don’t say anything, but your shoulders slouch before you grab your pajamas from the nightstand and lock yourself in the bathroom. That was definitely not what you wanted to hear. Shit.

“I hope they can finally realize they’re idiots.” When the door opens to reveal the loose but all too revealing clothes barely covering your body, Mingyu can almost hear all the air in his lungs escaping at once. “Are you getting in bed?”

Maybe it’s his mind playing sick games with him. You can’t possibly be asking him to slip under the covers with you and be calm about it. There’s a lot of things he can calmly face up to. The idea of laying down so close to the person who’s been making a mess of his every thought is not one of those.

Still, he follows suit with your not so indirect invite. He doesn’t want to make assumptions about you, about the situation, or about what you want, so he lets you take the lead for tonight. Trusting that you’ll show him what you need and believing that he can give it to you.

The both of you lay awkwardly side by side, facing the ceiling deep in thought. Only the breathing sounds and the way your arm grazes against his keep Mingyu’s senses in check. He feels like a highschooler having his first conversation with his crush. He can no longer be the cool, calm self he praised himself to be. So, he resorts to silence.

“Was he always like that? Ending relationships after realizing it’s not what he wants?” You turn in your place, facing him with those doe eyes of yours that always make him fold.

“If it makes you feel any better, I think it’s the girls that break up with him.” He mirrors your position, feeling better at the entire situation when he sees your smile at his comment.

“Good for them.”

There’s something in your gaze that makes Mingyu question if it’s worth it to be loyal to his friend. Though that moral code must’ve been broken already, there’s still a line, no matter how thin, he hasn’t crossed yet. Emphasis on ‘he’, because he can never be sure what’s your next move.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He dares to ask again.

Mingyu’s hyper aware of how close you are. How you shift a bit closer to him as you think your answer. He thought the clothes he was wearing were okay to sleep in, but his bodily temperature keeps rising at the thought of you.

“I still feel a bit stupid.” He can’t stand hearing you talk about yourself like that, but he doesn’t get to argue. You shut his mouth closed, placing your index finger on the center of his lips before he can utter a word. A touch so innocent he immediately feels bad at how electrifying it felt. “My friends warned me that his relationships never lasted. And I guess I wanted to see it for myself. Have the empirical data, if you will.”

He sees your gaze go down from his eyes, and your hand goes down with it to whatever caught your attention. He swallows hard, waiting for just one signal. The chain around his neck tugs at the back, and he realizes you’re inspecting the little charm hanging from it.

“It’s not like I was in love with him.” Every word you say feels like fire on his end. “He was fun at first. That’s what I liked about him.”

You play with Mingyu’s chain like it’s second nature. Like you don’t realize your hand’s dangerously close to his chest, about to feel the beating of his heart growing stronger each second.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” That makes your eyes go up again, eyelashes fluttering so close he could count each one of them.

“I get why you didn’t, you’re a good friend. And I think it was better for me to realize on my own, if that makes you feel any better.” The smile that grows on him matches yours perfectly.

“I don’t know how much of a good friend I am anymore.” The honesty slips out of him under your scanning stare. “I’m here after all, aren’t I?”

Mingyu should feel guilty. He left the bar to go after you without so much of a second thought, leaving his supposed best friend to deal with everything on his own. That’s how much he cares about you. His need for you overflows into every area of his life, making the guilt disappear into the stream of things that don’t matter. You’re not taken anymore. And, deep down, he knows Jungkook’s going to be fine. He doesn’t care about you even a fraction of how much Mingyu does.

He’s still deep in thought when he feels your hand going up the side of his jaw. Your icy fingers contrast against his fiery skin, driving him to lean into your touch. He’d close his eyes and let you do anything you wanted if it wasn’t for the intoxicating force of your gaze.

The irrational part of his brain doesn’t let him stop you as your face gets closer so his. You’re slowly testing the waters, seeing if he’ll back down, but Mingyu’s quicker, and leans down the last millimeters to finally connect.

Your lips melt against his with a soft sigh, and everything stills for a moment. Enveloped with the tenderness of your touch, he feels you hazily pressing further against him, unsurely yearning for more.

But the rational part of his brain, the one that tugs on the last strand of morale he has, retrieves his head from your electrifying kiss.

“We shouldn’t—” Mingyu regrets it instantly at the sight of your saddened eyes. But he knows it’s for the best. He couldn’t live with himself if you weren’t sure.

“You don’t want to?” The way your hand flies away from his personal space almost makes him take it and put it back where it belongs.

“I do.” He sounds desperate. He needs you to understand. “But you should see how you feel when you have a clear mind.”

A thousand thoughts rush through your mind, visibly turning your expression soft again. Mingyu offers his arm for you to lay on, the most outlandish peace offering he can make without losing his mind first.

“Okay.” Your soft voice reverberates up his arm as you lay your head on his relaxed bicep. “Do you want to leave?”

He couldn't begin to imagine any dimension in the multiverse where he'd choose to stay away from the featheriness of your skin against his. “Do you want me to leave?”

“I asked you first.” Your light chuckle heals the worry beginning to creep up on Mingyu. In the future, he'll make sure you never doubt him again.

“I don't want to leave.”

The way your smile keeps making a blank slate of his brain should worry Mingyu. But he's never felt this way before, and if there's a chance, however big or small, that you could feel the same way, he won't go back.

“And I want you to stay.”

The morning sun rays bleed through the flimsy curtain, illuminating the otherwise plain motel room in a golden light. You feel warm all around, wrapped in Mingyu’s arms instead of the bedsheets that sometime along the night seem to have fallen to the floor.

But even in the confinement of Mingyu’s backhug, you feel free. What has been dragging your spirit through the floor finally cut from your life. The previous night’s events faded to a distant memory as soon as you laid your head in Mingyu’s chest and drifted to the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.

You don’t dare turn in his hold, afraid to wake him up and make him face the day. That’s the one thing you haven’t been able to dust off since you opened your eyes. The guilt.

Maybe for you, cutting Jungkook out of your life was the best decision, but Mingyu was his friend first, and last night, for whatever reason, he chose you. He chose to comfort the whiny girl that dumped his boyfriend instead of his best friend since they were in the womb.

The morning with him feels like sunrises on the beach, like a warm cup of coffee on the coldest day, like being trapped in an infinite bear hug. It feels like hope. And the guilt from wanting it all could consume you whole just like the need for him.

Mingyu must have mind reading superpowers, because his arms tighten around you before the guilt overwhelms you, easily forgetting it all at the feeling of his breath on your neck.

Neither of you say anything, sharing the comfortable silence, relishing being in each other’s arms. You don’t stop him when he tangles his legs with yours, feeling him everywhere from head to toe. You let your hands caress his forearms as they drift dangerously close to your lower belly.

It’s wrong. It’s definitely wrong on some moral level. Borderline evil even. It’s too soon, and you need to understand what you’re feeling before moving forward with whatever this is. This that feels so nice, so right, but so wrong.

Mingyu doesn’t seem to be having the same moral dilemma that’s running around your mind anymore. The hardness you feel pressing against your inner thigh followed by a gasp that spreads goosebumps all across your back confirming your theory.

In the morning haze, in the limbo between days where time doesn’t run and actions don’t have consequences, you give into his infectious desire. The agreement you made the night before flying out the window as soon as a fire ignites all across your body.

You purposely grind against him, the indecent action causing your face to feel even warmer. A low moan gets caught in Mingyu’s throat at the feeling of your ass against his morning wood, one hand gripping your hip to keep you in place.

“What are you doing?” His raspy voice sends another fire down your body, making you squirm in his grip.

“Nothing.” You feign innocence, pretending to straighten your posture but ultimately pressing yourself harder against his chest. “You don't like it?”

The space between your bodies is crushed impossibly tighter until all you can feel are his muscles tensing in his search for you. The barrier you left standing the night before, demolished with little care as he sighs to your ear.

“It's not that, princess,” every bit of skin Mingyu touches works like a button to make you need him more and more, “we should wait.”

You'd agree with him if it wasn't for the elastic of your sleeping shorts stretching to fit his wandering hand. It’s a timid action, one that contradicts his words but only gets encouraged by your gasp. These aren’t the hands that held you close when you were broken, no, these are the ones that felt you shiver pretending to teach you to play pool, the ones that pushed you against him in the dimness of the club. The ones you crave with your whole body.

At your reaction, he drifts further down, playing with the hem of your panties so painfully slow the grip of your hand on his forearm grows stronger with each second he doesn't fully touch you. His lips graze your shoulder, trying to contain himself from kissing every inch he can reach.

When he flattens on your pelvis, pressing you against his faltering hips, you swear your whimper drives him to not so innocently thrust behind you. The room is impossibly hot, but you don’t care, nothing matters other than your need to feel him inside.

Your mouth opens, hoping to work enough to plead for him, but a loud knock on your door startles you both out of the embrace.

If the earth it’s going to swallow you at any point in life, you hope it’s right then and there. Your panties are uncomfortably sticky as your embarrassed gaze connects with Mingyu, the both of you speechless with guilt. The most awkward second ever before another knock echoes into the room.

“Tell Jennie I’ll be out in a second? I promised her we’d go out for breakfast together.”

The embarrassment doesn’t let you look at him a second longer before you lock yourself in the bathroom. Maybe a splash of cold water on your face can help you not look like you just got cockblocked.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

However Mingyu thought his morning would go, the reality was far from his imagination, though it felt far better. He wouldn't mind waking up next to you again, heating up your skin with his touch until you whimper for him.

The sight of you, just woken up and shy at the boldness of what you just did, puts a sheepish smirk on his face. He almost forgets the wrongness of everything. But the decision he made, selfish and long forgotten, quickly comes back to bite him in the ass as he opens the door.

“Wow, this is a nice sight!” Jungkook's face morphs into sarcastic shock as the door reveals a disheveled Mingyu.

“What are you doing here?” In all honesty, Mingyu didn’t think about his friend last night, deep down knowing he wasn’t going to be hurt for long.

“Are you her bodyguard now? I just want to talk about last night.” Jungkook attempts to take half a step into your room, but Mingyu immediately blocks the door.

“It’s not the time to get in my way, man.” The baseless threat doesn’t make Mingyu budge in the slightest, which pisses Jungkook off. The man’s eyes widen after scanning the state of the room. “Did you fuck her?”

“What?” Mingyu can't believe what he's hearing.

“I asked, Did. You. Fuck. Her?” Speaking each word with clenched teeth, Jungkook's voice bleeds anger.

“Why do you care?”

Jungkook barely lets him finish his question. “So you fucked her.”

The crude language puts a bitter taste in Mingyu's mouth. As if only the sex mattered and not everything else. Not that he comforted you at your weakest, that you opened up your heart to him, that you kissed him so softly he almost passed out. Mingyu can only hope the bathroom door miraculously becomes soundproof.

“Don't pretend to care about her now.” Never in his life has he talked to Jungkook this way, always afraid of what could happen to their friendship if he tried to put some sense into him. Then again, his actions never hurt someone Mingyu actually cared about.

“I bet you couldn’t wait for me to dump her.” The words spit out of Jungkook’s mouth like acid. “Eager to take on my leftovers.”

“Dude, I get that you're mad, but you're getting out of line.” The peacemaker in Mingyu takes over —it’s either that or a punch in the face, and tries to get his friend back in the hallway.

“I’m not mad!” He gasps with a hand to his chest. “Just shocked, that's all. Didn’t even let a day pass.” Venom coats every word he says, justifiably betrayed by the one friend he thought he could always count with.

“I didn’t mean for it to come to this,” Mingyu admits quietly, “I wasn’t supposed to care.”

There’s nothing as Jungkook processes those words. A tense second that becomes an infinite one, a void sucking every apology out of his mouth. Mingyu would pay millions to know what’s going on in his friend’s head. He could always tell what he was feeling even when he shut everyone off. But he was never the one causing his anger.

“I can g—”

“I’ll take the bus home with Cathy.” Is all Jungkook says.

His blank face waits for Mingyu to nod before walking away with no second thoughts. Out of the million outcomes he thought for this conversation, Mingyu never thought he’d be the one left speechless. But they both clearly need some time alone before going back to being roommates, before talking like two grown adults and resolving this.

It’s the sound of a door closing just meters behind him that takes him back to the room, your room.

Mingyu doesn’t know what to do to shield you from the hurt. He’s tired of simply being there to comfort you in the aftermath. He can’t stand the sight before him, your lips turn downwards trying to get a hold of your feelings. He can see it all, the process of all the emotions going through your brain, until your face settles to a serious expression.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that.” Mingyu stays at the threshold of the door, not sure if you’d still want him as company.

“Don’t be. I’m glad I did.” You stay put in place, half a step from the messy bed, looking everywhere but at him. “At least I don’t have to feel guilty anymore.”

Guilt. That’s what he noticed when he gained consciousness and felt you tense in his hold. “About what happened earlier—”

“I’m sorry about that,” you interrupt him in his hesitation, “you said you didn’t want to and I crossed the line.”

“It’s not—” Your lips part in surprise as your eyes fly to his. “I—shit, I don’t want you to think I’m only being nice for something in return.”

“You should be glad I don’t think of you that way.” It’s a weird feel of rejection, the one in your heart as you start picking up your things. A man says he doesn’t want to have sex after rubbing himself against you and fighting with your ex boyfriend. “We should pack, get ready to leave.”

“What do you think of me then?”

Mingyu standing leaning against the doorframe, following your every move with his eyes, makes you stumble upon every possible obstacle on your way. Even with your gaze elsewhere, you can feel him watching your every move.

“I think you’re a good man that lacks a sense of urgency.” Unfortunately, you didn’t bring much stuff on the trip, and you’re getting to the end of things to take your mind off of Mingyu. “Are you going to stare at me all day?”

“I like you.” Mingyu’s sure about a lot of things, but at the weight lifting from his shoulders, the way you stop at his words and how you wait for him to continue, he’s certain he’s never felt like this before. “I’m sorry if that's weird and wrong to say, but I do.”

“I—” There’s no way to describe it, how your mind clears of any reasonable thought the second those words escape Mingyu’s lips.

“You don’t have to say anything. Like I said last night, I want you to figure out how you feel on your own time. I’ll be here, you can count on me. I’m not going anywhere.”

His assurance helps. He somehow always knows how to help you, what to say, how to act.

Before you know it, you’re face to face with him, his warmth embracing you as he tilts his head down, waiting for your next move. Your cheek lays softly on his chest after wrapping your arms around him, hugging him tightly, the only way you have to express your gratitude.

Warm air effortlessly fills your lungs, the scent of him coating every one of your senses as he replicates your hug. His arms feel right around you, as if you were meant to be like this forever, and you relax in his hold.

“Thank you.” Two simple words that mean so much more are the only thing you manage to utter, hoping he'll understand.

“Always.”

Some girls my friends met at the congress came to town and begged for us to take them to a club Do you want to come? It’s close to my place

As soon as you press send, you throw your phone at your bed on the other side of the room.

It’s been two weeks since the most eventful weekend of your life. Two weeks since you finally stood up for yourself and chose your well being for once. Two weeks since Mingyu started being one of the most important parts of your everyday life.

Those afternoons when he made you wonder if you actually fit in his friend’s life, when the thought of him would cause you an immediate headache, feel like a ghost of the past. You couldn’t imagine not being around him now, not receiving his ominous texts in the middle of the night after he finishes a random project for college that you don’t understand, or not seeing his face after class when he picks you up and rambles about how good his class was that day.

He promised he’d be there for you, waiting for you to see how you feel about him without expecting anything in return. And every day that passes, the hurt and confusion fades away bit by bit, and a new, stronger, unexplored, feeling grows in your heart.

You don’t know what compelled you to invite Mingyu out of nowhere. You’re fully dressed, about to leave and with your friends already waiting on your building’s front door, but something at the back of your mind itched with a potent need to see him. Your fingers clicked on his contact and texted him before you could realize what you were doing.

It’s not two minutes later that your phone vibrates with a new notification. Your skin crawls with the combined anxiety of wanting to see him but also not wanting to see him at all. The usual two feelings that fight to take over every time you think of him.

You’re quick to run out your apartment before your friends come up and drag you out themselves. With your unlocked phone in hand, Mingyu’s name lights up your screen.

Sure. Text me address. I’ll meet you there.

The simplicity of his texts always makes you chuckle, embarrassingly smitten by his short sentences. You quickly text him the name and address before hopping off the elevator and joining your friends in the cold weather in which you’re not meant to be wearing the club clothing you chose.

You’d be a liar if you didn’t admit you were nervous to see Mingyu. The change came without warning. After getting used to him checking up on you, learning your coffee order and your class schedule, the anticipation started taking over you. Your eyes look for him around campus, your feet flee out of your classroom knowing he’s going to be there waiting for you.

You try to distract yourself when you get too in your mind about it, about him. It’s a difficult new kind of occurrence you’re not sure how to navigate, so you resort to acting nonchalant about it. That’s why, when he arrives and your friends make eyes at you, you don’t let the subject go further than admitting you invited him. It’s a normal thing for people to invite their friends to hang out!

But no matter how hard you try, your eyes don’t stop wandering to the bar, where Mingyu’s forgotten his quest to get another round of drinks and is talking to the most graceful and gorgeous woman alive.

Of course, Mingyu chose tonight of all nights to look like a prince coming to the rescue. A fitted black shirt that even with the lack of light inside the club managed to highlight his build. You almost fainted when he locked eyes with you across the room and smiled walking all the way to you.

And you’d caught that girl’s eyes glued to him when he first entered the club and greeted you all. As soon as he took one step away from you to walk to the bar, the girl unhooked herself from your group and followed him.

“I wonder what’s taking so long with the drinks," You’re barely processing your words as they leave your mouth. As if you haven’t been policing the interaction since it started.

“Yeah, did he…” Jennie’s voice trails out before she can finish, following the line of sight you basically burned in the air after so many stares. A small smirk flashes through her before she mumbles, “Oh.”

Now there’s four more pairs of eyes witnessing why you’re making a fool out of yourself.

“Guess he found something else to do.” Still digging your own grave, you can’t stop making stupid comments.

Jennie and Nayeon exchange a look you’re too busy to catch, while you make sure your empty drink is still… empty. Yeah, the very interesting plastic cup in your hand. Definitely the most interesting sight you can be staring at. The cheap cocktail you thought could ease out the anxiety, and now that the little effect it had left your body, all you can do is laugh at yourself.

“Who is she anyway?” You didn’t even catch her name before she jumped at the chance to get Mingyu alone.

“We presented right after her.” Your friend’s voice barely reaches you over the loud music, and on top of that, you don’t really care to know much about her anyway.

“Right…”

It’s not a big deal. What else did you expect? That he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off you like the last time you were in a club together? That you’d feel him all around you again as he felt you up with everyone watching? Stupid. You got too comfortable, took him for granted, and he got tired.

“Are you okay?” Nayeon materializes by your side, her hand on your arm steering your eyes back to her.

“He can do whatever he wants! I really don’t care.” Seeing how they can always tell what’s going on with you, of course they read through the lines.

The other two girls you came with look confused before they dare to speak up.

“We tried telling her that he was off limits," One says as the other confesses, “We thought you two were together.”

The girls’ confusion only fuels yours. You really didn’t want to think about it further before, just in case, but it gets you wondering. “W—why would you think that?”

“We just saw you talking after you presented," The blonde one giggles before her friend adds. “You guys looked cute!”

How did they get to that conclusion after the simplest interaction? Were you that obviously nervous? Was the prickling of your skin visible when he stood too close by your side? It’s become the norm for you two to act this way, the invisible skinship boundary long broken.

Deep down, you know there’s no reason to doubt him. You want to be weary of him, find one single flaw to use as an excuse to not like him, but it’s pointless. Mingyu’s never proven to be anything other than supportive. He’s been so patient with you, the deeper feelings for him developed almost on their own. No warning.

Even before breaking up with Jungkook, Mingyu was always present. Since that first day he found you crying, he made sure you had company, made sure you didn’t get too in your head and helped you have a good time. He was there for you before you even realized you needed it.

You took him for granted for too long, and now he has a pretty girl in front of him showing clear signs of attraction, all while you get scared texting him.

You've been so stupid, so blind to what you had in front of you, that now you're losing it, seeing it disappearing from your life with your own eyes.

The charged stares you've been sparing them must've made their way into Mingyu’s sixth sense, because he finally unglues his eyes from the girl and connects them with yours. You know you have no right to be jealous, you two are nothing, just two people with a very complicated relationship.

As if he knew everything going through your mind, Mingyu smirks your way. He fucking smirks. The twist of his lips cause a chain reaction from your hanging jaw down to your insides becoming a roller coaster. You barely hear your friends saying they’re going to the restroom, choosing to stay and challenge Mingyu.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

When he got your text inviting him out, Mingyu was sitting on the couch that had seen it all happen. Jungkook, just beside him, easily took a peek at the notification that lit up his friend's mood.

“Is that her?”

Even if they’ve resolved the bad blood between them, Mingyu couldn’t help to hide the reality of his feelings from Jungkook. “Yeah," He told him after replying to your text.

Mingyu could count with one hand the few times you had dared to text him first these past few weeks. Seeing your name pop up, inviting him out, was thrilling.

It's been no secret that every time Mingyu disappeared to go somewhere unannounced, he was going with you. Jungkook knew it, but it was time he encouraged it.

“Dude, if you like each other, I'm not looking to get in between," Jungkook assured with his eyes back to the tv in front of them.

“Isn’t it weird?” Mingyu tested the waters, checking if he was hallucinating the support.

“It’s only weird if you make it weird," Jungkook shrugged, as if it were that simple.

The situation is weird. And maybe it will always be weird.

Mingyu started making up this fantasy in his head, where, in the future, you’ve finally let him in and he can love you the way you deserve. One where you can look back at the past and laugh with that blinding toothy smile of yours, with all the hurt being just a distant memory. But before you two get to that point, Mingyu will make sure nothing gets in the way of your happiness ever again. And he foolishly hopes you find it with him.

“Is she okay?” Jungkook’s question took Mingyu out of his thoughts. “I’ve been thinking if I should apologize or not.”

“She’s fine,” at that moment, Mingyu realized that maybe his best friend is better at hiding how he feels than he thought, “but an apology wouldn’t hurt.”

Having long conversations was never their strong suit, so the topic ended there, with Jungkook deep in thought and Mingyu getting up to change clothes.

Something drove him to try and be more presentable for you. The last time you two went to a club together, he almost gave up everything right then and there. Now that there are no barriers between the two of you, he won’t hold back at your advances, he won’t freeze if you dance close to him. At least that was his initial goal.

When he arrived at the club, Mingyu had to pause as soon as he saw you across the room. The smile you showed your friend after something she said illuminated the whole room, leaving nothing else in front of his eyes but you.

He greeted all your friends as politely as he could without straying his eyes off you. His hand traveled itself onto the small of your back, keeping you intoxicatingly close to him as best he could. And he didn’t want to leave your side, but maybe breathing an air free of your perfume would help him think clearly, he thought.

Talking to one of the girls you were with, Mingyu partly feels bad for already forgetting her name. The overworked bartender’s taking too long to prepare all the drinks, and he has no other choice than to entertain the girl.

Answering her questions gets harder and harder with the music blasting, and as she places her hand on his arm to get closer to him, Mingyu can feel the interaction being under someone’s scrutinizing eyes.

Is this all in his head? Are you really standing with your arms crossed and the cutest frown ever on your forehead, almost killing the girl in front of him with your stare? The corner of his mouth lifts autonomously at the thought of you not liking him flirting with another person.

He hasn’t seen this side of you, the jealous and slightly possessive one. And even if you’re nothing more than friends, he loves it. He loves the way you squint when you lock eyes, how you shrug when he doesn’t back down. It’s easy for him to excuse himself and walk towards you again.

At the sight of him, you turn your back on Mingyu, pretending to be dancing alone. So, he has no other choice but to stand behind you and ask in your ear. “Something on your mind?”

Your back tenses against his chest, but you don’t move away, allowing Mingyu to wrap his arms around your waist to keep you close. With your friends suddenly nowhere in sight, he interlocks your fingers while in his hold, helping you relax even if you’re still pretending to be mad.

“You took your time.” The initially suffocating sea of people now feels protective, working like a barrier between your bodies pressed tightly together and the outside world. “Having fun?”

“I am now," Mingyu’s lips graze the side of your face as they lit up in another smirk, growing goosebumps all across your body. “How about you?”

Somehow, being like this doesn’t feel weird. You’ve had Mingyu’s arms wrapped around you so many times now that they easily mold to your figure. There really is only one difference, one that none of you dare speak up but washes over your every interaction.

“I was thinking of going home already.” You look down at your hands tangled in one, fearing that Mingyu can notice at any time how butterflies erupt in your stomach at every word he purrs right in your ear. “Not much to do here.”

“I can take you," His choice of words halts your breath, but you remember.

Untangling Mingyu’s hands from yours, you turn around in his arms to face him, regretting instantly as soon as your eyes connect again.

“You should stay. You looked like you were having fun.” That makes Mingyu chuckle, and an embarrassed warmness bursts inside you at the sound.

“I didn’t think you were the jealous type, princess.” And you didn’t think he was the type to tease you in public, but life takes you to unthinkable roads sometimes.

You scoff as an excuse to take your eyes off him for a second. “Jealous, huh? You’re funny.”

In an intent to get away from his menacingly broad body, your hands take the unconscious decision to push his chest away. But you don’t have the true will to do it, or the strength. He’s too big, too muscly for you to move, and he traps your hands against him, against the sheerest shirt ever that lets you feel every muscle tense under your touch.

“I’d like to think I can make a girl laugh sometimes.” He’s all you can see, covering every spot in your vision with his unerasable teasing smirk.

“Yeah, I saw that.” At the roll of your eyes, there’s no denying that you’re jealous anymore. Do you really care if he knows anyway?

“Oh, you did? Controlling.”

“I’m not controlling! You can do whatever you want, I won’t get in your way.” If he wants to flirt with an emotionally available girl after the infinite amount of time he waited for you, you can’t stop him. You’ll take your feelings to the grave.

Something brews in Mingyu’s mind at your rebuttal. “You won’t?”

“No.”

For the first time in forever, Mingyu willingly unclasps one of his hands from yours, “And if I do this?”

Mingyu’s fingers creep up your neck and get a hold of your chin, titling it up until you have no other choice but to look him in the eye. He waits for your answer, as if you’d ever say no. As soon as you nod, giving him the okay, another smirk is the only warning you get.

Your lips, meant to be pressed against his forever, part with a sigh as Mingyu's arms wrap around your waist. The world around you, with frantic music and people moving at lightspeed, fades to nothing in his embrace. You move along Mingyu’s soft lips naturally, letting your heart convey your feelings through the kiss.

The memory of that last kiss you dared give him all those days ago can’t compare to this one. There’s no hesitation this time, no guilt restraining you from following your true desire. Nothing outside your bubble really matters as your hands travel up his chest to keep his head in place.

His hair feels soft between your fingers as you push yourselves together closer and closer. You never want anything else in life, just kissing and kissing Mingyu until your lungs give out. It’s unfortunate that you can’t.

“Let me take you home," He gasps with your lips just millimeters away.

Your stomach twists and turns with anticipation. “Okay,” barely a whisper accompanies your nod, fearing the way your voice could come out if you said more.

With his hand in yours, walking the moonlit streets in swift steps and giggles, any worries you had slip away with the wind. The feeling of his lips linger on yours every second it passes, every breath you take, every step forward until you stop at an intersection and Mingyu pulls you into him again.

The walk blends between kisses and hand squeezes to check if you’re in a dream or not. You never want to back away from his hold ever again, but as your building materializes in front of you, you're forced to take your hand off the hem of his shirt.

The elevator’s wall hits your back as soon as the automatic doors let you in, barely giving you time to push your floor’s button before Mingyu’s over you again. His mouth takes yours with a hunger that grows every second you’re not inside your apartment. He’s losing control, succumbing to his desires the more you show your want for him.

By some way, your tangled bodies manage to reach your door, though Mingyu’s hands refusing to stop going over your hips and waist are the challenge to overcome. Your fingers tremble trying to turn the key the right way, your nervous system focusing on the lips kissing every inch of the side of your neck he can reach and his fingers slipping underneath the fabric of your top.

As soon as you close the door behind you, the reality closes in on you. With Mingyu’s arms wrapping around your waist again, the bag you forgot you were holding dropping onto the floor with a thud, and the bright lights in your apartment making everything clear.

Mingyu notices your sudden hesitation and stands before you, worried eyes studying you, looking for any sign to tell him what's happening in your mind.

“I made you get in a fight with your best friend," Your reminder is like a dagger against the silence.

“Is that what's bothering you?” His eyes find yours and understand immediately. “We're fine,” He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “he actually encouraged me to come tonight.”

Your eyes widen with hope, leaning into his touch when he doesn't retrieve his hand from the side of your face. “Did you guys—”

“We talked,” Mingyu's voice explains so softly, one wouldn't think he was just making you gasp with that same mouth on yours, “and I told him he should apologize to you.”

Standing in the middle of your entrance hallway, you feel stupid for even bringing that up. He wouldn't be here with you if he felt guilty. He wouldn't be cupping your face in his hands, making you look up to him to find the glimmer in his eyes outshining every light source in the room.

“And you’re sure about this?” What ‘this’ means, you’re not sure either.

“I've never been more sure about anything.” Your breath hitches at his answer, your body noticeably frozen as you look for a non-existent lie in his eyes. “Maybe we should take things slow, let you figure out what you want.”

Before he can back away from your personal space, you react. “No, no, I want this too. I want you.”

Those words coming out of your mouth combined with your hands gripping his shirt to keep him in place quickly make Mingyu regret his previous statement. You're so close, too close to him, saying you want him with your eyes dark and wide.

Mingyu’s hands stay on you, caressing the side of your face as if he was debating whether to give in and kiss you again or do the rational thing. Yours, instead, find the first button at the end of the all too well fitting shirt Mingyu’s wearing, and start unbuttoning it one by one.

“I should take you out on a real date first," Mingyu maintains with a sigh, but not stopping you in your quest.

“I personally think,” at his unmoving body, you take a step closer, with your hands against his chest not daring to sneak under the welcoming fabric, “we’re past that, don’t you think?”

For a second, Mingyu thinks you’ll be able to feel the rapid beating of his heart, stronger with each second your hands lay on his chest. Rationality is losing the fight against his desire.

“Just making sure this isn’t a rebound situation,” Mingyu blurts, even if he doesn’t really care about it for himself. He’d take whatever you give him.

“You aren’t a rebound. This isn’t a revenge plot.” You think for a second before you continue, “You saw me cry way too many times and were there for me at my weakest. You make me feel seen, wanted, and getting to know you has made my life better in ways I could’ve never imagined.”

Your words go through Mingyu's ears and right into his bloodstream, getting warmer and warmer the closer you get. His hands go down your body, encouraging you to move forward until your chests touch.

“I needed you even before I knew what I needed.” You can sense the tears beginning to build up, but you push through. He has to know. “I know what I want now, and it’s you.”

“If this is a dream, I never wanna wake up,” every word Mingyu says comes with a widening smile.

You chuckle, wrapping your arms around his neck with confidence, “I can assure you, it's not.”

As if you've been getting chased by your feelings all this time, putting it into words and letting it all out works, and your brain stops racing. You can finally breathe, think, see.

“So, was that a no about the date?” As always, Mingyu manages to make you chuckle again, and it reverberates all across both your bodies. Every shiver of his, you feel, with the minimal skin to skin contact against his barely uncovered chest and the tiniest top you found to put on.

“You can take me on a date another day. Now, I want something else.” You don't know where all this confidence is coming from, but seeing the shock in Mingyu's eyes, it only grows. “You okay with that?”

“I’ll give you anything you want.”

The space between your faces charges with electricity as you take in his words. An unconscious bite on your lower lip pulls his gaze down, egging him to close the space slowly. You almost don’t register his advance, focusing on the part of his lips that were just on yours minutes ago.

There’s nothing more to be said, no invisible walls to tear down, only you and him and the pull between you, pushing you closer until your breaths mix. After all the obstacles you overcame, and the bumps that lead you to where you are now, there’s no more time to waste.

When your heads meet again, your tingling lips mold against Mingyu’s for the thousandth time, worried about nothing and wanting it all. And he doesn’t hold back either. His hands on your waist venture up inside your top, feeling your back tense at his touch as the fabric crumples up, leaving more of you exposed to him.

You can’t hide your craving for him any longer. You follow his rhythm eagerly, making a mess of his hair between your fingers and pushing him further against you. Every touch of his makes you gasp, and he takes the opportunity to kiss down your jaw and neck. His hands and lips everywhere.

“Might as well just take this off.” Mingyu’s lips print a smirk on the sensitive skin of your neck before pulling back. You get what he means immediately as he tugs on your top, taking it off you as soon as you put your arms up.

His hands feel your chest up to his liking, getting to know the places that make you sigh into his mouth. Every touch of his fingers makes that spot light up like fire, and every sound you make encourages Mingyu more and more.

Your hands sneak under his opened shirt, feeling the firmness of his chest directly elicits a groan from Mingyu, making you shiver as you slip the fabric down his arms.

Your living room becomes a cliché mess of scattered clothing before you direct the both of you to your bedroom. You barely have time to drink in Mingyu’s body before you’re falling with your back on the mattress, chest to chest again, bare against one another, free of any fabric in between.

Mingyu slots between your legs effortlessly, a low moan coming from him as his hardening length grinds softly on the crevice between your limbs. His golden skin that was the star of your every dream, finally at your reach, soft and warm under the pads of your fingers.

“Gyu—” Words choke up on your throat as you feel his lips wrapping around one of your nipples.

“You're gorgeous,” His lips against your chest makes you halt your movements, mind focused solely on him, “so pretty, only for me.”

It's almost as if he was talking to himself, but you moan at every compliment, arching your back for more of him. And he loves it. Loves the way you react to the stream of thoughts that run around his brain every time he looks at you.

“Fuck!” The curse leaves you both in unison when Mingyu finds his digits against your core.

“I barely even touched you and you're already ready for me?” Mingyu feels your reaction to his words first hand as a wave of arousal hits you.

“Fuck you,” you gasp and he chuckles, kissing down your torso until he’s facing your core.

“I'll take care of you, don't worry, baby.” His breath fans at your wet folds, so close to where you want him but still teasing you with his fingers.

You’re about to fight back when you feel him teasing at your opening, his eyes entranced by how ready you are for him. All the anticipation, the tension between you from the past weeks, culminating at once at this very moment.

The slickness leaking out of you from all the kissing and groping makes it easy for him to set the pace. Mingyu’s fingers stretch your insides with expertise, as if he learned every spot of yours to touch to have you squirming.

The torturously slow thrusts of his fingers drive you crazy, curling and hitting exactly where you need them before he’s pulling back. You don’t hold your sounds back, your every reaction letting Mingyu know how good he makes you feel.

“That’s it, baby,” His low voice sets fire to the blood rushing through your veins, and your walls clamp harder around his fingers.

Your knuckles turn white as you grip the sheets below you, and Mingyu’s other hand has to hold your thighs apart so you don’t close them around his head.

“Mingyu—shit!” His lips leave a trail of breathy kisses on your inner thigh, trying to help you relax and take him in, but ultimately turning you on further. “Gyu, wait.”

“I love that you’re calling me that.” He listens and stops thrusting, leaving his fingers to fully fit inside you.

“I need you.” You’re not embarrassed to say what you want. Not with him.

“But you have me?” He tries to tease, but you’re ahead of him already and immediately correct yourself.

“Inside.” His fingers adjust themselves inside you, almost making you forget what you were asking for. “I need you to fuck me.”

Mingyu chuckles at your neediness, but you know he wants it just as bad. His rock hard length draws your attention as he stands up and retrieves his wet digits from you, leaking and ready to split you in half.

There’s a second of hesitation as he looks at you splayed on the bed, as ready for him as he is for you. You recognize the train of thought going through him and stretch your arm to open the drawer below your nightstand, where you keep condoms just in case.

It’s sinful, the sight of Mingyu rolling down the condom as his eyes rake up and down your body. When he kneels on the mattress, fitting like a glove between your legs, it takes another kiss of his on each of your spent legs for you to realize that what’s happening is real.

Caged between both of his arms, his hands holding his weight on both sides of your head, your legs wrap around his waist and push him inside you, at last.

His length fits inside you, opening up your walls to mold to his shape as you both moan.

Your hips collide as he hits your deepest parts. “Being inside you is gonna kill me.” You can feel the twitching of his cock deep inside you. He paused to let you get used to his size, but the last thing you want to do is wait.

“I’m gonna kill you if you don’t move.”

You’ve learned teasing him works wonders, and as soon as those words leave your lips, he’s complying with what you ask of him. “Whatever my princess wants.”

Whatever thoughts you had, they fade at the drag of his length deliciously making you his with each thrust. Deep and slow, he lets you feel everything he has to give before almost pulling out.

The skin of his back becomes the victim of your scratches, your nails digging into his tense muscles with every grind of his hips. But no matter what you do, how you touch him, how loudly you moan, his pace remains at the same torturing speed.

“Relax, baby.” A hand caresses the side of your face, and you realize you’d shut your eyes closed at the feeling of him pushing inside you.

Mingyu lowers his head, flushing your chests together again as he kisses you softly, matching the pace of his thrusts with his tongue tangling with yours. He drinks every sound you make, as they are only for him, and lowers his hand down your torso until it meets your connected cores.

Your sensitive clit feels like fire under the touch of his fingers, circling around it to help you ease up the tension. “That’s it, baby, taking me so well.”

Everywhere he reaches becomes your new favorite place for him to touch. From your lips, down to your cunt, and all the way inside you, everywhere now has his name written. You’re his.

The pulsing of your walls around him doesn’t cease, becoming quicker and harder the more he continues with the slow pace. Your insides wait for every intoxicating thrust as if starved of him, craving everything he gives you and more.

His lips move on yours, parted and unable to work, mumbling praise you don’t get to hear as every one of your senses focuses on the fire inside you threatening to burst. Mingyu’s hips falter, having trouble thrusting inside you as you tighten impossibly tighter around him.

Your vision turns white as your orgasm explodes without so much as a warning. Your legs tremble around Mingyu’s pistoning hips, thrusting endlessly searching for his release.

Mingyu’s broad body falls limp on you as his length twitches, coming inside the condom with a groan while your walls hug him tight.

You lay under him happily, a smile on your face as you stare at the ceiling. He feels warm all around you, a feeling you could get used to. Mingyu can’t resist it and kisses you again. He’ll take every opportunity he can get to feel your lips on his.

“What's on your mind?” He asks, eyes locking in to yours as he slips out from you before attacking your lips again.

You both smile in the kiss before he stands up to discard the used condom and put his boxers back on. “Just thinking where you can take me on our date.”

He turns around with a glowing smile. “You’re thinking about that already?”

The way he lays down on your bed with you, naturally wrapping you in his arms and pulling you to him, feels like a dream come true.

“Of course, baby, I always think ahead.” You note the way he blushes when you use that nickname on him and snuggle against him.

Listening to Mingyu’s steady breathing and heartbeat under your ear, drifting to sleep has never been easier.

The smell of freshly grounded coffee fills the air around the café Mingyu picked. A cozy new place, lighted with yellowy light bulbs and with a space designated to read books you can borrow from the shelves covering the walls. It opened a few weeks ago in his neighborhood and he’s been insisting you try it out together since.

You’ve been on countless dates with him already, but you still feel nervous having him sit by your side in the booth. Still get embarrassed when he asks for a big smoothie with two straws for you both.

You don’t see a future where you don’t get nervous around him, but he’s always there. A future without him wouldn’t be life at all. And the best thing is, Mingyu feels the same way.

“Are you sure they’re coming?” You ask as your eyes drift to the glass door for the tenth time in the past five minutes.

“I promise they are!” Minguy takes your jaw in his fingers to make you look at him. “Remember to not say anything about the apartment. He'll as her when he's ready”

“What are you talking about?” You ask, feigning cluelessness, and Mingyu chuckles before giving you a peck.

Detaching your lips is always the hardest chore. But after a few awkward instances where you let your kisses deepen in public, you both decided to control yourselves, even in a secluded booth like the one you’re currently in.

Mingyu’s eyes light up watching the street from the window you’re sitting against, and you turn around to see the people you’ve been waiting for.

Jungkook and Cathlyn walk inside the store holding hands and with matching smiles on their faces as they greet you. How Mingyu convinced them to go out on a double date with you still astonishes you, but you’re glad everything that happened could finally be put behind you.

It was hard at first, even after Jungkook apologized to you, you didn’t dare go inside their apartment for months until Mingyu moved in with you a few weeks ago.

As soon as they sit in front of you, the plan you’ve been scheming starts. Your eyes lock with Mingyu’s and he instantly realizes what you're about to do, but not even his hand squeezing your thigh under the table can stop you. “So, Jungkook, what are you going to do now that you live in the apartment alone?”

note: it's finally here!!!

thank you all for being so excited this past month and for reading this monster of a fic i somehow came up with.

if you reached the end, just know that i love you, and i'd love to hear your thoughts <3

#mingyu au #kvanity #keopihausnet #svthub #thediamondlifenetwork #seventeen au #mingyu angst #seventeen angst #mingyu smut #seventeen smut #mingyu fluff #seventeen fluff #mingyu x reader #seventeen x reader #mingyu imagine #seventeen imagine #mingyu fanfic #seventeen fanfic #ema.library

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