𓍢 ⋆📖⊹ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ you are reading: preacher's daughter
sjy x f.reader (corruption kink, religious guilt, smut with a lot of plot, sensitive themes, +18)
"in the early 2000s, in some small, rural town, your religious and restrained life collides with jake sim, who makes you doubt everything you know and want to explore more of the world"
wc: 19.6k (what was that honesly)
author's notes: hii hellooo!!! i don't want to go on about this any longer cause it already took me about a month to prepare this, so despite having very maternal instincts with it, i feel desperate because maybe ill never write this well again! lol (it IS that deep for me okay) anyways! i hope you can enjoy it as much as i did! and here's the playlist i used (i was heavily influenced by ethel cain)
tw: corruption kink, outsider!jake x preachersdaughter!reader, no use of yn, use of legal substances, religious guilt, religious stuff in general, heresy, slow burn, opposites attract, size difference, manhandling, heavy make out, dry humping, edging, loss of virginity, p in v, unprotected sex, belly bulge, teasing, marking, cursing, dirty talk, oral sex, clit play, nipple play, body worship (f rec.), guided masturbation, dacryphilia, talking you through it, praising, pet names (church girl, little one), some grapphic violence(? not btw the pairing tho), distorted feelings, a funny turn of events in the end bc im crazy lmao, intended lowercase, and english is not my first language!!! if i forget anything let me know juseyo!
"my children, look at your hands. are they clean? the world outside is a hungry wolf, but inside here, we must be like the immaculate lamb" you heard the pastor preach from the pulpit. formal clothes, shirt tucked into pants, the best shoes you owned, hair so slicked back with a mixture of water and styling gel that it reflected the ceiling lights. when your father's eyes fell upon you, you lowered yours, resting them on the restless hands in your lap. that week's sermon was not in vain.
"remember: your body does not belong to you. it was bought with a price of blood. any desire of the flesh is a crack in the temple, and through that crack, the enemy enters" the man kept his eyes on your figure, and it wasn't necessary to look back to know; your shoulders burned from the indirect exposure. all because he had seen the boy who tended the gardens handing you a rose; which, of course, you had accepted politely.
it wasn't as if you had feelings for the boy, but you also weren't used to receiving attention from the opposite sex - even the church youth groups were careful not to mix genders. besides that, there was the major factor of being the pastor's daughter in a tiny countryside town where everyone knew each other and nothing was a secret.
it had happened to lisa, a former high school classmate, when she had her first kiss and went to confess and seek guidance; she had come out in tears from the small room your father used as an office. that same night, he told you never to speak to or sit near her during services again. or when the late mrs. johnson refused to give her tithe, claiming she needed to pay for the entire family's burial plot since she was the last of the name; the following week she no longer appeared at church, or the week after that, and after, and after... until she was found dead in her living room armchair; your father refused to say why the woman had stopped coming on sundays before her inevitable death from old age.
you sighed when the church bells rang, indicating the end of the preaching. the murmuring grew, and most people stood up, greeting one another, talking about trivialities as they walked toward the exit. you refrained, going to help your father blow out the candles and put away the books. you piled the objects in your lap, heading toward the narrow back door, noticing out of the corner of your eye before crossing the threshold an unfamiliar face going to talk to him.
you arranged everything on the shelves, brushing your dusty hand against your linen skirt before heading back out. your father was no longer there, nor was the stranger, but you saw under the door that the office light was on, so you sat down to wait. if your mother were still around, maybe she would tell you to go talk with the younger crowd while she waited for him, but that was a reality from years ago when she was still alive. you pressed your lips together and sighed, settled once more in the front row of pews.
the silence of the hall made the distant clock's tick-tock echo loudly, and the amplitude of the empty space made the cross positioned on the small altar seem to triple in size. he was watching. even if it wasn't your father, he would know, and he would judge. he would judge your lack of excitement for religion, your little faith, your curious glances, your inadequate desires, and he would whisper to your parent what he should say up there, so that every word was directed specifically at you.
a shiver ran down your spine when the office door opened, pulling you out of your small trance. your father was the first to step out, holding the door and signaling for the other to follow. who was he? dark hair, longer than usual for guys, a heavy brown suede jacket over a plain white shirt, jeans, and leather boots. you had never seen him around there, or anywhere else in town. his face was different, handsome... very handsome. full lips, thick eyebrows, a large nose... and as they approached, you noticed how tall he was too.
"ah, you're here" your father commented, flashing a fake smile in your direction, indicating his anger hadn't ceased, even after everything he had said. you stood up on impulse; hands pinned to your sides and perfect posture, but your sweet, shimmering eyes didn't lie as they scanned the new guy. "this is jake, jake sim, he just moved in" the man continued, observing your stunned state and then clearing his throat. "introduce yourself, kid..." something deep in your gut urged you to be indifferent, to ignore jake's hand extended toward you. but your body spoke before your brain could rationalize. your name came out as a whisper from your dry lips, but he still smiled, squeezing your hand lightly, letting you let go first. he put his hands back into his coat pockets while your father looked at you as if your head had been replaced by a giant question mark.
***
after that day, jake's presence was recurring. more often than you needed, less often than you craved. he was different from all the guys you knew; those who were almost a copy of your father - clothes too perfect, empty gazes. yes, jake was like a reminder that the mundane existed, a reminder that not everyone believed in the same god as you, that not everyone prayed before eating or cared about going to hell over a bad choice. whenever you ran into him, he smiled in your direction - an upside-down smile that made you wonder if he was curious or just felt pity.
your father had said he was moving from another city with no relatives, trying to make a life in a different place, and that was why jake would live in the small back room of the church for a while, paying rent by helping with the restoration of the ceiling and some walls that urgently needed plaster and paint.
he seemed willing, never truly standing still, carrying buckets of paint, mortar, pushing the rusty wheelbarrow where he put all the tools and materials back and forth. one moment he was outside, another he stopped to smoke before moving on to restore some pillar in the main hall. and whenever you cooked, your father asked you to take a plate of food to the dark-haired guy; since your house was across the street and it didn't hurt to help.
whether it was simple rice and meat or pasta, jake always made sure to thank you properly, stopping what he was doing - white tank top clinging to his sweaty torso, stained with paint and dirt, hair stuck to his forehead which he pushed back with his fingers - stepping down from the ladder or standing up to receive the plate from you. "did you make this?" he would ask, smelling the food and then looking at you. "yes... it's simple, i hope you don't mind". he would shake his head and then smile wide before sitting down to eat on a low stool nearby. "i haven't eaten home-cooked food in months." he would fork it and take a big bite, chewing and nodding approvingly, "it's good, very good."
your heart didn't help, making your chest give an unexpected twinge that left you flustered by the compliments you never received. "you... have been helping a lot..." you justified, and after a few seconds of just watching, you would simply extend your hand in a small goodbye and turn your back, walking quickly to leave the place while your small fingers reached for the rosary decorating your neck, squeezing the pendant hard.
it was bad. it was worse than you could have imagined. and it got worse. the more you saw him, the more phrases you exchanged, the more you wanted to talk, the more you wanted to discover who he really was. you knew he had a car, a ford f-custom pickup in a faded red tone from sitting in the sun. you knew he liked jackets because you had seen him with several; you knew he smoked and that he didn't attend the services; not even once.
jake didn't talk about his family; let alone which city he was coming from. your father didn't know much more either, snapping back with a "why do you want to know?" the first and only time you questioned him during dinner. "just because... he appeared so suddenly" you replied with a trembling voice, hearing a huff from the older man.
as the weeks passed, the church took on a new air: revamped, clean. he had even taken care of the flowers in the beds - abandoned since your father excommunicated the gardener for the act of chivalry toward you - which now had small white and yellow flowers blooming. the ceiling didn't drip anymore when it rained, and jake had fixed the pews that had rotting boards inside. your father was grateful, you knew he was; maybe that was why he didn't force jake to participate on sundays. but whenever the service ended and you left the church, you could see him outside with a cigarette tucked into the corner of his lips, flipping through some book you had never heard of, sitting on the hood of his truck.
and whenever he caught you watching, he would stop, take the cigarette from his lips, and close the book, setting it aside as if he were dedicating all his attention to you for those brief minutes in which you passed by him, waved, crossed the street, and went inside; blushing, and with ragged breath. so pathetic that you felt stupid.
maybe he knew. or maybe that was very presumptuous of you. to assume he knew what he was doing to you, that your head was becoming so disorganized that even you couldn't name what it was, other than that it was wrong.
that was why you had started to pray every night that jake could find a real job and move away, asking that he be successful and move to a bigger city, far away. far from the church and far from where you could see him. and for that same reason, you would finish and go to bed crying because the words whispered weakly were never genuine. they were selfish and lying, and the angels would know.
one monday, you decided you would ignore him. that it was nonsense, that your lack of faith was dominating you and you couldn't go on like this. so, you headed to your nursing course which took place in the town clinic and which you could get to and from on foot.
on the way, you had seen him at a car parts store, but you didn't look more than enough to ignore him, letting him crane his neck out of the small shop watching you walk down the street. you had finished high school the previous year, and despite having taken some exams and sent some recommendation letters, you had never received any reply from any of the colleges; or at least that's what your father said.
you wanted to study medicine, and while you couldn't, you were content with the course miss marie taught in exchange for you helping with some patients during the week. you had already learned about sutures, stitches, wound cleaning, casting, dressings, and a host of other things. as a consequence, you ended up learning about medications and dosages and always heard from marie that you were an exemplary student and would surely do well in the real course.
and whenever she said this, a mix of sadness and joy formed in the pit of your stomach, tangling with your breakfast that you nearly threw up. you would never be able to go to college, not if you stayed here... not if you stayed under your father's watch, being swallowed by the monotony of this dead-end town and the church, ever fuller, ever more imposing.
when your break arrived, you asked to go to the bookstore on the same street and stayed there for half an hour, entertained with nursing and medicine books, tempting yourself every now and then and picking up some romance story to leaf through.
"love"
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ"surrender"
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ"desire"
the words caught in the air quickly as your eyes scanned the yellowed pages always made the hair on your arms stand up. romance wasn't something real. and the only true love was the one that came from devotion to the lord. men and women shouldn't touch for pleasure; that was reserved for marriage and procreation according to divine laws. but still, the words didn't disappear from your mind as you went back to work under the weakened heat of the setting sun.
"oh dear, are you back already? a young man stopped by and asked for you" you heard marie, stopping in your tracks, your body freezing, making you turn your head slowly toward her as she noted something in a small customer log, leaning on the counter. "jake! he said he needed to talk to you, but didn't want to leave any message" she continued simply, taking a moment to land her eyes on you and smirk at your pale expression. "you know him, right?" she knit her brows and you nodded before swallowing hard and heading to the bandage room.
what could he possibly want with you? what could be so urgent that jake genuinely sought out the place where you worked? maybe it was about your father. or maybe he needed help at the church. maybe he wanted to say goodbye before finally leaving after five weeks of living there and standing out from everything around him.
maybe he wanted to warn you that he would tell your father, that he would tell of the times your eyes lingered too long on him, or how your cheeks flushed when he smiled at you when you looked at him through your bedroom window and he was in the flower beds. your stomach spiraled and you leaned against the cabinet next to you at the unreal possibility, feeling on the verge of fainting.
air failed you and you grabbed your own shirt, twisting the fabric in your fingers and pulling -wanting the fabric to unstick from your skin for a few seconds because it had to be that preventing you from filling your lungs with oxygen and not a damn panic attack - trying to breathe deeply and not succeeding for long minutes.
you needed to tell the pastor it wasn't that, that it wasn't what he thought, that you would never think... that you would never do it! that you would be better, that you would pray more, dedicate yourself more!
when you finally managed to come back to yourself, you grabbed your crossbody bag and returned to the front of the clinic, asking brokenly if you could leave work a little early that day, which was promptly accepted despite the older woman's concerned expression.
"see you to-" but you didn't hear her, already on the sidewalk, quickening your pace.
***
you had never walked so fast in your life. the slight cramp in your calf was ignored until you were on your home block, able to see the high church bell from there, where you walked with yearning. your house had the windows closed, but the car was in the garage, only meaning your father was at the church. you threw the hall doors open, and the echo of the whistling wind vibrated against the walls. your lips parted and closed uncertainly as you passed through the rows of long pews, illuminated by the sunbeams still entering through the high windows at that hour of the afternoon. you stepped onto the platform, your low sandal heels sounding on the floorboards, extending your hand to reach the office door.
but just as you opened it, another person came out of there, bumping their body against yours.
"sorry, i-" you began, slowly raising your eyes until they met the dark eyes of the sim boy. you took a step back, squeezing the bag strap. jake closed the door behind him and smiled simply, knitting his brows when you stared at him as if he had two heads.
"in a hurry?" he asked and you pressed your mouth into a line, shaking your head. "really? i could've sworn i heard your footsteps all the way here" he said and crossed his arms, making his forearms with noticeable veins suck in your attention for an instant.
"i need to talk to my father" you managed to say quietly, looking away from him. "he's not in. at least, not here" he told you, turning his face a bit to analyze you. "did your boss say i looked for you?" he asked, watching you chew the inside of your cheek before nodding. "is that why you left early?" he raised an eyebrow and let out a short laugh.
"n-not because of you..." the phrase came out direct, more direct than you intended, and he was perfectly aware you hadn't done it maliciously, but even so, he leaned over and placed his hand over his chest, letting out a dramatic "arrgh".
"didn't have to destroy me like that" he joked, but your posture didn't relaxed. your free hand gripped your long skirt and crumpled the fabric; this didn't go unnoticed by him either.
jake straightened up and ran his tongue over his teeth, looking around before going back to watching you, measuring your small, trembling body in front of him. "did you come to tell your father that i looked for you then? wow... such a good girl, huh?" he let out in a mocking bittersweet tone.
your eyes widened and you finally stared back at him, parting your lips and feeling your heart hammer against your rib cage. "so that's really it?" he held a shit-eating grin on his lips now, just amusing himself, but when you took a step back, indicating you'd run from there at the first chance, the boy decided to stop stalling, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans and pulling out an envelope.
"the reason for looking for you was because this arrived for you, and... it seems to be something important" he handed you the letter with the college seal on the edge, pointing with his index finger.
the moment he spoke and you took the letter in your hands, your head took a while to process what that meant... or rather, what it could mean. you raised your eyes to him once more and he gestured to the paper in clear encouragement. you were feeling a bit of shame from the earlier exposure, but still... to finally have a response to the countless letters you had sent was truly exciting.
you closed your eyes for a few moments before opening the seal with erratic hands. your almond-shaped eyes scanned every detail, the sender's information, the college logos, the date, and your name written there.
"subject: admission decision and financial aid offer
congratulations! it is with great pleasure that we offer you admission to the class of-"
you stopped, not because you wanted to, but because your voice got choked up with a knot forming in your throat, making you bring your other hand to your mouth to cover it, unable to believe what you had just read.
your eyes were so wide that jake ended up laughing and leaning in to take it and finish reading for you. "thats awesome... like, with them funding a huge part of it?..." you stared at him, static. behind your eyes, your mind made a small movie of your life pass by until that moment. all the times you had worked hard on high school projects, the sleepless nights of study, the social actions that were always successful thanks to the church faithful. however, now that you had the result right there in your hands, didn't it seem a bit too much?
you remained quiet. the passing of time was just an illusion.
"what? you did not liked it?" the taller boy knit his brows and then you shook your head dejectedly, receiving the paper back and looking awkwardly at what was written. "no, i loved it. but... it's the furthest one of all..." you spoke softly at last, feeling your nose sting and eyes water, controlling the urge to cry in front of the other because so many humiliations in a row in one day would be hard to deal with.
"it's the chance of a lifetime, little one" jake added, but didn't force it more than that, resting one hand on your head and messing up your hair lightly. he didn't know exactly why, but judging by your earlier desperation and the not-so-gentle sermons the pastor used to give -which he could hear even from afar - he had some idea.
***
after the touch, jake had left you there. it had nothing to do with him anyway. you didn't know how much longer you had remained standing there; you only knew that when you left the church, the orange sky was gradually giving way to the black vastness of the night, while your father talked to one of the congregants at the front door. you had passed by them and greeted them politely, going inside and up the stairs to your room.
the week passed in the blink of any eye for you, your thoughts drifting far away. on the street you stumbled, at work you pricked yourself with scissors and needles, inattentive, earning your first scoldings from marie; you struggled to invent excuses not to eat dinner, preferring the pain of a growling stomach to sitting at the table with the pastor and having him ask about your day. and whenever you thought about sleeping to escape the hunger, the moment you laid your head on the pillow, you saw a crucifix nailed above the bed.
you didn't remember when that decoration had been nailed there, but you remembered once asking your 7th-grade classmates what they had for decorations on their walls. stars that glowed in the dark, band posters, original drawings, wallpaper - but not a damn beige wall with a single crucifix in the middle. wasn't it normal for a child to be able to decorate their room with... child things? wasn't it normal for children to be encouraged to have childhood interests? and the symbol weighed over you as if it weighed a ton, squeezing your diaphragm and making you so frustrated that you threw a pillow at the object, to no effect.
on friday, when you got up and went down for breakfast, you found the man there, with a cup of strong black coffee exhaling steam from the heat while he flipped through a newspaper. he didn't say good morning, and you breathed one out so quietly that the sound of the birds outside kept it from being heard. you served yourself cereal and milk, sitting at the furthest end of the table. he turned a page, wetting his fingertips with saliva, and you breathed shallowly, trying not to be noticed. too late. "make dinner today, and come down to eat" the thick, firm voice sounded, rhetorical and impenetrable. you nodded, even though he wouldn't see over the newspaper, and continued eating, swallowing with difficulty because you barely chewed so as not to make noise.
when you left the porch of the house, heading down the steps to the sidewalk, you were surprised by jake, who joined your walk.
"so... have made your decision yet?" he asked, hands in pockets, walking side by side.
"good morning... and no" you replied simply, avoiding eye contact with the taller man; looking at your feet walking in sync instead. jake sighed and then pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, putting one in his mouth and reaching for his lighter.
"do you mind?" he asked, and when you just looked at him for half a second before focusing elsewhere, he lit it, watching the tip burn as he took a slow drag. he blew the smoke to the opposite side. "you know those scholarships could give you access to a dorm, right? what's the problem with it being far?"
why was jake following you anyway? you rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand and shrugged. "if you want something that bad... why don't you do it?" his words parked in your head.
because james in his first chapter, verses fourteen through fifteen, said that each one is tempted by their own evil desire, being dragged away and enticed, and then after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin. that was why you couldn't decide for yourself, choose your own clothes, or wear makeup; it was why you didn't choose the decorations for your room even though you were nineteen years old, and why you couldn't let your will make you cross the country just to study if you could still be useful here. but jake wouldn't understand.
"is that what you would do if you were in my place?" you asked back, giving a timid smile and watching him study your expression - he thought you managed to look even cuter with your eyes puffy from sleep - as he slowly pulled the nicotine into his lungs, holding it and then letting it out bit by bit.
"if i were you, you wouldn't be asking what someone else would do" he replied confidently.
jake didn't have any appointments downtown, nor did he have any business there, but he still accompanied you to the front of the clinic, where he watched you go in quietly without saying anything else. he finished his cigarette right there, throwing the butt on the ground and crushing it with the sole of his boot.
marie asked you to make a splint for a little boy's finger that morning. the little guy had sprained his finger playing basketball in his garage, and every time you even brushed against the needle with the anesthesia, his eyes filled with tears. he was probably afraid, you thought, even though he wanted to appear brave. "did you know the mayor said they're going to build a sports court in the central plaza?" you commented, catching the little one's attention and seeing him shake his head no. "i heard all the children will be able to use it; doesn't that seem like a good opportunity to make friends?" you asked sweetly.
while the child thought and began to answer, you quickly gripped the anesthesia and applied it to the site. "ow!" he furrowed his brows, finally looking down and seeing the empty syringe. "you... already did it?" he blinked, confused and relieved at the same time. "uh-huh, and you didn't even notice" you breathed. "how did you do that?" he stared at you again with eyes shining with pure hope. "secret!" you winked and then grabbed the materials to make the splint.
"she probably cast a spell on me or something mommy, i swear!" that's what the kiddo said as he left the clinic accompanied by his mother, who just laughed at the silly assumptions. your boss gave you a playful little nudge, liking how you hadn't stopped smiling at the situation. after all, you had been strange all the other days, and feeling a bit of satisfaction with work was a great reason.
"you really have a gift" she pointed out and touched your shoulder. "by the way, i saw you were accompanied today... it was the guy from the other day..." the nurse continued. "are you two dating?" she asked as if she were asking about the weather.
your eyes widened and you denied it repeatedly, squeezing the small bag where you threw the dirty gauze and discarded the needle. "he... we-my father helped him... he's a newcomer". "oh. well, he definitely looks like one" she breathed before leaving you.
when you were alone in the room, you stopped for a few seconds, looking down and taking a deep breath.
you wanted to be able to say that the joy of having been good for the child with the hurt finger had remained for the rest of the day, but as soon as the clock struck five in the afternoon, you felt the anguish of the inevitable approaching. you packed your things slowly and even waited for marie to close the entrance so you could head home. if jake appeared and offered you a ride at that moment to anywhere far from there, you would accept it; you'd deal with the consequences of leaving your father waiting some other time. but no one appeared, and you were alone to face whatever was coming.
***
the bath? it had been a rupture in time disguised as a cloud of steam that passed without you noticing. you put on your light, long dress - which reached your ankles - and combed your hair before going down to make dinner.
your house had never been very well-lit, but in the past, there were still photos scattered around, some diplomas, both yours and your mother's, but your father had made sure to remove everything that reminded him of her. everything. except what he couldn't: the memory.
the humming of the refrigerator sounded louder than ever, making your internal organs want to coil up. the sound of the fire boiling the vegetable soup to thicken the broth served only as a second voice to the discordant music in the kitchen.
when it was seven in the evening, he appeared. dress shirt, polished shoes, pressed pants, and hair no longer so perfectly combed. an indifferent expression that you never knew was because he was at home or because he was seeing you. you exchanged silent glances, and he approached the dining table, which casually sat under the only light source between the living room and the kitchen. you served the plates and sat down, joining your hands and interlacing your fingers, closing your eyes to give thanks for the food.
"heavenly father, sanctify this meal which your hand has provided. may this food give us vigor to serve your kingdom with purity and obedience. amen" this made you press your lips together; he never thanked the one who prepared it.
the clinking of cutlery filled the void in the air, along with the sound of moderate chewing.
"so what happened that you lost your respect and appetite this week?" he was the one who started, cutting a piece of bread to dip in the soup. over the days you had considered telling him, taking a chance. you were almost convinced it wasn't worth it, if it hadn't been for that afternoon... you had been so happy to help, so content to see the softening expression in those child eyes.
"i received an acceptance letter, for next year's class..." you commented quietly, without the courage to look at your own parent.
"and what about it?" he returned, chewing the soaked slice of bread audibly.
"i thought... with the money i saved, and maybe finding a part-time job, i could support myself there. it's a full scholarship" oh, he didn't seem surprised.
your father continued eating, feeling your eyes slowly rising to him until he stopped abruptly, dropping the spoon on the plate. "i thought we had put an end to this discussion. that you would take the theology course in the neighboring town and help me with the church. that is the path the lord has been laying out for you..." the words came out serious.
"i made so many applications and we agreed to wait for a year, dad..." you furrowed your eyebrows.
"i didn't agree to wait a year. i never even agreed with this college story. do you know how hard it is? the sins, the ambition, the selfishness in those places? do you know what it's like to be alone in a place like that? especially you, who has never seen any of it?" his voice began to change and he moved his mouth irritably. "that's your wish? to become mundane and dirty? to disappoint god because you couldn't resist to your inner demons?" he asked, staring, his fist clenched on the wooden table.
"it doesn't have to be like that! i would only go to study!" you defended yourself, feeling a bitterness rise in your throat.
"study? do you want to look at me straight in the eyes and ask me to believe this when you can barely keep your legs closed to the garden boy?!" you widened your eyes and parted your lips... how could he say something so gross and unrealistic when all you had done was accept a simple flower?
the first tear ran down your cheek stealthily, without you noticing; the others that followed, you didn't have the strength to contain. "mom would want me to pursue this..." your voice crawled, weak and trembling. but to him, it sounded like the worst of offenses, one that tore the armor he had created many years ago.
"repeat what you've just said" his tone was dark now, loaded with a veiled hate he felt for your existence.
when his chair scraped back and his body rose, you swallowed your sobs, looking at him. "dad, p-please... i didn't intend t-"
the impact of the slap on your face was strong enough to make your ear ring and your neck be thrown to the side. the welt immediately rose to the surface of your skin. the pain made you lose your breath, but he didn't care, grabbing your hair and making you look at him as he leaned down to be at your height. "you disgust me" he said sharply, spitting the words. "i pray to god forgive your sins, but you are helpless" and with that, he let you go, making your body collapse into the chair, and he left the room, heading to the second floor with heavy steps.
you hugged your own body while the crying was overwhelming, squeezing your eyes shut and shrinking back.
when times like this arrived, to whom should you turn? your father thought you were disgusting, and god must have had an opinion not much different. your friends were limited to the young people who attended church on sundays and occasionally went to the group, but never really got close. the rest of your family lived miles away, and unfortunately, you were foolish and inexperienced, just as the older man had said.
you stood up limply and put the unfinished plates of soup in the sink, almost letting the heavy dishes fall and shatter on the floor; you turned off the light and instead of going to your room, you went out the front door, feeling the cold breeze and the yellow streetlights bathe your figure.
you walked across the porch and across the front garden until you were on the sidewalk, starting to walk without a certain direction. maybe you'd walk around the block, maybe you'd go to the small park nearby and sit on one of the swings until your body got used to the sadness and the night went back to being like any other.
***
the tears still fell, less agitated, yet colder as the wind chilled them against your flushed cheeks. your swollen nose sniffled, and you pressed your lips together, dwelling on the words you had heard.
jake was coming back from one of the freelance jobs he had picked up at a construction site. in the pickup, the music played low, and he tapped the steering wheel every now and then, attentive to the dark streets of the little town that went to sleep too early. he would have continued if he hadn't spotted something. honestly, with that thin, light dress that fluttered in the skirt from the wind, he might have thought it was a ghost... a very pretty and well-behaved one, though. the boy smiled as he flashed his high beams once, slowing down and rolling down the window to stick his head out. "hey church girl!" he called, and your silhouette stopped. but when your face turned to him, the smile jake had died almost instantly.
he stopped the vehicle right there and got out in a hurry. loose pants held up by a worn belt, a stained tank top, a jacket - which he was already taking off to wrap around you - and beautifully disheveled hair.
"what happened? what are you doing here?" he asked, looking down, without asking permission to touch your face and make you look at him. you were a mess of tears, snot, and there was still that mark on your cheek that he quickly identified. you didn't answer, but when the gentle weight of the leather jacket wrapped around your bare shoulders and jake's thumbs wiped your tears, you looked at him.
"jake..." you called, testing the name on the tip of your tongue. that, as incredible as it seems, was the first time you breathed the combination of letters.
"yes? i'm here." his expression was one of concern. but how could he feel that for someone like you? whom he barely knew or spoke to; maybe you were so miserable that you really didn't realize it. "do you want me to do something?" he asked, shifting his eyes from yours to your cheek before coming back.
"no..." you denied. you could have pulled away from him, touched his wrists so he would let go, but you didn't. "i was just... walking..." your last shred of judgment made you speak.
"no, you were crying and walking without direction... that's not just walking. what happened?" god, he was so insistent.
"my dad... we talked, about the college..." you explained, and jake shook his head, squeezing your face between his large, calloused hands. he could picture what had happened; he wasn't an idiot, he knew exactly the kind of guy the pastor was. they were all the same, so good for the community, titling themselves messengers of god or some shit like that, using other people's money to promote themselves, spreading lies, taking away dreams, having disgusting secrets.
"i'm not letting you go back home today, sorry" the boy concluded, letting go of your cheeks and holding your hand, dragging you so he could take you to the truck.
without another word, he opened the passenger door and lifted you by the waist as if you weighed nothing, sitting you there and helping with the belt. your faces were close, but your eyes were too cloudy for you to see the details of the taller man's profile. you saw him go around before getting in the driver's side and sitting there to start it again; the roar of the engine breaking the silence of the street.
he didn't say where he was taking you, and you didn't ask either. for someone who fled from him as the devil flees from the cross, you were placing a lot of trust there. in less than twenty minutes, during which you had exchanged at most two words - with him asking if you were still cold and you denying it - you had arrived at a bar where the blinking neon sign read "jj's bar." the facade was nothing fancy; on the contrary, plain walls with some posters announcing live music and cheap beer, the light of the sign in shades of yellow and red making the mixture of colors bathe the cracked sidewalk.
jake offered you his hand for you to get out, and you avoided eye contact when you did, lips pressed together. when you entered, the atmosphere was strangely welcoming. a varnished counter with several stools along its length. floorboards of wood that creaked slightly when stepped on, tables scattered about, walls covered in posters, flyers, ads, photos, and tacky wallpaper in shades of wine and brown. behind the counter, a young man was drying some glass cups, and a large cabinet held various glasses, containers, and drinks. a pool table, some slot machines, a jukebox.
"jake jakey..." the barman spoke and smiled, leaning on the counter as you approached.
jake smiled, touching the small of your back subtly as if he wanted to reassure you that everything was fine; he also extended his hand, shaking the guy's on the other side. "my friend, jay..." he breathed and followed jay's gaze, which fell slowly onto you.
"and you, young lady?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, friendly. you breathed out softly and nodded.
"i already told you about her..."
"oh... so you are the preach-"
"ahem" jake cleared his throat and the guy stopped, staring at him and getting the message.
"well, make yourselves comfortable. for you, i already know, but how about you, sweetheart, what'll it be?" - jake rolled his eyes in disbelief at the blatant flirting – the park waited for your answer, but the only thing you could do was look up, searching for a menu... like in the diners, right?
"oh-i see... what's your age?"
"nineteen" jay smiled gently in your direction, shifting his attention to the boy beside you; what kind of communication was that?
you watched him grab a bottle from the cabinet and serve a glass halfway, putting in ice and tapping the surface in front of the sim boy before pushing it toward him.
you watched jake take the glass and gulp - his prominent adam's apple bobbing - wrinkling his nose slightly before staring at you. "what?" he murmured, and you shook your head, embarrassed to be caught staring.
minutes later jay placed a glass with a pink mixture and a little umbrella on top. "its cherry syrup with white vermouth by the way, that's the lightest i can do" he threw the hand-drying cloth over his shoulder and crossed his arms. you shouldn't drink. you didn't know these people, you didn't know your limit, and you were far from home, but the only thing you did was look to the sides, searching for any sign. a cross, a saint, someone... any sign that indicated you would be punished later.
when you didn't find one, you looked at the glass, closing your small fingers around it and testing the weight before lifting it to your lips. the first sip wasn't bad, the smell was sweet and the taste even more so, but at the very end the aftertaste caused a sting. both pairs of eyes analyzed you and you covered your mouth after placing the glass back on the wood. "it's good... different, but good," you said and saw both of them smiling.
"you don't have to drink it all," jake breathed and let his eyes travel over you. your body disappeared in his jacket, and you held onto the fabric of your dress skirt as usual. were you always afraid?
you just nodded... without much to say. it was the first time you had entered a bar, you were sure you shouldn't be there, but you didn't feel threatened. the music wasn't loud and it was pleasant to hear, making your feet suspended from the stool swing lightly while you fingered the sweating glass. "have things always been this way?", jake took advantage of the moment when his colleague, and owner of the bar, moved away to talk.
and you caught yourself trying to remember when was the last time your father had acted like a real father and not like a vigilante. "no... it's hard to remember, though... after my mother passed away, he doesn't seem to be the same person" you breathed.
jake looked down and bit his lip. he was terrible at consoling and it wasn't as if he had never had a girl crying in his arms, but definitely the reason wasn't the same. "and you never thought about leaving?", he continued and saw you sip the drink once more before looking at him.
"wouldn't that be selfish?", you returned and he knit his brows.
selfish...? the word made the older boy swallow hard, tapping the counter once before getting up from the stool and helping you do the same. he held your shoulders, placing your body in front of his and guiding you to one of the game machines.
"i don't know how to play" you looked up from below and he just smiled, taking a token from his pocket and positioning himself behind you.
"you don't have to know everything to do it, you know?", his voice had a soft and more relaxed timbre now. "you just have to want to" jake carefully touched your wrists, indicating where you should hold. the machine's crank and the colored buttons that every time they were pressed made the character on the screen release some kind of different animation.
the dark-haired boy was hunched over, his face next to yours, cheeks almost brushing, explaining what you could do. your brain tried, struggled to pay attention, but it was so much information... blue button to attack, his perfume invading your nostrils, walking forward with the joystick, the warm touch of his hands over yours, white button to start again, his minty breath blowing against your neck while he spoke... you bit your lip and confirmed when he asked if you were ready.
you watched the characters on the screen casting powers and trading funny blows. in high school some boys mentioned this. it was fun, although you didn't understand the rules. you did exactly as the older boy said, managing somehow to defeat the opponent. when the 'winner' text appeared there you smiled, but you smiled even more when jake celebrated, squeezing your arms and shaking you carefully, just drawing a soft giggle from you. "you're good at it!", he straightened up and pinched your chin lightly.
he spent three more tokens, letting you test other characters and showing you how it was done; proceeding to lose all the times and making a tired face when the last fight ended and the machine flashed ‘insert your ticket’. "okay... that was a first, i'm actually good, seriously," he defended himself and you gave a breathy smile, enjoying yourself.
when your crying was nowhere to be seen and jake's presence had totally overshadowed the night's events, you could finally notice him. black, wavy hair, a mouth drawn with a heart-shaped cupid's bow. there was something magnetically soft about him that made it impossible to look away, a perfect harmony between the sharp, aristocratic line of his nose and the warm glow of his dark eyes. his lip curved into a lazy side smile, the kind of smile you knew your father would call temptation, and for the first time, you understood exactly why people gave in to it.
you passed in front of the old jukebox and stopped, observing the varnished details and the little letters inside, showing which tracks were available.
"do you like music?", he asked, approaching as well.
"i... don't listen much" and even so your eyes vibrated at the equipment in front of you, curious, exploring.
"pick one" he said, alternating his gaze between you and the machine, biting his lip, anxious to know what it would be.
"i don't know any of these...", you denied laughingly and he rolled his eyes, putting the coin there and looking at you expectantly.
so many names, you ended up choosing the most different of all, drawing a little laugh from him. jake and you looked at each other while iris by the goo goo dolls started to play. he held your hand and took a few steps back, taking you to one of the more open spaces in the bar, before joining your bodies, circling your waist carefully, smoothly sliding his fingertips along your wrist, making you hold him by the shoulders, guiding your body in a slow dance.
your heart was galloping, and your cheeks were feverish, while your expression didn't hide your mixed shock and embarrassment, feeling your lip twitch as you searched for words and gave up ridiculously.
jake smiled from the side, making you rest your head on his chest. he accompanied your small body moving slowly with his, feeling a twinge in his chest when you rubbed your face lightly against him, sniffling against his shirt. your thin and small fingers squeezing so lightly on his shoulders that he was afraid the minimum contraction of muscles could hurt you. the melody swayed the pressed bodies, and for the minutes the music box played, it was just you two there.
even when the last guitar chords played, you slowly pulled away, staring at him sweetly. you wanted to ask what that had been - which would be a mess because not even jake knew - but you moistened your lips, pulling back your arms again, smiling awkwardly before hugging your own body.
"thank you...", you said softly and he froze, his eyes darkening even more, watching your body take a few steps back, testing the subtle distance; with no intention of really running away now.
the boy blinked slowly and as soon as you turned to go back to the counter he stretched his body, holding your arm and making you turn again. but when your eyes met, he took a few moments to say: "i would never think that selfishness is being yourself. i would never think that selfishness is prioritizing yourself" the answer finally came, making you fix your eyes on him. "and if it is, then maybe being selfish isn't so bad, right?", his touch softened, making his arm slide away again, but the electricity of the contact remained there, like a promise that this was only the first step out of your bubble.
and you could swear he was approaching millimetrically when jay's voice sounded nearby. "guys, sorry to interrupt, but, we are closing"
***
the pickup's engine finally went silent, leaving only the popping of the cooling metal and the sound of the wind cutting through the tall grass of the lookout. down there, the city was just a tangle of distant lights that didn't seem to belong to the same world you were in. a parallel world where he had dragged you to spend the night.
jake lowered the tailgate and helped you up, spreading a thick blanket over the metal so you'd be comfortable. lying side by side, the sky seemed larger than you had ever seen from the locked windows of home. you talked - as if in all those years the words had just been waiting for someone to ask and care - you told him everything and anything he asked, from your favorite color to the last book you had read.
you told him about the silent rules of your routine, about the expectations that weighed on your shoulders and about how you wanted to be able to do something without disappointing the people around you. jake, on the other hand, was a presence of mysteries and calm silences. he listened with an almost voracious attention, eyes fixed on your profile, on how your mouth moved and tightened when you thought, absorbing every fragment of your story to understand how you still managed to be so intact. it was fascinating.
"and you?" you asked, turning your face to him, feeling the early morning dew prickle your skin. "do you have a religion? do you believe in god?"
jake let out a soft chuckle, a sound that vibrated in his chest before reaching the full lips he moistened. he turned on his side, propping his head on his hand to face you. "i don't believe in that image they sell out there. altars, punishments..." he shrugged, and the glow of his eyes seemed denser under the moonlight. and at the same time his sincerity frightened you, it made you more and more interested. "i have my own convictions. i believe in what i can feel, what i can touch...", jake let his eyes slide over your body for a few milliseconds.
a shiver that wasn't from cold ran down your spine.
"don't you think god- that he would hate us? for being here? for thinking like this?" the question came out small, loaded with a reverential fear, and a guilt that was present for as long as you could remember.
jake smiled, dangerously docile. "god could never hate a girl like you" he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, becoming a dark velvet. "you're just so... pure"
the word seemed to burn, entering through your ears, circling your whole body and stopping right in your chest where your heart accelerated. you sat up on the truck bed, hugging your knees against your chest and hiding your face between them for a moment. the silence in the air became thick, and not even the chirping of the crickets was enough to appease your feelings.
"i... don't feel that way anymore" you confessed with a slightly trembling voice; struggling not to cry again since your puffy eyelids couldn't handle another round.
jake sat up right after, his movement being fluid and, at the same time, careful. he didn't look away; on the contrary. his hand went up to your shoulder, warm fingers contrasting with the cold jacket, caressing the fabric that covered your shoulder with a slowness that seemed to want to uncover what was underneath all those layers.
"look at me" he asked, pulling your shoulder with a gentle firmness so you would stare back.
seeing you like that - with damp eyes, parted lips and this readiness to let yourself be carried away - jake felt his stomach twist. there was something sickly and stimulating in the way you seemed breakable in his hands, even without him touching you properly. his desire wasn't just physical; it was the desire to be the one who would untie all your knots, the one who would see your chastity transform into something that only belonged to him, that only existed in his presence.
he repeated the motion from the bar, but now there was no one to interrupt.
jake kept leaning in, the space between you disappearing while the smell of mint and leather enveloped you little by little. you knew exactly what was about to happen and your mind sought your father's warnings, the moral lessons, the sunday sermons, the sins listed in old books... but your body didn't move one bit. your eyes closed, and you held your breath without noticing, waiting for the meeting of lips in a simple kiss. his mouth warm, contrasting with your cold lips.
this was your first kiss, surrendered so naturally to jake sim that it didn't feel wrong. his large and hand held the side of your face, long fingers getting lost among the strands of hair and his thumb caressing your cheekbone, a tender possessiveness that anchored you there. at the beginning, it was a dry, exploratory contact, just the warmth of the mucous membranes recognizing each other, a sensation that made your stomach turn from the novelty.
with the passing of seconds, the pressure increased. jake didn't force it; he just offered. he parted his lips against yours, letting the tip of his tongue provoke the contour of your mouth, a silent invitation he anxiously waited to be accepted. your inexperience screamed, but instinct spoke louder. when you finally gave in, allowing the tongues to meet for the first time, a short gasp escaped your throat making the older boy sniff in approval.
jake noticed your hesitation and didn't allow you to feel lost. he guided, dictating the rhythm, while his free hand sought your wrist with delicacy making you position your hand on his shoulder, encouraging your fingers to seek the support they needed to pull closer. with the contact firm, the kiss became needy, an urgency that seemed to consume the oxygen around, and a kind of magnet making both drag closer to each other; your thigh very nearly climbing over his leg.
inside your head, chaos tried to organize itself. memorized verses about temptation and severe warnings tried to emerge, but were immediately buried. there was no room for guilt when every inch of your body responded to his with a frightening intensity. morality was a language you didn't speak anymore. now, your brain could only process the tangible reality: the taste of him.
when he took his hand to your waist, entering the jacket he himself had lent you and you startled at the rougher and more direct touch, with lips peeling off his before seeking them again, jake pulled away suddenly, clearing his throat and taking his hand from there, laughing awkwardly and shaking his head. "fuck, i'm sorry...", he breathed low, not knowing for sure what he was asking for, but making you come back to the surface too, just as confused, blushing and swallowing the saliva in your mouth, biting your lip still leaning towards him. "you've been drinking...", he explained calmly, passing his eyes over the girl, the shiny lips, the straight neckline of the messy dress and exposing one of your collarbones, the breathing through the mouth.
he had been drinking too, but your courage to speak had been entirely spent with the seal, so you just nodded, turning your face away and settling better inside the jacket.
the rest of the night was filled with small talk, clumsy touches, and without you noticing, the sun rose on the horizon, making you realize that was also your first night away from home. for a few minutes, jake had dozed off by your side, the wavy locks falling perfectly over the sculpted face, his chest rising and falling peacefully, reminding her that he had rescued and sheltered her.
that was the problem, jake made it seem good to go against everything she knew.
***
"submit yourselves to god; resist the devil, and he will flee from you. do not let yourselves fall into temptation, my children. the enemy is always lurking looking for openings, especially in those of weak heart" the pastor spoke, the bible near his chest while he walked from one side to the other, but your head was far away. you were outside the church, sitting on the pickup with the peeling hood, stained pants and denim jacket.
when was it like this anyway?
jake sim was lean and sneaky. accompanying you every morning to work on foot - with an arm that wrapped your shoulders and a mouth that whispered idiotic things just to make you laugh -, picking you up and suddenly changing the path to some place you didn't yet know, whether it was a bridge with a beautiful view or some field. poking your shoulder when he passed by you just to see you looking for him while he moved away with a playful smile on his lips. he also threw stones at your window at night when you were about to sleep, and as soon as you looked he made a gesture with his hand calling you to come down in secret, without your father knowing.
the kisses and experimental touches were becoming more and more urgent. your cheeks burned every time he got excited and brought his mouth down to your neck, whispering how much your scent drove him crazy.
it was even worse when he grabbed your waist tightly, or pressed you against some surface - usually the small room where he was staying, at the back of the church, right after the sermon ended. but, he never went beyond, sometimes stopping when both were altered and breathless from making out, with hands clinging to the barriers of clothes or to the hair of each other's napes.
little by little the questions started to get more intimate... he no longer wanted to know about your favorite things, but about what you were curious about, or how much you liked his kisses, or even how much you were willing to go with him.
god, and you were.
you bit your lip, eyes widening as you noticed what you were thinking inside the church.
when your eyes returned to the room your father stared at you firmly for a few brief seconds before returning to talk.
you had even asked your former friend lisa what you should do days ago - during the youth group’s pause; anything that would make you stop incessantly thinking about the outsider boy.
both had talked under the stairs in a whispered tone that could only be interpreted looking eye to eye: "even the greatest of sins god is willing to forgive if you are really sorry" the girl told you, staring with an impartial warmth. "that's what torments me. when i commit this sin, i don't feel bad... i feel good. better than i have ever been" had been your answer.
how could you feel sorry?
the moment the bells rang, your feet firmed on the ground, getting up hurriedly and going to help with the organization as always. books put away, candles extinguished, and this time you even managed to leave along with the other faithful who crowded near the exit, talking and saying goodbye, it was when you felt a hand wrap around your wrist and pull you from among the crowd to the side of the church. jake looked around before holding your cheek and depositing a loud smooch on your mouth, taking a little note and putting it in the palm of your hand before winking and leaving without saying more.
you gave a breathy smile, feeling like a fool. your shoes brushing against each other while opening the yellowish paper to find his handwriting.
"no work tomorrow. we have a date. meet me at 10am, you know where", with a hurried heart scribble adorning the upper corner of the post-it.
he was so secretive and unpredictable, making your belly vibrate with so many butterflies. anyway, you ran home to call marie's phone and warn her about a persistent pain in the wrist that would prevent you from working the next morning.
***
the sound of closet doors was the only noise to be heard throughout the second floor at that hour of the morning. you slipped into your white skirt and donned the blouse with romantic sleeves before stepping into your heavy shoes over your socks. your hair remained loose and your backpack was slung on in a hurry before you left the room and headed down the stairs, running into your father halfway down.
"haven't you left for work yet?" he asked, stopping in his tracks and furrowing his brow.
"i’m late today... i’m on my way!" you dodged his body and finished the descent, heading toward the door to leave.
you couldn't allow yourself to be caught, and you knew he would look out the window for at least a full minute, which made you walk slowly, mentally counting to sixty so that the steps heading down the street would suddenly change direction, crossing from one sidewalk to the other, leading you to the back of the church where the pickup truck was parked.
when you opened the passenger door to get in, jake met you with a smile, unable to help but notice you had dressed up, letting you fasten your belt and adjust your shoulders and posture in the seat, oblivious to how he watched you, until you weren't anymore and turned to him.
"what?"
he bit his lip. "you look pretty" he replied sincerely, basking in your flushed cheeks and the way you shyly looked away. he started the engine and shifted into gear before pulling away.
"where are you taking me?" you asked as the landscape outside the window gradually changed. he had taken a road that passed through several fenced pastures - some with animals, others with trees, and even those that held nothing but a green vastness of grass.
"you're so curious. i wanted it to be a surprise" he said laughingly, eyes never leaving the road.
"that's not fair... you're always doing that" you retorted, though you weren't truly bothered.
"just know you're going to like it, hm?" you nodded, fiddling with one of the buttons on your blouse.
when they were about 3 minutes away from arriving, jake told you to close your eyes, grumbling playfully when you tried to cheat by squinting through your fingers. when he whispered softly that he really wanted to make it a surprise, you stopped teasing and kept your hands over your eyes until the car was parked and he said you could open them.
and even so, when jake spoke and your eyes opened, it was impossible to believe.
from inside, the passenger window - slightly fogged and covered by a thin layer of road dust - framed the flowery field like an old, faded painting. the landscape unfolded in waves of moss-green and soft hues of lavender and white. as the engine cooled, the high sun poured a radiant light over the vast space, turning the rows of pine trees in the distance into dark green silhouettes against the blue sky.
it was beautiful, one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen. jake laughed at how you suddenly stared at him.
"how did you find this place?" you asked before putting your hand on the handle and opening the door to get out. the soft grass cushioned your weight, making it feel like you were stepping on a thin quilted layer. you bit your lip with a childish giggle and looked around. there were some fences toward the side the truck had passed, indicating the property likely had an owner.
"i came here to fish one day" he said, passing by you to get something from the truck bed.
you took a few steps and crouched down, looking at the colorful flowers more closely. so beautiful that you were afraid to touch them and end up ruining them. "i prepared something for us today..." you heard him and turned to see what he was carrying: a blanket and a basket, making you furrow your brow in amusement.
"what is this?" you stood up and went over.
"well, you said you'd never had a picnic, so..." jake shrugged, playing it cool, even though he was hoping for the surprise to be good.
he did everything, from finding a spot to spread the blanket to taking several jars of fruit, bread, and sweets out of the basket, looking your way every now and then as you followed him with your hands behind your back and a curious expression. it was still so unbelievable that jake was even there, that he wanted to get to know you, or fulfill your wishes. he didn't belong in that place - the free way he carried himself, the hair falling over his eyes, the tanned skin, the calloused hands - he stood out from everything and everyone, a natural attraction, almost as if you were tempted to look at him and desire him.
you smiled compassionately before kneeling beside him and touching his face, making jake stop, turn to you, and touch your waist.
"is everything okay? did you like it? you can tell me if you didn't, i need to know..."
you didn't answer with words, but held the back of his neck and leaned in to seal the older boy's full lips, enjoying the warmth and softness for a few seconds, catching jake off guard as it was the first time you had initiated something like that.
he had a funny look on his face when you pulled apart, like someone who had just discovered a funny secret. "i really like it, thank you" you whispered, and he stole one more little kiss before pulling you to sit on his lap, proceeding to show you everything he had brought: strawberries, pancakes with honey, a bottle of coffee.
***
time by his side seemed to flow in a different way, a soft, warm current that carried you without you feeling the need to fight it; or perhaps, you were ignoring your internalized morality, because living was more important. there, in the flowery field with the sound of the stream in the distance, the world outside was a pale memory you didn't miss at all. you surrendered with an ease that never failed to scare you, but jake sim's touch was a constant invitation to simply be.
what had started as light play, between laughter and distracted touches while eating, shifted in intensity when his body ended up over yours on the picnic blanket; he had a hand on each side of your face, avoiding letting his weight fall on you, and his eyes minutely searched your expressions to know if it was time.
the seconds in which you just looked at each other were a heavy silence, broken only by the sound of birds and the wind blowing freely. jake leaned in, as a test, and began to kiss you slowly - an almost lazy affection for a day like that, exploring your lips without haste, without the urgency of excitement. he nibbled on your bottom lip and whispered against the sensitive skin how good your mouth tasted.
but the rhythm changed as you reacted. your short gasps and the way your small hands sought the back of his neck once more, pulling him closer, began wearing down the self-control he was trying to maintain. his hands moved up, outlining your waist and messing with your clothes, his thumbs tracing the path of your protruding ribs just below the curve of your breasts, while your legs tangled together, seeking more contact, more heat.
the mood was cut sharply by a dry sound.
heavy steps against the earth, the violent rustling of vegetation, and a sharp animal grunt of pain.
you both stopped.
jake froze with his lips still brushing the skin of your collarbone where he had been licking just before, while your eyes widened, your heart racing now for a completely different reason than the second before.
from behind one of the nearby bushes, the figure emerged suddenly, piercing eyes checking if you were a threat to its hunt... it wasn't the graceful red fox from children's books, but an animal with dirty caramel fur, rustic and opaque, eyes fixed on both of you as it crossed the field. its snout was stained a bright red, contrasting with the body of a small white rabbit it carried clenched between its teeth; the small animal still spasmed, an agonizing reflex movement that made blood run even more down the fox's jaw.
the scene was ugly, pitiless, and mortal. there, under the late afternoon sun and surrounded by flowers, nature displayed its carnivorous face, reminding you that life and death shared the same space - exactly like the innocence you tried to maintain and the desire jake awakened in you.
"don't be afraid" jake whispered, a side smile forming as he saw your jugular jump with the erratic heartbeat. "it's natural, it means the fox will manage to survive for a few more days... nothing more than that" and for some reason, he didn't seem to be talking only about the animals. the words didn't do their part in making you calmer; instead, you swallowed with difficulty, entering a complicated internal dissonance.
maybe god had ambiguous plans for certain creatures. maybe creation wasn't just about green pastures, miraculous healings, and benevolence, but about this silent, cruel gear that didn't ask before turning. you thought you weren't in a position to judge; after all, who were you to understand the logic behind survival? maybe these creatures had some idea of what their destinies would be, or maybe they were completely oblivious to it, living and dying without ever understanding why.
it was this perception of the frivolity of raw life that made your hair stand on end and your throat go dry. an existential dread creeping up your spine. the fragility of the kit was your own fragility. but jake remained there, his voice steady and his body still warm against yours, as if that carnage were merely the natural backdrop for what you were doing.
"it's okay to feel sad, though... but we can't interfere" he murmured, and the way he accepted it without looking away seemed, in a way, engaging, making you face him again with tearful eyes. "jake" you called, and he smiled, brushing the tip of his nose against your neck, moving up until he was staring back at you. "can we continue in the car?" the shy words left your trembling lips.
oh? he knew exactly what that was.
he understood that transition; it was the violence of nature, strange and inevitable, that, instigated carnal acts. it was the most primitive emotional escape, the one that seeks the warmth of life immediately after being confronted with the coldness of death. the type of surrender that is condemned by all doctrines, but is the only possible response to instinct.
even so, he didn't hesitate. jake held you in his lap with disconcerting ease, one of his large hands firm on your butt as he carried you to the truck, while you wrapped yourself around his torso.
with his free hand, he opened the door and tossed you into the front seat, onto that continuous leather upholstery that eliminated any barrier between you. as soon as he got in and closed the door, the silence of the cabin was broken by the sound of your small, skittish hands reaching for his face. you gripped his cheeks hard, pulling him into a kiss loaded with want, as if every second of waiting were torture.
the kisses were deep and dense. you both grumbled and gasped against each other's mouths, a duel of tongues and teeth taking place. when you sucked his full lower lip, jake felt a snap of urgency. he pulled away just enough to get rid of his jacket and shirt, one piece following the other, revealing the warm skin under the light filtered through the windows. you blushed, eyes trailing down slowly, leading your fingers in an almost experimental way across his six-pack, mapping the defined muscles before looking up to meet him.
the eye contact didn't last long before you went back to kissing in an animalistic and needy way. jake moved his lips down to your slender neck, sucking the skin with controlled strength, leaving reddish marks. his hands slid without haste but with intention, moving down your goosebump-covered arms, squeezing your thin waist and tracing your hips until they found their way under the linen skirt. the rough touch of his fingertips scratching your rounded thighs made your whole body tense.
suddenly, in an agile movement, he reversed positions. jake pulled you onto his lap, feeling the weight of your body on his, and parted his lips when you let out an innocent little moan that seemed to echo inside him, breaking what remained of his last gram of self-control. "fuck, babe, i swear i'm trying... trying so hard to take my time with you, but you're just so hot" he whispered against your shoulder, where the sleeve of your blouse had slipped down.
"it's okay... you don't have to right now... i want it too" his head was about to explode.
"say that again..." he asked, holding your chin and sliding his thumb across your lip.
"i want you."
jake felt an electric current through his own spine at the words, holding the back of your neck firmly and invading your mouth in a messy, lingering tongue kiss. his experienced hands unbuttoned your blouse and pushed the fabric open before helping you take it off immediately reaching for your soft skin, breasts held in the bra decorated with a bow.
he bit his lip before using a single finger to pull the cup down, finding your shy, peaked nipple there. his dark eyes, almost begging, stared at you and you nodded.
he captured the small point and sucked with intent, circling it with his tongue before sucking as if he wanted to draw something from it. he closed his eyes, concentrated on what he was doing, playing with the breast between his lips while one of his hands went to the clasp on your back to open it. when he felt the weight of the breast in his mouth, he became even more invested, hollowing his cheeks as he encompassed even more of the soft flesh around the areola.
when he let go of the nipple, it was red and completely wet, using his index finger to flick it while his mouth already moved toward the other. your low moans and the way your body shivered over his did nothing to help the erection jake had in the confines of his jeans. he bit the tip of the peak when you squeezed his shoulder and adjusted yourself in his lap, practically grinding there. he returned to your lips, but didn't kiss now.
"hmm more…" he asked softly and you swallowed, feeling feverish just looking at him. "w-what?" you asked confused, but furrowed your brow and looked down with a weakened expression when he guided your hips to grind.
"jake..."
"you're going to drive me crazy..." he gasped through gritted teeth.
jake helped you out of the skirt and his eyes stayed fixed on the panties you wore - they had some lace ruffles near the elastic and were completely transparent in the front, betraying how wet you were. "shit... look at this" he moved his hand there, pressing his thumb exactly where it seemed wettest, feeling your nails prick his shoulder. "do you even know what this means?" his eyebrows knit as he looked at you again, leaning his body until his lips were brushing your ear. "your body wants me so much it's preparing you to receive me... isn't that cute?" he licked your lobe.
but he couldn't just fuck you in the damn pickup; he might be whatever he was, but he still thought of your well-being - of the fact that you were virgin and delicate and that putting you against the dashboard while he stretched you with his cock wouldn't be the best of experiences... so the boy smiled wide, turning his head thinking. "have you ever touched yourself?" he questioned, keeping his voice low and engaging, waiting for you to deny it. "not even once? not even in the shower?"
"jake..." you pleaded, embarrassed; god, he really liked how your eyes got low and avoidant when you were cornered. he bit his bottom lip and tucked a strand of your hair that hung behind your ear, running his index finger down your jaw, neck, the space between your breasts... until he was near your lower abdomen.
"i want you to touch yourself for me..." he breathed, an order so soft it sounded like a request.
you stared at him lost, almost as if at a crossroads between accepting quickly and denying for fear of doing it wrong. "sshh, it's okay... i will guide you" and jake was making it so much harder.
your mind knew, even before you did, that it was wrong... he wasn't promised to you, you hadn't prayed together before, the pastor hadn't approved - or didn't know you were seeing each other this way - everything you shouldn't do or give in to... so why were you bringing your hand down there? why were your lips trembling when your fingers felt the moisture of the soaked fabric?
"uh uh... inside the panties" jake corrected, pulling the elastic of the undergarment so you could slide your hand inside. "describe what you're feeling for me..."
pressing your lips together, wavering and closing your eyelids trying to concentrate, your fingers wandered through your folds, feeling them slippery. there was the entrance, where a portion of lubrication literally wet your phalanges, and when it moved up... right there, hidden and sensitive, was your point of nerves, pulsing. "say it, baby..." jake implored, pressing his forehead to yours.
"i-it's soft... and squishy. and it's so hot, jake... please..." your eyes met his closely now. he gave a breathy smile.
"do you feel that spot?" he asked, ignoring your plea for help.
“y-yes"
"good... rub it for me... slowly" he almost whispered, pulling away from you again and looking down. if the sight of your flushed cheeks, peaked nipples, and contracting stomach didn't make him come in his own pants, he would be fine.
jake noticed when your posture became more restless, when your hips began to involuntarily seek more pressure. "now slide your fingers down slowly... it's so messy, right? you're a messy girl..." he said, his raspy voice being the only thread keeping you connected to reality. "try to put a finger inside."
as soon as the digit slipped into the damp slit, a loud, labored moan escaped your lips. in the next minute, the weight of reality crashed down on you; shame hit you like a punch and you tried to stop, withdrawing your hand while staring at him with tearful eyes, seeking some kind of exit from a situation so intimate, so embarrassing.
"did i say to stop?" his tone changed, becoming firmer, almost authoritative, clicking his tongue and letting a sliver of his impatience show through. before you could pull away, he grabbed your wrist, keeping your hand exactly where it was, preventing your escape. the eye contact was intense, unbreakable. "try putting a second one in..." he suggested, his voice laced with a risk that made your heart race wildly.
you pouted, feeling the unusual fullness, and slowly shook your head, your voice failing as you said it wouldn't fit, that it was too much for you... jake let out a low sss, throbbing inside his underwear. "that's because you're so tight, my love" he whispered against your ear. "go back to rubbing your little clit... a bit more strength now, hm? i promise it'll be good..." he ordered and, almost instantaneously, you obeyed.
the speed with which you followed the command, despite the shame and previous hesitation, made jake's blood boil. fuck, - like a trained little bitch, he thought - dark eyes fixed on the scene of your hand moving under his words. it was, without a doubt, one of the best things he had ever witnessed.
jake leaned over and once again captured one of your stiff peaks in his mouth, sucking noisily while his other hand squeezed the neglected one. you, on the other hand, strove to follow his orders, feeling your body react in a completely new way as you used two fingers to excite your clitoris, brushing your palm slightly against your pubis; which caused a soft, prickly sensation.
your eyes rolled back and your hips moved again by impulse, making the boy attentive as he purposefully raised his hips higher, letting not only the pressure of your fingers hit you, but also the firm elevation he had there.
the contained moans from before filled the pickup, becoming more drawn out, less controlled, and jake knew you would come at any moment... you were going to come from masturbating and grinding against him, holy shit. and when your small body spasmed several times in a row, jake let go of your breast and grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand out of your panties, hearing an audible groan from you. your erratic hips took a moment to stop, almost as if your arousal was enough to make them move alone.
you looked at him with literal tears in your eyes, puffing your cheeks slightly and grunting at the slightest movement.
"aawn... don't make that face. i know, i know... sshh" he hugged you slowly, stroking your hair and your back before placing a tender kiss on your forehead. "you were so good to me...", and the words of affirmation were somehow enough to appease a void you had felt for a long time, making you sob as you nodded, allowing yourself to sink into his embrace.
***
living around jake was consuming you. it was a slow, silent process, like a tide that rises without warning until the sand beneath your feet completely disappears. he occupied you in such a way that your thoughts orbited the idea of him almost twenty-four hours a day; the memory of how he teased you, of how he left you waiting on the edge of something you didn't yet fully understand.
and in the quiet of your room, you thought that maybe he was right. maybe the guilt was yours for still being a virgin, for being this burden of glass he had to carry so carefully.
gradually, the pillars that supported your life began to give way. principles that were once non-negotiable now felt like clothes that no longer fit. at work, your attention wandered; in the church youth groups, the sacred vocabulary felt strange in your mouth. sunday services became short, rushed, while the time you spent alone, discovering your own body, increased.
you prayed less and touched yourself more. dreams became vivid, dense, and you woke up sweaty and aroused more often than you could - or wanted to - remember.
the pastor was the first to notice the spark in your eyes. then came the others. marie, your boss, commented on the change while you hummed, without realizing, a melody you had heard in his car during a drive. "you've been cheerful... different," marie said with a half-smile. although your body stiffened for a millisecond, you turned and smiled, nodding. "oh... what is it then? a boy?"
you felt the blood rush to your cheeks, but the answer came with a clarity that surprised you. "he's not a boy."
jake was a man, an idea, a new doctrine that you embraced with the same blind devotion with which you had worshiped god and the holy spirit all those years.
but the ecstasy didn't last forever.
on a thursday afternoon, upon arriving from work, the expectation of going up to your room and losing yourself in thought was cut like a razor wire. your father was sitting on the stairs, his dark silhouette against the dim light. "dad!" you exclaimed, your heart giving a troubled jolt.
"where did you leave your bible last?"
the direct and raw question tore through the atmosphere. time stopped for a few seconds; the breeze coming through the window seemed to blow out all the candles of your security and the evening sun no longer warmed the room of the townhouse.
"i-i always leave it on the dresser... when we get back from service on sunday... it's always there," you breathed, your voice small, feeling your brow furrow in an instinctive defense.
you should read it every day. without exception.
"right. and have you been talking to god every day?" he turned his head slightly, eyes fixed on yours, making the saliva go down heavy in your throat in an audible gulp.
"yes, dad," you nodded, averting your gaze to the floor.
he stood up. the heavy steps against the wood of the stairs echoed like sentences. a bitter, almost suffocating energy emanated from him as he walked toward you. you closed your eyes, stiffening your shoulders waiting for the impact of the slap you already knew, but it didn't come. instead, he stretched out his arm, taking the object that had been hidden behind him and shoved it against your chest, curling his lips in deep disgust.
"and why was your bible forgotten at church until this morning? can you answer me that?" you looked down. the heavy book, with its dark cover, seemed to burn in contact with your skin, as if the paper were on fire. your lips stayed parted, but no words came out. there was no answer. there was no excuse. "that's what i thought," your father breathed low.
the silence that followed between you and your father wasn't one of peace, but of a suffocating stagnation, where every second seemed to weigh pounds on your shoulders. he watched you with a cold pity, the kind the saints reserve for the damned before the pyre. "woe to those who call evil good, and good evil; who put darkness for light, and light for darkness" he quoted, his voice monotonous and deep echoing through the walls of the townhouse. "light cannot be given to the blind, daughter. you are too innocent to understand your own situation, to see the abyss that opened beneath your feet while you smiled."
he paused, lips narrowing into a line.
"he's already gone, for your information. left this morning. the church has been repaired, the bills have been paid... there's nothing for him to do here anyway."
your heart, which had been galloping, simply froze. air refused to pass through your throat, as if your lungs had turned to stone.
"what are you talking about?" you questioned him in a whisper, taking an instinctive step back, the bible still weighing between your fingers like a corpse.
"you know who i'm talking about. don't think you've been sneaky"
you shook your head, a frantic movement. brow furrowed, your mind screaming that it was a lie - not that he knew. damn it if he knew, actually. and before he could finish the sentence or utter any other judgment, you spun on your heels and rushed out of the house. the bible fell somewhere on the front lawn and your legs moved restlessly. you crossed the yard, invaded the street ignoring the cars and the asphalt under your feet, hurriedly crossing to the church grounds.
your lungs burned when you reached the small cabin in the back. in the last few weeks, jake had transformed that place. he had built a table with his own hands, installed lights that made the environment cozy, put up posters that spoke of a world you only knew through his eyes. there were shelves full of books and a closet... the closet he filled with his jackets.
but when you flung the small door open, the emptiness hit you like a physical punch.
everything was clean. impersonal. not a single trace of him remained; not a strand of hair, not the smell of mint and leather, nothing. you flipped the lights on frantically, hands trembling as you searched under the perfectly made bed, looking in the corners, on top of the furniture... seeking any sign, a note, a forgotten game token, anything that proved your father was just trying to scare you. you checked the small bathroom and only saw the shower curtains pushed to the corner, the bathtub dry underneath.
the little room held only the parish toolbox, a few boards leaning against the wall, and a small bench. the space he had built to live in had been dismantled as if it had never existed. it was exactly as you had asked in your prayers when you first met him... it was exactly what you had said in the sensitive words you prayed those nights, and now you blamed yourself because, of all your requests, god had chosen that one to fulfill. "n-no...", the crying that was forming, filling your eyes with tears and making your cheeks turn red, broke loose and you sat on the bed that held only the thin mattress.
you brought both hands to your neck as a long, drawn-out, tearful guttural scream left you, feeling your vision blur as tears began to stream down your face. maybe this was the punishment for sinning, for not following the rules, for being a deviant soul... and it hurt so, so much... even when you tried to breathe properly, hunching over with your chest burning and crying even more, copiously.
but suddenly, the pain of loss was replaced by an incandescent rage, something that boiled in your blood and transformed you into someone else, someone irrational and fierce. you stood up and with all the strength you had in your being, you went back breathless to the house, invading the living room where your father was still waiting for you.
you lunged at him like a wounded animal. possessed, you tried to scratch his face, fingers curved into claws. your father grabbed you by the shoulders tightly, trying to contain the explosion of fury emanating from you, a strength you never knew you possessed.
"i hate you! what did you do! you damn man! i hate you!", the words came out choked, yelled.
"you were being consumed by evil! it was for the best!" he growled, his voice trying to overcome your screams and his strong arms holding your thin wrists. you were no longer the obedient daughter. you grunted, the sound coming from deep in your throat, a primitive noise of pain and hate.
"you sent him away! it's your fault! yours!" you screamed, fighting against his grip, the world collapsing while jake was the only thing that could save you.
"look at you, daughter, look at how you are. do you think this is normal? do you think god would approve of something like this?" he questioned, and the mention of divinity only left you more unhinged.
"stop talking about that! i don't care anymore! i hate all of it! i never truly liked it..! god, angels... i don't want any of it anymore! you took everything i wanted! everything! i hate you!", and as the words were uttered, hate gave way to sorrow and your knees buckled, making your body collapse to the floor, hitting your knees on the floorboards.
when the pastor let you go, your wrists fell as if they were heavy, limp sacks beside your hunched body that was still crying, making the drops of salt water wet the wooden floor below you. he was astounded, horrified. your father took a step back, averting his eyes for a few seconds as he himself had difficulty dealing with watery eyes, running his hand over his temple before sighing.
"i feel sorry for you... i fear you are unpunishable... perhaps, there truly is no place for you beside the lord" the bitter words cut his throat before he walked away with long strides.
***
how many days had passed?
three? five? ten?
you didn't know. your room remained the same, the house remained the same, and that was all you had been seeing since then. refusing to go on with your monotonous routine. too guilty to set foot outside the house, afraid of how they would look at you, what they would think, in that damn town of five thousand people.
and you were wrong before; it wasn't jake's presence that corrupted you - your own inner demons did that. you didn't fit salvation either way.
sometimes, your father would come to call you at the door, receiving only the sweet sound of your silence from the other side as an answer. you took your baths and ate when he wasn't around or when you knew he was going to sleep. if you were wrong and if god judged you for it, then so be it... let him watch while you worship your own ruin.
the night was terribly calm.
lying on the floor, staring at the beige ceiling of the room didn't help sleep come any faster. out of muscle memory, you made the sign of the cross over your chest, like someone about to pray, but stopped halfway. who would hear your prayers? when you had decided it was better to die surrounded by the life that pleased you than to care for what should be the purest of vessels for your soul. then you turned to your side, feeling the hard floor beneath you and huffing.
you closed your eyes and tried to count. tried not to think about anything. tried to cover your face with the pillow. but it didn't work.
when the muffled sound of something scratching the glass began, you didn't give it any importance; the wind, a dry branch, or maybe just your mind playing tricks in the middle of exhaustion. but the persistent, sharp, and rhythmic taps like small hailstones cut through the silence until the annoyance overcame the inertia.
you stood up, bare feet feeling the cold floor, and walked to the window where the bluish moonlight bathed the windowsill.
looking down, the world seemed to regain its colors in a single second. jake was there. real, solid, wearing jeans and that flannel shirt that seemed to carry all the comfort your father's townhouse had denied you in recent days. he smiled when he saw you, the arm that had just thrown the last pebble coming down slowly. you opened the glass in a desperate movement, the cold night air invading the room.
"what..?" the whisper came out raspy, loaded with a disbelief that bordered on ecstasy.
"missed me, church girl?" he asked with a smirk, moistening his lips afterward, and your nod was enough to set him in motion.
with agility, he wrapped his hand in an old cloth and climbed the tree trunk beside the house. every movement of his was precise, the strength of his arms lifting him to the second floor until he braced himself on his knee and jumped inside, landing on the carpet with a nasal laugh, narrowly missing the lamp.
you were stunned.
your eyes shone in the dark, fixed on him as if jake were a divine apparition in the midst of your private purgatory. he brushed the dust off his clothes and turned his face slightly, opening his arms in a silent invitation.
he mapped you there: the thin and transparent nightgown that molded your breasts but fell loose over your hips, the rosary of dark beads resting on your exposed collarbones, and your faltering feet.
when you finally took the step forward, he pulled you hard, crushing you against his chest, against the smell of the outdoors and freedom he exhaled. jake noticed the change in your countenance milliseconds before you hid your face in his chest. the emptiness of the last few days tried to turn into crying, but your eyes were dry, exhausted from so much fighting.
"i'm sorry for not writing a note... your father was really demanding when he came to me that day" he said softly against the top of your head, his fingers getting lost in your hair in a protective caress. "was he very hard on you?"
you shook your head against his chest, a quick, almost automatic movement. jake felt the lie vibrate in your body. you really were a terrible liar, but for him, that silence said much more than any words about what you had faced since he was forced to leave.
and the boy pondered before holding your face and pulling you away just so your eyes could meet. "come with me"
your lips parted and you looked down, lost, bringing your thin fingers to the buttons of his shirt. "i don't... i don't deserve you, jake...", your head shook and your laugh was weak, reluctant.
"what is that?" he knit his brows and shook his head, holding your chin and making you look at him again.
"god hates me. he will punish me and punish anyone who tries to help me... and i don't want that for you" your voice came out choked, but he didn't let go, pressing his mouth into a line and hardening his expression.
"i know you might think that now... because that's all you know, but there is nothing to punish you... you didn't do anything wrong" he replied, stroking your cheek with his thumb. "and even if he does... i don't care" he shrugged, running his tongue along his cheek. "i've been punished since the day i was born, i can't worry about one more day". and once again, you realized you didn't know jake sim, or his story, where he came from, or what his past was, but you loved him for what he showed now. "so come with me. we'll move near your college, get a job, and you decide what to do about this" he brought his thumb to the pendant of the necklace, pressing it.
you disentangled yourself from him delicately. took a few steps back and turned around, your bare feet sinking into the carpet as your eyes scanned the room. the bedroom suddenly felt strange; the dull walls, the heavy and impersonal wooden furniture where you had grown up, hidden, and lately, withered away.
a shiver ran down your arms and you hugged yourself, feeling the weight of that decision crush your chest.
jake didn’t leave you alone for long. he approached from behind, steps silent, and wrapped his arms around your waist with that firmness only he possessed. he tucked his face into the curve of your neck, inhaling the soft, natural scent of your skin, as if memorizing your essence. "i promise to take care of you... while you discover the world, the landscapes, the life..." he hissed, his warm breath brushing against your sensitive skin and sending electric jolts down your spine.
and you shrunk slightly against him, a reflex of someone still not used to such unconditional affection. jake smiled against your neck, noticing your gradual surrender.
"let me save you"
the phrase made your heart skip a beat. it ached in a deep way, the kind of pain that tears away what was left of your old identity to make room for something new. you remained still, feeling only the beat of his heart against your back, until you finally nodded. turning to him, a light and trembling smile appeared on your lips.
"yes?" he asked, just to hear the confirmation from you.
jake held you and sealed your lips in a short kiss, but one loaded with a victorious urgency.
"you need to pack your things, we’re leaving today."
"now?" your eyebrows shot up.
"yes, now"
there was no time for hesitation. jake moved through the room with practical efficiency, helping you find a large backpack in the back of your closet and dropping it on the floor with a dull thud. he guided you to choose practical clothes and, especially, something warm to face the biting cold of the road that awaited you both.
while you looked for what to take, he helped gather small fragments of your life - a few photos and personal belongings - which were kept in a small box and carefully tucked into the backpack's outer pocket.
the rest you did alone, in an almost ritualistic silence. you folded each piece of clothing with care, feeling the weight of every choice, while jake settled onto your bed. he stretched out one leg and leaned his torso against the headboard - resting one arm behind his head - watching your every move. his gaze was attentive, calm, but charged with anticipation.
until you stopped...
and you stopped just as you were about to change your clothes... about to slip a sleeve of the nightgown you were wearing off your shoulder. knowing his eyes were on you and that he would watch you undress.
jake licked his lower lip, clicking his jaw slightly, watching you do one side and then the other, very slowly. the fabric slid down your body, pooling around your feet so that all that remained was your underwear. the boy's dark eyes outlined your curves, and it wasn't like he hadn't seen some of them before, but not all at once; never.
you waited, looking over your shoulder, and he understood, standing up and approaching you.
"do you want help?" he whispered, his body so close to your small frame that you felt his heat radiating.
"yes..." you nodded and he bit his lip.
"where do you need my help?" jake questioned, still serene... wanting to know what your real intentions were.
that was when you sought out one of his thick wrists, holding it calmly and guiding his hand to one of your perky breasts, which he palmed as soon as he felt the soft flesh beneath.
jake gave a small smile but composed himself. "you know you tease me when you do these things... don't you?" he asked softly, just leaning forward, making both bodies brush against each other, his mouth close to your earlobe.
"i'm not teasing now" you replied, sounding a bit more decisive.
"know i stopped all the other times, but i wouldn't stop this time..." he warned, trying to catch any hesitation from you, but there was none; you kept holding his wrist there, breathing calmly... he was forced to close his eyes and sigh, restraining himself. "if you really want this, use your words..." he whispered, placing a brief kiss below your ear.
"jake, please..." you began... but it was hard to find the words.
"yes? i'm listening," he wanted to hear it.
"make me yours. completely" your voice came out hoarse.
and he didn't take long to comply with your request, sliding his hand from your breast to your neck, making you turn your face so he could take your mouth in a hungry kiss; saved up since the first day he saw you in the front row of the church pews, waiting for your father to finish his sermons. his lips, full and plump, swallowing and molding yours while he held you beneath your breasts with his other strong arm. jake pulled you, literally dragging your feet across the floor until you were leaning over the dresser.
your mouths broke apart and he flattened his hand against your back, feeling the small bones of your spine and pushing you to bend further.
"bend over f’me..." he commanded, analyzing the angle; the contrast between him still dressed and you exposed making you look smaller and more breakable.
you had your hands on either side of your body and your cheek pressed against the surface of the furniture while your hips remained arched. his large hands went straight to that region, holding firm. "you’re so beautiful..." he leaned over and kissed your hips. how had he held back for so long? "stay still like that"
jake got on his knees right behind you, caressing your soft thighs before wrapping his hands around them carefully.
his long fingers gripped the waistband of your panties, sliding the fabric down slowly until it was pooling at your heels. his eyes followed the movement and went back up, now seeing your sex pressed together, so pink and barely used... he spread your legs apart, watching as your pussy decompressed, feeling his mouth water.
his tongue reached your womanhood next. it was hot, and he licked from bottom to top, catching all the places where you seemed to need him most. you whimpered and tried to lift your torso to look, feeling a stinging slap on one of your butt cheeks.
"is that staying still for you?" the boy asked muffled - making you drop your face until it was pressed against the dresser again - before sinking his tongue into your slit, feeling you getting wetter and wetter.
fingertips wandered over your legs, scratching your skin as if feeling braille, reading you completely, discovering desires and wants you had hidden.
jake opened his mouth wider, latching his pretty lips around your pussy before sucking noisily, making your small folds catch pressure there, leaving your eyes rolling back. you felt so dirty. it was terrible that you liked feeling his mouth on your body so much, terrible that your body responded so well. "j-jake..." you whimpered softly, looking for something to hold onto.
he, however, was more concerned with making you slippery enough. it was about that, wasn't it? about being able to take him when the time came. he knew it was and despite being afraid, you were more curious. when the sim's tongue penetrated your tight cavity, a grunt escaped you, and as soon as jake forced a digit inside as well, your fingers tightened against the corners of the wooden furniture; your knuckles turning white and your toes curling.
he gave a breathy smile, parting his lips as he couldn't keep his thoughts to himself. "look at how you’re squeezing a single finger... fuck, your pussy is going to be so full with my cock" the dirty words echoed low through the room, entering your ears and making you moan more and more. jake began to pump his finger, sliding his tongue down to wrap it around your clitoris meanwhile, playing with the spot like it was candy.
you shook your head - divided between the urge to keep being good or finish losing yourself - trembling and standing on your tiptoes as your muscles tensed. he forced another thick finger into you as the squelches of your entrance grew louder, making you grit your teeth and let out a drawn-out sound. "sshh, you don't want to wake up the preacher, do you?" he mocked, knowing it was almost impossible not to make a sound with the way he was touching you.
and before you could unravel, he stopped, suddenly, standing up and grabbing you by the shoulder to pull your body back and press it against his once more. his mouth traveled over your shoulders, kissing your neck and sucking the skin in visible places now, leaving marks and making your legs weak, needing to double the strength with which he kept you upright.
the boy turned you around and pulled your thighs so you could climb into his lap, walking with you to the bed and tossing you into the center of it.
you watched as jake took off his clothes, biting your lip hard while he deliberately unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants before kicking the garment away. and when he was left only in his underwear... damn, he was marked. the thick outline in the thin fabric making you doubt if he would fit before you looked at him. "speak your mind, little one..." he asked, mischievous, sliding his hands over your thighs as he positioned himself between them.
"w-what if it is too big?" your voice crackled, making him let out a brief chuckle. "then i would have to go slow... until you get used to the size..." he replied, leaning over your body, maintaining a smirk and eye contact, making your heart beat fast and your body burn. your face contorted with shame and your free hand flew to cover his eyes with a muffled grunt. "d-don't look at me like that..." you asked, affected, and he laughed again, enjoying himself.
jake held your wrist and unhurriedly moved your hand away, bringing it to his lips and kissing the whole palm, before holding it firmer and licking slowly, with a flat tongue, staring at you with eyes clouded with desire. "i can't, you're too cute..." he slid his tongue to the softest part of your palm and sucked just as he had done with your cunny earlier, stretching the warm muscle between your digits and passing between them too. when your body softened again, he let go of your hand and stood erect, looking down at you - your hair spread across the sheet, your breathing uneven, folds glistening with the mixture of his saliva and your arousal. "are you ready?" his tone was low and sensual.
you nodded, watching the older boy take his throbbing member out of his underwear. it hit, hard, against his lower abdomen, the veins protruding and the pink head swollen and leaking pre-cum.
he held the base, forcing his cock down and rubbing it against your mound in a provocative back-and-forth. god, you were so small... maybe you really should be afraid.
jake held one of your thighs, forcing your knee back almost near your shoulder, making more room for him, and guided his swollen head to your virgin entrance. "breathe in, baby... relax a bit..." he whispered as he forced his entry there.
jake advanced with agonizing slowness, feeling every millimeter of resistance your body offered. he was focused, his dark eyes fixed on the point where his flesh lost itself in your tight interiors; he watched, almost hypnotized, as the sensitive skin stretched to its limit to accommodate his thickness.
a whimpery gasp escaped the boy's lips. it had been so long since he felt something squeeze him that way, as if every fiber of you were trying to push him out and hug him at the same time.
he hissed softly, a mixture of pain and extreme pleasure, before leaning down again to capture your mouth, muffling the whimpers you let out as you felt the inevitable stretching. you were breathless, your chest rising and falling frantically. your hands, restless and desperate for a point of support, squeezed his arms which pinned you to the bed, your nails scratching the warm skin before sliding down your own breasts, squeezing them in a reflex of agony and ecstasy.
"it's too much...nng i can't!" you protested through gritted teeth, your voice choked.
"of course you can... you're being so good..." he replied, his tone of voice so intoxicating it numbed you.
the compliment made you throw your head back, small tears of pain and effort accumulating in the corner of your eyes as you felt his weight fill every empty space that remained in you. when jake finally buried himself completely, he let out a raspy grunt, biting his own lower lip as a few drops of sweat broke out on his forehead. "fu-ck, you squeeze me so well... so good, my love..." he whispered, his voice failing.
he tried to move his hips, a short and experimental movement, and felt your nails dig hard into his biceps in response to the new surge of sensations. jake stopped for a moment, his face close to yours, seeking your eyes reassuringly. "just breathe, hm? don't think too much..." he started talking to you, his soft voice acting like an anchor in the middle of the storm. "the hardest part is over... can you do this for me?"
the way he asked, turning that surrender into a favor for him, made the pain of being devirginated start to be swallowed by an even greater need: that of satisfying him, of being exactly what he wanted you to be. which made you nod breathlessly and bring your fingers to your swollen clitoris and rub it - in slow circular motions, as he had taught before - closing your eyes and allowing yourself to feel bit by bit how the stinging became something more bearable, almost good... "there's my good girl" he said with a little smile after watching the act.
every time you got wetter and less tense, you could feel his cock going deeper and deeper, sliding out and coming back in with jake's full weight in every thrust.
you could even feel your lower abdomen bulging, parting your lips at the sight you had when you looked down to where your bodies met - the large cock, and your small, swollen lips sliding along the length of it. your moans became more spontaneous, and gradually your body began to give small signs it would give in.
jake saw you arch when he thrust harder, felt your nails scratch his back when he laid his body over yours, incredibly deep, making the head of his cock hit your internal wall.
but it was when he buried his face in your neck to suck the flesh and vent some of the pressure he felt, that you looked up.
there, above your bed, the crucifix.
your eyes clouded with growing pleasure and your thoughts far away, no longer able to process the guilt you had carried all that time, not while jake fucked you and made you a woman. this was the moment when you decided to have a new religion, one that began and ended with jake sim.
***
you leaned your head against the glass of the truck, feeling the constant vibration of the engine against your temple as you watched the landscape of your old life being left behind, turning into green and gray blurs. the radio played a soft melody, a sound that filled the comfortable silence that had settled between you.
occasionally, jake took one hand off the steering wheel and squeezed your thigh lightly - a possessive and calm touch, just to make sure you were still awake. you smiled, closing your eyes and feeling that, finally, you were safe.
not far from there, at a roadside station that smelled of diesel oil and burnt coffee, two old men shared a beer at a rustic, worn-out table. between them, an old battery-operated radio crackled, fighting against static to deliver the latest afternoon news.
"- suspect in the murder of four people remains at large" the announcer's voice cut through the hot air. "the suspect goes by the name of jaeyun sim. he has asian features, is approximately five-foot-nine, with brown eyes and hair. he is the primary suspect in the killing of his parents, his fiancée, and a witness at the scene of the crime four months ago. if you have any information call xxx or make an anonymous report".
WHAT CAN WE DO TO HELP HEESEUNG AND ENHYPEN? please read below.
hi guys, i redownloaded tumblr again just to make this statement but heeseung leaving enhypen has caught many of us off gaurd. i think everyone is devasted by this and yes i know everyone is thinking about a future with enhypen as six and honestly I don’t want that either.
i came here to spread awareness about what we could do as a fandom. please refer to this thread first of all.
link one — HEESEUNG did not make the decision to leave—he was kicked out of ENHYPEN.
this shows everything that adds up to heeseungs departure if anyone was also fishy about his sudden announcement like me. honestly, it makes sense.
but now that we are aware, what can we as engenes do? thankfully, twitter engenes made a thread of everything we could do from our side to fully support heeseung and bring him back.
link two — things you can do to help enhypen
sign the petition.
link three — template to email journalists about the situation.
link four — guidance on calling / faxing hybes investment companies !
link five — i found this account very helpful with keeping up with updates and finding out ways to help enhypen.
please sign the petitions ( as to my knowledge, we already have just over 500k ), rich engenes donate if you can. and most of all, do not stop talking about it.
this is genuinely the least we can do and it’s heartbreaking to me that we have to take action when their shitty company can’t do jack.
reblog this post, share it, do anything you can to raise awareness because this isn’t a simple decision you make, this is injustice.
despite everything that’s happening, i want to come here and have a few words :,)
enhypen has been my safe space, and my escapism. writing, has been too. i was given a chance to share my stories as a form of entertainment.
heeseung will not be removed from my stories, nor will i delete any works including him. i also think that people in enhablr should not neglect heeseung and remove him from any sort of media here.
i will continue to write about enhypen, and i will continue to stand for heeseung.
nerd!jake x altgirl!reader (college!au, fluff, smut +18, jake is so clumsy and whiny idk idk)
"even though you're not a fan of physics, you learned perfectly well that opposites do attract after meeting your new coworker, jake sim."
wc.: 14.7k (im sorry i dont even know how this happened)
author's notes: to begin with i just desperately needed to write about jake, and then someone on twitter shared that video of him talking during bs about einstein and relativitys law like it was the coolest thing in the world, and idkkk he's like the most puppy nerd coded person ever i want to EAT him. anyways, AS ALWAYS ive reread it a dozen times and still have mistakes so!!! im not gonna share the playlist this time because its SHAME!!! thankyou for supporting my writing! happy friday! love yall sexies, have a good time! PS: please notice the change in the text messages like while they were strangers then comfortable and then back to feeling nervous towards each other please tell me if i did good ><
tw: english is not my first language!!! use of yn and (lmao) heeseungs english name, lowercase writing, use of legal substances (alcohol and cigarettes), cursing, dirty talk, manhandling, size difference, oral (f. and m. rec), cunnilingus, pussy drunk jake, big dick jake (yeppyyy), unexperienced jake, library sex, masturbation, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap yo willy), coming inside, cervix kissing, LOTS of praising, love confessions, LET ME KNOW IF I FORGOT ANY!
the orange glow of the late afternoon sun made the college library feel weirdly cozy. different from the mornings when you had to work, when the place was just painfully cold and way too bright, enough to see tiny dust particles floating in the air if you focused hard enough. working there wasn’t that bad, aside from the boredom and the monotony of doing the same tasks over and over again. the paycheck covered your weekend concerts and your impulsive online shopping sprees, so whatever.
you were sitting on the swivel chair - headphones resting around your neck, messy bun, smudged eyeliner, flavorless gum in your mouth - behind the oak counter, scanning and cataloging a few new titles that had arrived earlier that day. you picked them up one by one, stuck the barcode label on, registered them on the website, and tossed them into the cart beside you. you’d shelve them later.
you were paying attention to everything and nothing at the same time. a group of students had taken over one of the study rooms, two girls were studying together near a table by the windows, and an old lady wandered around looking for the next book she’d reserve.
the calm of the day was interrupted when mr. clint’s nasal voice echoed behind you.
“yn, i’d like to introduce you to your new shift partner”
you stopped what you were doing and sighed before spinning around in your chair, ready to deliver your best uninterested “hi,” but your eyebrows shot up instantly. behind the old man stood a guy who looked like he’d walked straight out of some cliché teenage romance movie.
he wore a plaid shirt over a white tee, light-wash jeans, and a backpack slung lazily over one shoulder. his brown hair was slightly messy and, behind a pair of glasses that kept slipping down his nose, dark attentive eyes shined like a puppy’s. he gave you a goofy, almost shy smile and lifted his hand in a simple wave.
“jake, yn. yn, jake,” clint added. “hope you two get along”
what the hell is a guy like this doing here? it wouldn’t be weird to see someone like him at a campus football game or promoting some frat party down the hallways, but here?
“is there a problem?” the old man asked, noticing your silence and confused expression, making your eyes widen as you quickly shook your head, trying to look normal again. hopefully the shock wasn’t that obvious.
“none! it’s a pleasure… the job sucks, hope you know that” you said casually before turning back to what you were doing.
you heard jake’s soft laugh and mr. clint clicking his tongue, probably paired with the eye roll you’d witnessed at least a hundred times before. it didn’t take long before they left again, going back to the little orientation tour and leaving you alone once more.
since your shift started at 1pm and ended at 6pm, you always left the last - and most unbearable - task for 5pm. that way you never finished it and could dump it on the idiot from the night shift; a nearly forty-year-old guy who had hit on you on your first day. you pushed the book cart between the shelves, searching for the right sections and double-checking alphabetical order to put the new books away.
one of the cart’s metal wheels made an irritating scraping sound against the wooden floor; the screw was loose and apparently the college’s finance department couldn’t care less about the dozens of emails you’d sent asking for a new one. you had been listening to music earlier, but your playlist had ended, leaving you with the library’s sepulchral silence.
“did you know that, technically, time passes slower at the top of a mountain than at sea level because of gravitational time dilation?”
the unfamiliar voice caught you off guard, making your body jolt and your hands tighten around the cart’s handle. your heart, which had been beating calmly, suddenly sped up, leaving your legs weak.
“holy-, you scared me” you complained, frowning and placing a hand over your chest as you turned around. jake was there, leaning against the shelf. he held a thick applied physics book that almost slipped from his fingers when he got startled by your reaction.
“shit, sorry! my bad…” he sucked air through his teeth. “wasn’t my intention, it’s just that we… i mean, we couldn’t really introduce ourselves and i thought-” he ran a hand through his hair and then pushed his glasses back up his nose, like a nervous tic. “and this book is amazing, you know? it’s fascinating how einstein predicted that before we even had atomic clocks to prove it. it’s like reality is just a suggestion, you get it?” he smiled awkwardly, glancing away.
unbelievable.
you figured he had to have some flaw. maybe he’d gotten written up for hooking up in the locker room and getting caught by the janitor, maybe he was failing some insanely hard class and the boring library job was his only option; especially since the position had been open for months and literally no one had applied. you just didn’t expect him to be an incurable nerd who tangled himself in his own words because he couldn’t keep up with the speed of his thoughts and somehow knew everything about every possible subject. and the worst part? he was so pretty you might not even care.
“sounds awesome. i don’t know shit about that, but that’s definitely impressive” you crossed your arms, looking up at him with a subtle smile.
and he kept going. he spoke at a moderate volume - his voice would crack mid-sentence whenever he realized he was getting too loud - gesturing, pulling faces, and you followed every single one of them, studying his perfect face, thick brows, slightly big nose, well-shaped lips. he also was a good few centimeters taller than you. not to mention his veiny hands showing whenever he grabbed the cart to help you push it.
jake was stupidly attractive and completely clueless about it. the way he bit his lower lip while thinking, the way his eyes drifted upward trying to find simpler words to explain something to you, or when he hurried to place a book on the highest shelf, stretching his arm and leaning toward you.
and that’s how, over the course of an entire hour, he talked so much that somehow the topic went from einstein to rpg systems, and you ended up shelving all the books together.
“it’s just that the final boss has a 40% elemental damage resistance, which totally breaks the mage build, so in that case the best option would be a tank knight-”
your alarm went off inside your apron pocket, cutting him off.
“shift’s over,” you said simply, turning off the repetitive sound.
“for real?! i thought it’d drag more…” he licked his lips, looking at you. the two of you held each other’s gaze for a few seconds. “so, uhm… can i get your number? i’ve got, like, the perfect video to show you about that turn rotation i was talking about” he explained, and you held back a laugh before handing him your phone, he didn’t needed to explain you had given it to him anyway.
you waited while he typed his number in and gave it back so you could save it and send him a dot just so he’d have yours too.
“well… that’s it. congrats on your surviving first day” you teased, already reaching behind your back to untie the knot of your uniform, exposing the band tee you wore underneath. his eyes scanned carefully.
“thanks, i guess?” he gave you a confused, amused look. “you’re leaving already?”
“mhm. if i stay more than five minutes past my shift it’s like my soul starts leaking out of my pores” you mimicked dramatically, twisting your arms with a funny face. “and i wouldn’t recommend staying either, or clint’s gonna ask you to cover the night shift too”
you turned your back with a small wave in the air and headed toward the tiny staff room, pushing the door open and going straight to your locker. you shoved the apron in carelessly, grabbed your bag, let your hair down, and got ready to leave.
***
the walk home felt longer than usual. you normally rushed it, headphones in, mind somewhere else, but this time you caught yourself thinking about your new coworker more than once. you didn’t understand shit about physics, and you’d never played anything remotely close to an rpg. honestly, your only real concerns lately were what to wear to the cover show you were going to that weekend and what kind of makeup you’d do.
still… you hated admitting it. he was adorable.
and somehow, your peaceful, painfully boring job had just become the most interesting part of your day.
[jake🤓🐶]: hii, it’s jake. from work! hahah
[jake🤓🐶]: after i left i realized we didn’t actually talk about ourselves at all. that was my fault… i always end up talking too much about the stuff i like…
[jake🤓🐶]: you can tell me to stop! i mean, my friends do that sometimes.
[jake🤓🐶]: anyway! tomorrow i’ll definitely talk less and let you talk more!
[jake🤓🐶]: so see you tomorrow?
[jake🤓🐶]: oh yeah i was about to forget. this is the video i was talking about!
[jake🤓🐶]: link attached
[jake🤓🐶]: it’s literally the best way to defeat a high-level boss in dxd! but of course you’d still need a bit of luck with the dice to roll a crit or something close to that
[jake🤓🐶]: … i did it again
[jake🤓🐶]: so sorry, really. see you
lying in bed, already halfway ready to call it a day and sleep, you covered your eyes with your forearm and smiled at absolutely nothing after finishing his messages. ew. you felt like a pre-teen.
[you]: i’ll watch it! see you tomorrow!
***
as the days went by, the closeness between you and jake grew almost miraculously. not that it couldn’t have happened naturally, considering you worked the same afternoon shifts, but despite all the differences that made you orbit distant galaxies - you with your worn combat boots and smudged eyeliner, him with his geek-print t-shirts and the curiosity of someone still discovering the world - you still chose to get to know each other little by little.
like the night he practically tortured you through chat messages talking about some damn console he’d found at an antique shop, only to bring it in his backpack the next day and hook it up to the old monitor behind the library counter.
he spent a full twenty minutes explaining pixel logic and how the gameplay was “revolutionary for its time,” while you just watched his hands messing with the cables, amused by his excitement. when you finally started playing, he was confident, giving you tips on how to hold the controller and how to get the timing right. but by the second round? you got the hang of it. one quick move and you smashed his score on the screen.
“no way” jake stared at the screen with his lips parted before looking at you. “how???”
“just pressing the buttons… seemed pretty easy to me” you teased, making a smug little face.
“yeah right… that’s beginner’s luck!” he said, rolling his eyes, face all red and flustered, pretending to be annoyed even though the tiny smile tugging at his mouth betrayed him completely.
or the time your favorite band had surprise-dropped a remastered album and for an entire week literally everything that came out of your mouth was about it. poor jaeyun got so curious he said he wouldn’t mind if you played it during break.
and that’s exactly how you started spending every break together in the staff area (cubicle), sitting on the floor, shoulders brushing, sharing a bag of chips, one earbud each, your phone replaying your playlists while his soft, slightly citrusy perfume mixed with the smell of old paper.
“shut up, this is literally one of the best ones!” you’d exclaim, nudging him lightly with your elbow after he called the lyrics “exotic”. you’d close your eyes and rest your head against the locker behind you, taking a small pause while he laughed under his breath at the way you protested like he’d insulted a family member.
when you opened your eyes again, he’d still be paying attention to the music, drumming his fingers on his thigh, before turning to you with a wide smile. you hated when he did that, it was unfair that he was that pretty in every tiny detail. you’d smile back automatically, feeling your stupid heart take off at a full gallop.
the tension between you evolved as you both became less ignorant about the interest you clearly showed in each other. like the day you were on the verge of a nervous breakdown over an epistemology and statistics assignment. seriously, why would a humanities major require math of any kind? couldn’t you just… use a calculator or ask google? you huffed, slumped over the table and papers when jake nudged you, asking to see it and almost instantly offering help.
“let me help you, yeah?” he gently took the pencil you were holding loosely between your fingers. “the epistemology part here is simple if you apply the law of large numbers to validate the statistical sample the prompt gives you” he explained calmly, in that soft didactic tone of his, dragging his chair closer to sit beside you.
jake solved the questions one by one, filling the pages with his tiny, rounded handwriting, a mix of print and cursive, explaining step by step while you barely paid attention; your focus entirely on the cute sound of his breathing and the profile of his nose illuminated by the nearby desk lamp.
“and if we isolate the variable-” he stopped, realizing you were staring at him instead of the paper. he cleared his throat, laughing awkwardly, eyebrows lifting quickly. “want me to explain that part again?”
“uhm?” you looked down at the paper and then back at him. “no need. i got it. you’re good at explaining…” you murmured softly, holding back your smile when you saw him stutter a little, completely shy, before returning to the assignment.
but you’d bet the most challenging day was when you both decided to get some air behind the library, where there were a few patio chairs with umbrellas and the herbology department’s garden, full of different little plants. jake was reading some random comic, occasionally adjusting his glasses and licking his lips in a way that was way too attractive for you to ignore. you watched him while pulling a cigarette from your pocket, lighting it and taking a slow drag, blowing the smoke to the opposite side and lazily tilting your head toward your shoulder. what you didn’t expect was that in the brief moments you drifted off into nothing, his eyes were watching you back.
“you know something?” he closed the comic and leaned back better in the chair. “you are like the coolest person i have ever met”
you were completely caught off guard by the compliment, one that would’ve sounded cheap coming from anyone else, but from him felt like one of the sweetest things you’d ever heard. you blushed and shook your head, embarrassed. he didn’t take it back, though.
“do you wanna try?” he had once said he’d never smoked, but the curious look in his eyes now suggested he might be tempted.
“i-i don’t know if i should…”
“well, it’s not a crime”
you finished for him, leaning forward and extending your hand to pass the burning tobacco, watching him take it carefully, his eyes flicking from your face to the cigarette and back. “relax… inhale slowly and breathe calmly when the smoke gets about here” you pointed to his throat.
“promise you won’t laugh if i cough?”
he did as you said, squeezing his eyes shut when they watered, managing a tiny drag before releasing the smoke, lips pressed together and brow furrowed.
“wow… like a pro, huh?” he handed it back to you, laughing hoarsely.
“i guess it’s because my mom made me use an inhaler every day when i was little” he added casually, and that made you burst out laughing, not because you were mocking him, but because it was such a jake thing to say, like he hadn’t looked insanely hot just seconds ago exhaling smoke.
“good boy… that’s better for your health” you said simply, taking another drag before scrolling through your phone on the small table.
“why do you smoke then?” he asked, pretending not to care about the praise you’d thrown at him, sinking deeper into his chair while watching you.
“got to keep it cool for you i guess…” you taunted, using the word he’d said earlier, making him laugh softly and kick your chair.
***
and of course, there was the complicated part too.
the library job itself wasn’t hard, that was the best thing about it. people rarely asked for help beyond reservations. most of the regulars knew exactly what they wanted, how long they’d stay. it was the easiest job in the world.
it hadn’t happened out of nowhere too. it started after two girls noticed him while he was fixing the flyers on the shelves. they practically melted when he hurried to help one of them pick up the pencils that had fallen from her case after he accidentally bumped into her.
you couldn’t even blame them. he really was… something.
after that, of course they started coming back more often. and not just them, a few other girls too. they’d stop by the counter asking random questions, clearly annoyed when you were the one answering while jake just stood beside you nodding along. some of the bolder ones would lean over the wooden counter when you were alone and ask if you knew where the “cute employee” was.
“have you tried the law section? he had some books to shelve there” you’d say flatly, not even bothering to look her in the eye.
“yeah… maybe he went on break?”
“maybe” you’d shrug, unimpressed.
“i really needed to talk to him, he recommended a game earlier but i forgot the name… do you perhaps have his number so you could pass it to me?”
you’d let a small smile tug at your lips before finally looking up at her, raising your brows in a way that made your shock at the audacity very clear and enough for her to shift awkwardly, mutter a quiet “whatever” and walk away.
“i’m back, did i miss anything?” you’d hear a few minutes later, jake sitting by your side and already splitting the stack of books to catalog together.
“nothing at all.”
and in moments like that, you felt so selfish it hurted.
it was almost impossible that jake felt anything beyond the happiness of having a friend at work instead of just someone to exchange half-words with. for you, liking someone so out of your league felt ridiculous. he was different, smart, beautiful, too kind for his own good, so you didn’t try.
but you weren’t about to hand him over to the competition either.
***
after all, being jake’s friend wasn’t hard. you had learned how to listen to his monologues, and in return he’d gotten scarily good at reading every single one of your moods just by the look on your face. you talked about everything… well, almost everything. he didn’t exactly have much experience, and you were actively avoiding romantic topics after your last thing with a jackass you’d met at some indie bar.
after two months, all your friends knew about him, and all his friends knew about you. by the third month, you’d installed a few casual games just to play with him on discord calls, and he’d even bought some cds from bands you liked so you could listen to them together.
and still, you rarely hung out outside of work.
maybe because you saw each other every single day.
so you were genuinely surprised when he invited you somewhere.
“a friend invited me to a party” he brought it up while you were both dusting the tables before the shift ended. “i said i’d think about it. i get kinda lost in those environments, i don’t know…” he said, eyes still lowered.
“have you ever been to one?”
“no” he answered immediately before looking at you. “will you go with me” he added quickly, the words spilling out like if he didn’t throw them up right then they’d get stuck in his throat forever without the courage to actually exist.
“is that an invitation or a demand?” you joked, lifting your gaze to him and catching the way he inhaled sharply before managing to answer.
“i’m begging actually… please?” he pressed his lips into a thin line and straightened his posture, holding the dust cloth stiffly at his side. oh. he was serious.
“i’ll have to check my schedule…” you sighed dramatically, putting on a brief little act just to watch his shoulders slump again, like a puppy getting tired of waiting for its owner to throw the ball. you laughed when you looked at him again and found him still staring. “just kidding. send me the details” finally said, watching his face light up instantly. “and you’re washing the cloths this time!” you tossed the rag in his direction. jake caught it midair with a soft nasal laugh and looked at you quietly, that strange little sense of victory blooming in his chest.
***
the atmosphere of the party was a sensory shock. the air, saturated with the smell of cheap beer, chlorine, and the sweet vapor of vapes, felt heavy in your lungs as you tried to make your way through bodies. you had expected something lowkey, maybe a bunch of nerds debating rpg mechanics on a couch, not that the friend in question would be the fucking evan lee, aka the most desired guy on campus for countless reasons, including the fact that his parties were always a straight-up project x knockoff.
his house looked like a human anthill. the dj, clearly high, distorted the bass until it vibrated through the structure of the place, and every scream coming from the beer pong table or the crowd watching bottle-flip challenges seemed to crank the temperature higher. people sprawled over couches and bean bags, others making out in hallways, girls in micro shorts and bikinis. everything in excessive amounts.
you couldn’t lie, you’d been to plenty of these. way before college, actually, when your high school friend group would lie to their parents about sleepovers for “early projects” and end up in random basements of houses owned by people you’d never seen before. but ever since a bit of common sense had finally settled in your brain, you preferred cover gigs, bars, clubs. here, under the led lights and the frenzy of campus popularity - where you recognized more faces than you’d like - everything felt too loud.
you checked your phone again in his chat, making sure there were no new messages.
[jake🤓🐶]: im already here
[you]: wtf? ur being dead serious?
[jake🤓🐶]: yes... why? it was saying 11pm
[you]: i know but parties like this never start at the right time
[jake🤓🐶]: but like are you coming already?
[you]: in 30min??? im doing my makeup
[jake🤓🐶]: by then my anxiety will have eaten me alive, i’ll have a breakdown, collapse, hit my head and die of cranial trauma
[you]: boooo👎🏻 stop that, crybaby
your eyes scanned the pool area, water splashing rhythmically whenever someone jumped in, then drifted back inside the house searching for that familiar silhouette: hair pushed back, shoulders slightly curved. it was impossible not to feel a pinch of anxiety too; the idea of jake, with his golden retriever energy and slipping glasses, loose in that sea of social sharks was almost concerning. you stepped up on a stair to get a better view of the backyard, ignoring some guy who smelled like straight tequila bumping into you.
and then you saw him.
in a more isolated corner of the veranda, away from the epicenter of the dance floor but still swallowed by the buzz, jake stood near a snack table. he looked like a cute island of discomfort. he held a red cup with both hands like it was a shield in front of his chest and talked to a guy who clearly just wanted access to the pretzel bowl.
even from afar you noticed that there was a damp stain on the shoulder of his shirt - probably from someone spilling a drink - and in an automatic gesture he pushed his glasses up with his wrist while starting to gesture, possibly explaining the aerodynamics of a bullet dive to absolutely no one in particular, just because that was the only strategy his brain had developed for when he got nervous.
the chaos of the party seemed to lower its volume the moment you spotted him. he was, without a doubt, the most out-of-place thing there, and for you, the only one that made sense to look for.
you walked through the crowd and loud laughter until you reached the boy, and when jake’s eyes finally found yours, the brightness that burst out of them was instant. relief mixed with astonishment. the random trapped in the physics monologue didn’t even say goodbye; he just took the opening and disappeared.
jake looked you up and down, swallowing hard as he processed the image. at the library, you were the flare jeans and sneakers and customized shoes girl. but here, under the erratic party lights, you looked like something else entirely. the skirt, the spiked belt, the fuzzy animal print jacket outlining your body. it short-circuited his brain.
took him a full minute to process your “hi” and when he finally reacted, he leaned in with clumsy urgency to leave a quick kiss on your cheek, his face heating up at the scent of your perfume.
“you look gorg-” he started, only to be interrupted by a group passing behind you carrying a massive bucket of ice, forcing you to step forward with an awkward smile. the space between you vanished, leaving you almost pressed against his chest; the poor boy lost every ounce of ability to finish his sentence.
“idiots…” you muttered under your breath, stepping back once they disappeared through the sliding doors. “anyway, why didn’t you tell me your friend was the evan lee?” you looked up at him, arms crossed.
“i tutor him on wednesdays… he’s not really a friend friend” he explained, his voice coming out a little rougher than usual.
jake tried to maintain eye contact, but the proximity was a trap; his gaze dropped involuntarily to your cleavage before he forced it away, releasing a heavy breath like he was trying to remember literally anything other than the fact that for the first time in his life he felt a very physical urge to touch something.
“i don’t know…” he admitted shyly. “truth is, i don’t really know anyone here… i don’t even know what i’m supposed to do” his tone was low, only you could hear it over the music.
that vulnerability was the dirty hit. jake was unbearably lovable exactly because of that innocence. he wasn’t one of those guys who filled their phone storage collecting random girls’ nudes, nor was he the smelly nerd who forgot basic hygiene in the name of academic decathlons. he was clean, smelled good, ridiculously handsome, and had this genuine purity about the trivialities of social life that made you want to protect him from everything. seeing him there, so misplaced and so honest, made your heart jolt.
you were fucked.
you bit your lower lip, internally debating whether to just kiss him already and ruin any chance of preserving the friendship, or show him how to actually enjoy the party since you were already there and finals would start in two weeks. another excuse for the two of you to unwind a little.
“well… you don’t wanna go home yet, right?” you pouted slightly, tilting your head as he quickly shook his. “then let’s grab some drinks” you grabbed the denim jacket he was wearing and pulled.
you had a determined smile on your lips while jake let out endless “sorry” “excuse me” “my bad” like he was asking permission from the air itself to exist, as you crossed the packed living room until you reached the improvised bar in what looked like lee’s parents’ small wine cellar.
you scanned the menu written on cardboard with a disturbing amount of glitter and nudged his arm, encouraging him to pick one of the suspiciously named drinks. he alternated his gaze between the colorful letters and your face, laughing in pure indecision, genuinely grateful that you took the lead and chose for both of you.
the song blasting was straight 2000s pop nostalgia, making you sway lightly without caring, aware of his shy glances dropping to your hips, caught by the movement of your skirt and the metal details of your belt. jenny by studio killers was playing somewhere in the background and your ego mocked you internally.
jake’s head was an absolute mess of sensations. the denim jacket suddenly felt too warm over his shirt; the loud music made his organs vibrate in a rhythm he couldn’t predict; the inevitable brushing of sweaty skin against strangers… and most of all, you, in that damn outfit outlining every curve and doing violent things to his imagination, challenging the logic of just coworkers.
when the drinks were ready, you lifted your plastic cup with a casual “cheers” taking a long sip and watching over the rim as jake tried to imitate you, only to pull the most priceless grimace seconds later.
“okay. what the fuck is in this?” he coughed, throat burning.
“you don’t wanna know” you laughed, already feeling the light buzz hit your empty stomach.
and as if the stimulation wasn’t enough, seconds later jake felt a sudden weight on his shoulders. none other than evan appeared, clearly deep into drunken territory but radiating that captive energy of someone who owned the house and half the campus.
“heyy, if it isn’t my boy and… with a hot girl?! wow, i knew you had potential, jakey, but not this much…” he said to jake without taking his eyes off you; a crooked smile forming as he shamelessly stared at your cleavage and the pendants resting between your breasts. “wait, i know you, right? yn from anthropology… you called mr. nero sexist or something in the first week! holy shit!”
evan laughed loudly, beer breath hitting jake straight in the face, making his eyes water from the sting. he leaned his weight against the nerd’s shoulder to avoid collapsing, the bottle in his hand threatening to slip as he swayed.
“damn… you hit the jackpot, buddy…” he looked at jake, who stared at the situation with slightly furrowed brows, caught between embarrassment and confusion. “you know what they say… the ones who hate men are the best in bed”
he whispered it in what he clearly thought was a low tone, but it landed directly in both your ears.
jake’s ears burned a violent shade of red, the raw bluntness of the drunk comment hitting his shyness dead center. he was not subtle. evan chuckled, ruffled jake’s brown hair messily, and staggered away, but not before throwing you a wink.
the silence left between you and jake was palpable, loaded with a new, strange vulnerability that the comment had dragged. he stood frozen, unsure where to look, feeling the weight of that insinuation hovering between your spiked belt and his glasses. you held each other’s gaze for a few seconds, the bold words still floating in the air. then you, either to break the tension or to deal with the sudden heat crawling up your own neck, tipped back the rest of your drink in one sharp motion, nodding for jake to do the same before turning to order another round from the girl behind the counter.
***
the two of you were already on the fourth drink each, alternating between sips of that indecipherable mix and observations about the ecosystem of the party. you shared some random gossip about the people walking by, standing on your tiptoes to whisper into his ear; the warmth of your voice and the sudden proximity made jake bite his lower lip, keeping the corner of his eyes on you. at times, you steadied yourself with your palm pressed against his abdomen, feeling the firmness beneath his shirt, especially now that your balance was beginning to float and the floor seemed slightly tilted.
jake widened his eyes at every touch, and the urge to hold you by the waist was automatic whenever your legs faltered, his hands hovering in the air before settling the touch, making you laugh to yourself at the exaggerated care.
"you good there?" he asked quietly, bending his body to be able to look at you up close.
"i'm fiiine" you confirmed cheerfully, trying to rise above the volume of the music and failing; obviously.
you wondered - in some part of your consciousness that drifted far from reality sometimes - why he still seemed so under control. maybe he was one of those guys with strong genes for alcohol, who would take centuries to completely loosen up.
you looked at him with a silent challenge and then, after placing your cup on the counter and taking his from his hand doing the same, you grabbed the boy's arm with determination. taking a few steps back, pulling him out of the safe little corner where he was leaning.
"you know what? i think there's one last thing missing for you to fully experience a college party..."
jake looked without understanding, giving in very reluctantly while his feet were dragged by yours.
"yn, i think we've already overdone it..." he denied smiling, that smile of someone who is about to be convinced to do something reckless.
"uhm uhm" you shook your head, the expression in your face being the same as a mischievous child. "you're going to dance with me first..."
"oh… no no no" he refused placing his hand gently over yours trying to pull away. "i'm terrible at these things"
"pretty please? it'll be just a little..." you pouted and he froze.
and for god's sake, jake stuttered with the air he breathed, feeling his own fingers tighten on the hem of his jacket, his heart stopped and came back irregularly. he followed you, half uncertain, half hypnotized, to the center where the bodies danced and where disco lights, colored lasers and tutti-frutti scented smoke wrapped around everything.
"i've never danced like this..." the brunette looked around trying to find any example he could use to imitate, but none of that was possible, in public even less.
"just feel the music..." you urged, disappearing a little more into that human wave, while jake was sucked into the whirlwind that was being by your side.
and when you started dancing, for him, it was as if the world around lost focus and slowed down just so he could watch that scene.
you were so freaking beautiful.
blue and yellow beams cut through the dimness, lighting up your face, your makeup and the shine of your piercings, which became small sparkling blurs thanks to his nearsightedness, since his glasses insisted on not cooperating in that stuffy humidity.
his tense jaw from before dropped a little, his hands inert at his sides while he watched the sensual way you moved.
your fingers traced from your hip up to your neck in a fluid gesture, and when your eyes closed and you tilted your head back, jake felt the air in his lungs thinning. it was then that you took the final step: you grabbed his wrists and brought him into an unimaginable nearness, guiding his hands - which were sweating with anticipation - so that they fixed on your waist, following every movement you made.
your hand moved up his shirt until it reached the collar, curling your fingers there with a possessiveness that made him lose the ground. you pulled him down, forcing him to bend his posture until your faces were dangerously close, to the point that he could feel your breath and the scent of the drink mixed with your smell.
"imagine it's just me and you" you whispered, but the lip reading and the intention were so evident that he didn't need sound to understand.
jake nodded instinctively, his heart beating so hard that he was sure you could feel it through the layers of clothing. in that moment, logic, algebra studies and paralyzing shyness were replaced by something new; desire, in its most primitive form. his fingers closed with a little more strength on you, and he stopped fighting the environment. under the effect of the lasers and the absurd enclosure, his 'little world' reduced itself to the square meter where you brushed against each other to the beat of the music.
***
song after song, the minutes got lost between little comments and bass, sentences left hanging in the air, with no importance whatsoever compared to what was happening on a carnal level. jake was no longer just a spectator he moved with you, in sync, one of his thighs positioned between your legs while he felt his head spiral with the way you intentionally grinded, challenging every ounce of self-control he had left.
in an impulsive movement, thanks to a courage he didn’t even know where it came from, he made you turn your back to him, pressing your lower back against him; if his body were a machine, it would be in a critical state of overheating. his lips, damp and warm, brushed against your neck in a shy graze that soon became more provocative, while his thumbs slipped under your shirt from below, mapping your waist and feeling the unfair way your ass rubbed against his covered cock. jake was rock hard in there, even panting, his vision blurred and his judgment completely clouded.
"yn..." he murmured your name like it was a prayer or a cry for help.
he lost count of how many times the thought of kissing you crossed his mind, and he internally tormented himself for not being able to look away from your cleavage, which became even more exposed with the friction of your bodies. he tried shaking his head to chase the ideas away, pushing his glasses up with a trembling finger and wiping the sweat from the corners of his eyes, but he was surrendered. all it would take was for you to turn to him with those spoiled eyes and he would give up resisting.
"i wanted to do something..." you admitted, turning back to face him, pressing yourself against him to wrap your arms around his neck. "but i would hate if you ended up hating me for it" the words came out like a breath against his skin. jake paid attention, the world outside slowly ceasing to exist.
"i would never hate you" he laughed, biting his lower lip as usual while staring at you.
"are you sure? what if you"
you didn’t even get to finish. driven by a desperate decision, he himself ended the short distance between you in a brief seal, a touch of lips that lasted only a second before he pulled back slightly, looking at you for approval and dying of fear of your reaction.
"sorry, yn, i-i"
but you didn’t give space for the apology. you slid your hands from the back of his neck to his face, holding the boy’s cheeks and kissing him for real.
holy fuck
jake numbed. his wide eyes behind the lenses took at least five seconds to close, his brain processing that this wasn’t an alcohol-induced delusion. it took him even longer to relax his tense posture, but when he finally did, it was like a dam breaking.
his hands slid down urgently to your ass, squeezing it while his slender body curved over yours, giving in to the rhythm you dictated. when you deepened the kiss, asking for his tongue, jake let out a low sound in his throat, a mix of surprise and total surrender.
your mouths clashed in a needy, messy kiss that had been stored away for months, a tension accumulated between bookstore shelves that finally exploded. jake bit your lower lip with an urgency you didn’t expect, before tilting his head to the side and fitting the kiss perfectly against yours; it was sloppy, full of saliva, even starting to drip. you let out small sniffles, feeling your body soften in his arms. he definitely didn’t kiss like a nerd and there was no way to tell if he was just learning fast under pressure or if he had been hiding that talent all along.
you only pulled apart when someone, in a hard shove, hit his shoulder, making your teeth clash together. the scare disconnected your swollen lips, leaving you both staring at each other under the strobe lights, breathless. the air between you was heavy, dense, and neither of you wanted to stop yet.
"let’s go to my place..." you asked, your fingers still tangled in his hair, subtly pulling him closer; if that was even possible.
jake didn’t argue. there was no logical analysis, no concern about the time or what his dormmate would think since he was always home by 11pm at the latest.. he just held your hand and pulled you through the crowd until you found the house’s exit.
the cool night air hit your faces, but the desire still burned. you didn’t even know it, but jake had a scooter parked nearby; a small bike in coffee tones that, strangely enough, looked just like him.
he guided you to where the vehicle was and you couldn’t hold back a laugh.
"what?" he asked, looking over his shoulder while opening the compartment to grab an extra helmet for you.
"isn’t this way too imprudent, mr. jake sim?" you teased, amused, watching him approach.
jake didn’t answer immediately. he stopped in front of you, focusing on putting the helmet on your head, fastening the buckle with almost surgical care. his face was serious, concentrated, but that broke when he held your chin tilting your head a little to look up.
"as if you cared about prudence, miss" he finally replied, in a friendly tone, shrugging and making you raise an eyebrow.
the silent confidence that the alcohol and the kiss had brought him made you want to shove your entire wrist into your mouth. he still helped you get on the back seat and murmured for you to hold on properly which didn’t even take a second to happen, you wrapping your arms around his waist, playfully sliding your restless fingers over the fabric of his plain shirt, feeling his abdomen contract under your touch. jake knew the way. he had the address memorized since the day he offered to lend you his father’s record player. he felt unrecognizable, completely tamed by the need to have you, almost impatient, while you, feeling the wind hit your face and the warmth of his body between your arms, could only regret that your house was ten minutes away and not on the next block.
***
you stumbled in your boots on the stairs, the sound of your heels echoing through the quiet hallway until you finally reached the door of your apartment. you felt your fingers loose, a side effect of the liquor you had downed without thinking earlier, but it was the presence of the boy right behind that truly made you dizzy. when you finally managed to turn the key, you pulled him inside by the wrist in an impatient movement, tossing your bag into some random corner and his jacket into another.
you fell sitting on the edge of the bed when your calves hit it, and you saw jake kneel in front of you without you having to ask. he helped you with the laces of your shoes, his long and agile fingers undoing the complex knots with surprising skill, as if he were solving one of his magic cubes.
by that point, jake looked like a dream in your field of vision; his image was blurred because of the drunkenness, but the tension growing in your womb was very real. needy, you pulled him so he climbed onto the bed and, in a quick movement, switched positions, pulling a surprised gasp from him when you settled onto his lap.
"w-wait..." he tangled in his words, but you didn’t give him time, kissing him again with voracity.
"i fucking can't..." you mewled against the boy’s lips before asking for entrance with your tongue again.
the kiss was deep and deliciously clumsy, hands roaming over bodies that were still discovering each other. jake groped your skin, testing where to touch you and how to grab you, and you responded by lightly scratching his skin with the tips of your nails when you slipped your fingers into the waistband of his jeans, trying to pull the fabric down.
"take it off..." you murmured with a weak but commanding voice, which made jake swallow hard, his adam’s apple jumping in his throat.
"yn, i've never..." his sentence made you stop for a few seconds.
you interrupted the kisses that were now trailing down his sensitive neck, placing your hands on his firm chest and staring at him from above with a pleading expression, your eyes heavy with lust.
"you can tell me to stop then, ikeu..." you challenged in a whisper.
jake couldn’t stop even if his life depended on it. you were too much for him, a force of nature he had no way and no wish to contain. in response, he just pulled you into another urgent kiss, holding the back of your neck. he broke the seal only for a moment to look down, his trembling hands helping with the button and zipper of his own pants. and you moved like a cat in heat on top of him, eager to slide the fabric down his long legs.
your lips traced a trail of fire brushing from his collarbone down to his lightly sculpted abdomen, nibbling the pale skin and licking slowly, feeling the larger body tense. when you reached his pelvis, feeling one of his veins pulse under your wet tongue, you sucked right there making the small moans that escaped him turn into a low groan.
jake looked at your arched body over him, your ass raised and the ends of your hair spread across the sheets, and he cursed softly in a tone you had never heard him use. he was above average, a doctor had once said, which always made him cautious, fearing that any advance would be... overwhelming. but the thought was cut off the second you squeezed him over his underwear, with a curiosity stripped of any hesitation.
"hmm.. big.." you commented, your voice melting, while sliding your hand along his entire length.
"a-h... i-it’s okay if you don’t want to... it can be a little uncomfortable... and i-i don’t mind, we can just..." the instinct to explain and protect activated, and he started talking nonstop, the words tripping.
but the explanation died in his throat when you licked him slowly through the fabric. jake rolled his eyes back, throwing his head against the pillow and feeling his toes curl.
"what do you mean? i like it like that..." you said, with a simplicity that almost destroyed him.
you began spreading wet kisses along his thighs, which instinctively parted to give you more space. meanwhile, your hand continued the work, stroking him over the cotton, which quickly began to darken and dampen where the head rubbed. jake pressed his lips together so tightly they turned white, closing his eyes to try to keep the little control he had left.
until... everything stopped.
the sudden silence was more deafening than the party music. jake, with his head sunk into one of your pillows, stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, waiting for the next touch, the next command, anything. but the only thing he received was the sound of your breathing, which had become strangely light.
he propped himself up on his elbows, his heart still hammering in his chest, and looked down. you were completely passed out, lips slightly parted, cheeks squished and lashes resting. your head lay heavily on one of his thighs, and your hand was still resting over his member, which pulsed and twitched insistently under your now motionless touch.
jake sank back into the bed, letting out a low muffled whine, covering his face with both hands. the realization hit with the weight of a ton: the way the night had escalated, the fact that he had almost let himself be carried away by desire even knowing how much you had drunk, and the perception that he was completely in love with you. the moral panic colliding with the physical frustration of a man. he stayed there, in absolute silence for several long minutes, frozen, afraid to move and wake you.
***
the next morning you woke up feeling like death itself. your hair was full of knots and apparently you had slept in such a crooked position that your neck was even burning with pain on one side. the makeup? printed onto the bed sheets and your clothes twisted on your body. a trail of drool also marked from the corner of your mouth down to your chin. but the worst part was the headache. it wasn’t just pain, it was like someone had personally poured liters and liters of water in there and it was hard even to keep your balance.
after you finally managed to take off your clothes and get into the shower, you stayed almost half an hour there under the warm water, cleaning your face and body, trying to come back down to earth. you remembered very little from the night before. you remembered arriving, drinking, pulling jake to dance and kissing… after that everything had turned into a blur. but judging by the fact that you were at home, he had probably given you a ride.
you left the bathroom wrapped in a towel and went to throw yourself onto the bed again; you would have to change the sheets anyway. you grabbed your phone from the nightstand and noticed the notifications, pulling them down to open.
[jake🤓🐶]: good morning… about yesterday… thank you for going with me to the party. we ended up overdoing it with the drinks and you passed out when we got to your house haha
[jake🤓🐶]: i locked your door and slid the key under it, so if you can’t find it just look on the floor…
[jake🤓🐶]: i looked it up and you’ll probably wake up feeling bad, so try to eat light things, drink plenty of water and sleep 👍🏻 text me if you need any medicine
[you]: hi. yeah, my head is about to explode… but it’s fine. thanks for worrying. hope it was fun for your first party
so no comments about what REALLY happened huh? you wanted to drag the conversation out, but your pride spoke louder, so you just decided you weren’t going to do that on a saturday morning. maybe jake was still processing everything, or maybe it just hadn’t meant anything. you felt a knot in your throat having flashes of the night, his mouth so soft against yours and the hands squeezing your waist, how could that not mean anything? you tossed and turned in bed, kicking your legs.
you got up and went to make something to eat and some chamomile tea to calm down. you spent the whole afternoon under the covers watching a show and only when the sun was setting you decided to get up and go to your computer. usually you and jake played together from that time on, but as soon as you logged into discord, entering the server you shared, ready to join the call where he was, apparently alone, he left; the little green circle around the icon disappeared and he changed his status to invisible. you gave an annoyed smile, squeezing the mouse in your hand.
had you done something beyond the kiss? actually, you clearly remembered that he had been the first to kiss you, regardless of whether the thought had crossed your mind before. you curled up in the chair and brought your finger to your mouth, biting the tip of your nail. your stomach churned, and you couldn’t tell if it was still because of the remnants of the alcohol or because you were feeling guilty and afraid you had ruined everything.
sunday was another day of zero contact. he didn’t even send you some random curiosity in the chat and you had already written and deleted countless attempts to call him. but what would you say? “hey sorry for ruining our friendship”?
in monday’s class your head was in the clouds, you didn’t even talk to your friends who were chatting about some pub they had gone to. you were irritated, if you couldn’t tap your mechanical pencil on the binder, you were biting your nails, and vice versa. you felt like you might die before it was time to go to work, but you didn’t, you just arrived late because you stayed fifteen minutes locked inside one of the college bathroom stalls, going over countless possibilities of what would happen when you saw each other in person.
when you walked in through the back door, heading to the staff room, you saw jake’s things already in the locker, meaning he would be at the counter when you went there. you put on your apron with difficulty and slipped your phone into your pocket before walking over.
jake had his back turned when you passed through the little wooden door, and he gave you a sideways glance, pressing his lips together and nodding… strangely quiet, no rambling about physics, about calculus, no news about superhero movies and games, not asking how your day had been. you felt your lunch come back up your esophagus, but you controlled yourself, sitting down just as silent, and for the first time in 3 months putting your headphones back on.
next to you, jake hunched his shoulders even more, pretending he was focused on reading the comic when his head couldn’t even put two sentences together because it was so overwhelmed with thoughts. he still felt horrible for thinking he had taken advantage of you… he had simply gone from someone with no experience at all to someone awfully bad. he didn’t feel entitled to be your friend anymore, or whatever you really were. his foot kept tapping against the chair support nonstop, making the rest of his body tremble a little. the tasks you used to do together, he split into a spreadsheet that would stay on the library computer. he would handle cleaning the tables, you would organize the counter. you cataloged the books and he shelved them, it was practical, you didn’t even have to talk.
***
a week passed like that. and by friday, both of you were a wreck. it was the first time you had seen jaeyun with dark circles under his eyes. when you were about to leave the locker room, you ran into him as he was coming in just to grab something.
“sorry” you said quietly.
“it’s okay, i’m sorry too,” he replied and then stepped aside, holding the door for you to pass.
you couldn’t even look at each other for more than half a second.
when the door closed you still stood there, staring at the little sign that read ‘staff only’, parting your lips thinking about saying that you didn’t want to keep going like this… that he could at least go back to talking, that you missed the way he talked about things you had zero curiosity about but ended up remembering because the sound of his voice was addicting, how you wanted to know about the games he was playing and if he had customized any other character to look like you…
“yn?” you heard, being pulled forcefully from your trance as jake opened the door again.
“jake…” you replied and looked at him, but nothing came out after that.
“can i get through?” he indicated, pointing down, you were standing in front blocking the way.
“can we talk?” you retorted, looking away and not noticing how at that exact moment the boy blushed and lowered his head.
“l-look, yn… i, i don’t know what to say. what ended up happening last week was a mistake, i admit it. it’s just that…” he said hurried and hesitant, even up close, avoiding you.
his words hit you right in the chest.
he thought it had been a mistake.
your heart hurt. if you had thought your poorly resolved one-night thing had been shitty, this was about to become your biggest trauma. you felt your eyes water, but you held back, smiling and swallowing hard, with difficulty.
“no, you are totally right. it was a mistake. and it won’t be repeated, i am really sorry”
“am i interrupting something?” you both heard a third voice coming from behind. clint approached holding a clipboard. “why is the central counter empty?”
“i was just heading there” jake answered quickly, nodding to the older man and looking at you one more time before leaving.
“and you, ms. yln? any problem?” the nasal voice turned to you.
“no. just… dust allergy” you lied, rubbing your nose with the back of your hand and sniffling before turning around.
***
you couldn’t take it anymore.
after that short and dry dialogue that had felt more like a sentence, everything stayed the same: another week of complete silence, tasks coldly divided and your music playing low in your headphones, in a ridiculous hope that he would start any kind of conversation with you during the afternoon. you were sure that quitting the job was the best thing to do; that way, the worlds that had once collided wouldn’t have to meet again.
you were at the dean’s office, waiting to be called in by mr. clint. you felt nervous, with the sensation that you might throw up at any moment as you stared at your own feet.
“you can come in” the secretary called.
you stood up and walked into the office, watching the old man close a file book and lift his gaze to you. you tightened the strap of your crossbody bag and remained standing.
“anything I can help you?” he went straight to the point.
“mr. clint, i needed to-”
“ah, before you say it, i need to ask you a favor” he cut you off, with a tired voice and demeanor of someone who had already exhausted all options and didn’t want to deal with the matter anymore. “i know you hate it, but i’m going to need you to take the night shift tomorrow. the guy who usually comes is sick”
you froze, mouth slightly open, completely stunned.
“do you think you can do it? want to tell me what brought you here first? if it’s about the new cart… finance still hasn’t released the funds”
there was an immediate internal conflict. maybe if you asked to leave next month… it would be a way to show respect to the job that had paid for your concerts and your clothes until now… it would also give you time to do interviews and find something somewhere else…
“no… it’s fine, i’ll do it” you confirmed with a faint, unenthusiastic smile. “great, i’ll confirm it with jaeyun too” he stood up, already grabbing his phone and walking out of the office, leaving you there with a bitter taste in your mouth.
***
the library at night took on a different vibe. the huge windows weren’t enough for the streetlights and the moon to illuminate the interior, leaving most of the aisles submerged in total darkness since the led lights focused only on the central and study areas. to make it worse, one of those winter rains was falling, the kind that starts slowly and promises to last all night, leaving the air icy. normal hours were until 7pm, which meant that from 8pm till 4am you would stay there with not much to do, just waiting for the moment to open the back gate for the cleaning staff, which consisted of two old ladies.
you arrived carrying a small bag with an energy drink and some sour candies to trick the sleep away. you stored your things in the locker and went back to the counter, feeling the cold crawl up your calves. you hadn’t even bothered to put on the apron, staying only in your tank top with a windbreaker over it. the manager was giving final instructions to jake while you finished adjusting yourself.
“if anything happens, call me or the police, alright?” it was just precaution, according to him, it wasn’t like the campus had some kind of book maniac.
as soon as the man left, the silence of the library seemed to triple in size. jake, without saying a single word, started cataloging some books, adjusting his glasses on his nose from time to time. he had switched the tasks, avoiding any activity that required him to stand still beside you at the counter.
you sighed and put on your headphones, but didn’t press play. you wanted to hear the sound of the rain… you opened a social media app and started scrolling without really seeing anything. the tension between you was like an elephant in the room, a heavy presence that made the air hard to breathe.
jake was only a few meters away, the desk lamp casting dramatic shadows across his face. he seemed more uneasy than usual, and the way he turned the pages was almost mechanical, stripped of that clumsy and goofy little way you loved so much about him. you sighed, feeling your stomach tighten. it was your last chance to understand why the boy who had kissed you so hungrily on the dance floor now acted like you were an unwanted ghost.
suddenly, a louder thunderclap made the windows vibrate. the library lights flickered violently, the filament of the old bulbs letting out a dry snap. jake stopped what he was doing, looking up and then at you. you kept your focus on your phone…
the truth was that those days had been the worst jake had ever faced in his life. worse than the bullying in high school or when he had fucked up his freshman year because he felt so out of place in a class with almost 100 people that he had simply stopped showing up for an entire month. and he swore he tried to understand, he had rationalized the situation in every possible way, he had even written a letter in his phone notes.
he had never felt that before, it was suffocating not to talk to you, not to hear your voice humming songs all afternoon or see your confused expression when he said something bizarrely scientific.
he wanted to comment on the storm outside. he wanted to say he found it interesting how the atmosphere could become a giant conductive plasma in a matter of milliseconds, as if the skies were trying to balance an unbalanced equation… like the two of you in that moment. he held himself back, squeezing the book in his hands, but as soon as he turned ready to say something, you suddenly stood up and grabbed the cart already full of books to shelve them.
of course, he had divided it that way.
jake sank into the chair and threw his head back, huffing and massaging his temples, where was he not understanding? why had everything gotten so strange? why didn’t you seem angry but sad?
you, on the other hand, couldn’t rationalize anything. you pushed the damn broken cart toward the romance section, grabbing three heavier books into your arms before pulling the small ladder to climb. you held on tight, going up at least three steps before starting to rearrange the stories to make space for the new ones.
a harsh flash tore across the sky, lighting up the library windows as if it were daytime, followed by a crack of electricity that seemed to whip against the walls. the thunder came right after, so loud the floor vibrated beneath your feet, and in the same instant, the hum of the machines and the artificial light died. the darkness that followed was absolute. you waited for the click of the emergency lights, but the silence continued.
“great” you muttered into the void. you hugged the books against your chest and felt along the metal ladder, trying to climb down carefully. the mistake was careless: the untied shoelace. as you tried to take the first step, your foot got caught and the world spun. you fell backward, your body hitting the ground with a dry impact while the ladder collapsed beside you with a deafening crash. in the middle of the fall, the back of your head struck one of the shelves behind you.
you let out a sharp groan, curling up on the cold floor. the pain was throbbing. you brought a hand to your head, feeling the spot of impact, praying you wouldn’t feel the sticky warmth of blood.
“yn? yn…!” jake’s shout came from the start of the aisle.
a beam of light appeared - a flashlight that stayed in the second drawer of the counter - and soon he was kneeling beside you, his face pale under the white light. he dropped the flashlight to the side and held your face with both hands, his fingers trembling.
“fuck, i’m sorry. so sorry! no, don’t do it! don’t move! if you hit the back of your head, you can’t turn your neck, the impact could’ve affected your spine or caused a displacement we can’t see! i’m calling an ambulance!”
you hissed in pain, but managed to grab his wrist before he dialed.
“calm down… it was just a fall” you murmured, your voice weak.
“do you have any idea how dangerous a concussion can be? the glasgow coma scale exists for a reason! if you show retrograde amnesia or cognitive dysfunction in the next few hours, that indicates a mild to moderate traumatic brain injury and-” he rambled, words fumbling over while he checked your pupils.
“jake!” you said louder, looking at him firmly despite the dizziness. “i’m fine, okay? just… help me up, please”
he stopped immediately, swallowing hard. silence returned for a few seconds while he helped you stand with almost sacred slowness. jake scanned every inch of your body looking for any other sign of injury, his arms hovering around your waist without quite touching, like an invisible protective barrier ready to catch you if you faltered. you lifted the ladder together and you tossed the dented books into the cart, noticing how he dusted his hands on his jeans, his eyes still fixed on you.
“are you sure you don’t want to go? i… they can come get you, i wouldn’t go with you, i wouldn’t bother you” he tried to reassure you. “seriously, i’m sorry. i should’ve taken that task, like i always do. if i hadn’t stepped away, you wouldn’t have”
the rambling started again and you gave a small smile before letting out a soft laugh, raising the white flag, almost in disbelief, lowering your gaze…
“what? what’s funny?” he asked, confused.
“you… the way you are” you answered, rubbing the sore back of your neck and taking a step to the side. “the fact that i had to go through a near-death experience to get you talking like before… when things were normal” your body swayed a little, but you supported yourself with your hand.
his shoulders dropped and he chewed on the inside of his cheek, thoughtful.
“i don’t get it…” he whispered.
“what don’t you get?” you looked up at him, your heart beating harder than the pain in your head. “tell me, jake, what got unclear between us? because if there’s anything i can do to change it, i’ll do it”. the words came out without permission, and you meant every single one of them, not backing down now even with the imminent urge to cry and the exhaustion of several badly slept nights.
jake sighed.
“that day… the party. i’ve never felt that way before, i’ve never felt the need to touch something or someone like that… it was almost… intoxicating, like i wasn’t in control…” he started slowly, still figuring out how to put his thoughts together. “and when we kissed… it was… it felt so right, you know? but then we went to your house and fuck… you were so hot, so determined, and so… my god, so drunk” he said almost whining. “you blacked out, and all i could think afterward was that i was really going to do that, even with you that drunk… and now, i feel like i don’t even deserve to be around you” he admitted, sniffling and adjusting his glasses.
you looked at him and then your gaze drifted to the space between you. that was what had happened and you didn’t remember it at all.
you tilted your head back and closed your eyes, covering your face with your hands and pressing.
“you thought i was mad?” you asked, just to fit the final missing piece into place.
“well… if you felt like i used you, wouldn’t that be the most likely outcome?” he shot back.
you laughed again, first softly and then almost crying. you looked at him once more and pressed your lips together.
“that day, jake, i wanted you more than anything” you said directly. “not just that day, but the day before and every moment, since the first day i saw you until just now…” you spoke with a lighter expression, watching through the movement of his eyebrows as jake tried to connect all the dots.
“so you didn’t think i was some kind of asshole?”
“that was the last thing i would ever think about you” you stepped forward and reached for his hand, looking down as you intertwined your fingers.
“yn…” he called one last time. “hm?” when you lifted your head, his eyes said enough.
***
at first your lips only brushed each other, a chaste kiss almost apologetic beginning slow. your bodies still kept a minimal distance, but jake soon took care of eliminating it by holding your wrist up, pulling you close to him, while his free arm finally wrapped completely around your waist. you melted right there, feeling all the negative feelings - the guilt, the silence, the doubt - fade like smoke as your muscles relaxed at the slightest touch. there was nothing in your mind that wasn’t him, him and him.
jake called your name, his voice hoarse and drawn out between your lips, but you denied any interruption, just continuing the seal, wanting to recover every lost second.
when he let go of your wrist, your hand went straight to his cheek, stroking the warm skin as you pulled him closer, wanting more depth.
“you’re not in pain…?” he tried to murmur, his voice failing.
“i don’t care…” you answered with absolute certainty, pulling back just enough to see him blush under the flashlight’s glow.
he looked so beautiful like that, disarmed. the kiss returned, but now it was more urgent, with more tongue and your nails slipping behind the collar of his shirt. jake’s hands lost their shyness slightly - without alcohol in his blood to help - moving up and down your back, mapping the sides of your body and dragging you by the hips until he pressed you against the bookshelf. the soft impact made the books vibrate and you let out a needy gasp that he swallowed. you bit his lower lip and sucked, feeling him shudder.
“i-i don’t want to stop this time” jake panted against your mouth, breath heavy.
“we’re not going to” you assured, exposing your neck to him as his mouth kissed the base of your throat.
jake’s tongue, slow and exploratory, licked the entire area, not caring about leaving a trail, not caring about the saliva or how your moans broke the decorum of the library. you tangled your fingers in the dark strands at the nape of his neck, pulling, squeezing his broad shoulder to steady yourself.
“shiit… do you know what you’re doing?” you asked, laughing softly between shivers.
“i have… no idea… just need you so fucking bad… why?”
“because it’s working…”
the raw confession was the trigger. he continued, pulling the sleeves of your sweatshirt down after opening the zipper with your help. little by little, the heavier pieces were forgotten on the cold library floor. jake slid his swollen mouth to one of your shoulders, leaving a bite there, climbing up your collarbones and chin as if he wanted to mark you entirely. he pulled your thigh on impulse to fit himself better against you, listening to every reaction you gave to what he was doing.
“show me how to do it… please…” he begged, pressing his forehead to yours, eyes shining with an intensity you had never seen, even in the dark. “i promise i’ll be good… so good to you…”
your head spun, brows furrowing as you kissed him again, almost animalistic. your tongues even slipped out of your mouths, his hands found your ass and squeezed. you lifted your hips slightly without any control, craving the contact. when you pulled apart again, you held onto him, bringing him with you. the darkness of the library was total, but you already knew that path by heart. you walked, tripping over each other, between kisses and anxious giggles, until you reached the counter again. you pushed his shoulders until the boy fell back seated in the chair, looking at you from there with his clothes bunched up.
you mounted the inviting lap and scattered little kisses across his face, until your mouth was near his ear to whisper. “don’t overthink… just do what you want… what do you want now?”
jake listened and his skin prickled… he placed his hands on your hips now intentionally and helped you in a slow back and forth, biting his lower lip hard. you nodded and kept going. “like this? do you want me to grind on you?” and the boy nodded repeatedly, holding back his moans as his member swelled even more inside his underwear.
“yeah..?” you nibbled his lobe, closing your eyes when your tight jeans and his pressed exactly where you needed, increasing the way you were riding him. you could feel your panties getting soaked, but even so you wasn’t giving more than this yet. you made sure to moan and scratch his arms, feeling his restless hands only stop when they reached your tits, squeezing hard and pulling little mewls from you.
“pl… y-yn, please…” he babbled. jake was a thread away from coming undone inside his pants and deep down you really wanted that… especially if it meant he would be all embarrassed afterward, but you stopped, just as affected as he was, sliding down until you were on your knees in front of him.
locking your gaze with his, you waited for him to lift his hips to help you with his jeans, pulling them down and tossing them aside. the white boxer deliciously failed to hide his cock slick with pre-cum. you only lowered the waistband, letting the hard length spring free, hitting against his abdomen. it was too big… the veins pulsed and his tip was an intensely flushed pink from how aroused he was. you spat into your palm and brought it to him, sliding from head to base, squeezing his soft balls with the other hand, watching him make a pitiful little face with his mouth parted.
“want me to suck you off?” you asked mischievously, mimicking his expression.
“mhmm. yes. yes, please…” he begged, trembling at every stroke of your hand that struggled to close fully around him because of the thickness.
you kept masturbating him for a while longer, watching jake alternate between gripping his own shirt and the arms of the chair, knuckles white from the force. what did he have to do for you to finally put your precious little mouth on him? he was going insane.
in a slightly rough and clumsy movement – purely survival - he grabbed your head, pushing you down and lifting his pelvis in a thrust, making you smile satisfied between his fingers. that was exactly how you wanted to teach him.
you opened your mouth and reached him, wrapping around the head first before sliding him further inside, feeling the corners of your lips burn as you had to force yourself to fit him entirely. jake uttered something unintelligible, his head falling back and eyes rolling before he himself began to set the pace, fingers tangling in your hair with new firmness. he felt your warm breath against his pubis; when he looked down he saw your little face all puffed up while taking him.
shit. shit. he was not god’s strongest soldier. you choked when he brushed against the inner wall of your throat, drooling even more over him and forcing yourself to keep the movement while grabbing one of his thighs, taking out the lack of air on the firm flesh. the sounds you made were downright pornographic, echoing in the silence of the library and making jake’s blood boil.
***
when you were taking him more easily - adjusted to his size -, he lowered one of his hands, wrapping it around your neck with care but possessiveness, feeling exactly how deep he was reaching.
he was hypnotized by the sight: the mix of saliva and pre-cum spilling from your mouth, your pretty doe eyes rolling back and the tears of effort shining at the corners of your lashes.
“f-uck i’m coming…” he gasped, body curling as he clenched his teeth, forcing you further down on him while his pelvis lifted without rhythm, just need.
and you took it, everything he had to give.
cock so thick it pressed against the little bell of your soft palate, his pubis rubbing against your nose every time he thrusted upwards. your pussy fluttered just from that, hardened nipples brushing against your bra and your nails digging into him.
he came spilling cum down your throat, which you swallowed with eagerness, the excess slipping out, smearing your chin, your hands… even dribbling a little from your nose when you coughed because of your gag reflex sore and abused. it took him a few seconds to remove his hand from your head, letting you rise and slide his cock out again. you breathed fast, wiping your mouth uselessly with the back of your hand.
“sorry…” he breathed hoarsely, but you shook your head as you looked at him, rising again to kiss him.
“you did well…” you praised, feeling him smile.
“want to return the favor…” he sniffed softly, sliding his hands to your waist and pulling you up so you both stood.
jake unbuttoned your pants smoothly helping you kick the fabric aside after. he surprised you when he lifted you up effortlessly, setting you on the counter quickly. you kissed while he searched for your pussy to massage over your panties. he rubbed where it was wet, drawing muffled little moans from you, but it was when you placed your hand over his, guiding the movement, making him use his thumb over your swollen, covered clit that he had you writhing.
he watched closely, the way you had to break the kiss just to squirm and moan while guiding him, and especially how, whenever he pressed that swollen spot, your back arched; he was a fast learner. jake sat down again, pulling you to the edge of the counter, holding one of your heels and placing it up there to have you spread wide. he didn’t know anything about the practicality of it, he just knew what he wanted and that he’d figure it out.
more attentive to how your wet pussy had chewed the cotton fabric between your small lips before pushing the panties aside, staring shamelessly at the slick, pulsing cunt in front of him. “it’s so pretty…” he said before placing a slow kiss, enough to make his mouth wet. “tell me if i do something wrong…” he added before looking up at you from there and sinking his mouth into you.
the first licks were almost exploratory, as if he were mapping unknown territory. he tested every texture with devoted curiosity: the firmer flesh of your mound, the soft inner lips ready to slide, the entrance that clenched at the slightest touch. but when his tongue found your clit, the smooth, slippery texture made him let out a low sound of approval.
he opened his mouth wide, taking in as much as he could before sucking greedily, as if savoring a juicy fruit. when he pulled back, the slick sound of wet skin echoed in the silence of the library, a damp noise that made your lower belly throb. he repeated the motion, gaining confidence, until he stretched his tongue and tried going deeper, using the curious muscle to push into your channel while swallowing every drop of lubrication you poured over him. “taste m’so good…”
jake lifted his eyes, looking at you from behind his lenses - now crooked - only when he felt the weight of your hand in his hair, guiding him.
using his own fingers to spread the flesh and expose your most sensitive point, he captured your clit, sucking it firmly and continuously, the tip of his tongue flicking and swirling over your sensitive bud as you muffled a cry by biting your own wrist.
he flattened his tongue, moving it from bottom to top and side to side, letting the little bead drag across the muscle before returning to suck with intensity. the suction grew rhythmic, noisy, you cursed through your teeth and let out drawn-out moans, feeling your stomach tighten as you pulled his hair.
“j-jake… hhmm…” your whole body trembled while he lost himself between your legs, oblivious to anything else around. “let’s fuck.. hnng please…”
the sweet little sound when he detached his mouth from your cunt and lifted his head, slightly dazed, looking at you in confusion, almost made you change your mind. “already? i wanted… you to cum too” his eyes studied your expression while his fingers still played with your sex.
“i want to cum… but it’s going to be on your cock” you told him, sliding off the counter with his help.
you took off your shirt and unclasped your bra, watching him pull his shirt off as well, both of you completely naked. you climbed back onto his lap and smiled, kissing him slowly. “you did so well… your mouth felt so good…” you praised, noses brushing while one hand slipped between your bodies to hold him, aligning him with your entrance.
“wanted to taste you more...” his head swam, your flavor clinging to every taste bud, every one of his senses utterly consumed by you.
“you’ll have plenty of chances to do that…” you whispered, before lowering your weight and taking him halfway in at once.
jake seemed to fall apart the exact second he felt your pussy envelop him. the sensation was overwhelming, hot, slick, absurdly tight. your walls fluttered repeatedly, hands digging into his shoulders as you tried to accommodate every inch while he huffed, air leaving his lungs as if he’d just run a marathon. his moans were low, heavy with a pleasure that bordered on agony.
“fu… you’re so tight” he whimpered, voice breaking. jake couldn’t even keep his head up, resting it against yours while his arms circled your waist as if you were the only thing keeping him conscious.
you had never felt so complete. he filled every space, every curve of your spongy walls. wrapping your arms around his neck, you forced yourself to sink the rest of the way down, taking him fully. your eyes rolled back and a long moan slipped out when you felt his head press against your cervix in that position.
“f-funcking big… god…” you panted, trying to relax your muscles so you could start moving.
slowly, you began to move your hips up and down. it was a delicious torture to feel your silken folds dragging along his entire length, completely stretched. he murmured incoherent things against the curve of your neck, pulling air through his teeth in a sharp hiss.
feeling you needed more stability, you guided his large hands to your thighs, whispering for him to help you bounce.
his touch changed instantly. jake gripped your thighs firmly, fingers digging into your skin, starting to thrust your hips up and down. the slow rhythm was replaced with something steadier. each time you dropped down hard, the sound of bodies meeting echoed in the empty place, mixing with the rain outside. jake was in a trance, glasses fogged and face buried against you.
his restless mouth slid to one of your hardened nipples, sucking and making you whine softly. the loud plap plap plap and your clit striking hard against his base left you disoriented.
with every thrust you both unraveled more, jake turning into a babbling mess while you impaled yourself on the hard length, biting your lower lip to control the noise, gripping the edge of the counter and rolling your hips, making him hit your g-spot every time. you were goosebumped, sweaty, breathless, holding his face so he would look at you.
“do you want to cum inside? h-hmm?” you asked with difficulty, watching him nod desperately. “use your words”
“yes, ma’am hnng… i… please. cum-ng i-inside”
“g-good boy” you said before claiming his lips again, dropping down on him with vigor, making the chair springs squeak each time.
when you came together, jake’s whole body went rigid, holding you tight against his lap as he poured every drop of semen inside you. your arms and thighs trembling as you held onto him.
your ragged breathing taking time to settle.
jake was sweaty and marked with nail scratches, his mouth swollen and raw from so much biting. you weren’t much different, strands of hair stuck to your face, neck, shoulders… your neck covered in hickeys he’d left without even noticing and your lower belly aching.
even when you relaxed, you made no move to get off him, and he didn’t mind. the boy inhaled deeply before kissing your cheek, as if calling you to look at him. and when you did, he was there again with that mastered lost-puppy expression.
“what?” you asked with a tired smile.
jake looked up, thinking, then back at you, giggling a little.
“did you know the human heart produces enough energy to drive a truck for 30 kilometers in a day?” his smile widened and he laughed, making you look at him comically. “it’s just… my heart is beating so fast right now i think it could cross the country” he finished, burying his face in your neck again. “in other words…”
he took a deep breath, going quiet for a moment.
“i think i love you”
he confessed, making your cheeks lift, grateful for the darkness so he couldn’t see how embarrassed you were.
“well… you’d have to beat me in a race first, and i’m pretty sure you’d lose…” you replied simply, shrugging as he lifted his head to narrow his eyes at you mischievously.
𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: park sunghoon, campus playboy, is notorious for fucking around. the day you’ve dreaded has finally come, he makes his rounds on your roommate who’s been desperate to get him in her bed but what you don’t expect is for him to want you instead. campus life was just a series of fleeting connections until he found you— the nerdy girl he can’t get out of his head, now, it’s you who he can’t forget, it’s you he wants to be known for, it’s you he wants to belong to.
𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: smut, fluff, angst, opposites attract, college au
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: explicit sexual content, rough sex, dirty talk, spanking, biting, breath play, choking, slapping, orgasm denial/control, praise kink, dirty talk, oral sex (giving and receiving), fingering, very hard dom!hoon, sub!reader, consistent unprotected sex (be safe!), use of ‘baby’ and ‘good girl’, grinding, reader rides hoon, exhibitionism, intense emotional dynamics, strong language, and explicit content, explicit language, swearing, mention of drugs, smoking, alcohol, a lot of college party scenes, oc is uninterested in sunghoon at first but he changes that (and quickly!), mentions of fuckboy!sunghoon, initially fucks her roommate, but falls in love with yn’s stuff that’s around the apartment, himym!scene inspo, if you know you know, oc is a hot bassist in a band, hoon sees her play, gets hard and turned on seeing her play the strings with her fingers, imagines touching her, hoon and oc unexpectedly have the exact same matching tattoo, so many girl moments, kpop ‘00 liners, enhypen ‘02 line, sunwoo, eric, yeji and oc are in a band, inappropriate, mature humor, hoon is very forward, very confident, very daring, very self assured and dominant, arin causes a lot of trouble, sunghoon makes reader very shy and flustered, intimidating sunghoon, sweetheart sunghoon, emotional moments, appearance from nct foreign swagger line, sunghoon takes reader home, boyfriend sunghoon (kinda), watch as sunghoon and oc fall in love, sunghoon always touching reader under her skirt lmao, smut text portion, so much angst and pain, heartbreak, gets angsty and rough as fuck.
listen to 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 whilst reading <3
i uploaded as a jeno ver originally. i dont think there’s any name mishaps or mistakes but if there is then please let me know politely :)
Park Sunghoon was the bane of your existence.
The University’s study lounge buzzes with the sound of students shuffling in their seats, flipping through textbooks, and tapping away on their laptops. But for you, the noise fades into the background as your thoughts are consumed by one person: Park Sunghoon. He's become the bane of your existence, infiltrating your mind at every turn.
You try to focus on your studies, desperately attempting to absorb the intricacies of musical composition and sound design. But you can't do anything, you can’t focus on your assignments, eat, drink or work on your laptop without thinking of him. Every time you open your textbook, his face flashes before your eyes, distracting you from the task at hand. It's infuriating how effortlessly he invades your thoughts against your own will.
Nayoung’s infatuation with Sunghoon has reached insufferable levels ever since they started hooking up. It's all she ever talks about, as if he's some kind of god among men. But for you, he's just another distraction, a nuisance that refuses to leave you alone. Since they started hooking up, she's been relentless, unable to shut up about their sexual exploits. He can’t be that good…
For you, it's all just noise. You're simply not interested.
While everyone else on campus is busy fucking like rabbits, you couldn't care less. It's like you're the only one on campus who hasn't been sucked into the sex craze. Your focus is on your studies and your future, not getting laid. It's a stark contrast, but you're fine with being the odd one out.
You try to tune out Nayoung’s incessant chatter, but her voice cuts through the air like a knife. "Shut up, shut up!" she exclaims, slapping your hands hastily and pulling you from your thoughts.
You pout in frustration, resisting the urge to snap at her. "I'm not even talking..." you mutter under your breath, huffing in exasperation as you shut your laptop screen down. It's futile to even attempt to get any work done with Sunghoon constantly looming in your mind, taunting you with his presence.
"He's here... He's here! Fuck, he's walking my way and staring at me," Nayoung’s flustered words fill the air as she nervously adjusts her hair, throwing quick glances toward the entrance. You can't help but shake your head at her worry. There's no need for her to fret or make last-minute adjustments, Nayoung is effortlessly attractive, her beauty undeniable and her personality sweetly infectious. She has this casual, confident vibe that's undeniably sexy. It's clear why everyone seems to be wrapped around her little finger.
Then there's Park Sunghoon, making his entrance as if it's the most natural thing in the world to draw every eye in the room. He walks with a confidence that borders on arrogance, an aura around him that's almost too intense. He seems to claim every space he steps into as his own, and today, the cafeteria turns into his domain.
He makes his way over and takes the seat right beside you, as if that spot had been waiting just for him. As he settles in, you find yourself involuntarily gulping a bit, suddenly all too aware of the intensity of his presence. It's undeniable, the aura he carries; a blend of confidence and an almost tangible allure fills the space, charging the air around you. The whole place falls into a hush, the kind of silence that screams of everyone's rapt attention on him, and inevitably, on you by association.
As you catch sight of Sunghoon turning his gaze towards Nayoung, your eyes roll almost instinctively. He reaches out, taking her hand with a gentleness that contradicts his commanding presence, his lips brushing against her skin in a soft kiss. Nayoung’s reaction is immediate; she gulps, visibly struggling to maintain composure, taken aback by the tenderness of his touch.
It's a moment that, despite your usual disinterest, makes you understand just a fraction of the allure that Park Sunghoon carries with him. He's a presence that's hard to ignore, drawing you into his orbit whether you're willing or not.
"We still on for tonight, baby?" Sunghoon's voice sends a shiver down your spine, momentarily silencing the room. Nayoung is completely captivated by him, lost in her own world, unable to form a proper response. But when you nudge her foot with yours, she coughs and says, "Yes, I'll be waiting for you." Her voice is low and sultry, a hint of anticipation laced in her words. "In my bed, all alone, with no clothes on," she continues, biting her lip seductively as she tilts her head and winks at him. "I'll be yours to play with all night long." Her gaze smolders with desire as she waits for his reaction, teasing him with the promise of what's to come.
Sitting beside you, Park Sunghoon has the kind of presence that's impossible to ignore. From what you've heard, the stories that swirl around campus, he's the quintessential heartbreaker, popular, with an air of cockiness that he wears as comfortably as the clothes on his back. He’s dressed casually today, yet every piece seems carefully chosen to accentuate his athletic build—a testament to his dedication as a football player. His fitted t-shirt clings in all the right places, paired with jeans that manage to be both casual and unmistakably deliberate in their fit. His hair, a perfect shade that catches the light, is styled in a seemingly effortless manner, falling just so to frame his striking features.
Sunghoon’s face is a canvas of attractive contrasts; sharp jawlines meet soft, inviting lips, and his eyes, deep and expressive, hold a hint of mischief. There’s a natural symmetry to his features that’s compelling, drawing you in despite any reservations. The easy smirk that often plays across his lips suggests a man who knows his allure and isn’t afraid to use it to his advantage.
But it's not just his looks that have earned him his reputation. He's known to be overconfident, a trait that, combined with his status as a football player, makes him all the more prominent in the social hierarchy of campus life. His charm is scandalous, wielded with the precision of someone who knows just how impactful they are. He's the epitome of a fuckboy, leaving a trail of whispers and rumors in his wake.
Yet, despite the warnings, the stories of hearts left in his path, there's something undeniably captivating about him. He's social, able to navigate any conversation with ease, drawing people in with a magnetism that's hard to resist. And fucking handsome? Absolutely. There's a reason every glance he throws seems to linger, every smile feels like it's meant just for the receiver. It's this mix of danger and allure that makes him an enigma .
Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted when you catch Sunghoon and Nayoung exchanging glances so intense, they could only be described as eye fucking. And you're almost certain he's touching her under the table. Casting a discreet glance their way, disbelief washes over you. Their boldness in such a public setting is startling—where's the sense of privacy, the modesty? It's a display that leaves you questioning the very notions of discretion and boundaries in social interactions.
You assumed your silent judgment would go unnoticed, as usual. Being invisible had its perks; it let you navigate these social seas undisturbed, a mode of survival that had become your comfort zone. Yet, just as you side-eye the intimate display between Sunghoon and Nayoung, Jungwon catches your gaze. With a wink, he throws a comment your way, "Don't feel left out, I'll fuck you," assuming a familiarity that you've never invited.
Your response is immediate and flat, "Shut up," hoping to quash the conversation then and there with your deadpan delivery.
But then Jay chimes in, laughter barely concealed in his voice, "Dude, she's not gonna fuck you, that's the girl who's waiting until marriage."
At Jay's words, a familiar rumor audible for all to hear, you can't help but roll your eyes. It's not the first time your personal choices became the focus of campus gossip, yet it never gets easier to hear it discussed so openly.
In that moment, Sunghoon's gaze locks with yours, a brief encounter that feels like an eternity. His eyes, sharp and probing, offer no hint of his thoughts, leaving you floundering in their depths. The intensity of his stare is unexpectedly captivating, sending a jolt of weakness through you that's both unsettling and embarrassingly thrilling. Despite the rumors and the situation, you're forced to admit, Sunghoon is undeniably hot.
But just as quickly as the moment arrives, it passes. Sunghoon breaks the eye contact, returning to his own world with an ease that suggests he's completely unfazed by Jay's comment. This reaction, or lack thereof, catches you off guard. You had braced yourself for a tease or a quip, something to match Jungwon and Jay's playful torment. Yet, Sunghoon's disinterest and quick dismissal of the conversation leave you in a curious mix of relief and disappointment.
One day you’re gonna cut Park Sunghoon’s cock off.
There’s no way he can make a girl scream that loud.
The frustration builds within you as you sit in your room, once again failing to focus on studying the medical procedures you need to know by tomorrow. And who’s to blame? Park Sunghoon, of course. It’s the second time today his fucking with Nayoung has derailed your concentration. Normally, living with her is a joy; she’s your best friend, your better half. But in moments like these, you wish you could live alone, away from the constant distractions of her sex life.
She gets laid a lot, it’s a regular occurrence in your shared apartment. She’s louder than she normally is tonight, her moans and screams echoing through the walls without a hint of restraint. You try to drown out the noise, burying your head in your textbooks, but it's futile. You can't focus, your mind consumed by thoughts of Sunghoon and his cock.
(Unfortunately)
Eventually, the noise subsides, and you cautiously step out of your room, relieved that Sunghoon seems to have finally left. But as you round the corner, a low, deep voice sends a shiver down your spine, and you freeze in your tracks. He's still here.
Panic sets in as you realise how you're practically walking around naked in an oversized top and short shorts, no bra to conceal your exposed skin. You curse under your breath, desperate to escape to the safety of your room, but you know he'll see and hear you if you make a move now.
With no other option, you dart behind the sofa, thankful for its strategic placement that shields you from his view. Heart racing, you hold your breath, praying he doesn't notice you hiding just a few feet away.
Unbeknownst to you, Sunghoon's attention isn't on Nayoung; he wouldn't have recognized your presence even if you made noise. You're pretty sure Nayoung doesn't realize you're here either. Sunghoon is shirtless, basking in the afterglow of sex, but his focus isn't on Nayoung; he's not even looking at her.
The moment he entered the house for the first time, Sunghoon became enamored. It felt as though he was right where he was supposed to be. His eyes lit up with surprise and thrill as he noticed certain things and items that caught his attention—things he found cool and eye-catching. Despite never having been in this house before, it felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.
His eyes sparkled with a light that you should've seen, a light that no other girl had brought to him before. "How did you get this?" he asks Nayoung in awe, marveling at a rare Lego set.
"I didn't. It's my roommate's," she replies, her features showing amusement and disinterest. You had so many nerdy and niche things lying around, and Nayoung found none of them interesting.
Sunghoon spots a rare album, one he's never seen anyone have before. "This is really cool. I didn't know you were into—"
"Yeah, that's also my roommate's," Nayoung interrupts.
Sunghoon shakes his head in amusement, his eyes landing on a book, ‘Normal People' by Sally Rooney. "What about this?”
"A birthday gift from my roommate. I haven't checked it out yet," Nayoung replies.
"Oh, you should. It's really cool," Sunghoon says, scratching his head. He's about to apologise, realising he's delving too much into your personal space. But then his eyes land on a bass guitar and the apology fails to slip from his tongue. "Do you play bass? I always say that my ideal woman—" Sunghoon catches himself, sighing as he realises Nayoung silence. "—does not play bass, because this is clearly your roommate's."
"She's in a band," Nayoung says simply.
"Damn, that's cool," Sunghoon whispers. "What's she like?"
You gulp nervously, wondering why Park Sunghoon wants to know about you. You’re not used to the feeling of someone being interested in you, you’re not used to someone wanting to find out more and uncover you. It's incredibly foreign and unfamiliar.
“She's in the matrix, she's a whore," Nayoung says, and you open your mouth in shock. What the fuck? No, you were not!
Sunghoon chuckles, and you realise Nayoung was just joking. Her next words warm your heart. "She's the best person I've ever met. She's really chill and calm, sweet to everyone, and fair. She has a really good heart. She's different from everyone we see on campus, different in a good way. She's a bit of a nerd; her main worries in life are how to get the next rare Lego set or make sure she has enough time to balance being in her band, acing all her med exams, and doing all that volunteering and extracurricular crap. She's a breath of fresh air."
Nayoung shakes her head with a dry chuckle. "This is unbelievable. You just picked out all the things in here that belong to my roommate. You didn't even spare a glance at the stuff that's mine.”
Yeah, because they're not interesting, Sunghoon thinks.
Nayoung eyes all of your possessions and shakes her head. She turns to Sunghoon. "It's really weird stuff, and I'm really shocked you find it interesting. I didn't expect it from you. I've never seen someone as interested in it... other than you and my roommate."
“My roommate is into pretty weird stuff. She does these weird paintings of robots playing sports.”
Sunghoon scratches his neck and nods. “Yeah, that’s weird…” (He thought it sounded pretty cool).
“She also has this crazy habit of making breakfast food sing show tunes, I mean, it’s not that annoying because she’s an amazing singer, she’s in a band so I’ll give that to her.”
"So does your roommate's band ever play shows or...?" Sunghoon asks.
"Get out," Nayoung bluntly says, pointing her arm towards the door.
Nayoung sighs; this always happens. Nayoung had a roommate complex. Unbeknownst to you, guys always dug her roommate, you. Only you would never know the full extent or seriousness of this, as you would never return the affection or interest. You were robotic, denying all forms of affection, so nothing ever came from guys wanting to fuck you. Paired with the rumor that you were strictly Christian and waiting until marriage to fuck, yeah, you weren’t going to get laid anytime soon.
She takes a seat on the sofa and nearly jumps when she sees you sleeping there soundly. She didn’t know that you staged this; you knew she’d come to the couch after Sunghoon left, so you had to pretend you were sleeping. You couldn’t let Nayoung or Sunghoon know that you had heard and witnessed that entire interaction. She smiles at you and covers you in the blankets fully, readjusting your head and dimming the lights. She wasn’t surprised that you drew attention without trying to or even knowing that people were into you.
She did have a really fucking cool roommate.
The next morning, Nayoung looks sad, her shoulders slumped as she sits at the kitchen table, picking at her breakfast. You take in her demeanor, noting the furrow in her brow and the downturn of her lips. You have to put your acting skills to use, masking the knowledge of why she's upset with a concerned expression. You go to her immediately, your voice filled with worry, "What's wrong? Did he? I'm gonna kill him—"
Nayoung huffs softly, a mix of frustration and resignation in her breath. "We're gonna stop seeing each other," she explains, her voice tinged with sadness.
Your eyes widen in surprise, and you're about to throw hands but she shakes her head and tells you to calm down, making ‘no’ motions, a small smile playing at her lips. She shakes her head and chuckles softly, "No, he did nothing wrong. I'm not gonna miss him. I know this was just sex, but god, he's really attractive and has a good personality. I'm not getting caught up, but wow, I just feel overwhelmed and intense. How can someone be such an attractive and hot person and know how to use his cock?"
You're at a loss for words, your voice catching in your throat as you struggle to find the right response. You were awkward when it came to emotional conversations, you didn’t know how to comfort someone! One to one intimate moments like this overwhelmed you. However, Nayoung drops a bomb that leaves you speechless and stunned.
"And he likes you."
You choke on your own breath, your eyes widening in disbelief as you shake your head vehemently. "Me? What? That’s absolutely ridiculous, Nayoung, no he doesn’t! He doesn’t even know who I am."
Inner turmoil consumes you as conflicting thoughts swirl in your mind. How could someone like Sunghoon possibly be interested in you? You've never exchanged a single word, never shared a moment beyond fleeting glances in passing. Logically, it doesn't add up; you're strangers. He revels in the chaos of getting high and fuckinf, while you find solace in quiet evenings, lost in the intricate world of LEGO creations and the soothing melody of your bass guitar. It's inconceivable that someone like him could find anything remotely intriguing in someone like you.
"I'm telling you. He likes you. It's true! He pointed out every single thing in the living room that was yours. He likes all the things you do. He's a nerd like you."
Your voice cracks with disbelief, your hands gesturing in denial as you try to process Nayoung's words. "Park Sunghoon? Nerd? He's far from... he's a fuckboy and a football player, he's popular and parties like there's no tomorrow, he smokes and does drugs and—"
"Y/N! You know better than to stereotype. Yes, he does party, is popular, and loves fucking, but he's more than that. He's obviously more than that, and it's not like he hides it. You're only seeing what you want to see. The image you have of him in your head is an image that is surface level. He's actually a good guy, he doesn’t think of himself as above people, and he's chill and kind. He aces exams, and he fucking knows about all the rare little Legos like you do, so he’s clearly a nerd!"
You sigh heavily, feeling a mix of frustration and realization wash over you. Nayoung was right. You were only seeing what you wanted to see. Your idea of him was so fixed and stubborn that you refused to look deeper, beyond the surface.
"It’s like you, Y/N. People only see you as that nerdy, quiet loner who doesn’t talk to anyone and doesn’t drink or party. People think you’re weird—"
"Gee, thanks a lot," you cut off Nayoung's words, sarcastically thanking her for her honesty.
"But I know that you’re way more than that! Your main focus may be your studies, but you’ve got so many cute little side interests! It all adds to your personality and it’s all important. It shouldn’t be overlooked. It makes you who you are. Not only are you a med student, but you’re also in a fucking band! You’re the bassist! It’s fucking hot and cool, Y/N. Park Sunghoon even asked for the name of your band."
What you knew about Park Sunghoon’s cock was against your own will.
Nayoung’s words echo in your mind, each syllable sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. "Sunghoon’s literally so good at dirty talk," she continues, her voice dripping with excitement. "He knows exactly how to please a woman. He doesn’t just stick his dick in and out. He actually has superb technique."
You breathe heavily, shutting your laptop once and for all. "If you and Sunghoon have stopped seeing each other then why are you telling me this?" you interrupt, unable to conceal the frustration in your voice. Nayoung and Yeji exchange a glance, their eyes twinkling mischievously as they exchange silent communication. It's like they're speaking a language that only they understand, leaving you feeling increasingly left out and confused.
Nayoung and Eunji exchanged a look, and it utterly confused you. They'd been giving each other these secretive glances for the past week, making you desperately wish you could tap into whatever little secret they were keeping. Yet, whenever you brought it up, they simply shifted the topic.
"You guys are seriously starting to annoy me," you finally snap, unable to contain your frustration any longer. "Can you just tell me whatever the fuck it is you’re thinking about?" You're met with a knowing smirk from both Nayoung and Eunji, their lips quirking into sly smiles as they continue to exchange secretive glances.
Nayoung leans in closer, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper as she continues to regale you with tales of Sunghoon’s abilities in the bedroom. "You know, Sunghoon’s not just about the physical stuff," she says cryptically, her gaze flickering with something you can’t quite decipher.
Eunji nods in agreement, her lips quirking into a sly smile as she adds, "He’s got this way of making you feel like you’re the only woman in the world when he’s with you. Once he went down on me and I couldn’t walk for days."
Your eyes widen in surprise at Eunji’s revelation, feeling a mix of shock and arousal coursing through you. "When did you fuck him?" you blurt out, unable to conceal your curiosity.
She just laughs, shaking her head as she brushes off your question with ease. "We’ve casually fucked from time to time," she says nonchalantly. "It’s not that shocking, Y/N. His body count is high, after he broke up with Arin, his cock has been unstoppable."
You huff in disbelief. "Who has he not fucked?" you mutter under your breath, your mind reeling with thoughts of Sunghoon's sexual conquests.
"You," Nayoung and Eunji say simultaneously, their words hitting you like a ton of bricks. Silence falls over you as you process their words, feeling a strange mix of shock and excitement swirling inside you.
"What is that even supposed to mean?" you stammer, feeling a sense of unease creeping over you at their cryptic words.
Nayoung just smirks. “Nothing. I’m just telling you how good he is in bed.” You had a feeling she was lying. She had her reasons and motives, ones you were far from understanding.
"And why is that of use to me?" you question, expecting an answer. You turn to Sunwoo when you’re met with silence from the girls.
"Sunwoo, help me," you nudge him from beside you, knowing you could trust your closest and oldest friend.
You sigh in relief when he turns to the two girls. “Leave her alone, this Sunghoon thing is ridiculous, he’s way out of her league.” His words bring you peace and you rest your head against his shoulder, taking a deep breath.
“I’m sorry, I love you, Y/N, but no one is out of Sunghoon’s league. If anything, it’s the other way around,” Nayoung retorts.
“Thanks a lot,” you snort.
“It’s not just you, everyone is out of his league,” Eunji clarifies.
“I’m not,” Sunwoo says dryly.
“You shut up!” Eunji points an accusing finger at Sunwoo. “I know you have protective, brotherly tendencies when it comes to Y/N, but you have to admit… our girl needs cock!”
He turns to you, a knowing smirk that only the two of you will understand. “You do really need to get laid though,” he says in a low voice.
Nayoung goes back to praising Sunghoon for his sexual abilities. “And let me tell you, his dirty talk is next level,”
A devilish grin spreads across Eunji’s face as she shares a smirk with Nayoung, recalling one of her past encounters with Sunghoon. “I’ve never had sex with someone who has such good timing and pace,” she confesses. "He knows exactly what to do with his cock, hands, and lips, and where to do it."
"He’s not just in it for himself, you know," Eunji adds, her tone serious as she looks you straight in the eye. "He genuinely cares about his partner’s pleasure. He’s the perfect person to experience all of your firsts with."
"Hey!" you exclaim, feeling a surge of indignation rising up inside you. "This feels very targeted and personal," you accuse, your voice cracking with frustration. "Where is this coming from?"
You had never spoken a word to Park Sunghoon in your life. Sure, you noticed that he seemed to take an interest in your belongings around the apartment, but that wasn't enough to warrant Nayoung and Eunji sudden push to get you interested in him. It all felt too orchestrated, too deliberate, and you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to their agenda than they were letting on. Despite their efforts to convince you otherwise, you remained skeptical about the idea of getting involved with someone like Sunghoon, especially considering your vastly different personalities and lifestyles.
"I'm not saying you have to jump into bed with him right away," Nayoung says, her voice softening with sincerity. "But maybe give him a chance. You might be surprised. I know what you're gonna say, 'He's the Park Sunghoon, campus fuckboy and resident player, we're in completely different leagues and scenes, and we'll never get along.'" Nayoung mimics your voice, and you narrow your eyes.
"I sound nothing like that!" you frown, realizing you sounded exactly like that.
"Just think about it, Y/N," Nayoung says, her voice tinged with excitement.
"I'm not gonna think about it, my mind is gonna be on the gig I have tonight. You guys better be there!" you declare.
Nayoung's response comes with a gleam in her eye, a spark of something mischievous lurking beneath her casual assurance. "Oh, we wouldn't miss it for the world," she says, her glance sliding over to Yeji as they share a knowing look. They wink at each other, sealing a silent pact, the first stage of their mission to bring you and Sunghoon closer is already in motion.
Sunghoon received a text from Nayoung, inviting him to meet for some drinks at the bar. The anticipation of a night filled with pleasure courses through his veins, driving him to accept the invitation without hesitation.
He goes because he anticipates getting laid. Sunghoon enjoyed the sex with Nayoung, as he did with any other girl. He had an insatiable appetite for sex, and he never shied away from indulging in it. However, he was always respectful and mindful of boundaries. His partners knew that he was only seeking physical satisfaction, and he made sure they felt just as much pleasure as they gave him.
It didn’t matter to him if Nayoung's personality didn’t align with his; he was solely focused on fulfilling his carnal desires. Feeling sexually frustrated, Sunghoon eagerly heads to the bar, eager to find release in Nayoung's company.
Feeling sexually frustrated and on edge, Sunghoon's steps quicken as he approaches the bar, the dim lights and pulsing music heightening his senses. He craves the distraction, the temporary oblivion that comes with losing himself in the warmth of another body. And so, with a determined stride, he pushes open the door.
As Sunghoon strides into the dimly lit bar, the air heavy with the scent of alcohol and anticipation, he feels a rush of excitement course through him. Dressed in a sleek leather jacket that hugs his form, he exudes an air of rugged charm and allure as he scans the room, his eyes alight with anticipation.
The bar is cast in shadows, a dimly lit sanctuary with a retro flair that gives it an air of timeless charm. Neon signs flicker softly against the dark walls, casting a warm, inviting glow over the eclectic mix of patrons. The atmosphere is a blend of nostalgia and mystery, each corner telling a story, each shadow holding a secret. Vinyl records adorn one wall, a nod to the classics, while the low hum of conversation and the clink of glasses provide a steady soundtrack to the night.
A familiar tingle zips through him, it’s an echo of the sensation he felt that first time he crossed the threshold into your apartment, a sense of rightness, of being exactly where he’s supposed to be.
Something shifts inside him. The retro vibe, combined with the sultry air, sets a scene that's both familiar and charged with new energy. Shadows dance across the walls, and the music's pulse syncs with his own heartbeat, signaling a night of unexpected turns.
Amidst the noise and the crowd, Sunghoon spots Nayoung. She's there, laughing, surrounded by friends, exactly where he should want to be. But he doesn’t move towards her. Instead, there's a compelling force, a curiosity leading him elsewhere, towards something—or someone—he hadn't anticipated.
It’s you.
Amongst the faces, yours catches his gaze like a lighthouse in the fog. It's inexplicable, this sudden redirection of his night, his desires. Something inside him has decided, without a word, that the night was never really about Nayoung. It was about discovering what he didn't even know he was looking for—until now.
Perched on the stage, bathed in the soft glow of the neon lights, you exude a magnetic energy that draws him in like a match to its flame. You were breathtaking. Dressed in a mini skirt that accentuates every curve of your ass and thighs, paired with a top that leaves little to the imagination, you radiate confidence and sensuality that leaves Sunghoon spellbound.
For a moment, time seems to stand still as Sunghoon’s gaze locks with yours, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of you. In that instant, he feels a surge of desire unlike anything he’s ever experienced. Who were you? He was sure that you were one of the students at the college, he was sure he had seen you before. He’s just shocked that this is the first time he’s recognising how hot you are.
In that fleeting moment, as Sunghoon's eyes meet yours, time itself seems to pause, the air charged with an electric tension. His gaze, intense and unyielding, speaks of a yearning that goes beyond mere attraction, hinting at depths of desire that are raw and untamed. As your smile fades, replaced by a questioning frown, the atmosphere thickens with unspoken possibilities, a palpable sense of what could be.
The sudden break in your smile sends a pang through Sunghoon, a silent plea for the connection not to sever. The eye contact between you is a live wire, sparking with the potential to ignite. Amidst the crowd, amidst the noise, there's a silent conversation happening, a dance of glances that speaks volumes.
Your mind races with questions. Why was Park Sunghoon here? He was the campus heartbreak and residential fuckboy, the last person you’d expect to see you play. You always assumed no one ever found you interesting so why does his interest seem to settle on you tonight? His reputation precedes him, yet here he is, looking at you with an intensity that suggests a desire for something more profound than his usual pursuits.
You weren't naive, why was he looking at you like he wanted you? Like he wanted to fuck you. Why now? His gaze, laden with an unmistakable intensity, seeks to pierce through the layers, to see beyond the facade everyone else sees.
Your band commands the space. The rhythm is captivating, a vibrant blend of guitar riffs and drum beats that fills the room with an infectious energy. You're on the bass, and it's clear this is a passion. The bass itself is a striking piece, its sleek, polished wood and the smooth curves of its body reflecting the stage lights.
As Sunghoon watches, he can't help but marvel at the skill in your fingers. The way they dance and glide over the strings, with precision and a sort of grace that's both powerful and delicate, stirs something unexpected in him. His gaze fixates on your hands, fingers moving in perfect harmony with the music, and a primal desire ignites within him.
The thought of those talented fingers exploring your own body, tracing every curve and fold, sends a shiver of anticipation down his spine. He imagines the sensation of your touch, firm yet gentle. Lost in the moment, Sunghoon feels a surge of arousal building within him, his breath hitching as he envisions your fingers delving deeper.
What fucks him up even more is when you smile at him, such an innocent smile that makes his chest tighten with an unexpected surge of desire. It's a smile that lights up your entire face, eyes sparkling with warmth and sincerity, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through Sunghoon's veins.
As you lock eyes with him and smile, Sunghoon feels as though the air has been knocked out of his lungs. You look breathtaking, radiant in the soft glow of the stage lights, your beauty almost otherworldly in its intensity. Every curve and contour of your features seems to be highlighted.
You had no idea what he was thinking, so oblivious to the effect you had on him. It was maddening how effortlessly captivating you were, how your mere presence could stir such intense longing within him.
He knows this is wrong, that he shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts, shouldn’t be so turned on by you. Desperately trying to regain control of his thoughts, Sunghoon attempts to focus on the other members of the band. They exude coolness, lost in the music and their own world. But for all their visual appeal, none of them compare to you.
In that moment, Sunghoon finds himself singularly captivated by you, unable to tear his gaze away as he succumbs to the intoxicating allure of your presence.
He’s not the only one. The energy of the room has shifted, centering on your presence on stage. It's palpable, the way you've drawn every eye towards you. You're undeniably magnetic, a fact made evident by the sea of faces turned in your direction, yet what truly fascinates Sunghoon, what truly fucks his mind, is your obliviousness to the effect you're having. You’re just lost in the music, not looking for any approval or basking in the spotlight. This contrast, between how much you stand out and your indifference to it, really catches him.
Though he can't hear your laugh over the music, he sees the way your shoulders shake, the brightness in your eyes, and he knows—it's a sound he wants to discover, to keep. A smile, unbidden, spreads across his face, mirroring the joy he sees in you. It's a strange, fluttery feeling that takes residence in his chest, a sensation both foreign and exhilarating.
Nayoung makes her way through the crowd to him, a knowing smile playing on her lips. She leans in close, her fingers tracing a daring path down his back and over his thighs. Her touch, bold and teasing, makes his heart skip a beat. "You wish that was Y/N touching you, right?" she whispers, her voice a blend of mischief and suggestion.
Turning to face her, Sunghoon's eyes darken, a smoulder of intensity burning within them as he contemplated her words. "Y/N?" The name, unfamiliar and yet suddenly significant, rolls off his tongue.
Nayoung's nod is all the confirmation he needs. "Yeah, she's the one. She's my roommate," she reveals, each word painting a clearer picture in his mind.
"I'm off to Jake's house, but you're staying here, right? Y/N normally walks home from the bar. Maybe you could offer to walk her, maybe keep her company. Our apartment is going to be empty… use your imagination." With a final wink, she slips away.
As Sunghoon steps out into the cool night, he spots you alone under a streetlamp, the smoke from your cigarette curling into the night air. As you take another drag, the ember glows, casting a soft light on your features. He’s mesmerised by the sight, a girl smoking would always be hot to him, the sight of the smoke framing your face proves that. It gives you a mysterious vibe, making you appear all the more captivating and irresistibly sexy in his eyes.
Drawn to you, he moves closer and asks if he can join. Noticing his gaze linger, you offer him a cigarette with a knowing smile. You offer him a cigarette with a knowing smile. As he accepts, your fingers brush against his, sending a jolt of electricity through both of you. There’s a charged energy in the way your gazes lock. As he inhales, his jawline becomes more pronounced, the smoke curling around him like a caress. There’s a deliberate slowness to his exhale, the smoke weaving between you, creating an intimate veil.
As the conversation between you and Sunghoon progresses, you find yourself surprisingly at ease in his presence. Normally, you'd keep your guard up, especially around someone as notorious as Sunghoon, but tonight, there's something different. Before you realize it, you're drawing him in closer, the usual barriers falling away. You might have blamed it on alcohol, but you're sober, leaving the connection between you both intriguingly genuine.
Conversation starts light, with Sunghoon leaning in slightly, the warmth of the moment closing the distance between you. "Watching you tonight… I was taken aback, you’re really good," he says, his voice low and appreciative, tinged with genuine admiration.
You laugh softly, a bit of surprise flickering across your face at his observation. "I just love playing, didn't think anyone actually noticed," you reply, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, a hint of bashfulness in your smile.
"Oh, trust me, it's hard not to notice," Sunghoon continues, his gaze steady on you, making sure you understand he's talking about more than just the music.
You giggle, feeling a mix of flattery and nervousness under his focused attention. "Well, I'm glad you think so. I'm usually just hoping I don't mess up the chords," you respond, trying to maintain a lighthearted tone, even as his compliment sends a warm flutter through you.
"Mess up? I think you could play anything and make it sound incredible," he asserts, a playful yet sincere edge to his words. His flirtatious confidence is smooth, but it's his underlying earnestness that catches you off guard, drawing an unguarded smile from you.
The conversation flows, creating a comfortable yet charged atmosphere. Your laughter comes more easily. With a playful smirk, Sunghoon’s eyes trail down your figure, appreciating the way your tight top accentuates your curves and your skirt hugs your hips and thighs. “You look stunning,” he comments, his tone flirtatious yet respectful.
Blushing at his compliment, you giggle softly and playfully respond, “I thought I looked pretty today.”
Sunghoon’s gaze meets yours, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes as he leans in closer. “You look hot,” he says, his voice dripping with desire, sending a thrill down your spine.
Your cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink as you accept Sunghoon's jacket, letting out a soft giggle that speaks volumes of your appreciation and the fluttering emotions within. "Thank you," you manage to say, your voice light and airy, tinged with a mix of gratitude and a growing warmth that has little to do with the dropping temperatures around you.
The way Sunghoon looked at you changed everything. You had noticed his eyes when you were on the stage and you’re noticing it now. The opinions you had formed about him, the guard you had meticulously built up, the walls you constructed around yourself—all of it began to crumble the moment his gaze met yours. You found yourself inexplicably drawn towards him, a magnetic pull you couldn't resist.
There's just something about him.
There's something about his eyes, particularly striking, that makes it impossible for you to look away. It's as if they hold a depth of understanding and kindness, captivating you, making you feel seen and acknowledged in a way that's disarmingly comforting.
There's something about his smile, too. It's genuine, radiant even, cutting through your defenses as if they were made of paper. His smile seems to speak directly to your soul, warming you from the inside out, and making the corners of your own lips twitch upwards in response.
You can't help but admit, there's something about him—something undeniably compelling that makes you feel like you’re rediscovering something familiar, a connection that's both unexpected and deeply welcome.
You start to shiver, you’re not sure whether it’s because of the weather or how he’s making you feel. Sunghoon, noticing your discomfort, doesn't hesitate. He smoothly takes off his jacket and places it over your shoulders. The sudden warmth from the jacket contrasts sharply with the cool air.
As Sunghoon's jacket settles around your shoulders, the immediate sensation is one of warmth, the material soft against your skin. The jacket, slightly too large, feels like a hug, a protective barrier against the chill. But it's his scent that truly captivates you — infused with notes of wood and spice, subtle yet distinctly masculine.
Sunghoon's gaze inadvertently falls on your arm. There, slightly peeking out from under the fabric, is a tattoo that immediately captures his attention. It's a butterfly, intricately designed, its wings seemingly crafted from delicate wisps of ashes, as if it has risen, reborn from the remnants of a past life. The detail is exquisite, symbolising transformation, resilience, and the beauty of emerging stronger from challenges.
"That's... I have the same tattoo," Sunghoon reveals, his voice tinged with disbelief and a newfound depth of connection.
For a moment, the world seems to pause, the ambient noise of your surroundings fading into the background as you lock eyes. The eye contact is intense, it’s as if the discovery of your matching tattoos has unveiled a deeper layer of understanding, a serendipitous link that neither of you expected but both inherently feel.
The butterfly, for you, symbolizes a journey through personal trials, a testament to the strength it takes to rise anew. For Sunghoon, it represents a parallel path, a reminder of his own resilience and the transformative power of embracing change.
You feel a surge of heat pooling in your core as he shifts slightly, his movements drawing you in closer. “Are you okay with me showing you?” he asks, voice low and husky, dripping with seduction. It sends a rush of heat straight to your core. You narrow your eyes, confused but nod immediately, your chest tightening and your eyes firing when you realise what he means. It’s a tattoo under his shirt, and the thought of him revealing it to you ignites a fiery desire within you.
Your heart races as you meet his gaze, your eyes smouldering with desire. With a deliberate yet sensual touch, you place your hand on his, stopping him from lifting his shirt. “Do you want to come home with me?” you whisper, surprised at how forward you’re being but this feels right. Your voice is laced with longing and need. You can feel the electricity crackling between you, the air thick with anticipation.
A wicked grin spreads across Sunghoon’s lips as he gazes at you, his eyes darkening with desire. “You can show me then. I have a tattoo on my thigh too that I want to show you,” you add, your words sending a surge of arousal through both of you. The tension between you is palpable, the desire for each other burning hotter with every passing moment.
Ultimately, you made the first move. The walk back home was charged with an energy that couldn't be ignored, an undeniable sexual tension that seemed to pull you both closer with every step. Heated glances were exchanged, each look sending a clear message of the attraction between you.
The moment the front door clicked shut, you seized him, your fingers digging into his shirt as you pulled him into you with an urgency that bordered on desperation. His lips crashed against yours like a tidal wave, igniting a firestorm of passion that consumed you both. It was a kiss fueled by the electric charge that had crackled between you since the moment you laid eyes on each other.
His lips were like a drug, intoxicating and addictive, sending shockwaves of desire coursing through your veins. He knew exactly how to move his lips against yours, each brush and caress igniting a blaze of longing deep within you. The taste of him, a heady blend of musk and spice, lingered on your lips, driving you to explore every inch of his mouth.
His tongue traced the outline of your lips with a teasing flick, coaxing them to part with an insistence. His tongue delved deep into the recesses of your mouth, seeking out every hidden corner with an eager hunger. Your tongues tangled together with a longing that left you both breathless. With each stroke and caress, the intensity of the kiss grew.
His arms encircled your waist, pulling you impossibly close until there was no space between you, his body pressing against yours with a delicious urgency. You tangled your fingers in his hair, each touch and pull of his hair igniting a wildfire of need within you.
As you stumbled blindly through the room, knocking over objects in your path, you couldn't bring yourself to care about the mess you left in your wake. You knocked over one of your lego sets, one that took endless hours to build but in that moment, all that mattered was kissing him, the taste of him on your lips, and the overwhelming need that consumed you both.
Sunghoon’s hands are rough and eager as he rips your top off, the fabric tearing with a satisfying sound that echoes in the room. He wastes no time in unzipping your mini skirt, but the tightness proves to be a challenge. You both share a moment of laughter, the sound muffled by your desperate kisses, as he struggles to pull it down your legs.
Giggles mix with moans as you continue to ravage each other. You dragged him impossibly closer, as if trying to meld your bodies together into one. His arms wrapped around you, his hands roaming over your back and shoulders, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
You detach your lips for just a moment, recapturing your breath, then you leap into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as he lifted you effortlessly off the ground. The sensation of his body against yours was electrifying. Your breath mingled with his, hot and heavy against each other’s mouths as you panted and moaned.
"Who's home?" he breathes out, desperation lacing his words, a different side of him emerging with a heavier, more urgent tone.
"No one. Just us," you reply, your voice a low, throaty moan, thick with desire.
You've heard Chaeyoung talk about her experiences with him, listened to her descriptions of how it felt to fuck him. You knew more about what you were getting yourself into than you let on. She had mentioned how he was softer in the beginning, but that wasn't what you wanted.
"I don't want you to hold back. I don't want you to be soft," you pant out, the words dripping with raw need and insatiable longing. "I want you to fuck me like you mean it," you demand, your voice husky with desire, your eyes blazing with primal hunger.
In response, he lets out a low, primal moan, almost a growl, that resonates deep within you, setting your senses ablaze and igniting a fire in the depths of your core.
He throws you onto the bed, a rush of exhilaration coursing through you as you land with a soft thud. His lips remain locked with yours, refusing to break the connection as he positions himself on top of you.
With a fierce determination, he discards your lace bra and thong, his hands moving with precision and purpose. As you lay exposed before him, you feel the heat in his eyes, a primal desire burning bright as he admires every inch of your bare form. His growl of appreciation sends shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that can only be quenched by his touch.
Between kisses, he whispers, "You don't know how much I've wanted to see every inch of your skin like this," his tone heavy with longing and anticipation. His lips continue their exploration, leaving you breathless and yearning for more. He murmurs, "I've been thinking about you all night long,"
Between kisses, he whispers, "Thinking about how you'd moan my name as I take every inch of you," his tone heavy with longing and anticipation. "The feeling of your body underneath mine, how it would arch and tremble," he continues, his breath hot against your skin. "Feeling your tight pussy gripping me.” He confesses, his words sending a surge of heat straight to your core.
Your whimper, feeling utterly speechless, yet you manage to muster one pleading request. "Take your clothes off," you whine, pouting as the realisation sinks in that he remains fully clothed against your bare skin.
He responds with a shake of his head, a smile dancing on his lips. "Not now," he murmurs before returning his focus to admiring every inch of your body. "You're so fucking pretty," he purrs, his voice low and husky with desire as he drinks in the sight of you. He groans softly, unable to resist the magnetic pull of your beauty, longing to taste every inch of your skin.
His body presses down against yours with unyielding force, the weight of him grounding you to the mattress. You can feel every contour of his form pressing into you, every muscle tense with desire as he hungrily devours you.
The sensation of him against you is overwhelming, a reminder of his presence as he presses closer, leaving no space between you. Your breath hitches when you feel the unmistakable hardness of his cock rubbing against your thigh, igniting a fire of need within you.
As his lips trail from yours to your neck, he leaves a trail of hot, wet kisses in his wake. Each touch leaves behind a mark of his possession, a hickey to brand you as his own in the heat of the moment.
As his lips trail from yours to your neck, he leaves a scorching path of hot, wet kisses in his wake. His kisses are possessive and rough, each touch a declaration of his dominance as he claims you as his own. With each press of his lips against your skin, he leaves behind a red mark of his possession, his lips tugging at your skin with a delicious mix of pleasure and pain, leaving behind teeth marks that throb with a sensation that borders on ecstasy.
With a lingering kiss that sets your senses ablaze, he teases your lips before trailing down your body with determined intent. Each movement is deliberate, sending shivers of anticipation down your spine.
As he reaches your nipples, he captures them between his lips with a hunger that leaves you breathless. His tongue dances across your sensitive peaks, tracing intricate patterns before swirling around them in long, languid strokes. The sensation is electric, igniting a firestorm of desire deep within you as he sucks and licks with an insatiable hunger.
"Fuck," you moan, your voice dripping with need as he drives you wild with pleasure. "Sunghoon," you urge, your fingers grasping at his hair as you lose yourself in the overwhelming sensation.
"Harder," you demand, your voice laced with desperation as you beg for more of his intoxicating touch. "I need you to make me cum," you whimper, your body arching towards him as he complies with your wishes, his movements growing more urgent with each passing moment and you can’t help but feel his smirk against your skin.
With every tug of his hair, you feel a surge of pleasure coursing through you, intensifying the already overwhelming sensation of his mouth on your nipples. As he trails scorching kisses down your body, every touch sets your skin ablaze with desire, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. His lips linger over every inch of your flesh, igniting a firestorm of need that consumes you from within.
"That's it, good girl, cum for me," he murmurs against your skin, his voice a sultry whisper that sends shivers down your spine. His head rests against your thigh, his gaze locked with yours as he watches you with dazed eyes, the intensity of his stare driving you wild with desire.
"Keep your eyes on me when you cum," he demands, his voice low and deep, sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. You whimper in response, your hands trembling as you remove them from covering your face, laying them by your sides as your orgasm approaches rapidly.
As he locks his hands with yours, his touch sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, his fingers coaxing and guiding you towards ecstasy. "Cum all over my tongue, pretty girl, can you do that for me?" he urges, his voice a husky growl that ignites a firestorm of need deep within you.
As the tension coils tighter within you, you feel your release building, a primal urge threatening to consume you entirely. With a tight grip on his hands, you surrender to the overwhelming sensation, your body trembling with anticipation.
The pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave, your senses overwhelmed as you feel yourself spiraling into ecstasy. Behind closed eyelids, flashes of intense pleasure dance across your vision, colors swirling in a sensation.
He smashes his lips against yours, the kiss suffocating but so hot and heated that it sends a jolt of desire coursing through your veins. As he breaks away from the kiss, his words hang in the air, a response to the desire you had expressed earlier.
You notice a shift in him, a different look in his eyes that sends a thrill of excitement down your spine. There's a hot, intense side to him that you hadn't expected, a side that turns you on more than you could have imagined.
“How do you want me to fuck you?” Sunghoon whispers huskily, his lips trailing languid kisses all over your face.
His gaze softens with anticipation as he waits for your response, and you find yourself ready to comply. You nod eagerly, but he just tuts, wanting a clear answer.
"Tell me what you want me to do to you," he says, his voice a mixture of softness and anticipation, contrasting with the demanding tone in his voice. He's really asking you? You hadn't expected this, never experienced this level of openness and desire before.
"I - I..." you begin, stumbling over your words, unsure how to articulate your deepest desires.
"Baby, don't hold back," he tuts gently, his index finger resting at the bottom of your chin, keeping your gaze locked on his.
"Don't laugh at me," you pout.
"Why would I do that?" His voice deepens, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he reassures you with his words.
"I - I want you to be rough," you finally admit, your voice trembling with anticipation. "I want you to slap me, choke me, spit on me. I don't want you to be gentle. I want to see if you live up to the hype of being this 'sex god' that everyone claims you are. I - just do whatever you want to me. Use me and control me."
Your confession leaves you breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as you await his reaction. You gasp in shock at your own words, your eyes widening in disbelief at the boldness of your desires. But as you look into his eyes, you see nothing but desire and hunger reflected back at you, fueling the fire of anticipation burning between you.
His movements are confident and commanding as he grips your chin firmly, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. You dare not look away, captivated by the raw desire burning in his eyes. With his other hand, he traces the curves of your body, his touch rough and demanding, igniting a fire within you.
As his fingers trail lower, teasing your already sensitive peaks, you gasp at the electrifying sensation. A low growl escapes his lips as he feels how wet you already are, his finger slipping effortlessly into your eager heat.
“Fuck, you’re already dripping?” he murmurs, his voice laced with desire and disbelief. “I haven’t even touched you yet, needy slut.”
You moan as his fingers slide effortlessly into your eager heat, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure racing through your body. He doesn't hold back, pushing deeper with each thrust, stretching you to accommodate his every movement. The rough pads of his fingertips brush against your sensitive walls, igniting a firestorm of desire deep within you. You arch your back, offering yourself up to him completely, craving more of his intoxicating touch.
He adds another finger, and then another, the stretch deliciously overwhelming as he fills you completely. You can feel the pressure building, the tight coil of pleasure threatening to unravel at any moment. His pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more urgent and relentless as he drives you closer to the edge. You can't help but cry out, lost in the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body.
With each stroke, he pushes you closer and closer to the brink, until finally, you shatter into a million pieces, waves of ecstasy crashing over you as you succumb to the overwhelming pleasure he's given you.
"I want you to eat me out –" you manage to breathe out, your voice trembling with anticipation and need.
With a hungry glint in his eyes, Sunghoon positions you just how he likes, spreading your legs wide as he settles between them. His touch is demanding, yet precise, as he dips his fingers between your slick folds, reveling in the wetness that greets him. Already, he's moved his head down, and you eagerly cage it between your thighs, your breath hitching in anticipation.
Throwing your legs around his shoulders, you pull him closer, urging him to delve deeper. And delve he does, his tongue tracing intricate patterns along your throbbing heat, each stroke sending jolts of electricity coursing through your body. There's no gentleness in his approach; he's forceful, relentless, determined to devour you whole.
He attacks your clit with fervor, his tongue flicking against it with a ferocity that leaves you gasping for air. His fingers dig into your thighs, holding you in place as he intensifies his assault, his head bobbing between your legs as he drives you to the brink of ecstasy.
"Fuck, you taste so good," he growls against your sensitive flesh, the vibration sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. He's not content until you're a writhing mess beneath him, lost in a sea of pleasure that only he can provide.
Your moans fill the room, broken and desperate, as he takes you higher and higher, pushing you closer to the brink with each skilled stroke of his tongue. But just as you close your eyes to savour the moment, his hand comes down hard on your pussy, giving you a sharp slap. "I told you to look at me when you cum," he growls, his voice a commanding presence that leaves you breathless. You let out a moan, not expecting to be so turned on by this. It sends shockwaves of pleasure radiating through you.
With a small nod, you oblige, opening your eyes to meet his gaze, letting him see the raw, unbridled desire written across your face. You're completely at his mercy, your body aching with need as he continues to devour you with his mouth.
He sucks dry every last drop of your pleasure, his praises ringing in your ears like a symphony of desire.
He presses his lips against your throbbing core with a mouthy and wet kiss. "Good girl," he murmurs, his words a soothing balm to your fractured senses. "Such a pretty cunt," he adds, his voice a husky growl as he admires your pussy.
And as you come down from the dizzying heights of ecstasy, you're left panting and trembling in his arms, completely spent and utterly satisfied.
As Sunghoon pulls back from devouring you, his eyes blaze with unquenchable desire, hungry for more of you. Your body trembles with anticipation, aching for his touch as you meet his intense gaze, silently begging for him to fulfill your craving.
“Please, Sunghoon,” you plead, your voice thick with need, your fingers grasping at the sheets beneath you. “I need you inside me.” His grin is wicked, a mirror of your own desire, as he savors your desperation, relishing the power he holds over you.
“You want me to fuck you, baby?” he purrs, the husky timbre of his voice sending shivers down your spine.
You nod fervently, a smile tugging at your lips as your hands reach for his top, swiftly pulling it over his head. Your fingers trace over his bare chest and abs, the sight of his toned physique eliciting a gasp of admiration. His chest and abs glisten in the dim light, sculpted to perfection, each muscle defined with precision.
Your breath hitches with each passing moment, the ache between your legs growing more insistent with every heartbeat. Fingers trembling, you reach for his belt, your urgency evident in the way you fumble with the buckle. With a swift motion, he pulls it down himself, his boxers following suit, revealing his hardened length. You gasp at the sight, your eyes fixated on his cock as you reach out instinctively. He groans in response, his voice strained with desire as he warns, "Don't, baby. I won't last."
With a primal growl, he positions himself between your parted thighs, his throbbing cock poised at your entrance, close yet agonisingly out of reach. You can see it in his eyes, and the way he's looking at you, he's going to go soft despite his earlier promises of roughness.
As you express your disappointment with a soft whine, he silences you with a gentle shake of his head. "Trust me, baby, I'm big," he whispers in a husky tone, his words sending a thrill through you.
"I don't care. I still want you to be rough with me," you assert, your desire palpable in your voice.
He shakes his head once more. “You don't want me to be too rough for the first time," he explains softly, his eyes filled with tenderness. "Maybe next time," he adds with a teasing wink, prolonging the anticipation as he plays with your desires.
As his lips crash against yours in a breathy kiss, a symphony of moans escapes from the depths of your souls, mingling in the air like sweet melodies of desire. Each touch of his lips against yours ignites a fire within, sending sparks of electricity dancing across your skin. With every exhale, you both moan into each other’s mouth.
He backs away from your lips too early for your liking. With a devious glint in his eyes, he teases, testing your patience and leaving you craving more.
You grow increasingly impatient when he doesn’t move, he smirks, he’s teasing you, testing your patience. Your whimpers become more urgent with each passing moment. “Please,” you beg for any type of movement
But he continues to toy with you, his smirk widening as he revels in your desperation. “I don’t know, should I let you have my cock?” he taunts, his voice dripping with desire and dominance.
You deadpan. “Your cock is literally inside of my vagina right now—”
“Do you really think you deserve it?” he says, his voice low and dark, sending shivers down your spine.
You roll your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you match his tone. You find yourself enjoying the charged atmosphere, how comfortable it feels with him. You find yourself holding back a grin. "I bet you're not even that big," you retort.
“Oh?” he says, a smirk playing on his lips as he closes the distance between you, his gaze burning with intensity.
As he thrusts into you with relentless force, you feel an overwhelming mix of pleasure and discomfort wash over you. His cock is so thick, stretching you to your limits with each deep penetration. You whimper, struggling to adjust to his size, but he shows no mercy, drilling into you with undefeated determination.
His movements are harsh and unforgiving, his hips driving forward with brutal force as he claims you as his own. Each thrust sends shockwaves through your body, leaving you trembling with need. You moan uncontrollably, unable to form coherent words as he pounds into you relentlessly.
“You’re so big,” you manage to gasp out between ragged breaths, your words breathy with a hint of disbelief in your voice as you feel him filling you completely. But his response is cold and mocking.
“You were talking so much shit earlier,” he sneers, his voice dripping with contempt. “Now stay there and fucking take it.”
As his hips collide with yours, the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, a rhythmic symphony of lust and desire. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, your moans echoing off the walls as you surrender to the raw intensity of his touch.
He fucks you with a primal urgency, his movements rough and demanding as he claims you as his own. His cock drives into you with relentless force, stretching you to your limits and filling you completely with each deep penetration. You can feel every inch of him inside you, his hardness pressing against your most sensitive spots and sending waves of ecstasy crashing over you.
His cock pounds into you relentlessly, driving deep into your slick heat with each forceful thrust. You can feel every inch of him stretching you, pushing you to your limits as he claims you as his own. The sensation is overwhelming, a mixture of pleasure and pain that only serves to fuel your desire for more. “More,” you gasp, your voice barely a whisper.
"Beg for it, beg for my cock deeper inside you," he commands, his voice dripping with desire and dominance. As his words hang in the air, you feel his hands gripping your thighs, pulling your legs around his waist. With a swift movement, he positions you exactly how he wants, allowing for deeper penetration and intensifying the sensations between you. This change in angle sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, pushing you both to new heights of ecstasy. With each thrust, he buries himself deeper inside you, his cock filling you completely as you cling to him, lost in the overwhelming pleasure of the moment.
"Harder, please," you plead, your voice trembling with need as you yearn for him to give you everything he's got. Your body craves the intensity of his touch, the roughness of his thrusts driving you wild with desire. You arch your back, offering yourself up to him completely, desperate for him to take you to the brink of ecstasy and beyond.
He obliges, increasing the tempo of his thrusts, his movements becoming more urgent as he drives himself deeper into you. The sound of your moans fills the room, mixing with the sound of skin slapping against skin, loud moans and your headboard creaking.
With each merciless thrust, your body succumbs to the relentless assault, every movement driving you closer to the brink of ecstasy. The raw power of his domination leaves you breathless, your senses consumed by the overwhelming pleasure he bestows upon you. You teeter on the edge of climax, every nerve ending ablaze with desire, craving release like never before.
“I’m gonna cum,” you moan desperately, your plea echoing through the room, but instead of granting you release, he chuckles darkly, a sinister sound that sends a shiver down your spine.
With a cruel twist, he wrenches his cock back, the abrupt movement sending a jolt of pain coursing through you. His gaze is unforgiving, a menacing glint in his eyes as he stares down at you, relishing in your torment. Your whimpers of protest only fuel his cruel pleasure, a smirk playing on his lips as he revels in your frustration.
“You were talking so much shit earlier,” he taunts, his voice dripping with contempt as he watches you squirm beneath him. “Do you think you deserve to cum?” His words are like daggers, each one laced with venom as he taunts and belittles you, his dominance asserting itself with every syllable. “Only good girls deserve to cum.”
Sunghoon’s anger is palpable as he flips you onto your back, the force of his movement taking you by surprise. Your heart races with anticipation, knowing that his roughness is a sign of his frustration. You can feel the tension in the air as he shifts you onto all fours, his movements primal and commanding.
“Spread your legs wider,” he demands, his tone brooking no argument. “That’s it,” he murmurs.
With a primal growl, he positions himself between your legs, his grip on your hips firm and unyielding. “Hold onto the headboard,” he orders, his voice commanding obedience. You obey without hesitation, your nails digging into the wood as he takes you from behind.
Each forceful thrust elicits a gasp from your lips, the intensity of his desire overwhelming your senses. “You like it rough, don’t you?” he taunts, his words punctuated by the sound of skin slapping against skin. “Tell me how much you want it,” he demands, his voice rough with desire.
In the heat of the moment, his anger fuels his actions, his movements rough and unyielding. As he fills you completely, you’re overwhelmed by the sensation, your senses flooded with pleasure. Gasping for air, you’re left breathless, the intensity of his desire consuming you.
Each powerful thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, driving you further toward the edge of ecstasy. Your ass meets his thighs with each forceful movement, the impact sending a shiver down your spine. He takes advantage of your vulnerability, delivering sharp slaps to your pussy, each one igniting a fire within you.
With a forceful grip, he fists your hair back, tilting your head upwards to expose your neck to him. He leaves bruises and hickies along your skin, marking you as his own. His grip tightens, asserting his control over you, his hands roaming possessively over your body.
With a firm grip on your hips, he dictates the rhythm of his thrusts, each one a testament to his dominance. Your arms are held in place, you're left feeling exposed, entirely at his mercy. “I could fuck you like this forever,” he muses in a dark whisper
As he relentlessly pounds into you, his cock stretching you beyond your limits, tears well up in your eyes. The sheer force of his thrusts drives you to the brink of madness, each movement sending waves of both pleasure and pain rippling through your body.
“You really thought you could handle me?” he taunts, his voice dripping with disdain as he continues to ravage you without mercy. His words cut through you like a knife, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable beneath his intense gaze.
Despite the overwhelming sensations coursing through you, there’s a perverse sense of pleasure that accompanies the pain and humiliation. You find yourself surrendering to him completely, lost in the primal rhythm of his thrusts and the raw power he exudes.
Your cries mingle with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the room filled with the symphony of your shared desire. “That’s it,” he growls, his voice low and menacing. “Take it all”
Each thrust drives you closer to the edge of sanity, your body trembling with the exquisite torment of his rough ministrations. The pleasure-pain dichotomy consumes you entirely, leaving you lost in a haze of ecstasy and agony.
You feel completely overwhelmed by him, your senses drowning in the intoxicating cocktail of desire and desperation. The need to please him at any cost drives you to new heights of submission, your every thought and action dedicated to his satisfaction.
His reaction is one of twisted satisfaction, his grin a sinister reflection of the dominance he wields over you. He takes perverse pleasure in your tears, viewing them as a testament to his power and control. With each sob that escapes your lips, he revels in the knowledge that he holds your very soul in his hands, a willing captive to his every whim.
“I-I’m so close,” you gasp out between ragged breaths, your voice trembling with desperation. “Please, let me cum.”
His response is immediate and commanding. His hands wrap around your throat with a firm grip. As he tightens his hold, you feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins, intensifying the sensations overwhelming your body. At the same time, his other hand delivers a sharp, stinging spank to your cheek, sending a jolt of mixed pleasure and pain radiating through you.
“You don’t get to cum until I say so,” he growls, his voice low and authoritative. “Remember that.”
"Please," you beg, your voice strained with desperation. "I need you to cum inside me. Fill me up."
His resolve breaks at your plea, his control slipping as he gives in. Sunghoon ravages you mercilessly, his own release momentarily forgotten as he focuses solely on driving you to the brink of pleasure. His hands roam over your trembling body, his touch igniting sparks of electricity that dance along your skin. He holds you close and with one final thrust, he sends you hurtling over the edge into blissful oblivion.
As the pleasure builds to an unbearable peak, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. Your body trembles with anticipation, every nerve ending alive with sensation. With a primal cry, you shatter into a million pieces, your orgasm consuming you completely. Waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you gasping for air as you ride the euphoric high.
Shortly after, with a primal roar, he releases inside you, his hot seed flooding your depths as you both reach the peak of ecstasy together. Waves of pleasure wash over you, leaving you breathless and sated in each other's embrace.
He removes his cock from you, a mixture of wetness and cum slipping out in its wake. With a firm grip, he manhandles you, turning you around to face him. His touch is surprisingly gentle, a complete contrast to the roughness with which he just fucked you. Using his thumb, he wipes away the mascara trailing down your face, his expression softening as he takes in your fucked-out appearance.
Your eyelids droop with exhaustion, but before you can succumb to sleep, he speaks with a gentleness that catches you off guard. "Don't sleep just yet. I need to get you cleaned up." The difference in his tone leaves you feeling dizzy and confused, his soft eyes meeting yours.
Later on, you’re all cleaned up, thanks to him running a bath for you and cleaning your body with your favorite scent of soap. There were lingering kisses and massages, and he even sat in the bath with you, sharing in the intimacy of the moment. Now, you’re in your pajamas, feeling cozy and comfortable, then he asks if he can stay. It’s late so you nod in agreement. That was the only reason. He settles onto your bed, his eyes closing with a contented smile.
But suddenly, you get up, breaking the serene atmosphere. “I need to clean the apartment,” you declare, and he laughs at first, thinking it’s a joke. However, his expression turns serious when he realises you’re not joking.
‘Did the four positions and the five times I made you cum not make you sleepy?’ He questions from behind you.
You turn to him, shaking your head. “It was not four —”
You feel the heat rising to your cheeks as he lists them off. “Missionary, from the back and then against the wall in the shower. You also rode my cock in the shower.’ His words send a shiver down your spine and you gulp. Where did this sex drive come from?
“I just counted, and I made you cum six times,” he adds with a satisfied grin.
You roll your eyes. “Do you count the amount of times you’ve made a girl cum for every girl you sleep with?”
He winks, his voice bringing chills to your spine. “Only you.”
As he leans down beside you, your heart skips a beat. “What do you need help with?” he asks, his gaze locking deeply with yours. Despite the tired lines etched on his face, he alludes such an effortless attractiveness. He was incredibly magnetising and radiant, basking in a sex afterglow.
Your voice is soft and gentle as you speak. “We dropped so many lego sets… I could do with some help putting them back together.”
He smiles warmly and nods, his tired eyes twinkling with affection. "Let's do it."
As you both delve into the intricate world of Lego, your fingers deftly reassembling the scattered pieces, you find yourself opening up to Sunghoon in a way you never have before.
“You know… no one ever wants to build them with me, this is quite surprising,” you admit, your eyes fixated on the task at hand.
He hums in response, his attention fully captured by your words. “It’s not common for people in their 20s to be into Lego,” he remarks, his tone tinged with curiosity.
As you delve into the details of your Lego collection, Sunghoon’s genuine interest shines through. He listens intently as you recount the origins of each set, marking the first time you’ve shared this hobby so thoroughly. “I got this one from a fair I went to when I was 12, my uncle got me this one, Nayoung got me this one,” you explain, a nostalgic smile playing on your lips.
His curiosity peaks as he spots a rare Lego set on your shelf, one he surprisingly recognizes by name. “How the fuck did you get that one?” he asks, pointing directly at it.
You respond with a deadpan expression, “I camped out at 3am in the winter to get it.” The absurdity of the situation hits both of you at once, sparking uncontrollable laughter.
Sunghoon, catching his breath, manages to say, “Tough,” with a mix of admiration and amusement in his voice.
“Did anyone get you this one?” Sunghoon points at a very rare and expensive set, his eyes glowing with awe. It’s one that was already made, one of your prized possessions, you were glad it was still in tact.
You giggle, a smile lighting up your face as you give him the go-ahead to touch it. You don’t let anyone touch your Lego collection. Especially that set.
An immediate smile lights up your face, and you nod. “Sunwoo got me that one,” you say, relishing the memory. It was one of his random gifts, one that cheered you up when you needed it most.
“Kim Sunwoo? You’re friends with him?” Sunghoon’s curiosity peaks, his surprise at the mention of Sunwoo not shocking you.
You nod. “My best friend.”
“You seem really different from each other,” Sunghoon observes.
“We are,” you agree. It’s a common observation, one that you’ve heard countless times before. Sunwoo spends his time getting high and indulging in casual sex; he’s the ultimate fuck boy. But despite his wild ways, he’s also your best friend. He’s intense, but you need him in your life. “People say opposites attract, we balance each other out well. Plus, I’ve known him since we were kids.”
“Are you trying to tell me that you don’t spend your time getting laid because the things you were doing when we were fucking… it takes experience to —”
You interject with a soft whisper, “I’m not a virgin.” You anticipate a reaction from him, but he surprises you by simply smiling and nodding in acknowledgment.
“It was clear when I was fucking you,” he explains calmly, “I could tell it wasn’t your first time.”
Your laughter fills the room, accompanied by a blush coloring your cheeks. “It’s just that there’s a ridiculous rumor that goes around that I’m some Christian girl who’s waiting until marriage and that I’m untouched when it’s not true.”
Sunghoon’s curiosity persists. “Why did that rumor start?”
Shrugging slightly, you respond, “I don’t even know… I guess people just see me as a quiet and shy person and automatically equate that to me being innocent and clueless. I’m very private; I keep my sexual life on the low. I don’t gossip about it or talk about things like that openly, even to my closest friends. They’re my best friends, so they know I’ve had sex before, but they still join in on the joke that I’m a Christian virgin just to wind me up.”
As Sunghoon hums thoughtfully, you sense his presence beside you, his silence speaking volumes. Despite not responding verbally, you know he's listening intently, absorbing every word you say. His attentive demeanour reassures you, reminding you that he's there, fully engaged in the conversation. It's a rare quality that you appreciate, his ability to be present and attentive without the need for constant verbal affirmation.
“Why did you start playing bass?” Sunghoon’s question catches you off guard, his gaze lingering on the eccentric blue bass in the corner of the room in a way that makes your head spin.
You can’t help but giggle at his curiosity. “I was kinda forced to, actually.”
“Really?” His surprise is evident in his voice.
You nod, recalling how Sunwoo had roped you into joining his band. “It’s Sunwoo’s band, and he needed a bass player. He decided it was going to be me, so he taught me how to play. He’s very serious about his band, you know. His major is music, so it makes sense. Sunwoo’s good at everything. He can sing, rap, dance, and play any instrument. I’m the bassist in the band, but he’s better than me at playing it.”
Sunghoon shakes his head with a smile. “Don’t say that. You’re such a natural at playing bass.”
You offer him a grateful smile in return, touched by his compliment.
“I didn’t see Sunwoo at the gig, though,” Sunghoon observes, his gaze lingering on your face.
“Or Winter,” you add, a burst of laughter escaping your lips. Sunghoon’s eyebrow quirks up in confusion.
“She’s our main vocalist and plays piano. She wasn’t there either because Sunwoo was balls deep inside of her,” you explain, amusement evident in your voice. “She’s our fifth main vocalist, and we’re probably gonna need to replace her soon. Sunwoo keeps fucking the main vocalists in the band, and they always leave because it makes everything awkward and tense.”
Sunghoon shakes his head, a wry smile playing on his lips. “Sounds like him.”
You nod in agreement, a knowing look passing between you. “He can’t keep his fucking cock in his pants. Always has to go fuck the woman in the group.”
Sunghoon chuckles in response, the sound warm and genuine.
You and Sunghoon have been talking for what felt like hours.
The ease of conversation made it feel like you've known each other for much longer. You didn’t expect to have so much in common with him, you didn’t expect the conversation to flow as smoothly as it did, you also didn’t expect for him to actually stay, especially after you had finished having sex.
His confidence and appeal enhance the atmosphere. Sunghoon's casual demeanor sets the tone the moment he begins to speak, his confidence is almost dripping from him, as if it's part of the very air around him. He's got this cool, laid-back vibe that's utterly captivating, standing here in your apartment as if it's the most natural thing in the world.
Sunghoon's gaze holds yours, an unspoken intensity lingering in the way he looks at you. There's an undeniable attractiveness in his focus, in the deliberate way he gives you his undivided attention. Each time he listens, it's with an intensity that makes the moment stretch, filling it with an undeniable tension.
His eyes, expressive and deep, seem to capture and reflect every flicker of emotion, making the connection between you feel both electrifying and profoundly intimate. His smile, when it breaks, is like a slow dawn, gradually illuminating his features and warming the space between you.
You bond about little things but in retrospect they were big, they were such specific and unique things, things that were so special to you.
You give him a tour of your apartment, showing him around with a sense of pride. Each room holds a piece of you, and you’re eager to share it with him. As you lead him through the space, you point out your prized possessions, sharing the stories behind each one.
“This is where I keep my vinyl collection,” you explain, gesturing towards a shelf filled with records. He pauses, running his fingers over the sleek covers with a sense of appreciation.
“Your taste is… amazing.”
He believes in those words even more when you show him your book collection, you're surprised to find that Sunghoon has read them all. You point out one of the most important books to you, ‘A Thousand Splendid Suns’ and as you're about to recite your favourite line, he says it at the same time as you. “One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs, or the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls.” you both say in unison, the words echoing in the room.
The eye contact that follows is strong and intense, making you feel weak in the knees. You want to look away, but you can't tear your gaze from his. He's captivating, and in that moment, you feel a magnetic connection that transcends words.
You sit surrounded by your closest friends in a secluded corner of the student lounge. You and Eunji are working on university assignments and projects, both studying musical arts. The steady hum of youthful chatter and the clatter of laptop keys fail to distract you. You’re here but you’re not really here. The noise around you fades into the background as thoughts of Sunghoon consume your mind every time you close your eyes.
Your mind relentlessly replays the sensation of Sunghoon's lips against yours, the way his hands explored every inch of your body, and the intensity in his eyes as he gazed at you. The memory of his touch lingers, leaving you dazed and confused. And then there's his cock, thick and pulsating with desire, the mere thought of it sending a shiver down your spine. It's as if his presence has etched itself into every corner of your mind, dominating your thoughts and leaving little room for anything else.
You try to push the memories aside, to focus on the task at hand, but it's no use. His image, his touch, his presence, his lips—it all feels so real. To make matters worse, Eric and Nayoung keep probing and probing.
“Y/N!!!!!” Nayoung interrupts your thoughts. “Are you ready to tell us what happened last night?” she asks with a mischievous wink, raising her eyebrows suggestively, and you immediately understand the implication. You discretely shush her, promising to tell her later, not wanting to draw attention, but nothing ever slips past Eric’s sharp eyes.
As you’re grappling with the weight of your previous conversation, Sunwoo walks in, offering what you hope might be a timely distraction.
The moment he enters, you shoot him an accusatory glare. “You left me and Eric stranded yesterday! We had to find two people willing to perform with us last minute,” you scold, your frustration evident in your tone.
Sunwoo shrugs nonchalantly. “Yeah, I was balls deep inside of Ryujin,” he says casually, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.
You turn to him, tutting and shaking your head in disbelief. But deep down, you’re not truly surprised. “Really? Again?” you sigh, knowing all too well the consequences of Sunwoo’s actions.
Ryujin, the lead vocalist and keyboard player in your band, was now the latest victim of Sunwoo’s need of fucking the lead vocalists. It has become a recurring theme in your band’s history. Sunwoo's habit of sleeping with the lead vocalists inevitably leads to their departure from the band, as they realize he's only interested in a fling without any emotional attachment.
There had been four lead vocalists before Ryujin who had left for the same reason, and now she was the fifth. It was a cycle that seemed impossible to break, it was annoying but it was pretty funny.
“Pay up,” Eric demands, holding out the money jar to Sunwoo. With a roll of his eyes, Sunwoo begrudgingly adds a £5 note to the jar, another contribution to Eric’s growing collection of Sunwoo’s indiscretions.
Sunwoo lets out a deep sigh, his head tilting back against the cool wall with a suggestive noise that’s entirely inappropriate for 8 AM on a Monday morning. He’s always horny, he was missing Ryujin, missing her pussy.
The brief distraction provided by Sunwoo’s antics quickly fades as Eric, always persistent, picks up the previous line of questioning. He laughs loudly, turning to face you with an expression that feels a bit too much like an interrogation. You brace yourself, knowing exactly where he’s heading with this.
Eric lets out a loud laugh, turning to you like it was an an interrogation, letting you know he wouldn’t drop it you instantly know what he’s going to say. “Where did you run off to after the gig?” he questions, but before you can respond, he answers for you. “I did see a certain Park Sunghoon checking you out.”
Silence fills the room, and then Nayoung screams in excitement. “They fucked!!! They had sex!!! Look, it’s all over Y/N’s face, she’s practically basking in the afterglow of Park Sunghoon’s massive cock.”
The room erupts into laughter, and you can feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment as everyone turns their attention to you, leaving you wishing for the floor to swallow you whole.
You groan and sit there silently, wearing a defeated expression as Eric and Nayoung exchange comments and jokes, teasing you mercilessly. Sunwoo, however, remains silent, his expression unreadable as always, leaving you feeling perplexed by his demeanour.
He turns to face you subtly, and all he says is, “Really?” before breaking into a smirk.
You shoot Sunwoo a deadpan look. “You’re not allowed to judge me. You keep fucking our lead vocalists out of the group!”
As Sunwoo is about to defend himself, Eric’s playful smirk and words cut him off. “Hey, missed a spot?” he quips, at first you narrow your eyes in confusion but then you gulp when you realise he’s talking about the concealer on your neck. A suggestive grin plays on his lips. “Need some help covering up all those hickeys Sunghoon left all over your neck? I’m sure Nayoung has some concealer in her bag.”
You shoot him a warning look, shushing him with a nervous glance around the room. “Keep it down, Eric,” you hiss, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “People could be listening.”
Nayoung, always one to push boundaries, takes it a step further. “Hey, do you need to order a new bed frame?” she asks innocently, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “I’m sure yours has broken after Sunghoon fucked you in it all night long.”
Eric's teasing hits a nerve, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. "Seriously though, I heard that you were moaning like a bitch in heat," he says with a sly grin, his words laced with mischief.
You roll your eyes, trying to brush off his remarks. "You weren't even there," you retort, hoping to shut down the conversation before it escalates any further.
But Eric wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Oh, did you want me to be there? To watch?" he asks, his tone playful yet suggestive. "I didn't have you down as a kinky bitch, Y/N," he adds with a smirk, clearly enjoying getting under your skin.
You huff in frustration. "Oh? You don't want me to watch but to join in? I'm down! And so is Sunghoon, I heard he lost his virginity to not one girl but two girls... at the same time," Eric continues, his grin widening at the shocked expression on your face.
“That’s not true, he lost it to Arin. But he’s been in plenty of threesomes and orgies too,” Nayoung drops casually, her knowledge of everyone’s secrets almost uncanny. She even knew about your first time, despite your best efforts to keep it private.
“Arin?” you respond, taken aback. “Isn’t she the one from our classes with that angelic voice?”
“Yeah she studied music and she’s also a bitch,” Nayoung doesn’t hold back.
You huff. “Really? She looks quite sweet.”
“She’s got talent, sure, but she’s like a snake. All sweet to your face then she strikes when you’re not looking,” she continues with a grimace.
“You’re just pissed because after you fucked Sunghoon, he ghosted you,” Sunwoo chimes in, unable to resist teasing her.
“Why did he ghost you?” you ask, intrigued by the drama unfolding.
“Because he went back to fucking Arin,” Nayoung says, a hint of bitterness in her voice.
You scratch your neck, ignoring this sinking feeling. “Did they ever actually date?”
Nayoung shrugs. “I don’t think they dated, just fucked. But she’s been the one constant in his bed. Seems like they’re casual fuck buddies, on and off whenever it suits them.”
Sunwoo’s expression catches you off guard, his eyebrows arching in genuine confusion. “Y/N? Are you jealous?” he probes, clearly trying to understand your reaction.
Quick to dispel any misconceptions, you respond firmly, making sure there’s no room for doubt. “No! We only had sex, nothing else. There’s nothing to be jealous over,” you assert, hoping to shut down any further speculation about your feelings towards the situation.
However you can’t supress the swirls of discomfort and confusion inside you, unsettling you more than you'd like to admit. Arin’s history with Sunghoon, something intense and vaguely defined, gnaws at your peace, leaving you to wonder about the legitimacy of your feelings. Was it valid for you to even be jealous?
But as these thoughts churn, the lounge's doors swing open, and a group of engineering students enters, breaking your inward spiral. Sunghoon is among them, still dressed in his work attire—an apron dusted from a practical session, and a tool belt loosely hanging around his hips. The engineering gear marks a stark contrast against the casual styles of your graphic tee and jeans, emphasising the divide between your worlds.
Your eyes instinctively find him as he walks in. He's laughing with his friends, completely at ease, seemingly untouched by the intense sex you had just hours ago. He looks so calm, so put together. It's as if he's able to effortlessly recompose himself, while you're still reeling from the memories and his touch. It’s as if the night you shared was just another ordinary event for him.
As Sunghoon adjusts his apron, a simple yet deliberate action, your gaze inevitably travels to his hands—those same hands that had so expertly explored the depths of you just hours earlier. The casual way he shifts the strap of his tool belt, his fingers brushing against the coarse fabric, vividly conjures memories of how those very fingers had traced your curves and navigated your folds in a way that left you breathless. The memory of his touch, precise and bold, sends a wave of warmth flooding your cheeks, your body involuntarily responding to the mere thought of his proximity.
He casually stretches his fingers, the joints clicking softly in the quiet of the lounge. The sound, distinct and resonant, wasn't loud enough to be heard by others, but your focus is entirely on him. To you, the soft click echoes significantly, a subtle reminder of the way those fingers had moved with such deliberate intent, exploring and memorising every contour of your body with a precision that left an indelible mark on your senses.
Your gaze can't help but follow the motion of his hands up to his forearms. His sleeves are pushed up slightly, revealing forearms marked by prominent veins that stand out against his skin, tracing paths of strength and vitality. These are the arms that had held you with a confident, yet gentle touch, their power barely restrained as they explored you. The casual way he shifts the strap of his tool belt, his fingers brushing against the coarse fabric, each movement of his hands, the visible veins pulsing slightly with each flex, brings back a rush of sensations, the memory of his touch—both precise and bold—sending a wave of warmth flooding your cheeks.
Caught in this reverie, you almost miss the moment he looks up. His eyes meet yours, and for a suspended heartbeat, the world around you blurs into insignificance. His gaze holds a depth that reflects a shared history, mirroring the intensity of your intimate encounter. It's a knowing look, laden with an unspoken promise, silently communicating that he recalls every detail just as vividly as you do.
Eric’s voice breaks through, calling out, “Hey, Sunghoon!” He motions for him to come over.
As Sunghoon approaches, the simple tee visible beneath his partly open engineering apron catches your eye again. The initials ‘P.S.’ are neatly embroidered on the pocket, adding a personal touch to his otherwise utilitarian outfit. With each step he takes, it seems as though the room rearranges itself to accommodate the energy he brings. Despite there being an empty seat next to Nayoung, Sunghoon bypasses it, choosing instead the space directly beside you. It's a deliberate choice, requiring him to traverse around the table from where he started, signalling his intent to be as close to you as possible.
As he settles down, his body exudes a warmth you can feel even before he fully sits. The proximity is almost too much to handle, his scent—a rich blend of brown sugar, cinnamon, and a hint of citrus, underlined by a masculine note of metal and solder from his engineering lab—fills your senses, making your breath hitch. The unique aroma is both comforting and intoxicating, distinctly Sunghoon, and unmistakably alluring. The scent takes you back to mere hours before when you both had fucked.
His knee brushes against yours as he adjusts in his seat, the simple touch sending a jolt through your body. You catch your breath, your attempt to focus on anything else utterly futile. Sunghoon is here, right next to you, and every fibre of your being is acutely aware of his nearness.
Beside you, Eunji leans closer, her expression a mix of amusement and concern. "You okay?" she whispers, noticing the sudden pallor that has overtaken your features. You manage a nod and offer her a shaky smile, trying to mask the turmoil inside.
As Eric yaps on and on, you find his voice a magnetic force. Just focus on Eric, you repeat internally, seeking any lifeline to distract you. But Sunghoon’s presence is a force impossible to ignore. He leans closer, his body shifting just enough so his knee presses gently against yours under the table.
The subtle contact sends a shiver up your spine as he leans in, his voice a low whisper meant only for your ears, "I didn’t know you were interested in Eric." His words, edged with a teasing undertone, jolt you. The closeness of his mouth to your ear, the warmth of his breath, it all muddles your thoughts
"I… um, he’s fascinating," you reply, your voice a hushed stutter, drowned out almost entirely by the pounding of your heart.
Sunghoon pulls back slightly, his eyes holding yours in a steady, penetrating gaze that seems to delve deeper than the casual jest warrants. He nods, a slow, thoughtful movement, but the intensity doesn't wane. His eyes linger, searching, as if trying to read the unspoken feelings you're struggling so hard to mask.
“Are your legs okay?” Sunghoon asks, his tone serious but with an unmistakable undertone of teasing—a playful provocation he seems unable to resist.
You swallow hard, the sudden dryness in your throat making it difficult to speak. With a slight tremor in your voice, you whisper back, “Yeah.”
“Are you sure?” His smile is soft yet knowing, as he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a breathy whisper. Then, almost as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, his hand finds its way to your thigh. His fingers gently press into your skin, starting a slow, deliberate massage that sends waves of both comfort and electric tension through your body.
His eyes lock with yours, holding the gaze intensely. The world around you seems to blur into the background, all sounds fading away except for the intimate space he’s created. As his hand moves subtly, the connection deepens, communicated through that steady, penetrating eye contact that says more than words ever could.
"What are you thinking about?" he asks, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine.
You offer a shy and closed-off response, "Nothing much." But the truth is, your mind is racing with thoughts of him-his touch, his scent, the way he made you feel.
"What about you?" you ask, trying to gauge his thoughts.
With a devilish grin, he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "I can't stop thinking about the way your pussy clenched around my cock when you came. I also can’t get over how good your ass looked bouncing on my cock.” He whispers, his voice dripping with desire.
As Sunghoon's words swirl around you, suffocating you with their intensity, you gasp for air, feeling the tight grip of panic clenching your chest. Your fingers tighten around the coffee cup, the ceramic surface offering a fleeting sense of stability amidst the whirlwind of sensations. Each breath feels strained, as if the air itself has thickened, making it difficult to draw in the oxygen your body craves. Despite the burning embarrassment prickling at your skin, you cling to the mundane act of sipping your drink, a feeble attempt to anchor yourself.
Sunwoo speaks up from beside you, thankfully shifting the atmosphere with a different topic. "Guys... we need to host auditions for a new lead singer," he announces, clicking off his phone before flicking his eyes between you and Eric, signalling the urgency of the situation.
Nayoung can't help but burst into laughter at Sunwoo's statement. "He's fucked Ryujin so hard she found her way out of the band," she jokes, her comment cutting through the seriousness with her typical irreverence. Her laughter echoes around the group, lightening the mood and drawing a collective chuckle that momentarily dispels the heaviness in your heart.
You’re all in the campus’ performance hall, Spotlights illuminate the stage, casting a warm glow over the polished wooden floors and plush red curtains. You, Sunwoo, and Eric are perched in the judges’ area, positioned strategically to catch every nuance of the performances.
Suddenly, Nayoung rushes into the room with a tray of four steaming coffees, her hurried steps echoing against the polished floor. “I’m sorry I’m late! I’m here now, let’s start!” She shouts as a strand of hair escapes from her bun, framing her delicate features in a soft halo of morning light. Her beauty is striking, even in the early hours of the day. There's an effortless elegance to her appearance, from the way her eyes sparkle with warmth to the curve of her lips as she smiles apologetically.
Nayoung wasn’t a member of the band, and she never had been nor probably ever would be, but she relished the opportunity to judge people, which explained why she always ended up as a judge alongside you, Sunwoo, and Eric.
“Guys, the auditions are starting,” Eric says.
The first person walks in, accompanied by two others. “I thought we were auditioning for a female lead vocalist?” you mumble, confused. But Eric just claps his hands together, excited for what’s to come.
“We’re the Foreign Swaggers,” one of the guys introduces the group name.
“Guys, you know we’re looking for one female lead vocalist, and you guys—” You’re interrupted by Mark Lee, known for being one of the best students in the music department. You know him, you’ve seen him at some parties, he’s friends with Donghyuc who was friends with Sunwoo. Mark was notorious for his talent and popularity among the girls.
“Alright, guys, what’s up,” Mark starts, a hint of nervousness in his voice.
“Yeah,” Jaehyun adds, trying to sound confident.
“What’s up,” Johnny chimes in, his tone more relaxed.
“We’re the, uh— we’re the, uh— Foreign Swaggers,” Mark stutters, trying to maintain composure.
“So, yeah, uh— Johnny’s gonna rap,” Johnny declares.
“I lived in America for four years! That’s why I’m here, man!” Jaehyun boasts.
The audition starts with a beatbox, followed by some mediocre rapping at best. They’re awkward, but there’s a certain charisma about them.
However, Sunwoo cuts them off as soon as their performance ends, not even bothering to judge them. “That’s it, you can go now.” he says hastily, signalling for them to leave.
You were about eight people in, and no one had impressed you yet. No one seemed to fit the image of your band, and you were starting to lose hope. Then, Hwang Yeji walked in, and your eyes lit up, though not as much as Eric and Sunwoo’s. You side-eye them and roll your own eyes, especially as you catch a glimpse of something very familiar in Sunwoo’s eyes—the fire and hunger.
Yeji introduces herself sweetly, with the most beautiful smile and laugh. You hope she can sing well, as visually she matches the image of your band very well. You let out a sigh of relief when she does sing, and she’s really good. Her voice is perfect, and you can already see her in the band.
“I’ve found the voice of an angel. I’ve fallen in love,” Sunwoo breathes heavily, his typical behaviour not surprising you in the least.
“You should view the auditions objectively. You shouldn’t let personal feelings get in the way of your judging,” you say, smirking.
“Shut up,” he replies hastily, unable to deny the truth in your words.
You’re taken aback by the look of genuine admiration in Sunwoo’s eyes. Could it be that he’s actually serious about his feelings for once? You’ve known Sunwoo long enough to recognize when he’s being sincere, and this time, it feels real.
After Yeji finishes her audition, a serene silence envelops the room, filled with admiration and appreciation for her talent. Sunwoo seems ready to offer her the role of lead vocalist on the spot, but you intervene before he can speak.
“Wait,” you interject, ignoring Sunwoo’s eagerness and turning to Yeji with a warm smile. “There’s one more person who wants to audition. Let’s hear her out before making a decision.”
You can feel Sunwoo’s frustration, but you know it’s important to give everyone a fair chance, even if Yeji seems like the perfect fit.
Your heart sinks when you see who walks in
—it's Arin. An unsettling feeling washes over you, stirring up uncertainty that you try to push away, but it lingers like a stubborn shadow. She's so radiant and beautiful, exuding an energy and light that's hard to ignore. You understand why she's so popular; she's captivating in every way.
Of course, you know who she is—someone in the
year above, who seems to have a magnetic pull on everyone around her. All the guys are crazy for her, drawn to her like she's the centre of gravity in the room. And it's not just the guys; even Sunwoo and Eric seem infatuated by her presence, their eyes lingering on her like she's the only thing in the room.
She's sweet, with an infectious laugh and a presence that commands attention. She's the girl every guy wants to fuck and every girl wants to be.
And apparently, she has a beautiful singing voice too?
She's good. Really good. Her voice is like an angel's, filling the room with a captivating melody that earns her instant appreciation from everyone present.
You scoff and shoot a sideways glance at Sunwoo, muttering, "She's so bad."
He just smirks and shakes his head, clearly disagreeing with you. "She's definitely not," Eric chimes in, his voice laced with a dreamy quality that seems to be a common affliction among the guys in the room. Arin has this effect on every single one of them.
Nayoung smirks knowingly and teases, "I thought you didn't care about Sunghoon fucking her?"
You huff in response, denying any emotional investment in the matter. But no matter how much you try to defend yourself, it's clear that they all think your judgement is clouded by the rumour about Sunghoon and Arin.
Sunwoo remarks, "You should view the auditions objectively... You shouldn't let personal feelings get in the way of your judgement," he smirks, a reference to your previous words.
As the crisp autumn evening settled over the campus, the university art gallery was abuzz with activity, its warmly lit interior casting a welcoming glow through the expansive glass doors. Tonight, it hosted the annual student art exhibition, a highlight for the arts department and an event that drew a crowd of eager students, local art enthusiasts, and faculty alike.
You, dressed in a favourite band tee that had seen better days and comfortable, well-worn jeans, felt a surge of excitement as you stepped into the gallery with Nayoung at your side. Your casual outfit, coupled with a pair of sturdy sneakers, was perfect for an evening spent on your feet, moving from one display to another.
As you adjusted the strap of your camera bag and pulled out your camera, the bustling art gallery buzzed around you. “Smileee,” you called out to Nayoung, who obliged with a fake grin and a thumbs-up. You rolled your eyes, she did not want to be here. She looked hot though, styled in her black mini dress and brown leather jacket
As you entered the gallery, the air was filled with the murmurs of impressed spectators and the soft, jazzy undertones of background music that added a sophisticated touch to the evening. The exhibition space was vibrant and packed, walls adorned with an array of artworks that ranged from abstract paintings to complex sculptures and daring installations.
Your eyes widened with genuine appreciation as you took in the scene. The exhibition was a canvas of creativity, each piece telling its own vivid story. Driven by your innate love for art, you began to ramble enthusiastically about the techniques and hidden meanings behind various artworks, pointing out the bold strokes and intricate details that might escape the untrained eye.
Nayoung, trailing slightly behind, matched your pace but not your enthusiasm. Her responses were polite, nodding along and offering the occasional “that’s really cool” or “wow,” though it was clear that her interest lay more in the social than the artistic aspects of the event. Despite this, she was there for you, you had dragged her here.
As you delved deeper into the nuances of a particularly captivating installation—a mixed media piece that utilised recycled materials to comment on consumer culture—Nayoung’s attention occasionally drifted. She was more absorbed in scanning the crowd, perhaps looking for familiar faces or simply taking in the overall ambiance.
You couldn’t help but launch into detailed explanations as you moved from one artwork to another, your enthusiasm bubbling over. “See the way the light is captured here?” you pointed out, gesturing toward a series of dramatic black-and-white photographs that explored the interplay of shadow and light. “It’s all about the angle and timing, which is something we discuss a lot in my music composition classes, except we’re capturing sound, not light.”
Nayoung trailed beside you, her interest clearly elsewhere. With a drink already in hand, thanks to the small flask she'd pulled from the pocket of her leather jacket, she took occasional sips, her other hand frequently fishing her phone out to check messages or scroll through her feed.
"Do you ever get tired of talking about brush strokes?" Nayoung teased, an exasperated but playful tone in her voice as she watched you analyze yet another painting. Her question hung in the air, punctuated by her taking another discreet sip from her flask.
Throughout the evening, Nayoung seemed more intent on steering the conversation away from art and towards more personal topics. "So, let's talk about Sunghoon," she says with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
You sigh inwardly, already anticipating where this conversation is headed. "No," you reply bluntly, hoping to steer the discussion away from your private life.
But Nayoung is undeterred. "Yes!" she insists, her tone teasing.
"So, in what position did he fuck you? How big is his cock?" she asks with a playful smirk, taking a sip of her drink.
You can't help but laugh at her audacity. "Nayoung, you've literally had sex with him. You know how big his cock is," you retort, rolling your eyes.
She tuts mockingly. "Who said I was looking?"
You shoot her a skeptical look. "If I tell you, will you finally leave me alone?" you challenge.
Nayoung nods eagerly, but you can tell she's not entirely sincere in her promise.
"We did it in missionary," you lie smoothly, not wanting to divulge too much. "And his cock? It's about two inches bigger than Eric's," you add truthfully.
Nayoung nearly chokes on her drink, her eyes widening in surprise. "It's that big?" she exclaims, clearly impressed.
You lean in closer, whispering, "You know how big it is! You fucked him too!"
Despite her promise to drop the subject, Nayoung continues to pester you, her questions becoming more probing with each passing moment.
"How was it? Did you feel anything when having sex with him? Anything deeper?" she inquires, her gaze fixated on you with an intensity that makes you uncomfortable.
You shake your head firmly, maintaining your composure. "Absolutely nothing," you lie smoothly, not yet ready to divulge the details of your encounter with Sunghoon-especially not the parts that still make your heart race just thinking about them.
While you were mid-sentence, breaking down the complexity of an abstract painting that caught your artistic eye, a movement at the entrance abruptly halted your train of thought. Sunghoon strolled in, he was impossible to miss, He had shifted the room's focus. He moved with an unassuming confidence that drew looks from every corner, a quiet testament to his presence. You watched, just for a moment, as all eyes flickered toward him.
He wore a plain white tee that seemed to accentuate his toned figure, paired with jeans that fit just right. His hair, effortlessly swept back, gave him a look that was both polished and carefree. Jake, his best friend, was by his side, the light catching his blonde hair, a relaxed figure in his hoodie. But it was Sunghoon who had stolen the moment, his mere presence causing your heart to skip a beat and your words to stumble into silence.
Reacting instinctively, you reached out and clasped Nayoung’s arm, diverting her mid-chuckle into a quick detour. “Let’s check out the sculptures,” you said hastily, feeling the weight of Sunghoon’s unintended intrusion tighten around your chest as you steered both yourself and Nayoung toward a distant corner of the gallery.
Concealed behind the angular shadows of a towering metal sculpture, you and Nayoung stood secluded from the gallery’s hum. Its cool, hard surface offered a strange comfort, a silent ally amidst the turmoil within you. Nayoung’s face, usually so composed, now mirrored concern. “Why are you hiding from him? Haven’t you talked to Sunghoon since that night?” Her voice, though soft, seemed to fill the entire space around you.
Leaning against the sculpture’s chill offered a small reprieve, its coldness a stark counter to the warmth flushing your skin. Words felt like distant things, hard to grasp, harder to voice. You responded not with words but with a faint shake of your head, the motion carrying the weight of unspoken confessions.
“Y/N, this is messy,” Nayoung said, her voice layered with a mix of reprimand and concern.
“He messages me,” you found your voice, albeit shaky, “tries to talk to me, to come up to me on campus.” The words felt heavy, laden with a confusion that seemed to cloud your thoughts.
Nayoung’s smile flickered with a glimmer of hope. “That’s good, right? It means he’s interested in you,” she reasoned, her smile fading into a frown as she caught the turmoil twisting your features.
You sucked in a breath, feeling trapped in the sculpture’s cast shadow, a dim refuge from the gallery’s soft lights. “I don’t know how to face him,” you admitted, your whisper barely rising above the hush of distant conversations. “That night was overwhelming, and now… now I’m just lost.”
“Why are you so scared if that night meant nothing to you?” Nayoung probed gently, her fingers interlacing with yours in a solid, warm grip.
You covered your face with your free hand, rubbing at your eyes as if you could wipe away the uncertainty. “I don’t know what it meant. I’m confused. It’s all just so intense, so much for my heart… I’ve never felt this way, and it’s terrifying.” The words tumbled out, a chaotic mix of fear and longing. “Every time I close my eyes, I see him.”
“I’m scared, Nayoung. I’m scared of what I’m feeling, of what all this might mean.” Your words hung suspended, resonating with the same enduring presence as the art around you.
Nayoung didn’t release your hand; instead, she drew you closer, a pillar of support in the echoing vastness of the gallery. “It’s okay to be scared,” she assured you. “But hiding here won’t answer any of your questions. You can’t let fear hold you back.” Her encouragement was soft but firm, a gentle push toward the clarity you so desperately needed.
You nod. As you step backward, ready to leave the comfort of the sculpture’s shadow, your movement is abruptly halted by a solid, unexpected barrier. A quick gasp escapes your lips as you spin around, words of apology already forming, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”
Your voice trails off when you see it’s Sunghoon you’ve bumped into. His presence, so close and unexpected, sends a jolt through you that’s part shock, part something more electric. For a split second, you’re frozen.
He stands mere inches away, his expression initially mirroring the tired detachment you’ve seen in Nayoung’s eyes tonight, suggesting he’d rather be anywhere but here. But the moment his gaze meets yours, something shifts. There’s a flicker of something more intense, more profound.
Your eyes lock with his for a fleeting second, and in that brief exchange, his look deepens, becoming electric and unreadable. The air around you thickens as if charged by this sudden connection, leaving your heart pounding not just with nervousness but with a bewildering rush of emotions that you can’t quite decipher. His presence envelops you, intense and palpable, drawing you into a moment you both seem reluctant to break, yet overwhelmed to sustain.
Sunghoon, dressed casually but looking every bit the effortless figure who haunts your quieter moments, just smiles slightly. His voice, when he speaks, is soft and carries an undertone of warmth that only adds to your turmoil. “It’s a beautiful sculpture, isn’t it?” he comments, his eyes lingering on yours, trying to capture your gaze.
You notice the slight upturn of his lips—a knowing, almost teasing smirk that suggests he might understand more than he lets on. But you can’t hold his gaze, your eyes darting away after a fleeting, charged moment of eye contact that sends an array of sensations coursing through you. It’s too much, too intense—every nerve ending seems to scream, your skin tingling from the nearness of him.
With a rushed, barely audible excuse, you stutter, “Sorry, gotta get to the lecture!!!” Your hand shoots out, finding Nayoung’s, and without waiting for a response, you pull her away from Sunghoon and the sculpture, eager to escape into the crowd. Nayoung follows without protest, casting an amused glance back at Sunghoon, who stands there watching you leave, his expression unreadable.
As you navigate through the throng of people, your pulse racing, you don’t dare look back. The brief interaction leaves you with a flood of emotions you’re not ready to dissect—not here, not now. Nayoung remains silent beside you, her presence a comforting constant as you put distance between yourself and Sunghoon. Your escape feels both like a victory and a defeat, the complex emotions swirling inside you mirroring the intricate artworks you leave behind.
Nayoung’s laughter echoed in the otherwise quieting atmosphere of the lecture hall as you both settled into the back left corner. “Would you stop?” you whispered harshly, crossing your arms and sinking lower into your seat, though a secret smile tugged at your lips for securing such a strategically secluded spot.
“I’m just happy we got the best seats in the house,” you added with a pout, pretending to sulk yet relieved by the thought that Sunghoon wouldn’t easily spot you here.
The hall gradually filled, the buzz of conversation growing as students gathered. Your heart skipped a beat when Sunghoon walked in, accompanied by Jake. They took seats a few rows ahead, seemingly unaware of your presence. You let out a silent breath, hoping to remain unnoticed.
Professor Doyoung, widely recognized as the best arts professor at the university, began the lecture with his usual charismatic flair. Today’s session was special—a celebration of student achievements, spotlighting various art pieces and sculptures. The room dimmed slightly as the projector lit up with images of student artwork.
Your pulse quickened when a photo of your own creation appeared on the screen. The room filled with murmurs of admiration, but your own heart pounded for an entirely different reason. “And here we have an outstanding piece by one of our brightest students,” Professor Doyoung announced, his voice filling the lecture hall with enthusiastic approval. “This innovative work was created by none other than Y/N, whose artistic vision and execution have consistently impressed us.”
As he showered you with praise, detailing the depth and creativity behind your work, a sense of pride mixed with intense embarrassment washed over you. It was meant to be an anonymous exhibition, yet here was Professor Doyoung, breaking protocol because he believed certain students deserved recognition for their efforts.
While you appreciated the acknowledgment, your cheeks burned hotter when Professor Doyoung, spotting you trying to sink further into your seat, pointed you out to the entire auditorium. “Let’s give a round of applause to Y/N, sitting right at the back there, for such a brilliant contribution!”
The audience’s applause thundered in your ears, but it was the sound of bodies shifting and heads turning that heightened your anxiety. Sunghoon turned around, his eyes scanning the crowd before settling on you. When your gazes locked, a silent jolt of electricity shot through you. His expression transformed from casual interest to a more intense, unreadable look, tinged with a hint of a smile that seemed both knowing and curious.
The world around you seemed to blur into the background as the two of you maintained eye contact. The warmth of his smile, despite the distance, sent waves of nerves dancing up your spine, mixing with a thrill that you couldn’t quite suppress. You felt exposed yet oddly seen, the kind of visibility that made your stomach twist yet somehow left you wanting more.
You averted your gaze first, looking down at your lap as your face heated up. Beside you, Nayoung nudged you gently, a silent gesture of support—or perhaps encouragement to acknowledge the connection you obviously had with Sunghoon, one that seemed to extend beyond mere academic coincidences.
The lecture continued, but your mind was elsewhere, caught up in the whirlwind of emotions triggered by that brief yet impactful exchange of looks with Sunghoon. Your heart still raced, not just from the public praise but because of him.
After the lecture, you spot Jake lingering near the front of the room. Despite sharing a few classes, your interactions had always been casual—pleasant exchanges about coursework and occasional class discussions. Jake was known for his calm demeanor, a stark contrast to Sunghoon’s more dynamic presence. Now, with your recent involvement with Sunghoon weighing on your mind, you find yourself curious about their friendship. They seemed like opposites yet clearly got along so well, everyone knew they were best friends, brothers even. Perhaps it was true what they said about opposites attracting.
As you’re methodically packing up your things, Jake approaches with a gentle ease that diminishes the room’s formality. His presence feels like a quiet reassurance in the noisy aftermath of the lecture.
“He went ahead, you don’t need to worry,” Jake says softly, noticing the tightness in your expression. It catches you off-guard how observant he is, how he seems to catch even the subtlest shifts in your mood.
You gulp, a bit flustered by his insight. “I—”
“I think he’s really intrigued by you, you know,” Jake continues, his voice warm and encouraging. “I don’t know why, but he seems genuinely interested in getting to know you better. You always seem to run the other way, though.” His smile is gentle, nudging you towards reconsideration without pushing too hard. “Maybe you should give him a chance; Sunghoon’s actually a decent guy.”
“I’m not intentionally trying to avoid him,” you confess, the words tumbling out in a rush. “He just… makes me nervous.”
Jake’s chuckle is soft, a sound that spreads calm. He reaches out, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder for a fleeting moment, grounding you. “He makes everyone nervous at first. You get used to it,” he reassures, his touch light but affirming. “Who knows, you might even start to like it. I know I like it.” You can’t help but giggle when he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.
“I know it might seem like he’s intense, and yeah, he’s serious when it comes to things and people he cares about. But he’s also really chill once you get to know him better. He’s the kind of person you’d want in your corner,” he explains, his tone earnest.
“He doesn’t just give his attention and effort to anyone,” Jake continues, his eyes locking with yours to emphasise his point. “So don’t take it for granted or push him away. You might lose his interest forever, and trust me, you’d miss it. He’s someone you really want in your life. He's a really good guy..”
His comforting grin lingers as he steps back, giving you space to process his words. With a friendly nod, Jake walks away, leaving a trail of thoughtfulness behind him. His advice resonates with you, stirring a mix of anticipation and resolve. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to confront your nerves and see where things with Sunghoon could lead.
The crisp morning air nips at your skin as you traverse the campus pathway, lost in the world curated by your playlist. With every sip of your coffee, you feel the warmth spread through you, contrasting with the coolness of the day. Your steps are unhurried, a rare moment of solitude embraced amidst the hustle of your life.
Suddenly, a gentle tap on your shoulder pulls you from your reverie. You pull out one earbud, turning to see Sunghoon standing behind you. Despite the flutter in your stomach, you remember Jake’s words: Don’t push him away. Taking a deep breath, you muster a smile, not just any smile, but one that reaches your eyes, showing Sunghoon you’re here in this moment with him.
“Hey,” Sunghoon greets, his voice smooth, drawing a line of warmth up your spine despite the autumn chill.
You manage a nod, trying to appear composed. “Hi, Sunghoon,” you reply, your voice steadier than you feel. His gaze is intense, and you find yourself unable to meet his eyes directly, focusing instead slightly over his shoulder.
As you walk together, Sunghoon’s voice breaks through the crisp air. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for the last month now…”
Every attempt he made to bridge the gap between you was met with your nervous laughter or hasty excuses. His presence—so wanted yet so overwhelming—left you fumbling, your words tripping over your rapid heartbeat. But today you would handle things differently.
Or so you wished.
His voice seemed to blend into the background, making it difficult to focus. “Are you free this weekend?” he asked, a simple question that felt loaded with possibilities. Is he asking you out? Or is this just casual?
The campus around you felt unusually constricted as pairs of eyes turned to follow your interaction, their stares prickling uncomfortably on your skin. The judgmental looks from passing students, especially from girls who eyed you with undisguised envy or disdain, made it challenging to concentrate on Sunghoon’s words.
Sunghoon closes the distance between you with a measured step, his presence enveloping you in a subtle but undeniable warmth. His fingers tuck a stray hair behind your ear, the contact tender yet anchoring, pulling you back to the moment. His eyes lock onto yours, his voice a soothing whisper, “Just ignore them. Just look at me.”
Your breath catches, the simple command resonating deeply as you murmur, “But they’re all looking at me. At us,” your voice trembles in the air.
He smiles softly, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks as he holds your face with a careful, affectionate grip. “And I want you to look at me,” he insists, his gaze steady and piercing, radiating a calm confidence that makes your heart race yet somehow reassures you.
As Sunghoon's hands gently cradle your face, his thumbs softly caressing your skin, you find yourself nodding as he tells you to focus on him.. The steady throb of your heart begins to calm, settling into a rhythm that feels less frantic, more in tune with the moment. Your eyes lock with his, and as you let yourself truly look at him, all fears begin to melt away. You lean slightly into the warmth of his touch, the tension in your body easing as you allow yourself to be anchored by his presence.
“Are you coming to Sunwoo’s party tonight?” he asks casually, his hands resting gently on your shoulders.
You give a small nod. “Maybe.”
“I hope you’re there,” he says, his tone sincere. “It gives me a reason to go.” He’s always so honest.
“Sunwoo will be dealing, are you sure that’s not reason enough?”
He smirks. “Close second.”
“It’s too much,” Yeji giggles shyly, running her hands over the dress she was going to wear tonight, in awe of the beautiful decorations and sparkles.
Her eyes moved to the brand new microphone Sunwoo had gifted her to congratulate her for winning the auditions and becoming the newest member of the band. “It's definitely too much, I didn't anticipate or expect any of this.”
You shake your head. “It’s not too much, you deserve it all.”
“Plus the dress is stunning, you’ll look beautiful,” you add. The dress was quite out there, adorned with sparkles and glitters. Yeji was definitely going to stand out and be the star of the show. “How did you get a dress as beautiful as that?” you ask.
“I don’t know… it just turned up to my door with a note telling me to wear it!” she responds.
“Sunwoo,” you respond immediately.
You both laugh. You know why he’s throwing this party randomly, with no warning or planning. It’s a surprise party for her, celebrating her joining the band. Sunwoo is welcoming her.
“I bet he buys dresses for all his girls,” she rolls her eyes as she slips into the dress.
“No, he doesn’t,” you say matter-of-factly, shaking your head in astonishment. Yeji was different for him. You could already feel that.
Applying the prettiest shade of pink to her cheeks, you couldn’t help but admire how blush looked so beautiful on Yeji. It complemented her complexion perfectly, adding a touch of radiance to her already glowing skin. As she examined herself in the mirror, a smile lit up her face, and you knew she was going to steal the show tonight.
“Aren’t you going?” she questioned, her eyes glancing over your pyjamas and messy bun.
You sighed softly, feeling the weight of exhaustion and a slight headache creeping in. “I don’t feel well,” you admitted, hoping she’d understand.
“No, you have to come. I’ll be nervous all there by myself,” she pleaded, her voice tinged with genuine concern.
Despite your reluctance, you couldn’t resist her puppy-dog eyes and the genuine warmth in her voice. Yeji had a way of making even the most mundane moments feel special, and you didn’t want to disappoint her.
“You won’t be by yourself,” you assured her with a smile, knowing Sunwoo and Eric would be there to keep her company.
Yeji was a new student, still adjusting to the rhythm of college life, but she had quickly become a familiar presence. Her easygoing nature and infectious enthusiasm had won over the hearts of many, including yours.
But she’s so sweet, and you couldn’t bear to see her disappointed.
“I’ll come,” you relented, knowing that her smile was worth it.
Her eyes lit up with excitement, and she practically bounced off the bed. “We need to get you ready,” she declared, already bustling around the room, gathering clothes and makeup.
As Yeji helps you pick out what to wear, her eyes light up when she spots a particular outfit. “This,” she exclaims, her gaze hungry as she holds up a daringly bold ensemble.
You feel your cheeks flush crimson at the sight of the revealing outfit. “That’s way too much,” you protest, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and excitement at her suggestion.
“But you’ll look so sexy though!” she insists, her excitement infectious as she imagines you rocking the outfit.
Despite your reservations, you can’t deny the thrill of the idea. “I don’t want to draw too much attention…” you murmur, but Yeji is already convincing you otherwise.
In the end, you settle on the cherry blossom pink mini dress she picked out, the soft hue flattering your complexion perfectly. As you change into the outfit, you can’t help but feel a surge of confidence wash over you. You opted for minimal makeup, you wanted to enhance your natural features, and soon you’re both admiring the stunning result in the mirror.
“Your wardrobe is so daring,” Yeji remarks, her eyes scanning through your clothes with awe.
As you step into Sunwoo’s house, a wave of nervousness washes over you despite how familiar you are to this house. It’s practically your second home, yet tonight feels different somehow.
A rush of color and a buzz of activity immediately greet you. You walk through the entryway bathed in vibrant lighting that casts dynamic shadows across the textured, dark-stained wooden walls. The decorations hanging there are bold and modern, each piece making a statement with its bright colours and daring strokes.
Beneath your feet, dark hardwood floors stretch out, absorbing the light and noise, giving the house a grounded, almost intimate feel. In the living area, a group of people lounge on oversized furniture, upholstered in deep, rich tones, chatting over glasses of chilled drinks pulled from stacked ice coolers that blend seamlessly into the decor.
You walk to the backyard where the atmosphere shifts from subdued luxury to a lively party scene. The garden is lit by strategically placed neon lights that highlight the lush greenery with an almost surreal glow. Music pulses in the background, the bassline vibrating softly underfoot.
It was a chaotic blur of vibrant colours, pulsating music, and energetic bodies moving to the rhythm. The air is thick with the smell of alcohol and the haze of cigarette smoke, mingling with the scent of drugs and anticipation.
The sight of so many people, each lost in their own world of intoxication and euphoria, is both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. Everywhere you look, there are couples making out, friends sharing laughter and secrets, and strangers forging connections in the dimly lit corners of the room.
Amidst the chaos, you catch sight of Sunwoo, his expression dazed and his movements sluggish as he navigates through the crowd. He spots you and stumbles over, enveloping you in a drunken hug. “You actually came!” he slurs, planting a sloppy kiss on your forehead before his attention is quickly diverted to Yeji, already taking her hand and leading her somewhere.
As you weave through the lively crowd, the familiar laughter of Nayoung and Eunji draws you in like a beacon. You break into a wide smile, the tension melting away as soon as you see them, both teetering slightly, drinks in hand, their laughter filling the air.
“Heyyyy!” you shout over the music as you approach, arms open wide. They spot you and immediately stumble forward, nearly spilling their drinks in their excitement.
Eunji, with a tipsy grin, throws her arms around you, pulling you into a wobbly hug. “Oh my god, look at you, gorgeous!” she squeals, squeezing you tight. Nayoung joins in, her arms encircling both of you, her laughter contagious.
“We’ve been waiting for you!” Nayoung exclaims, her words slurring just a bit. She steps back to give you a once-over, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Look at you!!!” She whistles, holding your hand above and twirling you around.
As Jake’s advice echoes in your mind, you find yourself fully immersed in the party atmosphere. Surrounded by the pulsing lights and thumping bass, you allow yourself to embrace the carefree spirit of the night. You’re a college student—young, pretty, and ready to let loose. If everyone else can dive into the highs of a college party, why shouldn’t you?
One step at a time. You want to take things slow tonight, hoping to eventually join Nayoung and Eunji on the dance floor, dancing and laughing without a care. But for now, you need a few more drinks to help shake off your inhibitions. Sitting beside Eric, who's thankfully keeping you company, you feel a bit more anchored. He hands you a cup filled with your favourite drink—your first for the evening and hopefully the first of many.
"Y/N, I might be going crazy but everyone seems to be staring at you," he whispers, close enough for only you to hear. You hum in response, your eyes scanning the room. He's right. Unlike other nights where you blended into the background, tonight it feels like you're under a spotlight. Is it because of your earlier encounter with Sunghoon on campus? That thought unsettles you as you realise people had stared then, and they’re obviously staring now.
Not quite drunk enough to completely let go of your inhibitions, you feel the weight of the stares pushing you to the edge. "Let's dance!!!" you suddenly exclaim, seizing Eric's arm and pulling him towards the dance floor where Nayoung and Eunji are already lost in the rhythm. Eric follows, his surprise evident but quickly morphing into enthusiasm as you both join the lively crowd.
You join Nayoung and Eunji on the dance floor, their bodies moving freely to the rhythm of the music. Joining them, the three of you fall into sync, bodies swaying and twirling in a shared rhythm. The energy is infectious, and soon Eric joins in, the four of you forming a tight circle.
Laughter and song blend as you dance, the music enveloping you completely. There’s a moment of pure joy as you all grind against each other, singing at the top of your lungs, the world outside fading away. Tonight, it’s just you, your friends, and the music—nothing else matters.
The relentless pace of the party begins to wear on you, and you wonder how your fellow students manage this every weekend. As your head starts to spin and a wave of dizziness washes over you, you realize you need a break. Muttering a quick excuse, you make your way to the quieter snacks section to catch your breath and steady yourself.
You smile when you see one of your favourite snacks, content to just munch on it, knowing Sunwoo got it just for you. Suddenly, he appears and checks on you, prompting a playful eye roll from you when you realise he’s been absent for the entire night. He was the host and was normally present but he was clearly occupied with Yeji.
You notice lipstick stains scattered across Sunwoo's neck, prompting a raised eyebrow from you. "You already fucked Yeji? Sunwoo, she hasn't even been in the band for a month—"
Sunwoo interrupts, "I haven't fucked her yet. We're just chilling in my room."
Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Really?"
He smiles, nodding. "Yeah. I want to take it slow. I really like her."
Sunwoo puts his arm around your back, concern evident in his voice as he asks, "Are you okay? You look tired. You can go and rest in one of the spare rooms; if anyone's fucking there, I'll kick them out."
You raise an eyebrow, teasing, "You'll walk in on them having sex?"
He shrugs nonchalantly, but you barely register his response. Your attention is suddenly captured by someone else.
Sunghoon.
He's here, partying, and he looks hot. Your eyes instantly gravitate towards him, taking in his appearance. Sunghoon is wearing a fitted button down shirt that manages to accentuate his muscles and toned chest, a chain dangling from his neck, adding to his appeal.
You’re engulfed in a whirlwind of emotions, your heart somersaulting within your chest, each beat a drumroll of anticipation. A nervous energy courses through your veins, setting your skin ablaze with a feverish heat, as if every nerve ending is on high alert, tingling with anticipation. Despite your attempts to remain composed, you can’t shake the feeling of butterflies fluttering wildly in the pit of your stomach, a chaotic dance of excitement and nervousness.
He’s in his element, downing shots with ease, his movements fluid and effortless. Girls press against him, grinding against him, each one vying for his attention. Laughter fills the air and his smile makes your heart twist, his presence is so magnetic and captivating. Despite the chaos around him, he’s the calm in the storm, his confidence unwavering as he basks in the attention of those around him.
The party’s intensity overwhelms you as much as you don’t want to admit it. You can’t help but feel suffocated amidst the pounding music and throngs of people. You need a break. So, you slip away to one of the rooms in Sunwoo’s vast house, seeking solace from the chaos. You were sure no one would find you here, Sunwoo’s house was massive so it was easy to hide away.
This dimly lit room on the lowest floor is your sanctuary, a hidden refuge from the party’s noise. Sinking onto the plush couch, you find comfort in its soft cushions. Closing your eyes, you let out a sigh, feeling the weight of the world lift from your shoulders.
Surrounded by silence, your thoughts fill the space. Reflecting on the evening, you wish you could shed your self-consciousness, to join the fun without fear of judgement. But anxiety holds you back, trapping you in doubt.
Taking a deep breath, you try to let go. In this quiet room, you find peace, if only for a moment, amidst the chaos outside.
Parties always felt like too much for you. The noise, the crowds, the energy—it all overwhelmed you. You'd stand there awkwardly, like a wallflower, while everyone else seemed to thrive in the chaos. You wished you could just let loose, have fun without worrying so much.
The door creaks open, breaking the silence of the empty room. Startled, you look up to see Sunghoon standing there, his presence filling the space with an unexpected intensity. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, time seems to stand still as the connection between you sparks to life. You feel a flutter in your chest, an electrifying sensation that makes your breath catch in your throat. Unable to hold his gaze, you quickly look away, feeling a rush of heat flood your cheeks.
As Sunghoon steps into the room, his energy is different from the chaotic atmosphere of the party. It’s composed, calm, yet brimming with an underlying intensity that sends shivers down your spine. There’s something unspoken in the air, a silent understanding that hangs between you, pulling you closer despite the distance.
He takes a seat beside you, and when you steal a glance at him, you find his eyes already locked onto yours. The intensity of his gaze sends a jolt of electricity through you, and you can’t help but feel drawn to him, as if there’s an invisible thread connecting you both.
As his gaze bores into yours, it feels like he’s peeling away the layers of your soul, seeing you for who you truly are. It’s intense, electric, sending shivers down your spine and igniting a fire deep within. His eyes hold a mixture of curiosity, desire, and a hint of something more profound, leaving you breathless and longing for more.
In a soft voice that sends tingles down your spine, he asks, “Why aren’t you enjoying yourself? Why did you come?” His words are laced with concern, genuine and caring, yet there’s an underlying tone of desire that makes your heart race.
You can’t help but laugh nervously, the sound echoing in the quiet room. “I came for my friends, but I already regret it… I don’t know why I can’t let myself have fun, I really don’t know… I tried to let loose but I just can’t.” Your voice trails off, filled with uncertainty and self-doubt.
His response is like a bolt of lightning, unexpected and thrilling. “That’s a shame… The prettiest girl here tonight should be enjoying herself,” he says, his words dripping with charm and confidence. The way he looks at you, coupled with his bold statement, sends a rush of heat straight to your core.
Feeling a mixture of surprise and desire, you meet his gaze head-on, your eyes locking in a silent exchange filled with unspoken longing. “I-I…” you stutter, unable to form coherent words as his proximity overwhelms you. “I… thank you,” you manage to whisper, your cheeks flushing with heat as you avert your gaze, feeling his intense presence enveloping you like a warm embrace.
“But I’m definitely not the prettiest girl here tonight, not even close. Have you seen Yeji? Or Nayoung and Eunji? Or Karina? I even saw you dancing with her, and I don’t blame you if you left with her tonight because she’s breathtaking and—” Your words tumble out in a rush, cheeks flushing crimson as you realise how much you’ve said. Fortunately, he cuts you off with a forward tone, sending your heart racing again.
“You’re prettier than all of them,” he declares, his words laced with confidence and desire.
“Why aren’t you partying right now? Did you follow me here?” you question, narrowing your eyes at him. His chuckle sends shivers down your spine as he shakes his head. “I was partying, then I saw you and realised you were here. I saw Sunwoo with you and got distracted. I didn’t follow you, I just wanted to find a room that no one would be in, and that’s how I came here…” His words hang in the air, leaving you speechless and breathless.
As he moves closer, you feel your pulse quicken, his presence overwhelming yet comforting. “Why can’t you look me in the eyes?” he asks softly, his fingers gently lifting your chin to meet his gaze. You try to avert your eyes, but his touch guides your focus back to him.
“Why do you always look at me like that?” you finally muster the courage to whisper, the intensity of his gaze leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.
“Like what?” he replies, his tone smug yet enticing, as if he’s enjoying the effect he has on you.
“Like you’ve seen me naked,” the words spill out, unfiltered and honest, hanging between you in the charged air. It feels like a confession, a secret desire laid bare, but instead of recoiling, he leans in closer, a smirk playing on his lips.
Without a word, he closes the distance between you, capturing your lips in a heated passion that sends sparks flying. His lips are warm and demanding against yours, moulding perfectly to fit as if they were made to kiss yours. The taste of him is intoxicating, a heady mix of brown sugar and whiskey that ignites a fire within you. Your hands instinctively find their way to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his soft hair as you pull him closer, deepening the kiss.
There's a primal hunger in the way he kisses you, a raw, animalistic need that leaves you breathless and wanting more. His tongue dances with yours in a tantalising rhythm, exploring every crevice of your mouth as if he's trying to imprint himself on you.
Moans escape your lips as the kiss grows more fervent, the passion between you reaching a fever pitch. With a low growl, Sunghoon's hands roam over your body, tracing every curve and contour with deliberate intent. His touch ignites a fire within you, sending shivers down your spine as his fingers trail up and down your back, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.
You can feel the heat between your bodies intensifying, the urgency of desire driving you closer together. As he pulls you onto his lap, you straddle him eagerly, the hardness of his arousal pressing against you, a potent reminder of the passion between you.
With each movement, Sunghoon grinds against you, his hips rocking in perfect synchrony with yours, creating a rhythm that sets your heart racing. The friction between your bodies sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, building the intensity of your desire with every touch. His hands guide your movements, urging you to grind against him with increasing urgency
"Good girl," he whispers against your ear, his voice husky with desire, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. His words fuel the fire burning between you, igniting a primal hunger that demands to be sated.
You reach for the buttons of his shirt, unbuttoning with urgency while still grinding against him, your ass meeting his clothed thighs with every bounce. His hands grip the flesh underneath your dress, and you feel the tension in the air as you both lose yourselves in the moment. With a swift motion, his shirt is off, discarded in the heat of the passion that envelops you both.
As you look into his eyes, you see the same emotions reflected — lust, longing, want and need. You're consumed by the desire to pleasure him, to take him to the heights of ecstasy and beyond. With a primal urge coursing through your veins, you drop to your knees before him.
As you look up at him, a playful and innocent smile dancing on your lips, he groans in response, his reaction uncontrolled and raw. His moans escape him in a series of loud, guttural sounds, each one filled with the urgency of his desire and the pleasure coursing through him.
With a confident hand, you unzip his jeans, anticipation building with each tug of the zipper, until they're open and his arousal is straining against the fabric of his boxers. Pressing open-mouthed kisses to the fabric covering his cock, you revel in the feeling of his hardness beneath your lips, the heat of his desire seeping through the fabric. His reaction is immediate, a guttural groan escaping him as he feels your warm breath against his skin, the promise of pleasure tantalisingly close.
With a wicked grin, you tease him further, nipping at the edge of his boxers before slowly sliding them down, revealing his throbbing length in all its glory. The sight of him, hard and ready for you, only fuels your own desire, igniting a hunger that demands to be sated.
"You're driving me insane," he growls, his voice thick with desire as he locks eyes with you, the intensity of the moment igniting a fire between you. "Now, are you gonna suck my cock like the good girl you are?"
With a smirk playing on his lips, he teases you with his cock, tracing the tip along your parted lips. He grips his hardness firmly, using it to lightly slap against your eager mouth, the sensation sending shivers of excitement down your spine. Your mouth hangs open, ready and waiting for him, aching to feel him fill you completely.
With a hungry urgency, you take him into your mouth, your lips wrapping around him as you sink down onto his hardness. You touch each other all over, your hands exploring his body while his fingers tangle in your hair,
Your head bobs rhythmically, your mouth working him with skill and determination, each movement eliciting loud grunts and moans from him. He guides your movements with his hands, urging you to take him deeper, to suck him harder, to drive him to the brink of ecstasy.
"Fuck, that's it," he groans, his voice thick with desire as he watches you pleasure him. "Just like that, baby, take me all the way."
You comply eagerly, your hand tight around his length as you stroke and tease him, syncing your movements with the rhythm of your mouth for maximum pleasure. His rough and primal sounds of pleasure fill the air, spurring you on as you work him towards release.
But he wants more, needs more. With a sudden roughness, he tightens his grip on your hair, pulling you closer until your head is arched back, your neck exposed for him to take control. With a makeshift ponytail in his grasp, he guides your movements, angling your head for a better angle as he thrusts into your mouth with renewed intensity.
You surrender to his dominance, letting him guide you as he thrusts deeper into your mouth, each movement driving you both closer to the edge. Your senses are overwhelmed by the taste, the scent, the feeling of him filling you completely, and you revel in the primal pleasure of giving yourself over to him entirely.
"Fuck yes," he growls, his voice a primal command as he takes control. "Suck my cock, just like that. I want to feel you swallow me whole."
His grunts and moans grow louder, more urgent, as he approaches the pinnacle of his ecstasy. With one final, powerful thrust, he releases himself into your waiting mouth,
As you take his cum, you look up at him with eyes that are both desperate and satisfied, your mouth aching for more of him even as you savour the taste of his release. “That’s it, baby.” He strokes your hair softly, relishing in the feeling of you tasting his cum.
He whispers huskily, "take it all, baby... swallow every fucking drop."
You gaze up at him with a mix of desire and vulnerability, your eyes pleading and soft. He feels a primal urge stir deep within him. The sight of you, so desperately wanting, ignites a fire in his veins and a fluttering feeling in his chest.
With a growl of need, he effortlessly lifts you from the floor, his strength undeniable as he pulls you into his arms. Lowering you onto his lap, he holds you close, his hands roaming over your body with possessive urgency. Each touch is rough yet tender, a silent declaration of his desire to claim you as his own. And as he pulls you closer, the heat between you intensifies, the air thick with anticipation and need.
In his hold, your bodies meld together, hips moving in a primal rhythm, grinding against each other with an urgency that borders on desperation. As your lips meet, it's a clash of tongues and teeth, a passionate exchange that leaves you both breathless. Moans and sighs escape between kisses, mingling with the sound of your heavy breathing as you lose yourselves in the moment.
Breaking apart briefly, you pant against his lips, your desire evident in every ragged breath. "I wanna fuck you so badly, please," you whisper, your voice a husky plea.
With a low growl of desire, he meets your gaze, his eyes smouldering with need. "Ride my cock, baby," he commands, his voice rough with urgency as he guides your hips, urging you to take control.
His hands move with purpose as he pulls your dress up to bunch around your waist. His fingers deftly unzip the back of your dress, exposing your back and revealing your breasts, a sight that only fuels his desire further. With a primal need, he leans down to pepper kisses along your exposed neck, his lips trailing a path of fire along your skin.
You feel the pulsating heat of his arousal throbbing against your dripping core as you lower yourself onto his cock. A primal moan escapes his lips as you take him deep inside, your walls greedily enveloping him in a tight, wet embrace. With each downward thrust, you revel in the sensation of him stretching you, filling you completely, sending sparks of ecstasy coursing through your veins.
"That’s it," he groans, his voice husky with desire as he grips your hips, urging you to ride him harder. "You take me so well." He praises, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek.
Your bodies move together in a frenzied rhythm, the sound of your skin slapping against his filling the room with the symphony of your passion. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure crashing over you, your senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating heat between you.
Your breasts bounce in front of him, a tempting display that drives him wild with need. He reaches up to grasp them, his fingers kneading and teasing your sensitive flesh, sending bolts of pleasure shooting straight to your core.
"You’re so fucking hot," he growls, his voice rough with urgency as he meets your gaze, his eyes burning with unbridled lust.
With each bounce on his cock, you relentlessly ride him, your bodies colliding with the sound of skin slapping against skin. The sensation of him filling you completely, stretching you to your limits, is overwhelming, a delicious tightness that leaves you breathless with desire.
Sunghoon can't help but marvel at how impossibly tight you feel around him. Every inch of his cock is enveloped in the warm, velvety embrace of your pussy, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through him with each thrust.
Your walls grip him with an intensity that leaves him breathless, a sensation so exquisite it borders on agonizing. He can feel every twitch, every ripple of your inner muscles as you ride him relentlessly, driving him to the brink of ecstasy with your insatiable hunger.
As the intensity of your rhythm escalates, the impending release becomes undeniable. "Sunghoon, Sunghoon," you gasp, your voice barely audible as you cling to him, the sensations overwhelming.
He meets your gaze with a primal hunger, his own need evident in the depths of his eyes. "I know, I know," he growls, his voice strained with urgency. With synchronised movements, you both reach the peak together. Your bodies tremble with the force of your climax, every nerve ending ablaze with pleasure.
"I'm cumming!" you cry out, your voice echoing in the room as your walls clamp down around him, milking him for every drop of pleasure. Sunghoon's own release follows suit, his moans mingling with yours as he spills himself into you, filling you with his warmth.
As you reach up to gently brush the hair away from his face, you notice a change in Sunghoon’s demeanour. His features soften, his expression becoming more relaxed and carefree under your touch. An unspoken tension, one that he didn’t even realise he was carrying, was released, leaving him looking more casual and at ease. Under your hold, you can feel the satisfaction coursing through you, you did this to him.
“Are you tired?” he asks sweetly, his voice laced with concern as he looks down at you.
You shake your head with a shy smile, reassured by the warmth in his gaze.
But before you can say anything else, he surprises you by suddenly lifting you effortlessly into his arms, turning you around with a speed that leaves you yelping in surprise. The sudden movement catches you off guard, a rush of exhilaration and excitement coursing through you as you find yourself wrapped up in his embrace.
As Sunghoon holds you in his arms, you feel a surge of exhilaration mixed with a potent cocktail of desire and trust. His strong and steady embrace grounds you, his warmth enveloping you in a sense of security and anticipation.
“Do you trust me, beautiful?” His whispered words send shivers down your spine. You nod eagerly in response. His kiss on the side of your head ignites a fire within you, fueling your desire and surrender.
Positioning himself behind you, Sunghoon aligns his throbbing cock with your eager entrance. With a primal growl that resonates deep within your core, he thrusts forward, driving deep into you as he supports your weight effortlessly.
His hands grip your hips firmly, guiding the rhythm of your movements with precision and intensity. Each thrust is a calculated display of strength and control, hitting all the right spots with a relentless pace that leaves you breathless and wanting more.
Despite carrying you, his movements are powerful and controlled, each thrust driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy. The sensation of him deep inside you, his cock driving into you with primal intensity, is overwhelming and intoxicating.
With each thrust, he emphasises his strength, his dominance evident in every movement as he holds you close to him, his body pressed against yours. The slickness of your combined arousal acts as a natural lubricant, enhancing the pleasure of each thrust and driving you both closer to the brink of release.
In the heat of the moment, Sunghoon’s dominance takes centre stage as his fingers entwine themselves in your hair, firmly grasping a fistful of your locks. With each deliberate tug, he exerts his control over the pace and intensity of your movements, guiding you with a commanding yet sensual grip. As he pulls you closer, you can feel the electric tension building.
With each rhythmic movement, his hand connects with your flesh, delivering a sharp, stinging sensation that ignites your senses. The contrast between the gentle glide of his thrusts and the sudden impact of his hand sends jolts of pleasure racing through your body, heightening the intensity of the experience. Each spank leaves behind a lingering warmth, a tangible reminder of his dominance and your shared desire. As the sensations wash over you, you find yourself surrendering to the raw passion of the moment, lost in the electrifying connection between you and Sunghoon
With your hands securely pinned behind your back, you’re completely at his mercy, unable to move or resist as he takes you with an intoxicating blend of strength and desire. His muscles ripple with every movement, his veins pulsating with the intensity of his passion. His arms wrap around you, holding you close, his biceps flexing with each powerful thrust. You can feel the heat of his body against yours, his primal energy consuming you as he claims you as his own. In his embrace, you’re lost in a whirlwind of pleasure and surrender, utterly captivated by the raw masculinity of his touch.
He’s crazy. With each sharp slap to your cheek and each forceful tug of your hair, there’s a gentleness in his soft kisses grazing your cheeks. Amidst the heat of passion, he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, his breath warm against your skin.
You find yourself on the brink of ecstasy, your body writhing with desire as you whimper, “Please, I need to cum.”
Sunghoon’s response is immediate, his deep whisper urging you on, “Cum for me, that’s my good girl.”
With renewed intensity, he thrusts harder, driving you to the edge and beyond. Finally, as the pleasure overwhelms you, you reach the pinnacle of bliss, and with a primal cry, you release, your climax crashing over you like a tidal wave. In that moment of euphoria, you feel Sunghoon’s own release, his body tensing against yours as he joins you in ecstasy, the culmination of your shared passion leaving you both breathless and spent.
Sunghoon’s house is not what you expected.
The cool evening air brushes against your skin as you approach Sunghoon’s place, his hand gently holding yours. He’d asked if you were comfortable coming over after the party, and something in his gaze made it impossible to say no. As you near his home, you’re taken aback by its appearance. Unlike the typical cramped student accommodations, Sunghoon’s house boasts a spacious front porch, its design minimalist but striking with shades of grey and sharp black accents.
“I live with a few other guys… it’s not all mine,” Sunghoon chuckles, noticing your wide-eyed wonder. His laughter eases the awe that had momentarily seized you.
“Who do you live with?” you ask, glancing around the spacious interior curiously.
Sunghoon chuckles, leading you through the open layout of the living room. “Jake, Jay, and Jungwon. Ni-ki and Yangyang practically live here too, though. It’s a big place, it never really feels crowded… the more, the better, actually,” he explains, his voice echoing slightly in the expansive space.
He continues, a smirk playing on his lips as he mentions Jungwon. “Jungwon can be a real pain sometimes, he’s the one who keeps telling me
you’re some Christian virgin but I tell him to shut up and hit him.” He says nonchalantly while you let out giggle. “But he’s one of my best friends. Always keeps things interesting around here.” He laughs softly, shaking his head at some unspoken memory.
“As for Jay, he’s the quiet, mysterious type. Doesn’t talk much, but he’s reliable, always there when you need him.” He adds thoughtfully.
“Are they your best friends?” you ask, intrigued by the warmth in his voice when he speaks of them.
He nods, his expression softening. “Yeah, they’re the people I’m closest to. We’ve been through a lot together—it’s like having a second family, you know?”
“And Jake?” you ask, knowing he was closest to him out of all people
“I love Jake.” He responds quickly and surely.
“Awww.” You coo.
Sunghoon’s expression softens. “Yeah, Jake and I go way back. He’s one of those friends who’s seen you at your worst and still thinks the best of you,” he explains with a laugh. “I’ve known him the longest. He has this way of keeping me grounded, especially when things start to feel overwhelming. His voice is so calm and he’s always so understanding, I’ll always be so thankful for him.”
He shifts slightly, his enthusiasm growing as he talks about his friend. “We don’t always have to talk to communicate. All we need to do is look in each other's eyes and we know what the other is thinking.”
He says it so seriously but you can’t help but snort. “That’s incredibly romantic.”
He rolls his eyes, a sign he’s used to that response whenever he speaks about Jake.
He takes you inside, then leads you on a brief tour, his hand still warm in yours. “My favourite part, the kitchen,” he announces as you step into a sleek, modern space. The kitchen is a testament to minimalist design, dominated by grey tones with vibrant blue accents that add a playful splash of color. The clean lines and uncluttered surfaces reflect a sense of order and style.
“You cook?” you ask, genuinely surprised by the sophisticated setup.
“Do I cook?” he repeats with a raised eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’m the best cook around.”
The confidence in his voice sparks a smile on your face. “You’re gonna have to cook for me one day,” you say, the words slipping out more comfortably than you expected. It feels natural, easy even and you just allow it to happen.
“Yeah, I’ll make it my best work,” he responds, his smile broadening. He looks down at you with a warmth that makes your heart flutter slightly.
As you and Sunghoon chat comfortably in the kitchen, the sudden sound of footsteps causes you to startle. Before your nerves can fully spike, you realize it’s Jake entering the room. He seems nonchalant, sporting headphones and munching on popcorn, oblivious—or perhaps indifferent—to your presence.
Jake’s casual demeanour initially leaves you wondering if this is a common scene for him, witnessing Sunghoon with company. Sunghoon, for his part, doesn’t seem surprised or perturbed by his friend’s appearance, reinforcing the depth of their friendship. They’re comfortable around each other, sharing a living space without the constant need to fill it with conversation.
However, the quiet moment shifts as Jake finally acknowledges the room. He pulls one earbud out, glancing up from his phone with a mischievous smirk. His eyes flicker between your entwined hands and both your faces, a hint of amusement in his gaze. “Don’t start fucking each other against the countertop. I just cleaned it,” he quips, his tone light but pointed.
Sunghoon simply rolls his eyes, a small laugh escaping him as he looks at you, unfazed by Jake’s comment. “Ignore him,” he advises with a grin, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “He always loves to tease.”
Some time passes and Sunghoon leads you to the third floor, to his room. When he pushes open the door, a sense of tranquillity washes over you. The room is meticulously curated, the white walls pristine, exuding an aura of calm and control. Your eyes immediately travel to the bed, high-set with a soft charcoal comforter. Above his bed, an abstract painting commands attention—its tempestuous strokes of blues and greys mirroring the complexity within Sunghoon himself.
On one side, a sleek desk stands, supporting a high-powered computer with dual monitors. A nearby shelf holds a collection of engineering textbooks and a scattering of eclectic reads, your eyes lighting when you see some of your own favourite books.
The room’s ambiance is carefully controlled, LED strips casting an intentional glow, highlighting the books and illuminating a space that is both a study and a sanctuary. His headphones lie within reach, resting comfortably on its own stand.
As Sunghoon’s voice breaks the quiet, you realise he’s been watching you take it all in. “Do you want to change into something more comfortable?”
You nod but then your smile falters. “I didn’t bring anything —”
Before you can finish, Sunghoon is pulling out one of his black hoodies, his movements smooth and assured. You accept it with a quiet “thank you,” your fingers brushing against his as you take it.
The moment’s calmness is palpable as you sit on the edge of Sunghoon’s bed, the comforter cool beneath you. Sunghoon bends down to retrieve a couple of drinks and snacks from a compact compartment below, something you hadn’t noticed in his room prior. With a fluid motion that suggests familiarity, he pops open your drink using his teeth, his hands full, and hands it to you.
Does he realise how hot that was?
It’s then, as you reach out to accept the cold can, that your gaze lands on a photo by his bedside—a polaroid capturing a candid moment. A leaden sensation creeps into your chest, a tightness that’s unfamiliar yet instinctive. The polaroid shows Sunghoon with Arin share a blissfully happy moment, her radiant smile lighting up the room as she sits comfortably on his lap. They are wrapped in an intimate embrace, his arm securely around her, their gazes locked in an affectionate fondness. Arin looks breathtaking, embodying a natural beauty that deepens the pang of unease in your chest. Witnessing their intimate connection depicted so vividly in the snapshot, you can’t help but frown, a reaction Sunghoon catches instantly.
Without realising, a frown forms on your face, your fingers tightening around the can. Sunghoon’s gaze shifts from you to follow your line of sight, and with an ease that startles you, he plucks the photo from its place. The action is dismissive, an erasure of history as he tosses it into the nearby bin without a second glance.
“What do you want to watch?” he asks, turning to face you with the remote in hand.
You shrug playfully, “You choose.” A grin spreads across your face as you hear the faint clicks of him browsing through the movie selections.
As Sunghoon fiddles with the projector, the soft glow of the screen illuminates the room, casting playful shadows around his minimalist space. You settle more comfortably into his bed, pulling a cushion under your arm.
Your giggle fills the room when you see his choice pop up on the screen—Lemonade Mouth. It’s unexpected, and his reasoning makes you chuckle even more. “Seems fitting to watch the most iconic movie about a band with the hottest and coolest band member I know,” he explains, a teasing tone in his voice.
“It’s an amazing movie,” you whisper, sinking deeper into his bed, drawing the comforter up to your chin. You’re so engrossed in the opening scene that you don’t notice Sunghoon’s gaze lingering on you, his attention only half on the movie.
The film’s lighthearted humour unexpectedly draws peals of laughter from you, your giggles echoing in the quiet room. It’s endearing to Sunghoon, how easily you find joy in simple moments.
“Did you guys start your band in detention too?” he jokes, referencing the plot of the movie, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
You shake your head, still smiling. “No, we started it because Sunwoo lost a bet. We’ve only been a band for like… less than a year.”
Settling back, he watches you more than the movie, a soft smile playing on his lips as he enjoys your reactions just as much as the film itself. The evening unfolds with a gentle, easy magic, the kind that seems to pause time just for the two of you.
As the characters in Lemonade Mouth rally together for their iconic ‘Determinate’ performance, Sunghoon chuckles, pointing at the screen. “Can Sunwoo and Eric rap like that?” he asks, genuinely curious yet teasingly.
You laugh, the sound is light and easy. “Both, actually. Especially Sunwoo—he’s surprisingly good. But he can’t ever be serious about it. I swear, half the time, I can’t take him seriously at all, and I can’t believe he’s in a band.”
Sunghoon’s laughter joins yours, creating a symphony of amusement that fills the room. “That must make rehearsals interesting,” he comments, imagining the scene.
“It’s like managing a group of kids sometimes.” You deadpan, eyes twinkling with the memories of countless rehearsals.
As the movie winds down and the room dims with the soft light of the credits rolling, your eyelids grow heavy. Nestled comfortably under his covers, you find the cosy warmth too inviting, your voice barely above a whisper, “Can I stay here tonight?” You’re already sinking deeper into the cushion of his pillow, the fatigue of the night drawing you closer to sleep.
Sunghoon’s response comes with a gentle chuckle, warm and reassuring. “Yeah, you can,” he smiles, the softness in his voice making it clear you didn’t even need to ask. As you nestle in, he reaches out, his touch light as he brushes his hand over your cheek. “Don’t you wanna remove your makeup before you sleep?” he asks, his concern tender.
You groan softly. “Can’t be bothered,” you mumble.
Without hesitation, Sunghoon offers, “I’ll do it for you.” He pulls open a drawer, retrieving cotton pads and makeup remover. His movements pause as his fingers brush over the items—remnants of past routines, he frowns, breathing in deeply before letting it out. Not tonight, not now.
He gently turns your face towards him, ensuring not to disturb you too much as your eyelids flutter in the struggle to stay awake. With care and immense attentiveness, he begins to dab at your face, removing the makeup with strokes so soft they could be mistaken for a caress. Each motion is careful, ensuring not to tug at your skin, his touch as light as air.
“So pretty,” he whispers, his voice a hush in the quiet room. He finds you absolutely breathtaking like this, bare-faced and in his hoodie, resting on his side of the bed. Normally he doesn’t let anyone sleep on his side of his bed, but with you, he decides to make an exception.
Sunghoon reaches for a spare blanket and pillow, throwing both onto the couch beside his bed but just as he turns to leave, your hand reaches out, catching his wrist with a gentle, yet firm grip, your fingernails embedded in his wrists slightly.
“Don’t go,” you murmur, the softness of your voice masking the intensity of your plea.
He pauses, turning back with a chuckle. “I sleep here all the time, it’s fine,” he assures you, his voice a blend of amusement and comfort.
But tonight, you want him closer. “I want you to stay,”
Sunghoon sighs, a sound of subtle delight, he can’t argue with that. as he slides into the bed beside you. “You’re kinda on my side of the bed,” he teases, a playful note in his voice that makes you smile in the dimly lit room.
“Come closer then,” you whisper back, shifting to make room and tossing the spare pillow off the bed. Your arms open, inviting him into a more intimate embrace. He obliges without hesitation, his hands finding their way to the small of your back, his fingers trailing along your skin as he pulls you closer, the heat of his breath mingling with yours.
You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close. The fabric of his shirt is soft under your fingertips, and you trace patterns absentmindedly as you both adjust into a comfortable cuddle. His presence is a calming force, and you feel the earlier tension of the evening begin to dissipate.
The proximity is electrifying yet soothing, with his breath rhythmic and steady against the side of your face. “This is better,” you admit, your voice a soft confession in the quiet of the room.
“Yeah?” he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear. His hand finds its way to your hair, fingers gently sifting through the strands, a touch that sends shivers down your spine.
“Mmm,” you hum in response, content and a little more daring as the night deepens. “I like having you close,” you continue, the words spilling out with a vulnerability that feels right in the moment.
Sunghoon’s response is a gentle squeeze of his arms around you, pulling you even closer. “I’m not going anywhere,” he assures you, his voice a low rumble that you feel rather than hear. His hand trails down your back, settling with a comforting weight that anchors you to the moment, to him.
The morning after, sunlight sneaks through the curtains, painting the sheets in a warm glow. You wake up to find yourself comfortably nestled in Sunghoon’s arms, his arms secure around you. Is it the bed or his strong embrace making you feel so cozy?
You feel his warm breath on your skin as Sunghoon leans in to kiss you, his lips hovering just inches from yours. But before he can make contact, you blurt out the question that catches him off guard.
“How did you find fucking me?” you ask, the words slipping out before you can stop them.
He pauses, his lips lingering near yours for a moment before he chuckles softly. “Good morning to you too,” he replies, giving you a quick peck on the lips.
“Was I good?” you press, your heart pounding in your chest.
Sunghoon plays with your earrings, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “Really good,” he admits, his voice husky with desire.
“Really?” you can’t help but sound a bit silly, your insecurities bubbling to the surface.
“There’s a reason I kept calling you my ‘good girl’,” he reassures you, his words sending a flutter of excitement through you.
You giggle at his response, feeling a surge of confidence wash over you. “I mean, who taught you how to suck cock like that?” he teases, wiggling your eyebrows playfully.
“I’m self-taught,” you continue, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. “No one needs to teach me.”
He moves his body on top of you, his gaze smouldering with desire. “Do you want to show me what else you’ve learned?” he asks, his voice low and husky with anticipation. His eyes lighting when you nod eagerly.
You fidget with the hem of Sunghoon’s hoodie as you descend the stairs, the fabric soft against your skin but heavy with the weight of the night before. Hickeys dot your neck, a visible reminder of the passion that unfolded in the quiet of his room. Sunghoon follows closely behind, his hand finding the small of your back, a silent assurance as you step into the heart of his home.
The kitchen buzzes with morning activity, the air thick with the scent of coffee and the low hum of conversation. It’s a stark contrast to the serene isolation of Sunghoon’s bedroom. You’re not prepared for the burst of energy that greets you, but then again, you should have expected it. Sunghoon’s housemates, a notorious and eclectic group known campus-wide, are gathered around the island, their presence as commanding as their reputations.
Jake spots you first, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “Good morning, did you sleep well? Or should I say, fuck well?” he teases, winking at you with a grin that spells trouble.
Jungwon stands, clapping dramatically as he eyes the marks on your neck. “Oh, look, someone lost their virginity!” he declares, earning a chorus of laughs from the others.
You shoot him an annoyed look, choosing not to engage with his antics. Jay leans against the counter, a smirk playing on his lips. “Did he fuck you do hard that you couldn’t make a sound? We didn’t hear a peep last night,” he adds, his voice dripping with mock concern.
Despite the barrage of teasing, Sunghoon remains unfazed. He steps closer, his arm snaking around you, pulling you to his side. His presence is a wall against the playful onslaught. “Ignore them,” he murmurs, his voice low and comforting by your ear, leaving a soft kiss on your cheek.
You feel a tightness in your chest as their chatter swirls around you, the familiarity and ease of Sunghoon’s friends contrasting sharply with your own nervousness. You cling slightly to Sunghoon, tightening your grip on his arm. You manage a small smile, avoiding direct eye contact with the group, your gaze flickering between the countertop and the mug you’re now holding.
With a soft touch, he leans down, his breath warm against your ear. "Hey, just take a deep breath, okay? They really like you," he whispers just for you, the reassuring tone blending with the underlying rumble of his voice. He guides you subtly to stand slightly behind him.
You nod, managing a shy smile as you lean into his protective form, feeling the tension begin to ease. The physical closeness, Sunghoon's body shielding yours, brings a quiet comfort that helps you relax into the moment, the earlier apprehension slowly melting away under his attentive care.
As the weeks pass, your interactions with Sunghoon become increasingly frequent and intense. You find yourself actively seeking him out.You’ve spent endless nights in his house, in his room. Endless laughter and soft touches weave between you, gradually building a deeper connection. Days without seeing him leave a noticeable void, highlighting just how integral he has become to your daily life.
Park Sunghoon was not what you expected, he was better, he left you breathless. He had effortlessly evolved into a constant presence in your world. His ability to make you laugh and smile becomes a cherished aspect of your days together. You don’t shut up around him; it’s something he wasn’t expecting. He finds it endearing, how much you babble and talk. You simply share every thought and feeling with him — unmasked and raw. It was a massive difference to the shy girl who never used to be able to look him in the eyes.
(You still struggle making direct eye contact with him though).
You don’t know how it happened so quickly, but you begin trusting him and instinctively needing him around before actively realizing it. It was your bodies and minds’ natural response.
In getting to know Sunghoon, you discover a multitude of shared interests, from music and literature to movies and even Lego sets. Yet, it's the differences that add depth to your connection. Sunghoon exuded confidence, his outgoing nature and commanding presence drawing you in. He knew how to navigate any situation with ease, always in control and never at a loss for words.
Yet, alongside his confidence was a wild streak that ignited a fire within you. He embraced the thrill of indulging in drugs, drinking, sex and getting high, finding euphoria in the freedom of letting loose. His uninhibited nature was undeniably attractive, adding to the magnetic pull you felt towards him.
Despite his wild side, Sunghoon displayed a remarkable intellect and dedication to his studies. He approached engineering with a seriousness that spoke to his ambition and drive. Behind his cool exterior lay a focused individual with clear goals and aspirations for the future. This combination of intelligence, ambition, and spontaneity only served to deepen your admiration for him.
You also love when he kisses you.
The entire world melts away in those moments, as his soft lips meet yours in a dance of warmth and affection. Each kiss is filled with smiles and unspoken promises, drawing you closer to him with every tender touch. The closeness you share in those stolen moments is everything you’ve ever dreamed of and more.
It happens often—more often than you would have expected. You find yourselves kissing, making out, lost in each other’s embrace, more frequently than you could have imagined. Yet, despite the overwhelming desire that burns between you, you haven’t been able to take that next step.
Do you want to have sex with him again? Yes, without a doubt. The thought of being intimate with him again sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine. But have you been able to? No. And why? The answer eludes you, buried beneath layers of uncertainty and hesitation.
You meet his eyes through the reflection in the mirror, the anticipation palpable in the charged air between you. His hands trail down the curve of your back. As he zips up the back of your dress and places your necklace around your neck, his whispered words send a wave of bliss coursing through you.
“You look beautiful,” he murmurs into your ear, arching your neck to meet his eyes directly now. his lips pressing against yours with longing, roughness, and breathlessness all at once. You moan softly into his mouth, your fingers instinctively fisting in his hair as he effortlessly picks you up, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist.
With a sense of urgency, he guides you to the chair by his desk, both of you breathless and eager for more. You straddle him, the heat of your bodies igniting as you grind against each other. As the cool metal of the zipper trails down the small of your back, a shiver runs through you—mixed, not with the anticipated thrill, but an unsettling trepidation. Your breath hitches, caught in the tangle of your conflicting desires. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? The question haunts the fringes of your mind, echoing with each inch of fabric that parts under his fingers.
He pauses, and the room suddenly feels too small, the air too thick. You can feel his gaze, heavy with concern, as he leans back to look at you. It’s a careful, searching look, one that seems to pierce right through the façade of readiness you’ve put up. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice low, a soft thread in the tense silence.
Your heart pounds louder, faster, betraying your outward calm. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks as you meet his eyes—so full of worry now. Why can’t you just be okay with this? The frustration at yourself bubbles up, sour and accusing. You feel exposed, not just in flesh but in spirit, as if he’s peeling back layers you’re not ready to shed.
You open your mouth to speak, to explain, but the words dissolve into a heavy breath. His concern deepens, the atmosphere shifts; it’s no longer just about desire, but about the raw, unmasked corners of vulnerability. “Y/N,” he says, and it’s gentle, almost reverent.
In that moment, caught between wanting and uncertainty, you realize the gravity of intimacy—not just the physical merging, but the emotional exposure. It’s not just bodies that are laid bare in such encounters, but hearts and hidden fears, all intertwined.
He catches every faltering word, his expression softened by an empathetic understanding that seems to wrap around you like a warm blanket. “It’s okay. You don’t need to say sorry,” he reassures you, his voice steady, a stark contrast to the tremble in your own.
You glance up at him, the turmoil inside bubbling over. “No, I do… I do want to have sex with you, I think I do but something is holding me back. Something doesn’t feel right inside of me, and I don’t know what it is. I just feel weird, I feel tense, my anxiety has never felt this high.” The words spill out in a rush, your voice cracking under the strain of the heavy, churning emotions.
“I feel nauseous. I’m sorry… I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or guilty. I’m really sorry.” You mumble, biting your lip to hold back the tears that threaten to break free. Guilt gnaws at you, twisting tighter with each apology, fearing how your words might weigh on him.
He listens, his eyes never leaving yours, not even for a moment. There’s no hint of frustration or judgement, only deep, unwavering patience. “You don’t need to say sorry to me about that, or explain yourself to me, ever,” he responds, his tone firm yet gentle. It’s comforting, like a steady anchor in the tumultuous sea of your emotions.
“I know what you’re feeling. Having sex does take a toll on your body and mind. It can be a lot mentally. You don’t need to explain yourself to me because I will always understand, okay? Just tell me if anything is making you uncomfortable and don’t ever feel guilty about it.” His assurance is a soothing balm, addressing not just the immediate anxiety but acknowledging the broader, often unspoken pressures that come with intimacy.
The room stills, the earlier tension slowly dissipating as his words settle over you. You nod, a silent acknowledgment of his kindness. In this moment, the physical space between you is charged with a new, quiet intimacy—a connection not of bodies, but of souls understanding each other in profound silence.
His hand reaches out, brushing a stray tear from your cheek with a tenderness that makes your heart swell. It’s a simple gesture, yet it speaks volumes, reinforcing the safety and acceptance in his presence. It’s not about what happens next, or what didn’t happen tonight. It’s about being seen, understood, and cared for without conditions. And in that understanding, the heavy cloak of anxiety begins to lift, replaced by a lighter, more hopeful sensation—a whisper of peace amidst the storm.
“Do you still wanna go or do you wanna stay here and chill for the night?” he asks, his voice gentle, leaning in close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath. His eyes search yours for an answer, patient and undemanding.
You smile, a wave of relief washing over you at how understanding he is. “Of course I still want to go.” You respond, your voice steady but soft. There’s comfort in his presence, a safety that peels back the layers of guard you’ve meticulously built around yourself. For a moment, you hold his gaze, seeing the sincerity and warmth that flicker in his eyes, revealing his true intentions. It’s this truth that captivates you, locking your eyes with his and making the world around you fade.
He nods, a small, understanding smile playing on his lips. Standing, he offers his hand, and you place yours in it, feeling a rush of warmth from his touch. His hand is strong and secure around yours, a contrast to the smooth, gentle hold that sends a thrill up your arm. As he leads you through the crowd, you can’t help but notice the confident way he moves—each stride purposeful and assured, his shoulders relaxed yet commanding presence. The feeling of your hand in his—a delicate yet perfect fit—makes your heartbeat a little faster.
Sunghoon also bonded with your friends, although it got a bit awkward considering he had fucked Nayoung and Eunji before, it’s not shocking, he has a high body count. It wasn’t easy to forget that the way he met you was through Nayoung, through his initial interest in her. But it was clear that boundaries were now set, and he viewed them as your friends specifically.
Sunghoon exuded an unexpected chill vibe that effortlessly drew people to him. He possessed a natural charisma that made it easy for him to get along with everyone, though not in a desperate, boundary-less way. Rather, he was the type who genuinely wanted to keep everyone happy and safe, yet he also harbored a darker, more defensive side. If you crossed him or someone he cared about, he wouldn’t hesitate to assert himself.
His presence was magnetic, with eyes following him wherever he went. Being around him was like basking in sunshine—impossible not to smile, to feel light and happy, to keep your eyes fixed on him with a wide smile. That’s why you warmed up to him so easily. His ability to effortlessly connect with your friends was incredibly hot, and seeing him make an effort was a major turn-on.
Your friends have grown accustomed to seeing you in their own world, whenever you and Sunghoon are together, their glances and remarks go unnoticed by both of you. You’re so engrossed and caught up in each other that the outside world fades away. There’s constant eye smiles, giggling, stolen glances, whispers, and communications, all adding to the intimate atmosphere. Physical closeness comes naturally, and you always make space for him. He, in turn, chooses to sit next to you and focuses solely on you.
You’re in the campus student lounge rooms. The last time you were here, the mere thought of him used to send chills down your spine, he used to make you incredibly nervous. The last time you were here with him was the morning after you had sex, and the memories flood back, mingling with the present moment.
But now? You’d say you’ve become a lot more comfortable around him. Don’t get it wrong, he still makes you nervous. At times it’s still difficult to look into his eyes and he loves it, especially right now, when he’s tracing the skin under your pretty little skirt with such precision. His eyes gaze into yours, penetrating deep into your soul, while the sides of his lips upturn into a smirk. As always, your friends are rolling their eyes as you and Sunghoon are eye-fucking again, completely oblivious to the scene around you.
Why is he touching you? Well, you mentioned wanting a tattoo, so you asked Sunghoon to trace an artistic outline of what he thinks would look good on you. Of course, deep down, you just wanted his hands on you; you weren’t actually planning to get inked. But you couldn’t exactly blurt out, “Sunghoon, please touch me!” in front of everyone, could you? He doesn’t mind though; he sees right through you and finds you endearing and cute. Plus, he’s not exactly opposed to any excuse to touch you either.
As Sunghoon’s fingers glide over the bare skin of your thigh, you feel a surge of desire coursing through your veins. His touch is electric, sending shivers of anticipation up your spine. You bite your lip to stifle a moan, but the sound escapes anyway, earning a smirk from Sunghoon.
“Really? In front of everyone?” he teases, his voice husky in your ear, dripping with desire. You shake your head, unable to form words as his touch sets your nerves on fire. Every brush of his fingertips sends waves of pleasure straight to your core.
“You like that?” he whispers, his warm breath tickling your ear. You can only whimper in response, the ache between your legs growing more insistent with each passing moment.
His hand moves with purpose, tracing the curve of your thigh before inching higher, closer to where you need him most. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, matching the fire burning within you.
In your mind, you’re chanting “higher” over and over, craving his touch to escalate. Suddenly, his voice, a low whisper in your ear, sends shivers down your spine. “You want me to touch you higher?” His words, dripping with seduction, fuel the fire burning within you.
How does he know? It’s maddening yet exhilarating, the way he can read your desires with just a glance. You bite your lip, trying to suppress the moan building in your throat, but it’s futile. You want him to know, to feel the raw intensity of your longing.
“No,” you manage to whisper, but it’s a lie, a feeble attempt to resist his irresistible allure. He smirks knowingly, his fingers teasingly brushing against your folds, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You can’t hold back anymore as desire consumes you, craving his touch, his warmth, his everything.
He repeats his question with a smirk, his tone dripping with teasing temptation. “No?” he says, drawing out the word, his eyes sparkling with mischief. But you’re beyond words now, lost in a haze of desire as his touch threatens to unravel you completely. All you can think about is him, his hands, his lips, igniting a hunger that only he can satisfy. “Hoon—”
As you lay your head on Sunghoon’s lap, the comfortable silence of the room wraps around you. You’re scrolling through his phone, a small gesture that shows just how close you’ve become, trusting each other with such personal devices. He’s doing the same with yours, each of you lost in a quiet exploration of memories captured in digital form.
Your fingers pause as you swipe through his camera roll, a gallery of his life displayed in bursts of pixels and colours. There’s an array of images: candid shots with friends, selfies, beautiful scenic photos, gym progress and a few of his university projects. You also come across an array of your own photos that you’d almost forgotten sending him—naughty and risqué shots of you in lingerie, revealing outfits, and even some playful nudes.
Then, amidst the casual swiping, you halt. A photo pops up that halts your breath and tightens your chest. It’s an image of Sunghoon with Arin.
You were still unclear about who Arin was to Sunghoon, and the nature of their past relationship. He hadn’t ever spoken about her, and the bits you pieced together from Eunji and Nayoung suggested they were together a while ago, though whether it was serious or not, you couldn’t be sure. But seeing this photo cuts your breath in half.
They’re caught in a serene moment—her seated on his lap, an arm draped comfortably around her. Her smile is radiant, the kind that seems to illuminate her entire face, and her eyes sparkle with joy. Sunghoon’s gaze is fixed on her with an intensity that’s palpable, his eyes soft, mesmerised. It’s clear from the photo that there was something deep and affectionate between them.
Among the multitude of images, this one stands out conspicuously, the only visual record of her presence in his phone. The absence of any other pictures of her prompts a troubling realisation: he must have deliberately removed them, yet this one remains, was it accidental? Was it not?
You doubt it. A chill runs through your spine, your breath shakes, and you feel a painful strain in your chest at the realisation. This photo had to be recent—you notice him wearing one of his commonly used jackets, and the hairstyle is the same.
You’re so incredibly jealous and shaken up that your vision blurs; you can’t think straight, you feel like you’re about to throw up, you feel so fucked up and nauseous that you don’t even think to check the date the photo was taken. All you can focus on is looking at her.
You can’t believe how breathtaking the photo is. Arin’s dress hugs her figure elegantly, accentuating her curves in all the right places, while her radiant smile lights up the frame, infusing the image with an undeniable warmth. Her eyes sparkle with genuine joy, drawing you into their depths with an irresistible allure. But it’s the way Sunghoon looks at her that leaves an indelible impression on your mind—he’s captivated, his gaze fixed on her with a mesmerising intensity that speaks volumes.
As you stare at the image, a cold realisation washes over you. She embodies everything you fear you’re not; her ease and vibrancy in the photo make you painfully aware of what you perceive as your own shortcomings. Sunghoon’s mesmerised look serves as a sharp reminder of your insecurities, feeding the jealousy that coils tight in your chest.
Now you know what it means when people say that a photo speaks a thousand words. It’s evident just by one photo—they look like they’re in love. The realisation hits you like a ton of bricks, confirming what your heart already suspected. With a single glance, the photo lays bare the truth of their relationship, leaving you reeling with a pang of heartache.
The photo stirs a storm of emotions within you—jealousy, envy, confusion. “She’s pretty,” you whisper to yourself, so quietly that Sunghoon doesn’t hear. You try to shake off the discomfort, to scroll past, but your eyes are glued to the image. Arin’s beauty, her dress, the happiness on his face—it’s a vivid portrayal of a potential love that fills Sunghoon’s life.
Silence stretches, heavy and thick, as you digest the image and its implications. The room suddenly feels smaller, the air around you charged with unsaid words and emerging doubts. Your fingers tremble slightly as they linger on the screen, the brightness of the phone casting shadows on your thoughtful face.
Sunghoon’s voice breaks through the heavy silence, calling out your name with increasing urgency. He notices the sudden change in your demeanor, the way you’ve gone silent and still, and follows your gaze to the photo of him and Arin. He meets your eyes, and there’s an unreadable, cold expression as if he’s masking or hiding something.
Your faint, broken voice fills the room with a small whisper. “Why do you have this photo on your phone?”
He’s about to answer, his mouth opening to form words that you’re not sure you’re ready to hear, when suddenly his phone vibrates loudly on the table. Your head snaps towards the device, a sharp intake of breath catching in your throat as you see the name illuminated on the screen. A single tear escapes, tracing a hot path down your cheek, but you quickly wipe it away before he can notice. With a huff, tinged with a mix of anger and hurt, you ask, your voice trembling slightly, “Why is Arin calling you?”
read part two here
as always. asks, comments, reblogs and likes are always appreciated :) it takes a few minutes and means you’ll make my day! please don’t be a silent reader 💗
Pairings: Omega! Jake Sim x Alpha! fem reader
Wordcount: 17k+
Summary: You love Jake, but believing you are a Beta who can never truly satisfy his Omega nature, you push him away only to realize during a dramatic twenty-first birthday presentation that you were his fated Alpha all along.
A/N: so uhhh I saw a Jake edit at work and wrote this at work 😭even though I see him as a soft dom I really wanna take care of him! Anyways hope you guys enjoy this. It was supposed to be a short Drabble I SWEAR IDK WHAT HAPPENED. Like always Please Like, Reblog and Comment! They are very appreciated.
[Masterlist]
The day the Sim family crossed the border into the Silver River Pack territory, the sky was the color of a bruised plum. It was late autumn, the air crisp and smelling of damp earth and decaying leaves.
You were five years old, a scrap of a thing with scraped knees and your father’s stubborn chin. Being the daughter of the Head Alpha meant you walked with a certain swagger, even in your light-up velcro sneakers. You felt like you owned the woods.
You were playing near the community center, digging for worms in the mud, when the old station wagon rolled in. It sputtered and died right in front of the intake office.
Two adults stepped out first. They were quiet, unassuming people. They kept their heads lowered, their shoulders hunched—universal body language for we mean no harm. They smelled like nothing. Just soap and nervousness. Betas.
Then, the back door opened.
A boy climbed out.
He looked to be about your age. He was wearing a yellow raincoat that was two sizes too big, the sleeves swallowing his hands. But it was his face that stopped you mid-dig.
He was the prettiest thing you had ever seen.
He had a mop of soft, dark hair that fell into his eyes. And those eyes... they were enormous. They were dark pools, wide and shimmering with a mixture of terror and wonder. When he blinked, you swore you could see galaxies swirling in them.
He looked around, clutching a stuffed puppy to his chest. He looked at the towering pine trees. He looked at the gruff Alpha guards standing by the gate. And then, he looked at you.
You stood up, wiping your muddy hands on your overalls. You marched over to him.
The boy flinched, taking a half-step behind his mother’s leg. He peeked out at you with those big, sparkly doe eyes.
"Hi," you announced, your voice loud in the quiet clearing.
"Hello," he whispered. His voice was soft, like wind chimes.
"I'm Y/N," you said. "My dad is the boss. Who are you?"
"Jake," he said, hugging the stuffed puppy tighter.
"You have mud on your face," he pointed out, pointing a tiny finger at your cheek.
You scrubbed at it, probably making it worse. "I was hunting worms. Do you like worms?"
Jake wrinkled his nose. It was an adorable motion, scrunching up his entire face. "No. They're slimy."
"That's the best part!" You grinned, showing off a gap-toothed smile. "You want to see?"
He hesitated, looking up at his mom. She gave him a gentle nod.
Jake stepped away from her leg. He walked toward you, his yellow raincoat swishing. "Okay. But if they touch me, I'm going to scream."
"Deal," you said.
That was the beginning. It wasn't an explosion; it was a seed taking root.
Pack dynamics are brutal, even for children. Wolves value strength, lineage, and scent. Even before presentation, children mimic their parents.
Jake was an anomaly. His parents were Betas, "drifters" who had joined the pack late in life. They didn't have the rich history of the founding families. They didn't have status.
And Jake... Jake was soft.
He didn't like roughhousing. He didn't like play-fighting. While the other boys were tackling each other in the dirt, growling with their baby teeth, Jake preferred to sit on the swings and look at the clouds. He liked to collect shiny rocks. He liked to hum to himself.
This made him a target.
It happened on a Tuesday. You were six.
You were looking for Jake during recess. You found him behind the equipment shed.
Three older boys—Marcus, Tyler, and Sam—had him cornered. Marcus was eight, big for his age, and already smelling faintly of his Alpha father’s aggression.
"What's wrong, stray?" Marcus sneered, kicking dust onto Jake’s shoes. "Cat got your tongue?"
Jake was pressed against the wooden wall. His big eyes were filled with tears that threatened to spill over. He wasn't fighting back. He was trembling, his lower lip wobbling.
"Leave me alone," Jake whispered.
"My dad says your parents are useless," Marcus laughed cruelly. "Just worker bees. You're going to be a useless worker bee too. You don't even smell like a wolf. You smell like air."
"I am a wolf!" Jake cried, his voice cracking.
"Prove it," Tyler taunted. "Growl. Come on. Let's hear it."
Jake opened his mouth, but only a small, choked sob came out.
The boys laughed. It was a mean, sharp sound.
You felt a heat rise in your belly. It wasn't the hormonal rage of an adult; it was the pure, righteous indignation of a best friend.
You dropped the pinecone you were holding. You didn't think. You just ran.
"HEY!" you screamed.
You barreled into the circle, shoving Marcus with all your might. He wasn't expecting it, and he stumbled back, tripping over his own feet and landing on his butt.
"Leave him alone!" you yelled, standing in front of Jake. You spread your arms wide, making yourself a shield.
Marcus scrambled up, his face red. "Move, Y/N. This isn't your business."
"He's my friend!" you shouted back. "And if you touch him, I'm telling my dad!"
The ultimate threat. The Head Alpha.Marcus paled. He looked at you, fierce and muddy, and then at Jake, who was peeking out from behind your shoulder with wide, terrified eyes."Whatever," Marcus muttered, trying to save face. "He's just a crybaby anyway. Come on, guys."
They ran off, hooting and hollering.You turned around immediately.
"Jake?" He was crying now, silent tears tracking down his soft cheeks. He looked so small. So fragile.
"Are you okay?" You reached out, wiping a tear from his chin.
Jake sniffled, looking at you like you were Superwoman. "They said... they said I'm not a real wolf."
"They're stupid," you declared firmly. "You are a real wolf. You're just... a nice wolf. You're not mean like them."
"You saved me," Jake whispered. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around your middle, burying his face in your shirt. He smelled like baby shampoo and rain.
"I'll always save you," you said, patting his back. "That's what friends do."
Jake pulled back, his eyes sparkling again, the fear replaced by adoration. "I want to be strong like you, Y/N."
"You will be," you promised, having no idea what you were talking about.
By the time you were eight, you were inseparable. The pack elders called you "The Shadow and the Shield." Where you went, Jake followed. He was clingy. It was the only word for it. He didn't like being alone. If you were watching TV, he had to be sitting next to you, his shoulder pressed against yours. If you were walking to the bus stop, he was holding your hand. If you were eating lunch, he was stealing food off your plate just to have an excuse to lean close.He was tactile in a way that defied his gender. Usually, boys at that age were going through the "cooties" phase. Jake didn't care about cooties. He only cared about you. One rainy Saturday, you were having a sleepover at his house. His parents, sweet Betas who baked excellent cookies, had built you a fort in the living room out of couch cushions and blankets.You were lying inside the fort, flashlight on, reading comic books."Y/N?" Jake asked. He was lying on his stomach, his chin resting on his folded arms. His eyes were reflecting the flashlight beam, making them look like pools of honey.
"Yeah?"
"Do you think I'll be a Beta?"
The question hung in the air.
"My mom and dad are Betas," he continued softly. "So I'll probably be one too. Right?"
You looked at him. He was so delicate. His eyelashes were long and dark against his pale skin. He was soft-spoken and kind. He rescued spiders instead of squishing them. He cried during sad movies. "Probably," you said honestly. "But being a Beta is cool. My uncle is a Beta and he flies airplanes."
"I don't want to fly airplanes," Jake said, rolling onto his back. "I want to be an Alpha."
You giggled. "You? An Alpha?"
"Hey!" He kicked your shin gently. "I could be! I'm growing! Look at my muscles!"
He flexed his arm. It was a noodle. A very cute noodle.
"Wow," you teased, poking his bicep. "So scary. Marcus better watch out."
"I'm serious," Jake said, his face growing solemn. "If I'm an Alpha, I can be the boss. And if I'm the boss, I can make a rule that no one is allowed to be mean to you. Ever." Your heart did a funny little flip.
"I don't need rules, Jake. I can take care of myself."
"I know," he sighed, shimmying closer until his head was resting on your shoulder. "But I want to take care of you, too. You always protect me. I want to take a turn."
"Okay," you whispered, turning off the flashlight so the room was plunged into darkness. "When we grow up, you can take a turn."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
He fell asleep like that, breathing softly against your neck, his hand clutching the sleeve of your pajamas.
Fifth grade at age 10 brought the dreaded "Pack Biology" unit in health class.
The teacher, Mrs. Gable, pulled down a chart showing the three dynamics: Alpha, Beta, Omega. Alphas: The leaders, the protectors, the ones with the ruts and the knots. Strong, aggressive, dominant. Betas: The backbone, the stabilizers, standard biology. Calm, steady. Omegas: The nurturers, the heart of the pack, the ones with heats and slicks. Rare, precious, submissive. You sat next to Jake. He was staring at the chart with intense focus.
"Statistically," Mrs. Gable droned, "Two Beta parents have a 95% chance of producing a Beta offspring. There is a 4% chance of an Alpha, and a less than 1% chance of an Omega."
Jake slumped in his chair. After class, you found him sitting on the swing set, dragging his feet in the woodchips.
"What's wrong?" you asked, swinging next to him.
"95 percent," he grumbled. "That's basically 100 percent."
"So? What's so bad about being a Beta?"
"Betas are... boring," Jake said, kicking a rock. "And they can't mate bond. Not really. They don't have the bite."
"The bite sounds painful anyway," you shrugged.
"It's not about the pain," Jake looked at you with those big, earnest eyes. "It's about the connection. My dad says Alphas and Omegas are tied together by their souls. Like... magic. Betas just... like each other."
"Well, I like you," you said. "That's enough, isn't it?"
Jake looked at you. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over his face. He looked otherworldly pretty and handsome. "I guess," he murmured. "But I want the magic."
"Maybe you'll get lucky," you said. "Maybe you're the 4 percent."
"And you?" he asked. "What do you think you are?"
You thought about your parents. Your father was a massive, commanding Head Alpha. Your mother was a beautiful, elegant Omega.
"I think I'll be an Omega," you said confidently. "Like my mom. I like taking care of people. And I like soft blankets. And I hate fighting."
"You fought Marcus," Jake pointed out.
"That was different. That was for you."
Jake smiled, swinging a little higher. "Okay. So, if you're an Omega... and I'm the Alpha... then we're a perfect match."
"We're best friends, Jake. That's already a perfect match."
"Yeah," he said, looking at the sky. "Best friends."
The summer you turned twelve was the last summer of true childhood innocence. Puberty was knocking on the door, but it hadn't kicked it down yet.You spent every day in the treehouse your dad had built in the backyard. It was your sanctuary. No parents allowed. No bullies allowed. Just you and Jake. It was a hot August afternoon. You were lying on the wooden floorboards, drinking juice boxes and sweating. Jake was sketching in a notebook. He was getting really good at drawing. He was drawing you. "Stop moving," he mumbled, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration.
"It's hot," you complained, fanning yourself.
Jake put the pencil down. He crawled over to you.
"Y/N?"
"Yeah?"
"What happens if we present and... things change?"
"What do you mean?"
"Like... what if I become an Alpha and the pack tells me I have to find an Omega? A stranger?"
"You just say no," you said simply.
"Can you do that?"
"You can do whatever you want, Jake. It's your life."
He looked unconvinced. He picked at a loose thread on his shorts. "I don't want a stranger. I want to stay with you."
"We're neighbors, Jake. We're going to the same middle school. We're not going anywhere."
"No, I mean..." He struggled for the words. He was twelve, and the feelings were too big for his vocabulary. He just knew that the idea of being separated from you, of having a life that didn't revolve around you, made his stomach hurt. He lay down next to you, his head resting near yours. He turned so he was facing you.
His eyes were so close. You could see the flecks of gold in the brown. They were sparkly, innocent, and full of a blind trust that terrified you sometimes.
"Promise me something," he whispered.
"What?"
"Promise that no matter what we present as—Alpha, Beta, Omega, alien—we stick together. Two peas in a pod."
"Obviously," you rolled your eyes, reaching out to flick his forehead.
"No, say it. Promise."
"I promise, Jake. Me and you against the world."
"And..." he hesitated. "If you turn out to be an Omega... promise you won't let any big, mean Alphas take you away. Unless I say they're okay."
You laughed. "You want to approve my boyfriends?"
"Yes," he said deadly serious. "I have to vet them. If they can't beat me in Mario Kart, they can't have you."
"Deal," you giggled. "And if you turn out to be a big, scary Alpha... I promise to make sure you don't turn into a jerk like Marcus."
"I could never be a jerk to you," Jake said softly. He reached out and took your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. His palm was clammy.
"I love you, Y/N," he said. It was the platonic, intense love of a child.
"Love you too, Jakey."
You lay there in the heat, holding hands, listening to the cicadas buzz. You didn't know then that biology was already writing a different script. You didn't know that the soft, sweet boy with the sparkly eyes who wanted to be your protector was carrying the genetics of a rare, high-level Omega. And you didn't know that you, the girl who wanted to be soft like her mother, had a beast sleeping in her chest that would one day wake up and burn the world down for him.For now, you were just two kids in a treehouse. Two peas in a pod. Waiting for the rest of your lives to start.
Age 14 Puberty hit Jake Sim like a freight train, but instead of awkwardness and acne, it brought angles and height.
It happened over the summer before freshman year. You went away to a leadership camp for three weeks. When you came back, the boy waiting for you on your front porch wasn't the boy you left. He stood up as your dad’s car pulled into the driveway. He was taller—at least three inches taller. His shoulders, once bony and narrow, had broadened out, filling his t-shirt in a way that made your mouth go dry for a split second before your brain caught up. His jawline had sharpened, cutting a striking silhouette against the afternoon sun.But then he smiled, and the "Hot Stranger" vanished, replaced instantly by Jake. "You're back!" he yelled, bounding down the porch steps with the same puppy energy he’d had at five. He engulfed you in a hug, lifting you off your feet. He smelled different, too. Not the pheromones of a presented wolf yet—you were both still technically "pups"—but he smelled like deodorant, laundry detergent, and something distinctly warm and masculine.
"Put me down, you giant!" you laughed, slapping his back.
He set you down, grinning. "Did you shrink? Or did I just win the genetic lottery?"
"You grew," you accused, looking up at him. "It's unfair." He leaned down, bringing his face close to yours. And there they were. The eyes. Despite the sharp jaw and the new height, his eyes were exactly the same. Dark, shimmering, and impossibly round. Boba eyes, you called them. They still held that galaxy of innocence, that wet, shiny look that made it impossible to say no to him.
"Missed you," he whispered, the playfulness dropping for a second to reveal the clingy attachment underneath.
"Missed you too," you admitted.
Age 15 High school was a strange ecosystem. As everyone waited for their secondary genders to manifest, hormones were running rampant. Jake became popular by accident. He was quiet, he was athletic (soccer star), and he was devastatingly handsome. Girls—and some boys—would whisper when he walked down the hallway.
“Is he an Alpha? Look at those shoulders.”
“He has to be. He’s too hot to be a Beta.”
Notes appeared in his locker. Girls would "accidentally" bump into him. Jake didn't just reject them; he didn't even notice them.You were at your locker one morning, struggling with a jammed zipper on your backpack. "Here," Jake appeared out of nowhere, his chest pressing against your shoulder as he reached over to fix it. He was always in your personal space. He treated your personal bubble like it was his vacation home.
"Thanks," you muttered.
A girl from your math class, Sarah, walked by. She stopped, twirling her hair, looking at Jake with hungry eyes. "Hi, Jake. I like your sweater."
Jake didn't look up. He was focused on your zipper. "Thanks."
"Are you going to the pep rally?" Sarah pressed, stepping closer.
"I'm going with Y/N," Jake said, finally freeing the zipper. He zipped your bag up and patted it. "Done."
"Oh," Sarah’s face fell. She looked at you with a mix of confusion and jealousy. "You guys are... always together."
"Yep," Jake smiled, draping his arm heavily over your shoulders, pulling you into his side. "Two peas in a pod."
He turned you around and walked you to class, leaving Sarah standing there.
"You're rude," you whispered, though you leaned into his side.
"I'm not rude," he said, bewildered. "I answered her question."
"She was flirting with you, Jake."
"I don't care," he shrugged, resting his chin on the top of your head as you walked. "I'm busy."
"Busy doing what?"
"Hanging out with you."
It wasn't a grand romantic gesture. It wasn't in the rain. It was in his bedroom, on a Tuesday afternoon, while playing video games.
You were sitting on the floor, leaning back against the edge of his bed. Jake was sitting between your legs, his back resting against your chest. It was a tangle of limbs that would have looked scandalous to anyone else, but for you two, it was just Tuesday.
You were both sixteen. The pressure of "Firsts" was heavy in the air at school. First dates. First kisses. First presentations.
"Jacob kissed Jessica under the bleachers today," Jake said, his eyes glued to the TV screen as he mashed buttons on the controller. "Gross," you commented, braiding a small section of his hair. "Was it sloppy?"
"He said it was... wet. And electric." Jake paused the game.
The silence in the room shifted. It became heavy, charged with the curiosity of two teenagers who were too close for their own good.
Jake turned his head. Because he was leaning back against you, his face was upside down from your perspective. "Do you think it's electric for Betas?" he asked softly. "Or is that just an Alpha/Omega thing?"
"I don't know," you whispered. You stopped braiding his hair. Your fingers were resting on his scalp. "We could check," Jake said. It wasn't a proposition. It was a scientific inquiry. Or at least, that's what he pretended.
"Check?"
"Kiss," he clarified. "To see if it's electric. Since we haven't presented yet. We're the control group."
Your heart hammered against your ribs. You knew, logically, this was a bad idea. Friends didn't test-drive kisses. "Okay," you breathed out.
Jake shifted, turning his body so he was facing you. He sat cross-legged, his knees bumping yours. His boba eyes were wide, searching your face for any sign of hesitation. "Just a test," he whispered.
He leaned in.
His lips were soft. That was your first thought. They were chapped from the cold, but soft.He pressed his mouth to yours tentatively. Closed mouth. Innocent.
But then, he sighed. And you sighed. And the kiss deepened. Jake’s hand came up to cup your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. You instinctively grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. It was electric. It wasn't the biological spark of a mate bond—not yet—but it was the terrifying, white-hot electricity of realizing that the person you loved most in the world tasted really, really good. Jake made a low sound in his throat, a tiny whimper that sent a shiver down your spine. He tilted his head, his nose brushing against yours, and pressed harder. For ten seconds, the world dissolved. There was only Jake. Jake’s warmth. Jake’s smell (still just laundry detergent, but somehow intoxicating). Jake’s lips moving against yours with a clumsy, desperate hunger.
Then, he pulled back. You were both panting slightly. His lips were red. His eyes were blown wide, pupils dilated. He looked at you with a terrifying amount of hope.
"That was..." he started. Panic set in. If you acknowledged what just happened—that you liked it, that you wanted to do it again—everything would change. The friendship, the safety, the "peas in a pod." What if you presented as something incompatible? What if he met his fated mate later and you were just a mistake?
"Scientific," you blurted out, your voice cracking. Jake’s face fell. The light in his eyes dimmed just a fraction. "Right," he swallowed, pulling his hand away from your face. "Scientific. No electricity."
"Nope," you lied, your heart breaking a little. "Just... lips."
"Okay." He turned back around, picking up the controller. But his hands were shaking. "Level four?"
"Yeah. Level four."
You didn't talk about it. But the air between you had changed. It was thicker now. Heavy with things unsaid.
Age 17 The kiss haunted you. To escape it, you did what any confused, panicked teenager would do: you tried to find "normal." You started dating Caleb. Caleb was safe. He was a year older, a newly presented Beta. He was nice enough. He played guitar. He smelled like cedar chips (a standard Beta scent).
Jake didn't take it well. When you told him, he went quiet. His face went blank, shutting down in a way you rarely saw.
"Oh," was all he said. "Okay."
He didn't make a scene. He didn't fight for you. He just... retreated. He stopped coming over every night. He stopped touching you constantly. He still sat with you at lunch, but he sat across from you, not next to you. The loss of his physical presence felt like phantom limb pain. The relationship with Caleb lasted three months. And it was terrible.Caleb was insecure. He didn't like how close you were with Jake.
"Why does he look at you like that?" Caleb asked one night while you were watching a movie.
"Like what?"
"Like he owns you."
"He's my best friend, Caleb."
"He's a guy. And he's not presented yet. He could be an Alpha waiting to happen. I don't like it."
You tried to make it work. You created distance with Jake to appease Caleb. You ignored Jake’s texts. You stopped going to the treehouse. And then, Caleb cheated. You found him at a party, making out with a girl from the drama club. The breakup was messy. Caleb was defensive, calling you "frigid" and blaming your obsession with your "little pet Jake." You walked out of the party, tears streaming down your face, feeling hollowed out. You didn't call your mom. You didn't call your dad.
You walked three miles in the dark to Jake’s house.
It was 1:00 AM. The Sim house was dark. You threw a pebble at Jake’s window.
He opened it almost instantly, as if he had been waiting. He was shirtless, wearing pajama pants, his hair tousled from sleep. He looked down, saw you crying on his lawn, and didn't hesitate.
"I'm coming down."
He met you at the back door. He didn't ask what happened. He didn't ask why you were there. He took one look at your tear-streaked face and opened his arms.
You collapsed into him. "He... he..." you sobbed, unable to get the words out.
"Shh," Jake whispered. He pulled you into the living room, onto the big plush sofa.
He sat down and pulled you into his lap. You were seventeen, almost fully grown, but he held you like you were five. He wrapped his legs around yours, his arms banding around your waist, burying his face in your neck. "He's an idiot," Jake murmured into your skin. The vibration of his voice soothed the ache in your chest. "Whatever he did, he's an idiot."
"He cheated," you choked out. "And he said... he said I was cold."
Jake stiffened. His arms tightened around you, his grip bordering on painful. "You're not cold," he growled. It was a low sound, surprising for an unpresented boy. "You're warm. You're the warmest thing I know."
He rocked you back and forth. He used his thumb to wipe the tears from your cheeks, his touch incredibly tender.
"I hate him," Jake said quietly. "I want to punch him."
"Don't," you sniffled, leaning your head on his shoulder. "He's not worth it."
"He made you cry. That makes him worth hurting."
Jake looked at you then. The moonlight was filtering in through the window, illuminating his face. He had grown into his features so well. He was beautiful. But his eyes... those boba eyes were shiny with unshed tears of his own. He was crying because you were crying.
"I'm sorry," you whispered. "I'm sorry I pushed you away."
"Don't do it again," Jake said, his voice cracking. He pressed his forehead against yours. "Please. I can't... I can't function when you're not there. It's like trying to breathe underwater."
"I won't," you promised. "No more boyfriends. Just us."
"Just us," he agreed. He didn't kiss you. He could have—you were vulnerable, you were close—but he didn't. Instead, he just held you. He ran his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp until your breathing evened out.
"Sleep," he commanded softly. "I've got you."
You fell asleep on his chest, listening to the steady, strong beat of his heart. You woke up the next morning in his bed (he had carried you upstairs). He was asleep next to you, his hand gripping your waist even in his sleep. You looked at him and realized that Caleb was right about one thing. Jake did look at you like he owned you.
But as you watched him sleep, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheek, you realized something else. You wanted to be owned.
Your eighteenth birthday was supposed to be the start of your life. In the Silver River Collective, eighteen is when the biological clock strikes midnight. It’s the unveiling.
You spent the weeks leading up to it terrified and excited. Would you be a regal Omega like your mother? A commanding Alpha like your father?
The day came. You woke up. You checked the mirror.
You looked exactly the same. You smelled exactly the same.
You waited a week. Then a month.
Nothing. The pack doctors ran tests. "Late bloomer," they shrugged, marking your chart with the clinical code for Unpresented/Presumed Beta. "It happens. Not everyone gets a wolf." You watched the light in your father’s eyes dim just a fraction. He didn't love you less, but the expectation of a legacy had evaporated. You were just... Y/N. Normal. Boring. Invisible. Then came November. Then came Jake.
Jake Sim turned eighteen and the universe didn't just knock; it kicked the door down.
His presentation was violent and immediate. One day he was the beta boy next door; the next, he was one of the Pack’s Crown Jewel.
He presented as a Male Omega.
In your pack, Male Omegas were unicorns. They were prized for their high fertility, their potent scents, and their rarity. When Jake returned to school after his first heat week, the atmosphere shifted gravitationally. He walked down the hallway, and heads turned. Alphas stopped mid-sentence, nostrils flaring, tracking the scent of peaches and fresh rain that trailed behind him like a royal cape. He had filled out. His skin glowed with that distinct Omega luster. His lips looked softer, redder. He was undeniably, breathtakingly beautiful.
And you? You were the shadow walking beside the sun.
People stopped seeing you. They looked right through you to get to him.
"Jake, want to sit with us?"
"Jake, did you finish the calc homework?"
"Jake, you smell amazing."
You expected him to drift away. It would have been natural. He belonged to the elite now, the hierarchy of scents and instincts. You belonged to the background.
But Jake didn't drift. He anchored. If anything, his presentation made him more obsessed with you. "They're so loud," he complained one day at lunch, pressing his face into your shoulder to hide from a group of staring Alphas. "Can we go to the library? I need to smell your detergent. It quiets my brain."
"I'm boring, Jake," you muttered, stabbing at your salad. "Go sit with Sunghoon and Jennie. They're Alphas. They're your crowd now."
"They smell like warm body spray and ego," Jake mumbled, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer. "I'd rather sit with you."
Sophomore year of college. The dynamic was set in stone. Jake was the campus idol—the Music Production major with the face of a model and the scent of heaven. You were his "friend." The Beta bodyguard. It was a Friday night in October. Jay, a popular Alpha and friend of Jake’s, was throwing a massive house party. "I don't want to go," you groaned, lying on your bed.
"Please?" Jake pleaded. He was standing in your doorway, dressed in a black band tee, and ripped jeans. He looked dangerous. He looked edible. "Jay invited me, and he said I could bring a plus one. I'm not going without you. If I go alone, I'll get eaten alive."
"You love the attention," you accused, though you were already reaching for your shoes. "I hate the attention," he corrected. "I only want attention from one person."
He gave you that look—his eyes, wide and shimmering—and you crumbled. You always crumbled. Jay’s house was a sensory nightmare. The bass was shaking the floorboards. The air was thick with the smell of cheap beer, sweat, and a cocktail of pheromones. You stuck to the wall, nursing a red solo cup. Jake was seated on the main sofa, a king in his court. He was laughing at something Jay said, throwing his head back, exposing the long, elegant line of his throat. He looked radiant.
You watched him, a familiar ache settling in your chest. You loved him. God, you loved him. But you were a dud. A non-entity. You couldn't give him what he needed. He needed a mate. He needed a bite. He needed an Alpha.
"Hey."
You looked up. A girl was standing next to you. A Beta you recognized from History class. "You're Y/N, right? Jake Sim's... friend?"
"Yeah."
"Is he single?" she asked, shouting over the music. "My roommate is dying to ask him out, but she's scared of you."
"Scared of me?" You let out a bitter laugh. "Why? I'm nobody."
"You have a vibe," she shrugged. "Like a guard dog."
You looked back at the sofa. The mood had shifted. A woman had sat down next to Jake. You knew her. Kim Minji. A senior. A Female Alpha. She was stunning—tall, sharp-featured, radiating a scent of crushed mint and leather that cut through the room. She was everything you weren't. Powerful. Presented. Compatible. She was leaning into Jake’s space. Her hand was resting on the back of the sofa, fingers inches from his neck. She whispered something in his ear. Jake smiled. It was a polite smile, tight at the corners, but he didn't pull away. He couldn't. Social etiquette for an Omega dictated he be polite to high-ranking Alphas. Then, Minji moved. Her hand slid from the sofa to Jake’s knee. A red haze dropped over your vision.
It wasn't rational. It wasn't logical. It was primal. The sound of your plastic cup crushing in your hand was lost in the music.You felt a growl vibrating in your throat, low and dangerous. Get your hands off him.But you were just a Beta. You had no right.
"I'm leaving," you snapped at the girl next to you.
You turned and shoved your way through the crowd, heading for the door. You couldn't watch it. You couldn't watch him be claimed by someone worthy.The night air was cold, biting at your heated skin. You marched down the sidewalk, angry tears stinging your eyes.
"Y/N! Wait!"
Footsteps pounded on the pavement behind you.
You didn't stop. "Go back to the party, Jake. Minji was just getting started."
"I don't care about Minji!"
Jake caught up to you, grabbing your arm. He spun you around.
He was out of breath, his chest heaving. His band shirt was slipping off one shoulder. He looked frantic. "Why did you leave?" he demanded.
"Because I don't belong there!" you shouted, ripping your arm from his grip. "I'm not part of your world, Jake! I'm just the background character holding your bags while you get flirted with by real Alphas!"
"Real Alphas?" Jake scoffed, stepping closer. "You think she's a real Alpha? She smells like mouthwash and desperation. She touched my knee and I wanted to vomit."
"She can give you a bond!" you yelled, the truth finally spilling out. "She can knot you! She can bite you! I can't do anything! I'm just Y/N! I just have... this." You gestured vaguely to your body. "It's not enough for an Omega."
Jake went silent. He stared at you, his eyes searching your face in the streetlights. His chest was rising and falling rapidly.
"Is that what you think?" he whispered, his voice trembling. "That I want a knot? That I need some biological lock to feel safe?"
"It's what you're built for."
"I'm built for you," Jake hissed.
He stepped into your space, eliminating the distance. He grabbed the lapels of your jacket and yanked you close.
He kissed you. It wasn't the innocent, scientific kiss from when you were sixteen. This was desperate. It was angry. It was hungry.
He tasted like beer and peaches. He kissed you like he was trying to breathe you in, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, claiming you. You froze for a second, then you broke. You wrapped your arms around his neck, hauling him flush against you. You kissed him back with all the pent-up frustration of the last year.
"My place," Jake gasped against your lips. "Now."
Once yo reached his place you stumbled into his room, lips locked, hands roaming.
The door slammed shut, locking out the world.The room smelled like him—concentrated, sweet, safe. But tonight, the air was crackling with a different kind of energy. Jake broke the kiss, shoving you gently towards the bed. He looked frantic, his eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears.
"Take it off," he ordered, his voice shaking. He was pulling at his own band tee shirt, ripping it over his head. You stripped quickly, your hands trembling. When you were both bare, the silence in the room was deafening. You stood there, feeling exposed, feeling inadequate.
"Jake," you started, "I don't know if I can—"
"Shh," he silenced you, stepping forward. He placed his hands on your shoulders and turned you around. You faced the wall, your heart hammering against your ribs. You felt the mattress press against your knees as he guided you down.
"I want to show you," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "I want to show you that I don't need a knot. I need to be inside you. I need to feel you."
He pushed you forward until you were on your hands and knees. It was a submissive position, one usually reserved for Omegas, but tonight, he was flipping the script. He wanted to claim you.
You felt him move behind you. He was shaking. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, the sweet, cloying scent of an aroused Omega filling your lungs.
"Y/N," he whined, a high, needy sound that made your toes curl. He pressed himself against your back. His skin was soft, burning hot. He wrapped his arms around your waist, clinging to you like a lifeline. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his wet eyelashes fluttering against your skin.
"Please," he whimpered. "Let me."
You nodded, unable to speak. He guided himself to your entrance. He was trembling so hard it took him a moment to find the rhythm. But when he pushed inside, a sob tore from his throat. "Oh god," he cried, the sound muffled against your shoulder. "You're so warm. You're so warm."
He didn't take control like an Alpha would. He didn't dominate. He moved with a desperate, clingy need. He kept his chest pressed to your back, his arms locked around your waist as if he was terrified you would disappear if he let go.
He began to move. It wasn't a power play. It was a plea.
With every thrust, he made a sound—a soft, broken whine that was pure Omega. He was the one penetrating you, but he was the one unraveling.
"Do you feel me?" he sobbed, biting gently on your shoulder to ground himself. "I'm right here. I'm connected to you. No knot can do this. Only us."
You gripped the sheets, your head falling forward. The sensation was overwhelming—not just the physical pleasure, which was sharp and blinding, but the emotional weight of it. He was literally pouring himself into you.
"Jake," you gasped.
"I love you," he cried, his hips snapping forward, driving deeper. "I love you so much it hurts. Don't make me find an Alpha. I don't want them. I hate them. I only want you."
He was crying openly now, his tears dripping onto your bare back. He sounded so pathetic, so needy, and yet he was the one holding you down, the one filling you up.
"I'm yours," you whispered, the truth finally slipping out.
"Say it again," he begged, his pace quickening, his breath hitching. "Tell me you're mine."
"I'm yours, Jake. I'm yours."
That was it. That was the trigger. Jake let out a long, high-pitched wail, his body tensing. He thrust into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt, and collapsed against your back. He held you with a crushing grip, shaking violently as he came.
You felt him pulse inside you, and you shattered with him, your own climax hitting you in a wave of white light. He didn't pull away. He couldn't. He stayed there, slumped over your back, his face buried in your neck, sobbing quietly. He was heavy, warm, and smelled like peaches and salt. "Don't leave," he mumbled into your skin, his voice thick with sleep and exhaustion. "Stay inside. Stay close."
You reached back, running your hand through his sweat-damp hair. "I'm not going anywhere."
The morning sun was cruel. It illuminated the dust motes and the reality of the situation.You woke up with Jake’s limbs tangled in yours. He was the big spoon, curled around your back, his arm heavy over your waist. He was still asleep, his breath hitching every now and then like a child who had cried themselves to sleep.
Panic set in. Cold and sharp.
What have I done?
You had crossed the line. You had slept with the pack’s most eligible Omega. You, the unpresented nobody. You had taken something that should have been saved for a real Alpha who could take care of him properly.
Jake stirred. He tightened his grip on your waist, nuzzling your shoulder.
"Morning," he murmured, his voice raspy and content.
You carefully untangled yourself from him and sat up. You pulled the sheet around your body, creating a barrier.
The smile froze on Jake’s face as he felt the loss of your warmth. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Y/N?"
"We... we shouldn't have done that," you whispered, staring at the floor.
Jake looked like you had slapped him. "What? Why? It was... it was perfect. You felt it."
"It was a mistake, Jake. I got jealous. I let my emotions get the better of me."
"So?" Jake asked, his voice rising, panic creeping in. "I wanted you to! I've been waiting for you to get jealous! Does this mean we're... are we together now?"
He looked so hopeful. His eyes were wide, pleading. It killed you.
"No," you said, forcing your voice to be steady, even though your heart was breaking. "We can't be."
"Why not?"
"Because look at you, Jake! You're an Omega! A high-level Omega! And I'm... I'm nothing. I'm a dud. I can't knot you. I can't bite you. Last night... last night was great, but eventually, your biology is going to demand those things. Eventually, you're going to meet your fated mate."
"I don't want a fated mate!" Jake yelled, grabbing your hand. "I want you! I don't care about the knot! Didn't I prove that?"
"You say that now," you said, pulling your hand away. "But you're eighteen. You don't know what's out there. I won't be the reason you miss out on your true mate."
You took a breath, steeling yourself to offer the only compromise you could live with. The only way to keep him without ruining his future. "But... if you want... we can keep doing this. Until you find someone else."
Jake went still. He stared at you, his eyes welling with fresh tears. "You want to be... friends with benefits?"
"It's better than nothing, isn't it?" you said, hating yourself. "I can take care of your needs. I can keep the Alphas away. But no labels. No promises. Because I can't promise you a future I can't give."
It was a cowardly offer. You were terrified of losing him, so you built a cage of "no strings" to protect yourself from the inevitable heartbreak.
Jake looked down at his hands. He looked at the empty space in the bed where you used to be.He knew he should say no. He knew he deserved a mate who would claim him proudly in the streets. He knew he was worth more than a secret.
But he looked at you—his best friend, his protector, the person who let him cry while he fucked her because he was so overwhelmed with love.
"Okay," he whispered, his voice small.
"Okay?"
"If that's all you can give me," Jake looked up, a single tear tracking down his cheek. "I'll take it."
He crawled to the edge of the bed, reaching out to grab your hand again. He pressed his cheek against your palm, submitting to your terms, even though it broke his heart.
"Just don't leave me," he begged. "Please don't leave me alone."
"I won't," you promised, leaning down to kiss his forehead. "I'm not going anywhere."
That was a year ago.
Now, you are both twenty. The "situationship" has become a lifestyle. To the outside world, you are best friends. To the walls of Jake’s apartment, you are everything.
You sleep together almost every night. You know every inch of his body. You know that he likes to be the one in control, but he needs to be praised while he does it. You know that he cries when it’s too good. You know that he needs to be held for exactly twenty minutes afterward before he can speak. He is still the talk of the campus. Alphas still bring him gifts. He politely declines them all. "I'm busy," he tells them.
He comes home to you. He crawls into your lap, smelling of other people's perfumes and colognes, and scrubs his face against your neck until he smells like you again.
"You're mine," he whispers in the dark, when he thinks you're asleep. "Even if you won't say it. You're mine."
And you? You hold him tighter, consumed by the guilt and the pleasure, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for the day the universe corrects its mistake and takes him away.But for now, in the dark, he is yours. And you are his loser, his unpresented mistake, his secret keeper.
The lie began on a Thursday afternoon in the lecture hall of the Science Building.
Jake was sitting in his usual spot, third row, tapping his pen against his notebook. He was tired. His cycle was approaching—he could feel the pre-heat itch under his skin—but the calendar said he had at least another week. He was managing it. He was fine.Then, the door opened.A girl walked in. She was late. She was a transfer student, someone Jake hadn’t seen before. She was tall, with sharp eyes and a confident stride.She walked right past Jake’s desk to get to an empty seat.
As she passed, the air shifted. It hit Jake like a physical blow. Cinnamon . Leather. Woodsmoke. It was the scent of a dominant Female Alpha. And not just any Alpha—a compatible one. Jake’s biology betrayed him instantly. His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs. His mouth watered. A sharp, cramping heat coiled low in his stomach, seizing his insides. His Omega instincts, usually dormant and suppressed by blockers, woke up and screamed: Pack. Protection. Mate.
He gasped, dropping his pen. The girl paused. She turned, looking down at him. Her eyes flashed red for a microsecond—her Alpha recognizing a distressed Omega.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice low and rumbling.
That voice. It vibrated in Jake’s bones. It told him to bare his neck. It told him to submit.
And Jake hated it.
He hated the lack of control. He hated that his body wanted to bow to a stranger just because she had the right hormones. He hated that for a split second, he forgot about you. "I'm fine," Jake choked out, grabbing his bag. "I have to go."
He scrambled out of his seat, ignoring the Alpha’s confused look, ignoring the professor calling his name. He ran out of the building, bursting into the cold autumn air. He leaned against the brick wall, hyperventilating. The heat was already rising. The encounter had triggered a biological override. His heat wasn't a week away anymore. It was coming now. He pulled out his phone. His hands were shaking so hard he could barely type.
Y/N.
He needed you. He needed your scent—your neutral, detergent scent. He needed your hands. But he couldn't tell you the truth. If he told you that a Female Alpha had triggered his heat, you would do the "noble" thing. You would tell him to go to her. You would push him away, convinced that biology knew better than love. You would leave him. The thought made his chest ache more than the heat did. He swallowed the bile in his throat and typed the lie.
Jake: I think my suppressants failed. It's starting early. Can you come over? Please
You got the text while you were in line at the campus bookstore.
Panic, cold and familiar, washed over you. Early? You abandoned your place in line. You called your boss at the library and told him you had a family emergency. You emailed your professors that you were sick.
Then, you went to the grocery store. You moved through the aisles with robotic efficiency, playing the role you had carved out for yourself: The Beta Caretaker.
Items:
Gatorade (Blue, his favorite).
Protein bars (he wouldn't want to cook).
Soft blankets (he liked new textures when he was nesting).
Peaches (canned, in syrup—comfort food).
Painkillers.
You arrived at his apartment twenty minutes later. The hallway already smelled faintly of him—a sweet, rising dough scent that warned of the storm to come.
You unlocked the door.
"Jake?"
The apartment was dark. The blinds were drawn.
"Bedroom," a voice croaked. You walked in. Jake was buried under a pile of blankets on his bed. Only his eyes were visible—those big, shiny boba eyes, now glassy with fever. "You're here," he whimpered.
He scrambled out of the blankets. He was wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants. His skin was flushed a deep, rosy pink.
He practically tackled you. "Whoa, easy," you said, dropping the grocery bags as his weight hit you. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling deeply. He made a frustrated sound.
"You smell like the bookstore," he complained, rubbing his cheek aggressively against your collarbone. "I need you."
"I'm here, Jake. I'm right here."
You walked him back to the bed, though he clung to you like a koala. You sat down, and he immediately straddled your lap, wrapping his arms around your neck. "It hurts," he whispered, pressing his hot forehead against yours. "It feels heavier this time."
You ran your hands up and down his bare back, trying to soothe the tremors running through him. You felt the guilt rise in your throat.
"Jake," you said softly. "The books say the second heat is more intense. The body is... demanding a mate."
He stiffened in your arms.
"So?" he challenged, pulling back to look at you. His eyes were dark, pupils dilated.
"So... maybe we should call someone. Not a stranger. But maybe... Jennie? Or Jay? Someone safe. Someone who can help you properly."
It tore your heart out to say it. The thought of Jake with anyone else made you want to vomit. But you were a dud. A placeholder. If his heat was this bad, could you really satisfy him?
Jake’s expression shifted from pain to pure, unadulterated anger.
"No," he growled.
"Jake, be reasonable. I can't knot you. I can't—"
"Shut up!" he shouted, his hands gripping your shoulders hard enough to bruise. "Stop trying to give me away! I don't want them! I don't want an Alpha! I want you!"
"But why?" you cried, frustration leaking out. "I can't give you what your body is screaming for!"
"You don't know what my body is screaming for!" he yelled back, tears spilling over. "It's screaming for safety! It's screaming for Y/N! If you bring an Alpha in here, I will bite them. I swear to god, I will hurt them."
He collapsed against you again, sobbing into your shoulder.
"Don't leave me," he begged, his voice breaking. "Please don't make me be with them. They smell wrong. They feel wrong."
The lie hung in the air between you, unspoken. He wasn't just rejecting Alphas; he was rejecting the memory of the girl in the lecture hall. He was fighting his own biology to keep you.
You sighed, wrapping your arms tight around him. You were weak. You should be stronger. You should force him to do what was right for his health. But you couldn't deny him."Okay," you whispered into his hair. "Okay, Jake. No Alphas. Just us."
"Just us," he echoed, his grip tightening. "Promise."
"I promise."
The evening passed in a haze of tension.
Jake was unbearable. The pre-heat hormones stripped away his filters. He was needy, demanding, and incredibly sensitive.
He wouldn't let you leave the bed.
"I need water," you said, trying to untangle yourself from his limbs.
"No," he whined, pinning your leg down with his own. "Stay."
"I'm thirsty, Jake."
"I have spit," he offered, completely serious.
You laughed, despite the heaviness in the room. "You're gross."
"I'm dying," he corrected dramatically. "I'm dying of need and you want water."
Eventually, you managed to get the water and the snacks. You fed him peach slices in bed while he watched you with predatory, hazy eyes.
"You know," he murmured, licking syrup off his thumb. "You smell better than them."
"I don't smell like anything."
"To me you do," he insisted. "You smell like... stillness. Like the eye of the storm. Alphas smell like noise. You're quiet."
He crawled over to you, pushing the bowl of peaches away. He pushed you down onto the mattress.
"Sleep with me," he commanded.
"I am sleeping with you. I'm right here."
"No. Sleep." He emphasized the word. "I need to wake up with you. If I wake up alone..." He shuddered. "Don't make me wake up alone."
"I won't."
You lay down. Jake curled himself around your back—usually he liked to be the big spoon, claiming you, but tonight he wanted to be held. He backed into your chest, grabbing your arms and wrapping them around his waist.
"Hold me tight," he whispered. "Like a seatbelt."
You squeezed him. His skin was radiating heat like a furnace. The scent of peaches was thickening, turning from fresh fruit to something darker, heavier. Like fruit left in the sun too long. Intoxicating and overwhelming.
You fell asleep with your nose buried in his hair, breathing in the scent of your best friend, your lover, your forbidden Omega.
You didn't wake up to sunlight. You woke up to movement.
It was the gray hour of the morning, just before dawn. The room was heavy. The air felt thick, humid, and tasted of sugar and salt.
Jake was moving.
You were lying on your stomach—you must have rolled over in the night. And Jake... Jake was on top of you.
But not in the usual way.He was straddling your thighs, his weight pressing you into the mattress. He was panting, short, sharp breaths that sounded wet in the quiet room. "Jake?" you mumbled, sleep still clouding your brain.
He didn't answer. He couldn't.
The heat had hit. He was in the throes of it. His logic was gone. His human inhibitions were gone. He was pure instinct now. And his instinct was confused, beautiful, and desperate. Usually, an Omega in heat would be submissive, presenting, waiting to be taken. But Jake... Jake had always been a little different with you. He felt safe enough to take what he needed. You felt him shifting, his hips grinding against your lower back. He was slick—so slick. You could feel the wetness soaking through your pajama pants. "Y/N," he whined. It was a high, broken sound. "Need. Need."
He fumbled with your waistband, his hands clumsy and shaking. He shoved your pants down, exposing your skin to the cool air, which was immediately replaced by the searing heat of his body.
"Jake, wait," you tried to push up, but he shoved your shoulders down.
"Mine," he growled. It wasn't an Alpha growl—it didn't have the bass. It was a possessive, desperate snarl. "Don't move. Please. Don't move."
He wasn't asking for permission to top you. He was asking for permission to use you as his anchor. He positioned himself. You felt the tip of him—hard, weeping pre-cum, hot as a branding iron—press against your entrance.
"I love you," he sobbed.
And then, he sank into you. He entered you from behind, collapsing forward so his chest was pressed against your back.
"Oh god," you gasped into the pillow.
He was so hot. Inside and out. It felt like being filled with lava.
He didn't wait. He began to move immediately. It wasn't the rhythmic, controlled lovemaking of your usual nights. This was frantic. This was survival.
He was humping you, his hips snapping forward with a violence that shook the bedframe. But the sounds he was making... they broke you.
He was crying. He was whining. He was babbling nonsense into your skin.
"Right there. Good. So good. You're so warm. My Beta. My Y/N."
He reached around, his arms wrapping under your chest, locking his hands together to hold on for dear life. He was clinging to you like a sailor to a mast in a hurricane.
You reached back, grabbing his hair, trying to give him some resistance, something to ground him."I've got you, Jake," you gritted out, the friction building rapidly. "I'm here."
"Don't let go," he pleaded, his thrusts becoming erratic, shallow then deep. "I feel empty. Fill me. No, let me fill you. I don't know. I don't know."
The confusion of his biology—needing to be filled but needing to claim you—was making him delirious. He solved it by trying to merge with you completely.
Then, you felt it.
His teeth. He turned his head, finding the sensitive curve of your neck.
He didn't ask. He didn't hesitate.He bit down.
"Ah!" you cried out.
It wasn't the mating bite. He didn't have the Alpha fangs to pierce deep enough for the soul-bond, and you didn't have the gland to receive it. But it was hard. It was primal.
He clamped his teeth onto the muscle of your shoulder/neck junction. It was a hold. A scruffing. He was holding you in place, grounding himself through the taste of your skin, the texture of your flesh. The pain was sharp, but the pleasure was sharper.
Feeling him claim you like that—like an animal, like he had every right to leave a mark on you—sent a jolt of arousal straight to your core.
"Jake," you moaned, pushing back against him.
The bite seemed to trigger him. The taste of you, the submission of you lying there letting him use you... it pushed him over the edge.
He let go of your neck with a gasp, his head falling back.
"Y/N! Y/N!"
He slammed into you, once, twice, three times—deep, ruinous thrusts that hit your deepest spot. He came with a shout. It was a raw, shattering sound. You felt him pulsing inside you, twitching wildly as his heat-fueled orgasm ripped through him.
He collapsed completely.
He was dead weight on top of you. He was panting, his breath hot and wet against your ear. He was trembling so hard his teeth were chattering. You lay there, pinned beneath him, your own body throbbing with the aftershocks of his intensity. The room was silent for a moment, save for the harsh breathing. And then, the scent hit.
It exploded.
Before, he smelled like peaches. Now?
The room smelled like a peach orchard that had been set on fire. It was thick, sugary, smoky, and heavy. It was the scent of a satisfied Omega in the peak of his heat.
It was so strong you could taste it on your tongue. If you were an Alpha, you would have gone into a rut instantly. If you were an Alpha, you would have lost your mind.
But you were Y/N. You were a Beta. So instead of a rut, you just felt... love. And an overwhelming, protective fieriness. Jake shifted. He didn't pull out. He stayed inside you, keeping the connection. He nuzzled his face into your messy hair.
"Did I hurt you?" he whispered, his voice wrecked. You reached up, touching the stinging spot on your neck. It was definitely going to bruise.
"No," you lied softly. "You didn't."
"I bit you," he confessed, sounding horrified. "I tasted you. I'm sorry. I just... I needed to make sure you were real. I needed to hold you."
"I'm real, Jake. I'm not going anywhere."
"You smell like me now," he murmured, sounding pleased, almost drunk on the hormones. "You smell like my heat. No Alpha will come near you. They'll smell me all over you."
"Is that what you want?"
"Yes," he hissed, tightening his arms around you again. "I want everyone to know. You're taken. You're the Omega's. You're mine."
He kissed your shoulder, right over the bite mark, soothing the skin he had just abused. "Round two," he mumbled, his body already reacting again, defying the laws of exhaustion. "Please. Don't make me move."
"I'm not moving," you promised, closing your eyes and letting the heavy, sweet scent of him lull you into submission. "Do whatever you need."
And he did.
The seventh day of an Omega’s heat is not a slope; it is a cliff. It is the biological finale, the "Crest," where the body stops asking for a mate and begins to demand one with a ferocity that overrides logic, dignity, and sanity.
For six days, you had been enough. You had been his anchor, his cool washcloth, his hydration, his comfort. You had held him through the tremors and the fever dreams.
But on the morning of the seventh day, the atmosphere in the apartment shifted from heavy to suffocating. Jake woke up not with a soft nuzzle, but with a frantic, jerky movement. He was thrashing in the sheets, his skin burning so hot it felt dangerous to touch, like a fever that had spiked past the safety zone. His scent—usually peaches and rain—had soured. It didn't smell like fruit anymore. It smelled like burnt sugar and ozone. It smelled like distress.
"Jake?" You sat up, reaching for him. "Jake, look at me."
He opened his eyes.
They were swimming. The dark, warm brown you loved was swallowed by a dilated pupil, rimmed with a hazy, golden desperation. He looked through you, not at you. His wolf was at the surface, scratching at the controls.
"Hurts," he whimpered, a broken, reedy sound that tore at your chest. "It hurts. Inside. Everywhere."
He clawed at his own neck, his nails digging into the sensitive skin over his scent gland. The gland was swollen, pulsing visibly beneath the pale skin, desperate for the release of a claiming bite.
"Don't do that," you said, grabbing his wrists to stop him from hurting himself.
"Need," he sobbed, his body arching off the mattress. "Need... tight. Need to be held. Need... Alpha."
The word hung in the air, sharp and cruel.
He didn't mean to say it. He didn't even know he was saying it. But his biology knew what was missing. He looked at you then, his eyes focusing for a split second. He saw you—his Y/N, his safe place. And he lunged.
He didn't attack you. He collapsed onto you. He pushed you back against the pillows, his weight heavy and feverish. He wasn't trying to dominate you in the way an Alpha would; he was trying to merge with you. He was trying to climb inside your skin because his own was too painful to inhabit. "Help me," he cried, his hands fumbling blindly with the waistband of your pajama shorts. "Please. Help me. Fill the empty. Make it stop."
You helped him. You always helped him. You shimmied out of your clothes, your heart hammering against your ribs. You lay back, opening your legs for him, offering the only thing you had: your body. Your Beta body.
Jake didn't wait. He couldn't. He positioned himself between your legs, his movements erratic and clumsy with heat-shakes. He was trembling so violently that his teeth chattered.When he entered you, he didn't thrust with power. He sank into you with a sob.
"Oh god," he wept, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "Y/N. Y/N."
He felt huge, hot, and desperate. He filled you completely, but the physical connection wasn't enough to quell the storm in his blood.
He began to move.It was heartbreaking. He wasn't fucking you for pleasure; he was fucking you for survival. He ground his hips against yours, seeking friction, seeking depth. He wrapped his arms around your torso, locking his hands together under your back, clinging to you as if the bed was a raft in the middle of the ocean.
He didn't scream. He didn't roar.
He whimpered. With every thrust, a soft, high-pitched cry escaped his throat. It was the sound of an animal in a trap.
"Please," he babbled into your skin, his tears wetting your collarbone. "Please, please, please."
"I've got you," you whispered, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer, running your hands down his sweat-slicked back. "I'm right here, Jake. I'm holding you."
"Not enough," he moaned, the truth slipping out in his delirium. "It's not... it's not locking. Why won't it lock?"
He was searching for the knot. The biological mechanism that Alphas had (and he needed) to lock inside him or, in rare cases, the reaction that would lock him inside a Female Alpha. But you were a Beta. Your body was soft, welcoming, and warm, but it didn't have the clamp. It didn't have the biological key to his lock.
He picked up the pace, his desperation mounting. He was chasing a horizon he couldn't reach.
Then, he turned his head.
His nose brushed your neck. He inhaled deeply, searching for the pheromones that would trigger his release. He found only your detergent and your fear.
"Bite," he begged, nuzzling your pulse point frantically. "Mark me. Claim me. Please, Y/N. Bite me."
Your heart shattered. You knew it wouldn't work. You knew your teeth were flat. You knew your saliva lacked the enzyme. But hearing him beg, feeling him throb inside you, knowing he was in pain... you couldn't say no.
"Okay," you choked out. "Okay, Jake."
You turned your head. You found the swollen, pulsing gland on the curve of his neck.
You opened your mouth and bit down. You bit hard. Harder than you ever had. You put all your frustration, all your love, all your desperate desire to be enough into your jaw. Jake gasped, his back arching.
"Yes!" he moaned, a long, shaky sound. "Yes, yes, there. Take it."
For a moment, the sharp pressure was enough. It tricked his brain. He felt teeth on his gland, he felt you inside him (or rather, him inside you), and he felt the pain spike. He drove into you, his hips snapping forward in a frantic rhythm. He was chasing that sensation, trying to force the bond to snap into place. "Harder," he whined, tears streaming down his face. "Break the skin. Make it stay. Don't let go."
You bit harder. Your jaw ached. You tasted the salt of his sweat. You felt the skin under your teeth yield slightly, but it didn't puncture. It didn't tear. It just bruised. You were gnawing on him like a dog with a bone, but you couldn't break the seal. You couldn't give him the chemical rush of a mate claim.
Jake’s whimpers turned into sobs. "Why?" he cried, his voice wrecking. "Why isn't it working? Alpha... where is Alpha?"
He wasn't calling you Alpha anymore. He was calling for an Alpha. Any Alpha. The abstract concept of the thing that could save him.
The realization made you loosen your jaw. You pulled back, gasping for air.
You looked at his neck. It was a mess. A purple, angry welt was forming where you had bitten him. It looked painful. It looked ugly. It wasn't a claim; it was an injury.
"I can't," you whispered, tears blinding you. "I can't do it, Jake."
"You have to!" he cried. He slammed his hips into you one last time, his body seizing.
The orgasm hit him, but it wasn't the wave of relief he needed. It was a crash.
He cried out—a sharp, keening wail of overstimulation. He stiffened, pouring himself into you, his muscles spasming uncontrollably. But instead of the relaxation that should follow, he kept shaking. He was overwhelmed. His system was flooded with heat hormones that had nowhere to go because the bond hadn't grounded them.
He slumped forward, collapsing onto your chest. He was dead weight.
He didn't drift into a peaceful sleep. He passed out. It was a blackout induced by exhaustion and biological frustration. His brain simply pulled the plug because the body couldn't handle the stress anymore.
"Jake?"
You touched his cheek. He was burning up. His breathing was ragged and shallow. He was unconscious, but even in sleep, his brow was furrowed in pain.
You lay there, pinned beneath him, feeling his seed inside you and his tears drying on your chest. You looked at the bruise on his neck. It was a brand of your failure.
You carefully, slowly pushed him off you. He rolled onto his side with a soft groan, curling into a fetal position instantly, seeking warmth.You sat up. You were shivering. The room was cold now that the heat of the moment had passed.
You looked at him. He was beautiful. Even now, messy and exhausted and bruised, he was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.
And you were killing him. It wasn't a metaphor anymore. You were physically hurting him. By keeping him in this situationship, by pretending that your love could override millions of years of evolution, you were denying him the one thing his body needed to be healthy: a true mate.
If he had been with an Alpha—Jay, Jennie, even that girl Minji—they could have bitten him. They could have knotted him. He would be asleep right now with a smile on his face, the bond humming in his blood, the heat broken and satisfied.
Instead, he was passed out from trauma, sporting a bruise instead of a bite.
"I'm sorry," you whispered into the silent room. "I was so selfish."
You thought you were protecting him from Alphas who might treat him like a trophy. But in reality, you were the one treating him like a possession. You were keeping him for yourself because you needed him, ignoring the fact that he needed something else.You stood up. Your legs were shaky. You felt liquid running down your thighs—a stark reminder of the intimacy you had just shared, and how futile it was.
You walked to the bathroom.You showered. You scrubbed your skin until it was raw, trying to wash off the scent of burnt sugar and failure. You watched the water swirl down the drain, taking your hopes with it.
You dressed in the clothes you had arrived in a week ago. Jeans. Hoodie. Sneakers. They felt like armor. You went to the kitchen. It was quiet. The hum of the refrigerator was the only sound. You opened the pantry. You needed to do one last thing for him. You couldn't leave him to wake up hungry. You pulled out the ingredients for Kimchi stew. It was his comfort food. You moved automatically. Chopping the kimchi, slicing the tofu, measuring the water. You stood over the stove, stirring the pot, letting the steam warm your face. You poured your love into the food because you couldn't pour it into a bond.When it was done, you ladled it into a glass container. You placed it on the top shelf of the fridge, right at eye level. You grabbed a sticky note.
You held the pen, your hand trembling. What could you say? I love you? No. That would make him chase you. I'm sorry? Not enough.
You wrote:
Jake,
Stew is in the fridge. Drink the Gatorade.
- Y/N
It was cold. It was practical. It was the note of a friend, not a lover. It was a wall.
You walked back into the bedroom.
The air was still thick with his scent. It made your wolf—the tiny, dormant thing inside you—whine in protest. Mate, it whispered. Don't leave mate.
"Shut up," you told yourself. "He's not ours."
You placed a fresh glass of water and two painkillers on the nightstand next to his head.You looked at him one last time. You memorized the curve of his eyelashes, the slope of his nose, the way his lips parted slightly in sleep. You memorized the ugly purple bruise on his neck so you would never, ever forget why you had to leave.
You bent down. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to kiss the bruise and apologize.
But you didn't. If you touched him, you wouldn't leave.
You straightened up. "You need an Alpha, Jake," you whispered, your voice cracking. "Not a Beta who plays pretend."
You grabbed your bag. You walked to the door. You stepped out into the hallway. The click of the lock sliding home sounded like a gunshot.
The walk back to your apartment was a blur.
It was late. The campus was quiet. The streetlights blurred into streaks of light as your eyes filled with tears you refused to shed.
You made it to your building. You made it up the stairs. You made it into your apartment.You locked the door.And then, you collapsed.You slid down the door until you hit the floor. You pulled your knees to your chest and buried your face in your arms.The tears came then. Not quiet, polite tears. Ugly, heaving sobs that shook your entire body. You wailed into your knees, the sound muffled by the fabric of your jeans.
You cried for the boy you loved.
You cried for the biology that hated you.
You cried for the bite you couldn't give.
You decided then and there. No more situationship. No more "friends with benefits." No more holding him while he cried for someone else.You had to be the villain. You had to be the one to cut the cord.He would hate you. He would scream. He would cry.
But eventually, the pain would fade. Eventually, his heat would come again. And without you there to enable him, he would be forced to seek out an Alpha. He would find someone who could truly claim him. He would be happy.
And you?You would be the Beta in the background. The guard dog who finally opened the gate and let the wolf run free.You sat there on the floor of your dark apartment, crying until your throat was raw, mourning a relationship that was doomed before it ever began.
The Next Morning Jake woke up to silence.
The sun was streaming through the blinds, hitting him right in the face. He groaned, shielding his eyes. His body felt like he had been hit by a truck. Every muscle ached. His head was pounding. His neck...
He reached up. His neck throbbed with a dull, bruised pain.
Memory washed over him in fragments.The heat. The desperation. The biting. The failure. "Y/N?" he rasped.
He rolled over. The other side of the bed was empty. The sheets were cool.
"Y/N?" he called louder, panic starting to prickle in his chest.
He sat up, ignoring the dizziness.
"Y/N!"
Silence. He saw the water on the nightstand. The painkillers.
He scrambled out of bed, his legs weak. He stumbled into the kitchen.
Empty.He saw the note on the counter. He picked it up.
Jake,
Stew is in the fridge. Drink the Gatorade.
- Y/N
He stared at the handwriting. It was neat. Steady.
He crumpled the note in his fist.
"No," he whispered. "No, no, no."
He ran to the front door. He yanked it open and looked out into the hallway, as if hoping you were just standing there.
Empty. She was gone. She had packed her bag. She had cooked him food. She had medicated him. And she had left.
Jake slid down the doorframe, clutching the crumpled note to his chest.
He felt the bruise on his neck throb. It wasn't a claim. It was a goodbye kiss.
Tears welled in his eyes, hot and fast.
"You idiot," he sobbed into the empty apartment. "You think you're saving me? You're just breaking me." But he was too weak to chase you. His heat was broken, but his body was exhausted. He curled up on the doormat, holding the note, and cried for the Alpha he didn't want and the Beta he couldn't keep.
The silence between two people who have shared a soul since childhood is not empty; it is heavy. It is a physical weight that presses down on your chest, making every breath a conscious effort.
For the first two weeks after you walked out of his apartment, Jake didn't let you go easily. He was Jake. He was the boy who had clung to your leg on the first day of kindergarten. He didn't understand the concept of giving up on you.
His name lit up your phone screen constantly.
Jake (8:02 AM): Y/N, please. Just talk to me.
Jake (12:30 PM): I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said during the heat. I was out of my mind. It wasn’t real.
Jake (7:45 PM): I’m outside your door. I know you’re in there. I can hear you walking. Please open up.
Jake (11:00 PM): Did I hurt you? Is that why? I’ll never ask for a bite again. I promise. Just come back.
You read every single one. You read them sitting on the floor of your living room, your back pressed against the door he was knocking on.
You listened to his knuckles rap against the wood.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Then a pause.
"Y/N?" his voice muffled, thick with unshed tears. "Please."
It took every ounce of willpower you possessed not to rip the door open. Your body screamed at you to go to him. Your heart ached with a physical sharpness that felt like a heart attack. But then you would remember the bruise. You would remember the way he looked at you with golden, delirious eyes and screamed for an Alpha. You would remember the way your teeth had failed to break his skin, leaving him sobbing in frustration. You weren't saving yourself. You were saving him. So you stayed silent. You let the tears stream down your face in the dark, biting your own hand to keep from sobbing aloud, until his footsteps finally retreated down the hall.
By the third week, the knocking stopped. The texts slowed down to a trickle, then ceased.
Jake Sim was sweet. He was kind. He was the type of boy who rescued spiders and apologized to inanimate objects when he bumped into them. He wasn't the type to harass someone who clearly wanted to be left alone.
He respected your decision, even though it was killing him.
But the campus was small, and the pack was smaller. You couldn't avoid seeing him.
The first time you saw him after the "breakup" (if you could call it that), it was in the cafeteria. You walked in, tray in hand, head down, trying to be invisible.
You looked up and froze. Jake was sitting at a large round table in the center of the room. He was surrounded. Jay was there, laughing loudly. Sunghoon was leaning in, saying something that made Jake smile—a small, polite smile that didn't reach his eyes. There were other Omegas there too, giggling and preening.
Jake was the sun. He had always been the sun. Even when he was an unpresented, shy kid, people were drawn to his warmth. Now that he was a presented Omega with a scent like heaven, he was a gravitational singularity.
And you? You stood by the condiment station, alone. You realized, with a crushing wave of clarity, just how much of your social life had been Jake.
People didn't talk to you because you were Y/N. They talked to you because you were the gatekeeper to Jake. You were the Shield. Without the person to protect, you were just... a Beta. A background extra in the movie of his life.
You took your tray to a small table in the far corner, near the trash cans. You sat with your back to the room. You didn't see it, but across the cafeteria, Jake had stopped eating. He was staring at the back of your head. His hand was gripping his fork so hard his knuckles were white.
"Jake?" Jay asked, touching his shoulder. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Jake whispered, tearing his eyes away from your lonely figure. "I'm fine."
Pack Nights were mandatory for the Silver River Collective. It was a time for community, for reinforcing the bonds that kept the wolves together.
Usually, Pack Night was your favorite. You and Jake would sit on a blanket near the fire, roasting marshmallows, making fun of Marcus, and sharing earbuds. You were a unit. A two-person pack within the pack.
This month, you went alone. You arrived late, slipping into the shadows at the edge of the clearing. The fire was roaring, casting long, dancing shadows against the pine trees. The air smelled of woodsmoke, roasting meat, and the intermingled scents of a hundred wolves. You sat on a cold log, pulling your knees to your chest.
You scanned the crowd. You found him instantly. It was impossible not to.
He was sitting near the Elders, a place of honor for high-ranking wolves. He was wearing a thick cream-colored sweater that looked soft enough to melt into. He was flanked by Heeseung and Sunghoon—two powerful Alphas who looked like his personal bodyguards. Heeseung was peeling an orange for him. Sunghoon was draping a blanket over his shoulders. They were taking care of him. They were doing your job. And they were doing it better. They were Alphas. They could offer him protection you couldn't.
A lump formed in your throat, hot and choking. You felt a wave of jealousy so potent it made your vision swim. That's my spot, you wanted to scream. That's my blanket. That's my Omega. As if he heard your thoughts, Jake turned his head.
He looked past the fire, past the Alphas, past the crowd. His eyes locked onto yours in the darkness. Even from fifty feet away, you could see the devastation on his face. He didn't look happy to be pampered. He looked lonely. He looked like a kid who had lost his mom in the grocery store. He made a movement to stand up. He placed his hands on the ground, ready to push himself up and come to you.
You panicked. If he came over here... if he looked at you with those sad, wide eyes... you would break. You would beg him to take you back, and the cycle would start all over again. The heat. The failure. The pain. You stood up abruptly. You turned and walked away, disappearing into the tree line. You didn't see Jake sink back down onto the blanket, his shoulders slumping in defeat. You didn't see him push the orange away, his appetite gone.
Three more weeks passed.
You were approaching your twenty-first birthday. The cutoff. The day you would officially, medically be declared a Beta for life.
But instead of settling into acceptance, your body was revolting.
It started subtly. You were in your dorm room, trying to study for a Business Law exam. Your roommate, Sarah, was chewing gum.
Smack. Smack. Smack.
Usually, you could tune it out. Today, it sounded like a gunshot next to your ear.
"Can you stop?" you snapped, your voice harsh in the quiet room.
Sarah jumped, looking at you with wide eyes. "Whoa. Sorry. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," you gritted out, rubbing your temples. "It's just loud."
"It's gum, Y/N."
"Just stop!" you slammed your book shut.
The anger was sudden and white-hot. It felt like a physical thing living in your chest, a caged animal throwing itself against your ribs. You stood up and stormed out of the room, leaving Sarah bewildered. Then came the nights. You couldn't sleep. You would toss and turn, kicking off the blankets because you were burning up, then pulling them back on because you were freezing. You woke up every morning soaking wet. Your sheets were damp with sweat. You showered three times a day, scrubbing your skin raw, but you never felt clean. You felt... sticky. Heavy. Like your skin was too tight for your body. "You look terrible," your reflection told you in the mirror. You had dark circles under your eyes. You looked pale, gaunt. But your eyes... there was something strange about your eyes. They looked brighter. Sharper.
"Stress," you told yourself. "It's just stress. Heartbreak is a physical illness."
You were starving. Always.
You ate four meals a day and were still ravenous. You craved meat. Rare meat. You found yourself ordering steaks at the campus diner and eating them like you hadn't seen food in weeks. "Growth spurt?" the waitress joked as she cleared your third plate. "Something like that," you muttered, feeling shameful. You stopped going to lectures.The lecture halls were too loud. Too smelly. That was the worst part—the smell. Suddenly, your nose was a superpower you didn't want. You could smell everyone. You could smell the Alpha in the front row who hadn't showered. You could smell the Omega three rows back who was wearing cherry blossom perfume. You could smell the fear on the students before a test. It was overwhelming. It was a sensory assault.So you stayed in your apartment. You drew the blinds. You sat in the dark. You were convinced you were having a nervous breakdown. You were convinced the grief of losing Jake had finally snapped your mind.
Jake noticed.
He noticed you weren't in your usual seat in Business Law. He noticed you weren't in the cafeteria. He noticed you hadn't been to the library in a week.
He was terrified.
He sat in his Music Theory class, staring at his phone. He typed out a text.
Are you okay? (Deleted)
I haven't seen you. (Deleted)
Please just tell me you're alive. (Deleted)
He respected your space because you asked him to. He loved you enough to let you go. But the silence was driving him insane. He started walking past your apartment building at night. He would stand on the sidewalk across the street, looking up at your window. The lights were always off.
"Where are you?" he whispered to the cold wind. "Y/N, where are you?"
He didn't know you were right there, sitting on the floor in the dark, clutching a pillow that smelled faintly like him, shivering through another wave of cold sweat.
The agitation became aggression.
You went to the corner store to buy water (you were so thirsty, all the time).
A guy bumped into you in the aisle. A tall, burly Alpha.
"Watch it," he grunted, not looking at you. Usually, you would have mumbled an apology and moved on. You were a Beta. You stepped aside for Alphas.
Not today. A low, vibrating sound started in your chest. It wasn't a word. It was a growl. The Alpha stopped. He turned slowly, looking at you. He looked confused. He was looking for the source of the sound, but he was looking right over your head. He didn't register you as the threat.
"Did you say something?" he sneered. You looked up at him. You felt a strange, cold calm wash over you. You looked at his neck. You visualized exactly where the jugular vein was.
"I said," you spoke, your voice dropping an octave, sounding rough and unrecognizable, "You're in my way."
The Alpha blinked. He took a step back. He looked unsettled. He couldn't explain why—you were just a small girl—but his instincts were telling him to move.
"Whatever, freak," he muttered, hurrying away.
You stood there, shaking.
What is happening to me?
You ran home. You locked the door. You curled up in your bed and cried.
Jake couldn't take it anymore. He had heard rumors. People were saying you looked sick. People were saying you had snapped at a professor. He bought a birthday gift. It was a small box. Inside was a silver bracelet with a charm shaped like a pea pod. Two little peas inside. He walked to your apartment. He stood outside your door. He could hear movement inside. Heavy, pacing footsteps. Like a caged animal.
He raised his hand to knock. But then, he smelled it. Through the crack in the door, a scent was leaking out. It wasn't your usual detergent scent. It wasn't the smell of illness. It was faint, but it was there.
Burnt Cedar. Honey. Dark Rum. It was the scent of a dominant Alpha. Jake froze. His heart hammered.
Is she with someone?
The thought nearly brought him to his knees. Had you moved on already? Was there an Alpha in there with you? Was that why you were missing classes? Were you... nesting? Tears pricked his eyes. He lowered his hand.
He couldn't interrupt. If you were with a mate, if you had found happiness... he had to let you have it. That was the deal. He placed the small box on the doormat. "Happy Birthday, Y/N," he whispered, his voice cracking. He turned and walked away, leaving you alone with a monster you didn't know you were becoming.
You were dying.
That was the only explanation. It was 11:00 PM. One hour until you turned twenty-one.Your apartment was a wreck. You had ripped the sheets off the bed because they were too rough. You had thrown a lamp across the room because the light was too bright. You were pacing the living room, naked, sweating profusely.
Your skin felt like it was splitting open. Your bones felt like they were lengthening, cracking, reshaping. The pain was blinding. You fell to your knees on the rug.
"Jake," you groaned. You didn't want to say it. You had promised to let him go. But in the face of this agony, your brain reverted to its default setting.
Jake. Jake. Jake. You needed him. You didn't know why. You just knew that if you didn't smell peaches and rain right now, you were going to shatter.
You crawled toward your phone, which was lying on the floor where you had dropped it hours ago.
You picked it up. Your vision was blurry, red around the edges.
You dialed his number. It rang once.
"Y/N?"
His voice was breathless, panicked. He picked up on the first ring.
"Jake," you rasped. Your voice sounded terrifying. It sounded like gravel grinding together.
"Y/N? What's wrong? You sound... are you sick?"
"Help," you choked out. "Hurts. Dying."
"I'm coming," he said instantly. No hesitation. No questions. "I'm coming right now. Don't move."
The line went dead. You dropped the phone. You curled into a ball on the rug, shivering violently. The clock on the wall ticked.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
11:58 PM.
11:59 PM.
The heat inside you hit a crescendo. It wasn't a fever anymore. It was an explosion.
A wave of energy ripped through your body, starting at the base of your spine and shooting out to your fingertips. You screamed, your back arching.
And then, the dam broke. The scent exploded out of you.
Thick. Heavy. Dominant.
Cedar forests burning in the night. The sharp tang of lightning (ozone). The deep, intoxicating warmth of spiced rum. It filled the room instantly. It saturated the furniture, the walls, the air.
12:30 AM.
You weren't dying. You were arriving.
The door burst open. The door didn't just open; it slammed against the wall, the handle punching a hole in the plaster.
Jake stood in the threshold, chest heaving, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat from his sprint across campus. He had burst in expecting a tragedy. He expected to find you sick, dying, or worse—nesting with the Alpha whose scent he had smelled outside.
"Y/N!" he screamed, scanning the dark room.
Then, the air hit him. It wasn't a drift of scent anymore. It was a tsunami.
It rolled over him in a physical wave—thick, suffocating, and terrifyingly potent. Burnt Cedar. Honey, dark Rum. It was the scent of a Prime Alpha, a dominant force of nature entering a Presentation Rut.
And it was coming from you. You were on the floor in the center of the rug, curled into a ball, shaking violently. You were naked, your skin glowing with a feverish, supernatural sheen. Jake froze. His brain short-circuited. There is no other Alpha, his mind whispered, the realization shattering his reality. It’s her. It’s always been her. And then, his biology answered.Jake’s suppressants, which he had been taking religiously since you left, evaporated instantly. The sheer force of your pheromones reached into his genetic code and flipped a switch.
His knees buckled. He gasped, clutching the doorframe, as a bolt of liquid fire shot through his veins. It wasn't the slow build of a normal heat. It was a flash flood. His scent glands flared open, dumping a concentrated cloud of Ripe Peaches and Heavy Cream into the room to meet your Cedar.
"Y/N," he groaned, the sound wrecked and wet.
You lifted your head. Jake stopped breathing.
Your eyes were no longer the soft, familiar color he had known since kindergarten. They were glowing. A deep, burning, bioluminescent red. The color of embers in a dying fire. The color of a predator.
You looked at him, and for a second, he saw the animal inside you assess him.
He stared back. His own irises flooded with gold, the pupil blowing wide until his eyes were pools of molten honey.
"Jake," you growled.
It wasn't your voice. It was a command that vibrated in the floorboards.
"It's you," Jake whimpered, stumbling forward, kicking the door shut behind him with his heel. He didn't lock it; he didn't care. "It was you all along." You didn't answer. You couldn't speak human words anymore. Your brain was entirely offline, replaced by the singular, driving need of a rutting Alpha who had just found her mate.
You uncoiled from the floor with terrifying speed. You didn't stand; you launched yourself at him. Jake met you halfway. You collided in the center of the living room with the force of two planets crashing. You grabbed him, your hands searing hot against his cold leather jacket. You slammed him back against the wall, the impact knocking a picture frame to the floor."Mine," you snarled, burying your face in his neck. You inhaled violently, dragging the scent of him into your lungs like oxygen.
"Yours," Jake sobbed, grabbing your face, forcing you to look at him. "I'm yours, Alpha. I'm yours."
You kissed him. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't sweet. It was a devouring.
Your mouths clashed, teeth grazing lips, tongues tangling in a messy, desperate war for dominance. He tasted like salt and desperation. You tasted like fire.
Jake made a noise against your mouth—a high, needy whine that drove you insane. He wrapped his legs around your waist, jumping into your arms, trusting your new Alpha strength to hold him up.
You caught him easily. You felt powerful. You felt limitless.
You carried him to the bedroom, not breaking the kiss. You kicked the door open and stumbled toward the bed, which was stripped bare to the mattress.
You threw him down. He bounced on the mattress, looking up at you with those wide, golden eyes. He was panting, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He reached for the zipper of his jacket, his hands shaking so hard he couldn't grasp the metal.
"Help me," he begged, his voice cracking. "Take it off. Please. I need skin. I need you."
You didn't have patience for zippers. You ripped the jacket open, popping the mechanism. You tore his t-shirt over his head. You shoved his jeans down his hips.
He helped you, kicking wildly to rid himself of the fabric.
When he was finally naked, sprawled out on your mattress under the moonlight filtering through the blinds, he looked like an offering. His skin was flushed pink, his nipples hard, his scent gland pulsing on his neck.
You crawled over him. The visual of you—a Female Alpha, powerful, muscles defined by the tension of the rut, eyes glowing red—hovering over him broke Jake completely. "Alpha," he whined, reaching up to trace the line of your jaw. "You're so beautiful. You're so strong."
You didn't wait. You couldn't. You settled between his legs. The heat radiating from him was intense, scorching your inner thighs. He was slick—his body producing the natural lubricant of an Omega in distress.
"Fill me," Jake pleaded, his hips bucking upward, seeking contact. "Fix me. You're the only one who can fix it."
You aligned yourself with him. This was different from before. Before, you were two friends trying to make biology work. Now, you were lock and key.
You guided him to your entrance. He was hard, weeping, desperate.
You sank down. "Oh, god!" Jake screamed, throwing his head back into the pillow.
The sensation was blinding.
Because you were presenting, because you were in a rut, your internal anatomy had shifted. You were tighter, hotter, your muscles gripping him with a possessive intensity that felt completely different.
You took him all the way in, until your pelvis ground against his.
"Y/N," he babbled, his eyes rolling back. "So hot. You're so hot."
You began to move.It was primal. You grabbed his wrists, pinning them to the mattress above his head. You dominated him completely. You set the pace—a punishing, grinding rhythm that forced cries out of him with every thrust.
Slap. Slap. Slap.
The sound of skin on skin filled the room, mixing with his wet, broken moans and your low, guttural growls. You leaned down, capturing his mouth again. You kissed him deeply, your tongue sweeping his mouth, tasting him, owning him. You swallowed his cries, drinking them down like wine.
Jake was a mess beneath you. He was thrashing, his hips snapping up to meet yours, trying to get deeper, trying to fuse his body to yours.
"Deep," he mumbled against your lips. "Deeper. Don't leave any space."
"I'm right here," you growled against his neck. "I'm inside you. I'm keeping you."
Your wolf was singing. Mate. Mate. Perfect Mate. He smelled right. He felt right. The way he submitted to you, baring his throat, hands around your waist to pull you closer—it was exactly what your Alpha instincts needed.
The tension built rapidly. This wasn't a marathon; it was a sprint to the claim.
You felt the pressure in your lower abdomen spike. It was a cramping sensation, heavy and inevitable. Your body was preparing the trap. "Jake," you panted, looking down at him. Your red eyes bore into his golden ones. "I'm going to lock."
Fear flickered in his eyes for a microsecond—the fear of the unknown—but it was instantly drowned out by longing.
"Do it," he commanded, his voice raw. "Trap me. Don't let me go. Never let me go."
He thrust up, burying himself as deep as he could go, and held it there.
You let go. You cried out, a roar tearing from your throat as your orgasm hit.
And then, it happened.
Deep inside you, the Alpha muscles—the mechanism you didn't know you had until today—slammed shut. It was a violent, powerful contraction. Your internal walls rippled and clamped down around the base of him, creating a vacuum seal. It was tighter than anything you had ever felt. It was a vice grip.
Jake screamed.
"Y/N! Y/N! Oh my god!"
The sensation of being gripped that tightly, of being literally milked by your body, sent him over the edge instantly. He shattered. He convulsed in your arms, his body bowing off the mattress. He poured himself into you, his release unending, triggered and sustained by the crushing pressure of your lock.
"I can't—it's too much—Alpha!" he sobbed, shaking violently.
But you couldn't stop. You were locked. Your body had him. You were holding him prisoner in the most intimate way possible. You collapsed forward, your chest heaving against his. You were fused together.
But the ritual wasn't done. The heat was broken, the rut was satisfied, but the bond needed the seal. The scent in the room was now a perfect, swirling nebula of your combined essences. Burnt Cedar and Peaches and Cream.
You lifted your head. Jake was panting, his face wet with tears and sweat. He looked wrecked. He looked divine. He saw where you were looking. He saw your eyes fixate on his neck. He didn't flinch this time. He didn't cry out for a stranger. He tilted his head back, exposing the gland. The bruise you had left weeks ago had faded to a faint yellow shadow. It was ready.
"Please," he whispered, his golden eyes locking onto yours. "Make it permanent. I don't want to be anyone else's. I only want you."
You lowered your head. You licked the skin first, tasting the salt, tasting the pulse that fluttered frantically beneath the surface.
Then, you opened your mouth. Your canines—longer now, sharper, designed for this exact moment—grazed his skin.
You bit down.
Crunch.
It was a sickening, beautiful sound. Your teeth pierced the tough skin of the scent gland, sinking deep into the muscle. Jake cried out—a sharp, high sound of pain—but he immediately grabbed the back of your head and shoved you closer.
"Yes!" he hissed through his teeth. You clamped down. You felt the connection snap into place like a physical tether. It wasn't just blood you tasted; it was his soul. A flood of emotions that weren't yours crashed into your brain. Relief. Safety. Overwhelming love. Belonging. You pushed your own feelings back down the bond.
Possession. Adoration. Protection. Forever. You held the bite, your jaw locked, marking him, changing his biology, writing your name on his very DNA.
After what felt like an eternity, you slowly released the pressure. You licked the wound, your saliva sealing the puncture marks, leaving behind the jagged, raised scar of a Mated Omega. You pulled back to look at him. Jake was limp beneath you. His eyes were rolling back in his head, a look of pure, drugged bliss on his face. He was floating in the endorphin rush of the bite. "Mine," you growled, your voice rough.
Jake blinked, focusing on you slowly. He reached up, touching the fresh mark on his neck. He smiled—a messy, tear-stained, radiant smile.
"Yours," he whispered. "Finally."
The lock didn't release for twenty minutes.
You stayed there, joined, breathing the same air. The red faded from your eyes, settling into a warm, dark brown. The gold in Jake's eyes softened back to his deep doe-eyed color. He ran his hands up and down your back, tracing the muscles that had emerged during your presentation. "I knew it," he murmured, his voice raspy.
"You knew what?" you asked, kissing the tip of his nose.
"I knew you weren't a Beta. I knew you were special." He chuckled, a weak sound. "Though I didn't expect... this." He gestured to the intensity of the room. "You're a powerhouse, Y/N."
"I'm sorry," you whispered, resting your forehead against his. "I'm sorry I left. I'm sorry I made you wait."
"Shh," he silenced you with a soft kiss. "You didn't make me wait. You were cooking. You needed to bake until you were ready."
He shifted his hips, wincing slightly as the knot finally began to loosen.
"Besides," he smirked, a flash of his old playful self returning. "The stew you left was really good."
You laughed, a sound of pure relief. "You ate the stew?"
"Of course I ate the stew. It was made with love. And guilt. But mostly love."
The knot released. You pulled away slowly, the separation leaving a phantom ache. You rolled off him, collapsing onto the mattress beside him. Jake immediately rolled over, draping his arm and leg over you, burying his face in your neck. He took a deep breath of your new scent.
"Cedar," he hummed happily. "I love cedar now."
"I love peaches," you replied, wrapping your arm around him.
The sun came up, but you didn't move.
You were in a nest. Sometime during the night, instinct had taken over. You had pulled every blanket, pillow, and piece of clothing within reach onto the bed.
Jake was asleep on your chest, drooling slightly. The bite mark on his neck was angry and red, but it was healing. It was real.
You traced the line of his spine. You felt different. The anxiety that had plagued you for years—the feeling of being invisible, of being a "dud"—was gone. You felt grounded. You felt heavy in a good way. You knew exactly who you were.
You were Y/N. The Alpha. Jake’s Mate. Jake stirred. He lifted his head, blinking sleepily. He looked at you, then at the bite mark on his reflection in the mirror across the room.
He grinned.
"Happy Birthday, Alpha," he whispered.
"Best birthday ever," you agreed.
"So," he traced circles on your chest. "Since we're mated now... and since you're in a rut... and since I'm in heat..."
"Yeah?"
"We have about four days of lost time to make up for."
He climbed on top of you, his eyes darkening with intent.
"Can you handle it?" he teased.
You grabbed his hips, flipping him over so you were hovering above him again. You flashed your eyes—just a flicker of red—and saw him shiver with delight.
"I can handle you, Jake Sim," you promised. "I was made to handle you."
"Two peas in a pod," he breathed, pulling you down for a kiss.
"Two peas in a pod."
Hope you enjoyed this Drabble Please support me by Liking, Commenting and Re-blogging!
Taglist: @kristynaaah , @fancypeacepersona , @vanillakirstein , @kyunlov , @gabrielinhaa , @blindingvenomss , @graythecoffeebean , @firstdivisiongirl , @strxwbloody , @love4choso , @woninabillionn , @tunafishyfishylike , @vveebee , @heesbabygurl , @twocupsofsuga , @meandmyboringlife , @artezia4 , @neabrownn , @heeevangelizesme (plz let me know if you want to be on my perm Taglist or just for the rust & gold series!)
PAIRING: hockeyplayer!jake x f!reader (feat. brother!sunghoon)
GENRE: brothersbestfriend-to-lovers au, uni au, smut, fluff, coming-of-age, childhood friends au
SYNOPSIS: you grew up orbiting your brother's fast-paced world, school days filled with your hometown rink and boys who were the personification of the biting winter chill. somewhere along the way — between neighborhood sledding and blacking out at uni house parties — you watch jaeyun turn from your brother's quiet best friend to jake sim, your university's most coveted star hockey player. one that you happen to have a devastating crush on, a friend you've known since childhood. [in otherwords] a story about crossing a line you can't come back from with a boy that you can't have, and realizing that you can't stand beside him when it hurts more each time you do.
WARNINGS: marijuana consumption, smoking (shotgunning), cussing, violence/blood (hockey fight), mentions of alcohol consumption, making out, fingering (f/receiving)
WC: 12.3k
AUTHOR’S NOTE: a fic not set in summer?? who am I omg 0.o
i couldn't find an enha hockey fic that i liked, so i decided to write one for myself HAHA and now you guys can to read it too! this is super self indulgent, and there’s a note at the end w a hockey clip lmfao [ manhwa in banner from @/so_wha.1 on ig ]
APPLE MUSIC PLAYLIST ★
—
“Jake.”
Your eyes glance up from the hot cocoa warming your hands to the sharp eyes of a boy already looking at you, maintaining his gaze even when his name is called. His piercing expression doesn’t change, but as you peer up at him, you can feel a flicker of want before you look away with warming cheeks. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the edges of his mouth lifting before he turns away.
“Jake.”
It’s odd to hear his name on it’s own like that, not when you’re used to hearing it roared by crowds through jampacked uni rinks; not when Sim Jaeyun is something bigger than himself already, a household name in premier league hockey and a constant on your university’s community forum.
While he’s like a myth of sorts to the rest of the student body, he’s definitely very real as he sits in the living room of yours and Gawon’s shared apartment, quilt thrown over his legs that he’s claimed from years of movie nights and sleeping over.
He’s got his hoodie pulled low, bleached hair falling over his eyes and cuffed sleeves pulled up to his elbows, crowded into the arm of the couch by your other friends talking animatedly next to him. He fiddles with the delicate silver chain around his wrist, a matching gift you got him and your brother in primary school. Because that’s what he is to you.
Before ice hockey, before uni, before amateur fame, Jake was your hometown friend.
If you can call it that.
“Jake, dude, come back to earth.”
Jake shifts, turning to his left at your brother’s voice.
Realizing you spaced out staring at his wrist, you snap out of it with a jolt and catch Jungwon’s expression next to you, a grin on his face as he responds to your dazed look with a raise of his eyebrows.
It’s mid January, the bite of vicious winter air unable to get to you in the warmth of the studio apartment you lease during the semester. In here, it’s all warm tones and paper garlands — ones you made together with Gawon during the holidays — candle warmers brightening the living room as your friends litter the space, their bright chatter and the clink of mugs filling cozy, sepia air. Soft indie-pop plays from the old radio your parents gifted you and your brother Sunghoon when you had moved away for university, his grace in letting you have it lost on you (he bought himself a new speaker with cash he “borrowed” from your wallet during Christmas instead).
If you could keep this moment ingrained in your soul forever, you’d do it in a heartbeat; tangerine light spills out from your little kitchenette, Gawon and Sunoo’s mischievous giggles ringing out as they crowd around the oven, the smell of burnt cinnamon cookies faint behind the chilli hot cocoa wafting up from next to you.
Jungwon has his head on your shoulder as he pulls a fleece blanket onto your lap, his plaid pajama-clad leg thrown lazily over yours. You can see Ni-ki and Jay in your peripheral vision thumbing through your DVD bin thoroughly as they hunch in front of your TV.
Your friendship has been steady throughout all first three years of uni, nights made up of late movie theater runs and overcooked ramen, attempted snowboarding down empty city streets at 3am and all nighters pulled at the sauna to escape the claws of studying.
If Jake and Sunghoon were at hockey practice, you’d all pile into Jay’s 2005 Hyundai and drive to the rink to watch them, making raunchy commentary that would have your brother slamming his stick against the plexiglass in playful warning. You all knew that they secretly liked it, Jungwon’s consistent “I’d let you slam me into the barricade” echoing out and drawing a flicker of a smile out from their coach before he would threaten to make you leave. He let you all back in every time.
It was the same during the weekends, when you and Ni-ki would be holed up in the practical arts and sculpture department of your university, hands covered in clay and silt and pottery glaze as you chiseled away at your individual term projects before the start of the week. Ni-ki’s r&b playlist drifting through the still, dusk-masked studio would be broken with the loud shouts from your friends as they filed in with snacks and bottled coffee from the vending machine, determined to give you a caffeinated sugar high to make it through the next few hours of work.
The eight of you have been consistent since the beginning, and the last thing you would ever want is to be the cause of your dependable friend group dynamic to change.
Your brother scrunches his nose at you from across the room, now squished into a loveseat definitely made for one with Jake.
“Stop chewing in my ear, Won.”
At your soft voice, Jungwon’s eyes widen innocently before he stuffs another marshmallow in his mouth and leans in, noise amplifying.
“That’s nasty,” you can’t help but giggle at your friend, your eyes creasing as he sticks his tongue out immaturely.
Your gaze subconsciously trails to Jake again, his attention now on your brother as he throws an arm over the back of the couch to reach for the TV remote. The bottom of his hoodie rides up a bit, a sliver of his toned stomach visible before he’s flopping back into the couch again. You will yourself to look away while the back of your hand comes up to feel your cheek, startling when your skin is hot to the touch.
It was a night just like this that you realized you were hopelessly in love with Jake, more than just a friend should.
In retrospect, how could you not? He was out of every little girl’s dream future-husband-wish-list, perfect to a T in a way that you couldn’t even describe with words.
His professors, his coach, his teammates would say that he didn’t have a bad bone in his body, always approaching others with kindness and raw honesty that made him easily likeable, even with players on rival teams. His classmates would say that he’s personable and too outgoing, attracting people everywhere during group projects and library sessions but still getting the work done on time without fail. Your parents would say that he’s the son they never had — sheepishly covering Sunghoon’s ears, of course — polite, smart, and dependable, from helping your mom carry the groceries to washing garden vegetables in the kitchen with your dad when all of you were home for break.
But it was his flaws that made you like him even more. What made Jake so loveable to you were the sides that only a few people got to see, deep and thoughtful underneath the first layer that you had to get through first.
You were there when his childhood dog passed away, trying his best not to cry and stay strong for his mom even when you and Sunghoon were bawling your eyes out on the sidewalk. You were there when he got drunk for the first time, staring with horror as he got on all fours on the dirty asphalt in the alley behind your local bar because standing up felt too “wavy.” You remember shivering in the cold in a short skirt, hands on your knees from laughing so hard as Sunghoon frantically called an older friend to come pick you up, scared that you’d get busted for being underage.
When everyone else was too busy, Jake would be the one who sat for hours as your “model” while you sketched, scolding him when he moved and exploding into fits of giggles when he would give up in the middle. He believed in your art more than you yourself did, and that meant everything to you — even now. He still sits on the plastic chair next to your work station in the sculpture studio until late at night, content with just humming to himself as you work quietly.
You were also there when Jake and Sunghoon got their official hockey gear for the first time in year five, their thrilled squeals ringing around your neighborhood as your parents set up a practice shooting pad in your front yard. Even though hockey wasn’t as mainstream as baseball or basketball at the time, it still meant everything to them.
It’s funny to see the same setup now when they come back home as big stars, bigger than your small town has ever seen. The same town with the same dingy rink that raised them to stardom, good enough until it was too small to hold them.
The three of you grew up in a one-major-intersection, snow-filled sidewalk kinda town, lamp posts covered in taped flyers about high school hockey tournaments in obnoxious red type that were miraculously still there after years.
Sunghoon and Jake were better friends than you and Jake were, but you’d still run from your job at your local province radio station to the ice rink at midnight with your school friends, just in time to catch the last of late night practices. Old 90’s tunes would crackle out of the janky speakers from the local radio, pre-queued by you so that the three of you could listen to your favorite songs if you timed it right.
Your friends and their teammates would go home after a bit, but you’d stay, fighting the cold to sit with your brother and Jake on the foam mats just off the ice. It was tradition, the hum of the zamboni behind you as you brought them warm, watered down coffee in styrofoam cups from the 24hr convenience store outside. They’d still be in their hockey uniforms, hair slick with sweat.
Back then, no matter how annoying or gross you thought they were, you still looked up to them with all of the admiration you had in your young body.
You can still feel it now if you wanted to, the shared winters that fill your well-loved memories of growing up in a scuffed-up rink. Fresh ice, rough leather, and the smell of sweat that clung to your clothes long after leaving, even if you weren’t the one skating. In your hometown, ice hockey wasn’t just a sport. It was the thing that raised Park Sunghoon and Sim Jake, larger-than-life players whose jerseys were mass produced and worn by thousands across the country now.
When Sunghoon was drafted into the Winter Olympics’ reserve team in high school — the youngest to ever be — you had watched from your small living room TV with your parents and Jake, all wide eyed and hands held in anticipation.
You can still remember the feeling of Jake’s thigh against yours on the carpet, his warm palms enveloping yours as he prayed. He was sniffling and recovering from a cold, but he still prayed with all his might that his best friend would make it big for the both of them.
He didn’t have to. A month later, Jake was chosen as the last reserve team member, and both were scouted for the top university’s first division ice hockey team. A year later, and your whole neighborhood was in your living room celebrating your own acceptance into the same school; this time, enrolled as a studio arts student.
You’re all older now, life is getting a little too real, and you realize that falling for him had to be inevitable.
You knew Jake when he was just Jaeyun, not Yonsei’s resident golden boy with a disarming smile and his signature cobalt blue jersey, #15 stitched across its back. But you’ve never wanted him like the people shouting his name through crowded university rinks want him.
You want him like you did when you were neighbors and eight, building life-size igloos with rainbow-dyed ice blocks and jumping for hours on his frozen trampoline. Just matching mittens knit by his grandmother, building snowmen and chasing winter hares, and a whole lot of feelings to go around. Just the two of you and infinite time.
Nostalgia will be the death of you.
As you sit in your living room now, with Jungwon’s head on your shoulder and Sunghoon’s side pressed against Jake’s, you come to the bitter realization that you might not ever get Jake the way you’ve always subconsciously yearned for. You don’t want to offset your own relationship with your brother — and especially with the rest of your friends — because once you cross that line, there's absolutely no coming back. You don’t ever want to have your friends choose a side, and what you have right now is too perfect to taint.
You’ve convinced yourself that you can live with being just friends, just like you always have.
But man, is it getting hard.
No one talks about how disorienting and weird it feels to come to the slow realization that you like someone who you're definitely not supposed to like, especially when you’ve spent your entire life as good friends. It’s disarming and you can’t help but feel icky when you look at him. You’re not supposed to want him like this, where your head pounds and you feel too warm everywhere.
Sometimes, though, you feel like his gaze lingers on you a little longer than the others too. In those moments you let yourself daydream a little, thinking about an alternate reality where he loves you just as loudly as you do in your head. Those moments get shattered though, especially when you remember where you are and who you’re with—
“—and why aren’t you getting lit right now, Jakey-bear,” Jay’s voice carries over the sound of a kitschy, low-budget horror film rolling on your TV, the glow from the screen flickering across his face as he messes with the buttons on the side.
Jake’s eyes lazily rake across the room before they land on his friend. Snorting, he offers a small smile before holding up his cocoa-filled mug.
“I don’t drink the night before games. We’ve gone over this.”
Jay shakes his head, standing up before collapsing on the carpet next to Jake’s feet.
“If only the world knew how fucking lame you are,” he mutters, throwing an arm over his face. “Maybe I’d be a hockey star too.”
Sunghoon turns to look at his friend on the floor.
“What?”
“You know, ‘cause I have a brilliant sense of humor and a fabulous personality. God knew not to make me athletic. I’d be unstoppable,” he says, patting Jake on the ankle. “Good thing you’re cute though. Makes up for the fact that you’re a…” Jay pauses to hold an ‘L’ up to his forehead before taunting, “loser.”
“Fuck off,” Jake says with a grin, pushing Jay’s shoulder with his foot for good measure.
You tune out of their bickering as Gawon settles down next to you, poking your cheek with a pout before offering up a plate of cookies.
“Sorry I left you for so long with these monsters,” she grimaces, glancing around at the living room in mock disgust at the scattered plates and empty beer cans. Jungwon peers at her from around you, frowning. “Not you though, Won. You’re my favorite.”
“I know,” he says smugly through a mouth full of cookie, hands already reaching for more. You look at your best friends in adoration, their smiles making you feel all warm and gooey inside.
It’s only when you turn your attention back to the TV that you catch bits of the conversation happening across the room, your brother’s loud voice dominating the movie playing.
“You better play your damn hardest tomorrow,” he emphasizes to Jake, nudging his shoulder. “There’s this hot hot girl from my stats class that’s been bugging me about you, you lucky bastard. And because I’m your best friend, I made her promise that she’d come over after the game for you if we win.”
Your heart falls out of your chest as you quietly look up at the two of them, catching onto the way Jake rolls his neck before slowly coming to look back at Sunghoon.
“And?” He says, albeit quietly.
“And? What do you mean ‘and?’” Sunghoon smirks, putting his hand on Jake's arm. “Don’t you want some good victory head? I heard she’s really good, knows how to go down—”
“Ugh, you freaks are disgusting," Sunoo laments from the kitchen, holding out a whisk to shake at the two of them. “Have some decorum, please.”
You’re used to your friends talking so casually about their sex lives, but the fact that it’s Jake is a whole different thing. You’ve heard stories, yeah, but nothing prepared you for how much it would hurt to hear after coming to terms with your own feelings.
You watch his reaction closely, his silence making you chew on your lip. It’s almost like he’s contemplating it. You can’t help the unwanted feeling of jealousy that bubbles up in you, your throat closing up as you look at your lap.
“Anyway,” your brother continues, “you definitely need it. You’ve been so tense recently.”
You refuse to look at them, instead distracting yourself by pulling at a strand of Jungwon’s sweater next to you. You can feel Gawon’s eyes on you.
She and Jungwon are the only ones who know about your feelings for Jake, their sharp senses catching on quick when they’d catch you staring at him more than you ever had. You had threatened them to promise never to tell after a particularly bad night, making them swear on their bloodline that Jake would never find out.
“Should I send her our address?” Sunghoon prods.
It’s silent for a few moments, before Jake's next words make your heart sink further.
“...yeah, I guess.”
Oh.
You feel a hand slide over your leg, Gawon’s rings cold against your skin as you look up at her.
She furrows your eyebrows, as if silently asking you if she should say something. Your eyes widen, shaking your head with a miniscule no. Don’t.
She tilts her head, as if questioning why?
Jungwon looks between the two of you with furrowed eyebrows.
She’s about to open her mouth when Sunghoon’s voice rings out again. You snap your head back in the rest of your friends’ direction, brushing Gawon’s concerned hand off your leg.
“Are you swinging by tomorrow’s game, Rockstar?” He calls you by the nickname he’s had for you since childhood, throwing a piece of popcorn up before catching it in his mouth. “It’s gonna be against KU. It’ll be a big one.”
You feel your eyes betray you as they flit to Jake quickly, finding him already looking at you.
“Uhh,” you start, looking at Jungwon nodding beside you for confirmation, “yeah. Yeah, I’ll be there.”
You start to get up to escape this feeling that’s creeping up your throat, but you’re stopped in your tracks by Gawon who gives you a look from beside you. You know that look.
Raising her voice suspiciously loud, she glances at Jake before grabbing your arm.
“Right, and who was that guy that you said was cute last time, Y/N? The top center for KU, right? He dm’ed one of my friends asking for your number, you know,” she starts, your eyes widening as you realize what she’s doing. She’s digging for a reaction from Jake.
You see Jake’s head tilt slightly, not fully acknowledging your conversation but still showing that he’s listening. Sunghoon, on the other hand, snaps his head around to give you a pointed glare.
“The fuck? Who?”
“No one.” You reply quickly, glaring back.
“Bullshit. Tell me, Y/N.”
“No one,” you say at the same time Jungwon says “Heeseung,” his figure immediately shrinking when you shoot him a look that you usually reserve for your brother.
“You’re kidding,” your brother starts, pulling out his phone before searching for something — someone — rapidly. “I’m gonna get his ass. He’s trying to get to us through my sister? Who the fuck does he think he is?”
With a sigh, you sit back down and close your eyes. You can already feel a migraine forming.
Yeah, you had thought Heeseung was cute the last time your universities had played each other, but that was only to desperately distract yourself from thinking about Jake. You knew you shouldn’t have said anything to your friends.
“Don’t talk to him, Y/N, I’m putting my foot down as your brother. You are forbidden from talking to him,” Sunghoon continues, exasperated.
Ni-ki snorts from the corner of the room, speaking up from underneath a swath of blankets.
“What are we in, the fucking middle ages?” He grins before pointing at you. “Watch out Y/N, your brother’s gonna ride out on a horse tomorrow and demand a duel with KU’s center.” Gawon laughs out loud before Sunghoon throws a piece of popcorn at her.
Tuning out Ni-ki and Sunghoon’s rising voices, you can’t help but notice the way Jake has seemingly clocked out of the conversation. He stares at the side of your face and then the ground when you give him a questioning glance. He doesn’t look back up after that, playing with his bracelet instead. The moment passes, and everything returning back to normal as your friends settle in around you. They pass drinks and food around, but you can’t help but overthink the entire conversation.
It’s still bothering you when you flop onto your bed an hour later, tired from talking. Everyone is still in the living room outside, but you need quiet space to think.
You’re laying off the edge of the bed with your knees up, hair lifting from the cool wind seeping through a crack in your window, when your door creaks open. Blue light spills in from the hallway before a figure slips into your room, stopping before you.
You turn onto your stomach, your sleep shorts riding up, and shoot Jake a small smile as he settles at the foot of your bed. He doesn’t say anything; he simply reaches for the bulky hockey bag he’s had since secondary school, left in your room from coming straight from practice earlier.
It’s a comfortable, full silence as you watch him from your position. He glances up every once in a while, careful hands wrapping the end of his hockey stick with new grip tape. He doesn’t speak for a long while, face pale from the moonlight and lip caught between his teeth like he always does when he’s focused. Long fingers loop around each other carefully as he lines the stick, finally putting it down after a few long minutes. You’ve watched him do this a million times, but it feels more intimate when he does it in your space.
You blink at him when he looks back up at you through his messy bangs, gaze full of something you can’t quite decipher yet.
His hands shake slightly from the chill in your room, so you silently offer him the fleece blanket from your bed. Instead, he gently pushes your hand away, climbing onto your bed before laying his head down next to you.
Tucking his chin on top of your childhood plushie, he tilts his head to look at you. Faint chatter from outside seeps under the crack of your bedroom door, the soft crackling of a burning candle filling the silence. His eyes seem to sweep across the expanse of your room before landing back on you.
“Nervous?” You finally whisper, with no need to talk at normal volume when he’s this close. Your heart is racing out of your chest but you regulate your breathing the best you can.
It's just Jake. You’ve had millions of talks like this before.
“Yeah,” he admits, shifting so that his hair isn’t in his eyes. The collar of his hoodie is loose in the position, his collarbones and a thin silver chain peeking out.
“Last game before recruiting season,” you continue, glancing down at the bandaid across his knuckles.
“Oh,” he sighs out. “Yeah, I guess.” He follows your gaze before tucking his hand under the plush.
“You’re gonna try to go pro for real?”
Jake pauses before grimacing, his dimple slightly showing itself before disappearing again.
“Yeah, if I can,” he says, your chest stuttering when he lets that smile that he reserves only for you take over his face. “Signing my soul away to the devil or whatever.”
You giggle, nudging his arm lightly.
“And you promise you’ll remember me when you end up playing in the national league, right?”
“You know I couldn’t forget you if I tried,” he reassures back, his voice heavy as if he means every word. He points at you, letting the tip of his index finger touch your shoulder. “And you can’t forget me when you’re some hotshot artist who sells paintings for more than my yearly rent.”
“Mm,” you tease, rolling onto your back, “maybe you’ll just have to buy one to see.”
“Consider me sold,” he murmurs back, tenderly staring at the side of your face.
You let your arms fall off the bed, stretching languidly before tucking your hair behind your ear. You wordlessly blink at him as he reaches out with a slight tremor in his hand, fixing a strand that’s blown into your eyes. His hand lingers for a second before he pulls away again, eyes fixed on yours with an unreadable expression.
It hurts to look at a face you’re so familiar with, one that’s been steadily by your side since you can remember.
“I’ll always root for you, Jake,” you say softly, honestly bleeding into your words.
There’s much to be left unsaid, but some part of you feels like he understands with the way he just peers at you, dark eyes never leaving your face.
“I know,” he whispers back, gaze leaving yours to travel to the doorknob, where his old skate laces are tied around the brass handle. They then flick over to your windowsill, where dark, scuffed pucks are stacked up the wood. Just below it is his worn hockey bag, stick poking out to lean against your tall stack of old CDs. There’s remnants of him everywhere, and not just physically either. He’s part of your core memories, from all eras of your life, and there will always be bits and pieces of him in the way you speak and behave too. “I’ll see you in the crowd tomorrow, yeah?”
“Always.”
You couldn’t get rid of Jake if you tried.
—
Everyone in this part of the city knows three things for sure: winter never really ends at Mokdong collegiate rink, Friday nights are for Yonsei ice hockey, and cobalt blue is law.
You’re wearing Jake’s worn out leather bomber with #15 stitched proudly across its back, your brother’s original faded jersey snug underneath. It smells like the both of them, woody and sweet as you lean back with your shoes up on the seat in front of you. Gawon leans over you to clip your hair with barrettes of the team color, sitting back with a satisfied hum after brushing your hair back. Jungwon bounces his leg up and down nervously from next to you, keeping an eye on the clock as he waits restlessly for the game to start.
The three if you are in your university’s home rink, chalk full as people still trickle in from all sides, pouring down the stands and settling in just before the teams skate out. It’s a blue ocean, university students and parents alike filling the seats. Bleeding dots of red can be seen infiltrating the side across from you, donning opposing team jerseys and KU colors.
You’ve been here plenty of times, but the air feels different today. It’s electric and alive, an audible hum filling the space as remnants of chants echo around the rink.
You can’t help but be nervous for your brother who’s most likely the first in line waiting to come out of the player tunnel as team captain. You know firsthand how hard he worked to get to where he is today, and tonight, there will be international scouts in the audience looking for the next big names in ice hockey. Your brother is already a local hero in skates, but going pro would seal his professional career for him.
And of course, you can’t help but think of Jake, who’s probably second in line right behind Sunghoon as the center. You can sense his nerves already, the way he fiddles with his gear when he’s anxious and looks up to the heavens to remind himself of the things that keep him grounded. From years of following him and your brother around to their practices, you can bet with confidence that Jake has one hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder and the other on the cross around his neck right now. They’re the faces of the team, and that means the worries they carry can't show.
As much as hockey is pure athleticism and skill, it’s also a game of ego.
Playing a home game means the university’s pride is on the line, and the winner be damned if it isn’t them. You, Jungwon, and Gawon aren’t the only ones waiting in anticipation; much of the student body is also here, as well as half of the hearts of the city through live broadcasting.
You can pretend you’re not just another fan, hands wrapped around an overpriced paper cup of hot coffee, but the second #15 hits the ice, your pulse will match the drum of the crowd’s.
Gawon clenches your hand in anticipation as the lights of the arena start flashing, beams of blue and red circling the ice. The crowd erupts in animated cheers, Jungwon sliding to the edge of his seat so he can be closer to the plexiglass. The analog scoreboard resets with a click, displaying a blinking ‘00’ for both teams, and the large screens hanging from the ceiling of the rink switch to show the entrance of the player tunnel.
And then — in all their glory — there they are.
The notorious Yonsei men’s hockey team pours out of the tunnel with their easy grins and bright blue gear, skating a lap around the large rink before lining up across its expanse. You can’t help but let your mouth fall into a wordless “wow,” the view awing you no matter how many times you see it.
Your eyes naturally find Jake by habit, your breath catching as you spot him gliding to his spot just meters away from where you’re sitting.
He looks like a true celebrity from here, slipping his helmet off and ruffling the resulting wavy hair with a gloved hand. His skates skim the ice with quiet precision, cutting effortless lines across its surface. The cold makes his breath come out in pale clouds, but his face is composed with a kind of stillness that only comes from someone deeply comfortable in their body and their sport. His jersey hangs off his body prettily, stretching across broad shoulders that shift with every movement as he handles his hockey stick with years of experience, hand wound around the handle tightly.
Coming to a sharp hockey stop just short of the barrier, he sprays snow towards the reactive crowd before reaching down to wipe the excess off his blades. The metal and the white of his teeth glint under the fluorescent lights as he shoots the stands a charming smile, screams ringing out in immediate response.
It makes you feel faint in the head.
Shaking out his hair again, his eyes shine with determination as they rake over the seats. Pink dusts his nose and cheeks, stiff eyelashes a result of the arena’s chill. He finds your familiar face in the crowd easily and gives a small nod in acknowledgment, your friends waving back excitedly before you turn to Jungwon.
“I’m so fucked,” you whisper, forehead falling against his shoulder as he shakes with laughter.
You turn back to the ice as the opposing team skates out, Gawon hitting your leg repeatedly when she spots Heeseung in all his glory, his blinding smile easily recognizable through the grates of his helmet.
You don’t catch the way Jake looks down and tenses when Heeseung glances in your direction, throwing a smug look your way from across the arena, but Gawon sure does. She observes Jake quizzically, trying to figure him out from the stands like staring hard enough will make everything clear.
The striped refs throw up symbols with their hands as the lights dim, the sharp crack of sticks startling you as both teams hit the ice once in unison. Coaches and managers in suits stand off to the side of the penalty box, guiding most of the team as they skate over to the players’ bench.
The air tastes metallic as you snuggle into Jake’s jacket further, eyes following his figure as he moves towards the middle of the ice with Sunghoon flanking him. Their postures are relaxed but you can see how tightly they grip their hockey sticks, moving into the starting face-off position. The arena quiets down as the timer gets ready to drop, Heeseung and Jake turning to face each other as both of their teams’ respective centers.
The referee crouches low between the circles, puck balanced on his fingertips and breath fogging the air as steadily as the arena lights flicker overhead. His skates are planted wide, knees bent, eyes flicking back and forth between the two. Measuring. Waiting.
Jake positions himself tensely, blade angled, stick laid flat to the ice, and knuckles wrapped tight in black tape under his gloves. The position of his shoulders gives him away, coiled and predatory as Sunghoon backs him up from outside the circle. His visor catches the glare of the lights, briefly obscuring his eyes, but when he tips his chin down you could see them; sharp and unblinking, locked directly onto Heeseung across from him.
It’s a waiting game. For a beat, the rink feels impossibly quiet, like live wire. The crowd stills.
Jake doesn’t move, just lets a slow breath drift past his mouthguard, eyes never leaving his opponent’s face.
The referee’s hand hovers.
Then, in a flash, the puck drops between them, and the stillness is shattered into motion.
Heeseung is quick but Jake’s quicker, dashing out to shoot the puck to his teammate who appears in his peripheral. They pass it back and forth with practiced ease, moving down the rink towards the visiting team’s goal and attacking zone, slapshots echoing across the arena as it bounces off of the dasher boards.
The first point passes in a flash as the puck gets shot around the rink, Yonsei taking the lead within the first fifteen minutes.
Tension rises as KU scores a match point in the second period, the score tied neatly. An hour passes and neither team scores a second point in the third period, which means the game is launched into sudden-death overtime. The coach whistles, signaling a line change, and the crowd watches with tight suspense as Jake skates back onto the ice with a shout from the team manager. His finger subconsciously rubs over the tape on his stick that he redid in your room the day before.
You can hear Jungwon get serious from beside you, leaning back with a steep inhale.
“He better not mess this up,” he mutters under his breath. You turn to him, tilting your head. “ALIH scouts,” he explains, pointing across the rink to a group of people you had missed, their clipboards and sharp suits a stark contrast to those around them. “They’re watching.”
With a bated breath, the puck drops for the last time, and Jake chases it like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. Blue jerseys swarm into the opposing defense zone as he skids behind the goal and straight towards it.
What he doesn’t account for, however, is a figure who comes in hot from the opposite side. Heeseung barrels towards the edge of the rink, colliding straight into Jake as they both slam against the barrier in front of you. The whole thing rattles, a whistle slicing through the rink as he tries to shove the opposing center away to go after the puck.
The snow of ice spray is still glittering in the lights when the crowd erupts. The row of people in front of you bang on the plexiglass, egging on a potential fight like they always do in hockey culture. It’s something you’ve never gotten used to, but never have you seen Jake at the center of it. He’s always prided himself in keeping his anger in check, so when he turns around to bodycheck Heeseung, your friends look at each other in shock. You see your brother ready to interfere on the ice, pushing his visor up.
You don’t even have time to register what’s happening before you see a glove come off, hard fist against hard chest as their skates dig into the ice with fervor. You don’t see whose it is, just that Jake’s got a mean snarl on his face that he rarely shows.
The puck skids uselessly away as the game comes to a pause, teammates hovering nearby as the refs standby, not a single person interfering just yet. It’s rooted in the sport’s culture to let fights play out, which renders you speechless as you watch Jake get aggressively pushed down onto the ice. You let out a worried sound as you jump up, straining to see what’s happening.
“What the hell is your problem?” Heeseung grits out, teeth bared through a mouthguard. Jake doesn’t answer, jumping right back up to shove him back into the plexiglass in uncontrolled anger. The impact makes the sound rattle up into the rafters, jolting the crowd as they leer in excitement. The people around you lean forward as one, the noise swelling into something feral and hungry.
“Holy shit,” Jungwon exclaims, grabbing your arm. “Get him, Jake!”
“Jungwon what—” you exclaim back, looking around wildly in worry. “Oh my God, guys, he’s bleeding.”
A punch lands fast, from Heeseung this time. It’s violent and cracks against hard plastic as Jake’s head is snapped sideways, silent fury locked behind his eyes.
“Look at me,” he hisses, grabbing Jake’s jersey and yanking him close. “You don’t do that to me. Ever.”
The refs rush in then, bodies wedging between them and arms locked around waists to pull them apart. Jake brushes them off, skating off himself with undeniable rage in his clenched jaw and stormy eyes. You can see the red already blooming from behind the grating of his helmet, lip most likely nicked in the short brawl.
From the stands, all you can hear is your own heartbeat pounding in your ears as you sit back down in your seat with wide eyes. The crowd is still jittery from the fight, the air buzzing with chatter.
The two of them are dragged to opposite penalty boxes, separated by a strip of frozen blue. Even just sitting there, breaths ragged and cheeks’ split, they stare each other down.
The crowd roars as the game plays on, but your eyes are locked on Jake and his defeated figure. He’s slumped on the bench unmoving, eyes closed and head against the plastic board behind him. He breathes slowly now, chest rising in controlled increments as the match comes to an end with a draw.
It’s over.
They tied.
Somewhere in the noise, he looks up and finds your eyes in the mass of people. He holds your gaze for a moment before furrowing his eyebrows and dropping his head down.
It feels like you don’t move for a long time until Gawon jostles you, a hand on your shoulder as Jungwon stands up with a stretch.
“I can’t believe he actually did that,” he chatters excitedly, hands waving around. “I’ve literally never seen Jake fight like that before. That was so hot, right Y/N-ie,” he adds with a smug grin pointed at you. You’re still at a loss for words, unable to tear your eyes away from Jake’s form.
Gawon shushes Jungwon before shooting you a concerned look.
“We’re gonna go meet Sunghoon out back, maybe head to the bar. Are you gonna… do you wanna stay and wait for Jake?”
You feel your head nod, not even hearing yourself as you tell them to go ahead without you. All you can see is him, and the way that he doesn’t even seem to know that he’s bleeding as he sits on the bench alone. Sunghoon whispers something to him before heading to the locker room himself.
You sit with your knees up in your seat as the arena clears out, the few people lingering behind the ice paying him no mind. The lights have faded, the scoreboard shut off for the night. It’s a complete 180 from just twenty minutes ago when the game was at its height. You feel like you’re watching Jake quietly lose his mind, his eyes blank as he touches his lip with his fingers. They pull away bloody, but he doesn’t even flinch.
The only people left are some helpers shoveling away the excess snow off the ice, so you decide to get up and make your way towards Jake. The familiar chill of the rink seeps into your bones as you wrap his jacket around you tighter, coming to a stop next to the penalty box he’s trapped himself in.
Knocking on the glass once, you lean down to catch his attention.
“...Jake?” You call, offering what you hope is a comforting smile, even when your heart breaks at the sight of his bruised mouth and torn knuckles. “I’ll drive you home. C’mon.”
He finally lifts his head at your voice to look at you, eyes softening as they catch you in his jersey number.
He nods slowly, letting you pull him out of his confinement and back onto solid ground, the added height from the blades of his skates making him tower over you as you lead him out of the rink.
—
You can never tell what he’s thinking, Jake’s normally clear eyes thick with something heavy that you can’t quite place.
Neither of you have said a word since getting to his and Sunghoon’s shared apartment, the latter most likely getting black out drunk at this very moment. The silence is new to you, especially when you’re used to your brother filling it with his outloud-thoughts at every waking moment. You appreciate the fact that he’s not here to ruin this moment though, especially when you’re currently closer to Jake than you’ve ever been.
You’re standing snug between his legs as he sits sprawled on the living room couch, bending down so that you can gently apply ointment on his lips without it getting everywhere. One hand cradles his jaw while the other brushes the medicine on, his sharp intakes of air letting you know that it stings more than he lets on. He’s close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your face, his eyelashes fluttering close with a grimace when you brush on another layer. His hands settle naturally on your hips — more so to keep him grounded than anything — his grip tight as you wipe away dried blood from his skin.
You chew mindlessly on your bottom lip in concentration, not even noticing until Jake reaches up to pull it from your teeth. His voice is hoarse as he speaks for the first time tonight.
“Stop that,” he breaks the silence to scold you lightly, hand dropping back down when you still. “The skin will tear.”
“And look who’s talking,” you frown back, brushing a finger over the blooming bruise at the corner of his mouth. Even as pain flickers across his face, his gaze never drifts. He studies you from below, lids lowered, the heaviness in his eyes betraying how exhausted he really is.
His lips fall into a natural pout as you busy your hands, searching aimlessly for bandages on the coffee table behind you just to keep yourself from saying something you don’t mean. He’s so beautiful looking up at you like this, but thinking about his injuries and what caused them confuses you.
Your hands subconsciously tremble as you rip open the pack of bandages, Jake’s eyes on you as he leans back on the couch, legs spread wide.
Hesitating, you ask the question that’s been running laps in your mind all evening.
“Why did you do that? I’ve never seen you like that on the ice before,” you end up rambling, not accusing, just curious.
Jake stills.
“...are you mad at me?”
“Why would I be mad at you?” you muse, careful fingers gently lifting his right hand into yours. His fingers curl into your palm naturally, letting you brush over his knuckles before you begin to wrap gauze over them. His features soften as he observes the way you hold up his hand to inspect it for any missed injuries.
“I don’t know,” he admits, brows knit together in a shallow furrow.
You pause, dropping his hand before sighing.
“I was just worried, Jake.”
He lets a few moments pass before looking back up at you.
“Why were you worried?” He seems to hesitate before he whispers, as if fishing for a specific answer.
You say nothing, not sure if you can admit to him just yet why you care so much. You can’t even admit it fully to yourself. Biting your lip from saying something stupid in the heat of the moment, you toss the extra gauze behind you before sliding down onto the couch next to him.
He scans you for a moment. Realizing you’re not going to answer him, he reaches for a small metal tin on the table with shaky hands. He doesn’t prod further.
You can tell — through all these years of knowing him — when he begins to sink into one of his moods, the ones that make him turn to his vices to cope. It’s the way his eyes gloss over, unfocused as his mind drifts elsewhere. You saw it plenty when you were both eighteen and stupid, deep in the alley behind your local karaoke bar sharing a cig when the pressure of parents, school, and expectations got too much.
“You know, you’ve always been too good to me,” he mutters, voice low as he rolls a King Palm onto his open hand. Out of pure muscle memory, he sifts sativa in a line along his palm before packing it into a blunt. “...want a hit?” he whispers, almost like he’s ashamed of asking you to indulge in something that’s supposed to be his bad habit.
You’d usually chastise him lightly for smoking as an athlete, but you can tell he needs it tonight, the dimness in his eyes concerning you.
You hesitate before nodding slightly, eyes in a trance as they follow his nimble fingers. You can physically feel your resolve crumble when he brings the cone to his lips, tongue darting out to slowly wet the edge of the rolling paper.
It takes everything in you to look away, hands furling and unfurling in your lap.
“I’m good to you because you deserve it, Jake. And don’t get used to this,” you admit, tucking your legs underneath you. You pause with a blink before admitting, “I’m only saying yes because it’s you.”
He swallows hard at your words, tension leaving his shoulders as he watches you. It’s as if he can see right through you, see your walls slowly crumble.
Holding a lighter up to his face, he lights the blunt with a sharp click before taking a deep drag, letting the warmth take over his body before blowing the smoke away from you. Color rises back into his cheeks as he holds it out for you to take.
It’s been a while.
He must see the hesitation in your face because he pulls away suddenly, tilting his head like a puppy. His usual easy confidence seems to flicker.
“Would it be better if… is it easier for you if I shotgun it?” He barely gets the words out without a stutter, eyes averting as your face burns at his suggestion. “To get a smoother high, maybe…” he tacks on with a mumble, like it changes anything he just said.
You stare back at him with wide eyes, mouth parting before slowly nodding.
“Maybe,” you peek at him before repeating yourself in a whisper. “I’d- I’d like that.”
His throat bobs like he’s holding himself back before scooting himself closer and bringing his hand up slowly to your face. You can sense his hesitancy, the way there’s a slight tremor in the movement.
Your lungs stop working as his skin touches yours, fingers warm as they cup the side of your face gently.
Both of you seem to pause, faces so close that you can see the way the space between his eyebrows creases, full lips just centimeters away from yours. The air feels warm and charged, your skin buzzing as he shifts to pull you in closer by the thigh. Strands of his wavy hair brush your forehead.
He braces an arm against the couch cushion before taking a long drag, eyelashes fluttering as he pauses before you. His eyes look different, like he’s fighting both something inwardly and the pull of the moment. They lower, betraying, and flicker to your mouth, lips pressed flat.
“Are you okay?” He asks so quietly that you almost don’t catch it, careful not to let any smoke out.
It only takes one nod from you before he leans forward in the slightest, coaxing your mouth open with his thumb before breathing out, letting it permeate your mouth.
“Breathe,” he talks you through it, letting his palm rest against your chest as it rises to feel the large inhale you take. “Let it go all the way.”
The smoke burns as it goes down, resulting in you coughing lightly as Jake moves to rub smooth circles into your back. His other hand falls from your jaw to your knee, bracing himself before taking another hit and letting the smoke curl its way up the ceiling. The smell clouds your senses, making your vision hazy as you let yourself relax into his side naturally.
His arm tightens around your back, a small smile making its way up his face — as if he can feel your eyes on him — as he continues to take long, sharp inhales. The tips of his finger drum against your waist for a moment before they tighten to pull you closer into him.
“Again?”
“Mm,” you mumble in a daze, looking up with sparkling, wide eyes that take every last bit of his resolve. “Feels good.”
You don’t really know how you ended up in this position, with your body half in his arms, but you don’t complain. He doesn’t either.
Resting your head against his shoulder, he tilts your head back up to meet him halfway. He brushes your hair out of your face and behind your ear slowly, looking intently between your eyes before leaning down and blowing another bout of smoke into your mouth.
This time, your lips touch just a hair, his breath hot on yours. You jolt slightly.
Neither of you move away, scared to cross a line that’s been drawn since the first time you met him.
He lets you inhale the smoke fully before starting to pull away.
Your hand comes up ever so slowly, shaking slightly, until your fingers make contact with his face. The space between his brows pinches when your thumb presses near the bruise on his mouth, then slowly smooths when he meets your eyes again.
Jake finds himself naturally leaning into your touch, a glimpse of his dimple appearing as his bottom lip gets caught between his teeth.
And when you see that, you decide you can’t take it any more.
You’ve waited long enough.
You’re done being scared of consequences.
Threading a hand through his hair, you pull him down gently until his lips fully touch yours.
And then you’re kissing Sim Jaeyun. Your brother’s best friend. One of your best friends. And you don’t care, because this is the moment you’ve wanted more than anything, ever.
And then he’s kissing you back.
Jake doesn’t pull away like the fear in the back of your head thought he might.
It starts off sweet and short, chaste until he deepens the kiss slightly. After a few seconds, his eyes glaze over as he sits back to admire the way your lips glisten.
A charged moment passes before his gaze turns dark, leaning in and invading your space once again. He captures your mouth even more intensely as he reaches out to cradle the back of your head, blunt forgotten to the side on an ash tray. His lips mold around yours, the pace escalating quickly like he’s been waiting for this moment just as much as you have. You can taste it on him, the bitter dregs of the sativa mixing into your saliva.
His tongue darts out to drag against yours, taking advantage of your little gasps to deepen the kiss. Letting you melt into him, he nips and tugs at your lip gently with his teeth before licking it better. It’s hot and bothered and strained, and you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to let go after getting him like this. He unabashedly moans straight into your mouth, the sound shooting straight to your core as you whine against him.
“Jake—” you gasp into his mouth, hand on his chest to slow him down.
He brushes your hand away, pulling you onto his lap so you can sit with your thighs around his waist — all without disconnecting his mouth from yours. Tilting his head, he lets your hands roam across the expanse of his chest before threading themselves back in his hair with a tug.
“Shit— Y/N,” he barely gets out, lips on yours again. “Keep doing that, baby.”
You can barely keep up with his pace, overcome with white hot pleasure that renders you momentarily incapable of thinking about anything else. You let out another gasp at hearing the way he calls you ‘baby,’ the name so unfamiliar to you that you almost feel tears sting the back of your eyes. It feels so right hearing them fall from his mouth.
Dropping your head into his neck, you lick a stripe up to his jaw and press wet kisses over his bruises. His hips immediately jerk in reaction, hands squeezing your waist as his head falls back over the edge of the couch. You’re in the middle of sucking a hickey into the skin next to the bulge of Adam's apple when he starts rambling, hand sneaking up under your tank to press against your stomach.
“Sweet, sweet girl,” he starts, taking a breath and moaning out loud when he sees the string of saliva that connects where your mouths part. “I’ve wanted this for so long, you don’t even know.”
“Jakey,” you mumble into his skin, voice breaking when his hand wanders up to cup you through your bra. Jake’s at war with himself, but he can’t fight desire, especially not when he can feel you shiver against him like you’ve never trusted someone more.
“Fuck, say that again f’me,” he curses before dragging your shirt up your stomach with his teeth, dipping just below to press kisses just below your chest with fervor. His nose presses against your skin as he inhales, mumbling about how he feels like he could stay in this position forever.
“Jakey please,” you whine, needy hands reaching out so that Jake can pull you to him again. “Need you. Bad.”
He complies happily, groaning at the way you fit perfectly in his hands.
At some point, the pleasure gets too much and you find yourself rocking into him, head tucked into his neck as he sings praises into your ear.
“Shit baby, c’mere,” his hands can’t seem to keep still, dragging down your back to your thighs and back up to your face. “Take what you need from me.”
Your face burns as you lay the side of your face against his chest, his hand guiding your hips right against the bulge growing in his sweats. The other holds your head to him, making sure you’re comfortable before matching the pace of your rocking.
“I’m all yours,” he whispers down at you, smiling when you cry out his name in response.
Your stomach seizes when you feel his hand start to creep under the waistband of your sweats, playing with the string before dipping under the elastic of your panties. You’re pressed flat against him, and feeling his arm creep against your stomach makes you feel things no man has made you feel before.
“Is this… is this okay?” He hesitates, pausing as he watches you carefully.
You nod against his chest rapidly, shutting your eyes when his pointer and middle finger finally push against your heat. You’re embarrassingly wet, the sound clearly audible as he begins to move.
“Oh baby,” he coos, resting his chin on top of your head as he starts to move his hand back and forth slowly, coating himself in your juices. “Someone’s needy, mm? Can’t believe you were hiding this from me…” he trails off, biting his lip.
You fail to hold back a moan, muffling yourself with his shirt and biting the fabric between your teeth. Jake chuckles as he feels the fabric get wet against his chest from your saliva, gently pulling it from you. Tears prick against your waterline at the pleasure.
“Let me hear you fall apart, baby.”
You shake your head against him, babbling nonsense as his fingers get quicker, rolling your sensitive bud between his fingers before dipping into you. It feels like all the times you’ve pleasured yourself thinking of him mean nothing — the real thing isn’t even close to being compared. It’s ecstasy that you’ve never felt before, the second-hand high from earlier hitting you fully now. White appears at the edge of your vision, your breath catching as you fall against Jake.
The second he feels your thighs start to tremble around him, the pleasure in the pit of your stomach starting to build, he pushes two fingers into you slowly, spongy walls swallowing them right up. He sets a rhythm, coaxing you to ride his fingers while he kisses along the crown of your head.
“There you go,” he whispers. “Just like that. Made for me, aren’t you?”
His fingers are cold as they curl inside of you, hitting that spot deep in you that you’ve never been able to reach yourself.
Jake’s jaw clenches as he watches you fall apart on his fingers, the sight of you coming undone unlike anything he’s ever seen before. His erection is almost painful at this point, and if you keep making those noises, he knows he’ll be ruining his pants in no time.
Your hips jerk, movements uncontrolled as the pleasure inside you builds quickly. You know you’re close when he drags his thumb against your puffy clit, pressing down before drawing shallow circles around it.
“Come on, baby. Let go for me.”
You shudder at his tone that’s dropped an octave lower, an obvious rasp in his voice from all the overstimulation. His fingers are coated in you, your saliva still on his skin. The pace of his fingers double, helping you chase your release as he leans down to press a messy kiss to your lips.
It’s finally when he thrusts up against the fabric of your pants that you shatter, coming apart with a broken moan as you bite his shoulder. Jake rocks you through it, helping you ride out your high with his fingers still inside of you. He doesn’t stop, continuing to push in and out until you push against his hand in protest.
“Jake,” you whine out, unable to say anything except his name as you slow your movements. His fingers slowly slip out of you, completely soaked before he brings them up to his mouth. His eyes burn into yours as he licks them clean, tongue circling around them before pushing against his tongue with a smile. You almost climax again at the sight, cheeks burning as you watch him hum around his own fingers.
“You were so good for me,” he praises.
You look down in embarrassment, not getting very far before he’s capturing your mouth in a searing kiss once again. You taste yourself on him this time, eyebrows furrowing at the taste of cum and weed.
Jake doesn’t give you even a second to think before he’s pulling away again, adjusting himself in his sweats. You shift your hips to reveal a dark stain on the front of his grey sweats, gaping in awe when you realize that he came from the mere act of getting you off. Your movements had dragged his pants halfway down his hips, the band of his boxers completely out as he makes no move to fix them. He lifts his hips, manhandling you to sit almost against his stomach as he settles back into the couch, breathing heavily.
“Did you…?” you start, staring at the space when your bodies connect.
Jake turns his head to the side, the tips of his ears reddening.
“You did this to me,” he says with a pout, dragging a finger through the wetness that’s both a mix of yours and his. Poking his tongue into his cheek in mock annoyance, he squints up at you. “Little minx.”
You hover, letting your hand drag slowly over his bulge and down his leg as he hisses at the feeling.
His jaw drops when you slide to the ground before him, knees hitting the ground between his open legs. Looking up at him with innocent, blinking eyes, you tilt your head before tossing your hair to one side and getting comfy with your arms in his lap.
Jake thinks he can cum from the view alone, that pretty mouth pouting at him as you paw at his sweats. You pull at the strings, focused. His head swirls with warning sirens, closing his eyes as he thinks about all the things you’ve already done and what would happen if he took it further.
Would Sunghoon murder him in cold blood? Probably.
You make noises of protest from the back of your throat when Jake gently takes both of your hands in his, pulling you up until he can press his nose against yours. You can see the internal conflict in his gaze, guilt flickering through him as he looks from your messy hair to your swollen lips.
“Want you in me…” you start, clumsily trying to pull out of his hold before falling forward as he tugs you into him.
Smoothing a hand over your hair, he shakes his head before wrapping his arms around you.
“Not today, baby.”
You frown, suddenly overly conscious of everything. The way the strap of your tank is halfway down your shoulder, the way Jake’s still out of breath, the way you almost just went all the way with him. You seem to shrink, shifting out of his hold to sit back on your heels. The heat drains from your face, hands suddenly cold as you fold them together.
“Why? You don’t want me…?” You say quietly, almost like you don’t want him to hear you. Your heart drops, and it doesn’t help that he stays silent as your mind runs through all of the possibilities as to why. Does he regret it? Already?
…maybe his friendship with my brother is more important than this.
“What? No— what, that’s not—” he splutters, bewildered at the way you start to pull away. He can feel his chest stop as he watches your face fall, starting to turn away from him before he desperately reaches out to have you close again.
“Y/N, listen to me,” he says firmly, heart aching when you look back at him with confused eyes. “Listen to me before you jump to any conclusions. I know that head of yours.”
Your throat tightens, lashes lowered.
“There’s nothing I want more than you. All I’ve ever wanted is you, actually.”
Your mouth parts, surprised at the sincerity in his voice as he clasps your hands with a film shake. He sounds firm and sure, gaze determined as he confesses. He looks to the side, pausing.
“I hate that you’re doubting yourself because of me. And I know I’ve been terrible at showing it, my feelings towards— towards you. I know I’ve fumbled maybe a thousand times at telling you how much you mean to me, especially considering our friendship and your brother and our friends and all that— but I want this to be real, and I don’t want you to think this is just a heat of the moment thing. You mean much more to me than just this… and you deserve a love that’s patient,” Jake stares at you, the one that you only see when he feels like he’s won something worth fighting for.
“I want to stop running away from my feelings, and I’m so sorry I let my fear get in the way of telling you this earlier. Can’t stop thinking about the time we could’ve had together if I just told you how I felt,” he shakes his head, a bittersweet taste on his tongue. “I’m sorry that you had to be the one to initiate something for me to be honest with you. I want to take it slowly with you, if you’d let me—”
“Jake—” you interrupt his chain of thoughts, putting a hand on his knee.
“—and instead of telling you, I would get jealous on my own and do stupid things like bodycheck Heeseung—like fuck, why did I even do that? Now he probably hates me too, oh god—”
“Jaeyun,” you say firmly, cupping your hand over his mouth to shut him up. He stares at you at the abruptness, lips twitching against your palm.
“Where did that come from?” You say softly, unable to hide your grin as giddiness overtakes you. “I— I’ve been the same way, silly. We’ve both been stupid.” You rest your chin on his knee, peering up at him. “Don’t apologize.”
His whole body seems to release all the tension that’s been building up, fingers carefully brushing the hair out of your face.
“God, how did I get this lucky,” he sighs out, throwing an arm over his forehead at your cute expression.
You giggle, overcome with the fact that Jake likes you. Jake likes you too.
“So you like me, huh,” you tease, scooting forward. Moonlight bounces off the side of your face as you shift, every tiny sound amplified: the wind rattling against the windows, the hum of the fridge, the soft shift of fabric when Jake leans forward. You can still feel where his hand had been on your waist, the ghost of his thumb at your jaw.
“Shut up,” he mumbles with a bashful smile, slightly mortified at how intently you’re looking at him. “Yeah. Badly.”
“And you want me— mmph!” you exclaim in surprise when Jake hooks his arm around your waist, his biceps flexing against you as he pulls you back into his lap. He spreads out on the couch, letting you curl comfortably in his chest with your face buried in his neck. The scent of cedar and bergamot orange clouds you, snuggling into him as he chuckles.
“Hm? What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s what I thought, baby.”
You’re squirming in his arms, trying to get away from his wandering hands when the front door clicks open with a beep. You jump, flinching as it creaks open. Jake doesn’t seem surprised. A head peeks through the crack before rolling his eyes at the scene before him.
“Get out of my apartment,” Sunghoon deadpans, kicking off his shoes, shimmying off his jacket and throwing it at the two of you. It hits you in the leg before falling to the ground. Tossing his keys and wallet onto the kitchen island, he grabs an apple off the counter before taking a bite and leaning his weight against it. Raising an eyebrow, he eyes the two of you.
You blink at him nervously, staring off into space somewhere between his shoulder and his wall. You hope Jake says something, because you sure aren’t. What if he gets mad? What if he hates this? What if—
Your brother must see the look on your face because he sighs, putting his apple down before gesturing vaguely at you.
“Don’t look at me like that, Rockstar,” he snorts, pointing at Jake. “Bro’s been pining after you since we were like ten. This,” he looks pointedly between you and his best friend, “was gonna happen at some point.”
You whirl around to look at Jake, a dusty rose spreading over his cheeks as he glares at your brother.
“Really?” You ask in wonder, ignoring the sound of Sunghoon’s fake retching behind you.
“God, I hate love,” he continues in the background, fully ignored by you and Jake as the latter stammers his words at your attention.
“Yeah, our friends always say that I’m painfully obvious,” Jake confesses quietly, thumb rubbing circles against your leg.
“But… but what about earlier today?” You hesitate to ask, turning back to Sunghoon who’s now spinning himself around on a bar stool. “The girl from your stats class?”
“What?” your brother says absentmindedly, spinning himself once more before stopping with a snap. “Ohh, the girl from stats!”
“There was no girl… I— I wanted to make you jealous. It was so stupid,” Jake admits, his face heating up even more as Sunghoon bursts out into laughter behind you.
“Actually,” your brother starts, a smirk spreading across his face as he takes another bite of his apple. “She’s very real. And she also just sucked me off in the bathroom of the bar I came from, sooo,” he trails off, “I think the real winner tonight is me.”
“Holy TMI, dude,” Jake complains from under you, the timbre of his voice humming against your side. He covers your ears from Sunghoon’s crass mouth as you make a face at your brother, his laugh reaching you even with Jake’s hands protecting you.
“Anyway,” Sunghoon swings his legs off the stool, grabbing his phone before sneakily taking a picture of the two of you snuggled together on the couch. “Imma send this to Jungwon so he can stop blowing me up on Kakao. He’s been waiting for this since our first year, probably.”
You just sigh contently, happily pushing yourself into the warmth of Jake’s chest and relieved that you don’t have to hide your feelings anymore. The softness of his arms around you are no longer a daydream. The world shrinks to just this, the smell of him, the heat of his skin seeping through the fabric of his old hockey tee, the gentle press of his chin near your temple. His embrace is possessive and reverent, like you’re the most precious thing to him.
Your own breath finally slows.
For so long you’d been orbiting him — watching from across rooms, stealing glances, cataloging every laugh and look — and now, wrapped in his arms, that ache resolves into something quiet and full. You feel small in the best way, tucked against him, fitting into the hollow of his body. His hand moves absentmindedly along your side, curling into your skin and reminding you that this is very real.
There’s no more guilt humming at the edges of the moment, the pressures of facing your brother or telling your friends gone.
You finally have him.
“So sorry to interrupt,” Sunghoon’s voice bursts the moment, popping up in front of you with an exaggerated smile. “Love that this is happening. Super cute. Mom and dad will be thrilled, I bet.” He pauses, biting his pointer finger between his teeth before looking at the two of you with a pointed stare. “If you have sex on my couch though, different story. I’m shooting everyone in this room and then myself. Thanks.”
You gape at him as Jake mutters a smug “can’t promise I won’t try” from behind you, earning a hard smack on the arm.
“Joking, I’m joking, holy shit,” he chokes out, dodging to the side with you in his arms as your brother tries to land another hit.
“You better be,” he says, eyes snapping down to the wet patch on the crotch of Jake’s pants. “‘Cuz that’s fucking nasty, man. I should’ve let Heeseung knock some sense into you while we were still on the ice.”
You groan in mortification, burying your face deeper into his chest like you could disappear into the fabric of his shirt. From above you, Jake lets out a low, amused breath, his arms tightening instinctively around you as you hide. You can feel his chest shake beneath your cheek as he looks up.
You let out a muffled whine against him.
Jake, infuriatingly, only smirks, chin resting lightly atop your head. “You only said she was off-limits, not the couch.”
“Jaeyun,” your brother warns, raising a hand at him.
“Okay, okay,” Jake chuckles, finally easing back just enough that you can peek out from behind him, cheeks burning.
Your brother’s expression softens when he sees your face. You’re mortified and flustered, but still fully in Jake’s arms.
He exhales. “You’re lucky I trust you more than any guy at this goddamn university.”
Jake’s laugh follows him down the hall, and his arms don’t loosen. If anything, he pulls you in a little closer. Not for show, but because he needs it.
“I know,” he looks down at you, determined.
“And for what it’s worth,” Sunghoon adds with a wicked smile, already turning toward his bedroom, “if you make her cry, you’re benched for the season, Sim.”
END.
—
NOTE. thank you for reading this very self-indulgent fic ❤︎ I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. pls leave any and all feedback, it always makes my day and helps improve my writing so so much!
this was all solely fueled by my first college hockey game of the semester. ts was lit asf, i was so into it that i literally lost my voice the next day LMFAO
[ i thought i'd share a small clip from the game, esp because of how much of this fic was inspired by the strong hockey culture where i grew up. for your viewing pleasure HAHA ]
synopsis: in which jake sim finally stops letting you run the show—only to prove he’s always known how to handle you.
genre: childhood best friends au
pairing: childhood best friend!jake x bratty!reader
warnings: softdom!jake, bratty!reader, reader is so annoying but jake loves it, cornering, bantering, jake scolds reader often, jake is in loveeee, manhandling, spanking ass + pussy, oral (f.rec), spit play, tit play, unprotected p in v, clit play, biting..i think that’s it??
wc: 16.5k+
a/n: ayeee guess who’s back! this fic won on the poll so here i am delivering. this is also my 3k followers thank you post hehe!! thanks to each and every one of you guys that have been reading and supporting my work 😘 keep an eye out i’ll be putting out another pole soon. as always comments, notes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy reading :3
𓂃
you and jake sim grew up three houses apart on a street where everybody's moms knew everything and everybody's dads pretended they didn't. you were the loud one—the kid who rang doorbells like you were collecting taxes, who demanded attention with the confidence of someone who'd never been told no.
which you hadn't.
meanwhile jake... poor jake. he was the sweet, soft-spoken boy who trailed after you like a golden retriever with a bowl cut and velcro spiderman sneakers. he always had crumbs on his face, always carried your backpack without being asked, and always—always—laughed at your jokes, even when they weren't funny.
they were rarely funny.
you'd yell his name across the street, and he'd come running. you'd shove the glittery lip gloss you stole from your cousin into his hand and say "hold this," and he would. you'd call him "my assistant" during your bossy childhood games, and he accepted the demotion.
once, you made him cry because he didn't run fast enough during tag. you didn't apologize—instead you loudly declared, "omg, relax, you got tagged ONCE. big deal."
jake sniffled, you stomped away. and five minutes later he followed you again, because that's just how he was.
but somewhere around the end of high school, the world started pulling you in different directions. you were busy being dramatic, discovering tinted lip oils, complaining about your parents rules, and posting instagram stories from the passenger seat of other people's cars.
jake was busy doing things like... assignments. group projects. extracurriculars. things you mockingly called "nerd behavior."
he didn't go out much. he didn't chase chaos. he didn't orbit your life the way he did when you were younger. and you—in a classic act of emotional immaturity—pretended not to care.
at eighteen, you chose a college far away purely because the campus looked "aesthetic in fall," packed up your entire personality into two suitcases, and left without saying a proper goodbye. you waved at jake from the car window as your mom pulled out of the driveway and yelled something ridiculous like:
"don't let anyone bully you except me!"
he laughed. that soft, warm, dimpled laugh that used to follow you everywhere.
and then you were gone.
𓂃
college turned you into an even worse version of yourself—aggressively iced-coffee-dependent, chronically late, allergic to responsibility, and thriving in an environment where chaos was practically currency.
your life became a rotation of parties, spontaneous shopping, soft-launching people you weren't even dating, and pretending every bad decision was "character development."
you went through roommates like seasonal flavors. every semester someone new moved in, and every semester someone new moved out with a complaint that you were "a lot" or "messy" or "kind of terrifying when woken up."
you didn't disagree.
jake became a distant memory, the boy who sometimes liked your posts from an account with a profile picture you swear was five years old. you'd smile for half a second when his username popped up, then go right back to ignoring three overdue essays and online shopping for shoes you absolutely didn't need.
your worlds didn't touch anymore.
until life, rude as always, decided to intervene
it started with your roommate announcing she was "basically moving in" her new boyfriend. you thought she meant he'd be around more. no, he was actually moving in. toothbrush, clothes, gaming chair, ugly LED lights—the whole infestation.
he hogged the bathroom. he cooked shirtless at inappropriate hours. he once ate your leftover pasta and shrugged, "it was mid anyway."
you saw red. you didn't commit a crime, but it was close.
you decided to move out.
your landlord, a man whose personality could best be described as "human expired raisin," decided this was the perfect time to raise your rent by five hundred dollars.
you stared at the email. then you screamed. not a cute scream—a guttural, operatic wail that made the downstairs neighbor bang on their ceiling.
you called your mom, pacing through the disaster zone that was your half-packed room.
"i'm going to die," you said dramatically. "i'm literally going to die. you're going to have to identify my body by my lash extensions."
your mom sighed the sigh of someone who'd raised you for twenty-three years. "sweetheart, calm down—"
"don't tell me to calm down, my life is in ruins. ruins, mother."
"you're not in ruins."
"i'm going to be homeless."
"you're not going to be homeless."
"i'm going to have to live in my car—"
"oh honey," she cut in, "why don't you stay with jake?"
you froze mid-rant. "...jake?" his name unfamiliar on your tongue.
"yes! jake sim! he's back from finishing his degree. he bought a nice apartment downtown. he told his mother he has a spare room."
you stared into space, horrified. "jake sim? bowl-cut jake? used-to-cry-when-i-yelled jake?"
"he didn't cry," she corrected. "he teared up. once."
"mom. be serious."
"i am. you two were inseparable."
"when we were twelve!"
"well, he's always liked you."
"as a person?" you asked skeptically. you seriously doubted that anyone who was sane liked you as a person. yes, you're a lot of things but one thing you definitely are is self aware.
she made a vague noise, you didn't like the noise.
"i'll text his mother," she decided, and you instantly regretted calling her.
two minutes later, your phone buzzed.
mom: jake says you're welcome to stay anytime.
you stared at the text. it felt unreal. absurd. borderline comedic.
but you were desperate. and dramatic. and the universe clearly hated you.
so you said yes. because of course you did.
you packed your things with the confidence of someone who absolutely believed jake sim was still the same soft, shy, easily-managed boy who used to trail after you in elementary school.
you were so, so sure.
and you were so, so wrong.
𓂃
you hype yourself up in the elevator.
it's just jake.you think to yourself, the image of 12-year old him fresh in your mind.
you've known him your whole life. he once cried because you told him clouds were solid and he fell off the playground trying to "sit on one."
you are not nervous. you are annoyed.
annoyed that your lease fell apart. annoyed that your mother thinks you're still friends. annoyed that jake, sweet, soft, bowl-cut jake, is your only housing option unless you want to sleep in your car.
the elevator dings.
you're ready to see scented-candle bachelor hell. dirty laundry. possibly raccoons.
you knock and the door swings open. and your soul leaves your body.
because the man standing there is definitely jake—but upgraded. taller, broader, stupidly handsome, and sporting a smile that used to be pure golden retriever sunshine. except now it's... toned down. slower. like he knows exactly what it does to people.
"hey," he says, his eyes dropping down to take in your form and your hot pink suitcases. "come in."
come in? come in? no shocked gasp? no "wow you're back"? no nervous babbling?
you narrow your eyes suspiciously. "wow. no bowl cut." you admit, not the best choice of first words to say to your childhood best friend who you hadn't seen in years. but it was fitting.
he laughs—actually laughs—and steps aside. and you walk into the biggest personal betrayal of your adult life.
his apartment is spotless.
not "i cleaned because company is coming" clean.
"i am a fully functioning adult who alphabetizes spices" clean.
the air smells like sandalwood and laundry detergent. plants sit by the window like they've never known suffering. there are no pizza boxes, no dirty plates, no gamer chair.
this is not jake's apartment.
"is this staged?" you demand. "did someone professionally sanitize this because you knew i was coming?"
"nope," he says, grabbing one of your suitcases. "i live like this."
you blink owlishly. "on purpose?"
he snorts, looking at you with an unidentifiable expression on his face. "on purpose."
you want to throw something, no, you want to throw up.
but instead, you drop your bag on the couch like an entitled raccoon and flop dramatically across it. "i'm making myself at home."
he glances at your shoes on the carpet. "i can see that."
he takes a seat in the armchair across from you— calm, collected, not even a little frazzled— which is insane, because you're very clearly being a handful on purpose. you call that, asserting dominance. like the old days.
you clear your throat. "so. rules. house agreements. i assume you're gonna ask me to clean something? or, like... wash a dish? or close a cabinet? if so, i'll need written notice."
jake smiles. not the "aww she's being annoying again" smile you expect. no, this one is deeper. amused. knowing.
"sure," he says easily. "we can talk rules."
that throws you off. he's supposed to be flustered, scrambling to keep up. not leading the conversation like he owns the apartment—which, annoying fact, he does.
he leans back, forearms resting casually on his knees. your eyes almost pop out of their sockets when you notice how veiny his hands and arms were.
"okay," he starts, "rent is six-fifty a month. i already talked to your mom about it—she said she'd help out until you get settled again."
you cough on pure embarrassment. "she did what?"
he suppresses a grin. "it was cute, actually. she kept saying, 'jake honey, please don't let her be homeless, she can be... a lot.'"
you sit up. "i will literally burn my house down before i let you repeat anything my mother said about me."
"her words, not mine," he says, holding up his hands. his beautiful, god crafted, veiny hands. "anyway—utilities included. chores are pretty simple. i cook, so you can take trash and recycling. laundry we do separately. shared spaces stay clean."
"define clean."
"not a biohazard."
"rude."
"accurate."
you throw a pillow at his head. he catches it one-handed without breaking eye contact.
you actually stop breathing for a second.
since when can jake do that? since when is he coordinated? since when does he have forearms like that?
you scowl to cover the fact that your brain just short-circuited. "fine. anything else?"
he tilts his head. "yeah. don't steal my hoodies." you blink innocently. "why would i steal your hoodies?"
his gaze drops to your suitcase—where three of his old ones that you had 'borrowed' back in highschool are hanging out the side. proof that you struggled to pack all your belongings in two measly suitcases.
traitors.
"uh-huh," he says. "point is, don't steal them."
"i don't steal," you lie.
"you do."
"i borrow."
"indefinitely." you cross your arms. "well, maybe if you didn't buy hoodies that look good on me—"
"they look good on me," he corrects smoothly. "you're just annoying enough to steal them."
you're going to scream.
you stand, stalking toward the kitchen just to regain power. "i'm eating your snacks as payment for emotional damages."
he follows at a leisurely pace, because apparently he's immune to your chaos now. you yank open the fridge. it's organized. color-coded. there are vegetables.
"who are you?" you whisper, horrified. "where is the boy who ate a fruit roll-up off the sidewalk?"
"buried him," jake answers, grabbing a bottle of water and handing it to you. "grew up. got a job. graduated. learned to mop."
you squint at him. "did you join a cult?"
he laughs again—warm and low. "no. i just stopped being twelve."
"you were twelve for like ten years."
"and you're still twelve," he shoots back calmly. "so at least one of us stayed consistent."
you gape. "you're so— so—"
"accurate?"
"i was gonna say insufferable."
he leans on the counter across from you, arms folded, gaze steady.
"you were expecting me to be exactly the same, weren't you?"
you freeze. he's right. he knows he's right and you hate that he knows he's right.
before you can respond, he adds—lightly, but with something underneath, "don't worry. i still remember everything."
your heartbeat trips.
"everything?" you repeat.
he smiles. slow. devastating. "everything."
you look away first. you hate that too.
you grab chips from the pantry—loudly, aggressively—and announce, "i'm gonna walk around in tiny shorts and leave my stuff everywhere."
"go for it," jake says, opening a cabinet above your head to grab a mug. "i don't scare that easily."
"i wasn't trying to scare you!"
"sure."
"i wasn't—!"
he takes a sip of water like he didn't just psychologically annihilate you.
you feel your face heat. you hate him. you hate that he's changed. you hate that he hasn't changed in the ways that matter. you hate that he's taller and calm and unbothered and smells like pine and laundry and maybe a little bit like heartbreak.
and you really hate the traitorous thought sneaking into your brain: you might be in trouble.
after the unexpected back forth between you and jake, jake kindly showed you to your room which was much nicer than the one at your old apartment.
"i'll let you settle in, i'll be back in a few. gym." and with that he slips through the door and out of your sight.
since when did he go to the gym? since those veiny arms blessed your sight.
you huff while unpacking, taking in the clean space as a foreign feeling takes place in your chest.
what the fuck are you going to do?
𓂃
you hear the door before you see him.
a heavy, warm thud of sneakers hitting the entry rug. the quiet clink of keys. then the low, tired exhale of a man who just returned from the gym and doesn't realize he's about to emotionally ruin someone.
you peek over the couch. and yeah, he's sweaty.
like—sweat running down his neck, shirt stuck to his chest, hair pushed back with a damp curl kind of sweaty.
your brain forgets basic motor functions. he looks up and catches you staring, a unrecognizable glint in his soft eyes.
"hey," he says, voice rougher than usual. "you're still awake?" awake? you're clinically deceased, but sure.
you sit up, flipping your hair like you didn't just get jump-scared by his forearms. "yeah. couldn't sleep. your... stomping woke me up."
"i didn't stomp," he says, amused. "i walked in."
"well it was loud."
"you were watching tiktoks on full volume."
you glare, chucking your phone on the other couch. "stop knowing things."
he smirks and heads to the kitchen for water, pulling his shirt up to wipe his face.
you get a full view of toned stomach. abs. v-line. you stop breathing somewhere around ab #3.
okay. enough. you're not going to let him win tonight. this morning he made you flustered. tonight? you're fighting back.
you hop off the couch and follow him to the kitchen, wearing the tiniest sleep shorts you own and his hoodie—you know, for psychological warfare.
"so," you announce, hopping onto the counter, crossing your legs slowly. "long workout? you look... tired."
he opens the fridge. "yeah. leg day."
you hum. "maybe you should let me massage them. you know. as a housewarming gift."
he doesn't choke. he doesn't blush. he just closes the fridge, sets down the water bottle, and looks at you with that infuriating, slow-lingering gaze that makes your stomach flip like a dying fish.
"you wanna massage my legs?" he asks softly, his brow quirking up before his gaze drops down to your bare legs and your small frame which was swallowed by his hoodie.
your throat closes. "i— i mean— maybe— if you—"
he takes a step closer. then another. until he's right in front of you, standing between your knees, but not touching you. not even a brush of skin. just close enough that you swear you can feel the heat rolling off him.
your brain: DEAD. ABSOLUTELY GONE.
he places his hands on the counter on either side of your hips, caging you in—without touching you once.
your breath catches. everything in you goes still.
"you offering charity massages now?" he murmurs, eyes dropping briefly to your mouth. "that doesn't sound like you."
your voice cracks. "why not?"
"you don't do things out of kindness." his tone is teasing, warm. "you do things because you want attention."
your entire nervous system sets on fire.
"i— excuse— i don't—"
"it's okay," he continues, leaning just an inch closer, his nose almost brushing yours. "i don't mind giving you the attention."
you swallow hard. "move."
"you sure?" he asks quietly. "you seem pretty comfortable."
you are not comfortable. you are a molecule vibrating out of your own skin.
you shove a hand at his chest—bad idea, he's solid—and babble stupidly, "i'm fine. you're weird. stop being tall at me."
jake laughs under his breath. it's warm. dangerous. affectionate in a way that makes your stomach curl.
he leans in like he might actually touch your cheek, lips, something and you freeze. but he doesn't. at the last second, he dips his head past yours and reaches behind you to grab a mug from the cabinet above.
you nearly scream. he pulls back slowly, the corner of his mouth tilted in a knowing smirk.
"relax," he says softly. "if i actually cornered you, you'd combust."
you glare at him, cheeks on fire. "i hate you."
"no you don't." he taps your knee with a finger, the only touch, light, teasing, devastating. "but you can keep pretending."
you nearly fall off the counter trying to escape.
he watches, amused, taking a sip of water like he didn't just send you through all five stages of grief.
"goodnight," he says casually, heading to his room.
you stare after him, emotionally damaged.
"i'm not massaging your stupid legs!" you call out.
his voice drifts back, "you offered."
you bury your face in your hands. you are so, so screwed.
𓂃
you wake up to the smell of something heavenly.
warm. buttery. slightly sweet.
you blink at the ceiling.
no way. no way jake is up early being...competent.
you stomp down the hall dramatically, ready to insult him for being a functional adult at 8:12 a.m.
and you freeze. because jake is shirtless. shirtless. in his kitchen. your now shared kitchen.
his back muscles shift as he flips pancakes. his sweatpants hang low. his hair is messy in the exact way that suggests he just rolled out of bed and looked inhumanly good by accident.
you forget why you entered the kitchen. or how to inhale.
he glances over his shoulder. "morning."
the audacity. “you—" your voice cracks. "you're— you're not wearing clothes."
he looks down, confused. "i'm wearing pants."
"that's not the point!"
"sounds like it is."
you hate him. you hate him so much your eye twitches. he plates a pancake and nods toward the stove. "there's extra batter if you want to make your own."
you puff up, offended. "i CAN cook."
jake raises an eyebrow. "do you want to say that again? slowly?"
you march to the fridge, grab random ingredients you probably won't need, and announce, "watch and learn."
"i'm watching." his voice is annoyingly amused.
"not sure i'll be learning."
you ignore him, crank the stove on too high, and pour way too much batter in the pan. it spreads like a sad, beige puddle.
jake strolls over, sipping coffee, watching like he's observing wildlife.
"that's... thick," he comments.
"it's called fluffy," you snap back, your eyes finding his before dropping down to his chest and stomach. oh god why did you do that? jake catches your vision, a smirk playing on his lips.
fuck you.
"oh. okay. it's very... fluffy."
"shut up."
the pancake starts smoking aggressively. you start panicking aggressively.
"um— is it supposed to—"
WHOOSH.
flame kisses the edge of the pan. you shriek. "OH MY GOD—" jake moves instantly, reaching past you to turn down the burner.
and suddenly—he's right behind you. his chest against your back. his arms braced around you as he grabs the pan. his voice low, right by your ear,
"hey. relax. i got it."
your brain vacates the premises.
his hands move with confidence, fixing your disaster pancake. his breath brushes your neck. he's close—too close—and yet he's acting like this is normal.
"you're gonna start a fire," he says softly, almost teasing.
"i— i didn't— the burner— your stove is— i— shut up," you whisper, mortified.
he laughs quietly, the sound warm against your skin.
"you're cute when you panic," he murmurs, not moving away. you seize up when you feel his warm breath brush against the shell of your ear, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.
you clutch the counter for emotional support. "can you—can you back up?"
"why?" his tone is innocent. way too innocent.
"you seemed fine last night when i was close."
you almost combust like the pancake.
"that was different!"
"how?" he asks, dipping his head just enough that you feel the brush of his hair against your cheek.
you have no good answer. because the truth is humiliating, last night you were flustered. now you're flustered and underprepared and wearing pajama shorts shaped like licorice strings.
you grab a spatula and use it like a weapon to push him away.
"move," you hiss, your face burning red.
he steps back, hands up, grinning like a menace. "yes, chef."
"don't call me chef."
"okay. fire hazard."
"JAKE."
he laughs a full, bright laugh that makes your stomach twist and heads back to his own plate.
you plate your uneven, charred pancake with defeated silence.
and jake, the infuriating man, sets another golden, perfectly round pancake onto your plate.
you blink. "what's this?"
"a real breakfast," he says, pouring syrup for you like you're a child. "because you nearly burned the apartment down trying to prove a point."
you glare at him. "i was doing FINE."
"sure," he hums. "and i'm a ballerina."
you stab your pancake.
he watches you with that soft, amused smile again—the one with something deeper behind it.
then he adds, "you know... it's kind of nice having you here."
your fork slips out of your hand. "...what?" like you had said earlier, you're a lot of things but one thing you definitely are is self aware. you are not nice to have around, and you know it.
he shrugs, easy. "just saying."
you stare at him, face warming in a way you refuse to acknowledge. you mumble into your syrup, "i hate you."
he smiles, slow and knowing. "no you don't."
and the worst part? he's right.
the first week in jake's apartment goes... fine.
dangerously fine.
it should've been easy to fall back into the old dynamic: you, the bossy menace; him, the soft puppy trailing after you with a shy smile and an unlimited tolerance for your nonsense.
except—he doesn't trail. he doesn't melt. he doesn't fold. and that pisses you off more than you'd ever admit.
the chaos starts small.
your makeup begins multiplying across the bathroom counter like it's staging a coup. lip glosses in a neat little line beside his toothbrush; your setting spray sitting directly in front of his razor; your glitter eyeshadow palette open—because closing it would've taken effort, obviously.
jake doesn't complain. he doesn't even sigh.
he just walks in one morning, towels slung over his shoulder, hair damp from the gym, and pauses at the counter.
"is this all yours?" he asks.
you don't look up from your phone. "hm? oh. yeah. i need space. don't be selfish."
jake nods slowly, like he's taking notes on you for a research study. "right. selfish. of course."
you ignore the way that makes your stomach twist.
you up the ante. you start asking—no, demanding—rides.
"jake," you call from your bedroom one morning, "can you take me to get coffee?"
"there's a café two blocks away," he says, leaning on your doorframe, wet hair dripping onto his hoodie.
you gasp like he's suggested you walk barefoot through snow. "that's uphill."
"slightly."
"jake. it's morning. i'm fragile."
he snorts and tosses you his car keys. "fine. you drive."
you blink at him like he had grown a second head. "i was... i was asking you to take me."
"yeah," he says, already walking away, "and i'm telling you to take yourself."
you stare at the keys like they've personally insulted you.
then there's the pizza incident. you take the last slice. obviously. you don't even feel bad. you're sitting on the couch when he walks in, box in hand, looking for the missing piece.
he lifts an eyebrow—that stupid, infuriatingly calm eyebrow—and glances at the empty plate on your lap.
"you didn't eat the last slice, did you?"
"no," you say immediately, even though the evidence is literally smeared on your mouth.
he looks at you. really looks. slowly. knowingly. lips tugging upward. "right," he says softly. "of course you didn't."
then he reaches forward, thumb hovering near the corner of your mouth—not touching, but close enough that the heat of him brushes your skin.
your body locks up.
his voice drops, warm and amused, "you've got sauce right here."
you nearly stop breathing. and then he pulls back, smiling like nothing happened.
you want to strangle him. or kiss him. or both.
but it's the blanket situation that finally pushes you over the edge.
his blankets are better. obviously they are. he's responsible and orderly and uses fabric softener. you're a tired disaster with a credit card.
so you drag his nicest throw blanket into your room one night without asking.
in the morning, he finds you on the couch wrapped in it like a human burrito, scrolling through your phone.
he laughs—this low, warm sound that makes something traitorous flutter in your chest.
"you know," he says, "you have blankets."
"yeah but yours are... softer."
he tilts his head, walking behind the couch. "so your solution was theft?"
"i don't see you complaining."
"i'm not complaining." he leans down behind you, close enough that you feel the warmth of his breath by your ear. "i'm just observing."
you freeze. again. you're starting to hate how often that happens.
"why're you so jumpy?" he murmurs, voice like honey.
"shut up," you whisper.
he only chuckles, watching your face turn a pretty shade of pink.
and then comes the night you push too far.
you're irritated for no real reason—maybe because he didn't react the way you wanted, maybe because he's not the boy you expected, maybe because his quiet confidence does something to you you can't explain.
you snap at him. something stupid. something about the air conditioner and his "stupid, organized, obsessive thermostat rules."
he's standing in the kitchen drying dishes when you say it. you expect him to fold, apologize, let you roll over him like you always have.
instead—he sets the plate down. slowly. carefully.
like he's placing a piece in a chess game he's already winning.
then he turns and walks toward you. the air changes, it thickens, until you swear you can feel it press against your skin.
you retreat one step, he follows. you bump lightly into the counter. he doesn't touch you. he doesn't need to.
he braces one hand on the counter beside your hip, leaning in just enough that your heart slams painfully against your ribs.
his voice is warm, but the firmness beneath it is unmistakable. "don't talk to me like that."
heat crawls up your neck, "i wasn't— i didn't—"
"no," he says, soft and steady, "you did."
his eyes flick down to your lips for half a second—half a heartbeat—before meeting your eyes again.
"i let you get away with that stuff when we were kids," he continues. "but i'm not that guy anymore."
your pulse stutters. his face is close enough that you see the gold flecks in his eyes. "you don't get to talk to me like that," he says.
a beat.
"not anymore."
you swallow so hard it hurts. you open your mouth—to apologize, to argue, you're not sure—but nothing comes out.
jake watches you, a faint smile playing at the corner of his mouth. not cruel. not mocking. just... knowing. then, gently, he pushes off the counter and steps back.
"good," he murmurs, turning away to finish the dishes. "i'm glad we understand each other."
you stand there, dizzy, cheeks burning, knees genuinely weak. you've never shut up so fast in your entire life.
and you hate—absolutely hate—how much you liked it.
𓂃
you don't realize when it starts.
or maybe you do, and you're just pretending you don't, because acknowledging it would mean admitting something absolutely unacceptable: that jake sim—golden retriever, former bowl-cut disaster, childhood doormat—is becoming the gravitational pull of your entire stupid life.
and you hate that.
you REALLY hate that.
it happens on a friday night.
you're out with a few friends—the fun, chaotic ones who think your bratty personality is "endearing" and "so girlboss of you." you're half-done a drink, leaning over the bar to talk to some tall, kind-of-cute guy who'd been eyeing you for the last ten minutes.
he's laughing at your jokes. you're flipping your hair and pretending you're not checking your reflection in the chrome beer tap.
it's going great.
until you hear the voice that's been in your dreams for the last few months, "hey."
you don't even have to turn around. your stomach recognizes his voice before your brain does.
jake.
you freeze, hand still hovering mid-gesture, and the guy in front of you lifts a curious eyebrow.
the asshole actually smiles at jake when he approaches, like they're suddenly in a friendly competition he's about to lose without knowing why.
jake leans against the bar beside you like he's been invited, like he belongs there—tall, warm, annoyingly good-smelling. his hand is on the small of your back, not touching, but close enough that you feel heat radiating through your shirt.
you hate that your heart triple-flips.
"hey," you say, pretending not to care, though your voice is a little too high. "what are you doing here?"
jake shrugs lightly. his eyes flick once—just once —to the guy you were flirting with. "came to pick you up."
"i didn't ask you to."
"your phone's dead."
you blink. you check your phone...your phone is, in fact, dead.
god, that's so annoying.
the cute guy clears his throat. "you two... know each other?"
before you can answer, jake does, with the most harmless, friendly voice you've ever heard, "yeah. she lives with me."
the guy's smile collapses.
your jaw drops. "jake—that's not—"
"roommates," he adds, finally throwing you a look that says better? but it's too late. the guy is already pulling back, suddenly very uninterested in continuing the conversation with a girl who apparently has a six-foot wall of muscle as a roommate.
"he's just—he's exaggerating," you say desperately, but the guy is already lifting his drink in a goodbye gesture. "nice meeting you," he says—to jake. not you.
he leaves. just like that.
you whirl on jake. "what the hell was that?"
jake looks genuinely confused. "what was what?"
"you—you scared him off!"
"i didn't do anything." his voice is maddeningly calm.
you shove his arm. it does nothing except hurt your hand a little. "you know what you did."
jake tilts his head, pretending to think, then steps closer, way closer, bending slightly so his face is level with yours. "if he got scared because i exist, maybe he wasn't that interested."
"you're insufferable."
"you're welcome for the ride home," he says, smiling like the world's sweetest problem.
you want to push him again.
you also want to grab him by the stupid lapel of his stupid jacket and kiss him until he can't talk like that anymore.
it's infuriating.
and it keeps happening.
you're out for brunch with friends and jake drops by to hand you the cardigan you "accidentally" stole again and suddenly the guy who'd been trying to get your number excuses himself.
you're buying ice cream at a street vendor, jake appears behind you because he was "in the neighborhood," and the guy working the cart instantly stops flirting with you mid-sentence.
you're at the bookstore, a cute grad student is recommending a title, and the moment jake walks up beside you to say, "hey, thought you wanted that coffee?" the grad student's smile just... dies.
every time, jake acts like he has no idea why.
every time, you want to scream.
one evening, you're sitting on the couch scrolling, pretending not to watch the clock, wondering when he's going to get home.
you hate that you miss him. you hate that his absence feels like silence filling the apartment too heavily.
the door unlocks. your heart jumps. you immediately scowl at yourself.
he steps in—hair messy from the wind, gym bag slung over his shoulder, wearing a fitted hoodie that absolutely shouldn't fit him that well.
"you're late," you snap, even though he isn't.
jake lifts a brow. "didn't know i had a curfew."
you huff. "whatever."
but he's already walking past you, and your eyes, traitors, follow him. the way his shoulders move. the way he reaches up to put his keys on the hook. the way his shirt lifts just slightly as he stretches.
you look away too fast and nearly drop your phone.
he notices. of course he notices. jake always notices.
he walks back toward the couch, slow, amused, hands in his pockets. you're about to make up some snarky comment when he stands directly in front of you, blocking the TV, blocking everything, and says gently:
"hey."
you blink up at him. you didn't even realize you'd been frowning.
"rough night?" he asks, voice warm, soft, impossibly soothing.
"none of your business," you mutter, crossing your arms.
but you don't move away when he leans down a little, bracing one hand on the back of the couch beside your head—not touching you, just close enough that you feel caged in.
"you know..." he says slowly, eyes dropping to your lips for one devastating second, "you don't have to act tough with me."
your throat closes. your brain refuses to function.
then—as if that wasn't enough torture—he adds, quieter, "you know i'm not the kid you used to boss around. you see that now, right?"
you hate how hot your face gets. you hate how your pulse spikes. you hate that your breath catches in your chest like you've been punched.
and you really hate how much you want him to say it again.
before you can fire back, before you can regain control, jake pushes off the couch and steps away, giving you space again.
like he didn't just ruin your entire week.
"i'm gonna shower," he says simply, like he didn't just mentally dismantle you. "order dinner if you're hungry."
you stare at him. you stare through him. then you finally breathe.
your voice comes out small. "jake?"
he pauses, glancing over his shoulder. his eyes soften in that way that makes your stomach flip inside out.
you swallow. "why do people keep assuming we're... y'know... together?"
he smiles—slow, deep, knowing.
"maybe," he says, "they're seeing something you're not ready to see yet."
your heart stops. you want to scream. you want to hit him. you want to kiss him until your knees give out. but you can't say any of that. so instead you throw a pillow at him. "shut up."
he laughs—warm, gentle, absolutely insane-making and disappears into the hallway. leaving you on the couch, heart sprinting, stomach twisted, entire world tilted sideways...
and realizing, for the first time, that you might be in very, very dangerous territory.
𓂃
you don't plan on getting jealous. you really don't. it just kind of... ambushes you, like a flying brick to the head.
the whole thing starts because your friend group decides to have a little saturday picnic in the park—very "we're adults now," very "bring something homemade," very "let's pretend our lives aren't falling apart."
you drag jake along because obviously. he has a car and you don't feel like ubering. plus, he always carries things for you without complaining, and you plan to bring at least four bags despite it being a two-hour outing.
he agrees without hesitation, because of course he does.
the morning of, he comes out of his room wearing a white t-shirt, grey sweats, a backward baseball cap, and that infuriating golden retriever smile that makes your stomach do embarrassing gymnastics.
you pretend not to notice. you absolutely notice.
"you ready?" he asks, grabbing the cooler like it weighs nothing.
you squint at him. "you're wearing that?"
he glances down at himself. "...yes?"
"to a picnic?"
"is this not... picnic attire?"
"you look like a catalogue model for 'athletic boyfriend who loves you.'"
he grins. "so i look good? i fit the part?" you blush furiously at his words, choosing to roll your eyes so dramatically it should win an award. "i didn't say that."
"but you didn't deny it."
"jake."
"yes?"
"shut up."
he just laughs and ushers you out the door with a hand on your lower back—casual, familiar, too natural.
you hate how your heart stutters. you want to be annoying on purpose, just to punish him. you succeed by making him carry every single one of your bags.
he still keeps that stupid gentle smile.
you hate it. you love it. you hate that you love it.
the picnic starts fine. your friends adore him—which annoys you for reasons you refuse to examine.
"jake's so sweet," one of them says while he helps set up the blanket.
"jake's so tall," another sighs dreamily.
"jake's so—"
"okay!" you cut in, a little too loudly. "we get it. he's perfect. shut up." everyone stares. you pretend you didn't say anything weird.
jake just throws you an amused little look like he knows exactly what's happening in your brain and is choosing to spare you.
which somehow makes it worse. then she arrives.
the problem. the villain. the enemy.
your friend's coworker—invited last minute—named mia, with perfect hair and a perfect smile and an offensively cute sundress. she spots jake instantly, like a moth to a glow-in-the-dark lantern.
"oh my god, hi," she chirps, stepping right into his space. "we haven't met yet. i'm mia."
you watch from your corner of the blanket, chewing a strawberry like you're trying to murder it with your teeth.
mia laughs at everything he says. she touches his arm at least twice. she calls him funny—funny, jake, the man who laughs at his own dad jokes and says "oopsies" when he drops things.
your eye twitches. and jake... doesn't pull away.
worse, he's being his usual self—easygoing, kind, listening fully, that soft focused attention he gives people when he genuinely likes them.
you have never hated being conscious more. your friends keep giving you meaningful looks.
you keep ignoring them. except then mia leans in closer, tiny sundress fluttering, and says, "so, are you seeing anyone?"
you nearly choke on air. jake doesn't seem fazed. "uh... i—"
"jake!" you snap, way too quickly, way too loud.
everyone stops. jake turns toward you with slow amusement raising his eyebrows. "yeah?"
"you— uh..." your brain abandons you. it packs its bags and literally leaves the continent. "you forgot to... um... help me with something."
he looks at the fully assembled picnic. "help you with what?"
"something," you repeat, sweating. "very important."
mia blinks. "oh, we can finish our conversa—"
"NOPE," you say, grabbing jake's wrist and yanking him off the blanket so fast he practically trips. "no need. bye. go touch grass or something."
you drag him behind a tree like a deranged cartoon burglar. he follows, mostly because he's trying not to laugh.
"you good?" he asks softly.
"i'm fine," you snap, glaring at him.
"you sure? because you look—" "if you say 'jealous' i'm going to drown you in the lake."
he smirks. "i was going to say 'cute,' but okay."
your brain fries like an egg on asphalt. "shut up," you whisper, but it comes out breathless.
he steps closer—not touching, but close enough that the tree is behind you and he's in front of you, warm and solid and taller than you remember.
"you dragged me away from someone mid-flirt," he murmurs, voice dropping into that low warm register that goes straight to your knees. "so i'm gonna need you to explain."
you glare up at him. "i did not. she wasn't flirting."
"she asked if i was seeing anyone."
"she was just being friendly."
"she touched my arm."
"maybe she's friendly with arms." god, you want to be friendly with his arms. "you pulled me across the park."
"i felt like walking."
"you growled." your face burns. "i did not!"
he grins—slow, devastating. "you definitely did." you shove his shoulder, which does absolutely nothing because he's built like a wall now. "you're imagining things."
"am i?"
"yes."
he leans in, inches from your face, eyes ridiculously soft and warm and knowing. "then tell me why you're mad."
you open your mouth. nothing comes out. your throat works around a sound that isn't a word.
jake watches all of it with that maddening patience—like he's been waiting years for this exact moment and can give you all the time in the world.
then, barely above a whisper, "you know i'd drop anyone the second you wanted me to... right?"
your heart stops. actually stops. you physically forget what breathing is.
and he smiles—that deeper, slower version he only gives you now—before stepping back, giving you space like he didn't just vaporize your entire soul.
"come on," he says, gentle. "before your friends think you murdered me." he starts walking back. you stare after him, stunned, furious, flustered, painfully alive.
you hate him. you really, really like him. you hate that you really, really like him.
and when mia tries to talk to him again later, he doesn't even notice—because he's too busy watching you out of the corner of his eye, like you're the only person in the park.
and that's when you know, you're doomed.
𓂃
the day starts stupidly normal, which should've been your first warning.
it's saturday. the sun is too bright. jake's already up—as always—making breakfast like some domestic prince charming he has no right to be. you stumble into the kitchen in one of his hoodies, hair a mess, mascara from last night smudged like war paint.
he glances over his shoulder, amused. "morning, trouble."
you roll your eyes because your heart does a weird little tap-dance. "you're loud."
"i haven't even said anything."
"you existing is loud."
he laughs—soft, warm, like he thinks you're hilarious even when you're being awful and goes back to cooking.
you sit at the counter, chin in your palm, watching him move around like he owns every inch of this kitchen. he does, technically, but you hate how good he looks doing it. the rolled sleeves that expose his delicious looking forearms. the concentration. the way he pushes his hair back when it falls over his forehead.
you look away before he catches you staring. he sets a plate in front of you a moment later, eggs, toast, fruit. stupidly wholesome.
you poke at it. "jake..."
"mm?"
"i need your car today." your car had been in the shop for the last few days, leaving you stranded at home majority of the day.
he pauses. not dramatically. not in a way meant to provoke you. just... pauses. "for what?"
"i need to run errands," you shrug. "grocery store, nail appointment, whatever."
he leans his hip against the counter, arms crossing. "you can take the bus. i need the car."
you blink. blink again. "...the bus?"you say it like he suggested you swim across the pacific ocean.
"yeah," he says simply. "the 14 stops right outside the building. it's not hard."
you stare at him and he stares back. somewhere deep inside your spoiled, bratty, slightly feral soul, a fuse lights.
"you're being dramatic," you declare.
"i'm being practical."
"you're supposed to help me."
"i do help you."
"not right now!" he exhales, patient but firm. "my car isn't your personal uber."
your pride twists sharply. you feel it—that hot, impulsive, immature spark that always gets you in trouble.
"wow," you snap, standing from the stool. "you get a couple muscles, a salary, and suddenly you're too good for me?" his brows lift, surprised—not offended, not angry—just surprised that you'd go for that. "i didn't say that."
"you're acting like it!"
you don't mean the words. not really. they spill out because you're flustered and embarrassed and you hate how stable he is when you're wobbling all over the emotional place. you fold your arms, chin lifted in that signature i'm-right-even-when-i'm-wrong posture.
"i'm asking for one tiny thing, jake. one. and you're giving me attitude? seriously?"
he doesn't flinch. "you're not asking," he says quietly. "you're demanding."
your pulse kicks up—defensive, stubborn. "because you're supposed to say yes!"
"why?" you hate that he says it without raising his voice. hate how calm he is while you're practically vibrating.
"because you always have!" you blurt. "you always listened to me! you always—"
"i was a kid," he says, tone low but steady. "you treated me like i didn't know how to have my own life. and back then? maybe i didn't."
you freeze. his expression softens—not pitying, not mocking —soft in the way someone looks when they finally decide to stop letting you run from something. "but i'm not that kid anymore," he says. "and you can't talk to me like i am."
your throat tightens—sharp, sudden. it's stupid how much it hits you, how fast your anger collapses into something hot and guilty.
he steps closer. not threatening. just... present.
closer than you expected. closer than your heart can handle without short-circuiting.
your voice shrinks. "i wasn't— i didn't mean—"
"yeah," he murmurs, eyes steady on yours. "i know. but you said it anyway."
you swallow. hard. jake looks down at you like he's seeing every version of you at once, bossy eight-year-old you, dramatic teenager you, chaotic adult you, and none of them scare him. none of them push him away.
"i'm not the one who needs to grow up," he says, softer now. "and i'm not trying to fight you. but i'm not here to be ordered around." the room feels too quiet suddenly. the only sound is the faint sizzle of the pan cooling on the stove and your own uneven breathing.
"i... didn't know i was doing that," you whisper.
"yeah," he says again, but gently. "that's the problem."
you look away, frustrated with yourself more than with him. and then he reaches out—slow, careful—and hooks a finger under your chin to tilt your face back up. not forceful but impossible to ignore. his voice drops just a little. warm. real. a little too intimate.
"i'm not going anywhere," he says. "i never have. but you can't keep pretending i belong to you just because i used to follow you around."
the words hit you dead center. because the truth—the horrible, humiliating, painfully raw truth—is that you didn't treat him like he was below you.
you treated him like he was yours. and somewhere along the way, he learned to walk without trailing behind you. you blink fast, trying not to let your eyes shine too much. "i... i just thought..."
"i know," he murmurs. "but that's why we're having this conversation."
you nod, small. awkward. vulnerable in a way you hate being. jake steps back slowly, giving you space without breaking eye contact.
"you can still take the bus," he says lightly. "i'll even google the schedule for you." you glare. but it's weak. he smiles, that stupid warm smile that ruins you every time. and for the first time, your bratty instinct doesn't flare up. instead, something quieter settles in your chest.
you're not sure you like it. you're very sure it has everything to do with him.
𓂃
it starts on a lazy sunday afternoon—the fake kind of lazy where you're doing nothing but somehow jake is doing everything.
he's folding laundry, humming, looking offensively good in a plain white tee, while you lie on the couch upside down, legs over the backrest, scrolling on your phone like a disgruntled cat.
you're bored. dangerous.
"jake," you call, voice dramatic, "i'm craving entertainment. entertain me." he doesn't even glance over. "i'm folding your shirts. that's entertaining."
"no, that's domestic," you correct. "you're like a husband in a detergent commercial."
"at least i smell nice?" he shrugs. you pause. he does. annoyingly so. you ignore the flutter in your stomach and point your toes at him from the upside-down position.
"tell me a story," you demand. "like bedtime story vibes. something juicy. something chaotic. something where i'm the main character—" "—which you always are," he finishes for you, snorting. "okay. fine. let's do memory lane."
you lift your head just enough to squint at him. "that sounds suspiciously sentimental."
"you're the one who asked." you flop your head back. "proceed, peasant."
he finally looks at you—that slow, amused, golden-retriever-who-knows-your-game look. "alright. remember grade four?"
"i choose not to."
"too bad," he says, sitting on the floor in front of the couch, folding the last shirt. "you announced to the whole class that we were getting married."
your phone drops onto your face. "i what—?"
he laughs, warm and full, like it's a memory he's kept safe. "yeah. you stood on a chair during recess and yelled, 'jake is gonna be my husband because he listens!'" you bury your face in your hands. "oh my god."
"you even made me a ring out of twist ties."
"stop talking."
"and then you made me swear an oath—"
"NO YOU DID NOT JUST SAY OATH—"
"—that i'd carry your backpack forever because i was 'stronger' and 'built for it'." you groan so loudly that he laughs again.
"you loved bossing me around," he says, softer now. "i still do," you shoot back, kicking his shoulder lightly with your foot. he catches your ankle. not tight, but just enough for your breath to hitch.
"i know." his voice is lower. "you were kind of terrifying."
"i was adorable," you argue, rolling his eyes.
"you were a tiny tyrant with pigtails."
"and you followed me everywhere," you retort, letting your foot rest in his hold because pulling away feels too much like losing.
"yeah," he says quietly, thumb brushing just once over your ankle before he realizes and lets go. "i did." you freeze. he doesn't look flustered, but the way he moves—slow, controlled, pretending nothing happened—tells you he definitely felt something too.
so you clear your throat and switch the subject recklessly. "well, remember when you glued your hand to a desk?" the corner of his mouth twitches. "you told me it would make me smarter."
"and you believed me!" you cackle.
"you said the glue had 'knowledge properties,'" he defends, pointing an accusing finger at you. "you said einstein invented it!"
you're laughing so hard you almost fall off the couch. he tries to stay serious, but your laugh is contagious and he ends up leaning back against the couch, head tipped against your knee as he laughs too.
you go still. his head. on your leg. like it's natural. like it's always been that way. your laugh fades into a stubborn little silence you can't name.
he notices. he always notices. "hey," he murmurs, chin tilting up just a little so he can see your upside-down face. "what's with that look?"
"what look?" you whisper, too fast.
"the one where you pretend you're annoyed but you're actually... i don't know." he searches your expression. "thinking."
you scoff. "i don't think."
"yes you do."
"nope."
"you definitely do."
"stop accusing me of intelligence!" he laughs again, but this time something softer lingers under it — something warm, something knowing. the air shifts. you hate it. or maybe you don't, maybe that's the problem.
"okay, next memory," you say quickly, tapping his forehead with your foot to break the moment. "tell me something where i look cool."
he smirks. "that never happened."
"JAKE—"
"kidding, kidding." he nudges your leg. "there was that time you punched a boy in the nose because he called me 'jakey-wakey.'"
you blink. "oh yeah. classic me."
"classic you," he echoes, smiling to himself in a way that makes your chest feel tight. and then, quietly, "you always had my back." the room goes still. your heart stutters—because he means it. because he remembers it. because he says it like it mattered.
"don't get sentimental on me, golden boy," you mumble.
"too late," he says, voice warm, teasing, but edged with something real. "you brought up memory lane. i'm just walking it."
you swallow. the dynamic tilts again—just slightly, just enough to make you feel like you're standing on the edge of something big.
so you do what you do best. you kick him lightly in the shoulder. "get up. i'm bored again." he stands, brushing imaginary dust off his shirt.
"fine," he says. "let's go get ice cream."
"you're paying, right?" he sighs. "i always do."
you grin. and he does too, like he wouldn't have it any other way.
𓂃
it starts stupidly. you're not even fighting.
you're tipsy—not blackout, not sloppy, just warm and giggly after a night out with friends. you called jake because your uber bailed and your phone was dying, and he showed up in ten minutes flat, hair messy from sleep, hoodie half-zipped, looking unfairly good for someone dragged out of bed at 1 a.m.
you slid into the passenger seat, all smug. "aww, jakey. did i wake you?"
he didn't even look at you. "put your seatbelt on."
ugh. infuriating. for the entire drive, you tried to poke at him— literally and figuratively—but he kept dodging with that maddening calm.
by the time you walk into the apartment, and by walk you mean jake carrying your flailing body—you're buzzing with irritation that isn't... really irritation.
not exactly. you kick your shoes off dramatically. "you didn't have to come get me, y'know."
he locks the door behind you. "you called," he says simply, shrugging off his hoodie. "i wasn't gonna leave you outside alone."
"i can take care of myself." he gives you a slow, deliberate once-over—the skirt, the smudged makeup, the slightly-wobbly stance.
"sure you can." you make an offended noise, fully ready to start something stupid—but he walks past you toward the kitchen.
which pisses you off more. so you follow him. obviously. he's pulling a water bottle out of the fridge when you step right into his space, eyebrows raised, chin tilted up like a challenge.
"you're ignoring me," you accuse.
"no," he says calmly. "i'm choosing not to indulge you." your stomach actually drops. oh, that tone. that new tone you still haven't learned how to handle.
you scoff. "wow. someone got confident."
"someone had to," he says. and then—god help you—he steps closer. not touching you, just closer.
your back meets the counter, cold through your shirt. he sets the water bottle beside you but doesn't move away. he's right there—warm, solid, taller, broader than he ever was as a kid—and he's looking at you like he can see every thought you're trying to hide.
"you good?" he asks softly. that should be a normal question. but it isn't.your throat goes tight. "i'm fine." he inhales once, slow, like he's counting to five because of you. "you're doing that thing again."
"what thing," you snap too quickly.
"pretending you don't want something," he murmurs, "just because you don't wanna admit i'm the one you want it from."
your breath actually stops. you hate how your hands grip the counter; you hate how your pulse stutters; you hate that he can hear it, probably feel it, with how close he is.
"you think i want something from you?" you manage, trying to sound bored. he leans in, not touching. but close enough that his breath brushes your cheek.
"i think," he says quietly, "you wouldn't have called me tonight if you didn't." your voice comes out small. "i called because my uber bailed."
he smiles. slow. knowing. devastating. "sure," he says. "if that's the lie you wanna stick to."
you actually shove him. well—you try. your hands hit his chest, but he doesn't budge an inch. he just looks down at you with that infuriating calm, like you're cute for even attempting it.
"don't—" your voice breaks, and you hate that too. "don't talk like you know everything."
he corners you fully now, one hand resting on the counter beside your hip, the other lifting—slowly, giving you time—until his fingers hover under your jaw. not touching. just waiting.
"i'm not the one pretending here," he says softly. "i'm not pretending anything."
"yeah?" he whispers. "then look at me." you do. you shouldn't have.
his eyes are warm and dark and unbearably sure of you—like he's known this moment was coming since you were both twelve and you bossed him into giving you the last popsicle on the block. like he's been waiting for you to catch up.
"you can be a brat to everyone else," he says, barely above a murmur. "but you don't get to lie to me." your chest pulls tight, breath shaking, and you don't realize you've gone still until he tilts his head, studying you.
"there it is," he whispers. "finally." finally what? finally you stop running? finally you stop pretending you don't want him? finally you admit you're not the one with the power anymore?
you don't know. you just know your voice is barely a whisper, "...jake." something changes in his face. not anger. not triumph. just... relief. warm and deep and terrifying.
he leans closer, his forehead almost touching yours and his voice drops, low and steady, "i'm not gonna kiss you tonight," he says. "you're drunk."
you swallow hard, embarrassed and grateful and furious all at once. "but tomorrow?" he adds, eyes flicking to your mouth for half a second.
your knees actually go weak, tomorrow? "tomorrow," he says, "you don't get to run." and he steps back. leaving you breathless, cornered by nothing but your own heartbeat.
you wake up with your skull splitting in two, your mouth dry, and the horrifying, slow–motion realization that you remember every single thing that happened last night.
the way jake lifted you off that sidewalk like you weighed nothing. the way he held you steady while you tried to unlock the door and failed miserably.
the way he said it—low, warm, devastating, "you can be a brat to everyone else. but you don't get to lie to me." and worst of all, the way he looked at you afterward. like he was two seconds away from kissing you senseless against your own doorway.
you roll onto your back, throw an arm over your face, and groan.
"oh my god i hate it here," you mutter into your pillow. "i should move out. i should join a monastery. i should fake my death."
a soft knock hits your door. your entire soul leaves your body. "hey," jake's voice calls, maddeningly gentle. "i made breakfast." you consider leaping out the window. instead you croak, "i'm... busy."
"you're hungover."
"busy being hungover." he laughs—that warm, breathy laugh that you hear way too clearly through the door.
"come eat. i won't bite." liar, you think, dragging yourself out of bed. you almost did. you trudge down the hall in an oversized hoodie and socks, praying he looks terrible so you can at least feel morally superior.
he does not look terrible. he's standing at the stove in grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, hair damp, shoulders broad, forearms flexing as he plates food. the apartment is stupidly bright, the sun hits him like it's personally in love.
you want to die. you try to sneak to the fridge for water and pretend he doesn't exist. he turns just in time to catch you.
"morning," he says. you nearly drop the bottle. "...hi."
he raises an eyebrow. "that's it? no yelling? no demands?" you glare at him weakly. "i'm on sick leave."
"mhm." he sets a plate in front of you. "how's the headache?"
"big."
"water's on the table."
"i know."
"you didn't drink it."
"...i was getting emotionally prepared," you mumble. he smiles—soft, amused, slightly pitying—and sits across from you.mthe silence is unbearable. you poke at your eggs like they personally offended you. "so. about last night."
"yeah," he says calmly, sipping his coffee. "about last night." you brace yourself. you don't know what you're expecting—a lecture? a joke? him pretending it didn't happen?
what you don't expect is him leaning back in his chair, eyes flicking over your face like he can see every thought you're trying to drown.
"you were pretty honest," he says softly. you choke on air. "i— what— honest how?" he tilts his head. "you kept grabbing me."
"NO I DID NOT—"
"you did," he says, annoyingly unbothered. "kept saying i 'smelled stupidly good' and that i 'ruined guys' for you." you want the earth to open up and swallow you. "i was drunk," you whisper.
"i know." he nods. "that's why you didn't lie." your heart stutters. his voice drops, the same tone he used last night—warm, steady, too real.
"you don't have to freak out," he murmurs. "i'm not asking for anything." you stare at him. "you're being... weirdly nice."
"i'm always nice to you."
"you're being extra nice." his lips twitch. "you're hungover."
"i don't trust it."
"that says more about you than me," he says, and you actually consider throwing your fork at him. but then... he pushes his chair back. stands. walks around the table. you freeze as he stops right beside you. not touching you, he never touches first, but close enough that your entire body tenses.
"look at me," he says quietly. you do, because what other choice do you have. his eyes hold yours, steady and dark and impossibly sure.
"what i said last night wasn't because you were drunk." a beat. "i meant it." your breath catches. your fingers curl around the edge of your chair. "jake..."
he leans down just a little—not enough to cross the line, but enough that you feel him, warm and solid at your side. "you can avoid me all you want today," he murmurs. "hide in your room. glare at me. pretend you don't remember."
your heart is hammering so loudly you're scared he can hear it. "but we're not going back," he finishes. "not after last night." you can't speak. you can't move. you can't breathe. he straightens slowly, like he knows exactly what he just did to you, and steps back.
"eat your breakfast," he says lightly, already turning toward the sink. "you need your strength." you stare at his back, absolutely feral with confusion and panic and want.
because he's right. everything has changed and you're the one who feels ruined.
the rest of the day is... hell. you hide in your room because you're a coward with a hangover and a heart that won't stop doing gymnastics. you scroll on your phone. you pretend to nap. you dramatically throw yourself on your bed like a victorian widow.
unfortunately, your bedroom shares a wall with the living room.
which means you hear everything. you hear jake laughing softly at his phone. you hear him moving around, cleaning, humming, doing dishes. you hear him existing like the universe didn't tilt on its axis last night.
and every time he shifts, every time the floor creaks, your stomach flips like it's auditioning for a reality show.
around 5 p.m., you crack. you storm out of your room under the noble excuse of "checking if he replaced the Brita filter," which is a lie, but you're committed to the bit.
jake is on the couch. hair damp again from the gym. black t-shirt stretched over his shoulders. sweatpants hanging too low for god's favorites, let alone you, god's forgotten middle child.
he looks up the second you appear.
"hey." so casual. so normal. so illegal.
you fold your arms. "why are you acting weird?"
he blinks. "...i'm literally sitting."
"you're sitting weird." he bites back a smile. "okay. how does one sit weird?"
"like that!" you snap, gesturing vaguely at his whole body. "all... confident."
"i'm sorry?" he laughs, leaning back. "you want me to slouch more?"
"i want you to stop—" you choke on your own words. "—being like... this."he tilts his head. "like what?" you should walk away. run. escape. join witness protection. instead you stomp closer. "stop being smug about last night." his eyebrows lift. "i'm not smug."
"you are," you fire back. "you're doing the eyes."
"...the eyes?"
"yes! the—" you wildly point at his face "—'i know something you're not admitting' eyes." his lips twitch. "maybe because you are avoiding something."
you freeze. he didn't say it sharply. or cruelly. just... plainly. softly. like he's stating the weather.
"i'm not avoiding anything," you lie.
"okay." he pats the couch. "come sit, then." you scoff. "no."
"why not?"
"because." because you don't know what will happen. because you don't trust your own body around him. because his voice last night is still echoing in your bones. "because?" he repeats gently.
you glare. you hate him. you hate that he's winning. you hate that he's not even trying to win. "fine," you snap, and drop onto the couch beside him.
the space between you is legal... but barely. jake doesn't move. doesn't lean in. doesn't touch. he simply turns his head and looks at you.
slowly. openly. like he's reading a book he's already memorized. your pulse stutters. "what?" you demand.
his voice is quiet. "you still look upset."
"i'm not upset."
"you're doing the eyebrows."
you gasp. "I DO NOT—"
"you do," he murmurs, and the tone—god, that tone—almost makes you shake. "you always do when you're overwhelmed." you hate how he knows that. you hate how he knows anything. you hate how safe he makes it feel to be known.
"jake," you say, trying to sound sharp. "stop... looking at me like that."
"like what?"
"like you're—" you swallow "—waiting for me to break." he's quiet for a beat. then, "i'm not waiting," he says softly. "you already are."
your breath catches. he doesn't smirk. he doesn't tease. he just watches you—steady, patient, unbearably gentle. and something in you snaps. "you think you know everything," you whisper.
"no." he shakes his head once. "i just know you."
your throat tightens. you push up from the couch —too fast, too dramatic, too you—but before you can escape, his hand closes around your wrist.
not hard. not forceful. just enough, enough to stop you. enough to pull a tiny gasp from your mouth. enough to make your knees weaken embarrassingly fast.
you stare at him and he stares right back.
"don't run," he murmurs.
"i'm not—"
"you are." his hand slides down, fingers brushing yours. "why are you scared of me?"
"i'm not scared of you," you whisper.
"then look at me." you do and that's your mistake. because he stands and steps into your space. not touching, but close enough that your breath stumbles. your legs buckle beneath you and you find yourself sitting on the sofa again.
your back presses into the sofa without you thinking, his body following, not pinning you, but caging you all the same—one arm braced above your head, the other still holding your wrist like he's reminding you he could've touched more, but chose restraint instead.
his breath ghosts your cheek. "this is what you wanted last night," he says quietly.
your stomach flips so violently you almost fold.
"i— you— i was drunk," you manage.
"you're sober now."
you hate him. you want him. you hate that you want him. his forehead drops to yours—barely touching, barely there, but it feels like a strike of lightning.
"say it," he murmurs, voice dropping to that devastating low. "just once. stop lying to me." you swallow so hard it hurts. "jake..."
his thumb skims the back of your hand—the first real touch—slow and devastating and enough to make heat coiling in your stomach spike.
"say it," he repeats, even softer now. "and i won't make you wait anymore." you gasp. you could feel your chest press in and your thigh clench together, an action that doenst go unnoticed by jake's sharp eyes.
your whole body trembles under his breath, his closeness, his voice and he feels it, oh he absolutely feels it. he smirks, barely. and then, in a tone that is not patient anymore, not gentle anymore—a tone that is pure control, "don't make me ask again."
your mouth parts. your pulse jumps. the line is right there—the moment before the moment—and you know if you speak, if you admit one more thing, everything you've been holding back is going to break wide open.
and he's waiting. breathing with you. holding you still. letting you fall on your own.
your mouth opens, but the only sound is a shaky, pathetic little gasp. your brain is screaming at you to shove him, to run, to do something—anything—but your body is a traitor. it's melting. sinking into the wall of the couch, arching just the tiniest bit toward him, like a flower leaning into the sun.
his thumb presses into the soft skin of your inner wrist, a slow, deliberate circle that feels like a brand. "i'm waiting," he murmurs, and his voice isn't gentle anymore. it's low. rough. it's the voice of someone who's done waiting.
"i—" you try, but the word dissolves. your pride is a flimsy shield against the sheer force of him. he's not just jake anymore. he's the boy who memorized your every whim, who learned your tells, who grew up and sharpened all that quiet observation into a weapon aimed directly at your defenses.
"look at me," he says again, and you do. you have to. his eyes are dark, pinned on yours, and there's no escape in them. there's only the truth. "say it."
"i hate you," you whisper, and it's the most honest thing you've ever said. a slow, vicious smile spreads across his face. it's not triumphant. it's relieved. "no you don't," he breathes, and then he closes the last inch of space.
the first kiss is a collision. it's not soft. it's not hesitant. it's a punishment. his mouth is firm on yours, bruising, and before you can even process it, his teeth are sinking into your bottom lip, a sharp, stinging bite that makes you cry out.
he licks over the hurt immediately, a hot, possessive swipe, and then he's kissing you again, all teeth and tongue, a messy, hungry claim. he's devouring you, and you're letting him. you're arching into him, your free hand fisting the soft cotton of his t-shirt, pulling him closer.
he breaks the kiss, leaving you panting, your lip tingling. his forehead rests on yours, his breathing just as ragged. "see?" he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through your entire body. "not so hard, was it?"
you want to snap back, but all you can manage is a weak, breathless glare.
he chuckles, a dark, warm sound. "still got that look in your eye," he says, his thumb stroking the side of your neck. "like you're planning my murder."
"maybe i am," you whisper, dazed out of your mind.
"good luck with that," he says, and then he's manhandling you. his hands grip your waist, and he's spinning you, pushing you forward until your knees hit the edge of the couch. he bends you over the arm, one hand flat between your shoulder blades, holding you down. the position is obscene, your ass in the air, face pressed into the couch cushions.
"these," he says, his voice low and rough as he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your sleep shorts, "have been driving me crazy for a week."
he tugs them down, slowly, deliberately, and you lift your hips to help him, a silent surrender that feels more powerful than any argument you've ever won. he tosses them aside, his gaze dropping to the thin lace of your panties.
"so much for being subtle," he murmurs, and you flush, because he knows. he knows you wore them for him. you always do.
then his hand is gone from your back for a second, and you hear the sharp sound of it cutting through the air before it connects with your ass. a sharp, stinging slap that makes you yelp into the cushions.
"that's for being a fucking tease," he growls, his hand rubbing the sting into your skin. another slap, this one on the other cheek. "and that's for making me wait."
he yanks your panties down, and the cool air hits your dripping pussy. you're so wet it's embarrassing. "look at this," he breathes, and then you feel it—a sharp, stinging slap right against your folds. you jolt, a choked moan tearing from your throat. it's a different kind of pain, sharper, more intimate.
"so fucking wet for me. you wanted this just as bad as i did, didn't you?"
he doesn't wait for an answer. he's on his knees behind you, his hands gripping your ass cheeks and spreading you open. you feel his hot breath a second before his mouth is on you. he doesn't start slow. he licks a broad, flat stripe from your clit to your entrance, a messy, hungry taste before his lips close around your clit and he sucks. hard.
your knees buckle, but his grip on you is iron. he's a man possessed. he eats you out like he's starving, his tongue fucking into you, his nose pressing against your ass, his teeth scraping your inner thighs. he bites down on the sensitive skin there, hard enough to leave a mark, and you sob, pushing back against his face. he's obsessed. he's consuming you.
he groans at the taste of you, his tongue messy yet precise as he slide down your folds making your squirm. "jake, please," you gasp, your hands fisting the couch cushions.
he pulls back just enough to speak, his voice muffled by your cunt. "please what? beg for it."
"please, i need—"
"need what?" he demands, landing another sharp slap to your pussy. the sting mixes with the pleasure, a dizzying cocktail. you feel his fingers tease your clenching hole, not quite pushing in but instead dip in slightly before running over to rub at your swollen clit.
"your cock," you sob, completely broken. "please, jake, i need your cock."
he groans, a deep, guttural sound of victory. he stands up, and you hear the rustle of his jeans. then he's grabbing you, flipping you over onto your back on the couch like you weigh nothing. he looms over you, his shirt gone, his chest heaving. his eyes are wild, feral.
"open your mouth," he commands, his hand reaching between your legs to rub tight circles around your clit while you struggle to keep your legs open.
you do, without thinking. he leans down, spits directly onto your tongue. it's filthy, degrading, and it sends a bolt of pure lust straight through you. "swallow it," he orders, and you do, your eyes locked on his.
his expression morphs into one of pure bliss, his hand wrapped around his thick aching cock as he jerks himself slightly. he watches your needy mouth pull into a whine when his fingers press harder on your clit, pleading for him to fuck you.
originally, he was going to tease you. have you begging and crying for his cock, but he overestimated his ability to hold back when he realized how good you looked fucked out.
"good girl," he murmurs, and then he's lining himself up, the thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance. he doesn't wait. he pushes into you in one hard, deep stroke, and you both groan. he's big, stretching you, filling you completely, and it's overwhelming in the best possible way.
he starts to move, his hips slamming into yours, a brutal, punishing rhythm. each thrust is deep, deliberate, designed to break you apart. he leans down, sinking his teeth into the soft skin where your neck meets your shoulder, a hard, possessive bite that you know will leave a dark bruise.
"mine," he growls against your skin, his pace quickening. "you've always been mine." his hands fumble to pull up your shirt, eyes bright when he realizes that you weren't wearing a bra. his greedy hands grab at you tits, pinching and squeezing as he watched your face scrunch in pleasure.
"so fucking pretty." he mummers, his cock pounding into you strong before his mouth reach's down to take in one of your nipples—sucking hard.
you whine in response, hands clawing at his shoulders as you arch unnaturally against the couch.
"been waiting for this day for years." he confesses, between kisses that he's leaving on your chest. your heart beats faster at his sudden confession, moaning louder when his cock brushes against that all get area that many of your ex's had trouble finding.
the coil in your stomach tightens, impossibly fast. he can feel it too, can feel the way you're clenching around him, and he reaches down, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing tight, merciless circles.
"cum for me," he commands, his voice a low growl. "now."
you shatter. a blinding, all-consuming orgasm rips through you. you scream his name, your body arching off the couch as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. he follows you over the edge a moment later, his hips stuttering as he buries himself deep inside you with a guttural groan, spilling himself into you.
you shudder at the feeling of his warm cum in you, feeling him twitch inside you as he helped you ride out your high.
he collapses on top of you, his body heavy and warm, his face buried in the crook of your neck. you're both panting, your bodies slick with sweat, the room filled with the sound of your ragged breathing.
for a long moment, neither of you speaks. you just lie there, tangled together, the aftermath of the storm settling around you.
finally, he pushes himself up, his arms braced on either side of your head. he looks down at you, his expression soft, his eyes filled with a terrifying amount of adoration. he leans down and presses a soft, gentle kiss to the bite mark on your neck.
"still hate me?" he murmurs, a ghost of a smile on his lips.
you look up at him, at the boy you've spent a lifetime fighting, and feel something inside you crack open. "no," you whisper, and it's the truest thing you've ever said.
the room is still warm.not from the heater, not from the blankets—from him. from the way he touched you. from the way you touched him back.
you're lying on your back, hair messy, chest still rising too fast, your skin flushed in a way you hope isn't obvious... but you know it is. jake's spread out beside you, one arm tucked behind his head, the other lazily resting across your stomach like he claimed the space there without even thinking about it.
you don't speak at first. neither does he.
your breathing gradually falls back into something human, and eventually something soft and unbearably embarrassing curls into your voice.
"so," you mumble, staring at the ceiling because looking at him might actually kill you. "um. that happened."
jake turns his head toward you slowly—so slowly your pulse skips like it's trying to escape your body.
he doesn't tease. he doesn't joke. he doesn't even smirk. he just looks at you, eyes dark and soft and deeply certain in a way that makes your stomach twist.
"yeah," he says quietly. "it did."
you swallow. his fingers move—not leaving your stomach, just tracing lazy, slow circles like he's memorizing the shape of you now that he's allowed to.
"are you..." his voice dips, warm and low, "okay?"
you shut your eyes for one humiliating second before answering.
"i'm fine."
"you sure?"
"yes."
"positive?"
"jake, please," you groan, dragging your hands over your face. "i'm fine, you're fine, everything's—whatever."
he laughs, soft and breathy, and his hand slides higher on your torso—warm palm resting just beneath your ribs without pushing, without restraining, just there.
and the worst part? you lean into it without thinking.
he notices—of course he notices—because his thumb presses lightly, intentionally, like he's acknowledging the way you reacted.
your voice comes out embarrassingly small. "stop acting like you know everything."
"i don't," he murmurs. "i just know you."
you turn your head sharply, finally meeting his eyes—which was a mistake, because he's already looking at you like he's been waiting for you to do it.
and he holds your gaze. fully. openly. no hesitation left whatsoever.
god, he's bold now. not arrogant. not smug. just... sure.
sure of you. sure of himself. sure of what he wants.
"i meant what i said," he says, the slightest rasp in his voice. "you don't get to lie to me anymore."
you swallow, throat tight. "i wasn't—"
he cuts you off with nothing but a look. a look that tells you exactly what he heard in your voice earlier, in your breathing, in the way you clung to him.
"you don't have to pretend," he adds quietly. "not here. not with me."
your chest squeezes.
no one has ever said that to you before—not like that, not with that kind of certainty, not with that kind of gentleness that feels like he's handing you permission you didn't even know you craved.
so you whisper—barely audible, "i'm not pretending."
his breath catches. barely, but you hear it. then he shifts—not climbing over you, not pulling you in —just rolling onto his side, facing you fully, his leg brushing yours under the blanket that he has pulled over you two.
his voice drops to something dangerously soft.
"good," he murmurs. "because I'm not pretending anymore either."
you blink. "pretending what?"
he leans in, just enough that you feel his breath against your cheek, his nose brushing the corner of yours.
"that I don't want you," he says simply.
your stomach drops straight through the mattress. he keeps going, voice steady, tone low but honest in a way that shakes you more than anything else tonight.
"i'm done acting like I don't think about you all the time," he whispers. "i'm done holding back because I thought it was what you wanted."
your lips part, but nothing comes out.
his thumb grazes your hip under the blanket— slow, barely there, but intentional. grounding. claiming. reassuring.
"i'm done pretending you're just my friend."
your pulse jumps so hard you swear it echoes.
you stare at him—dazed, breathless, overwhelmed.
"jake..."
he just watches you, eyes soft, voice steady.
"you don't have to say anything tonight," he murmurs. "you don't owe me anything. i just need you to know."
you whisper, "know what?"
he holds your gaze like he's anchoring you in place.
"that I want you."
your breath stops.
"that I'm not scared of it."
his fingers tighten just slightly on your hip. "that I'm not scared of you."
you tremble.
"and that I'm not going anywhere."
the room feels too small. too warm. too full of everything you've been running from.
you look at him, really look, and something cracks open in your chest. you don't know what to do with it. you don't know how to breathe around it.
but he does. he reaches up, cups the back of your neck with a gentleness that ruins you more than anything else tonight, and he tugs you in just a little—not kissing you, just touching foreheads, sharing breath.
"we'll talk tomorrow," he murmurs. "when you're less in your head."
you want to argue. you want to push him away.
you want to pull him closer.
you end up doing none of those things—instead you melt, slowly, helplessly, into the space he holds open for you.
he pulls the blanket up. shifts closer. lets your head rest on his chest when you finally, silently, give in.
his hand stays on your back.
steady. warm. sure.
and for the first time, it hits you—painfully, beautifully, terrifyingly, you're not the only one who fell.
𓂃
you wake up before him.
which is unfair, honestly, because you absolutely deserve to sleep in after what he did to you.
your legs ache in that humiliating, delicious way. your throat is dry. your body is warm, too warm, because jake's arm is still around your waist, lazy and heavy and possessive even in sleep.
his breath ghosts the back of your neck. your, his, hoodie that he had helped you slip on last night was now halfway off your shoulder because of him. your pulse is still not normal.
you lie there, staring at the ceiling of the divining room, trying not to combust.
you should be embarrassed. you're not. you should be panicking. you are.
but underneath all of that—buried under the adrenaline and the dizzy aftershocks—there's this new, terrifyingly soft awareness sitting in your chest.
you want him.
in a way that isn't just physical. in a way that isn't just bratty competition. in a way that makes your stomach twist because you know it didn't start last night.
it started way, way before that.
your brain drifts—uninvited, unstoppable—right back to the beginning.
flashback — age 9, the playground
you're wearing a sparkly t-shirt and a crooked ponytail because you cut your own hair with safety scissors. jake is sitting in the sandbox, building something horrifyingly ugly but he swears it's a castle.
you stomp up to him, hands on hips, full attitude, even back then.
"you're doing it wrong," you announce.
he doesn't even look up. "hi to you too."
"jake. that's not a castle. that's a blob."
"it's abstract."
"it's ugly."
he sighs—that tiny, patient sigh that would become his trademark. "okay. what do you want me to do?"
"move over."
you don't wait. you physically shove him two scoots to the left and plop down beside him like you own the sandbox.
he moves. he always moves.
you grab his bucket. "we need more water."
he blinks at you, confused. "um... then go get some?"
you fix him with the most dramatic stare your nine-year-old face can manage.
"...i don't want to."
he laughs—that same soft little huff he still does —and stands up, brushing sand off his shorts.
"fine. i'll go."
"thank you," you say, like you're the queen of england.
when he comes back carrying a wobbly, half-filled bucket, you beam. you don't say thank you again, but he sees it in your face.
he hands you the bucket. but you don't take it.
you tilt your head and say, completely serious, "you pour it."
he should argue. he should tell you to do it yourself. he should tell you you're bossy. instead, without hesitation, he kneels and does exactly what you want.
and you lean closer—too close—watching him work, feeling weirdly fluttery and warm because jake listens to you in a way no one else does.
you don't know what it means at that age.
you just know it feels special.
later, when a group of older kids tries to take over your half-finished castle, you puff up, ready to argue—but jake steps in first.
"this is ours," he says firmly.
the kids back off and you stare at him like he's a superhero.
you don't understand your feelings, not then. but years later, lying in his bed with his arm around you, remembering the way nine-year-old jake defended your ugly sandcastle like it mattered?
you finally get it. it started there. it always started there.
back to present
you wake fully with a heavy breath and a heavier realization, you want to tell him. you want to admit it. you want to say something terrifyingly real like i think i've liked you since we were kids or i don't want last night to be a one-time thing or i want you.
and that's the problem.
because wanting is easy. saying it out loud is not.
so when jake shifts behind you, murmuring softly into your hair, "morning..." in that gravelly, post-sleep voice.
you panic. full feral panic.
you slip out of his arms, ignore his sleepy protest and practically flee the room.
you don't make eye contact during breakfast.
you don't sit near him. you don't let him touch you, even though he tries—a hand on your waist, a brush of his fingers, small things that make your breath hitch.
he notices. of course he notices. he doesn't push, though. he just watches you with that calm, frustrating, evolved-from-childhood patience.
"everything okay?" he asks at one point.
you say, "yep!" like an idiot and then walk away before you faint.
cowardice: 1
you: 0
you're on the couch later, pretending to scroll your phone, doing a terrible job of acting normal. jake is in the kitchen, on speakerphone, fixing something near the sink.
you're not listening. until you are.
because a girl's voice floats through the speaker—bright, flirty, familiar.
"so you're free this weekend?"
you freeze. jake hums. "yeah, probably."
the girl laughs. "good. i was hoping we could go out again."
again? AGAIN??
your vision goes sharp. hot. you sit up so fast your neck cracks.
jake notices the sound and glances over his shoulder—but you're already looking at him with an expression that could kill crops.
he mouths, 'what?' you don't answer.
the girl keeps talking. "my friends keep asking about you," she giggles. "they think you're cute."
you go still. silent. dangerously silent.
jake's eyes flick to your face and something about your expression makes him stand up straighter, makes his brow pull slightly together.
"uh—" he clears his throat. "can i call you back?"
"sure! text me later."
he hangs up and the kitchen goes too quiet. he wipes his hands on a towel and steps toward you slowly, cautiously, the way someone approaches a wild animal that might bite.
"hey," he says softly.
you don't respond. you just stare at him, jaw tight, heat ticking under your skin in a way that feels feral.
"that was... a friend," he offers.
you blink once. just once. but your eyes are sharp and possessive and nothing like the bratty irritation he's used to handling.
he stops walking. "what's going on?" he asks gently.
and that's when it hits him—the realization flickers across his face.
your posture. your eyes. the way you're holding your phone like you want to throw it at the wall.
you're jealous. not playful jealous. not the type of jealousy you showed at the park when mina, mona, mia whatever the fuck her name is was hitting on him. not petty jealous. real, territorial, chest-tightening jealous.
and jake has never seen you like that. his breath changes. his shoulders straighten. his whole energy shifts—calm, sure, controlled, like something in him clicks perfectly into place.
"come here," he says quietly.
you don't move. your throat is tight. your stomach is hot. everything in you is wound too tight to speak.
"come here," he repeats, firmer this time but still soft.
you finally stand. slow. tight. bristling with emotion you don't know how to name yet.
you walk toward him until you're only a foot away, eyes burning into his. he looks down at you—and there's something in his gaze you've never seen before.
and then—you can feel him watching you. that stupid half-smirk, that stupid relaxed posture like he didn't just back you against the counter a few days ago, hands on your waist, voice warm enough to melt your spine. like he didn't murmur things that have been replaying in your head nonstop.
and what makes it worse? he looks so unbothered. like he knows something you don't. he always does.
"you're awfully quiet," he says from the couch, leaning his head back like he's bored. "you only shut up when something's bothering you."
you glare at him. "nothing's bothering me."
"mm." his eyes drag lazily up your legs, slow enough to make you want to throw something at him. "so it's just your attitude that's loud today."
"jake."
"what?" he grins. "you get weird whenever someone gets too close to the truth. you always have."
you cross your arms, heat rushing to your cheeks. "don't start."
he sits up like he's been waiting for that.
"start what? pushing you?" a shrug. "you like when i do that."
you hate how your pulse jumps. you hate how he hears it. "you're so full of yourself."
"no," he says softly, "i just know you."
and the way he says it—warm, sure, familiar—makes your stomach twist in that embarrassing way you can never hide from him.
you turn away, but he laughs under his breath.
"see? there it is." he shuffles and steps in front of you, tilting his head. "that little flinch. the one you get when you're about to run your mouth but you don't know how to without admitting something."
"i don't have anything to admit," you snap—too fast, too sharp, too obvious. he raises a brow.
"okay," he murmurs, stepping closer, "then tell me why you've been avoiding looking at me since i had you pinned against that sofa with my cock deep inside of you."
you almost choke at his vulgarity.
"i— that— that was—"
"yeah," he says, eyes dropping to your mouth, "exactly."
you push his shoulder, out of pure panic. "shut up."
he laughs, catching your wrist midway, gentle but firm. "that's what i mean."
your breath stutters. "you've always been like this," he says, voice low. "bratty, loud, impossible. acting like you're the one in charge. you'd push me around, yell at me, boss me around—" his thumb brushes your pulse. "—and i loved every second of it."
your heart stops. you meet his eyes, stunned, and he smiles like he's been waiting years for that reaction.
"you liked that?" your voice cracks.
"of course i did." his tone warms, softens. "i loved that you treated me like i was yours without even realizing it."
your face burns and you whisper, "then why won't you let me do it anymore?" he steps in—close enough to feel his breath on your lips.
"because," he murmurs, "i finally realized something." your throat tightens. "what?" his eyes drop to your mouth, slow... deliberate.
"it's fun being pushed around by you," he says, "but it's even more fun watching you fall apart when i push back."
your knees go weak. he notices—of course he does—and his hand slides to steady your hip, fingers pressing just enough to make your breath catch.
"see?" he whispers. "this is why i don't mind waiting for you to confess." you swallow hard. "i'm not confessing."
"you already are."
"no i'm—"
"you are." he smirks. "and you'll say it any minute now." your eyes narrow. "you're impossible."
"mm. and you like me."
your face flames. "shut up." he leans in, lips brushing your cheek—not a kiss, but close enough to ruin you.
"say it," he murmurs. "c'mon. you've been holding it in for years." you shove him again—weakly this time. "god, jake, you're so—"
"annoying?" he offers.
"cocky."
"you like that too."
you groan in frustration. "fine! okay? i like you. i've liked you for a long time. happy now?"
his breath hitches—barely—but you feel it. then he smiles—slow, victorious, soft around the edges.
"very."
you try to look away but he catches your chin with two fingers. "hey," he whispers, "look at me."
you do and his voice drops—deeper, rougher. "you think i didn't know?" a slow shake of his head. "i've always known."
your pulse pounds. "and i didn't say anything," he admits, "because you... being like this? all flustered and mouthy and stubborn? it's the cutest thing in the world."
your knees actually wobble and his grip tightens.
"and now that i know you want me too..." he leans in, lips barely brushing yours—never quite touching. "...i'm gonna enjoy every second of this."
and then he kisses you. not careful. not patient. like he's been holding himself back for years and finally lets the dam break.
your back hits the counter, his hand sliding into your hair, tilting your head exactly the way he wants. he drinks in the little gasp you make, smirking against your mouth like he knew it'd happen.
you try to kiss him harder, try to take control, but he catches your wrists—pinning them lightly above your head, just enough pressure to make your stomach flip.
"see?" he murmurs against your lips. "told you. it's fun pushing you around." you whimper—quiet, involuntary. his lips curve. "there she is."
he kisses you again, slower this time, deeper, his mouth warm and sure and maddeningly steady. like he wants you to feel every second of it.
when he finally pulls back, your wrists are still caught in his hand, your chest rising and falling too fast.
he brushes his nose against yours, smiling softly—smug, but affectionate. "you can push me around later," he says, "but right now... let me have this."
you bite your lip, trying not to melt.
"jake?"
"yeah?"
"don't stop."
his smile is lethal. "wasn't planning to."
— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!
𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — october’s cold bite brings out the ghosts, the parties, and the wild in everyone but you’d rather vanish than join the crowd. one haunted house party, one stolen motorbike, and one impossible boy later, you find yourself tangled in a night of dares, heated bets, and secret corners where every shadow feels like a dare. what starts as a brush with danger becomes a halloween tale of risk, pleasure, and being finally, truly seen. sometimes the scariest thing isn’t the dark, but what happens when you let yourself want more. or; when you try to ditch sunghoon’s halloween party he accuses you of stealing his bike, and before you know it, he’s giving you riding lessons, on and off the motorbike.
𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — explicit language, rough sex, public sex (party/bathroom/garage), face riding, nipple play, heavy grinding, mutual masturbation, oral (f/m), risky sex, dom!sunghoon, possessiveness, jealousy, spanking, slapping, hair pulling, spitting, dirty talk, praise/degradation kink, mild choking, orgasm control, overstimulation, riding kink (literal and metaphorical), clothing/lingerie kink, slight exhibitionism, voyeurism, minor dub-con vibes (consensual but high pressure), sex under the stars, pool sex, food play (kitchen), alcohol use, mentions of sex addiction, hints of competitive fucking, biting/marking, aftercare, light humor, multiple rounds, light angst, halloween party themes, wild chemistry, intense eye contact, motorbike as a prop, very vocal reader, emotional vulnerability, catharsis through sex, heavy makeouts, accidental romance, feeling seen for the first time.
listen to 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 🎃
The cold hits harder out here than you expected, a knife-edge wind slicing through the thin satin of your costume until your teeth chatter. You curl forward, shoulders hiked like you’re trying to fold yourself into a smaller target, one arm clutching the neckline in place, the other white-knuckling your phone as you bounce from rideshare app to rideshare app. Each rejection pings through you like a bruise: No drivers available in this area. Of course not, it’s past midnight, you’re half a mile from campus in a suburban stretch no sane driver cruises after Halloween. Your shoes, strappy, glittery, chosen for possible fun, not actual mileage, grind tiny rocks into your heels every time you shift your weight, and you feel each sting all the way up your calves. Behind you, the bass thrums in your bones, a relentless heartbeat you want to outrun but can’t.
From the cracked doorway you left ajar in your rush, you catch neon slices of party light: strobing orange, sickly green. The smell of sugary punch laced with cheap vodka drifts out in sticky waves, hazed with smoke and that unmistakable tang of too many bodies packed too close. You’d lasted maybe twenty minutes inside, long enough to see two strangers giggling on the staircase as they unzipped each other’s costumes, long enough to watch a couple you think you’ve seen in your econ lecture full-on tongue each other in the pantry beside the plastic-wrapped loaf of Hawaiian rolls. Someone had already spilled an entire cauldron punch bowl, raspberry-red tide creeping across the hardwood while three different people filmed it instead of helping. The music was a remixed early-2000s hit, pitched high and cruel, a relentless pulse that made your temples throb like they were trying to hammer their way out.
Out here, the party house has a warped, storybook charm, its two stories blurred with orange string lights and half-sagging cobwebs, plastic skeletons swinging crookedly from the porch beams, caught in the wind like marionettes abandoned mid-dance. The front steps are crowded with carved pumpkins, some masterpieces, some crude, all grinning with flickering teeth, candlelight twitching behind jagged mouths. Every window pulses with the blur of movement, staccato silhouettes framed by haze and music, a thousand tiny dramas happening behind smudged glass: someone jumping onto a friend’s back, a flash of bare thigh as a costume rides up, a glittering mask tossed aside. Laughter rises, shrill and wild, then drops into a bassline rumble that rattles the panes, the house itself seeming to sway with every surge.
You shift your weight, heel sinking into the wet grass, feeling the chill leak through your tights. The tombstone at your ankle—R.I.P. GOOD GRADES, black marker slanted, makes you snort quietly, a bubble of bitter amusement rising as you imagine your transcript going six feet under by morning. Another gust claws at the hem of your dress, dragging satin up your thighs, and you jerk it down, face burning with the self-consciousness of a kid who thinks the whole world is watching. The truth is, no one’s looking. You’re invisible out here, a scrap of shadow on the fringe of something riotous and glowing. The laughter from inside feels both inviting and pointed, like a joke you’re not in on. You fold your arms tighter across your chest, cold gnawing through the thin costume, phone clenched so hard your knuckles ache.
You can hear everything, even with the door mostly closed, the off-key chorus of a group shotgunning punch in the kitchen, the shriek of someone spotting a friend in matching fangs, the groan of floorboards under too many stomping boots. Once or twice, someone opens the door and a sheet of sound pours out: old pop remixed with horror-movie effects, giggles that burst and scatter across the lawn before vanishing. From your place in the dark, you’re neither guest nor stranger, just the negative space around the party, a half-forgotten margin between porch lights and street. You watch the light flicker over the lawn, golden and syrupy, and wonder if it would swallow you whole or spit you back out if you tried to re-enter.
You shift again, the ache in your feet growing sharper, shoulders curled forward against the wind. You can smell the sweet reek of fake cider, pumpkin guts, sweat, something fried and overcooked wafting out the kitchen window. The sound of glass shattering, cheers follow, then a thud. Someone’s already made a mess of the living room, you’re sure. Inside, everyone’s burning hot and too loud, while out here, the night clings to you, cool and damp, and you swear you can hear your own heart louder than the music. It’s the peculiar ache of being somewhere you’re not wanted, but not brave enough to leave for good, just stuck, in between, shivering while the party goes on without you.
You stare down at your phone, thumb hovering, willing a rideshare to appear out of thin air. You’d give anything to be back in your bed, mismatched socks and pumpkin-scented sheets, watching something soft and safe under a pile of blankets. Instead you’re here, on the fringe of someone else’s fun, and even the skeleton on the porch seems to laugh at your expense. You came because Mira wouldn’t let up, weeks of “please, just this once,” all her puppy-dog eyes and promises of fun, until you caved. She’d wanted you in something cute, something that would “make guys jaw drop,” but mostly you just wanted her to stop begging. Now you’re cold, alone, haunted by the echo of her laughter somewhere inside, regretting every step that brought you here. You never belonged at parties like this; you don’t want to flirt with strangers or drink until the world goes blurry. The truth is, you regret letting yourself be convinced you could slip into someone else’s story for a night, and all you want is to disappear back into your own.
Your phone glows blue against your frozen palm, thumb twitching with every failed attempt at summoning a ride. The screen flickers, mocking your desperation with its pulsing “no drivers available.” Each try makes your hands shake harder, nerves tangled with cold and something rawer, embarrassment, maybe, or just the ache of being so pathetically out of place. Wind slices down the street, swirling around your bare legs, catching at your skirt, making you shiver so hard your teeth knock. Overhead, the porch lights pour orange into the darkness, smudging everything in the tint of jack-o-lanterns; your breath comes in little clouds, white against the chrome tank of the bike beside you. The metal gleams, slick and beautiful, reflecting broken fragments of party light. bodies moving behind frosted windows, teeth bared in laughter, the blur of devil horns and fishnets in every glass pane. You press closer to the seat, the machine thrumming quietly in the chill, its silhouette a hard comfort beside the wild warmth you’re locked out of.
You’re pressed against the bike without thinking, letting the warmth of the metal seep into your skin. Your brain barely registers that it’s a stranger’s ride, you just know it feels good to lean here, like it’s the only thing anchoring you in the cold. The bike is a silent furnace in the October dark, its black-chrome tank radiating the leftover heat of a vanished rider, and you find yourself pressed to it like bruised fruit to a warming windowsill, heedless of propriety, grateful for any spark that staves off the night’s bite. The metal hums under your corseted ribs, reflecting candle-orange jack-o’-lantern glows so that your satin witch skirts shimmer like spilled potion across a cauldron’s rim; every breath fogs the mirror-shine, a ghostly charm you can’t help tracing with chilled fingertips. It smells of gasoline and clove-sweet cologne, a contradiction as sharp and steady as a heartbeat, promising movement even while standing still. Somewhere inside the house, bass and laughter crash like storm surf, but out here the machine’s quiet authority feels like an oath: if darkness wanted a steed, this would be it, sleek, predatory, patient, waiting for the figure who commands it to step from shadow and claim both engine and the girl foolish enough to lean against its ribs for warmth.
You don’t hear footsteps at first, just the slow scrape of something heavy over loose gravel, a metallic chime threading through the wind. It’s the kind of sound that prickles at the back of your neck, not quite alarming, just enough to set every sense on edge. For a heartbeat you imagine it’s nothing, just the house shifting, the wind knocking something over, but then it comes again: deliberate, boots rolling stone, steady as a metronome. It slices through the chorus of party noise, sharp as a knife against glass. You press closer to the bike, letting the engine’s leftover heat bloom against your thighs, comfort and tension mixing in your chest. In the haze of porch lights and swirling fake fog, you glimpse a silhouette moving between parked cars, broad shoulders, tall frame, a slow and certain gait that seems almost out of place in a yard full of drunken, tripping shadows. He isn’t hurrying; it’s as if he owns the night, or at least the piece of it you’re trying to disappear into.
There’s a chill in the air, cold enough that your breath smudges the chrome when you exhale, and for a second you almost resent how safe you feel pressed to this machine. Like the bike is a wall between you and the chaos, or maybe a bridge, letting you float in the space where things might shift. The motorbike’s frame is smooth beneath your palm, the black paint glossy, reflecting the orange flicker of carved pumpkins and the gold edge of a too-late moon. You let yourself linger, hiding in the outline of a life you don’t live, heartbeat syncopated with the metallic hush behind you. A shadow stretches over your shoulder. You sense him before you ever look, something in the air tightens, a shift, a hush, your nerves winding up. He stops just outside your peripheral vision, close enough that the warmth of his body eclipses the bite of October air, close enough that you smell the faint tang of leather, sweat, and sugar from inside. You don’t move, don’t breathe, don’t look, hoping for a moment that if you don’t acknowledge him, the world will hold its breath with you.
Then his voice breaks the quiet, low and careful, not quite mocking but edged with challenge. “Didn’t peg you for a thief.” The words curl between you, slow and dangerous, sliding under your skin like a secret. Only then do you glance up, finally facing him in the dim light, he’s not just any boy at the party, not just another student fading into the night. He’s something darker, sharper, carved from shadow and sweat, every inch of him humming with the kind of attention that makes you wonder if you’ve just been chosen, or hunted.
You’re face to face with Park Sunghoon, and even in the bad porch light, you can’t pretend he’s anything less than beautiful. He’s the kind of campus legend whose name is always half-whispered, half-worshipped: everyone knows someone who’s slept with him, fought with him, wanted to be him, wanted to ruin him. The upperclassmen swap stories about the time he bench pressed a whole rugby team for charity, or that night he disappeared with two girls and came back grinning, lipstick-stained, not a hair out of place. His jaw looks cut from stone, hair tousled and a little wild, eyes rimmed dark with exhaustion or maybe just the shadow of too many nights like this one.
Every line of his is built for attention, broad shoulders filling out the tactical jacket, long fingers loose and confident at his side, the quiet sort of power that says he doesn’t need to try, because everyone’s already looking. You tell yourself he’s just another campus cliché, a heartthrob in a crowd of a thousand, but your heart still skips when he gives you his full attention, gaze skimming over your bare thighs, pausing at your mouth like he’s reading your secrets there. Park Sunghoon, the name that floats through every corridor, scrawled on bathroom stalls and whispered in stairwells. Heartthrob, rumored bad influence, the reason half your classmates even show up for lectures some days.
His group is legendary in the way popular boys always are, untouchable, glossy, all gravity and golden-hour confidence. They’re sprawled across every soft surface inside, Jake’s laughter bouncing off the ceiling, Jay flicking bottle caps at Heeseung, who’s busy texting three people at once. Jungwon always tries to pull new faces in, but even he can’t break the circle’s spell. You’d never admit it out loud, but you don’t really like them; it’s the easy entitlement that grates, the way they move through parties like the floor tilts for them, the private language of in-jokes and glances that leave everyone else as an afterthought. Still, you watch them, everyone does. Every glance is loaded, every dare filthier than the last, the air around them thick with things that never make it onto Instagram stories. Sometimes you catch yourself eavesdropping on their whispered bets, who’ll fuck in the backyard, who’ll hook up in the guest room, whose ex is coming back for another round.
It’s a little disgusting, how much you don’t want them to notice you. The idea of being just another girl on their lips, their attention, their approval, the sharp appraisal in their eyes, makes your skin crawl. Sunghoon and his group are infamous for a reason: they dominate every room, weaving inside jokes and filthy dares, surveying every girl as if she’s on offer for their amusement. The last thing you want is to become part of their legend, another conquest, a story for them to laugh about the next morning. You’d rather be invisible, anonymous, just a background blur they forget by sunrise. Tonight, the worst outcome would be to have his eyes linger on you, for all the wrong reasons, only to be discarded, forgotten, left with the bitter taste of being used and nothing more. You’d take invisibility over their spotlight any night.
You might wish to disappear, but you’re not going to be invisible tonight, not with the way he’s looking at you now. Sunghoon’s gaze is impossible to ignore, heavy-lidded, shamelessly direct, as if he’s already catalogued everything about you worth having. He leans against his bike like he owns the night, boots planted wide, one broad hand casually splayed on the chrome, the other dangling his keys. There’s a cocky slant to his mouth, a flicker of amusement in the set of his jaw; he looks at you like he’s been expecting this moment all along, like he knows exactly how this story ends. It’s in the subtle way his eyes trace your silhouette, lingering on the way your costume, tight, vintage, a pin-up witch in midnight satin, clings to your hips and frames your legs in thigh-highs and velvet. His own costume is almost a mirror: black tactical jacket unzipped just enough to show the muscle beneath, his arms all sinew and power, the fake blood at his jaw making him look like he’s just come from a bar fight or a heist. You notice it now, the way your costumes echo each other, matching in their darkness and defiance, and for one breathless second, it’s like you planned it, like you belong at his side.
He doesn’t let the silence settle. “You stealing my ride, or just looking for trouble?” he drawls, voice low and edged with a teasing smugness that’s all challenge and none of the usual frat-boy bark. He flicks his gaze pointedly between you and the bike, as if the two of you are both just barely out of his reach, and grins when you bristle at the implication. “Didn’t think anyone could make leather and fishnets look this good except me.” The words are warm, gliding over you, and you catch yourself staring at the outline of his bicep under the sleeve, the line of muscle at his throat, the way every inch of him seems designed to be wanted. You swallow hard, trying to keep your expression blank, but your heart’s already traitorously loud in your chest. The bike at your back hums with his presence, the chrome cold through your stockings, and you realize you’re both reflected in its lacquered curve, shadow-twins in the flickering orange of the porch lights.
You try to step away, making your tone clipped, your shoulders set. “I’m not looking for trouble. I just want to go home.” The words are brittle as ice, and you keep your eyes fixed on the curb, desperate to avoid the full brunt of his attention. You gather your jacket tighter, shift your weight away from him, praying he’ll take the hint and leave you in peace. “I don’t need to talk to you, or anyone, actually. This isn’t my kind of night and it’s an even lamer party.” You mean for it to sound dismissive, but your voice cracks on the last word, betraying your nerves. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink, just lets the smile curl a little wider.
“Damn,” he says, feigning a look of mock offence, hand over his heart. “That’s how you feel about my party? Lame?” He gasps, a cartoonish, exaggerated sound, but his eyes stay sharp, glued to you. “It’s not a lame party, by the way. We’ve got a Ouija board, haunted jello shots, and someone threw up in a cauldron. That’s, like, three for three on Halloween bingo.” He leans in just enough for you to smell the lingering spice of whiskey and cinnamon gum on his breath. You’re so close now, you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the cut of his cheekbone where it catches the porchlight. There’s a new edge in his voice, something heavier, a dare behind the bravado. He tips his chin at you, lips curving. “So, let’s hear it. What’s got you so ready to run home? Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little fake blood and too many plastic bats.”
You snort, shoving your hands in your pockets. “Please. Your party smells like cheap vodka and somebody’s regret. I saw three people making out on the pantry floor. One of them might’ve been wearing a diaper, and don’t even get me started on the punch. Did you poison it, or is it supposed to taste like cough syrup and sadness?”
He grins, flashing teeth, shifting even closer so his knee bumps yours. “That’s our secret recipe. You just can’t handle the classics. At least nobody’s passed out in the tub—yet.”
You arch a brow, defiant. “Only because the bathroom door’s jammed. Pretty sure I watched Heeseung and some girl try to break in with a plastic skeleton arm. The music’s so loud my fillings hurt. And what’s with the playlist? If I hear Monster Mash one more time, I’m walking into traffic.”
He feigns horror, clutching his chest. “Monster Mash is a classic. It’s Halloween law. I bet you’re the type to skip Thriller, too. Besides, you could dance if you wanted.”
“I don’t dance at parties where half the costumes look like a fever dream. Jay’s in a toga and Crocs. Someone’s got devil horns and pajamas. What were you even supposed to be? Discount Batman?”
He laughs, deep and easy, voice dropping. “Funny. I thought you’d appreciate the tactical look. Didn’t realize you had such strong feelings about Crocs. You’re one to talk, what are you supposed to be? Kinky Elphaba?”
Your mouth quirks, heat rushing to your face. “Vintage witch, actually. Didn’t know you knew the difference between velvet and vinyl. I figured the only spell you could cast was making girls disappear the next morning.”
He leans in, close enough for your breath to catch. “Maybe I only disappear when I’m bored. And for the record, your costume’s the only thing keeping this party alive right now.”
You scoff, fighting a smile. “That’s rich. You throw this whole party and you’re out here harassing girls next to your precious bike? Afraid someone’s going to steal it, or do you just like the view?”
His eyes flick down, then up, slow and shameless. “I like a good view. Especially when it’s freezing and some gorgeous girl’s pressed against my seat, acting like she hates every second of it. I’m starting to think you don’t hate it at all.”
You cross your arms, tilting your chin. “I hate loud parties, cheap drinks, bad costumes, and boys who think they’re God’s gift just because they can grow a five o’clock shadow. But sure, maybe I’ll give you credit for the bike.”
He grins, looking at you like he wants to bite. “You can hate the party, but you can’t pretend you don’t like the attention.”
Your voice is soft, but edged. “If I wanted attention, I’d have stayed inside. Maybe I just like the cold.”
He steps even closer, so close the air shivers between you, the lines of the party dissolving behind him. “If you really wanted to leave, you would’ve already. Or maybe you’re just waiting for me to give you a reason to stay.”
You roll your eyes, but your heart’s hammering. “Give me one good reason.”
He smirks, lowering his voice, his breath warm at your ear. “I could make you forget you ever wanted to leave. Bet I could make you beg to stay.”
For a split second, it’s all sharp and electric, your glare, his crooked smile, the space between you thrumming with something wild. The party could fall off the edge of the earth and you’d never notice, not with his eyes pinning you in place. You shrug, forcing a dry laugh, the tension thrumming under your skin. “Big talk. But I’ll need more than cheap lines and Monster Mash to stick around, Park.”
He cocks his head, grin widening. “How about a ride? On the bike, or—” his gaze drags, deliberate, “—wherever else you want. I’m good with my hands.” The words hang there, filthy and funny and daring, and you realize you’re smiling back, your whole body wound tight as a bowstring, refusing to look away.
You’re silent, unable to look away from him. His eyes bore into you, daring you to call his bluff, to walk away, to break the charge that’s suddenly vibrating between your bodies. Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth. You can feel your own pulse thudding in your throat, the burn of his gaze heating every inch of exposed skin, the tension thick as smoke. The urge to say something, anything, is overpowered by the urge to just close the last few inches and see what would happen if you stopped pretending. The whole night feels head-fucked, every nerve jangling. You gulp, searching his face for a sign, for a warning, for something that might let you break free but all you see is intent, fixed and hungry, and you realize, with a rush that leaves you breathless, you don’t want to be invisible anymore.
He shrugs off his jacket with a casual flick, the leather warm from his body, and drapes it over your bare shoulders. His hands linger a moment too long, thumbs tracing the slope of your arms, fingertips curling at the nape of your neck to settle the collar. The gesture is unexpectedly gentle, almost reverent but the heat in his eyes makes your breath catch. “Can’t have you freezing out here,” he says, voice low and loaded, “not when you look that good.” You feel the weight of it, his scent ghosting over your skin, the jacket swallowing you up in his presence. For a second, you both go still, tension knotting tight between you, the world outside the circle of his touch blurring into insignificance. The party roars, but all you hear is the soft hush of his breath as he pulls the zipper up under your chin, knuckles brushing the hollow of your throat.
You smirk, trying to chase off your own nerves, “You’re so possessive about this jacket, your bike’s gotta be worse. Afraid someone’ll scratch it, or are you afraid I’ll look better on it than you ever did?” The words are teasing but shaky, colored by a strange, heady thrill.
He grins, all teeth and hunger, stepping closer, his hands moving to your hips without asking. “Trust me,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours, “that seat was waiting for you.” His grip tightens, bold, confident, and the implication is unmistakable. “And I like seeing you on things that belong to me.” The words hit low in your gut, wicked and forward.
You meet him glare for glare, matching his pace, refusing to break first. “You’d have to earn it,” you challenge, letting your fingers toy with the zipper, “and not just the bike.”
He doesn’t blink. He dares you with a crooked smirk, nodding toward the machine gleaming in the porch light. “Go on. Try it.” At first, you scoff, half-laughing, but something in his stare dares you to want it. Your hands shake a little as you straddle the seat, your dress riding high, leather warming your thighs, his hands steadying you, fingers sliding up your waist, guiding you, lingering, until there’s no space left between you. He steps up behind, fitting himself to your back, his chest pressed to your spine, breath hot at your ear. The chaos behind you intensifies, laughter and shrieks swirling around the porch, but Sunghoon’s touch makes the night fall away. The press of his body is electric, his hands molded to your hips, his chin brushing your hair as he leans in. “You look fucking perfect up here,” he whispers, the words meant only for you, the promise of everything he could do vibrating in the air between you.
All eyes are on you now, friends, strangers, half the party turned to stare, their voices rising in gasps and shrill disbelief, a flicker of phone flashes capturing the moment. People are elbowing each other, whispering, “Is she really—? That’s Park’s new girl now?” But you don’t care, not when his hands are sliding under the hem of your dress, adjusting your seat, making you feel safe and exposed all at once. He presses his lips to your ear, voice velvet and dirty: “Wanna know how it feels to really ride, sweetheart?” Every word tingles over your skin, promise and threat, and you shiver, whether from the cold or him, you can’t tell.
It hits you, suddenly, just how insane this is, straddling Park Sunghoon’s bike, his hands on your body, the party crowding the porch behind you, the night sharp and alive. You never thought you’d even talk to him, let alone be here, burning with want and daring, ready for something wild. The world outside your little orbit feels blurry, distant, unreal. You feel his breath in your hair, his thigh braced against yours, his presence filling every empty space in your body. There’s a sharp, dizzy certainty blooming in your chest: this could be the start of something dangerous, something real, something that belongs only to you and him. For once, you’re not invisible. For once, the universe is staring back, and it feels right, perfect, inevitable.
He leans forward, mouth ghosting over the curve of your ear. “I’ll make you a bet. I take you on a ride, show you what it feels like, what it means to let go and if you love it, you come back inside and spend the rest of the party with me. Let me show you how much fun you can really have.” His fingers flex at your hips, his mouth inches from your neck, eyes burning. You don’t hesitate. “Fine. But if I don’t like it—if riding isn’t all that, then you’re coming with me. We’re leaving, and you’re sitting through a double feature of every classic Halloween movie I own. Popcorn, pumpkin candy, and you’re not allowed to complain.”
His eyes crinkle, his smile dangerous and real. “Deal,” he says, the word rolling over you like a promise. “But just so you know—I never lose.” The world shrinks to this moment, this heat, this wild, reckless bet with the campus heartthrob, your heart beating in time with the engine you’re about to start. For once, you can’t wait to see what happens next.
The engine is cold and mean beneath you, the bike a beast between your thighs, chrome gleaming in the jack-o-lantern haze. Sunghoon is right behind you, his chest pressing into your back, the hardness of his body an anchor and a dare. He leans over you, one hand braced on your thigh, the other guiding yours to the ignition. You can feel his breath on your ear, the rumble of his voice so low you almost miss it. “Twist, baby. Not too gentle, but not all at once. Like you mean it.” His fingers curl over yours, large and certain, veins tight under his skin, and the contact shoots straight to your core.
“Scared?” he asks, voice so close it’s almost in your mouth, and you can’t help the shiver. The wind whips your bare legs, goosebumps rising along your skin, but it’s his touch that makes you tremble. “Or just nervous because you know I won’t let you get away now?” He laughs, the sound hot and cruel and proud, one hand sliding up to your waist to steady you as you shift on the seat.
You try for a smirk. “Are you nervous? That I’ll crash and ruin your pretty bike, Park?”—but your voice is thin, breathless, your whole body wound tight, braced for anything.
His laugh is low, a rich rumble against your spine, and you feel it before you even hear it. He leans in, lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice smug and deep. “I’m not worried about the bike, sweetheart. I’m more concerned about how wet you’ll be by the time we stop.” His hands glide down your arms, tightening at your waist as the bike idles, heat radiating from him in waves. “You think I’d let anything happen to you? I’d let this bike hit the pavement before I’d let you fall. Besides…”—his hips shift, pressing himself closer, unmistakable, hard, cocky—“I like a little risk. Makes it more fun when you hold on tight.” He nips at your neck, tongue flicking over your pulse, and you shudder, caught between fear and anticipation. You barely have time to gasp before he’s revving the engine, his mouth a wicked line at your jaw. “Show me how bad you want to ride, princess. I’ll tell you when to stop.”
Your cheeks burn so hot it’s almost painful, his breath catching as his words settle over your skin, thick and heavy, a promise and a dare all at once. You tilt your head back just enough to meet his eyes over your shoulder, your pulse racing, words caught somewhere between a challenge and a plea. “Big talk, Park,” you murmur, lips parted, your body already melting into his grip. “Maybe I want you to worry a little. Maybe I want to see just how far you’ll let me go.” Your fingers tighten over his, anchoring yourself in the warmth of his hands, the shiver in your voice making everything more electric. “Hold on, then. I hope you like the way I ride.” The wind whips past as you start to move, your heart pounding out a wild rhythm, his chest pressed to your back, his laughter rumbling dark and approving. For the first time tonight, you don’t care who’s watching, you just want to see what happens when you finally let go.
He reaches around you, his body caging yours, hand on the throttle. “You ride this right, you’ll feel everything. Hold on, don’t let go.” He presses his mouth to your ear, whispering, “If you fall, it’s on me. But I never let anyone fall, especially you.” The dominance in his words is thick, his palm bracing your hip, the weight of his thigh pushing you into the machine. You feel trapped and protected, wild and claimed, and it’s the kind of danger you’ve never tasted but always craved.
Just before the engine snarls awake, Sunghoon reaches behind him, fingers curling around a matte black helmet, and without a word he settles it gently over your head, brushing your hair back, buckling it beneath your chin with careful fingers. His gaze flicks up, sharp and serious for a beat, every cocky edge smoothed out by the way his thumbs linger on your jaw. “No one rides with me without this, princess. I plan on riding with you until we’re breathless, not getting you killed.” He grins, soft and wild, then slips his own helmet on, the click of the strap loud in the night as he swings his leg back over the bike, pulling you flush to his chest, the world outside the visor already fading away until it’s just the two of you, heat and wind and everything waiting to happen.
The engine coughs to life, vibrations buzzing straight up your spine, and Sunghoon laughs again, low and proud, a dark sound that thrums in your chest and somewhere lower, the sound of a boy who knows exactly what it is to break rules and bend bodies to his will. “Let’s go,” he commands, his voice all gravel and smoke, one broad hand curling under your jaw to tilt your head back, forcing you to meet his eyes. The porch lights flicker across his face, sharp jaw, eyes hungry, lips parted with something dangerous. “Look at me when I say it. You ready?” he murmurs, his thumb tracing your pulse, claiming every shaky breath as his own.
His hands guide yours over the throttle, his fingers splayed wide, palms swallowing yours, he wants control, but he wants you to feel it, wants you to know you’re not alone on this ride. “Throttle slow, then fast. I want to see if you can take it,” he says, voice curling over your skin, making you shiver even through layers of leather and lust.
You twist, too eager, and the bike jerks forward, the motion pitching you flush back into his chest. His hands clamp hard on your hips, holding you in place, fingers digging in, half-pain, half-possession, laughter curling through his body and into yours. “Easy,” he growls, his voice all dominance now. “Don’t fight it, let it move through you. Trust me.” He moves with you, hips rocking forward, pressing himself against your ass, the heat of him so blatant it makes you clench around nothing, makes you want more.
Every time you steady, he tests you, hips rolling forward, hands sliding up and under the hem of your dress, stroking the bare skin of your thigh, his mouth ghosting over your ear. “Lean back on me, baby. That’s it. Let me see how good you can be for me.” The dominance in his touch is overwhelming, your mind slipping out of gear, body burning with every command, every subtle flex of his hands.
The house fades behind you, the party noise swallowed by the engine’s growl and the rushing wind. Your thighs clamp tighter around the bike, your body rocking with the pulse of speed, and he’s there, hands never letting you drift, his mouth at your ear again, whispering filthy encouragement, the threat and promise of what he’ll do to you later. “That’s it. You like this, don’t you? Taking over my ride and letting me show you how it’s done?”
You giggle, a sound almost wild with adrenaline, “Can’t believe you’re leaving your own party for me.”
He answers, smug and bright, “The party was dead the minute you walked out. This is where the real fun starts.” You surge into the darkness, the wind stealing your breath, hair whipping around your face, your heart beating so fast it almost hurts. The lights fade behind, the night swallowing you both, and for the first time all night, you feel free, held tight, taught to let go, every inch of you pressed against the only boy on campus who’s never let anyone close enough to fall.
You can feel him, hard, thick, grinding up into you even as the bike rumbles forward, the vibration of the engine running right up your thighs and into the softest, rawest parts of you. Every time you ease off the throttle, he shifts behind you, hips rolling with the bike, cock pressing firmer through denim, making it absolutely impossible to ignore what’s coming or how desperate you already are. His chest pins you forward, the line of his body sheltering and daring you all at once. He laughs again, but this time the sound is right at your ear, half-mocking, half-hungry, and it’s so filthy and intimate you feel it echoing in your bones, a private message only you can hear. “Keep going. I’ll tell you when to stop,” he murmurs, the threat and the promise burning just beneath his words.
His hands never stop, one steering, the other sliding up from your waist to your ribs, fingers slipping under your dress, teasing the edge of your bra, calloused thumb tracing the dip between your breasts. You gasp, the bike lurches, but he holds you tight, laughing low, breath hot on your skin, every touch a dare. “You feel that? You like the way I fit behind you?” he taunts, his cock grinding harder, every bump in the road making you jolt back onto him, so aware of the friction, the heat, the want coiling low in your belly.
You shudder, knuckles white on the handlebars, legs spread around the engine, the wind snatching at your hair, dragging it across his cheek as he leans closer. “You ride like you fuck,” he hisses, hips jerking into you, the lewd praise making you ache, skin prickling with anticipation. “Little messy, a little too eager, but you make me want to lose control.” He drops a kiss at the base of your neck, tongue flicking over your pulse, teeth scraping just hard enough to make you gasp, your back arching into him, desperate for more.
Every stoplight, every sudden turn, becomes an excuse for his hands to find a new spot, to pull you tighter, his mouth dragging up your throat, whispering the filthiest things—how pretty you look like this, how wet you must be, how he can smell the heat of you even with the night air whipping past. “You gonna cum just from riding?” he teases, and the shame of it, how close you actually are, makes you whimper, hips rocking, the engine shuddering between your legs and his cock a relentless promise behind you.
You try to keep your composure, biting your lip, eyes burning from the rush of wind and sensation, but Sunghoon’s relentless, never letting up, his palm sliding down between your thighs, pressing against you through your panties, rolling his hips so you feel every inch of him, every intent. “Don’t slow down, baby. I want the whole street to know who’s making you lose it,” he rasps, one hand on your heart, the other on your cunt, the world shrinking to just this—his body, your want, the wild risk of it all.
The city blurs around you, neon streaks, orange streetlights flickering over wet asphalt, the roar of the engine swallowed by the sound of your own breath. You barely register the world beyond him, every sense overloaded by the feel of his hands, his cock, the heat of his mouth dragging along your jaw, the taste of danger and desire so thick you can’t breathe. You know you’ll lose this bet, you want to lose, and the certainty of that makes your skin buzz, every muscle tight, every nerve ending raw.
You tip your head back, riding the high, the speed, the risk, and feel him everywhere, his words, his touch, his hunger, so overwhelming you never want the night to end. For the first time, you feel yourself letting go, really letting go, surrendering to the wild, dangerous promise that only Sunghoon and his bike can offer. The engine roars, your heart roars louder, and you realize this is what it means to be alive—this freedom, this fear, this heat, this boy at your back and his cock already promising the next disaster you’ll both make out of each other.
You hit the open road, every muscle in your body locked with tension, every bump and turn magnified by the fact that you have no idea what you’re doing. But he’s behind you, all power and ease, his hands covering yours on the grips, voice low in your ear. “Just relax, you’ve got this. Lean when I lean. Trust me.” It’s strange how quickly you do. The first curve sends you tilting, a gasp catching in your throat, but his touch steadies you, his palm splayed across your stomach, pressing you back against him. The night air rushes over your skin, the bike’s engine is a wild animal beneath you, and you realize you’re not afraid anymore. You’re breathless, high on speed, on him.
With every mile, your body finds its rhythm. Your back straightens and a wild laugh spills from your lips as the wind whips your hair into your mouth. Sunghoon’s answering chuckle rumbles in your ear. “See? You’re a natural.” The city melts away, orange streetlights blurring into streaks of haunted color. You glimpse shadows of trees, the glint of moonlight on glass, the silver ribbon of river cutting through the darkness. Everything is in motion, bright and endless and fast.
You let your head fall back, air cold and clean against your throat, hair flying behind you like a cape. For a second, you close your eyes and let the world tilt and spin. Sunghoon’s chin drops to your shoulder, the heat of his mouth brushing your skin, “Open your eyes, pretty. You don’t want to miss this.” You do as he says, and the world explodes into sensation, stars caught in puddles along the road, the smell of earth and autumn smoke, distant bursts of laughter from backyard fires. Your giggle rises, unguarded and dizzy, and you feel him smile against your neck, pride and possession burning in his gaze.
You start to move with the bike, hips shifting with each twist and swerve. The speed picks up, Sunghoon leans in, his voice a growl, “Faster, yeah? You can handle it.” The pavement blurs beneath you, the engine roaring, your heart pounding so hard you feel it in your teeth.
You squeal, loud and unashamed, “Go! I want more!” and he obeys, one hand firm on your thigh as he pushes the bike harder, the two of you a blur of shadow and heat cutting through the night.
There’s a kind of reckless magic in this, every shiver of fear swallowed by the rush of pleasure, every trace of self-consciousness left behind with the party and its noise and strangers’ eyes. You haven’t let yourself be this unguarded in so long, maybe ever. The night is a movie reel, and you’re the girl who’s finally living, the bike, the needle that stitches every moment into your skin. You never knew you needed this, to trust, to let go, to laugh without thinking about who’s watching. Sunghoon’s hand tightens on your hip, fingers digging in as if to remind you: You’re here, you’re with me, you’re not going anywhere.
You catch glimpses of your own reflection in storefront windows as you fly by, wild hair, cheeks flushed, eyes wide and greedy for more. The cold bites at your exposed thighs, but you barely feel it, body humming from the heat pressed close behind you. Sunghoon’s mouth is at your ear again, a command and a promise, “You look good like this. Free. Happy. You should see yourself.” You grin, twisting to look at him, your noses almost touching, and there’s a moment, so brief and electric it’s almost painful, where you feel everything change between you.
The city drops away, replaced by dark stretches of road, houses spaced far apart, empty lots overgrown with weeds. The speed is dizzying now, your laughter mingling with the roar of the engine, a song that belongs only to the two of you. Sunghoon guides you with each shift and press, his hands confident, greedy, reassuring, and you let yourself fall into the motion, the heat, the possibility that this night might never end. It’s a bet you already know you’re going to lose—you’ll never want to go back to the party, not when you’ve tasted this kind of wildness.
The world feels infinite, time suspended between the streetlights and your own pulse. Every sense is alive—cold wind on your bare skin, Sunghoon’s body is a furnace at your back, the steady vibration of the bike beneath you. You lean into a curve, his arms caging you in, and for the first time, you feel unstoppable. This is more than escape, it’s surrender, it’s flight, it’s the start of something you don’t want to name. You press your head back, find his mouth at your ear, and let yourself whisper, “Don’t ever stop.” The night stretches out before you, wild and wide and open, and you know with aching certainty that you’ll follow him anywhere.
For a moment you aren’t a girl on a bike, you’re acceleration itself, a streak of untended starlight blazing through October’s velvet hush. Moon-silver air rushes over your teeth, and the raw grin splitting your lips feels bigger than your own face, as if your happiness can’t be contained by skin. You tilt your head back, eyes slicing upward, and the night answers in saturated color: bruisy indigo curling at the horizon, a slick ribbon of violet where the streetlamps blur, clusters of feathery gold stars pricking the black like lit confetti. The clouds, thin as sugar-spun dreams, drift past in bruised lilac and ghost-white strips, glowing each time they trespass across the moon. Every shade feels personal, poured directly into your marrow.
You realize you’ve been holding your breath for weeks—months—maybe years, the way a cracked teacup holds rain, always fearing the next tremor will make you shatter. But right now the tremor is freedom: the engine’s hum vibrating up your spine, Sunghoon’s laugh buzzing against your nape, the metallic rasp of wind yanking at your hem. Your lungs expand so wide it almost hurts, filling with cold, cinnamon-scented air, and you think: this is what it’s like to live in color instead of grayscale. You wonder how close you came to skipping it all, curling beneath a dorm blanket while October spilled its fireworks outside.
His hands tighten on your hips, steady, grounding, yet somehow a dare, don’t look away. So you don’t. The sky is a dark river and you’re a stone skipping its surface: brief, bright, reckless. You’re a jack-o-lantern’s candle, flame licking its own wax, never meant to last the whole night but burning as if that’s the only commandment. You’re every wicked little rumor that ever clung to his name, speed, danger, pleasure, yet here, under these storm-colored stars, those words turn tender, almost holy.
You laugh, wild, helium-light, half-sob because minutes ago you were desperate to vanish, and now you want to swallow the night whole. Every fear tastes small beside the taste of wind on your tongue. Somewhere behind you the party still howls, but it’s only background static now; the real song is the low thunder of the bike, his ragged breathing, the drumline of your heart. If the road never ended you’d ride it until dawn set the world on fire, until every bruise on the sky blushed pink. The thought strikes you: there’s so much left to feel, and you almost missed it. You squeeze his thigh, grateful, greedy.
Up ahead the streetlights scatter like molten coins across wet asphalt, and you swear the pavement itself shimmers, liquid obsidian, reflecting constellations even the astronomers don’t have names for. The future might be hiding in that shine, or maybe it’s pressed between your shoulder blades where his chest echoes your heartbeat. Either way, it feels like the night is only just cracking open, rich with possibilities that taste of gasoline, laughter, and want. You can’t predict where it will take you, but you know, deep in bone, blood, and spark-bright grin, you won’t be the girl who leaves early ever again.
His hand tightens on your thigh, fingertips pressing hard, almost possessive as the bike idles beneath you. The street behind blurs out, just the two of you straddling the engine and each other, your bodies tangled in the aftershocks of speed. Sunghoon’s mouth is close to your ear, his voice thick and lazy with pride. “Look at you,” he breathes, letting his teeth graze the edge of your jaw, “didn’t know you had it in you, riding like you were fucking born for it. You know how fucking good you look with your hands all over my bike, legs spread, hair wild, shit, you could ruin a man right here.”
You laugh, still giddy, your fingers tightening on the handlebars. “You like watching me take control? Thought you were the one giving the lessons tonight.” Your voice is teasing, but there’s a challenge there, a dare you want him to answer with more than words.
He laughs, low and cocky, his hips pushing forward so you feel the solid weight of his cock, hard through his jeans. “Trust me, I’m learning, too. Didn’t know how much I’d love this, watching you take it, hearing you squeal for me, knowing every pair of eyes at that party wishes they were me right now. This wasn’t on my bucket list, baby, but fuck if it isn’t my new favorite thing. Might never let anyone else on my bike again.”
You tip your head back, bumping into his shoulder, your grin wicked. “So you’re saying I ruined you?”
He smirks, thumb brushing up under your dress, slow and filthy, tracing the outline of your soaked panties. “Ruined, obsessed, whatever you want to call it. Never seen anyone take a ride like that, never seen anyone make it look so fucking hot. You got me all fucked up, sweetheart. Gonna need you on the back of this bike every night now.”
You hum, feigning innocence as you roll your hips back against him, breath catching at the friction. “You better keep up, Park. I might just be your best ride yet.”
He growls, leaning in, his tongue flicking at the shell of your ear, voice thick with heat. “Oh, you’re more than that. You’re my favorite problem. Don’t think you’re leaving my side for the rest of the night, not when you’re this fucking perfect, not when you ride like you’re made for me.” You laugh again, the sound shaking through both your chests, and you know he means it, every word, every touch. This isn’t just about the bike. This is the start of something reckless, stupid, and maybe exactly what you’ve been starving for.
You’re still clutching the handlebars, knuckles white, breath tumbling out in warm clouds. There’s a wildness in your chest you almost don’t recognize, something reckless and alive, a fizzing urge that overrides the usual need to control, to keep every feeling on lockdown. You’ve always been the girl who winds herself too tight, who keeps her edges sharp and her words neat, who never risks looking foolish or out of place. But right now, with your thighs burning from the ride, your heart battering your ribs, and Sunghoon’s hands everywhere, you feel loose, uncoiled, like you’ve finally let go of a weight you didn’t even know you were carrying.
You glance over your shoulder at him, laughing, hair a tangled mess, skin flushed and alive under the city’s neon haze. “I didn’t know I could feel like this,” you say, voice thick with disbelief and wonder. “I didn’t know I could let go. I’m always so—tight, so careful, and you just—” You shake your head, at a loss, because it’s never been this easy to be wild, to want, to take.
Sunghoon grins, wild and bright, his eyes burning as he watches you unravel. “That’s the point, isn’t it? You keep everything bottled up. Maybe you just needed someone to make you forget how,” he murmurs, his words soft but edged with heat, pride, and the promise of even more freedom to come. It’s not just the bike or the speed or even the sex, it’s the way you let yourself be seen, wanted, and reckless for the first time in a long time. Sunghoon’s given you that push, the one you would’ve never asked for, and you know you’ll chase this feeling again and again, every wild night, every backroad, every moment you forget how to hold yourself back.
You let out a squeal, high and bright, as the bike picks up speed, your laughter tumbling out before you can help it. The wind whips at your face, wild and sweet, but the rush isn’t just the night air, it’s him, Sunghoon, right behind you, his voice a growl of approval. “God, you’re so fucking hot like this,” he calls over the roar, the compliment ragged, almost a moan. “You’re cute when you’re happy. Ride for me, pretty girl. Let me see you let go.” The praise makes you giddy, makes you bold. You lean back, pressing your ass into his crotch, feeling how hard he is, feeling his hunger, how badly he wants you.
“Touch me,” you beg, the word spilling from your lips without shame, your body straining for more, for anything. “Please, Sunghoon, I want your hands on me, right now.” You’re giggling, desperate, dizzy, your skin buzzing from the freedom and the danger, the engine’s vibration everywhere. His laughter is low and filthy, his breath hot at your ear, and then you feel it, one of his hands never leaving the handlebar, but the other slipping right between your thighs, pressing into the slick heat already soaking through your panties.
“Fuck, you’re soaked. You’re so tight,” he groans, two fingers rubbing you slow, then fast, his grip steady even as the bike keeps moving. The road is a blur beneath you, the only real thing is his touch, his dominance, the way he makes you feel held and ruined at once. He keeps you balanced, guiding you with his body, his mouth never far from your skin. “You wanna cum for me? Here, like this?” he growls, his palm flattening, working you just right, thumb teasing your clit as you gasp, writhing, the world spinning out beneath your wheels.
Your nipples ache, hard beneath your dress, and he knows, of course he knows, his free hand sneaking up under your top, pinching and rolling the sensitive bud, his fingers rough and clever. You arch for him, a whimper sliding out, wanting more, needing everything. “Look at you, baby. You can barely ride straight,” he teases, and you can hear the smirk, feel the filth in every word. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you? You love when I touch you, when everyone could see if they just looked close enough.”
The moans spill from you, unashamed, wild, all for him, lost to the night and the thrum of the engine, the world reduced to the feel of his hand moving inside you, the sting and sweetness of his grip on your breast, his lips at your ear. “That’s it, pretty. Let me hear you. Give me those sounds,” he pants, his own hips grinding up against your ass, cock throbbing, ready to split you open the second he gets you alone.
You’re begging, mindless, all words and want: “Don’t stop, please, Sunghoon, I need more, I need you to fuck me, ” but you never finish, because he shoves two fingers inside you, fucking you slow and deep, thumb flicking over your clit until you’re sobbing, coming for him on the back of his bike, the world exploding in sound and speed and need.
He growls in triumph, biting your shoulder, still guiding the bike steady, never letting you slip. “That’s my girl. You’re so fucking perfect, so wet for me,” he hisses, his hand never stopping, still tormenting your nipple, still fucking you with his fingers, milking every last aftershock, every moan, every trembling gasp. The whole world spins out, wild and reckless and so fucking good, and all you can think is that you never want this ride to end.
It’s not just the engine’s roar or the wind tangling your hair that drives you wild, it’s the dizzy rush of being slightly drunk, skin humming, blood sugar-quick from too many shots and too many longing glances, that makes everything sharper, sloppier, more dangerous. The alcohol is a fuse burning low in your veins, a soft haze that loosens your tongue and dissolves every last inhibition; it makes Sunghoon braver, too, reckless in a way that borders on feral, all cocky smiles and bold hands, his laughter loud and mean and full of want as he pushes you further, faster, messier. Each gasp and grind is magnified, each dirty word and desperate kiss charged with the kind of wildness you only find when you’re both half-untethered. intoxication turning every brush of skin, every shared look, into a dare you can’t help but take.
The ride back is reckless, laughter and moans eaten by the wind, and you barely feel the ground beneath the tires when Sunghoon finally swings the bike up to the curb in front of the pulsing party house. The porch lights smear gold over chrome, heat swirling off the engine, the house a blur of chaos behind you but the world shrunk down to the fever between your legs and the press of his chest at your back. You kill the ignition, breathless, hair whipped wild, and the quiet hits so suddenly you laugh out loud, a startled, delighted giggle, hand clapped to your mouth, high off the speed and the risk and the boy pressed so tight behind you.
You lean back, letting your head loll against his shoulder, turning just enough to catch the outline of his mouth in the dark, the glitter of want in his eyes. The silence stretches, heavy with promise. He grins, all teeth and hunger, and you tip sideways until your lips brush his, tasting sweat, adrenaline, and the faintest hint of whiskey from earlier. He groans, low and broken, immediately surging forward to devour you, his mouth hot and greedy, tongue sliding deep, hands everywhere, pulling you down into his lap so the bike rocks under you, echoing every desperate thrust of your hips.
It’s clumsy and urgent, all knees and elbows and teeth, his hands squeezing your thighs, dragging you closer until you’re straddling him, skirts bunched up, the whole world condensed to the slick heat between your legs and the hard line of his cock grinding up against you. The engine is still warm beneath you, metal humming against your calves, and every time you move the bike bounces in place, a dirty rhythm that makes your breath catch and your vision blur. Someone shrieks with laughter near the porch but neither of you notice, locked in, lost, every nerve ending tuned to each other.
You can feel him, solid and throbbing, rutting up between your thighs, and it’s so filthy, so public, you almost hope someone’s watching. He’s got one hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back so he can bite down the length of your throat, sucking marks into your skin, growling praise into your ear. “You’re fucking wild,” he mutters, nipping your jaw, hips bucking up to meet every grind. “You gonna fuck me out here, princess? Let everyone see how bad you want it?”
Your answer is a moan, muffled against his mouth, fingers clutching his shoulders, grinding harder, riding the hard seat and his cock and the thrum of the whole damn bike. He kisses you again, open-mouthed and messy, spit slick between your lips, his hands sliding up under your shirt, thumbs flicking over your nipples until you gasp, arching into him, desperate for more. The house is roaring, the whole street alive, but you’re caught in your own little fever dream, hips stuttering, body electric with need.
You pull back for just a second, breathless, watching the way his chest heaves, eyes glazed with lust and something deeper, something hungry and possessive. “You make me fucking crazy,” he rasps, one hand slipping down, pressing against the soaked crotch of your panties, teasing you right there, in the open, shameless and proud. “I could do this all night. Would you let me, baby? Would you let me ruin you right here, just to show them all you’re mine?”
You’re whimpering, rocking into his palm, desperate and aching, every movement making the bike jolt beneath you, every gasp swallowed by his mouth. His teeth scrape your lip, his hips thrust up, and for a wild, endless moment, the whole world is just heat and need and the delirious, dirty joy of being wanted, of wanting him right back, your hands in his hair, his fingers inside you, the two of you wild and high and so, so alive in the Halloween night.
Your breath fogs, lips swollen, heart racing from the ride and the way your body is caging his in, one of his hands locked around your waist, the other tracing slow, lazy circles over your thigh. “Sunghoon,” you gasp, voice raw and greedy, “I want you—fuck, I need you. Can we please go somewhere quiet and let me scream for you? I want to fuck you so loud everyone in this town hears.” You’re not guarded anymore, not even close, just ruined by adrenaline and the night, the need thrumming through your veins like gasoline. You turn, mouth right against his visor, and beg: “Please, please, just take me somewhere—”
He grins, full and wicked, teeth flashing under the parking lot lights. “Looks like you lost our bet, pretty girl. And you know what that means, I’ve got to show you what a real party is before I let you ride me again.” He plants a slow, filthy kiss at the corner of your mouth, tasting your need. “Don’t pout. You’ll get everything you want. Just let me have you in my world first.” You groan, muttering under your breath, but you’re already nodding, already slipping your hand into his, letting him lead you back up the drive.
Walking into the house now, your entire body thrums with possession and hunger, Sunghoon’s hand huge and warm in yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles, the two of you moving as one. It couldn’t be more different from when you arrived, cold and invisible, hugging your coat to your chest and shrinking from every blast of music or snatch of laughter. Now the lights seem to blaze in welcome; heads turn, conversations stall, and the air is thick with something that wasn’t there before. You hear someone gasp your name, and a low ripple of “Is that Sunghoon with—?” runs through the crowd. There are stares, half-curious, half-envious, but you barely notice, the world narrowing to the press of his palm, the way he glances back at you with a look that says you belong to him.
Sunghoon doesn’t stop, not for anyone. He weaves you both through the tangle of bodies, the haze of spilled beer and too-sweet punch, and even though you know you’re suddenly the center of attention, you don’t care at all. All you feel is the weight of his hand, the way your chest brushes his arm, the way he glances down at you every few steps, eyes dark and proud and already undressing you again. The house hasn’t changed, there’s still the same chaos, the same heat, the same wildness crowding every corner but this time you’re not a ghost on the margins. You’re here, you’re seen, you’re wanted, and with him you feel untouchable.
He squeezes your hand, tugging you close, his lips at your ear as he murmurs, “Let’s give them a show, hm? Let’s make them wish they’d been the one to drag you out into the night.” And all you can do is nod, dizzy and gleaming, as he sweeps you through the crowd, no longer invisible, no longer alone, just you and Sunghoon at the center of it all, heat rising, promise in every step, your body already singing for what’s coming next.
The noise of the main room swells as he steers you through the crowd, his hand never leaving the small of your back, both of you brushing against bodies slick with heat and cheap cologne, the chaos a living thing. It feels strange, surreal, to be claimed in front of all these people, his hand guiding, sometimes squeezing, sometimes sliding just a little too low, as if to say mine. But his voice in your ear is quieter, coaxing. “Come on, I want to show you something,” he says, mouth brushing your hair, and you let him lead you past the crowd, trusting him in spite of everything.
He pulls you into the laundry room, flicking on a string of battery lights tacked over the washing machine, the sudden hush making your breath feel loud in your chest. Someone’s left a tray of cider shots on the dryer, apples, cinnamon, a bite of whiskey and he pours you each a glass, nudging it into your hands with a wink. “Most people never see this side of a party,” he says. “But this is where you get the best stories.” The light is soft and yellow, the air perfumed with detergent and the distant sound of bass. He leans back against the dryer, watching you, thumb brushing over your wrist, as you sip and feel the tension begin to ease. It’s so private, so removed, it almost feels like you’ve wandered into someone else’s memory.
The music changes, something slower and older, a song you half-remember from a summer you almost want to relive. He grins when you recognize it, reaches for your waist, and pulls you into his lap on the edge of the dryer. “Let’s have a dance, pretty girl,” he whispers, voice husky. You go willingly, legs swinging, his knees bracketing yours, the two of you swaying just slightly to the beat. The air smells like sugar and clean cotton, his hands smoothing up and down your back, and for a moment it’s as if you’ve always belonged here, folded into the heat and hum of the house.
After a few minutes, Sunghoon lifts you down and grabs your hand again, tugging you into a narrow hall lined with old framed photos and thrift store art, pausing at a door. “Attic’s this way. Hardly anyone goes up except my closest friends.” He flicks on a lamp at the foot of the stairs, and you follow him, your footsteps muffled by the thick runner. At the top, the attic is transformed: fairy lights strung overhead, mismatched pillows scattered everywhere, people curled up in little knots, laughing, sharing secrets, couples tracing patterns on each other’s skin. A few glance up, but Sunghoon’s presence makes room for you. He pulls you onto a heap of pillows, his arm around your shoulders, your thighs flush against his, both of you facing a window lit blue by the city outside.
“Look,” he murmurs, pointing out at the skyline, “you see that spire? That’s where Jake and I got locked out one night, and had to climb down the fire escape.” He starts telling stories, sharing tiny memories tucked inside each room, how Heeseung once slow-danced with a boy up here just to win a dare, how Jay wrote song lyrics in Sharpie on the beams, how the best nights are always the quiet ones nobody else remembers. As he talks, you realize how little you ever saw before, how the surface chaos of a party hides all these softer, stranger, sweeter corners. Your heart starts to calm; you can feel it physically, breath deepening, laughter slipping out more easily, the tension of the night draining from your shoulders as Sunghoon traces circles over your knee, always touching, always close.
You curl into a velvet throw blanket and Sunghoon’s side, letting him hold you, the two of you half-watching the slow, lazy dancing on the far side of the attic. At one point he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers trail over your cheek, and it makes your whole body hum. “See? It’s not all beer pong and bad decisions,” he murmurs, nuzzling your temple. “Sometimes it’s just… this.” He kisses you, slow and deliberate, lips soft but hungry, one hand sliding up your thigh under the blanket, the rest of the room melting away.
When you break apart, giggling and breathless, he pulls you even closer, fingers tangled with yours, and starts pointing out silly details, the sticker someone left on the lamp, the shoes dangling from a ceiling beam, the soft hum of a group playing a whispered game of truth or dare in the corner. Every detail he shares feels intimate, like a secret, and your heart twists at how easy he makes it to forget where you started tonight, alone, outside, cold. Here, with him, you feel warmer, lighter, like you might finally be letting yourself belong.
Eventually, he coaxes you up again, guiding you through the attic’s hidden exits, down a back staircase that lets out into a tiny sunroom full of dying houseplants and candles burned almost to the glass. He grins, squeezing your waist, and says, “If you ever need a break from the crowd, this is where I hide. Want to stay here a little longer?” The way he looks at you, soft, possessive, so sure, makes it impossible to say no. You let him settle you in his lap again, the two of you tucked away behind a half-closed door, sharing more cider, his hands never still, tracing patterns on your thighs, your back, your jaw, leaving you aching and giddy and wanting nothing but him.
He kisses you again, this time with a hunger he doesn’t bother to hide. Your fingers knot in his hair, your body pressed to his, the rest of the world gone fuzzy and distant, just shadows and candlelight and the thrill of being seen, finally, in all the ways that matter. You forget, for a little while, about the bet, about the crowd, about anything except the heat and weight of him, the little world you’ve carved out of the party chaos, a secret speakeasy, a blanket fort in an attic, a sunroom full of overgrown green. All of it, suddenly, just for you.
You sink into Sunghoon’s lap, straddling him with your knees pressed to the cushions, hands braced against his shoulders, the velvet throw puddled around your hips but forgotten. Your bodies align perfectly, his legs wide beneath yours, your chest flush to his, every inch of space gone in an instant. The room is a low-lit cocoon: candlelight flickering over floorboards, the muted thump of party music far below, but here it’s nothing but the heat between you. His hands slide up your thighs, thumbs sweeping under the hem of your dress, palms dragging you closer until your core is pressed to the hard length straining against his jeans.
You don’t answer with words, your hips answer for you, rolling forward, grinding down slow and shameless, feeling the heat and pressure build where you both want it most. He sucks in a sharp breath, head tipping back, and you chase his mouth, lips meeting in a kiss that’s already half-moan, half-bite. His hands are everywhere: cupping your ass, tugging you harder against him, tracing up your spine to fist in your hair, holding you in place as he kisses you like he needs to taste every part of you. “You feel that?” he mutters against your lips, letting his hips buck up, cock thick and ready under you. “Fuck, you’re so hotc so fucking wet for me already. I knew you’d be trouble the second I saw you leaning against my bike.” His words are a low growl, but his hands are worshipful, sliding up your ribcage, thumbing at your nipples through the thin fabric, squeezing until you whimper into his mouth.
Your grinding gets bolder, wetter, a rhythm building that’s just for the two of you. Every little friction sends sparks up your spine, your body wild for more, your breathing ragged. You pull back just enough to see his face, eyes glazed, lips slick, jaw tight with want. You lean in and whisper, “You like this, don’t you?” and he laughs, low and desperate, thrusting up to answer you with his body. Around you, the rest of the world could disappear and you’d never notice, all that matters is the way he holds you, the way his tongue tangles with yours, the slow, relentless drag of his hands under your dress and the unspoken promise that there’s so much more waiting once you finally leave this attic.
The world outside your little corner is still all raucous music, distant shouting, and the distant thud of feet on the stairs, but here it’s a warm, golden hush, every flicker of candlelight dancing across his jaw, every heartbeat close enough to taste. Sunghoon’s hand finds your thigh, long fingers squeezing, inching the hem of your dress higher. You tip your head back, breathless, lips parted, watching the shadows play over his face. His voice is low, smoky, barely more than a whisper: “You know, I was watching you all night. Out on the lawn, leaning against my bike. You looked like you were waiting for someone.” He presses his mouth to your ear, nuzzling, soft laughter rumbling through his chest. “Did you know it’d be me?” The words burn, heavy and sweet. You turn in his arms, facing him fully, and his hands settle around your waist, holding you steady as you straddle his lap, knees pressing into the pillows.
Your answer is a slow, deliberate kiss, your mouth finding his lips soft at first, tasting the cider on his tongue, letting him pull you closer until your chests are flush, until your hips sink down and you feel him, already hard, straining through his jeans. He groans against your mouth, biting gently at your bottom lip, and you let yourself melt into him, every inch of your body wound up, aching, hungry for more. His hands slide under your dress, palms hot and greedy, pulling you tighter, rocking you against the thick length of him, grinding slow and heavy, as if he needs to memorize the shape of you. He breaks the kiss, just enough to murmur against your jaw, “Fuck, you feel good. I could sit here all night with you just like this. No one’s ever looked better in my lap.” His breath is hot, damp on your skin, hands never stillc one sliding up your spine, splaying wide between your shoulder blades, the other dipping down to cup your ass, urging your hips into a deeper roll. You gasp, your body answering without thought, grinding down, letting the ache and the friction carry you somewhere shameless.
Your lips find his again, messier now, open-mouthed, teeth grazing, tongues tangled, each kiss more desperate than the last. He tugs your head back, exposing your throat, and leaves a trail of kisses, biting just hard enough to make you shiver. The blanket slips, pooling around your hips, leaving you open, exposed, glowing in the lamplight. “Tell me what you want,” he whispers, one hand guiding your hips as you move, slow and shameless on his lap. “You want more?” His words are a growl now, all need, all promise.
You nod, panting, nails digging into his shoulders, the world blurring into heat and want and the soft scrape of his jeans against your thighs. “I want you,” you say, voice raw. “Right here, right now.” He hisses, his grip tightening, hips bucking up, grinding you down, the two of you gasping into each other’s mouths, chasing pleasure in the secret hush of the attic, the party nothing but a heartbeat beneath your feet. He kisses you again, rough and deep, and everything else falls away, just the taste of him, the strength of his arms, the dizzy, perfect friction of your bodies tangled together, lost in the golden dark.
You’re ready to ride him, breathless in his lap, but before you can sink down, Sunghoon pulls back with a sly, taunting grin, his hands tightening on your hips to hold you at the edge of his lap, just out of reach. “Not yet,” he murmurs, his voice thick and low, heat coiling in every word. “You lost the bet, remember? I promised to show you how this party’s supposed to feel.” He sits up, shifting you off him just enough that your body aches at the loss, that empty throb making you want to whine. Before you can protest, he grabs your hand, fingers laced tight, tugging you through the tangle of blankets and across the attic floor. “Come on, pretty girl. You’re not leaving without a tour.”
You barely catch your breath before he’s leading you down the stairs, weaving through shadow and light, past half-dressed couples and collapsed partygoers. He sweeps you into the kitchen, chaos, sticky counters, trays of half-eaten snacks, a punch bowl looking suspiciously radioactive. He grins, snagging a loaf of bread and a bag of shredded cheese, elbowing a drunken Jake out of the way at the stove. “You ever had a grilled cheese this late?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer. “Bet it’ll ruin you for life.” He’s cocky, almost childlike as he fumbles with the pan, but there’s something soft in the way he glances back to make sure you’re watching, the way he leans close so only you can hear: “I make it better when someone’s looking.”
You tease him for his technique, swiping at the cheese on his wrist, and he retaliates by offering you the first bite, feeding you slowly, thumb brushing your lower lip. The kitchen is a storm of sound, someone yelling about spilled cider, glass shattering in the sink, laughter bouncing off the tile but with his hand on your cheek and the taste of melted cheese in your mouth, it feels private, secret. Sunghoon backs you against the fridge, lips crashing to yours, stealing the taste of your last laugh, vodka and sharp cheddar and something so fucking raw you shiver. His hands slide to your waist, hips pressing forward, grinding you up against the cold metal, the heat between your bodies making you forget where you are. Every pass of his tongue is dirtier than the last, the world blurring around the sharp edges of your want, your breath fogging the stainless steel.
Someone shouts from the other room, music blares, a new song pounding through the floorboards. Sunghoon just grins into your mouth, pulling away to catch your dazed, hungry look. “Still think you want to go home?” he asks, letting his hand fall to yours again. Before you can answer, he’s dragging you out of the kitchen, down the hallway, where most of the party has thinned. He fishes his phone out, scrolls for a second, and suddenly you’re alone in the biggest living room, the couch deserted except for a couple passed out on each other. He plugs his phone into the speaker, some slow, pulsing track filling the room, something sexy and lush and meant to be heard in the dark.
He finds you with his eyes, grinning, and tugs you into his arms, hands landing low on your hips, pulling you in so close your chest brushes his with every shallow breath. “Let’s see if you dance as good as you ride,” he teases, his voice velvet, and you can’t help but laugh, nerves and want fizzing through you. He starts slow, rocking you in time to the music, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispers filth, compliments, filthy things he wants to do to you, praise for how fucking hot you look tonight, how no one else in this house compares. His hands get bolder, sliding over your ass, fingers tracing the line of your spine, drawing you flush against the hard line of his body. You can feel him, thick, ready, pressing up against your core with every step, every sway. He kisses your neck, bites your shoulder, lets his hands cup your ass and grind you in time to the music, not caring that anyone could walk in and see.
There’s laughter somewhere, but its background, unimportant. You only hear the music, feel the pulse of his hands, your hips rolling shamelessly into his. It’s intimate, obscene, slow-dancing in the dark with the one boy who can set you on fire with just a look. When he finally pulls back, breathless and grinning, you realize your heart is beating out of your chest, your body begging for more, and you know the night is nowhere near finished, not with Sunghoon in charge.
You barely get a warning, a grin, a wicked glint in Sunghoon’s eye, before he tugs you away from the music and the chaos, down a shadowed back staircase and up another, the air thinning and cooling as you climb. The hallways narrow, overhead lights flickering, distant bass thrumming through the floors. He pushes open a heavy door and suddenly you’re hit with the hush of night, cool air against your skin, the city spread out in glimmering bokeh below. The rooftop is a secret garden, untamed: fairy lights strung haphazard over rusted railing, wind-worn deck chairs scattered around a square pool that glows aquamarine in the dark, steam rising from a sunken jacuzzi bubbling in the corner. No one else is here, just you, Sunghoon, and the hiss of water on tile.
He doesn’t hesitate. He drops his jacket on a chair, then peels off his shirt in one easy motion, letting it fall to the ground with a thud that feels more intimate than a kiss. Under the golden lights, his body is all shadow and muscle, pale skin glinting, dark hair wild above his brow. Every line of him is honed and unapologetic, broad shoulders tapering down to a tight waist, the muscles in his arms flexing as he moves, chest dusted with the faintest line of hair trailing down, stomach tight and cut with abs you want to rake your nails across. He smirks, undoes his belt with a lazy twist, slides out of his jeans, boxers following until he’s bare, no shame, no fear, just confidence and hunger.
His cock hangs thick and already hardening, jutting forward between strong thighs, the head flushed deep red, glistening in the half-light. Your throat goes tight at the sight, he’s beautiful, the kind of beautiful that makes your mouth water, your core clench, every inch of him made for sin. He catches you staring, one eyebrow arching as he fists the length slowly, spreading the slick with the pad of his thumb just to tease. “You gonna keep watching, or you gonna come take what you want?” he taunts, voice velvet-dark, making heat bloom everywhere in your body.
A low, greedy growl rumbles in your chest before you can stop it, hunger twisting through your belly. He grins, hungry and wolfish, drinking you in with the same unhidden need, the weight of his cock swinging as he steps closer to the pool. The sight alone has you pulsing, ready to sink your teeth into his shoulder, to taste salt and skin, to claim every inch. The way his body moves, so unhurried and certain, makes you want to drop to your knees and worship every line, every shadow, every drop of sweat. It’s almost feral, the way you crave him—hot and raw and desperate, a need that claws under your skin, threatening to eat you alive if he doesn’t touch you soon.
Your throat goes dry. You’re trembling from the cold, from the heat in his eyes, from the raw audacity of being here, alone, exposed, with Sunghoon. He grins wider. “Come on, sweetheart. No one ever finds this place. Only the good ones get an invite.” You glance at the skyline, at the empty chairs, heart pounding as you tug your dress up over your hips. The hem catches, and you flush, fumbling with the zipper, but his voice finds you: “Slow down. Let me see.” Your hands go still. You lock eyes with him, and the rest of your dress slides up, satin rustling, baring your legs, then your thighs, then your bare chest beneath the witchy corset you chose just for tonight. You toss it aside, goosebumps racing down your arms. You hook your thumbs in your stockings, rolling them down inch by inch, his gaze dragging over every inch of skin you reveal. By the time you’re bare, the night air is colder but your body is burning, your nipples pebbled, your pulse thrumming everywhere.
His eyes drag over every inch of you, slow, greedy, a touch of reverence mixed with unmistakable hunger, his gaze dips from your flushed cheeks to the swell of your breasts, nipples pebbling in the chill, down your belly to the soft skin between your thighs, the shadows hiding nothing, the goosebumps rising everywhere he lingers. He stares like he’s starving, tongue wetting his lips, jaw tensing as his gaze traces the curve of your ass, the arch of your back, the vulnerable line of your throat. “Fuck, look at you,” he murmurs, voice husky, eyes blown wide with want. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, messy, perfect, dripping for me.” For a moment you swear he’s lost language, just breathing you in, jaw flexing, cock twitching, hungry as a wolf, not moving until you come to him.
He crooks a finger, beckoning. “Come here. It’s warmer here.” You take a breath and step in, the water licking up your calves, knees, thighs, until it’s waist-deep and your body sighs at the sudden heat. Sunghoon doesn’t give you a second to hesitate, he meets you in the middle of the pool, hands finding your waist under the surface, his touch anchoring you as your legs threaten to give out. He drags you closer, chest to chest, skin to skin, the world vanishing until it’s just your heartbeat and his, the smell of chlorine and him, the stars reflected all broken in the ripples.
He tilts your chin up, grinning, hair dripping over his brow, his eyes so dark you could drown. “Thought you’d run,” he whispers, but you shake your head, breathless, hungry. “Didn’t think you had it in you.” You reach for him, hands sliding down his back, feeling the shiver that runs through him. He kisses you, slow at first, tongue teasing at the seam of your mouth, then deeper, hungrier, one hand tangling in your hair, the other sliding down your spine to cup your ass and pull you flush. Your legs wrap around his waist, your back arching, every inch of your body slick with water and want. The heat of the jacuzzi swirls around you, the city humming somewhere far below, but up here, there’s only the slap of water, the breathless hush between your moans, the quiet gasp when his cock grinds against your core.
His stare doesn’t let up for a second—you feel it, sharp and unblinking, grazing every curve, every patch of skin you’ve just exposed to the night. You try not to flinch under the attention, but there’s something primal in the way he watches, like he’s memorizing you for later, cataloguing every dip and hollow and inch of soft flesh he’s about to touch. When you finally step closer, the city lights painting you gold and silver, he lets his hands settle on your hips, drawing you into the heat of him, his cock hard and leaking against your belly, bodies flush and slick as the steam from the jacuzzi blurs your outlines. He doesn’t say a word—just devours, starting at your mouth, tracing your lips with his tongue before deepening the kiss, messy and slow, until you’re gasping. His mouth finds your throat next, nipping a bruise under your jaw, then scraping his teeth over your collarbone, biting the tip of your shoulder just hard enough to make you moan, then soothing it with a kiss. He trails lower, lips and teeth mapping you like a secret he’s waited all night to claim, and by the time he licks the shell of your ear, his hands have moved up, thumbing your nipples, making your head drop back, breathless and bare in every sense.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous like this,” he growls, nipping, licking, drowning in you, his voice raw. Your hands grip his hair, your hips moving against his under the water, grinding, desperate, chasing the heat that builds with every slick stroke. Your thighs tighten around him, holding him there, wanting more, always more.
He slips a hand between your legs, fingers teasing, sliding through your folds, finding you already soaked despite the water. “You gonna let me make you cum right here?” he murmurs, teeth flashing. “You want the whole city to hear you?” You whimper, nails scratching at his shoulders, biting back a moan as he circles your clit, slow and dirty, just how you like. His other hand cups your breast, thumb rolling over your nipple, tugging until you’re squirming, so close to falling apart already you could scream.
He kisses you again, swallowing your cries, his hips moving, grinding you together in the steaming blue water, the slap and swirl of it echoing off the tiles. “Hold on to me,” he whispers, his forehead pressed to yours, breath hot and ragged. “Let me take care of you.” And you do, you let him, you let yourself, lost in the thrill of being naked and devoured and seen, right here where no one else will ever find you.
The water sloshes around your hips as Sunghoon’s hands find your waist, pulling you down into his lap, every inch of skin meeting his, his cock sliding between your thighs, hot and heavy. You’re still half-floating, legs weightless in the warm pool, when his fingers find your clit under the surface, slick and slow, the pad of his thumb circling until you’re arching into his chest, mouth buried in his shoulder to keep quiet. The steam rises, fogging the air, your breaths mingling with the night as he slips a finger inside you, then two, knuckle-deep and curling just right, making your legs quake beneath the surface. He coaxes you, filth in every whispered word, “You want everyone in this city to know how good I make you feel, pretty thing?” before sealing his mouth over yours to swallow your answer. His grip tightens, rhythm cruel and perfect, and you lose track of time, every heartbeat pulsing against his palm, your body clenched and fluttering, thighs trembling around his hand as you come hard, biting down on his shoulder, stifling your scream.
He doesn’t let you sink back into the water. Instead, with a strength that feels possessive and adoring all at once, he scoops you up, water streaming off your skin, and lays you out on the cold stone edge of the pool. Your back hits the tile, the shock of it chased by the heat of his gaze, and you barely catch your breath before his hands are parting your knees, spreading you open to the night. The city sprawls behind him in a mess of neon and traffic, but all you see is the hunger in his eyes, the way his hair falls into his face as he kneels at the edge, mouth already ghosting over your inner thigh. He pauses just long enough to drink you in, fingers stroking gently over your slit, then dives in, tongue flattening against your clit, licking long and slow, savoring you like something decadent.
Every pass of his mouth is unhurried, deliberate, obscene, his tongue teasing your folds, dipping inside, then back up to flick against the swollen bud of your clit until you’re whimpering, fists tangled in his hair, heels digging into his bare shoulders for leverage. He groans when you writhe, mouthing curses against you, lips glossy with you, tongue never letting up, devouring every sound you make. The cold air hits your skin but you’re burning from the inside out, trembling on the edge of another orgasm as he sucks your clit into his mouth, humming low, letting his teeth graze just enough to make you cry out, all the while murmuring how sweet you taste, how filthy you look like this, dripping, ruined, spread out for him and only him.
Stars blur overhead, the city roaring beneath you, but the only thing that matters is his mouth—Sunghoon, unashamed and relentless, eating you out like it’s his whole reason for being. When you finally break, shattering in a rush of sound and sensation, he doesn’t stop, lapping up every drop, tongue gentle but insistent, anchoring you to the rooftop, to the heat of his body, to the wild, dizzying realization that no one has ever made you feel like this before. When you come down, breathless and boneless, his hands are there, steadying you, worship in every touch.
You barely hit the tiles before Sunghoon has you pinned, his mouth crashing against yours, teeth and tongue and hunger, your bodies slick with water and need. Your arms loop desperately around his neck, legs tangled at his waist, every kiss a collision, every gasp a promise. He stumbles you both through the dark, trailing wet footprints, groping blindly for a door, laughter and party noise echoing distantly behind you. Your nails rake his back, hips grinding against his as he fumbles the knob, shoves you both inside a cramped bathroom, and kicks the door shut with a shuddering slam. The lock clicks. He presses you flat to the door, mouth devouring yours, his hands everywhere, palming your ass, tugging you higher, fingers digging bruises he’ll kiss later. The need is dizzying, a heat that scorches your lungs, every breath a moan swallowed between frantic kisses, hips rutting helpless and greedy, both of you lost to the madness of wanting, desperate to fuck and tear the rest of the world away.
He grabs your jaw in one hand, tilting your face up, and spits right into your open mouth, smirking as you swallow it down, hot and filthy, your tongue flicking over your lips just to taste him. He kisses you hard, tasting himself, grinding you harder against the door so every ridge of his cock rubs through his jeans into your clit. “Open wider,” he commands, sliding two fingers between your lips and fucking your mouth, thumb pressing down on your tongue. “Show me how much you want it. Make it sloppy, baby.” You do, spit pooling on your chin as you suck him, moaning around his hand, your eyes rolling back at the roughness of it, the ownership, the way his gaze never leaves your face.
He drops his hand to your throat, squeezing just enough to make your breath catch, holding you still while he kisses down your chest, biting the soft skin above your neckline, leaving dark marks that will bloom into bruises. You arch, whimpering, hips rolling, desperate for more, your cunt aching, dripping, desperate for his cock. He grins, wicked and sharp, and slides his fingers back between your legs, smearing wetness over your thighs. “Can’t believe how much you’re leaking for me,” he murmurs, voice thick with pride and want. “Do you want everyone to hear how filthy you get when I touch you? Want me to make you scream for real this time?”
The porcelain sink bites into your hips as Sunghoon shoves you back, your dress bunched at your waist, your panties tugged off so fast the elastic burns your thighs. He doesn’t give you a chance to breathe, just drops to his knees on the grimy tile, his hands spreading your legs so wide the stretch aches. His mouth finds your cunt like he’s been starved for it all night, his breath hot and ragged, tongue flat and broad as he licks a filthy stripe from your hole up to your clit. He doesn’t tease, doesn’t flirt, just devours, tongue moving in brutal, greedy circles, sucking your clit between his lips, letting the messy slick and spit drip down his chin. He moans into you, loud and guttural, as if the taste of you alone could make him cum. You arch, clawing at the edge of the sink, your moans bouncing off tile, high and desperate and wet.
He slides two fingers inside without warning, curling them up ruthlessly, knuckles grinding against your dripping cunt while his mouth works like you’re the only thing in the world he wants to worship or ruin. Every flick of his tongue is frantic, his nose pressed into your mound, your thighs trembling on either side of his head. He pins you open, one palm splayed against your belly, pressing you down to keep you from writhing away as his fingers fuck you rough and deep, hitting that spot that makes you scream. He growls against your clit, “Scream for me, pretty baby, let them hear how fucking sweet you taste”—and you do, your voice raw, the whole party surely hearing your cries as you cum the first time, legs kicking, hands fisting in his hair.
He doesn’t slow, doesn’t let up, doesn’t stop to gloat. He just pulls you closer, nearly lifting you off the floor, tongue pressing inside you, fucking you with his mouth, the mess soaking his chin, spit and slick dripping onto the tile below. He eats you like you’re his last meal, like he needs you to survive, his hands squeezing your thighs so tight you’ll bruise, groaning into your skin every time you shudder or cry out. You lose track of your own noises, pleasure pouring out in filthy moans and half-words. “Please, please, don’t stop, need it, fuck”—and he only laughs, eyes gleaming up at you, pupils blown wide, devouring the sight of you coming apart.
He starts talking, filthy and low, every word vibrating through your cunt. “Look at this pretty pussy, dripping all over my tongue, you taste so fucking good, bet you’ve never been eaten like this before, have you? Bet no one’s ever made you cum just from their mouth, yeah? You wanna cum again? You gonna soak my face, baby? Show me how much you love being ruined like this”—his words half-mocking, half-worshipping, every line making you melt. You try to close your legs but he pins them open, spreading you wider, licking even deeper, nose bumping your clit as he sucks, tongue fucking you, grinding his face into you like he’s marking you for everyone to see.
When you cum again, it’s violent, your whole body spasms, thighs clamping down on his head, hips bucking so hard you nearly knock the sink loose from the wall. He grins, loving it, lets you ride his tongue through the aftershocks, never stopping, fingers still pumping deep, thumb rubbing messy circles on your swollen clit. “Good girl,” he breathes, “cum for me, fuck, do it again, want you shaking,” and you sob, tears running down your cheeks, every nerve ending on fire, pleasure rolling through you in endless, breaking waves. He slaps your thigh, hard, just to feel you jerk and cry out, the sting mixing with the ache and the want and the mess he’s making of you.
He’s relentless, licks you through every twitch, never letting up, using his spit to make you even messier, his hair sticking to his forehead, his cheeks flushed, eyes locked on yours the whole time. You’re babbling now, begging, not even sure what for, just needing, needing, needing, and he eats it up, hungry for every sound, every shiver. He pulls back for a second, eyes dark, mouth shining with you. “Look at you,” he says, “look how fucking ruined you are for me. You want more? Want me to spit in your mouth again? Want me to fuck you with my tongue until you forget your name?”
You nod, desperate, and he laughs, leans up to spit in your open mouth, then dives back down, tongue working faster, messier, sloppier. His hand slips up, finds your throat, squeezes until you’re dizzy, your moans turning strangled and high-pitched, your cunt squeezing around his fingers. He lets go just long enough to slide his thumb into your mouth. “Suck, baby, wanna feel your tongue”—then goes back to devouring you, his voice muffled, “Gonna make you cum for me again, I don’t care if you scream, let everyone fucking hear you, I want them to know you’re mine now, all mine.”
He keeps eating you out until your legs are shaking so badly you can’t stand, until you’re half-sobbing, half-laughing, your whole body tingling, the mess everywhere, on your thighs, his mouth, the sink, the floor. When he finally stands, his jaw glistening with your slick, he wipes his face on the back of his hand and smirks, looking at you like you’re the only thing worth having tonight. You’re a wreck, thighs trembling, voice hoarse, eyes wild and all you want is for him to ruin you all over again.
The door rattles in its frame, pounding and laughter echoing from the hallway, but neither of you move. Sunghoon stands, eyes glazed and hungry, his hands cupping your ass as he lifts you just enough to grind the thick, aching length of his cock right against your dripping cunt. The fabric of his jeans is rough, the pressure perfectly filthy, and you gasp, desperate for friction, thighs trembling as you rut helplessly against him. His voice is all low smoke, breath hot in your ear. “You want me to fuck you in front of everyone?” he whispers, thumb stroking the inside of your thigh, “Or do you want to get on your knees and show me how much you need it?”
Your answer is a broken whimper, but you slide down his body, tongue tracing the ridges of his abs as you go, licking sweat, teeth scraping over his skin, fingers digging into his waistband until you reach the bulge that’s been tormenting you all night. He yanks his belt open, jeans barely past his hips, cock springing free, flushed and leaking for you. You don’t hesitate, just take him in hand, spit already pooling on your tongue, gaze flicking up to meet him. He grins, cocky and wild, one hand sinking into your hair, gripping tight as he guides you to his cock. “Open up, pretty thing,” he growls, voice barely louder than the party outside, “Let me see how much you can take.”
You suck him deep, hollowing your cheeks, loving the way he shudders, the salty tang of him heavy on your tongue. His fingers tighten in your hair, pulling, making your eyes water in the best way. Every thrust of his hips makes you choke a little, spit and precum dripping down your chin, but you’re greedy for it, moaning around him, nose pressed to his pelvis, throat stretching for him. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he groans, “Look at you, drooling for my cock with the whole fucking house outside.” The bathroom door rattles again, someone’s yelling, pounding, but Sunghoon’s only response is to fuck your mouth harder, his other hand braced on the sink behind you, holding you steady.
You pull back, licking a wet stripe from the base to the head, swirling your tongue under the tip, making him gasp. He’s twitching, pulsing, desperate already, and you love the power of it, love the way he looks down at you like you’re the filthiest, prettiest thing he’s ever seen. “You gonna let me cum down your throat, baby?” he whispers, breathless, “Or do you want to taste it on your tongue first?” His hand is tangled in your hair, pulling your head back, making you look up at him, his cock smearing your cheek. You moan, sticking your tongue out, begging for it without words.
He slaps his cock against your tongue, leaking all over your lips, then pulls you up by the hair, making you gasp as he drags you to your feet. “Not yet,” he murmurs, “Want you screaming when I fuck you.” His grip is brutal but careful, a hand cradling the back of your head, thumb brushing your jaw as if to soothe. “Gonna ruin that pretty mouth, then bend you over the sink and make you take it until you’re crying for more.” His mouth finds yours, kissing you with teeth and tongue, the taste of his cock mixing with your own slick on his lips.
You’re shaking, wet and desperate, every inch of your body on fire as he turns you, pressing you hard against the cool porcelain, cock grinding into the curve of your ass. He lifts your dress, bare skin to the open air, and rakes his nails down your spine, making you arch and whimper. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs, “Love seeing you messy. Love knowing everyone can hear how much you want it.” His hand slips between your thighs, fingers stroking your soaked folds, spreading you open just enough to make you gasp. He leans in, voice right at your ear, filthy and soft. “Bet you’ll cum for me just from this, just from grinding on my cock while they all listen.”
The door bangs again, louder now, angry voices and more laughter, but Sunghoon just laughs low in his throat, eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. “Let them wait,” he smirks, “You’re not leaving this room until I’m finished with you.” His other hand finds your throat, squeezing just enough to make you dizzy, his cock rocking against your cunt, your slick already soaking his jeans. You whimper, grinding back on him, desperate for more, for everything. “Say you want it,” he whispers, biting your ear, “Say you want to be ruined with everyone listening.”
You manage a breathless, “Want it, want you to fuck me right here, make them hear me scream,” and he smiles, dark and hungry, tongue flicking over the shell of your ear. “Good girl,” he purrs, “You’re mine tonight. Only mine.” He sucks a mark into your neck, hand still tight in your hair, cock still pressed hot and heavy against your soaked cunt, every muscle in your body straining for the moment he finally gives in and takes you.
The bathroom is a wild, echoing chamber of sweat and heat, the thump of music and muffled shouts from the party pounding through the door. Sunghoon’s cock grinds against your soaked folds, the denim gone rough and sticky from your slick, his fingers threading through your hair as he breathes in the sound of your moans. He kisses you, hungry, biting, the kind of kiss that makes you ache for more even when you’re already trembling. “You want it so bad, don’t you?” he murmurs, his voice pitched low for you alone. “Bet you’ll forget your own name when I fuck you. Bet you’ll scream so loud the whole house will know who you belong to.”
Your body surges forward, desperate, greedy, hips rolling back to meet every shift of his. “Sunghoon,” you gasp, clawing at the porcelain, “please. Please, just fuck me. I can’t, I need it, I need you right now.” He laughs, dark and delighted, the sound vibrating up your spine. You feel the slap of his palm on your ass, sharp and stinging, and it only makes you wetter, your body bowing under the command of his hands. “That’s it,” he hisses, “Beg for it, pretty girl. Show me how desperate you can get.”
He yanks your dress up, leaving you bare from the waist down, your cunt glistening in the harsh bathroom light, so wet you’re practically dripping onto the tiles. His fingers dip between your legs, gathering slick, spreading it over your folds, just to hear the filthy sound it makes. “Fuck, you’re soaked for me,” he growls, lining himself up at your entrance. “You want everyone to know how needy you are? Want them to know I’m the only one who gets to ruin you like this?”
The head of his cock pushes inside, thick and slow, stretching you open inch by aching inch. Your mouth falls open, a strangled moan torn from your throat as he fills you, the world tilting, vision white-hot at the edges. You clutch the edge of the sink, his knuckles white, as he bottoms out, grinding his hips into yours, refusing to let you adjust before he’s pulling back and slamming back in, hard enough to make the whole counter shudder. “Fuck—so tight,” he groans, voice strangled, “God, you feel fucking perfect. Taking me so well, baby.”
You can’t form words, just breathless pleas and broken whimpers, every thrust driving you closer to the edge, his grip bruising on your hips. “That’s it, let them hear you,” he pants, rutting into you harder, the slap of skin loud enough to be scandalous. “Let them hear how much you love getting fucked by me.” You’re half sobbing, half laughing, lost in it, forehead pressed to the cold mirror, tongue out to catch your own moans as you watch the way his eyes burn into your reflection.
The doorknob rattles. There’s a sudden shout, someone’s trying to barge in, the handle wrenching, a flash of hallway light. You barely register it before Sunghoon snarls, pulling out, turning you, shoving the door shut with a slam that shakes the wall. “Occupied,” he barks, voice raw and ragged, and you’re giggling, high on adrenaline and shame and desire, watching him lock it again, his cock flushed, glistening with your slick. “No one’s interrupting,” he mutters, grabbing you, spinning you around so your back hits the door, pressing his body flush to yours.
His mouth is on your neck, your jaw, biting down hard enough to leave marks, his hands everywhere—m, thighs, ass, waist, the small of your back. You wrap your legs around his hips, locking him in, grinding down until you feel him tremble. “You’re so fucking hot,” you whisper, licking the sweat off his cheek, “I want you to lose control for me. I want you to cum so hard you forget your own name.” He groans, teeth bared, and then he’s back inside you, pounding up into you with desperate, filthy need, every thrust pushing you higher.
You’re gone, lost in sensation, the world narrowing to the place where his cock splits you open, the sting of his teeth on your collarbone, his fingers bruising your hips as he fucks you hard enough to make the door rattle in its hinges. “Take it, take all of me,” he growls, fucking you through his own shaking, “You’re mine tonight. All fucking mine.” You moan, clawing at his shoulders, nails raking his skin, leaving marks you know he’ll love in the morning.
There’s another crash from outside, someone pounding, another voice laughing, the party oblivious or pretending not to care. You gasp, the noise pushing you closer, making it feel even dirtier, the risk of being caught sharpening every edge. “You want to be caught, don’t you?” he whispers, dragging your head back by the hair, forcing you to look into his eyes. “You want everyone to know you’re getting fucked like this.” You’re so close, teetering, your whole body slick and straining, and you can only nod, desperate for release.
He slows for a moment, catching your jaw in one hand, holding you steady as his hips snap into yours, cock grinding right against your g-spot. “Say it,” he growls, “Say you want everyone to hear you cum.”
“I want it,” you whimper, voice shaking, “I want everyone to know I’m yours.” He laughs, soft and dark, then fucks you harder, pulling you down onto him, making your legs quake with every thrust. The pleasure builds, wild and sharp, until you’re sobbing, crying out, your whole body spasming as you shatter around him, the sound echoing off the tile and mirror and his lips at your ear, telling you how good you are, how fucking perfect.
When it’s over, you collapse against his chest, both of you shuddering, breath tangled, his hands smoothing over your skin in rough aftercare, mouth gentler now, peppering kisses over your face, your shoulder, whispering praise and filth in equal measure. “So fucking good for me, baby. Never seen anyone take it like you do. You’re unreal.” You’re barely standing, legs jelly, and he eases you down, kneeling, pulling you into his lap on the floor, still joined, still desperate for more. His voice is softer, careful, but still electric. “You want to cum again?” he asks, thumb stroking your swollen clit, “Or do you want to make me lose it this time?”
Your answer is a hungry nod, and before you can blink, he’s pushing you gently to your knees, his cock glistening and flushed, right at your lips. “Open up, pretty thing,” he murmurs, “Show me how filthy you can get.” You don’t hesitate, just lick him clean, savoring the taste of both of you, moaning as he shudders under your tongue. He’s so sensitive, every swipe of your mouth making him twitch, curse, eyes rolling back in his head.
He thrusts into your mouth, both hands tangled in your hair now, fucking your throat slow, then faster, his voice ragged and ruined, “Fuck, just like that, you’re perfect, you’re so fucking perfect, take it, take it all, baby.” Someone bangs on the door again—neither of you care, the risk only making you hungrier, your hands squeezing his thighs, pulling him deeper. He’s losing it, voice shaking, “Gonna cum, you want it, don’t you? Gonna swallow every drop like a good girl, show me, show everyone how much you love my cock.”
He holds you in his lap for a moment, both of you still trembling, his heartbeat thundering beneath your cheek as you catch your breath together. The air between you hums with something raw, something unfinished—neither of you satisfied, not really. His fingers trace idle, hungry circles over your bare thigh, and when your eyes meet in the bathroom mirror, the heat is still there, unspent, ravenous. You see the glint in his eyes, that ache that never seems to settle; the kind of need that isn’t satisfied by one orgasm or two, but by losing himself inside you, over and over, until you forget where you end and he begins. You don’t even flinch when he stands, hands gripping your waist, lifting you like you weigh nothing, pushing you back against the door with a force that’s both desperate and deliberate.
He fucks you until your knees buckle, sweat dripping down your spine, your body crushed between his and the bathroom door. Sunghoon’s breath is ragged at your ear, every thrust harder than the last, his body strung tight as a wire. “You drive me fucking crazy,” he snarls, his cock slamming deep, the slap of skin against skin echoing out past the music and shrieks from the party. “I can’t get enough of you. I need you again. And again.” You cry out, dizzy, so full you can barely take it, but the ache is everything—sweet, stinging, electric. His hand snakes around your throat, thumb pressed gentle over your pulse. “You gonna take all of me? You gonna let me ruin you tonight?” He’s watching you in the mirror, pupils blown, jaw clenched, desperate for the sight of you fucked out and open just for him.
Even after you’ve come, trembling, spent, Sunghoon won’t let up. He doesn’t even pull out all the way, just drags you across the tiles, bends you over the sink, and pushes in again, making you whimper with every fresh thrust. “Look at yourself,” he whispers, curling your hair around his fist, yanking your head back so you have to meet your own reflection. “Look how perfect you look with my cock inside you. Tell me who you belong to.” You choke on his name, lost in sensation, in the way he fills you up, his cock bruising you deep, his voice nothing but hunger. “That’s right,” he laughs, low and dark, “all fucking mine.”
He fucks you raw, hard, relentless, each round rougher than the last. Sometimes he’s almost gentle, sliding in slowly, letting you feel every inch, but then the tension snaps and he’s pounding you again, hips slamming into your ass until you cry out, your nails raking his shoulders, leaving him marked and claiming him just as much. There’s nothing soft in the way he takes you, nothing patient in the way he chases his own pleasure and yours. He wants you spent, ruined, the memory of him pressed into your body for days.
You feel the edge coming again, too quick and too much, but Sunghoon lives for it. He pulls out just as you shudder, then drags you to your knees, cock smearing your cheek as he strokes himself, sweat running down his chest, breath hot and wild. “Open your mouth,” he commands, voice barely more than a growl. “Show me how much you want it.” You do, tongue out, eyes locked on his, and he groans, cock sliding past your lips, thick and still slick from your cunt. He fucks your mouth, using you, loving every second, thumb brushing the corner of your lips as you choke and swallow him down. “That’s it, good girl, take it—fuck, I could do this all night.” His hands tangle in your hair, pulling you down, his hips jerking as he uses you for his own release.
When he cums, it’s with a guttural cry, cock twitching against your tongue, his whole body shuddering as you swallow him down, not wasting a drop. He pulls you up, still hard, still wanting, and kisses you hard, filth and heat and possessiveness tangled in every movement. He doesn’t stop, he presses you to the wall, fingers between your legs, sliding into you, smirking at how wet and ready you still are. “You’re fucking insatiable,” he teases, licking the sweat from your collarbone. “You want more, don’t you? Can’t get enough of me.”
And you don’t. Your body aches, pussy swollen and sore, but you need him, crave the way he fills you, the way he claims you over and over. He lifts you again, legs wrapped around his waist, cock sliding in so deep you see stars. “That’s my girl,” he pants, fucking up into you, relentless. “So perfect, so fucking perfect. I could keep you here forever, just taking my cock, just for me.” Your head falls back, mouth open, lost in the endless heat, the push and pull of his body, the dirty words that fall from his lips, the praise and the possession and the hunger that never ends.
The night is brutal with cold, a sharp bite that steals your breath and stings your cheeks, but you barely notice it over the pulse in your veins. You follow Sunghoon through the aftermath of the party, red Solo cups scattered in the grass, bits of toilet paper caught in the branches, a deflated jack-o-lantern leaking candle wax on the curb. The house behind you still pulses with music and leftover heat, but it’s nothing compared to the gravity that drags you to him, to his bike waiting like some shadowed beast under the streetlamp.
He glances back, eyes black and glittering, a cocky grin flickering on his mouth as he tosses you the helmet. “Let’s get out of here. For good this time,” he says, voice gone low and rich, threading through you like a promise. “This place was just a rental. My place is better.” You pull the helmet on with trembling fingers, chin strap digging into your jaw, every movement made clumsy by adrenaline and nerves. He swings his leg over the seat, muscles flexing in his thighs, black jeans hugging him like a second skin, and then he looks over his shoulder, nodding for you to climb on. “Come on, pretty. You’ll ride behind me, hold tight, don’t let go.”
When you settle in behind him, it’s instinct to grip his waist, but he grabs your hands and slides them lower, guiding your arms around his middle, his fingers warm even through your coat. “Right there,” he murmurs, thumb tracing a lazy circle against your knuckles, voice a secret meant for your skin. “Closer. I want to feel you the whole way home.” He revs the engine, the bike shuddering beneath you, the vibrations running straight up your thighs, making you squirm against him. He laughs, deep and knowing, a rumble that vibrates through your chest as you press yourself into his back.
“Keep your knees tight, princess,” he says, letting his hand rest atop your thigh, stroking just enough to set you trembling. “Balance is everything. Move with me. Lean when I lean. And don’t be scared, nobody rides me off the road.” The world narrows to the feeling of his body, the rough texture of his jacket, the heat of his palm curving possessively over your thigh. You smell his cologne, that sharp, addictive note of leather and musk and the wild tang of autumn air, and you realize you’d follow him anywhere.
The bike snarls to life, engine growling under both of you, and suddenly you’re flying, roaring out onto dark city streets, neon blurring, Halloween decorations spinning past in your periphery. Every corner tilts your universe, every jolt drives you harder into his back, your arms locked around his waist, your breath stuttering with every turn. He speeds up, faster and faster, chasing the empty stretches of night, the world whittling down to your shared pulse, the cold air burning tears from your eyes.
When you lean into him, your chest pressed flat to his spine, you feel the way he arches back, shifting his hips so your thighs lock tighter around him, one hand reaching to squeeze your knee. His other hand sneaks down between your bodies, fingers creeping under your skirt, tracing the damp silk clinging to your skin. “That’s it, baby,” he says, barely audible over the wind and the engine, but you hear him anyway, every syllable curling through your body. “Can’t wait till I get you home. Gonna keep you on my lap till sunrise.”
Every stoplight is an excuse for him to touch you, thumb pressing circles into your thigh, knuckles grazing the skin above your panties, just enough to leave you aching for more. The thrill is heady, wild, your laughter spinning out behind you in the wind. He leans back, helmet tapping yours, voice a filthy whisper, “Doing so good, princess. You hold on so tight. Do you feel that? That’s what you do to me.” You gasp, not sure if you’re riding the bike or him, the world a blur of color and sound and him, always him, guiding you home, where the night won’t end, not until you’re wrecked and ruined in his bed.
The ride ends behind a block of dark, glassy apartments, a part of town that never really sleeps, but tonight is quiet, all the noise contained inside walls you’ll never see. Sunghoon coasts the bike down a narrow drive, past numbered parking bays and flickering security lights, until he pulls up in front of a steel door set flush in the back of the building. You realize, with a start, that this isn’t just any garage, it’s his. His apartment is right above, keys on a loop at his belt, and you see the mark of him in everything: the battered bike helmet hanging from a peg, a stack of textbooks balanced next to a laundry basket, old posters curling on the far wall. When he swings open the heavy door, you step into a space that’s private in a way nothing at the party ever was, this is where he keeps what matters. The air smells like cold metal, grease, and a hint of his cologne, the floor scarred by tire marks and the ghost of old spills. Every echo in here belongs to him.
He kicks down the stand and looks over his shoulder, eyes dark and waiting. You linger at the threshold, not quite ready to shatter the quiet, this is his domain, the world where he’s more than just a rumor or a dare. You see the apartment door at the back, a spiral of keys hanging, the comfort of knowing if you want, you’ll follow him all the way home. For now, you’re just here, in his garage down below, surrounded by the proof that this is real, this is private, and for the first time all night, you’re not just crashing someone else’s scene. You’re in Sunghoon’s.
The garage is chilly and cavernous, but every echo of concrete and steel is muffled by the throb of your heartbeat and the low rumble of Sunghoon’s bike beneath you. He sits back on the cool leather seat, legs splayed, jeans shoved low, cock flushed and thick and already slick from your mouth. You climb onto him, knees braced on either side of his hips, skirt bunched up around your waist, panties already gone, your bare skin prickling with anticipation and the brush of night air. The bike creaks under your shifting weight, the smell of oil and rubber sharp as you grip the handlebars behind his shoulders, using the frame to hold yourself steady as you slide down onto him in one greedy, desperate motion. You gasp, the stretch brutal, your thighs trembling around his.
He groans, hands splayed hard on your hips, dragging you flush against him, the bite of his grip promising bruises that’ll last for days. “Fuck, just like that,” he growls, voice echoing off the garage walls. The engine’s still warm, humming beneath your knees, every movement of your hips causing the bike to shudder and groan, the vibrations traveling straight up through your cunt, making you shiver and moan. You start to bounce, riding him hard, letting your head fall back, hair spilling down your spine, the slap of skin on leather shockingly loud in the echo chamber of the garage.
You’re loud, too, deliberately so, every gasp and curse tumbling out unfiltered. “God, Sunghoon, fuck, you feel so good, you’re so deep,” you moan, nails digging into his shoulders as you pick up the pace, grinding down until you see stars.
He reaches up, grabs a fistful of your hair, yanks your mouth to his, tongue rough and demanding, swallowing your moans. “You like that, baby?” he whispers, letting you catch your breath just long enough to whimper, “Yes, yes, fuck, don’t stop.” His free hand slaps your ass, the sound ricocheting, making you clench around him and bounce harder.
The bike rocks beneath you, tires squeaking against the concrete as you move, the whole thing swaying with the rhythm of your bodies. Sunghoon’s jacket is bunched between your fists, his chest slick with sweat. “Look at you, riding me like you own me,” he rasps, eyes locked on yours, pupils blown wide. “Think you can cum for me, right here, with the door open?” You look over your shoulder, see the sliver of night through the half-rolled garage door, the risk of being seen, of being heard, making you whimper. “You want the neighbors to know what a slut you are for me?” he teases, his voice filthy and fond, hand snaking up to wrap around your throat, thumb stroking your pulse as he thrusts up into you.
You bounce harder, the engine’s growl under you mixing with your cries. “Yes, please, Sunghoon, I want it, I want you,” you pant, the words ragged, desperate.
He leans forward, licks a stripe up your throat, teeth grazing your jaw, before pulling your hand up to cover your own mouth. “Be quiet, or I’ll stop,” he warns, but there’s laughter in his voice, the challenge clear. You whimper against your palm, trying to stifle your cries as he pounds into you, the bike rattling, every thrust making the headlights flicker. The slap of your skin against his, the wet drag of your cunt, the heavy bass of the engine, every sound makes you clench tighter, feel wilder, needier.
He pulls your hand away, forcing your mouth open with his thumb. “Let them hear,” he commands, voice low and brutal. “Let them know who’s fucking you, who’s making you cum.” You shudder, the humiliation and pride blurring together, hips jerking as you start to unravel. He digs his fingers into your waist, urging you to ride him harder, faster, until you’re sobbing, back arching, body straining for release. “Good girl,” he breathes, the words breaking you open, the orgasm ripping through you so hard you nearly scream, collapsing against his chest, shaking and spent.
He won’t let you stop. He flips you, pushing you forward so your hands are braced on the handlebars, ass high in the air, your thighs spread wide. “Stay just like that,” he orders, lining up and slamming back in, his hips slapping against your ass. The bike is shaking, the whole garage vibrating with every desperate thrust. “You’re so fucking perfect, baby, you take it so good,” he groans, hand sliding up to fist in your hair again, jerking your head back so you have to look at him, see the wild hunger in his eyes. “I could fuck you like this all night, do you want that? You want to cum again, for me?”
You’re begging now, every word a plea, every breath a sob. “Please, Sunghoon, more, I need you, I need it.” He reaches around, rubs your clit in tight circles, fucking you through another shattering orgasm, your whole body convulsing, tears streaming down your cheeks from the intensity.
He leans in, kisses the salt from your skin, whispers praise into your ear, every word filthier than the last. “Such a good girl, so fucking pretty when you break for me. I’m never letting you go.” The engine purrs beneath you, the garage ringing with the sound of your ruin, the thrill of being caught making every moment burn hotter, every climax sweeter, every inch of you his.
You barely catch your breath before Sunghoon is on you again, lips crashing into yours, rough and hungry, all teeth and spit. He pushes you down to the cool concrete floor, the grit of dust biting your bare thighs, his weight pinning you in place. “You said you wanted more,” he growls, voice ragged, fingers digging into your hips as he yanks your legs apart. The floor is cold and hard, but his hands are everywhere, bruising and possessive, his cock pressing hot and heavy between your thighs. “Spread for me. Let me see.” You do, shameless and pliant, arching your back so he can slide back inside, stretching you wide as he sinks in, groaning at how slick you are, how ready you always seem to be for him. The garage lights flicker overhead, the world reduced to the slap of his skin, the slap of his cock, the sweet ache of the concrete scraping your spine.
He leans down, mouth hot on your neck, biting just hard enough to make you gasp, then dragging his tongue across the mark, soothing and claiming. His hips pound into you relentlessly, the sound obscene, wet and filthy, every thrust pushing you further, deeper, until you’re crying out, nails clawing at his back. “You feel that?” he taunts, low and mocking. “No one else is ever gonna fuck you like this. You’re all mine.” He bends your legs up, pushing your knees to your chest, fucking you open for him, letting the whole garage see what you look like ruined and wanting, your moans bouncing off the walls. You barely notice when he spits on your chest, rubbing the mess over your nipples, making you arch up and beg for his mouth.
He flips you, hauls you up, and shoves you against the nearest wall. The cement is icy against your cheek, but his body is all heat behind you, his cock splitting you open as he slams back in. He grabs your wrists, pins them above your head with one hand, the other wrapped tight around your throat, thumb stroking your jaw. “Count for me,” he rasps, hips pistoning into you, every thrust making your bones rattle. “Every time you cum, I want you to say my name.” You lose track, the orgasms rolling through you, wringing you out until you’re boneless, your voice cracking from screaming his name over and over. He bites your shoulder, sucking hard enough to bruise, leaving his mark where no one but you will ever see.
You collapse to your knees, dizzy and half-laughing, half-weeping, your face pressed to the wall. He drops down with you, drags you over to the bike, props you up against the seat so your back arches and your ass is on display. He kneels behind you, spreads you wide, and eats you out again, rough and messy, spit and cum smeared everywhere. “You taste like heaven,” he groans, tongue working you until you’re begging for mercy, thighs shaking, his fingers fucking you open while his tongue torments your clit. You sob, grab his hair, ride his mouth until you’re shaking, your body wrung out and dripping. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let you down, just keeps going until you push him away, gasping for air.
He stands and pulls you up, kissing you hard, shoving you back over the bike’s gas tank, your hips pinned by the curve of metal. “Hold on,” he commands, and you grip the handlebars for dear life as he thrusts into you from behind, the bike swaying under the force of his fucking. He grabs your hair, jerks your head back so you have to look him in the eye in the reflection of the chrome, his voice low and taunting. “Look at yourself. Look how desperate you are. Fuck, you’re so perfect like this.” The engine clicks, the seat creaks, your bodies thrum with every bounce, your moans muffled by the roar of your own need. He slaps your ass, tells you you’re his filthy girl, his perfect rider, the only one who can take him this deep.
He pulls out, grabs your jaw, spits in your mouth, kisses you with it, lets you lick his tongue, then flips you onto your back again, fucking into you hard, deep, slow now, torturing you with the drag, making you beg for every inch. “Do you want it fast or slow?” he asks, voice thick with satisfaction. “Tell me what you want, baby.”
You beg, plead, every word a confession, every moan a demand. He gives you both, fast, then slow, mixing it up, never letting you settle, never letting you know what comes next, until you’re so dizzy with it you don’t know if you’re cumming or crying or both. His hand is on your throat again, his teeth on your lips, his cock dragging you open, making you his over and over.
The last time, he takes you on the cold floor again, one hand under your knee, the other pinning your wrists above your head, fucking you until you go silent, pleasure sharp as a knife. He whispers all the filth in your ear, how he wants you, how he’ll never get enough, how he wants you to ruin him and let him ruin you. When you finally go limp, trembling and leaking and bruised and perfect, he collapses on top of you, breath coming hard, kissing you soft and slow, the world outside the garage fading to nothing.
He barely lets you catch your breath, dragging you off the bike by your hips, his mouth already finding your tits, tongue laving over one nipple, then the other, sucking hard and desperate, leaving each peak wet and stinging. “You taste so fucking sweet,” he mutters against your skin, teeth grazing, biting down just enough to make you arch, your hands fisting in his hair, gasping for air. He sucks, circles, bites, makes you moan and whimper and beg, switching sides, mouth frantic and greedy like he’s been starved for years. “Let me hear you, baby,” he growls, tongue flicking, sucking so hard your whole body tingles, nipples red and swollen and aching. You tug him closer, whimpering, not caring about anything but the way his mouth makes you burn.
Before you know it, he spins you, palms rough on your waist, pressing you up against the cold garage wall. His hands are everywhere—one squeezing your breast, thumb rolling your nipple, the other yanking your ass back so your hips jut out for him. You feel his cock, hot and leaking, pressing between your cheeks, still slippery with your slick and his spit. He bends low, licks up your spine, then nips the back of your neck, makes you shiver, makes you whimper, so needy for more. “Hold on,” he commands, voice gone jagged. “Don’t let go.”
You brace your palms flat against the wall, eyes fluttering closed, pulse hammering as he lines up, cock heavy and throbbing. Without warning, he pushes in, fucking you deep, all the way to the hilt, a brutal, perfect stretch that makes you sob. His fingers slide up, find your mouth, slip between your lips, two, then three, pressing down on your tongue, holding your jaw open as he fucks you. “Suck,” he orders, voice dark, possessive, and you do, tasting yourself, moaning around his fingers, drooling, wild with how filthy it is. He thrusts harder, hips slapping your ass, the garage echoing with every desperate, messy movement.
The wall is cold, your skin is hot, sweat sliding down your back, your knees shaking with every punishing snap of his hips. He’s relentless, fucking you deeper, harder, never slowing, every thrust a filthy promise that you’re his for the night. He pulls his fingers from your mouth, dragging them down to rub your clit, circles rough and fast, making you squirm, making you wail. “You look so good like this, fucked out and messy, dripping down my cock,” he grunts, voice pure sex and hunger. “You like being used, don’t you? You want everyone to know who ruined you?”
Your mind shatters, white noise and pleasure and Sunghoon’s voice, Sunghoon’s hands, Sunghoon’s cock driving you wild. You cry out, clenching around him, trembling on the edge until you break, coming hard, body convulsing, walls fluttering, so sensitive you can barely breathe. He follows with a growl, slamming deep one last time, spilling inside you, biting down on your shoulder as he grinds through his orgasm, hands holding you so tight you’ll wear his fingerprints for days.
He doesn’t pull out right away, just leans over you, panting, sweat dripping from his forehead onto your neck, cock still buried inside. “Fuck,” he rasps, almost laughing, still high on the aftershocks, “I can’t believe you’re real.” He’s shaking, you’re shaking, the world gone blurry with heat and exhaustion and that wild, raw thrill that nothing will ever feel like this again.
You slide to the floor together, tangled and gasping, your head against his chest, his arms wrapped around you, both of you too spent to move, your bodies sticky and sore and blissed out. The garage is quiet, just the soft tick of the bike’s engine cooling, your mingled breaths, the pounding echo of your hearts. Sunghoon presses lazy kisses to your temple, still tasting salt and sweat, his mouth gentle where it was ravenous before. “You’re fucking insane,” he whispers, a crooked grin in his voice, “and I want you all night.” Neither of you want to move. You just hold each other, ruined and new, high on everything that’s just happened, the bike, the risk, the wildness, the pure fucking insanity of this night. You’re both fucked dumb for each other, bodies humming with aftershocks, every touch lingering, every whisper a secret. You know you’ll never look at him—or yourself—the same way again.
𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐇 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑
It’s barely afternoon, sunlight slanting through the half-open blinds of Sunghoon’s apartment, his apartment, now just as much yours, though most people would only see the way your bra is dangling from his bedroom doorknob, the way your perfume and his cologne have become a single scent. You’re straddling his hips, thighs bracketing his, still sticky and a little raw from where he’s kept you for days, weeks, a whole month now spent learning how many ways you can lose yourself with him inside you. The sheets are a ruined, tangled mess, there’s never been a morning they weren’t. Your knees ache from all the different angles he’s bent you; your voice is rough from begging, from whispering his name, from laughing when he fucked you through sunrise and started again at noon. The air tastes like sweat, old sex, and something so sweet it hurts your teeth. He’s looking up at you like there’s no world outside this bed, arms folded behind his head, mouth parted, jaw dark with stubble you feel everywhere, on your collarbones, between your thighs, where he’s marked you again and again.
Your hands splay over his chest, mapping every new bruise, every old scratch, every memory you made with your body tangled around his. His cock is thick and hard beneath you, slick with both of you, and your hips roll slow and deep, not because you’re in a hurry, but because you both know there’s no rush anymore. This isn’t the wild, desperate fucking of that first night, though you’ve had more than your share of that too. Now it’s a marathon, an experiment, every thrust a new way to say “don’t stop,” every moan a promise you’ll never be done learning each other.
Your head tips back as you ride him, sun painting gold across your skin, and he’s transfixed, greedy for every detail, every sound you make, every flutter of your lashes when you clench around him just right. If anyone asks what you two have done this month, the honest answer is everything, on the bed, the kitchen counter, the couch, his bike, against the shower wall, even on the floor when you couldn’t make it another step. You’ve forgotten how to say goodbye, how to keep your hands to yourself, how to let a day pass without his fingers inside you, his mouth coaxing you open, his words as filthy and necessary as air. You move for him, slow and deep, a rhythm only you two know, hips rolling until his hands slide up to grip your waist, bruising, claiming, promising another hour, another night, another week of this endless wanting. You’re drunk on it, dizzy with it, every nerve ending still raw and electric from all the ways you’ve loved him in the last month and all the ways you plan to keep going.
You bounce gently, letting him fill you over and over, your bodies sticky and soft, clinging together like the world’s shrunk to just this bed and the sound of your shared breath. Sunghoon’s hands finally slide up, cupping your waist, holding you steady as you ride him, his eyes never leaving your face. “You know,” he murmurs, voice rough and so full of honesty it makes you pause, “I noticed you way before the party. I knew who you were before you tried to escape my party and steal my bike.” His thumbs move over your skin, teasing, slow. “You always sit in the third row, two seats from the end. You bite your pencil when you’re thinking and your notes are neater than anyone’s.”
You give him a look, jabbing your heel against his thigh, breathless and grinning, hips rolling harder. “Please. I ride that motorbike better than you ever could, Park.” He barely lets you catch your breath before he’s rolling his hips up again, hungry for more, and you laugh, biting your lip, still bouncing on his cock. “You know, I’ve gotten pretty good at riding, right? Both kinds. All those late-night lessons you give me, you only ever take your hands off to put them somewhere filthier.”
He grins, dark and possessive, hands sliding up your waist as he rocks into you, “Don’t act like you haven’t begged for every lesson. I think you love my bike almost as much as you love my cock.”
You whine, letting your head fall back, hips moving faster, “It’s a close race, Park, but only one of those makes me scream.”
He chuckles, deep and smug, twisting his fingers in your hair to pull you down for a kiss, voice thick with promise. “Yeah? Let’s see which one you want more after we’re done. Might have to take you for another spin after this.” And you moan, losing yourself in the rhythm, in his hands, in the heat, knowing you’ll always say yes, whether it’s leather and engine oil or tangled sheets and nothing but skin, because every ride with him is the only one you ever want to take.
“God, I never knew riding could feel this fucking good, makes me want to climb on and lose myself every damn night, on your bike or your cock. Just need you under me, begging me to go faster, baby.”
He grins back, cocky and gorgeous, dark hair falling over his eyes, letting you take him all the way in. “Yeah? I know what you ride the best, though,” he fires back, one hand cupping your ass, pulling you down hard on his cock, making you gasp.
You moan, grinding harder, shameless, the bedsprings squeaking under you. “Yeah, baby, say it. Tell me what I’m best at.” You bounce on him, hair flying, eyes locked on his, drunk on how he never stops wanting you.
He groans, low and desperate, thrusting up into you, rough and perfect. “You—fuck—bounce on my cock like you were born for it. You make me lose my mind every time, every fucking time.” And you laugh, wild, head thrown back, riding him faster, the sound filling the room and the sunlight and everything you’ve been together all month, just the two of you, always wanting more.
You pull back, breathless, lips brushing his as you coo, “Really, baby? You noticed me before the party?” The word boyfriend tastes sweet and new on your tongue, makes you smile into his mouth. He nods, hands warm on your hips, eyes shining as he draws you down into another kiss. You blink, pulse stumbling, every part of you clenching around him. “You, you noticed me?” Your voice is half a gasp, half a smile, shy and so fucking vulnerable.
His answer is a low groan, hips rocking up, his gaze softer than you’ve ever seen, but still hungry for all of you. “I did. Every time I walked in, I checked if you were there. You never look up, but I could always feel you in the room. I like how quiet you are, how you actually listen, how you laugh at the stupidest jokes the professors make even when no one else does. I like the way you write little notes to yourself in the margins—little hearts, sometimes, or just dumb reminders.” He squeezes your waist, grounding you to him, every word a gentle claim. “You’re different. You made me want to be different, too. I had my eye on you way before the party, that’s why I’m happy Mira dragged you there. My whole worldview shifted the second I caught a gorgeous little witch in thigh highs loitering next to my bike, looking like she might hex me if I got too close or maybe ride off with the whole damn thing.”
Your hips slow, almost stopping, your eyes stinging with something bright and full, his confession winding through your chest. “I thought you never even saw me. I thought I was invisible to you.” It comes out soft, almost embarrassed.
He only laughs, warm and disbelieving, pulling you closer, pressing his lips to your cheek as if to erase the very idea. “You could never be invisible to me, sweetheart. Not in a million years. “Couldn’t stop seeing you if I tried,” he whispers, thumb tracing your jaw. “That’s why when I saw you leave the party, I couldn’t let you go. I was scared you’d slip away before I ever got the chance to know you for real.” His voice drops, darker, more vulnerable. “You have no idea how glad I am that I saw you trying to leave, that I convinced to stay with me and taught you how to ride. That I got to show you what you do to me.”
You flush deeper, arching into him, riding him a little harder now, your hair falling over your face, his name slipping from your lips like a prayer. “You’re such a fucking idiot, Sunghoon,” you murmur, breathless and grinning, “you could’ve had this all along.” He groans, hands flexing on your waist, hips driving up into you with more intent, both of you chasing something deeper than just pleasure.
For the first time you feel incandescent, like a midnight-carved jack-o’-lantern finally lit from within, every razor-thin slice of loneliness flooded with heat as Sunghoon’s gaze holds you open; it’s liberating, obscene, a revelation that shudders through your bones and pools between your legs, because being wanted this hungrily turns invisibility into costume at last discarded, the shy girl unmasked beneath the October moon and claimed in candle-bright sparks of pleasure; you ride him with desperation and awe, tasting sweat and pumpkin-spiced air, understanding in every slick, echoing slap of skin that the right lover doesn’t just see you, he burns your outline into constellations, teaches your body the gospel of being noticed, worshipped, devoured, until the old you is nothing but a ghost story whispered outside party windows while you come alive, trembling and greedy, in the lantern-glow of his hands.
Your rhythm gets rougher, more desperate, your body lit up everywhere he touches. He drags you down for a kiss, mouths crashing, tongues tangled, his hands sliding over your back, pulling you flush to his chest as he thrusts up, cock hitting just right, making you gasp. He grins against your mouth, wicked and open, “I want you every day. I want you every way.” You ride him faster, the bed shaking, your moans melting into his name, the world reduced to sweat and skin and the hungry, tangled ache between you. You come together, bodies pressed tight, his arms wrapped around you so close you can barely tell where you end and he begins. You bury your face in his neck, both of you shaking, breathless, his hands stroking your spine, whispering soft, filthy nothings that make you laugh and shiver and cling to him all at once. There’s nothing frantic in it, just the soft, raw certainty that you’ve both been waiting for someone to look at you like this, to touch you like this, to finally let yourself want and be wanted.
When it’s over, you collapse beside him, tangled up in his sheets, legs still draped over his, his hand finding yours and lacing your fingers together. He looks at you, eyes warm and content and just a little wild, and says, “You wrecked me, you know that?” And you can’t help but smile, because you know exactly how he feels, ruined and remade and so goddamn glad you let yourself be seen.
Outside, October sunlight spills across the blinds like leftover jack-oʼ-lantern glow, but inside this room feels enchanted, two midnight runaways who outraced the witching hour and woke up in their own fairy tale. The bed is your pumpkin carriage at dawn, sheets rumpled into silver clouds, his heartbeat drumming beneath your palm like the last notes of a spell, and every bruise you share glitters like star-dust proof that you both survived the haunted woods. You lie there, skin warm against skin, tasting cinnamon on his smile, certain that the universe bent its crooked spine, just once, to scribble a sweeter epilogue: every morning after this, you’ll keep choosing one another, the quiet girl and the campus legend, rewriting Halloween into happily-ever-after as long as you both feel the magic humming under your ribs.
asks, reblogs, comments much appreciated, don’t be a silent reader !!
wanna read more from me? check out my latest sunghoon fic!
‘masked souls’ — in a world where every glance is a transaction and every touch risks ruin, you—daughter of the province’s richest family—are haunted by a masked stranger who claims you on all hallows’ eve, then vanishes. months later, park sunghoon appears as lowborn staff in your father’s estate. you fall for him, unaware he’s the same man you loved and lost. forbidden passion grows, shadowed by secrets, hunger, and a class divide that could destroy you both. only when every mask is stripped away do you learn if love can survive the cost of truth, or if fate always demands you choose between duty and desire.
༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻ what better than to take care of your needy bf ?
pairing: sub!jake x dom!femreader
genre: smut (18+) , established relationship
word count: 1.7k
! warnings : sub!jake 69 use of a vibrator blindfolded tied up crying edging overstimulation oral(f reveiving) nicknames: yunie jakey
═══════ ♪ 'blue-ball queen, take your fuckin' seat, baby' - loft music (the weeknd)
You unlocked the front door.
And as soon as you knew it, Jake’s lips were on you.
“[Name]” he whines into the kiss, pulling apart and looking at you with his lovesick eyes, “Missed you so bad, thought about you all day.”
You then nipped on his neck, hands roaming under his shirt. He was sweaty from dance practice, slightly out of breath. You love that though, makes him whine into your heated makeout sessions.
“Did you baby?” he nods as he swallows as you play with the drawstrings of his sweatpants, staring up right into his eyes. He was already hard, of course.
“So much..” and you knew it, when his words came out more choked. When his breathing became unstable. He never lost control, always waiting for you to make the first move, and you loved that.
Today it was amplified, as if his whole body was submitting to you, not holding back, just waiting for you to do something about his ‘problem’. Maybe it was because he had no strength at all after the ruthless practice hours.
And you put his needy state to advantage. It was addicting.
Your knees rubbing against the hardness between his legs as he was planted under you on the bed. You glance at the glistening sweat on his adams apple as it bobbed , he looked hot this way, nervous for how much you were teasing him.
He buried his face in the curve of your shoulder as you kissed his neck, biting softly.
“Ah-”
“Just.. need you. Please.”
You chuckled, the low and sultry, made his heart stammer. Your fingers threaded through his sweaty hair, nails soothing his scalp. “I know, Yunie. I’ve got you.”
He let out a groan at the ‘Yunie’. He absolutely loved that nickname. He grinded against your knees, seeking the touch that you were so cruelly holding back.
“Mm, so needy already?” you spread his legs further with your knees, hands roaming under his shirt once again, grazing his hardened peaks.
He was. So sensitive there.
He inhaled sharply through his teeth, and exhaled with a curse. The sound music to your ears, you slid his shirt right off, he complied.
Then your mouth was on his nipples immediately, hands messily fumbling with his sweatpants. He immediately lifted his hips with a whine to slide them off, just till the midst of his thighs.
Boxers now visible. Hardness on display.
You rubbed his boner through his boxers, earning a soft gasp.
“Yunie~ wanna try something new on you baby.”
He looked up at you, eyes widening with lust and a tinge of apprehension.
"New?" he breathed, his voice was a shaky whisper.
"What... what is it?"
-
Compliance.
The silk was soft against his wrists, the knots unyielding. A matching strip of fabric covered his eyes, his world was absolute darkness. Every sound was amplified, the emotion of fear magnified by a thousand. The thrill of not knowing what was going to happen next.
The rustle of the sheets, your soft breathing, it made the frantic hammering of his own heart worsen. He was already tied, laid out on the bed, naked and vulnerable.
The tease was just crazy. His fingers clutched the sheets with desperation as he thrust up into nothingness. One moment you were there, and then you weren't. He heard the soft click of the bedside drawer, his heart dropped, knowingly.
In excitement? He wasn’t sure at this point.
This was completely new. And he couldn’t decide if he exactly hated or loved it. But would it really matter as long as you made him feel good? Truth was, he’s already deep into it, so down bad that he’d let you slap him for pleasure.
"[Name]?" he breathed out in a question, your name a desperate plea.
You answered by lowering yourself onto his face.
The first touch of your heat against his mouth caught him off guard. Your hands on his chest as you balanced yourself.
He moaned into your pussy, making you groan at the vibration. Then he immediately set to work, his tongue delving into you with need. The fact that he couldn’t see anything, couldn’t even touch you how he wanted to, made it so much better. He just had one purpose, to please you.
But being tied up, no line of sight, wasn’t the best for him. Yeah, he truly couldn’t see anything that you were about to do to him.
So you turned it on. A low, powerful buzz started directly against the head of his cock.
His entire body seized. A muffled scream tore from his throat as the intense pleasure shot through him as he jerked. You hadn’t touched his dick from the beginning till now, so the first ‘touch’ being the intense vibrations of the vibrator he always used on you, ruined him.
It made his tongue delve into your pussy, and you let out a soft gasp as you ran the toy up and down the shaft of his cock that now leaked pre-cum nonstop.
“Mmph–!”
You just hummed, deep satisfaction going through you as you dragged the toy to slowly circle the toy around his sensitive tip "You like it, Yunie? Like me playing with your dick while you eat me out?"
He simply moaned in response. Slightly high pitched, and you loved that.
His tall nose bridge brushed against your clit once in a while, you groaned every time it did. And it made him go crazy.
The pleasure that was pushing him towards the edge with terrifying speed, made it hard to focus on eating you out. Despite that, you grinding on his nose only made him choke out a few whimpers. Every single nerve ending of his was on fire.
And as your legs trembled around his chest, so did his. The pressure coiling in his gut was unbearable. He was going to explode. He needed it so badly.
He whimpered, a high and desperate sound, trying to signal his impending release. You lifted off for a bit.
He gasped, immediately whining your name. Sharp.
But no, you weren’t going to give him that pleasure, you lowered yourself again. He didn’t see it coming, obviously. He took in stuttering gasps as his tongue focused on flicking your clit.
You were sure his face was a drooling, wet mess by now.
Then you slowly turned your head around while still keeping the vibrator on his flush cock. His fingers shaking in the restraints, tears running down, masked by the blindfold.
A beautiful mess for you.
At the edge of him nearing orgasm, you switched the vibrator off, and slowly lifted your hips.
The sudden lack of stimulation was a physical blow. He cried out in frustration, his hips bucking into empty air. His cock was throbbing and aching, beads of pre-cum dripping onto his stomach.
It was simply torture, he fucking haaated it.
"What's wrong, Jakey?" you cooed, your voice dripping with false sympathy. "Did you need something?"
He glared up into the darkness of the blindfold, head falling backwards. His vision was hazy with unshed tears of desperation. "[Name].. please.."
"Please what?" you asked, grinding down slightly against his mouth.
"Let me..Just let me come..," he begged, his voice cracking. You giggled, it was cute to him, but also evil at the situation. You brought the toy back down, this time on a higher setting.
The highest, actually.
It was crazy, you knew it, he used it on you before.
His entire body was shaking, his legs trembling uncontrollably. He was making sounds he'd never made before, broken whimpers and crazy moans that were muffled by your pussy.
And just as he was settling into the pain, you brought the toy down to his balls. It wasn’t too bad, until he felt your hand instead. Now you stroked him, fast and teasing.
You spit on his aching cock, then went faster. You felt your own release nearing.
You were riding his face in earnest now, chasing your own release.
"Right there… fuck, Yunie, f..faster"
Your moan sent a fresh wave of arousal through him. He was so hard it hurt, his balls drawn up tight. Your hand, your moans, how sweet you tasted, it all brought him to the edge.
"Please, baby, please.. please– please..” he babbled against your skin, his mind completely gone.
You lowered down completely on his face now, your body tensing as your orgasm crashed through you. He felt you clench and flutter against his tongue, and heard you cry out his name.
The hottest thing he had ever experienced actually. Better than when you’re under him.
And as you came, you pressed the vibrator hard against his frenulum and held it there.
The orgasm ripped out of him. It wasn't gentle—at all.
It was violent. He screamed against your core, his back bowing so sharply he thought he might even break at this point. His cock pulsed, spurt after spurt of hot cum painting his thighs, and your face. It went on and on, drawn out by the relentless buzzing of the toy. It felt like he was being turned inside out.
And you kept it on him, pretty boy could handle some overstimulation.
"Please," he whimpered, trying to squirm away. "Too much..Can't–"
You hips were now off his face and on his chest, pressing it down with your weight. The warmth of your wetness holding him down and the torture on his cock made his tears fall furthur.
“Fuck fuck fuck.. gonna cum–”
Then you took it off, earning a choked sob.
And when the chased pleasure was dying down. You put it back on.
Then off again.
Then on.
And off again, of course. You just liked hearing his sobs, his emotions, his whines. You had never seen him break apart in front of you like this. Or well, behind you. But regardless, it was addicting.
“Gonna cum for me again mm?” you didn’t even need to look back to know he was nodding frantically. The harsh breathing gave it away.
Then he came. Hard.
“One more time Yunie~”
“Fuck-–”
draft off a request
long awaited sub yunie, i'm trying to finish all members before i work on the rest of the hee reqs !
AND- i just got a yaoi request too? i'm definitely writing it though because it genuinely caught me off guard like god i've never heard of that ship but sure (riize anton x hee??)
WARNINGS── pwp, nsfw, mdni, noncon leaning dubcon, jay is manipulative and mean, HEAVYY degradation, sensory deprivation, usage of scarf for tying up, spanking, choking, dacryphilia, very little foreplay/prep BUT reader is already wet, biting, orgasm denial(twice :p), spit kink, blowjob, dry(wet?) humping, unprotected sex,
BOOM ! a small gift for two thousand + stars i love u guys so much :(
WORD COUNT── 2323 words of PURE FILTH.
❪ 𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐙 ❫ ｡ dead dove; do not eat. i will not be responsible if you read further and find yourself uncomfortable.nawt proofread. lowk went kinda feral while writing this.. i didn’t expect to get so carried away but oh well.... its jay afterall....
“babe, come on let me tie you up” he reaches out for your wrists and you hesitate, still thinking about how sore you were the last time.
“c’mon, you know i never wanna hurt you” jay’s voice drops lower, fingers already looping the first silk scarf around your wrist before you can even answer or pull away. “jay—” you start to protest, but he clamps a hand over your mouth, pressing hard enough to make your jaw ache. “shhh. you think i don’t know how wet you get when i do this?” his other hand slides between your thighs, fingers pushing past the fabric of your underwear to find you already slick. “fuck, you’re pathetic. pretending you don’t want it.”
the scarf tightens, knotting at the small of your back while he flips you onto your stomach, knees, face shoved into the mattress, ass in the air. you gasp as he rips your panties down, the elastic snapping against your thighs before he balls them up and forces them past your lips. “keep ‘em there” he growls, yanking your head back by the hair to stare into your wide, panicked eyes. “or i’ll make sure you regret it” and shoved your head back into the mattres.
the blindfold comes next, black silk pulled taut over your eyes, plunging you into darkness. you whimper, drool soaking the fabric in your mouth as he spreads your legs wider, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your inner thighs. “god, you’re such a fucking mess” he mutters, breath hot against your ear before his tongue drags up the length of your slit, savoring the way your body jerks against the restraints. “mmh… tastes even better when you can’t squirm away”
his hands grip your hips, fingers bruising as he holds you open, tongue fucking into you with slow, deliberate strokes. you writhe, but he only tuts, biting the curve of your ass hard enough to make you cry out. the panties muffle the sound, but he still smacks your cunt with his hand. “did i say you could make noise?”
you shake your head, thighs trembling as he laps at you again. his fingers replace his mouth, two pushing into you without warning, stretching you just enough to sting. “fuck, you’re still so tight,” he groans, curling them up against that spot that makes your toes curl. you jerk forward, but he yanks you back by the hair, fingers still pistoning inside you. “where you going, huh? thought you wanted this. look at how fucking wet you are, nasty slut.” he drags his free hand through your slick, rubbing it over your clit in rough circles. your hips buck involuntarily, but he slaps your ass hard enough to leave a mark. “stay. fucking.still.”
the wet sound of his fingers moving in you is obscene, his breath ragged against your skin as he adds a third. you whimper, drool leaking past the panties as he scissors them inside you, stretching you wider. “gonna fuck you so deep you forget how to walk,” he murmurs, biting your shoulder.
suddenly, his fingers are gone, leaving you clenching around nothing. you hear the clink of his belt, the rustle of fabric, then the blunt head of his cock drags through your folds, teasingly. “mhm, still so tight,” he chuckles darkly, pressing just the tip in before pulling back, making you whine into the makeshift gag. “aw, that’s cute. you’re begging already.” he spits on your hole, letting it drip down your thighs before slamming into you in one brutal thrust. the air leaves your lungs in a choked gasp, your body arching off the bed, but his hand plants between your shoulder blades, shoving you back down. “what did i say about moving?”
he doesn’t give you time to adjust, pulling out just enough to slam back in, making you see stars behind the blindfold. his hips snap forward relentlessly, the sound of skin hitting skin filling the room, punctuated by your muffled cries. his fingers dig into your hips, dragging you back onto him with every thrust, the stretch burning deliciously. “fuckkk you take it so well,” he growls, leaning over to bite at the nape of your neck. “bet you’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you? fucking pathetic whore.”
you can’t nod, can’t beg, can’t even whimper properly with yuor mouth stuffed full of your own ruined panties. the drool has soaked through, the fabric clinging to your lips. his hands slide up your back, pressing you harder into the mattress, your face smothered against the sheets. you can barely breathe, every gasping inhale filled with the scent of him, of sweat and of sex.
his hips snap forward again, like he’s trying to carve himself inside you, mark you up from the inside. you feel him everywhere, the stretch bordering on painful, the way his cock drags against your walls with every rough pullback. his fingers dig into your hips, lifting your ass higher, angling you just right so every thrust punches the air from your lungs. he leans down over you, his breath hot against your ear. “you’re gonna take it,” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement. “gonna take every inch like a good little fucktoy, right?”
you whimper, the sound strangled by the fabric in your mouth, and he laughs, low and dark. “yeah, that’s what i thought.” his pace picks up, slamming into you so hard the bed creaks. his hands slide up your back, pressing you down harder, grinding your face into the mattress until your nose aches. “god look at you,” he breathes, fingers tracing the curve of your spine. “so fucking pliant. could do anything to you.”
you’re close, so close, toes curling against the sheets, thighs trembling uncontrollably. just a little more, just a little—
“nuh uh,” he tuts, pulling out abruptly. your hips jerk forward, chasing the friction, but he grips your waist, holding you still. “you don’t get to cum yet.” your chest heaves, body screaming at the sudden loss, the denial sharp enough to make your eyes water. “aw, poor baby,” he coos, dragging his cock through your slick lips. “not yet.”
before you can even process the withdrawal, jay flips you onto your back. the sudden movement makes your head spin, limbs uselessly tangled in the sheets. his fingers snag the blindfold, yanking it off with a sharp tug.
light floods your vision, disorienting and then his hand clamps around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your pulse flutter. “look at me,” he orders, thumb pressing into the hollow of your throat.
you blink up at him, eyelashes sticky with tears, your mouth stretched wide around the soaked fabric. his fingers hook into the panties, pulling them free with a slow, cruel drag that makes you gag strings of saliva clinging to the material before he tosses it aside. “such a messy little thing,” he murmurs wiping your chin with his thumb before shoving it past your lips. “open wider,” he commands, and when you do, he spits right into your mouth, thick and warm. “swallow.”
your throat works around it instinctively, the bitter taste coating your tongue before you can even think to protest. his hand gentles against your cheek, thumb stroking over your swollen lips, with mock tenderness. “good girl,” he coos, pushing two fingers past your teeth.
your jaw aches from the stretch, but you hollow your cheeks obediently while he watches as your tongue swirls around his knuckles, saliva dripping down your chin. “fuck, look at you,” he murmurs, voice dropping into something almost sweet. “so eager to please.”
his free hand cards through your hair, petting you like you’re something precious, even as his fingers fuck deeper into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue until you gag. “shhhh,” he soothes, pulling back just enough to let you breathe. “you’re doing so well.”
but the praise doesn’t last. his fingers disappear with a wet pop, replaced instantly by the thick head of his cock smearing precome across your lips. “clean me up,” he orders, tapping the tip against your tongue. you open wider, letting him push past your teeth until the taste of him floods your senses. you moan around the stretch, eyes fluttering shut, but his fingers tighten in your hair, yanking your head back. “eyes on me,” he growls, hips snapping forward so suddenly you choke, tears welling as his cock hits the back of your throat. “that’s it,” he coos, watching the way your throat struggles to take him. “fucking take it!”
he doesn’t give you time to adjust, fucking your face in rough, shallow thrusts, spit dripping down your chin. his other hand slides down your body, fingers digging into your thigh as he lifts your leg over his shoulder. the sudden shift leaves you spread wide, his bare foot pressing between your thighs. grinding his heel against your clit hard enough to make you jerk. you whimper around his cock, hips rolling instinctively, chasing the pressure even as your throat burns from the brutal pace. he luaghs mockingly as he watches you hump his foot like some desperate animal. “fuck, look at you,” he pants, thumb tracing the hollow of your cheek. “getting off on my shoe like a filthy stray.”
you clench around nothing, hips bucking as he jerks himself off with your mouth, his foot dragging through your slick. he lets you ride the edge for a second before pressing down harder, grinding the rough skin of his sole against your swollen clit. your moan is muffled by his cock, tears streaming down your face as he takes you apart. “god, you’re fucking dripping,” he groans, pulling out just enough to watch your lips stretch around him. “pathetic little thing, huh? gonna cum all over my foot like a whore?”
your thighs tremble, toes curling as pleasure coils tight in your belly until he suddenly yanks your head back by the hair, ripping his cock from your throat. “nah,” he tuts, dragging you upright by your bound wrists. “you don’t get to come like that. the only place you’re cumming is around my cock, understood?” he doesn’t wait for an answer, hands gripping your waist as he lifts you effortlessly, your legs dangling uselessly before he slams you down onto his length in one brutal motion.
the stretch burns, your body splitting open around him as you land hard in his lap, his groan vibrating through your chest where he’s crushed you against him. his hands lock around your waist, fingers digging into bruised skin as he forces you down to the hilt, your thighs trembling against his. “fuck,” he hisses, breath hot against your ear, “you feel that? how fucking deep i am?” you nod frantically, but it’s not enough for him, he needs to hear you say it. his hand snakes up to grip your throat, squeezing until your vision blurs. “say it.”
your voice is wrecked, raw from gagging on him, but you choke out the words anyway, “s-so deep nghhh—“he rewards you with a sharp thrust up, grinding his hips in tight circles that make you see stars.
his fingers tighten around your throat, holding you still as he fucks up into you, the pace relentless, brutal. “gonna milk me dry while i choke you out, huh?”he just laughs, dark and mean.
you’re shaking, thighs pressed tight against his hips, body stretched impossibly wide around him. he doesn’t let you move, doesn’t let you breathe, just keeps grinding up into you in slow, filthy circles that have your toes curling, your cunt clenching around him like a vice. “fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he groans, thumb pressing harder against your windpipe until your vision swims. “greedy little slut. take it. take it all.”
his free hand slides down to your clit, rubbing rough circles that send sparks shooting up your spine. you jerk in his hold, but he just tightens his grip, fingers digging into the bruises already forming on your hips. “that’s it,” he murmurs, “cum for me like a good fucktoy you are.” your thighs tremble, toes curling as the coil in your stomach snaps. white-hot pleasure erupting through you in waves, your cunt pulsing around him in frantic, involuntary clenches. he groans, hips stuttering as your walls milk him relentlessly, his cock throbbing inside you. “fuck, fuck, fucvkkkkkkk—” his voice cracks, fingers bruising your skin as he buries himself to the hilt, spillng his seed deep into your cervix.
for a moment, the only sound is your ragged breathing, his heartbeat thundering against your back. then his fingers release your throat, letting you gasp in air, your head spinning as he leans back against the headboard, dragging you with him. his softening cock slips out of you with a wet sound, his cum leaking down your thighs. “messy, messy,” he sighs, running a hand through your hair almost affectionately, as if he didn’t just fuck you raw. “let’s get you all cleaned up, hm?”
═══════ ♪ 'ooh, flood it like a tidal wave' - tidal wave (c. atlantic)
Heeseung never broke the rules. But a few things slipped out of mind, especially when he was too caught up in his own pleasure.
Riding him, making a whimpering mess out of him, telling him to keep his hands to himself, the show was yours and you were enjoying it.
Then he lifts his hips to match your pace, thrusting roughly as his hands reach up to roam over your tits, breaking the rules.
You slap his hand away, stilling your hips as you grab his face harshly, annoyance laced in your tone.
“What did I say? I said keep your hands by your side, didn't I?”
Heeseung looks up at you, the front of his brows rising up at your tone. He stammers, “I..I’m sorry– just felt..too good.”
“Too good? Felt good breaking my rules huh? So useless, can’t even obey properly,” you said as you lift your hips off his hard cock, now it was left flushed against his stomach leaking pre-cum. You straddle his thighs, feeling them slightly shake underneath you.
He breathes out shakily, “No, please.. I’ll be good. I’ll be good for you..”
You glance down at him with a dark expression, unamused, then you bring your hand down in a sharp, stinging slap across his face.
“Wrong answer. Good for who?”
His eyes widen as he cups his cheek, the corner of his eyes now pooling tears. He breaks eye contact, trying to think of what exactly he did wrong. He glances at you again, confused, “F-for you..?”
Another slap. He swallows hard. More tears well up.
“Please– What’s wrong.. [Name] tell me please..” he whispers with a broken voice.
“[Name]?” Now your sharp nails dig into his waist as you repeat your own name. “You don’t call me that.”
His eyes widen in realization, he broke another rule. Then his choked voice stutters out, he corrects himself, “M-mommy.”
You smirk, loosening your shark grip on his waist, it would definitely leave a mark tomorrow.
“I’m sorry mommy– I forgot. I forgot.. I’m so sorry–” he reaches out to hold your hand, needing something to ground his welling tears, but you refuse, retracting your hand as you scoff.
“You expect me to hold you? After you’ve practically broken almost every single rule?”
“Won’t do it again—”
Slap.
“No please– please mommy,” he trails off as his throat feels constricted. Tears finally spill over, tracing paths down his cheeks. He's a beautiful, crying mess, all for you.
You can see the genuine regret in his eyes, the desperate need for your forgiveness.
“M-mommy I.. you just made me feel so good I couldn’t help it,” he now looks up at you with the most needy and heartbreaking expression you’ve seen.
"I’ll accept it. But will you be a good boy this time?”
Heeseung’s eyes light up, he nods frantically, stuttering breaths calming down as he looks at you with that hopeful glint in his eyes.
You lower your hips back down, not to take him inside you, but to press your wet core against his cock. You rock slowly, torturous, keeping him on edge despite him wanting to be inside you so bad.
He bites his lip, holding back from grinding his hips with you. He knew if he did, you’d be worse on him than moments before.
You rocked faster, rubbing your wetness on his dick as he moaned underneath you. Not a whimper, a full on moan.
It made you even wetter. And he felt it. He groaned.
“Mommy–! Faster.. Please..” he breathed out, stopping himself from reaching out and guiding your hips.
“Wanna feel you.. You’re so wet already.. please?” you met his wide, pleading eyes.
Something in you couldn’t refuse those eyes. Your pretty boy was being so desperate.
“You can touch me now baby,” as soon as you gave him permission, he did everything he wanted so desperately to.
Heeseung leans forward, taking your lips in a messy kiss before he guides your hips back down on his cock. “Mmh– mommy, you feel amazing.”
You set a punishing pace, riding him hard, your hips slamming down against his. His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips, holding on for dear life. He doesn't try to control you, but as you lift up and sink back down, his own hips twitch up to meet you, a reflex he can't contain.
“Heeseung– fuck..” you finally moan, feeling your high build up as he thrusts up into you.
He swallows hearing your moan, his hand now reaching up to caress your tits. You hum in response, smiling softly at his attempt to make you feel good.
"You wanna be a good boy? You wanna make me feel real good?"
He nods, his eyes wide and pleading. "Mhm, anything…mommy."
"Let go of my hip," you order. He obeys almost immediately.
"Take your other hand…rub me. I’m close.”
He hesitates for a split second, overwhelmed by the command. His hand trembles as he releases your hip. His fingers, slick with his own tears and sweat, fumble for a moment before they find your clit. He was clumsy at first, his movements erratic from you riding him hard.
Heeseung’s fingers find the perfect rhythm, matching the frantic pace of your hips. The dual stimulation was too much. Your vision whites out, a choked whimper ripped from your throat.
"Mommy, please," he whimpers too, his voice cracking as he feels your walls start to flutter around him. "I can't hold on... please let me come..."
"Come with me," you command, your voice strained.
Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave.
Your body convulses, his fingers work you through your high. The feeling of you pulsing tight around him makes him let go as well. With a strangled cry, and a half sob, he comes undone, spilling into you.
But you don't stop.
Taking in a choked breath, you keep moving your hips. You knew the overstimulation was worse on him than you. A broken sob escapes his throat as his legs tremble underneath you.
"Mommy– please, can’t.. can’t" he cries, fresh tears streaming down his face.
Then a series of broken pleas follow, along with moans and whimpers. Begging you to stop, but he didn’t have the guts to push you off.
So you kept going despite.
"It's too much, I can't, please, it hurts, please!"
“Mommy..”
“Ah– fuck.”
“M-mommy.. Please..!”
Heeseung was now completely spent.
A crying, trembling mess beneath you, as he comes again.
You finally still, but he leant up and kissed you before either of you could catch your breath. It was sweet, not rushed.
After a moment you try to pull away, but he keeps you in his embrace, hugging you. You smile at the neediness.
“Good boy..”
been wanting to write hee with a mommy kink ajsdhsf i had to do this one immediately when i got into bed after christmas, like i may be just a little tipsy rn but.
═══════ ♪ 'ooh, flood it like a tidal wave' - tidal wave (c. atlantic)
Heeseung never broke the rules. But a few things slipped out of mind, especially when he was too caught up in his own pleasure.
Riding him, making a whimpering mess out of him, telling him to keep his hands to himself, the show was yours and you were enjoying it.
Then he lifts his hips to match your pace, thrusting roughly as his hands reach up to roam over your tits, breaking the rules.
You slap his hand away, stilling your hips as you grab his face harshly, annoyance laced in your tone.
“What did I say? I said keep your hands by your side, didn't I?”
Heeseung looks up at you, the front of his brows rising up at your tone. He stammers, “I..I’m sorry– just felt..too good.”
“Too good? Felt good breaking my rules huh? So useless, can’t even obey properly,” you said as you lift your hips off his hard cock, now it was left flushed against his stomach leaking pre-cum. You straddle his thighs, feeling them slightly shake underneath you.
He breathes out shakily, “No, please.. I’ll be good. I’ll be good for you..”
You glance down at him with a dark expression, unamused, then you bring your hand down in a sharp, stinging slap across his face.
“Wrong answer. Good for who?”
His eyes widen as he cups his cheek, the corner of his eyes now pooling tears. He breaks eye contact, trying to think of what exactly he did wrong. He glances at you again, confused, “F-for you..?”
Another slap. He swallows hard. More tears well up.
“Please– What’s wrong.. [Name] tell me please..” he whispers with a broken voice.
“[Name]?” Now your sharp nails dig into his waist as you repeat your own name. “You don’t call me that.”
His eyes widen in realization, he broke another rule. Then his choked voice stutters out, he corrects himself, “M-mommy.”
You smirk, loosening your shark grip on his waist, it would definitely leave a mark tomorrow.
“I’m sorry mommy– I forgot. I forgot.. I’m so sorry–” he reaches out to hold your hand, needing something to ground his welling tears, but you refuse, retracting your hand as you scoff.
“You expect me to hold you? After you’ve practically broken almost every single rule?”
“Won’t do it again—”
Slap.
“No please– please mommy,” he trails off as his throat feels constricted. Tears finally spill over, tracing paths down his cheeks. He's a beautiful, crying mess, all for you.
You can see the genuine regret in his eyes, the desperate need for your forgiveness.
“M-mommy I.. you just made me feel so good I couldn’t help it,” he now looks up at you with the most needy and heartbreaking expression you’ve seen.
"I’ll accept it. But will you be a good boy this time?”
Heeseung’s eyes light up, he nods frantically, stuttering breaths calming down as he looks at you with that hopeful glint in his eyes.
You lower your hips back down, not to take him inside you, but to press your wet core against his cock. You rock slowly, torturous, keeping him on edge despite him wanting to be inside you so bad.
He bites his lip, holding back from grinding his hips with you. He knew if he did, you’d be worse on him than moments before.
You rocked faster, rubbing your wetness on his dick as he moaned underneath you. Not a whimper, a full on moan.
It made you even wetter. And he felt it. He groaned.
“Mommy–! Faster.. Please..” he breathed out, stopping himself from reaching out and guiding your hips.
“Wanna feel you.. You’re so wet already.. please?” you met his wide, pleading eyes.
Something in you couldn’t refuse those eyes. Your pretty boy was being so desperate.
“You can touch me now baby,” as soon as you gave him permission, he did everything he wanted so desperately to.
Heeseung leans forward, taking your lips in a messy kiss before he guides your hips back down on his cock. “Mmh– mommy, you feel amazing.”
You set a punishing pace, riding him hard, your hips slamming down against his. His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips, holding on for dear life. He doesn't try to control you, but as you lift up and sink back down, his own hips twitch up to meet you, a reflex he can't contain.
“Heeseung– fuck..” you finally moan, feeling your high build up as he thrusts up into you.
He swallows hearing your moan, his hand now reaching up to caress your tits. You hum in response, smiling softly at his attempt to make you feel good.
"You wanna be a good boy? You wanna make me feel real good?"
He nods, his eyes wide and pleading. "Mhm, anything…mommy."
"Let go of my hip," you order. He obeys almost immediately.
"Take your other hand…rub me. I’m close.”
He hesitates for a split second, overwhelmed by the command. His hand trembles as he releases your hip. His fingers, slick with his own tears and sweat, fumble for a moment before they find your clit. He was clumsy at first, his movements erratic from you riding him hard.
Heeseung’s fingers find the perfect rhythm, matching the frantic pace of your hips. The dual stimulation was too much. Your vision whites out, a choked whimper ripped from your throat.
"Mommy, please," he whimpers too, his voice cracking as he feels your walls start to flutter around him. "I can't hold on... please let me come..."
"Come with me," you command, your voice strained.
Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave.
Your body convulses, his fingers work you through your high. The feeling of you pulsing tight around him makes him let go as well. With a strangled cry, and a half sob, he comes undone, spilling into you.
But you don't stop.
Taking in a choked breath, you keep moving your hips. You knew the overstimulation was worse on him than you. A broken sob escapes his throat as his legs tremble underneath you.
"Mommy– please, can’t.. can’t" he cries, fresh tears streaming down his face.
Then a series of broken pleas follow, along with moans and whimpers. Begging you to stop, but he didn’t have the guts to push you off.
So you kept going despite.
"It's too much, I can't, please, it hurts, please!"
“Mommy..”
“Ah– fuck.”
“M-mommy.. Please..!”
Heeseung was now completely spent.
A crying, trembling mess beneath you, as he comes again.
You finally still, but he leant up and kissed you before either of you could catch your breath. It was sweet, not rushed.
After a moment you try to pull away, but he keeps you in his embrace, hugging you. You smile at the neediness.
“Good boy..”
been wanting to write hee with a mommy kink ajsdhsf i had to do this one immediately when i got into bed after christmas, like i may be just a little tipsy rn but.
» summary: jake was stuck. sex had gotten boring, always the same routine, nothing exciting enough to stick in his head. he wasn’t exactly searching for something new, but when a stupid bdsm test came up in conversation with you, he found himself way too curious. suddenly, he’s researching kinks at 3am, making reddit posts like an idiot, and realizing that maybe he doesn’t just want answers, he wants to try them with you. and maybe all he wants right now is ask: i don’t wanna be just friends, don’t wanna be away from you, can i be a pet?
✰ pairing: jake x fem!reader // ✰ genre: smut (mdni!!), friends to lovers, college au, slowburn-ish #nowplaying » cat & dog - tomorrow x together | mutt - leon thomas | wet dreamz - j. cole | doo wop (that thing) - lauryn hill | mrs. officer - lil wayne | so fresh, so clean - outkast | word count: 28k
!! warnings: smut (mdni), smut, unprotected sex (do not do it!!), petplay, brat!reader x brat tamer!jake, power dynamics, bdsm dynamics, alcohol and weed consumption, anal play, oral sex (m and f receiving), size kink, fingering, squirting, degradation and praising kink, dirty talk, rough sex, bitch the whole thing they are freaky lmao
JAKE SIM HAD THIS REPUTATION AROUND CAMPUS, AND HE KNEW IT. he wasn’t the type to deny it either, he kind of leaned into it. he had the face, he had the charm, the easy smile that worked on almost anyone, and he was well aware that people liked talking about him. he wasn’t shy about the fact that he hooked up with a lot of girls, not in a bragging way, more like he genuinely didn’t see the point of pretending otherwise. if he wanted something, he went for it, and most of the time he got it.
the funny part was that it never really felt like enough. people would assume he was satisfied, like he had it all figured out, but the truth was, after a while, it all started blending together. same kind of nights, same routines, same conversations that ended in the same place. he liked it in the moment, of course, he wasn’t going to lie about that, but he always went home with this weird feeling, like something was missing, and it wasn’t the whole “looking for love” thing either. it was more that he wanted something different, something he couldn’t even name yet.
he wasn’t the type to sit around and analyze himself too much, but he noticed the pattern. no matter how many people he fucked, he’d end up lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking, is that really it?
he didn’t talk about it with anyone, because what was he supposed to say? “yeah i’m sleeping with half the campus but i’m still kind of bored”? that would sound ridiculous. and you knew him enough to know the image he carried, everyone did, but what people didn’t really see was that restless part of him, the part that kept looking for something he couldn’t find. and he hated admitting it, but lately he started realizing that maybe the problem wasn’t the girls or the sex itself, maybe the problem was that he wanted to try things he didn’t even know how to explain without sounding insane.
“you ever feel like… sex is just the same shit over and over?” jake asked, not even looking directly at sunghoon while the fifa match rolled on his tv.
sunghoon paused the game immediately, which already said a lot, because sunghoon never paused fifa for anything. he turned to look at jake dead in the eye. “what the fuck are you talking about?”
“i’m serious,” jake said, sighing. “like, yeah, it’s good, but sometimes i’m just… i don’t know, bored.”
sunghoon started laughing so hard he almost dropped the controller. “you? bored? mr. i-had-sex-in-the-theater-bathroom last week? nah. shut the fuck up.”
“that’s exactly what i mean!” jake argued, leaning forward. “it’s always the same shit. hook up, make out, fuck, pass out. repeat. i’m telling you, i feel like there’s supposed to be more, but i don’t know what the hell that is.”
“okay,” sunghoon said, nodding like he was being thoughtful, but his grin gave him away. “so what you’re saying is… your dick’s tired.”
“that’s not what i said.”
“sounds like what you said.”
before jake could fire back, the door creaked open and heeseung walked in with a bag of chips and a joint between his fingers, looking like he hadn’t slept in two days. he glanced at the tv, took a drag, then looked at them. “you guys talking about gooning?”
“kinda,” sunghoon answered instantly, pointing at jake. “apparently mr. campus heartthrob is bored of pussy.”
heeseung raised an eyebrow, ripped open the chips, and sat down on the armrest. “wow. should we throw you a funeral?”
jake groaned and buried his face in his hands. “you guys are fucking useless.”
“nah, bro, i’m serious,” sunghoon said, nudging him with his foot. “maybe you just need some freaky shit. like, tie someone up, put on a costume, bark a little. switch it up.”
“the fuck are you even saying?” jake shot back, but the way his ears went red didn’t go unnoticed.
heeseung caught it instantly, grinning like a devil. “wait. wait. oh my god. jake wants to bark.”
“shut the fuck up,” jake muttered, ending the conversation.
but the thing is, jake thought sometimes about barking. i mean, not literally standing in someone’s room on all fours going woof, but the thought of something that wasn’t just the usual sex crossed his mind more than once. like, there had to be people out there doing shit that wasn’t just missionary or whatever. he wasn’t about to admit it out loud to sunghoon or heeseung because he knew they’d never let it go, but after that night, the whole “maybe you need to bark” thing kept replaying in his head. and he didn’t immediately shut it down. he laughed in front of them, told them they were idiots, but later that week, lying in bed at two a.m., he actually caught himself googling “unconventional sex stuff.”
that’s how he ended up on reddit. it wasn’t even intentional, he just clicked link after link until suddenly he was in some forum full of people talking about kinks like they were trading recipes. half the stuff freaked him out, the other half made him curious in a way he didn’t know how to process. he didn’t think he was a freak, but then again, maybe he was, because none of this was coming up in regular conversations, and he clearly couldn’t bring it up to his friends without being clowned for the rest of his life.
so one night, after reading through threads for way too long, he gave in and made a throwaway account.
r/TooAfraidToAsk
u/australianlebron127 | 12m
i feel like i’m bored of sex but don’t know what i’m looking for, is that normal?
i’m a 23 year old male and i’ve been pretty active since like freshman year of college. i’ve hooked up with a lot of people, and i guess on the outside it sounds cool, but honestly it all feels the same and i keep thinking i’m missing something. my friends make jokes about “freaky stuff” and once someone even said i probably just need to bark or whatever, which was stupid, but now i can’t stop thinking maybe i actually do need something like that.
i don’t even know what i’m into, i just know regular sex feels kind of… repetitive. i’m not in a relationship and i’m not looking for love advice or anything like that, i’m just wondering if it’s normal to feel like this or if i should be trying to figure out what i like more. and if i should… how do you even start? like i can’t just ask someone “hey wanna let me experiment with you” right? idk.
after he posted it, jake shut his laptop like he just confessed a crime. he honestly thought no one would even read it, but the next morning when he checked again, there were already a bunch of replies. some of them were just people trolling him, like one guy wrote “bro just buy a dildo and stop crying,” which didn’t help at all, but there were also some longer comments from people who actually sounded like they knew what they were talking about.
one person wrote something like, “you don’t have to know your kink right away, just pay attention to what sticks in your head. if something makes you curious, that’s worth exploring.” another person said, “try to communicate with partners, you’d be surprised how many people are also bored of ‘regular’ sex and want to experiment too.” and then there was one comment that just said, “maybe you’re into power dynamics. look into dom/sub stuff, that’s usually a good starting point.”
jake read through all of them with his face buried in his pillow, feeling like if anyone walked in and saw what he was doing, he’d have to transfer schools immediately. but at the same time, it made him feel a little less crazy. apparently, other people were going through the same thing, or at least close enough. he wasn’t the only one who felt like sex got repetitive after a while. still, he didn’t know what to do with that information. he wasn’t about to sit sunghoon down and say, “hey bro, what do you think my kink is?” and he sure as hell wasn’t going to test this out with some random hookup from a party. if he was going to try anything new, he wanted it to be with someone who actually knew him, someone he trusted not to laugh in his face.
and that’s when he remembered you.
he met you through jungwon and sunoo. you were always around, more like part of the background of the friend group. jake thought you were cool, funny without trying too hard, and yeah, obviously really hot, but he never made a move because you weren’t like the other girls he usually talked to at parties. you didn’t even go to half the parties. when he did see you, you were usually laughing with your friends, completely unbothered by whatever was going on around. you never hooked up, never even flirted, but there was this one time that stuck with him.
he was walking past in the middle of a random conversation between you and sunoo, and he caught enough of it to never forget. you were holding your phone, laughing so hard, and you went, “who the fuck gets a hundred percent vanilla on the bdsm test? you have to try to be that boring.”
sunoo immediately grabbed the phone from you, yelling, “shut up! you literally got ninety-six percent petplay, you freak! what are you even talking about?”
jake didn’t even know what to do with that information at the time, but he remembered the way you just laughed and shrugged, like it was nothing. he laughed too, mostly because sunoo looked like he was about to pass out from embarrassment, but the conversation burned into his brain. now, weeks later, lying in bed after scrolling through way too many reddit threads about kinks, that memory hit him again, like his brain suddenly pulled out a file he didn’t realize he kept. and you sounded so comfortable with it, like talking about sex wasn’t this big taboo topic.
jake thought about it more than once after that, and now, with all this restless energy in his head, it started to feel like a sign. maybe you weren’t close, maybe you weren’t the person he texted at two in the morning, but you were the only person he could think of who might not laugh in his face if he admitted he was… curious. so he picked up his phone, scrolled through his contacts until he found your name, and stared at it for a solid minute like the letters might rearrange themselves into “don’t do this.” then, because he was jake, he typed something dumb and hit send before he could overthink it.
jake: yo do u know if the cafeteria is still selling those massive cookies or did they stop
you didn’t answer right away, which made him instantly regret his entire life, but then the screen lit up.
you: why are you texting me about cookies at 11pm
you: and yes they still sell them lol
he grinned, already feeling lighter.
jake: good to know
jake: important info
there was a pause, and then you sent back:
you: you’re so weird sometimes
he laughed out loud at that. it was stupid, but it gave him enough courage to type what he really wanted.
jake: hey random question tho
jake: u remember that bdsm test thing u joked about w sunoo once
jake: do u still have the link perchance
he stared at the message after sending it, suddenly way too aware of how insane it looked. but it was too late, it was out there. his brain was screaming at him that this was either the best idea he ever had or the dumbest one, and he wouldn’t know which until you answered, but your reply came quicker than he expected.
you: LMAO jake why are u asking me this
you: are u abt to send me ur result rn bc i wanna see
you: don’t lie i KNOW ur not 100% vanilla
you dropped the link right after, and jake felt his stomach twist because now he had no excuse. he clicked it. the layout looked ancient, like a quiz someone coded in 2005, but it was apparently the same test everyone online swore by.
he started reading the questions, and it was instantly ridiculous. stuff like “would you enjoy being tied up?” or “would you enjoy tying someone else up?” and the scale went from “absolutely not” to “hell yes.” jake sat there, thinking way harder than he expected. some of them were easy to answer—no, he didn’t want to be whipped until he couldn’t walk—but others made him hesitate, like maybe he’d try it, maybe it didn’t sound that bad.
when the petplay questions showed up, he froze for a second. he could practically hear sunghoon in his head going “bro, bark,” and it made him want to close the tab, but at the same time… he didn’t click “absolutely not.” he thought about it, sighed, and picked “maybe.”
twenty minutes later, the results loaded on his screen in neat little percentages, like it was about to diagnose him with something.
jake stared at the screen. part of him wanted to laugh, part of him wanted to throw his phone out the window, and another part of him just thought: yeah, that actually makes sense. he sat there, debating whether sending it to you would make him look confident or like the biggest clown alive. but you had asked to see it, and he kind of did want to know what you’d say. so he did send you the screenshots, three images of his percentages sitting in your chat, and you answered almost instantly.
you: LMAOOO
you: okay i expected switch 100% bc u give off that vibe
you: but 94% pet?? never in my life would i have guessed that
jake felt his ears burn. he didn’t even know what that was supposed to mean, but the way you typed it made him smile anyway.
jake: bro don’t act like u weren’t the one clowning sunoo abt this shit
you: yeah but i didn’t expect u to be secretly into meowing
jake: i didn’t say i’m into that
you: mhmmm the math says otherwise jakey
he groaned and threw his phone onto his pillow, but then picked it right back up. he wanted to defend himself, but at the same time, it felt good that you weren’t making it weird. you were teasing him, yeah, but it was soft, like the way you’d tease a friend. even though jake didn’t know if friend was the right word.
jake: alright then, where’s urs
you: oh i’m not sending mine
jake: tf why not
you: bc it’s funnier to let u wonder
jake: wtf does that mean
you: it means one day maybe i’ll show u in person idk
jake stared at that message for a solid minute. in person? what do you mean “in person”? he had no idea if you were flirting, being sarcastic, or just messing with him for fun. either way, the thought lodged itself in his brain immediately and refused to leave. he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with that, but his brain decided to run off with it anyway. like maybe, hypothetically, if one day you actually did drop to your knees in front of him and said “meow,” he wouldn’t hate it. actually, he might really, really not hate it.
so that week jake couldn’t stop thinking about it. so naturally, at three in the morning when any normal person would be asleep, he was hunched over his laptop, typing “what is petplay kink” into google like some dad learning how to use tiktok.
the first page of results didn’t help much. there were a bunch of articles that tried to sound educational but were really just people overexplaining, and then there were forums with way too many details he wasn’t ready for. he clicked through anyway, and five minutes later he was learning that apparently some people actually bought collars for this stuff, and leashes, and there was a whole thing about drinking water from bowls. he sat back in his chair, “no way,” he muttered to himself. “there’s no way i’m buying a dog bowl.” but then another part of him was like… okay, maybe not the bowl, but the collar thing? that didn’t sound as insane.
he kept scrolling. one post talked about how petplay wasn’t always about barking or crawling around, sometimes it was just about roles, like playfulness, obedience, teasing. that part made more sense to him. then he fell into another rabbit hole, this time about “brat taming.” apparently it meant dealing with someone who liked to push back, tease, talk back until you had to put them in their place. jake read three different threads about it and had to close the tab because, yeah, he was definitely into that.
he shut his laptop after an hour of scrolling, face buried in his hands, because what the hell was he even doing? one week ago he was just another guy with too much free time, and now he was sitting there seriously wondering if buying a collar off amazon would be insane or just a solid investment. and the kicker was, every time he thought about it, your face showed up in his head.
so when he saw you for the first time after that, he felt something weird going on around his pants. and jake wasn’t a fucking teen anymore, he wasn’t gonna get hard just by looking at a girl, but somehow he was… semi hard. it had been a long time since that happened out of nowhere and he thought it was kind of strange, like his body was reminding him of things he hadn’t thought about in months.
you looked up from your laptop, saw him, and smiled. that smile — bright, easy — made him immediately forget that anything felt weird. you waved, and jake had to remind himself to actually walk toward you instead of standing there like a moron.
“hey!” you called, motioning him over. “come sit.” you were sitting at a table with jungwon and sunoo, laptop open in front of you. jungwon was typing something, sunoo was scrolling on his phone, “so… did you get the giant cookie from the cafeteria or what?” you asked, a playful grin on your face.
jake internally thanked you, harder than he wanted to admit, for not bringing up the test. one, because he would have died of embarrassment with jungwon and sunoo there, and two, because honestly, thinking about it again might have made him get hard all over again in the middle of the library cafe. “uh… no, not yet,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady and not make it sound like his entire body was having a meeting about you.
“oh, okay,” you said, opening your laptop wider. “we can grab some after i finish this thing.”
he slid into the chair next to you, careful not to get too close, careful not to breathe like he was dying, and just tried to act like a normal human. which, for jake, was hard work when you were smiling at him like that.
after a while, you both got up and headed to the cafeteria. he was quieter, more reserved, but trying to respond, trying to interact without sounding like he was hyperventilating. by the time you got to the display with all the cookies, it was just the two of you. jake tried to act casual while his brain reminded him that he was, somehow, still semi hard and that his body was apparently having its own agenda today. he felt like a complete freak but the thought made him laugh at himself.
“so… chocolate cookie?” you asked, eyes sparkling, and then paused dramatically. “or are you gonna switch to vanilla?” you emphasized the word switch, looking at him like you knew exactly what you were doing.
jake couldn’t help it. he laughed out loud. “oh, okay, i see what you’re doing,” he said, shaking his head. it was ridiculous, and he felt ridiculous, but in a way that made him feel… funny.
“what? i’m just trying to make cookie decisions fun,” you said, smirking, clearly loving that you got a reaction out of him.
“yeah yeah, sure,” he replied, and then couldn’t resist pushing a little. “sooo… you said you were gonna show me your result personally, remember?”
you tilted your head, mock-serious. “wow, curious, aren’t you?”
he felt his face heat up, part embarrassment, part horniness, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how casual you were about all this. am i really getting turned on by a conversation about cookies and some quiz? he thought, mentally cursing himself, and then laughed a little because, yeah, apparently he was. “i mean… i’m not curious,” he said, though he was. “i just… maybe want to see it. for science.”
“mhmm, for science,” you repeated, grinning, clearly reading right through him. you sat down at a table after paying for the cookies, you opened your laptop casually, and started scrolling through your results. “alright, so… brace yourself,” you said, smiling at him, “here.” jake leaned a little closer, trying not to stare too obviously at your face and also trying not to think about other… possibilities.
jake blinked a few times, and his brain immediately went to the oh shit this is hot mode. he felt his stomach tighten and had to consciously remind himself to breathe. he tried not to picture too much, trying not to lose it right there in front of you. after a beat, he swallowed and forced his voice casual. “yeah… i mean… i kinda imagined your result being something like this.”
you raised an eyebrow, grinning like you knew exactly what he was thinking. “ahh, so you were thinking about my results, huh?”
jake felt his face heat up instantly, but he couldn’t help laughing a little. “shut up…” he said after you teased, clearly enjoying the fact that he was squirming just a bit.
“never thought you’d be into petplay,” you said casually, glancing at him.
“me neither,” he admitted, a little embarrassed. “i’ve never actually done it.”
“oh really?” you teased. “but it’s on your test.”
“yeah… i’m just… assuming i’d like it,” he said, shrugging. “never explored my kinks before. that’s why i did the test.”
you smiled at him, eyes soft. “honestly, i get it. it’s fine. makes sense.”
for some reason, hearing you say that made him feel comfortable, thinking how nice it was to have someone he could actually talk to about it. you kept talking about the results, scrolling through different percentages, laughing at some of the weirder ones, shaking your heads at others, like “who the hell is this person” kind of stuff. jake felt like he could actually breathe a little easier, like maybe exploring this shit didn’t have to be some big awkward thing.
and then he caught himself thinking about it — again, for the hundredth time — that maybe having you actually… participate in some of it wouldn’t be that bad. like, actually being there while you did the petplay stuff or teased him, whatever. and the thought hit him in a weird way that made him grin like a complete idiot, because yeah, it was exciting, and yeah, he could feel that familiar tightness in his pants again.
so after that, jake found himself doing more research about things you might like. he didn’t even know why he was looking this stuff up. he told himself it was curiosity, like he was just trying to understand a phenomenon or something, but deep down he knew it was more than that.
he was intrigued by the kinks, by the way you’d come across as so… private. he’d never seen you with anyone, never heard stories about your experiences, and somehow that made him hornier and more curious at the same time. the weirdest part was that he felt like he knew a lot about you because of that damn bdsm test, but also realized he didn’t know shit—whereas you probably knew tons of stories about him and his past hookups.
eventually he went back to reddit. of course he did. he found a server for kinks and typed out a post, hesitating over every word, trying not to make himself sound like a total weirdo.
r/kink_advice
u/australianlebron127 | 3m
how do i talk to a friend about mutual kinks?
hi, i’m a 23m and i have this friend (24f), she’s cool, funny, super private, and i think maybe we like the same kinks. we’ve talked a little about bdsm stuff and she shared her results on this bdsm test once, which were very similar to mine. i’m curious and want to maybe explore things with her, but i have no idea how to even bring it up without making it weird. any advice?
the replies came fast. some were generic, like “just be honest and communicate,” or “don’t push anything she’s not into.” but then one comment made him stop scrolling for a second.
comment: if she’s into petplay or praising kink, just call her a good girl out of nowhere and see how she reacts, or tell her to behave.
jake stared at that comment for longer than he should have. he couldn’t believe that the solution was potentially so simple, and also so terrifying. he wasn’t sure if it was genius or completely insane.
so he thought about putting the plan into practice that weekend, at the frat party. he already knew you’d be there because you’d mentioned jungwon and chaewon had been bugging you to go, and for jake, that sounded like the perfect opportunity. when he got to the house, sunghoon shoved a drink into his hand before he could even say hi, and riki was already trying to drag him outside to smoke a joint. jake brushed both of them off with a laugh, sipping the drink just to keep sunghoon from nagging, and then he saw you.
you were across the room, leaning against the counter with chaewon, laughing about something. you weren’t dressed overly flashy, nothing insane, just jeans and a cropped tank top that showed a sliver of skin when you moved, and your hair pulled back like you didn’t even try that hard. but for some reason, to jake, it looked better than half the girls in glitter dresses floating around the place.
he felt his stomach tighten in that same way it had the other day, and he had to stop himself from grinning too obviously. you had this golden retriever kind of energy, the kind of person who always smiled when someone waved, always asked how people were doing, and jake had that too, except his version usually came with flirting and ending up in someone’s bed.
he could feel the stares of other girls in the room, some who he’d already hooked up with, some who he knew wanted to. he caught one or two smiling at him, making the kind of eye contact that usually meant come over here later, and he knew he could. he could pick almost anyone in the room if he wanted. but for once, he wasn’t interested. the whole point tonight was you.
jake took another sip of his drink and pushed through the crowd, his eyes flicking back to you every other second. he was hyping himself up in his head, thinking about that stupid reddit comment and whether he was actually crazy enough to try it out. every step closer to you, the thought kept repeating in his head: good girl. just say it once. see what happens.
so he walked up to you, slid into that little circle, and went, “hey,” giving you and chaewon a nod. you both greeted him back, chaewon with her usual dry smile and you with that bright one that always made him feel like you were actually happy to see him, even if it was just a quick hello at a loud party.
the conversation was easy, just small talk but not awkward. eventually chaewon excused herself to get a drink, and right then minjeong walked past. she gave jake a quick once over and stopped long enough to rest her hand on his shoulder, leaning in with a smile that was way too obvious. “jake, later come find me, okay?” she said in that flirty tone that didn’t leave much room for interpretation. he just gave a small nod, polite enough but already knowing he wasn’t going to.
when she walked off, you tilted your head and started laughing under your breath. “wow,” you said, dragging the word out, “how many girls here have you hooked up with?”
jake immediately shook his head, pressing his lips together like he was trying not to laugh. “not that many,” he said, though even he knew it sounded weak.
you raised your brows, clearly amused. “and none of them made you wanna… what was it again? meow?” you asked, grinning at him like you were way too proud of yourself for remembering.
he froze for a second, caught completely off guard, before he tried to play it cool. “you’re not letting that go, huh?” he leaned in a little, lowering his voice like it might soften the blow of how flustered he actually was. “but, i mean, maybe it’s because none of them knew how to behave like you, i think.”
he said it half teasing, half testing, and his smile was trying to cover the way his heart was picking up. you squinted at him, amused but confused, and went, “what do you mean behave like me?”
jake didn’t even hesitate. “uh, it was in your test. brat, sub, pet, you know what i’m talking about.”
you let out this little laugh, shaking your head. “ok, that’s in my test, but you don’t know if i’m actually like that in real life. you literally said you’ve never done petplay, and you’re just assuming you’d like it.”
he shrugged, leaning back slightly, but his eyes stayed on you. “yeah, but have you done it?” his tone was way too direct for the middle of a crowded party.
you laughed again, but this time it was softer, like you were a little embarrassed. “uh… yeah.”
jake grinned, instantly smug. “then there you go. point proven. you do behave.” you didn’t say anything right away, and that threw him off, because you were almost never quiet around him. you just looked at him for a second, like you were deciding something in your head. so he tilted his head and asked, “what?”
“nothing,” you said quickly, then paused. “just thinking if you’ve ever even talked about this with anyone else before.”
he scratched the back of his neck, a little awkward now. “not really. i mean, sunghoon once told me i should bark at someone to see if i’d like it, but i didn’t take him seriously.”
you cracked up at that, covering your mouth for a second. “maybe minjeong would like that. i don’t know. you could always try it on her.”
and that was the moment it hit him, clear as day. he didn’t want to try anything with minjeong. he didn’t want to test it out with some random girl who was already halfway throwing herself at him. he wanted you.
before he could say anything though, you excused yourself, saying you were gonna grab some water or check on chaewon or something, and then you slipped into the crowd. jake stood there for a second, realizing that if he actually wanted this to go anywhere with you, he was gonna have to be more direct about it. no more hiding behind jokes or waiting for you to bring it up.
after a while, jake found you by the drinks table, leaning against it with a plastic cup in your hand. you were turned, and when you noticed him coming over, you gave him this small smile, the kind you always did that looked automatic. “can you fill mine up too?” he asked, holding out his cup.
“sure,” you said, reaching for the tap and tilting his cup under it.
the words came out of him before he even thought about them. “good girl.”
you froze for a second. like, literally stopped mid-pour. then you turned your head slowly to look at him. “what’d you say?”
he didn’t flinch. “i called you a good girl.”
he had no idea where the confidence was coming from. maybe from the fact that he hadn’t gotten laid in weeks, maybe from the way you’d been laughing at his teasing earlier, maybe from too much beer, maybe from all of that. but he didn’t look away. you held his gaze for a moment, then nodded once, finished filling his cup, and handed it back to him.
he grinned. “what? did you get flustered at that?”
“shut up, jake,” you said, but you were smiling, trying to hide it, and then you turned and walked off before he could say anything else.
he’d said it once, and you didn’t blow him off, didn’t get weird, didn’t shut it down. if anything, you’d reacted. ok, he thought, taking a sip, i need to be even more direct.
later that night, jake found himself outside, because jake was jake and he couldn’t say no to a blunt rotation with his friends. he was leaning back against the side of the house with heeseung and beomgyu, all of them passing around a joint. heeseung was halfway into some rant about how he thinks all stanley cups are potentially weapons when you came bouncing out the door.
“wow,” you said immediately, spotting them. “look at you guys, stoner squad.” you laughed, light and teasing, but not mean.
jake felt that stupid twitch in his pants he’d been fighting all night right away and he hated himself for it. you weren’t even doing anything. you were just smiling like always, tail wagging friendly, and somehow that was enough to get him semi hard again.
he held the joint out to you. “want some?”
you tilted your head, eyes narrowing like you were weighing it. “hm. it’s been a while. i don’t know how i’ll react.” but you took it anyway. your fingers brushed his as you grabbed it, then you brought it to your lips, inhaling slow. jake couldn’t stop watching the way your chest rose and the way you let the smoke slip out through your lips. then you looked up at him, big doe eyes, blinking like a puppy, and it wasn’t just the weed. that was a look, and he knew that look. he saw it tons of times before from other girls he knew that wanted him to fuck them.
“you did good,” he said quietly, the words almost slipping out of his mouth on their own. his voice was low, soft but steady. praising.
you blinked, eyes widening a little, and then, of course, you smiled. not your usual grin, but this smaller one, just for him. you passed the joint back to him, and didn’t say anything. jake smirked, turned, and shoved the joint back at heeseung and beomgyu. then he leaned in closer, lowering his voice so only they could hear. “you two get the fuck outta here.”
heeseung frowned like he was about to argue, but beomgyu caught on quick, grabbed his arm, and dragged him off with the joint still in his hand. jake barely noticed, his eyes were already back on you. he could feel that edge of nervous energy sitting in his chest.
“you know,” he started, voice little lower than usual, “i’ve been thinking a lot about that test we took.”
you tilted your head, sipping the last of your drink. “oh yeah?”
he let out a quick laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “yeah. like, i’ve always wanted to try some of that stuff with someone, but i never really had anyone to test it out with.”
you snorted, but it wasn’t mean, it was playful. “come on, jake. you’re telling me you’ve had no one to test kinks with? that’s new. that’s not the jake i know.”
he laughed too, shaking his head, stepping just a little closer. “come on, you know that’s not what i mean.”
“how’s it not what you mean?” you asked, raising your brows like you were calling him out. “jake, there are at least ten girls in this house right now that i’ve personally heard say they’d do literally anything you asked. you’ve gotta be more confident.”
“the problem,” he said, this time leaning in slightly, his eyes flicking down to your mouth before back up, “is that i don’t want just anyone.”
you paused, holding his gaze, and your lips tugged into this little smirk. “then be confident and ask the person you actually want.”
you said it so obviously, like you were spelling it out for him, and jake knew you’d already figured it out. you weren’t running from it either, which only made his pulse faster. he forced himself to stay calm, not too flirty, just enough to keep it casual, smug in the only way he knew how to handle this. “look,” he said, “i know this might sound a little out of nowhere, but when i say i’ve been thinking about it, i mean i’ve actually been thinking about it.” you didn’t interrupt, you just watched him, waiting. “and i don’t want it to come off like i’m some fuck boy with weird kinks trying to test them on anyone who’s remotely into the same stuff. that’s not it. but…” he hesitated for just a second, then pushed through, “if you wanted to… if you were down… you could maybe show me the things you’re into sometime. so i can see if i’m into them too.”
he said it steady, without laughing, without looking away, even though inside his stomach was doing flips. you smirked at him, leaning in just enough to make him think that you were about to say something he wanted to hear. “yeah,” you said, dragging it out, “i could try that sometime.”
jake froze for a second, because hearing you actually say that out loud hit him harder than he expected. it had been a long time since he’d felt this type of nervous to hook up with a girl, he wasn’t just anxious but he was also excited, and his brain was already five steps ahead picturing what it would be like. and now you were looking at him with those wide puppy eyes, and he was pretty sure he hadn’t been this gone over someone in a while.
so he leaned in, not even thinking too much about it, just following the way your words had practically given him permission, but right before he got there, you stepped back, smirk still on your face. “sometime”, you corrected, “i didn’t say tonight.”
and then you turned, casually walking off, and jake just stood there, blinking at the back of your head as you went back to the house. he didn’t even know what to do with himself. he could only think one thing: when exactly had he gotten himself this fucked?
after that night, jake couldn’t think about anything else at all. every morning he woke up, the first thought in his brain was basically: when is sometime? it was killing him. his dick was practically on a constant timer, ready to embarrass him at any random moment. he’d see you on campus, just doing normal-ass things, like tying your shoe, talking to someone, sipping your coffee, and then you’d look up, smile at him like you didn’t casually say you might let him try out some kinky shit with you, and instantly his pants got tight. it was torture.
he tried to play it cool, but the truth was his brain was fried. he couldn’t stop thinking about all the ways it could go. you acting like a brat and him finally having an excuse to put you in your place? yeah, he wanted that. you in a collar? he was picturing it. you on all fours, maybe purring at him? his dick didn’t see a problem with it.
the only issue was, he knew there were steps to get there, like he couldn’t just skip straight to “here’s your leash.” but still, he wanted it, and every day it was getting more unbearable. and jake kept replaying it in his head, wondering if you’d been kinkshaming him that night. but no, you didn’t look disgusted. you looked like you enjoyed making him squirm.
so after days of overthinking, he finally just thought, fuck it, i’m texting her.
he stared at his phone for a second, then finally muttered to himself, “fuck it.” jeans went down, dick out, and he just leaned back against the headboard, taking a deep breath. this was the first time he was sexting someone like this, like really trying to push boundaries, and he never imagined he’d get this fucking horny reading messages.
the thought of you was too much. he didn’t even really see your words at first. his eyes were half lidded, mind spinning, imagining you there, acting like you were challenging him to keep control while he was already losing it. your texts were just triggers at that point—he didn’t need them to imagine every little sound, every whine, every little movement you’d make when he told you to behave. his hand moved on its own, faster and harder, and then he felt finally letting go, spilling all over himself, and it hit him how long it had been since he’d actually come like that just from his own hand and a fantasy. it wasn’t some casual fap to random porn. it was you. the idea of you teasing him, bratting him, letting him call you a good girl, and him slowly building you up in his mind.
finally he wiped his hand, leaned back, and looked at his phone again. the last message from you was there:
you: youre jerking off arent you?
you: hope u have fun thinking about me
you: good night jakey 😊
he just froze for a second, grinning like a complete idiot, and then read it again. and again. and again. every time he did, he couldn’t help himself— his hand went back to his dick, and he was off, imagining your voice, your little smirks, the way you’d act bratty and subby and soft all at once. he spent the rest of the night like that, phone beside him, mind completely tangled up in fantasies about you, and every time he looked at those messages he had to jerk off again, like a fucking teenager.
and it kinda turned into a routine before he even realized it. every night, somewhere between brushing his teeth and pretending he was gonna go to bed early, jake ended up texting you. it started light, memes, random shit from his day, but without fail it slid into something else. not always full on sexting, sometimes it was just you pushing him with one-liners that had him hard in minutes. like that one time you just sent:
you: good pets beg nicely, don’t they?
and he actually sat there, cock throbbing in his sweats, typing and deleting five different responses before finally sending something he never thought he’d put in writing.
and yeah, he was screwed. because he did like it, he liked you bratty, needy, whiny. he liked calling you his pet. but the thing that really fucked him up was realizing he’d always end up giving in to you anyway. no matter how much he talked big, if you told him to try something, he’d try it. if you wanted him to push a boundary, he’d push it. he was supposed to be the dom, but half the time he felt like a dog wagging his tail waiting for scraps from you. and yeah, the results saying “switch” were not a surprise at this point.
he even got nerdy about it. he continued reading reddit threads, doing kink tests, scrolling through subs at 3am like he was studying for a final exam (he should be studying for a few, actually). the only problem? he still hadn’t seen you in person. and that was driving him insane.
he could type all the filth in the world, imagine you in a collar, call you his pet until his dick hurt, but at the end of the day you were still just words on a screen. and jake wanted more, he wanted your voice in his ear, your body under his hands, not just a fucking notification making him hard. and the longer it went, the worse it got. he’d go to bed thinking about you, wake up still hard, spend the day waiting for your messages just so he could crash again in that same loop. at some point he realized he was way past curious.
and jake wasn’t even subtle about it. he’d been walking past your dorm for like the third time that week, pretending to be interested in the vending machine in the lobby. he’d already bought a snickers earlier but here he was again, suspiciously pressing buttons like he couldn’t decide between m&ms or kitkat, when the truth was he didn’t give a shit about chocolate. he just wanted to “accidentally” run into you.
and then it happened. you came through the door, head down, digging through your bag for your keys. he froze with a kitkat half dangling from the machine slot, suddenly feeling like he’d been caught doing something illegal. you finally looked up and your face lit up with that same smile you always gave him, like he wasn’t the guy who called you pet and jerked off every night to your bratty texts. he felt that familiar kick in his chest, the one that made him insane because it wasn’t just sexual. sure, you drove him crazy with how much he wanted to fuck you, but there was more. he liked you, like actually liked you, and that was worse somehow. mutt-level disaster, horny as hell but also weirdly in awe every time you looked at him like that.
“what are you doing here?” you asked, eyebrow raised, smile playing like you already knew the answer.
“uh, just grabbing something from the vending machine,” he said, holding up the kitkat like it was evidence. smooth.
you gave a small smirk, clearly not buying it, but you didn’t call him out. instead, you shifted your bag on your shoulder and said, “come on, i need to grab something from my dorm. sunoo is waiting for me at the library”
he followed, trying to act casual even though his brain was on fire. his heart was racing, not just because maybe something could happen, but because he had no idea how to handle actually being around you in real life. so when you opened the door to your dorm, he stepped inside and it was like stepping straight into your head. everything screamed you.
“you want coffee?” you asked, already moving toward your tiny coffee setup.
“i’m good,” he said, hands stuffed in his pockets.
“well, i’m making some anyway. i can’t function without coffee after lunch.”
he leaned against the wall, watching you move around, trying not to think too hard about how bad he wanted something to happen. like, yeah, he could just sit here and drink coffee with you and that’d be fine, but at the same time, every cell in his body was screaming that he wanted more. he was running through a dozen different scenarios in his head, every single one ending with him in your bed.
you sat down on the couch with your coffee, legs crossed, and jake stayed planted against the wall, staring at you. you looked up at him, those doe eyes soft and ridiculous, and asked, “what’s up? you not gonna sit?”
he swallowed, felt his chest flip, and thought, oh my god i’m about to do something dumb, but then he just did it. he dropped to his knees right in front of you, which made you blink, because nobody ever kneeled in front of you unless they were messing around. now you were exactly eye level with him, and that felt like a weird, intense pause. you raised one brow. “what are you doing?”
he gave that stupid smirk he always used when he wanted to sound like he knew what he was doing. “roleplaying,” he said, like it was the most normal explanation in the world.
you laughed, set your mug down on the side table, and then came back to him, serious for a second. “jake… are you sure you want this?”
he blinked, because of course he was sure. “are you kidding? i think i made it pretty obvious.”
you watched him for a beat, like you were checking him out, “i want you to be comfortable testing something you’ve never done before,” you said.
“i’m comfortable,” he answered, eyes locked on yours. “you comfortable?”
you let out a small, low laugh and relaxed against the back of the couch and spread your legs a little so he had room, shifted so your knees were wider, like you trusted him to handle whatever came next. “very,” you said, voice steady, challenge hiding under the calm.
he smiled, the kind that was more confident than he’d felt in weeks, and slid his hand up to rest on your knee, fingers pressing the inside of your thigh as he edged closer. he kept his touch soft at first, like he was checking the water temperature, then moved a little higher, deliberate but not rough, watching you for every little reaction. “you got me down bad for you,” he murmured, a bit proud, but pissed off at how much he wanted you.
you rolled your eyes, amused and dangerous. “then why are you taking so long to take what’s yours?” you teased, voice quiet and sharp.
so the moment he caught your eyes flicking down to his mouth, he decided he wasn’t gonna make this easy for you. in one quick motion he slid his hands behind your thighs, gripped hard, and just picked you up like you weighed nothing. before you could even gasp he’d flipped the whole situation — he was on the couch now, you on his lap, straddling him. you let out this sharp little yelp, more surprise than anything, and the second you realized the position, you went quiet. his hands were holding your thighs tight, his bulge pressed right under you.
“i’ve been dreaming about you sitting on my lap like this,” he said.
“yeah?” you breathed out, lowering your face closer to his, testing him. you shifted your hips just enough to grind against him through the layers of clothes, and that made his fingers dig in, holding you down so you couldn’t keep moving.
“behave, won’t you?” he muttered, his voice flat but loaded.
that made you smirk. “what, jakey? i thought you wanted this,” you whined, tilting your voice into that bratty little tease you knew would get him worked up. and then you were grinding on him again, slower this time, just to push.
his grip on your thighs went rough, firm enough you’d probably see the marks later, and you leaned forward like you weren’t fazed at all. he was smiling now, biting his lip, annoyed and turned on beyond reason. “give me a kiss before i put you in your place,” he said, like it was some casual request, but you both knew it wasn’t.
you were still smirking when you leaned in, noses almost brushing, clearly waiting to see how far you could stretch him before he snapped. jake thought, yeah, this girl is gonna ruin me, but he wasn’t about to let you see that written on his face. he just held you tighter and kept that cocky little grin, watching you lean in with the most torturous pace ever.
and when you did, you kissed him slow, dragging it out like you wanted to prove a point, and he kissed you back like he’d been training for this exact moment, tongue slipping into your mouth like it belonged there. he’d imagined this a hundred times, maybe more, but in reality it was so much better. when you started grinding down on him again, all drawn out and teasing, he caught your lower lip between his teeth, tugged, then went right back in. he didn’t stop until he had to pull away just to breathe, drunk on you, trailing down your jaw with his mouth, nipping and kissing until he got to your neck.
the second he heard that tiny whimper spill out of you, he fucking lost it. his hand came up, not soft, cupping your chin, tilting your head so you were forced to look at him. you smirked at him, and it made him growl out, “you’re so fucking hot.” before you could toss some bratty reply back, he cut you off. “kneel for me.”
you hesitated just a beat, smirking, like you were about to be clever. but then you surprised him, you actually obeyed, slipping off his lap and sinking to the floor in front of him. his chest felt tight watching you like that, hair a little messy, looking up at him from the floor. he leaned forward, spread his legs a little wider, and let out this low laugh. “good girl,” he said, steady. then he added, “hands on your knees. look up at me.” you did it, but with that smirk like you were humoring him, not surrendering. he arched a brow. “what’s with that look?”
“what look?” you asked, voice all fake innocence, eyes wide.
“the one that’s begging me to make you behave,” he shot back. his hand went to your hair, not pulling hard, just testing. you didn’t flinch, you leaned into it. “say please,” he said next.
you tilted your head, lips parting. “please what?”
“don’t play with me,” he warned, squeezing the back of your neck lightly.
you laughed, bratty and breathless. “you don’t even know what you want me to say please for, jakey.”
he groaned, like you were already driving him insane. “jesus christ, you’re a handful.”
you beamed, proud of yourself. “am i not your favorite little handful though?”
he gave a dry laugh, leaning forward, eyes locked on you. “yeah, you are. and you’re gonna regret milking that.” his thumb brushed your lower lip, pressing down just enough to make your mouth part. “open up,” he said. you stuck out your tongue in response, rolling your eyes like you were daring him to do something. “god, you’re such a brat,” he muttered, shaking his head but clearly loving every second. “don’t worry. i’ll train you right.”
jake already knew he was too deep in this to stop now, so when his thumb pressed harder into your lip and you opened wider, he spit right into your mouth without thinking twice. you blinked at him, a little shocked. “swallow it all,” he’d said, and you did, no hesitation. he could see it hit you too, the way your shoulders shifted, that look in your eyes flipping. that was the first time any guy had done that to you, and jake clocked the moment you gave in a little, the brat suddenly turning pliant.
he smirked, dragged his thumb out of your mouth and replaced it with his index finger, pushing against your tongue. “suck.” you did, lips wrapping around it, tongue working slow like you wanted to torture him. he groaned, letting you do it, and then switched it up, making you take his thumb. “good girl. now tell me what you want, pet.”
your eyes flicked up, all teasing again, and you mumbled around his thumb, “it’s hurting, jakey.”
his brain stalled for a second. wow, she’s actually kinky as hell, he thought. he softened, brushing his free hand across your cheek. “what’s hurting, baby?”
you pulled his thumb out just enough to pout at him, voice dripping brat, “i need you so much it hurts.”
that one hit him straight in the gut. he was in awe, just staring at you. “aw, princess,” he said, almost laughing in disbelief. “do you need me to take care of you?” you nodded fast, lips pushing out in a little whine. “but,” he leaned down, pressing his forehead close to yours, “you gotta deserve to be rewarded, you know that, right? will you behave for me?”
your nod was eager this time, quick. “i will, i promise.”
“yeah?” he said, standing up slow, eyes locked on you the whole time while his fingers went to his belt. he tugged it loose, the leather sliding through the loops while he bit his lip. your eyes tracked every movement, wide and hungry, those stupid puppy eyes making him feel feral. but the second you started to lift your hands from your thighs like you wanted to reach for him, he snapped. “uh-uh.” he pointed right at you. “what’d i tell you? hands on your thighs, pet.”
you huffed, clearly annoyed, but put them back exactly where he wanted. “good girl,” he said again, dragging his zipper down nice and slow, making sure you stayed right there, waiting. he tugged his jeans and briefs down in one go, his cock springing free, thick and heavy, and the second your eyes widened he almost lost it. you actually drooled a little, lips parted, and he laughed low, cocky as ever. “yeah, like what you see, huh? big, but you can take it, right baby?”
his hand landed on your head, gentle but firm, fingers threading through your hair. you pouted up at him, whining softly, “i don’t know, jakey.”
he grinned like you’d just said the funniest shit in the world, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “don’t know? c’mon, you’re my good girl. you can take it. i know you can. don’t make me remind you.” and you nodded so fast, eager, like his words flipped some switch inside you. “see? there she is. good girl. now… go slow, pretty. just lick it. like a kitty.” you leaned in, tongue shy at first, just dragging along the tip, and he hissed, hand tightening in your hair. “fuck, yeah… just like that. lap it up for me.”
you licked your way down his shaft, soft little flicks of your tongue, and he was going crazy, eyes screwed shut for a second, trying to hold back. “jesus fuck, look at you. you’re actually licking me like a fucking kitten. do you even know how cute you look right now?”
you hummed against him, pulling back with a wet mouth and whispering, “maybe i just wanna play with you.”
he laughed again, smug but wrecked already, giving your cheek a few pats like he was rewarding you. “play all you want, sweetheart. just remember who owns you now. okay?” your eyes went wide at that, pupils blown, and you nodded, lips pressing back against the base of his cock, licking slow all the way up. he groaned, the sound broken. “fuck, that’s it. my pretty pet, my good little kitty. keep showing me how bad you need it. you’re making your owner so proud.”
jake never pictured himself like this, or saying those things, not with anyone. he’d had his fun before, sure, but the fact that he was seconds away from spilling down your throat from those innocent little eyes alone? yeah, that was new. he was way more down bad than he ever admitted.
so when your tongue started moving faster, when you got bolder, sloppier, sucking him off with that bratty determination like you wanted to prove something, he groaned, hand snapping down to your hair. a sharp tug, a wet pop leaving your lips as his cock slipped free. you looked up at him, eyes wide, bottom lip sticking out in a pout.
“aw, you want more, baby?” he teased, voice ragged, trying to keep control when he was already losing it. you nodded instantly, needy, and his smile widened. “you’re getting it, don’t worry. but for now…” he leaned back on the couch, cock heavy against his stomach, and patted his thigh. “come on, hop on.”
you did exactly that, crawling up into his lap like the little cat he kept calling you, hands pressing into the cushion as you moved, hips hovering just enough that your clothed core brushed his bare cock. the second you started to grind down, though, he didn’t let you have it, he flipped you fast, pressing you down so your cheek met the couch cushion, ass up high for him. “that’s better,” he muttered, sitting under you. the sight alone nearly ruined him, your ass arched perfectly, skirt riding up.
his fingers slid along your thighs before catching on the fabric, tugging at your skirt. “let’s take this off, mhm?” he peeled it down slow, tossing it aside, leaving you in just your panties. he let his palm rest over one cheek, rubbing soft, soothing circles, like he was calming his pet after riling her up too much. “look at you,” he murmured, voice softer now, almost in awe. “all laid out for me. such a good girl.” his hand smoothed over your ass again before giving it a light squeeze. “stay just like this, pet. don’t move unless i tell you to.”
you whined into the cushion, wiggling your hips like you were trying to bait him, and he laughed low, shaking his head. “bratty already? we talked about this, remember? ass up, face down. behave for me, or you’ll wait longer.” his tone was playful, not cruel, but it still made you still, biting down your whines. he leaned in, letting his cock brush lightly against your thigh, teasing. “good. that’s better. see? my sweet pet can listen. and when you listen, you get rewarded.”
his hand drifted down, slow, lazy, like he had all night to play with you. two fingers pressed against the thin fabric of your panties, dragging along the damp spot he already knew he’d find. the second he felt it, he chuckled, low and pleased, rubbing small circles just to hear you react. “aw, you’re soaked right through, baby. that’s so hot.” his tone was teasing.
you whined, pressing your face harder into the couch, your voice muffled but still clear. “only for you.”
that made his cock twitch, he leaned forward, chest almost brushing your back, lips close to your ear. “oh yeah? only for me?” he pressed his fingers harder against the fabric, not slipping inside, just making you squirm. “then tell me, pet. tell me what you want me to do.”
you let out a frustrated sound, trying to grind back against his hand, but he had you pinned with his thigh under your stomach, keeping you in place. “i want your fingers,” you whispered, needy.
“my fingers, huh?” he dragged them along your slit, slow enough to make it torture. “you want me to make you feel good with these?” he brought one up to your lips, letting you see the damp shine of your own arousal. you nodded quickly, pout forming again, and he laughed, patting your ass lightly like he was warning you. “needy little thing. so spoiled. but since you asked so nicely…”
his fingers dipped under the waistband of your panties at last, the fabric dragging down just enough for him to slip inside and find your folds. you moaned loudly and whiny, and he swore under his breath at how wet you were, coating his fingers instantly. “fuck,” he muttered, curling one finger inside you while his other hand smoothed over your hip, keeping you steady. “there we go. my good girl, taking me so easy. stay still for me, pet. let me play with you just like this.”
his fingers started moving faster, curling and dragging in a way that made your whole body jolt against his thigh. you yelped, louder this time, the sound bouncing in the quiet room. jake immediately leaned down, his breath brushing your ear. “quiet, pet. don’t want anyone hearing, do we?” you bit your lip, tried to hold it back, but the next time his fingers pushed deeper, a sharp whimper slipped out anyway. his voice dropped. “i said quiet.”
you tried again, muffling yourself against the couch cushion, but your body betrayed you, another sound ripping through your throat when his pace picked up. and then, suddenly, he pulled his hand away completely. the emptiness made you groan, frustrated, your hips wiggling back in protest. “ill have to punish you now, you know that right?” he said it calm, almost like he was explaining something obvious, but the way his hand smoothed over your ass right after made you shiver.
you tilted your head just enough to glance back at him, pouty and bratty. “maybe i wanted you to stop.”
he raised his brows, amused, giving your ass a firm squeeze. “oh yeah? is that what you’re telling yourself?”
you wiggled again, pushing your hips back against him like you were testing his patience. “maybe i like it better when you’re mad.”
he laughed under his breath, shaking his head, but there was heat in his eyes. “careful, pet. you’re about to get exactly what you’re asking for.”
and then his hand came down. not too hard, but enough to make your body jolt, the sound echoing sharp in the room. you gasped, and then laughed breathlessly, almost taunting. “that all you got, jakey?”
his jaw flexed, and his hand landed again, harder this time, the smack making your skin sting. “you really wanna test me right now?” he let out a low groan, dragging both hands over your ass before landing another quick series of spanks, steady and controlled. each one made your body jerk, and each time you made some sound that only pushed him further. “fuck,” he muttered, “you like this too much.”
his hand smoothed over the warmth he’d left behind, fingers soothing, but then he landed one more sharp smack that made you yelp louder than before. he immediately grabbed your hair, tugging your head back just enough so you couldn’t bury your face anymore. “i wanna hear you beg properly,” he said, his tone firm now, “say you’ll be good for me, and maybe i’ll give you back my fingers. if not…” he squeezed your ass hard, “we’re staying right here until you learn.”
the moment you opened your mouth, ready to fire back with something bratty or maybe even give in and beg, the bell rang. both of you froze, staring at each other wide-eyed.
jake blinked, still holding your hair, then muttered, “i think you were too loud?” but the way he said it wasn’t teasing, wasn’t even part of the game, it was just matter of fact, like he really thought your whines had carried down the hall.
you stared back at him, cheeks flushed, and scoffed. “no, i don’t think so.” and then the bell rang again, even longer this time, and you panicked, scrambling, yelling “i’m coming!” towards the door.
jake almost choked, because his brain short-circuited for a second and he thought, god, i wish she’d say that in a whole other context.
everything after that moved way too fast. one second you were half naked, bent over, bratting about his punishment, the next you were yanking your skirt back up and pulling your shirt down, your hair all messy and your lips swollen from kissing. you grabbed his pants and his wrist and dragged him towards your bedroom. he was stumbling after you, his dick still hard, bouncing against his stomach because he wasn’t even wearing pants anymore, which just made the whole thing ten times more ridiculous.
“stay there, quickly, i’ll be right back,” you hissed at him, shoving him into your room and throwing his pants at him while he caught them in the air.
jake stood there, half dazed, half turned on, thinking this was the most chaotic blue balls situation of his life. his cock was throbbing, his shirt was wrinkled, and he was hiding in a girl’s bedroom like a teenager.
he sat there on the edge of your bed, pantsless, staring at the door and he could hear everything clear as day. suddenly he could hear sunoo’s voice carried through the dorm, cheerful and way too loud for jake’s current situation. “y/n! i was calling you, you didn’t answer. i was waiting for you at the library. i got worried!”
you sounded way too casual for someone who’d just been spread out over the couch whining under jake’s fingers. “oh, sorry, i dozed off. i was so tired.”
there was a pause, then sunoo’s suspicious tone: “why are you red? and your hair looks… what happened?”
you snapped back instantly, “i was sleeping, i told you.”
jake, meanwhile, buried his face in his hands. jesus fucking christ. this was ridiculous. that was his cue, he quickly pulled his boxers back up, then wriggled into his jeans. because as much as his dick hated it, it was way too humiliating to sit there listening in with his bare ass on your sheets.
while he was buttoning up, his eyes wandered. your room was… very you. he noticed sanrio plushies stacked in the corner, a little snoopy mug on the desk with pens sticking out of it, and an actual pink and white gamer setup with a keyboard that lit up like cotton candy. he blinked at that one, he didn’t even know you gamed, but apparently you did, and you did it in the most annoyingly cute way possible. it was distracting, like the whole place was a scrapbook of your personality, and he was sitting there in the middle of it half hard, listening to your best friend interrogate you in the next room.
then he heard you again, your voice a little rushed. “let me just go to my room and fix myself up, i’ll be quick.”
sunoo didn’t sound convinced. “i’ll come with you—”
“no, wait in the living room. were you born glued to me or something?”
“what the—are you crazy?” sunoo shot back, baffled.
“sunoo, let me change alone,” you said, sharper now, but still playful enough to throw him off.
jake had to bite back a laugh, shaking his head. you were juggling this so smoothly, meanwhile he looked like an idiot sitting on your bed, surrounded by stuffed animals, pretending this was normal.
and then the door cracked open and you slipped back in, closing it quickly behind you, leaving sunoo muttering to himself outside. jake was sitting there, finally dressed, looking suspicious. you let out this little laugh, low, like you couldn’t believe how cute he looked sitting there stiff on your bed surrounded by your plushies. he stood up, kind of sheepish, and you just smiled at him like nothing was out of the ordinary, whispering, “im so sorry, i have to go,” with a pout that made you look more like a kid ditching class than someone who just had her ass smacked red ten minutes ago.
he thought you were adorable like that, so he shook his head and said, “it’s okay, i liked distracting you.”
then you leaned over and pressed a quick kiss on his lips. not hot, not horny, not dripping with tension, just a casual kiss. and that’s what fucked him up a bit, because he never did casual kisses like that with anyone.
“i’ll change, leave, and you can stay here, okay? i’ll leave the door open so you can head out whenever. you can even get comfy if you want to, i don’t mind,” you said like you were inviting him to borrow a hoodie or something. easygoing, no stress. he stood there thinking, wow, you really weren’t trying to make him feel embarrassed, even though you could’ve. you could’ve outed him to sunoo in two seconds flat, but you didn’t.
so you turned around, grabbed clothes, changed right there like it was nothing, and then you were gone, chatting back at sunoo.
and jake just sat there on your bed, hands on his knees, staring at the kuromi plush in the corner like it had answers. his dick was still half hard in his jeans, but his brain was louder than his body this time. he thought, holy shit, i just had the kinkiest, freakiest time of my life and somehow my dick never even got inside her once.
after that day, things between you and jake definitely got steamier. he was still jake, pretending he just “happened” to run into you on campus, but really he was timing shit out. he knew your class schedule better than his own. sometimes he’d wait outside one of your lectures and play it off like, “oh hey, didn’t know you had class here,” and then two minutes later he had you pressed against a wall making out. subtle wasn’t his thing anymore.
he started hanging around your friends more too. jungwon, who he already kind of knew, turned into his partner-in-crime somehow. jake was showing up to sit at your table like he belonged there. sunoo kept giving him these looks, like he was three seconds away from calling him out, and jake swore the guy had to know something even though you promised you hadn’t told him a word. it was just the way sunoo looked at him– suspicious as hell.
and the thing was, jake couldn’t really keep his hands off you. you’d be standing in line at the vending machine and he’d pull you aside to kiss you like he hadn’t seen you in a year. in between classes he’d tug you down some hallway and you’d laugh, telling him to chill, but you’d still kiss him back. the parking lot was another story. he kissed you once against your car, his hand already halfway down the back of your jeans, when someone walked by and you had to shove him off, both of you laughing.
the thing is, none of it ever went further than hot kisses and some wandering hands. it wasn’t full-on sex, not yet. and that was what was killing jake slowly. he was losing his mind because you’d give him just enough: enough roleplay, enough teasing, enough touching to keep him hooked, but never the whole thing. every time you whispered something bratty in his ear or let him grab your waist in the middle of campus, he wanted you more. and the more he got, the less satisfied he felt, because it only made him hungrier.
so he came up with this plan. he wanted to make it special, and he couldn’t quite figure out why he cared so much. the timing lined up with jungwon’s birthday, just a small gathering at his place with close friends. jake was invited, obviously, him and jungwon were basically glued at the hip now. so he offered to pick you up.
when you got into his car that night, jake didn’t even wait a beat. you barely closed the door before he leaned over, caught your chin, and kissed you. it wasn’t rushed though, he kissed you slow, deep, like he’d been starving all week. you kissed him back, let him taste you for a second, before pulling away with a laugh. “jake, we’re gonna be late,” you said.
he smirked and said “worth it.” then, just to make your stomach flip, he grabbed your other hand and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles before starting the engine. jake kept sneaking looks at you, thumb brushing your hand where it rested in his. when you arrived at jungwon’s, jake slipped his hand to your lower back as you both walked inside, guiding you.
the whole night, jake barely left your side. if you went to the kitchen, he was there leaning against the counter, sipping from his cup, making stupid commentary. if you sat down, he took the spot next to you, knee brushing yours. it wasn’t possessive, not even official, but he hovered like a guy on a date, even though neither of you had ever said that word out loud. and the thing was, you let him.
sometimes your friends would tease – sunoo gave you this knowing look across the room at one point – but you brushed it off. the real issue wasn’t what people thought. it was that every time jake leaned in close to whisper something dumb in your ear, every time his fingers brushed against yours under the table, you wanted him so bad it made you dizzy. and judging by the way he kept staring at your mouth all night, he was having the same problem.
when the party ended, he offered you a ride back to your place, and at the elevator going down in jungwon’s building, he already couldn’t hold it. the doors closed, the silence hit, and he cornered you right there, pressing you against the wall before you could even blink. his mouth was on yours, hot and messy, your little whine breaking between the kisses making his head spin. you tugged at his shirt, and he groaned into your mouth like he’d been waiting for this all damn night.
he pulled back just enough to breathe, lips still brushing yours, and whispered, “come to my place, please.” he didn’t even think before saying it. it just spilled out.
you didn’t even hesitate. you just nodded, whispered “okay,” and kissed him again like you couldn’t wait either.
the car ride was a whole other mess. his hand was glued to your thigh, fingers sliding higher and you weren’t doing anything to stop him. he kept smirking at you, leaning close enough to murmur shit like, “you’re so needy, aren’t you?” or “you’ve been teasing me for weeks, baby. you think i’m letting you off easy tonight?” and every time, you’d bite your lip and nod, your bratty side slipping but not disappearing entirely.
by the time he pulled into the driveway, you were both buzzing. he didn’t even bother with slow steps once you got inside. the moment the door shut, he pressed you against it hard, kissing you. one hand held your waist, the other grabbed your wrist and guided it straight to his bulge through his jeans. “see?” he panted against your lips, his forehead pressed to yours. “this is what you do to me.”
and you felt it hard and heavy under your palm, and the way you looked up at him, wide eyed and needy, just about made him lose his mind right there.
he didn’t even give you a second to think. he was now scooping you up, you gasped, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he carried you down the hall like he’d done it a hundred times before. except he hadn’t, and he was going crazy about the fact that it was you in his arms. he kissed you the whole way, sloppy, greedy kisses that landed half on your lips and half on your jaw because he refused to stop even while moving.
by the time he made it to his room, he basically tossed you onto the bed. he climbed on after you, settling between your legs like he was claiming his spot. “open up for me,” he said, and you did, spreading your thighs wide, and the way he looked at you like that nearly made you combust. he grabbed your leg, lifted it, and started kissing up from your ankle, slow and deliberate, leaving wet trails on your skin until he was nipping at your inner thigh.
“i’ve been dying to have you like this,” he murmured against your skin, and then looked up at you, eyes dark, “you’re mine, aren’t you?” you were too far gone to answer, your head falling back, a whimper spilling out instead. that wasn’t enough for him. “answer me, pet,” he demanded, giving your thigh a squeeze.
you nodded desperately, voice breaking as you whispered, “i can’t take it anymore, jakey. i need you.”
he smirked, brushing his lips right where you were the most sensitive but not giving you what you wanted yet. “i got you something,” he said, and just like that, he pulled back.
you blinked up at him, confused and needy, while he turned to his nightstand. he pulled the drawer open and, without much hesitation, pulled out a pair of shiny handcuffs. “oooh,” you laughed, your cheeks heating, but there was excitement in your voice.
the thing was, jake had been planning this longer than he cared to admit. last week, he had walked into the little sex shop near campus and walked out with a small bag of things he wasn’t sure he’d ever actually use. he told himself it was “just in case,” even though deep down he was already picturing you.
the shop itself had been an experience. he walked in like he belonged there, but the second he saw all the shelves stacked with vibrators, butt plugs, leather collars, and some shit he didn’t even know the name of, he nearly turned around. he swore the old lady behind the counter was judging him, even though it was literally her job. jake had grabbed the handcuffs, lingered a little too long in front of the section with leashes and collars, and even picked up a blindfold before chickening out and putting it back.
he paid fast as hell, shoved the bag in his backpack, and prayed no one he knew would walk past the store. and now here he was, finally pulling the cuffs out.
he looked back at you on his bed, all spread out and waiting, and thought, holy shit, i actually bought this for her. i’m really about to do this. “do you want that?” he asked, voice low, holding the cuffs up so they caught the light.
your stomach flipped. you couldn’t stop the bratty little grin curling at your lips, couldn’t stop the way your thighs shifted like you already knew what was coming. “yes,” you whispered, your voice just breathless enough to make his smirk turn sharp.
“fuck,” he muttered, shaking his head like you were too much, “you’re so dirty, aren’t you?”
before you could even think of something smart to throw back at him, he was already climbing over you, grabbing your wrists and snapping the cuffs around them, locking them together above your head. the metal was cool, firm, and you shivered when you felt it click. he spread your thighs wider with a slow push, his hand on your knee like he owned every inch of you.
“stay still, or i’ll punish you,” he said, and it was low, commanding, no room for play in it. you whined, hips already twitching up toward him without your permission. “behave,” he warned, shooting you a look that made you clamp your lips shut, “already told you.”
he reached down, tugged your skirt off, tossing it aside so you were bare under his gaze. he kissed along your inner thigh, slow and messy, lips dragging up your skin, making you squirm even though you tried so hard to stay still like he told you to. when his mouth got close enough to your panties, he pressed his face against the heat of you, inhaling, and you heard him groan low in his throat. “my bunny smells so fucking good,” he muttered, almost like he was drunk on it already.
“your bunny?” you whispered, testing the word, voice shaky.
he smirked against you, looking up through his lashes. “yeah, mine. my pet. my bunny.” something in you melted, and you couldn’t stop yourself from nodding, tugging uselessly at the cuffs. “what does my pet want?” he teased, his voice dropping lower, his lips brushing the fabric of your panties as he spoke. “want me to eat you out, hm?”
you nodded desperately, the words tumbling out of you, “please—jake, please.”
he tilted his head, pretending to think about it, then tapped your thigh. “aw, you deserve it, don’t you? you’ve been so obedient.”
you whimpered, nodding, whispering, “yes, yes, i deserve it, please—”
and then he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and yanked them down in one quick move, tossing them to the floor. “fuck, look at you,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss just above your heat, deliberately avoiding your clit while you squirmed beneath him. “drooling for me already. my perfect little bunny.” you tugged at the cuffs, frustrated, whining his name. he chuckled against your thigh, the sound vibrating through your skin. “patience, baby. i’ll give you what you want when i’m ready.”
and then, finally, he licked a slow stripe up your folds, and your whole body jolted. you moaned, loud and messy, your back arching as his tongue pressed deeper, as he lapped you up like he’d been starving for it. he groaned into you, “that’s it,” he mumbled against you, licking you again and again, “make those pretty noises for me. let everyone know who you belong to.”
his tongue was everywhere, sliding, circling, pressing against your clit just right before pulling away, dragging down to lick into you, greedy and messy. his hands were firm on your thighs, holding them open wide, keeping you spread for him like you had no choice but to take it. you were whimpering, tugging at the cuffs, your chest rising and falling fast. “please, jake—”
he groaned into your pussy, the sound vibrating against you, making your hips jerk. he pulled back just enough to smirk up at you, lips and chin wet. “say it properly, pet. you wanna cum? beg for it.”
your face burned, but the desperation in your voice gave you away. “please let me cum, i need it, i need you, please, please, i’ll be good—”
he laughed low, then pressed his tongue flat against your clit, making your head fall back. “you’re gonna cum when i say, okay, bunny?”
you nodded frantically, whining, “okay, okay, i’ll wait, i’ll wait—”
but your body betrayed you. the way he sucked on your clit, the way he lapped you up like he wanted to drink you dry, it was too much. your thighs shook, your whole body tensed, and then you broke apart, cumming hard into his mouth before he even gave the word. you cried out his name, the cuffs rattling above your head as you tried to ground yourself, and he didn’t stop. he kept licking, messier now, tongue fucking you while you were still trembling, overstimulated, every nerve raw. you tried to squirm away, but his grip was too strong, holding your thighs wide open, his mouth still working you like you were his.
when he finally pulled back, his lips shiny, his breathing heavy, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then crawled up over you. his hand caught your chin, firm and unyielding, forcing your face up to look at him. “did you just cum without my permission?” he asked, his voice dark, his eyes locked on yours.
you bit your lip, trying not to smile, bratty even with your chest heaving. “yeah, what you gonna do?”
his grip on your chin tightened just a little, his smirk sharp, dangerous. “you’re about to fucking find out, bitch.”
the word made your eyes widen, a flash of surprise mixed with the way your stomach twisted with heat. he saw it, of course he did, and it only made his grin curl wider. without saying anything else, he freed you from the cuffs, and then he reached over to his drawer again, sliding it open, and soon after you felt him turn you over, pressing you chest down into the mattress. his hand slid along the back of your neck as he fastened something firm around your throat. a collar.
“if you wanna act like my bitch,” he muttered close to your ear, tugging on it once to test the fit, “maybe i’ll just put a leash on you.” your body shivered at the sound of it, and you let out a whine muffled against the sheets. he gave you a second to breathe before pushing off the bed, standing tall. “get off the bed,” he ordered, his voice steady but sharp. “kneel on the floor. hands on your thighs. like i taught you.”
you moved quickly, scrambling off the mattress, and the second your knees hit the floor, you dropped into position, head slightly bowed, palms flat against your thighs. you felt the weight of the collar with every breath, heavy, real. jake sat back on the edge of the bed, legs spread just enough, elbows resting loosely on his knees. he looked down at you for a long moment, letting the silence sit, letting you squirm under his gaze. then his hand came out, patting the top of your head like he was rewarding a pet.
“you look so fucking pretty in a collar,” he said, his tone low, rough. “acting so obedient now. not so bratty anymore, huh?” your lips parted, but you stayed quiet, because you knew better now. he leaned back a little, watching you stay perfectly still on your knees in front of him. the collar sat snug on your neck, and he let his fingers trace over it like he was reminding you who put it there.
“good girl,” he said slowly, almost teasing. “but let’s see if you actually learned something.” his hand came down, tilting your chin up so you were forced to meet his eyes. “you want me to let you touch me?”
“yes, please,” you whispered immediately, your voice shaky but eager.
he smirked, clearly satisfied with that, but still not giving in. instead, he leaned closer, his breath warm against your face. “tell me what you are.”
your eyes flickered, nervous but turned on. “i’m your pet.”
his grin stretched wide. “and what does my pet want right now?”
your body squirmed as you shifted on your knees, thighs pressing together, heat pooling low. “i want to please you.”
“hm,” he hummed, tilting his head. “you want my cock in your mouth, don’t you?”
“mhm, yes, so bad.” you said whiny.
he raised a brow, clearly enjoying dragging it out. “why should i let you?”
you whined, the sound spilling out without you meaning to, and he chuckled low. “please, jake… i’ll be good, i promise.”
he leaned forward again, his lips brushing against your ear. “beg properly, pet.”
your hands clenched against your thighs, nails digging into your skin as you whispered quickly, desperate, “please let me suck your cock, i need it, i’ll be good, i’ll do it how you like, just please.”
he smirked like he’d been waiting for that exact moment, thumb dragging over your bottom lip again before pulling his hand away completely. “open my pants.” your hands shot forward instantly, fumbling just a little with the button and zipper, pulling them down slowly, careful, like you knew he was watching your every move. he shifted his hips up to help, letting you slide the fabric down enough, and when his cock sprang free, thick and already hard, he grabbed the back of your head, forcing you to look at it.
“there it is,” he muttered, his tone sharp. “the thing you’ve been begging for.” you licked your lips, eyes wide, but you stayed frozen until he gave the word. he smirked again, tugging your hair gently. “go on, pet. show me how good you can be.”
you started slow, almost too slow, your lips brushing against the tip first, tongue flicking against the slit while your hand wrapped around the base. jake groaned right away, his head tipping back as his fingers tightened in your hair. “fuck… you’re really gonna tease me now?” his voice was low, almost strained, but you didn’t speed up. you flattened your tongue along the underside and dragged it down, taking your time, making him twitch against your lips.
you slowly pushed him deeper into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks, but still holding back, pulling off every few seconds just to lick around his head again. drool was already starting to wet your chin, and the sight made him groan even louder. “shit… look at you. on your knees, drooling for me.” he tugged harder on your hair, guiding you back down, and you let him.
he held you there, watching you take him slow, your throat stretching around him as you gagged softly, eyes watering a little. that sound made him grit his teeth. “fuck, you like this, don’t you?” he muttered, his voice harsh now. “mhm? you like choking on my cock like a good little bitch?”
you moaned around him, the vibrations sending a shiver through his body. he pulled you off suddenly, saliva dripping from your lips, and forced you to look at him. “answer me,” he demanded, his grip unrelenting.
you gasped, your voice weak but clear. “yes, yes! i like it.”
he smirked, his thumb smearing your spit over your lips. “damn… you like the whole thing, don’t you? degradation too?”
before you could answer, he pushed you back down, this time not letting you go at your own pace. he thrusted up into your mouth, using your head like a handle, fucking your throat without mercy. your gagging filled the room, tears streaming down your cheeks as you gasped for breath between strokes. “that’s it, baby,” he groaned, his hips snapping up harder, faster. “take it. take it all like the dumb little slut you are.”
you clawed at his thighs, not to push him away but to hold on, and he laughed breathlessly. “jesus christ, you’re sick for this. my obedient pet one second, my dirty slut the next. fuck, i’m never letting you go.” he shoved himself deeper, until your nose pressed against his skin, and held you there, watching your throat work around him. you gagged, choked, saliva spilling everywhere, but you didn’t fight it, you let him use you, collar tight against your neck, and it drove him fucking insane.
he drove himself until he lost it, groaning your name as he came, and the warm, filthy flood hit the back of your throat. you gagged around him, eyes wide, stomach tightening as his hips convulsed, and when he finally slowed and stilled you swallowed reflexively, shaking, tasting him on your tongue.
he watched you the whole time, chest heaving, and then he pulled out. you were breathing hard, cheeks flushed. he scooped you up with this sudden tenderness that almost felt comical after the roughness, picked you up like you were light as a feather and carried you back to the bed.
you lay there as he settled down beside you, and his hands were all soft now. he kissed your face like he was making up for everything, trailing from your mouth down to your collarbone, lingering, then along your arm to your hand where he actually sucked on your fingers for a beat, ridiculous and sweet and wildly out of sync with what he’d been doing minutes before.
“my baby did so good,” he murmured against your skin, voice full of something that wasn’t only lust. “you treated me so well.”
you were breathless and whining, voice small and needy. he smiled into your neck, tasting you again, and you felt both stupid and right to be lost in the softness after the dirty stuff. his praise kept coming, until, in a quick motion that made your heart jump, he shifted behind you so your back pressed into his chest. he folded you into him, one arm wrapping under your ribs, the other finding your legs and holding them open wide.
“i’m gonna reward you now, okay?” he said into your hair, voice steady. “i feel bad for being mean to my bunny.” there was a teasing edge but also actual warmth. you could feel him hard against the small of your back, steady.
he cupped your thighs, fingers warm, and brushed a palm over your slick where he’d made you come earlier, slow, deliberate. you squirmed, he kissed the back of your ear, then whispered, “do you want my fingers again? or do you want me inside you?”
you looked back over your shoulder, eyes bright, tiny smirk slipping through the haze. “i want you,” you breathed.
he hummed, pleased, and his hand slid between your legs, fingers parting you easily. he started with one finger, slow, pressing in and curling gently, testing, then adding a second as you moaned into his shirt. his thumb found your clit, rubbing in easy circles while his fingers worked inside you, a steady, confident rhythm that built you back up from the edges. “that’s it,” he praised, low and rough. “such a good girl. take it for me.”
you were trembling, the combination of his fingers and the proximity of his cock against your back making everything too much. you whined, hips rocking, chasing more, and he laughed softly, biting at your shoulder. “you make the dumbest little noises when i touch you. it’s almost embarrassing how much you need me.”
his thumb pressed harder, fingers curling deep, and your whole body shook, forehead falling against his shoulders. he kissed the back of your neck, lips dragging over the collar around your throat, his breath hot against your skin. then his voice dropped darker, meaner, right in your ear. “do you want my cock inside you, hm?” you whined and nodded, and his fingers slowed, teasing, holding you on edge. “ask me nicely, pet.”
you squirmed, chest heaving, and finally whispered, “please, jake, i want it. i want your cock, please–”
he groaned low, his grip tightening on your waist. “that’s my girl. begging so sweet.” he lifted you up just a little, enough to line himself up, the head of his cock pressing against your soaked entrance. he didn’t push in right away. instead, he held you there, rubbing himself through your folds, letting you feel how hard he was. “feel that? all yours if you behave.” you whined and tried to sink down, but his hands stopped you. he breathed against your ear again. “slow. i’m gonna make you take it slow.”
inch by inch, he guided you down onto him, your body stretching around him, every second dragging out. he held your hips steady, forcing you to feel every bit of him sliding in. your moans filled the room, shaky and raw, and he kissed the side of your neck, whispering, “good girl. you’re doing so good for me.”
he bottomed out finally, keeping you still, cock buried deep inside you while his arm locked you in place. his lips pressed to your collar, then your ear. “stay right here. don’t move. let me feel you.”
you could feel the way his chest rose sharp against your back, the way he was fighting to breathe steady. his forehead dropped to your shoulder, and for a moment he didn’t move at all, just holding you there, stuffed full, his heavy cock twitching inside you. “fuck,” he groaned, low and broken, like he’d been waiting forever for this. his hand dragged down your thigh, squeezing tight. “you don’t know how long i wanted this. how bad.” his hips shifted just a little, not even pulling out, just grinding deeper into you, chasing more of your heat.
when he finally started to move, it was slow, dragging himself out a few inches and sliding back in just as carefully. the stretch made both of you gasp. he kissed your shoulder, your neck, muttering, “fuck, you feel perfect. so tight.” his thighs shifted under you, his body adjusting. he pressed his feet into the mattress, grounding himself, and the new leverage let him sink back in harder. the bed creaked with the movement, his grip on your waist tightening.
his thrusts picked up, still controlled but deeper, faster, each one hitting with more force. the sound of your bodies meeting filled the room, his breath rough in your ear. his rhythm built steady, more sure with every thrust, the need he’d been holding back finally breaking through as he fucked into you from below, hips snapping up against you.
“that’s it,” he growled against your ear, voice ragged. “take it. take my cock, pet. bounce on it.” his free hand slid down your front, fingers finding your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to make you jolt. you whined, back arching into his chest, and he laughed low, mean but so turned on. “look at you– you love when i rub your clit while i fuck you stupid, don’t you?”
your answer came out broken, just a mess of yes and please, and he rewarded you by pressing harder, rubbing tight circles while still driving his cock into you rough and deep. “good girl,” he panted, his lips brushing the side of your neck, wet from his kisses. “you’re mine. my sweet bunny, taking me so well.”
he slowed just enough to shift you, his hands sliding down your sides as he pulled out of you. you were still shaking when he turned you around, moving you onto his lap so you were straddling him, knees on either side of his hips. his cock brushed against you, wet and hot, as he guided you down onto him again, inch by inch, until you were seated fully, face to face.
his eyes locked with yours, dark and heavy. “that’s better,” he murmured, breathless. “i want to see you while you ride me.” he grabbed your hips, steadying you, then started rolling them forward, showing you the rhythm he wanted. “move, puppy,” he said quietly, voice rough. “show me how you ride.”
you began to move, slow at first, your hands pressed to his chest. his palms slid up your sides, then cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they hardened under his touch. he squeezed, played, tugged gently, making you moan. “look at my pretty pet,” he said, fingers teasing your nipples while his hips pushed up into you. “bouncing on my cock so good. does it feel good, pup?”
you whined in answer, head tipping back, and he reached up and caught the collar at your throat, fingers curling in the strap to pull you back down until your faces were inches apart. “closer,” he ordered. “right here. eyes on me, baby.”
his grip on the collar held you steady as you rode him, your breasts moving in his hands. he pinched your nipples again, rolling them between his fingers while he thrust up into you, forcing another whimper from your throat. your nails dug into his shoulders as you tried to move on him, the stretch making your breath come out in shaky little sounds. your forehead dropped to his, eyes squeezed shut.
“jake–-” you whispered, voice breaking. “it’s too much. you’re too big…”
his smirk flickered, a small groan in his chest as he pulled a little on your collar to make you look at him. “aww,” he said, low. “but you can take it, can’t you? slow down, baby. don’t run from it. let it in.”
you nodded, trembling, and started to roll your hips slower, dragging yourself up and down his length inch by inch. the shift made it even deeper, and you gasped, biting your lip. jake leaned back, eyes fixed on you, and put both hands behind his head, elbows out, like he was watching a show. his cock twitched inside you as you tried to keep the rhythm, struggling a little at how full you felt.
he let out a quiet, cruel laugh. “can’t even take all of it without whining. you love it, though. you love how big i am.” you whimpered, hips moving slower, trying to adjust, and he tilted his head, smirk growing wider. “that’s right. ride it nice and slow. so tight around me. so small. look at you struggling on my cock like that, fuck, so hot—”
you slowed down on purpose, hips rolling even slower than before, your hands pressing against his chest like you were testing him. your eyes caught his as you bit your lip, that bratty look on your face making him groan. he tugged at the collar just enough to make you jolt. “don’t play with me, pup.” his voice was low, sharp. “you think i won’t punish you?”
you tilted your head and moved even slower, your nails dragging down his stomach. “maybe i want you to.” your voice was soft, teasing, a little whine under it.
his jaw flexed. “oh, you want to act up?” he sat up, one hand gripping your hip tight. “you’re just begging for it, aren’t you.” he pulled the collar again, making you lean closer to his face. “say it. say you want me to punish you.”
you let out a small sound and whispered, “i want it.”
he smirked. “good.” with a quick motion he flipped you off his lap and onto the bed, stomach down. his palm pressed between your shoulder blades, keeping you down while he shifted behind you. “hands and knees. now.” you scrambled to obey, getting on all fours, the collar still around your neck, your hair falling into your face. his hand slid down your back and squeezed your ass. “stay like that. don’t move until i tell you.”
you were already whining softly, arching a little. “look at you,” he said, voice darker now. “do you want me to punish you for real?” you nodded, still on your hands and knees. “say it.”
“i want you to punish me.”
his palm landed on your ass in a sharp smack, not too hard but enough to make you gasp. “that’s what i thought.” his other hand slid between your thighs, fingers teasing just close enough to where you wanted him but not touching. “my little bunny likes acting up so she can get punished, huh?”
“yes—” you whispered, squirming under him.
“then stay still.” he pressed himself against you, his cock sliding along your folds but not pushing in yet, just rubbing enough to make you moan. “this is what happens when you’re bratty, pup. you get teased until you’re dripping. you want it now? want me to fuck you like this?”
“please,” you whined, pushing back a little.
he grabbed your hips hard. “ask properly.”
“please fuck me, please punish me,” you said, voice breaking.
he chuckled, low and rough. “good girl. now you’re talking.” he gave another slow thrust against you, still not entering, his fingers circling your clit. “tell me what you are.”
“i’m your pet,” you gasped.
“louder.”
“i’m your pet!”
he groaned at the sound, leaning down to speak right into your ear. “fuck yeah you are” his hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he lined himself up, the tip of his cock pressing against you but still waiting, making you squirm even more. his smirk was audible in his voice. “now i’m gonna show you what happens when you’re bratty, pet.”
he slid forward suddenly, both hands gripping your hips hard enough to make you gasp. before you could whine another word he pushed your face down into the mattress, palm on the back of your head, making you arch with your ass up and your cheek pressed to the sheets. “this is where you belong when you’re acting like a brat,” he growled. “face down, ass up.” his other hand came down on your ass again, sharper this time, making you let out a choked moan.
you tried to lift your head but his palm kept you there. “stay down. don’t look at me. pets don’t look at their owner unless they’re told to.”
“fuckk—” you whimpered, voice muffled by the sheets.
he slammed the rest of the way in with one rough thrust, making you cry out against the mattress. “that’s it. take it. you’re just a little bunny for me to fuck, aren’t you?”
“yes—”
he started moving, rough thrusts, his hips slamming into you while his fingers dug into your skin. “fuck, listen to you,” he snarled between breaths. “whining like a toy. you like when i use you like this? you like being my bitch?” he gave another sharp slap to your ass, then slid his hand up to grab your hair, yanking your head back just enough to hear you gasp. “say it.”
“i like being your bitch—”
he groaned and slammed into you harder, his cock hitting deep, his hand still tangled in your hair, and his thrusts picked up pace, rough and unrelenting, his free hand sliding between your legs to circle your clit while he fucked you from behind. “you’re gonna cum when i tell you. until then you’re just a hole for me to use, you understand?” you whimpered something incoherent and he smirked, fingers still working your clit. “what? can’t even talk now? my little pet’s gone all dumb on my cock?”
“yes—” you managed to gasp, hips trembling.
he chuckled darkly and slid his other over until his thumb pressed against your asshole. he didn’t push, just rubbed in slow circles while still thrusting into you. the sound you made was almost a squeak. your hips jerked and he felt it immediately. he pushed a little harder with his thumb, still circling, testing. “ohhh,” he said low, voice heavy with amusement, “you like that too, huh?”
you buried your face in the sheets and nodded. “fucking dirty little puppy,” he growled, pressing his thumb a little deeper, then pulling back to circle again. “getting wet while i play with your ass. you’re so fucking filthy. is that what you want? you want me to fuck your ass too?”
“yes, fuck, jake—” you said again, voice high and shaking.
he leaned down, lips brushing your ear, thumb pressing just a bit harder. “fuck, you’re unreal. begging for more when you’re already full.” you whimpered again, hips pushing back against him without thinking. “tell me how bad you want it,” he ordered, his cock sliding slow inside you while his thumb teased your ass. “tell me you’re my dirty bunny and you want me to take you wherever i want.”
you gasped, “i want you to take me—please—”
“not enough,” he said, thrusting a little harder, his thumb pressing a little deeper. “say exactly what you want.”
“please use me, please fuck me—”
he smirked against your ear. “use you where?”
“fuck my pussy—please—”
“and?” he pressed.
“play with my ass—please—”
his laugh was low and sharp. “you’re fucking unreal.” his thrusts got faster, the sound of your skin slapping together filling the room. his thumb slipped just inside your ass now, shallow, teasing, while his cock filled you completely.
“oh fuck—” you cried out, your voice cracking.
he pulled your head up by your hair, forcing you to arch your back. “look at you,” he muttered, “fucking begging to be filled from both sides. you’re my dirty little bunny, aren’t you?”
“yes,” you whined, “i’m your bunny, please—”
“what do you want now?”
“i want to cum,” you begged, voice shaking. “please, i need to—”
he slowed down, almost stopped, his thumb still moving at your ass. “you’re gonna cum when i say, pet. got it?”
“please,” you cried, hips trembling, “please let me—”
he leaned down to your ear, still holding your hair tight. “ask me right. say you want your owner to let you cum.”
you gasped, “please let me cum, please, please—”
his cock slammed into you again, hard enough to make you cry out. “again.”
“please let me cum,” you sobbed, “please let me cum—”
he finally lost it, his thumb pressing deeper, his cock pounding into you rough. “fuck, you’re so fucking perfect—cum. now. do it.”
you broke with a loud moan, your whole body shaking as you came around him, clenching so hard he had to grip your hips to hold you steady. he didn’t slow down, his thrusts got even rougher while you were still coming. his voice dropped low, almost a growl. “you like this, bunny? you want me to fill you too? want me to pump you full?”
you whimpered a weak “yes—” still trembling.
“say it right,” he said, still thrusting. “say you want me to breed you.”
“i want you to breed me,” you gasped, your voice breaking. “please fill me—”
he bit your shoulder lightly, his thumb still at your ass, his cock slamming into you harder and faster. “fuck—” he groaned, “keep saying it.”
“please breed me, please fill me up, i’m your puppy, please—”
he lost whatever control he had left. his hips snapped hard, one final thrust burying him deep inside you, his breath coming out as a rough moan. “fuck—” he hissed, his cock pulsing as he spilled into you, still grinding against you to push it deeper. he stayed there, pressed against your back, his hand still on your hair, his thumb still teasing your ass while he twitched inside you, panting against your ear. “good fucking girl,” he muttered, voice hoarse.
you were still shaking, whimpering quietly, your body soft under him. he kissed your shoulder once, still holding you there, still buried inside you. “you’re mine now,” he said, low. “so fuckingperfect.”
he stayed there for a while, and kissed the back of your neck, gently, slightly sliding off after a moment. he took off your collar while he still kissed your neck, and both of you went quiet, just breathing. it wasn’t heavy or awkward, it just felt like everything around had slowed down, just quiet in a way that felt right. jake moved first, reaching down to grab the sheet that had ended up at the foot of the bed at some point. he pulled it over you and ran his hand down your arm once, probably making sure you were okay without actually asking out loud yet.
you didn't say anything, just turned your head a little with your eyes half closed. he sat up and reached for his water bottle on the nightstand, the one he always kept there, and handed it to you without a word. you took a few sips and smiled at him, the kind of small tired smile that doesn't need explanation.
he was still catching his breath a little, looking at you like he was trying to process the last hour. it was one of those moments where he seemed caught between wanting to laugh at himself or just stare at the ceiling and think about his life choices. he let out a breath and said, "you good?" you nodded, and for a second neither of you moved or said anything. then he laughed, quiet and almost to himself. "i can't believe i get to do this with you."
you looked at him, a bit confused at first, then smiled. "what, the freaky stuff?"
"no," he said, shaking his head but still smiling. "i mean yeah, that too obviously. but i'm talking about all of it. i never thought i'd actually find someone who'd let me figure shit out without making it this whole weird thing, you know?"
you laughed and turned on your side to face him properly. "jake, we already did enough weird shit to last you the entire semester. i think you've figured plenty out."
"yeah i know," he said, laughing too. "but i'm being serious right now. you make it easy. i didn't know that was even possible with this stuff."
you grinned, half teasing him because that's just how you two worked. "you're getting all emotional on me now."
he grabbed a pillow and threw it at you playfully, and you caught it against your chest while laughing. "shut up," he said. "i'm trying to have a moment here."
"you're doing great," you said, your voice still light but a little softer.
he smiled for real then, the kind of smile that takes over his whole face even when he's trying to play it cool. he leaned over and kissed your forehead, staying there for a second with his hand resting on your side. "just tell me if anything ever gets too much, alright? like anything at all. i don't want to fuck this up."
you nodded, and there was a pause before you said, "you won't. i'd tell you if something was wrong."
that seemed to settle something in him. he laid back down, one arm behind his head and the other still draped over you. the room was quiet except for the sound of the sheets whenever either of you shifted around. you laughed out of nowhere, and he turned his head to look at you with his eyebrows drawn together like he was trying to figure out what was funny. "what?"
"nothing," you said, still smiling. "you just look like you're overthinking again."
he ran a hand through his hair and sighed, then looked back at you. "yeah, i was just thinking about something. i don't ever want to be too rough with you or whatever."
you blinked, a little surprised he was bringing that up now, then smiled. "jake, it's fine. i like it. you know i like it."
“yeah, i know,” he said quickly, his thumb brushing your arm while he talked. “but i don’t want you to think that’s all this is. that i just want that.”
you turned your head toward him, eyes narrowing slightly. “it’s not?”
he frowned, confused that you even had to ask. “no, of course not.”
you stared at him for a second, quiet, and it was the kind of silence where you both realized you might not have been on the same page about this whole thing. he kept tracing these light patterns on your shoulder with his fingers and said, "i mean yeah, i wanted to try stuff and experiment or whatever. but i don't want you thinking i'm just using you for it. that's not what's happening here." you looked down for a second, feeling a little embarrassed but also not really knowing what to say to that. he reached up and tilted your chin with his hand so you'd look at him again. "you know i could hook up with literally anyone else if it was just about trying shit out, right?"
you rolled your eyes and laughed. "okay yeah, i get it. you're very popular and desired."
he smiled but shook his head. "that's not what i'm trying to say."
you laughed again, softer this time and less defensive. "i know."
he watched your face for a moment and said quietly, "do you want to talk about it?"
"only if you want to talk about it," you said, your voice smaller but honest.
and then neither of you said anything for a full minute. it was funny in that awkward sort of normal way, like both of you knew this was one of those conversations that could get too serious too fast, and you were just tiptoeing around it. he started messing with the edge of the sheet and you started tracing random shapes on his arm with your finger, both of you obviously thinking about the exact same thing but pretending to be casual about it.
here's the thing though: jake had started catching feelings for you at some point, it just happened. it wasn't just about the sex anymore, and honestly it maybe never was from the start. he liked that you didn't treat him like he was this thing people whispered about at parties or like he was someone's weird project. you just looked at him like he was a regular person trying to figure himself out, not like he was some reputation that walked around campus. you made him feel like it was okay to be curious and mess up and not have everything figured out right away.
he looked at you again and said, "you okay?" and you nodded, smiling just a little, like you both understood that things were different now but neither of you wanted to ruin the moment by saying too much too soon. he leaned in and kissed your forehead again, even softer this time, and you laughed under your breath.
so you ended up staying there the whole next day. it wasn't really planned or discussed, you both just didn't mention leaving and it made sense to stay. he tossed you one of his shirts when you went to take a shower, this soft worn out one he always slept in, and he grinned like an idiot when you came out wearing it like it was the most normal thing in the world.
you ordered food later because neither of you felt like cooking anything, and he made this whole big production out of picking a place even though he always ended up choosing the same korean spot every time. he let you take the last dumpling and then spent ten minutes complaining about it just to keep the joke going. by the time it got dark outside, there was still some movie playing in the background that neither of you were really watching, and you'd ended up half asleep on his chest while he scrolled through his phone with one hand and rubbed these slow circles on your arm with the other.
it was all very normal and kind of domestic, which was weird because this was jake, the guy who never really stuck around with anyone for more than a night or two. but there he was, asking if you wanted water every twenty minutes and telling you to stop thanking him so much for every little thing.
heeseung and sunghoon had gone out that night, which honestly made everything easier. jake mentioned they'd probably get back late, and they did. you heard the front door open at some point but by then you were already half asleep in his bed with his arm around you, both of you pretending not to hear them trying and failing to whisper in the hallway.
the next morning though, that's when it got funny. you woke up first and stole one of jake's hoodies because the place was freezing, then went to make coffee in the kitchen. sunghoon walked in first with his hair going everywhere and his eyes barely open, and he just stood there for a second staring at you like his brain was buffering.
"morning," you said, trying to act completely normal while pouring coffee into a mug.
he blinked a few times, pointed at the hoodie you were wearing, and said, "is that jake's?"
before you could even answer, jake walked in behind him, yawning and scratching the back of his neck. "yeah, what about it?"
sunghoon just started laughing, but it was that disbelieving kind of laugh. "nothing man, just wow. didn't think i'd ever see this day actually happen."
later that day you headed back to your place, jake drove you back. he kissed you before you got out of his car, one of those slow ones that made you both smile after, and then when you got inside your dorm, he stood there in the parking lot like an idiot, watching you get in.
the thing was, after that morning, jake couldn't get you out of his head. and not just in the way he'd been thinking about you before, when it was mostly about wanting to try things or wondering what you'd be like. now it was different, now it was everything.
he'd be sitting in class, supposedly paying attention to some lecture about marketing strategies or whatever, and instead he'd be thinking about the way you'd smiled at him that morning when you handed him his coffee. or he'd be at the gym with sunghoon, mid set, and suddenly he'd remember the way you laughed when he made some dumb joke, and he'd lose count of his reps. he'd remember your moans, then he had to immediately shut that thought away because he didn't want to get hard in front of his gym bro.
"dude, you good?" sunghoon asked him one afternoon, watching jake stare at his phone for the third time in ten minutes.
"yeah, why?"
"you've been weird all week," sunghoon said, setting down his weights. "you keep smiling at your phone like a psycho."
jake shoved his phone in his pocket. "i'm not smiling."
"you literally were just smiling."
"shut up."
but sunghoon wasn't wrong. jake was down bad, and he knew it. the problem was he didn't know what to do about it. you two hadn't really talked about what you were doing, if this was just experimenting or if it was more than that. and jake, who usually never cared about labels or definitions, suddenly found himself wanting to know.
he thought about texting you constantly. not even anything important, just random shit like "what are you doing" or "did you eat today" but he didn't want to seem clingy. except he kind of was being clingy, because every time his phone buzzed he hoped it was you, and when it wasn't, he felt weirdly disappointed.
it got worse at night. he'd lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, and his brain would just replay everything. the way you looked in his hoodie, the way you fit perfectly under his arm, the way you'd kissed him goodbye. and yeah, of course he thought about the freaky sex too, but it wasn't just that anymore. he wanted to wake up next to you again, wanted to make you coffee, wanted to hear you laugh at his stupid jokes.
"i think i'm fucked," he said out loud to his empty room one night, and then laughed at himself because yeah, he definitely was.
by thursday, he'd seen you twice on campus. once you were walking with chaewon and you'd waved at him, that bright smile that made his chest feel tight, and he'd waved back trying to act normal. the second time you were sitting in the library and he'd sat down next to you without asking, and you'd just looked up, smiled, and went back to your laptop like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"you're distracting me," you'd said after a while, not looking up.
"i'm not doing anything."
"you're breathing loud."
he'd laughed, quiet so he wouldn't get shushed by the librarian. "sorry, i'll stop breathing."
you'd looked at him then, that little smirk on your face. "don't be dramatic." and he'd stayed there for an hour, pretending to study but really just sitting next to you, and when you finally packed up your stuff, he'd walked you to your next class even though his was in the opposite direction.
friday night, the guys wanted to go to some party, but jake wasn't really feeling it. he was lying on his bed, scrolling through unhinged instagram reels, when heeseung knocked on his door. "you coming or what?"
"nah, i'm tired."
heeseung raised an eyebrow. "you? tired of a party? since when?"
"since now."
"does this have anything to do with y/n?"
jake looked up at him. "what about her?"
heeseung grinned. "nothing. just seems like you've been in your head a lot lately." he paused, then added, "she's cool, by the way. i like her."
"yeah," jake said, looking back at his phone. "me too."
"then maybe stop being weird about it and just tell her that."
after heeseung left, jake stared at his phone for a solid five minutes before finally opening your messages.
[jake]: you doing anything tonight
you answered almost immediately.
[you]: was gonna watch a movie probably why
[jake]: can i come over
[you]: sure :))
so the thing is, jake wasn’t planning anything when he texted you. like, actually nothing. he just wanted to see you, sit around, maybe talk, maybe not. that was it. except, obviously, his brain didn’t get the memo. because the second you said “sure :)” he was already pacing around his room like an idiot, thinking about what shirt to wear, and then laughing at himself because why the hell did it matter what shirt he wore if this wasn’t a date.
he kept telling himself it wasn’t like that – that he wasn’t going over to hook up or whatever. so there he was, caught somewhere between i just wanna hang out and oh god what if i end up wrapping a collar on her neck again, and honestly, it was ridiculous.
the problem was, jake had never really done this before. not the whole “liking someone” thing, at least not in a way that made him feel this normal, it was messing him up. his chest hurt sometimes, but in a good way, and it annoyed him how much he liked it. he wasn’t used to missing people. usually, when things ended, they ended. easy. but with you, it was different. he was basically down bad and self aware enough to hate it.
he couldn't remember the last time he'd done that. gone to see someone just to be around them. it had been years, maybe never. he wanted to be near you, which felt ridiculous for someone who used to brag about never catching feelings.
somewhere between grabbing his keys and pulling on his hoodie, he had this thought that made him stop and laugh. maybe this was his actual kink. not any of the stuff he'd spent hours googling at three in the morning or reading about on reddit. his real kink was apparently just wanting to spend time with you. no expectations, no plan, just you existing in the same room as him. which was possibly the lamest thing he'd ever admitted to himself, but also kind of true.
and for jake, that was kind of terrifying. because yeah, he’d done a lot of freaky things, but this? catching feelings? this was new level freaky. he had no idea what the next step was. he didn’t know how to play it cool, didn’t know what it meant if he just wanted to hang out, didn’t even know if you felt the same. all he knew was that when you said sure :) he felt something warm in his chest that no amount of hookups ever gave him.
so he got in his car, sat there for a second with his hands on the steering wheel, and said, “this is so stupid,” before driving anyway. because no matter how dumb he felt, he knew he’d rather feel dumb next to you than cool anywhere else.
when jake showed up at your dorm, he didn’t really know what he was expecting. maybe he thought you’d tease him for getting there so fast, or that you’d joke about him being obsessed, which, honestly, wouldn’t have been wrong. but when you opened the door, hair a little messy, wearing some oversized hoodie and cute kuromi socks, he just smiled. it was automatic, the kind of smile that happened before he could even think about it.
you went back to the couch and sat down, pulling your legs under you, while he hovered for a second like he didn’t know where to sit. then he just dropped next to you, close enough that your shoulders brushed. “so,” you said, turning toward him. “did you come here for a reason?”
he looked at you for a second before answering. “i just wanted to see you.”
you raised your eyebrows, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “that’s it?”
“yeah,” he said, and that was the truth. he shrugged a little, but his hand found your thigh without even thinking, resting there gently like it belonged. “that’s it.”
you didn’t say anything right away, but your smile softened. you leaned back into the couch, and he followed your movement like gravity. it wasn’t even about anything physical; he just couldn’t help it. his arm went around your shoulders, pulling you a little closer. it was clingy, yeah, but he wasn’t trying to hide it.
you picked up the remote, flipped through netflix for a while, and he watched you instead of the screen. it was stupid, but he couldn’t help paying attention to the small things, like the way you curled your toes under the blanket, how you made tiny comments about every movie title you didn’t like, how you’d glance at him now and then with that small knowing look like you could tell he wasn’t really watching. “you’re not paying attention,” you said, side eyeing him.
“i am,” he said, though he definitely wasn’t.
“what’s the movie about, then?”
he paused. “uh… friendship?”
you laughed, shaking your head. “it’s twilight, dumbass.”
he grinned, leaning in until his chin was resting against your head. “yeah, but maybe there’s still friendship in there somewhere.”
you rolled your eyes, but you didn’t push him away. he stayed there, arm heavy around you, tracing lazy lines with his fingers on your arm. it wasn’t like him to be this still, this soft, but he didn’t really care. after a while, you said quietly, “you’re weirdly touchy today.”
“you don’t like it?” he asked, tilting his head to look at you.
you thought about it, lips pressed together like you were pretending to consider it. “i didn’t say that.”
“so you do like it,” he said, smirking.
“maybe,” you said, eyes still on the screen. he chuckled and leaned in closer, his nose brushing the top of your head, smelling you. you didn’t move away, just sighed in that way that said you were pretending to be annoyed. his hand stayed resting on your leg, thumb brushing back and forth like a small habit. you glanced at him again and said, “you know you don’t have to act all sweet just to hang out, right?”
he smiled, soft but sure. “i’m not acting.”
you gave him that look, the one that was amused but skeptical, but you didn’t push it. instead, you leaned into him more, your head finding its way to his chest. he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. everything felt slower here, quieter. he liked it more than he’d admit out loud.
later, when you started talking about random things, the class you hated, how the dining hall food was getting worse, how sunoo accidentally set off the dorm alarm again, jake listened like every word mattered. he didn’t even try to hide the smile that kept showing up on his face. and if anyone asked him what that night was, he wouldn’t have known how to describe it. it wasn’t a date, it wasn’t anything official. it was just him and you, a blanket, twilight rants (jake laughed his ass off), and a weird sense that something about all this felt new.
after a while the movie was still on but neither of you were really watching anymore. you were warm under the blanket, leaning against him, and he felt your breathing slow down a little. his own eyes were heavy but he didn’t want to move, not when you felt that close. eventually though you stretched, yawned, and mumbled that your neck was starting to hurt from sitting like that. he nodded and followed you when you got up, both of you kind of quiet but in that easy, comfortable way.
your bed was small, definitely not made for two people, but you didn’t even have to ask him to join you. he slipped in right behind you, pulling you close without hesitation. it was a little awkward with all the shifting around, but once you were both settled under your blanket, it just felt natural.
he tucked his chin against your shoulder, one arm wrapped tight around your waist. you stayed like that for a while, just listening to each other breathe, the silence stretching out in a way that didn’t feel heavy. then he said, voice low like he wasn’t sure if he should break the quiet, “i wanted to see you tonight. that’s all.”
you turned your head slightly, trying to look at him. “i know,” you said softly. “i can tell.”
he let out a small laugh, kind of embarrassed. “good. because i didn’t… like, i wasn’t coming here expecting anything. i just wanted to hang out. i like being around you.”
you felt your chest warm at that, even if you tried not to show it too much. “you’re being really sweet right now.”
“yeah, don’t get used to it,” he teased, then got quiet again. his fingers started tracing light patterns on your stomach, like he couldn’t sit still. “can i be honest about something?”
“always,” you said.
he hesitated, then said, “you know how we’ve been messing around… i really like it, what we're exploring, i don't know.” he laughed at the way he said it, but kept going. “more than i thought i would.”
you blinked, but you didn’t pull away. “okay,” you said, keeping your tone even. “you can just say that. it’s not weird.”
“i know,” he said quickly. “i just don’t want it to sound like that’s the only reason i’m here, because it’s not. i figured it’s better to say this out loud instead of keeping it in my head.”
you nodded slowly. “that makes sense. so what about it do you like?”
he smiled a little, though you couldn’t see it. “the control. the way you look at me when i push you like that. it’s… i don’t know. i didn’t think i’d be into it this much, but i am. and i think i want to explore more of it, but only if you’re into it too.”
you thought about it for a second, then said, “i am. i like it too. and i like that you’re saying this, actually. it makes it easier for me to tell you what i like.”
he squeezed your waist gently. “yeah? tell me, then.”
you turned a little so you could face him better, your noses almost brushing in the dark. “i like when you call me names, but not just mean ones. like, the pet stuff feels… i don’t know, kind of comforting? even when you’re rough. it makes me feel close to you.”
his eyes softened. “that’s good. i want you to feel that way. i don’t want it to ever cross a line where it feels bad.”
“it doesn’t,” you said quickly. “and if it ever did, i’d tell you. but i like that you’re not afraid to be rough and that you pay attention when i push back. it feels balanced, you know?”
he nodded, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “that’s what i want. i don’t want it to just be me getting what i want. i want it to be both of us, figuring it out together.”
“that’s what this is,” you said. “we’re figuring it out.”
he smiled at that, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your temple. “you make it sound easy.”
“it is easy,” you said, settling back against him.
he wrapped you up tighter, holding you close enough that you could feel his heartbeat against your back. “okay, then here’s me being honest again,” he said after a pause. “i’ve never really done this before. not just the kink part, but… like, the after part. i’ve hooked up, i’ve tried stuff, but actually wanting to stay after, wanting to come over just to watch movies? that’s new. and -- it scares me a little.”
you reached back and laced your fingers with his. “i think that’s fine. it doesn’t have to be figured out all at once.”
he exhaled like that was what he needed to hear. “thanks. i… i really like this, i mean.”
you smiled into the dark. “i like this too, jakey.”
for a while neither of you said anything else. his hand stayed tangled with yours, his body warm against yours. you shifted a little, not because you were uncomfortable but because you wanted to see him. when you turned in his arms, he loosened his hold just enough to let you face him, your noses close in the dark. he blinked at you like he hadn’t expected you to move, and for a moment the only thing either of you did was look at each other.
you reached up and brushed your fingers along his jaw, soft and slow. he leaned into your touch without thinking, like it was natural. then you kissed him, and it wasn’t rushed or hungry, not the way you’d kissed before when things were heated and messy. this one was tentative at first, a press of lips that lingered, both of you testing the space.
he kissed you back just as carefully, almost shy in the way he moved his mouth against yours. his hand came up to the side of your face, his thumb rubbing small circles near your temple. it stayed like that for a while, slow and steady, until you tilted your head and opened to him a little more. the change was small but he noticed right away, kissing you deeper, still unhurried but with more intent.
he pulled back just a fraction, enough to whisper, “you feel so good,” before kissing you again.
the warmth built gradually. every time you moved your lips against his, every little sound you made, it drew him in further. he shifted closer until his chest pressed to yours, until there was no real space left between you. you hooked your hand into the collar of his hoodie, pulling him down when he tried to lift his head. when he finally rolled forward, easing his weight over you, it was careful. he braced one arm beside your head so he wouldn’t crush you, letting you feel the solid press of him without it being too much. your legs brushed his, your hands sliding up into his hair, and the kiss turned heavier but not rushed.
he pulled back again, just slightly, breathing against your lips. “you’re perfect,” he said quietly, and it didn’t sound like a line. it sounded like he couldn’t stop himself from saying it.
you kissed him again, harder this time, and he let out a low sound, moving with you, his body lowering a little more until his hips were pressed to yours. still, his pace stayed gentle. every movement was patient, every kiss followed by another, his mouth moving from your lips to your cheek, down to your jaw, then back up like he couldn’t get enough but didn’t want to rush.
“you’re so good to me,” he murmured against your skin, kissing the corner of your mouth again. “i don’t even know if you realize how much.”
your chest tightened at that, and you held him closer, wrapping your arms around him fully now. he pressed his forehead to yours, smiling a little. “i think i could get used to this,” you said, giggling.
“yeah?” he asked, voice low.
“yeah…” you said again, softer this time.
next thing you knew, it was the next morning. sunlight sneaking through your blinds, the both of you tangled up under your blanket, very obviously naked. the night before hadn’t been about roleplay or collars or anything wild. just you and him, a lot of kissing, a lot of laughing in between, and, well, some very unconventional sex. unconventional in the sense that it felt so unplanned and sweet, but also somehow clumsy in a way that made jake whisper “fuck, this might be the best sex i’ve ever had” against your shoulder while you both tried not to laugh.
you both had class that day, but when your alarms went off, you just looked at each other, groaned at the thought of moving, and made a joint decision to skip. you didn’t even say it out loud, jake just reached over, turned off your phone, and pulled you closer.
the day turned into this weird mix of domestic and ridiculous. you made instant noodles together in your dorm kitchen, him insisting he was the “chef” even though he literally almost forgot to put water in the pot. you ended up watching some more twilight movies on your laptop while lying in bed, and he kept pausing it every ten minutes to ask, “wait, so who’s this guy again?” even though you’d explained three times already.
somewhere in the middle of all this, jake got curious and started testing out “soft” versions of kinks he hadn’t gotten around to yet. nothing serious, more like experiments. at one point he asked if he could blindfold you, then immediately ruined it by laughing because he tied it too tight and you complained you couldn’t breathe. another time, he asked if you’d let him feed you chocolate with his hands while calling you “princess,” and you went along with it until you both started laughing so hard the chocolate melted everywhere. he even half joked about barking for you, even though he was actually being very serious.
the point was: it was fun. it wasn’t serious or heavy. just you two being idiots together, seeing what worked, what didn’t, and realizing that sometimes the kinkiest thing was just how easy it felt to try with each other.
when night rolled around, he finally had to leave, which turned into a whole production. you walked him to the door, and he kept stalling like he forgot something: first his phone, then his hoodie, then his keys, even though they were all in his hand. every time you leaned in to give him a goodbye kiss, he found an excuse to kiss you again, until it was basically ten minutes of nonstop kisses.
“okay, i really have to go now,” he said at least four times, and yet he was still standing there, thumb brushing your jaw.
“you’ve said that already,” you pointed out, laughing.
“yeah, but i mean it this time,” he said, leaning down to kiss you again. when he finally pulled back, his voice dropped a little softer. “i had a really good time, you know. like… today. all of it.”
you smiled, brushing his messy hair out of his face. “me too.”
jake kissed your forehead, then your lips one last time, and finally walked out the door. and of course, thirty seconds later, you got a text from him: miss you already.
so obviously you told sunoo about it. what was going on between you and jake. and of course he freaked out, because that’s sunoo. he gasped so loud you had to shush him before someone else heard, then he grabbed your pillow and started smacking you with it, yelling things like i knew it! i knew he liked you! until you had to bribe him with snacks to calm down.
and the thing was, you didn’t even know what you wanted to call it. you’d always kind of liked jake, but in that he’s hot but he’s also kind of an idiot and will probably break my heart kind of way. he’d always been the friend who didn’t take things seriously, the one you swore you’d never catch feelings for because, well, you didn’t want to get hurt. so you built this wall around yourself, kept reminding yourself this was casual, just fun. and you decided you weren’t going to put any labels on it unless jake said he wanted to.
meanwhile, across town, jake had just gotten back to his place. he kicked off his sneakers, flopped down on his bed, stared at the ceiling for a solid five minutes, then pulled out his phone. and, naturally, he opened reddit.
he's typing out a draft for r/Relationship_Advice. the title says friends with benefits situationship except i don't wanna be just friends and i wanna be her pet instead. he’s mid sentence writing about how you wear stupid kuromi socks that distract him way too much, when he decides to scroll the subreddit first.
and then he sees a post. a post that sounds… exactly like you.
r/RelationshipAdvice
u/KeroppiNumber1Lover | 2h
am i overthinking this or is my fwb secretly my boyfriend?
okay so i (24f) have been friends with this guy (23m) for a long time. we were just friends until maybe a month or two ago when he came to me asking for advice about kinks. he remembered i once did that bdsm test thing for fun and thought i’d know more than him, and he wanted to “try some stuff out” and i said fine, why not?? we trust each other, no big deal. so we started hooking up and trying some of those things together.
except now it doesn’t feel like we’re just testing things anymore, it’s different. he still jokes around a lot but when we hang out, it’s not always about sex. sometimes he comes over and we just sit there watching dumb movies. last time we spent hours making fun of twilight together and it was TOO fun. he also keeps doing these little things like he brought me coffee one morning just because???? and then played it off like it wasn’t anything and when i told him i was stressed he hugged me for so long i thought my back would crackkkk sirrrrr that is not fwb behavior omg
the problem is he is kind of known for hooking up with a lot of people in college?? not in a bad way just he never seemed serious with anyone. he’s always been the type i wouldn’t trust to water my plants because he’d probably forget after one day so i’m scared i’ll be stupid if i start to catch feelings for him. but i think i already am?? i do like him, i just don’t know if he feels the same or if this is just me overthinking it. should i say something, or keep my guard up until he says something first?
jake is lying there in bed with his phone basically falling onto his face. he blinks at the screen, rereads it once, then again. “nah… no way. it can’t be… can it??”
then he hits the part about the bdsm test. his brain short circuits. because he did ask that. he literally asked that. he scrolls faster, sees the twilight part, the coffee, the hug. every line feels like a receipt against him. it’s not even subtle. he groans into his pillow. “oh my god. this is literally about me.” then he makes the mistake of reading the comments.
comment 1: “girl if he used to be a fuckboy, protect your heart.”
jake, out loud, also typed: “I WASN’T EVEN THAT BAD. jesus. can y’all move on??”
comment 2: “sounds like you’re already dating, just without the title. either lock it down or walk away.”
jake: “ok see?? finally someone with a brain. pin this comment.”
comment 3: “guys like that just want comfort without commitment. don’t fall for it.”
jake, furious: “i literally brought her coffee at 8am and watched twilight for her. TWILIGHT. what more commitment do you want??”
comment 4: “if he’s treating you like a gf, he probably thinks of you as one already.”
→ jake: “YES. thank you random internet genius. i love you.”
comment 5: “say something before it drags on. if he’s serious, he’ll say yes. if not, at least you’ll know.”
he sighs. “okay. yeah. fine. i get it. i’ll say something. god.”
he ends up throwing his phone down on the bed and just staring at the ceiling, feeling like the universe is laughing at him. like, of all places, reddit?? that’s where he finds out you’re basically calling him your “maybe-boyfriend”?
but deep down, even while he’s cringing at strangers dissecting his love life, he can’t help smiling. because at least now he knows he’s not the only one catching feelings.
so after doomscrolling reddit for like an hour and basically convincing himself he was the main character in your post, jake sat there and thought, ok i can’t just do nothing. he wanted to make a move, but not the usual dumb moves he always made. he started running through everything he knew you liked. movies. you had a letterboxd longer than a textbook, always roasting his “basic” taste but still making him watch stuff with you. sanrio. you had those socks on, like, every time he came over. your little chococat keychain was hanging off your bag right now. the oversized hoodies you lived in. your pc setup that he still couldn’t get over because he never struck you as a gamer, but then he walked into your dorm that one time and saw a glowing pastel keyboard with little frog stickers on it.
he kept trying to figure out: how do i surprise her? he thought about showing up in a full hello kitty hoodie (terrible idea), maybe making you watch every twilight movie in one sitting (he’d die), or even buying you some dumb sanrio plush and pretending he didn’t spend hours looking for it. none of it felt right.
a few days later he was sitting on the floor while heeseung was baked out of his mind, button mashing fifa with sunghoon. jake was half talking to himself when he muttered, “i just… i don’t know how to ask her without making it weird.”
heeseung, not looking up from the screen, said, “why don’t you just ask her out like a normal person.” jake stared at him. “yeah, like, words. say them. ‘do you wanna go out.’ boom.”
sunghoon snorted. “crazy concept.”
jake groaned, but in the end he thought, maybe they’re right. maybe you’d actually take it well.
so the next day, he pulled the dumbest move possible. he memorized your class schedule. you were sitting in one of your electives, sunoo on one side of you, when jake just strolled in and sat down on the other side. no notebook, no laptop, not even pretending. he just leaned back in the chair like he belonged there.
you blinked at him, whispering, “what are you doing here? you don’t even take this class.”
sunoo leaned forward across you, eyes narrowed. “yeah, what are you doing here?”
jake ignored him completely and looked at you, his voice low. “are you free tonight?”
you laughed quietly, shaking your head. “yeah… why? wanna come over?” you asked, teasing him before he could answer.
but jake shook his head, smiling a little. “actually, i’ve been thinking about taking you out.”
sunoo raised his brows, looking back and forth between you two like he was watching a live drama unfold. you just bit back another laugh, a little caught off guard but also clearly not against it. “okay,” you said softly. “where?”
he hadn’t actually planned that far, but he quickly blurted, “there’s this restaurant off campus. i heard it’s good.” it wasn’t fancy, but it was nice enough that it felt like a real step up from eating cup noodles in your dorm.
you tilted your head, still smiling. “so… a date?”
jake nodded, trying not to look as nervous as he felt. “yeah. a date.”
you tilted your head a little, smiling. “yeah, that sounds nice.”
and in his brain, jake basically blacked out. oh my god she said yes we’re going on a date holy shit this is happening. he wanted to fist pump the air like an idiot but instead he just sat there nodding like it was no big deal. he mumbled something about texting you later, then immediately packed up and left the classroom before sunoo could say a word.
the second he stepped out, he pulled out his phone and typed “she said yes” into his notes app like he needed proof it actually happened. then he drove home and told himself to stay calm. he was not calm. he tore through his closet, tried on three different shirts, showered twice, searched “best first date outfits men” on pinterest. eventually he gave up and picked the cleanest shirt he had, some jeans, and sneakers that didn’t look like they’d been through war.
when he went to pick you up, you opened the door and jake’s brain short circuited again. you weren’t overdressed, you just looked nice. too nice for him, he thought. your hair, your perfume, the way you smiled at him, it all hit him at once. he immediately leaned in for a quick peck, lingering a little too long, his hand sliding down to your waist like he couldn’t help himself. “you look really good,” he blurted.
you smirked. “you too.”
the restaurant was this little italian place just off campus. dim lighting, small tables with candles, the kind of spot people actually go to for dates. he held the door for you, pulled your chair out, doing all the things he never thought he’d actually do. the conversation was easy. you both ordered pasta, and while waiting for the food you ended up talking about random stuff, laughing over the couple next to you who were obviously on a bad date, debating which twilight movie was the worst one.
“new moon,” you said confidently.
“nah, eclipse,” jake argued, shaking his head. “that one fight scene was garbage.”
“you laughed the entire time.”
“exactly. it was trash.”
the food came and you both dug in, joking about how unromantic it was to slurp spaghetti. at one point you teased him about how “un-jake” it was for him to plan something like this, and he shrugged with a small grin, admitting, “yeah well… i wanted to do it right.”
after dinner, he drove you back, and when he parked outside your dorm, the air in the car felt a little heavier, charged but not exactly awkward. he glanced at you, smiling. “you know, i had so much fun today.”
“me too,” you said, meeting his eyes.
jake leaned in and kissed you, slow and sweet, his hand finding your cheek. when he pulled back, he looked at you for a second, then smirked. “even though you’re calling me your maybe-boyfriend on reddit.”
you froze. “what— oh my god. you read that??”
he laughed, nodding. “yeah. it popped up. i knew it was you.”
you covered your face with your hands, groaning. “i’m gonna actually die.”
he gently pulled your hands down, kissing your palm, still grinning. “no, don’t worry, i liked it. i even went through the comments. i might’ve called a girl an idiot for saying you should protect yourself from fuckboys.”
“you argued with strangers about it?”
“yep. full on fighting in the replies. i was on your side, by the way.”
you shook your head, laughing. “you were on your side!”
he kissed your cheek, still laughing, softer this time. “maybe. but i like being your maybe-boyfriend.”
you kind of froze when he said it, like it took your brain a second to actually process. your face went a little hot and you looked down, suddenly shy. he noticed right away and leaned in a little closer, still holding your hand. “hey, don’t freak out. i like you. i’m not trying to rush anything, i swear.” you blinked, trying to figure out what to say, and he kept going before you could answer. “like, i know this was supposed to be a friends with benefits thing, right? but every time i’m with you i feel like… i don’t know. like i’m the one chasing you. and i keep calling you my pet in bed, but it kinda feels like i’m your dog instead.”
that made you laugh, like actually laugh out loud, and he smiled because you finally looked at him again. “you’re ridiculous,” you said, still laughing.
“yeah, but i’m serious. i don’t wanna be just friends.” he squeezed your hand and added, a little softer, “i want more than that.”
you let out a small sigh, still smiling but definitely nervous too. “i like being with you. i like you, jake. i just… didn’t know if you felt the same.”
“well, i do.”
your face lit up immediately. “yeah?”
“yeah.”
you smiled tenderly and that was all he needed. he leaned across the console, kissed you again, deeper this time, his hand cupping your cheek while you kissed him back. it was sweet and warm and a little desperate, the kind of kiss that made it pretty clear neither of you were just “friends” anymore.
so the whole week after that, jake was basically living in boyfriend mode without even saying he was, but oh boy, he was. like, he was picking you up from class just because he “happened to be around,” but then he’d have your favorite snack waiting in the car. you two started having this dumb little routine of going grocery shopping together, and he’d put random stuff in the cart just to see you roll your eyes and then sneak it back when you weren’t looking.
at night, he’d call you even if you’d already spent the whole day together. sometimes he’d just be lying in his bed, rambling about whatever, and then suddenly go quiet like he realized how much he liked hearing you breathe on the other end. he’d come over to yours a lot too, and half the time sunoo would be there making fun of him for being “clingy as hell.” jake didn’t even deny it anymore, he was too busy following you around your own place like a golden retriever.
but there was one night where he was acting especially wild. like, from the second he saw you, he couldn’t stop touching you. his hand on your back, his arm around your waist, kissing your shoulder while you were just trying to make popcorn. he looked at you like he couldn’t believe you were actually there with him, which, to be fair, was how he felt most of the time.
you noticed, of course. you kept laughing at how clingy he was being, but he just smirked like he didn’t even care if he was obvious. he leaned in close while you were sitting on the couch, his voice lower than usual. “you know,” he said, fingers brushing over your knee, “i kinda wanna try something different with you.” you tilted your head at him, curious, and he grinned, eyes way too mischievous. “don’t freak out, i’ll explain. but i promise you’re gonna like it.”
later that night, you were in his bedroom, and the whole house was quiet. jake was in one of his moods, where he couldn’t keep his mouth off you. he kissed along your neck, your shoulders, down your chest like he was trying to memorize every bit of you. his hands were slow but firm, holding you in place like you were something he wanted to worship. every time you made the slightest sound, he murmured praise into your skin, all soft but teasing. you looked at him, a little out of breath, and asked, “what is it you wanted to try?” your voice was curious, and that made him grin even wider, like he’d been waiting for you to ask.
he sat back on his knees, eyes glued to you, and said, “i got you something. a little toy.” the way he said it was too casual, like he wasn’t basically throwing gasoline on the fire. “thought it’d suit my puppy.”
the second he called you that, you slipped into it without even thinking. you tilted your head at him, playful, already slipping into that pet energy he loved so much. your hands curled against the sheets like paws, and you looked at him with wide, eager eyes. jake chuckled low, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip. “see? there she is. my good girl.” he leaned down and kissed you again, slower this time, almost smug at how naturally you fell into the role. “you’re gonna let me try it on you, right?”
the way you nodded instantly made him laugh against your mouth. “of course you will. my puppy always listens.” he kept praising you in between kisses, dragging his hands down your sides, his voice soft but dripping with control.
he reached over to his nightstand, opening the drawer like he was trying to be casual about it, but you could see the way his hands hesitated for a second. jake pulled something out, set it on the bed next to you, and for a moment he almost looked shy. it was a buttplug with a soft little tail attached, and he rubbed the back of his neck like he wasn’t sure if he’d just ruined the mood.
“i, uh… got this for you,” he admitted, glancing at your face quickly, testing your reaction. “it might be a little… freaky. i wasn’t sure if you’d even wanna try it.”
but you didn’t flinch. instead, you smiled at him in that way that always made him feel like his chest was on fire. “i want to try whatever you want to, jakey.”the second you said that, something in his head clicked, the nerves melted into pure want. his whole body reacted before his brain caught up.
he let out a low laugh, shaking his head, but you could see how much hotter he suddenly looked at you. “you’re… insane, you know that? i bring this out and instead of running you’re saying yes. fuck. my perfect puppy.”
he kissed you hard then, deeper than before, one hand cradling your jaw like you were something fragile even while his words were all possession. he left the tail sitting on the pillow beside you, within sight, like a promise for later. “you’re already so good for me,” he kept murmuring against your skin as he started peeling your clothes off piece by piece. every time a new inch of you was bare, he touched it, kissed it, praised it. “beautiful… all mine… such a good girl for me.”
his hands roamed like he couldn’t decide where to stay, gripping your hips, sliding up your ribs, tracing along your thighs. his voice stayed low but steady, every praise making you sink further into the role he loved. “you’re my puppy,” he whispered against your stomach as he kissed lower. “you listen, you let me take care of you, and you make me want you more than anything.”
he stayed there for a second, breathing against your skin. jake looked up at you, and there was that look again, the one he’d had when he showed up in your class, when he asked you out, when he kissed you in the car after dinner.
“you know,” he said, voice softer now but still a little teasing, “when i first started this… all i wanted was to mess around. try things. have fun. i didn’t think it’d turn into… this.” he gestured between the two of you, a small huff of laughter escaping. “you’ve got me completely gone.”
you reached out, brushing his hair back, laughing, “i like being yours. i wanna be yours”. and he exhaled like he’d been holding it in for weeks.
he kissed you then, slow, warm, but still a little desperate. when he stopped, he smiled so wide it almost broke his face, and whispered, “good. because i don’t wanna be just friends. i wanna be yours too.”
the toy stayed on the pillow, forgotten for now. just the two of you, finally admitting what everyone probably already knew.
!! ronnie's notes: i can’t believe i finally finished this fic 😭 i actually started writing it back in june and for some reason it took me forever to get it done lmaoo mostly bc i really wanted to take my time with it and make it feel right. i’ve been planning to post it for kinktober since literally junee, so the fact that i’m managing to post it before october ends feels kinda unreal 😭 this is actually my third kinktober fic this year, i also posted one for jake (which was technically for a sabrina carpenter album collab but it counts 😭) and one for soobin that i wrote like a million years ago. but this one was the fic i’d been planning for kinktober since the beginning, so she’s special to me!!! anyway, i really hope you guys like it. thank you for reading and for sticking around <3
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