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stllmnstr · 4 months

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champagne problems: part one

pairing: jake sim x f reader

genre: enemies to lovers, rich kids au, fake dating au, college au, angst, fluff

part one word count: 15.6k

part one warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, family drama, a fatal case of second son syndrome

soundtrack: boom - dpr live / bad idea! - girl in red / blood on the floor - kuiper / calico - dpr ian / comme de garçons (like the boys) - rina sawayama / lust - chase atlantic

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The second son of a wealthy family, Jake Sim has gotten used to always standing in the shadow of his older brother. From grades to girls to talks of becoming future CEO of the Sim Corporation, he’s no stranger to coming in second place. So when an opportunity arises for Jake to finally have the one thing his brother can’t and best him once and for all, he knows he’d be a fool not to take it.

There are only two problems. The first is that the thing his brother wants so badly isn’t a thing at all. It’s you, semi-estranged daughter of the Sims’ closest and most long-standing business partner.

The second is that Jake Sim can’t fucking stand you.

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PART ONE

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Fingers wrapping around the stem of your wine glass, you sigh. Punctuality may have been a steep order for someone who you suspect is running dangerously low on both common sense and regard for others, but twenty minutes? Really?

Your eyes land on the obnoxiously ornate grandfather clock next to the hostess stand. In a restaurant with ceilings so high you can barely see them and a carefully curated ambience that practically screams old money, it blends right in. It also gives you an updated timeframe on your would-be date’s tardiness.

Scratch that – thirty minutes.

Pulling out your phone, the absence of any new notifications is almost as annoying as whatever threadbare excuse you’re sure your date will offer you when he arrives. Glancing at the door, it remains devoid of any new patrons. Or perhaps rather if he arrives.

You’re running near empty on both pinot noir and patience, and you use the distraction of your phone to make you seem a little less pathetic. As if this entire restaurant isn’t already privy to the fact that you’re actively being stood up.

Well, you think wryly, at least you look good doing it. The off white ensemble you selected for the evening is Chanel, and vintage, at that. Usually you wouldn’t pull out all the stops like this for something as flimsy as a first date, but men like James Sim have an eye for this kind of thing.

Four years your senior, he’s already carving out a name for himself at twenty-five. You suppose it is a little less impressive, though, when the name he was born with already carries a legacy of its own in the business world you usually do your very best to stay out of. Rumor has it he’s already a shoo-in for the next CEO of his father’s company. When nepotism is that blatant, you can’t do much but scoff and raise a glass to it.

Scrambling for something to do to make your wasted time pass a bit quicker, you search up the social media profile of your would-be date. Honestly, you doubt you would learn anything more substantial about him if he actually bothered to show up than you will from scanning over his feed. In your experience, men like that tend to make up for their success on paper by lacking an actual personality and any sort of self-awareness.

Gym selfie. Scroll. Gym selfie from a slightly different angle. Scroll. Dog photo. Pausing, you suppress a small smile. The dog in the picture is pretty cute, if nothing else. Zooming in slightly, your eyes crinkle at the way the dog’s tongue lolls out of its open mouth in a grin. Well, at least he’s got that going for him, you suppose. A cute dog is enough to bump any guy’s ranking up a few points in your book.

If James Sim is nothing but a sum of his social media profile, it’s not like you expected anything else. After all, this is the heir to the Sim Corporation, a golden boy that was born with a crown on his head and a gold spoon in his mouth. Everything he’s earned has been laid out for him in painstakingly placed steps. His entire life has been guided by a heavy hand and the knowledge that he would one day inherit everything that makes his family worth knowing.

You probably wouldn’t be too concerned with showing up to first dates on time, either. Especially since you doubt he’s ever been denied a second.

Tonight is nothing but a blip on a radar, you’re sure. Something for a secretary to schedule and him to notice a day or five late. Maybe if you’re lucky, someone on his team will send a consolatory bouquet once he does realize the mistake. He is still building his reputation, after all, and you could use a fresh set of flowers for your apartment.

With another slightly pitiful sigh and a final swig of wine, your glass is empty and your optimism is shot. A second glance at the clock says that thirty-eight minutes have now elapsed since your scheduled meeting time. And in your opinion, that’s thirty-nine too late for a first date.

Retrieving your coat from the back of your chair, you figure tonight will be remembered as nothing but a waste of a good outfit. Besides, you suppose forty minutes of aimless scrolling is ultimately less painful than the inevitable headache this date surely would have been had he bothered to actually show up.

Suddenly, you frown. You won’t complain if this date never actually happens, but you may end up with a slight problem. Although you haven’t been on the best of terms with your mother in a long time, tonight was meant to be the final bullet point on a list of favors you owe her.

As you pull your coat on, you consider the best way to frame the events of the evening. Lean into the whole ‘getting stood up’ thing in an effort to earn some sympathy points? Lay out the facts in their most basic form, timestamps included? Emphasize the fact that you waited long past the obligatory twenty minutes for him to actually show up? Or leave your message chain as it currently is, tell her nothing at all, and let her assume what she wants?

They’re all equally iffy, you think. Risky in their own regard.

Signing your name at the bottom of the check, you scribble in a generous tip for the waitress who did her best to check on you often without making it obvious that she knew you were expecting company that never arrived, expertly skirting that line between overbearing and empathetic. At least someone will go home happy, you think, adding an extra zero for good measure.

Exiting the restaurant, you decide to make it two people. James Sim may be a hotshot at his father’s company, but you’ll be damned before you let him ruin your evening. Before you order the Uber back to your place, you add an extra stop at your favorite sushi place. Takeout in the comfort of your own home will certainly be easier to enjoy than whatever Michelin-Star concoction you would have ordered here anyway, eaten in small bites between forced conversation topics, awkward pauses, and too long sips of wine.

And an hour later, you’re polishing off the last piece of an absolutely divine rainbow roll, wearing nothing but silk pajamas and a face mask, with old reruns of your favorite show playing on the TV when James Sim finally glances down at the Rolex on his wrist. He’s finally arrived at the tail end of a meeting that’s running so far behind schedule he has half a mind to just walk out of it. He would, too, if his father wouldn’t actually threaten his life for it.

It’s late, James realizes. Stupid late. So late that he won’t have the time or energy to do anything but pass out by the time he gets home, which really sucks, because he was genuinely looking forward to his date tonight–

“Fuck.”

All he can do is curse, even as the shocked faces of a concerning number of top executives turn to look at him all at the same time.

…

Jake Sim is about to fail his econ midterm.

It will be at least a week before grades are released, but he already knows it. He can already feel it in the way the questions start to swim in his mind, making less and less sense the more he turns them over, in the way his gut fills with dread as the minute hand of the clock at the front of the lecture hall ticks closer and closer to the testing time limit.

And it wouldn’t be that bad, if it weren’t his second time repeating this course.

Oh, his father is going to have an absolute field day with this one. Jake can practically hear it now.

“You failed your midterm? After already failing this course twice? You know, James was actually the top scoring student in his economic section. Dr. Jeong still mentions his term paper every time I see him at the university…”

And that’s if he’s in a good mood. Or rather, if things at the company are going well. Jake doesn’t even want to consider the comments he’ll be on the receiving end of if the news of his failure finds his father already agitated.

Exhaling, he gives his exam one final once-over, scanning for completion more than accuracy. His brain is so fried that he knows it’s of little use to him now. For his own sake, the best thing to do at this point is turn his test in and send a silent prayer to whoever might be listening on his way out the door.

Leaving the lecture hall behind him, Jake puts his phone out of airplane mode and frowns at the two notifications that pop up on his screen. The first is a missed call from his brother, and the second is a message from the same sender, requesting that he give him a call when he has the chance.

Considering that it’s neither his birthday nor a major holiday, Jake is more than a little confused. Regardless, he honors the request, pressing his phone to his ear as he begins the walk back to his apartment. Although it’s significantly less spacious than his childhood home, he finds it far more welcoming in more ways than one.

The outgoing call rings once, twice, three times. Jake is about to be annoyed at the missed connection, but his brother answers in the moments just before he’s sent to voicemail.

“Hey, Jake.” Shocking. He actually bothered to check the caller ID.

“Hey.” Jake’s voice is careful, guarded. It’s not like his personal life is of any importance to his older brother, but he’s not in the mood to answer any questions. He won’t give James any reasons to ask. “I saw your message.”

“Right.” Jake can hear the shuffle of other voices, scattered movements coming from the other line. James sounds busy. Just like always. Usually, that would usually mean he’s distracted. But Jake has the odd feeling that he has his brother’s undivided attention when James adds, “I have a favor to ask you.”

Immediately, Jake’s stomach drops. There are very few things in this world that are not within James Sim’s grasp, and even less that are within Jake’s, relatively speaking. Whatever it is, he must be desperate, if he’s willing to enlist the help of his little brother.

“Okay.” Jake’s voice betrays none of his sudden anxieties. “What is it?”

At least James spares him the agony of suspense. “You know ___, right?”

Jake frowns. Sure, he knows of you. Just like he has a vague idea of every one of his family’s business partners and their immediate kin. Particularly the ones that are the same age as him and attend the same university. But it’s not like he’s close with you, not like he’s ever had an actual conversation of any substance with you.

Especially since the minimal interactions the two of you have had did not leave Jake wanting more. The only child of parents whose last name is on the front of the most successful law firm within a thousand mile radius, you strike him as everything he’d expect you to be.

Spoiled. Entitled. Vapid. Out of touch with any version of reality that doesn’t consist of you getting everything you want at the exact moment you want it. He supposes it’s a bit like the pot calling the kettle black, considering his own upbringing, but he’d like to think that he’s earned what he’s been given, at least partially. Especially since most of it has been his brother’s hand-me-downs. And it’s not like his father has ever been in the habit of doing him any favors that don’t come wrapped in criticism, comparison, and disdain.

Although rumor does have it you and your mother haven’t been on speaking terms since you left for university, Jake imagines it’s probably because you wanted to bring the limited edition Versace to campus with you, and she insisted it would be safer at home.

Oh, well. Whatever designer dispute happened between you and your mother is no skin off his back. Jake has his own problems to worry about.

One of them being his brother’s question that still lingers on the other line.

Weighing responses in his head, Jake finally settles on, “I guess.” It’s his best attempt at being noncommittal.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t do anything to dissuade his brother. “Do you have her number by chance? My secretary should have taken it down, but she can’t find it anywhere.”

Jake balks, footsteps faltering. An equally distracted student walking behind him nearly stumbles right into his back. Wordlessly, Jake sends them an apologetic look before clarifying, “Her number? Like, her personal phone number?”

“What other kind of number is there?” And there’s the James that Jake knows. Annoyed at the perceived incompetencies of his younger brother, just as always.

Suddenly, Jake’s patience is running short too. James is the one asking for a favor and still has the gall to be annoyed with him. Typical. Jake’s words are clipped when he says, “No, I don’t have ___’s phone number.”

Jake expects that to be the end of it, but his brother won’t let it go so easily.

“Seriously? Don’t you two go to the same school?”

Jake rolls his eyes. “Right, because I have the entire student body on speed dial.”

There’s a pause on the other end. Jake half expects his brother to just hang up on him. After all, he’s never been able to take what he gets, to swallow what he dishes out.

What Jake does not expect, however, is the way James sounds so tentative when he speaks again. “Well…”

“Well what?” Patience already running thin, it’s all he can do not to snap.

“Do you think you could get it for me?”

Jake must be dreaming. This must be a post-exam punishment, a hallucination brought on by over exerting his brain too far for too long. “Do I think I could get ___’s phone number for you?” he repeats flatly.

“Is there an echo in here?” Asshole. At least he’s consistent.

“Just an echo chamber,” Jake mutters away from the receiver.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Jake stops for a moment to fiddle with his keyring as he walks up the stairs to his apartment. “No, I can’t get her phone number for you.”

“Why not?”

The key won’t line up quite right. Jake tries again, frustration seeping through. “Because I have better things to do than run stupid errands for you. Why don’t you drive here and get it yourself?”

“Trust me, if I thought she’d give it to me, I’d be there in an hour.”

The lock on his door finally clicks open, and Jake all but throws his bag down after kicking off his shoes. “And what the hell makes you think she’d give it to me?”

“Well, you didn’t accidentally stand her up, for one.” James doesn’t sound embarrassed by it. Just matter-of-fact. Like a date is nothing but a business deal. Something to be rescheduled and redone if negotiations go sour the first time around.

It is enough to stir up some of Jake’s curiosity, though. “You went on a date with ___?” He supposes it makes sense. Even if the rumor mill and its rumblings about your rocky relationship with your mother ring true, you’re still your parents’ daughter. Still a perfect match on paper for the future CEO of the Sim Corporation. The king of a company and princess of a law firm. It’s a match made in heaven, he thinks ruefully.

“No, I didn’t. That’s kind of the whole point here.”

“Whatever.” Jake still doesn’t see what the hell he has to do with all this. “Why don’t you just look up her parents’ number in the company database and get it from them?”

Jake can practically feel his brother’s exasperation through the phone. “Right, because that would go over really well. Hi there," he imitates. “I’d like to make your daughter the mother of my future children. Care to pass along her phone number so I can get started on that?”

Jake suppresses a wince. “Jesus. I see why she stood you up.”

“She didn’t. I stood her up,” James clarifies. “On accident.”

Semantics. And not ones that Jake is interested in. “Either way. I’m not getting her number for you.”

“Yeah?” Jake is unsettled by the way there’s still no trace of defeat in his brother’s voice. There’s something almost sinister when he suddenly switches topics. “How are classes going?”

Jake’s lips pull into a taut line, disaster of an econ midterm still fresh on his mind. “Fine.”

“Really? Even econ? Third time’s the charm and all that?” Well, at least his brother can be counted on to consistently be an asshole.

“Why do you care?” The only thing Jake wants to do is end this call and crawl into bed for a well-deserved afternoon nap. Let his subconscious spare him from thoughts of his older brother and econ and you for at least a little bit.

James has other plans. “You must have taken the midterm recently, right?” Jake’s silence is confirmation enough. “You know, the only thing Dr. Jeong weighs more heavily than the midterm is the final paper at the end of the semester.”

A minute ago, Jake thought you were the last thing he wanted to talk about. The sudden shift in direction in this conversation is starting to prove him wrong. If there’s one thing Jake would rather discuss even less than his older brother’s dating life, it’s school. “What does that have to do with a–”

“And I think I still have my copy of the paper that earned me the top score in my entire section.” The smugness is practically palpable. “I might have to do some digging, but I’m sure it’s in my old files somewhere.”

Jake rolls his eyes, wishes the immediate comparison weren’t the first thing to rise to the forefront of his mind. Wishes it didn’t find him so lacking. Wishes it wasn’t narrated in the voice of his disappointed father. “If you’re trying to gloat, it’s n–”

“I’m trying to strike a deal. Jesus, no wonder you’re on track to be a super senior getting a business degree.”

“This is my third year,” Jake defends indignantly.

“And your third attempt at econ, which I passed in my first year.” He sounds like he’s settling a little too well into the CEO role when he proposes, “I’m trying to make it your last attempt.”

Jake would be lying if he said his curiosity weren’t piqued, even just slightly. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, little brother, that my term paper, my notes, all of it, are yours.” It sounds too good to be true. It has to be too good to be true. James is a lot of things, but generous and helpful are very rarely any of them. “As soon as you get me ___’s number.” And there it is.

Jake hangs up without bothering to dignify that with a response and hopes it sends a strong enough signal of his refusal. Then, he falls into his bed face-first with a groan.

And a week later, when his econ midterm results are finally posted, the first thing Jake does is let his head fall on his desk with an alarmingly loud thud that has Jay poking his head in the door to make sure everything’s okay. The second thing he does, a solid twenty minutes later, is send his older brother a text.

Jake [7:21pm]: You better start digging through those old files.

…

All things considered, you’re easier to track down than Jake expects. The university campus is big, and judging from the way he can’t remember ever seeing you in a class, the two of you don’t share a major. But the similarities in your social status mean you’re bound to run in some of the same circles, and Jake is able to use this to his advantage.

Ultimately, it takes very little digging on his part. First, he mentions your name to Jay in the middle of an upper body superset in the university gym. Jay frowns, setting the weights back on the rack.

“That name sounds familiar. I think maybe Heeseung knows her?”

That tidbit takes him to Wednesday night, which always finds Jake in the library at a statistics study group Heeseung also makes a habit of attending. On their way out for the evening, Jake stops him by the door.

“___?” Heeseung pauses for a moment in contemplation. “I’m pretty sure she’s friends with Sunghoon.”

And the third piece of the puzzle proves a bit more difficult to click into place. Sunghoon is harder for Jake to find, at least in a way that comes across naturally. Much like yours, Park Sunghoon is a name Jake hears in passing more than anything. He’s a friend of friends, a mutual acquaintance that Jake has never really had a conversation with and certainly doesn’t know well enough to interrogate for your phone number.

But his most recent midterm score is still looming over his head, and the thought of retaking econ again is so nightmarish it sends a shiver down his spine every time he considers it. At this point, there isn’t much Jake wouldn’t put on the line to pass the damn class. Including his pride, apparently.

So when Jake hears from Jay who hears from Heeseung that Sunghoon will probably be at the party Epsilon Nu Eta is throwing this Friday night, he starts to formulate a plan.

And he starts to regret said plan less than twenty-four hours later when he finds himself on the doorstep of a frat party. A frat party. He can’t remember the last time he came to one of these things. At twenty-one, he already feels geriatric as he tugs self-consciously at the sleeves of the plan black long sleeve he put on for the occasion. Something that will hopefully hide the questionable stains he’ll inevitably leave with.

Entering through the front door with hinges that don’t align quite right, Jake has one mission in mind: find Park Sunghoon. Find him and somehow convince him to pass along your number. There’s a fine line to be walked there, Jake thinks. If he comes across as too eager, it will just be creepy. Nonchalance is the name of the game, but he’s never been good at keeping his cards close to his chest.

For Jake, it’s a tall order, which means the only detour he’ll allow himself is grabbing a cup of lukewarm beer from the kitchen before he sets out looking for Sunghoon. The alcohol is an effort to break the barrier of his inhibitions more than anything. To make what he’s about to do feel a little less painful.

Making his way out of the kitchen, Jake wanders aimlessly for a few minutes. He doesn’t know much about Sunghoon, other than the fact that he competes for your university’s figure skating team and is undeniably handsome. A good-looking figure skater, Jake thinks as he turns down yet another crowded hallway, narrowly avoiding spilling his drink. Where would one of those be hiding?

He spends a few more awkward minutes asking around to no avail. Just when he’s on the verge of saying fuck it and making some sort of sacrifice to the econ gods instead, Jake bumps into the man of the hour on his way to the bathroom.

In the chaos, Jake doesn’t recognize him until it’s almost too late. “Hey,” Jake calls out, bladder all but forgotten for now. He’s trying to fake an air of coolness when he adds, “Sunghoon, right?”

“Yeah.” Jake thanks his lucky stars that Sunghoon must be at least two drinks in, because he doesn’t seem weirded out at all by the sudden question from a near stranger.

“I’m Jake.” He reaches his arm out for a handshake. Blinking, Sunghoon just stares at his outstretched hand as long, awkward moments bleed into each other. Eventually, Jake just lets it fall back to his side. “I’m, uh, in a statistics class with Heeseung.”

“Right on,” Sunghoon nods, still unsure if this conversation has a point to it. Luckily, the pleasant haze clouding his thoughts means he doesn’t mind too much either way.

Jake figures there’s no point in dragging this out by exchanging more pleasantries, and he has the feeling Sunghoon might start forgetting his own name, much less yours, if he lets this continue for too long.

“Listen,” Jake starts, trying to sound as not creepy as possible. “I heard that you know ___ pretty well.”

Sunghoon just shrugs. Jake can’t tell if he’s succeeded. “You could say that.”

“I know this is a strange request, but, uh,” Jake scratches the side of his head, “is there any chance I could get her number? I promise not to do anything weird.” Word vomiting, the extra details are spilling out before he can stop them. “It’s not even for me, actually–”

Sunghoon spares him the rest of a rambling explanation. “Sorry, bud. No can do.”

Jake’s stomach tightens in panic. He really, really just needs your phone number. It has him forgetting his earlier inhibitions, throwing caution to the wind even if he’s making a bit of a fool of himself in the process. “It’s for something important, actually. I’m kind of desperate–”

Sunghoon just puts a consolatory hand on Jake’s shoulder, interrupting his train of thought. “Look, man, it’s nothing against you personally, but I have literally never met you in my life. Besides, if I gave out ___’s number to every random guy that asked, I’m pretty sure she’d shave my head.” Sunghoon leans in close, like he’s about to share a secret. Jake’s nose twists at the scent of alcohol on his breath. “And between you and me, I don’t think I could pull off being bald.”

Jake kind of begs to differ, but that’s neither here nor there. He opens his mouth to plead his case again, but Sunghoon doesn’t even let him get a word out.

“Sorry, man, but I really can’t help you.” Pausing for a moment, he considers. “You said your name was Jacob, though, right?” He doesn’t pause long enough for Jake to correct him. “I could ask her if she’s cool with giving you her number–”

“Whose number are you giving out?” And if Jake thought this conversation wasn’t enough of a train wreck already, trust the timing of your entrance to be more disastrous than divine.

Eyes turning to you and your sudden intrusion on the conversation, Jake’s mind goes blank for a minute. And yeah, he kinda gets why his brother’s so hellbent on having a second chance at your time. Dressed in all black, your hair is loose around your face. Even though it likely costs more than most people’s monthly paycheck, there’s nothing inherently special about what you’re wearing. Still, Jake is finding it exceedingly difficult to look away.

It’s something in your aura, he thinks. In the way you carry yourself. Something that money can’t buy. Something that makes his gaze want to linger.

“___!” Sunghoon grins, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, wobbling slightly. You jostle at the sudden impact, inching away from where the contents of his cup slosh dangerously close to the rim. “What a coincidence. We were just talking about you.”

Your brow creases in confusion. Jake tracks the miniscule movement with parted lips.

“You were?”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon confirms, just at the same moment Jake shakes his head, “No.”

Turning your mildly concerned gaze away from your friend, you glance at Jake for the first time. Brow furrowing further, you cock your head to the side as your lips part in partial recognition. He looks oddly familiar, but you can’t quite place him. “Do I know you?”

“No.” Jake shakes his head again, a little too fervently. “I don’t think we’ve ever met. At least not properly.”

It’s an odd way of putting it. You’re about to ask him to clarify when Sunghoon cuts in, clearing up the confusion for you. “It’s Jacob,” he says, as if that should mean anything to you. Turning back to the boy across from him, he adds, “Jacob Sim, right?”

And that clicks things into place.

“Sim?” you echo, realization dawning on your features.

“Yep,” Sunghoon confirms.

Across from you, Jake says nothing. He doesn’t think he could if he wanted to. In fact, he’s pretty sure his life is flashing before his eyes.

“Sim,” you repeat one final time, jaw ticking in agitation as everything starts to settle. “I do know you.”

“Oh, really?” Sunghoon asks at your side, oblivious to the way your tone betrays obvious animosity. A distaste so palpable Jake can practically feel it radiating off of you. Turning back to Jake, he’s apologetic. “Sorry, Jacob. I guess I could have given you her number, then.” Sunghoon smiles sheepishly, as if he hasn’t just made things a million times worse. “My bad.”

Jake’s eyes widen in horror as he scrambles for some sort of defense, an explanation that will dig him out of this rapidly deepening hole, but you beat him to it.

“My number?” The look you give him has a concerning amount of venom in it. “Seriously? God, why are all you Sim men so obsessed with me?”

“That’s not–”

“First your brother views my LinkedIn profile twenty-three times after standing me up, and now you’re harassing my friends for my phone number?”

“Hold on. I’m not harassing anyone–”

“No,” Sunghoon agrees, nodding diplomatically. “Jacob was perfectly pleasant–”

“It’s Jake, actually.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, just Jake.”

“Sorry,” Sunghoon apologizes. Turning to you, he tries mediating again. “Well, like I said, just Jake was perfectly pleasant–”

“I don’t care how pleasant he is.” Your glare somehow becomes icier. “Leave me alone, and tell your dickhead brother to do the same.” Muttering to yourself more than anything, you add, “The last thing I need right now is you practically stalking me–”

“Stalking you?” Jake flounders, an edge of annoyance creeping into his tone. He’s not surprised to learn that you really do think the world revolves around you, but really? Stalking? “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s not like I’m enjoying this interaction any more than you are.”

You don’t back down, crossing your arms over your chest. The movement has Sunghoon teetering dangerously where he leans on you, but you pay him no mind, attention focused solely on the man in front of you. “Then why do you want my phone number so bad?”

“Like I was trying to say earlier when you wouldn’t let me get a word out sideways,” Jake bites, “it’s not for me. I made a deal with someone, and I told them I’d give them your number.”

Your gaze narrows. “Who?”

“What?”

“Who did you make a deal with?”

Jake hesitates, knowing how the truth will sound. Screw it – a lie would likely be just as damning. Still, it takes him another pregnant pause to eventually admit, “... My brother.”

Scoffing in disbelief, you double down on your ire. “Absolutely not.” Shaking Sunghoon off your shoulder, you turn to leave, dragging him with you. Jake’s eyes close; he can’t bear to watch his last chance at passing this semester leave him in the dust.

So much so that he pleads again, “Wait, ___. Please.” Jake is begging now, and he feels a little pathetic for it. Still, he can’t help the way desperation drives him to continue. “You can block him for all I care. I can’t explain everything, but my life is quite literally in your hands right now. I just need–”

“No.” The single syllable vibrates with finality. “Do I have to spell it for you? N-” you bite, enunciating so sharply Jake thinks you might draw blood. “O. No. I’m not giving my number to you or your flake of a brother or anyone else that so much as looks like they might have the name Sim.”

God, is the only think Jake can think as he miserably watches your retreating figure, Sunghoon stumbling along as you drag him with you. I am so fucked.

…

When Sunghoon finally emerges from your guest bedroom an hour before noon the next day, it’s to ask if you’d be kind enough to spare him some Advil. Even with a bad case of bedhead and the aftermath of overconsumption, he still manages to look good, albeit a little lifeless.

“I’ll do you one better,” you tell him, but reach for the small white bottle anyway, shaking out a few tablets and offering them to your best friend along with a glass of cold water.

“Bagels and coffee?” Sunghoon asks over the rim of his glass, with a little more alertness in his eyes than there was moments before.

“Bagels and coffee,” you confirm. A tried and true hangover cure, if there ever was one. And even though your head is feeling nice and clear, thanks to your trusty two drink limit that has yet to fail you, the local cafe a block from your apartment is very rarely something you turn down.

Thirty minutes later and a change of clothes later, the two of you are trading gossip and stealing bites of each other’s orders when the other person isn’t looking at the table in the back corner of the cafe. Sunghoon is just about to stuff another piece of your bagel in his mouth when he notices yet another notification light up the screen of your phone.

Sunghoon nods towards where it rests on the table, bagel suddenly forgotten. “Is that your mom again?”

“Yep.” Your lips stretch thin. You don’t even need to glance down at your phone to confirm. She’s been blowing up your notifications all weekend. “She’s been on my ass about the upcoming fundraiser event for days now. And reminding me about the utmost importance of bringing an appropriate plus-one.”

Across from you, Sunghoon straightens his shoulders. “I suppose it is about time I bust out the trusty old prom suit again.”

You sigh, sending your half-eaten bagel a forlorn glance. “I wish. She told me if I ever bring you again, I lose half my trust fund.”

“What?” Sunghoon looks affronted. “Why?”

You level him with a look. “Does soap ring a bell?”

Sunghoon splutters in indignation. “That was one time,” he defends. “And anyone would have thought those were edible! They were shaped like candies, and they were on a platter–”

“Soap presentation aside, I don’t think that excuse will work on her.” The dejection in your voice is apparent. “Besides, she’s already made it very clear that you’re explicitly forbidden from attending any future family events as my plus-one.”

“Whatever,” Sunghoon grumbles. “Keep all your stupid inedible soaps.” Pausing for a moment, he realizes that still leaves a giant question hanging in the air. “Who are you gonna bring, then? You know, it kind of is too bad your date with Sim number one didn’t pan out.”

You shrug, pointedly ignoring the way your phone screen lights up yet again. It really is a bit of a shame James turned out to be an unreliable flake. One that still hasn’t bothered to apologize to you or even give any sort of indication that he remembered your scheduled date. Still, you can’t think of anyone that would earn your mother’s approval faster. “I’ll probably just fake a stomach flu.” After all, you’re kind of out of options. “I thought about asking Jungwon, but he’s got stuff going on for his internship that night. A big economics conference or something.”

“Speaking of economics,” Sunghoon leans in conspiratorially. “I think I might have some intel on our new friend from last night.”

“How was economics the segue you went with? We were literally just talking about his older brother.” Giving him a look of disbelief, you add, “And what about that interaction gave you the impression that we’re friends?”

“Whatever,” Sunghoon brushes you off before he continues, “Anyway, I heard from Heeseung who heard from Jay that apparently little Sim is hot garbage at economics. Rumor has it he’s already failed the class twice and is on track to do it again.”

You’re not sure why he’s deemed this information relevant to you, but you’d be lying if you said it weren’t a little amusing.

“Really? Jungwon’s taking it now too, and he said that he sleeps through half the lectures and is still pulling an A.”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes. “Well, we can’t all be prodigies.”

Your lips flatten. “Pretty sure you don’t have to be a prodigy to not fail an entry level course three times.”

“Hey, cut him some slack,” Sunghoon argues. “He’s only failed it twice as of now.”

You scoff, entirely uninterested in the gory details of Jake Sim’s academic failures. “Whatever.”

“Either way,” Sunghoon says, “Jay told Heeseung who told me that’s why he’s so desperate for your number.” Confusion makes itself known on your features. You still don’t see the connection until Sunghoon adds, “Apparently he made some sort of deal with his brother that if he gets him your phone number, he’ll help him pass econ.”

A beat of silence passes between you. The barista at the counter calls out a customer’s name. It’s all you can do to not let your jaw physically drop open, mostly because–

“That is probably the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” Glaring at Sunghoon, you can’t believe the theatrics of it all. “How many times have I told you to stop believing everything Heeseung says?”

“Technically, Jay said it,” Sunghoon corrects. “And I don’t know... It kind of makes sense when you think about it.”

You beg to differ. “It absolutely does not. What is this, middle school? Are we passing notes behind the teacher’s back and making our friends ask our crushes if they like us back?” It’s ridiculous. Absolutely, utterly ridiculous.

There is no way. Absolutely no way that James Sim, heir to a multimillion dollar company, is wasting his time giving his little brother an economics cheat sheet in exchange for your phone number.

Sunghoon raises his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I just thought you might be curious.”

And you hate to admit it, but you kind of are. Even though every ounce of logic you’ve accumulated in twenty-one years of life tells you that Heeseung is a notorious gossip whose stories are just as much fiction as reality and your best friend is no better. Even though the whole thing makes absolutely no sense at all.

Even though you repeat it to yourself over and over for the rest of the day, that damn curiosity is still there. Pestering you and disturbing your sleep and leaving you wondering if maybe, just maybe, some things are entirely too ridiculous to be anything but true.

…

On Wednesday night, Jake and Heeseung are in the middle of a particularly brutal probability set when a sudden shadow looms over their favorite corner table on the third floor of the library.

Glancing up, Jake finds Heeseung’s gaze already trained somewhere over his shoulder. Jake can’t quite tell if the look on his face is confusion or terror.

“Mind if I join?” The request comes from behind him, posed in an oddly familiar voice. Heeseung is nodding in agreement before Jake has the chance to so much as turn around and identify the intruder.

All is revealed soon enough, though, when you slide down into the seat next to him, ignoring the way Heeseung scrambles to move his things and make room for you in the seat next to him. Instead, you busy yourself with setting your bag on the floor and pulling out your laptop.

It’s all Jake can do to stare at you blankly. This evening, you’ve traded the all black outfit from the other night’s party for something a bit more casual, something comfortable that blends in better to the background of a university library. The sudden proximity also means that the scent of your perfume is quick to waft over towards him.

Jake does his best to hold his breath before his brain can trick him into thinking he likes it.

“Stop looking at me like that.” A bold request for someone who just hijacked a study session and sat down with no explanation, but Jake wouldn’t expect anything less from you.

“Like what?” The words are out before he gives them permission. Across the table, Heeseung is staring too, but all three of you know the command isn’t for him.

“I don’t know.” Glancing at the battery bar hovering just above empty, you dig around in your bag for a moment for your laptop charger. Jake notes that you still have yet to look at him. Instead, you begin to busy yourself with typing something on your computer. “Just stop it.”

He hopes you can feel the way his eyes burn holes into the side of your head as his blank stare shifts into a glare.

Heeseung glances between the two of you. His outburst is sudden. “Oh! I just remembered.” He hits his head for good measure. The acting is wasted on this audience, though. Neither of you pay him any mind or even bother to glance in his direction. “I have to go, uh…” he trails off, finishing lamely with a rather flat, “somewhere else.”

“Great.” Your eyes don’t leave your screen, fingers still flying on your keyboard. “See you later.”

As Heeseung scrambles to pack up his unfinished statistics homework and high tail it out of the library, the air that has suddenly become stifling, Jake glances down at where your fingers are still moving.

Distractedly, he wonders how you can type so fast with nails that long, how you never seem to need the backspace key. How none of the pastel pink that coats your fingernails seems to be so much as chipped. A projection of perfection, he thinks, down to every last detail.

Moments pass, neither of you saying anything.

You still haven’t looked at him by the time you do eventually break the impasse. “I heard you suck at econ.”

And Jake actually cannot believe you. “Did you seriously hunt me down just to rub it in?”

“Rub it in?” That at least earns him some of your attention, even if it is just a brief, confused glance as your fingers pause in their typing. “It’s not like I’m the reason you can’t pass.”

“Believe it or not, you quite literally are.”

You sigh, removing your hands from your keyboard entirely. Then, before he can blink, you spin your entire body in your chair, eyes, shoulders, and knees all directly trained on him. Jake can’t help the way he flinches back a few inches at the sudden change in pace.

“Look,” you start. He can already tell by the way you wrap the single syllable sound in patronization that he’s not going to appreciate whatever you’re about to say. “I can tell that you’re not used to, like, having conversations with people, but usually what happens is you give someone enough information so that they know what you’re talking about.” He’s right.

And he’s quick to defend himself. “Maybe I could, if you’d let me get three words out without interr–”

But you’ve moved on already. “Is the whole ‘deal with your brother’ thing true?”

Jake lets the silence linger for a moment, looking at you in disbelief. “You literally just proved my point.”

You roll your eyes. “I knew what you were going to say, so I sped things along. Now answer my question.” You lay it out for him again. This time, even more directly. “Did you try to get my number because of some deal you made with your brother?”

He’s not sure why it sounds so ridiculous, narrated back to him in your voice. It’s not like it was a brilliant, foolproof plan to begin with, but the way you present it has him feeling about five inches tall.

“I…”

“It’s a yes or no question.” You really don’t beat around the bush, he thinks.

“Yes, okay?”

Looking behind you, you suddenly lean in a little closer. It’s all Jake can do not to flinch back again. Bringing your hand up to cup your mouth, it’s like you’re about to divulge a terrible secret when you whisper, “You’re that bad at econ?”

Jake just sighs. “Worse, probably.”

Frowning, you pull back a few inches. “Aren’t you a business major? Isn’t econ, like, pretty important for you?” If he were thinking clearly, Jake might wonder how you know that. But that only thing his mind has space for right now is annoyance. At you, at this exchange, at the way you so easily pick through his flaws and seem to have no problem laying them bare at his feet like he doesn't already know them intimately.

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I got any say in my major,” Jake counters. He might have more patience for this conversation if he were having it with anyone but you, if you weren’t throwing his own insecurities back in his face with every follow-up question.

At that, something flickers through your eyes. Sympathy, maybe. “Fair enough.” Whatever it is, it’s gone before he can identify it. And it’s not enough to make you pull your punches. “Still though, that’s probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Jake doesn’t need the reminder. “Just get a tutor like everyone else.”

The thing is, Jake has thought about it. On more than one occasion. He’s even gotten so far as filling out the university tutor request form. He just could never quite bring himself to complete the ‘Name’ field without all of the potential consequences forcing him to hit backspace.

He might not be his brother, but he’s not stupid enough to think that his family would ever be okay with the Sim name anywhere near a tutor form. He tells you as much. “And listen to my dad tell me how much of a disappointment I am for not being able to even take a class on my own?” Jake laughs humorlessly. “No thanks.”

A beat passes. Two. You’re not done yet, but you at least have the decency to sound a little apologetic, a little tentative when you say, “Not to kick you while you’re down or anything, but I mean, that has to be better than failing twice.”

Jake just shakes his head. “You don’t know my father.”

You shrug but don’t press the matter further. Truth be told, you don’t know his father, but you do know fathers like him. You have one of your own. The third floor of the library doesn’t seem like the place for that conversation, though, even if you’ve already uncovered more than your fair share of each other’s secrets in the last ten minutes. “I guess not.”

…

Your phone is buzzing far too incessantly for a Saturday morning, much less this early on a Saturday morning. Internally, you curse Friday night you, who forgot to switch it into do not disturb before falling asleep. Face still buried in your pillow, you reach around your nightstand blindly with the intention of remedying that particular mistake and enjoying a few more moments of peace.

Before you can make good on your plan, you make the fatal mistake of reading the message preview before silencing your phone. And suddenly, to your neverending annoyance, you’re wide awake.

Mom [7:36 am]: Looking forward to seeing you next Saturday at the fundraiser.

Mom [7:37 am]: I also noticed that you haven’t indicated who you’ll be bringing yet. Please fill out the RSVP form when you have a moment.

Mom [7:45 am]: James Sim hasn’t RSVP’d yet. Are you bringing him? You should invite him if you haven’t already.

Mom [7:53 am]: I also never heard the update after your date a few weeks ago. Hoping no news is good news. I just spoke with his father the other day, and it sounds like he’s doing great things over at their company.

Mom [8:01 am]: I also heard that he volunteered a few summers ago rebuilding turtle habitats. Wow! I think you two would get along very well.

Groaning, you flip your phone back over. That about sums up how well she knows her only daughter, you think ruefully. If she thought wooing you with turtles was a good idea, she must have forgotten that you’ve had a lingering phobia of the freaky little reptiles since your friend from elementary school had a pet turtle that bit your finger when you were at her house.

Besides, you have serious doubts that’s actually how James Sim spent his last summer in university.

If memories from your social media scrolling serve correctly, rebuilding turtle habitats was code for partying on a yacht for a month straight. You don’t care how he spends his free time, but the way he already has your mother wrapped around his stupid finger is enough to annoy any lingering sleepiness out of your system.

Whatever. James Sim’s white lies are the least of your concerns now, and they certainly won’t solve your problems. If anything, you’re starting to regret not telling your mother anything about your failed attempt at a first date with him. Now, trying to explain that disaster of an evening would only sound like an excuse at best and a flimsy lie at worst.

And even if she did believe you, you still have the glaring issue of next Saturday and your lack of a pre-approved plus-one.

With one final groan, you pull your blanket over your face, trying and failing to banish any thoughts of your mother, James Sim, and the certain disaster next weekend will be.

Despite your best efforts, your worries linger. They follow you into Sunday; they start to make you desperate on Monday. With a diminishing handful of days left until the fundraiser, your anxiety only surges.

By the time Wednesday rolls around, you’re so stressed out that you can barely force your eyes to focus on the nearly blank Word document in front of you, all of the legalese and case details you can usually sort through in your sleep jumbling into one incomprehensible blob.

Halfway through your third reread of a paragraph that details the basics of copyright law, it strikes you. The seedling of an idea so utterly ridiculous it just might be your saving grace.

Your mother probably, definitely, couldn’t care less about James Sim’s so-called affinity for wildlife rescue. No, the only thing that makes him an appropriate candidate in her eyes for this Saturday has nothing to do with his personality at all.

It’s his name that she likes. His family name specifically.

In the middle of your favorite cafe, it hits you. The seedling of an idea sprouts roots, begins to bloom.

If one Sim is good enough to be your plus-one, then surely the other one would be too.

And you know exactly where he’ll be tonight. Glancing down at the time on your phone, you force your brain to think. Now, all you need is a plan. A way to convince him. Something he can’t refuse.

Closing the lid of your laptop, you smile. You know exactly what it is he wants.

Before you leave the cafe, you send a quick message to a friend. Set your plan in place so that the details are polished, irrefutable when you present it to him.

And then you set out for the university library.

When you find Jake and Heeseung sitting at the same exact table on the third floor of the library, Heeseung doesn’t even bother to stick around for the customary greetings. Instead, he takes one single look at you before offering another flimsy excuse about having somewhere to be. Or maybe something to do. You can’t remember, and it doesn’t really matter.

After all, the only reason you’re here is because–

“I have a way for you to pass econ.” Sliding into the seat next to Jake, the same one you sat in last time, you don’t waste any time before divulging the reason for your presence.

If Jake is startled, he doesn’t show it. Statistics homework forgotten on the table, the only thing you see on his face is pure, obvious relief as his shoulders relax.

“Thank god.” Reaching for his phone, he unlocks it, tapping and swiping until he’s ready to enter a new contact. “Give me your number, and I’ll–”

You shake your head, interrupting his train of thoughts. The way you smile makes him suddenly uneasy. He thought this was over, but now he’s not so sure. You confirm his fears when you say, “A different way.”

Now Jake just looks exasperated. If you keep up this habit, he’s about to start failing statistics too. Never mind the fact that he got his hopes up for what he is sure will turn out to be a giant pile of nothing. Still, he humors you. “What do you mean, a different way?”

“I mean,” you start, folding your hands across your lap. Jake has the distinct impression that you’re trying your best to be as convincing as possible. If nothing else, it does pique his curiosity. He’s never seen you be anything but annoyed or uninterested. It’s an interesting change of pace.“I have a friend who’s also taking econ right now and hasn’t scored below a 98 on a single assignment.” Jesus, Jake thinks. Must be nice.

And then you drop the bomb on him. “He said he’s more than willing to tutor you. For money, of course.” you specify, moving on so quickly he hardly has the chance to process what you’re saying. “And it’s not like you can’t afford it, but I’ll split the cost with you. For the principle of it all.” There’s a beat of silence as what you’ve just said settles into the air. “Oh,” you add, remembering the most important detail. “And he’ll be discreet. Under the table tutoring, if you will. No chance of word getting back to Daddy Sim.”

You do your best to give him your most trustworthy smile. Jake just stares back at you, mildly horrified.

When he finally speaks again, it’s to say, “... Please, and I mean this with every single bone in my body, please never refer to my father like that again.”

Not even bothering to look sheepish, the only agreement you offer is a mock salute.

Your poor taste in nicknames aside, it does seem like a pretty sweet deal from where Jake is sitting. He cannot fail economics again, and getting a tutor would mean that his brother couldn’t hold his success over his head, couldn’t claim to be the sole reason for it. And a discreet tutor would be even better. Not going through the official university system would mean a much lower chance of his father ever finding out he got some help along the way.

All things considered, and very much to his surprise, Jake is having a hard time seeing any downsides.

He goes through the list again. First, he gets to pass economics. Second, he doesn’t have to deal with his older brother in the process. Third, he gets a tutor that won’t pop up on his father’s radar, and all Jake has to do in return is–

Wait.

“Hold on a minute.” There’s an unmistakable edge of suspicion in Jake’s voice. There’s no way you went out of your way to find him a tutor, to help pay for it, without getting something in return. The wheels in his mind are starting to spin when he asks, “What’s in it for you?”

Next to him, you smile. It’s small, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think you almost look nervous. “It’s just a small favor, really.” The expression on your face is not reassuring in the slightest. Still, you insist, “It’ll be easy, I promise. Just a few hours of your time at most.”

Jake knows better than to agree without details. And especially to anything you’re proposing. He’s already preparing to kiss his dreams of passing econ goodbye when he asks slowly,“What is it?”

You sigh, pretenses dropping. If you’re going to convince him now, you might as well do it with honesty. “That annual charity fundraiser event my parents throw. Your parents are usually there, I think. I don’t know if you’ve ever gone?”

Jake shrugs, frowning as he tries to remember. He’s not entirely sure either. After a while, fundraisers and events and family obligations all start to blur together. Although the name does ring a bell, albeit a distant, faint one.

“Anyway,” you continue, “my mother is insistent that I bring a date. Someone she considers appropriate company. You know, runs in the same circles and comes from what she would consider a good family.” Jake nods. He does know exactly what you mean. Picking up on his agreement, you add with a twinge of hopefulness, “Like I said, it would be easy. Especially for you, since you’re used to this kind of stuff. I wouldn’t have to train you–”

That has Jake rolling his eyes. “Let me guess. I get a treat for rolling over?”

The ice in your glare is half hearted. “You know what I mean. There are certain…” You weigh your words carefully. “expectations at these things.” Pausing for a moment, you add, “What I’m trying to say is that I don’t think you’ll eat the soap, even if it’s candy shaped and on a platter.”

If you were trying to clarify your point, you did a terrible job. Jake’s brow pulls downwards in confusion. “Is that supposed to be some kind of metaphor?”

“Unfortunately not.” You shake your head, but don’t explain any further. Sunghoon’s mishaps are not the point of this conversation. A mutually beneficial deal is. Which is why you ask him, “So, what do you say? Are you in or not?”

Is he? Jake says nothing, considering. Mentally, he goes through the list of pros and cons. Pros, he thinks. I get to finally pass econ, and I get to do it without my brother. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, gaze tracking the movement as you nervously bite at your lower lip. Also, I get to show up at an event with the girl he’s been trying to get for weeks now.

He’d be lying if that didn't spark a certain warm feeling in his chest, if it didn’t inspire a sudden bout of preemptive vindication. But there are other things to consider.

Cons, he continues internally. I have to spend an entire evening at an event hosted by your family and make them believe you don’t annoy the ever-loving shit out of me.

Weighing his options, Jake has one more question. “How long would it be?” he asks, and you try to stifle a grin, as if he’s already told you yes.

“The event is technically four hours,” you say carefully, “but I’m sure we could manage to sneak out after a solid two and a half.”

Jake nods, thinking it over a moment longer.

“Okay,” he finally breathes, hoping this isn’t some kind of terrible, elaborate trick, that he isn’t about to sign his life away on a dotted line.

For econ, he thinks. For what’s left of his struggling GPA. He can manage a single night at a mind-numbingly boring high society function. Even if it’s with you. “I’m in.”

And it feels a bit strange, he has to admit, as he watches you type your contact information into his contact list. It feels odd to have your number in his phone with no intention of passing it on. To know that he’s the one who will be using it to confirm the details of this Saturday. To know that his brother will be none the wiser and not at all closer to having any kind of access to you.

And if that strange surge of smugness makes another sudden appearance, well, Jake just figures that no one ever has to know about it.

…

Frowning, you give yourself another once over in the full length mirror that sits next to your vanity. A shimmering, pale gold, the evening gown that flows over your figure was hand-selected by you for this very event. For some reason, you’re having a hard time rediscovering the magic you’d felt trying it on in the showroom here in the soft, ambient light of your bedroom.

Objectively, you’re sure you must look good. The compliments the store attendants had given you were more than just customary, and gold has always been your color. Still, a slew of sudden uncertainties simmer in your gut. Is the slight sparkle too garish? Does the gold wash you out? Your worries feel too big for your bedroom, at too stark an opposition with the peaceful ambience as soft, instrumental music plays from your speaker.

But this particular Saturday evening has its ways of making you feel jumbled where you’d typically be steadfast. Insecure where you’d usually find confidence.

It’s true that your mother has always had a critical eye, and especially where you’re concerned. If you were to search deep enough, however, you’d find that she’s not the person you’re most concerned about making a lasting impression on tonight.

With no small effort, you resist the urge to smooth out invisible wrinkles in the bodice of your dress. A nervous habit more than anything, it’s only exacerbated by the way your phone is still devoid of notifications. The clock on your nightstand is a reminder that your date for the evening should be here any minute, should be sending a message as confirmation of his arrival at your apartment. But your phone is still silent, even as the hour of the fundraiser draws nearer and nearer.

Maybe this was a terrible mistake, you think, a new bout of uncertainties beginning to brew. It shouldn't be a surprise, really. Trust him to be just as flakey as his brother, with absolutely no regard for previous commitments or anyone else’s time. It’s just your luck that you get stood up again, this time by the other Sim.

You're in the middle of disguising your fears and distracting yourself by cursing him and his future bloodline when your phone finally pings with an incoming notification. Well, you think, grabbing your coat, feeling a bit ridiculous for the slight overreaction, you’ll have to look into removing generational curses when you have the time.

For now, you settle with pulling on your heels for the evening, ignoring the way you feel a bit wobbly despite the fact that you’ve walked in far worse. Locking your apartment behind you and striking a slightly unsteady pace towards the elevator down the hall, you whisper a silent plea that tonight isn’t as much of a disaster as you’re afraid it could be.

You watch as the numbers on the elevator screen tick lower and lower, a swirling mix of dread and excitement starting to swim in your stomach. When you finally reach the first floor, you’re surprised to see a familiar face waiting for you in the lobby. Something in you softens, albeit just slightly. You’d incorrectly assumed he would just wait for you in the comfort of his car and spent the whole ride down preparing to awkwardly check license plates in the near dark till you found the right one.

An overwhelming sense of self-consciousness returns to you under the brightness of the lobby lights. Unconsciously, you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, wondering how long it will take him to notice you as you begin to walk towards him. You’ve only made it a few steps when it strikes you that he’s already distracted by something else.

Across the lobby, Jake Sim is engaged in a conversation with your doorman. One that looks slightly heated, by your judgment.

As you get closer, their words become more audible.

“Like I just told you,” The exasperation in your date’s voice is apparent. “I’m here to see ___.”

And you really should make your presence known, should step in and divert the brewing argument, especially since you seem to be the subject of it.

But then you look at Jake. Really look at him.

Realistically, you knew he would come well-dressed. That had been a big part of your reason for choosing him. The Sunghoon soap fiasco aside, you already knew Jake Sim wasn’t someone who needed you to put together a PowerPoint presentation on formal event dress code. He didn’t need you to explain the concept of complementary colors or the advantages of getting a suit tailored. Didn’t need you to explain that Converse were not an appropriate show or that no, a bolo tie is not acceptable attire.

Up until now, you were grateful for his pre existing knowledge. It saved you a lot of time and effort that you could use to focus on other things, like getting ready yourself. But it also meant that you were entirely unprepared to see him like this.

Eyes scanning him again, the immaculate fit of his suit is undeniable, as is the way his dark hair is perfectly mussed. It’s styled enough to avoid withering comments from elderly attendees who have the habit of asking how people see with their hair covering their eyes. But it’s also messy in a way that looks intentional, in a way that makes you want to run your fingers through it, tug at it just a little, just to tease.

It’s not just that he’s dressed well, though, despite the fact that he undeniably is.

No, what has you freezing in your footsteps is the fact that Jake looks good.

“And like I just told you, you’re not on her guest list. So I’m sorry, sir.” There is not a single trace of apology in your doorman’s voice. “But I’m afraid I can’t let you up. You’ll have to contact her and ask her to add you to her guest list.” You’re not sure how he manages to do it without losing any professionality, but your doorman makes it very clear that he thinks that will happen just as soon as hell freezes over.

Jake’s shoulders tense in visible frustration. You have to suppress an actual sigh at the way fabric stretches over the muscle there. “Again, I’m not asking you to. Could you please just let her know that I’m here? She’s not answering her messages–”

“How odd.” The sarcasm is unmistakable.

Getting a little desperate, Jake ignores the slight and continues anyway. “And we’re on a bit of a time crunch, so–”

From here, you can see the way his features start to twist in panic. It’s sobering enough to snap you out of your trance.

Cutting in, you make your presence known. “It’s okay,” you tell your doorman first. “I know him.” Then, you turn to Jake, putting on an award-worthy performance of false nonchalance when you explain, “Sorry I didn’t respond to your message. I was just on my way down.”

You watch as some of the tension drains from his features. “That’s alright,” Jake concedes easily. “I just wanted to make sure we weren’t late.”

A funny feeling, a new one, stirs again. Something in you softens. “I appreciate that.”

You can’t help the way you take another look at him. At his suit, his hair, his face. At him, at all of it.

Mistaking your gaze for scrutiny, he asks, a bit self-consciously, “What do you think? Will your mother approve?”

She will. There’s no doubt in your mind. But you’re not looking at him through her eyes when you tell him, “Yeah, you look good. Really good.”

The last part probably wasn’t necessary, but the way he flushes makes it almost worth it. Casting your eyes downward in an effort to hide a smile, you notice a detail that you missed earlier.

Jewelry. Gold jewelry. A handful of rings on his fingers and a delicate bracelet on his left wrist.

Suddenly, his message from last night makes a little more sense.

Jake [9:02 pm]: What color is your dress for tomorrow?

You [9:08 pm]: Gold. Don’t worry about trying to match. A black suit will be just fine.

Now, you’re grateful he didn’t fully listen to you, touched that he even bothered to ask.

Across from you, Jake is suddenly having a bit of a hard time breathing. The earlier near-fiasco with your doorman all but forgotten, you’re still admiring his bracelet as his eyes scan the length of you, throat bobbing by the time his gaze makes its way back up to your face.

“You, uh,” he coughs. “You look nice too.”

“Thank you.” You miss the way his gaze wanders, can’t seem to find a place to land that won’t dust the tops of his cheekbones an even deeper shade of crimson. “I’ve been looking forward to wearing this dress forever.”

And it is a nice dress, Jake thinks, but he’s not sure how to tell you that’s not what he meant.

Eyes finally landing on your feet, or rather, on the stilettos you’re wearing, he frowns. “I had to park kind of far away.” Meeting your gaze, he adds, “Why don’t you wait here? I’ll pull the car around front.”

“Okay.” Something in you melts a bit at his consideration, at the fact that he even noticed. “Thank you.”

And it is nice, you think, to not be beginning the evening with your feet already sore. To have someone pick up on the little things, even if he’s being compensated for it in the form of half-price tutoring.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you try not to sigh like a lovesick schoolgirl when he opens the door for you, when he puts his hand on the back of your seat as he reverses the car out of its parking spot. Get it together, you think. You’ve turned up your nose at far more obvious attempts at wooing you, and it’s not like Jake is here with you out of his own volition. The thought is surprisingly disappointing, as he adjusts the stereo, soft music filling the silence.

The drive passes like that, in a quiet that’s only uncomfortable if you look at it too close. Eventually, the soft melodies filtering through the stereo become a pleasant sort of background noise as you watch the world blur outside the window.

It would be smart, probably, to sort out your story for the evening and put together something coherent for when the two of you are inevitably asked invasive questions, but you can’t bring yourself to be the one to disturb the peace.

So when you arrive at the fundraiser a handful of minutes later, you just have to hope that the image the two of you strike together will be enough to stave off any unwanted questions for the time being.

Again, Jake opens your car door for you, offers a steadying hand as you step out of it. And when he gives you his arm as you enter through the front door of the venue, you take it, wrapping your fingers around his elbow. Pausing just outside the entrance, you watch as he takes a deep breath.

“Ready?” You’re not sure if you’re asking him or yourself.

Jake answers for the both of you. “Let’s do this.”

Walking through the lobby, you hand your jackets to the coat check attendant before entering the ballroom where the fundraiser is held. Despite your general distaste for this evening and everything it entails – you sneak a glance at your partner in crime. Well, mostly everything – you can’t help but admire the space around you.

Decorated immaculately down to every last element, your mother truly doesn’t spare any expense or detail when it comes to throwing parties. And like always, she somehow manages to have a sharp eye on everything and everyone, no matter how chaotic or busy. You’ve hardly taken two steps inside the ballroom when she finds you, approaches you will all the grace of a panther stalking its prey.

Pulling you in for a quick hug, the warm greeting she gives you is more for the benefit of onlookers than for you. And it forces you to remove your hand from Jake’s arm.

Looking over your shoulder, her voice is sickeningly saccharine. “And this must be James,” she beams, making eye contact with the wrong brother. Directing her attention to him, she gushes, “My daughter has told me wonderful things about you.”

Your eyebrows raise in disbelief. Jake stifles a laugh, expertly turns it into a cough.

Really? You think. She did all that digging on James’ so-called turtle philanthropy but never bothered to pull up a picture of the guy? And you mean, standard genetic similarities aside, it’s not like the two of them look that much alike.

“Actually, mom,” you spare him the expense of having to correct her mistake, “this is Jake Sim. James’ brother. We go to school together.”

“Oh,” her eyebrows fall at the slip, no doubt an unforgivable social faux pas in her mind. “You never filled out the RSVP form, sweetie,” she somehow makes the term of endearment sound like a curse, “so I wasn’t sure who you’d be bringing.” Trust her to find a way to make her mistake your fault.

Turning back to your date, she tries to remedy her mistake. “Jake, then.” She offers him a smile so forced you’re surprised her cheeks aren’t aching. Looking back at you, she fishes, “And he’s your…?”

Her dangling bait goes untouched. “He’s my plus-one.” It’s an intentional choice of words on your part. In your mind, it’s a neutral enough term that will hopefully let you navigate the evening without too many rumors or invasive questions about your personal life from people you only speak to out of reluctant obligation.

Jake is less used to the way your mother tends to poke and prod, the way she likes to examine the superficial details of your life with a microscope and make sure she can frame them in a way that will be pleasing for public perception. The way she doesn’t ask about your love life because it’s of any genuine interest to her, but because she wants sole control of the rumor mill’s production.

Next to you, he stiffens, feels as though he’s already failed some kind of test he didn’t know he was taking, wasn’t given any materials to study for.

There’s a lot to be said, probably, about the way you pick up on his discomfort so easily. The way your hand returns to the crook of his elbow wordlessly and gives a single, gentle squeeze. Reassuring him, putting his nerves at ease, as you begin to navigate your way out of this conversation.

“We’d better find our seats,” you tell your mother. The only reason Jake can identify the icy edge hiding in the superficial sweetness of your voice is because he’s been on the receiving end of it. On multiple occasions. Directed at someone else, he finds it almost amusing. “Wouldn't want to miss anything.”

“Of course,” your mother concedes, but there’s an undertone there. Jake can tell that there’s a war being waged here, battles and skirmishes in subtext and stilted pauses. He’s no stranger to the way high society likes to wrap up insults in niceties and skirt around delicate topics, but his own family has never been anything but blunt when it comes to their distaste for him and his choices.

He’s still not entirely sure what he just witnessed, but you’re dragging him by his arm to find your assigned table before he can sort through the offending slights and put on armor that may be of any use to you.

Carefully arranged, the maze of tables is easy enough to navigate. Each seat has a white place card in front of it, embossed with a shimmery golden script that matches your dress and holds the name of the guest who’s been assigned to sit there.

You drag Jake past a flurry of names and attendees he half recognizes, stopping only to grab two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter, handing one to Jake before you continue on your mission. After another minute of searching, you find your name at a table a few rows out from the far wall. Rolling your eyes, you can practically hear your mother’s reasoning: Not too close to the wall. Wouldn’t want people thinking I’m trying to hide her. But certainly not anywhere near the center of the room, in case she falls into that pesky habit of being an awful embarrassment.

Standing behind your chair, your eyes find the place card stationed in front of the seat next to yours at the same time Jake’s do.

“Oh my god.” The exasperation is apparent, even though your words are barely audible where you mutter them under your breath.

Because of course this hasn’t already been enough of a train wreck. Because of course the place card next to yours doesn’t have Jake’s name on it. Nope, embossed in the same shimmery gold is the name of another person entirely.

James Sim.

You turn to your date, apologetic. “God, I’m sorry. I really didn’t fill out the RSVP form, but I didn’t think she’d just assume…”

“It’s okay.” Jake gives you some grace. “Really, it wouldn’t be the first time.” And all things considered, he kind of is in his brother’s seat tonight. Attending an event that’s better suited for the future head of the company than his forgotten younger brother. Accompanying the girl that public opinion surely dictates would be a better match for him.

Still, you frown. Reaching for the small clutch that sits against your hip, you rummage for a moment before pulling out a black permanent marker.

Jake glances at you sideways.Your bag of the evening is tiny, barely even big enough to hold your phone. He’s surprised you managed to fit the marker in there, much less prioritize it enough to bring it with you. “You carry that thing around with you all the time?”

You shrug. “Never know when you’ll need to do some DIY vandalism.”

It would be a lie if he said something in him doesn’t soften, just a bit, when he watches you reach for the place card in front of his seat and put a giant, bold X over his brother’s name.

Your handwriting is no match for the computer-generated script, but Jake still likes the place card a little better when you’re done with it, likes the way his name looks next to yours when you set it back on the table, alterations completed.

“There,” you say, looking entirely too satisfied with your handiwork. “All better.” This time, you slide down into your seat before Jake has the chance to pull it out for you. Turning to him as he tentatively takes the seat next to you, he finds a small frown on your lips. “Wait,” you pause, realization written across your features. “Your brother isn’t coming, right?”

Jake shakes his head. “I mean, I don’t know for sure, but I doubt it. He has no reason to come. My parents are on a business trip, so they won’t be here either. And that also probably means he’s more swamped than usual at the office.”

Nodding, you take a sip of champagne. “Good.” Pausing, your lips quirk. “Although it would be kind of funny if he–”

“I think you’re in my seat.” The sudden interruption is flat, leaves no room for arguments.

Startled, the two of you spin in your chairs.

James Sim, despite his brother’s predictions, is in fact not otherwise occupied at his office. Instead, he stands directly behind his younger sibling, strikes an imposing figure where his shadow blocks the chandelier light behind him and extends over his brother and his altered place card.

Eyes flaming, he looks at where his name has been crossed out. Replaced.

Next to Jake, you remain silent, figure that you’ll let Jake handle this one the way he let you handle your mother. Far be it from you to step in on a family matter.

But then you notice the way Jake shrinks a little in his seat, hides a little further in his brother’s shadow. Reaches for the place card like he wishes he could take it back.

Sliding your gaze back to your least favorite Sim sibling, your voice is even, albeit icy, when you point out the obvious, “It’s not actually. Can’t you read?” Jake’s hand stops in its tracks, falls back to his lap.

A quick look your way is the only indication James even hears you. Instead, he continues his one-sided conversation with his brother, a barely controlled sort of fury crossing over his expression. “Hm,” he muses, glancing between the two of you. “Sure seems like you two are awfully close.” Casting an accusatory glare at Jake, he adds, “That’s funny. I could have sworn you said you barely knew her.”

Her. You’re sitting right there, and you don’t even get a name.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Jake either. And it turns out to be just what he needs to find his voice. You’re almost proud of the sarcasm he manages to muster when he counters, “Yeah, well, this funny thing happens when you spend time together. You actually get to know each other.” Straightening his spine, there’s an unmistakable edge in his voice when he adds, “You know, when you actually bother to show up, that is.”

You hide a laugh behind your hand, albeit not very well. Glancing at Jake, a feeling swells in your chest that you can only identify as pride. You didn’t know he had it in him.

Reassessing his strategy, James turns to you, forcing a nonchalance that is entirely contradicted by the way his cheeks are rapidly reddening. “Actually, ___,” he tries, acting as if the last thirty seconds faded out of existence at his will. “I was hoping to speak to you about something. I’d love to get you a drink if you–”

“Actually,” Jake cuts in, doubling down. “We already have drinks.” Behind you on the table, the two near full glasses of champagne are undeniable evidence. The laugh that spills out of you this time is impossible to hide. Yeah, you decide, between the two of them, you definitely hate James more. Entirely amused, the only thing you wish you had is a bowl of popcorn as you root for the underdog. Not that he needs it. Much to your satisfaction, he’s been landing his punches well.

The giggle dies on your lips, though, when you feel the warmth of another hand suddenly cover the top of yours where it rests on your thigh. Gaze flaming, James follows the movement. Startled, your eyes fly to Jake. The only view you’re offered is of his profile as he keeps his gaze trained on his brother, the challenge in his features unmistakable.

The only consolation he offers for your sudden shock is a small, reassuring squeeze against your knuckles.

And then he says, “And I’d like to keep my girlfriend right here, actually.” At that, he does finally turn to you, eyes pleading, gaze imploring when he seeks your permission. Even though they’re performative in nature, his words aren’t solely for James’ benefit. “If that’s alright with you, that is.”

Girlfriend.

You were perfectly happy in the role of the observer, but now Jake has dragged you into the spotlight. Even though it pains you, you know you can’t leave him hanging. Not when that would mean a sure victory for his dickhead of a brother.

Girlfriend. The word echoes in your head, has you feeling dizzy.

“Of course,” you return hollowly, barely recognizing the sound of your own voice over the sudden rushing in your ears. “Boyfriend.”

When you smile at him, you make sure it looks sickeningly sweet enough to deter James. Your eyes, however, flash with a warning only Jake can read.

“You’re dating?” James can’t hide his shock, and his outrage is just as obvious.

“Yep,” Jake passes you a panicked look. But you don’t need it, don’t need his convincing. You’ve already dug yourself a deep enough hole. Trying to climb out now would only mean everything crumbles.

“Sure are,” you confirm with a tight smile. Turning back to Jake, you add, “Actually, sweetie, I need to talk to you about, uh…” you scramble for a moment. Finish vaguely with, “that thing.”

“Right.” Jake picks up on the threat in your eyes seamlessly, knows there’s only one acceptable response. “That thing,” he echoes.

“Yeah, so,” you turn back to James, barely acknowledging him as you start to stand. “We’re gonna step out for a minute.”

Jake is all but putty in your hands as you switch the positioning of your grip so that the hand that was resting on yours is now encased firmly between your fingers.

“See you later,” are Jake’s breathless parting words to his brother.

“Hopefully not, though,” you alter.

And then you’re dragging him back through the crowd towards the exit, and it’s all Jake can do to not run into the other guests or knock over the delicately balanced trays of hors d’oeuvres waiters carry throughout the room. He’s at your mercy all the way through the double doors of the ballroom, and you pause only briefly to determine which hallway is less likely to have people in it before deciding on the one to the right, towing him along behind you.

Once you’re far enough away from unwanted eyes and ears, you start wiggling every door knob you come across, growing visibly more frustrated until you finally find an unlocked one. Huffing, you push Jake into the spare storage closet first. Following him in, you close the door behind you.

The sudden change in space puts you in close proximity. Your nose is only a handful of inches away from his when you start laying out accusations.

“What the hell?” With the same hand than just dragged him on a half marathon, you shove at his chest. “Boyfriend?” You have half a mind to grab the broom standing next to you and start whacking him with it.

“I’m sorry!” Jake holds his hands up defensively. He doesn’t miss the way you’re eyeing every cleaning tool around you, no doubt deciding which would make the most effective weapon. “I panicked, okay? I just hate that smug little look he gets on his face–”

“Well you’re about to be seeing ‘that smug little look’ a lot more once he calls your bluff!” you half-shout, trying to convey your anger without alerting anyone to your presence.“The timeline barely lines up to begin with. It’s only been what, a few weeks since I was supposed to go on a date with him? And that’s not to mention the fact that there won’t be anyone to corroborate our story, because we don’t spend any time together, since, y’know, we’re not dating.”

Jake begs to differ. You’ve invaded more than one of his Wednesday night statistics study sessions.

But before he can point this out, you’re continuing. “Which means you’re gonna have to come up with some sort of believable explanation for why we break up after, like, three days.”

“Ugh.” Jake drags an open palm down his face. He hates to admit it, but you do have a point there.

Fingers running through his hair, his sudden stress is apparent. And you’re not trying to send him to an early grave, but would it have killed him to think before he spoke? Consider the consequences of starting the exact kind of rumor you’ve been hoping to dodge all evening? You get that his brother is not exactly an easy person to get along with, but was the short-lived victory really worth the potential fallout?

Across from you, Jake seems to be having the same realizations. A million thoughts whirring through his brain, he’s not sure where to place his focus.

After a moment, he settles on optimism. “Look, I think it will be fine.” The more he thinks about it, the more he convinces himself he believes it. “James has been up to his ass in company stuff since the second he graduated, so it’s not like he has extra time to check up on us or anything.” And even if he did, James would have no way of knowing who to ask. Jake has the sneaking suspicion his older brother couldn’t name a single one of his friends if his life depended on it. He would have no idea who to track down to corroborate your so-called romance.

“We won’t have to do anything,” Jake reasons. “I’ll just mention you in passing for the next few weeks if he happens to ask.” Even that should be simple enough. After all, Jake seriously doubts he will. “And by the time the holidays roll around, I can just say things fizzled naturally.” Easy. Simple. Uncomplicated. Mutual, and your pride and his both remain intact. “No big deal.”

Across from him, you weigh his words. It makes sense, yes, but there’s something starting to swirl in your gut that you don’t like. It feels a little too much like dread, like trepidation. Jake can read all of the uncertainty written across your face when you tell him, “I still don’t like it. My mother and your brother were both here tonight and already got different stories from us. This could get messy really quickly. I mean, what if our families start talking–”

“They won’t.” Jake shakes his head. “Your mom thinks I’m just a plus-one, and when my name comes up in James and my father’s conversations, it isn’t to discuss the ins and outs of my dating life.” Of this, at least, Jake is sure. His father couldn’t care less who he dates, as long as it’s not a liability to him, to the company. “Besides, we're university students.” Jake tries to lighten the mood, clear some of the tension. “Twenty-one and immature and all that.” For a moment, Jake imagines what life would feel like if that’s truly all he was, if that’s the only thing he got to be. No added pressure of a notorious last name and a reputation to maintain. Tucking that thought to the back of his mind, he decides he’ll mourn it later. “A short-lived relationship with a story that doesn’t quite add up is practically a right of passage. Not something to be suspicious of.”

You remain silent for a moment, but your hand doesn’t get any closer to the broom.

“Okay.” Some of the tension seeps out of your shoulders as you turn his reasoning over in your brain, nodding as his logic starts to piece together. “Okay,” you reiterate. You still don’t like it, but he’s right about one thing: it is the best option you have.

After all, there’s no way in hell you’re about to go tell your mother that your plus-one is actually your secret boyfriend, and you hate to admit it, but James’ little smirk is incredibly agitating. And it will all blow over, you’re sure. Like Jake said, James and your mother have no real reason to talk, and if Jake is convinced that his brother won’t be spreading this particular rumor, you’ll just have to believe him for the time being.

Letting him out of the closet first, you only imitate hitting him upside the back of the head once before you catch up to him, linking arms again before reentering the ballroom.

As the evening goes on, your worry starts to subside. Thankfully, every other part of the night goes perfectly to plan, even if you do have to force yourself to laugh a little too hard at one of Jake’s awful jokes when you catch James watching the two of you. The second glass of champagne you down helps, if nothing else.

Exactly as you predicted, after two and a half hours have passed, you and Jake are sneaking out the back exit, tiptoeing to his car as the fourth speaker of the evening continues their droning speech inside the event. Your mother is none the wiser to your early departure, and you hope it’s the first in a series of victories for the evening.

When Jake drops you off just outside the front doors of your apartment building, his smile is almost reassuring enough to put that lingering sense of unease to rest where it still sits in your gut.

Makeup removed, hair washed, and evening gown traded for pajamas, sleep is slow to find you a handful of hours later. Eventually, though, it does, and your rest is undisturbed, dreamless.

…

The next morning, with nothing but the pastel tones of sunrise and the sound of his brewing coffee maker to keep him company, Jake Sim stares at the message on his phone in abject horror.

Mom [7:32 am]: I can’t believe I had to find out from your brother! Family dinner next weekend at our place. Bring your girlfriend. :)

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CONTINUED IN PART 2

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note: thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed. part two still needs some love, and I'm hoping to have it out around this same time next week. I'll announce for sure when I have a release date & time. as always, I love hearing any thoughts/comments/screaming you may have. happy reading!

#enhypen fanfiction #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen fic #enhypen ff #enhypen fanfic #enhypen au #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #jake sim #jake sim x reader #jake sim x you #jake sim scenarios #sim jaeyun #sim jaeyun x reader #sim jaeyun x you

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jeneveuxrein · 4 months

Text

best behavior (BLACKPINK Jennie)

word count: 11.2K

(this one was fun, lol)

You have a problem.

To some, it wouldn’t be considered a problem. Maybe more of a hassle, or an annoyance at the very least.

To you, however, this is nuclear. Talking a DEFCON level one type of situation.

It could’ve been easily avoided.

Almost stupidly avoided if you hadn’t been such a pushover.

You were at dinner with Rosie and Lisa two weeks ago. They invited you to join them and a couple of your other friends on a small camping trip over the coming long weekend. You considered it, but when they told you exactly who was going, the decision was easy.

“What do you mean you’re not going?” Rosie asked after hearing your answer.

“Chaeng,” You dropped your fork, reaching for your wine glass, suddenly wanting something stronger. “If she’s going, you know I can’t.”

“It’s been years, oppa. She doesn’t mind,” Lisa said, nodding reassuringly.

“We literally just got to a place where we can be in the same room and not argue,” You reasoned, finishing your drink in one gulp.

“Which is why spending a few nights with her won’t be that hard,” Rosie smiles, adding, “She already knows you’re going, and she didn’t have much to say except for cool. So I think you’ll be okay. Plus, Jisoo and my sister will be there. You won’t even have to talk to her if you don’t want to.”

Rosie had a solid argument. It slightly irritated you that she said you were going before you were even invited. You reluctantly said yes, excited to get away from the constraints of the city with the hopes you wouldn’t have to say anything more than hello to her.

Her being Kim Jennie, your ex-girlfriend.

The one who got away. The one who you royally fucked things up with. Any and all cliches fit your disaster of a relationship.

You were young at the time. And stupid.

So very stupid.

You knew the moment Jisoo introduced Jennie to you at a party that she’d be the one you were going to marry.

It took groveling and nearly losing your dignity for Jennie to finally say yes after months of asking her out, that you’d do absolutely anything to make sure she knew you only had eyes for her.

But again, you were stupid.

Before Jennie, you had a bit of a history with women. Player seemed to fit, though you thought of it more as indulgence to spend your nights with a beautiful woman. You developed a reputation that all your friends knew of your unwillingness to commit.

Everyone was surprised at Jennie when she said yes. The girls, mainly Nayeon and Jihyo, were vocal about their opinions on your relationship, but Jennie didn’t care. She brushed them off, saying that she trusted you anyway.

Something you stupidly broke.

It was even more stupid whenever you thought about it, which was more than you’d like to admit.

You were at a party, celebrating Rosie’s promotion, when you received a message from Jennie that she wouldn’t be able to make it. Something had come up at work, and she wasn’t able to leave. You didn’t bother responding, ticked off again that work had become the priority.

You’d been dating for over a year at that point, and there was a small shift in your relationship. It was subtle, but enough for you to notice. It had been a small point of contention at first, then slowly built-up resentment turned into a huge argument about not spending time together anymore.

Because for Jennie, her climbing the corporate ladder was number one. You were considered second—one-point five as she would say. You’d throw it in her face, but she was adamant it was only temporary.

You really should’ve checked your messages again before you and Chaewon drunkenly stumbled into your apartment. If you did, then you would’ve known Jennie was waiting for you.

You froze as soon as you saw your girlfriend sitting on your couch, wearing a black silk robe with the slightest hint of lace peeking at the top. The guilt immediately washed over you as soon as you heard Chaewon sigh, a quiet stupid falling from her lips before she walked out. The only reason why she came home with you was because of the picture you painted of a broken heart, something that was a blatant lie, but soon became an obvious truth.

You tried to explain, words forming sentences that had no merit, no weight that could get Jennie to believe you. She remained silent the whole time, that her last words to you before she left was I trusted you and that was that.

You technically—if you wanted to be a real asshole—didn’t cheat. Nothing happened between you and Chaewon, but it was obvious that if Jennie didn’t show up, something would’ve happened. The intention was there, but you were stupid because you were young, immature, selfish and you couldn’t be patient. She never gave you any doubt that she didn’t want to be with you, but you were just stupid.

You still had to see her after that. You couldn’t avoid it. You had the same friends, and it didn’t help that you were close to Jisoo, Rosie, and Lisa—Jennie’s best friends.

In the beginning, you apologized every time you saw her, pleading—borderline begging—for her to give you one more chance. She would walk away, but you’d reach out to pull her back. Your face would be sore and red every single time.

It got to the point where you were just as petty as she was. You mocked her every time she spoke, making faces and scoffing at any word that came from her mouth. She would curse you out and you’d just smile, eliciting an even greater reaction that Lisa had to physically restrain her away before she bruised your face.

You didn’t get a pass. Jisoo kicked you square in the gonads once she found out what happened. Rosie threatened to sue you for whatever reason she could find. Lisa just shook her head, disappointed that you did what you swore you wouldn’t.

Lisa’s reaction hurt the most, reminding you of the effort you put to be with Jennie, and that was something you couldn’t forgive yourself for, the regret weighing on your shoulders every time you were in the same room with her.

A feeble attempt to try to move on was made, but it wasn’t fair to the women who genuinely showed interest in you to be paraded in front of Jennie as a means to make her jealous.

Whether it worked or not, you didn’t know. What you did know was that almost a year after you broke up, Jennie introduced everyone to her boyfriend—Taehyung.

And intentional or not, you were jealous.

You wanted to deck him square in the jaw for some comment he made during a conversation about cheating, but Lisa was there to pull you outside, reminding you that you had every intention of cheating on Jennie because of what your relationship was at that point.

“She’s trying, oppa. She loved you too, but it wasn’t enough for you to wait,” Lisa lit up a cigarette after watching you kick a few chairs over.

That stuck with you, forcing you to mellow out whenever Jennie was there. You started to politely greet her, which she met with a cool indifference, unfazed by your change in attitude.

It became cordial at the very least. The walls were up and you didn’t have it in you to break them down. You helped build them up after all.

So the problem you’re currently experiencing could’ve just been avoided if you were firm in your no.

“Why do you look stressed out?” Rosie asks as your jaw clenches, a headache forming in between your eyebrows.

“Count how many tents we have,” You grit out, staring at the reserved camp site.

“One… Two… Three… What’s wrong… Oh,” Rosie’s voice falls flat when she realizes what the problem was. “Shit, let me go talk to Alice.”

You sigh when Rosie drops the wood she was holding on the ground, hurrying over to where Alice is. You quickly hear the siblings start to argue, causing you to sigh again because the only option that you think of is if you leave and come back to pick them up.

“Why are they arguing?” Jennie asks out of nowhere, that you drop the wood you just picked up.

“Jesus, when the hell did you get there?” You shake your head, doing everything you can to regulate your heartbeat.

“I just got here,” Jennie shrugs as if she didn’t scare you. “So what’s going on?”

“There’s only three tents,” You awkwardly answer, bracing yourself for her to yell at you for forgetting to bring the tent.

The sleeping arrangements were decided on the hike to the campsite. The Park siblings would share a tent, Lisa and Jisoo would bunk together, while you and Jennie had your own tents. When you finished putting together the third tent and went to look for the fourth, it could not be found.

“I can just sleep by the fire,” You offer, already thinking of how you’ll get sick and how your assistant will hate you for missing work.

“It’s fine,” Jennie waves you off, placing the water jugs at her feet. “We can share.”

“Wh-what?” You stutter out, eyes widening. “We don’t need to do that.”

“Stop being difficult,” Jennie rolls her eyes. “We can be adult about things, and it would make me feel bad if you got sick.”

You open and close your mouth, but no words come out. You’re rendered speechless. Jennie hasn’t said anything remotely nice to you in over three years. The fact that she’s offering to share the tent with you speaks volumes.

“Careful,” You say with the slightest hint of teasing, “It’s like you almost care about me or something.”

The muttered shut up you hear has you absolutely grinning. It goes away the second she ‘accidentally’ kicks your shin as she steps over to the log.

“Watch out, Jendeuks,” Jisoo slurs out, the effects of the soju catching up to her. It’s catching up to all of you at this point. “Oppa doesn’t behave around drunk girls, especially if he’s drunk himself.”

“Jisoo,” You roll your eyes, watching the women around you laugh at your expense.

“What?” Jisoo’s eyes narrow in your direction. “I don’t need to wake up tomorrow morning with the mandu upset for you trying something with her.”

“I’m not even going to do anything!” You raise your arms up in defense, shaking your head.

The girls, Alice included, had a field day when Jennie told them you’d be sharing the tent with her. They relentlessly teased you, almost to the point of where you’d rather get sick and end up in the hospital than having to share the next few nights with Jennie.

“Ah,” Lisa clicks her tongue, waving a finger at you, “We’d have to watch out for Jennie instead, since Taehyung broke things off with her.”

What?

“Lisa,” Jennie grits out, eyes glaring at the youngest member. “Shut the fuck up.”

“What? Who cares, he sucked anyways,” Lisa honestly answers. “He was so insecure over op–”

Jennie’s hands are over Lisa’s mouth before she could finish that sentence. It piques your interest since it sounded like their breakup had something to do with you, but you couldn’t understand how you were involved.

“On that note,” You watch Jennie and Lisa wrestle, “I’m going to bed.”

“It’s probably best if we all call it a night,” Alice stands, nodding in agreement that it was time for sleep.

“Jen,” You say, out of habit more than anything, that it has the two women stopping to look at you. When you realize your slip up, you awkwardly scratch your head, “Err, uh, you can change in the tent first, I’m just going to head to the bathroom. Leave it unzipped when you’re done, please.”

You don’t bother waiting for her to respond, knowing she’ll do it anyways.

By the time you return, the tent’s unzipped. You slip your shoes off before awkwardly climbing into the tent. It’s big enough for three people, but comfortably with two people and all their belongings. Your sleeping bags are on opposite sides of the tent, which the set-up isn’t as bad as you thought it would be.

“Hey,” You greet her quietly, unzipping your sleeping bag to add another layer of warmth since the temperature suddenly dropped as soon as the sun set.

“Hi, do you need to change?” Jennie asks politely, head tilting towards the tent entrance.

You shake your head, deeming your sweats and hoodie were more than enough since you had an extra blanket. “I’m good.”

“Okay, well,” Jennie shuts off the lamp once you’re tucked in, “Good night.”

“Good night,” You murmur, listening to the fabric rustle as she settles into her sleeping bag.

Once it goes completely silent, except for the not-so-hushed conversation between Jisoo and Lisa from the other tent, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Your eyes slowly close before sleep takes you, the tiredness from the day knocking you out.

You hear your name being called out, forcing you out of your slumber. It couldn’t be that early based on the small amount of light casted on the tent.

You look around before hearing your name again and realize Jennie’s the one saying it.

“Jennie?” You whisper out, sitting up to Jennie’s sleeping bag much closer to yours than where it was before you fell asleep.

What happens next has you sinking back into your sleeping bag when Jennie moans, a sound you’re all-too familiar with.

Fuck is all that crosses your mind. You’re completely fucked and if there was some higher being out there, you would pray to them every day on your knees to get you out of this situation. It’s probably retribution for all the wrongs you’ve ever done in your life, and to hear your ex-girlfriend moan your name while she’s asleep is the worst kind of fate.

You never thought you’d hear her like that ever again, but it reminds you of all the times she did.

You wouldn’t exactly say you had a high sex drive because you are human, but when it came to sex and threw Jennie in the mix, it was hard for you to control yourself. Your relationship was physical, as expected from any healthy relationship, but there was something that could never compare to the other women you’ve known so intimately.

When she told you she loved you, you made sure you showed her exactly how much you loved her right back.

You were into kinks and the like, but the word daddy out of her mouth had you fucking her like your life depended on it.

Sometimes it did. She would always want more, losing herself around you that had you lost with her, but you’d find each other in the end.

So yeah, the universe or higher being or whoever the fuck has it out for you.

“Daddy,” Jennie moans out, louder than she probably intended that you had to get the fuck out of the tent and jump off a cliff and into the lake.

“Fuck,” Your body’s conditioned to have a visceral response, that it starts to react to her mumblings. You feel hot as the blood rushes south, awakening your cock as her breaths get breathier.

You nearly stumble out of the tent, the cool air hitting your lungs as you get your footing. You ignore the pit in your stomach, brushing away all thoughts of Jennie like that. You fucked up any chance to be with her the moment you showed up to your apartment with another woman.

You let out a quiet groan before deciding that you might as well prepare breakfast.

You avoid Jennie for most of the day.

You couldn’t look her in the eye once she woke up after hearing her and whatever dream she had of you. It almost felt too personal to witness that, especially without her knowing.

It wasn’t easy though with Rosie and Lisa doing everything in their power to make sure you were paired off together. The thought of them scheming to get you back together crossed your mind, mainly because they both knew how you felt and if the chance ever arose, you’d do anything to be with Jennie again. It was a fleeting thought because hell would have to freeze over.

You could have been imagining things, but Jennie seemed to avoid you as well. She wouldn’t make eye contact with you when you spoke. She would give little to no response when you were part of a conversation.

The day just started off weird, yet you still have this get-together with the people from a neighboring campsite after meeting them on the hike.

Lisa wraps an arm around your neck, “Anyone catch your attention?” She asks loudly as you follow the rest of the girls.

“No,” You scoff, rolling your eyes as you shake her hold off you.

“It’s okay if there is, you know,” Lisa says as she falls in step with you. “Just make sure you do whatever activities at their campsite. I’m pretty sure that’s where Jennie-unnie draws the line.”

“He could do whatever the fuck he wants,” Jennie comments from in front of you.

“Such a masochist, unnie,” Rosie drawls out. “Hearing an ex fool around would kill me.”

You’re about to tell both of them to knock it off, but Jennie’s faster, “He’s not going to fool around with anyone, right?” She stops in her tracks, causing you to bump into her, hand reflexively reaching out to steady her so she wouldn’t fall.

“Controlling,” Jisoo mutters, but everyone hears her loud and clear.

It puts you on the spot because on one hand, you have nothing stopping you from doing anything, while on the other hand, you’re trying your best to at least get to the point where you could be friends with Jennie.

“Right,” You concede, surprising yourself and the women around you. You quickly drop your hand, giving Jennie a tight smile as she stares at you.

Best behavior you think to yourself once the group starts walking again.

Best behavior, as you so called it, applied to you. It didn’t, however, apply to others.

You could not control the behaviors of other people, no matter how much you try.

It’s been ‘nice’ hanging out with the girls from the nearby campsite. You use ‘nice’ loosely because it’s been hell for you having to balance the woman on your lap and the woman across the fire glaring at you everytime you look up.

As soon as you sat down, one of the girls—Ryujin—beelined for you, taking most of your attention away from everyone else.

Ryujin’s pretty. You have eyes, and you’d think most people would agree. She seemed shy when you met her on the hike, but something was different by the time you arrived. You chalked it up to the few empty soju bottles you saw that they had already started drinking. She was a lot more forward, throwing your whole best behavior self-talk down the drain.

How she ended up in your lap? You have no idea. You tried to politely push her off, but you didn’t want to cause a scene.

“Wanna hang out in my tent?” Ryujin whispers, the faint scent of alcohol lingering in her breath.

The implication was there.

If it was any other situation where your ex-girlfriend wasn’t there, you would.

But said ex-girlfriend is there.

From the corner of your eye, Jennie stands, whispering something in Rosie’s ear that has her standing as well.

“I’ll walk back with you,” Your ears perk up.

“It’s really fine, Chaengie. I’m just tired from today,” Jennie forces a smile, but you sensed something else was off.

“Are you sure?” Which Jennie nods before bidding farewell to the others.

Jennie, however, doesn’t say anything to you and leaves before you could ask if she was okay.

“So…what do you say?” Ryujin’s voice tears your gaze away from Jennie’s retreating figure.

“I’m sorry, I should go with her,” You gently tap at her shoulder, which she begrudgingly stands.

It catches the attention of the others, prompting Lisa to ask what you’re doing when you fold the blanket, handing it to Ryujin.

“I’m going,” You shrug as if it’s no big deal. You don’t miss the way Lisa and Rosie’s head tilt. Jisoo rolls her eyes while Alice just drinks, oblivious.

“What a gentleman,” Yuna comments, her friends nodding in agreement.

You tell the girls that it was nice meeting them, that maybe you’ll see them in Seoul because Lisa will definitely want to see them again. Ryujin gives you a longer-than-necessary hug, which Jisoo snickers because your friends know the exact reason why you’re leaving so abruptly.

Jennie walks fast.

For someone who’s one of the smallest in the group, she gained some distance from the campsite before you finally caught up.

“Jennie,” You call out a couple meters away. She stops, but doesn’t turn around. It gives you enough time to meet her.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be? Like in Ryujin’s tent?” Her voice is cold, distant, detached even. It immediately takes you back to that night.

When you don’t respond, Jennie walks away.

You won’t make the same mistake again and if it leaves you with a black eye, it is what it is.

You don’t let her get that far, reaching for her shoulder that she shrugs you off before turning around so fast that you almost lose your balance.

“Don’t touch me,” Jennie says sharply.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You ask. She’s starting to actually piss you off. You’re sure that if you weren’t a bottle of soju in, you wouldn’t get this upset. You’d rather blame it on the alcohol than unresolved feelings.

Jennie scoffs, rolling her eyes, “My problem? You’re seriously asking me what my problem is?”

“Did I fucking stutter?”

Her next move has your cheek stinging.

“Jennie, what the fuck,” You rub your face. She’s slapped you before, but there was actual force behind that one.

“You’re my fucking problem. To this fucking day, you’re still my fucking problem,” Jennie suddenly invades your space, chest against yours as she looks up at you.

“I’m not even doing anything,” You sigh, dejected and tired. If there’s one thing you don’t want to do right now is to argue with her.

“You are. Just being around you is so fucking hard,” Loose fists hit your chest three times before she collapses into you. “Do you not understand how hard it is to watch some girl throw herself at you and you fucking entertain it?”

Her confession catches you off guard because you always wondered what she thought when you were around girls. You gently place your hands on her waist, and her body freezes.

“Jen,” You say quietly.

“No, I can’t do this,” Jennie’s out of your hold, walking away.

It takes you a minute because there’s a lot for you to process, but you act quickly, following after her.

Thankfully the fire you lit still burns bright, and you see Jennie’s near the tent.

You call her name out before she could unzip the tent. When she doesn’t face you, you jog toward her, refusing to let this go.

“Can you just talk to me? You’re getting mad at me for doing something I can’t control,” You almost reach for her again, but experience has taught you to tread lightly.

“What’s there to talk about? We’re not together so if you want to fuck Ryujin, be my guest,” Jennie says lowly.

“Did you want me to?” Your temper flares, words cutting right through you. “Did you want to hear me fuck someone? Rosie was right, you are a masochist.”

Jennie turns suddenly, her arm winding back but you’re quicker this time, grabbing her arm.

“Let fucking go of me,” Jennie struggles in your grasp, but you’ve always been stronger.

“No,” You pull her body flush against yours before wrapping an arm around her waist, securing her tightly. Her head falls back, eyes narrowing. “You’re being a fucking brat.”

“And what’re you going to do about it?” You watch her expression darken, a look you haven’t seen in years.

“This,” You slam your lips on hers, swallowing the gasp she lets out once your teeth meet.

You feel everything.

The way her arms try to break free from your hold.

The way her hips fold, but can’t go anywhere.

The way her breath hits you as you move your mouth, granting you access before her body relaxes.

The way she presses herself against you.

“This good enough?” You murmur in between kisses, her arms snaking around your neck as she melts into the kiss.

“I’ve had better,” Jennie taunts, slightly panting as you gently bite her lip.

“Then you don’t need me,” You move your tongue in her mouth swiftly before pulling away.

“Wait, what’re you doing? Come back,” Jennie stands on her tiptoes as she tries to bring you back.

“You said you had better,” Raising an eyebrow as you loosen your grip, but Jennie’s arms are ironclad around you. “So…” You shrug.

“No no,” Jennie shakes her head, biting her lip as she stares at you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

“Off Jen,” You say simply and she complies, hands at her side has you stepping back.

It’s a dynamic you’re familiar with.

It’s toxic at the minimum.

Degrading at its absolute worst.

You and Jennie hardly argued. You could count on both hands the amount of blow ups you’ve had. It would get aggressive, but with what followed after, was so much better. It might not have been the healthiest way to deal with conflict, but you’d work through it—blissed out, hormones working in overdrive.

“Please,” Jennie says quietly.

“Please what?” You cross your arms, gaze never breaking as you watch the internal war she’s having with herself.

It’s a bit risky to do this right here, right now, but you’re hyper-aware of the effect she’s having on your body. If she responds the way you want her to, you’ll be sent into overdrive.

“Please,” She shakes her head, eyes casting down.

“Say it,” You gently cup her chin, tilting her head backwards as your lips ghost against hers, “Say it, princess.”

Jennie lets out a moan, a breathy one at that before she says what you’ve missed so much.

“Please, daddy.”

“Good girl,” You kiss her sweetly this time, an almost tender kiss that has her sneaking a hand underneath your hoodie. “Ah, ah, did I say you could touch me?”

Jennie’s head shakes, her lips never leaving only to say, “No.”

“If you want to get fucked, behave,” She immediately pulls her hand out from underneath, wrinkling your clothes as she waits in anticipation. You’re at the point of no return.

She’s the only one that could bring this side out of you.

“Yes sir,” Jennie says, voice shaking.

Without a word, you let her go. You smirk at the whine she lets out.

You unzip the tent and grab her hand, fingers interlaced before dragging her inside. You ask her to sit while you rearrange the sleeping bags. She offers to help, but you shake your head since it won’t take long. It helps that the sleeping bags are a matching set, allowing you to easily make one giant sleeping bag.

When you finish, it’s obvious that Jennie’s doubting this, the etch of concern on her face says it all. It forces you to switch into the side you’ve always been when it came to her because she was the most important, her comfort was your top priority—still is.

“Jen,” You say softly, scooting over to her before stretching your legs around her. She looks up, and something scratches at your ribcage, “We don’t have to. Swear. We can forget this happened.”

Like you could.

The thought of asking for a transfer abroad crosses your mind so you wouldn’t have to see her.

“I couldn’t do that,” Her voice is quiet, the slight tremble you’d hear whenever she’d whisper her fears, on top of the pillow, head tucked under your chin. “It did happen. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Jen-” She shakes her head.

“I… Don’t laugh okay,” Jennie swings her legs around, crossing them as she takes your hands. “It’s just confusing right now. Yes, Tae broke up with me, but not for the reason you think. It’s actually stupid.”

“Okay I won’t laugh, so shoot.”

Jennie starts playing with your fingers, tickling the skin that has your back shivering, as she tells you what happened. They were fooling around—you really didn’t want to hear that—and Tae asked her to call him daddy. She thought he was joking because she never got the impression he was into that. She described their sex life as vanilla, not that she minded. Her desires weren’t strong enough to make him do them, and she liked him enough to let that go.

The part that had your eyes open like saucers was when she said she wouldn’t. She opened her mouth to say it, but her voice got caught in her throat. She couldn’t say it, it felt wrong to.

“Uh so what you’re saying is—”

“Shh,” Jennie pinches your palm, “I’m not finished.”

Taehyung took offense when she shook her head. He stood, demanding why not. She really couldn’t think of a reason. She tried to play it off like she wasn’t into that, but he didn’t believe her.

Then he brought you into the conversation. By his logic, you were the last boyfriend so it had to be because of you. You were also Jennie’s first serious relationship.

She denied that because there was no reason as to why it would. They argued, going back and forth about why you were still in her life. It ended with him leaving her apartment, needing to cool off.

There were a couple days in between before they spoke again. He had his clarity, realizing he overreacted and didn’t want to push her if that wasn’t something she was into.

On her end, Jennie was confused. It struck something in her when he said that she never got over you. In the heat of the moment, she didn’t pay it any mind. As soon as he left, it came barreling back.

She thought it was because he was jealous. He always sighed whenever she mentioned you’d be at the same events. He would be more affectionate whenever you were around. It didn’t cross her mind, but that was the only thing that made sense.

Then the idea of calling Taehyung, her current boyfriend, daddy has her stomach in knots. It didn’t feel right at the mental image of him and that word together. Her mind drifted to yours and she shot up from the bed when she she slipped her hand underneath her shorts.

“So again, for my understanding, is that—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jennie rolls her eyes, slapping your thigh.

When you chuckle, she glares.

“Sorry sorry, continue.”

Jennie couldn’t believe it. She had no way to explain the visceral response her body had at the thought of you. She admitted that she actively pushed down any thoughts of you as soon as you broke up, adding that no other guy ever made her feel the way you did.

(That comment went straight to your head, which she must have seen the way your face lit up because she punched your inner thigh.)

When it was Jennie’s turn to speak, what she originally wanted to say was not what actually came out. She wanted to break up. In that short time apart, her attraction for him dipped and she didn’t want to be with him anymore. She called it a change of heart and that the relationship ran its course. He wasn’t expecting that, pleading that he’ll be better, but she was firm in her decision.

She took the break-up as it was. She expected to be sad, which she was. She explains she gave herself time to think and process what she actually felt. It didn’t help that she saw you frequently, confusing her feelings. She wanted you, but at the same time, she didn’t think she could trust you.

“Then, you fucking wrap your coat around me one night after dinner and when I asked you what the hell you were doing, you just shrugged, saying I looked cold,” You remember that night. She was running late and forgot to bring a jacket. She cursed you out in front of everyone, but you didn’t care. You were used to that. You did, however, care if she was cold. “And it was obvious you still cared about me.”

“Well yeah,” You say pointedly. “Nothing physical happened between Chaewon and me. Yeah she might’ve been all over me, but I never kissed her.”

“But you would’ve, right? If I wasn’t there,” Jennie lets go of your hands.

“I don’t know, probably,” You shrug. That night still haunts you, and it’s not the most pleasant thing for you to think about. She gives you a look, but doesn’t say anything else.

“So yeah, that’s why we broke up,” Jennie’s hands fold onto her lap.

“All I’m getting is that you belong to me,” You smirk as she rolls her eyes. You act as if you completely missed the point of the story. You didn’t, but it went straight to your cock finding out Jennie touched herself because of you.

“I’m not your fucking property,” Jennie deadpans.

“I’m not saying you are. What I am saying, however,” You scoot closer to her, moving her hands out of the way before reaching for her hips, easily lifting her on top of you, “Is that your body wants me.”

“Not true,” Jennie’s voice shakes when your lips ghost along her neck.

“We don’t have to decide what this is right now. You know, deep down, I want to be together. I was–still am–serious about marrying you, that hasn’t changed,” You press your lips underneath her jaw, head tilting back to give you more access, “I’m sure you won’t make it easy for me.”

“Who said we’re getting back together?” Jennie sighs as her hands rest on your neck, hair threading through her fingers.

“Me,” You murmur, sucking slightly on her skin. “So let me start now, okay?”

“Fine,” You smile against her skin, tongue soothing the mark you know everyone will tease her if they see it. She tugs you off, a pout forming on your face, “Slow?”

“Whatever you want, princess,” You tease, sucking in a breath when her body rolls, hands gripping her waist a little tighter. “Your call tonight.”

Jennie stares at you for a moment, and you don’t waver, keeping her gaze to show you’re serious.

“Mine?”

“Yours.”

A double entendre.

Jennie slips her hands underneath your sweater, pulling it off you, exposing your bare torso, before bringing you in for a heated kiss. Your body quickly reacts, cock stiff as she grounds her hips over you. You’re fighting for dominance as your tongues wrestle, swallowing all the airy pants and gasps falling from her mouth.

“Fuck,” You moan as she bites hard on your bottom lip. “I thought you wanted slow.”

“You talk too much,” Jennie gets out in between kisses.

“I thought you liked it when I talk,” You detach your lips, trailing them along her jawline. Sweet kisses have her body shivering.

“I preferred it when your mouth did other things,” Jennie breathes out, head falling back as you nip on her skin.

“Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it,” You say lowly as you continue your onslaught all over her neck. She’ll probably have to wear your hoodie to cover all the love bites, and she’ll definitely yell at you in the morning.

You do not care.

“You know what I want.”

You do, but you won’t make it this easy for her.

“Probably,” Your hands guide her movement, applying delicious friction over your sweats. It garners you a deep moan as she grabs your shoulders to steady herself. “But you know I like hearing you princess.”

Jennie loudly moans after a particularly hard suck, fingers pulling on your hair as her hips circle over you. She mumbles something that you can’t quite hear, sneaking a hand underneath her hoodie. Her body shivers at your touch.

“What’d you say?” Thumb rubbing gentle circles over her back.

“Fuck me.”

“Be more specific,” You taunt, the warmth emanating in between your bodies, and you just know she’s fucking soaked.

“You’re being a fucking tease,” Jennie groans once your lips meet her collarbone, “We don’t have that much time.”

She has a point. You’re not sure when the others will return, but Alice will make everyone leave if they get too much.

“You know I can’t just fuck you,” You murmur, burying your face into her neck. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Jennie whimpers, grinding herself over you, the ache in your cock has you groaning. “I can take you.”

“I have to stretch you out, princess.” Not that you’re bragging, but you know you’re well above the average. The amount of shock through the years said enough.

Jennie shakes her head as her hips lift from her position. You whine, in an attempt to pull her back, but she stands, untying her sweats before it falls down her legs.

Your mouth waters at the site of Jennie’s pussy right above you. The dim lighting of the tent lamp shines a slick dripping down her inner thighs. She’s absolutely gushing and it turns you on that it was all because of you. You quickly slip the waistband of your sweats down, freeing your cock. It slaps against your stomach, and you notice your tip weeping leaking.

“You want my mouth, baby?” You stare up at her, uncaring as you lick your lips. You could almost taste her. Your hand encloses around your length, slowly stroking yourself as you imagine your face in between her legs.

Jennie shakes her head once again, gently tilting your head back to give her a better view of you touching yourself, “Lay back.”

You don’t hesitate. You follow her command, keeping a steady pace with your hand as you watch Jennie step over you, feet falling on the outsides of your legs.

Jennie lowers herself, shutting the lights off and keeping her gaze on yours. You sharply inhale as the apex of her thighs get closer to your cock, increasing your movement that your forearm starts to burn.

The moment her slick touches the tip of your cock, Jennie squeals, biting her lip to muffle the sound. You groan, dropping your hand as your length slides in between her lips.

“Jen,” You pant, hands shooting to her hips to steady her, but it ends up dragging her wetness all over your cock. “I need to prep—”

“No, no,” Jennie’s eyes roll back as her hips rock over yours. “I can handle you. I’m so fucking wet for you. Let me, please daddy please.”

It’s like a switch went off as she moans, rolling her body in a wave as she rubs herself over you.

“Princess,” The nickname has her mewling, hips stuttering as your cock hits her clit. “Tonight’s about you.”

“I want your cock, daddy.” She falls forward, arms resting on your chest as her hair covers your face. She kisses your neck, heavy breaths, as her hips swirl. “It’s been so long. I need to be filled.”

Her filthy words have you blindly thrusting up, brushing through her lower lips as she moans into your skin.

“Good ahead, baby.”

Jennie reaches her hand backwards, fingers delicately wrapping along your girth. You buck into her hand, groaning as she rubs it around her hole. Once she guides your tip into her entrance, her hips seductively roll down to take you in.

You swear you see stars the moment her pussy wraps around the head, her walls squeezing you tightly. Her hands press hard into your chest, pushing her body upright as you watch her head fall back. When your eyes glance down, you groan at the sight of your cock in between her legs.

“Daddy,” Jennie’s eyes open slowly, breaking your gaze to her eyes low, lust taking over as she lowers herself more.

“Yes princess?” You suck in a breath as her slick drips down your cock.

“Tell me I’m good,” Jennie circles her hips, knees spreading slightly as her body adjusts to your size. “I’m being good right?”

“Good girls take all of me,” You watch, hypnotized as she continues her movement, your length gradually disappearing more and more. Her body recoils before dropping even lower that your hands tightly grip her waist.

“Daddy,” Her nails dig into your skin, hips shaking side to side. “Please, I’ll be good. Let me be good.” She trembles in your hold, walls accommodating your size.

Your resolve’s slipping. Fast.

With Jennie moaning and the sight of her struggling to take you in has your hands dropping. You mutter a fuck as the pressure around your cock increases tenfold, her body tensing as nails raking down your chest. The pain is short-lived as the warmth from her walls spurs you on, causing an involuntary thrust up as gravity pushes her down.

“Holy shit, Jen.” Your eyes snap to see your length gone, fully sheathed inside her as her pussy tightens.

Jennie freezes, hands gripping your sides, before letting out a filthy moan.

“Daddy, am I being good?” She leans back, her hands on your knees before slowly rolling her hips up.

“So fucking good,” You don’t recognize your voice, eyes locked on watching your cock appear in between her legs.

“I missed you,” Her body shivers as she takes you in again.

It’s a confession, something she’s been holding in for a while based on how she rides you slowly, intently, purposefully—to remind you just what you’ve been missing since.

All you can do is moan because she feels too good wrapped around you, the overstimulation of her walls hugging your cock in the best kind of way. Sex has always felt good, but with her, it just feels like more.

Your hand slips underneath her hoodie, gently palming her breasts as she moves above you. She’s always been reactive to your touch, and you couldn’t forget the spots that always have her begging for more.

“Such a good girl,” You watch her hips gyrate into figure eights, hypnotizing you as she mewls with every roll. Her walls tighten at the praise, her slick getting slicker.

Jennie’s mouth is suddenly on your lips, attacking with such gusto as her pace increases. Her clit brushes against your public bone and you can feel her impending orgasm from her pussy’s death-like grip.

If this is how you go, what a way to die.

Your hands find hers, interlacing your fingers together. She never breaks away, shoving her tongue into your mouth as she pants and moans like the good girl she is. She brings your arms overhead, hips grounding on top of yours.

“I’m gonna cum daddy,” Jennie mumbles weakly against you, her hips stutter, pace erratic as she fucks herself all over your cock.

You snap your waist upward, leaving no spot in between her walls untouched, and she loses it. She lets go of your hands, arms wrapping tightly around your neck as she holds on.

All you can focus on is getting her to cum because time is running out. You continue thrusting, hands easily finding her hips as you guide her movements, the sound of your bodies spurring you on.

“Baby,” You grit out, hips erratically pounding up into her. The change in nickname meant you were close, too close that you might release inside of her.

“Do it daddy,” Jennie raises her head slightly, eyes locked onto yours. “You know you want to,” She whispers, breath ghosting over your lips as her body slams against yours.

“Princess wants me to cum inside her?” You breathe out, hands trailing down to cup her buttocks, massaging the flesh.

“Yes,” Jennie whines, “Please.”

You’re getting closer and closer, and it’s helping almost too well that Jennie mumbles the dirtiest things, too explicit that if it was anyone else, they’d run away.

It’s you though, too turned on by her body and her words that as soon as the words breed me daddy fall from her lips you lose it. Your orgasm crashes through your body. You sit up as Jennie continues working herself over your cock, feeling you release, wailing, whimpering as it floods her.

Jennie’s body seizes in your hold, back arching as her walls suddenly spasm around your length, prolonging your orgasm. You swear her pussy’s pulsing and your vision goes white, holding her tightly against your chest as you rut into her.

Her teeth sink into your shoulder, the pain adding to the pleasure, as she fails miserably to muffle her scream. You pray to whatever higher beings there are that the others aren’t on their way back yet because she’s loud.

You gasp for air as her chest heaves on top of yours.

You weren’t expecting to have sex this weekend, let alone Jennie of all people. You’ve toned down on the nights with random women, something Rosie and Lisa commend you for. It wasn’t without question, which you were honest that you wanted to at least try to have another relationship.

You rub soothingly over Jennie’s skin, body slightly shivering at the contact as goosebumps form underneath your touch.

“Hi,” Jennie mumbles against your neck, still a bit breathy as she catches her breath.

“Hi yourself,” You squeeze the pliable muscle, molding against your hand. “You’re okay, right?” You’re concerned because you both went a little—a lot—rough on each other’s bodies.

“Yes,” Jennie taps your nose playfully. “I forgot how big you were.”

The thing is, her position hasn’t changed. The comment goes straight to your head and your cock throbs, already overly sensitive, along Jennie’s warm, snug walls.

Naturally, she feels it, letting out a surprised moan that has her burying her face back into your neck.

“Sorry,” You breathe out, the only word you could properly form.

“You’re such a guy,” Jennie chuckles. “Immediately reacting to hearing anything related to your dick size.”

You apologize again, which she tells you it’s okay. Casually mentioning that you’re the biggest she’s ever had anyways. You lift her off you, hissing as your cock feels like it can breathe after suffocating inside Jennie.

“Ass,” Jennie says simply, rolling off you to perfectly slot her head on your shoulder.

Maybe it’s the hormones. Or maybe it’s the denial.

Reality soon sets in as you just had sex with your ex-girlfriend. You even had the nerve to play into your favorite dynamic.

“Jen-” Two fingers are on your lips.

“Don’t ruin the moment,” Jennie says quietly.

“But-” You try to say something, but the gentle press stops you.

“I know we have to talk, but I’m sore and exhausted,” Jennie sighs. The crack of twigs and leaves alerts your brain. “We’ll talk. We obviously have to, but later okay?” Rosie’s singing something off tune, and it’s louder than it was a few moments ago.

“Okay,” Is all you can say, as her fingers trail along your jawline. It’s an intimate move, turning your head the slightest to feel the gentle pressure of Jennie’s lips against yours.

You wake up alone in the tent, the sound of the girls laughing disrupts your sleep. You rub your eyes as soon as you walk out, the conversation falling quiet.

“Good morning, oppa,” Alice greets as you yawn.

You send a lazy wave, searching for a seat, which ironically was in between Jennie and Lisa. You notice Jennie’s wearing one of the sweaters you packed. You also notice how it’s zipped to the top, completely covering her neck.

“You missed out last night,” Rosie picks up where the conversation left off. “We were just telling Jennie how Lisa unintentionally walked away with Lia’s phone number.”

“I didn’t know she was into girls,” Lisa defends, shaking her head.

“It’s okay,” Jisoo pats her on the head. “The one time you don’t try to get a girl’s number, you do. Take it for what it is.”

It earns you a chuckle as Alice hands you a plate, a grateful smile sent her way as you realize how hungry you are.

“Well, at least I can take oppa with me,” Lisa shrugs.

“Uh what? I’m not going to be some third wheel,” You say after taking a bite.

“No, dumb dumb,” Rosie scoffs. “Ryujin. She was totally into you.”

From the corner of your eye, Jennie’s body tenses.

It goes unnoticed by the others, too engrossed with the conversation, but you’ve always been acutely aware of how Jennie feels. She acts cold and distant with most people, but it’s all part of a façade. It especially breaks down when it involves you. Everyone knew when she was upset with you because she wore it on her face.

“Oh well-”

“You seemed pretty interested,” Alice comments behind her mug.

“I was just being nice,” You weren’t interested to an extent. Under different circumstances, the probability of something happening was high. You cared more about how Jennie, and that paid off.

“You’re always being nice,” Lisa raises her hands, both sets of index and middle fingers bending flexing twice.

Jennie’s standing again, which you don’t understand why this woman can’t just sit still. You sense her irritation rolling in your direction. You internally sigh as her attitude, this early in the morning, was more a nuisance than anything.

You don’t say anything when Jennie tells the group that she’s going to take a shower at the community center. For what it’s worth, it’s like a spa with private baths and showers the size of your tiny one-bedroom apartment. She hardly glances your way, but there’s something in your gut telling you to go with her.

After you finish eating, of course.

Your head snaps back, groaning as it hits the bathroom tile. You watch how Jennie’s eyes never leave yours and it’s taking everything in you not to cum right then and there.

Her mouth is dangerous and she knows it.

“Daddy,” Jennie sucks in a breath, keeping her hand wrapped tightly around your cock. “I have a question for you.”

Her innocent expression pales in comparison to what her hand’s actually doing. She languidly strokes your cock. Too lost in the sensation that you almost don’t hear her question.

“What?” You ask.

“Are you going to go on a date with Ryujin?” Jennie asks, leaning ever so slight to run her tongue along your length.

It clicks why Jennie suddenly appeared in your private shower. There’s a somewhat strict policy about men and women showers, but when you heard a knock on your door, you weren’t expecting her to be on the other side.

Jennie didn’t answer why she was there when you asked, but her dropping to her knees as soon as you shut the door, it was obvious she had a plan in mind.

“Staking your claim on me already?” You quip, hand cupping her face. It’s not the smartest move to taunt her, especially with her hand wrapped around you.

Jennie clicks her tongue, rolling her eyes, “Like there’s anything to claim.”

“And if I do?” You trail your finger along her jawline, watching her eyes narrow in the process. “What’re you going to do about it?”

The thing with Jennie, that she’ll deny to you and swear up and down to anyone else, is that she gets jealous. You learned that very quickly when you started dating. She wouldn’t say anything if a girl spoke to you, but afterwards when you were alone, she’d remind you that you were hers.

She’s naturally possessive of you, and you reaped the benefits in some sick power play she’d try to carry out.

“You won’t,” Jennie’s mouth wraps around your cock, her tongue doing things that need to be studied because it feels too good.

“Why is that princess?” You ask as she takes you in deeper.

Instead of answering, Jennie goes lower, your tip hitting the back of her throat. She fucking swallows around your cock and it has your muscles tensing. You have to make sure you don’t go too far, as much as you want to, because it’s still been a while. She repeats the movement, letting off the slightest before taking more of you in. She keeps her mouth tight around your girth, hollowing out her cheeks that has you feel lightheaded.

“I bet Ryujin could take all of me,” You goad, watching as her pace increases, fucking your cock down her throat. “She could be my princess next.”

It’s a dirty move, but an empty threat. Jennie knows at her core that only she’s deemed worthy of that name.

But it has the best results as she takes all of you. Her lips press against your pubic bone, staring up at you and it’s a beautiful sight to see your ex-girlfriend’s face stuffed with your cock.

Jennie holds it for what feels like a lifetime before slowly bobbing her head up. “Don’t be a fucking ass.”

“Then prove me wrong.”

(She does, exploding on her face a minute later.)

“You two are being weird,” Rosie comments as you grill the meat.

“What?” You ask distractedly to make sure the bulgogi doesn’t burn unevenly.

“You and Jennie.”

“What are you talking about?” You set the tongs down after flipping the pieces.

“I can’t put my finger on it yet, but there’s something different about you two.”

You don’t respond, feigning being busy by unwrapping the other meats.

Sure, you had sex last night. And sure, Jennie made a mess of you in the showers, but you couldn’t exactly tell your friends that. Their reaction is something you’re not prepared for yet.

“But you two aren’t fighting right? I know that you were already reluctant about this whole trip, and the sleeping arrangements were a bust, but it isn’t as bad as you thought it would be, right?”

Definitely not is what you want to say, but you know Rosie wouldn’t let you get away with saying that.

“No, not fighting. We’re making it work,” You answer vaguely.

It is the last night of the trip, which thankfully the group decided on having a calmer night since you have to trek back to the city in the morning.

“Good,” Rosie nods approvingly. “Hopefully everything will still be okay when we get back.”

You have a nice buzz going as you settle in your sleeping bag. Jennie slips herself next to you, slotting a leg over yours before curling into your side. You smell the alcohol from her breath as she sighs contentedly.

She’s a bit drunk compared to you, thanks to Lisa offering shots with dinner. She practically sat on your lap in front of everyone that it surprised you, but the others even more. Rosie gave you a pointed look, realizing that something did happen between you two, but thankfully doesn’t comment.

“I want you,” Jennie murmurs against your neck, breathing warm air against your skin. It sends a shiver down your spine, but you know now is not the time. She drives a hard bargain to not take her right then and there when she says, “I’m so wet for you. Having you cum all over me earlier left me wanting more.”

“Princess not now,” You gulp, cock stirring at the words. “There’s people here.”

“So? You don’t want them to hear how well you fuck me?” Jennie’s hand sneaks over your crotch, palming you gently. “They always wanted to know, but I wouldn’t say. I didn’t want them to know the things you’d do to me.”

Your cock rises at the thought. She smiles against your neck, slipping a hand underneath your sweats as the contrast of her cold hand against your throbbing length has you suck in a breath.

“Remember how I’d beg, offering my body to you to do whatever you want?” She whispers seductively. “I’d do it again. You know how much I love the stretch of you taking what’s yours. You know how much I love when you cum in me, on me, making a fucking mess of me.”

You clear your throat, trying to keep some semblance of control. You feel lightheaded at the thought of doing all those things to her. “Jen, you’re drunk.”

“So?” Jennie’s hand wraps around you, slowly stroking your cock. “Drunk or sober. It’s never stopped us before. Drunk sex was especially good. Remember when you fucked me in the ass? The only person to ever do that. I was fucking ruined after.”

“Jesus fuck,” You grit out as her grip gets tighter. That night was fun. She let you have her however you wanted, and you’ve always had a thing for her sweet bottom. Those little cheeks made beautiful sounds as you pounded away. “Behave.”

“Fine,” Jennie huffs, pulling her hand away. She places her hand on your chest, curling into you more.

“I’ll make it up to you when we get back,” You offer, kissing her forehead.

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

One you very much intend to keep.

Jennie squirms in your hold, hips shaking, pussy quivering along your cock as you steady her.

“Daddy come on,” She moans out, head falling on your sheets as she tries to get you to move. “You promised you’d make it up to me.”

You did. You will. Just not right now. You’re just taking in the moment of her wrapped oh so tightly around you that you want to enjoy it before you absolutely ruin her.

Jennie was over your place an hour after you dropped off the siblings. Rosie grilled you on what the hell happened, but you remained strong and did not say a word. She wouldn’t drop it, which annoyed you, but you knew you wouldn’t say anything unless you spoke with Jennie first.

And you were actually able to have a somewhat productive conversation about what you were doing. She didn’t want to be made a fool again, which you swore nothing like would happen. You’re both older, more settled into your careers, that this—whatever this was—was more stable. She saw how much the break-up affected you, but ego got in the way to want to reconcile. You understood, the thought of her walking in with someone that wasn’t you, would’ve scarred you for life.

“I’m not going to make it easy for you,” Jennie said, standing over you, pulling you up.

“I don’t expect anything less,” You whispered, a quiet promise made to whatever higher being there was that you were absolutely not going to fuck this up.

“Good,” And she dragged you towards your room.

Jennie’s getting antsy, but the sight of your cock in between her legs is one you could never tire of. You wish your phone was nearby, capturing this to save for later.

But you’ll do that later.

“Daddy,” Jennie huffs, arching her back to get you deeper, but you press your body weight into her, keeping your cock snug within her walls. “You promised.”

“I know princess,” You trail a hand down her spine, watching her body shiver from the contact. “You just look so good,” Her pussy tightens.

“I’ll look better once you move,” Jennie gasps as you roll your hips. “Do you want me to beg? I will if that’s what’ll get you to fuck—”

You don’t let her finish her sentence, thrusting your hips deeper that her body jolts at the sudden movement. You lean forward, just enough to kiss the top of her head, hair pressed against your lips as you murmur, “Oh princess, you’ll be begging me to stop.”

You stand up straight, slowly pulling your hips back, and watch, entranced, as your cock slides out. It’s slick from Jennie, and you’ve never seen anything hotter. You let out a sigh as you feel her contract around the tip. She moans and something snaps inside you that you suddenly thrust back in.

Jennie squeals at the pressure, letting out a filthy moan that has you groaning. Your body moves on its own accord, slowly pumping your cock in and out of her pussy that has you seeing stars.

“You’re so fucking big,” Jennie moans, pants, as she starts to babble nonsense as her walls accommodate to your girth. “I need it daddy. I’ve been so fucking wet.”

Her walls rhythmically squeeze every time you bottom out. It doesn’t stop you. It makes you chase the feeling, an addiction that you wouldn’t mind having.

You lose yourself in her body, watching her bite her lip and lose her breath as she grabs onto the sheets. Hearing your name fall from her lips wakes something up in you.The sounds she makes drive you to thrust into her, and when you hit a certain spot inside, she demands you don’t stop. You don’t break rhythm as she squirms. You grab her hips, letting out groans of your own as you feel your orgasm coming.

Her hands grip the sheet, wrinkling the fabric as your pace quickens, hitting every single nerve inside her has your body on fire. She lets you fuck her at whatever pace you want. Slow then fast then grind before it has her hips meeting yours perfectly in sync.

“Fucking hell, princess,” You groan, ceasing your movement as you watch Jennie’s hips roll and grind on your cock, finding every which angle to take you. “You’re being so fucking good. Are you trying to make me cum?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Jennie chants like a prayer, turning her head so her cheek rests against the fabric. “I want it. Cum in me daddy, breed me like the good girl I am.”

You’re close to the point of no return, especially with the way her pussy contracts at every thrust. She’s doing everything to suck you in and it’s working. You plant your foot on the edge of your bed, increasing your tempo tenfold as the sound of skin hitting gets louder. You’re fucking into her, nailing her onto your bed as her knees slide, opening her up as you jack hammer through her walls.

“Oh shit, baby,” The nickname falls from her lips, “Baby, I’m going to fucking cum.”

It was a short warning because after three thrusts, Jennie’s body tenses, back wildly arching as her pussy tightens, knocking the wind out of you. Your body falls on top of hers, hips erratically snapping before you meet your end.

Jennie growls, pushing her hips up into yours to take everything you have to offer. She does a nasty move by humping back onto your cock, short small thrusts that have you pushing your cum deeper inside her pussy.

“More, daddy,” She keeps moving, hips never ceasing. Her words of I want you to ruin me keeps you hard.

With a sudden burst of energy, you push yourself up, pulling out of her. You ignore the small whine she lets out, flipping her body over. She’s almost too responsive with your touch by the way she spreads her legs wide, knees falling open.

You grab your cock, aiming your tip at her opening before flicking the head on top of her clit. She mewls, eyes rolling back. You can’t wait anymore. In one swift movement, your cock enters her without warning. Her eyes shoot back to yours, letting out a scream as you pound into her.

Your hands perch on her knees, holding her open as her tits bounce with every thrust. One hand sneaks in between, rapidly rubbing her clit that her eyes shoot open wide.

“Baby,” Her voice comes out hoarse. “I-It’s too much.”

Jennie’s all fucked out, hands gripping your forearms as her legs flail out. You’re hardly paying her any attention, too focused on your cock splitting her open.

“Your pussy’s too good,” You don’t care how crass it sounds. Your thoughts are wild right now, and you can’t help but say all of them out loud. “I can’t get enough. How the hell did you keep this from me? I missed this.”

“I missed you,” Jennie says affectionately, scratching lightly.

“God, keep squeezing me like that princess,” You’re thrusting wildly, applying more pressure on her clit as you rub.

Her orgasm catches both of you off guard, her eyes widening as she screams, her walls forcing you out before a sudden gush of liquid sprays your cock. You react fast, forcing your way through your walls as the hot, tight feeling has you hitting your peak again.

You’re greedy though so once you start to release, you pull out, quickly jerking your shaft as ropes of cum shoot out. You aim for her quivering pussy, before painting her stomach. White droplets spraying over her skin has you easing your cock back inside for a moment. Her walls milk whatever’s left before you collapse next to her.

You’re trying to catch your breath that you don’t even feel her move, but your cock’s suddenly enveloped by something warm and wet that your head snaps back. Your hand easily threads through her hair, guiding her gently as she licks around and over your cock.

“Princess,” You pant, the stimulation being too much even for you. “What’re you doing?”

“Cleaning up the mess on daddy’s cock,” Jennie answers simply, tongue lapping your tip.

Once Jennie’s satisfied, she pecks the top of your cock, humming to herself before kissing your stomach. She crawls above you, swinging a leg over your body before resting her head in the crook of your neck.

“I’m still horny,” Jennie whines, kissing underneath your jaw.

“Jennie,” You sigh, bone dead as your thumb gently rubs her inner thigh.

“This is your fault, you know,” Jennie says out of the blue.

“What did I do?”

“If you didn’t know how to fuck me, I wouldn’t be in this position,” Jennie mumbles shyly.

“Well, I’m sorry?” You offer, even though you’re not.

“Whatever,” Jennie huffs as your eyes close. “I’m still not going out with you.”

“I haven’t even asked yet.”

“You’re going to, and my answer will be no,” Jennie states matter-of-factly.

You roll your eyes, chuckling, “I’m sure it will be, but I could probably get a yes sooner if I withhold sex—ow!”

Jennie pinches you.

“Don’t you dare.”

“You’re so demanding.”

“Yeah, well,” Jennie pushes herself up, face in front of yours, “You’ll have no choice but to deal with it.”

Deal.

(kinda left it at where there could be a prequel and/or sequel, but meh, we'll see.

serious thanks to everyone who read and enjoyed my previous stories. i'll see ya in the next one, whenever that may be.)

#blackpink smut #blackpink jennie #blackpink kim jennie #blackpink jennie kim #jennie smut #kim jennie smut #kim jennie

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