Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jake was born with a gift. Multiple gifts, actually; a perfect face, an enchanting personality, and a trust fund. His presence, in other people’s eyes, parts the clouds and makes the angels sing. His charm is a superpower. 

And main characters might typically use their superpowers to save the world, but Jake is using his to get into a frat party. Trying to, at least. 

“How did you even find out about this party?” asks the bouncer, who’s wearing a blazer over a Volcom tank top and khaki shorts. There are sunglasses on his face and another pair hanging off his collar. Jake doesn’t know if this guy is supposed to be threatening, but he’s not even close to it, not even with his dogs barking in those flip flops. “Who even are you?” 

“Jake. A friend invited me. I know plenty of people here,” Jake lies. He elbows Sunghoon in the side for blowing a raspberry. 

The bouncer raises an eyebrow, then addresses the long line of partygoers spilling down the driveway. They’re already in varying states of inebriation, shoes dangling from fingers, beer dripping onto concrete, bodies stumbling into bushes. Their shadows seem to dance, flitting across glossy bricks and lush grass in a rapid sequence of neon colors. “Do any of you know these randos?” 

Crickets. And the bass of Thot Shit vibrating the porch. And some guy shouting, “the one in blue busted his ass in the dining hall.” 

Jake frowns at his Louis Vuitton shirt. “It’s seafoam green. And someone was using the wet floor sign as a tray.” 

“We’re just gonna go,” Jungwon cuts in. 

“No.” Jake grabs him by the sleeve before he can scurry away. “We’re not. Notice how the group in front of us was instantly told to fuck off?” 

“That’s significantly less embarrassing than holding up the line,” Sunghoon mutters. He points his thumb over his shoulder at the restless crowd behind them. They appear to be closing in like a hoard of sluttish, objectively good-looking zombies. 

“But clearly,” Jake starts, regarding the subtle smile on the bouncer’s face. “This guy thinks we’re cute.” 

A shrug.

“Come on.” Jake takes a step closer to the bouncer so he can make use of his Sol de Janeiro perfume, a warm, rich concoction of summer and sugar that fits him so well, then employs his killer fluttery eyelash and pouty lip combo. “We got all dolled up and we gotta go somewhere. They wouldn’t be able to handle us at the late-night trivia club kickoff, would they? I don’t wanna see nerd boners.” 

The bouncer laughs—with Jake, not at him—and nods them into the house. “Alright. We’ll take you.”

It’s too easy. Epsilon Nu’s back-to-school rager is an exclusive event, the kind that people don’t stop talking about for years—seriously, Jake’s dad still brings up the kickoff of ‘92. Everyone here is supposed to be well-known at Decelis University, campus celebrities and valued athletes and handjob legends, club leaders and big personalities and pretty faces, people generally worth having around. 

Then there’s Jake, and his roommates who he met yesterday. 

Either the bouncer is just too buzzed to give a shit, or Jake really does have superpowers. God, he loves being attractive. 

He smiles to himself and parades his atmosphere of rose petals and sunshine into the party, flanked by his impromptu entourage.

One quick scan, and he knows he belongs here. He can see himself in the mindless laughter, eyes twinkling with mirth and string lights, feet moving freely and carelessly, like the slippery terracotta tile is a blanket of clouds. He also sees a lot of twerking and grinding and making out, and he’s practiced all of those things over the summer, mostly with pillows and mirrors and his own hands—his options back at home weren’t the best, okay? But his options here are limitless; muscular arms and magazine-ready faces everywhere. It feels surreal. 

The music is so loud that Jake can feel the air buzzing against his skin, can even see the haze of it swirling between bodies in its own hypnotic dance. It’s thick and burning with alcohol-laced breaths, spicy colognes, Chanel perfumes, evaporated sweat, and, obviously, weed. Jungwon is already coughing. 

Meanwhile Jake is already dancing, drunk off the atmosphere, and he hasn’t even pregamed—he couldn’t, he doesn’t know any plugs yet, or anyone over the age of 21, for that matter. The drinking age is one of the few reasons he misses Australia, and one of the many reasons he needs to be a part of this social scene. “Let’s get hammered!” he yells, bouncing on the balls of his feet like an excited puppy. 

Sunghoon shakes his head. “Orientation is tomorrow—”

“Exactly. Tomorrow. Just drink a lot of water and knock back some Tylenol. You’ll be fine.” 

“Two drinks,” Sunghoon bargains, “that’s it.” He looks like he’s all business, from his perfect posture to his leather jacket in eighty-degree weather—isn’t he sweating? He doesn’t even look like he’s sweating. But he also needs ambient rainforest noises to fall asleep, so Jake is not intimidated. 

“Three.” 

“Two and a half.” 

Jake sighs. Being the only fun roommate is so hard. “Deal— wait, Jungwon, what are you smoking?”

“It's my inhaler,” Jungwon wheezes.

Jake's eyes go wide. Jungwon is an asthmatic, fuck, that's so embarrassing.

“Holy shit. Why didn't you say anything?

Sunghoon, take him outside and I’ll get the drinks.”

Sunghoon splutters, “but the buddy system—”

“Fuck the buddy system!” They never agreed on a buddy system, what the fuck? Jake was planning on losing these two eventually—by accident of course—so he could make regrettable decisions in peace, anyway. “Jungwon is literally dying. Go. Shoo.” 

If looks could kill, Sunghoon would have Jake dead. His icy glare remains locked as he scoops Jungwon into a motherly hold and ushers him away, seemingly vanishing, dragged into a tumultuous ocean of drug-fueled chaos and skimpy shorts. 

Jake, unbothered, pulls his phone out and checks his face with the camera app, plucking and prodding at the soft, dark waves framing his face. He thinks he looks even prettier in the dim, ever-fluctuating lighting of a party, in reds and blues that shimmer along his eyelids and stick to the expensive glaze coating his lips. A wink, a kissy face, and his fifth selfie of the day is added to his Snapchat story. 

Tonight will set the tone for the year. 

Jake nods to himself, slips his phone into his pocket, and begins to traverse the energetic throng of college kids, shouldering past those who don’t suit his tastes, holding brief, coquettish eye-contact with those who do. He soon finds a kitchen and follows a gaggle of boisterous jocks through the archway. 

The room would probably be spacious if it weren’t packed from wall to wall. It’s still asscrack-hot despite the bronze ceiling fan whirring overhead and the row of French doors propped open, but it’s a little easier to breathe, at least. 

A startlingly cold hand wraps around Jake’s wrist and he yelps, head whipping toward the offender. “What the—”

“Oh my god. You’re so cute,” the person gushes, and Jake immediately loosens up because yes, yes he is cute. 

And so is this intellectual. He’s smiling with his entire face, striking eyes narrowing into crescents, cheeks flushed from either heat or alcohol or both. It’s the kind of in-your-face pretty that Jake would envy if it didn’t fill him with awe. 

“What’s your name? I’m Sunoo.” 

“Oh, it’s Jake.” He bites his tongue before he can follow up with something lame like nice to meet you.  

Sunoo beams. “Wanna do shots, Jake?” 

“Yes,” Jake groans. He thanks every higher power he can think of for sending Sunoo his way. “It’s a crime that I’m sober right now.” 

With a laugh that rolls through his whole body, Sunoo tugs Jake along, leaving wafts of flowery perfume in his wake. 

They end up crowded against the edge of a table that Jake didn’t even see at first. It’s littered with confetti and crumbs and half-empty Solo cups. The centerpiece is currently a very large and elaborate bong—Jake thinks it’s a bong—surrounded by various bottles of liquor. 

There are a lot of pretty faces around, one with bleach blond hair that’s so bright it almost hurts to look at, another with downturned lips and jet black fringe falling into his eyes, and another with beauty marks in all the right places and a baggy, hooded cardigan that falls off his shoulder as he expertly pours a round of shots. The last one nods at something Sunoo said, and suddenly Jake has a shot glass in his hand and already trusts these strangers too much to ask what’s in it. 

“Bottoms up!” someone shouts. 

Jake doesn’t hesitate to knock it back. It burns all the way to his stomach and the alcohol hits instantly, warming him to the tips of his toes. He tries to disguise a cough by wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Sunoo takes the shot glass and slides it back to Cardigan, briefly concerning the little Sex Ed teacher in Jake’s head with the possibility of catching mono. His hands are wet when he cups Jake’s cheeks and blinks up at him. “Can I kiss you?” 

Jake nods dumbly. Why not? He thinks he says that out loud, but he just splutters until Sunoo’s plush lips press against his. It quickly devolves into something dirty and mindless, tongues between lips and lips around tongues, slippery and warm, lazy enough to leave room for wondering if this is a normal frat party thing. Sunoo seems to have a routine, a choreography of the mouth that ends with him licking the remnants of the kiss from Jake’s lower lip. 

“Aww, you taste like candy,” Sunoo says. 

Jake is suddenly self-conscious about wearing flavored lip gloss. “Thanks?” 

“Guys.” Sunoo turns to the others, dramatically slapping his palms onto the table and making everything rattle. “He tastes like caramel. Like, just like that caramel vodka Jay made for the Christmas party.” 

The bleach blond gasps. “The one with the vanilla drizzle that looked like cum?” 

“The jizzle,” Cardigan supplies. 

And Sunoo, “oh my god yes, the one with the jizzle.”

Jake would spit-take across the table if he had anything in his mouth. 

“Can I taste?” asks the one with hair in his eyes. 

“Fuck off, Yeon. Get your own blue shirt.” Sunoo sticks his tongue out. 

Jake is supremely confused until he sees a whiteboard secured to the wall, with nothing on it but a doodle of a stick figure with big balls and a sloppy data table full of different colors. The names across the top are Sunoo, Yeonjun, Soobin, and Yunjin. It looks like a competition, like they have to kiss every shirt color on the board, maybe. Or fuck them…? That would be something. There are already a lot of colors crossed out, especially under Sunoo. 

Cardigan cackles, already pouring another round of shots. “Blue? That’s seafoam green.” 

Finally, someone gets it. “Thank you!” Jake shouts. Cardigan acknowledges the gratitude with a wink.

“But I already have green,” Sunoo growls. 

The bleach blond smirks, and it’s more cute than it is sexy, carving a dimple into one of his doughy cheeks. It’s not a terribly grimy smirk, for his credit. “I don’t. Lemme have a taste.” 

Jake glows under the attention, skin hot under his clothes, lips pried into a smile. His cheeks are probably red, and it would be glaringly obvious in any other lighting. “Can I learn some names before I start swapping spit with everyone?” he asks, although he can’t shake the smile from his face. 

“Soobin,” bleach blond supplies. 

“Kai.” Cardigan. 

“Yeonjun.” Edgelord. 

Yeah. This is the group Jake wants to party with. 

Sunghoon and Jungwon will be fine. They have each other. They’re responsible. They wouldn’t do any of the dumb shit that Jake would do. They wouldn’t kiss strangers. 

Jake giggles, overflowing with enthusiasm, bubbling over with excitement, spilling and fizzing across the table like a busted can of soda, and leans in for his second kiss of the night. 

✧

Three shots later, he ends up suspended in time, so lost in the music that he doesn’t even know what genre it is, so entwined with the boisterous crowd that he doesn’t know which limbs are his. There are hands brushing against his hips and eyes roaming down his body and he loves it, loves how the fleeting attention tingles over his skin, loves how every roll of his body earns him a holler or a whistle, loves how everyone is perfect and he’s perfect because everyone is drunk or high or horny—or all three. 

It’s hot. It’s so hot that every inch of his skin is slick with sweat, both his and other people’s. He can feel it soaking through the material of his shirt when two big, searing hands land on his hips from behind, and he doesn’t hesitate to grind his ass into the heat of a stranger. He doesn’t care who they are or what they look like. He doesn’t care if they have fifteen felonies, or if they push elderly people down flights of stairs for fun. He just cares that he’s being touched and it feels amazing. 

There’s a quick squeeze to his hips before a hand migrates, thick fingers exploring the taper of his waist, the jut of his ribs, gliding against the musculature of his back and curling over his shoulder. All it takes is a nudge to fold him like a lawn chair, to bend him at a ninety degree angle—he would fall and bust his face open if it weren’t for the strong hands securing him against a sturdy body. And he knows exactly what to do in this position; he arches his back, tugs on the waistband of his shorts until they ride up his ass, and puts all his twerking practice to good use, trying not to melt into putty at the feeling of rough denim dragging against the backs of his thighs and rougher hands exploring his body. 

There’s an eruption of cheers and shouts, and Jake knows he’s smiling like an idiot when he looks up. Soobin is recording with his flash on, Yeonjun is making it rain with what looks like Monopoly money, and Jake entertains them with a wink. If only this moment could last forever—and not have consequences, but that’s a concern for Tomorrow Jake. 

Right Now Jake gasps when he’s yanked straight up again, then chokes back a surprised moan when a playful slap lands across his ass. He’s in a daze. He blinks, clumsily accepts a high-five from Yeonjun, and turns around just to find that the stranger is already gone. 

“I fuck with you, bro,” Soobin says, locking hands with Jake and bumping their shoulders together, drunk and slippery. 

Jake’s pride spills over with a laugh and it makes him lightheaded. 

Sure, he’s used to making friends like it’s second nature, being loved by everyone who isn’t jealous of him. If it isn’t his pretty privilege then it’s his money, and if it isn’t either of those it’s his energy, his eagerness to have a good time, the stars in his eyes that never burn out. But he’s not entirely naïve. He has a feeling that befriending college kids in an entirely different country won’t be so easy. He knows it won’t be a walk in the park—not even for him—to be fully accepted by a pack of egotistical frat bros in the near future. 

This party is just one step to a long, excruciating flight of stairs. 

✧

Fortunately, alcohol makes socialization far easier. Jake is a bubbly drunk. He’s the kind who compliments everyone and laughs at everything and refuses to shut his mouth until he passes out at fuck o'clock in the morning. 

He’s downed a couple more shots, along with a cup of something horrendous that lingers despite him chasing it down with a bottle of water and a Capri Sun. The alcohol is still going strong in his system. It’s to the point that he can feel the warmth of it tingling in his cheeks and on the tip of his tongue, and he’s still lightheaded and giggly. He feels at ease even though he’s upstairs now, away from the brain-rattling music and disorienting lighting. 

No, he didn’t go upstairs to fuck someone. Like, he’s horny, yeah, but he’s always horny. And he’s not going to be the slut who fucks someone on campus before even attending his first class. 

He’s made his way into a living area rather than a random frat bro’s musty bedroom—no offense to Yeonjun and Soobin and Kai, who he’s discovered to be Epsilon Nu actives—and he’s squeezed onto a sofa with Sunoo and two others. It’s comfortable despite Sunoo’s elbow digging into his side; there’s a nice breeze blowing in from the balcony and the sofa is plush enough to swallow Jake whole. 

“No way,” Sunoo gasps, jostling Jake by the arm. “You’ve never been to a real party before this? You’re lying.” 

Yeonjun snorts from where he’s sitting on the floor, high as a kite, shuffling a Cards Against Humanity deck against the coffee table. “You couldn’t tell? Poor thing has freshie written all over him.” Jake tries to take that as a compliment; he knows his ditzy, easily excitable, lost puppy behavior is endearing. 

“Well, yeah. My parents were kinda strict,” Jake admits. 

“Were?” repeats Mingyu, some alumni who’s too handsome to be taken seriously. “Oh my god, did they die?” 

“What? No. I’m just in a different country now.” 

“Love the accent, by the way,” Sunoo says. 

“Oh, thanks.” 

“Everyone shut up! The cards are speaking to me,” Yeonjun whisper-yells. “Who wants a reading?” 

“Those aren’t tarot cards,” Yunjin deadpans. 

“Ububub.” Yeonjun puts a finger up and hisses a little bit. “Anything can be a tarot card with the right energy.” 

Yunjin scoffs. “And the right strain of weed.” 

“Whatever. Hey freshie, I’m gonna give you a reading,” Yeonjun decides. If he wasn’t so pretty and nonchalant and decked out with cool jewelry and tattoos, he’d probably be a little bit unlikeable. But as it is, Jake is compelled to play along with his antics. 

“Okay. Hit me.” 

Yeonjun sniffs in response, then fans the cards out messily over the table and beckons Jake to pick three. Jake, too squished between the sofa’s arm and a clingy Sunoo and too jelly-limbed to get up, picks them with his toes—fuck, where did his shoes go? And Yeonjun doesn’t bat an eye at the action, he simply proceeds with the reading by flipping the first card over. “Your past…” He squints. “Viagra?”

“What does that mean?” 

“I’m sensing that you have some difficulties with finding joy in life. Perhaps you’ve always yearned for more and hoped to seek something that would give you a boner of the mind.” 

Jake blinks. Blinks again. “Woah. That’s, like, so true.” 

“Duh. Okay, now for the present.” Yeonjun flips the next card over. “Deez nuts.” 

“Alright,” Jake giggles. “Let’s hear your interpretation.” 

Yeonjun sits up straight, clasps his hands together over the coffee table, and clears his throat. “Present deez nuts to your face.” 

“Oh.” 

Kai cackles, doubling over with the force of it. Four other people laugh with him. It’s not that funny… Okay, maybe Jake is laughing, too. He’s a sucker for deez nuts jokes. And he’s drunk. He can’t help it. 

Yeonjun nods to himself and flips the final card: future. “Doin’ it in the butt,” he announces. “Self explanatory.” 

“Who’s doing it in the butt?” That’s a new voice—a detached, honey-like drawl. 

Jake turns his gaze to the source of it and his breath catches in his throat. At first, it’s only because the man that just entered the room is hot. Like, smoking hot. Like, heart eyes popping out, tongue rolling onto the floor, awooga awooga hot. He’s tall and lean, toned arms on full display, good bone structure and handsome features, all glowing skin that makes the dirty blond of his hair look dull. Just the deep, intimidating darkness in his eyes could send Jake to an early grave—that’s why his breath hitches, at first. 

But then he realizes who the man actually is; it’s Lee Heeseung, the chapter president. 

Jake is gonna sound like a fucking dork for this, but he’s done his research on Heeseung. Hours of it. It all started when Jake’s dad’s friend—yet another alumni—came to visit and bragged about his son, how good his grades were and how involved he was on campus, how fit he was getting, how he’d easily become a chapter president for Epsilon Nu. Sure. Whatever. Jake was always adored and praised by his own parents, too, but he’d never seen his father’s eyes sparkle the way they did when he said: “he sounds like a great boy. It’ll do you good to be friends with him, Jake—since you’re gonna be a brother too, right?” 

Jake didn’t like that. It was like Heeseung was trying to compete with him before he even knew he existed. So, of course, he bitterly stalked his socials. 

Finance major. Car guy. NFT owner. And worst of all… a libra. The pictures on his Instagram page never did him justice; he’s fucking hot but he seriously can’t work his angles, and can’t seem to take a picture without sunglasses on. 

Heeseung is really attractive in person, though. It almost redeems him from his Ralph-Lauren-wearing, stock-checking, Porsche-driving, “alpha male” traits. Almost. Not really. It’ll still be agonizing to kiss this guy’s ass just to get into ENu.

“Jake,” Yeonjun says, pointing the doin’ it in the butt card in his general direction. “Jake is doing it in the butt. According to my cards.”

Well, that’s a great way to introduce himself. 

Heeseung’s gaze is far more intense when it lands on Jake, glinting with interest, coasting from his messy hair to his toned legs to his pink lips. What a sleazeball. Why is he raising his eyebrows like that? Oh god, he’s walking closer. “So that’s your name.” 

Jake stares at him for a moment, confused, still drooling over those arms. “Um. It is. And you are?” Yes, he already knows Heeseung’s name, but he’d rather pretend he doesn’t. 

Sunoo scoffs for some reason. Yeonjun has already moved on, begging Kai to pick a card. 

“Name’s Heeseung.” 

“Cool. I’m not doing it in the butt, by the way. Not tonight. I’m not a whore,” Jake rambles, speaking too quickly for his brain to keep up. He doesn’t want Heeseung to see him as a piece of ass, but as a potential member. “Not that there’s anything wrong with being a whore. I think sluts are fantastic!”

Heeseung smiles, flashing a big, perfect row of teeth, and Jake tries not to find it breathtakingly gorgeous. “You’re funny.” 

Jake laughs nervously. Sunoo clears his throat. 

“Oh. Hey, Sun,” Heeseung greets, fixing his attention to Sunoo instead. Thank god. Jake is too tipsy to make himself seem super cool right now, brain-to-mouth filter absolutely obliterated. He’s not even wearing shoes. 

“Hee,” Sunoo greets. “Nice job with the party.” 

Heeseung shrugs. “It’s better than last year’s, at least. No one’s gotten bored enough to TP the house this time.” 

“Not yet.” 

They share a laugh.

Jake tries to let the couch absorb him, escaping into his phone. Maybe now is a good time to check in on his roommates. He shoots a sweet, caring text to the group chat; whats up motherfucjers? Sunghoon leaves him on read. He pouts. 

Heeseung and Sunoo are talking about god knows what, some inside joke involving firecrackers, a conversation Jake can’t really participate in. And everyone else is distracted by Kai wrestling Yeonjun to the floor—which would be fun to watch if there wasn’t one big, tall douchebag standing in Jake’s way. 

Thankfully, Jungwon actually responds; nm! we’re back in the dorm now! stay safe and don’t be loud when you get back thx!! 

Great. That’s not helpful. 

“Jake.” Sunoo is facing him now, because Heeseung is suddenly across the room, throwing Yeonjun over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Goddamn. “Why are you being so quiet?” 

“Tired, I guess.” Jake blinks, focusing his bleary eyes enough to see that it’s nearing two in the morning. “My roommates abandoned me.”

“Oh no. Do you live on campus? I could drive you home,” Sunoo offers. “I live super close anyway.” 

“Oh, sure. Thanks. You’re an angel.” 

✧

Jake can tell Sunoo is going to be a breath of fresh air; gentle perfumes and summer breezes opposed to sharp colognes and beer; a fun, reliable friend opposed to egotistical, meathead frat brothers. We’re just gonna ignore the fact that Sunoo drives a bright ass blue Tesla. Maybe it’s another family member’s, or something—Jake doesn’t want to think about it. 

At least the Tesla is clean and the drive is pleasant, smooth enough to lull Jake into a state of half-sober relaxation. He’s nodding off by the time Sunoo rolls to a stop in front of Jake’s dorm building. 

He blinks the film of sleep from his eyes and unfastens his seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride.” 

“Of course. It’s hardly out of the way, really.” 

“Still. Means a lot.”

“Hey. Before you leave…” 

Jake’s hand pauses on the door handle. He shifts to face Sunoo, who genuinely looks serious for the first time tonight, gaze sharp and eyebrows unmoving. It’s intimidating, to be honest. “Yeah?” Jake urges. 

“I think you’ll be a great friend.” 

“You too—”

“But.” Sunoo’s grip on the steering wheel noticeably tightens. 

“But?”

“If we’re gonna be friends, you’re gonna have to stay away from Heeseung.” 

Jake furrows his eyebrows. He’s too tired for this. Drama after the first party? Why? This is college. “But you two seemed close at the party,” he points out. 

“We are close.”

“Oh.” Oh. This wouldn’t be the first time Jake has dealt with this; people feel threatened by him just because he has a nice face. It's a competition that Jake is not even competing in, because he doesn’t even want in Heeseung’s pants— ew. He just wants to rush Heeseung’s frat. There was no flirting, whatsoever. But some people consider being pretty as flirting. Yeesh. “Gotcha. If you think I was flirting with him or something, I’m not interested in him. At all. I’m just kind of wanting to rush ENu so staying away from him would be—”

“Easy,” Sunoo interrupts. His eyes are starting to look a little crazy. Jake considers making a run for it. “The other guys can get you in, you know. Try talking to Jay and Soobin. They’ll be way easier to convince, anyway.” 

Wait, wow. Jake really does love Sunoo already. Sunoo, his savior who has granted him a completely valid reason to avoid Heeseung, to avoid pretending to know anything about cryptocurrency. If he can get away with getting in through the other—slightly more tolerable—guys, he’ll definitely take it. “Shit. You’re right. Thanks, Sunoo.” Jake pops the door open and springs out of the car with rekindled vigor. 

“Uh huh.” Sunoo leans across the console, and right before Jake closes the door— “just so you know, twerking on someone counts as flirting, slut.” 

Jake stares in confusion as Sunoo drives off, running a stop sign and whipping around the corner with a rubbery screech. Who knew that Teslas could sound angry? 

After the moment passes, he shrugs and heads inside. “Slut” is a term of endearment anyway, and that was probably just some really specific advice based on personal experience. Sunoo is so kind and helpful, for real. 

On the trek to his dorm, past barren common areas and cluttered cork boards and colorful name tags on doors, Jake swipes through Snapchat stories, happily reliving the party through the camera lenses of his new acquaintances. There’s a cute group selfie taken by Kai, involving drunk smiles and confetti-littered hair, then Soobin eating a ghost pepper and proceeding to drink straight from the sink faucet, then Yeonjun twerking on Jake, then Jake twerking on— fuck! 

He nearly drops his phone at the sight of broad hands gliding over his body, of glistening, toned arms keeping him close and dark eyes focused on his ass and dirty blond hair dripping sweat onto his backside. 

He was twerking on Heeseung of all people. 

✧

“What am I going to do?” Jake groans, dragging his palms down his cheeks. His head is pounding, and he’s wearing sunglasses in the dining hall despite its warm lighting and dark wood paneling. He’s not hungover, okay? And he’s not hiding the most atrocious dark circles known to man under his eyes. 

Jungwon gives him a nasty side-eye, as if they didn’t just suffer through four group bonding exercises together. Imagine trying to untie a human knot involving an extremely sweaty dude, some loser in an ahegao hoodie, and an obnoxiously enthusiastic SGA member. They’ve suffered together. Jungwon should understand him better than anyone. “This might sound crazy, but I think the best way to avoid ENu-related drama is by not joining ENu.” 

“Not an option. My dad’s weird obsession with that fraternity is the only reason my parents are letting me study here. If I don’t get in, they’re gonna have me move back in with them and I just can’t deal with them anymore.” 

“Having to deal with the people who raised you? Sounds horrible,” Jungwon mutters, expressionless, reaching across the table to steal one of Jake’s chips. 

“Right?!” 

“I was being sarcastic.” 

Jake frowns. “Get your hand out of my Doritos.” 

No one gets why Jake would want to escape from two loving, proud parents and the luxurious estate that comes with them. Sure, he loves having a live-in chef, and a massive closet, and lavish vacations every other month—and his superficial friends he left at home, he guesses—but he’s been feeling so empty, so trapped. It’s kind of like that when all his parents seem to worry about are his grades and his public appearance, and they think they can keep him happy with the material things and some empty praise and a pretentious therapist with a terrible haircut. He wasn’t allowed to go anywhere on his own back in Brisbane. 

He needs some adventure.

Preferably some adventure that doesn’t involve shaking his ass on peoples’ love interests. As fun as that is, Jake is only a sucker for drama when it’s someone else’s. 

✧

Jake’s next opportunity to rub elbows with an ENu active comes surprisingly fast. Haha. Comes fast. 

It’s the first morning of classes, and he still has red lines on his cheek from his blanket, and he’s in his pajamas because he literally rolled out of bed seconds ago. It smells amazing in their living area, warm and sweet. And there’s a random shirtless guy in the kitchenette who is definitely not Jungwon or Sunghoon. 

“Uh, hi?” Jake says, lingering in the doorway of his room. He should probably equip himself with a weapon. A barstool might work. 

The guy turns around to give him a nod of acknowledgment, and Jake could recognize a jawline like that anywhere, even if he first saw it when he was drunk. It’s Park Jay from Epsilon Nu. “Morning. I’m making pancakes.” 

Jake squints, slowly makes his way toward the breakfast bar, and plops down onto one of the stools. His feet swing, inches off the floor. “Enough to share with me?” 

“Of course.”

Jake decides that the intruder can stay, because pancakes, and because said intruder could be his ticket into that goddamn fraternity. 

The bathroom door swings open and the scents of lemongrass and aloe mix with freshly cut strawberries and maple syrup. Jungwon emerges from the fragrant steam, haphazardly toweling his hair dry. 

“Morning, Won,” Jake greets. “This guy is making pancakes in our kitchen.” 

“I know.” 

“Do you know why he’s here?” 

“We fucked last night.” 

“Woah.” Jake gives him a thumb’s up. “Nice.” 

Jungwon yawns and takes a seat next to Jake, then starts shamelessly drooling over Jay’s muscular backside. Even with that dumb, dickmatized look on his face, Jake can see how Jungwon pulled Jay. He’s cute, with wide, sparkly eyes and pretty dimples, and he’s super chill, way more chill than Jake thought he would be. The asthma is just unfortunate. 

Two plates of pancakes are soon placed in front of them, and now it’s Jake’s turn to drool. This Jay motherfucker put powdered sugar and strawberries on top of them.

“Dude. These are insane,” Jake says, already having stuffed his cheek like a chipmunk. “Like, so good,” he moans. 

“Don’t have sex with the pancakes, please,” Jungwon begs. 

Jay laughs like Jungwon is the funniest person alive. 

As they finish up their breakfast, Jake observes, studies, strategizes, scribbles down assumptions about Jay on his mental chalkboard. 

So Jay can cook, which means that he’s not a total dick brain; he slept with Jungwon, which means that he has taste; and he let Jake eat some of the pancakes he made, which means that he must tolerate him. He seems approachable enough, trying to start polite conversation with Jake even though he keeps having eye sex with Jungwon. After wolfing down a stack of pancakes and drinking raw eggs out of a measuring cup, he even starts cleaning the kitchen and washing the dishes. What a gentleman. 

Jake thinks Jay would say yes if asked for a bid, even before any rush events. 

There’s just one flaw in that plan; Jake would look like a total loser if he straightforwardly asked to join. He needs to be offered a bid. In order to do that, he needs to make good friends with one of the brothers, and Jay has been the sanest one so far. 

“I hope this is a regular occurrence,” Jake hints. “Nothing beats a homemade breakfast.” 

“Well.” Jay wiggles his eyebrows and Jungwon giggles, nuzzling into Jay’s neck. Ew. When and how did this even happen? Did Jay get turned on by Jungwon having an asthma attack at the party on Saturday? 

Jake tries not to eject the pancakes he just ate. “Be as loud as you want. I’ll wear headphones.” He’s probably going to regret that later. 

“You’re cool, bro,” Jay says, absently squishing Jungwon’s ass like a stress ball. “You should hang with me and the guys tonight. We’re ordering pizza to celebrate the first day of classes.” 

Why does Jake feel like pizza is just a nightly occurrence there? Whatever, not important. He’s in!  

✧

The frat house looks like it belongs on the cover of a magazine when it’s not in party mode. There are no people passed out in the bushes, no piles of trash littered all over the ground, no zombie hoards making everything cramped and hot and sticky, no flashing lights that are so painful to look at that you’d almost want to navigate the place with your eyes closed. 

It’s a Mediterranean-style mansion, of brilliant white stucco, dark-stained mahogany grilles, and terracotta roofing, glossy brick driveway wrapping around a small fountain and pooling into a lawn of lush, vibrant grass. It’s a fitting aesthetic for the humid, tropical climate Decelis University calls home; just looking at it has Jake swearing he smells a faint sea breeze from the beach a couple miles away. It would make an amazing vacation home. Hell, it will make a good home home.

Jake is going to fit in here, even if he has to force it, even if he has to do some pretending. He’s already wearing a backwards baseball cap and crew socks—it’s making him itch—so the guys will know that he can have a terrible sense of fashion, too. Although, he refuses to wear spicy frat boy cologne when his perfume smells so pretty and sweet on him. At least he doesn’t smell like fear. 

He strides into the Epsilon Nu chapter house with nothing but confidence, hands in pockets, gum in mouth. He nearly turns back around when he sees the first occurrence of socks and sandals, but ultimately powers through and makes his way to the kitchen. There’s pizza, as promised, boxes stacked high on the island counter, guys straggling around like flies to keep grabbing slices. Jake forgoes the offensively greasy pizza and heads outside, where everyone is hanging out under the shade of the veranda. A TV is fastened to the wall out here, and a few people are playing Forza while everyone else stands around or sits at the outdoor bar with beers and White Claws in their hands. 

Yeonjun is the first to recognize him, abandoning the blunt rotation by the pool to run over and scoop him into a tight hug. 

Jake’s lungs suffer, both from the compression and the strong smell of weed. He’s happy to see Yeonjun, though. He really is. 

“Jake, my man!” Yeonjun finally releases him, right when his vision starts getting staticky, then gives him a sound pat on the shoulder. “How was my favorite freshie’s first day?” 

“Good, but I really hate syllabi. And get-to-know-mes.” Jake huffs. “Honestly, I don’t even know me!” 

“Relatable,” Yeonjun groans. 

“Dude.” Oh, there’s Jay. “Can you start closing your window?” he asks, addressing Yeonjun. “I keep getting mosquitos in my room.” 

“Hell no. It gets dry if I close the window and it messes with my plants.” 

“At least invest in a zapper or something, good lord.” Jay pulls a sleeve up, not to show off his muscles but to show Yeonjun evidence of the mosquitos, red splotches up and down his arm. “I’m allergic.” 

“Imagine having allergies,” Yeonjun teases. “Kind of embarrassing.” Hey, haha, that sounds like something Jake would say—but he’s supposed to make people like being around him, so he keeps his obnoxious mouth shut. 

Jay shoves his palm into Yeonjun’s face as he turns to face Jake, and ignores it when Yeonjun bites his finger and retreats. “Sup. Glad you made it.” 

Jake shrugs. “Thought I’d swing by for a second since you offered.” God, Jake’s literally so cool, even with his hat on backwards and the sun in his eyes. They burn a little bit, but squinting will give him wrinkles and the sun is starting to set, anyway. 

“Want a beer?” Jay asks. 

“I’m feeling a White Claw. Have any?” 

“Of course.” Jay looks at someone over Jake’s shoulder and cups his hand beside his mouth. “Yo, Hee! Bring me a White Claw.” 

Oh no. Seriously? Seriously? 

“Fuck you,” Heeseung shouts. 

“Fuck you!” Jay echoes. 

Jake is going to die right here. “I—you know, I can just go grab one myself.” 

“Nonsense. You’re a guest.” Of course. Jay, the gentleman, the chivalrast, as good a host as he is a guest, won’t allow that to happen. He’d rather his guest suffer Sunoo’s wrath than go and grab his own drink. “Come on, Hee.” Jay just continues to dig Jake’s grave—might as well step right in. “It’s for Jake,” he lilts. 

“You know what, Jay. Die,” Heeseung deadpans, and Jake nearly pisses himself because when did Heeseung get there? He’s right by Jake’s side, close enough that Jake can smell his cologne; it’s nicer than the other guys’ at least, something sweet and powdery yet earthy and smoky, like rich dark chocolate and cedarwood and whiskey. Fuck, that’s not a good thing. 

Jay grins. “Okay, I’ll go do that,” and off he goes, sauntering away to be a subtle menace elsewhere. 

Jake hesitantly turns to face Heeseung, almost melting into a puddle because of the smile that spreads, one corner of Heeseung’s mouth lifting before the other. He looks like a dream painted in sunset orange, eyes glimmering like embers and skin shining like he’s slathered himself in honey. It’s so. He’s so. Ugh. Remember, Heeseung is a frat bro. He probably doesn’t wash between his asscheeks. He’s probably rude to his own mom. He probably never leaves tips. 

“Which one?” Heeseung looks down at the cans in his arms. “Black cherry? Raspberry? Lime?” 

Jake is trying very hard not to let his jaw fall to the ground right now. Because whatever this is, it’s not normal. These cans must be poisoned. “Uh. Raspberry, please.” 

“Gotcha.” Heeseung offers the White Claw, and their fingers brush as he hands it over. 

Jake hopes he didn’t just squeak. It feels like he just squeaked. He frantically looks around for any signs of Sunoo—it’s like he can sense the presence—and although he doesn’t see Sunoo here, it feels like he’s doing something gravely wrong. He doesn’t want drama. He wants everyone to like him. “Haha, thanks. I’m just gonna—oh! Wow, is that Soobin? I should go say hi to him.” 

And Jake spends the next hour actively avoiding Heeseung while he tries to network with the guys, going so far as to dive into a bush at one point. 

He finds a twig in his hair when he showers later that night. 

Overall, a success. Everyone loves him, even though he really sucks at Forza; being horrible at things is endearing when Jake does it. He’s gotten a few more socials from some of the guys, they’re convinced that he knows what a V6 is, and they let him take a few beers home to Jungwon and Sunghoon. He’s practically already a brother. He just has to endure the process of becoming official. 

✧

“So I heard you were at ENu last night.” 

Jake gulps. 

Sunoo shouldn’t look as scary as he does when he’s doing homework at a Starbucks, drowning in an oversized, baby blue sweater and sipping at a mint cookie Frappuccino, but his beauty is an intimidating thing, not meant to be interacted with but observed; humans were never supposed to look gods in the eye, let alone be treated to coffee by them. And personally threatened by them. 

“Yeah.” Jake shrugs, trying to seem as casual as possible. His palms are sweating. “I just hung out for a bit. Why didn’t you drop by?” 

“I had to prepare some stuff for club day. We’re gonna have a table for the volleyball team. And SGA. And the recycling club.” Sunoo takes a long sip from his Frappuccino, and it looks like pure cookie crumbs—there’s no way it tastes like coffee at all. “And the pottery club.” 

“Wow.” Jake looks down at his phone. He’s been scrolling aimlessly through Instagram while Sunoo’s done three different assignments. 

Is Sunoo, like, real? He’s one of those rare cases, a perfect all-rounder, hardworking and beautiful down to every last pore, effortlessly confident because he has every reason to be. He’s intentional. Everyone must love him because he makes them love him, because he works to make himself perfect, because he’s not afraid to stand up for himself, because who wouldn’t want to be in his corner? He’s powerful and he knows he is. 

“You must be super busy,” Jake says bitterly.

“Yeah. That’s why I have some guys in ENu to tell me what goes on around there.” 

Sunoo has spies?! Jake knew he felt Sunoo watching last night. One way or the other, Sunoo is always watching. 

“Smart,” Jake says. He sounds constipated.

“Uh huh.” Sunoo narrows his eyes. “Just don’t be dumb, Jake. Don’t be a slut.” 

Oh, come on. Jake hasn’t even slept with anyone yet! Who is Sunoo to talk, anyway? Jake watched him make out with four people at the party, like, all at one time. 

Well, regardless of Sunoo’s hypocrisy, his threats are extremely effective, even if he hasn’t explicitly said what would happen if Jake were to hang out with Heeseung. The eyes say it all. There are horrible, horrible things going on in that pretty head. 

✧

The first rush event is a brunch on Saturday. The brothers rented out an entire seaside café and decorated it with Epsilon Nu memorabilia, handed out drink koozies and pamphlets, cleared out a few tables and chairs and set up a buffet of fresh seafood. 

It’s uncomfortable, to say the least. Sand keeps blowing into Jake’s eyes, and his shrimp, and his sweet iced tea with absolutely no alcohol in it. The sun is beating down relentlessly, and he’s wearing chinos and a Ralph Lauren button-up and he looks like he kisses ass for a living. Everyone here looks like a walking bag of dicks, honestly. It ruins the beautiful beach view. Jake almost feels nauseous, watching waves lap over the shore and retreat in swirls of briny, sandy froth. 

“I just listened to some guy’s business pitch for the past fifteen minutes,” says a new face, who’s walking up to Jake like he knows him—it’s a welcome presence. This guy seems tolerable, with a soul in his big Disney eyes and his hair dyed a light peach color. He has no expression on his face but still seems to have more personality than everyone else here. 

“Was it a good pitch?” 

“Fuck no. Dick-a-gram would be gay as hell. And not in a good way.” 

Jake laughs. “What?” 

“You don’t wanna know.” 

“You’re right. I don’t.” 

There’s a beat of silence, but Jake can actually tolerate talking to this guy while sober. Instead of retreating to the buffet table like he did from the other guys, he salvages the convo. “So what’s your name? Are you rushing too?” 

“Yeah, unfortunately.” A deep sigh and a vacant stare into the distance. “It’s Taehyun. Yours?” 

“Jake. Maybe we should form an alliance,” he suggests. “It might be our only chance at survival.” 

A random brunet hops into their conversation, all dewy skin and wild hair with a cluster of shell necklaces around his neck. If he wasn’t wearing clothes, Jake would think he just crawled out of the ocean with new legs and a stolen voice. “An alliance? I’m in.” He offers his hand and there’s hot sauce on it—Jake hopes that’s hot sauce. “Name’s Beomgyu.” 

Jake gives him a shrimp so he doesn’t have to shake his hand. The diversion is successful. 

“I guess I’m part of an alliance now,” Taehyun says. “Should we write a contract?” 

Before Jake can laugh, there’s the sound of a fork hitting glass. Then there’s the sound of glass shattering, and everyone’s attention snaps toward Soobin, who’s now staring at the wineglass shards by his feet. “Oops. Uh, attention everyone.” 

“Thanks Soobin,” Heeseung says. “And thank you all for coming. I’ve met some fantastic candidates.” His eyes meet Jake’s, searing even through the distance between them, searing hotter than the sun. Jake tries to hide behind Taehyun. “If you’re not here for the free food then you’re here to learn more about Epsilon Nu, I hope.” 

Cringe. Cringe. The millennial alums are laughing. That was not funny in the slightest. 

Heeseung acknowledges them with a wink. “Or here to teach. The gentlemen over there know that ENu is more than a fraternity, but a family. We lift each other up. We want to see our brothers and our community thrive, because guess what? These are the people, and this is the society we’re going to stay with for the rest of our lives.” Lord, Jake hopes not. 

This speech is atrociously boring. Yeonjun is literally asleep and drooling on a table, and Wooyoung is drawing dicks on his arm. 

“Hey,” Jake whispers to Beomgyu. “Suddenly I have to piss so bad.” 

“Dude, same.” 

So they piss for the next half hour. And by piss, Jake means pass Taehyun’s vape around and talk shit about everyone. 

The rest of brunch is spent learning that joining the fraternity is a wonderful opportunity for growth and success—yeah, maybe for rich people. Jake is a rich person, but a lot of this is capitalist bullshit and he knows it. 

There’s only one run-in with Heeseung, which ends in Jake falling off of the deck and into the sand and refusing to let Heeseung help him up. His only chance at escape is to claim that the shrimp isn’t agreeing with his stomach. 

After that incident and another hit from Taehyun’s vape pen, he also gets a chance to say hi to everyone except for Yeonjun, who might actually be dead. He expects to find a bid in his inbox tonight. He has both Soobin and Jay in his corner, and he probably would’ve gotten a bid without even going to the brunch, but formalities can be important. 

Jake can practically taste his victory. It tastes a little bit like sand. 

✧

Taehyun shows Jake his phone screen, displaying the document sent from Epsilon Nu’s official email. “I got a bid.” 

“I got one too,” Beomgyu says. 

Sunghoon looks up from his laptop. “I got one too.” 

“What? How?” Jake huffs. “Sunghoon, you didn’t even go to the rush brunch.” 

“I have connections.” 

This can’t be right. Jake should’ve been the first guy to get a bid. He’s put so much effort into making friends with the brothers. They all love him. Right? Oh, god. What if he secretly annoys them? He’s done too much. 

“Hey.” Taehyun puts a reassuring hand on Jake’s shoulder, just sits it there awkwardly. “They probably sent it. Maybe it just didn’t go through.” 

✧

On Sunday, Jay invites Jungwon and Jake out on his dad’s yacht. 

It’s a Benetti, a luxurious beast with two hot tubs, smooth oak decking, and so many rooms that Jake almost gets lost trying to go to the bathroom. Most of the frat guys and a lot of other good-looking people are on the yacht, naturally. Jay called it a little gathering but a normal person would call it a party; the music is loud enough to kill a few fish, the drink supply is never-ending, and everyone is missing some articles of clothing, progressively getting more naked as the day goes on and the sun gets meaner. 

Jake lets himself relax for the first half of the outing. He lays back on a plush lounger and enjoys the sea breeze intermittently blowing through the sweltering heat, drinks a couple of mojitos that Jay mixed, and finds entertainment in other people being stupid, like Soobin catching a seagull in his massive hands and almost getting murdered by it, Wooyoung randomly pushing people into the water and dumping people out of their chairs, and Yeonjun procuring a water gun to join in on the antagonization. 

He could also say that he’s been ogling some muscular shirtless guys, and sparing glances at Heeseung, who has his shirt unbuttoned all the way and some kind of lotion making his toned pecs glisten in the harsh sunlight, and those dumb sunglasses again, perched all the way at the tip of his nose and ugh he looks so good in them. There’s no need to admit that, though—Jake is wearing sunglasses too. No one can see where he’s looking. 

“Are you staring at Hee?” Jay asks.

“What? No. Why would I do that?” 

Jay shrugs. He takes a seat at the foot of Jake’s lounger, dripping condensation on the waterproof upholstery. “You tell me.” 

“I wasn’t staring at him. He’s not my type,” Jake mutters. 

“If you say so.” 

“He’s not.” 

Jay just snorts, and Jake resists the urge to kick him into the floor. 

“Hey,” Jake says. He sits up, swallowing down some nausea from the constant rocking of the boat combined with alcohol, and with the mere thought of setting his ego aside. “I was hoping to get a bid yesterday.” 

Jay raises an eyebrow. “I know.” 

“Did you guys—um. Did you send one? To me?” 

“Nope.” 

Jake’s heart sinks. “Is it something I did?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe you should ask Heeseung. He’s the one who told us we couldn’t send you one.” 

“He what?” 

Jay chuckles as Jake springs up from the lounger, a Hee-seeking-missile, traversing the swaying deck with determination.

That’s it. There weren’t many straws to begin with but that was the last one. Heeseung keeps causing problems, and Jake is going to solve them here and now. He’s so tired of this guy and he’s hardly even met him. Stupid Heeseung with his stupid Sperry’s and his stupid Bud Light and his stupid pretty face. He doesn’t deserve that face! Look at him, smirking down at Jake like he’s got him where he wants him, like this is some kind of game and he’s the player, like everything is in his hands—well, maybe it is all in his hands… 

“Yes, Jake?” 

Jake narrows his eyes, forgetting that he can’t shoot effective daggers through the thick lenses of his sunglasses. “Can we talk? Alone.” He means, not in the presence of Heeseung’s meathead entourage. Frat guys are great at making people feel more uncomfortable than they have to.

Heeseung sets his beer down on the railing without even looking. Somehow, it doesn’t fall. Jake wants to smack it into the ocean. “Of course we can talk,” Heeseung says. “I’d love to help.” 

Help? Heeseung has been the exact opposite of help. 

Instead of shooing his friends away, he walks off expecting Jake to follow—which he almost doesn’t, hesitant to look like a lost puppy right now—and leads him through tight corridors and various lounges until they get to a bedroom. Why that was necessary is beyond Jake, but whatever. It’s a nice, open and spacious room, all light and creamy colors, floor-to-ceiling windows, a sliding door leading out to a narrow deck. Yet it all closes in on them when the click of a lock turning registers in Jake’s mind. 

“What did you need?” Heeseung asks, placing his sunglasses into his hair, unfortunately stealing Jake’s only buffer between his sanity and those goddamn eyes. Heeseung’s gaze is hardly tolerable when his attention is divided, so having him in a room alone, all of his attention on Jake, is nerve-wracking. 

Jake almost forgets what he wanted to talk about. Why was he mad? Oh, right. “Why can’t I join your fraternity?” 

That’s when Heeseung starts to smile and Jake realizes that he’s walked right into a figurative spiderweb. Fuck, this is exactly what Heeseung wanted him to do. “I never said you couldn’t join,” Heeseung says, stepping forward and making Jake have to tilt his chin up to look at him. He really is tall. And the deep, smoky scent from yesterday is back, mixed in with coconut and alcohol. 

Jake swallows, gulping thick saliva down his throat. He doesn’t know if he wants to step back or fall into Heeseung’s scent, but either would be admitting a loss. So he stands his ground. “Then what? Why can’t your brothers give me a bid?” 

“You never asked for one.” 

“I—but everyone knew I wanted to join!” Jake is trying really hard not to whine right now. “You knew I wanted to join. Don’t act like you didn’t.” 

Heeseung shrugs. “How would I know? You run away every time I try to talk to you.” 

Oh. So it was noticeable. And Jake thought he was slick, damn it. 

“Okay, well I’m talking to you now and I want to join. This is me asking you for a bid, so if you could—”

“Ask nicely,” Heeseung interrupts. His voice has taken on a harsher tone, almost commanding. 

Jake stares for a moment, vexed by the menace in front of him. As painful as it is to obey a man like this, a man who’s used to getting what he wants when he wants, a man with horrible tastes and a worse personality but all the audacity in the world, Jake really needs to get into this fraternity. Swallowing his pride is like swallowing bricks. But he does it. He grits his teeth and he swallows those fucking bricks. “If you could please give me—”

“I said nicely.” 

“I said please,” Jake mutters. 

Heeseung blows a laugh through his nose. “So? Your tone is bitchy as hell.” 

“That’s just how I talk, asshole.” 

“So I guess we’re both wasting our time here.”

“Wait,” Jake near-whimpers. He really does sound like a bitch; being raised a spoiled brat, he never realized how ridiculous he sounds all the time… Great, he’s letting Heeseung give him a complex about the way he talks. “Please give me a chance.” 

“There we go.” There’s an entertained sparkle in Heeseung’s eyes. “That’s a good start.” 

“A good start?!” 

Heeseung reaches up and Jake almost flinches away from his touch, a soft caress under his chin before it’s held in place, thumb and forefinger. It’s hot. The pads of Heeseung’s fingers are hot and the sun sears through Jake’s skin, he’s sweating more than he did outside in the humidity. “Look, doggy,” Heeseung purrs, voice dark and cloyingly sweet, oozing off his tongue like treacle. It hardens up so quickly it’s scary. “I know you think you spit gold or some shit, walking around my house like you own everything there, acting like you’re above all of my brothers—above me. I think it’s time you learn where you stand. When I say bark, you fucking bark.” 

Jake can’t do much more than wince at Heeseung’s words, shocked completely still, unsure what to do. He’s dizzy. He’s scared, hands shaking and heart thundering and he doesn’t even want to run away. “Sorry, ‘m sorry,” he mumbles. 

“Aw, you’re sorry?” Heeseung cooes, dragging his thumb along Jake’s lower lip and making him shudder. “That means you’ll be a good pet, right?” 

Jake nods before he can even think about it. 

“Gonna beg?” 

Jake hesitates, not because he considers bailing on his pursuit for a bid, but because his mind is reeling. He can hardly process what he’s feeling; the warmth, the nausea, the yearning. But the best course of action is to submit, so he does, sinking to his knees, aiming his puppy-dog eyes up at Heeseung. “Please. I need it. I’ll do anything.” 

“Anything?” Heeseung repeats, tugging at Jake’s lip, revealing a bottom row of teeth, making a thin string of drool escape from his mouth. “You know what you’re doing, huh? Pretty boy like you, getting on your knees and making a promise like that.” 

Jake nods dumbly. He’s properly sitting like a puppy now, knees spread and hands braced against the carpet between them. He breaks the hypnotizing eye-contact to drag his eyes down Heeseung’s body, tanned skin, subtle abs, a big, strong frame, a sun-bleached happy trail leading into his waistband. A needy whine almost bubbles out of Jake’s throat—it might as well. The saliva dripping from his lower lip is telling enough. 

Heeseung laughs, releases Jake’s lip, and weaves his fingers into the soft, wind-tangled hair at the back of his head. “Go ahead,” he urges, nudging Jake’s head closer to his crotch. “Show me how much you need it.” 

Jake gently noses at Heeseung’s clothed cock, at first. He inhales the deep, musky scent, breathes in the warmth of it, finds the angle of the shaft—tucked toward Heeseung’s hip—and starts pressing noisy kisses all over it. 

“Cute.” Heeseung scratches at Jake’s scalp. “You even suck dick like a princess, don’t you?” 

Jake’s face heats in embarrassment. He reaches up to unzip Heeseung’s shorts and they sink low on his hips, allowing Jake to fish his cock out of his boxers. 

It’s big, because of course it is. It’s heavy in Jake’s hand, almost as thick as his wrist and almost as long as his forearm. He strokes slowly, staring in a daze as it grows even longer. He can feel the blood rushing through every bulging vein, contributing to the dark pink flush at the tip, making the shaft throb like it has its own heartbeat. Fuck. How is Jake going to fit this thing in his mouth? He watches a clear bead of precum ooze from the slit and moves to lap it up with his tongue, flicking and rolling it over the hot, salty flesh with so much enthusiasm that one might think he was devouring a popsicle on a sweltering summer afternoon. 

Heeseung bites his lip, resting his free hand against Jake’s sweaty nape. Jake never thought he’d see Heeseung at his angle, but he’s really not complaining. Usually, men would look kind of dumb like this, with that vacant sex stare and that dead fish mouth—ick. Heeseung doesn’t look like that, though. His eyes are focused and melting through Jake’s soul, and he would look completely unaffected if it weren’t for the lip caught under his bright teeth and soft flush down his thick neck. He’s in control and he looks like it. 

Jake wants to please Heeseung, he wants to make him react. He closes his mouth and collects saliva against the seal of his lips, then spits it onto Heeseung’s cock, stroking and spreading the slippery substance around with his palms. Honestly, he’s just stalling, but now he has to take Heeseung into his mouth if he doesn’t want to look like a loser. So, he takes a deep breath and surges forward, engulfing Heeseung’s cockhead and dragging his lips down the shaft until he meets resistance, his throat spasming and tears springing to his eyes. He only makes it a few inches, not even halfway to the base, and tries to make up for the area he can’t reach by pumping the shaft in his hands. 

“Fuck,” Heeseung grunts, hips twitching as Jake starts bobbing his head on his dick, sucking and licking, enjoying the feeling of hot, throbbing veins dragging against his tongue. Drool is dripping down his chin, falling from Heeseung’s cock and wetting the carpet. He’s never slobbered this much in his life. “Knew you’d be a slut, Jake. Good boy. Keep going.” 

Jake’s eyes flutter shut. He’s already so turned on that his dick is achingly hard in his shorts, and the sight of Heeseung all sweaty and flushed isn’t helping. 

He could probably get away with doing this until Heeseung cums—pumping until his hands ache and sucking until his lips are raw—but Jake is ambitious, and he decides to ignore the weakness overcoming him, the nausea brought on by alcohol and seasickness. He wants to take Heeseung deeper, so that’s what he does. Well, that’s what he tries to do. He forces the tip against the back of his throat, nearly chokes on his own saliva, and gags, which is absolutely fine and normal until his stomach roils and his esophagus seizes up and he has to pull off Heeseung's cock before he makes a mess. 

“You good?” Heeseung breathes. 

Jake’s hand shoots up to cover his mouth. His eyes go wide. 

Heeseung’s eyes go equally wide. “There’s no way—”

Jake makes a run for the sliding door, throws it open so hard that the glass pane rattles, and literally fucking barfs over the railing of the deck. 

“Yo, Jake,” Jungwon shouts, waving from the other end of the deck. “You alright?” 

Jake hates his life. 

✧

He got the bid, at least. Even though he ran to the bathroom and hid from Heeseung until the yacht was docked, he still ended up finding the long-awaited email in his inbox that night. 

“Be careful with that popsicle, Jakey,” Beomgyu giggles. “We don’t want you throwing up on the table.” 

Taehyun silently moves his tray away from Jake. 

“Ha ha.” 

Jake’s glad Heeseung sent him a bid after all, he is. But fuck Heeseung for telling everyone that he threw up from sucking dick. 

“I told you,” Jake whines. “It was seasickness! Just, take my advice and don’t suck dick on a yacht—oh no. It’s Sunoo.” He stands as soon as he notices Sunoo coming his way, knocking his chair into the floor. Everyone looks. 

“Do not run away from me, Jake. I just want to talk.” 

I just want to talk, Jake’s ass. He’s probably about to get stuffed into a garbage can head-first, or given a wedgie, or literally murdered. “Please don’t kill me! It was poor judgment! It won’t happen again, I swear.” 

Sunoo raises an eyebrow. “Can you stop being a loser for five seconds? I’m not going to kill you. I’m just a little disappointed. I was trying to protect you and you didn’t listen.” He pouts. “And I thought I was good at taking care of my freshies.” 

Jake blinks. His popsicle’s juice starts dripping on the floor. “You… you aren’t mad?” 

“No? Why would I be mad? You’re the one suffering because you didn’t listen.” 

“Wait. I’m confused. Weren’t you telling me to stay away from him because you want him for yourself?” 

“Oh my god.” Sunoo cackles. “Fuck no.”

“Then why did you?” 

Pause for dramatic effect. 

“Because Heeseung has bad intentions with people like you.”

Chapter Text

Jake isn’t scared of dumb, egotistical trust fund babies. Let’s be real, he is one. It doesn’t matter what Sunoo says—or what the rest of the guys say, or what the entire student body says—Heeseung won’t scare him. 

Imagine if Jake scurried away from ENu, dropped out of Decelis, and fled the country all because of this guy; this stupid, stupid guy who’s drinking vodka Sprite out of a champagne glass at one in the afternoon, in Bermuda shorts no less. It’s crazy what he’s hiding in those ugly shorts and even crazier that Jake put his mouth on it. 

It was a moment of weakness, he’ll admit. But it won’t happen again.

Jake won’t let Heeseung chew him up and spit him out, even if that dazzling, electric smile would feel amazing sinking into his skin, and he would love to dissolve between those tantalizing lips—fuck, no! 

Heeseung will not scare him or turn him on.

How hard can it be to avoid that? As hard as Jake’s dick? So only a little bit… 

Whatever. Heeseung is a walking ick; it won’t take long for Jake to become entirely repulsed by him. In fact, it might happen during this damn orientation, because Heeseung is about to open his mouth and say things. 

It’s an inverse relationship. The more men talk, the less attractive they are. 

And here Heeseung goes, taking his spot at the center of the room, standing on a coffee table as if he needs the extra height and—where did he get a megaphone? “Listen up, fuckwads.”

Huh?! Fuckwads? 

Jake makes eye-contact with Beomgyu across the room—like this is The Office—and tries not to burst into laughter. 

“All that ‘welcoming environment’ bullshit we’ve been talking about?” Heeseung continues, voice booming through what must be the loudest setting of the megaphone. “Shove it up your ass and forget it. We aren’t associating ourselves with pussies.” 

The pledges must all feel differently about the sudden shift in atmosphere. Some look like they’re about to shit their pants, others whisper and giggle among themselves as they think Heeseung is joking, Taehyun is casually nodding along in agreement, and Sunghoon isn’t even paying attention.

Jake keeps his expression schooled. Really, he isn’t that shocked. He’s just a little annoyed, if anything. Who does Heeseung think he is? There’s no way he’s supposed to be intimidating with that lavender cardigan tied around his shoulders. 

“If you want to join, you’re gonna do whatever we tell you and you’re gonna do it without bitching. Don’t go crying about hazing to anyone, either, because we will find out you did it and we will beat the fuck out of you.” Okay, maybe Heeseung is a little intimidating—it’s the imposing height, and the commanding tone he used on the yacht, and the bloodthirsty glimmer in his pupils. He’s still super sexy too, even if he’s saying a lot of words right now. 

Jake doesn’t feel anything about that, though. He doesn’t feel really warm and sweaty or have a lump in his throat or have ferocious butterflies making a mess of his stomach. Nothing like that. Heeseung doesn’t affect him. Not at all. 

“I have pro boxing gloves in Wii Sports,” Soobin adds. “And Wooyoung bites.” 

Yeonjun nods. “He bites hard.” 

“I bite really hard,” Wooyoung confirms. 

Heeseung side-eyes them for a good five seconds before addressing the pledges again. “We’re being serious. So leave now if you’re gonna be a little bitch.” 

A handful of pledges immediately make a beeline for the door, and Jake doesn’t blame them; no one with half a brain would willingly deal with power-drunk douchebags. Everyone who decides to stay is either dumb, eager to get a taste of that power one day, or they care a lot about building connections and creating the perfect resume. Then there’s Jake, who now has plenty of (questionable) reasons to keep his feet planted. 

The newest reason is staring right at him now, with an infuriating smirk on its face and a mischievous glint in its eyes.

Jake isn’t backing down. He’s going to win Heeseung’s little game and get his dignity back. 

Heeseung tears his gaze away from Jake and tamps down his amusement. “The rest of you will show up here tomorrow night with your shit packed. For the next two weeks, you all belong to us, got it?” He flashes everyone his most terrifying smile yet, smoothly hops down from the table, and passes the megaphone to Soobin. 

“And whoever has the blue Jeep Wrangler, you left your lights on,” Soobin announces. 

✧

Believe it or not, Jake is doing well in his classes so far. He’s been late to a few, and slept through one, but his book smarts are pulling their weight and then some—yeah, Jake is smart, and sometimes he thinks that intelligence is in all the wrong places. He wishes he was better at handling his own emotions, at being self-sufficient; he wishes he’d be okay if he didn’t have his parents and their money and their obsession with his success. 

Unfortunately, the only thing Jake’s good at is retaining information he’ll never need, being attractive, and convincing other people to do things for him. He can’t even drive. 

All he can do for now is keep his parents appeased so they’ll continue to support him and his atrocious spending habits without dragging him back to Australia. Get good grades, join ENu, help his dad expand the family business, eventually take the reins. Easy enough. 

His father agrees; everything must be so easy for Jake. “Told you you’d fit right in,” comes his flat voice from Jake’s phone speaker. Jake can’t hear the familiar echo of their home’s high ceilings and assumes his dad is at work, distracted. Always distracted. “How are you getting along with that Heeseung boy?” 

Jake rolls his eyes and resists the urge to growl at his phone. He’s distracted too, packing his bag for tonight. His father raised him this way; divided attention unless someone has something he really wants, never fully there for a conversation. “Heeseung… he’s so nice and welcoming,” Jake lies. “Super helpful.”

“Good. Make a lot of friends like that. Your mom and I aren’t over there to take care of you, so you’ll need someone, hear me?”

“Loud and clear. I’m sure the ENu guys will take great care of me.” If there’s any sarcasm in Jake’s voice, it isn’t caught. 

“Alright. Proud of you. I gotta go.” The call ends before Jake can even say bye. 

The silence tugs at Jake’s heart, tries to drown him in that familiar feeling of loneliness, but he bats its cold grasp away with music that sounds like it was made with a garbage disposal, a bag of Skittles, and the thought that he’ll be staying in a house full of hot dudes for a couple of weeks. He throws a handful of condoms into his bag, and two different bottles of lube, and a pair of fluffy handcuffs that Jungwon left on the couch yesterday. Just in case. 

✧

“They’re out of their minds,” Sunghoon mutters. 

For once, Jake has to agree with the man. 

The Epsilon Nu actives are nuts. They’ve decided to stick all of the pledges into one living area, cleared out the furniture to replace it with a scarce amount of blankets and pillows strewn about the floor and a row of metal dog bowls—fucking dog bowls full of tap water in case they get thirsty in the middle of the night—because they aren’t allowed in either of the goddamn kitchens. 

The most inhumane part of this situation is the lack of power outlets, though. Now Jake has to ration with the other pledges to charge his phone in here. 

He sighs, letting his bag slip from his shoulder. He’s not going to leave. That would mean a lot of things, and most importantly it would mean that Heeseung won. “Yeah, this is bullshit— Beomgyu what the fuck?” 

Beomgyu lifts his head and there’s water dripping from his chin. He’s properly on his hands and knees, too. “What? I was thirsty!” 

“You could have just picked up the bowl,” Jake says. He saunters over to the corner that Taehyun has occupied, away from all the other griping pledges, plops his bag down and reluctantly sits next to it. Ugh, he really spent his whole life being pampered just to end up on the floor like an animal.

Beomgyu crawls over to join him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Maybe I wanted to drink it like that.” 

“Did you though?” Taehyun asks. 

“It was an experience,” Beomgyu sighs, staring at the bowl with regret. “At least I can say that.” 

Jake shakes his head in disbelief. “Is this shit legal?” 

“Probably not.” Taehyun shrugs, wrapping himself up in one of the blankets like a burrito and swatting Beomgyu away when he tries to get him to share. “Actually. It’s definitely not legal. But, like. The dean is obsessed with these guys, ‘cause ENu is this school’s pride and joy. They’re all rich, too. Their own parents can get them out of anything. So with protection from their families and the school…” 

Jake gulps. “They can do whatever they want?” 

“Yup.”

Well, that’s just about as comforting as the cold, hard tile under Jake’s ass. That he’s gonna have to sleep on. 

The ground does get warmer as the night goes on, though, succumbing to the humid warmth of so many bodies in one room, and Jake thankfully doesn’t have to wrap himself in a blanket. Who knows what those things have been through? He doesn’t want that shit on him. And whenever the air conditioner clicks on and blows a crisp chill over Jake’s sweat-slick skin, he just uses Beomgyu as a blanket. 

Sleep comes to him in short fragments for a good portion of the night. His discomfort is one thing, but the earth-rattling, log-sawing, honk shoo snoring from multiple guys at once makes him feel insanely violent. He doesn’t properly fall asleep until four in the morning. 

That’s why he almost starts fighting the air as soon as he’s forced awake and it’s still fucking dark outside. 

“Get up, cocksuckers,” Yeonjun shouts, flicking the overhead lights on.

Jake groans and rolls onto his stomach, hiding his face in his arms. 

“You don’t want me to make you get your asses off of this floor,” Jay contributes—huh, and Jake thought Jay was kinda cool at first. Apparently he’s just as douchey as the rest of them. 

A few pledges are scrambling to get up, Jake can hear them, but he’s glued to the floor. Maybe if he just lays here and pretends to be dead, they’ll leave him alone. He’s tired enough that doing so makes him fall asleep again in a few seconds, and the next time he’s jolted awake it’s by a broad hand grabbing his ankle and dragging him, making his sweaty hands squeak against the floor to accompany his responding cry. “Just five more minutes,” he begs, fruitlessly kicking at the attacker. 

The next sequence of events is too quick for his groggy mind to fathom, strong arms hooked under his shoulders and the hardness of the tile leaving his body, hands searing the skin of his waist and the room spinning, a muscular shoulder pressed hard against his hips and a hand steadied on the back of his thigh as his gravity shifts. It smells like Heeseung; he’s thrown over Heeseung’s shoulder, like a doll, exactly the way Heeseung had manhandled Yeonjun at the first party. 

“Put me down,” Jake demands, but there’s no conviction in it. He’s far too tired, far too hot under the collar over Heeseung’s strength; he’s not even trying to hold on, he’s just limp and useless, arms hanging and blood rushing to his head. 

Heeseung laughs and Jake can feel it in his stomach. “You’re so easy to hold, though,” he comments, wrapping an arm tightly around Jake’s trim waist. 

Jake bites back a groan, trying not to shift his hips as Heeseung carries him into the foyer. Holy fuck, he hates this guy so much. That’s why his skin is burning all over. That’s why he gets the urge to pounce on Heeseung as soon as he’s set down beside the other pledges—to beat him up, of course. 

Heeseung is amused by Jake’s grumpy pout, chewing on a smile as he leaves him sulking. 

“It’s gonna be a long day,” Soobin starts, strolling in front of the pledges like a drill sergeant. He looks even fluffier fresh after sleep, hair a mess of spun moonlight falling into his eyes, tall frame minimized by a baggy hoodie. He isn’t that scary, but the guys behind him are, so. “Our bathrooms need to be deep cleaned, our cars need to be washed, and the house needs to be decorated for the party tonight.” What party?! 

“There’s some other shit,” Heeseung adds. “You can look at the whiteboard in the kitchen and I don’t care who does what, just get it done.” 

Sunghoon raises his hand and Soobin stops in front of him. “What?” 

“It’s Monday. We have classes.” 

“Figure it out,” Yeonjun grumbles, already halfway up the stairs. “You’re all dismissed. We’re goin’ back to bed.” 

The actives all file upstairs while disgruntled pledges flock toward the kitchen, rubbing the sleep out of their eyes and rolling the stiffness out of their necks. 

Jake almost wants to cry when he sees the whiteboard that once housed a fun little game, now completely covered in someone’s hardly legible, tiny handwriting; menial task after menial task, mostly focused on taking care of the house and prepping for a neon-themed party. They range from snaking all the drains to bringing lunch to Soobin’s mom. 

Dealing with this bullshit is sort of a team-building exercise, if you think about it. What starts with everyone arguing over the easiest tasks ends with the biggest game of rock-paper-scissors Jake has had the honor of participating in. There are about twenty-five pledges. He learns the names of Jaemin—who definitely bit people as a child, Shotaro—who is way too sweet to even be here, and Yangyang—who looks like he collects Nike shoes. 

By the time the sun is starting to rise, Jake is stuck with washing the cars, cleaning the pool, helping to decorate the house, and making breakfast for the guys. 

It could be worse, honestly. Taehyun is forced to do all the gross shit because he fell asleep on the kitchen counter, and Beomgyu wakes him up by dumping a dog bowl—the one he drank out of, specifically—on his head. 

Beomgyu almost dies. 

Jake takes a five minute nap, wakes up soaking wet, and Beomgyu almost dies again. 

After almost committing a murder and taking a quick shower, Jake throws on his outfit for the day: denim short shorts, a white button-up, and a silk scarf tied around his head, damp fringe slipping out and spilling over his forehead because he doesn’t have time to blow dry and style his hair. 

Let’s be serious, Jake has only made himself breakfast a total of two times in his life, and annoying his live-in chef every morning wasn’t exactly an apprenticeship. It takes him ages to make mediocre eggs and toast for multiple grown men, while Yangyang fries bacon next to him and they both run away screaming every time one of them gets popped with grease. 

Jake is slaving over his eighth egg when Heeseung leans against the counter next to him, tossing an apple from one hand to the other, watching him intently. 

When the egg is sufficiently fried and a little too dark along the edges, Jake refuses to look up, nudging Heeseung with his elbow as he lifts the pan from the stove. 

Heeseung shuffles aside with an amused huff, and Jake slides the egg into a plate. The scents of whiskey and cedarwood are strong and fresh and distracting as all hell, even over the strong smell of Yangyang’s extra crispy bacon.

“Grab your breakfast and go,” Jake mumbles, reaching for the next egg, cracking it, and managing to get part of the eggshell in the pan. He’s sweaty and annoyed and fussy; he doesn’t have time for Heeseung’s… Heeseungness. 

Heeseung shakes his head. “Is that how you say good morning?” he teases, voice a little rough with sleep. 

“Good morniiing,” Jake singsongs. “Lovely day to go fuck yourself, isn’t it?” 

“Not when your slutty mouth is right here.”  

Yangyang violently side-eyes them, ignoring the batch of bacon that’s starting to look like miserable strips of greasy charcoal. 

Jake’s eyelid twitches. 

“Oh,” Heeseung continues, “we wouldn’t want you making a mess all over the floor, though, would we? You guys already have so much cleaning to do…” He hums, propping a hip against the counter, and Jake can feel his eyes searing through his skin. “I should just bend you over the counter and fuck you right in the ass, hm? You look like a pretty little housewife right now, barefoot in my kitchen. I should get you pregnant, too.” 

Jake is about to explode. His hand shakes as he removes his undercooked egg from the stove and shovels it into a messy heap, nearly missing the plate. He should be revolted by Heeseung’s words, he should punch Heeseung in the fucking face, but the images forced into his mind have his insides simmering like Yangyang’s terrible bacon. 

He’s filled with thoughts of Heeseung pounding into him against every surface in the kitchen, hands finding purchase on counters and windows and Jake’s skin, sinful words promising to fill Jake up until he can’t take any more. 

“Fuck you,” Jake spits, pointing his trembling spatula at Heeseung’s stupidly pretty face. He has no right looking the way he does, cast in a halo of sunlight like an angel, eyes deceptively innocent and wide like a doe’s. “You’re disgusting. I should get a Title Nine case on your ass.” 

Heeseung shrugs, eyes relaxing and lips tugged into a smirk. “Go ahead and try, sweetheart. Tell me how it works out for you, yeah?” And off he goes, leaving Jake a spluttering, tomato-red mess. 

“Me, personally, I wouldn’t take that,” Yangyang says. 

Jake shoots him a glare, still armed with the spatula. 

“Okay, okay! Sorry!” 

✧

Jake makes it on time to his morning class, but he just sleeps through the entire lecture and walks out with an empty notes page and a dry mouth. To spare his other professors from his sleep talking, he doesn’t even bother with his afternoon classes, far too busy running around like a headless chicken anyway. 

The cars are scrubbed spotless, the pool is cleaned of everything except for a palmetto bug that Jake is too scared to deal with, and he hangs up every disco ball, streamer, and blacklight they could find while Sunghoon tries to figure out the fog machines and Beomgyu does a shit job at holding the ladder still. 

They manage to get all of their tasks done with time to spare. The house is cleaned and transformed into a neon nightclub, littered throughout with washable glow-in-the-dark paints and metallic confetti. 

It’s been a long, hard day, and Jake is ready to party, White Claw in hand, arms stacked with glowing bracelets, white shirt artfully splattered with neon pink paint. 

A lot of people show up, considering this is a last-minute thing. The house is packed enough for Jake to avoid the ENu brothers, ducking through throngs of glowing figures every time he catches a glimpse of one, taking this time to enjoy drinks and food and the party atmosphere, numbing his mind with it all.

He eventually runs into Sunoo and almost shouts with joy, scooping him into a clumsy, buzzed and sleep-deprived hug. The gentle scent of Sunoo’s fabric softener is soothing, as is the warmth of his embrace. Jake could fall asleep in it. “Oh my god, Sunoo. I’m so glad to see you.” And he really is. Sunoo did adopt him like a stray puppy, after all.

Sunoo raises an eyebrow when Jake releases him. “Glad to see you too. Let me guess… shitty day?” 

“Could be worse,” Jake says. “Nothing I can’t handle.” 

“Uh huh.” Sunoo looks Jake up and down with narrowed eyes. He’s even gorgeous under the purple glow of blacklights, an almost otherworldly beauty to him that Jake is starting to find comfort in. “Well, knowing Heeseung, it will get worse. Way worse.” 

“Problem for later. Let’s just have some fun for now.” 

If there’s anything Jake has mastered, it’s the art of pretending his problems don’t exist. It’s one of the perks of being an airhead. Ahh, escapism. 

But the mindless fun unfortunately doesn’t last long. Jake dances for all of five minutes before almost passing out in Sunoo’s arms, then finds a couch and falls asleep as soon as his face meets the armrest. 

He wakes up confused, face sticky with drool and head pounding, and, most notably, he’s being dragged across the floor by his feet, collecting confetti and who knows what else with his ass and hair. The ceiling is spinning, streamers reaching for him like shimmering tentacles and remnants of artificial fog making him feel like he’s at the bottom of a murky lake, getting tugged to his doom by a ferocious alligator. 

The alligator deposits him at a few pledges’ feet like a useless slab of meat, and he struggles to sit up, rubbing at his forehead. 

“Party’s over,” says Yeonjun, then ironically chugs a cup of something that’s undoubtedly alcohol. “This place better be clean by the time we wake up. Night, cunts.” 

Yeonjun’s empty cup hits Jake’s head with a hollow thunk and Jake collapses to the floor again with a dramatic groan.

The rest of the night is a half-drunk, delirious blur, of garbage bags full of alcohol-soaked trash, complaints over the dire need for hazmat suits, decorations haphazardly shoved into bins and hidden in the attic, neon paint coating Jake’s sore fingers as he scrubs, and scrubs, and scrubs. The labels said the paints were washable, for crying out loud. 

It’s nearing four in the morning by the time the house is clean enough, nearing four thirty by the time Jake is showered and ready for bed, nearing five by the time he’s passed out, and nearing six by the time an aggressive air horn jars him from a dream about his hot English professor. 

Jake buries his face in his hands and growls in frustration. All he’s asking for is some real sleep. Please, god. 

“Time to get your exercise in,” Jay yells. “Get the fuck up. Start running laps around the house. Now. And don’t stop until we tell you to. Go, go, go.” The air horn sounds again and Jake’s skull nearly implodes. 

He feels like shit, muscles aching and stiff as he peels himself from the floor. His throat is dry. His eyes sting. But he’s going to win this goddamn game if it kills him. 

So, he quickly steps into a random pair of Gucci slides, ignores Yangyang’s shouts of protest, and jogs his miserable ass out of the house. 

A sleepy morning run would be pretty bearable if it weren’t for the weather. The warm moisture suspended in the air makes it feel like they’re running around in someone’s mouth. It’s suffocating. Jake’s lungs hurt like hell. Sweat drenches him from head to toe, soaking through his shirt and dripping from his hair, even minimizing the traction between his feet and Yangyang’s slides. At least he’s not barefoot—sorry, Yangyang. 

The actives, meanwhile, are relaxed on their lawn chairs, feet kicked up on coolers full of crisp waters and whistles nestled between their lips. Jake hopes one of them chokes on their whistle. 

It has to be half an hour of torture before the pledges are allowed to rest, all rolling around in the dewy grass, chests heaving and muscles twitching from exertion. 

Heeseung pops one of the coolers open. Just the smell of the ice has Jake’s mouth watering. “Thirsty, anyone?” 

There are a few cheers and sighs of relief, but Heeseung slams it shut again. “Don’t celebrate yet. If you want it, you’re gonna have to work for it. A hundred jumping jacks, twenty sit-ups, twenty push-ups, another lap.” 

“Fuck that,” Beomgyu says. He stands up, brushes blades of grass from his butt, and heads toward the backyard. “I’m drinking the pool water.” 

“Is that allowed?” Jaemin asks. 

Heeseung shrugs. “Knock yourself out. You dumbasses forgot to clean the pool last night, anyway.” 

Jaemin follows behind Beomgyu without hesitation, apparently not concerned for his health at all.

Hell no. Jake’s heart is set on a nice, cold bottle of water. He’s not drinking out of that diseased pool. 

A little more exercise won’t hurt, anyway. Jake is strong. He works out. He has good endurance. Maybe he wants to be a show off, too, just a little bit, so he wordlessly scrambles to his feet and starts doing jumping jacks. 

It’s a feat, but Jake would handle this effortlessly if not for the weather, he swears. The sun is starting to come out and the heat is burning into his back as he completes the calisthenics, muscles screaming for him to stop. Beomgyu cheers him on once he returns from the pool, and that might be the only thing that gets Jake through the final lap. 

“Done,” Jake wheezes, knees buckling into the grass in front of Heeseung. “Now gimme.” 

Heeseung laughs—eyes twinkling with pure joy, the sadistic fuck—as he reaches into the cooler and pulls out a bottle, and holy shit, Jake could lick that condensation right now. He gulps dryly at the sight of it dripping down Heeseung’s forearm, leans in to grab the bottle once it’s in reach, and whimpers when Heeseung snatches it away, nearly making him smack face-first into his crotch. “Ah ah ah.” Heeseung’s thick fingers work their way into Jake’s drenched hair, dragging through knots until he can get a good hold on it and angle Jake’s face upward. “Be a good boy and open up for me.” 

Jake never thought he would find himself submitting to a guy like this, a guy unironically wearing a backwards baseball cap that only matches his shoes, a guy who would be nothing without daddy’s money. Believe him, if Jake had the energy to put up a fight, he absolutely would. But he doesn’t. He’s tired and his muscles are throbbing and all of his blood is rushing out of his head and into his dick. Workout boners are a thing, just for the record. 

He’s simply thirsty enough to kill for a mere droplet of water, so he complies, parting his lips and baring his tongue—talk about deja vu.

“You’re so easy,” Heeseung comments. He brings the water up to his mouth to bite the cap off and spit it into the grass—a display of bravado that should not be as sexy as it is—then holds Jake’s head still, forces the rim of the bottle between his plush lips, and starts pouring it into his mouth. 

It’s bitingly cold and refreshing. Jake can’t help himself; he fully moans. And he keeps letting out little suggestive noises as he gulps the water down greedily, wave after wave of frigid relief gushing into his stomach. It feels like a tropical storm is whirling deep in Jake’s core, the coldness a tingling balm over the unbearable heat inside him, shocking bliss and scorching excitement crashing through his body in tandem. And something about being bottle-fed like an animal, completely at Heeseung’s mercy, is really doing it for him. 

What the fuck? Jake is turned on by this. 

Distantly, he hears Beomgyu throwing up in the grass, but he doesn’t have the capacity to be grossed out when he feels so good. 

There really is too much of a good thing, though, and he’s starting to reach that limit. He’s nauseous and lightheaded and can’t take any more if he doesn’t want to join Beomgyu over there, so he squirms and coughs, spitting water down his frontside, wetting his shirt and the crotch of his shorts. 

Heeseung relents, having emptied most of the bottle, and tosses it behind his shoulder, Mother Earth be damned. Fuck, he even makes littering hot. “So messy. Was that good, puppy?”

Jake nods and licks the remaining wetness from his lips, uncaring of the mess dripping down his chin. 

“Mmh, I can tell,” Heeseung says, dragging his penetrating gaze down Jake’s body. 

And suddenly, Jake is painfully aware of the way he looks, how hot his cheeks are and how messy his hair is. He’s only wearing his night clothes, just a skimpy pair of sleep shorts and a white t-shirt that leaves nothing to the imagination when it’s wet. And it is; it’s soaked, sticking to every inch of flushed skin it touches. Jake can feel his sensitive nipples shifting against the fabric and just knows they’re erect and visible. And the shorts are the worst part. They’re obviously tented, clinging to the shape of his hard dick, exposing his arousal. 

And in front of everyone. In front of the pledges and the actives alike. Some might be distracted by their own quests for water or trying not to go toward the light, but Jake can feel the attention on him. 

Before he can preserve his dignity, the sole of Heeseung’s sneaker digs into his crotch, a relentless pressure right between Jake’s thighs. 

He yelps, a shock of pain and pleasure shooting through his tired body, his hands shooting to grasp at Heeseung’s ankle. 

“Wow, Jake,” Heeseung mutters. “I knew you were a slut, but you’re a gross little freak, too. Holy fuck. You seriously like this.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement and it’s true; Jake likes this. He likes it when Heeseung grinds his shoe down against his throbbing dick and he likes being talked to this way. 

Jake groans, gaze teary and hands trembling as they rest on Heeseung’s shoe, wanting to push it down harder. He wants to feel, he wants to feel until he doesn’t have the capacity to think anymore and Heeseung is making him feel everything, humiliating him, hurting him, making him want.

Heeseung laughs cruelly, tugging needlessly at Jake’s hair like a leopard toying with its prey, and refuses to move his foot. It’s just there now, a steady ache, both too much and not enough. “Can you guys believe this pathetic little fucker?” 

“Nah, he’s weird as hell,” Yeonjun says, “and that’s a lot coming from me.” 

Beomgyu pukes again, which makes Jaemin puke and Jake really doesn’t want to know what was in that pool water. 

“I dunno. Kink shaming isn’t cool,” comments Sunghoon, whose heart is in the right place but— 

“What if kink shaming is Jake’s kink?” Taehyun asks. 

Yeah. Yup. That might be the case. 

“Wouldn’t put that past him.” Heeseung wets his lips with a slow tongue, staring down at Jake with something carnal and hungry brewing in those dark pupils. 

“Can I go inside now?” Shotaro asks. “Things are getting kinda weird.” 

Soobin blows his whistle. “No. Keep jumping.” 

God, this is unbearable. 

“Heeseung,” Jake whines, hands reaching up to clutch at Heeseung’s shirt. “Just. Please.” 

Heeseung raises his eyebrows. “Looks like the doggy can speak. Come on, then. Tell everybody what you want.” 

Jake sucks in a wet gasp, body slumping forward and forehead pressing against Heeseung’s hip. He needs relief but his words are a burning lump in his throat, clutched tightly by his pride. He’s suffered enough, hasn’t he? “I can’t.”

Heeseung gently moves his foot, encouraging. “If you want it that badly, then yes, you can. Unless you want me to leave you like this?” 

It sounds like hell, stringing his dignity on the line just to be denied what he craves. Not happening. Jake’s need to get off is a powerful motivator. 

“Wanna come,” he chokes out. The words brand a deep shame into his throat, but he can’t take them back and he doesn’t really want to. 

Heeseung hums, rubbing his shoe against Jake’s dick with a more promising pressure than before. It hurts but it hurts good. 

“Fuck,” Jake whimpers, hips rocking into the sensation, thighs trembling. 

Just yesterday, if someone asked him if he’d be into this, he would’ve probably gotten a restraining order on them. Who would’ve guessed that preppy prince Jake would enjoy getting dirty, like, actually dirty—literal dirt smudged up his shins, grass stuck to his clothes, heat sticky on his skin, and the unknown monstrosities under Heeseung’s shoe grinding into his sweaty crotch—and in front of everyone’s salads? He’s losing his mind. Maybe it’s the sun, or the sleep deprivation, or Heeseung himself. He just can’t stop, can’t stop grinding into Heeseung’s shoe, can’t stop whining and babbling about how good he feels. 

“You’re fucking nasty, Jake.” Heeseung’s tone is icy enough to cut straight down Jake’s spine, to freeze his veins over and make him start sobbing, full-on tears and drool and snot, because the words ring true; he’s nasty in every sense of the word, a pitiful, dirty bitch in heat, perverted and reckless in his desire, subjecting other people to witnessing it. His blubbering is forced on display when Heeseung grabs him by the hair and grabs him by the throat. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Heeseung is choking him now, rough, vicious fingers biting into his skin hard enough to leave bruises, palm hot and firm against Jake’s sweat-slick neck, forcing him to look up and endure Heeseung’s brutal glare. It burns hotter than the sun on Jake’s back, boils him down to nothing but his own suffocating shame. 

Even bathed in morning sunlight, skin doused in a heavenly glow and irises warm and rich like freshly brewed tea, there’s an air to Heeseung that’s cruel and menacing, an underlying part of him that’s far more concerning than daddy issues or affluenza or an interest in cryptocurrency. It’s in the satisfied twitch of his lips with each pained cry of Jake’s, the hand steadily tightening, like he wants to push and push until Jake is on the precipice of death itself—Heeseung is fucked up. Deeply. 

And Jake melts under his malicious attention like it’s the touch of an angel. “Please,” he chokes out. “Please, Heeseung. Don’t stop.” 

“Do you hear yourself? Begging to get off right here, in front of everyone,” Heeseung spits out. “No one wants to see that shit, stupid bitch.” 

“I do,” Wooyoung interjects. “Yeonjun is making popcorn.” 

Heeseung glares daggers at him, caught up in his own spell of depravity. “Maybe shut up?” 

“Oh, sorry,” Wooyoung squeaks, then clears his throat and tries not to seem scared. “Yeah. This is so revolting and not entertaining at all. Boo. Tomato, tomato.” 

“I said shut up,” Heeseung bites out. 

These guys need to stop being idiots for just five seconds so Jake can get off, seriously. He’s starting to feel dizzy and nauseous, and the last time he felt like this he almost threw up on Heeseung’s dick. He sniffles, weakly tapping on Heeseung’s wrist, squirming against the grass. 

Now it smells like popcorn and Jake almost begs to bury his face in Heeseung’s crotch, wishing he could consume the woody masculine scent, starving for the man in front of him rather than actual food. 

“What did I miss?” Yeonjun asks. His voice sounds distant beyond the ringing in Jake’s ears. He says something else too, maybe offering Jake some popcorn? 

Jake blinks, trying to focus on literally anything and only seeing static. “Uh… I don’t feel so good.” 

✧

No, Jake didn’t throw up this time! He just fainted a little bit. 

“What the fuck is narcan gonna do, Soob?” is the first thing Jake hears when he comes to. It’s Kai, he thinks. His head is still spinning. 

“Just in case,” Soobin says, “we don’t know if he’s on drugs!” 

Jake stirs, groaning as he regains control of his limbs and his tongue. He feels the familiar give of sofa cushions under his body. 

“Wait, he’s waking up.” Kai breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank god.” 

It’s disorienting at first. Jake doesn’t remember how he ended up here and it all comes back to him in blurry fragments. Stealing Yangyang’s slides, rolling around in the grass, ending up on his knees again and— “where’s Heeseung?” he asks, sitting up a little too quickly and almost fainting again. 

Kai scoffs. “Calling his lawyer. Just in case you die.” 

“Wha— I’m not gonna die, what?!” 

Heeseung might be the one who dies, honestly, because Jake is going to kill him. And after that, he’s going to kill him again. 

✧

“I don’t think murder is a good idea, Jake,” Sunghoon says, plucking stray scraps of lettuce from his tray and trying to stick them back into his sandwich. 

The ENu guys are out on the beach today, too preoccupied with doing drugs and getting sand all over their dicks to bother the pledges. It’s a much needed break from the suffering. Jake takes the opportunity to catch up on sleep and the classes that he missed, to pack a bag with his own blanket and pillow and fresh clothes, and to finally do a complete shower routine, ten-step skincare and deep conditioning included.

He’s not going to get all ugly and messy for Heeseung again.  

“Then what do I do?” Jake groans around a mouthful of salad. “I can’t stand his face. I hate him so much.” 

Taehyun blinks at him. “Jake… if you didn’t like his face then I don’t think you would’ve—”

“Don’t say it.”

“Sucked his—”

“Taehyun!” 

“Dick.” 

“It was a fluke,” Jake mutters. “I need him dead—ugh, there’s no telling what he’ll make us do next.” 

✧

Things have calmed down at Epsilon Nu, for the most part. It would seem that the pledges are chew toys and the active brothers are insatiable wolves, already bored and seeking new sources of sick satisfaction. 

There’s still a lot of name-calling and yelling and threats of bodily harm, of course, and the pledges have to clean up after all the guys and wait on them like butlers, but it’s tolerable now that Jake has gotten used to sleeping on the ground and isn’t exhausted out of his wits. Apparently humans, like, need sleep to function properly. Crazy how that works. 

But no amount of sleep could prepare someone to endure Lee Heeseung. God, that bastard is insufferable. As if hitting Jake’s ego with a truck, backing over it, and hitting it again wasn’t enough, he feels the need to target Jake specifically, always asking Jake to bring him a drink when he’s all the way across the house, always bodily dragging Jake out of “bed” first, always degrading Jake with the harshest, most problematic words in his arsenal. 

It’s always Jake, like he did anything to deserve it. He’s an absolute angel—shut up, he is. There’s nothing else to see about him, which is why it irks him that Heeseung is always giving him this look, this inquisitive, probing look like Jake is a prey animal to be carefully studied and stealthily hunted. It’s fucking weird and totally not attractive how he acts like a sleek, cunning jungle cat, intent and confident in every action. No, seriously, Jake shouldn’t feel attracted to that vile creature. Not that he… does. Ahem. 

But when Heeseung isn’t around, Jake is starting to feel less like a hostage and more like a guest in the frat house. Kai talks to him like he’s an actual person, sometimes, and Soobin greets him with a gentle pat on the shoulder when they pass each other—as opposed to aggressively shoving him into a wall or a bush like the rest of the guys. 

That’s why Jake’s guard is down when Jay blows that stupid air horn again, and he almost drops his phone in Beomgyu’s dog bowl. 

“Load up, bitches. We’re going on a trip.”

Well that can’t be good. 

The trip is a short drive to the Decelis campus. They’re led through the school’s venue hall and into a ballroom, which is set with a stage and rows of chairs, clinquant streamers cascading down every wall, and a snack table stocked with sweets that one of the pledges is unsubtly stuffing his face with. 

Jake squints at the big sign by the door. 

He-Hoes for Environmental Woes: Strip Show & Fundraiser! 

First of all, Jake knows for a fact that none of these guys care about the environment, especially not Heeseung who throws plastic bottles around and invests in NFTs. Secondly, what is their business here? Everything seems to be set up already. Maybe they’ll have to serve drinks or something? 

“Get backstage, sluts,” Heeseung commands, somehow having procured that stupid megaphone again—Jake could’ve sworn he threw that thing in the trash. “You’re on in an hour.” 

Oh… Haha. They’re the He-Hoes. That makes a lot of sense, unfortunately.

The pledges have varying reactions to this particular task. It’s utter chaos backstage, not enough room for everyone to get ready and have their respective mental breakdowns. Sunghoon has a hundred-yard stare while another pledge helps to grease him up, Beomgyu is shaving his legs in the bathroom sink and getting shaving cream all over the floor, Taehyun is stressing over the Sharpie penises that Yangyang drew all over him last night, and a cacophony of complaints buzzes through the cramped space, drowning out the music playing in the ballroom. 

Jake, honestly, is thriving. Tonight is going to be a win for him, he can feel it. 

The ENu brothers are doing this to humiliate them all, to force them into a foreign, unfamiliar situation where everyone can watch them in their awkward struggle. And it might work against some of these guys—especially the guy hiding in the rafters right now, bless his heart—but not Jake. Like, hello, he’s prepared for this. All of that gyration practice back at home won’t be for naught. This is the perfect opportunity to win some of his dignity back, to get some positive attention on him for a change.

So, he acquires a can of spray-on glitter and goes to town, coating his abs, his arms, his hair, successfully turning himself into a Twilight vampire and slipping back into his shirt. He just chose a good day to wear that light blue, Ralph Lauren button-up he stole from the guys’ laundry; now the glitter will be their problem later. 

Excitement tingles in Jake’s tongue and fingertips as Yunjin reads out an opening spiel to the audience, bursts down his ribcage when Jay cues them onto the stage. Everyone cheers and the music gets louder and Beomgyu announces that he might piss himself. 

Jake rolls his shoulders back, takes a deep breath, and slinks into the neon light cast upon the stage. 

He starts simple. A few body rolls, hands fixed at his belt, eyelids drooping as he studies the crowd. There are some faces he recognizes and more that he doesn’t, either hollering encouragement or laughing at the pledges’ misery. It’s a sizable audience but Jake doesn’t feel nervous or embarrassed; he’s filled with the same pride and delightful heat from the back-to-school party.

His hips gyrate like they have a mind of their own, teeth toying at his pillowy lower lip, fingers crawling teasingly up his body before working back down, unfastening shirt buttons as they go. The crowd grows rowdier once the starchy fabric of his shirt slips from his shoulders and bunches at his elbows, torso revealed, defined abs tensing and rolling under his glittery skin. For his own sanity, he pretends that some of his fellow pledges aren’t struggling to twerk and forming a clunky grind train right now. 

It’s just him and his audience, just good fun until his eyes find Heeseung in the crowd. 

Of course Heeseung is watching him and only him, eyes laser-focused and lips quirked with amusement. His posture is slouched into a sleazy manspread, elbow propped onto the back of his chair, head tilted lazily. Even the way he sits is annoying. Jake gets mad just looking at him, heat rising under his skin, but he can’t stop all the same. His gaze remains locked as he sinks to his knees, spreads them along the edge of the stage, and grinds his hips toward the crowd, one hand braced against the ground, the other reaching suggestively into his hair. 

Heeseung grins, pleased with the reality he’s crafted for Jake and himself. 

At the corner of his vision, Jake witnesses Beomgyu falling off the stage and gets the perfect idea. He kicks his feet down, slips off stage, and starts sleazing his way through the audience, caressing shoulders, letting people shove money into his belt, twirling locks of hair around his fingers. Two seats down from Heeseung, he removes his shirt entirely and hooks it behind Soobin’s neck, yanking him forward and rolling his hips, just short of his belt buckle catching Soobin’s nose. 

Soobin laughs, cheeks flushed as he sits back. But his smile drops when he looks at the shirt and realizes it’s actually his. Oops. Haha. 

Jake prances away before Soobin can tackle him, then tosses a leg over Heeseung’s seat and smoothly lands in his lap. 

Heeseung’s face flashes with surprise, doe-eyes all soft and pretty for a split second. It’s gone as quickly as it comes, but Jake saw it—he’s getting somewhere, gaining a modicum of control, showing Heeseung that his game has two players. 

It’s a start, even if Heeseung’s eyes darken as they roam all over Jake, impenetrable by the bright red lights overhead, even if Jake’s hips stutter where they grind down into the sturdy warmth of his body. At least Heeseung is letting him do what he wants, posture still relaxed and strong thighs steadily supporting Jake’s weight, hands interlocked behind his own head. 

Jake smiles, crazed, licking the grit of fine glitter from his lips, rolling his hips in pretty circles and giggling deliriously as money flutters against his skin, raining over him. If humiliation completely destroys him, then adoration puts him back together. Maybe it’s not a good way to live, so deeply affected by other people’s perception of him, but that’s just how it is and right now everything is perfect. 

When he gets bored of all the grinding and Heeseung reaches out to touch his chest, Jake scoots off of his lap, holds Heeseung by the knees as he sinks to the floor and teases his lips down his clothed thigh. Heeseung’s responding twitch makes him feel daring, powerful, unstoppable. So, he turns around, steadies his palms against the floor, and maneuvers his body weight into the air, spurred on by shouts and whistles to continue holding himself in a handstand, his crotch level with Heeseung’s chest. 

He feels broad hands gliding up his body, squeezing his sides and coming to support him by the hips as his thighs spread wide, giving Heeseung a nice view of the way he winds his ass in circles for the audience. 

Everyone goes insane. Money blankets the floor. This is so fun; if Jake wasn’t rich and didn’t have family business obligations, he would love to be a stripper, to fluster men like Heeseung every day— 

Or maybe not. Heeseung isn’t too flustered if his roaming hands have anything to say, touching and squeezing on Jake’s thighs. 

Those hands apply a new pressure and pull up on Jake’s thighs like a barbell, forcing his crotch into Heeseung’s face and his legs atop Heeseung’s shoulders. 

Jake yelps, scrambling to hold on to Heeseung’s legs as the ground falls farther away from his face and rough, fragrant denim rubs against his nose instead, Heeseung having stood up, holding Jake up by nothing but his thighs. They’re practically in a 69 position and Jake feels embarrassment finally tinting his ears at how easily he’s maneuvered and carried. How easily he’s laid back onto the stage and how horny he gets just from Heeseung dry humping his face. How he spins like a top when Heeseung turns him around to crawl between his legs. 

Jake blinks up at Heeseung in a daze, subconsciously letting his knees hike themselves up on his hips. There’s glitter all over Heeseung, on his jeans and shirt and hands, even on the tip of his nose and along the sharp cut of his jaw, and it feels good to have him marked somehow, something to get back for the purple bruises still healing up and down Jake’s throat. 

Heeseung takes his shirt off as if he practices doing it in the mirror, yanking it in three quick motions—up, over his head, thrown into the enthusiastic crowd—then leans forward to brace his hands on either side of Jake’s head, body rolling with mouthwatering practice, crotch bumping into Jake’s ass. He looks sweaty, glistening and flushed but Jake probably looks even sweatier, wet rivulets drawn through glitter and upper lip beading with moisture. 

“You just keep proving what a slut you are.” Heeseung grinds nice and slow into Jake, letting him feel the insistent hardness against his ass. “Fucking annoying little bitch, driving me crazy,” he growls, punctuating his point with a harsh thrust. His chest is heaving like he’s a dragon ready to spit smoke and flame, his arms flexing menacingly as he moves above Jake. “You want me. Admit it, whore. Tell me you want me to destroy that pretty ass of yours with my cock.” 

Jake bites back a moan, curling his fingers around Heeseung’s forearms. He can’t look Heeseung in the eye, and he can’t look at the ceiling without getting blinded by the lights so he squints down at Heeseung’s toned chest. “No,” he says, nearly inaudible. “I don’t even— don’t even like you. You make me feel sick,” which isn’t technically a lie; Heeseung has made him puke and pass out. “I don’t want you at all,” which is a lie. It’s a lie and they both know it. 

Heeseung scoffs down at him, teeth flashing through a vile sneer. “Yeah? Is that why you were grinding all on my lap like a sloppy hooker?” 

“Don’t let it get to your head,” Jake mutters. “I’d rather eat rocks than let you fuck me.” His eyes shoot wide open. “Please don’t make me eat rocks—”

Heeseung rolls his eyes, maneuvers Jake’s legs around like he’s just a flimsy doll, and flips him onto his hands and knees, pressing up against his ass. 

“Guys, they’re having sex again,” Taehyun complains from the sidelines. “Get a room!” 

What?! They’re not having sex. Jake would never. He wouldn’t like it if Heeseung pulled his pants down and fucked into him in front of a hundred people, illuminated by reds and violets, showering in dollar bills. That’s why he squirms when he can hear Heeseung unbuckling his own belt, why he whimpers and pushes his ass back like a silent plea; it’s a normal, totally appalled reaction. 

“You’re such a brat,” Heeseung comments. “Waste of my fucking time—no one likes a tease, Jake. You’re nothing but a hole to me, can’t you see that? I guess you are just a stupid dog, you don’t even know what’s good for you.” The words are like a hot knife digging into Jake’s spine and turning, turning, turning, pure, scathing mortification leaving him paralyzed.

Jake doesn’t know what kind of pain to expect next, but it isn’t Heeseung sweeping his arms out from under him and yanking them behind his back. He turns his face in time for his cheek to smack against the ground, a sharp cry forced out of him. Rough leather is wrapped around his wrists, rubbing his skin raw and pulling tight enough to make his bones feel like they’re being crushed. 

Heeseung deftly fastens the belt, landing a sound smack on Jake’s ass before the warmth of his body retreats, leaving Jake shivering and panting and needy. 

Oh no. No, no, no. “Heeseung, wait,” Jake calls out, voice cracking embarrassingly as he scrambles to sit up, skin slippery against the polished stage, feet kicking out and accidentally tripping Beomgyu. Heeseung’s retreating figure shoots him the middle finger. 

Great. Here Jake is, all sweaty and glittery and blushing on the ground, hands tied behind his back with Heeseung’s belt, once again humiliated and achingly horny. 

Heeseung is going to pay for this, even if it is kind of sort of a little bit Jake’s fault for being a dumbass.

✧

Jake has a plan. With twenty-some pledges on his side and Epsilon Nu’s refusal to get the authorities involved in anything—for obvious reasons—he should’ve come up with it a week ago. 

The obvious course of action is revenge, and what better way to get revenge on a frat house than a malicious prank? 

“Here’s the plan,” he starts, smacking the table with a yardstick, all business and authority. He reserved a whole study room for this. “Tomorrow, the guys will be gone for an away game. That gives us twenty-four hours to secure as many incriminating photos of them as we can.” 

Shotaro raises his hand. 

“You, in the ugly tracksuit.” 

“I thought you knew my name…”

Jake nods. “Yeah, I do. I just really hate your outfit.” 

“Um…” Shotaro frowns down at his Adidas tracksuit—it’s giving gym teacher. “Anyway, where, exactly, do we find incriminating photos?” 

“Ask around. I’m sure most people on campus have some. Those guys are sleazeballs,” Jake says. He turns to face the whiteboard, then points at a terrible rendition of Yeonjun in dry-erase marker, with a snot bubble because funny. “Once we have the photos and as many gallons of lube we can find, this guy is gonna be our key inside. The dumbass always leaves his window open, so all we have to do is climb a ladder and sneak in. Then, we glue the pictures everywhere and dump the lube all over the floor. They’ll be busting their asses trying to take the pictures down. Foolproof and hilarious.” 

“Wow, I’m impressed.” Taehyun nods in approval. “And here I thought your penis was stuck where your brain is supposed to be.” 

“Thanks—wait, hey!” 

Taehyun’s inference wasn’t too far off the mark, but ouch. 

✧

For the first time since he’s gotten to this school, things end up going smoothly for Jake for a full twenty four hours.

He bribes some random senior for a picture of Yeonjun passed out in the grass with his pants down, coaxes Jay’s nudes out of Jungwon, and digs up a few cringy, naked mirror pics from Heeseung’s phone while he’s in the shower. The alpha male poses and chad faces in those pictures should be a crime; no dick size can redeem that greasy lip bite. Again, ick. Heeseung is so gross. The worst brand of guy.

The other pledges gather a sizable collection of embarrassing and personal photos of each active member, and everyone meets at the library on the morning of the prank. Beomgyu has to distract the librarian while they print dick pic after dick pic, getting a lot of weird looks from students who are just trying to print their research papers and pre-labs. 

College students should be less judgmental and mind their business, like the sex store workers who don’t bat an eye when Jake and Taehyun buy multiple gallons of lube. 

As expected, Yeonjun’s window is cracked open when they get to the house, an easy break-in. Jake discovers that Yeonjun’s plants are a small weed farm and judges the man even more for never closing his window. 

It’s easy work to stick the photos everywhere they can reach, climbing furniture to hang them from the rafters and opening cabinets to glue them on cereal boxes. The terracotta flooring is perfect for their plan, too, so slippery when coated in lube that they have to crawl to the nearest pieces of furniture when they’re done. And that’s where they stay, awaiting their victims’ arrival with phones ready to record. 

Jake unfortunately chooses a coffee table, meaning his ass hurts by the time headlights start flashing through the windows and car doors start opening and shutting. 

He can’t help the giggle that bubbles up when a key is jammed into the front door and it glides open. 

Revealed in the porch light is a swaying Yeonjun with a near-empty bottle of Cîroc in his hand. He looks around, bleary and confused, lips drooping into his signature drunken pout. “What the hell are you cunts doing here?” Then he notices the photos, especially one of his nudes glued to the wall—the one with a crusty pile of dirty clothes in the background—and his eyes widen. “Hey, what the fuck?” He goes to stomp toward the picture but his feet slip from under him and he bites the tile with a groan. The Cîroc rolls across the floor as he just lies there, giving up on life. 

The pledges howl with laughter, kicking their feet and clutching their stomachs. 

Holy shit, Jake is a genius. 

Wooyoung pops his head in next. “The fuck? Yeonjun passed out already?” He goes to help Yeonjun up and meets the same fate, slipping like a cartoon character and landing on his ass. “Oh my god, you fuckers. You’re all dead.” 

What ensues next is utter chaos, slippery, drunk frat bros attempting to tear the photos down and strangle the pledges, someone eating shit every five seconds, Yeonjun taking a slow, tortuous journey up the stairs like a miserable, inebriated slug, dudes dogpiling from trying to help each other up, pledges in pain from laughing so hard. 

Jake ends up standing on the table, using a TV remote to threaten frat bros who try to tackle him into the floor. He’s not very intimidating since he can’t stop smiling and cackling, but that doesn’t matter because a simple nudge sends them stumbling to the floor. 

He’s kicking at a struggling Jay’s head, arm reared back and ready to swing the remote when finally, Heeseung arrives. 

Jake doesn’t expect him to come running to his doom, but that’s fine, this is enough for him; he gets to see the look on Heeseung’s face when he takes in the chaos his house and his brothers have fallen into, the brows furrowed in agitation, the fire burning behind his eyes. 

Heeseung lingers at the doorway, arms crossed and jaw set, and it reminds Jake of Regina George standing at the head of the hallway while the Burn Book fallout ravages the school. 

Jake finally did it. He really got under Heeseung’s skin. He dared to do what no one else would. He’s a legend. 

Heeseung rolls his eyes, reaches for something out of view and, wait—how does he have a megaphone again? Jake literally ran the other one over with Jungwon’s car yesterday. 

“Listen the fuck up,” he grits out. “I want this shit gone by tomorrow morning. I want this house fucking spotless, and believe me, if it’s not I will gut every one of you bastards with a fork.” 

Oh. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Fun, yes. But Jake has just created a problem for literally everyone. 

He really doesn’t want to figure out the logistics of cleaning lube off the floor—

“And Jake,” Heeseung seethes. Oh. Fuck. The TV remote clatters to the floor. “Get your ass over here. Now.” 

Suddenly, cleaning lube off of the floor seems like a really good fun time. 

Jake looks at the ground, then at Heeseung. “But—” 

“I said now.” 

The fight in Jake drains quickly, the unwavering dominance in Heeseung’s tone overcoming him. He gulps, already starting to tremble, and climbs down from the table. His crawl toward Heeseung is dehumanizing, slow and clumsy, wetting his jeans and getting him all sticky with lube. He has to keep his eyes cast toward the floor because his power trip was cut off so abruptly, because he’s approaching Heeseung like a guilty dog, ears drooping and tail tucked between his legs. 

As soon as he’s in arms’ reach, Heeseung snatches a handful of Jake’s hair and yanks him out of the doorway, eliciting a sharp yelp as Jake stumbles out onto the porch. He isn’t even allowed to get to his feet before Heeseung is scooping him up and tossing him over his shoulder, a familiar action that feels far more terrifying this time, Heeseung’s fingers curled into the back of his thigh like the claws of a ferocious predator, his steps far less careful, jostling Jake around so much that he thinks he’ll fall despite the firm grip Heeseung has on him. 

Goodbye, cruel world. Heeseung is most definitely carrying Jake to his death. He’s gonna bring him to the backyard and chop him into pieces and make him into a protein shake and use his daddy’s money to get away with it. What a terrible way to go. 

Jake whimpers as his hips dig painfully into Heeseung’s firm shoulder, clutching at the back of Heeseung’s shirt like it’ll give him any leverage. “It’s—it’s just a prank,” he splutters, feet kicking in the air. 

Heeseung barks out a cold laugh and drops Jake to his feet. 

They’re at the back of the house now, standing at a sliding door and Jake assumes it leads into Heeseung’s bedroom. He startles when Heeseung literally kicks the fucking door in without a problem, busting it off of its track and forcing it out of his way with one arm. The squeal of metal against metal grates on Jake’s eardrums. Lord help him, he really messed up if Heeseung’s is willing to break his own door just to set him straight. 

A careless fist clutches Jake’s hair a second time and he’s dragged inside, nearly falling into the floor, and slammed up against the nearest wall hard enough to leave a dent. A picture frame even falls to the ground with a resonant clatter. 

Jake winces, heart pounding as Heeseung closes in on him. 

It’s all too much, the heat of Heeseung’s body scorching Jake to his core, the potent, dark smell of him branding itself into Jake’s lungs, the sharpness of his glare piercing through Jake’s skin, his flesh and his blood and his bones. It shouldn’t be so scary in the face of a man, no, a boy like this; Heeseung is still boyish, his dusty blond hair tactless where it falls in frizzy waves against his forehead, eyes and nose still big on his face like he has yet to grow into them, cute ears decorated up and down with metal studs. Fresh after an away game and probably an after party, he’s wearing a flannel over a tank top, jeans with too many rips in them, a heavy-looking chain around his neck. He’s just some guy, really, but the way he holds himself is so intimidating that Jake’s knees instantly grow weak, his body begging to give in. 

“You’re a fucking problem,” Heeseung mutters, slipping his hand down to Jake’s chin and holding it so firmly that it might shatter in his palm. “I hate bitches like you. Puny, needy little bitches who like to act up. Pisses me off,” the last three words come out between gritted teeth. He pulls Jake’s head forward just to slam it against the wall again, a sharp whimper ringing through the room, lowering into a groan when Heeseung forces a knee between Jake’s legs and his muscular thigh digs into Jake’s crotch. 

Jake is sure he looks terrified. His lip is trembling, eyes pleading and wet. Heeseung is the one he’s scared of but he finds himself seeking protection from the very thing that threatens him, hands curling around the soft fabric of Heeseung’s flannel, body slumping to make himself smaller, to present himself as exactly what he is: something delicate, something helpless. It’s a habit. He’s used to getting away with things by acting like this. “Sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry.” 

“Is that all you know how to say?” Heeseung demands. “I don’t care if you’re fucking sorry, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re pathetic. You wanna act like you know everything, but you don’t know shit, gonna get your ass beat one of these days. You’re just dirt stupid. Don’t even know yourself, how you deny what a cockslut you are.” To drive his point in, he presses his thigh up harder into Jake’s crotch, a forceful, muscular intrusion between Jake’s legs that has him lifting a thigh against Heeseung’s hip to make room for it, sucking in a deep gasp. 

“That’s not true,” Jake mumbles, voice wavering. He denies it yet again but his hips betray him, minutely shifting up and down Heeseung’s thigh. He can’t even control his gaze, letting it catch on Heeseung’s lips, on his mean smirk that must feel so good to taste, probably burns like alcohol and delights like sugar. But he can’t give in. It’s not worth it. “I’m not a cockslut, especially not for you.” 

Heeseung clicks his tongue against his teeth, dragging his hand down a little father, enough to press into Jake’s windpipe, to strangle Jake’s whimper. “There’s no point talking to you, is there? You’re just a dumb slut. I’ll have to fuck the sense into you.” The words go straight to Jake’s dick, hard and throbbing where it’s trapped against Heeseung’s thigh. “God, Jake, you can’t even stop looking at my mouth. What, you wanna kiss me? Does the dirty whore want a kiss?” 

This isn’t how things are supposed to be. Jake is above Heeseung. He dresses better, he’s smarter, he’s more likable. Heeseung is just some gross, cocky asshole with anger issues and a trust fund but… Jake craves him. He craves strong hands against his skin, the heat of Heeseung’s unwavering attention, the violating, objectifying treatment that makes his insides twist into knots. He wants Heeseung to want him. He wants Heeseung to have him. 

And he wants Heeseung to kiss him; big, striking teeth to tear into his sanity, weathered pink lips and a ruthless tongue to sate the burning need sizzling under his skin. 

Jake pants, squirming against the wall and tugging Heeseung closer by the flannel. “Yeah…” 

“Yeah, what?” Heeseung looks down at Jake’s mouth, letting up on his throat to drag his thick, rough thumb along his lower lip and dip it inside, pressing against his teeth. “Think you deserve a kiss?” 

Jake nods. He’d try to employ his signature puppy eyes but they’re already there, pupils big and shiny, lashes fluttering. 

Heeseung laughs right in Jake’s face, laced with White Claw and venom. “Keep dreaming. I’m not gonna kiss your slutty mouth—I just know you’re not clean there, the way you sucked my cock. You slobber like a fucking dog, you know that?” His thumb slips farther into Jake’s mouth, toying with his tongue. “You have whore lips, always puffed up and wet like you suck dick every morning.” 

Jake feels tears prick behind his eyes. This is degrading. He’s always been confident in his lips, he’s always thought they were pretty and irresistible, but all of that confidence is ripped away from him and he doesn’t even get to have Heeseung’s mouth; he has to settle for the taste of his skin, salty with sweat and bitter with hand soap. At least Heeseung washes his hands… Well, even if he didn’t, Jake would probably still suck his thumb deeper and curl his tongue around it, showing Heeseung that he can be good, his mouth can be good. 

Heeseung is right about the slobber thing, though, and drool is already starting to wet the corners of Jake’s lips, smearing down his chin and dripping down Heeseung’s palm. 

There’s a rumble low in Heeseung’s chest, somewhere between a growl and a purr as he shoves his thumb so deep that his nail scrapes against Jake’s soft palate, an embarrassing gag spasming against the intrusion. “Your gag reflex is shit. Fuck are you even good for?” 

Jake whimpers in response, pressing his hips up, seeking more friction against Heeseung’s thigh. The way his body reacts to all the degradation is ungodly. His skin is hot to the touch, tacky with sweat and he feels like he’ll explode with all the heat if he doesn’t squirm around, burning it off by writhing in Heeseung’s hold and releasing whiny little huffs. 

Heeseung clicks his tongue, withdrawing his thumb so he can grab Jake by the hips and pin him against the wall, his hands almost completely wrapped around Jake’s tiny waist. He’s so big in every way, towering over Jake and drowning him in his menacing shadow. “If you don’t stop moving so goddamn much I’m gonna have to knock you out.” 

Jake’s stomach dips under Heeseung’s palms. “No, please—”

“Then stay the fuck still.” 

But Jake can’t. He can’t contain himself, the excitement and fear bubbling over. It’s impossible not to seek Heeseung with his hips when his grasp retreats, not to get all jumpy when Heeseung’s nails drag under his shirt and dig into his bare waist, not to lose his shit when Heeseung rucks his shirt up to play with his nipples, firm, careless flicking and pinching and twisting. 

“Ah, fuck,” Jake moans, gripping Heeseung’s biceps and sinking against the wall, hips pressing into Heeseung’s and chest preening as his back curls into a pretty arch. 

Heeseung drags a hand down Jake’s body, thumbing over his ribs, feeling the dip of his waist, gripping his ass before smacking the fuck out of it. It sounds like a textbook hitting the floor, the thick denim of Jake’s jeans hardly serving as a buffer to the bruising sting of the blow. 

A choked gasp catches in Jake’s throat, his face contorting in pain as Heeseung grabs and kneads the aching flesh. 

“You can’t listen, can you?” Heeseung mutters, nose brushing against the shell of Jake’s ear, breath warm and heavy against his jaw. “Can’t do shit, I’m gonna have to use you like a fleshlight.” His teeth scrape over Jake’s skin, threatening. “Get on the fucking bed.”

✧

Jake may have hit rock bottom. 

It’s not a proud moment, on all fours at the end of a frat guy’s bed, which definitely hasn’t had clean sheets since the beginning of the semester; they smell like cologne and skin and sweat, a little bit like weed, too, and somehow Jake is even more turned on by it, mouth watering at the potency of Heeseung’s pheromones, gut twisting at the thought of how many people Heeseung must’ve banged right here.

This isn’t the right moment to worry about dirty sheets, anyway. Jake isn’t exactly a clean vision, with a thick sheen of sweat making his skin gleam, with lube gliding down his thighs as Heeseung drives three fingers into his needy hole, with his ass in the air and balls hanging heavy between his legs, and dick rock-hard, leaking precum. He’s completely exposed and vulnerable, and Heeseung is still fully dressed. 

“It’s a shame you’re such a tool,” Heeseung comments, digging his fingertips into Jake’s prostate just to watch him squirm and whine. “Such a sexy body but nothing going on in that head.” 

Jake bites his tongue. He doesn’t even want to snap back anymore, too far gone to think of anything clever and too scared that Heeseung will stop fingering him if he says something he doesn’t like. Heeseung’s touch is everything he needs right now, knuckles dragging crudely against his wet rim, firm grasp reining him in by the hip every time he flinches away at a particularly toe-curling thrust, the fabric of his jeans brushing against the backs of Jake’s sensitive thighs. 

“I’m doing you a favor, you know. You’re lucky I’m even fucking you.” Heeseung’s icy tone is sharpened by the sound of clinking metal, a zipper being undone, fabric shuffling. The fullness of his fingers is withdrawn with a loud, filthy suction noise, like Jake’s hole was vacuumed around the intrusion. “But someone has to show you what you’re good for.” 

There’s a thick, hot sensation against Jake’s rim, a teasing nudge and a tantalizing friction between his cheeks—Heeseung’s cock. Oh, fuck. Oh, shit—seriously, oh shit. No condom?! Unless Heeseung was already wearing one under his clothes… Hell no. That would be so fucking dorky. There’s a split second where Jake thinks about all of the diseases in his future, but the moment Heeseung’s hand wraps around the back of his neck and shoves his face into those greasy, crumb-riddled sheets, all responsibility is flung out the window, nothing left behind but pure carnal desire. 

“Please,” Jake begs, voice muffled by the mattress. “Fuck me. Give it to me.” 

Heeseung laughs breathily, tangling his hand into Jake’s hair and pressing down hard enough for a bruising pain to bloom through Jake’s nose. 

Jake fears he’s being murdered. He can’t breathe. At all. His lungs burn as he writhes and grunts, tugging at Heeseung’s wrist and smacking the bed as if he’s tapping out of a wrestling match. And despite all the movement, Heeseung’s cock manages to catch on his rim and shove inside, hardly slick enough to push through but just assertive enough to continue forcing its way inside Jake’s body.

A rough cry claws at Jake’s throat. He’s overwhelmed with the stretch and the pain, so full he’s about to explode. He’s pretty sure he’s going to die but Heeseung finally releases his head in favor of steadying his hips, reeling his ass in to ram the rest of his cock deep inside. 

A sob bursts through Jake as soon as his head turns to seek air, spit flying out of his mouth, face a tormented red shimmering with tears. 

Heeseung had looked big and been heavy in his mouth but Jake didn’t think he would feel like this, so thick that he stretches him out like a flimsy rubber band, so long that his cockhead lands somewhere right under his gasping lungs. 

Jake can’t even move. He can’t even pull away because it feels like Heeseung is officially a part of him, like he might as well just rip one of his own limbs off. “Too. Big,” he pants. “Can’t take it— I can’t— ohh my fucking god.” 

Everything escalates far too quickly for Jake to compute it. Heeseung’s thrusts are shallow to start with but fast and rough, knocking the air out of Jake with each press in, dragging the sense from him with each pull out. Over the commotion of Jake’s high-pitched whimpers and painful gasps, the bedframe squeaking, Heeseung’s belt jangling because the animal was too fucking impatient to take his pants off all the way, Heeseung purrs, “mmh, see, ‘course you can take it. It’s what you’re made for.” He grabs a handful of Jake’s ass and squeezes it bruisingly as he fucks him. “I gotta give it to you, your ass is so good around my cock. So tight for a slut. Tell me how it feels for you. Feel good? Feel right?” 

“Yes,” Jake chokes out, without even turning the question over in his head. “Yes, ah. So— guh— good! Yes, yes yesyesyes, don’t stop!!” 

“Oh, puppy. I’ve hardly even started.” As if to drive the point home, Heeseung draws himself out until the crown of his dick tugs at Jake’s rim, then slams his hips forward hard enough for the empty Red Bulls and Bud Lights on his nightstand to topple like bowling pins, for another picture to fall off the wall, for Jake’s responding wail to rattle the windows. Then he does it again, and again, and god damn—Heeseung is a monster, a ferocious beast, a demonic force like no other, a meathead frat guy who happens to be so fucking good at pummeling Jake’s insides. 

It’s a shock, a pounding so invasive that Jake feels like he can’t even call his body his own anymore. He’s completely gone, eyelids drooping and tongue limp between his lips and drool sliding from his mouth, offering a glistening puddle of saliva to the monstrosity that is Heeseung’s bedsheet. 

Heeseung chuckles through his heavy, crazed huffs, reaching forward to grasp Jake’s wrists and tug them behind his back with enough strength to have him suspended over the bed, shoulders aching, back arched deeper than he thought possible, head dangling uselessly. The only parts of Jake touching the bed now are his knees and a thick, bubbly strand of spit clinging to his bottom lip. 

“You’re really like a fuckdoll,” Heeseung marvels. His thrusts stop—Jake hardly has the energy to cry about it, just taking whatever Heeseung is willing to give, no less, no more—and he lodges his cock even deeper into Jake’s ass, his balls dragging against his taint and coarse hairs tickling his asscrack, Jake’s rim stretched to its limit around the thick base. Jake can feel it all; he can feel where Heeseung’s cockhead shifts inside him, the way bubbles of air and lube slink through the tight seal of his soft walls against Heeseung’s veiny dick, the way Heeseung throbs and twitches against his prostate—his cock a hungry monster of its own. 

Jake lets out a deep, throaty moan, uncaring of how raspy and fucked-out it sounds. He’s so limp and flimsy—truly a fuckdoll—that he slumps forward, face crashing into the bed as soon as Heeseung lets go of his arms. 

“You poor little thing,” Heeseung says, but there’s no sympathy in it, only condescension. 

Jake whimpers like a proper dog, wiggling his hips and trying to fuck himself back on Heeseung’s dick. “Please. More, more.” 

“Oh? More? You really are a cockslut.” 

“Heeseung,” Jake breathes. 

“Say it. Say you’re a slut. Tell me how much you like taking my cock.” 

It’s shameful how easily Jake complies, how good and pliant he is once he gets his ass stuffed nice and full; the truth rolls off his tongue like honey, sweet and sticky against the roof of his mouth. “Mmh, I’m a slut. You fuck me so good, so hard and good,” he rambles on, “I love your cock, Heeseung. So big and deep. I love it, I love it, I love it!! ♡” 

“That’s it,” Heeseung rumbles. “That’s a good boy.” He leans forward, reminding Jake with the soft fabric sticking to his sweaty back and denim rubbing against his thighs that he’s laid completely bare for him, and slides his hand across Jake’s collarbones, grips his shoulder, manhandles him until he’s straight up on his knees—well, kind of; his back is still arched to keep Heeseung’s cock inside—and he can feel Heeseung’s eager breath fanning against his nape. 

Jake’s lips fall open around a weak moan, leaking more drool down his chin as Heeseung’s tip pushes right against his abdomen. 

“Feel that?” Heeseung whispers into his ear, lips wet and hot against the shell. He draws his hips back and fucks into Jake slowly, letting the head of his cock grind right into his prostate. 

Jake shudders in Heeseung’s hold, thighs trembling at the searing pleasure. “Fuck.” 

“That’s the spot, huh?” 

“Yes, o-oh my god.” 

Heeseung grins—Jake can feel it, teeth pressing against his ear and goosebumps erupting down his nape—and slides his arm around Jake’s neck, hooking his elbow against it to keep him held up, his other hand going to steady him by the hip bone. 

Jake’s hands, which have been useless this entire time, come up to clutch at Heeseung’s forearm, fingernails digging crescents into the skin. 

It’s not enough to brace him for what’s to come; Heeseung abruptly sets a brutal pace with his hips, his loose belt buckle abusing the back of Jake’s thigh, strong arm flexing against Jake’s throat. The unmistakable sounds of Heeseung’s wet balls smacking against Jake’s taint and Jake’s rim squelching around Heeseung’s cock echo through the room, almost competing with Jake’s screeching wails and moans. Never did Jake think that sex could be this all-consuming, every thrust knocking any semblance of a thought he might’ve had out of his head, his body absolutely alight with pure, filthy, toe-curling pleasure as Heeseung’s cock abuses his prostate, wave after wave of electricity crashing through his body, deep, boiling pressure building like magma within his core. It’s so good that it hurts. 

Jake’s vision goes white, he’s sure, blown pupils rolling back into his fluttering eyelids, tongue falling out of his mouth like a dog’s, knuckles going white as he holds on to Heeseung for dear life. It sounds like he’s in heat; “ah, ah, ah! Too, mm, ah— mu-uuch. Too— ahh fu-u-uck.” 

“Yeah?” Heeseung groans, somehow fucking harder with each of Jake’s pornographic emissions. “You fucking like that? Gonna come?” 

Is— is he? Jake’s cock is neglected, flushing a tortured red at the tip, smacking against his stomach, leaking precum that drips onto the sheets. There’s no way he’s about to come just from having his ass pounded, from having his ass pounded so good that he can hardly breathe, eyes rolling around in his skull, drool smeared all over Heeseung’s forearm. That every ounce of his blood sings with white-hot euphoria. There’s no way he’s— 

He’s coming. His pleasure peaks, ravaging his body, spilling all the way to his toes and burning over his tongue. He trembles violently as Heeseung fucks him through his high. His muscles spasm and his hole clenches and a sad dribble of cum rolls down his dick. 

“Fuck,” Heeseung hisses. “Yeah, good boy, come on my cock. So fucking tight—”  

Jake nearly blacks out. His neck goes limp, cheek sticking to Heeseung’s forearm with sweat and drool and probably snot. The pleasure ebbs out of his bloodstream and focuses itself around Heeseung’s cock, his walls still spasming and pulsating against it, prostate still relentlessly violated. Jake is still hard but the pleasure hurts, it really hurts because it’s so sharp and intense, making his body jolt in Heeseung’s hold like he’s struck with lightning with each thrust. “Hee,” he cries, drawing blood with his nails, scratching them down Heeseung’s forearm. “Hee!” 

Heeseung actually shows mercy for the first time since—well, since Jake first started rushing ENu. He pulls his cock out with a nasty, wet pop, leaving Jake’s hole gaping wide and fluttering, then lets him go and rolls him over. 

Jake’s thighs are so weak that they just fall open around Heeseung. He probably looks like hell, hair all frizzy and stuck to his forehead, lips swollen and bright red, bruises blooming over his skin in multiple places, chest heaving, eyes teary as they look up through wet, clumped lashes. 

Heeseung actually doesn’t look much better; his lip is bitten raw, his fringe is licked up from his sweaty forehead, every visible inch of his skin is flushed. His eyes are crazed as he stares down at Jake’s wrecked body, nostrils flaring with the force of his breathing. He works his hand over his cock with mouthwatering fervor until his movements stutter and he tosses his head back with an uncharacteristic, syrupy moan. Thick, hot ropes of cum fly out onto Jake’s abs, dirtying him, claiming him. 

Heeseung looks down his nose as the last spurt lands Jake’s thigh, licks his lips as he takes in the mess he created. 

Jake is ruined, truly. His entire brain chemistry is rewired—it must be, because instead of thinking about how revolting Heeseung is, what he can do to get a leg up on him, he’s thinking about how he can get Heeseung to fuck him again. 

With the way Heeseung’s eyes glint as he enjoys the view, it might not be too far-fetched. 

✧

The aftercare is… just what you would expect from a frat guy. 

There’s a shower, sure, and Heeseung has to hold Jake up the entire time, but as soon as Jake is thrown into one of Heeseung’s t-shirts and handed a glass of water, Heeseung crawls into bed and passes out. Snoring and everything. Like, seriously?  

Jake rolls his eyes, dumps his water out on Heeseung’s head, and slips into the hallway. 

Literally, he slips. And busts his ass. He forgot about the lube. 

Chapter Text

Jake might’ve literally gotten some of his brains fucked out. 

He’s looking, really looking at one of those embarrassing mirror pics they’d printed out of Heeseung, the copy paper crinkling under his fingers as he squints at each detail, at the way Heeseung grips his dick like it’s a weapon, at the way his jaw is obviously clenched to give his neck some extra definition, at the house fly on the wall in the background, and he doesn’t feel disgusted. He feels weird. His chest hurts and his hands are shaky and his cheeks are uncomfortably warm. Oh god—Heeseung must’ve given him hepatitis. 

And despite everything—despite the many things that should have him on a flight back to Australia right now—Jake feels a pull toward Heeseung. He wants to dive back into Heeseung’s bed and sniff and lick all over him like a dog. He wants Heeseung’s masculine scent and his reckless touch and his harsh, spine-chilling words. And that fluttery, satisfying feeling he instills every time he calls Jake a good boy. 

Jake giggles at the thought, clutches the atrocious photo to his chest, and rolls onto his back with pupils full of hearts, like a teenage girl with a journal scribbled through with heart doodles and H + J and Jake Lee in multiple colors and fonts. 

It’s been hours since the pounding of his life, enough time for the rest of the pledges to clean their mess up entirely, and he still can’t get a grip. 

“Tyun, should we take him to the hospital?” Beomgyu whispers. “He’s acting weird… what if he’s concussed?” 

“He always acts weird,” Taehyun mutters. “He’s fine.” 

Beomgyu’s face hovers into Jake’s line of sight, lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t know. Didn’t you hear the way he was screaming?” 

“Unfortunately.” 

Jake rolls his eyes, but there’s still a smile on his face. Oh, he’s gone gone. The old Jake is dead. The new Jake is even more disgusting than the old Jake. “Guys, he didn’t beat me up,” he admits, sitting up and nearly head-butting Beomgyu; he has less spatial awareness than before—must be a symptom of the hepatitis. “Well, not really. We just had sex.” 

Beomgyu pretends to gag, slapping a hand over his mouth and clutching his stomach. “Ew! So you’re telling me we cleaned up the mess you created while you had Heeseung in your guts? What the fuck?” 

“Count your blessings,” Taehyun sighs. “At least they got a room this time.” 

✧

Monday is completely devoid of Heeseung, and Jake doesn’t know how he feels about it. 

If he was normal, he’d be relieved that he doesn’t have to deal with the humiliation and pain that comes with Heeseung’s presence. But he’s not normal. He’s dickmatized. 

He doesn’t jot any notes down during his classes, nor does he know what’s going on at all because the graph of function f(h)=j/h just looks like Jake’s downfall, and the slope of his downfall is Heeseung’s dick—what the fuck is an integral? Jake is usually exceptional at math. This is so backwards. 

His struggle is so obvious that his calculus professor, Professor Yoon, ends up pulling him aside after class—the guy isn’t as hot as the English comp professor, but he’s a good runner-up, tall with a nice hairstyle but way too old for Jake’s taste—and asking him if everything is alright. 

“Your first two exam scores were perfect, so what happened here?” he asks, holding up Jake’s last exam, a miserable packet covered in strikes of red and a big, ugly thirty-two circled at the top. If you look closely enough, you can see a stain from Jake’s sweat. 

Jake grimaces, taking the exam and flipping through it, like he even knows what he’s looking at. “I don’t know, I guess I was a little distracted. I swear I’ll study harder for the next exam.” 

The professor nods, but his eyes are narrowed, aimed through his glasses. He’s definitely seen cases like Jake’s before, and with that look, he might as well convince Jake to give up and drop out now. “You have potential, Jake. Don’t let it go to waste.” He stops to consider his next words, shifting his tie and looking somewhere behind Jake’s head. “Hey, you’re friends with Kim Sunoo, right?” 

“Uh, yeah, we hang out sometimes. Why?” 

“He’s a good student. You should ask him to help you out a little. I’m sure he’d be happy to.” 

That checks out. There Sunoo goes again being perfect and hardworking and smart. And the proud son of the school, literally. His dad owns Decelis, along with its associated research centers and office buildings. 

“Okay…” Jake agrees, backing toward the door. He has an appointment at the sexual health clinic to attend to, he can’t be held up. “Have a good day, then.” 

The rest of the day drags by. The clinic takes forever to bring him in, the lines at the dining hall are long because it’s campus tour day for prospective students, and he has to bullshit assignments he hardly understands for what feels like hours. He’s finally allowed to sleep in his own bed, ENu having set the pledges free, yet he can’t stop tossing and turning all night because the mattress is actually too soft in comparison to what he’s grown used to, the room too quiet without Beomgyu’s snores in his ear and Taehyun randomly sleep-punching him in the side.

And because he knows that Heeseung won’t be dragging him out of bed in the morning. 

✧

Jake doesn’t even bother to show up to his classes the next day. His priorities lie somewhere else, somewhere in Heeseung’s pants. 

The Epsilon Nu guys plan on hanging out at the beach, so Jake feels the need to prepare himself. He sleeps in to combat the eye-bags, gets a mani-pedi, shaves and exfoliates every inch of his body, and trains his gag reflex on a dildo until his jaw hurts and his lips are raw, which then calls for a lip scrub and a lip mask and his favorite lip gloss—the caramel flavored one. Maybe he’s doing a lot for a guy who uses two-in-one shampoo—confirmed, Jake saw it for himself—but he likes feeling pretty and attractive in general, with everyone he sleeps with… in theory. 

Just let Jake be delusional! He’s a dirty, horny slut. He likes dick and he’ll do pretty much anything for it. At least he can accept that now.

There’s no reason to hold back. 

So, Jake pulls on his skimpiest pair of shorts, slathers himself in an alluring, summery lotion that makes his skin look and feel perfectly smooth, and only fastens one button on his shirt. 

It’s good that when Jay says “small gathering” he means sizable party; it’s an excuse for Jake to do himself up for the beach without looking as desperate as he is. 

The party is already in action by the time Jake hops out of Jungwon’s car, rubber sandals grinding against the gravel and carefully styled fringe instantly whipped away from his forehead. There are tight clusters of people scattered around, chatting and drinking, straggling couples having their moments along the shore, some people crazy enough to swim and play in the aggressive chop of the water. There’s music thumping against someone’s tailgate, multiple coolers in random places, sandals lining the sidewalk. 

Jungwon peels off to look for Jay as soon as their toes dig into the warm, dry sand, and Jake gravitates toward the nearest cooler for a drink. He doesn’t even recognize the cans but takes one anyway, pops it open and takes a swig. It tastes like carbonated, rotten fruit and hand sanitizer. Whatever, he’s not here for the drinks. 

He doesn’t want to look like he’s looking for Heeseung, though, so he casually floats around, first finding a volleyball match and cheering Sunoo on, hollering and whistling every time Sunoo nails someone in the head with the ball, then finding another cooler with an even more disappointing drink—beer, he hates beer—and following a random upperclassman who notices his pout and offers a better selection. 

“You’re, like, stunning, by the way,” the guy says, ogling Jake’s body shamelessly.

“Oh. Thanks…” Jake likes compliments. He does. He always has. But praise is starting to lose its flavor. He wishes the guy would say that he looks like a whore, that he should pull his shorts out of his asscrack, that his lips look like they belong around a cock. He wishes the guy was Heeseung. 

So, when he’s brought to the cooler with the good drinks, with White Claws and twisted iced teas, he frowns and says, “I think I lost my keys in the sand, could you go look for them?” There are no keys to be found, but it works, and the guy is gone. 

“There you are.” That’s Soobin—Jake can tell by not only his voice but the massive, slender hand landing on his shoulder—and he smells like sunscreen and alcohol, like it was spilled on him. 

Jake looks up at him to bat his lashes in confusion. “You were looking for me?” 

“Well, you never miss a party. So I was wondering when I’d see you.” 

“Oh. Yup, here I am.” 

Soobin smiles big, cheeks squishing into his eyes to make room for his dimples, and in the burning orange glow of the setting sun, he actually looks friendly. He looks like he isn’t the type to haze people on his own accord—like Heeseung pulls his strings and he’s just along for the ride. “Hey,” he whispers, leaning into Jake’s space and fanning the spice of bourbon into his ear. “Yeon’s got some edibles. Wanna join us?” 

Full transparency, Jake has never done any form of drug. Never smoked, never had an edible, got hotboxed before but only for two minutes. But weed seems approachable enough, so he’ll bite. Besides, where Soobin and Yeonjun are, Heeseung might be. “Hell yeah, I wanna join.” 

Soobin carries Jake on his back after some drunken convincing, uncaring of the twisted tea that spills down his front every time his sandals catch on a twig or a rock, and Jake can see how he ended up smelling the way he smells. It’s endearing. Soobin is sweet and fun and clumsy when he’s drunk, like a big dog who thinks he’s tiny. He’s probably the type of guy that Jake should feel butterflies over. If only that was the case. 

Unfortunately, those butterflies don’t start batting their wings up his throat until Soobin lets him down and he finally catches a glimpse of Heeseung. 

Jake almost chokes on his own spit for two reasons. 

First, Heeseung somehow looks more gorgeous than usual. He’s just in board shorts and a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off but he looks like he belongs on a magazine cover, hair styled endearingly, curled into waves by the saltwater and swept into a fluffy mess by the wind, skin kissed by sun and ocean, eyes soft and rich like dark chocolate in their relaxed state. 

Second, Heeseung has a new toy on his thigh—it’s Sunghoon, sitting there like a lapdog, a pretty little trophy, with Heeseung’s hand steadied on his waist. 

Jake feels violently feverish with jealousy. He feels a lot like one of those empty cans on the ground, dirty and used up, useless. He kicks one. God, he’s so stupid for thinking that anything could go his way. What was he even expecting? Heeseung is obviously the type to hit it and quit it. He’s done with Jake. He’s had his fun. 

“So, where are those edibles?” Jake mutters. 

✧

Whatever. Jake doesn’t even need Heeseung to help him feel. He can feel things just fine, every grain of sand stuck to his thighs, every strand of hair toyed with by the wind, every breath filling his lungs. 

He’s free now. No more Heeseung to fuck up his life. Life is great. 

He giggles into Soobin’s arm, toes kissed by the ocean, tongue feather-light. 

Soobin is swaying but attempts to steady Jake nonetheless. The giggles continue as they fall boneless into the sand, legs tangled and sparkling eyes aimed at the stars. Soobin still smells like alcohol but he smells like dryer sheets and summer too, clean and soft, fresh and gentle, calming notes under salt and spice. 

“Heeseung is so wrong,” he whispers, voice almost washed away by the waves. 

The stars give way to Soobin’s kind gaze, to dimpled cheeks, to fluffy blond hair rendered a glowing silver in the moonlight. 

Jake laughs again. “What?” 

One of Soobin’s fingers brush against his lips, gritty and sticky with sand and orange soda. “You look prettier when you’re smiling. Y’know that?” 

“Aren’t I pretty always?” 

“Oh. Always!” Soobin agrees, eyes wide and sincere. “I like this Jake better, though.” 

Jake’s neck rolls like taffy, stars falling into his vision, sand shifting under his head. “High Jake?” 

“No. Happy Jake.” 

Jake hums. 

Soobin huffs, his long fingers guiding Jake to face him again. His eyes are hooded but serious—as serious as they can be after a 50 milligram sour gummy and god knows how much alcohol. “I know you like Heeseung—” 

“Whaaat.” How much more obvious can it be that Jake hates Heeseung’s guts? Why else would he steal Heeseung’s t-shirt? And stick that mirror pic to the corkboard in his room to throw darts at? He just has yet to acquire the darts. 

Soobin rolls his eyes and it makes Jake dizzy. “Don’t think you’re subtle. Everyone knows.” 

“No. I hate him,” Jake grumbles. 

“Uh huh.” Soobin pulls Jake closer, long limbs reeling him in like squid tentacles. “Don’t tell him I said this, but he’s just going to use you.” 

Jake’s heart shouldn’t flutter at a promise like that. At the promise of being used. 

Soobin must notice the look in his eyes, because he huffs out an exasperated laugh, bonking his forehead against Jake’s. “You’re better than him. He’s just a stupid manwhore so he doesn’t have to deal with his stupid man feelings.” 

Jake blinks rapidly. “He has those?” 

“Feelings?” 

“Yeah.” 

“He would be more tolerable if he didn’t,” Soobin says. 

Jake’s mind is too smooth and slippery to grasp anything right now; the concept of Heeseung having actual human emotions is especially difficult. He just knows that he wants to feel the same way he felt when Heeseung fucked him, and Soobin has really big hands— “strangle me,” he blurts out. 

Soobin snorts. “You’re weird. Cute. But weird.” 

Jake whines and buries his face in Soobin’s chest, kicking his feet in an ineffective tantrum that just gets wet sand all over his calves. 

Soobin does not strangle him. Unfortunately. 

✧

The rest of the week is nothing special. Jake struggles to catch up on his classes, starts getting some good sleep only because he jacks off before bed, acts bitchier toward Sunghoon than usual to let his anger out, and gets his test results back from the clinic. 

He’s clean! STD free—which just makes him more eager to sleep with Heeseung again. Without a condom. Again. As if Heeseung even acknowledges his existence anymore. As if Heeseung hasn’t probably collected fifteen diseases this week alone. 

There’s a party planned for Saturday night, because of course there is, and the theme is problematic in Jake’s opinion. Playboy mansion? Seriously? Gross. Unsurprising, but gross.

He’s gonna have to squeeze into a skimpy bunny outfit and serve drinks to formally dressed partygoers all night. 

Okay, maybe he likes dressing like a slut. He just doesn’t want to serve anyone who isn’t Heeseung—but looking at how the outfit hugs Jake’s figure in the mirror, how the shorts reveal just enough asscheek and the top suits the thin taper of his waist, black leathery fabric catching light in all the right places, maybe Heeseung will claim him for the night. Jake smiles at the thought although he knows he’s pathetic and delusional, continuing to entertain his own dickmatized fantasies. 

He drags his hands down his body, wishing they were Heeseung’s instead. His dignity is completely gone by now. He misses Heeseung. And he’s about to touch himself to the thought of him again when there’s a knock at the front door. He’s snatched out of his fantasy. Shame burns down his throat at the realization of how crazy he’s really gotten. 

He yanks the bunny ears off his head and trudges toward the door. It’s probably just Jungwon forgetting his key in the room again, but he looks through the peephole just in case it’s a murderer. And thank god he does, because the people at the door are very familiar. Literally. They’re his family. His parents, to be exact. 

He squeaks, panics for half a second, then sprints into his room, throws on the biggest shirt he can find—it’s Heeseung’s—and steps into a pair of sweats. “Just a second,” he calls, digging in the ass of his pants to unhook the stupid bunny tail from his shorts. When it finally gives, he throws it under his bed, along with the dildo and lube and fluffy handcuffs which had been chilling on his nightstand, and the nude of Heeseung which had been pinned to his corkboard.

He tries to level his breathing when he flings the door open, smiling like a crazy person. “Mom, dad! What are you doing here?” 

His dad gives him a sound pat on the shoulder and invites himself into the suite, trailed by his mom, who says, “do we need a reason to visit our son?” Yes. Yes, they do. They wouldn’t abandon their business obligations just to see Jake. Their first born son—Sim International Logistics—always takes precedent. 

“We’re on a business trip and decided to swing by,” his dad explains. Makes sense. They’re both dressed for that, his dad in a suit and his mom in a cocktail dress and heels that click against the hardwood floor, their hair products and mom’s Dior J’adore stinking up the dorm. 

Jake rolls his eyes as he shuts the door. “Good to see you,” he forces out. 

“Lovely place,” his mom comments. Thank fuck for Sunghoon and Jay obsessively tidying up the suite—Jay doesn’t even live here but he acts like a maid when he sleeps over with Jungwon. Without those two, the place would look like hell. “You look like hell, though.” Fuck. “Did you just roll out of bed, Jake?” 

Jake laughs it off, self-consciously sweeping at his hair. “Yeah, sorry. It’s nine AM on a Saturday. I am just a college boy.” 

His father shakes his head. “You know better than that, though. Daylight is valuable. Time is money.” 

Jake bites his tongue. Give him a break. They haven’t seen him for a month and the first thing they want to do is nag him. Not even an “I missed you.”

“Tidy up and put something presentable on,” his mom instructs. “We planned lunch with the Lees.” 

Jake wants to slam his head through the door. His luck is rotten. 

✧

Jake feels like he’s back at home again, but it’s not exactly comforting. The presence of his parents forces him to tap into his manners, and the pressure to perform weighs down on his perfect posture. Everything he does around his parents has to be a performance, movements gentle and calculated, words carefully chosen. 

They chose the most pretentious restaurant in the area. It’s some weird place with forty dollar imported teas and fifty dollar slabs of vegetarian meat, whatever that is. The tablecloths are organic. The lighting is purely natural, sunlight and candles. Everyone has to put their phones in a locker upon entry for a fully immersive dining experience. 

Jake might be an active participant in rich people shenanigans, but his parents take it the extra mile. Now he can’t even escape, damn it. His phone is held hostage. 

And it’s all so much worse with Heeseung across the fucking table. 

Jake has always been great with eye-contact, knowing just when to hold it and just when to relent, just how to mold his irises into something confident or welcoming or imploring, but he’s completely lost under Heeseung’s attention. If he doesn’t look at him at all, everyone will think it’s weird. If he looks at him too much, ogles the way his crisp white button-up brings out his smooth tanned skin, everyone will still think it’s weird. And it’s a one-way ticket to bonerville. So, instead of awkwardly looking around or drooling over Heeseung, Jake focuses on spreading cranberry jam over his third slice of coconut bread. 

If only his dad didn’t decide to force him into the conversation. “I bet ENu’s not the same as it was back in the nineties. They probably can’t get as crazy as we did.” He laughs, and Jake almost laughs too, because he can't imagine something crazier than what goes on in that house in the present. “Jake. How have you been liking it?” 

Jake forces a smile and places the butter knife down, although he’d really like to stab someone with it. “I love it. I’ve already made some great memories with the guys.” 

“I’m sure my boy wouldn’t have it another way,” says Mr. Lee, with a tone fit for a business meeting. 

Heeseung’s perfect teeth make an appearance, and Jake hasn’t seen him smile so kindly since the rush brunch. He’s invitingly beautiful in the warm flicker of the candlelight, deceivingly polite—just the man you’d want to bring home to your parents. “Oh, of course. And Jake is a pleasure. Outgoing, funny, enthusiastic.” He sounds sincere because Jake is all of those things. Damn him for that. Damn Jake’s heart for doing flips. “He’s very passionate about the environment, too. It’s amazing.” 

Jake almost kicks him in the shin. “You flatter me.” He bats his lashes, nudging the toe of Heeseung’s shoe with his own. “Mr. Lee, you’ve raised such a charmer.” 

“That’s what they say.” Mr. Lee shrugs. “Now, if only he’d just settle down.” 

The table gentles into a wave of fake laughter. Heeseung is staring at Jake like he wants to slam him onto the table and devour him whole, gaze sharpened like a knife, kind smile twisting into a hungry snarl, tongue dragging against his canine. Fuck. This is not the time. 

“Excuse me,” Jake says abruptly, pushing his chair out to stand, cheeks blazing. “I’m going to freshen up.” He doesn’t even wait for his parents’ dismissal before darting away and making a beeline for the restroom. 

It’s like he’s running a damn fever, the sterile chill of the bathroom harsh against his skin as soon as he rushes inside, the mint oil diffuser on the counter doing the opposite of its job, an overwhelming coolness that gives him a headache. He’s so grateful that rich people hardly excuse themselves from their tables, giving him the privacy he needs to have his mental breakdown, bracing his palms against the counter and trying to get his breathing under control. 

But of course, nothing ever goes his way anymore. 

Heeseung just has to make things obvious and follow Jake right into the bathroom. 

“Fuck off,” Jake mutters. 

In the mirror, Heeseung’s eyes darken. “What was that?” 

“Fuck. Off.” 

Heeseung approaches Jake like a panther, slow, threatening, daring him to move even an inch. His potent, warm scent overcomes the oil diffuser, and his body is a furnace pressed against Jake’s back. He frowns into the mirror, brushing the backs of his fingers down the side of Jake’s neck. “You know better than that, pretty pet.” 

“I’m not your pet,” Jake snaps. Like he doesn’t feel the urge to roll over and pant, to beg for Heeseung’s touch. 

Heeseung raises his eyebrows and wraps his hand around Jake’s throat, a threat. It looks so good there. Heeseung’s palm slots so perfectly under Jake’s chin, his fingers reaching around his neck like a collar. “So you’re still a brat. Thought I fucked that out of you. You’re a lot of work, Jake.” 

Jake huffs. “A lot of work? You haven’t had to deal with me all week.” He lets his bitterness show, eyes narrowed as if he’s Heeseung’s partner, accosting him over an affair. But the thing is: they’re not partners, and it’s pretty clear that they never will be. They’re opponents, really. Opponents who happen to fuck. 

“Aw, poor thing,” Heeseung teases, pushing forward and making Jake’s hips press painfully into the counter. He’s not squeezing his throat yet; he’s just feeling it, thumb digging gently into his pulse. “You’re just a toy, don’t you know that? I’ll use you when I want, and only when I want. And you’ll be good for me because you’re a slut. Because you’re so dumb for me.” 

Heeseung is winning. 

Jake’s never had a chance. His options are limited; either he storms out and misses Heeseung’s touch for even longer, or he surrenders to the feeling of Heeseung against him and humiliates himself once again. He bites his lip, taking everything in, their height difference in the mirror, Heeseung’s imposing dominance over his lithe frame, his big hand engulfing his throat. He’s been yearning for this all week. 

If he’s simply convenient for Heeseung right now, a plaything, he’d rather be this than be nothing at all. 

“Heeseung,” Jake breathes, jutting his ass into Heeseung’s crotch, too eager to be subtle. “You’re right.” It’s a whisper. He can hardly hear it himself. 

But Heeseung reads his lips, grins triumphantly and gives his neck a fleeting squeeze. “What am I right about? Say it.” 

Heeseung’s warmth envelopes Jake completely; the counter is bitingly cold under his palms in comparison. They itch to touch. They ache for Heeseung. Jake whines, “I’m dumb for you. Just a dumb slut. I want you, please. I’ll be good.” 

“You’re learning. Good dog.” Heeseung releases Jake’s throat in favor of caressing Jake’s body, fingers fluttering across his collarbone, teasing over his sensitive nipple, settling at his waist. “Wanna know what good doggies get?” 

Jake nods fervently. “Yes, sir.” Oh shit—his formal manners are still in effect, he realizes with a wince. He can’t believe he just called Heeseung sir.  

Heeseung’s responding chuckle sends a chill down his spine. “Cute.” He tugs on one of Jake’s belt loops and guides him into the biggest stall, shuts the door and locks it. It’s a good thing the stall runs close to the floor, so if anyone were to walk in, they wouldn’t see two pairs of dress shoes getting up to something suspicious. 

Jake almost worries about their parents coming in to check on them, but Heeseung’s palm presses against his clothed dick and that thought evaporates instantly. 

“You’re already hard,” Heeseung comments, feeling him up, backing him into the wall. 

Jake’s breath catches in his throat. “Are you surprised by that?” 

“No.” Heeseung laughs, all air. He graduates from rubbing over Jake’s pants to unbuttoning them, dragging them down his thighs along with his boxers, making him flinch at the cold air against the heat of his skin. “I just think it’s cute how much I turn you on. You’re a cute little whore. So cute and so pretty when you’re good for me.” 

Somehow, the sweeter the words, the more they hurt; false hope just tastes bitter in Jake’s mouth. It’ll be hell to miss this, to miss the control Heeseung has over him, to miss the addictive venom Heeseung shoots into his veins with every word, with every breath. Everything Heeseung does breaks him. Everything. 

Jake gasps as soon as Heeseung’s hand wraps around his cock, hot and earnest, the size of it making him feel small—Jake’s dick is pretty average, he’d say. Decent length, decent girth, but the broadness of Heeseung’s hand engulfs him. 

Heeseung makes a sound low in his chest, like a purr, and strokes gently over Jake’s dick, pressing his thumb against the leaking tip.

Jake feels so needy that he almost doesn’t register someone entering the restroom until he can hear the faucet squeaking, almost whines at Heeseung to give him more. He bites his lip and hopes that Heeseung can read the desperation in his eyes. 

But suddenly Heeseung is dropping to his knees, holding the backs of Jake’s thighs, and surging forward to take him into his mouth, so wet and hot and eager, lips sealed around the shaft and tongue lapping at the head. He even looks devastating with his mouth full, cheeks hollowed out and intense gaze aimed up through his lashes. His eyes are always so lustful; whether it’s sex or power he lusts for, he’s insatiable—it doesn’t seem like he’ll ever stop taking and taking so greedily, sucking Jake’s cock into his mouth until his lips stretch around the base, pulling back until they tug at the crown. 

Jake sighs out with pleasure, his bliss-sweetened breath accompanying a lewd slurp around his dick, another echoing through the stall right after. 

Heeseung isn’t sloppy. Jake’s cock glistens with saliva and precum but it doesn’t drip, the wetness of Heeseung’s mouth contained within the vacuum-tight seal of his lips. But he’s loud. He’s vigorous. It’s almost like it’s his goal to overwhelm Jake, to show him a world of pleasure that no one else can, to break him for everyone else. 

Jake’s heart pounds in his chest, and he feels like everything can be heard, like they’re causing a big racket over the soft music playing through the speakers. God, this fancy bathroom is the last place he needs to get caught getting head. He’d never hear the end of it from his parents. 

He stares at the stall door, holding his breath to stop himself from moaning, although it probably wouldn’t be much louder than Heeseung’s mouth popping off of his cock. “Hey,” Heeseung husks, dragging his hands up to give Jake’s ass a squeeze. “Be good and look at me when I’m sucking your dick.” 

Jake complies, looking down into Heeseung’s pretty, round eyes and burying his hands into his perfectly styled hair. “Sorry, I— what if we get caught?” 

“Don’t pretend you’re shy. I know you’re a little freak.” Heeseung’s lips move against the tip of Jake’s dick, swollen and slick with spit. “Such a slut you’d take me anytime, anywhere. Do your parents know how filthy you are? Hm?”

“No,” Jake says. “And I plan to keep it that way, so— oh fuck, Hee.” He can’t even finish his thought before Heeseung has him in his mouth again, flicking a sinful tongue against his cockhead before burying him deep, effortlessly swallowing him down. “Fuck you, that’s so good. Fuck.”  

Heeseung hums against Jake’s dick just for the sensation, bobbing his head and guiding Jake by the hips to fuck his throat. Even on his knees, with his mouth occupied, he has full control over Jake’s body. It’s effortless for him. He’s so good with his mouth—the pressure of his lips perfect, his gag reflex nonexistent, his tongue unrelenting and hot—that Jake feels boneless, slumping against the wall and letting Heeseung do as he pleases. Even if Jake wasn’t so pliant, Heeseung’s strength would be enough. The wild look in his eyes alone would be enough. 

Jake finds himself feeling overwhelmed, cock lavished with fervent, wet attention, pleasure building in his balls, airy moans bubbling out of his throat. “I’m close,” he warns, voice wound embarrassingly tight. 

Heeseung takes it as an invitation to suck harder, sealing his tongue against Jake’s dick and pressing into his own lips with his teeth.

It feels so damn good that Jake can’t hold himself back. He tugs at Heeseung’s hair, unsure if he wants to pull him off or force him closer, and throws his head back with a pathetic whine as mind-numbing pleasure erupts through his dick. The first spurt of cum is so thick and violent that he can feel it splattering between Heeseung’s soft palate and the tip of his cock—he can even hear the squelch of all the extra liquid sloshing around in Heeseung’s mouth. 

Heeseung doesn’t even swallow. He flinches, of course, startled by Jake’s dick spasming so aggressively in his mouth, yet simply pulls back and lets wave after wave of Jake’s cum squirt against the roof of his mouth and pool in the dip of his slick tongue and leak through the slackened seal of his lips. 

“Fuck,” Jake grunts, shaking through his high. He pushes Heeseung away as soon as the last dribble of cum leaks from his cock, far too sensitive to take any more. 

Heeseung laughs through his nose, then bares his tongue for Jake to see the mess he’s made, bubbly spit and thick globs of cum so heavy that they immediately glide off his pretty pink tongue, landing on the floor with a solid plop. The streaky, milky coat left behind is absolutely filthy, and Heeseung reels his tongue back into his mouth to swallow it. 

Holy fuck. Heeseung can’t be real. 

Jake stares at him in disbelief, mouth open, slow-blinking like an idiot. 

“You came like a bitch,” Heeseung notes, wiping his lips on the back of his hand. “Were you saving all that for me?” 

Jake splutters. “What— I always come that much.” A lie. 

“Mhm.” Heeseung looks way too smug. “Well, let’s get freshened up. I’m starving—swallowing all that cum on an empty stomach was a bad idea.” 

✧

Heeseung’s excuse, “Jake wasn’t feeling well and I wanted to make sure he’d be alright,” seemed to work at the table, however annoying it was that he chose to paint himself as the caring, sweet leader he most definitely is not. Their parents seemed to believe it. 

But Jake needs to remember how good his parents are at keeping their composure. 

“We raised you better than this, Jake.” His dad paces the kitchenette, ignoring Jungwon who’s sitting at the counter and crunching on dry Froot Loops, completely in Jake’s business. 

“I really was feeling sick,” Jake argues. “What? Did you want me to puke on the table?” 

Jungwon spits a Froot Loop across the room. Jake shoots him a glare that could kill. 

“Language,” Jake’s mom scolds. 

“I can’t say puke? It’s a thing that human beings do, you know. I guess it’s a fucking sin to be human!” 

His dad slams his hands on the counter, startling Jungwon. “Don’t talk to your mother like that.” 

There’s a sharp silence that rings throughout the suite. Jungwon slips away and scurries into his room. 

“Listen,” Jake’s dad continues. “I don’t care what you have going on with that boy. In fact, it might be good for the business to marry—”

Jake scoffs. “Marriage, dad? Do you hear yourself?” 

“Just don’t get distracted. Who interrupts a nice lunch with their parents to go kiss guys in the bathroom?” Oh. Kiss. Yes, that’s totally what they were doing in that bathroom. Haha. “Have some manners. You’ve only been away for a month and you’re already getting… unruly. We don’t want you tainting the family name.” 

“Yeah, fine. Whatever. Won’t happen again.” 

✧

Once Jake’s parents are gone, he has hardly enough time to get ready for the party. He literally has to use lube to get his shorts to slip up his thighs more easily, speedruns the hell out of his makeup, and settles with a messy look for his hair. 

He’s still adjusting his bunny ears in the Uber, and faces Sunghoon to ask if they’re straight. “Hey, are these—wait, is that my eyeshadow?” 

Sunghoon shakes his head, and the familiar warm cream color shimmers on his eyelids. “No. Why would I use your eyeshadow?” 

“Um. Okay. You never wear makeup. Do you expect me to believe that the one time you do, it’s the exact same one I use?” 

“It’s just brown? You’re not the only one who uses brown eyeshadow.” 

“No, bitch. I’d recognize that silky-smooth blend and subtle shimmer anywhere. You used my fucking Chanel Les 4 Ombres in the shade Tissé Rivoli,” Jake seethes. 

Sunghoon blinks. “What the fuck? Are you sponsored?” 

Jake rolls his eyes and lets the car fall into silence, nothing to be heard but the wind and Jungwon still eating Froot Loops. Honestly, he doesn’t even know why he’s getting so worked up over Sunghoon using his makeup. He’s never been that way with his shit. What’s mine is yours, and vice versa. He loves sharing. He can always just buy new stuff—well, make his parents buy it—anyway. 

The only thing he wants that his parents can’t buy is… something that Sunghoon has had a piece of, actually. 

“You know what. Why are you suddenly wearing makeup?” Jake demands. “Trying to impress someone?” 

“Hey,” Jungwon hisses, pressing a Froot Loop against Jake’s mouth. “Just eat this. You’re gonna make the Uber driver uncomfortable.” And Jake eats the Froot Loop angrily. 

Sunghoon straightens his posture, a threat, his own bunny ears folding against the roof of the car. “And who would I be trying to impress? That Mr. Communal Cock you’re obsessed with? Lee Heeseung? Get a grip. He sleeps with everyone. You’re nothing special. And this is why no one likes you. You know, even Beomgyu calls you a brainless bimbo bitch behind your back.” 

No. No. Anyone but Gyu—Jake thought they were buddies. They got matching anklets and everything. 

He won’t admit it, but Sunghoon’s words really are an awakening punch to the gut. Jake’s been so caught up in himself, he hasn’t stopped to consider how his own friends might perceive him. Sure, he’s kind of been a selfish bitch, but he thought it was cute when he did it. Do all of them talk behind his back? He swallows around the painful lump in his throat and forces himself not to cry. “Yeah? Well, um. Your eyeliner looks like shit.” 

Sunghoon laughs right in his face. 

Who knew it’d feel so terrible to get flamed by a dude in a bunny suit? While also wearing a bunny suit. 

✧

The party is cool, at least. 

The brothers have outdone themselves, probably hired someone to decorate the house with velvet curtains and ornate gold vases and fresh roses. And the snack table has a chocolate fountain, which will be dangerous once people get drunk but looks awesome for now. 

Everyone actually followed the formal dress code—or got turned away if they didn’t—and cocktail dresses glitter under the dimly lit chandeliers, standing out next to crisp black suits. 

It sucks that Jake has to worry about bringing drinks to people and getting hazed instead of enjoying the party, or at least goofing around with the other pledges. Apparently they hate him, so. He has to suffer alone, stomping around barefoot because it turns out platform heels are torture devices, balancing a tray on his shoulder and ignoring the champagne that spills down the sides of the glasses. 

Has he been looking for Heeseung? Maybe. Passively. He’s making his rounds throughout the entire house, even stepping into guest rooms and bathrooms to offer couples refreshments for their activities. One of them asks him to join. He politely declines, but pockets their phone numbers for later. 

It’s just like a shift at a job, he thinks. He’s working. And people shove money into his top like he’s supposed to do anything with six one-dollar bills and one coupon for Arby’s. Those aren’t the kind of meats he’s looking for, damn it. 

Although, he isn’t sure if he wants to know where Heeseung is. The best way to end the night would involve getting Heeseung off, returning the favor from earlier, of course. But the worst way… 

Here’s the thing. Jake isn’t sure how he’d react seeing Heeseung with someone else. His vendetta against Sunghoon had been brewing ever since he saw him on Heeseung’s lap, just sitting there. 

Jake is a jealous person, okay? He’s starting to see that now. 

He knows that if he sees Heeseung chatting someone up, god forbid touching them, fucking them, it would hurt. 

Try Heeseung kissing someone. 

It’s an unexpected blow. Jake isn’t even on the lookout when he notices the distinct, ashen blond of Heeseung’s hair, then his arm around someone’s waist, his face buried in someone else’s face, his hand running through silky black hair. Heeseung is kissing Sunoo. Kim Sunoo. Jake’s only remaining friend (other than Jungwon or whatever), Kim Sunoo. And it hurts because duh, and because Sunoo lied to him, and because Heeseung wouldn’t kiss Jake but he’d kiss Sunoo. 

Jake turns on his heel, takes a glass of champagne from his own tray, and chugs it upon his escape. It tastes horrible. He hates fancy drinks. 

Sunoo probably loves fancy drinks, huh? He’s, like, three years older than Jake, the same age as Heeseung. He’s put-together and perfect and total wife material. 

Meanwhile, Jake is broken apart and messy and barefoot in the kitchen for all the wrong reasons. He must look the way he feels when he thunks his tray onto the nearest table, because Kai swoops in and wraps an arm around his shoulder, giving him a comforting squeeze. 

“Hey,” Kai whispers, “I never liked this hazing shit. Do you want me to get you out of here?” 

Jake immediately switches into damsel in distress mode, wrapping his arms around Kai’s middle and pressing his cheek against his shoulder with a whine. He just wants to be spoiled and doted on. It’s what he deserves. He wishes Heeseung could provide him with that, but Heeseung is occupied and he’s an asshole and Kai is right here, strong and gorgeous and sweet. So Jake latches on. Babygirl mode: activated. “Yeah. My feet hurt,” he complains. 

“Aw. Here, I got you.” Jake half-expects to be thrown over a shoulder like usual, so it’s awkward to get scooped up bridal-style and hook his clumsy arms around Kai’s neck. 

“Thanks,” Jake says, and pecks Kai’s cheek for the extra babygirl points. 

Kai carries Jake like this the entire way to his bedroom, and Jake flicks Sunghoon the bird when he passes by. 

It’s surprisingly cozy and neat in Kai’s room. It’s shared with Soobin, the perfect amount of space for two queen beds, a flatscreen tv, and an elaborate gaming setup with blue LEDs glowing from under the desk. It smells lived-in, but it smells like a Frebreze plug-in too, something adjacent to a summer breeze. 

Soobin is sitting on the end of a bed, already devoid of his blazer and his tie, and Jay is spinning around in their gaming chair, dragging from a vape pen. 

“Oh, you found Jakey. Bring him here,” Soobin requests, arms open wide. Kai laughs and deposits Jake right into Soobin’s lap. 

“Were you looking for me again?” Jake teases. He curls into Soobin’s chest, unsubtly feeling up his lean arms.

Soobin rolls his eyes, smoothing his long hands down Jake’s back and thighs, equally as unsubtle in his actions. It’s the same gentle Soobin from the beach, just a note flirtier, charged with clear-minded attraction. “No. But I am glad you’re here. You look so pretty in this outfit.” 

The bed dips with a low creak beside them. “Right? I might have to act up,” Jay adds. Wait—where the hell is Jungwon? Whatever. Jay is super hot. What Jungwon doesn’t know won’t hurt him. 

“Such a cute little bunny,” Kai purrs, working his fingers through Jake’s hair until the headband falls off. 

Jake’s still feeling particularly sore about Heeseung, but he’s also feeling a little horny at the thought of three hot guys coming to his rescue right away, eager to praise him and touch him. His body isn’t begging him to submit, but he decides to, anyway. He lets himself get caressed and complimented, hides his smile against Soobin’s solid chest. “I’m not that pretty,” he fishes. “I look silly.” 

Soobin clicks his tongue. “You’re gorgeous, babydoll.” 

“So pretty,” Kai agrees, gently combing his fingers through knots, twirling locks of Jake’s hair.

There’s a soft tug at Jake’s bunny tail. It could be any of them, so many hands beginning to trail over his body, gliding down his back and thumbing at his jaw and squeezing his thighs, all warm and tender. “Such a nice body, too,” says Jay. “We’ve all been wanting a turn with you.” 

One of Jake’s hands trails down Soobin’s body, settling at his abs, and the other reaches out to Jay, tugging him closer by the shirt. He wishes he had more hands. There’s so much man to grab. “Why take turns? I want all three of you right now.” 

“That’s so hot,” Soobin groans. “See, Hyuka. It’s not just Hee. Jakey’s a whore.” There’s no venom in the words. Soobin speaks like being a whore is something commendable, something cute. Like Jake is precious for loving this attention so much. Wouldn’t anyone? Or is Jake really a whore? Oh, the identity crisis begins. Or has he been having an identity crisis this whole time? Fuck. Jake doesn’t want to think anymore. He just wants to feel. 

He takes action himself, squirming out of Soobin’s lap and sitting on the end of the bed, pulling Kai closer by the belt. 

Kai grabs his chin to tilt his head this way and that, studying him. “Hm, I guess he really is. He can’t have lips like that for no reason.” 

Maybe Heeseung was right; Jake has puffy, dick-sucking lips. He licks over them, making sure they’re nice and wet. “Come on, then. Use them. Use my mouth.” 

What follows is the sound of multiple zippers and belt buckles coming undone at once as Jake slides into the floor. The other three crowd around him, hard cocks hovering near his face, Soobin’s fingers carding through his hair. Now this is an all-you-can-eat buffet; three nice dicks right here for Jake to suck. They aren’t as big as Heeseung’s but they’re still big, Soobin’s a similar length but less girth. Jay’s dick is curved up toward his stomach, which reveals how he stimulates Jungwon’s prostate so relentlessly when Jake’s trying to sleep. And Kai has a nice, perfect girth that continues to the head, shaft pretty and straight and flushed a dark pink. 

Jake starts from the right with Jay, kitten-licking the tip before moving on to Soobin, then Kai, getting a taste of them all. There’s a different level of saltiness to each, Soobin already leaking precum, Jay heady with sweat from food preparations for the party, Kai a little bitter like soap. 

It’s a little overwhelming, but Jake manages, comforted by the fact that they’re just here for the show, hands already working over their own dicks. 

Jake just has to look pretty and get dirty for them. 

He flutters his lashes up at Soobin, leaning forward to engulf the head of his cock in his mouth, finally using that practice on the dildo to push his limits, to suck Soobin deep enough for the head to hit the back of his throat. There’s still a good portion of the shaft left unsucked, but Jake gags when he tries more, and pulls off Soobin’s cock with a nasty squelch. Drool is already dripping from the tip. Jake catches it and rubs it into the head, then proceeds to use the moisture to stroke Kai off as he surges forward again. 

His multitasking skills have never been the best, but it’s the spirit that counts here. Jake tugs at Kai and bobs his head enthusiastically on Soobin’s dick, moaning under his breath and dragging his tongue against the prominent veins. It’s all so wet, spit leaking down Jake’s chin and his hand, precum smeared on his cheek as Jay rubs his cockhead against it. There’s a lot of heavy breathing and humidity and Jake can feel his skin getting sweaty, sticking to the leather of his outfit and dripping down his nape. 

“Holy shit,” Soobin groans, tugging aimlessly at Jake’s hair. “Fuck. You’re so pretty on your knees, Jakey. So gorgeous with a cock in your mouth.” 

Jake pops off of Soobin’s dick, still stroking over Kai’s. “Yeah? You should record me, then.” 

“Oh my god,” Jay mutters. 

Kai groans. “You just keep getting hotter.” 

Soobin immediately reaches into his pocket then grabs his phone, and has the flash of it fixed on Jake’s glistening skin before he can even blink. 

Jake is a genius. Frat boys are gross, they kiss and tell, they have folders full of random people’s nudes. There’s no way this video won’t find its way to Heeseung, and maybe the thought of Heeseung seeing him like this spurs him on more. 

He licks his lips, then focuses his mouth on Jay’s cock, bathing it in sweet, hot attention, keeping a steady pace with his hand on Kai. Jay’s is a bit friendlier to take, only slightly, and Jake can really go in on him, drool now rolling down his neck as he sloppily works his mouth, only gagging quietly when Jay thrusts a little deeper, a single tear dripping down Jake’s flushed cheek. 

“That’s it,” Jay breathes, “knew that mouth would feel good. I’m gonna come. Open up.” The wet heat of Jake’s mouth is instantly replaced with Jay’s hand, working fast and firm over his dick, collecting a nasty froth of spit against his fingers.

Jake complies, parting his lips and letting his tongue roll out just in time to catch the first spurt of cum—well, almost. It lands across his nose and upper lip and glides into his mouth. Jay groans as he fucks haphazardly into his fist, dirtying Jake’s chin and cheek and lips. 

“Fuck. So hot.” Soobin yanks on Jake’s hair and doesn’t give him a warning before he’s blowing his load on his face, too. 

Jake startles, shutting his eyes as thick ropes of spunk coat his face and add on to Jay’s mess. Soobin isn’t even trying to aim for his waiting mouth; he’s sloppily dragging the tip of his cock through Jay’s cum and spreading it around, letting his own cum splatter against Jake’s face where it may. It gets everywhere—clings to his messy fringe, weighs down his eyelashes, runs down his soft skin and drips from his jaw, landing on his chest, his thighs, pooling at his collarbone. 

“God, just look at him. I’m coming too,” Kai pants. 

And Jake takes it. All of it. He even tilts his head to catch more, to try getting it in his mouth, moaning gratefully each time the bitter substance lands on his tongue. He probably looks like he’d die without it. Like a cumslut. 

He’s filthy by the time they’re done, face laden with streaks and globs of cum, tongue still hanging out of his mouth, one eye cracking open so he can regard the camera, so he can regard Heeseung as he licks his lips clean and swallows. 

Because he’s so cute and so pretty when he’s a good puppy, right? 

✧

Everyone had their presumptions but now it’s proven, the evidence passed around in the form of one X-rated home video; Jake is easy. He’s a pliant, horny freshman who’d do anything to feel wanted. He’s a cumdumpster. A cheap hooker. A cocksucker. He’s heard it all. 

It’s not a reputation he’s mad about, though. He likes the attention, takes the whispers and giggles in stride as he waltzes into the campus Starbucks, sporting one of Soobin’s button-ups—it’s not the same one from the strip show, but there are specks of glitter stuck to the sleeve, Jake’s impression still tainting the guys’ laundry. He wonders if Heeseung still has glitter in his clothes too. If he can still taste Jake’s cum in his mouth even after making out with Sunoo. 

Jake subconsciously pouts at the thought, pretending to read the menu so he can tap a finger against his plush, pink mouth. The cashier is staring at his lips by the time he “decides,” and gulps when he fixes his attention on them. “A venti, iced caramel brûlée latte, please.” 

“Yeah, ‘course.” The cashier’s gaze lingers on him for a moment before they’re punching in the order. “On me,” they offer, and Jake is flattered by it, but he’s not that cheap. 

“I have a meal plan to blow through,” Jake insists, leaning over the counter to tap his credit card against the reader. 

“But that’s not your student card—”

“Thanks for the offer, babe.” 

Jake steals his receipt from the printer before the cashier can do something cheesy like write their number on it, and slips away to wait for his order. 

Of course, with Jake’s beauty and calming voice and sweet demeanor, he’s always known what it’s like to be adored and drooled over. But now that people know he puts out, they all think they can have a chance, and that’s what makes them so outright with their attraction. He thinks. He’s kind of new to this whore thing. 

“Jake!” He hears someone call, and looks to see Sunoo sitting at a table against the window, laptop open and schoolwork up, of course. On a Sunday. 

Great. Perfect. Sunoo really is kind, and probably the only friend Jake has left after sucking Jungwon’s boytoy’s dick, but fuck if Jake doesn’t hate him. 

Instead of calling Sunoo a cunt and dumping him out of his chair, Jake smiles, grabs his latte from the counter, and joins him peacefully. He can be civil. “Hey, Sun. Have fun at the party yesterday?” Still, he can’t keep the bitterness out of his tone. 

Sunoo shrugs. “I got a little too drunk, did some shit I’m not proud of.” 

“Oh? Do you wanna talk about it?” Jake asks, poking a straw through the mountain of whipped cream on top of his latte. There’s extra drizzle on it. 

“No,” comes Sunoo’s curt response. Shit. The nosy animal inside of Jake whimpers. “I’m sure you had a lot of fun, though.” Sunoo wiggles his eyebrows. 

Jake rolls his eyes. “I was just trying new things. Hey—by the way—are you good at calculus?” 

“Kinda. Why?” 

“I have a D in the class and I’m really behind. Professor Yoon said you’d be a good tutor so—”

“Who?” 

“Uh. Professor Yoon.” 

Sunoo seems to bluescreen for a moment, blinking into the distance, cheeks coloring themselves red. “Oh, right… I did take calculus with him. I guess I can help out.”  

Hmm. Interesting reaction. Maybe, for the first time this semester, Jake will have to take a look at one of his professors’ office hours. 

✧

The responsible thing to do: communicate with Sunoo, listen to him and figure out the secret dynamic he has with Heeseung, share his own feelings about the matter, and compromise. It’s an opportunity to get advice, to grow as a person, and to get closer to a good person like Sunoo. 

The Jake thing to do: get revenge and bathe in the suffering of his foe. 

Technically, Sunoo didn’t do anything wrong. But circumstance has officially made him Jake’s punching bag. 

Jake is so hellbent on dragging him into the dirt that he, himself, is in the dirt—literally, his ass is in the dirt and a twig is stabbing into his ear because he’s hiding in a bush outside Professor Yoon’s office window. It’s not his best moment. Nothing even happens for the first half-hour. The most interesting occurrence is Beomgyu trying to bribe Yoon with a half-eaten croissant. 

But eventually, just before the humidity gets too unbearable, Sunoo walks into the office. Aha! Jake knew there was something more going on. And there really is; Sunoo doesn’t look like he’s talking about grades. He looks conflicted, angry and flustered, hands flapping and face getting red as he accosts Professor Yoon. Then his hands are held still, he’s pulled closer, and holy fucking shit, Kim Sunoo is a dilf hunter. 

Jake is kind of grossed out, a little turned on, and a lot excited for what’s to come, silent maniacal giggles making his phone shake as he records Sunoo getting bent over the desk by a professor.  

✧

The video sits safely in Jake’s camera roll, and his iCloud, and his laptop, just in case. He doesn’t know what he wants to do with it yet, but the mere idea of possessing what could ruin powerful, perfect Sunoo fills him with a joy he can’t describe. 

For now, he revels in his evil villain moment. He breaks out his favorite Tatcha face mask and his silk robe reserved for victories like this, pours spiked lemonade into a bedazzled girlboss wineglass from Party City, and tears up a bowl of grapes that probably should’ve been rinsed first. 

“Dumb whore,” Sunghoon mutters on his way to the bathroom. 

Jake ignores it. He goes to pop a grape into his mouth and nearly lodges it in his windpipe when he gets a text—no, two texts in such quick succession that they send at the same time. 

heeseung 👉👌🔥: 

Come over. 

Now. 

Just a text from Heeseung is enough to have Jake’s dick stirring in interest. 

heeseung 👉👌🔥: 

Don’t make me send Wooyoung. 

Oh, hell no. Wooyoung really does bite; Jake found out for himself after eating his breakfast bar. 

no need for that! i’m otw! 

Jake scurries to the bathroom—shoulder checking a disgruntled Sunghoon on the way in—to rinse his face mask off, fuss at his hair, and apply his lipgloss, then changes into a simple t-shirt, fights his way into a pair of cutoff shorts, and steps into Yangyang’s Gucci slides as he orders an Uber. 

The ride is an excruciating seven minutes, so he ends up spilling his entire life story (minus the law-breaking) to the driver, who suggests he get a therapist. Four-star driver review. 

Jake nearly eats bricks trying to run up the driveway in slides, and Yeonjun looks up from where he’s sprawled out on the lawn doing god-knows-what. Showering in the lawn sprinklers? Sunbathing? Both? “Hell are you doing here? Did you leave your dignity on Jay’s dick? Coming to get it back?”

“No time to chat.” Jake knocks on the front door and startles when it immediately swings open, revealing Heeseung who looks surprisingly calm and unsurprisingly shirtless. “Oi. Hi there.” 

Heeseung doesn’t give him a verbal response. He just scoops him in and throws him over his shoulder like usual. 

“Oh, come on!” Jake whines. “I can just walk, yanno.” 

✧

Heeseung wastes no time plopping Jake down on his bathroom counter, uncaring of the bottles and hairbrush and whatever else falling to the floor. He forces himself between Jake’s legs, wraps his arms tightly around his waist, and dips his face down to attack his neck with teeth and tongue. It’s heated and rushed, like Heeseung’s on a time limit. His breath is already puffing hot and eager against Jake’s throat. 

“Hey,” Jake gasps, pushing at Heessung’s broad shoulders to no avail. To his credit, he doesn’t try very hard. He just gives up after one shove and buries his hands in Heeseung’s haphazardly towel-dried hair, squeezing his thighs around his lean waist. “Mmh, what’s this about? If you were this horny, you could’ve fucked anyone else.” 

Heeseung growls at that, biting harshly into Jake’s neck and sucking the sensitive skin between his teeth, sure to leave an insane mark behind. “I’m not fucking horny,” he mutters against Jake’s throat. 

Jake cries out when Heeseung bites him again, moans when the sharpness of his teeth molds into a warm, wet balm of lips sucking onto the irritated skin. Fuck. It’s like Heeseung wants to make his whole neck purple and blue. How can he say he’s not horny when his mouth is working like that? When his cock is so hard pressed against Jake’s thigh that it might leave a bruise. “What the fuck?” Jake squirms, tugging punishingly at Heeseung’s hair. His body tries to flinch away only to melt back in over and over again. “You—you know you’re wearing sweatpants, right?”

“Shut up,” Heeseung bites out. “Stop asking questions. Just take what I’m giving you, slut.” 

“But, can’t you tell me why—”

Heeseung pulls back abruptly and grabs Jake’s jaw, tugs at it as he talks right in his face, breath so minty and sharp with alcohol it has Jake’s eyes watering. “You can’t even keep that filthy goddamn mouth closed, can you?” He yanks Jake’s jaw open and spits right into his mouth. The substance is weirdly hot for how much it tastes like spearmint, and the dazed confusion fills all of Jake’s senses as Heeseung drags his fingertips over his tongue. “Better? You just needed it filled with something, yeah?”

Jake bites his fingers, and Heeseung’s only reaction flickers deep in his eyes, a threatening glimmer like the glint of a knife. “Okay, doggy.” Heeseung takes his fingers out and wipes them on Jake’s thigh, then reaches over to rifle through a drawer. A normal thing might be, like, lube, or a condom, or even something to tie Jake up with, but it’s a small white box with Zest printed across the front that materializes in Heeseung’s hand. Bar soap. 

Heeseung rips the box open like it’s paper, takes the bar out, and shoves it right into Jake’s shock-parted lips. 

“Hmp—” Jake gags at the overwhelmingly bitter taste. He tries to spit it out but Heeseung forces his jaw shut, making his teeth dig into it and lock on. 

“Here’s something to bite on. You needed it, you know. But I don’t think anything can clean that disgusting mouth of yours.” 

Jake blabbers incomprehensible pleas around the soap, growing more and more desperate as spit wells up in his mouth, collecting bitter suds and dragging the unbearable taste down his throat. A gross, big bubble forms between his corner of his lips and the bar. 

Heeseung ignores his protests, pulling him off the counter and shoving him into the floor. 

Jake lands with a slurred cry, and doesn’t have time to process his situation or dislodge his teeth from the soap before Heeseung is pulling him around by the hair, dragging him toward the toilet and shoving his head down into the bowl. Alarms go off in Jake’s head. Frat house toilet. Frat house toilet. Frat house toilet. He retches at the thought of what goes on in here, of what horrors might linger on the porcelain, and tries fighting back against Heeseung. 

It’s no use, Heeseung just knees Jake in the ass and pushes harder on the back of his head. All Jake can do is hold his breath and squeeze his eyes shut and pray to every deity of every religion as his face is completely submerged in the shockingly cold water. And Heeseung just has to be the cheesiest motherfucker alive and flush the toilet. The water soaks Jake’s hair and his collar, and the very last shred of his dignity is flushed right into the plumbing system, never to be seen again. 

Jake might actually get murdered in this bathroom—if he doesn’t, then the diseases will get him—and the craziest part is that he’s still hard, still moaning at the feeling of Heeseung aggressively kneading and slapping his ass. 

When the swirlie is over, there’s a yank to Jake’s hair so violent that the momentum of it combined with his scream sends the bar soap flying into the toilet, along with a bubbly eruption of spit. And a little bit of bile, to be honest. Jake is experiencing intense heartburn right now. 

“Fuck,” Jake gasps, coughing when bitter saliva catches in his throat and toilet water threatens to drip into his mouth. He can’t open his eyes and can’t stop letting spit glide through the tight seal of his lips, crying pathetically as water cascades down his face, his neck, his chest. 

“What’s wrong?” Heeseung teases, stroking Jake’s back. “I thought you liked getting your face all messy.” 

Jake blubbers, rapidly shaking his head. “No.”

“No? Should we ask Soobin what he thinks of that?” 

“Okay! I get it.” Jake snivels, shoveling his sopping wet hair out of his face. “What do you want from me? An apology for being a whore? What’s it to you whose dicks I suck?! You asshole.” 

Heeseung huffs out a mean laugh. “I don’t want an apology, sweetheart. Take your clothes off. Get in the shower. You look disgusting.” 

✧

Heeseung is insane. 

Well, first of all, he shoved Jake’s head into a fucking toilet. 

But that’s not the point. The point is that Heeseung fucks like it’s his only purpose in life, focused and thorough and powerful, his cock driving in and out of Jake’s body at a pace that feels like a punishment—maybe it is. Heeseung has a forearm braced against the tile wall and his feet flat on the ground, a hand fisted into Jake’s hair and wet hips smacking relentlessly against Jake’s ass. 

The water is still running, steaming the room up and drawing rivulet after rivulet down Jake’s tanned, deeply arched back, and Jake can’t find any traction on the ground or the wall or reality itself. Somehow, Heeseung’s hand in his hair and cock in his ass manage to keep him afloat, Jake’s hands dragging against the wall and knees trembling as his body rocks helplessly against Heeseung’s. 

“Heeseung,” Jake wails, eyes rolling back as Heeseung pauses to grind his cock so deep that he can feel it in his throat, tongue falling limp and dog-like pants rushing through his lungs. The thrusts pick up where they left off and Jake swears he can feel his soul melting into the drain. “Mh, ah, hahh,”   he moans, his bitchy, high-pitched sounds echoing against the shower walls. “Oh, Hee— Heeseung. So good. Love how you, ah, how you fuck me.”

“Oh yeah, puppy? This is how my pretty slut likes it?” 

“Yes, yes!” 

“Fuck,” Heeseung groans, his thrusts becoming so intense that it feels like Jake’s insides are being beaten. “You should see how your ass bounces on my cock. I should record it for you. Maybe send it to the guys—I know you get off on that, you dirty bitch.” 

Jake moans particularly loud at the thought, clenching his hands into fists against the wall because he feels so good that he doesn’t know what to do. He just wants to scream about how much he love, love, loves having Heeseung like this. 

“Yeah, I know. Know you like it when guys wanna fuck you.” Heeseung leans forward, pressing his chest against Jake’s back and licking the moisture from his neck. “But they can’t fuck you like this, Jake. No one else will ever fill you up the way I do, fuck you up just the way you need it. You’re made to take my cock.” Heeseung’s breath is hot and shaky against Jake’s ear. “Tell me who you want. Tell me who fucks you so good.” 

Jake can tell he’s crying now, even with warm water cascading down his face; he’s so lit up with sensation that he can’t contain it, crackling apart, a firework bursting and sizzling into a night sky. His body really is being worked just right and he can’t imagine getting fucked any other way. He can’t imagine taking anyone who isn’t Heeseung. It’s all he wants, all he feels like he’ll ever want. “You,” he chokes out. “I want you. You fuck me so good, only you. Only want your cock inside me.” 

“Good boy,” Heeseung praises. 

Then Jake says something he can never take back; “I’m yours.” 

The sound of skin slapping against skin ceases, only the water running down their bodies and dripping at their feet, and their heavy breaths remaining. Jake literally cries at the loss, clenching and rocking himself back and forth on Heeseung’s cock. 

“Oh, baby,” Heeseung purrs, standing straight to sweep his hands down Jake’s back and knead at his ass. “Sweet, precious puppy. What am I gonna do with you, hm?” 

Jake hiccups. He shakes his head. He already knows what Heeseung’s going to say and it hurts. 

He’s going to say that Jake’s too innocent, too dumb, too naïve, naïve enough to believe that someone like Heeseung would do something like claim a person, let alone a freshman. Let alone someone who isn’t Sunoo. 

He’s going to say that Jake is so much less than him. That they could never happen, and Jake could never, in any world, belong to him. 

“I take it back,” Jake mumbles. “Just—just keep fucking me and pretend I didn’t say that.” 

“Don’t be that way,” Heeseung chastises, pulling his dick out with a wet squelch and turning Jake to face him, hands resting on his hips. 

Fuck, Jake’s done it now. This is probably the most humiliating moment he’s ever had with Heeseung, and that’s saying a lot. 

Heeseung stares into Jake’s soul, pupils so blown, it’s hard to tell where they end and his irises begin, dark and deep enough to swim in. He gets more gorgeous every day. His flushed skin looks devastatingly amazing with water running down it, and his hair is all messy and falling into his face; the wild look really suits him. It fits his personality. “You already said it,” Heeseung continues. “You’re mine.” 

Jake’s breath catches. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it… like that.” 

Heeseung backs him into the wall and hooks his hands under his thighs, effortlessly lifting him up. Jake’s arms scramble to wrap around Heeseung’s neck, extra help he probably doesn’t need. “How did you mean it?” Heeseung presses on, lining himself up and shoving Jake down on his cock, ridiculously strong for the frat guy he is. 

Jake gasps sharply. There’s something even filthier about this position, his legs spread wide to accommodate Heeseung’s body and feet hovering in the air, his own dick rubbing between their stomachs, his entire body weight pressed down on Heeseung’s cock, gravity impaling him so deep he can hardly breathe. “Um…” 

“Um?” Heeseung urges. The tip of his nose is brushing against the bridge of Jake’s, his lips so tantalizingly close, their wet bangs mingling together. He draws his hips back and slams his cock into Jake, experimental, trying to find some good ground. Jake’s whole body slides up the wall with it. 

Jake groans, digging his nails into Heeseung’s shoulders. “Fuck. What were we talking about?” 

Heeseung laughs, and he doesn’t sound nearly as winded as he should. He slowly works his dick in and out of Jake, tugging up and down on Jake’s waist and rocking his own hips. “We were talking about the fact that you’re mine.” 

“Oh my god. I didn’t— ah. Wow, that feels so good.” 

“You’re mine, Jakey,” Heeseung teases, making his voice all syrupy and melting Jake’s brain with his steadily-intensifying thrusts. 

Jake whines. “Stop it.” 

“What? Saying it like it is? You’re mine. You’re. Mine.” And this time, his tone leaves no room for argument. He’s serious—he’s not making fun of Jake, he’s serious. 

Jake can’t comprehend it. His mind is still reeling when Heeseung surges in and kisses him. It’s by no means chaste and pure—probably because they’re fucking. It’s sloppy yet controlled, Heeseung knowing exactly what to do with his tongue and exactly how he should suck on Jake’s mouth, surprisingly keeping his teeth in check and only nipping intermittently at the red, swollen skin of Jake’s lips. All of that while fucking into him like a wild animal, holding his entire weight against the wall like it’s nothing. 

It’s probably not very easy to kiss Jake, either, with all the moans and whimpers flying from his throat, with his tongue uncooperative and overwhelmed, with drool running endlessly from the corner of his mouth. The only thing Jake can do is take it. It’s what he’s been best at since he got to this school; he’s good at taking it. And he can only hope that his body makes up for it, his ass still stretching tight around Heeseung’s cock and sucking him in, his thighs pressed desperately into Heeseung’s sides, his lips plush and sweet, his waist the perfect size for Heeseung to grab. All he can be is a good, pliant sex toy while Heeseung fucks him stupid. 

Heeseung pulls away from the kiss with a groan, focusing instead on fucking Jake just right, backing up enough for Jake’s back to slide down the wall, for the angle to shift. He holds Jake up by the shoulders, muscles flexing and chest heaving with the effort as Jake’s own arms become useless—one scrambling for purchase on the slippery tiled wall, the other acting as something for Jake to bite down on—but it’s worth it. This way, he can annihilate Jake’s prostate with each slide home, overwhelming his lithe body with jolt after jolt of aching, sticky pleasure. 

It must be worth the effort for himself, too. Heeseung looks wildly pleased as he stares down at Jake’s body, biting his lip and groaning each time he drives his cock inside. “You’re so gorgeous like this,” he pants, thrusts growing erratic and inconsiderate. “I can see where my cock is, fucking your sexy little body. I’m ruining you, Jake. Look.” 

Jake pulls himself together enough to comply and stop ogling Heeseung like an idiot, whining when he sees it for himself; Heeseung’s cockhead is destroying him from the inside, the force of it pushing against his abs and creating a lewd bulge with each thrust, right under his navel. Heeseung is so big. 

“You like that, don’t you?” Heeseung growls. “Like being mine? Feeling so full? Yeah? I should breed you, really make you my bitch.” 

Jake groans, drool slipping down his neck. “Please. Need it.”  

Heeseung gives it to him. Just a few more pumps until his cock is spasming deep inside Jake, shooting thick, hot ropes of cum to the point that Jake’s abdomen even looks a little fuller, distended, so stuffed that he can feel Heeseung’s load leaking deeper into his body, squelching through the seal of his sensitive walls against Heeseung’s throbbing dick. The cum even squirts out of Jake’s hole as soon as the pressure of Heeseung’s cock is gone, dirtying Heeseung’s thighs. 

That’s when someone aggressively knocks on the door and Heeseung almost drops Jake. 

“Dude, what the fuck?” It’s Jay. “How did you use all the hot water? We live in a mansion. Just fuck for five minutes like normal people!” 

✧

The aftercare is different. It’s not just Heeseung checking boxes, trying to keep his reputation as a good fuck. It’s Heeseung paying attention and caring about Jake’s needs, cleaning him up gently, asking how he feels, letting him wear his coziest sweatshirt. They actually cuddle for the first time. It’s weird. The world might be ending. 

Jake keeps squirming, trying to get in a comfortable position that doesn’t make his ass hurt too much, or trying to escape Heeseung’s sheet flakes—seriously, he still hasn’t washed them—and Heeseung just lets him, shifting with him like the sand under waves, laughing under his breath like it’s cute or something. 

“This is weird,” Jake mumbles. 

Heeseung gives him a squeeze. “Is it? Shouldn’t we cuddle? We fuck, so.” 

“You of all people know that fuckbuddies shouldn’t cuddle.” 

“Who said we were buddies? Personally, I would never be friends with you. You’re annoying,” Heeseung jokes. 

Jake rolls his eyes and smacks his chest playfully. “And you’re an asshole. And you’re gross. Like, actually. Clean your sheets. I’m begging.” 

“Hmm… how about you clean them for me?” 

At a moment like this, Jake should not be smiling. But he is. Because he’s an idiot. 

“How about you eat my ass?” 

Jake didn’t mean it literally, but Heeseung says, “okay,” and shimmies his way down the bed, flipping Jake onto his stomach. 

“Wait— I wasn’t— oh my god. Are you being serious? Ohhh, Heeseung~ ♡”

✧

Jake is a lot less bitter about things now. 

Maybe he still growls under his breath when anyone remotely good-looking gets too close to Heeseung, and maybe he still ends up leaking the video of Sunoo and Professor Yoon to the entire student body, and emailing it to every faculty member, and emailing it to Sunoo’s dad, and sending it to Sunoo’s mom through Facebook messenger—by accident, of course. 

What? It’s tough out here for a cockslut! He needs all threats eradicated. 

“It really does suck what happened to Sunoo,” Soobin laments, stealing a bright red, budget Lamborghini and punching the driver in the face for it. He’s playing GTA V. 

Yeonjun shrugs. “He was cool, I guess.” 

“He literally missed an exam just to pick you up from jail.” 

“Did he?” Yeonjun squints at the wall, but he’s too high to remember anything so he gives up. “Oh well. I think it’s better that he’s gone. Maybe Heeseung will finally get over him. I think Jake is more Heeseung’s speed, anyway; he’s easy. And he’s dumb. And he’s weird. And he smells like caramel. Did you notice that?”

Jake clears his throat. “Is anyone gonna fill me in?” 

“Woah, Jake’s in here,” Yeonjun marvels. “Did you just teleport?” 

“No, I—” Jake rubs his forehead in disbelief. “I’ve been here the whole time.” 

“Sunoo is Heeseung’s ex,” Soobin says. Wow. He’s way easier to get information out of when he’s focused on video games. “Was? Is. Whatever.” 

Jake pouts. “So am I the rebound?” 

Silence. 

“Guys?!” 

✧

Jake is perfectly content with being a rebound, as long as it means he gets Heeseung to himself. Heeseung is what he wants the most, after all. 

Besides, it’s hard to regret anything when he’s so full of cock all the time. All. The. Time. 

Who cares if they’re in the middle of the main living area? A costume party may or may not be going on around them. Jake’s metallic minidress is leaving nothing to the imagination as he bounces on Heeseung’s lap, his glittery alien antennae wiggling on his head, his desperate hands knocking Heeseung’s cowboy hat into the floor.  

“Fuck, that’s it, baby,” Heeseung groans, alternating between squeezing Jake’s ass and pulling his dress back down. “Such a slut. Riding my cock like you’re made for it.” 

“Ah, Heeseung! So big, so deep.” 

Beomgyu growls in agony. “Can we eat our nachos in peace?!” 

“Jizz can’t be a good dip for these,” Taehyun says. “Unless…” 

Beomgyu throws a nacho. “Stop. Don’t look at me.” 

Yeonjun picks Heeseung’s hat up on the way by and puts it on his head—it totally clashes with his lazy douchebag costume. “Save a horse, ride a cowboy!” He shouts. Everyone cheers. 

And who cares if Jake misses class just to meet up with Heeseung and suck his dick in the bathroom? His gag reflex has been getting much better. He can throat Heeseung’s dick so well, still slobbering everywhere but in a good way, getting spit all over Heeseung’s balls, earning praise for being so filthy. 

“Fuck, that’s it, baby,” Heeseung groans. “Such a slut. Sucking my cock like you’re made for it.” Wait… that sounds familiar. Is Heeseung an NPC? Why does he have dialogue lines? 

Anyway, who cares if Jake is starting to need Heeseung’s touch like it’s a drug? He’s thriving. Things are only looking up from here. 

✧

Every year, Epsilon Nu plans a semi-formal event just to announce which pledges will officially join the fraternity. It’s a whole thing that they livestream and invite faculty members to, something about the importance of joining, the honor of being selected to join such an elite group of… gentlemen. 

To Jake, it just feels like the losers are being voted off the island. Kind of humiliating. 

He’s not stressed, though. Heeseung would be stupid not to accept him into the fraternity. Happy wife, happy life. 

This is just another annoying event where he has to act polite and kiss people’s asses while completely sober, something to drag himself through so he can get comfortable and climb into bed with Heeseung later. There are only two good things about this; the snack table, obviously, and Heeseung’s legs looking especially long and shoulders especially broad in that outfit, pressed navy blue slacks and a starchy button-up, a subtle gold chain glinting under the collar. Heeseung is wearing his dazzling smile, too. Even his fake smiles are stunners. 

When Heeseung notices all the staring, he shoots Jake a wink, making him swoon. 

“This apple juice looks like piss,” Taehyun observes, holding his glass up to Jake’s face. 

Jake blinks. “It does. But aren’t you supposed to hate me?” 

Taehyun looks around, as if Jake could be talking to someone else. “Me? I hate everyone. You haven’t done anything to me personally. Like, you’re a bitch. But you’re just a little misguided. I think there’s a good soul somewhere in there, and it’ll shine someday.” 

“Oh. Thank you? I think you’re cool, too. I mean it.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Taehyun dumps his drink into a potted plant. “I also just appreciate the chaos that surrounds you. It’s funny to me. I’m not letting that kind of entertainment go.” 

What the hell? Jake is not a jester! He could use more friends, though. More friends who don’t want to get in his pants. “Then you’re still my friend?” Jake asks, hopeful. 

“Sure.” 

The event is far more tolerable with Taehyun by his side, and there’s a lesson to be learned here. Something friendship something bros before hoes. Jake makes a note to himself to be a better person. 

And maybe, now that Heeseung is his, he can do that. He can get his grades on track and earn all of his friends back and everything will be just fine. Funny how it all works out. 

Everyone is eventually gathered on the front lawn, where a small stage and fold out chairs that look like they came straight from a wedding reception are set up. The pledges are sat in the front row. 

Heeseung’s opening speech is so long and boring and millennial-coded that Jake almost stops thirsting over him. Almost. 

“Now, we know you didn’t come here just to hear me talk.” Heeseung chuckles. 

“I did,” someone in the crowd shouts. Jake hopes they get hit by a bus. 

Heeseung points. “Funny. That’s funny.” No it’s not. “I’d love to talk about what I had for breakfast—” He had Jake’s dick for breakfast. “—but we’re right on schedule to announce this semester’s brand new Epsilon Nu members. Now. If I call your name, please come up to the stage.” 

The pledges called up are Yangyang, Shotaro, Taehyun, and a few other guys Jake doesn’t care about. Oh, and Jake. 

He smiles proudly as he takes his spot beside Taehyun. 

Heeseung gestures to the pledges he’s collected on the stage with his notecards, which someone has drawn a small dick on. “Everyone, please welcome our new ENu members.” 

“I object,” Sunghoon yells. He stands up, stealing the attention of everyone in the crowd. “I object.” 

“What? This isn’t a wedding. What are you objecting to?” 

“Jake Sim.” Sunghoon replies. Jake’s blood runs cold. Oh no. Oh god, oh no. “There’s no way Jake fucking Sim got accepted. He’s rude, he’s so stupid that he’s failing pottery class, and the only reason that he’s on that stage is because he’s been taking it up the ass for Lee Heeseung!” 

Everyone gasps. Heeseung’s gulp is picked up by the microphone. “Seems like someone’s had a little too much apple juice,” he jokes, trying to resolve the issue. “Security!” 

Yeonjun taps on his shoulder and whispers something into his ear. “What?” Heeseung whisper-yells. “What do you mean you forgot to hire a security guard? Don’t you remember what happened last year?!” 

“I’m not done,” Sunghoon continues. “Jake was the one who sent everybody that video of Kim Sunoo getting fucked by Professor Yoon. When I saw Jake in the bushes I thought he was just being a weird perv again, but then I realized what he was doing, and I don’t know, I think it’s really fucked up that he would not only attack a colleague but send people unsolicited porn, too.” 

“No, no,” Jake clamors, stepping forward to explain himself. “He’s lying. Why would I ever—for what reason would I do that?” 

Sunghoon grins. “Because. You’re nothing but a selfish, rude, slut.” 

“Call my lawyer,” Heeseung whispers way too loudly. 

Yeonjun flaps his arms. “Dude, the microphone is still on.” 

Heeseung smacks the microphone off the podium. 

“You know what?” Jake seethes, jumping off the stage and taking many slow, threatening steps toward Sunghoon. Anger and humiliation boil under his skin, begging to escape in the form of a fiery outburst. “You’re just jealous because the only thing you ever have up your ass is one big, gnarly fucking stick.”

“Nope. I just respect myself. Not that you’d understand that.” 

Jake grips Sunghoon’s collar, raises a tightly wound fist—“respect this, bitch!”—and launches it straight at Sunghoon’s face. 

✧

Jake’s life is over. 

If he was poor, he’d probably have to go to jail, but as it is, he just has to go back to Australia and live with his parents. Which might as well be jail. His parents suck.  

His plane flies out tomorrow. His shit is already packed. He’s gonna spend the rest of his time here clinging to Heeseung, however mad Heeseung might be at him. 

“I’m not mad,” Heeseung mumbles, soothing his hands down Jake’s sides, petting him. “Just frustrated.” 

Jake stares into his eyes, trying to find that never-ending flicker of rage in his soul, but only finding a sincere glimmer. There might be a human in there, something more than the frat boy of all frat boys. 

Heeseung sighs. “I’ve done worse shit than what you’ve done to Sunoo. I don’t care about that.” 

“Then what do you care about?” 

“You.” Heeseung pauses and rolls his next words around in his mouth. “I think I want to marry you.” 

Jake groans, hiding his face in Heeseung’s neck. “This isn’t the time for jokes.” 

“I’m not joking.” Heeseung cards his fingers through Jake’s hair, a touch Jake will always melt into. For someone so aggressive, he’s extremely soothing, a space heater, a big teddy bear. “I want to keep you here. If we got married, you wouldn’t have to leave.” 

“Sounds like a fairytale.” 

“You know how it is for us, Jake. Marriage is far from a fairytale. But… I can take care of you. I’ll buy you all the Sephora trips you want, okay? You can really be my slutty little wife. How’s that?” 

This seems like a scam. Heeseung is asking a lot of Jake. He’s asking Jake to trust him entirely and drop everything to be his housewife. There are so, so many ways that this could go wrong; Heeseung is power-hungry and scary and Jake is—well, Jake is Jake. We’ve already discussed those issues. 

But it feels so right, doesn’t it? They work so well, even if chaos ensues every time they’re in a room together. It might just keep things exciting. And their sex life will never fizzle out; that’s for sure. They’re both inhumanly horny. Seriously, they need help. 

Maybe this can be some kind of fucked-up fairytale. 

“Buy me a pretty ring,” Jake says. “Then I’ll marry you.” 

Heeseung laughs through his nose, then rolls over so he can pin Jake to the bed and kiss the life out of him, syrupy lips and eager tongue. “Deal. A pretty ring for my pretty bitch.” 

✧

The ring really is pretty, which is surprising, since Heeseung insisted he pick it out himself. Being the NFT collector and AI art supporter that he is—shiver—it was a pretty sketchy deal. 

But it worked out. The ring is gold, the inside of the tastefully sized band inscripted with the words: Heeseung’s slut. Return if found or die. So romantic. And there’s a gorgeous, heart-shaped diamond glittering brilliantly, catching his attention even as his hand cards through Heeseung’s hair. 

“I can’t believe they’re making us play golf,” Jake mutters. “There are other balls I’d rather be playing with.” 

Heeseung grins, his teeth competing with the diamond on Jake’s finger, and gives Jake’s ass a nice, firm squeeze. “Don’t talk about playing with my balls when our parents are right over there.” 

“You just grabbed my ass.” 

“I can’t resist it.” Heeseung shrugs. “Let’s be nice to your parents and go play that dumb game, okay? You’re lucky they didn’t disown you.” 

“Rude!” 

“Am I? Let’s see… you twerked on me before you even met me, came into my frat house with your bratty little attitude, demanded a bid in exchange for sexual favors—”

“You’re embellishing.” 

“Mhm. Then you couldn’t handle a little bit of fun.” 

“You mean hazing?” 

“I wouldn’t call it that. Let me continue. You printed out nudes of all my brothers and covered our floor in lube, let three of them give you a bukkake facial, stole Liu Yangyang’s slides, stole Soobin’s shirt, stole like five of my shirts, ate Wooyoung’s breakfast bar, made Kim Sunoo so humiliated that he left the school that his dad owns, aaand, you punched Park Sunghoon in the face. I’m not even mentioning all the other crimes you committed. How many charges would you even get? Indecent exposure, underage drinking, theft, assault and battery…” 

Jake huffs. “That’s enough. And your list would be way longer.” 

“You know what else is longer?” Heeseung wiggles his eyebrows, scooping Jake nice and close. 

Jake doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of Heeseung’s scent. It’s always some variation of manly, rich and sweet and smoky, and the smell has conditioned Jake to getting horny. Just like he is right now. 

“I hate you, Heeseung.” 

“Then why are you about to go slobber on my dick in that locker room over there?”