sunghoon-cam

[sunghoon-cam]

— 𝐝𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐲

your plan to seduce your stepdad finally comes to fruition—literally.

❥ PAIRING: park sunghoon x female reader

❥ GENRE: stepdad au, smut

❥ WORD COUNT: 8.5k

❥ CW/TW: stepcest, infidelity, age gap, reader can be picked up by sunghoon, taking nudes, daddy kink, breeding kink, somnophilia, dub con, choking, spanking, begging, nipple play, mentions of a pussy job, fingering, oral sex (f), cum eating, squirting, unprotected sex, creampies, overstimulation

NOTE: don’t like, don’t read.

You’ve been playing a dangerous game for a while now. Ever since you moved back in with your mom and her new husband, you’ve been subtly teasing him. He gets so flustered when he sees you in revealing clothes or when you’re loudly talking on the phone about sex. You love it, and you really want him to do something about how frustrated you make him feel.

Today is no different. You’re taking provocative selfies in the kitchen while Sunghoon makes you something to eat. He’s sweet that way, but the only thing you’re interested in eating is him.

“Come take a picture with me, daddy,” you demand in a way that doesn’t sound like an order.

You hold back a smirk as Sunghoon tenses slightly before he does as you say. He walks over to where you’re sitting by the island and steps behind you. With a pretty smile, you raise your phone up and pose. The camera catches Sunghoon nosing at your hairline and pressing a gentle kiss on your soft cheek. He looks at the camera as he cups your tits through your thin tank top. You gasp softly when his thumbs smooth over your nipples until they’re hard.

“Not wearing a bra?” Sunghoon hums in your ear like he guessed from the moment you came downstairs. “What a naughty girl.”

“Sunghoon,” you mewl in pleasure. Your eyes flutter as he keeps pinching and tugging on your nipples through your flimsy shirt. 

He tuts in mock disappointment. “You know that’s not what I want to hear, honey.”

“Daddy,” you whine as you push your tits further into his hands. Your thighs rub together to ease the ache pulsing in your clit. 

“That’s it. Good girl,” he groans deeply. Sunghoon pinches your nipples even harder, watching as your eyes shut at the feeling. 

He keeps playing with your tits as he tells you to take a picture. You lick your lips and raise your phone again. The pictures come out surprisingly good despite how lost you are in pleasure. Sunghoon tugs down your shirt so you flash the camera. You don’t stop taking pictures, and you cry out for your stepdad as his fingers flick and tug on your hard nipples. 

“Take some more pictures baby,” he tells you as he kisses your neck. “Send them to me.”

Your clit throbs as your panties fill with wetness. They start to stick to your throbbing lips as you keep taking pictures of your stepdad playing with your tits. Sunghoon keeps toying with your nipples as he looks over your shoulder and watches you send the hot pictures to him.

“Good girl,” he murmurs in your ear, making you whine. “Now, let’s go upstairs. We have a few hours before your mom gets home.”

In no time at all, you end up on the bed your stepdad shares with your mom. It’s all so filthy, but you don’t care. Especially not now that Sunghoon’s pressing you face down into the pillow as he rails you into his martial bed. The bed is shaking so hard that the rest of the pillows are starting to fall off the side. 

“Fuck. What a slutty stepdaughter I have, huh?” Sunghoon laughs as he pumps his cock harder into your greedy pussy. “Offering yourself to me even when your mom’s home. Naughty fucking girl.”

“Uh huh,” you agree as you turn your face to the side. Your ass is raised high in the air so Sunghoon can fuck his big cock deeper into your wet hole. “I’m a dirty little slut for my stepdaddy.”

“Goddamn,” Sunghoon groans as he slams his cock against your g-spot. “You’re so fucking hot.”

“Please!” You whine as your ass bounces back against his pelvis.

Sunghoon grins. “Beg for it again, little slut.”

“Daddy, please!” You cry out, dizzy with arousal as you start to drool on the pillow.

“So good. Such a tight little pussy,” your stepdad growls as he slips a hand down your hips to tease your throbbing clit. “Gonna make you squirt all over me.”

“Da–Daddy!” You squeal as he picks up the pace, ramming into your squelching pussy as he rubs fast circles on your swollen clit. 

“Fuck, am I glad your mom’s not home,” Sunghoon groans. He laughs darkly when your hot cunt clenches down on his throbbing cock. “Can’t let her see how good I fuck her daughter’s tight little pussy.”

You moan loudly as you start bouncing yourself back on his cock to get it deeper inside you. His filthy words are driving you closer to the edge, and you need him to keep talking. “This is so wrong, daddy. We shouldn’t be doing this—ah!”

“It is,” your stepdad agrees after he smacks your ass. “It’s wrong and so fucking dirty, honey. But it’s been so long since daddy got his dick wet, and I know how bad you wanted my cock in your tight hole. Couldn’t let you go without some dick, right, baby girl?”

You nod frantically as your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Yes, yes! Needed your big cock in my pussy, daddy! Feels so fucking good!” 

“Yeah, it does,” he laughs meanly, giving your bouncing ass another rough slap. “Fuck. My dirty girl has the tightest pussy I’ve ever felt.”

Sunghoon shoves his cock deep into your cunt and grinds, making you squirm and whine as his dick rubs against the spongy spot deep inside your pussy. Your hands twist in the sheets as he flicks and pinches your sensitive clit.

“Daddy. I’m gonna cum,” you moan into the pillow.

“Do it, baby girl,” he orders as his free hand comes down to slap your ass hard. “Cum all over my cock. I need to feel this tight little pussy squeeze me.”

It doesn’t take long before you’re screaming in pleasure as your orgasm crashes into you. Your cunt clamps rhythmically around Sunghoon’s fat cock as you squirt all over him and your mom’s bed. He groans in appreciation, fucking into you harder so you keep covering him in your filth.

“Oh, honey, that feels so fucking good,” your stepdad praises you as his big hands slap your ass again and make you squeal. “Fucking work that pussy on my cock. Daddy has a nice load for you.”

“You can’t cum inside,” you whine even though you don’t mean your words. Your pussy flutters at the thought of Sunghoon’s cum filling your cunt.

“Why not?” Sunghoon grunts ravenously, hips not stopping. “You don’t like getting your little pussy creamed?”

“D-Don’t know,” you say honestly. A loud whimper escapes you when Sunghoon’s fingers slide over your hip to start working soft circles into your clit again. “Never been creampied.”

Sunghoon’s thick cock throbs in delight as a wolfish grin takes over his face. “You’ve never had a boy creampie your cute little pussy?”

When you shake your head, Sunghoon makes a filthy decision. 

“Don’t you wanna know what it feels like? Daddy will give you a nice, hot load if you want it.”

“W-What if I get pregnant?” You mewl as your toes curl.

Sunghoon groans as he fucks his cock into you harder. “That’s the point, baby. Why do you think I’m fucking you raw? Daddy loves to breed cute little pussies like yours.”

The cry you let out is filthy, and Sunghoon can tell by the way your pussy stains his pulsing cock with cream that the idea turns you on as much as it does him. “Let daddy fill you up, baby girl. It’s going to feel so good. I promise.”

You fuck yourself back on him, feeling yourself get even wetter at the thought of him getting you pregnant. His cock pulses and throbs inside you after you give him permission. You’re both getting off to the fucked up scenario of you ending up pregnant with your stepdad’s child. 

“Cum in me, daddy,” you whine, mewling as his fingers rub your clit even faster. “Want your cum! Want to feel it inside my little pussy!”

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, hips snapping hard against your ass. “Ready? Fucking take it. Take all of your daddy’s load deep in this needy little pussy.”

You moan loudly when you feel his hot cum filling your cunt. Your stepdad stuffs you so full it starts to drip out around his cock. He fucks his spent cock into your sloppy pussy as he pinches your clit. Sunghoon moans your name as he watches your back arch when a second orgasm rakes through you. Eventually he slows into a stop, breathing heavily as the last of his cum spurts into your used hole.

Sunghoon slowly pulls out of you with a grunt. His eyes are fixed on your messy pussy as his cum slowly leaks out of it. He licks his lips when he sees your fucked out expression.

“Such a good girl,” he praises as he runs his palms up the back of your trembling thighs.

Sunghoon slaps your ass hard. His cock twitches when you cry out erotically. With a quiet laugh, he smacks your plump ass again. 

“Daddy’s gonna have so much fun with you, honey,” he grins although you can’t see it. “I’m about to wreck this little pussy. Daddy has to teach you a lesson for being such a naughty girl.”

Sunghoon hears you cry out for him, and it fills him with excitement as his cock slowly comes back to life. His hand comes down again, slapping your ass to watch it bounce under his palm. Hearing you whine gets his blood pumping. Juices and cum keep oozing from your cunt, pussy lips already soaked and messy. 

“What a pretty pussy,” he groans as he starts to stroke his cock.

Sunghoon wants to do so many things to you that he’s not even sure where to start. Dark eyes hungrily stare at your trembling thighs and wet pussy. 

“Fuck,” he rasps out, dick throbbing as it drips with precum at the filthy sight. “Need to give this cute pussy some of daddy’s kisses.”

With that, your stepdad spreads your pussy lips and  watches hungrily as clear strings of arousal drip down your thighs and onto the bed. He lets go and spanks your pussy with a wet slap. Your body trembles with desire as you moan loudly.

“Is my naughty girl ready for daddy’s kisses?” Sunghoon calls out loudly, fingers spreading your cunt open again. 

“Yes, yes! Want your mouth on my pussy, daddy!” You cry out as your hips rock back.

Sunghoon laughs deeply as he pinches your pulsing bud. “Mmm, yeah. This slutty pussy needs daddy’s attention.”

Your stepdad bends down and runs his tongue through your wet folds, groaning at the taste of you two mixed together. His large hands hold your hips in face as he eagerly buries his face in your cunt to lap up the remnants of cum left behind. Sunghoon’s wet tongue fucks into your dripping hole greedily. He quickly loses himself in your sweet taste.

Sunghoon groans and tilts your hips up, holding you at an angle that has you clamping down on his tongue. He slips his tongue out of your hole to lick and suck at your throbbing clit. Your cries and moans are absolutely filthy as he laps at your sensitive bud. His grip on your hips tighten, not letting you arch away from the intense pleasure he’s giving you.

More of your juices coat his face as he keeps teasing and sucking on your clit. Eventually, he shoves his tongue back into your clenching hole to lap up all the cum and arousal spilling out of your pussy. He spanks your ass, making your velvety walls flutter around his tongue. It doesn’t take much for you to cum again. Sunghoon groans and laps it all up, cock leaking and aching to get inside you again. Knowing you can’t take much more, he pulls away and watches with satisfaction as you rock back toward him. 

“Daddy’s gonna fill you up, baby girl,” Sunghoon promises as he spanks your ass hard. 

You wiggle your ass in excitement. “Please!”

Your stepdad smacks his leaking tip against your pussy lips and throbbing clit. With a deep grunt, he glides his cock across your soaked cunt until he’s covered in your arousal. Sunghoon presses his fat tip into your hole and watches as your pussy sucks him in inch by inch until he completely bottoms out. He hears you whining into the pillow, and it makes him fuck his cock into you deeper. 

The noises you make drive him wild. He wants to be buried in your pussy all the fucking time. Now, he’ll always be excited when your mom leaves the house. He’s going to start counting down the minutes until he can taste your hot little pussy—until he can fill your hot little pussy. 

Sunghoon has to hold back from cumming inside you so quickly. Just watching it drip down your thighs and onto the bed he shares with your mom is driving him closer to the edge. His hips stutter as he pulls all the way out and fucks his cock back into your wet pussy roughly. 

“Gonna pound this slutty pussy until you learn your lesson,” Sunghoon groans and squeezes your ass until you’re mewling and arching your back. “Fuck. My stepdaughter is so dirty. You want daddy to cream this hot little cunt again, huh?”

Sunghoon’s pace gets rougher and needier when you cry out and beg him to cream your pussy again. Fuck. He’s going to breed your cute cunt until it’s leaking with his cum. His hips pick up speed as the bed jostles with his movements. 

“Yes, daddy!” You cry out as your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Fuck me! Fuck your slutty stepdaughter!”

Your pussy is dripping all over his cock, and Sunghoon can’t get enough of it. He keeps pounding his cock into your hole, heavy balls slapping your clit with a nasty plap. The room reeks of sex and filth, and he briefly pictures his wife walking in on him being balls deep in her pretty daughter. The filthy image makes his balls tighten up and pushes him closer to cumming. 

“Filthy fucking girl,” Sunghoon groans as he brings both hands down to your ass to spreads your cheeks. His dark eyes are trained on the way his fat cock stretches out your tight cunt. “Screaming for me like you want our neighbors to hear how good your stepdad fucks you.”

Once again, you cry out his name like a pornstar. You tremble with pleasure as you squirt all over his big cock for the second time. Sunghoon groans in satisfaction, fucking his big cock into you faster to prolong your orgasm. There’s only one end in sight. It’s him fucking you and breeding your hot cunt until you’re carrying his baby. He’s going to keep you on his cock until his wife gets back.

“Ready, baby girl?” Sunghoon coos as hand goes to your hip as the other spanks your ass. “Daddy’s about to cream your little hole.” 

Your stepdad rams his dick into your squelching pussy until you’re screaming in pleasure. Lewd squelching and skin slapping fills the room and mixes in with your filthy moans and Sunghoon’s deep groans. Your pussy clamps down on his cock until he buries himself deep into your pulsing hole and cums. Rope after rope of hot, sticky cum fills your clenching pussy as you milk his cock. 

“So good,” he grunts, rocking and grinding his dick into your clenching hole. “I love breeding this slutty pussy.”

Sunghoon slowly slips his dick out of you and watches his cum drip from your spasming pussy. His spent cock twitches at the filthy sight. He spanks your messy cunt and licks his lips.

“Don’t think we’re done yet, honey. Your punishment is far from over.”

“Fuck, so tight,” Sunghoon groans low in his throat as his cock slowly ruts in and out of your obscenely wet pussy. “This little pussy just needed a big cock, huh?”

Your eyes flutter as they open slowly. You mewl softly, still not fully awake but still vaguely aware of what’s going on. The filthy words register a second later. Even in your sleepy state, your eyes roll to the back of your head as pleasure clouds your senses.

“Goddamn, baby girl. You feel so fucking good,” Sunghoon moans. He grinds into your cunt before slowly easing his dick out of you, only to sink back in again. “Should’ve done this way sooner.”

Large hands squeeze your hips and keep you pressed against the bed. You whimper as Sunghoon slowly fucks his big cock in and out of your dripping hole. Despite this being only being the second time he fucks you, he already knows where your g-spot is because he keeps slamming his fat tip against it.

A second later, you feel a hot, wet suction sensation around your nipple and slowly realize that you’re completely naked. Sunghoon pulls of your stiff bud with a pop and bites across your skin to your other tit. He hums against the supple skin as he sucks marks around the hard nipple. Whining in pleasure, your hips roll against his while Sunghoon bites your nipple before sucking it softly. 

“You finally awake, honey?” He mouths against your sternum, teeth scraping against the soft peaks of your breasts. “Can you feel how deep my cock is fucking your slutty pussy?”

With a harsh thrust that jostles your body, your bleary gaze takes in Sunghoon boxing you in as he fucks his cock deeper into your clenching pussy. A low whine slips past your lips as Sunghoon bites your nipple roughly. Your body feels sore already, but you welcome the sensation.

“Been having fun with you all night,” he laughs, low and deep, making your pussy clamp down tightly around his fat dick. “Ate this pretty pussy out for hours. Then I had to suck on these cute nipples.”

“D-Daddy!” You gasp hotly, nails digging into his shoulders. “W-What about my m-mom?”

He grunts and fucks you slow and deep, cock barely leaving your tight hole as he moves his hips. “Don’t worry about her. She’s still sleeping.”

It’s starting to get light outside, and you wonder exactly how long your stepdad has been using you in your sleep while his unsuspecting wife sleeps in the other room. You can’t really care because his big cock is splitting you open so deliciously. 

“God. I almost creamed your cute hole, baby,” he coos at you. Your clit throbs as he grinds his pelvis against it. “You’re so hot and tight for me. Fuck. This sweet little pussy was made for my cock.”

You shudder underneath him, eyes rolling back as he grinds against the spongy spot inside your molten pussy. 

“Do you want to hear more about how daddy was playing with you?” Sunghoon asks before he swoops down and sucks on your bottom lip.

“Yes, please,” you chase after his mouth, but he pulls away with a sly smile. 

“I didn’t know you were such a heavy sleeper. You didn’t even stir when I took all your clothes off and spread your legs,” he laughs in a way that’s too cute for what he’s doing to you. “And then I just couldn’t help but kiss every single part of you.”

With a needy cry, your hands drift from his shoulders to his arms. “Daddy, please.”

The muscle in his jaw twitches as he roughly snaps his hips forward, bullying his cock deeper into your tight pussy. 

“Gave myself a pussy job. Then I licked and sucked on your tits. I bit your cute nipples until you were soaking my cock,” he moves his hands back up your body to pinch and tug on your stiff peaks. “Once your hot pussy was nice and wet, I decided to kiss and lick it—I know how much you like that.”

You feel slick gush out around his cock as his words drive your arousal higher and higher, the band in your abdomen growing tight as your orgasm steadily approaches.

He laughs at you. You’re too fucking cute. “So, of course I had to kiss my favorite girl’s pretty pussy.” 

Sunghoon’s hands move to press your hips down against the bed so he can drill his cock even deeper into your spasming cunt. 

“Ngh, daddy! Gonna cum,” you whine with sleep thick in your voice as your legs tremble.

“Not yet,” he laughs, eyes dark and mean. “Daddy’s gonna play with your sweet little cunt all night. Why don’t you just go back to sleep, honey? Let me use you like a fucktoy.”

You cry out loudly as your orgasm suddenly hits, surprising you both with its intensity. Sunghoon groans at the feeling of your hot little  pussy fluttering and milking his cock. He stills inside of you, cock flexing and throbbing wildly. You whimper and scratch his biceps while you cum around his big dick. 

“Fuck me,” he hisses, hands hot and heavy as they grip your hips tight enough to bruise. “Did you just fucking cum? What a slut.”

His fingers dip down to rub your swollen clit, wanting to prolong your orgasm. You buck against him at the painful yet pleasurable feeling on your sensitive bud. 

“Daddy’s gonna use you all the time. You know that, right?” He whispers against the shell of your ear as he rolls his hips against yours, cock gliding in and out of your squelching pussy. “Next time, I’ll make you guess how many times I creampied this sweet little hole after you wake up.”

Your back arches off of the bed with a mewling whine. His gaze turns dark when he sees you fucking your pussy into his movements. 

“God, am I fucking lucky,” he says before he kisses you, hot tongue pressing greedily past your lips. 

“Daddy,” you whimper into his mouth dazedly. 

“Got the sluttiest little stepdaughter,” his voice drips with honey. “Always needs her sweet little cunt stuffed with my cum.”

Your body feels wrecked in the best possible way as he continues to fuck you into your mattress. The sounds of someone going downstairs makes Sunghoon pause, pulsing cock still snugly buried inside your dripping heat. 

“Sounds like your mom’s awake,” he grins down at you filthily. “Guess we’ll need to be extra quiet.”

Your cunt pulses around him, and his grin widens. 

“Oh? Trying to get caught? What a dirty girl,” he coos darkly. “Maybe I shouldn’t breed your cunt since you can’t be quiet.”

“Please, please,” you gasp, fingers tangling in his hair as you rock your hips against his, “I’ll be quiet, I swear. Please, daddy. Don’t stop.”

He groans and keeps fucking your pussy with deep strokes. “I won’t stop, honey. Fuck, don’t think I could if I wanted to.”

“Please, daddy,” your head falls back onto your pillow. “Wanna cum again.”

“Goddamn, baby,” he hisses, roughly circling his thumb on your clit as he grinds into your pussy. 

Sunghoon kisses you deeply as his fingers pinch your pudgy bud, making your hips buck forward as pleasure washes over your body. Your walls pulse and cling to his dick, making him groan and snap his hips into you harder.

“So good. So fucking good for daddy,” he groans.

Your loud moans are swallowed when your stepdad kisses you again. He buries his cock deep inside your spasming cunt and cums hard. His hot, thick spunk coats your walls as he fucks it deeper into your pussy. 

You sigh in bliss when he slowly pulls his cock out of your used cunt. Sunghoon hisses at the sensation and presses one last kiss on your lips. He gently nips your bottom lip before he pulls away.

“Daddy’s not done with you, baby.”

Now, you’re fully awake as Sunghoon manhandles you until you’re bent over the bed. He stands behind you and strokes his filthy cock as he licks his lips. With a deep groan, he swipes his fingers across your slit to gather all the filth leaking from it.

“You’re so wet for me, baby girl. Like it when daddy plays with this cute pussy?”

“Yes,” you whimper, burying your face into the sheets. “I want you so bad.”

“Fuck,” he hisses before landing a loud slap on your ass. “What a filthy girl.”

“Daddy,” you moan when he spanks your ass again. “Want your cock.”

“Shh, baby. Keep quiet unless you want your mom to come in here and see her little girl being split open on my cock,” he laughs. “Maybe you do want that. Show her how your tight little pussy swallows her husband’s cock.”

Arousal drips from your hole and glistens on your thighs as Sunghoon spanks you over and over until the skin is hot. Without any warning, you feel him notch the fat head of his cock against your cunt and bottom out in one delicious stroke. His palm covers your mouth right as you scream, body thrashing underneath his weight. 

“Shh, baby girl,” your stepdad’s amused voice murmurs in your ear, “I’m just giving you what you want. Don’t you want daddy’s big cock stuffing you full?”

Your eyes roll back as he grinds even deeper into your pussy. The tip of his dick brushes against your sweet spot in a way that makes your cunt gush. A pleasurable pain shoots up your spine. His hand moves from your mouth to press against the back of your head while the other slips under your body, pulling on your clit back so the sensitive nub can grind against the duvet. 

A broken moan leaves your lips. The squelching from his dick pistoning into your cunt sounds loud and salacious in your room. His rough thrusts grind your clit against your sheets, sending molten heat to pool in your belly. Sunghoon’s hand grips your head and pulls you up until your body arches off the bed. 

“This pussy’s just made for my cock, isn’t it, honey?” He grunts. “Fuck. Your mom could walk in at any moment and see me pounding your hot little cunt.”

Your stepdad’s dick brushes against your g-spot, making you squeal and clamp down on it. He groans when you coat it with more of your cream.

“Daddy,” you whine. “I’m so close. I wanna cum, please let me cum.”

“Such a good little slut,” he praises through a laugh. “What if I said no?”

You whine again. “Please. I’ll be so good for you, daddy. I wanna cum on your cock—need you to cum in my pussy.”

Sunghoon laughs again and stills inside your throbbing walls. Your hips writhe back, trying to grind down on his cock, but he stops you with an iron grip on your waist. 

“That’s two different things, baby girl. You want to cream on my cock,” Sunghoon slips a hand down to your spread open cunt to teasingly rub your swollen clit. “But then, say you need me to cum inside your needy pussy. Which is it?”

“Fuck, please,” you mewl, brain hazy with pleasure, “I need both, daddy! Please!”

“Since you’re asking so nicely, I’ll let you have both,” he coos against your hair. “Cream on my cock, then I’ll breed this sweet hole until it’s dripping with my cum.”

A deep shudder goes through your body when he tells you he’s going to give you what you want. Your hips buck forward into his fingers before pressing back against his rough movements. Sunghoon’s cock slips in and out of your cunt roughly. You whine and moan into your sheets, briefly wondering if you’re being too loud. Honestly, you don’t care, and you can tell your stepdad doesn’t either.

Sunghoon rubs a few more fast circles against your pudgy clit, and your orgasm overtakes your senses. Your pussy clamps down and pulses against his cock as he fucks you harder and harder. He bites down on your shoulder before burying his cock deep inside your hole. Hot cum spurts from his tip as his balls empty into your pussy. 

“Good girl,” he praises lovingly as he sinks more of his weight onto your back until you’re both prone on the bed.

Your stepdad’s weight feels nice. It’s slowly lulling you into a sleepy daze as he caresses your sides and brushes your hair away from your face. He hisses when his cock softens enough to slip from your messy cunt. Sunghoon’s dark gaze lingers on your ruined pussy, watching your slick and his cum drip onto the bed. He cuddles you into his broad chest until a sharp knock startles you both. 

“Sweetheart, are you awake?”

You freeze and look at Sunghoon who only laughs to himself. He leisurely gets up off your bed and goes into your closet. You can’t help but feel endeared as he winks and closes the door. Even in situations like this one, his teasing nature remains. It makes you smile to yourself. You shakily get up and get back under your covers. 

“Y-yeah, come in,” you answer her, hoping your room doesn’t smell too much like sex. 

“I’m leaving now. I won’t be back until the afternoon,” she says normally. “And don’t stay in your room all day. Sunghoon thinks you don’t like him because you stay locked in here all the time.”

You keep your expression neutral even though you want to look at the closet with an incredulous expression. It’s obvious that it’s all part of his facade to keep your mom none the wiser, but it still caught you off guard. And you just know he has the biggest smirk on his face behind that door.

Your mom pauses before she walks out the door. “And clean up in here. It smells weird.”

Hiding your smirk is hard. Had it been so long for her that she forgot what some nasty, hot sex smells like?

Minutes later, you hear her walk down the stairs. Your closet door swings open, and Sunghoon doesn’t hesitate to get back into bed with you he pulls you into his arms and presses a sweet kiss on your temple.

“You’re okay, baby?” He murmurs in the quiet between you. 

He caresses a strand of your hair before sweeping his palm across your neck and down your back. 

“Mhm. I’m tired again,” you say through a yawn.

Sunghoon gives you a pretty smile as you snuggle closer to him. Your body buzzes with pleasure as you go slack against him. With a gentle hum, Sunghoon presses another kiss on the top of your head as you both relax into each other and drift off to sleep.

You keep fucking Sunghoon even though you know it’s risky. The sex is too good, and you know he feels the same way. Neither of you care about the place or the time. If one of you wants to fuck, you do. You’re both so filthy and ravenous that sometimes you wonder how long you can keep going without someone finding out. Especially since it seems like your stepdad keeps trying to get caught fucking you.

“C’mon, baby, let me hear you,” he goads, fingers buried knuckle deep in your cunt as you sit next to him on the couch.

You moan loudly as the sloppy wet sounds coming from your pussy fill the living room. “Fu–Fuck. Daddy!”

“Your mom’s gonna be back soon,” Sunghoon reminds you with a dirty smirk. “Hurry and cum on my fingers.”

Sunghoon adds a third finger to your stuffed hole. Your eyes roll back as they rub against the spongy spot deep inside your pussy. Sunghoon bites your neck, sucking on the skin as his thumb slowly rubs your swollen clit. Your mind is hazy with pleasure, and you know you’re close to getting the nice couch all dirty with your slick.

“Oh fuck, daddy,” you moan as you toss your head back against the couch. It makes it easier for him to suck and bite your neck. 

“You’re so fucking wet,” Sunghoon groans into your soft skin. “This hungry little pussy’s just sucking my fingers in. Can’t wait to have it wrapped around my cock.”

“Daddy,” you gasp wantonly as your hips roll down into his hand. “I want that so fucking bad! Want your cock now!”

“Oh, I know,” he coos as he kisses your cheek sweetly. “My baby girl needs daddy to breed her sweet pussy all day long.”

Pleasure overcomes you as your thighs fall open even wider. “Fuck, yes! Please! I want you to cum in me so bad!”

Sunghoon groans and fucks his fingers into your pussy even deeper. Ever since he spent hours creaming your little cunt over and over, you got addicted to it. Not that he’s any better. Your juices splash against his palm as it slaps against your clit.

The sound of your phone ringing cuts through all the nasty sounds, but it doesn’t slow Sunghoon down. Not even as you shakily pick it up to see who’s calling. 

“It’s my mom,” you whimper and he only smirks, fingers still pumping into your sweet cunt. “Sunghoon.”

“Answer it, slut,” he slows his rough pace but keeps his fingers rubbing against your g-spot as you obey him and answer the call. 

“H-hey, mom,” you swallow down the moans wanting to escape. “Y-yeah. My boyfriend’s here.”

Sunghoon laughs into your neck and picks up the hard, fast pace again. Your tight pussy is squelching loudly as you squirm against the couch.

“Huh? We were just h-hanging out,” you shut your eyes, hoping the orgasm you feel building in your core holds off just a little longer. 

“You’re on your way home?” You repeat before you bite your lip. Your eyes flutter as Sunghoon’s thumb circles your clit just right, driving your arousal higher and higher with every press. “No, it’s okay. He’ll be gone by the t-time you get back.”

You barely register the fact that she’s telling you that you don’t have much time to keep fucking your stepdad because she’ll be home soon. You’re too far gone in your pleasure to actually care.

“Okay. Love you, too. Bye.”

Your phone drops to the couch as Sunghoon’s fingers push you over the edge. Slick gushes from your cunt and squirts out all over the couch. It also gets all over Sunghoon’s arm and on the floor. Your stepdad’s smirk is filthy as he keeps thrusting his fingers in and out of your clenching hole.

“Oh, fuck! Fuck, daddy!” you wail as your back arches in pleasure. 

You squirt again as his fingers keep rubbing and pressing against the spongy spot inside your cunt that makes your walls flutter like crazy. After making you cum again, he finally eases his fingers out of your pulsing cunt, lightly caressing your clit with his wet fingers until you’re whimpering. Licking your lips, you let your arousal dictate your next actions.

“Fuck me,” you say as you spread your pussy open, further exposing your wet folds and your tiny hole that’s clenching around nothing. “Breed me right here, right now, daddy.”

“Fuck,” Sunghoon growls out as he quickly shoves his underwear down his thighs to pull his cock free. 

You moan as soon as you see his sticky tip. “Please, daddy. I want your cock so fucking bad.”

Pulling his swollen cock all the way out, he pushes you on your back and slaps it down on your puffy bud. You mewl and grind your pussy against his cock, wanting nothing more than to get stretched out and bred.

“I’ll give it to you, honey,” your stepdad smirks as he lines his tip up with your hole. “Gonna breed this juicy fucking cunt until you can’t take it anymore.”

You choke out a moan as he bottoms out inside you. Sunghoon’s fat tip knocks against your sweet spot so roughly that it makes you scream. He wraps a palm around your neck as he pulls out and thrusts back in. Your eyes roll back as he squeezes your neck. The feeling is sending you to another dimension as he fucks you fast and deep. 

“What a fucking slut,” Sunghoon laughs meanly as he pinches your clit. “You’re gonna get us caught since I’m not stopping. I told you that I’m gonna breed you all day.”

“Don’t care,” you gasp as your pussy clamps around his cock. “Just fill me up, daddy. It feels so fucking good.”

“Goddamn,” Sunghoon moans as his cock throbs in delight. “You’re so fucking perfect. Got the best little pussy.”

You whine when he squeezes your neck again. It makes his dick twitch inside you.

“Fuck, baby girl. I love how tight you get when I choke you.”

Your pussy spasms on his dick when he tightens his hold on your throat. It makes you dizzy with pleasure as your body jostles with every powerful thrust of his. You’re already close again, and you can tell your stepdad is too.

“So tight,” Sunghoon groans, fat tip battering against your g-spot as he fucks you harder. “It feels like you don’t want me pulling out. Fuck. This sweet pussy is always trying to suck daddy’s cock back in.”

All you can do is moan and move your hips to meet his rough thrusts. His cock is hitting so deep inside you that you swear you’re starting to see stars.

“Dumb little slut. Daddy’s dicking you down so good you can’t even say anything,” he grins wickedly, squeezing your throat even tighter.

You nod as much as you can, and he eases some of the pressure on your throat. He fucks into you harder, leaking tip practically kissing your womb as his pelvis rocks against your sensitive clit. The toe-curling sensation has your walls rhythmically pulsing around his cock.

Sunghoon rails his dick into your pussy, grinding all along the spongy spot in your cunt that has you clenching down on him hard. He lets go of your throat to grab your waist, pulling you down on his cock as it pistons into your dripping cunt. “Fuck. Gonna keep this tight little pussy on my cock all day. Don’t care if your mom is home. You belong on my dick.”

“I want that too, daddy,” you mewl desperately as he keeps hammering into your pussy.

You cry out loudly as Sunghoon’s fingers slip down your body to tease your puffy clit. He keeps fucking his aching cock into you, desperate to make you cum all over his dick.

“Be a good girl and cum on my cock so I can cream this sweet cunt,” Sunghoon murmurs heatedly. “I know you want it, baby girl.”

Your stepdad’s fingers smooth over your sensitive bud as his cock plunges into your squelching pussy. The delicious sensations make the tight coil in your lower abdomen snap. Sunghoon leans down and sinks his teeth into your neck as you cum, pussy fluttering and milking his throbbing dick. A loud moan slips past your lips. He fucks his dick deeper into your clenching pussy until he knocks his fat tip into your g-spot one last time. 

Sunghoon groans loudly when he spills his hot sticky cum into your cunt. Thick, hot ropes spurt from his cock, stuffing your cunt full. 

“Oh, fuck, daddy!” You whimper, cunt clenching rhythmically around Sunghoon’s cock. 

He slowly pulls his dick out, stroking the head to spill a few more ropes of cum on your swollen pussy and clit. Your stepdad licks his lips hungrily as he slaps his cock against your messy pussy before he pulls away. 

“We’re not finished.”  

His ravenous declaration makes your pussy clench and push more cum out of you. Sunghoon pulls you up and wraps your legs around his waist as he carries you upstairs into your room. Shutting your door, he shoves you up against it and licks into your mouth messily. You moan into his mouth as he kisses you heatedly.

“We have to hurry, daddy,” you say between filthy kisses.

“Don’t I already tell you, baby girl?” Sunghoon hums against your lips as he walks over to your bed and gently eases you on it. “I’m keeping you on my cock all day. I don’t care if your mom catches us.”

Sunghoon nips at your jaw as his hands trails down your naked body. He stops just before reaching the place where you need him the most. “Want daddy to play with your cute pussy until you’re soaking the sheets?”

“Yes, please, daddy,” you gasp as he sucks and bites the skin underneath your jaw. 

The hand on your abdomen glides down to run his fingers across your dripping slit. You whine when he finally teases your clit with slow swipes of his fingertips.

“So wet already,” he places gentle kisses down your throat. “You want my fingers in your needy pussy, baby?”

“Yes,” you hiss as you rock your hips, trying to get him to press against your swollen bud more.

Without any warning, he plunges two fingers deep in your leaking hole. They stroke against the front of your cunt to rub against the spongy spot that makes you clamp down on the digits. He roughly fucks his fingers in and out of your pussy until you’re whining nonstop.

“Do you see this?” He growls in your ear, middle and ring fingers buried deep in your cunt while his thumb rubs circles on your clit. 

Your bleary eyes look down at your naked body to watch as he scissors his fingers in and out of your soaked hole. 

“This is my cute little pussy,” he bites your neck, and you moan loudly. “Only mine.”

“Yeah, it’s all yours, daddy,” you whine as your fingers dig into his biceps. 

“Want me to give her some kisses?” Sunghoon whispers, fucking his fingers in and out of your pussy slowly. He lets the heel of his palm softly smack against your pudgy bud to make you drip with more arousal.

“Fuck yes,” you wail, eyelashes fluttering as he kisses your neck. “Kiss my needy pussy.”

Sunghoon groans and slips his fingers out of you before he starts trailing wet kisses down your tits. He teases each of your nipples with his teeth, sucking on the stiff buds until your back arches. With a deep laugh, he continues to kiss his way down your stomach to the apex of your thighs. Sighing in pleasure, he kisses your wet clit. 

“So sweet,” he rumbles low in his throat. “My slutty girl.”

Your stepdad’s soft lips kiss your aching clit over and over. He drools a line of spit down onto your bud before running his tongue through your pussy lips to lap at your dripping hole. With a moan, your legs fall open further.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, dark eyes watching you from between your thighs. “Keep spreading your legs for me, honey.”

You whimper loudly before you thread your hands in Sunghoon’s hair as he goes back down on you. His slick tongue flutters against your clit before he sucks it into his hot mouth. He bites down gently, and it sends an electric spark up your spine.

“Fuck, daddy! Your mouth feels so good,” you whine high in your throat. 

Groaning, he grinds against the mattress while he buries his face deeper into your cunt. His wet tongue fucks into your pussy eagerly like he wants to lick you clean. Sunghoon rubs his nose across your clit as his tongue slides in and out of your slick hole. He hums as you gush on his tongue with every sensual movement. It doesn’t take much for him to make you forget everything except the feeling of his mouth on your pussy.

The band of arousal in your abdomen gets tighter and tighter as he makes out with your pussy with a sloppy enthusiasm that has you moaning like a pornstar. Your arousal coats your inner thighs to the point it drips down your ass onto the sheets underneath. His hands hike your legs up over his shoulders so he can delve deeper into your pussy. With the new angle, it feels like his tongue reaches deeper inside you. His mouth presses against your cunt in a way that has you rolling your hips against his face. 

Hearing the wet noises of his mouth on your cunt makes your nipples tighten and ache. You bring your hands up to cup your tits and pinch the stiff buds. It makes you drip with more arousal, and Sunghoon immediately notices. He lifts his dark eyes, cock throbbing in delight when he sees you playing with your pretty tits.

“Mmm, fuck yeah. Play with those pretty tits, baby,” he growls as he moves up to suck on your clit softly. “Pinch those puffy little nipples until it hurts.”

“Daddy,” you sigh, eyes fluttering as you tug and roll your hard nipples. “I’m so fucking close. Gonna cum!”

Sunghoon pulls away and sits back. A sigh of relief slips from him as he starts to stroke his thick cock. 

“You will—on my cock,” your stepdad grins down at you. “Daddy’s gonna stuff your hot cunt until you’re nice and full.” 

You mewl desperately, hands moving forward to grasp at the air in front of him. His heart swells with affection when he sees how badly you want him. “Need your cock so bad! My little pussy’s so empty, daddy!”

“Fuck,” he hisses, quickly crawling back on top of you and boxing you in with his lithe body.

Your stepdad drags his big cock up your thighs, leaving a sticky trail of precum on your skin until the fat head rests below your belly button. You both moan when you see how deep he’s going to be inside you. Precum pools on your skin as it drips from his cockhead. Sunghoon gives you a heated kiss, sucking on your tongue and biting your bottom lip before he has to pull away.

Sunghoon grabs the base of his fat cock and slaps the leaking tip against your pudgy clit. You whine as he rubs his cock through your soaked folds, smearing your arousal everywhere. He presses down harder and lets his head dip in and out of your clenching heat until you’re rocking up into the motion, tempting him to push inside your cunt fully. 

“Please, daddy. Need you to fuck me and cream my little pussy,” you moan wantonly.

“Fuck, honey. You know I can’t ever say no to you,” Sunghoon smirks, finally notching the head of his cock at your leaking hole. 

With a low groan, your stepdad thrusts forward, sliding inch by inch into your pussy until he bottoms out. Your walls pulse and squeeze around his fat cock.

“Oh, that’s it. Fuck. Such a good girl, squeezing me so fucking good,” he coos in your ear as he settles more of his weight down onto your body. 

“Daddy, please,” you choke out, legs wrapping around his waist, arching your back so he can fuck into you even deeper.

Sunghoon pulls out and thrusts his cock into your pussy until he bottoms out again, heavy balls slapping against your ass. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he presses you down on the bed.

“Always such a perfect fit,” he moans, fucking into your cunt faster. “Pretty pussy’s made for my cock.”

Your mouth drops open as his dick reaches deep inside you. Sunghoon fucks you deep and slow until you’re writhing in pleasure. You roll your hips into his as your pussy clenches down on him. “F-Fuck, daddy. Wanna cum for you.”

Sunghoon’s heart thumps harshly in his chest as he swoops down to press a sweet kiss on your lips. He fucks his cock into your g-spot until slick drips down his heavy balls. You reach up to tangle your hands into his hair as he slowly slams his cock into your fluttering walls.

“You’re squeezing me so fucking tight, baby girl,” Sunghoon groans before he kisses your lips again. “You want daddy to breed your greedy hole?”

”Yes, yes,” you moan, hips writhing desperately. “Breed my pussy, daddy! I need it so fucking bad.”

Your stepdad laughs darkly and starts to roughly pump his cock into you. It has your pussy pulsing and gripping his cock tightly. Sunghoon presses his lips on yours. He licks into your mouth, tongue slipping inside to tease your own. You eagerly kiss him back, mewling and moaning between the sloppy kisses.

“Fuck. You’re so fucking perfect, honey,” Sunghoon groans as his cock pulses and throbs.

Your body shivers at his affectionate words. Sunghoon rocks his hips down, pelvis catching on your clit just right as his balls smack against your ass with every rough thrust. You mewl as your toes curl in pleasure.

“I’m getting close,” you moan loudly.

Sunghoon picks up the pace. His girthy cock pistons in and out of your pussy savagely. Sloppy, wet sounds echo in your room, making you clench down on him tighter. The way he moans makes you grin. 

“Cum on my cock so I can breed this pretty pussy, baby. Let daddy fill you up,” your stepdad says adoringly as nips your bottom lip with a grin of his own.

Your clit throbs with every brush of his pelvis. The dizzying sensation makes you squeeze down on his cock tighter and tighter as he grinds against your g-spot. Your legs tighten around his waist until he can barely pull out. Sunghoon grins fondly and starts to rut his cock in short, shallow thrusts as your climax overtakes your body. Thrashing and moaning, your pussy clenches and flutters around his thick cock as your eyes roll back in your head.

”Fuck. You’re gonna make me cum, baby girl,” Sunghoon says through a groan.

“Do it, daddy,” you demand cutely. “My little pussy’s ready for you.”

“That’s it, honey. Let daddy breed this sweet cunt.”

Sunghoon moans your name as his cock throbs and kicks inside you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he spills a hot load of cum deep inside your cunt, soft walls milking every drop from his heavy balls. 

“So good,” your stepdad pants, sloppily kissing your neck as he softly thrusts into your clenching heat. “Fuck. Your little pussy was made to get fucked and bred by me.”

You can only whine out nonsense as he pumps rope after rope of thick, sticky cum in your fluttering hole. Sunghoon’s pelvis smacks against your clit and sending little shockwaves of overstimulation throughout your body. He finally pulls out with a groan, half hard cock shooting out another spurt of cum to coat your puffy pussy and clit. With a moan, he rubs his thick spunk into your skin, smearing it until your slit is sticky and messy. 

“I love you, baby,” Sunghoon says as he gives you a slow, passionate kiss. “So fucking much.”

You grin against his lips, not caring that you hear the sound of the front door slamming shut. “I love you too, daddy.”

[sunghoon-cam]

TRAPPED .ᐣ.ᐟ

➤ looks like we're gonna be here for a while....

━━━ NOW PLAYING. . . . ᝰ.ᐟ ⤷ oh, runnin' out of breath, hands on your neck but you ain't gotta say another word i'ma TALK YOU THROUGH IT .ᐟ

pairing ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ parkjongseong x fem!reader warning ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 18+, mdni, smut, mirror sex, pinv!, dom!jay, sub!reader, breeding, nextdoorneighbour!jay, trappedinanelevatorwithjay!, blowjob!, rough!manhandling, overstimulation word count ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 5k

─── ☠︎ 제이 ⊹ ࣪ ˖

“looks like we’re stuck here princess.”

“floor 1” the automated voice breaks the soft stroll of the elevator with the shaft automatically opening, revealing a figure in front of you. 

jay. 

your annoying next door neighbour.

he glances down on his phone, thumb mindlessly scrolling through whatever he was on. it takes him a second to realize that the elevator opened. 

he walks in, phone still in hand. 

he stands on the opposite side of the elevator, all tucked in the corner. tresses of his hair fall right in front of his face. the brightness on his screen is slightly dim, the silhouette of his phone glowed through his pupils. his attire was strangely comfortable, looks like he got up back from the gym.   

the elevator is silent. just the sounds of chiming as the platform passes each floor. your mind is bloggled with constant thoughts of regret and embarrassment. it didn’t help the fact that you both lived on the same floor, he was your neighbor after all. 

“why the fuck is he here….”

“out of all times, it had to be now.” 

“god, can this elevator go any faster?”  

you look at the indicator, watching as the numbers change with each passing second. 

he could feel your uneasiness. impatience written all over your body; fingers clutching your phone so tightly, painting them white with unsettling turmoil. the screen glows against your face, casting a harsh blue light streaking all over your face while your eyes simultaneously altering between the time and the changing of the floors.

“you know, you can’t always avoid me forever, princess.” his sudden tone breaks the stillness as he turns off his phone and places it in his back pocket. 

you don’t answer. your eyes were glued onto the phone. the nickname that left his lips sent vibration through your body. the way the words would flow smoothly that escaped his parted mouth, smooth like silk disturbed you. always leaving that lingering finish that makes you want to taste it again.   

he chuckles. his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he scoffs. “so you’re going to ignore me, is that it?” he shifts his position to face you, leaning against the wall with arms crossed, tangled with one another.

he eyes you down with a piercing gaze. dark chestnut hue that shined like amber, dilated at the sight within his reach, fully taking in: the curves, well applied makeup and the choice of outfit that was laid out perfectly. continuously, analyzing your delicate structure while the lightning emphasized your features that made him want to see what you were hiding under those clothes. bra that visibly through your collared shirt as the loosely fitted cloth hid your raw form. 

he didn’t care if you ignored him, he wondered what other excuse you had up your sleeve. you probably had a whole list of ways to avoid the situation, rehearsed and ready for when the time comes but, he had a way. a method that targeted your weakness, reluctantly putting you on the spot; watching your mind black out as you try to find the right words. and yet, he knew that his tactic would work — perks of being a silent observer with attentive hearing. 

as expected, you’ve followed his script.     

he watches you part your lips but not a sound comes out. 

you hated him, not because he was insufferable but sometimes he can get under your skin. always knocks on your door during the worst times, gets several noise complaints from a certain individual and always plays that damn ridiculously loud guitar you swore you were gonna break one day (obviously a taste of your own medicine).  you would never interact or even bat an eye in his direction but the universe said no.

you’ve had constant hookups that you would invite over from time to time. they were never good and you never felt satisfied. for entertainment purposes,  you decided to play along. the sweet innocent fragile girl that everyone wants to ruin. not to your surprise, they all had the same intentions.

big egos, small dicks, cocky attitude — you name it all.  

but there was one guy you did want to taste.

and you hate to admit it but you’ve fantasized about your next door neighbor. 

as much as you despise him for being bat shit annoying, you found him seriously attractive. times where you find yourself thinking about him at night. he was so mysterious, you never saw him go out other than going to the gym that was built in with the apartment. 

headphones pressed into his ear, protein shake placed beside the gigantic water bottle he always carried around. tank top that suited perfectly onto his defined body, sculpted abs peeking through the cotton material that made your mouth salivate at the sight. sweat beading down his neck,  breaths came out in shallow pants while his muscles swelled beneath his skin as he exercised.

your intrusive thoughts always get the best of you, imagining how you’d look in between them, feeling the solidness of his structured arms, positioning you in a headlock or softly caressing your skin. 

but he was your neighbour and nothing more.   

in the middle of a heated session, you’d hear a raging knock against your door which you’ve ignored the first few times but each knock becomes relentless.

you’d opened the door to see him. headphones wrapped around his neck, dressed in a white tank top that clinged onto him like a leech and those damn grey sweatpants that were a little too low for your liking.

“what do you want jay?” you scoff annoyingly. 

“could you lower it down, i’m trying to work.” his tone was poised with aggravation. 

“really, that’s all you had to tell me. just fucking use the headphones..i don’t know, blast some damn music.” you aggressively shut the door in his face before he could even utter another word. 

the sticky sounds of your footsteps strumming away from the door as they slowly dissipate from his auditory senses, your voice was faint but he could still make out what was happening on the opposite side of the door.

“who was at the door.” a muffled male’s voice heard from a distance. 

“just some mail, nothing important.”  

and this wasn’t the first time he’s done this. every time you opened the door, it was him, standing there like a lost puppy. The same words always escaped his mouth: 

“could you lower it down.” added on with a variety of different excuses he’s probably made on the spot.    

by coincidence, it was always when you had some guy over.

like what was his problem.   

but you never dwelled on the thought so you decided to ignore it. 

you’ve been his neighbour for quite some time. he’s never cared for anybody’s life except when it came to you. at first glance, he thought you were drop dead gorgeous like god had finally sent him the gift he was longing for.

you were kind, affectionate and genuine. beyond attraction, it was sincerity. a glimpse of something real — your smile, the curve of your lips while your eyes softened, and your beauty possessed something he couldn’t quite grasp. a blend of timeless elegance, poised grace that sent him into a dreamy haze. you embodied a seductress that left him struck with awe.

but there was one flaw. 

you’ve always had a different guy at your door and every time, you were so fucking loud. 

not screaming loud like you saw a spider, but — pornographic loud. literally something out of porno movie.

every weekend, he would just hear you. those same sounds that escaped your lips like you were having the time of your life.

those soft, heavenly moans erupting from your esophagus as they become broken with pleasure. mixed with the bed creaking as if it was on its last legs, breaking the quietness that was ruined by the tension that filled the air like smoke.

at first, it was irritating but that soon left him to become aroused. those same sounds he once found bothersome overcame with overstimulating pleasure and he wasn’t even the one going down on you.  

but he wishes. 

wishes that he was the one making you sound like that. hearing you moan his name while his cock was hugging your insides, leaving you full and famished. gripping your throat with force but not too much to choke you — just enough for you to feel the pressure. 

squealing beneath him while you refused to look at him, not because of embarrassment but out of shame. keeping him all pent up from this overwhelming desire like an itch he couldn’t scratch but just had to endure until he found the cure. 

but all he could do to slowly cure his need is to find a temporary remedy, and the closest thing he could get was just knocking at your door. 

every time he would appear at your door; it was just an excuse to see you. your disheveled state would make his breath hitch, eyes looking with an erotic glare, reveling in the sight as it made him tense up with burning lust. 

god he wanted to take you right then and there but he couldn’t.

however, he can finally take this opportunity to fully ruin you. 

“do i need to remind you?”

suddenly, a loud thud shakes the elevator, making you and him stumble. the lights that were illuminating quickly black out, flickering as they dimmed out. 

no, no, no, no. 

the buttons faded, losing its source. he tried pressing the panels but nothing budges. 

“looks like we’re stuck here for a while, princess” a smirk written all over his face while an unreadable gaze stares you down, leaving you with a jarring feeling that settles in the pit of your stomach. 

well that’s just great.

for some time, you tried calling for help but there was no service. jay tried pressing the emergency button but as expected, no luck. 

“shit, cmon…..” you anxiously pace around the tight area while you bite your lip with impatience. 

he sees you, fledged with panic. fingers running through your long locks as they tangled beneath your fingers. he’s pleased by your determination to get out of here but it was a lost cause. 

“there’s no use.” he sighs as he leans against the wall with arms crossed.

you grunt out of frustration. shoving your phone in your purse as you lean against the railing, slowly losing hope. 

“so what now?” 

“i guess we just wait for the power to come back on.”

“so while we wait, shall we finish what we started..?” his eyes dark with a starving look, paired with his voice that sounded low, wrecked with thirst. 

you swallowed hard, slow like your body couldn’t handle the change of tension he was controlling. you felt like you were radiating heat like a steamer while the air suddenly felt thick, making it too hard to breathe in. 

“just forget that ever happened. that was a mistake.” 

“forget what happened? how could i forget what happened when you were moaning my name so sweetly while you were getting fucked by someone else.” 

your breath stammers. speechless. those words settle on your mind like an ongoing reminder, pulling you into a deep hollow of sensual nature. you felt embarrassed with the scenario constantly repeating in your head. 

lost in the pleasure as your mind swallows into a slumber of scenarios of jay, hands pleasing you with delicacy, his warm mouth dragging along your body — soft, plump lips, moisturized that shine as they leave an imprint on your porcelain skin. those deep eyes looking up at your fucked out face as he trails lower and lower. tongue swirling against your folds, the tip of his tongue curling inside your entrance while your thighs clench around his face, suffocating his blockage of air. 

your entrance clenches at the thought, milking the guy’s dick so tightly. 

“fuck..jay!…please.” you softly moan while you were getting fucked.

they slowly increased their speed, your legs wrapping around his firm waist as they came. shaking tremendously as they ride out their orgasm, groaning loudly in your ear. 

they’re out of breath but your insides felt hollow and empty. they pamper the base of your neck while you stare at the ceiling with a dead, unsatisfied look in your orbs. 

soon after, you’ve realized how thin the walls were, making you wonder if he heard. 

fuck, did he hear you saying his name..?  no he’s probably sleeping or something. 

you prayed to god that he didn’t.   

but 

unfortunately for you, he did. 

especially, the one thing you hoped he didn’t hear.

he stares at the ceiling while he’s laid out in his bed, the bedside lamp casting a soft yellow glow to his room with his phone resting beside his pillow and a hard on peeking through his pants. 

the next day after that hookup, you saw him, in the gym, doing his regular routine. he feels your eyes lingering on him and he locks onto yours, giving you a playful wink before locking his attention back to the weights he had in the palm of his hands.

it doesn’t take you a minute to realize that he heard everything.

and now you have to face the one thing that you’re scared to admit. 

“it’s pretty messed up for someone to say another person's name in bed. don’t cha think? ” a cocky grin forms on his lips while he tilts his head slightly. 

“y-you must've heard wrong.” you retorted back at him, words catching in your throat.

“heard wrong? that’s cute of you, trying to cover for yourself. are you sure you wanna play that game sweetheart?” 

“w-what?” your hands clutch the railing tightly, turning your knuckles white with pressure. 

“i know what i heard and i know you thought about me multiple times and we both know that this isn’t the first time.” he slowly kicks himself off the wall. 

“you’ve thought about me, you wanted me to hear, wanted to make me see how good these men make you feel but in reality, you didn’t want them, you wanted me.” each step was deadly, slow but rushing with eagerness. 

fuck, he saw right through you. your scheme, tactics — everything. 

“so, what do you say sweet girl, should we test that theory?” he towers over you, a ravenous gaze that undresses you piece by piece.

you dropped everything that was stringed to you and pulled him into a deep kiss. your hands that gripped the fabric of his shirt, slowly loosen their grip as you melted into a haze. the kiss became more rough as your bodies were loosening unspoken tension but was communicated through silent actions. your breathing becomes unsteady while shutters escape as you try to absorb some air but his firm hands pull you closer, the shape of his palms pressed into the meat of your skin, not breaking the tension as he controls your frame to his liking. his touch felt intoxicating, yet soothing, almost like a sweet caress on the cheek.  

you were tangled in this heat, a charred wreck of crave. his tongue was roughly intertwining with yours while his hands ventured along your curves, the fabric of your clothes gliding beneath his fingers while he fiddled with the hard texture of your shorts. 

he pulls down your shorts with ease, leaving you with only your panties and lace stockings. your thighs clenched together as the cool breeze swift past you like a gentle breath. you were already soaked — just from kissing. the ache was unbearable, throbbing every second like it was starving. signaling that it was missing something;  a solution — that was standing right in front of you, ravaging you with a warm sensation.

 soon after, his hands glide under your collar shirt, finding their way to your bra. he unclasps it with precision, letting it fall to the floor. the tightness that surged into your chest was met with a release, your nipples poking through the thin fabric of your collared shirt. the subtle coldness of the fabric makes your nipples become more firm, visible. he unfastens the buttons with practiced grace as they unravel in sync. he disconnects his lips to yours as he pulls down his sweatpants, those same ones that leave you breathless. those things were a curse, literally torture to the female gaze. you swallowed a lump in your throat as he was left with only boxers. 

he grabs the base of your chin and gives a sweet peck on the lips before he pushes you down, your knees touching the ground with his sweatpants fluffed up beneath your legs, acting as comfort. 

he pulls his cock from his boxer. it sprang open, hitting his abdomen as it glistened with pre cum, twitching with eagerness. 

he was jacked like — hung as fuck. 

“suck.” he commands.

the silhouette of his cock hovers over your face as your eyes shift its focus on what was in front. you gulp hard, almost choking on the lump you tried to push down. you’ve seen dick multiple times but why did it feel like this was your first time seeing one?

you revealed your mouth, lips wrapped around his tip while it disappeared into the void of your opening. he hisses, the reaction was immediate; chest shuddering as the stimulation of your warm mouth was too enticing to bear. 

“f-fuck…” he stammers. 

your mouth was so warm. his lips slightly ajar, a hand automatically placed on the top of your head, lightly gripping the soft strands of hair out of instinct. with an attempt, you slowly swallow him deeper into your throat, eyes glossy as it blurs your vision with each blink struggling to regain your vision, a few droplets of tears streaming down your face, spilling out of control as a result of pleasure. the more it went deeper, the tighter it got. it was already hitting the back of your throat and you still had more to go. 

“c’mon baby, you can take it more.”  his hips instinctively moved on their own like they had a mind of its own. light, smooth thrusts moving in a repetitive motion while coats of your saliva project a lewd sound. fingers digging deep into your scalp, trying to group your silk threads to get a better grip. he forces his cock even deeper into your mouth, making you gag with intensity. you clench your fist tightly, turned white with desperation. 

this was even better than he imagined. he used to feel envious of the men who got to experience this euphoric feeling that was surging in his body like a rush full of energy. those no good for nothing guys who did a shit job at pleasuring your sweet, plush body. they didn’t deserve to touch you. 

jay, who has constant thoughts about you like a recurring dream that left him aching. thoughts that were shameful and completely invading. lips that curved a little too wide as he thought about erotic positions he could place you in, whisper sweet nothings in your ear as his cock fills your tight pussy with the guminess of your walls cling onto him like a parasite that refused to slip from your skin. too addicting to let go. hungering for the delicious taste of your flavour like a sweet nectar that keeps him alive.

this view, he swore that he was seeing heaven. a hazy daydream that visits his mind like a warning that he was meant to notice. 

“fuck you’re so good..” he seethes. His pace slowly became more grueling. transitioning into a tortuous pace that leaves you utterly speechless. literally. your moans were mumbling against his base, sending vibrations through his exterior. shaky moans escaped his parted lips, trembling under his breath as he tried to contain it. 

he felt even more sensitive than before, a thrill ran down his spine, heat coiling in his stomach, a release that was begging to escape — ready to unleash at any moment. “s-shit baby, i’m getting close……”

“f-fuck m’gonna cum!.” his hips twitched, becoming sloppier by the second. he kept his pace, chasing his climax before it finally bloomed. 

cum spilling out in thick beads, the warm substance exuding in your mouth. his cock pulsates as they come out slow and deep, twitching violently against your tongue. strands of his hair sticking onto his forehead, chest rising and falling as he tries to stabilize his breathing. 

his cock slowly leaves your lips, drips of his semen threatening to be spilled. after he catches his breath, he caresses your cheek so softly, his touches were so comforting that you almost forgot that a few seconds ago he was fucking your mouth. 

“open your mouth for me…” 

you obey. tongue coated with his seed, flowing through your mouth like a tide. “now swallow for me.” the thick consistency cascading down your throat as it lingers inside before the substance is fully consumed. 

“good girl.” he coos while he brushes his thumb across your lip. you’re exhausted, you don’t know if you had any stamina left in you. 

but he wasn’t done with you. this was just the beginning. 

your mind was still in another world. all the fantasies you had about him were unraveling one by one. he was everything you’ve imagined and as unrealistic as that sounded — you wanted to feel more. you were so deep into your thoughts that you didn’t realize he had you in a position, all sprawled out, adjusted to his taste.  

he had you facing the mirror, the smooth pane of glass polished by the reflection of the scenery. silently observing while you were angled to his crotch. your hands grabbed onto the railing, the metal rod was ice cold to the touch, sending shivers through your body. he peels off your panties, discarding it like a piece of trash. your bare pussy was exposed; plump, puffy lips begging to be touched.

“you ready, baby?” he stares directly at you through the mirror. his gaze was menacing, cold, dark and hungry.

“mhm.” you nod instinctively. 

he holds his dick up to your pussy, the tip brushes against your entrance, softly caressing your sweet pussy lips as he slides it up and down. with ease, it slides in between your folds, catching a gasp to escape your lips almost immediately. 

“shittt..” a soft gasp erupts. “i haven’t even put the whole thing yet and you’re already squeezing me.” jay’s gaze droops down to the delicious sight of your pussy, already picturing what might unfold. he wanted to tease you, make you fully submit to his touch as you crumbled underneath him, a plea that only he could provide.  

he continues to insert more of it in, hands placed on your hips as leverage. with every insertion, the tighter your core clenches around him. wringing his dick till it was bone dry,  milking every speck of cum he had bottled up. 

you feel your legs wobbling, jiggling like jello. the sight of you struggling made him revel in excitement. his eyes darken the more you let out those savoury moans that riled him up like a predatory instinct.  his length, the girth was excruciating, too much to bear but it felt amazing. as you braced yourself, more of his length slides into you. the plunge was almost immediate but finally, he reached the pit of your pussy.

he doesn’t move — not yet. he lets you settle into his size, giving you a breather before he has his way with you but you squirm. bucking your hips up and down his shaft with impatience. 

“oh? someone’s a little eager..” he chuckles. 

“please j-jay…” you whimpered, a broken squeal naturally left your lips.

he’s loving every second of your crumbled state. his body rises with an adrenaline rush, battling with his intrusiveness that was swarming his mind, a control that was about to snap at any moment. 

“beg. beg for me to fuck you.” his words curled into your ear that made your heart drop, not with fear but a buzz — a thrill for more. 

“please fuck me. i need you so bad.” you whine.

need.

that word was enough to set him off. 

“again.” his tone changed the atmosphere, pleasure that became still. 

“fuc-”

“no, tell me that you need me.”

“please, i need you so bad, jay.” 

fuck that was it. 

without hesitation, he gripped your neck and roughly started thrusting into you like his life depended on it. the motion was sudden, each plunge sent shivers down your spine while your eyes flicker with sparks. he groans against you, tongue slightly darting out as he calculates every thrust in a timely rhythm. “j-jay p-please sl-slow down!” your nails digging into the polished glass in front of him. “you can take it baby.” this was unbearable, at any given moment; your release can come at any second. your throat sounded hoarse, every sound that escaped felt like a silent call. “you’re so fucking cute baby…..tell me, were they any good?” he leans in to your level while looking at your disheveled state in the mirror with a cocky grin plastered all over his face.  

you couldn’t even form words, all that escaped were desperate attempts of pleas. “did they ever fuck you this good baby.” his grip turned a bit tighter. 

you swore you were gonna pass out until his hand was released from your neck to tap your cheek. “aah, don’t leave me hanging sweetheart.” 

“were they any good..” you don’t answer him right away which sparked irritation. “don’t make me repeat myself.” his voice, stern.

“n-no.” 

he chuckles, his ego greatly increased as he pressed a light kiss on your neck before he shifted his focus to your pussy. every nerve was thrumming aggressively, pulse quickening as the air thickens. this overwhelming washes over you like an incoming tide. jay was giving everything he had; sexual tension bottled up that was left neglected by pent up frustration and a hate that swallowed his mind from anticipation that kept him awake at night, all hot and bothered. you were perfect, his other half that he was searching for, hell — yearning for. 

this view was everything he could’ve asked for. the mirror was capturing every detail like a video. his eyes were recording this memory that he’ll never forget and certainly never let go of. “you’re so good for me baby…” 

“o-only for you…” you cooed as he brutally kept going. your moans were becoming raw and needy, both of your hands clutching the rail so tightly that cold rod soon became warm from the sudden temperature of your body. 

“f-fuck” hips stammered into you, slamming forward as he pulled backwards and forward again. there was more force and control with the more he regained his desired pace. currents of momentum overpowering you with pleasure sending jolts down your spine. his pace was animalistic, almost as if he’s lost himself. “this what you wanted?” voice laced with desire. “to be fucked like the slut you are.” 

you couldn’t answer. your mind was in a daze, too engulfed with the unbearable tension. your body losing its control that slowly was taken by him like he was pulling the strings that latched onto your body, completely visible to him but invisible to you. submitted at his disposal, you couldn’t even form a single thought — too cock drunk to even comprehend anything that was happening. he never wants this experience to end, in fact, unveil this revelation that was unleashing piece by piece. “t-too b-big!” you pant, a small squeal releases from your esophagus. 

“shhh, just a little more.” his grip that was on your neck shifted towards your shoulder blades, his palm gripping the firmness like it was meant to be there. he’s never felt this good before. he’s been with a couple of women but not multiple that would paint him as a man-whore. if this was a competition of who had the best pussy — you were automatically winning number one. your walls clench even tighter around him, this time, it was suffocating. “are you getting close?” voice was dark, almost like a growl. you nod your head violently. 

he leans in, leveled to your ear as his hands slide down to rub your clit in slow tantalizing motions, circling at a fast rate, making you shiver from sensitivity. his hot breath fans the shell of your ear while his fingers are covered from your slick. “you close yet?” you nod frantically, your release arriving slowly, tears swelling your eyes as they streamed down your face. “fucking cum for me.” he commands. you let out an exaggerated moan while his name leaves your lips like it was the only thing you knew. his thrusts were getting sloppier as he was getting hypersensitive, shit he was going to come inside you. “f-fuck m’gonna cum baby.” his voice cracks, hollow breaths stammered softly as he groaned loudly.

“jay!” your eyes were clenched shut, you held onto that rail for dear life as you came around his dick. his cum gushed inside you, painting your walls with his seed. your breaths were uneven, skin sticky with a heavy warmth. 

strands of your hair moving in rhythm of your breath, legs tremendously shaking out of control, tear stained face while your makeup was smudged. 

he pulls out of you, strings of both of your fluids stick onto each other like a web. your hole was overflowing with pools of cum streaming down your thighs, resembling honey from its rich consistency. 

as you both catched your breaths. he helped you get dressed as you smoothed out any imperfections while he eventually did the same. you tried standing on your own but your strength was nowhere to be found. before you could fall, he catches you in his arms. he became your support as all the lights of the elevator flickered on, panels regaining their colour. the gentle drift of the elevator, revealing two technicians and a firefighter whose eyes catch your current state. 

“is she alright?” the voice was laced with concern.

“she’s fine, just a bit tired.” jay’s voice was soft spoken. 

eyes darting you, waiting for a confirmation.

“yeah.” you smile, his grip on your waist tightens. 

maybe he should take you on a date and probably make it up to you since your legs are going to be sore for the next few days. 

but he doesn’t regret a thing.

lolli's notes ⋆⭒˚｡⋆  he definitely would talk you through it. i love this man, he’s so handsome. this shit took a while but it’s finally done! hope y’all enjoyed this one!

[sunghoon-cam]

innocent reader x freaky jake por favor

NO I MEANT-

your childhood best friend is persistent. like. wayyyy too persistent.

innocent reader x childhood bsf-ish jake! jay is readers bro! innocent until later on.. this is lowkey funny bc i am never serious

perms!

@nikiswifiee @ancnymcnzjy @ja4hyvn @17ericas @hoonieyun @jellyluv4eva @wheretheheckis-ssaki @hyukabeanie @gxwesn @tojiworshipper @wonuziex @jaerisdiction @luhvletters @hoon2f4ded @enhanoa @ikeu05 @tokkisluv @ijustwannareadstuff20 @p--j--s--j

[sunghoon-cam]

s.jy — save a horse.

SUMMARY: showing up to a concert in a skimpy outfit with the sole intent to get backstage might just be the most delusional act you've ever committed. except it works, and when the opportunity presents itself in a hushed proposal that only you can hear, the long flight to houston, texas doesn't seem useless, after all.

TLDR: save a horse, ride jake sim.

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

ꨄ︎: heyyy everybody 🙃 this fic was anonymously requested to follow in the footsteps of non-disclosure! figured i'd put my own twist on it, because i have this thing for a man in a cowboy hat...and like, also jake. so like when he wears them...can you blame a girl for going insane???? aaaanyway, i hope you guys like seeing what my wet dreams look like 💔 enjoy, and as always, happy reading! xo

TAGS: smut, (semi) protected sex, you'll see what i mean by that, oral (f receiving), (semi) public sex, fingering, (minimal) dirty talk, jake is like, big, like she's stuffed, riding, jake's in a cowboy hat, reader is lowkey crazy lowkey me, she's delusional but it works so like is she though, experienced reader, jake calls her cowgirl, creampie

♫ — save a horse, ride a cowboy.

Eyes on the prize.

Follow that, and you’ll get whatever you want. You’ve done it since you were a kid, and you can safely say that it’s worked, for the most part.

Tonight, the prize was Jake Sim. And, well—you won it.

You traveled to see ENHYPEN in Houston, because you wanted—no, needed to see him in those goddamned cowboy hats. So what if you like a man in a cowboy hat? God forbid a girl has hobbies.

You decided to bring one yourself. Decorate it with gems, bedazzle the letters S.JY on it, so everyone would know it was for him. Handwrite ‘Save a Horse’ on the inside just in case he cared to look. And you? You’d wear the exact matching outfit to it and hope that it would be enough to catch his attention. You’re entirely aware that you’re good-looking, so why not take advantage of that in the only way you know how?

Flaunt it.

Black, leather cutout pants. A cow print top with attached lace straps that leaves almost nothing to the imagination. White pumps. You’re confident—perhaps even too much with the number of dirty looks you received when you arrived. But you didn’t care then, and you especially don’t now, standing at sendoff with him in front of you, practically undressing you with his eyes and making his best effort not to be obvious.

He wore the hat on stage, kissed it. Tossed it back to you. You gladly hand it to him again at the barricade when he asks. He studies it, reads the inside, bites his lip so discreetly that nobody even notices. When he looks back up, he studies you, if only for a moment, before he has to move on. Mouths you want to? and watches as you respond with a nod. And this time, he doesn’t give it back. Keeps it on his head when he walks to the other people around you, mumbles something incoherent to the guard behind him, and makes his way down the line.

You don’t think much of it until someone pulls you aside, and you turn to make eye contact with the guard from earlier. The look he gives you is telling, and when you return a confirming glance, he knows he doesn’t have to speak for you to put two and two together.

In short, you’ve come out the other end victorious. Now you have to retrieve the prize with more courage than you’ve ever needed.

The guard drops you at Jake’s dressing room and leaves faster than you can process. His demeanor the whole time suggested that he wants nothing to do with what Jake does behind closed doors, and he’s likely the one who always has to deal with it.

Your knuckles gently knock against the door, which you determine to be freshly painted and lacquered. You wait for a response, something to invite you inside, but instead, the door swings open, and you’re met with him.

Sim Jaeyun, in all his glory, his presence reserved for you only, with no other fans around to distract him. His smile is smug—confident, but not cocky, though he seems aware of the obvious dynamic between you two.

Still, you front a matching smile and walk in, although he gave no instruction. And from that, he knows he chose correctly. He likes you—the confidence in your stride, how you’re so sure of yourself, even when he hasn't given any indication that he’ll humor you. Your lips stretch into a grin when you catch a fleeting glimpse of his expression; he’s amused, and you’re proud.

“You know,” you finally break the silence, planting your ass on the nearest surface, which just so happens to be the back of the small sofa that sits in the middle of the room. “My mom always told me to go after what I want. Eyes on the prize, and you’ll get it. Isn’t that funny how things work out?”

He laughs. “You have a lot of confidence for someone who I could kick out with the snap of a finger.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but something tells me you wouldn’t do that, considering you and I both know why I’m sitting here,” you counter, crossing one leg over the other. “And I don’t think I have to be Sherlock to figure that out.”

He walks over, taking slow, calculated strides as he sizes you up. Motions you to stand with a curt jerk of his head, and you obey, standing before him, bodies but a few inches apart. You see the gears turning in his head, watch as his eyes lose focus and study your figure, mostly exposed from the sluttiest outfit you could conjure up.

“You got a name, Cowgirl?”

In his hand sits a piece of paper that you’re all too familiar with.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you retaliate, folding your arms.

He holds the paper out to you, along with a black pen. You take the pen, skim the page just enough to get the gist—it’s not like you don’t already know what it’s asking, or really demanding, of you. His signature’s already there. You scribble a lazy version of yours on the line and give him back the pen. He sets them aside. Deal’s made.

His hands perch on each side of your torso, finding purchase on your hips as he draws you closer, letting you feel his breath on your face when he exhales. He only remains this close, never more, not offering a release of tension with a kiss. He studies, looks through you, and decides how he’s going to have you because he’d be damned to give a choice to someone with your attitude.

He takes tentative steps forward, watching you catch on and move back to accommodate until the backs of your knees make sudden contact with an unfamiliar wooden surface that you quickly identify to be the vanity. He lifts you, and you assist him as best as you can, letting him place you atop the (semi) flat surface. It’s not all that stable.

“Kinda wobbly, don’t you think?” you point out with a raise of your brow.

“You won’t be here for long,” he replies with what you can only assume is attempted reassurance, and though it doesn’t quite serve its purpose, you guess it’ll do.

It doesn’t seem to matter when his lips find the soft skin just below your jawline, peppering kisses along it and down the column of your throat. You flatten your palms on each side of you and tilt your head to give him better access. Soft and warm, his mouth focuses on the place where your shoulder meets your neck, quick to locate the sweet spot there and coaxing a gentle moan from your parted lips, the sound like music to his ears.

His touch is at first reverent, worshipping your body, its curves and crevices, the thin clothes that inhabit it, and the warm, exposed skin he knows is only on display for him. His fingers glide along your side, studying your figure and committing it to memory, for later, he’ll need it. But for now, his hand dips lower and reaches the waistband of the useless shorts you opted for.

When he unzips them, you sit back, letting him slide them down your legs and lift one at a time to get them off. It leaves your lower half clad in only cutout pants and a pair of black lace panties, ones you chose to wear tonight with intent, accompanied by the matching bra that’s built into your top.

His fingers toy with the fabric, and he smiles when he looks down, admiring the sight. Then, his eyes are back on yours, gaze dark, but not daunting. Determined.

“These for me?” he asks, fingers dancing along the lace, and you offer a grin.

He seems pleased enough by that, if the immediate sinking to his knees in front of you is anything to go by. The smile on his face widens when he notices how wet you’ve become in such little time. You feel a little sheepish due to the obvious reason you’re like this already, but you figure it doesn’t matter in the long run. His finger hooks in the waistband, and his eyes trail up to yours, looking at you almost innocently, like a small dog.

“May I?”

You nod, and he pulls them down, letting you kick them off before peppering tiny, worshipping kisses along your inner thighs. He trails them up further until he reaches the exposed skin where the panties previously lay, and you feel his breath fanning against the skin, damp and inviting. Anticipating. His fingers pry your thighs further open. Let him slip between them.

The first touch is a slow, deliberate lick, parting you and collecting the slick on his tongue, a test of the waters to gather your taste and gauge your reaction. It coaxes a gentle moan, almost a whimper, from you, and your arms stiffen, hands digging into the vanity for stability.

Then, he’s kissing it. Slow, languid ones, almost teasing, yet it’s as if he’s still trying to gauge you. His lips find your clit and draw it into his mouth, sucking gently at first, then applying pressure on it with his tongue. He earns another moan, even gives off one of his own that vibrates against your skin. His intensity heightens when he licks again, picking up the pace only slightly, but adding more pressure and letting you feel his tongue against every bit of skin you have to offer. Your hips chase the feeling, rolling against him, his nose gliding between your folds with every movement.

A trail of spit leaves his mouth and lands on the soft skin beneath it. You gasp, the wetness cold to the touch, and suddenly, his fingertips are spreading it around.

It’s when his finger nudges inside, the slide made easy from the mixture of your arousal and his spit, that it becomes more than gentle caresses. He starts somewhat slow in the beginning, but the pace almost instantly becomes near relentless, teeth grazing your sensitive skin and pulling more breathy groans from your throat, needy and desperate, but ringing deliciously in his ears. Your hand snakes into his jet black hair, silky smooth under your fingertips when you fist it, keeping him closer, and you feel the pull of his lips into a smile against your skin.

He adds another finger and pushes them deeper, harder than before. Scissors them while inside to stretch you out, curls them to hit places that make you squirm and force him to hold you down. All the while, his mouth works at your clit, adding and removing pressure, sucking, doing whatever he sees fit to bring you towards your peak. He’s enjoying it all the same, speeding up as he becomes more desperate himself, mumbling nonsense into your skin, strings of you taste so good and various profanities that are just barely able to be deciphered.

You finally cry out, the noise too strained and broken to be considered a moan, and clench around his fingers, coating them in white. As he continues to work on you, prolonging the sensation, the warm liquid begins to drip down the sides of his pistoning fingers, eventually reaching the crevices between them. He finally pulls them out, drawing a whine, and stands up carefully. You watch as he brings them into the light, glistening and thickly coated, and cleans them with his tongue, the grin on his face unmistakable.

Before you have time to recoup, his hands are sliding beneath your ass and hoisting you up. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist—a little weak now, but you have enough strength to stay in place. With one arm holding you up and yours loose around his neck, he uses the other to sift through the duffel bag that sits on the coffee table, roughly pulling something out and stuffing it into his pocket.

Finally, he sits on the small sofa, letting you straddle his waist, and he breathes out, resting his hands on your hips, still bare beneath your waist, save for the pants that don’t serve as such.

“Still gonna hide that name from me?”

You look up, pretending to ponder his question, and return your gaze to him. “Yep.”

He laughs, “Why?”

“Gotta keep you guessing somehow,” you smile sweetly, subconsciously rolling your hips in anticipation. And he feels it, shooting blood straight to his dick, already hard, yet worsening with each fleeting second. But he offers an eye roll in response, paired with a laugh that sounds a little too pained to be sincere.

“Fine, then,” he replies, leaning over to grab the hat you gave him earlier and holding it up in front of you. “Saw what you wrote in here,” he says, his thick Brisbane accent suddenly sounding smooth as velvet. “You offered. You gonna keep to your word?”

“Gladly.”

His lips curve into a smirk as he places the hat atop his head, tipping it up just enough to see you from beneath the brim. Your fingers tactfully unzip his hoodie, worn as a part of their final stage outfits and now hanging open, exposing the lack of clothing beneath it. Soft, toned abs stare back at you, shining just slightly in the light from the sweat that must have formed over time.

You run a hand along his torso, from his stomach up to his chest, then slowly back down, discarding his belt and hooking your fingers in his jeans with one fluid motion. Your thumb loosens the button with ease. You’re more experienced than he probably accounted for, and it makes things easier for him, allowing him to sit back leisurely and let you do the work. Taking an educated guess, you stick your hand in his pocket to pull out what you can only assume is a condom that he shoved in there before. Your guess is right.

Within twenty-five seconds (give or take), you’ve managed to rid him of the jeans and boxers beneath, getting them down his knees enough for them to pool at his feet. You knew he was big because the tent he pitched in his pants was freaking massive, but even you hadn’t expected this, painfully hard and already leaking with pre-cum. Your thumb brushes the tip and collects the warm droplets on it so you can have your turn getting a taste, and it proves to be delicious, although it’s not something you’re inherently surprised by.

He watches it all, eyes glazed over, gaze dark. Anticipation clouding his features, his fingers pressing deep into your sides, skin on full display because you really pushed the venue’s dress code to its limits with that goddamned outfit.

Once you’ve finally secured the condom on, he wastes no time adjusting your position and sheathing you on his cock, drawing an elongated moan from you that he matches soon after. Based on the experience you seem to have, he didn’t assume you’d be so tight, but here you are practically fucking squeezing him like a constrictor around some poor guy’s neck. No matter how primed he thought you were, it doesn’t seem to have worked.

God, have you only slept with guys that have fucking micropenises?

Meanwhile, you’re already a mess on top of him, breaths coming out in waves as you try to adjust. Eyes squeezed shut, palms squeezing his shoulders under the hoodie, because they somehow ended up there, and, well—you’re clenching.

“Jesus Christ,” he groans. “You’re tight.”

“You’re big,” you retort, rolling your eyes yet gripping him tighter.

He bites his lip and nudges your hips, urging you to stop talking and start keeping to that promise you made. “Come on, Cowgirl,” he all but whispers, “let’s see what you’ve got.”

So you start to move. Slow at first, because God only knows you’d snap in fucking half if you did the opposite. But fuck, he feels good, even at the stupidly crawling pace and with the condom separating you from him. You feel him, fucking feel every inch of him from whatever angle he perfectly managed.

It’s tantalizing. It’s embarrassing how frequent the noises spilling from your mouth have become in a matter of minutes. How stupidly hot he looks in that godforsaken hat you basically put on his head in the first place. His teeth still dig into his lip; you swear he’ll draw fucking blood at this rate. But hey—at least you know you’re doing your part, and damn good, at that.

You slide a hand down his front again. More sweat has beaded since earlier. You let your palm sit atop his abdomen, tense, hot to the touch. He groans, and fuck, if you’ve ever heard anything so profoundly filthy. And your moans don’t even sound familiar to you. Whatever noises he’s managing to pull from you are the first of your bloodline.

His hips are bucking. He’s growing out of the slow bullshit. You’re more than willing to give that to him.

So you speed up. You’ve gotten used to him, the length, the sheer thickness that feels like you’re stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey. You’re in your groove—the one you’re almost always in instantly, yet it took much, much longer to reach that point of strength with Jake.

Perhaps you’re not as tough as you thought. Or maybe the guys you’ve slept with just fucking suck.

But you won’t let him know that.

It’s faster, harder, his hands are moving all over you like they can’t find a place to stay. You whine when he takes a handful of your breast into his hand, already sensitive, the other back on your waist, tightly gripping it like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t.

“Fuck this,” you huff, tearing the tube top off entirely and throwing it away irritably. And then his hand is back, gripping, teasing, kneading, making sure you feel every touch.

Strands of hair are starting to stick to your sweat-slicked forehead. Your mascara’s reached the middle of your cheek. The red lipstick has smudged itself to oblivion and isn’t even noticeable anymore. And your moans? They sound fucking wrecked. You’re babbling almost nonsensical words and phrases—a mixture of pleas and yelps of his name, which has left your mouth so many times that someone would think it’s some sort of prayer if they didn’t know any better.

In short, you’re a mess.

Which gives Jake the perfect opportunity to lift the hat from his head and place it on yours. God, and the look on his face when you just sit there and accept it, taking on the role and being determined not to do otherwise.

You can’t tell if you’re grinding or bouncing on it anymore with the adrenaline rush, the overwhelming sensation, and the obscene sounds it’s creating. Sometimes it’s skin slapping, sometimes the squelch of the sheer wetness being fucked in and out of you, and mainly the loud moans mixing and reverberating around the room like it’s a damn porno.

If you heard someone else being fucked this good, you’d probably think it was.

“That’s it,” he encourages, eyes honed in on the place you’re connected, watching his cock disappear into you repeatedly with each grind of your hips. His expression is a constant display of tension with his bottom lip pushed out just enough to be considered a pout, and you’d typically find it in you to point it out but with the nonstop surges of pain and pleasure shooting through you like a lightning bolt, you don’t really care that he’s getting off on your weakness.

The first push of his hips to meet yours hurts. Really in a good way, but still.

Now he’s hitting that spot. You’re not just crying out anymore—you’re actually in tears. They’re pricking at the corners of your eyes, rolling down your cheeks, bringing more of that smudged mascara right down with them. You look even filthier than before, and he’s eating it up, loving how disoriented he can make you look, despite the confidence you once strode in here with.

God, if he bites his lip one more time, you swear you’ll rip it clean fucking off.

But even in his expression, you can see the mental turmoil, the need for more—to cross a boundary you’re not sure he ever has in this particular situation. And to your surprise, he actually fucking does.

In one motion, he discards the hat by practically shoving it off your head, brings his hand to the nape of your neck, and yanks you towards him, lips crashing into yours in a hungry kiss.

There’s no hesitation. No gentle quality to it, if at all possible. It says everything it needs to without words, a transparent release of tension and desperation as any remaining shred of resistance fades away in the blink of an eye. His tongue is already dragging along your teeth, licking into your mouth with no warning and familiarizing itself with the spanse of it. The sheer intensity and deliberateness of it prove that he’s crossed the line he so carefully constructed all that time ago, because it would be ridiculous and totally fucking irresponsible to let that realm of intimacy be entered with someone who worships the ground he walks on and could get attached so easily.

Yet here he is, devouring your mouth with his because he clearly underestimated his weakness in this situation and decided you seem to have a decent enough head above your shoulders, and honestly, even if you didn’t, he’d probably have to convince himself otherwise because you’re fluttering around him, and he needs this to take his mind off of that, and you really have no clue at all.

You moan into the kiss and let it vibrate against his pillow-soft lips, feel him pushing you impossibly closer from the nape of your neck. Your hand, not sure what to do, slides into his hair all the same, tugging and curling into the messy, black strands with an intensity even you aren’t so familiar with yourself. It’s not enough. You need more.

You’re not quite sure what washes over you when you break away, only to lift your hips and reach between you to remove the condom altogether.

“Are you sure?” he asks, but you’re already slamming back down into his lap before he can even finish the question.

The slide is anything but easy, causing a wave of pain to shoot through your body, and you moan at the feeling like some sort of freak that gets off on it. Though maybe it could fall under the umbrella of ‘hurts so good’, because he’s thicker and hotter and pulsating, and you can feel all of it.

So much for those useless fucking boundaries. He set two, and his half-baked, debilitated ass discarded one himself and didn’t as much as protest to breaking the other. He is far too gone for that and at this point can only hope you’ve taken your own precautions because he’s not pulling out and he’s sure as fuck not going to stop now.

“What the hell are you doing to me?” he wonders out loud, and it only serves to make you grip him harder, pull yourself closer, sink further down. “Fuck,” he rasps, and your stomach curls.

You’re not really doing much work anymore when he starts fucking up into you, clouding every last sense. You hear his breathy groans, see the desire in his gaze between each kiss, taste him on your tongue, smell the raw air around you.

And fuck, do you feel him.

It’s not pretty, and it’s not calculated—it’s impulsive and reckless and full of want, dripping with it, despite how you’ve both been there, done that upwards of a hundred times. Yet still, it goes and will stay unspoken that both of you have proved yourselves to be different than your predecessors.

“Jake,” you moan weakly into his mouth as his hips continue to drive into yours, almost fucking you dumb because his name and yes are the only two things you’ve been able to properly choke out.

And finally, his hand moves to your clit, connecting with his pelvis with each disgustingly painful thrust, and rubs it with consummate precision that forces a choked-out cry.

As he keeps going, bringing you closer and closer to your release, his lips move again to your jaw. He kisses along your jawline and moves down your neck, finding that same spot from earlier and kissing the sensitive, marked skin like his life depends on it. The combination of that, his hand on your clit, the way he mumbles ‘come for me’ into your skin like a mantra, and the tip of his cock driving repeatedly into your sweet spot is enough to finally bring your orgasm to fruition.

It washes over you in a wave that forces a guttural noise from your throat, so loud and obvious that it would’ve been sure to bleed through the walls had he not decided last-minute to envelope your mouth with his again. He swallows every last moan, lets out one of his own as you completely unravel above him, nails forcing crescent-shaped marks into the golden skin they rest on. And still, he’s working you through it, milking every last drop from you and prolonging the sensation for as long as your body can withstand it.

As if it wasn’t tight enough, you’re practically strangling him now. Needless to say, it’s enough to bring him right along with you.

The noise that he makes is absolutely fucking obscene. And a string of incoherent praise follows in the form of a rasp that sends a shiver down your spine.

At first, you felt a pang of apprehension when he went in raw (albeit by your request), but the sheer feel of him in his entirety, warm and velvety and every inch without restraint? Yeah, it didn’t seem to matter anymore after that.

Besides, it’s not like you were actually stupid enough to show up completely unprepared for that possibility.

And it surely doesn’t matter now—not with the sensation that comes with him spilling into you, hot, white ropes decorating your walls like they’re a sacred painting. It feels so good and soars entirely above any other time you’ve had some guy finish inside (and it’s not many), because nothing, and you mean nothing, will compare to the feeling of Jake Sim fucking the mixture of his and your cum back into you until you’re both spent.

Then, stillness.

“Shit,” he whispers when a few warm droplets hit his bare thigh, a reminder of his blatant ignorance.

Your head rests on his shoulder, half-bare from the sweatshirt that has managed to slip off a little. You breathe in harmony, setting a pattern with him as you match one another, letting the sound hang in the space between you. It’s silent save for that and the faint back and forth of crew members outside the door that separates this closed-off world you’ve conjured up from reality. It’s now that realization hits, and you process who you’re on top of, who you’ve just let finish inside you with almost no forethought, and who made you feel higher than you’ve ever felt in your life, despite the body count that you’re not so sure you’re proud of anymore, seeing as it clearly lacks any sort of substance.

He’s bigger than all of them, better than all of them, and worst of all, more unattainable than all of them combined.

“Not so bad, Cowgirl,” he murmurs, fingers tracing gentle lines along your back.

“…It’s Y/N,” you whisper back, breathing softly against him. A quiet chuckle falls from his lips, and for the first time, he gives a smile that lacks its usual smugness.

There’s something beyond the surface of his gaze that sticks out to you, screams that you’ll be someone he remembers for a long time. A precedent you hoped to set when you first walked into this room. And now you almost wish you could backtrack, because he’s not the only one experiencing this feeling. Hell, you let him get away with things you typically have too much pride for, or at least…one thing in particular. The warmth still resides in your stomach to keep that decision fresh in your mind. Yeah, choosing to come back here probably wasn’t one of the smarter choices you’ve made. Yet still, you return the smile with a glint of softness in your eyes.

You suppose you won’t forget him, either.

— © jaeyundazed 2025.

[sunghoon-cam]

HELLO??

his back. his arm. the muscles.

[sunghoon-cam]

⚝ DAY 9 — HE'S A VIRGIN

kinktober 2024. — masterlist | ao3

— including. — diluc, capitano, xiao, alhaitham

— warnings. — fem! reader, virgin genshin men, inexperienced af, pussy drunk, established relationship, they're kinda whiny

⚝ — DILUC

diluc's desire to feel you for the first time became a confession, touched by a form of surrender— you see, he wasn't simply aroused— no, he was devastated by wanting, exiled from himself by the unbearable mercy of being allowed to want at all and now, wow, as you laid on top of him with his dick tightly pressed between your soaked folds, his dreams of losing his virginity to you may finally come true.

"c-can i touch you there?" but he's nervous, very much so, and slightly embarrassed too, he asks it like a man asking for absolution, his voice a faltering ruin, each word shuddering out of him as if it were a sin to be spoken aloud, "here?" you coo back as you silently wiggle your hips against his erection while slanting down so your tits would squeeze against his exposed, glistening chest.

"y-yeah, fuuck— right there," his breath staggers in his chest, a rhythm broken and uneven, the shame of his own desire rolling through him like a sickness, and yet he wants, archons, he wants.

not with the wildness of instinct, but with the slow, torturous need of someone who has denied himself for too long— someone who thinks he might disintegrate if he were to feel your sopping cunt for the first time tonight, how you'd clench around him might make him lose his mind or if you were to tighten up and trap him in a torturous, yet equally delirious milking compression until you've sucked him dry of all he had.

you willfully grant diluc's wish as you let his tip in for the first time, to test the waters, yes, to see how he'd react the moment your wet heat would finally engulf his head in endless lust and love.

he’s never been touched like that before, not like this, not skin to skin, not soul to soul.

and now, he's got his dick halfway in like a temptation draped in warmth, the presence of your walls melting around him unbearable in its mercy as the nearness of your slippery warmth feels obscene, or, somewhat, divine.

perhaps even both.

you guide his hand to your hips as you move up and down up and down, your pussy squelching as he gasps out in realization— quiet, strangled— and when he finally makes contact with your sweet spots deep inside, something in him fractures.

not the lust that was exploding within him, something older, something buried, yet his eyes squeeze shut at last as his lips part with a sound that might be relief, or might be agony due to the fact that in all honesty— if it wasn't for his immense self control, he would've already emptied his seed into the deepest depths of your cunt.

you begin to ride him crueler, obscene sounds of wetness accentuating the room as diluc's face exposes the truth— and fuck, his angel face and thick dick made it impossible for you not to become simply flustered while looking at his slacked jaw— it’s a battlefield between restraint and longing, a map of a man quietly coming undone.

and it's your fault, your doing.

his lips were parted, soft and wet from breathing too hard as his throat works visibly when you ride him harder, greedier, grinding your pussy back and forth his pretty dick as your hands comfort his face, allowing him to melt into your touch.

he's slowly adjusting and becoming better at this, stealing a couple thrusts from you as he fucks into you like a madman, his brows drawing tight in a furrow of helplessness when he couldn't stop his hips from pounding into your pussy over and over— being entranced by how good you felt, how warm and wet and soft your pussy felt and fuck, please make this never stop, okay? you must promise diluc for it to never stop.

⚝ — CAPITANO

capitano wasn't a wordy man, nor was he showy man either— but the weight of him was unbearable, his memories and his past— and in the way he touches you, it's like he's memorizing ruin, "tell me if this is too much for you," you tease him while adjusting his cock head with your hole.

he towers above you wide and manly, with his breathing barely cutting through the air— it's low, raw, "you better tell me," and capitano responds with this not because he doubts your inability to tell him if he'd accidentally hurt you, rather because he does not trust himself.

not with the way you feel under him already, not with how tightly he's gripping the sheets beneath his gloves like they’re the only things keeping him from sinning even more. your legs are wrapped around his waist as you urge him to make him move inside with the heels of your feet digging into his back.

but the harbinger doesn't move, he hasn’t even touched you yet— not even your pretty tits which were so deliciously splayed out for him to play with, maybe fondle and even suckle on.

not yet, at least.

because you see, capitano waits, suffers, he sits in silence, body thrumming with a thousand restrained urges, every muscle in him coiling like a beast biting down on its own tongue as for the first time, his mask was off in front of another human— for once, it's off— and his face was a furnace with sweat trailing down his temples, sliding into the strong line of his jaw, vanishing into the shadows of his throat.

his lips were parted, breathing shallow, chest rising too fast when he finally moves himself inside, his eyes closed at the pleasure surging through his body, the tightness of your cunt squeezing him and fuck— you see it now, all of it in his eyes, and how they do not flicker, they devour.

he eats your soul and frame with his manliness— like you feel so good he can’t believe you’re actually real and that your pussy feels so soft and warm around his girthy cock and how easy it was for him to slip himself into your leaky hole, pushing through the tight constriction and even worse?

he’s allowed to look, touch and kiss you, fuck you the entire night, because you just trust him like that.

when his hips roll forward, just once, the low sounds he made were nearly silent— but you feel it, vibrating in your own chest as his hands twitched where they lied useless, heavy on the bed when he took your wrists to press his palms into your skin.

capitano clutches to you as he fucks you harder, his touch being impossibly gentle in clear contrast with his cock being undeniably ruthless on your cunt, moving his hips in a fast rhythm with yours as his chest grinds against your erected nipples. 

he lowers his head and presses his forehead to your sternum, his breathing hot and shaking— and when he finally speaks to you while being balls deep inside, it wasn't a plea, no, instead it was a confession carved out of his own ribs.

"i’ve dreamt of this," he admits bluntly, voice hoarse, almost ruined, "but not even my mind was cruel enough to make it feel like this." he groans out when you squeeze him tight and kiss his lips soft—and you feel his mouth against you fully now, lips trembling, as if even kissing you here was more than he deserved.

⚝ — XIAO

xiao wasn't comfortable with showing his need, more so was he terrified of softness between him and another person, no matter how long you two have been dating already— so when he lets himself feel it for the first time— when he asks, of course— it felt corrupting.

and still, he wanted it.

you could feel the tremble in him, in not just his limbs, but in the whole frame of his as the man was coming apart under the weight of your gentleness.

he touches your hips first, then slowly slides over your chest to cradle your tits like he doesn’t believe he’s actually allowed to do all of this— and by the way he worships you, it's like xiao believed your skin might vanish if he didn't fondle you enough.

"are you sure about this xiao?" the question wasn't bold nor pleading, you didn't want to overstep any of his boundaries or make him uncomfortable with anything which was going on tonight.

he retorts back almost immediately, "are you sure?" and it slips from his mouth barely formed, half-crushed under the weight of shame— was he taking it too fast now? why was he suddenly so excited about it, even more than before.

truth was— sometimes when you weren't looking, he would imagine it, you know, whether he wanted to touch you, or to be touched by you, or simply to be allowed between your legs with his face squeezed beyond oblivion, all of it, maybe, all at once.

xiao's face was feverish with color— high, unnatural blotches of red across his pale skin, as though desire itself offended him, as though it’s a sickness he’s been taught to fear and when you lower your hand to palm his tip, his lips immediately part— wet with shallow breathing and a fine sheen of sweat collected at his temples, sliding in fragile lines down the slope of his throat.

you reach for his length as he flinches— not away, but inward, like the gesture hurts, like the touch was too intimate to survive, and still, he lets you guide him with your hand slowly stroking his cock while his tip hovers over your pussy and leaks of pre, smearing the white slick over your glossy hole.

he breathes your name, once, twice— once more, like it’s a sin and a salvation, yet his eyes remain closed, brows drawn in quiet agony and when his hips involuntarily move against your hole— just barely— his body jerks into you, overcome by the intimacy, by the unbearable knowledge that this was real.

that you are real, beneath him, within reach.

his jaw clenches and he looks at you inexperienced and dewy-eyed— shame and hunger woven together as you kiss along his jaw, telling him to please not stop and fuck, he doesn’t want to stop either, doesn't want this to end but he's so scared of hurting you that it was slowly occupying his mind and soul.

but with you, it was different because you gave him reassurance, with you this wasn't just touch— this was permission, and it's undoing him as he slides himself in, his thick erection being swallowed by your needy hole as the proximity of your pussy engulfs around his dick when he pushes himself in entirely.

"don't…" he whispers nervously as he hides his face in the nook of your neck, eyes still shut tight, voice almost voiceless, "i don’t know what to do with this," he admits and you feel his fingers tighten in your hair, "it's okay xiao aah—" you whine and caress his back;

"i trust you," and archons, he needs you so bad, fuck, he doesn’t even give a damn about how embarrassing he might look or sound right now but this— oh, baby, you shouldn't have said this because now, a lewd mewl rumbles from deep inside his chest when he completely rocks into you with a rough roll of his hips— turning your walls sticky with cum, your slick sticking on his pubes and the movements of his hips which practically screamed insatiable desire.

⚝ — ALHAITHAM

everything alhaitham did was calculated— except this.

"i should be… studying this instead," the words leave him before he could even breath properly— he's a little sharp-edged, half-ironic, mostly desperate, yeah, he's right under you too, propped on his elbows, shirt open at the throat, that brilliant, infuriating mind of his faltering under the weight of your body above his— and yet he tries to keep it, in control, that last thread of composure, fraying faster than he can pretend to hold it.

his eyes— usually so piercing, clinical— are glassy now, narrowed not in skepticism but in helpless focus, fixed somewhere between your lips and the movement of your hips above him, not to mention your pussy slobbering all over his desperately hard dick. he's never felt something like this before and fuck, the moment he did, he's greedy and high on your cunt, more so from sheer overstimulation of what you've been doing to him.

or maybe from thinking too much, too fast, about all the things he's never let himself want.

a bead of sweat trails from his temple down into his hairline, absorbed by already-damp strands as his hand lifts to feel up your beautiful body— hesitant, not because he doesn't know what he’s doing, but because you’re not an equation, you're not a text he can analyze and understand.

you're unpredictable, yes and archons, it terrifies him.

you feel his hands guide you up and down, forcing his dick deeper than before and pretending like he knows what he's doing as his breath stutters almost imperceptible— almost, as small rolls of hips rock into your cunt which were precise first, yes— clinical, also yes, as if trying to learn you by feel, you know? by pressure and reaction.

yet his precision collapses quickly when you watch his mouth fall open just slightly as you squeeze him agonizingly hard, watch the corner of his lips twitch like he's suppressing a groan, smirk deviously when his brows knit as the sensation of your sticky walls began to override his understanding.

"i don't know what this is doing to me, fuck," he mutters— not to you, not even to himself to be honest, just aloud.

his voice began to turn strained due to excessive groaning, foreign in his throat as his fingers dig into the bouncy flesh of your ass— just a bit harder now, helping you bounce up and down his large erection as he studies you like he's drowning in you.

and when you shift your weight down, just enough for him to feel the heat of you flush and align, you see it, the unraveling, the moment alhaitham's intellect gave out and something primal began to move behind his eyes.

he's so pretty, ugh, it's unfair! and his dick being pressed into you so fucking deliciously was a feeling you got addicted to now— one that had saliva dribble through the sides of your lips, one that had your eyes glazed over in love and clit aching in need to be played with too.

everything was written across his face now, the sweat shining in the hollow of his throat, the part of his lips, the way he looks at you as you ride him hard, the smell in the air potent with the scent of his musk and sweat and cum— yet ah, alhaitham looked at you like you were the experiment and the thesis and the collapse of meaning altogether.

and at last, he abandons the hypothesis entirely.

©2025 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[sunghoon-cam]

I WANT YOU SO BAD .ᐟ.ᐟ

➤ I want you like.....really badly!

pairing ⨾ obsessed!leeheeseung x fem!reader warning ⨾ 18+, smut, mdni, he's too obsessed...,perv!heeseung, masturbation, cheating...i'm sorry y'all, unprotected sex, clothed sex, breeding, hung!heeseung lolli's notes ⨾ hey y'all...decided to write about heeseung.

"i can't stop thinking about you. your touch, taste — everything about you makes me go insane."

obsessed!heeseung⨾ he never believed in love at first sight but when you first entered the picture, that statement soon altered his entire view on love.

the first time you were introduced, he was hooked from the beginning. pure admiration glimmering in his hard focused stare. eyes were glued to you and only you. doesn't let a single distraction waver his view. he became entranced.

you were unreal, a divine being that made his heartbeat race uncontrollably. a literal goddess in his eyes.

he believed you were sculpted by his exact vision of the girl he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

but.

that moment was ruined when you linked your arms around another. and it had to be one of his close friends.

of course you were taken. a goddess like you had to be taken by someone. 

he’s never felt so jealous of someone in his entire life.

obsessed!heeseung⨾ jaw clenched, eyes darken with pure loathe. arms wrapped around your waist, clinging onto you like a leech. he could not handle seeing you with a man that wasn’t him.  

obsessed!heeseung⨾ there were many occasions that he would look for you. hangouts, parties — basically if he heard that you were going. he’s already there.

obsessed!heeseung⨾ slowly, he ended up becoming your personal bodyguard — without you knowing of course. whenever guys would linger their eyes in places that shouldn’t be looked at, he comes out of nowhere and shields you like the gentlemen he is. if you were cold, he’s abandoning his own health and giving his sweater to you without hesitation. he was doing a better job than your lame ass boyfriend.

your body trembles a bit, your hands touching your cold skin; trying to generate some form of heat but it was no use. his eyes glance towards you, rubbing your hands constantly against your arms. he takes off his sweater and drapes it over your shoulders. the weight of his sweater on you made you feel relaxed.  

you looked up to see heeseung, giving a heart warming smile.

“thank you.” you kindly accepted his offer. 

“no problem love.” his voice was gentle, soothing. 

love? 

why did he call you that?

huh – he probably was just being nice.

obsessed!heeseung⨾ who unfortunately witnessed constant arguments between you and your boyfriend.

his heart sinks at the sight. if you were his, it would never raise his voice at you or even show an ounce of anger.

obsessed!heeseung⨾ to him, you embodied an innocent, pure angel that didn’t have imperfections. so fragile, so sacred. he refused to let you face the dangers of reality.

obsessed!heeseung⨾ whenever he was invited to your place that you shared with your boyfriend, he would always look for you, waiting for you to come out even if it was for a split second.

he sits on the couch, the cushion sinking as his weight crushes the soft cotton. legs spread, eyes fixed on the screen, flickering lights reflecting on his face, shifting in between scenes as a slight dim filters his face.

creaks of hard wooden planks being heard as it enclosed with each step, finally revealing your figure. his eyes immediately turned to you.

there you were. 

a cute black silk nightgown with a small slit located near your left thigh as the delicate seams of lace embroidered outlined the hem of your dress. 

how was your own boyfriend not looking at you while you looked like this.

he felt his body tense, swallowing a huge lump in his throat as his gaze lingered on your delicate frame. the velvety material compliments your curves so well that the fabric outlines your figure like it was tailored by desire itself. every move, dip, arch, breath you take was traced by the rich texture. it was like you were teasing him, making him want to earn you. 

your eyes find his, giving him a small smile as you make your way to the kitchen. your smile sends a rising heat through his veins while his heart beats rapidly like it was going to explode. god what were you doing to him.

he sneakily glances in the direction you were heading to, you opened the fridge, trying to find something to consume. you bend slightly trying to rummage through as your dress was riding up your body, revealing your soft thighs. they look so soft – he wonders how he would look in between them. 

that arch. damn. your spine curved with grace as you slowly bent lower. your panties were making an appearance. he felt his heart stop. his mind was telling him to look away but he couldn’t, not when he sees you in this position. a part of him wants to get up and slowly approach you from behind while you bend over so he can feel your puffy ass against his crotch but – he could only wish. the thin fabric was barely covering your folds. they looked so plump like they were begging to be touched, tasted, fucked. 

he immediately looks away when you finally close the fridge and begin to walk towards his direction.  

he holds his breath when he feels you walk past him, he glances at you again watching you disappear from his view.  

this was pure torture, knowing that you were off limits.

obsessed!heeseung⨾ asks where the bathroom is but he wasn’t going to actually use the bathroom.

“go upstairs, down the hall to your right.” doesn’t even make eye contact as they were glued to the screen.

he makes his way upstairs, pretending to find the bathroom but instead searching for where your room is. 

score. 

the door was slightly open. he slowly approached the door, taking a peek. the room was dimly lit, clothes scattered on the floor like a pattern of shirts, bras, and pants making a trail across the room. he could hear the soft rustle of fabric and the occasional click of the hanger, indicating that you were engrossed in trying multiple outfits. 

you were standing in front of the full length mirror, holding two dresses in hand, simultaneously switching between the two as you hover it over your body, unsure of which one looked better. 

“i like that one, looks cute.” he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. 

you froze, startled by the sudden voice. you look through the mirror, only to see heeseung staring at you deeply while you were still holding the two dresses. 

you whip around, clutching the two dresses in your hand. “jeez heeseung! what are you doing here?” your voice was loud but changed into a quiet tone as you didn’t want to alert your boyfriend downstairs. 

“i was just passing by and saw the door was open.” he pushes off the doorframe. “couldn’t help but peek.” he approaches you.

you don’t know why but you didn’t even kick him out. a part of you felt it was wrong to let him in but another part wanted to see where this was going. 

he moves closer, placing himself behind as he was in full view. he was so close behind you, you could his breath. his hand reaches out, fingers brushing against yours as he guides one of the dresses from your hand and hovers over your body. “i think you should wear this one.” his voice, low, smooth. 

the tension felt heavy, thickens with a silent ache. you stand still, locking your eyes with his through the mirror. you felt small under his presence. a mixture of guilt and longing swarming your chest. you weren’t used to this feeling. 

it wasn’t just his closeness –  it’s the way he held his gaze through the reflection — unwavering, deliberate. he wasn’t focused on the dress; it was you.

“i mean.” he murmured. “i’m pretty sure he’ll love it, don’t ya think love…” he leans lower, levelled to your height. his breath brushes against the side of your neck. “if i were him, i would've ripped that dress off of you the moment i laid my eyes on you.”  

“bent you over and fucked you while you moan my name.” his words were laced with lust, a desire that you felt your pussy getting wet at his words. you hated that he had this effect on you that you couldn’t explain. this felt so wrong but a part of you wants to see where this desire unfolds. 

 your pulse was quickening. nerves bundled into knots as his words were affecting you. your breath hitching at his response. “heeseung…” you whisper, quiet like a breath. 

but. 

that was soon interrupted. 

soft muffles of chatter heard from downstairs, looks like more guests have arrived. he slowly backs away from you and releases his hand that was on top of yours, smirking as he proceeds to leave. he closes the door gently, leaving you with an aching pussy. 

let’s just say that you couldn’t get him out of your head, witnessing him confessing to you.

but why did his words affect you so much? 

obsessed!heeseung⨾ replays the image of you from that day. the way you were bent over when you were in the kitchen, the way he was so close behind you, practically his body would graze against yours from the slightest shift.

he gets hard, the more he thinks about it. 

on the bed, sprawled on his back while his mind was in a haze of drifted thoughts, thoughts of you from that day. so many unknown thoughts that were unanswered, where could the moment have gone if it wasn’t interrupted. would he finally get what he’s been craving for?

arm slung over his forehead, eyes closed as he imagines once again. he reiterates the encounter but instead, imagines what could’ve happened.

hands on each side of the mirror as you were bent over while his crotch was aligned with your entrance, pushing your panties to the side. 

he slowly pulls down his boxer, his cock twitching with eagerness

his precum smearing all over your hole, dripping with ecstasy. pumping in and out you slowly as you tried to hide your pretty moans.

“mmmp… .” he slowly teases the tip of his cock, thumb moving in circular motions before his fingers wrap around his length, slow, deliberate strokes as his breathing becomes shallow, chest rises and falls steadily, deeper.

he wishes it was you stroking him, bringing close to his climax. god just the thought of you makes him go insane. 

he needs you. 

needs to be buried inside you and be fucked like the good girl you are.

he knows you’d be so tight, your pussy clenching around him while your grip on his cock was literally intoxicating. 

“s-shit..” his pace quickens, muscles flexing as he strokes even harder, orgasm slowly approaching with each stroke. 

he’s getting close. 

chest rising and falling, quickly in uneven pants with soft moans escaping his parted lips.

“fuck!” teeth sinking into the flesh of his bottom lip, his free hand gripping the sheets while his knuckles were painted white from the pleasure that was overstimulating his mind.

splats of cum, releasing all over his chest, cock twitching as more oozes out of him. 

such a waste. all that cum that was all over him could have been buried deep inside you. 

obsessed!heeseung⨾ realizes that you’ve been avoiding him ever since that encounter. it was killing him that you never showed yourself around him anymore. he couldn’t take it.

a table, capacity of eight chairs. the clinking of glasses, soft chatters seaming around the room. the restaurant was a bit dark, the overhead lights cast soft yellow light painting through the ocean of people. you were sitting on the opposite side of heeseung, head hung low, avoiding eye contact with him. but he stares directly at you, those eyes, damn those eyes can kill someone. 

“babe, I’m going to head to the bathroom.” you quietly say.

he doesn’t even respond, just shoos you away with the motion of his hand.

you head to the bathroom, the door swings open as it automatically closes behind you. you look at yourself in the mirror, fluffing your hair as your locks tangle in between your fingers, fixing your dress that he picked from that day. you hear the door open but you assume it was someone who also needed to use the stalls until you hear the door lock, a sharp click jumbles the knob. you look through the reflection to see heeseung, back pressed against the door. 

your eyes widened with shock, whipping your head to face him. “heeseung what the fuck are you doing in the girl’s bat–”

“why are you avoiding me?” he interrupts you before you could finish your sentence.

“what..?” 

“i said — why are you avoiding me.” he kicks himself off the door, slowly approaching you.

his eyes burning straight into yours. he held his gaze like a wolf sneaking up on its prey. “i-i’m not avoiding you.” you swallowed hard, stuttering a bit as you tried to make up a good excuse while you fidget the fabric of your dress.  

a lie. a straight lie. 

he knows that you are lying to him but it was cute that you tried to.

“you’re a terrible liar.” he chuckles.

“well how do you know that i’m lying.” your voice was in a playful tone as you tried to keep your eyes straight on him. to be honest, you were struggling really bad.

“well, for starters — you always fidget with your clothes and always struggle to maintain eye contact.” he was getting close, dangerously close. your breathing was picking up, trying to back up but you couldn’t, the cold marble counter was against you, refusing to let you go anywhere.

“so — i’ll say it again, pretty girl.” his fingers brushing your chin as he tilts your head to look at him fully. “why are you avoiding me.”

you feel a heat creep up your cheeks, the way his gaze was locked on you like he was desperate. desperate for an answer. “i just — i couldn’t face you after what happened.”

“when i said i wanted to fuck you?” his eyes narrowing, fingers softly stroking the outline of your jaw. “i wasn’t lying sweetheart. i meant what i said.” a low growl, lustful, dark.

“y-you know we can’t.” 

“you say that but you could have kicked me out, stopped me from the beginning. could have told me to fuck off or slapped me in the face but you didn’t.” 

“unless…… you wanted this too.” your breath hitches as his free hand grabs your waist, pulling you closer. 

he was inches away. a slight move, your lips would be touching. you feel your heart pounding in your chest. you did want it. you kept replaying his confession every night. your mind drifted, thoughts of him filled every image like it was a whisper, an ache that settled in your chest. this was so wrong – thinking about another man without any shame.

his touch felt so addicting, the warmth settled on your skin, the kind you chase after it’s gone. the only humidity keeping you warm from a freezing cold night. 

“look, if you don’t want this, just push me away and i’ll stop.” 

he leans in closer, his hot breath fanning your lips. they softly crash against yours, slow and insistent. all the rushing thoughts slipped your mind as the contact of his lips sent you into a bliss. it was gentle, supple like a comforter. the hand that was gripping your chin, drifted down to your waist, handling you carefully with fragility. his lips were leaving a mark on your own. a memory, something to remember him by. it was like his lips were a trap. to draw you in and dangerous to let go of.

his mouth was devouring you, stealing your breath. every ounce of control that you had in your body was entangled by his own that he had over you. he pulled away for a second, looking at you: unstable pants, eyes half lidded like you were drunk. he smirks, loving every second. 

suddenly, he carries you and places you on the counter, plopping you down with ease. he kisses along the crook of the neck, trailing to your collarbone as his finger hooks on the strap of your dress, letting them fall gracefully along your shoulder. soft, angelic moans slip past your parted lips as he continues to pamper you. “hee…” your hands lightly grip his hair. 

he couldn’t wait anymore. 

“s-shit baby, you look so sexy.” his lips leave your body, he places his hand under your thighs, tugging gently, bringing you closer to the edge of the counter as he fondles with the buckle of his belt. your back makes contact with the cold counter, making you jolt.  he lifts the hem of your dress slightly, revealing your thong. simple yet it was enticing. he carefully peels the fabric from you, lightly grazing the outline of your legs as they were no longer on your body. your pussy was sensitive as the cold breeze was swiftly blowing past your parts while they ached in response. you feel him in between your legs as he reveals his cock. 

he was huge. his erection was poking your hole, begging to be let in. he teases your entrance, precum coating the tip. you whimpered underneath him, a silent cry of desperation as his gaze was full of hunger, ready to dive in. slowly and steadily, he inserts it in. he hisses from your hole clenching around him. you were so tight, tighter than he imagined. you let out a breathy gasp, lips pressed together while your eyes roll back. 

he sets a gentle pace, your body shifting in motion as the rhythm of his hips bucked into you slowly. you felt so good, better than he imagined. so many nights, thoughts filled of you, wondering how you looked under him, on top, from behind — now, he was finally able to feel you. his pace picks up almost immediately, slow, deep thrusts turned into rhythmic plunges. every thrust sends waves throughout your body, a tingling feeling jolts through your veins like a seismic shock. 

your body was betraying every word, every thought you’ve said. you knew this would jeopardize your relationship but your body was telling the exact opposite. you wanted this, deep down even if this ruins your love life. you’ve never felt cared for, not until he came into the picture. “god you feel better than i imagined.” he hisses.

“imagined?"

“every night, i think about you — especially that day.” he chuckles. he puts your legs on his shoulders, digging deeper into you. “wanting to fuck you into the mattress while your boyfriend was downstairs, not knowing that sweet girlfriend is getting fucked so good.” the palm of his hand presses against your stomach, the bulge poking through with every thrust. he felt you clench at his words. “oh? you’d like that…such a naughty girl.” 

how was he making you feel like you were in heaven? a high that you desperately craved, an addiction that leaves you wanting more. your moans were getting louder by the second, echoing throughout the room. “hee— i’m g-getting close.” you whine. 

“cum for me. cum on my dick.” he growls. 

“f-fuck!” your eyes clenched shut, back arched. 

and then he came. 

a flow of his warm seed, swimming inside of you while he catches his breath. 

deep, heavy breaths escape your lips as you try to suck all the air you can, just to feel something — to regain your composure. he pulls himself out slowly, small doses leaking out of your hole. he smirks, taking in the sight.

as you finally regain your consciousness, you fix yourself as he did the same before you both head back out. you felt something was missing. confused, you look around trying to find your undergarment. 

“looking for these..?” his finger was hooked on your panties. “i think i’m gonna hold onto this.” giving you a smug smile. 

lolli's notes ⨾ i'm just gonna leave this here……..  

[sunghoon-cam]

DIRTY SECRETS — s.jy ␥ teaser ␥

what if you found love with your sister’s boyfriend. not a good idea right?

⤷ pairing ˗ˏˋ sister’s boyfriend!jake x inexperienced fem!reader ˎˊ˗

⤷ est. word count: 20k teaser wc: 837 words

genre: smut minors do not interact, sister’s boyfriend au, infidelity (but not actually though), p with plot, p with feelings, forbidden love, morally ambiguous characters

content warnings: dub-con, cheating, manipulation, jealousy, kissing, toxic family dynamics, toxicity, jay feature, marco polo pool game, unprotected sex, multiple sex scenes, p in v, praising, degradation, dirty talk, teasing, jake is pervy, groping, reader is oblivious and inexperienced, oral (f + m rec.), fingering, squirting, deep throating, face fucking, cum eating, breeding kink, corruption kink, creampie, handjobs, petnames (baby, babe, sweetheart, nasty girl)

— taglist: [open] send in ask or comment to be added —

‘Dear diary, I have a confession to make’

‘My sister’s boyfriend is fucking hot’

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 loudly as you squish the paper ball, your phone pinged and you glance 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 I’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 m 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”

——

[sunghoon-cam]

MAKE IT UP TO 450??????

𝒽𝑒𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓊𝓃𝑔 𝒻𝒾𝒸 𝓇𝑒𝒸𝑜 𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 𓇢𓆸

𐙚⋆.˚ fatal obsession

𐙚⋆.˚ spin the bottle

𐙚⋆.˚ i see you always forever

𐙚⋆.˚ pillow talk

𐙚⋆.˚ attention please !

𐙚⋆.˚ only if you say yes

𐙚⋆.˚ traces of you

𐙚⋆.˚ let’s collab

𐙚⋆.˚ sinking onto your ——

𐙚⋆.˚ the power play

MY SECOND TIME MAKING A LIST LOLL

sorry if it took long for me to upload this i had to cram my activities 😭👍

interactions, suggestions, and recommendations are appreciated! 🫶

[sunghoon-cam]

im still alive guys dont worry 😭💔💔

[sunghoon-cam]

Falling in love with your older brother’s best friend certainly wasn’t one of your summer resolutions.

Actually, meeting him wasn’t even part of your plans. But someday, you happened to have no other option than to appear unannounced at his little pottery shop in Seogwipo. A stray kitten in a pet carrier, asking for a place to stay, and you couldn’t help but do.

╰ a summer romance divided into two parts

PAIRING: older brother’s best friend!Jaeyun x fem!reader

WARNINGS (for this part): slow-burnish, mentions of alcohol and drugs, reader gets wasted once and Jaeyun has to take care of her, a lot of art references as he majored in fine arts, and usage of the pet name baby quite a lot

PART ONE｜18.3K｜STORY MASTERLIST

Phone calls from Park Jongseong had never been a good sign for Jake.

Jongseong hated phones, and in special — to make calls. Over the years that they had been friends, the option had only been initiated by him as the last recourse in the midst of the last recourses: the keypad of their old dormitory breaking and locking him out, his car running out of gasoline when the whole country had already gotten into recess for the Chuseok, a forgotten file that supposedly could save Jongseong from failing his last law semester and which made Jake run through half of the university campus despite of his doubts about the papers’ importance. And of course, the most unforgettable one: “call me back in five and pretend the dorm is on fire” when a blind date went particularly wrong.

But that was the problem of receiving so few phone calls from his best friend. It didn’t matter if Jake felt his shoulders stiffening as soon as he saw Jongseong’s name shining on his phone screen — he knew he needed to pick up.

It was almost noon when Jongseong called that day, the shop busier in a way that only happened with the beginning of summer — the vacation season never failing to bring an influx of tourists to Jeju and suddenly making everything a little bit more cluttered.

“Here’s the thing,” Jongseong said. It was such a classic Jongseong way to start a conversation. Dramatic, and with a hint of urgency that Jake knew all too well. “I need a favor.”

“Good morning to you too, Jay,” Jake started, immediately receiving a huff at the other end of the line. “I am awesome, thank you for asking. How about you?”

“I am serious,” he said. “Baby is giving me a headache and I need your help.”

“Your sister?” Jake demanded, his voice coming higher than he intended and catching a few customers’ attention.

Jake had never met you — not really. Everything he knew about you had been through these tiny pieces Jongseong gave through conversations. And although Jake was well aware that you had given your older brother a few hard moments as you always reached for him first whenever you needed help, Jake couldn’t imagine how he could be directly involved this time.

He turned around, his eyes focusing on the other side of the tempered glass. The sun was falling brightly on the town, and a myriad of bees hummed at the bushes on the other side of the street, the small insects enjoying the pinky-white blossoms that seemed to be disappearing as the summer kept settling on the island.

Down the street, Mrs. Choi seemed to be enjoying the beginning of the summer as well. She was sitting at a stool by the door of her small bakery as she often was, keeping a sharp eye on everything that passed, from people to wafts — well, whenever she wasn’t screaming at Euntaek — her troublemaker grandson, and whom people there only cared to call Mrs. Choi’s grandson with a sigh whenever he appeared around.

“She has been trying for this scholarship in the United States ever since she graduated high school, and now that she got it, out of nowhere, she decided to spend the summer in Jeju — alone. I want you to be her emergency contact,” Jongseong explained, catching Jake’s attention once again. “You are still living there, right? In your grandfather’s old house, and taking care of his pottery shop?”

It was a too practical way to describe the fact that Jake had almost run away to it — taking it as an inheritance when no one else wanted it, but he only hummed in agreement.

“But Seogwipo is in the extreme south of the island, depending on the area she-”

“I know. It’s just in any emergency case. It would take several hours for any of us to arrive at the island.”

“Fine,” Jake conceded. “But why — why did she choose Jeju?”

Honestly, there was no reason for you to choose Jeju aside from your desire to leave Korea’s mainland.

You had thought of Japan at first — being not even one hour and a half away by plane, the neighboring country seemed to be the best option. But you didn’t know anything about its language aside from the small vocabulary you acquired by too many hours watching Ghibli animations, and three months there seemed more stressful than having to deal with the whole expectation your family had been putting on your upcoming university life in the United States.

But then, someday you scrolled through a vacation website, and Jeju shone for you. 

It took fifteen minutes to convince your parents — an additional five to annoy your brother, but on the first day of summer, you took a flight to the Korean island and established yourself in a nice apartment downtown.

Yet, you had to admit, being alone wasn’t all that fun, especially with a landlord who seemed to prefer spending all his hours checking the security cameras rather than fixing your broken sink and had screamed at you for appearing with a stray kitten in the midst of a summer storm, a black furry thing that didn’t even have fifteen centimeters but seemed to bother him as a lynx would.

The nights were never quiet there and the city hardly slept, so instead of the soothing comfort you expected to find in it, you lay awake in your bed wondering if you had done something wrong.

And then, when the landlord argued that the cat left or you left, you had no second thought before packing your belongings and putting the cat in the pet carrier you had bought just a few hours prior almost as an omen.

You were too embarrassed to call your parents for help not even two weeks into your supposedly independent vacation — too proud to give Jongseong the proof you weren’t ready to be on your own, so you put Sim Jaeyun’s address on the maps app of your phone and took the next bus to the small town where he resided in, watching as the buildings disappeared and the fields of green tea turned boundlessly beneath the summer sun.

It took you exactly one hour and seven minutes to arrive at Seogwipo. With no transfers or changes, the bus stopped just a few streets away from Jaeyun’s address, a pretty road running along the South Sea, and which made it easy to stroll along the sidewalk. Nothing but the sound of your luggage against the pavement, and the waves, softly crashing against the basalt rocks.

The busiest part of Jeju had been left by the downtown, the tidy streets giving way to open roads and suddenly the hustling cities were part of another world — another reality. Even the skies seemed to acquire a new shade of blue here.

There wasn’t much through the path, a convenience store, a library, a tiny bakery where an old lady sat at a stool by its door-

“Do you need help?” she asked. Her accent was strong, pure Jeju dialect and you blinked at her, taking a moment too long to make sense of what she had just said.

You didn’t need help, honestly, your phone’s map seemed to be working just fine, but you felt bad about sounding impolite — especially in a place like Seogwipo seemed to be, so you smiled at her, immediately receiving the gesture back.

“I am searching for my brother’s friend’s house,” you said. “He supposedly lives on this street.”

“Tell me his name. I know everyone here.”

“Jaeyun — Sim Jaeyun.”

“Oh! Jake!” she exclaimed, suddenly clapping her chubby hands and startling you. “Yes, he lives straight ahead. I can ask my grandson to take you there.”

“No, it’s alright,” you broke in. “I don’t think it’s necessary.”

“Don’t worry. It’s not a long walk, but you are with luggage and-” she paused, her eyes falling on the pet carrier hanging on your shoulder. “A cat?”

You looked at it too, catching just the idea of an ear but, before you could answer, she was already leaning inside the bakery, filling her lungs and shouting: “Euntaek!”

Euntaek appeared at the door almost immediately, and if the old lady hadn’t told you he was her grandson it would have been impossible for you to notice their connection by yourself. They were the opposite in every way — where she was short and plump, he was tall, lanky, and with a mess of dark hair that could have been attractive to some other girl out there. But not you, especially because of how he paused then, his mouth curling in a smirk as soon as he caught sight of you.

“This is Euntaek,” she said as he stepped closer. “My grandson. He is always here over the summer, so if you need anything don’t hesitate to come to us and ask.”

“Just Taek,” he mended, leaning to your side. He smelled like a musky perfume that Jongseong would have advised him to keep to the cold seasons, altogether with a faint scent of tobacco. And you didn’t need to be a genius to guess what was in the box on the front pocket of his t-shirt.

“Stop playing around and take her to Jake’s shop,” the old lady demanded. He straightened himself at her words, looking ahead at the street as if he was suddenly confused, but he didn’t retort — didn’t reply, when he looked back at you he was smirking again as if he was very much satisfied with the situation.

“Give me your luggage,” he said. And you obeyed, partly because you thought it would be good for him to have something to put his attention aside from your presence, and partly because you were starting to feel tired.

Euntaek guided you through the street as the sun kept going down, your shadow stretching out so long that its edges were already blurring with the approaching night.

“Are you staying the whole summer?” he asked.

“No, I-” you paused. Being completely honest, you hadn’t thought of what would happen after speaking with your brother’s best friend. “I don’t know — probably not.”

“Well, it’s a good idea. You should stay in the city areas, nothing really happens on this side of the island.”

“It seems pretty nice to me,” you admitted.

Euntaek lifted a brow at you, his eyes twinkling with what you swore to be amusement. “Where are you from?”

“Seoul.”

“Ah, a girl from the city-city,” he said. “I could hear it from your accent, but I guess it makes sense for you to like this end of the world then.”

You didn’t reply this time, and in the silence that followed you could tell that he was waiting for you to say something, ask something — do anything to keep the conversation going, but honestly, you didn’t know how to do so.

It’s not that you were a quiet person — you weren’t. You had heard enough remarks from your father to know that you could be considered anything but quiet. It had just become rare for you to be alone with anyone who wasn’t in your circle of comfort already, and you hadn’t noticed how out of practice you had become until you had come to Jeju. 

“Well, we are here,” he announced then.

Just like the rest of the street, Jake’s shop was a single-story construction. White walls and a tempered glass framed by bare woods like most Korean houses had been built during the Joseon dynasty.

“Give me your phone,” Euntaek said.

“My phone?” you asked, looking at the device still unlocked in your hands. His phrase came with no question marks or rapport, and you wondered if he was always like this — throwing demands that should have been questions.

“Yes,” he said. “In case you need something — Jake doesn’t have a car, he is always taking the old Beomseok’s pickup but I-” The ramble kept going on, but as you extended your phone at him, you had already turned back to the shop.

You had once heard Jongseong telling your parents that Jaeyun had moved to Jeju to take care of his departed grandfather’s shop, being the only one who took an interest in the old man’s business. Your brother had even come to help at the beginning of everything, but you never had considered asking him what the shop was about, and now you wished you had so you wouldn’t be so surprised as you caught sight of the tens pottery pieces — from small mugs to bowls and enormous flower pots, all glazed in the modest tones of Jeju, and filling the wooden shelves at the fairest end of the room. Down the middle of the shop, there was a long table, and some pottery wheels, their sheer number indicating he not only did it but also taught.

The shop was fairly empty, save for a couple studying the row of mugs, and Jaeyun — standing with his back to the tempered glass.

Euntaek handed your phone back, and you locked it without even looking at him.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you said.

“Anything you need just give me a sign.”

“Sure,” you said, already taking the handle of your luggage and stepping away.

A fluttering of crystal and bells clanked against the door as you pushed it, allowing the summer breeze to rush over the place, the earthy and pond-mud smell of clay taking over your senses as Jaeyun turned to you, a polite smile already playing on his lips.

Until now, you had never seen your brother’s best friend — not that you haven’t tried, but his only social media seemed to be Instagram and the absence of posts left you nothing but the group pictures your brother showed you once in a while, blurry things that had been taken on drunk states or taken so distant you couldn’t really tell what he looked like aside from the idea of his sun-kissed skin and his dark hair, always curled and always growing past his ears — boyish as he seemed pretty, you remembered once thinking, but up close with the golden light of the sunset bathing over him, you noticed he was utterly staggering and you became uncomfortably aware of the sun touching your face, turning your cheeks warmer and warmer beneath his gaze.

“Jaeyun?” you tried.

“Jake,” he corrected. “Whenever I hear Jaeyun, I feel like I need to look back to check if my father isn’t here.”

You nodded at him, well aware of his English name — you had already spoken it in conversations with your brother, rolled through the letters of it absently far enough times to be familiar with it, but there was something different about it now that you could put a face on it. The name fitted him, young and beautiful, cheerful and bright. You couldn’t help but hold the shape of his name in your mouth, try it on your tongue with its new taste and he tilted his head to the side, carefully studying you.

“Would you be Jongseong’s little sister?”

“Yes, I-” you exhaled. “I — Would you have a spare room?”

┈

It took Jake fifteen minutes to finish his talk with the couple and turn his full attention back to you, leaning on the cashier top as you told him about the apartment downtown, the summer storm, the kitten — even pulling the animal out of the pet carrier as an appeal, and then, finally, you told him about the landlord demanding you to put it back into the streets and how you simply couldn’t, so you left only with half of the amount your parents spent.

You hadn’t really thought about it, but the words kept coming rushed and messed up, a single stream of phrases being pulled out of you, and you swore to him you were going to find a place somewhere else, you just needed time — and a room for a few nights.

“So let me see if I understood,” Jake said. “You came to Jeju to spend the summer, got a nice place downtown but because of this kitten,” he stopped then, theatrically pointing at the animal in your hands. “You got kicked out without getting your full deposit back and you don’t want to call your parents asking them to help you find a new place nor simply want to go back home?”

“Yes, that’s — that’s exactly what happened,” you said.

You felt childish when the words reached back at you — your whole world becoming so small and silly. So you braced yourself for Jake’s judgment, but he did not. If anything, he tilted his head once again, thumping his fingers unrhythmically against the cashier’s top and you weren’t certain if this was because he was considering your situation or because it was simply quite a lot to take in just a few minutes. But he sighed then, the softest gust of air passing through his lips as a redemption.

“You can’t come here with a stray kitten,” he said. “It’s obvious that I would say yes.”

You must not have truly expected him to agree, because the surprise you felt when you heard his reply stunned you to silence, and in the stillness that followed, you finally noticed how fast your heart was beating against your ears. You had been terrified now that you could think about it.

“For real?” you asked then.

“Of course,” he said. “I will just close the shop and I will show you the house.”

You followed Jake back into the street, not knowing what else to do aside from standing there — watching as he closed the door, playing with the key, and locking it.

Outside, the night was slowly setting in, moonless and warm.

“Is it a girl or a boy?” he asked.

“What?”

“The cat.”

“Oh,” you gasped. “It’s a boy.”

“And have you named him?”

“Not yet. I am not even sure if I can keep him, I am leaving Jeju by the end of summer so I thought of finding a nice home for him here,” you blurted out, focusing on the small furry thing in your hands and when you looked at Jake again, he had already approached you. He was as tall as Jongseong, but differently from your brother he didn’t bottle you in the shadows and made you feel somehow smaller in the immensity of the world. Instead, Jake felt comfortably tall. He smelled like summer afternoons, like orange blossoms and that earthy scent that emanated from the pottery pieces displayed on his shelves. “But I guess it should be correct to at least give him a temporary name, right?”

“Jeonchae,” he said. “I always wanted to have a pet with this name.”

“Jeonchae is it then,” you replied, and Jake smiled again, this time something beyond his polite lightness and you felt your heart keening. He had those types of smiles that took over an entire face. You couldn’t even react as he took the handle of your luggage from your hand, guiding you to a side path, and countering the shop into the back garden — or the front garden. It depended on where you were coming from. His house stood on the other side of it, the design a perfect extension of the shop.

As Jake opened the front door and slipped in, you looked past him and into the hall. At first sight, the inside of Jake’s house was as plain as the outside. The same wooden frames and white walls you suspected he didn’t mind painting after he had inherited it, but as you walked inside, toeing out of your shoes, you noticed that the greatest of the place didn’t lie on the structure itself, but on the things. Nothing in the living room matched — not the green racks or the maroon couch. The shelves on the far wall were cluttered with books stacked between pieces of pottery and crafted figurines. The last afternoon light spilled through an open window, illuminating the room altogether with the yellow lamps and everything was chaotic, bright, and unabashedly joyous.

And you were surprised to notice, you loved it.

“Nothing is exactly new, but-”

“It is lovely,” you said. “Homey.”

Jake looked at you like maybe he didn’t quite believe it — like he quite didn’t expect it, and you coudn’t help but frown a bit.

Your family’s house was minimalist, bare even, everything almost planned to not indicate any of your personalities and you wondered how it would feel to have a place that showed exactly who you were inside.

“Kitchen’s over there,” he continued, pointing at the end of the room as if the open floor plan didn’t make it clear where everything was.

“This is my room,” he said, moving his attention to the first door in a row of three. You barely could get a glimpse of the inside before he continued on, scrolling your luggage through the hardwood floor. “The door on the far end is the bathroom and the laundry, it seems a bit cluttered, but well, it is an old house — and here,”

“Can be your room,” he finished, gesturing for you to go in first. And you did so, finally letting go of Jeonchae and allowing the kitten to hover over the room.

A bed lay in the center only with the mattress. And although the windows had been flung wide open, showing the perfect view of the garden, a faint smell of glaze and paint remained in the room, something you couldn’t tell if it came from the pots of paint organized on the shelves, or the pottery pieces themselves — drying at the window frame.

“It was my grandparents’ room,” Jake clarified. “Now I just use it as-”

“A paint room,” you completed. “Is it ok if I look?”

“Yeah, I mean- yeah,” he whispered, rushing his fingers through his hair.

You crouched in front of the pieces, staying eye level with them. Jake had painted a few with the same earthy tones you had seen at his shop, but others he had drawn on, gorgeous mixes of colors and styles. There were hills in the traditional Korean art style, and flowers in a modern — almost silly way. You could stay there, studying these pieces for hours and catching a different detail every time. But as you turned to say something to Jake, you caught sight of a canvas leaning against the wall, a three-dimensional painting, with mountains coming out of the plain canvas that took your words away. Different from everything else it barely had colors. A mix of black and white and you could feel it, the struggle and the loneliness on the canvas. Your fingers tickled as if you wanted to reach for it — brush your fingers as if to tend the pain, but you forced yourself to remain still.

“My final project from my first university semester,” he said.

“It’s beautiful,” you said. “How have you done it?”

“Lots of baking soda — Jay got quite annoyed by the mess I made in our shared room.”

“My brother is a naturally annoyed person,” you said, immediately coaxing a snort of laughter out of him, the sound so silly, yet vivid that you didn’t notice a smile was rising to your lips in response until it was already there.

“Now you said the truth,” he said.

“Well, I will leave you to settle yourself,” he continued. “The wardrobe is empty, aside from a few bed sheets, I think. You can use anything here, and if the paint and pottery bother you, just put it out, I can sort it anywhere else.”

“It’s alright,” you said. “Honestly, thank you so much.”

“I would ask you what you want for dinner, but my acknowledgment as a cooker is very limited, and there are no take-outs nearby so-”

“Could I help?”

“Don’t worry. Jeonchae is going to help me, aren’t you, buddy?” he asked, slightly leaning himself so he could reach for the kitten, scratching the back of his ears, and immediately receiving a low rumble of approbation.

You were surprised to see that the kitten, in fact, followed Jake out of the room and through the house, rushing through the kitchen not only as if he knew the place, but as if he was already part of it.

┈

You weren’t sure how long you were going to stay at Jake’s house, so you decided to not unpack everything, making settling yourself into his spare room a quick task and by the time you stepped out to the common area, he was just taking the pan out of the six-burner stove and putting it on the table.

You almost laughed when you noticed his very little acknowledgment in the kitchen meant lamen and a bunch of leftover side dishes for the night, the take-out bowls affirming that nothing had been made by him.

There was something endearing about Jake’s clumsy maneuvering around the kitchen, a certain charm in his earnest attempt, but you couldn’t help but worry if his dinners always had been like this — you were a Park at the end of the day, meals not only being important healthy, but as a manner of caring for yourself and others, so you stopped yourself, trying your best to not show your worry when he caught sight of you.

“I hope you didn’t have high expectations,” he said then, his eyes meeting yours. “It’s nothing like your mother’s or your brother’s — but it’ll fill you up.”

“I wouldn’t expect anyone to be like them,” you said. “Only high chefs love the kitchen as much as they do.”

His eyes softened as he gestured for you to join him at the table.

“Well, that’s a relief,” he admitted, passing you one of the bowls. You weren’t surprised to notice it was handmade, irregular, and pottery-crafted. You curled your fingers around the piece, relishing the coldness against your skin.

“Are your dinners always like this?” you asked. Jake looked at you on the other side of the table then, taking in how you hadn’t moved yet, and retrieved the bowl from you, ladling a heaping portion of lamen and placing it in front of you.

“You mean extremely unprepared and unhealthy?” he asked, and you gasped. You didn’t mean to offend him, but because you couldn’t find better words to describe it, you remained silent. “Most of the time, but once in a while Mrs. Choi brings me something, once in a while I simply do not eat, so we can say it’s not an every-night thing.”

There was a pause, a skimpy moment full of awkwardness. But then, Jeonchae leaped at the dining table, immediately stealing a laugh from Jake. He spared a piece of meat to the kitten, quickly making the apology die on your tongue together with the gasp you couldn’t release, and just like that, the spell was broken.

“Jake,” you called. “What if I take care of dinner while I am here?”

“Oh no, she is surely a Park,” he teased, but he nodded at you, barely giving himself the time to think between a second and another, and making you suck your breath back.

“Really?” you asked. “I mean, I’m not like my mother or Jay as well-”

“I wouldn’t expect you to be like them,” he said, and that was it — just your words in his mouth, but you couldn’t help but feel as if the air had suddenly gotten lighter, that heavy pressure on your shoulders disappearing as if it had never been there. It was the very first time you genuinely thought someone who knew your family, didn’t expect you to be like them. “But I would need to take you to the market tomorrow, I doubt there’s something usable in this kitchen.”

┈

You woke up to the street lights spreading through the darkness of your room and a soft series of curses.

At first, you couldn’t remember where you were. The scent of glaze and paint took you with a strange closeness, until you remembered the discussion with the landlord, putting the kitten in a carrier, and taking the bus to Seogwipo to meet Jake — Jake.

You slide out of the bed, padding barefoot to the window and opening it in time to catch your brother’s best friend adjusting a ladder closer to the house’s wall and taking the first step up to it.

“What are you doing?” you asked because Jake wasn’t possibly going up to the roof late at night although everything indicated it was exactly what he was doing.

Jake turned to you as fast as a complicated smile took over his features.

“Sorry, I woke you up,” he said, the certainty that he had been the one to wake you up stealing the question mark of his phrase and so you didn’t reply.

“Are you afraid of heights?” he asked then.

“A bit, yes.”

“Do you trust me?”

┈

There were stars, and there were stars at Seogwipo.

Some nights, back at home, you had lingered on your bedroom’s window, trying to catch at least a spare star above the city lights without much success, but as you sat by Jake’s side at the uneven tiles of his roof, and craned your neck to the vastness of the sky, you couldn’t help but sigh at the view, an appreciation sound that came from your bare heart.

At Jeju there were never enough streetlights to obliterate the stars completely — you could always get a glimpse of them without much search, but at Seogwipo — so far from anything else, the stars created streams of silver against the dark sky.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered.

“Was it what you expected?” Jake asked. “When you decided to come to Jeju.”

“I don’t think I had any expectations. Honestly, I barely considered it before I decided to come to Jeju. It was there and suddenly it seemed like a great option so I took it,” you said. “It’s just — are you the youngest in your family?”

Jake’s eyebrows furrowed at your sudden question, his confusion setting heavy on his features despite the lightness with which he tilted his head, and in the heat of the moment, you continued: “I am not blaming Jay or my family, it’s not like this. But there is something about being the youngest child that no one speaks about,”

“When you are the youngest, you live in the shadows of either their failures or their successes. It wasn’t my dream to go to the United States to study — it was my father’s. He couldn’t do it back at his time, so he tried to make Jay do it for him, but when Jay failed due to his grades, I became the next in line, and I have been living my whole life like this — trying to fulfill everything they want to not be the letdown of my family.”

“When I passed the university interview,” you continued. “got the visa and everything, they started talking about their expectations and it suddenly made me realize that I have never lived a single day for myself, so I think I panicked — I wanted to try something for myself, at least this summer before I go to the United States to live a life I never dreamed about.”

When you finished, Jake had been silent for so long that you thought he had zoned out — leaving you to talk to the vastness of the place. But you looked at him then, and he was there — with the same careful stare he had turned on you this afternoon, and making your cheeks grow warmer.

You weren’t a quiet person — as you had reminded yourself with Euntaek earlier on that day. You were just out of the practice of speaking with strangers. You could eventually be your true self. It wasn’t uncommon. What truly surprised you was how fast Jake had made you open up.

It wasn’t like you considered Jake a stranger, he wasn’t, not really. You had co-existed in each other’s worlds for so long that it was almost peculiar to think you had met just a few hours previously. Yet still, it felt way too nice.

“I do have an older brother too,” Jake admitted then. “He has studied medicine in Australia and people love to praise him or say something like it must be hard for Jaeyun to have an older brother like you.”

A breath shuddered out of you with the harshness of his words, and his mouth screwed on something between a smile and a frown, his own history setting heavy on him, and making him pause, his gaze drifting downward.

Jake watched as his fingers moved on his lap as if he was trying to sort his thoughts out, and that was the moment you noticed that whatever he was about to tell you was something he had been keeping for himself for years — just like you — too much like you, actually.

“It’s just like you said, I do not blame my family,” he started. “But because my parents are doctors and my brother always knew he was going to follow their path, I grew up thinking I was the letdown of my family.”

“With my grandfather, otherwise,” Jake continued. “He was an artist — not a very successful one as you can see from the house or by the fact that you probably never heard of him, but he loved it,”

“I used to come here every summer, and whenever I saw him doing pottery — whenever I saw the happiness in him, I knew it was what I wanted to do too, but still, I was afraid I would disappoint my parents so I tried to follow their path and study medicine instead.” Jake had a dull tone, but it was almost like his canvas in your room — you could feel the pain in each syllable. “But then, my grandfather died in my first year.”

You knew Jake’s grandfather had died — had picked the information in the echo of your brother’s conversation with your mother, but you never knew what the man had meant to Jake, and perhaps that was what made your heart keen as if you had just discovered his passing.

“I am so sorry,” you said.

You reached out to Jake, placing your hand gently on top of his. It hadn’t dawned on you how intimate the gesture was until you felt Jake moving beneath your touch, but before you could pull away he had already turned his palm into yours, squeezing you lightly, and reassuringly.

“It’s alright. It has been five years already,” he said. “Somehow I think I’ve gotten to peace with this as much as a person can be — I mean, grief never ends. It just gives breaks. Some moments I laugh while remembering him, and others I catch myself near to tears, but it’s more like a heartache,”

“I wish he were still here sometimes,” Jake concluded. “He always knew how to read me through,” 

“On his last phone call, he asked if I was happy — if I was doing what I wanted to,” he said. “And it stuck with me, you know? I wasn’t — so I came to Jeju for his funeral and decided I could go back to Seoul, but not to med school. I got transferred, and well, I think you know the rest of the story. I graduated in Fine Arts like I always wanted, and came here to take care of his things.”

“I won’t lie and tell you it was easy — it wasn’t. When I told my parents what my plans were, my father asked me if I wanted to be poor like my grandpa. But what I am trying to say is that I understand you,” Jake said. “If you want to stay here during the whole summer to give yourself time, I got you — just be sure to live for yourself because there’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Make a list of things you have never done and want to do. I don’t know. Just enjoy your time here.”

A breeze picked up in the following silence, the halted air suddenly stirring and shuddering the bushes on the other side of the street. Seogwipo was so silent at this hour of the night that you could hear the soft rustling sound as they moved, all the world halted enough to give enough space for that tiny word to settle in.

Enjoy. You weren’t really sure if you understood what it meant anymore.

Your whole life felt like some task. From your academic life to even the parts that used to be the most fun, like reading over the summer or baking a new recipe on a Friday afternoon. They felt like things you had to be really good at in order to prove you were worth belonging. And looking back at it, it just felt so messed up.

“You sound wiser than my brother,” you whispered. “Maybe I should start talking to you instead.”

“Well, you know where to find me,” he whispered back, leaning toward your side. He was just a bit too close, his scent taking over you all together with the summer breezes. And he might have noticed it too because he drew a bit back, rushing his fingers through his hair as his gaze focused on the skyline once again. 

“But it can be a dangerous thing — to get me,” you replied. “I can become really dependent.”

Jake’s eyes lingered as he turned back at you, his lips parting for a heartbeat more, the space between them widening with what he meant to say next, but whatever it had been — was forgotten over the second. And he only swallowed then, licking at his lips.

“Should we go down?” Jake asked. “I have no idea what time it is.”

But he was already slipping through the roof tiles, taking the first step down the ladder before you had even replied.

You carefully followed him, edging your way onto the roof, but the moment you looked down, you felt your heart contracting, shivers scattering through the line of your spine and making you dizzy.

“Jake?” you called, your voice sounding quieter than you intended to.

“Yeah?”

“Remember when I said I was a bit afraid of heights?” you asked, but he didn’t reply, his eyebrows furrowing as he peered at you. “I don’t mind being in a high place, but I can’t know how high it is.”

“You can’t look down?”

“It makes me vertiginous,” you admitted.

“Alright,” Jake said. “Let’s do it like this — can you sit on the edge of the roof and put your feet on the ladder?”

You nodded, heart thumping in your chest as you carefully shifted your weight and did as he said, finding the first step of the ladder with the soles of your shoes. Either the night had turned colder or your senses had turned very accurately due to your nervousness. You felt Jake retreating the few steps he had taken down, and lingering closer to you, his whole body as warm as he sounded when he finally spoke again.

“Give me your hands,” he asked. “You can keep your eyes straight at the horizon or close them, I got you — Just don’t look down.”

You extended your hands to him, and he took them, his fingers curling around yours as he guided you down.

“Isn’t it dangerous for you?” you asked suddenly, but you didn’t dare to open your eyes and check how he was doing it.

“Just a few more steps, Baby,” he said, immediately making both of you halt, your eyes opening as the endearing word whistled through the space between both of you.

It’s not like you thought he meant it to be endearing. Your whole family called you Baby, from your grandparents to your parents and brother — and even their close friends. Probably whenever Jake had heard someone speaking about you the word simply came by, but hearing it in his voice felt different, and flush of warmth crepped up to your cheeks.

“I am sorry,” he hushed.

“It’s alright,” you said. “I guess Jay called me Baby too much around you.”

“Yes,” he said, the confirmation coming as a tight exhale. “It happened so commonly that when he first said your name I had to ask who he was talking about and he managed to feel offended.”

You laughed at it, softly, and his mouth quivered in response.

“Just a few more steps,” he repeated then. And with the help of Jake’s guidance, you managed to make it down from the roof.

Jeonchae was already waiting at the house’s door. And you tried not to feel offended when the kitten once again chose Jake, following him through the living room and only stopping when Jake did too.

“Good night, Baby,” Jake said, reaching for his door’s knob.

You did so too, but didn’t turn it. You didn’t want to be the first one the break the moment. Like that one night during a Christmas break when your mother found you awake when no one else was. She asked if you wanted to drink a cup of warm milk with her, and it had been so nice to have your mother all to yourself — so nice to whisper things neither of you really did when it was day. You wanted to relish it until the end, leaving a single sip in your cup even when it was all cold and unsweetened.

But Jake was slightly shaking his head then, a smile on his lips before he slipped into his room.

You woke up to the soft hustle of dishes echoing, drawers opening and shutting before finally the smell of bread browning and eggs hitting a hot skillet reached you.

Morning light flooded through the opened windows of the bedroom, the brightness of it catching you unguarded and making you blink a few times before you managed to roll through the bed, trying to catch what Jake was doing, but the gap between the door and its frame was small, a bare sliver that all you could see was his head tilted to the stove in concentration and his shoulders moving, the thin material almost giving you the outline of everything — you abruptly stood up, padding barefoot to the kitchen.

“Good morning,” he said, promptly extending you a mug. You wrapped your hands around the steaming cup, inhaling the bittersweet scent of coffee and vanilla.

“So you aren’t very fond of cooking dinner, but like breakfast?” you asked.

“I guess we all have one favorite meal.”

“Well, that makes sense,” you agreed. “But if I prefer baking, what does it make me?”

“A tea-time person, definitely,” he said. “Maybe you should meet Mrs. Choi, she has a bakery down the street-”

“An old lady? Not even one and a half meters? Gray hair and a really fierce accent?”

“I see that you have already met her.”

“She was sitting by her bakery door when I arrived,” you said. “Asked if I needed help, and made her grandson walk me here.”

“She made Euntaek walk you through one hundred and something meters?”

“Very fiercely, actually, but perhaps it was just her accent,” you admitted, stealing a smile from him. It had been so quick — if your heart hadn’t leaped at the sight of it, you would think it had been an imagined moment.

“I thought about going to the market after breakfast,” he said. “Get the things you need, I genuinely only have eggs, three packs of lamen, and bread.”

“Well, you at least have something aside from lamen.”

“Don’t get too proud. Beomseok — a grandpa who lives at the end of the street sells eggs, and the bread is from Mrs. Choi’s bakery-”

“I am surely not proud,” you said, but despite the harsh choice of words, they carried no venom and Jake allowed himself to playfully pout at you. There was something adorable about his expression — almost puppyish, and you had to control yourself to not reach for him, ruffling your fingers through his locks and discovering if they were as soft as they looked.

“Don’t be so mean to me.”

┈

Euntaek had told you — more like warned you about the absence of a car in the midst of Jake’s possessions, always having to ask for the old Beomseok’s pickup. So when Jake told you he was going to wait outside, you had expected to step out to the view of a pickup — although you didn’t know what Beomseok looked like, and much less his pickup. Or Jake simply standing there ready to walk you to the market, but not for a single second, you had expected to see him leaning on a motorcycle with two helmets in his hands. Partly because you haven’t noticed the thing on the night previously, and partly because it shone beneath the summer sun, all black, metallic, and nothing like Jake.

You had this odd conviction that often people matched their vehicles. Jongseong’s black Mercedes was made for him, just like your mother’s champagne Audi was made for her, but where Jake was soft his motorcycle was hazardous. And you weren’t sure if it was conflicting or if you had just encountered a new side of him. But either way — it took the wind out of you.

“No,” you said.

Jake’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you, his hand halting in the middle of the motion of extending you one of the helmets.

“Can’t we go walking or something?” you asked.

“Why?”

“Jay also has a motorcycle license, and Mom made me promise I wouldn’t ride with him.”

“You promised you wouldn’t ride with Jay — I am not Jay,” he said. “C’mon, it’s safe.”

Jake was trying to look unamused, but it was clear by the way the corners of his mouth twisted that he was fighting a smile as he looked down the street, taking in the path you had already walked. He watched the whole path from Mrs. Choi’s tiny bakery to his own shop before he moved ahead, the shops and houses you still didn’t know as if he was looking for something.

Bees hummed over the bushes on the other side of the street.

It was so impossibly summer.

“Let’s do it like this: you are scratching the first thing on the list of things you have never done before,” Jake said, already hurling a leg over the motorcycle. “Beomseok’s pickup isn’t here, so he is probably using it. Next time we go to the market I promise you — I will ask for his pickup if you want me to, but for today it’s our only option.”

“C’mon, Baby. I got you,” he said, tentatively extending you the helmet once again.

And there it was. Baby. The word being familiar and unknown. Soft and overwhelming. It shaped through Jake’s mouth as easily as it had the night previously. And perhaps because of the lack of surprise, perhaps because of the new insight the daylight brought, but you finally got it. Jake didn’t call you with the fondness your parents did, nor with the fierce overprotection Jongseong did. He took your nickname and made it all his. Teasingly as it was overprotective, careful as it was wild. And you felt something moving inside of you. 

Wasn’t that the reason why you had come to Jeju?

You stepped forward, taking the helmet and hurling your leg at the motorcycle by the time a breath should be taken.

Jake put on his helmet too, looking over his shoulder. He seemed ready to say something to you, but whatever it had been, slipped and slid as he felt you resting your head at his back, the side of your helmet pressed against his jacket as your arms slipped around his waist, hands finding the shirt beneath his denim and twisting the thin material of it until your knuckles turned white. Jake spread his palms above yours, warm and reassuring — summer always stuck in his skin.

“I got you,” he repeated, a little more breathless. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

And then, there was just the air past your ears, the roar of the motorcycle, and Jake.

┈

Jake’s neighborhood had only one market.

It was a small and unassuming building tucked away on a noncommercial street. The owner even seemed to live on the second floor as a few clothes hung on a line by the terrace, the white pieces fluttering against the blue sky and spreading a scent of flowery softening through the morning breeze.

There was no parking lot, the door opened right on the sidewalk — not that it seemed to be necessary. The establishment was completely empty aside from the cashier, a girl not much younger than you and with such a bored expression that gave you the assurance that she certainly wasn’t spending her summer morning there by choice.

She didn’t even stray her attention from her phone as you both stepped in, the faint din of the latest summer hit coming from her earphones being the only sound mixing with the whir of the freezers.

Jake promptly took the shopping cart from the side of the doors. And there was something so domestic about the whole thing — so intimate on the way he pushed the shopping cart around the aisles, you by his side, elbows brushing, and hands tucking on each other whenever you wanted to stop because it was easier like this. It made your chest ache and suddenly it felt unkind to think of Jake just as your brother’s best friend — all the acknowledgment of him being given by a third part, so you started an ask game. It was simple, this or that questions that weren’t even that deep, but Jake tilted his head to appraise you, taking his time to think about it every time. And when he started to ask them back, you smiled at him, cheeks a bit warmer because it was less than he was just being polite, and more like he wanted to know you too.

You turned to the final aisle, being greeted by a dozen candies and snacks, boxes and packages in an aggressive assembly of colors and almost mockingly being in their majority from America.

“What are you going to study? In the United States?” Jake asked, perhaps noticing it too.

“Law,” you said as if it’s just a fact. Because well, that’s what it was, but the word hung in the air like a weighty secret. And so, Jake blinked at you, momentarily taken aback, before he decided to move his attention to the shelves, his fingers fumbling through the cereal boxes with a concentration too unpretentious to be unpretentious.

“Is there something else you would want to study? Aside from law?” he asked then. It could have been just a simple question, no different from all the others you had been making and answering. But perhaps because of how he asked it, it very much felt as if Jake had already divined all the nuances of your whole being.

If you were to tell the history of your family, law school was so entangled in it that it was impossible not to mention it. Your father’s mother had been a judge, a rare gem as your own grandfather used to say — although you weren’t sure if it was because she managed to get such a high position in a field where women were so rarely seen back in their time, or something else. Your father’s father had a mind of his own, so ingeniously crafted that his university refused to let him go, and made him a professor where eventually, your father came to study and met your mother, the successor of a long line of counselors.

Family gatherings had always brought Legal Language — even when it wasn’t necessary to. The word abrogate was used more than deny and you knew — to follow their path was the only way to truly blend in. Jake had understood it, perhaps all too easily due to his own past, and it made your lips part, surprise stunning you for a moment.

“I never stopped to think about it,” you said, already stepping forward.

You tried to pretend you were not so excited when your eyes caught a familiar cookie on the topmost shelf, extending your hand at it without much success as your fingers have not even skimmed through the package.

“Jake, could you-” you started, but he was already there, easily ending the few steps you had created. One of his hands rested on the shelf at the level of your waist as the other reached for the packages for you, your fingers brushing and tangling.

“How many?” he asked. His voice threaded through your hair, and all of sudden your body became extremely aware of his proximity. Jake was all around you — all inside of you, when you breathed in, everything that came into your lungs was the scent of summer, that odd mix of orange and earth that Jake was.

“Five?”

“What are you going to do with so many cookies?”

“It’s my solace cookies,” you said, your lips barely closing at the end of the sentence because you meant to explain — you meant to tell him that once when you had failed an exam, Jongseong had been the one to come and pick you up after school. Your brother didn’t really know what to do with all your sadness, so he just took you to a convenience store nearby, bought all the types of cookies and ice creams his allowance could afford, and somehow this one became your favorite — the one thing you always found yourself stocking to eat on rough days so perhaps it would sound less childish to Jake. But before you could do so, he was echoing your saying. And you didn’t even need to look at him to know he was smiling. You had heard it, the soft deed turning his voice warmer because he thought it was endearing rather than childish, and you allowed the explanation to die in your tongue unsaid.

“What about the list? Have you thought about it?” he asked after a moment. “What you haven’t done yet, but want to.”

“Not yet,” you admitted. But it struck you later on — when you arrived back at his address, catching the sight of the pottery pieces on his shop’s shelves through the tempered glass.

“Pottery,” you said. Jake stopped abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk, shopping bags still hanging in his hands, but when you glanced over at him, he was beaming. “I never did pottery.”

“This one is easy to scratch,” he said.

┈

“Is it really fine to just not open the shop like this?” you asked. But Jake didn’t reply. Instead, he walked to a drawer you hadn’t noticed the existence of until now, taking out an apron and looping it over his neck.

It was nearing noon and Seogwipo was already alive, locals and tourists strolling through the sun-bathed street on the other side of the tempered glass.

You saw a woman peering inside the shop as her little daughter tugged at her dress skirts, but the door was locked, and a small handmade sign informed that the shop was closed.

“I am the owner,” he said. You looked back at Jake, tongue rolling on a retort. But he had already walked back to you, looping an apron over your neck and making whatever you had thought of saying slip and slide with the weight of thick material on your shoulders. His breath brushed through your cheeks as he leaned on you — warm and sweet smelling, cream and strawberries from the ice cream you had shared while stocking the food as he took the strings of the apron at your back and brought them to your front, clutching them safely.

“It’s not too tight, is it?” he asked.

“No — no, it’s not.”

“Good.”

You sat in front of a pottery wheel, watching as Jake filled a bowl with water and arranged it on a cart, strolling it to your side. Everything there was so carefully designed and considered that you couldn’t help but think about how this shop had been built with love.

“Alright,” he said. “What do you want to do?”

“What would be the easiest?”

“There is no such a thing,” he replied.

“What?”

“As long as you don’t want something that requires a lot of pieces and craving it’s easy.”

“A vase then?” you said. “Very tiny, preferably.”

Jake brought a stool to the other side of the wheel and sat down on it. His knee brushed against yours, a scarcely there thing that you couldn’t even feel his denim jeans against your bare skin, but maybe because your body was still lingering on the ride back, and the way he had reached for the cookies for you, you felt a flush of warmth rushing to your cheeks, that heat that seemed to be becoming a frequent feeling around Jake.

The fact that he had pretty hands didn’t help with anything — you hadn’t noticed it until then, artsy hands made for masterpieces, and you weren’t really sure if it made it harder or easier to watch as he pounded the clay into a ball and plopped onto the wheel, but when he looked at you, your body felt perilously close to coming undone.

“Ready?”

“I am not sure,” you said.

“Do you know what’s fun about pottery?” he asked. “You can mess this up. If you dislike it or change your mind, you just pound it back into a ball and start all over again.”

“Don’t stress too much about it,” he continued. “Just enjoy the process.”

“Alright.”

“I mean it, Baby,” Jake said. “You don’t need to make it perfect, no one is judging you.”

And that was it again — just your words in his mouth, but you suddenly felt as if the weight of the world had been pulled off your shoulders.

No one was judging you. Your parents, your teachers, your brother, and your grandparents. You didn’t need to prove anything for them here.

“Alright,” you repeated.

“Wet your hands, and gently cup the clay.”

“Am I supposed to step on the pedal already?”

“Not yet. Cup it first,” he said. “Thumbs in the middle.”

“Like this?”

“Yeah, now you step on the pedal.” You did as he said, allowing the wheel to move beneath the clay, twirling between your cupped hands, almost ticklish.

“Alright. Now use your left hand to give it a slight pressure. Your right is more for balance, to keep it upright.”

“It’s starting to get confusing,” you said.

“Like this,” Jake said, gently placing his hands above yours before he folded you over, clay immediately seeping between your fingers with the pressure and smearing Jake’s hands, filling the air with that earthy scent you somehow had already grown used to.

“You are pressing my right hand,” you said. “Isn’t it the one for balance?”

“It’s confusing my brain,” he confessed.

“What? Don’t you teach pottery?”

“Yes, but I never put my hands on people’s stuff, I usually just explain.”

“Are you somehow saying I am the worst student you’ve ever had?” you inquired. You weren’t sure if you had intended to be funny, but suddenly, Jake was laughing, the sound rattling you to the core, and you couldn’t help but stop, watching him.

If you thought Jake’s smiles took over his face, when he laughed, it seemed to resonate throughout every line of his body. He tilted his head downward with the vehemence of it, his eyes closing, but not before you noticed how they were shining, glinting specks in his dark eyes.

And God — Jake wasn’t just pretty, but he was the embodiment of summer, warmth, and sunshine always stuck on him, and making him glow. When his shoulders fluttered, it made something within your chest hum, and you forced yourself to blink, redirecting your focus to the clay.

“Maybe we should stay on the same side?” you asked then.

Jake stood up, taking his stool and swiftly settling it behind you. His chest pressed against your back as he positioned his hand above yours once again, and your heartbeat rumbled so loudly that you almost didn’t realize he was speaking again, “left hand to give pressure. Right to keep it upright.”

“Is it the time when I tell you that I hate to feel dirty?” you blurted out.

“You hate it?” Jake asked, letting go of you only to brush his fingers on your cheek, quickly smearing it with clay. You gasped at it, lurching up so fast, you almost tripped over the pottery wheel as you turned to look at him, but he only laughed once again, and instead of protesting, you reached for him too, smearing his jaw.

And that was it, the room was taken by laughter and clay.

The vase was destroyed by the amount of times you both had brushed your hands on it, smearing your palms only to clean it on the other one — if it was the right term, handprints being left on its wake. Jake’s arms were already covered when he finally gave it a break, looking at you and offering the precise moment when the idea struck him. His smile turned a bit wilder, a bit teasing, and before you could truly understand it, he had closed his fist on the vase, sealing the top of it, but handing a good amount of clay.

You reached for his wrist, but as you tried to prevent him from dirtying you even more, you threw both of you out of balance. You hit the floor first and in a heap, the sound of your bodies collapsing on the concrete floor muffling the curse Jake released.

He braced himself above you, his palms spreading just a few centimeters away from your head as he pushed himself up, but he was still too close. When his lips parted, his breath brushed through your cheeks, the same sweet scent from early on, heating your whole body and riddling you in place.

The warm light of the summer sun had found its way through the tempered glass of the shop, pouring around Jake in a beautiful and dazzling alchemy. Your fingers were clammy with clay, sticky with a grayish mix, but he didn’t mind it when you reached for him, palm splaying through his neck, fingers sliding to where his t-shirt hung loosely around his neck, if anything his skin shivered where you touched it. And he released a breath stronger than before, taking you both out of the haze.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked then.

“No,” you whispered.

Jake nodded, very slowly before he stood up, holding his hand and helping you stand.

“I am sorry,” he said. You weren’t sure what he was asking sorry for, the destroyed vase, the clay fight, for falling on you, or for the way your body was flaming up, every piece of skin burning with the bare memory of him against you. “We can start over.”

You blinked at him, taking a second longer to look back at the vase. It had worn shapeless above the wheel, a good part of it lost in the middle of the fight and its top had been destroyed where Jake’s fist had closed on. It surely had no use aside from a very peculiar ornament, but you once had heard about people wanting to retain moments, turning the immaterial memory into something concrete so they could carry it anywhere and that ruined vase was it — it wouldn’t matter how many years passed, or where you were, whenever you looked at this ruined vase, it would remind you of Jeju, of golden suns and breezes that smelled like earth, and oranges blossoms at the end of afternoons — it would remind you of Jake.

“I like it that way,” you told him. Jake furrowed your eyebrows at you, but he didn’t say anything, taking a string from the table, and cutting the vase off the wheel.

“We have to let it dry before doing anything,” he said. “By tomorrow or after we can fire it-”

“Wait, so people do not take their pieces home?” you asked.

“They do,” he said. “I mean, they receive it at home. I fire it and send it to them later.”

“Out of Jeju?” you asked, and Jake hummed at you, half focused on putting the vase on a wooden tray and taking it to the far end of the shop, letting it rest closer to the sink.

“It was my grandpa’s idea,” he said. “What better trip souvenir than something you did yourself? that’s what he used to say.”

“He seemed like a nice grandfather.”

“He was,” Jake told you. “I just wish he knew I am continuing it — that I didn’t let my father sell this shop.”

“He knows,” you whispered. “I am sure he knows.”

Jake paused then, looking back at you as if you had just said what he needed. And you didn’t know how to react — you had never been the person to be relied on. But somehow you found yourself liking it.

“Come here.”

You stepped closer to him again, and he took your hand, using a wet towel to clean the clay from your fingers, your wrists, his hands hovering through your skin, but not quite touching it.

“Jake,” you called. You weren’t sure if you wanted to say something more, it had just slipped through. And in the midst of your silence, he looked at you with the same golden eyes and sun-kissed skin.

“Give me another towel,” you asked, and he quickly obeyed, getting another towel and handing it to you.

As you took the towel with one hand, you reached for his chin with the other, gently tilting his head to the side so you could clean his jaw, and then his neck, taking all the evidence of your touch from his skin.

“I am sorry. I think I pushed clay into your ears.” Jake snorted at you, something you always thought to be weird coming out as endearing from him.

“I like having you here, Baby.”

“I like being here.”

For the next six days in Seogwipo, you barely did anything yet it felt like everything.

Mornings always started with you and Jeonchae sitting on the kitchen counter as Jake hovered over the stove, the greatest variation of bread and eggs you had ever known being prepared. And nights always ended in the opposite way. You prepared dinner as Jake stood within reach, always ready to open cans and cut whatever you asked him.

You had to go to the market more times, but you stopped complaining about the motorcycle at some point — mostly because when you finally met Beomseok and his pickup, the man seemed pretty convinced that you were Jake’s girlfriend or fiancée or whoever could make him say, “you two should marry early. Living your life peacefully is better than anything else”, and you would rather never encounter him again.

Just the memory of it made your cheeks burn.

Jake taught you how to use the credit card machine, and allowed you to take the payments from the customers. You packed orders and watched as he taught people how to do pottery — never touching their projects, “it was just for his worst student,” he whispered when another just graduated high school girl seemed pretty and annoyingly insistent on trying to make him guide her.

By Thursday Jake asked you if you wanted to help him glaze a few pieces, and when you told him you were afraid of messing up, he laughed at you.

“It’s transparent glaze, Baby,” he said. “I don’t know how you could mess this up.” But you liked using the kiln, being the first one to see how Jake’s pieces had turned out after being fired, and organizing it on the shop’s shelves to be purchased.

Mostly, though, you sat on the long table of the shop, Jake, and an endless thread of stories being your company. He couldn’t stay much still, you quickly noticed, always having to be working on something or using gestures throughout his stories. And you couldn’t help but think how Jake glowed there — in the place that carved him into the person he was today and something within you broke to think of a time he almost lost it all.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

It was Friday morning, the usual hustle and bustle of customers coming momentarily on hold due to the end of the week, the events by the downtown being more interesting than wandering through the small towns and Jake had taken the opportunity to work on a piece of clay as he tended to do when the movement was low, but this one seemed different from his typical methods. He wasn’t using the wheel, but molding it with his bare fingers and a few tools.

“Sculpting,” he said, turning the piece for you, and only then did you notice it was a cat. Chubby and furry.

“Oh my God, is it Jeonchae?” you asked. “I want it, charge me. I want it once you finish.”

“It will be one thousand won, but for you, I will do half of it,” he said, his gaze dropping to the clay once again, but you let your linger on the dark fringe of his lashes, the curve of his full upper lip.

It was easier to look at him like this.

“Do you want to try?” Jake asked.

“What?”

“Sculpting.”

“No.”

“C’mon, I got you,” he said, already rolling a stool closer to him and patting it for you to sit.

“Jake, I am going to mess Jeonchae up,” you said.

“I will help you,” he said, convincing enough to make you walk to him, but before you could do anything the fluttering sound of crystal and bells clanking against the shop door resonated as it was pushed, Mrs. Choi and Euntaek loudly announcing their entrance.

“Oh, sorry for interrupting. I brought some freshly baked pastries for you two,” Mrs. Choi said.

Jake stood up, cleaning his hands on his apron as he walked to them and accepted the tray Mrs. Choi was handing. The old lady rambled about how she had accidentally baked an extra tray this morning, and Euntaek took the opportunity to come in your direction — quickly taking Jake’s unattended stool. He barely settled himself in as his fingers reached for you, towing for a stray strand of your hair, and brushing it behind your ear. His touch was like a static shock, a spark of energy where skin met skin, as comfortable as it would have been to be electrocuted.

“You didn’t call,” he said. “Or message.”

Euntaek didn’t sound angry or annoyed. If anything, he sounded bemused. As if he wasn’t used by the fact that he might have been forgotten.

“I am sorry,” you hushed, using your wrists to not only brush any other strands he could come to find but to subtly create a distance within you. He smelled like his cigarettes, burning formaldehyde, and tar — something so different from Jake’s scent that you felt the back of your throat burning.

“I have a busking tomorrow night. It’s at a bar close to Jeju City,” he said. “You should come. I can drive us there. We enjoy the rest of the buskings, and then go to one of my bandmates’ place for an after-party.”

“Do you have a band?” you asked.

“Yeah, rock, but we play anything once in a while depending on the place,” he said. “So what do you think?”

“I-” you started, looking back at where Jake and Mrs. Choi stood. Although the old lady was still talking, Jake’s eyes were on you as if he had been looking at you the whole time and you suddenly forgot what you were going to say, being mercifully saved by Mrs. Choi calling for her grandson.

She stepped out of the shop, gesturing for Euntaek to hurry up because they had left the bakery unattended. He stood up, his smirk unfaltering.

“Text me your reply, or just shout out the door, I will surely hear from down the street,” he said then, winking at you before he followed his grandmother outside.

Jake closed the door behind them, leaving the tray on an empty wheel before he came back to you, sitting on his stool and tilting his head at you.

“What was that?” he asked. “You seem troubled.”

“Euntaek invited me to go to his busking in a bar tomorrow,” you confessed. “He has a band.”

“Oh.”

You didn’t notice how still Jake had become until he rubbed his finger against his thumb, brushing his digits as if feeling the remnant of the clay there a moment later.

“But I don’t know-” you admitted. “What do you think?”

“You don’t wanna to go?” Jake asked, and he was suddenly back at the university dorms, catching the echoes of your conversation with Jongseong through the phone — listening to how you always came up to your brother for advice, and he couldn’t help but wonder if you were looking up at him right now as a brother.

He was abruptly tired, the whole day wearing him out to the core.

“That’s not it. Jay used to have a band in high school, did you know?” you asked. “He had those kind of buskings, but I never went — so I got curious, but Euntaek is a bit-”

“Peculiar?”

“If we are kindly speaking, yes,” you said, and you were not sure why, but it got both of you smiling at each other, foolish and unreasonably, almost as if you had just thrown an old inside joke. And the intimacy of it got you looking away, your face catching the afternoon light coming from the tempered glass and giving you something to blame on how warm your face felt.

But Jake reached for you then, his thumb soflty caressing your cheeks, and you couldn’t deny it — it was all because of him.

“Clay,” he explained, turning the pad so you could see the remains when you looked back at him. “About Euntaek — well, it’s Euntaek, but in any case, you can just call me and I will pick you up. So you should think about it. If it is something that you want to do, you should go.”

And you thought about it.

You thought about it through the rest of the afternoon when a few customers came in. You thought about it when you prepared dinner for the two of you and spared a few pieces of meat to treat Jeonchae. You thought about it as you washed the dishes, appreciating the handmade pieces before you handed it to Jake to dry.

If you were to be honest, go on a busking, go on a date, have a night out in a bar — or whatever variation of Euntaek’s invitation could be named as would never make it into your to-do list for the Summer — not on a first draft. You were the trophy child of the Park’s family, the one your parents proudly whispered: “Oh, Baby never gave us that kind of trouble.” Whenever an acquaintance complained about their children doing anything remotely troublesome.

Jongseong had a band back in his school days, so the idea of watching a busking wasn’t foreign to you. But neither had it been the reprobation of your parents, the way your father lightly clicked his tongue as your mother screamed how he should be taking care of his grades instead. 

But in the end, it didn’t really matter that Jongseong had given them that kind of trouble because you didn’t. You were the good one, staying at home and studying every time your brother went out and that was fine for all of you.

But on a better reckoning, how much it had been because of the expectations you felt your parents had in you rather than you not really wanting to try?

Have you never really wanted to accept your brother’s invitations?

You looked at Jake as you passed him the last bowl, and suddenly his words came back to you.

No one was judging you here. You had nothing to prove at Jeju, and maybe that’s what brought in your final decision.

“I will go,” you told him. “It’s just something I have never done. And in the worst cases, I just scratch it and put it on my never doing again list, right?”

“You have a never doing again list?” he asked.

“Yes, I created it intending to put riding a motorcycle, but unfortunately I had no choice on this.”

Jake laughed at you, that one burst of happiness that got him tilting his head downward with the vehemence of it, and something within you hummed. “It isn’t that bad.”

“Oh, it is,” you confirmed. “My hands are all sweaty every time we ride that thing and let me tell you — my hands never get sweaty,”

“But I really enjoy doing the shop’s things.”

Jake tilted his head to the side, his eyes twinkling beneath the yellow lamps. He seemed more like himself than he had during the whole afternoon and oh — oh, how much you liked him like this. “I am glad to know, Baby.”

Sunsets at Seogwipo were perhaps the prettiest thing you had ever seen. When the sun dipped into the sea, the skies aquired a tone so vivid, it felt as if the town itself wanted to hold the light a moment longer than anywhere else in the world. And although Jake had told you that mid-July was supposed to bring the rainy season to the island, Saturday’s sunset was no different. Bold strips of light bathed the living room as you made your way to his bedroom.

Jake’s door was ajar, but he didn’t seem to notice your approach as he continued to work on the canvas in front of him. And for a moment, you remained perfectly still, simply unable to disturb the scene unfolding before you. There was something about him when he was focused — something almost ethereal. Jake could never stay much still, too restless for the world around him — he always had to gesticulate through stories, pinch the hem of his shirts in the middle of the silence or tumble his fingers, but whenever he was working on something, he seemed channeled — the act of doing art, turning into art itself. Beneath the afternoon light, the soft fabric of his well-worn linen shirt clung to the curves of his shoulders, subtly and tenderly shifting with each movement of his brushes. And you could have stayed there watching him forever if it was allowed, but he stopped then, his brows furrowing as he stopped to avail something and you forced yourself to raise your hand and knock.

“Come in,” Jake said.

You pushed the door open, quickly revealing the great mess his room was. Nothing in the house was genuinely big, but Jake managed to make his room even smaller with the amount of canvas and stacks propped against the walls. Everywhere — everywhere, there was something that showed he was an artist. Notebook stuffed with paint on the papers, stray brushes, and tint cans. Jake was sitting on the floor, curved upon his newest project, but he straightened his back against what he supposedly called a bed when you stepped in, the two mattresses sitting in the middle of the room and guarded by Jeonchae. You breathed a little harder, inhaling the smell of the paint he was using, and Jake — just Jake.

“I am about to leave,” you said, but your words came so small, you doubted Jake had heard you in the middle of the ruffle sounds that came when he stood up, stepping near to his desk and taking a piece of cloth to clean his fingers.

“Is he coming to pick you up?” he asked then, still focused on his hands.

Jake had been in a strange mood all day, but you assumed it was just the heat, settling heavily on the day and spreading with the certainty that summer had arrived. Also, there hadn’t been many customers today which made him decide to close the shop when you said you were going to go to the house and get ready, but there was something there, lurking just behind his actions, some private distress that you couldn’t figure out what was.

“Yes, Euntaek will be here in a few,” you said, but Jake only hummed at you.

“Don’t you want to come?” Your question caught his attention, prompting and immediately making him pause. 

“I don’t think Euntaek’s invitation extends to me, Baby.”

“But you could.”

“Do you want me to go?” he asked, finally looking at you, and to your surprise, he was smiling. It wasn’t even half of the smiles Jake tended to give you, barely curling the corner of his lips, but it was enough to make you feel your heart rushing, because yes — yes, you wanted him to come. You would feel so much better if he was with you. But something switched within him in the next second, the sudden smile fading once again and you swallowed your reply, taking a step closer to him as you extended a package of your favorite cookies to him.

Jake immediately extended his hand back at you, stopping only when he noticed what you were giving him. 

“Are you trying to console me?” he asked.

“You have been in a strange mood the whole day, so yes,” you said, and in the heat of the moment, you turned away, already walking out of his room and into the common area.

You were surprised when you heard him following you across the living room and calling. Not Baby, but your name — your given name bending on his voice and rolling through the space between both of you. It was the first time he had ever said your name, and it caught you off guard. Not only because of the novelty of it but because no one ever said your name as Jake did — so slow and deliberate as if he wanted to taste the sound of each letter rolling through his tongue, and relish on the way he made you gasp

“Wait,” he said. “Just — just call me if you feel uncomfortable with anything, alright?”

“Actually call me even if you don’t — even if you simply want to leave. I can go pick you up — I can ask for Beomseok’s pickup if you don’t want to come back with the motorcycle, just-”

“I will,” you said. “Thank you, Jake.”

He gave a slight nod in your direction, running his fingers through his hair as if to fix it. But his efforts only seemed to further dishevel his hair. Stray strands fell across his forehead, causing you to lift your hand, the tip of your fingers brushing them back into place before you had even thought this through.

His hair was soft beneath your touch, but still somehow different from what you had expected. It was real — much real.

Jake leaned on your touch, coming closer and making his hair fall all over again, but you didn’t mind brushing them again, this time tucking it behind his pinkish ears, and it too — was very much real.

“Do you want me to walk you to his car?” he whispered.

“No, it’s alright,” you whispered back.

Your phone rang then, signaling Euntaek’s arrival, and so, you took a breath, steeling yourself to turn away one last time before making your way through the front garden and the small path between the shop, the stone wall, and into the street, your head stumbling with the deconstruction of everything that had just happened.

Euntaek stood against the rugged frame of a Jeep, the design striking with sharps and almost too aggressive contours as its sleek black exterior glistened under the remains of the afternoon sun. And honestly, every detail — from the gleam of the chrome grille to the meticulously crafted wheel rims, was exactly what you expected from Euntaek’s car to be. 

People matched their vehicles, so what was the story behind Jake and his motorcycle?

“Ready to go?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

┈

The bar was already full by the time you arrived, but you suspected it always was. Saturday night or any other night. It seemed to be one of those establishments downtown that locals relished because their reputation was tarnished by the fact it wasn’t on the tourist pages, or if it was — it wasn’t as a recommendation.

People milled around on the curb, chatting with their strong Jeju accent as they waited for friends.

Euntaek extended his hand in your direction as you walked past them. It took you a few seconds to notice he was offering it to you, and a few more seconds for you to accept it, allowing him to lead you through the entrance and into the bar.

The rest of his band had already arrived, spread through a rounded table together with a few girls in the center of the dimmed-lit place. Euntaek exchanged fist bumps with them, telling you names and statuses you couldn’t truly hear beneath the furor of the place but you pretended that you did.

Jinho — or at least, that was what you understood, smirked when he caught sight of Euntaek holding your hand, and immediately you felt telling him it wasn’t it.

One hour in the car with Euntaek had offered you enough to understand him. He wasn’t interested in you — not even for a bit. And if there was something he found interesting in you it was the fact that you came from outside the island. 

He was flirtatious, yes, but it was as if he wanted to prove something — be something.

Euntaek had dreams too big for someone born on the island. He wanted to go to Seoul, not as on the fast trip he had with his parents a few years back or his graduation trip, but to stay there, get casted on a big company and live by his music because that was what he liked to do — just like Jake and his pottery shop. Dreams that didn’t fit the expectations and you couldn’t seriously come to hate on Choi Euntaek after this.

Actually, looking at him there, underneath the flickering lights you got yourself wondering how Jake had been in his early youth years. Had the motorcycle come at that time? A little rebellious act because he needed to prove something to the world? You really wanted to ask him.

You really wanted him here right now.

Euntaek pulled a chair for you, finally letting go of your hand as he reached for the breast pocket of his jacket and took a single cigarette out of its box, lighting it up with no ado despite the closed place.

“It’s bad for your health,” you blurted out, the words somehow slipping out of your mouth, smooth and sharp, if not accented, and quickly causing a laugh to stir from him. Euntaek took the cigarette away from his mouth, considering the small thing between his fingers before he pressed it against the table. The flame extinguished immediately, but the smell remained.

“Just because I am with you tonight, Baby,” he replied, immediately making you stop at the nickname. “I have been meaning to ask, I noticed it’s how your brother calls you-”

“My brother?” You cut him out. Although Jongseong did call you Baby you couldn’t imagine how Euntaek would come to know.

The crowd cheered as a band took the stage, and Euntaek whistled as if you hadn’t said anything, but as the vocalist introduced the band, he turned to you again. “Jake’s your brother, isn’t he?” he asked.

“No,” you said. Maybe it had been the speed at which you denied it, maybe it had been the vexation but you could swear the smirk on his face faltered, dropped by an unsure smile.

“So what are you?” he asked. “I had my doubts considering how you had arrived, but Grandma was pretty convinced that you are siblings.”

“We are-” you started, not sure what the rest of the phrase should be. Jake was still your brother’s best friend and perhaps he would always be, the years only turning their friendship unbreakable, but you had already scratched this sole connection after the market, knowing it was too unkind to keep your relationship through a third part. You had shared every breakfast ever since you arrived in Seogwipo, spent every afternoon together, and then dinner, but the word friend didn’t come as easily as you expected it would.

“We-” you started again, being mercifully saved by the arrival of another girl. Arin. That time you had heard for sure. She knew everyone there, or at least, that was what you thought. When she hugged you, it held the same intimacy she had with everyone around the table — as if she were a long-lost friend from your childhood. Like maybe once upon a time, she had held your hand as you played tag with the other children at your parents’ attorney gatherings.

And perhaps that’s why when one of Euntaek’s bandmates said something in his ear, immediately making him stand up and yell for her to take care of you, you didn’t really think anything.

You didn’t really think anything when she told you she was going to grab a drink for both of you. You just watched as she stood up, making her way to the bar at the farthest end of the room, an array of colorful bottles lining the shelves behind the bartender giving her a nod as she approached.

“So you are the Seoul girl?” The girl beside Arin’s vague chair shouted, immediately bringing your attention back to the table. You didn’t think she meant to be ambiguous but her question made you halt, the lack of practice of talking with strangers taking the best of you once again, and it almost surprised you — Jake always made you feel so comfortable that you nearly forgot how awkward you were with strangers. Perhaps you were, perhaps you weren’t the Seoul girl. It was quite difficult to tell as you imagined Seoul had a lot of girls, and a lot of girls who were wandering through Jeju during the Summer meeting them, but you nodded at her nevertheless, receiving a mere cool as a reply. And before you could do anything else, Arin had already returned with a shot. The small glass filled with an unfamiliar liquid and something white dissolving at the bottom.

“It’s a shot, drink it in one go,” she instructed as she handed it to you. You did as she said. At first it tasted sweet, and with a faint burn of tequila, but then the world began to distort a little at its edges, and by the time you placed the cup back onto the table, everything had already gone softer.

The bar erupted in cheers as another song picked up, but you couldn’t come to raise your head at it.

It’s not like you have never had alcohol in your whole life — you did. Sipping your mother’s martinis before it was even legal. Taking Jongseong’s champagne crystal flutes at parties and pretending it was ginger ale until your legal age came and you could order it yourself from the counter bars. You weren’t a stranger to the taste of alcohol on your tongue. So you couldn’t understand why your senses seemed so slow and the world so blunted around you. Your mind seemed too full, too empty, too askew.

In the middle of the bar, the colorful lights flickered and faded, immediately making you dizzy.

“I think- I think I need to go to the restroom,” you said. 

The girl beside Arin glanced up at you, her light expression shifting to immediate concern as she caught sight of you.

“It’s on the second floor! Third door!” she called out, gesturing towards a winding staircase in the corner of the room.

“Thank you,” you managed to say, not sure if she had heard you over the pounding music, but you were already moving, walking towards the staircase and gripping onto the railing until your knuckles had become white. The steps seemed to shift and sway as you approached, the lights casting strange shadows, and making it hard for you to judge their distances.

You tripped as a guy bumped into your shoulders on his way down, his laugh reaching your ears too muffled despite his closeness. You might have had too much, he said, but you didn’t. You knew you didn’t.

God, what was this?

For several long minutes, nothing happened as you stood alone in the dimly lit restroom. Your hands trembled against the slick surface of the sink, the coolness contrasting sharply with the heat suddenly radiating from your skin and you tried to calm yourself down, but the chaos outside continued unabated, echoing off the walls and the desperation took you over as you sank down onto the black tiled floor, pulling your knees tightly to your chest.

Then you reached for your phone.

┈

Jake woke up in the middle of the night to find the living room lights still on and his phone ringing.

He had fallen asleep on the couch, Jeonchae nestled in his arms as he waited — although he wouldn’t admit this last part willingly. He fumbled through the cushions, quickly finding the device as an unsaved number shone for him. The ID came from Seoul, and he didn’t need to think much about it to know it was you.

“Baby?” he tried.

“Jake,” you whispered. Your voice came small from the other end of the line, not quite like yourself. And the muted sound of some loud song in the background almost swallowed your following words. “I am scared.”

And it was enough to make him wobble, his heart tumbling inside of him, each wall collapsing individually, and crushing the one before it.

“Baby, send me your location, can you? I will be there in a few, alright?” he asked, and you hummed, hanging up so softly he took a few seconds to notice that you did, but he was already slipping through his front door, running through the street until he reached the small house Beomseok resided in. He jumped the stairs to the old man’s door, slamming it a dozen times, and then a dozen more before he could properly think about it.

“Jaeyun, son,” Beomseok exhaled as he opened the door. “Are you alright?”

“I am sorry,” Jake said. “But I need your pickup. Baby- I mean-”

“Your girlfriend?” the old man asked.

“Yes, my- my girl-” Jake mumbled, and he was thankful that the man didn’t inquire anything more before he reached for his entrance table, taking in the vehicle’s key and extending it to Jake.

“Do you want me to come?”

“No, it’s alright. Thank you.”

┈

This part of the island seemed to live in a completely different reality. As the rest of Jeju fell on a sleeping slumber, here it was still blaring with life. The curb outside the bar had been taken by a consistent line of cars, streetlights reflecting on their hoods and leaving not a single space for Jake.

He stopped in the middle of the street — pretty much sure it was the third infraction of the night, hauling the parking brake, and already throwing the door open.

Jake hadn’t been inside somewhere so noisy ever since his university time, and as he passed the doors, it immediately struck him — the smell of alcohol and damp skin, the smoky air that only could mean cigarettes and things that were illegal in Korea.

He looked around, only once searching for Euntaek, but in the absence of the lanky, and unnervingly annoying guy, he turned to a stranger closer by.

“Where’s the restroom here?” Jake asked. But the stranger merely stared at him, the alcohol making him take a little bit too long to comprehend anything, and Jake had to control himself to not reach for him, shaking his head in order to bring him back to his senses.

“Oh, it’s the third door on the second floor-”

Jake stepped past him, already rushing through the staircase, and into the corridor — stopping only when he arrived at the restroom door and tried the knob. It was locked.

“Baby?” he shouted. “It’s me, Jake.”

A breath shuddered out of you, almost sounding like Jake’s name, a small call that you weren’t sure if you intended to release as you reached for the lock and turned it, allowing him inside the restroom.

Jake was mad, and you could see it. As he kneeled in front of you, the muscles of his jaw clenched beneath, a small twitch that you had never seen carving into his soft skin. Yet he didn’t allow that anger to take over his tone. When he called your name, it still held that same slowness and deliberate softness he had reserved only for you.

“I am scared,” you whispered. “We can’t go to the hospital, I don’t know what it is, but I am sure it is illegal in Korea and-” you stopped, trying to regroup your intoxicated thoughts. But everything was a distant blur still, your mind just too slow for anything. 

“Baby,” Jake called, almost as gently as how he reached for you, his fingers curling around yours, holding your trembling hand and bringing it to his cheek. “It’s alright, I will take care of you.”

“I promise,” he whispered.

“I am sorry,” you said, but Jake just smiled at you, that one broad and reassuring smile.

“It’s fine — let’s go home.”

Jake had said this exact phrase a good amount of times already: as his fingers reached for the keys of his motorcycle at the exit of the market, at the exit of the pet shop you went to buy Jeonchae’s food on Wednesday, as he dropped the shop’s apron after a particularly busy day. But there was something on the way he had said it tonight, so softly and full of protection that home didn’t sound like a synonym for a house — for the place where you both have been sharing through the past week, but somewhere else, somewhere greater, and it ached within you.

You were safe.

You hadn’t really thought of crying — perhaps the anguish of the whole situation stole you from the most common reaction, but the moment Jake kissed the inside of your wrist, it was as if he had broken that thin thread you had kept to prevent yourself from breaking and tears flowed through your eyes as if they would never stop.

Jake didn’t need to ask you to hold him, you did it as soon as he curled his arms around you. One on your back, as the other supported the back of your legs as he lifted you. And all at once, the full weight of your body in his arms disconcerted him — not because it was too much — but exactly because it wasn’t. You had been taking up so much space in his world, that it was hard for him to believe he could simply hold you like this.

When he reached the main floor and the flickering lights pummeled you once again, you pushed your face further into his neck. The scent of clay was gone, replaced by the faint smell of the flowery soap bar he kept in the bathroom and oranges, but it still lingered in with such familiarity in your lungs that you couldn’t help but close your eyes, breathing him in again.

Jake carried you out of the bar and into the warm summer night. The stars hung so low in the sky that you couldn’t really tell if it was too late or too early as he gently placed you in the passenger seat of Beomseok’s pickup and bent down, shouldering his jacket off to drape around your body.

“Baby,” Jake called, but you were already curling yourself on his jacket, closing your eyes to relish the warmth of it. “Babe, please, I need you to look at me — just for a second, alright?” he asked, cupping your face. His fingers spread warmly against your wet cheeks, angling you to him. And when you looked at him, you knew he was seeing exactly what you did in the restroom mirror: your pupils a bit wider, dazed, and it shuddered a breath out of him, concern spreading through all of his features before his jaw tightened once again. “Has anyone tried to touch you?”

“No — it was that girl, Arin,” you said. “I should have known, I saw something on the bottom of the glass, Jake, I—”

“Hey — it’s alright. You couldn’t know,” he said. “You couldn’t know, Baby. Let’s just go back home.”

He closed the door gently before walking around to the driver’s side, every movement meticulous and deliberate, as if afraid the world might shatter around him if he wasn’t careful enough.

The city slid beyond the pickup’s window as Jake drove away, but you didn’t turn your head — didn’t watch how the moon streamed through the fields of green tea, rather you watched as the street lights caught on Jake’s hair, turning the dark strands into copper — the same strands that you had pushed your fingers through this afternoon. Your heart fluttered inside of your chest with the memory, its rapid heartbeats thumping against your ribs and making you look away when Jake glanced at you, averting your gaze to the city outside, and scrambling for something — anything — to say that could distract both of you. 

“I should message Euntaek,” you whispered then, already reaching for your phone. “I haven’t told him I left-” but your fingers felt clumsy as you tried to unlock the screen, the device slipping within your trembling hands just as it did in the restroom, but this time, Jake reached for you, taking it as he used his free hand to pull the pickup. 

“I will do it,” he said.

You looked at him, lips already parting into the retort you intended to give, but the words slurred as a wave of nausea hit you, the world spinning faster than before, and making your stomach churn violently inside of you.

You fumbled with the door handle, nearly falling out of the car as it swung open, stumbling a few steps away from Beomseok’s pickup and barely making it to the curb before you doubled over, the contents of your stomach emptying onto the pavement.

It would have been the most embarrassing moment of your life if Jake had done anything but reach for your hair as he followed you to the curb, gathering the strands in his fist as he held them back. 

“At the very least — the effect of the drug will pass soon,” he said.

Maybe it had been the remains of the alcohol still in your system, maybe it had been the drug still having an effect on you, or maybe it simply had been Jake, and his presence — always making everything easier for you, but you laughed then, so cheerfully — the sound surprised even you.

“I am never again stepping into a bar,” you whispered, closing your eyes. The breeze brushed through your face so nicely, you couldn’t help but raise your head to the sky, parting your lips in contentment. 

“Traumatic first time, right?” Jake asked, and you didn’t need to open your eyes to know, he was smiling back at you.

“Yes.”

“I will take you another night,” he resolved. “Let’s forget this first time, pretend it didn’t happen. I will give you a better memory.”

The breeze halted with you, the air suddenly too still and allowing you to notice how you ached at his words, a sharp twinge that started at your chest and spread to your throat, tightening there and almost bringing you to tears once again. Jake had done so much for you — more than you had ever asked for or expected — from allowing you to stay in his modest two-bedroom house with its mismatched furniture to sitting beside you underneath the stars and listening to your deepest fears with unwavering patience, and this. The weight of his kindness pressed against you like a physical force and you couldn’t help but feel ashamed.

Your whole life you had been avoiding being a hardship to the people around you, but here you were.

“I am so sorry,” you said. “I have been giving you a lot of trouble.”

“No, you are not — I mean, I don’t mind, not if it’s you,” he replied.

You opened your eyes, all at once encountering his gaze underneath the street lights, and it was so soft and bright, that one dazzling blaze that made everything inside of you lose and you couldn’t understand how he was able to do this every time — you couldn’t understand how Jake made everything so alright.

“Thank you for coming to get me,” you said.

“I told you I would, Baby,” Jake replied.

┈

You couldn’t reckon when you had fallen asleep. Between sitting back at the passenger seat of Beomseok’s pickup, curling yourself on Jake’s jacket, and the ride, you couldn’t reckon when you had fallen asleep. But by the time you had recovered a bit of your senses, Jake was gently laying you on the bed, a faint light filtering through the curtains of his grandparents’ old bedroom and giving you just enough to see him bending on a knee by your side. 

“Jake?”

“Yes, Baby?”

“When did you buy the motorcycle?” you asked.

“What a sudden question.”

“I have been wanting to ask you the whole night.”

“The whole night?” he echoed. You weren’t surprised by his reaction — you had seen it coming. What surprised you was how tightened his voice sounded, how serious. And maybe that had been what made you hum in reply, immediately and all at once not caring about the implications — the subtle sense that you had been thinking about him the whole night.

“Back when I passed the university exam,” he admitted then. 

“A little rebellious act?”

“Well, some people run away to islands, some people buy fancy motorcycles with their father’s money to irritate him.” You couldn’t help but laugh at his callout, the small sound escaping despite your exhaustion. And Jake smiled in response, perhaps too proudly as he reached for you, his hand hovering over your face for a brief second, before he took a strand of your hair and brushed it away from your cheeks.

“Jake?”

“Hm?”

“Stay here.” It took him a long time to make sense of your request, and when he did, the surprise kept him from moving for another moment before finally, he nodded at you. 

You watched the way Jake glanced around the room, his eyes searching for what the crochet blanket at the foot of your bed seemed to provide as he reached for it, carefully unfolding the fabric and spreading it on the floor. He lay down on it, one arm tucked beneath his head, as the other kept extending in your direction.

Neither of you moved for what felt like an eternity — not even a twitch. But then you reached for his hand, and Jake inhaled sharply, his breath so close to getting lodged inside of his chest that once again, you caught yourself wondering if you had gone too far — your body reacting to Jake before your own mind did, but before you could retreat, his fingers curled around yours and he shifted onto the blanket, maneuvering closer to you. 

“Have some sleep,” he whispered. “I will be here.”

You were not sure how long you both stayed like this, but you had fallen asleep before he did — his light and watchful breaths lulling and stealing you from the moment he brought your hand closer to him, pressing it against his lips as his gaze never failed to linger on you.

The world had turned darker with the passing hours, and whatever remained of the light seemed to now race towards you — the rose and gold of the stars and street lights filtering through the curtains, and softly painting your form. It had been years, but Jake finally understood what a professor once had said, beauty was rarely soft or consolatory, it was quite alarming. He could feel his pulse jumping at his neck, the bare image of you stirring and awakening something inside of him.

“Baby?” Jake called. “Is it ok if I fall in love with you? — You do not see me as a brother, do you?”

hello, my loves! ₊˚ ⊹ thank you so much for reading until here! i hope i haven’t tired you guys down yet cause as you can see, jake and his baby have barely started their romance journey and there is a lot more to come (including their first time, and the second, the third — and well… i know many of you are looking forward to the smutty lmao) but anyway! thank you once again for staying with me until here! see you in the next part :)

(♡) special thanks to Remi & Rin for the amazing support on the behind-the-scenes once again. this story would never be reposted if it weren’t for the both of you!

@baifyjakeywifey @rubyunie @littleaprilcherryblossom @ppeachyttae @enhxlvr @dearestdreamies @blooqz @loverbyfate @lilyofthevalley6 @ironrpincess @jvngw0nlvr @teenagecheesecakereview @xylatox @zoe1love @enhanoa @jakeznii @ikeuriki @yuyita-rosier @choiwrld @riqomi @m1kkso @camipendragon @seranghaesvt @simjaeyunlvrclub @nenesz @woncafe @jjongsha @lyks02 @feverenha @enjakey @tatikeu @geniejunn @graythecoffeebean @beomgyus11 @chromenishi @rpwpthv @sgdhsiiwhshajiishe @jakessrealwife @meowmeowjang @jake-teamo @yuniesluv @reikaxslvr @jyjkbby @mymayaship @luks02 @elimelbe @sooohey @yunjardi @blockbusterhee @h4niyahcar @yooonjnng

[sunghoon-cam]

OMG WE JUST HIT 500 INTERACTIONS THANK YOU GUYSS DKDHKAJFJSBD

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝓷𝓲-𝓴𝓲 𝓯𝓲𝓬 𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓸 𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ! ⋆˚࿔

˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ eyes on me

˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ one less lonely girl

˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ my project partner

˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ mornings with riki

˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ selfish

˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ to weave my love

˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ look at me

˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ missed you baby

˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ sticky

˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ aishteru

˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ the same heart

˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ late night

˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ birthday boy

˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ busy woman [part one] [part two]

˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ touch

˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ you’re no good for me but baby i want you

sorry if its a small amount but its my first time doing something like this, lmk what i should improve! 🫶 (idk how to make dividers)

[sunghoon-cam]

SIGHHH if only someone wanted to match with me

𝆬 𓈒 ⴰ 🧁 my baby 𓈒 ۫ ೀ

[sunghoon-cam]

theres smth abt me and stepdad fics idk what it is 💔

daddy's babygirl

summary: your childhood teacher jake is now your stepdad, and when you’re alone, you share a secret, forbidden, intense affair filled with domination and desire.

pairing: stepdad!jake x stepdaughter!fem reader

genre: smut, explicit adult content, forbidden stepfamily relationship, teacher/student past dynamic, dom/sub with daddy kink, slow burn, secret affair, angst, drama, heavy sexual themes, multiple positions, oral, creampie, emotional manipulation.

warnings: explicit sexual content, incestuous stepfamily relationship, non-consensual power dynamics implied, age gap, dirty talk, degradation, strong language, exhibitionism, oral sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, emotional manipulation, secrecy, potential triggering themes.

STRONG WARNING!! this content contains sensitive themes such as forbidden family relationships, power dynamics, and explicit sexual material. if these topics make you uncomfortable or aren’t your preference, please do not read or leave hateful comments. respect and understanding appreciated. thank you.

wc: 5k

notes: don’t ask me where i got the inspiration for this lol 🤣 ok no for real i hope you like it, i’ve had this idea for a while but hesitated bc of how sensitive the topic is??? even tho i’ve read a lot of similar stuff here, i know it’s kinda taboo or frowned upon. but it’s all fiction and i write it for those who enjoy my content :) thank you all!! please leave your thoughts!

taglist: @hrtsformark @matchacake2 @sea-moon-star @itaehynz @mymayaship @reep04 @lexieisyourbestie @princesspeachicedtea @partyinthebackroom

it had been years since you’d last seen jake sim, and yet the memory of him had never really faded. back in primary school, he had been the teacher everyone liked—young, effortlessly charming, patient in a way that made you look forward to every day you had him. he never raised his voice, he always smelled like cedar and something faintly sweet, and his soft smiles lingered in your mind much longer than they should’ve for a little girl with a secret crush on her homeroom teacher. he was your first real fantasy, tucked away in the back of your mind like a guilty treasure you never planned to admit to anyone. but time passed, as it always does, and he was filed into that distant, unreachable place where childhood dreams went to quietly die.

until now.

your mother had been glowing the day she called you home, her voice light and airy as she said she had someone special she wanted you to meet. you hadn’t expected much—just another name to eventually forget, just another dinner to get through with a polite smile. you certainly hadn’t expected her to walk into the living room with jake fucking sim at her side, his arm loosely wrapped around her waist, that same smile on his lips that had once haunted your preteen daydreams. he looked even better now, age only sharpening the edges of his jaw, filling out his frame with something more solid, more commanding. his hair was darker, styled a little differently, but his eyes were still the same—warm, brown, and gently unreadable.

“you remember jake, don’t you?” your mother had asked, her voice chipper, oblivious. “he used to be your teacher. small world, right?”

you tried to play it off, tried to force a surprised smile that didn’t look as stunned as you felt, but the blood had drained from your face too quickly and your lips parted before you could control them. of course you remembered. he had been the blueprint of every silly romantic fantasy you’d ever had, the reason you started liking older men in the first place, the quiet storm that awakened something hot and confusing in you when you were barely old enough to understand it. and now—now he was your stepfather. your fucking stepfather.

the wedding had been small and quick, not even a year after they’d started dating. you smiled in photos, clinked glasses during toasts, hugged jake when it was appropriate. you kept your distance when it wasn’t. you’d convinced yourself you were being dramatic, that your feelings were just nostalgia and hormones, that he was just a man, and your mom was happy now, so you should be too. and for the most part, you managed. you were in university now, busy with exams and essays, and you didn’t even live in the same house. you only came back on weekends or for holidays—short bursts of time where you could avoid being alone with him, where you could keep yourself sane.

but then came the weekend your mom had to visit your grandmother, three cities away. she left on a thursday afternoon, bags packed and cheerful goodbyes tossed over her shoulder, her voice echoing from the hallway that she’d be back sunday evening, and to take care of each other. jake had offered to drive her, but she insisted he stay—he had grading to finish, classes to prepare. you had exams to study for, so you hadn’t planned on going either. it wasn’t supposed to be a big deal. a few quiet days at home. easy.

except it wasn’t.

the house felt too quiet with just the two of you. every sound was louder, every interaction thicker with something unspoken. he was kind, attentive in that same subtle way that had always undone you—asking how your studying was going, offering to help if you needed a break, his voice low and calm whenever it caught you off guard in the kitchen or the hallway. he smiled at you like he always had, except now it lingered just a little too long. he didn’t look away as quickly anymore. and maybe you were imagining it, maybe you were projecting every filthy thought you’d buried deep down onto every glance and gesture—but something in the air was shifting, slowly, maddeningly, and you could feel it.

you didn’t plan to have dinner together, but jake insisted that night. it was saturday. he leaned against the kitchen counter with a glass of wine in his hand and said it made no sense to eat separately when it was just the two of you. “besides,” he said, tilting his head slightly, eyes scanning your face like he was trying to read it. “i haven’t had a real conversation with you in weeks. feels like you’re avoiding me.”

you laughed too quickly, denying it without really denying it, trying not to focus on the way his voice sounded thicker when he spoke softly like that. you ended up sitting across from him, legs brushing under the table, wine warming your veins more than it should’ve. the food was good—he’d cooked, of course he had, because jake sim was perfect like that—and the conversation was easy, almost too easy. you talked about classes, books, music, and when your hand reached for your glass at the same time his did, your fingers touched and stayed there, barely, just long enough for the world to tilt a little.

you didn’t move your hand away, and neither did he. your eyes lifted slowly, caught in his gaze before you could pretend to be unaffected. something in the way he looked at you made your stomach twist—not fatherly, not polite, not innocent. it was too still, too focused, like he’d been waiting. the silence stretched between you, heavy and intimate, until he finally leaned in just a little closer and said your name—low, drawn-out, like a question and an answer all at once.

“do you think i haven’t noticed?” he asked, his voice quieter now, like it wasn’t meant for anyone but you. “the way you look at me? like you used to when you were too young to understand it.”

your breath caught in your throat. the wine had made you reckless, or maybe it was just the years of keeping everything bottled up, the months of pretending this house wasn’t suffocating you every time he was near. you didn’t deny it. you couldn’t. and maybe that was all he needed, because the next thing you knew, his hand was under your chin, tilting your face up, thumb grazing your bottom lip.

“you’ve grown up so much,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “beautiful. all this time i thought i was imagining it, but you want this, don’t you?”

you didn’t answer with words. you didn’t need to. your lips parted under his thumb, your thighs pressing together under the table, and when he leaned in the rest of the way and kissed you, it was nothing like your first kiss was supposed to be. it was desperate, hungry, years of suppressed want spilling over in the heat of his mouth. he kissed you like he was claiming you, and you let him. you kissed him back like you’d been waiting your whole life to be kissed like that—by him.

his hands were on your waist, pulling you out of the chair and up against him before you could think. your back bumped against the counter as he pushed between your thighs, his fingers trailing under the hem of your shirt, dragging up your spine and leaving your skin tingling in his wake. the kiss broke only when he had to pull your top off, lips returning to your collarbone, your throat, your jaw, biting and sucking like he couldn’t decide which part of you he wanted most.

“fuck, you taste the same as i imagined,” he muttered, voice ragged as his mouth found your chest, tongue swirling over one nipple before he sucked it into his mouth, making you gasp and arch into him. “i used to jerk off thinking about what you’d sound like. now i get to hear it.”

his words went straight to your core, shameless and raw, and it made your knees weak. you tried to speak, tried to say his name, but all that came out was a breathy whimper as his hand slid between your thighs, palming you over your shorts, feeling how wet you already were for him. you should’ve felt embarrassed—he was your mother’s husband now, a man you were supposed to call family—but all you felt was heat, like every nerve in your body was pulsing in time with his fingers.

“you’re soaked,” he growled, pushing your shorts down roughly, dropping to his knees like he was worshipping you, like this was something he’d been craving for years. he spread your legs open, hooking them over his shoulders, and dragged his tongue over your slit with a low groan. “this pussy’s been waiting for me, hasn’t it? fuck, i knew you wanted it. you were always such a good little girl in class… never thought you’d be such a needy thing underneath.”

you cried out when he sucked your clit into his mouth, one hand gripping the edge of the counter, the other tangled in his hair as he devoured you like it was his last meal. he didn’t stop, didn’t slow down, just kept licking, circling, fucking you with his tongue until your legs were shaking and your stomach was tightening with an orgasm that was already starting to hit.

“j-jake—” you gasped, broken and breathless, but he didn’t stop.

“that’s it,” he whispered against you, wet mouth hot and sinful. “cum on my tongue, baby. show me how much you missed me.”

and you did—your body tensed and trembled as the orgasm ripped through you, your moans filling the kitchen, your thighs squeezing around his head. he groaned into you, drinking every drop, only pulling back when you were twitching and weak, your hands clutching at him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded.

but he didn’t give you a moment to recover. he stood, licking his lips like a man starved, and turned you around with firm hands, bending you over the counter before you could speak. his cock was hard against your ass, straining through his pants, and when he finally freed it, the weight of it rested hot and heavy between your cheeks.

“you have no idea how long i’ve wanted this,” he hissed, lining himself up without warning. “how many nights i thought about bending you over like this, fucking you until you couldn’t think straight.”

you whined at the stretch when he pushed inside—no teasing, no patience, just the thick slide of his cock sinking into your already dripping cunt. the pain was brief, eclipsed by the overwhelming fullness, the way he groaned like he was losing his mind inside you.

“tight fucking pussy,” he muttered, gripping your hips and thrusting in deeper, sharper. “so good. fuck—i’m not pulling out.”

you whimpered, back arching, pushing into every stroke. “d-don’t. i don’t want you to.”

that broke something in him. his hands grabbed your waist harder, slamming into you now with each thrust, the sound of skin on skin echoing off the walls. he was grunting behind you, dirty praise falling from his lips with every snap of his hips.

“you want me to fill you up, huh? want your stepdaddy’s cum inside you?” he groaned. “fuck, i’m gonna give it to you. you deserve it. all of it.”

you were crying now, overwhelmed with the pace, the filth of his words, the way he was fucking you like he owned you. you didn’t care that it was wrong. you didn’t care about anything except how deep he was, how hot his body felt against yours, how much you wanted to be ruined by him.

“say it,” he growled, pulling your hair to lift your face. “tell me whose pussy this is.”

“y-yours,” you choked out, lips trembling, eyes rolling back as your second orgasm built fast, relentless. “it’s yours, jake—fuck—it’s always been yours.”

and with a loud groan, he slammed in to the hilt and spilled inside you, thick, hot, and endless, painting your insides with everything he’d been holding back. the feeling of it sent you spiraling again, another wave crashing over you, leaving you both breathless, sweaty, and trembling against the counter.

he didn’t pull out right away. he stayed buried inside you, his hand smoothing down your back, mouth pressed to your shoulder as you both caught your breath. the silence returned, but now it was different—sated, sticky, full of everything you couldn’t say out loud.

“we’re fucked, aren’t we?” you whispered, half-laughing, half-crying.

he chuckled against your skin, still inside you. “yeah,” he said. “but you were worth every second of it.”

you didn’t sleep that night—not really. after the first time on the kitchen counter, jake had pulled you into his arms like he couldn’t get enough of you, kissing you slow and filthy before carrying you to the living room couch and fucking you there too, bent over the backrest while his fingers dug into your hips. then the stairs—he stopped halfway to kiss you again, to press you against the railing and take you standing up, slow and deep, like he wanted to feel every inch of you clenching around him.

he didn’t stop until you were crying—raw and overstimulated, his cum dripping from between your thighs, lips bruised from how hard he kissed you when you called him “daddy.” you said it the first time barely above a whisper, unsure if it would cross a line, but the way his breath hitched, the way he looked at you like you were his undoing, told you everything you needed to know.

“say it again,” he had groaned, thrusting harder, his hand gripping your throat as he fucked you on his bed—your mother’s bed. “say it while i’m deep inside this sweet little pussy.”

and you had, over and over, until your voice was hoarse and your body collapsed under the weight of everything you’d held in for so long. you lost count of how many times he came inside you, how many times he kissed your tears away, how many times he praised you for being his good girl, his sweet baby, his filthy little secret.

by morning, you were sore, bruised, and still trembling from the ghost of his touch. you showered in silence, pretending like your body didn’t still ache for him, like you hadn’t screamed his name against a wall just hours ago. when your mom finally returned, cheerful and none the wiser, you met jake’s gaze across the kitchen with heat still burning in your cheeks.

from that day on, everything changed—but nothing did.

he never touched you in front of her. never said a word that might give you away. but the looks were enough. the glances that lingered, the faint smirk he wore when you bit your lip across the room. the way he’d let his fingers brush your waist when he walked behind you, or how his hand would rest a second too long on your shoulder when he passed by. it became a routine—a dangerous, delicious secret that only the two of you shared.

on the nights your mom worked late or left town again, he’d knock softly on your door like he was asking permission, and you’d always let him in. sometimes he’d take his time, laying you down gently, whispering how much he missed being inside you. other nights he’d flip you over and fuck you face-down into the mattress, hand tangled in your hair as you begged for more, crying into the sheets as he told you what a perfect little slut you were for him.

you were submissive in ways you hadn’t even known you could be—so eager to please, so needy when he praised you. you melted every time he called you baby, whimpered every time he held your face and said you were his. and calling him daddy—it wasn’t just part of the game. it was instinct. it felt right. natural. like it had always belonged to him.

but of course, that didn’t go unnoticed.

one evening, your mom smiled casually as she stirred a pot on the stove, glancing over her shoulder when she heard you call out for jake from across the hall.

“you’ve really taken a liking to him,” she laughed. “never thought i’d hear you call anyone daddy again. thought you were too old for that kind of thing.”

you froze, your heart thudding so hard you thought it might explode. jake was behind her, and you felt his eyes on you instantly, hot and sharp like a warning—but his face didn’t change. he was good at this. calm. unreadable. he just sipped from his glass of wine and smiled like the comment didn’t mean anything.

“she’s just affectionate,” he said smoothly, like it was the most innocent thing in the world. “i don’t mind.”

your mom hummed, turning back to the stove with a shrug. “still,” she muttered, half to herself, “doesn’t really suit her anymore. that’s a little girl’s nickname, don’t you think?”

you almost laughed. if only she knew how many times you’d sobbed it into his neck, how many times he’d made you say it while you came all over his cock, how many times he whispered back, “good girl. daddy’s so proud of you.”

but she didn’t know. she’d never know.

the rain had started sometime past midnight, loud against the windows, steady and relentless. the thunder rolled deep, shaking the walls of the house with each distant rumble, and it was that sound—more than anything else—that stirred you from your light sleep. you blinked up at the ceiling, your room dimly lit by the occasional flash of lightning, heart fluttering with something that wasn’t quite fear… more like anticipation.

you bit your lip, glancing toward the hallway.

you shouldn’t.

but you wanted to.

moments before bed, jake had visited you in your room like he sometimes did—just to check in, to say goodnight. he’d kissed your forehead, then your cheek, and then, like always, your lips. it was soft at first, but you’d reached up and pulled him closer, whispering “more,” against his mouth. he pulled back, breath shaky, eyes flicking toward the door as if he expected someone to walk in.

“baby,” he had murmured, brushing your hair back. “your mom’s waiting for me in bed.”

you’d pouted, lips still tingling from his kiss, and tilted your head as you asked, “do you love me more than her?”

he’d hesitated—just for a second—but then he smiled, small and fond, like he was embarrassed by how quickly the truth came out.

“yeah,” he said, voice quiet. “i love you more.”

then he left, walking down the hall to the master bedroom where your mother waited—dressed in a short satin nightgown, her skin dewy from moisturizer and sleepiness. you knew the routine. she was always tired. she always took her pills, the kind that knocked her out cold. jake had told you once, in passing, that nothing ever woke her up when she took them.

so when you heard the storm rolling outside, something bold stirred in your chest. the house was silent except for the rain, the soft ticking of the grandfather clock downstairs, and your own heartbeat in your ears. you slipped out of bed, your cotton shorts riding up your thighs, the hem of your camisole brushing your navel. no bra, no panties. you tiptoed barefoot through the hallway, every creak in the floorboard echoing like a gunshot, but you didn’t stop. your fingers trembled slightly as you reached for the doorknob to their room, slowly turning it and pushing the door open just wide enough to slip inside.

the room was dark, heavy with the scent of lavender and cologne. lightning lit the walls for a split second, revealing the silhouette of your mother fast asleep, turned away from the center of the bed, blanket drawn up loosely around her hips. jake was on the other side, shirtless, lying flat on his back with one arm resting above his head, chest rising and falling slowly with each breath. the space beside him was wide—just enough for you, if you were careful.

you held your breath as you padded closer and crawled in beside him, inching your body down into the mattress as slowly as possible. you curled on your side, your back pressed lightly to his hip, trying not to smile as you settled in. the heat of his body seeped into yours. you could feel him—barely—against the curve of your ass, and the moment you shifted just slightly, you felt the swell of his cock, half-hard, thick and heavy against you even in sleep.

you arched your back a little more, grinding slowly, gently, testing.

a soft inhale escaped him.

then a hand touched your waist.

“baby,” he whispered groggily, voice husky from sleep, “what are you doing here?”

you turned your head just enough to look at him over your shoulder, eyes wide, pouty. “the storm woke me up,” you murmured, still rolling your hips back against him, “and i got scared.”

his breath hitched when your ass pressed more firmly to his length, now fully hard and twitching against the thin fabric of his sweatpants. “fuck,” he mumbled under his breath, one hand sliding down to grip your hip tightly. “you’re gonna drive me insane.”

you reached down without answering and pulled at the waistband of his pants, lifting the fabric just enough to free his cock, already thick and leaking at the tip. you heard the sharp breath he took when your fingers wrapped around him, stroking slowly. he pushed his hips forward into your hand, biting down a groan.

then, still without a word, he hooked a finger into the waistband of your pink shorts and dragged them down over your ass. the air was cool against your bare skin, and you felt his hand pause when he realized you weren’t wearing anything underneath.

“naughty little thing,” he whispered, dragging two fingers along your slit, feeling how wet you were. “you planned this.”

you didn’t deny it. you just moaned quietly when he rubbed circles against your clit, pressing his forehead to your shoulder, his other hand reaching to squeeze your breast through your thin top.

he didn’t waste time. he positioned himself behind you, pulling your leg back over his thigh, and eased his cock into you slowly, the tip splitting you open as you tried to keep your moans muffled. he hissed through his teeth as he bottomed out, his fingers digging into your hips.

“so fucking tight,” he whispered, moving in slow, deep strokes. “you feel too good, baby.”

you rocked back into him, eyes fluttering shut, the sheets rustling beneath you as your bodies moved together. his hand came up to your mouth, covering your lips as he fucked you from behind, spooned up against you, every thrust making your ass slap against his hips.

“quiet,” he breathed, “she’s right there.”

your eyes opened in the dark, and you saw her—still asleep, facing away, barely moving. the thrill of it made your pussy clamp down tighter, made jake curse softly and fuck you harder.

he turned you over slowly, gently, until you were on your back and he was above you, lifting your shirt to expose your chest. he leaned down to suck your nipple into his mouth, his cock never leaving you, just grinding deeper as he kissed down your stomach, whispering filthy things about how good you felt, how beautiful you looked stretched out for him in their bed.

“i love you,” he muttered into your skin, voice cracked and breathless. “you’re mine.”

you wrapped your legs around him, pulled him in closer, and whispered, “fuck me, daddy. please. make me yours.”

that broke him. his hips snapped harder, deeper, hands grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head as he pounded into you in the missionary position, the bed creaking ever so slightly. he fucked you like he owned you, kissing you hard, letting you moan into his mouth when you came all over him again.

afterward, he didn’t stop—he flipped you onto your knees and took you from behind, gripping your hair, his balls slapping your soaked pussy with each brutal thrust. you were delirious, dripping, sobbing into the pillows while your mom snored on just feet away. it wasn’t enough for him—he pulled out and turned you over again, sitting back on his knees and tapping his cock against your lips.

“suck it, baby,” he whispered, “you can do it.”

you obeyed, eyes glassy, tongue out, taking him into your mouth until your jaw ached and your throat was raw. he watched you the whole time, stroking your cheek, whispering that you were his good girl, his sweet baby, his favorite thing in the world.

you climbed on top of him after that, straddling his hips, riding him slowly, hands on his chest, tits bouncing with each movement. his hands slid up your thighs, gripping your ass, his cock deep inside you as you rocked back and forth, whispering his name over and over like a prayer.

you lost track of the thunder outside, of the minutes slipping past, of everything except the way jake’s cock kept hitting that perfect spot inside you—like he knew your body better than anyone ever could.

his hands gripped your thighs tight, eyes locked on your face as he fucked you harder now, his body pressing yours deeper into the bed. the headboard tapped lightly against the wall, not loud enough to wake her, but enough to make your heart race with the risk.

you opened your mouth to moan, but his palm flew to your lips, muffling the cry that broke out when he bottomed out again, his cock so deep you swore you could feel him in your throat.

“shhh, baby,” he whispered, sweat dripping down his neck, chest heaving, “you wanna wake her up?”

you shook your head, pupils blown wide, legs trembling.

“then be good,” he murmured, lowering himself until his forehead pressed to yours, his cock still slamming into you slow and thick and hard. “be a good girl and take it.”

you nodded, tears in your eyes from how much you needed it. needed him.

“you feel how this pussy sucks me in?” he breathed, lifting one of your legs higher, fucking you deeper. “so fucking tight. so warm. it’s perfect, baby. this is mine.”

your voice cracked under his palm as you whimpered, grinding up into him. and then you whispered it—low, dangerous, full of wicked curiosity.

“does it feel better than hers?”

he paused.

then he looked you dead in the eyes, smirked, and answered without hesitation.

“yours is better,” he growled, grabbing your jaw, pulling your face close, “your pussy’s the only one i think about. the only one i wanna cum in. you hear me?”

you moaned again, too loud, and his hand came back over your mouth, his thrusts speeding up as you clenched around him from the filthy confession.

then he pulled out suddenly, panting, and sat back against the headboard, his cock glistening, twitching. “ride me,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “come sit on daddy’s cock.”

you didn’t need to be told twice. you climbed over him, straddling his lap slowly, lowering yourself onto his length with a desperate gasp. the stretch made your back arch, his hands coming up to hold your waist as you started to move—slow at first, rolling your hips in circles, grinding your clit against him with every pass.

he leaned in and sucked your nipple into his mouth, then kissed down to your chest, whispering, “that’s it, baby. let daddy see how much you love this dick.”

you bounced harder, faster, the mattress shifting beneath you, and jake grabbed your ass, slapping it once as you rode him.

“look at you,” he moaned, “bouncing like a desperate little slut while your mommy sleeps next to us. if only she knew how many times i’ve filled this pussy.”

you clenched again at that, and your body shook as another orgasm crashed through you, your cunt milking his cock with messy wet sounds as he held you down and let you grind through the aftershocks.

but you still weren’t done.

he pulled out, spun you around, pushed your chest into the mattress and lifted your hips high—doggy. his favorite. he slammed back into you without warning, and you screamed into the pillow, his fingers digging into your hips, his cock slamming into you over and over until you were crying.

“say it,” he groaned behind you, “say you’re daddy’s girl.”

“i’m your girl,” you sobbed into the sheets, barely able to breathe. “i’m your good girl, daddy.”

“that’s fucking right.”

his balls slapped your clit, your pussy gushed around him, and he was grunting, fucking you with long, brutal strokes as his pace grew erratic.

“gonna cum again,” he warned, grabbing your hair, arching your back. “gonna fill you up. again.”

“please,” you begged, “please, daddy, cum in me. fill me up.”

he slammed into you one last time, as deep as he could go, and his whole body tensed as he spilled inside you, hot and thick, his cock twitching as he emptied himself into your already ruined pussy. you could feel it dripping out around his cock before he even pulled out, and when he finally did, it made a wet sound—your cum and his, mixed and leaking down your thighs.

he collapsed beside you, panting, pulling you into his arms, your bodies completely naked, sticky, tangled in sweat and sin and everything you weren’t supposed to be.

you curled into his chest, heart still pounding, and whispered, barely audible—

“i love you, daddy.”

he kissed your temple, still inside the bed where his wife slept a foot away, and whispered it back without hesitation.

“i love you too, baby. more than anything.”

[sunghoon-cam]

HELLO?????

LO$ER LOVER | PSH

pairing: loser!sunghoon x roommate fem!reader

wc: 1110 words.

warning: 18+ content, minors dni! loser hoon headcanons, gooner hoon, mentions of him being a pervert.

a/n: hihii! this is honestly js filth! requested by anonnie <3 all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated <3

loser!sunghoon who blushes furiously each time you walk into the kitchen in your skimpy tank top with no bra, averting his gaze before he gets hard at the mere glimpse of the outline of your body—perfectly sculpted just for him. 

loser!sunghoon who starts gooning by accident. it begins with your insta, then your videos/tiktoks, then a few of your pics he saves to a secret folder—the pictures he took without you noticing. then it spirals as he opens porn, saved videos consisting of the girls who resemble you in some way. he edges for hours while listening to your laugh through the wall, and doesn’t even realize it’s three in the morning already.

loser!sunghoon who recorded your moans through the wall one night, and now? he keeps them on loop while gooning. eyes glassy, tongue out like a puppy. he doesn’t even touch himself anymore—just rubs your used panties on his face while humping the bed, whispering “thank you, ugh, i love you so much, i love you, i—” like he’s praying for you to listen to him. 

loser!sunghoon who starts stuffing his underwear with your used panties when he goes to bed. can’t sleep without them anymore, the scent of your pussy on his cock, the soft lace clinging desperately to his skin—he wakes up rutting into them, making these helpless little gasps like a fucking dog in heat. he doesn’t stop, just buries his face in your used clothes, tears streaming as he goons through the shame. “fuck, i wanna live in her cunt,” he mumbled, “wanna be her toy, her cumrag, her fucking pet—please, god please.”

loser!sunghoon who loses the ability to cum without you. he tries, oh he really fucking tries to finish one night with just cheap porn, and nothing happens. he panics, gasping and opens your selfies. he plays that recording of your moans and starts drooling instantly, exploding the very next second with a choked whimper, body twitching, cum splattering across his keyboard. he doesn’t even clean it up. just lets it dry while he thanks you out loud for letting him be lewd each passing day. 

loser!sunghoon who needs your approval like he needs air. he tries on outfits, fixes his hair, practices his laugh in hopes you’ll look at him for more than three seconds. and when you do? when you say, “you look cute today, hoonie,” he goes stiff, hard instantly, and smiles through the ache in his cock like he’s not going to fall apart in the shower later.

loser!sunghoon who starts showing off how ruined he is, walking around shirtless when he knows he has hickeys he gave himself. leaves his door slightly open while moaning your name into your hoodie. he wants you to catch him, wants you to walk in and say, “fucking hell? you’re disgusting.” and wants to say “i know,” while making a mess on the floor.

loser!sunghoon who loves movie nights because you always let him cuddle you, he acts like it’s innocent, just a shy, affectionate roomie thing to do, gasping at the jump scares, squeezing your waist, but every time you shift, your tits press against his arm, and when you finally doze off, head on his chest, he slowly moves his hand down to your bare thigh, just resting it there, biting his lip, humping your blanket gently to not wake you up, sniffing your scent to practically cum untouched. 

loser!sunghoon who gets bold enough to “accidentally” walk in while you’re changing, and he doesn’t even try to pretend he’s not looking, his glasses are slipping, his mouth is open as he gasps, and he stares at your tits like he’s seen god.“s—sorry! sorry i, oh fuck—” he stumbles out of the room, nearly tripping, and finishes in the hallway seconds later, cum soaking through his boxers while he pants, “i saw her—i fucking saw how pretty she is.”

loser!sunghoon who fakes being sick just to sleep beside you, eyes watery and cheeks flushed from running hot water over his face, practically torturing himself for pleasure—he sniffles and clutches his blanket like he’s the most fragile being ever, moaning softly when you touch his forehead, and nearly cums when you whisper, “you poor baby,” before tucking him into your bed again and staying with him. 

loser!sunghoon who has to set goon timers otherwise he’ll spend hours and hours edging to your photos—his phone blaring alarms while he’s red and flushed, half-naked, sobbing over his laptop with your sweet videos paused at the perfect frame, whimpering, “just one more hour, just one more, gosh please, i’ll be s—so good.”

loser!sunghoon who starts using your body like his fucking altar when you’re asleep, or so he thinks, but you know how much of a perverted loser he is—sucking gently on your nipple under the covers, whimpering against it with glassy eyes, humping the mattress in tiny movements while crying, “i love you—i love you, i’m sorry, i can’t stop—please don’t wake up.” he mumbles and you let him do it, because you’re just as depraved. 

loser!sunghoon who confesses when thinks you’re asleep. you’re curled up on his bed again, still wearing next your oversized shirt, and you accidentally shift in your sleep and grind your ass against his crotch, and he moans. he starts whispering as his voice cracks, “i’m sorry—i can’t stop thinking about you! i dream about your pussy every night, i touched your panties—i came in them—i came from your smell—” his hands are shaking, his cock is harder than ever, and he’s not even trying to grind on you anymore—he’s just so desperate he can’t hold it in, not knowing that you’re awake and listening, “hoonie?” you ask, and he starts crying like a baby. 

loser!sunghoon who sobs into your chest after getting caught, his hands clutching your waist like you’re going to vanish, stuttering out, “i didn’t mean to—i’m so fucked up, i just—i love you, i love your body, i would die for you,” and when you pull his head down to your tits and whisper, chuckling, “oh baby, i know,” he whimpers so hard his whole body shakes.

loser!sunghoon who cums untouched just from simple the act of licking you, too ruined to even last, spilling all over himself while you stroke his hair and tell him he’s such a good puppy for eating you out so fucking well—he keeps crying, shaking between your legs, but doesn’t stop licking, doesn’t even flinch, just shakes through the aftershocks of the best orgasm he’s ever had, and keeps on worshipping you. 

perm taglist:

@jaeminvore @macaroonff @ajayke-reads @en-myworld @lunalovesstories @jayzdaze @deobitifull @celeste-hoon @mari-oclock @kpoprhia @ikeuizm @woniebae @lalalalawon @blessedcursd @skzenhalove @heesuncore @seuomo @kyurizeu @haechan-nahceah @tobiosbbyghorl @jezzebear @jaehoonii @itsgivingitalian @bunhoons @hyacandoit @luvswonyoung @ma-riiii @addictedtohobi @heeliopheelia @haanigurl @dopedels @kaykay11sworld @glitterjay @skzooluvr @yongbokified @prkhaven @kristynaaah @tinycatharsis @filmnings @mwahvvis @hoonprksung @mintchocoddeonut @lezleeferguson-120 @s0shroe @onlyticket-home @meowieshibal

© jaylaxies | tumblr

[sunghoon-cam]

Power Play pt.2

sub!boss Jake x co-worker!dom reader (ft.jay)

CONTENT ↠ nsfw! smut!, sub Jake, dom reader, needy sub attitude, power play, sexual tension, worship/mommy kink, toys, edging, cum denial, servitude kink, head recieving, overstimulation, premature climax, degradation play, rope, fluff and romance (what should i say i'm a romantic...),yapper Jake is my shit, feat Jay my love !!

WORDCOUNT ↠ 11k~ (no proof reader yet !)

Part 2 of Power Play is here!! 💥 I rushed this one out early just for @ri4-lovesenha, @raven-unkind & @bambiihee I promised, more sub!Jake 💗 It’s freakier than Part 1 since they’re in a full sub/dom dynamic now

It’s been two months since Jake Sim — golden manager, corporate darling, quiet wet dream of half the women in the building — officially became yours. Not yours in the polite, romantic, LinkedIn-appropriate way. No. Yours in the real, stripped-down under-the-table kind of way. Yours like : “get on your knees and don’t speak unless I let you.” Yours like: “you’ll cum when I say so — not a second before.” And he’d thanked you for it. Every fucking time. His eyes glossy, mouth open, gratitude pouring off him like sweat.

You’re dom and sub now. Officially! And the active kind, not the online-inspo-board, “I call him sir on weekends” kind. You’d made it clear from day one that if you were going to do this, it would be structured, with intention. You’re a professional after all. PowerPoint-level organization, calendar reminders, one session per week— minimum—On Friday night. Penciled between boardroom battles and email chains that could kill a man.

But somewhere along the way, it stopped being just about rules. Because Jake... Yeah, Jake freaking Sim was not just a perfect boss. And not just a needy sub begging to be ruined. He also was—and god help you— one of the cutest men alive.

You noticed it one Sunday, when he spent twenty quiet minutes fidgeting with your nails, a dumb smile on his face, while you both watched a documentary on Roman history. Then again the next week, when he curled up against you with a book in one hand and the other idly tugging at your hoodie string like a cat in a sunbeam. And don’t even get started on the nipple thing. It was endearing until it wasn’t—until one night he got so carried away stroking and pinching slowly harder and harder, that your tits actually hurt the next morning, and you had to ban him from even looking at them without explicit clearance. He apologized with a handwritten note and home somthings that looked like breakfast. You accepted.

So yes, it’s… domestic. Comfortable. The line between scenes and real life began to blur in the softest ways. Now, it’s a habit—to eat together after a particularly brutal night. To shower together and split the loofah like sinners trying to cleanse their sins. You don’t cuddle. Not officially. But he sleeps better with his head on your lap or your belly and your fingers carding through his hair... So you let him.

And at work? Nothing’s changed.

Jake is still the picture of leadership — polished, poised, too damn polite for his own good. And you? You’re still you. Frost-edged, perfectly put together, politely untouchable. But now, he belongs to you. Which makes things easier. Especially on days like today.

Days like this.

flushed like he’s about to combust, back to the wall, eyes wide. You’d texted him mid-meeting, one line, no emoji.

You’ve got four minutes, meet me in the west wing bathroom... Women’s

And he obeyed. Because he always obeys. He slipped in like a shadow, breath already shaky, pupils blown wide with anticipation.

You follow heels sharp on the tile, sliding the lock with a metallic click that might as well have sealed his fate. You don’t speak. Just turn around and corner him, pressing close — so close your chest brushes his tie, your perfume curling around his brain like a noose.

“Pants,” you murmur, voice soft but razor-sharp.

He obeys. Too fast. Belt unbuckled, zipper down, trousers around his knees. You catch a glimpse of the tip — flushed, already leaking. Boxers thin and helpless, no barrier at all.

And then you lean in.

Your hand slides between you — slow, casual — until your palm cups him through the fabric. And god, he whimpers.

Your fingers flex around his cock, pressing, not stroking — just reminding him who owns it. Who decides what he gets, and when. He jerks in your hand like it’s the first time anyone’s ever touched him.

You lean closer, lips against the shell of his ear, and smile.

“You think I brought you in here to suck you off like you were good?”

He twitches. “I—I thought—”

“Oh, baby,” you purr. “You’re so far from good.”

From your bag, you pull out a device — a sleek little ring of black silicone and a small chrome design, smooth and sexy. Jake recognizes it immediately. His breath stutters. He looks like he might cry from hope.

“Boxers off.”

They hit the floor instantly. You kneel, slide the ring over his cock and balls in one practiced motion. And he gasps high and wrecked, nearly collapsing against the stall door. Then you reach into your bag again and lift your phone — screen glowing, the app already open.

His eyes blow wide.

“You’ll wear it through the rest of the day,” you say, tapping the setting labeled 'steady pulse', watching him twitch in real time as the gentle hum starts low. “Meeting starts in ten. If you can hold it together...”

You glance up from beneath your lashes, smile wickedly.

“Dinner’s on me.”

He blinks, almost breathless. Gasping at your finger working the app.

“And tonight,” you whisper, licking your lips just to fuck with him, “you can ask for anything.”

He nods too fast, “Anything?”

You smile.

“Anything your little broken brain can think of, mr. Sim.”

You kiss the tip of his cock, just once to tease him. Enough to make him moan through his gritted teeth.

“Then pull it together,” you whisper, stepping back. “And fix your pants. You’re late.”

Then you leave him there, red-faced and straining, cock caged, soul on fire.

And at 4:05 sharp, Jake Sim enters the conference room with his tie too tight, his glasses perfectly straight, and his eyes locked on the PowerPoint like it’s the only thing keeping him from whimpering.

And you? You take your seat across from him. And just before the first slide clicks onto the screen, you reach for your phone.

Tap.

And watch him flinch. Like he lives for it.

Jake lasts.

Somehow.

Through the entire finance review, even when you tap the “pulse” setting mid-sentence while asking for clarification on Q3 projections — his voice hitching slightly, just enough for only you to notice.

He even makes it through the all-hands. Barely. Sweat beading at his temple, legs clenched tight, knuckles white where he grips his own wrist under the desk like he’s seconds from buckling. You watch him like a hawk, occasionally flicking your phone open just to see that tiny icon still glowing in the corner of the screen. Active. Synced. Steady.

At one point, you accidentally hit the "randomized wave" setting while stirring your coffee. His pen snaps. Just cracks in half, ink bleeding onto his neat notes, a quiet fuck under his breath that no one but you hears.

By the end of the day, he’s twitchy. Soft-eyed. Glazed.

The moment 6:04 hits, your phone buzzes.

🕛 Mr.Sim Jake (Work): I’ll wait in my office Please

No “Miss.” No punctuation. Just that one word, begging inside its own silence. Please.

You don’t respond. Just close your laptop, smooth your blouse, reapply your lipstick like you’re heading into a negotiation — because in a way, you are. He thinks this is his reward. That he’s about to be used, broken, maybe allowed release if he grovels right.

But you’re not done yet.

You step into his office without knocking, and what greets you nearly makes you laugh.

Jake Sim — polished, professional, always composed — is on the fucking floor.

On. The. Floor.

Suit jacket gone, tie loose and twisted, hair disheveled, pants unbuckled, boxer-briefs pulled taut around his thighs, cock flushed violently red and still caged in that perfect black ring. He’s clutching the carpet like it’ll ground him, gasping, hips twitching like he’s on the edge of a nervous breakdown.

And the second he sees you?

He looks wrecked. Worshipful. Pathetic.

You shut the door behind you and tilt your head like a curious cat.

“You couldn’t even wait on your feet?”

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to— I just— I can’t—”

You wave a hand. Dismissive. “No time for that, baby. I still have work.”

He blinks, like you slapped him with math.

You walk past him — slow, commanding, letting your heels click like a countdown to chaos — and sink onto the couch near the side wall, crossing your legs as if you’re just here to decompress.

From your bag, you pull a slim folder of papers.

“Come here,” you say, tapping the floor in front of the coffee table. “You’re still my superior, aren’t you? Gotta review these before I file.”

Jake crawls.

He actually crawls.

And kneels beside the low table, hands resting obediently on his thighs, lips parted as if he might start panting again. His cock twitches visibly in its ring — red, aching, wet at the tip. You ignore it.

Open the folder.

“You’re going to validate each paragraph for me, Mr. Sim. Verbally.”

He nods quickly.

You start reading aloud. Slowly. Bored, almost.

“Based on the Q2 metrics, we project a 12.4% increase in productivity following the onboarding of—”

“Yes,” he breathes.

One paragraph down.

You scroll your thumb across your phone. Vibrations hum through him.

Next one.

“The reduction in turnaround time aligns with adjusted expectations from last quarter—”

“Yes—” he gasps. A little too breathy.

And then you flick to a new setting. One you’ve been saving.

You hit “Voice Sync Mode.”

Jake twitches violently.

“Oh, right,” you say casually, tapping again. “Almost forgot. New feature. Vibrates based on… voice modulation. Funny, huh?”

You lower your tone, let it dip low and rich.

Jake bucks. Just slightly. Eyes wide, mouth open.

“Say yes for this one.”

“Yes,” he moans.

It triggers again. His hips stutter.

You keep reading. Keep your voice smooth, varied, slightly sing-song in parts just to fuck with him. Every line, every syllable — translated into chaos below the belt.

And he starts losing it.

“Yes,” he pants after every paragraph. Louder. Shakier. More breath than voice now. His hands twitch off his thighs, one dragging toward his cock before he jerks it back with a choked sob like he knows the rules.

By paragraph five, his voice cracks. By seven, he’s humping the air — subtle at first, then not. His head drops to your thigh like it’s the only safe place left on Earth, and he starts rubbing his cheek there. Like a cat in heat. Like a man desperate for grounding in a world that’s unraveling by the second.

You keep reading.

“Final page. If you can make it through—”

But he can’t.

He shudders.

One strangled, broken cry leaves his throat, and you feel the warmth of it — the twitch, the helpless thrust — and then he’s gone. Cumming in his briefs, thick and shameful, whimpering into your thigh, his whole body trembling like a fault line.

You don’t say anything.

Just gently stroke his hair.

Let him breathe.

Let him twitch and shake and sigh into the afterglow like a man who just gave up every ounce of pride he had left and didn’t even want it back.

And when the silence settles, heavy and warm, you finally speak — voice soft, back to that dangerous kind of care that feels more intimate than any orgasm ever could.

“You tried your best,” you murmur, brushing his hair off his forehead. He nods against your leg, ruined.

“Good boy.” Another whimper.

You glance at the clock. Pick up your folder.

“I’m heading home,” you say lightly, gathering your things. “Sleep. Hydrate. Lock the door if you’re gonna clean up here.”

And then you left him there kneeling, soaked, still wearing your ring, like the good little office pet he is.

You couldn’t play on Saturday.

Not because you were too busy, or tired, or felt the shift in the weather deep in your bones — though the forecast did have the nerve to threaten rain just as you left the office. No. You couldn’t play because Saturday, in some inconvenient act of cosmic irony, was your birthday.

A day you kept quiet. Deliberately. Not out of shame, or fear of getting older — god, no. You wore your age like you wore everything else: sharp, polished, with just enough bite to make people hesitate before asking anything too personal. You didn’t need celebration. You had plans to do absolutely nothing. Maybe a glass of wine. Maybe an orgasm. Maybe both at once. Alone.

But Jake, your painfully attentive, painfully eager, painfully good boy Jake… caught on.

You didn’t tell him.

He just knew.

And on Sunday, he asked if you’d still be willing to play. But — and this was where it got suspicious — he asked if you’d have dinner with him first. “Before the session,” he said, too casually. “Just us. I’ll text you the address.”

You agreed. Not thinking much of it.

Until you got there.

Until your heels clicked down the pristine marble hallway of a hotel that had no business being that opulent on a Sunday evening, and the concierge greeted you by name.

Until the elevator opened onto a private suite, and the door — already slightly ajar — creaked open with a whisper.

And there it was.

The dining table, perfectly set beneath dimmed golden lights, with soft music curling through the room like warmth in smoke. Low candles. A bouquet of white orchids. A bottle of red you’d once mentioned liking, twice, months ago. And at the center of the table — a cake. Small. Elegant. Iced in cream. With a single candle.

Jake stood by the far wall, hands behind his back, nervous in a way that didn’t suit him — cheeks pink, eyes flicking toward you like he’d been rehearsing this and still thought he’d fuck it up.

And then.

He sang.

Voice soft, slightly off-key, barely above a whisper — like it wasn’t meant to echo off the chandelier or the crystal glasses. Just for you. Just between the two of you.

Happy birthday to you.

You blinked once. Then again. A breath caught somewhere near your collarbone.

He smiled when he finished. And when you didn’t respond right away, he stepped forward, one hand awkwardly lifting the cake toward you like a shy waiter on his first day.

“It’s got that cream you like,” he said quietly. “Not too sweet. Just—like you.”

And you laughed. You had to. Because this man, this man who moans at your feet with your heel on his throat, just called you not too sweet like that was a compliment.

The dinner was incredible, of course. Not because of the food — though it was excellent — but because of him. Because Jake was attentive in a different way tonight. Still soft. Still sweet. But a little... lighter. He let himself be funny. Made you laugh twice so hard you had to cover your face. His hands trembled when he refilled your glass.

And when dessert came — after the cake, after a gentle toast, after your walls had lowered inch by inch without you realizing — he handed you a gift box.

Long. Sleek. Heavy.

You opened it, and froze.

Thin, stiletto-pointed, patent black high heels.

The expensive kind.

The fucked-up expensive kind.

The kind you’d once pointed at in a store window, laughed, and said, “The only way I’d justify those is if I was allowed to use them to stomp on someone. Otherwise, that price tag is a war crime.”

Jake hadn’t forgotten.

“I remembered,” he said, eyes wide and proud and so goddamn hopeful. “I know it’s kind of dramatic, but you—you said it. And I thought maybe…”

You raised a brow.

“You bought me shoes so I’d step on you?”

He flushed. “N-not just that. I mean—yes. But also… I thought you’d look good in them.”

You stared at him. At the shoes. At the man sitting across from you in a tailored shirt and a slightly shaky smile like he just handed you his throat in a velvet box.

And then you laughed. Low. Delighted.

“Oh, Jake,” you sighed, sliding one heel out of its bed of tissue paper. “You’re so easy.”

His breath hitched.

“You want me to try them on?”

He nodded. Fast. Almost trembling.

So you did. Slowly. Letting the heel dangle on your finger like a weapon before lifting your leg, extending it toward him under the table.

He didn’t even have to be asked. He slid to his knees beside your chair and took your foot in both hands — reverent. Careful. Slipping the shoe on like a prince in a fucked-up fairytale, except he was the one being ruined.

The heel clicked against the floor when you set it down.

He shuddered.

“Do the other,” you murmured, tone already turning silkier, darker.

He obeyed. You leaned back in your chair, legs crossed, watching him fumble slightly with the strap, his breath shallow, fingers lingering just a little too long at your ankle.

You reached down — ran your fingers through his hair, soft and slow — and he melted into the touch like you’d blessed him.

“You’re so predictable,” you whispered, dragging a nail against his scalp. “You see me in new shoes and your first thought is: God, I hope she steps on my cock with them.”

He whined. Whined.

“You’re disgusting,” you added, voice lowering to that tone that made him squirm. “And I’m going to ruin you for thinking you deserved them.”

His eyes fluttered shut and his lips streached in a soft smile. But your fingers didn’t stop stroking. Didn’t stop soothing.

They moved gently through Jake’s hair — soft little passes, nails grazing his scalp. And he leaned into it without thinking, without pride. Just instinct. Like his head was meant to be there, pressed against your thigh, like your hand had become some sacred thing in his world—the thing that settled him, grounded him, reminded him he was owned.

You watched him breathe.

Watched the rise and fall of his shoulders, the trembling hush in his chest — like he couldn’t tell if this was aftercare or the beginning of something worse. And quietly, without words, something warm started to bloom beneath your ribs.

It wasn't just the usual heat and lust. Not the thrill of control you usually fed off of. No, this was quieter, closer to peace. And it wasn't the first time the past two month...

Like, somehow, this— the candlelight, the new shoes, his mouth against your thigh— was exactly where you were supposed to be.

You almost thought it aloud... But no... Nevermind...

Instead, you hummed softly and let your other hand trail down to his cheek, tilting his chin up so he is forced to look at you. He did. Of course he did. Eyes wide and glassy, like something holy had cracked open inside him and spilled out right onto the hotel carpet.

“Remember what I said on Friday?” you murmured. “About rewards?”

Jake blinked, dazed. “Y-yes." His lips parted.

“I said if you were good, you could ask for anything.”

He nodded quickly, eager, already breathing faster.

“And tonight?” You smiled. “You were very, very, very good. Jake.”

Jake’s breath caught, fuck he loves it when you drop the mr. Sim act.

His hands— those shaky, fidgeting, obedient sexy hands— lifted toward his own lap, smoothing his pants like he was trying to behave, trying to stay calm, but already failed. His gaze dropped. He tried to keep eye contact, you know, tried to stay confident. But the moment you gave him permission— real permission— to speak his wants out loud?

He cracked.

“I… um… if I’ve really been good,” he whispered, voice a little pitched, “C-can I…” He hesitated. Swallowed, his eyes on your thighs adjusting himself like it prevented you from seing his hard on. “Can I eat you out again? it's been ages... I want to make you cum, like before. But like, now. On the floor. Or the couch. Or the bed. Wherever. Please—I'll be good, I promise.”

You raised an eyebrow, and smile streached.

“Is that your first wish?” He nodded hesitant. But then his mouth opened again.

Of course...

“And maybe—maybe I could wear the collar? While I do it? Like... Just the collar and nothing else... Like your—your birthday toy.” Y-you can even put me on a leash if you want— please, I’ll be good, I won’t hump your leg unless you let me—”

You bit your bottom lip, just to keep from smiling even more. Man, his brain had slipped its leash the second you gave him permission. It made you wet straightaway.

“And can I… can I touch myself? Not cum, just—just stroke while I do it. Just feel how hard I get from tasting you. And when I finish, you don’t even have to let me cum, you could just—just spit in my mouth and call me your good little fuckhole—”

You didn’t answer. Just kept petting his hair. But he can read you better than you do to him. You don't realise how turned on your face is. Even your grip on his fluffy hair got harder. Fuck, Jake loves you.

Yeah... I love you. Jake bit his lip.

“Or—or you could make me jerk off onto the floor while you watch, and make me beg to make love with you. Like I’m disgusting. Like I don’t even deserve your attention unless I earn it—Or maybe… if I’m really good—”

He stop.

You press your fingers to his lips and he trailed off, eyes fluttered. slidding your finger inbetween his shy plump lips. It was like even saying it was too much. Like he didn't already write the whole fiction of tonight in his head.

“Tell me, Jake.”

He looked down again, cheeks flushed, voice almost too small to hear.

“Can I... Call you Mommy tonight?”

Silence. Tense. Heavy. Drenched in anticipation.

"I know it's not really your thing..." he blabered, "But I was wondering—if maybe... We could try tonight.

Then—

You leaned in, brushed your thumb over his bottom lip, and smiled.

“Oh, my cute puppy,” you purred, letting the word drag like honey down your throat. “You’re going to get everything you asked for.”

He whimpered. Like the word alone undid him. His breath came hot and shaky against your palm. His eyes looked up at you, fully gone — feral, hungry, a little stupid with need. Like he wanted to crawl inside your skin and beg for permission to exist there.

You sank back into the chair like it was your throne — one leg draped over the other in a lazy cross, elbow resting along the back like you had all the time in the world, like you weren’t already wet just from the look on his face — and without a word, you lifted your foot, the sharp new heel catching the light as it hovered by his lips, until he opened up like a trained thing and started mouthing at the pointed tip, desperate, reverent, like kissing your shoe might earn him oxygen.

“Jake, take off your clothes.”

He scrambled.

Shoes. Shirt. Pants. Everything peeled off with frantic sexiness, like each layer was an offense to the role he was meant to play — until he was kneeling there, naked and flushed, chest rising fast, ears pink, cock already half-hard from nothing but the sound of your voice.

And fuck, his body — God, his body — lean and sharp like he was carved from something meant to bleed for you, muscles smooth but defined, not bulked but taut beneath skin that showed every line, every ridge, every twitch. His back, deceptively broad, flexed as he shifted onto his knees, and you caught the way his arms looked almost too toned for someone who claimed to be helpless— the way his veins ran like threads of promise down to those shaking, obedient hands. And when he reached into his bag— of course he brought it, because your good boy always comes prepared— and pulled out his collar without being asked, you nearly sighed, because it was all too much.

Too perfect. Too fucking yours.

He held it out like an offering. And you put it on him. You dragged your heel along his shoulder. He shivered.

“You wanted to worship Mommy tonight?”

He nodded, mouth agape. “Then come show me, be a good dog.”

And when he crawled forward on hands and knees — panting, eyes blown wide, mouth open — you knew : You were going to let him have everything.

Because you loved seeing him like this, loved it... Your game... You... loved him ?

Maybe...

He reached your knees. And then he groaned. Loud and wrecked.

Your panties — soaked. He buried his face in them immediately, moaning into the fabric, licking you through it like he’d been starved for days and finally stumbled upon a feast. You stayed still, head tilted, watching him degrade himself with quiet fascination.

And then he used his teeth — gently at first, then not — dragging the lace aside, tearing holes in the delicate fabric just to get to you, to taste you raw, no barriers, no patience.

The moment his tongue touched your pussy, he let out the most pathetic sound — a sob disguised as a moan — and you saw it in his whole body: the way his arms trembled, the way his shoulders rolled forward, the way his hips twitched helplessly against the carpet.

Like worship was killing him.

He licked with hunger first. Frenzied. Like he couldn’t get enough. His mouth moved fast — messy circles, tongue flattening, then curling, lips sucking at your clit with zero grace. No rhythm. Just need.

You almost laughed. “Jake,” you breathed, threading your fingers into his hair. “You’re making a fucking mess.”

“M’sorry,” he panted. “Tastes too good. Can’t stop—can’t—”

You yanked his head closer in answer. “Don’t you dare stop.”

And he didn’t.

He buried himself deeper, tongue working in tighter, sharper patterns. He found rhythm then. Purpose. His hands came up, gripping your thighs, spreading you open wider. He let your heel rest against his shoulder, the other curling behind his neck like a leash, and you let yourself fall back against the couch with a long, low moan — head tipping, mouth parting, hips beginning to twitch.

You were close. Too close.

And he felt it. The tension in your thighs. The way your breathing shifted.

So he slowed.

The fucking bastard slowed.

“Jake,” you growled, but he just hummed into your clit, tongue drawing soft little circles now — featherlight. Infuriating. And then, just when you were about to command him again—

He sucked. Hard.

You came.

Fast. Violent. A sharp, hot surge that slammed into your spine and rolled through your body like a goddamn earthquake. You moaned, bit your bottom lip to keep from crying out, hips stuttering against his face as your hands fisted in his hair like you were drowning.

And he didn’t stop.

Not for a second.

He groaned into your cunt like it fed him. Like your orgasm gave him oxygen. He sucked through it, licked every aftershock, every twitch, every whimper that escaped you. And then — when your thighs trembled and your hips tried to retreat — he shifted.

One hand — previously gripping your thigh like a man clinging to salvation — slid down.

Between your legs.

And without asking, without hesitating, he pressed two fingers against your soaked entrance, teasing first, just circling — and then he shoved them in.

You gasped — hard.

“Jake—”

He curled them immediately. Like he knew. Like he’d memorized the blueprint of your body and knew exactly what would shatter you. He didn’t give you time to adjust. Just fucked his fingers into you fast and deep, knuckles slick with your first orgasm while his mouth stayed latched to your clit, sucking like a man possessed.

Your body jolted — thighs trying to close, hips stuttering against his face, your hands flailing for something to grab, anything — the armrest, his hair, your own wrist.

“Jake, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he mumbled, voice low and hot and buried in your cunt. “Let me. Please, Mommy—let me make you come again.”

And fuck, you did.

The second orgasm ripped through you — louder, messier, wetter — your walls clenching around his fingers as he kept driving them into you, his palm slick, heel of his hand grinding against you as you moaned so hard it felt like you might pass out.

"Holy fuck—" you cried, legs spasming.

But he still. Didn’t. Stop.

Your voice broke. "I said stop—"

He pulled back from your clit for one second, just long enough to moan against your folds, "I'll make you feel good—"

Then went right back to it.

His fingers curled harder now, precise, brutal. Three now — you didn’t even know when he added a third — but you felt it. Deep. Full. Your body couldn’t tell where the pleasure ended and pain began, everything smearing together into one long, mindless scream that echoed through the room as your third orgasm crashed into you like a fucking freight train.

You shoved him off, finally — heel pressing into his chest just enough to make him stumble back, fall onto his ass, panting and glassy-eyed and soaked with your slick. He blinked up at you like he didn’t even know where he was.

You were still shaking, legs trembling from the overload, breath ragged. You sat there — limp, fucked, worshiped — and stared at the man who’d just made you come like that with nothing but his tongue, and fingers and a death wish.

You’d never felt this safe. This powerful. This wanted. And he crawled back forward. Pressed his cheek to your thigh. Didn’t say anything. Just breathed against you.

You reached down and pulled him into a kiss — wet, sloppy, tongue-first and desperate, all teeth and spit, and god, he melted into it. Of course he did. You were still soaked from what he did to you, thighs a mess, cunt twitching with aftershocks — and he was the one trembling.

You pulled back and let your palm curl around his cock, rough and flushed and leaking across your fingers like it had been hurting for attention. He hissed when you touched it, and then groaned — loud, helpless — when you dragged your heel down, pressing it gently at first into his balls before slowly, firmly, crushing down.

“Mm. You look like you’re suffering right there,” you murmured, voice all syrup and sin.

He nodded, panting through clenched teeth.

“Is eating me out really getting you this excited?” you purred, cocking your head like it actually surprised you.

He nodded again. Hissed when you pressed harder with your heel. “Yes, Mommy—fuck, yes—it’s so much, I can’t—”

You let go of his cock.

“Touch yourself.”

He froze.

“I didn’t say you could cum,” you added lazily. “But I want to see you do it. Look at you. A grown man on the floor, balls bruised, begging for permission to jerk off in front of the woman who just came on his face.”

Jake’s hand moved fast — too fast — and you could already tell he was on edge. He gripped himself tight, started stroking, sloppy and aching, cock bobbing under his own frantic rhythm. But his eyes were locked on you.

You leaned back, legs still spread, panties ruined somewhere under the couch, slick still glistening on your thighs.

And you smirked.

He whimpered.

“Oh, god—” he gasped, jerking himself harder. “Please, just—just watch me—watch me, Mommy, please, I want you to see me—”

You raised a brow. “Why?”

He blinked. Swallowed.

“Say it.”

“Because—” he choked, “because I look pathetic—and… you’re still so perfect and I’m just here, jerking off on the floor like a freak—”

You tilted your head, letting your gaze drift over him slowly, from his flushed face to his slick stomach to the veins in his arms flexing with every stroke.

“You think I’m enjoying this?” you asked flatly, voice bored. “You think I want to see you make a mess of yourself like some shameless animal?”

He moaned.

“I—I hope s—”

“You hope so?”

He bit his lip. His hand never stopped. He was panting now, eyes burning into your body.

“And you like being watched?” you asked. “Even like this?”

He nodded, voice breaking. “I like when you see how bad I want you. How stupid I get. I-I-I want you to know what you do to me. I want to look at you and see your thighs and your cunt and your attitude and know I’m not allowed to have any of it—unless you let me.”

You hummed.

“And what do you want me to do to you, Jake?”

His eyes glazed over. “Everything—” Hips jerking.

“No. Be specific.”

He whimpered.

“I want you to hit me when I cum—open palm, across the face, hard enough that I feel it later. I-I-I want you to spit in my mouth again, like last time, and tell me I’ve earned it. I want you to put that heel back into my cock until I’m shaking—until I can’t move without permission. I want you to laugh when I beg, call me pathetic, make me say what I am. I want you to choke me—tight—long…hng… Long enough that I have to ask to breathe—and wh-when you let go, I want to thank you. I want your slick on my face, dried down my neck, smeared over my mouth like a collar—and I want to sleep in it. Don’t let me clean up. Make me keep it…”

You watched him stroke harder, hips twitching, spit almost sliding down his chin from how hard he was panting.

“I want you to ruin me and then hold me after… I….  Want to make you cum again and again until I cry. I want you—to never… Never stop looking at me.”

You leaned forward. And he shuddered. You didn’t say a word. Just watched.

And when he came — loud, messy, too fast and too much — he cried your name. again. and again. and again.

You reached down and pulled him into a kiss — wet, tongue-first, needy. Sloppy and lost. And he melted. Of course he did. His mouth opened instantly, like instinct, like prayer. His lips were soaked from your cunt, and yours still tasted like his worship, so the whole thing was just spit and sin and heat. He groaned into it, soft and broken, like the kiss alone was enough to undo him.

You were still a mess — slick between your thighs, muscles twitching from the high he forced out of you, panties ruined and forgotten — and yet he was the one shaking. 

shit it felt good !

You broke the kiss first, dragging his bottom lip between your teeth until it snapped free. Then your hand dropped — right to his cock. Hard. Leaking. Angry-red and trembling in your palm like it had been hurting for you. You curled your fingers around it with practiced ease, thumb smearing his mess along the head just to make him whimper.

And then your heel dragged between his legs. Slowly.

You pressed into his balls — lightly at first, then firmer — until he gasped, jaw tightening, hips frozen like he didn’t know whether to rut forward or flinch.

“Mm.” You let your voice drip with amusement. “You look like you’re suffering right there.”

He nodded fast. Too fast. Shoulders tense. “Yes, Mommy—yes, it hurts—but it’s so good—I need more—please—”

You gave his cock a lazy stroke. Nothing to write about but enough for him to jolt.

“Is eating me out really what did this to you?” you murmured. “Made you this hard?”

He nodded again—practically whining.

“Mommy, it’s you, it’s always you—I get like this when you look at me, when you talk to me—fuck, fuck, fuck, even your voice makes my cock hurt.”

You smiled. Let go.

“Touch yourself.” He froze.

“You don’t get to cum,” you added, like an afterthought. “You cum without permission, and I walk out of this room. Leave you like this. Understand?”

He nodded, mouth open, eyes wet. “Yes. Yes, Mommy.”

He reached for himself instantly—like he’d been waiting hours for that command. His hand wrapped around his cock and started stroking hard, fast, filthy. His other hand trembled on his thigh, like he didn’t know what to do with it. His whole body was tight, twitching, sweat glistening down his chest and veiny arms. You could see every muscle working just to keep himself upright.

But he was looking at you. Your body, your gaze. Never looked away.

You leaned back into the couch, legs still spread, one arm draped lazily over the backrest. Slick still shone between your thighs. You didn’t say anything. Just watched, and played with the sound your own wetness.

Jake moaned immediately. “Please—please keep watching—please, I—I want you to see me like this—”

“Why?” you said flatly.

He swallowed, hard.

“Say it.”

“Because—because I look like a mess,” he whimpered, stroking faster without thinking. “Because I look fucking pathetic, and it’s only for you—you did this to me—your pussy, your voice, your fucking eyes, everything—”

You tilted your head.

“You think I enjoy watching you jerk off like some pathetic little mutt on the floor?”

“I—I hope you d—” he gasped. “maybe I hope you don’t—maybe I hope you think I’m disgusting. Because I am, Mommy. I’m a disgusting pervert for you. No one else gets to see me like this. No one can. Just you—Just you.”

You exhaled slowly, like you were watching an experiment spiral into something deliciously ugly.

“And what do you want me to do to you, Jake?”

His hips jerked forward like the question alone hit his prostate. “Everything,” he moaned.

You narrowed your eyes. “No. Be specific.”

He looked up at you like he was about to cry.

“I want you to slap me when I cum,” he whimpered, “hard. Across the face. Make me feel you for days. I want you to spit in my mouth again—please, like last time—while I’m begging. I want you to wear those heels and step on me. Make me thank you while you do it. Tell me I’m nothing. Laugh when I fuck you and swear to me.”

His stroking grew faster — slick, loud, hips twitching like he was fighting to stay in his body.

“I want you to choke me until I have to ask to breathe,” he gasped. “And when you let go, I want to thank you. Like a good boy. Like your property.”

He was shaking now.

“I want to sleep in your slick. Face coated in it. Neck wet. Chest marked. Don’t let me wash it off—please, I want to wear it. Like a collar. Like a proof.”

You said nothing. Just stared. And he broke.

“I want you to ruin me. And then hold me after. Kiss my forehead like I’m not broken. Make me make you cum again until I’m crying from how much I need you. Mommy, I swear to god—” he sobbed, “no one else can do this to me. It’s you. It’s always been you. I’m think of you—your body, your voice, your pussy—I want to live under you—”

your thighs were twitching. His breath was ragged. His whole body trembled like it was about to shut down.

“Please look at me when I cum,” he begged, “please—please see me—please, I need you—”

You nod and almost moan in your breath, And he came.

Loud. Raw. A broken, choked sob of your name as cum spilled over his knuckles, painting his abs, his thighs, the floor. He kept stroking through it, messy and wild, eyes locked on yours even as tears welled up in them. He looked wrecked. Ruined.

He cried out again. Your name again. and again and again. Whispered like a prayer, repeated like a compulsion — quieter each time, like he couldn’t stop saying it, like it was the only thing left tethering him to reality. And when the last of his orgasm spilled over his wrist and onto the floor, his body simply… slumped.

Collapsed at your knees now closed.

Shaking, silent, mouth open but not speaking anymore — breath coming in little broken bursts as if the air around him had gotten too thin. And for a moment, you just watched him. Not as a dom. Not as a goddess. Just… watched the boy you adored fall to pieces in front of you.

Then you moved. You slid down from the couch to the carpet, kneeled in front of him — with him — and reached out. He flinched at first, not from fear but fragility and maybe self consciousness.

But you cupped his face anyway. Held him gently, thumbs brushing across his hot, damp cheeks, and leaned in to press a soft kiss just under his eye.

“Shh,” you whispered, voice low. Warm. Real. “You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you.” Jake’s eyes fluttered shut. His body leaned into yours like gravity had given up. And then — quietly, barely audible — he sniffled.

“I’m sorry,”

You froze. “Why?”

He swallowed hard. Still wouldn’t open his eyes. “For saying too much. For… being too much of a sub.”

You pressed your lips to his forehead. Then his temple. Then his cheek.

“You weren’t too much,” you said, kissing between words. “You were honest. Perfect. Mine.”

He whimpered— a small, broken sound— and then his arms wrapped around your waist, so tight, so desperate, like he didn’t care about the mess or the sweat or the fact that he was naked and half-crying on a hotel room floor.

You held him. Stroked his hair. Kissed behind his ear. Whispered things only he was allowed to hear.

“My good boy.” “My perfect thing.” “You did so well for me.”

Minutes passed like that. Or hours. You weren’t sure. The quiet felt infinite, like the world had shrunk down to the warmth of two bodies pressed together under dim light and the soft scent of sex and sweat and trust.

Eventually, he pulled back — reluctantly — just far enough to look at you. His eyes were sleepy, still red. But he smiled, small and exhausted.

“…Can we—” he hesitated. Bit his lip looking at you. “Can we sleep here?”

You raised a brow. “We don’t have anything packed.”

“I know.” He blinked. “I just don’t want you to leave. Not tonight. I wanna fall asleep with you... Please.”

You looked at him for a moment. Then nodded.

“Okay,” you said softly. “But first, let’s clean up.”

Jake followed you wordlessly to the bathroom, still trembling a little, wide-eyed like he couldn’t believe you were really going to stay.

The water ran hot, steam blooming fast as you stepped under it together — skin on skin, sticky and marked, your bodies pressed close in the quiet rush of heat.

You reached for the soap, lathered slowly, and started with his chest.

He gasped — not from the temperature, but from the way you touched him. Like he was something precious. Something yours.

You washed him soft. Careful. Thumbs running down his ribs, lips brushing over his shoulder once, twice. His hands stayed on your hips like he didn’t know what else to do — until you turned, smiled lazily over your shoulder, and offered him the bar.

“Your turn.”

He took it like a gift.

And then his hands were on you — warm and slow, fingers sliding over your skin like he was worshiping you in silence, like rinsing the sweat and slick off you was the most important job he’d ever been given. He kissed your neck. Your shoulder. Your lower back. You felt it in your knees.

By the time the water turned lukewarm, he was panting softly behind you, hard again without a word spoken, cock brushing your thigh like a question.

You didn’t answer it. Not yet. You just turned, kissed his cheek, and whispered, “Bed.”

And he followed you, lifting you, dripping and obedient, like you were the only thing in the world that made sense.

He didn’t let go of you, not even when you reached the bed. You both collapsed into the blankets, half-covered in nothing but the weight of each other.

And then — quiet giggle in his chest, warm kiss on your neck — Jake tugged you closer. And called your name.

You smiled into his collarbone. “Hmm?”

“…Can I fuck you sweet?”

You looked at him. He looked nervous. Flushed. But serious.

“…Not rough. Not a scene too. Just… I wanna make you feel good. Wanna be in you. Close.” His eyes did that triangle thing that made you smile.

Ans your heart did a weird thing in your chest. You didn’t say anything, just kissed him. Slow. Deep.

He slid into you like it was meant to happen in silence. No teasing. No commands. Just soft hands and warm breath and your legs curling around his hips, pulling him in like he belonged there— Oh he did.

You moved together like something practiced.

His forehead pressed to yours. His eyes never left your face. It wasn’t the kind of sex that left bruises. It was the kind that stayed under your skin for days.

And when you both came — whispering each other’s names, holding on like sleep might take you too soon — you didn’t bother separating. Just tangled yourselves up tighter under the blankets, legs and arms everywhere, breath syncing until the air went quiet.

Jake fell asleep first from exhaustion . Still inside you. Face tucked into your neck, hand resting on your hip and over your head, smile barely there.

And you followed. One last kiss to his hairline. One last thought, whispered only in your head.

Maybe I love you, Jake.

🕰️

Monday came too soon.

The city clicked back into motion like it hadn’t been on its knees three nights ago — like you hadn’t spent the weekend riding high on power and orgasm, like Jake Sim hadn’t buried his face between your thighs and cried your name like it was a gospel, like nothing in your bed had shifted something irreversible between you. But here you were. Blazer sharp. Hair tied up like a noose. Coffee in one hand, to-do list in the other. Face clean. Voice calm. And Jake?

Jake was perfect. Of course.

Golden manager. Corporate fantasy. Tie straight. Shoes polished. Smile polite, crisp, neutral — as if he hadn’t begged to sleep in your slick two nights ago. As if his mouth hadn’t broken you open like prayer.

He passed your desk at 9:02. On time. Silent. But his eyes flicked toward you — fast, hot, reverent — like he was starving for permission to even look.

Yeah. Not subtle.

The week dragged. Deadlines. Briefings. Emails that made you want to cry. A dozen little brushes of Jake’s arm at meetings, a few too-long looks across the conference room. Nothing said. Everything felt.

And then Wednesday came. And Jay walked in like a plot twist.

Jay — from the international branch. Jay who hadn’t changed a bit except in jawline and confidence. Tall, lean, just the right amount of cocky, with that you-can-trust-me grin and rolled-up sleeves that said he wasn’t here to play humble. You knew that walk before he even reached your side of the office. And you smiled before he even said your name.

“Holy shit,” he laughed, arms open, warm and loud and exactly the same. “Is that you?”

You stood to greet him, surprising the whole office, and for a second it was easy to forget anything else existed.

Jay had been your twin at your first job — the only rookie who matched your speed and fire, the one who helped you learn the ropes while you taught him how to cheat the system without getting caught. You’d shared too many late-night reports and too many energy drinks in parking lots to pretend this wasn’t real.

You hugged. Tight. No hesitation. His hand curled behind your neck like he’d missed you properly. “Good to see you.” he whispered.

“I didn’t even know you were stationed here,” you said into his shoulder.

“Temporary,” he replied, pulling back, smiling like trouble. “Two weeks. Project lead on cross-regional integration. Had to say yes when I heard who was running one of the teams.”

You rolled your eyes, grinning. “Still charming.”

“Still bossy,” he said, looking you over with a spark you didn’t bother flinching from. “God, you look good.”

Across the room, Jake watched the whole thing, leaning on a co-worker desk for a review. And if there had been a heart rate monitor clipped to his tie, it would’ve flatlined.

To everyone else, he looked as normal as the rest of this office watching. But his jaw was tight. His hand had stopped scrolling his subordinate mouse. Because Jay wasn’t just some regional project lead— he was Jake’s old friend. One of the few people he trusted, who knew things about him from years ago, who used to sleep on his couch in between overseas rotations and share shitty bar ramen and management rants.

And now he was here. Shaking your hand. Pulling you into hugs. Looking at you like he’d found something. And worse — you looked happy to see him. Not performative-happy. Not polite. Actually happy. You leaned in to talk. You laughed, like… Twice.

Jake couldn’t hear the conversation. He didn’t know Jay had just told you that Jake was famous in the international branch — that half the floor still referred to him as “the one who doesn’t fuck up.” He didn’t know that you’d laughed and said, “He’s still like that,” or that you’d softened when Jay said, “Honestly, I’m not surprised you two haven’t killed each other. You always scared me a little more than him anyway.”

Jake didn’t know that your giggles weren’t flirtation. They were about him.

All Jake saw was the closeness. The familiarity. The way Jay’s hand brushed your arm when he made a point. The way you didn’t flinch. The easy rhythm between you. And then, just to gut him further, Jay turned around during a meeting break and dapped Jake up like a brother.

“Still as stiff as ever,” Jay said, grinning, leaning against Jake’s desk like no time had passed.

“Still can’t read a brief without fucking the formatting,” Jake shot back. They laughed. It was real. Jake wanted to be happy to see him.

But his eyes kept flicking past Jay’s shoulder. Back to you. Because even if Jake and Jay were old friends — you and Jay looked like something else.

Jay invited the team to dinner that Friday. Said it was casual. Team bonding. International-branch hospitality. You said yes before Jake could even pretend to be indifferent. Like postponing your session was nothing.

Jake sat through the rest of the week in silence. Smile plastered on. Voice tight. His keyboard clicks a little too sharp. His jaw clenched every time Jay walked past your desk.

It wasn’t that he thought Jay was a threat. It was that you seemed… open around him. Relaxed. Familiar. The kind of open Jake had only seen when you were half-naked, straddling his thigh, calling him names while riding his face.

And now?

Now you were laughing at another man’s joke. Jake spiraled. Quietly. Painfully.

🕰️

By the next wednesday morning, Jake was unraveling like a ribbon since you texted him.

Cannot make it this week… Let's wait for next friday, mr. Sim

Mr. Sim ?? Mr. Sim ??

You called Jay by his first name even in the office. Joking about his korean name, in team dinners. But even in texts Jake stayed “Mr. Sim”, if it wasn’t a scene you never called him Jake. If it wasn’t in a bedroom, never let him touch you like Jay did.

He was mad. 

Oh, he hid it well — always did. The tie still sharp, the voice still calm when he led meetings like a man who hadn’t spent the week watching you share private smiles with someone who knew you from before he did. Someone you hugged without hesitation. Someone who called you by your first name with that easy kind of familiarity Jake had only ever earned through submission.

You weren’t ignoring him. Not really. But you weren’t touching him either. No texts. No sexy glances. No little cruel reminders of what he was to you. Just distance. Controlled and professional. Like the weekends together hadn’t happened.

And Jake? Jake was starving for the leash. And your presence, he missed the intimate you. 

So when the elevator opened that morning, and you stepped in, followed by two project leads and someone from HR, he took his chance.

Jake slipped in last. Stood at your side. And said nothing, even after exchanging cute eye contact with him.

The numbers ticked up. Floors grew away. One by one, everyone stepped out.

Until it was just…  You and him.

He stepped closer. Just a little too close. You didn’t turn to look at him. Not yet. Cause recently it had been hard on you pretending you weren’t in love with him. Pretending in front of his long time friend and yours there was nothing between you two. But you felt it — his body tight with restraint, his breath catching just a little louder than it should.

“I-I don’t care if you don’t want me recently,” he said, voice low, barely audible.

Your brows lifted about to turn around but he leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear.

“You’re still my Mistress.” 

You turned then, expression unreadable.

He didn’t flinch. He exhaled. And then—he took your hand. Just your fingers. Slipped something cold and small into your palm and curled your fingers shut around it.

A key. You stared at it. Felt the weight.

“Friday can’t come fast enough,” he whispered, voice shaking just a little now. “It’s already hurting. I can’t stop thinking about you. I put it on last friday night. Haven’t touched myself since. Not even once.”

Your eyes snapped to his desperate, hot, worshipful bulge he made you palm, moaning to the contact of your unsure fingers, his forehead falling on yours.

He almost smiled — a little unhinged.

“I locked myself for you. Because I needed to remember. Because I needed you to own me.”

The elevator chimed. He stepped back. Straightened his tie. Smoothed his jacket.

Turned to you like he hadn’t just dropped a live grenade into your hand.

“I’ll be waiting until you want me again Mistress,” he said, voice calm again, composed. Just a touch sad.

Then he walked out. And left you there. Alone. With the key to his cock clenched in your fist.

And the knowledge that he’d caged himself for you, for days, just to suffer in silence until you decided he was worth your attention again. Fuck only holding it made you wet.

🕰️

Jake caught Jay by the coffee machine an hour after that— late enough in the day that the fluorescent lights made everything look a little harsher, even your name in conversation.

“Hey,” he said, low, casual. Actually not casual at all. “You and… her.”

Jay turned slightly, brow raised. “Yeah?”

Jake swallowed. “You’re not—” his voice caught, and he rolled his shoulders, tried again. “You’re not trying to… go for her, right?”

Jay blinked, the idea of playing his naive ass dying after one second of thinking,  then he smiled — not sharp, not smug. Just knowing.

“Nah, man. She already said no.”

Jake stilled.

Jay took a sip from his paper cup. “Told me she’s into someone else, a complicated situationship.”

That should’ve settled it. Should’ve made something inside him untwist.

But it didn’t.

Because Jay glanced over his shoulder, toward the open floor where you stood— and added, tone lower now, not cruel, just honest: “If it were me, I’d stop hiding behind roles and secrets and all that shit going on and just tell her. Straight up.”

Jake didn’t move.

Jay looked at him again. “She’s into you, bro. That’s obvious… From what I understood.” He clapped Jake’s shoulder once — firm, not teasing. “Only thing left is whether you’ve got the spine to stop waiting for her to drag it out of you.”

🕰️

Fuck.

Jay was right.

This thing between you — the structure, the sessions, the rules he clung to like they made him safe — it was never meant to hold forever. It worked because it was clean. Controlled. Because you both pretended it didn’t mean more, didn’t bleed more. But Jake had already gone too far, and every time he knelt, every time you touched his jaw and made him beg like something sacred, he fell harder into something that wasn’t just powerplay anymore — it was love. Messy. Real. Suffocating.

And now?

Now he couldn’t stop thinking.

What if you started dating someone?

Would he still get his sessions — or would you say it wasn’t “appropriate” anymore?

Would you let him keep watching you from across the meeting room — or would he have to pretend you were just his superior again, like you hadn’t screamed his name while grinding on his face four nights ago?

Would he be allowed to touch you? At all? To kiss your ankle while you read? To hold your thigh under the table just because he needed to feel you?

Would lazy Sunday mornings in bed be cancelled — would the books, the wine, the home-cooked meals and terrible documentaries turn into someone else’s life with you?

Would he still be allowed to look at you the way he did?

To smile at you like you were the only thing that had ever been his?

Or would you pull away the next time he leaned in?

Would Jake go back to “Mr. Sim”?

Would your voice lose that edge when you said his name?

Would you take your laugh with you? Your eyes? Your mouth?

That smug little smirk when you wore heels that bruised his ribs and made him say thank you for it?

That cold, commanding tone that shattered him?

That soft, dangerous warmth when you licked his tears off your knuckles after he came shaking in your lap?

What if it all disappeared?

What if he lost not just the kink — but you?

All versions. The hard one. The gentle one. The funny, brat-taming, snack-sharing, throat-grabbing, book-reading, leash-holding, rule-breaking you.

What if he lost the one person who saw all of him — and didn’t flinch?

What if he had to start calling you “miss” again, just to keep from saying mine?

No.

He wasn’t going to survive another week of pretending. Not another goddamn day of acting like giving you his body wasn’t also handing you his heart.

It had to be tonight.

He texted you one line, with a pin to the address:

“Come here tonight. 9PM. Please.”

You arrived right on time.

And the address — when you reached it — wasn’t a hotel. Wasn’t a suite. Wasn’t the clean, clinical setting where you usually got him on his knees and made him sob.

It was a house.

His house.

You blinked.

Then walked in.

Jake opened the door like he’d been pacing behind it for an hour — sweater soft, hair undone, eyes wide and helpless and shining like he had no idea how you were going to respond to any of this.

The first thing you noticed was how expensive everything was — the dark wood, the subtle lighting, the quiet warmth of real money used by someone who didn’t need to show it off. The second thing was his dog — tail wagging, greeting you like you’d been here a thousand times before.

The third?

Family photos.

Jake as a kid. In school uniforms. With his mother in Seoul. With classmates. With some awful international branch birthday cake, and that smile — the smile, just smaller, softer, untouched.

You turned slowly. Took it all in.

He watched you like a man watching a dream walk through his bedroom.

“You like it?” he asked, unsure.

Your answer was in your eyes — in how slowly you moved, in how carefully you touched the edge of a frame, in the way you smiled and looked back at him for detailed comparaisons.

“You’ve never let me in here,” you said. “That's… New.” you smiled.

“Yeah,” he murmured. That was the problem. he thought. 

Dinner was tense. Not because anything was wrong, but because everything was shifting — plates warming your hands while your eyes stayed fixed on his face, red wine sweet on your tongue while you waited for the dam to crack. 

Jake broke first. “It’s not homemade,” he said, sheepish. 

“Unless you want to end up in the hospital.” 

You laughed. And then — you turned to him, voice like a knife sliding in slowly.

“Are you really wearing it?”

He swallowed. His jaw twitched. Then he nodded half looking at your reaction.

“I bought a smaller one,” he whispered, like it hurt to admit. “The one that hurts when I get hard.”

You didn’t blink. Just tilted your head, like the predator you were.

“And when did you?”

Jake leaned forward, voice raw, fingers twitching by the number of times he passed them through his hair before hiding in his palm?

“Monday,” he said. “When you wore the heels I gave you” then he whispered, “I remembered the way they left marks on my back while I tasted you— I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I was hard all day… It ached.”

You crossed your legs, slowly. Grin flickering.

“Wednesday, I saw your thighs,” he added, faster now, like he couldn’t hold it in. “Bare under your skirt — just a glimpse, but I kept wondering where they stopped. If they were warm. If they were sticky with someone else’s mouth.”

Your breath hitched, but your face didn’t change.

“T-thursday,” he said, almost breathless, “when I saw you smile at Jay, and I wanted you to snap. I wanted you to pull me by the collar and spit in my mouth in front of everyone just so I could feel claimed.”

And then softer.

“Y-yesterday… I thought about kissing you in the hallway. About grabbing you and just… giving it away. Not caring who saw. Not hiding anymore.”

You let it hang.

Then:

“What?”

Jake’s hands trembled.

“I was jealous,” he said. “You looked so comfortable with him. Like he was allowed to see parts of you I only get when you’ve got your hand around my throat. And I couldn’t say anything — because I’m not your boyfriend. I’m not your partner. I’m just the guy who comes when you tell him to. If he’s lucky.”

You leaned in, voice cool and soft.

“And?”

He met your gaze like it burned.

“And I thought maybe… I wasn’t worth more. That everything I’ve shown you — the crying, the leash, the begging — maybe that made me… disposable.”

Silence.

Heavy.

You stared at him like you were looking at something precious. Fragile. Real.

Then you smiled.

Blush blooming over cheekbones, hidden behind the wine glass.

“What should I do, Jake…” you said, low, sultry, devastating. “You made me too ruined to date anyone else now.”

Jake made a sound. Half-sob, half-laugh, and really looked at you, your validating beautiful eyes. Then, he stood. Walked over. Grabbed you like he was afraid you’d disappear if he waited one more second.

And kissed you like it hurt.

“I love you,” he breathed against your lips. “I’m in love with you.” He kissed again, “I’ll give you everything.”  kissed again, “I’ll let you ruin me for the rest of my life and beg for more, I swear.”

You laughed in his embrace and looked at him with sudden dare.

“Prove it Jake.”

He stripped for you like he was peeling away fear itself. and you did the same messily kissing.

Quiet obedience. Until he stood naked inch from you, flushed, forehead against forehead, trembling, cock caged and faintly purple, swollen from days of frictionless ache. It looked smaller, pulled tight by metal and denial. Beautiful in its own way — his way. His whole body looked like it was waiting for permission to feel again, all veiny and hot.

You dropped to your knees.

Unlocked him with the little silver key.

And the second the cage clattered to the floor, he moaned — not from pleasure. From pain. His cock sprang out — red, angry, twitching like it didn’t know if it was free or dying.

You reached forward, wrapped your hand around it, and he came instantly.

“F-fuck—Hng, no, no, no—I’m sorry—I’m sorry—please—” he gasped, whole body convulsing, cum spilling down your wrist in helpless pulses. “I didn’t mean to—it’s been d—I didn’t want to—please—”

You smiled. God, you loved it. all cruel and loving on him.

“It’s okay, baby,” you cooed, rising to kiss his cheek. “That was just the appetizer.” And he kept coming with slow strokes on your thighs now like it was his first time.

In his bedroom, you tied him up with smooth, sure hands— wrists to headboard, thighs wide, legs restrained too with ropes he prepared— and then climbed on top of him 

He was still trembling. Still leaking. Still whispering your name like he couldn’t believe you were real.

And then, just when he thought he might get softness —

You leaned in and blindfolded him. And your voice made him tremble.

“Jake,” you whispered, brushing your lips along his jaw. “Do you think Jay would’ve made me scream like you do?”

His breath hitched. You grinned.

“Do you think he’d eat me better than you?” you asked, tongue flicking against his earlobe as he twitched under you. “Would he cry when I ride his face? Would he beg for my spit too?”

Jake whimpered. His cock jerked. You pressed down harder against him.

Moaning in the most outrageous way.

“Would he fuck me better than the boy leaking into his sheets right now?”

“Stop—please—no,” he gasped, face trying to find your lips with shame and heat.

You laughed. Gently.

“Then make me never want to find out,” you said. “Be a good boy. Show my pussy, Jake.”

And he did. You pulled on the ropes and realized him.

He fucked you like a man possessed. Getting inside your wetness in one go. Like a man breaking out of something. Like he’d die if you didn’t keep screaming his name. He thrust with raw need, face twisted in love, in agony, in fucking reverence.

He came again. And again. Still hard. Still inside you. Still trying to earn you with every snap of his hips. His cum painted your thighs, your cunt, your stomach — you didn’t want to stop. And he didn’t stop.

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you[...]” He kept moaning on  your lips, in your neck, mouth at your tits.

And when he finally collapsed into you, ruined, panting, completely undone? You kissed him and whispered : 

“I love you too.”

🕰️

You did it on the floor next.

Then against the wall.

Then the window. Then the shower. Then the kitchen table while his dog slept soundly in the living room like nothing sacred was happening in the next room.

No rules. No safe words. No games.

Just “I love you” in every thrust, every bite, every knot of fingers in hair and bruises bloomed in the shape of home.

You didn’t fuck like dom and sub that night . You fucked like people who’d been starving for each other in plain sight — and finally broke the lock.

Thank you so much for reading Part 2 of Power Play 🖤 Our sub!Jake and boss x co-worker chaos has officially evolved—now it’s not just a dom/sub dynamic... it’s real romance too💗

I’d love to hear what you thought, so don’t be shy—drop your feedback, scream with me, anything!!

P.S. Yes, Part 3 is already in the works… get ready 😏✨

xoxo ©Lassiie

TL : @heekolazz @shariasweet @heeseungsbm @monoidol @v1shwa-xo @thesundys @xiaoszone

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sim jaeyun (jake) fic recs - pt.1

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· ♡ · · tysm to the amazing creative minds of the writers for giving me sevaral moments of joy reading your creations

pls reblog if you like any of my recs and don´t forget to support authors!❤️

[note: yess, ik you´ve seen this before. i just reorganized my whole m.list by memebr, hope yall like it!]

pics i posted on my ig story for my crush to see - ( @lattegyu ) ig stories, fluff, crack, smau, non idol!jake

brought the heat back - ( @jayniks ) smut, idol!jake, giving him a bj while he´s on weverse live sdlkjlsd WHEWW

hello kitty meets batman - ( @star-sim ) fluff, angst, lowkey smut, dark horror creator youtuber!jake, downbad!jake, beauty vlogger youtuber!reader. fans had no idea their fav youtubers were in a long-term secret relationship. THIS IS SO GOOOOOODDDDDDDD plsss, i wish i could read it again for the first time

things we never said - ( @hoonigiris ) very angsty, jake au. it’s heeseung’s wedding, jake’s had too much to drink, and really, he just misses you. perhaps what happens after are the things he should never say. This is realllyy well written, i loved it

taste of heaven - ( @moonstruck-muses ) vamp au, smut, fluff, angst, vamp!jake, human!reader. he´s keeping his true nature a secret. THIS HAS IT ALLLLL and the smut is so gewd too, pls i would love the see another part of this

waiting on calls - ( @miumura ) fluff, angst, exes to lovers, second chance romance, ex bf!jake, non idol au, I LOVE THISSSSSSS, its so different and well written

ouch my head - ( @jakesangel ) loser desperate jake, smau, crack, fluff, "when y/n almost gets hit by a random hot basketball player who happens to have a huge crush on her" this is an on going series, so so so entertaining and fun to read lmao

everything but nothing - ( @cherryrikis ) ANGST (i love that shii), non-idol!au, break up talk, football cap!jake, fluffy happy ending, comfort

too sweet - ( @star-sim ) fluff, suggestive, badboy!jake, nerdy!reader, downbad!jake. Jay is scared he will hurt you in the future so he tries to break things off but at the end of the day he´s whipped LMAOOO, I LOVE ITTTTTT

fuck buddy jake - ( @heeseungsbm ) smut, lowkey fluff bc he´s got a fat crush

texts with ex-bf!jake - ( @bywons ) fluff, CRACK, he´s down bad fr

pictures of bf!jake enha send you - ( @ddksoo ) text, fluff

serendipity - ( @kaiyunsim ) fluff, spiderman!jake, if you love hot loser!jake as much as i do, you´re gonna LOVE this.

between the shelves - ( @liuhsng ) fluff, strangers to lover, soulmate au, alpha!jake, omega!reader, alpha!enha. I LOVEDDD THISSSSSSS, jake´s so dreamy cool and collected, got me giggling and kicking my feet

the price of perfection - ( @woniedarlin ) angst, fluff, academic rival!jake, academic pressure. now now, i know i said i hate those academy rivals, work rivals, enemies to lovers tropes, and i do!, BUUTTT this one´s differente. They aren´t really rivals, she´s just jealouse and jake´s just vibing lmao, but they end up being what each other´s need