☆

“I’m sorry, what?”

“A position at the Armed Detective Agency.”

No preamble. No small talk. No explanation. The fuck?

You blinked. “Why?”

He didn’t answer, nodding towards the agency’s table. And there he was again, the bandaged man, with his elbows on the table, cheek in his hand, watching you.

“I thought your agency had an entry exam,” you said slowly, still trying to process his invitation. Who the hell comes up with that as a conversation starter? Plus, would your boss even let you go this easily? You shuddered at the thought of him finding you speaking to the famous Agency’s President (he’d probably ramble about how you were trying to escape his company).

“We make exceptions,” Fukuzawa replied.

Why?

That night, you couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t excitement. It was something colder, tighter, lodged under your ribs like a sliver of glass. The next morning, your boss called you, and told you not to come in.

“Why not?” You asked, perplexed.

“Oh, you know, organizational restructuring. It’s best for everyone…” he said, and hung up on you.

Was it even possible to get fired on a phone call?

You stared at the phone in your hand, then out the window of your apartment. Slowly, you got up to unpack the bag you usually took to the office. What had you done wrong, or right, or whatever mix of both got you noticed?

Then your mind drifted to the President from yesterday. Were you being traded? Thrown out? Or, you wanted to laugh, hand-picked? None of it made sense, and no one was telling you anything either.

Two weeks later, you stepped into the lobby of the Armed Detective Agency with a suitcase, a folder of credentials. The receptionist smiled politely, leading you into the main office. There was the same woman with violet eyes there, Yosano, as she introduced herself, complimenting you on your skin (though, judging by the look on her eyes, it might’ve been a threat).

“Oh, you made it! Was starting to think you’d ghosted us.”

You turned around, and there he was again; the bandage man, Dazai, you learned. Your eyes drifted from his neck to his arms. Was he always this injured?

Kunikida didn’t like you.

He never said it, but you could tell. In the way he’d glance at you over his glasses like he was still trying to figure out what category to shove you into — and failing. The way he excluded you from mission briefings unless absolutely necessary, or left you off group messages and claimed it was an accident.

He was structure, incarnate. A man made of rules and order and iron-spined ideals that he recited like prayers. Everything in his world had a purpose. Everything earned its place.

You, on the other hand, had skipped the evaluation.

No trial run. No paperwork anyone could seem to find. Just a quiet invitation from Fukuzawa after a symposium went sideways.

You might’ve laughed about it if it didn’t feel so... personal. Like being let in through a door you weren’t supposed to notice, only to find yourself standing in a room full of people waiting for you to prove you belonged there.

“Don’t mind him,” Ranpo said one morning, already laying across your desk like he owned it. “He’s just bitter you got in without jumping through the hoops.” He started poking at your pen cup. “Got any lollipops?”

“I don’t keep candy.”

Ranpo blinked. “Why not?”

You hesitated. “...Personal trauma.”

He paused for all of three seconds. “Diabetes?” Then he stole a paperclip and vanished.

You did not have diabetes.

Yosano, at least, was genuinely warm. She didn’t speak to you like you were a new recruit or a fragile thing. Just offered you tea sometimes and invited you out with her when she went shopping. You found yourself saying yes more often than you expected, although the others would run and hide whenever she needed someone with her on a shopping spree.

Atsushi was kind too. But it was like someone had told him to be nice to you and he was still working out why. Kenji gave you radishes, and you weren’t quite sure what to do with them, so you just kept accepting them with a thank you and a soft smile.

And Dazai?

Dazai was strange.

Sometimes he’d flirt — shamelessly, lazily, like it took no effort at all. He’d lean in close while you worked, so close you could smell his cologne (clean linen, faint citrus). His arm would brush yours casually, too much so, like he wanted you to think it didn’t mean anything.

“What are you working on, pretty thing?” he’d murmur, voice low and velvety, with just enough edge beneath it to make you question if the sweetness was real. Sometimes he’d tap a finger against your notes or circle a word in your planner just to leave a trace, a little ghost of him.

It wasn’t fair, the way he played affection and indifference with the same mouth. Because other days? Nothing. Not a glance, not a smirk. You’d walk in, say good morning, and he’d brush past you like you weren’t even there, like you were just background noise.

The first time it happened, you thought you’d done something wrong. The fifth time, you stopped pretending not to care. He kept you guessing, and because of that, you kept looking.

You were composed, always. You remembered everyone’s names. You offered to help Yosano sort case files even when your own inbox was full. You kept pens in a little organizer, color-coded by function. You took notes in meetings with clean margins and underlined dates. You laughed when appropriate, smiled when expected, and didn’t ask why Fukuzawa had offered you a job without so much as a trial run.

It felt like a test you hadn’t studied for. But you still passed. You always passed.

One afternoon, Dazai wandered into the break room while you were making tea. you offered a polite smile, the kind you practiced in the mirror when you were trying not to give anything away.

He didn’t return it, just stood there silently, watching you stir your cup.

“…Need something?” you asked.

He tilted his head like a cat. “You always look so calm.”

You blinked. “Is that a bad thing?”

He didn’t answer. He reached past you to grab a sugar packet and left without another word.

Other times, he lingered. He would sit at your desk when you were in the middle of emails, eating pocky or flipping through some file you’d left open. Once, he made a paper crane out of your post-it note, then set it on your keyboard like a gift.

“You’re too neat,” he said once. “Like a doll someone put together just right.”

You looked up. “and you’re too loud, like a talking microwave.”

He grinned. “Touche.”

The worst part was — you liked the attention. Even when it confused you, even when it made your stomach twist in weird ways. There was something about him that felt… inevitable. And you were trying. God, were you trying not to slip away in his current — trying and failing.

So you stayed busy. You wrote mission reports, edited proposals, and kept up with logistics and meetings and strategy calls until your head spun. You were always the one with the answer. always the one people came to when they needed a plan.

Still, some days, you caught yourself watching the door, waiting to see if he’d glance your way.

Just once.

And when he didn’t, you went right back to your notes quietly, like nothing had happened.

—

You hadn’t meant to say it.

You were curled up on Yosano’s couch in your sleep shirt and someone else’s hoodie, a half-empty wine glass sweating on the coffee table and a bowl of strawberries between you. Some old movie was playing, neither of you really watching it. Your legs were tangled over hers lazily, socks mismatched. She smelled like lavender shampoo and clove smoke, maybe.

It had started out normal. She asked how work was, you groaned. She asked if kunikida had said anything rude again, and you nodded. She asked if dazai was still acting weird around you and—

You hesitated.

She didn’t miss it, though.

Yosano turned down the movie with the remote, then leveled a look at you. “You’ve been blushing when he teases you lately.”

You blinked. “I have not.”

“You have. You also smile at your phone after reading his texts.”

“I smile at everyone’s texts.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You smiled when he sent you a photo of a sock he found on the sidewalk.”

“...He said it looked like a sad little ghost.”

“Mmhmm.” She sipped her wine. “Just admit it.”

You stared down at your knees, picking at a loose thread on your sleeve. “It’s not a thing,” you said, quietly. “It’s just — I don’t know. I might have a tiny crush on him. maybe.”

She was silent for a second. then, “Finally.”

You groaned and buried your face in your hands.

“Hey.” she tapped your knee with her toe. “It’s not a big deal.”

“No, I know, I just… saying it out loud makes it real.”

“Do you want it to be real?”

You didn’t answer right away, you didn’t know how to. You just sat there for a bit, letting the question settle. Yosano didn’t push.

Eventually, you said, “I like how he listens. Not always seriously, but… he remembers things. Like the way I take my tea. The author I mentioned once in passing. When I get quiet, he doesn’t try to fix it. Just sort of… makes space.”

Yosano gave you a slow smile. “So you like like him.”

You groaned again, sinking deeper into the couch. “God, I’m twelve.”

“You’re not. You’re just human.”

You didn’t say anything. You were smiling, though — small and stupid and full of something warm you didn’t know how to name.

Outside, the rain started. Yosano passed you the wine bottle. “He’s lucky,” she said. “Not that I’d ever tell him that to his face.”

You took a sip and laughed. For the first time in weeks, you didn’t feel like a stranger inside your own skin.

---

You were having a decent morning.

Tea brewed just right. A clean inbox (a rare blessing). The sun came in soft through the office window, painting warm lines across your desk. Kenji had brought in those little red bean buns again. Atsushi smiled at you in the hallway. Even dazai hadn’t done anything weird yet today.

And then your phone rang. The name on the screen made your stomach twist.

Mother.

You could’ve let it go to voicemail — you should have. But you didn’t. You never did.

“Hi, mom,” you answered, voice already two decibels higher than usual.

“Finally,” she huffed. “I was starting to think you’d gone completely off the grid. Are you still at that detective place?”

“Yeah, the Armed Detective Agency. I’ve been there for a while now, remember?”

“Hmm.” a pause. you could hear her lighting a cigarette. “They paying you properly?”

“It’s fine.”

“Fine,” she echoed, like it was a disease. “You always say that. Fine isn’t good enough, sweetheart. You’ve got a brain. Use it.”

“I am using it.”

“Well, good. Then maybe you can send some money this week. Your brother’s tuition’s due.”

Your heart pinched. She always said your brother when she wanted something. Never his name.

“I just paid for your new phone.”

“So? You make more than me. And you don’t even have kids, or a husband, or rent that’s worth the walls you’re stuck in.”

You closed your eyes, rubbed your temple. “Mom—”

“Are you seeing anyone?”

The question came fast, a feather that could turn into a brick if you answered wrong.

“Um.”

“Because I saw on the news,” she continued, breezing on like she hadn’t just left you spinning, “that that port mafia guy with the hat is hot now. Are you into that sort of thing?”

“What? No. Absolutely not.”

“Well, he’s rich. Dangerous, sure, but sometimes that’s the price of stability.”

“I’m not dating a mafia executive, mom.”

“Then who are you dating?” she pressed, syrupy now. “Come on, you’ve got to be seeing someone. You were always so pretty in a quiet way. Mysterious. Men love that.”

And you panicked. You could’ve said no. You could’ve ended the call. But the word tumbled out before you could stop it:

“I’m… seeing someone from work.”

Silence. Then a delighted gasp. “Finally. And?”

“And… it’s new,” you mumbled, eyes darting to the hallway like someone might catch you in the lie. “So. not really a big deal.”

“Is he rich?”

You paused. “…What?”

“Rich. Does he have money? Benefits? A good apartment?”

“I don’t— I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Sweetheart, ask. How else are you supposed to secure your future? God, do I have to coach you through everything?”

You winced. “he’s… stable.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“He’s…” your brain scrambled. “He’s clever. Funny. Good at his job.”

“That’s lovely, dear, but you can’t eat charm.”

You almost laughed, and she sighed dramatically. “Fine. at least tell me he comes from a decent family. Does he dress well? Tall?”

“He wears bandages.”

“…Excuse me?”

“Uh— he’s tall.”

“Hmm.”

Another long drag of her cigarette. The sound made your chest tight. Like being twelve again, watching her get ready in the mirror, listening to her tell you how to hold your face just right so you wouldn’t end up alone.

“Just don’t waste your prime years,” she said. “You’re not twenty forever. No one wants a tired woman with opinions.”

You bit the inside of your cheek.

“You’re right,” you said softly. “I’ll ask.”

“Good girl.”

The call ended. You set the phone down like it weighed a thousand pounds. Your tea had gone cold. The light from the window had shifted. Your inbox had filled with new requests while you weren’t looking.

You pressed a hand to your chest and breathed. It wasn’t real. You had no boyfriend. But for a moment, you’d almost made yourself believe it could be. Dazai flashed in your mind, all lazy smiles and unreadable eyes. The way he watched you sometimes.

“God,” you whispered. “I’m insane.”

“Talking to yourself now?” came a voice from the doorway. You jolted. Yosano leaned against the frame, arms crossed, amused. “Bad call?” she asked.

You hesitated. “…My mother,” you admitted.

Her expression softened. “Want to go out tonight? Drinks on me.”

---

It took you all day to work up to it.

You didn’t even have a plan, really. No strategy, no elegant phrasing. And that wasn’t like you at all. You were usually composed, clear-headed in conversation, good at making your words count. That was what they hired you for, right? Communication and persuasion.

But this? What the hell was this?

You walked into Dazai’s shared office after pacing the hallway twice and pretending to look for a misplaced file. He was sitting at his desk, chair tipped dangerously back on two legs, eyes half-lidded like he was halfway to sleep or pretending to be. He cracked one open when you entered.

“Well, well,” he said, voice low and warm. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You cleared your throat. “Hey. Um. Do you have a minute?”

“For you?” he smiled, letting the chair drop back onto all four legs. “Always.”

You hesitated in the doorway, then stepped inside, closing it gently behind you.

“So,” you started, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “This is going to sound really weird. And random. And probably kind of unhinged.”

“My favorite kind of conversation,” dazai murmured.

You looked up at him. His expression was amused but open. You inhaled. “I was just wondering... how much does the agency pay?”

That got a blink out of him. “Ah?”

“Like, on average. Monthly. For agents. You don’t have to tell me your salary,” you added quickly, “I just— my mom was asking. And I guess it got me thinking. I never actually asked when I joined.”

He tilted his head. “So your mother’s the one who wants to know how much I make?”

Your ears burned. “Not— specifically you, just in general. I mean, I told her I was seeing someone here—”

You froze.

Dazai smiled, slowly. “Oh?”

You waved your hands. “Fake! I panicked! She was asking invasive questions and I just— I don’t know why I said it, I just did, and now she thinks I have a boyfriend who works here and is maybe rich, and—”

“And you came to me,” he said, resting his chin on one hand, eyes glinting. “Specifically.”

You stopped, lips parting like a rebuttal might come out. But it didn’t.

He chuckled. “Well, that’s flattering.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, covering your face. “This is so embarrassing.”

“No, no, I'm honored.” He leaned forward. “So? Am I rich?”

You peaked between your fingers. “I don't know. are you?”

He grinned. “Depends who’s asking.”

“I just said who’s asking.”

“Ah, but are you asking? Or is this for your mother’s fantasy boyfriend spreadsheet?”

You groaned and slumped into the nearest chair. “You’re so annoying.”

“I've been told.”

There was a beat of quiet. His gaze softened. “You’ve really never looked at your salary slip?”

You shrugged. “It's automatic. I try not to think about money too much.”

“How noble.”

“Thanks.”

He studied you a moment longer. “So... are you planning to quit?”

You looked at him, surprised. “What? No.”

“Then why the sudden curiosity? Assuming you chose to listen to your mother when she told you to ask me for my salary,” he said, tilting his head again, like he was gently dissecting you. “Has the ramen finally broken your spirit?”

You snorted. “Maybe.”

“Or maybe,” he continued, standing slowly and crossing the room to you, “you’re looking for something.” He leaned against the desk beside you, arms folded, gaze flickering down your face. “Security, perhaps? Answers? Affection?” His voice dropped a notch. “Me?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Do you ever answer questions directly?”

“Do you ever ask questions just once?”

“I asked how much you get paid.”

“You did,” he agreed, tapping his lip thoughtfully. “But that’s such a boring thing to talk about when there are far more interesting mysteries in this room.”

You sighed, fighting a smile.

“I'll tell you this much,” he said, voice soft now. “The agency doesn’t pay in riches. But it gives you something else. Something worth staying for.”

“Like what?”

His eyes met yours, suddenly serious. “A place.” You blinked. “Somewhere to be useful,” he added. “To belong. To be... seen.” Your breath caught.

He held your gaze for one more second, then straightened and stretched, all lazy elegance. “And also health insurance.”

You let out a shaky laugh. “You’re weird,” you said.

“Thank you.”

You stood, brushing off your pants. “I'm telling my mom you’re rich.”

“Ah, I knew it,” he said brightly. “You do have a crush on me.”

“No, I don't.”

“You do.”

You opened the door. “Goodbye, Dazai.”

“Tell her I drive a nice car.”

“You don’t have a car.”

“She doesn’t have to know that.”

You shut the door behind you, heartbeat way too loud for how dumb the conversation was.

---

The agency was empty except for you and dazai. It was well past working hours, but neither of you seemed to mind. You had half a case report open on your screen and he had half a cup of coffee going cold on your desk, his feet kicking up on the corner like he owned the place, like he always did.

“Working overtime again, sweetheart?” he asked, grinning, like the nickname wouldn’t make your face heat.

“Maybe I like the extra pay,” you shot back, eyes still on the screen.

“The pay? Tragic,” he sighed dramatically. “If you’re staying for that, I might need to stage an intervention.”

He leaned in close, chin nearly touching your shoulder, as if he needed to read what was on your screen. He didn’t. You knew he didn’t. He knew he didn’t, too. You leaned slightly away, only for him to mirror you with a little smile, like you’d just proven a theory he’d had all along.

“You know, you could always marry rich,” he said, voice low and teasing. “Let some poor fool fund your late-night workaholic habits.”

“I thought that’s what you were for,” you said before you could stop yourself.

He blinked, and then laughed.

“Well, well. Someone’s growing teeth.”

The door opened.

“Y/N?!”

You froze. Dazai straightened, watching as a woman you hadn’t seen in months strode into the office like she owned it. Her heels echoed against the wood loudly. Your mother.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice cracked. You stood, too quickly, knocking your chair slightly out of place.

“I was in the area,” she said breezily. “I thought I’d check in on my darling daughter. This is your new job, huh? A bit shabby.”

She scanned the room with barely hidden disdain. Then her eyes landed on Dazai.

“Oh? and who’s this?” she said, already smirking. “Is this the boyfriend you were too shy to tell me about?”

Your soul briefly left your body. You opened your mouth to say no, to correct her, but Dazai, of course, was nothing more than your—

“That’s me,” he said smoothly, rising from his seat. He offered a hand, not expecting her to take it. “Her boyfriend. Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

“He’s skinny,” she said bluntly, as if he wasn’t in the room at all. “Probably not much money.”

“You wound me,” dazai replied, handing over his heart. “I do alright.”

“Doesn’t look like much of a provider,” she muttered.

“He’s not,” you hissed under your breath. “He’s not my boyfriend. Please don’t—”

“Tea,” she said suddenly. “Make me some. Or is that too much to ask for a daughter who never visits?”

“You don’t have to do that, honey,” Dazai said, grinning curling up at the corners. You shot him a glare.

“It’s fine,” you said through gritted teeth. “I’ll make it.”

You fled to the agency kitchenette, boiling water and biting the inside of your cheek. Your hands shook. You hated that she could still make you feel like you were just twelve years old.

But when you came back, she was gone. Dazai was sitting on your desk again, eating a piece of chocolate from your drawer.

“Where’d she go?” you asked.

He popped the rest of the chocolate into his mouth and shrugged.

“Muttered something about not being welcome here and left,” he said.

“You didn’t say anything to her, did you?”

“Nothing too rude.”

You narrowed your eyes. He held his hands up in mock innocence.

“Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a scout.”

“You remember!” He smiled, nudging the tea tray you’d brought in closer.

“So. You gonna let me take you out for dinner now, or what? Boyfriend duties and all.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re blushing.”

“Shut up.”

He didn’t. He just smiled.

“Want me to get you a cab?” Dazai’s voice was light, like the whole thing hadn’t happened. “I'll pay. Don’t worry about my wallet — I’ll just skip breakfast and lunch for next week.”

You blinked at him. “…You don’t have a bike or something?”

He gasped, mock-offended. “Do I look like a man with reliable transportation?”

“You don’t even look like a man who eats breakfast.”

“You wound me.”

You snorted — just a little — and nodded. “Fine. Thanks.”

He grinned, that slow-lidded fox grin that made you feel like you were standing too close to something dangerous. 

In the taxi, you sat side by side. City lights smeared against the windows. You held your bag in your lap like a shield. He slouched beside you, one arm casually draped over the backseat, fingers inches from your shoulder.

Your phone buzzed. One look at the sender made your stomach drop.

Mom: He’ll break your heart. He’s just like your father. You can’t trust someone like that. Do not get attached!!

You stared at the screen. Then slowly, as if automatically, you locked your phone without an answer, tilting it away from you and into your lap. Instead, you turned to Dazai.

“So,” you said softly, “What do you usually eat for breakfast? When you’re not skipping it for charity cab rides.”

He blinked. Then he smiled, warm and real.

“Coffee and half a banana if i’m lucky,” he replied. “And you?”

“Uh. toast,” you murmured, suddenly self-conscious. “Or those sad little triangle sandwiches from the corner store.”

“Gourmet,” he teased. “We should go out sometime. I’ll find the worst breakfast place in yokohama. Really make it a miserable date.”

You laughed, surprised by how easy it came. “Deal. As long as you’re paying.”

“Ah, the betrayal,” he said, clutching his heart. “Using me for my zero yen net worth.”

You smiled into your lap.

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy. It was soft. You looked out the window, watched neon signs flicker in a language only 2am could speak. Dazai didn’t say anything else, just let you be.

---

The basement cafe was warm that afternoon. The kind of humid, sleepy warmth that comes from too many machines running at once. Espresso steam hung low over the counter, fogging the narrow windows. You had come down because Ranpo had forgotten his snack tin again, and Yosano had very pointedly asked you to be the one to retrieve it. You didn’t question why. You didn’t really need to.

Besides, you’d seen Dazai slip down there earlier.

Not that you were following him, not exactly. More like — you had an idea. A hope that maybe he’d be there, that maybe he’d look up and smile when he saw you, maybe lean against the counter with that lazy charm and say something dumb like “If i’d known you were coming, I’d have ordered two.”

And you’d laugh, and maybe call him an idiot, and maybe mean it affectionately.

You liked this version of him. The version that lingered around your desk and asked you things he already knew the answers to, just to hear you speak. The version that smiled crookedly and poked fun at you for bringing extra pens, then borrowed them all. The version who once called you sweetheart in a voice so low and unexpected it rewired your brain for an entire afternoon.

Today, though, he wasn’t alone.

She was pretty. Of course she was. Tall, sleek, with a subtle perfume and cheap lipstick and even cuter boots. He leaned in close to her across the small two-seater table by the café’s far wall, her hand draped in his like it belonged there.

You froze halfway through the doorway.

The laugh she let out was bright but practiced. Dazai smiled — not the lazy smile he gave you, the one that meant I’m bored, entertain me — but a different one. It was charming and dazzling. When he spoke to her, his voice was low and flirtatious, tinged with amusement.

“You don’t have to be so harsh,” he said, thumb brushing her knuckles. “We’re practically old friends, aren’t we?”

You didn’t hear her answer. You didn’t want to.

Some part of you kept standing there, as if the longer you looked, the less real it would become. As if the moment would shift and correct itself.

But it didn’t.

He didn’t even look up.

Something bitter lodged itself in your throat. Your stomach sank, slowly, like it was learning gravity all over again. Your hand curled tighter around Ranpo’s tin.

And then you turned, walking back up the stairs like your shoes were filled with cement.

—

The ignoring started small. You didn’t say good morning. You didn’t answer when he asked what you were working on. You passed him in the hall with your eyes fixed ahead, fingers brushing your ID badge like it was a tether.

He noticed. Of course he did. Dazai was annoying like that, perceptive, in all the wrong ways.

“Cold wind today,” he muttered once, falling into step beside you. “I should've bought a coat.”

“Then bring one next time.”

He blinked, then smiled almost nervously.

“Have I done something?”

“I wouldn't know.”

And then you were gone, ducking into Yosano’s office and shutting the door behind you before he could follow. You didn’t cry. You wouldn’t give yourself permission. Not after realizing your mother might’ve been right for once.

Then, some time later, he stopped lingering.

No more hovering near your desk. No more flicked paperclips and whispered jokes. No more hot coffee on your desk with a sticky note that said ‘not poisoned (probably).’

It hurt. it shouldn’t have, but it did. More than it had any right to. And still, you kept your head up.

You worked harder. You filed everything on time, you even helped Kenji reorganize the records room. You were chipper during meetings, helpful during missions, and entirely made of steel when you passed him in the halls.

If anyone noticed the shift, they didn’t comment.

Maybe Yosano knew. Ranpo definitely did. Maybe Atsushi looked at you with too much softness some days. But no one said anything. Least of all him.

Dazai tried, in his own way. He left candy on your desk once. Not a note, not a smiley face. Just a small, strawberry-wrapped piece, the kind you’d once mentioned to him reminded you of your childhood.

You threw it out. Later, you pulled it out of the trash. Later still, you found yourself staring at it in your drawer for almost an hour.

You hated him.

Except you didn’t.

The others joked.

“You’re getting popular,” Ranpo said once, nudging you with his elbow. “Mr Heartbreak himself looks like a kicked puppy whenever you ignore him.”

“Don’t know what you mean,” you said, eyes on your work.

“Hm.”

He never pushed. But Dazai did. Not with words.

With glances. With hesitations. With the way he stood in the doorway of your office sometimes, just long enough for you to notice, before pretending he’d come for something else.

With the way he waited after missions, just out of reach.

With the way his eyes searched your face like a question he didn’t know how to phrase.

The days are blurred. The pain dulled, but never disappeared.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. You told yourself he was always like that. He flirted. He charmed. He seduced. It meant nothing. It was a game to him, a performance, a way to get through the day.

You told yourself it was better this way. You told yourself you didn’t care. But some nights, when the office was empty and the moonlight pooled silver across your keyboard, you’d think of that smile he gave her. It was etched into your brain, in a way that made you want to crack your skull open so hard it bled.

The warmth in his voice. His hand in hers.

And you’d feel it again, that bitter weight in your chest. That slow, dragging ache that said you had hoped for more.

---

The morning was heavy, overcast — an inch‑thick cloud pressed low over Yokohama. You and Dazai stood side by side at the ADA’s entrance. Briefing had been chaotic: a bomb threat, scattered victims, a risk analysis. Something in the planning had set you on edge. Dazai sensed it, but you refused to meet his eyes. 

At 7:42 a.m., you stepped inside the site alongside Dazai. You were assigned perimeter sweep — find the device, secure civilians, evacuate — while Dazai monitored exits and coordinated with field agents. You ignored him. You walked ahead, shoulders rigid. You were angry — angry at him for hurting you, at yourself for caring, and at Kunikida for pairing you two for this mission.

He caught your arm once during the walk-in. “Hey,” he said quietly. “You okay?” You jerked away and kept moving. He followed behind you gently. You pretended not to know he was there. He blinked at you.

You said, “I said I’m fine.”

He looked away and didn’t argue.

Inside, alarms buzzed. The yellow tape crinkled as civilians backed away. A device sat nestled under a fallen signboard — you could already see the blinking red light. The air smelled of overheated electronics and panic. Dazai crouched next to it, fingers hovering. You watched through the lens of your training, heart locked on the device.

You spoke quietly into your helmet mic: “Bomb is live, prime threat. Evacuate east side. Two minutes.”

You stepped forward to help him set timers, defuse circuits. He gave instructions sharply. You obeyed, begrudgingly. Then, just as you were about to unclip a wire—

BANG!

“Daz—” Kunikida’s voice from the radio cut.

Dust exploded everywhere. You staggered back, ears ringing. Dazai grabbed your arm, and dragged you toward a side exit.

“Wait! There are still people there—”

“It doesn’t matter now. Come with me—”

“No! What is wrong with you—?”

A child was crying. A man collapsed. You stopped.

“Are you crazy? You’ll die if you stay here for long!” Dazai shouted.

“Then go!” You spat. “I’ll do it by myself if I have to.”

The main structural beam cracked. You knew what it meant. You knew what was coming. He stared at the ceiling, breath hitching. You reached for his hand. He froze.

The beam cracked again, louder. Death hung in four tons of concrete.

You had one choice.

You grabbed the crying child and handed her to him. He opened his mouth. You pressed harder. “Go.”

He shook his head as another crack split the air. His voice cracked too: “No—”

You whispered, “Just go, I’ll see if the diffusion was worth it.”

Behind him, the civilians fled, trusted to safety. He looked like his world was fracturing.

You made the final decision. You locked eyes. You said, barely louder than his own quickened breathing, “I love you. Now go.”

He stared at you, mouth open, betrayal and fear. He didn’t move. So you shoved him. Wolfed half into the crowd. His hand slipped from yours. He stumbled. You saw panic in his eyes.

Behind you, a deafening rumble sounded. And your world collapsed.

You were buried in the dark. The beam pinned your leg. Dust choked your lungs. Your arms ached too deeply to move. You squeezed your eyes shut, blood warm behind your ears. Your last thought wasn’t fear, though you tasted it. It was his eyes when you said “I love you.”

A weight lifted. You felt a palm against your cheek. His fingers brushing dust out of your hair.

“Hey,” Dazai whispered. He pulled, stone and torn hands working like they were ripping pieces of earth from your world. Your breath was a broken thing and you coughed. “Y/N,” he repeated. “You passed.”

You blinked. “Passed? Like, passed away?”

He forced out a ragged laugh. “That— that was the test.”

Your stomach lurched. You saw his face, inches away. It was covered with sweat and tears and ash. 

“I didn’t know the test could actually hurt you,” you choked out. “I thought I was done for.”

“If you didn’t, you would never have said what you said, hmm?”

“Shut up,” you gasped. A new weight pressed you down. Dazai froze suddenly, panic racing back. He knelt next to you, hands trembling.

“Y/N,” he whispered. “Hold on. Please. Don’t close your eyes, okay?”

Who were you to listen to a heartbreaker?

---

You woke to the scent of antiseptic and pine.

Light slanted in through the cabin window, filtered by Yosano’s dark lace curtains. You blinked, slow, like you’d just remembered what it meant to be alive. Your limbs felt like they belonged to someone else, but your chest still rose and fell. The breath was a little ragged, but it was yours.

You shifted. A sharp ache bloomed in your ribs. But you were alive. That must have meant something.

Yosano looked up from a clipboard across the room. She was still in her uniform — blood on her sleeves and smudges on her cheek. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, but it was real. “Don’t move too much.”

“What… happened?” Your voice rasped.

“You took a beam to the back like a damn romantic hero. We barely got to you in time. Dazai brought you out. Wouldn’t let anyone else touch you. Carried you all the way here.”

Your chest tightened.

Yosano sat down beside your bed. Her voice softened, uncharacteristically gentle. “I haven’t let him in here yet. He wanted to. But I figured… maybe you’d want space.”

You stared at the ceiling, heart warring with something you didn’t have a name for. He’d carried you?

“It’s okay,” you murmured, after a pause. “Let him in.”

She nodded, stood, and opened the door.

He stepped in like he’d been holding his breath all day. The moment his eyes found yours, they softened, something breaking in him slowly. He looked like hell. His coat was rumpled, shoes scuffed. His hair was unbrushed, as if he’d been pacing too much to bother.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Yosano rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile.

He closed the door behind him, took two steps forward, and stopped. “I thought I’d lost you.”

You swallowed. Your throat ached. “I didn’t mean what I said. When I snapped. I was just…”

He shook his head. “Don’t. You were right. You saw something and I didn’t make it better. I made it worse. I didn’t want you to go without hearing me say it—”

He moved closer, tentative now, like you were something divine and fragile. You blinked. His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing just beneath your eyes.

And then he kissed you. Soft. Like a secret he’d kept for too long. Your hand found his sleeve. Clutched.

But still, that splinter of memory. That woman. Her laughter. His hand around hers.

You pulled back. Just slightly. “I saw you,” you whispered. “That day. With her. Holding her hand.”

He stilled.

Your voice trembled. “I thought — maybe my mother was right. That I was just another game to you.”

Dazai stared at you. Then — without a single word — he sank to his knees. He clasped his hands in front of him like he was praying.

“I’ll stop,” he said. “Flirting. With anyone. With everyone. I’ll stop. Please. Just let me be yours.” You stared down at him. “Let me be your husband someday. Whenever you’re ready.”

You blinked. “Marriage?”

He smiled, crooked. “Yeah. I’ve decided. You’re the one I’d give myself all up for. ”

Your laugh was thin, watery. “My mom hates you.”

His smile turned feline. “Oh, she does, does she?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Dazai.”

He shrugged. “I’ve taken care of it.”

“Taken what—”

“Nothing illegal,” he said quickly. Then added, not quite convincingly, “Probably.” You stared at him. He only grinned wider. “She won’t be bothering you anymore.”

You sank into the pillows, laughter escaping you in a broken puff. “You’re insane.”

He leaned forward, resting his head on your thigh. “Yeah. But you’re stuck with me.”

Your fingers drifted into his hair. You’d never seen him this still.

. . . credit rolls

Jake was the kind of neighboor everyone loved.

The kind who remembers birthdays without being reminded. The kind who waves first, who carries grocery bags inside without being asked, who laughs easily and listens like whatever you're saying actually matters. The older women on the block adore him. The kids follow him around when he's outside fixing his car. Even your mom softened toward him within weeks of him moving in.

He moved here a few months ago, quiet at first, boxes stacked neatly by the door, sleeves rolled up as he assembled furniture by himself. Twenty-four, living alone, polite to a fault. He smiles with his whole face — a boxy grin, puppy eyes, the kind of expression that makes people feel chosen.

You and Jake have talked before. A plenty of times actually. Over the fence while you were hanging laundry. On the sidewalk when he caught you struggling with grocery bags and insisted on carrying them. Once on his porch when you returned the screwdriver he lent your dad. Easy conversations. Comfortable ones. You laugh at his jokes and he teases you gently about how formal you sound when you speak to him.

"You don't have to call me sir." He said once, grinning. You turned bright red at his words, nodding as you avoided his eyes. He'd liked that.

So when your mom hands you a plate of freshly baked pastries and tells you to take some over to Jake, it doesn't feel unusual. It feels neighborly. Familiar. You straightened your back as you pressed the doorbell, afternoon breeze making your skin prickle with goosebumps.

He answers the door in a loose gray hoodie and sweatpants that hang low on his hips, hair slightly messy like he just woke up from a nap. He blinks at you once, then breaks into that soft, unfair smile. "Hey." He says, smiling like he was expecting you. You grinned sweetly, the cuteness making Jake's smile last longer as his eyes stopped on the plate in your hands—offered and tempting.

"Hi! Sorry to disturb you but mom made some and asked me to bring them over to you." You explain, holding out the plate with both hands. Always both hands. Always careful. Your lively and fresh voice lured a chuckle out of him and the way you grinned made his heart light with joy.

"You're too good to me." He says lightly. His fingers brush yours — not accidental, not entirely deliberate either. Just enough to make your breath hitch. "You're always bringing things over. At this point I owe you."

"You don't owe me anything." You reply quickly, sweet as ever. His smile shifts at that, subtly and slower. "Come in for a minute, for a coffe or something. The cookies I'm baking are almost done too." He offers. "At least let me say thank you properly."

You hesitate — but only for a moment. You've been inside before, just briefly. To drop something off. To borrow something.

It's harmless.

Jake is harmless.

He steps aside, letting you walk in first. You slip off your crocs by the door out of habit, lining them neatly against the wall. The click of the door shutting behind you feels louder than it should. The hallways smelled differently, a mix of cocoa and sugar flowed around the space. "It already smells delicious." You comment, straightening up as you glanced at him. He smiled sweetly. "Just wait till you try them."

His house smells different than yours — less floral, more masculine, now with a hint of tasty cookies. There's low music playing from somewhere deeper inside, something mellow and rhythmic. The living room is tidy but lived-in. A couch that looks too comfortable. A coffee table with a few magazines stacked neatly. The balcony door is slightly cracked open, cool air drifting in, stirring the curtains lazily. You hover near the edge of the room, hands clasped in front of you like you're not sure where to put them.

Jake walks past you toward the kitchen, setting the plate down carefully. His movements are relaxed — like he's completely at ease having you here.

"You can sit, you know." He says gently, glancing at you over his shoulder. "Relax." He moved over to the oven, putting on his glove before opening it and taking the hot pan out. The room filled with the smell of cinnamon and tempting sweetness.

"Okay." You murmured to yourself and moved toward the couch. It sinks slightly under your weight when you sit. Too soft. Too intimate somehow. "What would like to drink?!" Jake's voice boomed off from the kitchen paired with the sound of plates bumping. "Just water please!" You answered back, voice high as your eyes moved over the walls filled with decorations and pictures of his family you would presume.

Jake returns with two glasses of water and a plate of freshly baked cookies, he gave one glass over to you as he set down the plate on the table. His fingers brush yours again — slower this time. He doesn't pull away immediately.

"Thanks for always bringing stuff over." He says, quieter now as he took a seat. "You're… really thoughtful." He flashed you a smile. You shrug, eyes dropping. "It's nothing. My mom just loves sharing."

"Yeah." He hums, studying you and letting out a breathy laugh. "Say thank you to your parents too, they are really amazing." You nod with a sweet and generous smile and take a small sip of water just to do something to avoid the any kind of awkwardness.

Your gaze drifts to the coffee table — and that's when you notice it.

A small tin. A lighter beside it.

Your eyes flick up to him instinctively.

He notices, eyes going wide for a second before he calmly reached for it, like he just remembered it was there. "Oh, sorry..." His fingers reached around the tin. "Should've put that away." He doesn't though. Jake smiled, the tin and the lighter in both of his hands as he held them, his elbows on his thighs rolling the tin as he observed it. You smiled tightly, remotely confused but not wanting to ask any questions as he cutely looked at you, a tight lipped adorable smile on his face.

"Ever tried it?" He asks, like he's asking about coffee, just another casual interaction. You blink. "Tried what?"

His mouth curves faintly.

"Weed."

The word lands heavier than you expect. Oh. You shake your head immediately. "No. I m, mean— I've never." The answer is immediate and honest. You shift a little on the couch. "I mean, I've never… been around it." He nods slowly, watching your face carefully.

"You don't look scandalized." He observes, eyebrow knitting together as he chuckled. "I'm not." You say quickly, then falter. "I just didn't know that's what you meant." A small smile tugs at his mouth.

"Thought I was talking about the cookies?* He teases softly, head nudging toward the plate on the table as he lightly laughed. Your cheeks warmed at that, eyes back on the glass in your lap that you were gripping steady. "Maybe". Noticing the way you retracted and the demeanor seemed to slowly turn awkward he added simply.

"It's not a big deal though." He says, slightly shaking his head. "Just makes things feel lighter. Warmer." His eyes meet yours deliberately as you looked back up. "Sometimes a little more intense." Your stomach tightens at the way he says that.

You glance at the balcony door, slightly cracked open, letting fresh air in. The music hums softly in the background. The room feels warm, safe. You glance toward the hallway. Toward the very real front door behind you.

You should probably go home soon. But you don't stand up.

"Does it make you uncomfortable?" He asks after a moment. You think about it. "No." You admit quietly. "I just don't know anything about it." That shifts something in his expression — interest, maybe. "Never been curious?" He asks, eyes narrowing in a questioning manner. You hesitate this time. "…Maybe a little." The honesty surprises even you. Jake's gaze softens, but there's something darker flickering underneath. Not cruel, just aware. "Curiosity's not a bad thing." He says.

You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, trying to calm your nerves. You wet your lips nervously, eyes flicking to the tin in his hands. "What does it feel like?" You ask, barely above a whisper. His eyes darken just a fraction. "Well." He says slowly, setting the tin down on the table but leaning back onto the armrest of the couch right by his side. "That depends."

"On what?" You ask, trying to sound steadier than you feel. "On the person." His gaze drifts over your face, unhurried. "Some people get giggly. Some get sleepy. Some…" He pauses, thumb brushing over the edge of the tin absentmindedly. "Feel everything more." Your fingers tighten around your glass. "More?" You echo back, waiting for the elaboration. The curiosity now eating you alive. "Touch. Sound. Breathing." His eyes lift to yours again. "It's like the volume's turned up." The music in the background suddenly feels louder. You swallow eyes flicking back to your glass. He notices every little reaction. The way your shoulders pull in. The way your thighs press together when he says touch. Jake but his lip to stop a grin from showing on his face. eyes going over the neat small table. "But…" You start, curiosity tugging at you despite yourself. "Is it bad?"

Jake lets out a quiet laugh. "It's not some scary gateway drug, sweetheart." The nickname slips out so naturally you almost miss it. Almost. "It's just a little high." He says it so easily. Your eyes drift to the balcony door again, the curtain shifting with the breeze. The world outside looks the same as it always does — quiet street, trimmed hedges, nothing scandalous about it.

Inside feels different.

"Have you done it a lot?" You ask, Jake nods once, settling back against the couch, legs spread comfortably, completely at ease. "A few times." Jake could not stop his gaze from drifting to your lap, the way you were clenching the glass, the way your shorts was riding up your thighs, exposing more than necessary without you noticing. Your shallow breathing still somehow steady even if he could see the nerves were pooling in you. His gaze lingers — not subtle now. Watching you. Studying the way your chest rises, the way your lips part slightly when you think too hard.

Silence stretches.

You glance at the tin again then back at him. "So you just… smoke it?" You ask, almost shy. Jake's brows lift slightly. "You're asking a lot of questions for someone who's not interested." He adds, tone light. Your cheeks warm. "I didn't say I wasn't interested."

That makes him pause. He wasn't expecting that. "Oh?" A small smile pulls at his mouth. "So you are?" Your pulse jumps. You hesitate just for a second.

Maybe it's the way he's looking at you. Maybe it's the way the room feels heavier. Maybe it's the fact that you're eighteen and tired of always being the careful one.

"…Maybe." You say, softer. He leans back slightly, studying you in a way that makes your stomach flip. "You wanna try?" He asks, more direct now. Your fingers curl into your shorts for a second before you force them to relax.

"I mean—" You start, nerves tangling your words. "I just… I want to know what it feels like." There's something almost shy about it, not rebellious or reckless, just honest. Jake's expression shifts — not darker, not predatory. Just surprised. Heat rises to your cheeks as you set the glass down carefully on the table, mostly because your hands are starting to betray you.

Silence settles between you again, humming but almost loud. He reaches for the tin again, but doesn't open it yet, just rests his fingers on top of it. "You sure?" He asks, voice lowering and teasing now. "Didn't think you were the rebellious type." You straighten a little at that. "I'm not." You defend quickly.

He hums, unconvinced. "Then what are you?"

You falter. "I just… want to know what it's like." The same words were repeated from earlier, eyes up to meet his. His gaze flickers to your lips, then back to your eyes.

"Curious girls get into trouble." He says lightly. Your breath hitches at his words, a heat crawling up your spine that made you stiffen. "But..." He adds after a beat, softer now. "Only if they want to." Your heart is pounding so loud you're sure he can hear it.

"I want to." You say — quieter than you meant to, but steady. Jake studies you carefully, t there's no rush in him. No impatience. Just control. "You don't have to impress me." He murmurs. "And you don't have to say yes just because you're curious."

"I'm not saying yes because of that." You reply, lifting your chin slightly. "I'm saying yes because I want to try." A slow smile spreads across his face — this time he doesn't hide it. "Alright." He says and opens the tin. The faint earthy scent drifts into the air, mixing with the sweetness of cookies and the cool breeze from the balcony. He doesn't rush. He moves with practiced ease, but there's something deliberate about how unhurried he is. Like he knows you're watching.

Jake prepares it slowly, not looking nervous. Completely composed. He glances up at you while he works, rolling the paper between his fingers, spreading the herbs evenly. "Last chance." He teases gently, bringing up the small soon to be blunt to his smirking lips, letting his tongue wet the end. "Still sure, sweetie?" You watched with attentiveness what he is doing and the way he looked at you as he licked the paper, eyes mischief and teasing, lips curved — it made your breath hitch.

"Yes." You say, eyes flicking to his own. This time, there's no hesitation. Jake leans over to grab the lighter. "Okay." He murmurs and holds your gaze a second longer before bringing the freshly rolled blunt to his lips. The teasing curve of his mouth lingers as he lights it, the small flame briefly illuminating his features.

He inhales slowly, deliberately — not breaking eye contact.

You watch the way his chest rises. The way his shoulders relax as he pulls the smoke in. The way he tilts his head slightly, holding it for a moment before exhaling toward the open balcony door. The smoke drifts lazily into the air, curling in the warm light.

He looks… completely at ease.

"Okay. " He murmurs, voice just a touch lower now. "Come here." You hesitate only a second before shifting closer on the couch. Not enough to touch him fully — but close enough that your knees almost brush. He notices that too. "You ever smoked anything before?" He asks lightly.

You shake your head. "Alright." His tone softens, more instructive now, less teasing. "Don't overthink it. Just breathe in slow. Not too hard." He brings it toward you but doesn't let go yet. "Here." H says quietly. "Hold it like this."

His fingers guide yours — warm, steady — adjusting how you grip it. The contact is brief but deliberate enough to make your pulse skip. "Relax your shoulders." He adds. You didn't realize they were tense. He lifts it slightly toward your lips. "Slow breath. Just a little." Your heart is pounding. You lean forward carefully, inhaling like he told you to.

It's harsher than you expected. You cough almost immediately. Jake laughs softly, not mocking, just amused and sets the blunt aside for a second. "Easy." He murmurs, his hand coming to rest lightly between your shoulder blades. "Told you not to pull too hard." Your eyes water slightly as you try to recover, embarrassed.

"I did exactly what you said." You mumble. "I know." He smiles, thumb brushing once, absentmindedly, against your back before pulling his hand away. "First time's always like that." You glance at him, trying to gauge whether he's teasing again. He isn't. Not fully.

"Try again." He says gently. "Smaller this time." You nod, still a little flustered. He hands it back to you, watching closely. This time you inhale more carefully — slower, controlled. It's still unfamiliar, but you don't cough. "Good. " He says quietly. The praise lands somewhere warm in your chest. You hand it back to him without realizing how close you've leaned in. He takes another slow pull, then passes it back.

The exchange becomes easier the second time. Less awkward as the high started creeping in, light and still not fully there. You shift slightly on the couch. Jake studies you. "How do you feel?" He asks. You blink, trying to focus on the question. "Warm." You admit after a moment. "Kind of… floaty?" A small, satisfied smile curves his lips. "Yeah..." he says. "That's normal."

Your limbs feel heavier, but not unpleasant. The room seems softer somehow. The air thicker. Your gaze drifts to his face — and stays there longer than it usually would. He notices. "You're staring," he says lightly. You don't look away this time. "Everything does feel louder." You murmur, almost to yourself. His eyes darken slightly at that. "Yeah?" He asks, bringing the blunt up to his lips, still not high. He inhaled, eyes stuck to your lidded eyes, the way they moved over the room as you leaned back against the couch.

"If you don't feel well you need to tell me." He spoke as the herbal smoke escaped his parted lips, the high getting to his head gradually. His head felt slightly lighter, back meeting the couch rest bringing the ashtray between your two. Your attention moved back to him, vision fuzzy at the edges as your gaze moved to his hand on his thigh. The blunt burning between his long slender fingers and smoke curling in the air.

Before you knew it, you reached for it — fingers eagerly and clumsily taking the burning rolled paper. "Woah, easy." He smiled at that, a lighthearted laugh escaping him, fingers trying to steadily transfer the burning blunt to you. Jake felt like he was floating, eyes slowly turning red and eyelids dropping. His face felt relaxed, the smile on his face heavy.

He watched you inhale it, slow and steady, eager for the lightness that was flooding your senses. And just like that the room was already full of thick, swirling smoke, the air hazy around the soft glow of the lamp. Your head buzzed almost immediately.

Not dizzy — just… warmer.

Soft.

The edges of everything felt slightly blurred, like the world had been turned down a notch and wrapped in velvet. When you exhaled, the smoke drifted slowly between the two of you, curling lazily toward the ceiling. Jake leaned back into the couch, watching you with a slow grin. "Careful." He murmured. "You went in pretty confident for someone who said they've barely done this."

You coughed once still getting used to the feeling, waving a hand through the smoke, laughing a little breathlessly. "Okay, maybe I underestimated it."

"Just a little?" He teased.

You handed the blunt back, your fingers brushing his for a second longer than necessary. The contact felt strangely noticeable, like your skin had suddenly become aware of everything. Jake took another drag, shoulders sinking into the couch as he exhaled slowly. His eyes were half-lidded now, a faint redness spreading through them. He looked relaxed in a way that made everything about him seem slower, easier.

The music hummed quietly in the background.

Time started slipping. At some point you both stopped keeping track of how long you’d been sitting there.

The blunt had burned down to nothing in the ashtray, and the room smelled faintly sweet and smoky. The high had settled in completely now — heavy, warm, almost weightless.

You had shifted positions without even realizing it.

Now you were sitting sideways on the couch, your legs pulled up comfortably beneath you, one knee tucked under the other as you leaned into the cushions. Your hair had fallen loosely around your face, and every now and then you pushed it back while laughing. Jake sat beside you, one arm draped along the back of the couch, his posture relaxed and easy.

The two of you had drifted into the kind of random conversation that only happened when you were high. "…No way." You said through a laugh, shaking your head. "You're telling me you actually tried to microwave ramen in a coffee maker?"

"It worked." Jake insisted lazily. You laughed again, the sound light and loose. "It absolutely did not work."

"It worked enough." He said, grinning. "You would be surprised what you can do when you're desperate and it's two in the morning." The laughter faded into a comfortable quiet. Jake huffed out a breath, a hand coming up to his hoodie collar, tugging at it. The air felt too suffocating and warm, the breeze from the open door not doing much. "It's hot in here..." He murmured to himself, hands already taking the grey thick fabric off him. He run a hand through his hair, taming it just a tab bit before he straightened the white shirt that he is left in.

Jake placed the hoodie neatly on the arm rest, feeling the sudden relief. You on the other hand were stuck in place, gaze following his every movement. Too lost. Too high. So fixed on his figure that the way his shirt went up exposing his lower abdomen as he took the hoodie off is left engraved. The way his hand ran through the messy hair, trying to subdue the disheveled strands made you almost evidently gulp.

Jake was attractive. That was no secret. From the way the older ladies in the neighborhood treated him, from the way younger kids always stop and stare at him a second too long before getting shy. Even older men never missed a chance to start a conversation with him, always trying to make sure he knew they had daughters who are single by the end of their conversations.

But he was always sweet, a little too kind and cute. Laughing everything off, nodding shyly and just simply being respectful. And that's what people liked about him. That's what made everyone adore him.

You on the other hand, did think so too. He was just every girls dream. Hot, handsome, living alone at just twenty-four, hardworking. Could you ask for something more, really? But the age. The age was something that really made you step back into your lane. The reality crushing down everytime you were stuck staring at him over your fence, images flashing through your mind.

Your family did tease you, all the way to your younger brother. Making jokes about you and him being together, how he is a great a catch. And it was annoying. It was agonizingly annoying hearing the overused plethoras of these words. You would only roll your eyes and just simply say he was too old for you. He could almost be your uncle. Really.

But still there was no denying. He was awfully, excruciatingly sexy.

Jake leaned forward, reaching toward the coffee table where a plate of cookies sat forgotten. His hand came into the warm light of the lamp as he grabbed one. You watched his fingers without realizing it.

Long fingers.

Veins running along the back of his hand and wrist. The movement was slow and unhurried as he brought the cookie up and took a bite. You blinked, gaze stuck to the way the silver bracelet hugged his wrist, dangling from his arm. Your brain felt like it lagged half a second behind what your eyes were seeing.

Jake chewed casually, completely unaware of the small spiral of thoughts that had suddenly started in your head. The low music flowed in the background, his head light and face smiley as he grabbed his phone from the table after it buzzed. A group chat spammed with random messages a she opened the chat eyes skimming over the unrelevant chats. He took another bite of the cookie, chewing lazily, his jaw feeling a little too heavy with each bite. Your eyes were still stuck to his face, his side profile as the bright phone screen illuminated his sharp but still soft features. He looked perfect.

But suddenly, he glanced at you, lidded eyes meeting yours just for a second before they were back on the phone. You almost evidently jolted at the sudden eye contact, the way he catches you staring but said nothing. You cleared your throat. "So... Is it hard to work from home?" A random question about his graphic designing. Just to ease the sudden tenseness you felt even if your body surrendered to the relaxation a long time ago.

He smiled, not looking up at you, fingers working over his keyboard as he typed a response to his friends. "Well actually no..." He answered, eyes still on the phone. "I get to manage my time on my own, clients are the only thing the company assigns me but yeah..." He glanced at you, taking the last bite of the cookie as he still typed away on the phone. Your eyes drifted all over him again — not just his hands this time, but the relaxed way he was leaning on his thighs, veiny forearms supporting him, the lazy curve of his smile, the faint redness in his eyes.

Everything about him looked softer. Slower.

Your curiosity bubbled up again, the same one that had been creeping around your thoughts for the past hour. Before you could overthink it, the question slipped out. "Jake?"

"Yeah?" He said, brushing crumbs from his fingers. You hesitated for a moment, suddenly aware of how random it might sound. "Are you… seeing someone?" He looked at you, not surprised just curious. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. His eyes lingered on your face a little longer than usual, flicking down your figure before he answered.

"Why?" He asked lightly. "You doing a background check on me?" You laughed nervously and shook your head. "No. I was just… wondering." Wondering because you never saw him bring any women over. Because the only people that ever visited him were his parents now and then and his group of friends.

His eyes locked onto yours, something dark and tempting behind them before he answered. "No. Not right now." His phone buzzed, eyes glued themselves to the screen again. "I broke up with my ex right before I moved here. Had some flings here and there but nothing serious." His voice was flat, too immersed into the small bright box in his hands. You nodded, more to yourself as you glanced onto the small table. You rubbed your calve up and down, the sudden quiet that took place was awkward. Before...

"What about you?"

His voice made you snap your head toward him. Jake finally locked his phone and set it down on the table. The small screen went dark as he leaned back into the couch, stretching one arm along the backrest. His attention shifted completely to you now, heavy-lidded eyes studying your face with a calm, curious focus. The sudden attention made your stomach tighten.

"Me?" You repeated quietly. "Yeah." He shrugged a little, relaxed. "You asked first." You looked down at your hands, suddenly very aware of them resting awkwardly on your knee. The high was still humming through your body, soft and warm, but now it made you feel strangely exposed under his gaze. "I'm… not seeing anyone either." You said.

Jake hummed softly, watching you. "No boyfriend?" You shook your head. "Not really." His eyebrow lifted slightly. "Not really?" You hesitated, feeling heat creep up your neck. "There was...someone I liked." You admitted, feeling like a little kid at the simple talk of childish crushes to a grown man. "In school. We still have some classes together." Jake tilted his head, watching you carefully now.

"But it wasn't anything serious." You added quickly. "We just talked a lot. Sat together sometimes. I thought maybe he liked me too but…" You gave a small embarrassed shrug. "Nothing ever actually happened."

Jake's eyes stayed on you. "That's it?" He asked slowly. You nodded. "Yeah."

He leaned back further into the couch, hands resting on his thighs while he slammed down the leather. His gaze drifted down for a moment — over the way you were curled on the couch, your legs tucked beneath you, the nervous motion of your fingers rubbing along your calf. "You're eighteen, right?" He asked.

"Yeah." A quiet breath left him. "Huh."

You glanced up, scanning his side profile as his head was leaned back onto the couch, tired and red eyes staring at the ceiling.

"What?" Your voice was quiet and unsure. Embarrased. He shook his head slightly, a faint, almost amused smile tugging at his mouth.

"Nothing." He said. "Just… surprising."

"Why?" You gulped, eyes unconsciously running over his hand in his lap, his spread thighs and the way the sweatpants hugged his pelvis. The bulge that was right there making you gulp, you thighs pressing slightly. Jake's eyes returned to yours, darker now in the dim light making your eyes flick up to his.

"I don't know." He said slowly. "Most people your age have a little more… going on."

Your cheeks warmed instantly.

"I guess I'm just… slow with that stuff." You murmured. He didn't answer right away. His gaze drifted over you again, slower this time — the high making his focus heavier, more lingering than he probably meant it to be. The way you were sitting curled up on the couch, your shorts shifting slightly over your thighs as you adjusted your legs. The nervous movement of your hands. The faint pink in your cheeks. You shifted under the attention without meaning to. Your knee moved slightly, your foot sliding against the cushion as if you were trying to get comfortable, but it only made you more aware of how closely he was watching.

Jake noticed. His jaw tightened just slightly before he looked back at your face. There was something very unguarded about you.

He cleared his throat lightly. "Well." He said, voice casual again. "You're eighteen. That's the perfect age to enjoy it."

"Enjoy what?" You asked, confused.

"Life." He said simply. "Meeting people. Dating. Figuring out what you like." His eyes flicked back to your face, then down briefly again before returning. "You should enjoy that stage." You shifted slightly on the couch, suddenly very aware of how you were sitting and the way his eyes went over your body. And you hated the way the unfamiliar warmth started burning in the low of your stomach.

"I guess." You said quietly. Unsure. Eyes

Jake watched you for another moment, something thoughtful settling in his expression. He raised his head from the cozy couch. "Can I ask you something?" He said. Your shoulders tensed slightly, eyes flicking to his intimidating gaze. You nodded, not finding the courage to use your words since the high was at its peak, hitting your head with a force so invisible but still present. Your head felt heavy, eyes were burning red and lidded. Your limbs felt heavy, everything seemed to turn up a notch. His presence seemed to overwhelm you more, the masculine aura making you trace his figure shamelessly.

His voice stayed casual, but his eyes stayed fixed on you. "Have you ever… done anything with someone?" The question hung in the air.Your brain understood what he meant almost instantly, rimmed red eyes moving up to his own as you licked your lips.

"No." You said quickly. Jake blinked. "No?"

You shook your head as you let it fall on the couch, eyes still stuck to his.

"No."

He leaned back slightly, studying you more carefully now and still trying to process everything. "You mean… like nothing?" He asked. You shifted again, embarrassment evaporating the more the weed in your system flowed. "I mean… no." You said quietly. "Not really."

For a moment he just stared at you. His eyes flicked over you again — slower this time. Not in an obvious way, but enough that the high made him notice things he hadn't earlier. The way your neck streched as you gazed at him, the way you kept carresing your calf, eyes a little too lost on him.

He never failed to noticed your eyes flicking down to his sweats, where the bulge of his soft cock portruded. It made him shift his hips against the couch, the sudden rush of blood to his pelvis alarming him. He teared his gaze from you, quickly dancing around the small table. "That's okay. You are still young, there's time for everything even if you take it slow."

He added, trying to ease the tension that seemed to suffocate the air. He tried to erase the image of you, in ways he should never think of. Not when you are that younger than him, still in high school. Not when you are the daughter of the neighbors right next door.

But fuck, did actually exactly those things get him going.

He could still feel your eyes on him as he reached forward, grabbing the glass of water before he took a sip. He needed to cool off. Immediately. His cock threatening to evidently form a tent inside his briefs. The cold water did almost nothing.

The room still felt thick — smoke hanging lazily in the warm air, music humming quietly from somewhere behind you both. His pulse hadn't slowed either. Jake set the glass down again and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to shake the thoughts out of his head.

You were still watching him.

Curled into the couch with your legs tucked under you, head tilted slightly, eyes heavy and red-rimmed from the high. The way you looked at him now wasn't the same as earlier. There was curiosity there, yes — but something else too. Something softer. Bolder.

It made his stomach tighten.

Your fingers traced slowly along your calf again, absentminded, and the movement pulled his eyes down before he could stop himself. You noticed that too. A quiet little spark lit in your chest. The weed had melted most of your nervousness away, leaving behind something warm and daring that you normally wouldn't let yourself feel.

"You said I should enjoy being eighteen." You said softly. Jake glanced up at you again.

"Yeah..." He said cautiously and your head tilted slightly. "What if I want to start doing that now?"

The question made him pause. His eyes searched your face like he was trying to figure out if you even realized what you were implying. His elbows dug harder into his knees, eyes stuck on you. You shifted closer on the couch without really thinking about it.

The cushion dipped slightly between you.Your gaze dropped for a moment, then slowly lifted again, tracing his face. His jaw, his mouth, the faint tension in his shoulders. "You look different when you're high." You said quietly. "Oh yeah?" Jake asked, eyebrow raising. You hummed in response, the sound a little too low and sensual. "Your eyes get heavier."

He smirked faintly. "That's the weed."

"And you look at me more." You added. That made him go still. The silence stretched between you again. Then, almost without thinking, you leaned forward slightly, just enough to close some of the space between you.

Jake's breath slowed.

"You shouldn't be doing this." He said quietly, still leaned onto his knees, eyes flicking to your mouth and knees that were on the edge of the couch. But he didn't move away. Your heart was beating so loudly you were sure he could hear it. But the warmth of the high and the pull of his gaze made it impossible to back down now. "Doing what?" Ypu whispered. Jake looked at you like he already knew exactly where this was going. Your eyes flicked to his mouth, then back to his eyes. The moment stretched.

One second. Two.

Your courage wavered for just a moment — but then you leaned forward the rest of the way and pressed your lips softly against his. It was clumsy, gentle. And very, very brief.

When you pulled back, your face was flushed but your eyes were still on him. For a second Jake didn't move at all. Then he exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face. "Y/N..." He muttered under his breath. His eyes returned to yours again, darker now.

"You just said you've never done anything with anyone..." He said. Your shoulders lifted slightly in a shy little shrug. "I haven't." A small smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. "Until now."

Jake stared at you. Something about the way you said it, innocent but bold at the same time, made the tension in the room snap tighter instead of breaking. You leaned a little closer again, your knee brushing his thigh this time, placing a hand on his shoulder. Jake's eyes glanced down your bare legs, shorts lost under the shirt.

Fuck it.

He pressed his lips against yours,head tilting as he let out a low moan. You were taken aback, the sudden harshness of his lips making you panic for a second.

You didn't know how to kiss.

"Relax, let me take the lead and just copy me." He pulled back just enough to speak before his lips were again onto yours. His hand found your waist, slowing down his lips and letting your get used to the feel. "Just like that." He pulled back again, breath brushing your wet lips before you pressed them again. Jakes back met the cushion of the couchrest, adjusting his hips against the sofa. You were on your knees kissing him eagerly as you got your pace on. The smacks and smooches of your hungry mouth were fueling. You moaned against his mouth, the ache between your legs becoming unbearable.

Jake still had you by his side, one hand around your waist as he angled his head up, chin tipping to meet your mouth that hovered over his. Your kisses were clumsy but eager now, lips soft and warm against his. Each time you leaned down, trying to follow the rhythm he had shown you moments ago, Jake answered with a slower, deeper kiss that made your stomach tighten. The quiet sounds of it — soft breaths, the brush of lips, the faint smacks as you tried to keep up filled the small space between you.

You pulled back just enough to breathe, chest rising quickly, your lips slightly swollen and damp. Jake's hand tightened a little at your waist as he looked up at you. His eyes lingered on your face first — the flush spreading across your cheeks, the way your lips stayed parted as you caught your breath — before they drifted lower for a second, taking in the way you were kneeling beside him on the couch, your legs tucked beneath you. "Easy…" He murmured, voice low and rough, though he didn't push you away.

His thumb brushed slowly along your side through the thin fabric of your shirt, and the simple touch made you shiver. Jake noticed the reaction immediately. His gaze sharpened slightly, a darker curiosity settling in as he leaned his head back against the couch cushion, still looking up at you. "You're really new to this, aren't you?" He said quietly, his hot breath brushing your face. You hesitated for a moment, fingers still curled loosely into the fabric of his shirt, then nodded. The admission made your cheeks warm again, but the haze of the high softened the embarrassment, leaving only a nervous flutter in your chest.

Jake let out a slow breath through his nose. His eyes dropped briefly, following the line of your legs, the way the oversized shirt you wore had shifted while you moved, barely hiding the shorts underneath. When his gaze lifted again, it settled back on your face.

"Have you ever touched yourself?" He asked quietly, voice dark and sharp. The question sent a sudden wave of heat through you. Your eyes dropped almost instantly, landing somewhere near the collar of his shirt. You shook your head slowly, the movement small and shy.

"No." You murmured. Jake went very still beneath you. For a moment he simply stared, his expression caught somewhere between surprise and disbelief. Then he leaned his head back against the couch and dragged a hand slowly down his face.

"Fuck…" He muttered under his breath, his cock throbbing violently with each passing second. When his hand fell away, he looked at you again — longer this time, his gaze lingering over your flushed face, the way you were still kneeling beside him, your hand resting uncertainly on his shoulder as he held your waist.

"You're serious." He said quietly, voice strained as if he is afraid what your honest answer would do him. Because he was certain you weren't lying.

You nodded again, glancing down at your hands as they fidgeted lightly with the fabric of his shirt. And his body experienced a sudden rush of adrenaline, his shoulders almost evidently shuddered under your hand as he closed his eyes. "I just… never really thought about it." You admitted softly.

Jake opened his heavy red eyes staring at you for a moment, jaw tightening just slightly. Something about the way you said it, so honest and unaware, made him exhale slowly. He looked divine. Pretty even. His dark slightly longer hair falling over his eyes. His red cheeks and plump swollen lips. It made you bite your lip. And your eyes flicked down. Down to his tent that hardened with every passing minute he spent by your side.

"God…" He murmured again, almost to himself when he captured everything. And he crashed your lips again, pulling you so hard you feel onto his side, one hand clutching his shoulder and the other fisting the shirt at his chest. He moaned against you, your lips a drug that he couldnt get enough off. And the way you were struggling to catch up with him made his hips raise, thrusting into the air from the desperation.

"Take your shorts and panties off. Now." He sternly spoke against your lips. "And sit back and spread your legs for me." You nodded, trying to collect yourself from his savage kisses just a second ago. Quickly you straightened yourself, hands hastily unzipping your shorts before pulling it down your legs together with your underwear. Jake watched every move, the way the short glided down your legs and you threw it down, the way you moved back, pushing yourself away before you slowly but certainly spread your legs.

And Jake's throat constricted, a sharp inhale as he took in your form.

You were leaned back, supporting yourself by your arms against the couch, legs bent at your knees as you shyly pulled them apart. Jake's eyes sucked everything in but saw the little hesitation. "Don't be shy..." He said softly, eyes flicking up to yours giving you a nod, a connection you needed in this moment.

The mere look of his puppy eyes, giving you reassurance was enough. And you spread them further, knees closer to you, feet planting onto the cushion. He was stunned, another sharp inhale followed. His eyes danced over your thighs before it reached the center. His gaze went over your pubic hair, over your drooling lips that spilled the sticky essence onto the hairy lips.

His dick twitched.

"Shit." He muttered to himself, lips slightly parting as he let his head back onto the couch. You stood there, spread open for his eyes, observing the way he ate you with his stare. The way his chest moved deeper, Adam's apple bobbing as he gulped. Jake's hand moved down, resting onto his bulge, palm feeling the heaviness and the sensitivity over the fabric. But he just let it rest there, eyes glued to your drooling pussy and the sticky bush.

Already this wet, just from kissing. Of course you are.

Fucking virgin.

"Jake..." You called out to him, eyes searching for his. His eyes flicked up to yours. The worried expression on your face had him inhaling. "Touch yourself." He spoke firmly.

"I—I don't kno—"

"Bring your fingers over to your lips." He cut you off, hungry and rough. His chest heavied, following your unsure moves. You hesitantly brought your hand down, fingers hovering uncertainly in the air for a moment before you slowly followed his instruction. "Find your clit." His voice vibrated in the tight air, your eyes moved down to your mound, the hair rough against your fingertips as you slid them between your folds. Arousal coated them right away, the warmth of your folds swallowing the fingertips too much. You hissed at the new feeling.

"Higher..." You moved them back, higher, and when you found the small bud you — pressed it. A moan escaped you, eyes going tight shut at the new overwhelming sensation. Jake didn't look away.

His eyes followed every small movement you made, heavy and fixed on you as if he didn't want to miss a single second of it. The earlier teasing had faded from his face, replaced with something more focused — something darker and intent. The hand resting over the front of his sweats stayed there, fingers flexing slightly against the fabric as he watched. "That's it... Rub it in circles. Slow." He breathes out, his senses narrowing down to just feeling and the image of you spread by his side.

Your breathing had already grown shallow, chest rising and falling quicker than before as the warmth between your legs pulsed in quiet waves. Your fingers moved cautiously, almost timidly at first, a pant left your parted lips. You glanced up at him again, searching his face for reassurance. His gaze, immediately lifted to meet yours, and the intensity of it made your stomach twist.

"That's it." He said softly, nodding once. "Just… like that."

The simple encouragement steadied you. Your shoulders relaxed a fraction, though your cheeks were still flushed and your breathing uneven. You dragged your finger over the pulsing bud with steady rhythm, the arousal burning tight. You watched the way your arousal spread the more you rubbed, coating your hair, feeling it ooze out of your entrance sliding down your asscheeks and right onto the Jake's couch. You were so wet.

The feeling was strange. Strange but taunting, pulling your fingers to move on their own as you slightly sped up. A moan escaped you, the ticklish pleasure shooting up your spine as you teased yourself.

The moment felt strangely suspended — the low music somewhere behind you, the lingering haze in the room, and Jake watching you like nothing else existed.

He leaned his head back slightly against the couch again, eyes never leaving you. A quiet curse slipped under his breath when you shifted your legs a little wider without thinking, trying to follow the feeling growing in your body. He couldn’t contain himself anymore, his hand dipped into the waistbands, entering the confiments of his boxers. His raging cock already painfully hard. Throbbing and begging for a touch, for the fist of his hand.

His fingers wrapped around himself, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. "You see?" He murmured. "You're already figuring it out, doll."

The nickname rolled of his tongue so easily and so usual for him. But for you — it sent you shuddering. Body reacting on its own as your hole clenched around nothing. His gaze catches that, his hand already moving up and down his pulsing length, coating it with his warm precum. "Am I doing it right?" You asked quietly, voice breathy and needy as your fingers kept their pace, rubbing your clit desperately.

Jake let out a slow breath through his nose, his jaw tightening for a moment before he answered, hand sqeezing his tip for a brief moment. So hungry for praise aren't you. "So so right sweetie. Fuck—" His voice broke off into a strained breath as he watched you. The sight by him had something dark flashing through his eyes, his chest rising deeper as watched the way your folds engulfed your fingertips, the way your arousal stuck to your hair.

Your fingers kept moving, the strange but growing warmth between your legs making you shift on the couch, hips chasing your own fingers. Another small sound escaped you, half surprise, half something deeper you didn't quite understand yet. The feeling was different now — sharper, more insistent.

Jake watched the change in your expression immediately. You are pushing yourself close to the orgasm.His hand stilled for a moment before moving again, slower now, gliding deliberately against his cock, eyes locked on your face as if he were reading every reaction.

"You feel that?" He asked quietly, hand sticky and slimy as it moved under his briefs.

You nodded quickly, breath hitching and eyes moving over to his sweats. The evident move of his hand against his length made you grind your hips again.

"It's… weird." You admitted softly, barely uttering it out as your fingers slowed down again. "But… good."

He huffed out a faint laugh under his breath, shaking his head slightly. "Yeah..." His lidded eyes flicked down to the mess you made. Your hand faltered for a moment, your brows knitting together as you tried to understand the new sensations building. Jake noticed instantly. "Stop."

You didn't, you closed your eyes, a moan slipping. "I-I can't! Ah..." You cried out, fingers putting more pressure with each tight circle. "I said stop." He repeated, and this time you did. With a whine you made your fingers stop. Your felt the arousal all over your hand, sticky and messy as it covered your fingers. New fluid and texture making you slightly spread them, feeling the arousal stretch and snap.

You panted, a thin layer of sweat covering your skin. Jake's hand moved slowly up and down his cock prolonging the pleasure. Here and now delivering a squeeze to his tip that made him hiss and gasp. "Put a finger inside." He commanded sternly. And you did. Your middle finger dug into your puffy folds, making you gasp as you moved it down. Lower. Until you felt the dip of your entrance under the fingertip. You gulped, head dizzy and already light from all the smoke in the room. Your heat burned with desire, and when hesitation rose in you, fear, you still pushed the finger.

You groaned at the sudden stretch, pushing until the first knuckle. Just first. It glided with ease. But all of a sudden it felt like your walls did not want to let you move deeper. You moaned, shallowly thrusting nonstop. At an attempt to relax, to push through. But you just couldn't. Was it the tense walls, or perhaps the unconscious that was anxious about registering the new experience.

"Jake—" You tried again to push further. It hurt. "Jake I can't..." You were a moaning mess, thrusting barely the tip of your finger inside your pulsing heat. Your hips raised, tried to swallow your finger but still nothing. Jake was too busy fucking his fist slowly and sensually, moans escaping his parted lips as he was in his own world, eyes stuck to the way you tried to fuck your hand.

"You can't what?" He spoke low and strained. Voice whiny as he felt his mess spread and spread under the fabric as he was tugging at his length. "I—I need you!" You whined out, the tip of your finger teasing your clenched hole with shallow thrusts. Your thighs quievered, head tipping back as you couldn't take it — the overwhelming want to feel something against your walls, everything but your own fingers.

For a moment Jake just stared at you. Then he cursed quietly under his breath, dragging his free hand over his face before leaning his head against the couch, facing the ceiling. "Jesus…" His gaze swept over you again, slower this time, heavier, stopping a second longer on your attempts to push the finger inside. "You're going to drive me insane." He muttered, hand stopping all the movement on his cock but is resting at the base. Knowing he would need it again.

You shifted uncertainly under his stare, clearly not sure what he wanted from you, lips parted as the shallow thrusts slowed down. Jake watched you struggle for another second before he finally gestured sharply with his hand.

"Come here."

The command made your head snap up. You moved without thinking, sliding across the couch toward him until you were within reach again, your breathing still uneven. You let your arms support you, leaning back against them as your legs hesitated to spread, not knowing what to do. His free hand grazed your calf. "Spread them, princess."

You almost moaned out at the nickname, your jaw going slack as you spread your legs again eyes scanning him hungrily. One ended up on his knee, as the other was tucked right by his side and the couch. "Shirt off." Your hands automatically grabbed the hem of your baggy old shirt, pulling it over your head as you threw it on the floor, leaving you in your bra.

Jake's eyes scanned your naked upper body. Eyes nestling onto your breasts. Breasts covered by your bra. He bit his lip, eyes traveling all over you decollete as his hand went over your pulsing pussy and up your stomach. Fingers grazing the hot skin before he cupped one of your breasts. You stared at his expressions, noting down every slight change. His brows furrowed, palm sqeezing it harshly and roughly making you gasp. Your chest pushing out, arching into the touch. He kneaded it, eyes stuck to the flesh that threatened to spill from the firm cup. "Yes, fuck..." He moaned under his breath, hand in his underwear sqeezing the base of his cock, imaging the way it would feel if he fucked your tits. The warm, squishy flesh engulfing his leaking dick, letting it glide all over your chest.

He let out a hiss after one more squeeze around his girth. You let out a whine, hips raising from the couch, in search of something. Jake's eyes were still fixed on your chest as he kneaded until his fingers hooked into the bra cup — pulling it down and letting your tit spill out.

You moaned, eyes moving down to look at your naked exposed breast. Nipple stood hard and erect, sensitive to the air itself. Jake's hand was quick to flick it with his thumb, balancing it over the peak as he teased it. "Ah—yes please!" You moaned out, eyes never leaving the way he rolled your sensitive bud.

Jake finally let go of your nipple, hand moving over to his lips eyes stuck to yours. And he let his mouth engulfed two of his long digits. He sucked them delightfully, tongue going over them as he hollowed his cheeks, thrusting them in and out. Your breath hitched, muscles already trembling and aching. He coated them expertly with his spit, pulling them out and letting them glide out from his plump lips. They glistened under the lights. He spat on them, making sure they are wet and warm before he finally lowered them between your legs. To your most sensitive skin.

You felt the back of his middle finger caress your puffy slit, going up and down collecting the arousal that never seemed to stop coming. You bucked into his hand, a sharp inhale followed. Jake's eyes danced over your pulsing and hairy heat, and it made him hiss. Especially when he grazed your rough hairs, the sudden contrast to your soft and sensitive folds that drooled all over his finger.

"You are so pretty, sweetheart." He murmured, peering down at your gaping entrance before his digit prodded at it. You held your breath, stomach tightening as you felt his bigger finger enter you slowly. "Relax..." He said softly again, eyes searching for yours before he continued to push further against your walls. He felt you clamp down on him, sucking him in but still quite tensed. He pulled back slightly before thrusting repeatedly into your sopping hole, trying to relax you — to get you used to the feeling.

And you gasped. When you felt him thrust into you, wetness still sipping out of you like a fucking faucet, you tipped your head back. Jake pushed in further, feeling you pull him in with each move of his. The way he filled you up made you buck into his hand, urging him to push it all the way in. And he did. He pushed his finger all the way and you gasped. The sudden feeling new and extraordinary. But so good. He started by steadily stretching you with just one digit, eyes stuck to the way you ruined his hand with your juices.

"So tight..."

Your breath came out in short bursts now, your body reacting faster than your mind could keep up. Jake watched every little reaction like it was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. His jaw tightened slightly, eyes dark as they moved over your face — flushed cheeks, parted lips, the way you struggled to steady your breathing.

His hand moved again, gliding against his heavy cock in rhythm with the thrusts of his digit into you. Imagining. Imagining the way you would later clamp around his thick cock, take it like a good little girl, bent over this couch right here. He let out a whimper, followed by a moan as he slowly sped up both of his hands.

Your fingers tightened against the couch cushion beside you as you tried to catch your breath. The warmth in your body kept building, spreading through your chest and down your spine in slow waves. A string of gradually louder moans left you, hips bucking into his hand. "J—Jake" You stuttered out, head heavy and body burning up. Everything seemed to narrow down to him and him only.

"You feel that, don't you?" He asked breathing heavy. Your lidded eyes found his heavy ones nodding quickly, not being able to form a proper sentence as you pressed your lips shut tight. Jake's eyes were fast back on the way you took him. You squeezed his finger, eyes moving to the way he was stroking himself under the material and you whined, the foot that was on his knee slightly nudging him.

A chuckle left him, almost too whiny before he muttered. "Yeah... I can tell." His gaze lifted back to your face, studying the way your eyes fluttered shut for a second before opening again. Then he pressed another finger against you entrance, stretching you wider as it glided in with ease. You moaned, arms at the back trembling as he fucked you with his fingers.

"Ah— fuck! "

His thumb pressed against your puffy clit and it seemed like you were in heaven. Your eyes dropped down to the way he split you with his fingers, the way his thumb pressed against your throbbing clit. Your pubic hair was already drenched, a mess that collected all the filthy fluid as he started rubbing your clit, smearing the wetness. All of a sudden a weird feeling started forming in the far pit of your pelvis. The strange pressure twisted deeper in your stomach, coiling tighter and tighter with every movement of his hand.

Your breathing broke into short, uneven pulls as the feeling built too fast, too intense. Your head shook weakly.

"Jake— wait—" Your voice cracked, breath catching in your throat. Panic flickered across your face as the pressure surged again, stronger this time, almost unbearable. "I— I think I'm— I'm gonna—" Jake felt your walls tense, your musles on fire. His slanted eyes suddenly sharpened, his fist abandoned his cock as his attention was fully on you.

You foot against his knee cramped, the other tight by his side sent small tremors that could be felt. Your knees pulled in slightly, threatening to pull your legs together. "I think I'm gonna pee." You blurted out breathlessly, embarrassment rushing into your face as your hips tried to retreat from his merciless hand. "Stop— Jake, stop—"

He didn't. If anything, he sat up straight, back detached form the couch as his eyes stuck to your sensitive core. The painful bulge forgotten for now as his other hand grabbed your ankle of the foot that was on his knee , holding you. His fingers sped up furiously, pistoning into you. One of your hands grabbed his wrist pushing at it, desperation creeping into your voice as the pressure wound even tighter.

"Jake— I'm serious— I can't—" Jake's eyes lifted from between your legs to your face, dark and sharp, breathing rough through parted lips. A low, almost disbelieving laugh slipped out of him. "You are not gonna pee." He said firmly. You shook your head quickly, eyes wide and pleading.

"I am— I swear I am—"

"No." His tone sharpened, cutting through your panic. Your hips tried to pull away again, but his other hand hooked under your thigh, holding you in place.

"You're not." He repeated, slower this time, breath heavy. "You're about to cum."

Your breath stuttered, vision blurring, eyes stinging as his fingers curled inside of you making them roll to the back of your head. Sound that your cunt and his fingers made filled the suffocating room. You panted and moaned, Jake holding you closer than ever as his hand played with your walls, stretching and ruining your insides.

The feeling surged again — overwhelming now, too big to contain — and you gasped, grabbing his forearm, nails digging hard.

"Jake please—"

But he didn't stop. His pace didn't slow. If anything, it grew more deliberate, more certain, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. His eyes were focused, dark as they stuck to the way your pussy ate his fingers up, sucked them in as if inviting him. His dark hair fell over his eyes, jaw tight as he kept his pace. He collected a glob of spit, heavy against his tongue before he spat down, filthy and gross, right onto your cunt.

Your body betrayed you completely. Your back arched, thighs trembling violently as the pressure climbed higher and higher, your mind scrambling to understand what was happening. Everything seemed to blur, the only thing you could comprehend was the way Jake fingered you, the earthy scent that clung into the air and his own cologne that's seemed to be everywhere around you, on him, on his furniture. Everywhere.

"I can't— I can't—" You whimpered, voice breaking, eyes going tight shut tears pricking at the corners.

Jake leaned closer, his voice low and rough and right in you face, breath brushing your lips. "Yes you can." Your whole body tensed.

"Just let it happen."

You shook your head weakly, panic and pleasure tangling together until you couldn't separate them anymore. "Jake—!"

The pressure snapped. Your voice dissolved into a broken cry as the wave finally crashed through you, your entire body jerking as the sensation ripped through your stomach and down your spine. Your hand clutched at his arm while your hips trembled uncontrollably, the intensity stealing the breath straight from your lungs.

Jake swore under his breath, watching you unravel in front of him, his grip tightening slightly as he guided you through it, forearm flexing as he slip your walls repeatedly. "That's it." He murmured, voice rough with satisfaction. "There you go." Your body kept shaking long after the first rush passed, smaller tremors still rolling through you while your head fell back, breath coming in soft, stunned gasps.

For a moment you couldn't even speak.

Jake finally slowed his digits, watching the way your chest rose and fell, the way your fingers still clung weakly to his arm. He slowly pulled out. His digits were drenched. He watched the way your arousal streched, a string of it snapping, like not wanting him to pull away. You hissed at the emptiness that followed. Your slit throbbing with aftershocks and waves of fire as you catches your breath.

Jake let go of your thigh, setting your leg over his lap, enchanted by the way your wetness clung to his fingers, spreading them and watching it stretch. He moaned, voice needy and whiny as he brought them to his lips and sucked it off. He closed his eyes in delight, savoring the taste of you on his tongue. The sight of his moaning around his fingers, made your nervous system wake up again. The pulse speeding up again as the ache between your spread legs grew heavier.

You shifted, legs tucked beneath you and hand on his chest pushing him back against the couch. You were breathing hard, eyes going over his leaned figure as you scanned his rock hard bulge. Jake was too busy sucking off your juices, enjoying it a little too much before he pulled them out of his mouth the second your shaky hands were on his waistband, pulling it down and over his cock. Jake turned his head to look at you, the way you tucked your hair behind your ears, ready to bend down, knees brushing his side as they tremored from the orgasm.

He let his hand down on his thigh, rating it there as he adjusted himself on the cozy couch, thighs spreading and hips lowering.

You were stunned. The wet stain on the from of his underwear was massive, the heavy boner imprinting onto the ruined material. Before he could utter a word you pulled his boxers too, letting his hard cock free. He moaned at the sudden air that hit his pulsing head, eyes closing in brief pleasure.

He stood tall, veiny and painfully hard. His tip raging with blood, red and oozing precum. The veins run down its length, right down to the base and you gulped. "Do you know what to do with it?" His low and needy voice made your eyes flick to his, your hands already collecting your hair and pushing it to the side, so he could have a good view. You shook your head but still was lowering down. Jake couldn't look away. The moment your lips brushed the side of his head, leaving a light kiss onto it he took a sharp breath. You let the tip of your tongue out, poking him experimentally and he shuddered. His hand shot down, grabbing his base as he held it for you. "Lick the tip." He let out as his voice trailed off into a breathy moan. "Ah shit... Just like that."

You kitty locked his tip, the wet and warm muscle feeling his heated and tense head. The fluid was salty, tangy. You moaned at the taste tongue moving from the middle of his veiny cock up to the sensitive tip. Jake’s breath hitched when you looked up at him like that.

For a second he just watched you — chest rising and falling slowly, eyes dark and half-lidded, the tension in his jaw tightening as if he was trying to hold himself together. The room felt warmer than before, the air thick with that quiet, buzzing tension that had been building between you all night.

Your lips brushed him again in a soft, testing motion.

Jake swore under his breath.

His hand slid into your hair, not rough, but firm enough to make you look back up at him. His thumb brushed along your cheek, eyes roaming over your flushed face, the parted lips, the nervous determination in your gaze. You glanced up at him, lips slick, eyes wide and pupils blown. It made him curse under his breath, the simple brush of your breath against his sensitive flesh made his muscles tense. "I have to taste you, fuck —"

His fingers flexed around your strands, pulling you harshly with the strength so unexpected. Your lips collided in a messy kiss, noses bumping as he savored you. The saltines on your lips from him, the swollen, warm flesh moving against his experienced mouth trying to catch up and seem confident.

But fuck, did he actually enjoy the exact inexperience you tried so hard to conceal.

It made him groan against your clumsy lips, your hand fisting the front of his shirt as his other hand carresed the back of your thighs, fingers digging into the skin as he dragged the leg over his lap. Finally, his neck untensed, kissing you mercilessly as you settled on his lap, each knee on the side of his thighs. Your hands found their place on his shoulders, feeling the cotton material of his shirt under your fingertips. His grip in your hair faltered, both hands moving down to your thighs, carresinh the burning skin and feeling the goosebumps pricking his hyperaware touch.

Jake kissed you messily, tongue prodding at your parted and tired lips, carresing your slow warm muscle as you struggled to get into a rhythm with his expert moves. You moaned in annoyance and neediness, thighs quivering under his palms, the innerside trickling with your wetness, the air hitting your pulsing core.

Jake pulled back slightly, eyes opening just merrily. You chased his lips, a smirk on his own as he pulled back teasingly making you whine. He squeezed your bare hips, eyes going down your chest.

And it stayed stuck there.

He kneaded your hips, his teeth already catching his bottom lip. His gaze was stuck to the way your nipple still stood erect, the bra cup pushing your flesh up as it dug under it. He dug his head lower, eyes flicking up to you before his mouth engulfed your breast. You gasped at the unfamiliar warmth around your areola, your chest jutting out at instinct.

Jake's hard lenght rested low on his abdomen, hard and pulsing against his shirt, right between you two. Jake's tongue circled your nipple, flicking it rapidly with his tongue before sucking on it again.

Your eyes never left the way he assaulted your sensitive peak, pants leaving your mouth, fingers cramping against his shoulders. His saliva coated your bare breasts, his tongue gliding against it, teasing the bud as he balanced the tip of his tongue on it. His eyes closed in delight, his other hand coming up to unclip the bra on your back. And he did it at the first try, the pressure around your ribcage and chest releasing as he pulled it off of you, mouth attached to your swollen tit as he threw it over his shoulder. He moaned, hand coming up to massage the other one, rolling your nipple between his slender fingers.

"Fuck doll..." He pulled away just merilly to take in the full picture of your tits at his mercy. Swollen. Begging to be sucked. His cock twitched, the small white pearl trickling down his lenght, drooling at the sight before him. He grasped both of your tits, pressing them together and watching the flesh collide. His tongue switching from one to the other, teasingly flicking and carresing. You could not utter a word, just silently staring in awe at the way he handled your tender body. Gasps and moan escaping you at the sinful actions you never thought about before, never knew would make your pussy throb so violently.

You shivered in his hold, hips moving helplessly against air — just searching for some minimal friction. "Could lick these tits for hours shit—" He left a slow kiss on each of your nipples, lips lingering for a second longer than necessary, as if savoring the way your body reacted to him. Your breath kept hitching in uneven pulls, chest rising and falling faster the longer he watched you unravel.

Jake leaned back just enough to take you in again.

Your bra was gone, tossed somewhere behind the couch, your chest flushed and sensitive under the warm light of the room. His hands were still wrapped around your tits, thumbs brushing slowly over your peaks like he couldn't quite stop touching you.

Your hips shifted again without meaning to, that restless desperation returning the moment he stopped paying direct attention to the heat building lower in your body. Jake noticed immediately. His eyes flicked downward, catching the movement. A quiet, amused huff escaped him. "Getting needy, huh?" He murmured.

Your cheeks flushed, but you didn't deny it this time. The high still floating through your body made it hard to hide anything — every sensation louder, every emotion closer to the surface. "Jake…" You breathed softly.

The sound of his name like that made his jaw tighten for a second. He leaned forward again, pressing another slow kiss against your chest before lifting his gaze back to yours. His eyes were glassy from the high, half-lidded and heavy, but the hunger in them hadn't faded at all.

"If I keep going like this." He muttered quietly, "I'm not gonna stop."

Your stomach flipped.

You didn't move away. Jake studied your face for a second longer, watching the way your lips parted slightly, the way you looked at him like you were waiting for whatever he decided to do next. That was all the answer he needed. A crooked smile tugged at his mouth, eyes flicking down to your hips, to the soft curls tempting him just inches away from his leaking cock. He bit his lip hard enough that his jaw flexed.

"Fuck, sweetie… I have to taste you. Now."

The words came out rough, almost desperate. The composure he'd been holding onto all night was cracking. The smoke in the room still present and still getting to the both of you. Before you could even process it, his hands were already on you.

Jake's grip slid around your hips, firm and impatient as he pulled you toward him. The sudden movement made you gasp, your hands instinctively landing on his shoulders for balance as the couch dipped beneath the two of you.

"Bout to rock your world ." He muttered, voice low and breathy, almost as a promise to himself. You gulped at his words, hands gripping onto him. There was nothing hesitant about the way he moved now. His hands guided you with a certainty that made your stomach twist, shifting you across the cushions until your bodies tangled together, you on top of his body as he layed on the couch.

You blinked, a nervous lump catching in your throat when you realized what he was doing. He pulled you in a brief deep kiss, you hands came up by his head supporting your weight. The sudden closeness made you gulp, your tits pressed against his chest, his heavy and wet cock against your stomach, your pussy drooling at just the simple feel of it. When he pulled back, his breathing was heavier now, chest rising and falling under you, hands moving form your waist to your ass, grasping and squeezing it as you moved against him from the strength. Your damp bush moved up his cock, the roughness of your hair made him hiss, eyes never leaving yours.

"Fuck… feel that? His voice dropped, rougher now, feeling your wet bush rub against him, feeling your folds drool as you went still ove him, letting him handle you." Soaked already.” He exhales through his teeth, eyes dark. "You've got no idea what you're doing to me, dont you?" Jake's grip on your hips tightened suddenly, pulling you closer against him. His eyes dragged slowly down your body before flicking back up to your face, darker now, breath heavier. His hand slid down your thigh, guiding you with a firm squeeze. "Move up a little."

You hesitated for half a second, nerves fluttering in your chest, but the way his fingers pressed insistently at your hips made you obey. You shifted on your knees and palms over him, your breath catching when his gaze followed every inch of the movement.

"Good girl." He muttered hoarsely. His hand slid to the back of your thigh, urging you higher. "C'mon… Get over me... Turn around first." He instructed quietly. You did, a little clumsily, trying not to overthink the way his eyes followed every movement. "Knees by my head, face my feet."

When you shifted again he helped position you, steady hands settling you where he wanted you. You tried to ignore the nervous flutter in your chest, awareness of his eyes over your most intimate part. Ignoring the way his hard leaking cock that you knew nothing about was right in front of your face.

"There you go." He murmured, eyes still going over your figure. Your hair slid over your shoulder as you glanced back at him nervously. Jake's gaze moved slowly over you, heat flickering through his expression as his eyes finally stopped on your heat. Your dripping and pulsing heat, damp hairs sticking to your lips due to the slimy arousal. One hand slid along your thigh, the other steady at your waist as he nudged you into place.

"Babydoll, fuuuck..." He whimpered, throwing his head back slightly against the cushion before raising it again. Your breathing had already started picking up again, chest rising and falling faster as he adjusted you more, the closeness between you suddenly overwhelming. The high still humming in your body made everything feel heavier — his hands warmer, the air thicker, your thoughts slower.

Jake exhaled sharply when you finally settled where he wanted you. "Yeah." He muttered under his breath. His fingers tightened slightly at your hips, pulling you just a little closer. "Going to eat you so good..."

You could feel the tension in him now, the way his body seemed restless with need. Even through the haze clouding his eyes, the hunger there was unmistakable.

Your stomach fluttered.

His hand slid slowly up your side, fingers brushing along your ribs before settling at your waist again. For a second he just looked at you — really looked — eyes moving over your flushed skin, your messy hair, the way your lips stayed slightly parted from your uneven breathing as you gazed at him over your bare shoulder.

"God." He muttered quietly.

Then he leaned down to your core, voice dropping low again as you could not see him anymore. "Use that pretty mouth too, would you, hm?"

And for the first time he let his tongue move all the way from your clit and up to your entrance. You shuddered at the new feeling, the tight muscle of his going right between your untouched folds, separating them so suddenly and deliberately. He hummed in delight, the feel of your slickness against his tongue and the contrast of your rough curls sent him going crazy. "Fuck..." He muttered, tongue back on you, circling your clit with the tense tip of his tongue, letting it roll and flick just right. You tried to catch your breath, tried to supress the sounds that threatened to escape you. Wanting nothing else but to please him too, your eyes darted to his hard cock, nervously thinking what to do, what would make him feel good. And when your felt Jake moan against you, his plump lips sucking at your bud you panted back, mouth agape as your hand went to wrap around him hastily. Your hand moved clumsily up and down his shaft, precum leaking with each tug you delivered. He moaned against you again, lips releasing your clit before moving up to your entrance, poking and circling it. You moaned, eyes going shut and mouth agape, your palm stroking him as you leaned all the way down to his tip.

Just as you were about to engulf his raging head, a high pitched moan erupted from your chest when his finger entered your hole, mouth moving down to your throbbing clit, sucking harshly, flicking his hungry tongue over the puffy bud that pulsed between his slick lips. "Ah—" Your hand slowed down around him, eyes going shut as your forehead dropped down briefly to his hip, searching for something to hold onto, to steady you. Your hips moved back instinctively, meeting his finger half-thrust and grinding against his suckling mouth. "You like me sucking your pussy clean, hm?" He pulled just an inch before his tongue flicked your clit, dancing around it with precision, his finger thrusting into your throbbing tight hole fast. Your hand stopped at the base of his big cock, head raising from his hip as your moaned desperately, other hand fisting his sweats.

"Fuck— Yes Daddy, yes!"

Words left your fuzzy mind without a thought, and Jake swore his heart stopped. His dick twitched. He growled against your heat in response, tongue lapping up your essence that seemed to never stop. "Yeah? You like daddy making you feel good?"

Your breath caught hard in your throat at his words, the nickname still echoing through your hazy mind like a spark to dry fuel as you hummed in response. Heat rushed through your body all at once, your fingers tightening around him where you held him at the base. For a second you almost forgot what you were doing entirely — hips trembling above him while his mouth worked against you with a hunger that made your head spin.

"C'mon princess. Don't get tired now..." He muttered against you, voice muffled and rough as his tongue dragged slowly over you again, making your thighs tense around his head. "Use that mouth too… yeah, just like that."

The command pulled you back into the moment.

Your hand began moving again, slowly at first, uncertain fingers sliding along his length while your lips finally lowered around the heated tip you'd been hovering over. The contact pulled a deep groan out of him instantly, the vibration of it sending another sharp shiver up your spine.

"Fuck…" He breathed, the word rumbling low against your skin. Your tongue moved shyly, copying what he instructed you earlier — small, curious movements, tasting the salty warmth there before your lips closed more firmly around him. Your hand followed the rhythm, sliding up and down as you tried to find a pace that felt right.

Jake's reaction was immediate. He moaned, hips bucking into your mouth and grip. His hand came down to your thigh, gripping it firmly while his finger curled inside you, thrusting a little deeper now. His mouth didn't leave you for more than a second at a time, tongue flicking and circling before sealing around your sensitive bud again with renewed focus.

"That's it…" He rasped, breath uneven now. "Look at you… learning so fast."

The praise made your stomach tighten.

You tried to keep moving for him, your mouth and hand working together clumsily but eagerly, and every small sound he made only made you want to do it better. His hips twitched beneath you, his fingers tightening slightly in your thigh while his tongue pressed harder, more deliberate now.

The rhythm between you both started to build without either of you saying it.

Your hips moved against his face helplessly, chasing the sensation each time his tongue found the exact spot that made your whole body jolt. His finger pushed in deeper, curling slightly as he felt you clench around him.

"Yeah… There you go." He murmured against you, voice low and breathless. "Feel that?"

You did.

The strange tight warmth in your stomach was back again, stronger this time — spreading through your body in waves that made it harder and harder to keep your movements steady. Your hand faltered around him for a moment, a muffled moan slipping from your throat when he pulled his finger out, vibrations around his tip sending his hips thrusting up.

Jake noticed instantly.

His arms wrapped around your thighs to keep you where he wanted you, holding you in place while his tongue moved faster, more focused now. His head moved against your pussy, eating you till he is breathless, till your essence dripped down onto his shirt, till his tongue glided against your hairy lips, sucking off the sticky mess.

Your mouth detached from him, a string of saliva snapping as you finally moaned, hand stopping all the movements over him. Your mouth went agape, eyes tight shut at the knot forming in the pit of your stomach. "I—I—Yes! Fuck!" You stuttered, crying out as you moved back against his face. He slurped you up furiously, moaning as he let your pussy drool all over his face.

Your body shuddered violently, everything seemed to shut down except him. Every nerve was alight as the heat coiled tighter and tighter in your core. Breath hitched and uneven, your chest rising and falling fast. Your hands clutched at the couch as your hips moved desperately back against him. The sensation of him beneath you, relentless and unyielding, was too much, too exquisite, and your mind could not hold back any longer.

"D—Daddy... Oh fuck!" You cried, voice breaking. Jake stiffened under you at your voice, eyes closing for a moment as he savored the sound. The nickname slipped out so naturally, so needy, it pulled a low desperate groan from his chest as he didn't let up. His tongue sucked at your clit harshly, rolling it between his plump tired lips as his two fingers found your hole again. He felt your spasming entrance pull them in, sucking greedily.

He held you there, face pressed to your most sensitive spot, tongue circling and flicking, his fingers pumping into you just enough to tease you, guiding the waves of release that kept crushing through you. Your nails dug into his sides now, pressing into his covered thighs. He hissed against you at it, his own breathing raged and desperate.

"That's it, doll... That's it." He rasped, voice low and commanding. "Feel that... Feel how good you are for me." Your high body trembled, hips jerking lightly as your climax ripped through you. Your hair stuck to your sweaty face, sticky and wild, your throat hoarse as you shivered over him. His grip on your thighs faltered, now digging into your hip as he guided you over his mouth that moved around your bud with sharp and teasing precision, keeping you riding the aftermath of your high. "So perfect, babydoll... Look at you, shaking for me." He murmured, voice rough and vibrating against your swollen pussy, his fingers pumping into you mercilessly.

Your thighs felt like jelly, shivering and trembling with each feel of his warmth against you. Your chest heavied, against his pelvis, arms shaky by his sides. Every whispered words from him sent shivers down your spine, making you arch instinctively, chasing the lingering waves of pleasure and not wanting this to end. You sobbed, vision blurry as you still grinded against his savage fingers. "Please please please— I don't want it to stop please Daddy!" You cried out, hands fisting his sweats as the pleasure started subduing, slowly being replaced by the sensitivity you never felt before.

Jake's hummed under you, feeling your weight on top of his burning body as his fingers assaulted your heat. Your gaping hole fluttered when he pulled them out, making you twitch under his eyes as he smacked your thigh. Hard. A red harsh print rising fast on your sweaty skin as the smack resonanted the room. And you jolted from it. "C'mon... Bend over the couch f'me."

You hummed in affirmation, nodding to yourself as you crawled away from him, your body tender and limp, but still the hunger kept you tethered. You grabbed the back of the couch ignoring the uncomfortable sensitivity between your slick thighs as they quivered. Your knees deeped into the cushion, your arms resting over the back rest as you positioned yourself. Slightly leaned over. Knees apart. Lower back arched.

Just the way you thought is supposed to be.

Jake was quick to eye your position, going over your side and curves. You turned your head to the side to look at him. Ruined. You were ruined. Jake hummed in delight, gaze dancing over your face as he pushed himself up. "Little girl is learning fast, hm?" His hands grabbed the hem of his shirt as he was up on his feet, moving right behind you. "Are you that eager for a cock?" He taunted, shirt on the floor by his feet as he let his knees dip into the couch bezween your apart calves. You gulped, still trying to collect yourself, to steady. The only sign of presence form him was the dipped couch right by your legs, the suffocating warmth from the proximity behind you and now his arms that came into your vision, grabbing onto the same cushion right by your own trembling hands. He moved closer, breath fanning your ear, his cock slightly brushing your ass and you froze. "Are you going to be a good girl for daddy?" His voice was low, seductive.

Jake placed a tender kiss on your shoulder, the place burning and aching. "Let me use your little virgin cunt? Hm?" He grinded his hips right on you, letting it glide between your tender asscheeks. He felt you move back against it, a whimper following. He chuckled darkly, one of his hands moving down around his cock, grasping it and leading it to your leaking folds.

"Shit baby..." His gaze was stuck to your messy heat. Tip grazing against rough hairs as they caressed his raging head. He hissed, dragging it against the slimy and sticky mess. You gasped when he dived into your slit, dragging the tip up and down your fold, separating them and watching the way they closed around his pulsing dick. He groaned when he felt your bud against his shaft, grinding and thrusting right through your mess. You shook under Jake, letting him play with you as he pleased, as he and only he wanted.

"You are going to take this dick, right sweetie?"

No answer, just a sharp inhale when his tip caught onto your clit before moving up to your entrance, tapping against your clenching hole.

"Words, pretty... I need words."

"Y—Yes..." He put a slight pressure against your gaping slit. You gasped. "Yes what?" He asked cockily, right by your ear. You closed your eyes as you inhaled sharply again, trying to form a proper sentence and ignore the way he was shallowly pressing against your pussy, trying to get the filthy words out of you.

"I-I'm going to take it..."

Jake's brows furrowed, teasingly thinking about it with a smirk tugging at his lips. He pushed the tip in with no warning and you stiffened. "Hmmm, I dont think I like that. Let's rephrase it, shall we?" He slammed in, knocking the air out of your lungs with the sudden stretch and fullness. You gripped the backrest, a sob escaping you. Too full. It was too much. Your nails dug into the cushion, bracing for more. The pain was sudden when he glided in with a sharp thrust. He stayed still, breath still fanning your cheek. "I'm going to take daddy's cock like a good little girl, say it." He bottomed out, feeling your walls relax around him before he thrusted in again. His now free hand came up to your hair, tangling into the roots as it stayed there. "I—I'm going to take daddy' s cock like a good little girl!" You sobbed out, tears threatening to drop down your hot face. He pulled back again, hips slamming against your ass hard, sending you jolting against the couch.

"Good girl...." He cooed, jutting his bottom lip out as he breathed over your ear. "See? It wasn't that hard." He started thrusting, catching the rhythm and feeling you tremble with each drag of his heavy cock against your soft velvety walls. You bit your lip, eyes tight shut as a tear rolled down your cheek. You were gripping the back rest for dear life, his hips smacking and dick dragging in and out of you made you dizzy.

When suddenly, the uncomfortable thrusting, the uncomfortable stretch started melting into something else. Your mouth opened, focusing on your breathing as you relaxed against him. Jake felt that, felt your walls relax and take him in without resistance. "That's it..." He murmured. "Take it all." His grip tightened in your hair, hips speeding up. A broken low moan escape your parted lips when he pistoned into. Your gummy walls taking him in, sucking so invitingly. Your brows furrowed, the tears drying on your warm cheeks as you let him abuse your tight cunt.

Jake delivered a kiss to your shoulder, tongue flicking your ear as he panted, chasing the friction that seemed to only dissolve with your wetness that seeped out of you. The sounds were obscene, echoing together with the forgotten low music in the background, your pants and sobs replacing it.

"So fucking tight." He groaned when he felt you squeeze him. His fingers flexed in your hair, pushing your head lower, bending your body to his will as he straightened his back, eyes moving down to the way you took him. The new slightly different angle made you moan, hips moving to meet his. Your forehead on the couch, arms dangling in front of you as he pressed harder and harder into you. The smacking sounds were filthy, your moans and his pants mixed in a spiral of frenzied hunger.

"Please please please." You uttered out, the now familiar knot forming again at the pit of your abdomen, the third orgasm on its way as the sensitivity was long forgotten. Jake's eyes moved over your back, over your hips that moved with each plunge of his into your pussy that took him so good. His cock throbbed, begging for a release. But Jake licked his lips, eyes stuck to your essence sticking to his pelvis and the base of his cock and he groaned, pulling out hastily.

"I have to fucking taste you again." He spoke through gritted teeth at your gasp of surprise at the sudden emptiness. He lowered down, his grip on the couch and your hair moving down to your hips as he was down face to face with your wetness. You raised your head, glancing over your shoulder in confusion, trying to catch your breath.

His tongue ran through your folds impatiently, moaning at your mixed arousals at it ooze out of your used hole. Fucking tainted cunt that was his to use for the first time. His to make it filthy and ruined.

You moaned, hand blindly reached behind you, finding his hair as you gripped it. "So good! Please don't stop!" You moaned out, feeling his thumbs coming to spread your lips, revealing the tender flesh that begged for his mouth. And he attached to you again, sucking and rolling your bud aggressively before moving up to your hole, thrusting his tongue repeatedly, feeling you fall apart and melt into the couch.

He pulled away, just enough to spit onto you, saliva attaching and dripping as it mixed with your slimy mess. It dripped right from your hole and moved your throbbing clit. It dipped right into your dark hair.

Jake inhaled sharply, watching it stick to the ruined, harsh hairs and before he could stop himself his tongue dived into your bush, his nose bumping at your sore bundle of nerves. He dragged his tongue around your puffy hair, moaning as he felt it scratch his hot muscle just right, feeling it graze his plump lips. "Fuck." He cursed under his breath, his hand coming down to stroke his abandoned cock furiously, tugging it fast as he raised himself again on his feet, knees back on their old position against the couch as he entered you again.

He moaned at the feel together with your desperate whine at the intrusion. Feeling him fill every space behind you. No words were exchanged as he started thrusting into you furiously, chasing his high. You squirmed under him, soft moans leaving your parted lips as he ravished you. His breath hitched as your body trembled beneath him, the warmth and closeness making his head spin. For a moment he just held you there, chest pressed against your back, his hands gripping your hips as he moved with a restless, impatient rhythm. The couch creaked faintly beneath you both, the room filled with nothing but uneven breathing and the quiet sounds of movement.

Your fingers curled into the fabric beneath you, trying to steady yourself as the sensation kept building again, softer this time but just as overwhelming. The haze from earlier still clung to your thoughts, making everything feel slower, warmer, more intense. Jake noticed immediately, a quiet groan slipped from him as he pulled you a little closer against him, his grip tightening slightly on your waist.

Jake let out a rough breath, his grip tightening on your hips as he held you exactly where he wanted you. The desperation in him was obvious now — no more restraint, no careful teasing. Just raw hunger.

"God… Listen to you." He muttered near your ear, voice hoarse and low. "All those pretty sounds and you think I'm gonna go easy on you?"

Your breath caught at the tone alone.

He leaned closer, chest pressing harder into your back, the warmth of him wrapping around you as his movements grew more impatient again. A quiet whine escaped you, and that only seemed to make him worse.

Jake let out a dark chuckle, the sound vibrating against your skin as his fingers tightened slightly at your waist, keeping you from slipping away from him. "Yeah, that's it… keep making those noises." He murmured. "You've got no idea what that does to me."

Your head tipped forward, breath uneven, fingers gripping the backrest at the feel of his cock reaching deeper than ever. "" Don’t hide from me."He said, voice suddenly sharper, more commanding. One hand slid up your side, guiding your jaw to face him over your shoulder so he could see your face again. "I want to see you when you feel it."

Your eyes flicked to his, dazed and glassy. Jake groaned quietly at the sight the other hand coming between your legs to rub your clit "Fuck… There she is." He breathed, fingers speeding up against your puffy bud. "All worked up and looking at me like that."

His thumb brushed along your jaw for a second before his hand dropped back to your hip, pulling you closer again. You whimpered, your head overwhelmed with all the stimulation that you are left just breathing harshly. "You're trouble, you know that?" He muttered, breath hot against your neck, fingers never faltering against your clit as you felt the knot grow tight, at the bring f exploding. "Walking around acting all innocent, and then look what you do to me."

You shifted helplessly against him, hips trying to run from his merciless hand but was only met with his cock that plunged into you angrily, pulsing inside of you. Your breath broke into a shaky cry as the pressure inside you tightened impossibly, every nerve screaming with the intensity of it. Jake felt it — the way your body started trembling against him, the way your hips faltered as if you didn't know whether to pull away or chase the feeling harder.

"Yeah cum on my cock, sweetie. " He rasped against your ear, voice thick and dark. His arm wrapped tighter around your waist, holding you right where you were when you tried to squirm away from the overwhelming sensation. "You feel that, huh? Been building this whole time."

You whimpered, fingers clutching blindly at his forearm, your body shaking harder with every second. He chuckled darkly against your skin, his hips fucking you into the oblivious, fingers playing with your sensitive clit. "Jake! Jake fuck!"

"Fuck…" He breathed, the sound almost a growl as he felt you come apart against him. His grip tightened on you, holding you steady while your body trembled through it, your breath coming out in broken gasps. "That's it." He murmured, voice suddenly softer but still thick with hunger. "Good girl… such a good girl."

Your nails dug into his arm as the aftershocks kept rippling through you, your body weak and shaking in his hold. Jake pressed his forehead briefly to the side of your head, his breathing just as ragged now.

"This little pussy is sucking me in so good..." He muttered hoarsely, fingers against your twitching clit stopping as he focused on the way your spasming walls took him. "Going to fucking breed you... Let everyone know you let me in your tight virgin pussy." He sped up his thrusts, the pace making you grip the couch tighter, closing your eyes as you endured. You moaned, his words sending small waves of pleasure through you. "You want that, hm?" You nodded quickly, breathing unstable and fast as spoke through gritted teeth, when the sudden tightness burst and he moaned. His cock shot ropes of white right into you, coating your walls as it pulsed. Jake's thrust slowed gradually, letting the last drops leave his throbbing lenght.

Jake's breath left him in a long, ragged exhale as the last of the tension drained from his body. For a moment he stayed exactly like that behind you, forehead resting against your shoulder, both of you breathing hard in the quiet room. The haze from earlier still clung to everything — the music faint somewhere in the background, the warmth of your bodies pressed together, the slow return of your senses after everything that had just happened. His hand slid lazily over your hip, squeezing once before he finally pulled out. His cock drained and your pussy glistening and pulsing.

You felt the movement and let out a soft, exhausted whine, your arms still braced against the couch as you tried to steady your breathing. Jake chuckled quietly behind you at the sound, the low rumble of it warm against your skin.

"Easy…" He murmured.

He shifted again, slowly pulling away and helping you sit back properly against the cushions. For a second neither of you spoke. You just sat there catching your breath, hair messy, lips parted, your body still trembling faintly from the aftershocks. The sudden uncomfortable leak of fluid from your hole made you hiss, eyes dropping between your thighs as you slightly spread them.

Jake ran a hand through his hair, letting out another breath before glancing over at you. "Hey." He said quietly, nudging your knee with his. "Look at me."

Your eyes lifted to his, still a little dazed. His expression softened slightly when he saw you like that — flushed, shy again now that the intensity had faded. "I'll grab you a Plan B later." He said, voice calmer now, almost casual despite everything that had just happened. "Just to be safe." You blinked at him, the seriousness of it cutting through the fog in your head. Then you nodded slowly, still quite not grasping the situation and everything that happened.

Jake leaned back into the couch with a tired sigh, throwing an arm across his eyes, breathing hard. "Jesus." He muttered with a crooked smile, everything coming to him in a flash. The weight falling on his shoulders he didn't expect it to. "Didn't expect tonight to go like that." Before you could answer, a sudden knock echoed from the front door.

Both of you froze.

Another knock followed, louder this time. Jake's head turned slowly toward the hallway, brows lifting slightly. "Uh…" He muttered under his breath. From outside the door, a familiar voice called out.

"Hello? Jake? Is she here?"

Your stomach dropped instantly.

Your mom.

Jake snapped his head toward you, eyes going over your naked figure before he tucked himself in his briefs, raising the sweats back over his hips. He grabbed the shirt from the floor and put it on before he spoke with a commanding and controlled voice, no sight of any panic.

"Get dressed. Quickly."

_____

! this is all work of fiction. in no way this is a representation of enhypen members nor do I believe this is how they behave in real life or condone these actions!