Riri ٠࣪⭑

Jake didn’t see the suitcase at first.

He didn’t see anything. 

He was too busy wallowing.

“I treat them well, right? I’m nice. I try. I’m not a jerk. I’m respectful. And somehow, they still leave. Every. Single. Time. So clearly the common denominator is me—”

“Mhm.”

“So maybe relationships just aren’t in the cards for me. Maybe I should take a break. A long break. Like a… celibate monk arc or something.”

“That sounds dramatic.”

Jake lifted his head. “I’m dramatic! I’m heartbroken!”

Heeseung zipped up his duffel bag with one hand and tossed a pair of sunglasses in after it. “Then come be a camp counselor with me this summer.”

Jake blinked. “What?”

Heeseung shrugged. “Fresh air. No dating apps. No situationships. No exes. Just kids, nature, and free meals. Might fix your brain.”

Jake stared.

Heeseung continued stuffing socks into corners of the bag.

Jake stared harder.

Heeseung wasn’t kidding, was he?

Jake sat up straighter. A distraction. A purpose. Something new. Something healthy. A break from the heartbreak factory his dating life had become.

He latched onto the idea like a lifeline.

“You know what? You’re right.” Jake sprang to his feet with renewed determination. “I’ll do it.”

Heeseung snorted. “Bro, I was just—”

Too late.

Jake was already gone.

The next morning Heeseung opened his door—and froze.

Because on his porch stood Jake Sim:

Two duffel bags slung over his shoulders.

A bright orange life vest buckled proudly over his shirt.

Sunscreen unevenly smeared in streaks across his face.

A crooked baseball cap.

Sunglasses too big for his head.

A whistle hanging around his neck.

Hiking boots untied.

And the most earnest, determined expression imaginable 

“Morning!” Jake chirped breathlessly. “I’m ready.”

Heeseung blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. 

“…You’re joking.”

“Nope!” Jake stepped forward cheerily, boots thudding on the wooden porch. “Signed up, got accepted, printed the forms, even watched a knot-tying tutorial.”

“But—but I wasn’t serious—”

“Too late! I’m already mentally in nature mode.”

Heeseung ran a hand down his face. “Jaeyun, you look—ridiculous.”

“Prepared,” Jake corrected, beaming.

And prepared he was—prepared enough that when they arrived, he accidentally impressed the camp director by already knowing the emergency protocols, showing his whistle-usage demonstration unprompted, identifying poison ivy correctly and shaking everyone’s hand like he was running for office.

Within an hour, he was given a standard camp uniform, a set of keys, and a shared hut assignment with Heeseung.

Heeseung had mourned.

“Great,” He sighed dramatically, tossing a string of condoms into his drawer. “There goes my bachelor hut. No more bringing hot counselors back here.”

Jake blinked. “…Hot counselors?”

He hadn’t thought about that. He hadn’t thought about women at all, actually.

The whole point was to get away from them. Reset. Recalibrate. Heal.

But then—

Then he walked into the staff orientation meeting.

And he saw them.

Women his age. Attractive women. Very attractive women.

Sun-kissed skin. Short shorts. Uniform shirts tied at the waist or stretched across curves. Laughs that carried across the field. Smiles bright as the July sun.

Jake’s brain short-circuited.

Heeseung slapped his back. “Forgot to mention that part. Oops.”

Jake choked. “You—you brought me to temptation island?!”

“It’s literally just a summer camp, bro.”

There was nothing “just” about it for Jake.

He tried his best—really tried—to stay focused. To be professional. To avoid unnecessary touching or staring. To keep his voice steady when talking to female counselors.

He failed often.

But all those attempts shattered the moment you walked in.

You had years of experience written in confident steps. A clipboard under your arm. Hair pulled back loosely, with strands falling in the sun. Two top buttons of your uniform undone,  enough to make Jake swallow hard. A glint of a lacy bra edge that seared itself into his retinas and soul. Little pins decorating your shirt pocket. Bandages sticking out of one cargo pocket. A smile that made the kids run to you like you were the sun itself.

You kneeling to tie a child’s shoelaces? Lethal. You laughing when a little boy told you you were “the prettiest lady ever”? Fatal. You twirling a strand of hair while listening to another counselor? Catastrophic.

Jake had been doomed before you even looked at him. 

And when you did look at him—eyes bright, lips curved in a friendly hello—Jake felt his knees weaken so dramatically he nearly collapsed into the nearest picnic table.

Heeseung, of course, noticed.

“Ah,” he said smugly. “Found your distraction.”

Jake didn’t answer, because for the first time in a long, miserable stretch of heartbreak…

He felt something spark. Something warm. Something like desire. Something like falling.

And unfortunately for him—

It was happening fast.

It was happening hard.

And it was happening with you.

Jake Sim had survived three breakups, one allergic reaction to a cat he tried to impress a girl with, and a disastrous blind date where the woman only talked about her ex’s crypto investments.

But you?

You were the first thing to genuinely terrify him. 

Which is exactly why he spent the next few days avoiding you like you were trained specifically to hunt down boys with fragile hearts. And luckily—miraculously—the kids kept him occupied enough to make avoidance a legitimate battle plan.

Jake made sure his entire schedule left no space for accidentally brushing shoulders with you.

Archery practice? He volunteered. Canoe supervision? Signed up. Arts and crafts? Already promised the kids he’d make them braided bracelets. Bug safety presentation? He memorized the handout and delivered it with genuine enthusiasm.

It helped that thirty-six children seemed determined to orbit him like satellites.

“Jake hyung! Jake hyung! Can you help me find my water bottle?”

“Jake! Tie my shoe!”

“Jake, can you do the whistle thing again?”

Heeseung, watching from across the field, looked like a man witnessing a strange phenomenon.

“Dude,” he said, leaning beside him, “you’re like… dad-coded.”

Jake wiped sweat from his forehead. “Perfect. The more dad-coded I am, the less chance I have of embarrassing myself in front of—” He abruptly clamped his mouth shut.

Heeseung smirked. “Ah. Avoiding that counselor, are we?”

Jake reddened. “I’m not avoiding anyone. I’m being productive.”

Heeseung pointed across the field.

You were kneeling beside a little girl helping her braid wildflowers into a crown, hair glimmering in the sun, shirt loose enough that the breeze caught it.

Jake immediately turned around and pretended to fix a crooked signpost.

Heeseung laughed for a full thirty seconds.

Jake perfected the art of being physically present but socially absent.

When you entered the dining hall? Jake exited stage left, carrying a stack of napkins he didn’t technically need.

When you walked toward the docks? Jake suddenly remembered he left sunscreen in his cabin and sprinted away.

When you greeted him with a warm, friendly “Good morning, Jake!” He panicked, waved too fast, nearly dropped his tray, then escaped into a group of eight-year-olds debating whether frogs could fall in love.

Jake’s system of avoidance worked flawlessly—until nature decided to betray him.

It happened during a swimming rotation.

Jake was teaching a small group how to float on their backs, explaining the basics with gentle encouragement. The sun was warm, the water cool, the kids giggling.

He was happy. Stable.

And then he heard your voice behind him.

“Jake! Can you help me with something?”

Every muscle in his body tensed.

Slowly—agonizingly—he turned.

You were standing at the edge of the dock, clipboard against your chest, sunglasses perched on your head, uniform shirt half-unbuttoned because of the heat.

Jake forgot what language he was speaking for a moment.

“What—uh—help you? Help. Yes. I—yeah. Some… thing. Help.”

You smiled, oblivious to his internal meltdown.

“One of my campers is scared of getting in. You’re great with the nervous ones. Mind giving her a demonstration?”

“Sure,” he croaked. “Happy to help.”

You guided the shy camper forward and knelt beside her, encouraging her gently.

Jake’s heart clenched.

God, you were sweet. Sweet in a way that made him ache. Sweet in a way that made him terrified of falling again.

He moved into the shallow water, demonstrating calmly, voice soft, arms open.

And it worked.

The little girl eventually stepped into the lake, holding onto Jake’s hands, trusting him completely.

You glanced at him, smiling warmly.

Jake forgot to breathe.

As you praised the camper who had conquered her fear, Jake found himself staring.

Not in a “wow, she’s nice” way. But in a “I am absolutely, undeniably screwed” way.

The sun hit your damp shirt in a way that made it cling, outlining the curve of your waist. Your hair was messy from the lake breeze, strands stuck to your cheek. You brushed them back casually and—

Jake swallowed.

He turned back to the kids, voice several octaves too high.

“GREAT JOB EVERYONE, LET’S—uh—float!”

It had started small. Then it got worse.

You had a habit of scribbling notes on your palm when you lost your pen. Jake noticed the ink smudge once and spent the rest of the afternoon wondering what you had written. What you were thinking. What you cared about.

Every day, it felt like you were leaving breadcrumbs without even knowing it.

Breadcrumbs Jake kept picking up like an idiot. He often found himself watching you from across the field—telling himself it wasn’t weird, he was just… aware. Vigilant. Noticing. Except it was weird, because he wasn’t noticing anyone else. Only you.

The way you pushed your hair out of your face when the wind blew. The way your shirt rode up when you bent over to pick up stray sports equipment. The way your hands moved when you talked—soft but animated. The way your laughter rolled across the lawn, making the younger kids giggle just because you did.

He tried to stop.

He really did.

But every time you smiled at someone—even a kid—Jake felt that awful, sinking heat curl in his stomach.

At night in the hut, Jake lay on his back, staring at the wooden ceiling while the darkness pressed in around him. 

He remembered the way your shirt clung to your back when you came in from the heat, the thin fabric damp and outlining things he had absolutely no business noticing. He could still see it when he closed his eyes. He remembered the moment you stretched to hang a sign above the craft table, your uniform lifting just enough to reveal the soft line of your waist. He’d looked away immediately—too fast, too guilty—yet the image stuck to the inside of his skull like honey.

He remembered your voice going low and warm when you comforted a kid who scraped their knee.  It wasn’t meant for him, not even close, but it still sank under his skin, unraveling him from the inside out. He remembered walking behind you on the trail, watching how the breeze tugged at the hem of your shorts—how he’d forced himself to stare at the trees instead, counting them like that would save him.

Each memory hit him with the force of something he wasn’t prepared for, something he couldn’t guard against no matter how hard he tried.

And he hated—truly hated—how quickly his thoughts slipped into places they shouldn’t go. Places that made his breath hitch and heat rise under his skin. 

This summer was supposed to save him. Give him distance. Help him reset.

A clean slate. A distraction. A break from feeling too much.

But all it took was you—just you—and Jake was already spiraling. Falling again, harder than ever. 

Jake groaned low in his throat, the sound muffled against the crook of his elbow as he rolled onto his stomach. The thin camp mattress creaked under him like it was judging every pathetic shift of his hips.

The fan whirred uselessly on the nightstand, pushing lukewarm air across his bare back. It did nothing for the heat crawling under his skin—nothing for the way his pulse had taken up permanent residence between his legs.

He pressed his forehead harder into the pillow, trying to smother the images that kept flashing behind his eyelids.

You, laughing after that cannonball contest with the older kids. You, bending to tie a little girl’s shoelace, the curve of your ass filling out those damn camp shorts like they were custom-made to torture him. 

He imagined what it would feel like to slide his palms up under that damp shirt, fingers splaying wide over your ribs, until you arched into him.

Imagined pinning you against the boathouse wall after lights-out, your legs hooked around his waist, while he ground against you—slow at first, then desperate, fabric dragging over his leaking cock until you were both shaking.

His hips rocked once, involuntary, into the mattress. The friction sent a sharp jolt straight up his spine. He bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste copper.

“Fuck,” he whispered into the dark.

He shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t.

But his hand was already moving—sliding down his stomach, past the elastic of his boxers, wrapping around the thick, aching length of himself. He was so hard it hurt; the head flushed dark and slick, smearing precome across his palm the second he touched it.

One slow stroke and his breath punched out of him.

He pictured your mouth instead—soft, parted, tongue flicking out to taste him. Pictured the way your eyes would widen when you realized just how big he was, how you’d have to stretch your lips around the head, cheeks hollowing while you tried to take more. Pictured the little whimper you’d make when he hit the back of your throat, the way your thighs would press together like you were already soaked just from having him in your mouth.

Another stroke—tighter this time, twisting at the crown—and his hips jerked up off the bed.

He imagined flipping you onto your stomach on this very mattress, yanking your shorts down just enough, spreading you open with his thumbs. Imagined the way you’d gasp when he nudged the fat head against your entrance—teasing, barely dipping in—before sinking in until your back bowed and you sobbed his name into the pillow.

“Jake—”

He choked on a whine at the fantasy of you saying it like that—breathless, wrecked, needy.

His fist sped up. The wet, filthy sound of skin on skin filled the tiny cabin, louder than the fan, louder than his breathing. He didn’t care anymore if Heeseung woke up in the next bunk. Didn’t care about anything except chasing the image of you clenching around him, milking him, begging him to come inside, to fill you up.

Heat coiled low and vicious in his gut.

He turned his face into the pillow, muffling the broken moan that tore out of him as he came—hot, messy pulses spilling over his knuckles, soaking into the sheets. His hips bucked through it, chasing every last aftershock, thighs trembling.

Jake lay there for a long minute after, chest heaving, sticky hand still curled loosely around his softening cock. The fan kept droning like nothing had happened. The cabin smelled faintly of pine, sweat, and sex.

He dragged himself up on shaky legs, boxers half-down his thighs, come already cooling on his fingers and streaking the inside of his shorts. He hissed at the mess, at himself, at how pathetic this had become.

The bathroom was just a small stall tacked onto the side of the counselors’ hut— row of sink, flickering bulb, mirror that made everyone look like a zombie at 2 a.m. Jake flicked the light on and winced at his own reflection: flushed cheeks, wild hair, pupils blown wide like he’d been drugged. He looked wrecked. He felt worse.

He turned the faucet to cold and shoved his hand under the stream, scrubbing at the tacky evidence with furious little jerks. Soap foamed pinkish-white down the drain. He kept scrubbing long after it was gone, like he could wash the thoughts out too.

But they came back anyway. Uninvited. Relentless.

His cock twitched against his thigh—already half-interested again, traitor that it was.

“Stop,” he muttered under his breath, gripping the sink edge so hard his knuckles bleached. “Just—fucking stop.” He splashed cold water on his face. It dripped down his neck, soaked the collar of his tank top. Didn’t help. The images kept looping: your thighs parting for him, your fingers in his hair pulling him closer, your voice cracking on his name while he licked into you until you were shaking.

He groaned, low and defeated, forehead thunking against the cool mirror.

He was hard again. Not fully—yet—but enough that the waistband of his boxers tugged uncomfortably. Enough that he could feel the slow, heavy throb returning, insistent, like his body hadn’t gotten the memo that this was supposed to be over.

“You’re disgusting,” he whispered to himself.

The door creaked open behind him.

Jake’s eyes snapped to the mirror.

You.

Standing there in the doorway like a fever dream he hadn’t earned the right to have.

Tiny sleep shorts—barely more than cotton underwear with legs—riding high on your thighs, the hem frayed from too many washes. A thin, worn tank top clinging to you from the humid night air, straps slipping off one shoulder, the fabric so soft and faded it was practically see-through under the shitty bathroom bulb. Your hair was a wild, sleep-tousled mess, strands sticking to your neck from the heat. Flip-flops slapped softly against the tile as you took one hesitant step inside.

You froze when you saw him.

“Jake?” Your voice was sleepy, soft, and surprised. “I—I thought everyone was asleep. I just needed to… brush my teeth or something. Sorry, I didn’t—”

You stopped talking.

Because you’d noticed.

The way he was braced over the sink, shoulders rigid, tank top rucked up from where he’d been gripping the counter. The flush that hadn’t left his cheeks. The obvious, obscene tent in his boxers—thick outline straining against the thin cotton. 

Your eyes widened, pupils blowing out in the dim fluorescent light.

For a split second, the world narrowed to just the two of you: the hum of the fan outside, the drip of the faucet, and the way Jake’s cock twitched visibly under your stare, the fat head pushing insistently against the waistband like it had a mind of its own.

“Shit—fuck—wait—” Jake scrambled, voice cracking high and panicked. He spun half-away from you, one hand flying down to cup himself through the boxers while the other snatched the nearest thing—a thin, ratty hand towel hanging off the rack—and tried to hide it over his crotch like that would somehow erase the last thirty seconds.

The towel was too small. It barely covered anything.

“I—I wasn’t— I mean, this isn’t— fuck, I was just— washing my face! Yeah! Washing my face and— and thinking about— about tomorrow’s schedule! Canoe races! Kids! Lots of kids! Totally innocent!”

The words tumbled out in a frantic, breathless rush. His face was scarlet, ears burning, eyes darting everywhere except your face. He kept shifting his weight, trying to angle his body away, but the mirror betrayed him—every desperate twitch of his hips reflected right back at both of you.

You just stood there, your gaze dropped again to where his hand was futilely trying to shield the bulge. You watched the way his fingers flexed, knuckles white, like he was fighting not to stroke himself right there in front of you.

Jake’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, voice wrecked. “I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t— I’ll go. I’ll just— I’ll leave. Right now. You can— you can have the bathroom. I swear I won’t—”

Jake took a hesitant step forward, trying to sidestep you toward the door, but the bathroom was small and you were right there, blocking the narrow path like you’d grown roots into the tile.

He froze mid-motion, arms hovering awkwardly at his sides. Every inch of him screamed to bolt, but moving meant brushing past you—meant feeling the heat of your body, the soft brush of your bare arm against his, and he couldn’t. He just couldn’t trust himself not to shatter if he touched you right now.

So he stood there. Frozen. Breathing too fast. The air between you thick.

You still didn’t move.

“Uh—” His voice cracked. “Can you—please—just—” He swallowed hard, eyes darting to the door, then back to you.

You tilted your head, just a fraction. Still silent. Still watching.

The silence stretched until it hurt.

Finally, desperation won.

Jake reached out—gentle, careful, like you were made of glass—and placed one trembling hand on your upper arm. His fingers curled lightly around your bicep, warm skin under his palm, soft and fever-hot from the humid night.

The contact hit him like a live wire.

He pushed—just enough to ease you sideways, creating the barest sliver of space—and slipped past you in one frantic, clumsy movement. His shoulder grazed yours. Your arm slid against his chest for half a second. The scent of your skin—coconut, lake water—flooded his lungs.

The door banged shut behind him as he stumbled out into the cool night air. Flip-flops forgotten somewhere on the bathroom floor. Bare feet slapping against the wooden path as he half-ran, half-staggered back toward the hut.

He could still feel you.

The exact imprint of your arm under his palm—soft, yielding, alive. The ghost of your heat lingered on his skin like a brand. Every nerve ending in his hand tingled, replaying the texture, the warmth, the way your muscle flexed just slightly under his touch.

He burst into the hut, door slamming louder than he meant. Heeseung’s soft snores came from the other bunk—thank fuck he was still asleep.

Jake collapsed onto his mattress face-first, heart hammering so hard it hurt.

He pressed his hand—the same hand that had touched you—against his cheek, trying to cool the flush there.

It didn’t work.

Because now all he could think about was how close he’d been. How easy it would’ve been to pull you against him instead of pushing you away. How your skin had felt like silk under his fingers.

His cock throbbed painfully against the mattress, still hard, still leaking, still aching for the one thing he’d just run from.

“Fuck,” he whispered, voice muffled and broken. He was never going to sleep tonight.

Not after… that.

So the next morning, Jake implemented Operation: Avoid you at all costs with military precision.

And he meant it.

He avoided you like you were a live wire and he was barefoot in the rain.

The first new rule: Never be alone with you.

He woke up early—before Heeseung, before the kids, before the mosquitoes even had the decency to start buzzing—just to leave the hut before you could walk by on your usual morning route.

At breakfast, he positioned himself strategically between two tablefuls of kids, knowing you’d never be able to squeeze into the chaos.

During activities, he always made sure another counselor was nearby—someone loud, someone distracting, someone who would prevent you from stepping within arm’s reach.

It worked.

For a few hours.

Then the universe remembered Jake was its favorite target.

And the main problem: You were everywhere.

You walked into the arts-and-crafts cabin to grab paint just as he was slipping out the door. Jake swerved so hard he crashed into a rack of hula hoops.

You laughed softly behind him and Jake nearly ascended into the stratosphere from shame.

Jake was supposed to be supervising the canoe station.

Supposed to be.

Instead, he stood rooted to the dock, gripping his paddle so tightly his knuckles whitened, because across the shoreline—just a few feet away—you were kneeling in the grass helping three little campers tie their life vests.

And the heat was brutal today.

Which meant the camp uniform—already a questionable sin—looked even worse on you. Your shirt clung to every curve. Your shorts were barely shorts at all. Your legs caught the sunlight like it had a personal vendetta against him.

Jake swallowed hard. No—he choked on air.

God, he was so screwed.

You leaned closer to one of the kids, brushing hair from their face. Your shirt dipped. Jake saw far more than he should’ve. His brain immediately short-circuited, crashing like a cheap computer overloaded with images he had no business imagining.

And then his body responded.

Fast. Painfully. Predictably.

Jake inhaled sharply and discreetly tugged his paddle lower, shielding the very visible problem forming in his shorts.

“Dude.”

Heeseung’s voice came from behind him like a death sentence.

Jake jumped. “Wh–what?”

Heeseung leaned his elbow on Jake’s shoulder, smirking like the menace he was.

“You’re staring so hard I’m shocked her clothes haven’t caught fire.”

“I—I wasn’t staring,” Jake stammered, sweating harder than the sun could account for.

“You’re literally drooling.”

“I’M NOT—”

Heeseung just laughed, clapping him on the back. “Bro, you’re gone. Like, beyond gone. NASA couldn’t retrieve your dignity at this point.”

Jake groaned into his hands. “Shut up.”

But it was too late. Heeseung had seen everything—Jake’s flushed face, blown pupils, and the way he kept subtly angling his paddle to hide the mess in his shorts.

Heeseung whistled low. “Wow. She bends over one time and you’re ready to propose marriage?”

“I’m NOT— it’s not— dude, stop talking.”

Heeseung leaned closer, voice dropping. “Then stop looking at her like you want to get on your knees in the middle of the camp.”

Jake choked on his own saliva.

“HEESEUNG!”

“What? I’m just narrating what I’m seeing.”

Jake was going to kill him. Slowly. Painfully. Preferably with a life vest.

Jake, still recovering from the verbal assault that was Heeseung’s commentary, made the single worst mistake of his entire existence.

He looked back at you.

And you were already staring at him.

Not glancing politely. Not half-looking. Not scanning the field. You were focused. Eyes on him like he was something worth noticing—worth studying. Your brows lifted the barest amount, lips soft and parted, like you’d caught him mid-thought… mid-stare… mid-sin.

Jake’s brain detonated.

Full catastrophic system failure.

His throat tightened. His hands numbed. His pulse skyrocketed so violently he wasn’t sure if he was dying or being reborn in the worst possible way.

Because you weren’t just looking at him. You were looking into him.

He felt heat explode across his cheeks, racing down his neck, blooming under his shirt. His heartbeat slammed hard enough to rattle his ribs.

You saw him. You saw him staring. You saw the mess he was trying so desperately, pathetically, humiliatingly hard to hide.

Beside him, Heeseung made a choked noise of triumph—like a man who had just spotted Bigfoot and gotten it on video. 

“Oh my GOD,” he whispered, gleeful as sin. “She’s LOOKING at you—”

And that was it.

Jake panicked. He panicked like someone had just shouted “SHARK!” in knee-deep water.

His grip spasmed.

The paddle slid out of his hands.

“No no no no—” Jake lunged for it.

“DON’T—!” Heeseung snapped, reaching out.

But Jake was already in motion. Already doomed. His foot caught the edge of the dock. His balance tipped backward. His whistle swung up and smacked him in the chin. His sunglasses—how were they even still on—flew off into the air.

Jake grabbed wildly at nothing—truly nothing—because the paddle bounced away from him like it had been training for this moment its whole life. He went down hard, arms flailing, knees buckling, legs pinwheeling like a newborn deer.

And then—

SPLASH.

The sound burst across the entire lake like a small tidal wave. 

Kids shrieked. Counselors gasped. Birds took flight in a panicked cloud overhead. Even the lake seemed offended.

Heeseung made a sound like he was being physically strangled by laughter.

Jake sank beneath the surface with all the grace of a bowling ball. For one long second, he sat there at the bottom of the shallow lake, bubbles drifting up around him as he contemplated every decision that had led to this moment.

Then he kicked up, resurfacing in a violent gasp, sputtering, coughing, eyes wide, looking like a drowned cat that simultaneously regretted every life decision.

But it got worse. Much worse.

Balanced perfectly on top of his head— as if placed there by the comedic gods themselves— was a bright green lily pad.

A lily pad.

On his head.

And sitting comfortably on that lily pad, blinking slowly… was a frog.

A frog.

Jake Sim—camp golden boy, heartbreak survivor, current emotional disaster—was treading water with a literal frog crown.

Kids started laughing. One screamed, “JAKE IS KING OF THE FROGS!”

Heeseung folded onto the dock, wheezing, nearly crying from how hard he was laughing. “Oh—my—god,” he gasped between breaths. “This is the best day of my LIFE.”

Jake spit out lake water. “This isn’t—! I didn’t—! GET IT OFF ME!”

The frog did not get off. It simply adjusted itself, as if settling more comfortably into its throne.

Jake, sputtering and panicked, swiped his hand over his head in a frantic attempt to knock the frog off.

“GO—SHOO—LEAVE ME ALONE—!”

The frog blinked once, unimpressed. Then, with the dignity of a royal being dismissed by an incompetent servant, it hopped off the lily pad and launched itself into the lake beside Jake.

PLIP.

A small, perfectly aimed splash hit Jake right in the face.

Jake shut his eyes, jaw clenching.

Great. Perfect. Amazing.

There went any hope of impressing you. Straight to the bottom of the lake with the lily pad.

He groaned under his breath and swam—miserably—toward the metal ladder bolted to the dock. The water felt colder now, mocking him with each stroke. He grabbed the rungs, dragged himself up rung by rung, boots heavy, clothes clinging to him like a second skin. Dripping. Humiliated. Confidence somewhere downstream, probably floating next to the frog.

The moment he reached the top, two adult counselors rushed over, shoving towels at him.

“Oh my god, Jake, are you hurt?” “Are you okay?” “That was a fall, man.”

“I’m fine,” Jake muttered, rubbing water from his eyes. He was fine. 

Physically. 

Emotionally? He had the confidence level of a damp crouton.

A couple of the other male counselors snickered behind their hands, whispering to each other.  Jake didn’t have to hear the words to know exactly what they were saying. They weren’t exactly subtle. One mimed falling off a dock.  Another did a frog ribbit.

Jake’s jaw tightened. Great. Just great.

He was the newest counselor. The one who was already trying to prove he wasn’t a total walking disaster.

This definitely helped.

Not.

Of course.  He couldn’t even fall into a lake normally…

But none of that mattered.

Because suddenly—

You were there.

Right in front of him.

Where did you even come from? Had you teleported? Materialized from thin air just to make his pulse explode?

“Jake?” you asked softly, stepping closer. “Hey. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Jake forgot how to breathe. He forgot how to stand. He forgot everything.

Because you were looking at him with real concern—warm eyes scanning his face, brow furrowed just a little. Not laughing. Not mocking.

Worried.

About him.

Jake’s heart did a full somersault. And before he could react, you reached up and gently tugged the towel onto his head, fingers brushing his temples. 

“Here,” you murmured. “You’re freezing.”

Jake made a strangled noise.

You started blotting water from his hair, using both hands, the towel rustling softly. You leaned in slightly to reach the back of his head—completely unaware of how absolutely, catastrophically close you were.

Jake went rigid.

Your scent drifted over him—clean laundry, sunscreen, something sweet he couldn’t name. His face hovered dangerously close to your shirt, just inches from your chest, close enough that he could feel the faint warmth radiating from you.

His brain ceased all function.

Thoughts: gone. 

Language: deleted.

Motor skills: offline.

He stared ahead helplessly, praying he wasn’t shaking.

You kept drying his hair, completely focused, completely gentle. “Hold still,” you whispered. “You’ll catch a cold like this.”

Jake tried to respond. He really did. He tried to say, “Thanks,” or “I’m okay,” or literally anything that resembled human speech.

What came out was:

“Ah—gu—h—”

You giggled softly—quiet, warm, like the sound was meant only for him.

The little puff of laughter brushed against his forehead, and Jake’s entire nervous system short-circuited all over again.

You kept drying his hair, gentle fingers working through the wet strands at the back of his head, tugging the towel this way and that. Every small movement seemed to pull you closer. Or maybe he was imagining it. Maybe the universe had decided to personally torture him today.

But no—no, he wasn’t imagining it.

Your chest was definitely inching nearer.

The soft swell of your breasts, barely contained by that thin, slightly damp camp shirt, hovered closer with every careful swipe of the towel. Close enough now that he could see the faint freckles scattered across your collarbone. Close enough that the fabric stretched just a little tighter across your skin. Close enough that when you leaned in to reach the stubborn wet patch at his crown, the very tips of your breasts brushed—barely, feather-light—against his cheek.

Jake’s brain flatlined.

A strangled, high-pitched noise escaped his throat—something between a whimper and a prayer.

Your giggle turned into a soft hum of amusement. “Relax, Jake,” you murmured, voice low and teasing, warm breath ghosting over his temple. “You’re so tense. I’m not gonna bite.”

He wanted to die.

He wanted to live forever.

He wanted both at the same time.

His hands flexed uselessly at his sides, fingers curling into fists so he wouldn’t do something stupid like grab your waist and pull you the rest of the way against him. His face was burning so hot he was sure the lake water was evaporating off his skin in little puffs of steam.

Jake’s eyes squeezed shut.

He was going to pass out.

Right here.

In front of the entire camp.

He could feel his pulse hammering in his ears, in his throat, lower—his shorts suddenly way too tight despite the cold water still dripping down his legs.

You finally pulled back—just enough to look at him, towel still draped over his head like a sad, soggy crown. “There,” you said, smiling that soft, devastating smile. “All better.”

Jake opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

“…Th-thanks,” he managed, voice cracking like a thirteen-year-old’s.

Your eyes sparkled with something dangerously close to mischief.

“Anytime, Jake.” Then you gave the towel one last gentle pat—right on top of his head—and turned to walk away, hips swaying just enough to make sure he watched every step.

Jake stood there, dripping, red-faced, towel askew, heart trying to claw its way out of his chest.

After that towel incident, Jake’s dick officially declared independence.

It had a sixth sense for you now—like a goddamn compass needle snapping toward north the second you walked into a fifty-foot radius. Full traitor mode. Uncontrollable. Radar-locked to your presence like some feral heat-seeking missile.

You walked into the mess hall for lunch? Instant throb in his shorts before you'd even crossed the threshold, straining against the zipper like it could smell your coconut lotion from twenty feet away. He'd cross his legs under the picnic table, fist clenched around his fork, pretending to focus on his mystery meat while visions of bending you over that very table flashed behind his eyes.

You laughed during arts & crafts, that husky ripple carrying across the field? His balls tightened. Cock swelled heavy and hot, leaking into his boxers so fast he felt the wet spot bloom. He'd mutter excuses—"Gotta piss"—and bolt to the nearest bathroom stall, slamming the door and yanking his shorts down. Fist wrapped tight around his throbbing length—veins pulsing, head flushed purple and slick—stroking furious and sloppy while he bit his lip bloody to stay quiet. Imagining your thighs spread wide on the craft table, your pretty cunt clenching around his fingers. 

He'd come with a muffled groan, ropes of thick cum splattering the toilet rim, knees buckling as he slumped against the wall. Only then—only after painting his hand white—would the ache finally ebb enough for him to face the world again.

The worst was the day Heeseung walked in.

Jake had bolted to the hut after free swim, your bikini top had slipped just enough while you adjusted a strap, flashing a sliver of underboob that sent him spiraling. Jake thinking he had the hut to himself — curled on his bunk, shorts shoved to his knees, hand flying over his dick as he pictured you on your knees, tiny shorts pooled at your ankles, mouth stretched wide around his girth. Drool dripping down your chin. Eyes watering as you gagged, taking him deeper.

He was so close—thighs trembling, precome slicking his palm when the door banged open.

Heeseung froze in the doorway, one hand still on the knob, eyes wide.

Jake yelped—high-pitched, mortified—scrambling to yank the sheet over his lap.

"SHIT—HEESEUNG—FUCK—SORRY—"

Heeseung slapped a hand over his eyes, but not before that perv glanced down—clocking the sheer size of it.

“DUDE! WE SHARE THIS SPACE! THERE ARE RULES! AT LEAST WARN A GUY!”

"I'M SORRY—OH GOD, I'M SO SORRY—" Jake babbled, rolling off the bed in a tangle of sheets, cock flopping heavy against his thigh as he tried to hide like a cornered animal, trying to tuck himself away while babbling apologies like a broken record. "It won't happen again—swear—I'll go outside—I'll jerk off in the lake—PLEASE DON'T TELL ANYONE—"

Heeseung backed out, still shielding his eyes, laughing so hard he wheezed. "Chill, virgin! I'm not telling the whole camp you're blue-balling over her. But boundaries, bro! Boundaries!"

Heeseung peeked through his fingers, then dropped his hand with a dramatic sigh. “Bro. You’re jerking it like three times a day now.Your dick’s gonna file for workers’ comp.”

“I know! I know! I’m disgusting! I’m sorry—”

“Bro. Listen to me. You are not disgusting. You are tragically horny. There’s a difference.”

Jake dragged both hands down his face, smearing come across his cheek in the process. He didn’t even notice. “I came in my shorts during swim lessons yesterday. Just—watching her adjust her whistle. I had to dive into the lake to hide it.”

Heeseung barked another laugh. “Classic.”

“No it's not!” Jake wailed, flopping backward onto the floor like a starfish of despair. “I tried thinking about baseball. Taxes. My grandma’s knitting club. Nothing works. It’s like my brain is just… her. All the time. Her smile. Her laugh. The way her hair sticks to her neck when she’s wet from the lake. The way her thighs look when she’s sitting on the dock. I’m gonna die, Heeseung. I’m actually gonna die.”

“Okay, drama queen. First: breathe. Second: you need to do something about this before you actually combust. Or before you get caught jerking it in the supply closet again.”

Jake’s head snapped up. “You know about the supply closet?”

“Dude. Everyone knows about the supply closet. There’s a rumor you’ve christened every shelf in there.”

Jake made a sound like a dying animal and pulled the sheet over his head.

Heeseung snorted, leaning against the doorframe, suddenly way too amused. “You know what the funniest part is?”

Jake groaned into his hands. “Please don’t.”

“She’d probably love your little buddy.”

Jake’s head snapped up. “What?”

Heeseung grinned like the devil. “I’m saying, if she knew how whipped your dick is for her, she’d probably be flattered. Might even wanna meet it. Personally.”

Jake’s brain blue-screened.

With a wordless yell, he launched himself across the room—full football tackle—crashing into Heeseung and sending them both tumbling onto the nearest bunk in a tangle of limbs.

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP—”

Heeseung cackled underneath him, arms up in mock surrender while Jake tried (and failed) to smother him with a pillow. “Okay okay! Truce! Truce! I’m just saying—she’s got you by the balls, man! Literally!”

Jake groaned—long, defeated, the sound of a man who’d lost every battle with his own dignity—and rolled off Heeseung, collapsing face-first onto the bunk mattress like he’d been shot. The pillow stayed clutched to his chest like a shield.

Heeseung sat up, still grinning, brushing imaginary dust off his shirt. “You done trying to murder me?”

Jake’s voice came out muffled into the fabric. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t. You love me. I’m your emotional support wingman.” Heeseung poked him in the ribs with his foot. “Come on, bro. You can’t keep living like this. You’re one accidental brush of her hand away from coming in your shorts in front of the entire camp.”

Jake lifted his head just enough to glare. “I’m handling it.”

“You’re not handling it. You’re jerking off six times a day and jumping me like a feral cat every time I mention her tits. That’s not handling it—that’s a cry for help.”

Jake buried his face again. “Shut up.”

Heeseung sighed dramatically, flopping back onto his own bunk and staring at the ceiling like a philosopher. “Look. I’m saying this as your best friend who has seen you suffer more than any human should: confess. Or at least do something. Ask her to help you ‘check the boathouse inventory’ after lights-out. Corner her behind the craft shed. Hell, just tell her you’ve been thinking about her non-stop since day one and your dick won’t give you a single peaceful moment.”

Jake made a strangled noise.

“I’m serious,” Heeseung pressed. “She’s been looking at you like she knows exactly what’s going on in that horny little head of yours. The towel thing? The eye-fucking across the lake? The way she ‘accidentally’ brushes up against you every five minutes? She’s teasing you, man. She wants you to crack. She’s waiting for you to man up and take what you both clearly want.”

Jake rolled onto his back, staring at the wooden beams overhead. His chest rose and fell too fast. “And what if I’m wrong? What if she’s just… being nice? And I make it weird and ruin everything?”

Heeseung snorted. “Dude. She dried your hair like a mom while her tits were literally in your face. That’s not ‘nice.’ That’s foreplay.”

Jake groaned again, dragging both hands down his face. “Fuck.”

“Exactly. Fuck. Her. Preferably soon. Before your balls explode and we have to explain to the camp director why there’s a crater where you used to be.”

Jake was quiet for a long minute. Then, quieter:

“…What if she says no?”

Heeseung sat up again, suddenly serious. “Then at least you’ll know. And you can stop torturing yourself. But Jake—” He leaned forward, voice dropping. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you when you’re not paying attention. The way her eyes linger. The way she bites her lip when you talk to the kids. She’s not saying no. She’s waiting for you to say yes.”

Jake swallowed hard. His heart was hammering again—not from embarrassment this time, but from something sharper. Hope. Terror. Want.

Heeseung kicked his foot lightly. “So what’s it gonna be, lover boy? Keep hiding? Or finally grow a pair and go get your girl?”

Jake stared at the ceiling for another beat.

Then he sat up slowly, jaw set, eyes a little wild.

“…I’m gonna do it.”

Heeseung’s grin returned full force. “Atta boy. Tonight?”

Jake exhaled shakily. “Tonight?”

The hut suddenly felt too small, the air too thick with the scent of pine and his own unresolved tension. He was still flushed from head to toe, cheeks burning, cock giving a traitorous twitch in his shorts at the mere idea of finally confessing—of touching you, kissing you, burying himself so deep inside you that neither of you could think straight. But first, he had to actually get you alone. How hard could that be? He’d spent the last week dodging you like a pro; reversing it should be easy, right?

Heeseung, sensing Jake's hesitation like a shark smelling blood, hopped off his bunk and grabbed a crumpled notepad from the nightstand—the one they used for doodling dumb canoe race strategies. "Alright, lover boy, let's strategize. We're not sending you in blind. This is Operation Get Jake Laid—er, I mean, Confessed. Whatever..."

Jake rubbed his palms on his thighs like he could wipe away the nervous sweat. "Okay. Plan. Good. What's the move?"

Heeseung paced the narrow space between the bunks, tapping the notepad with a chewed-up pen like he was a general mapping out a battlefield. "First things first: timing. Tonight's the bonfire sing-along after dinner. Everyone's gonna be there—kids roasting marshmallows, staff pretending not to hate 'Kumbaya' for the hundredth time. That's your window. Chaos equals opportunity. You slip away early, say you're grabbing extra firewood or some bullshit. I'll create a distraction—maybe 'accidentally' knock over the s'mores station. Kids go nuts, staff scrambles, and boom—you pull her aside to the boathouse path. It's dark, secluded, romantic as fuck with the lake view. Confess there. Worst case, if she rejects you, you can jump in the water and drown your sorrows."

Jake nodded slowly, picturing it. The boathouse—dim moonlight filtering through the trees, the soft lap of water against the dock. You standing there, close enough to touch, your eyes widening as he finally spilled it all: how he couldn't stop thinking about you, how every brush of your skin made his brain melt and his cock ache, how he wanted to drop to his knees and worship you until you were the one begging. His breath hitched. "Yeah. That... that could work. But how do I get her to follow me? Just... ask?"

Heeseung snorted. "Subtlety, man. Walk by her during the fire, lean in close—like, whisper something about needing help with 'inventory' in the boathouse. Make it sound urgent but flirty. You've got that puppy-dog charm; use it. Girls eat that shit up. And if she hesitates, flash those dimples. Bam. She's hooked."

Jake ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots. "Okay. Distraction. Whisper. Boathouse. Got it." He stood again, pacing now himself. "What if someone's with her? She's always got a kid hanging off her or one of the other counselors chatting her up. Remember yesterday? She was braiding hair for like six girls at once during free time."

Heeseung waved it off. "That's why the bonfire's perfect. Everyone's scattered. I'll scout ahead—make sure the path's clear. If there's interference, I'll run blocker. Pretend I need her friend's help with something dumb, like fixing the guitar strings. Easy."

They spent the next twenty minutes hashing out contingencies: If the bonfire ran late, pivot to the morning hike trail before breakfast. If rain hit (unlikely, but summer storms were sneaky), use the supply shed as backup—cozy, private, full of ropes and tarps that Jake's filthy mind immediately twisted into fantasies he had to shove down before Heeseung noticed his shorts tenting again. Heeseung even drew a crude map on the notepad: X for bonfire, arrow to boathouse, stick-figure Jake with hearts for eyes confessing to stick-figure you.

By the time they finished, Jake felt a fragile buzz of confidence. "Alright. This is solid. Thanks, man."

Heeseung fist-bumped him. "Go get cleaned up. And hey—don't chicken out. You've got this."

Jake nodded, grabbing a fresh towel and heading to the showers. Under the lukewarm spray, he tried to psych himself up, but his hand drifted south anyway—wrapping around his half-hard cock, stroking slow as he imagined your reaction. Your lips parting in surprise, then curling into a smile. Your hands pulling him closer. Your thighs wrapping around his waist as he pinned you against the boathouse wall, cock sinking into your tight heat until you were whimpering his name. He came with a choked groan, cum mixing with the water swirling down the drain. Tonight, he promised himself. No more running.

But as dinner rolled around, the plan started crumbling like a stale graham cracker.

You were at the head table, surrounded by a gaggle of giggling preteens who'd apparently declared you their queen. They were all over you—handing you plates, showing off friendship bracelets they'd made "just for you," dragging you into their drama about who kissed who. Jake hovered at the edge of the mess hall, plate in hand, watching like a creeper. Every time he thought about approaching, another kid popped up. Heeseung shot him a thumbs-up from across the room, mouthing "After eating."

Post-dinner cleanup? You volunteered to help the kitchen staff, elbow-deep in soapy water with two other female counselors, chatting and laughing about some inside joke. Jake lingered outside the window like a stalker, pretending to tie his shoe for the third time. Heeseung wandered by, whispering, "Abort. Bonfire next."

The bonfire crackled to life as the sun dipped low, casting orange glows over everyone's faces. Kids clustered around the fire pit, staff scattered on logs and blankets. Jake scanned the crowd—there you were, sandwiched between a hyper ten-year-old boy telling ghost stories and one of the senior counselors, a chatty guy named Sunghoon who kept leaning in way too close to "share" his marshmallows. Jake's jaw clenched. Fuck. He circled once, twice, trying to catch your eye for the whisper ploy, but every approach was blocked: a kid running by with sparklers, the camp director calling everyone for the first song, Heeseung's distraction (a fake spill of chocolate syrup that only drew more people over).

"Pst—Jake!" Heeseung hissed from behind a tree as the group launched into a off-key "The Wheels on the Bus." 

"New plan: Wait 'til s'mores wind down. I'll lure Sunghoon away—say I need help with the canoes for tomorrow. You swoop in then."

Jake nodded, heart pounding. But s'mores time turned into chaos: Sticky fingers everywhere, kids demanding seconds, you organizing a impromptu "s'mores assembly line" with half the staff involved. By the time it quieted, the director announced lights-out in fifteen, and you were already herding your cabin group toward the bunks, arms linked with two girls who wouldn't let go.

Jake deflated against a log, watching your silhouette disappear into the trees. Heeseung plopped down next to him, clapping his back. "Tough break. Tomorrow, then. Early bird gets the worm—or the girl alone."

But tomorrow was worse.

Morning hike: You were at the front of the pack with the lead guide, pointing out birds and plants to an enraptured cluster of kids. Jake hung back, trying to work his way forward, but the trail was narrow, and every time he got close, someone needed water or a bug bite check. Heeseung tried distracting the guide with questions, but it backfired—drawing you into the conversation instead.

Arts and crafts: You were manning the bead station, kids swarming like bees. Jake "casually" wandered over to the paint area nearby, but before he could signal, a little girl dragged you away to judge her macaroni necklace.

Swim time: You were on lifeguard duty with three others, perched on the dock in that red one-piece that hugged every curve, whistle around your neck. Jake swam laps to "cool off," planning to ask for your help with "equipment" after. But post-swim, you got roped into a volleyball game on the beach—surrounded by laughing staff and kids spiking the ball like noobs.

By lunch, Jake was fraying. He and Heeseung huddled in the hut during siesta, notepad out again. "This is insane," Jake muttered, head in hands. "It's like the universe is cockblocking me now! She's never alone. Avoiding her was easy enough—getting her isolated? Fucking impossible!!"

Heeseung tapped the pen thoughtfully. "She's popular. Kids love her, staff loves her. We need stealth. New plan: Fake an injury during archery this afternoon. Nothing bad—twisted ankle or some shit. Ask her specifically to help you to the first-aid cabin. It's private, got that cot in the back. Confess there. I'll cover your group."

Jake's eyes lit up. "That's... genius. Yeah. Let's do it."

Archery rolled around. Jake "tripped" mid-demo—dramatic groan, clutching his ankle like he'd been shot. The kids gasped; staff rushed over. "I'm good, just—ah, shit—twisted it. Hey, can someone grab Y/n? She's great with this stuff."

But fate laughed. You were already there, kneeling beside him with concern etching your pretty face—but so was half the camp. The director insisted on two people helping him limp to the cabin, and a nurse volunteer tagged along. Inside, it was a circus: Ice packs, questions, kids peeking in the door. No alone time. The "injury" fizzled out fast—Jake had to fake recovery to avoid real medical attention.

Dinner: More crowds. 

Evening games: You refereed capture the flag, untouchable, no time alone.

By nightfall, Jake was back in the hut, collapsed on his bunk, cock throbbing painfully from a day of near-misses and pent-up fantasies. Every glimpse of you—bending to tie a shoe, laughing with wind-tousled hair—had him hard and leaking again. He'd jerked off twice already, once in the woods mid-hike (hiding behind a tree, fist flying as he imagined pinning you against it, rutting into your soaked pussy while you muffled moans into his neck), once in the shower (coming to the thought of you on that lifeguard chair, legs spread, his face buried between them until you squirted on his tongue).

Heeseung flopped down, undeterred. "Alright, Plan Z: Tomorrow's the talent show prep. She's emceeing. I'll sign us up for a 'duet' or something dumb—get you backstage with her. Private green room vibes."

Jake groaned, rolling over. "If this doesn't work, I'm quitting camp. Moving to Antarctica. Penguins don't tempt me."

Heeseung laughed. "Hang in there. She's worth the blue balls."

But as Jake drifted off, dick still half-chubbed under the sheets, he wondered if he'd survive another day of this torture. Getting you alone wasn't just hard—it was a goddamn quest. And he was more desperate than ever to win.

The talent show prep turned out to be another spectacular disaster in Jake's ongoing saga of blue-balled misery. He and Heeseung had signed up for a "duet"—some half-assed acoustic cover of an old camp song that Jake could barely strum through without his fingers shaking from nerves. The plan was simple: Get backstage with you during rehearsals, where you'd be organizing the lineup. The "green room" was really just a curtained-off corner of the main pavilion, cluttered with props and folding chairs—private enough for a quick confession, or at least a stuttered invitation to talk later. Heeseung would "forget" his guitar picks or something, leaving Jake alone with you for those precious few minutes.

But reality? A shitshow. The pavilion was packed with hyper kids practicing their acts: Little girls twirling batons, boys doing awkward magic tricks, a group of teens attempting a rap battle that devolved into giggles. You were in the thick of it, clipboard in hand, directing traffic like a pro—smiling that soft, devastating smile as you adjusted a kid's costume or gave a thumbs-up to a nervous singer. Jake lurked at the edge, guitar slung over his shoulder, heart hammering so loud he was sure the strings were vibrating from it. When Heeseung finally nudged him forward during a break, Jake approached, mouth dry. "Hey, uh..." he managed, voice cracking like he was back in puberty. You straightened up, turning with that warm gaze that made his knees weak. "Need help with... with the script? Or something?"

You blinked, then laughed softly—god, that sound went straight to his balls. "Actually, yeah! Can you hold this for a sec?" You thrust the clipboard at him, your fingers brushing his in the handoff. Electric. His dick twitched hard, thickening instantly like it knew exactly who was touching him. But before he could stammer out anything resembling a confession, a swarm of kids descended: "Miss, my hat fell off!" "Can I go next?" "Look at my dance!" You were pulled away in a whirlwind of tiny hands and excited chatter, leaving Jake standing there with the clipboard pressed awkwardly against his crotch to hide the growing bulge. Heeseung shot him a sympathetic shrug from across the room, but the moment was gone. Rehearsal ended with Jake barely exchanging three words with you beyond "Here you go" when you reclaimed the board.

That night, back in the hut, Jake jerked off furiously under the sheets—fist pumping his thick cock in brutal strokes. He came with a muffled groan, cum spilling hot over his knuckles, but the relief was temporary. Hollow. He needed the real thing.

The next day brought more failures, each one chipping away at Jake's sanity like a dull axe. Morning yoga session by the lake: You were leading a group stretch, and Jake "casually" joined, positioning himself in the back row for a view that nearly killed him—your body bending into downward dog, ass up, shorts clinging to every curve. His cock went rock-hard in seconds, throbbing painfully against his thigh. 

The plan was to linger after, ask for "private tips" on his form. But as the group dispersed, Sunghoon—that tall, smug bastard with the perfect hair and easy charm—sauntered over, slinging an arm around your shoulders like he owned the place. "Hey, great class. Wanna grab coffee from the mess hall? I could use some pointers too." You laughed, nodded, and walked off with him, leaving Jake frozen.

Afternoon canoe races: Heeseung rigged it so Jake's team "needed" your help as a spotter on the dock. But the races turned chaotic—kids capsizing, laughter echoing, and you ended up knee-deep in the water, helping flip boats and towel off soaked campers. Jake paddled close, ready to "accidentally" bump your section and pull you aside, but Sunghoon appeared again, "helping" by lifting you out of the water with his hands on your waist—your wet shirt clinging transparently to your breasts. Jake's vision tunneled red. Alarms blared in his head: Red zone. Danger. Back off. He paddled away furiously, beaching the canoe and disappearing into the boathouse for a frantic wank.

Evening campfire stories: Heeseung's new ploy—start a "scary tale" chain and "need" you to sit next to Jake for "moral support." But you arrived flanked by staff, including Sunghoon, who plopped down beside you first, sharing a blanket and whispering something that made you giggle. Jake sat across the fire, staring daggers, his dick traitorously hardening at the sight of your lips curving into that smile—even if it was for someone else. The alarms in his head screamed louder: He's too close. Touching her knee. Fuck him. 

Jake excused himself early, claiming a headache, and jerked off in the hut. 

The failures piled up like a cruel joke. 

By mid-week, Jake was a wreck—eyes bloodshot from sleepless nights. Heeseung was fraying too, his pep talks turning exasperated. "Dude, this is ridiculous. She's like a magnet for people. And Sunghoon? That guy's orbiting her like a fucking moon. Saw him 'accidentally' bump her during volleyball yesterday—hand on her ass for a second too long. If you don't do something soon, he's gonna beat you to it."

Possessive heat curled low in his gut, twisting with jealousy until he felt physically sick.

“I’m done, man,” he mumbled, voice cracking. “I’m done. She’s too busy. Too liked. Everyone wants a piece of her—kids, counselors, fucking Sunghoon. I can’t even get close without someone interrupting. Penguins in Antarctica sound better than this torture. They don’t have perfect tits and laugh like angels and make my dick try to escape my body every five seconds.”

Heeseung flopped backward onto his own bunk, arms spread wide, staring up at the wooden ceiling beams like they held the answers to life’s greatest mysteries.

“Maybe,” he conceded, tone dry. “But watching Sunghoon get closer? That’s the cherry on top of this shit sundae. Alarms are blaring for a reason, bro. Red zone. Full red alert. If he makes a move first…”

Jake’s fists clenched so hard his knuckles bleached white. The thought hit him like a punch to the solar plexus—Sunghoon’s perfect, smug face leaning in, lips brushing yours, hands sliding under your tank top to cup your breasts while you arched into him with that soft little gasp Jake had only heard in his filthiest dreams. Sunghoon’s cock—probably average, probably nothing like Jake’s—pushing into your perfect, tight, dripping pussy, stretching you open while you moaned his name instead of Jake’s.

The image was so vivid Jake could almost hear it: the wet slap of skin, your breathy whimpers, Sunghoon’s low groan as he bottomed out inside you. Jake’s vision tunneled red while his heart hammered with a mixture of murderous jealousy and bone-deep despair.

“I can’t,” he whispered, voice raw. “I can’t watch him touch her. I can’t watch him make her smile like that. I can’t—I’ll fucking die, Heeseung. I’ll actually die.”

Heeseung watched Jake unravel for a long moment—fists clenched, eyes glassy, breathing too fast—like the guy was one wrong word away from either punching a wall or bursting into tears. Finally, Heeseung sighed, long and dramatic, and flopped back onto his bunk with the air of a man who had officially thrown in the towel.

“Alright,” he said, voice flat, resigned. “Fine. You win. She’s untouchable. Sunghoon’s probably already got his tongue down her throat behind the craft shed or whatever. Let’s just… move on. There are other fish in the lake, right? Plenty of hot counselors who aren’t currently being fought over by every breathing person in a ten-mile radius.”

Jake didn’t respond. He just stared at the ceiling, jaw so tight it looked painful.

Heeseung kept going anyway, ticking names off on his fingers like he was reading from a mental catalog.

“There’s Minji from the arts cabin—tall, legs for days, always smells like vanilla and paint thinner. She’s got that whole ‘quietly unhinged artist’ vibe. Could be fun.”

Nothing from Jake. Just a slow blink.

“Or Yuna,” Heeseung continued, undeterred. “Lifeguard duty with her would be a religious experience. She’s got abs you could grate cheese on and that little mole right under her left eye? Deadly. She smiled at me once during relay races and I forgot how to swim.”

Still nothing. Jake’s breathing was shallow, like he was trying not to hyperventilate.

Heeseung rolled onto his side, propping his head on one hand. “Chaeryeong’s single now, too. The one with the short black hair and the lip piercing? She’s got that ‘I could ruin your life and you’d thank me’ energy. Probably bites. You like biting, right?”

Jake’s voice came out small, cracked. “Stop.”

Heeseung ignored him.

“Or hell—go for someone completely different. Jiwoo from the mess hall. She’s sweet, makes those killer brownies, always smells like cinnamon. Zero drama. Zero competition. She’d probably bake you cookies after you fuck. Low stakes. Safe.”

Jake’s fists clenched harder. His knuckles were white.

Heeseung kept listing, voice getting flatter with each name.

“Soojin. The one who teaches archery. Quiet, deadly accurate, thighs that could crush a watermelon. She’d probably pin you to the target board and have her way with you. Hot, right?”

Jake’s breathing hitched.

“Or Hyein. Blonde, always in those little sundresses, giggles at everything. Easy. No baggage. She’d probably blush the whole time and call you ‘oppa’ while you—”

“Stop.”

The word ripped out of Jake like a gunshot.

Heeseung finally went quiet.

Jake sat up slowly—elbows on his knees, head in his hands, shoulders hunched like he was trying to fold in on himself.

“None of them are her,” he whispered, voice raw and trembling. “None of them laugh the way she does. None of them smell like coconut and lake water and summer. None of them look at the kids the way she does—like they hung the fucking moon. None of them make my chest hurt just by existing in the same zip code.”

He dragged his hands down his face, hard enough to leave red marks.

“I don’t want Jiwoo’s brownies or Yuna’s abs or Chaeryeong’s lip piercing or any of it. I want her. I want her smile. I want her teasing me across the mess hall. I want her thighs wrapped around my waist. I want her moaning my name. I want to wake up every morning and see her marks on my neck and know I put them there.”

He looked up at Heeseung—eyes red-rimmed, voice cracking on every word.

“And if Sunghoon gets there first… if he touches her, if he kisses her, if he makes her come… I’m gonna lose it. I’m gonna fucking break. Because she’s supposed to be mine. She’s always been mine. And I’m too much of a coward to do anything about it.”

Jake's life really sucked sometimes.

Jake’s blood ran hot and cold at the same time.

Fifteen minutes after lights-out, the camp had fallen into that soft, cricket-laced quiet. He was supposed to be in his own hut, following Heeseung’s latest desperate plan: wait until tomorrow’s canoe trip, “accidentally” capsize near you, then use the chaos to pull you aside on the far shore. Simple. Safe. Controlled.

Instead, he was crouched behind the big pine tree that overlooked the girls’ row of huts, heart slamming against his ribs like it wanted out.

Because he’d seen you.

You stepping out of your cabin door, hair loose and messy from the day, wearing that oversized camp hoodie that swallowed your frame and those tiny shorts that barely existed. And Sunghoon right there beside you—close enough that his shoulder brushed yours when you laughed at whatever smooth bullshit he’d just said. The two of you lingered on the porch for what felt like an eternity: heads bent together, your hand brushing his arm once—twice—before he leaned in and murmured something that made you smile that soft, devastating smile.

Jake’s stomach twisted into a green, burning knot.

Then Sunghoon gave you a lazy, smug little wave—fingers lingering in the air like he owned the right to touch you—and sauntered off toward the boys’ side, hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed like a man who knew he was winning.

You watched him go for a second.

Then you turned, slipped back inside your hut, and closed the door.

Jake didn’t think.

He just moved.

His feet carried him across the pine-needle path before his brain could catch up. Every step felt like stepping off a cliff. Alarms blared louder in his head—not the jealous ones this time, but the: “this is insane, you’re going to get fired, you’re going to ruin everything” ones. 

He ignored them.

The door to your hut was in front of him, he tested the handle—quiet, careful—and it gave easily under his palm.

He pushed the bug net aside with trembling fingers and slipped inside.

The air hit him like a drug.

Warm. Sweet. Coconut sunscreen mixed with vanilla body lotion and the faint smoky trace of the bonfire that had clung to your clothes all night. Candles flickered on the small wooden table near the window—three of them, soft golden light dancing across the walls, turning everything hazy and intimate. The scent of melting wax and you wrapped around him so completely he nearly groaned out loud.

And there you were.

Standing with your back to him.

Undressing.

The oversized hoodie was already off, pooled at your feet. You were shimmying out of the khaki shorts, letting them slide down your legs until they puddled around your ankles.

All that was left were the tiniest pair of lacy panties—white, delicate, the kind with little satin ribbons. The fabric hugged the perfect curve of your ass, barely covering anything, the lace so sheer he could see the shadow of skin beneath.

You reached for the thin cotton sleep top folded on the edge of your bunk. No bra. Nothing underneath. Just soft, bare skin and the gentle sway of your breasts as you lifted your arms to pull the top over your head.

Jake’s mouth went dry.

He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from making a sound.

You hadn’t noticed him yet.

You were humming softly under your breath—some little tune from the campfire—completely unaware that he was standing in the doorway, staring like a man starved.

The green monster in his chest roared louder than ever.

She was alone.

No Sunghoon. No kids. No staff. Just you. In lace panties. 

And Jake—desperate, defeated, possessive, aching Jake—finally snapped.

He stepped forward.

The floorboard creaked.

Your humming stopped.

You froze, hands still tangled in the hem of your sleep top.

Slowly—agonizingly—you turned.

Your eyes widened when they landed on him.

“Jake…?” Your voice was barely a whisper, soft and surprised and a little breathless.

He didn’t move. Every muscle was locked tight, gaze raking over you like he was trying to memorize every inch before you screamed or told him to get out.

Your nipples were visible through the thin cotton of the top—hard little peaks that made his mouth water. The lace panties clung to you, the fabric already darkened slightly between your thighs.

You didn’t cover yourself. You didn’t scream.

You just stared back at him—eyes wide, lips parted, cheeks flushing a deep, telling pink.

And then, so quietly he almost missed it:

“…You’re not supposed to be here.”

But you didn’t tell him to leave.

And Jake—heart in his throat, cock throbbing so hard it hurt—took another step closer.

“I know,” he rasped, voice wrecked. “But I couldn’t… I couldn’t stay away anymore.”

Jake took that final, trembling step forward, crossing the threshold completely into your hut. The wooden door swung shut behind him with a soft, definitive thud that echoed in the quiet space like a heartbeat.

He reached back without looking—fingers finding the simple metal latch—and slid it home.

Click.

The sound was small, but it rang out sharp and clear in the candlelit hush. No one could walk in now. No interruptions. Just the two of you.

Your breath caught audibly—a tiny, startled hitch that made Jake’s cock jump hard in his shorts. He watched the way your eyes widened fractionally, pupils blowing out in the flickering light. Your lips parted on a soft, involuntary exhale. You didn’t move to stop him. Didn’t protest. If anything, your body language shifted—shoulders relaxing just a touch, thighs pressing together almost imperceptibly.

The thrill of it surged through him like lightning.

You liked the sound of that lock.

You liked being trapped in here with him.

Jake’s pulse roared in his ears. His hands flexed at his sides, aching to touch you, but he forced himself to stay still for one more second, drinking in the sight of you like a man who’d been starving for years.

Jake’s voice came out rough, almost broken. “You didn’t tell me to leave.”

Your gaze flicked to the locked door, then back to his face. Your tongue darted out to wet your bottom lip and Jake nearly groaned out loud at the sight.

“I know,” you whispered, voice soft and a little shaky, but there was heat underneath it. “I… I didn’t want to.”

Another step. Closer now. Close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating off your body, smell that intoxicating mix of coconut and vanilla and you.

His eyes dropped to your chest again—couldn’t help it—watching the way your breasts rose and fell with each quick breath. Then lower, to the lace clinging to your hips. “I’ve been going fucking insane,” he rasped, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “Every time I see you… every time you smile, or laugh, or bend over, or just exist… I get so hard it hurts. I can’t think straight. I can’t sleep… I can’t stop wanting you.”

Your thighs pressed together and a tiny, needy sound escaped your throat.

Jake took one more step. Now he was close enough to touch. Close enough that if either of you leaned forward even slightly, your bodies would meet. He lifted one shaking hand, hovering it near your cheek—giving you every chance to pull away.

You didn’t.

Instead, you tilted your head just enough that your cheek brushed his palm. Soft. Warm. Perfect.

His thumb traced the line of your jaw, slow and reverent.

“I saw you with Sunghoon tonight,” he admitted, voice low and raw. “Laughing. Touching his arm. Smiling at him like that. It fucking killed me. I wanted to drag him away and show him you’re mine.”

Your eyes fluttered half-shut at the rough edge in his voice, but the corner of your mouth curled—just a tiny, wicked little tilt that made Jake’s heart stutter.

“Yours?” you echoed softly, voice breathy and teasing, like you were tasting the word. Your cheek stayed pressed to his palm, nuzzling ever so slightly into his touch. “That’s a pretty big claim, Jake… especially when you’ve barely said two words to me all week.” You tilted your head further, letting your lips brush the pad of his thumb—barely a kiss, more like a ghost of one. Just enough to make his breath hitch audibly. “I mean,” you continued, voice dropping lower, silkier, “if I’m yours… then why did Sunghoon get to make me laugh tonight? Why did he get to walk me back to my hut? Why did he get to touch me right—” You lifted your hand and traced one fingertip down the length of his forearm, following the tense line of muscle. “—here?”

Jake’s entire body locked up. A low, guttural sound rumbled in his chest—half growl, half plea.

You leaned in closer, lips hovering just shy of his, so close he could feel the warmth of your breath against his mouth. “Were you jealous, puppy?” you whispered, the pet name slipping out sweet and cruel at the same time. “Did it hurt watching him get so close? Did you imagine ripping him away and fucking me right there on the porch so he’d know who I really belong to?”

That was it.

The last thread of Jake’s restraint snapped like a cheap string. With a broken, desperate groan he surged forward—hands clamping around your waist like iron bands, yanking you flush against him so hard your feet left the floor for a split second. His mouth crashed down on yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle.

It was filthy. Starving. All teeth and tongue and weeks of pent-up obsession pouring out at once. He kissed you like he was trying to devour you—lips bruising yours, tongue plunging deep to taste every corner of your mouth, swallowing the soft, surprised moan you let out. One hand slid up your back, fingers tangling roughly in your hair to angle your head exactly how he wanted.

His other hand slid down your body with rough, greedy purpose—fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass through the thin lace of your panties. He squeezed hard, kneading the curve like he was trying to imprint himself into your skin.

A low, broken groan vibrated against your lips as he rolled his hips forward—slow at first, testing, savoring—then harder, more insistent. The thick, heavy length of his cock dragged against your lace-covered pussy with every grind, the rigid heat of him pressing right where you were already soaked and aching. 

“Fuck—” he gasped into your mouth, voice wrecked and trembling. “You feel that? That’s all for you. Been like this for weeks.” He ground again—deeper this time, hips snapping forward in a filthy rhythm that made your clit throb against the swollen head of his cock through the layers. 

Jake’s control was unraveling fast. His brain was gone—completely hijacked by the pulsing, aching need between his legs. His dick had taken over like some feral puppet master, yanking every string, making his hips buck harder, faster, more erratic. He couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to. “Shit—shit, baby—” he panted, forehead dropping to your shoulder, teeth scraping over your collarbone. “Can’t—can’t think—need you so bad it hurts—fuck, you’re so wet, I can feel it through everything—”

He was shaking now—whole body trembling with the effort of holding back, but his hips wouldn’t listen. They kept grinding, kept fucking against you like he was already inside, like he could come just from this alone. One particularly hard thrust had you gasping and Jake whimpered. A real, broken, needy sound that he couldn’t swallow back.

“S-sorry—fuck, I’m sorry—” he babbled against your neck, but he didn’t stop. “Just—need to feel you—need to—gonna come like this if you don’t stop me—please—”

You didn’t stop him.

Instead, you leaned in closer—lips brushing the shell of his ear—and whispered, soft and wicked, “Come like this, Jake. Right here. Make a mess for me.”

That was all it took.

He came hard—so hard—hot, thick pulses spilling into his shorts, soaking through the fabric in heavy, obscene spurts. A long, wrecked moan vibrated against your neck, muffled into your skin as he shuddered through every wave, hips stuttering, cock jerking with each rope of cum that painted the inside of his shorts. “F-fuck—oh god—baby—” he babbled, voice cracking, tears pricking the corners of his eyes from how intense it was. 

When the last pulse finally ebbed, he sagged against you—forehead dropping to your shoulder, chest heaving like he’d run a marathon. 

You didn’t let him catch his breath.

Your fingers tightened in his hair again—harder this time—and you pulled his head back just enough to crash your mouth against his in a deep, filthy kiss.

Jake moaned into it—loud, devastated, the sound vibrating against your tongue. He kissed you back desperately, sloppy and needy, letting you lead. His tongue slid against yours, tasting faintly of salt and desperation, and when you tugged his hair again—sharp, possessive—he made the most broken, wrecked noise from the back of his throat. You pulled him with you, guiding him backward step by stumbling step until the backs of his knees hit the edge of your bunk.

One firm push, and he went down.

He landed on the mattress with a soft oof, legs splayed, chest still heaving. The kiss broke with a wet, obscene sound—strings of saliva connecting your lips for a heartbeat before snapping.

Jake stared up at you, dazed and utterly ruined. His hair was a wild mess—strands sticking to his sweaty forehead, eyes huge and glassy with that big, pleading puppy look that made your stomach flip. Drool glistened on his swollen, kiss-bitten lips and ran in a thin line down his chin. His cheeks were flushed dark red, pupils blown so wide they were almost black.

And between his legs—

The incriminating wet stain on his shorts was massive. Dark, spreading across the front, clinging to the thick outline of his cock. Even now—after coming so hard he’d nearly blacked out—there was still a heavy, obscene bulge there. His dick hadn’t gone down at all. If anything, it looked even thicker, twitching visibly under the soaked fabric like it was already begging for more.

You slid down slowly, your knees hitting the worn wooden floor of the hut with a soft thud that seemed to echo, Jake’s breath punched out of him in a sharp, shaky exhale as he watched you settle between his spread thighs, your hands resting lightly on the tops of his knees.

“Fuck,” he whispered, voice cracking. His hands flexed uselessly at his sides, like he didn’t know whether to reach for you or grip the sheets to keep himself grounded.

You looked up at him through your lashes—eyes dark, lips parted—and hooked your fingers into the waistband of his ruined shorts. The fabric was soaked through, clinging obscenely to his skin, the dark stain spreading from the thick outline of his cock all the way down his inner thighs.

You tugged.

Jake lifted his hips on instinct, helping you drag the shorts and boxers down in one pull. The elastic caught for a second on the swollen head of his dick before snapping free, and then he was bare—springing up against his stomach with a wet slap.

His cock was thick, veiny, flushed an angry dark pink at the base and deeper at the tip where precome still leaked in steady, glistening beads. The length curved slightly upward, heavy and throbbing, the slit weeping openly. Cum from his earlier release still streaked the shaft in pearly ropes, mixing with fresh precome to make everything slick and shiny.

You gasped involuntarily, eyes widening as you took him in fully.

Jake’s entire body tensed. His face flushed deeper, a wave of self-consciousness crashing over him even as his dick twitched violently at the sound. “Shit—sorry—I know it’s… it’s a lot, I get it, I can—” The words tumbled out in a frantic, breathless ramble, hands fluttering like he wanted to cover himself. “I didn’t mean to—fuck, I can go if it’s too much, I don’t want to—” His babbling choked off into a strangled, high whimper the second your fingers wrapped around him.

Your grip was warm and perfect, circling the thick base where your thumb and fingers barely met. You gave one slow, experimental stroke upward, and Jake’s hips jerked up off the mattress like he’d been shocked.

Then you leaned in.

And kissed the tip. 

Just a gentle press of your lips to the swollen, leaking head, tasting salt and him on your tongue.

Jake’s head fell back against the pillow with a broken, devastated moan—long and raw, the sound tearing from deep in his chest. His hands flew to the sheets, knuckles bleaching white as he gripped them hard enough to tear fabric.

You lingered—lips still brushing the sensitive slit, letting your tongue flick out in a swipe to collect the fresh bead of precome that had welled up the moment your mouth touched him. The taste of him burst across your tongue: salty, musky, unmistakably Jake. 

A high, broken whine tore from his throat—raw and helpless—and his hips bucked upward, pushing the swollen head past your lips just enough for you to feel how hot and velvet-hard he was against your tongue. “F-fuck—oh god—please—” His voice cracked, trembling on every syllable. Veins pulsing along his forearms where his hands gripped the sheets like a lifeline. Knuckles white. Fingers shaking. 

You hummed softly around the tip—barely a vibration—and Jake’s head snapped forward. His eyes flew open, glassy and wide, pupils blown so huge they swallowed the hazel entirely. He looked wrecked: cheeks flushed dark, mouth hanging open, drool shining on his chin, messy hair plastered to his sweaty forehead. That big, pleading puppy stare locked onto you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to earth.

“Baby—shit—I can’t—I’m gonna—” 

You pulled back just enough to speak—lips still brushing the head, breath hot against the slick skin. “Shh,” you murmured, voice low and soothing, almost teasing. “I’ve got you.”

Then you took him deeper.

Just the tip at first—lips wrapping around the fat, flushed crown, tongue swirling slow circles over the slit while your hand stroked the base in long, firm pulls. Jake’s moan was immediate and devastating—long, ragged, breaking into little whimpers every time your tongue flicked the sensitive underside. 

“Oh fuck—oh fuck—your mouth—baby, your mouth—” The words dissolved into another whine as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking gently, letting your tongue press flat against the underside and drag back up in one slow, wet stroke.

Fresh precome flooded your mouth. His cock throbbed so hard you felt it against your tongue, thick veins pulsing under your grip. You could taste how close he already was again—how the earlier orgasm had done nothing to take the edge off, only made him more sensitive, more desperate.

One of his hands flew to your hair—fingers tangling gently at first, then gripping tighter as he fought not to push. “Please—please—don’t stop—gonna—gonna come again—fuck, I’m sorry, I can’t—”

You answered by taking him deeper still—half his length sliding into the wet heat of your mouth, lips stretching wide around his girth. Your tongue worked relentlessly—swirling, pressing, lapping at the underside while your hand stroked what you couldn’t fit.

Jake’s back bowed off the mattress. A strangled cry ripped from his chest—high and broken—and his thighs trembled violently around you.

“Baby—oh god—gonna—gonna come—”

He tried to warn you. Tried to pull back.

But you didn’t let him.

You sucked harder—hollowing your cheeks, tongue flicking the slit one last time—and Jake shattered. 

His hips snapped up, burying another inch deeper as he came with a long, wrecked moan that echoed off the cabin walls. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your mouth—pulse after pulse, so much it spilled past the corners of your lips, dripping down your chin in messy streaks. 

Jake collapsed back against the pillows with a shuddering exhale, his entire body going limp as the last weak pulses of his orgasm ebbed through him. His head lolled to the side, eyes half-lidded and glassy, mouth open in a dazed, wrecked expression—like he’d just been hit by a truck and loved every second of it.

You pulled off him slowly, lips swollen and glistening, a soft, wet pop echoing in the quiet hut as the head slipped free from your mouth. Thick strings of cum and saliva stretched between your tongue and the flushed, still-throbbing tip—glistening, obscene, snapping one by one as you leaned back. A final bead of his release clung to your lower lip before you licked it away with a slow swipe of your tongue.

“Your turn now,” he rasped suddenly, voice wrecked but burning with intent. “Been dying to taste you—been dreaming about it every fucking night.”

Before you could respond, he surged up—hands strong despite the way they still shook—and pushed you onto the mattress. You landed on the soft sheets with a quiet gasp, hair fanning out around your head like a halo. Jake climbed over you instantly, caging you beneath him with his broad shoulders and trembling arms. 

He kissed you deeply—messy, desperate, tasting himself on your tongue and groaning into your mouth like the flavor drove him insane. His lips were swollen, breath ragged, teeth grazing your bottom lip as he poured everything into the kiss: gratitude, obsession, raw need. 

Jake’s hands roamed—sliding up your sides, under the hem of your thin sleep top. His palms were warm, calloused from weeks of camp work, and they trembled slightly as he pushed the fabric higher. Inch by inch, he revealed you: the soft curve of your stomach, the dip of your waist, the underside of your breasts. He broke the kiss just long enough to drag the top over your head and toss it somewhere behind him, only to immediately descend—hot, open-mouthed kisses trailing down the column of your throat like he was starving and you were the only thing that could feed him. 

When he reached the swell of your breasts, he paused, breath ragged and hot against your skin, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Can I…?” he whispered, voice hoarse, almost pleading.

You nodded, fingers still tangled in his hair, tugging gently. “Please, Jake… touch me. Taste me. I want you to.”

Jake groaned and dove in like a man who’d finally been given permission to worship. His mouth closed around one nipple, hot and wet, tongue swirling slow circles around the hardened peak before he sucked—hard, greedy, pulling the sensitive bud deep into his mouth. His hand cupped your other breast, thumb brushing back and forth over the nipple in perfect rhythm with his tongue. 

You arched into him with a soft, needy moan, back bowing off the mattress. “Oh god—Jake, yes—just like that…”

The praise hit him like a drug.

He moaned against your breast and switched sides, giving the other nipple the same devoted attention. “Fuck—you taste so good,” he mumbled against your skin, voice muffled and wrecked. “So perfect—been dreaming about these tits every night—wanted my mouth on them so bad—”

You threaded your fingers deeper into his hair, tugging hard enough to make him whimper around your nipple. “You’re so good, puppy,” you breathed, voice trembling with pleasure. “So good with your mouth—don’t stop, please don’t stop—”

His hands roamed everywhere—kneading, squeezing, thumbs flicking your nipples until they were swollen and aching. He buried his face between them, groaning deep in his throat as he nuzzled the soft valley, then dragged his tongue up the underside of one breast in a slow, filthy stripe before latching on again.

“Beautiful,” he whispered against your skin, voice thick with awe. “So fucking beautiful.”

He shifted lower, trailing open-mouthed kisses down the center of your stomach, worshipping every inch. His tongue dipped into your navel, swirling lazily before he pressed a lingering kiss just above it. His hands followed—palms sliding up your sides, thumbs tracing your ribs, fingers splaying wide across your waist like he was trying to hold all of you at once. 

“You’re perfect,” he murmured against your skin, voice cracking with emotion. “Every single part of you—fuck, I’ve wanted this for so long. Wanted to touch you, taste you, make you feel how much I—” His hands slid down to your thighs, spreading them wider with gentle pressure, thumbs stroking the soft inner skin in slow circles.

He looked up at you again—eyes shining, cheeks flushed, lips swollen and glistening.

“I love you,” he whispered, raw and shaky, like the confession had been ripped out of him. “I’m so fucking in love with you it hurts. Every smile, every laugh, every time you look at me—I’ve been gone for you since the first day. And now you’re here, letting me touch you… letting me love you…” His voice broke on the last word. A single tear slipped down his cheek, but he didn’t wipe it away—he just leaned down and pressed his forehead to your stomach, breathing you in like you were oxygen.

Your breath caught at the trembling confession—his words sinking into you like warm honey, sweet and heavy and almost too much to hold. “Jake…” you whispered, voice soft and thick with emotion. “Look at me.”

He lifted his head just enough to meet your eyes—his own wide, glassy, shining with something so vulnerable it stole your breath.

“I love you too,” you said, voice barely above a whisper, but steady. “I’ve loved you since the first time you smiled at me across the mess hall and tripped over your own feet. I’ve loved you every time you played with the kids and made them laugh, every time you looked at me like I was the only person in the world. I’ve loved you through every single one of your shy glances and every time you blushed so hard I thought you’d catch fire.”

A fresh tear slipped down his cheek. He let out a shaky, disbelieving laugh—half sob, half joy—and turned his head to press a desperate kiss to your palm.

“Baby…” he choked out, voice wrecked. “You… you love me too?”

You nodded, smiling through the tears gathering in your own eyes.

“I love you so much it hurts,” you whispered. “So please… don’t hold back anymore. I want everything. I want you.”

“You mean it?” he whispered, voice barely audible, cracking on every syllable. “You really want… everything? All of me?”

“I mean it,” you breathed. “I want all of you, Jake. No holding back. No hesitation. I want you to take me—love me—the way you’ve been dying to. I’m yours. Completely.”

The last thread of restraint snapped. 

He trailed kisses down the crease where thigh met hip, then lower still, until his lips found the plush, sensitive skin of your inner thigh. He kissed one thigh, then the other, alternating back and forth like he couldn’t decide which one deserved more attention.

Every time his mouth moved, his breath ghosted over your soaked panties, making you squirm. You moaned softly—fingers tightening in his hair—and the sound made him whimper against your skin, hips twitching helplessly against the mattress.

“Jake…” you breathed, voice trembling. “Please…”

He pulled back just enough to look.

And stare.

“Look at this pretty fucking pussy,” he rasped, voice raw with devotion. “So wet she’s crying for me…I’ve dreamed about this—imagining.. And now you’re letting me see it… letting me have it…”

You couldn’t take it anymore. The ache between your legs was unbearable—every word, every hot exhale making you clench around nothing.

“Jake…” you breathed, voice trembling, hips lifting just a fraction off the mattress in desperate search of contact. “Please… please, just taste me. I need your mouth on me—now.”

That single, pleading “please” snapped something inside him. With a low, guttural groan that sounded like it had been torn from his soul, Jake smashed his face against you.

No hesitation.

His nose pressed right to your clit through the lace—inhaling deeply, greedily, like he was trying to drown himself in your scent. A long, broken moan vibrated straight through your core as he breathed you in—once, twice, three times—his whole body shuddering with how good you smelled.

Then he opened his mouth.

Wide.

And dragged his tongue flat and hard up the entire length of your soaked slit through the lace. The rough texture of the fabric dragged deliciously over your swollen folds, catching on your clit with every pass. He licked again—broader this time—tongue pressing firm and hot, soaking the already drenched lace even more with his spit.

“God—taste so fucking good,” he mumbled between licks, voice wrecked. “Even through this… so sweet… so wet… can’t get enough—never gonna get enough—” His hands gripped your thighs tighter—fingers digging in possessively—as he smushed his face deeper, cheeks flushed and slick with your arousal, chin glistening. 

“Tell me you love it,” he pleaded against you, words muffled and frantic. “Tell me my tongue feels good—please, baby—tell me I’m making you feel so fucking good—”

“Yes—fuck, Jake—your mouth is perfect—don’t stop—please don’t stop tasting me like that—”

Jake was utterly gone.

“Jake—please—” you gasped, voice breaking on a whine. “Please… take them off. I need your tongue on me—properly. Need to feel you—please, puppy, I can’t take it anymore—”

“Anything,” he rasped, voice trembling. “Anything for you.” With shaking hands, he hooked his fingers under the soaked lace at your hips and tugged the fabric down your thighs. 

You were spread open for him—glistening, swollen, blooming like the prettiest flower he’d ever seen. Your folds were dark and slick, clit throbbing visibly, entrance fluttering with every shaky breath you took. A fresh trickle of arousal slipped free, sliding down toward your ass, and Jake made a low, devastated sound in the back of his throat before he dove back in—face-first, no hesitation, no lace in the way this time.

The first real taste of you made him groan so deep it vibrated through your entire body. His hands gripped your thighs harder, spreading you wider, holding you open as he buried his face between your legs like he never wanted to leave.

And god almighty—he never wanted to.

His mouth worked messily, greedily, with no trace of restraint left. Long, sloppy drags of his tongue from your entrance to your clit, lapping up every drop of your arousal like he was dying of thirst and you were the only thing that could save him. 

The sounds were filthy.

Wet. Obscene. Disgusting in the best possible way.

Every time his tongue plunged back into your dripping entrance, there was a lewd shlick—the slick glide of his tongue through your folds, followed by the wet slurp as he sucked your arousal straight from the source. 

Then his hands moved. He slid both palms up the backs of your thighs, fingers hooking under the soft, swollen lips of your pussy before he pulled them apart—spreading you wide open, exposing every inch of your glistening, fluttering core to his hungry gaze.

He didn’t even give you time to feel shy. He dove right back in—face buried even deeper now, tongue thrusting inside you, fucking you while his nose ground against your clit. 

“Jake—oh god—Jake—yes—right there—fuck—”

Your hips rolled shamelessly against his face, grinding your clit against his tongue, smearing your arousal across his cheeks, his chin, his nose. He was soaked—face glistening, hair sticking to his forehead, eyes squeezed shut in pure ecstasy as he devoured you like a man who’d never eat again.

Then—while his lips were sealed tight around your throbbing bud, tongue flicking fast and relentless—two of his fingers slid down through your dripping folds.

He teased your entrance first—slow circles around the fluttering hole, collecting your slick before pressing the tips inside. Just the first knuckles—enough to make you gasp—then deeper, until both long fingers were buried to the hilt.

The moment Jake’s fingers sank fully inside you—long, thick, curling perfectly against that spongy spot deep within—your whole body seized.

A sharp, broken shout tore from your throat—“Jake—oh fuck—!”—and then you were coming.

Hard.

Your walls clamped down around his fingers like a vice, fluttering and pulsing in violent, rhythmic waves as the orgasm ripped through you. Slick gushed around his knuckles, coating his hand, dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets. Your back arched off the mattress, fingers yanking at his hair so tightly you were sure it hurt, but Jake only moaned louder.

When the first brutal wave finally began to ebb, Jake pulled back from your clit with a loud, wet pop—lips swollen and shiny, chin dripping with your release. He didn’t give you time to catch your breath. He crawled up your body in one fluid motion as he settled between your legs. His fingers never left you—still buried deep, still curling lazily inside your fluttering walls.

Then his mouth crashed down on yours.

You moaned helplessly into him, arms wrapping around his neck, nails digging into his shoulders as you pulled him closer, arms wound tight around his neck, nails raking down the backs of his shoulders, leaving stinging little trails he’d feel tomorrow and love. 

Minutes passed like that. Maybe longer. Time dissolved into nothing but heat, wet sounds, and the feeling of Jake consuming you from the inside out.

Then—reluctantly—he pulled his mouth off yours. A thick string of spit connected your bottom lip to his for a heartbeat before it snapped. 

“Need to taste you again,” he rasped, voice ruined. “Everywhere.”

And then he started moving down. Open-mouthed kisses. Hot. Hungry. Worshipful.

He kissed the corner of your mouth to your jaw, down the column of your throat, sucking a fresh bruise into the skin he’d already marked earlier. Lower. Lower. His mouth found your tits again—immediately latching onto one nipple. At the exact same moment, you felt pressure at your entrance.

A third finger.

He didn’t force it—just nudged, teasing the slick, fluttering rim, letting your own arousal coat the tip while he waited.

You answered instantly.

Your thighs fell open wider, hips canting up in a silent, desperate plea. 

He moaned against your breast—vibrating the sensitive bud—before he started pushing in.

Slow.

So fucking slow.

Just the tip at first, letting you feel the stretch, then deeper, until all three thick fingers were buried inside you, spreading you open, filling you so perfectly your eyes rolled back. Your walls fluttered wildly around the new fullness, clenching and releasing as he curled them gently, stroking that perfect spot over and over.

The stretch of his three thick fingers inside you was overwhelming—perfect, burning, delicious. They filled you so completely, knuckles brushing every sensitive wall as he pushed in slow and deep, then dragged back out with agonizing patience before thrusting in again. Every time he curled them—hooking right against that spongy, electric spot—your walls fluttered wildly around him, clenching down like you were trying to keep him buried forever.

“Jake—oh god—fuck—” Your fingers tightened in his hair, yanking him closer to your chest while your other hand cradled his face like he was something precious.

Jake never wanted to let go.

His mouth stayed latched to your breast—specifically that one perfect, swollen nipple. Every few seconds, he let his teeth graze—just a gentle scrape, a soft chew—nothing hard enough to hurt, but enough to make your whole body jolt. He’d nibble lightly at the tender flesh around the areola, then soothe it immediately with his tongue, sucking the nipple back between his lips like he couldn’t bear to be parted from it even for a second.

He had always had a thing for keeping something in his mouth.

A pacifier when he was little. A pen cap when he was nervous. His own fingers when he was deep in thought.

And now—you.

The taste of your skin, the weight of you on his tongue, the way you filled his mouth so perfectly—it was everything he’d ever craved without knowing it. 

You didn’t hate it.

Not even close.

Your reactions told him everything.

Every time his teeth grazed, you gasped—sharp and needy—hips bucking up against his thrusting fingers. Every time he chewed softly, nibbling like he was savoring the softest candy, your thighs trembled and squeezed around his head, trapping him there. Your fingers in his hair tightened to the point of pain, yanking him closer, pressing his face deeper into your chest like you were trying to smother him with your tits—and god, he would have happily died like that.

His mouth stayed locked on that one perfect breast—the right one, the one that seemed to fit his lips like it was made for him. It throbbed under his attention—dark, puffy, flushed an angry pink. It pulsed against his tongue with every heartbeat, swollen and hypersensitive, sending sharp jolts of pleasure straight between your legs every time he drew it deeper.

“Jake—fuck—yes—don’t stop—suck harder—please—”

The desperate whines spilling from your lips, the way your body arched and shook, the way you clung to him like you’d die if he pulled away—it was too much.

Jake felt it—the perfect moment.

With a low, muffled groan against your breast, he shifted his hand. Three fingers were already stretching you wide—curling deep, stroking that perfect spot over and over—but he needed more.

You needed more.

He was big. Far too much to take without preparation. And he refused to hurt you. He wanted you ready. Desperate. Begging for every inch when the time came.

He kept his mouth working to keep you distracted, keep you lost in the pleasure. At the same time, a fourth finger nudged at your entrance—sliding through the dripping slick, teasing the already stretched rim before he pushed in.

The stretch was intense—burning, overwhelming. Four thick fingers spreading you wide, filling you so completely your walls fluttered wildly around him, clenching and releasing in helpless little spasms. He curled them gently—stroking that perfect spot in slow, deep drags—while his thumb found your clit and started rubbing circles.

You were a mess of high, needy sounds—whimpers turning into broken sobs, hips rolling up to meet every thrust, fingers yanking at his hair so hard it had to sting. Your other hand cradled his cheek, thumb stroking over the flushed skin as you clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded.

Only when your pleas turned truly desperate—when you were practically sobbing his name, begging for his cock, hips bucking wildly against his hand—did he finally decide you were ready.

With a reluctant whine he pulled his mouth off your breast—leaving the nipple dark, swollen, glistening with spit and throbbing in the cool air. 

Then agonizingly, he slipped his fingers out of you.

A thick, wet string of your arousal connected his knuckles to your entrance before it snapped, dripping down onto the sheets. Jake stared at the mess he’d made—your pussy gaping slightly, fluttering around the sudden emptiness, slick coating his hand from wrist to fingertips—and groaned like a dying man. 

Without hesitation, he brought his dripping fingers to his mouth. He sucked them in deep—eyes fluttering shut, cheeks hollowing as he licked every trace of you off his skin. 

You watched him—breathless, mesmerized—watching the way his tongue swirled around his knuckles, the way his eyes rolled back a little, the way he drooled over his own hand like he couldn’t get enough.

Then his gaze flicked back to you—dark, hungry, adoring. He pulled his fingers from his mouth with a wet pop and brought them to your lips instead. “Open,” he whispered, voice trembling.

You did—immediately—parting your lips so he could slide his slick fingers inside. You tasted yourself on his skin and sucked eagerly.

Jake’s breath hitched. His eyes dropped lower—to your open, dripping pussy, folds swollen and glistening, entrance fluttering like it was begging for him. And god—it was begging. Winking at him. Opening for him. Practically pleading for his cock.

Jake groaned and pulled his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop. He wrapped his hand around the thick base of his cock—veins pulsing visibly under the flushed skin, head swollen dark and leaking a steady stream of precome that dripped in slow, silvery strands. He lined himself up, the fat, blunt tip kissing your entrance—hot, slick, pressing insistently against your fluttering hole.

He watched—completely entranced, eyes dark and glassy—as he started to push in.

The first inch was already a challenge.

Your pussy opened for him, stretching around the impossibly thick head like it was being forced to learn how to accommodate something so massive. Your walls fluttered wildly, clenching and spasming around the intrusion, trying to adjust to the sheer girth that was splitting you open. It felt like he was carving out new space inside you, reshaping you to fit only him.

You couldn’t breathe properly. Every shallow inhale came out as a shaky whimper. Your thighs trembled around his hips, muscles jumping with the effort of staying open for him.

“Fuck—baby—” Jake choked out, voice wrecked and trembling. “You’re so tight… so fucking tight… trying to take me… god, look at you—trying so hard to let me in…” The head popped past your entrance with a soft, wet sound, and your walls clamped down hard around him in reflex. A sharp, high gasp tore from your throat—half pleasure, half overwhelmed sting—as the thick ridge stretched you wider than you’d ever been stretched before.

“Jake—oh god—” you whimpered, voice cracking. “You’re so big—too big—it’s—fuck—it’s stretching me so much—”

“Shh—shh, baby—I’ve got you,” he whispered, voice shaking with both restraint and awe. “You’re doing so good… taking me so perfectly… just breathe for me… let me in… let your pretty pussy open up for my cock…” He rocked forward another fraction—barely an inch—and you cried out softly, nails digging into his shoulders. The stretch burned hotter now, your walls fluttering desperately around the thick intrusion, trying to accommodate the impossible girth. You could feel every vein, every ridge as he sank deeper—slow, torturous, filling you so completely it felt like he was reaching places inside you no one else had ever touched.

“Fuck—look at that,” he groaned, eyes fixed on where your bodies joined. “Look how your little pussy is stretching around me… taking my fat cock… so greedy for it… so wet and hot… god, you’re perfect… made for me…”

Another inch.

Your back arched, a broken moan spilling from your lips as the head nudged against that deep, sensitive spot inside you. The pressure was everywhere—filling you so full it felt like he was rearranging your insides, claiming every inch of space as his. “Jake—please—” you sobbed, voice trembling. “It’s so much—so deep—stretching me so wide—feels like you’re gonna break me—”

You couldn’t take it anymore.

The sound of his voice pushed you right to the edge of sanity. With a soft, needy whimper you slid both hands up to cradle his face—thumbs brushing the sharp line of his jaw—and pulled him down into a fierce, hungry kiss. The moment your lips crashed against his—fierce, hungry, desperate—Jake’s entire world narrowed to that single point of contact and his restraint shattered like glass.

His hips snapped forward in one brutal, perfect thrust.

The last thick inches drove into you hard—burying him to the hilt so deep the fat, swollen head slammed right up against your cervix with a force that punched the air from your lungs.

You screamed into his mouth—high, startled, overwhelmed—back bowing off the mattress, thighs clamping around his hips like a vice. 

“You took me—” he rasped, voice cracking with awe and disbelief. “All of me—all of me—god, look at you… stretching around my cock like you were fucking made for it… so tight… so hot… I can feel you squeezing me—milking me—fuck, baby, you’re perfect… so fucking perfect…” The overwhelming heat, the tight, rippling grip of your walls clenching around every pulsing inch of him—it was too much. Too perfect. Too everything.

“You’re squeezing me so good… feels like you’re trying to keep me inside forever…” He started rocking into you—shallow thrusts. Just a few inches back and forth, never pulling out too far, never giving you a second without feeling him. The wet, filthy schlick of him moving inside you filled the room, mixing with your shared breaths and soft moans.

Then—he made the mistake of looking down. He only meant to admire your tits but his gaze drifted lower.

And he froze.

There—right above your pubic bone—was the unmistakable bulge of his cock. Every slow rock made it shift—his thick head pressing up against your lower belly, the outline visible under your skin like a brand.

Jake’s breath punched out of him in a strangled groan.

“Oh… fuck…”

Something primal snapped inside him. With no warning—no hesitation—he pulled all the way out. Until only the fat, leaking tip remained nestled against your entrance.

Your walls clenched around nothing—aching at the sudden emptiness—and you whimpered, hips lifting instinctively.

Then he thrusted in. Hard. Deep. One brutal stroke that buried him to the hilt again.

Your back arched off the mattress with a raw, broken scream “Jahke—!”

His mouth found your throat—teeth grazing, then biting down just hard enough to mark—while his hands flew to your waist, gripping your waist like handles, fingers digging into the soft flesh, using the leverage to yank you back onto his cock every time he pulled out. “Look at how deep I am inside you… look at this fucking bulge—see it? See how my cock stretches your little belly every time I bottom out? That’s me. That’s my dick rearranging your insides, making you feel me in places no one else ever has.”

He made sure you felt every thick, veiny inch drag against your fluttering walls before slamming back in with a wet smack. “Sunghoon could never fuck you like this,” he snarled, the name dripping with venom. “He could never fill you this deep. Never make you scream like that. Never leave you shaking and dripping and marked the way I do. He’d be done in two minutes—average little cock barely touching the sides—while I’m here splitting you open, ruining this perfect pussy for anyone else.” Another brutal thrust—hard enough to make your tits bounce, hard enough to punch a raw cry from your throat. “He’d never make you cry from how good it feels,” Jake continued, voice shaking with triumph. “Never make you come so hard your legs stop working. Never pump you so full of cum that it leaks out for hours. He’d never look down and see his own cock bulging in your stomach like this—like I’m branding you from the inside. You’re mine. This pussy? This body? All mine. Not his. Never his.”

He leaned back just enough to look down—eyes locked on the obscene outline of his cock moving under your skin—watching it shift with every deep, claiming thrust. “That’s me. That’s how much bigger I am. That’s how much better I fuck you. He could never do this. Could never make you take every fucking inch like you were born for it. Could never make you sob my name while your tight little cunt milks me dry.” He slammed in again—harder—making the bulge rise sharply under your lower belly. “Say it,” he demanded, voice low and dangerous, teeth grazing your earlobe. “Tell me who owns this pussy. Tell me who fucks you like this. Tell me who you belong to.”

You could barely speak—voice wrecked, breath punched out of you with every thrust—but the words spilled out anyway, broken and desperate. “You—you, Jake—only you—fuck—only your cock—only yours—”

He groaned—deep, guttural, victorious—and fucked you even harder, hands bruising your waist, hips snapping forward like he was trying to imprint himself into your very core. “Damn right,” he snarled against your throat. 

Then—without warning—Jake’s hands slid under your ass. Strong arms flexed under your thighs, biceps bulging as he lifted you clean off the mattress in one smooth, powerful motion. The world tilted for a heartbeat—your back leaving the sheets, your weight shifting entirely onto him—as he pulled you up and settled you firmly in his lap, legs draped over his hips like you belonged there. 

You sank down hard—gravity and his guiding hands forcing you onto his cock in one brutal, breathtaking drop. The thick length speared into you deeper than before, the angle hitting new, untouched places inside you that made your vision blur and a raw, high-pitched cry rip from your throat. He was too big, too deep, too everything.

He set a punishing rhythm immediately: slow on the upstroke, lifting you with those powerful hands until only the thick, flared head remained nestled just inside your entrance, then he yanked you back down, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal stroke that punched the air from your lungs. Your ass met his thighs with a sharp, wet slap that echoed through the cabin, followed immediately by your broken, high-pitched moan as he filled you completely once more.

Again. And again.

Each time he yanked you down, your breasts bounced heavily—full, flushed, marked with the dark red-purple blooms of his bites and the faint indents of his teeth. The soft, bruised flesh jiggled with every rough drop, practically begging for attention.

And Jake?

Jake needed his mouth busy.

Always had.

The sight of your tits bouncing right in front of his face—close enough to taste—was the most tempting invitation he’d ever been given.

With a low, broken groan that sounded more animal than human, Jake surged forward.

His mouth crashed onto your right breast like a starving man finally allowed to feast. No preamble, no teasing—he simply opened wide and took the swollen, dark nipple deep into the wet heat of his mouth, lips sealing tight around the areola as he sucked hard enough to hollow his cheeks. 

His free hand slid up cupping the underside of your other breast. He lifted it, squeezed, then slapped—hard enough to make the flesh jiggle. The sharp smack echoed through the room, followed immediately by your high, broken moan. He watched, utterly fascinated as the red bloom of his handprint bloomed across the pale skin. Another slap—harder—watching the flesh move in hypnotic ripples. 

“Jahykeee—” The sound came out high and needy, open-mouthed, drool slipping from the corner of your lips as your head fell back. You couldn’t form full sentences anymore—just his name, over and over, moaned like a prayer.

Everything was wet.

Disgusting.

Perfect.

You were babbling now—incoherent, desperate little sounds that barely formed words. “gonna come—oh god—”

A few more brutal thrusts—deep, punishing, hips snapping up to meet every downward slam—and Jake broke. With a raw groan that vibrated against your breast, he buried himself to the hilt one last time and came. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded deep inside you—pulse after violent pulse—filling you so full you could feel every spurt painting your walls. 

The sheer volume of his cum filled you so completely you could feel it sloshing gently with every tiny shift of your hips, warm and heavy, some of it already leaking out around the base of his cock in slow, creamy rivulets that dripped down his balls and onto the sheets beneath you. Neither of you moved to pull apart. 

You didn’t want to. He didn’t want to.

His mouth stayed latched to your swollen nipple—nursing with slow, lazy pulls that made the tender bud throb against his tongue. Every few seconds he’d give a tiny, gentle suck—like he was drawing comfort, drawing life from you. He gnawed softly at the areola, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to make you shiver, then returned to nursing with quiet, contented hums vibrating against your chest.

You let your own hands drift up—fingers threading gently through his damp, messy hair. You smoothed it back from his forehead, petting him slowly, lovingly, nails scratching lightly over his scalp in soothing little circles.

“Good boy,” you whispered, voice soft and wrecked. “Filled me up so perfectly…”

That made him melt.

A high, broken whimper escaped around your nipple as his hips gave a tiny, helpless roll beneath you. The motion dragged his still-hard cock against your sensitive walls, stirring the thick load he’d just pumped deep inside you.

You gasped—sweet and soft—at the sensation.

“Good boy… look at you—still so hard for me… still filling me up…”

Jake’s entire body trembled against yours—shaking like a leaf in a storm—his face buried so deep between your breasts that his nose pressed into the soft valley, inhaling you like you were the only air he needed. His arms wrapped around your waist tighter, hands splayed wide across your lower back, fingers digging in just enough to keep you locked against him. He wasn’t thrusting anymore—not really. He was just… moving. Like his body couldn’t bear to be still inside you. 

“Please say it again… please…” He sounded so small, so utterly wrecked. The filthy boy who’d just fucked you senseless was gone. In his place was this trembling, desperate thing. 

You cradled his face gently between your hands, thumbs brushing over the flushed apples of his cheeks, feeling the way he trembled under your touch. His eyes—big, glassy, and completely lost—lifted to meet yours, pupils blown wide with need and adoration.

“My sweet puppy,” you murmured, voice soft but firm, lips brushing his forehead. “You’ve been so good for me. You can fuck me again, baby. You have my permission, puppy. Take what you need.”

A broken, grateful whine tore from his throat—high and shaky—like the words alone were enough to unravel him completely.  “Thank you—thank you—” he choked out, voice cracking as he nuzzled into your neck for a heartbeat before lifting his head.

You tilted his chin up with gentle fingers, guiding his mouth to yours.

The kiss started soft—slow, deep, tender. You led at first, tongue sliding against his in lazy, loving strokes, swallowing the little whimpers he let out every time you nipped his bottom lip. He melted into it—letting you take control, letting you set the pace—hands trembling where they gripped your hips like he was afraid to move without your say-so.

But Jake was needy.

Desperate.

And he could only hold back for so long.

A low moan slipped out against your mouth as his tongue plunged deeper—still following your rhythm at first, but growing hungrier, chasing every slide of your tongue like you were pure nectar he’d die without. You could taste the salt of his tears, the faint musk of your earlier release still lingering on his tongue, and it made you moan softly into him.

You started moving—lifting yourself up his thick length with agonizing slowness, letting him feel every dragging inch as your walls clung to him, fluttering and squeezing around his girth. When only the swollen head remained inside you—stretching your entrance wide—you sank back down in one smooth, deep drop, taking him to the hilt again.

Jake’s entire body jerked beneath you, and his hands on your hips tightened, fingers digging in just enough to help guide your rhythm, lifting you just enough on the upstroke, then guiding you back down with gentle pressure, making sure you took every inch. But he didn’t thrust up into you. He didn’t dare. He just… assisted. Letting you use him exactly how you wanted.

Eventually you could feel it building again—slow, hot, inevitable. Your thighs trembled uncontrollably around his waist, breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the pressure crested. “Jake.. gonna—gonna come—” you sobbed, voice breaking into a high, desperate whine. 

The second the words left your lips, something shifted in him. His hands—previously only guiding, tightened. His fingers dug into your hips hard enough to leave fresh marks over the old ones, and he took over.

No more teasing rhythm. No more letting you lead.

He surged upward driving his cock deep inside you in one smooth, punishing stroke that punched the air from your lungs. Your back arched violently, a raw cry tearing from your throat as he bottomed out again. One hand slid up your side cupping the heavy curve of your breast, thumb flicking over the swollen, spit-slick nipple before pinching it hard enough to make you gasp. His other hand slipped between your bodies—fingers finding your clit immediately, rubbing fast little circles, then pinching the sensitive bud between his fingers, rolling it gently before flicking it hard enough to make your hips buck. 

“Gonna come so pretty for me, aren’t you? Gonna cream all over my dick while I fill you up again—”

You shattered.

Your orgasm crashed through you like a wave—walls clamping down around his cock in violent, fluttering spasms. Your thighs squeezed his hips so tight it hurt, toes curling, vision whiting out at the edges. 

You went limp beneath him, your arms flopped weakly to your sides, legs splayed open around him, chest heaving with ragged breaths. You could barely think, barely move—just lay there, wrecked and panting, letting him use you as he chased his own release. And with a few more desperate grinds, he broke.

With a muffled cry, he came again—hot, thick ropes flooding deep inside you, mixing with the first load until you felt impossibly fuller.

You both stayed like that—locked together, trembling—for long minutes. Jake’s hands roamed lazily over your body, petting your sides, squeezing your ass, like he was memorizing every curve.

Then slowly—ever so slowly—he shifted, with a soft, reluctant whine—he started to pull out.

You winced at the feeling—sharp and empty—as his cock dragged against your oversensitive walls. A gush of his cum followed immediately, spilling out of you in a warm, thick flood that ran down your ass and pooled on the sheets. The sudden loss made you whimper, thighs twitching.

But before you could even process it— Jake’s mouth was there, strong hands gripping your thighs, spreading you wide—and buried his face in your pussy.

You shouted—high and startled—“Jake—fuck—too much—!”

Overstimulation hit like lightning—your hips bucking up instinctively, hands flying to his hair to push him away as his tongue dragged flat up your leaking slit.

But Jake didn’t budge.

His tongue pushed past your swollen folds, lapping at the creamy mess he’d left inside you: his thick cum mixed with your slick, warm and salty-sweet on his tongue. He scooped every drop with broad swirls—moaning low against your pussy like the flavor was pure ecstasy.

“Gotta clean you,” he mumbled against your folds, voice thick and wrecked, lips moving wetly as he spoke. “Gotta taste us…”

He ate you thoroughly—relentlessly—tongue curling inside you, swallowing with a low hum—throat working visibly, nose nudging your swollen clit with every deep thrust of his tongue.

You tried to push at his head, but he wasn’t having it. He grabbed both of your wrists in one large hand and pinned them to your stomach—holding you down, while his other hand clamped harder on your thigh, thumb stroking the soft inner skin in slow, soothing circles.

“Stay still, baby,” he rasped between licks, voice muffled and dripping with need. “Let me clean you… I’m not done yet… not even close…”

He kept going—tongue plunging deep, then dragging up to your clit before sucking the swollen bud between his lips with gentle insistence. He nursed on it softly—sucking, licking, humming in quiet bliss.

He kept going until your pussy was clean, glistening only with his spit now, fluttering weakly around nothing.

He gave one last long, savoring lick from your entrance all the way up to your clit—collecting the final traces—before pulling back with a low, wrecked groan.

He crawled up your body until his face hovered over yours.

Then he kissed you.

Deep. Slow. Filthy.

His skin was flushed and sweat-slicked, chest rising and falling in heavy breaths, but his eyes never left yours—dark, glassy, shining with something so raw and tender it made your heart stutter.

When his face finally hovered over yours—close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him, smell the salt and musk of sex clinging to his skin—he paused for one heartbeat, just breathing you in.

Then he kissed you.

His mouth sealed over yours like he was trying to crawl inside you all over again—lips soft but insistent, parting yours with a gentle nudge before his tongue slid in, hot and thick and unhurried. The first taste hit you immediately: the heady, salty-sweet mix of both of you—his cum still lingering on his tongue, thick and musky, blended with the slick tang of your own arousal that coated every inch of his mouth. It was obscene, intimate, utterly filthy in the most perfect way—evidence of everything he’d done to you, everything you’d let him do, still warm and fresh on his tongue.

You moaned into the kiss and he groaned back—low and wrecked—swallowing the sound like it was nectar, his tongue sliding deeper, curling around yours in slow, lazy drags that made your toes curl against the sheets.

The kiss was sloppy, unashamed—filthy in the best way.

He shifted slightly—weight settling more firmly over you—and one of his hands slid down your body with intent. Rough fingertips trailed over your ribs, your stomach, until they reached the space between your thighs. He cupped your pussy in one big palm—hot, calloused, fingers splaying wide to cover every inch of your swollen, sensitive folds.

Your thighs clamped around his hand instantly—reflexive—trapping him there. The wet heat of you was obscene— still swollen and tender from everything he’d done to you.

Without breaking the kiss, his ring and middle fingers slipped inside you easily—two thick digits sinking deep into your heat with a soft, wet schlick. Your walls fluttered around them immediately, still sensitive, still clenching like they were trying to pull him deeper. He curled them slowly—hooking against that perfect spot inside you—while his thumb brushed feather-light over your swollen clit, circling once, twice, then pressing down just enough to make your hips buck. Your own hand came down to cover his—fingers wrapping around his wrist, not to stop him, but hold on, feeling the flex of his tendons, the way his forearm tensed every time he pushed deeper.

He worshipped you like this for long, unhurried minutes—fingers massaging slow and deep, thumb circling your clit with perfect patience, mouth moving against yours in lazy, loving strokes.  You could feel yourself climbing again, pleasure coiling tight and hot in your belly despite the oversensitivity. But Jake felt it too. He felt the way your walls started fluttering faster, the way your breath hitched against his mouth, the way your fingers tightened around his wrist.

With a soft, reluctant groan he finally eased his fingers out carefully, curling them one last time against that perfect spot before sliding free. 

He broke the kiss just enough to press his forehead to yours—breathing hard, eyes glassy and dark with adoration.

“Don’t wanna push you too far, baby,” he whispered, voice hoarse and trembling. “You’ve already given me everything.” He pressed one last, soft kiss to your swollen lips—gentle this time, then collapsed beside you and immediately pulled you into his arms, chest to chest, legs tangling, his face immediately burying in the crook of your neck. His breath came in shaky, happy little puffs against your skin as he nuzzled closer, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head, the other resting possessively on your hip.

“Mine…” he whispered, voice hoarse and drowsy, lips brushing your pulse point. “All mine…”

He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the side of your throat—then another, and another—like he couldn’t stop tasting you even now.

You hummed—soft, content—fingers threading gently through his damp hair, petting him slowly while your other arm wrapped around his shoulders, holding him close.

Completely, blissfully content.

The next morning dawned bright and mercilessly hot, the kind of summer day that turned the entire camp into a shimmering haze. You stood in front of the tiny mirror in your cabin, trying—and failing—to cover the evidence of last night.

The marks were everywhere.

Dark, blooming hickeys and faint bite marks painted your throat like a collar of bruises. A constellation of red-purple blooms trailed down your collarbone, over the tops of your breasts, and disappeared beneath the neckline of your top. Your inner thighs were mottled with finger-shaped imprints and suction marks, and your hips bore the faint outline of Jake’s hands where he’d gripped you like he never wanted to let go.

You tried a scarf—ridiculous in this heat. A high-collared shirt—immediately discarded when sweat beaded on your neck within minutes. Long sleeves? Impossible. The sun was already brutal, and the thought of layers made you feel like you were suffocating.

So you gave up.

You tugged on your usual camp uniform and stepped outside. Immediately, the heat pressed against your skin like a living thing, but more noticeable than the temperature was the way your body moved.

You were limping.

Not dramatically, but enough that every step sent a dull, delicious ache radiating from between your thighs. Your pussy still felt swollen, tender, stretched in a way that made you clench involuntarily every time you shifted your weight. And your skin—god, your skin—glowed. That unmistakable post-sex flush clung to you, making you look like you’d been thoroughly, repeatedly ravished.

The female counselors noticed first.

They were gathered near the mess hall, sipping lukewarm coffee, when you limped past.

“Holy shit,” Minji—choked on her drink, eyes widening as she took in the full display. “Girl, what the hell happened to you? Did you get attacked by a vacuum cleaner?”

Chaeryeong—leaned forward, grinning wickedly. “No, no, look at those marks. That’s not a vacuum. That’s a whole-ass man. Who fucked you so good you look like you got mauled?”

You laughed—hoarse, a little breathless—and tried to shrug it off, but the movement pulled at a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, making you wince. 

“Someone got carried away,” you said, voice still a little raspy from all the moaning and screaming the night before.

“Carried away?” Yuna echoed, eyes sparkling. “Babe, that’s not carried away. That’s claimed. Look at your thighs—those are handprints. Plural. Who is this man and does he have a brother?”

The male counselors, meanwhile, were noticeably quieter.

They glanced over—then quickly looked away. Some flushed red. Others suddenly found the ground very interesting. Sunghoon, in particular, was standing near the canoe rack pretending to check ropes, but his ears were bright pink and he refused to meet anyone’s eyes.

The kids were… less subtle.

A group of eight-year-olds ran up while you were trying to help set up the morning activity board. 

“Whoa, Miss, what happened to your neck?” one little girl asked, pointing openly at the dark hickey just below your jaw.

Another boy gasped dramatically. “Did a bear get you? Or a tiger? You look like you got mauled by an animal!”

You crouched down—wincing slightly—and ruffled his hair. “No bears, promise,” you said with a grin. “Just… a very enthusiastic mosquito.”

The kids blinked, clearly unconvinced, but ran off to tell their friends about the “mosquito attack.”

The adult staff—counselors and the camp director included—mostly just stared at you like you’d grown a second head. A few raised eyebrows. A couple of knowing smirks. One of the older female staff members muttered something about “kids these days” while pointedly looking anywhere but at your neck.

But none of it really bothered you. Not when Jake was trailing behind you like a lovesick shadow.

He hadn’t let you out of his sight since breakfast—still a little dazed, still a little sore, still glowing. He carried your water bottle without being asked. He hovered while you handed out activity schedules. He practically vibrated with pride every time someone’s eyes flicked to your marks and then to him.

And when Sunghoon tried to approach you near the craft table—casual, friendly, like nothing had changed—Jake was suddenly right there, sliding an arm around your waist, chin resting possessively on your shoulder.

Sunghoon blinked, glanced at the obvious handprints on your hips peeking out from under your top, then at Jake’s smug little smile—and backed off without another word.

Jake practically preened.

By evening, the bonfire crackled high, kids roasting marshmallows, counselors scattered on logs and blankets. Jake was sitting on one of the bigger logs, legs spread, looking every inch the smug, satisfied man who’d finally gotten his prize.

You didn’t even hesitate.

You walked straight over—limp still noticeable—and plopped right into his lap. His arms wrapped around you instantly, pulling your back flush against his chest. His chin hooked over your shoulder, nose brushing your neck right over one of the darkest hickeys.

“Hi, baby,” he murmured against your skin, voice low and content, just for you.

Kids giggled and whispered. Counselors exchanged looks—some amused, some scandalized, most just resigned. Sunghoon stared into the flames like they’d personally offended him.

Jake didn’t care.

He pressed a soft kiss to the side of your neck—right over a particularly dark mark—and sighed like the happiest man alive.

You were perfectly content right where you were: settled sideways across Jake’s lap, back resting against his chest, legs draped lazily over one of his thighs. His arms were wrapped around your waist like he was afraid someone might try to steal you away if he let go for even a second. His chin rested on your shoulder, nose occasionally brushing the side of your neck where the darkest, most obvious hickey bloomed like a bruise-colored flower.

You weren’t doing anything.

Just sitting.

Breathing.

Existing in his arms.

And that was more than enough. Because beneath you Jake started to harden.

You felt it happen in stages: the first subtle thickening against the underside of your thigh, the way his cock twitched once, then again, as if waking up. Then the gradual swell, pressing insistently against your ass through the thin layers of your shorts and his. He shifted once—barely a movement, just trying to adjust—and the motion only made him harder, the thick ridge of him settling right between your cheeks.

A soft, involuntary groan slipped from his throat—barely audible over the fire, but you heard it. Felt it rumble against your back. You tilted your head just enough to whisper against the shell of his ear, voice low and teasing, lips brushing the sensitive skin.

“Getting hard just from me sitting on you, puppy?” you murmured, letting your breath ghost over his earlobe. “Poor thing… can’t even control yourself around me anymore, can you?”

Jake’s whole body jerked. “Baby—fuck—” he breathed against your neck, voice wrecked and trembling. “Don’t—don’t say that—please—I’m trying to be good—”

But he wasn’t being good.

Not at all.

His hips gave another tiny, helpless roll—grinding his aching length against you—just enough to make you feel every thick inch. His breath came in short, shaky pants against your throat, lips brushing the bruise he’d left there like he couldn’t help himself.

Across the fire, Heeseung was watching the whole thing with the stupidest, most shit-eating grin on his face.

When Jake’s eyes flicked up—wide, panicked, pleading—Heeseung just raised both thumbs in an exaggerated double-thumbs-up, wiggling his eyebrows like he was at a comedy show.

Really helping the situation.

Jake buried his face deeper into your neck with another pathetic whine, hips twitching again despite his best efforts to stay still. “I’m gonna—fuck—I’m gonna lose it right here if you keep talking like that…”

You only smiled—slow, wicked—and shifted just enough to press your ass down a little harder against his straining cock.

“Shhh,” you whispered, lips brushing his ear again. “Be good for me, puppy. Or everyone’s gonna know exactly what you’re thinking about right now.”

Jake’s only answer was a low groan, broken, and completely wrecked.

a/n: i wrote most of this while at work. so sorry its shit.

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Ria grabbed your hand. “She wants a piercing.” Soo looked at the sky. Hana was already moving toward the door.

The club outfit had been Ria’s fault entirely. The top was small — that was the only word for it, small and black and doing everything a top could reasonably be asked to do. The skirt wasn’t much better. You’d spent the whole night at the club feeling like the main character, which was the intended effect, and the cold air outside had done nothing to make you feel less exposed.

You pushed the door open and the warmth hit you first. Then the smell — ink, clean soap, something faintly chemical underneath it. Black walls covered in flash art. Low red lighting that made the whole place feel like a deliberate secret. Something slow playing from speakers you couldn’t locate.

Two guys inside. One in the back with his head down over a drawing tablet. One at the front counter. The one at the front counter looked up.

He was tall even on the stool, long legs stretched out in front of him, forearms resting on the desk like he owned the surface and everything past it. Full sleeve on his left arm. Silver rings on most of his fingers. Dark hair pushed back slightly. One earring. The kind of face that got you in trouble if you looked at it for too long — sharp jaw, dark eyes, a mouth that was currently sitting in the very early stages of a smirk.

He took in all four of you in about two seconds. Then his eyes found you and the smirk finished forming. “We’re open,” he said. “Barely.”

Ria and Hana peeled off toward the flash wall immediately. Soo planted herself near the door with her arms folded. Which left you walking up to the front counter alone, bare legs, tiny skirt, heels clicking on the concrete floor.

You watched him watch you walk over. He didn’t pretend he wasn’t watching. Didn’t do the polite thing where you glance away and back. He just watched, easy and unhurried, the way someone looks at something they find genuinely worth looking at, and when you got to the counter and leaned on it his eyes moved — slowly, and with complete lack of apology — from your face down to your chest and back up again. Held eye contact like nothing had happened. You’d been looked at before. This was different. This was a man who had decided he wasn’t going to pretend. “Hi,” you said.

“Hi.” His voice was low. Even. The smirk hadn’t moved. “Can I help you?”

“I want a piercing.”

“Yeah?” He leaned back on the stool, arms folding across his chest, the sleeve shifting with the movement. His rings caught the red light. “What are you thinking?”

“Tragus.” You reached up and tapped the outer ridge of your ear, which meant your arm lifted and your top shifted and you watched his eyes drop again, briefly, before they came back to yours like he wasn’t the least bit embarrassed about it. “I’ve been putting it off. I’m in a decisive mood.”

“Decisive,” he said.

“Very.”

“I can see that.” He said it like it meant something else. Then: “How much have you had tonight?”

“Enough to be excellent company.”

He looked at you. Really looked — quiet and thorough, taking in your face, the flush across your chest, the way you were leaning on his counter in that top — and then his tongue pressed briefly against his cheek like he was trying not to smile properly. “Can’t pierce you with alcohol in your system, baby.”

Baby. Like he’d been calling you that for years. Like it was already established. “That’s a rule?” you said.

“That’s the rule.”

You leaned further onto the counter, closing some of the distance between you. His eyes went exactly where you expected them to go and stayed there for a beat longer than was professional before dragging back up. His expression didn’t change. He was completely comfortable with being caught, which was — honestly — impressive. “What if I promised to be very good?” you said.

“I’m sure you would be.” His voice was smooth, unhurried. “Still no.”

“What if—”

“You can come back tomorrow,” he said. “Sober. I’ll pierce your tragus.” A pause, his eyes dropping once more, quick and deliberate, before landing back on yours. “Or whatever else you want.”

The air between you did something. “That sounds like more than a professional offer,” you said.

“I’m a professional.” The smirk was fully settled now. “The offer’s professional. What you do with it is up to you.”

You held his gaze. He held yours back without any effort at all, completely at ease, like this was just how Tuesday night went for him. It was annoying. It was also working. “I don’t know where this place is sober,” you said.

He was already reaching under the counter. He slid a card across the desk with two fingers — didn’t look down to do it, kept his eyes on you the whole time. STUDIO 13. NISHIMURA RIKI. PIERCING.

You picked it up. “Your personal card,” you said.

“Goes straight to me.”

“Bold.”

“Efficient,” he said.

You looked at the card. Then at him. “I’m Y/N.” His eyes went down again — unhurried, completely unapologetic, a slow look that started at your face and made its way south before coming back up — and then he said, “Y/N,” like he was just trying the name out. Like he’d be using it again. “You gonna remember that?” you said.

“Yeah,” he said simply. “I’m going to remember that.”

The way he said it made it about more than your name. Behind you, Ria made a noise she covered poorly with a fake cough. You didn’t turn around. “Come back sober,” Riki said. “I’ll take care of you.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because I’m going to do it.” He picked his phone back up, easy as anything, like the conversation was filed away now and he was done performing — except the smirk stayed. “Get home safe, Y/N.” Dismissed. Warmly, cockily, with complete confidence that you’d be back.

You picked up the card, slid it into your bag, and let Soo steer you to the door because your own legs had made a decision to co-operate with his energy and you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction.

Outside Ria grabbed your arm with both hands. “Y/N. The way he looked at you—”

“Ria.”

“He looked at your tits like—”

“Ria.” Hana was fanning herself. Even Soo was quiet, which was its own verdict. The Uber was three minutes away and you looked at your phone and felt your face doing something warm that you were crediting entirely to the alcohol.

Inside, Heeseung finally looked up from his drawing tablet. He’d watched the whole thing. Ten feet away. Nobody had noticed. He looked at Riki.

Riki had his phone in his hand but he was looking at the door — at the space where you’d just been standing in that top, leaning on his counter, letting him look — with an expression Heeseung couldn’t quite name. Something had landed and settled behind his eyes.

“Who was that?” Heeseung said.

Riki looked down at his phone. “Some hot girl.”

“Some hot girl,” Heeseung repeated.

“Wanted a tragus piercing.”

“Uh huh.” Heeseung looked at the counter. At the space where Riki’s personal card had been sitting ten minutes ago, now somewhere in your bag on the way home. “You give clients your personal card often?”

Riki said nothing. Heeseung looked back at his tablet. “Right,” he said quietly, and said nothing else.

Three weeks later you were standing outside Studio 13 again and this time you were completely, annoyingly sober. “I don’t know why I’m here,” you said.

“Because Riki said come back sober and you kept his card for three weeks,” Ria said, pushing the door open.

“I kept it by accident.”

“In your purse.”

“That’s where cards go.”

“You don’t keep any other cards in your purse, Y/N. I’ve seen your purse. It’s a graveyard of receipts and one lip liner.” You followed her inside because the alternative was standing on the pavement arguing with her and you’d already lost this argument six times on the way over.

Ria had a tattoo appointment. That was the reason you were here. You were just here for moral support. You were going to sit in a chair and look at your phone and not think about the guy who had looked at you like that and said I’ll take care of you with complete sincerity and a smirk that should have been annoying.

The door swung shut behind you. Same as before — black walls, flash art, red light, the slow dark playlist. A different energy in the daytime though, busier, more lived-in. Jay was at the side counter doing something with ink caps, talking loudly to no one in particular. Jake was sweeping near the back. Heeseung was visible through the half-open door of the back room, head down, working.

No one at the front desk. You relaxed slightly. Ria was already at the counter, checking in for her appointment, and you drifted toward the flash wall and started looking at the art because it was genuinely good and also because you needed something to do with your eyes.

You heard the door from the back open. Heard footsteps. Heard someone say, “Riki, someone’s here—” You turned around because you were a person with normal human reflexes and not because your body had already clocked the name.

Riki came through the back door with a pair of gloves half-on, looking down at the appointment book, and then he looked up.

He saw Ria first. Then his eyes moved — one smooth, unhurried slide — and found you standing by the flash wall in your jeans and your jacket looking like someone who was absolutely only here for moral support. “Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” you said. There was a pause that lasted slightly too long for two people who didn’t know each other.

“You came back,” he said.

“Ria has an appointment.”

“Right.” He looked at you. “And you’re just here for Ria.”

“Correct.”

“Nothing to do with the card.”

“I forgot I even had it.”

“Uh huh.” He pulled the second glove on, still looking at you, and the smirk had settled into something warmer now — less performance, more genuinely pleased. “How’s the tragus feeling? Still decisive?”

Ria made a sound from the counter that she turned into a cough. You didn’t look at her. “I’m considering my options,” you said.

“Good answer.” He turned to Ria, professional now, easy switch. “Ria, yeah? Heeseung’s got you, he’s just finishing up. Five minutes.”

“Perfect,” Ria said, and then immediately looked at you with an expression that meant she was storing everything and you would be debriefed extensively later.

Riki came around the counter. Didn’t go back to the desk — came and stood near the flash wall, close enough to talk, far enough to be plausibly looking at the art. “You look different,” he said.

“I’m sober.”

“That’s probably it.” His eyes did the thing — a brief, easy drop and return, taking in the jacket, the jeans, the way you were standing — and then he was looking at your face again like that was just how he operated. Open about it. Unbothered. “Still good though.”

“You’re very confident,” you said.

“I’m accurate,” he said. You looked at Riki. He looked back. This close you could see the bar through his tongue properly — silver, subtle when his mouth was closed, noticeable when he talked — and the ring in his ear and the way his rings shifted when he crossed his arms.

“So,” he said. “You actually want the piercing or did you come all the way here just to tell me you forgot my card existed?”

“I could still want the piercing.”

“You could.” He tilted his head slightly. “Do you?”

You held out for three more seconds. Then: “Yeah.”

His smile did the thing again — the slow, settled version, the one that looked like satisfaction and something warmer underneath it. “On the house,” he said.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know.” He was already moving back toward the piercing station, unhurried, like it was decided. “Come on.”

The piercing chair was in a partitioned section near the back — semi-private, its own mirror, a tray of tools laid out with the kind of precision that told you he took this seriously. He snapped a fresh pair of gloves on and gestured to the chair and you sat down and tried to look like you were not thinking about the last time you’d been in this general vicinity, considerably less sober, telling him he had criminally pretty eyes. You were thinking about it.

He adjusted the chair height without asking, tilted the light, and then stepped in close to look at your ear. His fingers were gentle when they touched the outer ridge — thumb pressing lightly to test the cartilage, professional and careful — and he was close enough that you could smell whatever he was wearing, something dark and clean. “Tragus is a good choice,” he said, still examining your ear. “Suits you.”

“You can tell that from my ear?”

“I can tell from your face.” He stepped back, reached for the marking pen. “You’ve got good bone structure. Something small here draws attention without being loud.” He met your eyes in the mirror. “You’re already loud enough.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“It was one.” He marked the spot with the pen — quick, precise — and then held up a small mirror so you could check the placement. His hand was steady. Everything about him was steady, which was both reassuring and slightly irritating. “Good?” he said.

“Good.”

He put the mirror down. Reached for the needle. And then paused, looking at you in the main mirror with an expression that was more direct than the smirk — more level. “You nervous?” he said.

“No.”

“Your jaw is doing something.”

“My jaw is fine.”

“Y/N.”

“I’m a little nervous,” you said. “About the needle. Not about—” You stopped.

“Not about?” he said.

You looked at him in the mirror. He looked back. The smirk was quiet right now, just his face, just the question sitting there. “The needle,” you said. “I said what I said.”

He let it go. Looked back at your ear, positioned his hands. “Breathe in,” he said. You breathed in. “Out.”

You breathed out and he moved — quick and precise and over before you’d finished processing it. A sharp bite of pressure, brief, clean, and then his hands were already switching out the needle for the jewellery, smooth and practiced. “Done,” he said.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.” He stepped back to let you see in the mirror. Small flat-back stud, exactly where the mark had been, sitting perfectly. “What do you think?”

You looked at it. Turned your head slightly. It was — actually exactly right, the placement, the size, the way it sat. “I think you’re good at your job,” you said.

“I know.” But he said it lightly, without the edge, and when you looked at him in the mirror he was looking at the piercing with something that read like quiet pride. Like he actually cared that it was right.

He peeled his gloves off. Started going through aftercare — saline spray, what to avoid, how long to leave it — and you listened and watched his hands and thought about how he’d looked at you when you walked in. That slow, settled smile. You came back. Like he’d known you would. “Any questions?” he said.

“No.”

“Good.” He handed you the small aftercare card. His fingers brushed yours when he passed it over and he didn’t move his hand immediately, just let the contact sit there for a second before stepping back. “You should come back in four weeks so I can check it.”

“Is that standard?”

“For you it is.”

You looked up at him. He was close still, leaning against the counter beside the chair, arms crossed, completely at ease with the proximity and what he was saying and the way he was looking at you. “That’s a very smooth way to make a follow-up appointment,” you said.

“I’m a smooth guy.”

“You’re a cocky guy.”

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.” He smiled properly. “Four weeks, Y/N. I’ll be here.” From the main floor, very clearly, you heard Jay say to Jake in a voice that carried: “Twenty says she’s back in two.”

Heeseung appeared in the doorway of his room as you were walking back out to wait for Ria. He looked at you. Then at Riki, who was cleaning up the station behind you. He said nothing.

When you were out of earshot, he leaned in the doorway and looked at Riki with a level expression. Riki didn’t look up. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were going to.”

Heeseung was quiet for a moment. “She coming back?”

Riki stacked the packaged jewellery back in the tray. “Four weeks.”

Heeseung looked at the ceiling. Looked back down. “Right,” he said, and went back into his room.

Riki looked up once — just once — at where you’d gone back to sit with Ria, talking and laughing, your hand coming up to touch the new piercing gently like you were checking it was real. He looked back down at the tray. Picked up his phone. Set it down again. Four weeks was a long time.

You were back in two weeks. You told yourself you had a legitimate reason. The piercing felt slightly tender on one side and the aftercare card said to come back if anything felt off and this was a medical concern, essentially, and had nothing to do with anything else. Ria, when you told her this, said “uh huh” in the exact same tone Riki had used and you’d hung up on her.

You pushed the door to Studio 13 open at four on a Thursday afternoon.

Jay was at the front counter this time. He looked up, recognized you, and his whole face did something delighted. “Y/N,” he said, like you were a returning champion.

“Hey.” You unwound your scarf. “Is Riki—”

“In the back.” Jay was already leaning back in his chair, tilting toward the hallway. “Riki.”

“I could have just—”

“RIKI. Your girl’s here.”

From the back, a pause. Then footsteps. Riki appeared in the doorway with a black coffee in one hand and his phone in the other and when he saw you something moved across his face — quick, controlled — before it settled into the usual. “Two weeks,” he said.

“I know.”

“I said four.”

“The piercing felt off.”

He looked at you. You looked back. He took a slow sip of his coffee. “Come here,” he said. Back in the piercing section again. The chair, the mirror, the tray. He set his coffee down on the counter and snapped gloves on and tilted your chin to the side with two fingers, turning your head so the light hit the piercing properly.

He was quiet while he looked. Close, the way he’d been last time, close enough that you were aware of exactly how tall he was and exactly how little space existed between you. “Looks fine,” he said.

“It felt tender.”

“New cartilage piercing. It’s going to feel tender.” He turned your head a fraction more, examining the entry and exit points. “You sleeping on it?”

“Sometimes.”

“Don’t.” His thumb pressed gently just below the piercing, checking the tissue. “You’re not rotating it, are you?”

“The card said not to.”

“People do it anyway.”

“I follow instructions.” He made a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. His fingers were still at your jaw, light but there, and in the mirror you could see him looking at the piercing with that focused, careful expression he got when he was working — like the rest of him went quiet and it was just this, just the task, just making sure it was right.

“It’s fine,” he said again, quieter this time. “A little irritated but nothing bad. You’re cleaning it?”

“Twice a day.”

“Good girl.” He said it the same way he said everything — even, unbothered — and went right back to examining the piercing like he hadn’t just said it, like it was nothing, like your entire nervous system hadn’t just done something embarrassing.

He stepped back. Pulled one glove off. In the mirror you watched him look at you — your face this time, not the piercing — and the focused work expression shifted back into something more personal. His eyes moved down briefly, back up. Unhurried. Unapologetic. “You didn’t just come for the piercing check,” he said.

It wasn’t a question. “I was in the area,” you said.

“Y/N.”

“I was.”

“Okay.” He pulled the second glove off, dropped them both in the bin. Leaned against the counter beside the chair with his arms crossed, looking at you with that steady, patient expression. Like he had all the time in the world and was fully prepared to wait you out.

The rings on his fingers caught the light. The bar through his tongue was visible when he spoke and sometimes when he didn’t, a small flash of silver that your eyes kept going back to without your permission. “Can I ask you something?” you said.

“Go ahead.”

You nodded toward his mouth. “Does it affect anything? The tongue piercing.”

The corner of his mouth pulled up. He knew exactly what you were asking and you both knew you both knew it. “Depends what you mean by anything,” he said.

“Talking,” you said. “Eating.”

“No,” he said. “It doesn’t affect talking or eating.”

The way he said it made the implication sit in the room like a third person. “And what about—” you started.

“Yes,” he said simply. You looked at him. He looked back at you, completely relaxed, the smirk at about thirty percent, like he was letting you sit in the answer rather than pushing it.

“That was going to be a different question…” you said.

“Was it?” It wasn’t.

You looked away first, which you were counting as a tactical retreat rather than losing, and he made that almost-laugh sound again and pushed off the counter. “Come out front,” he said. “I’ll get you the saline to take home.”

Jay was now pretending to organize a drawer he had clearly already organized when you came back out. Jake had appeared from somewhere and was leaning on the wall near the door with his phone out. The effort to look casual was extraordinary.

Riki went behind the counter, got the saline, slid it across to you.“Stop sleeping on it,” he said.

“I’ll try.”

“Don’t try. Just don’t do it.”

“You’re bossy,” you said.

“I’m thorough.” He leaned on the counter. His forearms were right there, the sleeve on full display this close — you’d been trying not to look at it properly but it was a lot of work. Intricate blackwork, something that looked botanical near his wrist, darker geometry climbing toward his elbow. “Like the sleeve?” he said.

You looked up. He’d caught you. “It’s good work,” you said.

“Heeseung did most of it.”

“Heeseung tattooed you?”

“First one when I started here.” Something shifted slightly in his face — not closed off, just more considered. “Kind of a thing between us.”

You wanted to ask what kind of thing. Something in how he’d said it made you not push. “You do your own piercings?” you said instead.

He tilted his head so you could see the earring. “This one.”

“Doesn’t that hurt more when it’s yourself?”

“Yeah.”

“And you did it anyway.”

“I do most things anyway,” he said. He said it lightly but there was something under it, something matter-of-fact about pain being a variable he’d simply accounted for. You looked at him for a second longer than you meant to. “Four weeks,” he said, quieter now, just to you. “Come back in four weeks and I’ll check it properly. And if you’re in the area before that—” he held your gaze — “you know where we are.”

“Very smooth,” you said.

“You keep saying that.”

“You keep proving it.” He smiled. The real one — not the smirk, not the performance, the actual smile that did something to his whole face. You’d only seen it once before, the night you came in drunk when he laughed at something Ria said, and it was worse up close and sober.

You picked up the saline. Shouldered your bag. “Thanks for checking it,” you said.

“Anytime.”

You were halfway to the door when Jay said, loudly, to no one: “Two weeks. Called it.”

“Jay,” Riki said, flat.

“I’m just saying—”

“Jay.” You pushed the door open and let it close on whatever Jay said next. On the pavement you breathed in cold air and stood there for a second. I do most things anyway. You thought about that the whole way home.

You texted Ria that night.

you: the piercing was fine btw. just irritated.

Ria: sure

you: it was a legitimate medical concern

Ria: how did he look

you: that’s not relevant

Ria: how did he LOOK

You stared at your phone. Put it face down. Picked it up again.

you: good. he looked good. go to sleep.

Ria: 😭😭😭 Y/N YOU ARE SO DOWN BAD

You put your phone on the charger and lay on your back in the dark and stared at the ceiling. The bar through his tongue caught the light when he talked. Yes, he’d said. Like it was nothing. Like he said it every day. You put a pillow over your face.

Across the city, Studio 13 was closing up. Heeseung was cashing out. Jake was wiping down surfaces. Jay was retelling the afternoon to Sunghoon, who had come in for his evening shift and was listening with the specific expression of someone enjoying information they could use later.

Riki was at the piercing station. Cleaning the tray. Doing the same task he’d done a hundred times. “She came back in two weeks,” Jay said.

“I heard,” Sunghoon said.

“I called it.”

“You did call it.”

“Riki,” Jay said. “You owe me twenty.”

“I don’t owe you anything,” Riki said. “We didn’t make a bet.”

“Spiritually we did.” Riki said nothing. Put the tray away.

“She’s coming back in four weeks,” Jay told Sunghoon.

“Or two,” Sunghoon said.

“Or two,” Jay agreed.

“Both of you,” Riki said, without heat, “can shut up.”

They did not shut up. He let them talk and went back to the tray and thought about the way you’d looked at his mouth when you asked about the piercing. The way your eyes had gone somewhere specific and come back and you’d tried to cover it with a different question.

He’d watched the answer land. Had watched you process it and look away and call it a tactical retreat when it wasn’t. He was good at reading people. He’d had to be, for a long time, for reasons that had nothing to do with tattoo shops or piercing chairs.

You were going to come back before four weeks. He put the tray away and picked up his coffee and didn’t say any of that out loud.

You were back in ten days. You didn’t have a reason this time. You’d run out of reasons. You showed up at three on a Wednesday with two coffees and the vague awareness that something had shifted from I’m in the area to something you didn’t have a word for yet. Jay opened the door before you reached it. “She’s got coffee,” he announced into the shop.

“Jay—”

“Is one of those for me?” He was already holding the door open, looking at the cups in your hand with genuine hope.

“No.”

“Y/N.”

“I brought two.”

“There are multiple people here who drink coffee.”

“There are two coffees,” you said. “Do the math.”

Jay looked wounded. You walked past him into the shop and he let the door close and called after you: “I’m telling Riki you were mean to me.”

“Please do.” Riki was at the front counter. Actually at the counter this time, not coming through from the back, sitting on the stool with his forearms on the desk and his phone in his hand. He looked up when you came in and his eyes went straight to the cups. Then to your face. Then he smiled — not the smirk, not the performance, just a real and immediate thing that he didn’t seem to think about first. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey.” You put one of the coffees on the counter in front of him. “I didn’t know how you take it.”

He looked at the cup. Looked at you. “Black is fine,” he said.

“Lucky guess.”

“Is it?” He picked it up. His fingers overlapped yours on the cup for a second before you let go — brief, probably accidental, neither of you addressed it. He took a sip. Put it down. “Ten days.”

“I know.”

“Getting closer to two weeks, not further.”

“I’ve been busy,” you said. “This was the first chance I had to—”

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“You don’t need a reason,” he said simply. You looked at him. He looked back, completely even, like he’d just said something neutral about the weather. “Sit down.”

That was how it started. Not with anything dramatic. Just you sitting on the other side of the counter on a Wednesday afternoon with a coffee while Riki worked through his admin, and the conversation that happened around it — easy and unhurried, drifting from one thing to another, the kind of talk that didn’t feel like it was going anywhere because it didn’t need to.

You learned things without asking for them. That he’d been at Studio 13 for two years. That he and Jay had met here. That he had opinions about piercing placement that were borderline philosophical and he’d share them unprompted if you let him.

He learned things back. That you were in your final year. That Ria had been your best friend since you were sixteen. That you had three other piercings already and had done two of them yourself, which made him look up from his phone with an expression that was equal parts impressed and horrified. “You did your own helix,” he said.

“With a kit.”

“A kit.”

“People do it.”

“People also do a lot of things I have to fix,” he said, and leaned across the counter to look at your ear without asking. His fingers found the helix piercing, examining it with the same careful focus he brought to everything, and you sat very still. “It’s crooked,” he said.

“I know.”

“I can fix it.”

“I know.”

He was still looking at your ear, close, his thumb light against the cartilage. “Why haven’t you?”

“I kept meaning to.” You paused. “And then I found Studio 13 and I figured I’d—”

You stopped. He pulled back just enough to look at your face. His expression said he’d heard the end of the sentence even though you hadn’t said it. “Figured you’d what?” he said.

“Come here eventually,” you said. “For things.”

The smirk appeared. “For things.”

“Piercings.”

“Right.” He stepped back, let you breathe, picked his coffee back up. “I’ll fix it whenever you want.”

“Add it to my tab.”

“You don’t have a tab. Everything I do to you is on the house.” He said it completely straight and then looked at his phone, leaving you to sit in the everything I do to you by yourself.

Jay appeared from the back at that exact moment, looked at you both, looked at the counter between you, and went directly back the way he came without saying anything, which was somehow more powerful than if he had.

Hana came with you the following Wednesday. She had been angling to see the shop since Ria had described it in approximately four hundred texts and the second she walked in she stopped in the middle of the floor and looked around with wide eyes. “Oh,” she said. “Oh this place is cool.”

Jake, who was at the side counter, looked up. Hana looked at Jake. Jake looked at Hana. You filed that away.

Riki was with a client in the piercing section — you could see him through the partition, gloved up, talking the client through something in that low steady voice. You hadn’t told him you were coming. You weren’t sure why, except that you’d wanted to know what it felt like to walk in and see him before he saw you. It felt like something, as it turned out.

He was focused on his client, head tilted, hands precise. He’d pushed his sleeves up and the full length of the tattoo was visible now — blackwork that climbed from his wrist to somewhere past his elbow, detailed and dark. He was saying something that made the client laugh. Patient and calm and completely in his element.

You stood there and looked at him for maybe four seconds too long.

“Y/N,” Hana said quietly beside you.

“What.”

“You’ve got a face on.”

“I don’t have a face.”

“You’ve got a very specific face.” She looked at Riki. Looked at you. “Oh you are done.”

“I’m looking at the flash art,” you said, and turned to look at the flash art.

Jay materialized at your shoulder. “She does this every time,” he told Hana, like you weren’t standing right there. “Comes in, looks at him, then looks at the wall.”

“I can hear you,” you said.

“I know.” Jay smiled. “Coffee?”

Riki’s client left at half past three. He came through from the partition still pulling his gloves off and stopped when he saw you and Hana at the counter with Jay. The gloves came off slower. “You didn’t text,” he said to you.

“Spontaneous visit.”

“Hm.” He dropped the gloves, came around to the main counter. His eyes moved to Hana briefly, assessing, friendly. “Friend?”

“Hana,” you said. “She wanted to see the shop.”

“Welcome.” He said it to Hana and then his attention came back to you in that way it always did — like you were the fixed point and everything else was peripheral. “How’s the piercing?”

“Fine. Good.”

“You sleeping on it?”

“Mostly not.”

“Y/N.”

“Mostly not. I’m a side sleeper, it’s a process.”

He leaned on the counter. His coffee was cold by now but he picked it up anyway. “I’ll fix the helix today if you want. While you’re here.”

“Yeah?”

“Chair’s free.” Hana’s elbow found your ribs with surgical precision. You ignored it.

“Okay,” you said.

The helix took ten minutes. Precise, careful, the same focused quiet he brought every time. Afterwards he checked the tragus — habit, he said, like that was a normal thing, like of course he was checking it — and you sat in the chair and let him and looked at his face in the mirror while he was looking at your ear.

Up close like this you could see things you couldn’t from the other side of a counter. The small scar through his left eyebrow, barely visible. The way his jaw set when he was concentrating. The rings on his fingers — he took them off for client work and put them back on after, and watching him slide them back on was a thing you were apparently noticing now.

He caught you in the mirror. Didn’t call you out. Just held your gaze for a second and then looked back at the piercing, and the corner of his mouth moved slightly. “Good,” he said. “Helix looks better. You’ll need to re-do the aftercare cycle.”

“I know.”

“You actually know or you’re saying you know?”

“Riki.”

“I’ll write it down.”

“I literally work a piercing counter in my memory called things Riki has told me,” you said.

He went still for a half second. Then: “Yeah?”

“You’re very thorough,” you said. “It sticks.”

He looked at you in the mirror. Steady, quiet, something behind his eyes that was more than the usual easy confidence — something that had weight to it. “Good,” he said, quieter.

He stepped back. Started cleaning up. Normal, routine, the way he always moved through the shop like everything was exactly where it was supposed to be. “Same time next week?” he said. It wasn’t really a question.

“Sure,” you said.

In the main shop, Hana was sitting on the counter watching Jake explain the difference between traditional and neo-traditional tattooing with the energy of someone who had found religion. Jay was watching this with profound satisfaction. When you came back out Hana looked at you and then at Riki behind you and then at you again. “We should go,” you said.

“Should we,” Hana said.

“Yes.”

“Jake was just explaining—”

“Hana.” She got up, reluctantly, and said goodbye to Jake in a way that suggested she was also going to be back before four weeks. Jake watched her go with an expression that Riki clocked and then looked away from like he hadn’t seen it.

At the door you turned back. Riki was at the counter, already on his phone, or pretending to be. “Thanks for the helix,” you said.

“Anytime.” He didn’t look up. “Wednesday?”

“Wednesday,” you said. Jay made a noise. Riki didn’t look at him. You pushed the door open and the cold air hit you and behind you you heard Jay say, quiet and satisfied to no one in particular: “Regular.”

The Wednesday visits became a thing. Not every week, sometimes every ten days, but consistent enough that Jay started having your coffee order ready. Consistent enough that Jake stopped looking surprised when you walked in. Consistent enough that Heeseung, who said little and noticed everything, started nodding at you when you arrived like you’d passed some quiet assessment he’d been running.

Riki never texted first. You did sometimes — nothing significant, a meme about piercings, a question about aftercare that you probably knew the answer to. He always replied. Never with much. But always.

The counter between you was becoming a problem. Not the physical one — the metaphorical one. The distance that was exactly the right size for this isn’t anything yet and felt increasingly inadequate for what was actually happening in the space between you every Wednesday afternoon. He looked at you like you were a decision he’d already made. You were starting to think you had too.

Daniel texted on a Thursday.

Daniel: hey, haven’t seen you around much. you ok?

You stared at it. You and Daniel had two seminars together and a loose group chat and approximately nothing else, and this was the third text this week.

you: yeah all good, just busy

Daniel: we should get coffee sometime

you: I’m pretty slammed rn, sorry

You thought nothing of it. You mentioned it to Riki the following Wednesday — offhand, in the middle of a conversation about something else, not thinking. “This guy in my seminar keeps texting,” you said. “It’s starting to get annoying.”

Riki was writing something on the appointment book. His pen slowed.“What guy?” he said.

“Daniel. We’re in the same module. He keeps asking for coffee.” Riki’s pen stopped. You looked up. His face was the same — neutral, easy — but something had shifted underneath it. Something had gone very still in the specific way of a thing that was actively being held still.

“You said no?” he said.

“Obviously. I’m not interested.”

A pause. He looked back at the appointment book. Wrote something. “Good,” he said.

Just that. Good. You looked at him for a second. “Riki.”

“Hm.”

“Are you—”

“Helix check,” he said, and stood up from the stool. You let him redirect you. Sat in the chair. Let him check the helix he’d fixed two weeks ago and didn’t need to check again. His hands were as steady as they always were. His voice was as even.

But when you looked at him in the mirror his jaw was set in a way it wasn’t usually and his eyes, when they met yours in the reflection, had something in them that was more than the usual warm certainty. Something that looked a lot like mine with nowhere to go yet. You looked away first. Neither of you said anything about it.

Daniel was waiting outside your seminar on Tuesday. Not accidentally. He was leaning on the wall opposite the door with his phone out, and when you came through he pushed off and fell into step beside you like it was coordinated, like he’d timed it. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey.” You kept walking.

“Good seminar?”

“It was fine.”

“I thought Professor Kim made a good point about the—”

“Daniel.” You stopped. Turned to face him. He was decent looking, objectively — tall, friendly face, the kind of guy who probably did well in situations where persistence read as flattering. “What’s going on?”

He smiled. Easy, practiced. “I was thinking we could grab that coffee.”

“I said I was slammed.”

“You’re not slammed right now.”

“I have somewhere to be.”

“Where?”

You looked at him. “That’s not really—”

“I’ll walk you,” he said. Like that was a reasonable response. Like the answer to I have somewhere to be was I’ll come.

“Daniel.” You kept your voice even. “I appreciate it but I’m not interested. Okay? Not trying to be harsh, just being clear.”

Something moved across his face — not anger, more like recalibration, like he was filing this away as a temporary obstacle. “Maybe just as friends,” he said.

“I’m good. Thanks though.” You walked away. Heard him say something behind you — see you Thursday — and didn’t respond. You texted Ria about it on the bus.

you: the Daniel thing is getting annoying

Ria: what happened?

you: he waited outside my seminar

Ria: ew

you: I told him straight I’m not interested

Ria: good. are you telling riki?

You stared at that.

you: why would I tell riki??

Ria: because you tell riki everything now??

you: I do not tell riki everything

Ria: you told him about your mum’s cat

you: that came up naturally and I’m not telling him, it’s not a big deal

You put your phone in your bag. You didn’t tell him.

Wednesday came and you sat at the counter with your coffee and talked about other things — Hana and Jake’s ongoing situation, which was developing at a glacial pace that was driving Ria insane. A new flash piece Heeseung had drawn that you’d been looking at for twenty minutes when you came in. Whether you should get a second tragus on the other ear. “Yes,” Riki said, without hesitation.

“That’s a very immediate answer.”

“It’s an obvious answer.” He looked at your ears, both sides, that assessing look. “Symmetrical double tragus. Come in next week.”

“Maybe I want to think about it.”

“You don’t need to think about it.”

“Riki.”

“You came in drunk wanting a tragus piercing,” he said. “You knew then. You know now.”

You looked at him. He looked back with the patience of someone who was completely certain and was willing to wait for you to catch up. “Fine,” you said.

He smiled. “Next week,” he said.

The following Tuesday Daniel was outside your seminar again. This time you saw him before he saw you and you changed direction, took the long way to the exit, added seven minutes to your walk. Small, manageable.

On Thursday he was in the coffee queue behind you. “Coincidence,” he said, and smiled at you, and you smiled back tightly and paid for your coffee and left.

On Friday he messaged. Again.

Daniel: hey saw you in the queue yesterday, why’d you leave so fast?

You didn’t reply. And he messaged again on Saturday.

Daniel: did I do something wrong?

You showed it to Ria over the phone that night. She was quiet for a second. “He’s not taking the hint,” she said.

“I didn’t hint. I said directly I wasn’t interested.”

“Then he’s not taking the direct statement.”

“Yeah.”

Another pause. “Tell Riki.”

“Ria—”

“Y/N I’m serious, tell—”

“It’s fine. I can handle it.”

“I know you can handle it, that’s not the—” She stopped. “Just tell him. You know you want to.” You didn’t answer that.

Wednesday came around, you’d been at the counter for forty minutes. Jay had come and gone twice. Jake had shown Hana something on his phone that made her laugh and Riki had looked at that for approximately one second before very deliberately looking elsewhere.

You were mid-sentence about something — your dissertation, probably, you’d been complaining about your dissertation — when the door opened.

Sunghoon came in from his afternoon off, still in his jacket, unwinding his scarf. He was unfairly attractive and moved through the shop like he knew it, dropping his bag behind the counter and immediately coming over to where you were sitting. “Y/N.” He leaned on the counter beside Riki’s stool, friendly, easy. “How’s the tragus?”

“Good.” You touched it briefly. “Riki’s doing the other side next week.”

“Nice. You should let me draw something for you. Little custom piece, just here—” he touched his own collarbone— “would suit you.”

“Yeah?”

“Hundred percent.” He looked at Riki. “Right?” Riki was looking at his phone. “Riki,” Sunghoon said.

“Hm.” He didn’t look up. Sunghoon looked at you with a small what’s his problem expression. You looked back with a I genuinely don’t know expression.

You talked to Sunghoon for twenty more minutes. He was easy to talk to — funny, straightforward, the kind of person who filled a room without trying. He showed you his portfolio on his phone, talked you through a couple of pieces, asked about your university course with actual interest.

Riki stayed on his stool. He wasn’t on his phone. You could tell because you kept looking over and the screen was dark. He was just sitting there in the specific stillness of something being actively held in place, forearms on the desk, jaw set. When Sunghoon went to the back to change into his work clothes you turned to Riki. “What’s wrong with you?” you said.

“Nothing.”

“You’ve said four words in the last twenty minutes.”

“I’ve been busy.”

You looked at the dark phone screen. Looked at him. “Riki.”

“I’m fine.” He finally looked at you. His face was even, controlled, the expression he wore when he was putting effort into the expression. “You want more coffee?”

“No.” You kept your voice low. Jay and Jake were across the room but still. “Talk to me.”

Something moved behind his eyes. For a second you thought he was going to — actually going to, drop whatever this was and say it. His jaw shifted. His eyes moved over your face and then away. “It’s nothing,” he said. “Forget it.”

“Riki—”

“Forget it, Y/N.” Quiet. Final. Not angry — worse, flat. Decided.

You looked at him for a long moment. He looked at the counter. You picked up your bag. “I’m going to head,” you said.

He looked up then. Quick, like he hadn’t expected it. “You don’t have to—”

“I have stuff to do.” You stood up. Your voice was even, you’d made sure of it. “I’ll see you next week for the tragus.”

“Y/N—”

“Bye, Riki.” You said goodbye to Jay on the way out. Waved at Jake. Pushed the door open into the cold.

Behind you, through the glass, you heard Jay say something. Heard Riki’s voice, short and clipped. Didn’t hear the words. You walked to the bus stop and stared at the road and felt something hot and frustrated sitting in your chest that you didn’t have a clean name for.

He texted at nine that night.

Riki: I’m sorry about today

You stared at it.

Riki: I get like that sometimes. I don’t like it.

Another one, a minute later.

Riki: It wasn’t about Sunghoon. It wasn’t about you.

Riki: ok it was about Sunghoon.

You sat on your bed with your phone in your hand and read that three times.

you: do you want to tell me what “getting like that” means??

A pause. Longer than his usual response time.

Riki: Not over text. Wednesday?

you: yeah

you: Riki, Sunghoon was just being friendly

Riki: I know. I know that. It doesn’t always

The message cut off. Like he’d deleted the end of it and sent what was left.

Riki: Wednesday. I’ll explain.

Riki: night Y/N

You got there at three. Jay handed you your coffee without being asked and then found somewhere else to be, which meant Riki had said something to him beforehand, which meant he’d been thinking about this. Riki was at the counter. He looked up when you came in and the usual ease wasn’t fully there — not gone, just quieter, like he’d dialed something back. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey.” You sat down. Wrapped both hands around the coffee. “So.”

“So.” He exhaled. Looked at the counter for a second, then at you. “I get possessive.” He said it straight. No build up, no softening — just put it on the counter between you like something he’d decided you should see.

“Okay,” you said.

“I don’t like it,” he said. “It’s not — I’m not trying to make it your problem. I know Sunghoon wasn’t doing anything. I know you weren’t doing anything. It just—” He stopped. His jaw shifted. “It sits wrong. Someone else in your space. Being the thing making you laugh.”

You looked at him. His eyes were on the counter, which was unusual — Riki who held eye contact through everything. “Has it always been like that?” you said.

“Yeah.” Simple. “Better than it used to be.”

“What was it like before?”

He looked up. “Worse.” A pause. “I dealt with it badly. I’m not—” He stopped again. “I’m not like that anymore. I don’t act on it. But I feel it and sometimes it makes me go quiet and disappear into my own head and that’s not fair to you.”

You sat with that. “Why are you telling me this?” you said.

He held your gaze. “Because you asked.”

“People don’t always answer when you ask.”

“I know.” Something in his face. “You should know what you’re—” He stopped himself again, and you heard the end of that sentence clearly even without the words. What you’re getting into. What I am.

“Riki,” you said. “If Sunghoon had been doing something—” You held his eyes. “Or anyone. I’d handle it. That’s not— I’m not someone who needs protecting from other people’s attention.”

“I know that.”

“But I’m also not—” You paused. Chose the words. “I’m not interested in other people’s attention. Okay? That’s just—” You shrugged. “That’s just where I’m at.”

The silence that followed had weight to it. Riki looked at you. Really looked — the way he did sometimes, like he was reading something underneath the surface of what you’d said, like he was checking if you meant it.You meant it. “Okay,” he said quietly.

“Okay,” you said.

He exhaled. Something in his shoulders dropped slightly — barely visible, but there. “Tragus,” he said.

“Tragus,” you agreed. He stood up from the stool. And as he passed behind the counter his hand came down briefly on yours where it rested on the surface — just for a second, just his fingers over your knuckles, warm and solid — and then he was moving through to the piercing section and the moment was gone.

You sat there for a second. Then you followed him. Across the room Jay looked at Heeseung in the doorway of his office. Heeseung looked back. Neither of them said anything.

It happened on a Friday. Not a Wednesday. Not planned. You’d come in with Hana at five because she’d finally committed to a small piece on her ankle and wanted moral support, and by the time Jake was finishing up the linework the shop had emptied out — Sunghoon’s last client gone, Jay heading out with his jacket half on, Heeseung locking his office with his keys already in his hand. “You good to close?” Heeseung said to Riki.

“Yeah.” Riki was wiping down the front counter. “Go.” Heeseung looked at you. Brief, unreadable. Looked back at Riki. Said nothing and left. Jay pointed finger guns at you on his way out. You ignored him.

Jake finished Hana’s piece at half past six. She sat up and looked at it in the mirror with the expression of someone who had just made a very good decision, and then she looked at you and at Riki and made a different kind of decision entirely. “I’ll get a cab,” she said.

“I’ll come,” you said.

“You don’t have to.” Serene. Innocent. Absolutely deliberate. “I’m fine on my own.”

“Hana—”

“I’ll text you when I’m home.” She hugged you, said goodbye to Jake, said goodbye to Riki with a smile that communicated volumes, and then she was gone and Jake was heading out behind her and the door swung shut and the shop was quiet.

Just you and Riki. He was at the front counter. You were near the piercing section. The red light was low and the playlist had shifted to something slower, something with bass underneath it, and the flash art on the walls looked different when there was no one else here — more intimate, like the shop had exhaled. “You can head,” Riki said. He wasn’t looking at you. Wiping the counter, routine.

“I know,” you said.

You didn’t move. He stopped wiping. The silence lasted four seconds. You counted. Then he looked up. The expression on his face wasn’t the smirk. Wasn’t the work focus. It was something stripped back — something that had been running underneath everything for weeks and was apparently done waiting. “Y/N,” he said. Low.

“Yeah,” you said. Like you were answering a question he hadn’t asked yet.

He put the cloth down. He came around the counter and crossed the floor and he didn’t stop until he was right in front of you, close enough that you had to tilt your chin up slightly, and his hand came up to your jaw — not grabbing, just his fingers along the side of your face, tilting you toward him — and he looked at you for one more second like he was making absolutely sure.

Whatever he saw made his mind up. He kissed you and it was nothing like the slow build you’d been expecting — it was immediate, certain, his mouth on yours like he’d been thinking about it for weeks because he had been, and you got your hands into his shirt and kissed him back and the sound he made low in his throat did something catastrophic to your ability to think.

His hands moved — jaw, then your waist, pulling you in until there was no space left between you — and you felt the rings on his fingers through the fabric of your top and his body was solid and warm and there, fully there, nothing held back.

You bit his lower lip without planning to. He pulled back half an inch. His eyes were dark, his breathing had changed, and he looked at you with an expression that rearranged something in your chest. “Do that again,” he said quietly, “and we’re not stopping.”

“Good,” you said. And you did it again. He walked you back until your shoulders hit the wall beside the piercing partition — not rough, controlled, one hand flat against the wall beside your head and the other at your waist, and he kissed you deeper this time, slower, like he had you exactly where he wanted and wasn’t in any rush now that he did.

His tongue — god, his tongue, the bar was there and present and you felt it and made a sound into his mouth that you would have been embarrassed about if his hand hadn’t tightened on your waist the second you did it. “There it is,” he said against your mouth.

“Shut up,” you breathed.

“You’ve been thinking about it.” Not a question. His lips moved to your jaw, your neck, unhurried. “Since I told you.”

“Riki—”

“Yes,” he said, quoting you back to yourself, and you felt him smile against your throat.

“You’re so—”

“I know.” He pulled back to look at you. His hair was slightly wrecked, his eyes were very dark, and he looked at you with the kind of focus he usually reserved for his work — total, precise, like you were something he intended to get exactly right. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to stop talking,” you said.

“No you don’t.” He was right. You didn’t.

“I want—” You stopped. His thumb had found the hem of your top, tracing the skin at your waist, barely moving, just there. Your brain was doing something unhelpful. “I want you to keep going.”

“Keep going,” he repeated. Like he was logging it. “That’s not very specific.”

“Riki.”

“I want to hear you say it.” His voice had dropped, lower than usual, and there was something in it — not a demand exactly, more like an invitation with weight behind it, like he already knew and wanted you to catch up. “Tell me.”

You looked at him. He looked back, steady, patient, his thumb still tracing that small arc at your waist.

“I’ve wanted you for weeks,” you said. “You know that.”

“I know.” He leaned in, his mouth at your ear. “I wanted to hear you say it.” His hands moved — both of them, finding the hem of your top, sliding underneath to your bare waist, warm palms spreading across your skin — and you exhaled shakily and his mouth came back to yours and the patience dissolved.

Somewhere on the walk from the counter to the wall you got his shirt off and you put your hands on his chest and then his stomach and then lower and found the waistband of his jeans and his breath caught — actually caught, an involuntary thing, the first crack in the steady control — and you looked up at him.

His jaw was tight. His eyes were dark and fixed on your face. “Keep going,” he said. His own words back. Low and rough. You undid his jeans. Your hand found him and he was — there was a Jacob’s ladder — you stopped. He watched your face process it.

“Riki,” you said.

“Yeah.” His voice was rough now, the evenness wearing thin at the edges.

“When were you going to—”

“When it came up.”

“It’s come up.”

“It has,” he agreed, and something in his expression was almost amused except he was too far gone for amused, too focused, his hands gripping your waist with more pressure than before. “Still want to keep going?”

You looked at him. “Are you serious right now.”

He laughed — real, brief, surprised out of him — and then his forehead dropped to yours and you felt him exhale and then his mouth was on yours again and the laughing was done. Your jacket off your shoulders and it hit the floor and his mouth was on your throat before it landed — open, hot, his tongue against your pulse point and the piercing bar cool against your skin and you made a sound that echoed off the black walls. “Riki—”

“I know.” His hands were at the hem of your top, shoving it up, impatient in a way that cracked the usual control wide open. “Off.”

You got it off and his hands were on your tits and his mouth came back to yours.

He walked you back into the wall beside the piercing partition — not slow, not careful, just direct — and pinned you there with his body and his hands were everywhere and yours were too and it was nothing like the slow careful thing you’d half imagined. It was desperate. Both of you. Weeks of it.

“You have no idea,” he said against your jaw, your throat, lower, his mouth on your collarbone, “how long I’ve—” He stopped. His teeth grazed your skin. “Fuck.”

“Tell me,” you breathed.

“Since you walked in here in that dress,” he said into your skin. “Since you leaned on my counter and looked at me like that. I’ve been—” His hands found your jeans, the button, the zip. “Since then.” He shoved your jeans down your hips and you kicked them off and his hand pushed between your thighs and found your pussy through the thin fabric still there and pressed and your hips rolled forward hard.

“There,” he said. Low, rough, satisfied. “There you are.” His fingers moved — slow, deliberate, feeling the heat of you through the fabric — and he looked at your face while he did it. Watching. Taking everything. “Soaked already,” he said. “Were you like this the whole time?”

“Don’t—” you started.

“You were.” He pushed the fabric aside and his fingers touched your folds directly and you choked on a breath. The rings were cold, the contrast of it shocking and good and — “Riki—”

“Good girl,” he said quietly. Like it meant something. Like you’d done something right just by responding to him. His fingers moved through your folds and found your clit and you grabbed his shoulders and held on. “So wet. So fucking — look at you.”

“Please—”

“Please what.” His fingers kept moving, unhurried despite everything, despite the fact that you could feel how much he wanted this — felt it against your hip, hard, his own breathing gone ragged at the edges. “Say it.”

“I need—”

“Say it, Y/N.”

“I need you to fuck me,” you said. “Now, Riki, please—” He made a sound low in his throat and his fingers disappeared and he was shoving his own jeans down, just enough, barely, one hand braced on the wall beside your head — and then he looked at you, dark eyes and wrecked hair and jaw set hard.

“Here?” he said. Rough. “Right here?”

“Yes—”

His hand found your pussy again, two fingers pushing inside, testing, and you made an embarrassing sound and he groaned at the feel of you — “fuck you’re—” — and then his fingers were gone and he was there, the head of his cock at your entrance, and you hooked your leg over his hip. He pushed in. Both of you went still. His forehead dropped to yours. Your nails were in his shoulders. The Jacob’s ladder — you felt every single one and your mouth fell open and you heard him exhale shakily above you. “Riki—”

“I know.” His voice was barely there. “I know, just — fuck — just give me a second—”

“Don’t stop,” you said. “Don’t stop, keep—”

He moved. There was nothing controlled about it. That was the thing — Riki who was steady and certain and always in possession of himself — gone. Completely. He fucked you against the wall with his jeans half down and yours on the floor and his rings cold against your thigh where he’d hooked your leg higher and the bar of his tongue in his teeth when he looked at you and it was overwhelming, the closeness of it, the sound of it in the empty shop.

“Good,” he said, rough and low, his hips rolling into you, setting a pace that had your head dropping back against the wall. “Good girl, just like — yeah, just like that—”

“More—”

“Yeah?” He shifted his angle and you cried out and he did it again, deliberate, watching your face. “There?”

“Yes — yes, don’t stop—”

“I’ve got you.” His mouth found your throat. “I’ve got you, you’re doing so — fuck, Y/N, you feel—” He broke off. His rhythm stuttered and recovered. “You feel so good. So fucking good.”

The praise landed somewhere it had no business landing, warm and devastating, and your hips were moving to meet him and your clit was grinding against him with every thrust and you were already… “Riki I’m going to—”

“Do it,” he said immediately. “Cum for me. Come on.” His hand moved between you and his thumb found your clit and pressed and you shattered — your whole body going taut, his name in your mouth, your nails breaking skin on his shoulders — and he fucked you through it, relentless, not letting up—

“That’s it,” he said against your ear, rough and wrecked. “That’s it, good girl, god you’re—” He followed you over the edge not long after — his rhythm breaking, his breath gone, his forehead hard against the wall beside your head — and the sound he made when he came was low and helpless and you felt it everywhere.

There was silence that followed apart from the playlist over the shop speakers. The red light under the door still illuminated. Both of you still against the wall like butter of you planned to move soon, his weight partly on you and partly on his arm and neither of you in any hurry to fix that.

Your leg slid down from his hip. He pulled back enough to look at your face. His hair was completely wrecked. His mouth was slightly swollen. He looked at you with an expression that had nothing performed in it — just open, just him, something that hadn’t had a name all this time and still didn’t quite yet. “Hi,” he said.

You laughed. Surprised out of you, real. He smiled — the real one, the one that changed his whole face — and pressed it briefly into your hair.

You found the back room couch eventually. His shirt on your shoulders. The rings back on his fingers because he’d put them on out of habit and then looked at his own hands like he hadn’t noticed himself doing it. You lay on your back. He sat with his back against the couch, forearm on his knee, looking at the floor. “So,” you said.

“So,” he said.

“What happens now?” you said.

He was quiet for a moment. “What do you want?”

You thought about the card in your bag. The Wednesdays. The way he’d looked at you across the counter every single time like you were a decision he’d already made. “I don’t know yet,” you said. Honest.

“Okay,” he said. Easy. No pressure in it. His hand found yours in the dark. Didn’t make anything of it. Just held on. You stayed on the couch until the playlist rolled over twice. At some point the I don’t know yet became irrelevant because his mouth found your throat again and his hands were back under his shirt on your skin and the question got buried under something more immediate.

You left at nine. He walked you to the door. Held it open, leaned in the frame. The cold air hit you and you turned back. He looked wrecked and unbothered about it. Shirt on, jeans done up, rings on every finger. Hair a disaster. Looking at you with that expression — the settled one, the certain one. “Wednesday,” he said. You nodded.

Neither of you said anything about what it was. That was the agreement, unspoken, the way most things between you and Riki were unspoken. You came in on Wednesdays. Sometimes other days. Sometimes he texted at ten at night — nothing explicit, just you up or studio’s empty — and you went, and nobody named what that meant. It worked. Mostly.

The sex was — there wasn’t a word for it that didn’t sound inadequate. Compulsive was close. Inevitable was closer. Like once the wall had come down neither of you had any interest in rebuilding it, like your bodies had been having a conversation for months and were now just speaking plainly.

He learned you fast. Faster than anyone had. What made you gasp versus what made you come apart completely. The difference between what you asked for and what you actually wanted. He paid attention the way he paid attention to everything — totally, precisely — and used it with a focus that should have been illegal.

You learned him too. That the control was real but thin in the right circumstances. That his jaw set right before it cracked. That he made sounds he didn’t seem to know he was making. That he said your name differently when he was close — shorter, sharper, like he didn’t have room for the full shape of it. That he always, always pulled you back when you tried to move away after. Not possessive. Just — unwilling to let the warmth go yet. You were trying very hard not to think about what that meant.

Three weeks after the first time, on a Tuesday night, you were in the back room of Studio 13 with Riki’s shirt on the floor and your jeans somewhere near the door and his mouth on your throat and his hand between your thighs and the playlist coming through the walls and everything was fine, everything was exactly what it was, unnamed and manageable —

And then he said I’ve got you in that low rough voice right against your ear and something in your chest did a thing it wasn’t supposed to do. You filed it away. Dealt with it later. Later didn’t come because he did something with his tongue that made later completely irrelevant.

Wednesday afternoon. Counter. Coffee. Normal. Easy. The same as it had always been except for the part where it wasn’t because now you knew exactly what his hands felt like and what sounds he made and what his face looked like when the composure cracked and sitting on the other side of a counter from him in the middle of the afternoon was — a different experience than it used to be.

He was telling you something about a client — complicated custom piece, back and forth for weeks on the design — and you were listening and also watching his hands move when he talked, the rings catching the light, and thinking about those hands on your waist last night and… “Y/N.”

You looked up. He was looking at you with the quiet knowing expression. “I was listening,” you said.

“You weren’t.”

“I was. Custom piece. Back and forth on the design. Client keeps changing their mind.”

He tilted his head slightly. The corner of his mouth. “What were you thinking about?”

“The flash art.”

“Hm.” He leaned on the counter. His forearms right there, the sleeve on full display, and he looked at you with that unhurried certainty. “You were looking at my hands.”

“I was looking at your rings.”

“Y/N.”

“They’re interesting rings.”

He held your gaze for a long moment. Then he looked down at his hands, turned them over slowly, looked back up at you with an expression that was doing something to your ability to function. “Come back tonight,” he said.

“I was here last night.”

“I know.”

“And the night before.”

“I know.” He didn’t look remotely apologetic. “Come back tonight.”

You looked at him. “We should probably — this probably shouldn’t be—”

“Probably,” he agreed, like the word meant nothing.

“Riki.”

“Tonight, Y/N.”

You looked at your coffee. At him. At the rings on his hands that you had been thinking about and were now not admitting to thinking about. “Fine,” you said.

He picked up his own coffee. Satisfied. Like there had never been any other outcome. From across the shop Jay said nothing. He had learned, over the past three weeks, that saying things got him absolutely nowhere and had adapted accordingly. He simply made eye contact with Sunghoon across the room and they had an entire conversation without words.

That night after Studio 13 closed, which had become its own specific thing — the red light, the quiet, the shop breathing differently when it was empty. Riki had barely locked the front door before you were crossing the floor toward him and his expression when he turned around and saw you moving like that— “Hi,” he said.

“Hi.” You reached him. Your hands went to his chest, his jaw, pulling him down, and he came without resistance, his hands finding your waist immediately, already knowing where to go.

He kissed you slow this time. Deliberately slow, like he was making a point, like the urgency of the last few weeks had shifted into something that wanted to take its time. That was somehow worse. “Riki,” you said against his mouth.

“Hm.”

“Stop going slow.”

“No.” He kissed your jaw. Your throat. Slow and deliberate, his hands sliding under your top to your bare waist. “I spent all afternoon thinking about this.”

“So did I, that’s why—”

“That’s why we’re taking our time.” His mouth at your collarbone. “I want to—” A pause. His lips against your skin. “I want to take you apart properly. Not fast.”

Your hands tightened in his hair. “That’s not fair,” you said.

“No,” he agreed, and kept going. He got your top off and looked at you in the low light the way he always did — that slow, unapologetic assessment that moved over you like you were worth looking at carefully — and then his mouth found your tits and your head fell back.

His tongue. The bar of it, cool and present, circling your nipple, and you made a sound and his hands tightened on your waist. “Good girl,” he said against your skin. “Just like that.”

“Riki—”

“I’ve got you.” He moved to the other side, same slow attention, his hands holding your waist like you might float away. “I’ve got you, just — yeah, just feel it.” You were going to lose your mind. Your hands found his shirt and he let you get it off and then he was walking you back to the couch in the back room and laying you down and looking at you from above with dark eyes and that expression — the open one, the one that had no performance in it.

He got your jeans off slow. His hands running down your thighs as he pulled them, his mouth following, pressing to your hip, the inside of your knee, and by the time he got back up to your folds you were already soaked. “Riki, please—”

“Please what.” His breath against your inner thigh. Close, not close enough.

“Please—”

“Tell me what you want.” His lips brushed your folds, barely, just the suggestion of pressure. “Tell me.”

“Your mouth,” you said. “Please, your mouth—” He gave it to you. The bar of his tongue against your clit and you grabbed the back of the couch and held on. He ate your pussy like he had nowhere else to be — thorough, focused, the same attention he gave everything — and the sounds he made against you, low and hungry, like he was getting something from it—

“God—” your hips rolled and his hands held them down, firm, keep still, and the loss of control of that made it worse in the best way. “Riki I’m — don’t stop, don’t—”

“Not stopping,” he said against your clit. “Cum for me. Come on.”

You did. He worked you through it until you were pulling at his hair telling him too much, too much and he pressed one last kiss to your inner thigh and came back up your body and looked at your face with an expression that was — satisfied wasn’t the right word. Reverent was closer, which was a thing you were absolutely not processing right now. “Good girl,” he said quietly.

“Stop calling me that,” you said, breathless.

“No,” he said simply, and kissed you.

When he finally pushed inside you both exhaled like something had been solved. Slow, this time. Deep. His forehead against yours, his arms bracketing you, his rings cool against the side of your face where his hand was. “Okay?” he said.

“Yeah.” Your voice wasn’t working right. “Yeah, keep — please keep going.”

He moved. Slow, deep rolls of his hips that had you feeling every ridge of the ladder on every stroke and your mouth kept falling open and he watched it happen. “You feel it,” he said. Low, not a question.

“Yes—”

“Good.” His hips rolled deeper and you gasped. “That’s good, you’re so — fuck, Y/N—” His composure was fraying at the edges, the rhythm getting less controlled. “You take me so well. Every time. Like you were—” He stopped himself.

You looked up at him. His jaw was set, his eyes dark, something moving behind them that he’d just pulled back from saying. “Like I was what,” you said.

He looked at you. For a second — just a second — something was right there on his face, unguarded, something that went past the physical and landed somewhere neither of you had named yet. He kissed you instead of answering.

You let him. Filed it away. Pulled him closer and let the question dissolve into the drag and heat of him moving inside you and his mouth on yours and his hand sliding between you to find your clit— “Riki—”

“I know,” he said. “I know, come on, cum for me again, you can—”

“I can’t—”

“You can.” His thumb on your clit, his cock deep, his voice at your ear. “You can, good girl, come on, let me feel you—” You came with his name in your mouth and your whole body shaking and he followed you with his face pressed into your throat and the sound he made was low and broken and yours.

After his thumb moving slow at your hip. The ceiling. The playlist. You were thinking about like you were— and what came after it. You were thinking about I’ve got you and how he said it every time, always, like a reflex, like something that came from somewhere deeper than the moment.

You were thinking about the fact that you knew what his laugh sounded like — the real one, the surprised one — and that you’d been collecting these things without meaning to and the collection was getting heavy. “Riki,” you said.

“Hm.”

“What are we doing.”

Silence. His thumb stopped moving. Then, carefully: “What do you want to be doing.”

You stared at the ceiling. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”

He was quiet for a long moment. You could feel him thinking — that specific quality of his silences, weighted, considering. “I’m not good at this part,” he said.

“What part.”

“The—” A pause. “Saying things.”

“You say things to me all the time.”

“Not these things.”

You turned your head to look at him. He was looking at the ceiling, jaw slightly tight, the expression of someone navigating something carefully. “What things,” you said quietly.

He turned his head. Your faces close in the dim light. His eyes moved over yours. “I don’t want you going anywhere,” he said. Finally. Quietly. “That’s — that’s what I’ve got right now.”

It wasn’t everything. You both knew it wasn’t everything. But it was Riki, who didn’t say things, saying a thing, and it landed with the weight of something much larger behind it.“Okay,” you said.

“Okay,” he said. His thumb started moving again. You looked back at the ceiling. The unnamed thing stayed unnamed. But it was there, in the room with you, and you both knew it.

The thing about not naming something was that it didn’t stop it from being a thing. It just meant you had no language for it when it started to matter. Four weeks into whatever this was, Ria staged an intervention.

Not a dramatic one — she didn’t have people over or make a presentation, she just showed up at your flat on a Saturday morning with coffee and pastries and sat across from you at your kitchen table with the expression of someone who had been patient for a very long time and was cashing that in now. “Talk,” she said.

“About what.”

“Y/N.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Ria.”

“I want you to say what’s happening with Riki.”

You picked up your coffee. “We’re—”

“If you say friends I’m leaving and taking the pastries.”

You put your coffee down. “It’s complicated.”

“Is it? Or is it simple and you’re making it complicated because you’re scared?”

You looked at her. She looked back with the patience of someone who had known you for six years and had seen every version of your avoidance. “We haven’t put a name on it,” you said.

“Why not.”

“Because—” You stopped. Because he’d said I don’t want you going anywhere and you’d said okay and neither of you had pushed past that. Because every Wednesday and every late night felt like building something and neither of you would say what you were building. “It’s working the way it is.”

“Is it.”

“Yes.”

“You like him.”

“Obviously.”

“Like like him.”

“Ria—”

“Y/N.” She leaned forward. “You went back to that shop every week for two months before anything happened. You know his coffee order, his schedule, what makes him laugh. You’ve met his friends. He checks your piercings as an excuse to be close to you.” She paused. “That’s not complicated. That’s you being terrified.”

You stared at the table. “He’s not easy to read,” you said. Finally.

“He gave you his personal card the night he met you,” Ria said. “Heeseung told me he’d never done that before.”

“When did you talk to Heeseung?”

“Jake texts me sometimes.”

“Jake texts you.”

“That’s not the point.” She pushed a pastry toward you. “The point is that boy is absolutely gone for you and you both keep dancing around it and it’s making everyone at Studio 13 insane, apparently.”

“Everyone?”

“Jay’s exact words were if they don’t sort it out soon I’m locking them in the back room.”

You put your face in your hands. “I don’t know how to do this with him,” you said, muffled. “He doesn’t say things. I don’t push. We just—”

“So say something first,” Ria said simply. “You’re not someone who waits, Y/N. That’s not you. You’re doing it because you’re scared he won’t say it back.” You lifted your face. Said nothing. She was right and you both knew it.

You didn’t say anything that Wednesday. You came close — sitting at the counter, coffee in hand, Riki talking about something, his rings on the desk, his eyes finding yours every few sentences the way they always did — and the words were right there, and you looked at his face, and you thought about Ria’s voice saying terrified, and you said nothing. He looked at you at one point like he knew something was moving behind your eyes. “What,” he said.

“Nothing.” You smiled. “Keep going.” He held your gaze for a second. Let it go.

The following Saturday Sunghoon texted you. Not unusual — you’d exchanged numbers for shop-related things, flash piece ideas, scheduling. He was easy to talk to, straightforward, the kind of person whose texts read exactly like his voice.

Sunghoon: hey, you said you were thinking about a collarbone piece right

you: yeah still thinking

Sunghoon: I drew something. wanna see

He sent a photo. Small, delicate, blackwork — something botanical, two thin stems crossing, minimal and precise. It was exactly your taste and you had no idea how he’d known that.

you: sunghoon this is gorgeous

Sunghoon: right? come in monday, I’ll show you the full size version. riki’s off monday so it’ll be quiet

you: sounds good, see you then

You didn’t think anything of it. Sunghoon was your friend. He’d drawn something for you. You were going to look at it. You didn’t mention it to Riki because there was nothing to mention.

Monday the shop was quieter without Riki in it, which was a thing you noticed and filed away as information you didn’t love having. Sunghoon had the drawing laid out on the counter when you arrived — full size, done properly on transfer paper, and it was even better than the photo. You stood over it with him pointing out the details, his hand close to yours on the paper, talking through placement and sizing and whether to add a third stem.

Jay was pretending to do something at the other counter.bHeeseung was in his office with the door open. “Here,” Sunghoon said, and pressed the transfer paper lightly to your collarbone to show you the placement. His hand steadied it against your skin, professional, and you looked in the mirror and thought yes, that was exactly right. Your phone lit up on the counter.

Riki: you at the shop?

You looked at it. Jay looked at it. Sunghoon didn’t see it.

you: yeah, sunghoon drew something for me. just looking at placement

The three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

Riki: k

One letter.

Riki: looks good?

you: really good actually. he’s talented

The dots again. Then nothing. No reply. You put your phone down. Sunghoon was still talking about the third stem. You looked at the transfer in the mirror and tried to pay attention and felt something uneasy settle in your chest.

Riki was at the counter when you arrived Wednesday. You knew within ten seconds that something was wrong. Not visibly wrong — he looked the same, said hey the same, had your coffee ready the same. But his eyes when they met yours were flatter than usual. The warmth was there but dimmed, like something had been turned down. You sat. Picked up your coffee. “How was your day off?” you said.

“Fine.” He was looking at his phone.

“Did you do anything?”

“Not much.” Jay appeared from the back, clocked the atmosphere in approximately two seconds, and disappeared again.

You watched Riki scroll his phone. His jaw was set. Not dramatically — just tight, controlled, the way it got when he was holding something still. “Riki,” you said.

“Hm.”

“Look at me.” He looked up. The flat quality was more visible face to face. Something was moving behind his eyes that he was keeping on a very short leash. “What’s wrong?” you said.

“Nothing.”

“You’ve said twelve words since I got here.”

“I’ve been busy.”

You looked at him. He looked back, and you could see the effort of it — the effort of sitting in whatever this was and keeping it even. “Is this about Monday?” you said.

Something shifted in his jaw. “No.”

“Riki.”

“It’s not about Monday.”

“So it is about Monday.”

He put his phone down. Flat on the counter. He looked at you with an expression that was very controlled and also not controlled at all if you knew what to look for, and you knew what to look for now. “You went in on my day off,” he said.

“Sunghoon drew something for me. I told you.”

“I know what you told me.”

“Then what—”

“His hands were on you.” Quiet. Final. Like he’d been sitting on it for two days and it had compacted into something very small and very dense.

You stared at him. “He was showing me placement. For a tattoo. That’s his job.”

“I know that.”

“Then—”

“I know that, Y/N.” His voice was still even but something was pushing at the edges of it. “I know it doesn’t mean anything. I know Sunghoon wasn’t — I know.” He looked at the counter. “It doesn’t stop it feeling—” He stopped.

“Feeling what,” you said. He was quiet for a long moment.

“Wrong,” he said. “It feels wrong. Someone else’s hands on you feels wrong and I don’t know how to make that—” He stopped again. His thumb pressed against the counter. “I’m trying to be rational about it.”

“You went quiet for two days,” you said.

“I know.”

“That’s not — Riki, you can’t just go quiet every time something—”

“I know.” He looked up. His eyes were direct now, no flatness, just the real thing underneath — something frustrated and raw and tired of itself. “I know it’s not fair. I’m telling you I know that. I just—” A breath. “I don’t know how to feel it and not do that. I’m working on it.”

You looked at him for a long moment. “You went quiet instead of talking to me,” you said.

“Yes.”

“And you’re telling me now because I pushed.”

“Yes.” He held your gaze. “I would have told you. I just needed to — I needed it to be smaller before I could say it without it being—” He gestured vaguely. “A lot.”

“Is it smaller now?”

“Somewhat.”

You picked up your coffee. Looked at it. Put it down. “You know that there’s nothing—” you started.

“I know.” Immediately. “Y/N, I know. This isn’t about you. This isn’t about Sunghoon. It’s mine, it’s a me thing, and I’m not trying to make it your problem.”

“It becomes my problem when you disappear.”

“I know.” His jaw shifted. “I’m sorry.”

You looked at him. He looked back, steady, the thing behind his eyes open now in the way it only got when he’d pushed past the control on purpose — when he was giving you something deliberately. “Don’t disappear,” you said. “Whatever it is — just say it. To me. Not in your head for two days.”

“Okay,” he said. His hand moved across the counter and covered yours briefly — the rings cool, the weight of his palm familiar. “Okay, Y/N.”

The touch lasted a few seconds. He didn’t make anything of it. Just let it be there and then pulled back. From the back room, completely audibly, Jay said to someone: “finally.”

“Jay,” Riki said flatly.

“I’m just saying—”

“Jay.”

That night, late. He was in your flat, his idea — he’d texted at nine, not you up or studio’s empty but just your name, which was new. He was on your couch with his legs stretched out and his head back and his eyes on your ceiling and you were beside him close enough to feel the warmth of him and neither of you had moved toward the other yet. Just sitting. Existing in the same space. “Can I ask you something?” you said.

“Yeah.”

“The possessiveness.” You kept your voice even. “Where does it come from.”

A pause. He was quiet long enough that you thought he might not answer. “Control,” he said finally. “Or — fear of losing it. Things I care about.” His thumb moved against his own knee. “I spent a long time in situations where things got taken. People I — things I couldn’t protect.” He stopped. “I don’t talk about it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.” A pause. “I want to. I just — not yet.”

Not yet. Not never. Not it’s not your business. Not yet meant there was a timeline. Meant he was thinking about it. Meant you were someone he was moving toward telling.

You leaned your head against his shoulder. He went still for a second — surprised, you thought, by the smallness of it, the casualness — and then his head dropped against yours and you felt him exhale. “The collarbone piece,” he said eventually. “Let me do it.”

You lifted your head. Looked at him. “You do tattoos?”

“Heeseung taught me. I’m not on the books for it but—” He met your eyes. “I want to do it. If you want.”

Sunghoon’s drawing. Riki’s hands. “Yeah,” you said. “Okay.”

Something settled in his face. Quiet and satisfied in a way that had nothing to do with the smirk. “Okay,” he said.

You put your head back on his shoulder. His arm moved — slow, like he was checking it was allowed — and settled around you. The unnamed thing pressed closer. Neither of you named it. But his arm tightened slightly and you let it, and that was something too.

The collarbone piece took two sessions. Riki had been clear about that upfront — small piece, delicate linework, he wanted to do it right and doing it right meant not rushing. You’d sat in the chair in the back room of Studio 13 on a quiet Tuesday morning with his hands on your collarbone and his face close and his full attention on the work and tried very hard to be normal about it. You were not normal about it. “Stop tensing,” he said, without looking up.

“I’m not tensing.”

“Your shoulder is up by your ear.” You lowered your shoulder. He glanced up briefly — dark eyes, the focus in them softening for just a second when they met yours — and then back down. “First line’s the worst,” he said. “Then you’ll settle.”

“I’ve been tattooed before.”

“Not by me.” He said it simply. Like it was just a fact. Which it was. But the way he said it landed like something more — like not by me was its own category, its own distinct experience, and he was right, as it turned out, because when the needle touched your collarbone the small shock of it dissolved almost immediately into the warmth of his hands steadying you and his voice saying good, just like that, breathe — and you settled.

You watched his face while he worked. This version of him — the work version, focused and quiet and completely present — was one of your favorites. All the usual energy went inward. The smirk was gone, the easy confidence was still there but different, channeled into precision. He moved the machine in small careful arcs and his free hand was always on you, always steadying, always aware of exactly how much pressure to use. “You’re staring,” he said.

“You said that to me once before.”

“You were staring then too.”

“Maybe I just have a specific staring problem.”

The corner of his mouth moved. He didn’t look up. “Maybe you do.”

He kissed you after the session. Not immediately — he’d finished, stepped back, examined the work with that quiet critical eye, declared it good. You’d looked in the mirror and felt something warm move through your chest at the sight of it — the two stems, thin and precise, sitting exactly right on your collarbone. “It’s perfect,” you said.

“I know.” He was already at the sink, washing his hands, and you could hear the smile in it even without seeing his face. You got up from the chair. Crossed the small space between you. And when he turned around you were right there and his expression shifted — from satisfied work-focus to something more personal, more immediate — and you put your hand on his jaw and kissed him.

He kissed you back with his damp hands at your waist, careful not to touch the fresh tattoo, and it was slow and unhurried and tasted like coffee and something that was just him and when you pulled back his eyes stayed closed for a second. Opened. Looked at you. “Hi,” he said quietly.

“Hi,” you said. His thumb moved at your waist. The rings. The warmth of his palms through your shirt.

“Come back Thursday for the second session,” he said.

“I know, you told me.”

“Just making sure.” He kissed you again before you could respond — quick, soft, his mouth on yours for just a moment — and then stepped back and handed you the aftercare sheet and was professional again, mostly, except for the way his eyes followed you to the door.

Thursday’s second session was longer. More detail, more shading on the stems, a small shadow that made the whole thing lift off the skin. You sat in the chair and he worked and you talked — properly talked, the way you did at the counter but quieter, more contained, just the two of you in the partitioned space.

He told you about growing up. Small things — not the things he kept locked, but around the edges of them. A younger brother. Moving schools twice. Being good at things with his hands from early on, carving things, taking things apart to see how they worked. “Is that why the piercing?” you said.

“Partly.” He shifted the machine slightly. “Partly because it’s — immediate. You do it right and you see it right away. No waiting to find out.”

“You like knowing things work.”

He glanced up. “Yeah.”

“Control thing.”

A pause. “Yeah,” he said again, quieter. You let that sit. Didn’t push.

“Tell me something else,” he said, after a moment. Deflecting but not — more like redirecting, like he wanted the conversation to keep going just in a different direction.

So you told him things. About your course, your family, the flat you’d moved into two years ago that still didn’t feel completely yours. The way Ria had been your anchor through everything since you were sixteen. How you’d wanted to study abroad and hadn’t and sometimes still thought about it. “Why didn’t you?” he said.

“Felt like running away from something.”

“Were you?”

You thought about it. “Probably.”

He looked up. His eyes on yours, level. “What were you running from.”

“Someone,” you said. “It doesn’t matter now.”

He held your gaze for a moment. You watched something move through his expression — something careful, something that might have been jealousy at its very distant edges but was mostly just — paying attention. Storing it. Like everything you gave him went somewhere it would be kept.

“Their loss,” he said. Simply. Looked back down. You looked at the top of his head and felt the unnamed thing press against your ribs from the inside.

He finished the piece in two hours. You both looked at it in the mirror — his chin near your shoulder, your reflection side by side — and neither of you said anything for a moment. “Well,” you said.

“Yeah,” he said. It was exactly right. Better than right. The kind of thing that looked like it had always been there, like your skin had been waiting for it.

You turned. He was right there, closer than you’d clocked, and you put both hands on his chest and looked up at him and he looked down at you and the moment expanded slightly. “Thank you,” you said.

“Don’t thank me.”

“Riki—”

“It was for me as much as you,” he said. Quiet. Direct. No smirk in it. “I wanted to put something on you. That’s—” He stopped. His jaw shifted. “That’s a me thing. Don’t thank me for it.”

You looked at him. He looked back, steady, and the naked quality of what he’d just said sat between you — I wanted to put something on you — and neither of you moved for a second.

Then you kissed him. Slow, deliberate, your hands spreading on his chest. He made a low sound and his arms came around you — gentle because of the fresh tattoo, careful, his hands at your back instead of your waist — and he kissed you back like he had time, like he wanted to use it.

When you broke apart he kept his forehead against yours. “Stay,” he said. Low. “Tonight. Just—” A pause. “Just stay.”

“Okay,” you said. You ate takeout on the floor of the back room because the couch was small and the floor had more space and Riki sat with his back against the couch and you sat between his legs with your back against his chest and it was so domestically comfortable that it was almost alarming.

He ate with one arm around you. His chin occasionally dropping to your shoulder to look at whatever you were showing him on your phone. His thumb making that small absent arc at your hip that he did when he wasn’t thinking about it.

“Ria thinks we need to define this,” you said, at some point. His arm didn’t tighten. Didn’t loosen. He was quiet for a moment.

“What do you think?” he said.

“I think Ria is right about most things.”

“Hm.” His thumb kept moving. “What would you define it as.”

You turned your head slightly. His face was close — close enough to see the detail of the scar through his eyebrow, the silver of his earring, the way he was looking at you with that careful open expression he only had when there was no one else around. “I don’t know,” you said. “What would you.”

“Mine,” he said. Quiet. Simple. Like it was the most obvious answer.

Your heart did something inconvenient. “That’s very you,” you said.

“Is it wrong?”

You turned back to face forward. His arm around you. The takeout. The red light. “No,” you said. “It’s not wrong.”

You felt him exhale against the back of your head. Slow, like something had released. His lips pressed briefly to your hair. Not a kiss exactly — too soft, too absent, more like a thing he did without deciding to.

You stayed on the floor until midnight. Talked about nothing important. Everything slightly important. He told you Jake was obviously falling for Hana and was handling it terribly, which you already knew, and you told him Ria had started texting Jake directly to speed the process along, which he did not know and which made him laugh — the real one, sudden, surprised. You stored it.

“I should go,” you said eventually. You had a nine AM seminar and the responsible thing—

“Yeah,” he said. Made no move to untangle himself from around you.

“Riki.”

“Five minutes.”

“You said that twenty minutes ago.”

“Five more minutes.” You leaned back into him and gave him the five minutes. He pressed his mouth to the side of your head again — that soft, absent thing, lips in your hair — and you closed your eyes and thought about mine and the way he’d said it like it was just the truth.

When you finally stood up he walked you to the door the way he always did. Unlocked it. Held it open. You turned back. He kissed you in the doorway — unhurried, thorough, one hand cupping your jaw and the other flat against the doorframe — and you kissed him back and it went on longer than a goodbye kiss needed to, longer than was practical, until he pulled back and looked at you with dark eyes and slightly wrecked composure.

“Wednesday,” he said. His thumb traced your jaw once before dropping.

“Wednesday,” you said. You made it to the end of the street. You looked back. He was still in the doorway, leaning on the frame, watching you go. When he saw you look he didn’t pretend he hadn’t been watching. Just held your gaze across the dark street. You turned back around and smiled at the pavement the whole way to the bus stop.

Heeseung had told everyone to come to his flat for dinner on Saturday — no occasion, just food, just all of them in the same place — and you’d arrived with Ria who had told you she’d been waiting for this invitation for weeks, which meant Jake had told her about it before Riki had told you, which meant something.

Heeseung’s flat was calm and dark-walled like the shop, art everywhere, music at a volume that allowed conversation. Jay was already there and immediately pulled Ria into an argument about something. Jake appeared from the kitchen and the way his face changed when he saw Ria was something you were going to tell Riki about later.

Riki was on the couch. He looked up when you came in and the smile that happened was immediate and unguarded — no performance, no build up, just his face doing the thing it did when you appeared, the thing you didn’t think he knew it did. He moved over without being asked. You sat beside him. Close. His arm went across the back of the couch behind you — not around you, but there, present, the rings near your shoulder.

Sunghoon arrived twenty minutes later and dropped onto the armchair across from you and looked at you both with an expression of great satisfaction. “You two sorted?” he said.

“Sunghoon,” Riki said.

“What? Last month you were—“ He stopped. “I’m just asking—”

“We’re sorted,” you said. Sunghoon grinned. Riki’s arm moved from the back of the couch to actually around your shoulders, like Sunghoon asking had given him permission to stop pretending he wasn’t doing it.

Dinner was loud and easy and everyone talked over everyone and Jay told a story about a client that got more elaborate every time he told it and Ria fit in like she’d always been there and Heeseung sat at the head of the table and said little and watched everything with quiet satisfaction.

After dinner you ended up back on the couch. Riki beside you, your legs across his, his hand resting on your ankle. The conversation had split across the room — Jay and Sunghoon, Ria and Jake in what looked like an increasingly interesting exchange, Heeseung in the kitchen. “You good?” Riki said quietly, just to you.

“Yeah.” You looked at the room. “This is nice.”

“They like you.”

“Jay likes everyone.”

“Heeseung doesn’t,” he said. Simple. “He likes you.”

You looked at him. “How can you tell?”

“He invited you.” He said it like it was obvious. “He doesn’t do this for everyone. He did it because—” A pause. His hand moved slightly on your ankle. “Because you’re—” He stopped.

“Because I’m what,” you said softly.

He looked at you. The room was noisy around you but it felt like it had contracted to just this, just his face and yours and the thing he was about to say. “Important,” he said. Quiet. “Because you’re important.”

Your heart did the inconvenient thing again, harder this time. “Riki,” you said.

“Yeah.”

“That word—”

“I know what word I used.” You looked at him. He looked back, steady, not taking it back, not softening it. Just — sitting in it, the way he sat in most things, patient and certain.

Across the room Jay said something loud and everyone laughed and the moment breathed. Riki’s hand moved from your ankle to your calf. Warm. Present. “Stay tonight,” he said. Low enough that it was only for you. “Not at the shop. Mine.”

His. His flat, which you hadn’t been to, which was a different thing than the back room couch. A different kind of staying. “Yeah,” you said.

He nodded. Looked back at the room. But his hand stayed on your leg and his shoulder was warm against yours and you sat in the important and let it settle into something that felt permanent.

Later, when most people had gone and Ria was helping Heeseung with something in the kitchen and it was just you and Riki by the door putting your jacket on he turned you by the shoulders. Kissed you slowly, his hands on your face, thumbs at your jaw. The kind of kiss that had no agenda, no direction, just wanted to exist. When he pulled back he looked at you for a long moment.

The word boyfriend was right there in the room. Neither of you said it. But his hand found yours and held it, and he didn’t let go the whole way to his flat, and somewhere in the space between mine and important and his fingers between yours on a dark street — the unnamed thing finally had a shape. You just hadn’t said it out loud yet.

His flat was on the third floor of a building that had seen better decades, the kind of place that was held together by good bones and someone who actually cared about the space inside it. You didn’t know what you’d expected.

More of the shop, maybe — dark walls, flash art, the deliberate aesthetic. And there was some of that. Dark furniture, a few framed pieces on the walls, one large canvas above the couch that was either very expensive or done by someone he knew and you suspected the latter. But it was also — lived in, in a specific way. Books stacked in an order that made sense only to him. A record player in the corner with a small collection beside it. The kitchen clean in the way of someone who cooked properly and cleaned as they went.

It was a home. Actually a home. That surprised you and you didn’t know why it surprised you and then you thought about what he’d said — I spent a long time in situations where things got taken — and understood it. He’d built this. Deliberately. Piece by piece. “Stop analyzing it,” he said from the kitchen.

“I’m not analyzing it.”

“You have your analyzing face on.”

“I don’t have an analyzing face.”

He appeared in the kitchen doorway with two glasses of water and looked at you standing in his living room in your jacket still on and raised an eyebrow. “Take your jacket off,” he said. “You’re staying.” You took your jacket off.

You fell asleep on his couch. Not intentionally — you’d been talking, the record player on low, and somewhere between one subject and the next the warmth of him beside you and the late hour pulled you under. You were aware of it happening distantly, the conversation getting slower, your eyes getting heavy, and you didn’t fight it.

You woke up in his bed. He’d moved you. At some point while you slept he’d carried you — or walked you, half-conscious — to the bed and put you in it and the duvet was pulled up and his pillow smelled like him and you lay there in the early grey morning and stared at the ceiling and felt something enormous and inconvenient sitting on your chest.

You heard him in the kitchen. The quiet sounds of someone who knew how to exist in the morning without disturbing anyone. You lay there and thought about mine and important and the collarbone tattoo and his hand in yours on the dark street and the back room couch and two months of Wednesdays and the card he’d slid across the counter the first night like he’d already decided.

You thought about Ria’s voice. You’re terrified. You were terrified.

He was at the kitchen counter with his back to you when you came in. Making coffee, unhurried, still in the clothes from last night minus the jacket. Rings on his hands already. You didn’t know if he’d slept. He turned when he heard you. Took in your expression with one look. “Hey,” he said carefully.

“Hey.” You stood in the kitchen doorway. Your heart was doing something loud. “You moved me.”

“You were asleep on my couch.”

“You could have woken me up.”

“You looked tired.” Simple. Like it was nothing. Like carrying you to his bed was just a practical thing he’d done without thinking. “Coffee?”

“Riki.” He looked at you. Really looked — reading whatever was on your face with that careful focus, taking it in.

“What’s going on,” he said.

“Nothing. I just—” You stopped. Started again. “I woke up in your bed and it—” You pressed your fingers to your mouth briefly. “It felt like something.” He was quiet. Waiting.

“I think this is something,” you said. “I think it’s been something for a while and we keep not saying it and I’m—” You exhaled. “I’m tired of not saying it.”

The kitchen was very quiet. Riki leaned back against the counter. Crossed his arms. His expression was the open one — no performance, no control layered over it, just his face and whatever was behind it. “Say it then,” he said quietly.

You looked at him. “I want this to be a thing. A real thing. I want—” You. “I want the name.”

He uncrossed his arms. Crossed the kitchen in three steps and he was right in front of you and his hands came up to your face — both of them, palms at your jaw, tilting your face up — and he looked at you for one long second. “It’s already a thing,” he said. “It’s been a thing.” His thumb moved at your cheekbone. “I’ve been waiting for you to catch up.”

“That’s very smug,” you said. Your voice wasn’t fully steady.

“I know.” He wasn’t smiling. His eyes were serious, dark, right there. “Y/N.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not good at the words,” he said. “You know that. But this—” his thumbs traced your face, gentle and deliberate “—this is not nothing. This hasn’t been nothing since you walked into my shop.”

Your hands found his wrists. Held on. “Okay,” you said.

“Okay,” he said. He kissed you. Soft, slow, his hands still on your face like he wanted to hold the moment still. You kissed him back and felt the unnamed thing finally, finally settle into something with a shape and a weight and a name you’d figure out the exact word for later.

When he pulled back he pressed his forehead to yours. “Boyfriend is a weird word,” he said.

You laughed. Surprised out of you, real. “It really is.”

“But yeah.” His mouth curved. “That.”

“That,” you agreed. He kissed you again, brief and warm, and then stepped back and handed you a coffee and the domesticity of it — his flat, his coffee, his hands, the morning — hit you somewhere soft.

“Sit down,” he said. “I’ll make breakfast.”

“You cook?”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“Riki I’ve known you for months and I’ve never seen you eat anything that wasn’t takeout or coffee.”

“That’s at the shop.” He was already at the fridge. “At home I cook.”

You sat at his kitchen counter on a stool and watched him move around his kitchen with the same ease he brought to everything — competent, unhurried, knowing where things were — and drank your coffee and felt the warmth of the morning settle around you. “What are you making?” you said.

“Eggs.”

“Just eggs?”

“Good eggs.” He glanced back. “Don’t underestimate eggs.”

They were good eggs. You ate at his kitchen counter side by side, your shoulder against his, and the conversation came easy the way it always did — drifting, unhurried, one thing opening into another. He told you about the record player, how he’d found it at a market two years ago and had to carry it up three flights on his own. You told him about the flat you’d wanted that you hadn’t got and ended up in your current one instead and how it had turned out better. “Things usually do,” he said.

“Philosopher.”

“Just paying attention.” His hand found yours on the counter between you. Covered it. Not making anything of it — just there, warm and present. You turned your hand over and his fingers slid between yours. You sat like that until the coffee was cold.

He walked you out two hours later. Down the three flights and out onto the morning street, quiet at this hour, pale winter sun doing its best. He had his jacket on, hands in his pockets, walking beside you in the direction of the bus stop. “You don’t have to walk me,” you said.

“I know.” He walked you anyway. His shoulder bumping yours occasionally. Not holding your hand now — just beside you, present, taking up the right amount of space. At the bus stop he turned to face you. “Wednesday,” he said.

“Wednesday,” you said. Then: “Actually I might come Tuesday. I need to talk to Heeseung about extending the collarbone piece.”

Something moved across his face. Quick, then gone. “You want to extend it?” he said.

“Just the stems, maybe. One more.” You looked at his expression. “What?”

“I’ll do it,” he said. Immediate.

“I know you’ll do it—”

“I mean — the extension. Let me do it.” His jaw was doing the thing. “Not Heeseung.”

You looked at him. Understood. “Okay,” you said.

“Okay.” The jaw relaxed. A short exhale.

You reached up and kissed him — he leaned down to meet you before you’d fully extended, like he’d been waiting for it — and it was brief and warm and tasted like coffee. “Tuesday,” you said against his mouth.

“Tuesday,” he said. The bus appeared at the end of the road. He stepped back. Hands back in his pockets. Watching you with that settled, certain expression. “Text me when you’re home,” he said. New. That was new.

“Yeah,” you said, smiling. “Okay.”

You texted Ria from the bus.

you: we sorted it

The reply was immediate. She’d been awake, waiting.

Ria: WHAT

you: it’s a thing. officially.

Ria: I KNEW IT I HAVE BEEN SAYING does he even know the word boyfriend???

you: he said it’s a weird word

Ria: oh my god he’s so him

you: he made me eggs

Ria: Y/N!!!

you: they were really good eggs

Ria: I am going to cry. IM SO HAPPY!

You put your phone in your pocket and looked out the bus window at the city going past and felt something settled and warm sitting in your chest where the unnamed thing used to be.

Daniel saw you get off the bus. You didn’t notice him. You were texting Riki — something small, a photo of a dog outside the coffee shop you were passing, the kind of thing you sent now because you could — and you walked past him without looking up.

He watched you go. Watched the way you were smiling at your phone. He knew about the tattoo shop. He’d heard you mention it. He’d put things together — the visits, the name that came up, the way you’d brushed him off every time since October.

He pulled out his own phone. Started looking. It didn’t take long. Public record. The charge, the conviction, the sentence. He read it twice. Read the name again. Looked up Studio 13. He sat with it for a long time. Then he texted Soo.

Daniel: hey, you’re friends with Y/N right. I need to tell you something about someone she’s seeing.

The thing about finally naming something was that it changed the texture of everything. Not dramatically. Not all at once. Just — small shifts, accumulating. The way he texted now, more often, nothing significant but there. The way he said my girlfriend to a client who asked about the collarbone piece, casual, not looking at you when he said it, and you’d had to look very hard at the flash wall for a moment. The way his hand found yours in public without him thinking about it first. Small things. Heavy things.

You were catastrophically gone for him and had been for a while and now there was nothing to hide it behind.

The first Tuesday after you came into Studio 13 at noon and Riki was with a client so Jay made you coffee and sat across from you at the counter with the expression of someone who had been waiting to say something. “So,” he said.

“Don’t,” you said.

“I just want to say—”

“Jay.”

“I called it.” He held up both hands. “First week you came in. I said to Sunghoon, I said that girl is going to wreck him, and I was right—”

“I didn’t wreck anyone—”

“In a good way.” He was grinning. “He’s different. He’s — I’ve known Riki for two years and he texted me last Sunday morning just to talk. Riki. Texting. On a Sunday. Because he was in a good mood and wanted to—”

“Jay.” Riki’s voice from the piercing section, flat. He’d finished with his client without you noticing.

“I’m just saying—”

“I heard what you were saying.” Riki came around the partition and looked at you and the expression on his face when it landed on you was the thing Jay had been describing without being able to name it — something unlocked, something that had been held tight for a long time and wasn’t anymore.

He came to the counter. Leaned down and kissed you hello like it was something he’d been doing for years. Brief, warm, his hand on your jaw for just a second. Jay made a noise. Riki sat on his stool without acknowledging him. Picked up his coffee. “How’s the collarbone?” he said.

“Good. I want to talk about an extension.”

“I know what I’ll doing with it.”

“I haven’t told you what I want yet.”

“I know what you want.” He met your eyes. Completely certain. “Trust me.”

You looked at him. Thought about the first piece — how right it had been, how it had looked like it had always been there. “Fine,” you said.

Jay, very quietly, said: “He’s so different.”

The extension happened the following Thursday. One more stem. Slightly longer than the others, curving toward your shoulder, a small bud at the end that he’d added without asking and that was so exactly right you hadn’t been able to speak for a moment when you saw it. “Riki,” you said.

“Hm.” He was examining the placement, focused.

“The bud.”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t ask for that.”

“No.” He glanced up. Brief, the focus breaking for just a second. “Do you like it?”

You looked in the mirror. The three stems, the new one curving outward, the small closed bud at its tip. Something that looked like potential. Like something about to open. “Yeah,” you said. “I like it.”

He looked back down. Said nothing. But his free hand, steadying your shoulder, pressed slightly. Small. Deliberate.

Three weeks in and the shape of things had settled. Wednesdays at the shop. Tuesday evenings at his flat, which had become a specific thing — you’d bring food, he’d already have the record player going, and you’d eat on his couch or his kitchen floor and talk until one of you fell asleep. Some Fridays at yours, which he’d come to twice now and moved through with the particular attentiveness of someone learning a space they planned to know well.

His things had started appearing at your flat. A hoodie, first — left behind, not retrieved. Then a phone charger. Then a record he’d brought over to show you something and hadn’t taken back. You didn’t point any of this out. Neither did he.

You had a key to Studio 13. That had happened without discussion — Riki had taken it off his keyring one night when you’d arrived before him and handed it to you and gone back to what he was doing. You’d stared at it for a full ten seconds.

This was how he said things. Not in words. In the key. In the bud on the stem. In text me when you’re home and Sunday morning texts and the way he always, always knew when something was wrong before you’d said anything. You were learning his language. It was quieter than most people’s but it was fluent.

Four weeks in, on a Wednesday night after Studio 13 closed as usual. But tonight the energy was different from the second you’d locked the front door behind you — something in the way he’d looked at you across the shop all evening, something that had been building since you’d arrived and had nowhere to go while there were other people present.

He kissed you against the front counter the second the lock clicked. Not soft. Not the hello-kiss or the goodbye-kiss or the slow deliberate thing from his kitchen. This was four weeks of officially named wanting, his hands in your hair and your hands in his jacket and both of you breathing differently inside ten seconds. He pulled back. Looked at your face. “Hi,” you said.

“Hi.” His voice was rough already. His hands moved from your hair to your waist, sliding under your top to bare skin, and you felt his rings and exhaled. “Been thinking about you all day.”

“I was here all evening.”

“I know.” His mouth found your jaw, your throat. “Worse.”

“Riki—”

“I know.” He pulled your top up and off and looked at you in the low red light the way he always did — that slow, deliberate sweep that moved over you like you were something he was committing to memory. The collarbone piece. His hands on you. “God,” he said quietly. Not performing it. Just — reacting.

“Come here,” you said. He came. He got you onto the front counter. Which was new. Which was — you looked around the shop, the dark windows, the closed door, and then his hands were on your thighs spreading them and he was standing between them and the location became very irrelevant. “Here?” you said.

“Here.” He kissed you again, deep, his tongue against yours and the bar of it doing what it always did to your ability to think. His hands pushed your skirt up your thighs, found your underwear, pushed it aside — and his fingers were there, at your folds, and you grabbed the edge of the counter.

“Riki—”

“Already.” His fingers moved through your folds, slow, feeling you. “Fuck, Y/N, already—”

“Don’t be smug—”

“I’m not.” He pressed a kiss to your jaw, your throat. “I’m really not.” His fingers found your clit and circled and your hips rolled forward. “That’s it. That’s—” A breath. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Tell me,” you breathed.

He pushed two fingers inside you and your head fell back. “This,” he said, low, watching your face. “Every time. Every fucking time you walk in here I want—” His fingers curled and you gasped. “Yeah. That. I want that sound.”

“More—”

“More?” He kept the pace slow. Deliberate. His thumb finding your clit while his fingers moved and the combination was devastating. “You sure? We’re not in a rush.”

“Riki I swear to god—”

He laughed — low, warm, real — and his fingers moved deeper and his thumb pressed harder and you grabbed his shoulder and held on. “Good girl,” he said against your throat. “So good. So wet for me, every time, like you spend all day—”

“I do,” you said, breathless. “I do, okay, is that what you want to hear—”

“Yes,” he said simply, and meant it, and his fingers moved faster. You came with your face pressed into his neck and his name in your mouth, his fingers working you through it, not stopping until you pulled at his hair and told him too much, too much—

He pulled his hand back. Pressed his mouth to your temple. Your cheekbone. The corner of your mouth. “Good girl,” he said again, softer. “You’re so—”

“Don’t you dare say something nice right now,” you said. “I can’t handle it.” He pressed his smile into your hair.

You got his jeans open. Got your hand on his cock and felt him exhale sharply against your neck —that involuntary thing, the crack in the control — and stroked slowly and felt every bar of the ladder and heard him make a sound that was almost pained. “Y/N—”

“Yeah?”

“I need—” His hips pushed forward slightly. “Fuck, I need you to—”

“Need me to what.” You kept the pace slow. His own medicine.

His forehead dropped to your shoulder. “Please.” The please from Riki — rare, wrecked, genuine — landed somewhere it always landed and you let go of him and pulled him forward by his waistband and he understood, got his jeans down, stepped between your thighs.

He pushed inside in one slow stroke and you both went still. His hands braced on the counter either side of you. Your hands on his chest. The shop around you, the red light, the flash art on the walls watching everything. “Okay?” he said. Rough. Always asked.

“Move,” you said. “Please, Riki, move—” He moved.

The front counter was cold under your hands and he was warm everywhere else — his chest against yours, his mouth at your throat, his hips rolling into you in a rhythm that started slow and deliberate and got less controlled as it went. “You feel—” He broke off. His jaw set. “Every time. Like the first time, every—”

“Don’t stop talking,” you said. “I like it when you talk.”

He made a rough sound. “You like it.”

“Yes—”

“Good girl for telling me.” His pace shifted deeper and you choked on a breath. “Good girl for always — fuck — for always telling me what you want—”

“Riki—”

“I’ve got you.” His hand slid between you, found your clit, and you arched. “I’ve got you, come on, cum for me, you can—”

“I just—”

“I know.” His thumb circled. “Do it again. Come on. Let me feel you cum on my cock, Y/N—”

The degradation and the praise all tangled together and his thumb and the ladder on every stroke and his voice at your ear and you shattered again — harder this time, your whole body locking up, his name loud enough that it bounced off the dark walls—

He followed you. His rhythm breaking, his breath gone, his hands gripping the counter so hard you heard his rings knock against it — and the sound he made when he came was the broken one, the helpless one, the one you collected and kept.

After the both of you on the front counter, you sitting, him leaning against it beside you. Still not fully dressed. The playlist had long since ended and the shop was quiet except for both of you getting your breathing back. You looked at the flash art on the walls. “We just did that on the front counter,” you said.

“We did.”

“Where clients sit.”

“I’ll clean it.”

You looked at him. He looked back with the wrecked-and-unbothered expression, his hair completely destroyed, his rings catching the low light. “You’re not even slightly embarrassed,” you said.

“No.” Simple. His hand found your knee. “Are you?”

You thought about it. “No.” He smiled. The real one.

You leaned your head on his shoulder and he turned his face into your hair and you sat on the front counter of Studio 13 at midnight and the warmth of it — the us of it — felt like something you could live inside. “Stay,” he said. Into your hair.

“At yours?”

“Here. Couch in the back.” His hand moved at your knee. “Don’t want you to go yet.”

You lifted your head. Looked at his face. “Riki. I’m not going anywhere,” you said.

His eyes moved over yours. The thing behind them — the possessive, careful, quietly terrified thing that drove the jealousy and the silence and the hand always finding yours — settled. “I know,” he said. Like he was practicing believing it.

“I know you know.” You put your hand on his jaw. “I’m telling you anyway.” He turned his face into your palm. Brief. Eyes closing for just a second.

Then he stood up, pulled you off the counter, kept your hand in his. “Couch,” he said.

“Couch,” you agreed.

You were asleep within minutes with Riki’s jacket over you and his voice low in the background talking to someone on the phone — his brother, you thought, distantly, the conversation too quiet to hear properly — and the red light under the door and the smell of ink and his hoodie under your cheek.

You were asleep and warm and his and the storm was three weeks away. It felt like nothing could touch this.

Daniel texted your friend Soo on a Wednesday night. She didn’t tell you immediately. That was the first thing — she sat on it for four days, turning it over, looking at the record he’d sent her, reading it and rereading it. The charge. The conviction. The length of the sentence. Assault. Grievous bodily harm. Victim: female.

She read those words and thought about you and made a decision she believed was the right one. She texted you on a Sunday.

You were at Riki’s flat. Sunday morning, late, the good kind of late — his record player going, both of you in the kitchen, you on the counter watching him make coffee with the focused competence he brought to everything. His hair was wrecked. He had a bruise on his collarbone that was your fault and he’d looked at it in the mirror that morning with an expression of complete satisfaction that had made you throw a pillow at him. Your phone lit up on the counter beside you.

Soo: hey can we talk today. it’s important.

Soo: it’s about Riki.

You looked at the screen. “What,” Riki said. He’d clocked your face without turning around. He did that.

“Soo wants to talk.” You kept your voice neutral. “About you.”

He turned. Read your expression. His jaw did the thing — the subtle set — but his voice stayed even. “What about me?”

“She didn’t say.”

A pause. He looked at the coffee. Back at you. “When?”

“Today apparently.” He nodded. Said nothing. Turned back to the coffee and you watched his shoulders and thought about the tension in them and didn’t ask.

You met Soo at the coffee place near yours at two. She was already there when you arrived. She had her hands around her cup and her expression was the one she got when she was about to say something she’d rehearsed — careful, prepared, slightly guilty around the edges. You sat down. “Just tell me,” you said.

She put her phone on the table. Turned it to face you. A screenshot. A public record database. The name — Nishimura Riki — and below it the details, dry and legal and devastating in their simplicity. Charge: Assault occasioning grievous bodily harm. Victim: Female, 28. Sentence: 14 months. Probation: 12 months.

“a new face!” your father exclaims with a wide smile. “welcome, we were about to begin. please, take a seat friend.”

the stranger only nods and sits a few rows before you. for the entire length of the sermon he did not move. you knew this because you couldn’t take your eyes off him. he was so still, was he even breathing?

where did you come from? what are you doing here? no one ever comes this far out, there is nothing to find. people come here to die, not to live.

brown eyes pierced into your soul as you were lost in thought and you jump a little, quickly averting your gaze. your father came to your rescue.

“new friend, we rarely get any guests. please, won’t you share your favourite verse with us? there’s no better way to get to know someone as by their favourite verse is there?”

a small smile forms on the strangers face and he nods. “nothing like it.”

his voice was…foreign. it didn’t sound like anything you have heard around here.

“let him know that whoever brings back a sinner from his wandering will save his soul from death and will cover a multitude of sins.”

a murmur of approval passes through the rows. your father nods. “james 5:20, a powerful verse. we had yet to have someone mention it as their favourite. pray tell, what is your name?”

every person in the room simultaneously seemed to have leaned forward a little, careful not to miss the reveal of the mysterious stranger.

“jake.”

jake. so simple. someone like him seems to need a more grand name. a name that carries the same feeling as his presence does.

once again, he turns his head, this time looking around the entire room. “it’s very nice to meet all of you.” enthusiastic greetings practically flew back at him, utterly charmed by this interruption of daily normality.

he smiles at them and when his eyes land on you for a single second longer than anybody else, he gives you a small nod before turning to face your father again.

the rest of sermon goes by like always, yet you cannot stop thinking about jake. his face seems to imprinted in your brain, eyes seemingly seeing right through you even in your imagination. you barely notice the crowd leaving the small, stuffy room. body and mind being almost in a trance.

“don’t go walking home in the dark,” jake’s voice ripped you out of your haze. he stood in front of the doorsteps, lazily leaning against the porous frame of the door. you hurriedly grab your bible, clutching it to your chest as you walk past him into the cool air of the night.

at dinner, you barely eat. your mother worries, of course she does, but you blame it on the heat. feigning a headache, you excuse yourself from the dinner table and find refuge in your bedroom. the small breeze gently moves through the thin curtains you embroidered last winter. little petals falling from the top to bottom, where they eventually start to decay. it had been a hassle to convince your mother to hang it up, this unhappy portrayal in the place you rest. you managed to spin it back to the idea of life and death, you always get her with this. does this really matter that much to her? is nobody else as lost as you are?

you lay on the soft covers, staring at the ceiling. change is not normal around here. strangers aren’t. every once in a blue moon a distant family member from someone comes to visit, but not someone who has no ties to this place. why would he come here?

sunday. the holiest day of the week.

more people fill the benches today, happy chatter filling the space.

you find yourself sitting in the middle of them once again, never having felt so lonely as you do now. what would they think if they knew of your doubt? your sin following you like a shadow, ready to jump out to reveal the truth.

before you knew it, sermon was over, the sound of praises ripping you out of your gloom.

your father engages in happy chatter with the crowd, shaking hands, giving hugs. how happy the all seemed. where they pretending or did they truly feel saved? how could this sin filled world not tempt them but devour your soul?

“no sleep?”

your head whipped around. there he was again. standing right in front of you, seemingly appearing out of thin air once again.

“what?”

“i don't mean to be rude”, he exclaimed “but you seem tired.”

if he only knew. every night, the same dream. for months. the church ceiling, hot rushes zapping through you like lightning. an unknown warmth bubbling in you.

“it doesn’t cool off in the night as much these days.”

he nods, eyes never breaking contact with yours. they gleam so interestingly, you cannot pinpoint the colour of them.

god, he was devastatingly beautiful, a mix of harsh lines and soft features. hair swooping in soft waves, framing his face. the sunlight dances on it, shimmering in the lightest shades of brown.

“so,” his voice ripping you out of your thoughts again. “what is there to do in a place like this.”

“there’s nothing to do in a place like this.”

a charming smile forms on his face, “surely there's something. what do you spend your days with?”

you pause. weirdly enough, you couldn’t think of much. you weren’t asked about yourself. not in a rude way, nobody asked the other for more than their well being and the occasional small talk.

“i dream,” you blurt out.

“dream.” he echoes.

you nod, looking out of the window, too scared to look the stranger in the face.

“what about?”

“i’m not sure. sometimes it’s these snippets of life. i’m not sure if it’s my life, i mean i don’t recognise any parts. but it feels so real, i find myself hours later, still sitting in the same spot, just dreaming.”

the moment you stopped speaking you realised what you just did. horrified, you look at him, the smile on his face. and you bolt.

“i’m sorry, i have to go.”

pushing past him, past the church crowd, you run down the dusty path to your house. you swear you still heard him ‘see you tonight’.

you slam your bedroom door shut, back pressing against it, as if to make sure no one could enter. the rapid beat of your heart made the blood in your ears pulse. you heave, tugging away at the collar of your dress. off, off with it.

there you stand, in your underskirts, hair falling falling loosely on your shoulders. in your heated state you must’ve tugged at it. a nervous habit your mother desperately tried to get rid off. your wildness will be the end of you, she always said.

you still feel the way he looked at you, even though it made no sense. a look doesn’t touch. yet you swear you can still him, as if he followed you here all this way. but that would be ridiculous, right?

nervously, you bite your nail, pondering what to do. you creak open the door and listen. no sound. but he had a habit of being quiet, that much you knew about him.

you softly padded your way over to the stairs, deliberately not stepping on the creaking parts of the wood floor.

the kitchen was empty, so was the living room. of course he wasn’t here. your mind has been playing tricks on you for months, a cruel test of faith. a test that you feel yourself failing.

“what are you doing?

you scream, hands grabbing for the nearest object.

your father looked at you with a mix of confusion and concern.

“is something the matter? are you feeling unwell?”

slowly, you lower your hands again. your shoulders drop and suddenly you felt so heavy. at first it was a little shake, a hiccup of sobs soon turning into a waterfall of tears streaming down your face.

your fathers arms hold you, steady and firm.

“it will all be okay, my sweet. it’s all part of the plan, part of your journey. you know he would never punish a heart as pure as yours.”

his words only add to your sobs. if only he knew that his own flesh and blood was drenched in sin. but you could never tell him, so you let yourself be held by the man that loves both god and his daughter, not knowing it was the greatest juxtaposition.

nightfall came quicker than expected.

the sheer cover of you blanket was tickling your skin with the occasional gust of wind. you have been laying in your bed ever since your father had carried you up.just like old times, he had tugged you into bed, brushing the hair out of your face and muttering a quick prayer. it will all be okay.

but you didn’t feel the same anymore. not calm, not protected or ready to enter dreamland.

no, you felt like your skin was on fire.

droplets of sweat ran down your forehead, dripping down your chin. your rapid heartbeat didn’t make it any easier, you could practically hear your own blood rushing in your ears.

none of that could compare to the pressure behind your eyes though. for what felt like hours you had been pressing your palms into your eye sockets, desperate to relieve the throb.

come on. it echoed in your head.

you writhed, a silent scream escaping you.

this was your punishment. all the times you had been questioning what god had planned for you, you have failed him. you have failed and now the devil is out to get you.

it’ll be nice, i promise.

a broken sob bubbled out of your throat. you were so tired. tired of being strong, tired of pretending to believe. you were already doomed, what’s there to lose?

so you lay there, limbs slowly relaxing. just letting it happen.

you have so much potential. this mind of yours is rare.

this time, the voice had a face. a blurry picture of jake formed in your mind.

he had such kind eyes. had shown you such kindness and what have you done? ran out the second you felt embarrassed. pathetic.

don’t be so hard on yourself now.

you felt the slightest ghost of a touch on your collarbone and you jumped, just to realise it was your own. you have gone insane. but it felt nice, your own flesh.

don’t stop now, jakes voice spurring you on.

with almost cruel slowness your fingers danced down, between your breasts, across your stomach, before stopping at the hem of you nightgown. you’ve heard the other girls murmur, head pushed together whispering away their secrets. of boys between their legs, of mouths on skin and flesh. it was all so unfamiliar to you.

i’ll help you, don’t worry.

your fingers inched up again, making contact with your core. a mix of a strangled moan and a squeak escaped you.

just take your index finger, we’ll go slow. start at the top.

listening to his voice, you place your index finger on top of your heat.

good, now circle.

you hesitate a moment before you comply, but no amount of pausing could’ve prepare you for the way your body was hit with a wave of ecstasy.

how come that this forbidden sweetness was what made you feel the most alive you’ve felt in months.

your movement grew quicker, more desperate and your mind cleared the picture of jake. the way his fingers had been tapping on the cover of the bible in his hand, how they caressed the back of the spine with such slow circles.

what would it be like if he were the one touching you right now? would it feel even better?

such unholy things you’re thinking sweet thing. careful with what you wish for, you swear you heard his chuckle echo.

but you have long lost the care. you felt to good right now, your body singing with liveliness and desire.

explore further down.

unquestioning, you dipped your fingers lower and gasped at the pool of wetness seeping out of you.

there you go….now gather it and touch yourself again. promise it feels good.

damn right he was. you bit your pillow just in time before an almost violent moan escaped your throat. now you knew why this was unholy, you were closer to heaven than ever before and they didn’t want this to happen before you fulfilled your purpose.

fuck that purpose. you have felt so lifeless for so long, so empty. you deserve this.

the bliss suddenly grew even more intense, your legs flexing and an unknown feeling bubbling up your stomach.

no need to fear, you’re doing so so well for me.

that was all you needed to hear. before you knew it, your abdomen scrunched and you were enveloped in a cloud of bliss.

this was it. the heavenly sin they spoke of.

see, wasn’t that nice?

“mhm,” you mumbled out loud, exhaustion taking over you.

sleep well, pretty.

on the other side of town, jakes head hit the soft pillows. if he weren’t undead he’s sure his heart would be racing like he just ran for a thousand miles straight. he couldn’t see you, but he had felt the way you were writhing at his words. the way your hands travelled down your stomach and dove into your wet heat.

the moon stared at him through the open window. nights were so different out here, so quiet. it reminded him off a time long ago, when things were different. he knew he couldn’t stay here for long. no, he had to act soon.

the following morning you didn’t sit in your usual church bench. no, this time you sat where he sat last time.

you didn’t know what you were thinking, maybe you weren’t thinking at all, but you couldn’t stay away from him. or the idea of him. maybe you’ll even gather the courage to talk to him following sunday?

but god, if he was actually real, had a cruel plan, since jake entered just a few moments before sermon started.

oh your poor heart razed so quickly you were sure everyone could hear. why would he come here to another one already? he had just been here yesterday. was he this devoted? was your punishment meant to torture you alive?

don’t be rude, your father is speaking.

you jolted in your seat, head whipping around. but jake just sat there, eyes focused on your father as his hands were clasped in his lap.

how unholy of you to think of my lap while in the lords house. and all these people here with us as well.

it was all too much, you couldn’t stay here. the second everybody rose to sing, you quickly made your way out of your own personal prison.

outside, you stared at the vast nothingness in front of you. sand, so much sand. was there really more than this out there?

later that day, your parents looked at you with eyes full of worry. you had never missed sermon unless you were violently ill.

“i’ll be okay,” you reassured them, no certainty in your mind. but of course they believed it. everyone around here would rather believe lies than admit that you were all doomed out here.

you had slept for the day, missing evening sermon as well. this time, there had been no impure thoughts torturing you. this time, you had been dreaming of the woods. the smell of wet moss and petrichor.

when you woke, the moon greeted you. unsure with what to do, you started roaming around town. how are all of them just fine with this? there’s no satisfaction with this life. were they all that blind? or did they choose to not see it.

of course you found yourself in front of the church, that damned little building.

one more time. you will try one more time and if that isn’t helping then so be it. you’ll have to find another way to make it through this hell.

the doors opened with a soft creak, almost sounding like a mocking laugh.

you walk past the empty benches, stopping in front of the giant cross hanging in front of you. how cruel to display a man in his suffering for everyone to stare at, you thought.

with a deep sigh you drop to your knees, the wood pushing into your skin.

one last time.

you squeezed your eyes shut.

“god, strengthen me to resist temptation. god, cleanse my mind from all impurity.”

“you really think that’ll help you?”

jake. of course he’s here.

you couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“who sent you?” you scoff over your shoulder.

“i act upon my own free will.”

“bullshit", you shoot back. “there’s nothing here. there must be a reason why you’ve come here.”

at that, he laughed. “well of course there is! you.”

this time, you turn your head completely.

“me.”

“yes, you.”

without comprehending how, he suddenly materialised in front of you, looking down at you. but you weren’t afraid, didn’t tremble in fear. no, you felt like how they said you would feel when you felt god.

his hand reached out and you took it.

with one swift motion, you were on your feet as he led you over to the altar.

your back pressed against the wood, digging into your skin. his hand cupped your cheek so softly you almost flinched.

“recite.”

nothing further, no questions, just a command. and you complied.

“no temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. and god is faithful, he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear.”

his hand travelled down your body, bunching up the soft material of your nightgown.

“ corinthians, good choice.” he mumbled as his lips grazed your neck.

your eyes fluttered, hand grasping his shoulder for stability.

“continue.”

he said this as if you weren’t experiencing the most forbidden thing you were taught to avoid all these years.

“how did you do that? be in my head,” you breathed out.

the vibrations of his chuckle against your neck sent goosebumps down your spine.

“gentleman never tell his secrets.”

you huff, head falling backwards as his plush lips suck on your neck, surely leaving bruises behind already.

his lips travelled further down your throat, over your collarbone, down your arms. he took your hand so sweetly, as if it hadn’t been gripping onto him for dear life. sweet kisses adored your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours in the process.

“next verse, pretty.”

with that he dropped onto his knees in front of you, big hands gripping the insides of your thighs.

a soft gasp slips past your lips as you feel his breath on your already damp core.

“i’m not gonna continue if you don’t speak.”

your head falls back in frustration.

“create in me a pure hea–” his tongue darts out, licking a long stripe along your closed pussy. your legs squeeze around his head and he hums.

“create in me a… a pure heart – fuck, o god, and…and renew a steadfast spirit within me.”

it was downright blasphemous what you were doing. leaning against the holy alter, an almost stranger between your legs as you get high on the way his tongue feels.

jake on the other hand wasn’t thinking of the setting at all, no all he was focused on was the sweet scent coming between your legs. he had been going crazy ever since that night, smelling your arousal all the way across town.

“taste so good, better than any pure honey,” he praised.

oh and you responded so beautifully to him. limbs twisting at his touch, sweet moans and whines spilling out of your mouth.

but he wanted more, he wanted you utterly addicted to him.

his hands moved up your dress, fingernails grazing against the soft skin. without warning, he grasped you tit, fingers pinching the already hardened nipple. and my god, the noises coming out of you. a gorgeous mix of a groan and a whine, only intensifying as he increased the pace of his tongue flicking up and down your pussy.

“more, please.”

your voice was barely a whisper at this point, how could anyone resist a plea this sweetly?

he pushed the wet material aside, leaving you no time to adjust to the cool air hitting your exposed cunt. his nose nudged the sensitive bundle as his tongue dove straight into the wetness threatening to drip out of you.

if heaven had a name it would be yours, if it had a place it would be your pussy. he moaned at the way he could feel you clench, the overwhelming smell of you making him dizzy. your fingers in his hair, tugging away, making it sting so deliciously he couldn’t stop the moan escaping him.

“another.” he demanded between slurps of your arousal.

“submit yourselves, then, to,to – fuck, to god. resist the devil, and he will flee from you.”

at this jake couldn't help but laugh. the devil, some would argue he was one of his reincarnations.

"i’m so close–” your tiny voice barely a squeak, and he pushed his thumb on top of your clit. with a sharp cry you came, your arousal dripping down his chin and he closed his eyes. god, you were everything he had needed.

you were still dizzy as he levels with you again, cum covered lips sloppily finding yours. it was a mash of tongue and teeth, barely even a kiss. it was possessive, both of you almost breathing the other in. you have never kissed anyone before, all you knew was that his lips felt like they had the cure to life on them.

in the turmoil of it all, your hand slipped and you hissed.

ironically, your finger had pierced the sharp top of the carelessly thrown away crucifix. little droplets of blood rolled down your skin, as jakes mouth covered the wound, tongue circling over your flesh.

he releases your finger, the moon hitting the sharp ridges of his face. but there was something else, something new. two pointy fangs shimmered in the moonlight.

your eyes locked with his and you paused, they had changed as well. a red hue covered the previously brown and you realised: this wasn’t the devil seeking you out. no, it had been the night creature the old women of the town had read you stories about when you were a kid.

for a moment you just looked at each other. jakes eyes roamed over your face, looking for a trace of fear or disgust. but you surprised him, hands intertwining behind his neck as you press your lips to his, tongue slipping in between his lips.

a soft moan escaped him, his hands travelling down to your hips, positioning you onto the altar.

“want all of you,” you mumble in between kisses, your hands tugging at his shirt.

within seconds he got rid of not only his clothes, but yours as well. he heard your heartbeat hammering away between your ribs, the little vein on your neck pulsing with blood.

“don’t worry, i’ll take care of you.”

his hand settled on your hip while the other cupped your cheek. it would almost be romantic if you weren’t on top of the altar in your fathers church.

the wetness between your thighs helped him enter, yet you couldn’t help but wince at the unknown feeling.

sweet hushes left his lips, his hand rubbing up and down your waist as kissed the your squeezed eyelids.

“just give it a moment, yeah?” he assured as you took a deep breath.

“there you go, gonna make you feel so good,hm?”

and when he bottom out for the second time you felt it, the pleasure that moved through your body, engulfing you.

your nails dig into his back, feeling the muscles move under your touch. you look at him, his furrowed brows, his fangs digging into his plush bottom lip.

without thinking you push your finger down on his lip, near the fang. he looks at you and before he could ask you pushed your finger to the pointy tooth.

blood spilled almost instantly and he moaned, gaining a grin from you.

“you’re dangerous,” he breathed, tongue licking away at the blood spilling from you once again.

“says the vampire,” you shoot back.

he only chuckled at that, lips attaching themselves to your neck once again.

as if you had done this a million times, your bodies move in sync, breathless moans echoing off the holy walls.

“make me one of you, “you plead. “let me explore the world with you. don’t leave me here to rot away.”

the honesty of your words almost knocked the air out of his lungs. he motioned to pause but you clenched around him.

“no, don’t stop. please.”

his forehead dropped down onto yours, hips now moving more slowly, almost careful.

“you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

you scoff, “so you just came here to take my virginity and leave?”

his eyes softened, the red fading and his hips stilled.

“never. you have no idea how long i’ve been trying to ignore your pull. i’ve travelled the entire world, yet no place on this damned earth is far enough to make me not want you.” his hands cupped your cheeks. “you’re my ruin, do you understand that?”

you could only stare at him. was this the confession people told you of? the one that you would hear from your beloved before forever comes?

so you only had one word for him.

“please.”

for a creature rumoured to be heartless his eyes were so full of emotion. he captured your lips so softly, such a stark contract to moments ago.

you bucked your hips in invitation, a whine escaping his lips.

his lips moved down your chin, soft pecks on your chin and neck. he nestled his head between the delicate spot between your neck and shoulder.

“are you really sure?” he questioned softly.

you’ve never been allowed to make your own choices. it was follow this, do that and you’ve had enough.

“yes.”

he kissed your skin one last time before sinking his fangs into your skin.

you had expected it to sting, to burn. but all you felt was bliss.

at first, he slowly lapped at your skin, but even he couldn’t resist the sweet taste of blood for long.

as his tongue was on your throat, his cock moving in and out of you with such haste, you felt your life slip from you.

the cross loomed over you watching your damnation unfold and you smiled. this was the first own choice you’ve made. none of this mindless devotion anymore. no more lies, no more pretending.

jake felt you slip away between his hands, quickly sinking his teeth into his own wrist.

“come on, you have to drink mine.”

the metallic taste of blood hit your tongue and you moaned, leaving jake in absolute awe. no prophecy could’ve told him that this is what his fate had in mind for him.

his hips still moving, he felt your walls tightening.

“just let go pretty, i’ve got you.”

the overwhelming sensation of him dominating all your senses on top of your slowing pulse had you climaxing within seconds. jake was not too far after you, his praises drowned out by the rushing of blood in your ears.

as you took your last breath, you felt him stroke the wet strands of hair out of your face, kisses on your cheek.

the first thing you noticed when you awoke was how loud the world was. sounds you’ve never heard before hitting your ears.

you blink the dizziness away and spot him, looking down at you.

both of you were clothed. it was still dark out, so you couldn’t have been out for too long.

after a moment you realise you’re still in the church, lying in his lap as he softly caressed your face.

the sun would rise soon, you had to leave before the violent light woke. yet you felt no sadness, you mourned this town long ago. there had never been a future for you here.

he was your future now. an endless future, together. never to be alone again. the sweetest sin.

you tried your best. you really did. but he looked incredibly good. his blond hair was messier than usual and held back with a pair of aviator sunglasses. his jeans hung low on his hips, revealing the band of his playboy boxers. basically, it was impossible not to stare.

you would die if anyone found out you had a fat crush on your brother's friend, let alone nishimura riki. there wasn't even a slim chance that he reciprocated your feelings.

as he led you further into the house, you noticed the pack of marlboros stashed in the pocket of his dark wash jeans. suddenly, you find yourself lost in the thought of sharing a cigarette with him. he'd have his hand on your thigh, lean in reaaaal close, and-

"-yn?"

you blink. "huh?"

riki clears his throat. "i was just asking if you play atari?"

"dude, i told you, she sucks-"

"shut up, jake. let her answer for herself," he cuts in.

you shift your weight onto your other leg, arms folding over your chest. "i play frogger."

riki snickers. cute.

"only? what about space invaders?"

"mmm, i could try."

"no. you're ass at space invaders," jake says impatiently. "just.. watch us play or something."

you huff dramatically, batting your eyelashes while sneaking glances at riki. he chuckles at your antics, gaze dropping to his shoes before returning to your pretty face. his tongue prods the side of his cheek.

"nah, she can try. just a bit."

you grin triumphantly and give jake a knowing look. he scoffs.

"whatever.."

well, maybe riki should've listened to jake. in truth? you were absolutely terrible at space invaders. you couldn't even make it past the first wave. but riki was completely enamoured.

you had the joystick clutched in an impossible grasp, tongue sticking out slightly in concentration. you looked so determined, all that fire, just to lose over and over again. you kept peeking over at him to make sure he was watching.

"see! i almost made it!"

he bites his lip and nods teasingly. "yeah, pretty. so close."

you stilled. did he just call you.. pretty? you brain was busy short-circuiting while jake tackles riki.

"what did you just say? are you flirting with my sister? ew, perv!"

riki was struggling to get your brother off him, urgently trying to push him off so he could sit up on the bed.

"yo, chill! i'm not a perv, she's only a year younger!"

amidst the chaos, you silently slip out of the room. they were so caught up in their 'fight' that they didn't notice.

you tiptoe your way to the living room to take a breather. from there, you can hear them laughing and arguing over the game, followed by loud laser firing sounds.

"hey, i'm going to the bathroom."

you couldn't tell who said it, but it became evident when you felt the couch dip beside you. you feel a hesitant arm across the back of the couch, body warmth ghosting the back of your neck.

"you're really bad at space invaders," he says, a smile threatening to paint his lips.

at a loss for words, you finally turn to look at him. his side profile is sharp, despite the way his lips were twitching.

"you kept looking at me instead of the screen."

you open your mouth but no words exit. you got caught. embarrassingly so.

he finally meets your gaze, his tongue prodding the side of his mouth, lips parted – an unconscious habit of his you've grown to admire.

"i thought you couldn't tell," you mutter.

"you're not exactly subtle. it's cute."

he smirks slightly, a hand coming up to just barely graze your cheek.

"if only we could get your brother away for just a second," he adds, smirk since faded and tone serious.

you freeze. he likes you? or were you imagining this? is he just exploiting the fact that you like him? god, being 17 is the hardest thing ever. whatever it was, there's no way you were going to pass up the opportunity to play this game with him.

"jake? just get jungwon to invite him out somewhere. he'll follow him around like a dog," you laugh.

he joins in, laughing lowly. "really now?"

you nod. "won's having a pool party tonight. tell jake, he'll be out the front door in seconds. watch."

you stand up and walk back to the room, where jake was still glued on the game.

"jake."

no response.

"jaeyun."

"what?"

"i'm going over to minju's. are you staying or going over to jungwon's?"

he suddenly perks up. "jungwon? what's the day today?"

"saturday."

"shit! i heard mina's gonna be there. need to go. see ya." he pushes past you, hastily says bye to riki, and is out the door.

"told you."

he exhales through his nose, amused, and walks up to you. his shoes brush yours, his breath fanning over your nose. his blond hair framed his face and fell over his forehead. fingers cup your face and tilt your head back enough to meet his piercing brown eyes.

"i know, yn."

your breath hitches. the way your name rolls of his tongue so smoothly makes you shiver. you gulp.

"know what?"

"that you want me. i see the looks you give me. i notice when you want my attention or my conversation or my-" he cuts himself off sharply.

"you can have my everything," he whispers, leaning in impossibly close, lips practically touching, "if you ask nicely."

your tongue glides over your lips. this wasn't a dream. riki really was centimeters away, staring at you like your his whole world. you couldn't think of anything logical to do other than follow his command.

"please, ki."

"mmm," he hums, "please what?"

"kiss me."

and he did.

his lips finally meet your own with dizzying pressure. the press of his lips combined with his hand on your face and around your waist was all consuming. your fingertips curl into the soft fabric of his band shirt as you kiss back eagerly, like the hopeless romantic you were.

the hold on your waist drifts lower, his palm steady above the curve of your ass before he cups it with ease in his large hand. you let out a whimper in response, a sound lost in between your bodies.

when you pull away to take a breath, he groans and tries to chase after your lips.

"fuck.. need you, baby."

without another word, his arm wraps under your legs and lifts you up with ease, taking you have to his room. he lays you down on the bed that your brother was playing video games on minutes ago. you couldn't get yourself to care, too focused on the feel on his hands on you.

he lifts the hem of your shirt, his touch hot along your bare stomach. he busies his mouth with decorating your neck with bites and kisses.

"mmh," you whine, your fingers tangling in his blond locks.

"yeah, pretty," he mumbles against your neck, "keep making those sounds, hm?"

the growing heat between the two of you fueled your impatience, urging him to remove both your shirts with a grunt. your eyes immediately land on the tattoos scattered across his torso.

"you like them?" he teases.

"yeah. a lot.." you say, your eyes raking over his appreciatively. at that, he falters.

"shit.."

you press gently against his chest, pushing him back onto the bed. you slowly make your way down to the kiss mark tattoo right above his hip, tracing the art with your tongue. he hisses when you fiddle with the buttons of his jeans, lifting his hips to help you undress him.

you're finally eye level with a front row view to the playboy boxers you've been eyeing since you noticed them, and the bulge straining against the fabric.

"all this for me?" you whisper with a giggle, toying with his covered cock.

"don't do that.." somehow, his voice dropped an octave or two, and it made you want to listen to his instructions.

you slide the boxers down his legs, letting him kick them off as you settled back in between his legs. your breath fanned over his exposed erection, standing proud against his stomach and dribbling precum on his abs.

you grip the base before taking the tip in your mouth. he groans instantly, and it only spurs you on further. you take as much as you can, until he hits the back of your throat, stroking your fist around what doesn't fit.

"mngh, fuck, yn.. that's so good.."

at his praise, you start bobbing your head, matching the pace to your pumping fist.

"gonna- gonna cum," he says breathlessly, "can you swallow?"

you nod eagerly and speed up the pace, trying to bring him to the edge. you know he's close when he twitches in your mouth.

"ah- fuck!"

you feel his warm seed shoot down your throat in hot spurts and you do your best to swallow it all. he shudders beneath you once he takes in your state – saliva dripping down the corner of your mouth, eyes watery, and your nipples straining against your bra. he could've cum again on the spot.

with quick movements, he slithers an arm behind your back and undoes your bra clasp, freeing your breasts. biting his lip to conceal any sounds that might embarrass him, he flips you onto your back.

"look so pretty like this, how come i didn't do this sooner.."

shedding your denim shorts and shoving your panties to the side, he rubs the underside of his length along your folds, the only stimulation you've received this entire time. you whimper.

"riki.. more.."

he clicks his tongue. "what did i say about asking nicely?"

you almost roll your eyes at how ridiculous he's being. can't he see how your manners are clearly elsewhere right now?

"please, more, ki?"

he smirks, pushing his hair back. "of course, mama."

with one smooth thrust, he pushes into your welcoming folds. a throaty groan escapes him, while your eyes find themselves lost somewhere in the back of your head, back arching off the bed.

"nngh- shit!"

"mmh, you're so tight.."

his hands shake as they find purchase on your hips, the cool metal of the rings he wore sending shivers up your spin. he was trying to adjust to how firmly your walls were hugging him, but it was impossible. he brushed all the right places, pressing and pushing against your gummy walls in ways that made you see stars.

once he starts thrusting, his pace is agonizing. he'd pull out sloooowly, before harshly slamming back into you. you claw helplessly at the sheets, searching for any sort of grounding presence.

noticing this, riki leans forward, supporting himself above you with both hands on either side of your face. he was basically offering his biceps as something to hold onto. and you took them gladly.

"mmm, riki, i'm-"

"i know, yn, baby.. i'm right there, too," he pants. "where.. where do you want me?"

you were under some sort of sex spell, so of course you made the irrational decision of letting him finish inside.

"i- in, please.."

"are you su-" before the question even leaves his mouth, you clench particularly hard around him, silencing him in the span of a second. with a choked sound, he spills deep inside you, coating your walls white.

you follow right after with his name sweet on your lips, spasming uncontrollably around him and pushing the both of you to the brink of overstimulation.

he pulls out and watches, like a man hypnotized, as his seed leaks out of you in thick globs. looking up at him, you don't think he's ever looked more beautiful. hair sweaty and sticking to his forehead, eyes narrow and fucked out, but still a big smile on his face. he really did have that post sex glow.

he lays down beside you once you've both come down from your intense highs. you tuck your face into the crook of his neck, his ring littered fingers combing through your hair. he kissed your temple once, twice, then tilts your chin to kiss your lips.

"you're really fucking sexy," he murmurs.

"oh yeah? i'm not just jake's little sister anymore?"

"hell no."

"then what am i?" you ask, batting your eyelashes dramatically like you did before.

"well, you could be mine."

you freeze completely. unblinking, unmoving, you're surprised you still remembered to breathe.

"seriously?"

"i would never let a lady leave my bed without a first date." he shrugs. "and maybe, i just so happen to like this lady. a lot."

you bury your face in his neck further, suddenly timid.

"awwh, shy now?"

"shut up."

it was late night now. you had spent the day with riki, wearing his hoodie and sharing meals with him. now, you were both just lounging and cuddling on the same bed he wrecked you in earlier, sharing a cigarette.

when he put out the cigarette you were passing, out of curiosity, you decided to explore his room.

"can go through my stuff, if you want," he had mumbled mindlessly, his focus entirely on lighting a second marlboro, smoke from your shared smoke session still curling around him.

you found a few fashion magazines, a thriller vinyl – and in one drawer – a pink vhs tape case. you laugh and hold it up.

"pretty in pink?"

with the cigarette between his lips, he stood up fast and pointed an accusatory finger at you.

"hey! i was looking for that." he snatches it from your grasp. "it's a good movie, okay, i know it's embarrassing.."

you take the marlboro from his lips and bring it to your own, inhaling and exhaling the smoke in his face.

"not embarrassing. cute."

he looks off to the side with an expression of barely restrained amusement.

"really? i thought i was the one calling you cute."

"not anymore."

and he leaned in again, his lips dancing with your own in perfect sync.

an: i was listening to iykyk by illit and it inspired this whole thing so ALSO ABOUT SWAN SONG i may have probably released the teaser way too early but i promise it's almost done and you can expect it in a week or less ;)

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎© piercedjake june 2026 ‎‎ ⋆˙⟡

Acceptance is a big thing your family lacks doing, always seeming to be in the denial stage when it does no justice to anyone but themselves.

The selfish of the selfish, only caring about themselves and how to look the best. So due to the uncontrollable association it only must be true on your end. The apple never does fall too far from the tree.

You are not a good person.

That is what you used to believe until you met your sister's current new boyfriend, Jake.

While this was the first time you were dissecting any of her relationships, it was obvious this one was different. It wasn't like any of her old ones. There were too many loop holes on how they came to be, especially when she had just gotten out of a 1 year relationship with her longest lasting boyfriend—Heeseung.

It started off as a rough patch like always until she found herself a new boyfriend to keep her busy, and you just thought it would be someone within her usual taste.

Yet, this time she was charted into territory that she would never be caught dead in but on the opposite side, you would have an absolute field day in.

That's how indefinitely you knew you were not a good person.

Not because of the association or pressure to fit in but rather because it's just in your blood.

'He always keeps looking at me even when he's clinging to my sister like a vice and it's fucking aggravating’

'How do they cross paths? That's the million dollar question'

'Usually she's the one parading her latest boyfriend around but I just guess not this time’

'All I want to know is how she stumbled upon this gem by chance'

You scribble out the last sentence and groan loudly as you end up ripping out the page and crumbling into a ball in frustration. Huffing you squish the paper ball, your phone pinged and you glanced over to see the message 'Come over' illuminating your screen.

Sighing heavily as you flip your phone over and stand up from your chair and walk out of your room to dispose of the crumbled paper properly.

You make a mental note to search for your old trash bin in order to avoid having to come outside of your room so much.

Right when you were about to turn the corner, you yelped and dropped the paper in hand when you heard the cluttering noise in the kitchen.

Rounding the corner quickly, you catch Jake with piles of plastic containers scattered around and a small pot in hand as he stares at you like a puppy that just got caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes! Sorry, I'm okay. I just wanted to make some ramen cause I got a little hungry and your sister told me I could just go alone to make it since she didn't feel like coming with me"

"Sounds typical of her" You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose for a second before letting go and looking at him, "Do you need any help?"

Jake waves his hand and smiles warmly, "No I should manage fine hopefully" He chuckles and awkwardly rubs his nape, "If not you can come running back when you start to smell smoke or hear a loud thud"

"Oh don't worry I'll be on high alert" He chuckles softly and it makes you softly smile back before clearing your throat at the awkward silence, "Well uhm l'm gonna go, please don't blow up our house "

"Can't make any promises"

You give a tight smile as you quickly speedwalk away as fast as you could before it can be considered running.

Grumbling under your breath when you made it back your room, you thump your head back against the door and closed yours eyes with a deep sigh, "She doesn't deserve him"

"Hey wait!" Jake calls out when he sees the balled paper sitting perfectly where you once stood but sighs heavily when he realizes you were gone

He stoops down and picks up the discarded paper and he knows he should be more mindful to not read it. But, he's a curious person.

He unfolds the paper and once it's flattened out just enough, he glances over it and proceeds to reread the note or more like diary entry way more than he would like to admit.

There was a beating in his chest that he couldn't control and the small smile grew wider until his teeth were showing. Trying to hide it with a hand over his mouth as he kept repeating the first two sentences.

'Dear diary, I have a confession to make'

'My sister's boyfriend is fucking hot'

Jake gulps down his happiness to neatly fold the wrinkled paper and tuck into his pocket, "Your dirty secret is safe with me"

⊹ ࣪ ˖

You were tiptoeing out of your room, biting down on your tongue to hold back a hiss for the loud click of the closing door behind you echoing in the dead silent house.

Stopping dead in your tracks to roam your eyes around the empty hallway. When noticing it didn’t alarm anyone you sighed out in relief. Only managing to take two steps from your door until you nearly jumped out of your skin at the soft whisper, “Heading out somewhere?”

You tensed recognizing the deep accented voice before painfully turning around to see your sister’s boyfriend standing straight with an empty bowl in hand.

“What are you still doing up?” Your quiet whisper made Jake look at you up and down, taking in your appearance with thin lips as his grip around the bowl tightened

“I could ask you the same, where are you going so.. Dolled up?” Jake watched how you deviated your gaze away from him when questioned

It hadn’t even been less than an hour ago where you caught him making a mess in your kitchen just to make a bowl of ramen. Now he’s catching you crawling out of your room to go somewhere that isn’t your home.

Jake looked at you as the words of the paper tucked away safely in his pocket rang through his head. He shuffles his weight between his feet, you were still yet to find out he picked up the dropped diary entry.

‘Dear diary, I have a confession to make’

‘My sister’s boyfriend is fucking hot’

His mouth runs dry, he tries to swallow the lump and covers it by his mouth turns into a slight pout as you notice the change of expression.

A burning warmth spreads across your cheek as an unease settles in your body the longer you’re in his presence. “I was just“

“Sneaking out to go to her little boyfriend’s house” A third voice chimed in and recognizing it anywhere, you look to your sister emerging from her room and walking towards the both of you

“He’s not my boyfriend” You quickly snapped but she waved you off with a laugh and ignored the harsh glare you sent her

Unbeknownst of the look Jake shot your way the moment he heard your sister’s words—a failure to mention that minor detail, his eyes raked back over you, his bottom lip pouting out more.

“Right, he’s just a friend” She put the last words in air quotes before laughing a scoff and wrapping her hands around Jake’s bicep giving him a smile before looking back at you, “Go while I’m still in a good mood”

“Unless you want me to tell mom and dad you’re sneaking out again” You narrowed your gaze, the heavier glare sent to not phasing her in the slightest

Moving your lips in an uncomfortable manner, you bite on your tongue and turn a sharp heel to head towards the front door without a word.

“Such a brat” Your sister rolled her eyes before tugging at Jake, “You still haven’t put the bowl away in the kitchen? Whatever let’s go to bed, I’m tired”

Jake’s eyes remained where you once stood before a harsher tug pulled him out of the daze and back to the reality of your sister—his girlfriend pulling at him.

“Right” He muttered under his breath, “What were you doing up anyway? I thought you said you were going to sleep” Jake murmurs to your sister as he stares off to the distance in hopes of catching a glimpse of the front door

His girlfriend gave another harsh pull on his arm that woke him up from his haze. In a confused face, he looked up to your sister, mouth ajar at the glaring gaze examining him, “She always acts out like that if that’s what you’re wondering”

“Our parents told her to stop messing around and just focus on her studies but she just doesn’t listen” Your sister sneered at the reminder of your reckless actions, “I’ve even had to receive an earful for not keeping a closer eye on her when they first caught her sneaking out”

“There’s been more than one instance?” Jake flinches when your sister laughs out loud, he remains silent since he didn’t even have to say anything, your sister just rambled out everything he wanted to know

“Oh there’s been so many times that I can’t even keep track anymore”

“I’ve told her so many times to be better in sneaking out because I won’t cover for her” You sister dragged him back to the room and threw herself onto the bed in a loud huff, “Plus her and her little fuck buddy that she calls a friend isn’t going anywhere, so I don’t get the point of risking our parent’s trust for it”

She roughly pushed herself up to look at him with a scowl at Jake’s lack of agreement to her statement, “Am I right?”

“How long have they been seeing each other?” Jake glossed over it with a voice scratchier and more pronounced than usual as he rested up against the closed door

Your sister perked at the question and raised an eyebrow, “I don’t know, a few months maybe? I don’t keep tabs on her life”

“So there’s no attachment between them? Just two people messing around?” Jake awkwardly clears his throat and rubs the back of his nape with his freehand

“She swears that they're just friends but I call bullshit on that” Your sister rolls her eyes at the instance that whatever it may be is anything but innocent, “Otherwise she wouldn’t be pulling this type of shit for the sake of friendship”

Her ramble stops abruptly as she stares at Jake with raised eyebrows for his sudden curiosity about you. It was interesting when Jake had shown no interest in you when she first mentioned you to him.

Leaning forward, her elbows perched on her knee as she zeroed in on Jake with a tugging smirk, “Why so curious?”

He harshly gulped, both hands pressed the bowl into the middle of his chest as his mind racked for anything and every thought imaginable to save himself, “Just want to look out for her. Make sure she doesn’t get heartbroken from messing with the wrong guy”

“Aww look at you worrying over my sister, aren’t you just such a caring boyfriend”

⊹ ࣪ ˖

Laying on your back, you kept shifting your body weight to get comfortable to sleep but you couldn’t seem to get any shut eye when you kept hearing your sister’s giggle down the hallway followed by Jake’s deeper chuckle.

You plopped yourself on your side harshly with a recoil and sighed heavily. Meeting Jake the first time was a revolutionary moment, you’re still just unsure if it was for the worst or the best.

"Uh... What happened to Heeseung?" The question imposed innocence and probably should have been asked during a time when it was just you and your sister and not be the first thing you asked when you opened the door for her after not seeing her for months

But it just slipped out before you could stop it.

It was just that seeing an unfamiliar face next to your sister, a sweet smile stretched on his face with loosely baggy clothes fitting him perfectly was odd when her and Heeseung had just celebrated their one year.

You hissed when a hand flew your way and smacked your arm. Immediately jerking yourself away from it and looking at your mom's warning gaze. "I am so sorry for that! She doesn't know when to be quiet" She loudly chuckled to fill the awkward silence

Your sister's hand gripped around the male's bicep tighter before straining out a smile, "This is my boyfriend, Jake"

Looking over to the male next to her, you took in his appearance. He was nowhere near her usual type and you knew your sister was very adamant on who she spent her time with.

Yet, noticing the fluff of his hair, his soft and warm eyes, high cheekbones for the sheepish smile he had as he talked to your parents, his giggle that was light but strong—He was the perfect fit of your ideal type.

“Congratulate your sister” Your mom whispered into your ear with a grip of your arm before letting go to show a wide smile with opened arms to the new addiction of the family

Jake gave your dad a firm handshake until it got to your turn. His eyes landed on you, looking up and down—taking in your appearance with a slight nod that you would’ve missed if you weren’t paying close attention.

He leaned in, his arms opening and engulfing you into a hug before you could even retaliate. You suddenly become rigid in the embrace, his hands sprawled across your lower and mid back to flush your bodies together before he lets go with a smile lingering on his face. “Nice to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you”

Sneaking a glance to your sister with furrowed eyebrows before giving a kind smile, “Nice to meet you too” You quietly greeted which prompted his smile to grow in size

It would be a long break with your parents, your sister and her new boyfriend

⊹ ࣪ ˖

When your parents suggested the pool to cool off during the heat. Jake didn’t imagine you’d invite whoever it was rubbing sunblock all over your back.

Sunglasses perched on his high nose bridge did nothing to hide his burning gaze at the fit of giggles you let out.

Forced to watch the guy spreading the moisture onto his hands before splattering it onto your back making you squeal from how cold it was. Jake sees the wide smile the guy had hearing you giggle and he dug his nails deep into the flesh of his palm.

What you didn’t notice but Jake did was the way the guy looked at you while you weren’t paying attention. How the wide smile softened and became warm.

It was like a bubble that surrounded you both—away from everyone. Away from him. It settled something weird in him, an ache in his chest that bubbled something nasty.

“Jake, can you put sunblock on my back?” He snapped away from your direction at the sound of his girlfriend right in front of him, holding the bottle that was just at your side a moment ago

He pursed his lips out before grabbing the bottle from your sister and lathering it over his hands before motioning for her to sit down. His hands threaded to her skin though his mind was in a different place.

Trying to focus on the flesh of skin under his hands but his eyes wondered where you were sitting but he stopped his hands when there was no sight of you. The sudden sound of splashing water followed by your loud laughter slipped past his ringing ears.

He whipped his head towards the source to see you already in the pool, swimming closer to the guy who dipped his feet in as he fondly smiled at you.

“Hey why’d you stop?” Your sister snapped her head to Jake

However, instead of sticking by her side like she said to, he suddenly took of his shirt and his legs picked him up and threw himself into the pool before he could second guess himself

You turned away to stop the water from getting into your face at the sudden cannonball in the pool. Turning around when the coast was clear but to your shock, Jake was already swimming towards you.

You straightened your posture as he grew closer, he slicked back his wet hair, the water droplets falling onto his forehead before skidding down the side of his face.

He gave the signature shy smile he gave when you first met and extended his hand out, not to you but to who was in front of you, “Nice to meet you, name’s Jake”

Sneaking a glance towards you before pulling his arm from behind and gripping Jake’s into a firm shake, “Nice to meet you, I’m Jay”

“So how long have you two been dating?” Jake fiddled a finger between you two, a fake smile bright on his face

The sudden question made your eyes nearly pop out while Jay coughed and retreated his hand back to his side with an awkward laugh.

“I thought I told you babe, they aren’t dating” Your sister’s voice chimes as she carefully dipped her legs into the pool and extended her arms out, waiting for him to come to her

Jake sneaks a glance to your unreadable gaze and lets out a sigh under his breath before moving towards where your sister waited. “They’re just merely screwing around, isn’t that right sis?” Your sister shot you a look you knew far too well

You grimace at how she grabbed onto Jake’s offered hands and dipped into the pool with a slight shiver by the contrast of temperature. Not choosing to respond, you gravitate towards Jay who only gave you a strained smile before entering the pool himself.

Jake watched how you and Jay were nearing closer together and felt his chest cave in itself, without thinking his mouth moved before he could stop himself, “Why don’t we play marco polo?”

Everyone looked at him with weird expressions and he awkwardly smiled, nervously swishing the water away around him. “I mean why not right? Gives us time to spend together”

Whilst, no one was fond of his decision—he could tell that much, they all still reluctantly agreed, having nothing better to do than just swimming and chilling in the pool.

Instead of following traditional rules, the game was twisted in their own ways. Instead of having only one person close their eyes, everyone does and you can open them once you find someone.

Now closed eyes, arms stretched out that he was sure he looked silly.

“Marco!” He was the first to yell out, heart thumping in his chest as he realized how he didn’t have much sense around him besides touch and sound

Hearing how the swashing over water overruled any other sound until he heard the sweetness of your voice calling out, “Polo!” There was a twinge of excitement in your voice

Before he could open his mouth to respond back, the only other husky deep voiced chipped in as the sound of the rustling in water grew closer, “Marco”

Something switched in Jake as his feet moved on their own. Pulling him in the direction his gut screamed at him to go in. “Polo!” He responded, his hands moving around to get a touch of warmth

“Marco” He heard the in the faint distance of your sister responding but choosing to ignore it and move farther from it, he trusted his gut feeling more than he should have

“Polo” Jay responded back once noticing your sister was getting no response from anyone

“Marco” You decided to chirp in and Jake could feel his heart pounding out of his chest when it sounded like it came from right of him

His hands naturally gravitated towards the noise as he threaded as quickly as possible to be unnoticed if it were actually you—which he is almost positive it is.

The plush warmth of skin was jaw dropping, it was much softer than your sister’s skin that he couldn’t help but dig his nails in. You slightly hissed and he bit down on his bottom lip to conceal the smile that would go unnoticed by anyone already. “Polo” He huskily whispered and he could feel the small bumps forming under his fingertips, “Got you”

You tried to wither out of his touch realizing the accented voice wasn’t the one you were with just a few moments ago but Jake kept you planted where he found you. “Ok-” A hand slapped or tried to cover your mouth that made you squeal

“Don’t want to ruin the fun now do we? We only just started playing” His reasoning that didn’t make sense, you always could just do another round at least that what you would hope for

However, you remained silent and tapped his forearm to release you but your hand rested there for a second longer than you anticipated.

The popping veins on his skin, tracing all over made you shudder under your breath as you were pushed up the pool wall followed by a heavy presence over you.

“Jake” You shakily called his name and he felt something twitch unsure if it was internal or external, all he cared about was that the way you said his name so breathlessly and worry

He doesn’t trust himself to say anything but just can’t seem to keep his hands off of you. He hears the way the breath got sucked right back into your throat and feels the way your heart pounds out of your chest.

Your skin burned under his lingering touches, how he manages to make you feel like you were stripped bare was concerning when you still had the garments covering your body at least to make sure nothing was seen.

You tried to push his shoulder but freeze at how wide—much broader than anything they feel under your hands. Seeing them and feeling them under your hand were two completely different things.

The push of his leg in between your thighs as if to support your body up had you sitting on top of his knee and you resume your attempt to push away your sister’s boyfriend.

“It’ll be tiring if you keep standing. I got you” The words brushed into your ear and a shiver ran down your spine

“I don’t need your help” You murmured but when his body flushed to you in excuse of not wanting to get caught because by his logic with your bodies squished together, you both will be counted as one, “What are you doing?”

“Making sure we stay in the game” He responds far too quickly like he’s rehearsed it numerous times, “We don’t want to get caught do we?”

Jake can’t bring himself to let go of you, you fit perfectly in his hold especially knowing if Jay and his girlfriend just opened their eyes you’d be caught.

Instead of feeling dread and fear like how you are currently feeling, he realizes it’s bad that he doesn’t care if they saw you two. There are no eyes on them besides the four of them—so who cares?

Well you did. Especially you.

When Jake hears swishing of water, his heartbeat picks up and he could feel you pushing at his chest but he doesn’t budge. Instead he grips onto the ledge for even more ground to keep him close to you.

“What the fuck?” Your sister shrieked causing you and Jake’s eyes open to each other's face so close to one another

Your breaths fanned over while he looked at you with a repressed gleam and a shake under his breath when he saw you trapped in his arms and sitting on his knee.

You looked away to see your sister frowning with crossed arms over her chest and Jay facing the opposite side of the pool awkwardly squatting and arms out to catch anyone.

You instantly push yourself out of the pool, leaving Jake in the same position he trapped you in. Trying to hide the burning under your cheeks to quickly walk back into the house.

Jay yelled your name when he noticed you leaving and chased after you the moment he pulled himself out of the pool. Jake cringed at the sight but sucked in a breath when your sister laughed behind him.

“What was that about?” Your sister came up behind Jake and smacked his burnt back making him hiss at the reddening mark splayed on there

However, Jake never looked back to his girlfriend once, instead he kept himself focused on where you once were and where you disappeared off to in the house with Jay trailing after like a lost puppy.

“Just trying to not get caught”

⊹ ࣪ ˖

Jake is trying to focus on the warm home cooked meal, he just can’t seem to get his eyes off the way Jay wrapped his arm at the back of your chair.

Which just so happened to be in front of him as you laughed into his personal space as he spoke to your parents like a talk show host.

A natural charm that wooed them for who knows how long. He found it amusing how he was the boyfriend and wasn’t getting the slightest bit of attention because Jay had it all.

It was more ironic seeing how you and Jay were the only ones on the other side of the dining table and the rest of them were squeezed into one row.

Having to watch Jay whisper something in your ear before pulling back to admire your giggles was annoying enough.

But immediately you stopped when remembering you’re at a dinner with your family including your sister’s boyfriend was better than any comedy show he’s ever watched.

You clear your throat and straighten up your posture and Jake sees the way Jay smugly leans back in his chair and lifts a leg over his knee with a sweetening smile towards your parents.

“So what are you two?”

You shy away from the question asked by your parents but Jake being too curious for his own good, a habit he needs to desperately fix.

He jumps in to be a good look out on the boys you’re fooling around with.

“Yeah? Want to make sure she isn’t messing with the wrong crowd do we?” Every eyes were on him before being focusing on Jay who coughed into his fist with a quick smile

“Oh we are just friends” Jay wraps an arm around and brings your closer to his side

Jake, who couldn’t watch what was in front of him anymore, gripped the utensil and stabbed his food with so much force that it clanked against the plate in a loud manner.

Everyone’s attention shifted to him again made him feel like a dog who just got in trouble with the way he cowered into himself with a soft apology leaving his mouth.

Your mom clears her throat and leans over and smiles warmly at Jake who returns the gesture, “Say Jake, how did you and my daughter meet mhm? I bet it’s a cute love story”

“Mom” Your sister whines and your mother jumps in a laugh at the normal remark, while Jay joined in laughing.

Jake looked over to you as you stayed silent and only looked at your plate. Too engrossed with fiddling with the food when you were kicked directly in the shin.

Silently groaning and lifting your head up with a scowl thinking it was your sister but instead see Jake mouthing an apology.

Your words die on your tongue and slowly nod your head in acceptance of the apology and try to rejoin your attention on your mom and sister bickering while Jay talked with your dad.

When you reached over to get Jay’s attention you got kicked again straight to your shin. You snapped your head towards Jake who silently apologized again.

Yet, there was no sign of actual remorse behind that toothy grin and blown out eyes. You shifted in your seat to see if that could stop the hits to your leg but when you got struck again you nearly launched yourself up from your chair to yell at Jake to leave you alone.

The first few times you looked past it, accepted it to be a mistake but after what felt like the millionth time you were growing tired of it.

Instead of doing something to get him to stop, you stayed rooted in your chair and kicked back with less force in his direction.

Jake holds back his grin as he pushes at your ankle noticing your annoyance towards him. Yet, when you push him back, he feels ecstatic.

Your hands gripped the ends of the chair to focus on bringing the equal or if not more force in your kicks the same way Jake was kicking you.

When he finally came to a stop, you thought it was over with a sigh of relief.

Until you felt a graze at the bone of your ankle. You send a hard glare his way and he only perches his elbow on the table and covers his mouth with his hands as he stares directly back at you.

He allows his foot to trail up the bare of your leg, the way it glided against your skin that he thanks the lotion you put on after the much needed shower from the eventful day in the pool.

You squirm in your seat and you try to pull your leg away but when he hooks the front of his foot to the back of your calf, you don't attempt to pull away anymore.

Jake covered his smile under his hand but he swore it could be felt by a mile away.

He sees how your head hangs low, visibly shaking under his foot trailing higher up your leg. When he passed your knee he decided to trace the ball with the tip of his foot to feel the light shiver it caused you.

Harshly pulling on his bottom lip to conceal the giggle daring to escape he raises his foot past onto your thigh. You squished your thighs together and Jake’s smile turned into a frown instantly.

He tapped at the plush in a silent plea but when you refused, the tips of mouths grew lower when you were pulling away.

Jake grabbed the back of your knee and kept you in place before perking up when your mother focused on him again after having all of her attention on Jay practically the entire dinner, “Say Jake, what are you studying?”

“Engineering” He answers with a kind smile making you cough to clear your throat at his reply

Jake sends one last soft kick at the side of your thigh making you jump and bang your knee onto the table.

“Woah you okay?” Jay worriedly asked and leaned in to you to see what happened but you flushed your body over the table to make sure he couldn’t see Jake’s retracting foot from your side of the table back to his own

“Wait, aren't you failing some engineering course?” Your sister mumbles under her breath to take a jab at you but Jake picked up on it instantly

“You’re struggling with a class?” He innocently asked like a puppy that wasn't just tormenting you under the table

“I can help you out with that! Wouldn’t want you to fail a summer class right?” The smile he was giving everyone was too faxed and down right sinister but everyone believed it except you

When peeking through the corner of his eyes to you. He thumbs his lips and tilts his head while sucking in a breath and lightly shaking his head as he looks at you.

“You should be careful though” Jake licks his lips with a concerned pout

He traces his eyes over your jaw and down to your clear neck before looking back and replacing the pout with a lopsided grin that reached his eyes, “You look like you can bruise easily”

⊹ ࣪ ˖

“Not sleeping over Jay?” Jake’s voice broke through the hushed whispers between you and the said male when he suddenly appeared behind the front door and took it out of your grasp

You snap your head towards the make who innocently rose his hands up, “I’m just asking”

Trying your best to hold back from rolling your eyes you smile warmly at Jay who laughed awkwardly and shook his head before giving a tight lip and took a step out of the door.

“Don’t let the door hit you on your way out!” Jake cheerily chimes and slammed the door shut before the male could get any response back to him

You narrow your eyes at him and he only sheepily smiles like he knew no wrong that it ticked your nerves.

“What the fuck” Jake flinched when you sneer at him but your gaze averts when your sister snickered off from the side

“You should be lucky mom and dad didn’t question you anymore about inviting a friend over” The glare you gave her could be felt from a mile away but it didn’t phase her in the way you hoped, “This is supposed to be a family bonding summer sis”

“I’m going to wash up first” She strides over to Jake and plants a soft kiss to his cheek, your hands balled at your side when she never broke eye contact once from you

Jake remains frozen in place long after your sister walks off, leaving the two of you together. Your eyes fidget around one another but never on each other.

When you walked off, he trailed after you and you didn’t bother to shake him off. You knew it would be impossible to escape him when he’s sleeping under the same roof.

Sighing heavily and plopping yourself onto your couch and stretching your neck to the side, a loud hum ripping your throat as you tried to massage your aching muscles.

It would’ve stayed silent, just like how you would’ve wanted, if he wasn’t the one to break the silence with the voice that rose goosebumps at the back of your neck.

“I was serious about what I said”

“Which part?” Jake chuckles at the snarky remark and he nods his head in defeat but he sighs heavily and tilts his head to the side making the fluff of his hair to fall to the side and curtain his face perfectly for you to see him

“About helping you out with your engineering class. Not to toot my own horn but I am pretty familiar in that department” When you peek in the corner of your eye to see Jake’s grin, you instantly shake your head at the offering

You were trying everything in your power to stay away from Jake as much as possible but the more hours spent with him, the more that possibility diminished.

Focusing on stretching the muscles on your own, you feel the warmth hovering your skin that makes you jump in place. Peering over your shoulder, Jake is sitting closer than before with a softer closed smile.

“What are you doing?” You whisper low, afraid that if you spoke louder, it would entail something and you didn’t need that on your conscious

“I give good massages” He justifies by shaking his hands, “Ask your sister”

You shudder at the thought of your sister and you shook your head, “I rather not”

“Does that mean I can give you one?” He looked helpless, eyes riming with a gloss and a pout that jutted out his plush bottom lip, “Please”

“I would hate to see you in pain” You scoff at his remark and choosing to stick to as minimal words as possible, you adjust yourself to the edge of the couch with your back turned to Jake

“Yeah right, you were straight up kicking me like some socc-” Your voice gets caught in your throat the moment Jake’s hand lands on your shoulders and immediately squeeze them

“Relax. you’re so tensed” You sucked in a breath and bit on your lip to stop the strained noise from slipping out. He whispers in the shell of your ear that nearly made you rip away from him, “Just relax for me”

The words were slurred and felt hot against your neck. It would kill you to give him the satisfaction but you swear he can see it by the way he giggles and continues the motion on your neck.

The tips of his finger tips glide up and down your spinal cord nearly making your topple over but when the rest of his fingers dig into your shoulder blade, you yelp before a soft moan enlightens from you.

Jake didn’t pull away like you thought he would, instead he only worked in silence to feel the way you melt into his hands. His chest swells in a satisfaction he never had before.

“I want to say I’m sorry about the pool thing” You weren’t planning on saying anything for the weak apology but instead the words slipped past your mouth like it was second nature

“No it’s okay. Like you said it was to win the game” The purpose of the the game was to not get caught by anyone and yet, you and Jake failed completely but in your books, it counts as a win

His touches burned through your skin like straight fire. It was messing with your mind that you didn’t question them roaming down your back to your sides.

You only let your eyes flutter close and enjoy the feel of his calloused hands holding you. Your head lulled to the side and focused on how his hands held you—A delicate touch that excited you in every wake of his fingers gliding over your skin.

“Is that good?” He asked when your head was too hazy to answer

Not realizing the weak moan coming out instead, you realize when Jake halts his movements as he grips your shoulders and it snaps you awake from the daze.

He could feel the tension rising back into your fibers and noticing his hand flinched around your shoulder, you pulled yourself away hastily that you nearly fell off the couch.

However, reaching out to you in the process, you fell right into the arms waiting to catch you from the fall.

Instead of falling forward, you’re pulled to the side and your hands rest on his chest as he hovers over you. A knee lodge between your squished legs, his face just right above yours, and a widening silence that made your heart hammer out.

You could feel how his arms wrap tighter around from under, a drowning feeling filling to muffle the ringing in your ears. Seeing how his eyes search over your face only to land back to your eyes that didn’t deviate from his own made your knees buckle.

How thankful you were to already be lying down.

Your hands fist the material of his loose shirt and it stretches the collar but Jake didn’t seem to care when he didn't flinch in the slightest.

Unsure if your mind was playing tricks but the way his eyes flicker down to your lips and almost as if he was leaning in closer made it feel like he wanted to kiss you.

Weird right?

“Jake” You softly called his name and it jerked something inside of him as his breath fanned over yours that you can smell the musked cologne he wore to cover up the underlying chlorine smell from the pool

He didn’t answer, choosing the silence to speak louder than anything he could say.

Jake didn’t pick on the faint footsteps but you did. Years of living under the same roof, you pick up on patterns and it was like instinct when you shove him off of you and he landed straight to the floor.

He yelped and sent a confused look your way but when the cheering voice of your sister came back to stop at the opening of the living room to see you and Jake still alone.

She didn’t get a chance to say anything as you quickly pushed yourself up from the couch in a haste and to your wobbly feet best ability, rushed past without a glance to the male on the floor whose gaze followed you until you were out of sight.

“What the fuck was that?” Your sister snaps Jake out of his trance and he sighs heavily and dusts the dirt off his clothes, lingering at his chest where you held before dropping his hand

“Nothing. I was just telling your sister what timing our tutoring session will be” He oddly said louder than usual while his girlfriend looks at him confused but doesn’t question it

Little did she know that you rested behind the wall you disappeared by and stared ahead with a shaky breath passing your lips because you knew there was no way of escaping him.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

You were grumbling under your breath, you don’t want to do this.

With a hand hovering the door, you gulped down the lump in your throat and softly knocked to get out of your thoughts.

Instantly, you heard shuffling and your sister screaming, “Hold on, give us a minute!”

Retracting your hand away at the breathless tone in her voice, you listen to the cluttering and thudding from the other side of the door.

Rapid feet scrambling with hushed voices that you couldn’t hear but the door yanked open just enough to see your sister’s disheveled state.

She was out of breath and her sweet smile fell when she saw that it was just you. A loud huff fell from her mouth as she pulled the door open enough for you to see inside and spot Jake lying on her bed panting with his body covered by the sheets.

“I thought you were mom and dad” Jake snapped his head over to see you standing like a stick at the doorway

He scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over himself to fall face first before picking himself up to stand next to your sister. From the dreading face and ragged breaths, it was all you needed to know.

Ripping your gaze away with a frown and looked to your sister with a strained lip, “Mom is calling you for shopping”

“She’s paying?” When you nod, she squeals loudly and claps her hand, “Give me 5 minutes”

Your sister twirled on her heel, leaving you and Jake alone. Too often being left alone with him was worrying.

Keeping your line of sight trained on the floor while he stared at you through his lashes. It was particularly hard to keep himself from saying something that could ruin the moment but it was even harder to not do it.

“So-” He starts but your sister comes back beside him with a frown at you still being there

“Are you going with us?” You instantly shake your head and a bright smile returns to her face, “Perfect, it’ll just be me, Jakey, and mom”

“Actually” Jake steps in the moment he was mentioned, “Me and your sister have our first tutoring session so I won’t be able to make it. I’m sorry” The apology felt half assed but the look of annoyance on her face was everything you needed to let out a small smile

She sent Jake a glare before walking back into her room without another word. He sighs heavily in relief that he escaped her wrath but he sucks in a breath when he sees your narrowed eyes pointed at him.

“What tutoring?” It registers in your mind the moment the words fall from your mouth and you instantly shake your head with a scoff, “Absolutely not. I told you I don’t need it-”

“Jake! Are you joining me and my daughter today?” Your mom from behind to check that you actually relayed the message instead of backing out

The flattering smile on his face was replaced with a fake bright one as you quickly stopped talking to see him lightly shake his head and holds his arms behind his back. Chest pumping out of his shirt that made you turn a gaze away.

“I was just telling her that I sadly have to decline in order to help this one over here with her engineering class” Your left eye twitches when Jake pursed his lips towards you with a light laugh

“You’re such a sweetheart Jake. Thank you so much for doing this” Your mother gleefully clasped her hands together as if it were the best news to hear

“I’m sorry that you have to take matters into your own hands. We told her to not bite off more than she can chew but she never listens” Your mother laughs and pats your back repeatedly as if to comfort you

Jake’s brow querked and he held back his grin by covering it with a laugh with the perfect timing of your sister being already ready.

“Bye” She waves and doesn’t bat an eye to either of you, almost as if you didn’t exist in her world, nothing far from the obvious

“Uh honey aren’t you forgetting something?” Your sister pulls her sunglasses up in confusion at your mom’s question

Yet before she could say anything, Jake jumps in with a laugh, “My hug”

You instantly notice how your sister becomes rigid and tries to laugh it off with an awkward hug. It was barely considered one with how he wrapped one arm around her and she barely even touched him.

He didn’t tighten his hold—not like how he did it with you.

“Nonsense! I meant a kiss!” You mother giggled behind a hand that she waved, “Don’t be so shy around us”

“Mom” Your sister grits through her teeth, “Let’s just go”

However your mother only became more encouraging to see more, “Just one kiss! That’s all I ask” As your sister drags her away before she can say anything more

In the distance, you can hear the faint bickering but the slam of the front door was a great indicator that they left. You sighed heavily but jumped when you felt a breath tickle your ear.

Turning your head around to see Jake leaning in with a grin spread across his face. “Woah what’s up with the hostility? That’s no way to treat your sister’s boyfriend”

The reminder of his relation had you scrunch your face to hide away the scowl daring to show over.

It was a whiplash you weren’t prepared for, the complete difference from how he was acting with your mom.

“Let’s go?”

“What?”

“You didn’t think I was lying about the tutoring session right?” Jake laughs like it was the funniest thing he has ever heard, “Oh no I was being serious”

“I already told you that I don’t need tutoring” You snapped but see how Jake only sighs and walks into your sister's room leaving you outside

You blink but remain rooted in place until he comes back in view. He held a folded paper, fiddling it between his fingertips before smiling to himself and handing it over. You suspiciously look between him and the paper as he shakes it for you to grab.

Instead of being gentle, you yank it from him and he smiles before retracting his hand.

Upon opening the paper, you crumble it instantly and throw it against his chest with a grimace, “Is this some joke?”

He bent down and picked up the paper with a kiss of his teeth, “Don’t be wasteful. We must be grateful of our environment and recycle what we can”

“How did you get my gradebook?” You snapped when he straightened his posture and sheepishly smiled seeing how your frown only pulled further down, “Answer me Jake”

“Your mom” He said easily, as if it were only natural for him have his hands on it, “She slipped it under the door with a sticky note for me”

He waved the pink slip in between his fingers and when you tried to grab it from him, he pulled away with a smile as he turned it over and read it out loud, “As you can see her grade for the class is the worst out of everything this semester. Can you please help her out” He empathized the please from the written note by your mom and it made your angry

“Unbelievable. I told her that- How did she even get access to my account?” Jake watched your distress and the dirty look you gave him when you see the sparkle in his eyes, “Don’t look at me like that”

“That’s no way to treat your tutor is it? C’mon. Just let me help you out. I’m pretty confident I know what I’m doing” The pride omitted from him wasn’t comforting in the slightest

You nibble away at your lip making it grow raw. You know the failing grade would knock your GPA down if you don’t manage to get it up before the course ends.

You were a scholar—you took pride in that, your parents were aware, Jay knew, your sister even knew it, and now Jake knows that.

As now there was a gnawing in your stomach that yelled at you to focus on the paper on your sister’s desk. There was no way to get rid of the visual haunting your thoughts instead of the physics question in front of you.

While Jake was sitting in your tutoring session with physics engineering questions already printed out, you caught sight of his lockscreen the moment he put down his phone right next to you on the table.

It showed a picture of him and your sister, hands softly intertwined as he hovers his head closer to her face with a soft stretched smile.

Stop thinking about it. Stop it. Why does he look so good? And why is it with your sister? You tried to shake these thoughts from you to force your attention on the paper

However, you couldn’t focus on the printed sheet or the dusted textbook beside you or even the pen that wasn’t yours clenched in your hand.

Every crossing thought was just about that picture and Jake who sat behind you with his arm cradling the back of your chair.

You hadn’t dared to look behind you, it felt impossible to breathe when you were too focused on the heavy breathing against your back.

“That’s the wrong answer” Jake whispered softly into your skin when he noticed the empty piece of paper

“I didn’t even start the problem” You replied and he snickers at the weak excuse

“That’s the issue. You can’t not rush engineering” He sighs and you peek over your shoulder to see him so close to you, you hold your breath and he tilts his head to the side

“We must be precise but fast. No room for mistake but enough to be efficient”

“Think you can handle that?” The corner of his mouth lifted to the side, “I mean it seems like you always seem to bite off more than you can handle”

You were looking at him with an unreadable expression but the excitement was felt in his bones. He shifts himself behind you, arms wrapping around almost as if to cage you, “You start the question like this”

The more he leaned in closer, the more the familiar cologne filled your nose and made your head woozy. His calloused hands engulf yours to guide over the paper.

Never once did he look away from your shivering eyes. He pursed his lips towards the paper to direct your attention but you didn’t look away.

Your eyes jumped from in between his, a rumbling feeling in your lower abdomen when trailing to the tall nose bridge you spotted from the moment you saw him, pink plump lips that he sucks between his teeth.

“You’re not paying attention” He hums and you knew you weren’t, you were trying to snap out of it, even if you had a vendetta against your sister, it didn’t mean you would be like this

Even if she played dirty with you, it shouldn’t mean you should play dirty back right?

The sound of the front door snapped you out and you stood up in a haste, the chair screeching from underneath, pushing Jake away in the process, “Okay that’s enough for today”

Jake leaned back in the chair, his lower body pushed out and legs spread open as he watched you gathering what you can and rustling out of the room.

You didn’t even look back at him but you could still feel his gaze on you while your sister yelled for Jake to come help with the bags.

Left with the lingering thought of your words through his head. He shakes his head to himself. It’s a lie he reminds himself that neither of you could possibly believe.

It would never be enough. Not until he finally has you.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

Another day, another distraction.

“I told you to stop flipping” You squealed as Jay flipped into the pool making the water get all over you

Jay emerges from underwater, swimming to the ledge where you sat on with your legs dipped in. He cheekily smiles and shakes his wet hair in close proximity as you try to kick him away but he grabs your ankles before you could succeed.

He holds your ankles as he adjusts himself right in between your legs and wraps them around his back.

When you see his side smile, you can’t hold back your own as you push back his dripping hair back into a slick back, “You know I always love seeing your hair pushed back”

“You do? Last time I did it, I thought you hated it” You laugh and shake your head as you rake your fingers through his hair

Your light tugs let dark hums to erupt from his throat while his eyes fluttered closed making you admire him.

“You’re getting badly pruned” You point out when his hands come up and grab on your thighs, the bumps on his skin were soft—Jay’s hands were always soft, never a callous in sight despite working out often

“I could stay in this moment” He ignores your words as he lays his head on your lap, you squeeze your thighs together—keeping him close to you and continue to brush his hair, “You’re so warm”

You don’t pick up on his compliment. You peered over your shoulder to the house that you’ve constantly been checking for the past hour.

This time you catch a sway of a curtain that you instantly think must've been Jake. Shaking your head from that thought because Jake left to go shopping with your sister and mom.

It was just you and Jay—there was no way it could’ve been him.

The wet kisses that were pressed against your skin were what ripped your attention to the male who was now gleaming up at you. His eyes speaking louder than anything and it made your heart rate stay the same.

“Could get lost by you” Jay’s lustful voice made shivers run down your spine

You locked eyes with him, the weakened smile lazily spread on his face as he tilts his head just slightly to the side with a soft pout and shining eyes from the reflection of the sunlight hitting the pool.

You gulped down the lump in your throat as your hand stops brushing his hair to slowly fall onto his shoulder. “Or maybe better yet… In you”

Jake feels as proud as ever that he managed to deny yet another invitation from your sister and mom with the excuse that he was feeling a bit under the weather.

He was pleased that they bought it or more so your mom did while his girlfriend only glared at him but still didn’t say anything to him about it.

Truthfully all he wanted to do was stay home to relax and if that just also happens to mean keeping an eye on you and Jay. Then, he doesn’t mind his to-do list for today.

The two of you were supposed to stay in the pool, just like how you promised your dad before he left for work and your mom before she left with your sister for shopping.

It was an empty promise clearly—just to show some warning that there is some type of stability in this home. Jake always hates to be the bearer of bad news but he's going to have to relay the message that their house is built on broken grounds.

What a shame.

He walked away just for a second to change into his swimming trunks—tired of seeing you and Jay so lonely in the pool. The two of you disappeared with no trace of where you went.

Hastily he throws on the closest baggy shirt he can find and rushes out his girlfriend’s room. He tries to shake the thoughts from his mind but it does not do justice when all he can think about is how he's doing this to look out for you.

Jay is up to no good-he can see it. That settled an unconscious fear that he couldn't explain when he thought about the two of you alone.

Right when he was about to yell out your name, he passed by your slighted jarred door and sighs in relief. A bright smile comes back to his face and redirects his pattering feet over to your room.

There were many things that managed to make Jake feel sick to his stomach like realizing he missed an entire paper or seeing how his grade dropped by 10 points because of a false 0 on his 100 percent project. Or even worse when news spread that Heeseung and his darling girlfriend broke up.

But none of those top his list now and never will again.

Jay sits at the edge of your bed, head knocked back as low groans leave his mouth. You on your knees, nestled right in between his opened legs—his cock lodged down your throat as you cupped whatever couldn’t fit.

The sound of the creaking door snapped you and Jay’s attention over to Jake covering his eyes and slamming the door shut with a weak apology “Woah sorry” following.

Those simple two words drenched you in fear like a bucket of cold water. Jay cursed under his breath and hastily shoved himself back into his pants, slightly hissing at the restraint for his hard-on but picked up on your horrified expression more.

He grabs under your arms to help you up, “Do you think he’s going to say something?”

You stand on wobbly legs that if it weren’t for Jay holding you up, you would’ve crumbled to the ground. You gulped down, the aftertaste of a salty mixture made you cringe when a fear fills you.

“I really hope not”

⊹ ࣪ ˖

Ever since Jake walked in on you and Jay whenever you tried to talk to him to at least clear the air, he would turn the other way and act like you didn’t even exist.

Ironic on his end when he was acting like you were the center of his world.

Somehow your parents decide it was the perfect time to have a family dinner. No one was invited unless they were partners. Meaning Jake was invited and Jay was left behind.

“Fuck I have to face him alone” You grumbled under your breath as you were finishing up the final touches of your makeup before slamming down your lipgloss in annoyance

“Hey” You freeze at the sound of an accented voice that felt like you hadn’t heard in years

You turn to see Jake bringing down his hand from knocking as he pushed your door open to peek his head in before his body followed through.

“Jake?” You called out and he closes the door behind him but left it cracked open

“I just wanted to check in on you” He hums, walking over to your vanity where you are

His attention linger at the edge of your bed that was cleared of any wrinkle from anyone sitting there. The corners of lips pulled down and he lightly shook his head when he leaned against the vanity with his palm over the very gloss you just put on.

“For what?”

“Thought you might’ve gotten hurt with how you were trying to suck Jay off”

Your face drops in mortification when the words leave his mouth. You looked up at him through the mirror and saw the toothy grin.

“Jay said I was doing good” Unsure of why that was your first instinct to say but it was too late before you could catch yourself

Jake laughs, a hard one that erupts from the pits of his stomach that left him clutching his abdomen, “Oh sweetheart he was lying to you. That shit looked like it hurt”

The corners of your lips tugged down trying to hide the burn of your cheeks and Jake felt his heart explode in his chest, “Aww don’t pou-“

“For whatever reason it concerns you, I’ve never done it before so I wouldn’t know”

There was a silence that made your gaze turn away from the male beside you and down to the clutter on the vanity. The way you casually start to nitpick stuff back into their respective spot, Jake tries to hang on the little dignity and sanity he has left so he doesn’t say anything.

However, his mouth has a mind of its own. He tilts his head and bends his knees down to level with your head when he brushes against the shell of your ear.

The sudden warmth made goosebumps gaze at your skin as he saw the small bumps littering your skin making him lightly chuckle that had your stomach flipping.

“I guess this is just another thing I have to teach you” A sultry in his tone that matched him, “But don’t worry I’m pretty good at teaching this too”

“What? No! We can’t do this and you know that”

“Are you telling me that or yourself?”

When the looming presence disappeared, you became hyper-aware of the ruffling sounds of sheets behind and a belt unbuckling rippling around your silent room.

Slowly peering over your shoulder, Jake sits at the edge of your bed, legs spread open, his black slack unbutton and buckle of his belt undone as he leans back on his arms.

“C’mon it’s nothing bad. We aren’t doing anything that’s wrong” He peers his head to the side with a jut of his bottom plush lip, “I just want to help you”

“Plus don’t you want to please your little boyfriend properly?”

“He’s not my boyfriend and you know his name” Jake hangs his head in a sigh before shifting his position and you can see him aiming back for his belt as he buckles it back on again

“Yeah yeah Jay and whatnot” The rolls of his eyes made your stomach twist in unease

Watching him fix his clothes, the black slack pants and black button up opened just enough to see the silver chain against his chest.

He adjusts his sleeves up to his forearm after dropping to low, multiple distinct veins popped from under his skin and sleek slender fingers that had prominent veins of their own.

Sighing heavily and brings himself to properly sit up, pushing himself just an inch before you’re hastily standing up and walking over to him.

He instantly plops himself back down when you’re standing right in front of him. Such unwavering eyes and confidence that was crumbling right before him.

“Yes?”

His tone was obviously teasing, he fluttered his eyelashes against his cheeks that made an instant panic rise in you. Your lips pull downwards but licking away at your sticky lips when you catch sight of the dent in Jake’s pants.

You didn’t trust yourself to speak nonsensical words so instead you sink down to your shins and Jake smirks wildly at the sight of you on your knees for him.

“You got a bit of droll there baby” He cups your jaw and wipes the corners of your lips

“Don’t call me baby” Jake coos at the sternness in your voice, “This is just like how you said. This isn’t bad”

“We are just trying to help me out for the future”

“Keep telling yourself that babe” He laughs when he leans forward and tilts your chin up

A craze glare shimmered in his eyes that lit up like he held the stars in them. Jake doesn’t give you a chance to respond when his thumb slipped past your lips and straight down your throat.

Gagging instantly when he pressed down on your tongue and opened the warm canal, he squinted his eyes and moved your head around to examine the inside of the pink gummy muscle.

Your throat tries to push the foreign flesh out, not used to being exposed like this.

While for Jake, the contraction around his thumb wasn’t enough, “You have a really good gag reflex” He clicks in his tongue and you could feel his annoyance

He pulls back his thumb with a connected strip of saliva from your esophagus to the shiny thumb. He looks in amusement at it before shaking his hand.

You pant heavily and swallow down the wetness in your mouth that seems to keep coming back. You look up to see the disappointment in his eyes.

“I-Is that not good?” Your hands balled on top of your lap in worry

“It’s fucking terrible” He tsked and it made your heart drop to the pit of your stomach, it must’ve been noticeable on your face because Jake creases your head softly, “It’s okay though, this is an easy fix”

“H-how?” A helpless plea that made Jake lightheaded

He taps your lips with his index finger to open, you follow through, not like how others would have. He doesn’t even give you a chance to fully open your mouth before he is shoving two fingers to the back of your throat.

The sounds of your gags fill his ears and it was the most beautiful melody he’s ever heard, “Sorry what was that? I couldn’t hear you”

Your throat shrinks when he twiddles around your mouth in exploration, seeing where really had you gagging more than others.

The slides of his fingers made you screw your eyes shut tight while your hand weakly wrapped around his wrist to try and push him away.

“Don’t fucking pull away from me” Jake grits and rogughly places his palm on the back of your head and flushes you to his knuckles making you wail louder than intended

“You’re going to have to be quiet unless you want someone to hear what we’re doing. Then you’ll be screwed trying to explain yourself”

You clawed at his wrist making him suck in a breath and hiss as your nails drag down to the back of his hand leaving a redding line in its wake matching the natural blush on his knuckles.

He pried your mouth open when he scissors the motion for more space. Seeps of drool spill from the corners down his hand when your mouth opens and closes around his digits, you were rapidly patting his forehead to gain his attention but he only kept you in place.

“This is lesson 1, don’t want to fail right?” He chuckles when you stop fighting and hold onto his forearm instead for support, “Good girl”

Jake sees the shimmer on his hand and he wasn’t sure if it was from the gloss you applied or the saliva spilling and yet, his chest swells as he lingered his gaze all over your face.

Screwing your eyes shut, mascara smudging in the corner with specks of wetness seeping down your cheek.

Your hand grip him like a life support with the sounds of your gags and loud slurps louder as he rests the two fingers to the back of your throat.

It tries to restrict him from moving further but a stronger will drives him to pull your head back as he sits further on the edge of your bed. At the new angle, he adds a third finger into the mix.

“Ah-Ah, now we don’t want to go doing that now” Your mouth closed around his fingers to speak and Jake giggled at the failed attempt, “An important key point that you should definitely know by now is to never talk with your mouth full”

“Guess you forget your manners in moments of pleasure” A sinister smile formed on his face that made your think, what the fuck is he smiling about

However the thought is wiped away when he tickles the flesh inside of your throat making your head jerk and he shakes his head displeased at the reflex you had, “Oh baby. You were doing so good for me”

Such a soothing tone left your thighs squishing together, shifting in place to soothe the ache that rushed under your skin down to your throbbing self.

He smirks at the sight of your eyes blinking uncoordinately, the streaks of tears fell back thanks to him and how your body uncomfortably switches.

But it’s the view of your legs squishing tighter that jumps his heart into his throat.

He yanks his hand out without a word and drops your head. Without the support, it hangs between your shoulders as ragged breaths wheezed from your mouth.

You’re coughing and rubbing the skin over your throat, swallowing down every second to soothe the soreness.

“What was the third one for?” Your voice hoarse that you almost didn’t recognize yourself

“Preparing you for your exam” Jake laughs leaving you more confused, “Of course we need to see if you actually learned anything or if you were just fucking around”

“What exam? What are you-” Your words die on your tongue when Jake rises from your bed to loom over your sitting position, eyes dimming but his smile dark

The reopened buckle hangs in front of your face and as you wait, Jake shakes his head, “You’re on your own for this this”

“I won’t help you unless you beg for it” You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand to grimace at the ruined lip combo spread across your hand, “Don’t fail me on this one, I have some hope for you”

You look up through eyelashes to see Jake eyeing the smudge lipgloss on the back of your hand. He smirks before sitting back down on the edge of your bed, arms extended behind, “Timer starts now”

Cheeks burned in embarrassment that this was what everything had succumbed to. Having to graze against his slacks, the smooth material under your hand clearly shows a poor decision, therefore, you should stop here and kick him out of your room.

Instead, you fiddle more with Jake’s belt. Fingers tracing over the popping boner. Jake groans when you faintly touch him and he senses your hesitation when your hands retract to your chest in worry.

“Keep going” His reassurance fills your heart but doesn’t stop it from his unrhythmic pace

Reaching up his fly that feels heavier than anything you have ever held before you shakily stabilize one hand on his thigh while the other pulls down on it.

“Don’t worry you’re not going to hurt me” He encourages you but when he lifts his head and rests it on his shoulder, his cheek getting squished in the process dazingly a smile, “Can’t say the same for you though”

At the end of his zipper, the slacks opening fall even further apart to catch the common white Calvin Klein boxers—a color that contrasts his all black attire.

“What do you mean?” You fall back on your calves and Jake takes the time to appreciate the innocence in your eyes, how you look like you despised him but also ogle at like a forbidden fruit

He presses a finger to his lips to quiet you down and while you hated his efforts, you focused back on the bulge popping through the opening of his pants.

“Jake I asked you something” The sudden confidence in your tone made him snap his attention back to you that made you squirm under his glare

“And what did I tell you? I’ll only help you if you beg for it”

“So if I were you, start picking up the pace or start rubbing your hands together and spewing whatever helpless plea from that pretty mouth of yours”

“You think I’m pretty?” You flutter your lashes trying to cover your shyness with pride but Jake saw right through the facade

He reaches a hand out and strokes your head while the other free hand pushes off the bed and rubs your arm.

It felt loving, the warmth tracked through your entire body the moment his calloused hands touched you.

“I think you’re the prettiest girl ever” Jake grips your nape and dragged your head closer to his clothed crotch in a split second making you yelp, “But you’ll be the most beautiful person ever with your mouth full”

Your mouth falls open but closes and he cackles when nothing comes out of it.

“You think I’m pretty” Your question now a statement as you look up at him to catch him already looking at you, he let out a chuckle of amusement before shaking his head

“Oh foolish you are” There felt to be more to his words than what he let on, “Careful there, you’re drooling again sweetheart”

“Let me get it for you” Jake trails up your arms leaving goosebumps in its wake and circles your jaw before wiping away at the corner of your mouth

Yet, you gargle a sound when his finger starts pushing back into its old spot in the warm wet embrace of your mouth.

No restraint anymore as you accept it without much thought.

“Here’s a hint for you, no teeth whatsoever” He lifts your head up just enough where you level with his abdomen, your eye looked up at him with a silent plea

“I would never” Your speech slurred thanks to his thumb and he shakes his head with a disapproval sigh

“Already one point deducted. You know not to talk during an exam” He dragged your jaw further down and replacing the two slender flesh was much thicker and saltier

You flicker your gaze down to the veiny shaft being pushed into your mouth without fail.

Jake is breathing heavily as he pushes inch by inch, the warm confinement welcomes him that a pride fills his chest..

Pressing down on his thighs to stop his hips from bucking the entire length for you to scarf down, you pull your head back from what was in your mouth in a loud gasp.

You were in a trance when you saw what was just shoved into your mouth. Jake could tell by the way your eyes clouded and your mouth twitched.

“What’s wrong?” He faked care that didn’t last long when you continued to stare at his cock

“You’re big”

The comment fueled his ego, you didn’t mean to say it, it just came out.

“Thanks” He chuckles softly, “And I hate to break it to you but time is ticking”

The ball was in your court. You have the chance to kick him out of your room and try to act like nothing happened again.

But when you pause for a second before scooping him up in your hands, the corner of his mouth pulls up to the side.

You loll out your tongue and drag it down from the base up to the tip, Jake lets out a satisfied groan and lets his hands fall back on your bed.

You pull down further on his articles of clothing as you try to suck the side of his cock but Jake jerks at the feel of his skin being nicked.

“Teeth” He grits and you murmur a quick ‘sorry’ as if it makes up for it

So to properly make up for it, you run a tongue over where you bit down, the low hum he released made your heart gleeful as you drag the flat of your tongue over the veins that popped more than the ones on his hands.

You wondered if he was this veiny anywhere else and now you got your answer that yes he is and in the best spot too.

Circling your tongue around his slit, your hand grasped the wet cock and pumped it once before sucking the leaking tip into your mouth.

Jake’s breath went ragged when he felt the run of your tongue over him. You pull back with a plop and place soft kisses around the head while you pump what you couldn’t take in your mouth.

Jake weakly thrusts up to meet your jerk and you tightened your grasp around him to have an inconsistent pace that is clearly amateur.

“A-Ah that’s good” Jake’s voice whines as you incorporate the rapid licks over his tip with then up and down motion, “That’s good baby”

Pushing your head down slowly after one last lick, you were careful not to take in more than you can handle.

You’re trying to fix that habit before it comes back and bites you in the ass.

Using your hand to continue stroking the inches that weren’t in your mouth, you breathe through your nose like how Jay thought of you as you try to keep your teeth out of the process like how Jake told you.

You hollow your cheeks when you slowly bobbing your head up and down, twisting your hands around Jake’s cock as you tried to stop yourself from gagging so much.

It was pointless when even the smallest swallow would cause him to slip further down your throat.

Your hand pressed on his thigh to push yourself up from him but you squelched when he pressed his hand at the back of your head and further down his shaft.

You tapped on his thighs rapidly as inch by inch your mouth became more filled with Jake.

“It’s okay baby. You passed, it’s time for lesson 2” Jake groans loudly when he hilts into your throat, your nose buried to the base of his crotch, “Taking a cock like a fucking pro”

“But it seems you already have this one down” He pulls his hips back leaving your panting around his tip with heavy breaths, “Who would’ve known you would be so good at that”

“Jake” You mewl and it was sounds wetter, more pleading and far more desperate than anything he’s ever heard you, “It’s too much I-I can’t”

“But you already did. You took me so well that I can properly reward you now” You flutter your damp eyes through the hue of lighting and blurry vision and see Jake’s toothy grin

Sweat trickling down his neck and exposed forehead to his button up. He was stroking your head and you fluttered your eyes close and gulped down whatever was in your mouth to cringe slightly at the bitter taste.

Yet unable to dwell on it when you were pushed back down to his crotch.

“Just let me have this” He grunts when he pushes past your welcoming lips mouth and jerks his hips up to meet your mouth

“That’s it- An absolute sweetheart for letting me use your mouth like this”

The back of your throat constricts around the length lodged deep inside, you choke around it, spit accumulating in the corner of your lip as he thrusts into your mouth at a speeding pace

“It sucks that Jay experienced this before me” He points out through spewed whines of his, “Even worse that he was in this same spot”

“But it makes me disgusted that he couldn’t even teach you properly”

Jake’s groans grew into small whimpers the more your throat tightens around his moving shaft. Each push has your face contorting with tear drops spilling from the corners of your eyes.

His balls slapping against your chin each time his base met your nose which was every single time.

“An absolute loss on his side” Jake pushed your head down to chase after his hips until it completely stopped and your head was the only thing moving up and down his stilled hips

His tip bruised the back of your throat with no remorse. “So tight and perfect shit” The pitch of his voice jumped higher into a cry as he merely uses your throat like a personalized fleshlight and you let him

Feeling how your throat clenched with each noise sent waves of pleasure straight to his head that his groans were melting away into whimpers and whines as his abs tightened.

His hand flies to grab your neck when he switches to using only one hand to hold the back of you. He tightens his fingers around your already constricted throat making your sounds strained and heaving for any air that you could get.

The pressure around your neck makes your jaw fall further down which you didn’t think possible. Each poke of his cock protruded out of your skin to hit his hand.

You moan around his cock and he smiles crazily when he hears it in the mix of everything else.

The obscene noise of his skin hitting yours, your strained noises and the held back wails from Jake made your stomach twist

“Such a nasty girl for letting me your throat like this”

“Bet you wouldn’t even mind if I cummed down your throat would you” You tried shaking your head but it only continued going up and down his length instead, “Aww look at you nodding your head yes”

You can’t even open your eyes without tears spilling out, “Such a nice fucking thorat for me- Shit. Shit. Shit” Jake strains the chants as the lower abdomen tightens

He pulls your head off his length with a push and loud pop from how your lips sucked around him and you chase him back into your mouth.

That was until he pushes you away and makes you cup his balls as he jerks down his raging length. Your hands fiddle however Jake guided you with the push of his own fingers behind your knuckles.

Anytime that you gripped tighter than intended it would ignite a louder sound from him that made you need to hear more.

There were no words spoken anymore as all he could do was let out strained noises at the pace he set himself with your hand being too fast than you could consciously move.

Jake unrhythmically ruts his hips up to chase after your hand or morse both of your hands.

He pants heavily when he adjusts his line of shot perfectly to your fucked out face. Letting out the loudest moan rip out of you, not caring who hears him as ropes of cum shoot out as he aims it to land directly onto your face and neck.

Not stopping there, he continues your guiding hand to jerk him off past the point of regular stimulation to make sure not a single ounce was put to waste.

“Your sister is going to kill me” His breaths were uneven as he roughly shakes his head ruining the fluff of his styled hair for the dinner

He laughs when your eyes shoot open at the mention of your sister. He loudly hissed when you tightly gripped at his balls that you haven’t seemed to let go of.

You look past the extra weight on your skin and stare at Jake through making his smile grow impossibly wider as he pulls your hands off of him.

Watching how his cock springs against his stomach, white goo spilling from the tip. You lick your lips at the sight yet, he stands up without a word and pushes himself back into his slack.

Your knees aching from the position, you accept the soft stroking to your head with a gaze far too fond that makes your heart thump.

Looking up with ruined makeup and drippy eyes, Jake can’t hold back him smile, “You look so pretty”

You didn’t even get a chance to say anything when you heard the loud shout of his name from the familiar pitch of your sister.

He strains a smile and shoves his hands into his pocket before walking past you to the door.

Jake waves a hand behind his back—not even sparing a glance back at you before opening the door and stepping out and softly closing it behind him to avoid any evidence he was there.

Running a hand under your aching jaw to ease the pain, you freeze upon the contact of a thick substance.

Quickly tumbling over your numbed legs, you press yourself to the vanity to see your reflection. Once put together—ready for a family dinner now ruined.

Your makeup smudged beyond no recognition. Lip gloss smudged all over your chin and cheeks, black outlining broken with dried tear stains down your cheek all covered by white splotches.

“Are you done? We’ve been ready and we’re going to be late if you don’t hurry up” Your sister walks in with a huff of annoyance but stops at the doorway when she sees you staring in the opposite direction of her

She raises an eyebrow and knocks louder against your door for some response, “Hello! Are you there?!”

“J-Just give me 5 minutes” Your voice was hoarse and tender that it hurt to even speak anything louder than a whisper

Your face shifts as you could feel her questioning gaze burning the back of your head.

Yet, the trickling feeling sliding down your cheek to hang by your chin and fall onto your lap caught your attention way more.

Slowly inching your attention to the whitening patch on your lap, you carefully put a hand over it to cover it from your sister’s sight.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

“Coming!” You rush to throw your journal that somehow turned into your personalized diary into the bottom drawer of your desk, throwing your pen in the cabinet to be hidden from plain sight

Your written words caught your attention before it disappeared from sight.

‘A big ego for a big dick’

You sigh when the shake of your door handle rattles even more, “How many times have I told you to stop shaking the handle like that”

Even with years down the line, your sister hasn’t changed a bit.

When you yanked the door open in annoyance, you instantly tried to close it when you see who’s behind it but a flat hand stopped you.

You stumble back at the unbalance but swiftly Jake catches your back before you could fall.

“Why did you knock like my sister?” Jake kicks the door with his foot that doesn’t fully close the door in order to ensure privacy

You push at his chest and break free out of his hold leaving him to sigh as his arms rest at his side

“It was the only way to get you to open the door”

“You and I both know you wouldn’t have opened it if you knew it was me”

You averted your gaze away but Jake hooks a finger under your chin to bring it back onto him, “Why have you been avoiding me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” You pulled your head away and walk away as he trails after you

“Rigjr and you’re passing your engineering class” Jake plops himself face first onto your bed causing you to wistfully look around as if there was anyone else but the two of you, “Let’s both stop lying please”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Think you can fit me in that tight schedule of yours?” He adjusts himself to lay on his side, arm bending to rest his head on his palm after grabbing one of your childhood stuff animals and hugging it with a sly smile

”Shouldn’t you have plans with your girlfriend or something?” You snapped and Jake threw his head back in a laugh before resting his head back on his palm, “Why are you laughing Jake?”

“Oh my god, why are you so tense? It’s just me” Your shoulders hunch as if it only being him made it better for your consciousness, “She had some plan with your parents, don’t know what though”

“So why didn’t you go with them?”

“Because we have a tutoring session today”

“Absolutely not” You walk off to your door and crank it open to point out into the hallway with your finger, “Get out”

Jake stared at you with a certain glint that made you shift the weight on your feet and squish your thighs together.

When he shows no motive to move from the comforts of your bed, he digs into his pocket to pull out a note and pries it from the wrinkled state and you furrow your brows at the familiarity.

He clears his throat and sits up, crisscrossing his legs as he takes a peek up at you still standing by the doorway. He smiles and looks back down to the paper, “Dear diary I have a confession to make”

“My sister’s boyfriend is fucking hot”

“Geez I wonder who this can be out” All color drains from your face when those words fall from Jake’s lips

He held back a smile but it wasn’t contained when he laughed loudly as he continued to read off the paper, “He always keeps looking at me even when he’s clinging to my sister like a vice and it’s fucking aggregating”

Launching over to grab the paper from his grasp but he pouts as he reaches out for it. “Wait, I have a question! What does the last one say? You crossed it out and I’ve been trying to find out what it says”

“How did you- where the hell did you get this?!” You yelled that he got his hands on something like this

He throws his head back and rolls it around to crack his bones before looking at you. “If I tell you, will you tell me what the last one said?”

“No! Are you crazy?!” You crumble the paper in hand and Jake’s smile staggers before falling in a thin line

“You know that’s the thing about you” He grumbled making you narrow your eyes at him

“What about me Jake?”

“That you never think about anyone but yourself” You drop your arms to your side as you stare at him with wide eyes, “I thought your sister was selfish but you’re on a whole other level” He watched as your mouth opened and closed to form a sentence but failed in the end.

“I tutor you and what have you given me in return for taking time out of my day to help you?” He smirks as he inches himself to the corner of your bed to be closer to you, “Absolutely nothing”

The way how he tilts his head to the side in innocence made your grip crush the paper even more until your nails dig into the flesh of your palm, “Now don’t get me wrong there’s a lot you don’t know and I don’t have any problem lending a helping hand”

“It’s just that you have to work with me”

“All this tutoring isn't free. I need some type of compensation for all that I am doing for you”

“Comprensation?” You mock and shake your head while waving a finger his face as you march over to him

Jake looks up at you with his pouty lips and shining eyes, your hands twitch around the crunched paper, “In case you forgot I didn’t ask for your help. I told you I didn’t want it”

“And yet, you proceeded to leech off me and take it”

“Remember you did suck me off” You stay silent to swallow your guilt of the resurfacing memory from a couple days ago

“Tell me did it work? Did you manage to get Jay off?” The mention of the other male had you grimacing, making Jake raise his hands up in surrender, “What? I’m only asking” He laughs

“But your silence is telling me everything I need to know. You’re welcome then” Jake offers a hand but you slap it away with a gruff

He sighs heavily and runs the stinging hand to push the back the fluff of his hair, “No one is forcing you to do any of this”

“You have the free will to walk away and kick me out. Hell you can even tattletale on me to your sister”

“But you never do” His voice dropped into a slur when he pushed himself so close to the edge that you thought he was going to fall, “And you never will”

Your arms reach out to catch him in case he did fall and Jake smiles at the action. He looks up at you to see how you avert your eyes away from him as you pull your arms back like you hadn’t done anything.

“You live off the thrill. You thrive in the fact you have leverage over her” Your mouth gaped to say something to defend yourself but the only thing that came out was a strained noise, “So what will be in it for me if I continue to help you? Mhm?”

A loud squeal escaped your mouth when he grabbed your wrist and flipped you to your bed. His body hovers over you and smiles down on you when both of your arms are pinned down to your side.

He takes a moment to appreciate your sprawled body underneath him. His heart races and his pants tightened seeing your shaking eyes, “Actually I know exactly what can be my form of payment”

Jake lets go of your wrist having you quickly rest on your elbows when he starts to trail down your front. He hooks his hands under your ankles and pushes your legs up to your chest—exposing your clothed core.

“J-Jake” You stuttered, he hums softly to encourage you to continue which you do, “Ho-Hold on- Wait”

Following your line of sight towards the opened door, he chuckles digging your knees into your chest just enough to have your breast jump.

“What’s wrong baby?” He coos, running a hand up your shin that had you shuddering, “It’s just the two of us”

“Please don’t call me baby” Your elbows grow weak that your body sprawled back on the mattress

Right when he was going to respond, he stopped at the sight of you wiggling to push your hips out more to meet his face. He breathlessly laughs and drops his head in a shake, “Alright fine. If that’s what you want”

He rubs his calloused hand over your thighs and each shiver fueled him even more. Left to admire how you were exposed to him with no resistance whatsoever.

Yet, he doesn’t do anything beyond that causing a whine to leave past your mouth. ”Jake” You drag the last letter of his name in impatience, “Please!” You said louder than you wanted but your frustration can be heard in the tone better

He laughs and pats the side of your hip and traces his finger over your skin with a shake of his head, “What are you pleading for sweetheart?”

“Anything- Just do something”

“Aww c’mon I need better words than what” He teases knowing you would only grow even more frustrated, “I want to hear it from you”

“J-Jake just fuck me”

Jake hisses from the abrupt confession, “Did anyone ever tell you to have such a way with words?” He sucks his teeth and shakes his head, “That isn’t specific enough though, what exactly-”

You cut him off with a frustrated yell, “Stick your fingers in me, use your mouth. I don’t care, just fucking do something”

Expecting some reaction you let out a shaky exhale but you quickly suck in a breath when Jake grips the waistband of your pants and dragged them down your bent legs and threw them somewhere to be forgotten about.

“Shit you’re so fucking wet” He comments at the sight of the wet patches making your cheeks burn, “You’re soaking right through your panties”

Pulling his face to your enticing entrance, he lays a flat tongue over your panties making you squeal. He instantly groans the faint taste on his tastebuds. It was dizzying how you filled his mouth through the thin fabric.

He centered and sucked at your folds that made you jerk your hips when a weak moan left your mouth.

His nails dig into the flesh of your back thighs while lathering his mouth over the outline of your pussy. A groan ignited from his mouth when your hand found the back of his head and tangled his hair between your fingers.

Rutting into his face, his tongue protruding the tight hole that he whimpers at the retraction it gave him when he pushed too far.

The wetness lathers over his face from your soaked panties and drenches his lower half. He harshly pulls at the elastic of the band molding the shape of your cunt making you scream to pull away when it digs between the slit of your folds.

Jake pushes his hips against your bedding and the moan vibrating against your core makes you jolt, tugging harder on his hair for support.

He slurps louder when lines of arousal leaked out of you. Nicking your clit repeatedly as he presses down your hip to stop your arching back—to pull away from his opened mouth kisses.

Your slicks slide down the back of his throat and stain it of a sweetness. Tilting his head over to the side, slacking his jaw open to trails from your entrance to your bundle of nerves to gather more of it down to his stomach.

“Jake” You weakly call his name, your hands pushing his hair back to help from it getting in the way of your pleasure, “More! need more of you”

The jumps of your hips to meet his face half way made him smirk and when he runs a finger between the wettest slick he’s ever seen, he adores the shaping of your pussy.

Tugging at the thinned panties to the side to be met with your glistening entrance.

“No wonder you’re drenched” He murmurs under your breath and just let a magnetic pull that dragged him to attach his mouth back to you

He hums loudly at the direct connection of flesh on flesh and you let out your loudest moan yet when you feel the drag of his wet tongue against you.

Immediately the heels of your feet trap him by pressing down on his mid back and grind your folds over his face.

The clicks of his nose hitting your clit and his tongue inching into your entrance had you seeing stars. Jake was growing dizzy, the lack of air was the least of his concern when your arousal was all he needed to live.

Lapping over your cunt like he’s been starved was an understatement. He moves his head up and down as he lifts your hips for a better angle.

“Jak- Jakey” The you call his name makes his tongue flicker all around, your arousal dripping down ruining your sheets and flying everywhere

Left to only wither under his folding hands as he focuses on circling his tongue around your clit, he pops it into the warmth of his mouth that makes you jerk.

He blabs incoherency into your cunt as you chase after this locking mouth. The tightening of your lower abdomen tensening as your body indents the mattress with your pitiful cries as you come all over his mouth.

“Jake!” You scream his name without a care in the world as you push his head down to your spasming self

“No more-S-Sensitive” You wail realizing how Jake didn’t stop his attack on your cunt

He drags the flat of his tongue to spread the excessive amount of slick everywhere. Of course not before he downs what you released from your ripping orgasm.

Words fall deaf on your ear focusing on how the muscle flickers to encourage more release from your hole. You weakly shake your head but with the ruts of your hips contradict your words.

You feel his tongue tease your entrance that made you tighten around, he slaps the side of your thigh as he forces his mouth to latch all over your slicken core.

Pushing down on the balls of your feet to chase after your post high, your body felt light. Your clit tingles when his tall nose bridge brushes against it. Your hips jerked each time he moved with an unfaltering pace.

He breathes through his nose and inhales the sweetness of your arousal. All his senses were becoming filled by you.

When he stretches the entirety of your folds by his tongue to trail up to your bundle of nerves. You wailed weakly tugging on his hair and ears—practically anything you could get yours hands on.

The sucked in of your stomach before locking into a tightening grip as your cheeks flared in embarrassment when you felt it different from the first. You shake your head to deny and stop it from happening, “W-Wait, s-stop”

Your pleas were useless against Jake’s dazed mind. He continued to unhinge his jaw for a clear shot when you came for a second time so easily with the following of a stream shooting out of you.

Jake doesn’t pull away at the release instead he runs two fingers over your folds to usher more as he slurps at your cunt, “Messy messy” You managed to pick up on his slurred words but were too jerky to respond right away

“To-too much Jake please” Your body shakes as you weakly kick his shoulder to push him away

“Aww what happened to you calling me Jakey baby” He pants over your core but lathers his soaked face back to your aching self

You weakly shake your head but the soft peppering kisses made you melt and inch closer to his face. A ringing messed your hearing but when you feel your legs finally let go to drop to the side—leaving you still spread and exposed for him, a moan ripped from your throat.

His kisses move away from your pussy to the inner of your thighs, “So pretty” He pecks and nibbles on your skin causing to jump and making him smile against you, “You’re the prettiest girl ever”

Your heart shouldn’t jump the way it did. But you smiled in your daze and gleamed brightly as your chest bloomed.

Jake saw how you lit up at his words and he ran his rough hands over. Placing a kiss on both of your knees and the rounds of your hips, he pulls your shirt up exposing your stomach to him.

He stares at the bareness of it, he gets lost on how clean it is, not a single flaw on it.

The aching of his cock restrained in his pants didn’t help but the sounds of keys slotting into the front door and the clear cut voice of his girlfriend, he inaudibly sighs and presses the longest kiss yet in the center of your stomach.

“My pretty girl”

⊹ ࣪ ˖

“How come your little fuck buddy isn’t here?” You snap your attention to your sister laying on a pool chair, sunglasses perked on her nose as the sun hits her

Your mouth twitched and almost contemplated leaving, almost.

Instead you take the seat right next to her, laying out your towel and plopping yourself down. She peeks in the corner of her eye and screeches when you snatch her sunscreen, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?

“Why so curious about him? Focus on your own boyfriend- Where even is he?”

She glared at you and you could feel it through the glasses. She snatches the sunscreen back, her nails scratching you in the process but not caring when you hissed and held your wrist forming white lines.

“Wouldn’t you like to know” She grits through her teeth and your furrow your brows in the middle, “You know ever since I showed up with him, you’ve been nothing but more of a brat”

You scoffed and nodded your head as your tongue poked the inside of your cheek, “Really? I’ve been a brat?”

“Yes! Look, I don’t care what’s happening between you and whatever you want to call what Jay is to you” You grimace harshly at her when she waved her hand in front of your face to shut you up

“But for someone of us, you know the ones that actually have a boyfriends, unlike you, are trying to get mom and dad to be aboard with him but he’s over here wasting time with you because you can’t handle a simple summer class”

“You’re acting like you need to work for their approval. News flash, you already have it no matter what you do” When you snapped she jerked back at the raise of your voice

You suck in a breath and you were going to apologize but she laughed mockingly, “Ohhhh I get it now, you‘re just jealous”

“Well it’s not my fault that I’m not like you” She shivers at the comparison of possibly being like you, “Don’t even know how we are even related”

Maybe because we both are not good people. Once your sister learns to accept them, you can actually take her seriously.

“But I am curious though, how is it knowing you’re not the favorite?”

Your hands balled into fist, an anger that only your sister can bring out of you made you feel nasty. You opened your mouth to fire back but a third voice chiming in shattered something in you.

“Woah what’s going on?” The worried accented voice, breathless from whatever the case may be, made shivers run up your spine

You look up to see Jake, sweat dripping down his forehead and neck. Oil grease and black smudges all over his sleeveless white tee and shimmering skin.

His hands were dirty with the discoloration but the bright red knuckles and joints were still visible as he moved his hair with the pull back of his head as a whole.

“Where have you been?” Your sister stands up and stomps her feet to him and grabs the bend of his arm, Jake looks away from you to his girlfriend in shock

“I-I was with your dad helping with the car” Jake stutters at the harsh tone your sister gave him like he did something wrong

“We were supposed to go out today” You picked up on the hushed words but couldn’t hear what else she said afterwards but the change in expression on Jake’s face was all you needed to know

He closes his eyes, scrunching his face as your sister rambled on about something you tuned out long ago. He sighs heavily when your sister walks inside without a glance back at him.

Your jaw clenched to screw your mouth shut but when Jake walks over to where you are, you soften your jaw and look up at him with a certain glint in your eyes of understanding.

“I’m in trouble again” He scoffs a chuckle when he sits down on your chair instead of the chair opposite of you, the one where his girlfriend sat in

Scooting an inch away from him, Jake catches it in his peripheral view. He frowns and wraps an arm around your bare waist and slides you back to plaster to his side. You yelp and put your hands to his chest when he pushes you down on the pool chair.

“Jake!” You quietly yelled his name to snap him out of it but his hair fell forward from framing his face, your breath get caught in your throat as you swallow down your words when he only stares at you, “She can come back any second- Someone will catch us”

“Then let them” He responds immediately with a hearty laugh, a hint of underlying playful tone that was almost too serious for you.

He suggest to see your face contouring into horror at the thought of being caught with him, “But if you really want, we can go somewhere a little more private”

“It wouldn't be so bad if they see us though right?” You pushed his shoulder as he spoke but he didn’t budge, “They can just call it bonding time between us”

“You’re insane” You grumbled under your breath and Jake simply smiles that made your stomach full with butterflies, he dips his head into the crevice of your neck starts to place soft kisses against your neck

You’re a goner.

“Does that mean we can move this somewhere else?” He softly asked against your skin, his tongue dragging around the unblemished skin

Your hand twitched against his shoulders, he slightly lifted his body up, just enough for you to wiggle out if you wanted to. However, when you clasped them around the points of his shoulders, he smirks and you lightly hit his upper back as his arm slipped under your body making you giggle.

You didn’t bother to change out of your swimsuit. There was a growing wet need right in between your legs and with the most convenience of Jake being there, so willing to please you whether it was actually for you or for himself—Why would you waste another second? Exactly. You wouldn’t.

And as Jake let the back of knees hit your bed, his body instinctively falling backwards in the middle as you crawl over him. He felt small under your narrowed gaze, the jut in his chest made him smile when each of your legs rested on the side of his hips. Hoisting himself up by one arm as he held your waist with the other, he looked up at you fondly.

You push back the ruffle of his hair and gleam when you see the entirety of his face. He allows his head to knock back and feel the rake of your fingers through his hair.

“I’m dirty” He chuckles but you shake your head

“No you aren’t” That was an understatement, he reeked of mechanics, poorly applied sunblock and pure sunshine. However for the last one, doesn’t he always smell that

“Lesson 3” He lifts his head to align with yours, you freeze on top of him, strong eyes staring right back at you, they slightest creased from his soft close lip smile

There was shimmering fondness in his eyes as he stared at you. He was inching closer and he softly chuckled when his lips hover right over yours. He watched how you closed your eyes shut and scrunched your face as if you were waiting for something from him.

“Expect the unexpected” When he past your face to whisper in your ear, your eyes opened and pulled away just enough to get a good look at the toothy grin spread across his face

“What if you do expect something” You meekly spoke out and he couldn’t help and giggled

He adjusted himself to lazily wrap his arms around your waist, “Never do baby”

As you settled on Jake’s lap. He was leaned up against your headboard, your door for some odd reason slightly opened when you swore you told Jake to fully close it.

He held your waist, swollen plump lips attached against your neck again.When you felt his teeth hovering over your neck pressing with pressure, you pulled his hair and he yelped when he was far from you.

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop pulling my hair” He complained but the crazed cloud in his eyes looked at you like you were the center of his world

“Because if I don’t you’ll leave me in bruises and bite marks” He sheepishly smiles before shrugging his shoulders and pouting his lip

“It’s not my fault that you would look so good with my hickies all over your body. Plus would it be so bad after all?”

“Yes, if Jay sees this-” Jake loudly groans interrupting you with a harsh roll of his eyes

“Why do you even bother to mention him around me? I don’t get it. Shouldn’t you be more concerned with, I don't know, if your sister sees them?”

Your back straightens under his hand to softly reply, “She wouldn’t know if they’re from you”

But the dark hum from him made you flutter your eyelashes cluelessly at him, “You don’t think my own girlfriend will notice her boyfriend’s marking on someone else?”

Your body became rigid completely at the thought that this was in fact not Jake’s first time. He's probably done this multiple times to the point where he-

“It’s innocence lost, don’t fret it anymore. I can see it running through that pretty head of yours” Jake faces your head from the side to face him

You felt bare—exposed to Jake. It warmed but terrified you at the same time. It could’ve been with Jay, with anyone else that you felt this with and you would be fine, maybe a little unhappy but it would do because it wouldn’t be wrong.

Instead of confronting the gnawing thought in your head, your hand palms the bottom of his chin and lifts it up as Jake grants you to do it easily. You lick your lips at the bare of his slightly dirty neck from working with your dad outside.

You hesitated but when he pressed the back of your head down to his body, you instantly pressed feathering kisses and his broad shoulder loosened under your hands and you sigh happily that the topic was forgotten.

“You get it now?” He heartily laughs and accepts the fate and knocks his head with a thud against your headboard

Your kisses switched into soft suckles against his skin. More access to the harness of soft skin that you wondered why your sister never did anything to show her possessiveness over him.

You heard the stories of her relationships on how she was always doing the most to make sure her boyfriends were marked.

“You sure were to talk about me not leaving marks on you but you want to go ahead and mark me up?” He lowly hummed but when you continued to suck on the soft skin, the corners of his lips tug down as you blatantly ignore him

Jake’s hand gently glides up from your waist to your front. You shiver feeling the callousness against your bare skin, his hands rough, the black streaks being left from his hand to your skin like a tattoo. A reminder of what is happening.

The hand wraps around your throat and pushes your head away, reluctantly you released him with a plop of his skin between your lips,

“That’s not how it’s going to go” He sternly says, making you lightly frown when he kisses the roof of his mouth with his tongue, “You’re so greedy. Always wanting to take and take but never give”

He cooed softly, his hand letting go of your throat to crease your cheek, “Remember baby, this is a two way street. If you want to leave hickies, don’t you think I should be able to leave some as well?”

“No” You quickly shut the idea down with a firmness that made him sigh in defeat, “Jake you know that-”

“Fine” He releases your cheek to fold his arms over his chest instead of resting them on your waist, “It’s whatever”

“Wait Jake, are we okay?” You softly asked realizing how dissociated he sounded, you gulped down the nerves and poke his shoulder when he looks away

Though your soft touch melts his heart, the pressure on the tip bone of his shoulder makes him turn to face you—which should’ve been the first mistake.

There was one thing he learned about you from the time he’s spent either around you and observing you, there was nothing he could do to salvage himself whenever he looked at you. ”Why wouldn’t we be baby”

“How many times do I have to tell you to not call me baby”

Your little fit about the name calling always made him smile. The initial annoyance fading away when his sleazy tease that jerks yours and his heart, “However many times until it sticks into my mind and rolls off my tongue like second nature”

You narrow your eyes when he fiddles with the ribbons of your bathing suit, “You know you look very pretty” He tilts his head up from looking over your body

There a was a burning sensation under your cheeks and you tried to hide your face by turning to the side but the grip on your chin forced you to turn and face him again, “Look the absolute prettiest when you’re flustered”

“Don’t say that”

“Why not?” He jerks his hand away making you miss the warmth of his skin on yours

“Because you don’t mean it” Your voice grew smaller each time you spoke

There were many expressions you’ve seen from Jake but none of them were half as emotional as this one. His eyes were wide in disbelief, his jaw dropped, looking at you like you were insane for even saying that.

“Don’t look at me like-“

“What do you mean that I don’t mean it? I’m pretty sure I know what comes out out of my mouth is real or not”

You sigh heavily, shuffling awkwardly on his lap, trying to pull off him but Jake digs his nails into the flesh of your hips and brings you down, this time right on top of his hard-on.

You let out a weak wanton moan at the poke inside of your thigh passing to your covered core. “Go on. Say it”

“You probably tell this to every girl you’re with. My sister wouldn’t be far from there either-“ You don’t know why you spoke your mind, it was something being picked apart by the very hands that held you

“Lesson 4” He cuts you off curtly making you quiet, “Law of assumption is a nasty one”

You snicker which was the second mistake.

“You think it’s funny baby?”

“Stop calling me-” He cut you off with an abrupt kiss that left your mind dizzy, you freeze for a second but it was dreading when you fall into a rhythm

Your nails dig into the flesh of his bare broad shoulders, he holds you tightly by your lower back and brings you closer to him. The traveling of his hand up your middle back—tracing your spinal cord in the process sent goosebumps everywhere.

You tilt your head to the side, gripping the fluff of his hair to push further into the kiss. Jake crossed your lips with his tongue before squeezing your skin and biting your bottom lip that made you squeal just enough for the wet muscle to slip into your warm mouth.

He sighs in satisfaction and nibbles on any flesh he could sink his teeth into.

“Gonna need to be quiet if you don’t want to be caught” He blabs against your mouth but he knew he couldn’t keep up with his own words, it was a paradise kissing you

Your lips felt sore and raw from how much he kept biting on them, you tried to lightly push him away due to the lack of oxygen making you feel like you would pass out from kissing him.

The way Jake’s hair slots perfectly through the cracks of your fingertips as you allow yourself to melt into his embrace. Having a cramp form from the force of craning your neck downwards couldn’t bother you more than the growing need in between your legs.

Your heart was thumping as you kept chasing after his mouth when he pulled away just a little. Adjusting yourself in his lap, the poking against your thigh had you falling apart and softly moaning into his mouth.

He swallowed down those sounds for his ears only. His hand travels over your bare back and in a fit of giggles, he smiles brightly against your lips because if there was one thing that he knew, he would leave this room having you.

Pulling away in a haste making you gasp loudly before sinking your teeth into his shoulder to keep yourself quiet. He breathlessly laughs and runs his fingers bone to bone.

“What’s wrong baby, you keep moving. Feeling uncomfortable?” The tone was falsed with care

“Jakey” You slurred your words, “Please”

“Aww what are you pleading for sweetheart?” His warm breath grazing your skin felt like fire running under his skin to burn him whole

The tips of his fingers fiddled with the hem of your swimsuit before pulling your nape up to make you look at him with begging shaking eyes. “Words now”

“Fuck me please” Your voice as small and he almost couldn’t catch it, who is he deny your helpless pleas

“You’re shameless” He grazes his lips with yours and laughs against it

You weakly shake your head to deny it but you let out a loud gasp when his hand slips from your mid back and to your stomach and trails down.

His wicked laugh contradicts your frantic breaths. “No? Oh we don’t like liars now do we baby?”

“The law of assumption is a nasty one” You repeat back his words and he let out a smirk

A feeling driving him crazy from the moment he laid his eyes on you—His girlfriend’s sweet and innocent sister.

“It is when you’re not being truthful but in our case. We aren’t”

Jake didn’t give you a chance to fight back, not when he pulled your swimsuit aside—his fingers teasing the skin just above your core.

“Lift your hips up for me” He whispers past the shell of your ear and not wasting time, you followed his words because you didn’t feel like testing him today knowing he could leave you hot and bothered and worst of all, untouched

Jake gleams seeing how you did what he asked. Instead of letting you off his lap completely, you’re stopped midway and the confusion written over your face was everything to him, “Trust me”

You shouldn’t have, that much you knew. However, putting your faith into him. You flutter your eyes closed. Thighs and knees burning from your held position yet, that pain faded away into an adrenaline when you feel his rough hand on you again.

Digging your fingers into his shoulders, feeling the broadness of them again, you tremble realizing what you had pleaded for him, your sister’s boyfriend.

He silently hissed but the death grip on your hips distracted either of you from anything else. You become rigid above Jake when you feel

him tugging the bottoms covering your core.

“Fuck how are you this wet? Does Jay even try to make you come?” Jake spat more for himself when he saw you soaking through your bottoms like you had taken a swim, “Absolute imbecile”

Your eyes almost fluttered open instead you let out a loud shriek and screwed your eyes tighter when he harshly grabbed at your thin clothed breast. The roughness dug into your flesh making you cry, “What the hel-“

“To distract you” He murmurs cutting you off before you get another chance to speak, he drags your body back down causing your jaw to fall slack

“Jake!” You squeal his name at the stretch of his tip entering you and splitting you apart

Digging your nails into his shoulder blades while Jake tightened his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet when you couldn’t stop sobbing, never being this stretched out ever before.

“S-So big- it’s too much” Your eyes finally open and through wet tears, you look down to see the bareness of his cock disappearing into you

“You’re so tight fuck” He breathlessly says, “Does he never stretch you out or what?”

Through hiccups and sniffles you weakly shake your head no the more you sink down onto his hard length. A thought of Jay crossing and disappearing as quickly as it showed up when you feel Jake twitch inside of you.

You could feel every vein, each jerk and waking pump that he had as he pushed through your walls.

“J-Ja-Ja…” You wail and Jake slams you down to fully engulf him making your scream and he throws a hand over your mouth to shut you up

“Jay ever made you feel this good? Is that why you’re calling out to

him?” You roughly shake your head, tears running down your cheeks and dangling at your chin before falling to his chest, “Then why are you saying his name like he’s the one fucking you”

You weakly slap his chest the moment he bottoms out. Your fluttering hole gaped around the length, welcoming him into the warm wet confinement that he couldn’t not ram into you.

The slickness spilling past your pussy and lathering over him all the way to the base was enough to make him slide in like it was home. Your bottom half of the bathing suit rubbed his base and your clit making each of you suck in a breath.

Your ragged breaths muffled by his hand finally fell off when you were blabbing into it and shaking your head uncontrollably as if to prove something.

“N-No he’s never” It was like fireworks going off in his heart, the gnawing disgusting feeling faded away to a mellow happiness

It was his revelation and the third and possibly the biggest mistake of the day.

“Oh he’s never fucked you?” He raised an eyebrow, the hands holding your hips pushed them up against his crotch making you strain a moan

The corner of Jake’s mouth pulls up as he watches you chase that small friction. Groaning softly when you rutted your hips harder down, balled up fist against his chest, your tears drying only to be drenched again by the new ones.

“Glad to know he won’t ever after this” He laughs when your head is thrown back, such unrhythmic movements of your hips to make you unconsciously good, “Let's break you on my cock mhm?”

“Going to fucking ruin you baby”

Jake leans against the headboard, his warm hands leaving your burning body to stretch over his head and watch you. You whine when he doesn’t help you and instead he sucks his teeth and shake his head

“You wanted to get fuck right? So do it yourself” The tone was clear and stern, no room for arguments and you didn’t want to test him today

Moving your hand from his chest to hold his shoulders with a weak wet

bounce that rippled in the room. Your body is still not accustomed to the stretch yet forcing yourself to be by the way he fills you up. It was too delicious to pull away from.

Your head hangs back as you drag yourself from him before slowing back down. Fresh tears fell from the corners of his eyes as he wiped away gently.

Jake watches how your bottom lip shivers, shaking when you repeat the motion again and again until you find a slow pace. Your moans were growing by the second that he swore someone would hear you from down the hallway.

“Thought you didn’t want to get caught” He strains through gritted teeth when you clamped down around his length and continued inconsistent movements, “Why happened to that moral compass of yours?”

You couldn’t respond, he knew that. All that slipped past your lips were weak whines and incoherent blabs ranging from ‘Help me’ and ‘So good’ and his favorite, ‘Fuck me Jakey please’

The more you clamped around him, not letting him go even more than an inch before you were back at the base. The leaking tip pressed into your gummy walls and you felt full while barely moving.

“I can’t even be mad at you” He softly creased your head, “You’re taking me so well baby, I could stay inside of you forever”

Jake chuckles when he feels your hole fluttering around him, “You like the thought of that?”

“That I fuck you so good that you’ll be full of me to the point it’ll drip out of you”

“Jakey” You whimper his name focusing on chasing the pleasure you felt when he first rammed you onto him

“Tell me what you want” His tone smooth and slurred, a warm hand carefully wrapping around the back of your neck and pulling you up to face him

“Tell me what you want” He repeats what he says but when you screw your eyes shut the grind of your hips, finally finding the spot that hit your clit made a louder moan rip out of you

The soft grip tightened instantly and it woke you up from the daze when Jake’s free hand stopped your moving hips. You peer open your eyes to see the stretched frown as he stares at you.

When you discreetly move your hips in a circle, Jake instantly stops it and taps the side of your hips, “Up babe” Simple words but more than enough for you to slowly get up on your knees and stare at him like he hung the stars

His lips twitch into a soft smile and he hooks a hand under your arms and pulls you off him. “Shit” He grunts when you wrapped perfectly around his tip until your pussy reluctantly let him go with a plop

Your mouth was wide open with uneven breaths following when you looked down and caught sight of the very cock you had in your mouth, resting heavy and hard on his tanktop. The glistening shaft with the distinctive veins trailing all around, a red angry tip leaking of precum and a base covered in your arousal alone.

“Dirty girl” He chuckles making a dust of heat cross your cheeks as you look at him through clearing eyes, you wiped your face to rid of any tears left behind

Jake softly pushes your body to the bed to hover over you. Sweat trickling down his forehead down his neck as he admires you with shining eyes but toots and disappointedly shakes his head.

It must’ve shown on your face how confused you were when he laughed. A hand reached down and pulled his shorts up, stuffing his pulsing hard-on back in the restraints of his pants and pushed himself off of your bed and straight to your door.

“Lesson 2 baby” He grins even when you catch sight of his bulging tent peeking through before he squeezed out of your room, purposefully leaving your door open

You quickly rush up on your palms and stare where he once stood. You throw a blanket over your body and cover yourself with an agape mouth when through a lust needy cloud, you recall the said lesson of expect the unexpected.

Grumbling loudly under your breath but stopped when your sister passes through and stops at your open door, “Why do you have the door open?” She stops and scrunches her face in distaste, “Ugh why do you still have your bathing suit on if you were working with dad”

Your eyebrows knit in confusion and she sighs aggravated and points towards you, “I’m talking about those black streaks all over neck, the most you could’ve done was clean it off before getting into bed”

You first put on your sheets and strain a faltering smile, trying to hide your tingling and rest of your marked body from sight. All while trying to get the feel of fullness out of your head, “Expect the unexpected I guess”

⊹ ࣪ ˖

It sounded nasty in your sister’s room. The muffled shouting and yelling heard from down the hallway. You were only going to go to the bathroom, you didn’t mean to eavesdrop.

Yet, the moment you stepped out, it was like your feet got glued to the ground and you couldn’t move from your doorway as you try to make out whatever they were arguing about.

“Jake you suck as a boyfriend do you realize that?” The said male sighs heavily and rubs his creased forehead

“Fake boyfriend” He corrects with emphasis under his breath which got drowned out by your sister’s continuous rant

“Last time I checked you promised to the be the best boyfriend ever but ever since we came here you’ve been sticking to my sister like a vice and it’s frustrating”

“What is that about huh? Do you fucking like her or what? Don’t miss me with that love bullshit”

“Don’t ask me about nonsense” Jake harshly whips his head over to your sister, “Why don’t we talk about if Heeseung actually cares about this fake ass relationship may I remind you and will crawl back to you”

“Let me remind you that she has Jay so don’t start getting ideas thinking you’re special and stupidly get attached to her” Jake balls his fist at his sides at the mention of Jay’s name again floating in the air like how it always does in this house

“I should’ve gotten someone else that would’ve actually tried to make

this plan work instead of you” Your sister yells as she opens the door hastily, “Fuck you Jake”

“Yeah don’t hold your breath” Jake scoffs loudly when your sister stomps down the hallway making him sigh heavily

Jake grabs whatever he sees in sight and chucks it across your sister’s room in anger. He lets out a frustrated yell and when he hears a soft knock at the door, he whips his head thinking it was his girlfriend.

But at the sight of you hesitantly bringing your hand back down from the door, his shoulders slouch, the aggravated face and glaring eyes softened instantly. He lets out a deep exhale and runs a hand through his hair, ruining the styled fluff of it.

“Are you okay?”

Jake doesn’t respond, instead he walks over to the edge of your sister’s bed and plops his body heavily on there before sighing heavily and running another hand through his hair, ruining it completely. The slight styled waves landed over his forehead, almost enough to cover his eyes.

He looks up at you with a slight frown and shakes his head. Extending out his hands and doing a grabby motion towards you. You try to hold back the smile by covering it up with a small cough.

Slowly walking over to him and just when you were in distance, he wraps his arms around you and brings you to him. You let out a squeak when his head pressed into your stomach.

Nestling his cheek, you freeze at the gripping embrace. A wave of fondness glosses over making you softly pet his hair before running your hands through it, much more careful and gentle than how he did earlier.

“Just need you right now” He murmurs against your shirt having you lightly giggle to conceal the thumping of your heart

You were sure he could feel it by being pressed up against you and instead of freaking out, you accept it and nod your head, “Okay… I can stay for a minute”

“No please stay longer” Jake roughly shook his head and rested his chin on you

Your gaze shifts down to see him, a soft pout stretched down on his face, big droopy eyes staring up at you and his hands rubbing any piece of you he could get his hands on.

You stop pushing back his hair, resting it just by his ear. “I really really need you” His voice was softer than anything he’s ever said before

When Jake’s hand roamed your body, moving from your back to your sides, down your hips and thighs to stop at the waistband of your pants. You close your eyes and softly push at his shoulders but he doesn’t budge and instead digs his chin harder into your ribs.

“Goodnight Jake” You sternly say but your words slowly fade out when his fingers hook under the entirety of the elastic, “No- At least not here”

Jake could only care about the fact you said at least not here. You weren’t denying him anymore.

Letting out a yelp when you were suddenly flipped to your sister’s bed. Your body jumps from the soft mattress, a loud gasp escaping your mouth when Jake is on top of you.

Instantly he attaches his mouth to your soft skin, trailing soft kisses from the point of your shoulder to the sweet spot on your neck that cracked the sweet noises he adored. Pursing his lips together and sucking harshly on the unblemished skin.

You shudder a moan, back arching slightly as he slots a knee in the middle of the legs, brushing up against your clothed pussy making you melt further into the mattress.

“Anywhere but here Jake” He sighs heavily, pulling his head away to focus his attention on you to make sure you see him shaking his head

“It’s either here or nowhere” Jake scoffs, making your heart drop to the pit of your stomach, “Why do you even care? You don’t even like her”

“That’s not the point” You gulp down the lump forming in your throat and awkwardly clear it

“Well it doesn’t matter. She treats you like crap and this is the perfect opportunity to get back at her” He hooks a finger under your chin and lifts it up to make you face him, “Wouldn’t it be good to know that you fucked your sister’s boyfriend in her own bed”

“You know how much she loves this shit like it’s her palace”

You grip his shoulders, frantic eyes looking away because you knew he was right. And he knew you knew he was.

He smirks and presses rough kisses against your neck and you hit his back but not to hurt him but just enough to make him grin harder against your skin.

"Fuck you Jake" He chuckles at the venom seeping through your words

He breaks away from your neck, feathering kisses trailing up the line until he outlines the shell of your ear. His hot breath made your legs clench around his knee and you whimpered when he grips your hips tightly, "You already have"

When he pulls away and you turn to face him, he smiles and leans in. He captures your lips in a feverish way, teeth clanking together, his tongue lathering itself all around your plush flesh. He was kissing you like a starved man who has been denied his only need for decades.

For a second you freeze and screw your eyes shut, your nails graze his back until you tilt your head and melt into the kiss. He smiles happily that you’re reciprocating the kiss again.

The fitted black shirt did nothing for your imagination as you dragged down his shirt when he pressed his lips deeper on yours.

You whimper in the kiss, trails of red left behind in your wake through his shirt. Jake shakingly cups your jaw as he slides across your bottom lip—begging for entrance.

The slight opening was more than enough to have him sliding past and exploring your mouth. He groaned softly when you clawed at his skin.

Jake wasn’t someone spontaneous, taking pride in always being somewhat calculated. Yet, he always had to expect the unexpected when it comes to you. Especially now when it dawns over him that it’s addictive kissing you.

His cold hand fiddles with the hem of your shirt before slipping it under against the harness of your skin. Moaning softly into the needy kiss, you feel the hand roaming—memorizing every dip and curve you had to offer.

The higher he trailed up the more your breath hitched until it got stuck in your chest and a loud gasp escaped your mouth when he roughly cups at your breast.

His fingers instantly run over the hardening bud and twisting it making you wail just enough for Jake sticks his tongue further down your throat from the perfect opportunity.

You silently gagged around the intrusion while he gargled a laugh at your struggle. Hastily pulling back with a heavy breath from you, you’re panting trying to make up for the lost air.

“You have to be quiet” Jake knows he wouldn’t stay true to his words but he just loves to see the twitches on your face to hide your worry

“Jake” You swallow down each breath, “Hold on”

Your pleas fall deaf on his ears the moment he reattaches himself back to your lips. Pecking the swollen plush repeatedly to cut off any words or thoughts daring to come from you.

“That’s right baby. Just let me do everything. Let me take care of you” Instead of trying anymore, you fall into it and kiss back with less of a need to keep you both connected

He squeezed around your breast, nails digging into your flesh making you cry. Pinching on your hardened bud to irritate it made you jolt in your sister’s mattress more.

“Stop teasing” You grit through your teeth even though you were loving every second of it, “Do something”

“So impatient” He lowly slurs before running his hand over both of your breast, “Guess the apple never does fall too far from the tree”

“I know you can take me, no point in wasting time” Your head pushes back into the bedding when he fondles them with a harsh touch, not caring if he was gentle or not

A roaming hand travels down past your stomach to play with your waist band before hooking under it and tugging down both your garments in one trip. “What a nasty girl” He laughs when he noticed you helping him out

He shifts his potions to stand, hands letting go of your body to bring attention to the edges of your pants. He trugs softly at them until they slip past your hips and removes them in one go.

Your legs tried to squish together before he could catch a glimpse of your glistening entrance but he sprawled his palms on your knees and spread them to the bed to expose you to him.

Your hands fist the sheet and screw your eyes shut when he softly cooed, “Aww is this all for me?”

When you don't respond, he frowns and runs a finger over your slit making a wanton moan rip out of you. “I asked you something baby”

“Yes! It’s for you! All for you Jakey” The words rushed out in a single breath

He plunges his finger in one swift motion that makes you frantically gasp. “That’s good” He chuckles, “Glad to know you wouldn’t be like this for anyone else that isn’t me”

Stretching out your hole little by little in a scissoring motion had you withering in the sheets. Jake hooked his free arm under your leg to keep you from moving and slacked his jaw open to attach to your dripping core.

“J-Jake!” You squeal, tugging softly on the fluff of his ruined hair as Jake sucked and sucked all arousal that spilled out

His fingers worked simultaneously to pump in and out of you while he tongue flickered over your folds, lathering your arousal with his saliva.

He groans when you harshly tug his head closer to you, grinding your hips to his face as weak moans fall from your mouth. It managed to shake all the way up to your head and instantly take over your rationality.

Jake continued to lap at your pussy like it was the sweetest treat ever. A lovely essence that he can’t grow sick of when his fingers curl, your body curls too.

“So fucking sweet, I love how you taste baby” He blabs against your entrance leaving you shivering with each wet kiss he plants

You couldn’t respond when his tongue teased your filled hold and you jerked to move away from the extra intrusion. Jake was quicker than you anticipated and held your place.

“Nu uh none of that. You’re going to take it for me” He lifts his head with a heavy pant and you see the string of saliva connecting him from your pussy to his mouth

You swallow down your words when he grins and licks his lips, breaking the string. He hummed blissfully at the taste, eyes fluttering close in pleasure before forcing himself back down for more.

“Be good for me alright?” He doesn’t give any warning when he drags his two fingers out, only leaving his fingers buried in your hole

He stays like for a moment before pushing in three fingers knuckle deep without a care how you clench around him. “Need to fill you up right” His dark laugh that has you insides twisting, “I couldn’t ignore how you suck me in”

“Want to see how much you can take before you’re coming without any stop” You strain a mewl and attempt to grab his wrist in response to his words making him lightly chuckle

The drag of his fingers were rough and deep, three fingers squished in your gaped hole, squeezing around him perfectly that left his mind dizzy and needing more.

Repeating the motion again and again of dragging his fingers out before sliding them back in. The squelching out your arousal and quiet moans left you both in a daze, “You need to be more quiet there”

“You don’t want to get caught right?” He whispered just enough for you to hear but when you clench around his fingers, he crocks a brow upwards, “Or maybe I stand corrected”

“You want to be seen like this don’t you?” He laughs almost manically, a warm breath fanning over your core that ran a shiver up your spine

You weakly shake your head but the loudest moan ripped out of you when he attached his mouth directly to the swollen bud. Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he curls and opens you up more.

Every flick followed by suck on your clit and pump of his fingers knuckles deep into you had you shaking, back arching off your sister’s bed just for him.

No longer trying to pull away from him, you wrap your legs around his head to latch his moving mouth to your pussy.

“There’s my dirty babe” He mumbles against your slicken core, he knew you were close to edge, it was obvious with the way you kept pulse around his digits to keep him buried in you

“Right there- Jakey” Your voice was pitched and strained when a gush rushed out of you that managed to push him out of your gaped hole

You were gasping loudly when he attached his lips back to your pussy with such need. He rubbed his face harshly against you, his fingers rubbing over your folds to usher more of your release on his tongue.

He slurped whatever release came out of you, not wanting anything to go to waste. “Keep it coming baby” He screws his eyes shut feeling your fluttering hole around his intruding tongue, “Give it it to me”

You wailed to the muffled words, your body shaking trying to pull away from his ruthlessly kisses. The sensitivity grows too much for you to handle but Jake toothily grins when you take his fingers back into you. You weakly try to push him away but fail when he pressed his body onto your lower body.

He pushes in and out, every squelch bounced off your sister’s walls. “You’re making a mess sweetheart” He taunts even though he presses a free hand down your lower abdomen

Your legs weakly push his shoulders but with fail, Jake didn’t move an inch. He only continued to lap at your pussy, blatantly ignoring the ache in his jaw.

“Can’t take anymore Jakey please” You shake your head but the pressure on your stomach digs deeper as Jake ushers his fingers up and down your core

To your horror, flings of your arousal landing everywhere on his hands, arms, face and the bed underneath you. “Yes you can” He breathlessly pants as he rubs his palm over you

You’re a moaning mess by the time he feels your clenching around him again. Rutting down his hand harder and faster, his palm rubbing your clit continuously, his fingers curling up to your gummy walls and scratching them to leave his mark on you.

Your lower stomach flexed as you came over his fingers and mouth for the second time tonight. Shots of your arousal came out of you and over his fingers but his pace didn’t stop.

“Jake” You tried to crawl away from him but you were rooted into place, tongue lolled out to swallow everything that you were offering him

“There’s my girl. So beautiful. So perfect for me” He encourages more of your release to land on his tastebuds, his head was dizzy unsure if it was from the lack of oxygen or your sweet venom

Either way, this was the paradise he would rather get ripped apart for before willingly giving you up.

Jake presses soft kisses and carefully pulls away completely. Your mind was reeling to come down from the pleasure you had never felt before. Your ragged breaths mixed with his heavy pants.

“You okay baby?” He strokes the side of your face softly and you nestle into it for a form of comfort. You look up at him with rimmed eyes to see his pupils blown out all to stare at you like the center of his universe

A toothy lopsided grin made your heart flutter that you swore Jake would be able to hear from where he stood in front of you. Swallowing down the lump in your throat, your fisted hand loosened around the sheets and you stare at him with wet eyes.

“Fuck me”

Jake physically jerks at your words but the toothy grin is replaced with a smug smirk. He leans over your body, hands hiking up your shirt as he lets out a deep chuckle that makes your insides tingle. “Say it again. I need to hear you say it again”

“Fuck. Me. Jake” You emphasis every word sending him down a rabbit hole he didn’t want to escape from

“Such nasty words” He lowly hums while fumbling his belt as he makes his way towards you, a gaze that clouded his eyes darkly, “Think you can stay quiet?”

“Who cares” You stared at him at the foot of the bed, a prominent bulge daring to burst at any moment

“You do” Jake’s quick rebuttal made you quiet making him giggle at your stare, “Don’t look at me like that. You’re the one with the need to stay a precious innocent angel”

He doesn’t struggle freeing himself from his raging hard-on. Your eyes widened at the angry red tip shining with precum slapping against his abdomen. Regardless of seeing it already, you swallow watching how it twitches at the freedom.

Jake laughs watching your slacked face and chuckles with a blooming across his chest. “Why so serious?”

“You know you can take me, no need to be scared” He runs a rough hand up and down your side until he rests his hand just above your heart, “Relax for me baby”

Your breath comes out in intervals, so uneasy that your chest rises and drops unnaturally. There was thumping against your chest that Jake for sure knew about now. Never in your life did you think you would ever be in this position. Well now you were and there was no turning back.

“Good girl” A single finger trails down your chest, circling your covered nipple and slipping down, “You never disappoint. Your sister doesn’t even give me this”

The mention of his girlfriend, your own sister, made a sense of dread fill your stomach. A reminder that Jake isn’t actually yours even when it felt like he was from the moment he walked through the front door.

You screw your eyes shut because if it was out of sight then it would be out of mind. You focused hard enough you can smell her signature perfume lingering in the air, forcing you to claw at Jake’s shoulder.

He hisses loudly and grips your hips while pressing down on your body with his own. “You have some nasty secrets but it’s okay because I have them too”

“Let me put these dirty secrets on you” You crack open your eyes for a second to catch a glimpse of his sparkling eyes

Jake was gorgeous, generally perfect for you. The only downside, he was dating your sister.

Or at least that was what they made you and everyone else believe.

He aligns the tip of cock to your entrance, he slides his length to lather your arousal over him before carefully pushing in just past the tightness. You loudly gasp, knocking your head back at the slow stretch growing the more you sink down his cock.

“Fuck” You breathlessly said, inhaling sharply where the faint notes of his cologne filled your noise, the smell of your sister’s scent of her room fading out of your mind

It takes everything in Jake's power to not bottom out like how he did before but it was difficult when the delicious wet confinement welcomed and accustomed to him.

“S-Shit you take me so good” He drops his head into the crook of your shoulder and neck, “You’re always so good”

Jake didn’t move from where he stopped pushing in. The both of you peered down to see him disappearing into you. A clear amount of inches left to be sucked in.

Your ragged breaths follow his heavy pants and without warning or struggle, Jake snaps his hips forwards making your body jolt and the bed creak under his movements.

“Jake!” You shout his name but he slaps a hand over your mouth with a warning glare

“Shhh keep it quiet for me sweetheart” He smiles but now that he was bottomed out in you without struggle, only feeling how you try to get used to his length, “You can do that for me right?”

“Yes” Hearing how your voice cracks fills his chest with pride and he softly nicks your skin with his grazing teeth, “Jakey” You moan his name like it’s the only thing you have ever known

“That’s right say my fucking name” He groans as he drags his cock our before roughtly pushing back in

Your sister’s bed creaks under his first thrust and only continues when he drags his hips already too deep in his sense of the way you wrap around him. Each thrust left you empty for a moment before you were instantly filled up again.

His tip pressed into your gummy walls in ways you didn’t know possible. Each push and pull he gave you was each press into your g-spot.

You shake your head when he repeatedly hits the same spot once he realizes that was what let your loudest moans rip out.

“You say goodnight yet your pussy keeps me buried in you. Which one is it? Cmon baby where are you now?” Jake says as he picks up his pace into a ruthless manner

The creaking of your sister’s bed worsened, your moans and his grunts mixing as one as you wrap your arms over his body for leverage. There were no thoughts in your mind besides the fulfillment Jake was giving you.

“I don’t even fuck my girlfriend like this” He huffs like it was something to be proud, “There’s no way she would take me as good as you do”

“You’re better than her- Far much better”

You were relishing the backhanded praises. It made your heart drop with each compliment but there was a hidden happiness that filled you with it. Your skin crawls at the revelation but you’re far too gone to care anymore.

“He don’t fuck you like this does he?” Jake snorts in the shell of your ear, you knew who was he was referring to but when you opened your mouth to respond, he slammed his hip upwards in a bruising pace

Your reply to him was nothing but whines and breathlessly gasps. Jake felt you clamping around him causing him to darkly chuckle but never letting his fast pace let up, “Tell me he doesn’t fuck you this good”

“Jake slow down please” You wail with nails scratching down his broad back, it pierces through his shirt that he could feel the burn forming where you claw at him

“No” He growls, pressing down on your hips to continue slamming into you, “Take it for me. Say this is only for me”

Jake was losing sense of reality with the way you grip around him, this was all he ever needed. “Say it”

“For you Jakey” You sink your nails into his shoulder blades, “For you”

Jake couldn’t help but proudly smile. His heart thumping against his chest that he swore it would burst out any second. “So good- It’s all just for you”

Harsher thrust was his response, you could tell it fueled his desire when every thrust left you empty and slammed full in a matter of seconds. Your broken wails were muffled by the rush of his mouth meeting yours.

You gargled a noise but he swallowed it into his mouth as he messily dragged his tongue all over your lips. “Let them fucking hear how beautiful you sound for me”

Dragging your hand up to the back of his hair and pulling on it as your legs hook around his waist to keep him buried in you. “I’m going to breed your pussy baby that you’ll be so full of me”

“How does that sound? mhm?” He pops your bottom lip through his teeth, “You’ll like that? Be so full of me that you can’t even hold it and it’ll just have to slide down your thigh the moment you stand up”

“Yes! Yes!” You chant, your walls memorizing the drags of his cock, feeling the veins that traced all around it and mold it into your gummy velvet walls, “Yes please Jakey”

His thrust was growing erratic, unrhythmic if they were even that in the first place. Jake’s tip was ripping and bruising your insides with each movement he did, he couldn’t help himself any longer.

“Come for me baby” He grunts lowly just enough for you to hear the more you clamped around him

Each pulse around his moving shaft was daring enough to bring him closer to his orgasm. “Can I come inside- Let me come inside you” He whines as his hips were chasing after your confinement, "Please please”

Tightening your legs around him, your fingers aching by the way you kept gripping him and when your arms flail around his body to hold him close as you let out your loudest moan yet as you came all over his cock.

The wet squelch worsened by your release glistening his shaft and while you entered a state of bliss, Jake continued to chase after his own despite the sudden limitation for his range of motion. However, the new profound tightness was a blessing in disguise.

He lets out uneven breaths in a shudder when his thrust continues their awkward pace as he paints your velvet walls white of him. “So good shit- Too good for me”

“I love you. I love you” His words cleared your muffled ears, your eyes jump wide open as your mind short circuits from the three words said so easily

Your heart is hammering against both of your chest as he pushes his cum deeper into you, you claw harder down his back when he doesn’t still his thrust.

Moans bounce off the room’s walls until Jake finally comes to a complete stop. His cock lodged deep into you, his chest fell up and down after each breath, his eyes trained on how the rim of your pussy and his base gleamed white.

You felt the endless twitches inside the gummy walls however it disappeared making you whine at the sudden emptiness. Jake pulls his hardened cock out of you to hang right over your stomach.

Jake seems to have many mistakes but this was his biggest one when he looks up at you and catches the afterglow you were shimmering in. Your mouth slacked open, fresh tears he didn’t even notice streaking down your cheeks, and his marks littering your skin from your neck for everyone to see down to your rising chest only for him to see.

His eyes trails down to see the glops of his cum seeping out and onto your sister’s bed. His heart stops for a second before it jumps into his throat that he tried to swallow away.

“Jakey” Your voice hoarse and weak and it rips his attention away from the sight to focus on your fucked out expression

The way you looked up at him with pleading confused eyes, a harsh swallow to clear your throat twisted his chest and his body moved on its own. You whine when your body is flipped on the opposite side, your head turning to the side and pressed into your sister’s pillow and one of your legs is hiked up to the side.

He pushes your head down to the soft slick pillow and pushes his cock past into your aching pussy.

You flail your legs under him, hands fisting the sheets again until your knuckle turns white and your mouth slipping out moans to be drowned in your sister’s bed.

Droll slipped past the corner of your mouth, pooling onto the pillow when Jake grips the side of your hips and pulls it harshly to the side to watch how you swallow him in.

You grip the edge of the bed and moan loudly with each thrust that sends your body jolting further into the mattress. Your clit rubbing in the shit mixed with him filling you up, “Jake- Fuck slow down” You try to say but he only groans to avoid responding to your fake plea

“Take it sweetheart. Be a good girl for me and fucking take it” He thrust harder up, watching the recoil where you and him met

He pressed down on your knee to keep it leveled higher than your hip. The position had your eyes rolling to the back of your head while Jake was lost in the trance of his cum leaking down to the bed.

This time feeling the tears dimming your eyes and falling down your cheeks as you couldn’t contain your moans any longer with each hard thrust. Jake watched how your mouth was permanently opened as the beautiful noises he lives off of falls from your mouth.

“So fucking perfect for me. I need you forever baby” He drags his length out of pussy, leaving your empty for a second too long than what you wanted

Yet, he rams back into you to make up for the extra second of emptiness. “Who says I need your sister? I don’t need her anymore when I have you”

Your heart flutters at his words but you bury your head into her pillow in shame. You didn’t mean for it to turn out this way but your sister didn’t deserve him, everyone knew that.

Jake deserved better or worse. That is why he chose you in the end over her.

“You can be my girlfriend instead of her” He groans watching how you kept clenching around his cock the more he spoke, “Or maybe I get the best of both worlds by riding it out with her”

“Taunting you and fucking you behind her back. Sounds like an absolute dream”

Like a bucket of cold water was thrown over you to snap out of the haze that you peer behind you watching how Jake was already staring at you. He lets out a sinister grin as his pace slowed down but his thrust never faltered.

Each one teased your inside, poking where he could and will taint you. “You’ll drop that asshole of your boyfriend you have so that I can keep you all to myself”

You slam your hand down in the mattress with a shiver of your bottom lip, “Not my boyfriend” You correct in a time like this

Jake laughs loudly, his bruising grip pulling your body further apart to watch how your pussy allows him with ease and a big warm wet welcome.

He slips his hand under your body and down to your begging bundle of nerves and giggles when you wail and try to wiggle away from him. “Don’t run from me babe. It breaks my heart when you do that”

You let out a loud moan when he pressed harder down your clit and pushed his cock deep into you as you came around him again for how many times he ripped one of you the entire night.

He chuckles happily with no intent of stopping his own chase of pleasure again. Jake continues to push deeper into your gummy walls, you pawed at his wrist to rid it from your bud of nerves.

He ripped your freehand with his own and pressed it down to his girlfriend’s bed. Your balled up hand is engulfed by his as he holds it tightly. “Jake- Please” Your mind was too fogged to care about anything else that wasn’t him

The gnawing sensation in your stomach faded away as a pleasurable warmth filled you. Your body arches inwards when he stays true to his words of filling you up. The mess of your white velvet walls once again covered in white because of him.

Jake hovers his mouth over your shoulder, his teeth grazing your skin and clamping down but not enough to break the skin to keep quiet of his own whines.

He lets out strained noises when you keep fluttering around him—trying to push him out when he doesn't dare move an inch out of you. “So good for me” He presses soft kisses from your shoulder up to your neck, “You make me so proud”

The praises filled your weakened mind and made a warmth cross your cheeks as you buried your face more into the pillow to hide away from him. “Knew you would be perfect for me” Jake continues, loving how you react to his words, “Wish I met you instead of your sister. Would’ve been nice if you were mine instead of her”

The words left a sour taste in your mind but you couldn’t deny the fluttering of your heart. A forbidden desire in the form of your sister’s boyfriend was your worst nightmare but your biggest desire.

When Jake pushes off your body with one last nibble to your earlobe, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Your hand loosened from the edge of your sister’s bed and tried to move but hissed at the undeniable ache all over your body.

You can hear Jake giggling from behind you and you peer over your shoulder and horror daunted over you when you see his phone out, pointed directly to where he was still twitching in you, a sudden flash filling the room as he took a picture.

“What are you doing?!” A rush of adrenaline coursed through you and you try to push yourself up but Jake presses a flat hand on your back to keep you still

Watching his thumb effortlessly move across his screen until a satisfied grim stretches across his face. His eyes shined and you were unsure if it was from happiness or his screen.

His index fingers turn off his phone before panning the device over to you and turning it on with a single touch. Mortification runs your blood cold when you see the picture he had just taken as his lockscreen.

Instead of the picture of him and your sister in the mirror holding hands. All you see is the glops of white semen splattered all underneath your sister's bed and his still hard cock buried deep in your white slick hole.

He throws his phone somewhere onto his girlfriend’s bed before lifting your hips up from their laid position and raising them into the air—not once did he detach himself from your core. He pressed your face down to the mattress and you didn’t resist once—letting him do as he pleased.

“What the fuck” Your words muffled as you stare at him with shaky eyes over your shoulder but he only smiles widely and brings a finger to his mouth as if to keep you quiet

“This’ll be our dirty little secret”

——

You stood off to the side, away from the sea of sweaty people grinding their bodies together as music filled the stuffy house leaving no room for your own thoughts.

Through the crowds of people, you tried to look for any of your friends who brought you out here in the first place only you leave you behind in a flash.

You grumbled not believing you allowed yourself to be dragged out this when you told them numerous times you didn’t want to come.

“Looking for someone?” You turned to the accented voice and that’s when you saw Jake, displaying his infamous sweet smile

Out of 10 randomly chosen people, those 10 people will know exactly who Jake is. Captain of the soccer team, surprisingly very intelligent despite his carefree attitude, and most of his small friend group that made a name for themselves.

You knew who Jake simply was and it was the exact opposite of you. You didn’t respond to his question as you continued to look for your friends.

The questioning gaze he shot you cut through you like a knife but you didn’t dare face him, unaware of just how strong his undeniable power could be over you if you looked at him.

“I can help you find whoever you’re looking for” He tried to insinuate the conversation again but you only shook your head walked off, not wanting to stay any longer

Jake rapidly blink at the now empty space in front of him before letting out a scoff as his eyes trailed over you with a slight smirk before going after you. “Hey!” You somehow managed to pick up the same voice you were trying to get away from through the loud noises of the party

When you thought, you had escaped him, you were turned around and met with Jake’s body as he pulled you towards him and held a protective arm over you. You heard a loud thud from behind and you peered over your shoulders to see someone crashed into a wave of people causing them to fall down like dominos.

Your eyes widen as you and Jake’s eyes met as he gave you a tight smile and gave a squeeze to your shoulder before letting his arm fall to his side to let you go.

You shivered at the sudden coldness from when his arm unwrapped itself from around you and you stopped yourself from thinking about that anymore.

“Good thing I was able to catch up to you before you became one of those people” He puckered his plump lips to the people who slipped trying to get back on their feet

He expected to get sine type of reaction out of you from his comment, literally anything would have satisfied him but you only stared at him with an unreadable expression and it was driving him insane.

Just because you were quiet didn’t mean you weren’t known about, especially to Jake. He’s seen you walking around campus multiple times and his eyes always followed you until you were out of his sight as he deemed you, pretty mysterious girl, that he tried numerous times to talk to but always failed in the end.

“Hun! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” One of your friends suddenly appeared after not seeing her the moment you entered the party, as she wrapped her arm around your arm but she piqued seeing Jake

“Jakey? What’s your deal with my friend?” Your friend narrowed her eyes to him as he weakly raised his hands up to show his innocence

“Just watching out for her” His gaze shifted onto you before walking away from the two of you without another word

Your friend dusted you to remove Jake’s presence off of you, “Hun you have to be careful of guys like Jake. He’s always up to no good” Your friend pouted, shaking her head, “I’m speaking from experience”

But instead of paying attention to your friend’s rambles, you zoned out as you unconsciously searched through the numerous crowd of faces until you found Jake’s piercing gaze already on you.

A smirk plastered on his face as he gave a wave towards you, as an acknowledgement, to let you know that just how you looked from him in the crowd, he always looked for you too.

You frowned when you caught his face but your eyes never left his once.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

The night was still young according to your friends’ words as they squealed dragging you with them to a separate room in the house away from the party.

Right when you entered the room, it was silent and peaceful. The room blocked out the unbearable noise of the party and you hummed in happiness until your eyes settled upon the circle formed in the middle of the room, your eyes immediately soloing out Jake who let out a grin seeing you.

“You finally made it” Heeseung, another one a part of Jake’s infamous friend group spoke as he motioned for you and your friends to sit down with them

You saw how Jake shot his eyes towards the empty space next to him to you but it was filled by the very friend who warned you to stay away from Jake. “Jakey!” Her voice squealed as she sat uncomfortably close to him

Jake’s eyes darted from you to your friend but you turned your heel to sit across from him in between his other two closest friends, Jay and Sunghoon.

They gave a courtesy greeting as you sat down which you quietly returned, already hating the position you were in.

“Alright! Let’s get this party actually started!” Heeseung called out as he brought out an empty bottle and placed in between the circle

“Are you in middle school Heeseung? What is this?” Sunghoon sharply commented and Heeseung scoffed

“Relax it’s either do the dare or take a shot” Heeseung explained as he brought out a bottle of pure vodka next to hi

With the sudden view of the alcohol, it rose out cheers and claps of joy as Heeseung quickly spun the empty bottle anticipating who would be the first one to be picked.

Your eyes watched the spinning bottle, feeling your heart racing as the bottle spun and spun before slowly coming to a stop right in front of you. Your friend next to Jake gasped seeing you being the first one to be chosen for it.